Excess Baggage Page #4

She tears wrapping.

PERKINS:

You're locked in a room. What do you do?

YOUNG EMILY:

Check windows.

PERKINS:

The windows are barred.

YOUNG EMILY:

Check doors.

PERKINS:

The doors are locked.

YOUNG EMILY:

Check the ceiling.

This is a very old routine, almost sing song.

PERKINS:

Ceiling's clean.

Emily lifts a delicate necklace from the wrapping.

YOUNG EMILY:

This is beautiful, Uncle Thomas.

She leans over, kisses his cheek.

YOUNG EMILY (CONT'D)

Thank you.

PERKINS:

Ceiling.

YOUNG EMILY:

I don't want to play today.

Silence.

YOUNG EMILY (CONT'D)

Why don't you take me out to dinner, Uncle Thomas?

Silence.

YOUNG EMILY (CONT'D)

It's my birthday.

More silence. Emily sighs.

YOUNG EMILY (CONT'D)

I hate rooms. Let's do explosives.

He c*cks an eyebrow at her -- explosives are not a goodsubject right now.

PERKINS:

We're doing rooms.

YOUNG EMILY:

Okay, rooms, but you have to buy me a realdrink.

He snorts laughter.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE - EVENING

The Mercedes' back seat pops loose and Emily, scuffed, crawlsfrom the trunk, over the back seat, into the car's interior.

EMILY:

You owe me a drink, Thomas.

The first thing she reaches for is the Mercedes' cellularphone. The cord is cut.

EMILY (CONT'D)

Oh, you creep.

She pulls her purse from the trunk, rearranges the backseat, and considers a cigarette -- sniffs the air, wrinkles her nose, shakesher head sorrowfully, and puts the cigarette away -- before climbing outof the car to survey her surroundings. No phones.

INT. WILL'S PORSCHE - NIGHT

Will steers down a dark street he knows by heart -- takesan alley by rote, a short cut, passes a sign: "Portland International Airport"--

EXT. PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT

The Porsche idles, headlights illuminating Will as he shovesaside a fence marked "Airport Personnel Only" --

He pulls the car into an abandoned lot off the runway, settlesonto the car's hood with a weary sigh, stress falling away as he staresup at planes taking off for Somewhere Else.

And watching his face, you know he wants to be going toSomewhere Else -- has wanted that for all his life --

INT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE - EVENING

Whoever designed this place was more than security conscious.Bars and locks on what few windows there are, each requiring a key. Emilystrokes the bars in disgust, shoves a finger through to scratch a thin linein the black paint covering the glass surface.

EMILY (CONT'D)

Sh*t.

There're a couple of doors on the ground floor. First one'sa bathroom. She checks it out. Nothing in there but toilet paper, toilet,sink, and soap.

The second door is locked.

She pads upstairs to study the door to the living quarters-- also locked. Not with a household doorknob. With a key lock.

EMILY (CONT'D)

What a control freak.

She turns to study the garage door. No buttons for gettingthis baby open -- ceiling and door mechanisms out of reach. Everything lockeddown, barred, keyed, bolted.

She pads to a tool bench and rummages in its drawers --the only things not locked down.

EXT. PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT

Will's still watching those planes -- but he's calmer, moretogether, and it's time to shake it off.

Moving stiffly, he climbs off the hood, walks around toclimb into the porsche's driver's seat.

INT. WILL'S PORSCHE (PORTLAND INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT) - NIGHT

Starting the engine, shooting one more "Wait for me, I'mcoming back" grimace at those rumbling planes.

WILL:

Another day. Another life.

He pulls out and away.

INT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

Emily, surrounded by tools, works to disassemble the lockon the living quarters door -- this is one killer lock.

The tool slips, stabs into her finger -- adding to a growingassortment of insults to what used to be a perfect manicure -- she popsthe injured digit into her mouth, studies the nicks, cuts, and abrasionswith contempt.

A police SIREN flares outside.

She brightens, till the siren FADES into the distance.

EMILY:

To protect and serve. Yeah, right.

She rises stiffly, shoves sweaty hair off her forehead,glares angrily at the lock -- which looks intact as hell -- stretches, sighs,and pads to the bathroom.

EXT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

The Porsche glides to the warehouse's garage door.

INT. WILL'S PORSCHE - NIGHT

Will triggers the garage door with the opener that neverleaves his side -- preferably, as high tech a coded mechanism as God puton this green earth, when it comes to garage door openers. The door slidesopen.

INT./EXT. WILL'S WAREHOUSE/BATHROOM/MAIN WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

Emily's on the toilet when the electric garage door HUMS,b.g.

EMILY:

No!

It's hard to hurry these things up, but she's ready to peeher jeans to get out of there -- she reaches automatically to flush thetoilet, jerks her hand back.

EMILY (CONT'D)

What, am I nuts?

Struggling to get her pants put to rights as she stumblesto the door --

MAIN WAREHOUSE:

Will guides the Porsche into the slot beside the Mercedes,swings out of the Porsche, approaching the Mercedes, as the garage doorstarts down, pauses --

He doesn't want to open that damn trunk. He eyes it, apprehensive--

WILL:

This is ridiculous.

He pops the trunk.

It's empty.

WILL (CONT'D)

Oh sh*t.

He stares around the warehouse -- nothing -- spins to eyethe closing garage door in horror.

WILL (CONT'D)

No!

He smacks the control, halting the door in mid-close, ducksunder it to stare up and down the street of a run down warehouse district.

Emily slips from the bathroom, working her way stealthilyalong the wall towards the open door.

WILL (CONT'D)

God damn it!

An OLD WOMAN stops picking through a dumpster to glare defiantlyat him. He rakes a hand through his hair --

Emily's almost to the open door --

Will turns, ducking back inside -- looking both ways --

Emily, busted, lunges for the opening --

He lunges to cut her off --

It's a flying, freewheeling tackle -- they hit the concretefloor -- inside -- and hard.

POV:

Outside the door, the old woman gawks.

WILL and emily

Will's fighting to hold Emily down as he clicks the garagedoor opener -- the door starts going up --

WILL:

Damn it!

Clicking again -- going down --

Fighting -- it's not a sure thing who's winning here --she kicks the door's bottom edge -- going up --

He's cursing, hitting buttons -- going down --

She's kicking -- there's a lot of defense training in thosekicks -- which is unfortunate for Will's jaw -- going for the door againwith that foot --

He heaves, dragging them both backwards across concrete,out of reach -- and the door slams closed.

Silence.

Will rolls onto his toes, breathing heavy, waiting for thenext attack.

Emily stares at the closed door in disgust, rubs her concreteburned elbow.

WILL:

If you were smart, you would have pulled that stuntwhen I pulled in.

EMILY:

I am smart. I had to pee.

Not what he was expecting -- and he almost laughs, stopswhen he touches his injured chin.

Wincing -- that elbow hurts -- she studies him.

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