Flight Page #7

MAIN CABIN -- WE WATCH OVER TRINA’S SHOULDER AS SHE HANGS

TRINA struggles to stay in her seat as she looks at the

passengers hanging. She watches as a YOUNG BOY loses his

grip and flops to the ground.

TRINA unhooks and flops to the ground. We follow her as she

runs on the ceiling of the cabin towards the BOY. She gets

there and starts lifting him towards his FATHER.

COCKPIT -- SAME TIME

The ATC voice now plays loudly through the entire cockpit.

ATC:

SouthJet 227, Atlanta Center. I see

your position 4 and a half miles

southeast of the airport.

Descending out of 1,800. Are you

OK?

It takes Whip a second to find the mic key on his inverted

yoke...

WHIP:

Uh, Atlanta...we’re inverted.

There’s a very pregnant pause...

ATC:

Uh, SouthJet 227...say again sir.

Did you say inverted?

EVANS seems calmed by WHIP’S workaday attitude about their

insane tragedy. But suddenly...

WARNING LIGHTS BEGIN FLASHING!

EVANS:

WE’RE LOSING OIL PRESSURE! PUMP

FAILURE. BOTH ENGINES!

36.

WE HEAR A HORRIBLE, METALLIC GRINDING SOUND as the engines

become oil-deprived.

WHIP:

We’re flying!

WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP! -- THE ENGINE FIRE ALARM SOUNDS!

EVANS:

FIRE IN THE LEFT ENGINE!

WHIP:

PUT IT OUT!

Evans pulls the Fire Bottle handle.

Whip BARKS at air traffic control.

WHIP (CONT’D)

(into his mic)

HOW FAR’S THE AIRPORT!?

ATC:

227, three miles, and one o’clock.

WHIP:

(into his mic)

We’re not gonna make that!

WHIP’S POV -- THRU THE INVERTED WINDSCREEN -

A small white church on a hill -- 100 yards past the church

is a soy bean field and a two-lane blacktop.

WHIP (CONT’D)

(into his mic)

There’s a field and a road

ah...we’re gonna put it down in

that field.

ATC:

Roger, SouthJet 227.

BACK TO ACTION -- CLOSE ON WHIP -- HE CALMLY FIGHTS ON.

EVANS is breathing heavy as his face is beet red from the

blood rushing to it.

EVANS:

WE’RE LOSING THE LEFT ENGINE!

37.

WHIP:

WE’RE COMING BACK OVER! EVANS, WHEN

I START THE ROLL, THROW EVERYTHING

BACK OUT!

THE NERVE-WRACKING ALARMS CONTINUE TO SOUND!

EVANS:

FIRE IN THE RIGHT!

Evans deploys the right engine Fire Bottle.

WHIP’S POV -- WE’RE HEADED TOWARD THE CHURCH -

WHIP:

(into his mic)

WHAT’S MY ALTITUDE!?

ATC:

(on radio)

Eight hundred, descending...

A NEW ALARM SCREAMS!

EVANS:

WE LOST THE LEFT ENGINE!

WHIP:

We have enough speed to fly!

EVANS:

WE’RE LOSING POWER IN THE RIGHT!

WHIP:

HERE WE GO!

WHIP PULLS HARD ON HIS YOKE -- THE PLANE SLIPS SIDEWAYS AS IT

STARTS TO RIGHT ITSELF. Whip yanks back the throttles!

WHIP (CONT’D)

FLAPS FULL! GEAR DOWN!

Evans and Whip deploy every bit of drag they can think of.

ATC:

SouthJet 227, altitude 500

indicated, descending. Do you

concur?

We follow WHIP’s eye line that takes us off the control panel

and to the windshield.

THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD WE SEE -- the landscape and the church

steeple getting closer and closer.

38.

The plane does a clumsy roll to the right -- AND GETS STUCK

PERFECTLY ON ITS SIDE!

WHIP:

MARGARET, POWER!!!!

EVANS pushes the power to full thrust AND THE PLANE FINISHES

ITS ROLL!

THE PASSENGERS HOWL!

INT. MAIN CABIN -- GALLEY -- SAME TIME

TRINA is still struggling to strap herself in to her

jumpseat. The plane rolls! She sees Camelia...

P.O.V. -- Camelia is tossed across a row of SCREAMING

passengers.

TRINA loses her grip and is violently thrown against the

galley wall!

Like a rag doll, CAMELIA is hurled down the cabin aisle as

the plane plummets!

Trina slides across the galley floor and CRACKS her head on

the jumpseat.

INT. COCKPIT -- SAME TIME

Whip frantically spins the trim wheel!

THRU THE WINDSCREEN --

THE CHURCH SPIRE IS COMING RIGHT AT US -- BOOM! -- THE RIGHT

WING CLIPS THE STEEPLE, SHEARING OFF THE CROSS!

WE HEAR A HORRIFIC, METALLIC GRINDING -- followed by a

TERRIFYING SILENCE -- RIGHT ENGINE STOPS.

EVANS:

WE LOST ALL POWER!

An unnerving quiet descends over the passenger cabin. The

only SOUND is the wind RUSHING past the air-frame.

CLOSE ON WHIP --

WHIP:

(to himself, incredulous)

Are we gliding?

39.

THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN --

WE’RE DROPPING RAPIDLY TOWARD THE GROUND -- A GROUP OF PEOPLE

GATHERED NEAR A POND IN THE CHURCHYARD SCATTER -- some are

wearing long white robes.

CLOSE ON WHIP -

WHIP (CONT’D)

WE’RE IN A GLIDE! PITCH FOR GLIDE!

EVANS (O.S.)

Oh God.

CLOSE ON THE YOKE --WHIP PULLS WITH ALL HIS MIGHT -WHIP

TRIM IT!

CLOSE ON THE TRIM WHEEL -- WHIP SPINS IT “TRIM UP” -WHIP

(CONT’D)

PITCH FOR GLIDE!

THROUGH THE WINDSCREEN -- THE BEAN FIELD RUSHES UP AT US...

CLOSE ON WHIP -WHIP

(CONT’D)

BRACE! BRACE FOR IMPAC...

ALL SOUND FADES AWAY AS THE SCREEN BLEEDS HOT WHITE --

OVEREXPOSED.

IN GRAPHIC SLOW-MOTION -- THE INSTRUMENT PANEL CRUMPLES AND

COLLAPSES AROUND WHIP --

And in a final, ironic, cosmic gesture --

WHIP’S CONTROL YOKE HURDLES TOWARD HIM -- IMPACTING HIM

BETWEEN THE EYES --

CUT TO BLACK:

NOW WE HEAR -- SHOUTS, SCREAMS -- A WOMAN SOBBING.

FADE IN:

WHIP’S POV --

WE SEE Whip’s lower torso being pulled from the wreckage --

There is swirling SMOKE AND DUST, SMALL FIRES --

40.

Evans strapped in his chair, bleeding -Margaret

SOBS uncontrollably -FADE

OUT.

FADE IN:

EXT. CRASH SITE --SLOW MOTION - HILLSIDE -- DAY

WHIP’s being pulled up a grassy hillside. In the distance

WHIP can see the shattered airplane lying in a crater. Fires

smoulder around the impact zone. Passengers are joined by

first responders as they frantically carry, drag and walk the

injured and the dead from the plane. WHIP sees a fire truck

fly by him, down the grassy slope towards the burning plane.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

WHIP’S POV -

LOOKING UP at the sky -- WE SEE black, oily SMOKE billowing

across the shattered church steeple -WE

GLIMPSE PEOPLE rushing past, some are wearing white

flowing robes -WE

HEAR DISTANT SIRENS APPROACHING AND PEOPLE PRAYING -FADE

OUT.

FADE IN:

A LOUD SIREN SCREAMS --

WHIP’S POV -LOOKING

UP at the ceiling of an ambulance -TWO

EMTS are urgently attending to him -

FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

41.

WHIP’S POV -- NIGHT

A halogen overhead light and an air-conditioning vent --

brown-stained acoustic ceiling tiles -

WE HEAR the rhythmic BEEP of a heart monitor --

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM -- NIGHT

WHIP’s eyes open to see the halogen overhead lights of a

hospital room. He turns his head slightly to see the flicker

of a TV with no sound.

TELEVISION -- NEWS - NO SOUND -- GRAINY CELL PHONE FOOTAGE

A news show runs a loop of eye witness cell phone footage of

the plane turning over and crashing belly down.

A MAN who has been watching the TV turns to see that WHIP is

awake. The MAN turns off the TV, gets up and approaches

WHIP’s bedside. WHIP knows him.

WHIP:

Charlie Anderson.

CHARLIE ANDERSON is a late 50’s former military pilot who

carries that familiar air of Texas comfort and entitlement.

CHARLIE:

How you feelin’ Whip? Initial

reports look like you pulled some

move up there, kid. You saved a

lot of lives.

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