Infinite Page #2

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That’s folded over 70 times. Carbon-treated steel.

Take your damn hands off me.

[c*cks gun]

You better tell your boy to learn how to count.

The deal is for 60 bags.

Yeah? Well, that’s all we got.

You don’t like it, you can go back to Bellevue.

Get the gat on homeboy.

[c*cks gun]

I wanna test this sh*t out.

Yo, what’s gunpowder made of?

[Ronny] Hold out your arm.

Showtime.

Hold out your arm.

Get up.

Put your arm there, huh? It’s the neck or arm, baby.

You choose.

Hey, Ronny. That’s not a toy, bro.

Mind your business, Evan.

Come on, Ronny. This ain’t funny.

[grunts] Oh, God! My fingers!

[Shawna whimpers]

[groans]

I think it works, huh, Ronny?

Cut my goddamn fingers off, man!

You’ll be all right. Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you head on home now.

[Ronny] You’re trippin’, bro.

You are done, homey. You’re a dead fool.

I don’t know, Ronny. You’re talking to a guy who buys antipsychotic medication from you.

I’m feeling a little unbalanced right now.

Maybe the best way to get the voices in my head to stop talking is to cut yours off.

Do you think it would help?

No. Don’t fight. Don’t shoot. It’s cool.

We’re cool, man. We’re cool. All right?

Hey, d*ckhead. Grab my pills. Now.

There you go.

[Ronny] You’re crazy, man.

If I was crazy, I’d have chopped you up in little pieces a long time ago.

Give me my pills.

Now, you listen to me, Ronny. I’m not crazy, okay?

Mm-hmm.

I’m just misunderstood. All right?

[gunshot]

[car alarm blaring]

[police sirens wailing]

Help!

Leona!

[grunting]

Oh!

[gasps]

[sirens wailing]

NYPD picked up an Evan McCauley. Drug deal gone south.

Cops found a sword on him.

Blade was made with a process hasn’t been used since, uh, Edo Japan.

[woman] So?

He claims he forged it himself.

Another broker-turned-hipster blacksmith.

Oh, ye of little faith. Are you seeing this, Nora?

Treadway?

Precisely.

If we know, Bathurst knows.

Be careful.

Thanks, Mom.

[door opens]

Tell us when you’re done, sir.

[Evan] Can I get my phone call?

Supposed to get a phone call.

[chuckles]

You’re dressed way too nice to be an NYPD detective, so… must be a doctor.

Not a thing?

No recognition at all?

I think I should feel hurt. [chuckles]

Do you remember… Syracuse?

Syracuse.

The siege.

Second Punic War.

Where we first met.

Well, not quite the thrill ride of the First Punic War, but, hey, sequels are tough, huh?

You disappoint me.

Well, join the club.

I notice… you didn’t sign it.

[laughs] Then again… craftsmanship like this… you didn’t need to, did you?

I made a sword. Is that a crime?

[sword hits table]

Evan McCauley.

Diagnosed with schizophrenia at 14… after carving the words “Look inside” into your chest with a box cutter.

Electroshock proved unhelpful.

But these…

are not bad, eh?

Doctor, can I…

Please. Go ahead.

At 16, attempted suicide via car crash, necessitating the steel plate in your skull.

Spent the rest of your early life bouncing around between psych hospitals and foster homes.

Well, I only cut a couple of his fingers off.

I don’t think I’m gonna need to plead insanity on this one, am I, Doctor?

I’m curious.

“Look inside.”

Why those words?

Why not?

Which one of these… is yours?

You can skip the… whatever the hell this is because none of that is mine.

You’re not supposed to have that in here.

What’s going on here?

Hey, Officer.

Hey, what the hell is going on here?

Pick it up.

What?

Pick it up.

Paris.

1794.

The last meal of the Comte d’Anjou.

A Bordeaux.

Not a bad choice for a last meal.

Was it yours?

I wish I knew what you were talking about, but I don’t know what to tell…

Jesus!

Every time you say, “I don’t know,” this trigger gets pulled.

Is it yours?

I don’t know…

Are you out of your mind?

We’re in a police station! Hello! Officer!

The room is soundproof!

They won’t even hear it when I put 250 grams of lead through the back of your skull.

Is it yours?

Yes. Okay, yes, it’s mine.

Are you happy?

[trigger clicks]

Jesus!

Lying… won’t help.

Look. I’m just a guy who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.

Last chance, Evan.

Is… it… yours?

[hyperventilating]

[yelling]

[laughing]

There’s the Treadway I know!

[clicks]

Little trick I learned from you.

Hello, old friend.

[engine revving]

Whoa!

Get in!

Hold on.

Sh*t!

[shouting]

[grunts]

Go! Turn! Turn!

Oh, sh*t!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Go! Go!

Inside! [shouting]

Hold tight.

Oh, sh…

[grunts]

[officer] Cover!

What are you waiting for? Come on, let’s go!

Go the other way!

Take the wheel.

What?

[policeman] Get out of the car!

Yeah, sure. Retractable steering wheel. No problem. That’s normal.

Reverse.

Shoot that son of a b*tch.

[clamoring]

Move! Clear the street!

Shoot the driver!

Jesus Christ!

[policeman] Who are they?

Relax, it’s bulletproof.

180 now!

Don’t stop.

[man yelling]

[men screaming]

[policemen yelling]

[grunts]

Can I ask you a question?

Yeah, sure.

Who the hell are you?

I’m Nora Brightman.

Okay. But who was that dude back there?

Bathurst. You didn’t recognize him?

No, I didn’t. But clearly you did.

Well, you’ve known him a long time.

I’ve never seen that man before in my life. Him, I think I’d remember.

Well, not in this life, maybe.

Oh, no. Maybe I bumped into him during the Second Punic War?

Or maybe it was the French Revolution. I’m bad with dates.

You remember that?

No. I don’t remember the French Revolution.

I figured it out. I see now. I get it.

You do?

None of this is real.

It’s a psychotic break.

I’m gonna wake up in a hospital somewhere, drooling all over myself, strung out on lithium.

Is that easier to believe than the idea that maybe destiny has something more in store for you?

Destiny? Where I come from, we got bills to pay, rent to make.

Nobody’s got time for destiny.

That’s a shame.

I know you’ve been looking for answers, Evan.

But you’re not crazy. You never have been.

No, I’m not crazy. I’m just delusional.

Do you ever find yourself drawn to places you’ve never been?

Do you ever see a picture of a place and just know you’ve been there?

Do you know things you shouldn’t?

Do you pick up things fast, almost as if you’re remembering skills, not learning them?

I’ve told a dozen therapists this.

I’ve been analyzed every way possible, a hundred times over.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Do you dream in other languages?

[speaks Russian, Japanese]

That’s what schizophrenia is. Different people, same head.

What if it were the same person, different lives?

You’re talking about reincarnation.

Yeah.

You can forge a sword because you were a blacksmith.

You speak Russian because you were Russian.

Look, I hate to break it to you.

It’s a comforting idea, souls moving from one body to the next.

But it’s basically just a spiritual equivalent of “better luck next time.” Okay?

Nothing more and nothing less.

Feel safe warm and inside all that cynicism?

I do, actually.

And how’s that working out for you?

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