Insomnia Page #9

ELLIE:

Anything yet?

WILL FRED

Nothing. Nothing.

Fred goes back to scanning, pissed.

FARRELL:

Maybe this guy doesn't read the papers.

HAP:

Or goes straight to the Sports Section.

Hap and Farrell chuckle. Hap unscrews the thermos. A cloud

of steam.

HAP (cont'd)

Who gets first dibs?

(looks up at Will)

Will?

Will looks down at his partner. Holding out the thermos like

a weird kind of truce. Will turns away, rejecting it. A

swath of thick fog unfolds over the black rocks as...

Fred tenses.

FRED:

(looking through binoculars)

I see someone!

Hap and Farrell scramble to their feet. Will whips up his

binoculars.

POV THROUGH WILL'S BINOCULARS - a FIGURE making its way to

the cabin. Furtive.

WILL (O.S.)

That's him.

Will lowers the binoculars. Snaps his fingers at the men.

WILL (cont'd)

Fan out.

Fred, Farrell and Hap. Start spreading out. Ellie steps

up. Will looks back at her. Too dangerous.

WILL (cont'd)

Stay here, Ellie.

ELLIE:

But...

Will puts up his hand. She stops short. He plunges ahead.

Hap. Will. Farrell. Fred. Fanning out. Silent. Keeping

eye-contact. Will points to Farrell. Wants the megaphone.

Farrell, balancing on a rock, holds it out. Accidentally

keys it. The feedback SQUAWKS. F***.

FRED:

He's bolting!

POV THROUGH WILL'S BINOCULARS - the FIGURE, looking around,

running towards the cabin. Leaping from rock to rock.

WILL reaches for his Smith and Wesson.

WILL:

Go! Go! Go!

The men jump into action. Race down towards the cabin.

Fred and Farrell, nimble over the wet rocks. Will and Hap,

harder going. Grab onto jagged edges, slip down small

crevices. Rocks sticking out every which way. The fog,

thick and white...

THE FIGURE disappears into the cabin.

FRED AND FARRELL leap up onto a tall boulder and jump down.

Run over to the door of the cabin, guns at the ready...

WILL rounds the boulder, Hap panting behind him. Joins Fred

and Farrell at the door.

Will levels his Smith and Wesson at the door, and with a nod

to Fred as he KICKS it in...

INT. FISHING CABIN - CONTINUOUS

...the door CRACKS and swings in. The men rush inside.

WILL:

Police!

They look around: Nothing. A few old nets, a wooden table

rotted through. No knapsack.

In the corner, a TRAP DOOR, left open. Will races over.

Looks down into the darkness.

WILL (cont'd)

Goddammit!

Turns and points to Farrell.

WILL (cont'd)

You! Head back up to base...

(to Fred)

You! Go right and follow along the

water...

(to Hap)

Hap! You go left...

The men nod.

WILL (cont'd)

Go!

They rush out the door and split directions. Will crouches

down by the trap door and...

INT. TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS

...drops down into a dark, dank TUNNEL. Water dripping.

FOOTFALLS echoing. Will c*cks his head. Left or right?

Starts sprinting down towards the lighter end of the tunnel,

his own footsteps bouncing against the tunnel walls. He

rounds a curve. Sound recedes...

EXT. TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS

...He exits the tunnel onto the rocky beach. Stops short.

FOG:

has enveloped everything - obscuring all vision, dulling all

sound. Like a strange dream. Eerie.

Will blinks against the thick whiteness. Strains to hear any

sound, anything. There's only the distant LAPPING of the

water.

He tightens his grip on his gun and plunges into the fog.

Quick, careful steps. Stumbles over a rock. Waves his gun

in defense. Eyes wide open like a blind man...

SUDDENLY:

a GUNSHOT. Off to the right. Will whips his head around.

EXT. UP ON THE BEACH - CONTINUOUS

Ellie, alone, jumps at the sound. Reaches for her weapon...

EXT. DOWN THE BEACH - CONTINUOUS

Will heads towards the sound. Reaching out for approaching

rocks. Scrambles over a small bank and finds...

FARRELL rolled up into a fetal position on the ground.

Clutching his thigh. Blood seeping through his fingers. He

looks up.

FARRELL:

Sorry about...

WILL:

Where is he?

Farrell can't answer that.

WILL (cont'd)

(impatient)

Where'd the shot come from?

Farrell lifts his bloody hand. Points off towards the water.

FARRELL:

Over there.

Will disappears back into the fog, leaving Farrell behind.

Clambers back down towards the water, pausing every few

seconds to listen, to adjust. Heart POUNDING. Blood

pumping. Like an animal tracking its prey. Leaps up onto a

plateau of rocks when...

SUDDENLY:

a DARK FIGURE

flashes past him. The killer! Inches away. Will wheels

around...

WILL:

Freeze!

CRACK! Squeezes off a shot. Misses! Can't believe it.

Goes for another... Nothing! Jammed! The figure,

disappearing. Will tosses his Smith and Wesson, reaches

behind his back and whips out his SMITH 39/13...

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