Kafka Page #12

CUT:

THE QUARRIES - NIGHT

On the outskirts of the city, beyond the Castle.

Mr. Pick and the Strange Man approach. Some distance behind

them, Kafka takes cover behind a tree, watching.

Mr. Pick leads the Strange Man down the central quarry to

where a third man, a LABORER by the look of him, is waiting.

Kafka finds a vantage point somewhere above the central

quarry. He flattens himself on the ground and peers over the

edge.

In the quarry, Mr. Pick steps back a pace from the Strange

Man as they meet up with the Laborer and suddenly grabs the

Strange Man, pinning his arms behind him, baring his chest

or the Laborer to stab a dagger into!

Kafka is shocked by the abruptness of this. He sees the

Strange Man slump to the ground. He crawls a little closer.

He sees the Laborer replace the knife in its sheath on his

belt, then help Mr. Pick drag the Strange Man off to some

side shadows where they dump him.

Kafka strains forward a little, trying to make out their

faces -- and the ground gives way!

MR. PICK AND THE LABORER

Spin around at the noise.

KAFKA:

Lands at the bottom of the incline, dazed. He's still quite

far away from the other end of the quarry where they are.

MR. PICK AND THE LABORER

Look at each other once -- then go after the intruder.

KAFKA:

Sees them coming. Scrambles to his feet. It takes him a

split second to establish his options. Namely, the best

route is back up the way he came. If only he can get up it

again as fast.

Mr. Pick and the Laborer start to run.

Kafka starts to climb. The incline is steep. The gravel is

loose. He slips back down.

Mr. Pick and the Laborer are gaining speed.

Kafka digs his fingers into the dirt, pulling himself up with

all his might, even though his shoes don't sustain holds.

Mr. Pick is a better runner than the burly Laborer. He's

almost there.

Kafka slips back down again. Mr. Pick could almost grab him

-- but Kafka literally throws himself up the slope again,

gasping -- and Mr. Pick stretches but can't reach that far

and Kafka's nearly at the top again -- Mr. Pick climbing

after him now -- and Kafka's arm comes over the edge, he

struggles over, kicking gravel back down in Mr. Pick's face.

Mr. Pick slides back down to the bottom -- and Kafka's gone.

The Laborer fell over Mr. Pick as he came crashing back down,

now Mr. Pick pushes him off in one direction while he goes

another.

CUT:

SLOPING STREET:

Escaping back into the Old Quarter, Kafka runs downhill. But

even the momentum doesn't carry him as fast as he'd like.

SMALL SQUARE:

A number of streets branching off. Kafka sees Mr. Pick

coming down one of them -- and the Laborer coming down

another. Kafka runs off along a third.

CIRCUITOUS PASSAGE

Kafka runs. Looks behind him. Mr. Pick is coming. He runs

faster, under a weird archway. Looks behind him. Mr. Pick

and the Laborer are coming. Kafka darts down a side street.

SIDE STREET:

Another twisting little road. He winds around one corner

only to be met by another, the end of this street impossible

to determine.

BEHIND HIM:

Mr. Pick and the Laborer are catching up.

KAFKA:

Turns another corner and finds himself at the bottom of an

incredibly long flight of steps. A staired street. On and

on and on. He doesn't know if he can make it.

MR. PICK AND THE LABORER

Come around -- look at the steps -- look at each other. They

take deep breaths and start up.

THE TOP:

Here they come, huffing and puffing.

THE BOTTOM:

Kafka comes out from behind an extravagantly designed iron

gate grillwork. He sneaks away, back the way he came.

CUT:

THE CENTRAL QUARRY

The body of the Strange Man lies face down where it was

dropped.

Kafka walks toward it, looking around nervously in case

anyone's coming. Someone is. When he gets to the corpse he

hears the sound of an approaching WAGON. He crouches quickly

by the body to do what he's come here to do -- turn it over

to look at --

THE FACE:

Of a monster. Horribly disfigured, scarred and stitched.

And it isn't the kind of patchwork mess caused by acid or

accident. There seems to be design behind it. Human

design. And beneath all this warped, mutilated flesh, almost

unrecognizable ... the features of the vagrant snatched from

the River.

KAFKA'S FACE

Revulsion. He goes.

THE WAGON:

Parks above the quarry. The evil-looking Driver jumps down

and pulls a large sack off the back. He starts down into the

quarry.

KAFKA:

Appears over another edge. He looks over at the wagon. He

sees that now the back is loaded up, and covered by a sheet

of tarpaulin.

CUT:

THE ANARCHISTS' ATTIC - NIGHT

All the bodies are gone. Even the floorboards and pieces of

furniture that might have had blood stains on them have been

torn away and removed. Kafka stands alone.

CUT:

THE CITY - NIGHT

An eerie moon shines over the Castle.

KAFKA'S HOUSE

He comes in. Before taking off his coat, he finds in a

pocket Inspector Grubach's card. But what can he do again

without evidence? He puts the card back in the pocket.

CUT:

KAFKA'S DESK - BEFORE DAWN

He sits writing into the night in his little room under a low

ceiling.

KAFKA'S VOICE

"-- oh, and thank you for the suit

from Father, although I don't know

why he didn't simply return it. If

it's too small for him why do you

immediately suppose it will fit me?

... Your son ... Your loving son ...

Your somewhat loving son ... Your

occasionally loving son ... Your

incapable-of-loving son ... Your

absolutely-bored-to-death-with-any-

kind-of-family-life son ..."

The BARKING of a DOG outside distracts him. He stands up to

stretch by his open window -- and we SEE that he's wearing a

suit that's far too big for him, sleeves overhanging his

skinny arms and ands, trouser bottoms drowning his shoes.

He looks out at the sky which is turning blue.

THE BRIDGE:

Two men walk across the river.

A WAGON:

Rolls along one of the moribund streets of the Old Town. The

Driver swivels in his seat, looking over his wide shoulder,

as if to see if he's being followed. The glint in his eye

suggests Evil.

KAFKA'S ROOM

Kafka puts a stamp on his letter, then adds it to the stack

of obsessive correspondence already piled on one corner of

his desk.

CUT:

THE OFFICE - EVENING

With an ink-pad stamp, Kafka POUNDS the date onto a

succession of documents.

THE OFFICE CLOCK

Strikes six.

THE ASSISTANTS:

Jump in unison when the BELL goes off. Then in their hurry

to leave start shoving all their papers and whatnots

haphazardly into various drawers, opening and slamming them

regardless of whether or not the contents are fully inside,

resulting in a lot of crumpled documents and snapped pencils.

BURGEL:

Suddenly hovering by Kafka's side, handing him something.

BURGEL:

The Chief Clerk would like this

ready for tomorrow morning.

(oily)

He says it should only take you

an extra hour or two.

CUT:

THE OFFICE - NIGHT

Dead silence after the daily racket of typewriters and

telephones and adding machines. Kafka works alone in the

utterly deserted office building.

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