Klondike Page #13

Camera pivots as he slowly looks up--Dear God what a show--

The Northern Lights. Flickering into existence across the

night sky.

And for a moment we revel in it along with Bill. It’s

staggering.

59.

If only for a moment, alone worth coming this entire way...

BILL(V.O.)

It’s hard to describe. The feeling

of arrival, of accomplishment, of

having come this whole way and

staking a small piece of the world

for yourself, however tiny that

stake was. It was ours. Down to the

center of the earth, we’d earned

that plot of land. It gave you a

sense of potentiality that was as

vast as the sky itself. If you

could do this, what else could you

do? And perhaps in that was the

real wealth to was gained: The

sense that nothing in the world

could stop us.

We linger with Bill, his wonder at that sky above...then...

A gunshot rings out.

Bill wheels, sees that FLAMES are starting to kick up around

their cabin.

He races back across the creek, but before he can get to the

cabin, he finds Epstein, mortally wounded on bank before him.

Epstein struggles to say something, but he can’t. Bill

simultaneously tries to stem the flow of the mortal wound and

scan the surrounding for the assailant.

Nothing. Only darkness.

Around them, flames lick up the cabin’s timbers, consume

their fledgling sluice.

Epstein struggles, fading. As a last act, he reaches up,

seizes Bill’s hand, the one he’s attempted to stanch the

blood’s flow with.

In those hands, that scant beats before together held the

promise of newfound paydirt, now only blood.

Then Epstein expires.

Bill, horrified, scans the environs again.

He scrambles across the dirt, grabs the Remington. Returns to

Epstein’s body.

OFF BILL, a tiny man with his friend dead in his arms, a gun

unfamiliar but necessary in his hands, surrounded by the

illimitable expanse of night and all its unseen threat...

END PILOT:

KLONDIKE - EPISODE 2

"Epstein's Boots'

by

Josh Goldin and Rachel Abramowitz

(Second draft

Created by:
Paul Sheuring

Discovery Channel

Scott/Free Prods. Nov. 24, 2012

FADE IN:

Nothing but fog as far as the eye can see. We could be

anywhere. The Himalayas, Norway... Heaven.

Our view drifts with the fog as it curls over a puddle of

BLOOD (we are definitely not in heaven)... Words appear on

screen:

OUTSIDE DAWSON - ALASKA TERRITORY

WE MOVE UP the body of EPSTEIN. Eyes open and glassy. A

figure stands over him.

It’s Bill. Eyes bloodshot. There are tears somewhere back

there. He leans over his friend. Puts his head on his chest.

ANGLE ON THE TWO BEST FRIENDS

Bill’s breath is visible, coming out in short bursts. No

breath comes from Epstein’s mouth.

The living and the dead.

Tenderly, Bill closes Epstein’s eyes. He loves this man. He

lifts him and places him on a makeshift cart.

Now there are truly tears in Bill’s eyes.

EXT. TRAIL TO DAWSON - LATER

Bill emerges from the fog, dragging the cart on which lies

his best friend. Exhausted eyes filled with ragged

determination.

A blanket covers Epstein’s body. A single booted foot sticks

out.

EMBOSSED ON THE LEATHER OF THE BOOT

is the image of a cowboy whirling a lasso--an emblem of the

adventurous creed Epstein lived by.

ANOTHER SWADDLED FIGURE

passes in the fog. A HARD-FACED woman, also dragging a cart.

Cargo covered with an oil cloth. Her cart hits a bump.

A DEAD hand drops out from under the oil cloth. Small. White.

A child’s hand.

Death a common occurrence here.

Bill looks away... rattled. This is not the world he wants

the world to be.

2.

EXT. TOWN OF DAWSON - LATER

Weak early morning light cuts through the fog. Bill pulls the

cart through the near-empty street. He pauses to stare around

him.

A BAR:

is the only commercial enterprise open at this early hour.

INT. BAR

LAUGHTER and LOUD TALK dims as ...

... a Bill enters, walks up to THE BARTENDER.

BILL:

(quiet)

Where can I find the law?

THE BARTENDER--skinny, sweaty, drunk--heads toward him from

behind the bar.

BARTENDER:

Ain’t no law around here.

Voice of a patron, “You’re IN the Town Hall.”

The bartender notes Bill’s bulky cart through the window.

Doffs his dirty woolen hat in deference.

BARTENDER (CONT’D)

Mortuary ain’t open yet. Animals

gonna get him, you leave him

outside.

BILL:

(intently)

He doesn’t need a mortuary. I

intend to take him home.

PATRON:

Don’t look like he’s got a lotta

walking in him.

Bill turns... Stares with searing eyes at the patron who made

a joke about his dead friend.

BILL:

You make jokes about funny things.

PATRON:

You’re supposed to make jokes about

funny things.

3.

Man’s amped up on booze. A kid nearly, but grown big and

strong. Rises from his stool. Legs shifting, everything about

him shifting.

Just Itching for a fight.

A hand grabs Bill’s shoulder. It’s Soapy.

SOAPY:

Hey, hey... Don’t let him in, don’t

let him in. Your brains’ll be

mixing in with the sawdust.

Bill allows himself to be pulled toward a stool a bit further

down the bar.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

(to bartender)

Give my friend a drink.

The bartender pours. Soapy pushes away the glass.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

Not that cedar bark shite. The good

stuff. Only the good stuff for my

friend.

Turns ingratiatingly to Bill.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

You pay me back later, huh?

A drink is put before Bill, He gulps it down. It lightens him

a bit.

He turns to the window. Outside, a few stragglers pass on the

packed clay street. Across the street, stand a row of

stores... all shut down.

BILL:

Why’s all the stores closed up?

Soapy stares at Bill. Does he really not know?

SOAPY:

Because it’s midnight.

Bill’s fatigued eyes wince in the sunlight coming through the

window. A world where even the sun’s upside down.

BILL:

(some urgency now)

When’s the next boat out of here?

4.

SOAPY:

I’ll answer you straight. I see

you’re an honest man and your query

deserves an honest answer. Boat

comes in two days...

Soapy makes his face go sad in an almost Kabuki way.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

... but your friend won’t be on

it.

Referring to the cargo just outside the bar. A tremble of

anger goes down Bill’s spine.

BILL:

Why’s that, grifter?

SOAPY:

(to bartender)

Give my friend another drink.

Bill pushes away his glass. Doesn’t want another drink.

BILL:

(anger beginning to boil)

Why won’t he be on the boat?

Soapy can’t contain his giddiness any longer.

SOAPY:

Because he’s DAY--ED!

Soapy CACKLES with laughter. A few other patrons join in.

Bill whips around him.

Bill only now takes in his surroundings. Patrons all staring

at him. A dream-like hostility palpable in the dusky light

from kerosene lanterns.

Bill is definitely the outsider here.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

Death brings death. I for one try

to stay away from it lest I catch

what it’s got. Boat captains think

like I do. All of us here and I’m

including you in my arithmetric, we

don’t leave when we’re healthy?

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