Klondike Page #14

He pauses for dramatic emphasis... then speaks ominously.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

We gonna be buried here. That’s a

fact. You look hearty now, but no

one can speak to the future.

5.

A threat there. Soapy stares at Bill with what he thinks is a

wise expression.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

The future’s wanton.

BILL:

You take the scenic route, get

where you going, don’t you? Let’s

hear your pitch, grifter.

SOAPY:

I got the gift of gab. A curse and

a blessing. Here’s how it is.

A different look in Soapy’s eyes now. Business excites him.

He lives for it.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

Just because your partner’s gonna

be buried in this hard, cold clay,

don’t mean a man such as you, with

other options, got to.

BILL:

What other options?

Soapy’s eyes are afire with the sexiness of this

opportunity... for him.

SOAPY:

Your claim.

Bill glances around him. Everyone seems to be listening to

the conversation. Awaiting his response

BILL:

It ain’t even been dug on. Might

yield nothing.

SOAPY:

You used a great word there. Might.

Might be something. Might be

nothing. That’s the beauty of a

claim such as yours, staked up in

the hill, the only one so far. It

could be anything.

Soapy’s eyes are searing. He may not be the brightest guy in

the world, but he has an uncanny understanding of what we

call the bottom line.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

What you got to understand is, the

folks around here are hungry for

gold. They’ve travelled a thousand

miles for it. Nearly died for it.

(MORE)

6.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

Images of gold pass before their

eyes before they sleep.

Soapy lowers his voice so he will not be heard by the patrons

around him, all straining to hear their tete e tete.

SOAPY (CONT’D)

A great deal of money will be

invested in ignorance when the need

for delusion is deep. And what you

got in your claim is a beautiful

delusion. Right now, it’s unexamined.

As you say, un-dug...

Bill is staring hard at Soapy. This has been a revelatory

conversation.

BILL:

And you want to be the middle man

for my delusion? Sell it when it’s

hot.

SOAPY:

My proposition is this, and the

deal is over the moment your spade

touches soil. I will pay you one

hundred dollars for your claim AND

I will pay your boat fare out of

Dawson. In legal tender, or gold.

Your choice. Maybe you want gold.

Tell the folks back home, you dug

it out yourself. Be a bit of a

hero.

There may have been a whiff of temptation to the offer... but

Soapy’s last statement is beyond offensive to him.

BILL:

Listen to me and tell this to

anyone wants to know my intentions.

Soapy had been talking in a whisper, but Bill makes his voice

loud enough for all to hear.

BILL (CONT’D)

(eyes searing)

I’m not leaving Dawson until my

friend gets justice.

PATRON:

Jew already got his justice.

This from the patron who tried to pick a fight with Bill

earlier. He’s been waiting for this moment.

Bill has reached what he thinks is the end of his rope

(actually it’s a long, long rope).

7.

The pugnacious patron grins a grinny grin grin. Which

evaporates as Bill tackles him.

THE TWO MEN:

CRASH over a table, splintering it. Bill’s opponent lashes

out at Bill with a broken beer mug... It hits the side of his

forehead.

The patron has the upper hand. Punches Bill hard in the face,

grinning. He loves this sh*t. But Bill scissors his legs

around the patron’s legs, flipping him.

BILL’S OPPONENT

is under Bill now. But in the tumult, he’s pulled a knife.

The knife is at Bill’s throat. Bill holds the blade back with

his left hand.

BLOOD:

seeps out onto the blade as it cuts through the flesh of

Bill’s palm. Excruciating to watch. In seconds the knife will

cut through his hand.

Bill elbows the patron in his face with his free arm... and

the knife drops. Bill punches his opponent in the face so

hard, the man nearly passes out.

Bill rises, kicks the knife across the sawdust-spattered

floor.

Bill’s hand is bloody. So is his forehead. He glares at the

patrons, all gathered around watching. Bill looks half

crazed.

BILL:

(growls it out)

You’re not getting rid of me that

easily. You’re not getting rid of

me.

But the patrons are no longer staring at Bill. They are

staring past him... at a commotion out the window. Bill whips

around.

THROUGH THE WINDOW

we see A SMALL CROWD surrounding Epstein’s body. Vultures

over carrion.

EXT. SALOON - SAME TIME

Bill SLAMS his way through the crowd. Dispersing them.

8.

EPSTEIN’S CORPSE

is half off the cart now. Jostled. Picked over.

HIS DEAD FEET:

wear only socks.

Bill shouts impotently at the now-empty street

BILL:

Goddamit, you took his boots!! What

kind of man would steal a dead

man’s...

But he doesn’t bother saying the rest of the sentence.

BILL’S EXHAUSTED EYES

say it all. He’s in the third circle.

ANGLE ON BARTENDER

behind the sanctuary of his bar.

BARTENDER:

(cracked smile)

Animals got him.

END OF TEASER:

9.

ACT TWO:

ANGLE ON EPSTEIN

lying on hard, frozen earth now. OUR VIEW loosens to reveal

he’s lying in a veritable garden of bodies. We are:

EXT. MORTUARY - MORNING

THE MORTICIAN--the plumpest man in Dawson--stands with Bill

over the corpse. Wind whips his hair. We can feel the chill.

MORTICIAN:

I’m sorry, sir. No way we can bury

him today. No way, no how. Too many,

um... passengers ahead of him.

Bill puts two more coins into the mortician’s hands. The

mortician nods gravely.

MORTICIAN (CONT’D)

We will hasten to dispatch him to

the angels.

ON BELINDA:

entering the area as Bill is leaving. She is dressed somberly

for the occasion, but her dress clings. It can’t help itself.

BELINDA:

I heard about what happened. I came

to pay my respects.

BILL:

I hope he’s in a better place.

Glances with distaste at his surroundings. Remembers his

manners.

BILL (CONT’D)

Thanks for coming. He would have

appreciated it.

Belinda holds him with her very presence. She enjoys this

kind of power. Belinda wipes a tiny bit of oil under her

nose. Offers her vial to him.

BELINDA:

Mint oil. For the smell.

Knew he’d refuse. Puts the vial back in her purse.

BELINDA (CONT’D)

May I ask your intentions? Will you

plunge into your virgin claim, or

will you be going home? Back to

Maine is it?

10.

BILL:

Vermont.

BELINDA:

Vermont. First state in the union

to allow female suffrage.

(musing)

Seemed important when I lived in

the lower 45. Now seems quaint.

Voting for which man will have

power over you.

She stares appraisingly at him.

BELINDA (CONT’D)

I like you. Selfishly I’d like you

around. But your friend drew fire

on account of, I believe, where you

and he staked your claim. I worry

about you.

BILL:

Your worry will be my good luck

charm.

BELINDA:

I hope it works.

Bill nods, gives her a quick smile and heads out. Belinda

stares after him, in no hurry. She’s never in a hurry.

BELINDA (CONT’D)

He was a good friend, wasn’t he?

Bill turns. Something different about Belinda now. Genuine

feeling in her eyes.

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