Klondike Page #5

BILL (CONT’D)

Ep...Come on, Ep....!

And out comes Epstein, gasping, shocked.

EPSTEIN:

Jesus Christ...Jesus Christ!

As he catches his breath, the mist settling, Bill holds up

his lantern, looks downslope. Epstein follows his gaze.

Below, where seconds before there had been a trail of lights

connoting the miners...there is only darkness.

No lights. Not a single one.

END ACT ONE:

21.

ACT TWO:

EXT. CHILKOOT PASS - DAWN

Death.

The rising sun illuminates the aftermath of the avalanche:

bodies--already in rictus--being pulled from the snow by

those lucky enough to survive. Townspeople, working their way

up to the torn, pockmarked slope.

And Bill & Epstein--assisting--seeing familiar faces being

pulled from snowy tombs--the Fat Society dame, her Servant...

Epstein can barely speak. Aside, to Bill:

EPSTEIN:

If we’d still been down here...

(..we’d be dead, but...)

You and your goddamn half-kit,

brother.

He looks to Bill. That small choice likely saved their lives.

EPSTEIN (HEARTFELT) (CONT’D)

Thank you.

EXT. CHILKOOT PASS - LATER

Bill & Epstein move through the carnage--bodies being loaded

onto sleds once designed to carry these people and their

dreams to the promised land--now conscripted to carry them

downslope to their grave.

Bill watches as Father Judge says prayers over the half dozen

or so fallen. Epstein, sensing the thoughts behind Bill’s

ashen demeanor:

EPSTEIN:

You’re not thinking about quitting,

are you?

Bill doesn’t respond.

EPSTEIN (CONT’D)

It ain’t gonna bring them back.

It’s not.

Epstein turns, looks up at the ridge. They’re that close.

Bill looks to him, then back down at the dead...

EXT. CHILKOOT PASS - LATER

The slope, a near-impossible 45 degrees. Bill & Epstein

strain against gravity as they pull their sleds ever higher.

Behind Bill’s goggles: eyes hollow, haunted, on auto-pilot.

He presses on, ever harder--the ridge just above--the mud and

rocks calving beneath his feet.

22.

Below, Epstein senses Bill’s dogged drive:

EPSTEIN:

Go easy, brother. Maybe you oughta

slow it down...

But Bill presses on-

EXT. CHILKOOT RIDGE - DAY

--and moments later crests the ridge. As does Epstein beside

him a moment later. Both men pulling away their goggles from

their blackened faces. Tears come to Bill’s eyes. A near-

broken man. But unbowed.

Both men look ahead, o.s., with astonishment...

EXT. CHILKOOT RIDGE - CONTINUOUS

Camera rises behind them, revealing on the other side, a

chasm in the clouds, allowing the sun’s full radiance to fall

on the basin on the other side.

Everything is visible: the splendor of far-off snow-capped

mountain ranges. The fluid magnificence of the caribou herds.

A string of frozen lakes like diamonds on the land.

It is nature unfettered. So sublime it seems incapable of the

raw fury it unleashed just pages earlier.

For a long time, they just behold it.

EXT. CHILKOOT RIDGE - LATER

Epstein, peering down the far side of the ridge. A long,

steep pure slope of snow slants away toward the valley floor

below. 100 years later, this is a snowboarder’s dream. A

long, untrammeled ride...

EPSTEIN:

Takes us almost 2 weeks to get

up...what do you reckon it'll take

to get down?

BILL:

If we walk it, few days...

EPSTEIN (NODS TO HIS SLED)

And if we sled it?

Bill considers his sled, then the steep slope.

BILL:

10 minutes. If we don't break our

necks.

EPSTEIN:

Maybe we walk it then.

Bill eyes the black-diamond slope again.

23.

BILL (WEARY)

Goddamn am I tired of walking.

EPSTEIN:

Hoping you would say that.

They share a look. Ease their sleds toward the cornice.

And for the first time in 3 weeks, let gravity claim them.

Two sleds & two men drop down onto the slope. And in moments

are roaring valley-ward...

It’s a short-cut. A thrill-seeker’s move. Simultaneously an

adrenaline rush and horrifying...

Down they go, white-knuckled, runnels of tears streaming from

their wind blown eyes-

EXT. FROZEN LAKE / MAKESHIFT COMMUNITY - MOMENTS LATER

CRASH! A few beats later, Bill’s sled finally careens,

catches an edge, and flips, spilling him onto the snow in a

tumble.

He’s at the bottom, though. Flat land. For a moment, he just

sits there, a smile threatening to cross his lips for the

first time in days. The mountain, in that moment,

beneficent...

Then a pair of boots appears beside him in the snow. Shiny,

well-polished Balmorals. Delicate. A woman’s.

He looks up to see something so wholly anomalous upon this

landscape that he can scarcely process.

A woman. SABINE, 20s. Good-looking, too.

SABINE:

I trust you had a good ride.

Bill stands. Fresh off 3 weeks of blizzard, fatigue, and near-

delirium, he’s wholly unprepared for witty rapport.

BILL:

I, uh, I did.

Bill quickly takes in the surroundings, a couple other

prospectors are visible, bivouacked for the day.

Bill fumbles a bit, both with his tongue and the glove he

tries to remove to shake her hand:

BILL (CONT’D)

Bill, uh...Bill...

You get the sense that Sabine’s accustomed to this. Men

fumbling before her beauty. Playfully:

SABINE:

Nice to meet you Billa Bill.

24.

He finally gets his glove off. Shakes her hand. There’s a

great asymmetry here--she in her fineries, he looking like

he’s just returned from polar exploration-

BILL:

It’s Haskell, actually. Bill

Haskell.

SABINE:

Sabine.

There’s a half beat in which they meet eyes with enough

mutual appreciation that we think this might be the start of

something--down the road, perhaps--then-

EPSTEIN (O.S.)

Lady, you are either a dream or a

mirage.

Reveal Epstein, a weather-beaten abomination like Bill,

tramping across the snow toward them. He thrusts a mitt

toward her.

EPSTEIN (CONT’D)

But either way, I’m going with it.

Byron Epstein.

As she clasps his hand, nodding politely--CUT TO--

EXT. FROZEN LAKE / MAKESHIFT COMMUNITY - LATER

Along the river, a makeshift camp: two dozen people, toiling

to build boats--essentially from scratch--along the

shoreline...

Bill & Epstein follow Sabine through it all.

SABINE:

Heard about the avalanche.

(it’s a shame)

Third one this year.

(knowing exhale)

Can only reckon you two're bound

for Dawson City like the rest of

us. "Paris of the North".

BILL (SURPRISED)

Wouldn't expect a Paris anywhere up

here.

SABINE:

There's a lot of things up here you

wouldn't expect.

Said as they pass the first of the many self-styled

entrepreneurs they will encounter going forward--a weathered

vet--call him BOATSELLER-

BOATSELLER:

Got a vessel:
tarred, sealed;

proven workhorse that’s already

made the journey up and back.

(MORE)

25.

BOATSELLER (CONT'D)

Put a hundred in my hand and I’ll

give you the oars.

As they pass, to Sabine-

BILL:

100 bucks. Boat’s worth 5 tops!

SABINE:

Not if it gets you upriver first

and you get your hands on that

million dollar claim.

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