Lost Souls Page #13

LITTLE GIRL (CONT'D)

You're so weak.

With a loud, frightened cry, Maya sweeps her arms out,

knocking all the nearby glasses, utensils and dishes to the

floor with a tremendous crash. Milk bleeds over the counter.

All eyes turn to her. Distraught, Maya sees the little girl

and the mother are gone. She grabs her bag and runs out the

diner.

INT. PETER'S APARTMENT - DAY

It's quiet, shadowy. The aquarium has begun a slow leak and

a small puddle of water has pooled beneath it. Peter enters.

He notices the water on the floor. He goes into the bedroom.

INT. PETER'S BEDROOM - DAY

The ledge of the building across the way can be seen from

Peter's window. A WOMAN is moving near the ledge, setting

out a grouping of potted geraniums. From downstairs, a shaft

of light is visible.

Peter changes his clothes Then, he feels the scrape on his

hand. Looks at it. As he moves to the bathroom. Washes his

hand and as he does so, he checks his reflection in the

mirror. Stares at himself a moment, then sticks out his

tongue. Checks it. And then dries his hand, moving back to

the bedroom, carrying his towel with him. Peter glances at

his bed a moment. Half-amused, he leans over and checks

behind the picture hanging above the headboard.

Nothing.

Then, he bends down, checking under the bed. Again, nothing.

Then, he moves to a bedroom closet, pulling down a black and

gray speckled file box.

Inside, a series of newspaper clippings, graphic photos.

Yellowed with age, on of which falls on the bed, titled,

"Unsolved Brutal Murders." Peter riffles past the clippings

to the coroner's report.

He speed reads it, until he gets to his parents' blood types:

"Andrea Kelson - A negative." Jack Kelson - O positive."

Peter stares at the information. Confused by what it's

supposed to mean. Then, he pulls on a turtleneck sweater,

ready to go back out.

PETER:

This is ridiculous.

Peter exits the bedroom and steps back towards the living

room, carrying the towel.

INT. PETER'S LIVING ROOM

Peter passes through to his front door throwing his towel on

the puddle of water.

INT. SECRETARY'S ANTE ROOM - PETER'S OFFICE - DAY

Peter walks in, eyeballing Mrs. Quintana's desk.

MRS. QUINTANA

Good of you to stop by.

PETER:

(breezy)

We millionaires yet?

INT. PETER'S OFFICE - DAY

Peter enters to find Michael. Peter sizes up the man who's

casually studying Peter's personal desk photos.

MICHAEL:

Umm, Melvin Szabo, this is Peter Kelson.

Peter, this is the psychic.

The stranger looks up. He's young and cocky, with thick

glasses. He's holding a picture of Peter with his parents.

PETER:

(to Melvin)

I'd appreciate it if you'd put that

back.

MELVIN:

You are the younger of two...

He puts down that photo and picks up one of Claire, as Peter

walks over to his chair and a position of more control.

MELVIN (CONT'D)

(indicating Claire)

You're afraid of committing to this

girl.

Peter grabs one of his pens and begins rolling it between his

fingers.

MELVIN (CONT'D)

But she worships you. Your mother's

dead but your father's alive.

PETER:

Nothing you couldn't find out from

reading the papers. And you're already

wrong on one count.

MELVIN:

Viznick will get off and Michael's got a

crush on you.

Michael looks alarmed. Peter notices his pen is leaking all

over his hand.

PETER:

You know what? You can go.

MELVIN:

Suit yourself. But does this mean

anything to you?

Melvin picks up a pen and writes "X-E-S" in florid script on

a pad. He holds it out for Peter's inspection. Peter is

rattled.

MELVIN (CONT'D)

You do know, don't you. That these are

also numbers. Greek numbers, 600, 60

and 6 - or 666. The sign of the Devil.

PETER:

Get out of here.

MELVIN:

(pleasantly)

Goodbye.

He sticks out his hand and grabs Peter's. His expression

changes from one of amused disdain to fascinated curiosity.

MELVIN (CONT'D)

Wait a minute...

His arrogance melts away. Melvin's face tightens. A shudder

of fear passes through him.

MELVIN (CONT'D)

(strangled gasp)

God will forgive me...the time of

transformation is so near.

But the voice is that of John Townsend.

PETER:

(really shaken)

Get the f*** out of here!

INT. NYC STREET - DAY

HIGH ANGLE ON:

Peter stands in the middle of the sidewalk as the wind

violently whips at his jacket. He gazes upward to the mute,

gray sky. Finally he lowers his eyes. He sees something

that angers him.

EXT. CATHOLIC CHURCH - DAY

A sprawling Catholic church stands before him. Peter regards

it with wrath. He pushes open the door and tries to enter,

but a group of LITHUANIAN parishioners pushes past him,

blocking his way. A priest calls a farewell.

LITHUANIAN PRIEST (O.S.)

(in Lithuanian)

See you all next week!

The entry finally clear, Peter goes inside.

INT. CATHOLIC CHURCH - CONTINUOUS

It's dark, forbidding. The priest exits around a corner.

Peter looks at the vast and spacious altar. Above it is an

enormous wooden crucifix. Peter moves down the aisle toward

the altar.

ECU:

The sorrowful face of the Christ figure looks down on Peter

with pity. The body hangs, gaunt, wracked with pain. The

wrists pierced by nails, the feet cruelly hammered together.

Peter stops at the first pew. He looks up at the crucifix.

Defiant.

PETER:

Go ahead, do something. Show me.

He waits. For a split-second, there's a pristine silence.

Then the sound of the wind rises in the church. With that,

the right wrist SHATTERS with a noise like a rifle shot.

Freed from one of its supports, the heavy wooden Christ SLAMS

FORWARD at an awkward angle. The other wrist SNAPS IN TWO.

For a second, the Christ figure trembles. Then, with a

sickening sound, the entire wooden body falls forward, swings

sideways and PLUMMETS down. Peter doesn't want to look. The

figure is now hanging upside down, held only by the brace at

its feet. Above it, each hand remains pinned to the cross.

It's an EXACT COPY of Viznick's tattoo.

INT. BIRDSON'S ROOM - DAY

Birdson's eyes open.

EXT. CATHOLIC CHURCH

Peter staggers outside, dodging two DOGS fighting, a vicious

NOISY battle on the Rectory lawn. And in the b.g., a

homeless man takes a piss into a rivulet of white liquid.

Peter walks in a daze, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

EXT. CITY STREETS - DAY

Peter's car moves through traffic, driving slowly,

erratically. He scrapes a parked car, but doesn't stop,

Corners poorly, almost hitting a pedestrian.

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SEMINARY - DAY

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