Lost Souls Page #8

The BELL to the elevator DINGS and the door SLIDES open.

Peter inspects the tape with some curiosity, then stuffs it

back into his pocket, momentarily lost in thought. Stepping

into the elevator, he suddenly PULLS in a breath, startled.

PETER (CONT'D)

Mrs. Levotsky, jeez you...

His comment is directed at an impossibly-elderly woman, MRS.

LEVOTSKY. She scowls as though this was the only expression

her parents could afford for her. She holds her cane with

her right hand, with her left she tries to balance her

antiquated laundry cart.

PETER (CONT'D)

Let me help.

But when Peter reaches for the cart, she waves him off with a

deepening in her scowl that we don't want to see get any

deeper. The elevator door slides SHUT.

INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Peter puts the key in his door, apartment 5-A. Glancing down

the hall, he sees Mrs. Levotsky struggle toward her door. As

she feels his stare, she turns slowly around and to Peter.

MRS. LEVOTSKY

What're you look at?

Pissed off, Peter shoves the key into its lock and goes in.

INT. PETER'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS

It's dark, except for refracted light from the building

opposite. Peter FLIPS on the interior lights and we can see

lots of money has been spent here; the interior's warm and

tasteful. It's eclectic, evolved. Works of art pepper the

surroundings. A small, luminous aquarium sits by the entry

wall.

PETER:

(drops food into aquarium)

Hi guys.

(calling)

Claire?

No answer.

INT. PETER'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Peter heads into the open kitchen. The flood lights on the

outside cast strange, distorted shadows of people moving.

Peter reaches down behind the refrigerator and fishes out a

pack of cigarettes. He turns on the vent over the stove and

lights up, blowing the smoke directly up into the vent,

tapping the ashes directly down the sink drain. Unseen by

Peter, a cigarette ash drops and lands on the stove.

INT. PETER'S LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Peter reappears a moment later, holding a bottle of beer.

Takes off his jacket, laying it on top of the sofa. He moves

over to the CD player where he flips on some contemporary

music. Then he takes a long swallow of beer and sits back

down into the sofa.

PETER:

Better.

BUMP, BUMP, BUMP. Peter looks up at the wall, irritated.

PETER (CONT'D)

Mrs. Levotsky, we really need to have a

couple brews and talk one of these days.

Peter takes the remote to the CD, turns up the volume.

CLOSE ON:

The lights on the equalizer. They go from the middle range

of green and yellow up to the orange and occasionally red,

indicating the volume is pushing "complain."

In response, Mrs. Levotsky BANGS on the wall a little harder.

DISSOLVE TO:

CLOSE ON:

A luminous fly-fishing lure, with a black thread body and

wings of transparent green and yellow fabric. It's locked in

a tiny vice, its barbed hook shining.

INT. PETER'S LIVING ROOM

Peter, all concentration, is bent over a magnifying glass,

using two tiny precision hooks to wrap thread onto the lure.

He's at a table in the corner of the living room. A colorful

collection of finished lures are displayed on his work area,

below a watercolor of a man fly-fishing.

Peter gets frustrated as he repeatedly tries to hook a thread

and misses. In the b.g., a leather framed photo of Peter

with his parents at an exquisite lake. Peter pushes himself

back from the table. Takes a beat. Walks over and picks up

the tape Maya gave him.

He studies it for a second. Then he naps off the CD player,

puts the tape on the cassette deck and hits "play." There's

no sound. He turns the volume way up. There's a HUM, but

nothing else. Annoyed, Peter hits "forward," then "play."

Still nothing. He pushes the volume to the top.

PETER:

(to himself)

What'd you expect?

BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. MRS. LEVOTSKY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

From this P.O.V., the HORRENDOUS ROAR of Birdson's EXORCISM

is heard. Mrs. Levotsky raises her cane in desperation...

INT. PETER'S LIVING ROOM

From this P.O.V., the tape continues to play soundlessly.

Peter hears rapid POUNDING from Mrs. Levotsky's apartment.

Faster, more frantic. The pictures on his wall SHAKE

violently.

PETER:

Oh...come on, lady! Give me a break!

Mrs. Levotsky's POUNDING continues for some time. Finally

ending in a booming THUD. Peter looks up at the wall, waits,

then smiles.

PETER (CONT'D)

Little cough syrup will do ya, eh,

granny?

Peter bends down to snap off the tape, failing to notice that

the lights on the equalizer are PUSHING HIGH into the red on

all channels. He turns off the tape and puts on a Sonny

Rollins CD. The music begins at an EAR-PIERCING volume.

Peter scrambles to turn it down, then flops back onto the

sofa.

INT. PETER'S APARTMENT - LATER

The door CLICKS, then opens. Claire moves in carrying bags

of take-out. She sees Peter dozing on the couch.

Claire kneels beside him, gives him a kiss and Peter leaps

out of his sleep with a start.

PETER:

Shi... Sorry, honey. I was having the

weirdest dream.

CLAIRE:

Bad?

PETER:

(doesn't want to go over it)

Weird. The book again. Sex spelled

backwards...

CLAIRE:

I must really be slacking off. Hungry?

PETER:

Uh...sure...I...what?

CLAIRE:

Sushi.

INT. KITCHEN - LATER

Claire is clearing her plate as Peter picks at the remains of

a sushi dinner. Claire notices the cigarette ash Peter

dropped earlier, picking it up and smearing the ash between

her fingers. She shoots a glance at Peter, but does not

comment on her discovery.

CLAIRE:

I can't believe it's already starting to

get dark so early.

PETER:

Hmmm.

CLAIRE:

You know, there was a guy on the radio

today trying to explain why we're losing

daylight. Quarks and dark matter,

things like that. Even how daylight

savings has caught up with us over the

last hundred years and our universal

watch is just fast, you know?

Claire looks up, seeing Peter is lost in thought.

CLAIRE (CONT'D)

Peter, where are you?

PETER:

Sorry. It's just...a strange woman

waltzes into my office today. Tells me

she murdered her parents and can prove

Satan exists.

CLAIRE:

(dismissive)

Did she waltz in or fly on little bat

wings?

PETER:

(unacknowledged)

Says she can get me in to see this

killer.

CLAIRE:

Now that you're on TV, you're a magnet

for all the wackos out there.

Claire sees Peter's thinking about it.

CLAIRE (CONT'D)

Oh, Peter, you're going to pursue this.

PETER:

(sees her concern)

No. Of course not.

(checking out the food)

Mmmm. Anago. My favorite.

INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY

George Viznick's lawyer is seated at the table. He's

impatient. A door opens. A manacled Viznick is brought in

by two GUARDS. His orange prison jumpsuit is badly ripped in

back. A few bruises are visible on his torso. Viznick

stands impassively as his restraints are unlocked.

DEFENSE ATTORNEY

George, come in.

(sees his client)

What the hell happened to you?

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