Nine Miles Down Page #5

- Yeah, sure.

- It's like a safety helmet to me.

- Maybe there's something else further on.

Oh man, you're behaving as if you're

soring up to a thrown hell out there...

You're on extended sick leave

until further notice.

Jackman! your gun.

Well, speaking of the devil...

it's Jack.

Hey Jacko.

You alright?

- What's wrong?

- It's her.

- Jack, what!

- You almost got away with it, didn't you!

- Jack, what are you doing?

- I'm seeing you as you really are.

- What are you talking about?

- Jack!

F*** off! You don't understand,

you haven't seen what I've seen!

- Jack, please explain.

- Explain?

- Yes...

- So you could twist the truth again?

No, not this time.

No, shut up!

Please. Please, Jack.

No, not this time, JC..

You've run out of lot

of explanations.

It is the devil!

Please, Jack. no.

- It's courage!

- No, no, no.

Let go of me!

You have to understand!

Who are you?

I don't know you.

Who are you?

You are laughing at me.

Oh, God.

Hell is in your head.

There's always a logical explanation.

Your anger settles right in yourself tight.

It's all in your mind.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

To fear the unknown is dangerous.

Stop!

Call the doctor!

- It's not her blood, it's not her blood!

- I'm fine.

Jack went crazy again.

He stole my gun.

- He ran into the quarter. He's nuts.

- He's gonna do it like Borman and Susan.

He's gonna do...

He's gonna do it like Borman und Susan.

Okay, Sue, you win.

I'll give you what you want.

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