No Country for Old Men Page #7

Holding on the mirror we see him walk back into the main

room and stop, looking around. He looks slowly up to the

ceiling.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY

CLOSE ON A SCREW

Being unscrewed. Wider shows us Moss, standing on the bed,

unscrewing the vent on an overhead airduct.

He gets down off the bed, unzips his duffle bag and takes

the document case out of it. He opens the case, takes out a

packet of bills, counts out some money and puts it in his

pocket. He refastens the case.

He goes to the window and cuts off a length of the curtain

cord. He ties the curtain cord to the handle of the document

case. He goes to the closet, leaving the case on the bed.

He reaches into the empty closet, lifts the coat rail off

its supports and lets the hangers slide off onto the floor.

INT. LOOKING DOWN THE AIRDUCT - DAY

The duct hums with a low, airy compressor sound. The

galvanized metal stretches away to a distant elbow. The

document case is plunked down in the foreground and then

gently pushed down the length of the tube by the coat pole.

The free end of the cord trails off the handle for retrieval.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAY

THE DUFFLE:

Moss unzips it and pulls out the machine pistol and the .45

that he took off the dead man. He lifts the mattress and

stashes the machine pistol underneath. He checks the chamber

of the .45 and stuffs it in his belt.

INT. MOTEL ROOM/EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY

THE WINDOW:

Moss pulls back one curtain to look out at the lot.

Nothing there disturbs him.

He closes the curtains, crossing one over the other.

He goes out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

INT. ROADSIDE DINER - DAY

PHONE BILL:

A pencil taps at a Del Rio number that repeats on the bill.

We hear phone-filtered rings.

The rings are cut off by the clatter of a hang-up. The pencil

moves to an Odessa number, the only other repeat on the short

list of toll calls.

We cut up to Chigurh as he finishes dialing, in the booth of

a roadside diner. Dusk.

Phone-filtered rings. Connection; a woman's voice:

WOMAN:

Hello?

CHIGURH:

Is Llewelyn there?

WOMAN:

Llewelyn?! No he ain't.

CHIGURH:

You expect him?

The woman's voice is old, querulous:

WOMAN:

Now why would I expect him? Who is

this?

Chigurh stares for a short beat, then prongs the phone.

INT. A SMALL GENERAL STORE - DAY

Moss is standing in front of a rack of cowboy boots at the

back of the store. He looks up at an approaching salesman, a

bow-legged old man in a white shirt.

SALESMAN:

Hep you?

MOSS:

I need the Larry Mahan's in black,

size 11.

SALESMAN:

Okay.

MOSS:

You sell socks?

SALESMAN:

Just white.

He gathers up a brown paper bag from a pharmacy.

MOSS:

White is all I wear. You got a

bathroom?

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Moss is sitting on the toilet taking off socks with bloody

soles. Sneakers sit on the floor. The pharmacy bag sits next

to them.

He sprays disinfectant on his feet. He takes out bandages.

INT. SHOE STORE - DAY

Moss is returning. The bowlegged salesman stands in the aisle

holding aloft a pair of boots.

SALESMAN:

Ain't got Larries in black but I got

'em in osta-rich. Break in easy.

INT. CAB/EXT. DEL RIO MOTEL - NIGHT

It is rolling to a stop in front of Charlie Goodnight's Del

Rio Motor Hotel.

Moss fishes for his wallet but stops, looking.

Parked in the street in front of the motel is an offroad

truck with roof lights.

MOSS:

Don't stop. Just ride me up past the

rooms.

DRIVER:

What room?

MOSS:

Just drive me around. I want to see

if someone's here.

The cab rolls slowly up the lot.

MOSS:

...Keep going.

His pivoting point-of-view of his room. The window shows a

part between the curtains.

MOSS:

...Keep going. Don't stop.

DRIVER:

I don't want to get in some kind of

a jackpot here, buddy.

MOSS:

It's all right.

DRIVER:

Why don't I set you down here and we

won't argue about it.

MOSS:

I want you to take me to another

motel.

DRIVER:

Let's just call it square.

Moss reaches a hundred-dollar bill up to the driver.

MOSS:

You're already in a jackpot. I'm

trying to get you out of it. Now

take me to a motel.

The driver reaches up for the bill then turns the cab out of

the parking lot onto the hiway. Moss turns to look at the

receding lights of the motel.

EXT. THROUGHWAY INTERCHANGE - NIGHT

PAVEMENT:

Rushing under the lens, lit by headlights.

From high up we see a throughway interchange as Chigurh's

Ramcharger takes the right fork of the highway under a green

sign for Del Rio.

INT. THE RAMCHARGER - NIGHT

Chigurh looks down at the passenger seat. On it lies the

transponder, powered on but silent. Next to it is a machine

pistol with a can-shaped silencer sweated onto the barrel.

The transponder beeps once.

Chigurh looks up. We are approaching a steel bridge. The

headlights pick up a large black bird perched on the aluminum

bridge rail.

The passenger window hums down.

Chigurh picks up the pistol and levels the barrel across the

window frame.

The truck bumps onto the bridge, its tires skipping over the

seams in the asphalt. As it draws even the bird spreads its

wings and Chigurh fires-a muted thump like a whoosh of air.

From high overhead: the bullet hits the guardrail making it

hum as the Ramcharger recedes and the bird lifts into the

darkness, heavily flapping its wings.

INT. CAFE - MORNING

Morning. Bell sits drinking coffee. Wendell stands in the

aisle handing something over.

WENDELL:

He labs from Austin on the man by

the highway.

Bell takes the papers and starts to look at them.

BELL:

What was the bullet?

WENDELL:

Wasn't no bullet.

This brings Bell's look up.

BELL:

Wasn't no bullet?

WENDELL:

Yessir. Wasn't none.

BELL:

Well, Wendell, with all due respect,

that don't make a whole lot of sense.

WENDELL:

No sir.

BELL:

You said entrance wound in the

forehead, no exit wound.

WENDELL:

Yes sir.

BELL:

Are you telling me he shot this boy

in the head and then went fishin'

around in there with a pocket knife?

WENDELL:

Sir, I don't want to picture that.

BELL:

Well I don't either!

A beat during which both men picture it, ended by an arriving

waitress.

WAITRESS:

Can I freshen that there for you

Sheriff?

The Sheriff's distressed look swings on to her.

BELL:

Yes Noreen you better had. Thank

you.

WENDELL:

The Rangers and DEA are heading out

to the desert this morning. You gonna

join 'em?

BELL:

I don't know. Any new bodies

accumulated out there?

WENDELL:

No sir.

BELL:

Well then I guess I can skip it.

Heavens to Betsy, Wendell, you already

put me off my breakfast.

EXT. SPORTING GOODS STORE - DAY

Moss pushes off from the wall he was leaning against: someone

inside the glass double doors is stooping to unlock them.

INT. SPORTING GOODS STORE - GUN COUNTER - DAY

The clerk is handing a shotgun across the counter.

CLERK:

Twelve gauge. You need shells? Moss

looks the gun over.

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