Passenger 57 Page #12

---

ANOTHER COP:

(as he hangs up a phone)

Chief, we've got reports of gunfire coming from over near the fairgrounds.

CHIEF:

(rising anger)

Put them both together they spell 'Cutter.' Get some men over there and nail his ass.

As the Cops scramble for the exit...

CUT TO:

132G EXT. FAIRGROUNDS - MIDWAY 132G

ANGLE DOWN FROM a big banner that proclaims "COUNTY FAIR -- FIREWORKS TONITE!" In the crowd, we find Cutter on the hunt, effectively disguised in the leather jacket.

A LOUD SCREAM. Cutter reacts but it's only a couple of teenagers on the ferris wheel. Cutter continues on, pushing through the dense crowd. The gun in his pocket is a reassuring weight but he's clearly worried. Wolfgang and innocent people are a lethal combination.

We RACK FOCUS. Behind Cutter, Wolfgang steps out of a telephone booth. Like a shark, he glides silently up behind Cutter and ever so gently pokes his gun into Cutter's back. Cutter stiffens.

WOLFGANG:

(in Cutter's ear)

Lovely night. Let's go for a walk... hero.

Cutter does as he's told, wondering how the hell Wolfgang recognized him.

WOLFGANG:

Nice 'disguise.' How did you resist wearing a neon sign?

They walk past a distortion mirror. Cutter glances at his reflection and sees that the back of his leather jacket is decorated with big letters that spell out "ARYAN ARMY."

CUTTER:

(feeling like a chump)

I gotta get some new brains.

WOLFGANG:

(amused)

I'm curious to know how a black man got into a Neo-Nazi bike gang.

CUTTER:

I promised to introduce them to Michael Jordan.

WOLFGANG:

A sense of humor. I like that in a corpse.

(as they walk)

Now, very gently, remove the pistol from your pocket and drop it into the nearest trash receptacle. Any hesitation and I'll blow a hole through your spine. And if that's not incentive enough, I assure you I have no problem with wasting a few bystanders.

As they pass a trash can. Cutter carefully removes his pistol and drops it in.

WOLFGANG:

Very good.

CUTTER:

Now what?

WOLFGANG:

We walk and we talk. Get to know each other. I don't usually care who I kill but in your case I'm willing to make an exception. You fascinate me. But first things first. What happened to the young man I sent to kill you?

CUTTER:

He's taking a nap in some cow sh*t.

They pass the carousel with its HURDY GURDY MUSIC, spinning lights and happy children. For a brief moment, Wolfgang savors the scene with an almost child-like wistfulness.

WOLFGANG:

Quite a fascinating place, wouldn't you agree? I've never actually been to a county fair before. I've never even been on a carousel.

CUTTER:

You poor little thing. I'll bet you had a deprived childhood.

WOLFGANG:

My childhood was a nightmare.

CUTTER:

You're adulthood's no golden dream.

WOLFGANG:

And you're no ordinary passenger. Who are you?

(poking Cutter with the gun)

If you don't tell me, somebody will die. Maybe you... maybe one of them.

Cutter's blood freezes. He looks around at the happy, unsuspecting people on the midway. Teenagers. Toddlers. Moms and Dads. A whole cross-section of humanity.

WOLFGANG:

Let's see. Who shall it be? The fat girl with the ice cream cone? Too easy. How about the sailor trying to impress his girl friend? Wait. Just the thing. A pair of identical twins...

Cutter simply has no choice.

CUTTER:

My name's John Cutter.

WOLFGANG:

Don't lie. I'll know if you lie.

CUTTER:

I'm a security specialist working for Trans Pacific. I asked the local cops to let me take you down without causing a scene. They're watching us right now.

WOLFGANG:

I hardly think so. You're a lone wolf. Cutter. I know the breed. I assume you know who I am.

CUTTER:

I'm your biggest fan.

WOLFGANG:

You're very clever. Very resourceful. Dumping the fuel was quite brilliant.

CUTTER:

Thanks. I've never been complimented by a psychopath before.

WOLFGANG:

Well, it takes one to know one. I could use a man like you. Cutter, but I'm sure you're hopelessly tied to some sense of morality. We're not really that different, you and me. We're both killers.

CUTTER:

The people I've killed were scum. They had it coming. The people you kill are innocent.

WOLFGANG:

Innocent? Who says they're innocent? I'm surprised at you, Cutter. Haven't you figured it out by now? The world is a hell. It doesn't matter what we do in it.

CUTTER:

Wolfgang, I hope you won't take this the wrong way... but you are one sick f***... and it's gonna be a pleasure to kill you.

WOLFGANG:

(can't believe Cutter's nerve)

Kill me? Cutter, you need a reality check.

Fiona comes toward them. She recognizes Cutter.

FIONA:

Back from the dead?

WOLFGANG:

Vincent failed. Where's Priest?

FIONA:

Waiting with the bus. We borrowed it from a Baptist church group.

(indicating Cutter)

What about him?

WOLFGANG:

We'll kill him on the bus and dump his body in the swamp. Let's go.

132H ANGLE 132H

Fiona leads Cutter and Wolfgang down the midway. In the distance sits a battered yellow church bus on the edge of the parking area, belching black exhaust fumes,

Cutter notices police arriving on the scene. The Cops are mingling with the crowd, obviously on the lookout. Wolfgang sees them, too.

CUTTER:

They're looking for me.

WOLFGANG:

They can't have you. I found you first.

They continue along the midway, careful not to attract attention, approaching...

132I OPEN-AIR STAGE 132I

Where a pie and cake auction is underway. A folksy AUCTIONEER in a cowboy suit examines the next item, a pit displayed by its creator, a twelve-year-old Cajun girl.

AUCTIONEER:

(into a microphone)

What do we have here? Looks like a lovely pecan pie baked by Suzanne Belreve, a sixth grader from Natchitoches . Mnunnun, that do smell good. I'm gonna start the bidding at five dollars. Who's gonna gimme six?

As Cutter moves past the assembled crowd, flanked by Wolfgang and Fiona, he realizes he has to take a chance,

MAN IN CROWD:

Six!

ANOTHER MAN:

Seven!

AUCTIONEER:

Seven. Do I hear eight?

VOICE (V.O.)

Fifty bucks!

The crowd lets out a collective gasp. Heads turn, seeking the owner of the voice. It's Cutter, wearing a big grin. Wolfgang and Fiona are momentarily flummoxed. They can't believe it. On stage, the Cajun girl's eyes light up with excitement. Fifty dollars!

AUCTIONEER:

Did you say fifty bucks?

CUTTER:

(feeling generous)

What the hell, make it a hundred!

A bigger gasp. This attracts the attention of other people strolling the midway. They drift over to see what's going on. Even the Cops are pressing closer to see who the big spender is. Wolfgang feels his power slipping away:

WOLFGANG:

(hissing in Cutter's ear)

Enough.

CUTTER:

What's that? Two hundred? Hey! My buddy here bids two hundred!

Now everybody's looking at Wolfgang!

Just what Cutter wanted. He takes advantage of the situation and steps away, burrowing deeper into the crowd. Wolfgang squirms. He looks like a rat trapped in a corner. This is the first time we've ever seen him flustered.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes