Point Break Page #27

TIGHT ON DUFFEL BAG, as it opens. The pistol grip of a 12

gauge riot-gun sticks out of lots and lots of money.

Roach's hand slides the gun out slowly.

UTAH IS VERY CLOSE to Bodhi.

UTAH:

I know you man, when they fall on

you, you won't back down. They'll

have to burn your ass to the ground.

And I can't stop them... I'm the

last person they're ready to listen

to right now. Thanks to you.

UTAH:

Sh*t may or may not happen.

UTAH:

Look, you got a death wish, you want

to ride to glory... fine! But don't

take her with you, man. I'm begging

you... tell me where she is. Then I

walk away. We've earned that much

trust, haven't we?

The pilot opens the door and is climbing out when

Nathaniel wheels on him. The pilot goes cross-eyed

staring down the muzzle of the 12 gauge, inches from his

face.

BODHI:

(to the pilot)

Back in the hotseat, campadre.

NOW!

BEHIND THE TRUCKS, Pappas senses something.

His head snaps around.

Roach is behind him with the 12 gauge. He FIRES.

Pappas hurls his weight sideways, as the buckshot punches

into the truck fender. Some of it catches Pappas in the

hip. He hits the ground hard and whips up the .38 BAM!

BAM! BAM!

Roach flips onto his back.

The shotgun blows a hole in the sky as he hits the deck.

Pappas is on the ground, totally exposed, 20 feet from the

others.

NATHANIEL fires once, wild. Terrified. His shot blows a

divot out of the asphalt next to Pappas.

He pumps the slide, chambering another round.

Then Pappas' fourth and fifth rounds drill into him.

He slams back against the Cessna's fuselage.

Slides down. Two red smears on the white aircraft.

Bodhi lunges for the fallen 12 gauge.

Pappas takes aim. One round left.

Utah sprints between them.

UTAH:

Angelo! Don't fire!

PAPPAS:

Kid, get outta the way!!

UTAH:

NOOO!!

Utah is blocking Bodhi with his body.

Bodhi's fingers are poised, frozen, a few inches from the

shotgun.

Standoff.

PAPPAS:

GODDAMMIT!!

He snaps the pistol up, aimed at the sky.

Pappas stands panting. Enraged and frustrated. Pain

searing his leg. Everything is tense and electrified.

BOOM!! Pappas' chest EXPLODES with a spray of blood!

BEHIND HIM, ROACH is lying on one elbow in a pool of

scarlet.

He c*cks another round into the chamber and fires again.

BOOM!

Angelo drops to his knees, holding his ruined body like

he's hugging himself. Johnny lunges toward him, his face

distorted with shock.

UTAH:

NNNOOOOOO!!!

Angelo's eyes meet his for a moment.

In his dilated pupils is the great question.

Then he slumps forward and lies very still.

The breath leaves his body and doesn't go back in.

Johnny moves toward his friend in a daze. Drops to one

knee beside him.

Roach aims the shotgun at him, coughing blood.

Utah doesn't notice. Or is beyond caring.

Bodhi holds his hand up in a gesture like a benediction.

Roach's finger relaxes on the trigger.

Utah puts his hand on Angelo's white crewcut hair.

He hears the scraping of steel on asphalt behind him as

Bodhi picks up the other twelve gauge.

Roach is working himself to his knees. His breath is

sucking through a bloody hole in his chest as well as the

customary breathing orifices. Bodhi crosses to him and

helps him up. He covers Utah with the shot gun as he

half-carries Roach to the plane. The pilot is white with

shock. He'd run if he could remember how.

PILOT:

I ain't flyin' you guys to San

Phillipe man, forget it. Not now--

BODHI:

Thanks for telling the nice FBI

agent where we're going.

Roach works his way up into the plane. He waves the

shotgun at the pilot, his face a vicious, blood-flecked

mask.

ROACH:

Get in the f***ing plane.

Bodhi stands behind Johnny, the shotgun aimed at his head.

Their expressions are lethally cold.

We see that Utah hates this man who was his friend, his

teacher, more now than he dreamed it was possible to hate.

BODHI:

We're gonna ride this out, all the

way, Johnny. You and me. Let's go.

Johnny nods slowly, as if accepting that this was all

somehow pre-ordained, and that they both knew the game

would take them this far and beyond. He stands and walks

to the plane.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICO - DAY

THE SCREEN EXPLODES WITH A BLUR OF MOTION.

POV of the ground racing below us at 180 mph.

REVERSE, preceding the plane as it rockets through barren

canyons.

As close to the earth as the terrified pilot will take it.

Under the radar.

INT. PLANE

The aircraft bucks like a bull as the pilot jinks and

banks wildly.

Bodhi has the Casull aimed at the base of his skull from

the jump seat just behind him.

Roach holds the shotgun on Utah, seated across from him in

the rear seats.

Roach is a pale, sweaty mask. He is propped against a

bulkhead, seemingly collapsed in on himself like a

discarded coat.

His entire shirtfront and lap are slick with blood.

But his gaze is steady, and the shotgun is aimed into

Utah's guts.

No one talks or moves on this grim hell-ride.

EXT. ARROYO

Near noon. The sun blisters a landscape out of time.

The white Cessna rockets above the saguaros, its shadow

pumping up and down over the broken terrain like some

manic alter ego below it. It WOOSHES over us, raising

dust devils.

INT. PLANE

The pilot yells over his shoulder to Bodhi...

PILOT:

Look, we been in Mexico the last

half hour... can I quit mowing the

lawn here or what? I'm getting more

brush in the wheels than I usually

like, you know what I'm saying?!

BODHI:

Yeah, get some height. Take her up

to eight thousand on this heading.

The pilot pulls back on the yoke and the plane climbs.

Bodhi moves back next to Roach, who's fading.

ROACH:

We're gonna pop up on their screens.

BODHI:

Doesn't matter now. We're almost

there, man. Here, let me help you

get your gear on.

Bodhi drags a parachute pack up onto the seat next to

Roach and starts helping him into the harness. Roach

keeps the shot gun pointed at Johnny.

ROACH:

I'm cold.

BODHI:

You're gonna be fine. Just fine.

Johnny, toss me that money bag will

you. Easy does it.

Utah hefts the duffel. Weighs its contents, and their

price.

UTAH:

You're cold because all the blood is

running out of your body, Roach.

You're going to be dead soon.

(he tosses the bag)

I hope it was worth it.

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