Predator Page #14

DILLON:

(straining)

I'm tellin' you, this little 'boy scout' stunt is a godamned waste of

time.

(stands)

We've got to get the hell out of here, now, while we've still got the

chance.

Ignoring him, Schaefer rapidly drags into position a NET crudely woven

of differing sizes of vines, their LEAVES still attached. He carefully

begins to cover the net with leaves and debris. Dillon watches him in

growing frustration as Schaefer moves quickly, picking up a FRAMEWORK

of STICKS he has tied together, a TREADLE-SPRING TRIGGER. He holds up

the framework, hurriedly examining his work before placing it on the

ground.

SCHAEFER:

He'll be looking for the trip wires. If we're lucky, he won't see this.

DILLON:

Now what, Dutch. You going to send your mystery guest an invitation?

Schaefer turns, there is a touch of fear in Dillon's eyes.

SCHAEFER:

You're catching on, Dillon.

Schaefer returns to his work on the net and trigger.

EXT. ENCAMPMENT - DAY (LATER)

Morning passes. Fog lifts as the sun creeps into the jungle. Insects

swarm and are fed upon by BIRDS and other predators.

At the entranceway to the rock outcropping, the net and trigger are

hidden beneath the leaves, the framework of the trigger bulging with

tension from the straining vine attached to the bent tree.

At the other end of the corridor, several meters above the jungle

floor, Schaefer and his team, heavily camouflaged, nearly invisible,

lie hidden, waiting. The team members, as if hypnotized by the BUZZING

din, stare into the jungle, fixated, alert.

ANNA:

While waiting at the net:

ANNA:

(hushed)

When I was little we find a man -

(she struggles for the words)

- like a butcher. The old ones in the village cross themselves and

whisper crazy things. 'Demonio, cazador de trofoes... Only the hottest

times of the hottest years... 'Crazy things... This year is grows hot.

And we begin finding our men. We find them sometimes without their

skin. Sometimes... much, much worse. Cazador de trofoes... means the

demon who takes trophies.

SLOW RACK TO:

... Schaefer's face. Ashen. HOLD. Suddenly an EERIE SILENCE moves over

the jungle:

He whips his face forward. The silence is SHATTERED by a bird flapping

from the brush.

Schaefer sits back and scratches his head, frustrated and a little

chagrined.

DILLON (O.S.)

What'll you try next - cheese?

Schaefer glares at him. Turns to go -

He stands and begins to move low to the ground toward the waiting

snare.

Behind him, sighting down their well-hidden gun barrels, the others

scan the jungle, alert for the slightest sound or movement, covering

him.

Schaefer reaches the trap, carefully skirting the trigger hidden

beneath the leaves. He reaches the end of the corridor, moving out into

the jungle. He moves further away from the others, the silence crushing

down on him. He stops and waits, sweat pouring down his face, his

finger tightening on the trigger of his M-203, eyes scanning the

jungle.

He turns his back on the jungle, waiting. Nothing. He moves back

towards the corridor, reaching the net, again waiting, listening,

sensing. Nothing. He turns around, looking at the jungle one last time,

his face measuring defeat and then, with carefully, measured strides,

he walks back to the camp.

Schaefer looks at Billy who shakes his head in puzzlement. Nearby,

Dillon starts to rise.

DILLON:

(low; whispered)

Satisfied? Now let's get the hell out...

Suddenly, behind Schaefer at the end of the corridor, with a resounding

SWISH and SNAP, the NET explodes off the floor of the jungle in a hail

of leaves and sticks, rocketing upward into the treetops.

Schaefer spins, the others leaping to their feet as they SEE the net as

it tears into the treetops, a large struggling bulge trapped within as

a long, unearthly TRILLING SCREAM ECHOES through the jungle.

Schaefer and the others charge from the rocks towards the jungle and

the bobbing net, their weapons ready. Anna remains behind, watching

terrified from the rocks.

They arrive under the net, raising their weapons to fire... but before

they can fire the entire net EXPLODES into a flurry of leaves, twigs,

vines, dirt and a FLASH of PULSATING CRIMSON.

EXT. HUNTER'S HAND AND ARM - DAY

As the Hunter leaps from the net his WEAPON activates, his arm slashing

out, severing a THICK LIMB of the spreading tree capony, entangled in

vines.

EXT. THE TEAM - DAY

The limb CRASHES down from the trees, Schaefer, Dillon, Billy and Mac

Diving for safety. But Ramirez, following the Hunter's leap, SEES too

late the pendular movement of the severed limb and is struck a THUDDING

blow in the ribs, which lifts him off his feet, hurling him backwards

like a rag doll, his shirt torn open, exposing a BLOODY WOUND.

As Anna runs to Ramirez's side the others, still stunned, look upward,

frozen in shock SEEING: THE HUNTER, clinging to a side of a tree,

flushed bright crimson.

Dillis is dumbfounded, like the others, rooted to the ground staring

upward.

DILLON:

What is God's name...?

The Hunter utters an unearthly SNARL and HISS from his open mouth as an

instant later his camouflage resumes and he vanishes from sight... a

rapid, furtive movement through the trees.

Mac OPENS FIRE with the M-60, the others joining in, shredding the

foliage, but they know the creature is gone.

With a SHOUT, Mac races into the jungle, in pursuit of the Hunter.

SCHAEFER:

Mac!

Schaefer hurriedly ejects the spent clip from the M-203, slamming in a

new one. He shouts an order to Billy.

SCHAEFER:

(to Billy)

Get Ramirez on his feet! Take the girl and get the hell out of here!

He turns to run after Mac. Dillon steps in front of him, putting his

hand on Schaefer's chest.

DILLON:

No way, Dutch. I'm going. You get these people and get the hell out of

here.

SCHAEFER:

This isn't your style, Dillon.

DILLON:

Guess I've picked up some bad habits from you, Dutch. Now don't argue

with me, you know I'm right. Get to that chopper and hold it for us.

We'll be along.

SCHAEFER:

You know you can't win this one.

Dillon stares at him.

DILLON:

You know me, Dutch, I never did know when to quit.

Dillon turns and begins to move out.

SCHAEFER:

Dillon!

Dillon turns. Picking up the spare MP-5, Schaefer tosses the weapon to

Dillon, who grabs it with one hand. They share a look, knowing this is

farewell.

SCHAEFER:

I'll see you there.

DILLON:

Right behind you.

Hefting both weapons at the hip he runs into the jungle after Mac.

Schaefer watches him leave. He breaks and goes to Ramirez, attended by

Anna and Billy, who is now sitting up, holding his ribs and gasping for

breath.

BILLY:

He's busted up, bad, Major.

RAMIREZ:

(gasping)

I can make it, Major.

Schaefer lifts him to his feet, supporting him.

SCHAEFER:

Come on, Poncho, we're getting out of here.

(to Billy)

Billy, take the radio, leave the rest. Come on!

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