Predator Page #17

He scans the bank, searching, looking for heat sources. Detecting none

he moves on sounding a questioning TRILL several times.

BACK TO SCENE - SCHAEFER

Disbelieving that he's still alive, opens one eye, SEEING the Hunter's

feet move away, his prehensile spurs dragging in the mud. He rounds a

bend and disappears, heading for the undergrowth.

Astonished, he tries to raise up on his hands but a sudden jabbing pain

in his shoulder causes him to collapse, falling onto his side,

unconscious in the mud.

EXT. RIVER - DAY

As a HUEY ATTACK HELICOPTER breaks over the top of the ridge, diving

forward, moving down the canyon. The chopper flares up into a holding

pattern.

In the open doorway, a SOLDIER searches the top of the canyon with

binoculars. Seeing no sign of life, the chopper flies on, disappearing

down the canyon rim.

BACK TO SCENE - SCHAEFER

Lies unconscious in the mud, the distant SOUND of the helicopter

THRUMPING into the distance.

EXT. ANNA - DAY

She runs into a clearing, stopping momentarily, gasping for breath. She

is startled by a sudden movement behind her. She spins, looking. There

is nothing there. She runs on.

EXT. THE CANYON - DAY (DUSK)

Schaefer GASPS as his eyes bolt open in fear. As if the Hunter were

still attacking, Schaefer rolls to his feet and runs, slogging through

the THICK MUD, stumbling, lunging forward, gasping for breath.

Schaefer spins and staggers backwards into a shallow POOL, scuttling,

crab-like into the chest deep water. Schaefer backs into the moss-

covered wall by the waterfall, looking for movement, regaining his

senses.

As the water settles, he looks down, SEEING the image of himself,

reflected in the pool; his hair and face covered in THICK CLAY. He

stares, mesmerized at the image.

He lifts his arm from the water, his fingers wiping the MUD from his

face, exposing a PATCH of SKIN. He studies the mud in his hand and then

looks at the image of himself in the water, SEEING the exposed skin. He

stares at it, a wave of realization rushing through his mind. He places

the mud back on his face, again looking at his image.

SCHAEFER:

You couldn't see me.

He looks up, out into the failing light, at the treeline of the

deepening forest, realizing that fate has given him a fighting chance.

Slowly a look of vengeance and hatred crosses over his face.

EXT. CLAY BANK - NIGHT

Using his MACHETE he carves MAGNESIUM SHAVINGS from a fire block into a

pile of KINDLING. He removes a match from the hollow handle of the

machete, also containing a coil of PIANO WIRE, GREEN TAPE and MEDICAL

SUPPLIES. He lights the shavings which burn with a brilliant white

light. Schaefer shelters the fire with a banana leaf until the flame

dies down. He feeds the fire with more kindling, fanning it with a

leaf.

SCHAEFER - BOW AND ARROW MONTAGE - NIGHT (LATER)

Holding a three foot section of FIRE-HARDENED sapling between his feet

and shoulder, he scrapes the char from the seasoned wood with his

machete.

He bends the bow and attaches a long piece of PIANO WIRE to one end,

carefully wrapping it for strength, using strips of green tape to cover

the sides of the wire where the nock of the arrow will fit.

He attaches split quilled FEATHERS with fishing line to an ARROW, its

tip fashioned into a series of barbs, rubbing them to a polished

hardness against a smooth stone. When finished he places the arrow on

the ground next to three other identical arrows.

SCHAEFER:

One chance, that's all.

EXT. CLAY BANK - NIGHT

Schaefer is pounding a peeled root between two stones. He pauses to

drool saliva into the pulpy mass. He scrapes the milky substance onto a

BANANA LEAF, mixing it with a sticky SAP, holding it over the coals

until the mixture steams.

Schaefer coats the arrow tips with the sticky poison, holding them over

the coals until the sap bubbles and smokes. He spins the arrows in his

hands, blowing on the tips to cool and harden the mixture.

Using the tip of his machete, he pries open the casing of one of the

40MM grenades, discarding the warhead. He dumps the PROPELLANT POWDER

from the shell onto a leaf, mixing that with a mound of MAGNESIUM

SHAVINGS.

He opens the narrow, tight roll of GAUZE taken from the first aid kit

of the machete handle, fluffing it into a large, loose BUNDLE, the size

of a baseball. He pours the powder-mixture into the gauze, mixing it

into the fabric.

He transfers the ball of explosive ladened gauze to a pliable DRY LEAF,

closing it into a bundle, binding it at the top with a long strand of

jungle-grass.

He twists the remaining gauze around a MATCH, leaving the head exposed,

forming a self-striking FUSE.

He coats the fuse with SAP and then thickly covers it with more powder

from the 40MM grenade. He pokes the fuse down into the leaf. Taking a

long strand of JUNGLE GRASS he makes a large loop, tying it onto the

grenade, slipping the loop and grenade over his head.

Finally, using several sections of BAMBOO of differing diameters, he

fashions a crude, anti-personnel SPEAR-BOMB, a BANG-STICK like weapon,

using the sharpened TONGUE from his belt buckle for a FIRING PIN and a

40MM GRENADE from his belt pouch as an explosive charge.

EXT. RIVER'S EDGE - NIGHT

Schaefer appears, he has covered him entire body with a variety of

CLAYS and OCHERS, creating a mottled, EARTHEN CAMOUFLAGE pattern.

Holding his weapons in one hand, he moves up the canyon, ascending into

a rising boulder field.

EXT. BOULDER FIELD - NIGHT

Where the river flows into a series of falls and pools, surrounded by

massive boulders and table top rocks, their crevices jammed with large

amounts of DRIFTWOOD swept down at high water from the forests above.

On a flattened section of rock, Schaefer drags a large section of

BRANCHES INTO VIEW, adding it to a growing mound of FIREWOOD. He

kneels, tending to a pile of DRIES GRASS, LEAVES and other tinder.

Using the last of his precious matches, he sets fire to the tinder,

gently coaxing the tiny blaze into a slowly consuming FIRE, flames

starting to lick upward through the dry wood.

He stands, staring into the rapidly growing blaze. He turns, facing the

canyon rim, raising his weapons in one hand. From the depths of his

soul, a SOUND emerges; primitive and visceral, as if from an animal in

pain.

He throws back his head and SHOUTS.

EXT. CANYON RIM - NIGHT

A hundred feet below, Schaefer stands in the boulder field, his mud

coated body bathed in RED FIRELIGHT, looking like a fierce, primitive

warrior; a timeless, prehistoric sight, his long and WAILING CRY,

ECHOING endlessly through the canyon.

EXT. HUNTER'S SHIP - NIGHT

Backlit by the LIGHT of the open door, the Hunter's head, in three-

quarter profile, his eyes gleaming, rears INTO VIEW, looking up at the

sky, HEARING Schaefer's cry.

Responding with a low HISS, he turns back, raising in one hand his

weapon, in the other a U-shaped SHARPENING DEVICE. As he passes the

weapon through the device, it FLASHES into life, a deep, HARMONIC HUM

emitted as the blade grows with energy, growing hotter, hotter and

HOTTER with each stroke. He draws the blade now WHITE-HOT through the

device for the last stroke. He lifts it, testing its balance, the

WHITE-HOT blade illuminating his alien face.

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