Predator Page #7

He SEES Blain charging down the steps. Catching his attention he

signals him on, out the back to cover Ramirez.

SCHAEFER:

(to Hawkins)

Hawk, Get Con. Op. on the hook! Position and situation, now!

As Blain runs down the stairs, Hawkins already has the radio off his

back, setting up the portable SATELLITE DISH ANTENNA.

HAWKINS:

You got it, Major!

EXT. PALAPA - WATER AREA - DAY

Ramirez, Blain and Billy race down the back stairs of the palapa,

FIRING Mini-gun, automatic and grenade rounds at the escaping

GUERRILLAS as they flee the area, splashing, charging across the

shallow river.

The guerrillas are history... in no uncertain terms.

INT. PALAPA - DAY

For the first time, Schaefer studies the interior of the cavernous

palapa, SEEING the enormous stockpile of WEAPONS, EQUIPMENT and

SUPPLIES stacked along the walls, obviously a major military stronghold

hidden deep within the mountains. Mac hustles up to Schaefer, a look of

urgency on his face.

SCHAEFER:

Any sign of the hostages?

MAC:

(nods)

We found 'em both, dead. And the gear from the chopper. If they're

Central American, I'm a f***in' Chinaman. By the looks of 'em, I'd say

our cabinet minister and his aide are CIA.

(pause)

Another thing, Major, we were lucky... couple of those guys we waxed

are Russians, military advisors by the look of it. Something big was

about to happen here.

Schaefer looks at Mac a moment, a flush of anger beginning to show.

SCHAEFER:

Good work, Mac. Clear the area, no traces. Get the men ready to move.

Schaefer goes back into the room, looking down at the unconscious

guerrilla, racking a round into the chamber, reloading his weapon.

He kneels, staring into the FACE of a WOMAN, ANNA, dark, late twenties.

Despite her blood and dirt-smeared face, she is beautiful.

SCHAEFER:

(closes eyes)

Sh*t...

He checks her pulse and then slowly he bends to pick up her PISTOL,

ejecting the clip. He stands, beginning to shuffle through the PAPERS

scattered about the room. Staring at one he looks up, the pieces

falling together.

EXT. JUNGLE - DAY

Ramirez, at a crouch, runs through the jungle, following the obvious

signs of the Guerrilla's retreat. He emerges from the trees into an

opening, leading to a sheer rock cliff, towering fifty feet above the

ground. Scanning the wall, he SEES movement and quickly takes cover, as

automatic FIRE rips up the ground before him.

EXT. ROCK WALL - DAY

Near the center of which a narrow cut, two feet wide, leads to the top

of the cliff, giving access to the adjoining ridge.

Two Guerrillas scramble up through the chimney, assisted by a ROPE,

which with withdraw as they reach the top. Ramirez takes out one man,

the other taking cover, returning fire.

EXT. BASE OF ROCK WALL - DAY

Blain joins Ramirez, behind cover at the foot of the cliff. As they

take cover, Ramirez notices the wound on Blain's shoulder.

RAMIREZ:

You're hit. You're bleedin', man.

Blain looks briefly at the wound.

BLAIN:

(spits)

Ain't got time to bleed.

On a signal, they both clear cover and fire LONG BURSTS from their

weapons up the cliff.

The smoke is hardly cleared when they are answered by withering FIRE.

They duck down as a grenade EXPLODES nearby. Ramirez quickly replaces

the 40MM rounds into the SIX-SHOOTER.

BLAIN:

Son-of-a-b*tch's dug in like a Alabama tick...

(spits)

... jack us around all day.

RAMIREZ:

Hell, dude, we don't have all day.

Ramirez immediately rolls into the line of fire, BLASTING six RAPID-

FIRE shots on a HIGH-ARC trajectory towards the rocks. Blain reacts.

BLAIN:

Sh*t, Pancho!!!

Blain dives against the protective cover of the rock wall, covering his

head. Ramirez casually hops across, squatting next to Blain. They make

eye-contact.

RAMIREZ:

What's your problem, dude?

Before Blain can answer, Ramirez puts his fingers into his ears and

grimaces just as...

The entire hillside EXPLODES, blowing the Guerrillas into the air, a

torrent of vegetation and earth raining down the cliff, obscuring Blain

and Ramirez.

INT. PALAPA ROOM - DAY

Schaefer is staring out the window, his weapon slack in one arm, still

holding the paper. Dillon enters, obviously excited about what he has

found. He sees the papers on the floor. He reads through them quickly,

growing even more excited.

DILLON:

This is beautiful! More than we ever thought. We got the bastards!

Schaefer turns, striding slowly to Dillon, handing him the paper he is

holding.

SCHAEFER:

I think this is the one you want.

Dillon reads it.

DILLON:

(reacting)

Two days... that's all we had. In two days, three hundred of these

bastards would have been equipped with all this. After they crossed the

border, it would have taken a year to stop them.

(looks up)

We've averted a major guerrilla invasion, Dutch...

Schaefer moves in close to Dillon, face to face, anger flaring in his

eyes.

SCHAEFER:

(slow; deliberate)

It was all bullshit. All of it. From the start... you set us up, got us

in here to do your dirty work.

DILLON:

(angry)

That's right, I set you up. You're a veteran at this, Dutch, I had to.

SCHAEFER:

Why us?

DILLON:

Because I told you, you're the best. I knew you could do it but I

couldn't get you in here without a cover story.

SCHAEFER:

What story did you give to Davis?

DILLON:

We've been lookin' for this place for months. The chopper must have

gotten close when they got shot down. Hopper was sent in to get my men.

He was just doing his job. When he disappeared I had to clean this up,

I had to stop there bastards. We were so close, we couldn't quit. We

couldn't sleep through this one. I needed you, Dutch, can't you see

that?

DILLON:

To invade a foreign country, illegally? You lied, Dillon. Stacked the

odds against us. Set us up. You could have gotten us all killed.

(pause; looking at him)

You used to be one of us, Dillon, someone I could trust with my life...

DILLON:

We've been through a lot together Dutch. When we were together, no one

could stop us, the hottest Goddamned team the army ever saw. But things

changed, I woke up. We're fighting them in a dozen Goddamned countries.

It's a fight we can't lose, Dutch. We're all expendable assets, can't

you see that?

Schaefer takes the paper from Dillon's hands.

SCHAEFER:

That's your problem, Dillon. You always did put ambition before the

lives of your men.

(pause)

My men are not expendable. I don't do this kind of work.

(crumples up paper in fist)

This is your dirty little war, not mine.

He stuffs the crumpled paper into Dillon's shirt pocket.

Anna, regaining consciousness, GROANS, a heavy flow of blood running

down her face from her head wound.

Hawkins appears at the door.

HAWKINS:

Major!

Schaefer turns away from Dillon and steps through the doorway into the

palapa as Anna moans again, MUMBLING something in Spanish. Dillon

kneels, beside her.

DILLON:

(quietly; in Spanish)

Are you all right?

INT. PALAPA - DAY

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