Predator Page #8

Schaefer is talking to Hawkins who has the field radio set on a crate

just outside the door.

HAWKINS:

(urgent)

Major, we stepped into some real sh*t here. I got a hook-up with aerial

surveillance.

SCHAEFER:

Movement?

HAWKINS:

(nods)

Guerrillas swarming like flies all over the place. Can't be more then

one, maybe two miles away. Place is going down, Major.

SCHAEFER:

How much time?

HAWKINS:

Half an hour, maybe less.

Schaefer touches him on the shoulder.

SCHAEFER:

(urgently)

Tell Mac we move in five.

He starts to walk away.

DILLON (O.S.)

She goes with us.

Schaefer turns. Dillon is at the doorway, supporting the still groggy

Anna.

DILLON:

She's too valuable. She's got to know their whole network. The whole

set up. We take her with us.

SCHAEFER:

We take her and she'll give away our position, every chance she gets.

No prisoners, Dillon.

Dillon grabs the handset from Hawkin's radio, shoving it at Schaefer.

DILLON:

You're still under orders, Dutch. You want to make the call, or should

I?

Schaefer looks at the handset. Then at Dillon, he knows Dillon's won.

He starts to walk away but stops, turning back, pointing a finger at

Dillon.

SCHAEFER:

I'm getting my men out of this damn jungle, Dillon. She's your baggage.

You fall behind, you're on your own.

EXT. GUERRILLA VILLAGE - DAY

Schaefer and Billy are kneeling on the ground near the trailhead,

studying a MAP. In the background, the team, hidden, covers the

hillside approaches to the camp, nervous and wary, weapons ready.

SCHAEFER:

This place is too hot for a pick-up. They won't touch us until we're

over the border. We can lift at LZ 49, here.

(points to map)

Spotter plane says we're cut off.

(points to map)

Except for this valley.

Billy shakes his head, following the CONTOUR LINES of the rugged

terrain.

BILLY:

Looks bad, Major. It's gonna be a real b*tch.

(points to map)

If we follow above the river and then down, here, at this canyon, we

might find a way out.

Schaefer turns to Ramirez, kneeling close by.

SCHAEFER:

(decisively)

Not much choice. Pancho, take the lead. Double time it.

He turns and looks at Dillon, Anna as his side, her forehead bandaged,

her hands bound in front of her. He turns back to the others.

SCHAEFER:

Lock n' load, watch your ass.

Blain moves out, swinging the Mini-gun in front of him as he goes.

EXT. OBSERVER'S POV - DAY

Watching as Dillon leads ANNA onward, SEEING her bound hands. Dillon

pushes her.

EXT. ANNA - DAY

Spins, hurling a string of insults to Dillon in SPANISH.

ANNA:

(in Spanish)

You touch me again, pig, and I will cut off your balls!

DILLON:

(in Spanish)

It's a long walk back, make it easy on yourself.

She spits at him, turning forward with a twist of her head.

Dillon picks up his back, shouldering it. As they move on, Mac calls

out to him.

MAC:

(quietly)

Hey, Dillon, over here.

Dillon doesn't respond.

MAC:

(louder)

Dillon, over here.

Dillon turns and approaches, warily, holding the girl.

DILLON:

Yeah, what is it, Sergeant?

Mac unsheathes his knife. He gives Dillon a cold look and turns him by

the shoulders. Crawling across the PACK on Dillon's back is a huge

SCORPION.

Mac skeweres the scorpion with the tip of his blade, holding it before

the wincing Dillon. Anna smirks, nodding to the writhing, stinging

insect.

ANNA:

(in Spanish)

When my people catch you, you'll wish you were him.

Dillon looks at Mac.

DILLON:

Thanks.

MAC:

(coolly)

Anytime.

Mac flings the scorpion to the ground, crushing it with his boot. He

looks up at Dillon, walks away. Dillon follows, pulling Anna behind

him.

Billy, guarding the rear, glances furtively around the clearing. He

moves a step forward and stops, freezing.

Slowly he turns back, his eyes riveted upon the treeline above the

camp. His eyes strain, his senses registering a fear he cannot name or

see.

Something is out there, in the trees, waiting, watching.

Billy turns and walks into the jungle, pausing one last time to look

behind him before he too disappears from sight.

The jungle GROWS SILENT.

EXT. OBSERVER'S ALTERED POV - DAY

LOOKING DOWN from his vantage point to the treeline below, terraces

like stepping stones, FOCUSING ON a TREE, fifty feet away.

The Observer utters a LOW TRILL and springs outward into space,

hurtling downward towards his landing point, the canopy of the trees

approaching in a staccato rush of green.

The SOUNDS of the FOREST are again altered and enhanced with an

electric, STATIC-LIKE quality as the Observer descends fluidly through

the trees and to the ground.

He enters the camp, surveying the terrible destruction and carnage. He

SEES the dead Guerrillas, the dissipating heat from their bodies

leaving them pale and GHOST-LIKE, as if fading light about to

extinguish. He sees their weapons, the cold hard steel of the barrels

registering ICE BLUE in his vision.

EXT. OBSERVER'S POV OF HIS HAND - DAY

As it appears, pulsing in a pale magenta heat, low to the ground,

holding his weapon. He lays down the weapon, picking up the SCORPION,

turning it slowly in his fingers, examining it. It looks like an exotic

flower, its color fading from sight, turning to BLACK.

A low SOUND is uttered, something vaguely familiar about it: A NEARLY

HUMAN VOICE, a distorted imitation of Mac.

HUNTER (O.S.)

(filtered)

Dillon, over here.

Again the phrase is uttered, improving, closer to Mac's inflection and

accent.

HUNTER (O.S.)

Dillon, over here.

The Hunter lowers the pitch.

HUNTER (O.S.)

Dillon, over here.

The last effort is a chilling simulation of Mac's voice.

EXT. OBSERVER'S HAND - DAY

Drops the scorpion and picks up the weapon which changes instantly back

to the Observer's skin tones.

EXT. OBSERVER'S POV - DAY

He turns and focuses on the area where the team left camp.

He crouches and springs to the lower branches of a tree, grasping them

with his clawed, three-fingered hands, pulling himself up and through

the branches with astounding speed and simian-like dexterity; his

spurred prehensile feet, grasping and thrusting him to a vantage point,

fifty feet above the ground.

As he moves on, the jungle grows suddenly QUIET, as if aware, sensing

that the HUNTER is now stalking, no longer observing!!!

EXT. JUNGLE VALLEY - DAY

The twilight world of a PREHISTORIC FOREST, filled with gigantic plants

and towering trees, overgrown with vines and creepers.

The team, with Billy at point, walk alongside a wandering STREAM BED,

weirdly illuminated by SHAFTS OF LIGHT, streaming through openings in

the trees, as if from spotlights, a hundred feet above.

It is midday, hot and humid, the air BUZZING with the sounds of

insects, the CRYING of birds and monkeys. The men are moving fast and

quiet, straining to see into the dense jungle, aware of every sound,

sweating, quietly slapping at biting insects.

EXT. GIANT HARDWOOD TREE - DAY

Lies across their path. As the man climb over a rotten section, Mac

stops to assist Blain with his Mini-gun.

MAC:

I've seen some badass bush before, but nothin' like this, man.

(pause)

Little taste 'o home?

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