Reindeer Games Page #3

NICK:

Thought you hated Sidnaw.

RUDY:

Just taste that Christmas turkey.

NICK:

Thought you hate your old man.

RUDY:

Five years, Nicky. Five years.

(shrugs)

I just want to go home.

There's the echo of CRASHING metal gates. Prisoners YELLING.

Nick smiles, still staring at his girl.

NICK:

Well, man. Me and Ashley. We'll be

thinking about you.

INT. MAIN PRISON FLOOR - DAY

GUARDS monitor PRISONERS as they file out of their cells for

the afternoon meal. Rudy and Nick are motioned out by a MEAN

GUARD, his bitter world etched in his face. They join the

line.

RUDY:

Sh*t. Alamo's back.

Across Broadway, a parallel line is forming. A tall, tattooed

Native American, THE ALAMO, steps out of his cell. His hands

are the size of a man's skull.

NICK:

Don't look like he missed the

sunlight.

RUDY:

Pinscher told me Alamo thinks I'm

the one ratted on him beating up

Cree. Since I was there, I saw it,

he thinks I got him sent to solitary.

NICK:

Aw, Rudy.

At that moment, Alamo glances over. Finds Rudy's eyes. Rudy

swiftly looks away --

RUDY:

Count me outta mealtime --

He slaps Nick an the back, heads back for their cell --

MEAN GUARD:

GET BACK IN LINE!

RUDY:

I'm not hungry, I'm gonna --

MEAN GUARD:

SHOULDA STAYED IN YOUR HOLE! GET

BACK IN F***ING LINE!

The mean guard pulls his blackjack. Another guard's ready

behind him. They want Rudy to give them trouble.

Rudy stops. Slides back into the line of prisoners. Looks

across Broadway. The Alamo's walked on up ahead. Rudy

swallows, heads toward the mess hall.

INT. MESS HALL - DAY

A GLOOPY SPOON of CHUNKY RED AND GREEN JELLO gets splooshed

on Rudy's plate. Same with Nick. It's the cafeteria line.

NICK:

What the f*** is this?

UGLY STAFFER:

Holiday jello.

NICK:

What's this sh*t in it?

UGLY STAFFER:

Swallow and see.

The ugly staffer grins from under his plastic hairnet. Nick

looks to Rudy, then turns back to the help:

NICK:

Just so you know, this man and I are

outta here in two days. So while

we're inhaling London broil and

lobster bisque, you're gonna still

be standing here smelling up the

mystery creamfuck.

(nods)

Who's in prison now?

The ugly staffer curls his lip. Nick smiles. Rudy moves on,

taking his tray off the rail and turning --

-- right into the chest of The Alamo. He looks up -- into

the most scarred and vengeful face a man could ever dread to

see. The Alamo's a lifer. Many times over.

THE ALAMO:

When you don't expect it.

RUDY:

It wasn't me, Alamo --

THE ALAMO:

That's when.

The Alamo strides into the cafeteria line. Rudy finally takes

a breath, as if he's dodged death. Nick's at his shoulder.

They share a grave and worried look. Trying to help:

NICK:

Two days.

INT. MESS HALL - TABLES - DAY

Rudy and Nick sit at a cafeteria table. Beside Rudy is a

frail, nervous, fiftyish inmate, ZOOK. Zook sits alone, talks

to no one, always has the shakes.

NICK:

So maybe after our week beneath the

sheets, we'll head down to Motor

City for New Year's. She says her

roommate's skipping town for a few

days, have the place to ourselves.

Remember how her brother's a truck

driver down there? I'm thinking he

might be able to help get me some

work.

RUDY:

What, working security?

NICK:

No, I'm through with that sh*t.

Ashley's right. Gotta start doing

something I got a stake in. Get a

business going.

RUDY:

I don't know, I've seen the business

world.

NICK:

Hotwiring cars, Rudy, does not qualify

as a small business. Chop shop

consultant; doesn't work on a resume.

Rudy shrugs. He checks across the room, on the whereabouts

of The Alamo. The big Indian has his back turned.

NICK:

Ashley's talking about maybe we can

start something up together...

Next to Rudy, Zook has stopped eating. He is still as stone,

staring at his tray.

NICK:

Whatsa matter, Zook?

They both watch Zook put down his utensils and reach into

his red-and-green jello with his bare hand.

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