Se7en Page #16

SOMERSET:

Yes. They were there... so, it must be.

MILLS:

We'll tag along.

Somerset wants no part of that.

SOMERSET:

Why would we?

MILLS:

(smiles)

Satisfy our curiosity?

INT. MILLS' CAR -- MORNING

Mills drives, follows a police van. Somerset rides shotgun.

Mills seems pumped and ready. Somerset takes two Rolaids off a

fresh roll and chews them.

MILLS:

You ever take one?

Somerset takes out his gun, opens it to check the load.

SOMERSET:

Never in my twenty-four years, knock on

wood. I've only ever taken my gun out five

times with the actual intention of using

it. Never fired it though. Not once.

(closes his gun)

You?

MILLS:

Never took a bullet. I pulled my gun once.

fired it once.

SOMERSET:

And?

MILLS:

It was my first one of these. We were a

secondary unit, and I was pretty shaky

going in. I was still considered a rookie.

Mills takes a corner, tires screeching.

MILLS:

We busted the door, looking for this

junkie, right? The geek just opened fire.

Another cop was hit in the arm and he went

flying... like in slow motion.

(pause)

I remember riding in the ambulance. His

arm was like Jello. A piece of meat. He

bled to death right there.

A pause.

SOMERSET:

How did the fire fight end?

MILLS:

I got him. I got the son-of-a-b*tch.

See, I was doing really good up till then.

Lots of street busts. I've always had this

weird luck... everything always went my

way, but this was wild.

(pause)

I got him with one shot... right between

the eyes. Next thing I know, the mayor's

pinning a medal on me. Picture in the

paper, whole nine yards.

Somerset unrolls the window, feels the air across his face.

SOMERSET:

How was it?

MILLS:

I expected it to be bad, you know. I took

a human life... but I slept like a baby

that night. I never gave it a second

thought.

SOMERSET:

I think Hemingway wrote somewhere... I

can't remember where, but he wrote that in

order to live in a place like this, you

have to have the ability to kill. I think

he meant you truly must be able to do it,

not just faking it, too survive.

MILLS:

Sounds like he knew what he was talking

about.

INT. SLUM BUILDING, STAIRWELL -- MORNING

The five cops from the briefing, fully geared up and ready,

rifles and handguns out, move quickly up the stairs in single

file. Somerset and Mills follow, guns out. Somerset is sweating

bullets. Mills is wild eyed, juiced.

Crack viles and hypodermic needles on the stairs crunch under the

cops' heavy boots.

INT. SLUM HALLWAY -- MORNING

The cops enter the dank hall. The move cautiously. A man is

lying on the floor, looking up, helpless, with dead eyes.

A door opens and a woman peeks out. The female cop points her

gun and the door slams. California, leading the group, steps up

to apartment 303. He has a search warrant scotch-taped to the

front of his bullet-proof vest.

CALIFORNIA:

(to black cop)

This is it. Give it up.

The black cop hoists a heavy battering ram to California. The

other cops get on both sides of the door. Somerset and Mills

hang back a few feet, watching their backs.

BLACK COP:

(points to Mills)

Cops go before D*cks.

Many people are sticking their heads out of doors in the hall.

CALIFORNIA:

Police! Open the door!!

California brings the ram forward with a splintering THUD -- once

-- twice -- the door flies open. The cops storm in.

INT. SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING

The apartment is incredibly dusty. The cops charge down the

short hall into this room where a bed sits against the far wall.

California moves up to the bed. Someone lies under the sheets.

Three other cops move, all training their weapon on the bed.

CALIFORNIA:

Good morning, sweetheart!

A blond cop goes into another room. California moves closer to

the bed, gun up.

CALIFORNIA:

Get up, now, motherf***er! NOW!

INT. SLUM APARTMENT, ADJOINING ROOM -- MORNING

The blond cop enters, gun trained, looks around in confusion.

The room's tables, chairs and floor are covered with hundreds of

colorful, plastic air fresheners.

INT. SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING

Mills and Somerset enter. Somerset looks at the cops around the

bed, then looks at a nearby wall. His mouth drops in horror. On

the wall, written in excrement: SLOTH.

SOMERSET:

Jesus...

California kicks the bed, enraged.

CALIFORNIA:

I said get up, Sleepyhead!

He pulls the sheets off the bed and reveals the shriveled,

sore-covered form of a man who is blindfolded and tied to the bed

with a thin wire which has been wrapped time and time again

around the mattress and bed frame. Tubes runs out from a stained

loincloth around the man's waist and snake under the bed.

CALIFORNIA:

F*** me!

Mills pushes past the other cops.

MILLS:

Holy sh*t.

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