Se7en Page #17

The cops recoil from the stench. Somerset steps up, putting his

gun away.

SOMERSET:

Victor?

BLACK COP:

What the hell... ?

CALIFORNIA:

(to Somerset)

Check this out, Dick...

California points with his gun to the end of the man's right arm.

The hand is gone, severed at the wrist long ago.

MILLS:

It is Victor.

SOMERSET:

(points to a cop)

Call an ambulance.

The blond cop enters from the other room.

BLOND COP:

What the f*** is this?

CALIFORNIA:

Somebody call a hearse, more like.

The female cop has gone to one wall where a sheet is pinned up.

She pulls the sheet down. Pinned behind the sheet are fifty-two

Polaroid pictures; all pictures of Victor tied to the bed, with a

date written at the bottom of each picture. It is a visual

history of Victor's physical decay.

BLOND COP:

What is going on?

Mills sees the female cop looking at the pictures.

MILLS:

Hey, California, get your people out.

Somerset takes out rubber gloves and puts them on.

CALIFORNIA:

You heard him. Hit the hall, and don't

touch anything.

Somerset replaces the sheet over Victor, but not over his head.

The cops file out and Mills goes to examine the pictures.

California stays by the bed with Somerset.

CALIFORNIA:

It looks like he's some kind of friggin'

sculpture or something.

Somerset places his finger along Victor's throat.

MILLS:

Somerset, you... you better look here.

Mills looks at the photos in awe. Somerset joins him.

MILLS:

All pictures of Victor tied to the bed.

(crouches, points)

The last one is dated three days ago.

Somerset looks at the first photo. In it, Victor is bound and

gagged, but he is healthy.

SOMERSET:

The first one... it's dated one year ago.

To the day.

Somerset wipes his pale face.

Californian stands by the corpse, behind Somerset and Mills. He

lifts the sheet on the bed to look under it.

CALIFORNIA:

Mother...

Mills kneels and lifts the sheet which had covered the pictures

off the floor. There is an open shoebox underneath.

MILLS:

What...?

On the side of the box: TO THE DETECTIVES, FROM ME.

California leans close to Victor's gaunt, blindfolded face,

examining with morbid curiosity.

CALIFORNIA:

You got what you deserved, Victor.

Somerset leans down beside Mills. Mills looks through the

shoebox. Inside are plastic, zip-lock bags.

One contains small clumps of hair. One contains a yellow

liquid...

MILLS:

(looking at bags)

A urine sample, hair sample... stool

sample. Finger nails...

(looks to Somerset)

He laughing at us.

California is still close to Victor's face, when suddenly

Victor's lips twist open and Victor lets out a loud, guttural

bark.

California jerks back, shouting in fear, falling over a chair to

to the floor.

Mills and Somerset reel. They see California on the ground,

scared out of his mind, pointing.

CALIFORNIA:

He's alive!

Somerset and Mills look towards the bed.

Victor's lips move feebly as he lets out a sick, gurgling moan.

CALIFORNIA:

He's still alive!!

EXT. SLUM APARTMENT BUILDING -- MORNING

A crowd has gathered at the entrance. Mills' car, the police van

and two ambulances are parked on the sidewalk.

INT. SLUM HALLWAY -- MORNING

The cops are in the hall holding neighbors at bay.

INT. SLUM APARTMENT, MAIN ROOM -- MORNING

Three ambulance attendants are at the bed, working on Victor.

One attendant uses wire cutters to clip Victor's bonds.

INT. SLUM STAIRWELL -- MORNING

Mills and Somerset are standing in the middle of one flight of

stairs. Both are highly agitated.

SOMERSET:

The way this has gone till now, I wouldn't

have thought it was possible, but we may

have underestimated this guy.

MILLS:

I want him bad. I don't just want to catch

him anymore. I want to hurt him.

SOMERSET:

Listen to me. He's all about playing

games.

MILLS:

No kidding! No f***ing kidding!

SOMERSET:

We have to divorce ourselves from emotions

here. No matter how hard it is, we have to

stay focused on the details.

MILLS:

I don't know about you, but I feed off my

emotions.

SOMERSET:

He'll string us along all the way if we're

not careful.

Mills is looking at the floor, still burning. Somerset grabs him

by the jacket.

SOMERSET:

Are you listening to me?

Mills pushes Somerset's hand off.

MILLS:

I hear you.

There is a sudden, brilliant FLASH OF LIGHT and the SOUND of a

CAMERA ADVANCING. Mills and Somerset look.

Down the stairs, a REPORTER has his camera up, pointed at them.

REPORTER:

Say cheese.

He take another picture, flashbulb flashing.

Mills goes down the stairs, grabs the reporter, a balding, almost

silly looking man with thick glasses and wrinkled clothing.

MILLS:

What the f*** are you doing here?

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