Silver Bullet Page #13

UNCLE AL:

All is cool, Marty-boy. Go for it.

MARTY pushes the starter. The engine starts at once, but the

tone is entirely different. Before, MARTY'S wheelchair was a

poppety-popping pussycat. Now the engine rumbles like a

hood's street rod idling at a traffic light.

MARTY looks startled.

UNCLE AL (grinning)

Gun it.

MARTY guns it. The engine roars.

UNCLE AL:

Jesus! Not too much!

MARTY (awed)

Wow.

UNCLE AL:

You got a pilot's license, Marty?

MARTY:

Do I need one?

UNCLE AL:

We're gonna find out. Take it down the

road a ways and back. Be careful.

MARTY puts the Bullet in gear and pulls away.

EXT. MARTY, IN THE SILVER BULLET

CAMERA TRACKS HIM up the road. He goes slowly at first, but

he lets it out a little after a while. He's really moving

along- thirty, maybe forty miles an hour. The wind blows the

hair off his forehead. He begins to grin. He's enjoying

this.

EXT. UNCLE AL, WATCHING

He drinks some beer. He's grinning, happy for MARTY.

EXT. MARTY, IN THE SILVER BULLET

He slows down, turns, stops. He revs the engine. VROOM!

VRROOM!

EXT. THE SILVER BULLET'S MOTOR, CU

A lot of changes back here. It looks almost like a motorcyle

engine now. That chromed-silver carb predominates.

SOUND:
VAROOOOOOOM!

EXT. MARTY, CU

Grinning. Looking at:

EXT. THE COSLAW HOUSE, MARTY'S POV

It's about a quarter of a mile away.

EXT. MARTY, IN THE SILVER BULLET

He winds the engine up and pops the clutch. The Silver

Bullet doesn't so much accelerate as blast off. It tilts

back on its wheels. MARTY swivels into a position like that

of an astronaut on lift-off. The Silver Bullet looks like a

motorcycle popping a wheelie. MARTY has a great big grin on

his face.

EXT. THE SILVER BULLET, MEDIUM-LONG

Roaring down the highway at fifty or better, blue smoke

jetting from the exhaust. MARTY is plastered back in the

seat with the footrest pointing up at an angle. He's

laughing like a lunatic.

EXT. UNCLE AL, PEEKING THROUGH HIS FINGERS

UNCLE AL (to himself)

The kid's dead meat. What have I done?

(shouts)

Put a rock in it, Marty!

EXT. MARTY IN THE BULLET

He uses the hand brakes. SOUND of braking and squealing

rubber.

EXT. MARTY AND UNCLE AL

The Silver Bullet comes to a screeching, sluing stop near

UNCLE AL. Blue smoke drifts up from the wheels. MARTY guns

the engine once and then lets it idle.

UNCLE AL:

You gave me a heart attack, Marty. I'm

dying. I hope you're happy, because you

are looking at a dying man.

MARTY:

It really goes fast. Thanks, Uncle Al.

UNCLE AL:

It goes fast, all right- and if your mother

finds out just how fast, Marty, I will have

a new job. Singing soprano with the Vienna

Boys' Choir.

MARTY:

I don't get you.

UNCLE AL:

I know you don't. But I want this to be our

secret. You get that, don't you?

MARTY:

Sure.

UNCLE AL:

Good.

EXT. THE NIGHT SKY, WITH THE MOON

The last bit of daylight is just filtering away.

EXT. THE COSLAW BACKYARD

The barbecue is over. BOB and JANE are putting lawn chairs

on the back porch. MARTY, NAN, and UNCLE AL are all in the

f.g.

UNCLE AL:

I've got to go, Nan- I had a wonderful time.

He kisses her cheek affectionately, and she smiles at him.

NAN:

So have I, actually... I wish it could always

be like this.

UNCLE AL:

See me around to my car, Marty, and make sure

I stay out of trouble at least that long.

MARTY:

Okay.

He and UNCLE AL go around to the driveway. NAN looks at them

with troubled love.

EXT. THE COSLAW DRIVEWAY, WITH MARTY AND UNCLE AL

UNCLE AL:

Now I said I had something for you, as

I believe you will recall.

MARTY:

Yeah! What is it?

AL unlocks the trunk of his car and brings out a paper

shopping bag. He places the bag in MARTY'S lap. MARTY opens

the bag, but it's really too dark to see inside. He reaches

in and brings out a handful of assorted fireworks- crackers,

Roman candles, twizzers, smoke bombs, etc.

An expression of sublime delight fills MARTY'S face as he

inventories these goodies.

UNCLE AL:

You're gonna have the Fourth of July in

October, Marty. Just don't blow your head

off. (Pause) And remember that it isn't

just the fireworks. It's because no crazy

shithead should be able to stop the good

guys, if you can dig that.

MARTY (respectfully)

I can dig it- thank you, Uncle Al! Thank you!

UNCLE AL:

Stay near the house, for Christ's sake-

someone's killing people. I have to be out of

my mind to be doing this, you know.

MARTY:

Yeah, I know. It's great!

UNCLE AL:

One of the reasons I love you, Marty, is that

you're almost as crazy as I am. Please don't

set off anything that goes bang tonight, okay?

Just bright colors. Can you tell the difference?

MARTY:

Yeah... sure.

UNCLE AL:

Save this one for last.

He brings out a short rocket with stubby vanes on the end. A

fat fuse sticks out behind the head.

MARTY:

What is it?

UNCLE AL:

A tracer. You'll like it.

MARTY:

Thanks a million, Uncle Al!

UNCLE AL:

You're welcome a million, Marty. Stick 'em

in the bushes for now.

MARTY motors over to the side of the garage, where there's a

line of bushes, and conceals the bag in them. UNCLE AL gets

in his car and starts it up. MARTY comes back.

UNCLE AL (grinning)

Have a good time, dear boy! And watch out

for the werewolves!

He leaves. MARTY sits in his wheelchair, waving.

EXT. THE REAR OF THE COSLAW HOUSE NIGHT

There's a downspout outside one of the upstairs windows. Now

the window goes up and MARTY leans out. He grasps the

downspout and begins working his way down. This should not

be too hard for us to believe; we've already seen how strong

MARTY'S arms are.

His legs dangle limply, but he's doing just fine. When he

reaches the bottom of the drainpipe, they simply crumple

under him and he uses his arms to pull himself over to the

back porch.

MARTY hoists himself over the porch rail. Here, under a

tarp, is the Silver Bullet. MARTY pushes the tarp aside and

gets in. He uses his hands on the wheels to get over the

porch ramp and rolls silently down it. At the bottom he

looks up at:

EXT. AN UPSTAIRS WINDOW, MARTY'S POV NIGHT

Still a light on up there.

EXT. MARTY, IN THE BULLET

MARTY (whispers)

Sh*t!

Thinks a bit, then starts to hand-roll the Bullet toward:

EXT. THE PATH BETWEEN THE HOUSE AND THE GARAGE

MARTY comes slowly up the path. We hear soft grunts of

exertion; he's still hand-turning the wheels for the sake of

silence, and it's hard work. He stops at the line of bushes

and gets the bag of fireworks. He puts it on his lap and

starts moving again.

EXT. THE COSLAW DRIVEWAY, FROM THE ROAD

The driveway has a slight downslant, and MARTY coasts easily

out to the road. He turns right and begins to roll slowly

along the verge of the highway, still using his hands. We

can see that the light is still on upstairs. MARTY turns

back once to verify this himself, then keeps on going. He's

not going to be deprived of his treat.

EXT. MARTY

He decides he's far enough away to be safe. He pushes the

starter button. The engine cranks, coughs, and cranks some

more. MARTY frowns, and pulls out a wire- a rudimentary

choke, I suppose. He pushes the starter button again. It

cranks, but doesn't start.

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