Silver Bullet Page #16

JANE (voice)

Father?

LOWE:

Take your cart around to the garage

and unload, Jane! Then bring me your

tally sheet!

EXT. JANE, ON THE PORCH

JANE:

Okay!

EXT. JANE, A WIDER SHOT

She goes down the steps and starts to push the cart around

the house.

INT. THE KITCHEN, WITH LOWE

He crosses to the window over the kitchen sink, the bloody

chunk of meat still in his hands, and looks out.

EXT. JANE, LOWE'S POV

She pushes the cart along a path toward a combination garage

and utility shed at the back.

INT. THE KITCHEN, WITH LOWE

Still watching JANE, he begins to gnaw ravenously at the

meat again.

EXT. JANE, AT THE SHED-GARAGE

She opens the door and slowly pushes her cart inside.

INT. THE UTILITY SHED-GARAGE, WITH JANE

This is a creepy little place, now filled with bottles and

cans that have been crammed in helter-skelter, every which

way. JANE obviously doesn't like it. She begins to unload

her cart rapidly, mumbling numbers to herself.

SOUND:
SQUEAKING.

JANE looks down.

INT. THE UTILITY SHED-GARAGE FLOOR, JANE'S POV

A good-sized mouse comes out from between a pile of stacked

bottles and runs across JANE'S shoe.

INT. JANE

She utters a litle scream and shrinks back against the wall,

bumping it quite hard. Hard enough to knock something off an

overhead shelf. It falls into the bottles, SHATTERING

several. JANE screams again- not terribly loud- and then

slowly bends toward the object and picks it up.

JANE holds it, both puzzled and scared.

EXT. THE BACK DOOR OF THE RECTORY

JANE approaches it, holding a piece of paper in her hand-

her tally sheet. She knocks. Waits. There is no answer. She

knocks again. Waits. No answer. She tries the door. It

opens.

JANE:

Father Lowe?

No answer. After a moment of interior debate, JANE enters

the kitchen.

INT. JANE, IN THE RECTORY KITCHEN

She looks around. No one here. But there is a bloody spot on

the counter- LOWE must have set his grisly luncheon down

here for a moment. She walks slowly across the kitchen and

into the dark hall.

JANE:

Father Lowe?... I've got my tally sheet...

Farther into the hall. A hand drops onto her shoulder.

LOWE (voice)

Very good, Jane!

She jumps, and so do we. She turns around and looks up at:

INT. FATHER LOWE, ECU

Featuring his eyes- his eye, rather. The left is covered

with a black eye-patch.

LOWE (grins)

Good, Jane. Very... very good.

He holds his hand out, and JANE puts the tally sheet in it

like one in a dream. She can't take her eyes off that black

patch, which tells her everything.

INT. THE HALLWAY, WITH JANE AND LOWE

LOWE (concerned)

Jane! You're trembling!

JANE:

I... I don't feel so well, I guess

maybe I got too much sun.

LOWE:

Would you like to come in the parlor and

lie down for a bit? Or have a cold drink?

I have some soda-

JANE:

No! (softer) That is, I have to get home

and help my mom with lunch.

LOWE:

I'll give you a ride!

JANE is retreating down the hall toward the front door.

JANE:

No- she... she was going to meet me at the

market. I'll be fine.

INT. LOWE, CU

How much does he know? How much has he guessed? Hard to tell

from his face, which now seems sinister, with its eye-patch.

LOWE:

Give my best to your brother, Jane.

INT. JANE, AT THE PORCH END OF THE HALLWAY

JANE:

I will.

She bolts.

INT. LOWE, IN THE HALLWAY

CAMERA HOLDS ON HIM, standing silent and enigmatic.

LOWE (soft)

Real slow.

EXT. THE COSLAW BACKYARD, WITH MARTY

His eyes are wide. He's leaning forward in his wheelchair.

MARTY (almost moaning)

Oh, Jeez! What did you do then?

EXT. JANE AND MARTY

She's changed into shorts and a blouse.

JANE:

I ran faster than I ever ran in my life-

what do you think, dummox? By the time I

got back here, I really thought I was

going to faint. (Pause) What are we going

to do, Marty? If we tried to tell anybody-

grown-ups, I mean- they'd laugh. What are

we going to do?

MARTY (thoughtfully)

I think I know.

INT. A SHEET OF RULED SCHOOL NOTEBOOK PAPER, CU

A hand- MARTY'S- comes into the frame and prints: I KNOW WHO

YOU ARE, AND I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.

INT. MARTY'S ROOM, WITH MARTY

He's sitting at his desk, a pool of light from the lamp

focused on the sheet of paper before him. He thinks a

moment, then begins to write again.

INT. THE NOTEBOOK PAD, CU

He is adding:
WHY DON'T YOU KILL YOURSELF?

INT. MARTY, AT HIS DESK

He studies this for a second, and seems satisfied. He opens

a drawer, brings out an envelope, and folds his letter into

it.

EXT. JANE, ON MAIN STREET

She has the letter in her hand. She approaches the mailbox,

opens the mailbox door, and then glances at the envelope

again.

EXT. THE ENVELOPE, JANE'S POV

Addressed in pencil, it says: FATHER LESTER LOWE/HOLY FAMILY

RECTORY; 149 MAIN STREET/TARKER'S MILLS, MAINE.

EXT. JANE, AT THE MAILBOX

She drops the letter in with the air of a girl lighting the

fuse on a packet of high explosives. She turns away toward

home.

INT. THE RECTORY LIVING ROOM, WITH LESTER LOWE

He's standing at the window and looking out. The torn-open

envelope is on an end table beside him. He's holding the

lined sheet of paper in his hand. An expression of bitter

hate twists his features, and he slowly crumples the paper

in his fist.

EXT. JANE, AT THE MAIN STREET MAILBOX

She drops in another letter and walks away.

JANE (v-o)

I mailed another letter for Marty the

next day... a third the day after that.

Then, on Saturday...

EXT. THE TARKER'S MILLS COMMON, LONG

Parked at the curb is UNCLE AL'S sports car.

JANE (v-o)

...we told Uncle Al what we'd been up to.

(Pause) His reaction was less than serene.

EXT. UNCLE AL, JANE, AND MARTY, ON THE COMMON

UNCLE AL:

Holy-jumped-up-baldheaded-Jesus-CHRIST!

JANE:

Uncle Al-

UNCLE AL (to JANE)

From him I'd expect it. I sometimes think

his common sense got paralyzed along with

his legs. But you, Jane! You! Little

Polly Practical!

JANE (quiet)

You don't understand.

UNCLE AL (wildly)

Oh, I understand plenty! I understand that

my niece and nephew are sending the local

Catholic priest little love notes suggesting

that he gargle with a broken light bulb or

eat a rat-poison omelet!

MARTY:

It came for me! I shot it in the eye! Now he's

wearing an eye-patch!

UNCLE AL:

I called Peltzer on my way over here,

Marty! Father Lowe came into the drugstore

two days ago for a bottle of otic solution.

That's a fancy way of saying eyewash. He's

got a corneal inflammation.

MARTY:

Was it a prescription?

UNCLE AL:

What the hell does that matter?

MARTY:

It wasn't- I'll bet you it wasn't. Because

to get a prescription he'd have to see a

doctor.

UNCLE AL:

Marty, Marty, you should hear yourself!

MARTY:

Well... was it a prescription?

UNCLE AL:

I don't know. But I know you didn't see

any werewolf the other night, Marty. You

had a dream, that's all. An extremely

realistic nightmare brought on by what's

been happening in this town.

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