Silver Bullet Page #9

INT. THE CONGREGATION, WITH MARTY AND TAMMY

The kids are crying. MARTY puts an arm around TAMMY and she

puts her head on his shoulder.

INT. FATHER LOWE

LOWE:

The Bible tells us not to fear the terror

that creepeth by night or that which flieth

by noonday, and yet we do... we do. Because

there is much we don't know, and we feel

very small. But we must not be alone. We must

not allow ourselves to be alone, for there is

the wide gate to the hell of terror. Turn to

each other. Join hands in your sorrow and try

to remember that the face of the beast always

becomes known. (Pause) The time of the beast

always passes. (Pause) Let us pray.

EXT. THE MOURNERS, WITH MARTY

MARTY and TAMMY look at each other miserably. TAMMY begins

to cry- for her father as much as for BRADY, one would

think- and she and MARTY embrace.

EXT. UNCLE AL, CU

He looks at the kids with deep sympathy and deep love.

EXT. A COUNTRY ROAD AFTERNOON

UNCLE AL'S sports car passes THE CAMERA. He's taking MARTY

home.

INT. THE CAR, WITH MARTY AND UNCLE AL

UNCLE AL:

You all right, Marty?

MARTY:

Yeah.

UNCLE AL:

There's a saying- so-and-so was better than

a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. You

ever hear that one?

MARTY:

No.

UNCLE AL:

Well, I'm not sure that was. Christ! They

better get the guy.

MARTY:

Uncle Al, what if it's not a guy?

UNCLE AL:

Huh?

MARTY:

What if it's some kind of monster?

UNCLE AL (laughs)

Jesus, Marty! Come off it!

EXT. UNCLE AL'S CAR, ON MAIN STREET

It cruises past Owen's Pub. There are cars parked out front,

but there are also lots of pickup trucks.

INT. THE CAR, WITH MARTY AND UNCLE AL

MARTY:

What's going on at Owen's, Uncle Al?

UNCLE AL:

A bunch of men getting ready to pretend

they're Clint Eastwood... Marty, didn't

anybody ever tell you that the only monsters

are in comic books and drive-in movies?

EXT. THE COSLAW HOUSE LATE AFTERNOON

UNCLE AL'S car turns in and parks.

INT. THE CAR, WITH MARTY AND UNCLE AL

MARTY:

Tammy said she'd been hearing noises in

that greenhouse. Growling noises, like a

big animal. Her father was killed that night.

UNCLE AL looks at him doubtfully for a moment, as if almost

believing. Then he shakes his head.

UNCLE AL:

Marty, you have to get this idea out of

your head. Psychotics are more active

when the moon is full, and this guy is a

psycho. He's going to turn out to be as

human as you or me. (Pause) In a manner of

speaking. Now let's get you inside.

He opens his door and gets out.

INT. MARTY, CLOSER

He would like to believe UNCLE AL... but he doesn't.

INT. OWEN'S PUB LATE AFTERNOON

ANDY FAIRTON:

Okay, you all know what group you're in and

what area you'll be covering, right?

PORTER ZINNEMAN:

Damn straight!

ELMER ZINNEMAN:

Shut up, Porter.

The men are all dressed in hunting clothes-

red-and-black-checked shirts, orange caps, etc. They all

have guns. Among their number are a few women as well,

looking tough and determined. We see almost everyone we've

met up to this point. LOWE is there, looking deeply

troubled.

ANDY FAIRTON is standing on the bar. These are his

vigilantes; he has organized them. ANDY radiates male macho

football-coach confidence. He's mesmerized the crowd: they

really believe they are going to go out and Shoot One for

the Gipper.

ANDY:

Groups one through four are in the woods

north of the Sturmfuller place. Five and

six west of Carson Creek.

The door at the back opens; HALLER and PETE come in. JOE

HALLER is in extremely bad shape. He hasn't come back much

from the murder of BRADY. I believe he is having some sort

of spiritual crisis, and while it is not our purpose to

explore what it might be- this is, after all, a horror movie

and not a John Cassavetes film- we can see that it has

seriously weakened his authority.

ANDY (continuing)

Moonrise at 8:
52 p.m.

Some nervous laughter greets this. Meanwhile, HALLER and

PETE are working their way to the front, where they end up

next to a grim-faced HERB KINCAID.

ANDY (continuing)

If he comes out to stroll in the moonlight

tonight, we're going to get the sorry sucker.

INT. THE VIGILANTES, WITH ELMER AND PORTER

PORTER (happily)

Damn straight!

ELMER:

Shut up, Porter.

INT. ANDY FAIRTON

ANDY:

Just remember, it's the psycho we want, not

each other. So look before you-

INT. THE CROWD, FEATURING HALLER

HALLER:

I want all of you folks to go home!

A disgruntled murmur meets this. HALLER moves forward a bit,

and turns to face them.

HALLER:

I can't remember deputizing a single one

of you!

INT. ANDY FAIRTON

ANDY:

That's right, Joe- the only deputy you got is

that fat shitbag beside you, and neither one

of you has done a damn thing about solving

this case.

There is a mutter of agreement.

INT. A SLIGHTLY WIDER SHOT, FEATURING ANDY AND HALLER

ANDY hops off the bar to face HALLER directly. In the b.g.

we see HERB KINCAID (KINCAID, by the way, should be wearing

a black armband- he's come directly from his son's funeral).

HALLER (without much force)

We'll catch him.

ANDY:

You couldn't catch a cold.

HALLER looks at him for a moment, then turns to look at the

crowd. They look rather like a lynch mob; on their faces we

see an uneasy mix of shame and eager determination. HALLER

speaks with a kind of haggard, fading desperation.

HALLER:

The law has a name for what you men are

planning. It's private justice, and private

justice is about a step and a half away

from lynch mobs and hang ropes. I'm no

J. Edgar Hoover, but I am the law in Tarker's

Mills, and I want you men to go home.

They shuffle their feet uneasily; many look down. He is

getting to them.

ANDY:

Don't let this guy scare you! What's he done

since this thing started but hang his face out?

It's not working. Many of the men look disgusted with both

ANDY and themselves.

ANDY (louder)

He ain't got so much as a fingerprint!

OWEN KNOPFLER:

Ah, shut up, Andy.

ANDY:

Don't tell me to-

HERB KINCAID steps forward.

HERB:

Yes. Correct. Shut up.

ANDY, surprised and bewildered, does. HERB turns and looks

grimly at JOE HALLER, who can barely meet his gaze.

HERB (quietly)

I just came from my boy's funeral.

HALLER:

Herb...I know how upset- how grief-stricken

you must be...but-

HERB (quietly)

He was torn apart.

Utter silence in OWEN'S place now. The others are staring,

rapt.

HALLER:

Yes. Yes, but-

HERB (still quiet)

Upset, you say. Grief-stricken, you say.

Constable, you don't know what those words

mean. My son was torn to pieces. To pieces!

HERB turns to the others in the pub. Tears stream down his

face.

HERB:

My son was torn to pieces!

(turning back to HALLER)

You come in here and talk to these men

about private justice. You dare to do that.

Constable Haller, why don't you go out to

Harmony Hill and dig up what's left of Brady

and explain to him about private justice.

Would you want to do that?

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