Strange Days

A burst of bright white static exploding across the

darkness. A high whine on the audio track gives way to

street sounds and rapid breathing.

AN IMAGE wavers and stabilizes: A nervous POV. We're in a

car, sitting in the backseat, and we're nervous, the view

swinging around, showing the street rolling by outside the

windows, then whipping back to the two guys in the front

seat.

Our POV looks down at a SMALL RECORDING DEVICE in "our"

hands. A red LED is flashing. We slip the recorder into

a coat pocket.

OUR VOICE:

Okay. It's goin'. I'm recording.

The guy riding shotgun, LANE, is just pulling a pantyhose

over his head, smearing his features into a pig-like mask.

He turns, DIRECTLY TO THE LENS, pissed off.

LANE:

Good one, d*ckhead. Thanks for

waitin' till I get this f***in thing

on. You tryin' ta I.D. me, or

what?

He tosses another pantyhose right at us and we catch it.

Our POV looks down, into the pantyhose, which comes up

over our field of view.

We realize:
this is not some ride-along verite video.

WE ARE ONE OF THESE GUYS. Real honest-to-God point of

view, with no cuts, no music. This is not film, it is

human experience.

The driver is a Hispanic guy named "SPAZ" DIAZ. Lane is a

white guy who looks very strung out. Couple of

crackheads. The car is a mid-seventies barge, piebald

with primer.

LANE:

Next alley... just pull in slow.

(turning to us)

Hurry up will ya. Here.

He hands us a big stainless steel revolver. The POV looks

down as our shaky hands snap open the cylinder, check the

rounds, snap it closed.

Diaz pulls the barge into an alley. The headlights

illuminate overflowing dumpsters. A Chicano busboy is

making trash runs out the back door of a restaurant, which

he has chocked open. The busboy goes back inside.

LANE:

Let's go.

Out of the car, quickly, our own breathing loud in our

ears. We even hear our own heartbeat, racing now.

Through the door, after Lane, moving fast.

Into the kitchen. Fluorescent glare. The busboy turning,

surprised, Lane putting the shotgun in his face. Freezing

him. Lane puts a finger to his lips: "quiet" in any

language.

Our hand puts the magnum in the THAI COOK's face. We get

them down on the greasy floor, Lane controlling them with

the shotgun. He looks at us, snaps his eyes toward the

front room.

We hear voices as we approach the swing door. Go through.

Whip pan left, then right. Scoping the layout. Low-rent

THAI place. Red wallpaper. Closing time. Middle-aged

Thai OWNER, by the cash-register, counting money. Young

Thai WAITRESS, cleaning up. They look up, stunned, as we

put the gun on them.

OUR VOICE:

(shouting, edgy)

Don't move, don't talk, don't do

nothing.

Our POV is whipping around, from the front door to the

owner to the kitchen where Lane is standing in the doorway

covering the cook and busboy, back to the owner as he

steps back from the cash-register.

We scoop up the big wad of bills: seven, eight hundred

bucks in tens and fives.

Now yelling, herding the owner and the waitress into the

kitchen, the owner trying to calm the girl in singsongy

Thai, Lane shouting at him to shut up.

Into the walk-in cooler. The steel door closes on four

scared pair of eyes. POV looking around, seeing... a

dish-rack. Our hand pulls out a spoon, drops the spoon

handle through the hole in the cooler door-latch. Locking

them in.

Lane heading out the back door. Laughing, as he looks at

the wad of cash our hand is waving in front of him.

We follow Lane to the car. Snap a look down the alley one

way, then the other.

Sh*t! Cop Black-and-White pulling into the far end of the

alley. Heartbeat goes triple time. Scrambling into the

car.

Door not even closed and SPAZ has it in reverse, burning

rubber as he launches back down the alley.

SCRUNCH! The car grinds along one wall as SPAZ steers

wildly backward. Sparks right next to us. Then--

KBOOM! As we slam into a dumpster and push it right out

into the street.

The cop has his lights and siren on, and is roaring at us

as SPAZ cranks the wheel and punches it down the street.

He curses in English and Spanish as he weaves between

cars. We pull off the stocking to see better.

The cop car surges onto the street behind us.

Looking ahead. A red light. Cars stopped, blocking the

way. Cutting to the right, onto the sidewalk, around the

cars, into the intersection.

A near miss with cross traffic, then accelerating.

Another red light ahead.

LANE:

Don't stop!

Truck entering the intersection. Everyone yelling. SPAZ

cuts the wheel but too late...

Clipping the truck and spinning.

The street outside smearing past like the view from a

Tilt-a-whirl.

Then KBLAM! Hitting something, God-knows-what, and

launching up and over, and--

KRUNCH! Crushing metal and an explosion of broken glass.

It gets quiet and still. Tinkling glass as Lane moves.

Then SPAZ is screaming. The car is upside down.

Crawling out of the side window. A frenzy now.

Whip pan to see the cops pulling up.

Then whipping back to the wreck. The engine is burning.

Flames spreading rapidly. SPAZ inside, pinned, upside

down, blood pumping across his face.

Our hands pulling Lane out. He comes up running.

We run after him, sprinting toward the welcoming darkness

of an alley.

Panting breath and heartbeats and sirens and somebody

yelling.

Gunshots. Looking back. Cops next to their car, firing.

Ahead, Lane running into shadow.

Then a door opening, a man coming out of a metal firedoor.

Lane grabbing him, throwing him out of the way, holding

the door open as we dive through into--

A stairwell. Lane sprinting up, two steps at a time.

Trying the door at the second floor landing. Locked.

Sh*t.

Running up. Dizzying whirl as we run, up and up.

The POV is finally broken by a...

CUT TO:

INT. UNDERGROUND GARAGE

But we don't know where we are yet. We see a man in

extreme close-up: just his eyes and mouth. The eyes are

closed, the eyeballs tracking under the lids, like he is

watching a movie in there. This is LENNY.

LENNY:

This is great... the doors are all

locked. Who are these losers,

friends of yours?

CUT TO:

BACK TO POV as we reach the fifth floor landing. Lane is

coming unglued as he finds this door locked. We look

down, see cops coming two floors below. One cranks off a

couple rounds at us and we snap back from the railing.

Pounding up the last flight. Finally! The door is

unlocked.

Blasting through it, behind Lane, onto the roof. Running

all out past AC units and pipes, air vents. Looking up:

an LAPD helicopter orbiting close. It flicks the xenon

onto us and we are running in a vibrating circle of blue

daylight.

Running along the edge of the roof. Looking down. Car

burning upside down in the street below. The gas tank

explodes, filling the street with orange light. We don't

slow. We're running all out.

LENNY (V.O.)

Wow... the gas tank is a nice touch.

Oh, oh, end of the line boys.

Ahead, in POV we see the edge of the roof coming up.

Beyond it is another building, about ten feet lower and

separated by a 20 foot alley.

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