Strange Days Page #13

ON LENNY, reacting. Going white.

MACE:

What is it?

LENNY:

Go to the Sunset Sheraton. RIGHT

NOW! Just go! GO!

Lenny goes back under the wire, seeing...

WE ARE DRAGGING a semiconscious Iris into the bathroom...

propping her up with her back against the white tile

wall... grabbing her hands and handcuffing them one by one

to the steel towel rack above her. She is moaning. And

crying.

IRIS:

(voice distorted)

I haven't seen your face... I

haven't heard your voice... you can

still let me go...

ZAP! The Wearer hits her with the stunner again. She

jerks and gasps for breath. We see our latex-gloved

finger come up in front of us and hear SSSHHH.

Moving quickly now. Our hands unbuckle the fanny pack.

Pull out something... a set of playback trodes. Our hands

place them on her head. She stares uncomprehending.

What? We catch a glimpse of some electronics stuff inside

the pack... a record deck, some wires, a small metal box.

LENNY:

Holy sh*t. He's jacking her in to

his own output. She's seeing what

he's seeing. She's seeing herself.

Iris can now see herself as the Wearer sees her... wide-

eyed with terror, white-lipped, weeping. Helpless. And

she can feel what he feels.

The Wearer's hand goes back into the fanny-pack and pulls

out something else. A black athletic headband. We slip

it over her head, down over her eyes. A blindfold. Now

she can only see what the wearer sees.

And also from the bag we pull... a yellow plastic object.

With our thumb we extend the five inch blade of the razor

knife, the type with tips that can be broken off by

segments when they get dull. It extends with an ominous

clicking sound.

We lower it toward her and cut up the middle of her T-

shirt, laying it open. Exposing her torso. We then look

down and slide the knife under the side band of her

panties, slicing them off. We put the knife up to her

throat, and she whimpers, afraid to cry out, and then we

draw the flat side of the blade across her body as if to

tease her with the prospect of her death.

MACE LOOKS AT LENNY'S EXPRESSION of dawning horror and

pulls the car to the curb about a half-block from the

Sunset Sheraton. Lenny is hyperventilating, shifting in

his seat as if ants are crawling over him. He is

experiencing the stalker's exhilaration.

IN POV we see the Wearer pull his jogging pants down below

his knees (R-rated please) and reach for Iris. Kneeling

in front of her, he pushes her legs apart and pulls her

hips forward onto him, pushing into her.

Iris is feeling and seeing what he sees and feels... She

feels her own pain and humiliation swirling with the

killer's exhilaration.

ON LENNY, sweating and barely able to breath. Mace stops

the tape... concerned by Lenny's reaction. He opens his

eyes... Mace see the fear there, of what the tape may

reveal. But he shakes his head. He has to know. He

pushes her hand away and punches PLAY.

IT FLOODS INTO HIS HEAD AGAIN. The sweaty, grunting

horror. The stalker picks up her slit T-shirt and quickly

wraps it around her neck. He knots it tight and twists

one powerful hand into the knot. The muscles in his

forearm look like cables as he turns the knot tighter.

The stalker viciously twists the knot a full turn and the

T-shirt fabric almost disappears into the skin under her

jaw.

Via her trodes, Iris watches herself die. Her death comes

at the moment of his orgasm which is fed to her...

blasting off the planet on total overload... terror, pain,

death merging with ecstasy and exultation at the same

instant.

ON LENNY, crying out and grabbing for the trodes, but he

just holds onto them, as if they are sucking his brains

out of his skull.

LENNY:

(like a mantra)

On my God. Oh my God.

BACK TO POV, a glimpse of the Wearer's hand relaxing the

knot. Iris' head lolls. Her mouth is slack and open. We

remove her blindfold. Her eyes are half-lidded. Very

dead looking. Our fingers gently push them wide open.

BACK TO LENNY, looking like he has been gut kicked. He

gasps for breath.

TO POV, as the killer's hand calmly moves Iris' head from

side to side... studying her dead face. Her staring eyes.

He leans very close to her and stares into one dead eye,

the pupil wide, seeing nothing.

A burst of static. End of tape.

Lenny opens his eyes. He fumbles open the car door and

practically rolls out onto the sidewalk. The trodes pull

off his head as he lurches up, reeling across the sidewalk

to a darkened storefront where he leans for support. He

doubles over and heaves up the contents of his stomach.

Mace circles around the car and catches him as he sags to

his knees. She holds his shoulders while he throws up

again.

MACE:

My God, Lenny. What is it?

LENNY:

Black. Jack.

MACE:

Blackjack? I don't understand--

LENNY:

Snuff clip. It was Iris. She said

she needed my help and I... aw

Jesus, Mace... the sick f***er

killed her.

MACE:

Are you sure it's real?

Lenny looks up, in the direction of the hotel. Mace

follows his glance. They notice for the first time: cop

lights; cop cars; ambulance; coroner's wagon.

CLOSE on Iris' body, in a bag, being loaded into the

coroner's van.

CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT/DIM SUM JOINT/LITTLE TOKYO - NIGHT

Neon reflections on the roof of Mace's limo as it pulls

into the lot and slides up to Max's car. Max is sitting

in the open door, feet on the pavement, eating dumplings

from a take-out carton. He looks up as Lenny and Mace get

out of the limo. Sees their expressions.

MAX:

Ohhhh sh*t.

TIME CUT:
Lenny, sitting on the hood of Mace's Lincoln,

has his head propped in his hands. His eyes are

distant... replaying. Still shocked to his soul. Mace

paces nearby.

Max sits in the open door of his car ten feet away, trodes

on, playing back the tape. His face is transformed into

an ashen mask lit by neon... mouth open in shock. With

shaky hands he stops the deck.

Opens his eyes. Long beat. He glances down at the dim-

sum carton in his hands.

MAX:

Well... I've lost my appetite.

(lofts it into a

nearby dumpster)

For about a year.

He gets to his feet, offering the deck and trodes to Mace.

MACE:

No way.

Max pulls a hip-flask full of tequila from his army jacket

and takes an eye-watering pull. Offers it to Lenny, who

follows suit.

MAX:

You alright? Y'okay?

LENNY:

Yeah. No, not really.

MAX:

Let's work it.

LENNY:

Not now... I don't want to think

about it--

MAX:

Come on, Lenny. You used to be good

at this stuff. Play it down.

What's the perp doing?

LENNY:

He stalks her. He rapes her. Then

he does her...

MAX:

And he records it. Thrill kill.

Wants to see it again. And again.

LENNY:

He records himself raping and

killing her--

MAX:

But at the same time he's sending

the signal to her--

LENNY:

So she feels... what he feels...

while he's in her. The thrill while

he's killing her... is sent to her,

heightening her fear... which in

turn heightens the turn on for him.

(turns to him)

I've seen a lot, Max.

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