Strange Days Page #4

CUT TO:

A GAME ARCADE. Light and noise as the customers drop

quarters for synthetic thrills. Lenny is talking to a

nice-looking street kid in his early 20's named EDUARDO.

EDUARDO:

Let me get this straight... you

gonna pay me 200 bucks to put on a

hair net and bang some beautiful

babe. I don't know, I gotta think

about this.

Lenny smiles and pulls out a SQUID-net. He motions

Eduardo into the shadows.

LENNY:

Okay, let's get you wired up. I

hope this axle grease you got in

your hair doesn't screw up the squid

receptors.

EDUARDO:

What's all this squid sh*t?

As Lenny works, fitting the network of sensors over

Eduardo's head, he holds class.

LENNY:

Superconducting QUantum Interference

Device. SQUID. Got it? There's

gonna be a test.

EDUARDO:

Hey, f*** you, man.

LENNY:

Easy, Eduardo, easy. Preserve a

sense of humor at all times. Okay,

the receptor rig... what I'm putting

on your head... sends a signal to

the recorder.

(Lenny holds up the

recorder)

See we call it "being wired," but

there's no wire. You gotta keep the

recorder close... five, six feet

away max, like in your jacket pocket

by the bed or wherever you're going

to close escrow, know what I mean?

EDUARDO:

Yeah, right.

Lenny fits a wig from his briefcase over Eduardo's head,

turning him into a headbanger. Eduardo scowls at this

set-back to his suavete.

LENNY:

Some tips. Don't dart your eyes

around. Don't look in the mirror or

you'll ID yourself. OK? You got a

half hour of tape, so give me some

lead-in to the main event. But

don't wait too long, I don't want to

be going out for popcorn. And don't

act natural. Don't act at all.

Just forget the thing is on. Got

it?

EDUARDO:

No problem.

LENNY:

A star is born.

CUT TO:

EXT. TRAIN YARD - NIGHT

A woman's feet moving along the steel rail of a train

track at night. The woman has no shoes, her feet bare.

IRIS stumbles along the track, clutching one shoe

pointlessly to her chest. She is swearing and crying,

runny mascara leaving two tragic streaks down her pale

face. Despite this we see that she is attractive, though

her dress and make-up seem designed to convey overt

sexiness. Her white skin is complemented by a wild mane

of curly red hair.

She is in her early twenties, and the harshness of her

life has just begun to harden her features. She looks

lost and without hope, in fear of her life. Her breath

comes in hitching sobs, and her eyes are wild.

She runs between cold steel walls of freight cars, looking

behind her frequently. A police helicopter is circling.

Its xenon beam plays over the train yard, sweeping over

the cars. She hunches into the shadows of a freight-car

as the beam passes over. Looking under the cars she sees

an LAPD patrol car cruising down a street adjoining the

yard, its searchlight sweeping toward her. It moves on.

She continues her run, moving away from the direction of

the patrol car. She reaches a chain-link fence. Crying,

she scrambles over it, cutting her hands and ripping her

dress. Another patrol car passes two blocks away. She

crouches in the tall grass until it rounds a corner out of

sight.

CUT TO:

EXT. ALLEY AND STREET - NIGHT

Iris sprints down an alley between buildings. Rats

scatter into the shadows ahead of her. She doesn't seem

to notice. All she cares about are the police lights, and

the sound of the helicopter droning, circling.

She pauses at the mouth of the alley, scanning the well-

lit street beyond. There are people here: downtown low-

life street people. A half-block away is a brightly lit

sign marking the entrance to a Red-Line subway station.

She walks along the sidewalk, her eyes on the sign,

feeling exposed as she walks openly, her heart pounding.

She is a mess, but in this section of town people barely

glance at her.

LOW ANGLE on her bare feet, standing out amid the shoes

and boots of winter.

SHE CROSSES the street, and reaches the sidewalk just as a

black-and-white rounds the corner at the end of the block,

behind her.

IN THE CRUISER are TWO COPS, who are scanning the street.

They look intense. Revved up. They are BURDEN SPREG, a

massive, barrel-chested street-lifer in his mid-forties,

and DWAYNE ENGELMAN, an aggressive hard-on in his twenties

with a brush cut, a Nautilus body, and a face like a

ferret.

ENGELMAN:

She's a hooker, vice'll have her in

the book. We can pick her up later.

SPREG:

No. Now.

IRIS knows the cops are behind her. She is terrified to

turn. Finally she can't stand it any more. She breaks

into a run. The patrol car speeds up suddenly, roaring

after her.

Iris sprints along in her bare feet, all-out like a track

runner. The black-and-white screeches to the curb next to

her and the cops jump out.

Iris hits the stairs down to the subway station at a full-

tilt boogie, knocking down some poor old guy whose

groceries go flying.

CUT TO:

INT. SUBWAY STATION AND TRAIN

Iris trips on the landing, spins sprawling across the

filthy tile floor, and comes up running. Panting with

fear and exertion she clears the turnstiles like a

hurdler.

The cops pound down the stairs two at a time. Spreg draws

his 9mm. In his eyes we see an unaccountable craziness...

a hunter who has as much at stake somehow as the prey.

Street people fall back as Spreg thunders through them.

They aren't about to get in the way of this juggernaut cop

and his boy wonder.

The two cops reach the platform. No Iris in sight.

MOVING WITH THEM as they slow to a walk, scanning. A

couple of low-lifes standing around, waiting for trains,

eye them warily as Spreg gets a call on his Rover.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

Do you request back-up?

SPREG:

Negative. Suspect is a black male,

age 35 to 40. We're handling it.

A train pulls into the station with a whoosh of air. A

few people board. There is only the sound of the cops'

footsteps as they move along the empty platform. With a

pneumatic hiss the train's doors begin to close.

Suddenly Iris breaks from behind a column up ahead at a

full sprint. Spreg unleashes his size 13 cop shoes,

thundering along the platform to intercept her. Engelman

straight-arms his pistol.

ENGELMAN:

FREEZE!

Iris clears the doors just as they hiss shut. Her

momentum carries her clear across the car, where she slams

into the far wall and staggers back, almost falling. She

gasps for breath and looks up to see...

... Spreg crashing against the outside of the doors she

just came through as the train starts to move. He tries

to force the doors apart... can't. He aims his gun

through the window.

Thinking fast Iris dives to his side of the car and

presses herself up against the solid wall next to the

door, where he can't see her.

OUTSIDE, Spreg is running next to the accelerating train.

He swings his pistol, smashing the window with the butt.

Iris screams as Spreg lunges through the opening next to

her like some uniformed nightmare and grabs her. He is

still running alongside, pulling on her. Trying to drag

her right out through the window.

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