The Crow Page #10

ERIC:

Neither.

FUNBOY:

Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself.

Funboy

lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the

gun. Eric

falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on

top of him, howling

like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric

relentlessly.

FUNBOY:

I hate

trespassers!

(whack!)

I hate prowlers!

(whack!)

I hate

peeping toms!

(whack!)

And right now I hate you!

ANGLE - WALL

NEAR BATHROOM:

as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and

weakened by

his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing.

Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he

looms,

cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it.

FUNBOY:

Ahh, the

hell with it, I still got

five shots left.

In a blur, Eric grabs

Funboy`s gun hand. Twists to the

crunching of bones. Funboy's

skewed-around gun hand blows a

hole in his own thigh. Funboy fall back

across the bed.

FUNBOY:

Owwwaaaa -- f*** me! Look what

you did to my

sheets, you lame

piece'a sh*t! AAAAaa! Goddd!

ERIC:

Does it hurt?

FUNBOY:

Does it hurt?! You dead-ass,

clown-faced f***, of course it

f***ing hurts! What the sh*t are

you gonna do about this?!

Eric sits

on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of

morphine on the

nightstand, the needle of the syringe already

inserted.

ERIC:

I have

some pain killer right here.

And he fills the syringe all the way.

ANGLE ON FUNBOY:

as he begins to see the light. He can't get away.

Growing

terror.

FUNBOY:

No, wait, no WAIT, that's too

much, man,

that's like overkill,

nobody can take that much, you're

wasting it -- !

ERIC:

Your pain ends now.

And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart,

driving home

the full dose. Funboy begins to convulse.

Eric falls back

on the bed, his force spent. Darla COMES TO in

the corner,

shock-traumatized. On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens

his eyes.

The Skull

Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat.

SKULL COWBOY:

Howdy

(beat)

You look a mess. Like an ole

cooter dog.

TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S

FACE:

streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood.

ANOTHER ANGLE - THE

SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC

SKULL COWBOY:

Getting a little ambitious and

extracurricular, aren't we?

ERIC:

Go away.

SKULL COWBOY:

You need

to learn to mind your own

business or you'll never get where

you think

you're going.

ERIC:

Shut up.

SKULL COWBOY:

Maybe I was wrong about

you.

The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed. All we get is

a

little shake of his skull-head.

Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns

toward her. She's really

confused. She's looking to Eric for some kind

of answer.

ERIC:

Your daughter is out there, on the

street, waiting

for you.

She's stunned, utterly speechless. All she can do is look in

Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there.

ERIC:

Go. Now.

Darla

shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without

a glance back

at Funboy.

Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door,

stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with

Funboy. The

Skull Cowboy has vanished. PUSH IN. Grimly, Eric

takes a syringe and

begins to draw blood from the late Funboy.

INT. THE PIT - NIGHT

As a

hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door

behind Grange

and FLEES the Pit.

BOUNCER:

Hey, g'night, Darla.

(to Grange)

That there is Darla.

GRANGE:

Funboy?

Bartender indicates UP with his

thumb. Grange moves to the fire

stairs door.

INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM -

NIGHT:

Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first. Freezes

when he sees:

GRANGE POV - FUNBOY

Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging

out of his heart.

RESUME GRANGE:

Eyes darting, drawn to --

GRANGE'S POV

- THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY

A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of

Funboy's

blood. A thin outline, drippy.

RESUME GRANGE:

whirling with

his gun to bring it to bear on --

ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW

The

crow is no longer in the room. Eric is perched on the sill,

guitar and

all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him.

He winks, holds a

finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out

into the night.

ANOTHER ANGLE:

- GRANGE

He almost fires, but doesn't. We see instead the priceless

expression on his face as we --

CUT TO:

INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT

Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night. Waves to

the

late-working Annabella en route.

EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT

Albrecht

hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him,

cat silent,

matching pace.

NB:
Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and

a

shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair.

ERIC:

Freeze.

Albrecht startles; drops his file. Nearly draws his gun.

ALBRECHT:

Jeezus! Don't ever do that, man!

Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming

down. Eric waits.

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

I told you cops don't say

"freeze".

He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers.

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

You, my friend, are dead. I saw

your body. You got

buried.

ERIC:

I saw it, too.

Albrecht gathers up the file. Eric

stands there. We realize he

is hesitant about touching the file.

ERIC:

(CONT'D)

Walk with me.

As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET

ALBRECHT:

You died,

man. I can't believe it

but here you are. Last year,

you and your

girlfriend --

ERIC:

I need you to tell me what you

remember. What

happened to us?

ALBRECHT:

You went out the window. She was

beaten

and raped. She died in the

hospital.

They stop. Eric didn't know

this. Fixes Albrecht with a look.

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)

Hey, you asked,

man.

(beat)

She held on for thirty hours in

intensive care.

Hemorrhage,

trauma. He body just finally

gave it up.

(beat;

regret)

I saw it and couldn't do jack for

her.

Eric has grown

increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines.

Now he turns to Albrecht

and, holding Albrecht's temples with

his fingers, puts his thumbs over

Albrecht's eyes.

TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL

We see Eric

react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the

Flash.

NEW ANGLE -

ERIC AND ALBRECHT

And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now

holding his own

head. His crow face slacked in realized horror.

ALBRECHT:

You okay, man? I mean, what just

happened.

ERIC:

The venom

of bad memories. You

were there; you saw her. I saw

you seeing her.

Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette.

ALBRECHT:

You

gotta understand -- I was

hoping she'd talk, give me a lead,

a clue,

something to work with.

But she only said one thing to me

before she

died.

Eric lowers his head, penitent.

ERIC:

My name.

ALBRECHT:

(fizzles)

I'm sorry as hell, man.

ERIC:

Thirty hours. A day of life,

plus

change...

TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC

Eric plucks the

cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single

contemplative puff from

it.

ERIC:

Halloween is coming, soon. You

will have Top Dollar if you

watch

for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night.

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