The Game Page #18

HORNS BLAST. Nicholas comes to the officer, relieved...

NICHOLAS:

Do you speak English? I'm an

American.

The policeman scolds Nicholas in SPANISH, shoos him away.

Nicholas searches his empty pockets...

NICHOLAS:

Listen... they took my wallet...

(insistent, of himself)

American. I am an American citizen.

The policeman shouts angrily, grabs Nicholas' arm. Nicholas

reflexively pulls away...

NICHOLAS:

No, you don't understand, I'm an

American...

The policeman unsheathes his baton -- STRIKES Nicholas.

Nicholas hits the street, raising his arms in defense. The

policeman SWINGS AGAIN...

Hits Nicholas' skull. Nicholas runs, escaping thru traffic.

The policeman curses after him.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICAN BUS STOP -- DAY

Hot. Nicholas sits on a bench, a dried blood trail down his

face, holding balled-up newspaper to his bleeding head.

Others on the BUSY SIDEWALK don't even take notice of him.

Nicholas checks to see if he's clotted, tosses the

newspaper. He watches traffic pass, sits forward, elbows on

his knees, staring at the sidewalk.

NICHOLAS:

... f***...

Tears forming in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, stops

himself, swallowing back despair, deciding. Determined...

He gets up and walks. He picks up the pace, running.

LONG SHOT:
Nicholas running, across one street, down

another, a strange sight in his filthy white suit. Stopping

now and then to ask questions of passerbys, moving on...

FOLLOW:
Nicholas continuing, stopping in a SHOP DOORWAY.

NICHOLAS:

(to SHOPKEEPER)

The embassy? Please... the American

embassy, do you know it?

No answer. Nicholas continues, slowing. Ahead down the

sidewalk, there's another MEXICAN COP, tough-looking.

Nicholas hesitates, then, approaches...

NICHOLAS:

Excuse me... Buenos Diaz, I'm looking

for the United States embassy. U.S.

embassy, please... pour favor?

The cop seems angry, eyeing Nicholas' appearance, deciding.

The cop points down the street. Nicholas heads away.

NICHOLAS:

Thank you. Thank you, sir.

Nicholas runs.

EXT. AMERICAN EMBASSY -- ESTABLISHING -- LATER DAY

"Embassy of the United States of America, MEXICO CITY."

INT. AMERICAN EMBASSY, OFFICE �- DAY

A secretary leads Nicholas in from a crowded hallway. An

American COUNSELOR rises from his small desk in his small

office, shaking Nicholas' hand, taking PAPERWORK.

COUNSELOR:

Please, sit...

Nicholas sits in a metal chair. A fan blows, poor remedy in

the heat. The counselor reads the paperwork.

NICHOLAS:

Mister...

(sees desk name plate)

Mister Patterson. Some things have

happened... it's important that I...

The counselor holds up his hand, still reading...

COUNSELOR:

No money, no identification or

passport. You are in a fix.

(looks up from papers)

What did happen to you?

NICHOLAS:

Well, where to begin. It's

complicated...

COUNSELOR:

(matter of fact)

It always is.

Nicholas looks to the counselor, who sips a glass of water

and looks at papers. Nicholas takes a moment, rethinks.

NICHOLAS:

What happened was, I'm on vacation,

alone... I was robbed, at gunpoint.

They hit me and ran. Two men, a few

blocks away. They took my wallet,

money... all of it. So...

COUNSELOR:

Robbed?

NICHOLAS:

Yes.

COUNSELOR:

Have you gone to the police?

NICHOLAS:

I don't speak Spanish. All I need is

to get back... just enough for that.

The counselor taps his finger on desk's edge.

COUNSELOR:

We'll help with the police, if you

want to bother. As far as money

goes... can I make a suggestion?

(off Nicholas' nod)

You say you were mugged?

NICHOLAS:

Yes.

COUNSELOR:

And, they didn't take that watch?

Nicholas looks at the ROLEX he's wearing, didn't realize it

till now, having taken it for granted.

COUNSELOR:

How much is it? A few thousand, at

least. A Rolex like that... lucky

for you they missed it.

NICHOLAS:

Yes, very lucky.

INT. MEXICO CITY PAWN SHOP -- LATER DAY

INSCRIBED on the back of Nicholas' ROLEX: "On your 18th

birthday, your father's watch. Love, Mother"

The FEMALE OWNER examines the Rolex inside a rusty metal

cage, makes a face. Nicholas is at the front of the long

line in this impossibly cluttered pawn shop.

PAWN SHOP OWNER:

Cincuenta dolares Americano. Fifty.

NICHOLAS:

Fifty? Do you know...

(deep sigh)

It's a Rolex. It's gold. Not gold

colored, actual gold.

PAWN SHOP OWNER:

Si, oro. Cincuenta y cinco.

Cincuenta y cinco Estados Unidos.

Nicholas runs his hands thru his hair... resigned.

NICHOLAS:

You see, all you had to do was get in

the ballpark. Yes, fifty-five... si,

senorita.

The owner counts battered dollar bills from a cigar box.

CUT TO:

EXT. BUS STOP/TACO STAND -- DAY

At a faltering TACO STAND painted in peeling orange paint,

Nicholas pays for tacos wrapped in paper and a bottle of

Budweiser. A bus ticket sticks out his breast pocket.

Nicholas steps away, wolfing down the food, following it

with guzzled beer. MANY PEOPLE are waiting for the bus, on

and around benches, suitcases and belongs in piles.

Nicholas looks, still chewing, to THREE YOUNG MEXICAN

CHILDREN staring at him. They stand with their plump

MOTHER, just watching him. Nicholas faces away, eating.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICAN HIGHWAY -- DUSK

A repainted SCHOOL BUS zooms past, trailing exhaust.

INT. BUS -- DUSK

Not one empty seat. At the back, Nicholas' eyes flutter

under their lids. He SNORES QUIETLY. The MOTHER of the

three Mexican children is next to him, one child in her lap.

She's asleep, leaning toward Nicholas. The child's awake.

The bus shifts, GEARS GRINDING, and mother slides further

over till her head rests on Nicholas' shoulder. Nicholas

awakens, looking at Mother against him.

The child looks up at Nicholas. Nicholas looks at the

child. Nicholas puts his head back, closes his eyes.

After a moment, the bus jerks and Nicholas opens his eyes,

turning to look out the window, watching a far-reaching

SUNSET. Crimson and gold clouds.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEXICO/UNITED STATES BORDER -� NIGHT

In the line of vehicles at the U.S. BORDER, the BUS' BRAKES

HISS, doors swinging open for an AMERICAN BORDER OFFICER...

INT. BUS -- NIGHT

The BORDER OFFICER comes on, not a calming presence. The

Mexican passengers know what to do, holding up GREEN CARDS

and PASSPORTS for perusal...

The officer grunts at each passenger he approves, moving on.

Nicholas slides lower in his seat. Mother, beside him,

produces her GREEN CARD and holds it aloft, waiting.

The officer comes to glare at Nicholas.

Nicholas looks back at him, unblinking.

The officer looks to Mother's card. He says something in

SPANISH. Mother responds in SPANISH. The officer grabs her

card, speaking, dissatisfied.

He shouts for Mother to get off... hurrying her up, moving

her out...

Mother moves, carrying the child in her lap, hastening the

other two children seated in front of her.

Mother protests about her rope-bound SUITCASES in the

overhead shelf, trying to grip one, arms full of child. The

official pulls her along, ignoring...

Nicholas watches. He rises...

OUTSIDE THE BUS:

Mother and three children are unloaded. The official waves

the bus on to the border, despite Mother's protest.

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