The Leopard Man Page #4

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She puts the broom in the corner and goes to where Pedro is

seated. Here she stands a moment, fondly watching him as he

masticates his beans. Behind her the door stealthily opens.

Teresa tries to sneak back into the room. Mamacita sees the

movement and makes a tempestuous rush toward her, but Teresa

sidles out of the door before she can be caught. Mamacita,

muttering, slams the door shut and with difficulty pushes the

heavy, rust-covered iron bolt into place.

EXT. DOORWAY DELGADO HOUSE - NIGHT

Teresa stands outside the door. We hear the heavy bolt inside

driven home forcibly.

SRA. DELGADO'S VOICE

Now �� you will not come in again,

not until you bring the corn meal

with you!

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE DELGADO HOUSE - NIGHT

Teresa steps down from the single doorstep outside her house.

She crosses her arms and pulls her shoulders together in a

gesture of fear. She looks once, despairingly, at the closed

door behind her �� and then reluctantly steps out into the

dirt road and starts walking.

EXT. CALDERON GROCERY - NIGHT

Only a large corner window, with the word. "Provisiones"

printed on it shows that this ordinary house is a grocery

store. In the moonlight, one can see a few boxes of groceries

stacked on shelves inside. Teresa comes up to the window and

peers in. She knocks on the window.

TERESA:

Senora Calderon It is Teresa,

Senor. Teresa Delgado.

Over Teresa's shoulder, we see the interior of the little

store light up dimly as a curtain is pulled at the back of

the room. Beyond the curtain is revealed another room,

brightly lit by a bare electric globe hanging from the

ceiling on a cord. Under the light, a man sits at a table,

heartily eating from a plate heaped with food. The curtain

has been pulled back by Senora Calderon. We see her only in

silhouette and the details of her face and figure are

indistinguishable. We do see, however, that her long black

hair is down her back and she is braiding it. She walks a

little ways into the darkened store.

SRA. CALDERON

(speaking loudly to be

heard through the window)

The store is closed.

TERESA:

I just want a sack of corn meal for

my father's supper!

SRA. CALDERON

Tomorrow.

TERESA:

(imploringly)

It'll just take a second. ..Please

��or I must go clear across the

Arroyo to the big grocery --

Teresa taps against the window hopefully. But Sra. Calderon

turns back toward the doorway into the inner room, where the

solitary feaster hasn't even bothered to look up during this

exchange.

SRA. CALDERON

(as she goes)

It means taking off the lock again,

putting on the light, measuring the

meal. It's too much trouble. Once I

close, I close!

Sm. Calderon steps into the inner room and draws the curtain

closed behind her, as she speaks the last words. Again the

store is in darkness -- only a rim of light showing around

the edges of the curtained doorway.

TERESA:

(quietly � hopelessly)

Senora...

There is no reply. Teresa turns away.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. EDGE OF ARROYO - NIGHT

The Arroyo is a deep narrow cut in the mesa, bone�dry in this

season. Its floor of bleached sand and weeds stretches

desolately wider a vast moonlit sky. Here and there,

children's feet have scuffed steep little trails down the

banks.

Teresa appears at the top of one of these trails. She looks

down into the Arroyo -- and then off to the right.

A distance down the Arroyo is a bridge which carries a train

track across the dry river bed. To divert the rush of rain

water in winter and spring, the bridge is underpropped by two

slanting stone piers. They stand out like ribs against the

blackness of the underpass, which they divide into three

tunnels.

Teresa's face shows her dread of the Arroyo. She turns back

the way she came, takes a step away, hesitates and then

returns to the edge of the bank.

She starts down the little trail, her feet sliding in the

loose sand and a shower of pebbles bouncing down ahead of

her.

EXT.ARROYO FLOOR � NIGHT

Teresa stands at the bottom of the bank. She looks off to the

bridge again. Then she starts walking forward slowly, a very

little figure in the large loneliness of the night.

EXT. EAST SIDE OF BRIDGE - NIGHT

Teresa comes up to the face of the underpass with its three

openings. She stares from one black tunnel mouth to another.

She glances behind her, then looks at the underpass again.

Teresa goes forward again, toward the middle tunnel.

EXT. EAST ENTRANCE OF MIDDLE TUNNEL - NIGHT

The roof of the underpass is only a little higher than

Teresa's head and the passage is not more than ten feet wide.

The opening is dimly lit by the moonlight, but beyond it is

dense blackness. Teresa enters slowly. She takes a few steps

toward the blackness �- and stops. She listens. Teresa moves

forward again, walking as lightly as possible. The light dims

rapidly, so that after Teresa has taken a half dozen steps,

she is swallowed up in complete blackness.

The CAMERA HOLDS for a moment on the dark underpass before

Teresa emerges from the blackness on the West side. A light

scratching sound is heard. Teresa's eyes widen in panic as

she hears it and she hurries out of the tunnel, watching

fearfully ever her left shoulder. She must cut across in

front of this other tunnel in order to get to the south bank.

She starts across, never taking her eyes off the black tunnel

mouth. Suddenly she gives a convulsive start and a little cry

escapes before she can control it. A shadowy shape, low to

the ground, detaches itself from the dimness of the tunnel

opening and moves toward her. Almost at once, we see that it

is a large tumbleweed, blowing clown the Arroyo in the wind.

Teresa sighs soundlessly and goes on to the foot of the bank.

She starts scrambling up another steep little path.

DISSOLVE:

INT. BIG GROCERY STOPE - NIGHT

This is a fairly good�sized room, lined with shelves and

counters. A tall, Indian-type Mexican with iron-grey hair

puts a paper sack of cornmeal on the counter in front of

Teresa.

She starts toward the door, but noticing a bronze cage with

two toy birds in it, a mechanical device which has stood

there for years, she goes toward it, puts down her sack of

corn meal and goes up close.

TERESA:

Oh, the toy birds!

MANUEL:

You've seen them before. I couldn't

chase you away from the counter

when you were a little girl.

She winds up the bird cage.

TERESA:

I'd forgotten them.

MANUEL:

(smiling, goodhumoredly,

skeptical)

Every day you see them --and you

have forgotten them? Oh, I remember

my little Teresita -- I remember

the little girl who was afraid of

the dark. They shouldn't send you.

The birds have begun to sing,a highly mechanical rendering of

a bird song.

TERESA:

I'm not afraid. What could happen

to me?

The birds sing and she pretends to listen. Manuel leans

against the inner door of the grocery watching her, smiling

and amused. Finally his smiling irks her into action. She

picks up her sack of corn meal.

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