Traveler Page #3

But when he looks back HE REALIZES WILL ISN'T THERE.

The guys weave through a row of sculpture. And pass a

SECURITY GUARD. Halfway down, suddenly...

A BLARING FIRE ALARM GOES OFF.

And things get hectic. Patrons start rushing for the door.

13.

Jay and Taylor must dodge and weave through the crowd. What

started out as fun has crossed the line of insanity.

Ceiling mounted security cameras track their movements.

Another SECURITY GUARD blocks the ramp exit. Taylor and Jay

have to LEAF A LOW WALL to avoid him!

They land on the lobby floor. They push through the crowds

heading for the door. The security guards pursue.

Jay and Taylor reach the doors first. They barrel through and

explode out on to Fifth Avenue.

SECURITY GUARD 2

Stop!!! Stop those two!!!

The Guards give chase down Fifth Avenue. But two middle-aged

men on foot are no match for two guys on rollerblades. The

Guards finally pull up, out of breath.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK - RESERVOIR GATE HOUSE

Taylor and Jay stop at the small stone building on the south

end of the reservoir. Joggers run by, hardly noticing them.

They look at each other, catching their breath. They break

into a wide grin.

TAYLOR:

Huh? Huh?!

JAY:

Not bad.

TAYLOR:

Not bad? Skydiving won't get you a

rush like that!

They sit and take off their rollerblades.

JAY:

It's not over yet,

TAYLOR:

He'll be all right. Will's the best

skater out of all of us.

JAY:

I didn't see him on the ramp. You?

Taylor looks in the direction of the Guggenheim. Even from

here, they can still hear the FIRE ALARM blaring.

14,

TAYLOR:

Try his cell phone.

Jay pulls out his cell and makes the call. We hear it RING

and then CLICK as someone answers.

WILL'S VOICE

(a hurried voice)

Did you get out?

JAY:

Will?

WILL'S VOICE

Did you get out?

JAY:

Yeah. We're in the Park. Where are

you?

A long beat of silence.

WILL'S VOICE

I'm sorry I had to do this.

JAY:

Do what?

And then...

KA-BOOM!!J

Beyond the tree line, in the direction of the Guggenheim, a_

massive fireball erupts into the sky.

JAY (cont'd)

Will? Will?

But the line is dead. Not even static on the other end.

END ACT ONE:

15.

ACT TWO:

INT. ESSEX HOUSE HOTEL - EXECUTIVE SUITE - PRESENT DAY

The hotel room from the opening. Jay puts the copy of ON THE

ROAD into his framepack. Taylor emerges from Will's room.

TAYLOR:

It's gone.

JAY:

What?

TAYLOR:

Everything. All of his stuff.

Jay drops his bag and rushes over to

WILL'S BEDROOM

The room is spotless. Bed made. Curtains drawn. Goddamn

immaculate. The TV plays NEWS FOOTAGE from the Guggenheim.

—Jay drops to the floor, looks beneath the bed. Nothing.

—A closet door slides open. Empty hangars.

—The bathroom is clean. Hotel toiletries untouched.

TAYLOR (cont'd)

I told you the room's empty. He's

gone, Jay.

Taylor gives Jay a look that says "it's just us now."

JAY:

At least we know Will's alive.

TAYLOR:

Do we? There's no way he could have

beaten us back here from the

museum.

(sees something on TV)

Oh man...

The NEWS FOOTAGE now shows a GRAINY SECURITY CAMERA IMAGE of

two men fleeing the Guggenheim.

NEWSCASTER:

Still no report of casualties. But

Police have released this image

from Guggenheim security.

(MORE)

16.

NEWSCASTER (cont'd)

It clearly shows two men fleeing

the museum while guards pursue...

THE FOOTAGE FREEZES AND ZOOMS in on the men. Despite the low

resolution, IT'S CLEARLY JAY AND TAYLOR.

NEWSCASTER (cont'd)

The unidentified men are believed

to be Caucasian and in their late

twenties to early thirties.

Authorities ask anyone with

information about these men to call

the terrorism hotline at...

Behind them, their images are now frozen on screen. Taylor

rushes back to

THE LIVING ROOM:

He grabs his bag and pulls on a thin cashmere sweater.

JAY:

What are you doing?

TAYLOR JAY *

My dad has a great lawyer *

downtown. Maybe we can get to *

him— We've got a lawyer right *

here. *

A real lawyer— *

I am a REAL lawyer. *

TAYLOR:

Then stop pretending this isn't

happening, Jay! Will apologized

right before the museum exploded.

By the time we got back to the

room, his stuff's gone and our

faces are on TV.

JAY:

What are you trying to say? You

think Will framed us for this?

Taylor wants to say yes, but he can't.

JAY (cont'd)

Taylor, in law you need two things

to establish guilt. Evidence and

motive. There's no reason our best

friend, the guy we lived with for

two years, would do this.

17.

TAYLOR:

Well, I'd be happy to ask him what

he was thinking, but he's gone!

JAY:

Then we'11 call the cops and let

them look for him.

(locking eyes with Taylor)

This is Will we're talking about.

We can't just give up on him.

Jay picks up the phone. Taylor looks to the TV. TIGHT ON: the

frozen close-up of Jay and Taylor.

MATCH CUT TO:

INT. NEW YORK FBI FIELD OFFICE - DAY

The same news coverage now plays on a small TV. The TV sits

on a desk in a sea of cubicles. Dozens of JUNIOR AGENTS and

DISPATCHERS answer tip calls. A chaotic symphony of voices.

TITLE CARD:
HEW YORK CITY FBI FIELD OFFICE

A large agent, SPECIAL AGENT MAURICIO BORJES (34, Dominican

by birth, American by nature), strides down the hall.

BORJES:

Kenny, you seen Naj?

A YOUNG AGENT talking on a phone looks up and shakes his

head. Agent Borjes curses silently and stalks off.

INT. COMMERCIAL BATHROOM - DAY

The glistening tip of a hypodermic needle. A finger taps the

syringe. Hands pinch flesh. The needle finds a home.

WIDER REVEALS:
We're in a bathroom stall. An attractive woman

in her 40s shoots up into her thigh. This is FBI AGENT JAN

"NAJ" MARLOW. She grimaces and withdraws the needle.

BAM! The sound of the bathroom door opening startles her.

BORJES'S VOICE

Yo, Naj! You in here?

MARLOW:

(regaining her senses)

Yeah.. What's up?

BORJES'S VOICE

A-SAC wants us on a phone call.

18.

MARLOW:

One minute.

OUTSIDE THE STALL

Borjes listens to Marlow's labored breathing.

BORJES:

They need us now. You okay?

Borjes waits a long beat. We can read the concern on his

face.

MARLOW (O.S.)

I'll be there, Mo!

He finally leaves. In the stall, Marlow wraps the needle in

tissue, exits the stall, and buries it deep in the trash.

INT. NEW YORK CITY FBI FIELD OFFICE - CONT.

Agent Marlow hurries down a hall and passes the bullpen of

cubicles. This office lacks the slick look of a TV show set.

It's a government funded old school workplace. Marlow arrives

at a door labeled "DOMESTIC TERRORISM," and enters

THE SIT ROOM:

One wall is a bank of video monitors. Another is an enormous

white board. In the center, Borjes and eight MALE AGENTS sit

at a conference table. SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE FRED CHAMBERS

(55, one grain of salt from a heart attack) talks into a

speakerphone. He glances up, pissed, as Marlow enters.

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