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DARRELL:

Hey there. I was beginnin' to think you

wasn't comin' back... You don't look so

good.

BOBBY:

Yeah, well, I've been around the bend a

bit.

DARRELL:

One of those days you feel like you been

runnin' in circles and you ain't no closer

to where you tryin' to get than when you

started?

BOBBY:

You've been there?

DARRELL:

Hell, I've had days I would gladly trade

with a whippin' dog. Ain't much you can do

when you feel like that 'cept tough it out.

BOBBY:

You believe that?

DARRELL:

You think bad, and bad is what you get.

BOBBY:

That's a good piece of advice, Darrell.

DARRELL:

No charge.

BOBBY:

Listen, Darrell, about that hundred-fifty

bucks for the car, as soon as I get where

I'm going I swear I'll--

DARRELL:

Two-hundred.

BOBBY:

What?

DARRELL:

It's going to cost you two-hundred dollars.

BOBBY:

You said this morning the hose was going to

run me one-fifty.

DARRELL:

Yep. For the hose. But while you was gone

I replaced a gasket. That's going to run

you another fifty.

BOBBY:

I didn't tell you to replace any gasket.

DARRELL:

Yeah, but it was shot.

BOBBY:

I don't give a f***! I didn't tell you to

do it! You can't just do unauthorized

work.

DARRELL:

Well, now, you just know all there is about

bein' a mechanic, don't you? Didn't you

read the sign.

BOBBY:

What sign?

DARRELL:

The goddamn sign on the wall. I can't do

unauthorized work? What am I suppose to

do? Just let you ride out of here with a

bad gasket. Then you get in an accident

and get killed. Or worse. Who they gonna

blame then? They gonna blame me, and there

goes my reputation.

BOBBY:

What reputation? You're nothing but an

ignorant, inbred, tumbleweed hick.

DARRELL:

Is that an insult? Are you insulting me.

BOBBY:

Listen you stupid f***, I want my car.

DARRELL:

Listen to me you sorry sonufabitch. You owe

me money, and this car ain't going nowheres

until I get it. And if you take another

five hours I'll find another fifty dollars

worth of work to do on it. Is that clear?

Now get out of here 'fore I call the

Sheriff, who knows me.

Bobby is in a rage. He turns to leave and walks a few paces.

He sees a WRENCH lying on a table. For a second his mind reels,

then he snatches up the wrench and turns ready to smash it down

on Darrell's head. He stops cold. Because ol' Darrell holds a

CROWBAR in a batter's stance ready to smash it onto the Mustang.

DARRELL:

You want to play, Mister? I'll play with

you. You want to smash something? So do

I.

Darrell pulls back the crowbar, ready to swing.

BOBBY:

No! Okay! Okay!

DARRELL:

What's the matter? The fight gone out of

you? I'm just gonna smash a headlight.

Maybe two.

BOBBY (pleading, almost crying)

Please, just leave the car alone!

DARRELL:

Mister, you already pissed me off but good.

Darrell lays the tip of the crowbar on the hood of the car, and

drags the tip of the bar across the hood leaving a long scratch.

BOBBY (about to lose it)

Goddamn you! You son of a b*tch!

DARRELL:

There you go, sweet talking me again.

Darrell begins to laugh. Bobby, desperate, looks to the trunk,

thinking of his gun in there.

His POV -- the trunk. A FLASHBACK of the GUN goes through his

mind.

BOBBY:

Look, Harlin.

DARRELL:

Darrell.

BOBBY:

Darrell. I'll get you your money. I just

have to get something out of the trunk.

Using his TRUNK KEY, he tries to open it but realizes the lock

has been changed.

BOBBY:

What the f*** did you do to my trunk?

DARRELL:

Well, that key's not gonna work. I had to

pop the lock. You didn't leave me the trunk

key.

BOBBY:

And you had to go into the trunk, didn't

you?

DARRELL:

When I work on a car, I work on a car.

BOBBY (snaps)

You motherf***er! (etc.)

DARRELL:

You can't help yourself, can you mister?

You're out of control.

Darrell starts to laugh. It is a repetitive, almost demonic

laugh that grows louder as the camera slowly dollies in on

Bobby's anguished face.

EXT. STREET - DAY

As BOBBY steps out into the glaring sun, he notices down at the

other end of the town, GRACE'S JEEP parked right outside the

SHERIFF'S OFFICE, empty.

Presently, GRACE and the SHERIFF walk out TALKING, and she gets

in, says a few last words and drives away.

Bobby backs around a corner into a sidestreet. Is she selling

him out? He's very confused, turbulent.

INT. BUS DEPOT - LATER DAY

BOBBY enters the BUS DEPOT. The interior is poorly lit. There

are a few benches for people to wait on, but they sit empty.

Old, faded travel posters hang on the wall. A bored FEMALE

CLERK is behind the counter.

BOBBY:

I need a ticket.

CLERK:

Where to?

BOBBY:

Out of here.

CLERK:

But, in particular?

BOBBY:

I ... Mexico. You got a bus that goes to

Mexico? That's where I have to go.

CLERK:

Mexico is a large country. Where in Mexico

would you like--

BOBBY:

I don't care, just get me there.

The clerk is a little put off by Bobby. He seems delirious. She

goes through her schedule looking for a bus.

CLERK:

How about Ciudad Juarez? You could take a

local, arrives in two hours, and transfer

in Albuquerque. It'll get you across the

border.

BOBBY:

How much?

CLERK:

One way, or round trip?

BOBBY:

One way.

CLERK:

30.55. Twenty more will get you back.

Bobby counts his money.

BOBBY:

Twenty-seven, fifty. That's all I got.

CLERK:

The ticket is 30.55.

BOBBY (rifling his pockets)

I bought a beer. That was a dollar

something. Then I gave that girl 25 cents

for the juke box. And the blind man...the

soda...I..I'd have 30 if...if...

CLERK:

I'm sorry, sir. It's $30.55 for the

ticket.

BOBBY (to himself)

Yeah. Just a little short. Figures. I

just wanted to get out, that's all.

Bobby starts to walk away. Suddenly he turns, runs back at the

clerk, proffers his money, half-crazed, near tears.

BOBBY:

Please, ma'am, you don't understand! I have

to get out of here. They're going to come

looking for me. They're going to kill me.

If I can't get this ticket then I'm going

to have to do things to get out of here.

You know what I mean! I don't want to hurt

anybody, I just want to leave. Please. I

can't...I can't.

He's so desperate and in her frightened but neutral expression,

Bobby experiences the only compassion he ever finds in this

whole town.

CLERK:

Okay, I'll give you the ticket, sir,

but...just...just, please calm down,

please!

her sane tone reminds Bobby of how far down he's come. He

shrinks, suddenly ashamed of himself. She takes the cash on the

counter, hands him a ticket.

CLERK:

Keep your change. Bus three-twenty-three.

Leaves at seven fifty two, tonight.

BOBBY:

I'm sorry. It's just ... you know ...

She nods, puts a "closed" sign in the ticket window, disappears.

EXT. BUS DEPOT - LATE DAY

We hear the crackle of the same POLICE RADIO again, OFF CAMERA,

as BOBBY walks out of the depot. ticket preciously held in his

hand, and suddenly reels as he sees SERGEI, about a 100 yards

down the main stretch, slowly rolling into town in his

convertible, looking for guess who.

BOBBY:

Holy sh*t!

INT. SERGEI'S CAR - SIMULTANEOUS

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