Unbreakable Page #4

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Elijah's expression becomes tense as his compartment spins. His hands slide over

the rusted metal bar as the sweater unravels.

Elijah looks around... a sudden panic enters his eyes.

THE BLURRING IMAGE OF HIS MOTHER NOW IN A GROUP OF RED AND WHITE STRIPED MEN.

THE SOUND OF MACHINERY GRINDING IS HEARD as the ride changes directions

suddenly.

Elijah's hands rip away from the bar as he gets thrown to the side of the

compartment. His shoulder and arm takes the brunt of the impact. WE HEAR

SOMETHING CRACK.

TEENAGERS SCREAM IN EXCITEMENT. ELIJAH JOINS THEM WITH SCREAMS OF HIS OWN.

The ride spins its passengers. Elijah's small face looks up at the swirling

clouds in a mixture of agony and terror.

The ride changes directions.

Elijah is thrust forward. He hits the rusted metal bar square against his chest.

WE HEAR MORE CRACKS.

The world spins. Giggles and yells fill the air. Elijah slumps down onto the

floor of the compartment.

And then finally, the grind of the machinery slows and then comes to a gradual

stop.

THE TEENAGERS MOAN.

Elijah is facing directly up at the sky. The clouds now move slowly over him.

WE HEAR COMMOTION. AGITATED VOICES. HIS MOTHER'S DESPERATE VOICE.

MOTHER(o.s.)

His bones... He's not

well...

HER VOICE GETS LOUDER AS SHE MOVES CLOSER TO THE PLATFORM.

MOTHER(o.s.)

Elijah baby...

Then her face appears as she finds the cup-like seat Elijah is in. She begins to

scream.

Elijah lays on the bottom of the compartment. One arm is clutching his chest. The

other is curved horrifically like an "s". His mouth is open. His eyes are

bulging. The last thing we HERE ARE THE SHORT DESPERATE BREATHS of an eight year

old child about to black out from the pain.

FADE TO BLACK:

PRESENT:
EXT. CHURCH - AFTERNOON

WE EMERGE FROM BLACK to find news vans and reporters lining the street across

from a church. They have been cordoned off by a handful of police. Mourners are

recorded as they emerge from their cars and enter the church.

David is among the arriving crowd.

MAN(o.s.)

David Dunne!

At hearing his name, David turns back as he walks. He can't tell which reporter

called his name because all of them seem to react. A storm of camera movement as

the group jockeys for the best angle of his troubled face.

David passes a magnetic board as he enters the church. It reads, "Services for

the families and friends of train 177."

CUT TO:

INT. CHURCH - AFTERNOON

A PRIEST stands before a podium.

PRIEST:

Sarah Elaston, social worker

at Broad and Locust

Community Center. We pray

for your soul.

(beat)

Kevin Elliott, business man,

father of six. We pray for

your soul.

(beat)

Glen Stevens, researcher in

the area of Leukemia at

Drexel University. We pray

for your soul.

David sits amongst the mourners in the standing room only church. His eyes drift

to a woman two rows ahead of him. She's turned around, looking at him. Her eyes

are red from crying.

David looks away. His eyes stop on an old man far to his left just a few seats

away. Father, mother and daughter stare silently.

David surveys the entire church... Desperate inconsolable eyes question his

existence from every direction.

David has to look down.

PRIEST:

...Jennifer Pennyman, third

grade teacher at Jefferson

Elementary.

(beat)

We pray for your soul.

CUT TO:

INT. BACK OF CHURCH - AFTERNOON

David and the priest who conducted the mass are alone in the mass preparation

room. The priest looks in his fifties, eyes tired, blood shot.

DAVID:

I used to play football in

college. In my first year as

quarterback, we went on this

winning streak. It just went

on and on. It didn't matter

who we played... I'd always

win.

(beat)

You get superstitious when

something like that happens.

You give things meaning.

Like you wear the same color

socks each game or you

listen to the same B.B. King

song before you leave the

apartment. I wouldn't even

untie the shoelaces on my

cleats. I'd just slip them

on and off so nothing would

change... I gave things

meaning that had no meaning.

(beat)

I'm here to make sure I'm

not making shoelaces into

something they're not again.

(beat)

I was the only person to

survive that accident. The

only one... It feels like it

means something.

Beat.

PRIEST:

Are you a religious man,

David?

David nods, "No."

The priest removes the sacred stoll from his around his neck and kisses it before

folding it carefully.

PRIEST:

Good. Because I'm going to

talk to you as a man. Not as

a man of the cloth.

DAVID:

Okay.

Beat. The priest turns to David.

PRIEST:

It was luck.

Beat.

DAVID:

What do you mean?

PRIEST:

Luck... Random... Without

meaning.

David just sits awkwardly.

PRIEST:

Three years ago, my cousin

died on a plane that crashed

on take off at Philadelphia

International airport. Do

you remember that crash?

David nods, "Yes."

PRIEST:

I prayed and prayed and

finally found some meaning

in the event. It gave me

peace... And then not quite

a year later, an entire

family from my parish burned

to death in a hotel fire

downtown...

(beat)

Again I prayed. Again I

found meaning.

(beat)

Just two days ago, my nephew

rode with you on that train

back from New York. He was

traveling alone for the

first time.

PRIEST:

I'm sorry if I can't react

to your survival with the

appropriate 'It was the hand

of God. It was a miracle.'

kind of answer... I'm fresh

out of those right now.

David is shaken. Beat.

DAVID(soft)

The metal of the watch I was

wearing was crushed like a

sledge hammer hit it.

Beat. The priest's eyes fill with emotion.

PRIEST:

My twelve year old nephew's

neck was broken in four

places... What's your point?

You were chosen?

(beat)

I don't think so.

The priest turns and continues putting away artifacts from the mass. Silence

fills the back room.

CUT TO:

INT. CHURCH PARKING LOT - LATE AFTERNOON

No cameras greet his exit. No people anywhere.

David walks across the now empty parking lot. His car is the only one left.

He walks to the driver's side. Pulls out his keys. That's as far as he gets.

His eyes catch sight of the GRAY ENVELOPE tucked under the windshield wiper of

his car.

David moves forward and gently pulls it out. His name is typed on the front. He

turns it over. Two embossed words on the back.

"Limited Edition"

He opens the envelope. One line, handwritten, gazes at him from the gray index

card.

The line reads...

"How many days of your life have you been sick?"

Nothing else is written.

David Dunne looks around the empty parking lot quietly.

CUT TO:

INT. EMPLOYEE LOCKER ROOM - MORNING

A poorly lit changing room. A row of metallic lockers sits against one wall. A

bench splits the room. A brown folding table with Dunkin Donuts boxes and bagels

on it is crammed in the corner. A puke colored concrete floor sets the tone.

David and three other large men are changing out of their street clothes. They

all put on the same yellow short sleeve shirts. The same two words are written on

all their backs...

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