Unbroken Page #7

96

WIDE ANGLE - The tiny rafts carrying three men surrounded 96

by the debris of the crash, alone in the vast ocean.

97

EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY 97

Louie has a raft pocket open and is taking an inventory of

the supplies:
Hershey chocolate bars, half pint tins of

water, a brass mirror, a flare gun, sea dye, fish hooks,

fishing line, air pumps, raft patch kits. A set of pliers

with a screwdriver in the handle.

Mac is pressing his shirt on Phil’s wound. He watches Louie

but doesn’t speak. He’s in shock.

Suddenly-

MAC:

Glassman didn’t make it.

(beat)

Cup didn’t make it-

LOUIE:

Don’t think about it.

MAC:

We’re gonna die.

LOUIE:

No we’re not!

MAC:

They don’t know where we are.

LOUIE:

They’ll find us...

MAC:

(in panic)

They’ll never see us.

LOUIE:

Shut up, Mac!

MAC:

We’re going to die and you damn

well know it!

LOUIE:

We’re not dying. Shut up.

Louie carefully divides the six chocolate bars into small

segments. He reads the instructions on the packet.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

One square in the morning. One

square at night.

He gives a tin of water to Mac.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

Two or three sips a day.

A murmur from Phil. Louie looks at him.

PHIL:

Louie. . .

LOUIE:

Yeah Phil.

PHIL:

I’m glad it’s you.

LOUIE:

I’m glad it’s me too.

99 EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - NIGHT 9EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - NIGHT 99

The three men lying in the raft.

The raft peacefully bobs. Louie still holds the compress to

Phil’s head. Phil’s eyes are shut: sleeping.

A thunk.

Louie tenses.

Mac is panicky:

MAC:

What was that?

A quiet beat as both men wait, listening.

Another thunk, and the raft jostles.

Hands on gunwhales, Louie looks carefully over the edge.

Dark water. Hard to see. But a dark shape retreats just

under the surface of the water.

Louie’s eyes track it away until it is lost. His look holds

out. Then his look tracks something back in:

The dark shape, returning.

As it disappears under the boat, it bumps its underside

again.

We fade as he closes his eyes. Under the fade, one last

fading-away thunk. . .

100

IN BLACK - DAY #2 100

A high-pitched whining sound.

CLOSE ON LOUIE:

Eyes popping open.

It is a bald day.

The whining noise is distinguishable as engine noise.

Louie bolts to a sitting position, looking up.

Blue sky. Far above, a moving dot. A plane.

LOUIE:

Hey!

He scrambles to his feet.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

. . . Hey!

He waves:

LOUIE (CONT’D)

. . . Hey! Hey!

Struck by his own stupidity, he abandons arm-waving and

scrambles to open the provision pocket on the raft. He tosses

Mac the dye and he spills it into the water below.

Phil still sleeps.

Louie comes out with the flare gun.

He fires up at the dot in the sky. Phil awakens to the sound.

Louie, a holding look, gun at his side, staring up.

The plane’s gnat-noise drones on, its course unchanged.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

. . . Damnit! Down here!

Another pop of the flare gun. Both Mac and Louie waving.

But the drone is perceptibly less loud now; the plane is

going away. Louie throws the gun down.

53

Mac turns away, looking out to sea.

Louie comes up short, looking:

Where he has just flung the flare gun, at his feet-- littered

wrappers.

He hunches and picks up a torn piece of paper. Printing is

on its slick outside.

Louie stares at the chocolate wrapper. He looks up.

Mac, his back to us, motionless, resolutely looking out.

Louie. He squats and does a panicky paw through the

provision pocket. More wrappers. No chocolate. Straightens

again.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

. . . Mac. Mac!

His back. No reaction.

Louie takes a step forward.

LOUIE (CONT’D)

What did you do?

Mac can’t reply. He looks away, out to sea.

On his back we hear:

MAC:

It doesn’t matter.

Louie is too shocked to be angry. His tone is almost

childlike:

LOUIE:

Doesn’t matter?

Mac looks so pathetic and helpless. Louie wants to hit him,

but looks to Phil and decides not to make it worse.

Instead, he checks the tins of water. Untouched. Louie sits

back down. Now what?

They sit in silence.

101

EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY #3 101

Bright day.

The three men wear their shirts like hooded capes, protecting

themselves as best they can from the sun.

Reality has set in. They will most likely die here. Mac

breaks down crying. No one moves or says a word.

FADE OUT:

102

OMITTED 102

103 OMITTED 103

104 Later-DAY #9 104

We find the men a week later-

Phil:
dozing, protected as much as he can be by his shirt,

but he is red-skinnned, lip-chapped.

Mac is much worse off from the exposure, skin blistered, lips

swollen, face peeling.

Suddenly a look from Mac, reacting to:

Louie. The little mirror is set next to him, pointing up at

the sky. The circle of the mirror is a glaring hot spot.

Louie’s POV - the bright sun washing out the image of the

albatross flying above.

An albatross is just settling-- sitting on the lip of the

raft to investigate the bobbing, glaring glass.

Louie, just next to the bird, is frozen, tense.

The bird’s black eyes peering. Wings folding. Claws gripping.

Louie’s hand flashes to the bird, grabbing its leg.

LOUIE:

Okay!

55

Wild activity:
flapping, writhing, pecking. Phil closes on

it. He and Louie are a confusion of activity around the

bird. Louie snaps its neck.

The large bird is limp.

The men carefully set it down, cautiously withdrawing their

hands.

PHIL:

Okay.

Louie grabs the pliers.

Mac and Phil watch as Louie rips the bird open.

The men react to a stench from the opened bird. They

hesitate over the specimen.

PHIL (CONT’D)

I don’t know if I can do it.

Another beat.

Louie reaches in.

LOUIE:

We gotta try.

Louie passes some to Mac who hesitates, still feeling the

guilt of the chocolate.

105

EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - MINUTES LATER 105

The men dry-heaving.

They ease back into place, eyes watering. Taking sips of

water sparingly.

LOUIE:

We had to try.

Panting beat. Then Phil has an idea:

PHIL:

Know what?

He leans forward, to the provision pocket, and pulls out some

line.

PHIL (CONT’D)

. . . Maybe the fish won’t be as

picky.

106

EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY 106

The raft drifts in the vast ocean. Too far away to make out

detail, but we hear a sudden cry LOUIE

Got it!

107

EXT. RAFT, PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY 107

A pilot fish dangles on the end of Louie’s line-- ten inches

of live food. Louie gets the hook out, kills the fish, takes

a bite. Then he passes it along to the others. They don’t

like it, but they need it, so they eat.

PHIL:

This is how the Japs eat fish. Raw.

LOUIE:

If you ask me, it’s not food til

you cook it. A little garlic. A

little oil and lemon.

When we get home, you come ‘round

to my house. Mama’ll cook for you.

PHIL:

Remember the Eddie Rickenbacker

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