Wes Craven’s Page #4

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The telephone RINGS again. Heather snatches it up.

HEATHER:

Leave us alone, you creep!

VOICE (FILTER)

(beat)

LA Limousine, ma'am. Just wanted you to

know I'm out front.

Julie looks at her with surprise. Heather walks to the front

door and checks.

EXT. HEATHER'S POV THE STREET

A BLACK LIMO idles in the driveway.

INT. KITCHEN/FRONT DOOR

HEATHER:

Uh, sorry. Hang on a minute.

HEATHER closes the door, returns to the kitchen and hangs up

the phone.

JULIE:

Heather, what is it?

HEATHER:

(low)

Dunno. Just have this feeling today...

She bites her lip, then Dylan speaks, soberly, quietly.

DYLAN:

Mommy stay home, then.

He turns and walks into his room. Julie looks at Heather.

JULIE:

He'll be fine, don't worry.

She goes in the bedroom after Dylan. Heater takes a long

breath...then grabs the phone and dials.

MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)

Studio B.

HEATHER:

Hi. This is Heather Langenkamp.

MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)

The car's no there yet?

HEATHER:

No. I...listen, I can't make it in

today.

MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)

(beat)

You're kidding, right?

Heather shakes her head.

HEATHER:

I'm sorry, I can't.

MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)

Listen, dammit.

HEATHER:

I just can't.

She hangs up. Starts for Dylan's room, then the PHONE RINGS.

Heather comes back and picks it up, fully expecting it to be

the studio and dreading it.

HEATHER (cont'd)

Yes?

She reacts, realizing too late she's listening to the HISS OF

STEAM.

VOICE (FILTER)

One two...

She slams the phone down. Stares at the thing like it was a

snake. It RINGS AGAIN. She hesitates. Picks it up finally.

Holds it at a distance for a moment. Then puts it to her

ear.

HEATHER:

Hello?

VOICE (FILTER)

Freddy's coming for yooooouuuu.

She recoils and slams it down! Turns and kicks a chair.

CRASH! Senses someone behind her and whirls to see Julie

standing in Dylan's doorway.

JULIE:

What is it, Heather?

Heather blinks.

HEATHER:

Damn caller.

Julie crosses to her, lowering her voice so Dylan can't hear.

JULIE:

He's started again?

Heather just nods.

JULIE (cont'd)

Sick bastard

(puts her hand over her mouth)

Sorry.

(brighter)

Dylan. He doesn't have a fever like you

thought. Probably just your nerves.

Heather gives her a funny look.

HEATHER:

Nerves?

Julie blushes.

JULIE:

I just meant form the shaker this

morning. I mean, everyone's freaked out

at how many we've been having. Then the

calls.

Heather starts to say something, then the PHONE RINGS again.

She snatches it up and shouts.

HEATHER:

Stop calling me, you sonuvabitch!

VOICE #2 (FILTER)

(beat)

You talk to your agent this way?

(Heather blanches)

And you try to cancel an appearance on

AM/LA at the last damn minute. What the

hell's with you?

Heather sags in dismay.

HEATHER:

I'm sorry, Jerry. I just...can't leave

the house right now.

JERRY (FILTER)

What, you wanna single-handedly bury your

career?! Lose your house, put your

husband and kid out on the street? Or

just give your old agent a heart attack?

Heather slumps.

HEATHER:

Okay, fine, I'll be there. It's just,

the calls started again.

Jerry switches to his commiserative voice.

JERRY (FILTER)

Unfortunately, this kinda crap is part of

the business these days, Heather. Have

you thought of buying a good handgun?

HEATHER:

I've got a five-year old in the house,

Jerry!

JERRY (FILTER)

He's an L.A. kid, probably already has

one.

(laughs)

Call me after the interview, okay?

And he hangs up. Heather looks, sees Dylan staring at her

from his doorway.

HEATHER:

Dylan, I gotta go. Forgive me?

DYLAN:

Bye.

She crosses and gives him a big hug. We see his face over

her shoulder. Lost.

EXT. THE HOUSE - DAY

Heather and Julie exit an attractive house in an affluent

neighborhood.

JULIE:

I'll call the cops for you. You've got

the number on the fridge, right?

HEATHER:

Thanks. Just give them the time he

called. They're keeping a list,

supposedly.

(gives a hug)

Sorry. My nerves are so raw these days.

JULIE:

'S okay.

Julie gives a wave as Heather heads down the walk.

CLOSER ON HEATHER

now eyeing the dark car in the drive, slowing as she sees.

The DRIVER, waiting, holding the back door. A big man, faced

away, head distinctively bald. It could almost be...Freddy.

He turns. It's just a driver, pale-faced and antsy. Heather

gets in.

INT. LIMO/EXT. TV STUDIO - MOVING - DAY

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