Zerophilia

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FADE IN:

EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT

Mist. Dark trees. Dripping vines. An ENGINE RUMBLES in the

distance.

The full moon shimmers on a puddle. A FROG SPLATS IN,

splashing a one man pup tent.

INSIDE THE TENT:

LUKE's eyes pop open, disoriented, realizing he's fallen

asleep reading by flashlight. He's nineteen, still slightly

awkward and unaware he's growing handsome.

He listens as the ENGINE RUMBLES LOUDER, closer.

He peers out through the tent flap. Glaring head lamps ROAR

toward him. Scrambling out of his sleeping bag, he HURLS

himself against the side of the tent, as...

OUTSIDE:

an RV CAMPER nearly plows down the tent, skidding to a stop

in the mud.

Stillness.

Luke extricates himself from the tent. He runs to the driver-

side window of the RV.

LUKE:

Are you all right?

Inside, ALEXA, thirties, earthy, looks up at him bleary-eyed.

She nods 'yes.'

LUKE (CONT'D)

How did you even get here? There's

no road.

ALEXA:

I'm sorry. I'm from Utah.

LUKE:

It's okay.

ALEXA:

Are you alone out here?

2.

He nods 'yes.' She bursts into TEARS.

ALEXA (CONT'D)

My husband. Bastard. I've been

driving for days. I don't even

know where I'm going.

LUKE:

Oh, wow. I'm really sorry.

She gathers herself, sniffling.

I have warm apple kringel in the

camper. Would you like some?

LUKE:

Uh, what is it?

ALEXA:

Pastry.

INSIDE RV CAMPER

Luke stands at the RV's tiny kitchen counter, wolfing pastry

off a paper plate.

ALEXA:

So, this "Survival Quest" is your

vacation?

LUKE:

Yeah. It's my third try. Kind a'

lame, huh?

ALEXA:

No. Seven days alone in the

wilderness? I'd be afraid.

LUKE:

It's just something I really wanted

to do.

Luke notices an odd pile of stuff by the sink.

ALEXA:

His shoes. Fishing lures. The

electric drill.

LUKE:

Good.

3.

She smiles, grateful, eyeing his torn t-shirt and shorts.

ALEXA:

You’re all wet and muddy. Why

don’t I hang those up to dry?

LUKE:

Thanks. I’m okay.

ALEXA:

I’m propositioning you.

LUKE:

Oh...

Oh, wow.

You are?

He considers, fearful, but thrilled.

EXT. LANGFORD UNIVERSITY - MORNING

Students crisscross on bikes in front of the quadrangle.

The huge round headlights and muscular front grill of an old

SEMI-TRUCK RUMBLES up to the curb. It's the cab only, like

the sliced-off front of a train engine.

Luke hops down, startling his friends, KEENAN and JANINE,

passionately making out on the sidewalk.

Twenty, brainy and athletic, Janine adjusts her glasses, the

only remnant of a bookish past, as she thoughtfully considers

Luke's massive truck.

JANINE:

It's remarkable. Sort of retro. I

thought you were gettin' a pickup?

LUKE:

I changed my mind.

Hoping for a more enthusiastic response, he turns to Keenan,

who climbs up and peeks inside the cab. He's rugged,

streetwise, perpetually bemused, -maybe Ed Norton and Bill

Murray had a son...

KEENAN:

It's awesome. It's pleather.

LUKE:

F*** you. You think it's stupid.

4.

Janine stares at him.

LUKE (CONT'D)

What?

She shrugs, trying to put her finger on it, and when Luke

rolls up his T-shirt sleeves, she grins.

LUKE (CONT'D)

What?!

JANINE:

Oh my God. You got laid.

Finally! Who is she?

Luke glares at Keenan.

KEENAN:

I didn't say a word! I swear! You

know Janine. She's got X-ray

vision.

(to Janine)

Camping! A total stranger.

JANINE:

I knew that whole "waitin' to meet

the right girl" thing was crap.

Congratulations! I have to get to

Physics. The truck's great.

KEENAN:

See ya', hottie.

JANINE:

Could find something to call me,

other than what every guy in the

world would say?

KEENAN:

"Sweetheart?" "Babe?"

"Aphrodite?"

Janine sneers. At a loss, Keenan grabs her and kisses her

passionately.

She walks off rolling her eyes, but secretly loves it.

Keenan climbs up into the cab.

KEENAN (CONT'D)

So this is gonna' be like your car?

5.

LUKE:

Look, I know it's dopey. But don't

you recognize it? It's painted and

the muffler's switched out, -but

this was my dad's.

Keenan looks around with fresh eyes. He reaches an arm way

up under the glove box and GRINS, pulling out a small stash

of weed.

KEENAN:

Ten years. A little dried out.

EXT. COUNTRY HIGHWAY - DAY

The truck barrels along through the trees. Luke and Keenan

share a joint.

LUKE:

First off, that woman. We didn't

go all the way, you know?

KEENAN:

Yeah? Okay, so?

LUKE:

You think technically I'm still a

virgin?

KEENAN:

Were you inside her?

LUKE:

Yeah.

KEENAN:

It counts. Next. ...What?

LUKE:

I been havin' this weird dream.

The thing is, I think maybe the

dream's real. Forget it. No way

I'm tellin' you.

KEENAN:

You know enough of my secrets to

get me shot. Sharon's mom on

Thanksgiving? What the f*** dream

is there you can't tell me?

6.

LUKE:

It's about part of me gettin'

smaller. An important part.

Keenan looks over warily, then busts out LAUGHING, then

realizes Luke's serious.

KEENAN:

You have gotta' be f***in' kiddin'

me. You're not thirteen!

LUKE:

Screw you. Maybe I caught

something.

KEENAN:

I think it's good you bought this

truck.

They both LAUGH.

INT. ROAD RAGE GARAGE - DAY

A small, run-down service garage, crammed with tires, tools

and discarded car parts.

Luke’s truck idles in the service bay, billowing smoke.

MAX, nineteen, lean, in overalls, with shoulder-length hair

and edgy eyes, wipes his greasy hands on a rag.

Dripping with masculinity, he swaggers around the truck,

chewing gum, wielding a pneumatic torque-wrench, which he

occasionally REVS for emphasis.

MAX:

I can do the gasket for twenty

bucks.

thing?

But new T-sprocks, for this

Two, three hundred, maybe?

LUKE:

Sh*t. Can I hold off on that?

MAX:

No skin off my ass. But a few

days, weeks, your whole

transmission could blow.

LUKE:

Ah, Jeez. I shouldn't got this.

7.

Max considers, sets his baseball cap on the truck fender and

SIGHS.

MAX:

Four hundred seventy-five

horsepower. Twenty-eight inch

wheels. It's a classic. Let me

dig around out back. Maybe we got

a used set.

LUKE:

That’d be great. Thanks.

Max disappears through a squeaky door at the back.

Luke picks up a rag and wipes fingerprints off the fender.

He sits, impatient for Max to return.

He examines Max's cap, tries it on. He picks up the torque-

wrench, swaggers about, trying to look macho, in the manner

of Max.

He spins around and REVS the wrench, catching sight of

MICHELLE, twenty, watching him from out front in jeans and T-

shirt, with warm, confident eyes.

Luke swallows, wide-eyed, a deer in headlights. He sets

down the torque-wrench.

LUKE (CONT'D)

It's not my wrench. It's my truck.

MICHELLE:

What's wrong with it?

LUKE:

Oh, just needs a new gasket and a

couple T-sprocks. The flanges are

sheared off. No big deal.

MICHELLE:

You have to watch my brother, Max.

He's sellin' you "T-sprocks?"

LUKE:

Yeah?

MICHELLE:

There's no such thing. Last week

he sold Mrs. Gustafson a whole set:

six hundred bucks. My name's

Michelle.

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