ARCTIC BLUE
by Ross LaManna
FADE IN:
1 EXT. BOREAL FOREST - ALASKA - (AERIAL SHOT) - DAY
Flying. Not at the intangible height of a jet, but at
spitting distance from the treetops. We're in central
Alaska, the Big Lonely, just north of the Arctic Circle.
A thick forest follows the contours of mountain foothills
like a deep-pile carpet. Up at treeline the forest thins to
tundra, a grassy scruff turning red and yellow with the
coming of autumn.
On the horizon, the hills rise to meet the Endicott
Mountains, a great fortress wall of granite so sharp and
jagged that snow cannot stick to its face. This is how all
North America once looked -- raw, indomitable.
Then, abruptly coming into the SCENE is a colossal etching
across the landscape too deliberate to be of natural origin.
Bisecting this country like a metallic ribbon -- or a scar,
depending on your point of view -- is the 800-mile-long
Trans-Alaskan Pipeline.
Even the immensity of the pipeline is rendered insignificant
by the vastness of the land. It goes on, and on, and on...
DISSOLVE TO:
A lone MAN walks along the Haul Road, a one-lane gravel
trail running parallel to the pipeline. The weather turns
sour -- rough wind and stinging snow cut across the man's
path.
DISSOLVE TO:
The man is ERIC DESMOND, twenty-four, clean-shaven,
determined. He's clearly out of place here, dressed in a
business suit and a light, camel-hair topcoat.
Eric is trying to follow some footprints in the snow -- a
predator's tracks, those of a wolf or coyote. But the
footprints ahead have faded, covered by the snow and wind.
DISSOLVE TO:
The weather becomes more oppressive. Heavy snow, gale winds
and sub-zero temperatures make his progress tortuous. Eric
strives stubbornly forward.
(CONTINUED)
1 CONTINUED:
DISSOLVE TO:
Eric has gathered some branches. He tries to make a fire.
Moisture from his breath has frozen in the upturned collar
of his insufficient coat, and his skin is split raw from the
cold.
His hands are too numb to hold the matches. After several
attempts at striking one, he slumps down next to the pile of
wood, exhausted and frustrated.
DISSOLVE TO:
The snow has covered the pile of branches. Eric still sits
next to it, partially covered in snow himself.
ERIC
His face is a death mask: eyes half-open and dull, lips a
purplish blue, bloodless skin crystallizing as it ices over.
The wind HOWLS around him. The snow sticks to his eyelashes
and hair without melting.
END DREAM
2 INT. DARK BEDROOM - NIGHT
Eric bolts up in bed. Next to him, ANNE MARIE GAUVIN sits
up and hugs him. All that can be seen of her in the dark is
a lovely silhouette and a cascade of dark hair. After a
moment, Eric kisses her. He shakes off the dream and lies
back down.
3 EXT. HAUL ROAD AND PIPELINE - CLOSE - DAY
A metal sign, peppered with shotgun holes, is posted near a
pipeline support piling:
PIPELINE UTILITY CORRIDOR
PRIVATE PROPERTY
NO TRESPASSING
NO HUNTING
NO TRAPPING
NO SHOOTING
WIDER
Eric walks quietly past the sign, intent on something ahead
of him. Although still somewhat boyish in appearance, he's
confident and resolute in attitude. His clothes have a
distinctly western feel: Lucchese boots, Levis 501's, Mahan
cotton shirt. His down parka is unzipped in the sunny,
windless, forty-degree afternoon.
(CONTINUED)
3 CONTINUED:
He pauses, then brings to his shoulder a rifle with a
four-power scope mounted atop it. He peers through the
scope.
HIS POV - THROUGH SCOPE
He puts the crosshairs on the shoulder flank of a big,
ivory-white timber wolf, fifty yards away.
BACK TO SCENE
Anne Marie stands beside Eric, a Nikon with a telephoto lens
in her hand, holding her breath in anticipation. She's
twenty-three, pretty, with soft features and piercing blue
eyes. She wears Eddie Bauer woman's gear like she was born
in it.
Eric expertly fixes his aim and slowly squeezes the trigger.
But instead of a loud retort, there is only the dull POP of
a CO2-powered dart gun.
NEW ANGLE
The tranquilizer dart finds its mark in the wolf's fleshy
shoulder. The wolf takes off running, but almost
immediately slows, sits, then lies down.
Eric and Anne Marie hurry over to the wolf, who is breathing
deeply. Eric kneels next to him and strokes his thick fur.
ERIC
What a beauty.
(to Anne Marie)
Hand me the transmitter.
Anne Marie passes to Eric a tiny, weatherproof homing device
attached to a steel collar band. Eric puts the collar
loosely around the wolf's neck and crimps it in place, all
the while TALKING soothingly to the semi-conscious animal.
Anne Marie smiles at Eric's tenderness and snaps some
photos.
With the collar in place and transmitter activated, Eric
backs away while the wolf tries to rouse itself from its
narcosis.
ERIC
(continuing)
He's coming around fine.
ANNE MARIE
Be right back. I left my
camcorder in the car.
(CONTINUED)
3 CONTINUED: (2)
FOLLOW ANNE MARIE
as she hurries back to their International Scout. On the
door of the Scout is a stylized logo of an oil derrick,
under which are the words:
NORTHLAND PETROLEUM CORP.
Anne Marie opens the hatchback and grabs a video camera.
ANGLE ON ERIC AND THE WOLF
Eric smiles as the wolf wobbles tentatively to his feet and
trots unsteadily away. Near the treeline the wolf turns,
glances back at Eric and then disappears into the forest.
NEW ANGLE
Anne Marie is taping the wolf's retreat. Looking through
the viewfinder, she crosses a gully between a pipeline
piling and a rock formation. Eric turns toward her and a
glint of light in the debris at her feet catches his eye.
ERIC
Anne Marie! Stop!
She glances down. Something metal is half-buried in the
dead leaves and gravel.
ERIC
(continuing)
Don't move.
Eric runs over. He pokes at the object with a stick. With
a SNAP, a steel leg trap chomps the stick in half. Anne
Marie jumps back. Eric brushes the dead leaves on the
ground behind her and she carefully backtracks out of the
gully.
ERIC
(continuing)
Goddamn trappers!
He angrily rips the trap out of the ground, unearthing
several others attached to one another by a long chain.
ERIC
(continuing)
Takes nerve, laying traplines on
restricted land.
Eric slips the scope off the dart rifle and climbs up the
pipeline on foot pegs to the top of an anchoring poINT.
(CONTINUED)
3 CONTINUED: (3)
Using the scope as a telescope, he scans up and down the
Haul Road.
ANNE MARIE
What are you doing?
ERIC
He still might be around. I saw
fresh tire tracks coming in.
HIS POV - THROUGH SCOPE
The road and the pipeline stretch toward either horizon,
north and south. In the distance, a jeep is parked on the
Haul Road. Near it, a Man climbs down into another shallow
ravine.
BACK TO SCENE
Eric hurries down the footpegs.
ERIC
Man and a jeep, about a mile and
a half down.
He jumps into the Scout. Anne Marie stuffs her cameras into
the hatchback. As soon as she climbs in, Eric tears out.
4 INT. SCOUT - (MOVING SHOT)
It races along the dusty gravel road at 60 MPH.
5 EXT. HAUL ROAD
Startled at the APPROACH of the Scout, the Trapper uproots
his traps and runs out of the ravine. He WHISTLES and
another Trapper appears nearby.
6 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP
They pile into their dilapidated, all-terrain jeep. It's
oddly well-equipped, however. Bolted to the dashboard is an
expensive tape player and a beat-up radio beacon receiver
with a round locating screen. They zoom off.
7 INT. SCOUT - (MOVING SHOT)
Eric stomps on the gas. The dust from the jeep obscures his
view but he's gaining on them anyway. Anne Marie hangs on
and squints her eyes against the choking dust.
8 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP - (MOVING SHOT)
The driver is LEMALLE (35), a tall, ugly, rawboned Canadian.
His entire outfit is made of animal hide. He has long red
hair, and a reptilian face usually twisted into a sadistic
sneer. While driving, he scans along the pipeline.
LEMALLE
Where the fuck did you drop
Corbett off?
In the passenger seat, MITCHELL (38), chews tobacco and
looks grim. He's a squat, flat-faced Okie, with curly
matted hair and tired grey eyes. He's dressed in a brown
long coat and has a Colt .45 Peacemaker in a quick-draw
holster strapped to his leg. Despite his intimidating air,
confrontation is not his style.
He spots a figure up ahead, where the road crosses a muddy
creek.
MITCHELL
He's over there.
9 EXT. HAUL ROAD
Turning sharply, the trappers' jeep splashes through the
creek bed without slowing. Bouncing, it comes down hard
against the axle-deep bank at the creek's high water mark.
LeMalle tries to back out, but can't find traction in the
mud.
Eric stops the Scout thirty yards behind them.
10 INT. SCOUT
Eric opens his door. To Anne Marie:
ERIC
Stay here.
ANNE MARIE
Be careful -- there're two of
them.
Eric reaches in the back seat and hands something to Anne
Marie.
ERIC
If I unzip my parka, stick this
out the window.
11 EXT. HAUL ROAD
Eric confidently approaches the jeep.
(CONTINUED)
11 CONTINUED:
Then, a third trapper climbs from the creek. He's got a
line of traps slung around his neck and a world of
experience on his face. He's BEN CORBETT, a life-long
huntsman, somewhere past forty, weathered beyond his years.
He has a feral nose, thick beard and dark, smart, hunter's
eyes. He wears a hooded cotton sweat shirt, cotton
coveralls and vapor-barrier mountain boots. On his belt is
a holster rig cradling a .44 magnum revolver.
Eric slows down. He didn't expect to face anyone as
formidable as Corbett.
12 INT. / EXT. JEEP
Emboldened by Corbett's presence, LeMalle reaches into the
back seat and grabs his 6.5 by 55 Swedish military carbine.
CORBETT
(to LeMalle)
No shooting. Let's see who's so
interested in us.
Corbett has an incongruously affable voice. He throws his
traps into the jeep, then strides closer toward Eric.
MITCHELL
(to Corbett)
Ain't worth it, Ben...
13 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING - LONG SHOT
As Corbett comes closer, Eric realizes this might not've
been a great idea. Corbett squints his eyes and sniffs the
air, as if by this he can gauge his opponent's mettle.
ERIC
You got two counts against you --
trapping out of season and
poaching on restricted land.
CORBETT
Can't be much of a crime, if all
they got minding the area is a
cocky kid.
ERIC
I got your plate number, asshole.
Maybe you feel like spending a
few months in jail.
Corbett just smiles.
(CONTINUED)
13 CONTINUED:
But LeMalle, rankled, sticks the carbine out the jeep
window.
Seeing the rifle pointed at him, Eric freezes, then slowly
unzips his parka.
LEMALLE
Ben? Sure you don't want me to
drop the fucker?
Corbett doesn't answer. Then, his eyes narrow and he looks
past Eric at the Scout.
CORBETT'S POV
The passenger in the Scout sticks what looks like another
rifle out the window.
BACK TO SCENE
Eric quickly glances over his shoulder to make sure Anne
Marie's backing him up.
ERIC
You leave and don't come back,
that's the end of it.
After a long moment, Corbett smiles again, then turns away
from Eric. He motions LeMalle to the front of the jeep.
Frustrated, LeMalle slams back the safety on the carbine and
throws it in the back seat.
ANGLE ON TRAPPERS
Mitchell climbs into the jeep and starts the engine.
LeMalle and Corbett rock the jeep back and forth in the rut.
While pushing, Corbett rips the sole of his boot on a sharp
piece of granite. He cusses and pushes harder.
14 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING
Eric walks back to the Scout. He feels the trappers' eyes
on his back, but forces himself not to hurry.
The trappers free their vehicle. Corbett gets in the
driver's seat, and they take off.
15 INT. SCOUT
Anne Marie's hands are shaking as she pulls the plastic
tranquilizer rifle back in the window.
(CONTINUED)
15 CONTINUED:
ANNE MARIE
(unnerved)
Great idea -- pointing a lousy
dart gun at some nut with a
high-powered hunting rifle.
ERIC
Bastards took off, though, didn't
they?
16 EXT. BOREAL FOREST - LATER THAT DAY
The trappers have left the flatlands of the Haul Road area.
Now their jeep climbs a pathway over the rolling foothills.
17 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP - (MOVING SHOT)
Corbett broods while driving. Mitchell looks out the
window. The silence makes LeMalle uncomfortable.
LEMALLE
All this fuckin' land, and we're
locked out. Makes me puke.
CORBETT
Jawing about it won't change it.
LEMALLE
Three hundred seventy-five
million acres in this state. I'm
real tired of runnin' into
people.
MITCHELL
Then don't look to your left.
18 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP
A brand-new Land Rover is parked on an alluvial fan in a
bend in a small river. Scattered about is an assortment of
expensive camping gear, beer cans, spent shells and other
garbage.
Three toy-macho, vacationing SPORTSMEN are guzzling beer and
BLASTING fish in the shallow river with 12-gauge shotguns.
They look up and glower suspiciously as the jeep slows and
stops.
19 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP
LeMalle grabs his carbine.
CORBETT
Leave it here.
(CONTINUED)
19 CONTINUED:
MITCHELL
Let's keep going. We're only an
hour from Devil's Cauldron.
CORBETT
(pats Mitchell's shoulder)
Relax. I just want to ask them
how the hunting is.
20 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP
Corbett gets out of the jeep. He regards the Sportsmen,
their shotguns and their mess with ill-concealed contempt.
The Sportsmen clutch their weapons and watch Corbett. He
walks around the camp, spotting a rubber-lined rucksack
stuffed with dead ermine. After a long, tense moment,
Corbett smiles.
CORBETT
Looks like you've had some luck.
Where's your guide?
SPORTSMAN #1
We're on our own, if it's any of
your damn business.
CORBETT
(re ermine)
You did real good.
He crouches next to the dead animals and strokes the fur.
LEMALLE
(to Corbett)
No swinging shit. They're over
their goddamned limit.
CORBETT
(to Sportsmen)
My friend is right. Supposed to
have a licensed guide when you're
on this land, too.
SPORTSMAN #1
Hey, we paid our fuckin' permit
fees.
LeMalle amuses himself by pissing in their campfire. No one
notices that in the b.g., quiet Sportsman #3 unzips his
parka, exposing a .45 Peacemaker in a belt holster.
(CONTINUED)
20 CONTINUED:
SPORTSMAN #2
I were you, I'd drive right on
outta here again. Now.
CORBETT
(calmly)
This was my roaming land, 'til
the government took it over.
Only Innuit can hunt here now,
and tourists, like you.
Corbett swings the rucksack of carcasses onto the hood of
the Land Rover. Pissed, Sportsmen #1 and #2 step closer to
him.
CORBETT
(continuing)
According to tribal law, hunters
passing through the land of
another tribe can only take game
to survive. They can eat the
meat, but have to surrender the
hides.
LeMalle pulls a hunting knife and holds up one of the
ermine.
LEMALLE
Want the meat?
SPORTSMAN #1
Fuck you, dirtball.
Corbett chuckles and Mitchell spits.
WIDER
LeMalle digs through the camping goodies in the back of the
Land Rover, many still in their packages. He helps himself
to some sandwiches and a 12-pack of beer.
LEMALLE
I say shoot 'em, bury 'em with
their shiny new car.
MITCHELL
(to LeMalle)
If you're gonna take something,
take it and let's go.
Corbett looks down to fasten the top of the rucksack.
(CONTINUED)
20 CONTINUED: (2)
NEW ANGLE
Suddenly, Sportsman #3 reaches inside his parka and pulls
the pistol. He swings it toward LeMalle.
LeMalle looks up when he hears the HAMMER cock.
There is a deafeningly loud SHOT.
Sportsman #3 falls down dead at LeMalle's feet.
Off to one side, Corbett holds a huge, smoking .44 magnum
six-shooter in his hand.
Shotgun in hand, Sportsman #1 gauges his chances of blasting
Corbett. Nil. When Corbett turns to him, he lies the
weapon down. Sportsman #2 rushes to his friend.
Looking bleak, Mitchell spits again. Corbett crosses to
LeMalle and knocks from his hands the things he wanted to
steal. Chastised, LeMalle smolders. After a moment:
CORBETT
(to Sportsmen)
Put him in your truck. Smell of
blood will attract the bears.
(to trappers)
Let's go.
As Corbett walks to the jeep, he's too angry to notice that
he's stepped in a patch of mud under the Land Rover.
Near the jeep, LeMalle stops and pulls them into a huddle.
LEMALLE
I don't believe in leavin'
witnesses behind, Ben.
MITCHELL
It was self defense. Leave it at
that.
LEMALLE
You think those fucks will tell
it that way?
CORBETT
(ending the argument)
We'll get a head start before
they go crying to the law.
Corbett turns and FIRES two rounds from his .44 into the
engine of the Land Rover. The Sportsmen stare and sputter.
(CONTINUED)
20 CONTINUED: (3)
CORBETT
(continuing; to Sportsmen)
You can pack out of here -- two,
three days' hike along this river
at most. Weather should hold
this early in the season.
Corbett and Mitchell get in their jeep.
LEMALLE
isn't yet satisfied. He walks back over to the Sportsmen,
kneeling beside their fallen friend, and crouches right
beside them. Intimidated, Sportsman #2 looks away, but
LeMalle grabs his chin and turns his face back toward him.
LEMALLE
Think I'm pretty? You better
forget how we look, 'cause next
time they won't keep me from
killing you. This land ain't
quite civilized, you know...
He unsheathes his buck knife. BELOW FRAME, he slices across
the forehead of the dead Sportsman, peels back his scalp and
cuts it loose, Indian-style. The Sportsmen are stunned and
sickened.
ANGLE ON TRAPPERS' JEEP
Corbett looks at Mitchell and wearily shakes his head.
MITCHELL
At least he scalped the dead one.
21 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - DUSK
Devil's Cauldron Hot Springs is a cluster of twenty tiny
dwellings connected by an unpainted boardwalk. The town
squats, ugly and temporary-looking, in a dirt clearing fifty
miles north of the Arctic Circle. Thirty miles east of the
Pipeline, it's almost dead center of interior Alaska.
At the edge of town is a gravel airstrip. Mixed with the
prospector-era sod-roof cabins are a few prefabricated
houses. The boon brought by men building the pipeline is
long gone. Now only a few itinerant loggers, natives and
bush dwellers remain to fight boredom, each other and the
depression of the oncoming winter.
Enough steam escapes from the hot springs to perpetually
blanket the valley with fog. The spa is log-walled and
horseshoe- shaped, with partitioned baths inside. Facing it
(CONTINUED)
21 CONTINUED:
are a mud-walled fire bath, a wooden steam bath called a
Maqi, six one-room cabins for let, and an unused dance hall.
LEO MEYERLING opens the tailgate of a Dodge truck with the
Northland Petroleum logo and "District Supervisor" on the
door. Meyerling is short and bald with a completely
disreputable face. He staples a poster on a wall. It has a
picture of him on it, and:
LEO MEYERLING
for
State Legislature
VOTE FOR THE PEOPLE'S FRIEND!
22 EXT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE
Corbett and the other trappers drive past Meyerling and park
their jeep as the sun disappears behind the foothills.
23 INT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE
A handwritten public notice next to a schedule of church
meetings reads: "Live each day so you can look every damn
man in the eye and tell him to go to hell." There is a post
office in the corner with some combination boxes and a
wicketless window.
The trappers come in. Corbett sits in a chair and pulls his
boots off. One of his wool socks is wet. He nods to the
man sitting in the other chair, SAM WILDER. Wilder is short
and tough, with a full head of crewcut grey hair and
weather- ravaged face that makes him look older than his
sixty years.
CORBETT
Hullo, Sam. Slow day?
WILDER
(wary)
Ben...boys. Yeah, real slow, and
I'd like to keep it that way.
CORBETT
(conciliatory)
Just passing through.
A chubby Inupiat (interior Eskimo), wearing thick glasses,
several heavy sweaters and battery-heated socks, fusses
behind the counter. He's EARL KENAI, owner of the hot
springs spa and the general store.
LeMalle chews on a handful of bear jerky. Kenai stares at
LeMalle until he begrudgingly pays for the jerky. Corbett
pulls on some sneakers and hands his boots to Kenai.
(CONTINUED)
23 CONTINUED:
CORBETT
(continuing; re boot)
Needs patching.
KENAI
Twenty-five dollar.
CORBETT
(smiles)
Sure have learned to worship the
white man's god.
Kenai nods agreeably and holds his hand out. Corbett pays
him. Meyerling comes in and posts some fliers on the
corkboard.
MEYERLING
I hope I can count on you
gentlemen to vote for The
People's Friend this November.
CORBETT
Share some of that oil company
money in your pocket and you can.
Meyerling smiles like a toad, then slaps another poster on
the wall. LeMalle throws his knife and it STICKS in the
poster between Meyerling's spread fingers. Meyerling jumps
back and the trappers laugh. Meyerling looks to Wilder for
support.
WILDER
(to Meyerling)
One flier comes loose and I shoot
you for littering.
MEYERLING
(exiting; grudgeless)
Have your fun... just remember
The People's Friend come election
day.
WILDER
(shakes his head)
Oil Company candidate running on
that slogan makes about as much
sense as a rat fucking a
grapefruit.
CORBETT
Hard to work up an interest in
politics, way we live. You're
the first people we've seen in
two weeks.
(CONTINUED)
23 CONTINUED: (2)
LEMALLE
(to Kenai)
How about a quart of Jack
Daniel's?
KENAI
How about it is right. Back in
the primary this town was voted
dry.
LEMALLE
(to Corbett)
Aw, shit. Let's go. Leave a
note for Viking Bob, tell him to
meet us in Cache.
CORBETT
Relax. One more day without
drink won't kill you. Right,
Sam?
WILDER
I'm living proof of that sad
fact.
CORBETT
Can we buy the Marshal some
dinner?
WILDER
No, I better stay at my post.
Even without the hootch riling
'em up, you know how
mean-spirited folks get when they
smell winter coming.
24 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON VALLEY - LONG SHOT - NIGHT
An early STORM has blown in from the north, bringing
whipping winds and freezing rain.
25 INT. RENTAL CABIN
Corbett peers out the tiny window, frowning. LeMalle cleans
his carbine while eating beans and bacon. Mitchell hunches
over a table. He's making a scrimshaw -- delicately
engraving, using homemade tools, on a palm-sized piece of
whale bone. He rubs his eyes and looks up at Corbett.
MITCHELL
So much for the walking weather
you predicted.
(CONTINUED)
25 CONTINUED:
CORBETT
Had no choice...
(pointedly, at LeMalle)
...Given the situation.
MITCHELL
I know. Least you didn't shoot
all of them.
LEMALLE
Fuck you, Mitchell. Woulda been
my ass if Ben didn't waste that
prick.
CORBETT
(after a beat)
Mitchell, look, it don't take
three of us to wait for Viking
Bob.
Mitchell glances at LeMalle, then at Corbett.
CORBETT
(continuing)
Go ahead. Take the jeep. I'll
come to Cache with Bob when he
gets here.
MITCHELL
Okay by me. You're the one likes
these hot springs so much.
CORBETT
Leave my traps. We'll tag up,
couple days.
26 EXT. HAUL ROAD - "THE TURTLE" - DAY
The winds have died down. The rain has turned to a light
snow.
A mobile arctic dwelling sits on a rise next to the Haul
Road. It's a double-unit weathertight cocoon of fiberglass
and aluminum, pulled by a diesel rig on oversized tires.
The front module is 12 by 24, the rear 12 by 18.
An extended-cab pickup pulls up and Sam Wilder gets out.
The gravel-and-dirt Haul Road, paralleling the pipeline for
400 miles, is closed to the public. An arriving vehicle,
therefore, is news. The front door of the dwelling opens.
Eric and Anne Marie come outside, delighted to see Wilder.
(CONTINUED)
26 CONTINUED:
WILDER
I was making my rounds, saw your
hangar wide open, plane getting
rained on, so I closed it up.
ERIC
Thanks.
ANNE MARIE
(to Wilder)
I bet you haven't had lunch.
WILDER
(smiles)
Bet you're right. But I didn't
come by to wangle a meal --
ERIC
-- We appreciate the company.
Anne Marie's getting cabin fever
already.
Anne Marie shoots a look at Eric but doesn't disagree --
this is obviously an issue with them. Wilder looks with
amusement at the mobile dwelling.
WILDER
What'd you say they call these
spaceships?
ERIC
Mobile Arctic Dwelling -- MAD.
ANNE MARIE
I call it 'the Turtle,' as in
carrying your home on your back.
ERIC
Best thing is, Meyerling has to
chase around to find us.
ANNE MARIE
(laughs)
The little creep hates it that
Eric actually does what the
company hired him to do.
WILDER
Watch it with Meyerling. Man's
as mean and corrupt as they get.
Cut his mother's throat if it'd
get him a couple votes.
(CONTINUED)
26 CONTINUED: (2)
Looking past Wilder, Eric points out some smoke on the
horizon.
ERIC
Hey, Sam, look over there. Black
and white smoke.
WILDER
Damn. Likely that's an SOS.
Have to pass on that lunch.
ERIC
We'll go with you.
CUT TO:
27 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP - LATER THAT DAY
Everything seems peaceful enough. The SOS fire (made from
burning green branches for white smoke and rubber for black
smoke) has burnt down to embers.
Eric, Anne Marie and Wilder pull up in Wilder's pickup.
The two Sportsmen sit in the front seat of the Land Rover,
but they don't react to the arrival of the rescuers. In the
back seat, a reflective camping blanket covers a large mass.
Something is amiss. Eric shoots a look of trepidation at
Anne Marie as they get out of the pickup. Wilder pulls the
door of the Land Rover open.
A Sportsman slumps out onto the ground. His eyes are open
and his tongue pokes out between his lips. His skin is
blue-white. (He looks, in fact, much like Eric's nightmare.)
Startled, Eric steps back. Anne Marie gasps with horror.
Wilder unzips the Sportsman's light windbreaker and listens
for a heartbeat. Nothing.
WILDER
Stupid goddamn greenhorns! Froze
to death.
ANNE MARIE
It's not even winter!
WILDER
They got wet in the rain. Core
body temperature dropped, got
drowsy, probably didn't even know
what was happening.
Eric stares at the dead Sportsmen.
(CONTINUED)
27 CONTINUED:
WILDER
(continuing)
Question is why they sat here
when the storm moved in. Check
their stuff while I sniff around.
Wilder tries the ignition. The starter TURNS OVER, but the
engine makes a horrendous GRINDING. He walks to the front
of the vehicle. Noticing the bullet holes in the grille, he
bends down for a closer look.
NEW ANGLE
Eric opens the rear hatchback and digs through the plentiful
supplies. Still in their packages are some matchbox-sized
ELT locating beacons.
ERIC
They had Emergency Locater
Transmitters, but didn't use
them.
(opens one up; shakes his
head)
Maybe because they didn't bring
batteries.
CLOSE
Anne Marie opens the back door of the Land Rover. She pulls
back the camping blanket... and uncovers the third
Sportsman. The torn red flesh on his head and his
bugged-out eyes are a hideous sight.
Anne Marie SCREAMS and stumbles away.
28 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP - LAND ROVER
Eric runs over to her as she tries to catch her breath.
Wilder looks at the third Sportsman and angrily kicks the
side of the Land Rover.
WILDER
I'm too old for this shit.
ERIC
Any idea who could've done it?
Sourly, Wilder points to a patch of frozen mud under the
vehicle.
WILDER
A certain sonofabitch bastard
-more-
(CONTINUED)
28 CONTINUED:
WILDER (Cont'd)
wearing a damaged mountain boot.
Left a footprint clear as an
autograph.
Wilder examines the Sportsman, finding the bullet hole in
his chest.
WILDER
(continuing)
Even for Ben Corbett, this is
nasty. Man's got balls. He was
sitting in Devil's Cauldron when
I left, calm as can be.
ANNE MARIE
Thank God. You can arrest him.
WILDER
Not necessarily. Corbett's awful
hardbitten these days.
Wilder leans against the Land Rover, feeling tired.
WILDER
(continuing)
His old roaming area's all
private reserve now. Normally,
long as he stays civil in my
jurisdiction, I let him be.
(beat)
Won't be able to take him by my
lonesome, though. Nobody in
town'll lift a finger on this.
Eric looks hard at the dead Sportsmen.
ERIC
(quietly)
I'll go into town with you.
ANNE MARIE
Eric, leave it alone. It's not
your business.
ERIC
(shakes his head)
No way can he get away with this.
I'll be back by tonight.
29 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - AFTERNOON
The town is quiet.
30 INT. HOT SPRINGS SPA
Corbett soaks in one of the huge wooden tubs with a pudgy
Inupiat hooker, DIXIE.
He looks up as Eric comes into the spa. Eric holds
Corbett's boots, which have been repaired. Eric pauses when
he sees Corbett. There is a flash of recognition between
them.
ERIC
Ben Corbett?
CORBETT
Yep. Afraid you have me at a
disadvantage.
ERIC
Kenai at the general store asked
me to bring these. Didn't expect
we'd already met.
CORBETT
No big deal. We just got off on
the wrong foot. What's your
name?
Eric glances down at Corbett's duffel bag, which sits on the
floor next to Corbett's tub. Corbett's magnum rests on top
of it, well within reach. Corbett notices Eric's interest
in it. He leans back and smiles.
ERIC
Desmond.
CORBETT
New to the country, kid?
ERIC
Six months. Ecological study for
Northland Oil.
CORBETT
Ecology. Folks use that term for
everything but what it means:
who's eating who.
Putting his hand on Dixie's shoulder, Corbett stands and
gets out of the tub. His sinewy body, resembling a
scarecrow made of steel cable, is covered with scars. He
wraps a towel around his waist and crosses to Eric.
(CONTINUED)
30 CONTINUED:
CORBETT
(continuing)
Now, why don't you get around to
saying what you want.
Corbett grabs his boots from Eric and finds himself facing a
revolver, which Eric has been hiding inside one of the
boots.
CORBETT
(continuing; smiling)
You wouldn't shoot anyone...
WILDER (OS)
But I would.
NEW ANGLE
Wilder has come in the back way and stands behind Corbett
with a 12-gauge shotgun. He kicks Corbett's magnum out of
reach.
CORBETT
All this for laying traps on
private land?
WILDER
You left a footprint at the
Sportsmen's camp. Only pretty
sight there, Ben, 'cause the two
men you didn't shoot and mutilate
died of exposure.
Corbett shakes his head but remains implacable.
CORBETT
Christ if I shouldn't know better
than to step in soft earth. I've
seen footprints in the tundra a
hundred years old.
WILDER
(to Eric)
I got it from here. Thanks.
CORBETT
(to Wilder)
Sam, give Dixie here fifty bucks
out of my kit, will you?
31 EXT. HOT SPRINGS SPA
Eric comes outside. Earl Kenai, overdressed for the weather
in gloves, mukluks and a full-length sealskin coat, stands
(CONTINUED)
31 CONTINUED:
shivering by a woodshed near the hot springs, hacksawing a
piece of meat from a frozen moose carcass.
KENAI
Before white men came, my people
lived in sod houses underground
and laid our dead on the tundra.
Now we live above ground and bury
our dead, and we haven't been
warm since.
Wilder comes out of the spa with his shotgun and Corbett's
duffel bag cradled in his arm. Handcuffed, Corbett walks in
front of him.
Kenai looks down to avoid eye contact with Corbett as he
goes by. Corbett stops next to Eric and smiles.
CORBETT
Nice bluff the other day with the
tranquilizer gun out your jeep
window. See you again, maybe.
ERIC
(unintimidated)
Yeah. Maybe so.
32 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - FOLLOW WILDER
as he leads Corbett along the boardwalk to the other end of
town. They approach a prefab house perched on skids under a
tall antenna tower. Mounted above the shack, a DC wind
charger turbine spins lazily in the faint breeze. From
within the cabin comes an anomalous SOUND -- MTV. Wilder
KNOCKS on the door.
ARTHUR NEFF, a pasty-white, 45-year-old ex-Texan, pulls the
door open. His customary grin fades when he sees Corbett.
33 INT. NEFF'S HOUSE
Wilder pushes Corbett inside past Neff.
WILDER
I need to call Fairbanks.
Neff just stares at Corbett.
WILDER
(continuing)
Neff! Dial it up. State police.
With a "what can I do but oblige?" look to Corbett, Neff
sits in front of the RCA Alascom radio telephone and dials.
(CONTINUED)
33 CONTINUED:
NEFF
(on phone)
Fairbanks Alascom? Patch me
through to the State Police.
After a moment, he hands the receiver to Wilder. Wilder
takes it, keeping one eye and the shotgun on Corbett.
WILDER
(on phone)
This is Sam Wilder, Marshal in
Devil's Cauldron. Had some
killings here. I got a suspect;
be real nice if someone came and
took him off my hands.
STATE POLICEMAN (VO)
(thru phone)
On a good day I couldn't spare a
crosswalk guard. But now, no
way. Folks're batshit with the
weather turning sour. Bring him
in yourself.
WILDER
(on phone)
Next plane's not coming 'til next
Monday.
STATE POLICEMAN (VO)
(thru phone)
Sit your suspect out in the cold.
He'll keep.
WILDER
(on phone)
This man's friends ain't gonna
look favorably on his
incarceration.
STATE POLICEMAN (VO)
(thru phone; Mr. Glib)
So shoot him. Won't have to feed
him that way --
Angry, Wilder slams the receiver down.
34 INT. WILDER'S CABIN
In one room, there is a wood-burning cookstove and an Ashley
heat stove, a table, a bunk and a small window. Behind a
cloth partition is an eight by six holding cell. The frame
of an iron-bar door is securely cemented to the log walls.
Wilder comes in with Corbett and locks him in the cell.
(CONTINUED)
34 CONTINUED:
CORBETT
Mind if I get some stuff from my
kit?