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Part Two

(A different section of the wooded area where Ska was last spotted.  A tight shot on a mole popping up out of the ground, followed by a loud gunshot which dispatches the creature.  We pan up and see Doom holding a smoking pistol.)

DOOM: Heh, I got the li'l bastard that time...

EASY:  OKAY, OKAY, calm down, old man...you better give me that back for now... (Easy puts the gun back in his shoulder holdster)

DOOM:  So what were you rambling on about earlier?

EASY: Well, it's really simple...I was reading this story--I think it was Hawthorne or some shit--where all these nineteenth century types decided that they had perfected civilization...

DOOM: Civilization isn't a perfectable thing, boy.  The people who believe that are fooling themselves, and holding other men up to a fake standard of truth.

EASY (stops in his tracks, perturbed): Do you want to hear this crap or not, old man?

DOOM:  Well, if it'll get it out of your system.

EASY:   So ANYWAY, they decided to take all the ideas they thought they'd outgrown and toss 'em into a big-ass bonfire.  They rounded up all the copies of all the great thinkers, the poets, the...well, all the junk of civilization to that point, and brought it to a huge pit to be burnt on a bonfire.

DOOM:  All of 'em at the same time?

EASY: Well, YEAH, that's the only way you could be sure it all goes up in smoke, by doing 'em all at the same time.

DOOM:  That's some hellacious organization skills for the nineteenth century.

EASY: Well, it was a fantasy, dumbass, of COURSE it all came together. BUT ANYWAY, they toasted the books, the toasted the uniforms, the art, the weapons, money...even the Bible...cracklecracklecrackle, all up in smoke.

DOOM: You'd think they would've kept the weapons...

EASY: Nah, in this wacked-out shit-for-brains reality, they saw guns like baby shoes they didn't wanna keep.  

DOOM: The Bible must've been a hard one to swallow...

EASY: Well, the guy writing the story wanted the Bible burning to be all heartbreaking dramatic and shit, but if you're gonna make a break, you're gonna make a BREAK.

DOOM: So what happened then?

EASY:  Well, the narrator guy said, "Oooooo, what's there to live for now that everything's all gone?"  And then he focused on three people at one of the other edges, and they were getting shitfaced on the last bottle of brandy.

DOOM: So getting drunk is the last thing worth living for?  That's a hell of a philosophy. (Doom takes a hit from his flask.)

EASY:  Nah, it was more horseshit than that, cos they decided that the HUMAN HEART is what's worth living for.  The HUMAN HEART!  Can you believe the absolute balls on this guy Hawthorne to drag us along on the destruction of civilization and he bails on us with the HUMAN FUCKIN' HEART?

DOOM: When did he write this?

EASY: I dunno, sometime before the Civil War.

DOOM: They believed in goodness of people back then, y'know.

EASY: Poor dumb bastards.  ANYWAY, I was more interested in the whole destruction thing...I mean, sure you've killed the WORDS, the actual OBJECTS, but the IDEAS are still in people's heads. 

DOOM:  Ideas are very powerful things.

EASY: Yeah, but MY point is, this whole dick-waving parade's object is to press the reset button, to start from ZERO.  (waits two beats) So if you really wanna do that, you're gonna have to start killing people.

DOOM (pauses for a tellingly long time): And that's when you decided to start carrying a gun?

EASY: Well, that was PART of it, yeah...

(Doom, who was walking side-by-side with Easy throughout this conversation, now waits a few steps and trails behind instead.)

EASY (jerks around): Hey, where did you go, old bastard?

DOOM (hesitantly): I'm still with you, just in a different place...

EASY:  Just making sure I can still see you. (As he turns back to the camera, a sour look crosses his face)

(CUT TO Chaz breathing hard and still running at full speed down a country road.  Eventually he steadies himself against a power pole in a clearing.)

CHAZ (between heaving breaths):  Holy shit, he wasn't fooling around... (He notices a small farmhouse and knocks frantically on the door. A tall brunette woman answers, although we can't get a clearer fix on her at the moment.)

THE WOMAN: Oh my god, you look like you were dragged through the gutter.

CHAZ (still bent over and hyperventilating):  Sorry to bother you, but I just had an emergency down the road, and I need to make a quick ca--(he gets a good look at the woman) Oh my god...I think I love you.  Wanna get married?

THE WOMAN (laughs throatily): Not tonight...will you settle for coffee?

CHAZ: Do you have beer?

WOMAN: Mmmmaybe.  Come on in and we'll clean you up.  I hope you don't mind wrestling, that's all we're getting on TV these days for some reason.  (The camera pulls back as Chaz and the woman enter the small house and the door closes behind them.  The last thing we see is a battered mailbox with a single word painted on it: FROST.)

(We're now in a diner, some bumblefart hole in the wall across the street from the rundown hotel. As we pull back from the window, we see Sonny and the "Admiral", a man so ragged he's almost a street person (and, of course, played by Gary Busey). Sonny is drinking a Coke; we don't know what the Admiral is drinking, and from the look on Sonny's face, we might not WANT to know.)

SONNY: So, um....you need some sugar with that?

ADMIRAL (examining his mug): I NEVER tamper with natural fluids, boy. Their integrity is not to be trifled with lightly.

SONNY (awkward pause): Well, back to the shipment... (The Admiral shushes Sonny as he stares into the cup.)

ADMIRAL: The doctors of the eighteenth century thought you could diagnose any ailment just by looking at urine, you know. Tasting it, too. (The admiral takes a swig.)

SONNY: Aw jeez, I thought you were KIDDING about that.

WAITRESS (passing by): I hope that's not one of OUR glasses.

ADMIRAL (with a diseased grin and a raspy whisper): So the punks haven't even made it into the state yet. (grabs Sonny by the collar, pulling him partially over the table, gradually starts raising his voice) I feel the need to remind you that I'm back on the move at the end of this weekend. I don't have time to fuck around. My shipment is very, VERY valuable, and if they can't pay my price WHEN I ask for it, I have people right in line who WILL. (At this point, they both notice that everybody's looking their way, so the Admiral releases his grip and stands up.) Don't mess with a man's business. (He starts walking towards the men's room.)

SONNY (under his breath): Jackass.

ADMIRAL (suddenly popping up right by his face): I heard that. (another nasty grin as he slowly leaves again, pointing at Sonny and making obscure hand gestures. Sonny has a look on his face like he's trying to figure out which ring of Hell he's in right now.)

(CUT TO a modest but clean house planted smack in the middle of some godawful Florida swamplands. The backyard is a steep slope into the swamp, and the back deck, which is where we are, is raised several yards off the ground. A gator swims into sight, and a piece of bread lands into its open mouth from offscreen. We pan up to the source of the bread, which turns out to be TANVIR RAQUIB (played by Tony Shalhoub), standing on the deck overlooking the swamp and dressed to the nines. A cellphone rings, and Tan reaches in the jacket pocket of his custom made suit to answer.)

TAN (matter-of-factly): Kill whitey. Tanvir speaking.

VOICE OF SUPES (out of breath): Hey man, it's Supes. You'll NEVER GUESS the freaky shit that just happened at the house...

TAN: Supes, this might be a bad time...I'm trying to keep the line clear for an important call.

SUPES: Um, okay...do ya know how to get blood off of a bedroom wall?

TAN: Aw shit, you didn't kill the crazy bitch, did you?

SUPES: Nah, but I probably will the next time I see her...any ideas?

TAN (deep sigh): Have you tried the club soda thing?

SUPES: I haven't tried anything yet, man.

TAN: If it's still fresh, you can sponge the stain off with club soda. If that doesn't work, call Doom. He's really good at mopping up blood.

SUPES: Ha, ha...okay, later... (Tan hangs up)

TAN: I REALLY need to get anonymous call reject... (pushes a few buttons on the phone)

AUTOMATED VOICE: Welcome to voicemail. You have...ONE...NEW...message.

SKA'S VOICE: Whazzup, Tan. We kind of got sidetracked about halfway down the highway, but we should still all hook up before the weekend. I'll let you know when we cross the state line. (Tan scowls and shakes his head furiously)

TAN: They're fucking it up. DAMN.

SKA: I heard about your...um...SITUATION down there. The key is getting her really, REALLY drunk. I think you can drink her under the table. (We can hear a voice in the background shouting "SCORE!" hockey commentator style) SHUT UP, EASY. Later.

AUTOMATED VOICE: There are no more new messages. (Tan switches the phone off. A feminine arm wraps around him.)

JANEY (Maggie Gyllenhaal, natch): Did I hear you say somebody got blood on their wall?

TAN (over his shoulder): That was just Supes being a dumbass.

JANEY: Well, remember we've got dinner reservations for seven tonight. I need you to make sure the driveway's clear before we leave, if you know what I mean. (She's about to duck back inside, then pauses) How the hell do you know how to get blood off of walls?

TAN (turns around, gives us "passionate playa"): Oh, I think you'll find I know a LOT of useful things, babe.

JANEY (not reassured in the least): Ooooookay. (And back inside she goes.)

TAN (smiling to himself): "Under the table." Oh, hell yeah. (squares his shoulders, steps back inside)

To be continued...