EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY - DAY
From up high, it's the scene of a motorcycle accident in the middle of a highway.
Closer: a young guy in black leather and black denim lies on the pavement. He's bleeding profusely from the leg. A broken shorty helmet is rocking on the pavement nearby.
Beside him is a toppled and bent Harley Davidson Sportster in black and chrome. Oil and gas leak out of it.
Closer to him: he’s 25, handsome, fine featured. He has longish curly blond hair, and he's staring up to the sky with glazed eyes.
People are swarming around him. It’s just running legs in the frame, high-heeled shoes, work boots. . .
Flashing red lights are reflected on his face, the side of an ambulance floats in behind the crowd.
INT. CITY GENERAL HOSPITAL - DAY
This is JAKE SMITH. And he’s alive.
He’s in a dingy, light-green hospital room. He's propped up on pillows in his hospital bed, in a hospital robe, flicking the TV channels with the clicker. He's got dark circles around his eyes. He's got faint blond scruff like he hasn't shaved in a week. His right leg is secured in a contraption hanging above the mattress, steel rods with support trusses go up and down the length of it from ankle to the top of his thigh.
ON THE TV:JAKE
(to the TV)
You lie, Ghastly.
A thin, pale man with hollowed-out features and one big eyebrow leers out from the TV on the wall. Definite Ghastly. Then, Ghastly is suddenly standing in front off a map with a bunch of smiley suns on it.
GHASTLY (FROM T.V.)
And for tomorrow, sunny skies again for the river valley, high in the upper seventies . . . just a little cooler in the hills. Pleasant, right Matt?
BACK TO SCENE:MATT (SOMEWHERE O.S.)
That’s right, Wayne.
He clicks the TV off.JAKE
(to TV)
Jackass. Pleasant. Morons.
A male VOICE answers Jake from offscreen . . .
The guy, HENRY T. NARAKA, walks into frame. He's Asian, stocky, muscular, bald with a knit beret, and has the shadow of a goatee. He’s in a tank top and shorts. He's about Jake's age.VOICE (O.S)
Well then, which is it?
JAKE
Henry, man!
HENRY
(looking at him closely)
Jake, look at you.
Jake waves at the leg contraption.JAKE
I guess. Shit.
Henry moves over to Jake, and they both knock knuckles.HENRY
No, I mean you look good, alive.
JAKE
Am I?. . . No one told me what happened to the bike yet, though.
Henry goes to the end of the bed, picks up Jake’s chart and inspects it mock-officiously.HENRY
Ahhh, the bike . . . that may be dead.
JAKE
I guess I knew as much.
HENRY
You in pain?
Jake thumbs to the I.V.tower nearby.JAKE
Yeah. Not too bad. I'm on some kind of . . .
(says it s l o w l y, low)
. . . paaaaaainkiller, in this thing.
HENRY
(pokes the chart)
Mucho mega opiate omega.
JAKE
(grinning)
They already got me hooked, I know it.
Henry hooks the chart back to the end of Jake’s bed.HENRY
That figures.
HENRY (CONT’D)
This doesn’t say. Any word on when you're getting out?
Both of them look over to the large window of diffuse light. There is an empty bed nearby.JAKE
They won't tell. Soon as I can ambulate, I suppose.
Henry sits down in the chrome chair next to the bed, and stretches his legs out under Jake.JAKE
Yeah . . . So how are you?
HENRY
How am I?
JAKE
Yeah.
HENRY
I'm okay . . . dark times, that's all.
Very long pause. Henry just looks at him.JAKE
Yep. Guess so.
HENRY
(finally)
It would have really sucked if you died.
There is another long pause.JAKE
Thanks.
JAKE (CONT’D)
(finally)
Jackass says nice out.
HENRY
It is!
Jake gets the button strapped to the rail of his bed, and pushes it. A NURSE's voice comes over a little speaker somewhere.JAKE
Then . . . let's fuckin' ambulate!
NURSE
Yes, Mister Smith?
EXT. HOSPITAL/PARKING LOT - DAYJAKE
Nurse, I really got to get outside. It’s for my mental health.
Henry is pushing Jake in a wheelchair out whooshing auto doors.
Jake's Frankenstein leg is propped up by a special rig jutting from the chair. He’s still in his robe, but he has a black T-shirt on underneath, and a blanket over the rest of him.
It is nice out. Beyond the hospital, a glowing white-yellow sun hovers low over the top of a nearby line of dark trees.
Jake and Henry ambulate across a half-full parking lot of modest and crummy mid-1990s vintage cars, along with a few black Mercedes sedans . . . and finally onto a rutted sidewalk. Minivans and ugly cars go by, heading up and down a hill.
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - LATER
Henry pushes Jake up the sidewalk, up the hill, away from the hospital. Now they’re moving along a street of small, white clapboard and brick houses - some ranch style, a few with pointy Victorian roofs. A few of the houses have dead trees in their front yards - one skeletal dead maple, a couple bristly dead pine. Though the rest of the trees around seem okay.
EXT. OVERGROWN OLD PLAYGROUND - LATER
Henry has parked Jake's wheelchair so they're both at the edge of a blue concrete wading pool. It’s cracked and drained, there is a garbage can in the middle tipped on its side in a puddle, and a half deflated soccer ball in there, too. There is a tall metal swing set nearby, but just a frame, no swings. And there is a giant leafless oak hanging over a sandbox with weeds growing up out of it.
Henry sits next to Jake on a worn, cracked wooden bench.JAKE
Thanks for the ride, bro.
HENRY
(winded)
I needed the exercise.
They both take in the view. Beyond the playground is a gently-sloping hillside of brown grass and spindly bushes. At the crest of the hill are some high power wires, and beyond those, the low sun is now a great orange blob sinking further into the thick air.JAKE
It's good to breathe some real air, even if it is this fuckin’ place.
HENRY
Jake, we got to get out of this place.
Long pause.JAKE
(nods grimly)
I know. I know.
JAKE (CONT’D)
How?
HENRY
There has to be a way.
JAKE
Sometimes . . . sometimes I kinda think something has left, already, huh?
HENRY
Yeah. Maybe we’ll figure out how to follow it.
Jake moves his leg a little, winces.JAKE
Yeah, I don’t know if it’s escaped, though. Or lost.
HENRY
That enough ambulate?
JAKE
I guess. Guess I got to get back to mucho mega opiate omega.
They both just look at each other and grin thinly, a knowing nod between them.HENRY
Okay.
Henry gets up and pushes Jake away from the dead pool. They head back down the steep sidewalk. The top of the hospital hovers above some houses and trees way down the hill.
EXT. CITY NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - DAY
An older model Chevy Caprice taxi deposits Jake and his crutches in front of a dilapidated white colonial-style house with a big front yard . . .
And Jake is all in black, T-shirt, jeans (his leg is stiff underneath.) He's looking much better. Clean shaven. Even a bit healthy. He’s got duffle bag strapped over his shoulder, and a plastic bag of groceries wrapped around the duffle bag’s strap.
The house has peeling paint, a few black shutters askew, some missing, leaving a brighter white outline from where they were. There is a strange old craggy Japanese cherry tree in the yard. (But it’s alive.) There are heaps of mown, dead grass all across the lawn. The houses on either side of Jake's are immaculate and uptight brick.
Jake crutches across the lawn, and goes up to the front door.
INT. JAKE'S HOUSE - SAME
DARKNESS.
Then the CLICK, RATTLE of Jake as he fumbles with the lock. Then he swings the door open, SKREEE on the hinges, and a RUSTLE as he stumbles in.
He flips on a light.
There is an old black Steinway upright piano against one wall. Faded, worn orange shag wall to wall carpet below. There is an ugly floor to ceiling lamp with tulip shades. At another wall is a couch with colorful tropical birds prints in the fabric, an old Danish modern chair, and a coffee table loaded with magazines and books.
Nothing answers. Jake drops his shoulder bag, unhinges the grocery bag, and crutches through the living room with it.JAKE
I'm home!
IN THE KITCHEN -
He crutches into a mustard yellow tile kitchen that’s small like a galley on a ship. Jake props open the dark maroon fridge at the end of the galley, unpacks the plastic grocery bag with difficulty (juice, beer,) puts a box of cereal on the counter, then gets himself a cold beer that is already in there.
IN THE LIVING ROOM -
Jake crutches back into the living room and sits down at the piano. He plays an unrecognizable, original tune. He's pretty good. He plays this for a minute or so. He downs the beer, plays just a bit more, playing around, trying something new out, then stops. He hobbles back to the kitchen with his empty can as the Steinway resonates faintly. He crutches back into the living room with a new beer . . . a phone somewhere in the empty house RINGS.
He makes a spot on the coffee table for the new beer, pushing away a few old Guitar Player magazines, (the top one in the stack has some guy on the cover that looks like Jake holding a Gibson Flying V.) He puts the beer down, and hobbles slowly out of the living room, and more slowly up the stairs out of frame. The phone keeps RINGING.
IN THE UPSTAIRS TV DEN -
Jake crutches into a knotty pine-paneled room with a big old console-type RCA TV. Seven rings into it, now, he misses the call. CLICK! The older-model tape answering machine gets it. Jake just screens . . . A gruff voice (BILLY ZEBULE) starts talking through the speaker.
BILLY
Jaaaaake. You there? Shoulda called us for a ride . . . You just listenin’?
A pause, the line crackles. Jake doesn't move to pick it up. He just looks at the machine as Billy keeps on:
Click.BILLY (CONT’D)
You are there, aren’t ya? Anyway, we all think it's about time you host another party at your fine mansion. Like . . . tonight. So I'm putting the word out, Smith. See ya then. Bye.
Jake sits down on a ripped black leather couch that has yellow foam poking out from inside it. He sighs, seeing the answering machine is still flashing like it has two more messages. He struggles to get back up, crutches over to the machine and pushes a button.
BEEEEEEP. Then . . .NASAL MALE VOICE
This is a call for Jake Smith. Mister Smith, your Harley is at the city impound lot. You can claim it Monday through Friday, nine to five. After the first of the month, there will be a twenty dollar a day storage charge. Thank you.
OLDER FEMALE VOICE
Jake, it's Kay Gdansk. I just thought you'd like to know some of your friends were creeping around the house while you were in the hospital. I heard the piano at three A.M.. It caused my sister great distress and you know she's suffering from Alzheimer's. This is a nice neighborhood, and we'd like to keep it that way . . .
JAKE
(to machine)
Oh reeeeeeeally . . .
BEEEEEP. Then . . .KAY GDANSK
. . . Wayne mowed your lawn last week, by the way. Okay. Good-bye.
Jake shuts the machine off.BILLY ZEBULE AGAIN
Jaaaaake. You there? Shoulda called us for a ride . . . You just lis.
There is a muted rumble of a lawn mower outside, now. He goes to a big window nearby and pushes it open to the sound of the mower ROARING away.
He surveys the back yards.
OUT JAKE’S WINDOW:
Out the window are rectangles of the neighborhood back lawns. In the lawn to the left of Jake's is an older, pear-shape woman in denim overalls, (Kay Gdansk) pulling some weeds out of her kitchen garden in the middle of her lush plot. Jake's lawn is a brown mess of piles of week-old mown grass and a sad brown-needled arborvitae. On the right side is a lanky man in a dress shirt and polyester slacks pushing a nice red Toro.
EXT. LAWN MOWER MAN’S BACKYARD - SAME
Why, it’s one-big-eyebrow Wayne Ghastly, the TV weatherman. BANG! Wayne hits a huge chunk of something hard under the mower, and the Toro dies.
Ghastly stands looking at the mower for a moment. Finally he tips the mower up and looks underneath.
Then he hoists the mower completely up on its side, and watches the mower blade fall right off into the grass.
Wayne starts kicking the mower, and it flips over like a turtle.WAYNE
Damn shit damn shit shit damn . . .
INT. JAKE’S TV DEN - SAME
Jake is laughing at the window.
EXT. GHASTLY’S BACK YARD - SAMEJAKE
Ha ha ha! Jackass.
Seen low and from far across the lawn, Ghastly is heading back into his house, and watching him go - sitting upright in the grass - is a human skull with a chunk of bone missing at the right temple where the mower blade hit it.
***
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