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28l INT -- EMPLOYEE RESTROOM -- DAY 281
Red steps to the urinal, stares at himself in the wall mirror.
RED (V.O.)
Thirty years I've been asking permission to piss. I can't squeeze
a drop without say-so.
A strange east Indian guitar-whine begins. The Beatles. George
Harrison's "Within You Without You..."
282 EXT -- STREET -- DAY 282
...which carries through as Red walks. People and traffic. He
keeps looking at the women. An alien species.
RED (V.O.)
Women, too, that's the other thing. I forgot they were half the
human
race. There's women everywhere, every shape and size. I find myself
semi-hard most of the time, cursing myself for a dirty old man.
TWO YOUNG WOMEN stroll by in cut-offs and t-shirts.
RED (V.O.)
Not a brassiere to be seen, nipples poking out at the world. Jeezus,
pleeze-us. Back in my day, a woman out in public like that would
have been arrested and given a sanity hearing.
283 EXT -- PARK -- DUSK 283
Red finds the park filled with HIPPIES. Hanging out. Happening.
Here's the source of the music: a radio. A HIPPIE GIRL gyrates
to the Beatles, stoned, in her own world.
RED (V.O.)
They're calling this the Summer of Love. Summer of Loonies, you
ask me.
284 INT -- PAROLE OFFICE -- DAY 284
Red sits across from his PAROLE OFFICER. The P.O. is filling
out his report.
P.O.
You staying out of the bars, Red?
RED
Yes sir. That I am.
P.O.
How you doing otherwise? Adjusting okay?
RED
Things got different out here.
P.O.
Tell me about it. Young punks protesting the war. You imagine?
Even my own kid. Oughtta bust his fuckin' skull.
RED
Guess the world moved on.
285 INT -- FOODWAY -- DAY 285
Bagging groceries. CHILDREN underfoot. One points a toy gun at
Red, pumping the trigger. Red focuses on the gun, listening to
it CLICKETY-CLACK. Sparky wheel grinding.
The kids get swept off by MOM. Red starts bagging the next
customer. SLOW PUSH IN on Red. Surrounded by MOTION and NOISE.
Feeling like the eye of a hurricane. People everywhere, whipping
around him like a gale. Strange. Loud. Dizzying. It gets distorted
and weird, slow and thick, pressing in on him from all sides.
The noise level intensifies. The hollering of children deepens
and distends into LOW EERIE HOWLS.
He's in the grip of a major anxiety attack. Tries to shake himself
out of it. Can't. Fumbles the final items into the bag. Walks
away. Trying not to panic. Trying not to run.
He makes his way through the store. Blinking sweat. He bumps
into a lady's cart, mumbles an apology, keeps going. Breaks into
a trot. Down the aisle, cut to the left, through the door into
the back rooms, faster and faster, running now, slamming through
a door marked "Employees Only" into --
286 INT -- EMPLOYEE RESTROOM -- DAY 286
-- where he slams the door and leans heavily against it, shutting
everything out, breathing heavily. Alone now.
He goes to the sink, splashes his face, tries to calm down. He
can still hear them out there. They won't go away. He glances
around the restroom. Small. Not small enough.
He enters a stall. Locks the door. Puts the toilet lid down and
sits on the john. Better. He can actually reach out and touch
the walls now. They're close. Safe. Almost small enough. He draws
his feet up so he can't be seen if somebody walks in.
He'll just sit here for a while. Until he calms down.
287 EXT -- STREET -- DUSK 287
Red is walking home.
RED (V.O.)
There is a harsh truth to face. No way I'm gonna make it on the
outside.
He pauses at a pawnshop window. An array of handguns.
RED (V.O.)
All I do anymore is think of ways to break my parole.
The SHOPKEEPER appears at the glass, locking the door and
flipping the sign: CLOSED.
288 INT -- RED'S ROOM -- NIGHT 288
Red lies smoking in bed. Unable to sleep.
RED (V.O.)
Terrible thing, to live in fear. Brooks Hatlen knew it. Knew it
all too well. All I want is to be back where things make sense.
Where I won't have to be afraid all the time.
He glances up at the ceiling beam. "Brooks Hatlen was here."
RED (V.O.)
Only one thing stops me. A promise I made to Andy.
289 EXT -- COUNTRY ROAD -- MORNING 289
A pickup truck rattles up the road trailing dust and pulls to
a stop. Red hops off the back, waves his thanks. The truck
drives on. Red starts walking. PAN TO a roadside sign: BUXTON.
290 EXT -- MAINE COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY 290
High white clouds in a blazing blue sky. The trees fiery with
autumn color. Red walks the fields and back-roads, cheap
compass in hand. Looking for a certain hayfield.
291 EXT -- COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY 291
Walking. Searching. The day turning late. Red finds himself
staring at a distant field. There's a long rock wall, like
something out o f a Robert Frost poem. Big oak tree. Red checks
his compass. North end. He crosses a dirt road into the field.
292 EXT -- HAYFIELD -- DAY 292
Red walks the long rock wall, nearing the tree. A squirrel scolds
him from a low branch, scurries up higher. Red studies the base
of the wall. Nothing unusual here. Just a bunch of rocks set in
stone. He sighs. Fool's errand. Turns to go.
Something catches his eye. He walks back, squats, peering closer.
Wets a fingertip and rubs a stone. A layer of dust comes off.
Volcanic glass. Gleaming black. He tries to get the rock out,
anticipation growing. It won't come; it's too smooth. He pulls
a pocketknife and levers the rock free. It tumbles at his feet,
leaving a ragged hole.
Red leans down and solves the mystery at last, staring at the
object buried under the rock. Stunned. It's an envelope wrapped
in plastic. Written on it is a single word: "Red."
Red pulls the envelope out and rises. He just stares at it for
a while, almost afraid to open it. But open it he does. Inside
is a smaller envelope and a letter. Red begins to read:
ANDY (V.O.)
Dear Red. If you're reading this, you've gotten out. And if you've
come this far, maybe you're willing to come a little further.
You
remember the name of the town, don't you? I could use a good man
to help me get my project on wheels. I'll keep an eye out for
you and the chessboard ready.
(beat)
Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things,
and no good thing ever dies. I will be hoping that this letter
finds you, and finds you well. Your friend. Andy.
By now, tears are spilling silently down Red's cheeks. He opens
the other envelope and fans out a stack of new fifty- dollar bills.
Twenty of them. A thousand dollars.
293 INT -- RED'S ROOM -- DAY (1967) 293
Red is dressed in his suit. He finishes knotting his tie, puts
his hat on. His bag is by the door. He takes one last look around.
Only one thing left to do. He pulls a wooden chair to the center
of the room and gazes up at the ceiling beam.
RED (V.O.)
Get busy living or get busy dying. That is goddamn right.
He steps up on the chair. It wobbles under his weight.
294 INT -- BREWSTER -- RED'S DOOR -- DAY (1967) 294
The door opens. Red exits with his bag and heads down the stairs,
leaving the door open. CAMERA PUSHES through, BOOMING
UP to the ceiling beam which reads: "Brooks Hatlen was here."
A new message has been carved alongside the old: "So was
Red."
295 INT -- GREYHOUND BUS STATION -- DAY (1967) 295
TRACKING SHOT reveals a long line of people at the counter.
RED (V.O.)
For the second time in my life, I am guilty of committing a crime.
CAMERA brings us to Red, next in line, bag by his feet.
RED (V.O.)
Parole violation. I doubt they'll toss up any roadblocks for that.
Not for an old crook like me.
RED
(steps up)
McNary, Texas?
296 EXT -- TRAVELING SHOT -- DAY (1967) 296
A gorgeous New England landscape whizzes by, fields and trees
a blur of motion. ANGLE SHIFTS to reveal a Greyhound Sceni-
Cruiser barreling up the road, pulling abreast of us. CAMERA
TRAVELS from window to window, passing faces. We finally come
to Red gazing out at the passing landscape.
RED (V.O.)
I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought
in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel,
a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is
uncertain...
297 THE BUS 297
ROARS past camera, dwindling to a mere speck on the horizon.
RED (V.O.)
I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend
and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been
in my dreams.
(beat)
I hope.
298 EXT -- BEACH -- WIDE PANORAMIC SHOT -- DAY (1967) 298
A distant boat lies on its side in the sand like an old wreck
that's been left to rot in the sun. There's someone out there.
299 CLOSER ON BOAT 299
A MAN is meticulously stripping the old paint and varnish by
hand, face hidden with goggles and kerchief mask.
Red appears b.g., a distant figure walking out across the sand,
wearing his cheap suit and carrying his cheap bag.
The man on the boat pauses. Turns slowly around. Red arrives
with a smile as wide as the horizon. The other man raises his
goggles and pulls down his mask. Andy, of course.
ANDY
You look like a man who knows how to get things.
RED
I'm known to locate certain things from time to time.
Red shrugs off his jacket and picks up a sander. Together, they
start sanding the hull as we fade out
THE END
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