What Reviewers and Critics Say:
“Just as ‘Dr. Strangelove,’ with its extreme and driven characters presented a world too absurd to be real and too real to be dismissed offhand, so A Nuclear Tide, The Screenplay challenges us to try and make sense of the inconceivable yet undeniable.” Keith Martin Gordey, Santa Fe playwright, author and screenwriter.
“The Foyts have performed an unlikely marriage of history, fiction, athletics and environmental sensitivity...” Joe Henderson, Runner’s World author.
“How appropriate it is that running is used as a medium for focusing on some of today’s crucial issues. In many ways, this screenplay relates to the true story of Pheidippides, the runner who brought the news of the survival of Western Civilization.” Jeff Galloway, 1972 Olympian.
A Nuclear Tide, The Screenplay
by
Lois Foyt and Jon Foyt
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 with Writers Guild of America, West Registration # 1447454, by Lois Foyt and Jon Foyt
All characters in this Screenplay, which is an adaptation of the published novel, Marathon, My Marathon, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free eScreenplay. You are welcome to share it with your friends. Movie Producers who wish to obtain Production Rights to this Screenplay may contact the authors.
At Smashwords.com you can discover other works co-written by these authors.
FADE IN:
EXT. - CALDERA APACHE INDIAN RESERVATION – 1995 - NIGHT
TRIBAL HEADQUARTERS BUILDING
INT. - CONFERENCE ROOM
The Tribal Council of nine Governors and the Tribal Matriarch are meeting around a conference table. Behind them are the American Flag, the Zia Flag of New Mexico and the Caldera Apache Crest.
THE GOVERNORS
The governors all talk at once until Governor Arrow bangs on the table.
GOVERNOR ARROW
Look, the Great White Father in Washington can’t find any place to bury his nuclear waste. No other place will take the stuff.
GOVERNOR GREAT ELK
(sarcastically)
So, now they’re down to us Indians.
GOVERNOR BLACK CLOUD
Even the Sioux up in South Dakota have turned them down.
GOVERNOR ARROW
(confidentially)
But listen, they’re talking a lot of money if we’ll take the stuff.
GOVERNOR GREAT ELK
And where would they have us bury it?
GOVERNOR ARROW
Ojo Caliente Canyon.
GOVERNOR BLACK CLOUD
But Ojo Caliente Canyon’s our burial ground at the foot of our sacred Buffalo Mountain. We can’t disturb our ancestors’ resting place.
MATRIARCH MOMADEER
Matriarch Momadeer, elderly and frail, stands. A hush settles over the meeting room as all eyes turn toward her.
MATRIARCH MOMADEER
(in a slow and deliberate voice)
No amount of the white man’s money will convince me that their toxic stuff is safe for our children and their children.
(looking hard at Governor Arrow)
Arrow, you tell the Great White Father in Washington to take his spent uranium oxide pellets stuffed inside those zirconium alloy rods--bundled in steel tanks filled with helium--and stick them up his ass.
THE GOVERNORS
Governor Arrow nods his assent, signaling a “thumbs-down.”
GOVERNOR BLACK CLOUD
(emphatically, conclusively)
I don’t care how much money they’ll give us. Arrow, you tell ’em to ship all that shit somewhere else.
All the tribal governors nod their agreement.
CUT TO:
EXT. - DESERTED MAIN STREET - MARATHON, TEXAS - MORNING
Wind blows tumbleweeds and dust across the old highway running through town as, off in the distance, we see a dark Mercedes approach.
ABANDONED BANK BUILDING
The car slows to a stop in front of an abandoned bank building marked “First National Bank of Marathon, 1896.” A man steps out of the Mercedes.
THE MAN
Lawrence Masterson, handsome, middle-aged, clean-shaven, piercing eyes, dressed in a three-piece suit, looks like an Eastern corporate executive, out of place in this western ghost town. Lawrence looks at his folded road map marked “Texas.”
ROAD MAP
We see a map of Texas showing a number of “X’s” across the dots of town names. North of the Big Bend National Park is a dot labeled “Marathon.”
LAWRENCE
Lawrence surveys the streetscape.
DESERTED MAIN STREET
SERIES OF SHOTS
A GHOST TOWN OF ABANDONED BUILDINGS VINTAGE 1890’S TO 1920:
A CARNEGIE LIBRARY, ITS DOORS NAILED SHUT
AN OLD HOTEL, WEEDS GROWING IN ITS LAWN, ITS SIGN WITH THE LETTERS “SHEPARD HOTEL” FADING WITH TIME.
THERE IS NO VEHICULAR TRAFFIC.
MERCEDES
A tumbleweed blows under Lawrence’s car and sticks there.
LAWRENCE
Lawrence gets out of the car, bends over and extricates the dry weed, sending it on its way in the wind. He watches it tumble past the abandoned wooden train station. He reaches into the front seat of the car and picks up the Texas road map.
ROAD MAP
In Lawrence’s hand we see a felt-tipped pen begin to draw an “X” across the town’s name. But he stops and looks up as, off-screen, we hear the sputtering engine sound of an old Jeep.
AN OLD JEEP, LAWRENCE AND AN OLD PROSPECTOR
A battered and rusty Jeep loaded with pick axes, gas cans, water bottles and tools, stops next to Lawrence. An old prospector, a mongrel dog by his side, is at the wheel.
OLD PROSPECTOR AND LAWRENCE
OLD PROSPECTOR
Lost?
LAWRENCE
No.
(hesitating)
Just disappointed. This...
(gesturing about.)
...is a ghost town.
OLD PROSPECTOR
Mines played out, they did. Yars ago. Still some silver, maybe, in all dem mine tunnels.
(gestures to the south.)
Down thar and across the Rio Grande in Mexico.
LAWRENCE
I’m not looking for silver.
OLD PROSPECTOR
What, then?
LAWRENCE
(downcast, slowly)
A new beginning, you might say. A place to start over. I used to be...
OLD PROSPECTOR
So did this here town...used to be...
The Old Prospector attempts to start the engine of the old jeep. It revs, misses, revs again. He calls out as he starts to drive off.
OLD PROSPECTOR (cont’d)
...used to be a center for West Texas. Silver mines, cattle ranches, even a rubber plant and, yeah, phonograph wax, too...you name it...
LAWRENCE
(laughs doubtfully.)
MERCEDES
Lawrence climbs back into his car and slowly drives off to the west, amidst blowing tumbleweeds.
TITLES:
Titles begin to play across the screen as Lawrence’s car drives slowly off into the distance.
HIGHWAY WEST
As the Director’s name appears on the screen, we see the Mercedes stop, turn around and head back toward Marathon.
ROADSIDE TEXAS HISTORIC MARKER
The Mercedes pulls off the old highway and stops next to the roadside marker. Lawrence gets out of the car.
LAWRENCE
LAWRENCE
(mumbling)
Rubber...phonograph wax...poor old guy’s lost it.
HISTORIC MARKER
A BRONZE PLAQUE LABELLED “MARATHON, TEXAS” HAS BEEN ERECTED BY “DAUGHTERS OF THE ALAMO.”
LAWRENCE (O.S.)
(reading, as we, too, read the marker)
Marathon, Texas, founded by Galveston Sea Captain Albion E. Shepard in 1896, named by him for Marathon, Greece because of its similar terrain. At the turn of the 20th century, it became a center for processing the local guayule shrub into rubber and the candelilla cactus into wax for Edison’s Gramophone cylinders.
LAWRENCE
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
(slowly and profoundly)
By God, I think this is the place!
Lawrence looks toward heaven, then back toward Marathon and makes a vow.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
I can do more here for society than I ever could at IBM. I’ll solve the unsolvable...the problem nobody wants to deal with.
(growing enraged)
Downsize me...those bastards...lay me off...after twenty-five years of corporate loyalty. All I did for them, they shoulda made me CEO.
Lawrence clenches his fist and pounds the car hood.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
They’ll see now!
Lawrence grows calmer, lovingly pats the historical marker.
LAWRENCE
Thanks, Capt. Shepard. Now, out here in what was once your old town, it’s going to be my country, my rules...my Marathon!
CUT TO:
“One Year Later”
EXT. - STATE HIGHWAY LEADING INTO MARATHON - DAY
PICKUP TRUCK
A silver pickup truck, a stainless steel sculpture riding in its bed, negotiates the curves and rugged hills of the trafficless highway through the vast nothingness of West Texas.
SERIES OF ACTION SHOTS
A COYOTE ROAMING
A JAVELINA SNIFFING
A BAND OF PRONGHORN ANTELOPE LOOKING UP, WATCHING THE PICKUP TRUCK PASS
AND A DEER WITH FAWN BOUNDING ACROSS THE ROAD.
PICKUP TRUCK
Through the windshield we see two good looking women in their late thirties, both trim and athletic. Cotton is driving and Amanda is in the passenger seat.
AMANDA AND COTTON
AMANDA
(amused)
This is the part of the country where the New York to LAX jetliners close the curtains and play the in-flight movie.
COTTON
This countryside’s beautiful, Amanda. No traffic...a great place for our marathon tomorrow. It looks like Greece.
AMANDA
You ran your first marathon there, didn’t you, Cotton?
COTTON
Yes...same course as Pheidippides ran in 490 B.C. to bring the Athenians news of the Greek victory over the Persians and the triumph of Western Civilization. “Nike!” was his cry.
AMANDA
(deadpan)
But then he fell dead.
PICKUP TRUCK
The pickup truck picks up speed.
AMANDA AND COTTON
Amanda points at the road ahead
AMANDA
(alarmed)
Cotton, slow down! That curve...
CURVE IN THE ROAD
COTTON
Cotton’s fingers grip the steering wheel.
COTTON
We met in Greece, you know. He was from Montana.
(tears coming)
Cotton slows the pickup. Pulling off the road, she stops and looks over at Amanda.
COTTON (cont’d)
We were both so young and carefree. He was such a reckless fool, going off and dying in Viet Nam.
(more tears)
I gave up our baby...their counseling. I wanted an abortion, but not in Catholic Boston. Everyone said adoption was right for an unwed mother.
AMANDA
Oh Cotton, life’s not fair. You’ve got to believe that his life goes on with your child. Ever wonder...
Cotton looks pensively out the pickup truck’s window.
COTTON
Searching...always searching.
Amanda hugs Cotton.
COTTON (cont’d)
I had to get out of Boston...all those years ago. I had to find a place to start again. That’s why I came west.
Amanda gestures to Cotton’s sculpture in the bed of the pickup truck.
AMANDA
And Santa Fe welcomed you, and you became their famous sculptor.
COTTON
That’s how I met Lawrence.
AMANDA
Our race director?
COTTON
He was buying outdoor sculptures for IBM office buildings.
AMANDA
Aren’t you excited about unveiling your lovely work that he commissioned you to do for his town?
COTTON
He’s always been very supportive of my career.
AMANDA
Did you have to sleep with him?
COTTON
(unnerved, but a quick recovery)
I’ve been saving him for you.
Amanda reacts to Cotton’s evasive statement with an all-knowing smile.
AMANDA
How old is he anyway?
COTTON
Fifty-something.
AMANDA
(frowning)
That’s really old. Is he married?
Cotton starts to turn the pickup back onto the highway.
COTTON
His wife died. Right after IBM laid him off.
AMANDA
Great...more baggage.
COTTON
I was a little worried about him, still am, but he seems to be bouncing back...what with this marathon he’s organized for tomorrow.
AMANDA
Look up ahead. A hitchhiker.
THE HITCHHIKER
Standing there barefoot in running shorts and singlet revealing his muscular build, tattoos, long hair blowing in the wind, he personifies a vagabond drifter.
COTTON AND AMANDA
COTTON
He’s a runner.
AMANDA
How can you tell?
COTTON
Leg muscles.
AMANDA
Ooohh! Cute buns, too. Let’s pick him up.
Cotton steers the pickup onto the shoulder of the road.
AMANDA (cont’d)
(calling out the window)
Going to Marathon for the race?
(eagerly, before he can answer)
Hop in...the back, I guess. What’s your name?
HITCHHIKER
He vaults into the pickup truck bed as Amanda slides open the cab’s back window.
HITCHHIKER
My name’s Keith, and I hope you two aren’t like that last bitch who gave me a ride. She thought her money bought her a place on the planet.
AMANDA
Cotton’s a famous sculptor. You’re sitting next to Tides, her beautiful artistic expression of the re-birth of Marathon, Texas.
KEITH
(looking at Amanda)
You famous?
AMANDA
(blushing)
Are you planning to run the race barefoot?
Keith gestures toward a hillside.
A HERD OF PRONGHORN GRAZE NEAR YELLOW ROAD CONSTRUCTION BULLDOZERS AND GIANT EARTH-MOVING EQUIPMENT.
THE PICKUP TRUCK
KEITH
See over there. Those antelope don’t need hundred-dollar running shoes anymore than I will tomorrow.
Cotton drives on and Amanda tilts her outside rear-view mirror to afford her the best view of the hitchhiker.
AMANDA
(whispering to Cotton)
I wish I could sculpt this man’s wanderlust.
COTTON
Steady, girl.
CUT TO:
INT. - SAN ANTONIO AIRPORT BAGGAGE CLAIM - DAY
Two men each reach for luggage off the conveyor belt, grabbing for the same bag, on which is printed “Running is my Game.” Their hands meet. Riley is slim and forty-something. Howard is also trim and seventy-something.
RILEY
(insistent)
Mine.
HOWARD
(determined)
No, this bag’s mine.
Both men step back, eye each other and laugh. Riley extends his hand to shake Howard’s.
RILEY
The name’s Riley. Are you by any chance headed for the race in Marathon?
HOWARD
(happily)
Howard here. Yes, I sure am. You know, we could share a rental car, save some money.
RILEY
Good idea. I know, let’s get us one of those snappy red roadsters.
The two men collect the rest of their luggage.
AIRPORT CAR RENTAL COUNTER
The two men sign papers for their car.
FREEWAY LEADING OUT OF SAN ANTONIO
We see a bright red convertible heading west.
ROADSTER, TOP DOWN
RILEY AND HOWARD
Riley is the driver.
RILEY
I’m an antique dealer from St. Paul...well, it’s really my wife Betty’s shop. Say, how’d you hear about this race?
HOWARD
I knew Masterson in New York before he got laid off in IBM’s downsizing. You see, I run a fitness center there in Poughkeepsie. I told him to get into running to control his anger against Big Blue.
RILEY
Did it work?
HOWARD
For a while, I suppose, but then his wife died and...well, he left town. I didn’t hear from him...until he sent me a race entry. You?
RILEY
I travel a lot looking for a bargain to buy for Betty’s shop...tax write-off, you know.
HOWARD
(studying Texas road map)
Marathon’s in the middle of nowhere. I can’t imagine what Masterson’s up to out here.
RILEY
What would I do if Betty downsized me?
(pausing)
Yeah, what does a man do at mid-life when he loses his job?
HOWARD
Be interesting to find out.
CUT TO:
INT. - LAWRENCE MASTERSON’S LIVING ROOM IN THE RESTORED SHEPARD HOUSE - AFTERNOON
A BANNER PROCLAIMING “MARATHON CHAMBER OF COMMERCE” STRETCHES ABOVE THE FIREPLACE MANTLE.
A DRIED TUMBLEWEED SPRAY-PAINTED GOLD HANGS FROM THE CHANDELIER.
ON LAWRENCE’S DESK SITS A STACK OF RACE ENTRY FORMS AND NUMBERS AWAITING TOMORROW’S RUNNERS.
Five men are assembling as Lawrence glad-hands and cajoles each.
THE ASS-KICKERS: LAWRENCE MASTERSON; GAGE HARTE, RANCHER; JOHN VOSS, BANKER; MONTGOMERY (MONTY) WILSON, HOMEBUILDER; PHILIP LOPATE, HOTELIER; BILL YATES, P.R. MAN
Lawrence is in a three-piece suit, and the other five men have attired themselves in new western wear, leather cowboy boots and black Stetsons. Five identical long trail coats drape from a deer-horn rack.
LAWRENCE
(tough)
To business! Unlike those corporate committee meetings most of us attended, you five ass-kickers always get right down to business. No politics...no BS...just action.
GAGE
(speaking gruffly.)
That’s why I joined your Assemblage of Six Steersmen or, as you put it, Lawrence, we “ASS-Kickers.” No rancher ever drove cattle by committee.
The men all express their agreement. Gage points out the window.
MARATHON PARK
We see ranch hands stringing the starting banner for the “Marathon of Marathon” from one 100-year-old cottonwood tree to another.
THE ASS-KICKERS
GAGE (cont’d)
As you see, my boys don’t waste time.
JOHN
(smooth and icy)
You guys are why I’m here, why I left Citibank to set up our new Marathon National Bank with online banking. We’ve got over a billion in deposits from all around the world.
PHILIP
(fastidious)
And my restored Shepard Hotel awaits the runners. Done in less than a year...from ruins to ready, thanks to your invitation to leave DC and come out here, Lawrence.
LAWRENCE
(gesturing to entry forms on his desk)
Five hundred running tomorrow, Phil.
BILL
(enthusiastically)
My story in the New York Times brought ’em from all across the country. Businessmen, investors...someone will see the opportunities here, start up the old rubber plant.
MONTY
Yeah, and buy more of my new Wilson houses. Where else in the country can you get a quality 2,000 square foot house for under a hundred thou?
(adding with a laugh)
And I don’t have any trouble getting building permits! Because you, Lawrence, arranged for my wife to be city hall.
(gesturing toward an adjacent room)
SIGN OVER THE DOOR TO THE ADJACENT ROOM: “MARATHON CITY HALL, ROSE WILSON, MAYOR.”
THE ASS-KICKERS
LAWRENCE
We still need to get an online discount brokerage firm to relocate here if we’re really going to put this old town on today’s cyberspace map. Voss...Yates...?
JOHN AND BILL
BILL
Grrreattt! I’ll get a feature story in USA Today...and on CNN, too.
We see Yates punch onto his PDA a reminder to himself.
LAWRENCE
OK, men, tomorrow’s our big day. 500 runners, led by Cotton the Olympic runner, will be here. She’s also going to dedicate her monumental sculpture, signifying our town’s rebirth. I mean, tomorrow’s only the beginning of BIG things for Marathon.
The group of ASS-Kickers breaks up, with congratulatory slaps on the back and words of “great going, Lawrence.” All grab their trail coats to leave, except Rancher Gage Harte and Lawrence.
PORCH OF RESTORED SHEPARD HOUSE
BILL AND MONTY
BILL
(puzzled)
What does he mean, Monty, only the beginning?
MONTY
(reassuring)
I don’t know, but so far Lawrence hasn’t done anything contrary to our common cause of re-building this town. Do you notice how he looks at that tumbleweed of his? He’s not drifting anymore. He’s put down roots. I trust him.
BACK TO:
SHEPARD HOUSE LIVING ROOM
LAWRENCE AND GAGE
GAGE
(gruff, low voice)
My boys tell me that the first silver mine tunnel is ready.
LAWRENCE
(anticipatory)
And my guy at the Department Of Energy tells me the trucks with the...stuff...are ready to roll.
GAGE
(warning)
This better work, Lawrence. Our future’s riding on you.
LAWRENCE
Trust me, Gage.
CUT TO:
EXT. - SEMINOLE CANYON STATE PARK CAMPGROUND – EARLY EVENING
A SIGN POSTED AT THE CAMPGROUND ENTRANCE SAYS “FULL UP.”
A Ranger directs a car with Vermont license plates, driven by Megan, a twenty-something runner, in the direction of a sign marked “Overflow Campground.”
OVERFLOW CAMPGROUND
MEGAN
Unpacking her camping gear, Megan sets up a ramada for the night and prepares her pasta primavera on her camp stove.
ARRIVING VAN
A van with Massachusetts plates pulls into the adjacent campsite.
JEREMY
Jeremy, a lean runner, twenty-something, wearing a “Boston Marathon” T-shirt, jumps out.
JEREMY
Smells awfully good.
MEGAN AND JEREMY
MEGAN
You headed to Marathon, too?
JEREMY
Yeah.
MEGAN
It’ll be my first...if I make the 26 miles to the finish. But you’ve run a marathon before.
JEREMY
(proudly, then hopefully)
Five actually. I’m trying to run one in every state before I’m fifty.
Megan gestures toward the food she is fixing.
MEGAN
I’ve got enough carbohydrates here for an army. Share?
Jeremy smiles and, in the gathering dusk, begins to build a campfire.
CAMPFIRE
The flames rise, accentuating their night togetherness.
MEGAN AND JEREMY
Megan hands Jeremy a plate of pasta while he uncorks a bottle of wine.
JEREMY
Why’d you come so far from New England to run your first marathon?
MEGAN
I couldn’t afford to go to Greece and run the original course. I was delighted to find its namesake here in our own country.
JEREMY
You’re in medical school...sticker on your windshield.
MEGAN
(nodding)
I’m specializing in women’s fitness and the benefits of exercise.
JEREMY
Aren’t genes the real determinant?
MEGAN
Fast runners enjoy certain genetic traits...greater lung capacity, for example.
(pausing)
But genes are another reason I’ve come west...I want to find out more about myself, and this’s where the search for my genealogical roots is leading me.
JEREMY
One of your ancestors fight with Davy Crockett at the Alamo?
MEGAN
(serious and determined)
I don’t know, but I’m going to keep searching until I find some answers. I want to find my birth mother...Now I’m going to get my sleep. Big day coming up.
CUT TO:
EXT. - AMTRAK TRAIN ENGINE - DAY
AT THE ENTRANCE DOOR TO THE AMTRAK ENGINE WE SEE A SIGN “NO PASSENGERS.”
MEL BRODY AND CONDUCTOR
Hollywood stuntman Mel Brody, duffel bag over his shoulder, pleads, gesturing emphatically, with African-American Amtrak conductor Roosevelt Jones.
ROOSEVELT
I don’t care if you’re Cecil B. hisself. You can’t go up there!
MEL
How’d you like to be in my next movie, Mr. Roosevelt? Play yourself...save the damsel in distress tied up on the tracks as the engine bears down on her.
Roosevelt proudly rubs a brass button on his uniform
ROOSEVELT
In my uniform?
MEL
Of course...my script calls for a conversation with your engineer.
ROOSEVELT
Mr. Judy? Well, okay. He won’t like it, but okay...just this once.
CATWALK
Roosevelt leads Mel along the narrow walkway next to the noisy diesel engine to the cab.
AMTRAK ENGINE CAB
ROOSEVELT, MR. JUDY AND MEL
ROOSEVELT (cont’d)
This man’s going to make a movie...
THE SHINING STEEL RAILS AHEAD OF THE ENGINE
MEL (O.S.)
(pleasantly)
Just smell the sage...the coriander...the oregano...an aromatic dressing for a West Texas salad.
AMTRAK ENGINE CAB
ROOSEVELT, MR. JUDY AND MEL
MR. JUDY
What’s your destination?
MEL
Marathon. Not far now.
MR. JUDY
Don’t stop there any more. Used to...
ROOSEVELT
Say, we’ve had a lot of requests recently to stop in Marathon. I told headquarters in DC, but they said they didn’t have anything to do with the Greek railroad.
MEL
I have to get off at Marathon. I’m running in the race, and I always surprise my girlfriend, Cotton, by arriving at races in an unexpected way. Once I even skydived to the starting line. This time, Mr. Judy, I want to come in on your silver Sunset Limited.
Mr. Judy blows the train whistle three times and smiles at Mel.
MR. JUDY
Well, why didn’t you say so...just this once...for Cotton.
HIGHWAY RAILROAD CROSSING
Megan’s car and Jeremy’s van pull to a stop at the crossing as the Amtrak whizzes past.
RED ROADSTER
A bright red roadster, top down, Riley driving, Howard by his side, races down the highway parallel to the Amtrak roadbed.
JEREMY AND MEGAN
Jeremy leans out his window and signals to Megan for them to join the race. He revs his engine.
JEREMY
Come on! We’ve got us a race to Marathon.
BACK TO:
AMTRAK ENGINE CAB
From the window in the engine cab, we see the three vehicles speeding along the adjacent highway.
ROOSEVELT, MR. JUDY AND MEL
MR. JUDY
Hey, that van’s taken the lead.
ROOSEVELT
(excited)
I’m going to win our bet.
MEL
There’s still time for my red car to make its move.
THROUGH THE ENGINE CAB WINDOW, OFF IN THE DISTANCE, WE SEE A BEVY OF YELLOW BULLDOZERS AND EARTH MOVING EQUIPMENT.
MR. JUDY
Mr. Judy moves a lever.
MR. JUDY
Hollywood man, I’m going too fast to stop. I’ll slow a bit, but you’re going to have to make your leap.
CUT TO:
EXT. - SHEPARD HOTEL PORTALE AND LAWN - MIDDAY
RUNNERS WEARING T-SHIRTS AND RUNNING SHORTS
Gathering on the hotel’s portale and out on the lawn, runners drink beer, snack and talk. Off camera we hear the Amtrak whistle blowing repeatedly.
BACK TO:
THE AMTRAK SUNSET LIMITED
The train slows as it comes down the tracks. Its engine door opens.
MEL
Mel poises in the door. As the Amtrak passes in front of the Shepard Hotel, duffel bag over his shoulder, he makes his leap. Landing upright, Mel looks around for Cotton as he races toward the hotel. We hear the cheers and shouts of all the runners.
MEL
Cotton darlin’...where are you?
BACK TO:
SHEPARD HOTEL PORTALE AND LAWN
COTTON STANDS IN THE CROWD OF RUNNERS
The runners part, and Cotton smiles a little reluctantly.
COTTON
Oh, Mel. You’ve really done it this time.
The runners around Cotton urge her forward toward Mel.
COTTON AND MEL
Cotton and Mel meet on the lawn of the Shepard Hotel. Mel embraces Cotton passionately as we hear the cheers of the runners.
CUT TO:
INT. - LIVING ROOM OF SHEPARD HOUSE - DAY
LAWRENCE AND GAGE
Lawrence and Gage, sitting at a table, lean intently over topographical maps. Lawrence points to a spot on the map.
LAWRENCE
You’re sure your boys’ve got this first tunnel ready?
GAGE
We’ve followed the DOE’s specs to the letter.
LAWRENCE
There should be no problem then.
Off-screen we hear the Amtrak train whistle blow repeatedly and the sound of steel brakes upon steel wheels as the train slows.
GAGE
What’s the matter with that train?
Off-screen we hear the cheers and raucous sounds of the runners coming from the nearby Shepard Hotel.
LAWRENCE
(curious)
I’d better find out.
We see Lawrence rush from the house and run toward the nearby Shepard Hotel. Gage stands at the door of the house, mouth agape, looking after Lawrence.
CUT TO:
EXT. - PORTALE AND LAWN OF SHEPARD HOTEL - DAY
LAWRENCE AND CROWD OF RUNNERS
Lawrence edges his way through the crowd of boisterous runners, stopping here and there to introduce himself as “The Race Director” and shake a few hands.
LAWRENCE
Anyone seen Cotton?
Several runners point toward the lobby of the Shepard Hotel.
JEREMY
I think she’s checked in.
Lawrence nods at Jeremy and starts into the hotel but is stopped by Howard, who thrusts a draft of beer into Lawrence’s hand.
HOWARD
(exclaiming)
Masterson! Man, it’s good to see you again. How the hell are you? You’re looking great! Remember me...your old coach from Poughkeepsie?
LAWRENCE
(warmly, shaking his hand)
Howard! Jesus...it seems like decades ago...another life...glad you could make it.
HOWARD
Meet Riley. He’s into running and antiques.
Lawrence shakes Riley’s hand.
HOWARD (cont’d)
(jovially)
Hey, speaking of antiques, I’ll bet I’ll be the oldest runner tomorrow.
(more seriously)
Lawrence, you look so great, man! Let me in on your secret...
(in a hushed tone)
...tell me, what are you really up to out here in the middle of nowhere?
Lawrence leans close to Howard.
LAWRENCE
A small group of us are jump-starting this old town, Howard...
putting it and this whole area back on the map, and I mean back on everyone’s map. Stick around after the race. You...and those guys back at IBM are in for a real surprise.
A SECOND STORY WINDOW OF THE HOTEL
The window opens and out flutters a race singlet displaying a royal flush and the words “Las Vegas Marathon,” followed by a woman’s running shorts.
RUNNERS ON THE SHEPARD HOTEL LAWN
From the lawn, hands reach up to grab the descending prizes. Cheers rise from the audience of runners as we see another race T-shirt, this one silk-screened with the Bear Flag of the California Republic and labeled “Los Angeles Marathon” float to the ground. Again, hands extend upward, grabbing for the shirt and racing shorts that follow.
SHEPARD HOTEL LOBBY
The lobby of the restored hotel is a trip back in time—a decor of 1920’s West Texas memorabilia: spurs, lassos, saddles, branding irons, woven baskets of the Terahumara Indians, a miner’s ore car, and a framed portrait of Sea Captain Albion E. Shepard.
LAWRENCE AND DESK CLERK RAFAEL
At the Registration desk, Lawrence confronts Rafael, the young Hispanic desk clerk.
LAWRENCE
(demanding)
Which room is Cotton in?
Rafael eyes his computer monitor.
RAFAEL
Room 21, Mr. Masterson...up the stairs on the right.
HOTEL STAIRCASE
Without hesitation, Lawrence turns and bounds up the old wooden staircase, two at a time.
HOTEL UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR
At the top of the stairs, Lawrence stops and peers down the corridor. He hesitates, suddenly looking apprehensive, even reluctant to move on. But slowly he walks to Room 21, raises his hand to knock. In mid-air his hand stops and he retrieves a handkerchief. He wipes nervous perspiration from his brow.
DOOR OF ROOM 21
MEL (O.S.)
(from inside room 21)
How’d you like that entrance, Cotton?
Summoning his nerve, Lawrence knocks loudly.
MEL (cont’d) (O.S.)
(yelling out)
Get off the set! We didn’t order room service.
INSIDE HOTEL ROOM 21
Cotton and Mel are in bed, he on top of her. We hear Lawrence knock again. Mel turns his head toward the door.
MEL
(yelling out)
We’re in the middle of perfecting a serious scene here. Go away!
Lawrence’s knock repeats, softer this time.
Cotton peers at the door.
COTTON
Who is it?
HOTEL UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR, DOOR OF ROOM 21
LAWRENCE
Lawrence nervously shifts his weight.
LAWRENCE
(responding, a little embarrassed)
Cotton...are you in there? It’s me.
COTTON (O.S.)
(puzzled)
Who? Who’s there?
Lawrence wipes his brow, starts to leave, changes his mind, returns to the door, looks troubled.
LAWRENCE
Ah...it’s me...Larry.
INSIDE HOTEL ROOM 21
COTTON AND MEL
Cotton twists out from under Mel and jumps from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her. She goes to the door. Slowly she opens the door. No one is there.
HOTEL UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR
Cotton steps into the corridor and looks right, but no one is there. Then she looks left. From Cotton’s P.O.V., we see the image of a departing Lawrence fleeing onto the rear iron fire escape.
COTTON
(to herself, softly, tenderly)
Oh...Lawrence.
INSIDE HOTEL ROOM 21
COTTON AND MEL
Hurriedly Cotton returns to the hotel room, drops the sheet to the floor and pulls on the hotel’s terry-cloth robe and cinches the tie around her waist.
MEL
Come back here, Cotton. You’re going to miss the climax.
HOTEL UPSTAIRS CORRIDOR
COTTON
Barefoot, Cotton races down the corridor and onto the fire escape, descending the steps quickly.
COTTON
(calling out, pleading)
Lawrence! Wait! Lawrence...come back.
CUT TO:
EXT. - REAR OF SHEPARD HOTEL - DAY
COTTON
Barefoot, Cotton sprints across a gravel alley and through a weedy lot. She winces in pain as her foot grazes a prickly pear cactus. She keeps on running.
SHEPARD HOUSE AND LAWRENCE
Ahead, we see Lawrence’s back as he opens the door and enters his house, disappearing inside, heedless of Cotton’s calling out.
COTTON
Favoring her foot, Cotton runs after Lawrence.
COTTON
(calling out)
Lawrence...oh Lawrence!
SHEPARD HOUSE FRONT DOOR
COTTON
Cotton pounds loudly on the door. The door opens.
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
Lawrence steps out onto the porch, his head down. He sees Cotton’s bare feet.
LAWRENCE
(sheepish at first, then recovering his presence)
Cotton, you crazy woman! Where are your shoes? You can’t run 26 miles barefoot.
COTTON
That drifter Amanda and I picked up outside town said he could do it.
Cotton smiles up at Lawrence and then brushes away a tear of pain. Lawrence looks closer at Cotton’s foot.
LAWRENCE
My God, Cotton! You’re bleeding.
Lawrence reaches toward Cotton, sweeps her up in his arms and carries her through the door into his house.
SHEPARD HOUSE LIVING ROOM
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
Lawrence carries Cotton across the room and gently places her in his massive leather desk chair.
LAWRENCE
I’ll get some warm water to bathe your foot.
Lawrence leaves.
Cotton surveys his desk.
AN ANTIQUE LEATHER-BOUND BOOK LABELLED “DIARY OF ALBION E. SHEPARD”
Cotton opens the book and thumbs through the pages, stopping at an entry.
COTTON
(reading softly from Shepard’s diary)
“No water for eight miles...I ran into the village of Pikermi...
Cotton slowly twirls the desk chair around and reads on.
COTTON (cont’d)
“A taverna...the innkeeper offered me cider...A voice came, as if from heaven...the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. She was singing the aria from Mozart’s Don Giovanni.
We see Cotton’s intent look.
COTTON (cont’d)
“Then I saw her...a beautiful Grecian peasant girl...riding a donkey, urging the animal onward, more with her cadence than her willow cane.
Lawrence returns, carrying a pan of water and a towel. He stands quietly, not wanting to interrupt Cotton’s concentration as she continues to read out loud from the diary.
COTTON (cont’d)
“She was my Zerlina. I said to her, ‘Come with me to America. I’ll build you an opera house in my new town of Marathon, Texas. People will come from as far away as El Paso, San Antonio and even New Orleans to hear you sing.’”
LAWRENCE
And he did, right next to his hotel. Shepard went on to complete his run into Athens, arriving as they were dedicating the new Olympic stadium. It was the day before the re-birth of the Olympic Games in 1896.
(explaining)
I found his old diary in the attic when I restored his house.
COTTON
Did she come? Did his Zerlina sing here?
LAWRENCE
Shepard built the opera house all right, but there was a fire.
(looking wistfully at Cotton)
Zerlina never came.
Cotton closes the diary, looks up at Lawrence. Lawrence kneels beside Cotton, places the pan of water on the floor, lifts her foot and slips it into the water.
LAWRENCE
(as if from experience)
Those thorns can have a paralyzing effect if they’re not removed.
Cotton pulls the hem of her robe up, lifts her foot, arches it and wiggles her toes.
COTTON
Everything seems to be working.
Lawrence takes his attention off her foot, his gaze moving up, discovering her ankles, her twitching calf tendon, her inner thigh, partially concealed by the folds of her robe, ultimately meeting her eyes.
He breaks the visual connection and looks down. His hand cups the water and he slowly pours the liquid over her toes. With his finger he traces the droplets as they channel along her arch.
COTTON
Was this Shepard married?
LAWRENCE
(nodding)
But his wife didn’t want to live out here. She went back to Galveston, took their son away with her. He never saw Nathan again.
COTTON
Does our sea captain say how he dealt with life’s shipwrecks?
Suddenly remembering that Cotton gave up her baby for adoption, Lawrence shows sympathy. He reaches up and puts his arm around Cotton, gently squeezing her shoulder.
LAWRENCE
(tenderly)
Shepard writes that we should grow from tragedies. We should search out new horizons.
COTTON
Oh, Lawrence, I may have brought on tragedy when I seduced you that fall afternoon as we hiked the Hudson River Trail...I needed someone to receive my unspoken-for love. That day I didn’t think about you being married.
LAWRENCE
Don’t blame yourself for my wife’s tragic end. She repeatedly accused me of being more in love with IBM than with her...and she was right.
Lawrence stands. He takes the diary from Cotton and holds it as if seeing the words inside.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
I came here seeking a new life, and I’m not about to let past thorns get in my way.
COTTON
I wish I could move on.
Lawrence looks down at Cotton.
LAWRENCE
(slowly, earnestly)
Cotton, let’s pick up where we left off that fall afternoon. Stay here in my new town...my Marathon. I’ll build you an opera house—a magnificent art gallery. Your sculptures will sing from here to Athens.
CUT TO:
INT. - SHEPARD HOTEL BAR - LATE AFTERNOON
RUNNERS IN THE BAR
The bar is crowded with boisterous runners. In the center of the bar is a round antique gaming table, its funnel-like middle is leather-covered with three brass cups and a hole at the bottom. Three white balls sit on its rim.
MEGAN AND MEL
Megan looks at the gaming table and puzzles as to how it works. Mel comes up to her.
MEL
Aren’t you the actress who starred in the film...?
MEGAN
No. I’m Megan, the medical student. And you’re our Amtrak stuntman from Hollywood.
Mel smiles, placing his hand on her arm and point to the gaming table.
MEL
Let me show you how this is played. It’s called “Chusa,” a roulette game played in the old days. I used one like it in one of my movies.
With quick flicks of his wrist Mel spins the three white balls in rapid succession. We see the balls go round and round, slowly descending into the nadir. One disappears through the hole in the bottom, but two land in two of the brass cups.
MEL (cont’d)
Two out of three wins! Congratulations, I just won you the big ranch outside town.
MEGAN
I’ll bet in your movie the loser pulls out his pistol and, right off, there’s a gun battle. You never write dialogue for your characters.
MEL
You’re right, Ms. M.D. In the movies, it’s done with expression, eye movement and body language.
Megan turns to escape.
MEL (cont’d)
You need instruction in movie acting, Ms. OB-GYN. I have a coupla “How-to” films in my room. Care for some personal tutoring?
CUT TO:
INT. - SHEPARD HOUSE LIVING ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
LAWRENCE AT HIS DESK
He listens intently on his telephone to what the caller is relating to him. On a pad of paper he draws an obelisk shaped like the Washington Monument. Lawrence appears pleased with the conversation. He nods, smiles, looks at his watch and hangs up.
BACK TO:
SHEPARD HOTEL BAR
Cotton enters the bar and rushes to Megan’s side.
COTTON, MEGAN AND MEL
COTTON
Zerlina! Fly from this lecherous librettist.
MEL
Cotton, you’re on the wrong set. Go get your own movie.
Off-camera we hear Rafael’s voice.
RAFAEL (O.S.)
Mr. Brody, Mr. Brody, telephone call for Mr. Brody.
Mel waves his hand in the air, signaling.
MEL, RAFAEL, COTTON AND MEGAN
Rafael approaches and hands the cordless to Mel.
MEL
It’s probably Robert Redford.
RAFAEL
It’s Bill Yates...
MEL
My publicist.
(winking at Megan)
Don’t leave. Bill and I’ll find a way to write you into my next movie.
COTTON
(whispering to Megan)
Let me offer you some motherly advice...
CUT TO:
EXT. - MARATHON STREET WITH NEWLY BUILT WILSON HOUSES - LATE AFTERNOON
Bill Yates stands in front of his house, looking up the street and speaking into his cell.
BILL
Over here, it’s the house with the fireplug.
THE FIRE PLUG
Mel comes running up.
MEL AND BILL
BILL (cont’d)
What do you think of my new digs? My office’s inside. Quite a change from my tower suite in LA.
They enter the house and go into Bill’s office.
BILL’S BEDROOM OFFICE
The room is cluttered with a desk, a couple of chairs, computers, fax machines, telephones, file cabinets, and a small refrigerator. Bill gets a bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator and thrusts it into Mel’s hand.
BOTTLE LABEL
Shows a picture of Sherlock Holmes wearing a deerstalker hat with the words “Moriarity’s Pure Spring Water.”
BILL (cont’d)
One of my clients in the town of Moriarity, New Mexico.
MEL
What’s the big mystery here, Bill?
BILL
(troubled...hesitatingly)
I have my suspicions. Can I confide in you?
MEL
P.R. people never have doubts, do they?
Bill points toward the window.
BILL
See that house!
STREETSCAPE AND SHEPARD HOUSE
CUT TO:
INT. - SHEPARD HOUSE LIVING ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON
LAWRENCE AT HIS DESK
Lawrence answers the telephone. He looks worried. He stands. He scatters papers as he searches the top of his desk for a particular one. He finds the paper and looks at it.
PAPER MARKED “CRITICAL TIME SCHEDULE”
LAWRENCE
Lawrence’s eyes narrow and his brow furrows. He appears to be mentally calculating, resulting in an expression of relief of tension.
BACK TO:
BILL’S OFFICE
BILL AND MEL
BILL
That’s Lawrence Masterson’s house...that man’s a zealot, and zealots frighten me.
MEL
Me too. What’s a zealot?
BILL
Publicly he professes to be re-building this remote village into a technological center for the American West...
MEL
And your job is to help him promote the idea and the town.
BILL
He’s got connections in DC and Mexico City that you wouldn’t believe. MIT buddies...Yale classmates...the secret “Skull and Crossbones Society.”
Mel acts disinterested.
BILL (cont’d)
Hell, he’s got a direct Internet connection to the Department Of Energy and even to the White House.
MEL
(skeptical)
You’ve been drinking too many bottles of your Sherlock Holmes mineral water.
BILL
(correcting)
Moriarity...
MEL
Sober up, Bill...you got any clues?
Bill walks over to his cluttered desk and extracts a sheet of laser-printed paper and hands it to Mel.
BILL
See here...I wake up in the middle of the night, fearing an imminent disaster.
MEL
(humorously)
Yeah, it’s called a 26-mile marathon.
BILL
(growing agitated)
I’ve broken into his secure e-mail. There’s something else going on here.
Mel takes the paper from Bill and reads out loud.
MEL
“Affirmative...departure set...all my love. Baby Doe.”
(looking at Bill)
Elementary, Dr. Yates. Some broad is about to visit our Masterson.
BILL
Read on...
MEL
(quoting)
“Are the beds ready?” ...I’d say they’re planning an orgy.
BILL
(deadly serious)
Read the reply.
Bill hands Mel another sheet.
MEL
(quoting)
“Tunnel ready by...”
(pausing)
That’s tomorrow’s date. What tunnel?
BILL
An old mine. Didn’t you see those bulldozers outside of town...I forgot, you were up there in the Amtrak engine obsessed about Cotton.
MEL
Are you obsessed about Masterson?
BILL
I told you, he’s a zealot. We’ve got to learn the real story.
MEL
(more on board)
If you’d like, I’ll persuade Megan at the spaghetti dinner tonight to question him. She’s into dialogue.
CUT TO:
EXT. - TRUCK STAGING AREA - PREVIOUS MORNING
NUCLEAR POWER PLANT
Behind the staging area, off in the distance, are uniquely-shaped stacks of a nuclear power plant.
FOUR 18-WHEELERS
Four 18-wheelers are parked in the truck staging area. The doors of the massive cabs are labeled with the logo and name of a national moving company.
Their flatbed trailers are being loaded with huge round shining metal canisters. We see workers in toxic-proof jump suits, some operating forklift trucks hoisting side panels onto the trailers. Other workers secure the panels in order to conceal the canisters.
INT. - TRUCK STOP RESTAURANT
BURLEY, BUSTER, SNOOKY AND BUTCH
These four truck drivers sit at a table filled with plates of fried eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, biscuits and gravy, waffles and pancakes dripping with syrup and a stack of fried Texas toast. They’re all chain smoking cigarettes even as they shovel food into their mouths.
BURLEY
I know what they got in them tanks out there.
BUSTER
Whatta I care, Burley, so long as we get paid. Anyways, that government dude said there’d be lotsa trips after this ’un.
SNOOKY
Why’d they make us take that special physical exam?
BURLEY
That’s an E.K.G., Snooky. They was measurin’ your heart.
SNOOKY
I gotta as big a heart as any of you guys. Did you see the look Nurse McGuire gave me as she smeared that goo and stuck them cups on my chest.
BUTCH
Yeah, I can think of a coupla places I could stick them suction cups on her.
BURLEY
Listen, guys. They told me this’s an important convoy. I told ’em every trip was important...I got a million miles of safe drivin’ under my belt.
BUTCH
But what’re we really carryin’?
SNOOKY
Yeah, Burley, what’s the big deal?
BURLEY
I got it all figured out. They got flying saucer fuel in them canisters. This Texas place we’re goin is in the middle of nowhere, and you know the government don’t want the people to know about these aliens. This fuel’s their way of sayin’ adios, boys, to them green Martians.
BUTCH
Naw, it’s government-confiscated Arkansas moonshine. They’re gonna bottle it down thar in Texas and sell it back to the Arkies.
Buster slaps the waitress on her fanny as she passes by the table.
BUSTER
Anyways, so long as we get paid. I gotta take care of my needs.
The waitress winks back at him.
BURLEY
OK, lets finish up here and get our thermos of coffee.
BUTCH
And hit the road.
The truckers stand up, burp, pile bacon strips and sausage patties on slices of Texas toast, grab thermoses of coffee, throw twenty dollar bills on the table and leave.
TRUCK STAGING AREA
Burley grips the grab-bar on the side of his cab and hoists his bulk up into the cab.
BURLEY’S TRUCK CAB
He speaks into his CB radio.
BURLEY
Dispatch, looks like we-uns is ready to roll.
DISPATCHER TOWER AT TRUCK STAGING AREA
THE DISPATCHER SITS AT HIS DESK, MICROPHONE IN FRONT.
DISPATCHER
OK, Burley. DC Mission Control says it’s a go for launch...and stick to the goddamn speed limit, ya’ hear!
We hear the roar of truck engines starting.
CLOUDS OF DIESEL EXHAUST DRIFT PAST THE WINDOW OF THE DISPATCHER’S TOWER.
CUT TO:
INT. - SHEPARD HOTEL KITCHEN - EVENING
ON A COMMERCIAL GAS RANGE HUGE POTS OF SPAGHETTI SAUCE SIMMER.
Italian chef Renato Puoti stir-fries broccoli, zucchini, carrots, squash and cauliflower in woks.
RENATO AND RAFAEL
Renato tastes the spaghetti sauce as Rafael waits patiently.
RAFAEL
The runners are hungry.
RENATO
(tasting once more)
Runners are always hungry. Five minutes.
CUT TO:
INT. - SHEPARD HOUSE LIVING ROOM - EVENING
LAWRENCE
Still at his desk, again talking on the telephone, he looks at his clipboard. His pencil checks several boxes as he talks.
LAWRENCE
Gage, I think we’ve got all the problems solved. It’s a “go.”
Lawrence looks self-satisfied as he hangs up the phone.
CUT TO:
EXT. - SHEPARD HOUSE HOTEL LAWN - EVENING
A BRILLIANT SUNSET STRETCHES ACROSS THE MARATHON BASIN SKY
Cotton stands on the lawn, looking at the sunset. We see the purple, pink and orange clouds change shape and hue as the sun drops below the distant peaks. The cloud configuration changes into a cradle that appears to rock in the gentle evening breeze.
COTTON
Tears come to Cotton’s face.
Off-camera we hear Rafael announce that the spaghetti dinner is ready.
Cotton wipes away her tears and turns toward the hotel entrance, slowly going through the door.
SHEPARD HOTEL LOBBY
LINE OF RUNNERS
The boisterous runners josh with each other as they wait to enter the dining room. The line stretches on into the lobby.
AMANDA
Amanda stands last in line, looking around for Cotton. Seeing her, she motions for Cotton to join her.
AMANDA AND COTTON
AMANDA
Hurry, some of these guys’ll be back for seconds before we get our plates.
COTTON
(only nods)
AMANDA
(worried)
What is it, Cotton?
The food line inches forward.
COTTON
The sunset...the clouds.
AMANDA
Wasn’t it beautiful?
COTTON
I could see a pink cradle.
(looks intently at Amanda)
If I only knew where my little girl was...do you realize, by now she’d be the age of some of these young women here tonight.
The line moves through the double French doors into the dining room.
SHEPARD HOTEL DINING ROOM
Only a few unoccupied seats at the individual tables remain. Lawrence and the other five Ass-Kickers are seated at the head table with a vacant chair next to Lawrence.
AMANDA AND COTTON
At the buffet table Amanda and Cotton fill their plates with spaghetti and whole grain bread and look for seats.
KEITH
He sits alone at a table.
AMANDA
Amanda spies Keith and goes to sit beside him.
THE HEAD TABLE
Lawrence stands and comes over to Cotton to escort her back to the head table.
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
LAWRENCE
(looking concerned)
Don’t look so sad.
(gesturing around the room)
These are your family...here...these runners...they love you for being here, for running with them tomorrow.
HOWARD AND RILEY’S TABLE
Standing as Cotton and Lawrence approach, Howard greets Cotton.
HOWARD
It’s a great thrill to meet you, Cotton.
(addressing the other runners at his table.)
No competitive sport is as democratic as running a marathon. Old and slow runners like me can be right in there with world-class athletes.
(turning back to Cotton)
Like you, Cotton.
COTTON
You may win your age group.
RILEY
(laughing)
Howard will...he’s the only one in the over-70 group.
LAWRENCE
Tomorrow, Howard, I know you will run with your face into the wind and discover a new land.
THE HEAD TABLE
As Cotton and Lawrence approach, the Ass-Kickers stand to greet her. Lawrence holds the vacant chair next to his for Cotton.
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
After Cotton sits and begins to eat, Lawrence leans over and speaks to her.
LAWRENCE
Your sculpture Tides is magnificent. I’ll tell Bill Yates to make it our new logo...put it on our new flag.
COTTON
(pleased, reflectively)
My...sculpture has a home...
(smiling contentedly)
...thanks to you, Lawrence.
LAWRENCE
Gage’s boys are placing Tides in our park...you’ll dedicate it at tomorrow’s race start.
COTTON
I hope my work offers another dimension to the lives of people here.
LAWRENCE
I know it will. Let’s tell them about it now.
Lawrence stands and taps his glass with his knife. The hubbub of conversations subsides.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
(addressing the runners)
I want to welcome you all to Marathon.
(putting his arm around Cotton’s shoulder)
This charming woman will be unveiling her sculpture tomorrow at race start. You’re in for a real surprise.
(looking around the room)
By the way, how’dja like our spaghetti dinner?
The runners applaud, cheer and whistle.
PHILIP
(standing)
Then welcome our Italian chef from Naples...
(calling to the kitchen)
Renato Puoti.
DOOR TO KITCHEN
RENATO
Renato enters, doffs his knitted cheese-maker’s skullcap and waves as we hear more cheers and applause from the runners.
THE HEAD TABLE
As quiet returns, Lawrence addresses the runners.
LAWRENCE
We’re full of surprises here in West Texas. Our course for tomorrow is the first split marathon ever to be run.
On an easel Lawrence unveils a large map of West Texas.
THE MAP
The Race course is highlighted—three 8.7-mile segments, the first starting in Marathon, out to Fort Pena and back; the second along the south side of the Rio Grande in Coahuila, Mexico; and the third from Marfa, Texas back to Marathon.
MEL AND MEGAN’S TABLE
MEL
(in a loud voice)
Time for a siesta between each split?
RILEY
Will the Mexican aid stations offer tequila?
Runners laugh and connect with the merriment.
THE HEAD TABLE
LAWRENCE
Seriously, we’ll bus you from one segment to the next...got to get you back here to Marathon by dusk. Now let me tell you about tonight’s entertainment...
MEL AND MEGAN’S TABLE
Mel whispers to Megan. Megan stands.
MEGAN
I have a question.
THE HEAD TABLE
Lawrence looks toward Megan and nods.
MEL AND MEGAN’S TABLE
MEGAN (cont’d)
Many of us came way out here to West Texas to enjoy an environment of peace and quiet...a natural, unspoiled landscape.
Off-camera we hear voices of agreement.
MEL
(encouraging her, whispering)
Go on.
MEGAN
(summoning courage)
But outside town there are yellow bulldozers, big earth moving trucks. Surely you’re not planning some monstrous development that’ll ruin it. I mean, you know, I hope not...there’s our children to think about. We must save the West for them, don’t you think?
Mel gives her a thumbs-up.
MEL
(whispering to her)
Good word composition. Now frown, shake your fist. A visual demonstration for emphasis. Pretend this’s a Hollywood stage and you’re on camera.
Megan follows Mel’s direction and stares intently toward Lawrence.
MEGAN
Tell us, then. What changes are coming to this idyllic town? Are you and the Border Patrol building a fort to defend us from illegal aliens? Or is it the new Marathon Wal-Mart?
THE HEAD TABLE
LAWRENCE
(edged, then chuckling)
No, no, nothing like that. They’re simply building a road to a new campground...
AMANDA AND KEITH’S TABLE
Keith stands abruptly, interrupting Lawrence. His long hair swishes from side to side as he looks around the room and addresses the runners. Amanda looks up at him, idolizing.
KEITH
You guys from corporate America are masters at bullshitting the rest of us who are slaves to an age of bar codes, microchips and big brother computers watching over.
THE DINING ROOM
The dining room is suddenly silent. The runners look at each other and then turn toward Lawrence.
THE HEAD TABLE
Philip Lopate rolls his eyes in disbelief.
Bill Yates leans over to whisper to Montgomery Wilson.
BILL
(quietly, in confidence)
That hippie can’t be fooled. There’s already a campground out there.
MONTY
(whispering back)
Maybe it’s for the overflow.
BILL
They’ve already got one.
Cotton looks up at Lawrence quizzically.
JOHN VOSS
(paternalistically)
Change, my boy, is as inevitable as tomorrow morning’s starting gun.
LAWRENCE
(calmly and soothingly)
Rest assured, we have everyone’s best interests at heart.
AMANDA AND KEITH’S TABLE
Keith remains standing.
KEITH
(sarcastically)
The last time I trusted someone in authority, I lost my job the next day.
Several are heard to utter the word “whistle-blower,” dismissing Keith as a nut case.
THE HEAD TABLE
LAWRENCE
(assuming control again)
If there are no more questions about tomorrow’s race...
(looking around the room and smiling)
Live music tonight in the bar. West Texas Country and Western...the Chili Peppers.
Sporadic clapping from the runners, followed by agreeable expressions of approval for dancing the night away.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
(to Cotton)
I always take an evening walk through town. Will you join me?
COTTON
Sweet idea. I’ll get a sweater.
SHEPARD HOTEL LOBBY
COTTON AND BILL YATES
Cotton starts up the stairs. Bill stops Cotton, grasping her arm.
BILL
(quietly, earnestly)
Something’s not right here in Marathon.
Cotton looks puzzled.
BILL (cont’d)
Don’t tell Lawrence I spoke to you. But can you find out what’s going on...I mean, I’ve got to know who Baby Doe is.
COTTON
Why don’t you ask him?
BILL
He and Gage Harte have got something going...will you try to find out?
Bill hands her his business card.
BILL (cont’d)
(pointing to the card)
There’s my number. Call me tonight...any time.
COTTON
(looking at Bill’s card)
I’ve known Lawrence for years. You’re imagining...
Cotton looks up, but Bill is gone.
CUT TO:
EXT. - OKLAHOMA INTERSTATE 40 - EARLY EVENING
One after the other, the convoy of four 18-wheelers rolls along at high speed through the Oklahoma countryside.
BURLEY IN CAB OF LEAD TRUCK
Burley, his large arms grasping the big steering wheel, peers intently at the road ahead.
CUT TO:
EXT. - SHEPARD HOTEL - MOONLIGHT
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
Lawrence and Cotton leave the Shepard Hotel behind and stroll along the main street through Marathon. They pass the Marathon National Bank building. At a large vacant lot, they stop.
LAWRENCE
(pointing at the lot)
This’s where Shepard built his opera house for his Zerlina. A hundred years ago volunteers fought fires with horse-drawn engines and buckets of water. No match for the flames.
(putting his arm around Cotton and smiling at her)
I’ll build you an art gallery here.
(with his other arm he gestures at the horizon)
Your sculptures are as magnificent as these mountains.
(back to Cotton)
This is outdoor country.
COTTON
You presented me with quite an artistic challenge to capture the rebirth of Marathon.
Arm in arm, they walk on.
COTTON (cont’d)
I’m curious about your plans for Marathon.
LAWRENCE
Running tomorrow, you’ll engage the landscape of this country.
Cotton squeezes his arm.
THE MOONLIGHT ILLUMINATES THE MOUNTAIN RANGES ON THE HORIZON.
Off-camera we hear a distant train whistle.
At the edge of town, Lawrence and Cotton stop.
AHEAD, IN THE MOONLIGHT, LIE ENDLESS EXPANSES OF WEST TEXAS.
COTTON
(contemplating the vast landscape)
Lawrence, I’m impressed with the race course you’ve chosen. To organize a run through part of Mexico, you’ve had to deal with not only the people in Mexico, but here the Bureau of Land Management and the Border Patrol.
LAWRENCE
You left out the Texas Rangers.
Cotton looks inquisitively at Lawrence as they stroll on.
COTTON
But why?
(studying him)
You must have a reason. I mean, you could have us run the 13-some miles over to Marfa and back.
LAWRENCE
Everyone in the country regards this part of West Texas as a no-mans-land. It’s perfect, you see.
COTTON
(steps back)
For what?
LAWRENCE
Do you remember that in 1796 the British emptied their prisons and shipped the undesirables off to Australia? “Put them any place but near me!” was the Englishman’s cry.
COTTON
(skeptically)
So, with all those bulldozers Megan was talking about, you’re building the world’s largest hoosegow here?
Lawrence laughs heartily.
LAWRENCE
No, I’m simply going to hide away something else no one wants near them.
Lawrence stops Cotton.
DESERTED RAILROAD STATION WITH FADING LETTERS “MARATHON”
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
Lawrence gestures toward the station.
LAWRENCE (cont’d)
We’re getting enough money to restore this relic. And over there...
(He points to empty land.)
Will be our new truck terminal. And across the highway we’ll build a new school, maybe a university, for sure soccer fields, a hospital, a civic center...
COTTON
You couldn’t have gotten enough money for all that development from our 500 race entries...let me see...twenty-five dollars times 500 comes to only...
Lawrence laughs, then turns quite serious as he looks at Cotton.
LAWRENCE
(very slowly)
I believe six billion’ll do it.
COTTON
(in disbelief)
Pesos?
LAWRENCE
(serious, a tad proudly)
Dollars...greenbacks. Legal tender. Real money...IBM-sized dollars.
Cotton appears dubious. She steps away from Lawrence and starts to walk away, then turns and looks back at him.
COTTON
(demanding)
Lawrence, what are you really up to out here? Six billions dollars? Who from, for God’s sake? And for what?
(looking at him in fright)
You and this plan of yours are beginning to scare me. I don’t think I want any part of it.
Cotton starts to walk away. Lawrence comes after her.
LAWRENCE
(urgently)
Cotton, wait. It’s all for everyone’s good.
SERIES OF OVERHEAD SHOTS
COTTON turns again and walks away from Lawrence.
LAWRENCE follows her, reaching out to catch her arm and stop her.
COTTON removes Lawrence’s hand from her arm and backs away a few feet from him.
LAWRENCE AND COTTON stand apart, facing each other.
LAWRENCE gestures as he tries to win over Cotton.
COTTON backs farther away from Lawrence, acting as if she wants to run from him.
LAWRENCE holds out his hands, gesturing toward Cotton.
Slowly COTTON moves closer to Lawrence, the distance between them narrowing.
BACK TO:
LAWRENCE AND COTTON
COTTON
Lawrence, creating a new country by spinning off West Texas to unite with a state in Mexico to store nuclear waste may be crazy, but call me crazy, too. I’m with you.
We hear honky-tonk music coming from the Shepard Hotel.
COTTON (cont’d)
Come dance with me. Please...I want to hear more about your plans...and you.
Lawrence offers Cotton his hand and, together, they walk back toward the lights of the hotel.
CUT TO:
EXT. - TRUCK STOP OUTSIDE LUBBOCK, TEXAS - NIGHT
FOUR 18-WHEELERS
The 18-wheelers pull into the truck stop parking lot. The drivers, Burley, Buster, Snooky and Butch, climb down from their cabs and light cigarettes.
NEON SIGN ON TRUCK STOP RESTAURANT
A flashing red neon sign announces “Millie’s Kitchen, All you can eat for $8.95. Tonight’s special: Millie’s Bottomless Bucket of Deep Fried Chicken.”
INT. - RESTAURANT
BURLEY
BURLEY
Boys, I’m starved. Let’s chow down. We’ve got to get some sleep, too, if we’re goin’ keep on schedule with our early morning departure.
CUT TO:
INT. - BILL YATES’ OFFICE - NIGHT
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