5525 lines
223 KiB
Plaintext
5525 lines
223 KiB
Plaintext
THE REVENANT
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Written by
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Mark L Smith
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Based on the novel by
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MICHAEL PUNKE
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September 26, 2007
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Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.
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- Samuel Johnson
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Based on a true story
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FADE IN:
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EXT. UPPER MISSOURI RIVER/1820'S - EVENING
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ANGLE ON A SINGLE COTTONWOOD LEAF... brown and crisp...
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clinging to its empty branch... the solitary sign of life on
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an otherwise barren tree.
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A gust of wind... the leaf breaks free... flutters down,
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landing in the slow current of the Missouri. The last leaf
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of the fall, taking its final journey south.
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As it floats along the surface, rising and falling with the
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current, all we can hear is the river's gentle movement...
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the trickle of water... the splash of timid rapids... until
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DISTANT VOICES invade this world... soft at first, but
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growing louder... LAUGHTER... SINGING.
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And then our leaf CRASHES INTO A WOODEN BOARD... the BOW OF A
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BOAT. We hear the VOICES EVEN CLEARER... MEN'S VOICES, as we
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rise up the bow... see it's a FLATBOAT BEACHED ON A SANDBAR
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at the center of the river.
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Beyond the flatboat are the voices... TWENTY MEN of the Rocky
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Mountain Fur Company, making camp along the shore... hauling
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wood, building campfires, pitching squares of canvas for
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makeshift rooftops. And this camp is full of life because
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these are some of the first men to ever see this untouched
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wilderness... men with a whole new world just waiting for
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them to claim their share.
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EXT. CAMP - EVENING
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CAPTAIN ANDREW HENRY, (late 20's), dressed in a buckskin
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jacket with long fringe... thick belt pulled tightly around
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his waist with two pistols and a knife hanging from it. He
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stands out among the others... like an imposter pretending to
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be a member of some exclusive club. He pulls off one of his
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gloves... examines the BLOOD-FILLED BLISTERS lining his palm.
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From across the camp, JOHN FITZGERALD, (40's), solid and
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thick... dark eyes of a killer, watches Henry. He nudges
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MACE BOONE, (40's), a thief in a previous life.
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FITZGERALD
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Likely got a splinter. Can't
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figure what to do without Mama here
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to pull it out for him.
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Boone chuckles... spits in Henry's direction.
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2.
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BOONE
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Need a doc, Captain?
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Henry looks up... sees Fitzgerald and Boone grinning at him.
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He slides his glove back on.
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HENRY
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Gather more wood.
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Fitzgerald waits for Henry to turn, then gives his back an
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exaggerated salute.
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FITZGERALD
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(under his breath)
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Shame my Pap was a broken down
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drunk. Else he could've bought me
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a Captain's job too.
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Boone snickers. Fitzgerald stomps his boot onto a branch,
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easily snaps it into two easy-to-carry pieces.
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FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
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We got a plan for these fires,
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Captain, or are we roastin' berries
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all the way up to Fort Union?
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HENRY
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Glass and the others will be back
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with some game, Fitzgerald. Just
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make sure you have the fires ready.
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FITZGERALD
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My supper's in the hands of a
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hermit nigger, a kid and a dummy.
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Hell, my belly feels full already.
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Fitzgerald's boot CRACKS another branch... and when it does,
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we hear the EXPLOSION OF A GUNSHOT.
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CUT TO:
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EXT. WILDERNESS - EVENING
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And a CLOUD OF SMOKE surrounding the LONG BARREL OF AN
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ANSTADT RIFLE.
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The smoke fades, and at the other end of the rifle we see the
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face of HUGH GLASS, (40's), African-American, one eye still
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closed, as the other calmly stares down that barrel.
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VOICE (O.S.)
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Shit fire, you got him, Mr. Glass!
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3.
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Glass lowers the rifle, as PIG GILMORE, (30's), fat and
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filthy, races past.
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PIG (CONT'D)
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Square as a barn door.
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JIM BRIDGER, (17), young eyes that have already seen a lot,
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nods to Glass as he follows Pig.
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Glass watches Pig and Bridger trot through the trees to a
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fallen ELK. Glass walks calmly after them, graceful in this
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world... his rifle so comfortable in his hand it's like he
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was born with it there. Pig crouches over the dead elk...
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grins up at Glass.
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PIG (CONT'D)
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Right where you said he'd be.
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BRIDGER
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But bigger than we figured. Gonna
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be a load to haul back to camp.
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PIG
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Have to split it up I reckon.
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GLASS
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Yep. Bridger'll take the tail, and
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Pig you haul the rest.
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And Fitzgerald was right about Pig being a little slow,
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because he just nods... pulls out his knife to cut the tail
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off for Bridger.
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Bridger and Glass exchange a smile... until Glass notices
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something... steps over the elk, his eyes locked on the
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ground beside it. He runs a finger over the dirt... touches
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a broken twig.
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BRIDGER
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Another one close by?
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Glass doesn't answer... studies the track... feels the nearby
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brush... inhales the scent from his hand. Bridger and Pig
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watch him... exchange a confused glance. And then in a flash
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of movement, Glass is on his feet, racing away.
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PIG
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Hugh?
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Glass just keeps running. Pig and Bridger chase after him.
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CUT TO:
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4.
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EXT. CAMP - EVENING
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The men building fires... laughing... enjoying themselves.
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Boone on the outskirts, gathering branches.
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CUT TO:
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GLASS - TEARING THROUGH THE WOODS...
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...dodging trees... leaping over fallen logs... loading his
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Anstadt as he runs.
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BRIDGER AND PIG - CHASING AFTER GLASS...
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...but not as gracefully. Pig trips... slams to the
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ground... scrambles back to his feet to continue on.
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CUT TO:
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BOONE - CARRYING AN ARMLOAD OF WOOD INTO CAMP...
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...seeing other men playing cards. He stops along the edge
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of camp, drops the wood to the ground.
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BOONE
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No rule says I'm the only one
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that's gotta gather this shit.
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The other men don't even notice. Then an ARROW WHIZZES
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THROUGH THE AIR from behind Boone... THWACK... it hits him in
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the back of the neck... erupts out the front of his throat.
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Boone stands frozen... confused... reaches up and grabs the
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bloody arrow... finally drops to his knees. And that's when
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a TRAPPER looks up... sees Boone on his knees, holding that
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arrow, his mouth open like a dying fish.
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AND BEYOND BOONE ARE FORTY ARIKARA WARRIORS CHARGING THROUGH
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THE TREES... FEATHERS RISING FROM THE MOHAWKS SPLITTING THEIR
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SHAVED HEADS... FACES PAINTED FOR BATTLE.
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TRAPPER
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`REE!
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WHOOSH... AN ARROW SAILS INTO THE TRAPPER'S CHEST, sending
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him flying backward. The camp explodes into chaos... men
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YELLING... grabbing for weapons... stumbling over each other
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as they duck behind trees.
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5.
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HENRY - PULLING THE PISTOLS FROM HIS BELT...
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...taking aim at the attacking figures.
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The Arikara pour into camp, arrows flying... knives and
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hatchets swinging. And this is a massacre... the Arikara
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wading through the trappers... stabbing... clubbing...
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scalping. This once peaceful world is filled with a sickening
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mix of war cries and screams of death.
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Fitzgerald rises up from behind a log... aims his rifle...
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BOOM... takes down one of the warriors. He starts reloading
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as ANOTHER WARRIOR charges him... draws back his knife.
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Fitzgerald pours the powder, but knows he isn't going to make
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it in time... the warrior leaps toward him...
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...BOOM... it's like the warrior hits an invisible wall...
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flies back to the ground, very dead. Fitzgerald spins...
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sees Glass and his Anstadt right behind him.
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GLASS
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GET TO THE BOAT!
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Fitzgerald takes off... flips his rifle around, swings it
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like a club across a warrior's head... WHACK!
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GLASS (CONT'D)
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(TO HENRY)
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THE BOAT, CAPTAIN!
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Henry shoves a TRAPPER toward the water. An arrow drives
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into the trapper's leg... he goes down. Henry lifts the man
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to pull him into the river, but several more arrows bury in
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the man's back... he falls limp. Henry FIRES HIS PISTOLS,
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dropping the WARRIOR.
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Bridger and Pig join Glass... splash into the river, SHOOTING
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back at the attacking Arikara. The water deepens, and they
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start swimming toward the flatboat.
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ARROWS HISS into the water all around them.
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Glass is still in the shallows... aims his pistol... BAM...
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shoots an oncoming warrior... spins after the other men...
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joins them as they near the flatboat.
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A final TRAPPER charges down the shore behind them. SEVERAL
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WARRIORS pursue him.
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TRAPPER
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WAIT!
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6.
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He aims his pistol over his shoulder as he runs... pulls the
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trigger... CLICK... pulls it again... CLICK. But he's too
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scared to stop his finger... CLICK... CLICK... CLICK...
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THUD... as a hatchet buries in his back. He crashes face
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first into the shallows.
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The Arikara leader, (ELK'S TONGUE), animal bones braided into
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his mohawk, a NECKLACE OF HUMAN EARS around his neck,
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straddles the dying man. Elk's Tongue grabs the Trapper by
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the hair, and CUTS OFF HIS LEFT EAR, then holds it up to
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Glass and the others, as he SCREAMS HIS WAR CRY.
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Glass and the men shove the flatboat off the sandbar... start
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scrambling aboard, as arrows dart past them... drive into the
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wooden boat.
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Suddenly a WARRIOR EXPLODES FROM THE WATER... tackles Bridger
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as he climbs up the side of the flatboat... jerks him back
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into the river. Bridger flails in the water... watches the
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warrior raise his hatchet high to slam down... just as Glass
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SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS ANSTADT into the back of the Warrior's
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head.
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The Warrior collapses under the surface. Glass grabs
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Bridger's hand... drags him up onto the deck.
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BRIDGER
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Thank you.
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But Glass is already gone... FIRING BACK AT THE ARIKARA, as
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the current carries them away.
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VOICE (O.S.)
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HEY!
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Pig looks over the side... sees a frantic WILLIAM ANDERSON
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gripped to the edge. Pig pulls him onto the boat.
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Fitzgerald and Glass grab LONGPOLES... shove them against the
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river's bottom to pick up speed.
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Henry stands on deck, watching as Elk's Tongue yanks a DYING
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TRAPPER's head back by his hair to peel away his scalp.
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Henry drops his eyes... can't watch. The TRAPPER'S SCREAM
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ECHOES OVER HIM.
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EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - LATER
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Quiet and dark... the battle long over. The flatboat floats
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with the gentle current. The NINE SURVIVING TRAPPERS are
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scattered around the deck...
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7.
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Glass digging an arrow out of WALLACE MURPHY'S SHOULDER...
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Fitzgerald poling on one side with Anderson on the other...
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STUBBY BILL VANCE and Pig standing patrol with their
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rifles... Bridger doctoring a badly WOUNDED TRAPPER... and
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Henry standing at the front of the flatboat, staring off
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blankly.
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FITZGERALD
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What's the plan, Captain?
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Henry's still lost in those screams.
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FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
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Captain! What the hell do we do
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now?
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Henry snaps out of his stare... turns to the men... obviously
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doesn't have an answer.
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ANDERSON
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We're just floatin' farther from
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Fort Union.
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Henry's eyes instinctively look to Glass.
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GLASS
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The Missouri's no good. Not if the
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`Ree's running it.
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FITZGERALD
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So we just float the hell down to
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Mexico or wherever else this river
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takes us?
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GLASS
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We get ourselves safe outta range,
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then track another course up.
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FITZGERALD
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Add weeks to the trip.
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BRIDGER
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Better that than endin' up scalped
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on the side of the river.
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FITZGERALD
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(shoving him away)
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Shut up, kid, you don't get no say
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in this.
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Bridger starts to respond, but Fitzgerald's angry glare stops
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him.
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8.
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FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
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(back to Henry)
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And in case you hadn't noticed,
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Captain, we're twelve men short of
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what we were.
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(off the badly wounded
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TRAPPER)
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Thirteen before long.
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HENRY
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I understand our situation, Mr.
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Fitzgerald. We do like Glass
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said... put some distance between
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us and the Arikara, then chart a
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course to Fort Union.
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Fitzgerald MUMBLES UNDER HIS BREATH... rolls those dark eyes
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to Anderson. Glass gives Henry a nod.
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EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - NIGHT
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ANGLE ON THE BADLY WOUNDED TRAPPER... NOW DEAD...
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...as hands push the body over the side of the boat. It
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splashes into the water... floats downstream.
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We PULL BACK... see that the flatboat is beached along the
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bank of the river. Glass and Pig watch the body drift away.
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PIG
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Reckon it's better `an lettin' the
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`Ree find him... take his ears...
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slice what's left all to shit.
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Glass nods... steps down off the boat to Henry and the
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others. They're gathered around a map spread out on the
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ground. Henry runs his finger along a THIN BLUE LINE.
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HENRY
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So we hike west to the Grand, then
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follow it up to Fort Union.
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FITZGERALD
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On foot? You got any idea how long
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that's gonna take? It'll be winter
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before we get there.
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ANDERSON
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Unless we come across a post...
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trade for some horses.
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9.
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GLASS
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No posts that far out.
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FITZGERALD
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So if we do this, we do every step
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with our own feet.
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HENRY
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We make camp here for the night,
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then load supplies and head out for
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the Grand at first light.
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(BEAT)
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And gather extra blankets `cause
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there won't be any fires.
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More GRUMBLING from Fitzgerald and Anderson, as they move
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toward the cover of trees. Bridger walks up beside Glass.
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BRIDGER
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Thank you... for what you done back
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there.
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GLASS
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You'd have done the same for me.
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Bridger nods... he hopes so.
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EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
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Pig on watch... sitting at the base of a tree, rifle across
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his lap, eyes wide, scanning the darkness. All clear. He
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peers back to camp... Fitzgerald, Anderson, Stubby Bill, and
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Murphy wrapped in blankets... passing a bottle of whiskey
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around. Bridger across from Fitzgerald, poking at the dirt
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with a stick. Henry is off to one side, still studying that
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map. Glass sits against a tree, cleaning his Anstadt rifle.
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Fitzgerald watches Glass a beat, then...
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FITZGERALD
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You treat that Anstadt sweeter than
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any woman, Glass.
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STUBBY BILL
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Never seen a woman that could stop
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a `Ree from three hundred feet.
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ANDERSON
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I knew a particular big-breasted
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redhead in Boston that might come
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close.
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10.
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The others manage a small laugh. Glass just keeps working on
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that rifle.
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FITZGERALD
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Bring it over here for me to have a
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look.
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Glass doesn't look up... wipes a rag down the barrel.
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FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
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Did you hear what I said, boy?
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Still nothing from Glass. And Fitzgerald doesn't like
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that... the tension's growing.
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BRIDGER
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(MUMBLING)
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You seen it before.
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Fitzgerald turns that mean, drunken glare on Bridger.
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FITZGERALD
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What'd you say, kid?
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Bridger hesitates a beat... until the other men's eyes force
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a response.
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BRIDGER
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(SOFTLY)
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I said you shoulda already got a
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look when he saved you with it
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earlier.
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The camp falls still... nobody talks to Fitzgerald like
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that... especially when he's drunk. There isn't a sound
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except for Glass working methodically on his rifle...
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...until the SWISH OF BLADE OVER LEATHER, as Fitzgerald tears
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the blade from his belt... flings it into the dirt between
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Bridger's legs... AN INCH BELOW HIS CROTCH.
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Fitzgerald stares at Bridger, daring him to react. But
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Bridger's too scared... doesn't, so Fitzgerald just smiles.
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FITZGERALD
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You're lucky you ain't a man yet.
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(off the blade)
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Else that mighta nicked somethin'.
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A few NERVOUS CHUCKLES from the others, hoping this is over.
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And it is, because Fitzgerald reaches over and pulls the
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knife away... cleans the dirty blade on Bridger's leg.
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11.
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FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
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And unlike you, I don't need savin'
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by him or nobody else. Remember
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|
that.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald stands... wobbles just a bit. He slides the knife
|
|
back into his belt, then steadies his drunken gaze on Glass.
|
|
|
|
The others exchange nervous glances... uh-oh.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald walks to Glass... snaps his fingers for Glass'
|
|
Anstadt.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Lemme see what's so special `bout
|
|
that shooter of yours.
|
|
|
|
Nothing from Glass, so Fitzgerald grabs the barrel, but Glass
|
|
holds firm.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Middle of workin' on it.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Well you can stop workin' on it,
|
|
and let me have a look like I said.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald gives another tug, but Glass' grip only grows
|
|
tighter. His eyes roll up to Fitzgerald... make it clear he
|
|
isn't giving up his rifle. And they hold that stare just as
|
|
hard as they're holding Glass' rifle.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
You forget your place?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Best I can tell, my place is right
|
|
where I want it... on the smart end
|
|
of my rifle.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald realizes the barrel he's holding is aimed right at
|
|
his stomach, while Glass' hand seems suddenly very close to
|
|
the trigger. But Fitzgerald's pride and that whiskey won't
|
|
let him lose this tug of war.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I'd be careful if I was you, boy.
|
|
|
|
And this thing's about to turn real ugly... until...
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
That's enough, Fitzgerald. Go
|
|
sober up and get to sleep.
|
|
(MORE)
|
|
12.
|
|
HENRY(CONT'D)
|
|
If you're passed out when we break
|
|
camp tomorrow, I leave you here.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald holds his glare on Glass, then releases the rifle,
|
|
shoving it back at Glass. He glances to Henry, and throws
|
|
back a big gulp from the bottle just for spite, before
|
|
backing away from Glass.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
That's the trouble with this part
|
|
of the world. No mirrors. Niggers
|
|
forget what color they are.
|
|
|
|
Glass ignores Fitzgerald... goes back to his rifle.
|
|
Fitzgerald tosses the bottle at Anderson, then jerks his
|
|
blanket up... walks off to sleep by himself.
|
|
|
|
Glass glances up from his work... just long enough to give
|
|
Bridger a nod.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - LATER
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald sleeping off that whiskey. The others snoring in
|
|
a cluster at the center of the camp. Henry lies there
|
|
awake... looks across to Glass, still sitting against the
|
|
tree, a HANDRAWN MAP in his lap, as his eyes pierce the
|
|
darkness. Henry eases over to Glass.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Can't sleep either?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Never like closin' my eyes when I'm
|
|
not sure who'll be standin' over me
|
|
when I open `em.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
I keep thinking about Boone and the
|
|
others... how maybe I should've had
|
|
us make camp further up river.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
The tracks I saw... those `Ree had
|
|
been tailin' us for a while. They'd
|
|
have gone as far north as it took.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
You're a good man, Captain. Soon
|
|
as you realize that, these others
|
|
will too.
|
|
|
|
Henry likes hearing that... still isn't sure it's true.
|
|
13.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Your years trappin' and guidin' out
|
|
here... have you had much
|
|
experience with the Arikara?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Enough to try and stay outta their
|
|
way.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(motions to Glass' map)
|
|
But you know this country well
|
|
enough to get us past them... up to
|
|
Fort Union?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I been here a long while. Whether
|
|
that gets us to Union or not...
|
|
|
|
Henry waits for more... doesn't get it. So he just nods and
|
|
starts back to his blanket.... stops.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
What Fitzgerald said earlier... he
|
|
doesn't speak for the rest.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
He wasn't wrong. Truth is that's
|
|
what I prefer about this country...
|
|
it's got no eye for the color of a
|
|
man's skin.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
Try to get some sleep, Hugh.
|
|
|
|
Henry climbs back under his blanket. Glass just sits there
|
|
looking at the map.
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS' MAP...
|
|
|
|
...primitive at best. Sketched mountains... winding blue
|
|
lines for rivers... small dots are scattered about with names
|
|
beside them... "Brazeau", "Talbot", "Union". And DOZENS OF
|
|
TRIANGLE PINE TREES have been drawn, representing the endless
|
|
wilderness.
|
|
|
|
We TIGHTEN ON THOSE TRIANGLES until we're lost in them.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
14.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Thick with trees. Henry leads the men single file through
|
|
the woods. They each have a canvas sack of supplies over one
|
|
shoulder, and their rifle in their hands.
|
|
|
|
The only sound is their feet crunching the dried leaves, and
|
|
even that seems too loud as their eyes dart about, searching
|
|
for any sign of attack.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
Shouldn't we have hit the Grand by
|
|
now?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We'll reach it soon enough. Glass
|
|
said to keep this course.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Glass said. Too bad I don't see
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
That's on account he's up ahead
|
|
makin' sure it's clear, and you get
|
|
to keep your ears.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald throws Pig an angry glance.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Or he's run off and left us.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
He wouldn't do that.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald GRUNTS... doesn't believe that.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
My bet, that nigger's used to
|
|
runnin'.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass moves slowly through the brush, almost gliding...
|
|
subtle twists and turns to avoid branches and leaves...
|
|
careful not to leave his scent behind. And his eyes cut
|
|
through the trees as he moves... digging for any sign of
|
|
movement.
|
|
|
|
He spots something at his feet... crouches down, running his
|
|
finger over the SMALL ANIMAL TRACK in the dirt.
|
|
15.
|
|
|
|
O.S. RUSTLING snaps his head up... to the TREMBLING OF
|
|
BUSHES... growing harder... whatever's in there is coming
|
|
toward Glass. He calmly raises his rifle... presses the
|
|
stock firmly against his shoulder... closes one eye as he
|
|
takes steady aim down the long barrel...
|
|
|
|
...to the shapes rumbling out of the brush... TWO BEAR CUBS
|
|
playfully wrestling.
|
|
|
|
Glass lowers the Anstadt... looks past the cubs for something
|
|
else... but the woods are empty. A SUDDEN FEAR FILLS GLASS'
|
|
EYES...
|
|
|
|
...he spins... right into the GIANT GRIZZLY SWINGING ITS PAW
|
|
AT HIM... hitting him across the side of the neck. The
|
|
animal's razor claws tear into Glass' throat, as the force
|
|
sends him flying through the air.
|
|
|
|
Glass sails into a thick tree... the CRACK OF HIS LEG
|
|
SNAPPING against the trunk. The rifle falls from his hand.
|
|
The Grizzly lets out a massive ROAR... charges Glass. Glass
|
|
crawls to the Anstadt... grabs it... has just enough time to
|
|
tilt the rifle toward the bear... BOOM.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
HENRY - HEARING THE BLAST.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
UP AHEAD!
|
|
|
|
Henry takes off at full sprint. The other men follow.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS - AS THE BEAR LEAPS ON TOP OF HIM...
|
|
|
|
...tosses Glass aside with a powerful swing. Glass hits the
|
|
ground with a PAINFUL THUD. He starts CRAWLING AWAY, pulling
|
|
the KNIFE from his belt as the bear rises up like a giant
|
|
behind him... swings... tears its claws across Glass's back,
|
|
shredding deep into his flesh.
|
|
|
|
Glass is fighting for his life now... flailing with the
|
|
knife... slicing it across the bear's paw as it whips past
|
|
him. The wound slows the bear enough for Glass to start
|
|
crawling again.
|
|
|
|
But the Grizzly doesn't give Glass the chance... ROARS... is
|
|
on him in a flash, a BLUR OF CLAWS AND FANGS... tearing
|
|
across Glass' head... ripping into his face... his chest.
|
|
16.
|
|
|
|
Glass drives his knife into the bear again... deep... trying
|
|
to tear through the layers of flesh to something more vital.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
HENRY - LEADING THE CHARGE THROUGH THE FOREST.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS AND THE GRIZZLY - FIGHTING THIS EPIC BATTLE...
|
|
|
|
...locked in a death grip... tumbling along the ground...
|
|
trading violent blows... Glass' blade versus the Grizzly's
|
|
claws and fangs... snapping small trees as they roll over
|
|
them... toward the edge of a steep embankment...
|
|
|
|
... and ROLL DOWN... spinning over and over... each ROARING
|
|
AT THE OTHER... Glass pounding the knife into the bear again
|
|
and again as they fall... neither willing to surrender as
|
|
they careen down the slope at a dizzying pace, then SLAM TO
|
|
THE BOTTOM WITH A CRUNCH. And the forest falls still...
|
|
Glass hidden somewhere beneath the massive animal... both
|
|
deathly motionless.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Bridger's the first to reach the battleground... sees the TWO
|
|
FRIGHTENED BEAR CUBS SCURRY AWAY. He follows the bloody
|
|
ground and crushed underbrush to the top of the slope...
|
|
looks down to the mass of flesh at the bottom.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Christ Almighty.
|
|
|
|
Henry, Pig, and the others reach the edge.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Glass!
|
|
|
|
No answer. And all they can see is the bear, so they scan
|
|
the trees.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
HUGH!
|
|
|
|
Still nothing. So Bridger takes off down the slope... losing
|
|
his balance but rolling back to his feet. He reaches the
|
|
bear... sees GLASS' MANGLED ARM STICKING OUT FROM BENEATH IT.
|
|
17.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
He's down here!
|
|
|
|
Bridger uses all his strength to push the bear off, as the
|
|
other men scramble down. But Bridger can't budge the massive
|
|
carcass... not until Stubby Bill and Pig join in... shove the
|
|
animal over, revealing the bloody mass that is Hugh Glass...
|
|
|
|
...his throat is torn wide open... scalp peeled back from
|
|
just above his eyebrows, hanging off the skull... stomach and
|
|
chest a gruesome design of gashes and cuts. His right leg
|
|
is snapped, the jagged bone jutting out through the skin.
|
|
|
|
Bridger's legs give out... he drops to a knee and vomits.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
Oh, Jesus.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
He's tore to pieces.
|
|
|
|
The men stare down at Glass' corpse.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
Least he took that Grizz down with
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Wished he'da done it without firing
|
|
his rifle. If there wasn't no `Ree
|
|
around before, there will be now.
|
|
|
|
And that's all Pig can stand... he TACKLES FITZGERALD... they
|
|
roll to the ground. And in a flash Fitzgerald is on top,
|
|
raining punches down on Pig... turning his face into a bloody
|
|
mess.
|
|
|
|
Henry and Anderson grab Fitzgerald... drag him off.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
THAT'S ENOUGH!
|
|
|
|
Then somehow, GLASS GASPS... this horrible, GUTTURAL MOAN.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Holy Christ, he's alive.
|
|
|
|
Henry and Bridger fall to their knees beside Glass. Glass
|
|
looks up at the men, tries to focus through the blood and
|
|
pain. His breathing is just a GURGLING WHEEZE... bubbles
|
|
forming along the deep gashes in his throat with each gasp.
|
|
18.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Get me some water.
|
|
|
|
Stubby Bill tosses Henry his canteen. Henry empties it over
|
|
Glass' throat... his face and scalp. The water hits the
|
|
wounds and immediately transforms to blood.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Oh, Jesus... Jesus.
|
|
|
|
Glass lifts a trembling hand to his throat... feels the
|
|
gaping wound. His eyes widen in horror. He COUGHS... the
|
|
air splashes blood up from the open wounds in his throat.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
It's okay, Hugh.
|
|
(pushing Glass' hand away)
|
|
You're going to be fine.
|
|
|
|
Henry spins his head away from Glass.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
(WHISPERS)
|
|
I need some rags before he bleeds
|
|
out.
|
|
|
|
Pig whips a shirt from his bag... shreds it.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
And your whiskey.
|
|
|
|
Pig tosses a bottle to Henry. Henry pours it over the
|
|
gashes. The BURNING PAIN arches Glass... he CRIES OUT in
|
|
that same horrific moan.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
Hold him down, Bridger, goddammit.
|
|
|
|
Bridger throws his weight against Glass' shoulders.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
The rest of you spread out... scout
|
|
a circle around us. Fitzgerald,
|
|
you and Anderson take west and
|
|
north. Murphy and Mike south and
|
|
east. Watch for anyone that
|
|
might've heard that shot.
|
|
|
|
And for the first time, Henry seems like a leader of men...
|
|
firm... in complete control... just as Glass said he would
|
|
be. So the men hurry off to their positions.
|
|
19.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
What about me, Cap?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Get down here and help me tie off
|
|
these wounds best we can.
|
|
|
|
Pig shakily joins Henry in wrapping the wounds. The blood
|
|
keeps seeping out, soaking the rags.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
It won't stop bleedin'.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Shut up, Pig.
|
|
(TO GLASS)
|
|
We're fixing you up, Hugh.
|
|
|
|
Glass is like a shredded rag doll... dazed eyes staring up at
|
|
them as they work on his wounds... wrapping the rags around
|
|
his throat... laying his scalp back over his skull, and tying
|
|
another rag around it and under his jaw to hold it in place.
|
|
|
|
Bridger wipes the blood from Glass' face.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
It's gonna be fine, Mr. Glass.
|
|
|
|
Henry glances down to the PUDDLE OF BLOOD spilling out over
|
|
his knees... oozing out from beneath Glass.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Roll him over... easy.
|
|
|
|
They gently push Glass onto one side, revealing DEEP, JAGGED,
|
|
GASHES running across the width of Glass' back. Henry stares
|
|
at the open flesh, ready to panic again... but he doesn't.
|
|
Instead he looks to Pig.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
Get me the kit. We need to stitch
|
|
his back up.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What about the rest of him?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
He's losing more blood back here.
|
|
(off the throat)
|
|
And I don't know what to do with
|
|
that yet.
|
|
20.
|
|
|
|
Pig digs out a thick needle and spool of black thread...
|
|
hands it to Henry. Henry grabs the whiskey bottle.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
I'm sorry for how this is about to
|
|
burn, Hugh.
|
|
|
|
Henry pours the whiskey over Glass' back. And the pain must
|
|
be excruciating, because Glass lets out a HORRIBLE WAIL.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald and Anderson standing watch together in the trees.
|
|
Glass' scream erupts through the trees, and they both
|
|
immediately crouch down to a knee... out of sight to anyone
|
|
out there that might have heard that.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
They're torturin' the poor bastard.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
And riskin' gettin' us killed in
|
|
the process. Proper thing would be
|
|
to end it for him quick.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
`Less he could pull through.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
You seen what that grizz did to
|
|
him. Shit, Glass'll be dead inside
|
|
a hour. We all will be if he keeps
|
|
screamin' like that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - LATER
|
|
|
|
SERIES OF SHOTS
|
|
|
|
HENRY, BRIDGER AND PIG WORKING OVER GLASS... Bridger and Pig
|
|
pressing Glass' scalp down, as Henry slides the needle and
|
|
thread through the skin, suturing the wound.
|
|
|
|
HENRY CLEANING GLASS' SHREDDED THROAT.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER AND PIG HOLDING THE SCREAMING GLASS DOWN AS HENRY
|
|
SNAPS GLASS' LEG BACK IN PLACE.
|
|
21.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD PEERING BACK THROUGH THE TREES... to Henry
|
|
doctoring Glass. Fitzgerald shakes his head in anger...
|
|
turns back to the darkening forest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass rests unconscious on the ground. Two branches act as a
|
|
splint on his leg. A blanket covers his body... his face is
|
|
like a swollen, disfigured, Frankenstein's monster...
|
|
stitches of black thread holding it in place.
|
|
|
|
Henry crouches a short distance away from him, rinsing his
|
|
hands under a canteen. Bridger and Pig stand beside him.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What now?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We wait. Does he have any kin you
|
|
know of?
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
He keeps to hisself. Never
|
|
mentioned none.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Go get the others. Tell `em we're
|
|
making camp here for the night.
|
|
|
|
Pig starts hustling away.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
And gather some wood, but make sure
|
|
it's dry. We don't want much smoke
|
|
when we cook that grizzly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON THE MASSIVE BEAR...
|
|
|
|
...lying dead on the ground, its claws and fangs soaked with
|
|
blood... Glass' blood.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
And what's left of the grizzly... its fur cut away... slabs
|
|
of flesh butchered from its skeleton.
|
|
|
|
A fire burns at the center of camp... a chunk of meat roasts
|
|
above the flame. The men sit around the fire...
|
|
22.
|
|
Murphy reaches up... tears a strip of meat from the roast,
|
|
tossing it in his mouth. The men are silent... the pall of
|
|
Glass' attack still hanging over them.
|
|
|
|
Bridger rises... walks to the Grizzly... crouches down over
|
|
it, grabbing the animal's enormous paw. It dwarfs his own
|
|
hand, as he examines the claws. Bridger pulls out his
|
|
knife... stretches the claw out to its full length, and CUTS
|
|
IT OFF AT ITS BASE.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (O.S.)
|
|
What makes you think you earned a
|
|
claw?
|
|
|
|
Bridger turns with a start... sees Fitzgerald standing over
|
|
him, meat in his hand... his lips shiny with the grease.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
You didn't take that grizz down.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
It ain't for me.
|
|
|
|
Bridger stands... walks over to the sleeping Glass. Pig's
|
|
already crouched beside him. Bridger lifts Glass' small
|
|
leather POSSIBLES BAG from beside the Anstadt rifle... drops
|
|
the claw inside... throws a look back to Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
Pig holds his palm out just above Glass' mouth.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
I can feel some air outta his
|
|
mouth. Maybe Captain sealed up his
|
|
throat proper, huh?
|
|
(off Bridger's silence)
|
|
Whatta you figure his odds are,
|
|
Jim?
|
|
|
|
Bridger stares down at what's left of Glass.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Long.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
|
|
|
|
The sun peeks over the horizon, sending an orange glow across
|
|
the treetops.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - MORNING
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS...
|
|
23.
|
|
|
|
...unconscious but alive... his raspy breaths are weak and
|
|
staggered. The SHADOWS OF MEN hover over him...
|
|
|
|
...because Henry and the others surround Glass, staring down
|
|
at him.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
What that bear did to him... I
|
|
didn't expect he'd last this long.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
I seen a fella go a week once after
|
|
a lion jumped him. Fever finally
|
|
finished him off.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
Whatta we do, Cap?
|
|
|
|
A long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We give him his chance.
|
|
|
|
Henry turns and walks away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The fire has burned down to nothing. The men sleep scattered
|
|
about. Murphy stands just outside of camp, rifle ready,
|
|
keeping watch.
|
|
|
|
Glass lies there awake... eyes wide open... a living corpse.
|
|
And his breathing is just as labored as before... raspy,
|
|
blood-soaked strains.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald tosses and turns, listening to Glass' gurgling.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
You ain't doin' him or us no
|
|
favors, Captain, lettin' him suffer
|
|
that way.
|
|
|
|
Henry's awake, but doesn't answer. He's holding his pistol
|
|
in his hand, as he stares at Glass... thinking the same thing
|
|
Fitzgerald just said. But he doesn't move... not yet.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald angrily wraps a blanket around his head, muffling
|
|
the sound. Bridger sits beyond him... smiles at Fitzgerald's
|
|
misery, as he attaches the BEAR CLAW TO A THIN LEATHER
|
|
STRAP... a necklace.
|
|
24.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Bridger kneels over a SHIVERING GLASS, holding wet rags on
|
|
his head. Pig and Henry stand over them, watching.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald, Anderson, Murphy and Stubby Bill sit huddled
|
|
across camp.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
Fever's hit. Won't be long now.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I seen a bad one drag on days.
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS...
|
|
|
|
...eyes open... he can hear every word.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (O.S.) (cont'd)
|
|
Insides shut down... flesh starts
|
|
to spoil and turn. Ain't no way
|
|
for...
|
|
|
|
HENRY (O.S.)
|
|
Quiet, Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD...
|
|
|
|
...points a stick at Glass.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(TO HENRY)
|
|
We keep sittin' here watchin' him
|
|
die, only gives the `Ree more
|
|
chance to find us.
|
|
|
|
Henry doesn't answer... just keeps staring down at Glass.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
He's burnin', Cap. Water turns to
|
|
boil as soon as it touches him.
|
|
|
|
Henry considers this, then...
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Pig, take Anderson and scout ahead.
|
|
Grand should be just west of here.
|
|
Find us the best route.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Tryin' to buy Glass time don't make
|
|
sense for the rest of us, Captain.
|
|
25.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(TO PIG)
|
|
Get movin'.
|
|
|
|
Pig nods... grabs his gear. He and Anderson take off out of
|
|
camp. Henry turns... walks over to Fitzgerald and Stubby
|
|
Bill.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
(WHISPERS)
|
|
You two can start digging a grave.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald tosses the stick away.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Least it's a step in the right
|
|
direction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - LATER
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald is covered in dirt and sweat, standing knee deep
|
|
in Glass' grave. Stubby Bill stands over him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Any coyote digs that deep deserves
|
|
the meal.
|
|
|
|
He takes Stubby Bill's hand... pulls himself out.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Glass won't know the difference no
|
|
ways.
|
|
|
|
Pig and Anderson walk back into camp.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
Found it, Cap. Right where Glass
|
|
had us headed.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
No more than a mile or so out.
|
|
|
|
Henry looks to Bridger, still doctoring Glass.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We could build a litter. Haul him
|
|
with us.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
It's rocky and steep goin'.
|
|
|
|
Henry looks to Pig for an honest answer.
|
|
26.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
Marshy and thick on the other side.
|
|
We could try it, but...
|
|
|
|
Pig shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I signed on as a trapper, not a
|
|
goddamn mule.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
(TO HENRY)
|
|
Shape he's in... I don't see no way
|
|
he'd make bein' drug.
|
|
|
|
Henry nods, his mind racing for a solution. And before long,
|
|
his hand is back on that pistol. He pulls it from his belt.
|
|
|
|
The other men all drop their heads... except for
|
|
Fitzgerald... he's ready to see this end.
|
|
|
|
Henry stares down at Glass.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Lay that rag over his eyes, Mr.
|
|
Bridger.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
But, Captain.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Do it.
|
|
|
|
Bridger hesitates, then reaches to fold the wet rag down over
|
|
Glass' wide open eyes. And Glass must know what's happening,
|
|
because his eyes roll up to Bridger's... his lips try to form
|
|
a word... his hand digs its fingers into the dirt beside him.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - ON BRIDGER...
|
|
|
|
...the boy looking away as he pulls the rag over our eyes...
|
|
everything goes black.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (O.S.)
|
|
Step clear, Mr. Bridger.
|
|
|
|
A LONG BEAT in the dark, waiting for that gunshot, then...
|
|
|
|
BACK TO SCENE
|
|
27.
|
|
|
|
Henry standing over Glass... pistol aimed down. His hand
|
|
trembles slightly.
|
|
|
|
Pig turns away... presses his hands over his ears.
|
|
|
|
Bridger takes a few steps back... stares at Henry.
|
|
|
|
Henry struggles to steady his aim, until finally it calms...
|
|
because he's thought of something else.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
There's a seventy dollar bonus from
|
|
the Rocky Mountain Fur Company to
|
|
the two men that stay with Glass...
|
|
see this through. Then give him a
|
|
proper burial.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I'll stay with him... money or not.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
Same here.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
I can't let you stay back, Pig.
|
|
Without Glass, I'll need you to
|
|
scout.
|
|
|
|
Henry looks to the others... they all drop their eyes... not
|
|
interested.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
Just need one more.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Two won't stand much chance against
|
|
a party of `Ree, Captain, and
|
|
seventy dollars won't buy me a new
|
|
setta ears.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
A hundred then.
|
|
|
|
Still nothing from the others.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
They can have my share too. I owe
|
|
Glass that at least.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
That case I'll hang back with the
|
|
kid. I don't mind fallin' a day or
|
|
so behind for two hundred.
|
|
28.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
But Glass is to be cared for until.
|
|
Understood?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(motions to Bridger)
|
|
I'll let the young doctor do his
|
|
job.
|
|
|
|
Henry hesitates... doesn't like this, but knows it's the best
|
|
option left.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
The rest gather your gear.
|
|
|
|
Bridger reaches down... lifts the rag from Glass' face.
|
|
Their eyes meet... Bridger gives Glass a nod.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - LATER
|
|
|
|
Henry and the others are loaded and ready to leave. Pig
|
|
bends down over Glass.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
I'll see ya at Fort Union, Hugh.
|
|
|
|
Glass's glazed eyes focus on Pig. He moves the only thing he
|
|
can... BLINKS a "yes" back at him.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(to Fitzgerald and
|
|
BRIDGER)
|
|
As long as necessary.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I'll look after him.
|
|
|
|
Henry turns... leads the men into the trees... toward the
|
|
Grand... toward Fort Union.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
What's left of a small fire is nothing but smoldering ash.
|
|
Bridger crouches beside Glass, pouring a thin stream of broth
|
|
between his lips. Fitzgerald reaches in... grabs Glass'
|
|
Anstadt leaning against the tree.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I'll take first watch.
|
|
29.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Not with his rifle.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Trust me, kid, he ain't gonna be
|
|
needin' it tonight.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald disappears into the trees.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Pig stands on a ridge, scouting a course. He waves back to
|
|
Henry and the others. They start toward him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass conscious on the ground... that same labored breathing.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - ON FITZGERALD...
|
|
|
|
...smiling down at Glass as he grabs the Anstadt, holds it...
|
|
runs his hand down the barrel, as comfortable as if it were
|
|
his own.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
You were right to protect this.
|
|
|
|
Then he disappears... and we're left alone, staring up at the
|
|
branches above us... the evening sky... accompanied by Glass'
|
|
deathly breaths.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CREEK - DAY
|
|
|
|
Bridger kneels beside the stream, filling canteens.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - DAY
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald sits bored against a tree, twisting a knife in his
|
|
hands... flipping it point first into the dirt... grabbing...
|
|
repeating... twist... flip... thwack. And as he does, his
|
|
eyes are locked on Glass.
|
|
30.
|
|
|
|
Finally, Fitzgerald snaps the knife from the dirt, stands,
|
|
and walks over to Glass. Glass is asleep. Fitzgerald
|
|
crouches down over him... eyes his red, infected wounds.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(WHISPERS)
|
|
When are you gonna die, boy?
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald reaches out with the blade... gently touches one
|
|
of the threads holding Glass' throat together. And when he
|
|
does, GLASS' EYES FLY OPEN... focus on Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald doesn't even flinch... just holds that knife tip
|
|
there against Glass' throat.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
I'm nearly a week behind Henry's
|
|
bunch on accounta havin' to tend to
|
|
you. Be easier on us all if you'd
|
|
take that last breath.
|
|
|
|
The two men hold a stare... until Fitzgerald pulls back the
|
|
knife... grabs a bloodstained rag from beside them... balls
|
|
it up in his fist.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
I could help ya with that if you'd
|
|
like. Muzzle ya right now... end
|
|
all this sufferin' quick and easy.
|
|
Nobody'd ever know you give up.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald moves the rag over Glass' nose and mouth... holds
|
|
it there, just inches above.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
You just gimme a blink if you want
|
|
me to do it.
|
|
|
|
Glass locks his eyes on Fitzgerald's... both men unblinking.
|
|
|
|
A DROP OF BLOOD hangs from the rag... finally falls... lands
|
|
on Glass' lips.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald almost smiles, waiting for the inevitable... as
|
|
Glass stares back, fighting the urge to blink.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly Bridger's hand clamps down on Fitzgerald's shoulder.
|
|
Fitzgerald spins... startled.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER (O.S.)
|
|
What's goin' on?
|
|
31.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald jumps with a start, sees it's Bridger, and is
|
|
pissed that Bridger scared him... and interrupted his
|
|
business. He rises quickly, planting his meaty hand in
|
|
Bridger's chest, and SLAMMING HIM BACK AGAINST A TREE.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Don't you ever question me, you
|
|
little piss-ant.
|
|
|
|
Bridger tries to fight back, but Fitzgerald's too strong...
|
|
holds him pressed against the tree... slams a heavy elbow
|
|
into Bridger's mouth, splitting his lip.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
I'd just as soon leave both you and
|
|
your nigger here to rot. `Cept
|
|
killin' you ain't worth givin' up
|
|
your share.
|
|
(LEANS CLOSER)
|
|
But that don't mean I can't be
|
|
coaxed into changin' my mind.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald shoves him away... Bridger stumbles and falls.
|
|
Fitzgerald tosses the bloody rag at him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
And I was just doin' your job...
|
|
cleanin' him up.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald grabs Glass' Anstadt, almost daring Bridger to say
|
|
something. Of course Bridger doesn't. Fitzgerald walks
|
|
toward the trees.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Why don't ya pour some more broth
|
|
down his throat... keep him alive
|
|
another week so we can fall farther
|
|
back. End up walkin' all the way
|
|
to Fort Union on our own. `Ree
|
|
would love to poach on just two.
|
|
(turns to Bridger)
|
|
I promise ya, you'll look a helluva
|
|
lot worse than Glass when they're
|
|
done with you.
|
|
|
|
Bridger watches him disappear into the trees... wipes the
|
|
blood from his lip with a trembling hand.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
32.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
From high above the trees. The world is silent... peaceful...
|
|
until SEVERAL STARTLED CROWS shoot up from the treetops.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLACK...
|
|
|
|
...the sound of FRENZIED BREATHING.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (V.O.)
|
|
(PANICKED WHISPER)
|
|
Bridger! Get your ass up!
|
|
|
|
Dim light fills the frame... then FITZGERALD'S FACE right in
|
|
front of us.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
`Ree.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER - SCRAMBLES UP FROM UNDER HIS BLANKET, WIPING THE
|
|
SLEEP FROM HIS FRIGHTENED EYES.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Keep quiet. I was down at the
|
|
creek... there's twenty of `em at
|
|
least, comin' this way.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Oh, shit. Whatta we do?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
We run. Now.
|
|
|
|
And Fitzgerald's just whispering, but it's with such power
|
|
that Bridger has no response... watches as Fitzgerald gathers
|
|
his bag, starts throwing in food and supplies. Bridger is
|
|
scared out of his mind... does the same... grabs for his
|
|
rifle, resting near Glass.
|
|
|
|
Bridger freezes... in his panic, he'd forgotten all about
|
|
Glass. And now the wounded man's eyes stare up at him...
|
|
understanding perfectly what's happening around him.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What about Glass?
|
|
33.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
He's on his own, same as us.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I can't leave him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Then I'm talkin' to a dead man.
|
|
|
|
Glass gives Bridger the slightest of nods... go. But
|
|
Bridger's frozen... doesn't know what to do... until
|
|
Fitzgerald shoves him back to life.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Move.
|
|
|
|
Glass reaches out a weak hand out for his Anstadt... clawing
|
|
for his weapon. Bridger starts to hand it to Glass, but
|
|
Fitzgerald grabs it first.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What're you doin'? He needs that.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
He couldn't hold it if you tarred
|
|
it to his hands.
|
|
|
|
Glass strains to hold out his trembling hand for his gun.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
It's his goddamn rifle! That's all
|
|
he's got!
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
And more than he'll need.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald scoops up Glass' knife as well.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
We can't leave him with nothin'.
|
|
|
|
But Fitzgerald is already sprinting away... disappearing into
|
|
the trees. Glass stares after him, his once-calm eyes
|
|
suddenly filled with a rage. And Bridger's frozen again,
|
|
lost between duty and fear... until finally, he just shakes
|
|
his head and takes off into the trees.
|
|
|
|
Glass's empty hand falls back to the ground... he tries to
|
|
yell out in anger, but his throat EXPLODES IN PAIN. His hand
|
|
digs into the dirt... pulls him over onto his side. He flops
|
|
over to his stomach... GASPS IN PAIN...
|
|
34.
|
|
then using his one good arm, drags himself over the dirt, his
|
|
healthy leg pushing weakly at the ground, trying to propel
|
|
him forward... a futile chase after Fitzgerald and Bridger...
|
|
|
|
...inch by inch... farther than he's been in days. But it's
|
|
still only a few yards, and now he lies in the open... a
|
|
clear target for the Arikara.
|
|
|
|
Then he spots that hole... the grave Fitzgerald dug for him.
|
|
He grunts into action... grabs SEVERAL, THIN BROKEN BRANCHES
|
|
from the ground, then claws forward, each movement
|
|
excruciating... until finally, he reaches the hole, and ROLLS
|
|
INTO IT... lands with a PAINFUL CRUNCH.
|
|
|
|
He rests there a moment, trying to regain any ounce of
|
|
strength. Finally he fights through the pain... shoves the
|
|
branches back up... spreading them across the hole as
|
|
camouflage... a thin veil, but all that Glass has.
|
|
|
|
He lies there defenseless... INSIDE HIS OWN GRAVE. Hiding...
|
|
listening for the Arikara's arrival... waiting to die.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - OUT OF THE GRAVE... TIGHT AND CLAUSTROPHOBIC...
|
|
JUST THE NIGHT SKY THROUGH THOSE BRANCHES... AND THE SOUND OF
|
|
HIS PAINFUL BREATHS.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Cold and grey. Fitzgerald crouches beside a small fire,
|
|
warming his hands. WHISPS OF SMOKE rise into the sky.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
We ran the better part of six
|
|
hours. Had to gain some ground on
|
|
Henry and them others.
|
|
|
|
Bridger sits at the base of a tree, not listening...
|
|
staring... his mind replaying the desertion of Glass over and
|
|
over. He notices the smoke.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Best douse that smoke before them
|
|
`Ree spot it.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
We put enough distance between us
|
|
and them. And it's too damn cold
|
|
to go without one.
|
|
35.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
All we know, they hoofed it through
|
|
the night same as us.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(shakes his head)
|
|
A dozen `Ree can't make the time us
|
|
two did.
|
|
|
|
Bridger looks back to the trees... then considers something,
|
|
stares at Fitzgerald a beat, before...
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
It was twenty earlier.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
What?
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
When you woke me... you said you'd
|
|
spotted twenty `Ree.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
A dozen... twenty. I wasn't in a
|
|
mood to count feathers. Hell, one
|
|
`Ree woulda been too many.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald empties his canteen over the fire, killing the
|
|
flames. Bridger stares at the water pouring out.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
What was you even doin' down at the
|
|
creak in the middle of the night?
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
I'd already brought plenty a water.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald doesn't answer. Bridger tightens his grip on his
|
|
rifle... slowly rises.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER (CONT'D)
|
|
Answer me.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Don't start questionin' me on
|
|
accounta you feelin' guilty `bout
|
|
leavin' your nigger buddy behind.
|
|
|
|
Bridger musters up all the courage he can... aims his rifle
|
|
at Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
ANSWER ME OR I BLOW YOUR DAMN HEAD
|
|
OFF!
|
|
36.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald stares back at Bridger and his rifle... eyes
|
|
taking in everything... a snake sizing up its prey. Then
|
|
Fitzgerald stands... takes a step toward the boy.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
What're you askin'? Why it was you
|
|
turned your back on Glass? Why you
|
|
let him die to save your own sorry
|
|
skin?
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
`Cause you was scared shitless,
|
|
that's why.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
The `Ree... did you see `em?
|
|
(off Fitzgerald's silence)
|
|
DID YOU SEE `EM?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(MOVING CLOSER)
|
|
Not a one.
|
|
|
|
Bridger CRIES OUT... starts to pull the trigger, when
|
|
Fitzgerald's hand flashes out, grabbing the barrel, and
|
|
shoving the butt back into Bridger's face... THWACK.
|
|
|
|
The force of the blow knocks Bridger back to the ground, but
|
|
Fitzgerald holds his grip on the rifle barrel... flips it
|
|
around to aim it at the boy. Blood drips down Bridger's head
|
|
as he stares up at his rifle pointed down.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald's finger tightens on the trigger.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
So that there is the answer to your
|
|
question.
|
|
|
|
And Fitzgerald PULLS THE TRIGGER... AND BRIDGER SQUEEZES HIS
|
|
EYES SHUT IN FEAR... THEN CLICK. Bridger opens his eyes...
|
|
sees Fitzgerald sneering down at him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
And the next time you aim to kill
|
|
somebody, kid, best remember your
|
|
gun won't fire without a flint.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald tosses the rifle back at Bridger, and turns away.
|
|
Bridger's face flushes with rage and humiliation... he
|
|
charges Fitzgerald from behind... tackles him to the
|
|
ground... starts pounding Fitzgerald with punches.
|
|
|
|
A few of them land, but it's only a moment before Fitzgerald
|
|
is back in control... HEAD-BUTTING Bridger off of him...
|
|
37.
|
|
tossing him away, then KICKING BRIDGER IN THE STOMACH...
|
|
AGAIN. He grabs his knife... is ready to finish Bridger
|
|
off...
|
|
|
|
...but Fitzgerald is smart enough to know that out here, two
|
|
are safer than one... even when one is just a kid. He starts
|
|
walking away.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I'm goin' back for him.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Far as we ran all night, you
|
|
couldn't find Glass with dogs and a
|
|
map. And I don't believe you
|
|
really want to. `Cause after
|
|
leavin' him to die the first time,
|
|
I doubt he'd be too happy to see
|
|
you now.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald digs at the dirt with the knife... covers the
|
|
fire's remains.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
And just so we're clear. If you
|
|
try to backtrack without me
|
|
knowin', or ever get so guilty you
|
|
feel the need to tell somebody.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald looks at Bridger... hard... evil.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
I'll have no choice but to gut you
|
|
from nuts to nose.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald stares his point home, then shoves the blade into
|
|
his belt, and stands.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Now let's go.
|
|
|
|
Bridger wipes the blood from his face, then throws one last
|
|
glance behind him before following Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Empty and quiet... no sign of life... until GLASS' HAND RISES
|
|
BETWEEN THE BRANCHES. His fingers dig into the earth,
|
|
pulling himself up from the hole... a dead man climbing out
|
|
of his own grave.
|
|
|
|
He rolls out to the ground... arches in pain when his back
|
|
hits the cold, hard surface.
|
|
38.
|
|
Glass lies there shivering, regaining what little strength he
|
|
has, then rolls over... starts dragging himself again with
|
|
that one good arm. He makes it to the blanket... wraps it
|
|
around him.
|
|
|
|
Glass rests there in the center of camp... unable to move...
|
|
his eyes scanning the surroundings... no food... no water...
|
|
and he's wide open in this clearing... an easy target for any
|
|
predator. So he grabs his Possibles bag and GUNPOWDER HORN,
|
|
and drags himself toward the cover of brush.
|
|
|
|
And every movement takes all the will Glass has... a push
|
|
with his good leg followed by a pull with his healthy arm...
|
|
inch by inch... foot by foot... sweat pouring down his face
|
|
as he finally reaches the cover of the trees... continues
|
|
on... dragging himself across the forest floor in a
|
|
desperate, hopeless crawl for survival.
|
|
|
|
But finally it's too much for Glass... the fever and pain
|
|
overwhelm him. He collapses... falls unconscious.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass lies in the dirt, weak... dehydrated... starving. He
|
|
looks at his hands... scratched and bloody from clawing his
|
|
weight.
|
|
|
|
He unwraps his small, leather Possibles bag... dumps it to
|
|
the ground, revealing it contents... flints, a straight
|
|
razor, his map, and a LEATHER NECKLACE WITH THE SIX-INCH BEAR
|
|
CLAW attached. Glass grabs the razor... cuts SEVERAL THIN
|
|
STRIPS FROM THE BLANKET, and wraps them around his hands.
|
|
|
|
He shoves the rest back in the bag, and does the only thing
|
|
he can do... start crawling again... push with his healthy
|
|
leg... pull with his good arm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER
|
|
|
|
Glass dragging himself up a steep slope... over rocks... the
|
|
jagged edges catching the wounds... tearing the primitive
|
|
stitching. The gashes rip wider... blood oozes down, leaving
|
|
a crimson trail dripping down the rock behind him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The wind is howling through the trees. Glass lies beneath a
|
|
cluster of brush... shivering... bleeding. Every aching
|
|
breath creates a puff of smoke in the cold, night air.
|
|
39.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. MARSH - DAY
|
|
|
|
Thick with a sea of four-foot high Cattails... like miniature
|
|
cornstalks. Looking down from above the marsh we see a two-
|
|
foot wide path of crushed plants that reaches the center of
|
|
the marsh, and stops.
|
|
|
|
We tighten on the end of the path, until we see Glass lying
|
|
among the Cattails. He's sawing off one of the stalks with
|
|
the straight razor... peeling away the husk, and eating the
|
|
tender flesh beneath.
|
|
|
|
Mosquitoes move in clouds around him... over his face...
|
|
arms. But Glass' injured body only allows him one action at
|
|
a time, so the mosquitoes have their fill of him, as he gnaws
|
|
on the Cattail.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass pulling himself along the ground... stopping to tear a
|
|
FEW BERRIES from a plant, and shove them in his mouth. He
|
|
flinches as he swallows. He starts to move again, but
|
|
freezes... listens... RUSHING WATER.
|
|
|
|
Glass digs his fingers into the ground with new energy...
|
|
pulls himself toward the sound... up over a ridge... and
|
|
there it is at the bottom of the ridge...
|
|
|
|
...THE GRAND RIVER... WATER. Glass crawls down toward it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass drags himself to the river's edge, cupping handfuls of
|
|
water and rubbing it over his parched lips... withstanding
|
|
the pain to gulp it down.
|
|
|
|
As he does, Glass notices a FISH hovering in the shallows
|
|
beside him. He makes a desperate grab for the fish, but it
|
|
darts easily away.
|
|
|
|
Glass cups more water to his mouth, but with each drink, he
|
|
feels the water leak from a hole in his throat... run down
|
|
his neck. He leans out over the surface to check his
|
|
reflection... barely recognizes the swollen, stitched-
|
|
together, disfigured face staring back at him. He fights off
|
|
the urge to vomit... pulls the razor from the leather bag,
|
|
and cuts more strips of blanket, soaking them in the river,
|
|
then cleaning his wounds.
|
|
40.
|
|
|
|
He runs a finger up to his shredded throat... around the
|
|
open, wet hole. He cups another handful of water to his
|
|
mouth... strains to swallow, then feels the liquid GURGLE OUT
|
|
OF THE HOLE.
|
|
|
|
Glass shoves the cloth against the wound... tries to press
|
|
the flesh together... no good. He dumps out his Possibles
|
|
bag... stares at the meager contents. He picks up one of the
|
|
flints... looks to the powderhorn.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON A SMALL CLUMP OF DRIED GRASS...
|
|
|
|
...as Glass SPARKS one of the flints... ignites the grass.
|
|
As the fire grows, Glass pours a handful of GUNPOWDER from
|
|
the horn, and RUBS IT ALL OVER THE HOLE IN HIS THROAT.
|
|
|
|
He lifts several small blades of burning grass... a miniature
|
|
torch. And only then do we realize what he's about to do...
|
|
because he stares at the flame a beat, then raises it toward
|
|
his gunpowder-covered throat.
|
|
|
|
The flame nears the black powder, and LEAPS OFF THE GRASS,
|
|
igniting the powder, and SETTING GLASS'S NECK ON FIRE.
|
|
|
|
Glass falls back to the ground in agony... TRIES TO SCREAM,
|
|
but his burning, shredded vocal chords won't allow him.
|
|
|
|
The gunpowder sizzles and burns... the flame spreads...
|
|
Glass' flesh sears... melts. And the pain is too much for
|
|
Glass... he passes out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS... looking dead beside the river, but we know
|
|
he's alive because we can hear those same painful, raspy
|
|
breaths.
|
|
|
|
And then we hear something else... an O.S. RATTLING, growing
|
|
LOUDER... FASTER... BUZZING... until Glass' eyes flash open.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - ON A RATTLESNAKE COILED INCHES FROM HIS FACE.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares back in horror... has time to throw up his arm
|
|
in protection as the snake STRIKES... SINKS ITS FANGS INTO
|
|
HIS FOREARM.
|
|
41.
|
|
He shakes it free, but can't escape the snake's next
|
|
strike... locking its jaws onto Glass' burned throat. Glass
|
|
opens his mouth to scream.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
And Glass' eyes flying open in the glaring sun, as he awakens
|
|
from his nightmare... looks to his arm... no snake. His hand
|
|
instinctively jumps to his melted throat. No bites.
|
|
|
|
But that's when he hears it... we all do... that same
|
|
RATTLING FROM HIS DREAM. Glass slowly turns his head toward
|
|
the sound...
|
|
|
|
...and there's a RATTLESNAKE COILED just a few feet away.
|
|
Only it isn't poised to attack Glass. It's facing the other
|
|
way, its target a FIELD MOUSE, trapped against a rock.
|
|
|
|
The snake attacks, sinking its fangs into the mouse. The
|
|
field mouse tumbles over... quivers as the poison runs
|
|
through its body, then dies.
|
|
|
|
As Glass watches the snake begin to make a meal of the mouse,
|
|
his hand grips a rock. He drags himself toward the occupied
|
|
snake... raises the rock high, then SMASHES IT DOWN ON THE
|
|
SNAKE'S HEAD.
|
|
|
|
Glass immediately pulls the razor from his bag, and slices
|
|
off the rattlesnake's head, the field mouse still lodged
|
|
halfway inside. Glass then drags the razor down the length
|
|
of the snake... digs his fingers under the fresh seam, then
|
|
peels the outer layer down off the rattler.
|
|
|
|
With the skin still hanging off the round tube of flesh,
|
|
Glass BITES INTO THE SNAKE, tearing off a chunk of meat. He
|
|
gobbles it down, slowing only to painfully swallow the food
|
|
past his injured throat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON THE REMAINS OF THE SNAKE...
|
|
|
|
...the head, skin, and not much else.
|
|
|
|
GLASS - at the water's edge, drinking... touching his
|
|
charred, melted throat... no leaks. He opens his Possibles
|
|
bag... pulls out the GRIZZLY CLAW NECKLACE... stares at it a
|
|
beat, then slips it over his head.
|
|
42.
|
|
|
|
He drags out the map... spreads it on the ground, then throws
|
|
a glance around him... fingers the point on the blue line...
|
|
a rough guess of his location.
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON THE MAP...
|
|
|
|
...Fort Union at the top... hundreds of miles north. Fort
|
|
Brazeau south... but not nearly as far away.
|
|
|
|
Glass gazes north up the Grand, as if he can see Fitzgerald
|
|
and Bridger just ahead of him. Then he looks back down to
|
|
his reflection in the water... battered and scarred. He
|
|
looks to his leg... all but worthless for now... his one good
|
|
arm. It's clear he's not ready to take revenge on anyone.
|
|
|
|
So Glass shoves the map back into the bag... ties it around
|
|
his arm with the powderhorn and blanket, then grabs a THICK,
|
|
FALLEN LOG, and rolls it into the river. Glass crawls in
|
|
behind it... deeper, until the current grows strong enough to
|
|
carry the weight of his mangled body downstream.
|
|
|
|
Glass drapes his healthy arm over the log, and starts
|
|
floating... letting the river do the work. He watches the
|
|
land move past him faster than it has in days... and without
|
|
all the agony of every move.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Winding through the open prairie. Glass hangs onto the
|
|
log... floats with the gentle current.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - EVENING
|
|
|
|
The sinking sun casts an orange glow over the water. Glass
|
|
floats downstream... past a HERD OF ELK grazing along the
|
|
riverbank. The animals don't even notice him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dark... the moon hidden behind clouds. A heavy mist hangs
|
|
over the river. Glass is draped across the log, eyes
|
|
closed... letting the slow current carry him south. But then
|
|
his eyes open... because he hears something... a LOW RUMBLE.
|
|
|
|
Glass looks to the river banks... too foggy to see anything
|
|
clearly. The RUMBLE GROWS LOUDER. He peers ahead... too
|
|
dark to see much... just ANOTHER SPLINTERED LOG floating in
|
|
front of him, its one jagged branch rising up in the air.
|
|
43.
|
|
|
|
But then THE LOG VANISHES. Glass squints through the fog,
|
|
scanning the surface. But it's gone... the water's empty...
|
|
that LOW RUMBLE GROWS EVEN LOUDER.
|
|
|
|
Glass looks to the water beside him... a BRANCH GLIDES PAST
|
|
AT A HIGHER SPEED. And now Glass knows what's coming, but
|
|
it's too late... because the world suddenly turns upside
|
|
down, as Glass tumbles over the edge of a TWENTY FOOT
|
|
WATERFALL.
|
|
|
|
He spirals downward... crashes into the rushing current.
|
|
He's washed forward with the suddenly violent rapids. They
|
|
pull him under the surface, then toss him GASPING back out.
|
|
|
|
The river carries him blindly through the mist... tossing...
|
|
turning... SLAMMING HIM INTO A HUGE BOULDER... CRACK... he
|
|
spins off, swept away headfirst... the foaming water sucking
|
|
him down the rocky gauntlet.
|
|
|
|
He tumbles over more boulders... his Possibles bag snaps
|
|
loose... Glass makes a grab for it, but is suddenly flipped
|
|
down another set of falls.
|
|
|
|
The Possibles Bag is lost in the raging river.
|
|
|
|
Glass sinks beneath the surface, then floats back up, as the
|
|
rapids calm... spit Glass to the gentle shallows. His body
|
|
drifts face-down toward shore.
|
|
|
|
And just when we're sure Glass has to finally be dead, his
|
|
arm reaches up from the water... he digs his fingers into the
|
|
muddy bank, and drags himself out of the river.
|
|
|
|
Glass collapses unconscious to the ground, his body shrouded
|
|
in that mist.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
TIGHT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF GLASS' FACE... the right still
|
|
pressed into the muddy bank. The sun beats down... then
|
|
SHADOWS APPEAR... BOUNCE ACROSS HIM... something is standing
|
|
over Glass.
|
|
|
|
And then a VULTURE'S HEAD DROPS INTO FRAME...
|
|
|
|
...latches its beak onto Glass' cheek... tugs at it...
|
|
stretches it. Glass' eyes pop open... we PULL BACK to see
|
|
THREE VULTURES surrounding Glass' body, pecking and clawing
|
|
at his battered wounds.
|
|
44.
|
|
|
|
Glass swings his good arm, knocking one of the vultures away.
|
|
He tries to cry out, but only that PRIMITIVE HISS ERUPTS from
|
|
his throat.
|
|
|
|
The vultures dance away from his flailing... aren't willing
|
|
to give up their meal so easily... dart in for quick attacks
|
|
on his flesh.
|
|
|
|
Glass grasps a branch... swings at the birds, beating them
|
|
back. The vultures give up the battle... fly away.
|
|
|
|
Glass crumbles back to the ground... squints up into the
|
|
sun... the SILHOUETTES OF THE VULTURES CIRCLING ABOVE HIM...
|
|
waiting for him to die.
|
|
|
|
Glass looks down to his wounds, again oozing blood. He
|
|
glances around... sees a ridge just a few hundred yards away.
|
|
|
|
At the base of the ridge, a GIANT BOULDER has broken free,
|
|
creating a partial cave. Glass starts crawling toward it.
|
|
And if it's possible, he looks even closer to death now than
|
|
when he started this journey.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAVE - DAY
|
|
|
|
No more than ten feet deep, but enough to hide from
|
|
predators. Glass drags himself as far back in the recess as
|
|
he can... collapses against the rock wall.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CAVE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass gathers loose sticks and grass into a small pile...
|
|
begins sparking rocks together to build a fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CAVE - LATER
|
|
|
|
The fire burns beside Glass, as he TEARS A SINGLE THREAD of
|
|
cloth from the tattered blanket, then feeds it through a tiny
|
|
hole in a JAGGED, NEEDLE-SIZED SLIVER OF SHARPENED ROCK... a
|
|
man-made needle and thread.
|
|
|
|
Glass goes to work on the open wounds of his chest...
|
|
piercing his skin with the rock... wincing with pain as he
|
|
tugs the thread through the fresh hole in his skin... pierces
|
|
the other side of the wound, then pulls the flesh tightly
|
|
together... before repeating the excruciating process all
|
|
over again... pierce... pull... pierce... tighten.
|
|
45.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The moon's glow reflects off the water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CAVE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS' HAND...
|
|
|
|
...holding a small sharp stone, and SCRATCHING LETTERS INTO
|
|
THE CAVE'S ROCK WALL.
|
|
|
|
WE PAN DOWN TO THE GROUND... still listening to the
|
|
SCRATCHING OF THE ROCK as we glide across the dirt... reach
|
|
the fire... its flame warm and strong. We TIGHTEN ON THE
|
|
FIRE, until WE'RE INSIDE IT... and then WE PULL BACK...
|
|
|
|
...and we see the fire has long died away... just black ash.
|
|
The O.S. SCRATCHING has silenced. We glide back across the
|
|
cave floor... to Glass unconscious on the ground. And above
|
|
him on the wall, we see what he had been scratching...
|
|
|
|
"Robbed and left to die by Fitzgerald and Bridger. If find
|
|
eether kill for Hugh Glass"
|
|
|
|
We hold on those words a beat, then...
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
DROPS OF RAIN dot the surface. THUNDER RUMBLES... the rain
|
|
grows heavier.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAVE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Rain pouring... gullies of water run down the ridge, spewing
|
|
over the mouth of the cave. But inside, Glass doesn't
|
|
stir... lying there just as we last saw him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Rain coming down in buckets. The river's raging.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Clouds drift across the moon... the storm has ended.
|
|
46.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAVE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Sunny and clear. A rabbit hops along... stops for a moment
|
|
outside the cave. Beyond it, Glass is still sprawled on the
|
|
cave floor... he must be dead. The rabbit continues on past.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CAVE - DAY
|
|
|
|
TIGHT ON GLASS' FACE... as his eyes flutter open. He stares
|
|
straight ahead, unmoving.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAVE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass crawls out of the crevice... shields his eyes from the
|
|
sun, as he takes in the scene.
|
|
|
|
The river has sunk back to normal, leaving the banks battered
|
|
and muddy. The water is thick and brown with all the flooded
|
|
earth it pulled up.
|
|
|
|
Glass uses all his strength to rise up to his knees, then
|
|
higher... onto his healthy leg. He braces himself against a
|
|
tree. He's still crooked and hunched over, but for the first
|
|
time since the Grizzly attack, he looks more like a man than
|
|
an animal. He bends down... picks up a BROKEN TREE BRANCH.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass limps along the bank... beside the brown water stirred
|
|
up from the flood. He moves along the washed-out area,
|
|
searching for food... grabs some plants... tears them from
|
|
the ground to chew on the roots.
|
|
|
|
He continues on... spots a DEAD SNAPPING TURTLE drowned in
|
|
the flood, frozen on its back. Glass kneels down to pick up
|
|
the turtle... sniffs it. As he does, he spots something
|
|
across the river... a DEER, staring back at him.
|
|
|
|
Glass slowly raises his IMAGINARY RIFLE... takes careful aim
|
|
at the deer... pulls the trigger. If only he had his Anstadt.
|
|
|
|
But then the deer's head snaps... to something beyond Glass.
|
|
Glass follows the animal's eyes... turns to the ridge... and
|
|
the FIVE ARIKARA WARRIORS STANDING AT GLASS' CAVE.
|
|
|
|
Glass drops flat to the ground behind a tree uprooted in the
|
|
flood. He looks back across the river... THE DEER IS LONG
|
|
GONE.
|
|
47.
|
|
|
|
Glass inches his head up over the tree... to the warriors now
|
|
crouched outside the cave... studying the tracks.
|
|
|
|
Glass' eyes jump to the soft dirt along the river... HIS
|
|
FOOTPRINTS CLEAR... an obvious trail leading right to him.
|
|
He throws a glance around... nowhere to run even if he could.
|
|
So he starts backing into the river on his stomach... feet-
|
|
first... dragging a small branch over the tracks around him,
|
|
wiping them away as he moves. And his eyes are locked on the
|
|
Arikara... watching to see if they spot him.
|
|
|
|
But they haven't yet, and Glass keeps sliding backward...
|
|
five feet off shore... only three feet deep in the murky
|
|
water and sludge. But if he goes any further, the current
|
|
will catch him... pull him into the next set of violent
|
|
rapids... and make him a clear target.
|
|
|
|
The Arikara follow the tracks down from the cave.
|
|
|
|
Glass sinks neck-deep into the water... the Arikara keep
|
|
coming... near the river. So Glass drops beneath the surface.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
UNDERWATER -
|
|
|
|
And Glass' eyes spread wide... searching the muddy water. He
|
|
grabs a LARGE ROCK... rolls onto his back, and places the
|
|
rock on his stomach, its weight holding him firmly to the
|
|
river bottom.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON THE ARIKARA WARRIORS... following Glass' tracks to
|
|
the edge of the river... looking out over the brown river.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
UNDERWATER -
|
|
|
|
Glass pressing his head back against the bottom... staring up
|
|
through the cloudy water... to the FIVE SHADOWS STANDING ONLY
|
|
A FEW FEET AWAY.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. GRAND RIVER - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
The Arikara... unknowingly standing just above Glass...
|
|
looking back to the tracks... scanning the water. But the
|
|
surface is empty, and the river's too thick with mud to see
|
|
anything below.
|
|
48.
|
|
|
|
But they keep looking... and we're waiting for Glass to
|
|
explode from the river, gasping for air. But he doesn't...
|
|
and they keep scanning for what seems an eternity, until
|
|
finally, the warriors turn... start walking back up the path.
|
|
|
|
Behind them, Glass' face inches to the surface... pulls in
|
|
some oxygen... watches as they fade into the trees.
|
|
|
|
Then Glass rolls the rock away... starts moving deeper into
|
|
the river... fighting the current to grab rocks and
|
|
boulders... pulling himself to the other side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass limps through the trees, still dripping with the muddy
|
|
water of the Grand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER
|
|
|
|
Glass is on his knees, desperately grabbing for a TINY FIELD
|
|
MOUSE. The rodent escapes into a hole. Glass claws at the
|
|
ground after it. He's starving to death.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The rain beating down through the trees. Glass huddles in a
|
|
cluster of bushes, trying to stay dry... shivering in the
|
|
cold. He reaches out from the cover, grabbing his moccasin
|
|
boot standing in the rain. He pulls it in... slurps back the
|
|
rainfall that it's caught.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. PRAIRIE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass limps slowly across the rolling prairie. He's weak...
|
|
starving... isn't going to make it much further. He drops to
|
|
his hands and knees.
|
|
|
|
And then he feels something... the ground almost trembling
|
|
under his hands. He watches his hands quiver with vibration.
|
|
A RUMBLE BUILDS. Glass strains to hear... looks to the crest
|
|
of a hill... labors up the gentle slope toward the sound.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. PRAIRIE/HILL - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass reaches the crest... looks over the other side to a
|
|
HERD OF BUFFALO THUNDERING ACROSS THE PRAIRIE.
|
|
49.
|
|
|
|
An incredible site... hundreds of massive creatures... their
|
|
hooves tearing up the earth, leaving a cloud of dust behind
|
|
them.
|
|
|
|
Behind the herd, a PACK OF WOLVES FIGHT OVER A FALLEN
|
|
BUFFALO.
|
|
|
|
Glass lies in the high grass, watching the wolves SNARL AND
|
|
SNAP over the remains. And he eyes that buffalo... the
|
|
closest he's been to food in days.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. PLAINS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
The five wolves rest around the downed buffalo, their snouts
|
|
bloody from the meal. Suddenly, one of the wolves' heads
|
|
snaps up... bares its teeth... SNARLS.
|
|
|
|
And then we see what the wolf is growling at... Glass...
|
|
limping out of the shadows toward the animals, holding a
|
|
BURNING SAGE BUSH IN EACH HAND... like giant FLAMING HANDS
|
|
clawing in the night.
|
|
|
|
The wolves jump to their feet, unsure of what's approaching.
|
|
They growl at Glass. But Glass keeps coming... doing his
|
|
best to YELL... more like GROWL back at the wolves. He
|
|
swings the flaming brush, tossing glowing sparks through the
|
|
air.
|
|
|
|
The wolves spread out, instinctively surrounding Glass. But
|
|
Glass singles out each one... charges, waving the flames...
|
|
driving each wolf back.
|
|
|
|
Four of the wolves back away, but the leader holds its
|
|
ground... even moves toward Glass... only a few feet away...
|
|
SNARLING... bloody jaws ready to attack, but still not sure
|
|
what its up against.
|
|
|
|
Glass shakes the flames at the wolf... it SNAPS AT GLASS'
|
|
ARM. Glass swings the other... slams the fiery plant across
|
|
the wolf's head.
|
|
|
|
The wolf YELPS... leaps back... starts to run away, but turns
|
|
back... makes another charge at Glass. But Glass is ready...
|
|
throws the flaming ball of sage at the wolf, then clubs it
|
|
with the other. The animal's fur begins to burn.
|
|
|
|
The frightened wolf has had enough... rolls on the ground,
|
|
then spins to join the rest of its pack. They run a safe
|
|
distance, then stop... keeping a watch on Glass.
|
|
50.
|
|
|
|
Glass drags the burning sage bushes along the ground,
|
|
igniting the grass and brush... creating a foot-high flaming
|
|
wall between him and the wolves.
|
|
|
|
He stretches the flame into a circle, a fiery ring surrounds
|
|
the fallen buffalo.
|
|
|
|
The wolves have seen enough... turn... race away from the
|
|
flames.
|
|
|
|
As the grass around him burns, Glass drops the sage plants...
|
|
attacks the buffalo remains, tearing away bloody chunks of
|
|
flesh from the carcass, and shoving them into his mouth... a
|
|
starving animal that's finally found food.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. PRAIRIE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
From high above the prairie... Glass and the buffalo at the
|
|
center of that glowing ring of fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY
|
|
|
|
The wind's gusting... bending the high golden grass over on
|
|
its side. Glass moves slowly across, pulling his collar up
|
|
to shield his face from the cold winds. He spots something
|
|
in the distant sky ahead... a THIN LINE OF BLACK SMOKE.
|
|
Glass picks up his pace... hope spurring him on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
The charred, skeletal remains of a tribe's village... just
|
|
black posts where tee-pees once stood... a half-burned log
|
|
lodge still smokes, sending that black line into the sky.
|
|
|
|
Glass limps through the graveyard of structures... all signs
|
|
of life in this village long gone. He searches a basket...
|
|
pulls out a BLANKET... wraps it around his shoulders.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. LODGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass steps into the smoky warmth of the lodge... black and
|
|
empty. He slides down to the floor... unwraps strips of
|
|
roasted buffalo from what's left of his blanket. He starts to
|
|
take a bite, when SOMETHING DARTS PAST THE DOORWAY TO THE
|
|
BACK ROOM. The O.S. SHUFFLING OF FEET.
|
|
|
|
Glass freezes... he isn't alone. He rises... grabs a
|
|
splintered post like a spear... eases toward the doorway...
|
|
raises the post to swing...
|
|
51.
|
|
|
|
...and sees the SMALL PUPPY standing in the back room. The
|
|
dog takes off around a crumbled wall. Glass follows it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
Glass limps across the room... turns the corner of the
|
|
crumbled wall... and sees the dog slide to a stop beside an
|
|
ANCIENT ARIKARA SQUAW, huddled in the corner, her bony arms
|
|
outstretched in front of her in weak defense. And her eyes
|
|
are SOLID WHITE... the old woman is blind. She CRIES OUT A
|
|
CHANT over and over... her death chant, as she waits for this
|
|
stranger to kill her.
|
|
|
|
Glass stands frozen... confused. He tries to speak, but his
|
|
throat still won't let him. He crouches down in front of the
|
|
old woman... reaches for her hand, but she flails him away.
|
|
He grabs her again... gently... just holds it until she
|
|
calms... studying the woman... her hollow face all skin and
|
|
bones... she's obviously dying.
|
|
|
|
He pulls the strip of buffalo meat from his pocket... pushes
|
|
it into the squaw's hand. She immediately jerks it to her
|
|
mouth... and that's when Glass sees the WOMAN HAS NO TEETH...
|
|
she can't eat.
|
|
|
|
Glass turns to an old pot tipped over on the floor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass carries the pot toward a nearby stream. The dog
|
|
scurries out behind him... follows Glass to the water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - DAY
|
|
|
|
The pot boils over burning logs. Glass dips a cup in,
|
|
pulling out a warm broth. He carries it to the squaw, still
|
|
sitting in the corner... takes her hand, placing the cup in
|
|
it for her. She gulps the liquid back.
|
|
|
|
Glass goes back to refill the cup. The old woman MUMBLES
|
|
SOMETHING we can't understand... over and over, as Glass
|
|
brings the cup back to her. He tries to ease it into her
|
|
hand, but the woman pushes it away... slides her hand up
|
|
Glass' arm to his face... patting it... MUMBLING THOSE SAME
|
|
WORDS... thanking Glass.
|
|
52.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass carries several blankets toward the lodge. The puppy
|
|
trails behind him, biting at one of the corners... hanging on
|
|
as Glass pulls him across the dirt.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. LODGE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass enters the back room with the blankets... stops when he
|
|
sees the old woman slumped over to the floor, her white eyes
|
|
frozen open in a lifeless stare.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass has stacked several burned posts into a crude pyre at
|
|
the edge of the village. The squaw lies atop the pyre,
|
|
covered in the blankets he gathered for her. Glass stands
|
|
beside the pyre, a FLAMING TORCH in his hand. The puppy
|
|
rests at his feet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. DISTANT RIDGE - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
THREE INDIANS sit on horseback, watching Glass light the
|
|
pyre... the flames rise into the night.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass crouches... pets the dog, as he watches the flames
|
|
spread... engulf the woman.
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON THE GLOWING EMBERS...
|
|
|
|
...floating into the night. Beyond the sparks, we see
|
|
something else... THOSE THREE INDIANS GALLOPING TOWARD THE
|
|
VILLAGE... FAST.
|
|
|
|
And now Glass sees them too... knows it's too late to run, so
|
|
he just stands there. But the dog's seen enough... darts
|
|
away.
|
|
|
|
Glass watches the Indians ride into the village... their
|
|
braided hair and dress is different than the Arikara we've
|
|
seen earlier, because these are SIOUX WARRIORS, and Glass
|
|
knows it.
|
|
|
|
The Sioux surround Glass on horseback... stare down at Glass.
|
|
The lead warrior (SPOTTED HORSE), (30's), poised and strong,
|
|
points to the flaming pyre... says something to Glass.
|
|
53.
|
|
|
|
Glass tries to answer... can't... touches his scarred throat.
|
|
Spotted Horse slides gracefully off his horse. The other two
|
|
warriors, (THREE FEATHERS and RUNNING FOX) do the same...
|
|
close in on Glass.
|
|
|
|
Glass stands firm. Spotted Horse says something else to him.
|
|
Again, Glass touches his throat... holds his jacket out from
|
|
his sides... no weapons. Spotted Horse studies Glass hard...
|
|
reaches out, wiping his finger down Glass' cheek, almost
|
|
testing to see if the color comes off.
|
|
|
|
One of the other warriors pats Glass' hair... smiles... says
|
|
something to the others. Spotted Horse and the other warrior
|
|
join him, each touching Glass' hair.
|
|
|
|
Then Spotted Horse spots Glass' necklace... the grizzly claw
|
|
hanging from it. He examines the enormous claw, then nods to
|
|
Glass' stitching and scars.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Griz-lee.
|
|
|
|
Glass hears the familiar word... nods. Three Feathers pulls
|
|
a WHITE SPECK from the back of Glass' neck... holds it up to
|
|
Spotted Horse.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse jerks out his knife. Glass is confused...
|
|
holds up his hand, as he takes a step back. But Three
|
|
Feathers and Running Fox grab Glass... secure him... pull his
|
|
jacket down off his shoulders, exposing his shirt, as Spotted
|
|
Horse walks around behind Glass... raises the knife... Glass
|
|
GROWLS A PLEA... but Spotted Horse slices the knife down
|
|
Glass' back... just cutting open his shirt... and revealing a
|
|
MASS OF WHITE WORMS... MAGGOTS... COVERING THE DEEP GASHES ON
|
|
GLASS' BACK.
|
|
|
|
The three warriors exchange glances... they've obviously
|
|
never seen anything like this. Glass sees their reaction...
|
|
throws a nervous glance... what?
|
|
|
|
Three Feathers runs his hand across Glass' back, dragging a
|
|
HANDFUL OF WORMS for Glass to see. As Glass' eyes widen in
|
|
panic, Spotted Horse SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS KNIFE against
|
|
Glass' head.
|
|
|
|
Glass drops to his knees... makes a dazed grab for Spotted
|
|
Horse... misses... and Spotted Horse HITS GLASS AGAIN. Glass
|
|
tumbles unconscious to the dirt.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse says something to the others... they grab
|
|
Glass' limp arms... drag him toward the horses.
|
|
54.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dozens of glowing campfires dot the prairie, along with a sea
|
|
of tee-pees, their willow poles fanning against the night
|
|
sky. Animal hides and painted designs decorate the various
|
|
tee-pees and lodges. SIOUX CHILDREN laugh and play about the
|
|
village... freeze when they hear Spotted Horse and the other
|
|
riders splash across the stream.
|
|
|
|
The warriors ride into the village, Glass' body tossed over
|
|
the back of Three Feather's horse. The children race to them.
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS... regaining consciousness... eyes blinking...
|
|
trying to focus.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - FROM THE BACK OF THE HORSE...
|
|
|
|
...to the children's eager faces swarming around him...
|
|
studying this strange face.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse - YELLING SOMETHING at the children... they
|
|
back away from Glass... fall into line behind the riders.
|
|
|
|
Sioux MEN and WOMEN watch as the procession moves past... to
|
|
a tee-pee set away from the rest... its hide walls decorated
|
|
with wild lightning bolts and buffalo and vaguely human
|
|
figures circling the sun.
|
|
|
|
An OLD MEDICINE MAN, gnarled and leathery, a DEAD RAVEN tied
|
|
in his long hair, his naked chest painted with red and black
|
|
stripes, steps out of the tee-pee. He eyes Glass, as Three
|
|
Feathers and Running Fox carry him inside.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, the Medicine Man begins CHANTING.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
A FLURRY OF IMAGES ACCOMPANIED BY THE MEDICINE MAN'S V.O.
|
|
CHANTING...
|
|
|
|
LEATHER STRAPS SNAPPING AROUND GLASS' WRISTS AND ANKLES...
|
|
stretched tight.
|
|
|
|
Glass, naked, on his stomach at the center of the tee-pee,
|
|
his arms and legs outstretched, secured to wooden stakes in
|
|
the ground. The white worms cover his back.
|
|
55.
|
|
|
|
The Medicine Man... CHANTING... waving burning sticks in the
|
|
air.
|
|
|
|
A THICK LIQUID BOILING IN A POT... the Medicine Man's twisted
|
|
hand reaching a gourd container in... filling it with the
|
|
steaming mixture.
|
|
|
|
The liquid POURING OVER GLASS' BACK.
|
|
|
|
GLASS' FACE... arched to the sky... twisted in horrible pain.
|
|
He SCREAMS THAT HORRIBLE GROWLING CRY.
|
|
|
|
MORE IMAGES... even faster... the CHANTING more frantic...
|
|
|
|
A SIOUX WOMAN,(WAKI), staring down.
|
|
|
|
HANDS wiping a GREEN SLUDGE over Glass' neck... chest.
|
|
|
|
The Medicine Man dancing... chanting... shaking sticks lined
|
|
with RATTLESNAKE TAILS.
|
|
|
|
The moonlight shining through the tee-pee, illuminating the
|
|
images of the buffalo and dancing shapes.
|
|
|
|
Waki gently pouring fluid into Glass' mouth.
|
|
|
|
The Medicine Man holding the SEVERED HEAD OF A SNAKE...
|
|
lightly sinking the fangs around the wounds on Glass' throat.
|
|
|
|
GLASS' EYES... wide open... rolling up white into his head.
|
|
|
|
AND THE CHANTING STOPS... the world goes dark.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. YELLOWSTONE RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Cutting through the open prairie. Snow-covered peaks touch
|
|
the sky in the distance.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald and Bridger trudge their way across the prairie,
|
|
dressed in furs. They rise up a steep slope... reach the
|
|
top, and spot the cluster of log buildings inside a massive
|
|
thirty-foot tall wooden fence. Fort Union.
|
|
|
|
Bridger smiles... relieved.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
`Bout goddamn time.
|
|
|
|
They start down the slope. Fitzgerald grabs Bridger's arm...
|
|
firmly.
|
|
56.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
And we're understood on
|
|
everything... Glass' dyin' in his
|
|
sleep... us buryin' him like was
|
|
agreed.
|
|
|
|
Bridger doesn't respond. Fitzgerald doesn't like that.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
You're as guilty as me in leavin'
|
|
him. Don't you forget that. You
|
|
got a future up here. No sense
|
|
tossin' it away when he was as good
|
|
as dead already. Shit, all we did
|
|
was skip the funeral.
|
|
|
|
Bridger pulls his arm free... continues on.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
I won't take to givin' up that two-
|
|
hundred on accounta you gettin'
|
|
weak-kneed.
|
|
|
|
Bridger keeps walking. Fitzgerald follows behind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. FORT UNION - DAY
|
|
|
|
Like a small town surrounded by a log wall. The main TRADING
|
|
POST BUILDING is busy... TRAPPERS, SIOUX, all with things to
|
|
trade. But most of the life is in the FORT UNION SALOON next
|
|
door... crowded with customers downstairs, and just as busy
|
|
in the whores' rooms upstairs.
|
|
|
|
A small village of tents rests off to the side of the
|
|
buildings, holding the overflow of traffic.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. SALOON - DAY
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald and Bridger enter the crowded room... squeeze
|
|
their way to the bar.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Twice the folks here than when we
|
|
left.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
We should go see Captain Henry.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Far as we hiked... we got time for
|
|
a drink on the company's tab.
|
|
57.
|
|
|
|
PIG (O.S.)
|
|
Jim!
|
|
|
|
They spin... see Pig, Murphy and Stubby Bill sitting at a
|
|
table. Pig scrambles up... rushes to Bridger, locking him in
|
|
a big bear hug.
|
|
|
|
PIG (CONT'D)
|
|
You made it! I was scared the `Ree
|
|
mighta caught up to ya.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
If your fat ass could get through,
|
|
we didn't have no worries.
|
|
|
|
Pig glares at Fitzgerald... watches him walk to the table,
|
|
joining the others.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
(off Fitzgerald, to
|
|
BRIDGER)
|
|
Had to be a helluva long walk for
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
Bridger nods... Pig has no idea.
|
|
|
|
PIG (CONT'D)
|
|
Hugh?
|
|
|
|
Bridger hesitates a beat, then just shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
PIG (CONT'D)
|
|
Guess we all knowed how it would
|
|
turn out. Did he suffer much more?
|
|
|
|
Another long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I hope not.
|
|
|
|
A PROSTITUTE walks down the stairs... stops on the landing,
|
|
waiting for her next customer. Fitzgerald spots her...
|
|
grins.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(TO BRIDGER)
|
|
Maybe we best go see Henry, kid. I
|
|
just got a itch to spend the first
|
|
of my two-hundred.
|
|
|
|
The other men laugh. Not Bridger.
|
|
58.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Henry sits at his desk. Fitzgerald and Bridger stand across
|
|
from him. The others... Pig, Anderson, Murphy, and Stubby
|
|
Bill crowd the room behind them.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I won't pretend to been his friend,
|
|
but I respect any man that fights
|
|
the way he done.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
And the grave?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
We had those extra days so we went
|
|
deeper... covered it in rocks. To
|
|
keep the scavengers off him.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Any sign of hostiles?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Not a one.
|
|
|
|
The words are like a punch in the gut to Bridger. He can't
|
|
take the pain... opens his mouth to speak, but Fitzgerald
|
|
beats him to it.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
Truth is, I was worried `bout `Ree,
|
|
and ready to get movin', but
|
|
Bridger here argued to stay and
|
|
make a cross for the grave.
|
|
|
|
Bridger's head snaps to Fitzgerald... don't make this worse.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
So that's what we did.
|
|
|
|
Pig reaches up... gives Bridger a pat on the back. But to
|
|
Bridger, it feels like a red-hot blade.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Glad to hear you pulled your
|
|
weight, Mr. Bridger. I knew you
|
|
would.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
More than his share, Captain.
|
|
59.
|
|
|
|
And now Fitzgerald has snared Bridger into his lie. Bridger
|
|
drops his eyes to his feet.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Speaking of shares.
|
|
|
|
Henry turns to a SAFE resting against the wall. Fitzgerald
|
|
watches as Henry spins the dial... locks in the combination,
|
|
then pulls the latch. The safe door swings open...
|
|
|
|
...revealing STACKS OF CASH.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald's eyes lock on all that money. Henry pulls out a
|
|
handful... starts counting them out onto the desk.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
Am I to assume the agreed
|
|
arrangement didn't change?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Fortunate for me, it did not.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Well thank you both for your
|
|
courage and honor. You have done
|
|
yourselves proud.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald swipes up his pile of bills. Henry drops a couple
|
|
bills in front of Bridger.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
You're owed something for what you
|
|
did.
|
|
|
|
Bridger stares down at the bills a beat, then snatches
|
|
them... pushes his way out of the office before he might have
|
|
to look someone in the eye.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
He's beat hisself up most of the
|
|
trip... wishin' he'da done more.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We all saw the shape Glass was in.
|
|
There was no more to be done.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
That's what I been tellin' him.
|
|
60.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. BUNKHOUSE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Empty, except for Bridger curled up on his cot, squeezing
|
|
those crumpled bills in his hand, crying.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. TEE-PEE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass sleeps under a buffalo robe. His eyes flicker open.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS' POV - ON THE BUFFALO AND DANCING FIGURE DESIGNS
|
|
SHADOWED THROUGH THE TEE-PEE.
|
|
|
|
GLASS - His hand reaching up to his throat. It looks much
|
|
better than we last saw. And the stitches are gone from his
|
|
face, now just long, pink scars. He stiffly raises himself
|
|
up... remembers his back... struggles to reach behind him...
|
|
scarred but clean... no maggots.
|
|
|
|
He looks beside him... sees BUCKSKIN PANTS AND SHIRT resting
|
|
on the ground... waiting for him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. TEE-PEE - DAY
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON GLASS... dressed... pushing his way out through the
|
|
flap of the tee-pee... limping out into the midday sun, and
|
|
shielding his eyes. He looks like a man that hasn't seen the
|
|
light of day for weeks.
|
|
|
|
Glass adjusts to the brightness... stares in wonder at the
|
|
scene.
|
|
|
|
And then we see what Glass is looking at, and understand his
|
|
reaction... the entire village is blanketed in snow. The
|
|
Sioux VILLAGERS move about, wearing heavy skins and furs.
|
|
|
|
A WOMEN'S O.S. VOICE turns Glass...
|
|
|
|
...to WAKI, the woman from the images, walking toward him,
|
|
bundled in fur. She says something else we can't
|
|
understand... points to Glass' feet. Glass looks down... to
|
|
his BARE FEET BURIED DEEP IN THE SNOW. He hadn't noticed.
|
|
|
|
And then Waki smiles... a sweet, pretty smile. She takes his
|
|
hand... leads him back into the tee-pee.
|
|
61.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. TEE-PEE - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
Glass and Waki enter. She pulls a pair of moccasins from a
|
|
basket... hands them to Glass.
|
|
|
|
He slips them on, then presses his fingers against his
|
|
throat... almost trying to hold it all inside to make it
|
|
work, then...
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(scratching and rough)
|
|
Thank you.
|
|
|
|
Waki doesn't understand... just raises a cup of liquid...
|
|
says something, then touches his throat... motions for him to
|
|
drink. Glass sips the drink... grimaces... shakes his head,
|
|
trying to give the cup back, but Waki refuses... points at
|
|
his throat, and motions for him to drink. Glass stares in
|
|
the cup a beat, then gulps it back... shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Bad medicine.
|
|
|
|
Waki smiles... hands him his BEAR CLAW NECKLACE. Glass nods
|
|
in thanks, then achingly lifts his arms up to slip it over
|
|
his head.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
How long have I been here?
|
|
|
|
Waki just stares back... no idea what Glass said.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
You're Sioux. I only know a bit a
|
|
Pawnee.
|
|
|
|
Glass stumbles through a sentence of Pawnee. Waki shakes her
|
|
head... throws a jumble of Sioux back at him.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
The snow... my healin'.
|
|
(points to himself)
|
|
Me.
|
|
(points to the ground)
|
|
Here. How long?
|
|
|
|
Waki shakes her head again. Glass leads her outside.
|
|
62.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
Glass points to the sun overhead, then raises both hands,
|
|
fingers outstretched.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
How many suns? Ten?
|
|
|
|
Waki studies Glass... the sun... begins to understand. She
|
|
nods... SAYS A WORD... holds up all ten of her fingers.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Ten suns?
|
|
|
|
Then Waki closes her hands into fists... opens them again...
|
|
closes them again... SAYS A DIFFERENT WORD.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Christ.
|
|
|
|
Glass glances around... for the first time, notices Sioux MEN
|
|
and WOMEN staring at him. Children freeze in the middle of
|
|
their play... all eyes locked on Glass. TWO SMALL BOYS, (NEW
|
|
MOON and LITTLE ONE), repeat the same TWO WORDS to each
|
|
other...
|
|
|
|
BOYS
|
|
Tatanka Wicasa.
|
|
|
|
...over and over.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares back, unsure. Then...
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE (O.S.)
|
|
Buff-A-lo Man.
|
|
|
|
Glass turns... sees Yellow Horse stepping out of a tee-pee.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse (cont'd)
|
|
(very broken english)
|
|
What they call you.
|
|
(points to Glass' hair)
|
|
Fur of Buff-A-lo.
|
|
|
|
Glass touches his hair... nods... smiles. The children smile
|
|
and laugh now too... repeat the words LOUDER.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
You speak English.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Need words when trade with whites.
|
|
63.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Well I'm grateful for you bringing
|
|
me here... havin' them care for me.
|
|
(off Spotted Horse's nod)
|
|
Now if you could point me which way
|
|
it is you do your tradin'... with
|
|
the whites.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
(POINTS)
|
|
Whites. Bra-zo.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Fort Brazeau? That's where I'm
|
|
tryin' to get. Is it far from here?
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse doesn't understand. Glass motions into the
|
|
distance.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Far? Long way?
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse points to a horse, then holds up three fingers.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Three days on horse?
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse nods... looks Glass over, and shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Not walk. Hides soon.
|
|
|
|
Glass doesn't understand... until Spotted Horse points to a
|
|
ROW OF BUFFALO HIDES hanging from a line.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse (cont'd)
|
|
We trade Bra-zo.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares at the tanning hides, then down at his leg.
|
|
Finally, he nods. Spotted Horse starts walking... waves for
|
|
Glass to follow.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse (cont'd)
|
|
Come. Eat.
|
|
|
|
Glass follows after him. The children sneak in behind,
|
|
giggling as they tail Glass across camp.
|
|
|
|
Glass glances back... New Moon and Little One duck behind a
|
|
tee-pee... wait for him to continue before they scoot back
|
|
out after him.
|
|
64.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. CHIEF'S LODGE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass, Spotted Horse, Three Feathers, Running Fox and OTHER
|
|
WARRIORS sit around a fire, eating with CHIEF RED HAWK, the
|
|
Medicine Man, and several other TRIBAL ELDERS.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
The men stole my rifle.
|
|
|
|
The Sioux don't understand. Glass reaches over, taking
|
|
Spotted Horse's plate.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
They took. They took...
|
|
|
|
Glass aims an imaginary rifle.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
...my rifle. My gear.
|
|
|
|
Now Spotted Horse understands... translates for the others.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
They left me to die. So I mean to
|
|
find `em both. Get my rifle back.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse translates again. Red Hawk nods, studying
|
|
Glass.
|
|
|
|
Red Hawk SAYS SOMETHING to Glass... motions to the BEAR CLAW
|
|
NECKLACE. Glass looks to Spotted Horse.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Red Hawk ask who kill griz-lee.
|
|
|
|
Glass touches his chest. Red Hawk nods, impressed. Glass
|
|
points to the JAGGED SCARS running up Red Hawk's neck to a
|
|
MISSING RIGHT EAR.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Grizzly?
|
|
|
|
Red Hawk smiles... shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
RED HAWK
|
|
Arikara.
|
|
|
|
That word, Glass understands. Red Hawk rambles a long
|
|
sentence in Sioux. The other members LAUGH.
|
|
65.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
He say Arikara take right ear of
|
|
Sioux. Left ear of whites. Not
|
|
know what they take from you.
|
|
|
|
Glass smiles along with the others. They continue their meal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Snow falls over Glass, as he stands outside the tee-pee,
|
|
flexing his injured leg... putting more weight on it...
|
|
testing its recovered strength.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, a SPEAR PLANTS INTO THE GROUND BETWEEN HIS FEET.
|
|
Glass turns, startled... sees Spotted Horse, Three Feathers,
|
|
Running Fox, and several OTHER WARRIORS staring at him.
|
|
|
|
Glass' eyes jump from the spear to the warriors, unsure.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse strides to Glass... grabs the spear, then spins
|
|
it sideways... stares at Glass, until a smile spreads across
|
|
Spotted Horse's face... he holds the spear out to Glass.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Buff-A-lo Man hunt with Sioux?
|
|
|
|
Glass relaxes... nods... takes the spear from Spotted Horse.
|
|
Three Feathers hands a BUFFALO HIDE to Glass... motions for
|
|
Glass to put it on.
|
|
|
|
THREE FEATHERS
|
|
Tatanka Wicasa.
|
|
|
|
Glass wraps the hide around him. The Warriors smile and nod.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - DAY
|
|
|
|
A world of silent white... like we're inside a giant snow-
|
|
globe. The sky is emptying all the snow it has over us...
|
|
pouring down... the only sound comes from the flakes hitting
|
|
the already fallen snow. The pale trunks of Cottonwoods rise
|
|
up from the white ground.
|
|
|
|
Then out of the white... a SHAPE APPEARS... a GIANT WOLF
|
|
WALKING ON ITS HIND LEGS. But as the wolf comes closer, we
|
|
see it's not a wolf at all... it's THREE FEATHERS, wearing
|
|
his WOLF SKIN. He CRIES OUT... HOWLING WILDLY.
|
|
|
|
A few yards beside him, another WARRIOR is doing the same...
|
|
CHANTING... beating his spear against the Cottonwoods as he
|
|
walks.
|
|
66.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS - WEARING THE BUFFALO HIDE...
|
|
|
|
...walking slowly through the trees, carrying the spear.
|
|
Yellow Bear is beside him... motions for Glass to spread out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
FROM ABOVE THE TREES...
|
|
|
|
...we see the fur-covered warriors are formed into a wide
|
|
circle... and slowly converging... YELLING... pounding their
|
|
spears... making as much noise as possible, as they tighten
|
|
their ring.
|
|
|
|
|
|
POV FROM THE BRUSH...
|
|
|
|
...watching DISTANT CHANTING WARRIORS pushing through the
|
|
trees. V.O. SNORTING... our POV darts sideways... charges
|
|
through the brush... slides to a stop when we see Running Fox
|
|
moving toward us... spins back another direction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS - MOVING THROUGH THE FOREST...
|
|
|
|
...the falling snow clinging to his face... covering the
|
|
buffalo hide.
|
|
|
|
And then a MASSIVE SHAPE BLASTS through the trees ahead of
|
|
him. Glass freezes, his grip tightening on the spear. He
|
|
looks to Spotted Horse, who nods... YELLS OUT, beating his
|
|
spear against the trees, and motioning for Glass to do the
|
|
same.
|
|
|
|
Glass is apprehensive at first... just lightly tapping his
|
|
spear. But as the other warriors' chants grow, Glass gets
|
|
caught up in the hunt... begins beating the trees... YELLING
|
|
as loud as his throat will allow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE WARRIORS - EYES PIERCING THROUGH THE SNOW... CHANTING...
|
|
BEATING THE BUSHES.
|
|
|
|
|
|
OUR LOW POV AGAIN - RACING CHAOTICALLY THROUGH THE BRUSH...
|
|
|
|
...to Spotted Horse waving his spear... back over the snow...
|
|
to Three Feathers SCREAMING... we spin again... crash through
|
|
bushes, then suddenly TUMBLE... DROP THROUGH THE SNOW.
|
|
67.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS - HEARING THE ANIMAL'S WAIL...
|
|
|
|
...seeing Spotted Horse pick up his pace... start trotting
|
|
forward. Glass does the same... all the hunters converging
|
|
around a LARGE BLACK HOLE IN THE SNOW...
|
|
|
|
...and the ELK trapped at the bottom.
|
|
|
|
The warriors cry out victoriously... begin DRIVING THEIR
|
|
SPEARS INTO THE TRAP, killing the animal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
The elk roasts over a fire at the center of the village.
|
|
Glass sits alone outside the tee-pee, using the sharp tip of
|
|
the spear to carve into a small chunk of wood.
|
|
|
|
As he carves, New Moon and Little One sneak around the tee-
|
|
pee behind him... watch Glass work. Glass hears them
|
|
GIGGLING... doesn't react... just keeps carving... tilts the
|
|
long handle of the spear as he works, tapping the side of the
|
|
tee-pee, and SHAKING LOOSE A CLUMP OF SNOW DOWN ONTO THE
|
|
BOYS.
|
|
|
|
The shocked boys freeze in the cold... wipe the snow from
|
|
their faces to see Glass grinning at them. The little boys
|
|
charge Glass, leaping onto him... wrestling him to the
|
|
ground, as they squeeze his hair.
|
|
|
|
BOYS
|
|
Tatanka Wicasa! Tatanka Wicasa!
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse stands across the village, watching Glass and
|
|
the boys play in the snow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass stands at the edge of the village, carving at the wood
|
|
with the spear tip, and watching the Sioux from a distance.
|
|
Yellow Bear sees him... approaches, carrying his SON on his
|
|
shoulders. The little boy gnaws on a strip of meat.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse holds out a bowl of food to Glass.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Thank you.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Good hunt.
|
|
68.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Yes.
|
|
|
|
Glass smiles up at Spotted Horse's son.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
You. Fam-i-lee?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(shakes his head)
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
No wom-an?
|
|
(pointing to son)
|
|
Wakayaja?
|
|
|
|
A long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
No. Not for a long time.
|
|
|
|
Glass continues eating... watches Spotted Horse bounce the
|
|
giggling little boy on his shoulders.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass steps out of his tee-pee, whittling with the spear tip.
|
|
He glances up... freezes because he sees several Sioux
|
|
pulling the hides from the line... rolling them up to carry.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse (O.S.)
|
|
Bra-zo.
|
|
|
|
Glass turns to Spotted Horse, pointing to the hides. Glass
|
|
nods... looks back to the last of the hides being pulled
|
|
down... doesn't seem as excited as he once might have been.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - LATER
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit atop their horses.
|
|
Three Feathers holds the reins to another horse packed with
|
|
hides. An empty horse stands beside them... waiting for
|
|
Glass.
|
|
|
|
Glass is leaning over to New Moon and Little One... handing
|
|
them the CRUDE BUFFALO CARVING he made from the wood.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(taps his chest)
|
|
Tatanka Wicasa.
|
|
69.
|
|
|
|
The little boys smile. Glass nods to Waki, then waves to Red
|
|
Hawk and the Medicine Man. They return it... watch Glass
|
|
climb onto his horse.
|
|
|
|
Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride out of the
|
|
village.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride along a high
|
|
ridge, surrounded by empty snow-covered wilderness. They
|
|
have the world to themselves.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass crouches over a shallow, five-foot long hole surrounded
|
|
by deep snow. The hole is filled with small fires and rocks.
|
|
And he's watching Spotted Horse and Three Feathers tossing
|
|
rocks into their own matching holes, then dragging the dirt
|
|
back into them. Spotted Horse throws a glance back to Glass,
|
|
making sure he understands.
|
|
|
|
Glass nods... pulls the dirt back in, covering the flames.
|
|
He watches Spotted Horse spread a blanket over the warm
|
|
ground, then does the same. He sits on the mound of dirt...
|
|
leans back against a tree... feels the warmth rise up from
|
|
beneath him.
|
|
|
|
He nods to Spotted Horse, who is already resting under his
|
|
blanket.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Nice.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
(NODS)
|
|
Nice.
|
|
|
|
Glass pulls the buffalo hide around himself... keeping watch.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd)
|
|
Sleep. No Arikara.
|
|
|
|
Glass nods... but still doesn't close his eyes. Spotted
|
|
Horse tosses his knife over beside Glass. Glass takes it...
|
|
nods to Spotted Horse.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd)
|
|
Me sleep.
|
|
70.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse rolls over, turning his back on Glass...
|
|
trusting him with the knife. Three Feathers does the same.
|
|
|
|
Glass just stares out into the night.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. FORT UNION/BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dark and quiet... except for the SNORING of a few men.
|
|
Fitzgerald sleeps on his cot. A shadow glides across him...
|
|
hovers over his face.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald's eyes blink open.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD'S POV...
|
|
|
|
...on GLASS STANDING OVER HIM... his scarred face calm and
|
|
deadly... raising a knife to drive down into Fitzgerald's
|
|
chest.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
No... please.
|
|
|
|
But Glass swings the blade.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
|
|
|
|
And Spotted Horse shaking Glass awake from his dream. Glass'
|
|
hand flies up, the knife gripped. But Spotted Horse grabs
|
|
his arm... stops it in mid-swing... holds it until Glass
|
|
realizes it was a dream... relaxes.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
We go.
|
|
|
|
Glass calms... nods.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - DAY
|
|
|
|
Just a small cluster of log buildings sitting along the banks
|
|
of the Missouri. Dozens of tee-pees and tents are set up
|
|
outside the complex.
|
|
|
|
Glass follows Spotted Horse and Three Feathers into the camp.
|
|
BEGGING INDIANS and DRUNK TRAPPERS paw at the men as they
|
|
ride past, pleading for handouts.
|
|
71.
|
|
|
|
One of the Indians grabs for the hides. Three Feathers
|
|
plants his foot in the Indian's chest... shoves him back into
|
|
the snow.
|
|
|
|
They continue on... climb off their horses outside the
|
|
TRADING POST. Three Feathers stays to guard the hides, as
|
|
Spotted Horse and Glass enter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. TRADING POST - DAY
|
|
|
|
A small, dingy room lined with shelves, all stacked high with
|
|
pots, pans, dry goods, whiskey, blankets, weapons... anything
|
|
that can be traded. KIOWA BRAZEAU, (60's), French-Canadian,
|
|
stands behind the counter... looks up when the BELL over the
|
|
door RINGS... sees Spotted Horse with Glass behind.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
(thick French accent)
|
|
Bon jour, Spotted Horse. You come
|
|
with many hides I hope.
|
|
(off Spotted Horse's nod)
|
|
We make good trades then.
|
|
|
|
Brazeau's eyes lock on Glass... stares at him, unsure.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
|
|
Monsieur Glass?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Good to see you again, Mr. Brazeau.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
Jesus Christ, what happened to your
|
|
goddamned face?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Had a tussle with a grizzly.
|
|
|
|
Glass shakes Brazeau's hand. Brazeau studies his face...
|
|
notices the Bear Claw Necklace... smiles.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
And now the grizzly, he don't look
|
|
so good either, eh?
|
|
|
|
Glass shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
|
|
(off Spotted Horse)
|
|
You run with the Sioux these days?
|
|
72.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
They looked after me for a spell.
|
|
I'm on my way to catch back up with
|
|
Captain Henry... at Fort Union.
|
|
Needed to trade for some supplies
|
|
on the Company's credit if I could.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
Oui, of course. Anything you like.
|
|
|
|
Glass pulls down a KENTUCKY LONG RIFLE.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
We can start with this.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. TRADING POST - LATER
|
|
|
|
Glass is loaded with gear. He signs a ticket for Brazeau.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
You can pick up the horse at the
|
|
livery in the morning.
|
|
(off Glass' nod)
|
|
I wish I could give you a room for
|
|
the night, but...
|
|
|
|
Brazeau looks to SEVERAL TRAPPERS standing across the room,
|
|
glaring at Glass.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
|
|
I cannot risk the trouble of
|
|
letting a colored stay inside.
|
|
|
|
Glass glances to the trappers... one of them spits in Glass'
|
|
direction... makes some MONKEY SOUNDS... daring Glass to
|
|
respond. Glass just turns away.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Won't be the last night I sleep on
|
|
the ground.
|
|
|
|
Glass nods to Brazeau, then walks out.
|
|
|
|
BRAZEAU
|
|
Take care of that face, Glass.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. TRADING POST - DAY
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit on their horses. The
|
|
other horses are now packed with new goods. Glass
|
|
approaches.
|
|
73.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(points to the tents)
|
|
You stay here tonight?
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse shakes his head... motions back toward the
|
|
wilderness. Then he points to the trading post... the
|
|
TRAPPERS.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
Your people?
|
|
|
|
Glass looks back to all the white faces... trappers, drunks,
|
|
prostitutes. He shakes his head.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
You come then.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse taps his own chest... points back the way they
|
|
came. Glass hesitates, almost like he's considering it...
|
|
then he shakes his head again... points the opposite way.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Fort Union.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse stares at Glass a long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
SPOTTED HORSE
|
|
You spend your life hunting enemy.
|
|
Enemy wins.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
It will be over soon.
|
|
|
|
Then Glass pulls the Bear Claw Necklace off... hands it to
|
|
Spotted Horse. Spotted Horse holds it... then proudly slides
|
|
it over his head.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
(IN SIOUX)
|
|
Thank you.
|
|
|
|
Spotted Horse raises his hand in goodbye, then spins his
|
|
horse and starts away. Three Feathers does the same. Glass
|
|
returns it... watches them ride off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass is in the trees beyond the tents and tee-pees...
|
|
crouched on the ground...
|
|
74.
|
|
dragging the dirt back over the fire and rocks. He slides up
|
|
onto the mound... feels the warmth, and smiles... just a
|
|
little.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - MORNING
|
|
|
|
Glass rides a PAINT MARE along a ridge overlooking the river.
|
|
Fort Brazeau stands in the distance behind him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
|
|
|
|
Snowy and cold. Glass leads the line of riders through the
|
|
snow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION - EVENING
|
|
|
|
But you can't tell if it's day or night through the blizzard.
|
|
Fitzgerald, Pig, Anderson, Bridger, Murphy and Stubby Joe
|
|
trudge through the snow in their snowshoes... finally reach
|
|
the bunkhouse.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. BUNKHOUSE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Anderson shoves the door closed against the wind... latches
|
|
it. The men look worn and battered... wind-burnt faces,
|
|
icicles in their beards.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I had enough of this cold as hell
|
|
shit.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
What'd you figure when ya signed on
|
|
outta that St. Louis whorehouse you
|
|
was workin'? That you was headin'
|
|
off to paradise?
|
|
|
|
Pig snorts a laugh at Fitzgerald's expense.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I tell ya what I figured, I figured
|
|
I'd be somewhere the piss wouldn't
|
|
freeze before I got it outta my
|
|
pecker.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Figured wrong.
|
|
75.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald throws Bridger a glare... wants to throw more, but
|
|
Bridger's returning the stare... hard... so Fitzgerald
|
|
decides he'd better not push it.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Waste a time to check traps in this
|
|
weather... while Henry sits warmin'
|
|
his ass on the stove in his office.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
Why don't you go tell him that,
|
|
Fitz? Then start your hike back to
|
|
St. Louie.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Shit, I walked up here, I got no
|
|
problem walkin' back.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
Contracted for twelve months. We
|
|
all did.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Henry can shove that contract up
|
|
his toasty warm ass, or I'll do it
|
|
for him.
|
|
|
|
The others laugh at Fitzgerald's rambling.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
You don't think I will?
|
|
|
|
The men shake their heads. Fitzgerald grabs his gloves...
|
|
starts strapping his snowshoes back on.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
Just give that fat little whore
|
|
you're so sweet on a couple extra
|
|
bits... she'll have you thinkin'
|
|
it's Spring already.
|
|
|
|
The men laugh as Fitzgerald walks out... leaves the door wide
|
|
open for the cold wind to pour over the others. Pig scurries
|
|
over, shoving it closed.
|
|
|
|
As the other men gather around a table to play cards, Bridger
|
|
pulls a JOURNAL from under his cot... falls onto the cot, and
|
|
starts writing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald enters... looks around the empty office.
|
|
76.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Hello? Captain?
|
|
|
|
The place is empty. Fitzgerald eyes Henry's desk... then
|
|
past his desk... to the SAFE... its door CRACKED OPEN...
|
|
STACKS OF MONEY visible inside.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald glances around... looks back to that safe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dark and quiet. The snow has stopped.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald eases up from his cot... looks around at the
|
|
sleeping men.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald slips out of the bunkhouse door... across the
|
|
compound... toward the front gate.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY (O.S.)
|
|
Where're you headed?
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald looks up... sees Murphy in the Blockhouse on
|
|
sentry duty.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
To the river, Murphy.
|
|
|
|
Murphy squints down into the shadows.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
That you, Fitzgerald?
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Left my rifle down there... don't
|
|
want it out all night.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
That weren't too smart.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Just don't take a shot at me when I
|
|
come back in.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
We'll see.
|
|
77.
|
|
|
|
Murphy waves Fitzgerald out.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Not that you'd hit me if you tried.
|
|
|
|
Murphy fakes a laugh... raises his rifle down at Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
POV DOWN MURPHY'S RIFLE...
|
|
|
|
...on Fitzgerald moving toward the river... disappearing into
|
|
the darkness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Out of sight from the fort. Fitzgerald slides the ANSTADT
|
|
FROM UNDER HIS COAT... hurries down the bank... searches
|
|
under the brush and snow... pulls out an OVERTURNED CANOE.
|
|
|
|
He drags it to the icy edge... slides it across the ice
|
|
toward the middle of the river, where the water still hasn't
|
|
frozen over. The ice CRACKS UNDER HIS FEET. Fitzgerald
|
|
climbs in the canoe... pounds the ice with the oar, breaking
|
|
it loose.
|
|
|
|
The current seeps through the cracks... catches the canoe,
|
|
pulling it to the center of the wide river... sends
|
|
Fitzgerald shooting south. He throws a glance back at the
|
|
shadow of Fort Union in the distance... growing smaller.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
|
|
|
|
Clear blue sky. The sun glistening off the snow-covered
|
|
ground. Glass is bundled under furs, as he rides through the
|
|
snowy trees.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Tucked under the rooftop of trees. A small fire burns.
|
|
Glass sits on his fire-bed, looking over a map.
|
|
|
|
An O.S. SNORT from the Paint Mare, tied to a tree. Glass
|
|
looks over in time to see the horse's ears perk up.
|
|
|
|
With his eyes searching the darkness, Glass slowly reaches
|
|
over... grabs his rifle. Then he drops to his stomach...
|
|
slides backward into the brush.
|
|
78.
|
|
|
|
Glass peers through the brush... the woods seem empty...
|
|
until SEVERAL DARK SHAPES APPEAR... moving through the
|
|
distant trees... coming straight toward Glass' camp.
|
|
|
|
Then an O.S. SNAP BEHIND GLASS... he glances back in time to
|
|
see an ARIKARA WARRIOR SWINGING A HATCHET.
|
|
|
|
Glass spins his rifle... shoves it into the stomach of the
|
|
Warrior as he swings... BOOM... the Warrior flies back.
|
|
|
|
The dark woods suddenly ERUPT IN WAR CRIES... Arikara appear
|
|
from all sides... charge toward the camp.
|
|
|
|
Glass scrambles up... races toward the Paint Mare as ARROWS
|
|
AND GUNSHOTS FLASH THROUGH THE AIR ALL AROUND HIM.
|
|
|
|
Glass swings up onto the Paint Mare... spots ELK'S TONGUE
|
|
leading the charge... the necklace of ears hanging around his
|
|
neck. And Elk's Tongue's eyes are locked on Glass... almost
|
|
like he remembers him.
|
|
|
|
Glass takes off through the forest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass hanging onto the paint mare, as she gallops through the
|
|
trees... the animal's nostrils spread wide, pulling in all
|
|
the oxygen it can.
|
|
|
|
Glass glances back... sees SHAPES BEHIND HIM... HORSES...
|
|
ridden by Elk's Tongue and eight other warriors.
|
|
|
|
Glass digs his heels into the horse, squeezing every ounce of
|
|
speed from her legs... pushing her toward the clearing up
|
|
ahead... throwing another glance back... then looking in
|
|
front of him, and realizing it isn't a clearing at all...
|
|
|
|
...it's the edge of the world.
|
|
|
|
The paint mare explodes from the trees, then runs out of
|
|
ground... because she's just galloped off the side of a
|
|
cliff.
|
|
|
|
The horse sails downward toward a thick forest of trees, its
|
|
legs flailing for something to stand on.
|
|
|
|
Glass drops the rifle to grip the horse's mane, hanging on
|
|
for what seems an endless fall.
|
|
79.
|
|
|
|
The mare SLAMS LEG-FIRST INTO THE TREE-TOPS with Glass still
|
|
on her back. The Paint Mare SQUEALS as she drops into the
|
|
snow-covered trees, carrying Glass with her.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - CONTINUOUS
|
|
|
|
And the horse comes crashing through the branches... the
|
|
massive limbs slowing her fall... snapping off as her body
|
|
hits and twists... tosses Glass away.
|
|
|
|
The Paint Mare continues her deadly descent, the trees
|
|
tearing at her body... catching her head... SNAPPING her
|
|
neck.
|
|
|
|
Glass slams off a branch... tumbles to the ground with a
|
|
thud. The Paint Mare hits the snow beside him... very dead.
|
|
|
|
Glass struggles to breath... finally GASPS... sucks in the
|
|
oxygen. He lays there a moment... stares up through the
|
|
trees...
|
|
|
|
...to Elk's Tongue and the others staring down from the top
|
|
of the cliff... with no way to get to Glass.
|
|
|
|
Glass rises to his knees... glances around for his rifle...
|
|
lost. He flinches with what must be broken ribs... drags
|
|
himself up, and staggers to the horse... pulls his knife and
|
|
cuts the snowshoes from the back of the saddle.
|
|
|
|
He throws the snowshoes over his shoulder... continues on,
|
|
through the woods... alone... in the middle of nowhere...
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
|
|
|
|
From high above... the small shape of Glass making his way
|
|
over the snowy ground... heading toward TWO DISTANT SHACKS.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
|
|
|
|
A makeshift town on the banks of the Missouri. Two
|
|
ramshackle structures... the General Store and a tattered
|
|
livery stable filled with horses.
|
|
80.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY
|
|
|
|
More like a saloon that sells a few supplies. A gang of
|
|
TRAPPERS drink and play cards. A RUNTY MAN stands behind the
|
|
counter, watching them...
|
|
|
|
...until the door blows open, and in steps Glass. He pulls
|
|
the fur hat away from his face, and what a sight he is...
|
|
scarred face stiff from the cold... ice frozen in his beard.
|
|
|
|
The room falls silent... everyone staring at Glass. Until
|
|
TRAPPER #1 snorts a laugh. Glass limps to the counter. All
|
|
eyes follow him.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(struggling to make his
|
|
frozen lips move)
|
|
I'm Hugh Glass of...
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
We don't serve niggers.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares at the Runty Man a beat, then...
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company
|
|
on my way to Fort Union.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
I don't care if you was with Lewis
|
|
and Clark headed for the new world.
|
|
We don't serve niggers.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
All I need is a horse and enough
|
|
supplies to...
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER
|
|
Ice musta froze up his ears, `cause
|
|
he ain't listenin' to you, Cees.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
...to get me to Fort Union. I can
|
|
sign a draft made good by Captain
|
|
Henry.
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man just stares at Glass... grins a TOOTHLESS GRIN.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
What the fuck happened to your
|
|
face, boy? You try to slice all
|
|
the black off?
|
|
81.
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER #2
|
|
Maybe we oughta help him do it
|
|
right.
|
|
|
|
FAT TRAPPER
|
|
Best get on your way, boy.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares back at the men for a long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I'm Hugh Glass of the Rocky
|
|
Mountain Fur Company, and all I
|
|
need is...
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
(to the trappers)
|
|
Do you believe this shit?
|
|
|
|
Trapper #1 and Trapper #2 pull the SKINNING KNIVES from their
|
|
belts... start toward Glass.
|
|
|
|
FAT TRAPPER
|
|
Hell, I warned ya.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
All I need...
|
|
|
|
And that's when Trapper #1 grabs for Glass, but in a flash of
|
|
movement that catches them all off-guard, Glass has is own
|
|
knife pulled and JAMMED UNDER TRAPPER #1's CHIN.
|
|
|
|
Everyone freezes.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
...is a horse and enough supplies
|
|
to get me to Fort Union.
|
|
|
|
Then Glass slides Trapper #1's PISTOL from his belt... aims
|
|
it at the other men.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
And this shooter here. All made
|
|
good by Captain Henry and The Rocky
|
|
Mountain Fur Company.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
|
|
|
|
The snow pours down on the Runty Man and the trappers, as
|
|
they stand outside, rifles aimed into the distance.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Shoot him, goddammit!
|
|
82.
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER #2
|
|
I can't get a clear look.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Shoot `em both!
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man snatches one of the rifles... BOOM... fires a
|
|
wild shot past the riders.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
GLASS - GALLOPING AWAY ON HORSEBACK...
|
|
|
|
...with Trapper #1 sitting backward on the horse behind him.
|
|
Glass has the pistol jammed into his ribs, and keeps glancing
|
|
back to the men growing smaller behind him.
|
|
|
|
Finally, Glass shoves the man off the back of the horse.
|
|
Trapper #1 tumbles into the snow.
|
|
|
|
The RUMBLE OF DISTANT GUNSHOTS... too far away to reach
|
|
Glass, who just keeps racing north.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE RUNTY MAN - WATCHING GLASS ESCAPE.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Get after the son of a bitch!
|
|
|
|
The trappers exchange glances... don't move.
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER #2
|
|
It's cold as hell, Cees.
|
|
|
|
FAT TRAPPER
|
|
And he did say to put it all on the
|
|
Rocky Mountain tab.
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man glares at the trappers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - EVENING
|
|
|
|
Glass riding the horse at a trot through the snow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Thick with fog, and silent as death. The moon fights its way
|
|
through the mist, sending an eerie glow over the fort.
|
|
83.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION/BLOCKHOUSE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Stubby Bill sits dozing in a chair, his rifle across his lap.
|
|
O.S. CRUNCHING... getting louder... loud enough to nudge
|
|
Stubby Bill awake. He sits up... peers over the wall, but
|
|
can't see anything in the fog... just hears the CRUNCHING
|
|
MOVING CLOSER... FOOTSTEPS IN THE CRISP SNOW.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL'S POV...
|
|
|
|
...on the blanket of fog hanging in the air... that same
|
|
CRUNCHING, as a SHADOW APPEARS... growing clearer... a FIGURE
|
|
walking... leading a horse behind him... appearing out of the
|
|
mist like a ghost... GLASS.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL - STARES DOWN IN SHOCK...
|
|
|
|
...sure his eyes are betraying him. But then Glass looks
|
|
straight up at Stubby Bill, and there's no doubt.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
Jesus Christ.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Dark and quiet... just Pig's snoring rattling the silence.
|
|
Suddenly the door kicks open... SLAMS into the wall... and
|
|
there's GLASS' SILHOUETTE FILLING THE DOORWAY.
|
|
|
|
GROANS from the awakened men... hands moving through the dark
|
|
for oil lamps... turning them bright... until the room's
|
|
fully lit... and they all see Glass standing there... eyes
|
|
floating across the room, searching for a target.
|
|
|
|
The men just stare back at him, like they're all part of the
|
|
same dream.
|
|
|
|
Except for Bridger, who's propped up in his cot like he's
|
|
been waiting all night... waiting every night... for Glass to
|
|
appear in that doorway.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I'm sorry.
|
|
|
|
Glass raises the stolen pistol... aims it at Bridger. And
|
|
the young man doesn't flinch... almost as if he wants to make
|
|
sure Glass doesn't miss.
|
|
84.
|
|
|
|
The other men just watch in silence, not sure what the hell's
|
|
going on.
|
|
|
|
Glass holds his aim on Bridger's face... a face that's
|
|
haunted him... kept him alive.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
You took everything I had... left
|
|
me to die.
|
|
|
|
Glass walks toward Bridger, the gun still raised... each step
|
|
of his feet on the wood floor is like the thud of an
|
|
executioner's drum.
|
|
|
|
MUMBLING from the other men, as they watch this ghost reach
|
|
Bridger... stand over him, the pistol aimed down.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Why?
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
I was scared of dyin'.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
But every day since, I've wished I
|
|
had.
|
|
|
|
Glass' finger tightens on the trigger, ready to make
|
|
Bridger's wish come true.
|
|
|
|
The rest of the bunkhouse watches this execution in wide-
|
|
eyed, stone silence, afraid to move.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
There wasn't no `Ree that night,
|
|
was there?
|
|
|
|
A long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
Glass PISTOL WHIPS BRIDGER, knocking him to the floor. And
|
|
before Bridger can crawl away, Glass in over him... those
|
|
aching, frozen fists beating mercilessly down on Bridger.
|
|
|
|
And Bridger doesn't fight back... just does his best to cover
|
|
up, but the blows keep coming, and Bridger's face is covered
|
|
in blood...
|
|
|
|
...just as Henry runs inside, half-dressed from where Stubby
|
|
Bill awoke him. Henry grabs Glass... pulls him off.
|
|
|
|
Glass spins... jams his pistol right in Henry's face.
|
|
85.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Hugh. Wait.
|
|
|
|
Glass is crazy with rage... barely stops himself from pulling
|
|
that trigger. But finally, he calms... his arm sinks,
|
|
lowering his aim. He glances around the bunkhouse.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Where's Fitzgerald and my rifle?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Deserted two days ago. Along with
|
|
about five hundred dollars of
|
|
company money.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
Let's get some coffee to warm you
|
|
up.
|
|
(to Glass, but looking at
|
|
BRIDGER)
|
|
I wanna hear what happened.
|
|
|
|
Glass looks back to Bridger... they hold a long stare, until
|
|
Glass walks out.
|
|
|
|
BRIDGER
|
|
Wait. Please!
|
|
|
|
But Glass and Henry disappear, leaving Bridger alone with all
|
|
those eyes burning into him. Bridger looks to Pig, but Pig
|
|
just lowers his eyes... can't even look at the boy.
|
|
|
|
The men step into their boots and furs... file out after
|
|
Glass and Henry... leaving Bridger alone in the bunkhouse.
|
|
|
|
|
|
INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass sits by the warmth of the stove, sipping coffee.
|
|
Henry's behind he desk, with the other men scattered around.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I cut the shoes loose of her, and
|
|
hiked over to Fort Talbot.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
Christ almighty.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
And you may hear from the fella
|
|
there about a stoled horse and
|
|
supplies charged to you.
|
|
86.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
We'll take care of it. You should
|
|
go settle in.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
There's a couple fair whores next
|
|
door that'll ease the miles on ya,
|
|
scars or not.
|
|
|
|
Stubby Bill gives Murphy an elbow.
|
|
|
|
ANDERSON
|
|
Jesus, Murph.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
I just meant I'd go roust one of
|
|
`em for ya if you wanted.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
She can take the night off, but I
|
|
wouldn't mind the use of her bed.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(TO MURPHY)
|
|
Go clear out a room. The rest head
|
|
on back to bunk.
|
|
|
|
Murphy hustles out. The others move toward the door, each
|
|
stopping to shake Glass' hand, or give him a pat on the back.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
I told ya I'd see ya up here. You
|
|
remember that, Hugh?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I do, Pig. You must have a little
|
|
gypsy in ya.
|
|
|
|
Pig grins and nods.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
I'll see ya in the mornin'.
|
|
|
|
Pig exits, leaving just Glass and Henry, sitting in a beat of
|
|
silence, until...
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Can I talk you outta what you're
|
|
planning?
|
|
|
|
Glass doesn't answer... just stands, placing the coffee cup
|
|
on the table.
|
|
87.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Thank you for what you done for
|
|
me... stitchin' me back together...
|
|
givin' me a chance.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
I'm offerin' you another right
|
|
now... to stay here... let this
|
|
thing go.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
He thinks he let me die. But he
|
|
don't know that he's the one that's
|
|
kept me alive... for the chance of
|
|
findin' him... makin' him pay for
|
|
what he done.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
The law will make Fitzgerald pay.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares out the window... his SCARRED REFLECTION stares
|
|
back at him.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
You told me once that other men
|
|
didn't think like him.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
But the truth is, most do. I seen
|
|
it my whole life... the looks folks
|
|
give... the whisperin'. I watched
|
|
my wife and son die from the fever
|
|
on accounta no white doctor would
|
|
care for `em. Wasn't no different
|
|
to them than if their neighbor's
|
|
dog was sick.
|
|
(BEAT)
|
|
So I don't figure nobody's gonna
|
|
care much that Fitzgerald took some
|
|
dyin' nigger's rifle, and left him
|
|
in the middle of nowhere.
|
|
(turns to Henry)
|
|
Do you, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Henry doesn't answer... because he knows Glass is right.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
I thank you for the coffee.
|
|
|
|
Glass walks out. Henry just sits there.
|
|
88.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT UNION - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass, Pig and Murphy stand by Glass' horse, as he ties off
|
|
his supplies.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY
|
|
He said he was goin' to get his
|
|
rifle...
|
|
|
|
And then Murphy catches himself... shrugs.
|
|
|
|
MURPHY (CONT'D)
|
|
Your rifle. But he never showed
|
|
back up. The next day I figured
|
|
him mighta fell in, but then Pig
|
|
seen the canoe was missin'.
|
|
|
|
PIG
|
|
And the Captain found the money
|
|
gone.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I'll make my way down river. See
|
|
what turns up.
|
|
|
|
Glass pulls the cinch tight around the horse. Stubby Bill
|
|
comes waddling toward them.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL
|
|
The kid's gone... gear and all.
|
|
Musta slipped out before light.
|
|
|
|
Stubby Bill waves Bridger's journal at them.
|
|
|
|
STUBBY BILL (cont'd)
|
|
Just left this on his bunk.
|
|
|
|
Henry takes the journal... flips it open.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(READING)
|
|
"Every day I think about what I
|
|
done. I want to tell Pig and the
|
|
others the truth but am afraid what
|
|
they'll think of me. I look at
|
|
Fitzgerald and want to kill him but
|
|
am afraid to try. I am a coward
|
|
and wish he hadn't been lyin about
|
|
the Ree that night. I wish they
|
|
had come and kilt us both."
|
|
|
|
Glass considers the words a beat, then swings onto his horse.
|
|
89.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
If I run across the boy, I'll send
|
|
him back your way.
|
|
|
|
Glass sees Henry on horseback, trotting toward them.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Where're you headed?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Fitzgerald stole five hundred
|
|
dollars. Rocky Mountain Fur
|
|
Company wants him too.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I can do this on my own.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
I know you can. But maybe you
|
|
won't have to.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares at Henry a beat, then finally just pulls his
|
|
horse around... heads for the river. Henry nods to Pig and
|
|
Murphy as he follows after Glass.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. ROCK LEDGE - DAY
|
|
|
|
From above Fort Union. Our POV on Glass and Henry riding
|
|
south along the icy river.
|
|
|
|
And then we see our POV is Bridger's... standing along the
|
|
ledge, loaded with all his gear. He watches the riders
|
|
another moment, then turns... hikes the opposite direction...
|
|
leaving Fort Union behind forever.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man behind the counter. A few of the same Trappers
|
|
drinking... playing cards. Just another day at Fort Talbot.
|
|
|
|
The door swings open, and a FUR-COVERED FIGURE enters.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
We ain't got no food to spare,
|
|
friend, if that's what you're
|
|
lookin' for.
|
|
|
|
The figure pulls back his furs, and we see it's Fitzgerald...
|
|
cold and miserable.
|
|
90.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Then what the hell have ya got?
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Whiskey and blankets mostly.
|
|
Weather's held back deliveries.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald throws a glance to the Trappers.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Gimme a couple bottles then.
|
|
Goddamn ice shredded my boat. Been
|
|
walkin' for two days.
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man hands Fitzgerald the bottles. Fitzgerald pops
|
|
one... gulps some down.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
|
|
How much for one of them horses out
|
|
there?
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Horses ain't cheap this time a
|
|
year.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Whatever the price, Rocky Mountain
|
|
Fur Company's good for it.
|
|
|
|
And those words stop everything. The Trappers all turn from
|
|
their game. The Runty Man glares at Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
You're the second son of a bitch
|
|
come in here makin' that claim.
|
|
And the first one left a bad taste.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
That right? Well I don't know
|
|
nothin' about that. Just that I
|
|
need a horse.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
So did this other fella. So he
|
|
stole one... along with Lange's
|
|
pistola.
|
|
|
|
Trapper #1 nods to Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Fine then, I'll pay cash for the
|
|
horse. How much?
|
|
91.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
How `bout you pay for your friend's
|
|
too.
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER #1
|
|
And my shooter.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Wasn't my friend.
|
|
|
|
Trapper #1 stands up.
|
|
|
|
TRAPPER #1
|
|
Then from where I stand, you don't
|
|
got no friends at all.
|
|
|
|
The other Trappers glare at Fitzgerald. The Runty Man just
|
|
grins that toothless smile of his. Fitzgerald's in a bind,
|
|
and he knows it.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Yeah, okay. I'll collect from him.
|
|
How much?
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
How `bout we say eighty...
|
|
(sees Fitzgerald doesn't
|
|
ARGUE)
|
|
...five.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald starts digging into his pocket.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
You boys are leavin' me with
|
|
nothin'. Better be a helluva
|
|
horse.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
Pick of the litter.
|
|
|
|
The Runty Man snatches the cash.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN (cont'd)
|
|
And when you see that scarred-up
|
|
nigger, you tell him he'd best not
|
|
show up here again.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald freezes... not sure he heard correctly.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
When I see who?
|
|
92.
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
The black son of a bitch that
|
|
robbed me. You tell him that.
|
|
|
|
A long beat, then...
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Scarred up, you say... and headed
|
|
up to Union?
|
|
|
|
RUNTY MAN
|
|
That's what he told us. Seemed
|
|
real anxious to get there too.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(NODS)
|
|
I'll make sure to give him the
|
|
message when I find him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald sits on the horse, staring back over the ground...
|
|
his LINE OF TRACKS LEADING THROUGH THE SNOW. He turns...
|
|
looks south, then back to the tracks.
|
|
|
|
Finally, Fitzgerald digs his heels into the horse. The
|
|
animal takes off, right along Fitzgerald's tracks in the
|
|
snow... right back toward Glass.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - DAY
|
|
|
|
Thick ice along the edges, tapering to a narrow stream of
|
|
flowing water at the very center.
|
|
|
|
Glass and Henry ride along the snow-covered bank.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Hugh.
|
|
|
|
Henry points. Glass follows his finger along the river... to
|
|
a CANOE resting on the bank ahead. They dismount... examine
|
|
the canoe... the letters "RMFC" painted on the side.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
That's it.
|
|
|
|
Glass runs his mittened hand along the gashes in the wood.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Ice tore it up.
|
|
93.
|
|
|
|
Glass looks to the FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW, leading deep into
|
|
the trees. He glances up to the sky... clear and blue.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
If the snow holds off, we'll have a
|
|
good trail to track.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
What's out that direction? Talbot?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
And the Missouri. Doubt he'd risk
|
|
the river with the `Ree. Likely
|
|
grab a horse, and cross over
|
|
high... take his chances goin' east
|
|
against the weather. When'd you
|
|
say he skipped out?
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Three days ago now.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
We best pick up our pace.
|
|
|
|
They climb back onto their horses... trot into the trees.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
|
|
|
|
Glass and Henry gallop across, their path dead on
|
|
Fitzgerald's tracks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - DAY
|
|
|
|
The snow is shallow here, the ground protected by the trees.
|
|
There's a black spot where a fire once burned, and footprints
|
|
all over the place. Glass is off his horse, crouched,
|
|
studying the site... lifting the charred chunks of wood.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
This was Fitzgerald camped here?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Couple nights back. But these
|
|
tracks aren't all his.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
He's travelin' with somebody?
|
|
94.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
(shakes his head)
|
|
Came in after. Prints are smooth.
|
|
Mocassins.
|
|
|
|
Henry throws Glass a look... he knows what that means.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
Could be Sioux... Blackfoot even.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
But you figure they're `Ree.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I don't figure nothin', Captain.
|
|
But whoever it is, they're a good
|
|
day behind Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
Glass walks, leading his horse, as he follows the tracks away
|
|
from camp. Henry rides after him.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
And they're on his trail too, so we
|
|
should keep it quiet... don't
|
|
announce we're back here.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
You told me once you knew enough to
|
|
keep away from the `Ree.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I do.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
You figure this is smart then?
|
|
|
|
Glass swings up onto his horse.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
You're welcome to head back,
|
|
Captain.
|
|
|
|
Glass trots off. Henry watches him a beat, then throws a
|
|
glance into the trees... follows after Glass.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass kneels on the ground, building a fire-bed... dragging
|
|
the dirt over the fire and rocks. Henry's under a blanket,
|
|
watching him.
|
|
95.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
What if we find Fitzgerald... and I
|
|
ask you not to do this?
|
|
|
|
Glass spreads a blanket over the ground.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Don't ask me.
|
|
|
|
Glass settles in on the warm earth. Henry just keeps
|
|
watching him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - LATER
|
|
|
|
ANGLE ON HENRY...
|
|
|
|
...asleep under the blanket. O.S. RUSTLING sends his eyes
|
|
flashing open. He raises up... rifle ready.
|
|
|
|
He glances at Glass, who puts a finger over his lips.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
(WHISPERS)
|
|
`Ree?
|
|
|
|
Glass doesn't answer... just keeps searching the brush.
|
|
|
|
Henry's groggy eyes dart around the night... spots MOVEMENT
|
|
IN THE BRUSH.
|
|
|
|
HENRY (CONT'D)
|
|
There!
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Wait!
|
|
|
|
But it's too late... Henry fires... BOOM... the shot explodes
|
|
through the night...
|
|
|
|
...and the DEER leaps away.
|
|
|
|
Henry looks to Glass... shakes his head... sorry.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
So much for stayin' quiet.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
96.
|
|
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD - SQUATTING BESIDE A SMALL FIRE...
|
|
|
|
...staring out into the darkness, as the GUNSHOT ECHOES OVER
|
|
HIM. Fitzgerald immediately throws dirt over the flames.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass and Henry are loaded up, back on their horses.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Guess you would've been better off
|
|
on your own.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
We needed to pick up some time
|
|
anyways.
|
|
|
|
The two riders disappear into the dark trees.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass and Henry riding across a meadow. Glass stops... tilts
|
|
his head back to sniff the air.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
Whatta ya got?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Smoke.
|
|
|
|
Glass pulls some snow from his horse's mane... tosses it in
|
|
the air, and watches it blow to the side.
|
|
|
|
Glass turns his horse toward the breeze... squints out into
|
|
the night.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
No more than mile out that way.
|
|
(pulls his rifle)
|
|
I'll head in from the west... you
|
|
take the east.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
What if it's `Ree?
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
Then we leave `em be... meet back
|
|
up here.
|
|
97.
|
|
|
|
Henry nods... Glass takes off at a trot. Henry veers the
|
|
other direction... splitting up across the snow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Splinters of moonlight shoot through the pines. Glass on
|
|
horseback, walking through the trees... appearing and
|
|
disappearing.
|
|
|
|
He spots something in the distance... the slightest of glows.
|
|
Glass eases off his horse... wraps the reins around a branch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Henry's already off his horse... leading it through the
|
|
trees... searching as he walks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass moves silently through the darkness... rifle poised to
|
|
aim and fire... just like the first time we saw him,
|
|
perfectly comfortable in this world.
|
|
|
|
His eyes shine in the darkness, drifting back and forth...
|
|
picking up everything.
|
|
|
|
He reaches the glow... the remains of a campfire. The
|
|
slightest bit of dying smoke rises into the air. Glass
|
|
crouches down, studying the surround ground... HOOF-PRINTS
|
|
blended in with the other tracks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Henry's horse is making too much noise with each step. He
|
|
stops walking... wraps the reins around a tree... walks back
|
|
around the horse...
|
|
|
|
...AND THERE'S FITZGERALD STARING AT HIM...
|
|
|
|
...Glass' Anstadt aimed and ready to fire.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
Didn't figure an important man like
|
|
you to be away from your stove on a
|
|
night as cold as this, Captain.
|
|
You lost?
|
|
|
|
Henry just stares back at Fitzgerald and that rifle. His
|
|
eyes drift to his own rifle, still strapped onto his saddle.
|
|
98.
|
|
|
|
HENRY
|
|
I'm here to save your life.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
I done told you boys... I don't
|
|
need savin' by you or nobody else.
|
|
|
|
Henry knows he's only got one chance... he makes a grab for
|
|
the rifle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass running his fingers across the tracks. Suddenly an
|
|
O.S. GUNSHOT EXPLODES IN THE DISTANCE. Glass spins to it...
|
|
races back through the trees toward his horse.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass at full gallop through the woods... veering between
|
|
trees... ducking branches.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass charges from the forest... spots Henry's horse standing
|
|
in the trees... tears through the snow toward it... leaps off
|
|
the still-moving animal in a fluid slide... hits the ground
|
|
with his rifle ready...
|
|
|
|
...and sees HENRY'S BODY face-up in the snow.
|
|
|
|
Glass drops to a knee... scans the darkness, as he slides
|
|
over to Henry...
|
|
|
|
...and we see he's a bloody mess... a GUNSHOT WOUND in his
|
|
chest leaking out onto the snow... HIS HEAD SCALPED... LEFT
|
|
EAR SLICED OFF.
|
|
|
|
Glass stands back up, turning in a circle, as he peers into
|
|
the distance around him. But there's nothing out there.
|
|
Glass SCREAMS in rage.
|
|
|
|
He turns back to Henry... crouches down over him.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
You shouldn't a come.
|
|
|
|
As Glass looks at Henry, he notices something... takes Henry
|
|
by the chin, and tilts his head. And HENRY'S RIGHT EAR HAS
|
|
BEEN CUT OFF AS WELL.
|
|
99.
|
|
|
|
Glass stares at Henry a beat, then squints out into the
|
|
forest.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
(repeating Spotted Horse's
|
|
words under his breath)
|
|
Arikara take right ear of Sioux.
|
|
Left ear of whites. Not know what
|
|
they take from you.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass on horseback, leading Henry's horse behind him across
|
|
the snow-covered meadow. Henry's fur-covered body is draped
|
|
over the saddle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
A thick layer of ice covers the narrow river, thinning just a
|
|
bit at the center. Glass kneels near the middle, chopping at
|
|
the thick ice to get to the water beneath. He makes a
|
|
hole... dips his canteen down into it, glancing around into
|
|
the darkness.
|
|
|
|
Then Glass turns... stares up a slope into the dark forest
|
|
beyond... like he knows what's waiting for him there.
|
|
|
|
He walks to the horses, tied in the trees at the base of the
|
|
slope... Henry still laying across the saddle of his horse in
|
|
his bloody furs.
|
|
|
|
Glass SNAPS A BRANCH FROM A FALLEN TREE... looks back up that
|
|
slope.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
OUR POV FROM DEEP IN THE FOREST...
|
|
|
|
...watching from the shadowy brush, as Glass appears up over
|
|
the distant slope... riding through the trees, with Henry
|
|
draped over the horse behind.
|
|
|
|
The forest is quiet... just the CRACKING of crusty snow and
|
|
branches under the horses' hooves.
|
|
|
|
Then BOOM... as the ANSTADT BARREL WE HADN'T SEEN BESIDE US
|
|
FLASHES IN THE NIGHT...
|
|
|
|
...and Glass tumbles off his horse.
|
|
100.
|
|
|
|
The horses prance around with a start, then settle... and
|
|
then FITZGERALD RISES FROM THE BRUSH BESIDE US... eases
|
|
toward the horses, reloading the Anstadt as he moves.
|
|
|
|
He reaches Glass, face down in the snow... his furs covering
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
And Fitzgerald has that rifle aimed, ready for Glass to
|
|
suddenly roll over firing...
|
|
|
|
...but Glass doesn't move. Fitzgerald nudges him with his
|
|
boot, then crouches down... grabs Glass by the shoulder, and
|
|
pulls him over...
|
|
|
|
...and there's HENRY'S LIFELESS FACE HIDDEN BENEATH THE
|
|
FURS... and that BROKEN BRANCH sticking up along his back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ANGLE FROM BEHIND HENRY'S HORSE...
|
|
|
|
...on the REST OF THE BRANCH RIGGED TO GLASS' SADDLE to hold
|
|
Henry upright...
|
|
|
|
...and then what we thought was Henry flung over the second
|
|
horse... MOVING... the bloody fur-covered arm lifting a
|
|
rifle... the head raising up... it's GLASS... taking aim...
|
|
|
|
...as Fitzgerald realizes what's happened... spins with the
|
|
Anstadt...
|
|
|
|
...to Glass laying across the horse... rifle dead set on
|
|
Fitzgerald... BOOM... BOOM... both rifles explode...
|
|
|
|
...Fitzgerald goes flying backward into the brush.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald's wild shot hits Henry's horse, sending it rearing
|
|
up, tossing Glass to the ground.
|
|
|
|
But Glass is on his feet in a flash... reloading as he
|
|
charges into the brush...
|
|
|
|
...but FITZGERALD IS GONE.
|
|
|
|
Until the flash of movement behind Glass... he turns... as
|
|
the butt of the Anstadt whips through the air... WHACK...
|
|
clubs him across the head, sending him tumbling down the
|
|
slope to the frozen river.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald swings the Anstadt back over his BLOODY SHOULDER,
|
|
snatches up his knife, and charges down the slope to finish
|
|
Glass off.
|
|
101.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass lies on the ice, barely conscious. Blood oozes down
|
|
his head... over his eyes. He wipes it away to see
|
|
Fitzgerald barreling down toward him.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald dives in attack, but Glass kicks up his leg,
|
|
sending Fitzgerald flying over... SLAMMING into the frozen
|
|
river, his head CRACKING THE ICE.
|
|
|
|
Glass rips the knife from his belt... moves after Fitzgerald,
|
|
his feet slipping and sliding under him.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald rises to his feet... the men charge like two wild
|
|
animals... crash into each other... knives flailing.
|
|
|
|
They roll along the ice, blades glistening... slicing through
|
|
furs... across flesh.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald thrusts his knife down... plants it through the
|
|
back of Glass' hand, pinning it to the ice. Glass CRIES
|
|
OUT... drops his own knife to pull Fitzgerald's out. As he
|
|
does, Fitzgerald kicks Glass in the face, sending him sailing
|
|
back... sliding to the center of the river.
|
|
|
|
The thin ice around him splinters... cracks. Glass looks
|
|
up... sees Fitzgerald stalking toward him, HOLDING BOTH
|
|
KNIVES now. Glass is trapped...
|
|
|
|
...until he pounds his elbow down on the weakened ice... it
|
|
begins to give... he pounds it again and again... Fitzgerald
|
|
speeds up to get to Glass in time... raises one of the
|
|
knives, as Glass shatters the ice... drops beneath the
|
|
surface.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald rushes after him, but the ice cracks under his
|
|
feet, forcing him back.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
UNDERWATER...
|
|
|
|
...and Glass just under the ice, floating with the current.
|
|
His fingers search for a hole, but there's nothing.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
102.
|
|
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD...
|
|
|
|
...making his way down the river, peering through the ice,
|
|
searching for Glass. He spots something... stops... leans
|
|
close to make out the shape... it's GLASS' FEET.
|
|
|
|
Then suddenly, GLASS' FIST EXPLODES THROUGH THE ICE AT
|
|
FITZGERALD'S FEET... grab Fitzgerald's leg, pulling him down.
|
|
|
|
Fitzgerald crashes to the ice... it splinters around him...
|
|
gives away, and he sinks into the icy water... but the
|
|
ANSTADT STRAPPED AROUND HIM CATCHES ON THE ICE... holds him
|
|
against the current.
|
|
|
|
Glass drags himself from the water... stands... stares down
|
|
at Fitzgerald trapped in the hole... his face looking up at
|
|
Glass through the ice. Glass lifts one of the fallen
|
|
knives... stands over Fitzgerald.
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD
|
|
(through the water and
|
|
ICE)
|
|
Help me!
|
|
(off Glass' stare)
|
|
Glass... please!
|
|
|
|
Glass hesitates a beat, staring at him, just as he did with
|
|
Bridger that night in the bunkhouse. And then Glass leans
|
|
down... grabs the Anstadt to pull Fitzgerald up.
|
|
|
|
Except Glass SLICES THE BLADE ACROSS THE STRAP OF THE
|
|
ANSTADT, sending Fitzgerald floating away under the ice, as
|
|
Glass holds on to the Anstadt.
|
|
|
|
CUT TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
FITZGERALD...
|
|
|
|
...floating under the surface... pounding at the ice as he
|
|
drifts, until his swinging slows... stops... his body drifts
|
|
away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
|
|
|
|
Glass stands on the ice, blood dripping down his face,
|
|
holding his Anstadt. He begins to tremble... not from the
|
|
cold, but from finally reaching the end of this journey. His
|
|
eyes begin to fill with tears...
|
|
103.
|
|
|
|
...and then he sees ELK'S TONGUE, and SEVERAL OTHER ARIKARA
|
|
WARRIORS watching him from the other side of the river.
|
|
|
|
Glass and Elk's Tongue exchange a long stare, until finally
|
|
Glass SCREAMS OUT.
|
|
|
|
GLASS
|
|
I am Tatanka Wicasa! I have killed
|
|
whites and I have killed Arikara
|
|
and I have killed grizzly! AND I
|
|
WILL KILL YOU!
|
|
|
|
Elk's Tongue doesn't move... just stares back at Glass...
|
|
soaked in blood and water. Then Glass CRIES OUT at the
|
|
warriors again.
|
|
|
|
GLASS (CONT'D)
|
|
COME ON!
|
|
|
|
But the Arikara don't attack... don't move at all... until
|
|
Elk's Tongue gives Glass the SLIGHTEST OF NODS, then turns...
|
|
they disappear back into the trees.
|
|
|
|
Glass watches them fade away, then collapses to his knees on
|
|
the icy river... exhausted in every possible way.
|
|
|
|
He begins to cry.
|
|
|
|
FADE OUT.
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE END
|