"AMERICAN SNIPER"
Written By Jason Hall
Based on the book by Chris Kyle with Scott McEwen and Jim DeFelice
All gave some. Some gave all.
1 OVER BLACK 1
The groan of tank treads drowns out THE CALL TO PRAYER as an entire MARINE COMPANY advances over the top of us.
The sun melts over squat residences on a narrow street. MARINE COMPANY creeps toward us like a cautious Goliath. FOOT SOLDIERS walk alongside Humvees and tanks.
Sun glints off a slab of corrugated steel. Beneath it--
CHRIS KYLE lays prone, dick in the dirt, eye to the glass of a .300 Win-Mag sniper rifle. He’s Texas stock with a boyish grin, blondish goatee and vital blue eyes. Both those eyes are open as he tracks the scene below, sweating his ass off in the shade of steel.
Goat balks and fixes his M4 on the rooftop door.
CHRIS SCOPE POV
TRACK ACROSS bombed-out buildings, twisted metal and golden-domed mosques. Ragged curtains flutter out a window. Cat-tails on the river sway the same direction. We see him studying windage; we see what he’s thinking--
SFX: A LOW FREQUENCY BUZZ escalates over picture as his concentration deepens. Cross-hairs land on--
A MAN ON CELL PHONE watches the convoy from a rooftop.
(03.18.14) 2.
MAN ON CELL studies the convoy, his hair tossed by wind. CROSS-HAIR push left of target, compensating for windage.
SFX: Chris takes a deep inhale, holds it, then expels.
His finger is taking up trigger-slack when the man dips his shoulder slightly. Chris holds off as--
MAN ON CELL hangs up and steps away.
Chris sucks air. Close.The ambient world floods back in. Barked orders, diesel engines and--
A WOMAN AND KID exit the same structure. They’re headed up the sidewalk but cut sharply into the street.
(ECU)-- The woman cradles something beneath her robes.
CROSS-HAIRS ON WOMAN as she pulls a cylindrical object from her robes. His vision obscured but--
(03.18.14) 3.
SFX: his heart-beat, THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP.
THE KID moves toward the convoy with the grenade.
MOTHER motions the Kid to hurry along(ECU)-- her robes flutter, trash blows in the street, the dust off her son’s footsteps; all blowing the same direction.
THE KID sprints toward the Marines.
IN THE STREET
YOUNG MARINES. Wading into war. Boots scuffing dirt.
CLOSE ON CHRIS
His exhale hisses from tobacco-stained teeth.Breathe it down. He struggles to get calm, fighting for control. SFX: THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP--
CROSS-HAIRS left of the running target, leading him, compensating for a dozen different considerations as--
He pauses upon exhale. The world goes quiet. Landscape pulses with color and focus. He stokes the trigger and--
THE BULLET
Leaps from the barrel. Cracks like a whip. The .300 round hurls forward, glinting as it enters the flesh of--
A WHITE-TAIL BUCK
It staggers, draws and topples to the ground. We are--
A field shrouded in fog. CHRIS KYLE(8) jumps from a deer blind, innocent and excited, running toward the buck.
(03.18.14) 4.
MAN’S VOICE Get back here.
Chris stops, turns back. WAYNE KYLE, his father, is sturdy and earnest with mutton chops and Texas calm.
Chris nods, clear-eyed, as if hearing the whisper of destiny. He grabs the .30-06, running again, bounding to--
THE BUCK
Glassy brown eyes look up at Chris. It’s still alive.
Chris processes his first kill, watching as--(ECU) a flea crawls around the animal’s inner-ear.
Chris straddles the deer. It tries to gouge him. He looks frightened but drags the blade across its neck.
A Protestant church. CHRIS is dressed in Sunday best, shuffling pages of a LITTLE BLUE BIBLE to create breeze.
(03.18.14) 5.
DEBBIE, their mother. She wears big oval glasses and runs a wayward-boys home with that same steady hand.
Dust motes drift across a dresser, settling on a Pop- Warner football, that BLUE BIBLE, and METALLIC TOY SOLDIERS guarding the bullet casing from his first buck.
PUSH THROUGH the modest ranch house into--
WAYNE lectures his boys over venison.
Jeff bites back tears. Chris looks troubled.
FROM THE BACK, we watch a BIG BULLY pummel a KID ON THE GROUND. His meaty fists coming down repeatedly as--
(03.18.14) 6.
KID ON THE GROUND is JEFF, his nose bloody. PUSH TOWARD the fight--(ECU) blood flecks fly from the Bully’s fist.
A FIST CONNECTS with BIG BULLY’s temple. He goes down. Chris stands over the bully, beating the tar out of him.
CHRIS stands with his arms extended. Wind blows dirt off his palms and it plumes out across the land.
WAYNE removes his belt and lays it on the table. CHRIS looks at it, worried.
(03.18.14) 7.
Chris shows the swollen knuckles of his hand, and nods.
The barn door closes leaving us in brindled darkness.
“AMERICAN SNIPER”
A hand grips the tie on a bronc. CHRIS sits bareback atop the horse, its nostrilssteaming, eyes shock wide. (ECU)-- a hair-line crack along its right front hoof.
BUZZER SOUNDS. GATE OPENS. The bronco leaps out. Empty stands blur past. The Bronc and Chris united in a futile struggle. He leans right, the bronc circles right, staying off that bad hoof. Chris makes the buzzer but--
He gets tossed on dismount. The bronco stomps his hand. He scrambles out of the ring as RODEO CLOWNS distract it.
Headlights rattle over a dirt road. JEFF drives. CHRIS rides, BAG OF ICE on hand, BELT BUCKLE prize on the dash. He stares into the field where A WILD HORSE, races alongside them, a spectral image in the darkness.
(03.18.14) 8.
Chris swings his bag of ice, smacks Jeff in the face.
He swerves off the road. The truck almost coming apart before he ramps back up, coming to a dusty halt outside--
Spanish moss hangs over a shackle-board residence. Chris tumbles out the truck, clips on the belt buckle and--
CHRIS swaggers into the narrow bunkhouse. A sheet hangs in back, separating sleeping area from living area.
Movement back there. A MAN ASS suddenly protrudes from the curtain as a BURLY COWBOY-TYPE climbs into jeans.
SARAH steps out, his high school sweetheart all grown up.
(03.18.14) 9.
Cowboy leaves his shirt open flaunting a big hairy chest.
Cowboy doesn’t answer. Chris SLAMS HIS HEAD into the refrigerator and ramps him out the front door.
She jumps at the chance-- ripping clothes out of closets.
The door slams behind her. Chris stares at the dent in the fridge, wounded. He opens it and pulls out a beer.
TV plays across Chris’ drunken face. He lays on the sofa, a beer on his chest. JEFF is sprawled in a chair.
(03.18.14) 10.
Chris is bleary, lost and drifting to sleep. The images on the TV don’t immediately register but--
NEWS FOOTAGE of the WORLD TRADE CENTER BOMBING (1993) plays on TV. An explosion has demolished the garage.
American flags at half mast. His chest rises and falls--
The faces of INNOCENT VICTIMS play across the screen. Chris’ injured hand slowly curls into a fist.
Posters of destroyers on walls. The NAVY RECRUITER is lean and shrewd.
He slides him a brochure-- “NAVY SEALS” emerge from the water, armed and bound for glory.
(03.18.14) 11.
CHRIS and 50 OTHER CANDIDATES lay on their backs doing flutter-kicks on a patch of blacktop surrounded by beige buildings. INSTRUCTORS wield hoses.
Chris is twisted in agony and clearly dislikes the water.
(03.18.14) 12.
A CANDIDATE chokes a giggle. Rolle wheels around on--
“BIGGLES” is choking, coughing, struggling. ROLLE points to A BRASS BELL mounted on the back of a truck.
BIGGLES is beaten, legs giving out, ready to quit when--
(03.18.14) 13.
THE BELL RINGS. Chris jerks up, worried it was Biggles but-- an ATHLETIC CANDIDATE staggers off.
Chris and Biggles share a look, a vow, as--
A bonfire crackles atop a sand dune. CANDIDATES crouch in a pit they dug, hugging oars, shivering with hypothermia. CHRIS stands over the ditch, trying to make INSTRUCTORS laugh to earn a place by the fire beside BIGGLES.
INSTRUCTORS in stitches. Fire flickering off Chris’ face.
Fog shrouds CANDIDATES COVERED IN MUD, seated belly-to- back, chattering and quaking, hypothermic.
“INSTRUCTOR TONY”(34), a salty cholo, walks their line.
(03.18.14) 14.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” You really from Connecticut, Dauber? I never met a hick from Hartford.
“DAUBER” is 6’4” and 240 with a flop of yellow hair like the character from Coach. A sleepy Connecticut cowboy.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” I don’t think he likes black dudes, “D”.
“D” is African American, from Indiana, stoic and stacked. He has a rhythmic grumble and a meat-eater’s glare.
“D” That’s alright, sir. I’m not black.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” No?
“D” No, I’m new black. We run slow, jump low, swim good and shop at Gap. We make white folk proud then hose their ladies.
“BIGGLES” still giggles, but he’s looking fit as they chip away everything that isn’t a Navy Seal.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” You hungry Biggles? I’d bet you’d eat the ass out of a low-flying duck.
“SQUIRREL” is a San Clemente surfer kid, just tall enough to ride roller-coaster, with a jutty jaw.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” (screams in his face) Squirrel! Where’d you hide your nuts?
“CHRIS” sits up front, covered in mud. His eyes burn steely blue, full of resolve. He’s found himself here.
INSTRUCTOR “TONY” How about you old man? How you feeling?
(03.18.14) 15.
The boys send up a spirited “HOOYAH” and-- TONY looks them over with some small measure of approval.
The INSTRUCTOR CADRE watches 32 CANDIDATES SWARM each other, howling and dog-piling at the end of hell-week.
A crowd watches the boys toss darts at a bulls-eye drawn on DAUBER’S naked back. At the bar, BIGGLES and CHRIS--
A brunette steps to the bar. A sharp object with heavy eye-shadow and tight leather pants. This girl owns her sexuality but she’s often been used for it.
This is “TAYA”. She is trying to ignore the advances of A SHORT NAVY GUY but he’s relentless. Chris watches as (ECU)-- Taya’s fingertips whiten, gripping her glass.
Chris edges closer, she looks up, defensive-- but he just stands there, letting his protective presence be felt.
(03.18.14) 16.
Navy Guy retreats. Taya sips her scotch, doesn’t look up.
She takes him in. Loose sweatshirt, no hair gel.
(03.18.14) 17.
She’s taken aback by his observation.
Chris passes her a shot. She throws it back, fierce.
(03.18.14) 18.
It’s a lie and they both know it.
She levels a look and downs another shot--
(03.18.14) 19.
Mist rolls in. Chris holds Taya’s hair as she pukes. She takes a deep breath, wipes her mouth--
She smiles, then turns to puke again--
An arid range with human-shaped targets. PETTY OFFICER TOSH (Irish/Japanese, nasty) walks past prone students.
FIND CHRIS on .300 Win-Mag. Both eyes open. Dip packed. Deep breaths. His finger taking up the trigger-slack.
Chris exhales, pauses, strokes-- BAM!
A ZOLOFT BROCHURE shows smiling faces. TAYA wears a suit- skirt and tries to mimic the esprit of the brochure. She leaves a box of samples with the RECEPTIONIST but her smile fades as she pulls her trolley to the door--
Blades of light leak through closed blinds. Taya hides under blankets on the sofa. PHONE RINGS, goes to message:
(03.18.14) 20.
She snatches up the phone--
--looking for a reason not to be alone.
ON CHRIS, both eyes open looking downrange.
Chris chases his breath, trying to focus, but--
PAN ACROSS a “target shoot” game to a bench overlooking surf. CHRIS and TAYA sit with a GIANT TEDDY BEAR.
She smiles at his sweetness.
(03.18.14) 21.
The Ferris wheel casts its glow on them.
It weighs on him. And she feels safe.
BAM! He misses. It spits dirt. Not even close.
(03.18.14) 22.
CHRIS sits on the couch, anxious, until TAYA appears in the hall in lingerie. She slinks closer, straddling him, determined to blow his mind but--
She finds his eyes. Finds her breath.
He gently lifts her up and lays her across the couch.
ANOTHER ANGLE
Soft light on pale bodies. Taya writhes with impatient longing but Chris’ steady hand forces her into the present. She’s swept up, eyes filling with tears as he eases into her-- she gasps and arcs and draws him deeper.
PO TOSH stands over CHRIS, fed up now.
CHRIS POV (BOTH EYES VIEW)
The circular scope floats over the target. Left of scope, a SWATCH OF GRASS doesn’t sway like the rest.
(03.18.14) 23.
The scope drifts left of target-- BAM! A RATTLESNAKE is flung through the air, blown to shit, 500 yards out.
He sets the rifle aside and starts cranking out push-ups.
Ethereal white sheets. Two bodies lay like spoons. Chris WHISPERS SOMETHING. Taya closes her eyes. A beat--
She stares at the wall.
She moves to stand. He holds her put.
(03.18.14) 24.
She accepts with a deep kiss and prances off with the sheet. He smiles and falls back onto the bed. The curtains dance in the morning light. Then--
Chris bounds up, running into the next room. Taya stands in front of the television. They both watch as--
ON TV NEWS: THE SECOND PLANE hits the World Trade Center.
It steals their breath. Chris hugs her close, trying to shield her from it. His shock bleeds to rage.
The storm closing in. CHRIS two-steps TAYA around the dance floor to Van Morrison’s romantic “Someone Like You.” Chris looks boyish and dapper and Taya is flush with beauty and promise. The moment is quietly sincere with the entire WEDDING PARTY watching when--
She pulls at his collar to reveal GREEN SPRAY-PAINT upside his neck.
(03.18.14) 25.
Then she sees BIGGLES, DAUBER, “D” and SQUIRREL rolling with laughter at the bar, and remembers who she married.
He dances her away from them and pulls his jacket aside, flashing his boys the Trident pinned to his chest.
AT THE BAR
TONY bowls up; once their instructor, now their Chief.
“D” What’s the word, Chief?
They hoist their drinks, barking approval, “HOOYAH!”
ON DANCE FLOOR
Taya sees the nod from Biggles to Chris,we’re going. She tenses up in his arms, her feet growing heavy.
He pulls her close, HIS EYES FIXED on someone else--
JEFF KYLE stands on the rail in MARINE DRESS UNIFORM.
(03.18.14) 26.
CAKE CUTTING - EVENING
The boat rocks on choppy water. Taya dabs cake on Chris’s nose and they kiss. THE BOOM of distant fireworks is followed by AIR-RAID SIRENS as shock & awe hit Baghdad.
CUT TO BLACK.
CHYRON: “OPERATION PHANTOM FURY: 2nd BATTLE OF FALLUJAH”
SOLDIERS sit elbow to elbow. 6 SEAL SNIPERS and A SQUAD OF MARINES to watch their backs. CHRIS tucks the little blue Bible and American flag and into his webbing then removes his wedding band, hanging it from his necklace.
The rig hits a pothole and faces clench expecting an IED.
The truck battles to a stop.
The hatch falls open--
A gunmetal sky. The staccato pop of GUNFIRE in the distance. SNIPERS and SUPPORT cross an orchard.
(03.18.14) 27.
CHRIS walks upright. The Marine paired with Chris is a mouthy Arkansas boy, “WINSTON”, skitters tree to tree.
A DOZEN MARINES are posted outside an apartment complex.
An open atrium eight stories tall. CHRIS and WINSTON walk past a giant pile of furniture and debris tossed down.
They start up the stairs.
Chris walks from APARTMENT TO APARTMENT, some vandalized, others untouched, checking sight-lines out windows.
He unzips and peels off into the bathroom.
(03.18.14) 28.
WINSTON FIRES TWO ROUNDS in the bathroom. Chris pulls a Springfield .45 as--
A GOAT
Bounds out of the bathroom, runs out the apartment door and leaps OVER THE RAILING, falling six floors.
RAILING
CHRIS and WINSTON look down to the lobby, where Marines stand around the DEAD GOAT.
“GOAT” (not Winston) will be his name from here out.
Under a corrugated piece of steel, a ritual unfolds--
Chris packs a dip. He lays out his Bible and flag. Loads bullets in a wrist-sheath. Starts to marshal his breath.
Time slows as he lowers his eye to the glass.
(NOTE: we are back to the beginning of the film.)
CHRIS SCOPE POV
TRACK ACROSS bombed-out buildings, twisted metal and golden-domed mosques. Ragged curtains flutter out a window. Cat-tails on the river sway the same direction.
SFX: A LOW FREQUENCY BUZZ escalates over picture as his concentration deepens. Cross-hairs land on--
A MAN ON CELL PHONE watches the convoy from a rooftop.
(03.18.14) 29.
MAN ON CELL studies the convoy, his hair tossed by wind. CROSS-HAIR push left of target, compensating for windage.
SFX: Chris takes a deep inhale, holds it, then expels.
His finger is taking up trigger-slack when MAN ON CELL dips his shoulder, hangs up and steps away.
Chris sucks air. Close.The ambient world floods back in. Barked orders, diesel engines and--
A WOMAN AND KID exit the same structure. They’re headed up the sidewalk but cut sharply into the street.
(ECU)-- The woman cradles something beneath her robes.
CROSS-HAIRS ON WOMAN as she pulls a cylindrical object.
SFX: his heart-beat, THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP.
(03.18.14) 30.
THE KID moves toward the convoy with the grenade.
MOTHER motions him to hurry along(ECU)-- her robes flutter, trash blows in the street, the dust off her son’s footsteps; all blowing the same direction.
THE KID sprints toward the Marines.
IN THE STREET
YOUNG MARINES. Wading into war. Boots scuffing dirt.
CLOSE ON CHRIS
His eyes water with focus, his exhale hisses from tobacco- stained teeth. Breathe it down.He struggles to get calm. SFX: THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP--
CROSS-HAIRS left of the running target, leading him, compensating for a dozen different considerations as--
He pauses upon exhale. The world goes quiet. Landscape pulses with color and focus. He stokes the trigger and--
THE BULLET
Leaps from the barrel. Cracks like a whip. The .300 round hurls forward, glinting as it enters the flesh of--
CLOSE ON CHRIS
He winces, sickened, and struggling to swallow the little piece of him that just died.
CHRIS SCOPE POV
MOTHER flees down sidewalk, robes aflutter. CROSS-HAIRS lead her. BAM. It pocks wall behind her. A round ejects. CROSS-HAIRS swing forward, leads her more. BAM. She runs into scope, reaches center, meets bullet. A red mist.
(03.18.14) 31.
He nudges Chris, trying to get a celebration out of him--
This is the reality of war. Not like he anticipated.
CLOSE ON CHRIS
Breath racing. Bleeding sweat. Trying to process his disgust. Trying to inject some purpose, mumbling: Protect the Marines. Protect the Marines. Protect...
Clouds crawl over Chris like ghosts, swirling feverishly as HOURS SLIDE BY. His face takes on a preternatural blankness as he begins to slip into the shadows of self.
Suddenly-- clouds halt, pupils flare, chest inflates.
Sun flares as MARC LEE advances alongside 1ST PLATOON MARINES (40 men) when-- A SHOT SOUNDS. A BODY TUMBLES out of the sky and lands in their midst with a meaty thud.
1ST MARINE #1 -Fuck, man! What the hell--
The Marines duck for cover then look to the sky--
1ST MARINE #2 -Where’d it come from?
Marines slowly return to standing, glancing up at surrounding structures trying to spot their protector.
Chris lays atop a baby crib. A scrim hangs in front of him. Sunlight burns through it, casting a thousand pinpricks of light across his face. SUN MARCHES ACROSS the sky and pixels twist over his cataleptic shape.
(03.18.14) 32.
Suddenly-- sun halts, chest inflates, eyes flare.
A CAR SPEEDS toward 1ST PLATOON. MARINES open fire with the feeble POP-POP of M4s. The car still coming--
A SNIPER SHOT BOOMS across the sky like thunder. The windshield spiders, blood splattered, and the car stops.
As Marines search rooftops for him-- THE CAR EXPLODES.
CHRIS plants a loop-hole charge at the base of the wall and steps around the corner to trigger the charge.
CUT BETWEEN:
Black robes draw across mosaic tiles as “PHANTOM SNIPER” slips down a hallway. A Dragunov Sniper Rifle over shoulder, he hears the loop-hole charge detonate nearby and turns, entering a tiled washroom to his left.
This is “MUSTAFA”.
LOOTED ROOM / CHRIS
CHRIS lays his kit in front of the blast-hole: gun, flag, Bible. Packs a dip, elbows meet cement, eye meets glass--
WASHROOM / MUSTAFA
MUSTAFA lays in front of a mortar-hole. In a leather satchel: ammo, oil, cell phones. His eye meets glass--
LOOTED ROOM
CHRIS finds his stillness. The instant he does-- SHADOWS CREEP over him and night swallows the room.
A palm tree burns like a candle over Fallujah. Below it, head-lamps dance chaotic as VIPER TEAM MARINES exit a house spray-painting “X” on the gate.
(03.18.14) 33.
MARINE VIPER #1 --hot as Bigfoot’s ballsack over here. (knocks on next gate) Derka, derka, derka....
MARINE VIPERS laugh, bowling into a courtyard.
CHRIS SCOPE POV (N/V)
Glowing green hue. CROSS-HAIRS track the Marines entry, sweep the street and push toward the rooftop, when--
A SHOT SOUNDS. A MARINE FALLS in a 2nd story window.
MARINE VIPER #4 (OS) (over radio) --Fuck! Man down! It came through the window--
CROSS-HAIRS whip across rooftops, on a swivel.
Viper Marines drag the soldier out. In the phosphorous green glow, we watch his body tremor as he dies.
SFX: CHRIS’ ELEVATED HEARTBEAT pounds over scene as--
WASHROOM
MUSTAFA flees down the hall. A fluttering shadow in darkness, except for the reflectiveswoosh on his Nikes.
LOOTED ROOM
Chris lays on the gun, brow pinched with onus, silence like a scream. This happened on my watch.
CHRIS SCOPE POV (N/V)
CROSS-HAIRS TRACK across the city-scape. TIME LAPSES and the world (in scope) SPEEDS UP. Humvees and tanks streak past, lights blur, trees blow in choppy havoc, then--
TIME SLOWS to a crawl as CROSS-HAIRS FIND A MALE hurrying into a alley, pulling shit from a pack. We zero-in and-- a flame flickers. The male is smoking opium.
(03.18.14) 34.
CROSS-HAIRS drift off him and TIME SPEEDS UP, dogs eat a rotting body by the roadside, vicious in fast motion. TWO WOMEN wobble down the road with buckets, wind whips roadside grass into a tizzy and WE HALT ON--
CROSS-HAIRS ON A PERFECT CIRCLE in the grass,a rifle- barrel? Stay on it. In stillness it finds context; a RUSTY PIPE. TIME SPEEDS FORWARD, TWO BOYS zip by on a Vespa, OLD MEN frantically bow to mecca on rooftops. Clouds boil across dawn sky. His eye never leaves glass.
Marc Lee picks up a stack of YELLOW PAPERS on the desk.
Chris rubs red “shooter’s strawberries” from his elbows.
(03.18.14) 35.
Marc’s eyes land on piss-stained cement where Chris lay; this fucker didn’t take his eye off the glass all night.
Behind miles of wire, a twenty-acre BASE CAMP. Aluminum trailers, shithouses and tent farms. A Humvee pulls past--
Chris steps in, letting the air-conditioning blow down on him. Cots, lockers and cruise-boxes line the room. Biggles reads a PUNISHER graphic novel, doesn’t look up.
A heaviness falls over Chris, then slowly--
(03.18.14) 36.
He’s joking but not. Biggles smiles, jealous.
SNIPER SEQUENCE
OVERWATCH
CROSS-HAIRS land on INSURGENT WITH RIFLE; INSURGENT PEEPING three times; INSURGENT BURYING IEDs. BAM-BAM-BAM.
CROSS-HAIRS are moving, no answer follows.
MARINE INTEL TRAILER
Chris is covered in dust, sitting in a small chair facing two clean, well rested JAG OFFICERS.
(03.18.14) 37.
JAG OFFICER #2 Your scores at sniper school were average at best, then you get here and you’re just lighting the world on fire?
Chris opens a PLASTIC WATER BOTTLE, sips it, waits--
OVERWATCH
Chris takes over for a MARINE SNIPER in a window.
Chris settles in, still going through his ritual when AN INSURGENT crosses the street with CAR BATTERY and AK-47.
Exhale, pause, pull. A SHOT RINGS OUT.
MARINE INTEL TRAILER
CHRIS scrunches that EMPTY WATER BOTTLE, gratingly, as JAG OFFICERS continue the interrogation:
MESS HALL
(03.18.14) 38.
CHRIS, BIGGLES, D and DAUBER enter. Eyes find them, heads nodding to Chris, that the guy?Word spreading.
Biggles sees it, hops up on a chair--
Chris flings a cafeteria tray at his head.
In murky predawn light, CHRIS sits on a SATELLITE PHONE--
Chris covers the phone as distant gunfire chatters.
INTER-CUT WITH:
TAYA sits in front of a partially assembled baby-crib with a six month baby bump. She turns down the TV.
HIS CROSS-HAIRS track across a distant rooftop. Socks sway from a clothesline in a 5 knot breeze.
(03.18.14) 39.
She’s touched, hormonal, starts crying.
CROSS-HAIRS TRACK INSURGENTS on the street; then linger on a parked car, measuring distance by height--
(03.18.14) 40.
Her face falls as-- TV NEWS shows the graphic of “American Death Toll in Iraq.”The number is 835.
CROSS-HAIRS follow insurgents as they slip out of view.
The news ricochets around inside him like razor blades.
(03.18.14) 41.
FIVE MEN IN BALACLAVAS stand over an AMERICAN HOSTAGE in an orange jumpsuit. The thick Jihadist leader draws a machete to behead his hostage. VIDEO PAUSES.
COLONEL GRONSKI is an old-school bulldozer. 75 Marines study an OLD PHOTO OF AL-ZARQAWI, bushy black eyebrows.
FIND CHRIS in back, scanning heads for his brother Jeff.
Chris looks to Marc Lee,ten structures an hour?
The sun hangs like a blood-clot in the sky. Chris and Marc Lee are walking, TALKING LOW--
Chris reacts, hearing him describing Jeff.
(03.18.14) 42.
Maybe.
Marc walks off leaving Chris biting at a shamal wind.
AN F-18 RIPS OVERHEAD firing 500lb JDAMs into the next block. Smoke and dust billow outward--
Under a fluttering canopy, CHRIS lays on the gun, cursing zero visibility. GOAT camps nearby, on a GameBoy.
(03.18.14) 43.
Chris steals a glance at him, processing this as--
CHRIS SCOPE POV
KILO COMPANY MARINES JOG to a pink house with windows boarded up. One of the Marines looks like Jeff Kyle.
“Jeff Marine” sets a charge, turns-- not Jeff.
The door blows off. Marines rush in. GUNFIRE POPS. Marines rush back out, dragging a WOUNDED MARINE.
KILO COMPANY firing on the structure.“CPT. GILLESPIE” (smart, sunburned) is shouting “hold your fire” as--
“JEFF” MARINE Really?
“THOMPSON” (big, wobbly voice) nods, lugging an M240G.
(03.18.14) 44.
He recognizes his way to gain entry, so he plays it up.
“SANCHEZ” (neck tattoos, Catholic) chimes in.
His need to protect cloaked beneath cool cowboy calm.
KILO COMPANY are doing house-to-house. On the job training. Tension high, they’re bunched around a doorway. CHRIS motions them back,not so close, sets a charge--
BOOM!-- KILO COMPANY ENTER a house with chandeliers and regal armoires. They clear the room, CHRIS teaching them how to move together, giving hand signals.
He follows Chris into a room with sofas, exotic rugs and--
(03.18.14) 45.
THE KID is rocking on his heels like he’s going to run.
THE FATHER runs in, tall and bearded. Gillespie clocks him and he drops. The Kid screams like he’s deaf.
SANCHEZ pushes THREE WOMEN (in berkas) into the room.
A KETTLE whistles in the kitchen. Guns still trained.
(03.18.14) 46.
SHEIK AL-OBEIDI/FATHER Your enemy is mine enemy. We share this. You understand?
Chris studies the women, and lowers his gun.
TIME CUT - LATER
Chris and Gillespie sit with“SHEIK AL-OBEIDI” while the kid (“OMAR”) plays with his father’s hair.
The Marine Interpreter aka“TERP” (20s, in mismatched camo, face bandanna) repeats the question.
Sheik mumbles in Arabic, fearing the words on his tongue.
OMAR CACKLES like a crow, playing peeking games.
An F-18 rips overhead. RADIO CHATTER. THOMPSON steps out--
(03.18.14) 47.
THE BOOM of distant ordinance shakes the structure.
The Sheik grabs his wife, pulls her arm from her robe-- her hand has been hacked off, the stump healing.
Sheik stonewalling, Chris stands to go,fuck--
Sheikh Obeidi SWEEPS A HAND across his open palm,pay me.
Chris sweeps a hand across his open palm,pay me. We are--
(03.18.14) 48.
CHRIS and MARC LEE sit in front of AGENT SHEAD, of the Defense Intelligence Agency. A game of solitaire open on his computer. CORNHUSKER football posters on his wall.
Shead would rather not enter into this with them but-- he slides a white-board to reveal an AQI HIERARCHY.
THE BUTCHER is a squat, rawboned man with eyebrows forming a grizzled line over dark bloodshot eyes.
(03.18.14) 49.
He kicks his feet up, like he runs the war.
He listens a beat. His feet hit the floor. Eyes flick up.
An object thumps beneath the tires. SECURITY CONTRACTORS wear baseball caps, Oakley blades and grizzled beards.
They sit on benches opposite CHRIS and MARC LEE, a shrink- wrapped PALLET OF CASH between them. AGENT SHEAD sits closest the driver, playing big-dick with the mercs.
Chris looks to Marc Lee, eyes closed in prayer. When he opens them he sees Chris looking. The rig sways.
(03.18.14) 50.
Their laughter is liberating. It bonds them.
MORE LAUGHTER. A PHONE RINGS. Chris digs out a SAT PHONE.
WHAAP! Windshield spiders. CONTRACTOR/DRIVER’S brains spackle them. THE HUMVEE CRASHES into a storefront.
RADIATOR HISSING, CONTRACTORS SCREAMING, “Call for backup” “Capel is down” “Dump the truck, cover us.”
A crowded quad. TAYA, ON THE PHONE, stops in her tracks.
Looted shops, burnt awnings, colorful signage. MARC LEE and CHRIS pile out. THE SAT PHONE falls in the dirt.
(03.18.14) 51.
They duck into a bomb-blasted storefront. They’re looking downrange from the jagged orifice when-- A SHOT THUNKS into a painted Leo DiCaprio billboard overhead.
MUSTAFA sprawled on the balcony. PUSH past theswoosh of Nikes, up dark robes, along the cut of an unshaven cheek--
MUSTAFA SCOPE POV
UNIQUE CROSS-HAIRS wobble past CHRIS and MARC LEE’S position to CONTRACTORS SCRAMBLING SHEAD into the street. Mirage boils straight up. A breath exhales--
A BULLET SMOKES through CONTRACTOR #1, ejecting half his vertebrae. CONTRACTORS SCRAMBLING--
Agent Shead and Contractors pull away in Humvee #2.
An INSURGENT GUNNER steps from a door just uprange, BLASTING ROUNDS at the retreating vehicle.
Their cover prevents line-of-sight. Chris reaches his rifle out ADJUSTING A SIDE-MIRROR on the crashed Humvee--
UPRANGE (IN REFLECTION)
(03.18.14) 52.
THE BUTCHER drags OMAR from Sheikh Al-Obeidi’s home by his hair. The boy’s strange screams echo down the block as the Butcher revs a hand drill near his face--
TWO INSURGENTS holds Sheik Al-Obeidi in the doorway as--
A SNIPER ROUND SHATTERS the Humvee mirror.
Chris tries to edge around the wall-- PHWAAAP! The wall explodes above his head. He turns to the room. Debris blocks a back-door. No way out.
Chris tosses smoke. A haze clouds the exit--
The drill revs. Omar is screaming. Smoke spewing.
A SHOT RINGS OUT, CHUNKS CONCRETE near the exit.
They slip out the storefront, around the building--
(03.18.14) 53.
In the smoky haze, A SAT PHONE in the dirt--
TAYA listens for gunfire as the lunch crowd teems past.
CAMERA CIRCLES HER as her world comes unhinged. On the next revolution the scenery changes and--
MUSTAFA POV / FROM MINARET
CROSS-HAIRS TRACK past the doorway where--
SHEIKH AL-OBEIDI
Is held back by INSURGENT GUNMEN, weeping and pleading--
THE BUTCHER
He powers up the drill and drives it into Omar’s thigh. OMAR SCREAMS and pitches, shrieking for help--
ALLEY
Chris and Marc racing down an alley, approaching stairs--
Chris bounds up the stairs. Marc Lee keeps running--
ROOFTOP
CHRIS runs onto the exposed rooftop, running into-- A DOG SNAPS at him, BARKING and rabid, chained to a US sig M- 60. He dives away from it, crouching behind the wall.
SNIPER POV / IN MINARET
CROSS-HAIRS FIND the barking dog, then CHRIS’ BOOT.
THE BUTCHER
Powers up the drill, THE BUZZING rings over his words--
(03.18.14) 54.
He steps on Omar’s neck, lowers the drill toward his jaw.
CHRIS
Hears the drill and Omar’s screams. He’ll be exposed but-- HE POPS UP to shoot The Butcher. Before he can get set--
A SNIPER ROUND clips his helmet. He’s knocked flat-back. Clouds strobe overhead. The dog barks viciously inches from his face. Saliva flying off incisors as--
THE SHEIKH
Watches the drill enter his son’s face. The Sheikh breaks free of the Butcher’s men, running towards his son. TWO AKs shred his back and he pitches forward, reaching--
SNIPER POV
As the Butcher and his men drive away, CROSS-HAIRS track across the rooftop, where--
ROOFTOP / CHRIS POV (UPSIDE DOWN)
His helmet, ruptured like a plum, wobbles to a stop.
CHRIS
Rage animates him. He staggers to his feet, FIRING HIS M4 on the minaret until the clip expires. Then--
A FLUTTER of cloth sweeps across an alley a block north. MUSTAFA slows, rounding the corner, and glances back--
Chris draws his .45, but Mustafa slips into the shadows. Women sob over dead bodies in the street below.
TEAM THREE SEALs hold perimeter. The sheet draped over Omar is marked by a dozen blood spots. Chris is buzzing with remorse, looking to the minaret.
(03.18.14) 55.
In the distance, COLONEL GRONSKI barks at MARC LEE then climbs in a Bradley. As MARC approaches--
Wind blows the sheet off Omar.
Chris stalks the cage, shirtless and sweating. His eyes track the horizon as darkness falls on Fallujah.
Halogen spotlights illuminate tarmac. SOLDIERS emerge from darkness, pushing toward their waiting families. FIND TAYA in heels, 9 months pregnant. Chris limps toward her. She walks into his arms and STARTS SWINGING fists.
He holds her close until her rage gives way to tears.
They stand there long after everyone has gone.
(03.18.14) 56.
Taya lowers the lights, steps out of her dress and looks at herself in the mirror, 9 months pregnant, and not sure she’s sexy. Chris exits the shower, stops, staring--
She deflates and sits on the bed. He kneels before her.
He doesn’t spell it out. She slips it on his finger.
She laughs and squishes his cheeks, making faces with his face.
(03.18.14) 57.
Her face opens in ecstasy.
CHRIS, showered, shaven and ill-at-ease, picking at the calloused “shooter’s strawberries” on his elbows.
His coffee steams like smoke off a barrel.
A lawn-mower starts. His eyes track windows. Taya sees what’s happening and-- she extends a naked leg into his sight line. His eyes follow her leg, to welcoming eyes.
She eases into his lap, changing his chemistry.
A room doused in sunshine. TAYA lays on the table. DOCTOR HOFFSTADER works the ultra-sound wand over her belly.
(03.18.14) 58.
Chris pets his wife’s hair but he’s sweaty and flushed.
Hoffstader studies him, reaches for a b.p. cuff.
He awkwardly consents. The cuff tightens.
(03.18.14) 59.
He’s smiling but his tone quiets her. She overstepped.
CHRIS is weaving through rush-hour traffic.
She looks pained, ready to cry--
She’s arching in the seat, MOANING as her water breaks.
(03.18.14) 60.
Chris swerves from the SOUTHBOUND FAST-LANE across the dirt median and into the NORTHBOUND FAST-LANE.
Dust kicks up. Horns blare. He’s speeding north.
A look between them like spilled sunlight. He reaches and-
Taya grips his hand. Her WAILING SCREAMS fall silent and--
Taya stares blankly at Chris. He thinks he lost her. Then-- A SMALL CRY breaks the tension. Taya gasps.
THE BOY lands in Chris’ arms covered in vernix and blood.
He holds him to the light and relief pours over him.
He holds his family close as BEDOUIN MUSIC SWELLS--
A THERMAL IMAGE. Cross-hairs on MARINES emerging from tall grass. A SHOT FIRED. A MARINE FALLS. An Arabic sickle & sword appears over the image. We are--
(03.18.14) 61.
PAN ACROSS an Iraqi parcel on the coffee table. FIND CHRIS staring at the TV, livid, lit by Christmas lights.
Chris lunges for the remote as another KILL SHOT PLAYS.
He looks up at her, holding Colton.
He lightens, touching her, eyes drifting back to the TV.
Chris nods, it was him.
His blood pressure pulses on his unyielding face..
(03.18.14) 62.
Her eyes trail off him as she steps into the kitchen.
Chris holds his son, taken with his ruddy innocence. Then the BEDOUIN MUSIC swells, his arms tighten around his son, and his eyes are drawn back to Mustafa.
“SECOND TOUR”
The tail of a C-17 draws down. YOUNG MARINES file off leaving CHRIS, squinting into a dirty sunset as he tucks his ring away like he’s stowing part of himself.
Chris is following him toward a Blackhawk when--
Chris is already striding across the tarmac toward--
A SQUAD OF MARINES
Loading onto a C-17 weary, injured, heading home. JEFF KYLE doesn’t see Chris until he has hands on him.
Chris shakes him and pulls him into his arms.
Jeff is slow to react, like he can’t see past the atrocity branded on back of his eyeballs.
(03.18.14) 63.
He looks him over, undamaged but for the eyes.
Marines on-board the C-17. Jeff is anxious, shifting--
Chris fixes Jeff’s collar: a tender gesture.
The four massive turbo-engines on the C-17 kick-on.
He can’t hear shit over those fans.
(03.18.14) 64.
Chris ignites with rage at what they did to his brother.
LT. COLONEL JONES is a clear-eyed Ivy grad: the new- school leadership changing of the guard.
The Blackhawk lifts off, ZOOMING across the desert floor.
He hands over an AQI BOUNTY POSTER with an illustration of a SNIPER RIFLE and GALLIC CROSS and a reward.
Chris rolls his sleeve, showing his Gallic Cross tattoo.
(03.18.14) 65.
As they cross the Euphrates the SLUMS OF RAMADI are laid out before them like a blanket of chaos.
CHRIS stands in front of Team Three, armed with a 60-inch monitor and a TuffBook. They’re chanting, “Power-point.”
They’re cracking up. He turns to see his slide has been hijacked with A PHOTO OF HIS BACHELOR PARTY; the “best men” pose with a spray-painted groom. They look so young.
Chris turns back to his men and, for a moment, their smiling faces appear immortal in the feeble light.
TIME FADE
Brief finished, TEAM THREE file out past Chris--
--grabbing ass and cracking jokes until one remains.
(03.18.14) 66.
Marc adopts his zeal, letting it fill him.
He bangs out. Chris is alone. Lightning in his bones.
Neon shimmers across wet empty streets. TEAM THREE trundle past shops largely unbombed. TONY checks his GPS--
(03.18.14) 67.
TEAM THREE push to a door. Biggles has a cat-claw, ready to breach-- A BABY CRIES behind the door. Chris waves them off. Another door.
BIGGLES is ready to wedge the cat-claw when he sees keys hanging from the door. He grins and simply opens it--
A modest apartment. TEAM THREE have seated the family; A PROTECTIVE FATHER hugs his BOY(6) as his WIFE frets.
TERP TRANSLATES, showing a PHOTO OF THE BUTCHER.
LOOKING OUT WINDOW
The RESTAURANT BELOW is boarded up with painted metal.
“D” Why a restaurant?
Marc turns away, leaving them to wonder.
Biggles watches Chris collapse onto his ruck-sack.
(03.18.14) 68.
A challenging smile. Chris flips him off.
“D” Got some nice rugs up in here. (thumbs up to Father) This shit is hand-knotted. Beautiful.
Surveillance rolling, Chris closes his eyes.
In darkness, CHRIS bolts upright then sees his guys by the window. He joins them. Despite rolling blackouts, light is visible around plywood on Fahima Halal windows.
ON DIGI-CAMERA, ZOOMS ON PHOTO of The Butcher entering--
(03.18.14) 69.
Chris snaps Biggles down, wrestles him into a choke.
“D” Myth becomes Legend when we occupy a house, get 23 kills, and 21 are his.
Chris releases him. Biggles is coughing.
Biggles is flipping him off when the FATHER SPEAKS:
Chris nods dubious gratitude, meeting the Father’s eyes.
DINING ROOM - LATER
A braised head of lamb eaten clean. TEAM 3 are chowing down, in good spirits, as Chris watches THE FATHER teach his SON to read. He is moved by their connection and acutely aware of what this war is costing him.
That’s when he sees--(ECU) “SHOOTERS STRAWBERRIES” on father’s elbows. They’re red and calloused, like his own.
Chris darkens, stands and slips down the hall--
BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
(03.18.14) 70.
CHRIS searches the closet, ripping through clothes, pressing wall panels. He’s crossing to the bed when--
FLOORBOARDS CREAK beneath the rug underfoot. He stands there, shifting his weight, floor creaking.
DINING ROOM/HALLWAY
BIGGLES is shoveling food in his mouth when a hand stops him. Chris signals, no more. FATHER’S eyes flick up as--
CHRIS RIPS THE FATHER out of his chair, dragging him down the hall by his hair. WIFE and KIDS screaming. “D” holds them off as-- Chris dumps the father at a STASH HOLE in the floor. Inside, a CACHE OF AKs, RPGs, IED components.
The Terp translates. Father reacts, pale with defiance.
THE FATHER shuffles up the dusty street toward us--
“D” (VO) Approaching the door...
IN ADJACENT ALLEY
CHRIS, MARC LEE and “D” waiting...
“D” 10 meters...
(03.18.14) 71.
BACK ALLEY
TONY and BIGGLES watching...
“D” (VO) 5 meters...
SNIPERS NEST
DAUBER watches with cross-hairs.
“D” (VO) He’s knocking...
AT THE DOOR
A sliding grate opens and--
“D” (VO) They’re vetting him.
GUARD’S POV
FATHER attempts to alert the Guard, nodding to the TWO MEN in robes at the oil drum. Guard doesn’t see it--
“D” Hold. Hold--
CHRIS POV (N/V)
As the door opens, the GUARD comes into view--
“D” (OS) Now.
Chris fires and the GUARD’S HEAD explodes. FATHER dives for Guard’s weapon, FIRING BACK at Chris when--
GUNFIRE FROM INSIDE shreds him. He folds forward, dead.
TWO MEN in robes (TONY & BIGGLES) rush the door tossing grenades, pulling the father out as the GRENADES EXPLODE.
CHRIS, MARC LEE and “D” push inside--
A smoky banquet hall. GUNFIRE lights from far wall. A man we recognize as THE BUTCHER is ushered through a doorway.
(03.18.14) 72.
IN THE ALLEY
TONY and BIGGLES are posted in the alley, waiting.
BANQUET HALL
CHRIS and COMPANY push through the doorway the Butcher passed through, but it’s not an exit. It is--
KITCHEN
An IRAQI MAN is hung up by a chain, the majority of his skin carved off, still alive. A walk-in freezer ahead.
Stairs lead down into darkness. Chris follows him into--
AN UNDERGROUND TUNNEL
A naked bulb illuminates a tunnel stretching to darkness.
THE TUNNEL DETONATES. Dirt and debris explode at them.
BACK ALLEY
BIGGLES and TONY are posted up. The RADIO STATIC--
BEHIND THEM
TEN INSURGENTS pour out of another building, circling back toward Biggles and Tony.
(03.18.14) 73.
KITCHEN
CHRIS and MARC LEE bowl in, panicked, covered in dirt.
“D” turns from a WALK-IN FREEZER full of bloody parts.
“D” Big freezers. (sickened, following) Fuck--
SNIPER NEST
DAUBER SEES INSURGENTS approaching Biggles--
He starts downing them but more seep out downrange.
BACK ALLEY
BIGGLES and TONY are banging away but outgunned when CHRIS, MARC LEE and “D” steps out, laying down fire.
Biggles is slaying combatants. Precise and deadly.
AN RPG burns down the alley, screaming between them and EXPLODES INTO SNIPER NEST. As dust clouds the night--
THE BUTCHER
Slips through smoke, shooting his way to a getaway truck.
MORE INSURGENTS, push up the alley, covering him.
(03.18.14) 74.
SNIPER NEST
Dauber struggles from under debris.
CHRIS
Advancing along the wall. The Butcher jumps into a truck.
Biggles side-steps into the street, attracting fire, downing MULTIPLE INSURGENTS as--
Chris dodges behind him, running into the next street (parallel with truck) hoping for a shot--
NEXT INTERSECTION
As Chris arrives, the GETAWAY TRUCK roars past a block to the north. He continues at a dead-sprint but--
At next intersection, he’s lost more ground. He halts, sucking wind, GALLIC CROSS TATTOO visible on his forearm.
ABOVE (LOOKING OUT)
A YOUNG SHADOW stands in the window, watching the soldier below. She picks up an old Nokia Cellular, dialing--
Incense wafts over oiled components of a DRAGUNOV SNIPER RIFLE laid out on a prayer rug. A CELL BUZZES and is answered. A few words and-- HANDS ENTER FRAME, assembling the rifle. The metallic snap-and-slide escalating as we--
PAN TO the wall, the GALLIC CROSS depicted beside a sniper rifle on a faded CHRIS KYLE BOUNTY POSTER there.
TIRE FIRES spit tendrils of black smoke. We are--
(03.18.14) 75.
A four way intersection, neighbors pouring into streets. An angry crowd hoists the FATHER’S BODY in the air as a MESSIANIC TRIBAL LEADER riles them with chants. THE SON stands up-front, small hands fisted, glaring at CHRIS.
THE CROWD growing in tension and number.
As they roar off, Chris pulls Terp over to the TRIBAL LEADER whose SHOCKING GREEN EYES reflect firelight.
DISTANT ALLEY
A flutter of robes. A rusty gate pushed open by an OLD MAN. Mustafa slips past, brushing the man’s shoulder in thanks. Breath in cadence with step, his head turns up--
Smoke plumes into night, their signal leading him ahead.
CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER
Terp translates, Tribal Leader responds violently--
(03.18.14) 76.
A crowd of 300 chanting, as Terp translates.
ALLEY
TWO MEN stand by a 12 foot wall. A dark shape sprints toward them. One man kneels, the other braces him. The reflective swoosh catches light as--
Mustafa runs up the man’s back, leaping onto the wall.
CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER
Tribal Leader rages, crowd at his back, eyes on fire--
Venom peels across Chris’ face and makes it appear true. A Nike swoosh reflects from a near rooftop.
NEARBY ROOFTOP
Nikes cross gravel. Mustafa kneels. Unfolds his bi-pod.
CHRIS/TRIBAL LEADER
MUSTAFA SCOPE POV
CROSS-HAIRS TRACK past smoke blown sideways, trash gusting-- FIND CHRIS as he turns for the Humvee. Cross- hairs leading him, compensating for windage.
As he pauses his exhale-- THE FATHER’S BODY is hoisted in the air. Mustafa tries to adjust as his SHOT RINGS OUT--
(03.18.14) 77.
THE ROUND HITS the shield. BIGGLES fires at the rooftop. Bullets strafing night as the Humvee door closes and they roar off. A PUNISHER SKULL drawn in grease on his shield, gleams in the moonlight. Mustafa’s shot struck the Punisher in the eye. PUSH ON the teeth of the logo and--
CHRIS’ LONG FINGERS pressed to the glass. SFX: his breath rattles quietly over following scenes. We are--
CHRIS stares into the nursery window where his NEWBORN DAUGHTER CRIES. The air thick and dreamlike around him.
TWO NURSES walk past his daughter. Chris bangs on the glass, trying to get their attention.
He pounds the glass. The nurses don’t hear him. SFX: THE MECHANISTIC BUZZ of power-tools overwhelms the scene--
PAN ACROSS GUMBALL MACHINES and TOY DISPENSERS on the wall. The POWER TOOLS whining as COLTON(3) holds a toy, pissed it’s not the one he wanted.
(03.18.14) 78.
THE DRILL BUZZES in the garage. Chris’ nerves fraying.
Colton melts to the floor crying. CUSTOMERS looking now.
THROUGH VIEWING WINDOW-- THE MAN with the drill is visible. Dark hair like The Butcher, turning toward us--
MAN’S VOICE (OC) Excuse me, sir.
A YOUNG MAN steps too close. Chris rears up, defensive.
YOUNG MAN/VETERAN Yes, sir. My name is Mads. We were trapped in a house when you showed up with 1st Marines. You carried me out.
(03.18.14) 79.
MADS/YOUNG VETERAN Great, sir. I’m grateful to be alive. It hasn’t been easy but--
He lifts his pant-leg and shows an ARTIFICIAL LEG.
DRILL STARTS UP again. Chris glances that direction.
Chris nods like he never will. Mads kneels to Colton.
Colton looks up at his dad who swells with emotion. OTHER CUSTOMERS watching now, captivated.
Mads stands and comes to attention, saluting Chris.
Chris bites back emotion, nods, and walks out.
(03.18.14) 80.
A pink cocoon of a room. Taya sits in a rocker, breast- feeding their daughter, MCKENNA. She’s gentle, imploring--
Taya pulls McKenna off her breast. Chris scoops her up.
A long pause...
He looks up and POV CHRIS--Taya sits in her rocker on the side of a ROAD IN RAMADI, destruction all around her.
SCORE BUILDS, a steely guitar over tribal drums.
“THIRD TOUR”
A TRUCK speeds past a burnt rocker in the street. We are--
PUNISHER SKULL stenciled on flack jacket, CHRIS mans a suspended MK48 swinging where a passenger seat should be. A skull bandanna and sunglasses cover his grizzled face.
The Punishers--
(03.18.14) 81.
BIGGLES DRIVES, trailing a BROWN VAN. The city goes from light to shadow as they enter a built-up section called--
THE CHINESE APARTMENTS
They’re laughing, off the leash, cocky and invincible.
A BLOCK BACK - HUMVEE FOLLOWS
MARC LEE drives. “D” rides shotgun. DAUBER in back. Uniforms bastardized; metal blasting in broad daylight.
(03.18.14) 82.
“D” (keys mike, checking GPS) Half a block back and we are wet and ready, Big Giggles.
“D” As long as you cook and clean.
DAUBER sits in back, shaking his head.
UNDERCOVER TRUCK
STREET SPOTTERS reach for their cell phones. Chris glares at them, ominous in skull mask, flipping the bird.
ON A ROOFTOP
A BAREFOOT TEENAGER races across gravel, aims a RIFLE down at the taxi with The Punisher symbol--
UNDERCOVER TRUCK
A ROUND pierces the roof and goes through the floorboard--
(03.18.14) 83.
SIX INSURGENTS pop up on a rooftop, firing. Chris leans into the .60 spitting lead in pneumatic bursts.
A dry hand spins a SNIPER ROUND on a tabletop. It wobbles to a stop facing the man who set it in motion-- MUSTAFA, head-on. A messy beard and thousand-yard stare. Haunted but unrelenting, he spins the round again.
An IRAQI WOMAN appears, shushing an infant. She says something to Mustafa but he doesn’t respond. A phone vibrates. He grabs a duffel and steps out. By the door, A PHOTO OF MUSTAFA on a medal stand at the Olympic Games.
Biggles speeds after the van, taking fire from above.
Biggles stomps the accelerator, whips around a corner--
A SHORT STRAIGHTAWAY
COURIER bounds out of the van, diving into a building.
They roll out in pursuit. The Humvee pulls up. Inside--
“D” (into mike) --need a two block perimeter around the area. No one gets in or out.
(03.18.14) 84.
MUSTAFA crosses rooftop-to-rooftop with fluency.
BLOOD DROPLETS lead to a door. Biggles kicks-in.
Biggles and Chris dance around each other like smoke.
An open window. Stairs climb the wall outside.
THE VAN
DAUBER and TONY cover MARC LEE and “D” as they open the back of the van. Inside, flats of RED CLAY TILES.
“D” The Butcher is building a 7-11?
Marc rips off the top layer, finds: 200,000 ROUNDS AMMO.
ROOFTOP
Drying sheets billow on crisscrossing wires. Chris tracks blood-drops to the ledge. The next roof 15 feet off.
Two stories below, COURIER lays face down in his mess.
(03.18.14) 85.
Chris pulls his mask down. He has a beard and the sturm und drang of war are writ loud on his face.
DISTANT BALUSTRADE
MUSTAFA lays prone, mumbles a prayer and takes two deep breaths before putting his eye to the scope.
MUSTAFA SCOPE POV
CROSS-HAIRS TACK to fluttering sheets, the wind revealed in their billow. TWO FIGURES are cloaked there, indistinguishable heads peaking over laundry lines.
He aims left-and-above the head closest to him.
ON THE ROOF
Chris and Biggles stand among the billowing sheets.
Chris is laughing when he sees a FLASH OF GLASS in the distance. Before he can utter a warning--
A GUNSHOT SOUNDS
The bullet flays the muzzle of Biggles M4. Shrapnel enters his face. Biggles goes down in a red mist--
The right side of his face is a pulpy cavity. His eye socket obliterated. He appears mortally wounded.
(03.18.14) 86.
He drags him one way, then another. He can’t see past the blood-spackled sheets. A SHOT pocks the roof at his feet.
ANOTHER SHOT inches from his head. They are being hunted.
Biggles pulls himself up, tilting his head forward to not choke on his own blood. With heroic effort, he stumbles to the stairs. Chris, stunned he’s alive, ducks an arm--
TWO MARINE UNITS provide cover as the Humvee speeds off.
MARC LEE drives. DAUBER applies gauze to hold Biggles face on. CHRIS kneels there, holding his hand.
Chris looks to Dauber--
Dauber shakes his head,he’s not going to make it.
(03.18.14) 87.
His body goes into shock. Chris comes unwound.
LOW ANGLE- plywood floor littered with needles, blood and latex gloves. A cart is rushed past. MEDICAL PERSONNEL shouting, “we’re losing him.” The picture pulses, blurs--
THE PUNISHERS stand around the Humvee, still as a photo.
“D” Did you see where it came from?
A jeep pulls up. COLONEL JONES and MASTER CHIEF MARTIN step out.
Chris turns away, choked up.
“D” Fuck!
The sun high.
(03.18.14) 88.
The wind blows.
They all agree.
METALLICA, “Master of Puppets” blasts as an M1A2 ABRAMS TANK speeds 45 mph down a street, bad as fuck. TWO BRADLEY TRANSPORT vehicles follow.
A CAR pulls into the road ahead. INSURGENT PASSENGER leans out, FIRING AN RPG. It explodes across the tank but does no damage. Tank still coming, Insurgents pull away--
But the tank catches them. Treads climbing the back of the car, overtaking it. INSURGENTS are trying to get out, screaming, as steel folds around them and flattens them.
And the ABRAMS vaults off the other side--
THE PUNISHERS. Ears pinned back. Metal blasting. Amp’d to kill. FIND CHRIS consumed by rage; he pulls the BIBLE and AMERICAN FLAG out and sets them aside.This is personal.
He glances at Chris, feeding off him. They all are.
IN THE STREET
The tank skids to a stop. The turret spins to a castle- like structure and BA-BOOM!
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THE PUNISHERS pour out of their Bradleys, rolling in both directions, arcing toward the point of entry--
THE COURTYARD
Punishers pour in. FOUR INSURGENTS lay dead, dispatched by the tank. Zero resistance.
DAUBER and TONY follow them up a crumbled staircase--
LONG HALLWAY
Ominously still. Sunlight spills through grated windows facing the street. Chris and Marc move to the first door--
FIRST ROOM
A sleeping mat. A TV plays an Al Jazeeri game show. Marc pushes toward the bathroom, coming around the corner---
BATHROOM
The faucet runs on a straight-razor.
FIRST ROOM
MARC steps back in, golden dust motes float around him.
CANON-FIRE HITS the outer-hallway from across the street. Brrrrrb-Brrrrb!! Rounds banging with seismic force.
TIME SLOWS as Chris bounds toward the door. Marc Lee gets there first, steps through it, into--
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LONG HALLWAY
GUNFIRE RAINS through grated windows. The hall is coming apart in dusty chunks of plaster.
DAUBER and TONY are pinned between windows. MARC LEE steps to the nearest window to lay suppressive fire.
GUNFIRE STRAFES IN AT AN ANGLE, HITTING MARC LEE IN HIS OPEN MOUTH. HE’S BLOWN BACKWARDS, HITTING THE WALL AND--
MARC LEE is down. Blood pooling. A forever stare.
CHRIS is staggered but his training takes over and he steps into the same window, BLASTING FIRE.
DAUBER is trying to intubate Marc but the back of his head is gone. He was dead before he hit the wall.
THE ABRAMS TURRET SPINS. THE CANON BOOMS. THE EARTH TREMBLES AS THE BUILDING ACROSS THE STREET IS FLATTENED--
The trembling is the turbulence. We are--
In dim red-glow, FIND BIGGLES in a tented gurney, stable but critical; his head caved in. CHRIS stares ahead--
MARC LEE’S MOM (VO) “Glory is something some men chase and others find themselves stumbling upon.”
REVERSE TO MARC LEE’S CASKET draped in stars and stripes.
A pasture of tombstones overlook the Pacific. CHRIS, with a chest-full of medals, stands with TAYA, COLTON(4) and MCKENNA(2). TAYA watches MARC’S WIFE weep as--
MARC LEE’S MOM reads his LAST LETTER HOME:
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MARC’S LEE MOM ”My question is when does glory fade away and become a wrongful crusade?”
CHRIS HEARS MARC’S VOICE:
COLTON reaches for his father’s hand. Chris jumps, startled. He looks at Colton, then Taya. He’s caught with his guard down and it appears he may let them in...
But he quickly returns his gaze to the flagged casket.
CLOSE ON CASKET
NAVY SEALS bang their Tridents into the coffin. A hollow thump, like fists trying to revive a heart.
San Diego traffic. THE KIDS chatter in back. CHRIS drives, in a fugue-state when he spots--
A BROWN VAN, four cars back, same as the one in Ramadi.
VAN ROARS up the turning lane. It’s pulling alongside them. Chris grips the wheel, ready-- the van roars past
The kids grow quiet. The air sucked from the car.
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Taya turns away, wrecked. They drive in silence.
TV lights the dark room. NEWS GRAPHIC: “Americans killed in Iraq: 3932”. CHRIS and TAYA talk to the ceiling.
His detachment is unearthly.
It startles him and he seems suddenly alert to her suffering. He reaches for her, holding her to his chest.
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Her eyes sink into a well of ruin.
A DUST MOTH flutters around the wall sconce. Wilted flowers and “get-well” cards cover the windowsill.
BIGGLES lays in bed. Part of his head caved-in and badly marred, one eyelid open on a milky-white eyeball.
Chris sounds upbeat but his eyes betray him.
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Biggles laughs and tears roll from his vacant eye.
There is a pause.
Biggles grows quiet.
His mind made up. Biggles moved by it.
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75 Marines packed in. CHRIS hobbles up the isle like Achilles. His import draws the attention of soldiers he passes. He settles into a seat. Across from him--
Chris removes his wedding band, hangs it from his necklace.
His reserve silences the Lieutenant. ENGINES ROAR as--
“FOURTH TOUR”
This base feels like a remote outpost. CHRIS and “D” walk past a boneyard of charred vehicles.
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“D” We been shot off position three nights in a row. Fallujah was bad, Ramadi was worse but this shit is fuckin biblical.
“D” Squirrel cycled out. Dauber was coming back but his wife knocked him up. And if I bring home another rug my old lady’ll murder my ass. Teams and shit.
“D” (a beat) That Biggles news hit hard.
“D” (stops walking) Bro... Biggles is gone. He was in surgery yesterday and he died on the table.
Chris stares at him, ruined, waiting for him to take it back. SFX: A PHONE RINGS thousands of miles away as--
CHRIS SCOPE POV
CROSS-HAIRS track along Jamila street, past cranes assembling the T-wall that will stretch across the city.
The phone stops ringing, VOICEMAIL picks up.
A car pulls into an intersection, ominous in inactivity. Dust blows sideways off its halted tires.
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The car disappears down a side-street. CROSS-HAIRS linger at that spot, knowing the routine.
AN INSURGENT darts out, flips the sight-finder on an RPG. Mirage boils off the street, same as dust, 45 degrees.
CROSS-HAIRS compensate left for windage. A SHOT RINGS OUT. Red mist. CROSS-HAIRS scan the sector, they won’t leave an RPG. Finally, ANOTHER FIGURE runs out--
A YOUNG KID
No older than Colton. He grabs the RPG, shoulders it. CROSS-HAIRS zero on him, center-mass. SFX: Chris’ heartbeat bangs like a 800lb hammer.Not again.
CROSS-HAIRS tremor as Chris’ hands start to shake.
Young Kid takes aims and-- suddenly discards the RPG in the street and runs off.
CHRIS
He rolls off the gun, gasping for air, biting back tears. After nearly a decade of war he’s finally breaking down.
Wind batters the tent. A squad of 16 SPEC OPS GUYS from different branches study a map with--
Every man looks to the back wall where Chris stands.
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“D” The sniper who shot our boy Biggles.
That’s a warning. Ranger One backs off.
Chris nods, eyes ablaze. Martin points to a map, south of the wall is green, north of wall is red.
Storm winds blast the tent flap open--
A Stryker rumbles out, headed across the desert floor.
CHRIS sits up front, eyes drawn to an OLD MERCEDES speeding across the desert toward them. A train of dust plumes behind it. As the vehicles pass--(ECU) TWO IRAQI MEN in the Mercedes hide their faces behind keffiyehs.
Chris whips around in his seat but can’t look back.
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MARINE GATE-GUARD studies the approaching OLD MERCEDES.
Guards roll out, guns up. Mercedes skids to a stop outside the serpentine barriers. Dust blooms from it.
INSIDE MERCEDES
TWO IRAQI MEN eye the guards. THE DRIVER mutters something to the passenger and pops the trunk--
GUARD POST
GUARDS, lit with urgency, react as-- BOTH MEN STEP OUT of the Mercedes, hands in air, circling toward the trunk.
GATE GUARD #2 (FIRES WARNING SHOT) --move for the trunk you will be shot.
GUARDS POV
THE TWO IRAQI MEN duck behind the trunk. After a painfully long moment, they reemerge with--
They drop A MAN BOUND in blood-smeared plastic. GUARDS BARKING orders. THE DRIVER unwinds his scarf to reveal--
He waits for response. Guns stay on him. The wind howls.
CLOSE ON BUTCHER
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Beaten to within an inch of his life. Bloody plastic suffocates his mouth as he tries to inhale.
The Stryker speeds up a side-street into insurgent territory (north of wall). Next street over, PACKS OF INSURGENTS push south, toward the construction site.
Stryker slows. Boots hit dirt, silently slipping into--
PUSH UPSIDE a five story building. Bombed-out walls reveal conveyors and fruit lockers inside.
ROOFTOP
An open rooftop, RANGER ONE is concealed under a vent as INSURGENTS pass in droves in the street below.
Across the roof, “D” on a .50 BMG looking at the MILE- WIDE SANDSTORM pushing toward Baghdad.
“D” Enter the fuckin sandman.
CHRIS
3rd floor. In a fruit locker. Breath racing. Hands tremoring. Electricity coursing through him.
Gun pointed north, Chris searches nearby buildings for the sniper. PUSH BEHIND HIM, SIX-BLOCKS SOUTH to--
T-WALL
A CRANE lowers a T-block. ARMY ENGINEERS guide it in.
ENEMY CROSS-HAIRS ENTER FRAME (REVERSE ANGLE)
ARMY ENGINEERS in the street signal success and ANOTHER ENGINEER scurries up the neck of the crane to release the chain. The cross-hairs track the MOVING ENGINEER and--
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BOOM! A shot echoes across the landscape and TOPPLES THE ENGINEER from the crane. He lands dead in the street.
CHRIS
Hears it, pulls off the gun, looking behind him.
Chris repositions himself, FACING SOUTH-- he lowers his eye to glass, bleeding sweat, aiming toward Baghdad.
CHRIS SCOPE POV (BOTH EYES VIEW)
CROSS-HAIRS track to distant rooftops. Everything wobbles and fumes. Trash blows, fronds sway, curtains flap, mirage boils-- all gusting different directions.
Almost by accident, he lands on an IMPOSSIBLY SMALL SHAPE. Person? A bag of trash? Or nothing at all. As small as a pepper-flake inside the radius of his scope.
He twitches and wobbles off-target by a city block.
“D” (OS) He’s right, Legend. No bueno.
CROSS-HAIRS tracking back, measuring between mil- reticals, calculating for distance. Back on target:
“D” That’s a mile. Impossible shot.
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ENEMY SNIPER HIDE
THE SNIPER is covered in a black Hefty bag disguising his presentation, and identity. Ready to kill again.
“D” (OS) Can you confirm it’s him.
ON CHRIS
Trying to breathe it down,please god, breathe it down--
Chris scoops dust off the floor and watches with his off- eye, as it blows off his palm and plumes outward.
“D” It’s your call, Chris.
SNIPER SCOPE POV
CROSS-HAIRS track to the cluster of MARINE ENGINEERS.
CHRIS’ SCOPE POV
CROSS-HAIRS wobble on the dark shape a mile away.
“D” (OS) If you got it, take it.
We zero-in on a small fold on that black bag. SFX: A LOW FREQUENCY BUZZ escalates as concentration deepens.
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CLOSE ON SNIPER
Face obscured, a PRAYER HISSES from his bearded mouth.
CLOSE ON CHRIS
Both eyes open, a PRAYER WHISPERS across his lips.
CLOSE ON SNIPER/CLOSE ON CHRIS
SFX: Thump-thump....Thump-BAM!
Chris fires first. The shot echoes across eternity. One, two, three seconds later. A red-mist paints the wind.
THE SNIPER tumbles off his platform and out of view.
The world rushing back in, he hears INSURGENTS below.
STREET BELOW FACTORY
INSURGENTS point up at the building, yelling, rushing in--
ROOFTOP
Chris bangs onto the roof, shaken, joining a 6 MAN SQUAD.
“D” Mission accomplished. Biggles be proud.
A look between them, fully aware of what comes next.
SIDE VIEW (FACTORY)
INSURGENTS clear the second floor, bounding toward--
ROOFTOP
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CHRIS and Squad set-up firing stations.
Muted nods all around. Footsteps coming.This is it.
“D” If you FNGs shit your pants, don’t stop shooting. Scoop and shoot. Scoop and--
GUNFIRE POPS behind them. MARINE GUNNER lights it up.
OPPOSITE DOOR bangs open across the roof. Chris hammers the INSURGENT but he keeps coming, drugged up. TWO MORE roll out behind him, on the same glue.
This is close-quarter contact, visceral and savage.
IN THE STREET
INSURGENTS enter surrounding buildings in droves.
ROOFTOP
Wind kicking up. Ammo running out. Insurgents keep coming. Worst environment imaginable.
“D” Drop motherfucker! Drop!
CHRIS laces bad guys. Pure brutality. They fall at his feet. Tracers light from the next roof.
“D” 3 o’clock. Loading. Last mag.
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INSURGENTS use rebar to cross from a nearby rooftop. Two ways just became three. They’re swarming them.
Hand-to-hand chaos. A bad way to die.
“D” Call it in. Light us up.
Chris wields his .45, spackled with blood--
RADIO GOES STATIC, he nods,it’s done.
INSURGENTS crossing the gap. Chris pivots--
DRONE FOOTAGE of Chris on the roof of the Banana Factory. Surrounding streets are filled with bad guys. We are--
Wind battling tent. MASTER CHIEF MARTIN stands over a NAVY DISPATCH OPERATOR, staring at the footage.
DISPATCH OPERATOR looks up, realizing what’s happening.
PILOT looks to his wing as STINGER MISSILES engage.
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ON THE ROOFTOP
TWO DOZEN insurgents surround them on the rooftop. CHRIS waits till a guy gets right up on him and-- BAM!
“D” You’re up--
“D” trades the SATELLITE PHONE for Chris’ Springfield.
In their exchange, an unspoken goodbye. Then--
Chris struggles to dial, hands shaking. IT RINGS. He squints north. RINGS AGAIN. F-18 rocketing toward him--
Chris is stunned. She answered. He’s speechless.
Wind howls. F-18 closing.
She starts crying. The F-18 almost upon them.
F-18 seconds out. Chris looks up and sees--
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THE SANDSTORM
Has shifted. A tsunami of dirt is about to swallow them.
F-18 RAPTOR
THE PILOT flying into the storm. Sensors screaming. He can’t hold his line. 4, 3, 2-- He pulls up early.
ROOFTOP
HELLFIRE MISSILES scream over the Banana factory and EXPLODE INTO the next building. Fire and dirt engulf them. The blast recedes but the sand-storm escalates.
He leads “D”, RANGER ONE and FOUR OTHERS across the roof. They stumble past INSURGENTS, blinded by sand.
STREET BELOW
CHRIS and SQUAD stagger into HOWLING CHAOS, clinging to each other, trailing Chris as GUNFIRE POPS behind them.
AN INSURGENT is blown right into them. “D” wrestles his gun away and beats him with it.
They run for their lives. Unable to see two feet ahead. Sand shredding their skin. Chris is struggling--
Squad passing him. Knees failing him. He can’t keep up.
THE GUNNER stares at REMOTE WEAPONS SCREEN when SIX FIGURES EMERGE from the dust. He’s about to fire--
The ramp drops. STORM HOWLING. RANGER-ONE dives in, MARINES follow, then “D” rolls in. The rig pulls off.
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“D” Where’s Chris? He was just--
IN THE STREET
Chris falters forward. Insurgents pursuing. The Stryker just visible ahead-- pulling away.
IN THE STRYKER
M2 GUNNER can’t see shit on his monitor.
“D” --stop the rig, man! Stop--
IN THE STREET
Chris is ten feet behind the rig, sprinting. Bullets sing past. He sheds flack-jacket and webbing, Bible and flag. He drops his gun in the dirt and dives. His hand clutches the last rung of slat-armor and--
Chris Kyle is dragged off the battlefield.
IN THE STREET
Sand buries the METALLIC TOY SOLDIER that followed him since childhood. Wind whips pages of the Bible and pulls at the flag until it flaps unfolded. WE’RE BLOWN AWAY with it, twisting and clapping into an otherworldy beige.
IN THE STORM
We catch glimpses of the city below: graffiti’d T-walls, a cracked expanse of desert floor and the lanky body of an enemy sniper splayed across a rooftop.
Wind rips the Hefty bag away and sand pocks the DEAD FACE OF MUSTAFA-- before we’re swept up into the howling rage.
LONG FADE:
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CHRIS sits hunched at the bar, his eyes track patrons and staff (ECU) their hands, torsos, eyes. HIS PHONE RINGS.
He can HEAR THE KIDS in the background.
He nods silently, listens to his kids.
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CLOSE ON- the back of Chris’ head. He watches a WAR MOVIE on TV. As CAMERA CIRCLES the room, we glimpseTHE MOVIE; an injured soldier calls for help amid shocking gunfire.
TRACKING BEHIND THE TV, we see Chris’ wrought face and a household bustling around him. COLTON carries party plates outside, MCKENNA fights to get cowboy boots on and-
TAYA CALLS to him from the kitchen but we can’t hear her until the CAMERA TRACKS to HER POV-- the gunfire is gone, the TV IS OFF. That war movie is playing in his head.
He finally looks up, slick with sweat, affecting calm.
Streamers twist against gunmetal sky. COLTON and MCKENNA set up birthday decorations. The family dog, A PYRENEES SHEEPDOG, bounds about. TAYA AND CHRIS, on back steps.
Chris looks past his kids, looking a thousand yards out.
His head falls. When he looks up--
COLTON’S BIRTHDAY PARTY UNDERWAY
6 YEAR OLDS and PARENTS mill around but all WE HEAR--
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COLTON AND TWO FRIENDS chase each other around the yard.
THE SHEEPDOG jumps on the back of COLTON’S FRIEND. The boy goes down hard, gets up crying, running from the dog.
The Sheepdog does it again. THE BOY FALLS AND HIS CRYING is cuts into scene. THE BOY’S MOM runs over. His back clawed up.
BOY’S MOM Get him off! Get away--
Chris rips the dog off by its collar. The dog snaps at him and in an instant he whips out his .45 to shoot it.
Chris looks up, bent with animus, and he’s looking at the face of his children, their friends, and their parents--
They look at him, terrified. He releases the dog. Lost.
Harsh light. Water-stained walls. CHRIS looks beaten, afraid and dubious of this BUTTONED-DOWN DOCTOR.
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CHRIS steps to a window looking in on TEN YOUNG VETERANS sitting around a TV; wounded, edgy, in need. A legless Marine with a jelly-roll face looks up; this is“WYNN”.
CHRIS kneels before WYNN (wheelchair) who’s armed with a
Gun on shoulder, Chris is calm, he’s found peace. BAM!
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Chris dusts himself off. There’s healing here.
Chris squints into the falling sun and time passes with--
LONG FADE:
The black F350 roars past a “Welcome to Texas” sign on the interstate.
A residential neighborhood. Texas flags wave from stoops. CHRIS and COLTON carry boxes inside. “MAX THE SHEEPDOG” bounds along with them and never leaves Chris’ side.
BEDROOM
Chris enters to find Taya has placed his old COWBOY BOOTS at the foot of the bed. He takes a seat and looks down at the combat boots on his feet. He bends to unlace them--
A pale Stallion gallops through prairie grass. Chris and McKenna admire it from a rustic fence. Her pink cowboys boots kick Texas dust onto his old boots.
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Chris is showering when Taya sneaks in and flushes the toilet. He howls at the scalding water and she’s laughing, rushing for the door when-- he lunges out and grabs her, pulling her in with all her clothes on.
Under a watercolor dawn, CHRIS leads COLTON across a prairie, hunting rifle on shoulder, teaching as they go. THE SCORE BUILDS and follows them into morning.
Dust motes drift across blades of light falling through blinds onto CHRIS. He wears the BELT BUCKLE he won long ago, pleated Levis, and twirls an antique six-shooter.
TAYA is at the window gazing at their kids in the yard.
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She crosses to him, running a hand up his leg.
He kisses her, lifting her--
He sways with her, dancing a little two-step.
COLTON and McKENNA race in, hugging on their dad.
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McKENNA pokes Chris and he BARKS like a dog.
She pokes him again and Chris emits a RUMBLING ROAR. She giggles and hugs him so he’ll save her.
He kisses his daughter and tosses his son’s hair.
Chris kisses Taya and lingers, worshiping her. Dust motes drift past and he appears immortal in the bladed light.
Then--
He walks out the door for the last time. The house grows quiet. Colton plays video games. McKenna colors. The dog lays by the door. And Taya stands in the golden light.
FADE TO BLACK:
OUT OF BLACK:
Rain falls to Randy Travis singingAmazing Grace.
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ACTUAL FOOTAGE: A funeral procession appears over a distant ridge. Police escorts lead a white hearse and 300 vehicles down a highway lined with people waving flags.
The last car finally passes. An UNKNOWN CIVILIAN stands alone in a muddy field saluting a fallen hero.
CUT TO BLACK.