The Hurt Locker
By
Mark Boal
June 7, 2007
Shooting Draft
BLACK SCREEN
Arabic man YELLING over a bull-horn.
TITLE:
The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug. - Chris Hedges
The loud BUZZ of an electric engine and the CRUNCHING of wheels traversing rough terrain. Then SIRENS, HORNS, SHOUTS.
As the din intensifies, the quote recedes.
FADE IN:
A grainy, low-resolution view of a dusty dirt road. We’re low, just inches off the sun-washed ground, and moving fast.
ZOOMING down a street littered with the refuse of war: spent munitions, rubber bits, animal waste -- all of which, from this odd, jarring perspective, looks gigantic, monstrous.
We approach a crumpled COKE CAN, the white ‘C’ growing enormous on the screen, filling the screen like a skyscraper, SMASH into the can and barrel ahead.
A RAG flutters, blocks our view, then flies away as we pop over a bump, catching air and a flash of the horizon line, BRIGHT SUN, then landing hard and continue zipping down the dusty road.
A rushed, disorderly evacuation. Iraqi POLICE and SOLDIERS herd civilians away from some unseen danger.
INTERCUT:
A remote controlled TALON ROBOT (about a quarter million dollars of military-grade bomb squad electronics, aka ‘the bot’) whose SMALL VIDEO CAMERA we have been watching, drives down the side of the road on a pair of treads.
Across the street, an Iraqi BUTCHER wearing a bloody white smock resists being moved from his outdoor stand, which consists of little more than goat carcasses hung on metal hooks.
From all sides, American military arrive in armored TROOP CARRIERS, disgorging teams of U.S. ARMY INFANTRY SOLDIERS who shout “secure the area’, ‘watch your six,’ ‘stop traffic’, etc.
TITLE:
BAGHDAD, 2004
This is all taking place in a densely populated, very noisy section of Baghdad; the SOUND of far off GUNSHOTS and CALL to prayer magnify the turmoil of a metropolis in the midst of an occupation/insurgency/civil war.
The BUTCHER, furious with the way he’s being pushed around, is forcibly removed from his shop by several IRAQI SOLDIERS.
Via the low-angle video camera we glimpse a herd of GOATS scampering through frame. BURKA-clad WOMEN and OLD MEN in traditional garb flee the scene.
Several more U.S. INFANTRY SOLDIERS move a few straggler PEDESTRIANS away from a trash pile and the TALON ROBOT.
View momentarily blocked by STATIC INTERFERENCE.
But when the screen clears, we close in on one particular TRASH PILE topped with a white plastic garbage bag.
Whatever it is that has everyone so afraid lies inside this bag.
The TALON ROBOT pokes around the bag and the trash pile with its mechanical VISE GRIP.
UPRANGE
Next to a parked Humvee, THREE EOD (Explosive Ordnance Disposal, aka Bomb Squad) SOLDIERS crouch over a laptop computer screen showing an image of the TRASH PILE.
Working the joystick on the laptop is SERGEANT J. T. SANBORN, a type-A jock, high school football star, cocky, outgoing, ready with a smile and quick with a joke... or, if you prefer, a jab to the chin. Think Muhammad Ali with a rifle.
DOWNRANGE
The robot grinds the dirt, edging closer to the bag.
UPRANGE
Standing near Sanborn, SERGEANT FIRST CLASS MATT THOMPSON wipes the sweat on his brow. Although he’s the team leader, every inch the professional soldier working a routine mission, Thompson’s normally rock-solid nerves are wavering in the punishing desert heat.
While nibbling on a SNICKERS candy bar, Thompson glances over his shoulder noting potential threats: a WOMAN in a VEIL and then TWO MALES in a window - all of whom are watching him with inscrutable expressions.
Thompson turns back to Sanborn and the task at hand:
LAPTOP SCREEN
We glide across the pile. Flies buzzing.
Puffs of dust and fluttering plastic.
Advancing slowly, inch by inch, to the edge for our first glimpse inside the bag:
A RUSTY ARTILLERY SHELL WITH A WIRE PROTRUDING FROM THE NOSE CONE.
UPRANGE
Zoom in on the nose cone of the shell.
A THIRD SOLDIER, clearly enjoying the two men he’s with, leans in for a better look. This is SPECIALIST OWEN ELDRIDGE, the youngest of the group, impressionable, vulnerable, yet quite capable of showing surprising backbone.
They change places. Thompson now on the controls. They can see protruding from the rusty shell the tell-tale wire of an Improvised Explosive Device (IED).
Eldridge is already on it, approaching with the four blocks of C4 plastic explosive. He’s done this enough to know what they need.
Thompson takes stock of the situation. We see the IED in the distance -- far, far away.
DOWNRANGE NEAR PLASTIC BAG
The bot dutifully makes its return voyage back to the men.
ACROSS THE STREET
A crowd of angry pedestrians is being held in place by a few Iraqi soldiers, but when one soldier turns aside to help an old man, the cantankerous BUTCHER slips past and dashes back to his store.
UPRANGE
Eldridge clips a make-shift wagon to a hitch on the rear of the robot. Inside the wagon, he’s placed an array of C4. Sanborn asks “ready?,” Eldridge replies “good to go.”
The bot returns downrange, towing the cart and a coil of unspooling detonation wire, which Eldridge is holding.
When...
the HERD of GOATS from earlier circles back and momentarily impedes the robot.
DOWNRANGE
The robot churns down the now empty street.
UPRANGE
Thompson scans his surroundings, finds a third IRAQI MALE watching him from a nearby balcony.
A flicker of concern flashes across his face.
DOWNRANGE
The robot hits a bump and a rock jams in the wagon’s wheel and breaks the lock nut, popping the wheel and causing the whole rig to grind to a halt.
UPRANGE
Everyone cringes.
DOWNRANGE
The wagon is stranded.
UPRANGE
Sanborn wiggles the stick. It’s not happening.
Thompson ruefully tosses his helmet into the truck.
Sanborn unpacks “THE SUIT.” A state-of-the-art contraption that looks like an astronaut suit and helmet crossed with the Michelin Man. Because of its weight and complexity it takes two men to put it on - or one Sanborn.
Sanborn kneels down and guides Thompson’s feet into the suit’s black boots, then lashes up a series of Velcro straps to secure the armor, like a squire working on a knight.
Thompson twists to get his chest protector on. Eyes tight, brow furrowed, squints into the far distance. That’s going to be a mean motherfucker.
Sanborn seals Thompson’s helmet with a glass plate while Eldridge attaches a breathing hose.
Thompson begins the lonely walk toward the bomb.
Sanborn checks on the TWO IRAQI males in the balcony by glassing them with his M4 scope.
SCOPE POV
The men are smiling. Low threat.
DOWNRANGE
Constrained by the eighty-pound suit, sweat in his eyes, Thompson LUMBERS down the road, emitting dust clouds with every step.
UPRANGE - HUMVEE
An excited, blustering YOUNG IRAQI MALE, having just exited a nearby building, approaches Sanborn with his hand extended in greeting:
Sanborn shakes his head, raises his rifle.
The young man maintains a nervous grin.
Now they are standing close to each other.
Sanborn shoves the young man in the chest hard enough to nearly knock him over.
The man skulks away, offended and confused.
Eldridge -- who is about thirty feet away and inspecting a burned out car -- notices this interaction out of the corner of his eye and keys his walkie to Sanborn:
DOWNRANGE
Thompson walks on.
The desert sun glints off a nearby car and momentarily bleaches his mask bright white.
A YOUNG GIRL with an INFANT BABY in her arms appears in a far off doorway, then withdraws out of sight.
UPRANGE
Eldridge and Sanborn are at the ready, scanning the area and watching Thompson.
DOWNRANGE
Thompson: careful footfalls on sand.
UPRANGE
Sanborn wearily keys the walkie.
Eldridge nods. Everything progressing nice and easy.
DOWNRANGE NEAR PLASTIC BAG
Thompson stands over the blasting caps, picks them up and heads for the bomb.
Thompson carefully lays the C4 on top of the IED.
Thompson gets up, looks around at the empty road under heavy guard.
The war has stopped for him and he knows it.
Thompson begins to walk back uprange, looking carefully at the ground around him.
UPRANGE
Sanborn and Eldridge lower their rifles.
DOWNRANGE NEAR PLASTIC BAG
Thompson carefully nudges a Coke can out of the way of his boots.
UPRANGE
Eldridge, killing time, turns to Sanborn as they both watch Thompson.
Looking around the war torn dirt street, the mud colored buildings, and endless expanse of dust and sand. Nothing but brown on brown.
Eldridge squints into the sun.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement in the butcher shop and raises his carbine.
SCOPE POV
The BUTCHER is holding a cell phone.
UPRANGE
Eldridge runs toward the butcher shop.
Sanborn raises his scope but Eldridge is blocking his line of fire and he can’t get a shot.
The BUTCHER nods and puts up his hand as if to say, ‘give me a minute.’
DOWNRANGE
Thompson senses trouble:
UPRANGE
Eldridge runs hard
Sanborn bolts sideways, trying to maneuver around Eldridge to a clear sight line--
SANBORN ELDRIDGE
(shouting to Eldridge) PUT DOWN THE CELL PHONE! Burn him! Eldridge burn him!
Eldridge, legs pumping, flicks the rifle safety--
BUTCHER SHOP
The Butcher smiles. Gives Eldridge the thumbs up sign.
His other handing dials the phone.
UPRANGE
Sanborn sprinting but still can’t find a shooting angle.
Eldridge is on fire:
ELDRIDGE SANBORN
DROP THE PHONE!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY -- BURN
HIM!!
DOWNRANGE
Now Thompson starts to run. Terror in his eyes.
ELDRIDGE SCOPE POV
Prevented from locking aim on the butcher by two telephone polls.
BUTCHER SHOP
The Butcher smiles back at Eldridge
ECU: the Butcher’s eyes.
ECU: his thumb on send button of the cell phone.
DOWNRANGE
Thompson running full out now when
BOOM!! --
-- A giant billowing fireball bursts from the bomb
-- flattening Thompson
-- blood splatters the inside of his helmet. Then:
-- a secondary explosion erupts
-- spewing dust and a wave of particulate matter
-- enveloping Eldridge and Sanbornin a coarse cloud of debris.
-- we stay on the blast’s aftermath as the last dustroils out in slow motion and
-- floats silently over Thompson’s slain body
An officious young MORTUARY AFFAIRS SOLDIER opens the wooden lid of a very white large box.
Inside, wrapped in plastic, are the remains of a soldier’s life: a pair of boots, a toothbrush, a comb, an American flag.
Sanborn stares. Struggling to find meaning in the objects.
Now we see that he’s standing in a large warehouse, the mortuary affairs office, which is filled with rows and rows of many other identical white boxes.
Sanborn gently places Thompson’s dog tags in the box.
The white box closes. Latches secure the lid.
And that’s that. The soldier walks away.
Sanborn grips the box. He does not let go.
Sanborn trudges across a camp clearing which is bounded by the barracks and rows of identical aluminum trailers.
Inside a darkened standard-issue military trailer Ministry is BLASTING, rattling the walls.
Sanborn knocks on the door, hears “yeah, it’s open, come in,” and steps inside.
He’s greeted by a MAN holding a roofing hammer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. This is SERGEANT FIRST CLASS WILLIAM JAMES, his new boss.
Sanborn extends his hand and they shake.
An awkward silence ensues allowing us to get a better look at James. Though a former U.S. Army Ranger in his early thirties, fit and good-looking, one of the lucky ones, he possesses an unusual demeanor. In a world of outgoing young men, James seems markedly self-absorbed. Sanborn notices this trait instantly and is puzzled by it. The truth is that after so many years down range, racking up kills and disarming bombs, James has lost some of the ability and most of the need to connect to other people.
Right now, however, James is doing his best to act like a regular nice guy.
James jerks his head to a window covered with a board of plywood. He walks over to it and starts removing the wood, motioning for Sanborn to grab one end of the board.
Although Sanborn is almost warming to his new Sergeant, James has reached his intimacy limit.
He cranks the music, grabs his still-burning cigarette, and flops down on the bed -- all in one surprisingly fluid motion.
Then announces cheerfully:
Sanborn is behind the wheel. James is in the passenger seat. Eldridge is in the back seat.
Looking through the Humvee window, we drive past a long line of M1 Abrams battle tanks. They’re neatly parked and gathering sand on all horizontal surfaces.
James shrugs this off:
The Humvee moves out of the base and into the outskirts of the teeming city.
TITLE:
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY’S ROTATION: 38
The Humvee edges close to a cluster of cars. Eldridge moves up to the gunner’s seat on top of the Humvee.
Eldridge has a collection of half-empty water bottles that he keeps in the gunner’s nest.
He throws a water bottle at the car in front of him.
It smashes into the car’s rear windshield.
A passenger inside spins, enraged. He sees the Humvee. Settles for a one finger salute for the American.
The Humvee grinds to a stop in a ghetto overflowing with trash, with more mud dwellings that look as beaten down as the people.
James is first out, lighting another cigarette.
Sanborn comes up behind him. Eldridge climbs out of the turret.
They are now completely out in the open, feet on Iraqi ground, where anything can happen.
Eldridge begins turning suspicious bits of plastic over with the tip of his boots.
James walks on down the street.
Sanborn and Eldridge exchange a glance ‘what the hell,’ and follow him.
Meanwhile, in the background, Iraqi civilians go about their daily life.
James, Sanborn and Eldridge continue their slow walk down the street.
Around a corner, an empty Humvee comes into view.
On the other side of the street, Sanborn rounds the corner, approaching the Humvee. He shouts in case someone is inside.
But there is nobody to hear him. The truck is empty.
Eldridge looks inside the vehicle, checking for blood.
James sees a tiny American flag being waved in the window of a nearby building, and heads over to it.
EXT/INT BAGHDAD BUILDING DAY
James peers into a garden where a half dozen young SOLDIERS are resting and trying not to look afraid, and one SERGEANT CARTER is trying not to look embarrassed.
He moves into the open and points down the block.
Sanborn is already unloading the robot.
James grins. Sanborn shoots Eldridge a look.Is he a new guy or what?
Sanborn and Eldridge kneel before James, buckling on the suit.
Sanborn puts the helmet on.
Now enclosed in the suit, James is ready to go.
James heads downrange, a jaunty bounce to his step.
In stark contrast to Thompson’s cautious, lumbering gait, he seems eager, almost happy, to approach the bomb.
The guys watch him go.
Without warning, James tosses a round metal canister, a smoke grenade, into the middle of the street.
ECU: canister jets explode, propelling a billowing cloud of gray smoke.
Sanborn looks on in confusion as the dense smoke fills the street, obscuring his view of James.
No answer. James disappears into the smoke.
No answer.
No answer.
Sanborn can no longer see James through the smoke.
He climbs up on top of the Humvee to get a better look. But he gets only a partial view.
Eldridge leaps onto a nearby narrow stone wall, feet precariously balanced.
We see the world from James’ point of view: the city takes on an intense, dreamy hue as ifsomehow we’re in some sort of fugue state.
James walks on and the world returns to normal as he nears an intersection guarded on either side by a HUMVEE and several SOLDIERS, when...
Suddenly a red-and-white TAXI swerves past the SOLDIERS on the left side of the intersection.
The soldiers take cover and shout contradictory commands - “Stop the car” “Get Down Don’t Move! Back up! Out of the vehicle!”
The TAXI BRAKES in front of James.
Sanborn and Eldridge can hear the shouting but the lingering smoke still obscures their sight.
James’ headset barks to life:
James pulls a pistol from his holster, aims it at the car...
SOLDIER
JAMES
DRIVER’S FACE
Impossible to discern whether he’s simply an annoyed taxi driver -- or a Jihadi on a suicide mission.
James aims at the windshield. The driver is impassive.
Soldiers shout, “get out of the car!”
James SHOOTS two rounds into the dirt near the car’s front tire.
The Driver remains still. Staring back.
James gestures with the pistol.
James FIRES --
-- smashing the windshield into a million shards of glass.
But the car doesn’t budge.
Now James jams his gun into the driver’s forehead.
SOLDIER
JAMES
The driver slowly shifts into reverse and eases the taxi back to the soldiers.
Soldiers rush the car, yank the driver out and pound him roughly to the ground.
The taxi driver is zip tied and dragged away.
DOWNRANGE
James resumes his walk, noting possible threats -- a MAN in a window down the road, TWO KIDS in another window.
One of a million in this city. James draws near. Two wires protrude from the mess.
Moment of decision.
Moving quickly, James removes rubble and trash to expose the wires and the artillery shells.
He kneels down into the rubble pile. Touches the bomb.
Then with great care, he removes the blasting cap from the bomb, making sure that it doesn’t make contact with the metal edges of the artillery shell.
He cuts one wire leading to the blasting cap.
Then he flips the artillery round over and cuts the other wire.
UPRANGE
Eldridge jumps from the wall.
DOWNRANGE
James stands and uses his big boot to clear more rubble, revealing: Another wire snakingout of the ground.
James traces this wire, pulling it out of the ground, inch by inch, like extracting a buried root.
The more he pulls, the more wire gets revealed.
It doesn’t seem to end.
BALCONY
Overhead, a YOUNG FACTORY WORKER on a high balcony studies James as he unearths the wire.
James, still pulling the wire, comes to a length that ends in a bundle of wires that spider out in several different directions.
He pulls on this bundle and unearths a second IED.
Then he finds a third IED.
Then a fourth bomb.
Then realizes he’s surrounded by a ring of IEDs.
This is the daisy-chain. One of the deadlier forms of IEDs.
UPRANGE
Soldiers scrambling to find concrete to hide behind.
BALCONY
The factory worker leaves his position and heads down the stairs.
We follow him walking down the stairs, intercut with:
James working on the bombs individually.
ECU: James' helmet - glass clouding over from condensation-- losing visibility.
ECU: blasting cap
ECU: feet on stairs
ECU: knife tip separates the wire.
The factory worker is now on a landing, still heading down.
James notices the worker coming down and quickens his pace.
The worker matches James’ accelerated movements, and is now rushing down the stairs.
The worker reaches the bottom of the stairs, opens the building’s front door, and steps into the street.
He looks at James.
James shows him the last blasting cap, indicating that the bombs have all been rendered safe.
The worker reveals nothing.
He turns and steps down an alley. As he goes he drops a 9- volt battery.
We find a WIRE TERMINAL attached to the alley wall, where on a different day the battery would have been connected to initiate the bomb.
James strides uprange. Eldridge isn’t sure what to make of James. Sanborn is, but not ready to show it.
Sanborn unstraps the Velcro on James’ bomb suit, yanking roughly. This gets James attention.
Sanborn stands face-to-face with James.
James pats Sanborn on the shoulder, moves to the Humvee for a Marlborough.
Sanborn and Eldridge confer out of ear-shot.
PRELAP:
Electronic GRUNTS of a first-person shooter video game.
In a small recreation area, Eldridge, on a couch, plays Gears of War on a flat screen TV.
LT. COL. JOHN CAMBRIDGE, a combat stress therapist, enters.
Eldridge picks up his M4 rifle, which had been resting on the couch, and puts his finger on the trigger.
Finger back on safe. He dry fires again.
Midday in Iraq. The heat is oppressive, biblical.
James is walking around the base when he’s stopped by a young Iraqi KID selling pirated DVDs.
The kid, whose name is BECKHAM, is a street savvy punk.
James pays. Offers a cigarette.
Sanborn is shaving in a mirror, otherwise dressed for combat and ready to go.
James shuffles in wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts, looking like he just woke up.
James starts to brush his teeth.
Sanborn wipes his face, trying to stay calm, notices a tatoo on James’ forearm.
James grins.
The men drive into a parking lot teeming with people on the run, hundreds of UN EMPLOYEES, mostly white, many dressed in business suits, flee the United Nations building.
Parked beside the building is a blue sedan.
TITLE OVER:
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY’S ROTATION: 37
The Humvee passes through a roadblock, stops, and James gets out to talk to an IRAQI SERGEANT.
Due to his current position in the parking lot, James can’t see the blue sedan that everyone is running from.
James now dressed in the bomb suit walks beside the Humvee towards the blue sedan.
Workers continue to stream out of the building, hurrying faster down a flight of stairs when they see James in the bomb suit.
James comes to within twenty feet of the blue sedan. He stops.
BALCONY
On a third-floor balcony, unseen by the soldiers, a INSURGENT SNIPER takes aim.
SEDAN
-- a SHOT rings out
-- bullet strikes the car
-- it bursts into flames
-- a plume of flame rushes out from the gas tank, like a blowtorch
-- we see the flames through James’ helmet.
“It’s coming from over here”, shout INFANTRY on the grounds outside the building as they FIRE M4s at the sniper’s balcony.
Their bullets hit concrete, missing the sniper. A TEAM of SOLDIERS charges inside the building.
SEDAN
James backs away from the fire, toward Sanborn who is now running toward him with a fire extinguisher. Eldridge follows just behind Sanborn.
Sanborn passes James a fire-extinguisher to James.
It takes Sanborn an instant to process the insult: top cover, in this case, is the junior man’s job.
Shaking his head, Sanborn runs to the building.
Eldridge positions himself at the top of a staircase, hunkered down behind a low concrete wall.
JAMES
James sprays the extinguisher into the roaring fire. Flames lick his suit.
SANBORN
Sanborn pounds up a long flight of stairs.
JAMES
Gaining control of the fire.
SANBORN
Charges through the rooftop door and runs to the edge of the roof.
JAMES
The fire is nearly out, the car a smoking ruin, dusted with white fire retardant powder.
SANBORN
At the edge of the roof, looking down over James and Eldridge.
James stops. He’s done. The fire is out.
He looks up at Sanborn, nods.
Then he wipes the car’s blackened window and looks inside for the bad news.
SANBORN
Scans his surrounding, noting potential threats in every direction.
A salty officer, COLONEL REED, whose uniform shimmers with military bling and Army skill patches, crosses the street to a spot where an Army medic is treating the now badly wounded SNIPER.
Other SOLDIERS in Reed’s troop stand nearby.
The Colonel turns away. Soldiers crowd around the MEDIC, blocking our view.
We HEAR TWO SHOTS, killing the sniper -
ROOF
The shots echo on the roof. Sanborn spins. Looks down to James.
James tries to use a crow bar to pry open the trunk but that fails.
So he kicks the trunk with the bar, smashing it, until finally it squeaks open, revealing...
a trunk full of South African 155 rounds, linked with det cord.
James is so taken aback that he drops the crowbar.
Then he pulls the bomb suit’s quick release tab. The bomb suit falls away.
Then he takes off his helmet.
James passes the helmet to Eldridge.
Sanborn stares down at James and the car. Great.
Eldridge runs to get the equipment, while James finishes removing his suit.
Sanborn watches all this.
Across the street, a young IRAQI MAN with a consumer VIDEO CAMERA is also watching. He goes unnoticed.
Eldridge returns with the kit, hands it to James. James approaches the car and shines his flashlight into the trunk.
Smoke. Wires. Bombs.
He snips a wire.
SANBORN
Nods, feeling vulnerable and exposed on the roof.
JAMES
James gets into the back seat, presses the upholstery.
He rips the upholstery with his knife. Tearing out foam. But no wires.
Sanborn sees a YOUNG MAN on a balcony at 9 o’clock and waves to him while slightly raising his rife.
The boy waves back.
Below, Eldridge raises his hand “roger that” - understood - and nervously scans the surrounding buildings.
James in the front seat now rips apart the door, rips the weather stripping to just bare metal.
Sanborn keeps moving to avoid being a static target. Not liking this.
Eldridge now notices the MAN on a roof-top his 12 o’clock, holding the video camera.
JAMES
Jabbing his knife into the upholstery.
Eldridge raises his rifle, motions for the man to leave.
The man ignores him, keeps filming.
Eldridge flips.
Sanborn jogs over to the side of the roof where he can now see the MAN that Eldridge is referring to.
Eldridge lifting his gun.
Off Eldridge’s panic:
JAMES
Ripping wires in the car, increasingly frustrated, sotto voice “more wires going nowhere.”
More and more, FACES are appearing in the windows around Sanborn and Eldridge.
James ignores this. He’s in a flow state, the athlete totally focused on the game.
He retraces what’s left of the wire yet again. Thinking.
James ignores him.
James throws his headset walkie talkie out of the car.
It lands with a rattle on the ground.
Sanborn sees below a SOLDIER helping an older woman out of the building. The soldier looks up to Sanborn and gives him a thumbs up sign.
SEDAN
James pulls out the car radio.
Suddenly --
The car’s rain wipers SCREECH and flap across the windshield.
ROOF
PARKING LOT
ROOF
James raises his hand and gives Eldridge the middle-finger ‘fuck-you’.
Sanborn is pacing now, like a caged lion.
He notices three MEN at a minaret behind him and waves to them.
James keeps working. He gets out, checks under the hood of the car. Traces the wires there.
SEDAN
James pulls a wire. The windshield wipers stop their horrible screeching.
He goes back inside the car, checking under the steering wheel.
The angry MAN in the minaret that didn’t wave is now joined by two other MEN, and they begin to point to Sanborn, and then down to James and Eldridge.
They wave to the VIDEO CAMERA MAN. He waves back to them.
Eldridge stands.
Eldridge crouches back down. Not sure what’s right or wrong anymore.
James ignores Eldridge and continues to work. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for under a tangle of wires: a black box.
Slowly prying off the lid, taking it apart.
Then he throws the black box. It goes flying out of the car.
James gets out. Shouts to Eldridge.
He picks up his headset, waves to Sanborn to come down off the roof.
Sanborn bangs open the door to the staircase.
James is flushed, red, sweat dripping as he approaches the Humvee, a big satisfied grin on his face.
Sanborn, furious, charges him.
James gets inside the vehicle, lights up a cigarette.
Sanborn leans into the window.
Sanborn JABS him in the jaw, knocking the cigarette out.
Sanborn stalks off and James explodes out of the car.
He crouches down, searching the floor of the Humvee. Sees his cigarette, cleans it off, then goes back to his smoke.
Once again, calm as can be, looking at Sanborn, considering him.
As James puffs away, watching Sanborn, two HUMVEE’s drive down the ramp to the parking area of the building.
Several soldiers exit, among them is COLONEL REED. SOLDIERS trot along beside him.
The Colonel strides up to Eldridge.
James comes around.
The Colonel spins his head around to an aide.
James, sitting on a bench under a camo net, grabs a smoke and inspects a circuit board.
A soccer ball rolls beside him.
James picks it up. The DVD kid, Beckham, comes up to retrieve the ball.
The boy’s chutzpa amuses James. He’s starting to like this kid.
James gets up. Motions for the kid to give him space.
The boy runs to a makeshift goal post. James prepares to kick
He kicks the ball in Beckham’s direction and it flies up but Beckham blocks it easily. He’s very skillful.
Beckham comes back over to James, ball in hand, and notices the bomb patch on James’ uniform.
James is surprised by the question. Not sure how to reply.
James affectionately puts the kid in a headlock.
Eldridge is repairing something near the under carriage of the HUMVEE when the psychiatrist approaches.
Eldridge considers this.
We’re at the south end of an EXPLOSIVES DISPOSAL RANGE, nicknamed, ‘Purgatory’ -- an empty expanse of dirt pockmarked with craters.
TITLE OVER:
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY’S ROTATION: 17
BOOM!!!
A tremendous EXPLOSION, by far the largest we’ve seen yet, kicks out a mushroom cloud of debris.
We move across the field with the cloud and settle where our EOD team is positioned by their Humvee.
Sanborn has a remote detonator in his hand and is about to trigger it a second time.
James cheerfully interrupts --
James jumps into the Humvee and drives down range, reversing the course we just took.
It’s a long way to the explosives, at least half a mile.
Sanborn and Eldridge watch him recede in the distance.
James is a tiny figure ambling around the explosives pile.
Sanborn looks down at the detonator in his hand. Eldridge notices the look.
Sanborn stares at Eldridge. Dead serious.
They look downrange at the their leader/tormentor.
He’s recovered his gloves. He’s celebrating that fact by pumping his fists in the air.
INT/ EXT HUMVEE DAY
Find the Humvee driving across the desert void. Driving and driving.
Outside, horizon of sand and sun.
Inside, shell-shocked men.
The Humvee crests a hill and comes in range of a HEAVILY ARMED MAN/face wrapped in a KEFFYIEH/nationality unclear, who is waving an AK-47.
Behind him are four additional ARMED MEN of uncertain nationality, as well as a large, disabled SUV.
In the turret, Eldridge fingers the trigger of his .50 machine gun.
ELDRIDGE SANBORN
(shouting below) Roger that. 12 o’clock. I see an SUV. I got four armed men. They’re in Haji gear.
JAMES SANBORN
Careful now, guys. (to James)
We’re in it now.
The keffiyeh-clad man stops waving his arms, and walks towards the HUMVEE. Sanborn brakes.
James and Sanborn charge out of the vehicle, blood boiling, guns high, yelling: DROP YOUR FUCKING GUNS! HANDS UP! ON YOUR KNEES!
The keffiyeh man does not comply. Instead, he shouts a reply that is drowned out by the desert wind.
Sanborn continues shouting orders: GET DOWN NOW! ON YOUR KNEES MOTHERFUCKER! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!
Finally, the keffiyeh man nods to his men, who lower their prodigious weapons.
Then he takes his own piece...and carefully unsnaps it from the shoulder sling.
He kneels and interlaces his hands on his head.
As James and Eldridge provide cover, Sanborn rushes forward, shaking with adrenaline, M4 darting back and forth.
When he’s close, Sanborn notices a pistol still strapped to the man’s leg.
Sanborn reaches for his pistol. It catches in the holster, then comes free.
Slowly unfurling his Keffiyeh...
Until we see that he’s not at all Arabic but just a darkly tanned, bearded Anglo-Saxon: a former member of the British SAS turned MERCENARY TEAM LEADER -- who at this moment is feeling pretty sick of American yahoos.
They walk back to the contractor’s vehicle, where two ENEMY PRISONERS OF WAR (EPWs, or so we assume), shrouded in black hoods, hands bound, are kneeling uncomfortably on the desert floor.
A moment of calm:
FEISAL crouches by the SUV’s flat tire, twisting a wrench.
A second mercenary - call him JIMMY - gives a drink of water to the two bound and hooded EPWs.
The two remaining mercenaries, CHRIS and CHARLIE, quietly stand guard around the perimeter of the SUV.
Sanborn relieves his bladder on an innocent sand dune.
James and Eldridge are hanging out with the MERCENARY TEAM LEADER. He’s bragging about his two high-value prisoners, who appear in a DECK of MOST WANTED PLAYING CARDS.
James, mildly impressed, notices that Feisal is having an issue with the tire wrench.
JAMES MERCENARY TEAM LEADER
Need a little help there? What’s the problem with the
tire? Why the delay?
Feisal walks to the EOD HUMVEE.
Feisal returns with a new wrench, when...
--A BULLET RIPS INTO HIS BACK
--FLATTENING HIM INSTANTLY
--THE MERCENARIES AND SOLDIERS ALL BEGIN SHOOTING TOWARDS THEIR LEFT HAND SIDE, UNLEASHING A BARRAGE OF INDISCRIMINATE GUNFIRE INTO THE DESERT
--ANOTHER BULLET ZIPS BY, NARROWLY MISSING ONE OF THE CONTRACTORS.
Bedlam: as the firing continues on all sides, the mercenaries scramble for supplies and ammunition in their SUV, following the commands of their leader who shouts “Jimmy get the go- bags,” “Charlie, grab the Barrett”, “Chris take the fifty”, “into the ravine”, etc.
CHRIS leaps into the HUMVEE turret and sprays bullets in all directions.
The soldiers dash for cover into
a nearby ravine, and continue firing indiscriminately
HUMVEE
Chris makes the big gun smoke.
Spent brass spins red hot out of the barrel and large caliber bullets pound the desert.
But there is no enemy in sight.
RAVINE
SUV
In the confusion, the two hooded prisoners rise up and run blindly into the desert.
RAVINE
Seeing that his valuable prisoners are escaping, the TEAM LEADER shouts:
With that, the TEAM LEADER brazenly dashes into the open in order to get an angle on the fleeing prisoners and as bullets snap around him he shoots the prisoners in the back.
Then he bolts to the ravine, very pleased with himself:
Chris in the turret of the Humvee keeps firing the machine gun in all directions.
EXT/INT DEEP RAVINE
As the shooting continues, the Mercenary Team Leader scrambles up one side of the ravine.
[referring to a .50 caliber tripod-mounted sniper rifle]
The Mercenary Team Leader hoists this heavy gun to the edge of the ravine and looks down the scope.
Jimmy crawls next to him with a spotting scope in hand.
Chris is still working the machine gun, expending hundreds of bullets a minute.
EXT/INT DEEP RAVINE
The Mercenary Leader says to Jimmy:
Chris ceases fire for a moment and takes his finger off the trigger. Silence while he keys his walkie.
-- A bullet strikes him in the neck, killing him instantly.
EXT/INT DEEP RAVINE
The mercenary team leader deflates. He rests his chin on the rifle.
Everyone else in the ravine ceases firing as the futility of their situation sinks in.
SCOPE POV
Scanning the barren landscape. Gravel and sun. No enemy, not a living soul in sight.
Then...a structure...a one-story building, in the far distance.
RAVINE
SCOPE POV
Heat shimmers.
Then...on the roof of the building...slight movement.
Possibly, it’s a MAN lying prone. Possibly, it’s two MEN.
RAVINE
The mercenary team leader concentrates his aim. He fires.
BUILDING
A pause while the bullet closes the gap - then SMASHES into the building’s side, tearing apart bricks and mortar.
The figures on the roof, if they are men, have certainly gone unharmed.
RAVINE
He jostles the heavy sniper rifle forward a few inches.
Inside the building, an INSURGENT SNIPER team peers at the ridge-ravine complex where the mercenaries and soldiers have taken cover.
SNIPER POV
The wispy form of the two mercenaries lying on the ridge can be faintly seen.
The sniper’s muzzle FLASHES.
RIDGE
The mercenary team leader hoists himself up into a low crawl only to --
--take the bullet square in the chest
--spinning him off the ridge
-- face first into the ravine
-- his back a pulped and bloody mess from the exit wound.
RAVINE
Jimmy jumps down from the ridge to check for a pulse.
Now the men plummet into a full-bore panic and everyone starts talking at once.
SANBORN JAMES
I’ll get on the Barret. Go, go.
ELDRIDGE JAMES
No Sanborn don’t do that. Go, go. Stay low.
OLDER CONTRACTOR DISPATCH (O.S.)
(into radio) ) Roger that, Alpha Nine. Go This is Alpha Nine. We’re in ahead. deep shit. We’re taking incoming fire.
RIDGE
Sanborn crawls to the Barrett, followed by James, who takes Jimmy’s spotting scope. Effectively, our soldiers have replaced the first sniping team.
RAVINE
Off his despair:
RIDGE
Sanborn prepares to shoot at the men in the building.
Sanborn squeezes the trigger. The muzzle flashes.
SCOPE POV
A bullet strikes the left side of the house. Another miss.
RIDGE
Sanborn squeezes the trigger... only to hear the METALLIC CLICK of an empty chamber.
RAVINE
Eldridge frantically searches a few nearby backpacks.
RIDGE
RAVINE
Eldridge flips over the body of the slain contractor. His chest is pulped.
Nestled in the gore are several .50 magazines. Eldridge grabs them with shaky hands and passes them up to James.
RIDGE
James passes the ammo to Sanborn. He slams it into the receiver.
Sanborn pulls the trigger. Click.
ECU: Hand cycling the weapon. Finger pulling trigger. Bolt catching, jammed.
Sanborn removes the clip and hands it back to James who hands it back down to Eldridge in the ravine, instructing him:
Eldridge takes the magazine and rubs the top bullet to no good effect, for the dust on his hands sticks to the blood and the blood sticks to the bullet.
He rubs harder, only making it dirtier.
James peers down and realizes that Eldridge is lost.
Eldridge tries to spit on the bullets.
His mouth is too dry to produce salvia.
He tries again. Nothing.
James sees his escalating despair and slides down the ridge, coming next to Eldridge.
James squeezes the nipple of Eldridge’s Camel and directs the water to drip on the bullets. It sort of works.
Sitting side by side now, they rub away the grime and polish the bullets to a bright shine.
James takes the clean bullets and climbs back to the ridge, telling Eldridge:
RIDGE
Sanborn loads the clean bullets and fires.
SCOPE POV
One figure on the roof is hit. The other man crawls back and out of sight.
RIDGE
SCOPE POV
Scanning... Another FIGURE, lying on the desert floor.
RIDGE
SCOPE POV
Sanborn’s bullet strikes the ground a dozen feet in front of the man, kicking up a harmless puff of dust.
The man gets up and runs towards the building while firing his AK-47 back at Sanborn and James. His carbine’s muzzle flash, ineffective at this great range, sparkles in the bright day.
RIDGE
Sanborn pulls the trigger.
SCOPE POV
Sanborn’s bullet strikes the fleeing man in the upper chest, blood spurting as the large round throws him dead to the ground.
RIDGE
SCOPE POV
The sniper in the building appears in the window.
BUILDING
The insurgent sniper team leans out the window and fires at James and Sanborn.
RIDGE
The bullet snaps near James and Sanborn.
Sanborn fires.
SCOPE POV
Miss! Sanborn’s bullet strikes the building just below the window and the insurgent team withdraws inside.
The insurgent, having run to the other side of the building, now appears in the other window, the left window. James sees his barrel.
Sanborn turns his head away from the gun and makes an audible exhale to release tension: the sniper breath control technique. Then he fires a hit; the insurgent slumps in the window.
SCOPE POV
The roof of the tall building in the distance bobs in and out of view; the scope dances at this range.
James scans the area. Silence.
DESERT WIDE
We mark the passage of time with dust devils spinning across a horizon of lengthening shadows.
EXT/INT DEEP RAVINE HOURS LATER
The sun lower in the sky.Around the pit, the fallen TEAM LEADER has been pushed to one side, and the living are hanging on to their sanity.
Eldridge and the remaining contractors have exhausted their water supply.
Eldridge is in a sentry position facing east, in the direction of the railroad tracks. The other two contractors are in sentry positions facing south and north.
Sanborn and James are in EXACTLY the same position as when we left them, exposed to the elements. Desert heat and sand have taken their toll on Sanborn especially.
The scope BLURS as Sanborn’s vision fails for a moment.
RIDGE
James notices Sanborn’s fatigue.
Eldridge digs around the dead TEAM LEADER’S backpack and retrieves a packet of juice, which he passes to James.
James inserts the straw into the juice pack.
He hesitates, not sure if Sanborn will accept the gesture after all the hostility that’s passed between them...
James brings the straw to Sanborn’s lips.
At first, Sanborn keeps his attention on the rifle scope.
With some discomfort, Sanborn opens his sun-scorched lips and sips.
RAVINE
Eldridge scans the horizon--
--a small HERD of GOATS amble along the railroad tracks.
He rubs his eyes, looks again--
--Somewhere within the herd a flutter of fabric--
Eldridge stiffens.
Eldridge looks down his scope, unsure. James keeps his focus forward on the building.
Eldridge shifts his weight onto his rifle.
Another flutter of movement at the edge of the tracks.
Eldridge pulls the trigger. Then he pulls it again. And again, emptying his magazine at the distant target.
The goats scatter, revealing a lifeless BODY draped across the tracks.
Eldridge slumps, let’s go of his rifle.
RAVINE SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Dusk. Shadows fall over James and Sanborn, both of whom remain lying in the exact same sniping position, although now they are covered head to toe in sand.
There’s no movement in the house. No movement on the far ridge. No sign of life anywhere beyond their encampment.
It’s just them and the sky and the desert.
Play time: James and Sanborn square off, drunk, swaying, red- faced, fists clenched. When Sanborn nods, James punches him in the stomach.
James smiles; he looks good. The unleashed aggression is like a vitamin to him.
With difficulty, Sanborn straightens up and stumbles out of the trailer.
James lurches towards Eldridge.
They clink cups. Eldridge gulps his whiskey.
James collapses in his chair.
Eldridge sits down carefully.
As Sanborn loudly stumbles back into the room, he notices by the door something a little odd under James’ bed: a box. It’s odd because there is nothing else in the barren room besides Army-issue furniture, lights, and the whiskey they’ve been drinking.
Curious, Sanborn retrieves the box out and sets it on a makeshift coffee table to get a better look.
Sanborn pulls out a weathered snapshot of a baby boy.
James pulls out a circuit and gazes reverently at the mechanical design.
Eldridge rummages through the box and finds a gold ring hanging from a cheap chain.
He dangles the ring in front of James.
Eldridge, ever unsure, allies with James.
JAMES SANBORN
I agree. I think it’s I think that punch was harder interesting, too. than I hit you. Therefore, I
owe you a punch. So get up motherfucker.
James leaps up, pleased to end the conversation.
Sanborn follows, clapping his hands -- cruising for a bruising.
Eldridge picks up a magic marker and tells James to take off his shirt.
Then he draws a bulls-eye on James’ bared stomach.
And as he does, he notices knotty scar tissue.
ELDRIDGE SANBORN
Looks like frag scars. Let it go, Eldridge.
James smiles, raises his arms, exposing his midsection to Sanborn.
Sanborn winds up for a powerful blow. He leans back, then launches a gut punch that knocks James to the floor.
James lies there in a heap, laughing.
When he gets up, he’s laughing so hard that gleeful tears run down his face.
Now Sanborn raises his arms, bracing for the blow.
James feints a right cross, fakes a jab, then grabs Sanborn by the neck and unleashes a brutal uppercut to the solar plexus. Sanborn collapses, moaning in pain.
James extends his hand to help Sanborn off the floor.
But when Sanborn reaches for help, James rushes him wildly, like a football tackle, knocking him back to the floor, and, in a sudden fit of aggression, he then jumps on Sanborn’s chest, pins his arms with his knees and clasps his throat.
Sanborn tries to buck James off but he can’t dislodge the former Ranger.
Sanborn redoubles his efforts, throwing his weight this way and that. Still, James remains on top -- his face twisted with a macho snarl.
Sanborn bucks harder. But instead of knocking James loose, his kicking and struggling to get free spurs James to even deeper levels of male weirdness. And as Sanborn kicks and bucks underneath him, James pumps his hand like a cowboy at a rodeo, crying out:
Now Sanborn reaches for his boot knife.
ECU: knife blade snapping open
Sanborn jams the blade against James’ throat and their eyes lock.
James smiles like a child. He pats Sanborn’s head and laughs.
At last, Sanborn is released. James pats him on the chest.
Sanborn, too drunk to stand, is being guided across the barracks square by Eldridge and James. When they come to Eldridge’s trailer, James shoulders Sanborn by himself and Eldridge goes inside.
It’s not easy for James to carry Sanborn alone and Sanborn nearly slips to the ground.
They walk a little farther to Sanborn’s trailer, passing a SOLDIER who looks at them curiously. Drinking is not allowed on US bases in Iraq. James brushes aside the officious look, saying “he hurt his knee” and guides Sanborn up a set of stairs into Sanborn’s trailer.
James eases Sanborn onto a cot and heads for the door.
Sanborn mumbles drunkenly:
James stumbles inside, flops on the bed, and takes another swig of whiskey.
He lies there and stares at his bomb helmet, which is sitting on a desk adjacent to his cot.
He looks at the helmet... and reaches for it.
Then he brings the helmet over his head and adjusts the straps and unlocks the glass protective masks, so that it snaps down over his face and his entire head is sheathed in the protective metal.
A man encased in his armor.
He leans back in the bed and we HEAR the rasp of James BREATHING...daydreaming...as he re-experiences the feeling of a bomb in his hands, the morbid thrill.
EXT/INT HUMVEE CAMP VICTORY PARKING LOT
A massive sandstorm is underway. Howling winds disperse red sand over the entire base, giving it an otherworldly, almost Martian aspect. Throngs of men and their vehicles fight the brutal weather.
TITLE:
Days Left in Bravo Company’s Rotation: 16
Lt. Col. Cambridge comes out of the gloom, approaches the vehicles window, and knocks.
James shoots Eldridge a look. Eldridge shrugs.
A partially destroyed building fills the screen. A mess of bricks and rebar. Wind swirls sand up into the air.
TITLE:
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY’S ROTATION: 16
Nearby, an OLD IRAQI MAN with a DONKEY drawn cart is unloading new bricks to repair the building.
Farther up the road, a good distance from the building, are two parked Humvees. Nearby, James and his team are talking to a small cluster of SOLDIERS.
Eldridge gives Cambridge the drill:
James, Sanborn and Eldridge enter a landing. The floor is very wet. They cross it, and come to a room that has been severely damaged by a bomb, with rubble everywhere and exposed electrical wires dangling from the ceiling, and busted pipes gushing water. A tea pot sits on a STOVE, steaming hot, and a plate on the table has bread on it.
WATER LOGGED ROOM
They gingerly investigate a large cavernous room with leaky pipes dripping water onto an oil-slicked floor. We HEAR their breathing, the water DROPLETS falling. Moving tactically, covering all sides of their approach, they press deeper into the building down
CORRIDOR
A dark corridor which the insurgents have strewn with glass as an early-warning system. Advancing slowly, glass CRUNCHING underfoot, they pass through this corridor into
CLASSROOM
A classroom lined with student’s desks and chairs, beyond which lies another room. James and Sanborn spin quietly into this room, rifles raised, while Eldridge hangs back to cover the corridor.
INSURGENT LIVING SPACE
They find themselves in a recently used living area. A teapot cooking on a bunsen burner hisses steam. Mattresses and bedding line the walls of the room. The walls are decorated with Jihadist slogans, and a video camera for making recruiting videos has pride of place on a tripod in the center of the room.
Sanborn checks under the mattresses for hidden explosives, finds none, and exchanges a worried look with James.
Moving as one unit they spin into the next room.
EMPTY ROOM
It’s empty, another forboding large space strewn with rubble and garbage. They pass through this area and push open a door to --
BOMB FACTORY
Santa’s bomb making factory.
In contrast to the spare spaces they’ve just passed through, this room is overflowing with the tools of a an insurgency that uses bombs as its primary weapon: electronics and explosives of all kinds are everywhere: artillery shells, boxes of batteries, plastic explosives, military manuals, rockets, grenades, stacks of dynamite, tools, magnifying glasses, and soldering guns.
Though a few of these munitions bear the stamps of foreign militaries, most bear insignias in English. It is, ironically, a cache of armaments that formerly belonged to the American military.
The men weave through the piles of explosives, slowly checking every space where a human could possibly be hiding.
At last they’re satisfied:
Eldridge draws near to one desk where a cigarette burns in an ashtray.
BACK OF ROOM
In the back half of the room, a plastic curtain hangs over a work table, forming a make-shift sterile room.
Smelling the copper odor of blood and death emanating from behind that curtain, James pushes the plastic to one side.
He draws near to a table, where he sees the DEAD BODY of a YOUNG BOY wearing pants but no shirt. Flies buzz over his bloody bare chest.
Sanborn and Eldridge come beside him, and approach the body cautiously.
The dead young man’s chest has been cut open. An artillery shell is shoved inside the cavity where the heart used to beat. Wires protrude from the shell.
James shakes his head no as Sanborn moves closer to the body and inspects the wiring in the chest.
The boy’s FACE, half in shadow, is so disfigured by bruises that it’s hard to identify. But it might be someone familiar to James.
Sanborn ignores that and turns to Eldridge.
Eldridge shakes his head, pulling his neck scarf up over his nose.
Sanborn and Eldridge leave James alone with the body.
He stares at the boy.
Cambridge, with limited Iraqi language skills, is trying to speak to a MAN piling rocks in the back of his donkey cart.
The Iraqi peasant replies in Arabic, motioning to the rocks and his cart.
James steps away.
Sanborn and Eldridge meet up outside.
James turns away from the body. Thinks.
Eldridge arrives with the C4. The look on James’ face concerns him.
Eldridge nods. Makes a hasty exit.
James pulls C4 blocks from his pack and arranges them around the body. He plugs a blasting cap into the C4. In doing so he finds himself drawn to the dead boy’s eyes, which seem somehow to stare directly at him.
James tries to keep his feelings in check and his mind on the task by arranging the charges and preparing the detonation.
But he can’t. The war has finally reached him.
In one fluid motion James removes the charges and takes off his helmet.
He closes the boy’s eyes.
And slams his fists on the table.
Sanborn and Eldridge grab water by the Humvee.
CAMBRIDGE AT THE DONKEY CART
Now there are a few IRAQI MEN gathered near the donkey cart. Cambridge is doing his best to communicate.
James carefully checks the boy’s body for trip wires, then proceeds the snip the wires which were sown into the boy’s stomach.
One by one, he cuts them.
He inserts his hands into the boy’s abdomen and removes the artillery shell bomb that had been diabolically placed there.
He wipes his face, smearing blood, then covers the body in a white cloth.
The boy’s blood seeps through the cloth and stains it red.
James carries the boy’s body down the narrow corridor. The head and feet bump the sides.
James brings the body out carries it to a blue and white pickup TRUCK emblazoned with the logo of the Iraqi National Police pulls up to their position.
A pair of POLICEMEN get out and after a few words with James, they load the body.
James watches the police truck drive away. He then moves for the Humvee, motioning for Cambridge to load up.
Sanborn and Eldridge sit across from each other, watching James.
CAMBRIDGE AT THE DONKEY CART
Cambridge, losing patience with what is now a small crowd of Iraqis, motions with his M4.
The crowd slowly disperses, amid grumbling and cursing. Cambridge waves patronizingly at them as they go, saying “thank you, bye-bye,” etc. He doesn’t notice that one of the older men has left on the ground a white rice bag.
Simultaneously, the conversation in the Humvee continues:
James cracks the door of the Humvee, leans inside, sees Cambridge -
Through the HUMVEE windshield:Cambridge, now pleased that the crowd has gone, waves good-bye to the entire neighborhood, and, hearing James, steps towards the Humvee, passing the white rice bag, which suddenly --
--explodes in a A SICKENING BLAST
--obliterating Cambridge
--sending his head crashing into the HUMVEE, along with a could of debris which instantly blackens the windshield and blots out the sun and our view of everything -
CRIES of “IED!” “IED” as our three soldiers stumble out of the vehicle into the rancid air, while other soldiers, dashing to the scene from all sides, scramble to restore order and shout “it’s the commander” “watch your six”, etc.
We follow Eldridge, stunned, as he walks into the aftermath and finds a smoking helmet on the ground.
He picks it up.
Its nylon cover is burning; the inside is charred.
Eldridge looks down and sees body parts and bits of uniform strewn on the ground.
James rushes to Eldridge’s side.
James pulls Eldridge into a bear hug. Eldridge sobs.
As the sun sets behind him, James leans against a power pole and dials a SATELLITE PHONE.
He hangs up.
Dials again.
In a modest mid-Western kitchen, the phone rings. A young WOMAN holding a BABY rushes to get it.
Silence on the other end of the line.
James hangs up and shoves the phone back in his pocket.
James, smoking, twitchy, watching something... the OLDER IRAQI MAN who sells DVDs at Beckham’s usual table. Although Beckham is not there, the man organizes his DVDs, business as usual. James stalks up to him.
The man shakes his head.
James turns to a nearby INFANTRY GUARD.
James, agitated, seeing that he has no hope of prevailing, turns away and trudges back into Camp Victory’s maze.
It’s the end of the day and the DVD seller packs up his wares to close shop. James, in sunglasses, sweatshirt covering his army fatigues, watches him do this, and then follows the man to his truck. As the man starts the engine, James jumps in the passenger side and threatens with his pistol.
The truck passes through a middle-class Baghdad neighborhood and comes to a stop at a house surrounded by an 8-foot high concrete wall.
159 JAMES 159
This is the house? Beckham’s house?
The driver nods, sort of.
James gets out and jogs to the house. He tries the front gate, sees that it is locked, and while he does the car drives off.
If he cares, he doesn’t show it. James scales the wall and drops inside the front courtyard.
A modest courtyard. Light comes from one window in the house, the rest is dark. Crickets. Inside, a TV is playing. James tries the front door. It opens.
In a dark hallway. Murmuring of a television. James moves towards the noise.
James comes to an antechamber. Behind it is a very low stone archway. He goes through the archway, where -
A MAN -- call him KALIM -- older, fifties, dressed in Western fashion, is busy at the sink, washing dishes. James walks in, gun raised. Kalim drops a dish. James puts his fingers to his lips, shhhh.
As his certainty slips away, James hears rustling and spins to see
-- a WOMAN, older, matronly, carrying a tea tray. She sees James, his gun, and starts cursing him in Arab, appalled that an armed American would come to her house.
James steps back. Her cursing grows fiercer. She raises her tea tray.
Undaunted, she throws the tray at James. He twists to avoid it, takes a few steps to the door, and ends up HITTING his HEAD badly on the concrete archway as he runs out of the house.
James is shaken. He looks around and down the street.He runs...and runs...Blood runs from the wound on his head as he navigates the busy Iraqi neighborhood at night, running down streets teeming with SHOPPERS who stare at him ominously, dodging traffic, moving past OLD MEN smoking at a CAFE who note his panic, by a BUTCHER SHOP where an entire COW CARCASS is being unloaded, and on and on... we stay with his eyes.
Off the a screeching car as James dashes across a street, we
James, hands held high over his head, walks up to one of the camp’s check-points, shouting:
Powerful flood lights switch on, blinding him. Then the screaming of hyped up guards:
GUARDS GUARDS
Stop, get the fuck down. On Don’t fucking move! your knees!
GUARDS GUARDS
Stop! On your knees, on your
knees!!
James sinks to his knees.
GUARD GUARD
Open your fucking jacket! Cover!!
James unzips his sweatshirt and declares:
A guard armed with a shotgun charges out of the glare and kicks James to the ground, pinning his knee into his back.
The guard finds James’ pistol. He shouts:
GUARD JAMES
Gun!! Weapon’s clear!! Like I said. (beat) Do you
want to look at my I.D.?
James steps into his trailer. His walkie, sitting on a desk, CRACKLES to life.
In a bustling parking lot, aglow with headlights from Humvees and troop carries, we find James running towards one Humvee, which he jumps into. Sanborn is at the wheel and not amused.
James gives no reply. He turns to Eldridge.
As the Humvee rolls out of the base,
A helicopter spotlight illuminates a Hieronymus Bosch nightmare of tangled limbs and body parts. Then fires, smoke, and the cries of wailing grievers and wounded carried on stretchers, ambulances, police, fire trucks...the ghastly, frantic aftermath of a major detonation.
Their combat flashlights send piercing white beams into this grim spectacle, while in the distance a huge fire, a GLOWING RED INFERNO at the end of the block, lights what we now see is a blast radius that extends for a nearly a mile.
Moving towards the glowing fire, past ten foot high flames and the remains of houses pulverized to concrete and glass, rubble piles, past screaming women and more bloody wounded being carried away by IRAQI POLICE...
they pause to try and help Iraqi police save a man pinned under a car. He’s dragged away like a rag doll.
They press on towards the inferno and stop when they notice a hunk of metal.
Moving ahead, the men split up, navigating different paths through this hectic apocalypse:
ELDRIDGE
A Bhurka-clad WOMAN appears out of the distant flames and haze, looking disoriented, in apparent shock. Behind her is a blazing car.
On the ground beside the car lies a single black loafer.
Eldridge sees the lone shoe and is at a loss to process its significance.
Another mind-numbing, soul-numbing casualty of war.
SANBORN
At a gigantic rubble pile, Sanborn reaches down to remove chunks of stone covering a BODY.
The stone slides away but another falls in its place.
Sanborn looks down, sees a second man, or what’s left of a man: head and torso but no legs -- just stumps, twitching.
Around him, GRIEVING FAMILIES pick through the dead and dying with IRAQI MEDICS.
JAMES
Drawing near to the inferno, he moves past burning palm trees which erupt into a fountain of embers.
And comes at last to the burning steel carcase of...
OIL TANKER
an OIL TANKER.
From what’s left of the twisted metal sub-frame flames twenty feet high scorch the night, like the maw of hell on earth.
James stares, transfixed by the burning...the imprint of some insurgent’s plan.
His face hardens now in a way we haven’t seen before, and as the fire flickers on his features he seems lost in a private war of his own.
The insurgents are out theresomewhere.
Ahab and the Whale.
SANBORN AND ELDRIDGE
Sanborn and Eldridge look helplessly at a girl who is trapped on the landing of a half-destroyed building. She cries for her father.
Behind them, several platoons of U.S. SOLDIERS and IRAQI POLICE arrive to secure the boundaries of the blast zone.
EDGE OF BLAST RADIUS
James approaches a LEMON GROVE which lies just beyond the fire’s reach.
As Sanborn and Eldridge walk up behind him, James touches a UNBLEMISHED LEMON nestled among the thorns.
Sanborn comes into view. James nods to him, then stares into the distance, a man possessed.
Sanborn looks at James and looks at the bandage on his head.
James glowers at Sanborn and Eldridge and moves deeper into an unlit field behind the lemon grove.
Eldridge shoots Sanborn a sympathetic glance and follows James.
Sanborn watches them recede into the darkness. Then he runs after his team.
They move across the dark field, three abreast into the enveloping night.
We gradually lose sight of them in BLACKNESS. Seeing nothing, we HEAR, however, their BREATHING, and gravel CRUNCHING underfoot.
After a long moment of no visibility...they’re faintly visible again in dim florescent light and we see:
A shadowy parking lot filled with marooned cars, beyond which lies a neighborhood of one-story homes and narrow alleys.
Amid the cars, the men come across the bullet-shaped hull of an intact oil tanker. They crouch beside it, whispering:
But James has already dashed into the third alley.
ALLEY TWO
Eldridge, walking slowly, not sure he likes being alone.
ALLEY THREE
James runs confidently, sees a few kids in a doorway and tells them to scoot.
ALLEY ONE
Sanborn runs to make up for being the last to leave.
ALLEY TWO
Eldridge peers into an abandoned house. He thinks he hears something.
Spins.
It’s nothing.
ALLEY ONE
Sanborn slows. Catches his breath when suddenly --
--BLAM, BLAM, BLAM - the staccato of GUNFIRE slaps off the concrete--
Sanborn dashes full speed back to the alley’s opening.
ALLEY THREE
James turns, runs hard back into--
SANBORN AND JAMES
--the first intersection, where he sees Sanborn and shouts
ALLEY TWO
They come to Eldridge’s alley where they see that a body lies on the ground. They run to it.
As they draw close they see not Eldridge but the BODY of an Iraqi insurgent, dead from gunshot wounds.
A moment of decision.
They run down the alley into a maze of narrow streets and dimly lit corridors.
NARROW STREET
Turning a corner, they catch a fleeting glimpse of Eldridge being dragged away by TWO INSURGENTS.
Before they can fire, the men are gone.
CORNER
They run to this corner and prepare to spin around it and shoot.
James hands Sanborn his flashlight.
DARK CORNER
They spin around the corner and flash light revealing NOTHING but an empty street.
NEXT ALLEY
They sprint to the next block, and again see Eldridge being dragged.
Again, they aim and spin: Sanborn shines the light - beams Eldridge and the two insurgents -- and James FIRES two short bursts from his M4.
The two insurgents collapse.
But Eldridge also goes down.
Running up, James and Sanborn see the insurgents are motionless, shot clean.
One bullet, however, has gone astray into Eldridge’s leg and he’s bleeding profusely.
As James and Sanborn apply first aide:
Eldridge looks to Sanborn for confirmation that wound is indeed not mortal.
As Sanborn and James yank Eldridge off the ground, he screams in pain.
James trudges into an empty bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Sees the faraway expression of a man lost to the war.
His shirt is crimson with Eldridge’s blood.
He steps inside a shower stall, still dressed in full battle rattle, and turns on the hot faucet.
The water streams over him...and he lets go, punching the wall, thrashing his arms, then sinking down sobbing, broken, as his uniform soaks through and the reddish pink water swirls down the drain.
Looking fine and wearing a fresh clean uniform, James strides purposely out of the head shed toward a waiting Humvee in the parking lot.
He sees on the other side of the parking lot... none other than Beckham, who happily shouts to him:
James stops. He stares. What can he say? The boy is fine.
His jihad was pointless. Insane.
Unable to face the kid and unwilling to explain, James turns away and stiffly gets into the Humvee.
The Humvee roars to life and drives away.
Beckham watches it go, hurt, confused.
Prelap: the ROTAR WASH of a helicopter preparing to fly.
Two SOLDIERS load Eldridge, strapped to a stretcher, onto a transport helicopter.
Sanborn and James run across the helipad to wish him good- bye.
Eldridge is jostled as he gets put down; he cries out in pain.
James is crestfallen.
A U.S. MEDIVAC CREW MEMBER looks at Sanborn and gives a hand signal to wrap it up: time to go.
As the helicopter door slams closed, Eldridge shouts “lets get out of this desert.”
James and Sanborn step back from the rotor wash.
James turns to say something to Sanborn. But he’s already walking away.
A young SERGEANT at a checkpoint raises his M4 and shouts nervously at a bewildered Iraqi MAN in a BLACK SUIT. The man’s hands are raised. He’s standing alone in the middle of a square which has been cleared of all other pedestrians, and which is flanked by US ARMY soldiers and a TRANSLATOR disguising his identity by wearing a black ski mask.
SHOUTING IN ARABIC as the translator conveys this command.
TITLE:
DAYS LEFT IN BRAVO COMPANY’S ROTATION: 2
James wearing his bomb suit, approaches the scene, while Sanborn follows close behind him in the Humvee.
One of the soldiers grabs the translator, while others, seeing James, shout “give him room,” “let him through,” etc.
James and the Sergeant huddle.
The translator SHOUTS in Arabic.
The MAN unbuttons his jacket, revealing...
Clamped to his chest is a metal cage, locked with padlocks, and loaded with blocks of C4 wrapped in nails.
The translator SHOUTS. The man in the BLACK SUIT, gripped with despair, drops to his knees and raises his hands.
As James considers that option when --
Sanborn pulls James aside for a private moment and pleads with him to be careful:
James considers. Sanborn’s right, of course. But he can’t help himself. Like a moth to a flame, this is what he does.
Sanborn reluctantly seals James in the helmet.
They bang fists.
DOWNRANGE NEAR SUICIDE BOMBER
James grabs a nearby soldier’s walkie, then starts the walk downrange. Soldiers moving back to their perimeter... PEDESTRIANS gathering for a look. Soldiers scattering them quickly.
Black Suit smiles thinly as James nears. James nods at him. The man nods, frightened.
James kneels down to get a closer look at the bomb strapped to the man’s belly. He takes out his 9mm and puts it on the guy’s forehead. Cocks the trigger.
BLACK SUIT replies in Arabic.
UPRANGE FROM SUICIDE BOMBER
DOWNRANGE NEAR SUICIDE BOMBER
James holds his walkie up for the man to hear the translator.
Translator conveys this to BLACK SUIT in Arabic. BLACK SUIT starts yelling in Arabic. Forehead wet with sweat.
James holds the walkie up to the man’s ear, “listen,” “do you understand?”
Now James sinks to his knees and examines the bomb, all the while keeping his pistol on the man’s head. There is a FOREST OF WIRES. He pushes them aside, revealing a cheap Casio digital WATCH,which is counting down from five minutes.
James feels around the bomb. It’s strapped to the BLACK SUIT man with heavy gauge metal. The man shakes.
HUMVEE
Sanborn is already running towards the truck when he hears James.
DOWNRANGE NEAR SUICIDE BOMBER
James presses the man’s head to comfort him.
The Casio watch is at 4:30.
UPRANGE FROM SUICIDE BOMBER
Sanborn runs hard with the bolt cutters.
DOWNRANGE NEAR SUICIDE BOMBER
Sanborn hands James the cutters.
The man is crying.
Sanborn sees the Casio. It reads 4:00
James works the cutter blade.
ECU: Bolt Cutter. It SCRAPES futilely against the metal.
James doubles his effort.
ECU: Bolt Cutter. The blade bites the steel, but it doesn’t give. James squeezes with all his might.
ECU: Casio Watch 1:46.
Sanborn nods. His hand is starting to shake.
James goes behind the man, and rips open the back of his shirt, revealing the back of the bomb.
Here too it is a welded band, but the metal looks thinner. James works it with the cutter.
ECU: Casio Watch 1:30.
Sanborn runs uprange.
The soldiers turn and run.
James strains to clip the metal bar of the lock, putting all of his weight into the effort. Finally, the blades slices.
ECU: broken lock falls to the ground.
James sees that he has four more locks more to cut. The time is ticking down to 20 seconds.
James brings himself face-to-face with the man he can’t save.
James drops the bolt cutter, kneels down in front of the man, and shakes his head. That’s it.
The man understands James’ gesture. He reaches forward, grabbing James’ suit.
James brushes his hand away.
James turns his back to the man and runs for cover.
--James running, arms akimbo
--The Black Suit man stands up and cries out to ALLAH!
BOOM!!
-- He explodes anda hailstorm of particulate matter comes flying at 22,000 feet per second straight at us
-- chunks of molten metal hit James, knocking him to the ground
--Sanborn, diving to keep the translator behind a barrier, is grazed by shrapnel.
James’ white face; blood seeps from his nose. Then as if overcoming great resistance his heart turns over with a loud beating. And as Sanborn recovers and shouts orders, “everybody out” in the background, James opens his eyes to the sky.
A KITE flutters overhead.
The Humvee chugs through a crowded neighborhood. Traffic thickening. Shadows against a dimming sky.
James drives. Sanborn is in the passenger seat covered in grime and dust.
James passes Sanborn some Gatorade.
Sanborn drinks, grateful, and puts the Gatorade down. Then he looks at James.
Sanborn shakes his head. Unconsciously, his fingers touch his neck, finding the exposed area above the collar of his body armor.
A long beat.
Sanborn thinks on this. After a beat -
They exchange a long look. Brothers at last.
A gang of laughing KIDS throw rocks at the armored Humvee.
We’re walking with James down a wide, polished aisle, past shelves of frozen treats glistening behind reflective glass, in the shiny and perfectly sterile cathedral to consumerism otherwise known as a supermarket.
James looks different here, awkward, less sure of himself. With his hair grown-in and his dreamy expression, he could be just another suburban softy pushing a shopping cart.
He’s home but this is clearly not where he lives.
A beautiful young WOMAN approaches him from the other end of the aisle. She too is pushing a shopping cart and in it is a small BOY. She smiles at James and says:
CONNIE JAMES smiles again and pats her husband on the shoulder. As she walks away, he mumbles:
But she’s already out of ear shot.
CEREAL AISLE
James stares at the rows and rows of cereal boxes, a medley of different brands all containing the same sugar and coloring and starch.
He looks this way and that.
Thrown by the abundant choices after the starkness of Baghdad, he can’t decide which brand is his.
He reaches for a box, then pulls back, still unsure of himself.
Giving up, he picks a box at random and tosses it into the cart.
DAYS LATER
Rain water. Falling leaves. James is cleaning out the gutter, working under an overcast sky.
James zones out in front of a snowy TV; the glow plays on his face.
Domesticity. Connie peels a pile of carrots. James washes mushrooms in the sink.
He tries to clean them individually but they crumble in his hands.
She’s heard this kind of story before and knows where it ends. She can’t bring herself to reply.
Bedtime. James is putting his son to sleep in a room decorated with mobiles and colorful wall hangings. He sets the mobile spinning.
The boy giggles and reaches up.
On the bed is a Jack-In-the-Box, which James picks up and winds. He opens the toy for his son who squeals with delight, eyes wide with admiration for his daddy. Daddy, however, isn’t sure where to go with this..An odd moment for the wild- man of Baghdad: playing the awkward dad to his adoring child
James looks into his son’s unconditionally loving eyes.
Something he sees there prompts a confession:
James playfully spins the mobile. The boy laughs at the whirring color.
The boy touches the Jack-in-the-Box, smiling beautifully.
James pauses. His son continues to giggle and play.
--sonic overload of a C-130 airplane landing.
Wheels touch down on tarmac.
The hydraulics of a loading ramp engage, lowering the ramp, and revealing a troop of young SOLDIERS inside the belly of the plane.
Passing over their frightened faces, we find one man who looks remarkably at ease.
James.
The soldiers disembark and we follow James as he leaves the plane and greets a another young EOD SOLDIER who has been waiting for him on the tarmac.
James shakes his hand.
A Middle-Eastern sun bathes James’ upturned face lengthening into a smile.
His pace slows...the tarmactransitions to dirt as little puffs of dust lift off his continuous passage.
He is now in the bomb suit and we are --
On yet another war-torn street.
Two fresh faced EOD SOLDIERS observe James as he makes another lonely walk down an empty block... heading to a bomb.
-- James' face glistening with pleasure
-- The noon day sun shimmers on his helmet shield
TITLE:
DAYS LEFT IN DELTA COMPANY’S ROTATION: 365
And we watch him go down the unnamed road until he disappears.
END