CARTWRIGHT VS SOME OTHER GUY
 
A Screenplay by:
A writer (And also Andrew Glynn)

 FADE IN:

 EPIC MUSIC O.S., the MAIN TITLES ROLLING over a series of medieval
 MOBILE PHONES.  SINISTER IMAGERY - monsters, demons, torture devices, Sean Cartwright -
 DISOLVING into one another, then we...
 Run like f*ck because the camera men are scared to hell...
 
 OPEN ON: A DOOR:
 EXT. HILLSIDE PASS - SUNSET (17TH CENTURY)

 Lush yellow fields and vineyards, very like Sean Cartwright's home world.
 SOLEMN BENDICTINE CHANTING on the SOUNDTRACK OF AUSTIN POWERS, and the distant
 RESONANT TOLLING of a church bell, O.S.

 We HEAR TINKLING CHIMES.  With a gentle CLIP-CLOP OF DRUMMERS, a
 burro crests a dark hill, silhouetted against the blood-red sun.
 Its rider adorned in lavish Chaotic vests.

 Before we can be amused, SIX MAGNIFICENT CHARGERS follow.  Two
 grim-faced CIVILIANS in formal 21st century clothing to the fore,
 a vanguard of pendant-wielding SOLDIERS at back.

 CLOSER NOW.  The horses are nervous. They dont like the cameras.
 The burro's rider - SIGNOR
 DELUCA - MURMURS something nervously in Italian.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   "Le colline...hanno occhi!"
   Translation:
   "Hola!! Dis Be Drive By FM Da Sound Of Da getto comin from deep in de heart of Paris"

 PITT - a wary American Bitchfinder - narrows his eyes.  Turns to
 his traveling companion.

      PITT
   What did he say?

 HOPKINS - a strange Englishman with a startling similarity
 to Jackie Chan- avoids his gaze.  Scours the encroaching
 terrain with his crap vision.

      HOPKINS
   "The hills...have fries."

 The horses DIE, worried by something nearby.  SHEET-LIGHTNING
 whites-out the sky, drizzle spattering the earth.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
     (heavily-accented Scottish)
   It's begun --

 AN ANGLE ABOVE, LOOKING DOWN.  The company trek as if lost along
 the winding trail.  Something dark prowls past IMMEDIATE
 FOREGROUND. CHOKES inhumanely...
 It is John Cartwright...

 EXT. CASTLE APPROACH - SUNSET (17TH CENTURY)

 The horses BUCK and REAR as they go round the bend.

      SOLDIER #1
   Mother of Dave --

 THEIR P.O.V.  A PAIR OF GROTESQUE WOODEN-FRAME EFFIGIES dominate
 the trail  ahead, one to either side.  Human-shaped, 30 feet
 tall.  Both are aflame, packed with BURNING CADAVERS (anyone
 remember the 1973 movie "The Wicker Man"?).

      HOPKINS
     (solemnly)
   I've seen this before.

      PITT
   In England?

      HOPKINS
   No, on T.V...

 As the troupe continue forward, we CRANE UP BEHIND THEM.  Half a
 mile away, a gothic Italian castle looms ominously dark THUNDER
 CLOUDS roll supernaturally across the sky.  A SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION
 CARD informs us this is:

   ITALY - 1648 I THINK

 EXT. ENTRANCE - CASTLE - NIGHT (17TH CENTURY)

 The ground has turned to slush.  The horses skid, lose their
 footing. This is quite perplexing, because the horses died in a previous scene. An ornate wooden box tethered to a  saddlebag bursts
 open, releasing --

      PITT
   Sean -- !

 SOLDIER #1 dismounts, scrabbles in the mud.  Passes two rather
 plain-looking daggers back to DeLuca.  As he does--

 THEY TRANSFORM.  Morphing into exact duplicates of the Byzantine
 blade which slayed Jason Voorhees in "Jason Goes To Hell."
 Astonishment flashes across the Soldier's face.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
     (admonishes him)
   This matter...will not pass your lips.

 Hopkins and Pitt stare covetously at the weapons.

      PITT
   The Daggers of Stretford...

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   Sacrosanct.  Said...forged...by the
   off worlders...dead Cartwrights.

      HOPKINS
     (cannily)
   ...And also from the blade which pierced
   the side of.. Christ what the hell am i doing here?

 DeLuca shrugs, perhaps a little annoyed.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   Shut up.
     (to Soldier #2)
   Tether the animals.

 A turret rises above, a portent of doom.  Lightning FLARES.

 INT. ENTRANCE HALL - CASTLE - NIGHT (FOREGROUND MINATURE)

 Boots HUM on stone as the group enter an expansive circular
 chamber.  Water PLINK-PLONKS from dank taps all around.
 Inverted crosses on the walls, torches flickering in metal wall-
 holders.  A wide staircase spirals into streamer covered darkness above.

 A pair of giant censers swing back-and-forth...dozens of dangling
 chains with upturned corpses - real Grand Guignol - tangled in
 them.

 The FAINT STRAINS of a NURSERY RHYME - somehow familiar to us -
 intrude.  Incongruously, the LYRICS are Italian --

      DREAM CHILDREN
     (O.S., "Freddy Theme")
   "Uno, Due...Thanos venga per te.  Tre,
   quattro...dovete...er?..er....dovete...."

 The Voices are unsure what comes next in their song.

      HOPKINS
   Chiudre le porte.
      DREAM CHILDREN
   "Chiudre le porte..."
      HOPKINS
   You hear --?
      SIGNOR DELUCA
   No Im deaf. Of course I can hear you idiot.  Pitt...?
 
 The American stares up at the hanging wrought-iron chandelier
 frame, scrutinizing the SYMBOL forged into it.  Neither Celtic
 run, nor Egyptian glyph.  Not Sanskrit, or pentangle...but somehow
 all at once.

      PITT
   Salem.  Four years past.  I burnt a coven.
   This same device.
     (a beat)
   Evil is at hand...

      DREAM CHILDREN
     (O.S.)
   "Nove, dieci...non dormirai piu --"

 A VERTICAL ANGLE, HIGH ABOVE.  The RHYME stops.  SILENCE.  We HEAR
 a STEADY THUMP...THUMP.  They draw their swords as --

 Something PUNCHES FORCEFULLY through a COBWEB VEIL, BOUNCES down
 the steps.  Comes to a halt at SOLDIER #3's feet...a dyed-purple
 leather ball.  He bends

      PITT
   Wait -- !

 Either the man chooses to ignore, or he doesn't understand.  He
 picks it up.  There's a MIDIEVAL SMILING SUN embroidered in gold
 filigree on one side.  He grins.  Flips it to see --

 BURNS and MELTS, maggots and yellow bile pouring forth into his
 hand.  It multiplies exponentially, spilling up along his arm in a
 second like a cancer.  He turns, SCREAMING to the others --

      HOPKINS
   Back...stay back! He has been infected by.....SEAN.

 The Soldier lurches for them, his entire body consumed now.  He
 stumbles, falls to the floor.  EXPLODING into a mass of scarab
 beetles that scurry past their feet for the corners of the room.
 DeLuca crosses himself.

 GIGGLING from above.  The group look up to see a pair of YOUNG
 GIRLS in nothing but see through nighties duck back over a high balcony.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   There...

 INT. WINDING STAIRWAY - CASTLE - NIGHT (17TH CENTURY)

 A HUGE SPIDER scuttles across the thick blocking cobwebs.  The
 group cautiously acend the stairway, slicing at the musty veil.
 As Pitt turns his lantern to see a wall HEAVING with bugs --

 A COVEY OF CROWS flush from a cranny, wings fluttering into their
 face, blinding them.  DeLuca staggers back, feet pedaling on the
 edge.  A straight drop, 50 feet...

      HOPKINS
     (alarmed)
   Signor!

 Hopkins hand lashes out and drags him back.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
     (thankful)
   Grazie.
      DREAM CHILDREN
   "Oh thank christ. We can stop uttering that crap now."

 INT. CORRIDOR - CASTLE - NIGHT (17TH CENTURY)

 At the corridor's end are massive iron doors, 5 feet tall.  A pair
 of drop-dead gorgeous BLACK WOMEN in white robes stand before
 them, staring enigmatically with peculiar eyes.  The smoke
 wreathing them SWIRLS back through the doors like REVERSE TIME-
 LAPSE, gliding them with it.

 INT. NECROMANCER'S LAIR - CASTLE - NIGHT (17TH CENTURY)

 Another cylindrical chanber; the "Penticon" symbol Pitt recognized
 hewn large on the ancient stone floor. He looks through a glass skylight
 above, turbulent clouds simmer menacingly. Then, a magnificent object appears throught the clouds hovering there.

      HOPKINS
   The U.S.S Tranny.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   What?
      HOPKINS
   A mythical building that can defy all that is real. It can float and even carry people within it's    walls. There is gayness in that place.

 In the chamber's center - above the "Penticon", about 5 feet off
 the ground - floats a MAN. Crunched into a fetal position, he is
 naked.  Tautly muscled, every square inch of his body inscribed
 with occult symbology.  (He also bears more than a passing
 resemblance to John Cartwright).

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   My God...

 THE DOORS SLAM CLOSED behind them, the wall-torches extinguishing.
 The chamber becoming wreathed in the darkest shadows imaginable.
 A WOMAN'S LAUGHTER ECHOES ICILY, O.S.

      PITT
   Time is running out.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   Lets hurry the fu*k up then.

 The three men approach.  The air shimmers, as if they've just
 passed through an invisible force field of some kind. A strange gay feeling passes through their bodies as they  pass through this field.

 The three Soldiers stare around the room nervously.  All around
 are drawings and models, prototypes of fantastic inventions. Such as Gay drive, and forward di*do arrays.
 They're so proccupied, they don't notice --

 THIER OWN SHADOWS, peeling away from their bodies and sliding up
 the wall and start to have 'relations'.

      SIGNOR DELUCA (cont'd)
   Help me.  Reveal his heart.
      HOPKINS
        (Turns to Deluca)
   What the fu*k are you on?

 DeLuca holds the Dagger steady.  As Hopkins and Pitt reach up to
 grasp the Necromancer's folded arms --

 Behind them, DARK GRASPING CLAWS shoot down from above towards the
 Soldiers.  Hauling a SCREAMING Soldier #1 upward.

 The John Cartwright's eyes SNAP OPEN instantly, unleashing a BELLOW OF
 RAGE.  DeLuca slams forward with astonishing strength, driving the
 Dagger into the John Cartwright's chest..but only part way.  The
 creature's arms WHIP OUT with superhuman force, knocking the
 demon-slayers away.

 Soldiers #2 and #4 hack furiously away with their swords, trying
 to release their comrade, as --

 Hopkins reaches out. Grasps the Dagger's handle and drives it
 further into the John Cartwright's heart, twisting it.  He SHRIEKS
 like a feral animal --

 Then falls to the floor.  That same instant, the disemboweled
 corpse falls. Soldier #1 drops out of the shadows with a THUMP.
 The survivors edge warily forward, until --

 THEIR LANTERNS FLARE LIKE XENON, achingly bright.  The shadown in
 the room seem to alter...flow.  A moving, liquid mass from every
 corner that pours towards the fallen John Cartwright, entering the
 corpse's ass.  The chamber brightens, until --

 There are no more shadows in the room.  A BEAT, then --

 THE BODY EXPLODES, atomized to fine white droplets.  An ENORMOUS
 FORM rises up from within, some vast CLOAKED OUTLINE, LAUGHING
 with DEEP MALEVOLENCE.  Pitt steps forward, brandishing a
 crucifix.

      DARK VOICE
   Foolish bastards...do not test!

      PITT
   Test what?

 A shadow tentacle lashes out, slithers around Pitt's neck.  Hauls
 him off the floor and squeezes tight.  The crucifix clatters to
 the ground as blood seeps from his lips.

 Hopkins and SOLDIER #4 race forward to help.  Another pair of
 tentacles explode forth.  Hopkins is sent sprawling...the black
 mass PUNCHING straight through the Soldier #4's armor like a
 javelin and impaling him against the wall.  An arrow unleashed
 from Soldier #2's crossbow evaporates in mid-air.

 Pitt's tentacle finishes its work.  His decapitated body drops to
 the ground, the head rolling off into the shadows.

 Another pseudopod hurtles for DeLuca, who cries out --

 But suddenly Hopkins is there, wielding a Dagger of Horvath.  The
 tentacle hits the Holy blade and rives into black ice, showering
 the chamber floor.  The Shape LAUGHS UPROARIOUSLY.

      DARK VOICE
   When Time...reaches its close...and your
   race attains the skies...I will set my
   creatures to your Federation.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   Consign thee to Hell, foul spawn!

      HOPKINS
     (Again turns to Deluca)
   I ask again. What the fu*king hell are you on?

 The stone "Penticon" beneath the John Cartwright's corpse SHATTERS
 like glass, dropping into a GAPING ESOPHAGAL TUNNEL that plunges
 into the DEPTHS OF HELL.  The Shadow-form disappears in a
 SHOCKWAVE BLAST that EXPLODES the skylight and SPLINTERS
 everything breakable.  The MOCKING LAUGHTER fades as the
 "Penticon" reseals whole.

      HOPKINS
     (dryly)
   Demons.  So overdramatic.

 DeLuca gazes around at the complex inventions, marvelling.

      SIGNOR DELUCA
   Look at this.  The detail...the gayness.

      HOPKINS
   Humankind...might profit immeasurably.

 Soldier #4 approaches Hopkins hesitantly.

      SOLDIER #2
   Sire?  What...should --?

 Hopkins moves something on a nearby drafting board.  Examines the
 soft vellum parchment stretched out there.

 Like a Da Vinci anatomical study, we see an intricately detailed
 orthographic representation of John Cartwright's  U.S.S Tranny
 and Sean Cartwright's Jeans.

      HOPKINS
     (absent, but authoritative)
   Burn it all. Then do a dance because you people cannot dance. You are as funny as hell.

 Flames CRACKLE up INTO FRAME all around as we TRACK SLOWLY into
 the blueprint.  SLAMMING ROCK MUSIC RISES IT IS "SMOOTH CRIMINAL" O.S. as we --

                DISSOLVE THROUGH TO:

 EXT. ELM STREET. - BETHLEHEM, VIRGINIA - DAY

 BRIGHT SUNLIGHT, filtering down through the boughs of trees.  We
 CRANE DOWN, past a sign reading "Elm Street."  Hit a van in
 FOREGROUND on a read of anonymous suburban storefronts.

 SOME CAPTIONS FADE-UP.  The FIRST, which READS:
 
   BETHLEHEM,

 And then is replaced by the SECOND:

   WEST VIRGINIA

   And then is replaced by a THIRD:

   BETHLEHEM

   And then is replaced by a FOURTH:

   VIRGINIA

   And is then replaced by a FIFTH:

   IN THE WEST

   And is then replaced by a SIXTH:

   WHY DID YOU BOTHER TO COME SEE THIS CRAP?

   And is then replaced by a SEVENTH:

   NOVEMBER, 2002.

 An innocuous-looking bookshop sits across the road, the sign above
 the door reading "OLD BOOKS R US."  Right out-front, a muscular
 HELL'S ANGEL sits astride a gleaming Harley.  A scantily-clad
 TEEN BABE faces him atop the gas-tank, legs wrapped around his
 waist.  They're sucking some serious face.

      REZNOR
     (O.S.)
   What - are you grafted to him, lady?  Just
   how much foreplay's this bum need
   anyhow?!

 A TINY RED DOT flickers like an anxious firefly on the girl's
 throught.  Suddenly --

 SHE MOVES.  Legs still in place, she swings around him to ride
 pillion.  He guns the engine, and they pull out.

      RENZOR
     (O.S.)
   Thank you!  Crowd goes wild, crowd goes home --

 The red dot settles on the bookshop window, and --

      SPEAKER VOICE #1
     (O.S., filtered)
   -- This one's young --

 Through the bookshop window, we see TWO MEN in conversation.

             CUT TO:

 INT. F.B.I. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY

 A THUMB, stabbing at a button --

      SPEAKER VOICE #1 (cont'd)
     (O.S., filtered)
   Fresh --

 A SPECTROSCOPE, leaping into high peaks --

      SPEAKER VOICE #1 (cont'd)
     (O.S., filtered)
   Like a peach --

 A LASER-MIKE BEAM, slicing out from the one-way van window --

      SPEAKER VOICE #1 (cont'd)
     (O.S., filtered)
   Camera loves her.

 Nestled hi-tech equipment in the van's  rear is JAMES (JACK)
 REZNOR, F.B.I. Agent extraordinaire.  Grimy, unshaven.  The toll
 of days of stakeout.  Take-out cartons and styrofoam cups littered
 around him.

      REZNOR
   Yeah - I'll bet, ya silly bastard...

 A video camera rolls quietly next to him.  His cellular phone
 WARBLES for attention.  He reaches down, flips it on.

      REZNOR
   Reznor ere.  Better be good coz Iv'e gotta gun.

               CUT TO:

 INT. TACTICAL ROOM - F.B.I. H.Q. - WASHINGTON - NIGHT

 An expansive, clean room.  Dozens of manned cubicles, rows of
 computer monitors.  Jim Cameron territory.  Christmas decorations
 break the monotony.

 Reznor's partner JAMES (JACK) COBAIN is in his cubicle on the
 other end, a big F.B.I. logo on the wall behind him.

      COBAIN
   Jack...it's Jack.

               CUT TO:

 INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY (INTERCUT)

 To the side of the video-cam is an odd-looking CCD stills camera.
 Reznor thumbs a remote plunger, takes a few shots.

      REZNOR
   Cobain - what's goin on?  Expected your
   bitch ass hours back...where are you?

 INT. TACTICAL ROOM - F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - DAY (INTERCUT)

 Cobain watches a CNN forest fire disaster on the wall-mounted T.V.
 nearby.

      CNN ANCHOR
     (O.S., on television)
   "-- with close to 400 miles of woodland
   incinerated, Canadian authorities seem
   powerless to halt the blaze and it seems
   like hell is finally catching up with us --"

      COBAIN
   Washington, still.  They pulled the
   pattern.  Got me playing errand boy for
   some Vatican god luvin guy out to the airport.

 INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY (INTERCUT)

 Reznor jacks a wire from the stills-camera into the phone.

      REZNOR
   Shit.  Well, look...get him to say some
   "Hail Marys."  Things are shaking here,
   just like we thought.

 INT. TACTIACAL ROOM - F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - DAY (INTERCUT)

 Cobain shifts in his seat, suddenly alert.

      COBAIN
   Snuff movies?

 INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY (INTERCUT)

 Reznor thumbs an inset button on the camera which illuminates a
 green:  "TRANSMIT."

      REZNOR
   Yeah.  I'm punching what I got through.
   Speaking of things priestly, Paula says I
   should tell you - if you work me tomorrow
   night, your tush is excommunicated. Whats a tush?

 INT. TACTICAL ROOM - F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - DAY (INTERCUT)

 The printer next to Cobain's V.D.U. WHIRRS, spits-out color stills
 from Reznor's camera.

      COBAIN
   I'll consider myself doomed.

      REZNOR
     (V.0.)
   They process our backup yet?

      COBAIN
   Hold a sec.  Uh --

 He cups the mouthpece as somebody (FBI AGENT #1) passes, TOOTING
 an extendable party whistle.  Rifles a tray of paperwork, finds a
 requisition sheet with a SWAT header.  The co-signature is still
 blank.

      COBAIN (cont'd)
   Tanya...this TWAT, er sorry, SWOT request signature?

 A pretty woman looks across from a nearby cubicle.  Shrugs.

      TANYA
   Holidays...cut-backs?  Prob'ly an
   oversight.  Sorry, sir.

      CABAIN
     (back into phone)
   No change then.  Nice pictures...you get a bug
   in there?

 INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY (INTERCUT)

      REZNOR
   Not a hope.  You wouldn't believe the
   scanners these guys use.  Running a laser-
   mike onto their window.

 INT. TACTICAL ROOM - F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - DAY (INTERCUT)

      COBAIN
   Alright.  What I'll do is, rush these
   through Photo Intelligence...drize down
   the second I'm through.

 INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN - DAY (INTERCUT)

      REZNOR
   Deal.  But Jack?  Give SWAT a push.  I got
   a hunch these sickos are about to move.

 INT. TACTICAL ROOM - F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - DAY (INTERCUT)

 Cobain replaces the handset.  Sits back.  Looks at the paperwork.
 Thinks a moment.  Drags out a punch-file marked "S.W.A.T." and
 opens it.  Finds an old requisition.  Glances around to make
 certain nobody's watching, then --

 COPIES THE SIGNATURE.  A perfect forgery.

 The T.V. catches his eye again.  Another CNN disaster.

      CNN ANCHOR
     (O.S.)
   "-- Our top story...a heated skirmish in
   International Waters, Leaving Korea one
   frigate down.  Japan has already been
   threatened with reprisals --"

 Somebody (FBI AGENT #2) slows as he passes the T.V.

      FBI AGENT #2
   Great way to end the Century, huh?

      COBAIN
     (grunts affirmatively)
   World's going to Hell. Literally i think.

 He stabs at a remote.  Flips the channel to WHITE STATIC which --

          MORPH-DISSOLVES THROUGH TO:

 EXT. "PLAIN OF BONES" - HELL - ZERO HOUR

 A DOWNPOUR OF HORIZONTAL RAIN against a dead grey sky.  So subtle,
 we don't get it for a second.  Then --

 The SHOT ROTATES...TILTS.  Swoops dizzyingly 100 feet.  A LONELY
 WIND HOWLS around a figure.  Face upturned, droplets spatter her
 face.  We recogize her:  ALICE JOHNSON, last seen defeating Freddy
 Krueger in "THE DREAM CHILD."  She shivers, her eyes SNAPPING
 OPEN.

      ALICE
     (softly, to herself)
   Where am I?

 She's standing on a PLAIN OF BONES AND SKULLS stretching as far as
 the eye can see, rolling hills on the horizon.  The low sky BOILS,
 a SEETHING BUBBLING REDNESS.  A RUMBLE like an onrushing freight
 train GROWS.  She turns to see --

 A SINGULARITY TORNADO of MULTICOLORED ENERGY THUNDERING towards
 her, just 100 feet away.  Chewing up the landscape...sucking
 "reality" into it.  It's breathtaking, and it sounds like all the
 noises in the world.

 Alice bolts as the worldbehind her CRUMBLES, sucked mightily
 upwards.  Her chest heaves, limbs working.  Then --

 The ground QUAKES and ERUPTS, throwing her off-balance.  She falls
 solidly amongst a flurry of SPLINTERING bones.  Looks up to see --

 THE SINGULARITY, looming large.  Unstoppable.  She SCREAMS --

      ALICE
   Nooooo, bolocks --!

 A GREAT WHITE EXPLOSION hurls her through the air like a ragdoll.
 Her arms flail, and then she IMPACTS HARD with --

 EXT. CRAGGY VERTICAL RACKFACE - HELL - ZERO HOUR (CONTINUING)

 A ROUGHLY-HEWN DARK GRANITE PILLAR perhaps 30 feet square,
 dropping vertiginously away thousands of feet below.  She snatches
 a handhold...it SNAPS away.  Falls about a foot...grabs another.
 Begins a labored ascent...

 EXT. APEX OF PILLAR - HELL - ZERO HOUR (CONTINUING)

 Alice claws her way over the plateau edge.  Lies there, breathing
 heavily.  A sibilant VOICE makes her jump --
 
      DARK VOICE
     (O.S.)
   Aaaaalicccee --

 She stumbles to her feet, finds herself looking out across the
 plain as the Tornado decimates it.  More bones here, a SINGLE
 ARTHRITIC TREE claws upwards, and standing next to it towers  -
-

 SOMEBODY...SOMETHING.  Cloaked.  A vicious bladed scythe clutched
 in one hand, a BOA CONSTRICTOR coiling around the haft.  If we
 didn't know better, we might say it was the GRIM REAPER.

      ALICE
   Yes?  Hello...

 Alice's eyes widen as - with an eerie HISS - the figure turns
 towards her.  But before we see the face --

 A VARIATION ON A FAMILIAR FOUR-PRONGED CARTWRIGHT "DEVICE" curls disturbingly
 around her neck from behind...

          SLAM CUT TO:

 INT. ALICE'S CAR - NIGHT

 JACOB JOHNSON - Alice's nervy 8 year old son - YELLS out in panic
 from the passenger seat.

      JACOB
   Stop the fuckin car!

 Alice jerks awake from her daydream at the wheel to see --

      ALICE
   Shit!

 STATIONARY TRAFFIC on the freeway ahead, materializing at 40 MPH.
 She grips the wheel, mashes the brake pedal hard...

 EXT. FREEWAY - BETHLEHEM - NIGHT

 Alice's red Lexus SKIDS through puddles of rain.  SCREECHES to a
 halt inches from the car in front.

 WIDER NOW, PULLING BACK.  Her car a speck at the rear of the worst
 Friday night gridlock you can imagine.

 INT/EXT. ALICE'S CAR - NIGHT

 Alice sits, hyperventilating.  Grey eyes wide.  We get a better
 look at her now.  Smartly-dressed.  Mid-to-late 20s, mid-length
 strawberry-blond hair.  Cute as a button.

 Her son stares accusingly at her from alongside.

      JACOB
   Mom, you said you weren't stoned!

      ALICE
   No...I...just must have drifted.

      JACOB
   You weren't...high again?  Like before?

 She gives him a look.  Ducks the loaded question.  Peers out
 through the rain- slicked windshield.

      ALICE
   Look at this rain.  Feels like it tailed
   us right from New Jersey.

 She reaches down and flips the radio on.  Gets the news.

      RADIO NEWSCASTER
     (O.S., on radio)
   -- "Bizarre mass cult suicide at a Rio de
   Janeiro soccer stadium, 20,000 estimated
   dead stupid bastards --"
 
      ALICE
   Getting harder to find any uplifting news
   these days.

      JACOB
   That's cause-of it's the "Fin de Sickle."

      ALICE
   The what?

      JACOB
   "Fin de --"

      ALICE
     (pronouncing correctly)
   Ah..."Fin de Siecle"?

      JACOB
   Yea.  Like, when every century ends,
   everything goes totally nutso.  Only this
   time it's worse, cause it's, like, a new
   Millennium too.

      ALICE
     (smiles)
   Pretty slick.  Where'd that come from?

      JACOB
   French class.  Our tea --

 A RUMBLE starts-up, gaining intensity.  A spring-mounted toy bird
 dangling from the rear-view trembles.  The car VIBRATES on its
 suspension, the engine cutting-out.

      JACOB (cont'd)
   Earthquake!  Wow...cool!

 THEIR P.O.V. People scramble from their cars.  A traffic sign
 ahead shakes, a freeway light swaying like a giraffe's neck.

      ALICE
     (gettign frightened)
   Virginia doesn't get quakes!

 Their gaze SNAPS ACROSS as a roadside fire hydrant BLOWS, gushing
 water into  the air.  A high-tension wire above SNAPS with a
 TWANG, Jacob YELLING as --

      JACOB
   Mom!!

 THE SPARKING CABLE hits their roof, HISSING as it writhes.
 Searing the paintwork a couple of times before dropping to the
 roadside and becoming inert. Somthing moves very low overhead
 like an aeroplane would in the same situation. The people in the car
 cannot make out what it is, but we know. It is the U.S.S Tranny.

 The tremor abruptly ends.  Alice grabs Jacob --

      ALICE
   Jeez, are you alright--?!
 
      JACOB
   Think so...

      ALICE
   Sure?

      JACOB
   Yea...
 
      ALICE
   God...that was too freaky.

 She flips the ignition.  Nothing.  Tries it again.  This time the
 engine GRINDS UNPLEASANTLY.

      ALICE
   Oh.  Oh, no...

      JACOB
   What's wrong?

      ALICE
   Our angel must be on coffee-break.  Jake,
   honey...something's wrong.  I'm gonna...
   have to pull us off the next ramp.

 Somebody HONKS behind.  The engine catches, sounds unhealthy.

      JACOB
     (knowingly)
   What did I say?

      ALICE
   Yeah.  Tell me about it --

 EXT. ALICE'S CAR - NIGHT

 We PULL BACK on the livid electrical scars seared into the car's
 rooftop.  Oddly, they resemble...John Cartwright's face.

 A mindful NURSERY RHYME TUNE TINKLESdelicately O.S. as the Lexus
 pulls out onto the freeway turn-off...

               CUT TO:

 EXT. STREET - OUTSIDE FREEMAN HOUSE - BETHLEHEM - NIGHT
 
 Neat identical houses:  Suburban Anywheresville, U.S.A.  A 15ft
 illuminated neighborhood Christmas tree shines like a candystore
 beacon.

 Sheets of rain bead on telephone wires crossign the street.  Drip
 into the tree, FIZZING and FLICKERING the bulbs.

 INT. LIVING ROOM - FREEMAN HOUSE - NIGHT

 An 8 year-old blond girl - STEPHANIE FREEMAN - eats a sandwich
 atop the back of a chaise-longue, face pushed up against the misty
 widow.  Stares wide-eyed as the tree flickers spastically across
 the street.

      STEPHANIE
   Daddy!  The tree isn't working right -- !

 She climbs down, wanders back across the long room.  The
 television plays "The Mask" animated series NOISILY to itself in
 B.G. She glances cursorily at it in passing.

 INT. KITCHEN - FREEMAN HOUSE - NIGHT (CONTINUING)

 Stephanie's parents - STEVEN and JESSICA REEMAN - are in mid-
 argument in the cramped kitchen, a disassembled car gear box
 neatly laid-out on the dining table.

 Steven is an odd blend of bookish and jock, his greasy work
 overalls partially unbuttoned.  His wife is exceptionally
 pretty...at least she would be if she gave herself the chance.
 She seems tired, long blond hair tied back in a ponytail.  Both
 are in their late 20s.

      JESSICA
   Steven, you made a promise!

      STEVEN
   Jess --

      JESSICA
   New Year's, 1999...a fresh Century!  We
   always said we'd celebrate this one
   togeter, regardless of anythin --

      STEVEN
   We will...look - it'll be a fast pick-up.
   Burn rubber first thing, get this guy's
   sump.  Back in plenty of time.  You...
   me...Stephy...a threesome --

      JESSICA
   Ushering-in the "bright new future"?

 She turns away to wash some vegetables at the sink, her tone a
 mixture of cynicism and tired resignation.  Steven stops, frowns.
 Puzzled and somewhat taken-aback.

      STEVEN
   Right.  What are you on again?

 Stephanie appears at the doorway, interrupting the flow.

      STEPHANIE
   Daddy...?

      STEVEN
     (to Jessica, persistent)
   Look, I promised the guy.  Am I missing
   something here -- ?

      JESICA
     (to Stephanie)
   Oh - not now, baby...

      STEPHANIE
     (persistent, to Steven)
   -- Can you fix the tree?

 Stephanie picks the stick-shift up from the table.

      STEVEN
   Which tree?...don't touch that, pumpkin.

 Distracted, Steven takes it from Stephanie, replaces it.  She
 wraps her arms around him.  Pouts petulantly.

      STEPHANIE
   Over the park.  The lights are all sparky,
   look --
 
      JESSICA
   Stephy, Mom and Dad are yammerin --

      STEPHANIE
   Puh-lease?

 She jumps up-and-down.  He ruffles her hair.

      STEVEN
   Weren't you watching T.V.?

      JESSICA
   T.V.'s for squids.

      STEVEN
     (laughs)
   Well...go kill some sailors. I'll get there.

      STEPHANIE
   O-kay...
 
 Stephanie grudgingly leaves.  Steven LAUGHS.
 
      STEVEN
   I swear, that kid's intent on setting the
   whole world to rights.

      JESSICA
   Great.  Have her start here.

 Steven's had it.  Turns to her, baffled.

      STEVEN
   Alright.  You gonna share into this little
   secret?

      JESSICA
   Which'd be what?

      STEVEN
   You, stomping about like a poster ad for
   Prozac.

      JESSICA
   Oh - pull a 360, Steven!  Take a wild stab!

 Steven looks wounded.  This seems to be a familiar routine.

      STEVEN
   C'mon, Jess --

      JESSICA
   No!  No, I've had it!  I'm sic of...of
   clipping coupons...scrimping every cent.
   We've bills up the ying-yang...I want us
   to actually amount to something!

      STEVEN
   Pushing "delete" on one of "America's Most
   Wanted" wasn't enough for one lifetime -- ?

      JESSICA
   It's been eight years since we fried Sean!
   Eight years!  What do we have
   to show for it?

      STEVEN
   We got the autoshop --

      JESSICA
   You seen our bank statements?

      STEVEN
   You know i cannot read...
   We'll pull through --
 
      JESSICA
   Yeah, and it's always around the next
   corner!  Steven, we're sinking into a
   bottomless pit!  I look at other families
   with 'lifestyles'...we don't even manage a
   life!  I spend most of my life under a
   car, up to my elbows in grease and swill!
   third-rate existence!

      STEVEN
   What do you want me to say?  I'm all outta
   easy answers!

 The message pager on Steven's belt BEEPS annoyingly.  He thumbs it
 off, squints at the display.  Looks abashed at Jessica.

      STEVEN (cont'd)
   It's...uh...a call-out --

 Jessica turns away.  Picks up the knife.  Chops mechanically at
 the vegetables like a Stepford wife.

      JESSICA
   You should go.

      STEVEN
     (conciliatory)
   Jess --

      JESSICA
   No. Do it.  We can use the money.

 Steven leaves the kitchen uncertainly.  We HEAR him call out:

      STEVEN
     (O.S.)
   Up for a ride, sweet thing?

      STEPHANIE
     (O.S., excited)
   You bet!

      JESSICA
     (calling after)
   Don't forget your --

 Jessica closes her eyes as the front door BANGS.  Heaves a SIGH,
 instant regret flooding her features.

      JESSICA (cont'd)
     (finishing, redundant)
   -- Keys.  Goddammit, Jess Cartwright --

TO BE CONTINUED....

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