Night Clerk (1) Writer’s Guild of Canada Registration #S98-1281 Writer’s Guild Of America Registration# 138403-00 EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE- NIGHT The store squats in a green-blue pool of fluorescent light and the empty parking lot is a testament to the late hour/early morning. A FIGURE within moves in backlit silhouette between the large faded signs crowding the massive glass windows. A small LATE-MODEL COMPACT CAR chugs its way in from the street. Grey clouds periodically sprout from the tail- pipe, hanging in the crisp late summer air. The car shakes to a stop in front of the store’s doors and two teenagers get out: A WHITE KID and A BLACK KID. The white kid is in full PSEUDO-GANG-BANGER REGALIA, limp-walking his way into the store. The black kid nervously slips up beside him, glancing about, tugging at his baggies. They enter the store. INT. CONVENIENCE STORE- NIGHT The clerk watches them, rolling the MOP-BUCKET back in behind the counter. He has thick collar length black hair, flecked with streaks of gray, belying his mid-30’s face. He steps up behind the counter and leans on its scratched surface, picking up a PENCIL to poke at a CROSSWORD. He watches the SECURITY MIRROR and the smudge shapes whispering at the bottom of the reflective circle. The white kid, ZEF, is busting the black kid (CHARLES)’s balls. ZEF (whispering) Yo-yo Man I thought you down. You ain’t down, you ain’t shit... CHARLES I thought you were joking...I didn’t know you were serious about this... ZEF You such a bitch, yoknowwhati’msaying? Check this shit out. He pulls a shiny 9MM from his coat, waving it under Charles’nose. Charles backs off, palms up, wanting no part of this. CHARLES WHOA!!! ZEF (whispering sternly) Keep you bitch-voice down BITCH! CHARLES I thought we were just gonna scare the guy and take the money. (beat) And stop calling me bitch or you can walk home. ZEF Youse got ta chill homey...see there ain’t no caps in this gak, so be chilling, aw-ight? Charles eyes him warily and, despite his better sense, nods. ZEF (cont’d) (yelling and waving the gun) YEAH NOW DAT’S WHA’M TALKIN’ ‘BOUT!!! He charges down the aisle as Charles hangs back, putting himself between Zef and the door. ZEF (cont’d) (to clerk) YO!!! Yo-yo-yo YO!!!! The clerk, JERRY, calmly turns from his crossword and raises his hands, palms up. ZEF (cont’d) OPEN THE REGISTER!! MAKE WIT THE CASH!! DO IT, DO IT NOW ‘FORE I BUST A CAP KNOWHATIMSAYIN!!!! JERRY (quietly) You boys really want to do this? ZEF A’COURSE BI-ATCH!! YOU STUPID!?! CHARLES (scared now) Hey Hey Zef, man, we should go, we should totally go, like now. I’m serious. ZEF SHUT UP SHUT UP!!! As Zef and Charles scream at each other, Jerry slips out from behind the counter, palms still up. CHARLES ZEF LET’S GO- I’M GOING I’M SERIOUSLY GOING--! ZEF (waves gun at Charles) YOU AIN’T GOING NOWHERE!! NOWHERE!! WE IN THIS TOGETHER BITCH!!! CHARLES DON’T POINT THAT AT ME! AND DON’T CALL ME BITCH, BITCH!! Jerry is steps away from Zef’s turned back. CHARLES (cont’d) YOU ARE SO WALKING HOME!!! (notices Jerry and points) ...hey... Zef spins, snapping the pistol level with Jerry’s chest. ZEF BACK THE FUCK UP! Jerry smiles and steps forward. JERRY (calm,soothing) Stop this before someone gets hurt. Zef backs away from him, becoming desperate, this was not the way this was supposed to happen. ZEF Keep away man keep BACK! THE CASH MAN THE CASH!! CHARLES ZEF YOU GOTTA STOP WE GOTTA GO LETS GO LETS GO MAN-- JERRY He’s right, Zef. You guys should go. I’ll forget about the whole thing Charles loses it, and heads for the door. ZEF WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?! CHARLES I AM GONE! As Zef is distracted Jerry moves closer. JERRY This isn’t the way guys, everybody calm down... –the gun FIRES once, echoing out of the store into the neighborhood beyond. Zef and Charles stand, shocked, staring at the smoking gun. ZEF & CHARLES (as one voice) ...fuck me... Smoke whispers from a HOLE in Jerry’s T-shirt, dead- center in his chest. A plastic SODA-BOTTLE bleeds a brown stream onto the floor ten feet behind Jerry. The WINDOW behind the bottle stand is cracked in a star pattern from the impact. Jerry pokes at his shirt with his index finger, tsk-tsking to himself. There is no blood, no meat nothing that would indicate a wound of any kind. The boys stare, slack-jawed. JERRY I told you guys you didn’t want to do this. He steps towards them. CHARLES (stammering) --but-but-...he-he--you-he--what-- Jerry smiles, the most evil, creepy smile these boys have ever seen. Charles is rooted to the spot, blinking furiously. Jerry takes one step forward and Zef begins shooting, pumping round after round at Jerry, destroying the shelves behind him. The shots that do hit Jerry have no effect, passing through him like he was a ghost. Zef is screaming as he fires, walking backwards, heading for the door. Charles FAINTS dead away unable to comprehend what he is seeing. Zef fires the pistol empty, the chamber clicking as he tries to will more rounds into the magazine. Desperate, he throws the empty pistol at Jerry and spins to escape– –and runs into Jerry. Impossibly he has crossed the room in a blink and now snatches the young man by the collar and lifts him like a ragdoll. Zef squeals like a schoolgirl, slapping at Jerry. Jerry smirks-– --and his face splits and stretches in a moment, flesh pulling too tight over shifting bones, becoming the image of stereotypical DEMON, brought madly to life. ZEF JESUS CHRIST!!!! Jerry/demon roars, baring massive FANGS, lunging as if bite Zef’s head off. Zef’s scream chokes in his throat as he wets himself and faints. Jerry’s face snaps back to its original form. JERRY Typical. He works his jaw as though it is a little sore, gently laying the boy on the floor beside his comatose friend, and then moves to the counter. Crossing in behind, he pulls off his ravaged T-shirt and drops it into a trash bucket. From a drawer he yanks a new SHIRT free and pulls it down over his pale, unmarked flesh. He considers the trash for a moment and then removes the old shirt, tearing it into long strips. He balls the strips up and neatly tosses them with a plop in the mop bucket. JERRY A man’s work is never done. He moves behind the counter and dials 911 on the store phone, turning to check on the still unconscious boys. 911 OPERATOR 911. State the nature of your emergency. JERRY Hey Arleen, it’s Jerry... ARLEEN Not again. JERRY Yep. Same old same old... INT. A DARKENED ROOM-NIGHT Graceful long fingers type rapidly at a keyboard as a series of collected 911 reports scroll by on a screen. One report is automatically highlighted and enlarged. A scruffy long-haired young man, PITCHER, pushes his glasses up on his nose, quickly scanning the report. He grabs at nearby phone, jabbing at the speed-dial button. PITCHER Hey Harris. Finally got something, you should get down here. Yeah, like now- ish. (beat) I am not telling you what to do... He hangs up, scratching at a lop-sided GOATEE, and starts typing, beginning a cross-reference. PITCHER (cont’d) (mumbles) ...jerk... EXT. CONVENIENCE STORE- DAWN RED & BLUE globes strobe from atop two squad cars outside the convenience store. Jerry wanders out of the store, munching on a stick of beef-jerky, accompanied by a rumpled uniform named HARRY. HARRY --you know we should get a discount for the amount of time and money we spend in this joint. JERRY Yeah, right, like you have something else to do. (scans the brightening horizon) Anything else you need from me? (forces a yawn and stretches) My relief is here and I want to go home. A college-age man, SKYLAR, rides up on a MOUNTAIN BIKE, skidding to a stop beside Jerry. SKYLAR Not again, he says. Jerry nods affirmative. HARRY Yeah, okay, I think we got what we need from your statement. We have your number if anything comes up, sames as always. JERRY Thanks boss. Have fun Sky. Skylar snorts and turns to walk his bike into the store. Jerry walks quickly to his car, watching the orange skies. He slips a pair of SUNGLASSES on as he digs his keys out, and approaches a beat-up ‘89 FORD TEMPO. He unlocks it and gets in, starting the car rolling before the door is closed or his seatbelt on. He tries not to be too conspicuous as he speeds out of the lot. HARRY Doesn’t like to stick around does he? The two of them make their way into the store. INT. TWO ROOM BASEMENT APARTMENT-DAWN The sun slinks past ventian blinds, casting orange stripes across a basement apartment. A beautiful woman, KERRY, stands by the kitchen counter, dropping a TEA BAG into a mug. A KETTLE whistles for her attention. She hefts it one-handed, carefully pouring the boiling water into a MUG. She stirs with a spoon in the other hand. Replacing the kettle, she wanders into the small living room, dropping into a old soft COUCH and sinking into the thick cushions. Her eyes stare past the steaming mug, deep in thought. Her mouth, usually turned upward into a extraordinary smile, is a tight line. The apartment door clicks as it is unlocked and squeaks open. She doesn’t turn to see who it is, a crease forming on her forehead. Jerry tiptoes through the kitchen, pulling off his sunglasses and coat. He notices the steam still rising from the kettle, swearing soundlessly and moves into the living room. JERRY (way over the top) HI HONEY! How was your day? He drops the coat into an armchair and sits beside her. She continues to stare over the top of the mug, her face reddening as she grows angrier. Jerry drops the facade, sighing. JERRY (cont’d) Arleen told you, didn’t she? She hurls the mug at a far wall in an explosion of anger. KERRY WHO ELSE WOULD TELL ME ASSHOLE!?! He opens his mouth to answer-- KERRY (cont’d) OF COURSE SHE TOLD ME! She leaps to her feet, moving away from him even as he stands to follow her. JERRY It was no big deal, I’m okay. Have I ever not been okay? KERRY Why do you have to work nights? I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened this year. Eventually your luck will run out. I can’t wait for that to happen. Jerry tries to placate her, moving slowly towards her, hands up and open. JERRY I’m not gonna get hurt, I never get hurt, I can see these things from a mile off. You have to trust me on this. The cops take care of everything. KERRY Do me a favour and stop lying, you’re no good at it. (notices his shirt) Why did you change your shirt? JERRY Huh? Oh, ah, that, well-- KERRY Why? WHY DID YOU CHANGE YOUR SHIRT? JERRY I spilled cleaner on myself, that’s all. You know, hardcore stuff that ruined the shirt, so I threw it out. She gives him a”yeah right” look. Sheepishly, he moves to hold her, pulling her into his arms. KERRY I don’t want to be scared anymore. She hesitates and then lays her head against his chest. JERRY I know, I know sweetie. And I’m sorry. You know I’ve been looking for a new job...but you’re right, I should-- KERRY --you should stop taking risks. This song’s skipping. She pushes away from him... KERRY (cont’d) Things have to change...I mean it this time. I really mean it. JERRY Or what? Disbelieving, she turns and heads into the bedroom, slamming the door. JERRY (cont’d) What? WHAT. Jerry sags like a popped balloon and walks back towards the front door, opening a side closet next to the door. He pulls a ratty BLANKET out along with a PILLOW and heads for the couch. EXT. THE BUREAU- DAY Wedge-shaped, the building is all STEEL,STONE and GLASS, the local headquarters of “The Bureau”. Afternoon sun is reflected as a bright sphere in the glass as AGENTS and EMPLOYEE’s move quickly in and out of the building. INT. THE BUREAU- DAY A compact but stunning REDHEAD strides through the lobby of the building, passing security with a wave of her badge. The male GUARDS eye follow her, shaking their heads softly. What a shame. She knows they’re watching her but doesn’t care, bigger things have pissed her off today. She steams into the elevator, heading up. INT. HALLWAY THE BUREAU- DAY The halls are bustling with agents as she steps out onto the floor, turning left and moving quickly down the hall. She avoids their smirking faces and laughing eyes. A young tall man, WILLIAMS leans out from a water fountain, wiping his face as she approaches. WILLIAMS Hey Sculler, how’s Mould-- (she slams him against the wall) -EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! Her forearm is pressed against his throat. MORSE That’s really funny FUCKING HILARIOUS I haven’t heard enough of that, so please, go on. The man looks like he is going to wet himself. WILLIAMS (choking) ---just a joke-- DAVIES AGENT MORSE!!!! She turns, spotting a dapper OLDER MAN standing half out of an open door. MORSE Sir! He waves her over and disappears inside the doorway. She gives her victim one last shove and releases him, walking quickly towards the open door and slipping inside. The hall is silent as the crowd watches the young man collects himself, trying to control his embarrassment. The door closes behind her. INT. DAVIES’ OFFICE THE BUREAU- DAY It is a large office, tastefully decorated, three of four walls holding a dark hardwood shelf filled with books A large(but not overly so) OAK DESK sits before a wall of glass, opposite the door. The glass is tinted against spies and the sun. Davies is leaning back in his chair, fingertips pressed together before his face. Morse is standing just inside the door, fuming. DAVIES (considers her a moment) Please. Sit. MORSE No thanks. DAVIES Sit down agent. She does so reluctantly, crossing her arms and glaring at him. They sit in silence a moment, their eyes locked. Finally she snorts, grins and looks away. MORSE Ok, you got me. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? DAVIES You’ve been transferred. MORSE Why? DAVIES You know why, don’t play dumb, agent. MORSE Are you kidding? That was nobody else’s business! DAVIES Correct. But next time, sleep with the boss’s husband, not the boss. She gives a whatchya gonna do? shrug. DAVIES (cont’d) This is not a decision up for discussion, Morse. You know that. You have a new department and a new partner. MORSE Where? Who? DAVIES Well... INT. HALLWAY THE BUREAU- DAY MORSE (SCREAMING) WHAT!!!!????!!! INT. TWO ROOM BASEMENT APARTMENT-DAY Jerry sleeps uncomfortably, hanging half off the couch, the knuckles of one hand brushing against the carpet. He mumbles, incoherent halfwords, as sweat beads on his face. He tosses and turns sporadically, very much in throes of an unpleasant dream. A single word is clear. JERRY Genvieve. MONTAGE-JERRY’S DREAM Jerry has a nightmare of strobing images:A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN dressed circa mid-1700’s america, blood, grotesque slimy fangs, flashes of horrific violence. The woman reaches out from the vision only to be struck down in a red mist. INT. TWO ROOM BASEMENT APARTMENT-DAY Jerry bolts upright, nearly falling of the couch. He rubs his eyes with shaking hands, trying to calm down. His face is covered with a whatthehellwasthat look. He reacts with a start as the bedroom doorknob clicks softly as it turns. The door opens a about a foot, forming a black rectangle of invitation. A flash of white skin flickers in the doorway and is gone. Jerry takes a deep breath. Standing, he then pads into the bedroom. EXT. THE BUREAU- DAY Afternoon sun bakes the stone & glass wedge like a bleached bone. INT. AN ELEVATOR THE BUREAU- DAY The elevator car descends quickly, falling floor after floor. The buttons are double digits, starting well below ground level. A CARDSWIPE and RETINAL SCAN SYSTEM is built-in above the buttons. This is not a public car. Morse stands rigidly, grinding her teeth. Her arms are crossed tightly, fingernails biting into the dark fabric of her suit. The car slows as it reaches its destination, announcing arrival with a quiet ding. Muffled noises, held back by the doors, are unleashed with a hissing sound. INT. THE BASEMENT THE BUREAU- DAY People and equipment vye to be heard in the din. A FORTYISH MAN in a dark suit is waiting for her, as other people of all kinds bustle behind him. He smiles as he extends his hand to her. HARRIS Welcome, Agent Morse, I’m Agent Harris. She steps into a room dominated by a large glass wall, separating them from another, larger room below. INT. SURVEILLANCE -THE BUREAU- DAY The room they look down on is like mission control on steroids. A massive bank of PROJECTION SCREENS monitor hundreds of orbiting satellites. Dozens of VIDEO FEEDS flash by every few seconds. The room seems like a black hole of information, monitoring the whole world at once. INT. THE BASEMENT THE BUREAU- DAY Morse is dutifully impressed, evenly grinning a bit. MORSE Maybe this job won’t be that bad after all. HARRIS Agent! He is standing beside a scruffy door, leading away from the din. She walks over, perplexed. HARRIS (cont’d) I apologize, it’s over here. She steps into a small room and he follows, closing the door, cutting off the cacophony outside. INT. A CLOSET -THE BUREAU -DAY It is a cramped, dusty room. The only light is from a SMALL DESK LAMP and a PC MONITOR SCREEN. Pitcher squints at the screen, unaware of their presence. Harris coughs, startling the man. HARRIS Pitcher, meet agent Morse. She’s joining the team. Morse is slackjawed a moment. MORSE Team!?! This is two guys in a broom closet. (Her temper flares) I DON’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!! She kicks a SHELVING UNIT, rattling some spare COMPUTER PARTS around.
Copyright © 2001 Robin Taylor |