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Presidential Peril
by S.W. Oyler (swou223@yahoo.com)

Rated: R   Genre: Action/Adventure   User Review:

In a violent America, a polarizing anti-gun Presidential hopeful, is targeted for assassination by a rogue militia on the eve of the Presidential election and must outwit and outrun the militia and overcome his own fear of guns in hopes of surviving not only to see the election, but his family too.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.


The sun rises. BIRDS CHIRP.
A football's nose barely edges outward amongst a beautiful
collage of fallen leaves that clutter the front yard. A cool
new 70's sedan glimmers, idle in the driveway. Two Schwinn
mag bicycles parked on the sidewalk. One seat a tick higher
than the other.

A RED barn rises out of the field beyond the back yard.
BLAM! A single shot ECHOES throughout! Birds take flight!
Animals scatter.
An innocent young BOY rockets from the barn. The boy studies
his blood smeared hands. Tears pour from his blue eyes.
Panic plastered on his face.

The boy reaches the house. FLINGS the DOOR open, his
bloodied hands leaving their mark. The boy darts inside...
A female lets out an EAR PIERCING SCREAM!
Sun fills the blue sky. The mercury ready to burst.
Impoverished kids play stickball in the street.
TV ANCHORMAN reports the evening news. (V.O.)
                       TV ANCHORMAN (On TV)
Good evening America, I'm Kendra
King. Presidential hopeful Michael
Fisch continues to gain momentum
and cut into the commanding lead
the President once enjoyed.
Multiple GUNSHOTS emanate from within the apartments.
A second story WINDOW SHATTERS. BULLETS WHIZ by the kids.

The kids scatter! The ball dribbles down the street.
Police give chase to bank robbers. GUNFIRE erupts.
Bystanders panic and dive to the ground.


A newspaper on the sidewalk reveals the days headline: "GUN
                       TV ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
      (On TV)
The current administration, like
so many previous to this one, has
focused more on international
issues and the economy, while
turning a shoulder to gun violence
prevalent in today's America.
A woman is yanked from her M class BMW. The TEENAGER pushes
the .45 pistol into her hair covered face. The woman
trembles. The teenager smirks and races off in her car.
                       TV ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
      (On TV)
Fisch's stance on the 2nd
Amendment, and his ability to
listen to what matters most to
Americans, has made him one of the
most polarizing candidates to run
for President, maybe ever.
The BELL RINGS. Kids pour out of school. They head into a
long line of school buses.

A group of JUNIOR HIGH GANG BANGERS argue across the street.
The argument intensifies. Guns are pulled. Reckless GUNFIRE
erupts! BULLETS Spray towards the --
School buses! WINDOWS SHATTER! METAL BURSTS inwards. Kids
dive onto the floor. SCREAMS engulf the buses.
GANG BANGING teens scuffle and argue. Guns are drawn. POLICE
CARS SCREECH to a halt in the driveway. GUNFIRE exchanged.
Two teens fatally wounded.

A POLICE OFFICER turns to his peers. His eyes slowly look


down. His gaze fixed on his bloody hands. Shock covers his
face. He drops to his knees, then collapses in the driveway.
                       TV ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
      (On TV)
With the Presidential election
only two months away, keep it
right here for the latest in the
race for the White House.
A Presidential Candidate's motorcade travels thru the city
streets. Waves of SUPPORTERS passionately CLAP and CHEER.
MICHAEL FISCH, 40's, with hair made for T.V., bedroom blue
eyes and the look of an Olympian, not a politician, manages
multiple communication devices at a furious pace.
Michael tosses a phone to his CAMPAIGN MANAGER GRIFFIN
"COOP" COOPER, 50's, a bad comb over enhances the years of
nutritional neglect, as he converses via BLUE TOOTH.
Cooper awkwardly snags the phone with his iron fists.
With his off hand, Michael skims over data on a tablet. He
continues to listen on the phone.
                       MICHAEL (to Cooper)
Twitter is going nuts over another
school shooting.
Michael's jaw drops! His eyes grow wide.
Cooper focuses on Michael. Uncertainty plasters his face.
                       MICHAEL (over phone)
Shit! Are you serious?
      (rubs his forhead)
You make sure to tell her she
needs to be more careful!
Cooper's gaze is broken by the mob of supporters. He grins
and leans to MEDIA ADVISOR NAOMI ANGEL, 25, a bubbly ASIAN
KNOCKOUT, who intently studies campaign data on her tablet.
                       DENISE (V.O.)
This is too much for us Michael,
you just don't see it yet.


                       MICHAEL (over phone)
I don't want to hear that! Figure
out what you need to do.
      (glares at Cooper)
Give our girls hugs for me. Tell
them I love them.
Michael presses end. The phone gets tossed.
What is it this time?
Michael pauses, He snatches his phone back up and starts to
text. Michael presses send.
Abby injured herself. I'm trying
to keep my kids safe and Denise
just lets them run a muck.
Michael's PHONE makes a PING! The text reads: Thanks Papa!:)
Naomi, can you pick out a stuffed
-- oh anything for Abby? You know,
to pick her spirits up.
Michael slips his phone into his pocket. Adjusts his tie.
Aww... That's sweet. I'd love to.
Buy the largest one they have.
Hey you two, let's talk crowd
control and safety, shall we?
Michael nods. He peers through the window at the mob.
                       COOPER (To Michael)
Mike... Mike!
      (Michael turns to
Hey, I get it. The enormous crowds
are impressive and we are almost
there, but I need you to focus.
And your point is?


Shit Mike -- Security and your
personal safety God Dammit! It
potentially could get bloody!
Naomi looks up. She raises her hand slow.
Yes... Speak up.
I think what Cooper is saying is,
you are making the millions of NRA
members nervous.
Nervous? Hell, they are freaked
out! And because of that, it's his
ass on the line. He reached out to
me and I'm trying to help, but
Jesus Christ!
They better be nervous. I guess
you could say, I’m “gunning”
for them. Americans have finally
decided gun control is what
matters most to them at long last.
Losing isn’t an option for us. I
have to win this!
GRADE SCHOOL kids dart in and out of the small, cluttered
front yards. They play cops and robbers with toy guns.

The smallest, sneaks behind some bushes. An intense GROWL
startles him. Eyes wide, he turns his head slow.

Two unusual signs affixed to a gate catch his eye. Beads of
sweat streak down his face. Shaking, he reads the two signs.
"BEWARE OF GUNS" and an ordinary "BEWARE OF DOG" sign,
altered with the word "REALLY" scribbled on it.

An enormous ROTTWEILER on the other side of the fence GROWLS
ferociously. The DOG BARKS at the small boy as he flees.
                       DUNCAN (O.S.)
Eastwood! Move your fat ass! And
somebody turn that shit off before
I put a bullet in it!


POW! T.V. EXPLODES as a BULLET rips thru it. Smoke quickly
dissipates, to reveal -- A backyard barbeque.
MATT STARK, late 20's, slender but ripped, flings his 9mm
down on the table. The T.V. continues to SPARK.
ROTTWEILER BARKS and GROWLS ferociously at the gate. Saliva
oozes from his mouth.
                       DUNCAN (O.S.)
Eastwood turns and runs to the...
Eastwood runs by JOHN DUNCAN, the most intimidating,
snarling, gargantuan fifty year old you will run into.
Duncan throws down a beer. He flips steaks on the grill with
a knife even Rambo would cherish.
Obey me Eastwood, or the next
barbeque we'll eat hot dogs.
RANDY SIMMONS, 30's, arms draped in tattoos, takes a long
drag from his cigarette and coolly exhales.
Neighbors peak over the fence to see the commotion. An
agitated Duncan stabs the meat with the knife. He reaches
for Stark's 9mm pistol -- COCKS it.
                       DUNCAN (to neighbors)
Mind your own fucking business!
The neighbors duck out of sight. Duncan scowls. He sets the
pistol down.
                       DUNCAN (to the group)
Jesus Christ! That's why we build
fences. It's a deterrent from us
having to shoot nosey neighbors!
BRETT HOLLISTER, 30's, flashes his bald fade as he adjusts
his backwards camo baseball cap. An American Flag plastered
on the front.


This is true. Speaking of annoying
people, where's the boys?
A Black SUV SCREECHES to a halt. Smoke pours from the tires.

Out steps ADAM BRIGHTWOOD, a bear sized man with a chiseled
frame and boyish looks. And DANNY SAFER, a little on the
slender side, both early 20's.

Neighbors on-look with concern. The two men saunter into --
Into the backyard. They bump into Stark, toting the T.V.
Missed the fireworks.
Who pissed off Duncan this time?
Thankfully, not one of us.
Brightwood and Safer greet their buddies.
Hey you bitches, you see that
A-Hole Fisch thinks he's gonna
take Duncan's guns!
Hey! Brightwood, don't make the
mistake of confusing my
relationship with your uncle and
you. He's a veteran of this
country. Then there's you. Your
contributions to this country are
as long as your pecker.
Brightwood's eyes slowly gaze downward. The group chuckles.


You're right big boy! We don't
need a ban on assault rifles, we
need a ban on politicians!
Don't go calling me boy!
Hollister ignores Brightwood.
Duncan finishes up. Tosses a steak on his plate.
Thanks for waiting assholes!
Everyone looks up. Jittery. Duncan takes a seat at the
table. Surgeon like, he slowly cuts into his steak.
Society is raising a shit ton of
pussies that believe every dispute
is handled thru dialogue. Not
force or even the threat of force.
Kinder and gentler our youth is
becoming. That approach don’t
work for me!
Duncan studies the steak. He hastily throws it into his
agape mouth. Blood oozes out as Duncan chews.
So when you have a candidate who
pampers America and tells them how
he can save them from themselves,
well here's where we are.
Duncan methodically chews his steak. He wipes his mouth with
his arm. Crimson smudges streak across it.
Eastwood circles the table as he begs for scraps of meat.
      (Still chewing)
Look, if I had my way, I would cap
Fisch before he even had a chance
to become President! I mean I want
that son of a bitch DEAD! How's
that for bold?
The GROUP HOWLS at the thought. EASTWOOD BARKS loudly.


A neurotic Safer fumbles his steak into his lap. Eastwood
makes a bee line for his crotch. Safer attempts to stop
Eastwood, but doesn't. He doubles over the table in pain.
Duncan yanks on Eastwood's collar. He frees Safer.
Saved your life kid! You owe me!
Safer checks all his major organs -- Below the belt.
Duncan kicks Eastwood, smirks at Safer and walks --
-- Into the den. A military size cache of weapons clutter
the place. Duncan surveys the room. His gaze stops at the
sniper rifles displayed on the wall. He whips out his cell,
makes a call.
Michael campaigns outside a gun store. Bars occupy the
windows in this poverty stricken city.

A mostly partisan crowd listens enthusiastically. A wall of
police line the street.
                       AUDIENCE MEMBER
Mr. Fisch, why should Americans
give up our right to bear arms
after two hundred plus years?
                       MICHAEL (into mic)
Great question! Let's say someone
breaks into your home. They
stumble across your gun collection
and steal a gun.
The crowd listens. They fan themselves to keep cool.
A wave of pro gun supporters arrive at the rally. The crowd
swells. Michael is swarmed. Tension starts to escalate.
GUN SHOP OWNER, 50's, short rotund individual with a graying
beard, personal hygiene an afterthought, opens his gun shop
door and defiantly SHOUTS at the Presidential Candidate.


                       GUN SHOP OWNER
Pack up your circus and scram!
Protesters move in. Supporters start to push back. Police
attempt to bring about calm.
Naomi quickly opens a limo door and slides in. She peers
outward thru the tinted glass at the chaotic scene.
Cooper hunches down and crawls behind the podium. Rat like,
he peers out from behind. His jaw lowered at the hysteria.
People please!
MALE SUPPORTER is shoved into a Secret Service Agent. Secret
Service Agent quickly turns and draws his weapon. Finger on
the trigger. He aims.
Michael's eyes wide, he LUNGES at the Secret Service Agent.
                       MICHAEL (screams)
Please don't!
Secret Service Agent freezes. He grips his pistol tightly.
He pushes the pistol forward. A scowl smeared onto his face.
MALE SUPPORTER cowers. Hands high in the sky.
Look! He's of no harm. Holster
that, will ya?
Secret Service Agent UNCOCKS his PISTOL. He lowers it to his
side. He nods to Michael.
SHOUTING continues. Petty shoving transpires. Mounted
patrols and additional troops bring calm to the madness.
Thank you, everyone.
Disheveled, Michael composes himself.
Economic disparity continues to
strangle our country and that
breeds crime. America, we can
smother crime, by severing it’s
ugly head.


Michael points directly at the gun shop.
Gun shop owner quickly jumps back inside. SLAMS the DOOR
shut. He continues to watch thru the barred up window.
That, is the ugly head! As your
President, and with your full
support, I accept that challenge.
Michael takes a hold of two of his supporters hands and
together he raises them. Loud APPLAUSE erupts. Rants by the
pro gun supporters, drowned out by it.
The crowd continues to CHEER Michael on. He waves and starts
to sign autographs. Coop yanks Michael's arm.
Mike... Let's get you out of here.
No photo op today.
God Dammit! I need these moments.
Michael resists.
You need to stop for a moment and
take a look around you Mike. This
isn't a padded room next to a rose
garden with Mozart playing in the
background. This is the battle
zone. We need to pick our spots.
This isn't one of them.
Michael turns and waves to his supporters.
Michael, engulfed in a sea of Secret Service Agents, is
rushed to his limo.
Back to school banners hang throughout the dilapidated gym.
Children make their way up to the stage to APPLAUSE.
Michael and two Secret Service Agents enter thru a side
door. They watch the performance from the back of the gym.
Michael enthusiastically claps for his daughter ABBY FISCH,
a 5th grader, as she makes her way to the stage. A large
gauze band-aid on her head. Abby smiles.


Parents and children mill around the gym. They exchange
hello's and thank you's with one another.
Parents shake hands with Michael as he politely makes his
way to his family.
DENISE FISCH, late 30's, rail thin and still attractive, but
look no further than her long overdue pedicure and Anne
Klein knock offs to realize motherhood and a Presidential
campaign have been quite taxing on her, spots Michael
amongst the crowd.
Michael. A little something from
the girls.
Denise romantically shuffles towards Michael.
Denise hesitates. She studies Michael's face. She hands
Michael an elegant flower arrangement and embraces him
tightly. She looks up at Michael, concerned.
Thanks Denise, but right about now
I need votes, not flowers.
Michael... I should tell you to go
to hell, but I'm sure there's
something to this, yes?
Nothing more than the weight of
this campaign. Death hovers over
my ever step Denise, I feel it.
You think dear? You aren’t
pushing social security or welfare
reform. Guns are gospel in this
Michael pulls away.
I didn't sign up for political
suicide. This has been a long road
and we are almost there. Are you
still on board?


Yes, but not to become a widow!
I'll manage this. Look Denise, I
need you with me on the campaign.
      (She bites her
Again? Michael you know how hard
this is for me and the kids. I
want to support you, but...
Aren't we being a little selfish?
Get over it and help the cause!
Outrage populates Denise's face. She swiftly turns away.
Michael's other daughter, JORDAN FISCH, second grade, waves
with excitement as she darts to her father.
Hi Papa, we've missed you so much!
Michael kneels down and hugs Jordan.
I've missed all of you too. You
girls mean so much to me.
Abby runs to her parents.
Papa! How was my singing?
Michael kneels down to hug Abby. She playfully rubs her
hands thru his hair. The two laugh. Michael starts to return
the favor, but the gauze wrap on her head reminds him
Abby, please be careful. I don't
want anything to happen to you.
I understand Papa. It only hurts
when I hit it. What about my


Your singing was fantastic!
And look what I have here -- Michael produces two stuffed
something or others from behind his back. One for each girl.
A stuffed animal! Thanks Papa!
Abby squeezes it tightly.
Thank you Papa.
Michael checks his watch, snatches his cell phone.
Yikes! I have a plane to catch.
Jordan, take care of your sister.
Jordan looks at Abby. She snickers.
I suppose I should drop the girls
off at mom's house tonight.
How long this time?
Michael scrolls thru his cell phone. He ignores Denise.
Michael, I love you, but this gun
reform issue is your fight.
The girls tug on Denise's jacket.
Mama, can we go home now?
      (ignoring the tugs)
How long Michael?
Denise, we're so close. Don't you
want to see gun reform? I know
this is accomplishable.
Certainly, but at what price?


                       SS AGENT (O.S.)
Mr. Fisch, your plane.
Michael kisses his daughters. Denise submits to Michael as
he kisses her forehead.
There is no price to great to
protect our girls.
Michael is swiftly escorted from the building, flanked by
two Secret Service Agents.
Denise is left with two restless girls as they tug on her
clothes. She watches Michael disappear thru a doorway.
Duncan flips the "OPEN" sign that hangs in the window and
rotund and suffering from Napoleon complex, chokes on his
mouthful of chew.
                       GREG (O.S.)
Shit! Somebody's gonna Pay!
Greg pushes his .45 from the PIT underneath the car in
Duncan's direction.
Easy man, it's Duncan.
                       GREG (O.S.)
Bout blew your head clean off!
Duncan tosses Greg a beer, still under the car.
What's up with the NRA?
PFFFT! Greg OPENS the beer CAN. Quickly throws it down.
                       GREG (O.S.)
They're going sideways! Their
rally's and anti-campaign tactics
haven't done shit!
Greg climbs out from underneath the car.


That's bullshit! With the millions
of members in the NRA and the
millions more spent on the
campaign, they're only having a
minimal effect?
Senior leadership has been in flux
since the airplane crash early
this year.
We just might have to facilitate a
change ourselves.
We could easily pull this off, but
there might be another option.
Michael and a Secret Service Agent exit a Limousine. A
funeral a ways down catches Michael's gaze.
Wait here!
Michael makes his way up a hill. He stops at a elegant
tombstone. The name reads: Sean Anthony Fisch. Taken from
our hearts at such a young age.
Michael lowers his head. He clenches an object, hesitates.
He places the object on the tombstone.
      (Tear streams down
Nice to see you again bro.
The object is revealed. A .45 shell casing. Michael retreats
to the limo. A GUST of wind SWEEPS thru. He re-enters the --
To the airport.
Michael's CELL PHONE BLEATS. He picks it up.


                       MICHAEL (over phone)
Hey Denise.
                       DENISE (V.O.)
I'll be in Philly with you. Coop
pushed back my Florida trip.
                       MICHAEL (over phone)
OK. Now we are making progress.
And the girls?
Michael glances at the newspaper. The headlines read:
"FISCH; IT'S NOW OR NEVER!" Underneath in smaller print:
                       DENISE (V.O.)
Where else? My moms! She's not cut
out for this. Mom's been great,
but I can't keep pawning the girls
off on her. It's not right.
                       MICHAEL (over phone)
The campaign's almost over. This
is our last push.
                       DENISE (V.O.)
I just don't know how much more I
can give?
                       MICHAEL (over phone)
This isn't about me, it's about a
country! You used to believe in
me... in us. You still do, right?
Michael listens --
Greg enters the lobby of an office building. His outfit
reeks of red neck. Nicely framed Posters of gun programs are
displayed thru-out.

LUCAS SHAW, 50's, a tad overweight with glasses, but wears a
suit nicely, approaches Greg. The two men shake hands.
Good to see you again.
Greg nods. The two men walk down a hallway and enter --


Posters of past NRA Presidents line the walls. Greg pauses.
Lucas takes a seat. Greg peers into the hallway. He
cautiously closes the door and blinds.
They sit opposite at a large oval office table. The table
gleams with their reflection.
We need to have a little chat.
Direct. You haven't changed.
      (removes his
You know the NRA doesn't endorse a
plan of action like this.
Fine, but what if they're members?
We can be appreciative of the fact
that most militia are NRA members,
the NRA has never, nor will they
ever, support the removal of a
politician and definitely not a
Presidential candidate.
Sure, you say that while you're
here, in this building, but what
do you think when you're home, or
at the range? America will be much
different if he's elected.
Greg, you seem a bit desperate.
Desperate! Shit, Shaw, I'm being
realistic! He can't win!
With our programs and the teaching
of responsible gun ownership, he
won't be able to fool America.
He's been doing a fairly good job
of that already.


Greg, don't do something that you
will regret! I know you. You're
far too impulsive!
Greg SLAMS his FIST on the table.
I'm sorry that we couldn't help
you. Have a nice flight home.
Shaw pushes his glasses back up on his nose. Shaw gazes at
the bulging veins on Greg's head. Concerned.
The Fisch's campaign outside of a urban strip mall. A high
end gun shop behind them. A "SORRY WE'RE CLOSED" sign hangs
from the window. A video game arcade a few doors down.

Dark rain clouds develop on the horizon. Wind intensifies.

Media HELICOPTERS BUZZ overhead while an army of media swarm
about on the ground. Police and Secret Service cautiously
watch for trouble. The crowd chants "NO MORE GUNS".
Denise falls behind Michael. She's distracted by the
BOISTEROUS sounds of two grade school boys. Both play a
violent 3rd person SHOOTING VIDEO GAME at the...
Two boys CHEER loudly. POW! POW! The boys SHOOT at their
enemies. The boys reach the high score. They start to SHOUT
and PUSH each other. Both wanting to play. Denise quickly
looks around, she separates the boys. They flee.
Michael looks for Denise. He motions for her.
Denise! Walk with me!
Denise dismisses the outburst and rejoins Michael. They
stroll gracefully by supporters, waving and signing
autographs. Smart phones in overdrive.
In the back of the crowd, a hardened MUSCULAR MALE, 50's,
and sporting a red jacket, lurks. His gaze fixated on


Michael. Veins in his forehead bulging!

The muscular male's hands fidget with anticipation. He
gradually creeps closer. Michael his only focus.
Police struggle to keep the crowd under control when --

An opening! The muscular male seizes the moment. He LUNGES
towards Michael and SLASHES at Michael's neck.

His hand opens up to reveal a concealed razor blade welded
onto an ordinary looking ring, but...

An over zealous supporter stumbles on a camera cable and
bumps Michael. The razor blade SLICES Michael's arm.

Michael stumbles backwards onto the ground. He grasps his
bloody arm.
Denise! I've been cut!
The muscular male stands over Michael, ENRAGED. He slashes
at Michael again.
                       STRIP MALL SS AGENT JEANS
He's got a blade! Get his hand,
get his hand.
STRIP MALL SS AGENT JEANS, 30's, grabs the muscular male's
hand. He spins him around, wrenching the muscular male's arm
behind his back. The muscular male grimaces with pain.

Law enforcement SURROUND Michael. Weapons drawn.
MICHAEL! You're bleeding!
Someone help my husband!
                       STRIP MALL SS AGENT 2 (into mic)
Fisch has been hurt! Get the
Screams and confusion have consumed the campaign chants. The
crowd flees in all directions. Supporters are pushed into
one another. Some are thrust to the ground. As the commotion
intensifies, people are trampled.


Four Secret Service Agents tackle the muscular male. They
confiscate the RING BLADE. The muscular male RESISTS. Strip
Mall SS Agent jeans handcuffs him. Together they stand him
up. His JACKET PULLED over his HEAD.
                       STRIP MALL SS AGENT 2
Take this P.O.S to the car. Fisch,
you OK?
Yeah, I think I'll be OK. Stings
like hell though!
Denise applies a make shift tourniquet to Michael's arm from
the scarf she was wearing. Michael watches in amazement.
Supporters capture the event on mobile media devices.
Reporters SNAP photos and video. Police SHIELD the VICTIM.
STOP IT! Stop recording my husband
and help him!
Several police officers violently force the muscular male
into a squad car. They SLAM the DOOR.
Ambulance arrives. Several more POLICE CARS follow. They
help Michael and Denise into the ambulance. It RACES off.
Secret Service follow.
Michael sits atop the bed. NURSE stitches his gruesome wound
up. Michael grimaces as she cinches the stitches tighter.

Two Secret Service Agents stand guard outside the room.
Denise paces back and forth. She bites her nails.
Michael look around you. This is
exactly what I was afraid of.
It's just a knife wound. Relax!
Seriously? At this rate, you'll be
dead before the election!


Nurse finishes Michael's stitches. She exits the room.
Michael slips his bloodied shirt back on.

Denise gazes at Michael. Eyes welling up. She turns away.
I... I thought I could get thru
this, but I'm not sure anymore.
You've put me in a tough spot.
Michael hops down. Shirt still open. He takes a hold of
Denise's face with his hands and looks deep into her eyes.
In every person's life, there are
only a few events that alter their
lives forever! This candidacy is
that event for me, for us. I know
in my heart, that this is what I'm
supposed to do with my life.
Denise swats Michael's hands away. Michael winces. Denise
smears the tears on her cheeks with her hand.
Michael, it's obvious that your
campaign promise is so white hot,
that the anti-gun zealots don't
want to give democracy a chance.
This puts you in the middle of
their cross-hairs!
Michael turns his back to Denise. He buttons his shirt.
We've disagreed over this for how
long now? I --
AGENT NICHOLAS "NICK" DAKOTA, 40's well groomed, enters the
room. He pulls the curtain back.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
      (business like)
Mike, Denise, am I interrupting?
Nick! Jesus C --
Denise shoots a stern look Michael's direction.
Both Michael and Denise turn to each other. Michael pauses,
a sliver of a smile cracked, he shakes Agent Dakota's hand.


Holy sh --
      (Michael catches
It's been...
I can't really say. Several
Christmas cards ago, right?
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Yes, for sure and hopefully many
more, as I am now in charge of
your security detail.
Oh Nicholas, this is great news,
because Michael wouldn't have made
it to the election otherwise.
Agent Dakota smiles and winks at Denise.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Relax, it's over now.
      (looks at Michael)
Realize though that this could
have been real ugly, had it not
been for a inch either way.
Do you know who did this?
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Some loner who wants to be famous.
To make a statement!
Well it worked. With all the cell
phones and media. The video will
go viral, if it hasn't already!
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Well although this isn't the ideal
situation, we will recover. Your
campaign team will have some
damage control to perform.
Nicholas I'm really trying to be
supportive of Michael, but I don't
plan on raising our kids as a
single mother either.


                       AGENT DAKOTA
I'm following you Denise. I'm
prepared to increase Mike's
security to Presidential levels.
Michael tucks his shirt in. Pulls his jacket on.
Nick, I don't need more agents!
What I need is for your people to
do their God Damn jobs! I do agree
with Denise that this smells more
and more like amateur hour.
Michael kicks the chair. It rockets out onto the hallway. A
doctor peaks inside. Secret Service closes the door.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Do you want to win the election?
You worry about the campaign and
I'll handle your security.
Guys, calm down. Please!
Michael paces. PING. He reads a text from his CELL PHONE.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
The biggest difference is a much
larger motorcade with more agents
available to us. There are some
things that we need to do better
too and we will.
Michael, I'm sure the average
American won't notice.
I get it, I really do, but every
time I'm in public, I can't be
surrounded by bodyguards. That
doesn't promote a safe America.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
We all have your best interest in
mind, but safety is a priority.
Forgive me, but I need to leave.
Michael marches towards the door.


Where are you going?
Hospitals aren't my thing.
      (rubs his arm)
Brief Coop on the security
details, if you would please.
Michael exits the room.
Understand this. I will not allow
my message to be compromised. No
one is going to get in my way! Am
I making myself clear?
Denise starts to chase Michael. Agent Dakota snags Denise.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Denise, let him cool off.
Denise hangs her head. She glances down at her phone.
It's our girls Nicholas. Hopefully
they haven't seen Michael's latest
video on social media.
Gun safes occupy one corner. Gun racks another. Military
photos of Duncan adorn the walls. A real military feel.
Duncan enters. Expressionless.
Even work sucks! Nothing's going
my way lately!
Bad news?
The polls have it too close to
call. Fisch could win this thing!
God damn NRA! If they would only
do their jobs!


Easy Adam.
They've done a shitty job of
convincing America that there are
responsible gun owners. Now we get
to pay the price!
Hey... Boy! Shut the hell up!
Duncan rises. Towers over the room. Brightwood KICKS his
CHAIR back. Rises quickly. Hand on his pistol. Eye to eye.
The room silent. Tension builds.
You draw it, you use it! That's
our mantra.
Brightwood pauses. Looks at his fellow militia... Swallows.
                       DUNCAN (to Brightwood)
Know what you are talking about
before trashing the NRA.
Politicians clouding the truth is
the real reason.
Duncan yanks his knife from his belt and raises it quickly
to Brightwood's face. Brightwood's eyes are locked on the
path of the blade as Duncan dances it about.
They manipulate certain
demographics for political gain.
Duncan swiftly nicks Brightwood's left ear. Brightwood
flinches and clutches his ear. He studies the smeared blood
on his hand.
I told you boy. You draw it. You
use it. It's that simple.
Brightwood grabs his chair. He sits down as he pouts.
As a militia we have the right to
protect America and America needs
us right now. To protect America,
we have only one choice...
Eliminate Fisch!


Heads nod in agreement. Brightwood stares down at the table.
Hollister holds up a newspaper. Fisch on the cover with
cross-hairs scribbled on it.
Duncan looks each member over. Intimidating.
Not a word of this!
      (slams fist on
We've fallen off the media's
radar. Oklahoma City was a long
time ago. Let's not wake a
sleeping monster. You can bet your
ass, that the left wing media in
this country will paint a god
awful picture of us. We won't want
to be in a militia, maybe not even
an American.
Safer glances at the newspaper. An article catches his eyes.
Is this even doable?
Hell yes! It'll be like shooting
fish in a barrel.
Well played!
Hollister grins. He high fives Stark.
I'm just saying. Assassinating a
Presidential Candidate. I'm not
too sure --
We said we can do this!
Fisch is a media darling. There is
no other choice! Fisch's passion
for eradicating guns is unmatched.
We must stop him, or else...
Safer shrugs his shoulders. Nods.


How do we do this?
This will be a masterpiece!
Two vans sit in an empty parking lot of a warehouse. Roll up
doors go on and on. Trailers parked against the doors.
Safer looks at his watch, tapping. Brightwood agitated.
What? OK, I'm nervous.
Safer looks at his watch. Three AM.
Blame Fisch! Skyrocketing costs.
We have shortages and speculation.
I know we need this, but --
      (tapping; jittery)
I can't sit here any longer.
Safer swings the door open, exits. Brightwood follows.
Assault rifle slung over his shoulder, Hollister approaches
the two men. Hollister lights a smoke. The reflection of the
overhead flood lights reveal a ornate zippo with a skull and
"One shot one kill" inscribed on it.
No driver? Let's bail!
Danny just shut the hell up! Shut
up! Go watch for fucking cops!
Yeah, might as well. Maybe they
will get me outta here?
You run. I'll kill you! I promise.


You would, wouldn't you.
I said I promise, didn't I?
Sometimes I wonder about you!
Well don't. It's just a job!
Are we militia or mercenaries?
Safer walks towards the street. Hollister watches.

An archaic tractor arrives. A glistening new trailer in tow.
Identical to all the others at the facility.

TRUCK DRIVER, 50's, with hints of a hard life lived, stops.
Hits the AIR BRAKES. PSSSHHH. He exits and cranks down the
landing gear on the trailer.
Simmons, rifle in his lap, rolls down the window. Flicks his
cigarette to the ground.
Yo, buddy, glad to see you.
Thought you were lost.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
This piece a shit ride is anything
but dependable. But this ain't my
first RO-DE-O.
Not ours either, partner.
Truck driver removes a glad hand lock from a trailer.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Must be hauling something
expensive for them to lock down
this trailer.


It's none of your business.
Truck driver connects the air lines. He pulls out the
trailer from the warehouse door. In the trailers place, the
trailer he was pulling.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Boy, just asking. Cool your jets.
No one calls me boy. Get back to
work, ya fuckin raisin.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Kiss my ass, BOY! I'll split right
now. You're just a punk kid!
You fucking call me boy one more
      (walks away)
We don't need you. You act like
you're an astronaut or something.
Safer trots back to the group.
                       TRUCK DRIVER (To Brightwood)
OK boy. You got a direction, or am
I taking this load to the PO-LICE
Brightwood abruptly stops. A scowl plasters his face. He
taps his fingers on his pistol. He spins around...

...Approaches the truck driver. Slams the barrel of his .45
under his chin. Truck driver's head SNAPS back. Brightwood
Cocks the gun. Truck driver swallows...
Look you raisin, I'll shoot you
and leave you for dead. You call
me boy, you're history. GOT IT!
Hollister RACES to Brightwood.
Adam, we have an agenda!
The truck driver's body trembles. He pees his pants.


Hollister aims his rifle at Brightwood.
Adam! Knock it off! I mean it!
Look at him!
Brightwood looks at the truck driver's urine soaked pants.
He grins at the truck driver. Hollister lowers his rifle.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
OOOOKKAY... Sor-- ry. I'm just
here for the cash. Give me a
direction and I'm outta here.
Brightwood pistol whips the truck driver's head. A knot
quickly develops. Truck driver rubs his head.
That's better old man! Now you see
who's in charge. Someone give him
the map.
Simmons hands the Truck driver a wadded up piece of paper.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
      (looks at paper)
The Truck driver climbs up into the cab of his...
He rubs his head, angry. He watches the Militia.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Son of a bitch punks! Your parents
must be so proud!
Basset Hound looks out the window. Brightwood turns, looks
at the truck driver.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Yeah, I'm talking to you boy!
Did that fossil just call me a
boy? He's dead! Fucking dead!


That's a bad idea. We need him!
Adam, just leave him alone!
Truck driver leans his head out the window.
                       TRUCK DRIVER
Gonna intimidate me some more with
your gun? Without it, you ain't
nothing... BOY!
Brightwood walks to the tractor, pulls his .45 out. He turns
and grins at Hollister. He looks at the Truck driver...
Don't do it Adam!
...BLAM, BLAM! Two bullets penetrate the Truck driver's
head. The cab splattered in crimson. The Truck driver
slouches against the door of the tractor. His body now
faceless and lifeless.
Brightwood opens the door to the truck. The Truck driver
tumbles to the ground. Brightwood smirks.
I tried to warn you old man.
Bright wood spits on the corpse.
      (grabs the dog)
Go on get outta here!
Brightwood throws the dog to the ground. He snatches the
Truck drivers wallet and tucks it away.
Adam! What the hell are you
thinking? Who's gonna drive this
now? You stupid asshole!


Shit guys, I'll drive this bitch.
Can't be that hard.
      (Shakes his head
       in disbelief)
I'll lead. Danny, you follow Adam.
The Militia get into their vans. Brightwood picks up his
expended casings. He climbs into the...
Brightwood wipes blood the from the windshield. The blood
SMEARS. He starts the tractor. Studies the gears. GEARS
GRIND loudly as he shifts.
The militia leave. Brightwood continues to GRIND GEARS.
BASSET HOUND WHIMPERS as it sniffs the dead body.
The Militia head south down Skidmore Avenue. Traffic
starting to pick up. Rain pelts the vans.
Bicyclist dressed for work and wearing a poncho pedals
rapidly along Skidmore Avenue. He struggles with his coffee.

Hollister's van nearly clips the bicyclist.

The bicyclist looses control of the bike. The coffee spills.
He burns his hand. The bicyclist swerves out into traffic.
Donut truck speeds north on Skidmore. It swerves to miss the
cyclist and veers into oncoming traffic.
Brightwood's truck swerves to miss the donut truck. Slams on
the brakes. Brakes LOCK. The improperly hooked trailer
slides off the fifth wheel of the tractor. The trailer
swings to Brightwood's left... Into oncoming traffic.
Fuel tanker combination headed north on Skidmore Ave.
Tractor swerves and misses out of control trailer. Fuel
tanker trailer does not miss. The two TRAILERS COLLIDE
violently. Brightwood's trailer buckles.


Massive EXPLOSION! An enormous fireball shoots into the rain
filled sky. Thousands of BULLETS SPILL from the trailer out
The fireball engulfs the fuel tanker's tractor. Driver bails
from the tractor, escaping the flames.
                       BRIGHTWOOD (V.O.)
Shit! Guys we got a problem, a
huge problem!
                       HOLLISTER (on radio)
Danny, get stupid and head for the
alternate rendezvous point. This
is turning really ugly.
Brightwood jumps out of the tractor. Flames race closer.
Brightwood lumbers to Safers's van. His jacket shields his
face from the heat and rain.

BLARING SIRENS close in from all directions.
Police cars flood the crash site. Police barricade the
crash. Fire trucks arrive. The heat intense. They fight the
fire. Police catch Brightwood fleeing. Police pursuit
Safer's van. More police storm past the crash. SIRENS
BLARING and lights flashing.
Safer's rear view mirror.filled with red and blue lights.
Beads of sweat drip from his forehead.
God Damn! There's 50 of'em. I'm
shooting over to Kennedy Avenue.
Brightwood eagerly grabs an assault rifle.
I'll handle this.


Brightwood VIOLENTLY KICKS open the back door. He opens
FIRE. BULLETS SPRAY all over the street! Police cars swerve
to dodge the onslaught.

POLICE CAR #1 CRASHES into a street light. The light pole
falls onto an adjacent building, causing cosmetic damage.
Police cars continue the pursuit. Brightwood and police
exchange GUNFIRE. Safer weaves through the streets.

Brightwood aims for POLICE CAR #2's tires. SHOOTS. BULLETS
rip the tires to shreds. POLICE CAR #2 flips end over end.
They're still coming! Don't stop
for nothin!
Trust me, I'm not!
Safer rockets thru the streets. The police struggle to keep
up. Vehicles swerve clear of Safer's destructive path.
The Militia out-gun the return gunfire from the police.

Brightwood SHOOTS up two more POLICE CARS. One CRASHES into
a roach coach. The other SMASHES viscously into a lumber
truck. Boards litter the street.
Hollister's van speeds into the parking lot of a vacant
industrial facility. The van stops in a garage. Hollister
snaps up a gun.
      (on radio)
Danny, where are you? We're
waiting for ya.


                       SAFER (V.O)
      (on radio)
Almost there! Few of Adam's
friends too.
Safer speeds on. He hits the brakes. The van fishtails out
of control. Brightwood slams into the side of the van.

Brightwood LEAPS from the bullet riddled van.
Holy Shit! Look!
Let's go! We don't have much time.
Brightwood throws Safer a rifle. Brightwood turns and backs
up. He bumps onto Hollister. They await the police.
Hollister opens an overhead door. The almost vacant building
housing a white generic delivery truck.
      (staring down Adam)
Hurry up shit-for-brains!
      (looks up; points)
They got a chopper too? Christ, I
didn't think it could get worse!
Police chopper turns on its spot light. Shines on the
Militia. More police cars fill the parking lot.
Adam, is the RPG in the van?
Yeah, but you better use it.
You're a much better shot.
POLICE CHOPPER SHOOTS at Hollister as he runs to the van.
The Militia shoot at the Chopper. Hollister, dodging fire
from the chopper, grabs the RPG from Safer's van. Police
Chopper banks away from the return GUNFIRE.


A fleet of police cars has circled the building, officer's
weapons drawn, ready.
                       POLICE CHOPPER PILOT (OVER PA)
Put down your weapons and step
away from the building. You are
completely surrounded.
That's what you think copper!
Hollister raises the RPG. BULLETS continue to SPRAY around.
He aims. He pulls the trigger. A BURST of air SHOOTS into
Hollister's face. The ROCKET speeds towards its target.
BOOM! CHOPPER is hit by the ROCKET. The flaming chopper
plunges from the sky, landing on police cars crushing
several. More EXPLOSIONS. Flames stream into the air. Police
shield themselves from the intense heat and flames.
The Militia sustain their gunfire. The sound of LEAD TEARING
thru METAL as police cars are shredded. Police scatter.

Hollister tosses smoke grenades towards the police,
confusing the police even more.
                       BRIGHTWOOD (To everyone)
And here I thought today was going
to turn out bad. Who knew!
      (to everyone)
Get our shit and we're gone!
The group hustle to load up their gear. Police cars continue
to burn. Billowing clouds of smoke veil the Militia.
Hollister adjusts the police scanner. They listen.
SWAT Team is on the way. Adam, I'm
driving this time.


Brightwood glares at Hollister. He climbs in the truck. The
group silent.
Whatever! Like this is our first
time doing this!
Wait until Duncan hears this.
Simmons SLAMS the roll-up DOOR closed. He hops into the
bread truck.

The "WE'RE ROLLING IN DOUGH" bread truck exits the opposite
end. It quickly blends in with morning commuters.
Cooper finishes a call. Michael studies exit poll numbers.
Mike, I think you skipping the
midwest is the wrong move.
Let's hope not. I'll admit I'm
torn. Wife, Presidency...
This could cost you everything!
It's a calculated risk. It's okay
to be unreasonable sometimes.
Michael snatches a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
Tomorrow night will be the most
impactful, I promise.
This is a recipe for political
suicide, if you want my opinion.
For once I don't.


Michael exits the Limo. The DOOR SLAMS shut. Cooper jumps.
He peers through the tinted glass. A scowl upon his face.

Cooper selects a contact on his phone. Pushes call.
Michael RINGS the DOORBELL. Abby and Jordan, dressed in
their Halloween costumes, open the door. A mouse and Ninja.
      (arms spread wide)
Trick or Treat girls!
Papa, you're home!
You don't get candy Papa.
Then how about some for you?
Michael hands the girls each a large candy bar. Michael
disappears inside.
A modest home, with a hint of a hectic life from toys, to
news articles and campaign fliers littered throughout.
I feel re-energized being home.
Michael kisses the girls and hands the flowers to Abby.
Abby, please put these in a vase
for your mother.
Abby smells the flowers.
                       ABBY (O.S.)
OK Papa. I've never seen you bring
flowers home to Mama before.


Denise rushes to finish her costume. She admires herself in
the mirror like she was 16. The bedroom door opens.
Michael enters the room. He eyes Denise's hastily put
together Halloween costume.
Happy Anniversary... Cat Woman?
Denise nods. Michael swoops Denise off her feet. He twirls
her like she's dancing on air.
It is -- It's been so hectic
lately. I'm sorry if I'm not
dressed as Wonder Woman...
Michael sets her down, he plops down adjacent to her. He
throws his arm around her and pulls her close to him.
I know the campaign's been a
burden. I'm really trying to
balance all of this and maybe
doing a crappy job of it, but just
think. If I pull this off!
Michael clasps Denise's hand. Smiles.
I haven't given that much thought.
Michael mimics an announcer.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the First
Lady, Denise Fisch.
OK, so it does sound...
Interesting. I'm not sure that's
me though.


Denise smiles. She rolls her eyes at Michael. The two
engage is playful banter.
That's what I love about you. Your
smile. It gets better with age.
Let's not talk about the campaign.
Michael nods in agreement.
You will be in Seattle, right?
I want to, but --
Denise! Are you serious? I'm
banking on tomorrow night being
the breakthrough moment. America
will stand up and take notice.
Michael it's not all about you. I
make sacrifices because I love
you. Country girl or not, this
campaign's been the death of me.
This is for America! You want our
girls to be safe don't you? Why
can't you see that?
Michael embraces Denise. Denise's head resting on Michael's
chest. She gazes at family photos, contemplating.
Brightwood and Safer let off some steam at the shooting
range. The two men shoot up several paper targets.
Brightwood consistently out shoots Safer. Safer a lousy
shot. The two compare targets. Safer cringes at the results.
Not bad, Danny. Now you only suck.
You used to really suck.


Whatever! I don't sleep with a gun
under my pillow like some of you.
I'll hit a target when it counts.
The two pack up.

The tinted DOUBLE DOORS are FLUNG open with a WHAM!

Duncan and Stark stroll by the counter. The shelves a haven
for spiders.
      (sweating; shaky
Here to shoot? Hopefully you do
better then me.
Duncan walks past Safer, directly to Brightwood.
Now you're going to bust my balls,
too? The police have no leads,
right Danny?
Danny backs up, out of Duncan's path, his palms facing out.
Duncan looks Brightwood directly in the eye.
You could have cost us lives! We
are a team. No room for hot heads.
I'm not taking any of your shit!
Oh really? You lose your cool over
some raisin calling you Boy?
That's very disappointing. Tell
you what I'm going to do -- BOY!
Stark hands Duncan a paper target, who hands it to
      (calm, points)
You take this target and go stand
down there boy!
You're not going to make --


Duncan SLUGS Brightwood in the gut. He quickly shoves
Brightwood against the wall. His forearm slowly digs into
Brightwood's throat.
I only tell people once. If they
don't get it, I move on.
Brightwood grimaces. He struggles to swallow, breathe.
Duncan releases Brightwood.
Duncan checks the magazine on his .45.
Patrons stop shooting. Most observe cautiously.
Go on. Get your stupid, fat ass
down there... BOY!
Brightwood yanks the target from Duncan, checks his throat.
He walks to the other end of the shooting range.
Don't you miss. Adam's a bleeder.
Kinda like the one he left for me?
Adam, you might want to close your
eyes. Hold that target out a
little farther.
Duncan pulls the hammer back. He aims.
Brightwood extends the target outward. His hand trembles.
Beads of SWEAT from his face SPLASH on the concrete.
Hold still! I had a little too
much caffeine today.
Brightwood closes his eyes. Grimaces. Duncan waits --
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Brightwood collapses to his knees. He
opens one eye. Looks over the target. Clean, all misses.
Stark laughs as he points at Brightwood.
What the hell is going on?


Blanks you ass-hole! Don't ever
fuck up again! Ever! Understand?
Brightwood crumples up the target. He tosses it on the
floor, disgusted. Spits some blood out.
Thanks guys. I thought we were a
team? You know, real tight?
Brightwood gingerly approaches Duncan. Brightwood hesitates.
Retaliation gleaming in his eyes.

Brightwood lowers his head. He snatches up his gear.
Brightwood vacates the shooting range.
Next time someone shoots at you,
it won't be with blanks.
      (to everyone)
Don't get too used to hanging out
at your local shooting range.
Fisch's gonna put an end to that!
Patrons clearing a path as Duncan and Stark blow past them.
Jaws lowered.
Anxious trick-or-treaters approach the Fisch residence.
Secret Service Agents perform thorough searches on everyone.
Dressed in a patriotic outfit complete with an Uncle Sam
hat, Michael dishes out candy to trick-or-treaters.
Greg enters, dressed as a Cowboy. He greets Michael with a
distant nod as he scoots by some kids.
Whirl-wind like, Denise prepares pizza. The DOORBELL RINGS
continuously in the background.
Hey Greg! Secret Service give you
any trouble?


Uh -- them? Hardly.
Kids hurry up and eat. You need to
help hand out the candy.
The girls dive into the pizza. Jordan nearly knocking over
the flower arrangement.
OK! Can we have candy for dessert?
I suppose.
I thought Mike was in Seattle?
Denise moves the flowers from the table to the counter.
It's our anniversary and he wanted
to surprise me and the girls.
With the election so close?
I guess so. I'd rather not talk
about it right now.
The girls, distracted by the goings on, dart from the table,
blow by Denise and scramble upstairs.
Of all the people to marry. A gun
apologist who can't even stand up
to a fist fight. Ya, he's a real
politician Denise.
Michael's a good person. He cares
about people. More so than you
ever will.
Greg ignores Denise. He opens the refrigerator.


Got any beer?
You know he doesn't drink. No guns
allowed in the house either. Watch
out for the flowers!
Greg defiantly waves his toy six shooters.
Except these babies.
Greg knocks over the vase. Contents spill onto the floor.
Greg! I warned you.
Jerk! I don't need the two of you
fighting over gun issues again.
Wouldn't be much of a fight! I'll
mop the floor up with his ass!
Quiet Greg! I mean it!
A somber Denise picks up the once beautiful arrangement.
Listen! Our family has always been
both avid gun collectors and
responsible gun owners. Three
generations now, going on four.
What about it?
We're responsible gun owners. Why
should we be punished? Hell, I've
even let the girls shoot a gun
when they've been over. Blanks,
live ammo, they know how to handle
themselves around guns.


Greg! Keep it down. He'd just die
if he knew the girls held a gun,
let alone fired one. But he does
understand both sides of the gun
argument Greg. He does.
Doubtful. He's just full of shit!
You don't think Michael has a hard
time with some of this? His family
hunted too, including Michael.
Well you shouldn't be so
supportive. All the fundraising
and campaigning that you've done.
It's pointless. He won't win!
I'm on the fence to be honest. But
Michael's obsessed with the safety
of children. Especially ours!
He just better watch his back!
Denise stops and gazes. Half eaten slices of pizza litter
the table. She reluctantly cleans up the mess.
Nicholas is now in charge of his
security detail. He's already
ahead of Michael in Seattle.
Seattle... That reminds me. I need
to make a call. Later sis.
Greg exits the nook, leaving Denise to clean-up.
Michael poses for a photo with a group of Trick or Treaters.
Thank you! Good night.


I'm beat! These kids... They just
keep coming and...
Michael plops down at the table. He snatches up some pizza.
Are you ready for Seattle?
I am. Tomorrow night will be a
special night. America will
embrace my words and more
importantly, my vision. I just
feel it.
Denise, lost in the moment, stares at Michael and smiles.
Small but organized basement. A staggering cache of weapons.
Sharpshooting awards from the military decorate the walls.
Hollister, precision like, gathers various sniper equipment.
From upstairs, Hollister's dog GROWLS. Hollister stops. He
listens. The dog's GROWL grows in intensity. He BARKS!

Hollister clutches his sniper rifle and runs...
Upstairs -- Hollister slows as he reaches the last step. He
listens. The TICK from the analog CLOCK on his wall the only
SOUND in the room. His dog no longer growling.

Hollister approaches the front window. He cautiously pulls
the drapes back. He peers out the window. Suspicious.
Car DOOR SLAMS shut. A couple dash across the street.

Hollister peers. He slowly pulls the drapes back... Exhales.

CLICK!!! Hollister spins. He looks around.
Duncan stands opposite of Hollister in his nook. Gun pointed
at Hollister.
A little rusty?


Nah, I knew you were here.
Hollister reveals a .45 in his hand, the red laser centered
on Duncan's forehead.
Nice. I guess I can count on you!
You're the one I can trust the
most. You know that right?
Both men holster their pistols.
I won't fail. Never have! Never!
Rain, snow, wind... I'm the best.
You give me a target, I'll hit it.
America is counting on us.
Duncan touches Hollister's shoulder.
Hollister clutches his sniper rifle. Duncan snags the gear.
Group of teenagers dressed in gangster costumes and TOY
TOMMY GUNS stumble down Silver Wood Loop as they drink beer.
A news van sits idle across the street from the Fisch
residence. A reporter randomly interviews Trick or Treaters.
Lit Jack-O Lanterns line both sides of the driveway and up
to the front entry.
The teenagers freeze! Swaying, they stare at the news van.
Hey guys, lllook! A tev --
tevision cccrew!
OH Crap! We need to hide this
beer! We don't want our parents to
see us drunk on TV.
They hide the beer in a now empty candy bag.


I want to be TV! Who wants to join
me on celebrity TV?
I will. This looks like fun. This
night's been pretty lame anyway!
I'm good right here. Heads
starting to spin.
Yeah, mine too.
You are so lame! Come on Bonnie!
Capone fidgets around in his pocket. He removes an object.
                       CAPONE (To Corelone)
Oh the looks on their faces. This
will be priceless!
Two Secret Service Agents, TALL SS AGENT, 30'S, and SHORT SS
AGENT, 40'S, watch closely as the teenagers stumble closer.
                       TALL SS AGENT
      (into his mic)
Two teenagers headed my direction.
Looks like they're carrying
something. Be alert everybody.
Trick or Treaters continue to come and go.
Tall SS Agent approaches the teenagers at the driveway.
                       TALL SS AGENT
I'm afraid I'll need to take your
toy guns.
Tall SS Agent pulls his jacket back revealing his pistol.
Don't you get it, it's Halloween.
                       TALL SS AGENT
No costumes kids. Secret Service.


                       SHORT SS AGENT
Last time! 1...2...
The two reluctantly hand the agent their TOY TOMMY GUNS. The
Agents pat the teenagers down.
                       SHORT SS AGENT
      (into mic)
They're clean. Good to go.
Capone pulls out a handful of M-80 firecrackers and a
lighter. He struggles to steady his hand in the cold of the
night, as he attempts to light the M-80's.
Wait til these suckers go off.
They're going to crap themselves!
Bonnie and Clyde stagger to the front door and stop. BALD SS
You guys wipe their asses too?
Bonnie leans against a column for support. She snickers.
The front door slowly opens...
                       ABBY (O.S.)
Trick or --
The fuse from the M-80's sparks to life. It startles the
drunk Capone. He struggles to focus. The M-80's fumble about
in his drunken hands and fall --

To the ground. The M-80's start to roll downhill --
Holy shit! You Idiot! Grab'em!
Capone fumbles after one of the M-80's, fuse running out of
life. BOOM! the M-80 BLOWS Capone to the ground. Capone
SCREAMS out in pain.


Secret Service Agents startled! They draw their weapons.
Corleone panics. He snatches the other M-80's and takes off.
Corleone HURDLES over the front fence, Tommy gun in one
hand M-80's in the other. He RACES towards Bonnie and Clyde.
These are lit! Lookout!
Corleone hurls the the M-80's. One lands in the...
BOOM! A front WINDOW SHATTERS. The second M-80 sails in the
air in the direction of the Bald SS Agent.
Bonnie and Clyde dive onto the ground. Bonnie SCREAMS.
Michael the girls!
Michael drops his pizza. Leaps over the sofa. His hat
tumbles to the floor. As he darts out the door, Michael
brushes against a photo of the family. The FRAME CRACKS as
it hits the FLOOR.

Greg races out behind him into the...
Bald SS Agent kneels and draws his weapon.
                       BALD SS AGENT
Everybody down on the ground!
Abby and Jordan step outside for a better view.
The second M-80 bounces off of the TORSO of Bald SS Agent
and falls to the ground. BOOM!!! M-80 EXPLODES...

The Bald SS Agent crashes to the ground. A BULLET is
accidentally DISCHARGED. The bullet headed for --


Jordan's left leg.
Michael lunges for the girls. His eyes wide with terror.
Greg hurdles over everyone. He stomps a carved pumpkin.
Move in on the BULLET as it approaches Jordan.
Greg swats the gun from the dazed Bald SS Agent. He cracks
Greg's jaw with his elbow. Greg plunges to the ground.
The BULLET penetrates Jordan's leg. In SLOW-MOTION Jordan
falls to the ground. Blood slowly flows onto her costume.
Oh my Baby! Michael!
Abby catches a glimpse of Jordan's leg. Abby SCREAMS!
Michael wisps Jordan up. He charges back into the house.
Bald SS Agent dashes towards Corleone. He wallops the teen.
His items soar thru the crisp night air. Corleone topples to
the ground, woozy.
                       BALD SS AGENT
Move and I put a bullet in your
Bald SS Agent kicks the Tommy gun away from the outreached
hand of Corleone. Pistol focused at Corleone.
                       BALD SS AGENT (into his mic)
Ambulance needed at the Fisch
residence. A girl has been shot!
Tall SS Agent runs to Capone. Weapon fixed on him.
front door.


                       HALLOWEEN REPORTER
This is unbelievable! Tell me your
getting this footage?
                       NEWS CAMERMAN
All of it!
                       HALLOWEEN REPORTER
Who wants to tell me their story?
I saw everything! We are going
live in 60 seconds!
Short SS Agent signals the news team to stop.
                       SHORT SS AGENT
I'm afraid there won't be any ET
stories. You need to leave, now!
The news team retreat a few steps. Lurking in the
Greg, rises slowly, checks his jaw and clears the cobwebs.
                       GREG (To The SS Agents.)
You A-Holes! They're kids! They
have firecrackers and toy guns!
                       BALD SS AGENT
We're assigned here by the United
States Government. We will protect
Michael Fisch at all costs!
Greg approaches the Bald SS Agent. Face to Face. Angry.
It's God Damn Halloween! You guys
can take that Johnny Ringo
attitude and get the hell outta
here. You guys amaze me!
The three Secret Service Agents holsters their weapons. Bald
SS Agent KNOCKS on the front DOOR.
Michael promptly sits on the sofa, refusing to loosen his
grip on Jordan.
Mama, it hurts! My leg hurts.


Jordan clutches her leg with both hands. Michael and Denise
look at each other. Concern blankets their faces.
      (reassuring voice)
We'll get you to the hospital
right away. I won't let anything
else happen to you. I promise!
A panicked Denise wraps Jordan's leg with gauze.
Jordan try not to think about your
leg. Think about --
SIRENS become louder.
That's the ambulance. Thank God!
Michael carries Jordan out of the house and into the...
Michael, the center of attention, carries Jordan to the
paramedics. The residence is eerily silent.
EMT's load Jordan into the ambulance. Denise, frazzled and
Greg follow. Michael catches up. He starts to enter --
No Michael! You did this to my
Jordan! Get away from me!
Your Jordan?
Greg shoves Michael aside. Secret Service ready to spring.
You brought this onto your family.
You just can't let the gun issue
rest, can you? Let it go! You
won't win. I promise!
Michael backs away. The DOORS CLOSE. Michael gazes at Denise
through the glass. His face void of expression.



Abby runs to Michael. She squeezes him tightly. He picks her
up and tears stream down the cheeks of both faces. The
ambulance races off into the darkness as Michael's eyes
follow its path.
Will Jordan be OK Papa?
Let's hope so Abby.
Police cars ROCKET past the ambulance. The CARS SKID into
the driveway. Then more television crews. The place now
resembles The 4th of July.
An assortment of patients with superficial Halloween mishaps
wait quietly in the lobby.

Denise, still in her Cat Woman costume, BARGES through the
DOORS into the ER. Adrenaline pumps thru her body. Patients
jolted from their seats.
Where's the doctor?
Jordan is rushed into the ER on a gurney by a EMT. The
morphine drip soothes Jordan.

DOCTOR JENSEN, mid 50'S and balding, stabilizes one patient
and approaches Jordan. He checks her vitals.
                       DOCTOR JENSEN
Jordan, what a beautiful name.
      (affirmative nod)
                       DOCTOR JENSEN
We'll take great care of you. I
bet you got a bunch of candy
tonight, right?
Jordan nods again. Her eyes locked on the doctor.
She's going to be OK, right?


                       DOCTOR JENSEN
Let's get her into a room and
examine her. Difficult to tell the
extent, given all the blood.
Jordan's rushed to a room. Nurse whisps the curtain closed.
Denise's eyes welling up. Make up ruined as she wipes the
tears from her cheeks.
Michael DASHES into the Hospital waiting room. He looks for
Denise. Secret Service Agents and Abby close behind.

Michael spots Denise. They make eye contact.
How's Jordan?
She's in surgery. The doctor's
I hope so. Her sister is really
shook up.
Well she should be. She's nine.
NINE Michael. Is there someplace a
little more private?
Excuse us for a moment.
Michael and Denise walk together into a...
What is it Denise?
Michael I don't understand your
obsession? It's obvious this
campaign has become too dangerous.
There has to be a safer way.


Everyday America turns their back
on this problem, another child
loses the battle and their life!
As noble as that is Michael, I
don't want to be around when a
dead President is what it takes to
get this country's attention! This
is a road I can't travel down with
you any longer.
I just can't.
This was an accident! Certainly
you realize this?
Don't make any irrational
decisions right now.
I'm not being irrational Michael.
I'm being realistic and honest!
You're consumed by this idea...
      (looks away)
It was difficult enough seeing you
in harms way. Now the girls too!
I'm done with this!
What do you want from me?
It's too late to bargain.
Tell me you are not asking me to
drop out of the race?
No, I'm not. I used to think that
I was the problem. I was being
selfish. It's clear to me now that
the real issue was this candidacy!
Michael reaches for Denise. She turns her shoulder.
I'm leaving Michael. Good bye.


Denise exits the room.

Michael, jaw open, stares at the door. He waits for Denise
to return... He makes a call on his cell phone.
      (into phone)
We need to talk.
Cooper Griffin's Limo pulls up. Cooper and Naomi exit the
car. Michael exits the hospital. He approaches the car.
How is your daughter?
She's in surgery. Hopefully it's
not too serious.
I'm sure she'll be fine.
Naomi touches Michael's arm. He acknowledges the gesture.
And Denise?
She's around.
If she's truly decided to leave
you, we must bury this until after
the election.
Victory? Take a good hard look at
where we are standing! I'm trying
to keep my family together and all
you can think of is the election!
My function is to get you into the
White House! That's why you hired
me. If you're looking for sympathy
or compassion, try Naomi.
Michael stares at Cooper, glances quickly at Naomi and then
back at Cooper.


That's not what I'm looking for,
but your agenda sounds more and
more like it's self-fulfilling.
My agenda is to get you into the
White House. What you choose to do
thereafter... That's up to you.
We're down to the final hours of
the campaign. Denise is gone!
Jordan's been shot! Are these
normal roadblocks to the White
True, but we can still win this.
The next 72 hours are crucial,
starting with tomorrow night.
I will not allow my family to be
harmed! I'm not so certain that
withdrawing from the race is a
move I must consider.
Mike! Let's not do anything
irrational. Tomorrow night is so
crucial. Naomi...
Naomi acknowledges with a nod.
Tomorrow? Right now I'm lost.
Get your head back in the game!
Otherwise kiss this campaign
Cooper gestures a kiss with his hand.
I need to think this through. I'll
talk to you later.
Michael enters the hospital.


We're running out of time. The
campaign is in your-
The doors close. Naomi runs after Michael into the...
Naomi chases down Michael.
Michael stops. He turns around.
I just want you to know something.
What is it Naomi?
I grew up in Asia. My father's
dream was to come to America. Kids
growing up there -- We saw a lot
of horrific things.
Go on.
My family had only been here for
two months. My father was shot
outside our apartment as he came
home from work. We opened the door
and then --
      (starts to cry)
Michael tries to comfort Naomi in a subtle way.
I'm sorry. I never knew.
My father was killed over his
wallet by some kid. The police...
They offered little help.
What is the point to this?


Guns have been a growing problem
in America. Not just a problem for
you and I, for all of America. You
brought the realization of this to
the forefront of American
politics, when no one else would.
Michael, what I'm saying is, don't
quit. America needs you -- Even if
they don't realize it.
Determination plasters the faces of the Militia, twenty
strong. All dressed in paramilitary attire. LINDA DUNCAN,
40's, enters and shuts the door.
Men, the next 24 hours are for
America. We'll do this to ensure
the way of life our forefathers
envisioned. They too, fought for
the right to bear arms. Not one
person, nor government, foreign or
domestic, will take our rifles
from our hands. EVER!
This will be for Waco and Ruby
Ridge. Today we're not making
history, this is our destiny! To
the American way of life!
Linda hands out bandannas that resemble American flags. They
tie them onto their arms. The Militia anxious.
Michael rests his head on Jordan's arm. MONITORS BEEP as
Jordan sleeps. The room immersed in beautiful flowers.

Doctor Jensen enters the room. He checks on Jordan. Michael
is awakened by the SOUNDS from the DOCTOR.
                       DOCTOR JENSEN
Jordan will be fine. No major
arterial or structural damage.
Oh man, what a relief.


                       DOCTOR JENSEN
Yes. The surgery was hard on
Jordan. She's one tough kid. I
suspect she gets that from her
      (puts his hand on
      (stands up)
Nah, she gets it from her mom.
                       DOCTOR JENSEN
I'll leave you alone to sort out
your thoughts.
Doctor Jensen exits. Michael sits down. He stares at a
monitor. The BEEPS, almost therapeutic.
Thousands of pro gun supporters protest. Signs flashed and
bottles hurled at police. RIOT POLICE poised! Media vans
circle the arena like covered wagons. Reporters scamper like
ants. Media and police helicopters circle from above.
Final touches applied to Michael by the MAKE-UP person.
Several Secret Service Agents surround Michael.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Mike, this is the most secured
building in the world tonight. Now
it's up to you to make it count!
Michael nods.
The crowd, along with all of
America, will value my
presentation. This will be my
biggest splash.
Cooper scurries in. He smashes into the MAKE-UP person.
Mike, you're up in just a few.
Let's get your ass ready.


Have you heard from Denise?
No. Nothing. Are you even ready?
Ready? What do you think? I just
wanted to know if you had heard
from Denise. That's all! I need to
talk to her. So while I'm out
winning the Presidency, why don't
you make good use of your time and
get in touch with her!
OK Mike, I can do that.
Thank you. I know that's not self-
serving, but do it anyway!
                       ANDREW NOLAN (O.S.)
Ladies and gentlemen, your next
President of the United States.
Michael Fisch.
An almost regal looking Michael calmly gathers his thoughts,
exhales with force and exits onto the stage.
Michael appears from behind the curtain.

American flags line the stage. Camera flashes explode.
ANDREW NOLAN, 50'S, VP Candidate shakes Michael's hand. The
two wave to the crowd. The applause deafening.
Chants of "No more guns!" ECHOES throughout the building.
Michael motions the crowd. He approaches the podium.
Thank you! Thank you, America!
The crowd takes their seats, still a buzz in the air as they
anxiously await Michael's speech.
Good evening my fellow Americans.
Throughout my campaign I have
debated the issue of gun control.
Let tonight be a bi-partisan


                       MICHAEL (cont'd)
message to America.
Michael looks around. Observes the crowd. Clears his throat.
Over the past 25 years, America
has seen an unprecedented
escalation in gun violence. The
demographic hit hardest, has been
our children. Our very own
America's youth is waging war with
one another and it is only
escalating. Children today live in
fear. Fear of going to school.
Fear of walking alone. Fear of
The crowd more attentive then ever.
                       MICHAEL (O.S.)
Ask yourself this. Don't our kids
deserve a safer America? Should
your children have to pass thru a
metal detector to attend school?
Parents pull their kids close to them.
Did you know that we are one of
the world's leaders in youth
murders with a gun, murders with a
gun, crime committed with a gun
and we are the world leader in gun
ownership. These numbers represent
failure. Failure to teach,
properly educate and be
responsible gun owners. Failure to
respect the life of another
person, regardless of race or
Words of encouragement are shouted from the audience.
Parents everywhere, I ask you
How far are you willing to go, to
see a conclusion to this violent


                       MICHAEL (cont'd)
epidemic that has stricken us?
An exuberant fan in the front row rises, clasps his hands
around his mouth and shouts.
                       AUDIENCE MEMBER (O.S.)
All the way to the White House!
As I stand before you tonight,
hear my voice. The reasons for the
escalation are various. But one
stands out. America, we have not
challenged the thinking of the 2nd
The crowd enthusiastically applauds Michael.
                       MICHAEL (CONT'D)
The 2nd Amendment was thought up
under different times and with
much different intentions. Guns
are the root cause of this
unprecedented escalation. The
ability to obtain guns is far too
easy. The lack of responsibility
and proper education of firearms
is almost nonexistent.
The audience applauds.
Who you ask, should stand up and
take responsibility for this?
America, we only need to look in
the mirror! Americans created this
problem. We must now find the
                       AUDIENCE MEMBER (O.S.)
The solution is YOU!
Giant video screens overhead FLICKER ON and images of
teenagers and children with guns fill the screens.
The audience stares at the images in disbelief.
For far too long we have let
politics and greed cloud our moral
judgment. This thinking can no
longer continue. This is the time
that we as a society, decide that


                       MICHAEL (cont'd)
we have seen enough school
shootings on the nightly news!
That we have buried enough
children! Now is the time for our
great country to turn the corner
and make a change. As your
Presidential hopeful, join me, as
I embark on this journey to make
this a safer America. An America
with far fewer guns and much more
stringent laws. With swiftness and
severity we will punish those who
disregard our gun laws.
A classroom of 1st graders enter onto the stage. Shoulder to
shoulder. Their faces expressionless. Silent.
      (turns to the kids)
Let these First graders be the
first to escape this calamity.
The audience gasps.
The world's eyes are upon us. I
believe in my heart that Americans
have the resolve and the potential
to make our country safe again.
America, let us unite and let the
next 4 years be an example to the
world of our desire to be not only
the greatest nation, but the
safest nation. Michael Fisch,
your next President of these
United States.
The audience ignites into a thunderous standing ovation.
Anti-gun slogan signs are hoisted throughout. The building
is at a frenzy. The floor vibrates like a rock concert.
Michael and Andrew wave to the audience. They exit the
stage. Several plain clothed Secret Service Agents follow.
The Candidates shake the hands of supporters and sign
autographs. Both men weave through the crowd out into the...


Reporters tussle for position. Michael and Andrew stop.
Michael!/ Are you confident this
will see you to victory?/ Did you
write your speech?/ I've heard
rumors you might drop out of the
The speech was from the heart. It
was everything to me... And
                       ANDREW NOLAN
What a night. Tonight is not a
night America will soon forget.
And no, I'm not dropping out.
We're in it to win it!
      (waves to
                       MICHAEL (to reporters)
I must go now. Thank you.
Michael and Andrew spot Cooper and Naomi. They
enthusiastically greet one another. The Secret Service rush
the four along and into the...
Buses and SUV's dominate the underground parking. Law
enforcement officers swarm about.
Naomi shows video highlights to Michael on her iPad as the
group continues down the corridor. Michael distant, his
thoughts elsewhere.
Early numbers are very strong.
Let's hope this resonates to the
millions of people at home
watching on TV or the Internet
that were still undecided.


You use dialogue like fear, guns
and children and people think we
have a crisis!
Coop, it's reality. That wasn't
just a cool catchphrase meant to
spawn fear in voters. And in case
you have not been a part of my
campaign, there is a crisis!
      (Michael checks
       his phone)
Did you manage to get in touch
with my wife?
Andrew shoots Michael a look.
      (looks down)
Michael brow beats Cooper. Temples bulge.
                       ANDREW NOLAN
Mike, great job out there tonight!
You hit a home run! See you in
Texas. Good luck in Portland.
The two shake hands.
Yes, good luck to you too. Nothing
will stop us now.
Andrew enters his LIMO. Andrew's motorcade leaves the
underground parking. Agent Dakota approaches Michael.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
We're running behind schedule.
Is there a problem?
                       AGENT DAKOTA
No. We had to switch buses.
Mechanical issue of somekind.
Is it safe?


                       AGENT DAKOTA
Perfectly safe I assure you. We'll
have two buses and more than
enough support.
I'll leave that to your judgment.
I must call Denise.
Michael starts to walk away.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
No safety glass, but this
shouldn't be an issue in this
Michael pauses. He digests the comments. Michael reaches for
his phone, distancing himself. He pushes numbers on the
phone as he paces. The call goes to voice mail.
      (on phone)
Denise, I was checking on Jordan.
Tonight was a huge success. Just
incredible! There was a void
though. Please call me. Please!
Michael walks to the bus. Concern blankets his face.
Special Agent Dakota continues to direct the security team.
Bomb sniffing dogs circle around the bus and inside. A
Secret Service Agent gives the OK.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Mike, this is you. The campaign
members will be in the front bus.
The campaign team and security start to board the buses. The
last campaign members board the bus. Special Agent Dakota
pauses, he looks back over his shoulder...
Rain pounds the city. Motorcade exits the arena. Michael
peers out a window. A figure in overalls lurks, then plunges
into darkness. A puzzled look strikes Michael.


Rain continues to fall. Heavy at times.

Hollister sets up his BARRET M95. His face unrecognizable.
He turns his camo cap backwards. Hollister peers thru his
night scope. He moves some brush. Positions himself. COCKS
the RIFLE.

Safer applies face paint. He adjusts his spotting scope. A
range finder by his side.
The bus is peppered with Agents. Agent Dakota discusses
security details with Agents and Cooper.
Michael, antsy, sits alone in the back. He removes his
jacket. Checks the time. He phones Denise.
Denise's PHONE RINGS. Abby answers it.
Hi Papa!
INTERCUT phone conversation.
Abby? Abby is that you?
I saw you on T.V. tonight.
Yes, I was on T.V. How's Jordan?
She's asleep.
Here's Mama.
Denise, there's something I have
to tell you. It can't wait.


Right now? Hold on a moment.
Denise exits the room into...
Denise... Sean, his death... It
was my fault. All my fault!
I'm not following you. What are
you talking about Sean for?
Sean... I killed Sean!
The bus silent. Heads spin. All eyes on Michael.
What! I don't understand! How?
It was an accident. We were
playing with our father's gun and
it went off. It was horrible. Sean
died, right there in my arms.
I don't know what to say?
I've never told anyone this! It's
haunted me since childhood.
This is what's driving you?
I could never pick up a gun again.
I love you Denise! I won't lose
you to --
Michael? Michael are you there?


Denise stares at her phone. Amazement spreads on her face,
Michael's PHONE BEEPS. The signal dies. He stares helplessly
at his phone.

Both Agent Dakota and Cooper's jaws open wide.

Michael sighs as he gazes at the two men. A look of calm on
his face. He tucks his phone into his jacket and tosses it
in an empty seat opposite from him.
Safer watches for the bus. Raindrops build up on the lens of
the spotter scope. He wipes it clean. Peers back thru it.
There she is. About 3 miles out.
Gimme a reading.
Range 3 miles. 1/4 value. push 1
CLICK -- CLICK, Hollister slowly adjusts his NIGHT SCOPE.
Wait! There's a second TARGET!
Hollister looks up. He observes the buses. He re-positions
himself. Peers through his scope.
Just concentrate on the lead
target. That's our focus.
OK. Range 1 mile and closing.
Speed 57 MPH. You should be on
Hollister has the target in his sights. The bus approaches.

Closer -- Closer --
The target is in the kill zone.


POV through SNIPER SCOPE. He affectionately grips the Sniper
The BULLET penetrates the windshield. The WINDSHIELD CRACKS.

The bullet pierces the driver's neck. The driver slouches to
the right. He jerks the steering wheel hard.

The PASSENGERS SCREAM. The passengers look around in a
panic. Secret Service Agent grabs his mic.

HEROIC like, the driver turns back to the left. His foot
slams the accelerator. Passengers are tossed about the bus
like styrofoam peanuts being pushed around a box.
The bus accelerates and slams into the back of two Secret
Service SUV's. The vehicles lose control.

The BUS ROLLS onto its side. Sparks burst outward. The BUS
GRINDS to a stop. The passengers trapped!

SUV one spins and rolls over. The SUV CRASHES through the
median. SUV two fishtails all over the freeway. The SUV
SMASHES thru the guardrail descending down the embankment.
The lead State Trooper skids to a SCREECHING halt. He turns
around. He races to the victims! The officer springs from
his car. He scurries to help the victims.
Hollister quickly readies for another shot. He spots the
police officer thru his sniper scope. He aims... FIRES!
BLAM! The officer tumbles to the ground.
The WOUNDED POLICE OFFICER crawls towards the SUV. He
reaches for his radio. His bloody hand trembles. He pushes


Did you see that shot?
Safer glances at Hollister. Frowns.
Tip of a cigarette glows. Simmons calmly exhales. Three
full-size pickups, with reinforced grills lurk in the
darkness. The freeway only seconds away.
The second bus passes the "kill zone". Four militia drag
SPIKES across the freeway. The two trailing SUV's DRIVE
across the SPIKES. TIRES BLOW OUT. The SUV's SKID to a stop.

The militia storm the SUV's. Precise. The MILITIA open FIRE
with silenced ASSAULT RIFLES. Every Agent, killed! The
bodies yanked out of the SUV's. Tossed in the grass. The
Militia take off in the SUV's.
Headlights highlight the mangled bus. Special Agent Dakota
signals the bus driver to stop. The bus on high alert.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Mike, stay down. You three watch
him. Stay away from the windows.
The bus slows to a hault. Agent Dakota gazes through the
windshield. He observes.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Leopard one to Cheetah one, copy?
Hollister PEERS thru his scope. POV through SNIPER SCOPE.
The bus stopped.
Danny, range?


Oh, right.
Safer peers through his spotting scope. He observes.
Range 700 meters. Middle of the
Hollister observes, finger on the trigger. His finger rubs
back and forth. Calming. He Waits... Hollister slowly pulls
his finger towards himself... BLAM! The BULLET shoots out
with force. The bullet heads towards the bus. It's target...
                       AGENT DAKOTA
I'm hit!
The bullet hits Agent Dakota in the shoulder. His arm
exploding outward. The force whips him around.
Michael assumes the fetal position. He reaches for his
jacket. Snatches it up. Fumbles for his cell phone.
Pandemonium on the bus. The driver starts to take off.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
No! Stop!
Agent Dakota struggles to stand up. He looks out the window.
Agent Dakota's eyes wide with shock.
Three pickups rapidly converge on the Secret Service bus.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Everybody hang on!
Agent Dakota glances back at Michael. Michael's phone in his
hand. The two stare at one another. Unsure...
BOOM! The PICKUPS SMASH into the BUS. Passengers are jarred
from their seats. WINDOWS SHATTER. The BUS BUCKLES.


The impact propels Agent Dakota to the other side of the
bus. Michael's phone jarred from his hands. He lunges for
his phone. It sails out of reach of his desperate hands.
The force launches the bus off the freeway. The bus descends
rapidly down a steep incline. An enormous tree stump TEARS
the ROOF open. The bus gains momentum. The front half of the
bus SLAMS into the shallow RIVER. An enormous splash!
Lets go skin a Fish boys!
The three pick-ups tear down the hill after the bus.
The trailing State Trooper stops his car. Jaw almost in his
lap. He radios dispatch.
                       STATE TROOPER (On mic)
Dispatch, we've just had an
assassination attempt on the Fisch
motorcade. I'm near mile marker
60. Send Fire, Paramedics and
notify the Secret Service. They're
going to need more agents.
Bodies scattered about. Steam rises from the mangled bus.
The Militia search feverishly for Michael's body.
Fisch is our number one priority.
Simmons rolls a body over. The body resembles Cooper.
This is definitely not Fisch.
Shame too. This guy's really
fucked up!
Simmons spits on the corpse. He kicks him over. Simmons
searches inside the bus.


                       SIMMONS (O.S.)
No sign of him in here. Shit!
Denise sits on an uncomfortable chair in the corner of
Jordan's room. Denise's mom HELEN LEWIS, 60's, rests upright
on a sofa. Abby's head rests comfortably in her lap.
Denise's CELL PHONE RINGS. Startled, everyone jumps!
                       DENISE (over phone)
      (half asleep)
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (O.S.)
Mrs. Fisch. This is Special Agent
Willis with the Secret Service.
I'm afraid there has been an
attempt on your husband's life.
                       DENISE (over phone)
      (Bites her
What? When? Is Michael OK?
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (O.S.)
We don't know at this point.
Tears stream down Denise's face
                       DENISE (over phone)
I -- I don't understand.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (O.S.)
The agents will escort you to the
airport. A jet is waiting for you.
                       DENISE (over phone)
I understand.
Denise ends the call. Face white and void of expression.
Somethings happened to Michael.
You'll have to stay with Jordan.
Jordan will be fine. Denise, what
did I tell you about this?


Denise quickly kisses Jordan's forehead. She jots a quick
note on a napkin for Jordan. Denise grabs Abby and exits.
Michael floats unconscious in the river. Awake, Michael
crawls out. He gathers his senses. Blood flows from a nasty
gash to his leg. He limps back upstream.
A jeep SPLASHES thru the shallow river. It approaches the
wreckage. The jeep stops.
Hollister, Safer and Duncan exit the jeep.
Here he is. The MAN!
Several militia congratulate Hollister.
There's a problem though.
What problem?
There's no sign of Fisch! Nowhere!
He has to be here!
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Please... H -- help me.
Duncan kneels next to Agent Dakota. Clutches his shirt.
Intrigued by the Secret Service patch.
A Special Agent. You have to be
pretty conceited to give yourself
that title. Is it the sunglasses?
The suits? The name "Secret
Service"? Whatever the reason,
it's elusive. You couldn't protect
yourself. And you certainly can't
protect Fisch. There's no one to
save him now. He's out there and
he's dead!


Agent Dakota in and out of consciousness. His head and upper
torso BLEEDING. His life beginning to fade.
                       AGENT DAKOTA
I gave my life... For our new
President and there will be more
like me. I'll die a hero...
Well, I don't know about being a
hero, but you are right.
      (looks at the
You will DIE!
Special Agent Dakota raises one arm, as if to stop the
                       AGENT DAKOTA
Duncan draws his .45, cocks it. He squeezes the trigger...
BLAM,BLAM! GUNSHOTS erupt in the distance. Michael ducks
behind some trees. He looks for signs of trouble. Laboring.
Let the fish have him! He doesn't
deserve a glamorous funeral!
Two militia drag Special Agent Dakota's limp corpse into the
river. His body rapidly floats away face down.
                       DUNCAN (to Stark)
Now... We will find this fucking
martyr and finish him.
I'm sure he's dead. Let's split
before more agents show up.
God you're a real pussy!


Maybe you'd like to join these
fine folk?
Duncan scowls at Safer. Nervous, Safer swallows.
I can arrange that you know.
Safer, still jittery, in an attempt to sound bold.
Someone toss me a weapon.
Hollister tosses Safer a rifle. Safer checks it.
Search along the river.
A small army of Militia head downstream along the river.
Beams of light swirling about the river's edge.
Darkness gives way to a loan SUV as races towards the
airport. The flashing lights have Abby's attention. Abby
yawns. Denise chews on her nails from a slouched position
adjacent Abby.
Did someone try to hurt Papa?
I'm not sure Abby.
Why are people always trying to
hurt Papa?
Not everyone agrees with Papa's
ideas. It's difficult to explain.
Denise looks out the window. A million scenarios running
through her head.
                       ABBY (O.S.)
Do you still love Papa?


Yes I do. Sometimes adults become
distracted and they don't realize
what's truly important to them.
Denise squeezes Abby. Kisses the top of her head. Denise
calls Michael on her cell phone. The call goes to voice
mail. A frustrated Denise bites her fingernails.
The beams of light closing. Michael stops! Michael hobbles
away from the river grimacing with each step. The terrain
becomes steep. Trees from the forest conceal Michael.
Militia search along the river. MILITIA 1 stops!
                       MILITIA 1
Looks to me like fresh blood!
Militia 1 follows the trail of blood. More militia follow.
Michael labors to the end of the forest. The lack of trees
now revealing. In the distance, buildings.
The Militia, 10 strong continue the pursuit through the
                       MILITIA 2
This isn't supposed to be this
hard. He's a politician, not a
track star.
                       MILITIA 3
A bleeding politician at that!
                       MILITIA 2
Is there a better kind?
                       MILITIA 3
Only a dead one!


Michael's movement compromised, lumbers along. He closes on
the buildings. Frozen stiff -- He stares at the buildings.
An enormous barn and farmhouse. Deja vu --

Michael's gaze broken by the sound of MILITIA close by.
Clouds now give way to partial moonlight. He's exposed --
The Militia spot Michael. They squeeze their triggers.
Bullets headed for --
Michael! The farmhouse too far. He limps to the barn.
Clutter all about. A couple of old tractors sit abandoned.

Militia 1 FIRES at Michael again. BULLETS RICOCHET off of
the tractors providing security for Michael.
Help! Is there anyone here? I need
Michael checks for unlocked doors. The doors are locked.

He RAMS a DOOR with his shoulder only to bounce off of it.
Michael spots a window up high, partially open. Michael
steps up on a bail of hay. He stands on his toes, arms
extended --

Barely able to push the window open.
Michael quickly glances over his shoulder. Silhouettes of
the militia rapidly approach.
An ELDERLY COUPLE sleep peacefully in each others arms. The
commotion outside awakens them. The moonlight illuminates
their bedroom.
                       ELDERLY WOMAN
There's something outside.


                       ELDERLY MAN
All right, I'll go check on it.
                       ELDERLY WOMAN
William, be careful!
The elderly man reluctantly gets out of bed. He staggers
towards the door. He snags his shotgun from the corner of
the room. Checks it for rounds. CRACKS the SHOTGUN shut.

Their dog barks downstairs. The lab paws at the door.
Militia 1 closes fast. The others not far behind. He FIRES
his silenced ASSAULT RIFLE!
Michael's outreached hands slide the window open.
Michael struggles to pull himself up. BULLETS WHISTLE past
his legs.

He summons all of his strength. Gymnast-like, he pulls
himself through the window. He falls --
Awkwardly on the concrete floor. Michael winces in agony. He
clutches his leg. Blood trickles from the wound.
The moonlight illuminates the barn. A well-kept 80's Chevy
pick-up truck parked inside. Michael searches for a key.
Militia 1 approaches the barn. The enormous sliding doors
locked. He SHOOTS the LOCK with his SILENCED PISTOL.
BLAM! Michael looks up. Concern blankets his face. Michael
crawls behind the pick-up out of sight.


Militia 1 pulls the RUSTY DOOR open. He cautiously enters.
Militia 1 CLICKS his FLASHLIGHT on.
Michael whips around. Militia 1 close. Time running out.
Michael looks at the tools...
                       MILITIA 1
Fisch... It's pointless. Look at
the trail of blood you left me.
Michael glances at his leg. Blood slowly streams down it.
Militia 1 inches closer to Michael. Tools on the wall
outlined as he creeps past the workbench. One missing...
                       MILITIA 1
Come on out, Fisch! If you're such
a great leader, why hide?
Confident, Militia 1 lunges past the end of the work bench.
                       MILITIA 1
Got you!
Michael lies on the ground, the shadows like a veil, buries
a hammer into Militia 1's foot with incredible force.

Militia 1 SCREAMS in agony. He clutches his bloody foot. His
PISTOL and FLASHLIGHT FALL to the floor.

Michael hesitates. His eyes fixated on the pistol -- He
looks up, back down at the pistol --

Michael quickly kicks the pistol out of reach. The PISTOL
SLIDES across the floor. It Rests under the pick up.

Michael springs upwards. He shoves Militia 1 off his feet.
Militia 1's head smashes into the pick up. BONES CRACK as
Militia 1's neck is snapped.

An ALARM on the pick-up SOUNDS off.
Michael quickly pads him down. A CELL PHONE! He snatches it.


The Militia approach the barn. They split up. The militia
circle the barn. A porch light from the Farmhouse flicks on.
Out steps a half asleep ELDERLY MAN in his robe.
                       ELDERLY MAN
What's going on? Who's out there?
The Elderly Man raises his shotgun --
Militia 3 swiftly drops to one knee, draws his silenced
pistol and squeezes the trigger --

PFFT! One bullet penetrates the elderly man's forehead. His
eyes roll back. Blood TRICKLES down his face. His shotgun
HITS the PORCH innocently as his body plunges next to it.
Militia 3 sprints to the side door of the Farmhouse.
                       ELDERLY WOMAN
Confused the Elderly Woman opens the door, to see --
Militia 3 standing at the door. He calmly strolls into the
Farmhouse and KICKS the DOOR shut behind him --

Two quick bursts of light.
A small city of tents have been erected. A make shift base
for the Secret Service. Helicopters buzzing overhead.

A Government SUV approaches the main tent, stops. Denise and
Abby exit. Abby totes her stuffed animal with her. They walk
directly inside the main tent. Numb to the frenzy
surrounding them.
SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS, 50's and walks with a LIMP and AGENT
COLEMAN, 30's, greet Denise.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
Good morning, ladies. I'm special
Agent Willis. We spoke on the
phone. Sorry to meet under these


                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (cont'd)
The three shake hands.
That makes two of us.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
May I get something for you?
Yes, thank you. What do you have?
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
The usual, donuts and coffee.
Agent Coleman, please see to it
that they're taken care of.
                       AGENT COLEMAN
I'll see what I can do. Let's go
see what we have.
Agent Coleman and Abby exit the tent together.
Special Agent Willis ushers Denise to a chair.
Denise sits down. EXPRESSIONLESS.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
We've been unable to locate your
husband's body. We haven't had any
luck with GPS either.
I'm confused, where is Agent
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
Mrs. Fisch... Special Agent Dakota
didn't survive the crash.
Denise's posture begins to sag. Dispirited.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
I wish I had more for you at this
time. Our thoughts are with you
and your family. I need to check
back in with the command post. Try


                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (cont'd)
to realize too, that we've never
had to deal with something like
this. I know it's difficult, but
we'll find your husband... Alive.
Special Agent Willis exits the tent. Denise bewildered.
Michael staggers around the barn. He looks for another way
out. The ALARM still BLARING. Michael follows stairs into...
Bails of hay dominate a large part of the loft. Michael
HOBBLES to a cart. Sits down. Michael attends to his wound.
He checks the cell phone. Battery low. Quickly calls 911.
The ALARM continues to BLARE.
                       911 DISPATCH (O.S.)
911, Fire or medical?
                       MICHAEL (over phone)
This is Michael Fisch. There has
been an assassination attempt on
my life. I'm hurt and I need help!
                       911 DISPATCH (O.S.)
I can't hear you. You're going to
have to turn down your T.V.
Michael lowers the phone, glances below. His eyes wide. More
Militia enter...
... The barn. The Militia stop. They study the massive barn.
The Militia spread out searching. Military like.
                       MILITIA 2
Michael drops the phone. He fumbles about the hay for it.


Militia 4 opens the pick-up door. SWITCHES the ALARM off. He
turns on the headlights.
Militia 3 finds a bank of light switches. He FLICKS the
SWITCHES on. An array of lights turn on, but only one side.
Militia 3 follows the trail of blood. He signals the other
two. They walk around the truck. Militia 1's corpse lies on
the ground. His eyes gaze into the ceiling.
                       MILITIA 2
He's dead. That SOB killed him.
                       MILITIA 3
Fisch must have his gun. Shit!
Militia 4 SLAMS his FIST against the pick-up. The Militia
intensify their search.
The loft illuminated more. An object on the wall catches
Michael's gaze. He contemplates...
Michael finds the phone. Snaps it back up. He leans over the
loft, scanning -- The Militia Spot Michael.
                       MILITIA 3 (O.S.)
There! He's up there!
The Militia FIRE in the direction of the loft. Bullets SAIL
by Michael. WOOD SPLINTERS out from gunfire. He ducks down.
                       MICHAEL (into phone)
Help! Send HELP!
The CELL PHONE BEEPS. The screen dark. Michael closes his
eyes. He grimaces with frustration. He tosses the phone.
Michael reaches for the object on the wall. Removes it. Sets
it. Masks it with hay. Undetectable.
Militia 2 and 3 sprint up the stairs. Militia 4 climbs up a
ladder opposite of the stairs. Michael surrounded.


Michael hears FOOTSTEPS. His eyes alarmed. He leaps back
onto the cart. The cart glides across the floor. In one
motion he rolls off of the cart and into the hay.
The Militia rapidly approach. They sweep the hay loft.
                       MILITIA 3
Where is he?
Militia 3 walks through the hay, scanning... SNAP!
                       MILITIA 3
Fuck! It's a bear trap!
Militia 3 grasps his mauled leg. His pant leg tattered and
bloodied. He agonizes.
Militia 2 dashes towards Militia 3. The vibration alerts
Michael. Concealed by the hay, Michael kicks his good leg up
and trips Militia 2. Militia 2 TUMBLES violently to the
floor. His ASSAULT RIFLE rests adjacent to Michael.

Michael pauses... He reluctantly lunges for the assault
rifle. He CRACKS Militia 3 in the RIBS. The two struggle for
control. Militia 3 YANKS the rifle from Michael, just as
Michael lets go of the rifle. Off balance, Militia 3 falls
from the loft and lands on the concrete below. Blood pools
outward onto the floor.
Militia 4 aims, squeezes the trigger -- The gun Jams.

Michael swipes a pitchfork off the wall. He launches it at
Militia 4. The pitchfork lodges in Militia 4's torso.
Militia 4 grasps at the pitchfork as he stumbles backwards.
He topples down the stairs.
Militia 2 turns and EMPTIES his PISTOL at Michael. Michael
springs back onto the cart as he avoids the gunfire. The
cart jets across the floor of the loft, away from Militia 2.
The CART CRASHES into bales of hay. Michael is thrown off.
He scampers behind the hay. He Peers around the corner.
Militia 2 lowers his pistol. He POPS out the magazine.
Reaches for another... Michael HOBBLES towards him,
advancing... Militia 2 sees Michael . He hastily SLAMS the
new MAGAZINE into his pistol. He cocks it... Michael vaults
onto Militia 2. The two wrestle on the floor, neither one
with the advantage. They rise to their feet. Militia 2
repeatedly kicks Michael in the leg. Michael GASPS...


                       MILITIA 2
Does that hurt you pussy! Huh?
Does it?
Michael drops to one knee. Militia 2 snatches up his 9mm
from the floor. He turns towards Michael... Michael lunges
at Militia 2. They both SMASH through the HAY DOOR and
plummet into the darkness onto...
On a loaded hay trailer. Militia 2 STRIKES the edge of the
trailer. His body falls hard to the ground. His body frozen.

Michael lands in the middle of the trailer, onto some hay
bales. He grasps his back.
Son Of A --
Dazed, Michael staggers off of the trailer. The shimmer from
the pistol on the ground catches Michael's eye. He limps
towards the pistol. Michael hovers over the pistol. He
stares at it. His gaze broken as three sets of headlights
close fast. Michael surveys the area. He turns away.
Three vehicles race towards Michael. GUNFIRE ERUPTS! Bullets
surround a weakened Michael. Michael's eyes wide with panic.
He inspects the area. The moonlight reveals a cornfield.
Michael disappears into the cornfield.

The vehicles slide to a stop in front of the cornfield.
Militia spring from their vehicles.
Shit! He's in the cornfield!
A group of Militia jump out, led by Duncan.
We hunt him and we kill him. Fisch
is not our equal. Lets go!


      (points to trailer)
I'll take that spot up there. If
you flush him out. He's dead!
We finish this now, before the
Secret Service arrive!
Duncan and Safer RACE off in a jeep. Stark and Simmons hop
in the RED jeep. Stark throws it in gear. They speed off.
A Billboard for the Halloween season stands erect in front
of the cornfield. The sign reads "THE AREA'S BIGGEST AND
BEST CORN MAZE." The maze is that of the Presidential Seal.
Hey! Guys, look at this Bull Shit!
Brightwood DRIVES his FIST into the billboard.
      (shakes his hand)
Shit! That hurts!
      (kicks some corn)
The Militia grin at one another.
The Militia, equipped with sophisticated night vision and
on as they enter --
The hunt begins! The Militia BRUSH through the CORN.
Michael scampers through the mud on his hands and knees. He
turns, stops and listens -- Some distance between himself
and the Militia. Michael stands up. Contemplates...
                       BRIGHTWOOD (over headset)
Corn Maze or not, I'm going to
kill this son of a bitch!
                       MILITIA 5 (over headset)
No sign of him.
                       HOLLISTER (O.S.)
Maybe this will help?


Hollister launches several smoke grenades into the air. The
smoke grenades engulf the cornfield.
MICHAEL COUGHS again, hunched over as he eludes the Militia.
                       BRIGHTWOOD (over headset)
That SOB's up ahead of us!
                       MILITIA 5 (over headset)
Take him out!
The Militia randomly SHOOT in Michael's direction. CORN
STALKS SNAP in half. The BULLETS miss their target. The
Militia push forward.
                       HOLLISTER (O.S.)
You guys surround him. Either push
him to Stark or to me!
Michael stops at a fork in the corn-maze. He tries to catch
his breath...
                       BRIGHTWOOD (over headset)
Someone shoot him in the leg.
      (bends over
       gasping for air)
I can't... I can't keep this up.
Michael, one step ahead, keep the Militia confused.
                       MILITIA 5 (over headset)
I think we lost him again.
Fisch! Hey Fisch! After I finish
you off, I'm going to slaughter
your family!
                       HOLLISTER (O.S.)
Adam, what the hell are you doing?
                       BRIGHTWOOD (over headset)
I'm fucking with Fisch! Trying to
give himself up. This chasing shit
is not for me!


Brightwood tears off his head-set and goggles. He launches
them to the ground. He pushes forward.
The Militia continue to sweep the cornfield.
Michael... Trapped from both sides... Backs up. He tries to
slip through some corn and out of the maze....
                       BRIGHTWOOD (over headset)
I hear him! He's real close!
Brightwood LURKS quietly towards Michael.
Brightwood raises his AR15. Slowly he pushes the barrel of
the weapon into the corn... His finger on the trigger...
Militia 5 spots Michael attempting to elude them. Militia 5
sprints towards Michael. He aims. He FIRES!
Brightwood SQUEEZES the trigger --
                       MILITIA 5 (O.S.)
Michael BRUSHES the CORN. Michael dives to the ground and
covers up... BULLETS WHISTLE directly over his head. The
cornfield is illuminated with brief bursts of gunfire.
                       BRIGHTWOOD (O.S.)
Hey! I think I shot --
Brightwood and three other Militia catch themselves --

-- In their own crossfire. The Militia slump to the ground
and collapse into the corn.
                       HOLLISTER (O.S.)
Someone tell me you got Fisch!
Brightwood planted on his back in the mud. He gazes up at
Michael. Corn stalks lie upon his bleeding body. Brightwood
holds his bloody hands up in the moonlight. He swallows
hard. His breath becomes invisible.
Michael hobbles out of the cornfield. A RED Jeep pursues.
Stark shines his search light directly at Michael.


Don't let him get to the river!
Hollister pops up. Aims. He FIRES at Michael.
The Militia pursue in the RED JEEP. BUMPING over the
TERRAIN. Trees along the river hinder their progress.
Michael cutoff, slides down the bank and plunges into the...
Michael swims to a log. He pulls himself onto it. Stark
SHOOTS at Michael. BULLETS SPLASH all around Michael. Stark
enraged as he watches Michael float away.
Stark kicks a tire on the RED jeep. He phones Duncan.
                       STARK (over phone)
He's in the river.
                       DUNCAN (O.S.)
I'll turn around.
Duncan SLAMS his PHONE down. He POUNDS the DASHBOARD. His
bottom lip curling up.
Turn around!
Duncan checks his watch. The faint sound of Helicopters in
the distance. His eyes wide with rage!
In and out of consciousness, Michael shivers in the cold
river. His TEETH CHATTER. He succumbs and passes out.


Heavy fog blankets the region. Special Agent Willis talks on
his cell while he studies road maps on a table.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS (over phone)
This storm's low ceiling provides
poor visibility for the choppers.
Agent Coleman approaches Special Agent Willis. Special Agent
Willis hangs up.
                       AGENT COLEMAN
We received a call from a 911
dispatcher who thinks he received
a call from Fisch. We've
pinpointed where it was placed.
Special Agent Willis checks his watch. 0630.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
Send them in. Prey that we find
him first. I'll brief Mrs. Fisch.
The men start to exit the tent. Special Agent Willis grabs
Agent Coleman's arm. Coleman leans back.
                       SPECIAL AGENT WILLIS
And do this quietly. With all the
media swarming around, if they get
wind of this, heaven help us.
JENNY HA, 20's, stands under an umbrella in this miserable
weather. The wind pushes her hair into her face. Rows of
news trucks behind her, as she is going live with a NEWS
As America wakes up to another
day, they're shocked at the
horrifying news that Presidential
hopeful Michael Fisch has had an
assassination attempt on his life.
Live video from cities all over the US. Flags at half mast.
Homeowners hang flags as if it was a national holiday.
                       HA (O.S.)
This morning, as flags blanket the
country, a bi-partisan America
waits with anticipation, for any


                       HA (cont'd)
news of a rising political star.
DUSK. A thick layer of fog hovers over the river. RUSHING
WATER awakens Michael. Motionless on the log. Michael looks
around... Ahead, the river... Disappears.

Michael shakes the cobwebs from his head. He starts to swim
upstream. Useless. The current pulls at him until --
Stark drives a RED jeep along a seldom used gravel road
adjacent to the river. Simmons leans out of the jeep
searching. The powerful waterfall catches their GAZE.

Hollister walks along the riverbank, searching. The GREEN
jeep not too far off.
Look! Up there. Is that ... Holy
shit, it's Fisch!
The jeep rolls to a stop. Watching as...
Michael SNATCHES at vines floating in the river. Current too
strong. River drags him closer to the waterfall. He looks at
the waterfall. Back again at the vines. He lunges for them
again. His hand SNATCHES the tips. Michael clenches the
vines securely. The log disappears over the waterfall.

Michael swings on the vines and lands on a...
Awkwardly and lets out a HORRIFIC SCREAM.

BULLETS RICOCHET all around Michael. The Militia relentless
in their GUNFIRE. Michael Immediately dives...


-- Into a group of tall fir trees. Invisible. Catlike, he
works his way down limb by limb. From the base of the tree,
Hollister searches for Michael.
Hollister looks up. He peers through his scope. Searching...
He spots Michael! He hastily attempts to shoot Michael.
Michael trapped! Michael dives out of the tree, falling...

onto Hollister. Hollister topples to the ground. His head
smashes into a boulder. Blood pours from his head.
Hollister's GUN bounces into the river with a SPLASH!

Michael drags himself up. Looking anything but Presidential.
Did you just see that shit? Who
the hell is this guy?
Here we go again. Duncan is gonna
be pissed!
Michael limps towards the green jeep.
Michael pulls his failing body into the GREEN jeep. He
STARTS the GREEN jeep and STOMPS on the accelerator. Leaves
and debris propelled into the air. Michael races off. The
Militia close quickly.
Stark FIRES at the GREEN jeep. A rear TIRE EXPLODES!
Hey! Remember, the explosives!
Michael races down a seldom-used dirt access road. The
fishtailing GREEN jeep hard to control. He reaches a county
road and heads west. The RED jeep continues to pursue.


Stark phones Duncan on his cell.
                       STARK (over phone)
He's headed northeast, away from
the river... In one of our jeeps.
                       DUNCAN (O.S.)
The Secret Service will be onto us
at any second... Kill him!
                       STARK (over phone)
I know! We need to cut him off
before he reaches somebdody.
                       DUNCAN (O.S.)
He's south of me. I'm headed to
you. We'll cut him off. Be ready!
Stark tosses the phone down.
He's pissed. Probably shoot us
after we finish off Fisch.
I'm not the least bit surprised.
This guy's going to get us killed!
Side by side, the two jeeps engage in a chase up the windy
road. The RED jeep SLAMS into the GREEN jeep. The two JEEPS
GRINDING down the road. Michael breaks free.

RED jeep SWIPES at the GREEN jeep. Michael STOMPS the
BRAKES. The JEEP SKIDS to a halt. RED jeep misses GREEN jeep
Holy SHI --
PLUNGES over the cliff. RED jeep EXPLODES into a ball of
fire as it tumbles down the rocky mountainside.