by Peter Ackers
nick
Not complaining. Just surprised. Half a bottle of gin and one and a half sleeping tablets. . . you’ll sleep through an earthquake. It’s not even nine, and you want to sleep till eleven tomorrow? Fourteen hours?
wendy
I need catch-up. Stop arguing. Kiss my cheek and let me sleep and I’ll be fine in the morning.
Nick moves over as she climbs into bed.
nick
Dave, one of my security guards at the museum, he likes to tell jokes.
wendy
I know. But you don’t let him finish. You like to work out the punchline. You’ve told me. And you’ve told me his dirty jokes. What’s the latest gem from his poetic throat?
nick
What’s the difference between a bowling ball and a prostitute?
wendy
I don’t know and hope never to. Goodnight.
He kisses her cheek, pulls the covers up to her neck, and leaves the room, turning OFF the light as he goes. He’s shutting the door when she says:
wendy
Shut the door.
joe’s bedroom
Nick enters. He leans over Joe, who playfully scratches his dad’s face.
nick
Sorry, little man. No cagefighting for you tonight. I could sneak you in, but mumsie would suddenly remember she left her book or earrings or something in the living room. And dadsie needs to keep mumsie sweet cos he hasn’t had sex in nearly two weeks.
Joe LAUGHS. Clearly he doesn’t understand what was said, but Nick finds this funny anyway and also LAUGHS.
He picks up a small fluffy giraffe toy and puts it by Joe’s head. Joe grabs it, tightly.
nick
Now I’m going to go make your supper. What is it you normally have at night? Eggs and bacon or cottage pie? Oh no, it’s Milk, isn’t it? Sorry about that. But eggs will still be around in three years, so don’t worry. Until then, just milk, I’m afraid. One bottle for in a bit and another for the dead wee hours when you cry daddy awake and he wishes he’d worn a condom.
Joe LAUGHS again, and this makes Nick LAUGH. He plucks the parent unit from his pocket. Holds it up.
nick
Give me a call when you need it. And don’t get mentally disturbed by daddy’s crude jokes.
He kisses Joe on the cheek, looks at him for a short while, and leaves the room. He turns OFF the light, shuts the door.
living room
A quaint mix of old furniture and new technology. As we arrive here, the TV is showing CAGEFIGHTING and Nick is turning the sofa into its bed alter-ego. He throws a quilt on top, head turned to watch the fighting. He puts the parent unit on one of the chair’s arms and flops down on the mattress. He looks at the clock on the wall.
INSERT:
CLOCK
The time is 8.25.
Nick sighs.
nick
Fifteen more hours before I can stop worrying. I don’t know how she does this every night.
kitchen
Nick is here, eating toast with one hand while preparing bottles to go in the steriliser with the other. The cartons of baby milk are beside the machine.
bathroom
Nick is taking a leak.
living room
CLOCK: 20.40.
Nick is lying on his front at the foot of the bed, still watching cagefighting. He has a can of lager and nearly spills some as he jerks at something important happening in the fight. He jerks again as he hears a static-coated noise from the parent unit: BABY JOE COUGHING. Then silence. Nick just smiles.
And now another noise: BEEPING O.S. Nick leans close to the parent unit.
nick (into receiver)
Bottles are done, little man. I know you can’t hear me, one-way conversation and all, so I don’t know why I’m telling you this.
He gets off the bed and leaves the room shot.
FOCUS ON THE PARENT UNIT.
Moments later, STRANGE NOISES emit from the UNIT. Not a baby’s voice or even baby movement: something more, heavier. Something you wouldn’t want to hear from a baby monitor in a room where your lone child sleeps.
It lasts a good five seconds, then all is silent again. Ten seconds later, Nick re-enters the room, carrying one baby bottle and one carton of baby milk, which is torn open.
nick
This smells okay, little man. I might have this for my tea and you can have the Cravendale. I’ll owe you a bacon roll in three years.
He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV, starts to pour the milk into the bottle, and REACTS and spills some over his hand as we hear a MUFFLED LOUD BANG from O.S.
nick
Shit. That bastard gate.
He puts down the bottle and the carton and hauls aside the heavy curtains, exposing patio doors. The GATE BANGS SHUT AGAIN. Nick unlocks and pulls open the patio door.
EXT. haynes house, rear - NIGHT
A long garden. Concrete slabbing near the house, lawn beyond. It’s DARK. Nick exits through the sliding patio door and steps out in his bare feet, moving cautiously towards the swinging gate. A window in the wall is slightly open. As Nick passes it, he stumbles, his feet caught up in something. He bends and picks it up. It looks remarkably like the blanket that was laid over baby Joe. Nick’s face drops and we see the puzzlement.
He pulls open the ajar window.
INT. haynes house, joe’s bedroom - NIGHT
It is DARK because the light is off, but we can see well enough to notice that the baby’s cot is empty. Nick’s head pokes through the window. He looks quite shocked now.
nick
Joe?
(louder)
Wendy? Wendy? You got Joe?
EXT. haynes house, rear - NIGHT
Nick jumps as the GATE SLAMS in the wind again, pulling himself away from the window. He spins, looking around, lost in obvious confusion.
Now we hear the sounds of CAR DOORS SLAMMING and an ENGINE STARTING UP.
Nick perks up at the noises. He catches the gate before it can slam again and goes through. We
FOLLOW
As he rushes along the drive and past his car, to:
EXT. haynes house, front - NIGHT
The front garden. His head goes everywhere, in turmoil, because he cannot fathom what is going on here.
On the dark street, nothing moves, except for a fifteen year-old Volkswagen Polo creeping slowly away from the kerb about twenty metres up the road. No lights on. Nick sees it. Something’s not right about this car, all dark and creeping.
Nick moves towards it at a walk, not chasing, just curious, unsure. He doesn’t know what’s going on here. But that’s when the TYRES SCREECH and the car races away. The penny doesn’t so much drop as jet fires. Nick rushes out into the street.
nick (shouting)
Hey. Hey! Stop!
But the Polo gains rapid speed and is gone.
FOLLOW
As Nick hammers along after the car, no longer waving because he knows that will do no good.
EXT. haynes street - NIGHT
The street is long, all houses, but no one is around. Nick begins to slow, panting hard, adrenaline having robbed him of stamina. He is yelling in the street.
nick (shouting)
Hey, help me. Stop that car someone.
It isn’t late and this is a residential street, but there’s no one to hear and no one to stop the car.
further along
The car has pulled a good lead and now the LIGHTS come on.
back on nick
Nick stumbles awkwardly in his bare feet and grinds to a stop. He PANTS, watching the car pull away. But then he sees the BRAKE LIGHTS come on: the car is stopping at traffic lights at the crossroads. This sight seems to fill Nick’s depleted energy meter and he’s off again in pursuit.
But the lights turn green and the car turns left and vanishes, and Nick’s a good hundred metres back and running on an empty tank.
FOLLOW NICK
As he thunders on, staggering, his feet suffer
ing on the coarse tarmac. Now that his mind isn’t focussed on the car and he seems to be running for nothing, the pain from pounding bare flesh into the road is making a statement.
EXT. main street - NIGHT
Eventually he reaches the corner, turns, runs out into the middle of the crossroads and stops, his chest on fire. He’s a museum curator and he isn’t used to this kind of explosive exertion.
UP AHEAD we see that this road is busier, with a few shops open for trading and cars going this way and that. Nick drops to his knees and the emotions overtake him and the tears fall.
But then they stop, and we see from his face there’s a development.
further along
We see the Polo slow again, the brake lights brilliant red, and the car turns another left, but not this time out of sight around a corner. No, this time towards a neon red giant M sign: a McDonald’s restaurant.
BACK ON NICK
Nick is up and running again, down the middle of the road, and we
FOLLOW
As he belts along, ignoring the traffic that approaches from behind him, HORNS BEEPING as vehicles overtake. The McDonald’s restaurant looms, too slowly, though.
MCDONALD’S
A car exits the car park and joins the flow, soon to be lost to Nick forever, but this isn’t the car he pursues.
FOLLOWING NICK
As he thunders closer.
MCDONALD’S
Two more vehicles exit and speed away, a big blue Mercedes Vito Panel Van and a motorbike.
FOLLOWING NICK
Twenty metres from the entrance to the car park and Nick lets out a lion-like ROAR of anger as he sees the Polo exit the carpark fast and zip across the road and into the housing estate opposite. Were we eagle-eyed enough to see three People in the car?
