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Dreamsongs 2-Book Bundle

Page 87

by George R. R. Martin


  Can you keep a secret?

  Megan nods solemnly.

  JEFF

  (conspiratorially)

  When I was a kid, I had lots of bad dreams. And monsters.

  MEGAN

  (wide-eyed)

  Monsters?

  JEFF

  In the closet, under the bed, everywhere. Then my dad told me the secret. After that I wasn’t scared anymore.

  (whispers in her ear)

  Monsters can’t get you if you hide under the blankets!

  MEGAN

  They can’t?

  JEFF

  (solemn, definite)

  Those are the rules. Even monsters have to obey the rules.

  Megan pulls up her blankets and ducks underneath, giggling.

  JEFF

  That’s my girl.

  (lifts blankets, tickles her)

  But blankets can’t hide you from daddies.

  They tussle playfully for a moment. Then Jeff kisses her, tucks her back in.

  JEFF

  Now go to sleep, you hear?

  Megan nods, ducks under the blanket. Jeff smiles, goes to the door, and pauses to look back before turning out the light.

  JEFF’S POINT OF VIEW

  Of the room, the bed, Megan’s small form huddled under the blankets, the scattered toys. He flicks the switch.

  SMASH CUT TO

  INT.—HUT IN VIETNAM—NIGHT

  Everything is the same; everything is grotesquely different. The walls and roof are thatched, the floor is dirt. The arrangement of objects is a distorted echo of Megan’s room. Outside the window a nearby fire illuminates the scene (instead of a streetlamp). In a dark corner, where the stuffed animal lay in Megan’s room, a body slumps instead. Every toy, block, and object from Megan’s room has a counterpart placed identically; pots and pans, a rag doll, a gun, etc. The bed is a pile of straw, and the blanket is ragged, but there’s still a child’s body beneath. Only now there’s a dark stain spreading on the cloth. We HEAR Jeff’s shocked gasp. The Vietnam shot should be held very briefly, almost a subliminal. Then Jeff turns the light back on and we

  SMASH CUT TO

  MEGAN’S ROOM

  As before. Everything is normal.

  CLOSE ON JEFF

  Disoriented, confused, he stares for a beat, shakes his head.

  BACK TO THE SCENE

  Jeff turns off the light again. This time nothing happens. He closes the door softly, and we FOLLOW him downstairs.

  LIVING ROOM

  Denise is glancing over some legal briefs, oversized glasses on the end of her nose. She glances up at Jeff, and notices something in his expression that makes her put away the papers.

  DENISE

  What’s wrong? You look like death warmed over.

  JEFF

  (still shaken)

  It’s nothing … I thought … ah, it’s absurd. Like daughter like father, I guess.

  (forced laugh)

  The “man” was a chair full of clothes.

  DENISE

  She’s got your imagination.

  JEFF

  I wondered who took it.

  DENISE

  She’s okay, though?

  Jeff seats himself, picks up the remote control, turns the movie back on just in time for the “Keep watching the skies” speech.

  JEFF

  Sure.

  CUT TO

  MEGAN’S ROOM

  The girl is huddled under the blankets in the soft glow of her nightlight. We HEAR her soft, steady breathing. The camera MOVES IN slowly, with the faint SOUND of a wheelchair moving across a hardwood floor.

  CLOSE ON MEGAN

  As a shadow falls across her. She does not stir, not even when a man’s hand moves in from off camera, grasps the corner of her blanket, and pulls it back with ominous slowness.

  FADE OUT

  FADE BACK IN

  INT.—CLASSROOM—THE NEXT DAY

  A college lecture hall. Twenty-odd students are watching and taking notes while Jeff paces in front of the class, tossing a stub of chalk idly as he lectures. On the blackboard is written NY JOURNAL—HEARST and NY WORLD—PULITZER.

  JEFF

  —when Remington complained that he couldn’t find a war, Hearst supposedly cabled him back and said, “You provide the pictures. I’ll provide the war.” Now, that anecdote is probably apocryphal, but the role the yellow press played in whipping up war fervor was beyond dispute.

  A sullen dark-haired student with the look of a jock interrupts the lecture before Jeff can proceed.

  JOCK

  At least they were on our side.

  Jeff stops, looks at him, sits on the edge of his desk.

  JEFF

  You have a point to make, Mueller?

  JOCK

  (points at board)

  These guys, at least they were behind our boys. The real yellow journalists were the ones who ran down everything we did in Nam.

  JEFF

  (drily)

  Not every war can be as box office as Hearst’s little shoot-emup, I guess.

  JOCK

  Yeah, well, at least we won that one. We could have won in Nam too.

  JEFF

  I wouldn’t go that far, Mueller. You need to spend more time with your text and less with Rambo.

  The class breaks into laughter, but the jock looks angry. Before Jeff can resume his lecture, the class bell RINGS. The students begin to rise, gather up their books, etc.

  JEFF

  Remember, chapter twelve of Emery is due by next week.

  He puts down the chalk and begins to clear his papers into a briefcase as the students file out. The jock lingers until he and Jeff are alone. He steps up to the desk. Physically he is bigger than Jeff, who closes the briefcase and looks up at him.

  JOCK

  So where were you during Nam, Mister McDowell?

  The two men lock eyes for a long, solid beat. It is Jeff who breaks and looks away first, his eyes averted as he replies.

  JEFF

  (brusquely)

  I was in school. Not that it’s any of your business.

  He brushes past, walking a little faster than necessary, while the jock watches him go.

  CUT TO

  EXT.—DAY CARE PARKING LOT—DAY

  Denise and Megan emerge from a Day Care Center, and cross the parking lot to her Volvo. Denise, on her way home from work, is dressed in a chic tailored suit, carrying a briefcase. As she unlocks the car, we HEAR the sound of a wheelchair.

  ANGLE OVER VET’S SHOULDER AT DENISE

  In f.g., we see a man’s shoulder and the back of his head. Denise backs out of the parking spot, turns toward the camera.

  ANGLE ON CAR

  As it passes we get a quick glimpse of a legless man in a wheelchair (THE VET) turning to follow it with his eyes. He is long-haired, bearded, his trousers pinned up at mid-thigh, wearing a shapeless olive drab jacket without badges. We should not see his face clearly.

  CLOSE ON MEGAN

  staring out the car window, she SEES the Vet, follows him with her eyes until they turn a corner.

  TIME CUT TO

  EXT.—MCDOWELL HOUSE—EVENING

  Denise pulls up and parks the Volvo in the driveway, behind Jeff’s modest Datsun. The house is a two-story suburban tract home; pleasant, respectable, in a decent neighborhood, but nothing too large or expensive. A comfortable middle-class sort of house.

  CUT TO

  INT.—KITCHEN

  Denise & Megan enter, to find Jeff tossing a salad. A small TV set sits on the counter, and Jeff watches the news from the corner of his eye. The newscaster is reading a story about El Salvador. An open bottle of wine and half-empty glass are close at hand. Jeff turns when they enter.

  JEFF

  Roast beef, baked potatoes, tossed salad, and wine.

  (kisses Megan)

  Except for you. You get milk.

  (to Denise)

  So how does that sound?

  DENISE


  Like paradise regained.

  (to Megan)

  Go wash up, honey.

  Megan rushes off upstairs.

  DENISE

  So what’s wrong?

  JEFF

  Wrong? What makes you think something’s wrong?

  Denise gives him a rueful smile, picks up the wine bottle, sloshes it thoughtfully.

  DENISE

  Clues, Sherlock. The last time you served wine was the day your car got banged up in the school lot. What is it this time?

  Jeff looks as though he’s going to deny it, then stops, shrugs. She knows him too well.

  JEFF

  This morning in class, a student asked me where I was during Vietnam.

  (beat, grimace)

  I told him I was in school.

  DENISE

  You were. I remember it distinctly. I was there with you, remember?

  JEFF

  I left out the part about the school being in Canada.

  DENISE

  It’s none of his business anyway.

  JEFF

  That’s what I said. I just feel …

  (beat, hesitant)

  I don’t know. Guilty. Like I did something wrong. Dumb, huh?

  He opens the oven, pokes at the roast with a long fork.

  JEFF

  Well, it didn’t moo. I think it’s done.

  CUT TO

  INT.—DINING ROOM

  Denise is filling bowls of salad as Jeff carries the roast out on a platter. Megan has not yet reappeared. Denise goes to the stairs to call.

  DENISE

  Megan! Come on down, Hon, dinner’s ready.

  A beat, then a DOOR CLOSES upstairs and Megan comes down. Denise takes her by the hand, frowns.

  DENISE

  Megan, you didn’t wash up.

  MEGAN

  The man was upstairs, Mommy. He talked to me.

  DENISE

  (put upon)

  Honestly. Come on, let’s get you scrubbed up for dinner.

  We TRACK with them as they go up the stairs and into the bathroom. Kneeling, Denise takes a facecloth and begins to wash a dirty spot off of Megan’s face.

  DENISE

  Honey, it’s okay to play pretend, but you shouldn’t try to blame someone else when you forget to do something.

  MEGAN

  It’s not pretend, Mommy.

  DENISE

  There, that’s a little better.

  She puts down the washcloth, looks at Megan’s reflection in the mirror, smiles. We move in TIGHT on the mirror as Denise’s eyes rise. Behind them, the open bathroom door is reflected, and outside in the hallway, sitting in his wheelchair, is the Vet. Denise spins around, and off her shocked reaction we

  CUT TO

  DINING ROOM

  Jeff grabs a baked potato, winces as it burns his fingers, tosses it onto a plate, and then reacts as we HEAR Denise scream O.S. He’s up like a shot, running for the stairs.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  on the staircase, as he almost runs into Denise coming down.

  JEFF

  What’s wrong?

  DENISE

  (frantic)

  Where is he? Did he come past you?

  JEFF

  (confused)

  What? Come past me? Who?

  DENISE

  The man in the wheelchair.

  (impatient, off Jeff’s confusion)

  He was there, in the mirror … I mean, he was in the hall, but I saw him in the mirror, and then … he must have come by you!

  JEFF

  (baffled)

  A man in a wheelchair?

  He takes Denise by the shoulders, tries to calm her down.

  JEFF

  (continued)

  I think I would have noticed a man in a wheelchair, honey. Besides, how the hell could anyone get a chair down these stairs?

  Denise gapes at the narrow steps, realizes that Jeff is right. But she knows she saw the Vet; she’s totally lost.

  DENISE

  He was there, I tell you. If he didn’t come down—

  (whirls, scared he’s still up there)

  Megan appears at the top of the stairs, calm, unafraid.

  MEGAN

  He’s gone, Mommy.

  Denise wraps her in a tight hug.

  MEGAN

  Don’t be scared, Mommy. He’s a nice man.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  as he watches wife and daughter embrace.

  JEFF

  There is no way anyone could have gotten out of this house.

  What the hell is going on here?

  (starts up stairs)

  Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.

  JEFF’S POINT OF VIEW

  As he moves upstairs, down the carpeted hall, slamming open doors, peering into the rooms, finding nothing. Bathroom, linen closet, Megan’s room, the master bedroom and bath; all empty.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  Standing in his bedroom, looking angry, disgusted. He starts back out into the hall, takes a few steps … and stops dead outside the bathroom. He drops to one knee, reaches out.

  CLOSE ON CARPET

  As Jeff traces the clear, unmistakable track of a wheelchair tire in the thick shag carpet.

  JEFF

  What the …

  SMASH CUT TO

  CLOSE ON MUDDY GROUND

  Matching shot, the motion of Jeff’s fingers CONTINUOUS from the last shot, but now the carpet is mud, the tracks are footprints, and Jeff’s sleeve is an army uniform.

  EXT.—JUNGLE TRAIL—DAY—JEFF’S POINT OF VIEW

  Jeff looks up from the footprints. It’s a jungle trail in Vietnam, narrow, overgrown, thick foliage all around. A black grunt stands a few feet away: a kid, no more than nineteen, his uniform dirty, a crude bandage wrapped around a head wound and soaked with blood. He’s holding an M-16.

  GRUNT

  Hey, man, what’s wrong?

  JEFF

  As he staggers to his feet. It’s Vietnam, he’s in cammies, an M-16 slung over his shoulder. He can’t believe any of it. He gapes—at himself, the trees, the gun, at everything.

  GRUNT

  (disgusted, scared)

  Don’t freak on me, Spaceman. I need you, man.

  Jeff backs away from him, shaking his head.

  JEFF

  No. No way. This can’t be—

  He backs hard into a tree, stumbles. He’s lost. When the grunt approaches, Jeff shrinks away from him.

  JEFF

  Stay away from me!

  GRUNT

  (confused)

  What the hell’s wrong? It’s me, man!

  He grabs Jeff by the shoulders, shakes him as Jeff struggles.

  GRUNT

  Cut it out, man. It’s me! Hey, Spaceman, it’s only me.

  CLOSE ON JEFF

  as the grunt shakes him.

  GRUNT (O.S.)

  It’s me, man. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me …

  Off Jeff’s SCREAM, we

  SMASH CUT TO

  INT.—HALLWAY

  Where Denise has a hysterical Jeff by the shoulders, shaking him, shouting at him.

  DENISE

  … it’s me, Jeff. It’s only me! It’s me!

  Jeff suddenly realizes that he’s back, wrenches free, staggers back away from her, panting.

  JEFF

  I … I … where … my God, what happened to me?

  DENISE

  I heard you yelling. When I came up, you were on the floor. It was like you were terrified of me.

  JEFF

  It wasn’t you!

  (beat, confused)

  I mean … I don’t … Denise, I was … here, and then suddenly I wasn’t … I was in Nam!

  (beat, continues off Denise’s worried look)

  I know. It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

  DENISE

  (timidly)

  Maybe … I don’t know … maybe you had some kind of … flashback or something?

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