DYING TIME a short spec script by Christene Britton-Jones & Ran Cartwright
based on the short story “Dying Time” by Christene Britton-Jones
DYING TIME FADE IN EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD - DAY SANDY, a drop dead gorgeous petite early twenties ghost, hitchhikes along the road. She’s dressed in black biker leather. Her long black hair cascades around her shoulders. An Alpha Romeo convertible approaches from behind. Sandy’s hair is caught up in the wind draft. ELSEWHERE in the Alpha Romeo The DRIVER sees Sandy as he races past. His eyes dart to the rear view mirror. He slams on the brakes and the car slides off the side of the road a few yards beyond. ALPHA ROMEO DRIVER (eyes on rearview mirror, soft) Oh Wow, baby. (grin broadens) Come to Papa. He sits waiting for her, the engine idling. She approaches. He glances over a shoulder, a sly grin, then leans over the passenger seat to open the door. Sandy stops at the door and leans over to gaze into his eyes. She smiles, purposely gives the Driver a full view of her breasts barely contained within her small black leather and lace top. The Driver’s grin widens. With a sharp inhale, he lets out a long low whistle as he exhales. DRIVER Well, sweetheart, you certainly have what it takes.
Sandy’s smile widens. A shadow suddenly looms at the driver’s side door and slides across the inside of the car. The Driver turns; the shadow passes over his face. The Driver freezes in horror. SONNY stands at the Driver’s door. Sonny, Sandy’s husband, is a white-faced, worm-eaten and decaying dead guy in his early twenties, in dark glasses, long black duster coat and an Australian Barmah hat, and just as much a ghost as Sandy. Sonny levels the biggest and longest 12 gauge double barrel shotgun the Driver has ever seen. The Driver’s eyes widen as he stares down the barrels. Sonny wedges the barrels against the Driver’s forehead. Both barrels fire with a THUNDEROUS CLAP. Hot wet blood, bone, skin, and brain spray all over the interior of the Alpha Romeo. The surprised Driver slumps over. SONNY (grumbles) This is one car that won’t be delivered by this slick son of a bitch. Sandy, now also white-faced, worm-eaten and decaying, CACKLES. Sonny turns the shotgun up; smoke still trails from its barrel. he glances at the gun. SONNY A little unwieldy. Think I’ll saw the barrels off. An uncanny supernatural mist swirls. The two ghosts walk toward their ghost Harley Davidson chopper that has mysteriously appeared parked along the road only a few feet in front of the car.
The bike’s a black “old school” Harley Panhead chopper with rigid frame, extended forks, pull back bars, king and queen seat, sissy bar, and a custom paint job on the black gas tank – airbrushed bones spelling out the name Bone Shaker. The two ghosts climb on and pull away. Bike and riders disappear into the thickening fog. The sound of the engine fades in the distance until it can no longer be heard. FADE TO BLACK
ACT ONE FADE IN INT. OLD BAR - DAY The place is an old seedy side of the tracks dump. Dim and dusty. A few patrons look equally seedy. The BARTENDER chitchats a couple. A small television pipes a news broadcast. Two ghosts, white-faced, worm-eaten and decaying Sonny and Sandy, sit at one end of the bar near the television Tina Turner’s What’s Love Got to do with It plays softly in the background on a juke box. ON THE TELEVISION a FEMALE and MALE ANCHOR team, the Female wrapping up a story on the Vietnam War Memorial dedication. FEMALE ANCHOR ...the v-shaped wall is inscribed with all those who died in the war. We will bring you the dedication ceremony live. MALE ANCHOR And on to local news, a used car salesman was brutally gunned down this morning... EXT. OLD BAR PARKING LOT – DAY A YOUNG DUDE pulls into the bar parking lot on a crotch rocket. In the lot are a couple of old cars, an old beat up pickup, and the ghost Harley. The Young Dude’s eyes catch the Harley. He stares as he dismounts the crotch rocket.
INT. OLD BAR – DAY The ghosts watch the shooting news report. An on-scene REPORTER interviews BROGINI, a short pudgy man with ten gallon hat, and owner of BROGINI’S USED CARS where the salesman worked. Brogini’s nervous, sweats, dabs a handkerchief over his forehead. REPORTER Do you have any idea who would want to shoot this bright young man? BROGINI (nervous) None what-so-ever, m’boy. Brogini pauses, looks at the television camera; a sleazy sales pitch change comes over him. BROGINI He was my best salesman, and loved dearly by us all. (smiles, becoming the salesman) You should come down and see the thank you cards from satisfied customers lining his office...and... take a look at our cars... The ghosts exchange glances. SANDY (growls) Disgusting leech.
EXT. OLD BAR PARKING LOT - DAY The Young Dude circles the Ghost Harley. YOUNG DUDE (mutters) Son of a bitch. His eyes catch the custom paint job on the gas tank... YOUNG DUDE Bone Shaker. ...and nearly kicks a helmet lying on the ground next to the Ghost Harley. The Young Dude stops and steps back. INSERT – helmet There’s a sticker on the side of the helmet that reads: Make War not Love. BACK TO SCENE. Hands on hips, the Young Dude shakes his head. YOUNG DUDE Damn nice bike. He turns to the bar entrance. INT. OLD BAR - DAY The television chatters in the patrons are silent. The ghosts pauses; the song changes, then Down filters through the room. The Young Dude walks in. background. The seedy are gone. The juke box Lionel Ritchie’s Can't Slow The front door swings open.
YOUNG DUDE (nods to door) Hey! Who owns the chopper out front? A fuckin’ antique, but it’s cool lookin’!
A few seedy patrons glance at the Young Dude and shrug their shoulders; others ignore him. BARTENDER There ain’t no bike out there. The Young Dude gestures with a thumb over his shoulder. YOUNG DUDE (incredulous) Yeah there is! Got Bone Shaker painted on the gas tank. The Bartender stares at the young Dude. BARTENDER (slow) There ain’t been a Harley parked in front of this joint in years. Those days are long gone. The Young Dude stares at the Bartender in disbelief. He shakes his head, turns, and looks back out the door. EXT. BAR PARKING LOT - DUSK Dusk is settling in; unearthly mist swirls across the parking lot. There’s no ghost Harley. Just the old cars and beat up pickup truck. A sound catches the Young Dude’s ear. Faint and distant, the sound of a bike winding out on some highway. A Harley. EXT. ROAD OVERLOOKING CITY – NIGHT City lights ablaze, the night’s alive. Up on the road sits the Ghost Harley, the decaying ghost bikers looking down on the city. A supernatural mist swirls around them. The bike and riders fade into the mist.
INT. CLUTTERED GARAGE – DAY The garage door is open for light. Sonny at a workbench, shotgun clamped in a bench vice, cuts the barrels off. Another shotgun, already cut, lies on the bench. Two long black coats lie across the end of the bench. Sonny takes the shotgun from the vice, holds up both guns, inspecting them. SONNY (thinks aloud) Works for me. He slips them into leg holsters, grabs both coats, and turns. The ghost Harley is parked in an alley outside the door. Sandy stands in the doorway, sensuously silhouetted black against the outside light, holding up a 45 colt revolver. SONNY Ready? She nods. SANDY Yeah. He tosses a coat to her as he leaves the garage. SONNY Let’s go. They slip into the coats as they approach the bike. EXT. TOWN CEMETERY – DAY (EVENING) Hot and steamy day, late summer. A funeral cortege, hearse and a line of cars, arrive at a burial site. A casket is taken from the hearse and carried to the gravesite. Frail and elderly SANDRA STOCKTON, in wide-brimmed black hat, is helped from the car behind the hearse. There’s the sound of a motorcycle. Sandra slowly turns her head to look.
ON THE CEMETERY ACCESS ROAD as a black chopper with decaying ghost bikers pull up nearby. They sit there in long black coats, stare through dark glasses, the bike idling. Then Sonny cuts the engine. AT THE GRAVE SITE as the mourners trickle to the gravesite. The casket now rests over the grave, a priest ready to start the service. Near the hearse a NEIGHBOR appears at Sandra’s side, Sandra unsteady on her feet. Sandra clings to the Neighbor. SANDRA (soft, glancing at bikers) There’s no respect at all for the bereaved. Not these days. NEIGHBOR (soft) Come, Mrs Stockton. The Neighbor leads Sandra to a chair at the grave. TIME FADE The service is over. Mourners filter to their cars. The bike roars to life. Only Sandra Stockton seems to notice, and looks. ON THE ACCESS ROAD as Sonny opens the throttle and they roar away from the curb and down the street. AT THE GRAVE SIDE as Sandra stares at the spot where the bike had been.
Sandra’s Neighbor suddenly appears at her shoulder. NEIGHBOR Are you going to be alright? Sandra shakes her head. SANDRA Those bikers... NEIGHBOR Bikers? SANDRA (soft) Yes, on the access road. (nods) Over there. The Neighbor turns and looks; there are no bikers. NEIGHBOR I don’t see any... SANDRA (interrupts) They’re gone now. But they were there. EXT. RURAL ROAD – DUSK The road merges with a huge setting sun on the distant horizon. The ghost bikers roar down the road and fade into the shimmer of heat rising from the road, like a fading mirage. END OF ACT ONE FADE TO BLACK
ACT TWO FADE IN EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD - DAY A recent storm causes a landslide on a curve; earth slid downhill away from road edge, a police yellow warning ribbon along edge of the road. Crotchety old TOM SPENCER ignores the yellow ribbon, walks slowly along the ground with his new metal detector. The footing’s somewhat dangerous, still loose and slippery, the ground slightly shifting beneath his feet. CHARLIE THE COP (OC) Hey you! Hey, old man! Spencer looks up, sees CHARLIE THE COP, a middle aged man, and a young FELLOW COP standing by the roadside above. SPENCER (somewhat annoyed) What? WHAT?! CHARLIE THE COP You’re in a cordoned off area. That yellow ribbon means you’re not supposed to be there. FELLOW COP (mutters) He’s gotta be blind as a bat if he doesn’t see that ribbon. Spencer slowly starts back up to the road, carefully watching where he steps. SPENCER I see the ribbon. Dirt crumbles away beneath his footsteps as he moves.
SPENCER Say, weren’t it near here that that car dealer got himself killed a few days back?” CHARLIE THE COP (impatient) Yeah yeah. Just down the road. Spencer nears the edge of the road. Charlie leans forward, offers a hand. CHARLIE THE COP Now come on, give me your hand, old man. Spencer reaches for his hand. SPENCER Name’s Spencer. The metal detector suddenly begins to beep. Spencer stops and glances at the ground at his feet. SPENCER Hold on a second. FELLOW COP You got something there? SPENCER (kneeling) Might have me a gold nugget. Spencer brushes away small rocks and soil, exposes a tarnished and weathered piece of twisted metal. He pauses, sighs, then brushes away more dirt. His eyes go wide and he sits back on his heels. FELLOW COP (impatient) Well, what did you find?
Spencer stares at the skeletal remains of a hand, tattered and aged black leather at the wrist. SPENCER Weren’t a gold nugget. That’s for sure. EXT. CEMETERY - DAY Sandra Stockton, stands by the black limo; she slowly turns and looks back at the grave of her granddaughter. She remembers... FLASHBACK MONTAGE – 198x 1. Teenager, AYESHA STOCKTON, washes dishes, cleans, and waits on tables part time at local diner. 2. Ayesha shares her sixteenth birthday with Grandma Sandra Stockton. 3. Ayesha buys a nice used car from a ‘reputable’ dealer the slick dealer from the television commercials. 4. Ayesha pulls out of the parking lot of the car dealer (Brogini’s) while the smiling shyster dealer waves goodbye. END MONTAGE. AT THE CEMETERY as Sandra Stockton stares at the grave of granddaughter, Ayesha. INSERT – Gravestone, it reads: AYESHA STOCKTON Sandra sighs, shakes her head. The memories keep coming... FLASHBACK MONTAGE – 197x 1. Young Sonny Stockton in a cluttered backyard, working on his old Harley Panhead, his young wife, Sandy, watching while holding their infant daughter, Ayesha.
2. Sonny tries starting the bike; it won’t start. 3. Sonny drops Sandy off at school (junior college); she climbs out of an old beat up pickup; they wave, then Sonny pulls away. 4. Sonny working at some plant or factory, his boss bitching him out. 5. Sonny and Sandy pull up to a street corner where an anti-Vietnam war protest is happening. 6. Sonny and Sandy protesting the Vietnam War with a group of protestors; a vet comes by and the protestors belittle him; disgusted, Sonny throws down his sign and walks away; Sandy follows. 7. Sonny and Sandy pull away from home on their old Panhead. They fade into the distance like a mirage. 8. Police car at the Stockton residence. Middle aged Sandra Stockton, holding granddaughter Ayesha, talks to two COPS, one of them a young CHARLIE THE COP, in the front yard about her son and daughter-in-law missing. YOUNG CHARLIE THE COP We’ll do what we can, Mrs Stockton. The cops start back to their patrol car. 2ND COP (mutters) Runaways, I’ll bet. Charlie nods.
9. CLOSE ON – infant Ayesha. DISSOLVE TO: 10. CLOSE ON – 16 year old Ayesha. DISSOLVE TO: 11. CLOSE ON – Ayesha’s gravestone. END MONTAGE. AT THE CEMETERY as Sandra Stockton climbs into the black limo and the limo pulls away. EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD - DAY FLASHBACK 1970s as Sonny and Sandy ride the old Harley. A storm rolling in, heavy, thunder, lightning. Looks bad. The rain begins to fall... ELSEWHERE ON TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD a YOUNG MAN in a runaway station wagon. Failed brakes; car top heavy loaded down with camping equipment both inside the car and strapped on the roof. Frantic, he stomps on the brakes as the car squeals around curves in the road. ELSEWHERE ON TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD as Sonny and Sandy ride their Harley. ELSEWHERE ON TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD as the station wagon squeals around curves in the road.
YOUNG MAN (mutters angrily) Goddammit. ELSEWHERE ON TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD as Sonny and Sandy ride their Harley. The bikers and the station wagon come head to head on a curve. Sonny cuts the bike off the curve through a wooden guard rail and over the edge. The Young Man cuts the station wagon in the opposite direction, straight into a stone wall. The wagon bounces back across the road, and over the edge just down the road from where the bike had gone through the guard rail. EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD – DAY AT THE 1970S ACCIDENT SCENE the boulevard is blocked off. Rescue vehicles include wrecker, ambulance, and two patrol cars. The wrecker pulls the wagon back on the road as a covered body on a gurney is loaded into the ambulance. Three COPS are on the scene, a young CHARLIE THE COP, and two others. COP 2 stands at the edge of the road, looking down over the embankment. Charlie and COP 3 wander about, take stock of everything. They near the ambulance. The AMBULANCE DRIVER reads Charlie’s silent question. AMBULANCE DRIVER He went through the windshield. Didn’t stand a chance. Charlie nods.
COP 2 (OC) Hey Charlie, come here! Cop Charlie and Cop 3 join Cop 2 at the edge of the road, a steep incline leading to a meander creek below. COP 2 Take a look at this. Looks fresh. They look. A single skid mark. Dark and recent. CHARLIE THE COP (mutters) Hmph, a motorcycle, I’d say. COP 3 Yeah. They stare at the meandering creek below. COP 3 Don’t see anything down there. CHARLIE THE COP Better get somebody down there and have a look anyway. COP 2 Already did, Charlie. There ain’t nobody down there. CLOSE ON Charlie the Cop DISSOLVE TO: EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD – DAY PRESENT DAY CLOSE ON middle aged Charlie the Cop at the police tape along the road with Fellow Cop and Old Man Spencer. He stares at the ground where the bones are found.
FELLOW COP You okay boss? Charlie Cop nods. CHARLIE THE COP Yeah, yeah. Just brings back ghosts from a long long time ago. ELSEWHERE ON TOPANGA BOULEVARD as the ghost bike and riders roar down the highway, disappearing into the shimmer mirage of summer heat. END OF ACT TWO FADE TO BLACK
ACT THREE FADE IN EXT. BROGINI’S USED CAR DEALERSHIP – DAY IN THE CAR LOT The CAR LOT SALESMAN stands in front of a nice white used car, watching a drop dead gorgeous young woman in biker black leather approach. Her fingertips dance on the hood of each car she passes as she approaches the Car Lot Salesman. She smiles. CAR LOT SALESMAN Can I help you with something, young lady? He smiles a sneering suggestive smile. Sandy winks. SANDY (seductive) Perhaps. She stops inches from him; fingertips dance on the hood of the white car. He smiles. Sandy suddenly pushes him back onto the car hood and begins to crawl up his body like a slithering snake. She rises over him, cackling madly, her face white and decaying, dark circles around her eyes. SANDY (cackling) Time to die, fucker. The Car Lot Salesman gasps as a shadow suddenly crosses over him. He turns his head to look, sees a young man with dead white decaying face. Sonny grins as he holds up the shotgun and winks.
IN THE SHOWROOM as the sleazy SHOWROOM SALESMAN tries to con a family into a sale. There’s a sudden gunshot. All eyes turn toward the bay windows looking out on the lot. They see the Car Lot Salesman sprawled over the hood of a car and nothing else. IN THE CAR LOT The dead Car Lot Salesman sprawled on the car, red blood runs down the white hood, as Sonny and Sandy walk toward the parked ghost bike. SANDY (cackling) Red and white go good together. They climb onto the bike and kick the engine over. ELSEWHERE IN THE CAR LOT As the sleazy Showroom Salesman runs into the lot, the family hovering at the door. There’s no bike, no ghosts, only quiet. TIME FADE – Patrol car and ambulance in dealership parking lot, lights flashing. The Car Lot Salesman’s body is being loaded into the ambulance. The Showroom Salesman and Family are giving statements to police, including Charlie the Cop. SHOWROOM SALESMAN He must’ve killed himself. There was no one else in there. CHARLIE THE COP You sure about that... The Showroom Salesman nods. SHOWROOM SALESMAN Yeah.
CHARLIE THE COP Anything else? Everyone shakes their heads. CLOSE ON the haggard looking Showroom Salesman. SHOWROOM SALESMAN I think I need a drink. INT. BAR – NIGHT The place is dim, candlelit. A haggard looking Showroom Salesman sits at the bar, a drink in hand. A young gorgeous female biker in long leather coat and long black hair suddenly slips onto the barstool next to him. She glances at him, smiles. He smiles. SHOWROOM SALESMAN Hello. SANDY Hi. His smile widens. SHOWROOM SALESMAN What brings a babe like you into this dive? She pauses, chuckles softly. SANDY You. The Showroom Salesman chuckles, nods. SHOWROOM SALESMAN Yeah, right...
Sandy laughs. SANDY (interrupts) Really. Hey, I’m alone, you’re alone. Her smile widens. He takes her in head to toe, and then turns back to his drink. SHOWROOM SALESMAN (nods) Somehow I have a hard time believing that. SANDY My husband’s dead. Killed in a bike accident. SHOWROOM SALESMAN You still ride? SANDY Sure! She saddles close to the Showroom Salesman and licks the side of his face. SANDY Shall we go, find a place a little more private? She grins, seductive. He smiles, and the leave the bar. EXT. BAR PARKING LOT, ADJACENT ALLEY - NIGHT The Showroom Salesman and Sandy hurry across the parking lot and into an adjacent alley. The Alley is steamy, hot. Dim street lights glow behind the rising steam, a strange uncanny steam.
Sandy pushes the Showroom Salesman against a brick wall, engages in a long passionate lip lock. There’s a sudden noise, a Harley engine guns. The Showroom Salesman breaks the kiss, looks. Sees a man nearby seated on a Harley in the alley, silhouetted in a dim steamy street light. SHOWROOM SALESMAN I thought you said your husband was dead? He looks at Sandy. Her face is white, drained of blood. Black circles around her eyes. She roars in sudden maniacal laughter. SANDY He is! So am I! And so are you. It’s dying time! She shoves her 45 into his crotch and fires. END OF ACT THREE FADE TO BLACK
ACT FOUR FADE IN INT. CAR GARAGE - DAY Cluttered and greasy car garage where hot cars are readied to be sold. Three shady mechanics (CHRIS, MATTY, and MITCH) run the garage for Brogini’s dealership. AT BACK OF GARAGE as Mitch opens an old fridge. CHRIS (OC) (shouts) Hey Mitch, git me a can. Mitch looks up. ELSEWHERE IN GARAGE Chris is sprawled out on a tattered sofa chair, his eyes glued to the latest Penthouse Magazine. MITCH Haul ass n git it yourself. CHRIS (mumbled) Hey, man, I’m busy here look’n at this Miss America spread; she’s one hot bitch, man! ELSEWHERE IN GARAGE as Matty works on worn wires under the hood of a car, spraying the wires black with spray paint to cover the damage. Atop the air cleaner a portable radio is tuned to the Detroit Tigers championship series.
Matty sticks his head out from under the hood. MATTY A bit up market from your usual comic. Matty stretches, wipes his hands on a greasy rag, and wanders toward Chris. MATTY Hey Chris, didja see that that young gal smashed up the old ‘65 Ford you pushed outta here? CHRIS (chuckles) Hmmm...yeah...heard it on the radio last week. Made a few bucks on that ole clunker. MATTY That bent chassis had so much filler on it that it looked straight as a die to the naked eye. Mitch joins them. MITCH Yeah, that was a real screw job. Chris chuckles. CHRIS The little lady just walked in off the street and bought. No questions asked. MATTY Like the boss says, a sucker born every minute. MITCH (soft) She’s dead.
There’s silence. Matty and Chris glance at Mitch, then: MATTY (glances at his watch) Well, damn near quittin’ time. Best lock up. Matty walks to the open bay door, takes a last look out in the alley and empty parking lot. He pulls on the draw rope. The bay door squeaks down on its rollers. Matty slips the bolt in place, padlocks it, and turns away. A crashing rattling noise stops him dead. He turns, finds the bay door wide open, the padlock stripped and on the floor. Outside in the alley an old Panhead Harley chopper sits idling. A white faced dead biker woman in long black coat sits cross-legged on the bike, looking into the garage. Between the door and bike stands a tall white faced dead man in long black coat, silhouetted against an alley street light. Sandy slithers off the bike and approaches the open door. She stops next to Sonny. Like an old west movie, Sonny flips his coat tails back, pulls two sawed off shotguns from leg holsters, and holds them up. MATTY (whisper) What the fu...? Sonny tosses a shotgun to Sandy. She catches the gun without looking, her eyes locked on Matty. Her grin begins to spread. SONNY (sneering) Dying time, boys.
One step into the garage and he opens fire. Matty screams... MATTY Shit...man! ...and turns and runs. Biker boot heels click on the garage floor. Streams of buckshot and flame tear through the air, shattering and burning everything they hit. Cars, work bench, and walls are peppered with buckshot. Light fixtures blow out in sprays of sparks. The fridge door is peppered. Beer foam leaks out all over the floor. Gas tanks explode, catching the garage on fire. Matty goes down; pellets tear into his legs and hips in a spray of blood. Mitch runs, is shot in the chest, and collides with Chris who jumps from the tattered chair. Both go down in a heap on the floor. The fires rage around them. The shooting stops. Sandy marches across the garage to Matty lying on the floor. She stares down at him, grinning. MATTY (terrified) No! NO! He turns over, tries to crawl away. Sandy lowers the shotgun, reaches into her coat, pulls out the 45, and cocks the trigger. SANDY (raspy voice) Dying time, bitch! She pumps six slugs into Matty, and then joins Sonny standing over the whimpering Mitch and Chris.
SONNY Dying time. They pour supernatural volley after supernatural volley of buckshot and flame into the two remaining mechanics until little is left of them but shredded clothing and flesh. The shooting stops, the shotguns lowered. Sonny looks at Sandy. SONNY (soft) One more. She nods. SANDY Brogini. They turn and... ...a violent explosion rips through the garage and blows the roof off. The place is engulfed in flames. EXT. CAR GARAGE - DAY IN THE ALLEY as Sonny and Sandy come striding through the wall of billowing flames, unscathed and untouched. They climb on the ghost Harley and roar down the alley just as two police cars and a fire truck, lights and sirens flashing and blaring, pull into the garage lot. Sonny waves to the arriving police and firemen as he pulls out on the main road and disappears down the street.
EXT. BROGINI’S USED CAR DEALERSHIP – DAY The ghost bikers pull into the car lot. They dismount, glance at the used car sign, and then start for the entrance, boot heels clicking on the pavement. INT. BROGINI’S USED CAR DEALERSHIP - DAY IN THE SHOW ROOM as the bikers cross the showroom floor, boot heels clicking on the tile, a dealer giving a sales pitch to customers. Strangely no one seems to notice the bikers. They approach the BROGINI’S office. Sonny reaches for the door, swings it wide... IN BROGINI’S OFFICE as Sonny steps into room, Sandy right behind him, her 45 drawn and raised. Brogini sits behind his desk. Short, pudgy, in flashy white suit and cowboy hat, fat stogie clinched between yellowed teeth, he’s about ready to launch into his sales pitch. BROGINI Howdy Folks, how may I help you today! The door closes. Brogini looks up. BROGINI Couple ‘o bikers, eh? Lookin to move up in the world? (chuckles) Well, I got a deal for you and the sweet little lady... Brogini begins to rise from his chair. Sandy quickly steps around Sonny. She cocks her 45, holds it up. Brogini falls silent, eyes wide, and slips back into his chair.
Sandy hurries around the side of the desk, kicks the chair sideways, and straddles Brogini’s lap. She slaps his hat off his head, slaps the stogie out of his mouth, grabs a handful of dwindling hair, and shoves the 45 into an ear. Brogini’s fearful, and begins to stammer incoherently. SANDY (growls) You kill people with your cars. She drags the barrel of her pistol from his ear, down one side of his face, under his chin, and up the other side. Then taps his lips with the barrel of the 45. Brogini’s lips flap frantically. He sweats and tears stream down his fat wobbling cheeks. SANDY (angrily, tapping his lips) Years ago you sold a car to a hunter. That hunter and two bikers died because of you. SONNY (leaning over desk) How many more have died since?! SANDY Most recently a sixteen year old girl. Ayesha Stockton. Sandy’s snickering grin slowly widens as Brogini stammers. Suddenly, she shoves the barrel of the 45 between his teeth. SANDY It’s dying time. She pulls the trigger, blows the back of his head off. Teeth, bone, blood, brain, and gore splatter all over the wall behind him.
SANDY (soft) Well, that’s that. Now what do we do? A slow grin crawls across Sonny’s face. Sandy smiles. SONNY Seems to me we were heading for a picnic a long time ago. Sandy chuckles and nods. SANDY Yeah, we were, up in Devil Canyon. SONNY Shall we go? SANDY Lets. SONNY We gotta make a stop on the way. Sandy nods, knowingly. EXT. CEMETERY - DAY An OLD LADY leans on a cane, stands at the grave of her husband. She looks up, sees two leather clad bikers, male and female, at a nearby grave. AT AYESHA’S GRAVE as Sandy kneels to place a single red rose at the headstone. Sonny looks at the Old Lady and smiles. The Old Lady smiles back. AT OLD MAN’S GRAVE as the Old Lady turns, slowly walks away, cane tapping on the sidewalk pavement.
She opens the squeaking iron cemetery gate, turns to close it, and notices the two bikers are gone. She shakes her head, then closes the gate. She smiles then chuckles. In the distance is the sound of a Harley winding out. END OF ACT FOUR FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN SERIES OF SHOTS Sonny and Sandy on the black Harley Chopper riding through the city. Weaving in and out of traffic... EXT. TOPANGA CANYON BOULEVARD - DAY AT ACCIDENT SITE Flashing lights. Police cruiser, ambulance, and wrecker. A Cop direct traffic. Charlie the Cop leads the recovery. Two shrouded bodies on gurneys are loaded into the ambulance. An old wrecked, twisted, and rusted Harley chopper is chained to the flatbed wrecker. Faded paint job on damaged gas tank reads: Bone Crusher. Bodies loaded, EMT DRIVER closes door. Charlie the Cop joins him. ELSEWHERE ON ROAD as Sonny and Sandy come roaring around the curve on their ghost Harley. They roar past the ambulance. HOLD ON AMBULANCE as a puzzled Charlie the Cop shivers. EMT DRIVER You okay, Charlie? Charlie nods. CHARLIE Yeah, just a cold chill.
ELSEWHERE on down the road as the ghost Harley and riders fade into a shimmering mirage. The sound of the roaring Harley fades in the distance. THE END FADE TO BLACK