Author's Note: This chapter was revised. I hope you guys like it! The editing was done to Piano Man by Billy Joel. It's a great song.
Act One, Scene One
Interior-Morning-Abandoned House
(The camera fades in to a cramped, hot, and humid upstairs room in an abandoned home. Mosquitoes buzz around in the mixed company of flies, both occasionally landing on the flesh of the two men that are within the room. A wounded man—Irwin Wade—lies on a low cot beneath the only window in the room, a small square covered by dusty, old curtains in poor shape. There is not very much light in the room and it is semi-dark. The atmosphere is suffocating and miserable, very tense.
Wade appears weak and pale beneath a twisted mess of olive drab wool sheets damp with perspiration. In his right hand he clutches the edges of the sheets, his face drawn and tired as if fighting an invisible enemy. He is bandaged in ecru gauze above the navel—it's been reused, and it is evident. Distant gunfire can be heard as a small feud is going on about two miles away from the entirely abandoned sector that he and his companion are staying in. It's gotten slightly louder than it was three hours ago, but Irwin doesn't seem to have taken notice in his pain.
A chair is set up in the right corner of the wall opposite Wade. Richard Reiben sits smoking a white cigarette, the smoke filling the room with the smell of tobacco as the window and door are both closed. He watches Irwin with a mixed expression, his brows lowered. The rumble of gunfire in the distance is getting louder again as one of the sides falls back. With a weary look, Wade turns his head slightly without moving the rest of his body to look at Reiben with a concerned gaze. It clearly takes a lot of effort. )
Reiben: (Taking his cigarette out of his mouth before he speaks up. He has a nasal Brooklyn accent.) It's far away, Wade. (Wade nods and turns his head back towards the window. Reiben puts his cigarette back in his mouth, moodily smoking and staring at the broken, dusty grandfather clock near the door. It's been still since they got there. The room shakes every so often as mortar is fired in the distance, getting closer. Being shaken has interfered with the pendulum within and stopped the clock. The old hands read 3:15. For a moment the camera focuses on them.)
(Reiben raps his fingers against the arm of the chair in unexpressed anxiety and his brows lower. They hear another boom, and this time it's louder than the last few. His lip curls in a cornered snarl and shows yellowing teeth, he's been a smoker for a while. They both duck down sharply and straighten up when they realize that it hasn't reached them. Wade groans, pushing himself up with his arms.)
Wade: (Calm, and knowingly, even though he's in pain.) It sounds like it's getting closer, Reiben. (Richard takes his cigarette out of his mouth, holding it to the side between two fingers. A trial of smoke rises from it. The camera shows both of the men in a moderately panned view.)
Reiben: (Without aggression. He's absorbed in his own thoughts.) No shit... (Another, even louder crack is heard. This time the room noticeably shakes for a brief time, a heavy jolt. Little flakes of the material making up the ceiling come down, drifting like grim flakes of snow.)
Wade: I have the feeling that they're going to bring the fighting here. Help me sit up, please--and can you move the curtains so I can see what's going on?(Reiben helps Wade sit up in the bed, being careful to avoid touching the tender areas around his wounds. Wade closes his eyes for a moment, his chest rising with a deep breath. With a swift jerk Reiben moves the curtains and a cloud of dust rises from their general area. They've clearly been undisturbed for months or years.)
(There's nothing to tie them with so he ties each side in a crude knot before walking a few strides away, pacing with his arms folded tightly across his chest. His knuckles are white, because he's digging his nails into his arms. His muscles have tightened, not just in his arms but in his entire body. His shoulders are even raised the slightest bit, tense. The camera shows the watches from where he now sits up, but Reiben isn't still. A few minutes later Wade abruptly turns to his comrade with a worried look, his brows lowering. Twisting so suddenly makes him take a sharp, hissing breath of pain.)
Wade: Troops--they're on the ridge!
Reiben: Hell, are they our guys or theirs?
Wade: I can't see that from here... Don't you have some field glasses..? (Reiben clenches his jaw tightly and strides forcefully to the window.)
Reiben: Ours. They're retreating, and fast. (Reiben suddenly moves forward, watching. He hasn't bothered to get the field glasses, too consumed in watching the battle. Oh, why was it he that had to be trapped here, with Wade! Every survival instinct, every ounce of street sense screams at him to save himself. He doesn't stay with people, operates on his own agenda. But, due to the ranger creed, he can't leave a wounded comrade behind—and thus, he can't leave Wade.)
Reiben: Dammit---dammit---they're in the town--! (Wade moves forward to the best of his ability, pressing his nails into the sheets and tightening his grip on them. Reiben growls repeated profanities. Voices can be heard outside. They are mainly incoherent, and now yelling and gunfire is directly audible. Crashes are heard as the windows in the other houses are broken in and the doors are kicked down to be used as shields.)
(Strangely, Wade, wounded and bedridden, seems less worried than Reiben. There's a look of somber readiness on the short medic's face, revealing for once the endurance that lies beneath his mild-mannered nature. Reiben, consumed with irritation at his own fate, does not see this.)
Voice 1: Fall back! Fall back!
Voice 2: He's been wounded! (A series of cries, groans, and screams are heard downstairs, followed by crashes as something—or somebody—hits the floor. A high, staccato voice is heard giving orders, and a few others seem to have more authority than the rest.)
Wade: What's going on? Did they...storm the house?
Reiben: They're bringing wounded here---
Wade: Let me help them, Reiben--I can walk. There wasn't any major damage to my spine. They need every capable hand that they can get. (Loud shouts are heard and footsteps rapidly pound up the stairs, thundering. Reiben rapidly moves for the door, reaching for the knob, but it flies forward before he can reach it.)
Man: You have to get the hell out of here! They're going to blow the entire town to hell. (Reiben turns his head sharply to face the intruder. He runs back out of the room, presumably to run to the next residence. A regular Paul Revere.)
Reiben: It looks like you may need to, Wade---get up. (Reiben strides towards Wade and puts a hand under his arm, helping him get up. Reiben begins to gather both of their belongings and takes his gun from where it rests against the wall. Side by side, they start to head down the stairs, Wade with his medic bag slung over his shoulder. He starts towards a few of the wounded, squatting with effort and rummaging through it. Richard sees him and casts him a furious expression.) What the fuck do you think you're doing? We have to leave, now! There isn't time for a damn detour like that!
Wade: Reiben, they need my help. The doctors are going need every hand that's available-- I would know. (Reiben cuts him off, tossing up his hands in an expression of frustration.)
Reiben: So that one more person can be blown to fucking smithereens! I'm not staying, and neither are you! (He grabs Wade's arm tightly in one hand and jerks him up easily. Wade, already possessing a small build, has lost weight since he was first confined to bed due to his wounds. He yelps in surprise and pain, watching Reiben with a stunned expression.)
Wade: (Abruptly, his strong will is evident behind his eyes. Although placid and good natured, the main reason why he's gotten so far is because of his endurance, his bravery, tolerance of pain—all things that are normally hidden from view, unless one looks. It happens that Reiben never has, and Wade's expression passes straight by him.) Reiben! Don't you ever think of anybody other than yourself? These men are dying.
Reiben: 'These men' can wait, God dammit! We're leaving. What do you want me to tell Miller if they blow the shit out of you? Upham, Mellish? Jackson? (Reiben throws both hands into the air again. Wade hesitates, watching him with a grim look. He starts towards the private, his gait hitching as his back protests. It's obvious that he isn't ready for this, but the circumstances have forced him to be ready regardless.)
Wade: ...Alright. (As they make their way towards the door, Wade looks over his shoulder one last time before he follows Reiben out of the door and into the chaos and pandemonium around them.)
(Reiben breaks into a trot and Wade does his best to keep up. The dust that had laid still over the town's stony ground is now forming huge clouds in the air, and they're hardly able to see anything in front of them. People scream and shout orders and responses. Gunfire is going off everywhere.)
(A dog runs past them, barking loudly. A bullet whizzes past the side of Reiben's head and he ducks, flattening himself against an old brick wall. Wade follows suit, panting quietly. He lifts his head, looking up and closing his eyes for a long moment.)
(They wind through the rest of the town, taking the route around it. They enter a meadowlike area with sparse trees...)
End scene one, fade to black.
