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Heaven’s Final Approach
By
Larry S Mccrea
Larry S Mccrea
PO Box 193
Pineville
South Carolina 29468
Ph. (843) 351-4930
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FADE IN:
ext western sinai desert – dusk
Super: Egypt, 1942
A wave of darkness rolls over the sunny desert floor. In the west an unusual storm brews, ominously hovering above the hot desert. Cyclones descend from a supernatural source; converge on a single point, and then race toward the mountains.
ext. shamala village, public square – night
Panicky, men, women, children, run in the streets from fear of attack.
1st villager
The Japanese – why are they attacking us?
2nd villager
They’re not after us; they’re after the treasure in the temple.
int shamala temple – night
FATHER BENETA, 30’s, rushes down to the treasure room to secure the two steel gates. At the bottom step he clumsily stumbles and gashes his forehead. Dizzily, he attempts to stand. Facing the stonewall, he reaches to the floor for the keys-notices a mouse in the corner, spinning erratically. The mouse watches each DROP of blood SPLAT on the floor. Father Beneta senses a presence behind him but fear won’t allow him to turn. Hugging the stone wall, sweat and blood dripping down the front of his robe, he inserts the key – the bolt SLAM LOCKS shut.
ext. gen. mohan’s position, protecting monastery – night
GENERAL MOHAN, 50’s, a self-centered, gallant, mercenary, checks windage and elevation for a mortar attack. He raises his hand.
general mohan
Fire!
Volley of mortar fire lights up the night sky.
int shamala tample – night
Hastily, Father Beneta makes his way back up to the main hall, and enters.
ext japanese troop position near village – night
Japanese Captain and his first and second Sergeants lead troops into the village.
Mortar fire explodes all around them, as they fight their way through to a narrow, stone bridge.
int. temple main hall – night
Father Beneta scurries into the hall where mass confusion reigns, as Monks in long, black, formal robes, each wearing the cross of Mary, race to the center of the great hall.
Flickering light from wrought steel wall lanterns dances from one Holy Cross to the next.
A line is formed.
Father Beneta wipes the dripping blood from his forehead.
FATHER MANGIONE, 60, master of the temple, recognizes his friend’s state but he is momentarily not in tune with matters of the flesh. His eyes are Holy-like.
father beneta
(whispers)
Master – the soldiers at our gate.
father mangione
Do not be afraid of our enemies. For them and unfortunately our brave protectors, the darkness will bring tragedy. For God, it is a precise moment in time.
ext. gen. mohan’s position, protecting monastery – night
Battle is abruptly interrupted...as the silhouette of an entity they cannot clearly see unleashes its mighty power.
General Mohan and his second-in-command, cautiously make their way into the open.
Thunder and red lightning punch the sky with a mighty roar as chunks of rock and heavy boulders rain down from the summit of Mount Sinai.
Blood and flesh shower the men below.
Another bolt of lightning rockets out of the menacing black cloud.
Then, the screen fades to black as we continue to hear blood-curdling screams.
All is silence.
int. (Mandalay, india) old man’s home – day
Super: 40 years later
Father Beneta, an old man now, sits alone at his dinner table finishing a sparse meal of cheap Bordeaux wine, bread, and goat cheese.
His home: a meager shanty laced with spider webs and memories. A tin snuffbox, pyramid-capped and trimmed with thin strands of gold rope, nestles near a memorable letter.
dissolve through to:
BEGIN FLASHBACK
int cairo, egypt – night
WOMAN ON HER DEATHBED
...he was my cavalier, my Samurai, my lover and best friend. Please Father! Take it! Someday you will know what to do with it.
Tears stream down Father Beneta’s grieving face.
The woman gasps one last time – the letter falls to the floor.
END FLASHBACK
BACK TO SCENE
In remembrance, the old man weeps, and then begins to sing “March of the Gregorian,” high pitched, but note perfect.
The phone rings.
caller
(confident)
I think we may be able to help each other.
the old man
(elated)
Who are you?
caller
I have a list of all the monks of Shamala.
the old man
But how? I tried for years and nothing.
caller
It’s who you know that counts. You have a letter given to you many years ago by a woman on her deathbed?
the old man
How could you know this?
Caller
Doesn’t matter! Are you interested or not? Maybe we could meet?
the old man
Yes...I’m on the outskirts of town.
caller
Starvo Ave...Do you know it?
the old man
The Café’. Yes,
caller
Why don't you call? Make a reservation for the private room —say, two o'clock?
the old man
All right, I'll see you then.
caller
Excellent!
int starvo café’ – day
A man cloaked in a long, leather trench coat with a roaring 20’s style hat pulled down just far enough for a clear line of vision, enters the Café’. Hostess approaches. His face is not visible.
hostess
May I help you, sir?
caller
Supposed to be meeting a gentleman.
hostess
Oh yes – the private room. This way, please.
Caller enters. The Old Man rises to greet him.
the old man
I’m grateful that you have come.,but why the secrecy?
caller
(lying)
A few months ago I was here with a friend who drank himself into an obnoxious state. We were thrown out.
the old man
We could have met in another place.
caller
(takes off his coat, sits)
Not important. Did you bring the letter?
The old man reaches into the deep well of his shirt pocket.
the old man
Do you have the names and addresses?
Caller enticingly holds up a folded piece of paper, raises it to eye level. Takes a few sips of wine with his other hand.
The Old Man reaches out for the letter, Caller quickly snatches it back.
the old man
Are you playing games for a price?
The Old Man reaches for his wallet.
caller
Put your money back! Another glass of wine will loosen up my generosity.
Old Man walks to the door, opens it, signals for waitress.
Caller quickly and professionally empties contents of a capsule into the Old Man’s glass.
Old Man returns with the wine, sits, pours Caller’s glass first, then his.
Caller raises his glass for a toast. Old Man raises his.
caller
To a new, enduring friendship. Salute!
The old man
Salute!
Two glasses bang together. They drink.
caller
…about that night?
the old man
I remember that it happened quickly.
Old Man reaches up to his forehead, stroking an old, healed, gash wound with his forefinger.
the old man
They said it was — The Chariot of God.
Caller deviously grins.
The Old Man’s eyes flutter.
caller
Was there treasure?
The old man
Yes, but not...
Old Man’s head slumps to one side. He’s dead. Caller stands, forces the letter from the Old Man’s vice-like grip, sits him erect, and then slips out the emergency exit.
ext sinai desert – day
Super: U.S. Excavation camp,
...... base of Mount Sinai, Egypt.
Empty potholes, covered trenches dot sun-baked, dusty terrain.
A team of foreign laborers digs for artifacts.
Canvas-covered truck bearing a Russian star, pulls into camp. A man with a sarcastic grin exits, motions the driver to wait.
SARKOT, 50’s, Russian Archaeologist, approaches.
PROFESSOR REMI, 50’s, American Archaeologist. Chiseled features - a shovel in his hand, slinging years of built up dirt and clay into a workable sifting mound. His back is turned to Sarkot.
sarkot
I see that persistence is in your blood.
remi
(glances to loaded truck)
Your government should be very proud of your success.
sarkot
Yes, comrade...too bad for you my shipment couldn't have been going in two directions.
Remi
Unfortunately, Sarkot, we don't value the same things, you and I.
sarkot
Too bad you've got that hardheaded American attitude. Look where it's got you — I found everything I wanted — and you found - what?
He squats and picks up a handful of dirt.
Nothing but dust.
sarkot
I’ll be off now. You’re wasting your time searching for some great, spiritual revelation.
Sarkot enters truck. Two more loaded trucks pull into camp. Caravan speeds away.
EXT EXCAVATION base camp – night
Two campfires burn.
Remi caresses the outline of an object in his pocket.
MENCHA, 50’S, Remi’s right-hand man hands Remi cup of hot tea, slaps stinging sand fly from his neck, sits.
mencha
Bad enough our food’s running out-now we have to share our blood with thirsty, flying maggots.
Remi reaches into his pocket, then quietly pulls out the tip of a shiny object - a key trimmed in gold, emeralds burst with color in the firelight's flicker - the key catches Mencha’s attention.
remi
No, don’t stand! Must not draw attention.
mencha
What is it, Professor?
remi
Found it wedged between rocks a few hundred yards from here. Came from up there.
Mencha
(mesmerized, makes sign of the cross)
Could have been forged by the hand of God.
Remi
Tomorrow we will search the summit and find our destiny.
ext beach – day
Super: North end, Pawley’s Island,
South Carolina
High Tide - Warm, blustery, southeast wind slams white- caps against high dunes.
Arrogantly shabby beach homes adorn narrow shorefront.
Sea oats, Myrtle shrubs line a wide, sandy beach path that narrows and fades to a grassy parking lot.
BEAUTREU PEITRY, 26, boyish features, sets tempo for the final pretend battle and his country’s freedom. He’s wearing a plastic revolutionary cap, his father’s old sailor’s coat, tattered shorts that reveal lanky legs. His weapon: a pine limb sword, hot coal seasoned, strong and swift. He shouts commands to his pretend army of the Potomac.
beautreu
Forge ahead, Patriots, to our finest hour. Charge!
Sand kicks up, sword slashes enemy into submission, until...A young girl and her mother stop to watch the performance.
ALEXANDRA, 30, face of an angel, brick house body, CLAPS.
EVONNE, 50's, dishy, sleek - grasps daughter's arm.
evonne
He obviously has a problem. Let’s go.
alex
He’s kinda cute.
Beautreu bows, swishes hat in a circle.
Alex curtsies, takes a few steps in his direction.
Beautreu spots plump blackberries dotting path’s edge, reaches for the largest, juiciest, his eyes affectionately, glued to her reaction. He feels a stinging sensation, SCREAMS! Hundreds of red wasps zero in. Raging stingers cover his body. He falls to the sand. His head strikes a clump of oyster shells. Blood gushes, body goes limp.
Alex
Oh my God. MOTHER!
Evonne rushes to her side, sees the boy.
evonne
Let’s get out of here.
alex
I’m not the one who’s on the run. Leave, mother!
Alex darts to his side.
cut to:
int/ext peitry kitchen - day
BETH PEITRY, 48, hears, sees her son through kitchen window, SCREAMS. Frantic, she tears through the door, misses several wooden steps, hits the sand running, rushes to Beautreu’s side, gently lifts his head - warm blood oozing through her fingers.
beth
Oh dear God in Heaven. NO!
alex
(in tears)
One minute he was putting on a show for us, the next...this!
Evonne deeply inhales...frustration.
evonne
Guess we’d better get him to a hospital.
Alex
Jeep is in the parking lot.
int markham general Hospital, emergency room – day
Nurses slide Beautreu’s body onto examining table.
DOCTOR JO (40'S) strides in, focused, examines the 2-inch head gash.
Jo
(to nurse)
Lost a lot of blood. Cross and type.
first Nurse
Yes, doctor.
Nurse prepares to draw blood.
Jo
Hmmm... Wasp bites. Red ones, the worst kind.
int waiting room – day
Doctor Jo bursts through the door, sees Beth.
jo
You Mrs. Peitry?
beth
Yes. Will he be...?
jo
Trying to control the bleeding. When did this happen?
beth
(turns a worried eye)
...about an hour ago. Got here as fast as we could.
jo
Must be 60 or more stings. Is he allergic to anything?
beth
He ah...has never been to a doctor.
jo
Mrs. Peitry. I don’t have time to hash over your family’s health data. Who’s his doctor?
Beth
Dear Jesus. I knew someday it would come to this.
Evonne overhears, casts a suspicious eye on Beth.
jo
What?
Nurse races into waiting room, chart in hand. Pulls doctor off to side.
nurse
(whispers)
We have a problem. Can’t type and match his blood.
jo
Nonsense! We don’t have much time and he needs adrenaline.
nurse
Sorry Doctor, lab can’t get a fix!
Jo looks to Beth, sobbing uncontrollably.
Looks back to Nurse.
jo
Damn! What’s going on here? Administer plasma for now.
nurse
Yes, doctor.
Jo shifts his growing concern to Beth.
jo
Who are these people?
Beth
(sniveling)
They were on the beach when it happened. Found him.
Alex approaches.
alex
I’m so sorry. Feel like it was my fault. He was picking the berries for me.
beth
Really!
Evonne strolls up to Alex.
evonne
Let’s go. The doctor can handle it from here.
alex
Ok, but...
Evonne walks out. Alex walks through the door, turns.
alex
Ma’am, if there’s anything I can do?
(a beat)
I don’t even know his name.
beth
His name is BEAUTREU.
Whispers under her breath.
beth
(fixed gaze)
A child of God.
jo
Mrs. Peitry. Don't leave. I’ll have questions for you later.
int Hospital room – day
Beautreu pulls at tangled heart monitor lead.
He’s frustrated, head throbs like a toothache, chest, stomach and legs dotted with multiple wasp stings.
He catches sight of a girl as she walks by — Alex. She takes a few steps back, checks room number, walks in.
alex
Are you comfortable?
Beautreu
They treat me like a child.
alex
You have to be firm, let them know that you’re paying their salaries.
beautreu
What! I don’t pay them anything. Mother is on welfare.
alex
Hmm...... a poor boy.
beautreu
Rich in other ways.
alex
Maybe! Why aren’t you married?
Beautreu
I’m different, a loner, don’t fit in, and you?
alex
Cold blood runs through my veins. I’m a bitch like mother.
Beautreu
(laughs)
Ouch! At least you’re honest.
Alex
Not sure about you.
Beautreu
Why do you need to be...sure, I mean?
Alex
Do you believe in destiny?
Beautreu
I believe in God
alex
Mother says God is in everyone’s imagination.
Beautreu
What do you believe?
alex
We all haveto believe in something, don’t we? Take care.
Beautreu
Wait — are you coming back?
alex
Probably not, but we’ll meet again, someday.
int office of cia chief – night
Super: Washington, D.C. - Headquarters
Walls lined with photos of former Presidents. CIA emblem hangs from shiny brass moorings. Invited guests sit around a mahogany conference table waiting for the Chief.
CHIEF, 60’s, Enters wearing a three piece Italian suit, Rolex, and a grim face. He scans the table.
chief
Go ahead Hollister.
HOLLISTER, late 30’s, stylish, GQ type guy, manikin-like, wrap around, playboy, black shades. He’s intelligent, sly, powerful and self-assured, the Chief’s personal assistant. He turns to Sarkot sitting next to him
Hollister
Sarkot?
sarkot
Chief, my government is anxious to put to rest rumors of a spiritual revolution.
evonne
They are not rumors. My husband died attempting to steal the Sinai Scroll.
sarkot
My dear, beautiful, lady. Professor Remi was my partner during the expedition. I left him drooling over my success in the Northern quadrant. He found nothing.
hollister
(to Sarkot)
Hate to burst your bubble, sir. We intercepted – recorded, a transmission to the Vatican. They have the scroll — confirmed.
sarkot
Interesting. So Remi held out on me. Where is the scroll now?
hollister
Under armed guard at a military base not far from the Vatican.
sarkot
Mmmm — and the boy?
Hollister
No credible leads. They've got a tight lid on the scroll's contents. If we don't find the boy before—