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EARLY AFTERNOON

(CUT TO)

POINT OF VIEW SHOT

A trickle of light blurrily comes through blackness. A field of view, blurred, slowly comes into focus. A grassy field, littered with metallic wreckage, plane seats, multitudes of scattered personal effects, and dead bodies, sprawled in all manner of bizarre attitudes, in various states of dislocation, injury, and combustion. Much debris still burns, as does the sole recognizable chunk of plane fuselage, off to the left. All seen from upside-down point of view.

PAN BACK slowly to enlarge the field of view and take in more of the panorama of carnage and debris, with an individual row of three seats, containing Bob and Julia, eventually becoming visible in foreground (still upside-down), with their seat propped-up partially by debris, their heads thrown back over seat tops (though appearing to be hanging down in this upside-down position).

(CUT TO)

Bob, finding himself on his back, still strapped into his seat, with Julia still strapped in beside him, the whole bank of seats still being intact. The seat has been flung far away from what’s left of the plane fuselage. Bob looks down at Julia’s hand still clasped in his. He looks at her, lying unconscious, and checks her pulse at her throat.

BOB
Strong pulse! Good! Hang on, honey!

He unstraps himself, and then her. He uses her seat to turn her sideways, enough to check her for injuries while carefully supporting her head with one hand. None apparent. Her breathing is good, too. Her eyes flutter open slowly.

BOB
Julia! We made it! We’re alive!

JULIA
Bob! Bob, where are you, Bob? I can’t see you!

Leaning over her, still clasping her hand, Bob speaks again.


(CONTINUED)
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
BOB
Julia, I’m right here! I’m right in front of you. Can’t you see me?

He notices, for the first time, she is not totally injury-free. A small trickle of blood comes from beside her left eye, and on the opposite side, a fine, needle-thin piece of metal projects from the same area near her right eye.

JULIA
Bob, I can’t see. I’m blind, Bob! Oh, Bob, where are you? Don’t leave me, Bob!

BOB
I’m right here, Julia. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here. I won’t leave you. We’re safe. We made it. Help will be here shortly, I know it will. (pauses, then tells her some encouraging lies) The captain was transmitting a distress message and our coordinates before the crash. They’ll be here to help us before long. All we have to do is wait. We’re out of danger now. Stay still so you don’t hurt yourself further. Okay?

She is weeping now, with shock setting in. Her fear seems abated, however.

JULIA
All right, Bob.

BOB
I think there’s a reason for all this, Julia. When we woke up this morning, little things were different. I think it’s a different world...one we’re supposed to change...and not just one lawn at a time.

They both laugh at this.

BOB
I think this world has to be brought to an end, somehow...it’s just not...right.

JULIA
Even if that means all the people have to die, Bob? (as stunned as she is, none of this seems strange to her right now)

BOB
Maybe that’s not necessary...

Bob looks around. Debris burns. Dazed, bleeding, disheveled people moan and pull themselves away from flames, stagger to their feet in some cases, looking around for loved ones.

From behind a snapped-off tree, Bob sees the tall, muscular figure of the governor of California come staggering along. The governor recognizes him after a moment, and walks over to Bob unsteadily. The governor’s face is etched with pain, though he stoically holds it at bay.

GOVERNOR
Bob, isn’t it?

BOB
Yes...governor. I’m glad you made it. We’re...(mindful that Julia is listening)...we’ve been roughed up pretty good here, I’d say...

(CONTINUED)
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
GOVERNOR
What the hell happened? Does anybody know?

BOB
I know what happened, but if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. You’d think I must have gotten some kind of head injury.

GOVERNOR
That’s as may be, Bob. It’s not important now. Listen, I’ve got injuries myself. I don’t
think I’m going to make it till help arrives. I’ve got internal injuries. (he sinks to his knees) I need somebody...I guess it’s you...to get this out to the world, somehow.(hands over the thick sheaf of papers, which he seems to have held onto throughout the crash and the aftermath) My...security guard didn’t make it. Cut in...half. I’d have had him do it. I’m depending on you, Bob. Don’t let this...information...be lost to the world. It’s vital. The future of our country...of both countries...may go badly if this doesn’t...go public.

Still dazed, Bob doesn’t know what to say. Finally, some words sort themselves out and pop out of his mouth.

BOB
I’ll do it governor. I will. But tell me one thing. What country IS this? What’s it called?

GOVERNOR: (looking at him quizically)
You did get a hit on the head, Bob. (laughing slightly, though it pains him) The Confederate States of America, Bob. All fifteen states of it. And there’s our neighbor, the United States, with its twenty states. And the Mormon Kingdom. The Indian Nation. Our northern neighbors--the Canadians and the Russians.

BOB
And what, pray tell, Governor, is Still Valley? I know it’s a presidential retreat, but what...?

GOVERNOR (completing the thought for Bob)
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