冰血暴  绑架  英文剧本  奥斯卡最佳原创剧本奖  美国

　　
　　GARY
　　Yah， got a front movin’’ in.
　　
　　MAN
　　Ya got that right.
　　
　　CLOSE ON CARL SHOWALTER
　　
　　In his car， now parked， one hand holding the rag pressed to
　　his mangled jaw. He is staring down at something in the
　　front seat next to him.
　　
　　His other hand holds open the briefcase. It has money
　　inside - a lot of money.
　　
　　Carl unfreezes， takes out one of the bank-wrapped wads and
　　looks at it.
　　
　　CARL
　　…… Mmmnphh.
　　
　　He paws through the money in the briefcase to get a feeling
　　for the amount.
　　
　　CARL
　　…… Jeshush Shrist…… Jeshush
　　fuchem Shrist!
　　
　　Excited， he counts out a bundle of bills and tosses it onto
　　the back seat.
　　
　　He starts to take the rag away from his chin but the layer
　　pressed against his face sticks， its loose weave bound to
　　his skin by clotted blood.
　　
　　He pulls very gently and winces as blood starts to flow
　　again.
　　
　　He carefully tears the rag in half so that only a bit of it
　　remains adhering to his jaw.
　　
　　EXT. CAR
　　
　　It is pulled over to the side of an untraveled road. THe
　　door opens and Carl emerges with the briefcase.
　　
　　He slogs through the snow， down a gulley and up the
　　embankment to a barbed-wire fence. He kneels at one of the
　　fence posts and frantically digs into the snow with his bare
　　hands， throws in the briefcase and covers it back up.
　　
　　He stands and tries to beat the circulation back into his
　　red， frozen hands.
　　
　　He looks to the right.
　　
　　A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
　　against unblemished white.
　　
　　He looks to the left.
　　
　　A regular line of identical fence posts stretches away
　　against unblemished white.
　　
　　He looks at the fence post in front of him.
　　
　　CARL
　　Mmmphh……
　　
　　He looks about the snowy vastness for a marker. Finding
　　none， he kicks the fence post a couple of times， failing to
　　scar or tilt it， then hurriedly plants a couple of sicks up
　　against the post.
　　
　　He bends down， scoops up a handful of snow， presses it
　　against his wounded jaw， and lopes back to the idling car.
　　
　　HOTEL ROOM
　　
　　Marge has a packed overnight back sitting on the unmade bed.
　　She is ready to leave， already wearing her parka， but is on
　　the phone.
　　
　　MARGE
　　No， I’’m leavin’’ this mornin’’， back
　　up to Brainerd.
　　
　　VOICE
　　Well， I’’m sorry I won’’t see ya.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Mm. But ya think he’’s all right？
　　I saw him last night and he’’s -
　　
　　VOICE
　　What’’d he say？
　　
　　MARGE
　　Well， it was nothin’’ specific
　　he said， it just seemd like it
　　all hit him really hard， his
　　wife dyin’’ -
　　
　　VOICE
　　His wife？
　　
　　MARGE
　　Linda.
　　
　　VOICE
　　No.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Linda Cooksey？
　　
　　VOICE
　　No. No. No. They weren’’t -
　　he， uh， he was bothering Linda
　　for about， oh， for a good year.
　　Really pestering her， wouldn’’t
　　leave her alone.
　　
　　MARGE
　　So …… they didn’’t……
　　
　　VOICE
　　No. No. They never married.
　　Mike’’s had psychiatric problems.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Oh. Oh， my.
　　
　　VOICE
　　Yah， he - he’’s been struggling.
　　He’’s living with his parents now.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Oh. Geez.
　　
　　VOICE
　　Yah， Linda’’s fine. You should
　　call her.
　　
　　MARGE
　　Geez. Well - geez. That’’s a
　　suprise.
　　
　　MARGE’’S CAR