Money and screams floated in the room. Erich was on the ground struggling with Ken. Debbie bit Erich' s finger with such viciousness that Erich opened his hand, the gun falling to the floor. At that moment Erich kicked Ken in the groin and sent him on his back. Before Erich could get up, Debbie was on top of him.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Good Lord, how many bullets does that gun carry? wondered Ken still grabbing his nuts. Debbie fired until the gun ran empty, then she proceeded to kick the bloody mass.

"Fucking inbred bastard!"

Ken stood and looked at her bloodied face in amazement. She finally looked at him and stopped kicking and cussing the corpse.

"Are you O.K?" asked Ken. The bruises in Debbie’ s face had started to swell.

"I' m fucking fine. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Same thing you' re doing, I suppose."

Both stood panting, the corpse still seeping blood between them. Seconds went by before anybody could say anything. Ken expected to hear sirens, and cops coming through the door yelling "Freeze!"But nothing happened. His ears continued to ring and a slight breeze fingered the curtains beside the open window where the top of the Coca-Cola building stood against an azure sky.

SNAPSHOTS OF MODERN LOVE

"An End Like the Movies"

An Original Screenplay

by

José R. Rodríguez

FADEIN:

INT.F.B.I. OFFICE, DOWNTOWN DALLAS – DAY

Ken and his lawyer sit side by side. Across the table sits an F.B.I. Man. His briefcase is open and legal papers are strung over the desk. Ken signs a paper, turns it around and slides it, with the pen, back to the F.B.I. man.

F.B.I. man (studying the paper)

Well, this does it.

Ken

Do I have to face Ortega in court, or just my deposition will be enough?

F.B.I. man

Depends. If he cuts a deal, you will never see his face again. If he decides to go to court, then you will have to testify.

Lawyer

He won' t be that stupid.

Ken

Why not?

F.B.I. man

The State of Florida is charging him with the murder of this Sonia woman. He could get the chair if convicted.

Lawyer

His lawyers will go for a deal, life in prison.

Ken

What about drug charges?

F.B.I. man

We aren' t interested at this time. If Florida can lock him up for life, or fry him, there is no need to spend taxpayers' money trying to nail him for smuggling.

Ken (sighing with a worrisome look)

I hope you' re right.

F.B.I. man (rising and extending his hand)

Gentlemen.

Ken and his lawyer rise, shake hands with the F.B.I. man.

EXT.F.B.I. BUILDING – FULL SHOT – DAY

Camera moves from the building' s top to the entrance and finds Ken and his lawyer standing on the sidewalk.

Lawyer

This is our last meeting. Once you and your dad go into the Eyewitness Protection Program, we will be cutoff for good.

Ken

Thank you for convincing them to let me keep my F.A.A. licenses.

Lawyer

No problem. (He extends his hand). Good luck to you both.

Ken

Thanks.

Camera pans out as they shake hands and goes for a full shot of downtown Dallas.

EXT.EAGLE CREEK STATE PARK PARKING LOT, OREGON – DAY

Ken sporting a goatee and one earring awaits by the side of his Harley-Davidson. The chilly morning makes him keep his hands in his leather jacket pockets. Camera pans out and shows a red convertible Corvette with the top down driving into the lot. The Corvette parks beside Ken. Camera moves over Ken' s shoulder as he approaches and finds driver. Debbie is at the wheel, her hair cut short and dyed black.

Ken

Hi, stranger.

Debbie

Hi, stranger.

Ken

I was sure I would never see you again.

Debbie (smiling)

Why? Don' t you trust me?

Ken (also smiling)

After that two for one deal, I don' t know. There was a lot of money in that bag.

Debbie

You don' t forget, do you? We deserve that money after all the shit we went through.

Ken (looking at the ground, hesitant)

The Atlanta thing… what the cops said?

Debbie

They blamed it on crack head niggers, you know, a white dude trying to buy shit from them, and getting ripped off.

Ken (looking straight at her)

Now what?

Debbie (tapping her fingers on the wheel)

I' m gonna give you your cut, of course. A deal is a deal.

Ken

That' s fine. My business can always use some money.

Debbie

Still smuggling?

Ken (laughing)

No, hell no. Flying hunters and fishermen around. Fish and dead bears are safer than coke.

Debbie (tapping on the empty seat)

You want to come for breakfast? I know a cool place by the river.

Ken

Sure.

Ken jumps into her Corvette. They look at each other and hesitate. Camera moves over the hood and pans in through the windshield as Ken and Debbie kiss, a long and passionate kiss.

EXT.ROAD PARALLEL TO COLUMBIA RIVER – DAY

Debbie' s Corvette moves over the road. Bird' s view of Corvette as if followed from behind by a helicopter, with a full shot of gorgeous mountain view, the Columbia river glittering like a golden snake by the side of the road.

Ken (voice over)

By the way, my name isn' t Ken anymore.

Debbie (voice over)

What the Feds named you?

Ken

Ruper. Ruper Korpolinski.

Debbie (laughing)

Oh my God! You' re kidding me, aren' t you?

Ken

I ain' t.

Debbie

Well, my name ain' t Debbie either.

Ken (in a cynical tone)

What a surprise. What is it? Bertha?

Debbie

Kathy. Pretty, uh?

Ken

Nice to meet you, Kathy.

Debbie

Nice to meet you, Ruper.

Both laugh. Camera stops following the Corvette and watches as it drives away until it disappears beyond a curve into the postcard perfect landscape.

FADE OUT

Life Goes On

Of course, life is not like a movie; it is more like a dark comedy or noirfilm with a sad and ridiculous end where a lot of people die but it sure in hell is not like a Mary Poppings movie. After the incident Debbie and I took off with a gym bag leaking dope through a couple of bullet holes and a briefcase full of money with blood splattered on it. Since then I have never been back in Atlanta and I don' t even want to be anywhere near the state of Georgia. I needed to get rid of the drugs so a few ideas crossed my mind: dump the shit somewhere and never go back to Florida – probably not a good idea. Mail the stuff back to Ortega with a note telling him… well, there was no need for a note, the bullets stuck in the dope bags would be enough of a hint. Mail or UPS, I didn' t care, the only thing I was sure of is that it wasn' t going to be a personal delivery. I wanted out of the life; I didn' t want to end up like Tony, buried in a expensive suit in a grave among defunct smoke stacks, or like Sonia, as shark bait. Debbie' s idea was to keep the money in the briefcase and go to Texas and sell the stuff to her friends and then split.

" Split? What do you mean by that?" I asked. We were sitting in my truck. She smoked a cigarette held by shaking hands and mine shook empty over the steering wheel. We were parked at a McDonalds, not knowing where to go next.

" Split, you know, take off with the money." She smoked hard, consuming her cigarette in minutes.

"And live the rest of our lives waiting for Ortega to show up? I don' t think so." She didn' t answer but lit another cigarette.

"Let me ask you," I said. "The money we get, do we go half and half and then each of us split each way?" She looked at me and for once the smoke out of her nostrils came out slowly, in along draft that lasted forever. I knew she had hinted at us running away together and now I was putting the ball back in her side. Lether answer that prickly question.