Or else what? This isn’t a TV show. DANIEL
I’ll give you this, but I’m telling you now. You’ll do better to walk away and leave us alone.
STRANGER
What are you, laying a Buddhist trip on me? Fuck you.
DANIEL
No.
He reaches into the bag and pulls out a GLOCK. STRANGER
Wait—
DANIEL
Fuck you.
Daniel pulls the trigger, once, twice, three times.
Each bullet is a hammer blow. The man stumbles. Blood spurts from a hole in his neck and spatters Daniel’s T-shirt.
A childish look of fear and bafflement crosses the stranger’s face.
Then he collapses.
Daniel stares at him. Then at the gun.
The body twitches on the ground. Lips twist in agony.
Blood spills onto the dirty concrete.
Daniel stares. He looks like a man waiting for someone to yell “Cut!”
No one does.
The stranger coughs red, and dies.
Daniel looks around. His face is pale.
The skyline looms, the high-rises leaning like hooded judges.
A sudden convulsion takes Daniel, and he doubles over, claps a hand over his mouth. Barely holds the vomit down.
Staggers back to the car.
INT. BMW—CONTINUOUS
Daniel collapses into the seat.
The gun in his hand trembles.
He stares out the windshield at the man he murdered.
Then he yanks open the glove box, throws the gun inside, and squeals away.
The drive is a blurry montage of neon and darkness.
Horns squeal out of time.
Daniel’s knuckles squeeze the steering wheel. His face is wan and sticky.
He mutters to himself, word fragments of an argument in his head. Angry and scared and horrified.
DANIEL
Had to . . . he would . . . didn’t . . . I didn’t . . . meant to . . . why . . . fuck . . . oh fuck . . .
The city rages and burns outside his windows. The PCH is a guttering candle. The ocean is cold steel.
The night is slithering horror.
INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S MALIBU HOME—MOMENTS LATER
LANEY THAYER sits on the steps in their foyer. She speaks into a cell phone.
LANEY
Daniel, please, whatever you’re going to do, don’t. I know you’re trying to protect me, but you don’t want to do this.
(a beat)
Answer your phone, baby.
(a beat)
Answer your phone!
At the sound of a car engine, Laney jumps. She runs to the front door, yanks it open just as Daniel comes in.
His white T-shirt is stained crimson.
LANEY
Oh my god.
He pushes past her.
LANEY
Are you okay?
She hurries after him, to the . . .
BATHROOM—CONTINUOUS
where Daniel crouches in front of the toilet. He vomits explosively.
LANEY
Talk to me! Are you hurt?
Daniel’s chest heaves. He straightens, looks at her.
His eyes belong to a man hanging from a cliff— and slowly losing his grip.
Laney rushes to him, begins to pat at his body. LANEY
Where is it coming from?
DANIEL
It’s not mine.
The words gut punch Laney.
Daniel’s fingers clutch porcelain.
LANEY
What did you do?
DANIEL
I didn’t mean to.
He wipes at his mouth with back of his hand, and stares at something far away.
DANIEL (CONT.)
I gave him a chance. Told him to leave us alone.
(a beat)
Maybe I did mean to.
Laney paces.
DANIEL (CONT.)
It feels different than I thought it would. Worse.
(a beat)
When I shot him, it was just like on a set, with squibs and dye packs. I even, I thought, wow, this guy is good— he’s playing it well. I almost believe he’s really . . .
Another wave of nausea hits, and he vomits into the toilet, coughing and spitting between heaves. Laney kneels behind him and slowly rubs his back.
Daniel finishes. Folds his arms across the porcelain and lays his head down on them. LANEY
It’s . . . okay. We’ll figure it out. (a beat)
I wish you’d told me. I would have stopped you.
(a beat)
Or come with you.
DANIEL
I didn’t think it would be like this. LANEY
Did anyone see you?
Daniel seems not to have heard.
DANIEL
There’s no way back from this. Is there? Once you’ve done this, you’re a different person.
(a beat)
Forever.
(a beat)
It’s too high.
Laney seems like she wants to say something, but doesn’t know what that would be.
DANIEL (CONT.)
After all Bennett did to you, I wanted to. I was so.
(a beat)
But he didn’t kill anyone. I did.
A muffled sound, perhaps a man’s voice. Laney digs her cell phone from her pocket, finger already stabbing to shut it off.
But then she sees the name on the display. She stares.
Uncomprehending.
And then getting it.
Horror.
She watches Daniel as she answers.
BENNETT (O.S.)
You know, I always thought that line about not killing the messenger was just a metaphor.
Laney whimpers. Daniel looks up from the floor. BENNETT (O.S.)
How’s Dan feeling? He know he shot the wrong guy?
(a beat)
Think the police will help you now?
5
—dizzy, almost as if he were falling. Daniel wobbled on his feet, sucked in a breath of cool air. Reeling from the force and abruptness of the memory, from the crystal clarity, from the echoes of nausea and horror.