A BULLET FOR THE CASE

By

MARCUS BARLOW
SMASH IN:
EXT/ NIGHT/ WOODLAND
FIRE
The flames are so large that they engulf the screen –-
like, full on fill the fucking screen. Not an inch of that
frame isn’t not covered in the fiery inferno.
A MAN (LCU)
The crispy orange glow cuddles around his sweaty ass face.
The drops of sweat curl around the contours.
His eyes are practically wedged open. He has that thousand-
yard stare that you see in people who have seen some shit –
- and this guy has seen some shit…
He’s tossing bloody clothes into the fire.
And in his hand… A BRIEFCASE…
CUT TO:
EXT/ DAY. THE NEXT AFTERNOON/ THE GUY’S DRIVE WAY
He’s rushing. He’s not quite running –- but he might as
well be.
He’s a nervous wreck. Sweating even worse that he was by
the fire. There’s blood stains and tears on his shirt. His
tie is loose. His face is covered in an ocean of mean ass
looking scratches. This guy is in some deep shit…
He slams into his house.
CUT TO:
INT/ CONTINUED/ HIS HOUSE
The lights are out.
Then, a small lamp in the corner of the room illuminates
the side of a man, sat in the chair next to it.
He’s a bulky looking fucker –- from what we can see –- only
half of him is actually in the light.
He takes a deep drag from a cigarette and lets the smoke
consume his face.

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He speaks. His voice low and monotonous.
THE BULK
You left the door unlocked, Tom.
The guy in sweats… you may have guessed… is called TOM. And
Tom has just fucking taken the biggest shit in his
trousers. He frozen solid. All he can do is stare at this
guy.
After a moment of Tom shitting bricks…
THE BULK
Where is it?
Tom still can’t speak.
THE BULK
(slightly raising his voice)
Where is it?
TOM
(stuttering and stammering
like a shaking little lamb)
Where’s wh – I don’t – what?
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
The bulky guy places two object on the table beneath the
lamp. First, a bullet.
THE BULK
You have two choices.
He places down the second item…
A picture of a girl.
Tom’s little girl.
If he wasn’t shitting himself before; he most certainly is
now.
His breath grows unsteady and then to frantic. He can
barely force the words out of his mouth quick enough, as he
drops to his knees.

3
 TOM
(almost bursting into to
tears)
No… no. Please. Don’t.
THE BULK
Get it.
Tom drops his head back and forth.
THE BULK
(near shouting)
NOW.
Tom stumbles to his feet and makes his way up stairs.
MAKE SURE YOU USE SHOULDER RIG ON THIS BAD BOY. WE WANT TO
BE AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE!
INT/ CONTINUED/ TOM’S BEDROOM
Tom reaches under the bed and drags out the brief case and
drops it onto the mattress. He sits and thinks for a
moment. Then. Reaches into his bedside table draw and pulls
out a 9mm.
He sits and contemplates between the case and the gun.
He makes up his mind… and heads down stairs with the gun.
DOWNSTAIRS
Tom sneaks down with his gun in hand and ready to pull the
trigger. He flicks the light on to find… THE MAN ISN’T SAT
THERE ANYMORE!
From behind him, he hears the sound of movement.
He swings around with his gun aimed.
BLACKL SCREEN.
TWO GUNS SHOTS.

END.

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