Cast away

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CAST AWAY

                           CAST AWAY

                              by

                        William Broyles

                                               THIRD DRAFT

                                               March 13, 1998

FADE IN:

EXT.  MARFA, TEXAS - 1993 - WIDE - DAY

The Texas plains, horizon to horizon, nothing but the browns

and ochres of earth and the blue and violet of the sky.  The

sheer scope of it sinks in:  the blank slate of nature, the

absence of man.  On the screen superimpose:

                    MARFA, TEXAS, 1993.

CREDITS BEGIN.

A plume of dust comes into frame.  The dust is from a TRUCK,

orange and white and violet, with "FedEx" blazoned across the

side.

The truck turns into a collection of ramshackle World War II

era Quonset huts and outbuildings.  Around the outbuildings

are large sculptures of wood and metal.

EXT.  QUONSET HUT - DAY

The door is opened by a WOMAN in her late twenties.  Hair

pulled back, casual, an artist.  She hands the DRIVER a FedEx

BOX which is decorated with a drawing of two ANGEL WINGS.

The Driver has a hand-held computer; a portable printer

dangles from his belt.

The Driver scans the package with his hand-held computer,

prints out a label and sticks it on the Box, ready to go.

But something on the box catches her eye.  She wants it back.

He glances at his watch.  She draws RINGS around the Wings,

uniting them.  She gives the box to the Driver, then hands

him a cup of coffee.  They've done this before.

He takes a sip of the coffee, then runs for the truck.  He

jumps in and heads back onto the plains.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICE - MIDLAND/ODESSA - NIGHT - HOURS LATER

The Driver jams the distinctive Angel Wing Box on top of a

dolly and loads it into a CONTAINER with clear plastic sides.

A female Loader slaps a large bar code label on the

container, scans it, then pulls the container across a belt

of rollers onto a larger truck.  The doors of the truck

close.  The latch slams down.

A forklift hoists the container to the cargo doors of a 737.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT SUPERHUB - NIGHT

The 737 lands.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

One of a seemingly endless line of FedEx planes, our 737

taxis to a gate at the FedEx SUPERHUB.  The Hub is a vast

living organism -- loud, complex, overwhelming, as much a

symbol of modern life as was the factory in Modern Times.

Five thousand people work in a frenzy of interconnected

activity inside three vast hangers brightly lit.  Hundreds of

forklifts and cargo-pullers dart about, their headlights

crisscrossing like a laser show.

Loaders quickly roll the container onto a FORKLIFT.

INT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT

The forklift speeds inside one of the hangers to a LOADING

BELT, where our Box is spilled into a Mississippi River of

packages, HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of them, all shapes and

sizes, from shoe boxes to engine blocks.  Large mechanical

arms divert the immense flow of Workers at dozens of

stations.  The packages surge and move.

The Workers place the packages label-side-up on new belts,

where they're scanned by laser readers.  Picking up speed our

Box is shunted across the acres of interlocking belts.

The Box ends up in a much larger CONTAINER labeled CDG.

EXT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT

A forklift lifts the Container to a door on a giant MD-11.

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT

A jumbled room jammed with computers and dominated by a HUGE

WALL GRAPHIC that charts hundreds of airplanes.  An Operator

moves a yellow strip labeled Jumbo 12 across the board.

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY

SERIES OF SHOTS

The giant place touches down in Paris.  The Angel Wing Box

moves quickly on another belt and disappears into another

CONTAINER, which is loaded onto still another AIRPLANE.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG AIRPORT, RUSSIA - NIGHT

The plane lands.  The container is unloaded down a belt.  We

see our Angel Box.  Directly in front of it is a DENTED BOX.

INT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE, RUSSIA

SERIES OF SHOTS

Night.  The manic activity has come to a dead stop.  Our two

Boxes sit on a table in a corner not far from a small

Christmas tree.

Daylight now.  YURI, a Supervisor, saunters over, picks up

the Angel Box, sees an attractive co-worker, puts it down.

Night again.  A cat walks by the table where our two Boxes

have come to rest.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE - DAY

A FedEx truck pulls out of the warehouse.  The walls of the

warehouse are covered with graffiti.  The streets are slushy,

the buildings blanketed in snow.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG - DAY

The Driver sits in the truck drinking tea.  He takes a last

sip, sighs, gets out with the Angel Box.  Walks slowly toward

an APARTMENT HOUSE.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG APARTMENT HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

A beautiful young RUSSIAN WOMAN opens the door.  A young

AMERICAN MAN comes up behind her, signs the form and takes

the Angel Box.  We see Christmas decorations inside.  The

woman puts her arms around him as the door closes.

                     RUSSIAN WOMAN (O.S.)

               (accented English)

          It's pretty.  Who is it from?

                     AMERICAN MAN (O.S.)

          My wife.

We stay with the Driver as he ambles back toward the truck.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

The Driver has just delivered the Dented Box to ALEKSEI,

Russian Businessman, who closes the door of a Czarist-era

building.  Aleksei checks his watch, picks up the phone.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY

CHUCK NOLAND, early thirties, walks along a line of brightly

colored jitneys, each bearing the FedEx logo.  With him is a

Filipino FedEx SUPERVISOR wearing a guayabera.  Chuck

glistens with a thin layer of sweat.

                     CHUCK

          My guess is we're talking fuel filters

          here, Fernando.  The gas is dirty, these

          jitneys get in the mountains, their

          engines cut out.

                     FERNANDO

          That could lose us half an hour.

                     CHUCK

          Easy.  Each way.

His beeper goes off.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck is on the phone.

                     CHUCK

          So it finally turned up...

Chuck hesitates for a moment, then looks at his watch.

                     CHUCK

          I'll catch the sweep tonight.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Strapped into the jump seat behind the pilots, Chuck sleeps

with a mask over his eyes.  On his lap are some travel

brochures.  We see sailboats, we see the Florida keys.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICES - DAY

Christmas in Russia.  Snow everywhere.  Brightly colored

lights.  Chucks gets out of a Volga with Aleksei.  He has a

bag over his shoulder, the dented package under one arm.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - DAY

The staff has assembled near the loading dock.  Yuri the

station manager stands in front, occasionally catching the

eye of the attractive woman.  Chuck displays the FedEx box.

                     CHUCK

          It took this test package thirty-two

          hours to get from Seattle to St.

          Petersburg, a distance of nine thousand

          miles.  And then it took forty-one hours

          to get from our warehouse in St.

          Petersburg to here, a distance of,

          what --

                     ALEKSEI

          Six kilometers.  Four miles.

                     CHUCK

          So how are we going to get this place

          shaped up?

There's a muttered chorus of answers.

                     CHUCK

          There's only one way.  We have to work

          together.  Every one of us depends on

          everyone else.  If one package is late,

          we are all late.  If one truck misses the

          deadline, we all miss the deadline.

          Let's start by taking a look around.

Chuck leads his team through the sorting area.  Yuri squeezes

right next to him, ostentatiously carrying a clipboard.

Chuck stops.

                     CHUCK

          Here, this table is too far from the

          wall.  Packages can slip down...like...

               (pulls out a package from

                behind a table)

          ...this.

He hefts the package, as if trying to guess what's inside.

                     CHUCK

          What could be in here?  Let's say one of

          you sent it.  Could be the closing papers

          on your dacha, could be a toy for your

          grandson's birthday, could be a kidney to

          keep your mother alive.  I don't think

          you want your mother's kidney to end up

          behind a table.

The Sorter shoves the table against the wall.  Yuri says

something to the Translator.

                     TRANSLATOR

          He says they have been very busy.  It is

          hard to get good employees.  He is sure

          you understand.

Wrong answer:  Chuck glances sharply at Yuri.  Aleksei

appears with a cellular phone.

                     ALEKSEI

          Phone call.  Malaysia.

Chuck takes the phone, opening his BAG as he does so.

                     CHUCK

          Kamal?  Right.  I'm getting them.

He pulls out a set of blueprints and tacks them to a bulletin

board as he talks.

                     CHUCK

          I'm looking at the blueprints of K.L.

          right now.  The belts are too small for

          the sorters.  Yeah, sometimes you never

          see what's right in front of your face.

          Look, it's --

Chuck keeps an eye on what is going on in the warehouse.

Then he notices something over by one of the trucks.

                     CHUCK

               (to a loader)

          Hold it!  Hazardous material needs its

          own container!

               (back on the phone)

          -- three in the afternoon there, right?

          That gives you five hours until the sweep

          comes through.  Do the sort by hand

          tonight, then put in a new feeder belt,

          say a twenty-four incher.  Yes, overtime

          is authorized.

He hangs up the phone.  He turns to the crew.

                     CHUCK

          I'm going out on every route, I'm going

          to work every job here, until I know

          enough to help you.  That's it.

The crew disperses back to work.  Chuck and Aleksei walk

toward the office.  They've done this before.  Chuck lets a

corner of his command persona slip.

                     ALEKSEI

          It's bad.

                     CHUCK

          Worse than Warsaw.

                     ALEKSEI

          Nobody remembers that.

                     CHUCK

          The failures they remember.  It's the

          successes they forget.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

A FedEx truck pulls out of the FedEx office.  Chuck is

inside.  He notices the graffiti on the walls.

INT.  TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck rides next to LEV, the driver, a serious sort.  The

Translator squats on some boxes between them, trying to keep

his balance.

                     CHUCK

          You sorted your packages before you left.

          None of the other drivers did.

The Translator and Lev exchange a few words.

                     TRANSLATOR

          He says he wants to be organized.  Do

          packages in order.

Chuck looks at Lev with respect.  Right answer.

                     CHUCK

          So how come the other drivers haven't

          left yet?

The Translator asks Lev, who looks at him as if he is crazy,

then snorts an answer.  The Translator blushes.

                     TRANSLATOR

          He says -- he is a very rude fellow --

                     CHUCK

          Tell me exactly what he said.

                     TRANSLATOR

          He says why don't his farts smell sweet?

Chuck grins.  Lev shrugs and says something else.

                     TRANSLATOR

          He says that's just the way it is.

                     CHUCK

          Lev -- it's Lev, right?  Listen, this is

          FedEx.  We don't have to accept the way

          it is.

EXT.  HOTEL - ST. PETERSBURG

A weary Chuck enters the hotel.  In the sky above him we see

the Northern Lights.  He doesn't even look up.

INT.  HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck is watching CNN on the television, working his

PowerBook, and holding the phone.

                     CHUCK

          No, keep trying.  A circuit's bound to

          open up.

He hangs up.

                     CHUCK

               (to himself)

          Those damn Northern Lights.

Just then the lights go off.  For a moment everything is

darkness.  Then a small light switches on.  Chuck has a

headlamp on.

He gets up, heads into the bathroom.  We stay in the bedroom.

After only a moment, the light reemerges.  It heads over to

his bag.  We go with it.

Chuck takes out a roll of toilet paper.  The guy is prepared

for anything.  He goes into the bathroom, closes the door.

The lights come back on just as the phone rings.

We hear scuffling sounds on the other side of the door.

Chuck charges out, holding up his pants.

Grabs the phone.

                     CHUCK

          Hello?  Great.  Try it.

He waits.  We hear an ANSWERING MACHINE.

                     KELLY (V.O.)

          This is Kelly, leave me a message and

          I'll call you back soon as I can.

This is not what Chuck wanted to hear.

                     CHUCK

          Kelly, damn, look, this is Chuck.  I'm

          going to be a little late.  Well, more

          than a little.  I had to go to Russia.

          Couldn't be helped.  Could you call and

          cancel the trip?  Look, we'll sail the

          Keys in March.  It's better then anyway.

          I'll be back before Christmas.  I

          promise.  I think.  I mean, I will.  I,

          uh --

He's stumbling over whether to say I love you.

                     CHUCK

          I miss you.

He gently hangs up the phone.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - SERIES OF SHOTS

A surprised Yuri stands with the attractive assistant as

Chuck takes his clipboard away.

An even more surprised Lev stands by his truck as Chuck hands

the clipboard to him.

Chuck and the loaders clean off the graffiti.

Working alongside the sorters as the packages come in, Chuck

points out how to organize the inflow.

Chuck and Lev go over large maps of St. Petersburg with the

drivers.

INT.  FEDEX WAREHOUSE - ST. PETERSBURG - WEEK LATER

A big semi is being loaded with outgoing packages for the

airport run.  Aleksei, Chuck, Lev and the office executives

watch as containers are rolled on.

                     LEV

          We've never got all the trucks in on

          time.  Never.

Chucks looks at the clock.

                     CHUCK

          Only one still left?

                     LEV

          Route six.

Aleksei points at the big semi.

                     ALEKSEI

          If we don't send it now we may miss the

          connection in Paris.

The pressure in on.  Chuck looks around at his team.

                     CHUCK

               (to Aleksei)

          Give it five minutes.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

The last truck rolls in.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG

The last truck enters and loading dock.  A few loaders move

toward it.  The executives all stand and watch.  But not

Chuck.  He's hands on.

                     CHUCK

          Let's go.

He heads toward the truck and begins pulling off packages.

All the other executives follow him.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

Led by Chuck, who works like a man possessed, they sort the

packages.

                     CHUCK

          That's Bermuda.  Bermuda is in the

          Memphis thru container.  No, Azores is

          Europe.

He gestures at a closed container.

                     CHUCK

          The Paris container.  Africa too.  Japan

          goes to Memphis.

Chuck is everywhere, setting the example.  The whole office

is energized, working together.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

They load the last container on the waiting truck.  Chuck

pounds the truck on the side.  Go.

The truck roars out of the loading dock.

Everyone takes a breath.  They are happy, proud.

                     LEV

          We did it.  All of them.

                     CHUCK

          Great job, everyone.  Remember, work

          together.  We are like a hand...

They've heard this before.  Lev holds up his hand just before

Chuck does.

                     LEV

          One finger, weak.  All fingers working

          together, strong.

This makes Chuck smile.

                     CHUCK

          You got it.

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY

A FedEx MD-11 is being loaded with huge containers of

freight.  Chuck goes up the gangway next to the forklifts.

INT.  MD-11 - MOMENTS LATER

The pilots -- JACK and GWEN -- are going down their check

lists.  Chuck sticks his head in the cockpit.

                     CHUCK

          I absolutely, positively, have to get to

          Memphis overnight.

                     JACK

          Can't help you.  Try UPS.

                     CHUCK

          Jack -- gotta be something wrong with our

          physicals, you keep getting certified to

          fly.  Gwen, aren't you worried?

                     GWEN

          Terrified.

                     CHUCK

          We're on time, right?

                     JACK

          On time, Chuck.

Chuck hands Jack and Gwen small packages.

                     CHUCK

          Little present from the emerging

          republics.

Another FedEx Road Warrior named STAN gets on.  He and Chuck

are obviously old hands at this.

                     CHUCK

          What connects the world?  What makes it

          one?

               (they ignore him)

          We do.  FedEx.

                     GWEN

          You are such a lifer.

                     STAN

          What do you expect, from the guy who

          stole a kid's bicycle when his truck

          broke down?

                     CHUCK

          Borrowed.  I borrowed it.

The two of them strap in.

                     STAN

          How'd it go?

                     CHUCK

          Great.  Terrific.  The good guys won one

          for a change.

He's finished a tough job.  He's relaxed and on his way home.

But Stan's his boss, and Stan's got bad news.

                     STAN

          I had to bump your plane last night.

Chuck can't believe it.

                     CHUCK

          You what?

                     STAN

          It was fifteen minutes late.

The plane begins to taxi.

                     CHUCK

          I checked the weather, you had the jet

          stream, you could have made it up.

                     STAN

          But I might not have.

                     CHUCK

          Jesus.  I got it working... You have no

          idea how hard it was... They're finally a

          team...

                     STAN

          I'm touched.

                     CHUCK

          You fucked us over.

                     STAN

          The point of FedEx, as I understand it,

          is to make the damn connection.

                     CHUCK

          I was making a point.

                     STAN

          What?  Let Paris hold its plane?  Let

          Memphis take care of it?  Let somebody

          down the line clean up your mess?

                     CHUCK

          Every person counts, every package

          counts, that's my point.

                     STAN

          You know what your problem is?  You just

          see the packages in front of you.  You

          don't see the big picture.

                     CHUCK

          Baloney.  I do see the damn "big

          picture."

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - NIGHT

The MD-11 takes off.

INT.  MD-11 - NIGHT

Chuck is focused on his PowerBook with the screen away from

us, Stan is doing tai chi amidst the FedEx containers.  It

feels a little surreal, all those containers surrounding

them.

Stan comes over, looks at the image on the computer.  It's a

sailboat with some technical specifications under it.

                     STAN

          I didn't know we had sailboats.

                     CHUCK

          It's a ketch Kelly and I had chartered.

                     STAN

          For all those vacation days you got

          coming.

Chuck doesn't look up.

                     CHUCK

          And never take.

                     STAN

          Look, I'm sorry about your plane.  But I

          couldn't risk being late into Memphis.

                     CHUCK

          Forget it.

                     STAN

          You know General McLelland, he wouldn't

          attack unless he had everything just

          right.  Finally Abe Lincoln came to him

          and said, General, if you're not going to

          use my army, could I borrow it for a

          while?  So he gave it to Grant and Grant

          just said, let's go.

                     CHUCK

          I'm from Arkansas.  Tell me a story with

          Robert E. Lee in it and maybe I'll pay

          attention.

                     STAN

          We're warriors, not desk jockeys.  We've

          got to be bold.  You always want all your

          ducks lined up.  But nothing's 100

          percent.  It's always 60-40, maybe 51-49.

          Hell, I'd take 40-60.  Then roll the

          dice.

                     CHUCK

          That's why you're a gambling man.

                     STAN

          That's why I'm running foreign and you're

          not.  That's why you're not married and I

          am.

                     CHUCK

          For the third time.

                     STAN

          Take the plunge, admit your mistakes,

          move on to tomorrow.  That's FedEx,

          that's women, that's life.

Stan is so outrageous, Chuck can't help but laugh.

                     CHUCK

          You are one sick fucker.

                     STAN

          I'm trying to help you here.  There's

          Warsaw, there's this --

                     CHUCK

          This was nothing like Warsaw.  I held the

          truck then minutes, it's not that big a

          deal.

But apparently it is.

                     STAN

          Look, that kids' bike, that's a guy

          who'll do what it takes to get there on

          time.  Live up to your legend, that's all

          I'm saying.

Chuck reaches in his pocket, pulls out a bill.

                     CHUCK

          A hundred rubles St. Petersburg hits 95

          percent in a month.

                     STAN

          Ninety five percent?  Just give me the

          money now.

                     CHUCK

          Talk is cheap.  Are we on or not?

                     STAN

          We're on.

Chuck closes the PowerBook.

                     CHUCK

          Let's go off-line.

They both take out their Valium -- the price they pay for

being such road warriors.

                     CHUCK

          Two Valium...

Stan puts on his Walkman.

                     STAN

          And the Stones.  Got to be.

It's their ritual.  Chuck puts headphones from his Walkman

over his ears, puts a mask over his eyes and leans his head

back onto the headrest.  We hear the Rolling Stones.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT - WIDE

The MD-11 arrives at its gate.  The cargo doors open.

Forklifts and a gangway roll up to the side.

INT.  MD-11 - NIGHT

Stan stands smiling over Chuck.

                     STAN

          Chuck.  Wake up Chuck.

Chuck pulls off the mask, takes out the earplugs.  He manages

a groggy grin.

                     STAN

          You gotta do your own delivery from here.

INT.  SUPERHUB - NIGHT

Chuck walks through the extraordinary nexus of speeding

packages that intersect in intricate paths above and around

him.  This is the beating center of the FedEx world, the

crossroads, the deep core where everything connects.  In his

still-drugged state it all seems weirdly psychedelic.  A

Christmas tree goes by, then a huge plastic Santa Claus, both

with shipping labels.

EXT.  CHICKASAW GARDENS - MEMPHIS - NIGHT

Chuck's car pulls into the driveway of a small cottage in an

older Memphis neighborhood.  The radio is playing the news.

INT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck drops his briefcase and his bag.  The place is a jumble

of clothes, papers, books, etc.  In the living room is a tank

of tropical fish.  The water looks a little green.  No

bubbles are coming from the filter.

Uh oh.

Chuck walks to the tank.  He tightens a piece of tape that

holds the power cord onto the filter, taps the filter with

his finger, once, twice...the bubbles start again.

                     CHUCK

          Damn thing.

But for a couple of fish floating on top of the tank it's too

late.

Chuck gets out his scoop and slowly skims them off.

                     CHUCK

          Sorry, I'm really sorry.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - BACK YARD

Chuck digs a small hole in the back yard with a large kitchen

spoon.

Drops the dead fish in.

Fills the hole.

INT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - LATER

The CD is playing.  Chuck lies in bed, switches on the TV.

This is no good.  He doesn't care how late it is, he's going

to find Kelly.

EXT.  MEMPHIS - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck drives in his car through the streets of Memphis.

EXT.  UNIVERSITY - NIGHT

Chuck pulls up to a lab building at Memphis State.

INT.  LAB - NIGHT

Two doctoral candidates are playing Doom on their computers

when Chuck walks in.

                     CHUCK

          You seen Kelly Frears?

One of them gestures toward a door.

                     GUY

          Xerox machine.

INT.  HALLWAY - NIGHT

Chuck makes his way in the semi-darkness past rack after rack

of specimens in bottles.

Ahead of him we see the flashing green light of a Xerox

machine.

INT.  XEROX ROOM

The light goes off.  KELLY leans over the machine, bangs on

it.

                     KELLY

          Sonofabitch!

                     CHUCK

          Hey, be nice to it, it'll be nice to you.

Surprised, Kelly turns to greet Chuck.

                     KELLY

          Chuck!  You're back!

She leaps into his arms.

                     KELLY

          Your eyes are puffy.  Did you take Valium

          again?

                     CHUCK

          You smell like formaldehyde.

Kelly looks over at the Xerox.

                     KELLY

          My last chapter's in there, and the damn

          machine's jammed.

                     CHUCK

          Let's take a look.

He lifts up the cover.

                     KELLY

          How was Russia?

                     CHUCK

          Cold.

                     KELLY

          Don't overwhelm me with details, you know

          how I hate that.  Did you get it fixed?

                     CHUCK

          I thought I did.

He pries up one feeder, then another.

                     CHUCK

          Got to follow the paper path here.

                     KELLY

          Chuck, forget the Xerox.  So Russia

          didn't turn out well?

But Chuck doesn't want to talk.  He's focused on the machine.

                     CHUCK

          Used to you could fix these yourself.

She pulls him out of the machine.  He has toner on his

fingers.

                     KELLY

          Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          What do you want me to say?  That I

          thought I'd done a great job but it all

          turned to shit?  That I might as well

          have gone sailing for all the good I did?

                     KELLY

          Yeah, tell me.  Tell me all of it.

He suddenly looks really tired.

                     KELLY

          You don't even know what time it is.

          What day it is.

He turns to the Xerox in frustration.

                     CHUCK

          And I can't fix this damn machine.

She looks at him.

                     KELLY

          Come on.

INT.  KELLY'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

A tiny cubicle with a door.  She closes it, takes some paper

towels out of the desk, wipes his fingers.

                     KELLY

          We're on the deck of the ketch, the air's

          soft, the water's clear as crystal...

She licks the last bit of toner off his fingers.

                     CHUCK

          That's carcinogenic.

She ignores that, stays with the fantasy.

                     KELLY

          We're covered with suntan lotion and

          sweat.  Our skin is so hot, it's

          glowing...

And she comes closer to him.

                     KELLY

          We could take a swim.

She's really close now.

                     CHUCK

          On the other hand we could not take a

          swim...

They squiggle themselves onto the desk.

INT.  LAB - NIGHT

Someone kicks the door shut.  Now the figures are in

silhouette, lit by the light in the office.

And then the light goes out.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - NEXT MORNING

A nondescript office park near the airport.  No sign.

Chuck's car screeches into the parking lot.  He jumps out,

glances at this watch, and heads for the building at a run.

INT.  EXECUTIVE CONFERENCE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

A large room dominated by an animated MAP OF THE WORLD.

Lights at various locations blink and flash.  Above the map

are a large Sign saying "Here Today, Gone Tomorrow" and two

huge digital Clocks -- one keeping time, the other a

countdown clock for that day's package sort at the SuperHub.

The operations team of FedEx sits around a large table.  Each

has on a headset.  BECCA TWIGG, the business-like senior vice

president of Operations, addresses questions to a man --

COLIN PARKER-BOWLES, the European operations manager -- on a

LARGE TV SCREEN in front of her.  "London" is superimposed on

the screen.

                     BECCA

          So why was Milan late, Colin?

                     COLIN

          One of the race horses coming from

          Ireland got colic and had to be off-

          loaded in Brussels.  That put the Jumbo

          15, six hours late into Charles De

          Gaulle.  Customs had difficulty locating

          the dutiable items...

Colin continues as Chuck, out of breath, slips under the

screen and heads for the one remaining vacant seat -- across

from Stan.  Next to Stan is MAYNARD GRAHAM, an MBA systems

man.  Becca addresses a question over to Stan.

                     BECCA

          Stan, can we get P&A down to work with

          Milan customs?

                     STAN

          We're already on it.

                     BECCA

          Good.  And let's look at our live animal

          policy.  I don't think the income stream

          justifies delaying IP product, especially

          at Christmas.

Colin disappears.  A red light goes on.  Becca pushes a

button.  Another face comes on the screen.  "Oakland" appears

under the face.

                     BECCA

          Stand by, Benson, we're still wrapping up

          foreign.

She turns pointedly to Chuck.

                     BECCA

          Chuck, thanks for joining us.  Status?

Chuck swallows nervously, tries to talk matter-of-factly.

                     CHUCK

          Becca, as you know St. Petersburg was

          consistently running late by six to ten

          hours -- sometimes a full day or more.  I

          replaced the station manager.  We

          identified inefficiencies and worked out

          a quality improvement plan I believe can

          be met.

                     MAYNARD

          You replaced the station manager with a

          driver.  A local with no knowledge of our

          systems.

                     BECCA

          Shouldn't you have brought in someone

          from Memphis?  Russia is priority one.

                     MAYNARD

          James Pottinger is available.

The process is being ripped out of Chuck's hands.  He

struggles to get an answer.

                     STAN

          He's a numbers cruncher.  Chuck's done

          all the right things here...

Stan is doing his best to back up Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          Jim's a terrific financial man, no

          question.  But we can't always parachute

          in from Memphis.  We've got to build up

          our local staff.

                     MAYNARD

          We've got to improve foreign on-time,

          that's what we've got to do.  If this new

          guy's so good, how come the very first

          plane he sent missed the connection in

          Paris?

Maynard knows how to go for the jugular.  Everyone looks at

Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          We're building a new team here.  We got

          every package on the truck for the first

          time ever.  Success is the best teacher.

                     MAYNARD

          I don't call missing the plane a success.

Everyone looks at Chuck.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - LATE THAT AFTERNOON

Chuck lugs a big package up to the door, knocks on it.  Kelly

opens the door.

                     KELLY

          Merry Christmas eve.

                     CHUCK

          Not if you work for FedEx.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY

Chuck enters as they keep talking.  Her house is cozy but

also where she works.  There's a computer, specimen jars, and

some terrariums with frogs inside.  A Christmas tree with

packages under it.

                     KELLY

          You break four million packages last

          night?

In the b.g. one of the packages by the Christmas tree is

starting to shake on its own.

                     CHUCK

          Four four.  A record.

                     KELLY

          You don't seem too happy about it.

                     CHUCK

          Ah, the staff meeting could have gone

          better.

                     KELLY

          Let me guess, Russia came up?

Chuck's attention goes to the tree.

                     CHUCK

          One of those packages just moved.

The package turns over, something darts out.  It's a puppy,

with a bow around its neck.

                     KELLY

          Merry Christmas.

Chuck bends down to see the puppy.

                     CHUCK

          Hey, look at you.

                     KELLY

          I figure, if we could take care of a

          puppy, we could, you know, take care

          of --

A baby, she wants to say, but that's going a little fast so

she catches herself.  Chuck picks the puppy up.

                     CHUCK

          He is a cute thing.

                     KELLY

          He's your cute thing.

                     CHUCK

          I can't even keep fish alive.

                     KELLY

          A puppy's got a little more personality

          than a fish.

                     CHUCK

          And for you --

Chuck hands over his present.

                     KELLY

          So do good things come in large packages?

Kelly opens Chuck's present -- a very large box.

It's a piece of luggage.

                     CHUCK

          You know, for when you travel.

                     KELLY

          For when I travel?

She can't believe it.  It's the exact opposite of what she

wanted.

                     KELLY

          You should have got me something that

          shows you want us to be together, not

          apart.

Chuck is flummoxed.  Women read so much into things.

                     CHUCK

          I wasn't sending a message.  I though

          you'd like it.

Chuck's beeper goes off.

                     KELLY

          You should have got me a ring.

He checks the number.

                     CHUCK

          I have to go.  I'm on call for overflow

          down at the Hub.

                     KELLY

          A ring.  I wanted a ring.

                     CHUCK

          You did?

She nods.  What to do?

                     CHUCK

          Look, I love the puppy.  I love you.  But

          I have to go.

                     KELLY

          You can't go now.

                     CHUCK

          I have to.

                     KELLY

          You want to.

Chuck picks up the puppy.

                     CHUCK

          What should we call him?  Or is it her?

          How about Jango?

Kelly is having one of those moments when everything comes

clear.

                     KELLY

          This isn't working out.

                     CHUCK

          We're a little emotional here.  It's

          Christmas, maybe we're over-reacting.

                     KELLY

          "We're" not over-reacting.

                     CHUCK

          Could you watch Jango?

                     KELLY

          No.

                     CHUCK

          I can't take him to work.

He hands her the puppy.

                     CHUCK

          We'll talk about it when I come back.

          It'll all be fine.  Really.

This is not a happy woman he is leaving behind.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - HOUSE LATER

It's dark now.  Chuck returns.  The stars are putting on an

amazing show, but he doesn't notice as he heads for the door.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

Chuck enters.  The tree and the presents under it are gone.

                     CHUCK

          Kelly?  Kelly?

No answer, nothing but the sound of Jango, who begins yelping

in the kitchen.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck picks up Jango, who is barricaded in the kitchen with

some food, some water, and some wet newspapers.

                     CHUCK

          There.  There.  Easy now.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - BACK YARD - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

Holding Jango, Chuck walks out into the back yard.

                     CHUCK

          Kelly?

A fire still smolders.  The packages have burned.  The tree

is a blackened mess.

Chuck stares at it.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - NEXT MORNING

Chuck gets into his car, puts Jango on the front seat next to

him.  Pulls out of the driveway.

EXT.  ARKANSAS HIGHWAY - DAY

Chuck is in his car, with the dog on his lap.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

Chuck's car drives up to a typical Arkansas farm house.  His

MOM is setting some Christmas tree lights around the door.

Chuck gets out of the car.  There's a large wet spot on the

front of his pants.

                     MOM

          What happened to your pants?

                     CHUCK

          Mom, meet Jango.

Chuck displays the puppy.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - SHED - DAY

Chuck works on an old tractor in the shed.  Some small legs

appear in his vision, then a small face.  This is AMANDA, his

niece.

                     AMANDA

          Dinner's ready.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Around the table are Chuck's brother ROGER, his wife MARY,

Amanda, and her TWO BROTHERS.  Mom brings in the turkey,

places it on the table, sits down.  They all hold hands and

bow their heads.

                     MOM

          Chuck?

Chuck hesitates just a moment.

                     CHUCK

          Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts,

          which we are about to receive, from thou

          bounty, through Christ the Lord.  Amen.

                     ROGER

          Let's eat.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY

The children burst out the door, shrieking, chased by Jango.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

The grown-ups are cleaning up after Christmas dinner.  The

scene moves between the table, the kitchen counter, and the

refrigerator.  It's an old-fashioned kitchen, simply

furnished.

                     MARY

          How's Kelly?

                     CHUCK

          Great.

                     ROGER

          Thought you were going to bring her.

                     CHUCK

          So did I.

                     MOM

          It seemed like she had such a good time

          last time.

                     CHUCK

          It's nothing you did, Mom, believe me.

                     MARY

          Jennifer's still down at the post office.

          And she's still got that crush on you.

                     ROGER

          And she's still got those --

                     MARY

          Roger.

                     ROGER

          You should have stuck around.

This is an old, sore subject.

                     CHUCK

          Look, I help take care of the place.  You

          got my check, didn't you Mom?

                     MOM

          That new roof, that's your doing.

                     ROGER

          You're just allergic to farming, that's

          what dad said.  Can't stand to be alone.

          Can't stand to be in one place.  Can't

          stand the sight of...blood.

He drops the turkey giblets into the trash.

                     MARY

          Roger's going to put chickens in here.

Chuck can't believe this.

                     CHUCK

          Come on Roger, this is dad all over

          again.  You already did beefalo,

          chinchillas, and what was that, ostrich?

          They chased Mom around the yard, sprained

          her hip.

Mom goes to the freezer and takes out some frozen

strawberries.

                     MOM

          It wasn't that bad, dear.

                     MARY

          You can't make a living out of this

          place.  We tried.

                     CHUCK

          But chickens?

                     ROGER

          Sixty three pounds consumed per capita,

          up from twenty seven in 1960.  Going to

          pass beef.  Chicken's global.  No

          religious taboos.  You don't see your

          Hindus and your Muslims boycotting

          poultry.

                     CHUCK

          True enough.  No sacred chickens nowhere,

          so far as I know.

                     MOM

          Roger's working at Tyson's now.

Mom mashes the block of frozen strawberries with a fork to

separate the strawberries from the ice.

                     CHUCK

          Really?

                     ROGER

          Come on down to the plant.  It's state of

          the art.  We're doing for chickens what

          FedEx did for the delivery business.

                     CHUCK

          Just don't count 'em before they hatch.

Roger grins at him.  This is just how they are.

                     ROGER

          I'll try to remember that.

                     MOM

          Dessert.

They all sit down.  Mom brings the slushy frozen strawberries

to the table, squirts on some Reddi-whip.  Looks pointedly at

Chuck.

                     MOM

          Speaking of hatching, I could sure use

          some more grandchildren.

Not a timely topic with Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          Mom, this is a farm.  We've got real

          strawberries growing outside, we've got

          real cream.

                     MOM

          Oh no, the prodigal son's home.  We bring

          out the store bought.

Chuck takes a bite, winces a little as the cold strawberries

hit his teeth.

EXT.  MOM'S HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck fixes the drain pipe while Mom prunes the rose bushes

around the porch.

                     CHUCK

          Maybe I should take a few days off.

          Roger's working now, you could use some

          help around here...

                     MOM

          Don't you even think about it.

                     CHUCK

          The place is falling apart.

                     MOM

          I'm doing fine.

She looks pointedly at Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          Doing great, Mom, don't worry about me.

                     MOM

          There's settled folks, and there's

          nomads.  You're just not a settled folk.

          You never belonged here.

Chuck finishes the drain pipe.  Gives it a thunk with his

finger.

                     CHUCK

          Come on inside, Mom.  You've had a long

          day.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT

In his boyhood room, we see Chuck's laptop, which is hooked

up to the internet FedEx homepage.  All around him are models

of boats and planes, maps, pictures of far-off places.  The

room of a boy who always fantasized about getting away.

Chuck is beside it, slumped down on the desk.  Asleep.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

His mom waves to him as Chuck drives away.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICE - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck enters his office, on the go.  His assistant LESLIE is

waiting for him.

                     CHUCK

          I need the latest PDRs on St. Petersburg.

                     LESLIE

          And how was your Christmas?

                     CHUCK

          Terrific.  Yours?

She nods, used to this.

                     CHUCK

          And get me in to the dentist.  My tooth's

          acting up.

Stan enters.

                     STAN

          Malaysia's tanking.  We're meeting in ten

          in operations.

                     CHUCK

          Right.

               (to Leslie)

          Get me everything on Indonesia, New

          Guinea, all the way to Australia.

INT.  OPERATIONS ROOM - MINUTES LATER

Chuck, Leslie, Stan and another executive from the meeting

named DICK are gathered around the TV screen.  A squawk box

is on the table.

                     CHUCK

          Kamal?  Kamal?  Can you hear us?

The box squawks.  The TV screen rolls an imperfect image.

                     DICK

          Can't we get this working?

A Technician is fiddling with the TV set.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Trying.

                     CHUCK

          Kamal, you're breaking up.  Can you hear

          us?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)

          Kamal is not here.

                     CHUCK

          Who is this?  Where is Kamal?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)

          It is Ibrim, I, I am a sorter.

                     CHUCK

          What's going on down there?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)

          Kamal is not here.  We are very defused.

                     CHUCK

          Who's in charge then, where is Chinn?

The squawk box hums and crackles.  Nothing.  Chuck turns to

the Technician.

                     STAN

          We got Telex, e-mail?

                     TECHNICIAN

          Sure.  Just not getting any answers.

Chuck turns to Leslie.

                     CHUCK

          When's the next Jumbo?

                     LESLIE

          The regular flight is scheduled for oh

          three hundred tomorrow.

                     CHUCK

          Anything else?

                     LESLIE

          There's a sweep leaving Memphis in an

          hour, goes through Sydney.

                     STAN

          Maybe you should get your ducks lined up

          first.

Chuck looks over at Stan.

                     CHUCK

          Call Operations.  Get me on it.

And Stan is impressed.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - DAY

Chuck leaves with his bag over his shoulder and the puppy

under his arm.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - MINUTES LATER

Kelly opens the door.  Chuck is there with the puppy.

                     KELLY

          That's your dog.

                     CHUCK

          It's our dog.  It belongs to us.

                     KELLY

          There isn't any us.

                     CHUCK

          Yes there is.

Kelly can't stay mad.

                     KELLY

          I'm sorry about the presents.  I got a

          little carried away.

                     CHUCK

          No, it was great.  Maybe a little

          overkill --

                     KELLY

          I burned the Christmas tree.

She's half-laughing, half-wanting-to-cry.

                     KELLY

          Why didn't you come over, get mad at me,

          tell me what a stupid bitch I was.

                     CHUCK

          I guess I hadn't thought through how I

          felt.

                     KELLY

          What, you were going to come over the

          next day all calm and say, Kelly that

          really made me mad?  Don't tell me you're

          mad.  Be mad.  Be who you are right now.

                     CHUCK

          Look, we'll do our trip as soon as I get

          back.

                     KELLY

          Don't even start.

And then it hits her.

                     KELLY

          Get back?  From where?

                     CHUCK

          Malaysia.  They're holding the sweep.

She stares at him for a long moment, then at the puppy.

                     KELLY

          Give him to me.

He hands her the dog.

                     KELLY

          Chuck, you're breaking my heart.

                     CHUCK

          A week, max.  Okay?  Okay?

                     KELLY

          Go on.  We'll be fine.  I'll feed Jango

          to the frogs.

She kisses the puppy.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck enters the cockpit, where two different pilots are

going through their checklists.  Chuck repeats his familiar

patter.

                     CHUCK

          Al -- gotta be something wrong with our

          physicals, you keep getting certified to

          fly.  John, aren't you worried?

                     JOHN

          I disconnected his controls.  He only

          thinks he's flying.

Chuck settles into his seat.

                     CHUCK

          You're on your way home, Al?

Al has an Australian accent.

                     AL

          Right.  Down home, down under.

                     CHUCK

          We're on time, right?

                     AL

          On time, Chuck.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT - HOURS LATER

Settled into the jump seat, Chuck finishes up his notes on

his PowerBook and begins his flight ritual.

He puts in his ear plugs and takes out his Valium.  He

swallows one, then thinks, and swallows two more.  Then he

turns on his Walkman to the Rolling Stones, puts the mask

over his eyes, and, as usual, goes to sleep.

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

The plane is SHAKING badly.  HEAR frantic, garbled radio

talk.  Chuck stirs, struggles to his feet, drowsy and

drugged.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV

Everything is hazy, out of focus, as it was in his earlier

drugged condition.  But this is real haze.  SMOKE.  And the

cabin also TWISTS and TILTS.

Chuck tries to steady himself against the wall.  This is

nightmarish.  Is this really happening?

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV - COCKPIT

The pilots wrestle with the controls.  They have their life

jackets on.  John glances back at Chuck, his face floating in

a cloud of fear.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck struggles to put on his life jacket.  The plane is

VIBRATING VIOLENTLY.  He can't get the straps straight.  He

is KNOCKED against one wall, then another, then to the floor.

Chuck tries to blow on the mouth tubes for his life jacket.

Can't do it!  Puff.  Puff.  Shit!  John motions frantically

for Chuck to pull on the automatic inflators on his jacket.

Chuck fumbles for them.

Huge palettes shift and groan, one BREAKS FREE, banging

violently against the side of the plane, spilling out its

boxes.  Then it swings and KNOCKS Chuck on the head!  He goes

down!

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER

A CONTROLLER mans the global operations desk.  His SUPERVISOR

stands behind him, sipping some coffee.  The mood is eerily

calm.  An assistant moves Plane Locator Cards on a giant

board.

                     CONTROLLER

          Jumbo 14 is overdue in Sector K.

                     SUPERVISOR

          Where are they?

Another CONTROLLER tracks a giant computer screen.

                     CONTROLLER 2

          Somewhere east of Port Moresby.  Guam is

          getting a signal but no location.  Maybe

          the GPS is out.

The signal flashes, but is strangely still compared to the

others, which are moving.

EXT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

The giant plane PLUMMETS down from the sky.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck is semi-conscious and bleeding from the head.  John

pulls the inflators on Chuck's life jacket, which fills with

a WHOOSH!, sending Chuck's arms out to the sides.  Al

struggles with the LIFE RAFT.  It's all blurred, frantic,

terrifying.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER

The plane hits the ocean with a CRASH and a WAVE of water.

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER

The Controller is speaking mechanically into the microphone.

                     CONTROLLER

          Guam, I need a fix on Jumbo 14.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT

Shrouded with fog and surrounded by debris, the tail of the

big plane slowly SINKS beneath the angry, storm-driven waves.

EXT.  PACIFIC - DAY

A life raft is tossed on dark, storm-driven seas.  Inside it,

semi-conscious, Chuck hangs on.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT

We catch glimpses of the yellow lift raft in the dark as the

storm continues.

EXT.  BEACH - EARLY MORNING

The storm has ended.  Waves lap gently on a beach cut like a

scallop out of a rocky shore.  On the beach we see scattered

FEDEX BOXES.  And we see, face-down, half-buried in sand, a

MAN IN A SUIT and a life jacket.

Chuck.

The tide gently rocks him, laps at his face.  He chokes.

Slowly he gets to his knees.  Vomits seawater, big heaves.

He rolls over, sits down.  Dazed.  Still confused.  Where am

I?  What happened?

Chuck's first instinct is to check the time.  He looks at his

watch, taps it in frustration.

Then he looks around, and we look with him.

CHUCK'S POV - BEACH

The fog has thinned.  We can see palm groves and mangrove

thickets leading back into a thickly wooded valley climbing

up a steep, rocky hillside.  The rocks on the opposite point

end in a barren ridge.  Clouds hide the top of the hill.

ON CHUCK

as he takes in his surroundings.  He licks his lips.  He's

thirsty.  But something he sees is even more important.  We

stay with him as he WALKS.  He comes to a FEDEX PACKAGE in

the sand, picks it up, brushes off the sand, walks farther.

He picks up another package.

EXT.  BEACH - WIDE

Chuck walks down the beach, picking up FedEx packages,

leaving a trail of footprints in the sand.  Ahead of him we

notice a package decorated with ANGEL WINGS.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT MORNING

Chuck has made a neat stack of FedEx boxes under some palm

trees at the rim of the beach.  He examines the Angel Wing

drawing with passing curiosity, then puts it on the stack.

Chuck takes off his life jacket, sits down in the shade,

makes himself comfortable, and waits.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck is still waiting.  He's a systems man, and the system

isn't working.

                     CHUCK

          All right, guys.  I'm here.  Check the

          GPS, get moving.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

The full moon shines a ghostly light on the beach.  Trees

cast moon-shadows on the sand.  Chuck seems very, very alone.

We HEAR from the dark thickets a STRANGE NOISE.  Rustling in

the leaves.  Something crashing in the trees, or is it a

wave?  A jolt of adrenaline courses through Chuck's body.  He

lurches to his feet.

We HEAR the noises again.  Chuck edges toward the rocks at

the barb of the hook.  Keeping his eye on the thicket, he

bends down and picks up a stone.  His first weapon.

In the rocks he finds a piece of driftwood.  He picks it up

in his other hand.  He backs between two rocks and stands

facing the thicket, every sense alert.  A cloud passes over

the moon.  The shadow streaks across Chuck's anxious face.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

The morning TIDE is coming in.  We follow the tide as it laps

amidst the rocks and finds Chuck, staring out to sea.  The

empty sea.

                     CHUCK

          Where the fuck are you?

But now he is really thirsty.  We WALK with Chuck up the

beach.

Beneath the palms he sees a couple of coconuts.  He picks one

of them up and studies it.  It's heavy, almost the size of a

volleyball.  How to get in it?

He throws it down on a rock.  The coconut just bounces off.

He wedges the coconut between two rocks, then throws a rock

down on it.  It bounces off.  He throws down a bigger rock.

It smashes on the rocks and chips.  Chuck picks up the rock.

OW!  Where the rock had chipped the edge is sharp.  It cuts

him.

                     CHUCK

          Sonofabitch.

The blood stains the rock a bright red.  Chuck sucks on his

finger, then he gets an idea -- the same idea primitive man

first got when he discovered stone tools.

He picks up the rock, test the edge.  Sharp -- really sharp.

He throws another rock down, but it doesn't break.  He picks

up another rock and strikes the first one.  Then again,

harder.  And again.  A large flake shoots off.  This edge is

even sharper.

He has a knife.

OPENING THE COCONUT - SERIES OF SHOTS

Chuck uses the stone knife to saw at the coconut.  No luck.

Chuck clumsily sharpens a stick with the sharp rock.

Chuck brings the sharpened stick down hard on the coconut,

but the stick slides off, sending the coconut rolling away.

Chuck positions the stick, pointed end up, in a hole, then

SLAMS the coconut down hard on it.  Success!  The green nut

of the coconut splits.  The brown inner nut is free!  He

smashes the nut with a rock, but -- OW!  -- he hits his hand!

Chuck licks his fingers, but he is so thirsty there's no more

saliva.  He smashes again.  The shell breaks to smithereens.

Coconut milk splashes everywhere.

                     CHUCK

          That was smart, really smart.

Rotating a nut along its axis and carefully moving his

fingers out of the way, he SMASHES the nut again.  The shell

splits!  The precious liquid splashes out.  Left inside is a

swallow or two, which Chuck laps up eagerly.  The milky white

liquid dribbles down his face.

                     CHUCK

          Ahhh.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNRISE

Chuck squints at the ocean.  His sunburn is bad -- his lips

are cracked.  A stack of broken coconut shells is beside him.

No one's there -- again.

                     CHUCK

          Maybe the GPS malfunctioned.  That Korean

          airliner did.

Clouds scud in front of the sun.  Beyond the reef the waves

are high and churning.  Chuck can see them pound onto the

reef.

                     CHUCK

          Okay, do the math.  Maybe they know where

          you are within, say 500 miles.  That's a

          circle with an area of, uh, pi r squared.

          So, uh, 250,000 times three point one

          four, that's about 800,000 square miles.

          Three times the size of Texas.

This sinks in.  Then Chuck gets an idea.

                     CHUCK

          They could use a satellite.

But even that doesn't give him much hope.

                     CHUCK

          Say each satellite photo is 30 feet

          square, that's uh...fuck it...billions

          and billions of photos.

That sinks in.

                     CHUCK

          Aw, someone will come.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck sleeps by the coconuts.  The tide is coming in.  Chuck

stirs, gets up, staggers over to a palm tree to relieve

himself.

He stares idly out at the moonlight on the waves.  Then not

so idly.  Something's out there, something floating on the

tide.

                     CHUCK

          What the hell?

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck splashes into the gentle surf, reaches the dark object.

It's a body.  Chuck turns it over.  It's Al, one of the

pilots, his face gray and waterlogged and very dead.

                     CHUCK

          Oh Jesus.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck drags the body up on the beach and then collapses,

exhausted.  He sits by it, staring at it.

                     CHUCK

          I'm so sorry, Al.  So sorry.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING  

Chuck has almost finished a grave in the sand back of the

palm trees.  He's been digging with a piece of driftwood

sharpened with his stone knife.

He drags the body into the pit.  Stares down at it.  That

could be me.

                     CHUCK

          Got to cover Al up.

He wants to say more, can't.  He scoops some sand over the

body.

                     CHUCK

          Got to cover Al up.

He scoops in some more sand.  It's eerily like burying the

tropical fish in his back yard.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

With a rock Chuck hammers a crude driftwood marker into the

sand.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

As Chuck sits on the beach, he half-sings, half-talks "Yellow

Submarine" very quietly to himself.

                     CHUCK

          We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow

          submarine...

He looks over at the deep woods and down to the rocky point.

Comes to a decision.  He takes a drink of coconut, picks up

his club and a coconut, sticks the stone knife in his pants.

He's ready to go.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck climbs over the rocks and disappears out of sight.

He's still half-singing to himself.

                     CHUCK

          Yellow submarine.  We all live in a

          yellow submarine...

EXT.  ISLAND - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck's way is blocked by rocks and jungle.  He hesitates.

He picks up a rock and THROWS IT to scare away all those bad

things.  It crashes into the ferns and palm trees.  He takes

a step into the jungle.

EXT.  JUNGLE - MINUTES LATER

Chuck struggles through a dense thicket beneath a jungle

canopy.  Vines and creepers reach out toward him.  There is

no path, nothing to show him where to go.

EXT.  JUNGLE - HALF HOUR LATER

Chuck climbs through a tangle of vines and ferns.  He takes a

drink from the coconut he is carrying.  The last drink.

                     CHUCK

          Bad idea.  Should have saved some.

He throws away the husk.  He looks up, but the only sunlight

reaching him is dappled from the canopy above him.

EXT.  ISLAND - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck emerges onto a ridge that leads to a summit.  He climbs

across a rocky lava field covered with scrub lichen and low

ferns, soil dark as coffee beans, his way crossed by steep

gullies that cut like dark fingers into the lava.

The lava field narrows, forcing Chuck closer to the sea.  He

passes a series of CAVES, their mouths dark and mysterious

and scary.  He gives them a wide berth.

EXT.  ISLAND - CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

The land narrows to a ledge that stretches across a high

cliff perched over the ocean.  Beyond this rock bridge the

path smoothes out to a summit.

Chuck stares at the narrow bridge, then down at the waves

breaking on the rocks far below.  To get any view, he will

have to cross the bridge.  He's thirsty.  The late afternoon

sun is hot.

                     CHUCK

          Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did

          you enjoy the play?

Hugging the wall of the cliff, taking each step with great

caution, he sets out across the bridge.

EXT.  ISLAND - CLIFF

Step by step, Chuck negotiates the narrow bridge.  He reaches

a flume of polished basalt which cuts across the ledge like a

slide in a water park -- except this flume ends high above

the waves.  Chuck tries to step across it, can't quite, tries

one foot first, then the other.

                     CHUCK

          Shit!

He looks back, but that seems even scarier.

                     CHUCK

          Got to get there.  Got to see.  C'mon...

          c'mon.  Don't be such a wuss.  Be bold.

He looks down at the ocean beneath him, closes his eyes, and

jumps.  It's only a few feet, but he's breathing hard when he

lands on the other side.  He hugs the rocks, getting his

breath.

EXT.  ISLAND SUMMIT - SUNSET - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck looks to each point on the compass.  He is on an

ISLAND, small, inhospitable, without sign of habitation or

anything human.  On three sides the waves break against

steep, hostile cliffs.  A reef encloses the cove where he

came from.

                     CHUCK

          No way on.  No way off.

Chuck stares out to sea in every direction.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK

          This is bad.  Really, really bad.

The last rays of sun hit his face.  The ocean turns a deep

reddish gold.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

Going down is even scarier.  It's dusk and the light is flat

and gray.  Chuck stares at the ledge.

                     CHUCK

          Come on.  Crawl if you have to.

Chuck crawls on his hands and knees across the rock bridge.

EXT.  ROCKY SLOPE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck stumbles over the rocks.  The caves look ominous and

primal.

EXT.  EDGE OF JUNGLE - NIGHT

It's getting dark now.  The jungle seems impenetrable, the

dark wood of fable.  Chuck hesitates, then plunges into it.

EXT.  JUNGLE - NIGHT MINUTES LATER

The moon has just begun to rise, casting eerie light into the

jungle.  The shadows reach out to grab Chuck, then real

branches and vines tug at him.  He heads into thick

blackness.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck emerges around the rocks.  He reaches the stack of

familiar FedEx boxes -- Ahh, home!  He's breathing hard, from

both fear and exertion.

                     CHUCK

          Got to drink.  Got to drink something.

With his last strength he opens a coconut on the stick.  He

bangs hard on the shell and gulps down the milk.  He stares

at the stack of FedEx boxes.  What could be inside?  He

reaches out and touches one.

                     CHUCK

          They don't belong to you.

Responsibility gets the better of necessity, and he takes his

hand away.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

Face red from the sun, Chuck hacks at a palm frond with his

stone knife.  He saws the palm frond off near the base,

leaving it about a foot long.

                     CHUCK

          Got to have shade.  Got to have a hat.

He ties the loose fibers into a sort of circle, then sets it

upon his head.  It looks amazingly like some sort of

primitive cap.

He grabs a couple of FedEx boxes and heads for the beach.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck finishes the P on H E L P, which he has spelled out

with the FedEx boxes on the beach.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck scrambles down a ravine.  He kneels down and feels the

ground.  It is dry, completely dry.

EXT.  LAVA SLOPE - DAY

Chuck traverses the slope, determined to find water.

A FLAT ROCK - LATER

With a puddle of dirty water trapped in a tiny hollow.

Suddenly Chuck flops down into frame.  He tries to scoop up

some water in his hands, but he just splashes it around.  He

licks his fingers.  Then he gets down on his stomach and laps

up the water with his tongue.  Like an animal.

In the bottom of the small depression is some fine mud.  He

rubs it on his reddened face and across his burned lips.

                     CHUCK

          Oh, God.  Thank you.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies in darkness, his eyes reflecting the moon.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck is drenched in sweat.  He is at the bottom of a hole

six feet deep.  He takes one last dig with the flat stick,

then licks the moist clay that sticks to it.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck breaks open another coconut and gulps down the milky

liquid.  With a stone knife he digs in the shell for some of

the meat, but it's dry and chewy and fibrous.  He spits it

out, then lies back on the sand and stares at the first

stars.  Half sings to himself.

                     CHUCK

          You deserve a break today...

He is desperately thirsty.  Hunger gnaws at him.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY - LATER

Holding a sharpened stick, Chuck wades in the shallows at low

tide, looking for fish.  It's difficult to keep his balance.

Suddenly a shadow flashes by, glinting in the morning

sunlight.  Chuck hurls the spear, which ricochets off the

water and floats away.

Chuck plunges into the water after the fish with his bare

hands.  The fish reverses direction.  Chuck leaps after it

and goes under.  He comes up spluttering, on his hands and

knees in the shallows.

Suddenly a whole school of fish swims by him, moving in

unison, like one creature, splitting around Chuck like

mercury.  He grabs at them desperately.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK

          Damn fish!

On some rocks he sees clusters of limpets.  He takes a rock

and tries to dislodge one, but it smashes into a soggy mess.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Discouraged, he sits down on the beach and gets his breath.

Idly, Chuck takes out his wallet.  The money is soaked.  He

lays it out to dry.  He finds a PHOTOGRAPH OF KELLY, soaked

and mushy.

He tries to smooth it out.  For a moment he is overcome.  His

face tightens, his eyes get moist.  He stares out to sea.

                     CHUCK

          Wait a minute.  Wait just a minute.

He picks up his wallet again and takes out a credit card.

EXT.  BEACH - MINUTES LATER

Chuck wades in the water, stops by a rock covered with

limpets.  He uses a CREDIT CARD to scrape off a limpet.

                     CHUCK

          Don't leave home without it.

With his finger, he prods around in the mucous-like meat,

then tilts up the shell and we see the gooey gray stuff slide

off the shell into his mouth.

                     CHUCK

          Yuck.

He starts to spit it out.  Tries to make himself like it.

                     CHUCK

          Yumm.

And he swallow it.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck sits in the shade of a palm tree surrounded by a pile

of smashed coconut husks and a stack of limpet shells.  He

checks his watch for a moment.

                     CHUCK

          Got to get this fixed.

But what's the point?  Everything that was so valuable before

is useless now.

EXT.  JUNGLE - LATER

Chuck digs yet another hole.  He chants to himself, almost

delusionally.

                     CHUCK

          Water, water, everywhere, water, water

          everywhere...

Covered in sweat, desperate and exhausted, he throws down his

wooden spade.

                     CHUCK

          Where's the water on this fucking island?

He lies on his back, breathing hard.  Pulls his hat over his

eyes.

                     CHUCK

          Just rest a minute.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck is lying in the hole.  We find his feet.  Slowly water

is oozing out of the clay, a puddle is building around his

toes.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck's eyes snap awake.  He looks down at his feet.  There's

a pool of muddy water there.  He dips his hand in it, touches

a finger to his lips to be sure he's not dreaming.

He grabs his sharpened stone, begins to attack the clay.

                     CHUCK

          Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck carefully makes marks on a palm tree with his rock

knife.  One for each day.  Very neat.  Very precise.  Very

Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          Let's see, I waited two days.

               (makes marks)

          Then I buried Al.

               (slowly makes another mark)

          Al.  You never made it home, buddy.  Then

          American Express got me those clam

          things...

               (makes another mark)

          I dug all those damn holes, the clouds

          over the moon...

               (makes more marks)

          And today, the historic discovery of H,

          Two, Oh.

               (makes a tenth mark and

                underlines it)

          Ten days.  Shit.

For a moment, he feels the weight of his isolation.  Then he

allows himself a deep breath.  There is order now, after all.

Time is under control.

EXT.  CLIFF - DAY

Very carefully, but standing this time, Chuck makes his way

across the ledge.

EXT.  SUMMIT - DAY

He emerges on the top, takes a drink from a hand-made

canteen, and looks in all directions.  Again, he sees nothing

but ocean.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

He resumes his efforts at fishing.  A shape scuttles raggedly

beneath him.

                     CHUCK

          A crab, it's a crab.

He freezes, holding his spear motionless.  Then he jabs at

the crab -- misses!  The crab scurries away toward the rocks.

                     CHUCK

          Dammit!

Chuck splashes after it, stabbing as he goes, falling,

getting up, stabbing again.

Suddenly one stab feels different.  Chuck carefully lifts up

the spear.  On the end is a squirming crab.

                     CHUCK

          I did it.  I did it!

He walks carefully with it to the beach.  Lowering the spear,

he lets the crab slip off.  It darts toward the water.  Chuck

heads it off, trying to avoid the snapping claws.

He kicks it back toward the beach, then slams a rock down on

it.  He twists off a crab claw, expecting to see flaky white

meat.  But a crab has an exoskeleton.  The flesh simply pours

out, like mucous.

                     CHUCK

          Jesus.

This is too much.  He needs the next step, from the raw to

the cooked.  The crucial next step from primitive man to the

beginnings of civilization.

EXT.  PALM GROVE SERIES OF SHOTS - TRYING TO MAKE FIRE

Chuck rubs two sticks together.  Nothing.

Chuck positions a makeshift drill in a hole he has scooped

out in a piece of driftwood.  He spins the drill with great

effort.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK

          Stupid fucking thing!

He quits, exhausted.  He looks at his hands.  They are raw

and blistered.  He feels like Job.

                     CHUCK

          I don't know what I did, God, but

          whatever is was, I am really, really

          sorry.  You hear me?  Really sorry.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck emerges from the jungle and walks to the edge of the

ocean.  He dips his blistered hands into the sea water, then

looks over at the FedEx boxes that spell out H E L P.

                     CHUCK

          Don't have a choice, do I?

He walks over and picks a few boxes up from the P.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

With his stone knife and spear to help him.  Chuck begins to

open the FedEx boxes.  Chuck rips open the end of one box and

shakes it.  Out tumble some videotapes.  Chuck looks at them:

what good are they?

Chuck tears another box open.  Out slide some legal papers

covered with Post-its.

In quick cuts, we see him dump out computer memory boards,

some designer dresses, flowers, a pair of roller blades, a

script with a red cover -- which he never reads.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

By now he has taken all the boxes in the P.  Only H E L

remains.  He pauses to let the irony of that sink in, then

collects more boxes.  He is even more exhausted.

EXT.  PALM GROVE

Two boxes remain.  One is the box with Angel Wings.  Chuck

sets it aside.  He opens the other box.  Out tumbles a

DOCTOR'S BAG.  Chuck can't believe it.  He opens the bag.

It's full of great stuff.  Medicine.  A scalpel.  A saw.

                     CHUCK

          Okay.  Okay now.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - LATER

Hands bandaged, Chuck tries to strike a spark on the roller

blade wheel housing.  Tries over and over.  Nothing.

He takes a long drink from his canteen, and flinches.  His

tooth is starting to hurt.  He fishes some Tylenol out of the

surgeon's bag and takes two.

EXT.  OTHER SIDE OF ISLAND - DAY

Chuck picks some berries and gingerly tries them.  They're

not bad.  He eats more.  Then more.  What a relief.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies on his palm fronds, groaning and holding his

stomach.  He drags himself to his knees, crawls a few feet,

and throws up in great, violent heaves.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Still looking a little green, Chuck marks another day on his

tree calendar.

EXT.  SUMMIT

He stares out to sea.  Nothing.

EXT.  WELL - DAY

Chuck lies on his belly and drinks from the well, which has

filled with water.  Then he washes his face and splashes

water over his neck.  The surface of the well stills,

bringing CHUCK'S REFLECTION into focus.  He stares at

himself.

Very carefully Chuck shaves with the surgeon's scalpel.

Chuck checks out his new appearance in the water.  Much

better.  A clean start now.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

He sits in front of his failed efforts to make fire.

                     CHUCK

          You're not getting it hot enough.  Got to

          hold the heat.  Got to hold the heat.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck carefully shaves some tinder.  Puts it under a piece of

bamboo split lengthwise with a notch cut across it.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck uses a bamboo stick to try to make friction in the

split half of the bamboo.  He saws back and forth with all

his might, pressing it down in the groove.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck gives one last saw with his bamboo and stops, utterly

defeated.  It's all too much.

                     CHUCK

          Sonofabitch!

He starts to rub again.  He breathes hard, sweat pours off

his face.  He is really going for it, what the hell!  A tiny

wisp of smoke appears!  Chuck saws with even more energy.

                     CHUCK

          Come on.  Come on.

The smoke increases.  Chuck rips away the bamboo, grabs the

nest of shavings, and blows on it frantically.  The smoke

flickers and dies.  Chuck can't believe it.

                     CHUCK

          No.  No.  No.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies in his bed of palm fronds, shivering.  He looks up

at the stars, which blaze furiously.

                     CHUCK

          That's the big dipper...Orion...or is

          that the Southern Cross...?  Kelly would

          know.

And he misses her so much.  A shower of meteors streaks

across the sky, as if the very heavens are raining down on

Chuck.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck readies his two sticks of bamboo again and begins

sawing with tremendous energy.  He smells something.  Is it

smoke?  He pulls off the log and looks eagerly at the nest of

tinder.  There's nothing there.

                     CHUCK

          Dammit!

He replaces the log and starts wearily to saw again.

TIME CUT

The sun has moved in the sky.  Chuck is still sawing.  Again

the smoke appears.  Again sweat pours from his face.  The

smoke increases.  He saws even harder.  His breath comes in

anguished gulps.  Smoke is curling up now.  Chuck tears away

the bamboo, picks up the nest of kindling, and blows on it

gently.  The smoke increases.

He blows some more.  A fragile crimson spark appears.

                     CHUCK

          Careful now, careful...

He gently places the nest of shavings in the kindling, then

blows on it with utmost care, as if he were holding life

itself.  He shreds his money and business cards over the tiny

flame.

Suddenly, the evening breeze lifts the nest out of the

kindling.  Desperate, Chuck grabs it.  Trying to shield it

with his body, he grabs some palm fronds and jams them into

the sand, trying to make a windbreak.  They rustle and shake

and blow over.

The wind blows harder.  Chuck jams some rocks in a circle to

make an eddy.  But the fire is out.  No words now, just a

loud, primal groan of pure despair.

And then, into his vision floats...smoke.

Chuck looks down.  A wisp of smoke curls up from the nest of

tinder!  Chuck blows on it gently.  Suddenly a tiny tongue of

flame flickers and catches on the kindling!

                     CHUCK

          Yes!  Yes!  Yes!

He feeds in some more twigs, more tinder.  The flames lick

out, catch, grow.

                     CHUCK

          If I ever forgot to thank you God, and I

          am sure I did, thank you now.

EXT.  BEACH - WIDE - NIGHT

The fire burns on the beach.  Chuck rushes about, piling on

driftwood.

EXT.  BEACH - CLOSER

Chuck darts into the jungle and returns dragging a huge log.

He throws it on the fire.  We see his face in the light of

the fire.  He is exultant.  He dances.  He sings at the top

of his lungs.  Papa-ooo-mow-mow!

Chuck throws another huge log on the fire.  Papa-papa-papa-

oooo!  The log splutters and explodes, sending up a huge

shower of sparks that climb and sparkle in the

darkness...until they merge with the stars.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - MORNING

Chuck makes a mark on the tree.  Around it he carves a flame

-- the day he mastered fire.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - LATER THAT MORNING

Chuck sharpens his spear with his stone knife.  Then he

sticks it in the flame to harden it, pulls it out, checks it,

scrapes some more.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck wades in the water with his spear.  Suddenly he stabs

it down.  A crab is on the end.

EXT.  BEACH - HALF HOUR LATER

Chuck removes a crab from out of the fire and breaks a

steaming crab claw.  Chuck takes a bite of the flaky white

meat.  Ahhh.  It tastes great.  He takes another bite -- and

flinches.

                     CHUCK

          Damn tooth!

He fumbles for his Tylenol and takes two pills.

EXT.  SUMMIT - SUNSET

Chuck stands on the summit, looking in all directions.  Then,

something on the island brings Chuck's eyes back from their

distant focus on the horizon.  From down on the beach,

beneath the palm grove, there curls a thin column of smoke.

Chuck lets a bit of pride creep into his face as he sees it.

He kneels down and begins to build a signal fire.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck curls up in his bed of palm fronds.  The fire burns.

Around it is a large stack of crab shells.  He stares into

the fire.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - MORNING

Chuck makes another mark on the tree.  He has circled the

tree with marks several times now.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Using a safety pin and some suturing thread, Chuck fishes

carefully.  Suddenly he jerks his hand back.  On the end is a

flopping fish.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

Chuck takes a cooked fish off the fire and mixes it with some

breadfruit.  He eats the soft mixture, chewing carefully, but

his tooth hurts even worse.  There are only a few Tylenol

tablets left.  He carefully cuts one in half and swallows it.

EXT.  SUMMIT - AFTERNOON

Chuck arrives with the wood for the night.  He stares out to

sea as usual, but this time he sees something different.

WHALES.  He sees whales.  Leaping.  Broaching.  Spouting.

Water pouring off fins and flukes.  Moving.  Going somewhere.

                     CHUCK

          Beautiful.  So beautiful.

Chuck stares at them, stares until the ocean darkens and he

can see them no more.  It's late now.

Leaving, he takes one last look, as he always does.  And

another remarkable sight greets his eyes.  There, on the

horizon, just below the evening star, is a...LIGHT.  He

stares at it, fixed.

                     CHUCK

          A star.  It's a star.

But then he stares at it really hard.

                     CHUCK

          It's a ship.

EXT.  WOODS - TREE - NEXT DAY

A tree shakes and moves, quivers...

                     CHUCK

          Timberrr!

..then slowly falls with a CRASH!

                     CHUCK

          I heard that...

Chuck holds his surgeon's saw over the stump.  He walks to

another tree and begins to saw his way into the trunk.

EXT.  BEACH - SERIES OF SHOTS

Up above the high tide line, Chuck lashes a log to a row of

five logs already joined with vines.

                     CHUCK

          No more waiting.  Take action.

Chuck sews several designer dresses together with needle and

suturing thread for a sail.

                     CHUCK

          That's right.  Take action.

He cuts bamboo for the mast.  He carves driftwood for an oar.

He fills gourds with water, stores breadfruit and coconut as

he sings "Fly Me to the Moon" to himself.

He ties the sail to the mast and extends it with a bamboo

boom lashed on with palm fiber and video tape.  He ties on

the doctor's kit and the FedEx box with the angel wings.

He examines his handiwork:  a finished raft.

He brings out his old life preserver and puts it on, then

grabs hold of one corner of the raft to pull it down to the

beach.  It doesn't budge.  He tries to pull it again.

Nothing.  He leans his back into it and pushes with his legs.

Nothing.  He collapses on the beach, his breath coming in

heaves.

                     CHUCK

          How could I be so stupid?

He bangs himself on the head, over and over.

                     CHUCK

          Stupid, stupid, stupid.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - NIGHT

Chuck throws new firewood on the dwindling fire.  It comes

back to life.  Meteors streak again across the sky.  He

stares at the indifferent stars.  The moon is almost full.

Shadows of palm trees sway on the sand.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck stands by the edge of the water, which shimmers in the

reflected light of the fire.  A wave come in, licks at his

toes.  Lifts up a coconut husk, sweeps it gently out.  Chuck

watches, gets an idea.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

He begins to dig in the sand by the raft.  He grabs the oar

and digs faster, making a trench up to where the raft is.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

The rising tide floods water into the trench.  Chuck rocks

the raft back and forth.  It floats!  As the wave recedes, it

takes the raft with it.  Chuck has to run beside it.

CHUCK TRYING TO ESCAPE - MONTAGE

Over and over, we see Chuck capsize at the reef.  The first

time he has a bandage on his leg.  He tries everything --

different rafts, different approaches, but each time the

ocean spits him back.

EXT.  LAGOON - DAY

Defeated and utterly exhausted, Chuck swims back from his

latest failure.  He wades back ashore with the FedEx box and

throws it on the ground by the palm tree.  He has tried so

hard to escape, so incredibly hard, done everything humanly

possible and beyond.  He rips off his life preserver, throws

it into the underbrush, then collapses on the beach.

                     CHUCK

          You're too low in the water.  Too damn

          low.

Chuck's shoulders begin to shake, as he is racked with deep

sobs of despair.

And then he throws his head back and lets forth, from deep

inside himself, a SCREAM of rage and anger and pain.  The

Scream pierces the indifferent natural sounds of the island,

the rustling of the breeze, the lulling rhythm of the waves.

It is powerful, disturbing, primal.

The breeze picks up.  Behind Chuck, the palm trees begin to

sway.  The tide is reaching up toward the beach.  The waves

crash louder.  The palm trees sway even more.

Chuck picks up some wet sand and rubs it on his body.

                     CHUCK

          Dust thou art -- that's for damned sure

          -- and unto dust shalt thou return.

A few DROPS OF RAIN begin to fall, splashing on Chuck and

sizzling in the fire.

Chuck looks up:  clouds have obscured the sun.  The wind

blows harder.  The rain falls harder, streaking the sand

Chuck had rubbed on his body.  STEAM sizzles out of the fire.

Chuck looks up, disbelieving.  The bottom falls out of the

heavens -- monsoon rain, more rain than you have ever seen

before.  A long wave rolls up, its frothy fingers reaching

for the fire.

Forget the raft!  Forget despair!  The fire could go out!

This is disaster!

                     CHUCK

          Shit!

He springs into action.  Chuck grabs an empty FedEx box.

With his wooden shovel he frantically SCOOPS SOME COALS out

of the fire as the rain HISSES and POUNDS at them.  He slides

the coals into the FedEx box, grabs some sticks of driftwood

and sets off on a run.

EXT.  WOODS - DAY

Chuck runs through the woods, slipping and stumbling.  Vines

grab at him.  The rain is so thick he can hardly see.

EXT.  WOODS - MINUTES LATER

Chuck bursts out of the woods into the lava field.  Smoke

pours out of the FedEx box.  The coals are about to burn

through!

EXT.  LAVA FIELD - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck stumbles up the slippery rocks, dragging the smoking

box.  His face is drenched, desperate.

EXT.  CAVE - DAY - MINUTES LATER

Chuck tumbles into the cave just as the coals burn through

the FedEx box.

Using the remains of the box, he desperately tries to scoot

the coals into a dry spot.

One by one, THE PRECIOUS COALS GO OUT.

Dripping water off his hands and face, he pushes a few

together with his fingers, ignoring the burns.

                     CHUCK

          Please...please...please...

He stomps on the driftwood and saws at it with his knife.  He

places this kindling on the coals.  They sputter and sizzle.

Barely catch.  He fans them with the box.  A tiny flicker

catches, then starts to grow.

                     CHUCK

          Firewood.  I need firewood.

SERIES OF SHOTS

On the beach, Chuck desperately gathers more firewood in the

driving monsoon.  He can barely see.  Driven by the storm,

the waves are licking at the palm grove.

He runs through the woods.  Branches whip at his face.  Roots

tear at his feet, tripping him.

He stumbles up the lava field.  Sliding.  Struggling.  Barely

able to breathe, the rain is so strong.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

He dumps the firewood on the floor of the cave.  But where

the fire had flickered, there is only a pile of wet black

ashes.

THE FIRE IS OUT.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck lies on the floor of the cave, shivering in the

darkness as the rain falls.  His fire is out, his tooth is

killing him, he can't escape.

EXT.  CAVE - NEXT DAY

Chuck emerges from the cave.  The rain has stopped.  This is

the absolute lowest.  His face reflects his pain and despair.

He's trapped.  It's hopeless.  Everything he tried to build

is gone.

EXT.  LEDGE - DAY

Chuck slowly walks out on the ledge.  He stares down at the

waves breaking on the jagged rocks far below.

He lets go one hand.  Then lets go the other.  He is barely

balanced.  It looks like a wisp of breeze would blow him

right off.  He slides one foot to the very lip of the

precipice.

Suddenly his foot slips!

Instinctively he turns into the cliff, grabs for a hold!  One

hand reaches for a nubbing of rock, slips off!  The other

closes, his fingers straining to hold him.

He breathes in deep gasps.  He had wanted to end it, come so

close.

                     CHUCK

          What the fuck are you doing?

His deepest instinct was to survive.  And that is what he is

going to do.

                     CHUCK

          Hang on.  Just hang on.

Slowly he pulls himself back from the edge.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck walks aimlessly down the beach, feeling the burden of

starting over.  The beach is littered with seaweed and

flotsam, bits of rope, plastic bottles.  He picks up a

plastic bottle.  That will come in handy.

The Chuck sees a SOCCER BALL with "Wilson" stamped on it in

big black letters.

He picks it up, holds it, tosses it up in the air.  Then he

kicks it, then kicks it again, then runs down the beach,

trying to kick it and keep it out of the water.  Feeling joy

again, even here.

INT.  CAVE - THAT DAY

The sun is setting on his darkened cave.  The soccer ball

sits in the corner by the black cold ashes of what was once

his fire.

Chuck carves a bit of coconut meat, takes a bite and winces

as the meat hits his sore tooth.  He tosses the shell on a

small new pile of shells.

Chuck shakes out the last half Tylenol tablet.  He puts the

tablet in his mouth, then takes a sip out of his coconut

canteen.  When the water hits his tooth that hurts too.

INT.  CAVE - MORNING

Chuck mixes a mash of breadfruit and coconut.  He tries to

pack the tooth with the mash, but it's so sensitive that even

this hurts.  He pounds the floor of the cave in frustration.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck holds a stone chisel and his hammer stone.  He

positions the chisel against his inflamed tooth.  But the

thought of what he is about to do is too frightening.  He

lowers the chisel.

                     CHUCK

          Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck tries to fill his mouth with sea water.  The pain is so

great his eyes water.

                     CHUCK

          Whoo, pig.  Sooey!

He falls back in the water and floats there, looking up at

the sky.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Determined, Chuck hold the stone chisel again.  He raises it

slowly to his mouth and picks up the hammer stone.

                     CHUCK

          No pain, no gain.

He brings the hammer down hard on the chisel!  The screen

goes BLACK as Chuck's SCREAM continues UNDER.

FADE IN:

EXT.  OCEAN - SUNRISE - THREE YEARS LATER

The sky takes on the first colors of the day.  The ocean is

still dark, but a few waves catch the first light.  The

sunrise touches the summit, moves down the cliff, then lights

the cove.  On the screen superimpose:

                     "1000 DAYS LATER"

REFLECTION - WATER

A spear shimmers in the calm morning water.  Attached to the

spear is a man, standing completely still.

ON CHUCK

We move up out of the reflection to the real man.  His legs

are scarred.  The remnants of a dress wrap around his middle.

A stone knife on a neatly mounted haft is stuck in a belt

made of videotape and woven fiber.  Necklaces of shark's

teeth and shells hang from his neck.  His hair is long.  A

coconut frond hat is on his head.

The hand wrapped around the spear is scarred and brown as a

berry.  It holds the spear perfectly still.  The watch is

gone.

We come around slowly until we see Chuck's face.  The eyes

say it all.  They stare out with a survivor's intensity,

staring at the water, unblinking.  This is the man who used

to splash futilely about in the water trying to fish.

This is the FedEx man who was plugged into the tumult of

activity and energy, surrounded by technology and human

activity at its most intense, devoted to making seconds

count.  Now he is utterly alone, and utterly still.

And now he has all the time in the world.

Suddenly, without an once of wasted motion, he shoots the

spear forward at a low angle.  It quivers, stuck on the

bottom.  He pulls it out with a practiced twist.  On the end

is a struggling fish.

But this isn't a thrill anymore.  It's another day at the

office.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck makes a mark on a palm tree.  He has completely covered

three other trees with marks.  It sinks in how long he has

been here.

EXT.  JUNGLE - LATER

Chuck carries the fish back from the beach.  Now there is a

well-worn trail.

INT.  CAVE - THAT AFTERNOON

Chuck enters with the fish.  We are greeted with the well-

ordered lair of a primitive stone-age man.

Clam shell spirals weave in and out around the fire hole.

Strips of eel jerky and fish hang drying from racks.

Tools are lined up neatly:  digging sticks, stone hammers and

saws, spears neatly hafted onto shafts, drills, awls.  Bits

and pieces of feathers, skins, bones, rags, leaves -- are all

neatly arranged.  Strings and cords hang from hooks.  Coconut

bowls and cooking rocks form a small kitchen.  A raincoat and

rain-hat woven of palm fronds is neatly draped over a frame.

Evocative pieces of driftwood decorate the room.  A wind

chime of obsidian flakes sways gently.  The watch hangs on a

stick.

The Angel Box has the place of honor on one side.  On the

other side the Wilson soccer ball rests on a throne of rocks.

Seaweed has been placed on the ball as hair.  Clam shells

have been stuck on for eyes, other shells form a mouth.  A

tube shell and conch form a pipe.

INT.  CAVE - FIRE - NIGHT

The fish are being smoke under a palm frond.  Eel skins hang

from sticks, roasting.  Chuck sits by the fire, hafting a

stone knife onto a wooden haft.

He ties some fiber to a stick, then braids it into string,

using both hands and his mouth for the three strands.

He ties the string tightly around the shaft.  He does his

work automatically.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck eats some fish and some mashed breadfruit.  He chews

each bite, his eyes in distant focus.  The firelight flickers

on his face.

EXT.  CLIFF - SUNRISE

Chuck carries firewood up to the summit.  He mechanically

adds wood to the fire.  As he does so, something out to sea

catches his eye.  He stops and stands up.

CHUCK'S POV - WHALES

WHALES broach out past the rocky point.  Spouts of water

shoot into the air.

ON CHUCK

As he watches them, a light comes back into his eyes.  He

grins.  There's a big gap where his teeth had been.  He turns

and strides down the hill.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

He heads across the rock bridge that once had so terrified

him, without losing stride.  It's second nature now.

INT.  CAVE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck enters the cave, picks up the ball and heads out.

EXT.  SUMMIT - EVENING

The signal fire burns.  A spectacular cloudy sunset lights up

the sky.  Chuck sits with Wilson on the summit, a bowl of

mashed breadfruit in one hand, a bowl of roasted eel skin in

another.

As Chuck watches the sunset unfold, watches the whales going

by in the darkened water, he takes some roasted eel chips,

dips them into the breadfruit paste, and offers one to

Wilson.  His voice is flat, monotonal.

                     CHUCK

          Chips?  Dip?

But Wilson declines.

                     CHUCK

          No?

He takes a big crunchy bite.

                     CHUCK

          Another fucking day in paradise.

PULL BACK as the sun goes down and Chuck reaches into the

bowl again and dips an eel skin chip in the dip.

EXT.  ROCKY LEDGE - NIGHT - LATER

Torch in one hand, Wilson in the other, Chuck walks across

the rocky ledge.  He passes the flume without even noticing.

Suddenly his shoe breaks!  It's sandal made of woven yucca

leaves.

He bends down and fixes it, then heads on down the ledge.

EXT.  LEDGE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck makes a casual leap, a leap he has made hundreds of

times, but this time the sandal comes loose.  It catches on a

rock, and CHUCK FALLS!

His hands are cut and bruised.  He tries to get up, can't.

Chuck sits back and examines his foot.  His fingers come back

covered with blood.  He reaches out to steady himself, and

leaves a HANDPRINT OF BLOOD on the rock.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck wraps his foot in bandages.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck's face is sweaty.  He looks down at his foot.  It is

red, swollen, infected.  He stands up, tries to put some

weight on it.  The pain is intense.

Chuck sticks the scalpel onto some coals to sterilize it.  He

holds it over his foot, takes a breath, then jabs in into the

wound.  The pain is intense.  Chuck passes out.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs, takes a drink, weakly tosses on another log, and

collapses back on the floor.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

Chuck wakes up, trembling, shaking, wet with sweat.  He

staggers up.  His shadow sways on the wall of the cave.  He

struggles to get another log on the fire.  He squints at his

only companion, the soccer ball.

                     CHUCK

          Help me, Wilson...

He collapses again.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs and squints his eyes.  He takes a drink of water.

He is feeling better.  He puts another log on the fire and

slowly begins to chew on some breadfruit and dried fish.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck slowly wades into the water, favoring his injured foot.

But something feels different.  He glances around.  What is

it?  And then he sees something, perhaps the worst possible

sight.

CHUCK'S POV - SAIL

A SAIL is moving steadily away from the island.

CHUCK

Throws down the spear and waves his arms.

                     CHUCK

          No!  Wait!  Come back!

He runs into the water and starts to swim.  He is so weak,

however, he can only make a few strokes.  He tries to yell as

he swims...

                     CHUCK

          Wait!  Wait!

Choking and weak, he turns back and drags himself up on the

beach.  In the b.g., the sail dwindles into the distance.

EXT.  SUMMIT - LATER

Chuck struggles to the top of the hill.  His fire has been

extinguished by the rain.  In the distance, far against the

horizon, he sees a sail -- or is it a cloud?  The whiteness

shimmers against the horizon.  Chuck squints.  Whatever it

was, it is gone.  Above him some contrails from jets mark the

sky.

Furious, he kicks his signal fire, scattering the burnt-out

coals.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck makes a new mark on his calendar tree.  Then he stops.

He CUTS an angry big line under the last mark, then hacks

away at the palm tree, slashing it with the stone knife,

ripping and marking through all his dates.  Finally the stone

knife breaks in two.  Chuck drops the broken half and catches

his breath.

EXT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck enters the cave.  No signal fires burn.  The island is

dark.

EXT.  SUMMIT - DAY

Chuck stands on the summit, staring out to sea.  Nothing, not

even a contrail, not even a whale spout.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

He is on his way down, suddenly he sees something and stops.

It's the HANDPRINT, the bloody handprint, his own handprint.

He slowly extends his hand and covers it, then pulls it away.

Traces it with his fingers.

INT.  CAVE - DAYS LATER

Chuck has the beginnings of an artist's studio.  Several

large clam shells hold paint.  A few egg shells are lined up.

Brushes have been made from roots and feathers.

Chuck covers his hand with paint and makes a handprint on the

wall of the cave.  He stands back and looks at it.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

He chews some berries, then holds his hand against the wall

of the cave and spits a dark blue mist around it.  When he

takes his hand away, the silhouette of his handprint remains.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

With the Angel Wing Box as a model, Chuck dips one of his

feather brushes in paint, and make a tentative line on the

wall of the cave.  He works hesitantly, rubs off a line,

tries again.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is finishing his first figure, a crude portrait of a

man -- himself?  Hard to tell.  He examines his work.  He

takes some shells and sticks them on as eyes.

Chuck picks up Wilson, thinks.

                     CHUCK

          You old airhead, you need a makeover.

He takes some charcoal out of his fire and draws eyebrows on

the ball.  Then, he mashes some berries, dips his fingers in

the juice, and makes lips.  He sticks shells on with clay for

eyes.  Then he looks at the face.

                     CHUCK

          Wilson, you bad!

He sits back and regards his companion.  He gestures around

the cave at the new paintings.

                     CHUCK

          What do you think?

But Wilson doesn't have an opinion.

                     CHUCK

          You don't share much, do you?

Idly Chuck takes down the Angel Box.

                     CHUCK

          I guess I know how Kelly felt.

For a long time he studies the wings on it.  With a stick, he

tries to draw a similar wing on the dusty floor of the cave.

Dissatisfied, he wipes it away.  He looks at the Angel Box.

Casually he reaches over and cuts it open with a stone knife.

Inside he finds two bottles of green salsa.  And a letter.

He reads over it.

                     CHUCK

          You said our life was a prison.  Dull.

          Boring.  Empty.  I can't begin to tell

          you how much that hurt.  I don't want to

          lose you.  I'm enclosing some salsa, the

          verde you like.  Use it on your sticky

          rice and think of home.  Then come home

          -- to me.  We'll find the spice in our

          lives again.  Together.  I love you.

          Always.  Bettina.

Visibly moved, Chuck puts down the letter.

                     CHUCK

          He never got it.

EXT.  ISLAND - DAY

The monsoon pours down.  Wind whips the palm trees.  The

waves are gray and angry, tearing at the beach.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

As the rain pours down outside, Chuck studies the sodden,

ruined photograph of Kelly, which is really only a gray mess.

                     CHUCK

          She's probably found someone else.  I

          would have.

Chuck dips his finger into one of the bowls of colors and

streaks it slowly across his face.  To exorcise his

loneliness, he will paint on the most expressive canvas there

is:  his own body.

CHUCK PAINTING HIMSELF - MONTAGE

Close-up on scarred fingers, as they paint on Chuck's face

and body.  Color on skin.  Tight dramatic shots of Chuck

being transformed.

Chuck takes white paint and covers his hand.  Then he presses

it into his chest and makes a handprint.  He draws a yellow

spiral on his leg, then takes red and makes jagged lightning

bolts on his chest on either side of the hand.

WATER

Shimmers in a gourd.  Chuck's face swims into focus.  It has

been painted white.  Looking at himself in the reflection, he

dots on blue stars with dark blue from squid ink.

EXT.  CAVE - LATER

The rains have stopped.  The island is washed bright and

green.

ON CHUCK

As he stands up in the cove.  His face is white with blue

stars.  Handprints circle his torso, flanked by red lightning

bolts.  Braided cords circle his biceps.  Bone necklaces hang

from his neck.  Feathers jut out from his hair.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck goes from tree to tree, making handprints along his

path.  Chuck was here.  This is his mark.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

He covers the calendar trees with handprints.  Then stops.

Sees something.  Eyes fixed on the beach, he walks toward the

shoreline.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck emerges from the palm trees, and now we see what he had

seen.

A FIFTY-FIVE GALLON OIL DRUM.

And another one.  TWO.  Chuck stares at the barrels.

                     CHUCK

          Hello.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck sits staring at the oil drums.  It's almost as if he is

hesitating to take advantage of them.  That he may not want,

really, to leave now.

Then his inner struggle ends.

                     CHUCK

          What the hell are you waiting for?

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Filled with determination, Chuck rolls a barrel up the beach.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Using a palm tree as a fulcrum, Chuck hauls hard on a rope

made of vines, pulling the barrel up off the beach.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck throws aside palm leaves, revealing...the remains of

his raft.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is drawing with a purpose now.  And we see what he is

working on.  The plans for a raft.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is making a list of what he needs.  He works intently.

                     CHUCK

          Canteens.  Sea anchor.  Got to weave

          rope.  Spears.  A sail.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck lashes the barrels onto the raft.  Checks the knots.

Lashes more rope.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

He sews dresses together with handmade fiber string.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

He weaves videotape together to form a sea anchor.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck digs a channel toward the raft.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

Chuck constructs a water collection device with some FedEx

boxes, some plastic weighted with a stone.  Explains it to

Wilson.

                     CHUCK

          Now I'm hoping that if this is airtight

          I'll get condensation down here, a cup or

          so a day.  If I'm careful it should be

          enough.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck writes on the wall.

                     CHUCK

          If I never return, know that here lived

          Chuck Noland for four years.  I drew

          these paintings.  I made these marks.

          And then I took my fate in my own hands

          and set forth to save myself, God

          willing.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck loads the raft, which rocks gently in the cove.  He has

a sail made of designer dresses sewn together with fiber

thread.  A sea anchor secured by videotape woven together

into a rope.  Plastic bottles filled with water.  A signal

kite made of FedEx paper.

Then comes the FedEx box with the angel wings.  Then Wilson.

                     CHUCK

          Wilson, my main man.  Time to go.

And he gently leads the raft into the lagoon.

                     CHUCK

          Wonder what odds Stan would give me on

          this.  I'd say 90-10.  Against.

He jumps onto the raft, begins to paddle out toward where the

surf crashes onto the reef.

EXT.  LAGOON - DAY

Waves break against the reef.  With his paddles Chuck

maneuvers the raft toward the cut in the reef.  Boom!  The

wave crashes, the water surges through the cut, then recedes

with a whoosh.

Chuck watches, times the waves, paddles like mad.  He's

committed.  SCRAPE goes the first barrel, then the second,

riding the receding wave.  He's out!

But the next wave is already surging forward.  It smashes the

raft against the reef!  Coconuts and foodstuffs hurtle off

the raft!

The barrels cushion the impact.  The raft tilts, spins, but

stays outside the reef!  The ropes holding the jugs of water

break!  The water sweeps overboard!

The wave recedes again.  Chuck recovers, paddles with all his

strength, and then he's clear of the breakers!

For a long moment he floats on the rollers, getting his

breath.

The water jugs float away, carried by the waves back into the

lagoon.  Chuck could go back and get them.  If he were being

prudent, he definitely would.

But he's out.  He might never get back out again.

He stares at the lagoon and the receding water jugs.  Then he

stares at the island.  Goodbye to all that.

                     CHUCK

          Wilson, we're out of here.

He turns and begins raising the sail.

EXT.  OCEAN - WIDE - MINUTES LATER

Powered by its multicolored makeshift sail, trailing its

gently flapping signal kite of FedEx paper, the raft slowly

moves away from the island, out toward the open ocean.

And we pull back until the ocean swallows the tiny raft and

then we TILT DOWN AND...

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - FOUR WEEKS LATER

The ocean again, low.  The raft floats into frame.  A trace

of a breeze flaps the signal kite, which barely stays aloft,

its rope frayed and tattered.  The still is set up in the

middle, plastic with a rock weighting down the center.

Chuck is gaunt, his clothes rotted.

He lies looking over the side of the raft, spear in one hand,

staring intently at the water.

Dorados swim like specters, flashing and darting.  Chuck

stabs with his spear.  Stabs again.

                     CHUCK

          Slow down, damn you!

Exhausted, he sinks back to the raft.  Two Dorados leap into

the air ahead of him.

Chuck tries to stare again into the water.  He spots another

fish, a flash of silver under the surface.

Chuck struggles to his feet, raises his spear.  SPLAT!

Something strikes him in the chest, almost knocking him into

the water.

On the raft we see flashes of silver and green and blue.  A

FLYING FISH.  Chuck dives at it, catches it, loses it.

                     CHUCK

          Catch it catch it catch it --

He catches it again just as it almost flops over the side.

EXT.  RAFT - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck sucks the juice out of the head.  He chews meat off the

tiny rib bones.

Chuck is in the stage of malnutrition, vitamin deprivation,

salt insufficiency, and exposure where the personality splits

and becomes external.  Like all castaways, he has

conversations with the two sides of himself.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Save some for tomorrow.

                     BADCHUCK

          Catch another fish tomorrow.

BadChuck wins.  Chuck keeps eating.  He stares up at the sun,

which beats down unmercifully.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

The raft drifts.  Chuck has taken down the sail and rigged it

as a canopy.  Drenched with sweat, Chuck lies on the raft,

trying to sleep.  He dabs at some sores that are ulcerating

his body and won't let him get comfortable.  Plus, there's a

chaffing, squeaking sound.  He looks around for the source.

We see it with him.  One of the ropes is frayed and about to

break.  If it does, the logs will come apart from the floats.

                     BADCHUCK

          Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

                     GOODCHUCK

          Stay calm, identify the problem.

          Problem, rope fraying.  Solution, fix

          rope.

                     BADCHUCK

          With what?  There's nothing to fix it

          with.  This rope comes undone, you're

          going to drown.

                     GOOD CHUCK

          Just get up and fix it.

                     BADCHUCK

          Too tired.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Get up.

                     BADCHUCK

          Feels so good to lie here.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Get up, damn you.

Chuck comes to his knees.  Then sinks back down.

                     BADCHUCK

          Can't.  Need water.

                     GOODCHUCK

          You've had today's water.

                     BADCHUCK

          Thirsty.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Come on, shape up, get going, you can do

          it.

                     BADCHUCK

          No water, no work.

Chuck tries another tack.  Sweet reason.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Okay look, I know you're tired, I know

          you're thirsty, but give it one more

          shot, you've just got to do a little

          more.

                     BADCHUCK

          Do too much, I'll die.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Do too little you'll die.

                     BADCHUCK

          Going to die anyway.

That stops GoodChuck for a moment.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Okay, look have an extra swallow.

He holds up the pathetic little jar with its few teaspoons of

murky water.

                     BADCHUCK

          No more water, you said.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Take it.

                     BADCHUCK

          No.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Take it, damn it.

                     BADCHUCK

          No.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Wilson, do you believe this?  Take the

          damn water.

Slowly Chuck gets up, lifts up the water jar, and takes a

swallow.  Then another.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Stop.  Enough.

Then another.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck works to braid a new rope.  He is focused,

concentrating as hard as he can, but everything is slow and

hard and he's weak and clumsy.  He tests the rope, but it

doesn't hold.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Think.  Got to use something else.

He gets an idea, starts to pull the signal kite in.

                     BADCHUCK

          If they can't see you, what's the point?

                     GOODCHUCK

          Survive today, that's the point.

The kite rope is much thinner than the rope he had used to

tie the logs, but it's all he has.  He ties the log with the

kite rope.  Exhausted, he lies back down.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT

The moon is full.  The waves cast off shadows on the ocean.

Chuck is staring into the sky, trying to find a star to

navigate by.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Polaris, where are you?  Maybe I'm too

          far south.

                     BADCHUCK

          You don't know where you are.  You missed

          the shipping lanes.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Moon's too bright.

We hear the fraying sound again.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY

Chuck saws at the outer log with his stone knife.  Across the

water comes a storm.  We can see it like a waterfall moving

toward us.

                     BADCHUCK

          You're putting off the inevitable.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I'm putting it off.

He looks at the deteriorating rope, at the rotting sail.

                     BADCHUCK

          That's what's happening to you.

Chuck pushes the outer log away, then takes the loose rope

and begins to lash it around the center logs.

                     BADCHUCK

          You're rotting away.

The raft is rocking.  The waves are stronger.  It's hard to

tie the logs together.

Rain falls like a sheet on Chuck.

                     BADCHUCK

          Get water!

                     GOODCHUCK

          Fix raft first.

                     BADCHUCK

          Water water water --

Chuck works frantically in the rain, trying to tie the rope.

Finally he does.

Then he scrambles for his water collecting funnel, struggles

to pull it up.  One corner is stuck and collapses.

Desperately he rights it, pulls the funnel up.

Drops begin to run down the sides and collect in the jar.

Soaked, Chuck stares at the water as it rises.

Then the rain stops.

We see the line of rain recede away from Chuck, spattering

the ocean.  But all around him the ocean is calm again.

And out comes the sun.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The raft floats on quiet seas.  The sky is blue, with few

high cirrus clouds so motionless they seem pasted on.

Chuck lies on the raft, sick and weak.

Suddenly, from the depths beside him, silently rises a huge

shape.

A SPERM WHALE, still mainly submerged.  The blow hole is near

Chuck, wet and pulsing like giant lips.  The eye of the whale

is only a few feet away.  It looks upon Chuck out of an

intelligence deep and alien.

He slowly comes to his knees and stares at it.

The blow hole opens and WHOOSH, out shoots a geyser of fine

spray which settles on Chuck in a mist.

The whale rises farther, dwarfing the raft.  From the whale

comes a deep sound like a foghorn.

Startled, Chuck jumps back, rocking the raft.  He catches

himself, slowly reaches out and touches the whale.

The whale blows again, drenching Chuck in more spray.

Chuck touches the whale again.

                     GOODCHUCK

          You like that?

Very slowly it drifts along with the raft.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Lost your mate?

We look right into the whale's eye.  Beneath the surface we

can see the huge jaws open and close.

                     GOODCHUCK

          You're beautiful.  Marry me.

                     BADCHUCK

          You idiot, if he dives, he'll capsize the

          raft.

Very slowly the whale moves ahead of the raft, its vast body

passing Chuck.

                     GOODCHUCK

          No, don't go.  Look, I've got fish.

Chuck rips a fillet off the line and throws it in front of

the whale, which ignores it.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Please don't dive.  Please.

The whale slowly sinks, then suddenly arches its huge back

and heads straight for the bottom.

For a moment, all that remains are the flukes, black and

vertical against the dark blue sky.  With one swoop, those

flukes could destroy Chuck and his raft.  But they don't do

anything except slowly sink.

Then it is gone.

We are on Chuck's face as he stares at where the whale had

been, the surface marked only by a ring of concentric ripples

that reach out and gently rock the raft.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Chuck checks the water.  It is green and full of floaties.

It looks awful.  He takes the jug, puts it to his mouth, and

drinks.  Instantly he throws up back into the jug, barely

keeps from dropping it.

                     BADCHUCK

          Look what you've done.

He dips his hand into the ocean, splashes some sea water on

his face, splutters it out, then licks his lips.  He is so

thirsty.

He looks at the water jug, full now with his own vomit, turns

away, begins to work on the sea anchor again.

But the work makes him even thirstier.  He looks at the jug

again.

Picks it up.  Takes a long drink.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The fish return.  Chuck gets up with his spear, then puts it

down.

                     BADCHUCK

          What are you doing?

                     GOODCHUCK

          Can't kill another one.  Can't.  Can't

          kill my friends anymore.

                     BADCHUCK

          You fucking bleeding heart, you kill or

          you die.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Why do they have to die for me?

                     BADCHUCK

          They'd eat you if they could.  They're

          laughing at you.  Listen.

Chuck listens.  Doesn't hear anything.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Got to eat.

Chuck picks up the spear, stabs it, misses.

Suddenly he has a fish on the end of the spear.  It

struggles, he scoops it onto the raft, brutally pounds on its

head, twists the stone knife into its spine.  The struggling

stops.

Chuck looks at the dead fish and begins to sob.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I am so sorry.

He cries uncontrollably.  As he cries he cuts off the head,

pulls out the eyeballs, and eats each one.  Then he sucks the

marrow out of the head.

Then takes the heart and eats that.  Then eats the liver.

As he is chewing, he cuts the meat into strips.

When he is done, he takes the backbone, breaks it, and sucks

on it.

Fish scales shine in his hair, blood covers his chest.

EXT.  OCEAN - NIGHT

The raft rocks gently.  Chuck looks up.  The strips of fish

are glowing.  So is the deck where he killed the fish.

He reaches out to touch the fish strips.  His hand is glowing

too.

                     CHUCK

          I'm an angel.

Suddenly he sees other lights.  A ship.  A ship is out there.

And he hears it, a humming in deep register.

He waves his hands.  He yells.

                     CHUCK

          Here!  Here!

His voice cracks, we can barely hear it over the ocean.

The lights move on.

                     CHUCK

          No...no...no...

His raft is rocked by the wake, rocked hard.  Chuck is thrown

into the water!

He comes to the surface, sputtering.  Where is the raft?

He looks one way, then another.  Darkness.

This is the worst.

He turns again in the water.  There, dimly, he can see the

glow from the fish he killed.  The glow saves his life.

He swims toward it.

He pulls himself back on the raft.

He lies there exhausted, the glow from the phosphorescence

casting a greenish light on his face.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Clouds are building up.  In the distance lightning flashes.

The clouds come closer.

Little bits of electricity jump off the mast.  Saint Elmos

fire jumps around Chuck's hand.

Fascinated, he holds out his hand.  The fire jumps from his

hand to the mast.

Suddenly lightning shoots from the sky and strikes the ocean!

A huge spout of water explodes like a depth charge.  The

CRACK is intense, then rolls away.

Chuck stares, then realizes the danger and throws himself

down on the raft.  Suddenly a wall of rain sweeps over him

and the ocean begins to roll.  The thunder is deafening.

Lightning flashes bursts through the rain.

                     CHUCK

          Sea anchor!  Let out the sea anchor!

Frantic, Chuck lets out the sea anchor as the raft scuds down

a huge wave.  The anchor catches, slowing the raft so that it

rides the wave down.

The waves come at him high as houses.  The raft rides up one

side, then plunges down the next.

All Chuck can do is hold on.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The storm has passed.  The raft floats on big dark rollers.

We hear the chirping and squeaking of dolphins.  They come

close to the raft.  Chuck watches them play.  Then realizes

they are chasing his fish.  They drive them along, into the

path of another dolphin, who darts in and rips into the

dorado, turning the water around the raft into churning,

bloody foam.

                     CHUCK

          Stop!

He takes his oar and begins beating the water.  The killing

continues.

                     CHUCK

          You fucking murderers!

Suddenly the water is still.  One dolphin sticks its head out

of the water and stares at Chuck, squeaking.

Another dolphin lifts its head up, then another.  They squeak

to each other, clearly communicating and talking about Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          I know you're talking about me!

He splashes the water with his oar.

They dive, then jump into the air, squeaking as they go.

                     CHUCK

               (very softly)

          Take me with you.

They're gone.

                     CHUCK

          Why me?  Why me, God?

He begins to laugh.

                     BADCHUCK

          Listen to this, Wilson.

               (deep voice: God)

          Because you piss me off.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Chuck tries to stretch with some simple yoga.  Each movement

takes forever.

He rolls over onto his stomach and tries to do a pushup.  He

can't.  Collapses onto the raft.

                     BADCHUCK

          You're falling apart.

Tries to do another pushup.  Can't.

                     BADCHUCK

          First you eat your fat, then you eat your

          muscle.

He rolls over.

                     BADCHUCK

          Then you eat your mind.

He looks at the ocean.  They're in a line of garbage, a thick

slick of debris dumped off of ships.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Roll on you deep and dark blue ocean

          roll.

He closes his eyes.  After a minute they come open.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I'm late, I'm late, for a very important

          date.

They slowly close again.

                     BADCHUCK

          I'm lost.  Goodbye.

                     GOODCHUCK

          No!

His eyes come open again.

                     BADCHUCK

          Look, just slip off the raft.  The ocean

          would feel so good, the water's so soft

          and warm.  Take a little swim.  Sleep.

                     GOODCHUCK

          You quitter you quitter you quitter.

                     BADCHUCK

          The sea is lovely, dark and deep.

                     GOODCHUCK

          But I have promises to keep.

               (rolls over)

          And miles to go before I sleep.

               (props himself up)

          And miles to go before I sleep.

               (purpose now)

          Got to fix the sea anchor.  Use the sail.

                     BADCHUCK

          Use the sail for a sea anchor and you

          won't move.

                     GOODCHUCK

          If I don't have a sea anchor I'll

          capsize.

                     BADCHUCK

          Die tomorrow or die today.

He hums Beethoven's fifth.  BA BA BA BUM.

                     BADCHUCK

          That's death knocking, knocking on your

          door.  Crazy little woman come knocking,

          knocking at my front door...

                     GOODCHUCK

          Grow up, stop being such a baby.  Other

          people get through a lot worse.

                     BADCHUCK

          Yeah, sure, what?

He hums to himself, begins to sing, Beatles.

                     BADCHUCK

          I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink...

He pulls in the loose sea anchor rope, which is covered with

barnacles.

He scrapes the barnacle off the rope into the water jug, then

sips it.

The sun is setting, huge rays shoot out across the sky.

Out of the empty ocean the Dorados suddenly appear, leaping

flashes of silver right by the raft.

One Dorado swims right by the raft, broadside.

Chuck looks at it, uncomprehending.  Then slowly reaches for

his spear.

                     GOODCHUCK

          What?  Are you sacrificing yourself for

          me?

Carefully he comes to his feet, then shoots the spear into

the fish.

Flapping and struggling, it lands on the deck.  Chuck pounces

on it.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER

He cuts it open.  The other Dorados ram the raft in fury,

like a lynch mob.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Damn it!  I had to do it!

The banging continues.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I'm sorry!

He concentrates on his work, then sits back on his heels in

amazement.  There's another fish inside.  He holds that fish

up, stares at it, then cuts it open.

There's a smaller fish inside it.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I know there's a moral here, God, but

          right now I'm just going to eat.

He pops out an eyeball, then another, and crunches them

between his teeth.

He takes the heart and liver, starts to eat, then stops.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Forgot to say grace.  Sorry Mom.

He struggles to remember.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts and

          Christ and the bounty about to receive,

          or something...amen.

He eats them.

EXT.  RAFT - NEXT MORNING

Chuck splashes sea water on his face.  Adjusts the water

still.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Please don't leak.  Please.

Chuck picks up the smallest fish.  It's half digested.  He

washes it in the ocean, trigger fish come up and nibble at

his fingers.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Don't look at me.  It was that Dorado.

He cuts the small fish and hangs it on the stays.

                     GOODCHUCK

          You know, Wilson, every now and then we

          should say thank you.  Thank you God.

                     BADCHUCK

          Thank you for fucking up my life.

Suddenly something bumps the raft.  Hard.  Then again.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Not again.

Fins cut the water.  SHARKS.  A big hammerhead bumps the

raft.  BadChuck hums the theme from "Jaws."  Chuck takes his

spear stabs at the shark.

                     BADCHUCK

          He's going to get you, going to get

          you...

Another one circles in, bumps the raft.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Get away from me!

The shark circles again, that big hammerhead like a

nightmare.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Get him get him get him.

He stabs at it with his spear.  He might as well have stabbed

concrete.  The shark circle, Chuck stabs again.

But the shark is gone.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Where are you?  Where are you?

Stabs again and again at the empty ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Stop!  You're using energy.  Move slowly.

          Be patient.

Chuck kneels, wavering, on the raft.  The ocean is calm.

Suddenly, BUMP.  The raft tilts.

Chuck hangs on.

Then a shark appears, just out of spear range.  Its lifeless

black eyes seem to stare right through Chuck.

If the Dorado was a gift from God, this is a message from

Hell.

Then the shark is gone.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck lies back on the raft.  He is humming.

                     BADCHUCK

          What are you smiling about?  They'll be

          back.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I'm dancing on the roof of the Peabody

          Hotel.  With Kelly.

He smiles at the thought.

                     GOODCHUCK

          The music ends.  We go back to the table.

          The waiters have brought dinner.  New

          York Strip with Bordelaise Sauce.

          Mushrooms in brown gravy.  Roasted

          potatoes with garlic and rosemary.  Green

          Beans with almonds.  Fresh biscuits and

          cornbread, dripping with butter.  A nice

          salad with ranch dressing.  A jumbo

          shrimp cocktail.

Thinks about that, it spoils the picture.

                     GOODCHUCK

          No shrimp.

               (then)

          We eat.

He closes his eyes.  This is the greatest fantasy.

                     GOODCHUCK

               (as the waiter)

          For dessert, we have pecan pie a la mode,

          we have a double chocolate cake with

          creme anglaise, we have a nice pear

          torte, fresh key lime pie, or perhaps if

          you care to wait a few minutes, a grand

          marnier souffle?

Chuck thinks over the options, thinking of each one.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Why, bring them all, bring them all.

He rolls over.  There, square in his vision, is a ship, its

form coming in and out of a low haze.

Chuck jumps to his feet.  Waves.  Screams.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Here!  Over here!

The ship moves on.  We can see the decks the rigging, the

vastness of it.

Chuck realizes he is naked.  Struggles to pull on the remains

of his pants finally holds them like a diaper with one hand

as he continues to wave.

On the ship no one is to be seen.  It is a spooky sight.

The big tanker moves on.

We are on Chuck's face.  Passed up again.

Then he realizes what is about to happen.  He throws out the

sea anchor.

He throws himself onto the raft and grips it as tight as he

can, wiggles his feet into the ropes.

                     CHUCK

          Oh, shiiiittt!

Then comes the wake of the ship.  It rocks the raft like a

piece of flotsam.  The raft rides high up on the wave, then

shoots down it, but the sea anchor holds, and the raft slows

and rides along with the wave.

And then the sea is calm again.

Slowly Chuck sinks to his knees.  His hand lets loose his

pants.

He lies down on the raft and imagines the conversation with

the ship's captain.

                     CHUCK

          Permission to come aboard, sir.

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN

          Permission granted.

                     CHUCK

          May I ask, where are you bound?

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN

          San Francisco.  And you?

                     CHUCK

          As it happens, I'm headed for Frisco

          myself.

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN

          Would you do us the honor of joining us?

          We're just sitting down at mess.  Pork

          chops and gravy, cranberries, baked

          potatoes with all the trimmings, fresh-

          baked bread, apple pie...

                     CHUCK

          No please, join me.  Some sundried fish

          strips, a few eyeballs, some gills to

          munch on.

The depression comes back again.

                     BADCHUCK

          They're never going to see you.  You're

          just another piece of trash in the ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK

          They're on autopilot.

                     BADCHUCK

          They're always on autopilot.  Or else

          it's night, or you're in the sun, or

          you're in the trough of a wave.  They'll

          never see you.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Damn it!  Don't be so negative!

Chuck picks up Wilson.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Wilson, what's your story?

He holds Wilson close to his chest.

                     BADCHUCK

          I float.  You sink.  End of story.

                     GOODCHUCK

          I'm serious.  I'm always going on about

          me, me, me.  Enough about me.  Your turn.

                     BADCHUCK

          It's a fucking soccer ball, you idiot.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Shut up.

He lies on the raft and holds Wilson close.

We move up until we see --

EXT.  OCEAN - AERIAL - EVENING

Chuck lying curled up on the raft, Wilson cradled in his

arms, and all around the vast empty ocean.

EXT.  OCEAN - NEXT MORNING

Chuck slowly wakes up.  Sets Wilson aside.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Don't shirk, don't procrastinate, don't

          be lazy.  We're okay today.  We're okay

          today.

And the other Chuck begins to laugh.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Shut up.

The laughter goes on.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Shut the fuck up!  I mean it.

He stands up and checks the horizon.

                     GOODCHUCK

          What's so damn funny?

                     BADCHUCK

          You are.

Suddenly Chuck sees something on the horizon.  A bank of

clouds.  A cone of -- land.

He squints, stares again.  The clouds part.  It looks like --

his island.

Chuck doesn't know whether to feel joy or despair.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Jesus.

                     BADCHUCK

          Look again, asshole.  It's a mirage.

Chuck squints.

                     GOODCHUCK

          It's real.

                     BADCHUCK

          Nothing out there but ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Let's get a second opinion.  Wilson?

          What do you see?

Chuck picks up the soccer ball, holds it up, and stares out

at...ocean.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck slowly writes on the sail.

                     CHUCK

          Chuck Noland.  Born October 8, 1958.

          Died -- pick a date -- July 11, 1998.

          And now the epitaph.  Met deadlines.

          Kept appointments.  Lost without a trace.

He sits back, looks at the mock headstone.

                     BADCHUCK

          What did it matter if FedEx was five

          minutes late one day?  The next day we

          just start over again.

                     GOODCHUCK

          It matters.  We do the best we can,

          that's all we have.

                     BADCHUCK

          Then we've just got shit.

He goes on writing.

                     CHUCK

          I am writing this to remind myself to

          live a better life.  If I am lost,

          perhaps you who find this will be

          instructed to live a better live

          yourself.  Live each day.  Love your

          children.  Don't take anyone for granted.

                     BADCHUCK

          Is that it?  Life is a fucking Disney

          movie?

The waves begin to grow, the ocean turns a slate gray.  Far

above him, great frigate birds circle.  Suddenly one dives on

a booby which has caught a fish.  The great frigate bird

swoops all around the booby until, panicked, it drops the

fish, which plummets toward the sea.

With a graceful dive, the huge bird grabs the fish and then

soars up on a thermal, high into the sky.

Lightning flashes back and forth across the horizon, which is

turning black and dark.  Thunder rolls.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT

The raft goes up and down huge waves.  Every few seconds

lightning flashes, illuminating the raft and Chuck holding

desperately to it, his eyes wild with fear.

EXT.  RAFT - MORNING

The waves continue.  Chuck holds on, his face pale.

                     BADCHUCK

          You can't make it.

                     GOODCHUCK

          Shut up.  I don't feel like dying today.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

The sky clears.  The waves are still big.  The fish are back.

And then come the sharks, cutting through the water.  Chuck

can't get up to get his spear, he just has to watch as blood

darkens the water.

And then the sharks are gone.

Chuck comes to his knees slowly, then a big wave hits.

Wilson is swept into the ocean!

For a moment Chuck is uncomprehending.  He watches as Wilson

slowly floats away.

                     CHUCK

          Please, no sharks.

Then he dives in to the water!  Swims frantically after

Wilson.

Wilson floats away from him.  He swims, but he's so weak.

Finally he gets to Wilson.  He reaches out, but only pushes

the ball farther away.

It bobs on the waves.  Chuck treads water, exhausted.

Where is the raft?

                     CHUCK

          Jesus.  Jesus.  Jesus.

Then he turns back the other way.  The raft has drifted by

him.  He can go after Wilson, or he can go after the raft.

                     CHUCK

          Shit!  Wilson!

He swims toward the raft, barely moving.  No matter how hard

he swims, the raft seems to recede from him.

Finally he reaches it, hangs on the side, breathing hard,

choking, crying.

He struggles to pull himself on board.

But he is weak, so weak.  He can't do it.

Summoning some primitive reserve of strength, he tries again.

This time he slides on.

He lies on the raft, panting.

Then with all his strength he pulls himself to his feet,

holds on to the mast, scans the ocean for Wilson.

                     CHUCK

          Wilson!

Nothing but waves.

This is too much.  Chuck starts to cry.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck takes a swallow of water, washes it around in his

mouth, then swallows.  With his wet tongue he licks his

cracked lips.

The sun breaks through the clouds.

With what strength he has left, Chuck raises the canopy,

fastens it.

He sits in the meager shade, his head between his knees.

Closes his eyes.  Just for a minute.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

A different sort of shadow crosses Chuck's face.  He opens

his eyes.

There, riding right beside his raft, is a ship, a huge rusty

tanker.  Someone shouts down in a language we don't

understand.

Chuck sits up, can't believe it.  Struggles to cover himself.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

Chuck is lifted up the rusted steel side of the boat in a

Jacob's ladder.

EXT.  SHIP - DAY - LATER

Chuck steps on board, can't support himself.

The crew gathers around.  None of them speak English, but

there is a spontaneous outburst of human connection.

One man brings some water.  Another a blanket.  Another some

warm tea.

Chuck sits there, shivering now.

                     CHUCK

          Thank you.  Oh thank you.

Deliriously happy.  Delirious.

INT.  U.S. NAVAL HOSPITAL - HAWAII

A cavernous hanger-sized ward brightly lit and filled with

row upon row of hospital beds, each with its table, side

chair, and lamp, each with a stainless steel bedpan and

neatly folded sheets and blankets stacked ready to use, and

each completely empty.

Except for one.

And on that bed we see Chuck, in a blue hospital gown.  An IV

drips into his arm.  He plays idly with the remote control of

the bed.  He raises the head, then the foot.  He pushes

another button and the knee rest bends the bed again.

A DOCTOR enters, carrying a thick chart.  Chuck gives him a

big manic grin.  Malcolm MacDowell in "A Clockwork Orange."

                     CHUCK

          My favorite doctor.  What's the verdict?

                     DOCTOR

          Under the circumstances your overall

          health is good.  Those salt water boils

          you picked up on the raft are ulcerated,

          but they're healing nicely.

He checks his blood work records.

                     DOCTOR

          Hemoglobin's 10.8 -- you're anemic,

          that's why we're giving you iron.

          Potassium's low -- we're giving you an

          electrolyte solution with your IV.

          Sodium's over 150, way too high.  You may

          experience swelling in your extremities

          as you rehydrate and discharge the salt.

          In spite of your dietary deficiencies

          there's no sign of mental deterioration.

Chuck has been trying not to laugh.  Now he can't stop

himself.

                     DOCTOR

          What's so funny.

Chuck can't seem to help laughing at everything.

                     CHUCK

          Sorry...sorry... Why do my joints still

          ache?

                     DOCTOR

          Dehydration.  Vitamin deficiency.

          Protein deficiency.  Any or all of the

          above.

                     CHUCK

          All I ate was fish.  That's solid

          protein.

                     DOCTOR

          Protein digestion is very costly in water

          usage.

                     CHUCK

          Which I didn't have.

                     DOCTOR

          And fish are very low in fat, which is

          energy inefficient.  So you're going to

          burn up your own cells no matter how much

          you eat.  Luckily you ate the eyes and

          pancreas, which contain some Vitamin C,

          so you didn't get scurvy.

Chuck laughs again.

                     CHUCK

          I am one lucky guy.

                     DOCTOR

          Your body chemistry and your exposure to

          the elements would normally lead to

          irritability, depression, anxiety,

          periods of self-reproach.  It's almost

          like schizophrenia.  Different sides of

          your personality might come to life,

          speak out, act out.

                     CHUCK

          But all that's behind me.  I'm fine now.

He starts to laugh again.

                     DOCTOR

          If you say you are.

                     CHUCK

          I most definitely say I am.

                     DOCTOR

          Doctor Hegel tells me he discussed the

          Vietnam POW syndrome with you.

Chuck stifles his laughter.

                     CHUCK

          Yes, yes he did.

                     DOCTOR

          You are aware of the potential

          disruptiveness on your loved ones when

          you return to your old life?

                     CHUCK

          Not to mention on me.

The laughter again.  Unsettling.

                     DOCTOR

          You sure you don't want some counseling?

Chuck gives his biggest smile.

                     CHUCK

          Doc, I'm not on the island.  I'm not on

          the raft.  I'm alive.  I'm so glad to be

          back, I can't tell you.  I just want out

          of here.

                     DOCTOR

          Well, when that IV runs out, you're

          through with us.  Just the dentist

          tomorrow.

INT.  HOSPITAL - NIGHT - LATER

Rolling his IV, Chuck walks very slowly out of the ward.

Every step is an effort.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

A small windowless room with only a desk and a phone, lit by

a fluorescent lamp.  Chuck is listening to the phone ring.

Kelly answers.

                     KELLY (V.O.)

          Hello.

Chuck is overcome for a moment, can't say a word.

                     KELLY (V.O.)

          Hello?  Hello?

For some reason he can't keep himself from laughing.  He

covers the mouthpiece and laughs.

And then we hear a dial tone, harsh, mechanical, final.

EXT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER

We can see Chuck inside, staring at the phone.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER

We hear a faint persistent hum.  Chuck looks around, trying

to locate the sound.  He looks up, focuses on the fluorescent

light, that background sound he can no longer tune out, then

picks up the phone again.

EXT.  PHONE CUBICLE

Stan answers the phone.

                     STAN (V.O.)

          Hello?

                     CHUCK

          Stan, it's Chuck...Chuck Noland...

The laughter again.

                     STAN (V.O.)

          Whoever you are, you are one sick fucker.

And again we hear the dial tone.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck's on the phone again.

                     CHUCK

          Two Valium and the Rolling Stones.  That

          ring a bell?

There's a long silence.  Then we hear Stan's voice.

                     STAN (V.O.)

          God damn!  God damn!  Chuck, it's you!

                     CHUCK

          It's me.

                     STAN (V.O.)

          You're fucking dead!

                     CHUCK

          I'm most definitely not dead.  And as I

          recall, you're the sick fucker.

Chuck begins to laugh, a little too loud, a little too

shrill.  He's on a high.

EXT.  HAWAII - BEACH RESTAURANT

A terrace by the ocean.  Tables filled with diners.  Food

being delivered by waiters.  So simple, eating.  So taken for

granted.

At one table sits Chuck, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and

shorts, with a half-dozen plates in front of him.  He

gestures to the waiter.  Bring me more.  It all tastes so

damned good.

Behind him is the ocean.  Chuck doesn't glance at it.

INT.  DENTIST - NEXT DAY

An attractive DENTAL TECHNICIAN with an Australian accent

cleans Chuck's teeth with an ultrasound device.  She's close,

very close.  Chuck looks up at her.  She looks really good.

She smiles at him, then touches the gap where he knocked out

his tooth.

                     TECHNICIAN

          You sure you don't want to have the

          implant done here?  We do quite good

          work.

Chuck shakes his head:  no.  She scrapes behind his front

teeth.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Hmmm, you do have such a lot of tarter

          behind these front incisors.  A little

          wider, please.

Chuck opens his mouth even further.  The technician talks on

in the self-absorbed way dental technicians sometimes do,

that constant babble of human contact which Chuck has not

heard for four years.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Anyway, so the second prosthetic foot

          worked better, but he still couldn't

          drive his new Cortina, it being a

          standard shift, if you follow me.

Chuck nods.  I follow you.

                     TECHNICIAN

          But would he hear of me driving him

          around?  Not on your bloody life.  Rinse

          please.

Chuck does.  Stan bursts into the room.

                     STAN

          Chuck!  God damn!

Chuck struggles out of the chair.

                     STAN

          God damn.  God damn.  God damn.

They are both almost overcome.  Stan holds Chuck by the

shoulders and looks at him.

                     STAN

          You're alive, you're fucking alive!

Chuck laughs, thrilled to see Stan.

                     CHUCK

          I beat the odds!

                     STAN

          You beat 'em to shit, pal!  Jesus!

                     TECHNICIAN

          I still need to floss you.

Stan notices the technician.

                     STAN

          Hello.

                     CHUCK

          This is Amber.  Her boyfriend lost his

          foot in a shark attack.

He says this with an absolute straight face, holding back the

laughter with great effort.  Instantly there's this

connection again between him and Stan.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Ex-boyfriend.

                     STAN

          Really.

And he and Chuck make eye contact and we see a glimpse of

their shared unspoken irony.

                     STAN

          Uh, there's somebody out here who wants

          to see you.

Chuck stares sharply at him.  Kelly?  Stan nods, but there's

something he wants to say.

                     STAN

          She thought you were dead.  We all did.

That's not all Stan wants to say.  But Chuck is limping out

the door.

INT.  DENTIST - WAITING ROOM

Typical dentist waiting room.  Chairs, tropical fish tanks,

magazines, a few waiting patients...and Kelly, looking

nervous.

Slowly and painfully Chuck enters.  He's quite a sight.  She

stands up.  There's a long moment where they look at each

other.

Then she comes into his arms.  Holds him tight.  She's part

laughing, part crying.

                     KELLY

          I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

                     CHUCK

          Hey...hey...it's okay!

Chuck is happy, he's still riding the high.

                     KELLY

          You're so thin.  Am I hurting you?

Well, maybe a little, but who cares?  He hasn't been hugged

or barely touched in so long.

                     CHUCK

          No...no...feels good...

She disengages, looks at him with that old smile.

                     KELLY

          Right back, you said you'd be right back.

                     CHUCK

          A few things came up.  Or went down.

He meets her gaze, looks her over with a smile.

                     CHUCK

          You look...wonderful.  I like your hair.

He notices the ring on her hand.

                     KELLY

          I got married.

                     CHUCK

          I thought you might have.

                     KELLY

          I would never --

                     CHUCK

          I know.

                     KELLY

          If I'd known you were alive --

                     CHUCK

          I would have done the same thing.

His responses come so quick.  Chuck seems blissfully sure of

himself.

                     KELLY

          I didn't want to.  It just happened.  One

          day Gary was there.  He took care of

          everything.  He took care of me.  I was a

          mess.

                     CHUCK

          You have any children?

Kelly nods.

                     CHUCK

          Got a picture?

Kelly fishes for a photo, shows it to Chuck.  It's a little

girl with a dog.

                     KELLY

          Her name's Hannah.

                     CHUCK

          Is that Jango?

                     KELLY

          No, this is Jack.  Jango was hit by a UPS

          truck.  Can you believe it?

Chuck laughs.  It is funny, sort of.

                     CHUCK

          Life's just one big joke after another.

Stan appears, takes in the scene.  The few patients waiting

are edged into the corners, trying to look occupied with

something else.

                     STAN

          How about we go somewhere else?

                     CHUCK

          Want to see my raft?

EXT.  HAWAII - DAY

Chuck's raft sits up on a dock.  Kelly stands staring at it.

How small and fragile it looks.

                     STAN

          This stinks really bad.

                     CHUCK

          You should have smelled me.

Stan examines the ropes around the logs.

                     STAN

          Cool ropes.

                     CHUCK

          I braided them.

                     STAN

          Must have taken a hell of a long time.

                     CHUCK

          Time I had lots of.

Kelly points at something on the raft.

                     KELLY

          What's that?

                     CHUCK

          That's my sea anchor.  My second one.

          Made it out of part of the sail.  It

          keeps you from capsizing in a storm.  In

          theory.

               (picks up his still)

          And this, this I used to collect water.

          About half a cup a day.

He's not feeling sorry for himself.  It's just a fact.

                     STAN

          You were how long on this?

                     CHUCK

          Forty-three days.

They look at the tiny raft.  It speaks for itself.

                     KELLY

          All that time I waited to go on a cruise,

          and you went without me.

                     CHUCK

          Yeah, well...couldn't be helped.

Kelly notices the sail, sees the writing on it.

                     KELLY

          What's that, written on the sail?

                     CHUCK

          My epitaph.

Kelly reads it to herself.  Her eyes are moist.

                     CHUCK

          Bad body chemistry.  Made me a little

          morbid.  But I'm all over that now.

And he seems really to believe it.

                     STAN

          I'll be at the car.

               (to Kelly)

          Take you to the airport.

And he leaves.

                     KELLY

          I buried you, Chuck.  They had to pry my

          fingers off your coffin.

This interests Chuck to no end.

                     CHUCK

          There was a coffin?

                     KELLY

          Yeah, coffin, headstone, the whole thing.

                     CHUCK

          What was inside?

                     KELLY

          Your calendar, your cell phone, your whoo

          pig sooey hat, some pictures of that

          ketch you wanted.

                     CHUCK

          That about sums it up.

                     KELLY

          Maybe now's when you tell me about it.

                     CHUCK

          The plane went down.  My friends died.  I

          washed up on an island.  Then I found

          these barrels, built the raft, and here I

          am.

                     KELLY

          Yeah?

                     CHUCK

          The tide came in, the tide went out.  I

          survived.  That's the headline.  I

          survived.

                     KELLY

          Don't overwhelm me with the details.

               (she smiles remembering)

          You know how I hate that.

He tries to put it into words, isn't quite sure how.

                     KELLY

               (gently)

          Come on.  Try.

                     CHUCK

          Cliches, mainly.  Don't take anyone for

          granted.  Don't sweat the small stuff.

          Live each day like it's your last.

                     KELLY

          So simple to say, so hard to do.

                     CHUCK

          Not when you have no choice.

Kelly looks down at the raft.  It's so small.

                     KELLY

          You hated being alone.  Couldn't stand

          it.  Busy every minute.  Always plugged

          into something.

                     CHUCK

          I didn't know what really being alone

          was.  No one back here does.

He has something more to say.  She waits.

                     CHUCK

          We're not meant to be alone.  Not like

          that.  Share life, that's what came to me

          out there.  Be with someone.

And that's the point, isn't it?  We are social animals.  No

man is an island.

                     KELLY

          This is so unfair.

                     CHUCK

          That's what I told the fish I caught.

          But I ate them anyway.

And the laughter comes again.  Kelly grins, embarrassed, a

little worried.

                     KELLY

          You okay?

                     CHUCK

          Great.  Really.

She stares at his face, reaches out, touches it again, this

time with great tenderness.

He nods, her touch feels so good.

A wave of emotion comes over her:  pity?  love?

                     KELLY

          What will you do?

                     CHUCK

          I don't know.  I really don't know.

We hear a distant beep-beep, discrete as a car horn can be.

                     KELLY

          I've got to get back to Memphis.

          Hannah's babysitter has finals.

                     CHUCK

          It means a lot...that you came.

                     KELLY

          I had to come.  To be sure you were okay.

They hold each other.  For a long time.

                     KELLY

          I love you, Chuck.

                     CHUCK

          You too.

                     KELLY

          I'm so glad you're alive.

Chuck grins.

                     CHUCK

          You too.

Then she heads for the waiting car.  Chuck stands by his

raft, watching her go.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck and Stan ride on the plane.  Chuck is coming down off

his survival high.  He has the Angel Wing FedEx package with

him.

                     STAN

          When I first showed up, I thought you'd

          lost your fucking marbles.

                     CHUCK

          I never thought it would end.  Then it

          did.  It was so great to be saved, I

          couldn't stop laughing.

Stan pulls a flask out of his bag.

                     STAN

          You need a drink.

Stan takes two glasses from his bag, rests them on a FedEx

container, and pours the whiskey.

                     CHUCK

          For years my only drinking buddy was a

          soccer ball.  Wilson.

Stan hoists his glass.

                     STAN

          To Wilson.

                     CHUCK

          To Wilson.

Now's when Stan gets to the question he's been wanting to

ask, that Kelly wanted to know, that we all want to know.

                     STAN

          So, what's it all about?

Chuck stares at him.

                     STAN

          You've been over the line and you came

          back.  You've been saved, hallelujah!

                     CHUCK

          Hallelujah.

Stan looks over at him.

                     STAN

          I'm serious.  The burning bush, the big

          picture, the words in neon...

                     CHUCK

          What's it all about?  It's about being so

          thirsty you'd crush a fish's backbone to

          suck out the spinal fluid -- that's what

          it's about.

Stan sits back, repulsed but relieved.

                     STAN

          Do what it takes.  That's what I always

          told you.

He pours another drink.

                     STAN

          To life.  Fuck 'em if they can't take a

          joke.

                     CHUCK

          To life.

                     STAN

          That's all there is.

                     CHUCK

          Believe me I know.

He takes a sip of his drink, just savoring it, thinking.

                     CHUCK

          But it's not being bold or being in the

          game or rolling the dice.

All those things Stan used to tell him.

                     CHUCK

          When I was going crazy, on the raft, I'd

          argue with myself about everything.

          Because everything had a price.  To get

          anything -- a sip of water, a little

          corner of shade, an hour's sleep -- I had

          to let go of something else.  And then I

          could never get it back.

He thinks some more.

                     CHUCK

          You don't win or lose.  You win and lose.

He looks out the window.

                     CHUCK

          You win and lose.

And Chuck has.  Big time.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT

A FedEx MD-11 lands.

EXT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - MOMENTS LATER

The MD-11 taxis up.  As usual, the SuperHub is a frenzy of

activity.  A loading crew stands ready, forklifts poised.

Even this plane carries packages.

PHIL STEELE, the chairman of FedEx, Leslie, Becca, Dick, and

other executives wait on a special podium near the gangway.

Everyone looks different -- older, a mustache here, a

thickening around the belly there.

Behind a barrier a cluster of cameras film the scene.

The plane cuts its engine.  The stairs are rolled out.

Forklifts and gangways move forward.  Cargo doors open.

Chuck appears in the door.  He holds the FedEx Package and a

small travel bag.

Chuck blinks against the lights and the glare.  Stan is right

by him.  Everyone bursts into APPLAUSE AND CHEERING.

After four years of total solitude this is completely

overwhelming.

                     STAN

          Smile.

Chuck smiles.

                     STAN

          Wave.

And Chuck waves.  He's overwhelmed by all the input.  Stan

steers Chuck down the steps as the cheers continue.

At the bottom of the steps Roger steps forward.  The two

brothers embrace each other.  After a moment Roger

disengages.  Mary gives Chuck a hug.

                     MARY

          Oh Chuck --

                     CHUCK

          Where's Mom?

                     ROGER

          Waiting for you.  At the farm.  This was

          too much --

He looks around at the crowds.

                     CHUCK

          Tell me about it.

Stan nudges Chuck.  Time to go to the podium.

                     ROGER

          Glad you made it, big brother.

Stan and Chuck head for the podium.  All the loaders and

operators and package scanners begin to applaud.  Chuck

smiles, then laughs, getting into the emotion.  He keeps up

an almost indecipherable babble underneath the cheering.

Occasionally he sees someone he knows.

                     CHUCK

          Wow.  Thank you.  Great.  Thank you.

          Hey, Rasheed, how you doing?  Thank you

          all.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - WIDE

Chuck makes his triumphant way through this amazing

collection of cheering people like Moses parting the Red Sea.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - PLATFORM

With a big smile Phil Steele holds out his hand to Chuck.

                     STEELE

          Welcome home.

He steps to the microphone and addresses the SuperHub.

                     STEELE

          This is an extraordinary moment.  And it

          should be marked in an extraordinary way.

          With something we have never done since

          this company was founded.

               (pause)

          Stop the line!

EXT.  SUPERHUB - SERIES OF SHOTS

All over the SuperHub, belts come to a halt.  Forklifts stop.

Tracking stations shut down.  The vast flow of packages is

suddenly still.  The incredible din of activity is suddenly

quiet.  The stillness and the silence are unexpected and

palpable.  Thousands of workers stop as well, staring either

up at Chuck directly or at his image on video screens.  We

hear Phil's voice piped in.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - PLATFORM

Phil holds a plaque.

                     STEELE

          Four years ago we placed this plaque in

          honor of Charles Noland, and two just

          like it in honor of Al Morris and John

          Durham, the two brave pilots who went

          down with him.

As he talks, we stay on Chuck, who is taking in this amazing

scene, not really listening.

                     STEELE

          Chuck endured years of hardship and

          loneliness.  Like Lazarus, Chuck has come

          back from the dead.  Chuck, this is your

          family, all of us.  So it gives me great

          pleasure...to take this plaque...and to

          present it to our long lost son.  Welcome

          home.

He hands the plaque to Chuck.  Chuck acknowledges the cheers

of the crowd.

                     CHUCK

          Thank you.  Thank you very much...

Everyone applauds.

                     CHUCK

          Give me a minute.  I've spent four years

          looking out at an empty ocean.

He laughs, a short brittle laugh, composes himself.

                     CHUCK

          It's all so -- big.  You never think

          you'll miss -- all this.  But I did.  I

          really, really did.  And I missed all of

          you.

He looks over at the hub.

                     CHUCK

          You've added some new belts, and what's

          that?

He points at some high tech equipment on the edge of the

shed.

                     STAN

          Digital laser readers.

                     CHUCK

          Digital laser readers.  Wow.  Terrific.

He looks around at everyone, doesn't know what else to say.

                     CHUCK

          I've never heard it this quiet.

          Shouldn't you all be getting back to

          work?

The tension is broken.  Everyone laughs.  Phil Steele motions

with his hand.  Let it be done.

ANOTHER ANGLE - WIDE

The vast, incredible machinery creaks to a start.  Everyone

shakes Chuck's hand as he leaves the podium.

As he heads for the car, REPORTERS shout questions.

INT.  CAR - MEMPHIS FREEWAY

We are assaulted by a surge of light, motion, activity.

Snaking lines of traffic in both directions, big overpasses,

the city rising beyond.

Stan drives with a certain aggressiveness.  Chuck looks out

at the traffic, at all the activity, at the vast intricate

anthill of humanity going everywhere and nowhere.

                     CHUCK

          Take your time.

                     STAN

          What?

                     CHUCK

          That's what it's about.

                     STAN

          Being patient.  Don't rush things.  I get

          it.

He swerves into another lane.

                     CHUCK

          Not just that.  Take your time.  Use it.

          Live it.

                     STAN

          Deep, real deep.

He grins, cuts across to the exit.

                     STAN

          So where to?  The office?  The hotel?

          The beach?

Chuck stares at him.  Are you kidding?

                     STAN

          What, then?

                     CHUCK

          Deliver this package.  Then, I dunno.

                     STAN

               (re: the package)

          You want that delivered, we'll deliver

          it.  That's what we do.

                     CHUCK

          I need to do it.

                     STAN

          Finish what you started.  You haven't

          changed, Chuck.  It's still you.

Right.

                     CHUCK

          You want to help, help me find the woman

          who sent this.

INT.  OPERATIONS CENTER - DAY

Stan and Chuck are in the office of a TECHNICIAN who is

working away at his computer.  The Technician pulls the bar

code from the Angel Wing FedEx box up on his computer screen.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Okay.  After three years the PTR reverts

          to tape storage, which is okay because we

          access it through the CPC.  Here it is.

               (gestures at computer map)

          Ten packages from the same sender.  Baku.

          Delhi.  St. Petersburg.  The guy was a

          real road warrior.  This package was

          Kuala Lampur.  No activity in his account

          after this package.  No forwarding

          addresses after K.L.

                     CHUCK

          What about the sender?

                     TECHNICIAN

          Sure.  Bettina Peterson.  Marfa, Texas.

          Let's run a current check.

He works some keys, waits.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Hmmm.  Durango, Colorado; Asheville,

          North Carolina, then...canceled her

          account.

                     CHUCK

          Can you find her?

                     TECHNICIAN

          You're looking at a Level III search.

          For your Level III, you gotta have E-4

          authorization.  I don't have it.

                     STAN

          I do.

He holds out a badge.

                     TECHNICIAN

          Okay, let's let it rip.

He starts to pull up the data.

                     CHUCK

          Thanks.  For everything.

                     STAN

          No sweat.

EXT.  CHUCK'S MOTEL - THAT NIGHT

Chuck leaves the motel, the Angel Box under his arm.  He ties

it into a pannier on the side of a bicycle.

EXT.  MEMPHIS - CHICKASAW GARDENS - NIGHT

Chuck sneaks up to a craftsman cottage and stands by a tree

with a swing on it.  Inside we see Kelly making dinner for

her husband, who plays with their daughter.  For a moment

Chuck watches through the window, and we watch with him.

Then the dog begins to bark.

EXT.  CEMETERY - NIGHT

Chuck walks through the cemetery late at night.  He comes to

his gravestone, stares for a long moment at the inscription,

then takes out a spray can of paint and puts a HANDPRINT on

it.

He gets back on his bicycle and rides away.

EXT.  HIGHWAY - DAY

Chuck rides his bicycle down a road leading into the South.

EXT.  FREEWAY - DAY

Chuck negotiates an overpass crossing an Interstate Highway.

Headed in both directions, cars whoosh by beneath him.

EXT.  HIGHWAY - DUSK - LATER

Chuck rides down a narrow road, shrouded in mist.  Moss drips

from the trees reaching over the road.  A car goes by.  Then

another, their lights like halos in the fog.  It's a mystical

scene, a passage.

EXT.  ARKANSAS - NIGHT

Chuck gets off his bicycle in the rain and walks toward a

roadside cafe.

INT.  CAFE - NIGHT

Chuck draws on a paper place mat as he waits for his meal at

a counter.  Above the counter the television plays.

                     ANNOUNCER

          And here's more from Dingo Dodd, our

          Australian correspondent, on the

          extraordinary story of Chuck Noland, the

          modern Robinson Crusoe.

The waitress sets a plate down in front of Chuck, turns to

watch.

On the TV we see an Australian correspondent standing on

Chuck's beach.

                     DINGO DODD

          Shark infested waters!  A deserted

          island!  Surrounded by reefs!  Accessible

          only by helicopter!  For four years Chuck

          Noland survived here alone, eating fish,

          coconuts and clams, his only companion a

          soccer ball.

Chuck is staring at the screen, seeing his cave, seeing all

those years.

                     DINGO DODD

          I'm now in Chuck's cave where he passed

          the lonely nights, painting on the walls

          like some prehistoric caveman.  What did

          Chuck feel?  These paintings tell the

          story, but only Chuck knows what they

          mean.  And he's not talking.

On the screen we see a photograph of Chuck.

The waitress looks over at Chuck.  The other clients look at

him too.

                     CHUCK

          Check, please.

The waitress comes over.

                     WAITRESS

          No charge, honey.  But could you just

          sign that place mat for me?

Chuck looks down at his doodling.  Hesitates.  Then signs his

name.

INT.  TYSON'S CHICKEN - ARKANSAS - DAY

Thousands of chicken carcasses hanging on hooks circle

through the huge processing plant, a vast structure on the

scale of the SuperHub or the Hospital.

Chuck's Mom, dressed in white with a hairnet, enters a

windowed office in the b.g.  Through the window we see her

hug Chuck.

INT.  TYSON'S CHICKEN - OFFICE - ARKANSAS - DAY

We are in the office now.  Chuck's Mom's eyes are moist.

                     CHUCK

          When'd you start working here?

                     MOM

          Roger got me on.  I wasn't doing

          anything, and -- but you're back, you're

          really back.  I would have come to

          Memphis, but --

                     CHUCK

          I wanted to come here.

INT.  FRAME HOUSE - ARKANSAS - DAY

Chuck eats a Southern fried drumstick.  The table is full of

home-cooked food.

                     MOM

          Have some more potato salad.

Chuck gestures, no, I'm full.  She puts down the spoon.

                     CHUCK

          That was great, Mom, just great.

He looks around the house, everything in its place.  His

mother has been here for forty years.  There's a big crack

running down from the ceiling.

                     CHUCK

          I've got all this back pay coming.  Why

          don't you let me get you a place in town?

                     MOM

          This is my home.  I'm part of the

          wallpaper.

She studies him for a moment.

                     MOM

          You miss it, don't you?  You miss that

          island.

He does, but that's not it entirely.

                     CHUCK

          Miss that island?  Mom, come on.

She looks at him.  She knows her boy.

                     MOM

          What a journey you've had.  It seems more

          than a person should have to bear.

                     CHUCK

          The tide saved me, Mom.  I lived by it.

          I'm just wondering where it will take me

          next.

She looks at him, thinks about this.

                     MOM

          Remember the family motto.  In time.  It

          will come to you, in time.

EXT.  ARKANSAS - DAY

Chuck rides away from the small neat frame house, down a

country lane with trailers up on blocks.

EXT.  GULF COAST - DAY

Chuck leaves a cheap motel as the sun comes up.

EXT.  MISSISSIPPI GULF COAST - DAY - LATER

Chuck rides on a ferry, the wind blowing his face.  The sky

is gray and drizzly.  He smells the salt water.  Watches the

waves.

EXT.  GAS STATION - DAY

Chuck asks for directions.  A kid in baggy pants and no shirt

points him down the road.

EXT.  GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck pulls some clothes out of his saddle bags.

EXT.  GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck emerges from the restroom wearing a FedEx shirt and

shorts.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER

A classic beach house.  Sand dunes, stilts.  Carrying the

Angel Wing Box under his arm, Chuck checks the address in his

hand.  Mounts the steps.  A light mist falls.  You can see

the Gulf behind the house, gray and moody.

A WOMAN, BETTINA, answers the door -- THE woman from the

beginning.  She wears cut-off jeans and a blue work shirt

covered with paint.  There's a tattoo on her ankle.

                     CHUCK

          FedEx for Bettina Peterson.

The woman stares in disbelief at the package she hasn't seen

in years and never expected to see again.

                     BETTINA

          Where did you get that?

Chuck displays a FedEx badge.

                     CHUCK

          Charles Noland.  FedEx Special Projects.

Bettina notices Chuck's bicycle.

                     BETTINA

          You came on a bicycle?  No wonder it's so

          late.

                     CHUCK

          There was an unavoidable delay.

Bettina stares at the package, her own memories coming back.

                     BETTINA

          Well, I have to say, I'm impressed.  You

          never gave up.

                     CHUCK

          No.

She holds the box and studies him for a long moment.

Something -- the look on his face, the extraordinary

reappearance of this long-lost package -- makes her curious.

                     BETTINA

          You know what happened to this?

                     CHUCK

          As much as anybody.

                     BETTINA

          Want to come in?  Get dry for a minute.

                     CHUCK

          Okay.  Sure.

She lets Chuck in the door.

INT.  HOUSE - DAY

Ladders.  Scaffolds.  Huge paintings are everywhere.

Paintings of wings and angels -- like the package.  Chuck

stares at them.  Bettina watches Chuck stare.

                     BETTINA

          I've got some coffee on.  Would you like

          some?

INT.  KITCHEN - LATER

Bettina pours some coffee.  The package sits in the counter.

Some magazines are spread around, including a People Magazine

with Chuck's photograph on the cover.

                     CHUCK

               (takes a sip)

          It's good.

They smile awkwardly at each other.  She starts to open it.

                     BETTINA

          Hmmm.  Feels like it might have gotten

          wet.

                     CHUCK

          Possible.  So you did those wings?

                     BETTINA

          Yeah.  A long time ago.

                     CHUCK

          They're harder to do than they look.

                     BETTINA

          Oh?  You've tried?

                     CHUCK

          Well, I do a little drawing --

She's opened the package.  She pulls out the bottles of salsa

and the letter.

                     CHUCK

          Our apologies that it never made it to

          the recipient.

                     BETTINA

          He was a sorry sonofabitch, and I'm sorry

          I ever married him.

There is a moment where neither knows what to say.

                     BETTINA

          You look familiar.

Her eyes start to register recognition.  She glances at the

magazine with Chuck's picture on it.  She picks it up.

                     BETTINA

          I can't believe this.  I -- I -- They

          are... You're a gifted artist.  You're

          into something very powerful.  Primal.

          Truly.

                     CHUCK

          Well, not really, I --

                     BETTINA

          You are.  Yes you are.

               (so many things she wants to

                say)

          What gave you the idea to paint on that

          cave?

Chuck thinks about that.  After a moment, he grins.

                     CHUCK

          To tell you the truth -- you did.

                     BETTINA

          Do you...have any more packages to

          deliver?

                     CHUCK

          No.  that was the last one.

                     BETTINA

          Just sit here, I'll get us some lunch.

Chuck sits back on the couch, taking in the sight of the

ocean in the light rain.  He looks over at all the canvases,

the easel, the palettes.  The wind rustles the palm trees

around the house.  The surf crashes and rustles.  Familiar

sounds.  Island sounds.

He relaxes a little.  Maybe the package with the wings was a

sign, he kept it all these years precisely for this.  Then

there's a sound of a truck in the driveway.

The engine cuts off.  There are steps on the porch.  The door

opens.  A tanned muscular MAN in neatly kept work clothes

comes in, hangs a tool belt on a hook by the door.

He looks at Chuck with a relaxed, even stare, as if seeing a

man in a FedEx uniform sitting on his couch is not an unusual

occurrence.

                     MAN

          Hey.

                     CHUCK

          Hey.

                     BETTINA (O.S.)

          In here!

The Man nods at Chuck, goes into the kitchen.  We are on

Chuck's face.  Who's this?  We hear muffled laughter from

inside.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER

Arms around each other, the Man and the Woman say goodbye to

Chuck.  In the front yard is a panel truck painted with two

angel wings.  The Man grins at Chuck, an easy, friendly grin.

                     MAN

          Come back anytime.  Coffee's always on.

          Don't even have to bring us a package.

                     CHUCK

          That was my last one.

Bettina hands Chuck a sheet of paper.

                     BETTINA

          The list of paints and brushes I did for

          you.

He takes it, not exactly sure he wants it.

                     BETTINA

          Keep painting.  Promise me.

                     CHUCK

          Sure.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck rides his bicycle away, along the shore.

EXT.  BEACH - MINUTES LATER

Chuck rides along the beach.  Up ahead we see a FedEx truck.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck gets off his bike as a female FEDEX DRIVER puts chocks

under the wheels, which have stuck in the sand.

                     CHUCK

          Need some help?

                     DRIVER

          You bet I do.  High tide comes right up

          to this road.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck pushes on the truck as the driver gives it gas.  The

truck slowly pulls back onto the pavement.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

The Driver gets out of the truck with a grin.  She has an

open, friendly face.  There's an instant connection between

them.

                     DRIVER

          Hey, thanks.  I'd never have got that out

          by myself.

Looks at his uniform.  At the bike.

                     DRIVER

          You're not out of Pascagoula, are you?

                     CHUCK

          No.

Where is he from, anyway?

                     CHUCK

          I used to drive one of those.  A long

          time ago.

                     DRIVER

          Hey, once a driver, always a driver.  You

          want a lift?  I've just got one more

          pickup.

                     CHUCK

          Sure.

He picks up his bike.

INT.  FEDEX TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

The FedEx truck makes its way down the beach, Chuck in his

uniform, the Driver in hers.  Two FedEx people in a truck.

The Driver looks over at Chuck.

                     DRIVER

          You're Chuck Noland.

                     CHUCK

          Yeah.

                     DRIVER/ERICA

          I knew it!  You're a legend!  Mr.

          Robinson Crusoe.

                     CHUCK

          Well --

                     ERICA

          I knew I recognized you.  My name's

          Erica.

They smile at each other.  Then she smiles a little more.

                     ERICA

          Did you really steal a crippled kid's

          bicycle to make your deliveries, or is

          that just some bullshit story?

                     CHUCK

          I didn't steal it, and he wasn't

          crippled.

Erica laughs.

                     ERICA

          Otherwise it's completely true.

And that makes Chuck laugh, really laugh, for the first time.

                     CHUCK

          Yeah, completely.

She looks over at him with a grin.

                     ERICA

          What brings you out to the sticks?

                     CHUCK

          Had a package to deliver.

                     ERICA

          You?  Personally?

                     CHUCK

          I had it on the island with me.

                     ERICA

          Must be a story there.

There's a connection building here, effortlessly.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

We are wide on the beach, watching the truck move along the

water, kicking up wisps of sand.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)

          Yeah, a long one.

                     ERICA (V.O.)

          I've got lots of time.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)

          So do I.

The truck goes down the beach and then turns inland, away

from the ocean.  Away from all that.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)

          So do I.

And we pull back, taking in the sweep of the beach, the

estuaries, and the green forest stretching back into America.

The end is the beginning.

FADE OUT.

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