Arctic Blue Page #5

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SPORTSMAN #1

We're on our own, if it's any of

your damn business.

CORBETT:

(re ermine)

You did real good.

He crouches next to the dead animals and strokes the fur.

LEMALLE:

(to Corbett)

No swinging sh*t. They're over

their goddamned limit.

CORBETT:

(to Sportsmen)

My friend is right. Supposed to

have a licensed guide when you're

on this land, too.

SPORTSMAN #1

Hey, we paid our f***in' permit

fees.

LeMalle amuses himself by pissing in their campfire. No one

notices that in the b.g., quiet Sportsman #3 unzips his

parka, exposing a .45 Peacemaker in a belt holster.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED:

SPORTSMAN #2

I were you, I'd drive right on

outta here again. Now.

CORBETT:

(calmly)

This was my roaming land, 'til

the government took it over.

Only Innuit can hunt here now,

and tourists, like you.

Corbett swings the rucksack of carcasses onto the hood of

the Land Rover. Pissed, Sportsmen #1 and #2 step closer to

him.

CORBETT:

(continuing)

According to tribal law, hunters

passing through the land of

another tribe can only take game

to survive. They can eat the

meat, but have to surrender the

hides.

LeMalle pulls a hunting knife and holds up one of the

ermine.

LEMALLE:

Want the meat?

SPORTSMAN #1

F*** you, dirtball.

Corbett chuckles and Mitchell spits.

WIDER:

LeMalle digs through the camping goodies in the back of the

Land Rover, many still in their packages. He helps himself

to some sandwiches and a 12-pack of beer.

LEMALLE:

I say shoot 'em, bury 'em with

their shiny new car.

MITCHELL:

(to LeMalle)

If you're gonna take something,

take it and let's go.

Corbett looks down to fasten the top of the rucksack.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED:
(2)

NEW ANGLE:

Suddenly, Sportsman #3 reaches inside his parka and pulls

the pistol. He swings it toward LeMalle.

LeMalle looks up when he hears the HAMMER cock.

There is a deafeningly loud SHOT.

Sportsman #3 falls down dead at LeMalle's feet.

Off to one side, Corbett holds a huge, smoking .44 magnum

six-shooter in his hand.

Shotgun in hand, Sportsman #1 gauges his chances of blasting

Corbett. Nil. When Corbett turns to him, he lies the

weapon down. Sportsman #2 rushes to his friend.

Looking bleak, Mitchell spits again. Corbett crosses to

LeMalle and knocks from his hands the things he wanted to

steal. Chastised, LeMalle smolders. After a moment:

CORBETT:

(to Sportsmen)

Put him in your truck. Smell of

blood will attract the bears.

(to trappers)

Let's go.

As Corbett walks to the jeep, he's too angry to notice that

he's stepped in a patch of mud under the Land Rover.

Near the jeep, LeMalle stops and pulls them into a huddle.

LEMALLE:

I don't believe in leavin'

witnesses behind, Ben.

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