Breakdown Page #4

INT. CHEROKEE -DAY

Jeff expels a breath. Amy turns to see the pickup

stopped in the road. She looks at him, concerned.

AMY:

Jesus, Jeff...

JEFF:

Sorry. I took my eyes off the

road.

AMY:

(seeing thermos

on floor)

Maybe it’s time we took a break,

you know?

Jeff nods, looks in the rearview mirror.

HIS POV -PICKUP

halted in the middle of the road. Inside, dimly-visible

through tinted windows, are two figures in cowboy hats.

The driver leans out the window and gives Jeff the

finger.

11.

BACK TO JEFF:

angry at himself. He looks over at Amy.

JEFF:

I’ll pull over next chance we get.

(a beat)

Sorry...

He glances in the rearview again, still a bit shaken.

CUT TO:

EXT. GAS STATION -DAY

A small desert gas station/mini-mart just off the

highway. A sign over the building: "Last Gas For 30

Miles." The Cherokee is parked at the pumps, hood

raised.

Jeff comes out of the mini-mart, carrying a plastic quart

of oil. He unscrews the cap and starts to fill the

crankcase, careful not to spill on the new engine. In

the b.g., Amy is visible inside the store, browsing a

magazine rack.

INT. CONVENIENCE MART -SAME TIME

Amy thumbs through a cheap tourist guide, The Desert

Southwest. A TRUCK DRIVER stands nearby, perusing the

magazines. He glances in Amy’s direction, notices what

she’s reading.

TRUCKER:

On vacation?

Amy looks up at him. He’s 50ish, plain-looking,

friendly, wearing a "U.S.A." logo baseball cap.

AMY:

Sort of. We’re moving, actually.

TRUCKER:

Whereabouts?

Amy hesitates. She’s not used to talking with strangers,

but the guy seems harmless enough.

AMY:

California. We thought we’d take

the scenic route.

(CONTINUED)

12.

CONTINUED:

TRUCKER:

Huh. In that case, you oughta try

the Pass Road, ’bout thirty miles

west. Real pretty, makes a loop

through the hills, then hooks back

up with the highway.

Amy smiles politely, moves toward the cash register.

AMY:

Thanks. I’ll mention it to my

husband.

The Trucker tips his cap.

TRUCKER:

Okay, then. Good luck. Enjoy the

rest of your trip.

EXT. GAS STATION -DAY

As Jeff continues pouring the oil, he doesn’t notice the

mud-streaked Dodge Ram pickup pulling up to the pumps

behind him. The driver, EARL, climbs out. The other man

remains in the cab with the smoked windows rolled up.

Earl is a beefy man about Jeff’s age. He wears a sweat-

stained Western hat, cowboy boots and a T-shirt with the

sleeves cut out to display his tattooed biceps. He

saunters over to the Cherokee, stands there a beat,

looking over Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff senses something behind him, turns. His eyes widen

as he sees Earl, recognizes the pickup as the one he

nearly hit a few minutes before. Earl stares at him,

unsmiling.

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