Hard Rain Page #2

He steps from the sandbag wall onto the rear bumper of the

truck, then keys open the doors.

CHARLIE:

Okay.

Charlie reaches out for the money bags. Tom jumps off the

sandbag wall and lands in the water, splashing Charlie.

CHARLIE:

For Christsakes!

TOM:

It's a flood, Charlie. You're gonna

get wet.

Charlie takes the bags, tosses them in then shuts the back.

He moves toward the front, still trying to keep out of the

water. Tom splashes him some more.

CHARLIE:

Hey! Do you know what kind of crap

is in that water?

TOM:

(of course he knows)

Well, yeah.

Tom kicks some more water at Charlie. Charlie gives Tom a

withering look and climbs in the truck.

INT. ARMORED TRUCK

Charlie gets into the driver's seat; Tom climbs into the

shotgun seat. They shut and bolt the doors. Charlie gets on

the radio.

CHARLIE:

Dispatch, this is 31.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

Go ahead, 31.

CHARLIE:

We're leaving Huntingburg. We'll be

back in an hour.

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

Ten-four. Get out of there.

CHARLIE:

We're gone. Over and out.

Charlie hangs up the radio. He starts writing on a clipboard.

Silence for a few moments, and then Charlie notices Tom

staring at him.

CHARLIE:

What?

TOM:

Your ear.

CHARLIE:

What about my ear?

TOM:

You've got a major hair growth going

on.

CHARLIE:

Shut up.

TOM:

I'm serious. You're gonna need

somebody to go in there with a weed

whacker.

Charlie grabs a donut bag off the seat and tosses it to Tom.

CHARLIE:

Here.

TOM:

You're offering me one of your donuts?

I don't know what to say. I'm getting

all misty.

CHARLIE:

If it'll shut your mouth you can

have the whole bag.

Charlie starts the truck. Tom thinks about it, then tosses

the bag back.

TOM:

Nah. I start eating donuts and I'll

never get out of this truck.

CHARLIE:

(disgusted)

I love how you think you're better

than this.

TOM:

Don't get me wrong, Charlie. There's

a lot to like about this job -- and

I don't just mean the dashing

polyester ensemble and the solid

three-figure income.

CHARLIE:

(angry)

You ungrateful sh*t! I don't believe

you!

TOM:

(surprised)

Charlie, relax! I was kidding!

CHARLIE:

You don't wanna do this? Fine. Go

back to selling hot construction

machinery. That's a helluva career.

TOM:

It had better hours.

Charlie slams the clipboard down on the seat.

CHARLIE:

You think this is a joke? This is

funny? Jesus Christ! You know how

lucky you are you could get in here?

Thirty years old and all the crap

you pulled and you never got caught?

TOM:

(angry)

That wasn't luck, old man. That was

skill. I was good at it.

CHARLIE:

Oh, yeah, it takes a lot of skill to

fence bulldozers. That's goddamn

genius time.

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