Big Sky

Walk downstairs.

14 steps total... 14.

Step through the front door.

68 degrees outside... 68.

Reaching 97,

back to 65

tonight when you're

back inside.

Three...

Oh, shit! Goddamn it!

Oh, good. You're awake.

That makes one of us.

I'm awake now, that's for sure.

I stepped on my keys.

Those little buggers can hurt!

What were your keys

doing on the floor

of the upstairs hallway anyway?

Oh, wait. Let me guess.

Um, you dropped them

last night mid-swig

or mid-something else.

You know, I did hear

stu start to, um,

moan.

Yeah, like a man moan.

Maybe we should ask him.

He's not here anymore.

We scared him off.

Happy?

And at least I have keys.

At least I have use for keys.

Just say the word,

and these are yours.

You packed.

I washed your lucky shirt.

Oh, and I, uh,

I called them again.

Double-checked about the ride.

Uh, the van's windows

will be tinted.

The driver will

never go above 55,

on or off the highway.

Barely even feel

like you're moving.

And You'll have the back row

all to yourself.

No one will even be

able to look at you.

It's just how

you like it, right?

Right?

One...

Half red, half blue.

Half white and half red.

Was that dad on the phone?

Mm-hmm.

While I was in the shower?

Mm-hmm.

And what did he say?

Wanted to wish you

a Bon voyage.

What did you say? I told him

you were in the shower.

Oh, and that he and his new

wife are festering boils

that should be lanced

from the ass of humanity.

Good, right?

You took only three, right?

Of course.

You want to check them?

And If we're missing some,

It's only 'cause stu

boosted a few on his way out.

His name is Steve

Hayes, not stu.

Sorry.

So you were saying that

she missed her graduation.

Graduation, senior prom,

junior prom before

that... all of it.

Anything to avoid

another attack, huh?

So the last one was when?

Are you the driver

or the doctor?

Look, I'm just the guy who's

trying to get your daughter

from here to there, that's it.

Uh, the last one was

about six months ago.

Six months.

Tried going for a walk.

About a minute in,

she started to choke.

And, um,

along came shrink number four

and prescription number seven.

So now she's got her pills

and her birds

and her computer and me

bringing meals to her room.

So she won't eat down here?

She won't come down here.

She hasn't for months.

Well, that kind of limits

the social life, huh?

Hazel doesn't have

a social life.

I was talking about you.

No cuts, no scrapes,

no nicks, no scratches.

No cuts, no scrapes,

no nicks,

no abrasions.

No abrasions.

I can do it.

I can do it.

I can do it...

Alone.

Mm, I'm gonna need

all distractions.

I know, I know.

Tunnel vision.

I can do it.

Seven more steps.

Seven more steps.

Seven more steps.

Okay.

So there's your air, all right?

And there's your light,

and that is your eject button,

If at any point you just want

to come out and join the party.

That invitation's always open.

Okay, Hazel?

You're gonna be fine

in there, Hazel.

Snug as a bug. Nothing

can touch you.

I'll come with you, haze.

How's that?

I'll just come with

you for the ride.

Okay.

Yeah, all good.

On schedule.

Right-o, jefe.

You guys think

of everything, huh?

Oh, yeah, well,

we don't fool around.

Well, sometimes we do.

Hey, uh, we got Eddie

making a late-afternoon

return run.

He can bring you

right back If you want.

Oh, yeah?

Next return-around is tomorrow

morning, If you were wondering.

I don't know.

I'll keep that in mind, Mcdreamy.

Right.

Envision destination.

Eliminate all distractions.

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