Gangs of New York Page #6

BILL THE BUTCHER

You need a weapon? Use a knife.

He puts the struggling boy's hand on the hilt of the knife that the

Butcher sunk into his father's chest.

BILL THE BUTCHER

It makes a deeper cut.

And, HIS HAND GUIDING THE BOY'S, he RAMS his knife deep into VALLON's

heart.

BILL THE BUTCHER

Say a benediction, Priest.

VALLON bellows in agony. Amsterdam screams at the very same moment, his

cry mingling with his fatherls tearing through the air.

BILL THE BUTCHER

(to Amsterdam)

Hold this close to mind, boy, should you ever think of going up against

the Native Americans.

Bill the Butcher rises and all around him, as if on some mysterious

signal, the fighting subsides. A DEAD RABBIT sees the fallen Vallon, takes

a battered brass HORN from his belt and sounds THREE NOTES, quick and

sharp. As the notes fade away, the fighting stops completely.

BILL THE BUTCHER

(announcing)

Ears and noses will be trophies of the day.

The Rabbits SCAMPER to collect their dead and wounded before the Natives

can get to them to slice off the battle souvenirs. But there are many

corpses maimed. The Street Kids DISPERSE. The main battle is over, and the

Natives have clearly carried the day.

The Rabbits file past Vallon, rorming a protective CIRCLE around him.

Amsterdam kneels at his side. Vallon tries to speak. Blood bubbles in his

throat.

VALLON:

Can't..can't cross the river... with steel through my heart.

Amsterdam looks around. None of the Rabbits makes a move. This is clearly

something he is meant to do himself.

Amsterdam grabs the tortoise handle of the knife, PULLS on it. Vallon

tries not to cry out. The knife does not move.

Amsterdam tries again. He can't budge the knife. Vallon MOANS. Nearly

wild, Amsterdam PULLS with all his strength. Vallon SCREAMS in agony.

Amsterdam is pulling so hard he raises his father's back four inches off

the ground. Still the knife will not move. Vallon passes out from the pain.

Now, finally, someone steps forward: Monk Eastman. He leans over but

Amsterdam, berserk with grief, pushes him away, turns back to his father,

and, with a last desperate pull, DRAWS the knife from his father's heart.

He throws it on the ground. Monk picks it up, wipes the blade on his arm,

closes the knife and hands it to Amsterdam.

MONK:

That's yours, rightfully.

Now Monk leans over the lifeless body and reaches inside Vallon's coat,

REMOVING some money.

MONK:

And this is mine. Only what's owed. Use the rest for funeral.

AMSTERDAM:

No!

He tries to shove Monk away from his father, when the Native Warrior

intervenes.

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