EXT. STREET IN GEORGETOWN - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

Fog hangs above the street, amongst the streetlamps. Apartment

buildings line the curb, it is very quiet. In one building, six floors

up, a bedroom light is on. WE SEE the silhouette of Norman's WIFE

looking out the window.

WIFE (O.S.)

What kind of a crash was it?

NORMAN (O.S.)

You seen my suitcase?

WIFE (O.S.)

There's nothing on the news about a

crash. Did he say what airline?

NORMAN (O.S.)

He didn't say much at all. Honey --

WIFE (O.S.)

In the closet. I don't understand,

Norman -- why would they call you?

NORMAN (O.S.)

Don't be so supportive, honey.

WIFE (O.S.)

Well, I can't imagine five years of

unemployment --

NORMAN (O.S.)

Four. Four years --

WIFE (O.S.)

Four years of unemployment would

look too good on a resume.

NORMAN (O.S.)

Keep watching the news. Are you

watching the news?

WIFE (O.S.)

How are you getting to the airport?

You need money for the bus?

A tinted-window black SEDAN travels down the street, pulls up in front

of the apartment building. A U.S. NAVY decal is on the door.

WIFE (O.S.)

There's a U.S. Navy car outside,

Norman.

NORMAN (O.S.)

What?

WIFE (O.S.)

Was it a military crash?

NORMAN (O.S.)

I don't know.

WIFE (O.S.)

They never used to send a Navy car.

CUT TO:

THE LOUD, HARD CHOPPING OF A HELICOPTER PROPELLER

EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY

Blinding sunlight, as the helicopter WHIPS by, speeding above the

Pacific Ocean.

INT. HELICOPTER - DAY

Norman, 53, disheveled, unshaven, sits in the back. He studies a

pamphlet in his hand: "AIRCRASH SURVIVAL: HOW TO COPE". The PILOT, in

the cockpit, turns to him.

PILOT:

What kinda work you in, Dr. Johnson?

Norman quickly stuffs the pamphlet into his dufflebag.

NORMAN:

I'm in psychology. Was. Still am

really, just been a while.

(beat)

I treat aircrash survivors.

PILOT:

Oh, so you're that Dr. Johnson.

NORMAN:

You've heard of me?

PILOT:

Well, everybody's been talking about

that report you wrote.

NORMAN:

What report?

PILOT:

Huh?

NORMAN:

What report?

PILOT:

You mean you don't know?

NORMAN:

Know what?

The pilot glances back at him again.

PILOT:

Must be another Johnson then. Been

flying so many scientists out here

-- can't keep everyone straight.

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