EXT. DENSE WOODS (SAN JUAN ISLAND) - EARLY MORNING (1985)
A LARGE BUCK walks amongst the trees, golden sunlight
highlighting its short brown fur. It stops, noses a tree
trunk, tearing off the bark, chewing.
OFF TO THE SIDE:
an ELDERLY COUPLE on an early morning stroll
talk QUIETLY, pointing at the buck. It really is a pretty
-RIFLE SCOPE POV: a scope scans the trees. It lands on the
Elderly Couple before finding the deer. Then it returns to
the unsuspecting couple, aiming.
But finally, reluctantly, it snaps back to the animal. The
cross-hairs settle between the deer’s eyes.
There’s an EXHALE and a POP. Then the MUTED THUD of the deer
falling onto the ground. Followed by the SHOCKED YELPS of-
Horrified, they clutch each other, turning in the direction
of the shooter.
ANGLE ON SHOOTER-
This is not your average hunter. Or person. This is LOU
(female, older), a wrinkled warrior whose aging body belies
her keen mind. She’s lived twice as hard as anyone else and
will never learn the rules to shuffle board.
Lou gives the Elderly Couple a curt wave.
They wave back, afraid of what will happen if they don’t.
They watch as Lou makes her way to the deer, passing a sign
SAN JUAN NATIONAL PARK. NO HUNTING.
ANGLE ON DEER-
Glassy eyes reflect a cloudy sky. There’s still a slight lift
to the chest. It’s alive. LOU’S BOOTS appear beside the body.
She pulls a large HUNTING KNIFE from the pocket of her
flannel jacket, unsheathing it as she kneels.
Her fingers brush along the deer’s fur. She finds the artery
and plunges her knife deep. The deer passes quickly.
Wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Sorry about that.
Lou holds her bloody fingers in the air, eyeing them with
disdain as they tremble. The Elderly Couple scurries away
down the path.
Behind her, the BUSHES SHAKE and JAX, a mangy, mixed breed
dog emerges from the leaves. Like Lou, he moves slower than
he use to. He’s a good dog who’s seen better days.
He SNIFFS the dead deer. Then looks back at Lou. Wearily.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask
And with that, Lou slits the deer’s throat, draining the
EXT. SAN JUAN ISLAND (WASHINGTON STATE) - ESTABLISHING
An AERIAL VIEW of the craggy island situated off the coast of
Washington, a heavily wooded place with a few pockets of
civilization and a gorgeous harbor. The type of place where
everyone knows your name whether you want them to or not.
EXT. ROAD/PARKING LOT (SAN JUAN BANK) - AFTERNOON
Lou steers an old rusted F-150 truck, held together with duct
tape and stubbornness, into the parking lot.
The lot is full of similar looking vehicles, making it
difficult to tell if all the cars are old or we’re in 1985.
ANGLE ON TRUCK BED-
The butchered deer bounces beneath a piece of heavy canvas.
Jax sleeps soundly on top, despite the bumpy ride.
INT. SAN JUAN BANK (SAN JUAN ISLAND) - MOMENTS LATER
Lou enters and chooses between two open tellers. The UNCHOSEN
TELLER looks relieved. RITA (30’s), the chosen teller,
smiles, making the best of it. Her enormous shoulder pads and
bold eye shadow confirm we’re definitely in the eighties.
Hi Lou! How can I help you today?
Here’s my account number. I’d like
to withdraw all my money.
Lou slides a piece of paper across the counter. Rita types
the info into a primitive-looking computer.
That’s quite a large sum, Lou.
She talks to Lou slowly and loudly, a nursing home
intonation. If possible, Lou’s scowl deepens.