When we move him, that is — he doesn’t do anything himself, doesn’t talk… The skin tissue is unusual — hard and brittle, like… what is it insects make? A chrysalis? (she looks at ERIC)
I’m sorry, am I upsetting you? Is he a relative?
ERIC (shaking his head)
High school friend…
FADE TO: EXT. — RURAL ROAD — DAY, MINUTES LATER
ERIC is driving, face troubled. He fumbles for a tape and pushes it into the player. Something contemporary begins to fill the car as we CUT TO:
INT. — HOSPITAL — SAME TIME
CLOSE-UP on TOPHER’s strange face. The eyes blink for the first time, slow-motion, as we CUT TO:
INT. — REAL-ESTATE OFFICE — SAME TIME
JANICE, phone against her ear, is looking for something on top of her desk, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand.
JANICE
… I think they’re looking for something a bit less pricey…
She looks at the coffee, which is suddenly black as ink. There is black on her hand, too, and smeared up her arm. She drops the black liquid to the floor, but her desk is covered in black smears too, and it’s all over her legs and skirt and chair. She screams and leaps up, rubbing frantically at herself as we CUT TO:
TOPHER’S EYES: Another SLOW BLINK
INT. — ERIC’S CAR
The contemporary music abruptly twists sideways into the drum-and-screams intro of the Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil”. Eric stares at the tape player, starts to pop the tape, then hears:
YOUNG TOPHER
Hook a right, man — time we got back to your place.
The high-school TOPHER is sitting in the passenger seat, grinning, thumb pointing down a side road. ERIC gasps and hits the brakes. The car fishtails to a stop on the side of the road. ERIC stares. The passenger seat is EMPTY. The music is back to normal.
CUT TO: INT. — REAL ESTATE OFFICE
JANICE is standing up, perfectly clean, her desk clean too, everything fine but for the coffee she spilled on the floor. All her co-workers are STARING at her as we CUT TO:
EXT. — GAS STATION — MINUTES LATER
ERIC has pulled his car into a small service station. The CASHIER, a fifty-something skinny guy with a beard and ponytail wanders out. ERIC gets out and leans against the car, stunned.
CASHIER
It’s self-serve. Hey, you feel all right?
ERIC
Yeah, I guess so.
CASHIER
We got a bathroom if you need to puke or something.
ERIC
No, I… I think I just… had a flashback.
CASHIER (chortles)
I know about that shit, man. Between acid and that Post Traumatic Stress shit, I’ve had so many of them things I prolly spend more time in the old days than I do in the right-now…
ERIC is looking back over the fields and through the trees as we DISSOLVE TO:
INT. — RESTAURANT — NIGHT
ERIC and JANICE eating dinner in an upscale Mexican restaurant. She has dolled up a bit, but has a sweater over her shoulders as though unwilling to relax too much. Neither is eating very heartily.
ERIC
… Had no idea. Oh my God, he looks like… like…
JANICE
Like a monster. I know.
ERIC
It really got to me. I kind of freaked out on the ride back.
JANICE looks troubled, but also angry.
JANICE
Yeah. Tension and guilt will do that to you.
ERIC
Are you saying I should feel guilty, Janice? I do. Of course I do. But it’s not all my fault.
JANICE
You sure left town like you thought it was. (She has been fidgeting with her silverware. She waves a waiter over.)
Could you please give me a clean fork, if it’s not too much to ask? This fork is dirty. It’s disgusting.
The waiter leaves. ERIC looks at her. She stares defiantly back.
JANICE (cont.)
Well, you did, didn’t you? ERIC
What did you want me to do? I had a scholarship that fall, remember? Did you want me not to go to UCLA?
JANICE
To become a journalist and save the world.
ERIC
To become a journalist, yeah, even if I didn’t know it then. Should I have just stayed?
JANICE
Of course not. Then you would have had to break up with me face to face.
ERIC
C’mon — it was as much your idea as mine, wasn’t it?
JANICE
Maybe. But I didn’t get to leave. I had to go to that high school for two years. How do you think that felt? To have people pointing at me, whispering about me…? ERIC
If you want me to say I’m sorry, Janice, I will. I’m sorry. (He toys with his food.)
Didn’t you have anyone else to talk to? What about Brent?
JANICE
Oh, sure, Brent. I hardly saw him. He got all weird — started reading like Tibetan Buddhism and stuff. ERIC
Brent? Reading books?
JANICE
He’s a lot different, Eric. You’d hardly know him. He’s done really well, actually. He lost a lot of weight, married some ex-model, owned his own advertising agency in Los Angeles for a while, then sold out and moved back here…
ERIC
Advertising agency? Oh, shit, he wasn’t the Zenger in Zenger-Kimball, was he? That’s too weird.
JANICE
Like I said, you wouldn’t recognize him…
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. — BRENT’S HOUSE — SAME TIME
The ADULT BRENT ZENGER looks fit and successful — nice haircut, buff body, expensive casual clothes. His wife TRACY and daughter JOANIE look up from the couch where they’re watching television. BRENT heads for the closet to hang up his coat.
