ARCTIC BLUE

212 INT. AIRSTRIP DEPOT

The depot, as temporary-looking as the rest of Devil's

Cauldron, is a boxcar-shaped loading dock and warehouse with

a corrugated steel roof. Boxes, wood palettes and hand

dollies are piled haphazardly about.

Eric and Corbett navigate through the piles of boxes,

inching toward the front door -- the door leading to the

plane.

Suddenly, a string of overhead lights come on. Eric goes

for the .357, then stops when he sees Meyerling, Kenai and

Neff have come in the front door. Kenai stomps his feet and

shivers. Grandstanding for the others, Meyerling steps

forward.

MEYERLING

Nobody wants any more killings;

we all agree to that, correct?

(no one argues)

That's good. Now, Eric, you're

gonna hand your prisoner over to

us.

ERIC

Fuck you.

MEYERLING

This isn't your concern. It's

over, here and now.

CORBETT

(to Meyerling)

Sure, when you put a bullet in my

back on the way out. Easier for

all involved.

MEYERLING

Not a bad idea. Face it, Ben.

There's no room in Alaska for you

any more.

Meyerling pokes with his foot at a tipped-over rack of

Eskimo paraphernalia -- masks, furs, big skin drums, fish-

and bear-spears.

MEYERLING

(continuing)

You're as antiquated as this

shit.

Meyerling moves toward Corbett, but Eric stands in his way.

(CONTINUED)

212 CONTINUED:

ERIC

Keep back.

CORBETT

You're quite a piece of work,

Meyerling. The tide changes, you

ride right along with it.

Eric looks at Neff.

ERIC

Neff, you know better than

this...

NEFF

You're an outsider, Mr. Desmond.

Step aside; stay out of it.

Kenai and Neff move in with Meyerling. Eric stands his

ground and reaches for the .357 in his belt.

NEW ANGLE

Suddenly, LeMalle stumbles into the depot, the blankets and

furs dragging at his feet. His right side is bathed in

blood. Half-frozen, bled dry, he looks ready to drop down

dead. In his left hand, impossibly, he still clutches the

massive Remington.

He hoists it to his hip and grits his teeth as he BOLTS a

round into the chamber with his injured right arm. Bracing

himself, he levels the rifle at Eric.

Hearing the ACTION of the rifle, Eric turns.

Corbett reaches down, grabs a rusty Eskimo spear in both his

handcuffed hands, and hurls it.

There is a deafening ROAR as LeMalle's rifle discharges.

LeMalle flies back from the recoil -- and from the spear

stuck clear through his chest.

Some packing material above Eric's head smolders, ignited by

the muzzle blast.

NEW ANGLE

There is a moment of silence. Corbett looks at the other

weapons near him, and then at Meyerling. Threatened,

Meyerling pulls out a .380 automatic. Before Eric can do

anything, Meyerling FIRES.

The IMPACT of the bullet throws Corbett against some boxes.

(CONTINUED)

212 CONTINUED: (2)

With a YELL, Eric jumps Meyerling and rips the gun from his

grasp. Enraged, he pummels Meyerling with it until Kenai

and Neff pull them apart. Eric wrenches away from them and

scrambles to his feet with Meyerling's gun in his hand.

ERIC

(continuing)

Anybody moves and I'll shoot!

Holding the .380 on them, Eric crosses to Corbett. Bleeding

from the abdomen, he's trying to stand up.

ERIC

(continuing)

Can you walk?

CORBETT

Wound's a through-and-through.

Missed my liver, I think.

ERIC

Let's get out of here.

Cautiously backing away from the others, Eric helps Corbett

get up and shuffle toward the OS SOUND of the cargo plane.

213 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - AIRSTRIP

Anne Marie jumps down from the cockpit. She and Eric lift

Corbett into the plane.

214 EXT. CARGO PLANE

as it taxis and lifts off.

215 INT. CARGO PLANE - (AERIAL SHOT)

While Eric takes Corbett's handcuffs off, Anne Marie looks

at his wound. He waves her away.

ERIC

How come you didn't let him shoot

me?