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?


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