ARCTIC BLUE

He has a feral nose, thick beard and dark, smart, hunter's

eyes. He wears a hooded cotton sweat shirt, cotton

coveralls and vapor-barrier mountain boots. On his belt is

a holster rig cradling a .44 magnum revolver.

Eric slows down. He didn't expect to face anyone as

formidable as Corbett.

12 INT. / EXT. JEEP

Emboldened by Corbett's presence, LeMalle reaches into the

back seat and grabs his 6.5 by 55 Swedish military carbine.

CORBETT

(to LeMalle)

No shooting. Let's see who's so

interested in us.

Corbett has an incongruously affable voice. He throws his

traps into the jeep, then strides closer toward Eric.

MITCHELL

(to Corbett)

Ain't worth it, Ben...

13 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING - LONG SHOT

As Corbett comes closer, Eric realizes this might not've

been a great idea. Corbett squints his eyes and sniffs the

air, as if by this he can gauge his opponent's mettle.

ERIC

You got two counts against you --

trapping out of season and

poaching on restricted land.

CORBETT

Can't be much of a crime, if all

they got minding the area is a

cocky kid.

ERIC

I got your plate number, asshole.

Maybe you feel like spending a

few months in jail.

Corbett just smiles.

(CONTINUED)

13 CONTINUED:

But LeMalle, rankled, sticks the carbine out the jeep

window.

Seeing the rifle pointed at him, Eric freezes, then slowly

unzips his parka.

LEMALLE

Ben? Sure you don't want me to

drop the fucker?

Corbett doesn't answer. Then, his eyes narrow and he looks

past Eric at the Scout.

CORBETT'S POV

The passenger in the Scout sticks what looks like another

rifle out the window.

BACK TO SCENE

Eric quickly glances over his shoulder to make sure Anne

Marie's backing him up.

ERIC

You leave and don't come back,

that's the end of it.

After a long moment, Corbett smiles again, then turns away

from Eric. He motions LeMalle to the front of the jeep.

Frustrated, LeMalle slams back the safety on the carbine and

throws it in the back seat.

ANGLE ON TRAPPERS

Mitchell climbs into the jeep and starts the engine.

LeMalle and Corbett rock the jeep back and forth in the rut.

While pushing, Corbett rips the sole of his boot on a sharp

piece of granite. He cusses and pushes harder.

14 EXT. HAUL ROAD - CREEK CROSSING

Eric walks back to the Scout. He feels the trappers' eyes

on his back, but forces himself not to hurry.

The trappers free their vehicle. Corbett gets in the

driver's seat, and they take off.

15 INT. SCOUT

Anne Marie's hands are shaking as she pulls the plastic

tranquilizer rifle back in the window.

(CONTINUED)

15 CONTINUED:

ANNE MARIE

(unnerved)

Great idea -- pointing a lousy

dart gun at some nut with a

high-powered hunting rifle.

ERIC

Bastards took off, though, didn't

they?

16 EXT. BOREAL FOREST - LATER THAT DAY

The trappers have left the flatlands of the Haul Road area.

Now their jeep climbs a pathway over the rolling foothills.

17 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP - (MOVING SHOT)

Corbett broods while driving. Mitchell looks out the

window. The silence makes LeMalle uncomfortable.

LEMALLE

All this fuckin' land, and we're

locked out. Makes me puke.

CORBETT

Jawing about it won't change it.

LEMALLE

Three hundred seventy-five

million acres in this state. I'm

real tired of runnin' into

people.

MITCHELL

Then don't look to your left.

18 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP

A brand-new Land Rover is parked on an alluvial fan in a

bend in a small river. Scattered about is an assortment of

expensive camping gear, beer cans, spent shells and other

garbage.

Three toy-macho, vacationing SPORTSMEN are guzzling beer and

BLASTING fish in the shallow river with 12-gauge shotguns.

They look up and glower suspiciously as the jeep slows and

stops.

19 INT. TRAPPERS' JEEP

LeMalle grabs his carbine.

CORBETT

Leave it here.

(CONTINUED)

19 CONTINUED:

MITCHELL

Let's keep going. We're only an

hour from Devil's Cauldron.

CORBETT

(pats Mitchell's shoulder)

Relax. I just want to ask them

how the hunting is.

20 EXT. SPORTSMEN'S CAMP

Corbett gets out of the jeep. He regards the Sportsmen,

their shotguns and their mess with ill-concealed contempt.

The Sportsmen clutch their weapons and watch Corbett. He

walks around the camp, spotting a rubber-lined rucksack

stuffed with dead ermine. After a long, tense moment,

Corbett smiles.

CORBETT

Looks like you've had some luck.

Where's your guide?

SPORTSMAN #1

We're on our own, if it's any of

your damn business.

CORBETT

(re ermine)

You did real good.

He crouches next to the dead animals and strokes the fur.

LEMALLE

(to Corbett)

No swinging shit. They're over

their goddamned limit.

CORBETT

(to Sportsmen)

My friend is right. Supposed to

have a licensed guide when you're

on this land, too.

SPORTSMAN #1

Hey, we paid our fuckin' permit

fees.

LeMalle amuses himself by pissing in their campfire. No one

notices that in the b.g., quiet Sportsman #3 unzips his

parka, exposing a .45 Peacemaker in a belt holster.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED:

SPORTSMAN #2

I were you, I'd drive right on

outta here again. Now.

CORBETT

(calmly)

This was my roaming land, 'til

the government took it over.

Only Innuit can hunt here now,

and tourists, like you.

Corbett swings the rucksack of carcasses onto the hood of

the Land Rover. Pissed, Sportsmen #1 and #2 step closer to

him.

CORBETT

(continuing)

According to tribal law, hunters

passing through the land of

another tribe can only take game

to survive. They can eat the

meat, but have to surrender the

hides.

LeMalle pulls a hunting knife and holds up one of the

ermine.

LEMALLE

Want the meat?

SPORTSMAN #1

Fuck you, dirtball.

Corbett chuckles and Mitchell spits.

WIDER

LeMalle digs through the camping goodies in the back of the

Land Rover, many still in their packages. He helps himself

to some sandwiches and a 12-pack of beer.

LEMALLE

I say shoot 'em, bury 'em with

their shiny new car.

MITCHELL

(to LeMalle)

If you're gonna take something,

take it and let's go.

Corbett looks down to fasten the top of the rucksack.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED: (2)

NEW ANGLE

Suddenly, Sportsman #3 reaches inside his parka and pulls

the pistol. He swings it toward LeMalle.

LeMalle looks up when he hears the HAMMER cock.

There is a deafeningly loud SHOT.

Sportsman #3 falls down dead at LeMalle's feet.

Off to one side, Corbett holds a huge, smoking .44 magnum

six-shooter in his hand.

Shotgun in hand, Sportsman #1 gauges his chances of blasting

Corbett. Nil. When Corbett turns to him, he lies the

weapon down. Sportsman #2 rushes to his friend.

Looking bleak, Mitchell spits again. Corbett crosses to

LeMalle and knocks from his hands the things he wanted to

steal. Chastised, LeMalle smolders. After a moment:

CORBETT

(to Sportsmen)

Put him in your truck. Smell of

blood will attract the bears.

(to trappers)

Let's go.

As Corbett walks to the jeep, he's too angry to notice that

he's stepped in a patch of mud under the Land Rover.

Near the jeep, LeMalle stops and pulls them into a huddle.

LEMALLE

I don't believe in leavin'

witnesses behind, Ben.

MITCHELL

It was self defense. Leave it at

that.

LEMALLE

You think those fucks will tell

it that way?

CORBETT

(ending the argument)

We'll get a head start before

they go crying to the law.

Corbett turns and FIRES two rounds from his .44 into the

engine of the Land Rover. The Sportsmen stare and sputter.

(CONTINUED)

20 CONTINUED: (3)

CORBETT

(continuing; to Sportsmen)

You can pack out of here -- two,

three days' hike along this river

at most. Weather should hold

this early in the season.

Corbett and Mitchell get in their jeep.

LEMALLE

isn't yet satisfied. He walks back over to the Sportsmen,

kneeling beside their fallen friend, and crouches right

beside them. Intimidated, Sportsman #2 looks away, but

LeMalle grabs his chin and turns his face back toward him.

LEMALLE

Think I'm pretty? You better

forget how we look, 'cause next

time they won't keep me from

killing you. This land ain't

quite civilized, you know...

He unsheathes his buck knife. BELOW FRAME, he slices across

the forehead of the dead Sportsman, peels back his scalp and

cuts it loose, Indian-style. The Sportsmen are stunned and

sickened.

ANGLE ON TRAPPERS' JEEP

Corbett looks at Mitchell and wearily shakes his head.

MITCHELL

At least he scalped the dead one.

21 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON - DUSK

Devil's Cauldron Hot Springs is a cluster of twenty tiny

dwellings connected by an unpainted boardwalk. The town

squats, ugly and temporary-looking, in a dirt clearing fifty

miles north of the Arctic Circle. Thirty miles east of the

Pipeline, it's almost dead center of interior Alaska.

At the edge of town is a gravel airstrip. Mixed with the

prospector-era sod-roof cabins are a few prefabricated

houses. The boon brought by men building the pipeline is

long gone. Now only a few itinerant loggers, natives and

bush dwellers remain to fight boredom, each other and the

depression of the oncoming winter.

Enough steam escapes from the hot springs to perpetually

blanket the valley with fog. The spa is log-walled and

horseshoe- shaped, with partitioned baths inside. Facing it

(CONTINUED)

21 CONTINUED:

are a mud-walled fire bath, a wooden steam bath called a

Maqi, six one-room cabins for let, and an unused dance hall.

LEO MEYERLING opens the tailgate of a Dodge truck with the

Northland Petroleum logo and "District Supervisor" on the

door. Meyerling is short and bald with a completely

disreputable face. He staples a poster on a wall. It has a

picture of him on it, and:

LEO MEYERLING

for

State Legislature

VOTE FOR THE PEOPLE'S FRIEND!

22 EXT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE

Corbett and the other trappers drive past Meyerling and park

their jeep as the sun disappears behind the foothills.

23 INT. KENAI'S GENERAL STORE

A handwritten public notice next to a schedule of church

meetings reads: "Live each day so you can look every damn

man in the eye and tell him to go to hell." There is a post

office in the corner with some combination boxes and a

wicketless window.

The trappers come in. Corbett sits in a chair and pulls his

boots off. One of his wool socks is wet. He nods to the

man sitting in the other chair, SAM WILDER. Wilder is short

and tough, with a full head of crewcut grey hair and

weather- ravaged face that makes him look older than his

sixty years.

CORBETT

Hullo, Sam. Slow day?

WILDER

(wary)

Ben...boys. Yeah, real slow, and

I'd like to keep it that way.

CORBETT

(conciliatory)

Just passing through.

A chubby Inupiat (interior Eskimo), wearing thick glasses,

several heavy sweaters and battery-heated socks, fusses

behind the counter. He's EARL KENAI, owner of the hot

springs spa and the general store.

LeMalle chews on a handful of bear jerky. Kenai stares at

LeMalle until he begrudgingly pays for the jerky. Corbett

pulls on some sneakers and hands his boots to Kenai.

(CONTINUED)

23 CONTINUED:

CORBETT

(continuing; re boot)

Needs patching.

KENAI

Twenty-five dollar.

CORBETT

(smiles)

Sure have learned to worship the

white man's god.

Kenai nods agreeably and holds his hand out. Corbett pays

him. Meyerling comes in and posts some fliers on the

corkboard.

MEYERLING

I hope I can count on you

gentlemen to vote for The

People's Friend this November.

CORBETT

Share some of that oil company

money in your pocket and you can.

Meyerling smiles like a toad, then slaps another poster on

the wall. LeMalle throws his knife and it STICKS in the

poster between Meyerling's spread fingers. Meyerling jumps

back and the trappers laugh. Meyerling looks to Wilder for

support.

WILDER

(to Meyerling)

One flier comes loose and I shoot

you for littering.

MEYERLING

(exiting; grudgeless)

Have your fun... just remember

The People's Friend come election

day.

WILDER

(shakes his head)

Oil Company candidate running on

that slogan makes about as much

sense as a rat fucking a

grapefruit.

CORBETT

Hard to work up an interest in

politics, way we live. You're

the first people we've seen in

two weeks.

(CONTINUED)

23 CONTINUED: (2)

LEMALLE

(to Kenai)

How about a quart of Jack

Daniel's?

KENAI

How about it is right. Back in

the primary this town was voted

dry.

LEMALLE

(to Corbett)

Aw, shit. Let's go. Leave a

note for Viking Bob, tell him to

meet us in Cache.

CORBETT

Relax. One more day without

drink won't kill you. Right,

Sam?

WILDER

I'm living proof of that sad

fact.

CORBETT

Can we buy the Marshal some

dinner?

WILDER

No, I better stay at my post.

Even without the hootch riling

'em up, you know how

mean-spirited folks get when they

smell winter coming.

24 EXT. DEVIL'S CAULDRON VALLEY - LONG SHOT - NIGHT

An early STORM has blown in from the north, bringing

whipping winds and freezing rain.

25 INT. RENTAL CABIN