The Fugitive

CUT TO: INT. COURTROOM - DAY
Richard Kimble sits behind the desk, but already he's a shadow of the man we knew before, stares ahead passively as Judge Bennett delivers the sentencing to hushed courtroom.
JUDGE BENNETT: After careful and studied review of all evidence presented during each phase of this proceeding, and because aggravated circumstances, detailed at length, were present the night of January 20th...
Kimble is silent, stunned, but all around him the sentence shockwaves through the courtroom. Reporters push out rear doors. Prosecutors share a look -- w ffb ith a hangman's satisfaction. Nichols, watching behind Kimble's table, lowers his head. Disbelief.
ANGLE ON RICHARD KIMBLE He remains silent. Kimble is pulled gently to his feet by bailiff. Gutherie whispers an "I'm sorry." Kimble doesn't hear it.
JUDGE BENNETT (V.O.): Therefore, it is the decision of this court...
Looks over his shoulder to the emptying courtroom. Faces stare back.

INT. KIT ROOM - DAY
Judge Bennett's V.O. CONTINUES over:
A locker opening. Inside, a profusion of chrome and nickel plating. Jailhouse jewelry. Handcuffs dragged out. Action checked.
JUDGE BENNETT (V.O.): ... that you be remanded to Menard State penitentiary...
CLOSE ON CUFFS slapped down over wrists, ratcheting down tight. Ankle cuffs dragged out. Pant legs raised, canvas shoes exposed. Cuffs clamped down on ankles.
CHAINS RATTLED out. Snaked across the floor. Looped around waists and locked to handcuffs to form belly chains.
JUDGE BENNETT (V.O.): ... where you will serve a sentence of life imprisonment without possibility of parole.
EXT . SALLY PORT (COOK COW TY JAIL) - NIGHT
The chain gang exits through the sally port. Kimble and three other prisoners. Jailers escort them to...
BLUE BULLET-NOSE BUS
An Illinois Department of Corrections guard moves alongside, checking the undercarriage with a pole-mounted mirror.
The GAVEL CRACKS as we -
CUT TO:

INT. BUS - CLOSE ON KEY - DAY
locking wire mesh cage inside bus.
An old DIESEL COUGHS to life.

EXT. COOK COUNTY JAIL - NIGHT
Main gates open. The BUS GRINDS onto the streets.

INT. BUS - DAY
The four prisoners sit scattered, still cuffed but no longer chained together. Near the front, PRISONER #1 is eyeing...
The two prison guards seated beyond the caged door. YOUNG GUARD lighting a smoke. OLD GUARD drowsing. Shotguns bouncing on their knees. Prisoner #1 shifts his gaze to... The driver. Pistol on his hip.

DISSOLVE TO: EXT. DESOLATE HIGHWAY - NIGHT
The BUS RUMBLES north, heading towards the horizon.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Prisoner #1 rises. Through caging:
PRISONER #1: Hey. Illinois penal regulations require a meal for transport rides of four hours or more.
Young Guard shakes his head. "Fucking jailhouse lawyers." Checks his watch: 4:00.
YOUNG GUARD: Jack! Feedin' time.
Old Guard yawns to his feet, unhooks a key-ring from his belt. Young Guard stows his shotgun in the weapons locker.
Prisoner #2 looks at Kimble. Kimble stirs awake... watches the cage door open, Young Guard moving back. And across the aisle...
Prisoner #3, a big man named COPELAND, wags his head between his knees. Something slides out of his shirt and CLANKS to the dimpled steel floor. It's a razor sharp plastic shank.
Heart quickening, Kimble looks forward. Young Guard is handing a petrified sandwich to Prisoner #1. Kimble snaps a look back to Copeland, who palms the shank.
COPELAND: Breathe, and you're first.
Old Guard watches from the open cage door, shotgun carelessly ready. Young Guard reaches Kimble and extends a sandwich. Kimble doesn't respond.
YOUNG GUARD: Suit yourself.
He offers the sandwich to Copeland. In the exchange, sandwich drops. Copeland leans down for it.
Up front, Old Guard yawns again just as...
KIMBLE: Look out!
Too late... Jackknifing up, Copeland drives the shank into Young Guard's gut.
Prisoner #2 dives for Young Guard's holster. As the gun comes out, Young Guard gets a hand on it. A SHOT FIRES...
Jolting Old Guard. He chambers his shotgun. Kimble hits the floor. The Old Guard jams a key into the cage door and surges inside, but...
Prisoner #1 broadsides Old Guard. SHOTGUN DISCHARGES... Opening a big Gainsburger hole in the driver. He sinks under the steering wheel. A knee hits the accelerator.
The CAGE DOOR SLAMS locked behind the Old Guard.

EXT. DESOLATE HIGHWAY - NIGHT
As th ffb e bus careens off the road, accelerating.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Young Guard wrestles gun from Prisoner #2 and FIRES, killing prisoner #2. Copeland grapples with wounded Young Guard. Old Guard shotgun-butts Prisoner #1, flips the gun, PUMPS ONE ROUND into the mants chest. Dead. He turns just as...

EXT. OPEN LAND - NIGHT
As the driverless BUS BUCKS ant BANGS over open ground.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Old Guard reloads. Copeland drops down behind a seat. Old Guard jams his SHOTGUN under the seat. But just as the Old Guard pulls the trigger the bus jerks. The SHOT
goes off target as

EXT. OPEN LAND - NIGHT
The BUS ROARS into a gravel embankment. ROARS up the slope and CRASHES down on its side -- sliding to a stop at the bottom of a small ravine.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
ENGINE DIES. Dusty silence. We don't know up from down.
On his knees, Old Guard makes his way to the driver. Finds him dead. Now a SOUND. Old Guard whips his shotgun around at... Kimble. Rising between the seats. A hairy beat. Old Guard might kill him just to finish things off. But a GROAN turns Old Guard's head. Young Guard, trying to hold his guts in. Old Guart turns to find Kimble.
OLD GUARD: (to Kimble) You. You're a doctor. C'mere.
He slides to the Young Guard as the Old Guard scrounges up a medical kit, shoves Kimble down on Young Guard.
OLD GUARD: Do something
Kimble looks at his cuffs. "In these?" Old Guard digs out his key ring and unlocks Kimble's hands -- only his hands. Kimble opens medical kit. It's been ransacked - just Band-Aids now. Kimble looks into the wound.
KIMBLE: He isn't going to make it unless he gets to a hospital. Fast.
OLD GUARD: In this delicate moment
A SHIVER runs through the bus. Is it just settling? With other things to worry about, Kimble tries to stop Young Guard's bleeding.
ANGLE UNDER SEAT We see Copeland, alive. The crash has ripped the bars
from a back window and shattered the glass. He works to get out the opening.
BACK TO KIMBLE A second SHIVER ripples through the bus, stronger. Kimble retracts his hands to touch a metal panel -- and feels a growing vibration.
KIMBLE: Just where the hell are we?
The Old Guard feels it too. He gets down on his knees and looks out one of the shattered, barred windows.
OLD GUARD: Oh, shit...

EXT. RAILROAD TRACKS - NIGHT
The bus lies across railroad tracks. A not-too-distant bend grows bright by the light of an approaching train.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Kimble sees: Old Guard fights the cage door. Kimble lunges to his side.
KIMBLE: It's locked. Where're your keys?

EXT. RAILROAD TRACKS - NIGHT
Downtrack, one Cyclops light appears.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Kimble spots keys. Pitches them to Old Guard. Drags Young Guard to the front for a quick exit. But Old Guard fumbles the key-ring, his hands shaking as much as the bus.
The train light spider-webs across cracked windows. Kimble snatches the keys away from the Guard's trembling hands.
KIMBLE: Which one? This? This one?!
Old Guard gulps a nod. Kimble jams a key in the lock. Throws the door open. Grabs Young Guard.
KIMBLE: Help me get him -
But Old Guard climbs right over Kimble's back and climbs out the shattered windshield.
ANGLE ON REAR OF BUS
Copeland escapes through the hole in the back...

EXT. BUS - NIGHT
... and hits the ground running the other way. The locomotive's headlight reveals the toppled bus.

INT. BUS - NIGHT
Train light grows. A nanosecond of uncertainty: Should Kimble leave the wounded man? Kimble and the Young Guard hold a look.

EXT. FREIGHT TRAIN - NIGHT
As the WHEELS BRAKE and LOCR.

EXT. RAILROAD TRACKS - NIGHT
Kimble struggles out of the bus -- pulling the Young Guard behind him. He slings the man clear.
SCREECHING death, ffb the TRAIN SKIDS closer.
For one heartbeat, Kimble remains perched atop the bus.
The train light X-rays him.
Kimble leaps. Lands. Rolls. Gains his feet. Tries to sprint away but can't: His feet are still chained. He gets off a dozen mincing steps before
IMPACT: A hundred tons of STEEL SLAMS into the bus, splitting it open.
Shrapnel rips through Kimble's thigh, but he stays on his feet, still running feverish half-steps.
An EXPLOSION envelops the train. Flames stream down its flanks. The train burns past the wounded Guard.
Kimble looks back, expecting to see the catastrophe behind him. But he gets the shock of his life -- of any man's life:
Still on its wheels, the locomotive is derailing -- and coming after him. It's the stuff of nightmares: One little man being chased by a fire-breathing locomotive.
The train burrows to a stop.
Kimble is suddenly five feet taller, standing on an upheaval of earth, staring eyeball-to-eyeball with the train that nearly devoured him. He pants. Coughs on smoke. Then notices something in his hand. It's the key-ring.

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
Kimble sits and searches the key-ring for manacle key. Suddenly a hand reaches down and snatches the key-ring away.
COPELAND (O.S.): Give me that.
Kimble watches as Copeland quickly unlocks both sets of his own chains.
COPELAND: You listen to me. I don't give a damn which way you go, just don't follow me.
Kimble takes the key as Copeland wraps his chains around his arm and runs. Kimble unlocks his leg irons and runs in the other direction -- crossing a hilltop in the moonlight.

DISSOLVE TO: EXT. CRASH SITE (SOUTHERN ILLINOIS) - NIGHT
News and sheriff's department choppers circle billowing smoke. TILT DOWN to reveal the derailed train. Fire engines hose down the blackened locomotive. Rescue workers work feverishly with jaws-of-life to get into the mangled wreckage. Illuminated by spotlights, transportation investigators in blue coveralls pick through the twisted remains of the bus. State troopers restrain spectators.
Two American-made rental cars pull up. Four deputy U.S. marshals emerge:
BIGGS. Swaggering Midwestern carnivore. Built like a brick shithouse.
RENFRO. Bantam-rooster of a man, no more than 140 pounds fully-equipped.
POOLE. Black woman. Nobody minds having her around during nut-cuttin' time.
NEWMAN, a scrub-faced G-5.
From the second car steps GERARD. He takes in the media spectacle.
GERARD: Good lord...
REFRO: What is this... a circus?
As a group they begin moving along the service road above the crash site. Derailed train cars are accortianed below them. They take in the elements of the crash and as they walk each begins to reveal their U.S. Marshal's credentials.
Biggs spots something...
BIGGS: Point of impact.... and branches off.
GERARD: Biggs, your turn to babysit Newman.
BIGGS: Shit (to Newman) Come on.
They drop down to the crash site. Poole ant Renfro remain with Gerard.
A state TROOPER steps into their path, but falls away when he sees Gerard's marshall star.
GERARD: How ya doing? Who's in charge?
TROOPER: Sheriff Rollins. Just follow the lights -
Gerard follows his point to where TV lights illuminate the scene. He shakes his head -- it doesn't please him. Renfro and Poole share a look, they seem to know what's about to happen.
ANGLE - OLD GUARD Seated near a tree. A space blanket draped over his
shoulders. He is surrounded by EMT personnel, and a YOUNG SHERIFF, clearly basking in the event. Television remote news crews are kept only slight back. Gerard appears in the b.g., listening.
OLD GUARD: ... train was bearin' down on us, fast. I don't know how -- it's still kind of hazy -- but I grabbed him and pushed him out of the bus.
SHERIFF: You coulda both been killed.
OLD GUARD: I know, but hell, he's my partner. Woulda done the same for me.
The young Sheriff ffb in charge nods, buying the story. Gerard eases forward, displays his badge, interrupts.
GERARD: Excuse me, Sheriff Rollins? Deputy U.S. Marshal Samuel Gerard.
SHERIFF: (annoyed) I'll be with you in a minute.
The television lights widen to illuminate Gerard. He shields his eyes. The Sheriff opens a file and produces fax-photos of all four prisoners.
SHERIFF: (to Old Guard) For the record. These three dead. And this one...
He switches to a photo of Kimble.
OLD GUARD: Well, everything happened so fast. (BITES LIP, DECIDES) Huh-uh. Don't think he made it.
Sheriff eyes the wreckage that could entomb a hundred prisoners, then files Kimble's fax-photo with the others.
SHERIFF: You get some rest.
He pats the Guard on the shoulder and approaches Gerard.
SHERIFF: Looks like you came a long way for nothing. My mentve already done a thorough search from point of impact and found nothing.
INTERCUT WITH: ANGLE - CULVERT
Biggs and Newman stop by the muddy culvert. Biggs sees something. He orders Newman into the muck after it.
GERARD aware of media, proceeds patiently with the young Sheriff.
GERARD: With all due respect, may I suggest check-points starting at a 15-mile radius on I-57, I-24, Route 13 east of -
SHERIFF: Whoa, whoa, whoa... For what? Prisoners are all dead. The only thing check-points will do is get a lot of good people out here frantic and flood my office with calls.
Gerard finally touches eyeballs with the young Sheriff and we get our first taste of Gerard at close range.
GERARD: (beat) Well, shit, Sheriff, I'd hate for that to happen... So, I'll be taking over the investigation.
SHERIFF: On whose authority?
GERARD: By authority of the Governor of the State of Illinois and the office of the United States Marshal, 5th District Northern Illinois...
Poole produces State and Federal authorization documents from one of her pockets and hands it to the young Sheriff.
SHERIFF: (back-down beat) Okay. You want jurisdiction over this mess, you got it. (to assistants) Shut it down. Wyatt Earp is here to mop up for us.
He slaps the file of fax-photos at Gerard on his way out. Just as Biggs, spotless, eases ino the group with Kimble's manacles. Behind Biggs we see Newman, covered in mud. Seeing the leg irons, the Sheriff and his deputies pile to a stop. Now Gerard takes his run at Old Guard.
GERARD: Please, ladies and gentlemen, step back and give this poor man some room.
Like an obedient dog the press backs off, they sense a change of story and command. Gerard kneels down with Poole and Renfro in front of the Old Guard. The Sheriff hovers near.
GERARD: (friendly, to Old Guard) Always an interesting thing when we find leg irons and no legs in them. Who held the keys, sir?
OLD GUARD: Uh, me.
GERARD: Would you be so kind as to show them to me, sir?
Gerard's large hand extends palm up at the Old Guard. The Old Guard pats his pockets, comes up empty. He eyes the press hovering just out of earshot.
GERARD: Second chance.
Poole reopens the file of photos in front of the man. The Old Guard can't take it -- points to Kimble's photo.
OLD GUARD: (cracking) He mighta got out.
GERARD: Thank you.
SHERIFF: What the hell is this? A minute ago you tell me he's part of the wreckage, now you're -
GERARD: Renfro -- Take that bus apart. I want an accurate body count. Poole -- Set up operations right here.
He stops and looks into the TV lights and starts moving downtrack. The media and State Police move with him like Israelites behind Moses.
GERARD: Ladies and gentlemen... our fugitive's been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground - barring injury is approximately four miles an hour, giving us a radius of six miles. I want a hard-target search of any residence, gas statio ffb n, farmhouse, henhouse, doghouse and outhouse in that area. Check-points go up at 15 miles. (to media) You got that? Good. Now, turn those damn things off and get out of our way.

INT. HELICOPTER - NIGHT
ROARS... just above the treetops. Helicopter speeds up a dark river. Its tracking beam illuminates the river bank.

EXT. RURAL ROADS - NIGHT
Flashing lights. Two highway patrol cars set up roadblocks. The SQUAWK of police RADIOS breaks the rural quiet. A moment later a HELICOPTER ROARS overhead.

EXT. TRACKS - NIGHT
Kimble moves down train tracks. His jumpsuit is wet with blood from the gash. He pauses and checks the wound. He's going to need stitches. Far down the tracks he sees glow of town lights. He keeps moving.

EXT. TRESTLE - DAWN
Kimble crosses a tressel, keeps running toward the direction of the lights.

EXT. JEW K YARD - DAWN
A junk yard by railroad tracks and a road. Signs along the road show we're on the edge of town. One says: Hospital--1/2 mile.
ANGLE - TRACKS AND STREAM
Kimble runs from a streak up to the railroad tracks. As he nears the junk yard and road he sees the hospital sign. He's close but he can't go into the hospital in his prison jumpsuit. He leans against a wrecked car and catches his breath. Just then a tow truck pulling a car on its hook, turns off the road and parks next to the tracks. Kimble ducks for cover behind the wrecked car.
The driver climbs out, dumps his coveralls in the front seat and closes the door.
He moves toward a house across the tracks, then forgets something and returns to the cab. He throws open the door and grabs lunch box off the seat -- and we notice the coveralls missing from the seat.
As the driver returns to the house we MOVE TO the opposite side of the car to find Kimble, ducked beneath the window, clutching the coveralls.

EXT. CRASH SITE - DAWN
A crude headquarters is set up beneath a tent, near the crash site. Maps are laid out on tables. Power and phone lines are pulled down from the lines running along the tracks. Renfro supervises the electronics. Poole handles phones, takes a report from the field and relays it to Gerard.
POOLE: Blood trail found. Two miles southwest.
GERARD: (to Biggs) Type it and match it against all four prisoners. (to Renfro) Renfro, get an I.D. fax on Kimble to every local hospital. (to Newman) Newman...
Newman appears.
NEWMAN: Yes, sir...
GERARD: I need some coffee.
As Newman steps off, everyone turns at sound of SHOUTING from the train crash.
ANGLE - TRAIN CRASH
A RESCUE WORKER shouts up to others.
WORKER: Hey, one's alive!
RURAL HOSPITAL - LOADING DOCK - MORNING
Loading dock outside the E.R. A worker stacks boxes of food outside kitchen entrance. Kimble, in the tow truck operator's coveralls, picks up a box and carries it inside. Once inside he branches off down a hallway.

INT. RURAL HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - MORNING
A door opens on a long hallway. A doctor, child with a bandaged hand, and a mother leave a room and walk TOWARD us. Behind them, Kimble moves down the hall and stops in front of the doorway.
KIMBLE'S POV - MINOR PROCEDURES ROOM

CUT TO: INT. RURAL HOSPITAL - MINOR PROCEDURES ROOM - MORNING
Kimble closes the door and locks it. Hanging on the back of the door we see a doctor's white coat.

EXT. HOSPITAL - MORNING
An Illinois State Trooper's car pulls up outside.
CUT TO: CLOTH-COVERED INSTRUMENT TRAY
On it we see: A packaged sterilized bandage, an opened antiseptic wash, an opened topical anesthetic, and an empty syringe. We PULL BACK to find:
KIMBLE his wound bathed in orange antiseptic wash, three stitches already in. With pair of forceps he picks up the needle as he sutures himself.

CUT TO: INT. HOSPITAL HALLWAY - LONG SHOT (MOS) - MORNING
At far end of the hall we see a STATE TROPE ffb R chatting with a DUTY NURSE at a nurses' station.

CUT TO: INT. PROCEDURE'S ROOM - MORNING
Kimble, his bandage already in place, gives himself a shot of antibiotics.