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70. Friendly Fire-Eric
- FADE IN
- Caption at bottom screen reads: Baghdad, November 2005.
- A blurry SARGEANT LISKEY is sitting in a wheelchair in a locker room bobbing his head slightly and whistling to himself. He is facing away from PRIVATE JASON STEAGLE; only the back of Liskey's head is visible.
- A hand carries a gun, and swiftly creeps up behind him. The hand puts the gun against the back of his head and pulls the trigger.
- The wall drips red with blood and brain fragments.
- PRIVATE TUCKER OFF SCREEN
- Holy shit...Steagle?
- Private Steagle, a skinny and pale young man with a severly scarred face, sits in an orange jumpsuit on his prison cot. He is alone in his cell which is no larger than a closet. He is writing something on a legal pad.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- In the military, the most tragic war stories sometimes never get told. If nothing else good comes of the war, at least I have the chance to tell of Private Tucker's tragedy, and mine.
- Jason Steagle sits at a computer, typing something on Microsoft Word. Several how-to-write-a-short-story-or-novel books are stacked on his computer desk.
- CRYSTAL pecks him on the cheek.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- Morning Crys.
- CRYSTAL
- I'm going to be late for work, by babe.
- Crystal slings her purse over her shoulder and leaves.
- Steagle's mother, a withered lady, sits behind him in a wheel chair watching television. Her head is kinked to the side; her eyes are lopsided.
- His sister JENNIFER enters the room and hands him a letter. The envelope reads US ARMY. It is post dated August 15, 2005.
- Soldiers scramble around coming to and from the shower; some snap each other with towels near the locker room. Some shave. Others sit at their beds and a few throw a football back and forth.
- Private Steagle and Private Tucker play cards together at a table. Private Tucker is a squat man. A fifth of whiskey sits on the table next to two shot glasses. They each have a small pile of bills on their respective sides of the table, and an ante sits in the middle.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- I met Tucker here in the summer. I was called in during a troop surge and asked to fight a war that I didn't even know was happening. Sometimes I don't think anyone really knows it's happening. Until you land here.
- They light up cigarettes; Steagle lays down an Ace.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- We weren't prepared for the Roulette game called war; maybe no one really ever is.
- Private Tucker takes a shot of whiskey and lays down two Kings. He smiles and scoops up the ante.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- We gravitated toward one another, the same way lonely drunks in a bar seem to sniff out each other's misery.
- OFF SCREEN VOICE
- Post! Post!
- Tucker and Steagle get lost in the crowd of soldiers that surround the Postman. They head back to the table and open their letters.
- Steagle's letter is addressed from Jennifer Steagle, EDEN, VT. 05652.
- The letter reads: Dear Jason, and the right side it is dated August 29, 05'.
- Part of the letter reads: Mom isn't doing very good. I had to put her in St. Anthony's last Sunday...I saw Cyrstal with Michael on my way to the theater the other night. I drove past his house the next day and I saw her car there. She's been with him since you left. I'm sorry to be the one...
- Steagle crumples the letter and tosses it next to the ante pile.
- Tucker folds his carefully and tosses it next to ante pile as well.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- You get a Dear-John letter too?
- Tucker nods.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- Let's blow this joint.
- Steagle and Tucker play electronic gambling machines in a nearly deserted bar. Steagle plays an electronic Roulette game, Tucker plays an electronic black jack game.
- The machine's ball lands on a black 33. The machine makes a high pitched beep, and repeatedely flashes Game Over Insert Coin.
- Steagle pats his pockets and checks them. He turns them inside out but there is no money.
- Tucker's machine makes a similar high pitched noise and displays BUST in big red letters. Tucker mutters.
- Steagle hits his Roulette machine.
- BARKEEP OFF SCREEN
- Cut that shit out!
- Private Jason Steagle and Private Tucker sit in a dark corner, locked in gaze, staring each other down. They take turns taking shots, silently daring the other person to keep up.
- Steagle, Tucker, Sargeant Liskey, CORPORAL ATKINS and the other Privates cruise down a desert road in a Humvee. They stop next to a derelect scrapyard. The grayish wood building is pocked with bullet holes. A sunfaded sign flaps above the building entrance, hanging on for dear life.
- The group exits the vehicle, and uses the building for cover. They take out binoculars and watch children at a schoolyard in the distance. Some children are making a flag, another group tosses a ball back and forth, running to and fro.
- Sargeant Liskey walks around the building and stops at the corner.He unzips his pants. Tucker lowers his binoculars and wipes the profuse sweat from his brow and face with his hand.
- Steagle continues to watch the children. A child dumps a canister of red paint on the flag; the other children chase him.
- A thump is heard. Steagle turns around, a flash and an explosion occur before he can turn all the way around.
- Steagle is on the ground; Tucker has tackled him, shielding him from the blast. Tucker and Steagle yell in agony. Tucker's leg from the knee down dangles from the top by tendons. Gun fire is heard. Corporal Atkins holds his belly and flops over, his face inches from Steagle's. A small hole is in the center of his forehead and blood bellows out of his mouth. His eyes slowly close. Steagle's face is a bloody mess; his left eye is missing.
- SARGEANT LISKEY OFF SCREEN
- Fall out! Fall out!
- Sargeant Liskey and another Private hoist up Tucker and Steagle. Two other privates open fire on the wood building. There is an explosion; the building goes up in flames. They hurry to the Humvee and hightail it out of there.
- Tucker screams. A private pulls out a medic kit and gives him a shot. His screams die down to moans.
- Steagle and tucker lie in beds next to each other. They are hooked up to IV's. Tucker's stump of his left leg is bandaged. Steagle's entire face is bandaged.
- Tucker wimpers softly. A nurse brings a tray with a medicine cup and a plastic cup of water next to Tucker's bed. He hits the tray, knocking the nurse back.
- Steagle wakes up, opening his eyes to the sound of Tucker wimpering. Steagle sighs. Two trays of food have been placed on a fold-out tray on their beds. A pair of crutches lean against the wall next to Tucker's bed.
- Tucker tosses and turns, mutters and wimpers, finally facing away from Steagle. Steagle takes Tucker's tray quietly and places it on a night stand. He wheels the nightstand away from Tucker's bed. Steagle eats his breakfast, and as Tucker wakes Steagle pretends to be sleeping.
- Tucker sees his tray, and inexpertly leans forward, trying to reach it, but it is too far. He grabs a crutch and tries to use it to latch to the nightstand, but he only manages to push it farther. He sighs and stands up, using both crutches. A moment later he crashes to the ground, screaming. The nurses rush to his aid; he bats them away with his crutch.
- Steagle acts like he is waking up. He stands up and hoists up Tucker. The nurses stand back and watch as Steagle pushes the nightstand closer and takes off the tray, putting it on Tucker's foldout tray. The nurses give Tucker and Steagle dirty looks and walk off.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- Hang in there man, two more days we'll be eating pumpking pie and drinking American rum.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- I'm not going back home.
- A nurse walks by and rudely tosses Steagle a letter on his bed and walks off. The letter is addressed from Jennifer Steagle, EDEN, VT. Steagle opens it. The side of the letter reads November 24, 05'.
- JENNIFER VO
- Dear Jason, By the time you get this I will have already buried mom. She died Tuesday. She kept calling your name over and over again. I haven't even cried yet. I can't believe any of this is real...
- Steagle's head flops down; he still holds the letter.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- More bad news?
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- Isn't it always?
- PRIVATE STEAGLE CONT'D
- Let's get the fuck out of here.
- Steagle rips the IV from his arm and finds a wheel chair. He comes back and helps Tucker into it. Steagle rips out Tucker's Iv line andgrabs two prescription bottles from their nightstand. He wheels him out.
- Steagle slams the roulette machine and walks back to the table where Tucker is sitting. His wheelchair is next to the table. There is a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting in the middle of the table and a deck of cards.
- Steagle and Tucker uncap their prescription bottle and pour a few pills into their hands. They swallow them and wash them down with whiskey. Steagle rolls up two cigarettes. He hands one to Tucker and the light up, staring at each other.
- Steagle and Tucker pop another pill and looks out of the window at the orange moon.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- I'm not going back home.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- I know, I understand.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- No, I don't think you do. I'm a bricklayer.
- Tucker looks down at where his leg used to be. Then he places a gun on the table.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- I need you to do something for me.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- Wouldn't morphine be easier?
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- Nope, everyone needs to see this. All those people getting discharged, going home to their wives and kids with both legs, they need to see this.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE
- I'm not going to prison bud. Why do you need me to do it?
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- Because I don't have the balls. I don't even want to see it coming. Maybe we can both do it.
- Steagle shakes his head and looks at the moon, which has become red.
- PRIVATE TUCKER CONT'D
- What do you have left to go back to anyway?
- Jason's mother lies on a bed whispering his name. Her lopsided eyeballs slowly close.
- Steagle slowly unwinds the bandage from around his head. His face is severely disfigured and caked with dry blood. His left eye socket is empty.
- The BARKEEP drops off a full bottle of Jack Daniel's on the table, and flinches when he sees Steagle's face.
- Steagle chews another pill, Tucker follows suit. They wash it down with whiskey. Tucker slides the gun across the table towards Steagle.
- PRIVATE TUCKER
- Tommorow morning.
- The barracks are empty. Steagle wakes up, his face in a pool of his own vomit. Steagle clears the rheum from his eyes. He looks at Tucker's cot, which looks blurry. He rubs his eyes again, but the bluriness reamins. He walks over to the bed which is empty save for a bottle of champagne, a few small, wrapped presents, and a wrapped fruit basket.
- Steagle chuckles. He walks back to his bed and puts on his fatigues. He grabs his gun, checks the cartridge and walks to the locker room.
- Tucker is in his wheelchair, Sargeant Liskey is helping him with a boot. The shower, off screen and around the corner is running.
- Steagle walks back to his cot and sits down. He rolls up a cigarette and lights it. He puffs on it for a little while and walks back to the locker room.
- Steagle carries the gun, and swiftly creeps up behind a blurry Sargeant Liskey. He puts the gun against the back of his head and pulls the trigger.
- The wall drips red with blood and brain fragments. Steagle puts the barrel of the gun in his mouth.
- PRIVATE TUCKER OFF SCREEN
- Holy shit...Steagle?
- The shower stops running. Steagle takes the gun out of his mouth and walks around the corner to the shower.
- Tucker sits naked on a plastic stool under a dripping shower head, his mouth slightly hangs down.
- Steagle is dressed in an orange jumpsuit, writing on a legal pad.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- Later on, I found out Liskey had helped him into the shower. And then playfully commandeered the wheelchair. If I would have just finished him when I had the chance.
- Sargeant Liskey walks out of the shower room and sits in Tucker's wheel chair. He rolls a little bit, trying to do fancy tricks. He whisltes and bobs his head. Steagle creeps up behind him with gun in hand. There is a bang, and then blood and brain splatter on the wall.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- I grapple with the what-ifs every day, if my eye weren't blind, or if my vision weren't blurred from the pills and booze. But debating this can't give Liskey his life back. The only real debate now is when to kill myself.
- Tucker's leg kicks beneath him as he grabs his throat and chokes; a belt it tied around his throat. His crutches tip over.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- My trial is in three days. Tucker hung himself in a walk in closet a couple of months ago.
- Tucker slides a gun across the table toward Steagle.
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- In wartime, every day is just another spin of the loaded chamber. In wartime we are all asked to spin it and pull the trigger, whether we are ready or not.
- There is an explosion, Steagle is lying on the ground. Tucker is lying on top of him; the bottom of his leg dangling.
- There is gunfire. Blood bellows from Corporate Atkin's mouth.
- There is a gunshot, blood and brain fragments drip down the wall.
- An electronic roulette machine makes a high pitched beep and repeatedly flashes Game Over Insert Coin
- PRIVATE STEAGLE VO
- Some are lucky enough to win the game and some are not. These are the stories that sometimes slip through the cracks.
- FADE TO BLACK
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