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ALL SCRIPTS





CAST AWAY




















                           CAST AWAY


                              by

                        William Broyles
























                                               THIRD DRAFT

                                               March 13, 1998




FADE IN:

EXT.  MARFA, TEXAS - 1993 - WIDE - DAY

The Texas plains, horizon to horizon, nothing but the browns
and ochres of earth and the blue and violet of the sky.  The
sheer scope of it sinks in:  the blank slate of nature, the
absence of man.  On the screen superimpose:

                    MARFA, TEXAS, 1993.

CREDITS BEGIN.

A plume of dust comes into frame.  The dust is from a TRUCK,
orange and white and violet, with "FedEx" blazoned across the
side.

The truck turns into a collection of ramshackle World War II
era Quonset huts and outbuildings.  Around the outbuildings
are large sculptures of wood and metal.

EXT.  QUONSET HUT - DAY

The door is opened by a WOMAN in her late twenties.  Hair
pulled back, casual, an artist.  She hands the DRIVER a FedEx
BOX which is decorated with a drawing of two ANGEL WINGS.
The Driver has a hand-held computer; a portable printer
dangles from his belt.

The Driver scans the package with his hand-held computer,
prints out a label and sticks it on the Box, ready to go.
But something on the box catches her eye.  She wants it back.
He glances at his watch.  She draws RINGS around the Wings,
uniting them.  She gives the box to the Driver, then hands
him a cup of coffee.  They've done this before.

He takes a sip of the coffee, then runs for the truck.  He
jumps in and heads back onto the plains.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICE - MIDLAND/ODESSA - NIGHT - HOURS LATER

The Driver jams the distinctive Angel Wing Box on top of a
dolly and loads it into a CONTAINER with clear plastic sides.
A female Loader slaps a large bar code label on the
container, scans it, then pulls the container across a belt
of rollers onto a larger truck.  The doors of the truck
close.  The latch slams down.

A forklift hoists the container to the cargo doors of a 737.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT SUPERHUB - NIGHT

The 737 lands.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

One of a seemingly endless line of FedEx planes, our 737
taxis to a gate at the FedEx SUPERHUB.  The Hub is a vast
living organism -- loud, complex, overwhelming, as much a
symbol of modern life as was the factory in Modern Times.

Five thousand people work in a frenzy of interconnected
activity inside three vast hangers brightly lit.  Hundreds of
forklifts and cargo-pullers dart about, their headlights
crisscrossing like a laser show.

Loaders quickly roll the container onto a FORKLIFT.

INT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT

The forklift speeds inside one of the hangers to a LOADING
BELT, where our Box is spilled into a Mississippi River of
packages, HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of them, all shapes and
sizes, from shoe boxes to engine blocks.  Large mechanical
arms divert the immense flow of Workers at dozens of
stations.  The packages surge and move.

The Workers place the packages label-side-up on new belts,
where they're scanned by laser readers.  Picking up speed our
Box is shunted across the acres of interlocking belts.

The Box ends up in a much larger CONTAINER labeled CDG.

EXT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT

A forklift lifts the Container to a door on a giant MD-11.

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT

A jumbled room jammed with computers and dominated by a HUGE
WALL GRAPHIC that charts hundreds of airplanes.  An Operator
moves a yellow strip labeled Jumbo 12 across the board.

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY

SERIES OF SHOTS

The giant place touches down in Paris.  The Angel Wing Box
moves quickly on another belt and disappears into another
CONTAINER, which is loaded onto still another AIRPLANE.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG AIRPORT, RUSSIA - NIGHT

The plane lands.  The container is unloaded down a belt.  We
see our Angel Box.  Directly in front of it is a DENTED BOX.

INT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE, RUSSIA

SERIES OF SHOTS

Night.  The manic activity has come to a dead stop.  Our two
Boxes sit on a table in a corner not far from a small
Christmas tree.

Daylight now.  YURI, a Supervisor, saunters over, picks up
the Angel Box, sees an attractive co-worker, puts it down.

Night again.  A cat walks by the table where our two Boxes
have come to rest.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE - DAY

A FedEx truck pulls out of the warehouse.  The walls of the
warehouse are covered with graffiti.  The streets are slushy,
the buildings blanketed in snow.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG - DAY

The Driver sits in the truck drinking tea.  He takes a last
sip, sighs, gets out with the Angel Box.  Walks slowly toward
an APARTMENT HOUSE.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG APARTMENT HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

A beautiful young RUSSIAN WOMAN opens the door.  A young
AMERICAN MAN comes up behind her, signs the form and takes
the Angel Box.  We see Christmas decorations inside.  The
woman puts her arms around him as the door closes.

                     RUSSIAN WOMAN (O.S.)
               (accented English)
          It's pretty.  Who is it from?

                     AMERICAN MAN (O.S.)
          My wife.

We stay with the Driver as he ambles back toward the truck.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

The Driver has just delivered the Dented Box to ALEKSEI,
Russian Businessman, who closes the door of a Czarist-era
building.  Aleksei checks his watch, picks up the phone.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY

CHUCK NOLAND, early thirties, walks along a line of brightly
colored jitneys, each bearing the FedEx logo.  With him is a
Filipino FedEx SUPERVISOR wearing a guayabera.  Chuck
glistens with a thin layer of sweat.

                     CHUCK
          My guess is we're talking fuel filters
          here, Fernando.  The gas is dirty, these
          jitneys get in the mountains, their
          engines cut out.

                     FERNANDO
          That could lose us half an hour.

                     CHUCK
          Easy.  Each way.

His beeper goes off.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck is on the phone.

                     CHUCK
          So it finally turned up...

Chuck hesitates for a moment, then looks at his watch.

                     CHUCK
          I'll catch the sweep tonight.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Strapped into the jump seat behind the pilots, Chuck sleeps
with a mask over his eyes.  On his lap are some travel
brochures.  We see sailboats, we see the Florida keys.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICES - DAY

Christmas in Russia.  Snow everywhere.  Brightly colored
lights.  Chucks gets out of a Volga with Aleksei.  He has a
bag over his shoulder, the dented package under one arm.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - DAY

The staff has assembled near the loading dock.  Yuri the
station manager stands in front, occasionally catching the
eye of the attractive woman.  Chuck displays the FedEx box.

                     CHUCK
          It took this test package thirty-two
          hours to get from Seattle to St.
          Petersburg, a distance of nine thousand
          miles.  And then it took forty-one hours
          to get from our warehouse in St.
          Petersburg to here, a distance of,
          what --

                     ALEKSEI
          Six kilometers.  Four miles.

                     CHUCK
          So how are we going to get this place
          shaped up?

There's a muttered chorus of answers.

                     CHUCK
          There's only one way.  We have to work
          together.  Every one of us depends on
          everyone else.  If one package is late,
          we are all late.  If one truck misses the
          deadline, we all miss the deadline.
          Let's start by taking a look around.

Chuck leads his team through the sorting area.  Yuri squeezes
right next to him, ostentatiously carrying a clipboard.
Chuck stops.

                     CHUCK
          Here, this table is too far from the
          wall.  Packages can slip down...like...
               (pulls out a package from
                behind a table)
          ...this.

He hefts the package, as if trying to guess what's inside.

                     CHUCK
          What could be in here?  Let's say one of
          you sent it.  Could be the closing papers
          on your dacha, could be a toy for your
          grandson's birthday, could be a kidney to
          keep your mother alive.  I don't think
          you want your mother's kidney to end up
          behind a table.

The Sorter shoves the table against the wall.  Yuri says
something to the Translator.

                     TRANSLATOR
          He says they have been very busy.  It is
          hard to get good employees.  He is sure
          you understand.

Wrong answer:  Chuck glances sharply at Yuri.  Aleksei
appears with a cellular phone.

                     ALEKSEI
          Phone call.  Malaysia.

Chuck takes the phone, opening his BAG as he does so.

                     CHUCK
          Kamal?  Right.  I'm getting them.

He pulls out a set of blueprints and tacks them to a bulletin
board as he talks.

                     CHUCK
          I'm looking at the blueprints of K.L.
          right now.  The belts are too small for
          the sorters.  Yeah, sometimes you never
          see what's right in front of your face.
          Look, it's --

Chuck keeps an eye on what is going on in the warehouse.
Then he notices something over by one of the trucks.

                     CHUCK
               (to a loader)
          Hold it!  Hazardous material needs its
          own container!
               (back on the phone)
          -- three in the afternoon there, right?
          That gives you five hours until the sweep
          comes through.  Do the sort by hand
          tonight, then put in a new feeder belt,
          say a twenty-four incher.  Yes, overtime
          is authorized.

He hangs up the phone.  He turns to the crew.

                     CHUCK
          I'm going out on every route, I'm going
          to work every job here, until I know
          enough to help you.  That's it.

The crew disperses back to work.  Chuck and Aleksei walk
toward the office.  They've done this before.  Chuck lets a
corner of his command persona slip.

                     ALEKSEI
          It's bad.

                     CHUCK
          Worse than Warsaw.

                     ALEKSEI
          Nobody remembers that.

                     CHUCK
          The failures they remember.  It's the
          successes they forget.

EXT.  ST. PETERSBURG - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

A FedEx truck pulls out of the FedEx office.  Chuck is
inside.  He notices the graffiti on the walls.

INT.  TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck rides next to LEV, the driver, a serious sort.  The
Translator squats on some boxes between them, trying to keep
his balance.

                     CHUCK
          You sorted your packages before you left.
          None of the other drivers did.

The Translator and Lev exchange a few words.

                     TRANSLATOR
          He says he wants to be organized.  Do
          packages in order.

Chuck looks at Lev with respect.  Right answer.

                     CHUCK
          So how come the other drivers haven't
          left yet?

The Translator asks Lev, who looks at him as if he is crazy,
then snorts an answer.  The Translator blushes.

                     TRANSLATOR
          He says -- he is a very rude fellow --

                     CHUCK
          Tell me exactly what he said.

                     TRANSLATOR
          He says why don't his farts smell sweet?

Chuck grins.  Lev shrugs and says something else.

                     TRANSLATOR
          He says that's just the way it is.

                     CHUCK
          Lev -- it's Lev, right?  Listen, this is
          FedEx.  We don't have to accept the way
          it is.

EXT.  HOTEL - ST. PETERSBURG

A weary Chuck enters the hotel.  In the sky above him we see
the Northern Lights.  He doesn't even look up.

INT.  HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck is watching CNN on the television, working his
PowerBook, and holding the phone.

                     CHUCK
          No, keep trying.  A circuit's bound to
          open up.

He hangs up.

                     CHUCK
               (to himself)
          Those damn Northern Lights.

Just then the lights go off.  For a moment everything is
darkness.  Then a small light switches on.  Chuck has a
headlamp on.

He gets up, heads into the bathroom.  We stay in the bedroom.
After only a moment, the light reemerges.  It heads over to
his bag.  We go with it.

Chuck takes out a roll of toilet paper.  The guy is prepared
for anything.  He goes into the bathroom, closes the door.

The lights come back on just as the phone rings.

We hear scuffling sounds on the other side of the door.
Chuck charges out, holding up his pants.

Grabs the phone.

                     CHUCK
          Hello?  Great.  Try it.

He waits.  We hear an ANSWERING MACHINE.

                     KELLY (V.O.)
          This is Kelly, leave me a message and
          I'll call you back soon as I can.

This is not what Chuck wanted to hear.

                     CHUCK
          Kelly, damn, look, this is Chuck.  I'm
          going to be a little late.  Well, more
          than a little.  I had to go to Russia.
          Couldn't be helped.  Could you call and
          cancel the trip?  Look, we'll sail the
          Keys in March.  It's better then anyway.
          I'll be back before Christmas.  I
          promise.  I think.  I mean, I will.  I,
          uh --

He's stumbling over whether to say I love you.

                     CHUCK
          I miss you.

He gently hangs up the phone.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - SERIES OF SHOTS

A surprised Yuri stands with the attractive assistant as
Chuck takes his clipboard away.

An even more surprised Lev stands by his truck as Chuck hands
the clipboard to him.

Chuck and the loaders clean off the graffiti.

Working alongside the sorters as the packages come in, Chuck
points out how to organize the inflow.

Chuck and Lev go over large maps of St. Petersburg with the
drivers.

INT.  FEDEX WAREHOUSE - ST. PETERSBURG - WEEK LATER

A big semi is being loaded with outgoing packages for the
airport run.  Aleksei, Chuck, Lev and the office executives
watch as containers are rolled on.

                     LEV
          We've never got all the trucks in on
          time.  Never.

Chucks looks at the clock.

                     CHUCK
          Only one still left?

                     LEV
          Route six.

Aleksei points at the big semi.

                     ALEKSEI
          If we don't send it now we may miss the
          connection in Paris.

The pressure in on.  Chuck looks around at his team.

                     CHUCK
               (to Aleksei)
          Give it five minutes.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

The last truck rolls in.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG

The last truck enters and loading dock.  A few loaders move
toward it.  The executives all stand and watch.  But not
Chuck.  He's hands on.

                     CHUCK
          Let's go.

He heads toward the truck and begins pulling off packages.
All the other executives follow him.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

Led by Chuck, who works like a man possessed, they sort the
packages.

                     CHUCK
          That's Bermuda.  Bermuda is in the
          Memphis thru container.  No, Azores is
          Europe.

He gestures at a closed container.

                     CHUCK
          The Paris container.  Africa too.  Japan
          goes to Memphis.

Chuck is everywhere, setting the example.  The whole office
is energized, working together.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER

They load the last container on the waiting truck.  Chuck
pounds the truck on the side.  Go.

The truck roars out of the loading dock.

Everyone takes a breath.  They are happy, proud.

                     LEV
          We did it.  All of them.

                     CHUCK
          Great job, everyone.  Remember, work
          together.  We are like a hand...

They've heard this before.  Lev holds up his hand just before
Chuck does.

                     LEV
          One finger, weak.  All fingers working
          together, strong.

This makes Chuck smile.

                     CHUCK
          You got it.

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY

A FedEx MD-11 is being loaded with huge containers of
freight.  Chuck goes up the gangway next to the forklifts.

INT.  MD-11 - MOMENTS LATER

The pilots -- JACK and GWEN -- are going down their check
lists.  Chuck sticks his head in the cockpit.

                     CHUCK
          I absolutely, positively, have to get to
          Memphis overnight.

                     JACK
          Can't help you.  Try UPS.

                     CHUCK
          Jack -- gotta be something wrong with our
          physicals, you keep getting certified to
          fly.  Gwen, aren't you worried?

                     GWEN
          Terrified.

                     CHUCK
          We're on time, right?

                     JACK
          On time, Chuck.

Chuck hands Jack and Gwen small packages.

                     CHUCK
          Little present from the emerging
          republics.

Another FedEx Road Warrior named STAN gets on.  He and Chuck
are obviously old hands at this.

                     CHUCK
          What connects the world?  What makes it
          one?
               (they ignore him)
          We do.  FedEx.

                     GWEN
          You are such a lifer.

                     STAN
          What do you expect, from the guy who
          stole a kid's bicycle when his truck
          broke down?

                     CHUCK
          Borrowed.  I borrowed it.

The two of them strap in.

                     STAN
          How'd it go?

                     CHUCK
          Great.  Terrific.  The good guys won one
          for a change.

He's finished a tough job.  He's relaxed and on his way home.
But Stan's his boss, and Stan's got bad news.

                     STAN
          I had to bump your plane last night.

Chuck can't believe it.

                     CHUCK
          You what?

                     STAN
          It was fifteen minutes late.

The plane begins to taxi.

                     CHUCK
          I checked the weather, you had the jet
          stream, you could have made it up.

                     STAN
          But I might not have.

                     CHUCK
          Jesus.  I got it working... You have no
          idea how hard it was... They're finally a
          team...

                     STAN
          I'm touched.

                     CHUCK
          You fucked us over.

                     STAN
          The point of FedEx, as I understand it,
          is to make the damn connection.

                     CHUCK
          I was making a point.

                     STAN
          What?  Let Paris hold its plane?  Let
          Memphis take care of it?  Let somebody
          down the line clean up your mess?

                     CHUCK
          Every person counts, every package
          counts, that's my point.

                     STAN
          You know what your problem is?  You just
          see the packages in front of you.  You
          don't see the big picture.

                     CHUCK
          Baloney.  I do see the damn "big
          picture."

EXT.  CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - NIGHT

The MD-11 takes off.

INT.  MD-11 - NIGHT

Chuck is focused on his PowerBook with the screen away from
us, Stan is doing tai chi amidst the FedEx containers.  It
feels a little surreal, all those containers surrounding
them.

Stan comes over, looks at the image on the computer.  It's a
sailboat with some technical specifications under it.

                     STAN
          I didn't know we had sailboats.

                     CHUCK
          It's a ketch Kelly and I had chartered.

                     STAN
          For all those vacation days you got
          coming.

Chuck doesn't look up.

                     CHUCK
          And never take.

                     STAN
          Look, I'm sorry about your plane.  But I
          couldn't risk being late into Memphis.

                     CHUCK
          Forget it.

                     STAN
          You know General McLelland, he wouldn't
          attack unless he had everything just
          right.  Finally Abe Lincoln came to him
          and said, General, if you're not going to
          use my army, could I borrow it for a
          while?  So he gave it to Grant and Grant
          just said, let's go.

                     CHUCK
          I'm from Arkansas.  Tell me a story with
          Robert E. Lee in it and maybe I'll pay
          attention.

                     STAN
          We're warriors, not desk jockeys.  We've
          got to be bold.  You always want all your
          ducks lined up.  But nothing's 100
          percent.  It's always 60-40, maybe 51-49.
          Hell, I'd take 40-60.  Then roll the
          dice.

                     CHUCK
          That's why you're a gambling man.

                     STAN
          That's why I'm running foreign and you're
          not.  That's why you're not married and I
          am.

                     CHUCK
          For the third time.

                     STAN
          Take the plunge, admit your mistakes,
          move on to tomorrow.  That's FedEx,
          that's women, that's life.

Stan is so outrageous, Chuck can't help but laugh.

                     CHUCK
          You are one sick fucker.

                     STAN
          I'm trying to help you here.  There's
          Warsaw, there's this --

                     CHUCK
          This was nothing like Warsaw.  I held the
          truck then minutes, it's not that big a
          deal.

But apparently it is.

                     STAN
          Look, that kids' bike, that's a guy
          who'll do what it takes to get there on
          time.  Live up to your legend, that's all
          I'm saying.

Chuck reaches in his pocket, pulls out a bill.

                     CHUCK
          A hundred rubles St. Petersburg hits 95
          percent in a month.

                     STAN
          Ninety five percent?  Just give me the
          money now.

                     CHUCK
          Talk is cheap.  Are we on or not?

                     STAN
          We're on.

Chuck closes the PowerBook.

                     CHUCK
          Let's go off-line.

They both take out their Valium -- the price they pay for
being such road warriors.

                     CHUCK
          Two Valium...

Stan puts on his Walkman.

                     STAN
          And the Stones.  Got to be.

It's their ritual.  Chuck puts headphones from his Walkman
over his ears, puts a mask over his eyes and leans his head
back onto the headrest.  We hear the Rolling Stones.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT - WIDE

The MD-11 arrives at its gate.  The cargo doors open.
Forklifts and a gangway roll up to the side.

INT.  MD-11 - NIGHT

Stan stands smiling over Chuck.

                     STAN
          Chuck.  Wake up Chuck.

Chuck pulls off the mask, takes out the earplugs.  He manages
a groggy grin.

                     STAN
          You gotta do your own delivery from here.

INT.  SUPERHUB - NIGHT

Chuck walks through the extraordinary nexus of speeding
packages that intersect in intricate paths above and around
him.  This is the beating center of the FedEx world, the
crossroads, the deep core where everything connects.  In his
still-drugged state it all seems weirdly psychedelic.  A
Christmas tree goes by, then a huge plastic Santa Claus, both
with shipping labels.

EXT.  CHICKASAW GARDENS - MEMPHIS - NIGHT

Chuck's car pulls into the driveway of a small cottage in an
older Memphis neighborhood.  The radio is playing the news.

INT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck drops his briefcase and his bag.  The place is a jumble
of clothes, papers, books, etc.  In the living room is a tank
of tropical fish.  The water looks a little green.  No
bubbles are coming from the filter.

Uh oh.

Chuck walks to the tank.  He tightens a piece of tape that
holds the power cord onto the filter, taps the filter with
his finger, once, twice...the bubbles start again.

                     CHUCK
          Damn thing.

But for a couple of fish floating on top of the tank it's too
late.

Chuck gets out his scoop and slowly skims them off.

                     CHUCK
          Sorry, I'm really sorry.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - BACK YARD

Chuck digs a small hole in the back yard with a large kitchen
spoon.

Drops the dead fish in.

Fills the hole.

INT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - LATER

The CD is playing.  Chuck lies in bed, switches on the TV.
This is no good.  He doesn't care how late it is, he's going
to find Kelly.

EXT.  MEMPHIS - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck drives in his car through the streets of Memphis.

EXT.  UNIVERSITY - NIGHT

Chuck pulls up to a lab building at Memphis State.

INT.  LAB - NIGHT

Two doctoral candidates are playing Doom on their computers
when Chuck walks in.

                     CHUCK
          You seen Kelly Frears?

One of them gestures toward a door.

                     GUY
          Xerox machine.

INT.  HALLWAY - NIGHT

Chuck makes his way in the semi-darkness past rack after rack
of specimens in bottles.

Ahead of him we see the flashing green light of a Xerox
machine.

INT.  XEROX ROOM

The light goes off.  KELLY leans over the machine, bangs on
it.

                     KELLY
          Sonofabitch!

                     CHUCK
          Hey, be nice to it, it'll be nice to you.

Surprised, Kelly turns to greet Chuck.

                     KELLY
          Chuck!  You're back!

She leaps into his arms.

                     KELLY
          Your eyes are puffy.  Did you take Valium
          again?

                     CHUCK
          You smell like formaldehyde.

Kelly looks over at the Xerox.

                     KELLY
          My last chapter's in there, and the damn
          machine's jammed.

                     CHUCK
          Let's take a look.

He lifts up the cover.

                     KELLY
          How was Russia?

                     CHUCK
          Cold.

                     KELLY
          Don't overwhelm me with details, you know
          how I hate that.  Did you get it fixed?

                     CHUCK
          I thought I did.

He pries up one feeder, then another.

                     CHUCK
          Got to follow the paper path here.

                     KELLY
          Chuck, forget the Xerox.  So Russia
          didn't turn out well?

But Chuck doesn't want to talk.  He's focused on the machine.

                     CHUCK
          Used to you could fix these yourself.

She pulls him out of the machine.  He has toner on his
fingers.

                     KELLY
          Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          What do you want me to say?  That I
          thought I'd done a great job but it all
          turned to shit?  That I might as well
          have gone sailing for all the good I did?

                     KELLY
          Yeah, tell me.  Tell me all of it.

He suddenly looks really tired.

                     KELLY
          You don't even know what time it is.
          What day it is.

He turns to the Xerox in frustration.

                     CHUCK
          And I can't fix this damn machine.

She looks at him.

                     KELLY
          Come on.

INT.  KELLY'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

A tiny cubicle with a door.  She closes it, takes some paper
towels out of the desk, wipes his fingers.

                     KELLY
          We're on the deck of the ketch, the air's
          soft, the water's clear as crystal...

She licks the last bit of toner off his fingers.

                     CHUCK
          That's carcinogenic.

She ignores that, stays with the fantasy.

                     KELLY
          We're covered with suntan lotion and
          sweat.  Our skin is so hot, it's
          glowing...

And she comes closer to him.

                     KELLY
          We could take a swim.

She's really close now.

                     CHUCK
          On the other hand we could not take a
          swim...

They squiggle themselves onto the desk.

INT.  LAB - NIGHT

Someone kicks the door shut.  Now the figures are in
silhouette, lit by the light in the office.

And then the light goes out.

EXT.  FEDEX OFFICES - NEXT MORNING

A nondescript office park near the airport.  No sign.
Chuck's car screeches into the parking lot.  He jumps out,
glances at this watch, and heads for the building at a run.

INT.  EXECUTIVE CONFERENCE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

A large room dominated by an animated MAP OF THE WORLD.
Lights at various locations blink and flash.  Above the map
are a large Sign saying "Here Today, Gone Tomorrow" and two
huge digital Clocks -- one keeping time, the other a
countdown clock for that day's package sort at the SuperHub.

The operations team of FedEx sits around a large table.  Each
has on a headset.  BECCA TWIGG, the business-like senior vice
president of Operations, addresses questions to a man --
COLIN PARKER-BOWLES, the European operations manager -- on a
LARGE TV SCREEN in front of her.  "London" is superimposed on
the screen.

                     BECCA
          So why was Milan late, Colin?

                     COLIN
          One of the race horses coming from
          Ireland got colic and had to be off-
          loaded in Brussels.  That put the Jumbo
          15, six hours late into Charles De
          Gaulle.  Customs had difficulty locating
          the dutiable items...

Colin continues as Chuck, out of breath, slips under the
screen and heads for the one remaining vacant seat -- across
from Stan.  Next to Stan is MAYNARD GRAHAM, an MBA systems
man.  Becca addresses a question over to Stan.

                     BECCA
          Stan, can we get P&A down to work with
          Milan customs?

                     STAN
          We're already on it.

                     BECCA
          Good.  And let's look at our live animal
          policy.  I don't think the income stream
          justifies delaying IP product, especially
          at Christmas.

Colin disappears.  A red light goes on.  Becca pushes a
button.  Another face comes on the screen.  "Oakland" appears
under the face.

                     BECCA
          Stand by, Benson, we're still wrapping up
          foreign.

She turns pointedly to Chuck.

                     BECCA
          Chuck, thanks for joining us.  Status?

Chuck swallows nervously, tries to talk matter-of-factly.

                     CHUCK
          Becca, as you know St. Petersburg was
          consistently running late by six to ten
          hours -- sometimes a full day or more.  I
          replaced the station manager.  We
          identified inefficiencies and worked out
          a quality improvement plan I believe can
          be met.

                     MAYNARD
          You replaced the station manager with a
          driver.  A local with no knowledge of our
          systems.

                     BECCA
          Shouldn't you have brought in someone
          from Memphis?  Russia is priority one.

                     MAYNARD
          James Pottinger is available.

The process is being ripped out of Chuck's hands.  He
struggles to get an answer.

                     STAN
          He's a numbers cruncher.  Chuck's done
          all the right things here...

Stan is doing his best to back up Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          Jim's a terrific financial man, no
          question.  But we can't always parachute
          in from Memphis.  We've got to build up
          our local staff.

                     MAYNARD
          We've got to improve foreign on-time,
          that's what we've got to do.  If this new
          guy's so good, how come the very first
          plane he sent missed the connection in
          Paris?

Maynard knows how to go for the jugular.  Everyone looks at
Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          We're building a new team here.  We got
          every package on the truck for the first
          time ever.  Success is the best teacher.

                     MAYNARD
          I don't call missing the plane a success.

Everyone looks at Chuck.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - LATE THAT AFTERNOON

Chuck lugs a big package up to the door, knocks on it.  Kelly
opens the door.

                     KELLY
          Merry Christmas eve.

                     CHUCK
          Not if you work for FedEx.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY

Chuck enters as they keep talking.  Her house is cozy but
also where she works.  There's a computer, specimen jars, and
some terrariums with frogs inside.  A Christmas tree with
packages under it.

                     KELLY
          You break four million packages last
          night?

In the b.g. one of the packages by the Christmas tree is
starting to shake on its own.

                     CHUCK
          Four four.  A record.

                     KELLY
          You don't seem too happy about it.

                     CHUCK
          Ah, the staff meeting could have gone
          better.

                     KELLY
          Let me guess, Russia came up?

Chuck's attention goes to the tree.

                     CHUCK
          One of those packages just moved.

The package turns over, something darts out.  It's a puppy,
with a bow around its neck.

                     KELLY
          Merry Christmas.

Chuck bends down to see the puppy.

                     CHUCK
          Hey, look at you.

                     KELLY
          I figure, if we could take care of a
          puppy, we could, you know, take care
          of --

A baby, she wants to say, but that's going a little fast so
she catches herself.  Chuck picks the puppy up.

                     CHUCK
          He is a cute thing.

                     KELLY
          He's your cute thing.

                     CHUCK
          I can't even keep fish alive.

                     KELLY
          A puppy's got a little more personality
          than a fish.

                     CHUCK
          And for you --

Chuck hands over his present.

                     KELLY
          So do good things come in large packages?

Kelly opens Chuck's present -- a very large box.

It's a piece of luggage.

                     CHUCK
          You know, for when you travel.

                     KELLY
          For when I travel?

She can't believe it.  It's the exact opposite of what she
wanted.

                     KELLY
          You should have got me something that
          shows you want us to be together, not
          apart.

Chuck is flummoxed.  Women read so much into things.

                     CHUCK
          I wasn't sending a message.  I though
          you'd like it.

Chuck's beeper goes off.

                     KELLY
          You should have got me a ring.

He checks the number.

                     CHUCK
          I have to go.  I'm on call for overflow
          down at the Hub.

                     KELLY
          A ring.  I wanted a ring.

                     CHUCK
          You did?

She nods.  What to do?

                     CHUCK
          Look, I love the puppy.  I love you.  But
          I have to go.

                     KELLY
          You can't go now.

                     CHUCK
          I have to.

                     KELLY
          You want to.

Chuck picks up the puppy.

                     CHUCK
          What should we call him?  Or is it her?
          How about Jango?

Kelly is having one of those moments when everything comes
clear.

                     KELLY
          This isn't working out.

                     CHUCK
          We're a little emotional here.  It's
          Christmas, maybe we're over-reacting.

                     KELLY
          "We're" not over-reacting.

                     CHUCK
          Could you watch Jango?

                     KELLY
          No.

                     CHUCK
          I can't take him to work.

He hands her the puppy.

                     CHUCK
          We'll talk about it when I come back.
          It'll all be fine.  Really.

This is not a happy woman he is leaving behind.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - HOUSE LATER

It's dark now.  Chuck returns.  The stars are putting on an
amazing show, but he doesn't notice as he heads for the door.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER

Chuck enters.  The tree and the presents under it are gone.

                     CHUCK
          Kelly?  Kelly?

No answer, nothing but the sound of Jango, who begins yelping
in the kitchen.

INT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck picks up Jango, who is barricaded in the kitchen with
some food, some water, and some wet newspapers.

                     CHUCK
          There.  There.  Easy now.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - BACK YARD - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

Holding Jango, Chuck walks out into the back yard.

                     CHUCK
          Kelly?

A fire still smolders.  The packages have burned.  The tree
is a blackened mess.

Chuck stares at it.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - NEXT MORNING

Chuck gets into his car, puts Jango on the front seat next to
him.  Pulls out of the driveway.

EXT.  ARKANSAS HIGHWAY - DAY

Chuck is in his car, with the dog on his lap.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

Chuck's car drives up to a typical Arkansas farm house.  His
MOM is setting some Christmas tree lights around the door.
Chuck gets out of the car.  There's a large wet spot on the
front of his pants.

                     MOM
          What happened to your pants?

                     CHUCK
          Mom, meet Jango.

Chuck displays the puppy.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - SHED - DAY

Chuck works on an old tractor in the shed.  Some small legs
appear in his vision, then a small face.  This is AMANDA, his
niece.

                     AMANDA
          Dinner's ready.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

Around the table are Chuck's brother ROGER, his wife MARY,
Amanda, and her TWO BROTHERS.  Mom brings in the turkey,
places it on the table, sits down.  They all hold hands and
bow their heads.

                     MOM
          Chuck?

Chuck hesitates just a moment.

                     CHUCK
          Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts,
          which we are about to receive, from thou
          bounty, through Christ the Lord.  Amen.

                     ROGER
          Let's eat.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY

The children burst out the door, shrieking, chased by Jango.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

The grown-ups are cleaning up after Christmas dinner.  The
scene moves between the table, the kitchen counter, and the
refrigerator.  It's an old-fashioned kitchen, simply
furnished.

                     MARY
          How's Kelly?

                     CHUCK
          Great.

                     ROGER
          Thought you were going to bring her.

                     CHUCK
          So did I.

                     MOM
          It seemed like she had such a good time
          last time.

                     CHUCK
          It's nothing you did, Mom, believe me.

                     MARY
          Jennifer's still down at the post office.
          And she's still got that crush on you.

                     ROGER
          And she's still got those --

                     MARY
          Roger.

                     ROGER
          You should have stuck around.

This is an old, sore subject.

                     CHUCK
          Look, I help take care of the place.  You
          got my check, didn't you Mom?

                     MOM
          That new roof, that's your doing.

                     ROGER
          You're just allergic to farming, that's
          what dad said.  Can't stand to be alone.
          Can't stand to be in one place.  Can't
          stand the sight of...blood.

He drops the turkey giblets into the trash.

                     MARY
          Roger's going to put chickens in here.

Chuck can't believe this.

                     CHUCK
          Come on Roger, this is dad all over
          again.  You already did beefalo,
          chinchillas, and what was that, ostrich?
          They chased Mom around the yard, sprained
          her hip.

Mom goes to the freezer and takes out some frozen
strawberries.

                     MOM
          It wasn't that bad, dear.

                     MARY
          You can't make a living out of this
          place.  We tried.

                     CHUCK
          But chickens?

                     ROGER
          Sixty three pounds consumed per capita,
          up from twenty seven in 1960.  Going to
          pass beef.  Chicken's global.  No
          religious taboos.  You don't see your
          Hindus and your Muslims boycotting
          poultry.

                     CHUCK
          True enough.  No sacred chickens nowhere,
          so far as I know.

                     MOM
          Roger's working at Tyson's now.

Mom mashes the block of frozen strawberries with a fork to
separate the strawberries from the ice.

                     CHUCK
          Really?

                     ROGER
          Come on down to the plant.  It's state of
          the art.  We're doing for chickens what
          FedEx did for the delivery business.

                     CHUCK
          Just don't count 'em before they hatch.

Roger grins at him.  This is just how they are.

                     ROGER
          I'll try to remember that.

                     MOM
          Dessert.

They all sit down.  Mom brings the slushy frozen strawberries
to the table, squirts on some Reddi-whip.  Looks pointedly at
Chuck.

                     MOM
          Speaking of hatching, I could sure use
          some more grandchildren.

Not a timely topic with Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          Mom, this is a farm.  We've got real
          strawberries growing outside, we've got
          real cream.

                     MOM
          Oh no, the prodigal son's home.  We bring
          out the store bought.

Chuck takes a bite, winces a little as the cold strawberries
hit his teeth.

EXT.  MOM'S HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck fixes the drain pipe while Mom prunes the rose bushes
around the porch.

                     CHUCK
          Maybe I should take a few days off.
          Roger's working now, you could use some
          help around here...

                     MOM
          Don't you even think about it.

                     CHUCK
          The place is falling apart.

                     MOM
          I'm doing fine.

She looks pointedly at Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          Doing great, Mom, don't worry about me.

                     MOM
          There's settled folks, and there's
          nomads.  You're just not a settled folk.
          You never belonged here.

Chuck finishes the drain pipe.  Gives it a thunk with his
finger.

                     CHUCK
          Come on inside, Mom.  You've had a long
          day.

INT.  FARM HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT

In his boyhood room, we see Chuck's laptop, which is hooked
up to the internet FedEx homepage.  All around him are models
of boats and planes, maps, pictures of far-off places.  The
room of a boy who always fantasized about getting away.

Chuck is beside it, slumped down on the desk.  Asleep.

EXT.  FARM HOUSE - DAY

His mom waves to him as Chuck drives away.

INT.  FEDEX OFFICE - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck enters his office, on the go.  His assistant LESLIE is
waiting for him.

                     CHUCK
          I need the latest PDRs on St. Petersburg.

                     LESLIE
          And how was your Christmas?

                     CHUCK
          Terrific.  Yours?

She nods, used to this.

                     CHUCK
          And get me in to the dentist.  My tooth's
          acting up.

Stan enters.

                     STAN
          Malaysia's tanking.  We're meeting in ten
          in operations.

                     CHUCK
          Right.
               (to Leslie)
          Get me everything on Indonesia, New
          Guinea, all the way to Australia.

INT.  OPERATIONS ROOM - MINUTES LATER

Chuck, Leslie, Stan and another executive from the meeting
named DICK are gathered around the TV screen.  A squawk box
is on the table.

                     CHUCK
          Kamal?  Kamal?  Can you hear us?

The box squawks.  The TV screen rolls an imperfect image.

                     DICK
          Can't we get this working?

A Technician is fiddling with the TV set.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Trying.

                     CHUCK
          Kamal, you're breaking up.  Can you hear
          us?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
          Kamal is not here.

                     CHUCK
          Who is this?  Where is Kamal?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
          It is Ibrim, I, I am a sorter.

                     CHUCK
          What's going on down there?

                     VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
          Kamal is not here.  We are very defused.

                     CHUCK
          Who's in charge then, where is Chinn?

The squawk box hums and crackles.  Nothing.  Chuck turns to
the Technician.

                     STAN
          We got Telex, e-mail?

                     TECHNICIAN
          Sure.  Just not getting any answers.

Chuck turns to Leslie.

                     CHUCK
          When's the next Jumbo?

                     LESLIE
          The regular flight is scheduled for oh
          three hundred tomorrow.

                     CHUCK
          Anything else?

                     LESLIE
          There's a sweep leaving Memphis in an
          hour, goes through Sydney.

                     STAN
          Maybe you should get your ducks lined up
          first.

Chuck looks over at Stan.

                     CHUCK
          Call Operations.  Get me on it.

And Stan is impressed.

EXT.  CHUCK'S HOUSE - DAY

Chuck leaves with his bag over his shoulder and the puppy
under his arm.

EXT.  KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - MINUTES LATER

Kelly opens the door.  Chuck is there with the puppy.

                     KELLY
          That's your dog.

                     CHUCK
          It's our dog.  It belongs to us.

                     KELLY
          There isn't any us.

                     CHUCK
          Yes there is.

Kelly can't stay mad.

                     KELLY
          I'm sorry about the presents.  I got a
          little carried away.

                     CHUCK
          No, it was great.  Maybe a little
          overkill --

                     KELLY
          I burned the Christmas tree.

She's half-laughing, half-wanting-to-cry.

                     KELLY
          Why didn't you come over, get mad at me,
          tell me what a stupid bitch I was.

                     CHUCK
          I guess I hadn't thought through how I
          felt.

                     KELLY
          What, you were going to come over the
          next day all calm and say, Kelly that
          really made me mad?  Don't tell me you're
          mad.  Be mad.  Be who you are right now.

                     CHUCK
          Look, we'll do our trip as soon as I get
          back.

                     KELLY
          Don't even start.

And then it hits her.

                     KELLY
          Get back?  From where?

                     CHUCK
          Malaysia.  They're holding the sweep.

She stares at him for a long moment, then at the puppy.

                     KELLY
          Give him to me.

He hands her the dog.

                     KELLY
          Chuck, you're breaking my heart.

                     CHUCK
          A week, max.  Okay?  Okay?

                     KELLY
          Go on.  We'll be fine.  I'll feed Jango
          to the frogs.

She kisses the puppy.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck enters the cockpit, where two different pilots are
going through their checklists.  Chuck repeats his familiar
patter.

                     CHUCK
          Al -- gotta be something wrong with our
          physicals, you keep getting certified to
          fly.  John, aren't you worried?

                     JOHN
          I disconnected his controls.  He only
          thinks he's flying.

Chuck settles into his seat.

                     CHUCK
          You're on your way home, Al?

Al has an Australian accent.

                     AL
          Right.  Down home, down under.

                     CHUCK
          We're on time, right?

                     AL
          On time, Chuck.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT - HOURS LATER

Settled into the jump seat, Chuck finishes up his notes on
his PowerBook and begins his flight ritual.

He puts in his ear plugs and takes out his Valium.  He
swallows one, then thinks, and swallows two more.  Then he
turns on his Walkman to the Rolling Stones, puts the mask
over his eyes, and, as usual, goes to sleep.

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

The plane is SHAKING badly.  HEAR frantic, garbled radio
talk.  Chuck stirs, struggles to his feet, drowsy and
drugged.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV

Everything is hazy, out of focus, as it was in his earlier
drugged condition.  But this is real haze.  SMOKE.  And the
cabin also TWISTS and TILTS.

Chuck tries to steady himself against the wall.  This is
nightmarish.  Is this really happening?

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV - COCKPIT

The pilots wrestle with the controls.  They have their life
jackets on.  John glances back at Chuck, his face floating in
a cloud of fear.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck struggles to put on his life jacket.  The plane is
VIBRATING VIOLENTLY.  He can't get the straps straight.  He
is KNOCKED against one wall, then another, then to the floor.

Chuck tries to blow on the mouth tubes for his life jacket.
Can't do it!  Puff.  Puff.  Shit!  John motions frantically
for Chuck to pull on the automatic inflators on his jacket.
Chuck fumbles for them.

Huge palettes shift and groan, one BREAKS FREE, banging
violently against the side of the plane, spilling out its
boxes.  Then it swings and KNOCKS Chuck on the head!  He goes
down!

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER

A CONTROLLER mans the global operations desk.  His SUPERVISOR
stands behind him, sipping some coffee.  The mood is eerily
calm.  An assistant moves Plane Locator Cards on a giant
board.

                     CONTROLLER
          Jumbo 14 is overdue in Sector K.

                     SUPERVISOR
          Where are they?

Another CONTROLLER tracks a giant computer screen.

                     CONTROLLER 2
          Somewhere east of Port Moresby.  Guam is
          getting a signal but no location.  Maybe
          the GPS is out.

The signal flashes, but is strangely still compared to the
others, which are moving.

EXT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

The giant plane PLUMMETS down from the sky.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck is semi-conscious and bleeding from the head.  John
pulls the inflators on Chuck's life jacket, which fills with
a WHOOSH!, sending Chuck's arms out to the sides.  Al
struggles with the LIFE RAFT.  It's all blurred, frantic,
terrifying.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER

The plane hits the ocean with a CRASH and a WAVE of water.

INT.  GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER

The Controller is speaking mechanically into the microphone.

                     CONTROLLER
          Guam, I need a fix on Jumbo 14.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT

Shrouded with fog and surrounded by debris, the tail of the
big plane slowly SINKS beneath the angry, storm-driven waves.

EXT.  PACIFIC - DAY

A life raft is tossed on dark, storm-driven seas.  Inside it,
semi-conscious, Chuck hangs on.

EXT.  PACIFIC - NIGHT

We catch glimpses of the yellow lift raft in the dark as the
storm continues.

EXT.  BEACH - EARLY MORNING

The storm has ended.  Waves lap gently on a beach cut like a
scallop out of a rocky shore.  On the beach we see scattered
FEDEX BOXES.  And we see, face-down, half-buried in sand, a
MAN IN A SUIT and a life jacket.

Chuck.

The tide gently rocks him, laps at his face.  He chokes.
Slowly he gets to his knees.  Vomits seawater, big heaves.
He rolls over, sits down.  Dazed.  Still confused.  Where am
I?  What happened?

Chuck's first instinct is to check the time.  He looks at his
watch, taps it in frustration.

Then he looks around, and we look with him.

CHUCK'S POV - BEACH

The fog has thinned.  We can see palm groves and mangrove
thickets leading back into a thickly wooded valley climbing
up a steep, rocky hillside.  The rocks on the opposite point
end in a barren ridge.  Clouds hide the top of the hill.

ON CHUCK

as he takes in his surroundings.  He licks his lips.  He's
thirsty.  But something he sees is even more important.  We
stay with him as he WALKS.  He comes to a FEDEX PACKAGE in
the sand, picks it up, brushes off the sand, walks farther.
He picks up another package.

EXT.  BEACH - WIDE

Chuck walks down the beach, picking up FedEx packages,
leaving a trail of footprints in the sand.  Ahead of him we
notice a package decorated with ANGEL WINGS.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT MORNING

Chuck has made a neat stack of FedEx boxes under some palm
trees at the rim of the beach.  He examines the Angel Wing
drawing with passing curiosity, then puts it on the stack.

Chuck takes off his life jacket, sits down in the shade,
makes himself comfortable, and waits.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck is still waiting.  He's a systems man, and the system
isn't working.

                     CHUCK
          All right, guys.  I'm here.  Check the
          GPS, get moving.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

The full moon shines a ghostly light on the beach.  Trees
cast moon-shadows on the sand.  Chuck seems very, very alone.

We HEAR from the dark thickets a STRANGE NOISE.  Rustling in
the leaves.  Something crashing in the trees, or is it a
wave?  A jolt of adrenaline courses through Chuck's body.  He
lurches to his feet.

We HEAR the noises again.  Chuck edges toward the rocks at
the barb of the hook.  Keeping his eye on the thicket, he
bends down and picks up a stone.  His first weapon.

In the rocks he finds a piece of driftwood.  He picks it up
in his other hand.  He backs between two rocks and stands
facing the thicket, every sense alert.  A cloud passes over
the moon.  The shadow streaks across Chuck's anxious face.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

The morning TIDE is coming in.  We follow the tide as it laps
amidst the rocks and finds Chuck, staring out to sea.  The
empty sea.

                     CHUCK
          Where the fuck are you?

But now he is really thirsty.  We WALK with Chuck up the
beach.

Beneath the palms he sees a couple of coconuts.  He picks one
of them up and studies it.  It's heavy, almost the size of a
volleyball.  How to get in it?

He throws it down on a rock.  The coconut just bounces off.
He wedges the coconut between two rocks, then throws a rock
down on it.  It bounces off.  He throws down a bigger rock.
It smashes on the rocks and chips.  Chuck picks up the rock.
OW!  Where the rock had chipped the edge is sharp.  It cuts
him.

                     CHUCK
          Sonofabitch.

The blood stains the rock a bright red.  Chuck sucks on his
finger, then he gets an idea -- the same idea primitive man
first got when he discovered stone tools.

He picks up the rock, test the edge.  Sharp -- really sharp.
He throws another rock down, but it doesn't break.  He picks
up another rock and strikes the first one.  Then again,
harder.  And again.  A large flake shoots off.  This edge is
even sharper.

He has a knife.

OPENING THE COCONUT - SERIES OF SHOTS

Chuck uses the stone knife to saw at the coconut.  No luck.

Chuck clumsily sharpens a stick with the sharp rock.

Chuck brings the sharpened stick down hard on the coconut,
but the stick slides off, sending the coconut rolling away.

Chuck positions the stick, pointed end up, in a hole, then
SLAMS the coconut down hard on it.  Success!  The green nut
of the coconut splits.  The brown inner nut is free!  He
smashes the nut with a rock, but -- OW!  -- he hits his hand!
Chuck licks his fingers, but he is so thirsty there's no more
saliva.  He smashes again.  The shell breaks to smithereens.
Coconut milk splashes everywhere.

                     CHUCK
          That was smart, really smart.

Rotating a nut along its axis and carefully moving his
fingers out of the way, he SMASHES the nut again.  The shell
splits!  The precious liquid splashes out.  Left inside is a
swallow or two, which Chuck laps up eagerly.  The milky white
liquid dribbles down his face.

                     CHUCK
          Ahhh.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNRISE

Chuck squints at the ocean.  His sunburn is bad -- his lips
are cracked.  A stack of broken coconut shells is beside him.
No one's there -- again.

                     CHUCK
          Maybe the GPS malfunctioned.  That Korean
          airliner did.

Clouds scud in front of the sun.  Beyond the reef the waves
are high and churning.  Chuck can see them pound onto the
reef.

                     CHUCK
          Okay, do the math.  Maybe they know where
          you are within, say 500 miles.  That's a
          circle with an area of, uh, pi r squared.
          So, uh, 250,000 times three point one
          four, that's about 800,000 square miles.
          Three times the size of Texas.

This sinks in.  Then Chuck gets an idea.

                     CHUCK
          They could use a satellite.

But even that doesn't give him much hope.

                     CHUCK
          Say each satellite photo is 30 feet
          square, that's uh...fuck it...billions
          and billions of photos.

That sinks in.

                     CHUCK
          Aw, someone will come.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck sleeps by the coconuts.  The tide is coming in.  Chuck
stirs, gets up, staggers over to a palm tree to relieve
himself.

He stares idly out at the moonlight on the waves.  Then not
so idly.  Something's out there, something floating on the
tide.

                     CHUCK
          What the hell?

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck splashes into the gentle surf, reaches the dark object.

It's a body.  Chuck turns it over.  It's Al, one of the
pilots, his face gray and waterlogged and very dead.

                     CHUCK
          Oh Jesus.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck drags the body up on the beach and then collapses,
exhausted.  He sits by it, staring at it.

                     CHUCK
          I'm so sorry, Al.  So sorry.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING   

Chuck has almost finished a grave in the sand back of the
palm trees.  He's been digging with a piece of driftwood
sharpened with his stone knife.

He drags the body into the pit.  Stares down at it.  That
could be me.

                     CHUCK
          Got to cover Al up.

He wants to say more, can't.  He scoops some sand over the
body.

                     CHUCK
          Got to cover Al up.

He scoops in some more sand.  It's eerily like burying the
tropical fish in his back yard.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

With a rock Chuck hammers a crude driftwood marker into the
sand.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

As Chuck sits on the beach, he half-sings, half-talks "Yellow
Submarine" very quietly to himself.

                     CHUCK
          We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow
          submarine...

He looks over at the deep woods and down to the rocky point.
Comes to a decision.  He takes a drink of coconut, picks up
his club and a coconut, sticks the stone knife in his pants.
He's ready to go.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck climbs over the rocks and disappears out of sight.
He's still half-singing to himself.

                     CHUCK
          Yellow submarine.  We all live in a
          yellow submarine...

EXT.  ISLAND - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck's way is blocked by rocks and jungle.  He hesitates.
He picks up a rock and THROWS IT to scare away all those bad
things.  It crashes into the ferns and palm trees.  He takes
a step into the jungle.

EXT.  JUNGLE - MINUTES LATER

Chuck struggles through a dense thicket beneath a jungle
canopy.  Vines and creepers reach out toward him.  There is
no path, nothing to show him where to go.

EXT.  JUNGLE - HALF HOUR LATER

Chuck climbs through a tangle of vines and ferns.  He takes a
drink from the coconut he is carrying.  The last drink.

                     CHUCK
          Bad idea.  Should have saved some.

He throws away the husk.  He looks up, but the only sunlight
reaching him is dappled from the canopy above him.

EXT.  ISLAND - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck emerges onto a ridge that leads to a summit.  He climbs
across a rocky lava field covered with scrub lichen and low
ferns, soil dark as coffee beans, his way crossed by steep
gullies that cut like dark fingers into the lava.

The lava field narrows, forcing Chuck closer to the sea.  He
passes a series of CAVES, their mouths dark and mysterious
and scary.  He gives them a wide berth.

EXT.  ISLAND - CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

The land narrows to a ledge that stretches across a high
cliff perched over the ocean.  Beyond this rock bridge the
path smoothes out to a summit.

Chuck stares at the narrow bridge, then down at the waves
breaking on the rocks far below.  To get any view, he will
have to cross the bridge.  He's thirsty.  The late afternoon
sun is hot.

                     CHUCK
          Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did
          you enjoy the play?

Hugging the wall of the cliff, taking each step with great
caution, he sets out across the bridge.

EXT.  ISLAND - CLIFF

Step by step, Chuck negotiates the narrow bridge.  He reaches
a flume of polished basalt which cuts across the ledge like a
slide in a water park -- except this flume ends high above
the waves.  Chuck tries to step across it, can't quite, tries
one foot first, then the other.

                     CHUCK
          Shit!

He looks back, but that seems even scarier.

                     CHUCK
          Got to get there.  Got to see.  C'mon...
          c'mon.  Don't be such a wuss.  Be bold.

He looks down at the ocean beneath him, closes his eyes, and
jumps.  It's only a few feet, but he's breathing hard when he
lands on the other side.  He hugs the rocks, getting his
breath.

EXT.  ISLAND SUMMIT - SUNSET - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck looks to each point on the compass.  He is on an
ISLAND, small, inhospitable, without sign of habitation or
anything human.  On three sides the waves break against
steep, hostile cliffs.  A reef encloses the cove where he
came from.

                     CHUCK
          No way on.  No way off.

Chuck stares out to sea in every direction.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK
          This is bad.  Really, really bad.

The last rays of sun hit his face.  The ocean turns a deep
reddish gold.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

Going down is even scarier.  It's dusk and the light is flat
and gray.  Chuck stares at the ledge.

                     CHUCK
          Come on.  Crawl if you have to.

Chuck crawls on his hands and knees across the rock bridge.

EXT.  ROCKY SLOPE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck stumbles over the rocks.  The caves look ominous and
primal.

EXT.  EDGE OF JUNGLE - NIGHT

It's getting dark now.  The jungle seems impenetrable, the
dark wood of fable.  Chuck hesitates, then plunges into it.

EXT.  JUNGLE - NIGHT MINUTES LATER

The moon has just begun to rise, casting eerie light into the
jungle.  The shadows reach out to grab Chuck, then real
branches and vines tug at him.  He heads into thick
blackness.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck emerges around the rocks.  He reaches the stack of
familiar FedEx boxes -- Ahh, home!  He's breathing hard, from
both fear and exertion.

                     CHUCK
          Got to drink.  Got to drink something.

With his last strength he opens a coconut on the stick.  He
bangs hard on the shell and gulps down the milk.  He stares
at the stack of FedEx boxes.  What could be inside?  He
reaches out and touches one.

                     CHUCK
          They don't belong to you.

Responsibility gets the better of necessity, and he takes his
hand away.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

Face red from the sun, Chuck hacks at a palm frond with his
stone knife.  He saws the palm frond off near the base,
leaving it about a foot long.

                     CHUCK
          Got to have shade.  Got to have a hat.

He ties the loose fibers into a sort of circle, then sets it
upon his head.  It looks amazingly like some sort of
primitive cap.

He grabs a couple of FedEx boxes and heads for the beach.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck finishes the P on H E L P, which he has spelled out
with the FedEx boxes on the beach.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck scrambles down a ravine.  He kneels down and feels the
ground.  It is dry, completely dry.

EXT.  LAVA SLOPE - DAY

Chuck traverses the slope, determined to find water.

A FLAT ROCK - LATER

With a puddle of dirty water trapped in a tiny hollow.
Suddenly Chuck flops down into frame.  He tries to scoop up
some water in his hands, but he just splashes it around.  He
licks his fingers.  Then he gets down on his stomach and laps
up the water with his tongue.  Like an animal.

In the bottom of the small depression is some fine mud.  He
rubs it on his reddened face and across his burned lips.

                     CHUCK
          Oh, God.  Thank you.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies in darkness, his eyes reflecting the moon.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck is drenched in sweat.  He is at the bottom of a hole
six feet deep.  He takes one last dig with the flat stick,
then licks the moist clay that sticks to it.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck breaks open another coconut and gulps down the milky
liquid.  With a stone knife he digs in the shell for some of
the meat, but it's dry and chewy and fibrous.  He spits it
out, then lies back on the sand and stares at the first
stars.  Half sings to himself.

                     CHUCK
          You deserve a break today...

He is desperately thirsty.  Hunger gnaws at him.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY - LATER

Holding a sharpened stick, Chuck wades in the shallows at low
tide, looking for fish.  It's difficult to keep his balance.
Suddenly a shadow flashes by, glinting in the morning
sunlight.  Chuck hurls the spear, which ricochets off the
water and floats away.

Chuck plunges into the water after the fish with his bare
hands.  The fish reverses direction.  Chuck leaps after it
and goes under.  He comes up spluttering, on his hands and
knees in the shallows.

Suddenly a whole school of fish swims by him, moving in
unison, like one creature, splitting around Chuck like
mercury.  He grabs at them desperately.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK
          Damn fish!

On some rocks he sees clusters of limpets.  He takes a rock
and tries to dislodge one, but it smashes into a soggy mess.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Discouraged, he sits down on the beach and gets his breath.

Idly, Chuck takes out his wallet.  The money is soaked.  He
lays it out to dry.  He finds a PHOTOGRAPH OF KELLY, soaked
and mushy.

He tries to smooth it out.  For a moment he is overcome.  His
face tightens, his eyes get moist.  He stares out to sea.

                     CHUCK
          Wait a minute.  Wait just a minute.

He picks up his wallet again and takes out a credit card.

EXT.  BEACH - MINUTES LATER

Chuck wades in the water, stops by a rock covered with
limpets.  He uses a CREDIT CARD to scrape off a limpet.

                     CHUCK
          Don't leave home without it.

With his finger, he prods around in the mucous-like meat,
then tilts up the shell and we see the gooey gray stuff slide
off the shell into his mouth.

                     CHUCK
          Yuck.

He starts to spit it out.  Tries to make himself like it.

                     CHUCK
          Yumm.

And he swallow it.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck sits in the shade of a palm tree surrounded by a pile
of smashed coconut husks and a stack of limpet shells.  He
checks his watch for a moment.

                     CHUCK
          Got to get this fixed.

But what's the point?  Everything that was so valuable before
is useless now.

EXT.  JUNGLE - LATER

Chuck digs yet another hole.  He chants to himself, almost
delusionally.

                     CHUCK
          Water, water, everywhere, water, water
          everywhere...

Covered in sweat, desperate and exhausted, he throws down his
wooden spade.

                     CHUCK
          Where's the water on this fucking island?

He lies on his back, breathing hard.  Pulls his hat over his
eyes.

                     CHUCK
          Just rest a minute.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck is lying in the hole.  We find his feet.  Slowly water
is oozing out of the clay, a puddle is building around his
toes.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY - LATER

Chuck's eyes snap awake.  He looks down at his feet.  There's
a pool of muddy water there.  He dips his hand in it, touches
a finger to his lips to be sure he's not dreaming.

He grabs his sharpened stone, begins to attack the clay.

                     CHUCK
          Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

EXT.  BEACH - SUNSET

Chuck carefully makes marks on a palm tree with his rock
knife.  One for each day.  Very neat.  Very precise.  Very
Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          Let's see, I waited two days.
               (makes marks)
          Then I buried Al.
               (slowly makes another mark)
          Al.  You never made it home, buddy.  Then
          American Express got me those clam
          things...
               (makes another mark)
          I dug all those damn holes, the clouds
          over the moon...
               (makes more marks)
          And today, the historic discovery of H,
          Two, Oh.
               (makes a tenth mark and
                underlines it)
          Ten days.  Shit.

For a moment, he feels the weight of his isolation.  Then he
allows himself a deep breath.  There is order now, after all.
Time is under control.

EXT.  CLIFF - DAY

Very carefully, but standing this time, Chuck makes his way
across the ledge.

EXT.  SUMMIT - DAY

He emerges on the top, takes a drink from a hand-made
canteen, and looks in all directions.  Again, he sees nothing
but ocean.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

He resumes his efforts at fishing.  A shape scuttles raggedly
beneath him.

                     CHUCK
          A crab, it's a crab.

He freezes, holding his spear motionless.  Then he jabs at
the crab -- misses!  The crab scurries away toward the rocks.

                     CHUCK
          Dammit!

Chuck splashes after it, stabbing as he goes, falling,
getting up, stabbing again.

Suddenly one stab feels different.  Chuck carefully lifts up
the spear.  On the end is a squirming crab.

                     CHUCK
          I did it.  I did it!

He walks carefully with it to the beach.  Lowering the spear,
he lets the crab slip off.  It darts toward the water.  Chuck
heads it off, trying to avoid the snapping claws.

He kicks it back toward the beach, then slams a rock down on
it.  He twists off a crab claw, expecting to see flaky white
meat.  But a crab has an exoskeleton.  The flesh simply pours
out, like mucous.

                     CHUCK
          Jesus.

This is too much.  He needs the next step, from the raw to
the cooked.  The crucial next step from primitive man to the
beginnings of civilization.

EXT.  PALM GROVE SERIES OF SHOTS - TRYING TO MAKE FIRE

Chuck rubs two sticks together.  Nothing.

Chuck positions a makeshift drill in a hole he has scooped
out in a piece of driftwood.  He spins the drill with great
effort.  Nothing.

                     CHUCK
          Stupid fucking thing!

He quits, exhausted.  He looks at his hands.  They are raw
and blistered.  He feels like Job.

                     CHUCK
          I don't know what I did, God, but
          whatever is was, I am really, really
          sorry.  You hear me?  Really sorry.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck emerges from the jungle and walks to the edge of the
ocean.  He dips his blistered hands into the sea water, then
looks over at the FedEx boxes that spell out H E L P.

                     CHUCK
          Don't have a choice, do I?

He walks over and picks a few boxes up from the P.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

With his stone knife and spear to help him.  Chuck begins to
open the FedEx boxes.  Chuck rips open the end of one box and
shakes it.  Out tumble some videotapes.  Chuck looks at them:
what good are they?

Chuck tears another box open.  Out slide some legal papers
covered with Post-its.

In quick cuts, we see him dump out computer memory boards,
some designer dresses, flowers, a pair of roller blades, a
script with a red cover -- which he never reads.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

By now he has taken all the boxes in the P.  Only H E L
remains.  He pauses to let the irony of that sink in, then
collects more boxes.  He is even more exhausted.

EXT.  PALM GROVE

Two boxes remain.  One is the box with Angel Wings.  Chuck
sets it aside.  He opens the other box.  Out tumbles a
DOCTOR'S BAG.  Chuck can't believe it.  He opens the bag.
It's full of great stuff.  Medicine.  A scalpel.  A saw.

                     CHUCK
          Okay.  Okay now.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - LATER

Hands bandaged, Chuck tries to strike a spark on the roller
blade wheel housing.  Tries over and over.  Nothing.

He takes a long drink from his canteen, and flinches.  His
tooth is starting to hurt.  He fishes some Tylenol out of the
surgeon's bag and takes two.

EXT.  OTHER SIDE OF ISLAND - DAY

Chuck picks some berries and gingerly tries them.  They're
not bad.  He eats more.  Then more.  What a relief.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies on his palm fronds, groaning and holding his
stomach.  He drags himself to his knees, crawls a few feet,
and throws up in great, violent heaves.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Still looking a little green, Chuck marks another day on his
tree calendar.

EXT.  SUMMIT

He stares out to sea.  Nothing.

EXT.  WELL - DAY

Chuck lies on his belly and drinks from the well, which has
filled with water.  Then he washes his face and splashes
water over his neck.  The surface of the well stills,
bringing CHUCK'S REFLECTION into focus.  He stares at
himself.

Very carefully Chuck shaves with the surgeon's scalpel.

Chuck checks out his new appearance in the water.  Much
better.  A clean start now.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

He sits in front of his failed efforts to make fire.

                     CHUCK
          You're not getting it hot enough.  Got to
          hold the heat.  Got to hold the heat.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck carefully shaves some tinder.  Puts it under a piece of
bamboo split lengthwise with a notch cut across it.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck uses a bamboo stick to try to make friction in the
split half of the bamboo.  He saws back and forth with all
his might, pressing it down in the groove.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck gives one last saw with his bamboo and stops, utterly
defeated.  It's all too much.

                     CHUCK
          Sonofabitch!

He starts to rub again.  He breathes hard, sweat pours off
his face.  He is really going for it, what the hell!  A tiny
wisp of smoke appears!  Chuck saws with even more energy.

                     CHUCK
          Come on.  Come on.

The smoke increases.  Chuck rips away the bamboo, grabs the
nest of shavings, and blows on it frantically.  The smoke
flickers and dies.  Chuck can't believe it.

                     CHUCK
          No.  No.  No.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies in his bed of palm fronds, shivering.  He looks up
at the stars, which blaze furiously.

                     CHUCK
          That's the big dipper...Orion...or is
          that the Southern Cross...?  Kelly would
          know.

And he misses her so much.  A shower of meteors streaks
across the sky, as if the very heavens are raining down on
Chuck.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck readies his two sticks of bamboo again and begins
sawing with tremendous energy.  He smells something.  Is it
smoke?  He pulls off the log and looks eagerly at the nest of
tinder.  There's nothing there.

                     CHUCK
          Dammit!

He replaces the log and starts wearily to saw again.

TIME CUT

The sun has moved in the sky.  Chuck is still sawing.  Again
the smoke appears.  Again sweat pours from his face.  The
smoke increases.  He saws even harder.  His breath comes in
anguished gulps.  Smoke is curling up now.  Chuck tears away
the bamboo, picks up the nest of kindling, and blows on it
gently.  The smoke increases.

He blows some more.  A fragile crimson spark appears.

                     CHUCK
          Careful now, careful...

He gently places the nest of shavings in the kindling, then
blows on it with utmost care, as if he were holding life
itself.  He shreds his money and business cards over the tiny
flame.

Suddenly, the evening breeze lifts the nest out of the
kindling.  Desperate, Chuck grabs it.  Trying to shield it
with his body, he grabs some palm fronds and jams them into
the sand, trying to make a windbreak.  They rustle and shake
and blow over.

The wind blows harder.  Chuck jams some rocks in a circle to
make an eddy.  But the fire is out.  No words now, just a
loud, primal groan of pure despair.

And then, into his vision floats...smoke.

Chuck looks down.  A wisp of smoke curls up from the nest of
tinder!  Chuck blows on it gently.  Suddenly a tiny tongue of
flame flickers and catches on the kindling!

                     CHUCK
          Yes!  Yes!  Yes!

He feeds in some more twigs, more tinder.  The flames lick
out, catch, grow.

                     CHUCK
          If I ever forgot to thank you God, and I
          am sure I did, thank you now.

EXT.  BEACH - WIDE - NIGHT

The fire burns on the beach.  Chuck rushes about, piling on
driftwood.

EXT.  BEACH - CLOSER

Chuck darts into the jungle and returns dragging a huge log.
He throws it on the fire.  We see his face in the light of
the fire.  He is exultant.  He dances.  He sings at the top
of his lungs.  Papa-ooo-mow-mow!

Chuck throws another huge log on the fire.  Papa-papa-papa-
oooo!  The log splutters and explodes, sending up a huge
shower of sparks that climb and sparkle in the
darkness...until they merge with the stars.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - MORNING

Chuck makes a mark on the tree.  Around it he carves a flame
-- the day he mastered fire.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - LATER THAT MORNING

Chuck sharpens his spear with his stone knife.  Then he
sticks it in the flame to harden it, pulls it out, checks it,
scrapes some more.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck wades in the water with his spear.  Suddenly he stabs
it down.  A crab is on the end.

EXT.  BEACH - HALF HOUR LATER

Chuck removes a crab from out of the fire and breaks a
steaming crab claw.  Chuck takes a bite of the flaky white
meat.  Ahhh.  It tastes great.  He takes another bite -- and
flinches.

                     CHUCK
          Damn tooth!

He fumbles for his Tylenol and takes two pills.

EXT.  SUMMIT - SUNSET

Chuck stands on the summit, looking in all directions.  Then,
something on the island brings Chuck's eyes back from their
distant focus on the horizon.  From down on the beach,
beneath the palm grove, there curls a thin column of smoke.
Chuck lets a bit of pride creep into his face as he sees it.
He kneels down and begins to build a signal fire.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck curls up in his bed of palm fronds.  The fire burns.
Around it is a large stack of crab shells.  He stares into
the fire.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - MORNING

Chuck makes another mark on the tree.  He has circled the
tree with marks several times now.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Using a safety pin and some suturing thread, Chuck fishes
carefully.  Suddenly he jerks his hand back.  On the end is a
flopping fish.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

Chuck takes a cooked fish off the fire and mixes it with some
breadfruit.  He eats the soft mixture, chewing carefully, but
his tooth hurts even worse.  There are only a few Tylenol
tablets left.  He carefully cuts one in half and swallows it.

EXT.  SUMMIT - AFTERNOON

Chuck arrives with the wood for the night.  He stares out to
sea as usual, but this time he sees something different.

WHALES.  He sees whales.  Leaping.  Broaching.  Spouting.
Water pouring off fins and flukes.  Moving.  Going somewhere.

                     CHUCK
          Beautiful.  So beautiful.

Chuck stares at them, stares until the ocean darkens and he
can see them no more.  It's late now.

Leaving, he takes one last look, as he always does.  And
another remarkable sight greets his eyes.  There, on the
horizon, just below the evening star, is a...LIGHT.  He
stares at it, fixed.

                     CHUCK
          A star.  It's a star.

But then he stares at it really hard.

                     CHUCK
          It's a ship.

EXT.  WOODS - TREE - NEXT DAY

A tree shakes and moves, quivers...

                     CHUCK
          Timberrr!

...then slowly falls with a CRASH!

                     CHUCK
          I heard that...

Chuck holds his surgeon's saw over the stump.  He walks to
another tree and begins to saw his way into the trunk.

EXT.  BEACH - SERIES OF SHOTS

Up above the high tide line, Chuck lashes a log to a row of
five logs already joined with vines.

                     CHUCK
          No more waiting.  Take action.

Chuck sews several designer dresses together with needle and
suturing thread for a sail.

                     CHUCK
          That's right.  Take action.

He cuts bamboo for the mast.  He carves driftwood for an oar.

He fills gourds with water, stores breadfruit and coconut as
he sings "Fly Me to the Moon" to himself.

He ties the sail to the mast and extends it with a bamboo
boom lashed on with palm fiber and video tape.  He ties on
the doctor's kit and the FedEx box with the angel wings.

He examines his handiwork:  a finished raft.

He brings out his old life preserver and puts it on, then
grabs hold of one corner of the raft to pull it down to the
beach.  It doesn't budge.  He tries to pull it again.
Nothing.  He leans his back into it and pushes with his legs.
Nothing.  He collapses on the beach, his breath coming in
heaves.

                     CHUCK
          How could I be so stupid?

He bangs himself on the head, over and over.

                     CHUCK
          Stupid, stupid, stupid.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - NIGHT

Chuck throws new firewood on the dwindling fire.  It comes
back to life.  Meteors streak again across the sky.  He
stares at the indifferent stars.  The moon is almost full.
Shadows of palm trees sway on the sand.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck stands by the edge of the water, which shimmers in the
reflected light of the fire.  A wave come in, licks at his
toes.  Lifts up a coconut husk, sweeps it gently out.  Chuck
watches, gets an idea.

EXT.  BEACH - NIGHT

He begins to dig in the sand by the raft.  He grabs the oar
and digs faster, making a trench up to where the raft is.

EXT.  BEACH - MORNING

The rising tide floods water into the trench.  Chuck rocks
the raft back and forth.  It floats!  As the wave recedes, it
takes the raft with it.  Chuck has to run beside it.

CHUCK TRYING TO ESCAPE - MONTAGE

Over and over, we see Chuck capsize at the reef.  The first
time he has a bandage on his leg.  He tries everything --
different rafts, different approaches, but each time the
ocean spits him back.

EXT.  LAGOON - DAY

Defeated and utterly exhausted, Chuck swims back from his
latest failure.  He wades back ashore with the FedEx box and
throws it on the ground by the palm tree.  He has tried so
hard to escape, so incredibly hard, done everything humanly
possible and beyond.  He rips off his life preserver, throws
it into the underbrush, then collapses on the beach.

                     CHUCK
          You're too low in the water.  Too damn
          low.

Chuck's shoulders begin to shake, as he is racked with deep
sobs of despair.

And then he throws his head back and lets forth, from deep
inside himself, a SCREAM of rage and anger and pain.  The
Scream pierces the indifferent natural sounds of the island,
the rustling of the breeze, the lulling rhythm of the waves.
It is powerful, disturbing, primal.

The breeze picks up.  Behind Chuck, the palm trees begin to
sway.  The tide is reaching up toward the beach.  The waves
crash louder.  The palm trees sway even more.

Chuck picks up some wet sand and rubs it on his body.

                     CHUCK
          Dust thou art -- that's for damned sure
          -- and unto dust shalt thou return.

A few DROPS OF RAIN begin to fall, splashing on Chuck and
sizzling in the fire.

Chuck looks up:  clouds have obscured the sun.  The wind
blows harder.  The rain falls harder, streaking the sand
Chuck had rubbed on his body.  STEAM sizzles out of the fire.

Chuck looks up, disbelieving.  The bottom falls out of the
heavens -- monsoon rain, more rain than you have ever seen
before.  A long wave rolls up, its frothy fingers reaching
for the fire.

Forget the raft!  Forget despair!  The fire could go out!
This is disaster!

                     CHUCK
          Shit!

He springs into action.  Chuck grabs an empty FedEx box.
With his wooden shovel he frantically SCOOPS SOME COALS out
of the fire as the rain HISSES and POUNDS at them.  He slides
the coals into the FedEx box, grabs some sticks of driftwood
and sets off on a run.

EXT.  WOODS - DAY

Chuck runs through the woods, slipping and stumbling.  Vines
grab at him.  The rain is so thick he can hardly see.

EXT.  WOODS - MINUTES LATER

Chuck bursts out of the woods into the lava field.  Smoke
pours out of the FedEx box.  The coals are about to burn
through!

EXT.  LAVA FIELD - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck stumbles up the slippery rocks, dragging the smoking
box.  His face is drenched, desperate.

EXT.  CAVE - DAY - MINUTES LATER

Chuck tumbles into the cave just as the coals burn through
the FedEx box.

Using the remains of the box, he desperately tries to scoot
the coals into a dry spot.

One by one, THE PRECIOUS COALS GO OUT.

Dripping water off his hands and face, he pushes a few
together with his fingers, ignoring the burns.

                     CHUCK
          Please...please...please...

He stomps on the driftwood and saws at it with his knife.  He
places this kindling on the coals.  They sputter and sizzle.
Barely catch.  He fans them with the box.  A tiny flicker
catches, then starts to grow.

                     CHUCK
          Firewood.  I need firewood.

SERIES OF SHOTS

On the beach, Chuck desperately gathers more firewood in the
driving monsoon.  He can barely see.  Driven by the storm,
the waves are licking at the palm grove.

He runs through the woods.  Branches whip at his face.  Roots
tear at his feet, tripping him.

He stumbles up the lava field.  Sliding.  Struggling.  Barely
able to breathe, the rain is so strong.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

He dumps the firewood on the floor of the cave.  But where
the fire had flickered, there is only a pile of wet black
ashes.

THE FIRE IS OUT.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck lies on the floor of the cave, shivering in the
darkness as the rain falls.  His fire is out, his tooth is
killing him, he can't escape.

EXT.  CAVE - NEXT DAY

Chuck emerges from the cave.  The rain has stopped.  This is
the absolute lowest.  His face reflects his pain and despair.
He's trapped.  It's hopeless.  Everything he tried to build
is gone.

EXT.  LEDGE - DAY

Chuck slowly walks out on the ledge.  He stares down at the
waves breaking on the jagged rocks far below.

He lets go one hand.  Then lets go the other.  He is barely
balanced.  It looks like a wisp of breeze would blow him
right off.  He slides one foot to the very lip of the
precipice.

Suddenly his foot slips!

Instinctively he turns into the cliff, grabs for a hold!  One
hand reaches for a nubbing of rock, slips off!  The other
closes, his fingers straining to hold him.

He breathes in deep gasps.  He had wanted to end it, come so
close.

                     CHUCK
          What the fuck are you doing?

His deepest instinct was to survive.  And that is what he is
going to do.

                     CHUCK
          Hang on.  Just hang on.

Slowly he pulls himself back from the edge.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck walks aimlessly down the beach, feeling the burden of
starting over.  The beach is littered with seaweed and
flotsam, bits of rope, plastic bottles.  He picks up a
plastic bottle.  That will come in handy.

The Chuck sees a SOCCER BALL with "Wilson" stamped on it in
big black letters.

He picks it up, holds it, tosses it up in the air.  Then he
kicks it, then kicks it again, then runs down the beach,
trying to kick it and keep it out of the water.  Feeling joy
again, even here.

INT.  CAVE - THAT DAY

The sun is setting on his darkened cave.  The soccer ball
sits in the corner by the black cold ashes of what was once
his fire.

Chuck carves a bit of coconut meat, takes a bite and winces
as the meat hits his sore tooth.  He tosses the shell on a
small new pile of shells.

Chuck shakes out the last half Tylenol tablet.  He puts the
tablet in his mouth, then takes a sip out of his coconut
canteen.  When the water hits his tooth that hurts too.

INT.  CAVE - MORNING

Chuck mixes a mash of breadfruit and coconut.  He tries to
pack the tooth with the mash, but it's so sensitive that even
this hurts.  He pounds the floor of the cave in frustration.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck holds a stone chisel and his hammer stone.  He
positions the chisel against his inflamed tooth.  But the
thought of what he is about to do is too frightening.  He
lowers the chisel.

                     CHUCK
          Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck tries to fill his mouth with sea water.  The pain is so
great his eyes water.

                     CHUCK
          Whoo, pig.  Sooey!

He falls back in the water and floats there, looking up at
the sky.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Determined, Chuck hold the stone chisel again.  He raises it
slowly to his mouth and picks up the hammer stone.

                     CHUCK
          No pain, no gain.

He brings the hammer down hard on the chisel!  The screen
goes BLACK as Chuck's SCREAM continues UNDER.

FADE IN:

EXT.  OCEAN - SUNRISE - THREE YEARS LATER

The sky takes on the first colors of the day.  The ocean is
still dark, but a few waves catch the first light.  The
sunrise touches the summit, moves down the cliff, then lights
the cove.  On the screen superimpose:

                     "1000 DAYS LATER"

REFLECTION - WATER

A spear shimmers in the calm morning water.  Attached to the
spear is a man, standing completely still.

ON CHUCK

We move up out of the reflection to the real man.  His legs
are scarred.  The remnants of a dress wrap around his middle.
A stone knife on a neatly mounted haft is stuck in a belt
made of videotape and woven fiber.  Necklaces of shark's
teeth and shells hang from his neck.  His hair is long.  A
coconut frond hat is on his head.

The hand wrapped around the spear is scarred and brown as a
berry.  It holds the spear perfectly still.  The watch is
gone.

We come around slowly until we see Chuck's face.  The eyes
say it all.  They stare out with a survivor's intensity,
staring at the water, unblinking.  This is the man who used
to splash futilely about in the water trying to fish.

This is the FedEx man who was plugged into the tumult of
activity and energy, surrounded by technology and human
activity at its most intense, devoted to making seconds
count.  Now he is utterly alone, and utterly still.

And now he has all the time in the world.

Suddenly, without an once of wasted motion, he shoots the
spear forward at a low angle.  It quivers, stuck on the
bottom.  He pulls it out with a practiced twist.  On the end
is a struggling fish.

But this isn't a thrill anymore.  It's another day at the
office.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck makes a mark on a palm tree.  He has completely covered
three other trees with marks.  It sinks in how long he has
been here.

EXT.  JUNGLE - LATER

Chuck carries the fish back from the beach.  Now there is a
well-worn trail.

INT.  CAVE - THAT AFTERNOON

Chuck enters with the fish.  We are greeted with the well-
ordered lair of a primitive stone-age man.

Clam shell spirals weave in and out around the fire hole.
Strips of eel jerky and fish hang drying from racks.

Tools are lined up neatly:  digging sticks, stone hammers and
saws, spears neatly hafted onto shafts, drills, awls.  Bits
and pieces of feathers, skins, bones, rags, leaves -- are all
neatly arranged.  Strings and cords hang from hooks.  Coconut
bowls and cooking rocks form a small kitchen.  A raincoat and
rain-hat woven of palm fronds is neatly draped over a frame.

Evocative pieces of driftwood decorate the room.  A wind
chime of obsidian flakes sways gently.  The watch hangs on a
stick.

The Angel Box has the place of honor on one side.  On the
other side the Wilson soccer ball rests on a throne of rocks.
Seaweed has been placed on the ball as hair.  Clam shells
have been stuck on for eyes, other shells form a mouth.  A
tube shell and conch form a pipe.

INT.  CAVE - FIRE - NIGHT

The fish are being smoke under a palm frond.  Eel skins hang
from sticks, roasting.  Chuck sits by the fire, hafting a
stone knife onto a wooden haft.

He ties some fiber to a stick, then braids it into string,
using both hands and his mouth for the three strands.

He ties the string tightly around the shaft.  He does his
work automatically.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT - LATER

Chuck eats some fish and some mashed breadfruit.  He chews
each bite, his eyes in distant focus.  The firelight flickers
on his face.

EXT.  CLIFF - SUNRISE

Chuck carries firewood up to the summit.  He mechanically
adds wood to the fire.  As he does so, something out to sea
catches his eye.  He stops and stands up.

CHUCK'S POV - WHALES

WHALES broach out past the rocky point.  Spouts of water
shoot into the air.

ON CHUCK

As he watches them, a light comes back into his eyes.  He
grins.  There's a big gap where his teeth had been.  He turns
and strides down the hill.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

He heads across the rock bridge that once had so terrified
him, without losing stride.  It's second nature now.

INT.  CAVE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck enters the cave, picks up the ball and heads out.

EXT.  SUMMIT - EVENING

The signal fire burns.  A spectacular cloudy sunset lights up
the sky.  Chuck sits with Wilson on the summit, a bowl of
mashed breadfruit in one hand, a bowl of roasted eel skin in
another.

As Chuck watches the sunset unfold, watches the whales going
by in the darkened water, he takes some roasted eel chips,
dips them into the breadfruit paste, and offers one to
Wilson.  His voice is flat, monotonal.

                     CHUCK
          Chips?  Dip?

But Wilson declines.

                     CHUCK
          No?

He takes a big crunchy bite.

                     CHUCK
          Another fucking day in paradise.

PULL BACK as the sun goes down and Chuck reaches into the
bowl again and dips an eel skin chip in the dip.

EXT.  ROCKY LEDGE - NIGHT - LATER

Torch in one hand, Wilson in the other, Chuck walks across
the rocky ledge.  He passes the flume without even noticing.

Suddenly his shoe breaks!  It's sandal made of woven yucca
leaves.

He bends down and fixes it, then heads on down the ledge.

EXT.  LEDGE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck makes a casual leap, a leap he has made hundreds of
times, but this time the sandal comes loose.  It catches on a
rock, and CHUCK FALLS!

His hands are cut and bruised.  He tries to get up, can't.
Chuck sits back and examines his foot.  His fingers come back
covered with blood.  He reaches out to steady himself, and
leaves a HANDPRINT OF BLOOD on the rock.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck wraps his foot in bandages.

INT.  CAVE - LATER

Chuck's face is sweaty.  He looks down at his foot.  It is
red, swollen, infected.  He stands up, tries to put some
weight on it.  The pain is intense.

Chuck sticks the scalpel onto some coals to sterilize it.  He
holds it over his foot, takes a breath, then jabs in into the
wound.  The pain is intense.  Chuck passes out.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs, takes a drink, weakly tosses on another log, and
collapses back on the floor.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

Chuck wakes up, trembling, shaking, wet with sweat.  He
staggers up.  His shadow sways on the wall of the cave.  He
struggles to get another log on the fire.  He squints at his
only companion, the soccer ball.

                     CHUCK
          Help me, Wilson...

He collapses again.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck stirs and squints his eyes.  He takes a drink of water.
He is feeling better.  He puts another log on the fire and
slowly begins to chew on some breadfruit and dried fish.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck slowly wades into the water, favoring his injured foot.
But something feels different.  He glances around.  What is
it?  And then he sees something, perhaps the worst possible
sight.

CHUCK'S POV - SAIL

A SAIL is moving steadily away from the island.

CHUCK

Throws down the spear and waves his arms.

                     CHUCK
          No!  Wait!  Come back!

He runs into the water and starts to swim.  He is so weak,
however, he can only make a few strokes.  He tries to yell as
he swims...

                     CHUCK
          Wait!  Wait!

Choking and weak, he turns back and drags himself up on the
beach.  In the b.g., the sail dwindles into the distance.

EXT.  SUMMIT - LATER

Chuck struggles to the top of the hill.  His fire has been
extinguished by the rain.  In the distance, far against the
horizon, he sees a sail -- or is it a cloud?  The whiteness
shimmers against the horizon.  Chuck squints.  Whatever it
was, it is gone.  Above him some contrails from jets mark the
sky.

Furious, he kicks his signal fire, scattering the burnt-out
coals.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

Chuck makes a new mark on his calendar tree.  Then he stops.
He CUTS an angry big line under the last mark, then hacks
away at the palm tree, slashing it with the stone knife,
ripping and marking through all his dates.  Finally the stone
knife breaks in two.  Chuck drops the broken half and catches
his breath.

EXT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck enters the cave.  No signal fires burn.  The island is
dark.

EXT.  SUMMIT - DAY

Chuck stands on the summit, staring out to sea.  Nothing, not
even a contrail, not even a whale spout.

EXT.  CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER

He is on his way down, suddenly he sees something and stops.
It's the HANDPRINT, the bloody handprint, his own handprint.

He slowly extends his hand and covers it, then pulls it away.
Traces it with his fingers.

INT.  CAVE - DAYS LATER

Chuck has the beginnings of an artist's studio.  Several
large clam shells hold paint.  A few egg shells are lined up.
Brushes have been made from roots and feathers.

Chuck covers his hand with paint and makes a handprint on the
wall of the cave.  He stands back and looks at it.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

He chews some berries, then holds his hand against the wall
of the cave and spits a dark blue mist around it.  When he
takes his hand away, the silhouette of his handprint remains.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

With the Angel Wing Box as a model, Chuck dips one of his
feather brushes in paint, and make a tentative line on the
wall of the cave.  He works hesitantly, rubs off a line,
tries again.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is finishing his first figure, a crude portrait of a
man -- himself?  Hard to tell.  He examines his work.  He
takes some shells and sticks them on as eyes.

Chuck picks up Wilson, thinks.

                     CHUCK
          You old airhead, you need a makeover.

He takes some charcoal out of his fire and draws eyebrows on
the ball.  Then, he mashes some berries, dips his fingers in
the juice, and makes lips.  He sticks shells on with clay for
eyes.  Then he looks at the face.

                     CHUCK
          Wilson, you bad!

He sits back and regards his companion.  He gestures around
the cave at the new paintings.

                     CHUCK
          What do you think?

But Wilson doesn't have an opinion.

                     CHUCK
          You don't share much, do you?

Idly Chuck takes down the Angel Box.

                     CHUCK
          I guess I know how Kelly felt.

For a long time he studies the wings on it.  With a stick, he
tries to draw a similar wing on the dusty floor of the cave.
Dissatisfied, he wipes it away.  He looks at the Angel Box.

Casually he reaches over and cuts it open with a stone knife.
Inside he finds two bottles of green salsa.  And a letter.

He reads over it.

                     CHUCK
          You said our life was a prison.  Dull.
          Boring.  Empty.  I can't begin to tell
          you how much that hurt.  I don't want to
          lose you.  I'm enclosing some salsa, the
          verde you like.  Use it on your sticky
          rice and think of home.  Then come home
          -- to me.  We'll find the spice in our
          lives again.  Together.  I love you.
          Always.  Bettina.

Visibly moved, Chuck puts down the letter.

                     CHUCK
          He never got it.

EXT.  ISLAND - DAY

The monsoon pours down.  Wind whips the palm trees.  The
waves are gray and angry, tearing at the beach.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

As the rain pours down outside, Chuck studies the sodden,
ruined photograph of Kelly, which is really only a gray mess.

                     CHUCK
          She's probably found someone else.  I
          would have.

Chuck dips his finger into one of the bowls of colors and
streaks it slowly across his face.  To exorcise his
loneliness, he will paint on the most expressive canvas there
is:  his own body.

CHUCK PAINTING HIMSELF - MONTAGE

Close-up on scarred fingers, as they paint on Chuck's face
and body.  Color on skin.  Tight dramatic shots of Chuck
being transformed.

Chuck takes white paint and covers his hand.  Then he presses
it into his chest and makes a handprint.  He draws a yellow
spiral on his leg, then takes red and makes jagged lightning
bolts on his chest on either side of the hand.

WATER

Shimmers in a gourd.  Chuck's face swims into focus.  It has
been painted white.  Looking at himself in the reflection, he
dots on blue stars with dark blue from squid ink.

EXT.  CAVE - LATER

The rains have stopped.  The island is washed bright and
green.

ON CHUCK

As he stands up in the cove.  His face is white with blue
stars.  Handprints circle his torso, flanked by red lightning
bolts.  Braided cords circle his biceps.  Bone necklaces hang
from his neck.  Feathers jut out from his hair.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck goes from tree to tree, making handprints along his
path.  Chuck was here.  This is his mark.

EXT.  PALM GROVE - DAY

He covers the calendar trees with handprints.  Then stops.
Sees something.  Eyes fixed on the beach, he walks toward the
shoreline.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck emerges from the palm trees, and now we see what he had
seen.

A FIFTY-FIVE GALLON OIL DRUM.

And another one.  TWO.  Chuck stares at the barrels.

                     CHUCK
          Hello.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Chuck sits staring at the oil drums.  It's almost as if he is
hesitating to take advantage of them.  That he may not want,
really, to leave now.

Then his inner struggle ends.

                     CHUCK
          What the hell are you waiting for?

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Filled with determination, Chuck rolls a barrel up the beach.

EXT.  BEACH - LATER

Using a palm tree as a fulcrum, Chuck hauls hard on a rope
made of vines, pulling the barrel up off the beach.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck throws aside palm leaves, revealing...the remains of
his raft.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is drawing with a purpose now.  And we see what he is
working on.  The plans for a raft.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck is making a list of what he needs.  He works intently.

                     CHUCK
          Canteens.  Sea anchor.  Got to weave
          rope.  Spears.  A sail.

EXT.  JUNGLE - DAY

Chuck lashes the barrels onto the raft.  Checks the knots.
Lashes more rope.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

He sews dresses together with handmade fiber string.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

He weaves videotape together to form a sea anchor.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck digs a channel toward the raft.

INT.  CAVE - DAY

Chuck constructs a water collection device with some FedEx
boxes, some plastic weighted with a stone.  Explains it to
Wilson.

                     CHUCK
          Now I'm hoping that if this is airtight
          I'll get condensation down here, a cup or
          so a day.  If I'm careful it should be
          enough.

INT.  CAVE - NIGHT

Chuck writes on the wall.

                     CHUCK
          If I never return, know that here lived
          Chuck Noland for four years.  I drew
          these paintings.  I made these marks.
          And then I took my fate in my own hands
          and set forth to save myself, God
          willing.

EXT.  BEACH - DAY

Chuck loads the raft, which rocks gently in the cove.  He has
a sail made of designer dresses sewn together with fiber
thread.  A sea anchor secured by videotape woven together
into a rope.  Plastic bottles filled with water.  A signal
kite made of FedEx paper.

Then comes the FedEx box with the angel wings.  Then Wilson.

                     CHUCK
          Wilson, my main man.  Time to go.

And he gently leads the raft into the lagoon.

                     CHUCK
          Wonder what odds Stan would give me on
          this.  I'd say 90-10.  Against.

He jumps onto the raft, begins to paddle out toward where the
surf crashes onto the reef.

EXT.  LAGOON - DAY

Waves break against the reef.  With his paddles Chuck
maneuvers the raft toward the cut in the reef.  Boom!  The
wave crashes, the water surges through the cut, then recedes
with a whoosh.

Chuck watches, times the waves, paddles like mad.  He's
committed.  SCRAPE goes the first barrel, then the second,
riding the receding wave.  He's out!

But the next wave is already surging forward.  It smashes the
raft against the reef!  Coconuts and foodstuffs hurtle off
the raft!

The barrels cushion the impact.  The raft tilts, spins, but
stays outside the reef!  The ropes holding the jugs of water
break!  The water sweeps overboard!

The wave recedes again.  Chuck recovers, paddles with all his
strength, and then he's clear of the breakers!

For a long moment he floats on the rollers, getting his
breath.

The water jugs float away, carried by the waves back into the
lagoon.  Chuck could go back and get them.  If he were being
prudent, he definitely would.

But he's out.  He might never get back out again.

He stares at the lagoon and the receding water jugs.  Then he
stares at the island.  Goodbye to all that.

                     CHUCK
          Wilson, we're out of here.

He turns and begins raising the sail.

EXT.  OCEAN - WIDE - MINUTES LATER

Powered by its multicolored makeshift sail, trailing its
gently flapping signal kite of FedEx paper, the raft slowly
moves away from the island, out toward the open ocean.

And we pull back until the ocean swallows the tiny raft and
then we TILT DOWN AND...

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - FOUR WEEKS LATER

The ocean again, low.  The raft floats into frame.  A trace
of a breeze flaps the signal kite, which barely stays aloft,
its rope frayed and tattered.  The still is set up in the
middle, plastic with a rock weighting down the center.

Chuck is gaunt, his clothes rotted.

He lies looking over the side of the raft, spear in one hand,
staring intently at the water.

Dorados swim like specters, flashing and darting.  Chuck
stabs with his spear.  Stabs again.

                     CHUCK
          Slow down, damn you!

Exhausted, he sinks back to the raft.  Two Dorados leap into
the air ahead of him.

Chuck tries to stare again into the water.  He spots another
fish, a flash of silver under the surface.

Chuck struggles to his feet, raises his spear.  SPLAT!
Something strikes him in the chest, almost knocking him into
the water.

On the raft we see flashes of silver and green and blue.  A
FLYING FISH.  Chuck dives at it, catches it, loses it.

                     CHUCK
          Catch it catch it catch it --

He catches it again just as it almost flops over the side.

EXT.  RAFT - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck sucks the juice out of the head.  He chews meat off the
tiny rib bones.

Chuck is in the stage of malnutrition, vitamin deprivation,
salt insufficiency, and exposure where the personality splits
and becomes external.  Like all castaways, he has
conversations with the two sides of himself.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Save some for tomorrow.

                     BADCHUCK
          Catch another fish tomorrow.

BadChuck wins.  Chuck keeps eating.  He stares up at the sun,
which beats down unmercifully.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

The raft drifts.  Chuck has taken down the sail and rigged it
as a canopy.  Drenched with sweat, Chuck lies on the raft,
trying to sleep.  He dabs at some sores that are ulcerating
his body and won't let him get comfortable.  Plus, there's a
chaffing, squeaking sound.  He looks around for the source.

We see it with him.  One of the ropes is frayed and about to
break.  If it does, the logs will come apart from the floats.

                     BADCHUCK
          Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

                     GOODCHUCK
          Stay calm, identify the problem.
          Problem, rope fraying.  Solution, fix
          rope.

                     BADCHUCK
          With what?  There's nothing to fix it
          with.  This rope comes undone, you're
          going to drown.

                     GOOD CHUCK
          Just get up and fix it.

                     BADCHUCK
          Too tired.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Get up.

                     BADCHUCK
          Feels so good to lie here.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Get up, damn you.

Chuck comes to his knees.  Then sinks back down.

                     BADCHUCK
          Can't.  Need water.

                     GOODCHUCK
          You've had today's water.

                     BADCHUCK
          Thirsty.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Come on, shape up, get going, you can do
          it.

                     BADCHUCK
          No water, no work.

Chuck tries another tack.  Sweet reason.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Okay look, I know you're tired, I know
          you're thirsty, but give it one more
          shot, you've just got to do a little
          more.

                     BADCHUCK
          Do too much, I'll die.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Do too little you'll die.

                     BADCHUCK
          Going to die anyway.

That stops GoodChuck for a moment.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Okay, look have an extra swallow.

He holds up the pathetic little jar with its few teaspoons of
murky water.

                     BADCHUCK
          No more water, you said.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Take it.

                     BADCHUCK
          No.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Take it, damn it.

                     BADCHUCK
          No.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Wilson, do you believe this?  Take the
          damn water.

Slowly Chuck gets up, lifts up the water jar, and takes a
swallow.  Then another.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Stop.  Enough.

Then another.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck works to braid a new rope.  He is focused,
concentrating as hard as he can, but everything is slow and
hard and he's weak and clumsy.  He tests the rope, but it
doesn't hold.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Think.  Got to use something else.

He gets an idea, starts to pull the signal kite in.

                     BADCHUCK
          If they can't see you, what's the point?

                     GOODCHUCK
          Survive today, that's the point.

The kite rope is much thinner than the rope he had used to
tie the logs, but it's all he has.  He ties the log with the
kite rope.  Exhausted, he lies back down.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT

The moon is full.  The waves cast off shadows on the ocean.
Chuck is staring into the sky, trying to find a star to
navigate by.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Polaris, where are you?  Maybe I'm too
          far south.

                     BADCHUCK
          You don't know where you are.  You missed
          the shipping lanes.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Moon's too bright.

We hear the fraying sound again.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY

Chuck saws at the outer log with his stone knife.  Across the
water comes a storm.  We can see it like a waterfall moving
toward us.

                     BADCHUCK
          You're putting off the inevitable.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I'm putting it off.

He looks at the deteriorating rope, at the rotting sail.

                     BADCHUCK
          That's what's happening to you.

Chuck pushes the outer log away, then takes the loose rope
and begins to lash it around the center logs.

                     BADCHUCK
          You're rotting away.

The raft is rocking.  The waves are stronger.  It's hard to
tie the logs together.

Rain falls like a sheet on Chuck.

                     BADCHUCK
          Get water!

                     GOODCHUCK
          Fix raft first.

                     BADCHUCK
          Water water water --

Chuck works frantically in the rain, trying to tie the rope.
Finally he does.

Then he scrambles for his water collecting funnel, struggles
to pull it up.  One corner is stuck and collapses.
Desperately he rights it, pulls the funnel up.

Drops begin to run down the sides and collect in the jar.
Soaked, Chuck stares at the water as it rises.

Then the rain stops.

We see the line of rain recede away from Chuck, spattering
the ocean.  But all around him the ocean is calm again.

And out comes the sun.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The raft floats on quiet seas.  The sky is blue, with few
high cirrus clouds so motionless they seem pasted on.

Chuck lies on the raft, sick and weak.

Suddenly, from the depths beside him, silently rises a huge
shape.

A SPERM WHALE, still mainly submerged.  The blow hole is near
Chuck, wet and pulsing like giant lips.  The eye of the whale
is only a few feet away.  It looks upon Chuck out of an
intelligence deep and alien.

He slowly comes to his knees and stares at it.

The blow hole opens and WHOOSH, out shoots a geyser of fine
spray which settles on Chuck in a mist.

The whale rises farther, dwarfing the raft.  From the whale
comes a deep sound like a foghorn.

Startled, Chuck jumps back, rocking the raft.  He catches
himself, slowly reaches out and touches the whale.

The whale blows again, drenching Chuck in more spray.

Chuck touches the whale again.

                     GOODCHUCK
          You like that?

Very slowly it drifts along with the raft.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Lost your mate?

We look right into the whale's eye.  Beneath the surface we
can see the huge jaws open and close.

                     GOODCHUCK
          You're beautiful.  Marry me.

                     BADCHUCK
          You idiot, if he dives, he'll capsize the
          raft.

Very slowly the whale moves ahead of the raft, its vast body
passing Chuck.

                     GOODCHUCK
          No, don't go.  Look, I've got fish.

Chuck rips a fillet off the line and throws it in front of
the whale, which ignores it.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Please don't dive.  Please.

The whale slowly sinks, then suddenly arches its huge back
and heads straight for the bottom.

For a moment, all that remains are the flukes, black and
vertical against the dark blue sky.  With one swoop, those
flukes could destroy Chuck and his raft.  But they don't do
anything except slowly sink.

Then it is gone.

We are on Chuck's face as he stares at where the whale had
been, the surface marked only by a ring of concentric ripples
that reach out and gently rock the raft.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Chuck checks the water.  It is green and full of floaties.
It looks awful.  He takes the jug, puts it to his mouth, and
drinks.  Instantly he throws up back into the jug, barely
keeps from dropping it.

                     BADCHUCK
          Look what you've done.

He dips his hand into the ocean, splashes some sea water on
his face, splutters it out, then licks his lips.  He is so
thirsty.

He looks at the water jug, full now with his own vomit, turns
away, begins to work on the sea anchor again.

But the work makes him even thirstier.  He looks at the jug
again.

Picks it up.  Takes a long drink.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The fish return.  Chuck gets up with his spear, then puts it
down.

                     BADCHUCK
          What are you doing?

                     GOODCHUCK
          Can't kill another one.  Can't.  Can't
          kill my friends anymore.

                     BADCHUCK
          You fucking bleeding heart, you kill or
          you die.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Why do they have to die for me?

                     BADCHUCK
          They'd eat you if they could.  They're
          laughing at you.  Listen.

Chuck listens.  Doesn't hear anything.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Got to eat.

Chuck picks up the spear, stabs it, misses.

Suddenly he has a fish on the end of the spear.  It
struggles, he scoops it onto the raft, brutally pounds on its
head, twists the stone knife into its spine.  The struggling
stops.

Chuck looks at the dead fish and begins to sob.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I am so sorry.

He cries uncontrollably.  As he cries he cuts off the head,
pulls out the eyeballs, and eats each one.  Then he sucks the
marrow out of the head.

Then takes the heart and eats that.  Then eats the liver.

As he is chewing, he cuts the meat into strips.

When he is done, he takes the backbone, breaks it, and sucks
on it.

Fish scales shine in his hair, blood covers his chest.

EXT.  OCEAN - NIGHT

The raft rocks gently.  Chuck looks up.  The strips of fish
are glowing.  So is the deck where he killed the fish.

He reaches out to touch the fish strips.  His hand is glowing
too.

                     CHUCK
          I'm an angel.

Suddenly he sees other lights.  A ship.  A ship is out there.
And he hears it, a humming in deep register.

He waves his hands.  He yells.

                     CHUCK
          Here!  Here!

His voice cracks, we can barely hear it over the ocean.

The lights move on.

                     CHUCK
          No...no...no...

His raft is rocked by the wake, rocked hard.  Chuck is thrown
into the water!

He comes to the surface, sputtering.  Where is the raft?

He looks one way, then another.  Darkness.

This is the worst.

He turns again in the water.  There, dimly, he can see the
glow from the fish he killed.  The glow saves his life.

He swims toward it.

He pulls himself back on the raft.

He lies there exhausted, the glow from the phosphorescence
casting a greenish light on his face.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Clouds are building up.  In the distance lightning flashes.
The clouds come closer.

Little bits of electricity jump off the mast.  Saint Elmos
fire jumps around Chuck's hand.

Fascinated, he holds out his hand.  The fire jumps from his
hand to the mast.

Suddenly lightning shoots from the sky and strikes the ocean!
A huge spout of water explodes like a depth charge.  The
CRACK is intense, then rolls away.

Chuck stares, then realizes the danger and throws himself
down on the raft.  Suddenly a wall of rain sweeps over him
and the ocean begins to roll.  The thunder is deafening.
Lightning flashes bursts through the rain.

                     CHUCK
          Sea anchor!  Let out the sea anchor!

Frantic, Chuck lets out the sea anchor as the raft scuds down
a huge wave.  The anchor catches, slowing the raft so that it
rides the wave down.

The waves come at him high as houses.  The raft rides up one
side, then plunges down the next.

All Chuck can do is hold on.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

The storm has passed.  The raft floats on big dark rollers.

We hear the chirping and squeaking of dolphins.  They come
close to the raft.  Chuck watches them play.  Then realizes
they are chasing his fish.  They drive them along, into the
path of another dolphin, who darts in and rips into the
dorado, turning the water around the raft into churning,
bloody foam.

                     CHUCK
          Stop!

He takes his oar and begins beating the water.  The killing
continues.

                     CHUCK
          You fucking murderers!

Suddenly the water is still.  One dolphin sticks its head out
of the water and stares at Chuck, squeaking.

Another dolphin lifts its head up, then another.  They squeak
to each other, clearly communicating and talking about Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          I know you're talking about me!

He splashes the water with his oar.

They dive, then jump into the air, squeaking as they go.

                     CHUCK
               (very softly)
          Take me with you.

They're gone.

                     CHUCK
          Why me?  Why me, God?

He begins to laugh.

                     BADCHUCK
          Listen to this, Wilson.
               (deep voice: God)
          Because you piss me off.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY

Chuck tries to stretch with some simple yoga.  Each movement
takes forever.

He rolls over onto his stomach and tries to do a pushup.  He
can't.  Collapses onto the raft.

                     BADCHUCK
          You're falling apart.

Tries to do another pushup.  Can't.

                     BADCHUCK
          First you eat your fat, then you eat your
          muscle.

He rolls over.

                     BADCHUCK
          Then you eat your mind.

He looks at the ocean.  They're in a line of garbage, a thick
slick of debris dumped off of ships.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Roll on you deep and dark blue ocean
          roll.

He closes his eyes.  After a minute they come open.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I'm late, I'm late, for a very important
          date.

They slowly close again.

                     BADCHUCK
          I'm lost.  Goodbye.

                     GOODCHUCK
          No!

His eyes come open again.

                     BADCHUCK
          Look, just slip off the raft.  The ocean
          would feel so good, the water's so soft
          and warm.  Take a little swim.  Sleep.

                     GOODCHUCK
          You quitter you quitter you quitter.

                     BADCHUCK
          The sea is lovely, dark and deep.

                     GOODCHUCK
          But I have promises to keep.
               (rolls over)
          And miles to go before I sleep.
               (props himself up)
          And miles to go before I sleep.
               (purpose now)
          Got to fix the sea anchor.  Use the sail.

                     BADCHUCK
          Use the sail for a sea anchor and you
          won't move.

                     GOODCHUCK
          If I don't have a sea anchor I'll
          capsize.

                     BADCHUCK
          Die tomorrow or die today.

He hums Beethoven's fifth.  BA BA BA BUM.

                     BADCHUCK
          That's death knocking, knocking on your
          door.  Crazy little woman come knocking,
          knocking at my front door...

                     GOODCHUCK
          Grow up, stop being such a baby.  Other
          people get through a lot worse.

                     BADCHUCK
          Yeah, sure, what?

He hums to himself, begins to sing, Beatles.

                     BADCHUCK
          I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink...

He pulls in the loose sea anchor rope, which is covered with
barnacles.

He scrapes the barnacle off the rope into the water jug, then
sips it.

The sun is setting, huge rays shoot out across the sky.

Out of the empty ocean the Dorados suddenly appear, leaping
flashes of silver right by the raft.

One Dorado swims right by the raft, broadside.

Chuck looks at it, uncomprehending.  Then slowly reaches for
his spear.

                     GOODCHUCK
          What?  Are you sacrificing yourself for
          me?

Carefully he comes to his feet, then shoots the spear into
the fish.

Flapping and struggling, it lands on the deck.  Chuck pounces
on it.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER

He cuts it open.  The other Dorados ram the raft in fury,
like a lynch mob.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Damn it!  I had to do it!

The banging continues.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I'm sorry!

He concentrates on his work, then sits back on his heels in
amazement.  There's another fish inside.  He holds that fish
up, stares at it, then cuts it open.

There's a smaller fish inside it.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I know there's a moral here, God, but
          right now I'm just going to eat.

He pops out an eyeball, then another, and crunches them
between his teeth.

He takes the heart and liver, starts to eat, then stops.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Forgot to say grace.  Sorry Mom.

He struggles to remember.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts and
          Christ and the bounty about to receive,
          or something...amen.

He eats them.

EXT.  RAFT - NEXT MORNING

Chuck splashes sea water on his face.  Adjusts the water
still.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Please don't leak.  Please.

Chuck picks up the smallest fish.  It's half digested.  He
washes it in the ocean, trigger fish come up and nibble at
his fingers.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Don't look at me.  It was that Dorado.

He cuts the small fish and hangs it on the stays.

                     GOODCHUCK
          You know, Wilson, every now and then we
          should say thank you.  Thank you God.

                     BADCHUCK
          Thank you for fucking up my life.

Suddenly something bumps the raft.  Hard.  Then again.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Not again.

Fins cut the water.  SHARKS.  A big hammerhead bumps the
raft.  BadChuck hums the theme from "Jaws."  Chuck takes his
spear stabs at the shark.

                     BADCHUCK
          He's going to get you, going to get
          you...

Another one circles in, bumps the raft.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Get away from me!

The shark circles again, that big hammerhead like a
nightmare.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Get him get him get him.

He stabs at it with his spear.  He might as well have stabbed
concrete.  The shark circle, Chuck stabs again.

But the shark is gone.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Where are you?  Where are you?

Stabs again and again at the empty ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Stop!  You're using energy.  Move slowly.
          Be patient.

Chuck kneels, wavering, on the raft.  The ocean is calm.

Suddenly, BUMP.  The raft tilts.

Chuck hangs on.

Then a shark appears, just out of spear range.  Its lifeless
black eyes seem to stare right through Chuck.

If the Dorado was a gift from God, this is a message from
Hell.

Then the shark is gone.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck lies back on the raft.  He is humming.

                     BADCHUCK
          What are you smiling about?  They'll be
          back.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I'm dancing on the roof of the Peabody
          Hotel.  With Kelly.

He smiles at the thought.

                     GOODCHUCK
          The music ends.  We go back to the table.
          The waiters have brought dinner.  New
          York Strip with Bordelaise Sauce.
          Mushrooms in brown gravy.  Roasted
          potatoes with garlic and rosemary.  Green
          Beans with almonds.  Fresh biscuits and
          cornbread, dripping with butter.  A nice
          salad with ranch dressing.  A jumbo
          shrimp cocktail.

Thinks about that, it spoils the picture.

                     GOODCHUCK
          No shrimp.
               (then)
          We eat.

He closes his eyes.  This is the greatest fantasy.

                     GOODCHUCK
               (as the waiter)
          For dessert, we have pecan pie a la mode,
          we have a double chocolate cake with
          creme anglaise, we have a nice pear
          torte, fresh key lime pie, or perhaps if
          you care to wait a few minutes, a grand
          marnier souffle?

Chuck thinks over the options, thinking of each one.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Why, bring them all, bring them all.

He rolls over.  There, square in his vision, is a ship, its
form coming in and out of a low haze.

Chuck jumps to his feet.  Waves.  Screams.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Here!  Over here!

The ship moves on.  We can see the decks the rigging, the
vastness of it.

Chuck realizes he is naked.  Struggles to pull on the remains
of his pants finally holds them like a diaper with one hand
as he continues to wave.

On the ship no one is to be seen.  It is a spooky sight.

The big tanker moves on.

We are on Chuck's face.  Passed up again.

Then he realizes what is about to happen.  He throws out the
sea anchor.

He throws himself onto the raft and grips it as tight as he
can, wiggles his feet into the ropes.

                     CHUCK
          Oh, shiiiittt!

Then comes the wake of the ship.  It rocks the raft like a
piece of flotsam.  The raft rides high up on the wave, then
shoots down it, but the sea anchor holds, and the raft slows
and rides along with the wave.

And then the sea is calm again.

Slowly Chuck sinks to his knees.  His hand lets loose his
pants.

He lies down on the raft and imagines the conversation with
the ship's captain.

                     CHUCK
          Permission to come aboard, sir.

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN
          Permission granted.

                     CHUCK
          May I ask, where are you bound?

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN
          San Francisco.  And you?

                     CHUCK
          As it happens, I'm headed for Frisco
          myself.

                     CHUCK/CAPTAIN
          Would you do us the honor of joining us?
          We're just sitting down at mess.  Pork
          chops and gravy, cranberries, baked
          potatoes with all the trimmings, fresh-
          baked bread, apple pie...

                     CHUCK
          No please, join me.  Some sundried fish
          strips, a few eyeballs, some gills to
          munch on.

The depression comes back again.

                     BADCHUCK
          They're never going to see you.  You're
          just another piece of trash in the ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK
          They're on autopilot.

                     BADCHUCK
          They're always on autopilot.  Or else
          it's night, or you're in the sun, or
          you're in the trough of a wave.  They'll
          never see you.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Damn it!  Don't be so negative!

Chuck picks up Wilson.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Wilson, what's your story?

He holds Wilson close to his chest.

                     BADCHUCK
          I float.  You sink.  End of story.

                     GOODCHUCK
          I'm serious.  I'm always going on about
          me, me, me.  Enough about me.  Your turn.

                     BADCHUCK
          It's a fucking soccer ball, you idiot.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Shut up.

He lies on the raft and holds Wilson close.

We move up until we see --

EXT.  OCEAN - AERIAL - EVENING

Chuck lying curled up on the raft, Wilson cradled in his
arms, and all around the vast empty ocean.

EXT.  OCEAN - NEXT MORNING

Chuck slowly wakes up.  Sets Wilson aside.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Don't shirk, don't procrastinate, don't
          be lazy.  We're okay today.  We're okay
          today.

And the other Chuck begins to laugh.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Shut up.

The laughter goes on.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Shut the fuck up!  I mean it.

He stands up and checks the horizon.

                     GOODCHUCK
          What's so damn funny?

                     BADCHUCK
          You are.

Suddenly Chuck sees something on the horizon.  A bank of
clouds.  A cone of -- land.

He squints, stares again.  The clouds part.  It looks like --
his island.

Chuck doesn't know whether to feel joy or despair.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Jesus.

                     BADCHUCK
          Look again, asshole.  It's a mirage.

Chuck squints.

                     GOODCHUCK
          It's real.

                     BADCHUCK
          Nothing out there but ocean.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Let's get a second opinion.  Wilson?
          What do you see?

Chuck picks up the soccer ball, holds it up, and stares out
at...ocean.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck slowly writes on the sail.

                     CHUCK
          Chuck Noland.  Born October 8, 1958.
          Died -- pick a date -- July 11, 1998.
          And now the epitaph.  Met deadlines.
          Kept appointments.  Lost without a trace.

He sits back, looks at the mock headstone.

                     BADCHUCK
          What did it matter if FedEx was five
          minutes late one day?  The next day we
          just start over again.

                     GOODCHUCK
          It matters.  We do the best we can,
          that's all we have.

                     BADCHUCK
          Then we've just got shit.

He goes on writing.

                     CHUCK
          I am writing this to remind myself to
          live a better life.  If I am lost,
          perhaps you who find this will be
          instructed to live a better live
          yourself.  Live each day.  Love your
          children.  Don't take anyone for granted.

                     BADCHUCK
          Is that it?  Life is a fucking Disney
          movie?

The waves begin to grow, the ocean turns a slate gray.  Far
above him, great frigate birds circle.  Suddenly one dives on
a booby which has caught a fish.  The great frigate bird
swoops all around the booby until, panicked, it drops the
fish, which plummets toward the sea.

With a graceful dive, the huge bird grabs the fish and then
soars up on a thermal, high into the sky.

Lightning flashes back and forth across the horizon, which is
turning black and dark.  Thunder rolls.

EXT.  RAFT - NIGHT

The raft goes up and down huge waves.  Every few seconds
lightning flashes, illuminating the raft and Chuck holding
desperately to it, his eyes wild with fear.

EXT.  RAFT - MORNING

The waves continue.  Chuck holds on, his face pale.

                     BADCHUCK
          You can't make it.

                     GOODCHUCK
          Shut up.  I don't feel like dying today.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

The sky clears.  The waves are still big.  The fish are back.
And then come the sharks, cutting through the water.  Chuck
can't get up to get his spear, he just has to watch as blood
darkens the water.

And then the sharks are gone.

Chuck comes to his knees slowly, then a big wave hits.
Wilson is swept into the ocean!

For a moment Chuck is uncomprehending.  He watches as Wilson
slowly floats away.

                     CHUCK
          Please, no sharks.

Then he dives in to the water!  Swims frantically after
Wilson.

Wilson floats away from him.  He swims, but he's so weak.
Finally he gets to Wilson.  He reaches out, but only pushes
the ball farther away.

It bobs on the waves.  Chuck treads water, exhausted.

Where is the raft?

                     CHUCK
          Jesus.  Jesus.  Jesus.

Then he turns back the other way.  The raft has drifted by
him.  He can go after Wilson, or he can go after the raft.

                     CHUCK
          Shit!  Wilson!

He swims toward the raft, barely moving.  No matter how hard
he swims, the raft seems to recede from him.

Finally he reaches it, hangs on the side, breathing hard,
choking, crying.

He struggles to pull himself on board.

But he is weak, so weak.  He can't do it.

Summoning some primitive reserve of strength, he tries again.
This time he slides on.

He lies on the raft, panting.

Then with all his strength he pulls himself to his feet,
holds on to the mast, scans the ocean for Wilson.

                     CHUCK
          Wilson!

Nothing but waves.

This is too much.  Chuck starts to cry.

EXT.  RAFT - DAY - LATER

Chuck takes a swallow of water, washes it around in his
mouth, then swallows.  With his wet tongue he licks his
cracked lips.

The sun breaks through the clouds.

With what strength he has left, Chuck raises the canopy,
fastens it.

He sits in the meager shade, his head between his knees.

Closes his eyes.  Just for a minute.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

A different sort of shadow crosses Chuck's face.  He opens
his eyes.

There, riding right beside his raft, is a ship, a huge rusty
tanker.  Someone shouts down in a language we don't
understand.

Chuck sits up, can't believe it.  Struggles to cover himself.

EXT.  OCEAN - DAY - LATER

Chuck is lifted up the rusted steel side of the boat in a
Jacob's ladder.

EXT.  SHIP - DAY - LATER

Chuck steps on board, can't support himself.

The crew gathers around.  None of them speak English, but
there is a spontaneous outburst of human connection.

One man brings some water.  Another a blanket.  Another some
warm tea.

Chuck sits there, shivering now.

                     CHUCK
          Thank you.  Oh thank you.

Deliriously happy.  Delirious.

INT.  U.S. NAVAL HOSPITAL - HAWAII

A cavernous hanger-sized ward brightly lit and filled with
row upon row of hospital beds, each with its table, side
chair, and lamp, each with a stainless steel bedpan and
neatly folded sheets and blankets stacked ready to use, and
each completely empty.

Except for one.

And on that bed we see Chuck, in a blue hospital gown.  An IV
drips into his arm.  He plays idly with the remote control of
the bed.  He raises the head, then the foot.  He pushes
another button and the knee rest bends the bed again.

A DOCTOR enters, carrying a thick chart.  Chuck gives him a
big manic grin.  Malcolm MacDowell in "A Clockwork Orange."

                     CHUCK
          My favorite doctor.  What's the verdict?

                     DOCTOR
          Under the circumstances your overall
          health is good.  Those salt water boils
          you picked up on the raft are ulcerated,
          but they're healing nicely.

He checks his blood work records.

                     DOCTOR
          Hemoglobin's 10.8 -- you're anemic,
          that's why we're giving you iron.
          Potassium's low -- we're giving you an
          electrolyte solution with your IV.
          Sodium's over 150, way too high.  You may
          experience swelling in your extremities
          as you rehydrate and discharge the salt.
          In spite of your dietary deficiencies
          there's no sign of mental deterioration.

Chuck has been trying not to laugh.  Now he can't stop
himself.

                     DOCTOR
          What's so funny.

Chuck can't seem to help laughing at everything.

                     CHUCK
          Sorry...sorry... Why do my joints still
          ache?

                     DOCTOR
          Dehydration.  Vitamin deficiency.
          Protein deficiency.  Any or all of the
          above.

                     CHUCK
          All I ate was fish.  That's solid
          protein.

                     DOCTOR
          Protein digestion is very costly in water
          usage.

                     CHUCK
          Which I didn't have.

                     DOCTOR
          And fish are very low in fat, which is
          energy inefficient.  So you're going to
          burn up your own cells no matter how much
          you eat.  Luckily you ate the eyes and
          pancreas, which contain some Vitamin C,
          so you didn't get scurvy.

Chuck laughs again.

                     CHUCK
          I am one lucky guy.

                     DOCTOR
          Your body chemistry and your exposure to
          the elements would normally lead to
          irritability, depression, anxiety,
          periods of self-reproach.  It's almost
          like schizophrenia.  Different sides of
          your personality might come to life,
          speak out, act out.

                     CHUCK
          But all that's behind me.  I'm fine now.

He starts to laugh again.

                     DOCTOR
          If you say you are.

                     CHUCK
          I most definitely say I am.

                     DOCTOR
          Doctor Hegel tells me he discussed the
          Vietnam POW syndrome with you.

Chuck stifles his laughter.

                     CHUCK
          Yes, yes he did.

                     DOCTOR
          You are aware of the potential
          disruptiveness on your loved ones when
          you return to your old life?

                     CHUCK
          Not to mention on me.

The laughter again.  Unsettling.

                     DOCTOR
          You sure you don't want some counseling?

Chuck gives his biggest smile.

                     CHUCK
          Doc, I'm not on the island.  I'm not on
          the raft.  I'm alive.  I'm so glad to be
          back, I can't tell you.  I just want out
          of here.

                     DOCTOR
          Well, when that IV runs out, you're
          through with us.  Just the dentist
          tomorrow.

INT.  HOSPITAL - NIGHT - LATER

Rolling his IV, Chuck walks very slowly out of the ward.
Every step is an effort.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER

A small windowless room with only a desk and a phone, lit by
a fluorescent lamp.  Chuck is listening to the phone ring.

Kelly answers.

                     KELLY (V.O.)
          Hello.

Chuck is overcome for a moment, can't say a word.

                     KELLY (V.O.)
          Hello?  Hello?

For some reason he can't keep himself from laughing.  He
covers the mouthpiece and laughs.

And then we hear a dial tone, harsh, mechanical, final.

EXT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER

We can see Chuck inside, staring at the phone.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER

We hear a faint persistent hum.  Chuck looks around, trying
to locate the sound.  He looks up, focuses on the fluorescent
light, that background sound he can no longer tune out, then
picks up the phone again.

EXT.  PHONE CUBICLE

Stan answers the phone.

                     STAN (V.O.)
          Hello?

                     CHUCK
          Stan, it's Chuck...Chuck Noland...

The laughter again.

                     STAN (V.O.)
          Whoever you are, you are one sick fucker.

And again we hear the dial tone.

INT.  PHONE CUBICLE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck's on the phone again.

                     CHUCK
          Two Valium and the Rolling Stones.  That
          ring a bell?

There's a long silence.  Then we hear Stan's voice.

                     STAN (V.O.)
          God damn!  God damn!  Chuck, it's you!

                     CHUCK
          It's me.

                     STAN (V.O.)
          You're fucking dead!

                     CHUCK
          I'm most definitely not dead.  And as I
          recall, you're the sick fucker.

Chuck begins to laugh, a little too loud, a little too
shrill.  He's on a high.

EXT.  HAWAII - BEACH RESTAURANT

A terrace by the ocean.  Tables filled with diners.  Food
being delivered by waiters.  So simple, eating.  So taken for
granted.

At one table sits Chuck, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and
shorts, with a half-dozen plates in front of him.  He
gestures to the waiter.  Bring me more.  It all tastes so
damned good.

Behind him is the ocean.  Chuck doesn't glance at it.

INT.  DENTIST - NEXT DAY

An attractive DENTAL TECHNICIAN with an Australian accent
cleans Chuck's teeth with an ultrasound device.  She's close,
very close.  Chuck looks up at her.  She looks really good.
She smiles at him, then touches the gap where he knocked out
his tooth.

                     TECHNICIAN
          You sure you don't want to have the
          implant done here?  We do quite good
          work.

Chuck shakes his head:  no.  She scrapes behind his front
teeth.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Hmmm, you do have such a lot of tarter
          behind these front incisors.  A little
          wider, please.

Chuck opens his mouth even further.  The technician talks on
in the self-absorbed way dental technicians sometimes do,
that constant babble of human contact which Chuck has not
heard for four years.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Anyway, so the second prosthetic foot
          worked better, but he still couldn't
          drive his new Cortina, it being a
          standard shift, if you follow me.

Chuck nods.  I follow you.

                     TECHNICIAN
          But would he hear of me driving him
          around?  Not on your bloody life.  Rinse
          please.

Chuck does.  Stan bursts into the room.

                     STAN
          Chuck!  God damn!

Chuck struggles out of the chair.

                     STAN
          God damn.  God damn.  God damn.

They are both almost overcome.  Stan holds Chuck by the
shoulders and looks at him.

                     STAN
          You're alive, you're fucking alive!

Chuck laughs, thrilled to see Stan.

                     CHUCK
          I beat the odds!

                     STAN
          You beat 'em to shit, pal!  Jesus!

                     TECHNICIAN
          I still need to floss you.

Stan notices the technician.

                     STAN
          Hello.

                     CHUCK
          This is Amber.  Her boyfriend lost his
          foot in a shark attack.

He says this with an absolute straight face, holding back the
laughter with great effort.  Instantly there's this
connection again between him and Stan.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Ex-boyfriend.

                     STAN
          Really.

And he and Chuck make eye contact and we see a glimpse of
their shared unspoken irony.

                     STAN
          Uh, there's somebody out here who wants
          to see you.

Chuck stares sharply at him.  Kelly?  Stan nods, but there's
something he wants to say.

                     STAN
          She thought you were dead.  We all did.

That's not all Stan wants to say.  But Chuck is limping out
the door.

INT.  DENTIST - WAITING ROOM

Typical dentist waiting room.  Chairs, tropical fish tanks,
magazines, a few waiting patients...and Kelly, looking
nervous.

Slowly and painfully Chuck enters.  He's quite a sight.  She
stands up.  There's a long moment where they look at each
other.

Then she comes into his arms.  Holds him tight.  She's part
laughing, part crying.

                     KELLY
          I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

                     CHUCK
          Hey...hey...it's okay!

Chuck is happy, he's still riding the high.

                     KELLY
          You're so thin.  Am I hurting you?

Well, maybe a little, but who cares?  He hasn't been hugged
or barely touched in so long.

                     CHUCK
          No...no...feels good...

She disengages, looks at him with that old smile.

                     KELLY
          Right back, you said you'd be right back.

                     CHUCK
          A few things came up.  Or went down.

He meets her gaze, looks her over with a smile.

                     CHUCK
          You look...wonderful.  I like your hair.

He notices the ring on her hand.

                     KELLY
          I got married.

                     CHUCK
          I thought you might have.

                     KELLY
          I would never --

                     CHUCK
          I know.

                     KELLY
          If I'd known you were alive --

                     CHUCK
          I would have done the same thing.

His responses come so quick.  Chuck seems blissfully sure of
himself.

                     KELLY
          I didn't want to.  It just happened.  One
          day Gary was there.  He took care of
          everything.  He took care of me.  I was a
          mess.

                     CHUCK
          You have any children?

Kelly nods.

                     CHUCK
          Got a picture?

Kelly fishes for a photo, shows it to Chuck.  It's a little
girl with a dog.

                     KELLY
          Her name's Hannah.

                     CHUCK
          Is that Jango?

                     KELLY
          No, this is Jack.  Jango was hit by a UPS
          truck.  Can you believe it?

Chuck laughs.  It is funny, sort of.

                     CHUCK
          Life's just one big joke after another.

Stan appears, takes in the scene.  The few patients waiting
are edged into the corners, trying to look occupied with
something else.

                     STAN
          How about we go somewhere else?

                     CHUCK
          Want to see my raft?

EXT.  HAWAII - DAY

Chuck's raft sits up on a dock.  Kelly stands staring at it.
How small and fragile it looks.

                     STAN
          This stinks really bad.

                     CHUCK
          You should have smelled me.

Stan examines the ropes around the logs.

                     STAN
          Cool ropes.

                     CHUCK
          I braided them.

                     STAN
          Must have taken a hell of a long time.

                     CHUCK
          Time I had lots of.

Kelly points at something on the raft.

                     KELLY
          What's that?

                     CHUCK
          That's my sea anchor.  My second one.
          Made it out of part of the sail.  It
          keeps you from capsizing in a storm.  In
          theory.
               (picks up his still)
          And this, this I used to collect water.
          About half a cup a day.

He's not feeling sorry for himself.  It's just a fact.

                     STAN
          You were how long on this?

                     CHUCK
          Forty-three days.

They look at the tiny raft.  It speaks for itself.

                     KELLY
          All that time I waited to go on a cruise,
          and you went without me.

                     CHUCK
          Yeah, well...couldn't be helped.

Kelly notices the sail, sees the writing on it.

                     KELLY
          What's that, written on the sail?

                     CHUCK
          My epitaph.

Kelly reads it to herself.  Her eyes are moist.

                     CHUCK
          Bad body chemistry.  Made me a little
          morbid.  But I'm all over that now.

And he seems really to believe it.

                     STAN
          I'll be at the car.
               (to Kelly)
          Take you to the airport.

And he leaves.

                     KELLY
          I buried you, Chuck.  They had to pry my
          fingers off your coffin.

This interests Chuck to no end.

                     CHUCK
          There was a coffin?

                     KELLY
          Yeah, coffin, headstone, the whole thing.

                     CHUCK
          What was inside?

                     KELLY
          Your calendar, your cell phone, your whoo
          pig sooey hat, some pictures of that
          ketch you wanted.

                     CHUCK
          That about sums it up.

                     KELLY
          Maybe now's when you tell me about it.

                     CHUCK
          The plane went down.  My friends died.  I
          washed up on an island.  Then I found
          these barrels, built the raft, and here I
          am.

                     KELLY
          Yeah?

                     CHUCK
          The tide came in, the tide went out.  I
          survived.  That's the headline.  I
          survived.

                     KELLY
          Don't overwhelm me with the details.
               (she smiles remembering)
          You know how I hate that.

He tries to put it into words, isn't quite sure how.

                     KELLY
               (gently)
          Come on.  Try.

                     CHUCK
          Cliches, mainly.  Don't take anyone for
          granted.  Don't sweat the small stuff.
          Live each day like it's your last.

                     KELLY
          So simple to say, so hard to do.

                     CHUCK
          Not when you have no choice.

Kelly looks down at the raft.  It's so small.

                     KELLY
          You hated being alone.  Couldn't stand
          it.  Busy every minute.  Always plugged
          into something.

                     CHUCK
          I didn't know what really being alone
          was.  No one back here does.

He has something more to say.  She waits.

                     CHUCK
          We're not meant to be alone.  Not like
          that.  Share life, that's what came to me
          out there.  Be with someone.

And that's the point, isn't it?  We are social animals.  No
man is an island.

                     KELLY
          This is so unfair.

                     CHUCK
          That's what I told the fish I caught.
          But I ate them anyway.

And the laughter comes again.  Kelly grins, embarrassed, a
little worried.

                     KELLY
          You okay?

                     CHUCK
          Great.  Really.

She stares at his face, reaches out, touches it again, this
time with great tenderness.

He nods, her touch feels so good.

A wave of emotion comes over her:  pity?  love?

                     KELLY
          What will you do?

                     CHUCK
          I don't know.  I really don't know.

We hear a distant beep-beep, discrete as a car horn can be.

                     KELLY
          I've got to get back to Memphis.
          Hannah's babysitter has finals.

                     CHUCK
          It means a lot...that you came.

                     KELLY
          I had to come.  To be sure you were okay.

They hold each other.  For a long time.

                     KELLY
          I love you, Chuck.

                     CHUCK
          You too.

                     KELLY
          I'm so glad you're alive.

Chuck grins.

                     CHUCK
          You too.

Then she heads for the waiting car.  Chuck stands by his
raft, watching her go.

INT.  FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT

Chuck and Stan ride on the plane.  Chuck is coming down off
his survival high.  He has the Angel Wing FedEx package with
him.

                     STAN
          When I first showed up, I thought you'd
          lost your fucking marbles.

                     CHUCK
          I never thought it would end.  Then it
          did.  It was so great to be saved, I
          couldn't stop laughing.

Stan pulls a flask out of his bag.

                     STAN
          You need a drink.

Stan takes two glasses from his bag, rests them on a FedEx
container, and pours the whiskey.

                     CHUCK
          For years my only drinking buddy was a
          soccer ball.  Wilson.

Stan hoists his glass.

                     STAN
          To Wilson.

                     CHUCK
          To Wilson.

Now's when Stan gets to the question he's been wanting to
ask, that Kelly wanted to know, that we all want to know.

                     STAN
          So, what's it all about?

Chuck stares at him.

                     STAN
          You've been over the line and you came
          back.  You've been saved, hallelujah!

                     CHUCK
          Hallelujah.

Stan looks over at him.

                     STAN
          I'm serious.  The burning bush, the big
          picture, the words in neon...

                     CHUCK
          What's it all about?  It's about being so
          thirsty you'd crush a fish's backbone to
          suck out the spinal fluid -- that's what
          it's about.

Stan sits back, repulsed but relieved.

                     STAN
          Do what it takes.  That's what I always
          told you.

He pours another drink.

                     STAN
          To life.  Fuck 'em if they can't take a
          joke.

                     CHUCK
          To life.

                     STAN
          That's all there is.

                     CHUCK
          Believe me I know.

He takes a sip of his drink, just savoring it, thinking.

                     CHUCK
          But it's not being bold or being in the
          game or rolling the dice.

All those things Stan used to tell him.

                     CHUCK
          When I was going crazy, on the raft, I'd
          argue with myself about everything.
          Because everything had a price.  To get
          anything -- a sip of water, a little
          corner of shade, an hour's sleep -- I had
          to let go of something else.  And then I
          could never get it back.

He thinks some more.

                     CHUCK
          You don't win or lose.  You win and lose.

He looks out the window.

                     CHUCK
          You win and lose.

And Chuck has.  Big time.

EXT.  MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT

A FedEx MD-11 lands.

EXT.  MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - MOMENTS LATER

The MD-11 taxis up.  As usual, the SuperHub is a frenzy of
activity.  A loading crew stands ready, forklifts poised.
Even this plane carries packages.

PHIL STEELE, the chairman of FedEx, Leslie, Becca, Dick, and
other executives wait on a special podium near the gangway.
Everyone looks different -- older, a mustache here, a
thickening around the belly there.

Behind a barrier a cluster of cameras film the scene.

The plane cuts its engine.  The stairs are rolled out.
Forklifts and gangways move forward.  Cargo doors open.
Chuck appears in the door.  He holds the FedEx Package and a
small travel bag.

Chuck blinks against the lights and the glare.  Stan is right
by him.  Everyone bursts into APPLAUSE AND CHEERING.

After four years of total solitude this is completely
overwhelming.

                     STAN
          Smile.

Chuck smiles.

                     STAN
          Wave.

And Chuck waves.  He's overwhelmed by all the input.  Stan
steers Chuck down the steps as the cheers continue.

At the bottom of the steps Roger steps forward.  The two
brothers embrace each other.  After a moment Roger
disengages.  Mary gives Chuck a hug.

                     MARY
          Oh Chuck --

                     CHUCK
          Where's Mom?

                     ROGER
          Waiting for you.  At the farm.  This was
          too much --

He looks around at the crowds.

                     CHUCK
          Tell me about it.

Stan nudges Chuck.  Time to go to the podium.

                     ROGER
          Glad you made it, big brother.

Stan and Chuck head for the podium.  All the loaders and
operators and package scanners begin to applaud.  Chuck
smiles, then laughs, getting into the emotion.  He keeps up
an almost indecipherable babble underneath the cheering.
Occasionally he sees someone he knows.

                     CHUCK
          Wow.  Thank you.  Great.  Thank you.
          Hey, Rasheed, how you doing?  Thank you
          all.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - WIDE

Chuck makes his triumphant way through this amazing
collection of cheering people like Moses parting the Red Sea.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - PLATFORM

With a big smile Phil Steele holds out his hand to Chuck.

                     STEELE
          Welcome home.

He steps to the microphone and addresses the SuperHub.

                     STEELE
          This is an extraordinary moment.  And it
          should be marked in an extraordinary way.
          With something we have never done since
          this company was founded.
               (pause)
          Stop the line!

EXT.  SUPERHUB - SERIES OF SHOTS

All over the SuperHub, belts come to a halt.  Forklifts stop.
Tracking stations shut down.  The vast flow of packages is
suddenly still.  The incredible din of activity is suddenly
quiet.  The stillness and the silence are unexpected and
palpable.  Thousands of workers stop as well, staring either
up at Chuck directly or at his image on video screens.  We
hear Phil's voice piped in.

EXT.  SUPERHUB - PLATFORM

Phil holds a plaque.

                     STEELE
          Four years ago we placed this plaque in
          honor of Charles Noland, and two just
          like it in honor of Al Morris and John
          Durham, the two brave pilots who went
          down with him.

As he talks, we stay on Chuck, who is taking in this amazing
scene, not really listening.

                     STEELE
          Chuck endured years of hardship and
          loneliness.  Like Lazarus, Chuck has come
          back from the dead.  Chuck, this is your
          family, all of us.  So it gives me great
          pleasure...to take this plaque...and to
          present it to our long lost son.  Welcome
          home.

He hands the plaque to Chuck.  Chuck acknowledges the cheers
of the crowd.

                     CHUCK
          Thank you.  Thank you very much...

Everyone applauds.

                     CHUCK
          Give me a minute.  I've spent four years
          looking out at an empty ocean.

He laughs, a short brittle laugh, composes himself.

                     CHUCK
          It's all so -- big.  You never think
          you'll miss -- all this.  But I did.  I
          really, really did.  And I missed all of
          you.

He looks over at the hub.

                     CHUCK
          You've added some new belts, and what's
          that?

He points at some high tech equipment on the edge of the
shed.

                     STAN
          Digital laser readers.

                     CHUCK
          Digital laser readers.  Wow.  Terrific.

He looks around at everyone, doesn't know what else to say.

                     CHUCK
          I've never heard it this quiet.
          Shouldn't you all be getting back to
          work?

The tension is broken.  Everyone laughs.  Phil Steele motions
with his hand.  Let it be done.

ANOTHER ANGLE - WIDE

The vast, incredible machinery creaks to a start.  Everyone
shakes Chuck's hand as he leaves the podium.

As he heads for the car, REPORTERS shout questions.

INT.  CAR - MEMPHIS FREEWAY

We are assaulted by a surge of light, motion, activity.
Snaking lines of traffic in both directions, big overpasses,
the city rising beyond.

Stan drives with a certain aggressiveness.  Chuck looks out
at the traffic, at all the activity, at the vast intricate
anthill of humanity going everywhere and nowhere.

                     CHUCK
          Take your time.

                     STAN
          What?

                     CHUCK
          That's what it's about.

                     STAN
          Being patient.  Don't rush things.  I get
          it.

He swerves into another lane.

                     CHUCK
          Not just that.  Take your time.  Use it.
          Live it.

                     STAN
          Deep, real deep.

He grins, cuts across to the exit.

                     STAN
          So where to?  The office?  The hotel?
          The beach?

Chuck stares at him.  Are you kidding?

                     STAN
          What, then?

                     CHUCK
          Deliver this package.  Then, I dunno.

                     STAN
               (re: the package)
          You want that delivered, we'll deliver
          it.  That's what we do.

                     CHUCK
          I need to do it.

                     STAN
          Finish what you started.  You haven't
          changed, Chuck.  It's still you.

Right.

                     CHUCK
          You want to help, help me find the woman
          who sent this.

INT.  OPERATIONS CENTER - DAY

Stan and Chuck are in the office of a TECHNICIAN who is
working away at his computer.  The Technician pulls the bar
code from the Angel Wing FedEx box up on his computer screen.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Okay.  After three years the PTR reverts
          to tape storage, which is okay because we
          access it through the CPC.  Here it is.
               (gestures at computer map)
          Ten packages from the same sender.  Baku.
          Delhi.  St. Petersburg.  The guy was a
          real road warrior.  This package was
          Kuala Lampur.  No activity in his account
          after this package.  No forwarding
          addresses after K.L.

                     CHUCK
          What about the sender?

                     TECHNICIAN
          Sure.  Bettina Peterson.  Marfa, Texas.
          Let's run a current check.

He works some keys, waits.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Hmmm.  Durango, Colorado; Asheville,
          North Carolina, then...canceled her
          account.

                     CHUCK
          Can you find her?

                     TECHNICIAN
          You're looking at a Level III search.
          For your Level III, you gotta have E-4
          authorization.  I don't have it.

                     STAN
          I do.

He holds out a badge.

                     TECHNICIAN
          Okay, let's let it rip.

He starts to pull up the data.

                     CHUCK
          Thanks.  For everything.

                     STAN
          No sweat.

EXT.  CHUCK'S MOTEL - THAT NIGHT

Chuck leaves the motel, the Angel Box under his arm.  He ties
it into a pannier on the side of a bicycle.

EXT.  MEMPHIS - CHICKASAW GARDENS - NIGHT

Chuck sneaks up to a craftsman cottage and stands by a tree
with a swing on it.  Inside we see Kelly making dinner for
her husband, who plays with their daughter.  For a moment
Chuck watches through the window, and we watch with him.
Then the dog begins to bark.

EXT.  CEMETERY - NIGHT

Chuck walks through the cemetery late at night.  He comes to
his gravestone, stares for a long moment at the inscription,
then takes out a spray can of paint and puts a HANDPRINT on
it.

He gets back on his bicycle and rides away.

EXT.  HIGHWAY - DAY

Chuck rides his bicycle down a road leading into the South.

EXT.  FREEWAY - DAY

Chuck negotiates an overpass crossing an Interstate Highway.
Headed in both directions, cars whoosh by beneath him.

EXT.  HIGHWAY - DUSK - LATER

Chuck rides down a narrow road, shrouded in mist.  Moss drips
from the trees reaching over the road.  A car goes by.  Then
another, their lights like halos in the fog.  It's a mystical
scene, a passage.

EXT.  ARKANSAS - NIGHT

Chuck gets off his bicycle in the rain and walks toward a
roadside cafe.

INT.  CAFE - NIGHT

Chuck draws on a paper place mat as he waits for his meal at
a counter.  Above the counter the television plays.

                     ANNOUNCER
          And here's more from Dingo Dodd, our
          Australian correspondent, on the
          extraordinary story of Chuck Noland, the
          modern Robinson Crusoe.

The waitress sets a plate down in front of Chuck, turns to
watch.

On the TV we see an Australian correspondent standing on
Chuck's beach.

                     DINGO DODD
          Shark infested waters!  A deserted
          island!  Surrounded by reefs!  Accessible
          only by helicopter!  For four years Chuck
          Noland survived here alone, eating fish,
          coconuts and clams, his only companion a
          soccer ball.

Chuck is staring at the screen, seeing his cave, seeing all
those years.

                     DINGO DODD
          I'm now in Chuck's cave where he passed
          the lonely nights, painting on the walls
          like some prehistoric caveman.  What did
          Chuck feel?  These paintings tell the
          story, but only Chuck knows what they
          mean.  And he's not talking.

On the screen we see a photograph of Chuck.

The waitress looks over at Chuck.  The other clients look at
him too.

                     CHUCK
          Check, please.

The waitress comes over.

                     WAITRESS
          No charge, honey.  But could you just
          sign that place mat for me?

Chuck looks down at his doodling.  Hesitates.  Then signs his
name.

INT.  TYSON'S CHICKEN - ARKANSAS - DAY

Thousands of chicken carcasses hanging on hooks circle
through the huge processing plant, a vast structure on the
scale of the SuperHub or the Hospital.

Chuck's Mom, dressed in white with a hairnet, enters a
windowed office in the b.g.  Through the window we see her
hug Chuck.

INT.  TYSON'S CHICKEN - OFFICE - ARKANSAS - DAY

We are in the office now.  Chuck's Mom's eyes are moist.

                     CHUCK
          When'd you start working here?

                     MOM
          Roger got me on.  I wasn't doing
          anything, and -- but you're back, you're
          really back.  I would have come to
          Memphis, but --

                     CHUCK
          I wanted to come here.

INT.  FRAME HOUSE - ARKANSAS - DAY

Chuck eats a Southern fried drumstick.  The table is full of
home-cooked food.

                     MOM
          Have some more potato salad.

Chuck gestures, no, I'm full.  She puts down the spoon.

                     CHUCK
          That was great, Mom, just great.

He looks around the house, everything in its place.  His
mother has been here for forty years.  There's a big crack
running down from the ceiling.

                     CHUCK
          I've got all this back pay coming.  Why
          don't you let me get you a place in town?

                     MOM
          This is my home.  I'm part of the
          wallpaper.

She studies him for a moment.

                     MOM
          You miss it, don't you?  You miss that
          island.

He does, but that's not it entirely.

                     CHUCK
          Miss that island?  Mom, come on.

She looks at him.  She knows her boy.

                     MOM
          What a journey you've had.  It seems more
          than a person should have to bear.

                     CHUCK
          The tide saved me, Mom.  I lived by it.
          I'm just wondering where it will take me
          next.

She looks at him, thinks about this.

                     MOM
          Remember the family motto.  In time.  It
          will come to you, in time.

EXT.  ARKANSAS - DAY

Chuck rides away from the small neat frame house, down a
country lane with trailers up on blocks.

EXT.  GULF COAST - DAY

Chuck leaves a cheap motel as the sun comes up.

EXT.  MISSISSIPPI GULF COAST - DAY - LATER

Chuck rides on a ferry, the wind blowing his face.  The sky
is gray and drizzly.  He smells the salt water.  Watches the
waves.

EXT.  GAS STATION - DAY

Chuck asks for directions.  A kid in baggy pants and no shirt
points him down the road.

EXT.  GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck pulls some clothes out of his saddle bags.

EXT.  GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck emerges from the restroom wearing a FedEx shirt and
shorts.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER

A classic beach house.  Sand dunes, stilts.  Carrying the
Angel Wing Box under his arm, Chuck checks the address in his
hand.  Mounts the steps.  A light mist falls.  You can see
the Gulf behind the house, gray and moody.

A WOMAN, BETTINA, answers the door -- THE woman from the
beginning.  She wears cut-off jeans and a blue work shirt
covered with paint.  There's a tattoo on her ankle.

                     CHUCK
          FedEx for Bettina Peterson.

The woman stares in disbelief at the package she hasn't seen
in years and never expected to see again.

                     BETTINA
          Where did you get that?

Chuck displays a FedEx badge.

                     CHUCK
          Charles Noland.  FedEx Special Projects.

Bettina notices Chuck's bicycle.

                     BETTINA
          You came on a bicycle?  No wonder it's so
          late.

                     CHUCK
          There was an unavoidable delay.

Bettina stares at the package, her own memories coming back.

                     BETTINA
          Well, I have to say, I'm impressed.  You
          never gave up.

                     CHUCK
          No.

She holds the box and studies him for a long moment.
Something -- the look on his face, the extraordinary
reappearance of this long-lost package -- makes her curious.

                     BETTINA
          You know what happened to this?

                     CHUCK
          As much as anybody.

                     BETTINA
          Want to come in?  Get dry for a minute.

                     CHUCK
          Okay.  Sure.

She lets Chuck in the door.

INT.  HOUSE - DAY

Ladders.  Scaffolds.  Huge paintings are everywhere.
Paintings of wings and angels -- like the package.  Chuck
stares at them.  Bettina watches Chuck stare.

                     BETTINA
          I've got some coffee on.  Would you like
          some?

INT.  KITCHEN - LATER

Bettina pours some coffee.  The package sits in the counter.
Some magazines are spread around, including a People Magazine
with Chuck's photograph on the cover.

                     CHUCK
               (takes a sip)
          It's good.

They smile awkwardly at each other.  She starts to open it.

                     BETTINA
          Hmmm.  Feels like it might have gotten
          wet.

                     CHUCK
          Possible.  So you did those wings?

                     BETTINA
          Yeah.  A long time ago.

                     CHUCK
          They're harder to do than they look.

                     BETTINA
          Oh?  You've tried?

                     CHUCK
          Well, I do a little drawing --

She's opened the package.  She pulls out the bottles of salsa
and the letter.

                     CHUCK
          Our apologies that it never made it to
          the recipient.

                     BETTINA
          He was a sorry sonofabitch, and I'm sorry
          I ever married him.

There is a moment where neither knows what to say.

                     BETTINA
          You look familiar.

Her eyes start to register recognition.  She glances at the
magazine with Chuck's picture on it.  She picks it up.

                     BETTINA
          I can't believe this.  I -- I -- They
          are... You're a gifted artist.  You're
          into something very powerful.  Primal.
          Truly.

                     CHUCK
          Well, not really, I --

                     BETTINA
          You are.  Yes you are.
               (so many things she wants to
                say)
          What gave you the idea to paint on that
          cave?

Chuck thinks about that.  After a moment, he grins.

                     CHUCK
          To tell you the truth -- you did.

                     BETTINA
          Do you...have any more packages to
          deliver?

                     CHUCK
          No.  that was the last one.

                     BETTINA
          Just sit here, I'll get us some lunch.

Chuck sits back on the couch, taking in the sight of the
ocean in the light rain.  He looks over at all the canvases,
the easel, the palettes.  The wind rustles the palm trees
around the house.  The surf crashes and rustles.  Familiar
sounds.  Island sounds.

He relaxes a little.  Maybe the package with the wings was a
sign, he kept it all these years precisely for this.  Then
there's a sound of a truck in the driveway.

The engine cuts off.  There are steps on the porch.  The door
opens.  A tanned muscular MAN in neatly kept work clothes
comes in, hangs a tool belt on a hook by the door.

He looks at Chuck with a relaxed, even stare, as if seeing a
man in a FedEx uniform sitting on his couch is not an unusual
occurrence.

                     MAN
          Hey.

                     CHUCK
          Hey.

                     BETTINA (O.S.)
          In here!

The Man nods at Chuck, goes into the kitchen.  We are on
Chuck's face.  Who's this?  We hear muffled laughter from
inside.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER

Arms around each other, the Man and the Woman say goodbye to
Chuck.  In the front yard is a panel truck painted with two
angel wings.  The Man grins at Chuck, an easy, friendly grin.

                     MAN
          Come back anytime.  Coffee's always on.
          Don't even have to bring us a package.

                     CHUCK
          That was my last one.

Bettina hands Chuck a sheet of paper.

                     BETTINA
          The list of paints and brushes I did for
          you.

He takes it, not exactly sure he wants it.

                     BETTINA
          Keep painting.  Promise me.

                     CHUCK
          Sure.

EXT.  BEACH HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck rides his bicycle away, along the shore.

EXT.  BEACH - MINUTES LATER

Chuck rides along the beach.  Up ahead we see a FedEx truck.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck gets off his bike as a female FEDEX DRIVER puts chocks
under the wheels, which have stuck in the sand.

                     CHUCK
          Need some help?

                     DRIVER
          You bet I do.  High tide comes right up
          to this road.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

Chuck pushes on the truck as the driver gives it gas.  The
truck slowly pulls back onto the pavement.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

The Driver gets out of the truck with a grin.  She has an
open, friendly face.  There's an instant connection between
them.

                     DRIVER
          Hey, thanks.  I'd never have got that out
          by myself.

Looks at his uniform.  At the bike.

                     DRIVER
          You're not out of Pascagoula, are you?

                     CHUCK
          No.

Where is he from, anyway?

                     CHUCK
          I used to drive one of those.  A long
          time ago.

                     DRIVER
          Hey, once a driver, always a driver.  You
          want a lift?  I've just got one more
          pickup.

                     CHUCK
          Sure.

He picks up his bike.

INT.  FEDEX TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

The FedEx truck makes its way down the beach, Chuck in his
uniform, the Driver in hers.  Two FedEx people in a truck.
The Driver looks over at Chuck.

                     DRIVER
          You're Chuck Noland.

                     CHUCK
          Yeah.

                     DRIVER/ERICA
          I knew it!  You're a legend!  Mr.
          Robinson Crusoe.

                     CHUCK
          Well --

                     ERICA
          I knew I recognized you.  My name's
          Erica.

They smile at each other.  Then she smiles a little more.

                     ERICA
          Did you really steal a crippled kid's
          bicycle to make your deliveries, or is
          that just some bullshit story?

                     CHUCK
          I didn't steal it, and he wasn't
          crippled.

Erica laughs.

                     ERICA
          Otherwise it's completely true.

And that makes Chuck laugh, really laugh, for the first time.

                     CHUCK
          Yeah, completely.

She looks over at him with a grin.

                     ERICA
          What brings you out to the sticks?

                     CHUCK
          Had a package to deliver.

                     ERICA
          You?  Personally?

                     CHUCK
          I had it on the island with me.

                     ERICA
          Must be a story there.

There's a connection building here, effortlessly.

EXT.  BEACH - MOMENTS LATER

We are wide on the beach, watching the truck move along the
water, kicking up wisps of sand.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)
          Yeah, a long one.

                     ERICA (V.O.)
          I've got lots of time.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)
          So do I.

The truck goes down the beach and then turns inland, away
from the ocean.  Away from all that.

                     CHUCK (V.O.)
          So do I.

And we pull back, taking in the sweep of the beach, the
estuaries, and the green forest stretching back into America.

The end is the beginning.

FADE OUT.






Cast Away



Writers :   William Broyles Jr.
Genres :   Adventure  Drama


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