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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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Blood Brothers
A Screenplay by:
Sean Ryan
For my Dad.
Contact: seansshack@oceanfree.net
Registered with Screenwriter's Guild (c) 2005
INT. HELICOPTER HOLD - DAY
A group of marines sit in the passenger hold, of a
Blackhawk helicopter.
Dave, one of the marines, twenty two. Well built and
tanned, dressed in marine issue urban combat gear, sits
looking at the other marines in front of him.
The helicopter's rotors start to spin, as it prepares for take off.
DAVE (V.O.)
My name is David. Dave to my
friends. This is my story. I hope
is doesn't feel like some bad
country and western song.
A SERGEANT shouts some orders. A large built, African
American man, in his late thirties. The look on his face,
along with several showing scars, spell put combat
experience.
SERGEANT
(shouting)
Remember, we are going in hot.
Stay alert. Watch for snipers.
EXT. MARINE HELICOPTER PAD - DAY
The helicopter starts to take off. Sand kicks into the air,
in all directions.
It is accompanied by both a Blackhawk and a Chinook
transport copter.
INT. HELICOPTER HOLD - MOMENTS LATER
SERGEANT
(shouting)
OK. Lock and load.
With almost robotic precision, each of the men on the
helicopter starts to load their weapons.
Each marine loading a magazine of ammunition, checks the
weapon and loads a bullet into the rifle chamber.
Each marine looking disciplined, trained and experienced.
The flight carries the troops over several populated areas.
The scenery shows battle damaged houses and buildings.
Smoke raises from different locations.
Dave observes the ground below from the open door of the
copter.
DAVE (V.O.)
This was the first country
outside the USA I had been to. It
looks so peaceful from the air. A
sort of damaged beauty. The
helicopter rides were a roller
coaster ride, only better. You
really felt like a cog in a big
machine.
EXT. HELICOPTER LANDING PAD - MOMENT LATER
The helicopter touches down. The men disembark with
efficient speed. Running and covering each other, from
possible attack.
The copters take off and hovers the area. The door-mounted
gunner scans the area for possible threats.
The Sergeant relays hand signals and the marines start to
group into patrol formation.
Dave walks as part of the patrol, through a battle damaged
street.
Very few locals can be seen. A woman observes from a
window. A girl looks on from a trench, her father running
out to drag her into a house.
The patrol is heavily armed. Several armored Humvee's lead
and one is driven at the rear.
A Blackhawk helicopter roars overhead, kicking up sand from
the rooftops of several buildings.
Marines shield their faces from the mini sand storm.
DAVE (V.O.)
As long as I could remember, I
had always wanted to be a
soldier. The first time I stepped
foot on that sand. I felt so, so
fucking powerful. That armor on
my chest, that weapon in my
hands.
Dave grips the carbine rifle in his hands.
DAVE (V.O.)
For the first time in my life, I
felt like I finally belonged. I
felt like no one, nothing could
fuck with me. I was armor
platted. Army of one man.
Infucking destructible.
A man looks at Dave and then down at his feet, avoiding eye
contact.
Dave smiles to himself and continues his patrol.
DAVE (V.O.)
How quickly all that can change.
Dave walks past a parked Humvee. He nods at the soldier
manning the mounted machine gun.
The man nods back and smiles.
Suddenly the man is struck by something. His head rocks to
one side as part of his face disappears.
He falls to the ground, dead.
Dave freezes for a split second, before diving to the
ground, making himself a smaller target.
DAVE
(Shouting)
Incoming. Sniper!
He scans the area for possible attack positions. But cannot
focus in on a single attacker.
The attack seems to be coming from several directions.
Muzzle flashes from various windows, roof tops.
Dave tries to focus on one target, but the attacking fire
is too heavy.
DAVE (V.O.)
Veterans of combat will tell you
that skill and training is what
kept them alive. From my
experience, it's just pure luck.
A life lottery. Only this time,
you lose when your number comes
up.
He throws his weapon from side to side. Shooting at the
muzzle flashes. He attempts to lay down as much fire as
possible.
Men fall in all directions. The patrol has been caught off
guard and are now paying the price.
A medic runs to attend the man on the Humvee, but fails to
make it. A bullet meets it mark, in the centre of his chest
and he dies before his body impacts with the sand.
Dave crawls to him. Bullets hits spray sand into his face,
but he pushes on regardless.
He drags the medic away from the Humvee, just before the
vehicle rolls over him.
Dave drags the man behind a broken wall. He examines him,
finding the medic clearly dead.
DAVE
Dammit.
Dave leans his weapon over the top of the wall, firing
blindly.
He attempts to look over and almost looses his head as a
result. The top section of the wall almost explodes, under
bullet hits.
A fragment of stone propels from the impact, tearing a
small hole in Dave's check.
He yelps in pain and shock, but caries on without stopping
to examine his wounds.
A Blackhawk helicopter flies overhead. Its machine gunner
offering covering fire. The sounds from its guns and rotor,
almost deafening, drowning out everything else.
Dave talks the opportunity to run to another position,
under covering fire from above
He makes it halfway to his destination, when he is blown to
the ground by an explosion above. As the helicopter is hit
by an RPG.
The remains of the helicopter spins out of control, crash
landing only feet in front of him.
Men fall from the craft, burning and injured.
DAVE
Jesus fucking Christ.
Dave runs towards the aid of the pilots. But is driven back
by the flames, and sniper fire.
The burning men make easy targets and are shot before any
rescue can be attempted.
His Sergeant calls from the side of another building, after
observing Dave's movements.
SERGEANT
(shouting)
Get your fucking ass down!
Dave hesitates for one second too long, on where to run.
His doubt costs him dearly.
He is hit, driving him back onto the ground.
SERGEANT
(shouting)
Don't move. We will get to you.
A bullet rips through Dave's lower leg.
Dave screams in agony.
SERGEANT
(shouting)
Hold on son. Hold on.
Dave starts to drift into unconsciousness.
DAVE (V.O.)
I remember not thinking or
believing I had been shot. You
feel detached from reality, from
your own body. Then I started to
drift. I really thought I was
dying.
The sounds and images of battle fade.
FADE OUT.
FLASHBACK: EXT. OPEN FIELD - DAY
TITLE: MAY 24TH 1993
The setting is beautiful. A large open field, perfect green
grass. The sun hanging high, in a brilliant blue sky.
The only sounds are that of birds singing. The bird's songs
are suddenly broken, by the sounds of youth.
A large group of about a dozen boys, all of similar height
and ages, lie at one end of the field.
They are all carrying plastic and wooden weapons of some
form.
DAVE, 10 years of age. Average height, blond hair, well
tanned. He is dressed in camouflaged combat dress, wearing
a green plastic helmet.
Lying beside him is JOHN. Two months younger, similar
height. He has black hair and is wearing a stars and
stripes bandanna.
DAVE (V.O.)
Friends. When you are young you
have more than you know what to
do with. How all that changes, as
you get older.
At the far opposite end of the field, lies a similar force
of boys.
DAVE (V.O.)
When we were kids. The only game
was War. Didn't matter which one.
Vietnam, WWII. Just so long as
you got to fight. But it usually
meant dying, about a dozen times
a day.
Dave stands up and places a hand up to his mouth.
DAVE
(shouting)
Ho Chi Min sucks dead dicks.
He quickly lays back down. Taking cover from the imaginary
onslaught of enemy fire.
JOHN
Dave, you really have to stop
watching those Vietnam movies.
Dave ignores his friend.
DAVE
Everyone ready?
The group of boys, each nod in agreement.
DAVE
(shouting)
Come on. We can take 'em.
Everyone on me.
Dave stands and starts to run. John immediately follows.
The other boys hesitate slightly, but run after the two.
DAVE
(shouting)
Move it, move it, move it.
The second group of boys see the attack and start to
advance.
Dave fires his plastic machine gun. Making a sound of a gun
firing, as he sprays the advancing boys with invisible
bullets and spit from his mouth.
DAVE
Take that, you V.C. motherfucker.
John smiles and joins in the attack. He takes aim with his
branch of wood and shoots an attacker, with his imaginary
sniper rifle.
The field is a hive of activity as the play war unfolds.
Boys fall, other throw imaginary grenades.
Some boys are arguing about who shot who. It is all, a
youthful chaotic scene.
Dave is shot by one of his attackers. He falls to the
ground holding his stomach.
DAVE
(screaming in fake pain)
Medic. Help me. Medic.
John is busy attacking another small group, he turns to see
his friend hit the ground.
DAVE (V.O.)
John was always my friend. So
long as I could remember. We
swore when we were kids, that
would never change.
JOHN
Dave!
Johns runs to his friend.
DAVE
Leave me Johnnie boy. I'm done
for. Belly wound. No hope.
(cough)
Save yourself.
John smiles.
JOHN
Leave you here to die? Never.
He takes Dave's hand and starts to drag him out of the
battle.
Dave squirms in fake pain, as he is dragged through the
grass, away from chaos.
JOHN
Never leave a man behind.
The two reach the safety of a ditch, several feet from the
continuing battle.
John collapses to the ground, breathing heavy.
JOHN
Christ. You could have helped.
DAVE
Hey. I'm wounded man.
JOHN
Yeah, wounded and heavy.
The two share a laugh.
DAVE
Thanks for coming back for me.
JOHN
Hey. You're my brother.
DAVE
Much more than that. I have a
brother. He would always leave me
behind.
John passes Dave a small bag of sweets.
DAVE
Thanks. For the pain?
The two smile.
JOHN
We win?
DAVE
Do we ever? We were the good guys
and we always seem to lose.
Dave stands up and offers John a hand, pulling him to his
feet.
DAVE
Come on. We'd better step in
before this thing gets out of
hand and someone really gets
hurt.
The two walk over to the battle. Two boys are rolling
around on the ground.
DAVE (V.O.)
Thinking back. All that I played
with, read, watched was to do
with war.
The toys, comics hell even
clothes. It just always seemed,
so cool. Like the hero thing to
do. The path to becoming a man
and all that shit.
The rest of the boyish soldiers watch on from the
sidelines.
An argument of who was shot, gets out of control.
DAVE (V.O.)
Of course as you grow up you
realize the real measure of a
man, is not someone who is
trained to kill. But the man who
stays by his wife's side as she
goes through childbirth. Hugs and
holds his dying father. Spends
every possible minute with his
children, because one day, he
knows he will give anything, to
have just one of these moments in
time back.
The fighting couple are ripped apart, kicking and punching.
FADE OUT.
EXT. OUTSIDE DAVE'S HOUSE - LATER
The house is a standard American suburban structure. Would
be more pleasant, if better maintained.
It looks out of place on a street alongside houses with
better lawns and looking freshly painted.
The house has all the signs of an owner that either doesn't
have time, or care to take care of it.
Dave walks up the lawn, towards his house.
His posture changes as his walk slows. He approaches the
door and opens the screen door.
DAVE (V.O.)
My child hood could be regarded
as less than happy. Actually
scrub that. It was miserable.
He stops in his tracks as the door opens. Revealing
something familiar and unwelcome.
DAVE
Fuck. Pasta again.
Dave opens the door and enters the house.
INT. HALLWAY OF HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
The hallway is decorated with discolored wallpaper. The
walls a collection of various family photographs.
The photographs show children, younger parents and happier
times.
Dave Approaches the open door of the living room. He pears
into, slowly. Looking for something within.
A look of fear on his face, afraid to of what might meet
him as he returns home.
DAVE (V.O.)
I got very good at spotting when
my mother had been drinking. The
same dinner, the same music
playing.
Dave enters the kitchen.
Dave's mother NANCE. Late forties. Average height and
slightly under weight. Stands in the kitchen.
She is drinking from a coffee cup.
DAVE (V.O.)
I could tell in an instant from
her face. Her facial muscles
looked different. She didn't even
have to speak. No matter how many
times it greeted you, you still
got the sick aching feeling in
the pit of your stomach.
NANCE
About time you got home.
She throws a plate of pasta onto the wooden kitchen table.
The contents look dried and over cooked.
DAVE
Not really hungr...
She hits Dave across the back of his head, with the flat of
her hand. His head rocks forward under the blow.
NANCE
You'll stay sitting at that
fucking table, until it is all
gone.
Dave sits down. His head hanging just above the plate. As
he pushes the food around with his fork.
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.