28l INT -- EMPLOYEE RESTROOM -- DAY 281

Red steps to the urinal, stares at himself in the wall mirror.

RED (V.O.)
Thirty years I've been asking
permission to piss. I can't squeeze
a drop without say-so.

A strange east Indian guitar-whine begins. The Beatles. George
Harrison's "Within You Without You..."

282 EXT -- STREET -- DAY 282

...which carries through as Red walks. People and traffic. He
keeps looking at the women. An alien species.

RED (V.O.)
Women, too, that's the other thing.
I forgot they were half the human
race. There's women everywhere,
every shape and size. I find myself
semi-hard most of the time, cursing
myself for a dirty old man.

TWO YOUNG WOMEN stroll by in cut-offs and t-shirts.

RED (V.O.)
Not a brassiere to be seen, nipples
poking out at the world. Jeezus,
pleeze-us. Back in my day, a woman
out in public like that would have
been arrested and given a sanity
hearing.

283 EXT -- PARK -- DUSK 283

Red finds the park filled with HIPPIES. Hanging out.
Happening. Here's the source of the music: a radio. A HIPPIE
GIRL gyrates to the Beatles, stoned, in her own world.

RED (V.O.)
They're calling this the Summer of
Love. Summer of Loonies, you ask me.

284 INT -- PAROLE OFFICE -- DAY 284

Red sits across from his PAROLE OFFICER. The P.O. is filling
out his report.

P.O.
You staying out of the bars, Red?

RED
Yes sir. That I am.

P.O.
How you doing otherwise? Adjusting
okay?

RED
Things got different out here.

P.O.
Tell me about it. Young punks
protesting the war. You imagine?
Even my own kid. Oughtta bust his
fuckin' skull.

RED
Guess the world moved on.

285 INT -- FOODWAY -- DAY 285

Bagging groceries. CHILDREN underfoot. One points a toy gun at
Red, pumping the trigger. Red focuses on the gun, listening to
it CLICKETY-CLACK. Sparky wheel grinding.

The kids get swept off by MOM. Red starts bagging the next
customer. SLOW PUSH IN on Red. Surrounded by MOTION and NOISE.
Feeling like the eye of a hurricane. People everywhere,
whipping around him like a gale. Strange. Loud. Dizzying. It
gets distorted and weird, slow and thick, pressing in on him
from all sides. The noise level intensifies. The hollering of
children deepens and distends into LOW EERIE HOWLS.

He's in the grip of a major anxiety attack. Tries to shake
himself out of it. Can't. Fumbles the final items into the
bag. Walks away. Trying not to panic. Trying not to run.

He makes his way through the store. Blinking sweat. He bumps
into a lady's cart, mumbles an apology, keeps going. Breaks
into a trot. Down the aisle, cut to the left, through the door
into the back rooms, faster and faster, running now, slamming
through a door marked "Employees Only" into --

286 INT -- EMPLOYEE RESTROOM -- DAY 286

-- where he slams the door and leans heavily against it,
shutting everything out, breathing heavily. Alone now.

He goes to the sink, splashes his face, tries to calm down.
He can still hear them out there. They won't go away. He
glances around the restroom. Small. Not small enough.

He enters a stall. Locks the door. Puts the toilet lid down
and sits on the john. Better. He can actually reach out and
touch the walls now. They're close. Safe. Almost small enough.
He draws his feet up so he can't be seen if somebody walks in.

He'll just sit here for a while. Until he calms down.

287 EXT -- STREET -- DUSK 287

Red is walking home.

RED (V.O.)
There is a harsh truth to face.
No way I'm gonna make it on the
outside.

He pauses at a pawnshop window. An array of handguns.

RED (V.O.)
All I do anymore is think of ways
to break my parole.

The SHOPKEEPER appears at the glass, locking the door and
flipping the sign: CLOSED.

288 INT -- RED'S ROOM -- NIGHT 288

Red lies smoking in bed. Unable to sleep.

RED (V.O.)
Terrible thing, to live in fear.
Brooks Hatlen knew it. Knew it all
too well. All I want is to be back
where things make sense. Where I
won't have to be afraid all the time.

He glances up at the ceiling beam. "Brooks Hatlen was here."

RED (V.O.)
Only one thing stops me. A promise
I made to Andy.

289 EXT -- COUNTRY ROAD -- MORNING 289

A pickup truck rattles up the road trailing dust and pulls to
a stop. Red hops off the back, waves his thanks. The truck

drives on. Red starts walking. PAN TO a roadside sign: BUXTON.

290 EXT -- MAINE COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY 290

High white clouds in a blazing blue sky. The trees fiery with
autumn color. Red walks the fields and back-roads, cheap
compass in hand. Looking for a certain hayfield.