SEVEN by Andrew Kevin Walker 8/8/94 1 INT. OLD HOUSE -- DAY 1 Sunlight comes through the soot on the windows, more brown than bright. SOMERSET, 45, stands in one corner of this small, second-story room. He looks over the ceiling, looks down at the worn wooden floors, looks at the peeling wallpaper. He walks to the center of the room, continues his study, taking his time. He halts, turns to one wall where the current wallpaper is torn away to reveal flowery wallpaper underneath. Somerset goes to this wall and runs his finger across one of the pale, red roses which decorates the older paper. He pushes the grime away, brings the rose out more clearly. He reaches into his suit pocket and takes out a switchblade. He flips the thin, lethal blade free. Working deliberately, delicately, Somerset cuts a square around the rose, then peels the square of dry wallpaper away from the wall. He studies it in his hand. 2 EXT. OLD HOUSE -- DAY 2 Somerset stands in front of the old home. He looks out at the surrounding farms and forests. He ponders something. Birds sing. MAN (O.S.) Is something wrong? Somerset does not respond, just stares off. The MAN, 34, wears a real-estate broker's jacket and stands beside a FOR SALE sign in the muddy lawn. MAN Is there something the matter? Somerset turns to face the man, then looks back at the house. SOMERSET No. No... it's just that everything here seems... so strange. MAN Strange? There's nothing strange about this place. The house'll need a little fixing up, that's for sure... SOMERSET No. I like the house, and this place. MAN I was about to say. Cause this place is about as normal as places get. Somerset nods, taking a deep breath. He smiles. SOMERSET That's what I mean. Strange. Somerset looks back to the beautiful landscape. The man does not understand. 3 INT. AMTRACK TRAIN -- LATER DAY 3 Somerset is in the window seat, looking out the window of the speeding train, smoking a cigarette. He is near the back of the car, away from the few other passengers. Outside, farms, fields, small homes and lawns rush by. The panorama is dappled by the rays of the soon to be setting sun. 4 INT. AMTRACK TRAIN -- LATER DAY 4 The train is almost full, moving slower. Somerset has his suitcase on the aisle seat beside him. He holds a hardcover book unopened on his lap. He still stares out the window, but his face is tense. The train is passing an ugly, swampy field. The sun has gone under. Though it seems impossible it ever could have gotten there, a car's burnt-out skeleton sits rusting in the bracken. Ahead, the city waits. The sky is full of smokestacks and huge industrial cranes. 5 INT. AMTRACK TRAIN -- LATER DAY 5 The train is passing urban streets below. Slums and smashed cars. People stand in groups in the corners. Bleak. Somerset's suitcase is now on the window seat. Somerset has moved to the aisle. He is reading his book. He looks up from the book and rubs his eyes, then looks back to continue reading, not once looking out the window. 6 EXT. CITY STREET -- NIGHT 6 Somerset carries his suitcase outside the train station. The city demands attention: cars screeching, people yelling, sirens blaring. Somerset passes a family of bewildered tourists. A WEIRD MAN has a hand on the tourist-father's suitcase. It has become a tugging match with the Weird Man shouting, "I'll take you to a taxi... I'll take you." Ahead, a group is gathered on the sidewalk near two ambulances. People clamor to get a look at a BLOODY BODY which lies on the street. Policeman try to hold the crowd off. Ambulance attendants administer aid to the victim, who convulses. Somerset moves by, ignoring it all. He motions for a cab. One pulls up from the street's stream of vehicles. 7 INT. CAB -- NIGHT 7 Somerset throws his suitcase in and shuts the door behind him. CAB DRIVER (about the crowd) What's the big fuss? Somerset looks out at the crowd, looks at the driver. SOMERSET Why do you care? CAB DRIVER (under his breath) Well, excuse me all to hell. The driver leans forward, checking it out. The circle of spectators shifts suddenly. A man has shoved another man and they're really going at it now. The swing at each other and tear at each other's clothing. One man's flailing fist connects and the other man's face is instantly bloodied. The fight grows even more spastic. Policemen try to stop it. CAB DRIVER Crazy fucks. The driver pulls away and the cab rages down the street. Somerset watches the parade of neon passing on the avenue. He slumps back in the seat and closes his eyes. CAB DRIVER Where you headed? Somerset opens his eyes. SOMERSET Far away from here. 8 INT. SOMERSET'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT 8 The curtains are closed. The SOUNDS of the CITY are here as they will be everywhere in this story. A CAR ALARM is SOUNDING, shrill and clear. Somerset's life is packed into moving boxes, except for some clothing in a closet and hundreds and hundreds of books on the shelves of one wall. Somerset is lying on the bed, dressed only in his underwear. He reaches to the nightstand, to a wooden, pyramidical metronome. He frees the metronome's weighted swingarm so it moves back and forth. Swings to the left -- TICK, swings to the right -- TICK. Tick... tick... tick... measured and steady. Somerset situates on the bed, closes his eyes. Tick... tick... tick. The metronome's sound competes with the sound of the car alarm. Somerset's face tightens as he concentrates on the metronome. His eyes close tighter. Tick... tick... tick. The swingarm moves evenly. Somerset's breathing deepens. Tick... tick... tick. The car alarm seems quieter. Tick... tick... tick. Somerset continues his concentration. The metronome's sound seems louder. Tick... tick... tick. The sound of the car alarm fades, and is GONE. The metronome is the only sound. Somerset's face relaxes as he begins to fall asleep. Tick... tick... tick... INSERT -- TITLE CARD SUNDAY 9 INT. SOMERSET'S APARTMENT -- MORNING 9 Somerset picks items off a moving box: his keys, wallet, switchblade, gold homicide badge. Finally, he opens the hardcover book he had with him on the train. From the pages, he takes the pale, paper rose. 10 INT. TENEMENT APARTMENT -- DAY 10 Somerset stands before a wall which is stained by a star-burst of blood. A body lies on the floor under a sheet. A sawed-off shotgun lies not far from the body. The apartment is gloomy. DETECTIVE TAYLOR, 52, stands on the other side of the room, looks through a notepad. TAYLOR Neighbors heard them screaming at each other for like two hours. It was nothing new. But, then they heard the gun go off. Both barrels. SOMERSET Did the wife confess? TAYLOR When the patrolman came she was trying put his head back together. She was crying too hard to say anything. Somerset beings walking around the apartment. SOMERSET Why always like this? Only after the fact... this sudden realization, that if you shoot someone, or stick a knife in them, that person will cease to exist. TAYLOR Crime of passion. SOMERSET Yes. Look at all the passion splattered up on the wall here. TAYLOR This is a done deal. All but the paperwork. Taylor shifts his weight, impatient. Somerset looks at a colori...
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