A RUSTLING sound draws her attention, and she turns, toward where the thick jungle foliage gives way to the sand.Ī large bush, maybe twelve feet tall, is moving, its branches swaying and shaking. Rounding a curve in the beach, her parents disappear from view behind her. Please be quiet, please be quiet, please be quiet. Let her have fun, for once.Ĭathy keeps wandering away, MUTTERING to herself as her parents’ quarreling voices fade in the distance. She looks up and sees a little girl, CATHY, seven or eight years old, wandering off down the beach.Ĭome back! You can look for shells right here!Ĭathy gestures, pretending she can’t hear. BOWMAN, painfully thin, with the perpetually surprised look of a woman who’s had her eyes done more than once, supervises the setting of the table. PAUL BOWMAN, fortyish, sits in a chair off to the side, reading. Two SHIP HANDS, dressed in white uniforms, have set up a picnic table with three chairs on the sand and are carefully laying out luncheon service - fine china, silver, crystal descanters with red and white wine. ![]() The beach is a stunning crescent of sand at the jungle fringe, utterly deserted. ![]() 34 Scene 87: Through the Windshield Of The Front TrailerĪ 135 foot luxury yacht is anchored just offshore in a tropical lagoon. ![]() ![]()
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