A Cahulawassee Films Production.
Scene 7. El Zancudo, Mexico – Jungle to the east
Long shot of workmen diving into a jungle river pool, beneath a waterfall.
There is much splashing, shouting and general cavorting around.
A volleyball is passed around to much hilarity.
There is the faint sound of Stones music wafting through the trees (Carol).
A helicopter appears swiftly overhead, sweeping low.
The workmen cast their gaze skywards, gesticulating wildly at the occupants.
The vehicle swoops out of sight.
Scene 8. El Zancudo, Mexico – Jungle to the east
Shot of helicopter coming in to land in clearing.
The SC and a couple of other choice amigos exit, hurrying frantically out of the way of the blades towards a makeshift outbuilding.
The vegetation/foliage ripples in the downdraught.
Scene 9. El Zancudo, Mexico – Jungle to the east
Slow pan shot along a conveyor-belt type drug-packaging apparatus (makeshift outbuilding).
Pans back to reveal a production-line type scenario with various workmen beavering away.
They appear jovial and contented, cracking jokes and taking the piss out of each other in time-honoured production-line type fashion.
The SC and his entourage appear through the doorway.
There is a shout of recognition from a swarthy-looking Dude in the corner.
“Hey Sean!”
Sean (SC) looks in his direction and a grin splits his face.
They bear hug and appraise each other.
Their affection is palpable.
“Still smashing it up in Santa Fe?” asks Lucas (his longstanding mate/fellow adventurer).
Sean laughs and retorts “Still knockin’ em down in Pachanga?”
Both laugh and embrace again.
“Quite the operation you have here, Lucas,” says Sean.
Lucas surveys the scene proudly.
“My friend, I’ve been in this business more years than a dog has wind and I can honestly say this is the finest yet. We gotta great crew.” Pause. “…who I trust…and we got the product.”
“Yes, I can see that,” replies Sean, eyeing massive polythene bales of grass through the adjacent doors.
“All we need now,” muses Lucas, “are some hungry customers.”
“Hungry?” Sean smiles conspiratorially. “You mean…after a few puffs?”
Lucas grins. “That too.’
Mopping his brow with a grease-stained cloth, Lucas flicks a switch on some machinery.
The until grinds to a stuttering halt. Steam rises in the ether.
“But first amigo, you must be thirsty after such a…how you say…arduous trip?”
Lucas nods contemplatively. “You know what, I sure could use a beer.”
Scene 10. El Zancudo, Mexico – Jungle to the east
Low drone shot follows the course of the river (the Ameca) for almost a minute, until it rounds a bend and ascends the bank, revealing Sean and Lucas sat side by side at a makeshift table.
It is dusk and the air is thick with the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle in the undergrowth, punctuated by animal and bird cries, the occasional caw caw of a rare species., perhaps a Keel-Billed Toucan.
The two friends survey the river in silence, revelling in its abundant tranquillity.
Lucas hoists a couple of freezing cold cervezas (San Miguels) from a cool box, pops the tops off with a bottle-opener dangling around his neck and passes one to Sean.
They clink bottles contentedly and gulp greedily, satiating their jungle thirst.
Reaching into his knapsack, Lucas pulls out a map and carefully spreads it out on the table.
Sean observes his friend carefully, a look of fellow acknowledgement on his face.
“So man, this is gonna be…as my son would say…a coaster roaster,” announces Lucas.
They both grin in mutual appreciation of this ‘ol remembered joke.
“It will be a little…different… from the usual chicken run,” he continues.
Sean looks quizzical.
“The Feds have been hottin’ up of late. Seems like they’ve finally got their act together,” says Lucas.
“Maybe they’ve grown tired of chasing tail.”
Lucas looks up, meets Sean’s gaze and they both chuckle.
“Yes maybe, Hombre. But this means we gotta play it cunning, cunning and cute. The last thing we need are those hornets on our ass when we’re loaded with enough weed to keep Keef and Ronnie partying for another three decades.”
Sean looks him dead in the eye. “I’m reading ya, man. Diggin’ ya.”
He motions him to proceed.
Lucas stabs at the map.
“So, we leave here and make a beeline for Santa Ana, 100 kilometres south of the American border at Nogales. There I got guys on the payroll who can help us refuel and keep the heat off us till we get airborne again.
Then we’re gonna cruise up the west coast, east of Baja, west of Tuscon and head out over the national parks – Joshua Tree, Death Valley and Yosemite till we land at a private strip just outside Oakdale. From there it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to Frisco where we spill the load. By going over the parks we keep ourselves loose and free, evading any interference from Smokey. It’s mostly tourist traffic they’re primed for over there, so we shouldn’t grab too much heat, if any at all.”
Sean takes a long slug on his beer. “You reckon it’s a goer?”
“With Captain Sean at the controls…you betcha?”
Both laugh.
“Hey man, do you remember when we were students back in Rosario and we had that crazy flat?” asks Sean.
“How could I forget it?”
“Man, those were cool times.”
“Sure were amigo.”
“Do you remember that one time I smoked so much grass I thought I’d actually died? Total psych on that stuff. Man, that was bad weed. I was sat there, feeling totally out of it with everybody there, like I was in a separate dimension and I was trying to work out what I could have done in the last ten minutes that would have caused me to have died.”
“Dude, that sounds truly awful.”
“Yeah, hugely unpleasant. Had to get the heck outta there. Remember just lying on my mattress on the floor totally freakin’ out. Couldn’t even bear to have my girlfriend next to me I was that freaked.”
“How long did it take you to shake it?”
“Bout a coupla days I reckon to properly get rid of it. Was still freaked out even goin’ down to the pizzeria for take-out. That was like a serious undertaking.”
They both stare reflectively at the river.
“Yeah…bad grass man. Few things worse,” affirms Lucas.
Scene 11. Little Yosemite Valley Ranger Station, Yosemite National Park
Shot from inside a cop car as it winds up the road towards the station.
Radio cop chatter from the dashboard.
Car gradually pulls up into space.
Head-cam POV as the Cop exits the car and proceeds into the station.
“Can you let O’Halloran know I’m here, Tracy,” he asks a fellow deskbound Officer.
“Will do, Lieutenant,” she replies.
Office hubbub as he makes his way to a vacant office and puts his feet up on the desk.
