(CONT'D)

RUN. 
             
                By Brett Alan Bentman

          A story for my Katie. Whom I would across the world for....
"When its gone, you'll know what a gift love was. you'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it."                                                                                                                                                          
- Ian McEwan

ExT. Edinburgh, SCOTLAND -- Day
Brandon Flowers' "On The Floor" guides us through the bewildered network of fossilized buildings and landmarks that is the city.
Hugging the coast. Weathered and growing feeble. A blanket of colorful tents -- a market filled with hipster types. Double-decker tour busses and stone churches.
Highland Park -- GlenGoyne --The Balvenie -- Calton Hill -- Sir William Wallace conquered in marble.
Traffic just like anywhere else. Quaint, stacked housing -- impossible to see where one ends and the next begins. 
Princes street -- George Street -- the St. James Center. Hoards of tourists admiring fine architecture and striking views of distant castles.
Among the bustle of the city there is the moral fiber of the old country. Simple shops serving cups of coffee or afternoon tea.  Businessmen and bagpipes. Local papers. Children. Gardens.
It begins to DRIZZLE. It's beautiful. It's charming. It's profoundly unalike.

R
U
N
INT.  Hospital room -- day
An intravenous drip -- slow and continuous. Cold. Sterile. Faded walls with streaks where it had been cleaned. Linoleum on the floor. Plenty of room to move about, but nowhere to get comfortable. Nothing more than a recovery room. 
A life-support machine. A twenty-four year old NURSE silently hooks up the high monitor above the bed.
TULE WELLWOOD (40) is lying supine, awake but groggy, hooked up to a heart monitor, hideous plastic tubes up her nose, down her throat, on full inotropic support. 
HAMISH  WELLWOOD (40), her husband, leans over and kisses her. His strong, handsome face is beginning to show wear and tear. He softly reaches for her frail hand and in his thick Scottish accent --
HAMISH
Hi sweetheart. 
She closes her eyes -- she's really out of it. Hamish forces a smile, he hasn't slept in days.
NURSE
She can't talk right now. I'm sorry.
HAMISH
(softly to his wife --)
It's fine. You get some sleep, love.  I'll be here when you open your eyes. I promise.
He kisses the face of her hand as she fades away. The Nurse dims the lights and leaves them.
Tule's DOCTOR enters her room, a grieved expression on his face, and takes a concentrated look at his patient. He sterilizes his hands at the tiny sink and glances back to where Hamish now sits.
His accent almost as thick --
DOCTOR
She's resting.
HAMISH
Just a few moments ago. I was able to say good night.
DOCTOR
Good. That's very good.
He finishes drying his hands. Hamish notices the doctor's apprehensiveness frown. He stands -- frightened. 
HAMISH
Is anything the matter? Has anything new happened?
DOCTOR
(hanging back)
Have a seat.
HAMISH
If it's all the same, I'd rather stand. Has she gotten worse?
DOCTOR
There are septal defects resulting in a pulmonary edema. 
HAMISH
Meaning?
DOCTOR
Meaning your wife's heart is failing.
HAMISH
So she needs a new one? Another operation?
DOCTOR
I'm afraid not.
HAMISH
Why not?
Doing his best to calm a now shaky Hamish down --
DOCTOR
If we operate on her now, there's little to  no chance she survives the transplant. She's been through too much in such a short amount of time.
HAMISH
But that's not your decision.
DOCTOR
It's my recommendation --
HAMISH
(snarls)
-- recommendation? Recommendation that she die?
DOCTOR
I know it's difficult, but you may want to start considering that your wife doesn't have much time left.
This is too much for Hamish. His resolve breaks as he rides a sudden  crest of anger and dejection. He Steadies himself and gathers his thoughts all in one fell swoop --
HAMISH
I won't let her die. Not like this. Not in this place. She deserves better then that.
DOCTOR
We've done everything we possibly could, but very soon, your wife's heart is going to stop beating. I'm sorry.
Hamish goes silent.
DOCTOR
We'll keep her comfortable. Use this time to be with her. To say goodbye.
Hamish is crushed. The breath in his lungs evaporates -- there are no words. He immediately goes to her bedside -- cradles her motionless hand. His eyes water -- his brow bends inward -- but he refuses to cry for her. He's strong for her in this moment. He clenches his eyes shut for a moment, then --
HAMISH
Will she know? Will there be any pain?
DOCTOR
No. She'll be sedated until the end. Can I call anyone for you?
Hamish doesn't answer. He uses his fingertips to brush the red hair back away from her ear. Hamish leans in and WHISPERS to her. We do not hear what he says. 
He never leaves her side. Two sad waifs in the dark...
EXT. Cemetary -- day
Rain. Umbrellas open all around. A hoard of red roses lies across the coffin of Tule Wellwood. 
CHAPLIN
And so we commend our sister Tule unto God, who shall change our vile body that it may be like unto his glorious body --
TIGHT ON HAMISH, standing at his dead wife's side amid a tight know of mourners.  There's no weeping, no gnashing of teeth;  most of the attendees are family or friends, obviously here for reasons of protocol.  
Nearby is Hamish's oldest friend and dominant business partner, American-born Karl, dapper and square-jawed. 
ChaPLIN
-- according to the mighty work whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself.
Karl offers Hamish an umbrella and, of course, he doesn't accept it -- the raindrops seem to vanish miraculously before they strike him.  Karl touches him on the shoulder.
CHAPLIN
From beginning to end. Her life is yours oh Lord, in your gifted hands.  Amen and Amen.
THUNDER sounds in the distance, and Hamish glances off at it. With most of the crowd dissipated, the coffin is lowered into the cold, wet ground. 
EXT. Modern Edinburgh street -- nighT
Hours later. Hamish walks down an empty street; drunken and tired. He's headed towards a stark, contemporary office building.
He enters the building through the big glass doors, forcing a smile as he's approached by A NIGHT SHIFT SECURITY GUARD. They shake hands briefly. 
INT. Hamish's Office -- night
An open bottle of scotch. Lights looming through windows. Probably the best office on this floor. More comfortable than flashy. More clubhouse than a place to bring clients. WALLS COVERED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORABILIA.
A cluttered mix of banquet handshake pics and framed family snapshots. Two decades of testimonial gatherings captured behind wooden frames. Hamish pacing and drinking as --
KARL
Have you slept yet?
Hamish spins to find Karl standing in the doorway, shaking off the cold and holding the same black umbrella from the funeral.
HAMISH
How'd you find me?
KARL
Intuition.
HAMISH
You're wet.
They take a long, hard look at each other. It's obvious these two are as close as brothers. Hamish is really out of it --
HAMISH
How about a drink?
Karl sees the half-empty bottle --
KARL
Maybe you should take it easy with that stuff, huh?
HAMISH
I always liked you better when you'd been drinking.
KARL
I'm serious.
Hamish says nothing. Sips. He's growing more implosive by the second --
HAMISH
(remembering)
I was in a bar-fight. You remember that? I was in a bar and I was fighting. I can't remember that kid's name. The one with the hook nose?
KARL
That was a long time ago.
HAMISH
He was drunk and he was screaming in my face, so I hit him as hard as I could and that was the end of it.
(sips)
You remember that night? What the hell was his name?
KARL
You can't do this, not after what you've been through today.
HAMISH
There are rules here? This is my office and you came all the way down here tonight and won't even have a belt with your oldest friend. There aren't any rules here.
KARL
I'm worried about you. Let me take you home?
HAMISH
(nervous laugh, fades --)
Home? I'm not going home...
KARL
Then you can stay with me for the night.
An overwhelmed Karl looks at Hamish, who is fading. The alcohol permeates. Hamish plops down in his favorite chair --
HAMISH
Now, Karl, I wanna tell you a secret, 'kay? You can't tell anyone though, 'kay? Ready?... He visits me sometimes. In dreams. And he tells me it's going to be okay. 
(beat)
It was the ten year anniversary last week, did you know that? And now it just starts all over again. We're all just part of God's plan. And I don't know why this is happening. Only God knows why.
(sighs)
He took my father away ten years ago and now he had to take her too. You see, Pop was no good, so I guess he needed an angel this time around.
KARL
She was a great woman. You can't blame yourself for what happened to her. 
HAMISH
Question is, why didn't he just make another one? He's God. Why'd he have to take mine? 
(trails off)
Why'd he have to take... mine?
He tries to open his eyes, but it's no use, and after a few moments he's out
A photograph of Hamish and Tule at the beach is shattered on the rug. Karl picks it up and places it on the desk. He brushes away the lose shards of glass, then helps Hamish to his feet -- trustworthy and heartbroken at the same time.
INT. HamISH'S Home -- day
Hamish's eyes flutter open. His cheek is stuck to a leather couch cushion. He'd passed out on the sofa at some point during the night.
He's alone. It's quiet. Light floods in through the plantation shutters. 
Hamish staggers to his feet and teeters over to the window. He shields his eyes and squints. The sun beaming off the pastoral downtown canyon.
As he turns back, the lowliness of this moment begins to sink in. We riffle through his home -- mega -- the taste of real wealth. There are two place settings at the dining room table -- two plush recliners -- books only a woman would read -- a bible -- a cornucopia of meaningful PHOTOGRAPHS -- life in pictures -- smiles and laughs seen only now through the few precious moments frozen in time behind wooden frames. 
Hamish hangs his head. He's not lingering.
ExT. EdinBURGH Road -- day
A BLACK MERCEDES comes to life -- speeding North -- wheels flaring...
EXT. Scottish countryside -- day
Hamish driving. Escaping. Running away from more than the memory of his dead wife. Turning suddenly down a narrow dirt road.
The Mercedes turning again -- aimless -- windows open -- cold air whipping through -- braking suddenly -- impulsive -- turning -- suddenly -- faster now and --
A smaller road. The Mercedes speeding past large estates tucked back in the foggy deep woods and glorious green pastures.
Surrounded by forest. The sun just peaking through the treeline. Cold mist hanging over the whole valley. Nothing but gray and green. Stark. Perfect.
The Mercedes speeding toward us -- climbing around the turn -- eating up the valley road that runs along the pasture -- but suddenly the car is slowing -- braking hard and -- comes to a sudden stop.
Ext. Hamish'S country home -- day
Hamish kills the engine and gets out of the driver's seat. He stands before a large, cabin estate. It stares back at him as if he's through a mirror. Established. A monument. A home away from home.
A short, husky Scotsman carriages out from the front door -- the caretaker. His name is AIKIN, and he is as native as Hamish.  
AIKIN
Hamish? What in the hell are you doing here?
They shake hands.
AikIN
I didn't know I'd be expecting you.
HAMISH
I didn't have time to call.
AIKIN
None the matter. It's good to see you.
(looks past him)
Where's Tule?
Hamish slowly shakes his head --
HAMISH
No.
Aikin absorbs the news. Shocked. He covers his mouth with his hand, then focuses.
AIKIN
Christ. I'm so sorry. So soon?
HAMISH
It was very quick in the end.
AIKIN
What can I do?
HAMISH
Nothing. Thank you.
Aikin touches him on the shoulder --
AIKIN
Are you going to be alright?
HAMISH
I think so.
AIKIN
Have you eaten?
HAMISH
A few days ago.
AIKIN
Well, come on in. This is your home. Let me fix you a meal. 
Hamish forces a short smile. Aikin turns and leads him in inside. Just prior to entering -- Hamish looks out into the wilderness. It's so green and calm. In this moment, it's simple to see why Tule once fell in love with this place.
Hamish shuts the door behind him.

INT. HamISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- DAY
Rustic. Simple and natural. The kind of place willed from generation to generation -- homely touches splattered throughout.  
Aikin rummages through the kitchen. Hamish watches him for a moment, then --
HAMISH
Don't do that.
AikIN
Do what?
HAMISH
Overcompensate.
AIKIN
I'm only trying to help you through the process.
HAMISH
What process?
AIKIN
Grief. You're grieving. Aren't you?
HAMISH
I think so.
AIKIN
I never told her, or anyone for that matter , but looking back -- I should have.
HAMISH
Told her what?
AIKIN
Tule was like a sister to me. 
Hamish nods. Understood. Aikin presses  him for answers --
AIKIN
How long will you be staying?
HamISH
Indefinitely.
AIKIN
I see. Well, I'll have to make a trip into town to pick up a few things while you're here.
(reaches into his pocket)
Here's a list. Add anything you'd like.
Hamish reads over the items on the list.
HAMISH
Got a pen?
Aikin tosses the pen over. Hamish uses the coffee table as a hard surface as he jots down the items he will be needing for his stay. Aikin watches as it takes longer than he expected.
AIKIN
(reads the additions)
Will we be expecting company?
HAMISH
No. 
AIKIN
Very well.
Aikin folds the list in half and places it back into the same pocket as before.
HAMISH
Where do you keep my ax?
AIKIN
(concerned)
Ax?
HAMISH
For fire wood. I noticed the bucket was a bit low.
AIKIN
Of course. I keep it in the shed now. It was getting rusty with all the rain we'd been getting.
HAMISH
Do you keep any drink in this place when I'm not around?
AIKIN
There's a half a bottle of Jameson in the cupboard above the sink. 
HAMISH
Good man.
Aikin heads for the front door -- grabs his hat and the keys of the hook.
AiKIN
I won't be long.
INT. Hamish's COuntry Home -- Master bedroom -- dusk
Hamish steps though the doorway with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He stares in at a porcelain ballerina placed on the night stand  next to the king bed.
He looks at the painting above the mantel that he had given to Tule. The bed is made. Hamish touches and bed where Tule had once slept.
EXT. Front porch -- night
Hamish sits on a rocking chair with his drink. He is completely still, as if in a trance. He slowly drains his tumbler -- stands -- then walks off the porch and crosses the lawn. He's headed for the --
INT. Shed -- night
Hamish flings open the small, oxidized wooden door. He reaches inside the dark room for a light switch and flips it on -- a tidy pile of fire wood. Hamish finds his ax resting up against it. He grabs it and heads back.
InT. HaMISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- living room -- night
Hamish hoists the handle of the ax across the top of his shoulder blades. He cocks his head. He's stares angrily at the room. More than the alcohol boiling behind his brow. 
HAMISH
(to himself)
We need more fire wood...
EXT. HAMISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- Night
Aikin's truck comes to a stop in the driveway. The back is packed with boxes and stuffed paper bags. He kills the engine. He's expecting silence, but it's anything but. 
He steps out of the driver's side and hears the SUDDEN SMASH of wood CRACKING as metal meets it. Violent THUDS. Steady and abrupt.
Aikin begins to run towards the noise, as Florence and The Machine's, "The Dog Days Are Over" reveals --
INT. HaMISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
Hamish and his ax are having a coming out social. With each slug, more furniture is fractured, more fabric is scored. There's a pile in the center of the room. What once was a sofa is now a car crash. What was once a dinner table -- a pile up. An drum beat of  liquidation.
Aikin, dumbfounded, watches in silence as Hamish expunges anything that will burn. He CLEARS his throat -- breaking Hamish's resolve momentarily --
HAMISH
You're back.
AiKIN
Christ...
HAMISH
I found my ax.
AIKIN
Clearly. Why are you doing this?
HAMISH
I thought I might enjoy a fire tonight. You're invited.
AIKIN
Have you lost your mind?
HAMISH
No. 
(grabs a wooden leg)
Heads up!
Hamish lobs the wooden shard just passed Aikin's head and clear out the open front door. 
AIKIN
What was that?
HAMISH
I thought I might enjoy a fire -- outside.
AIKIN
You're mad!
HAMISH
Nope.
AIKIN
Then you're drunk?
HAMISH
You wanna lend me a hand?
Before Aikin can answer, Hamish is flinging more broken pieces of furniture passed him. Aikin steps aside for cover --
AIKIN
Can you stop?
HAMISH
Where do you keep the lighter fluid?
AIKIN
Under the sink.
HAMISH
Grab it, will ya? 
Aikin side steps the chaos and disappears into the kitchen. He's not sure how to react --
Hamish throws the ax head back and drives it directly into the face of the coffee table -- it splinters. The bulldozer rolls on through the forest...
EXT. Front Yard -- night
Minutes later. Hamish has constructed a make-shift fire pit -- he's piled his broken furniture inside. Aikin hands him the box of lighter fluid. 
AIKIN
I really think you need to stop. Think about what you're doing.
HAMISH
And I really think you need to understand that this is going to happen whether you want it to or not.
Hamish douses everything piled with the fluid until the canister is crushed empty. 
HAMISH
That's it?
AiKIN
I didn't know you planned on burning down the house.
HAMISH
Did you get the things I asked for?
AIKIN
Yes.
HAMISH
Let's use that.
A MINUTE LATER. 
The music still plays.  The ground around Hamish and Aikin is littered with wine, vodka, beer. And nothing else. Hamish nods with cool approval, turns to the fire, begins to empty bottles of scotch, tequila, rum, Jagermeister onto the flame. It GROWLS high.
Aikin cautiously helps him. 
They're both drinking now. The music grows as loud as the fire -- the leaves on the trees shake. The guys jump up and dance - they know the words and the beat and the dance becomes a reckless awesome spastic ceremonial act invoking the past. We fade...
They stand, arms around shoulders, gazing into the burning apocalypse before them. Aikin is a sponge by now. He smiles. Hamish is tanked, but hold it together enough --
AIKIN
This was a good idea. 
HAMISH
Liberating.
AIKIN
Indeed. Except for the fact that we have nothing to sleep on tonight.
HAMISH
(jokes)
We'll sleep out here. Like our grandfathers did.
AIKIN
Now what?
HAMISH
(a bit somber)
Now? Now we start again. 
AIKIN
That sounds nice.
HAMISH
Why did I stop caring about her? 
AIKIN
I didn't know you had..
HAMISH
I mean, I cared. But I stopped caring. I stopped telling her things. I forgot that I was supposed to. How do you forget?
(sighs)
I feel that if I had just had more time -- just a little more time -- I wouldn't have forgotten something so important. I might not have lost track.
Aikin hangs his head. Maybe it's the stark honestly of a grieving man's confession, or maybe it's just the alcohol, but there isn't much to say.
AIKIN
We should go in now.
Aikin turns and staggers inside. Before following him, Hamish takes one last look into the bright orange and yellow flame -- as if he's pleading for comfort within it. None is offered. 
INT. HamISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- living room -- DAY
Quiet. The breeze. Pine trees vibrating in the wind. Sun slanting into windows. Booze bottles and dirty glasses all over the living room and kitchen. It's like nobody is here at all, until we find...
A HAND
On the round knob of the front door. Slowly turning it up. We hear the smooth intro of Karl as he slides inside.
Karl just standing there, in a slash of sunlight, half of him on fire from it, a letter in his hand, staring at --
Where Hamish and Aikin sleep on the wooden floor, wrapped in
blankets. Karl WHISTLES and wakes them. Aikin pulls the covers up over his eyes. Hamish sits up -- bloodshot and dazed.
KARL
What the hell happened here?
HAMISH
What's with the suit?
KARL
Business. Remember?
HAMISH
How is it that you always know exactly where I am at all times?
KARL
You're predictable.
(looks past)
Hello Aikin.
Aikin
(under the blankets)
Good morning.
KARL
You guys wanna take a second? Hamish, can I speak to you outside? Alone?
HAMISH
Sure...
AiKIN
I'll put on some coffee.
HAMISH
Make it strong, will ya?
Hamish stands -- CRACKS his back -- follows Karl out onto the sun soaked --
ExT. FrONT PORCH -- Day
Hamish shivers in the brisk morning air. Karl leans up against the railing -- less than pleased -- he's not lingering.
HAMISH
You're mad. Why?
KARL
You wanna tell me what that was all about?
HAMISH
Which part?
KARL
Which part?
HAMISH
The furniture?
KARL
The furniture, you and Aikin asleep on the Goddamn floor -- all of it.
HAMISH
It was time for a change.
KARL
Change? I can still smell the alcohol on your breath.
HAMISH
In my defense, we only stopped drinking a few hours ago. 
KARL
Putting all that aside, which we can't --
(the paper he's holding)
-- this came across my desk this morning.
HAMISH
(squints)
What is it?
KARL
You tell me.
Hamish reaches for it and begins to read. It's a struggle, but --
HAMISH
Before you get upset, let me explain --
KARL
You put all six million of your shares up for sale and you don't come to me first?
HAMISH
Would you have let me?
KARL
No.
HAMISH
That's my point.
KARL
This is a bad move. This isn't the kind of life changing decision you make when you're -- a fucking mess.
HAMISH
I want out. I'm done.
KARL
This is your father's company.
HAMISH
Was. Was my father's company.
KARL
Here we go...
HAMISH
It's my choice when I get to walk away. It's not like you're the one throwing in the towel.
KARL
We've known each other for fifteen years, excuse me for feeling blind-sided.
Hamish hands him the paper back. Karl takes it. Offering nothing more  --
HAMISH
Let me know how the sale goes.
KARl
Is this what Tule would want? 
HAMISH
Tule is dead.
That's the dagger. For a moment, Karl had forgotten what's happened. He folds up the paper and tucks it away in his suit jacket pocket. He softens his stance for the present --
KARL
Give me a few days. Let me find a buyer that's not going to cut you off at the knees. You've worked too hard for that -- hell, I'll buy the shares back myself if I have to.
HAMISH
You got it.
KARL
(shakes his head)
You really want out?
HAMISH
I've made one bad decision in my life because of money. I won't do that again.
Karl nods, understood, he then glances back down at the dozens of bottles that line the forest's floor. Hamish stands at the front door, about to step through, as --
KARL
Never took you for much of a wine drinker.
HAMISH
(smiles)
Me either.
INT. HamISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- Basement -- DAY
Hamish rummages through an endless corridor of memories and once useful oddments. Of Monsters and Men's "Lakehouse" as his sound-check to this melancholy flea market of forgotten years.
The music builds, then fades as --
He reaches for an old pair of women's sneakers. Worn and frail around the souls. He holds them -- as if he's attempting to commit this moment to memory.
AiKIN (O.S.)
Those must have been somewhat important.
Hamish spins to find his friend behind him -- red eyed and reeling. Aikin hands Hamish a glass.
HAMISH
What's in this one?
AIKIN
Water.
HAMISH
(nods)
Water is good.
He drinks. Aikin takes the shoe from his hand and glances at it --
AIKIN
What were they?
HAMISH
She wore those in Brussels. Half-marathon about three years ago. She finished third out of six hundred. She was so proud. She was proud even when she didn't win. 
(grins)
With her, it was about more than just coming in first.
AIKIN
(sniffs)
They stink.
HAMISH
I always used to rag on her for keeping things like that.
AIKIN
By the looks of it, she won that argument.
HAMISH
Indeed.
Hamish drains his drink. Aikin hands the battered shoe back over and looks around.
AIKIN
What now?
HAMISH
You're gonna clean up the mess upstairs.
AIKIN
And you?
HAMISH
I'm headed into town. 
ExT. AIKIN'S TRUCK -- day
The music picks back up again at the bridge. The sun surges through the trees. Hamish navigates the beat-up truck past the bluff -- the peaks and valleys -- the ridge. Each turn more classical in nature than the last. It's breathtaking. 
INT. Camping depot -- day
Local. Petite -- yet sufficient. Hamish is the only customer in here. A Scottish CLERK watches him from the register. He peaks over the top of his morning paper. 
Hamish is about half-way down the survival gear section. His HANDS are grabbing things. It's the kind of shopping spree only few rich men are able to partake in:
A mini pop-up camper on wheels -- orange and yellow parkas -- a hunting knife -- portable cooker -- fanny pack --  a metal lighter and additional flints -- gloves, goggles and boots.
AT THE REGISTER
The Clerk scans his items. He's staring at Hamish as if he's from another planet.
CLERK
Taking a trip?
HAMISH
Sort of, yeah.
CLERK
Need a map?
HAMISH
Sure.
The Clerk hands him a map of Scotland --
CLErk
Anything else?
HAMISH
I'm sorry, could you hand me the map of Europe, please?
CLERK
The whole of Europe?
HAMISH
Please.
CLERK
That's quite a trip.
HAMISH
You just never know.
CLERK
Very well.
The Clerk exchanges maps. Hamish takes out his bill fold and a pint sized photograph of Tule spills out from it and lands on the counter. He quickly tucks it back inside as if the sheep sight of his dead wife would shatter the windows.
The Clerk notices and his attitude changes from one of suspicion, to spontaneous, genuine concern --
CLERK
Anything else?
HAMISH
I'm good.
ClerK
After we finish up here, I'll give you a hand loading the truck.
HAMISH
Thank you.
EXT. HaMISH'S HOME -- DAY
Aikin totes a large black plastic garbage bag -- he's filling it with the shrapnel left behind from the previous night's drunken celebration. Hamish drives up to where he stands -- kills the engine and hops out of the driver's seat.
AikIN
Karl called while you were out. Twice.
HamISH
What'd he say?
AIKIN
Something about a stock sale. It was all a bit muddled to me I'm afraid.
HAMISH
That's Karl.
AIKIN
What's Karl?
HAMISH
He makes everything out to be the end of the world. He can't see past his own ledger.
AIKIN
Is everything okay between you two?
HAMISH
He means well.
(the truck)
Lend me a hand?
AIKIN
With what?
CUT TO:
INT. HamISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
The spread. Aikin's eyes glaze over the extensive scope of survival gear, camping supplies and clothing. He's a bit confused --
AikIN
I don't understand -- are we going somewhere?
HamISH
Not we. 
AIKIN
Where are you going then?
HAMISH
Just taking a little trip is all. 
AIKIN
That's an awful lot of stuff for one person...?
HAMISH
Okay so maybe it's not such a little trip, but I am going alone.
AIKIN
Where to?
Hamish tossed Aikin the map  --
AiKIN
This is a map of Europe.
HamiSH
Indeed.
AIKIN
I'm still not following you.
HAMISH
I'm going across the country. 
AIKIN
(the gear)
With all this?
HAMISH
Yep.
AIKIN
Have you gone mad?
HAMISH
(serious eyes)
Not in the least.
AIKIN
You plan on shipping this crap in boxes?
HAMISH
I'll go by foot.
AIKIN
By foot...?
HAMISH
I'll run.
AIKIN
You cannot just pick up and run across the whole of Europe.
HAMISH
Why not?
AIKIN
Because its impossible.
HAMISH
How do you know?
AIKIN
Because I know. Besides that, it's an absolutely crazy idea!
HAMISH
It's not crazy. It's perfect.
AIKIN
You can't run down the street -- let alone across Scotland.
HAMISH
(the map)
I'm not going to run across Scotland -- I'm going to run across all of it.
Aikin shakes his head in disbelief --
AIKIN
And where does this magical journey end?
HAMISH
Santorini.
And now Aikin knows...
AIKIN
This is about Tule isn't it? This is about doing something for her.
HAMISH
No. This is about letting her go.
AIKIN
You can't let her go by killing yourself. That's what this is -- suicide. You haven't even trained for this sort of thing.
HAMISH
I haven't shed a single tear for her. Not one. And do you know why? Because I can't trust that she's gone. I can't stop believing that one morning I'll wake up and her face will be next to mine -- her hand holding mine .
(chokes up)
That's where we met. That's where I'll let her go. 
AIKIN
And if you don't make it? Then what?
HAMISH
She'll know I tried. She always knew I tried.
AIKIN
Are you sure about this?
HAMISH
Get some sleep. We'll start in the morning.
Hamish walks off into the back room. Aikin stares down at the map. There's a thin red line that outlines Hamish's path. It starts in Scotland -- moves down through lower England -- cuts through Germany -- Austria -- Hungary -- south through Serbia and into Greece. 
It's quiet. A tear falls from Aikin's eye and creates a watermark somewhere over the Mediterranean sea.
INT. HamISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- Bedroom -- DAY
The next morning's light breaks in through the blinds. It's peaceful and still. Hamish is still asleep in last night's clothing.
Aikin, newly resolved, enters and wakes him by loudly opening the window. Hamish sits up while shielding his eyes from the sun --
HAMISH
What are you doing? 
AIKIN
Rise and shine.
HAMISH
Jesus, man -- what time is it?
AikIN
You may not be able to convince me that what you're about to do it right. You may not even be able to explain your reasoning to me in a way that makes me feel comfortable with watching you leave this place -- but what you can do, is allow me some time to help you prepare. 
HAMISH
Prepare?
AIKIN
That's all I'm asking. Please let me help you before you go...
HAMISH
What do you know about this sort of thing.
AIKIN
More than you.
Hamish nods -- understood.
MONTAGE -- AIKIN HELPS HAMISH PREPARE
Lykke Li's  "Get Some...."
 -- Aikin and Hamish browse over a pile of books at the kitchen counter. They feverishly turn the pages.
AIKIN (V.O.)
You need to learn the native languages in the countries you'll be in -- German, Austrian, even Greek. It wouldn't be any good to be stuck in the middle of a country and not be able to ask for food.
-- Hamish runs uphill. His feet move as fast as they possibly can. Each step more flagrant than the last.
AIKIN (V.O.)
You're path is logical, though it may not be the most comfortable. You're going to be running into some hostile parts of the world. It's going to be cold and dark. You're going to be alone.
-- Hamish and Aikin begin to pack the tent. Everything needing to fit -- it's stuffed very taught. Aikin demonstrates how to unpack without unraveling the entire ensemble. 
AIKIN (V.O.)
You'll need to build up some resistance in your legs. Run everyday from now until the morning you depart. You'll need to complete 30-mile runs daily while wearing a backpack with increasingly heavy weights inside of it.
-- Hamish practices using a portable rice and noodle cooker. Aikin watches.
-- Hamish shoves a stylish pair of running shoes into a shopping cart. As he turns to leave, Aikin swaps them out behind his back.
-- Hamish runs through freezing rain. A determined stride throughout.
AIKIN (V.O.)
You've never been a good runner, so your feet will be covered with blisters and your legs will ached unbearably. Just imagine Tule's face, and let her be the strength you need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
-- Aikin hands Hamish an emergency beacon watch -- shows him how to use it.
AIKIN (V.O.)
Should you find yourself in the mountains, this watch will allow you to send a distress signal. Do our very best to stay close to the main roads if you're not sure of where you are. Use the compass, and if you can't use the compass, use the sun. 
-- Hamish sprints through the brush -- surprisingly quick and with purpose. Slim and toned. Aikin watches from the front step. Progress.
AIKIN (V.O.)
On good days, you might cover 30 miles. Later, when you hit snow and the ice, it could take you a whole day to make just 500 yards. Stop whenever you feel too exhausted to continue, almost always sleeping in the tent or the buggy. Never push it. Know your limits.
-- Hamish runs through the town. His body is now a wheel cog. He strides with ease. He sweats desire and breathes expectation.
AIKIN (V.O.)
This will change you forever,  you will have learned that when everything is lost, you've made mistakes and you don't think you will survive, you can just keep going and get through.  You'll not fear things the way you used to. You'll no longer care about how tall you are or how old you might be. You'll celebrate life -- see it full and clear. There's no doubt that she would approve.
END MONTAGE
INT. HaMISH'S COUNTRY HOME -- LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
Aikin watches from the doorway as Hamish finishes packing up. He smiles at him --
HAMISH
What?
AIKIN
Nothing.
HAMISH
What are you grinning at?
AIKIN
How about a drink?
Aikin walks over to a cupboard and takes out the Jameson -- two tumblers, no ice. He pours. They toast --
AiKIN
To your happy return.
HaMISH
Sounds good.
They drain their drinks.
AIKIN
All set then?
HAMISH
I think so. 
(slow)
I wanted to thank you for helping me. I mean it, I couldn't do this without your help.
AIKIN
That's what I'm here for.
HAMISH
You're a good friend, Aikin. I won't forget you.
Hamish hands Aikin an envelope.
AIKIN
What's this?
HAMISH
That is everything.
AIKIN
Everything?
HAMISH
If anything happens to me, I want you to have it.
AIKIN
Have what?
HAMISH
(offers nothing)
All of it. 
Hamish touches Aikin on the shoulder and walks past him. He disappears into the back of the house. Aikin is left holding the envelope. He stares at it.
EXT. ScoTTISH COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY
The sun rises. The wispy clouds seemingly mesh into the green hills that make up the distant background. Sections of farmland -- sheep. A thin line of trees and acres homemade barbed wire fencing.
Gotye's "Eyes Wide Open" can be heard as -- Hamish runs.
His socks pulled up about half way up his shin. New running shoes and a bright red shirt. His backpack attaches to the forward wheel behind him which pulls his gear. A camelbak serves as his watering station. There's a Scottish flag attached to the hull of his tent. He's on his way past --
The Virgin train headed to Glasgow. 
EXT. ENGLAND -- DAY
Hamish treks into the labyrinth of streets and narrow corridors that is Carlisle, Cumbria. He passes through the city center and into the quaint hills.
Even uphill, Hamish is hammering his way up the sandstone. Gasping for oxygen, his legs screaming for rest, he pushes and pushes until he crests the ridge. His mouth sucks on the tube from his camelbak rehydration system.
Endless miles of open road and farmland. Drizzle and mist. Hamish remains steady -- eyes focused and his breath constant. Random, yet beautiful, castles serve as historical reminders.
Hours later. The sun has set. 
Hamish camps outside of Manchester. He boils noodles under the stars -- alone. He removes his running shoes and rests his weary feet, then gathers some nearby leaves and branches -- strikes his flint -- a flame emerges. 
Hamish sets up his tent for the evening. He reaches into his pocket and takes a look at his mobile phone -- eight missed calls -- all from Karl.
He tosses the phone into the fire. He's content to hear nothing but the crackling of the tiny blaze before him. This is home for tonight.
INT. Hotel Lobby -- day
Hamish walks up to the counter and is greeted by a PRETTY CONCIERGE. 
CONCIERGE
Good morning, how can I help you?
HAMISH
I'll need a room.
CONCIERGE
Do you have a reservation this morning?
HAMISH
I do not.
CONCIERGE
No problem. How long were you planning on staying with us?
HAMISH
Just the night.
CONCIERGE
(types)
That will be three-hundred Euro for the one night. Will that work for you today?
Hamish hands her a credit card --
HAMISH
That's fine.
CONCIERGE
Very well, sir. Smoking or non-smoking?
HAMISH
Doesn't matter really.
She finishes checking Hamish in, then hands him his room keys --
CONCIERGE
Fourteenth floor, room 1455. Elevators are to your right.
HAMISH
Thank you.
CONCIERGE
Will you be needing assistance with any bags this morning?
Hamish turns and sees the ash heap by the front entrance that is his gear. He spins back to the Concierge, smiles --
HAMISH
Probably.
INT. Manchester Bar -- night
Dark on cozy. Somebody's favorite spot to catch a match. A jukebox plays The Horrible Crowe's "Black Betty and The Moon." Hamish sits alone at the bar - drinking something brown. He sips, then examines his map. He charts his progress with a pen, as --
KARL (O.S.)
Seven million.
Hamish doesn't need to turn to know. He folds up his map --
HAMISH
What are you doing here, Karl?
KARL
You're not answering your phone. There's too much going on for your phone to be off.
HAMISH
It's not off.
Karl sits beside him and hands Hamish a tiny piece of paper -- it's a check.
KARL
(to the bartender)
A pint, please.
HAMISH
What's this?
KARL
Your shares sold for seven million Euros.
HAMISH
Who was the largest buyer?
KARL
I was.
Karl's drink arrives. He sips --
HAMISH
How do you keep finding me? 
KARL
I drove up to see Aikin after the sale. He showed me a copy of your itinerary. He's worried about you, ya know? We all are.
HAMISH
We?
KARL
Me. The Board.
HAMISH
The Board doesn't give a shit about anyone --
KARL
-- maybe so, but look at what you're doing here. You've been bought out of your father's company, you're miles away from home and you're running away from the ghost of your dead wife. How are we supposed to react?
They stare at one another for a long time before speaking --
HAMISH
Thanks for bringing me the check. It'll come in hand.
KARL
You're not gonna give this charade up, are you?
HAMISH
You know what's different about you and I? Americans see perception as being shaped by their environment. A one hundred year old church to an American is considered ancient, but not to us. For us, something ancient has been around for two thousand years.
KARL
Where you going with this, Hamish?
HAMISH
It's crippling to lose someone. When my father died, you know what I did? I donated ten thousand dollars to a children's hospital. You think those kids are any less sick because of that? They're not.
(beat)
It was powder. It was for effect, but it meant nothing. It changed nothing. This, this, will make a difference somehow. 
Karl, seeing there's no getting through, settles back in his chair.
KARL
I took the jet out here. It's being gassed up as we speak. How can I convince you to come back with me?
HAMISH
You can't.
Hamish hands him the check.
KARL
What are you doing?
HAMISH
It doesn't do me any good until this is over. 
KARL
Well, can you at least keep your phone on?
HAMISH
Sure.
INT. Hotel room -- night
Hamish steps inside and FLIPS on the light. It's a modern room -- full of sharp angles and edges. More flashy than comfortable.
He sits on the edge of the bed and begins removing his running shoes, when finished he reaches into his wallet and removes the picture of Tule. He touches her face -- he can almost feel her skin
He runs his fingers over the glossy finish and softly kisses the photo.
HamISH
(to himself)
Please let me feel you one last time. Please.
There's a sudden FLASH of memory. Some random beach day in Cannes. Tule smiles wide -- Hamish chases her down the beach and ankle deep into the water. They share a passionate kiss -- she pulls away -- he follows her into the sun. It's perfect. It's history...
We awake to --
EXT. LONDON --day
Brendan James' "Coming Up" tours us through the city. Hamish makes his way through the charcoal veins that are the public streets. He dodges cars -- passes the London Eye Ferris Wheel.
He crosses over historic london bridge. His feet moving to the pace of the drums. PEOPLE stare. They're just faces without names. Hamish waves as he passes -- Big Ben looms in the distance. 
He cruises adjacent to rows of beautiful flower gardens and stone fountains. The endless blocks of city flats. Children playing in the streets. It's  a symphony  -- a concrete jungle carnival of color and sound.
Hamish is just a visitor as he approaches --
A busy intersection. Hamish stops at the light but jogs in place in an attempt to keep his legs moving at all costs, the tent in tow behind him. The light turns, but just as Hamish begins to move forward --
SUDDENLY AND WITHOUT WARNING, HAMISH IS STRUCK DOWN BY A BRITISH TOUR BUS.
A crowd of BUSINESS MEN and WOMEN attend to Hamish's limp body. His legs have doubled under his torso -- twisted. AMBULANCE sirens booming up ahead. He fades...
INT. HoSPITAL ROOM -- DAY
Flashes of stark fluorescent light -- just scattered images of cinder block walls  and gurneys. 
Hamish's eyes burst open! He's alive. He gasps for air and looks up at the DOCTOR and MEDICAL STAFF that surrounds his bed. The room is pale and cold. 
NURSE
Blood pressure is stabilizing. Heart beat is normal.
DOCTOR
(to Hamish)
Can you hear me? Are you hearing my voice?
Hamish sits up -- half supine, half confused and on a knife's edge. He stars right back the Doctor leaning over him.
DOCTOR
Nod if you can hear me.
HAMISH
I hear you.
The Nurses leave them. 
DOCTOR
You're at Queen Elizabeth Hospital in south London. Do you remember how you got here?
Before Hamish can answer the question, the Doctor is shining  a light in his eyes and checking his vitals. 
Hamish looks up to the IV drip next to the bed --
DOCTOR
That's just something to help with the pain.
(again)
Do you remember how you got here today?
HamISH
There was an accident.
DOCTOR
You were struck by a bus yesterday. You've been out of it for about twelve hours now. How do you feel?
HAMISH
Like I got run over by a bus.
DOCTOR
Pain?
HAMISH
My legs.
DOCTOR
It's amazing that nothing was broken. 
Hamish feels his thigh with the palm of his hand --
DOCTOR
You a runner?
HAMISH
Why?
DOCTOR
Your feet were blistered.
HAMISH
Yes I am. 
DOCTOR
As luck would have it, the bus hitting you may have just saved your life.
HAMISH
Come again?
DOCTOR
When we examined your body, we found a tiny tick bite on your upper left thigh.  Combine that with the blisters,  and you're looking at a quite nasty infection.
Hamish runs his fingers through his hair --
HAMISH
Thank you Doctor. Any idea when I can be on my way?
DOCTOR
A few days. We'll keep you hear so that we can monitor you. It shouldn't be too long. 
HAMISH
My things?
DOCTOR
We stored them with the front desk. For now, try and get some rest.
The Doctor washes his hands and walks out. Hamish is left in silence. He looks down at his propped feet -- raw and blistered. 
TWO DAY LATER.
Hamish is up and moving around. He's sitting in the chair by the window, overlooking the city, while lacing up his running shoes. Once finished, he begins to tighten the elastic bands that encircles his gear.
MALE VOICE (V.O.)
Hamish?
Hamish looks up to find the face of an OLD MAN. Wrinkled and small. A sullen face with an set of ears and a nose that have never stopped growing. Hamish has never seen this person before --
HAMISH
And you are?
He removes his hat and holds it between his finger as if he's about to beg for change. His hair is short and white.
PETER
My name is Peter.
HAMISH
How'd you get in here, Peter?
PETER
I asked the Nurse to call me when you were being released. I wanted to be here to apologize to you face to face.
HAMISH
Apologize for what?
PETER
For running you over with my bus.
HAMISH
That was you?
PETER
Yes. And I'm truly sorry -- if I could take it back I would.
HAMISH
The Copers came by this morning...
PETER
I was hoping we could barter. In exchange for not pressing any charges, we -- my wife and I -- would like to help pay some of your hospital bills. We don't have much, but we'll give you everything that we've got. 
Hamish stands closer to him now --
HAMISH
Barter?
PETER
If it makes any difference. The bus company fired me that night. Twenty-nine years I spent driving that bus...
HAMISH
That doesn't make me feel any better.
PETER
I've never committed a crime before.
HAMISH
It was an accident, right?
Peter nods -- understood.
PETER
What can I do?  Do you need a ride somewhere?
HAMISH
No, thanks.
PETER
Please -- my wife won't take no for an answer.
HAMISH
Does your wife cook?
PETER
Cook?
HAMISH
Yes, cook -- like a meal? The food in this place is just awful. 
Peter cracks a half-smile --
PETER
(nods)
Can I help you carry some of your things?
INT. Peter's Apartment, living room/Kitchenette -- Night
There's food cooking on the stove. EVE is in the living room area setting the table with silver and china for two. 
The door to the apartment OPENS and CLOSES. Peter leads Hamish down a small hallway. They carry Hamish's gear in their arms. 
EVE
Where you been? Who's that?
PETER
Great to see you too, love.
Peter leans in and kisses Eve, then he presents Hamish -- 
PETER
This is Hamish. The man I was telling you about.
HaMISH
Good evening.
Hamish lightly shakes her tiny hand.
EVE
So you're the man my husband tried to kill? It's nice to meet you.
HAMISH
It was an accident.
PeTER
(again)
It was an accident. 
She smiles and nods them off, heading across the room.
PeteR
Great... I'll just go put these things in the other room then.
Peter moves Hamish's gear into the adjoining room. Hamish stands watching Eve put out a third setting with his hands folded in front of him.
HAMISH
You have a lovely home.
Eve
You don't have to be kind.
HAMISH
And the food smells great.
EVE
(motions to the table)
Please, sit down.
Hamish sits at the head of the small table. Even checks on the stove --
EvE
You'll have to excuse the mess. I wasn't aware we'd be having company.
HAMISH
It's fine.  How long have you and Peter been married?
EVE
We met forty years ago. I knew on our first date that he was the man I would marry. He was funny back then. We were young -- and we've been together ever since. 
HAMISH
That's a great story.
Peter re-appears at the table. Eve is staring at the hat on top of his head.
PeTER
Don't worry dear, I won't wear it to the table.
Eve
(matter of fact)
Hats are never to be worn at the table.
Peter lays his hat down on the floor. Eve nods with approval. She begins to serve the two men dinner.
LATER.
A record player on a milk crate PLAYS QUIET MUSIC. Hamish, Peter and Eve are eating. Hamish fingers his napkin absently.
Eve
Are you married?
Peter
Eve... he's a guest --
EVE
So? It's am honest question. I'm not asking him for a credit card number for Christ's sake.
PETER
Still...
Hamish watches them bicker, thinking.
EVE
He doesn't have to answer, but I'm curious.
HAMISH
I was once. But she passed away. 
EVE
That's awful.
Peter
I'm sorry to hear that.
HAMISH
Thank you.
Eve
(to Peter)
You almost killed a widow!
Hamish grins, be he means it. Eve pours Hamish a cup of tea and offers him a plate of cookies.
Eve
You're Scottish?
HaMISH
Born and raised.
EVE
And what do you do in Scotland?
HAMISH
My father owned a publishing company there. When he died, I took over the family business.
EVE
You mean like books?
HAMISH
Newspapers.
PETER
Impressive.
HAMISH
I talk about it now as if I ever had a choice. So casually. 
(grins)
But there was never any other option really.
EVE
And now?
HAMISH
(drinks)
Retired.
PetER
Come again?
HAMISH
I'm retired.
Peter glances at Eve.
PETER
What brings you to London?
HAMISH
I was just stopping through. It was just a red dot on my map. 
PETER
Where are you headed?
HAMISH
Greece.
Eve
What's in Greece?
HAMISH
That's where I met my wife. I'm going there to see her off.
Silence.
LATER STILL. Eve has long since gone up for the night. Peter smokes his pipe in an old, yet comfortable recliner chair. Hamish stands at the window overlooking the dainty country-side. Peter breaks the silence with --
PETER
What are you running away from, son?
HAMISH
What?
PETER
I see it on your face. I saw it in your eyes when you mentioned your wife. You're running as scared as anyone ever has. 
(smokes)
What is it?
HAMISH
I'm not scared.
PETER
Tell me about your father?
HAMISH
Why do you want to know about my father?
PETER
You can tell a lot about a man from how they describe their father.
Hamish resists, but eventually gives into Peter. Maybe it was the hated sound of silence, or maybe Hamish actually wanted to talk about his father, either way, Hamish's eyes are now securely lost in the memory of his past --
HAMISH
My father was the consummate businessman, but not without love.
The vivid, bright memory of a FATHER and 4 YEAR OLD BOY. They are a spinning image of one another. The Boy in the Father's lap, talking softly, reading a book about insects in a large leather chair.
HAMISH
He was always so full of that Scottish national fucking pride. 
The Father pours himself a glass of something clear. He drinks as his Son still sits in his lap. The Boy places his small hand across his Father's larger one. 
HAMISH (V.O.)
He never thought twice about anything. Second guessing was a weakness. He was always fighting for a cause. Always giving things away without a second thought.
The young Boys green eyes, his pale skin -- his life just waiting to begin.
HAMISH
He had thing for games. Chess. He played it, studied it. He used to try to teach me how to play even thought I was too young.
(regretful eyes)
It was his way of leaving me something better I guess.
Father and Son talk over an antique wooden chess board. The board pieces are mammoth in the small Boy's eager hands. Father smiles.
HAMISH (V.O.)
I was too young to comprehend what he was talking about, only that he wanted me to understand.
Father moves the chess pieces around the board -- his Son sweetly mirrors each and every movement and facial expression his Father makes.

HAMISH
It wasn't until years later that I figured out that it was never about the game. It was about taking your time with life. One life. Once chance to do something real. 
Father holds his Son tight in his arms. A somber and beautiful moment between them. The Boy  is so tiny in his Father's loving arms. The chess board beside them. 
HaMISH
But I followed in his footsteps. Work first, love second. I made it an afterthought just as he did. And now, when it's too late, I'm trying to do something real.
Peter stands and touches a broken Hamish on the shoulder.
PETER
You're a good man. An honest man. I never met my father, he died before I was born. All I have is other people's stories -- other people's memories. None of my own. You cherish those. Whatever you're doing out here, you take them with you. You take his memory with you to the end. And then he'll know. 
(soft)
She'll know too.
Hamish fights the tears as Peter walks back towards the bedroom.
HAMISH
Where you going?
PetER
It's late. Eve might start thinking that I got a girlfriend.
They smile at one another.
EXT. ENGLAND -- DAY
Early morning sunlight. Hamish, along with his carriage, are no more than a silhouette against an orange and yellow backdrop of hills and grass. 
He jogs. A calm, steadfast tornado of breathing patterns and beading sweat.
HAMISH  (V.O.)
"The majority of us lead quiet, unheralded lives as we pass through this world. There's no ticker-tape parade for us, no monuments created in our honor..."
Just ahead, the sun beams off the calm ocean waves as they crash into the rocky North German Coastline.
INT. PETER'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM -- Day
Peter and Eve sit at the dinner table. Empty cups of coffee and half-eaten biscuits. They read --
HAMISH (V.O.)
"... But that doesn't lessen our possible impact. There are scores of people waiting for someone just like you to come along; people who will appreciate compassion and unique talents."
Eve opens a sealed envelope which Hamish had left behind -- Euros. A thick stack of paper money. More than Peter could earn in a year.
HAMISH (v.O.)
"Maybe that's what we're all out here looking for anyway. Someone who will live a happier life merely because we took the time to share what we had to give. Or, you can run them over with a bus..."
Peter folds the note in half and stares at Eve. She smiles -- grateful tears in her eyes. They hug.
EXT. FERRY -- day
Clint Mansell's "Shell Shock" sounds over us as Hamish rests his weary body against the railing of the upper deck. There are pockets of PASSENGERS here and there -- a few of them shooting glances at him as he rubs his legs down and shakes out the cold breeze.
EXT. GERMANY -- DAY
Mother Nature pours out her mighty fury. A frenzy of hard rain and billowing winds. It plummets onto Hamish in sheets -- intense and powerful. 
He struggles with his footing as he passes barely visible farmland, abandoned light houses, and wind turbines. Hamish's feet fumble. Each stride leads to a faux -- a misstep -- a slip. 
The THUNDER HOWLS as Hamish gaffs -- he hits the ground HARD. He gathers himself to his feet -- pain on his brow -- he presses onward through the squall. 
It's a war of attrition. A battle of control, but --
It's nearly impossible to see anything -- Hamish seeks shelter beneath a combine of  tall trees. He leans his back against one of the many waterlogged trunks.  His hands planted on his kneecaps. He battles for breath.
His gear -- soaked. His jacket -- saturated. There's no use in moving forward. Hamish slides down until his rear hits the sopping ground. He holds himself.
TIME LAPSE.
More torrential rain. Hamish moves at a snail's space through the treacherous terrain. Each step is an enormous effort. It's laboring just to watch.
TIME LAPSE -- NIGHTFALL.
Hamish rests along the side of a rarely traveled road. The rain has subsided for now. He gazes up at the stars, then runs his finger's over the wallet sized picture of Tule. It's almost intrusive to watch.
TIME LAPSE.
A clandestine camp site. Hamish struggles to light a small fire. His hands have become shaky and thin. He slams the flint down in sheer frustration. 
TWO MAN approach him from behind. 
MAN 1
Sie brauchen Hilfe?
Hamish turns to them. They smoke. Hair greased back and far from the look of a traditional "camper." 
HAMISH
Deutsch...
MAN 1
Ja.
Hamish squints his eyes to remember, then fumbles through the very limited German that he knows off the top of his head --
HAMISH
Im Versuch -- machen eine... feuer.
The Men look at each other.
MAN 1
Feuer?
HAMISH
Ja.
The first Man gets down on one knee and strikes the flint near Hamish's pile of pine cones and leaves. It sparks -- he blows gently to spread the flame.
MAN 1
Wie ist das? Gut?
HAMISH
Gut. Vielen Dank.
MAN 1
Woher kommen Sie?
Hamish sees a glimpse of  chrome plated .45 tucked into the German's belt. He's on edge now --
HAMISH
Schottland...
MAN 1
Ah, Schottland!
MAN 2
Sich beeilen, Wir sollten gehen!
HaMISH
Nochmals vielen Dank.
Man 1
Das Problem.
They turn and leave Hamish justa s quick as they found him. Hamish cannot take his eyes off of them as they shrink away into the camp site. 
Once they disappear, Hamish warms his hands against the fire.
EXT. Hanover, Germany -- day
Hamish jogs into town. He passes the majestic colors and shades within the HerrenhausenÊGardens -- the peaceful blue sky over New Town Hall -- the rowdy CROWDS outside of AWD Arena. He's not lingering for any of these...
INT. Department Store -- Day
Hamish buys new running shoes. He examines them before trying them on. He sits -- removes his socks -- his feet are swollen and red. He touches them as if he's never seen them before. A YOUNG GIRL notices.
Hamish smiles at her. She smiles right back at him. Her MOTHER shuffles her away from him in a hurry. Hamish catches his reflection in a nearby mirror -- he look like a homeless person. 
CASHIER.
Hamish hands his credit card over to the FEMALE CLERK. She runs it and hands him a receipt to sign.
FEMALE CLERK
English?
HAMISH
Yes, I speak English.
FEMALE CLERK
Are you the man? From the news?
HAMISH
(confused)
I"m sorry?
She reaches under the counter and presents him with today's Hannoversche Allgemeine newspaper -- Hamish's picture is featured on one of the pages.
FEMALE CLERK
See?
HAMISH
(surprised to see this --)
What does it say?
FEMALE CLERK
You are running across Europe. Through Germany on your way to Greece, no?
HAMISH
Who gave you this? Who told them about what I'm doing --
He stops himself short, she wouldn't have a clue. He glances over the article -- none of it makes any sense to him.
FEMALE CLERK
Is something wrong?
HAMISH
Can you translate the name of the author who wrote this article?
She takes a look and writes a name down on the back of his receipt. He takes the paper from her.
HAMISH
Can I keep this?
FEMALE CLERK
Sure...
INT. INternet cafe -- day
Hamish stands against the inside wall of a phone booth -- the receipt in one hand and a German dictionary in the other. The phone at his ear. It RINGS several times, until --
VOICE (O.S.)
Hallo?
HaMISH
(into phone)
Hallo -- hello? ... ich suche Emmerich.
Silence.
VOICE (O.S.)
Wer spricht?
HAMISH
Mein Name ist Hamish. Sie schrieb über mich en --
(looking up words)
-- die Zeitung. Der Läufer, Hamish?
VOICE (O.S.)
Was kann ich Ihnen helfen?
HAMISH
Ich -- möchte wissen, wer... Sie erzählt mir?
Silence, before --
VOICE (O.S.)
Mister Karl.
Hamish isn't surprised. He doesn't say another word. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair. Disappointment.
EXT. Germany -- DAY/NIGHT
David Gray's "Fugitive" bellow as Hamish runs through German farmland. Perfect rows and tumbling hills.
TIME LAPSE.
The broken and hallowed remains of ancient churches seen now only through the eyes of tourists. Each one taller than the last, reaching for Heaven. Hamish takes them in as he passes.
TIME LAPSE.
Light snow freezes to Hamish's scruffy beard as he approaches the Nuremberg Christmas Market. A million twinkling lights and happy faces. The Frauenkirche in the background. Rows of vendors and hundreds of hipster sight-seers. This place is alive.
Hamish slows to a stop. He commits this place to memory, then glances down at his wrist watch,
INT. NUREMBERG -- BAR -- Night
When Hamish walks through the front door, Karl is already seated at a high top. He sips a beer. He's ordered something much more expensive for Hamish. It's served in a small glass.
Hamish sits --
HamISH
You got my message...
KARL
I tried not to come -- I did. But it sounded important. So, here I am in Nuremberg. 
(drinks)
You look good.
HAMISH
No I don't.
KARL
I was being nice. You look like shit.
HAMISH
(offers little)
How could you run a story about me?
KARL
Story?
HAMISH
Don't bullshit me. The one about me -- about what I'm doing down here. 
KARL
How'd you find out?
HAMISH
I read it. 
KARL
What did you think?
HAMISH
This is for me. This is personal, understand?
KARL
And what about me? What about the other people that care about you? Fuck them too?
HAMISH
I don't want my life on the printing press.
KARL
You don't get to make that call any longer, remember? You're a civilian. The paper reports whatever it feels like reporting. We don't have to ask for non-disclosure...
Hamish slides the drink away.
HAMISH
I'm not doing this so that you can make money. 
KARL
On the record, I'll tell you that the story was run because we felt it would sell newspapers. Off the record, you should know that publicity you're getting back home in unparalleled. 
HAMISH
I never asked for publicity --
KARL
You're raising awareness. I don't get it, but it's happening. People are following your progress. Families are donating money they probably don't have. They're rooting for you. I thought you'd be happy?
Hamish leans back in his chair. He stares at Karl, it's tense. Karl slides the drink back in front of Hamish.
KARL
I'm not such a bad guy after all, am I?
Hamish drains the drink.
KARL
You're thin.
HAMISH
No company lunches out there.
KARL
I gotta catch a flight out tonight, I don't suppose you'd want to come with me?
HAMISH
What do you think?
Karl smiles and finishes his drink --
KARL
I thought so.
Something catches Hamish's eye. Above the bar -- a TELEVISION plays a local NEWSCAST. He can't make out the words, but he recognizes the photos:
The two Men who helped him build a fire earlier at the camp site. Mug shots. Fugitives from the law.
KARL
What's up? What's the matter?
HAMISH
(distracted)
Huh? Nothing...
KARL
What happened?
Snapping himself out of it --
HAMISH
It's nothing. I'm fine -- really.
EXT. SOUTHERN GERMANY -- DAY / NIGHT
Civil Twilight's "Letters From the Sky..."
Hamish's growing beard and continued weight loss provide evidence that substantial time has passed since his last meeting with Karl in Nuremberg. 
He waltzes past the lovely landscape of the Black Forest in the west --the rolling hills of central Bavaria -- the valleys of the Rhine and Danube and the Alpine scenery in the south make up a country full of scenic delights. 
He runs through the lure of Munich and some of Germany's most beautiful towns - Augsburg, Wurtzburg, Heidelberg, Bamberg among others. Takes it all in with mental photographs.
EXT. Austrian Border -- day
Camp. Early morning bitter cold. A dwindling fire beside Hamish's tent.
INT. HAMISH'S TENT-- DAY
Hamish wakes up from his sleep.  He thought he heard something.  He listens.  He hears the BIRDS CHIRPING. But, there's something else. A SCRATCHING just outside his tent. 
He wrestles himself free of the blankets and UNZIPS the tent to find --
A TEENAGER. Completely naked, waving a knife. Hamish looks back to his gear, knowing full well he cannot leave it behind no matter the circumstance.
TEENAGER
(broken English)
Money! Give me money, now!
HAMISH
You speak English...
TEENAGER
Hurry up or I'll cut you open right here.
HAMISH
You don't have to do this. Let's discuss what you need.
TEENAGER
(pissed)
I'm not telling you again!
HAMISH
I can give you some money, just put the knife down.
He raises his blade into Hamish's chest but Hamish grabs the handle and holds it down. They struggle --
HAMISH
You don't have to do this, son.
The Teen looks scared as he begins to waver a bit. He fights to wiggle  his hand free, two separate hands on one handle, Hamish refuses to let go. 
Hamish pushes the Teen back -- he winces, Hamish shoves him back again -- doesn't let go. The Teenager tries to jerk the knife forward, but Hamish forces it away, it slices the Teen's thumb by accident -- blood dribbles down his finger and onto his pant leg like urine.
HAMISH
Let go!
He doesn't. Hamish has no choice but to drive the tip of the knife further into the Teen's thumb -- nearly cutting it off. The Teen SCREAMS in pain and falls to the ground, HARD.
Hamish tosses the knife into the trees and then stands over the injured Teen -- he grips is bludgeoned hand with the bottom of his white  T-shirt -- obvious pain.
HAMISH
What's your name?
TEENAGER
Look what you did to my hand, man!
HAMISH
You did that to yourself. Tell me your name.
MONK
Monk.
HAMISH
Monk? That's some name...
MONK
Fuck you, man.
HAMISH.
Keep pressure on the wound.
MONK
(examining him)
Why? Who are you?
HAMISH.
I'm nobody, but I'm gonna get you outta here -- get you some help for your hand. 
MONK
Yeah? How you gonna do that? I'm bleeding all over the place!
HAMISH.
Stand up but keep pressure on it. I'll take you to a hospital. There has to be one around here? Do you live around here?
MONK
Why?
HAMISH.
This doesn't have to be that difficult... you were the one who brought the knife, remember?
Finally --
MONK
It's not far. Couple of miles. 
HAMISH.
Let's go.
INT. AUSTRIAN COFFEE SHOP -- day
Hamish and Monk are having late breakfast at a real middle-class joint. Monk has his hand professionally wrapped and bandaged. His face is washed and his hair is combed. 
Hamish is eating and All-American breakfast -- Monk sips orange juice -- that's all.
HAMISH
You're not hungry?
MonK
No.
HAMISH
You sure? My dollar --
MONK
-- I'm fine. 
HAMISH
Fair enough --
(stops himself)
-- where's home?
MONK
Vienna.
HAMISH
I've never been there, but it seems like a really nice place. Where are your parents?
MONK
Who cares?
HAMISH
I care. You do have parents, don't you?
MONK
Not entirely. 
Silence. Hamish scoffs down his food, then presses a bit further --
HAMISH
You just -- fell out of the sky or something? Sprouted out of the ground like a patch of onions?
MONK
They split. 
HAMISH
You can't possibly like this life. It's hell, isn't it? Being away from home?
MONK
It's not so bad. 
Short, quick silence. Monk's eyes retract. Hamish goes on --
HAMISH
Young boys are supposed to dress nice, attend school, play ball with other boys, you know, that kind of stuff.
Monk takes a large chug of juice --
MONK
That's not for me. 
HAMISH
Which one left? Your mother or your father?
MONK
Father.
HAMISH
That's tough. A boy needs his father.
MONK
You got a father?
HAMISH
No. He died after I was fully grown.
MONK
My mother cared more about the drink than her own son, so I left. Fuck it, eh? She treated me bad, honest. She even beat me up once. 
Hamish breaks into an infectious frown. He pushes his fork aside, now clearly seeing the entire situation here.
HAMISH
I'm sorry, Monk. I had no idea.
MONK
I look at it this way. A lot of people come and go, some of them love life and others hate it. So I figure the best I can do is leave them all alone -- not bother them at all. So I don't say a thing. I never get close to anyone. I pretend I'm not even there. One day, they'll understand that and appreciate me for it. So --
HAMISH
-- so you steal from people. People like me?
MONK
I have to eat.
HAMISH
So do I.
It takes Hamish a moment to digest this pure example of negative thinking. 
MONK
I should go.
HAMISH
Let me help you?
MONK
(his hand)
You've done enough.
HAMISH
I can get you a place to stay, just for a while until you go back home.
MONK
Home? Why would I want to go home? 
Hamish glances outside -- PEOPLE come and go -- each in opposite directions -- no one cares much for what the other is doing. He sees this, takes a deep breath, then --

HAMISH
My mother had a favorite poem. Patrick Kavanagh had written it, he was an Irish poet. She used to sing it to me when I couldn't sleep.
A beautiful MOTHER snuggly tucks a young Hamish into bed. She gently kisses the top of his head and takes a seat beside him. He looks up to her as if he's conversing with and angel.
HAMISH (V.O.)
You will have the road gate open, the front door ajar. The kettle boiling and a table set by the window looking out at the sycamores. And your loving heart lying in wait.
She comforts him by SINGING ever so softly.  Hamish closes his tired eyes. She looks over him with pride. A Mother's true love. 
HAMISH (V.O.)
For me coming up among the poplar trees. You'll know my breathing and my walk. And it will be a summer evening on those roads. Lonely with leaves of thought.
Hamish's Mother dresses him in a finely pressed black suit -- his collar folded down -- his tie clipped -- fitted snug around his fragile neck. She pats the lint off his shoulder -- approval.
HAMISH (V.O.)
We will be choked with the grief of things growing. The silence of dark-green air.
Life too rich -- the nettles, docks and thistles -- all answering the prodigal's prayer.
The front porch. Overlooking the mountains. Hamish's mother sits upright in her favorite rocking chair.  A tear falls from her eyes. A rosary clutched tight in her hands. A glass of water rests on the table beside her -- her hand falls -- her head gives way... She's undeniably, gone.
HAMISH (V.O.)
You will know I am coming though I send no word. For you were lover who could tell a man's thoughts -- my thoughts, though I hid them. Through you I knew woman and did not fear her spell.
Monk sits back, affected by the poem in some way he cannot yet examine or begin to explain.
MONk
What happened to her?
HAMISH
She took her own life. 
There are no words, until --
HAMISH
That's why you have you have to go home. Once they're gone, they can't come back. No matter how hard your pray. And anything they've done to you -- anything they've said to hurt you -- it all... slides away. And you're left with nothing.  You can't possibly want that. You can't possibly imagine how it hurts.
Monk
Is that what happened to you?
HAMISH
(nods)
You have to make it right.
(to himself)
You have to make it right.
EXT. AustRIAN Road -- day
Hamish and Monk journey down a desolate road together. They do not talk -- they just walk side by side. Every now and again, they glace over at one another. Finally, Hamish stops him by grabbing his arm --
HAMISH
I want you to have something.
He removes the knife Monk once used against him and hands it back to him like a Christmas present.
Monk
How did you find it?
HAMISH
I tracked it down why you were getting patched up. I figured, maybe it was important to you.
Monk take it. Holds it, and says the words Hamish has been wanting to hear --
MONK
I'll go. 
HAMISH
Use that for something more constructive?
MONK
I will. I promise.
(like a child)
Thank you. For everything.
(his hand)
And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about the whole knife thing.
HAMISH
It's okay. It was my pleasure, Monk.
They shake hands. Monk nods -- understood. They turn away from each other -- separate directions on this foreign road. Monk turns --
MONK
You never told me where you were going?
HAMISH
Greece!
MONK
Why Greece?
HAMISH
Let's just say, I have something there that needs to be made right.
Monk smiles, then scampers off. Hamish loads up his gear behind him, smiles once to himself, and then begins to run...
EXT. Austria -- DAY/ NIGHT
The symphony of winter is in full swing. Hamish runs through each painful step.  Thousands of feet of sheer slippery slabs of iced rock walls -- relentless windstorms -- altitude and temperatures colder than you can imagine.
He builds fires. He sleeps. He eats what he can, when he can. Hamish's legs fail due to the  brutal challenge of the terrain. He rests.
He pushes himself to go forward -- no one is going to do this for him. There is no elevator back down. No reset button. 
He staggers on in the dark to arrive at the summit as soon as the sun comes up.
He suffers through Edema -- confused and combative. Exhaustion and overheating. 
Moments of sun and warmth arrive.  Euphoric. Hamish can finally see the green grass and flowers on the lower levels of the mountains -- he SCREAMS with pure joy.
When he slipped -- he never got hurt. When he slept -- he always woke up. When his legs gave in -- he always found a way to keep pressing onward. Hamish glanced down at the photo of Tule. He was almost there.
EXT. Hungary -- day
Hamish's yellow tent rests beyond the glassy river below. The white caps and jagged mountain sides serve as a perfectly posed backdrop. 
It's calm. It's quiet. It's perfect.
INT. Hamish'S TeNT-- NIGHT
Hamish's weary eyes flutter open. He's lost track of where he was -- he's lost. As if he awoken from the sweetest dream imaginable. He lays there for a moment.
A SCRATCHING at the outside of his tent. Hamish rises to sit upright. He silently waits to hear it again -- LOUDER still.
Hamish slowly reaches out for the tent's zipper. He ever so cautiously begins to turn down the zipper -- each inch brings about new anxiety. 
SNARLING.
The tent flap is now fully open -- Hamish swallows -- sits back and waits through a moment of silence, then --
The massive head of a Forest Wolf pokes through the opening. Enormous teeth. More slender than a lion -- tawnier colored fur. It's narrow snout sniffs the air in here. Hamish is frozen in fear.
A second Wolf emerges behind. The fur is coarser than that of the first wolf, with less soft wool intermixed with it, and the mane is much more pronounced.
A third wolf GROWLS in next. It's guard hairs are tipped with black.
HAMISH
(to himself)
Easy now. Easy now...
They stare directly into Hamish's eyes -- he stares right back at them as to not show submissiveness.
HAMISH
What do you want? You want food?
They step forward. Aggressive and on edge --
HAMISH
I can give you some food --
Hamish raises his right hand -- he presents it to the pack -- they SNARL and sniff -- he leadenly reaches into his backpack and removes a half-frozen loaf of bread. He places the loaf in the grip of both hands -- extends it to the first wolf. 
It drools over the bread. They WHIMPER for a taste. Hamish stays completely still as the wolves discover the bread and decipher whether or not they desire it. 
HAMISH
Take it and go. Please...
The first wolf grips the loaf with it's jaw. Much to Hamish's surprise -- they graciously accept his offering and begin to step back out of the tent. They're gone. 
Once they are gone, Hamish quickly zips up the tent as it was before. He calms his breathing -- almost a panic attack -- he's safe for now, but feels far from it. Winds SMASH against the tent -- it beats down at it's foundation. Hamish covers his ears like child hiding from thunder...
TIME LAPSE.
Morning. 
The tent has collapsed. Laid up in sections -- bent and broken. Ripped. Cleft sections of cloth and thin piping.
Hamish's face lay flat up against the frigid, hardened ground. He's fast asleep. The kind of look upon your sleeping face when all is well. A look of appeasement. Content. Like sleeping in on a Saturday morning. A warmth about him --
We pan up to find the reason for his gratified leer. The three wolves have crowned him within their thick coats. A canopy of warm insulation and sheer body heat. It's magnificent. Hamish is seated at the middle of their adoration. Entwined with the beasts. They protect him -- the purest form of adulation.
TIME LAPSE.
Hamish treks through the Hungarian hallowed grounds. His newfound companions alongside him through the trees. He keeps a thankful eye on them. Sometimes they lead, other times they follow.
It's almost melodic. Divine. Hamish no long braves these discordant conditions alone. 
A trio of battered soldiers. Paratroopers having landed in an environmentally hostile maze of trees and thorns. Rocks and ice. There is faith in one another as they climb -- they look to each other for direction. They trust. They take it as gospel. 
NIGHT.
A small fire. Hamish warms his aching hands -- they tremble a bit. 
One of the wolves emerges from the thick woods with an offering. A rodent of some kind slouches out of it's jaw. The wolf offers it at Hamish's feet. He WHIMPERS. Hamish cautiously places his hand on the beast's burly yet beautiful fur.
He pets the wild animal like a domesticated pet --
HAMISH
Good boy.
The other wolves follow suit. They begin to hunt for Hamish. They are now the most unlikely partners in the game of  survival.
Hamish rigs some sticks over his fire. A make-shift roaster. He begins to prepare the raw animals. 
He tosses his three newfound companions their share prior to his own -- perhaps it's his way of saying thank you in a way the wolves could understand -- they all eat.
HAMISH
Enjoy it boys. We earned it.
The wolves HOWL in delight. Hamish joins them in their celebration. He LAUGHS. He is able to.

LATER.
Hamish watches the small fire dissipate into a deep orangey glow. One wolf under each of his arms. The third at his feet. A blanket of warmth. 
HAMISH
I wish she could see this now. I wish I could show her.
He closes his eyes for the night.
Ext. Serbian Border -- day
Of Monsters and Men's "Yellow Light" guides us over a changed landscape. 
Hamish uses hsi map and compass to navigate through a patchy road. His feet begin to drag -- the wolves begin to linger a bit more than usual.
They comes to an obscure bridge. Hamish turns to find the wolves steadfast -- the three of them -- beaming at him with softened, stirred eyes. Hamish's thoughts wander from the beasts, to the bridge, and back  --
HAMISH
What's the matter?
They cower back a bit. The music stops. 
HAMISH
Let's go.
(off the stillness)
C'mon now.
The wolves begin to affectedly turn away from Hamish -- he walks towards them -- but they begin to saunter into the brush. One final stare between them. They drift. Hamish stands, heartbroken and once again -- alone.
HAMISH
(to himself)
Know your limits.
He crosses the bridge and enters the charming Serbian countryside. 
TIME LAPSE.
Hamish flights through the mixture of historical cultures and societies having an enchanting mixture of conventional and modern ways. 
The wetlands -- the plains -- the mountains...
KARL (V.O.)
"...He's doing something remarkable really, it's something few people anywhere in this world could dream of accomplishing. It's a miracle he's alive, but he is alive, and he's got all of us standing along side him..."
INTERVIEWER (V.O.)
"Any ideas where he might be at this time?"
Hamish struggles through the vast woodlands, -- the Deliblato Sand desert -- the Perucac. 
KARL (V.O.)
"It's hard to say. He doesn't contact us much anymore. It's been the good portion of a year now, so I would guess, unforeseen anything  terrible happening to him -- he might be coming close to the end."
INTERVIEWER (V.O.)
"If he could hear you now, wherever he might be, what would you say to him? What would your message to him be?"
Traditional villages. The colorful nature around him -- Hamish's pace has come to a crawl. His legs are moving as anchors sent over the side of a ship. Pain on his brow.
KARL (V.O.)
"I would say... I'm perfectly comfortable with the belief that the end is the end. Hamish needed believe in something more, and that's fine. I don't think I need to 'find God' right now -- although perhaps I'll change my mind at the eleventh hour. Maybe I'll change my mind when I see him again. I dunno..."
Hamish collapses at the edge of a road. He cannot go on. His fingers are numb to feeling -- his feet red and swollen from miles and miles of abuse. He rests there under the bluest sky. He submits only for the moment --
AikIN (V.O.)
"He's lost someone. He 's lost all of his reasons..."
Hamish leans to the side, long enough and far enough to collapse on his back. His eyes glaze over a bit --

AiKIN (V.O.)
"That leaves out a lot of the simple pleasures we take so much joy in. Like the joy of a baby, or the pleasure of drying our clothes in the warm sunlight, or the satisfaction of a job well done..."
Hamish closes them tight. His hand clutches to the same picture of Tule he's kept all along. This is the end. There is no more -- his body is broken and can take no more. He fades -- 
AIKIN (V.O.)
"He always thought he'd never really enjoy the real meaning of being a human being created in the image of God. The point when the dark glass is removed, and the view of Heaven changes. It becomes clearer. When that happens, I believe the things that give us pleasure in this world will make much more sense and give a whole lot more."
InTERVIEWER (V.O.)
"Anything else you'd like to say to him?"
Hamish's body lay motionless on the side of the road. There's no sound -- just the creek water rushing below. Leaves in the wind. 
AIKIN (V.O.)
(through tears)
"Just that Tule loves him and that I love him. And to please come home soon. That's all."
INT. Emergency Room -- day
Hamish's eyes slowly open. The dull white of overhead tube lighting blinds him.
He blinks his vision back to life. He realizes he's in a bed. He hears VOICES and MOVEMENT around him.
He looks around. He finds his way. There are a few prep beds next to him. They're all empty.
Hamish follows the urgent SOUNDS OF ACTIVITY to the curtain across from him. 
He can only see bits and pieces of activity through it -- it's drawn shut. Hospital personnel treat patients, some more worse off than others. Gurneys.
One of the NURSES glances through and opening in  the curtain and see that Hamish sitting up in bed. She walks over --
NURSE
(struggles through her limited --)
English?
HAMISH
Yes.
NURSE
How are you feeling?
She FLASHING A LIGHT in Hamish's eyes.
HAMISH
I'm not sure what happened.
NURSE
You were nearly dead. A farmer and his wife brought you in a few hours ago. 
(beat)
How is your vision?
HAMISH
Fine.
NURSE
Do you know where you are?
HAMISH
I'm not sure.
NURSE
Serbia.
HAMISH
(so out of it)
Serbia?
NURSE
You're nearly there.
And now it become clear to Hamish.
HAMISH
You know who I am?
NURSE
Of course. We all know who you are.
Hamish looks past her and see a group of Nurses and Doctors watching them as they talk.
HAMISH
Why are they looking at me like that
NURSE
You've come so far. It's pretty amazing if you think about it. 
HAMISH
I had some things with me.
NURSE
We kept them in a locker for you. You can claim them when you check out.
HAMISH
I need to go.
NURSE
You need to rest. We'll move you to a more private room for a day or two. 
Hamish is placed in a wheelchair. The Nurse pushed him forward through a MOB of PEOPLE and cameras. Hamish just sits there, stoic. He's aware that the cameras are catching it all. He's overwhelmed.
Hospital STAFF and a couple of POLICE OFFICERS push the media back. 
They reach the elevators and wait there. Hamish looks shaken. The media jockeys for position as they get a last glimpse of Hamish before they enter the elevator and disappear from sight. 
INT. Recovery Room -- night
Hamish lays supine in the center of the quiet room. Karl knifes his way in through the door as to not wake him -- but he's already up.
He removes his hat and stands next to the bed, saddened to see his good friend in this condition --
HAMISH
(heavily sedated)
Karl?
KARL
Hey buddy. How ya doing?
HAMISH
Ah, you know -- this and that. Been better.
KARL
The doctor says you've got hip bursitis --
HAMISH
-- I'm perfectly fine --
KARL
-- he also said you've got shin splints and a stress fracture in your knee. 
HAMISH
Karl, please. I already know what you're going to say.
KARL
That you should stop? Yeah, I would say that. But would you listen? No.
(beat)
I came here to help you.
HAMISH
Help me?
KARL
To help you finish this. 
HAMISH
Do you think Tule would quit? Do you think she would give in because of this?
KARL
Probably not.
HAMISH
That's all I keep thinking about. What she would do if she were here right now.
KARL
She'd drag you right out of this bed.
Hamish cracks a smile. Karl sits beside him he grins to himself.
HAMISH
What?
KARL
You remember that night I found you in your office? After Tule's funeral? 
(off Hamish's nod)
You asked if I remembered that kid's name -- the one you laid out in the bar that night? I lied to you when I said I didn't remember. 
(beat)
His name was Brutus. And Jesus Christ was he ugly.
HAMISH
Way I remember it, I did the poor bastard a favor.
They share a LAUGH. 
KARL
You've got a lot waiting for you back home, you know that, right? 
HAMISH
I know. I just have to see this through. Otherwise I'll never be able to let her go.
KARL
Okay.
HAMISH
You wouldn't believe me when I tell you what I've seen, Karl.
KARL
Try me.
HAMISH
Wolves. 
KARL
Wolves?
HAMISH
Three of them.
Karl nods -- somewhat confused. They stay in there respective places. Two sad waifs in a dim room. 
EXT. SerBIA -- DAY
Hamish jogs with the help of a walking brace. There's no gear. There's no tent. This is the home stretch. Each step looks so painful. So difficult to perform.
Karl drives a SEDAN, some late model, a good fifteen or twenty yards behind him. His shadow of sorts. A watchful eye over his friend. 
On parts of the trail, Karl would disappear as the road would be too narrow -- too dangerous. Hamish moves forward and reunites up ahead.
ExT. GREECE -- DAY
The most breathtaking landscape we've seen to this point. Magnificent rocks that jet deep into the deepest, blue oceans. The sun rises above the most iridescent formations and hidden lakes. Something only a God could create.
Hamish pushes through ancient ruins -- the middle of nowhere -- Karl sometimes behind him -- sometimes not. 
Miles of short rolling hills and green plots -- farms. Fig trees and rock walls. 
The southern tip of  the Pind mountains -- Meteori village -- Basalt rests. Breathtaking.
Feet moving. Breathing labored. Hamish winces in a constant struggle of wits with his own body.
Antropogenic meadow -- Kermes Oak -- Pine forests -- Hamish paces through the rough and mountainous Arcadia on his way into the bay at Kardamili.
EXT. Ferry -- Greek coast -- DAY
Hamish stands in line to board. Karl comes racing from the car to where he stands. When he gets there, he notices Hamish has only purchased one ticket.
KARL
What's going on?
HAMISH
This part is just for me. I go alone from here.
KARL
Are you sure?
HAMISH
I'm sure.
KARL
I'll wait here. But when you get back?
HAMISH
When I get back, it's over.
They shake hands for a moment. Karl sees him off as Hamish vanishes into the ferry's hull. 
TIME LAPSE.
Later. The ferry glides through the moderate waves like a hot knife through butter. She's steady and unwavering. Her lights --a beacon in the distance. 
Hamish rests against the railing. Sea water spritzes against his face from time to time. He closes his eyes. Breathing deep. It's calming. It's familiar.
HaMISH
(to himself)
Almost home...
EXT. Santorini -- day
Dusk. Hamish exits the ferry and maneuvers past the sea of merchants and gypsies attempting to rob tourists blind of anything valuable. He is focused and resolute on reaching his final destination.
The beautiful crater in over the Mediterranean sea. The metamorphic paradise in the middle of blue waters. Stone buildings and narrow corridors. 
Mychael Danna's "It's a Process" builds in the air, as --
Hamish begins to pick up steam -- each step is an old chapter -- a familiar step in time -- a hidden gem of memories once shared with somebody else. He's moving --
Like a child learning to walk, like an ancient clock, around each corner, each crevasse of this labyrinth of yesterday. 
His eyes are rising like as storm. Past the cliffs, the modern hotels, the stone domes and hidden churches -- past the lovers, the dreamers -and the white sand beaches.
All his pain, all his power, all the love he's ever made, he's ever forgotten, he's ever lost or stolen -- anyone he's ever hurt, all of it moving now inside him -- a bevy of emotion. 
His arms out to the sides, a fallen angel, a misguided soul vying for redemption. He's coming up on that spot now. The alter of his life.
He sees Tule's face -- her perfect skin, he can taste her tears, the salt in her skin. Her eyes and smile -- he misses it so. Her hair in the wind. All of the moments we all take for granted, the part that's missing -- all the chances we squander to let them know -- we love every part of them. From beginning to end...
TOP OF THE CRATER.
Hamish stops. The view from here is resplendent -- cruise ships in the far distance. He walks to the far edge looking down upon this beloved place. 
HAMISH
Tule. My sweet Tule. There will always be a hole in my life. A place where you fit in so nicely. And it will never completely close. I'm sure you were loved by so many others, but none of them more than me. 
(beat)
There are pieces I'll always keep close to me now. North is always "Up" on a map, temperatures below zero were always such a cool experience, rain, we need it. The plants and animals need it. And no matter when the sun rises, it always ends up burnt orange.
(holds back the tears)
I'm sorry I was so difficult. I know that you used to get tired of dealing with me, but you were always so quick to tell me how proud you were. And you were good at it. You were so good at everything you did. 
(Tule's photo)
Tell me what you need and I'll do it. And if you don't know what you need just yet, just call me in two weeks, okay? Not to talk about this. But just to talk. And if I don't answer, keep trying until you get through. And if I don't call you back you can just kick me in the arse.
(beat)
I miss you, baby. I miss you more than you could ever imagine. And I'll be a better person. Not for any other reason other than just because, and because that's what you would have done. 
Hamish quiets himself. A gust of wind picks the photo of Tule up. The photo floats up into the air and over the Sea. Hamish watches it disappear into the burnt orange setting sun. 
The Weepies' "World Spins Madly" leads us over the calm, majestic Sea...
EXT. Ferry -- DAY
Hamish seated. Motionless. Watching Santorini shrink away as the boat moves further away from the volcano in the middle of nowhere. His eyes close and he welcomes the breeze against his face.
EXT. Greece -- Coast -- Day
Hamish gingerly maneuvers past the crowds and finds Karl leaning up against his car. They nod to one another as a sign that it is finished now. Once Hamish reaches his friend --
KARL
How'd it go?
HAMISH
Good. It was good. It was perfect.
KARL
Everything you wanted?
HAMISH
Everything.
KARL
So, now...
HAMISH
Now? Now I think I'll take you up on that ride you've been offering.
Karl grins. 
KARL
C'mon. Let's go home.
Hamish slides in through the passenger side. Karl turns the key and the ENGINE ROARS to life. 
INT. Private Jet -- day
Swank. Leather everything -- mixed in with wood grain accents. Karl's glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. His head is buried in the newspaper. He looks past to find --
Hamish seated across from him. Head back. Eyes closed. Finally able to sleep.
Karl keeps a moment's gaze upon him, then looks out the circular cabin windows...
He looks out over the land that Hamish recently trekked across -- it's like Karl is looking out at a secret, something human beings weren't supposed to see -- it's too beautiful.
There are no words to describe how beautiful the world is down there.
Karl glances back to Hamish -- an idea churning behind his eyes.
KARL
Hamish. Hey, wake up. I need to ask you something.
Hamish opens his eyes, confused --
KARL
I need to ask you something.
Hamish 
What?
KARL
You said you saw wolves?
HAMISH
Big ones. 
KARL
Did you kill them?
HAMISH
No. They were my friends. We ate meals together, shared fires. They even kept me warm.
KARL
How is that possible?
HAMISH
I dunno. It just is.
Karl sits back in disbelief --
HAMISH
The world's a lot smarter then we give it credit for. When it gets cold, it leans on one another. We're just not always far enough from the fire to see it. 
And here it is --
KaRL
You know, I have to have this story.
(beat)
You're story.
HAMISH
My story is not finished yet. When it is, we'll talk.
KARL
I'm gonna hold you to that.
HAMISH
I know you will.
Hamish leans his weary head back once again and shuts his sullen eyes. Karl allows him the moment. He just stares at his friend in bewilderment.
EXT. Private landing strip -- day
Back in Scotland.
The jet's wheel SCREECH as they touchdown on the damp blacktop. A light rain has recently tapered off. 
Hamish and Karl climb down the steps and onto the runway. Hamish turns to him --
HaMISH
I'll go on my own from here.
KARL
You're legs can't take this anymore --
HAMISH
-- I need to do this on my own. I'll meet you at the end.
KARL
It's ten or fifteen miles.
HAMISH
(smiles)
I'll consider it a cool down.
KARL
(unsure, but --)
Alright. 
Karl nods -- understood. Hamish turns and takes a deep breath. He creeps forward, one foot at a time, beginning a slow and steady jog through --
The place he loves. Scotland. It's been so long, he's forgotten how beautiful this place really was.
EXT. SCOTTISH COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY
The shallow bay off to the side. Rough forest and tall green grasses. Perfectly placed here. Calm. Lots of stumps, lots of cedar. Hamish runs with a smile on his face and the wind at his back. Each step is closer to home.
Splotches of dirt scattered throughout the clearing. The crickets singing is harmonious -- of all Hamish has seen, this is still the most beautiful place he's ever been.
He moves onward.
Closer to his home, the scenery is decorated by historic waterways and remnants of ageless cultures. The kind of unforgettable place that could make you realize God an the Heavens are right there.
Hamish turns down the long, gravel path which leads to his home. He is stopped short. His eyes capture something unseen to us at the moment. Lights FLASH. 
Hans Zimmer's "Time" plays over Hamish's emotions, leading us bravely, one slow step at a time,  through --
A frenzy. Hundreds of media and droves of PHOTOGRAPHERS. Snapping candid shots of Hamish -- pressing in with questions and pleas for answers. 
Natives have assembled along the path -- there might be a thousand of them. Men, women, children. Some holding signs, others with tears of jubilation. 
Police clear a path for Hamish -- his country home seated at the other end -- the finish line. The ROAR of the masses is deafening. They're showering Hamish with words of affirmation. 
He has become their hope that good still exists -- they're faith -- they're beacon in the darkness. 
Hamish focus's though the crowd. He's looking for something -- his eyes are scanning for someone. Relentless, until his eyes meet --
Aikin. 
Standing just off the front porch -- that familiar look of dim-witted concern and sentiment in his eyes. Hamish runs to him in almost slow motion...
Karl stands at the edge of the drive way. Watching in silence. Watching in approval.
KARL
You did it.
Hamish uses every iota of strength he has left to run towards Aikin. Aikin knifes through the crowd -- inching closer to Hamish. 
Hamish's legs burn, his tendons ache -- his body broken and feeble, but he continues. All his might, every ounce of tenacity, every vim of promise keeps pushing him forward. 
Aikin steps apart from the crowd with an unmistakable look of astonishment. His friend is home. Hamish reaches him, coming to a painful strut by this point.  Just then --
Hamish collapses into Aikin's waiting arms. Aikin whispers to him --
Aikin
It's okay. Everything is okay now --
And with that, in that sincere moment of truth and grace, Hamish finally begins to cry for Tule. The tears flow down his face. Tears of pain -- tears of devotion and joy. Tears it would take a dam to hold back, tears that were needed, tears that had finally been granted the right to fall. It feels like coming up for air. It feels like being born again...
AiKIN
She knows. She knows now. She knows...
Aikin holds Hamish up. REPORTERS begin to close in. Before they converge upon them, Aikin escorts Hamish up the porch steps and into the house -- the screen door SHUTS behind them...
Marc Streitenfeld's "Memorial."

THE END