THE RUNNER SCREENPLAY by BRIAN R. LUNDIN (ebook reader below 3000 .txt) 📕

INT. MISSISSIPPI RIVER BOAT-EVENING 1893

Finely dressed men and women gathered on the deck of the MISSISIPPI FLYER listening to a well dress white man wearing a bowler hat.

MAN
Good evening ladies and gentlemen my name is PATSY KING and for a single dollar you can win ten. Anyone who wants to play put your dollar in the jar, try your luck.

The men and women gathered their bills and placed them in a large pickle jar on a table.

PATSY
On the table are slips of paper take one and write any three numbers from one to seventy-eight and hold on to your paper.

The people did as directed and Patsy took off his hat and removed seventy-eight little numbered balls from a sack and placed them into the hat glanced at the jar and quickly estimated it contained at lease fifty dollars. He shook the hat vigorously and held it out to an older woman.

PATSY
Here we go good luck. Ma’ am will you pull the first number please.

The woman pulled one of the balls.

PATSY
What is the number?

WOMAN
Three!

PATSY
Thank you and will you hold the ball up so everyone can see it.

The woman did as directed and Patsy selected a young man to pull another number.

YOUNG MAN
Two!

PATSY
Thank you and will you hold the ball up so everyone can see it. Now can I have a volunteer to pull the last number?

A very attractive young woman came forward and pulled the number.

WOMAN
Fifty-five!
There was a collective sigh no one’s numbers had been drawn. Patsy continued the game during the three day journey on the riverboat. When the boat docked in New Orleans he had collected over five hundred dollars. Sam Young one of the black porters on the boat watched and learned Patsy’s game and with the financial backing of King, Young moved his game to the south side of Chicago which at the time had a growing black population.


The wind blowing from Canada briskly made it way south across the state of Michigan towards Chicago, after picking up the cold waters off Lake Michigan it blustered west down 47th Street, causing the last minute shoppers to shiver. The cold wind tumbled discarded paper and dead leaves along the sidewalk as the streetlights cast an orange glow with no warmth in it. Two days before Christmas 1969 A black Santa Claus with a false white beard and dressed in the typical Santa Claus costume stood at 47th South Parkway in front of South Center Department Store brightly lit Christmas decorated window, loudly clinking his bell and stamping his feet to keep warm. A Salvation Army volunteer was also stamping his feet and calling cheery greetings to the fast walking shoppers. A sleek black 1961 Lincoln limousine driven by Ted Bunche pulled to a stop in front of 4344 South Prairie Avenue the frozen snow crunching beneath its tires.

INT. LINCOLN LIMOUSINE - NIGHT

JEROME MCLEMORE his wife JOAN and EDWINNA JOHNSON, one of Jerome’s employees sits in the back seat and TED BUNCHE IS DRIVING. Edwinna said her goodnights and walked to her building.


EXT. 4344 SOUTH PRAIRIE AVENUE- NIGHT

Edwina unlocked and opened the vestibule door of her apartment building and enters they were about to drive off a black Cadillac pulled in front and another black Cadillac pulled in the rear. Suddenly, two men wearing ski masks and armed with a “lupara,” or sawed off shotgun jumped out of each car. Gunman #1 and #2 pointed the weapon at Ted’s window and ordered him to lower it, Ted complied. Gunmen #3 and #4 pointed their shotguns at Jerome and Joan and ordered them out the car.

JOAN
Screams

GUNMAN #3
(angrily in a heavy Italian accent)
Shut up you black bitch or I will blow your fuckin’ head off!

Gunman#3 Slaps Joan knocking her to the ground and causing her mouth to bleed. Ted Pushed opened the driver’s door and slammed it into the Gunman #1 groin and he let out a cry of pain as he felt himself slipping on the icy street. Ted jumps out the car and hit him hard in the face. Gunman #2 strikes Ted in the head with the butt of the shotgun the blow knocked Ted to the ground but he retained consciousness.

JOAN
Screams again.

GUNMAN #2
Shut the fuck up!

JEROME
(helping her and ted to their feet)
Its ok, Joan, do as they say.

GUNMAN #4
(placing the shotgun against Jerome’s head)
Get into the car you black muthafucker!

GUNMAN #1 (O.S)
Groans and holds his crotch, as the other gunmen helped into one of the cars

GUNMAN #1
You’re a dead man nigger

Two burly gunmen grabbed Jerome arms while another searched him and threw him into the rear seat of one of the cars and wedged him between two big men. One of the men slammed the door shut and they sped southbound on Prairie Avenue with the other two gunmen close behind.

JOAN
Screaming

Joan screams awakened the neighborhood and people were coming outside with baseball bats and guns.

JOAN
They kidnapped my husband!

We see a green Plymouth with two black men pulled alone side the limo and they identified themselves as police officers. Ted told them what just happened and pointed to the cars speeding south on the dark street. The police immediately took up the chase. From the trailing car, the gunmen fired at the plainclothes police officers, the officers returned the fire and announced a “10-1,” a police code that meant an officer needs help, over their police radio. In the confusion and darkness, the officers did not see the lead car with Jerome make a right turn and head west at 49th Street. Other police cars responding to the call finally stopped the car, which fired the shots, at 52nd South Prairie Avenue and two Italian men surrendered peacefully to the police. Shortly, Ted and Joan arrived at the scene, Joan irate, jumped out of her car, ran over to the two Italian men being searched by the police officers, and smacked one across the face.

JOAN (shouting)
Where is my husband?

MAN
Fuck you, black bitch!

We see Ted knock him to ground. The police officers quickly restrained Ted and Joan and hustled the men into the police squadrol or wagon. A search of the suspect’s vehicle revealed two shotguns and each man had an automatic pistol in his waistband, but no Jerome McLemore. In the 2nd Police District Watch Commander’s office, the two men produced permits for the guns and private detective identification cards.

MAN
We didn’t know the cars following us were police officers we thought they were some niggers trying to rob us we don’t know anything about a jig’s kidnapping.

. WATCH COMMANDER
I’m Captain Turnbo are these the men that kidnapped your husband?

JOAN
I’m not sure.

WATCH COMMANDER
I’m sorry but I have to release these men.

The vehicle speeding south on State Street, someone had tied Jerome’s hands behind his back with nylon rope and place a black cloth over his eyes. He could smell the pungent odor of garlic and cigar smoke from the two men he was wedged between; they must have been large men because he did not have any room to move. It was a bumpy ride, which caused him to lean on one man or the other and they immediately elbowed him in the ribs and pushed him back and forth. The two men beside him spoke mainly Italian and sometimes broken English. One man would say something and the others would laugh, probably a “Nigger joke,” Jerome thought as he heard other voices coming from the front seat of the car; their English was a little better.

MAN
Look at the hot shot nigger now! We should bust a cap in his black ass and fuck the money.

MAN
(in front seat in a commanding voice)
Leave him be!

JEROME
(defiantly)
What in the fuck do you want?

VOICE FROM THE FRONT
Shut-up nigger!

The Italian man to Jerome’s right removed a syringe from a wooden box and skillfully filled it with a white liquid. The man to Jerome’s left roughly pulled Jerome’s wrist tightly towards him while the other man jabbed the needle into Jerome’s upper arm. Jerome felt a slight prick as the liquid flowed into his veins. Jerome’s body jerked, stiffened, and then relaxed as the drug entered his body. His breathing slowed; his head began to spin in circles and then he was unconscious. Jerome McLemore snored heavily as the car turned onto the I-94, Dan Ryan Highway and headed east.

EXT. WAREHOUSE-NIGHT

After a forty-five minute ride the car turned onto an unpaved dirt road, slowed down and stopped at an abandon warehouse on Smith Street in Gary, Indiana. The horn sounded twice and the large steel overhead door slowly began to rise. The car moved forward and stopped again. Jerome was still unconscious as the men pulled him out the car and someone threw cold water in his face waking him up.

INT: WAREHOUSE ROOM –NIGHT

Jerome looked around the room. It had a high ceiling that had rows of sputtering fluorescent lights some on some off that threw faint shadows in the windowless damp and dingy dull grey walls room. Cardboard boxes were piled in one corner and an empty vending machine sat in another and two old cars in the middle of the room set on their rims. Up a flight of wooden stairs Jerome noticed an office glassed in on two sides.

We see Jerome slipping on the wet floor as four men half carried, half dragged him up mildewed stairs and into the warehouse, stripped him to his underwear and placed him upright in a hard-backed steel chair, tying his arms behind him, a door opened and men entered.


COMMANDING VOICE HEARD IN THE CAR
Good evening Mr. McLemore If everything goes alright, you will be back home with your lovely wife in time for dinner tomorrow.

JEROME
Who are you and what do you want?

COMMANDING VOICE
You will know soon enough.

We see sweat flowing from Jerome forehead and his eyes closed.

COMMANDING VOICE
Are you ok, Mr. McLemore?

JEROME
I’m having a migraine and the ropes and blindfold are too tight.

COMMANDING VOICE
If you give me your word you won’t try anything stupid I will take off the blindfold and loosed the ropes, ok?

JEROME
You have my word.

The man said something in Italian and the ropes loosened and the blindfold removed.

JEROME
I have some pills in my pants pocket for the migraine, could you please give me two of them?

We see the man searched Jerome’s pockets for the bottle of pills; The man put two pills on Jerome’s tongue and ordered one of the men to get a glass of water, in a few minutes the man returned with the water.