The first 30 pages of my screenplay for BLADE RUNNER II.


2. the grave


I have to bury my dad. Before anything else.


He was a good man, Rick Deckard. A simple man. Altruistic and sweet.


A replicant. Like my mother. Like me.

Maybe I have his soul. Do replicants have souls?

Do androids dream of electric sheep? I know I'll dream of him.

I still dream of my mother and I wake tasting the salt in my tears.

I remember. I will never forget. I will avenge you. These are human vows.

I will do what I promised. What is right and good. I will go to Earth now and bring the diary to Kara and help the Rebellion.

But first, digging the Martian earth with an old, battered shovel.


It's hot work. I dig the red Martian sand, driving the shovel blade in with my foot.


Tossing it behind me.


It takes half the morning. I'm trembling and sweat flies from my hair when I shake my head.


I go into the bar and glug water. I wipe my mouth and drink again. Deep.

I'm dirty. And thirsty.

My arms are shaking.

I drag my father out on a sheet of plastic I found in one of the sheds.

I don't wrap his body in it. I roll him into the grave.

Then I go back for Gaff.

I'll bury them together.

They were friends. Right?


Blade Runners.


I take the diary out of his pocket before rolling him in and put it into mine.


I go back into the bar and stand there. It's dim. I look at the carnage.

Flies, buzzing in a dusty sunray. The three Nexus assassins. Double ZZ's.

Gaff and my dad killed two. I killed one with the axe. None of us should still be alive. But here I am.


I get my dad's shotgun and a handful of the shells.

Take them out into the glaring sunlight.

Toss them into the grave.

Then I go to work: filling it up with red sand.


By the time I'm done, Earth has risen.

It's halfway across the sky already.

Planet Earth. It isn't blue and white anymore. It's reddish grey. From the Black Drizzle, the smog that falls as a bitter and hellish dark acid rain on the cites.

My dad told me. People scamper around the streets and alleys in rain gear. They carry umbrellas with glowing handles.


It's late afternoon. There's still work to do.

I get my horse from the stable and ride out into the desert.

The dry air is sweet. It smells of the sagebrush the settlers planted, that's spread all over these red hills.


I stop of a mesa and look back at the town. I can see people going about their business.

Soon the cooks and the waitresses and bartender will show up at Rick's Cafe.

I've got to get out before that. I need time. I cry hyaa! and kick at the horse's ribs and she wings me back.

It feels like that, like I'm flying. The cold wind tears at my clothes and hair.

I realize I'm crying. Tears are flying from my cheeks as we gallop.

I bend low and kick and we go faster, harder, thudding over the sand. Leaping clumps of brush.


I dismount in front of the cafe, near Gaff's hovercar.

I lead my horse to the stable. I give her water. I brush the sweat from her coat. I pour grain into her feeder.

This is the last time I'll see this horse. I know it, and I'm weeping again.

I write a note and pin it to the stable. It asks whoever reads it to deliver this horse to Lin Ang, the Chinese girl I go riding with sometimes.

Then I head to my room. I get my leather coat. I take a last look at my books. Movie posters. The telescope. Useless now.

I go to the rear office of Rick's and stand at the safe.

My dad told me the combination. It's my mother's birthday, plus mine. I could dial it with my eyes shut.

The lock clunks open. I swing back the heavy steel door. Inside, there's cash and lots of it. A money belt with gold pieces in it. A little black velvet pouch full of diamonds.

I strap on the belt, zip the diamonds into an inside pocket, stick the cash in along with Kara's diary.


It's almost dark. I feel bad about the bloody mess in the cafe, but I can't do anything about that shit right now.

I write a note and leave it on the bar, asking Chang (the head cook, from Soochow) to call the police about the corpses then clean up and re-open when he can. And to please take over running Rick's Cafe until I get back.

I know he'll do his best. I sign with my Chinese name.


I take Gaff's sword cane from beside the door. Near the headless assassin.

When I pull it out to check the blade, there's still some blood on it.

I clean it as well as I can, clumsily, with a bar napkin.


I'll take it with me to Earth, if I can get it aboard a shuttle.


I get into the hovercar.

It takes me a few minutes, playing with the controls.

Then there's an electronic hum and the jets come on with a roar.

The car tilts and wobbles a little as it rises.

Sweating, dizzy with fear and hope --

the car shoots off like a rocket when I let out the clutch.


I'm headed for the darkening horizon. Soon it will be speckled with lights. Mars City.



Earth, here I come.

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