"In writing fiction, the more fantastic the tale, the plainer the prose should be. Don't ask your readers to admire your words when you want them to believe your story." - Ben Bova [ more quotes ]

"THE FUGITIVE"

Episode 101

"FEAR IN A DESERT CITY"

Written by

Stanford Whitmore

1963



EXT. BUS - TUCSON, AZ - DAY

FADE IN on a bus coasting through the city. Just another
Friday afternoon in downtown Tucson. Kids play on a gazebo
in a park. A sidewalk vendor sells tacos and tamales.

CUT TO:

EXT. REAR OF THE BUS TERMINAL - DAY

The bus, a huge Greyhound with multiple license plates, pulls
up outside the terminal and brakes to a halt. The door opens
and the passengers disembark. We see them from the waist
down: a stocky man; an Air Force officer; a couple of women
with shapely legs wearing high heels; and a man carrying a
large suitcase.

The man with the suitcase is DR. RICHARD KIMBLE, a handsome,
black-haired man in his mid-thirties. He scans the area
watchfully. The deep, biting voice of an omniscient NARRATOR
sets the scene as Kimble and the other passengers leave the
bus and enter the terminal building.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Now six months a fugitive, this is
Richard Kimble with a new identity,
and for as long as it is safe, a new
name: James Lincoln. He thinks of
the day when he might find the man
with one arm, but now is now. And
this is how it is with him...

Kimble enters the terminal through a door marked TUCSON.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - DAY

A tense Kimble walks stiffly through the crowded terminal,
trying to maintain his composure. He's still learning the
ropes of how to be a fugitive and we see it all through his
understandably paranoid eyes.

KIMBLE'S POV: a couple of Air Force officers walk past, one
of whom seems to glance at him; a lanky man in a cowboy hat
who seems to make eye contact and then looks down; a couple
of uniformed Air Force policemen; The Narrator seems to echo
Kimble's thoughts.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Another journey, another place. Walk
neither too fast, nor too slow. Beware
the eyes of strangers. Keep moving.

Kimble keeps moving toward the exit.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. HOTEL - DAY

Minutes later. A neon sign reads HOTEL ENTRANCE. We PAN DOWN
from it to find Kimble, suitcase still in hand, approaching.
He sees the sign and enters the hotel lobby, pausing ever so
slightly at the door.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
The right one? Or will it be a
mistake? Is this the trap where it
will end?

Through the hotel's front window, we see Kimble walk through
the lobby. He approaches the front desk, asks for a room,
buys a couple of newspapers, and signs the registry.

CUT TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY

A moment later. Kimble enters his room, (number 26), shuts
the door behind him and locks it. A wave of relief washes
over his face as he looks at his cheap, tiny quarters.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Safe. For now.

Kimble tosses his keys on a mirrored dresser and puts his
suitcase on the bed.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Another room.

Kimble sees the window shade is up. He crosses to it.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Windows look out -- and look in.

Kimble stares out the window for a moment before pulling
down the shade.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Get busy.

After turning on a bedside lamp, Kimble strips off his jacket,
digs his toilet kit out of the suitcase, and heads for the
bathroom. He SNAPS on the light, approaches the sink, and
starts to unzip his toilet kit when he stops to regard himself
in the tiny mirror on the door of the medicine cabinet. He
puts a hand to his temple, examining his hair.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Look closely. Be sure of this: they'll
never stop looking. He'll never stop.
Not Lieutenant Gerard...

Kimble takes a bottle of BLACK HAIR DYE and a dye-stained
toothbrush from his toilet kit and places them on the sink.
He turns on the hot water.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. DETECTIVE'S OFFICE - STAFFORD, IN - DAY

LIEUTENANT PHILIP GERARD, Indiana's finest police officer,
stares intently at a transparent Plexiglass map of the United
States. Gerard has marked up the glass with grease pencil:
several states in the western U.S. are circled with an X in
the middle of Wyoming.

GERARD
Somewhere in here, I'm sure of it.

Behind Gerard, seated at a desk, is his boss: CAPTAIN
CARPENTER, a huge bear of a man. Carpenter rises and eats a
snack as he confronts Gerard at the map.

CAPT. CARPENTER
What about Mexico? He's near enough.

GERARD
(shakes his head)
No. He'd be "the Yankee" -- someone
different.

CAPT. CARPENTER
Gerard, when are you due for a
vacation?

GERARD
(grins)
I'm not taking my vacation, Captain.
Later. I will later.

Gerard leaves the map and picks up a trio of file folders
from a nearby desk.

GERARD
East. South. Midwest. Every report
verified.

Gerard fishes his eyeglasses out of his pocket and puts them
on to read through a report. Carpenter sits at another desk.

CAPT. CARPENTER
By the time you arrive...

GERARD
One day, he'll be there.

CAPT. CARPENTER
Phil. From the very beginning... the
arrest, all through the trial, the
appeals -- and the accident -- why?
What is it about Kimble?

GERARD
(as if it were obvious)
I enforce the law. The law pronounced
him guilty. I enforce the law.

CAPT. CARPENTER
What are you trying to convince
yourself of? I remember his defense:
man with one arm running from the
direction of the house.

Gerard blinks through his thick-framed eyeglasses.

CAPT. CARPENTER
Phil, I'm beginning to think you
believe there was such a man.

GERARD
(genuinely)
No. I-I did everything I could to
find him.

CAPT. CARPENTER
Meaning that he didn't exist? Or
that he escaped?

Gerard lowers his head.

CAPT. CARPENTER
And if he did escape, the law made a
mistake.

GERARD
Captain, whether the law is right or
wrong is not my concern. Let others
debate and conclude.
(imperceptibly shrugs)
I obey. And when I begin to question,
doubt...

Gerard tosses down the file folders, removes and pockets his
glasses, and returns to the map.

GERARD
I can't permit it. Others found him
guilty. Others were about to execute
him. I was merely an instrument of
the law. And am.
(beat)
And Dr. Kimble must be found.

Gerard stares at the large glass map, pondering the good
doctor's whereabouts.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - TUCSON, AZ - DAY

Kimble stares into the large mirror over the dresser, checking
his black hair.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Ready? A job. What will it be?

Kimble, newspapers in hand, sits on the bed. He skips past
the front sections of the paper and goes straight to the
CLASSIFIED AD SECTION.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Make no mistakes. Be ready for the
questions and hope there won't be
too many.

Kimble runs his finger down a column of ads until he finds
one that reads:

BARTENDER -- Work nights.
"The Branding Iron", 109 So.
Scott St.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT

A saloon with a western theme. Old-fashioned lanterns hang
from the ceiling. Not very crowded for a Friday night. A
stocky man in a cowboy hat -- we'll call him the COWBOY for
now -- sits at the bar, nursing a drink. To lend the joint a
little class, an attractive woman named MONICA WELLES plays
the piano on a raised stage behind the bar. The boss is CLEVE
BROWN, an affable man in a bartender's vest decorated with
the Branding Iron logo. Kimble sits at one end of the bar.
Cleve Brown gets behind the bar to confer with him.

CLEVE
(to Kimble)
You fast, Lincoln?

KIMBLE
I worked in Reno.

CLEVE
Well, you won't have to be fast
tonight. But tomorrow is Saturday.
Bring your roller skates.

Kimble smiles -- he's got the job. Cleve comes out from behind
the bar.

CLEVE
Take over. It's all yours.

Cleve and Kimble trade places.

CLEVE
Seventy-five a week. You'll find a
vest at the other end of the bar. Is
it, er, Jim?

Kimble has to think for a moment -- is it Jim?

KIMBLE
Yeah, Jim's fine.

Kimble offers to shake hands but Cleve declines.

CLEVE
Cleve Brown. But we won't shake hands
because I might fire you tomorrow.
The waitress is Evelyn, the lady at
the piano is Monica. Introduce
yourself.

Cleve ambles off. Kimble walks the length of the bar, past
the Cowboy, and finds his vest. He sheds his jacket and tie.
Both Monica, at the piano, and the blonde waitress, EVELYN,
serving drinks at a nearby table, watch Kimble put a big
black western string tie around his neck. Evelyn joins Kimble
at the bar as he puts on his vest.

EVELYN
Hi! I'm Evelyn.

KIMBLE
(as if reminding
himself)
My name is Jim Lincoln.

Kimble turns to check out the liquor, pausing to talk to
Monica on the stage behind him.

KIMBLE
The boss said to say hello. My name's
Jim Lincoln.

Monica doesn't respond. But the Cowboy at the bar does.

COWBOY
(friendly, to Kimble)
Her name's Monica. Monica Welles.

Kimble turns to the grinning Cowboy who fingers a silver
dollar.

COWBOY
(very friendly)
Plays beautifully, doesn't she?

KIMBLE
(nods)
Mm hmm.

Kimble tries to familiarize himself with the bar.

COWBOY
(too friendly)
Lovely, too, wouldn't you say?
Wouldn't you say she was lovely?

KIMBLE
(amused)
Very.

COWBOY
Well, how can you tell? You just
glanced at her. You gotta look at
her, Jim.
(beat)
Hey, Jim. Scotch and soda.

Kimble starts mixing the drink -- expertly, of course.

COWBOY
(off Monica)
Give her one, too.

Kimble turns to Monica who coolly shakes her head at him and
keeps playing.

KIMBLE
(to the Cowboy)
She isn't drinking.

COWBOY
Maybe she would if you bought it,
huh? I'll pay for it.

Cowboy puts a stack of silver dollars on the bar. He flicks
one of them into Kimble's chest. It CLINKS loudly on the
countertop. An increasingly annoyed Kimble hands the Cowboy
his scotch and soda.

KIMBLE
She doesn't want a drink.

COWBOY
You have one.

KIMBLE
Make it a rule never to, uh, drink
when I'm working.

COWBOY
That's a real dandy rule. You make
that up all by yourself?

CLEVE (O.S.)
Jim.

Kimble turns from the Cowboy to join Cleve at the far end of
the bar.

CLEVE
(to Kimble)
'Bout now I usually have a so-called
meal from our so-called kitchen. You
want something?

KIMBLE
No, thanks.
(off the Cowboy)
You know that fella back there?

CLEVE
No. Why?

KIMBLE
He's working pretty hard to make
trouble.

CLEVE
(grins)
Jim, for the price of a drink, he
can buy an audience. On Monday
morning, he'll have to face whatever's
bothering him. But this is Friday
night.

Cleve gives Kimble a friendly whack on the arm and walks off
to eat his so-called meal. Kimble, shaking his head in
disbelief and trying to suppress a smile, returns to his
work.

COWBOY
(to Kimble)
Hey, what were you saying to him
about me?

KIMBLE
(affably)
What makes you think I was talkin'
about you?

COWBOY
(suddenly grim)
I don't like you, Jim. You wanna
remember that? I don't like you at
all.

A worried Monica's eyes go from the Cowboy to Kimble. The
Cowboy SLAMS a dime down onto the bar, picks up his silver
dollars, grins, rises, and waves a finger at Monica.

COWBOY
See ya again, sweetheart.

Monica doesn't respond. The Cowboy can barely take his eyes
off her as he heads out the door. A relieved Monica finishes
the tune she's been playing.

MONICA
(whispers, to Kimble)
May I please have a drink? Anything.

Kimble registers mild surprise at this as Monica climbs down
from the stage and grabs a stool at the bar. He pours a drink
for her.

MONICA
Thank you.

Monica drinks.

KIMBLE
Do you know that fella?

Monica says nothing.

KIMBLE
You tell me if it's none of my
business. You know, sometimes these,
uh, worshipers --

MONICA
(sharply)
He does not worship me!
(more friendly)
Thanks for trying to help.

KIMBLE
Meaning it's none of my business?

MONICA
Meaning it isn't fair to involve
you.

EVELYN (O.S.)
One bourbon on the rocks!

Kimble crosses to Evelyn at the far end of the bar and starts
to fix the drink. Kimble stops when he catches sight of
Monica. Both Kimble and Evelyn watch with concern as Monica
breaks down and weeps.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BRANDING IRON CLOCK - NIGHT

Later that evening. The clock reads twelve forty-six.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT

Not long after. Over the front door is the Branding Iron's
neon light. It flickers and goes out just as Kimble emerges
from the building (the Hotel Santa Rita) wearing his civilian
clothes. He turns up his collar at the chilly desert wind
and starts walking home. But he doesn't get very far.

MONICA (O.S.)
No! Please!

Kimble sees the Cowboy attacking Monica in the nearby parking
lot. She tries to break away from the Cowboy but he grabs
her, pulls her back, and presses her against a parked car.

MONICA
No! Stop! Stop! Please! Please!

Kimble wonders whether or not he should he get involved. The
Cowboy hauls back and starts SLAPPING Monica hard across the
face.

Now, Kimble feels he has no choice. He rushes to her rescue:
runs over; pulls the Cowboy off her; punches him in the mouth.
Cowboy goes down hard. Terrified and hurt, Monica leans
against the car for support.

Cowboy, down on one knee, raises his head to reveal a wickedly
bleeding lip.

He glares at Kimble. Kimble stands by nervously -- what's
the Cowboy's next move? Cowboy puts a hand to his lip to
feel the blood. Kimble's ready for the worst. But the Cowboy
jumps up and heads off in the opposite direction.

Fight's over.

While Kimble comforts Monica, the Cowboy gets into a fancy
parked car, pops on the lights, STARTS the engine, and guns
past Kimble and Monica, nearly running them down.

Kimble watches as the car disappears.

MONICA
Please... no police.

Kimble's actually rather relieved to hear this.

KIMBLE
Have you got a car?

Monica shakes her head.

KIMBLE
Come on, we'll get a cab.

MONICA
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't
mean to involve you.

Kimble helps Monica back to the hotel.

FADE OUT

EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

FADE IN a few minutes later as a Tanner Yellow Cab pulls up
in front of the El Capitan Apartments. Kimble and Monica
emerge from the cab. Kimble pays the fare and escorts Monica
up the steps.

CUT TO:

INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Monica and Kimble enter, waking the middle-aged babysitter,
MRS. BLAINE, who lies on the sofa in what passes for a living
room.

MONICA
Is everything all right, Mrs. Blaine?

MRS. BLAINE
Oh. Oh, yes. He's fine.

MONICA
Good.

Monica starts fishing some money out of her purse. But Mrs.
Blaine is already on her way out the door.

MRS. BLAINE
That's all right. I'll get my money
tomorrow.

Mrs. Blaine sees the nasty bruise on Monica's cheek.

MRS. BLAINE
(startled)
Oh. Well. Good night.

MONICA
Good night.

Mrs. Blaine exits, leaving Monica and Kimble alone and feeling
uncomfortable.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

A few minutes later. Monica and Kimble sit on the sofa and
drink coffee.

MONICA
When I asked you not to call the
police, I had a very good reason.
That man is my husband.

Kimble registers surprise.

MONICA
Want to leave now? Or stick around
and hear the story of my life?

Kimble wants to stick around. He gives Monica a cigarette.

KIMBLE
Here.

MONICA
We live in Phoenix.
(corrects herself)
We... lived in Phoenix.

Kimble lights Monica's cigarette.

MONICA
About a month ago, I, uh, couldn't
stand it any longer, so I took Mark
and came here and got a job. Doing
the only thing I've really ever been
trained for. Playing piano.

KIMBLE
But not in a bar.
(beat)
Well, what was it you couldn't stand?

MONICA
His suspicions. I, uh, I wouldn't
mind it if he had a reason to be
jealous but he was simply insanely
suspicious.
(rises)
When we were married, I was, uh,
considered the luckiest girl in
Phoenix.
(pours herself some
coffee)
Ed was almost the -- his name is Ed --
almost the perfect husband. He was a
little jealous then. But I-I was
eighteen. I was flattered by it.
Month after he left for Korea, I
found out I was pregnant. So happy,
I ran three blocks in the rain to
mail the letter. When he wrote back,
there was just a hint of an
accusation. But I answered, pretending
not to notice and he never wrote
that way again. He came home. Day by
day, he began to grow more and more
suspicious. Violent. His face changed.
He doesn't look like the man I
married.

KIMBLE
And he won't let you go?

MONICA
No. After a month of peace, he found
me. He walked into the bar and he
had a drink and left, without saying
a word.

KIMBLE
What does he want?

MONICA
To possess me. To beat me. And to
teach my son how evil I am.

KIMBLE
And you can't go to the police?

MONICA
I tried that. He found out and found
it very amusing. You see, he owns
two hundred and fifty thousand acres
of Arizona. He contributes to charity
and belongs to all the proper social
organizations...

Unnoticed by Kimble and Monica, Monica's young son MARK enters
silently, wearing a robe, listening to the conversation about
his father.

MONICA
...He has even been mentioned as a
possible political candidate. When
he's not home, he's almost the perfect
man.

KIMBLE
Well, don't you have any friends or
family in another state? Back east?

MONICA
He'd find us.

Monica suddenly notices her son's presence.

MONICA
Mark! What are you doing out of bed?

MARK
(to Monica)
I heard you talking.

Mark stares at Kimble.

MONICA
Well, this is, uh, Mr. Lincoln.
(to Kimble)
My son, Mark.

KIMBLE
(to Mark)
My name's Jim.

Kimble smiles and offers to shake hands but Mark makes no
move.

MONICA
(to Mark)
Uh, you know, you, uh, should be in
bed. We have a big day tomorrow.
Come on, honey. Go up to bed.

Monica leads Mark back to his bedroom as Kimble, hands in
his pockets, paces the room, wondering what to do. After a
moment, Monica returns.

MONICA
I'm sorry he wasn't a little more
friendly.

KIMBLE
Well, that's... I think he did fine
under the circumstances. Now, look,
uh, Monica. I don't know what I can
do --

MONICA
No, no, it's, uh, enough just to
talk to you.

KIMBLE
Well, then, maybe I could see you
tomorrow.

MONICA
On Saturdays, I usually take Mark to
Wonderland. Helps him think of other
things.

KIMBLE
Well, we'll make it noon at
Wonderland. Maybe we can all think
of other things.
(beat)
I'll see you tomorrow.

MONICA
Good night.

Monica watches Kimble exit. For the first time, there is a
glimmer of hope in her eyes.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL - NIGHT

Not long after. An angry fist KNOCKS on the door of room 26.
It's the Cowboy, EDWARD WELLES. He scratches his neck like
an animal and KNOCKS again.

KIMBLE (O.S.)
Who is it?

ED WELLES
Ed Welles.

CUT TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

An uncertain Kimble unlocks the door and opens it, allowing
Evil Ed Welles to enter. Kimble just stands there with his
hands in his pockets while Ed checks out the room.

ED WELLES
Now, I'm not gonna talk about you
hittin' me.

KIMBLE
Then I won't talk about you hitting
a woman.

ED WELLES
She's my wife.

KIMBLE
And that gives you certain rights?

ED WELLES
(laughs)
You travel pretty light, don't you?
Come into town and get yourself a
little room, grab a job. Thinkin'
'bout staying long?

KIMBLE
I'd like to.

ED WELLES
So you can make more trouble.

KIMBLE
I didn't make it. I walked into it.

ED WELLES
You walked into me, bartender.

Ed puts a lot of emphasis on that word "bartender."

KIMBLE
Yeah, I've already heard how important
you are.

Ed reaches into his jacket and pulls out a revolver. Kimble's
eyes go wide.

ED WELLES
(off the gun)
I had that custom made for me. Every
bit of it. Hand made. You look at
it. Go on, take it. Look at that
workmanship on it.

Kimble takes it -- reluctantly.

ED WELLES
It's loaded. I have to carry a lot
of money sometimes. More than it's
safe, you know?

Ed takes the revolver back.

ED WELLES
Now, it's not going to do you a bit
of good trying to help her because
Monica can go anywhere in this
world...

Ed re-holsters his gun.

ED WELLES
She can go anywhere. And I'm gonna
find her. Sooner or later, I'll be
there. See?

KIMBLE
For another beating?

ED WELLES
(shakes his head)
Not as long as she behaves herself.
You know what I mean.

KIMBLE
Welles, stop torturing that woman
and child. Get yourself some help.
See a psychiatrist.

Evil Ed winces and starts to freak out. He talks through
clenched teeth, moving ominously toward Kimble.

ED WELLES
You just said the wrong thing. Said
exactly the wrong thing. And you
said it and I heard it and there's
nothing left for you to do but get
out of my sight, see? About a million
miles out.

Ed abruptly turns and walks slowly out of the room and down
the hall. An angry and frustrated Kimble SLAMS the door shut.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. WONDERLAND - DAY

Saturday afternoon. An outdoor carnival: rides, games, circus
clowns, you name it. Kimble and Monica's son Mark ride the
merry-go-round. The ride stops and a bored Mark exchanges
glances with Kimble. Kimble offers to help Mark down off his
horse but Mark hops off on his own. The two of them step off
the merry-go-round and walk together.

KIMBLE
I'm, er, not very good at picking
rides. I, uh, guess that was kids'
stuff to you, huh?

MARK
It was all right.

KIMBLE
I'm probably pretty square about
what kids like these days. Uh, what
do we do now? Another ride? Something
to eat?

MARK
Look, Mr. Lincoln, I know you want
to talk to my mom. I'd like to go
over to the batter up game.

KIMBLE
All right, we'll meet you there.

Mark takes off. Lost in thought, Kimble walks through the
crowded Wonderland, past a balloon salesman, a clown
entertaining a group of party-hatted children at a picnic
table (must be someone's birthday), a small Ferris wheel,
etc., until he finds Monica on a bench. Kimble sits with
her.

KIMBLE
Your son went over to the batter up
game. I hope that's all right.

MONICA
That's fine.

KIMBLE
You know, I used to think I was pretty
good with children. I don't seem to
be getting anywhere with him.

MONICA
It isn't your fault. He's afraid
every man might be like his father.
Sometimes I think he sensed the truth
about Ed before I did.

KIMBLE
His father paid me a visit last night.
He must have followed us, and then
waited, and then followed me to my
hotel. The sum and substance of our
meeting: uh, he threatened me if I
didn't leave town. So here I am.

MONICA
Oh, Jim, this is going too far. You --

KIMBLE
All we have to do is find an answer.
I've been trying.

MONICA
(realizes something)
He threatened you.

KIMBLE
Under the pretext of showing off his
custom made revolver.

MONICA
Yes. He showed it to me. If he
threatened you, why don't you go to
the police?

Kimble pauses and looks away. Should he tell her why? He
silently watches a clown leading a group of children past a
boat ride -- normal people leading normal lives. Monica senses
something's wrong.

MONICA
Jim, what is it?

KIMBLE
I can't go to the police. If you ask
me, I can't tell you why.

MONICA
I'm in no position to ask anything
of you. Except your help.

KIMBLE
Let's go get your son.

They rise and walk over to the batter up game. Mark, baseball
bat in hand, swings and HITS a series of balls tossed by an
automatic pitching machine. Mild applause and cheers from
onlookers. Kimble and a proud Monica watch.

After the last hit, Mark grips the bat with satisfaction,
drops it, and runs to the BATTER UP GUY to accept a prize.

BATTER UP GUY
Well, you really belted that one,
son. Here ya are.

The Batter Up Guy hands Mark a goofy-looking doll of a
ballplayer with a big bobbing head. Mark takes it and stares
at it proudly. Kimble and Monica stand nearby.

MONICA
(to Mark)
What a marvelous strike that was!

MARK
(joins Kimble and
Monica)
Mom! Strike is when ya miss!

KIMBLE
(ironic)
Yeah, Mom! What's the matter with
ya?
(to Mark)
What do you play, Mark? The infield?

MARK
Second.

KIMBLE
You know, I used to play a little
ball. Ya know how good I was? My
sister pitched. Remember one game, a
man came up and he said, What's the
score? I said, it's twenty-two to
nothing but we ain't been up to bat
yet.

Kimble and Monica laugh. But Mark takes the story seriously
and offers his doll to Kimble.

MARK
Here.

KIMBLE
Well, that's yours, Mark. You-you
won it.

MARK
(shakes his head)
Kids' stuff.

Touched that the boy has reached out to someone, Kimble
accepts the doll. He and Mark exchange uncertain smiles.

MONICA
(to Kimble)
What do we do now?

KIMBLE
Well, what I can do and what I'd
like to do are two different things
so I guess we'll just have to wait.
I don't know what for or how long
but we wait.

MARK
What are you talkin' about?

KIMBLE
(ironic, to Mark)
Kids' stuff!
(upbeat, to all)
Come on, let's get a hot dog.

Kimble, Monica and Mark head off through the crowds, past
pony riders and a HONKING tram ride -- not suspecting that,
just a few yards behind, Evil Ed Welles stalks them, scowling
grimly.

FADE OUT

EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT

FADE IN on customers at the front door.

CUT TO:

INT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT

It's Saturday night and the joint is hoppin'. Cleve Brown
and Evelyn work the tables. Monica's at the piano. Kimble's
behind the bar. Evelyn approaches the bar and sees Monica
staring sympathetically at Kimble. Kimble looks up and
exchanges looks with Monica before loading Evelyn's tray
with drinks. As Evelyn disappears into the noisy crowd, Evil
Ed emerges, a cigarette in his mouth. He squints at Monica.
Both Kimble and Monica spot him as he approaches the bar.

CUSTOMER (O.S.)
Bartender, give me another!

Bartender Kimble doesn't move. He just stares at Ed who grabs
a barstool in front of him.

ED WELLES
(casually)
Jim. I'll have the usual.

CUSTOMER (O.S.)
Hey, bartender, give me another!

ED WELLES
And the usual for me.

Kimble grabs a bottle and leaves to take care of the customer.
Monica stares straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with Ed.

ED WELLES
(to Monica)
Sweetheart, that's a pretty tune.

Monica glares at him.

ED WELLES
Do I know it?

Kimble tends to the cash register and then turns to mix Ed's
drink.

ED WELLES
You work hard, huh, Jim? I don't
know as I could stand that -- people
yellin' at me all the time. 'Course,
I had to put up with some of that in
the army. You ever in the service,
Jim?

KIMBLE
Here's your drink.

ED WELLES
Down in Korea, in combat, they used
to have these loudspeakers and they
told me all about what was goin' on
back here when we were fightin'.

KIMBLE
They used to tell you?

Ed points to his forehead and grins.

ED WELLES
(sharply, to Kimble)
You have a nice time out there at
Wonderland?

Stunned, Kimble and Monica exchange glances.

ED WELLES
I saw ya. You looked like you were
enjoyin' yourselves. The three of ya
made a... nice lookin' family.

KIMBLE
Welles, I'm not going to pretend to
guess what makes you this way. Your
suspicions about your wife are all
wrong.

ED WELLES
I got no suspicions. Facts, Jim.

Monica watches Ed down his drink and then stare at the empty
glass.

ED WELLES
You make real good drinks. I don't
know, maybe it's just 'cause I'm in
such a good mood I wouldn't know the
difference.

KIMBLE
Don't you ever think of what you're
doing to your boy?

ED WELLES
(smiles)
Now, let's not spoil everything with
a lot of unpleasant talk.

KIMBLE
Welles, see a doctor.

ED WELLES
I'm in perfect health. You've got no
idea how good I do feel. Well, good
night, Jim.

Ed rises, walks away, stops and turns to wave his cigarette
at Monica.

ED WELLES
Good night, sweetheart.

Kimble and Monica watch as Ed walks out the door.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE BRANDING IRON - NIGHT

The desert wind WHISTLES. It's closing time, in the wee small
hours of Sunday morning. Heir shifts over, Kimble and Monica
exit the bar and tighten their coats around themselves.

MONICA
Oh! These desert winds.

KIMBLE
There's our cab.

As Kimble escorts Monica across the street to a waiting taxi,
an undistinguished car, parked farther up the street, STARTS
up and pulls beside them. Two men sit in front. The man in
the passenger seat gets out of the car and confronts Kimble
who has just helped Monica into the taxi.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
The lady will leave now.
(politely, to Monica)
Uh, police officer.
(to the cab driver)
See me about her fare. Ask for
Sergeant Burden.

SGT. BURDEN, the creepiest plainclothes detective in Arizona,
gently pushes Kimble aside and closes the cab door on Monica.
Kimble and Burden watch the taxi pull away.

SGT. BURDEN
We'd be obliged if you'd get in the
automobile, Mr. Lincoln. That is
your name, James Lincoln?

KIMBLE
Yes. Would you mind telling me --?

Sgt. Burden shows Kimble his badge.

SGT. BURDEN
Detective-Sergeant Burden. Please
get in.

Kimble and Burden get in the back seat. The car's driver, a
bespectacled man named FAIRFIELD, puts the car in gear.
They drive through the empty streets of Tucson.

CUT TO:

INT. CAR - NIGHT

Sgt. Burden, sitting next to Kimble in the rear, introduces
Sgt. Fairfield at the wheel.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
Ah, Detective Fairfield. He's from
Ohio. Where are you from, Mr. Lincoln?

KIMBLE
Uh, Rockford. Illinois.

SGT. BURDEN
Care for a cigarette?

KIMBLE
Uh, no, thanks.

Sgt. Burden prepares to light up.

KIMBLE
Could you tell me what this is about?

SGT. BURDEN
Is this your first visit to Tucson,
Mr. Lincoln?

Kimble nods.

SGT. BURDEN
Ya like it?

KIMBLE
I haven't seen much.

SGT. BURDEN
But you've liked what you have.

Sgt. Burden lights his cigarette.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
How do you like your job, Lincoln?

SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Well, he hasn't seen much of it. But
he likes what he has.
(to Kimble)
Correct?

An increasingly nervous Kimble nods.

KIMBLE
You know what?

Without thinking, Kimble reaches into his jacket pocket.
Sgt. Burden tenses up. Kimble senses this and slowly pulls
out his own pack of cigarettes and shows them to a relieved
Burden. Only six months a fugitive, an inexperienced Kimble
allows himself to talk too much -- rambling to cover his
nervousness.

KIMBLE
It's funny...

SGT. BURDEN
Something funny?

KIMBLE
Well, I guess I mean, uh, strange.
An average man, if there is one, is
walking home and... and the police
pick him up for questioning -- What's
your name? Where'd ya come from? --
et cetera. You know he's scared.

SGT. BURDEN
Is that right? Well, I never knew
that.
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Did you know that, Fairfield?

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Now, why would the average man be
scared of the police?

KIMBLE
Guilt. I guess there isn't a man in
the world who doesn't have something
he wants to hide. Even you two.

SGT. BURDEN
Now, that remark was not calculated
to gain favor with me.

KIMBLE
I'm sorry. I guess these questions
are just getting me a little nervous.
You know, Sergeant, you are pushing
me around. Gently, but pushing. Put
yourself in my place. I'm a stranger
in town. No one to vouch for me. No
friend who's a lawyer. I can't demand
a thing. I just have to sit here and
take it.

SGT. BURDEN
I wish I could argue with ya. But
you know you're right. I wouldn't
want you to think I was sadistic.
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Fairfield, do you think we've been
unkind?

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Maybe so, Sergeant.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Kimble)
Well, some comfort to think we've
saved you a walk on a chilly evening.
Your hotel.

To Kimble's surprise, the car brakes to a halt outside his
hotel. A relieved Kimble senses that they're about to let
him go.

KIMBLE
Um, I certainly appreciate it.

SGT. BURDEN
Not at all.

Kimble and Sgt. Burden exchange pleasant nods.

KIMBLE
Good night, Sergeant.

SGT. BURDEN
Good night.

KIMBLE
(to Fairfield)
Good night.

Fairfield grins and nods as Burden and Kimble start to exit
the car.

CUT TO:

EXT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL - NIGHT

The car is parked out front. Burden and Kimble emerge from
the back seat and Kimble starts to enter his hotel.

SGT. BURDEN
Uh, Mr. Lincoln...

Kimble stops dead in his tracks as Burden and Fairfield leave
the car and join him in the hotel entrance.

SGT. BURDEN
I honest to goodness don't know what's
the matter with us.

KIMBLE
That's all right, Sergeant. It's an
easy mistake.

SGT. BURDEN
Of course. But we want to do the
right thing.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
We'll see you to your room.

KIMBLE
Well, you... you don't really have
to --

SGT. BURDEN
Mr. Lincoln. We insist.

Reluctantly, Kimble allows the policemen to escort him into
the hotel.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KIMBLE'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

Kimble and Sgt. Fairfield look on as Sgt. Burden opens
Kimble's suitcase and examines the contents.

SGT. BURDEN
Well, Fairfield, wouldn't you say
it's about time he unpacked?

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Well, maybe he did, found he didn't
like it here, and now he's getting
ready to leave.

SGT. BURDEN
(nods, to Kimble)
I was born here. I'll die here. I'd
like to keep Tucson as clean as its
air. I welcome visitors. Most of
'em.

Sgt. Fairfield fishes a huge pile of newspapers out of the
wastebasket.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Mr. Lincoln, you... you usually read
every paper?

KIMBLE
Well, that's how I found the job.

Kimble watches nervously as Sgt. Fairfield heads off to search
the bathroom.

SGT. BURDEN
We've had a complaint against you,
Mr. Lincoln.

KIMBLE
Complaint?

SGT. BURDEN
Mr. Edward Welles, Phoenix. Claims
you're breaking up his marriage.

KIMBLE
His marriage is already broken up.
I'm just trying to help his wife and
boy. They're afraid of him.

SGT. BURDEN
That's not the impression we got
from Mr. Welles.

KIMBLE
Have you talked to Mrs. Welles?

SGT. BURDEN
We're not in the marriage counseling
business. Nor are you.

KIMBLE
I'll tell you this. Unless that man
is helped, you might pay a very high
price to find out just how dangerous
he really is.

Sgt. Fairfield returns from the bathroom carrying a bottle
of black hair dye and a dye-stained toothbrush.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
He claims Mr. Welles is dangerous,
Fairfield.

Burden and Fairfield grin wickedly at the bottle in
Fairfield's hand.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
What've you got there?

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Hair dye.

Both men, grinning like maniacs, turn to Kimble.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
You use this stuff?

KIMBLE
Uh... yeah. Last month, I-I saw a
little gray. I-I thought it wouldn't
exactly help in finding work.

Burden and Fairfield stare hard at Kimble who tries to
maintain his composure.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
(to Sgt. Burden)
Does a good job. I don't see a single
gray. Maybe he worries a lot.

SGT. BURDEN
(to Sgt. Fairfield)
Could be diet. I read where a man
can get gray from certain foods.
(to Kimble)
Are you eating right, Mr. Lincoln?

KIMBLE
I eat what I can afford. I try not
to worry.

SGT. BURDEN
(grimly, to Kimble)
Leave Tucson tonight.

Kimble, looking like a whipped puppy dog, nods in agreement.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
What's the matter? We cost you a job
in a wonderful city. Aren't you going
to protest?

KIMBLE
I'm too tired.

SGT. BURDEN
Get some rest in another town, Mr.
Lincoln.

Sgt. Fairfield hands Kimble his dye and toothbrush. Burden
and Fairfield exit the hotel room. A defeated Kimble stands
alone.

FADE OUT

EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

FADE IN a few minutes later as a Tanner Yellow Cab pulls up
in front of the El Capitan Apartments. Kimble emerges from
the cab.

KIMBLE
(to the cab driver)
Wait for me!

Kimble runs up the steps and walks to Monica's apartment.
He KNOCKS on the door.

CUT TO:

INT. MONICA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Monica runs to the front door and lets Kimble in.

MONICA
What did the police want?

KIMBLE
He convinced them I was an outsider
trying to break up his happy home.
(beat)
Monica. I've got to leave town. But
if you and Mark come with me, you
might be worse off.

MONICA
I don't understand.

KIMBLE
My picture's in every police station
in the country. Right now they might
just be realizing who James Lincoln
really is. A convicted murderer.

MONICA
I don't believe it.

KIMBLE
I said, convicted. I'm innocent.
(beat)
I'm a doctor, pediatrician.
(corrects himself)
I was a doctor. My wife wouldn't
have children. She wouldn't adopt.
We argued -- too much for too long.
One night, I walked out. I got in
the car, I drove, I parked... just
stared at the river. I remember a
boy in a rowboat. He didn't see me.
After a while, I cooled off and I
drove home. About a block from the
house, I almost hit a man. A man
with one arm. He was running. I found
my wife beaten to death.

MONICA
Who...?

KIMBLE
I don't know. It had to be
unmotivated. A vagrant, a prowler.
The police never... That was over
two years ago. Trial was a nightmare.
The neighbors had heard our arguments.
My only hope was to find the man
with one arm. I was convicted. I sat
in prison for eighteen months. There
were appeals. They were taking me to
be executed when the train derailed.
Ever since then, I've been running,
hoping that someday I'd find the man
with one arm, a face I can never
forget. I keep running and they keep
hunting. One man in particular --
Lieutenant Philip Gerard. Sometimes
I feel like I've known him all my
life. Some nights I can't sleep. I
hear his footsteps on the stairs. I
see his face outside my door.
Gerard...

MONICA
I don't want him to find you.

Monica and Kimble kiss.

MONICA
I'll pack.

Monica rushes off leaving a saddened Kimble alone.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. TUCSON POLICE STATION - NIGHT

Over a half an hour later. In the detectives' office, Kimble's
wanted poster is tacked to a bulletin board. But Sergeants
Burden and Fairfield, on the opposite side of the room, pay
no attention to it. Burden studies a wall map while Fairfield
pecks away at a typewriter. A KNOCK at the door. Burden and
Fairfield turn to see Ed Welles enter and join them.

SGT. BURDEN
Well, how are you, Mr. Welles?

ED WELLES
I just wanted to stop by and say
thanks. Now, I hope I'm not being
premature, am I?

SGT. BURDEN
Not at all. I explained to him how
we feel about the honored residents
of our state.

ED WELLES
How'd he take it?

SGT. FAIRFIELD
Hotel clerk said he checked out half
an hour ago. Probably buying a bus
ticket right now.

ED WELLES
Uh, I wish I could express my
gratitude in some way.

SGT. BURDEN
We accept no bribery, sir.

Evil Ed looks offended.

ED WELLES
I didn't mean that, Sergeant.

SGT. FAIRFIELD
(tries to placate Ed)
Sir... Sergeant likes to joke.

ED WELLES
Yeah. I better get back to my family.

SGT. BURDEN
Oh, Mr. Welles. Can we drive you?

ED WELLES
Oh, no, thanks. No, I think I can
handle this little thing all by
myself. Good night.

SGT. BURDEN
Good night, then.

Evil Ed departs as Sgt. Burden, shaking his head, crosses to
a coat rack next to the bulletin board and pulls some
cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He walks right past
Kimble's wanted poster and fails to see it.

SGT. BURDEN
I don't know. You think you know
this job and all of a sudden you
don't. A woman breaks up a fine home
to play a piano in a saloon, take up
with a man she's known only a few
hours. I feel sorry for the little
boy.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

FADE IN a few minutes later as Evil Ed pulls up in front of
the El Capitan Apartments. He emerges from his car and walks
up the steps, heading for Monica's apartment, nearly stepping
on a stray cat as he goes.

CUT TO:

EXT. FRONT OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

A taxi pulls up in front of the building. Kimble, Monica,
and Mark emerge from the taxi with suitcases and enter the
building.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

It's the middle of the night on a Sunday morning and the
place is virtually empty. A janitor mops the floor. A couple
of uniformed Air Force policemen hang out near the pinball
machines. Kimble, Monica, and Mark approach the ticket window.
But a woman with a bag reaches the window first.

WOMAN
One ticket to San Diego.

Kimble, Monica, and Mark wait impatiently.

CUT TO:

EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

Evil Ed KNOCKS on Monica's door. No answer. He POUNDS on it.
Nobody home.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

Kimble, Monica, and Mark continue to wait. Kimble watches
nervously as the two uniformed Air Force policemen study a
nearby vending machine. Suddenly, the woman with the bag has
finished buying her ticket and rushes off.

TICKET AGENT
Thank you, ma'am.

Kimble approaches the window.

KIMBLE
What time does the next bus leave?

TICKET AGENT
Well, that would depend on where you
wanted to go, now wouldn't it?

KIMBLE
We don't care. We just want the next
bus.

CUT TO:

EXT. MONICA'S APARTMENT HOUSE - NIGHT

Ed Welles runs back to his car, gets in, and drives away,
tires SQUEALING.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

The Ticket Agent fusses with the tickets. Kimble turns to
reassure Monica.

KIMBLE
It won't be long now.

Kimble watches the two Air Force policemen walk over to an
area marked:

SANDWICHES
COFFEE - CANDY
COLD DRINKS - ICE CREAM
CIGARETTES

The Ticket Agent hands the tickets to a distracted Kimble.

TICKET AGENT
Here are your tickets.

Kimble takes the tickets and gathers up the luggage.

KIMBLE
(to Monica)
Let's go.

Kimble leads Monica and Mark to the rear of the terminal.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

A grim Ed Welles sits behind the wheel of his car as it speeds
through Tucson.

CUT TO:

INT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

Kimble, Monica, and Mark walk to a waiting Greyhound bus
bound for San Diego.

CUT TO:

EXT. FRONT OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

Ed Welles pulls up outside and enters the building.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

Ed lurches up to the ticket window.

ED WELLES
(to the Ticket Agent)
You! You seen a man with a woman and
a boy?

TICKET AGENT
(smiling)
When?

Evil Ed grabs the Ticket Agent by the throat.

ED WELLES
Just now!

TICKET AGENT
Yes. San Diego bus, outside.

Ed releases the stunned Ticket Agent and stalks off.

CUT TO:

INT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

The San Diego bus opens its door. Kimble, Monica, and Mark
join a handful of others in preparing to board. Suddenly,
the terminal door BANGS open. It's Ed Welles, howling like a
wounded animal.

ED WELLES
Lincoln!

Everybody near the bus turns to Ed as he approaches and stares
at Mark.

ED WELLES
I'm glad to see you, Marky. I'm glad
you're here. This is what your mother
is. This is what she did to me when-
when I was in the army.

MARK
I don't believe you, Dad.

Ed glares at Kimble.

ED WELLES
You did this...

Ed reaches into his jacket for his custom-made revolver. But
just as he pulls it out, Kimble grabs his arm and pushes him
back to another Greyhound parked nearby. Pressing Ed against
the bus' front grille, Kimble smashes Ed's gun hand into the
windshield. The gun FIRES noisily into the air. Monica, Mark,
and the others cringe in fear. Kimble savagely shakes the
gun out of Ed's hand. The gun skitters across the pavement
and comes to a stop in front of the San Diego bus.

Ed elbows Kimble in the gut and runs off to retrieve the
gun. He dives for it. Kimble dives on top of Ed.

CUT TO:

INT. BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

The policemen and the Ticket Agent run to see what all the
shooting's about.

CUT TO:

EXT. REAR OF BUS TERMINAL - NIGHT

Ed kicks Kimble off of him and Kimble ends up with his back
to the San Diego bus' grille. Ed, gun in hand, rises from
the pavement with a wicked grin.

He points his weapon right at Kimble. Kimble realizes he's
about to die.

Suddenly, the police arrive with their guns drawn.

POLICEMAN
Air Police! Hold it!

Without hesitation, Ed FIRES at the policemen. He misses.
They FIRE back.

Ed is hit. Hard. He falls backward through a railing into a
pile of trash.

Dead.

The police, the Ticket Agent, and a small group of onlookers
instantly crowd around the body. Kimble sees his chance to
slip away in the confusion and joins Monica who comforts
Mark on the opposite side of the San Diego bus.

Kimble grabs his suitcase and confronts her.

KIMBLE
Monica, if I stay...

MONICA
They'll find you. And you'll never
find him.

KIMBLE
(reassuring)
You can go home now. It's over.

MONICA
Everything?

KIMBLE
We won't forget. That's all we're
left with, remembering.
(beat)
Maybe...

But Kimble can't finish the sentence.

KIMBLE
(to Monica)
Good-bye.
(to Mark)
Good-bye, son.

Deeply saddened, Monica and Mark watch Kimble walk off. He
stops and turns to look back at them for a moment -- just as
the sound of a distant police SIREN approaches. Hearing it,
Kimble turns at once and disappears into the night. As Monica
puts a comforting hand on her son's shoulder, a police car
and a police motorcycle arrive at the terminal.

FADE OUT

EXT. CEMETERY - PHOENIX, AZ - DAY

FADE IN, days later, on some parked cars near a sign reading:
PHOENIX CEMETERY. A large, fancy funeral for Ed Welles is
just now coming to an end.

The clergyman closes his book. Monica, dressed in black,
walks off with Mark and his governess as the crowd disperses.
From amongst the tombstones appears a man in a trenchcoat,
under a darkly threatening sky: the sinister figure of the
implacable Lieutenant Gerard.

GERARD
Mrs. Welles?

Monica, Mark, and the governess stop short at the sight of
Gerard who approaches and nods for Mark to leave. Monica
indicates to the governess that she should take Mark away.
They depart at once, leaving Monica alone with Gerard.

GERARD
I'm sorry. About the circumstances.

MONICA
Who are you?

GERARD
Mrs. Welles, where did James Lincoln
tell you he was going?

MONICA
You're Lieutenant Gerard. The Tucson
police must --

GERARD
They recognized him. Unfortunately,
after the fact.
(beat)
Well. He told you about me? Excellent.
He thinks of me as much as I think
of him.

MONICA
He's innocent.

GERARD
The law says guilty.

MONICA
The law isn't perfect.

Gerard merely stares at her.

MONICA
Wherever he is now, he knows I believe
him. I always will.

Monica pauses, a faraway look in her eye.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. CITY SIDEWALK - A THOUSAND MILES AWAY - NIGHT

The shadowy figure of a man with a suitcase. He walks down a
deserted, foggy street in the middle of the night. A tiny
kitten, lost and MEOWING plaintively, crosses his path. The
shadowy figure turns out to be Kimble.

He stops, crouches, and carefully picks up the kitten,
stroking it gently.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Now six months, two weeks, and another
thousand miles a fugitive, this is
Richard Kimble. And this is how it
is with him.

Kimble reluctantly sets the animal back down, picks up his
suitcase, and leaves the kitten behind.

Near a large RAILROAD CROSSING sign, the silhouette of the
suitcase-carrying Fugitive walks along some dimly lit railroad
tracks and disappears into the mist.

FADE OUT

THE END

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