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EXT. SEBASTIAN'S BUILDING - DAWN 120
Slowly the door pushes open and Deckard comes out into
the morning. The sun isn't yet risen, but the sky has
begun to pale. It's a brooding gray stew of a dawn not
very pretty, but even though he can't show it, Deckard
is glad to see it.
For a moment he tilts his head back and takes some
breath, then walks across the courtyard towards the
street, so dead on his feet he hasn't the energy to
fall.
Deckard slumps into the shelter of his car. The col-
lapses on the front seat.
INT. DECKARD'S BEDROOM - DAWN 121
In a corner of the dimness Deckard sits slumped on a
chair, facing the pearly gray light of the window. The
only SOUND in the room is the soft steady BREATHING
that comes from the bed.
Quietly he gets up and walks over to her. Rachael lies
sleeping, one delicate arm exposed from under the sheet.
Deckard stands there, bettered and grim, staring down
at her.
Moments go by and finally he sits gently on the edge of
the bed.
Rachael opens her eyes, and looks up at him, she smiles.
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE (MONTAGE) - DAY 122
Deckard's car is skimming over the narrow highway. He
and Rachael in the front seat. Except for the occasion-
al glance, their faces are still and quiet in the cold
shine of an icy dream.
The clouds overhead are soft and swift.
DECKARD (V.O.)
She wanted to go to a place I knew.
Out of the city. Like one of those
pictures she saw. Where there were
trees but no buildings.
Rachael's face in the window watching the woods stream
by.
DECKARD (V.O.)
We had a good time. She told me a
funny story and I taught her a
song. A song about monkeys and
elephants. And it made us laugh so
hard we couldn't sing.
EXT. WOODS (MONTAGE) - DAY 123
Deckard and Rachael walking. The land lays white and
hushed before them.
Down an aisle of maples and beeches. The frosty light
slanting through the clean, hard limbs.
The crisp, blue-white snow underfoot melted through in
spots exposing soggy patches of rich brown earth.
Rachael stops and faces him. Her lips are parted, her
warm breath turning the cold air to vapor. Looking
lithe and fragile by these barren-rooted trees, she
stands in the crisp white snow looking at Deckard.
Nothing in her retreats, even now her eyes insist on
knowing.
EXT. WOODS - DAY 124
Deckard walking over the snow. Alone. He walks slowly,
mechanically through the cold, unaffected by it. His
gaunt face, empty of expression except for the tears
running down his pale cheeks.
But for the SQUEAK of his wet shoes over the crusted
snow, there is no sound. And Deckard recedes into the
silence of the freezing white landscape.
EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 125
Deckard's car, solid, THROBBING, GUNNING along like
some metal animal. Headlights piercing the dark of the
long, flat road. WHISTLING speed of air and tires spin-
ning THRUM. And then silence. And the silence
astounded by the CRACK OF A GUN.
INT. CAR - NIGHT 126
Deckard is behind the wheel, face in shadow, eyes star-
ing straight ahead.
DECKARD (V.O.)
I told myself over and over again,
if I hadn't done it, they would
have.
I didn't go back to the city, not
that city, I didn't want the job.
She said the great advantage of
being alive was to have a choice.
And she chose. And a part of me
was almost glad. Not because she
was gone but because this way they
could never touch her.
(more)
DECKARD (CONT'D)
As for Tyrell -- he was murdered,
but he wasn't dead. For a long
time I wanted to kill him. But
what was the point? There were too
many Tyrells. But only one Rachael.
Maybe real and unreal could never
be separated. The secret never
found. But I got as close with
her as I'd ever come to it. She'd
stay with me a long time. I guess
we made each other real.
And the ruby lights of Deckard's car disappear into
the darkness.
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