SCENE 1A: ANGEL ISLAND, SAN FRANCISCO BAY, 1942
[Present are two National Guardsmen: Guard 2, a Sergeant, is a stout
man with an intimidating deep voice; Guard 1 is a lanky private
serving under Guard 2.]
[Office of Guard 2 on the Angel Island military building. File
cabinets line two of the walls and a desk is covered with papers and
folders. It is shortly before sunset.]
Guard 1: [In doorway, just arriving] Sir, we have only one more
group of prisoners left to process.
Guard 2: [Standing behind his desk, sorting a pile of dossiers] For
tonight, you mean. [Gesturing to the file cabinets] There are
plenty more Japs still out there, spying, plotting.... And how many
times have I told you, they're 'detainees' -- not prisoners.
Guard 1: Sorry, sir. It's the recent immigrant group. The
translator has already gotten most of their names, but there's...
trouble with a few of them.
Guard 2: What a surprise. [Chuckling to himself, walking slowly to
the doorway] So, some of them want to stay?
[He checks the truncheon hanging at his side, and runs an admiring
hand down the weapon.]
[Lowering his voice, looking at Guard 1 closely, who nods in
understanding] Well, there's not gonna be any Pearl Harbors in *my*
bay.
SCENE 1B: Ad hoc interrogation room.
[A Japanese translator squats in front of two tired-looking Japanese
immigrants. The room is poorly lit and cramped.]
Translator: [Forcefully speaking Japanese to the two prisoners, who
sit silently, lost in a trance, oblivious to their surroundings.]
[Guards 1 and 2 enter through a heavy steel door.]
Guard 1: It's these two, sir. Some others refuse to give their
names, but these two won't even speak.
Guard 2: [Noting their deep trance] What in the hell's wrong with
them? Have they been checked?
Guard 1: Yes, sir. They went through medical this morning.
Guard 2: You there, translator. [Sternly] Leave the room.
Translator: [Looking over his shoulder, with a hint of both fear and
disgust] [With slight Japanese accent] I just need a few more
minutes.
Guard 2: [Placing his hand on his truncheon] This is a military
operation. I'm not going to ask you again.
Translator: [Hesitantly rises, opens the door, but turns to the
prisoners briefly and issues them a curt warning in Japanese. He
exits the room and closes the heavy steel door with a reverberating
clang.]
Guard 2: [Withdrawing the truncheon from his belt] Went through
medical, huh? I've got a diagnosis for them: thick skulls.
[Slapping the truncheon into his left hand] And there's only one way
to fix that.
Guard 1: [Trying not to laugh] Come on Sarge, let the translators
work on 'em some more.
Guard 2: [Pointing his truncheon at Guard 1] You, boy, have a lot to
learn about Japs.
[Guard 2 quickly swings his weapon at the nearest prisoner, hitting
him on the ear. The prisoner leans to one side, but is unphased by
the attack. He straightens back up and shows no signs of pain or
emotion.]
Guard 2: Sneaky yellow bastards, every last one of them. Would you
look at that? Not even a whimper. [He winds up his truncheon like a
baseball bat.] That was just a tickle, buddy.
[View changes to the face of Guard 1, who winces at each blow heard
in the background. Guard 2 is grunting at the prisoners while
striking them. Guard 1 folds his arms and tries to ignore the
torture. He turns periodically to keep an eye on the door, lest they
be discovered. Slowly, we focus on the pistol at his side. The
holster flap unbuttons itself and bends up as if by magic. The .45
pistol smoothly rises out of the holster and floats in mid-air,
rotating to point at Guard 2. Guard 1 turns his attention back to
the prisoners, and is stunned to see his pistol floating by itself.
The trigger begins to draw back, but Guard 1 is frozen in disbelief.]
Guard 1: Sarge, I think I'm seein'... [The gun discharges, striking
Guard 2 in the back with one round.]
[The prisoners begin chanting a five-syllable phrase in Japanese,
repeating it with increasing intensity. They clutch their shoulders
and rock in unison on the bench.]
[Guard 2 arches his back in pain, dropping the truncheon held high
over his head. It clatters onto the cement floor. He drops to his
knees and falls over.]
[The pistol starts rotating to face Guard 1.]
[There is some commotion and shouting outside the room, sounds of
heavy boots running towards the door.]
Guard 1: [Stumbling backwards, eyes wide open and staring at the
pistol] Help! Somebody... [The gun fires, he doubles over, and
falls dead at the base of the door. The door latch locks itself,
again by an unseen hand.]
[The two prisoners stop their chanting, coming out of their
meditation. They breathe a sigh of relief. Some soldiers are
banging on the door and shouting. Prisoner 1 (P1) rubs his elbow hit
by the truncheon. Prisoner 2 (P2) steps up onto the bench and opens
the small window behind them. P2 sees the setting sun, and with his
face orange from its light, he smiles. P2 puts his shoulders through
the window opening, but P1 turns white in terror, shouts something in
Japanese and grabs the pant leg of P2, forcing him to abort his
escape attempt. We see the reason for P1's fear: the pistol is still
floating, now aimed at P1.]
[P2 mutters a horrified curse, and the gun fires, killing P1 with a
shot between the eyes.]
[P2 closes his eyes, grabs his shoulders again, returning to his
trance. He begins chanting the same Japanese phrase as before. We
zoom on his face, seeing the intense concentration and fear, as sweat
begins to bead on his forehead. We hear a loud click: it is the
hammer of the pistol cocking itself. Perhaps from Samurai bravery,
primal fear, or mere curiosity, P2 opens his eyes. We see what he
sees: the black hole of a gun barrel giving way to a yellow flash,
which fades to total darkness.]
[BUFFY THEME MUSIC]
[END PART 1/5]
Next Part
Hundo's Stories
