THE NIGHT STALKER: KOLCHAK RETURNS

ACT ONE

EXT. TOWN - DAY

Opening credits over an aerial, idyllic sweep of a nondescript, but pleasant Central Florida town, into an equally cookie-cutter, albeit charming retirement community. INCLUDE placid lakes, shopping malls, a CONSTRUCTION SITE. KOLCHAK's voice-over narrative begins.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  Someone once said that memories are merely the restless ghosts of one's past, endlessly wandering the corridors of  one's mind. Some ghosts may be friendly - pleasant, heartwarming, even nostalgic -- 

The SHOT centers in on the attic window of a small, A-frame house in the neighborhood. We go inside, the breeze rustling lace curtains.

INT. ATTIC - DAY

An elderly lady is carefully, lovingly polishing an antique spinning wheel. We can see by the newspapers on the floor, as well as the work materials and discards, it has been a long and exhaustive renovation project. She takes a step back to admire her work. She nods with a smile, and turns away. We go in tight on the wheel, which begins to slowly rotate.

KOLCHAK 
(Voice-over, continuing) -- While other ghosts are inexplicably malevolent, evil.

The spinning wheel begins to tremor, then bounce violently. The elderly lady, by now at the doorway at the top of the stairs, whirls around in horror. The spinning wheel is MOVING slowly toward her, vibrating madly. Abruptly, the spinning wheel slides across the hardwood floor, slamming into the woman, sending her tumbling down the stairs, and sprawling onto the floor, neck broken.

POV - STAIRCASE LANDING TO ATTIC DOOR

The spinning wheel is framed in the doorway, slowly rotating to a stop.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  Emmaline Parker had recalled a pleasant spirit from her past. Or so she thought. That particular ghost ended her life.

EXT. TOWN - DAY

CARL KOLCHAK, driving down the streets of the same small Florida town we glimpsed earlier from above. He is wearing his trademark hat and driving a '65 Mustang convertible.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  After forty-five years as a reporter, I had more than my fair share of ghosts, both pleasant and horrific. Mostly the latter. I had seen things and lived through experiences that most people mercifully forget about in their deepest, darkest nightmares. So, who could blame me for semi-retiring to a peaceful little village in Florida called Lake Obsidian, just thirty-five miles southeast of the city owned by a billionaire rodent.

EXT. PARKING LOT - 'LAKE OBSIDIAN SENTINEL' - DAY

KOLCHAK wheels the Mustang into a parking spot marked "KOLCHAK - EDITOR".

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over, continuing)  And, after dealing with lunatic, meglomaniacal newspaper editors for so long, it was little wonder I bought my own paper - The Lake Obsidian Sentinel. Also understandable that I scoured the country and hired the best possible candidate as editor -- Carl M. Kolchak - ME.

INT. SENTINEL NEWSROOM

KOLCHAK enters the small newsroom, which consists of a couple of desks, ancient typewriters, and an extremely bored-looking, heavy-duty lady senior citizen manning the old-fashioned phone.

KOLCHAK
(Tossing his hat in the general  vicinity of a hat rack) Betty, my love, as beautiful as ever. Any messages?

BETTY 
Kolchak, that's a joke, right?

KOLCHAK
(His most winning smile) Right on both counts, dear.

KOLCHAK sits at his disheveled desk, and rummages through some mail. There is a police scanner behind him.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  Okay, so it wasn't the Chicago Trib or the Times -- hell, it wasn't even the Enquirer ...but it was MINE.

DISPATCHER
(Filtered, urgent)  Sheriff?  Sheriff Sharkey? Come in please.

SHARKEY
(Filtered, static)  Yeah, Cheryl?

DISPATCHER
(Filter)  Sheriff, Miz Parker over at Oak Estates is dead.

KOLCHAK starts to pay attention.

SHARKEY
(Filter - nonplussed) So, call the ambulance.

DISPATCHER
(Filter)  Ah, Sheriff, we got some, uh, unusual circumstances out there...you might want to head out there.

KOLCHAK is scrambling for a mini-tape recorder, a camera,
-- and his hat --

SHARKEY 
(Filter)  On my way.

KOLCHAK
(Heading for the door) Me too, Betty!

EXT. LAKE OBSIDIAN STREETS - DAY

KOLCHAK is driving the '65 Mustang at break neck speed down the otherwise peaceful streets toward the Parker house.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  Sheriff John Glenn Sharkey, United States Navy veteran. Ex-SEAL, somewhat shadowy participant in Lebanon "peace-keeping" missions and Desert Storm. He became sheriff of sleepy Lake Obsidian in an attempt to escape some demons of his own. And, largely, he had succeeded. -- Up until now.

EXT. PARKER HOUSE - DAY

The whole Lake Obsidian Police Department is evidently here -- no more than a dozen men, including ambulance attendants, and medical examiner's office. A well built man in his late-thirties in a starched and pressed khaki uniform is somewhat tentatively giving orders, having crime scene tape strung, etc., until he sees KOLCHAK, and he grimaces.

SHARKEY 
Oh great.   Just what I need.  What do YOU want?

KOLCHAK 
Sheriff -- Glenn -- c'mon. I'm the press in this here burg.

SHARKEY
Jeez, Carl. Just don't get in the way. Okay? Please.

KOLCHAK
(Mock offense)  In the WAY?  MOI?

INT. PARKER HOUSE - DAY

SHARKEY is shaking his head as he and KOLCHAK enter. The elderly Mrs. Parker is at the foot of the stairs in the same position we last saw her. Her face is frozen in a rictus of horror. KOLCHAK begins snapping pictures to SHARKEY's chagrin. KOLCHAK "feels" something -- a chill perhaps -- and glances to the attic door at the top of the stairs.

POV - STAIR LANDING UPWARD

The spinning wheel is still in the doorway -- still slowly rotating, framed eerily by the indirect sunlight.

TIGHT SHOT - KOLCHAK

KOLCHAK
(A murmur)  What the -- ?

ANOTHER ANGLE TWO SHOT - KOLCHAK AND SHARKEY

KOLCHAK jumps over the body and bounds up the stairs, snapping pictures as he goes.

SHARKEY
KOLCHAK!!

TOP OF THE STAIRS

KOLCHAK is still snapping pictures, now of the spinning wheel, as SHARKEY joins him.

SHARKEY
Kolchak, what the hell are you doing?

KOLCHAK 
Sheriff, what do you make of this?

CU: GOUGE MARKS ON HARDWOOD FLOOR

KOLCHAK
Lookit -- how, and WHY is this -- this thing in the middle of the doorway? And look at the marks on the floor. What does it mean?

SHARKEY
(Looks around)  Look, Kolchak. I'm not REALLY a cop. I got this job basically because I'm a veteran -- and maybe out of sympathy.  I'm gonna have to call the State Police in on this thing.

KOLCHAK 
(Oblivious to SHARKEY) It's almost as if -- as if the WHEEL knocked the old gal down -- DOWN THE STAIRS!

SHARKEY
(A take -- turns to the wheel)  So -- I guess I'm gonna have to read you your rights.

EXT. SENTINEL PARKING LOT - DAY

KOLCHAK wheels the Mustang into the lot. Unfortunately, a brand new Mustang Convertible is in HIS spot. Irritated, he parks crookedly in the next open spot.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  It seemed ghosts from my own past were once again rearing their ugly heads. Open sarcasm from the police department. Could hostility be far behind? How refreshingly nostalgic.

KOLCHAK eyeballs the new car as he steams toward the Sentinel entrance.

INT. SENTINEL NEWSROOM - DAY

KOLCHAK enters, looking around.

KOLCHAK
Betty, any messages? And who the hell's in my parking spot?

BETTY points an ink pen toward KOLCHAK's desk. An attractive young woman, mid-twenties is sitting at his desk.

KOLCHAK Well, make yourself at home.   Miz -- ?

C. J.
(Extending hand)  It's Miss, Mr. Kolchak. Forrester, Carla Jane Forrester. You can call me C. J.

KOLCHAK
(Reluctantly shaking hands) And, why would I want to -- ?

C. J.
(Handing KOLCHAK a folder)  This is my resume. I'm a graduate of the Chicago School of Journalism, with honors. And I'm looking for a job.

KOLCHAK
(Barks out a laugh)  Here?  Are you out of your mind?

C. J.
(Leveling)  Look, Mr. Kolchak. I've followed your career ever since I was a kid.  Vegas, Seattle, New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Atlanta. You are, at least in my mind, the most important American journalist since Sullivan -- okay, maybe Murrow. Definitely the most underrated. I believe I could learn a lot from you.

BG, BETTY rolls her eyes. KOLCHAK is momentarily uncomfortably flattered. Then he becomes suspicious.

KOLCHAK 
Okay, who are you, REALLY?

C. J.
(Laughs, heads for the door) You're a reporter, Carl. Dig. Check me out. I'll be staying at the Lake Obsidian Inn.

KOLCHAK
You want to work for ME? (C. J. nods) Well, I couldn't pay much -- really, ANYTHING...

C. J.
(Turns at the door)  I can afford to intern for awhile.

KOLCHAK
(Still suspicious)  You look vaguely familiar -- who are you, REALLY?

C. J.
(Her most winning smile) Why, Mr. Kolchak, I'm your new protege!

Abruptly, the police scanner crackles into life.

DISPATCHER
(Filter, urgent) Sheriff Sharkey, come in please.

SHARKEY 
(Filter)  Go ahead.

DISPATCHER
(Filter)  Got another one, Sheriff. Oaks Estates again. Old Man McGillicuddy.

SHARKEY 
(Exasperation through the filter)  Jesus!  On my way!

KOLCHAK 
You ready, Miss Protege?

C. J.
Bet on it, boss!

KOLCHAK
Good! If that's your new car in MY spot, you're driving!

C. J. holds up a key chain with a grin, and the TWO are out the door.

EXT. LAKE OBSIDIAN - DAY

C. J.'s Mustang is whizzing through the streets, with KOLCHAK riding shotgun, one hand on his hat, the other on the dashboard, hanging on for dear life.

KOLCHAK
(Voice-over)  Because death is a part of everyday life at a senior citizen retirement community, Mrs. Emmaline Parker's demise would initially be dismissed as accidental, in spite of -- or perhaps BECAUSE of -- the bizarre circumstances. However, I was beginning to feel that familiar tingle at the back of my neck. Not to mention that rock in the pit of my stomach. Kolchak was comin' back -- with reluctance.

EXT. THE MCGILLICUDDY HOUSE - OVERHEAD SHOT - DUSK

C.J. wheels the Mustang into a clearing near SHARKEY's police cruiser. She and KOLCHAK sprint into action.

CLOSE SHOT - EXT. MCGILLICUDDY HOUSE - DUSK

SHARKEY exits front door, looking somewhat green.

KOLCHAK 
Sheriff, you don't look so good.

SHARKEY
Carl, you don't wanna go inside.

C. J.
C. J. Forrester, Sentinel. Sheriff, care to make a statement?

SHARKEY
No.  (To KOLCHAK)  Who the hell's she?

KOLCHAK
My new reporter. In training. C. J., this is Sheriff Glen Sharkey. Don't let the pale green pallor fool you, he's actually relatively competent.

C. J.
Mind if we take a look around, Sheriff?

SHARKEY
Beggin' your pardon, Miz Forrester, but I don't think you wanna see what's inside there.

C. J.
Well, "beggin' your pardon" Wyatt Earp, but there's not much I HAVEN'T seen.

SHARKEY waves KOLCHAK and C. J. into the house.

SHARKEY
(Under his breath)   You ain't seen nothin' like this, girl.

BLACK SCREEN. LIGHT ABRUPTLY COMES ON -- INT. REFRIGERATOR POV - INSIDE LOOKING OUT

The unfortunate Mr. McGillicuddy has evidently been crushed by the refrigerator door into the interior racks. His eyes are open, fixed in a terrified stare. His right arm is extended and he is clutching a crushed beer can in his hand. The contents of the refrigerator are trashed and splattered everywhere, as if a great struggle has taken place inside. A pie is smeared on the side of MCGILLICUDDY's face. KOLCHAK peers astonished over the man's shoulder while C. J. is calmly, analytically taking notes.

INT. MCGILLICUDDY HOUSE'S KITCHEN - DUSK

KOLCHAK
Okay, just how the hell did THIS happen?

C. J.
(Lifting the victim's shirt) Look at this, Carl.

CU: MCGILLICUDDY'S SEVERELY BRUISED BACK

TIGHT SHOT - C. J.' S  EXAMINATION

C. J.
This layered bruising would indicate repeated violent blows to the back, probably by the refrigerator door. (Presses gingerly on the victim's back) Several ribs broken. Probably internal injuries as well.

KOLCHAK
I thought you were a reporter...

C. J.
Did a year of Pre-Med. Thought I was gonna be a doctor.

KOLCHAK
What stopped you?

C. J.
(Calmly examining the corpse)  Too disgusting.

KOLCHAK
See anything else?

C. J.
(Carefully looking over the victim's shoulder)  Well, he was struck with enough force to impale him on the food racks. YEECH!

KOLCHAK
WHAT?!

C. J.
Moldy cottage cheese.

KOLCHAK rolls his eyes and begins examining the floor around the refrigerator.

CU: TILE FLOOR GOUGED ~ THE REFRIGERATOR'S BASE

TWO SHOT - KOLCHAK AND C. J.

KOLCHAK
Not only that, but the refrigerator was apparently lifted COMPLETELY off the floor and slammed down a couple times. Look at the dents and gouge marks on the tile.

ANOTHER ANGLE - KITCHEN DOOR

SHARKEY and crotchety old MEDICAL EXAMINER HARLAN FAGAN enter. FAGAN becomes livid at the sight of KOLCHAK and C. J.

FAGAN
(Holding up his badge)  Dr. Harlan Fagan, Medical Examiner. What the HELL are you two doing in MY crime scene?!?

C. J.
(Flashing press credentials)  Carla Jane Forrester, Sentinel. Oh, just the usual First Amendment stuff. Freedom of the press, right of the public to have access to information -- that sort of thing. Nothing to concern yourself about, Doctor.

SHARKEY
(Tired)  What did you do, Kolchak, have yourself cloned?

KOLCHAK
(Enjoying this)   She is good, isn't she!

FAGAN
I don't care if you been sent by the Lord God Almighty his own self, get the hell outta my crime scene!

KOLCHAK
Don't get your support hose in a bunch, Dad, we're pretty much done here.

SHARKEY
Carl, please -- let the man do his job.

KOLCHAK 
Just doin' mine, Sheriff.

KOLCHAK, SHARKEY and C. J. exit through the kitchen door.

EXT. MCGILLICUDDY HOUSE - NIGHT

Crowds of concerned senior citizen neighbors have gathered by now. SHARKEY motions KOLCHAK and C. J. to an isolated side of the house.

ANOTHER ANGLE - STREET - NIGHT

An ominous-looking black low-rider with tinted windows rolls slowly past. The car pauses momentarily as we indistinctly see someone (someTHING?) pale peering through the half-opened driver's side window. The car slowly moves on.

EXT. MCGILLICUDDY HOUSE - SIDE

SHARKEY
Listen, you two. I want this kept quiet for the time being.

C. J.
That ain't likely, Wyatt.

SHARKEY
The name's Glenn, and if I have to put the two of you in jail, I will. I'll not have your two-bit rag starting a riot here.

C. J. starts to object, but KOLCHAK holds up a hand.

KOLCHAK
Sheriff, there's the distinct possibility that you have, at the very least, an extremely dangerous serial killer on your hands here --

SHARKEY
(Covering his ears)  I'm not hearing this --

KOLCHAK
(Continuing)  -- maybe something WORSE. Two people, that we know of, have been killed under suspicious circumstances. (To C. J.) I don't know, something, somehow involving mechanical devices, machinery, or who knows what.

C. J.
(Brainstorming with KOLCHAK)   Maybe a psychosis resulting from an injury involving -- what -- a kitchen appliance, or maybe some traumatic experience in an antique shop?

SHARKEY
Kitchen appliances -- antique shop, my ass! I think you two are the psychotics. Now look, dammit! No publicity about this, not right now. Not at least until I can get some help out here. This is no time to get the whole town in a panic.

A frightened-looking deputy rounds the corner of the house at a dead run, almost falls when he sees his boss.

DEPUTY
Uh, Sheriff -- Uh, I need to talk to you...

SHARKEY
(Exasperated)   Spit it out, Deputy!

DEPUTY
(Looks at KOLCHAK and C. J.)   Well, sir. There's been another one. Two, three blocks from here.

KOLCHAK
Sheriff, I think it may be time to panic.

FADE TO BLACK as we

END ACT ONE