Ext. Amity main street – day

 

In the busy center of a town preparing for the big Fourth of

July weekend, Brody wends his way around sidewalk activity,

purpose and haste in each stride. As he turns a corner a

little man in a white smock emerges from the Funeral Parlor.

 

This is Carl Santos, Amity's part-time coroner. Santos looks

both ways before crossing Colonial Drive.

 

Brody passes Keisel's Bicycle Rental, navigating an awkward

course through an odd assortment of Schwinns that line the

sidewalk in front of a demolished white picket fence. Keisel

intercepts Brody on the run.

 

KEISEL

(he stares at Brody's

face)

Wait-a-minute.

(stares some more)

Glasses, right?

 

Brody nods yes, and starts to move away, but Keisel holds on

to him.

 

KEISEL

Look at those fences! Little guys

about eight to ten years old. And

look at this!

 

He holds up bicycle. The bicycle's spokes are bent and broken

from some sort of blows.

 

KEISEL

They did that with their bare hands.

 

BRODY

Call me later in the day, okay, Harry?

 

ANGLE - AMITY GAZETTE NEWSPAPER OFFICE - PORCH

 

Santos emerges with Ben Meadows, the stylish, late-thirties

editor of the Amity Gazette. Together they cut a beeline for

the other side of the street.

 

ANGLE - AMITY STREET

 

Past taverns and chowder shacks, past bleacher construction

and July Fourth posters, Brody enters Hardware and Sporting

Goods... so overstocked that beach umbrellas, aluminum deck

chairs, and rainbow beach towels splash a surplus of color

from the display window to the sidewalk.

 

INT. HARDWARE STORE – DAY

 

The store proprietor is busy at work on an inventory list

with a mainland delivery man.

 

LYNWOOD

Stuff's no good to me in August when

the Pilgrims come in June...

(to Brody)

Go on and help yourself to whatever

you need, Chief. Can you work the

register?

 

EXT. HARDWARE STORE AND STREET - DAY

 

Brody emerges with enough poster-board, wooden stakes, nails,

paint, and brushes to close every beach on the island. He

starts back the way he came when Hendricks shoots up the

street in the patrol jeep. He stops fast enough to call

attention, leans out the window.

 

HENDRICKS

Polly told me to tell you there's a

scout troop in Avril Bay doing the

mile swim for their Merit Badges. I

couldn't call them in, there's no

phone out there.

 

BRODY

(hands him the sign

material)

Get out of there – take these back

to the office and make up some 'Beach

Closed' signs, and let Polly do the

printing.

 

HENDRICKS

What's the matter with my printing?

 

EXT. VAUGHN'S REALTY – DAY

 

Revealing Larry Vaughn, the Mayor of Amity, exchanging

anxieties with Ben Meadows and Coroner Santos and two other

city Selectmen. They come out in a group, reach the sunlight,

and squint down the street as Brody careens around the corner

and out of sight. Deputy Hendricks, laden with his arts and

crafts, passes them on the street front.

 

VAUGHN

What have you got there, Lenny?

 

HENDRICKS

We had a shark attack at South Chop

this morning, Mayor. Fatal. Gotta

batten down the beach.

 

Vaughn and group exchange horrified looks, but we get the

impression it is not in response to the shark-attack news.

 

VAUGHN

Who've you told this to, Lenny?

 

HENDRICKS

I just found out about it -- but

there's a bunch of Boy Scouts in the

water a coupla miles down the coast

from where we found the girl. Avril

Bay, thereabouts. Chief went to dry

them off.

 

VAUGHN

(to Meadows)

Take my car, okay?

(to Hendricks)

You come with us, Lenny.

 

HENDRICKS

I've got all these signs here...

 

VAUGHN

C'mon, it'll give us time to think

about what they're going to say.

 

They all crowd into a Cadillac El Dorado with Vaughn Realty

signs on the doors.

 

EXT. AVRIL BAY - DAY

 

A flotilla of twenty exhausted Boy Scouts round a buoy that

marks the official course. A rowboat with Scoutmaster using

a bullhorn keeps pace, and urges the boys on.

 

SCOUTMASTER

(bullhorn effect)

Let's go, Robbie. You too, Hofner.

Boyle, keep your head up. Alberts,

keep kicking...

(etc., ad lib)