Rope's End J. M. Strother The scene opens in a cave at the bottom of a steep vertical shaft. Water slowly drips from a stalactite into a shallow pool with an echoing ker-plunk ker-plunk sound. Beams from flashlights stab through the darkness from above. Muted shuffling and clunking sounds echo into the darkness. Suddenly a rope drops down, splashing into the pool. Excited voices from some boys echo from above. The rope begins to shake and wiggle, agitating the water, as one of the boys begins to climb down. The camera shifts up, following the rope, to observe a boy of about ten years of age in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and hooded sweat shirt shinnying down the rope like a pro. Two others, similarly attired, stare down at him from a ledge far above. Peter (from above, hood thrown back): You're almost there, Jack. The camera shifts down to the bottom of the rope as Jack splashes down into the pool. Jack: Oh Christ! That's cold! [He scrambles out of the ankle deep water.] Peter: OK, Tom. You're next. Tom stares down into the shaft, obviously worried. Tom is slightly overweight. Tom: What if I can't get back up? Peter: Shit Tom, don't be a baby. You can do it. Jack: Yeah. Or we can pull you up. Come on man. There's a huge cave opening up down here. Jack shines his flashlight down the throat of a large cavern glittering with mineral deposits, in way of encouragement. Jack: I'll hold the rope. Jack holds the bottom of the rope. Tom licks his lips and then lowers himself over the edge. He begins to descend, much slower than Jack had done. He slips once, and freezes. Jack (looking up anxiously): Come on Tom, you can do it. Tom: I can't do it. Peter (looking down with disdain): You can't turn back now. You're more than half way. Come on, it will be so cool. Steeling himself, Tom continues down. At last he reaches the bottom, and quickly scrambles out of the cold water, feet soaked. He beams with pride and Jack claps him on the back. Peter: Catch! Jack looks up just in time to shield his face from a falling backpack. It bounces off his arm and lands in the pool with a terrific splash, fairly soaking him. Jack (shining his light up and yelling): You asshole! I'm soaked! Peter (looking rueful): Sorry. Jack: Shit sorry. I'm fricking freezing! Peter: Said I'm sorry, man. Peter swings over the ledge and quickly shinnies down the rope. Determined not to get his feet wet he jumps out towards dry ground when about five feet off the ground. Just then Tom bends forward to retrieve the backpack. Peter collides heavily with Tom, slamming into his shoulder from above. They both land in an agonizing heap on the hard damp floor. Tom is writhing in pain and Peter is clutching his bruised ribs, and bleeding from his forehead and skinned palms. All three of the boys curse profusely, Tom and Jack at Peter, Peter right back at them. Peter scrambles back up to his feet, and he and Jack begin a pushing match, cussing back and forth. After a moment or two of this they hear Tom moan and look down to see he is still hunched on the floor. They both drop to their knees, one on either side, both in grave concern. Jack: Are you OK, man? Peter: You're all right. Right? Tom moans: I think I broke something. Jack: Oh shit. Peter: Naw. Come on man. You're OK. Right? You're OK? Jack: He's not OK, man. You hurt the shit out of him. Peter (distraught): I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry. Jack: We gotta get him out of here. Both boys move immediately to the rope. They bring it over to Tom. Jack is forming a loose slip knot loop. Peter kneels down in front of Tom to look him in the face. Peter: We'll haul you up, Tom. Come on, lift up your arm. Peter tries to coax Tom to raise his left arm. Tom winces away from him with a loud yelp. Jack kneels down and tries to get Tom to cooperate, but fails. Jack (inspired): We'll loop it through his crotch! Peter: Yeah! That'll work! Between them they manage to get Tom to his feet, and slide the loop up one of his legs. Jack pulls it tight, with the knot placed as comfortably as possible at the fat of Tom's right cheek. Peter: You just hold on with your good arm and we'll pull you up. He and Jack exchange hopeful looks and then they both quickly shinny up the rope. Jack (from above): OK. Hold on. Here we go. The slack is drawn out of the rope and the sound of two boys grunting can be heard. The camera focuses on Tom's feet in the pool. Almost imperceptibly they begin to rise up out of the water. Tom begins to twist at the end of the rope, banging awkwardly into the wall. Jack: Use you're feet, Tom. Come on, help us out! Tom, now listless, makes feeble moves with his feet. This causes him to twist more wildly at the end of the rope and he bangs into the wall with his injured shoulder. With an anguished cry he let's go of the rope and tumbles over to land flat on his back in the pool. Peter fairly flies down the rope, followed quickly by Jack. They struggle to get Tom out of the pool, and once on dry ground, collapse at his side – nearly exhausted. Jack: Oh shit. What'r we gonna do? What'r we gonna do? Jack is now shivering from the cold. So is Tom. Peter: We gotta get help. Jack (looking horror stricken): My dad will kill me! Peter (looking from Jack to Tom and back): He's shivering, man. Hell, you're shivering. Jack looks down at his legs and seems surprised to see them shaking almost uncontrollably. He presses his hands to his knees to make them stop. Peter: We gotta get the fire department. [He looks earnestly into Jack's eyes and lowers his voice] Or he'll die. Jack looks at Tom then nods his head, reluctantly. Peter: You go. I'll stay with Tom. I'm dry. The camera cuts to two feet disappearing over the ledge then pans back down to Tom and Peter huddled together on the floor below. Peter reaches out and turns off one of the flashlights. Peter (to himself): Save the batteries, man. Camera fades out. Camera fades in to a flashlight standing on end, dimly shining. A hand reaches down and picks it up, gives it a vigorous shake. It shines brighter. Camera pans back to show Peter raising to his feet, flashlight in hand, looking up the rope. Tom sits huddled on the floor, now with Peter's sweatshirt draped over him. Peter: Something's wrong. Peter, now with just a short sleeved t-shirt on, rubs his arms together and stomps his feet to generate warmth. The dim light dances crazily due to his actions. He stops and looks down at Tom. He crouches down in front of Tom and lifts the other boy's chin so they look eye to eye. Peter: Something's wrong with Jack, Tom. He should be back by now. Tom blinks. Peter: I'm not leaving you man. I'm going for help. I'll be back. I promise. Tom (sounding confused): You're leaving me? Peter: I'm going for help. You'll be OK. Honest, man. Honest. A tear runs down Tom's cheek. Tom: You're leaving me? Peter reaches down and grabs the other flashlight and turns it on. The beam is bright and steady. He slaps it into Tom's palm. Peter: See. I'll leave you the good light. Nothing to worry about. 'K? Tom blinks, but does not respond. Peter: I'm sorry, man. But I have to go in order to get help. I can't help it man. I'll be back. I promise. His eye (and camera) follows the beam of Tom's flashlight to come to rest on a bat clinging to the roof of a small crevasse. Peter: Hey, look! A bat! Hey, you know what that means, don't you? No response. Peter: It's still day time. Bat's only go out at night. It's still day time, man. I'll be back before night. You'll see. Hey, (he adds with a little grin) you won't be alone. Batty will keep you company. Won't, you Batty? He looks down at Tom and grimly pats him on his good shoulder. Peter: Hang in there, man. I'll be back. The camera cuts to two feet disappearing over the ledge, then pans down to a very forlorn Tom huddled where Peter had left him. Time passes as the flashlight grows dimmer and dimmer. The camera pans up the dimming shaft of light to the bat, which stirs, flutters its wings, and flies off. Tom let's out a whimper and the flashlight dies. Camera cuts to red lights flashing off trees and scattered vehicles. Several are emergency vehicles, police, fire, ambulance. The camera pans across the faces of a crowd milling around, murmuring amongst themselves. The camera pans back to reveal a side view of the bottom half of a white draped stretcher being shoved into the back of an ambulance. A grim faced paramedic slams the doors shut to reveal two very admonished looking boys standing off by themselves – Jack and Peter. Both are wrapped in woolen blankets. The camera follows the paramedic who walks up to a very distressed looking middle aged man. He puts his hand on the man's shoulder. Paramedic: We were really lucky. This could have been real bad. Real bad. The man (Tom's father) looks teary eyed but manages a smile. Father (shaking paramedic's hand): Thank you. Then Tom's father turns and considers the two boys. The paramedic walks out of the scene as the camera pans back to frame the boys from behind father's shoulder. Father walks up to them slowly. They avert their eyes and shuffle their feet. Father stops, then surges forward and wraps both boys in a tearful hug. Father: You're heroes, boys. Both of you, hear. Heroes. Camera fades out.