SuperherO​ SUN​MAN ®​

​

EXT. STRETCH OF CALIFORNIA BEACH BY PACIFIC OCEAN - MIDMORN

In short breezy blue dress, matching pumps swaying by strap
ends held in one hand, Kay, mid twenties, fetching, meanders
ocean foam along edge of white sand beach. She peers inland
to dilapidated Airstream trailer backed by sheer cliff-face.
Clasping shoes tightly under an armpit, she turns toward the
trailer, resolutely but measuredly strides in beeline for it.
Near trailer’s dented door, she hears large sounding dog barking
behind it. She stops at door. Inside, dog whimpers. Standing
there, her emerald eyes implore door to open of its own.

KAY:
Come on Sky, open! Know it’s me.
 

She hears nothing but dog inside scratching at door eagerly.
 

KAY:
You’d let me in Beaut, um could..
 

She laughs. Staring at yet immobile door, she frowns.
 

KAY:
You are not home, okay, cause..
 

Nothing. She fishes annoyed for something in her bra straps.
Key’s retrieved in her fingers. She inserts it in lock, turns
knob, pulls. Door sticks. She yanks on it with all her might,
stumbles backward when it flings open, bangs off own frame.
 

KAY

Have got fix, that!..(notices quizzical dog)​

No don’t expect you. So where’s Sky
- guy’s never around when you...
 

..her annoyed eyes spying a land-line phone receiver suspended

by cord off edge of an end table next the back wall. Dog
peers around her looking for Sky, is confused seeing no-one.​

​

KAY:

As left in the dark as me, um?

​

She rubs his head, walks in the trailer. Dog turns, follows.
Kay gazes at a couple rows of upright, few deep surfboards
stacked neatly in corner of left and back wall. Skateboards
lay aligned in racks by them. Rest of interior lies in chaos.
 

KAY:
Can’t use surfing as ’cuse. Boards
here. Less made okay another? Can’t
of got a new gal trying latch, on?
 

Walking, pondering, she trips on part of a parachute overflowing
its backpack on the floor, rest untidily stuffed in.
Lying beside it is a slick fabric, blue and red, jumpsuit.
 

KAY:
Sure hope not so whack careless
when got this like properly packed?



Searing glint of sun reveals tangle of tipped over trophies,
forming a pile against the left wall. She squats over them,
picks up topmost trophy, for a world surfing championship -
Sky Anderson inscribed on it. Another’s for skateboarding.
 

KAY:
Whole world awed in your hands.
Seemed. Til got sick of it, all..
 

Kay observes top of a poster, rest unseen behind a tall bookcase,
mid back wall. Part visible shows Sky’s head in helmet,
shoulders, buffeting in free-fall, early dawn sky above. It’s
captioned: Sky, sweet stunt LA - ..enough to recall memories.
 

KAY:
So glad never saw that! Hard ‘nuff
to see the film. All so gnarly the
drama got me in after, even so..
(heart pounding, laughs)
Sic rush, that part alone!
 

Right of poster, she sees overtop a small cube refrigerator,
the large framed photograph of Sky next identical twin brother
Jason, each with a hand with v shaped fingers posed in
behind, and up above, back of each other’s head. Below is
small framed photograph entitled Jason: One wicked bikester -
of Jason, twenty foot sky high on motor-cross bike flung off
lip of a bike racecourse’s steep inclined dirt mogul.

Propped atop cube fridge are more photos. Her eyes seize on
one of the brothers, but thirteen, standing together, too, in
foreground, dark haired sis, Jackie, six, squeezed in-between
them. Their parents stand behind. Dad back of Sky, has a hand
on Sky’s arm, mom behind Jason resides one her’s on his head.
Kay’s gaze strays down to lone picture taped to fridge’s surface,
her and Sky, early twenties, kissing, one eye of Sky’s
winking mischievously at the camera. Kay tisks, then smiles.

Coming closer, her foot snubs a book on the floor. She looks
down at forties something face of Sky’s dad, reads title: David
Anderson, Life Lived Beyond the Blue Sky, By Gloria Anderson.
Underneath title is: Genius. Extreme Engineer. Space
Colony Visionary, Adventurer, Husband, Dad, Missing Person.
Kay picks it up, puts it in a gap in the bookcase. Intrigued
by a black spine book, she pulls it out, reads title.

KAY:
Space Colonies, Galactic Transport
and Communications, Alien and Human
Design Concepts. By David Anderson.
(shakes head awed)
Way totally off the rad deep end
roots in your family, Sky....

Ticking clock beats heavy in silence. She looks for, spots,
above Sky’s messed up bed along the right wall, the wall
clock, its face image of the sun, long, yellow, metal spear
rays poking out from it. Suspended under it is a tides chart.
Calender, tack hung next clock, is turned to September 2011.

KAY:
Swear um sun, you, tighter than us.
Know them tides like as much feel
the touch of your surfboard’s skin.
 

She surveys untidy bed, discerns a bunch of stuff under it.
 

KAY:
Gone all major sketchy..
 

She kneels to explore - more accolades. A plaque declares Sky
as U.S. Junior Surfing Champion, Nineteen Ninety Nine. She
scans piled atop each other more plaques, turned onto backs.
Corner of a large scrapbook deep under the bed fixates her.
She reaches for it, pulls it back to her. She sits on floor
in a lotus pose, on her folded legs lies out scrapbook flat.

She flips over cover, exposing first page. Posted there,
paperclips held, is an L.A. Times, lower front page clipping,
along with torn swath across paper’s topmost section dated:
July Thirtieth, Nineteen Ninty-Six. The article clippings
headline declares: David Anderson whereabouts yet unknown.

First line of article reads: No clues have been found in the
search for renown space visionary and adventurer David
Anderson, who disappeared two weeks ago today. Police suspect
possible foul play but not ruled out an intentional act.
Police spokeswoman Diane Tolls stated: “Be not the first time
he’d have set out on an exploit, not told anyone.”

She musingly rubs finger over the words. Stymied she flips to
next page, to posted L.A. Times photo dated Two Thousand Six:
Sky, Jason, both beaming, emerging from a courthouse. It’s
captioned: “Anderson Twins spend night in jail after ruckus.”

EXT. BEACH, REWOUND BACK FEW MINUTES - MID MORNING REWOUND

Same as before, Kay, ocean-side, gazes in-shore to trailer,
turns, heads there. View behind, on her to trailer in distance
zooms few times with increasing magnification, decreasing
frame of view, on by her to close-up of trailer’s window.
Curtain moves slightly til slightly drawn, is pulled back
with constrained little apparent motion. Hear voice inside..

VOICE INSIDE (SKY) :
Hey Beaute, hold the chill down for
me. Got to scram.. .
 

There’s the sound of someone in the trailer zipping a knapsack,
moment later a floor hatch opening, closing..
 

Seen as before Kay near trailer, this time from vantage point
a distance away, off one side, from behind an eight foot high
boulder, view slightly swaying as through someone’s eyes...

INT. L.A. CLUB TIGHT ON SKY’S BACK - VIGNETTE 2, MONTH LATER
SKY (V.O. TO TBA )

So made off in wick of time. Way
Kay walked meant business, can be a
handful. Give a guy some O-two.
Man, but how sweet she was looking.
A gas, her waiting for the door to
just open wide.. . Yeah right, so
been a year whiling away. Like had
point there. Didn’t want hear..