The Stand

Hello? Anyone alive out there?

Mr. Redman. May I call you Stu?

I think it's time someone tells me what the fuck's going on.

So, it's a virus? Yeah, some kind of superflu.

People are calling it Captain Trips.

Looks like we're the last men

standing here. Maybe anywhere.

You're telling me they're all dead? I am.

-We're the future. Hello, Frannie.

My name is Abagail Freemantle.

You come see me at Hemingford Home.

Oh, good. You're up.

I made breakfast.

Uh, smells great.

-Thank you. Sure, no problem.

Well.

Look who decided to join the land of the living.

Joe.

Joe, I'd like you to look at me, please.

When someone's speaking to us, we look them in the eye.

You know, why don't you guys start eating?

I'll start packing us up.

Sure.

What do you say? Want to go get our grub on?

-He still hasn't put it down. -That's good.

Get the feel. You want to be an axe man, you got to make

the guitar an extension of your hands, right?

Right. Come on.

We need to get on the road if we're gonna get to Boulder

before dark, so... Come on.

Come on, brother. Let's do it.

Welcome to the Boulder Free Zone!

All right.

Now...

which of one you is Larry Underwood?

Come on, Larry.

-Showtime. -Oh, fuck.

-Don't make me come in there. -Stacie!

I said I'm not fucking playing!

Larry, you're not fucking doing this to me again.

I booked you this gig, we agreed to do it.

-Now get your ass... -I agreed to play with my band!

Your band is sick because they're a bunch of pussies,

and that's not my fault!

-Hello? -Larry, you get your ass...

Dude, please tell me you're on your way.

Stacie! Give me a fucking second!

-I'll give you a second. -Fuck!

Mick, shut the fuck up and listen.

Darrell and Tommy came down with this fucking bug.

I don't... What?

You know what? Fuck you, too, then!

-Fuck. God...

I can't think with you beating on this door. Fuck!

I wouldn't beat on the door if you would come to the door.

-The show must go on, Larry. -There's no band,

so how the fuck are we gonna have a show, Stacie?

I've got it all figured out. They've got backing tracks

-all set up, ready to go. -Are you out of your mind?

I'm not singing karaoke to my own song.

Get off.

Hey, Ma.

Sorry, I, uh...

I had a drink in the back.

You had a drink?

Enjoy the show, Ma.

And the man you've all come to see tonight...

Larry Underwood.

Yeah! -Give it up.

Oh, man.

Wow.

Shit, this looks like my first show.

Uh...

I want to thank all of you who, uh, who made it out tonight.

The real New Yorkers, the ones who wouldn't let

a couple of sniffles

stop you from coming to a friend's album launch.

So, thank you, everybody.

Uh, ac-- Excuse me, miss?

Can-- You mind if I get a drink?

What can I get for you?

Actually, I'll take that drink, right there.

Perfect. Sorry, whoever's drink that was.

Yeah.

So, everyone who has a drink in their hand,

please, join me in a toast.

Here's to, uh, to Pocket Savior.

Pocket Savior. -Cheers.

Yeah!

Shit.

All right. So, you guys ready?

This is how "Baby, Can You Dig Your Man" sounded

before it was used to sell fucking cologne.

Bet you made a nice chunk of change

off that, didn't you, Lar?

Put you right on the map, huh?

Hey, Mrs. Underwood.

Remember me?

Of course, Wayne.

I used to hide my purse whenever you visited.

Wayne Stuckey, ladies and gents,

apparently high on his own supply,

which I'm pretty sure is against

the code of the candy man, right, Wayne?

Believe this fucking clown used to be my roommate?

We used to do blow all night...

Stop, Wayne, you're making me blush.

Dude!

...listening to my records.

Stole some, too, when he moved.

And that's not all he stole. Ain't that right, Lar?

Stacie, we don't have any fucking security?

You stole my hook and chorus, too,

-didn't you, you piece of shit? -Wayne. Wayne. Wayne, stop!

I'm gonna fuck you up...

Break it up, now.

Let's go. Come on.

Another martini.

You enjoying this, inmate?

Bunch of half-wit convicts treat you like a rock and roll star?

Boys in max do love a cop killer.

Hard to blame them.

Keep that up, you're liable to end up swallowing teeth.

Oh, I guess you must have forgot

about all those TV cameras that saw me get walked in here.

Any marks on me that weren't there before

and, Lucy, you gonna have some explaining to do, baby.

Thinking I might volunteer as a witness

when they give you the juice.

Hey.

Crazy.

I never been the "notorious outlaw" before.

Hmm.

Yeah, you are that.

Even put this goddamn flu outbreak onto page two.

-I'm in the newspaper? -Yeah, you are.

George Trask.

You can call me "Gorgeous."

Third degree burglary, criminal trespass,

possession of burglar tools.

Lloyd Henreid.

I was framed.

Y'all hold still, nobody gets hurt!

Here.

Get some money out of the cash register.

Get us some bills, baby. Some big bills.

Congratulations. You have the honor

of being held up by two genuine desperados.

-Genuine. -My name is Poke Freeman.

This is my protégé Lloyd Henreid.

We got lawmen from at least three states,

two federal agencies on our t...

-Yeah. -Fuck.

You okay?

Oh, fuck.

Gesundheit.

-Pokerized her, old buddy. -Oh, shit.

You fucking shot her.

No. Let's get the fuck out of here.

No. No, no, no.

He's seen our faces. He knows our names.

-No, no, no. -We got to Pokerize him, too.

-Poke, we don't have to... -No, no, no.

-Fucking do it. Poke him. -Let's get the fuck out of here.

-No. No. -Lloyd, yes. We got to Pokerize him.

Well, then, you kill him. I'm not gonna fucking kill him.

You shot her! You should be the one that shoots him!

-Please don't. -I don't have to fucking do it!

-Shut the fuck up! -I'm not gonna do it.

-No! No, no. -Pokerize him right now

or I'm gonna fucking Pokerize

the both of you.

-Okay. Okay. -That's it.

-I got, I got kids, man. Please, please... -Oh, yeah?

Fuck it. Just, you know...

I-I never shot nobody before.

Well, it's time to break your cherry, Lloyd.

You think I'm bullshitting?

Fucking do it.

-Oh, fuck. Shit. -Look out!

Don't move! Stand down.

-Stand down. -Don't shoot. I surrender.

-Hands behind your back! -I--

No...

Ooh, ah.

How do you know who I am?

How do you think?

Mother Abagail?

Shit.

I feel crazy saying her name out loud.

Well, then, we're all crazy, 'cause we all dreamt of her.

Every single person here, as far as I know.

And she told you I'd be coming? Me, specifically?

Before everyone started arriving, she made a list

of five names, people she wanted running the place.

-It was you and four others. -You one of the others?

-That's right. -I'm about the last person she ought to trust

-to run anything. -Why is that?

What were you up to before all this?

Mostly fucking things up for everyone,