Granite State
Title: Granite State

*Van pulls into parking lot of Best Quality Vacuum store. The extractor walks out and opens the garage door. He opens the van door*

The extractor: You can come on out.

*Saul steps out of the van carrying three suitcases*

Saul: It's an actual store.

The extractor: Mmhmm.

Saul: I guess I figured "vacuum cleaner repair" was a term of art.

*The extractor pulls down a blue background*

The extractor: If you would step right here on this blue spot, leave your luggage where it is for the moment.

*Saul walks over to the blue spot and fixes his hair*

Saul: That good?
The extractor: Sure.

Saul: Yeah, what about this? *points to nose*

The extractor: I'll photoshop that out.

Saul: Nebraska? What's in Nebraska?

The extractor: You. From now on. It's gonna take me some time to get your new situation fixed, until then you're gonna be staying here. I got a place downstairs, out of sight. It's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it's comfortable enough for short-term.

Saul: How short-term?

The extractor: Considering you've got your face up on buses and billboards all over town, I'm thinking two days. Maybe three. Only thing is, and I don't like to do this, but you'll have a bunkmate.

Saul: Oh, yeah, he's still here?

The extractor: For the moment. He's a special case, gonna take some doing.

Saul: How's he holdin' up?

The extractor: *turns on TV* You be the judge.

*Saul bends down to look at the TV. Walt is pacing the room angrily*

ASAC Ramey: *to Marie* We will find Hank. Steve too. They're out there and we're gonna find them. You have my word.
Agent: Sir.

*ASAC Ramey and the other agent get out of the car. The house appears to be broken into*

ASAC Ramey: *to other agent in car* Call it in and get her out of here. Move.

*Both ASAC Ramey and the other agent enter the house. Things are broken on the ground and all over the house as if someone were looking for something*

Jesse: *on video recording* I get to his door and I could hear music inside. Like, squeaky voices. And I thought, you know, maybe, I knocked on his door. The music stopped and he was right there. When he saw the gun, um, he thought. I don't know what he thought, he was just so scared.

Jack: Hey, Kenny, does this pussy cry through the entire thing? *laughs*

Kenny: Just watch.

Jesse: *on video recording* He kept saying that, you know you don't have to do this. His eyes were so big.

*Kenny fast-forwards the video*

Neo-Nazi: Such a bitch. He won't quit.

Jesse: *on video recording* Then we turn around and there is this kid on a dirt bike looking at us. Drew Sharp, that kid that went missing up in Whitehorse. And then out of nowhere, Todd, that Opie, dead-eyed piece of shit, pulls out a gun and shoots the kid.

Hank: *on video recording* And this is Todd Alquist we're talking about? He killed Drew Sharp?

Jesse: *on video recording* Boom. Like it was nothing.
*Kenny pauses the tape. Todd looks over with a big smile on his face. Jack leaves the house upset with a gun in his hand*

Todd: Uncle Jack. Hold up. Now, I think we should keep him for a while and get a couple cooks under our belt.

Jack: You seriously giving me this turn-the-other-cheek crap? He ratted you out, personally.

Todd: Well, we've still got 600 gallons of methylamine.

Jack: Meth? Who gives a shit about meth? We won the lottery here. We've got all the money in the world. You're talking to me about selling crank?

Todd: Well, this is millions, Uncle Jack. No matter how much you got, how do you turn your back on more?

Jack: You little son of a bitch.

*Jack grabs Todd playfully, laughing*

Jack: It's that Lydia woman, you're sweet on her, you little bastard. Hey, Kenny, you believe this?

Kenny: Hey, it's all about this right here, huh? *laughs*

Jack: Come on, you can do better! I mean, that one's so uptight she's probably got a wood-chipper for a coochie. Stick in down there you're pulling back a stump. *laughs* Aw, what the hell. The heart wants what the heart wants, right? Let's go watch some more of that cry baby rat, huh?

*They all go back into the house. Jesse is sitting in the pit holding the picture of Andrea and Brock. He pulls off the paperclip and uses it to try to break free of his handcuffs*

The extractor: How thick is it? This is mild steel? Uh huh. No, this would be cash.

*Walt is writing on a notepad while Saul stares at him. Walt takes a break to rub his injured hand. He looks over at Saul*

Walt: What?

Saul: Nothing.

Walt: Look, you know what. Make yourself useful. Give me a list of hitters, mercenaries. Yes, yes, I remember, you've got concerns. Don't worry, we'll take the time to vet them. Make sure there are no undercover cops on the team. Five should do it, providing they are the right men for the job.

Saul: I'm gonna hate myself for asking, but, uh, who are we hitting?

Walt: Jack Welker and his men. They murdered Hank, they stole my life's work.

Saul: I don't know any hitmen.

Walt: You know a guy who knows a guy. Just get me the contacts, anybody in that world. I'm paying top dollar, we'll find them.

Saul: You mind if I give you a nickel's worth of advice just for old time's sake? You're worried about your wife and kids. Don't leave. The way things are right now, some people, not me, mind you, but some people might say you're leaving her high and dry.

Walt: Some people would be ignorant on the facts. Some people wouldn't know that as far as the police are concerned, Skyler is a blameless victim.

*Saul sits back down, waving Walt off*

Walt: No, no, no, go ahead. Get it off your chest. Go on.

Saul: The phone call was a smart move, kudos to you. Odds are, it was recorded, it's gonna play great for a jury, it might even buy her a mistrial. In a year and a half. Until then, if they don't have you, they're going after her.

Walt: There's no point. She knows nothing.

Saul: Well, too bad for her then. She's got nothing to trade. I hate to be a downer here, but there are two DEA agents missing, presumed dead. You think the feds are gonna just let that go because you hit the ejector seat? First thing they're gonna do is they'll RICO your wife and kids out of the house. That condo is gone. Your bank account is frozen. Her picture's probably on TV right now next to yours. Who's gonna hire her?

Walt: Money's no problem.

Saul: Well, I don't mean to contradict you, but getting it to her? Impossible. The feds are just praying that she'll make contact. The Internet, the phones, it's all tapped. Hey, Mike was no dummy. But every time he tried to get his nest egg to his granddaughter, it ended up in Uncle Sam's pockets.

Walt: So you propose what?

Saul: Stay. Face the music. Hey, I mean how much time do you got left? You walk in with your head held high, you'll be the John Dillinger of the Metropolitan Detention Center. How bad is that? And you bring a barrel full of drug money? Maybe that soothes some troubled waters. Maybe they let your family stay in the house. After all, the house predates the criminal enterprise.

Walt: You think I wanna run?! This is the last thing that I want! This, this changes nothing. What I do, I do for my family. My money goes to my children. Not just this barrel, all of it! I'm going to kill Jack and his entire crew. And I'm going to take back what is mine and give it to my children and then AND ONLY THEN am I through. Do you understand?

*The extractor opens the door and walks in*

The extractor: Everything good?

Saul: Define good.

The extractor: *to Saul* You're set, time to go. *to Walt* You'll be a little longer, still workin' on transportation.

Walt: Change of plans. He's coming with me.

Saul: No. No, that's not.

Walt: We're going together. I can use him.

The extractor: I'll give you two a minute.

Saul: Hey, I'm a civilian. I'm not your lawyer anymore, I'm nobody's lawyer, the fun's over. From here on out, I'm mister low profile. Just another douchebag with a job and three pairs of Dockers. If I'm lucky, three months from now, best case scenario, I'm managing a Cinnabon in Omaha.

Walt: You're still part of this whether you like it or not.

Saul: I'm sorry, I don't think so.

*Walt stares at Saul and starts walking him back into the wall*

Walt: You remember what I told you? It's not over...unti-

*Walt begins coughing and falls onto the bed. Saul looks down at him*

Saul: It's over.

*Saul walks away as Walt continues to cough. Saul grabs his suitcases and leaves*

*There is a loud, screeching noise playing as Skyler sits at a desk with attorneys and stares forward. They're talking about Skyler's situation but she's seemingly not listening*

Attorney: Is she even listening? *to Skyler* Mrs. White. Are you following all this? Do you understand what's happening here?

Skyler: Yes. I understand. I understand I'm in terrible trouble. I understand that you will use everything in your power against me and my children unless, unless I give you Walt. But the truth is, I can't give you what you want. I don't know where he is.

Attorney: Alright, go and discuss this with your lawyer here. Rack your brain and hope you can come up with something we can use.

*Two officers are sitting in a car outside the White residence*

Woman on radio: 417.

Officer: 417, no activity.

*Skyler sits on the couch staring out the window while she smokes a cigarette and holds a drink in her hand. Holly cries out in the distance. Skyler walks towards the bedroom. Inside are three masked Neo-Nazis. One runs to cover her mouth*

Todd: *to Skyler* Ma'am, is there anybody else in the house? What about your son. If I go look in his room, am I gonna see him? He's not gonna pop out and surprise me? If this guy takes his hand away, are you gonna scream?

Skyler: *breathing heavily* He's at his friend's house. He's been there all week. Please. Please, don't hurt my baby. Please.

Todd: Ma'am.

Skyler: Please.

Todd: We got a lot of respect for your husband. It's just something we gotta straighten out. Look, we know you've been talking to the police and that's okay, you gotta do that. But you've seen some people. Like the lady who came into the car wash? The one with the black hair. Have you said anything about her? You sure about that?

Skyler: I didn't.

Todd: The police don't need to know anything about her.

*Skyler shakes her head*

Todd: Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to say it.

Skyler: I will not say anything about her, ever. I swear.

Todd: Okay. When we leave, you're not gonna go running to those police officers out front?

Skyler: No.

Todd: Okay. Okay. I just really don't want us coming back here.

*Todd looks at her one last time with his hand on her shoulder. He nods, then leaves with the other two Neo-Nazis. Skyler runs to Holly's crib where she's now crying*

*Todd takes a sip from his cup. Lydia walks into the restaurant and past him and sits behind him. Todd goes to get up*

Lydia: Don't. Stay where you are. We'll talk like this.

Todd: Okay. So that thing that we talked about, I went to Mr. and Mrs. White's house-

Lyda: You don't have to say the name.

Todd: Sure, and it went really good. The message was received loud and clear.

Lydia: The message? Yeah. Look. I know you did your best, I just think-

Waitress: Hi. What can I get you?

Lydia: Chamomile tea with soy milk, please. And I'll need more Stevia.

Waitress: Sure.

Lydia: *to Todd* The person we're discussing saw my face. You're not Western Union, Todd, we can't just settle with you sending messages.

Todd: Really, if you'd been there, I think you'd see it different. We threw a real scare into her. She seems like a nice lady watching out for her kids. So, you're not going to have a problem with her, I can pretty much guarantee it.

Lydia: I wish I had your certainty, but I'm not like you and your uncle. I'm just, I'm not used to this sort of risk. We're gonna have to take a break.

*Lydia grabs her purse and begins searching through it*

Todd: I have fifty pounds vacuum-packed and ready to go.

Lydia: And I wish you all the luck in the world with it.

Todd: It's 92%.

Lydia: I'm sorry?

Todd: 92%.

Lydia: Truly?

Todd: Tested it twice and it's blue just like before.

Lydia: 92? That's Heisenberg level. He's not with you?

Todd: Next best thing, Pinkman.

Lydia: They're looking for Pinkman.

Todd: Well, they're not gonna find him, he's with us and he's not going anywhere. Ms. Quayle, this is what your guys in Europe have been begging for, right? I just think we work together...good. We make a good team. I think it's kind of mutually good.

Lydia: 92%.

*Todd reaches forward and picks something off Lydia's back*

*Walt stumbles out of the propane truck*

The extractor: Mr. Lambert. Welcome to New Hampshire.

*Walt wheels his barrel of money into his new lodge*

Walt: Alright, let's have a look at this place.

The extractor: You got about a month's worth of food on hand. Most of it's canned goods, but there's steaks in the freezer. You got a generator outside, works on LP. Oughta be enough in the tank to last out the winter. It's only fifteen amps, but that oughta do for the lights, TV, and the freezer. That's a woodburner, oughta warm the place up pretty good, plus you can cook on it. On the TV front, the reception is pretty much nil. You've got some mountains in the way. Weather's right you might be able to catch Montreal, but mostly you'll be limited to DVDs.

Walt: *looking through the DVDs* Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. Two copies.

The extractor: I'm not much of a movie guy. I'll make a supply run next month, you want something else to watch, put it on the list.

Walt: Supply run. $50,000 for a trip to Costco.

The extractor: It's risk. And risk is what you're paying me for, not toilet paper. Risk and a 4400-mile round-trip. Mr. Lambert, my clients and I don't usually have an ongoing relationship. Normally, you and I would've gone our separate ways, but you're you.

Walt: Where's the phone?

The extractor: No phone. Up here, ice storms equal service calls equal you in cuffs.

Walt: Internet?

The extractor: Same deal. Also, satellite, cable TV, drop phone, car. You want news, I'll bring the Albuquerque papers. Whatever you need, just

*Walt and the extractor at the same time* Put it on the list.

Walt: Yeah. Look, I have business to conduct.

The extractor: Your business is your business. My business is keeping you out of custody. You are the target of a nationwide manhunt. Your face is all over TV. You are the hottest client I've ever had by far. That stands to reason, you've gotta keep out of sight.

Walt: And what's keeping me from walking out that gate?

The extractor: Nothing. There's a little one-horse town eight miles down the hill. There's not a thing on God's green earth that I could do to stop you from going down there. All I'm saying is, if you leave this place, you will get caught. And I gotta tell you. If I found out you've left the reservation, I won't be coming back. That is for my own safety, you understand?

Walt: Sure.

The extractor: You know how to work the stove? The flue can be tricky.

Walt: Yeah, I've got it.

The extractor: You paid good money for this. You've got two acres up here, lots of wood, nice, warm place. Seems to me just the spot for a man to rest up. Think on things. If you look around, it's kind of beautiful.

Walt: You're very helpful. Thank you.

*Walt walks away as the extractor gets into his propane truck*

The extractor: See you in a month.

*Walt opens up his barrel of money. He grabs a few handfuls and stuffs them into his coat pockets. He puts the top back on and looks at a black duffel bag. He reaches inside and pulls out his Heisenberg hat. Music begins playing as he puts it on and heads outside. He walks along the path to the front gate and opens it. He stares down the road for a bit then starts coughing. He closes the gate*

Walt: Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

*He walks back to the house. Inside the house, he lights a match, starts the wood burning stove, and warms up*

*Jesse is standing on a bucket, which is on top of his other things in an attempt to reach the bars up top and escape*

Neo-Nazi: Oh, so you're just too good to eat with the rest of us, huh?

Todd: It's not for me.

*Jesse jumps down off the bucket*

Neo-Nazi: Damn, man, seriously? It's not my chocolate-chip, is it? You're gonna spoil him!

*Todd removes the tarp*

Todd: *to Jesse* Hey, you awake?

Jesse: Huh? Yeah.

Todd: We had some Ben and Jerry's. There was peanut butter and AmeriCone Dream. I didn't know what you like, so I got you some of each.

*Todd lowers a bucket with ice cream down to Jesse*

Todd: There you go.

*Jesse takes the ice cream and Todd reels the bucket back in. Todd takes out a cigarette and lights it*

Todd: So, that batch that you just cooked. It was 96%. Kind of figured you deserved a little something.

Jesse: Thanks.

Todd: Well. Better get some sleep, tomorrow's gonna be a big day. Got a whole new batch.

Jesse: Hey, uh, Todd.

Todd: Yeah.

Jesse: You mind leaving the tarp off tonight?

Todd: It might get cold.

Jesse: No, I, I don't mind, I just wanna see the stars.

Todd: Sure. Okay.

Jesse: Thanks.

Todd: Goodnight, Jesse.

Jesse: Goodnight.

*Todd walks away and Jesse uses the paperclip to break out of his handcuffs again. He gets on top of the bucket and jumps up to the bars and manages to unlock the gate and climb out. He runs away and tries to escape. He runs past a camera and toward the gate with barbed wire. As he's climbing it, the Neo-Nazis surround him*

Jesse: Do it! Do it! Just kill me now and get it over with because there's no way I'm doing one more cook for you psycho fucks!

*Todd walks towards Andrea's house. He rings her doorbell and Andrea answers*

Andrea: Yes?

Todd: Hi, ma'am, how you doing tonight? You're Andrea, right?

Andrea: How can I help you?

Todd: You know Jesse Pinkman, right? I'm a friend of his, my name's Todd. Sorry to bother you so late, it's nice to meet you.

Andrea: How is Jesse, is he okay?

Todd: Yeah, he's okay. Actually, I brought him with me.

Andrea: Jesse's here?

Todd: Yeah, he's right over there in that truck.

*Andrea walks out onto the porch. Jesse is in the truck slamming against the door. Todd checks to make sure the coast is clear and takes out his gun*

Todd: Just so you know, this isn't personal.

*Todd shoots Andrea in the back of the head. Jesse screams in agony in the truck. Todd opens the door and gets back in the truck*

Jack: Woah. Hey! Settle down. Settle down. Hey, remember. There's still a kid.

*Walt walks towards the gate as the extractor approaches. Walt opens the gate*

*Inside, Walt cuts open the stack of newspapers and gets one to read*

The extractor: I brought you a couple cases of Ensure maybe to put a little weight on you.

Walt: Jesus, I can barely read this.

The extractor: Almost forgot. Without a prescription, I had to take an educated guess and shotgun it, one of these oughta come close.

Walt: Oh. Did you check on them? Is Skyler in a better place?

The extractor: Nah, she's still at that place off Eubank. Kids are both still with her for the moment. There's no court date yet. News was talking about a grand jury, but didn't say when. I saw her public defender on TV, looks like a deer in the headlights. I think I got socks older than him.

Walt: What are they doing for money?

The extractor: She's doing taxi dispatch part-time. Leaves the baby with the neighbor when she goes in. I saw her shopping one time, she looks pretty good. And she's using her maiden name, I wouldn't take it personally under the circumstances. Those working for ya?

Walt: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The extractor: I took a run by your old house, the auction is still pending. They put a fence up around it.

Walt: They put up a fence?

The extractor: Seems like the place got to be kind of a tourist attraction. Kids breaking in. Neighbors complained, so the bank put up a fence. *holding a box* You ready?

Walt: Hm? Yeah.

The extractor: Sorry about last time, should go better now. I watched a couple of YouTube videos, it's all about finding the vein.

Walt: Give it to me, I'll do it.

*Walt tries to insert the IV into his arm*

Walt: Here, you do it.

The extractor: Make a fist, tight, there we go. Alright, let's just stick, that's it. Okay, hey, pretty good, there we go. I think I had it worse at my last physical. *gets up to leave* I will see you on, let's see. Afternoon of the fifteenth.

Walt: Stay a little longer?

The extractor: Yeah, I got a long trip ahead of me.

Walt: Two hours? I'll give you another $10,000. Please.

The extractor: 10,000? One hour.

*Walt agrees*

The extractor: Cards? Alright, well, the game will be seven-card. I'll deal since you are...encumbered.

Walt: One of these days when you come up here, I'll be dead. My money over there, what happens to it then? What if I asked you to give it to my family? Would you do it?

The extractor: If I said yes, would you believe me? You wanna cut the cards?

Walt: No.

The extractor: A king. Two kings.

*Walt is lying in his bed. He starts coughing and his wedding ring slides off his finger. He gets up and picks it up. He takes some twine and ties his ring around his neck, coughing. He looks over at the Ensure boxes and gets up. He opens one up, empties it out, and puts some money in. He takes the box full of money and walks to the gate. He unlocks the gate and hesitates to leave. He walks toward town with the box*

Carmen: *over the PA* Flynn White to the principal's office, please.

*Junior gets up*

Carmen: *to Junior* I'm sorry to pull you out of class. It's your aunt Marie, it sounds very important. You can take it in here, okay? *into phone* Here he is.

Junior: *to Carmen* Thank you. *into phone* Hey, Aunt Marie, what's going on?

Woman at bar: Hold on a sec, honey.

*She hands the phone off to Walt, who gives her some money. A hockey game is playing in the background*

Walt: Son, it's me. Please, don't let on. Carmen's nearby, right? She cannot know. Son, are you there?

Junior: Yes.

Walt: It's so good to hear your voice. I, I, uh. Son, the things that they're saying about me. I did wrong, I made some terrible mistakes. But the reasons were always. Things happened that I never intended...I never intended. Listen, son, we don't have much time. Is Louis's family still at 4848 Newcomb? Son, your friend, Louis Corbett. Does his family still live in that same place up on Newcomb?

Junior: Yeah, yeah.

Walt: Okay, good. He's, he's a good kid, he's like you, he'll understand. I'm sending Louis a package. Now, it's addressed to Louis, but it's for you, your mother, and your sister. There's money inside. About $100,000, okay? I think. It's all that I could fit in the box. It has to be a secret. If anyone says a word, the police will take it. I wanted to give you so much more, but this is all I could do, do you understand? Son? Can you hear me? Do you understand?

Junior: You want to send money.

Walt: Yes. Good. Good, good. So you'll talk to Louis, right?

Junior: You killed Uncle Hank! You killed him!

Walt: Wait, no. Wait, son, please.

Junior: What you did to Mom, you asshole.

Walt: Listen to me, you've got to listen to me.

Junior: Just shut up. Just stop it, stop it. I don't want anything from you. I don't give a shit.

Walt: You need this money, your mother. Your mother needs this money.

Junior: You killed Uncle Hank. You killed him.

Walt: It can't all be for nothing! Please. Please.

Junior: No, no, what you did. Shut up. Shut up. Will you just, just leave us alone. You asshole! Why are you still alive? Why don't you just, just die already, just die.

*Junior hangs up the phone. Walt calls the DEA*

Agent on phone: DEA, Albuquerque district office, how may I direct your call?

Walt: I'd like to speak to the agent in charge of the Walter White investigation.

Agent on phone: Who may I say is calling?

Walt: Walter White.

*Walt drops the phone and walks over to the bar*

Agent on phone: Hello? Hello? Sir? Sir, are you still there?

Bartender: You ready for that drink now?

Walt: Dimple Pinch. Neat.

Bartender: You got it.

*Bartender pours him a glass of whiskey. Walt takes a sip while the bartender changes the channel*

Walt: Would you, would you, would you go back? Please.

*Bartender changes channel*

Walt: There.

Bartender: What, this?

Walt: Yeah.

Gretchen Schwartz: *on TV* Exactly. We're thrilled with the way things turned out.

Charlie Rose: *on TV* But just yesterday, your charity, the Gretchen and Elliott Schwartz foundation, announced a twenty-eight million dollar grant for drug abuse treatment centers throughout the southwest.

Elliott Schwartz: *on TV* Charlie, the southwest is our home and we couldn't just ignore what's going on in our own backyard.

Charlie Rose: But I'm sure you're aware there are people who suggest other motives. Andrew R. Sorkin of the New York Times wrote a column suggesting that the grant was a kind of publicity maneuver to shore up the stock price of Gray Matter Technologies because of your association with Walter White.

Elliott Schwartz: Well, that's not exactly what I-

Charlie Rose: To cleanse yourself, so to speak, of having a methamphetamine kingpin as co-founder of your company.

Elliott Schwartz: Charlie, I'm glad you brought that up. I have to believe that the investing public understands that we're talking about a person who was there early on, but who had virtually nothing to do with the creation of the company and still less to do with growing it into what it is today.

Charlie Rose: So, what was Walter White's contribution?

Elliott Schwartz: You know, to be honest. Honey?

Gretchen Schwartz: The company name.

Elliott Schwartz: The company name. We came up with it by combining our names, Schwartz means black. Black plus white makes gray.

Charlie Rose: Hence Gray Matter Technologies.

Elliott Schwartz: Exactly. As far as I can recall, his contribution begins and ends right there.

Charlie Rose: There are continued reports of blue methamphetamine, considered his signature product, throughout the southwest, and some evidence of reaching as far as Europe. So, my question is, is Walter White still out there?

Gretchen Schwartz: No, he's not.

Charlie Rose: You sound very sure.

Gretchen Schwartz: I am. I can't speak to this Heisenberg that people refer to, but whatever he became, the sweet, kind, brilliant man that we once knew long ago. He's gone.

Charlie Rose: But to be absolutely clear-

*Breaking Bad theme begins playing loudly as Walt stares forward. Police arrive at the bar and head inside. The bartender is standing in the corner, Walt's cup of whiskey is sitting on the table alone*