7263 lines
249 KiB
Plaintext
7263 lines
249 KiB
Plaintext
|
" T E R M I N A T O R "
|
||
|
|
||
|
by
|
||
|
|
||
|
James Cameron
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
Registered WGAw
|
||
|
|
||
|
Fourth Draft
|
||
|
April 20, 1983
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
A1 TITLE SEQUENCE - SLITSCAN EFFECT A1
|
||
|
|
||
|
1 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 1
|
||
|
|
||
|
Silence. Gradually the sound of distant traffic becomes
|
||
|
audible. A LOW ANGLE bounded on one side by a chain-link
|
||
|
fence and on the other by the one-story public school build-
|
||
|
ings. Spray-can hieroglyphics and distant streetlight sha-
|
||
|
dows. This is a Los Angeles public school in a blue collar
|
||
|
neighborhood.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE BETWEEN SCHOOL BUILDINGS, where a trash dumpster looms
|
||
|
in a LOW ANGLE, part of the clutter behind the gymnasium.
|
||
|
A CAT enters FRAME. CAMERA DOLLIES FORWARD, prowling with
|
||
|
him through the landscape of trash receptacles and shadows.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON CAT, which freezes, alert, sensing something just
|
||
|
beyond human perception.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A sourceless wind rises, and with it a keening WHINE.
|
||
|
Papers blow across the pavement.
|
||
|
The cat YOWLS and hides under the dumpster.
|
||
|
Windows rattle in their frames.
|
||
|
The WHINE intensifies, accompanied now by a wash of frigid
|
||
|
PURPLE LIGHT. A CONCUSSION like a thunderclap right over-
|
||
|
head blows in all the windows facing the yard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - CAT, its eyes are wide as the glare dies.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
1A/FX ANGLE - DUMPSTER 1A/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
ELECTRICAL DISCHARGES arc from the dumpster to a water
|
||
|
faucet and climb a drain pipe like a Jacob's Ladder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
2 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 2
|
||
|
|
||
|
SLOW PAN as the sound of stray electrical CRACKLING subsides.
|
||
|
FRAME comes to rest on the figure of a NAKED MAN kneeling,
|
||
|
faced away, in the previously empty yard.
|
||
|
He stands, slowly.
|
||
|
The man is in his late thirties, tall and powerfully built,
|
||
|
moving with graceful precision.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - MAN, his facial features reiterate the power of his
|
||
|
body and are dominated by the eyes, which are intense, blue
|
||
|
and depthless. His hair is military short.
|
||
|
|
||
|
This man is the TERMINATOR.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He glances down, taking calm inventory of himself, and
|
||
|
notices that a fine white ash covers his skin. He brushes
|
||
|
at it unconcernedly as he walks toward the fence, scanning
|
||
|
his surroundings.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
2A/FX CRANE SHOT - SCHOOLYARD/CITY - NIGHT 2A/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA MOVES UP as Terminator approaches the schoolyard fence
|
||
|
beyond which is an embankment rolling down in darkness to the
|
||
|
cityscape below. The school is perched at the edge of a pro-
|
||
|
montory offering a respectable view of the urban sprawl teem-
|
||
|
ing and glistening under a sullen sky. The night clouds are
|
||
|
shot through with occasional flashes of LIGHTNING, presaging
|
||
|
a thunderstorm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator stands, hands on hips in prefect symmetry, gazing
|
||
|
down at the city as the CAMERA REACHES FULL HEIGHT.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
3 EXT. PLAYGROUND - NIGHT 3
|
||
|
|
||
|
A beer bottle SMASHES on the ground. PULL BACK to include
|
||
|
its ex-owner and his two compatriots, YOUTH GANG MEMBERS,
|
||
|
lounging on the jungle gym of a deserted playground. They
|
||
|
sport nondescript PUNK REGALIA...torn T-shirts, fatigue
|
||
|
pants, combat boots or high-top sneakers, leather jackets.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The leader notices something and sits up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LEADER
|
||
|
(pointing)
|
||
|
Hey, hey...what's wrong with
|
||
|
this picture?
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - REVERSE, seen past the lounging toughs, Terminator
|
||
|
walks naked into a pool of streetlight, striding purpose-
|
||
|
fully toward them.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - OVER TERMINATOR'S SHOULDER, as he approaches them.
|
||
|
They slide from their perches and drop easily to the ground
|
||
|
liquid shadows.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LEADER
|
||
|
Nice night for a walk, eh?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator stops right in front of them.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
(without inflec-
|
||
|
tion)
|
||
|
Nice night for a walk.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They surround him, all swagger and malign good humor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SECOND PUNK
|
||
|
Washday tomorrow, huh? Nothing
|
||
|
clean, right?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator eyes them without expression, unhurried.
|
||
|
Reptilian.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
Nothing clean. Right.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LEADER
|
||
|
This guy's a couple bricks
|
||
|
short.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator turn to the second punk, ignoring the
|
||
|
others.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
Your clothes. Give them to me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The punks exchange glances, dismayed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
(coldly)
|
||
|
Now.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SECOND PUNK
|
||
|
(bracing)
|
||
|
Fuck you, asshole.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
Without warning Terminator hammer-punches him in the temple
|
||
|
with blinding speed. The blow flings him with a CLANG into
|
||
|
the jungle gym. He drops to the ground in a still heap,
|
||
|
eyes open, twitching.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The leader whips out his SWITCHBLADE and slashes in one
|
||
|
motion. Terminator ducks back and catches the knife-
|
||
|
wielder's wrist in an inhuman grip. Then he punches the
|
||
|
leader with piledriver force just below the breastbone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - PAVEMENT, as the knife clatters down. The punk's
|
||
|
combat boots are on tiptoe, barely touching the ground.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - TWO SHOT, Terminator and the leader are close
|
||
|
together as if dancing, but motionless. Their bodies are in
|
||
|
total shadow. The punk's eyes are wide, his veins distended
|
||
|
with an agonizing pressure. Terminator jerks his fist back
|
||
|
with a WET SOUND and the other drops OUT OF FRAME.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The last tough is stumbling away, gaping with terror. He
|
||
|
backs into a chainlink fence, turns to run along it, finds
|
||
|
he is in a corner.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator takes a step toward him, his gaze ominous.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The punk begins shakily stripping off his clothes.
|
||
|
Thunder peals overhead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
4 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 4
|
||
|
|
||
|
A light RAIN begins to fall.
|
||
|
Terminator emerges onto the street from the playground,
|
||
|
pausing in the pool of light under a streetlight to hike
|
||
|
the collar of the punk's jacket.
|
||
|
The rain streams down over his face, running into
|
||
|
and over his eyes. They do not blink.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
5 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 5
|
||
|
|
||
|
Another part of the city. Seedy apartments and storefronts.
|
||
|
The streets glisten, hissing with sporadic late night traffic.
|
||
|
SLOW PAN AND DOLLY into the mouth of a narrow alley lined
|
||
|
with trash containers and fire escapes. From a recessed
|
||
|
doorway, two filthy legs sprawl out onto the wet pavement.
|
||
|
An angry, inarticulate DRUNKARD'S MONOLOGUE rises occasionally
|
||
|
above the rain sounds.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - DOORWAY, The derelict rouses from his bitter stupor
|
||
|
as a brilliant purple glare lights up the wet brickwork
|
||
|
around him. A shockwave hurls trash into the air.
|
||
|
Painted over windows shatter.
|
||
|
Rat scurry, blinded.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A FIGURE drops INTO FRAME as if out of the sky and smacks
|
||
|
the pavement with a muddy splash.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - DERELICT, as he blinks at the fading glare, amazed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A NAKED MAN, compact and muscular, rises in a defensive
|
||
|
crouch. KYLE REESE is 22, but his face has been aged by
|
||
|
ordeal, the mouth hard, eyes grim. A crinkled burn scar
|
||
|
traverses one side of his face from chin to forehead. Other
|
||
|
scars, from burns and bullets, mar his hard-muscled body.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The rain washes a fine coating of white ash from his skin
|
||
|
as electrical ARCS lace back and forth between the fire
|
||
|
escapes behind him, HISSING and SPUTTERING. The sound
|
||
|
fades, then stops altogether, to be replaced by a rising
|
||
|
scream of animal agony.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese lurches to his feet and sprints across the alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
5A/FX OMITTED 5A/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
6 OMITTED 6
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
7 EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT 7
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA MOVES WITH REESE as he leaps to the fire escape and
|
||
|
clambers up to the first landing to crouch beside another
|
||
|
NAKED MAN who appears to be entangled in the ironwork. The
|
||
|
man is contorted with pain as his screams die to a shivering
|
||
|
gasp. CLOSER ANGLE reveals that he has been skewered through
|
||
|
the abdomen by the horizontal iron slats and through the
|
||
|
shoulder by a railing. He has materialized in the same
|
||
|
space occupied by the fire escape structure. The figure
|
||
|
slumps, motionless.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese quickly checks for signs of life. The man is dead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese descend to the alley floor and crosses to the drunk
|
||
|
huddled in the doorway.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A pair of flamboyantly dressed women, obviously working
|
||
|
girls, passes by the alley mouth. They do a double take
|
||
|
when they see Reese, but walk on without breaking stride,
|
||
|
completely jaded. He's certainly not a potential customer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese crouches down as if to speak to the drunk.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DERELICT
|
||
|
Say, buddy...did you see a
|
||
|
real bright light?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
8 EXT. ALLEY/SAME - NIGHT 8
|
||
|
|
||
|
A brilliant white glare stabs into the alley mouth as an
|
||
|
LAPD cruiser glides slowly by on the street. The search-
|
||
|
light illuminates the figure of Reese, crouching over the
|
||
|
sprawled drunk, just pulling on the other's trousers.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The cruiser chirps to a stop. The doors fly open and two
|
||
|
cops leap out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FIRST COP
|
||
|
Hold it, right there!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese hitches his pants and bolt like a shot. The cops
|
||
|
draw their guns and race into the alley after him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HANDHELD CAMERA or PANAGLIDE, rushing with Reese along the
|
||
|
narrow alley. He vaults a pile of tumbled trashcans.
|
||
|
Whips around a corner. Leaps the hood of a parked car in
|
||
|
the cross alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING COPS, as they snake through the night
|
||
|
maze.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
9 EXT. CROSS ALLEY - NIGHT 9
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE WITH REESE as he hits a chain link gate at a
|
||
|
dead run and scrambles over it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
10 EXT. ALLEY JUNCTION - NIGHT 10
|
||
|
|
||
|
WHIP PAN ON COPS, skidding to a stop at the corner in time
|
||
|
to see Reese vault the fence. They separate.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOLLY WITH SECOND COP, as he runs to the gate.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
11 EXT. ALLEY/NEARBY - NIGHT 11
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW PANAGLIDE WITH REESE, running full tilt, displaying
|
||
|
incredible agility.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE'S POV, the alley walls blur by. The view of a hot-
|
||
|
wired rat in an urban maze.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, CAMERA hugging him as he sprints and turns,
|
||
|
alternately front-lit, side-lit and silhouetted as the
|
||
|
electric glare of the city wheels about him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - ALLEY MOUTH, Reese flashes though intermittent
|
||
|
cross-lighting in the B.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Another unit arrives out front and Reese melts back into
|
||
|
the alley, only to see a cop round the corner behind him.
|
||
|
Sandwiched. Reese crashes into a steel door, rending the
|
||
|
lock, and vanishes into the darkness within.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The newly arrived cops are a K-9 unit. They open the back
|
||
|
door of the squad car to release a large black Doberman.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
12 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 12
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese finds himself among the display racks of a discount
|
||
|
department store. A searchlight stabs in the front
|
||
|
window as he dashes into the maze of aisles.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Three cops enter behind him through the shattered door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH REESE, as he crab-runs low among the
|
||
|
moving shadows where flashlights quarter the darkness. He
|
||
|
bolts the open space behind a display window. Sees the
|
||
|
outside searchlight sweep toward him. Freezes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - REESE, his feral face frozen among the smooth-
|
||
|
featured, smiling mannequins. As the light passes, Reese
|
||
|
silently moves on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - COP, passing the end of a long aisle B.G. while in
|
||
|
the F.G. a hand ENTERS FRAME, removing a knit shirt from a
|
||
|
hanger. Reese slips the shirt on quietly and does a fast
|
||
|
crab-walk across the aisles to melt into the other racks
|
||
|
and shadows, CAMERA MOVING LOW with him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
13 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE/AISLE - NIGHT 13
|
||
|
|
||
|
With a shocking GROWL the police dog hurtles out of the
|
||
|
shadows, LEAPING RIGHT AT CAMERA.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - REESE AND DOG, a dark blur with teeth, extremely
|
||
|
Doberman, flies toward Reese. He spins. Catches it by
|
||
|
the throat in mid-air. Arcs it to the floor with unflinching
|
||
|
precision.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - DOBERMAN, suddenly on its back and held by the throat,
|
||
|
THE DOG YELPS and stares at Reese, who leans very close.
|
||
|
Inches from its eyes he fixes it with a gaze of uncompromis-
|
||
|
ing dominance. Some ancient communication seems to pass
|
||
|
between the two.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese releases the animal and turns his back on it, selecting
|
||
|
a long overcoat from a rack. The dog backs away from him,
|
||
|
stiff-legged and confused.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
14 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 14
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRACKING WITH REESE as he rounds a corner on the run, still
|
||
|
shrugging into his long coat.
|
||
|
Running smack at him is another cop, gun aimed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Without slowing, Reese leaps toward him, twisting in mid-air
|
||
|
like a cat. The cop FIRES. Misses. Goes down under Reese's
|
||
|
tackle and they slide together on the polished floor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Before they even come to rest Reese snatches the cop's gun,
|
||
|
aiming it at the other's face two-handed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
What day is it? The date...
|
||
|
|
||
|
COP
|
||
|
Thursday...uh...May twelfth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(viciously)
|
||
|
What year?
|
||
|
|
||
|
A SHOT whines off the metal side of an escalator behind
|
||
|
Reese's head. He vaults the escalator rail, leaving the
|
||
|
amazed cop lying on the floor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese bounds up the frozen steps, pocketing the .38 Police
|
||
|
Special in his coat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Cops dash through the maze of aisles, converging at the
|
||
|
escalators.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
15 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE/SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT 15
|
||
|
|
||
|
WHIP PANNING WITH REESE, as he hurtles between displays.
|
||
|
He stops for a moment beside a rack of shoes. Slaps one of
|
||
|
a pair of tennis shoes sole-to-sole against his bare foot.
|
||
|
Too small. Another. Holding the shoes he runs on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
16 EXT. SECOND FLOOR FIRE ESCAPE LANDING - NIGHT 16
|
||
|
|
||
|
A door opens quietly and Reese slips out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA TRACKS WITH HIM as he moves like a panther along the
|
||
|
narrow catwalk. TILT DOWN to include the first LAPD cruiser
|
||
|
parked at the mouth of the alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
17 EXT. ALLEY/STREET - NIGHT 17
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese drops cat-like beside the unattended police car.
|
||
|
Cautiously, he opens the door of the cruiser, removes the
|
||
|
RIOT GUN, an Ithaca pump model, from the dash rack and slips
|
||
|
it under his coat. Cradled in a vertical position, the
|
||
|
shortened weapon is virtually invisible.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He walks out onto the street and away, unhurriedly, an
|
||
|
innocuous pedestrian soon lost in the rain.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
18 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 18
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese enters a telephone booth. Harsh light rakes across
|
||
|
his face, outlining the long scar. He opens the directory,
|
||
|
leafs through it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - MACRO ON PAGE, Reese's finger slides down a column.
|
||
|
Stops beside the following listings in the big metropolitan
|
||
|
white pages:
|
||
|
CONNOR, SARAH
|
||
|
CONNOR, SARAH ANN
|
||
|
CONNOR, SARAH J.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
19 EXT. CITY STREET - MORNING 19
|
||
|
|
||
|
The night's rain has given way to a typical L.A. morning
|
||
|
of diffuse sunlight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH A GIRL on a MOPED as she zips through traffic.
|
||
|
SARAH CONNER is 19, small and delicate-featured. Pretty in
|
||
|
a flawed, accessible way. She doesn't stop the party when
|
||
|
she walks in, but you'd like to get to know her. Her vulner-
|
||
|
able quality masks a strength even she doesn't know exists.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah maneuvers nimbly, apparently in a hurry.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
20 EXT. BIG BOB'S RESTRAUNT - DAY 20
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah buzzes into the parking lot of Big Bob's Family
|
||
|
Restaurant and chains the moped to the icon of Big Bob
|
||
|
himself. The fiberglass cherub holds up his mammoth
|
||
|
hamburger in perpetual homage to whatever deity watches
|
||
|
out for fat kids.
|
||
|
Sarah removes a stack of college textbooks from the luggage
|
||
|
carrier and tuns to go into the restaurant.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(to Big Bob)
|
||
|
Watch this for me, big buns.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
21 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA 21
|
||
|
|
||
|
HIGH WIDE SHOT prominently featuring a VIDEO SURVEILLANCE
|
||
|
CAMERA F.G. as Sarah enters below. She passes under another
|
||
|
video eye as she crosses the main floor of the wholesomely
|
||
|
appointed eatery. Sarah goes through the swinging STAFF
|
||
|
doors under a third camera.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
22 INT. MANAGER'S OFFICE 22
|
||
|
|
||
|
The office is closet-like, lit by the glow of several
|
||
|
security monitors. CHUCK BREEN, day manager, pimply and
|
||
|
officious,watches Sarah in an overhead view of the service
|
||
|
corridor. He punches a switch and reaches for a microphone
|
||
|
on a studio gooseneck.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
23 INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR 23
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah glances up as Breen's voice rasps from a ceiling speaker.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN (V.O.)
|
||
|
Sarah?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She answers the empty hallway.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Yes, Chuck?
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
Come to the office, please.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She turns back toward the office door at the end of the
|
||
|
corridor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
24 MANAGER'S OFFICE 24
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah opens the door to Breen's closet control center.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Mission control to Chuck,
|
||
|
come in...
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
(without looking
|
||
|
up)
|
||
|
You're late.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is undaunted.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Aren't I worth waiting for?
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
Not really. Do you think you
|
||
|
can get here on time if I put
|
||
|
you on the floor as a waitress?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(grinning)
|
||
|
I don't know. I kinda had
|
||
|
my heart set on being a
|
||
|
cashier the rest of my life.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
The pay's the same but you'll
|
||
|
make more in tips.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Thanks, Chuck. I need the
|
||
|
|
||
|
money. Can I still work the
|
||
|
hours around my classes?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Breen turns to punch up a display on the restaurant's
|
||
|
small accounting computer. Sarah looks over his shoulder
|
||
|
as he modifies the week's schedule.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
Mmm. Same schedule's okay.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Alright!
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
(gravely)
|
||
|
Can you handle it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
It's not brain surgery,
|
||
|
Chuck.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Breen hands her an apron ceremoniously.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BREEN
|
||
|
Here you go. You're a
|
||
|
Bob's Girl now. Nancy
|
||
|
will check you out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I won't let the fat kid down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
25 OMITTED 25
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
26 INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY 26
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - TIGHT ON LOCKER DOOR as it slams shut, revealing
|
||
|
Sarah transformed into a "Bob's Girl".
|
||
|
Her hair is in a bun.
|
||
|
White blouse. Short flared skirt and apron with a bow.
|
||
|
She resembles a suburbanized peasant maid looking for a
|
||
|
goat to milk.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah confronts her reflection in the mirror, pondering
|
||
|
its absurdity.
|
||
|
She pinches her sheeks.
|
||
|
Smiles vacuously.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Hi, I'm Sarah and I'll be
|
||
|
you waitress.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
I'm so wholesome, I could
|
||
|
puke.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
27 EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY 27
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON CAR SIDE WINDOW, as a figure approaches, reflected
|
||
|
in the glass. A fist punches through the window, shattering
|
||
|
it. The thief unlocks the door and gets behind the wheel.
|
||
|
It's Terminator.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
28 INT. YELLOW MAVERICK - DAY 28
|
||
|
|
||
|
With a blow from the heel of his hand Terminator smashes loose
|
||
|
the ignition assembly and strips the wires with a brutal
|
||
|
twist of his fingers. Touching the proper wires he starts
|
||
|
the car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
28A EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 28A
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator walks past the long display window of an
|
||
|
enormous pawnshop emporium. Signs declare, among other
|
||
|
things, GUNS and AMMO is red block letters.
|
||
|
Terminator passes the appliance section, and the pictures
|
||
|
on a row of TV sets distort and break-up sequentially as
|
||
|
he walks by, returning to normal behind him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He enters the store.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
29 INT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 29
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON GLASS COUNTERTOP as an AR-180 ASSAULT RIFLE WITH
|
||
|
SCOPE is laid beside a number of other guns: a COLT K-
|
||
|
MODEL .45 ACP, a SMITH AND WESSON .38 FOUR-INCH, a BERETTA
|
||
|
.225 ACP.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR (V.O.)
|
||
|
...the Remington 1100 Autoloader...
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE as the CLERK, who looks like a sick lizard, pallid
|
||
|
and paunchy, takes the rifle from a wall rack. He lays it
|
||
|
beside the arsenal of perfectly legal anti-human artillery
|
||
|
already on the glass counter.
|
||
|
Terminator scans expressionlessly for additional selec-
|
||
|
tions.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
Anything else?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
A phased plasma pulse-laser in
|
||
|
the forty watt range...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
(annoyed)
|
||
|
Just what you see, pal.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He indicates the display case and wall racks with a
|
||
|
minimal gesture.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
The Uzi 9 millimeter.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
(setting it out)
|
||
|
You know your weapons, buddy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator examines each in turn, working the actions with
|
||
|
curt, precise movements.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Any one of them's ideal for
|
||
|
home defense. Which'll it be?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
All.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The clerk digs deep and finds a scrap of a smile.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
Maybe I'll close early.
|
||
|
Cash or charge?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Instead of replying, Terminator takes a box of shotgun shells
|
||
|
from a stack on the display case.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
Sorry, I can't sell the ammo
|
||
|
with the guns. You'll have
|
||
|
to---Hey!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator has calmly begun feeding the shells into the
|
||
|
shotgun.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLERK
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
You can't to that...
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
(evenly)
|
||
|
Wrong.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He raises the barrel and pulls the trigger. The gun THUNDERS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
30 EXT. GAS STATION/PHONE BOOTH - DAY 30
|
||
|
|
||
|
The yellow Maverick pulls to a stop beside a single phone
|
||
|
booth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH TERMINATOR, as he gets out, walks to the booth
|
||
|
and rapidly pulls its occupant out by his greasy T-shirt,
|
||
|
flinging him backward into the parking lot. The guy is
|
||
|
bear-like, slab-handed, but Terminator doesn't even glance
|
||
|
back as he steps in to take the man's place.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MAN
|
||
|
(outraged)
|
||
|
Hey, man...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
31 PHONE BOOTH
|
||
|
|
||
|
A woman's voice, a faint reedy monologue, issues from the
|
||
|
dangling receiver.
|
||
|
Terminator leafs rapidly through the directory.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - C.U. PAGES FLIPPING
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - MACRO SHOT, as Terminator's finger comes to rest
|
||
|
beside a now-familiar listing:
|
||
|
CONNOR, SARAH
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
32 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is bustling about, trying to service the start of
|
||
|
the dinner rush. In waitress parlance, she's 'in it'.
|
||
|
She runs the gauntlet between tables, precariously balancing
|
||
|
two full dinner plates on one arm and hand-carrying a
|
||
|
third. A customer tugs on her apron for attention and she
|
||
|
barely averts contributing the chili size to his wardrobe.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER
|
||
|
Honey, can I get that coffee
|
||
|
now?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Yes sir, just a second.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She reaches her table after near collisions with a Mexican
|
||
|
busboy and two teenage girls doing cheerleading routines
|
||
|
in lock-step.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Who gets the Burly Burger?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER TWO
|
||
|
I ordered Barbecue Beef.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER THREE
|
||
|
Does mine come with fires?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER FOUR
|
||
|
He's got the Barbecue Beef,
|
||
|
I've got a Chili-Beef Deluxe.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Okay, who gets the Burly Beef?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER AT NEXT TABLE
|
||
|
Miss, we're ready to order.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the process of setting down all the plates Sarah knocks
|
||
|
over someone's water glass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(mopping fran-
|
||
|
tically)
|
||
|
Oh, sorry. That's not real
|
||
|
leather, is it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
As she cleans up the spill, a kid at the next booth reaches
|
||
|
over and dumps a scoop of ice cream into the top pouch of
|
||
|
Sarah's apron
|
||
|
|
||
|
She stares down at the mess melting over her hard-earned
|
||
|
and sags with defeat. NANCY, a plump, gum-chewing waitress,
|
||
|
stops beside her to whisper.
|
||
|
|
||
|
NANCY
|
||
|
Look at it this way: in a
|
||
|
hundred years, who's gonna
|
||
|
care?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
33 EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE on a standard-issue L.A. suburban street with kids
|
||
|
racing Big Wheels B.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE with the FRAME comprising a single house, toy-
|
||
|
littered lawn and mailbox. EXTREME F.G., by the curb, is
|
||
|
a CHILD'S PLASTIC TRUCK.
|
||
|
|
||
|
There is the sound of a CAR ENGINE approaching, and the
|
||
|
front of the yellow Maverick appears, stopping at the curb.
|
||
|
Its front tire CRUSHES the toy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE ON TERMINATOR, preceding him as he steps out of the
|
||
|
car, pauses by the mailbox to check the name, and strides
|
||
|
toward the house.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A YOUNG BOY, playing in the driveway, watches him pass. The
|
||
|
boy's DOG, a small Terrier, growls low and mean, crouching
|
||
|
back from Terminator.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He rings the doorbell and waits, motionless.
|
||
|
The door opens a few inches, held by a security chain,
|
||
|
revealing a frail MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN in apron and rubber
|
||
|
cleaning gloves.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
Sarah Connor?
|
||
|
|
||
|
WOMAN
|
||
|
No, she's upstairs. Who
|
||
|
shall I say is--
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator breaks the chain and pushes past her as if she
|
||
|
didn't exist.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
33A INT. HOUSE/FOYER 33A
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE ON TERMINATOR, preceding his as he crosses the
|
||
|
foyer and mounts the stairs. The woman starts after him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WOMAN
|
||
|
What do you think you're--
|
||
|
My God!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She gasps and stops in her tracks as Terminator smoothly
|
||
|
pulls the .45 from under his jacket and snaps the cocking
|
||
|
slide.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WOMAN
|
||
|
(screeching)
|
||
|
Oh my God...Sarah!
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
33B INT. BEDROOM 33B
|
||
|
|
||
|
Installed on her bed for an afternoon of 'soaps' is the
|
||
|
WRONG SARAH CONNOR. ELECTRODE PADS exercise her doughy
|
||
|
thighs as the 35 year old divorcee watches "GENERAL HOSPITAL".
|
||
|
She calls out distractedly:
|
||
|
|
||
|
WRONG SARAH CONNOR
|
||
|
What is it, Mom?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She jumps as the door BANGS open. And stares in dumb
|
||
|
amazement as the good-looking, intense-eyed man in the
|
||
|
strange clothes raises a pistol.
|
||
|
|
||
|
And aims it at her face.
|
||
|
|
||
|
It all seems less real than "GENERAL HOSPITAL" in that
|
||
|
half-second before he FIRES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
33C INT. FOYER 33C
|
||
|
|
||
|
The mother is fumbling with a telephone when she hears
|
||
|
the SHOT. The silence stretches for several BEATS. Then
|
||
|
FIVE MORE SHOTS are heard.
|
||
|
The woman screams and drops the phone as she stares upward.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON CEILING above her. With each successive shot a
|
||
|
chuck of plaster explodes off the ceiling.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
33D INT. BEDROOM 33D
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE ON TERMINATOR, standing with the .45 aimed
|
||
|
down at the dead woman, just OUT OF FRAME on the floor.
|
||
|
He unhurriedly removes the spent clip, reloads the weapon
|
||
|
and replaces it under his jacket.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Crouching down, he turns the woman's body over, confirming
|
||
|
that she is dead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
33E INT. FOYER 33E
|
||
|
|
||
|
The mother is frantically dialing the phone. She mis-
|
||
|
dials, starts over. Then stops as she hears the bedroom
|
||
|
door open.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator stands at the head of the stairs.
|
||
|
His hand is bloody where he grasped the dead woman's
|
||
|
shoulder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He starts down the stairs.
|
||
|
The mother stands paralyzed, unable to breathe.
|
||
|
He reaches the main floor and walks toward her.
|
||
|
She edges into a corner, eyes wide.
|
||
|
He reaches out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
And wipes his hands clean on her apron.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator walks out, without expression, leaving the
|
||
|
woman to sag to the floor in a faint.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
34 INT./EXT. SERVICE TUNNEL - DAY 34
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON KYLE REESE'S HANDS as they make the last few
|
||
|
strokes with a hacksaw to sever the wooden stock from
|
||
|
the riot gun. It clatters to the ground, leaving a short
|
||
|
stump, like a pistol grip.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT WIDER as Reese hefts the weapon. He is crouched in
|
||
|
an underground service tunnel below a busy street. Shadows
|
||
|
of people walking across a grating in the sidewalk above
|
||
|
him flicker past. They can't see him in the darkness below
|
||
|
their feet as he checks the gun's action carefully. He
|
||
|
slips it under his overcoat where it hangs from a jerry-
|
||
|
rigged sling.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
35 EXT. STREET - DAY 35
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese emerges from a stairwell behind a service station,
|
||
|
his overcoat done up to the top button.
|
||
|
He walks through the sparse morning crowd on the cluttered,
|
||
|
overbuilt commercial street.
|
||
|
He is out of sync.
|
||
|
A stranger in a strange land.
|
||
|
He holds himself tightly reined, cautious and feral as he
|
||
|
moves among the unconcerned pedestrians.
|
||
|
His eyes flick rapidly about.
|
||
|
He is seeing this Babylon for the first time.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese stops at a hole-in-the-wall take-out stand. He
|
||
|
watches people walk away with food. Moves closer.
|
||
|
Scrutinizes the next man as he orders.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TAKE-OUT CUSTOMER
|
||
|
Gimme a falafel with yogurt
|
||
|
dressing and, uh, Baco-bits.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The counterman hands him his food and change wordlessly
|
||
|
as Reese steps up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Gimme a falafel with, uh,
|
||
|
yogurt and Baco-bits.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The counterman barely looks up as he passes the mess
|
||
|
through the window.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COUNTERMAN
|
||
|
That'll be one-sixty.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He glances up and Reese is gone. He leans half out the
|
||
|
window.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COUNTERMAN
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Hey! Son-of-a-bitch.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
35 EXT. ALLEY - DAY 35
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese crouches in an alley, out of sight of passersby,
|
||
|
wolfing his food. The sauce runs down his sleeve but he
|
||
|
doesn't notice.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
35A INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA - DAY 35A
|
||
|
|
||
|
An old man with a shrunken, ungenerous face scowls at
|
||
|
the menu as Sarah wipes the tabletop in front of him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I haven't seen you in here
|
||
|
lately, Mr. Miller.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MR. MILLER
|
||
|
What's it to ya?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You must have a girlfriend.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MR. MILLER
|
||
|
That's none of your business.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Aha! Is she young?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Mr. Miller lowers his menu and glares at her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MR. MILLER
|
||
|
Compared to me she is. How
|
||
|
|
||
|
come you're not at the cash
|
||
|
anymore? They catch ya steal-
|
||
|
ing?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(smiling)
|
||
|
What's it to ya?
|
||
|
|
||
|
When she leaves, the old man is grinning, behind the menu,
|
||
|
where no one can see him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
36 INT. BIG BOB'S/SERVICE CORRIDOR 36
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah rounds the corner, walking fast as she undoes her
|
||
|
apron. She calls out to the walls without looking up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I'm on break, Chuck. Carla's
|
||
|
got my station.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As she approaches the locker room where the girls take
|
||
|
their coffee breaks, the door bursts open and Nancy
|
||
|
beckons to Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
NANCY
|
||
|
(excitedly)
|
||
|
Hurry up. It's about you...
|
||
|
I mean sort of...Come on!
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
37 INT. BIG BOB'S/BREAK ROOM 37
|
||
|
|
||
|
Nancy guides Sarah to the small black and white portable
|
||
|
TV in the corner. Two other girls, smoking cigarettes
|
||
|
with their shoes off and nyloned feet on the table, are
|
||
|
already watching. One glances at Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WAITRESS
|
||
|
Hey, Sarah. This is weird.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They huddle around the set, intent on a newscast in progress.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TV ANCHORWOMAN
|
||
|
...and a police spokesman at
|
||
|
the scene refused to speculate
|
||
|
on a motive for the execution-
|
||
|
style slaying of the Encino
|
||
|
housewife. He did however say
|
||
|
that an accurate description of
|
||
|
the suspect has been compiled
|
||
|
from several witnesses. Once
|
||
|
again, Sarah Connor, thirty-five,
|
||
|
mother of two, brutally shot to
|
||
|
death in her home this afternoon.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As the news grinds on, Sarah gazes unseeingly at the screen.
|
||
|
Nancy claps her on the shoulder, laughing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
NANCY
|
||
|
You're dead, honey.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
38 EXT. HEALTH CLUB - DUSK 38
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sunlight is dying when Sarah swings her moped to the curb
|
||
|
in front of the 'GOOD LIFE SPA', a large, crowded health
|
||
|
club.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
39 INT. HEALTH CLUB/AEROBICS STUDIO 39
|
||
|
|
||
|
MUSIC BOOMS and masses of leotarded cellulite sway in close
|
||
|
F.G. as CAMERA DOLLIES along a row of panting, stretching
|
||
|
women. In deep B.G. Sarah slips in through the door and
|
||
|
waits against the wall while the human dynamo, GINGER VENTURA,
|
||
|
leads the class energetically. Ginger, Sarah's roommate,
|
||
|
is a party-stopper. Red-haired, athletic, sensuous. She's
|
||
|
pretty enough when still, but stunning in motion. And she's
|
||
|
in motion.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger yells commands and cheerfully dives into contortions
|
||
|
to the BEAT of a MOTOWN FAVORITE.
|
||
|
MARCO, a handsome, well-defined guy wearing a tight STAFF
|
||
|
T-shirt, strolls up for a drink at the water fountain next
|
||
|
to Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MARCO
|
||
|
Hi. I've seen you around.
|
||
|
You're cute. Cute I remember.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I'm Sarah. Ginger's roommate.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MARCO
|
||
|
Yeah, right. I'm Marco.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The dance tape ends.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
...and three aaand four! And
|
||
|
that's it ladies! Now, didn't
|
||
|
that feel good?
|
||
|
|
||
|
The group collapses ensemble. A chorus of groans.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Let's think positive or next
|
||
|
time I'll play the FM version.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger walks over to Sarah as the class disperses. Marco
|
||
|
is leaning on the wall next to Sarah, who is enjoying the
|
||
|
attention.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
...yeah, really? Say some-
|
||
|
thing in Italian.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Before Marco can reply, Ginger pulls the front of his gym
|
||
|
shorts out and peers down. She shakes her head.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
You're wasting your time, kiddo.
|
||
|
Let's go.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She grabs Sarah by the arm and pulls her out the door.
|
||
|
Sarah catches a glimpse of Marco's expression over her
|
||
|
shoulder as the door closes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
40 INT. HEALTH CLUB/STAIRS AND CORRIDOR 40
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE WITH THE TWO GIRLS, as they descend to the first
|
||
|
floor and enter a hallway
|
||
|
Sarah is gasping with laughter.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(weakly)
|
||
|
I don't believe you did that.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger is adjusting her ever-present WALKMAN-TYPE CASSETTE
|
||
|
PLAYER at her hip. She slips on the earphones as they walk
|
||
|
along.
|
||
|
Sarah feigns outrage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
I had him hooked. He was
|
||
|
just about to ask me out.
|
||
|
I could tell.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
That guy's a jerk. I did
|
||
|
you a favor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I'll do the same for you
|
||
|
sometime.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah laughs and claps her friend on the back. They turn
|
||
|
in at a door marked WEIGHT ROOM.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
41 INT. WEIGHT ROOM 41
|
||
|
|
||
|
SEVERAL ANGLES, on glistening arms, legs, torsos merging
|
||
|
into bio-mechanical kinetic sculptures with the chrome-steel
|
||
|
levers and tubes. The CRASH and SQUEAL of metal against
|
||
|
metal.
|
||
|
|
||
|
In F.G., two Conan-esque arms thrust upward, glistening.
|
||
|
Ginger's boyfriend, MATT McCALLISTER, the assistant manager
|
||
|
of the club, strains out his last reps, bench-pressing
|
||
|
enormous weight on the Nautilus machine.
|
||
|
Despite his imposing appearance, Matt is one of the warmest
|
||
|
people you'd ever want to meet.
|
||
|
His face is contorted, muscles knotted for the last push.
|
||
|
He heaves it up with a guttural cry.
|
||
|
Lowering his weights with a CLANG, Matt lies panting, arms
|
||
|
dangling at his side, eyes closed.
|
||
|
A pair of female legs appear.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER (V.O.)
|
||
|
What's this? Sleep therapy?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Matt opens his eyes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
You think somebody's gonna
|
||
|
do this for you? Look at
|
||
|
those shriveled bi's. And
|
||
|
you haven't worked lat's or
|
||
|
ab's since Wednesday.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT
|
||
|
(smiling)
|
||
|
Hello, sweetheart. Had a
|
||
|
rough day?
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(softening)
|
||
|
Come here, wimp.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She leans down as he sits up and they meet in a kiss that's
|
||
|
bad for the other guys' discipline.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah waits until they break the clinch to speak.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Hi, Matt.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Matt look backwards over the bench, and replies, upside-down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT
|
||
|
(grinning broadly)
|
||
|
Heeey! It's my favorite
|
||
|
Sarah. Hi, babe.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger pulls the pin on Mat's weights and re-inserts it
|
||
|
beneath the entire stack, the maximum weight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Alright, warm-ups are over.
|
||
|
Back to work, Bunky.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger readadjusts her headphones as the two girls walk away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT
|
||
|
'Bye beautiful. You too,
|
||
|
Ginger.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Two weightlifters nearby look at each other, than at Matt.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WEIGHTLIFTER
|
||
|
Bunky?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
42 EXT. HEALTH CLUB/STREETS - DUSK 42
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah lurches away from the curb on her moped, almost
|
||
|
spilling Ginger who is attempting to ride double. They
|
||
|
swing out onto a main thoroughfare and careen through
|
||
|
the bumper-to-bumper traffic.
|
||
|
Sarah maneuvers deftly though overloaded and unstable.
|
||
|
Ginger doesn't know whether to laugh of scream at the
|
||
|
near-misses.
|
||
|
She does both.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
43 OMITTED 43
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
44 EXT. STREET/CONSTRUCTION SIGHT - DUSK
|
||
|
|
||
|
On a side street the girls pass an excavation site between
|
||
|
high-rises. They pass OUT OF FRAME as CAMERA HOLDS on the
|
||
|
construction area and Ginger's shrieks fade.
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the F.G., under an overpass, Reese sits is a car watching
|
||
|
the powerful machines moving earth.
|
||
|
He's in a late-model non-descript GREY SEDAN, one of a row
|
||
|
of cars gathering dirt beside the construction site.
|
||
|
Crab-armed back-hoes and massive caterpillars ROAR through
|
||
|
a curtain of dust, under intense floodlights. A power-shovel
|
||
|
moves its great arm, lighting its own way with an arc-light.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
45 INT. GREY SEDAN 45
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese sits motionless in the dark. Waiting. The clock in
|
||
|
the dash ticks quietly.
|
||
|
He flips on the radio. A fatuous POP ROCK STATION.
|
||
|
Reese fishes a magazine off the dirty floor. His over-
|
||
|
coat is off, draped over the shotgun on the seat beside
|
||
|
him.
|
||
|
His bare arms are sinewy and scarred.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese flips the page of COSMOPOLITAN.
|
||
|
He look at the glossy photos, the glossy women.
|
||
|
Fantasy women. Svelte and seamless.
|
||
|
The ads fascinate him too: Caribbean vacations and blended
|
||
|
whiskeys.
|
||
|
His head sags against the door.
|
||
|
He gazes dully at the tracks of a passing CATERPILLAR as they
|
||
|
chew through the dirt.
|
||
|
The ROAD and CLATTER of treads intensifies as his eyes close.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
46 EXT. MELTED RUINS - NIGHT 46
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON A GLEAMING STEEL TREAD as it grinds through debris.
|
||
|
The debris is ferroconcrete, girders, and jackstraw heaps of
|
||
|
HUMAN BONES, burned black.
|
||
|
|
||
|
There is the sound of EXPLOSIONS, distant, and an intermittent
|
||
|
electronic WHINE. Incredibly bright searchlights play over
|
||
|
the ground. PANNING with the moving treads through twisted
|
||
|
wreckage, F.G.
|
||
|
The screen WHITES OUT with a BLAST, very close. As the
|
||
|
debris clatters down, a helmetted head snaps up into FRAME,
|
||
|
EXTREME F.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The visor of the HIGH-TECH HELMET is shattered, presumably
|
||
|
by the explosion. The wearer rips it off, revealing a
|
||
|
younger Reese, minus his burn scar.
|
||
|
His face is bathed in sweat, lit by the glow from a CRT
|
||
|
SCOPE-SIGHT on a strange-looking rifle.
|
||
|
The sound of SCREAMS and HOARSE SHOUTS not far off, and a
|
||
|
continuous low murmuring of RADIO CHATTER, grid coordinates,
|
||
|
casualties, unit placements, medic requests.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese looks over his shoulder at his teammate, a GIRL
|
||
|
of about sixteen, gaunt, dirty, heavily armed like himself.
|
||
|
DOLLYING as they start to belly crawl through the bones
|
||
|
and wreckage.
|
||
|
Reese looks up.
|
||
|
Through spires of a collapsed building a terrifying
|
||
|
SPHINX-LIKE SHAPE moves against the sky...obscured by dust
|
||
|
and blinding sweeps of its searchlights.
|
||
|
Though we see little, this is an H-K,Hunter-Killer
|
||
|
mobile ground-unit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese crawls, pacing the H-K, under and through, on elbows
|
||
|
and knees, past mounds of charred skulls. They
|
||
|
pass the BODY OF A CHILD, a boy of about 10, center-
|
||
|
punched with a smoking hole. The boy clutches a rifle.
|
||
|
More bodies. Some in rags, some in uniforms like theirs.
|
||
|
WOMEN. OLD MEN. CHILDREN. They're all dirty and gaunt,
|
||
|
scabrous. And still bleeding. Reese scrabbles past a
|
||
|
dark rat-hole and there are human rats in it. Some of them
|
||
|
are sobbing, or screaming.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Another EXPLOSION.
|
||
|
The GLARE lights the huddled few.
|
||
|
Human vermin with mud-caked weapons that haven't been
|
||
|
invented yet. Soldiers in a nightmare war.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese and his teammate stop behind a blasted wall, having
|
||
|
outflanked the massive H-K. Its flashing blue lights flick
|
||
|
across the walls, its searchlights sear through the
|
||
|
debris.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDER, showing the H-K more clearly...a blast-scarred
|
||
|
CHROME LEVIATHON, with hydraulic arms folded mantis-like
|
||
|
against its 'torso', and huge underslung GUN TURRETS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese leaps up and straight-arms a satchel-charge into its
|
||
|
path. One tread rolls over the explosive.
|
||
|
Guns and searchlights swivel. The head turns ponderously.
|
||
|
Reese's partner rises, poised to throw hers.
|
||
|
A POWER-BOLT catches her at the top of her arc, BLOWING
|
||
|
HER INTO RED MIST.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is knocked down by the concussion. Gets up, running,
|
||
|
as the charges blow.
|
||
|
The H-K's tread carriers are RIPPED APART.
|
||
|
It lurches to a stop, burning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The following SEQUENCE is extremely FORESHORTENED.
|
||
|
CUT FAST. IMPRESSIONS ONLY.
|
||
|
Running.
|
||
|
Explosions light the ruins like flashbulbs.
|
||
|
ENERGY WEAPONS criss-cross the night like tracers.
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE, up past the burning H-K as its flying counter-
|
||
|
part, an AERIAL H-K, arcs into view with a TURBOJET WHINE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese hauls two survivors of his unit into a PERSONNEL
|
||
|
CARRIER, a CHEVY CAMARO with steel plate welded over it and
|
||
|
the roof cut away to access the 50 CALIBER MACHINE GUN.
|
||
|
It's stripped and rusted and bullet-riddled, glassless.
|
||
|
The TIRES are OFF-ROAD and very gnarly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They're driving through the ruins, up and over and through.
|
||
|
Reese drives like a demon. Under other circumstances it
|
||
|
would be considered insane. Here it is merely very good.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The machine gun CHATTERS.
|
||
|
A BLACK SHAPE descends, a demon with searchlights.
|
||
|
A BOLT OF LIGHT.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's car flips like a kicked beer can, rolling and
|
||
|
crumpling. He's pinned in the wreck, bloody, screaming
|
||
|
despite his training. The only other survivor, an
|
||
|
emaciated BOY of twelve, is pulling for all he's worth
|
||
|
to drag Reese out before it burns.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
47 EXT. STREET/GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 47
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON A BOY, about twelve, clean and healthy, wearing
|
||
|
a blue plastic DODGERS HELMET. He reaches through the
|
||
|
window of the sedan.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BOY
|
||
|
Hey, mister...?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
48 INT. GREY SEDAN 48
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's eyes open in a split-second, and suddenly there
|
||
|
is a SHOTGUN MUZZLE AIMED RIGHT AT US.
|
||
|
Reese quivers with a curious spasm, similar to the tremors
|
||
|
of his arrival, and blinks at the boy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The boy is white-faced, staring down the bore. He backs
|
||
|
away. We see that he is straddling a bicycle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
49 EXT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 49
|
||
|
|
||
|
The boy's SISTER, slightly younger and also on a bicycle,
|
||
|
can't see the shotgun from where she's waiting.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SISTER
|
||
|
(taunting)
|
||
|
See, I told you he wasn't
|
||
|
dead. You owe me Baskin
|
||
|
Robbins.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The boy rides past her list a shot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BOY
|
||
|
(urgently)
|
||
|
Come on. Just come on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
50 INT. GREY SEDAN 50
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese relaxes slowly, the voltage draining out of him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
INSERT - MACRO, Reese's finger on the trigger is white
|
||
|
with pressure. He slips the safety to the OFF position.
|
||
|
The gun can now be fired.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He sets it on the seat and reaches for the dangling ignition
|
||
|
wires, starting the car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
51 EXT. STREET/OVERPASS - NIGHT 51
|
||
|
|
||
|
Lit by streetlights, the car moves away with it lights
|
||
|
off and vanishes in the shadows.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
52 OMITTED 52
|
||
|
|
||
|
53 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 53
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Ginger are crammed into the tiny bathroom,
|
||
|
becoming inextricably tangled in each other's cords as
|
||
|
they blow-dry, curl hair, and apply make-up. Ginger
|
||
|
has her headphones inverted under her chin but in place,
|
||
|
and is bouncing to music as she dries her hair. She is
|
||
|
wearing a short terry-cloth bathrobe that reveals the
|
||
|
greater part of her legs. Sarah is in a skirt and bra.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The phone rings and Sarah goes out into the living room
|
||
|
to get it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(answering the
|
||
|
phone)
|
||
|
Hello?
|
||
|
|
||
|
VOICE (V.O.)
|
||
|
(on phone, deep
|
||
|
and breathy)
|
||
|
First I'm going to rip the
|
||
|
buttons off your blouse, one
|
||
|
by one...then run my tongue
|
||
|
along your neck, down to your
|
||
|
bare, gleaming breasts...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah cups her hand over the mouthpiece and calls out
|
||
|
matter-of-factly:
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Ginger! It's Matt.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She resumes listening.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT (V.O.)
|
||
|
...and then slowly pull your
|
||
|
jeans off inch by inch and
|
||
|
lick your belly in circles,
|
||
|
further and further down...
|
||
|
then I'll pull off your panties
|
||
|
with my teeth...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is repressing laughter.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(crossly)
|
||
|
Who is this?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Silence. Then Matt realizes to his horror who he's been
|
||
|
talking to.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT (V.O.)
|
||
|
Oh my God! Sarah! Oh, shit.
|
||
|
Jesus, I'm sorry. I thought
|
||
|
you were...Can I talk to Ginger?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Sure, Bunky.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As Ginger approaches, Sarah hands her the receiver and
|
||
|
goes into the bedroom.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Hello?
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT (V.O.)
|
||
|
First I'm gonna rip the buttons
|
||
|
off your blouse...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
54 BEDROOM
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah picks up four blouses on hanger lying on the bed
|
||
|
and goes back into the hallway.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
55 INT. LIVING ROOM
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger is still listening to Matt, nodding, as Sarah enters
|
||
|
and starts holding the blouses against herself one by one
|
||
|
for Ginger's inspection.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
What do you think?
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(covering mouth-
|
||
|
piece)
|
||
|
Great.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah hold up another one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
How about this?
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Great.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You're a big help.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(advisory tone)
|
||
|
Alright, the beige one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I hate the beige one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(same advisory
|
||
|
tone)
|
||
|
Don't wear the beige one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah gathers up the blouses and walks out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH (V.O.)
|
||
|
This guy's probably a schmuck
|
||
|
and I don't care what I wear.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A couple of BEATS, and she's back in the doorway with
|
||
|
a concerned expression.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
You think the beige?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
56 EXT. VENICE STREET - NIGHT
|
||
|
|
||
|
An unmarked car with a clamp-on light and siren blaring
|
||
|
screeches to the curb behind two marked black-and-whites
|
||
|
in front of a funky Venice apartment building. A small
|
||
|
crowd is gathered around the front steps. LIEUTENANT
|
||
|
ED VUKOVICH, Homicide Division, gets out of the car and
|
||
|
strides through the crowd. He's fiftyish, short, but
|
||
|
square and solid, a human bulldog gone a little to paunch.
|
||
|
He chews Juicy Fruit gum like a maniac: a chain-chewer.
|
||
|
He's homely as an old boot. And he's not a smart cop, he's
|
||
|
a wise one; rarer still. The onlookers, gathered patiently
|
||
|
for their ten second glimpse of something under a sheet,
|
||
|
separate for him to pass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
57 INT. VENICE APARTMENT BUILDING/STAIRWELL/APARTMENT
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA PANAGLIDES AHEAD OF VUKOVICH, as he climbs the switch-
|
||
|
back staircase two steps at a time. He passes TWO UNIFORMED
|
||
|
COPS at the doorway of a second-floor apartment, and enters
|
||
|
to find a quiet flurry of activity. Several DETECTIVES and
|
||
|
a PHOTOGRAPHER prowl around, taking evidence, taking pictures.
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the center of the living room floor is the body of a
|
||
|
young woman, crumpled face down in a small lake of blood.
|
||
|
Two bags of groceries lie split open on the floor in front
|
||
|
of her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich glances up as he is joined by DETECTIVE SGT.
|
||
|
TRAXLER. Traxler is black, lean and very jaded.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Give me the short version.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Six shots at less than ten
|
||
|
feet. Weapon was a large
|
||
|
caliber--
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich is looking at the body.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
No shit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler turns to a passing DETECTIVE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Come on. man. Don't track
|
||
|
it all over. It's un-
|
||
|
professional.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He turn back to Vukovich, gesturing at the body.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Okay, let's see...Got a pos-
|
||
|
itive on her. She's Sarah
|
||
|
Connor, works as a legal--
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(interrupting)
|
||
|
That can't be right. That's
|
||
|
the name of the one Valley
|
||
|
Division mopped up this after-
|
||
|
noon.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler slips something off his clipboard and hands
|
||
|
it to the Lieutenant.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Here's her driver's license.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(pondering)
|
||
|
You gotta be kidding me. The
|
||
|
new guys'll be short-stroking
|
||
|
it over this one. A one-day
|
||
|
pattern killer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
I hate the weird ones.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
58 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM 58
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah poses with Ginger in front of the mirror. They are
|
||
|
dressed, made-up, hair-styled and READY.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(studying their
|
||
|
reflection)
|
||
|
Better than mortal man deserves.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah grins and goes into the other room.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
59 INT. LIVING ROOM
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah walks around the room, searching for something.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(calling)
|
||
|
Ginger, have you seen Pugsley?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger enters, stopping beside their phone answering machine.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Not lately. Did you check
|
||
|
messages?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(still looking)
|
||
|
I thought you did.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She checks under the couch, then behind the drapes. She
|
||
|
bends down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(from beside cur-
|
||
|
tains)
|
||
|
Come here young man. Mind
|
||
|
your mother.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - PUGSLEY, as the GREEN IGUANA cocks its head, blinking
|
||
|
vapidly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
RESUME WIDE, Sarah lifts the three foot long lizard from his
|
||
|
perch on the windowsill. She gives the complacent reptile
|
||
|
a kiss on its blunt snout.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(groaning)
|
||
|
Totally nauseating.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah drapes the lizard across her shoulders where it sits
|
||
|
contentedly as she looks for her purse. Ginger has been
|
||
|
rewinding the message tape. She punches PLAY and a MALE
|
||
|
VOICE is heard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VOICE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
|
||
|
Hi, Sarah...Stan Morsky.
|
||
|
Uh, something's come up and
|
||
|
it looks like I won't be able
|
||
|
to make it tonight. I'm really
|
||
|
sorry. Call you in a day or so.
|
||
|
Sorry. 'Bye.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah stands still, crestfallen.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
That bum. So what if he has
|
||
|
a Porsche, he can't treat you
|
||
|
like that...it's Friday night
|
||
|
for crissakes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(slumping)
|
||
|
|
||
|
I'll live.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
I'll break his kneecaps.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah resignedly slips Pugsley off her shoulders.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You still love me, don't
|
||
|
you, Pugsley?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She places Pugsley in a large terrarium with a 'BEWARE OF
|
||
|
DOG' sign taped on the side.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
I'm going to a movie, kiddo.
|
||
|
See ya'. You and Matt have
|
||
|
a good time.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
(as Sarah exits)
|
||
|
We will, kiddo.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
60 INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is a small figure in the shadowed echoing garage of
|
||
|
her building.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CONVERGING DOLLY, PACING HER, as she passes the stalls with
|
||
|
their inky shadows.
|
||
|
The light near her moped is out.
|
||
|
She fumbles in the dark to unlock the chain.
|
||
|
She looks up.
|
||
|
Did she hear something...masked by the rattle of the chain?
|
||
|
|
||
|
POV - SARAH, there is no movement for the length of the
|
||
|
garage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON SARAH - C.U., inexplicably nervous.
|
||
|
She stows the chain and starts the bike. It whines
|
||
|
reassuringly.
|
||
|
Sarah jumps on and whirs out of the garage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
61 INT. CAR/NEARBY - NIGHT 61
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is visible through the windshield as she pulls onto
|
||
|
the street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PAN WITH HER to reveal Kyle Reese, hunched down in shadow,
|
||
|
watching. He puts the car in gear and pulls out to follow
|
||
|
her receding tail-light.
|
||
|
Streetlights flash across his face, in stark-lines profile.
|
||
|
Mouth cruel where the scar tugs at it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
62 INT. DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT 62
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOLLYING WITH VUKOVICH and TRAXLER, as they pass through a
|
||
|
group of REPORTERS. Mostly newspaper stringers but there
|
||
|
is also one bored local TV MINICAM CREW.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REPORTER
|
||
|
...Lieutenant, are you aware
|
||
|
that these two killings occurred
|
||
|
in the same order as their listings
|
||
|
in the phone book?
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
No comment.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He and Traxler enter their office and shut the door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
63 VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 63
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich drops his gun in the wastebasket, picks up a cup
|
||
|
of coffee from his desk and uses it to wash down a handful
|
||
|
of aspirins. Traxler grimaces.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
That stuff's two hours cold.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(nodding ab-
|
||
|
sently)
|
||
|
I know.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(eyeing him)
|
||
|
I put a cigarette out in it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich, lost in thought, turns on him suddenly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Did you reach the next girl
|
||
|
yet?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
No. Keep getting an answer-
|
||
|
ing machine.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Send a unit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
I already did. No answer at
|
||
|
the door and the apartment
|
||
|
manager's out. I'm keeping
|
||
|
them there.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Call her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
I just called.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Call her again.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler picks up the phone and begins to dial her number
|
||
|
as Vukovich sets down his coffee cup, unwraps a stick of
|
||
|
gum and pops it in his mouth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Got a cigarette?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
64 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 64
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON PHONE, connected to the answering machine. The
|
||
|
outgoing message trigger after the second ring.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER'S VOICE
|
||
|
(machine V.O.)
|
||
|
Hi there.
|
||
|
(long pause)
|
||
|
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're
|
||
|
talking to a machine, but don't
|
||
|
by shy, it's okay. Machines need
|
||
|
love too, so talk to it and Ginger,
|
||
|
that's me, or Sarah will get back
|
||
|
to you. Wait for the beep.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As the message plays, CAMERA DOLLIES OFF the phone machine
|
||
|
and down the corridor of the dark apartment. As the bedroom
|
||
|
door draws near, Ginger's recorded voice fades and is super-
|
||
|
ceded by CRIES and MOANS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
65 INT. BEDROOM 65
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT, framed against the streetlit curtains, Ginger and
|
||
|
Matt from a beautiful tableau of lovemaking in silhouette.
|
||
|
Their perfect bodies glisten with backlight as they strain
|
||
|
in passion.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSER - TIGHT TWO, revealing that Ginger is wearing her
|
||
|
earphones. Matt, without breaking rhythm, reaches out to
|
||
|
the night table and thumbs the volume higher.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger cries out louder, apparently enjoying his sure touch
|
||
|
on her volume control.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
66 INT. DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT 66
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler hangs up the phone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Same shit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
I can hear it now, it's gonna
|
||
|
be the goddamned 'Phone Book
|
||
|
Killer'.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
I hate the press cases.
|
||
|
Especially the weird press
|
||
|
cases. Where you going?
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(heading for
|
||
|
the door)
|
||
|
To make a statement. I'm gonna
|
||
|
give them the name. Maybe the
|
||
|
jackals can help us out for
|
||
|
once.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He looks at his watch, then straightens his tie.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
If they can get this on the
|
||
|
tube by eleven, she may just
|
||
|
call us.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
How do I look?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Like shit, boss.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich goes out and the Minicam light hits him as the
|
||
|
door closes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
67 INT. PIZZA PARLOR - NIGHT 67
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON A TV SCREEN, a news cast in progress.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
|
||
|
...police had no further comment
|
||
|
on the apparent similarity between
|
||
|
the shooting death of an Encino
|
||
|
woman earlier today...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT WIDE to show Sarah watching the TV which is suspended
|
||
|
over the bar. The place is a crowded, post-movie hangout,
|
||
|
raucous with laughter and videogames. The newscast
|
||
|
continues, ignored by all except Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
...and this almost identical
|
||
|
killing two hours ago of a
|
||
|
Venice resident with virtually
|
||
|
the same name. Sarah Ann Connor,
|
||
|
a 24 year old legal secretary, was
|
||
|
pronounced dead at the scene in
|
||
|
her beachfront apartment...
|
||
|
|
||
|
A customer gestures for the bartender's attention.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUSTOMER
|
||
|
Hey, can we change this and
|
||
|
catch the ball scores.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BARTENDER
|
||
|
(reaching for the
|
||
|
knob)
|
||
|
Sure.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah leaps half over the bar, startling everyone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Leave it where it is!
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANCHORMAN (V.O.)
|
||
|
...no other connections between
|
||
|
the two victims has been estab-
|
||
|
lished.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
On a lighter note, these was
|
||
|
cause for celebration at the
|
||
|
L.A. Zoo today, as...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah leaves her half-finished pizza and beer, getting up
|
||
|
in a daze. Followed by puzzles glances, she makes her way
|
||
|
through the crowd.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
68 INT. PIZZA PARLOR HALLWAY 68
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the crowded hallway by the restrooms, Sarah goes to the
|
||
|
single payphone and seizes the directory. She flips rapidly
|
||
|
through it, then stops, looking down.
|
||
|
She sees that her name is next on the list.
|
||
|
The book slips out of her fingers.
|
||
|
Sarah turns and scans the crowd.
|
||
|
She's getting looks, covert and otherwise, like any unaccom-
|
||
|
panied girl on a Friday night. But is that all they mean?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah back into the women's restroom.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
69 INT. RESTROOM 69
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah stumbles numbly to the sink.
|
||
|
She splashes her face with cold water. In the mirror
|
||
|
her terrified reflection looks back. Why me?
|
||
|
She hears a loud clatter and spins around.
|
||
|
It's just a drunken woman fumbling with a toilet stall door.
|
||
|
Sarah edges back out into the corridor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
70 INT. HALLWAY 70
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah walks stiffly to the pay phone.
|
||
|
It's OUT OF ORDER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
71 EXT. STREET/SIDEWALK - NIGHT 71
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah exits the pizza place into the sparse crowd on the
|
||
|
sidewalk. As she passes a figure leaning against the wall
|
||
|
just outside, the man turns his head to watch her.
|
||
|
It is Reese, his gaze impassive.
|
||
|
Streetlight catches the burn scar on his cheek.
|
||
|
He is motionless, sinister in his long coat.
|
||
|
Sarah shudders.
|
||
|
She walks on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
POV - SARAH, ON CROWD, moving toward and through approaching
|
||
|
groups of pedestrians. They seem to be glancing at her.
|
||
|
Was it always like that and she just never noticed?
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH as she look over her shoulder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
POV - SARAH, ON PIZZA PARLOR DOORWAY. Reese is gone.
|
||
|
She resists the urge to run.
|
||
|
On the opposite side of the street an LAPD cruiser glides
|
||
|
slowly by. Sarah is about to call out but a bus blocks
|
||
|
her view and when it had passed, the car is turning away
|
||
|
down a side street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She passes a large window with STOKER'S written on it, and
|
||
|
ducks quickly through the door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
72 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 72
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE THROUGH WINDOW, SARAH F.G., as Reese approaches.
|
||
|
Her knuckles clench white as he reaches the entrance and
|
||
|
walks by, unhurriedly, without a glance inside.
|
||
|
She turns and scan the gloomy interior, which reveals itself
|
||
|
to be less than savory. Pool tables and upper-middle lowlife
|
||
|
in submarine depths of smoky haze.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah draws stares, menacing in their own right, as she
|
||
|
weaves between the pool tables to the back of the bar.
|
||
|
her hands are trembling as she drops a dime in the pay
|
||
|
phone and dials.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VOICE (V.O./RECORDED)
|
||
|
You have reached the Los Angeles
|
||
|
Police Department Emergency Number.
|
||
|
All lines are busy. If you need
|
||
|
a police car sent out to you, please
|
||
|
stay on the line...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah holds the receiver pressed to her ear, glancing
|
||
|
around, fear feeding on frustration.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
73 EXT. SARAH'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 73
|
||
|
|
||
|
An LAPD black-and-white sits at the curb in front of Sarah's
|
||
|
building with two cops inside, drinking coffee. Through
|
||
|
the open window we hear the dispatcher's voice on the
|
||
|
radio.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
|
||
|
...two eleven in progress at
|
||
|
Seven-Eleven market, Third and
|
||
|
Tamarac. One suspect believed
|
||
|
to be armed...
|
||
|
|
||
|
The car pulls out with lights and siren on.
|
||
|
A moment later, Terminator rounds the corner of the building
|
||
|
and climbs the stairs to the entryway.
|
||
|
He surveys the bank of call buttons, then turns to consider
|
||
|
the barred security gate.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
74 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 74
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE WITH GINGER as she ties her terry-cloth robe and,
|
||
|
leaving Matt in a dead sleep, pads through the dark apartment.
|
||
|
Down the hall, past the phone with Traxler's message.
|
||
|
Through the dark living room.
|
||
|
She has her Walkman in the pocket of her robe and bops to
|
||
|
herself in the silent gloom as she enters the kitchen.
|
||
|
|
||
|
When she opens the refrigerator to remove snack fixings, the
|
||
|
light briefly illuminates the kitchen and in that moment,
|
||
|
SOMETHING MOVES in the F.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON GINGER, MOVING WITH HER as she backs toward the
|
||
|
counter with her arms full of snack stuff.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A SUDDEN CRASH. A flurry of motion behind her.
|
||
|
She spins, dropping half her load.
|
||
|
Ginger fumbles for the lightswitch.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Revealing Pugsley, sitting there blinking innocently among
|
||
|
overturned spice bottles on the counter-top.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER
|
||
|
Shoo. Go on. I'll make a
|
||
|
belt out of you.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Pugsley disappears into a large fern by the window and Ginger
|
||
|
sets about her task, slathering crunchy peanut butter on
|
||
|
stalks of celery.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
75 INT. BEDROOM 75
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON MATT, as rustling curtains play patterns of street-
|
||
|
light over his sleeping face.
|
||
|
The sound of a faint breeze.
|
||
|
In the B.G. is the balcony, empty. The sliding door is open.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON MATT, as his eyes open at the sound of a quiet,
|
||
|
repeated CLICKING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
UP ANGLE - PAST MATT, as the five-inch blade of an industrial
|
||
|
razor-knife reaches full extension in Terminator's hand,
|
||
|
right above him.
|
||
|
It slashes viciously downward.
|
||
|
Matt rolls and the pillow is SLIT OPEN where his throat had
|
||
|
been.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MATT
|
||
|
Whoah!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator catches him by the hair and slashed down again.
|
||
|
Matt grabs the wrist in both hands.
|
||
|
The enormous muscles of his arms, which seem capable of bench
|
||
|
pressing a Chrysler, strain and knot against the pressure of
|
||
|
the killer's single arm...
|
||
|
And still the blade moves closer to his throat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
With a final heave Matt deflects the down-pressure sideways
|
||
|
and the blade snaps with a CLINK against the headboard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HANDHELD WITH MATT as he rolls off the bed, spins and slams
|
||
|
his fists together into Terminator's temple. He picks up a
|
||
|
brass deco lamp and brings it down with piledriver force.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Unperturbed, Terminator knocks the lamp away and hurls Matt
|
||
|
over the bed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
76 EXT. BALCONY - NIGHT 76
|
||
|
|
||
|
Matt crashes through the glass doors and slams against the
|
||
|
balcony railing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
77 INT. KITCHEN 77
|
||
|
|
||
|
Oblivious to the noise, Ginger croons in rock-and-roll
|
||
|
ecstasy, singing to a celery stalk as if it were a micro-
|
||
|
phone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
78 EXT./INT. BALCONY AND BEDROOM - NIGHT 78
|
||
|
|
||
|
Matt heaves himself up, powerful body gleaming with sweat
|
||
|
and hurls himself upon the intruder.
|
||
|
The titans CRASH INTO A DRESSER, reducing it to kindling.
|
||
|
Then into the closet door, EXPLODING THE FULL-LENGTH MIRROR.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator places one hand on either side of Matt's barrel
|
||
|
chest. SINKS HIS FINGERS INTO THE FLESH. An inhuman grip.
|
||
|
Matt is raised off the floor, contorted with agony, above
|
||
|
the other's head.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
79 INT. HALLWAY 79
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOLLY PRECEDING GINGER as she returns from the kitchen with
|
||
|
a plate full of celery stalks and a glass of milk. CAMERA
|
||
|
passes the closed bedroom door and STOPS, as Ginger pauses
|
||
|
to set the plate on top of the glass, freeing one hand to
|
||
|
open the door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
AN EXPLOSION OF SPLINTERS in close F.G. as a shape smashes
|
||
|
through the door right in front of her...Matt's body
|
||
|
propelled halfway through the door by enormous force.
|
||
|
Ginger shrieks and leaps back, flinging milk and all into
|
||
|
the air.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The door begins to open the pressure of Matt's body
|
||
|
creates resistance.
|
||
|
Ginger SCREAMS and back away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The door is wrenched open and Terminator steps through with
|
||
|
the massive .45 drawn.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HANDHELD WITH GINGER, the walls blur by as she runs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR as the pistol RISES INTO FRAME, aligning
|
||
|
with his eyes. BOOM!
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW FAST DOLLY WITH GINGER as the bullet punches into her
|
||
|
shoulder, pitching her on her face outside the bathroom door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW WIDE ANGLE as she crawls forward, gasping, drowning.
|
||
|
The implacable figure looms behind her.
|
||
|
Her expression is agony and reeling, nauseating terror.
|
||
|
And incomprehension: Why am I suddenly dying?
|
||
|
Her eyes roll, showing the whites, like a horse tethered in
|
||
|
a burning stable.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
80 INT. BATHROOM 80
|
||
|
|
||
|
Ginger scrabbles pathetically for a grip on the tile floor
|
||
|
as she pulls herself into the bathroom.
|
||
|
She clutches the rim of the toilet.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE PAST HER, ON TERMINATOR, as he stands behind her.
|
||
|
PAN UP, off her. He takes aim.
|
||
|
And empties the clip.
|
||
|
He calmly reloads.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
81 INT. HALLWAY/BEDROOM 81
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON PHONE MACHINE, as the telephone rings loudly in the
|
||
|
ensuing silence.
|
||
|
Terminator spins, drawing an instantaneous bead on the source
|
||
|
of the sound, but doesn't fire.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER'S VOICE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Hi there.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're
|
||
|
talking to a machine...
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR, motionless, listening.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER'S VOICE
|
||
|
(recorded, continuing)
|
||
|
...but don't be shy, it's okay.
|
||
|
Machines need love too...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator turns abruptly back to Ginger's body. He turns
|
||
|
it over, assuring himself that she is dead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
GINGER'S VOICE
|
||
|
(continuing, recorded)
|
||
|
...so talk to it and Ginger, that's
|
||
|
me, or Sarah will get back to you.
|
||
|
Wait for the beep.
|
||
|
|
||
|
There is a loud tone and the incoming call is heard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S VOICE
|
||
|
(on machine)
|
||
|
Ginger, this is Sarah...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator's head snaps back and he freezes, listening.
|
||
|
He rises slowly as Sarah's voice continues.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON HIS UNBLINKING EYES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S VOICE
|
||
|
(on machine, contin-
|
||
|
uing)
|
||
|
...I'm in this sleazy bar called
|
||
|
Stoker's on Pico but I'm too
|
||
|
scared to leave. I'm really
|
||
|
scared, kiddo...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
82 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 82
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah cups the telephone's mouthpiece with her hand and
|
||
|
glances around frequently.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing, into
|
||
|
phone)
|
||
|
...I think somebody's after me
|
||
|
and I sure hope you play this
|
||
|
soon 'cause I need you and Matt
|
||
|
to come pick me up. The police
|
||
|
keep transferring me around, but
|
||
|
I'm going to try them again.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
83 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BEDROOM - NIGHT 83
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing, B.G.)
|
||
|
The number here is 468-9175.
|
||
|
Call me, kiddo. I need you.
|
||
|
It's Stoker's on Pico. Bye.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator is rapidly and methodically rifling the contents
|
||
|
of Sarah's small desk. SIREN'S WAIL, approaching.
|
||
|
He picks up a small card.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - CARD. It is Sarah's college I.D. card, complete with
|
||
|
color photo of her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MACRO ON PICTURE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR'S EYES as he tosses the card down,
|
||
|
after a fraction of a second's scan. Picks up something else.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SARAH'S ADDRESS BOOK, Terminator pockets this and
|
||
|
slips out the balcony door. Climbing over the railing, he
|
||
|
is gone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
84 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 84
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is huddled, back to the wall, beside the phone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(on phone, upset)
|
||
|
...look, Lieutenant...uh,
|
||
|
Vukovich, don't put me on
|
||
|
hold and don't transfer me
|
||
|
to another department...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
85 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 85
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(on phone)
|
||
|
I won't. Now just relax.
|
||
|
Where are you?
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Yeah, I know it...on Pico.
|
||
|
Are you alright?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
86 INT. STOKER'S BAT - NIGHT 86
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(on phone)
|
||
|
Yes, but I don't want to
|
||
|
leave. I think this guy's
|
||
|
following me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
87 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 87
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(on phone)
|
||
|
Alright, Ms. Connor. Listen
|
||
|
carefully. You're in a public
|
||
|
place, you'll be safe 'til we
|
||
|
get there. Stay visible.
|
||
|
Don't go outside or in the
|
||
|
restroom. I'll be there in
|
||
|
a few minutes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He hangs up and grabs his coat, motioning to Traxler.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Let's roll.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
88 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 88
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah takes a seat at a booth near the bar, and picks up
|
||
|
a dog-eared menu, but can't concentrate on it. She looks
|
||
|
at her watch and glances around.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
89 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 89
|
||
|
|
||
|
The yellow Maverick hurtles along an empty street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSER ANGLE as streetlight glare slashes across Terminator's
|
||
|
face in flaring pulses.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
90 INT. PLAIN CAR - NIGHT 90
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich draws his Colt Python .357 Magnum and check the
|
||
|
load. Traxler is driving.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Let's see how this guy likes
|
||
|
playing hard-ball.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
91 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 91
|
||
|
|
||
|
The waitress set a cup of coffee in front of Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WAITRESS
|
||
|
Anything else?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah shakes her head "No" and contemplates her trembling
|
||
|
hands. She half-turns, catching a glimpse of herself in
|
||
|
the mirror behind the bar.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SARAH, reflected in the mirror. In the F.G. a
|
||
|
man at the bar looks up from his beer, straight into her eyes.
|
||
|
It is Reese.
|
||
|
He gazes at her coolly for a moment, then glances away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH, feeling trapped, frantic.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON FRONT DOOR as it opens and a figure stands silhou-
|
||
|
etted briefly against a streetlight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese turns, his eyes flickering to the mirror, the figure.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE as he mechanically raises his beer. His knuckles
|
||
|
are white. He slowly undoes the top button of his overcoat.
|
||
|
There is a glint of metal in the shadows within.
|
||
|
Reese turns slowly on his barstool as the figure brushes past
|
||
|
him, out-of-focus F.G.
|
||
|
Sarah looks up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - REESE'S HAND sliding slowly along polished steel,
|
||
|
a caress. His finger slips through the triggerguard of the
|
||
|
riot gun.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON SARAH, as the man stops in front of her in close F.G.
|
||
|
He sits slowly in the booth opposite her. The angle is OVER
|
||
|
HIS SHOULDER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(uncertainly)
|
||
|
Lieutenant Vukovich?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REVERSE ANGLE - It is not Lt. Vukovich.
|
||
|
Terminator sits motionless for a BEAT.
|
||
|
Blue eyes so pure and deep. The eyes of a saint, perhaps.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The .45 is out and cocked and AIMED DIRECTLY AT CAMERA, almost
|
||
|
in one motion.
|
||
|
The bore seems enormous.
|
||
|
|
||
|
BACK ON SARAH, over the gun barrel, her eyes go wide. We hold
|
||
|
a BEAT, like a frozen slice of nightmare.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON REESE as he whips the riot-gun to a hip-firing posi-
|
||
|
tion, his overcoat falling back with a snap. HE FIRES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON TERMINATOR, as the shotgun blast hits his arm and he FIRES,
|
||
|
simultaneously. Sarah screams as the .45 round blows stuffing
|
||
|
out of the booth seat inches from her face. Her hair is
|
||
|
singed by burning gunpowder. An involuntary cry is punched
|
||
|
out of her by the double concussions.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is stroking up another shell as Terminator half-rises
|
||
|
from booth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
OVER REESE'S SHOULDER, as he fires, cocks the slide, fires
|
||
|
again, advancing on Sarah's booth.
|
||
|
Terminator is blown backward over the center divider,
|
||
|
crashing through the glasses and pitchers of beer on the
|
||
|
table opposite, and onto the floor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is screaming, scrunched down in the booth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator is lying on his back at the feet of a table-
|
||
|
full of drunk patrons.
|
||
|
He has two rifled 12 gauge slugs in his chest and one
|
||
|
in the arm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The bar customers are frozen in the weird tableau, cowering,
|
||
|
gaping.
|
||
|
Sarah stops screaming.
|
||
|
Reese stand motionless, gun aimed.
|
||
|
In the sudden silence, the sound of him cocking the shotgun
|
||
|
is abnormally loud.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON TERMINATOR, very still.
|
||
|
Then he smoothly rolls to a crouch and slips the UZI machine
|
||
|
pistol from beneath his overcoat, where it has been hang-
|
||
|
ing on a shoulder strap.
|
||
|
He doesn't seem too impaired as he swings around to fire.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese rolls like a cat and comes up firing.
|
||
|
A burst from the UZI rakes the bar where he stood.
|
||
|
An orgy of shattering glass.
|
||
|
Total pandemonium.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SEVERAL ANGLES as patrons of the bar run, scream or dive
|
||
|
for cover, depending upon their level of intelligence.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese slides through the glass to Sarah's booth and seizes
|
||
|
her wrists.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON TERMINATOR, kneeling amid the chaos, raising the UZI
|
||
|
one-handed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese tugs viciously on Sarah's arm and she sprawls across
|
||
|
the booth seat a moment before the divider and seat cushion
|
||
|
erupt with hits from the UZI.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON A RUNNING PATRON as a burst of 9mm fire catches
|
||
|
him in the chest. He pitches into Sarah's booth, pinning
|
||
|
her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese fires, ducks, fires again.
|
||
|
Tables crash over.
|
||
|
A window is blown out.
|
||
|
A table candle rolls into a pool of high-proof alcohol
|
||
|
behind the bar.
|
||
|
It ignites with a WHOOSH.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese feed two shells into the riot-gun.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, an island of slow, precise movement
|
||
|
amid the confusion. He drops a spent clip. Reaches for
|
||
|
another with his bloody hand.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH REESE as he vaults the row of booths and starts
|
||
|
firing. At point blank range he unloads the shotgun into
|
||
|
Terminator's belly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
92 INT./EXT. STOKER'S/STREET - NIGHT 92
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator crashes backwards through two tables and a plate
|
||
|
glass window into the street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
93 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 93
|
||
|
|
||
|
The roaring fire behind the bar is spreading very quickly.
|
||
|
The air is thick with smoke.
|
||
|
Reese tosses the UZI, for which he has no ammo, into the
|
||
|
fire. He hauls the dead man off Sarah and reaches for her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SARAH, shrinking away from Reese, hysterical.
|
||
|
When he grabs her wrist she struggles, eyes wide.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, very intense.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Come with me if you want
|
||
|
to live.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She looks where he is pointing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
94 EXT. STOKER'S BAR/STREET - NIGHT 94
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator is rising unsteadily to his feet. Shattered
|
||
|
glass rains from him, except where it sticks to his blood-
|
||
|
drenched shirt and coat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR, as he slowly look up, his blue eyes
|
||
|
riveting STRAIGHT INTO THE CAMERA.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
95 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 95
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH, feeling a lightning blot of terror greater
|
||
|
than she could ever imagine as the cold gaze fixes on her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(awed whisper)
|
||
|
Oh my God...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
96 INT./EXT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 96
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he clambers back through
|
||
|
the window and starts through the burning bar.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
97 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 97
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE MOVING IN ON REESE AND SARAH as he runs, drag-
|
||
|
ging her with him, toward the back.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REVERSE ON TERMINATOR, DOLLYING as he crashed through the
|
||
|
wreckage in the swirling smoke, hurling burning tables out
|
||
|
of his way.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
98 INT. KITCHEN/HALLWAY/EXIT CORRIDOR 98
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH, running headlong
|
||
|
through the cluttered kitchen, then down a narrow back
|
||
|
hallway. Sarah stumbles and Reese brutally pulls her to
|
||
|
her feet without slowing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He hits a closed door, which crashes open.
|
||
|
Hauls Sarah through, into another corridor.
|
||
|
Slams and blot-latches it.
|
||
|
An instant later an impact from the far side tears the
|
||
|
latch-screws half out of the wall.
|
||
|
They run on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
99 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 99
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator takes a step back from the closed door and
|
||
|
slams into it again. It starts to give way.
|
||
|
behind him the flames engulf a CAN OF CLEANING SOLVENT.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
100 INT./EXT. EXIT CORRIDOR/ALLEY - NIGHT 100
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese and Sarah pelt down the narrow corridor, fling open
|
||
|
the outside door and spin out into the alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON DOOR at far end. It splinters open and Terminator
|
||
|
sprints down the corridor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
101 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 101
|
||
|
|
||
|
The cleaning solvent EXPLODES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
102 INT. EXIT CORRIDOR - NIGHT 102
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOLLYING AHEAD OF TERMINATOR, very fast, as he runs full-
|
||
|
throttle. Behind him a fireball of superheated gas hurtles
|
||
|
down the narrow hallway. He clears the outer door an
|
||
|
instant before the tongue of flame roars out into the alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
103 EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF STOKER'S - NIGHT 103
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich's plain car arrives, slewing to a stop in the
|
||
|
glass-littered street in front of the blazing building.
|
||
|
He leaps out, Traxler right in behind him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
What the fuck is going on?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TWO LAPD UNITS arrive behind them. He motions to the
|
||
|
nearest one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Cover the alley in back.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He heads for the inferno at a run.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
104 EXT. ALLEY BEHIND STOKER'S - NIGHT 104
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOLLYING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they run through the
|
||
|
dark alley. Sarah stumbles over trashcans.
|
||
|
Reese pulls her along mercilessly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WHIP-PANNING as they clear a corner.
|
||
|
The B.G. is a blur.
|
||
|
The night-maze is a blur in all of these shots.
|
||
|
No static angles.
|
||
|
Relentless forward motion.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
105/FX EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 105/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
Behind them Terminator is moving with inhuman speed,
|
||
|
bounding like a panther, leaping trash cans and other
|
||
|
obstacles.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRACKING C.U. - TERMINATOR, catching the faintest glimpse
|
||
|
of a red glow in the pupils of his eyes as he passes through
|
||
|
total shadow.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
106/FX EXT. ALLEY/POV - TERMINATOR (HANDHELD) - NIGHT 106/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
We know this is Terminator's POV because Sarah and Reese
|
||
|
are just ahead of us. But the image is bizarre, alien.
|
||
|
Bright and hyper-real. There is a hint of digitization,
|
||
|
and the fleeing figures ahead are more luminous than the
|
||
|
background, suggesting infra-red.
|
||
|
The margins of the FRAME are crammed with columns of CRT-
|
||
|
type characters: columns of numbers and acronyms. The
|
||
|
data changes more rapidly than any human eye could follow.
|
||
|
There is no doubt that we are seeing as a machine would see.
|
||
|
The sound effects are bright and clear, as if they are
|
||
|
digitized and enhanced as well.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
107 EXT. ADJOINING ALLEY - NIGHT 107
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese and Sarah turn a corner by caroming off the wall
|
||
|
without slowing and pelt down a narrower alley. This
|
||
|
one is lined with a row of parked cars and connects to
|
||
|
the street. There is little room to run.
|
||
|
Reese is reloading on the run, dropping shells.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Behind them Terminator enters the alley, gaining.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE, FAST PANAGLIDE ahead of the fleeing pair.
|
||
|
As they breast the last car Reese shoves Sarah hard,
|
||
|
pitching her on her face to the pavement.
|
||
|
He flings open the car door...a shield.
|
||
|
Drops to the ground.
|
||
|
Fires into the gas tank of a car further back in the row
|
||
|
just before Terminator reaches it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The car EXPLODES, filling the alley with fire. An inferno
|
||
|
funneled between the enclosing walls.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON REESE AND SARAH behind the car door as flames
|
||
|
roar over the hood.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON TERMINATOR, as he slides to a stop, cut off by the
|
||
|
wall of flame.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese doesn't waste any time stuffing Sarah into the car.
|
||
|
Climbing in after and over her he twists two wires together
|
||
|
and we recognize it as his stolen GREY SEDAN.
|
||
|
The engine catches.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A SILHOUETTE rockets out of the flames.
|
||
|
Terminator, leaping from the roof of the blazing car ahead,
|
||
|
impacts on the hood of Reese's car. His hair and coat are
|
||
|
burning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
108 INT./EXT. GREY SEDAN/ALLEY - NIGHT 108
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese jams reverse and nail the throttle.
|
||
|
The car backs down the alley.
|
||
|
Terminator draws back his fist.
|
||
|
Punches into the windshield.
|
||
|
Inside, Sarah is sprayed with glass as the killer's fist
|
||
|
shoots through.
|
||
|
The lacerated fingers grope for her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE as the car shoots backwards out of the alley onto the
|
||
|
street, narrowly missing an arriving LAPD CRUISER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah plasters herself tightly into the seat as the
|
||
|
fingers grasp her blouse and pull.
|
||
|
Reese cranks the wheel hard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
109 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 109
|
||
|
|
||
|
The sedan skids, slewing sideways into a parked car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator rolls down off onto the pavement.
|
||
|
Reese's car shoots forward.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANNING WITH SEDAN as it roars past Vukovich, the gathering
|
||
|
minions of the burning building, an arriving fire
|
||
|
truck...shoots through a red light and continues to accel-
|
||
|
erate.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator gets to a kneeling position, then slowly stands.
|
||
|
He pats out his smoldering clothing as he watches his quarry
|
||
|
escape.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
110 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 110
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON VUKOVICH as he runs to his car, exhorting the nearby
|
||
|
LAPD guys to give pursuit, while Traxler grabs the radio.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Go! Go! He's got her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(overlapping)
|
||
|
Suspect westbound on
|
||
|
Olympic. Grey sedan. Has
|
||
|
hostage, repeat...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
111 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 111
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW WIDE ANGLE on the empty street, which is narrow and
|
||
|
tightly lines with parked cars.
|
||
|
The ROAR of an engine builds.
|
||
|
The sedan, like a night-demon, hurtles out of the shadows
|
||
|
with its lights off, doing ninety plus.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
112 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 112
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is in a daze.
|
||
|
Paralyzed. Face bloodless.
|
||
|
She is shivering silently, uncontrollably.
|
||
|
Her eyes are wide, and it seems likely that she doesn't
|
||
|
quite comprehend the roaring blur outside her window.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(calmly)
|
||
|
Hold on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
113 EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT 113
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE ANGLE, CLOSE TO SEDAN, and following it as it hurtles
|
||
|
around a corner in an expertly controlled slide.
|
||
|
Then a high speed sprint down the cross-street.
|
||
|
Reese squirrels the vehicle between a slow-moving car
|
||
|
ahead and oncoming traffic.
|
||
|
A dive into another dark side street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
114 INT. GRAY SEDAN - NIGHT 114
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese drives with total, nerveless absorption. His eyes
|
||
|
flick to the mirror, to the road, over his shoulder, back
|
||
|
...and the world spins outside.
|
||
|
With occasional glances to Sarah, he speaks to her in a
|
||
|
clipped, military voice.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Are you injured? Are you
|
||
|
shot?
|
||
|
|
||
|
No response.
|
||
|
He reaches over and runs his hands over her arms, legs,
|
||
|
chest. Sarah flinches.
|
||
|
She feels the BLIND PANIC BOILING UP WITHIN HER.
|
||
|
She pushes his hand away and opens the door.
|
||
|
Reese slams her back in the seat and slaps her. Hard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Do exactly what I say.
|
||
|
Exactly. Don't move un-
|
||
|
less I say. Don't make a
|
||
|
sound unless I say. Do
|
||
|
you understand?
|
||
|
|
||
|
As he speaks he is locking the door and fastening Sarah's
|
||
|
seatbelt over her, cinching it very tightly, like you would
|
||
|
for a child. She doesn't answer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing/
|
||
|
shouting)
|
||
|
Do you understand?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(a whisper)
|
||
|
Yes. Don't hurt me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
I'm here to help you. Reese,
|
||
|
Sergeant/Tech-Com, DN38416...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah stares numbly at his outstretched hand. With zero
|
||
|
strength she automatically returns his handshake.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Assigned to protect you.
|
||
|
You've been targetted for
|
||
|
termination.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
115 EXT. SIDE STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 115
|
||
|
|
||
|
The walls of a narrow alley, inky black, frame a police
|
||
|
cruiser parked on the street beyond. Firelight from the
|
||
|
back of Stoker's lights the street garishly.
|
||
|
A young cop stands beside the car talking via radio with
|
||
|
the mike cord pulled through the side window. He speaks
|
||
|
with a distinctive twang--a displaced southerner.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COP
|
||
|
...I don't know, it looks
|
||
|
like it might spread to this
|
||
|
furniture warehouse across
|
||
|
the alley, the paint on the
|
||
|
wall's starting to blister
|
||
|
up...
|
||
|
|
||
|
The sweeping headlights of a turning car momentarily illuminate
|
||
|
the face of Terminator, motionless in the dark right in
|
||
|
front of us.
|
||
|
Eyes open. Listening.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COP
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Better get another truck
|
||
|
round to this side.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator's silhouette emerges from the blackness and
|
||
|
strides purposefully toward the cop, CAMERA following.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The officer whirls and reaches for his gun but Terminator
|
||
|
flings him brutally into the side of the car, steps over
|
||
|
him and opens the door.
|
||
|
Before getting in he notes the unit number on the roof: 143.
|
||
|
Then he slides behind the wheel, slips the squad car into
|
||
|
gear, and pulls out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA PRECEDING CAR, HIDE WIDE ANGLE, as it accelerates
|
||
|
rapidly, until the lines across the street are flashing
|
||
|
under it in a staccato rhythm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
116 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 116
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is slumped way down in the seat, turned away from the
|
||
|
window, trying not to see the landscape reeling outside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(hoarse whisper)
|
||
|
This is a mistake. I haven't
|
||
|
done anything.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
No. But you will. It's
|
||
|
very important that you
|
||
|
live.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah closes her eyes, as if to shut it all out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I can't believe this is happen-
|
||
|
ing. How could than man get up
|
||
|
after you...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's tone is equal parts hatred and respect as he replies.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Not a man. A Terminator.
|
||
|
Cyber Dynamics Model 101.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
117 INT. SQUAD CAR - NIGHT 117
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator drives expressionlessly, monitoring the babble
|
||
|
from Central Dispatch. He hears his number.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
...Suspect vehicle sighted on
|
||
|
Motor at Pico, southbound.
|
||
|
Units Two-Zero-Six and Five-
|
||
|
Seven, attempt intercept.
|
||
|
Unit One-Four-Three, come in.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator picks up the mike. He speaks in a
|
||
|
simulation of the young cop's southern twang.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
This is One-Four-Three. West-
|
||
|
bound on Olympic, approaching
|
||
|
Overland.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
118 EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - NIGHT 118
|
||
|
|
||
|
The grey sedan moves through traffic like a hell-bent
|
||
|
wraith. Reese has the hammer down. He handles the
|
||
|
car with nerves of steel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
119 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 119
|
||
|
|
||
|
Below, Reese's sedan snakes along at 110 plus. The
|
||
|
chopper, F.G., drops toward it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PILOT (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
Air-unit Two. We're on him.
|
||
|
Westbound Santa Monica at 405.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
120 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 120
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
A machine? You mean, like
|
||
|
a robot?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Not a robot. Cyborg.
|
||
|
Cybernetic Organism.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They have to yell over the roar of air through the broken
|
||
|
windshield.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
But...he was bleeding.
|
||
|
|
||
|
At that moment a blinding light sears down on them from
|
||
|
above. Reese looks over his left shoulder and sees a
|
||
|
CHP cruiser coming alongside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Just a second. Keep your
|
||
|
head down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
121 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 121
|
||
|
|
||
|
The helicopter is right above the, its spotlight burning
|
||
|
on Reese. The cruiser flanks them, closing. Reese peels
|
||
|
off to the right, inches in front of a tractor-trailer rig,
|
||
|
brakes hard and slides into a four-wheel drift through a
|
||
|
curving off-ramp.
|
||
|
The helicopter banks, following.
|
||
|
The cruiser swaps ends trying to maneuver and slams broad-
|
||
|
side into the guardrail. Out of action.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
122 EXT. OFF RAMP/INTERSECTION - NIGHT 122
|
||
|
|
||
|
The sedan roars across the street without slowing
|
||
|
and vanishes down a tree-lined side street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
123 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 123
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOWN ANGLE - AERIAL past the chopper, F.G., as its searchlight
|
||
|
sweeps over the close-knit treetops.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
124 EXT. SIDE STREET/INTERSECTION - NIGHT 124
|
||
|
|
||
|
The sedan skids around a corner, F.G., as the searchlight
|
||
|
filters in shafts through the trees further down the street,
|
||
|
sweeping futility back and forth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
125 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 125
|
||
|
|
||
|
It hovers indecisively, then banks off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PILOT (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
Lost him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
126 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 126
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is ultra-alert, craning to look up, back, forward.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Good cover.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Alright. Listen.
|
||
|
The Terminator's an infil-
|
||
|
tration unit. Part man, part
|
||
|
machine. Underneath, it's a
|
||
|
hyperalloy combat chassis,
|
||
|
mircoprocessor-controlled,
|
||
|
fully armored. Very tough...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He pauses as they slide around another corner.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
127 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 127
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's sedan glides out onto a main drag, very subdued.
|
||
|
He turns the lights on and blends with traffic.
|
||
|
The helicopter crosses laterally in the distance.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
128 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 128
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
But outside, it's living
|
||
|
human tissue. Flesh, skin,
|
||
|
hair...blood. Grown for the
|
||
|
cyborgs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Look, Reese, I know you want
|
||
|
to help, but...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(cutting her off)
|
||
|
Pay attention. The 600
|
||
|
series had rubber skin.
|
||
|
We spotted them easy. But
|
||
|
these are new. They look
|
||
|
human. Sweat, bad breath,
|
||
|
everything. Very hard to
|
||
|
spot. I had to wait 'til
|
||
|
he moved on you before I
|
||
|
could zero him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Hey, I'm not stupid, y'know.
|
||
|
They can't build anything like
|
||
|
that yet.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
No. Not yet. Not for about
|
||
|
forty years.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is driving sedately for a low profile, but his eyes
|
||
|
rove constantly, searching for a place to ditch the car.
|
||
|
Sarah's eyes are alert as well, and her tone becomes a bit
|
||
|
too cool.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
So, it's from the future, is
|
||
|
that right?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
One possible future. Four your
|
||
|
point of view. I don't know the
|
||
|
tech stuff.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
And you're from the future too?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Right.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They come to a red light and Reese stops.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(patronizingly)
|
||
|
Right...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Like a shot she unlatches the seatbelt, pulls the door lock
|
||
|
and has the door half open before Reese can react. He catches
|
||
|
her arm and hauls her struggling back into the car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah sinks her teeth into his hand with all her strength.
|
||
|
His grip doesn't slacken.
|
||
|
Slowly, without releasing her, he reaches across with his
|
||
|
other hand and shuts the door. His face shows no reaction.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah draws back and stares at the blood running down his
|
||
|
arm from the bite, that at his grim, scarred face. The
|
||
|
light turns green and Reese drives on.
|
||
|
Sarah tastes blood and wipes her mouth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(coldly)
|
||
|
Cyborgs don't feel pain. I
|
||
|
do. Don't...do that...again.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He wipes his hand on his pants.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(weakly, plead-
|
||
|
ing)
|
||
|
Just let me go.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(slow, but intense)
|
||
|
Listen. Understand. That
|
||
|
Terminator is out there. It
|
||
|
can't be reasoned with, it can't
|
||
|
be bargained with...it doesn't
|
||
|
feel pity of remorse or fear...
|
||
|
and it absolutely will not stop.
|
||
|
Ever. Until you are dead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah slump in utter resignation.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(quietly)
|
||
|
Can you stop it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese doesn't look at her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Maybe. With these weapons...
|
||
|
I don't know.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
129 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 129
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's car turns into the parking lot of a large hospital,
|
||
|
acres of pavement dotted with sporadic parked cars.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
130 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER - NIGHT 130
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE THROUGH WINDSHIELD, ON TERMINATOR, as he searches.
|
||
|
Streetlights flare across rhythmically.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
131 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 131
|
||
|
|
||
|
It moves between two buildings, searchlight sweeping back
|
||
|
and forth. DOWN ANGLE, past the chopper, as the circle of
|
||
|
light moves across a row of parked cars.
|
||
|
It passes a grey sedan with a shattered windshield.
|
||
|
Flicks back. Holds.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHTER ON CAR, GROUND LEVEL, in the glare and propwash.
|
||
|
It looks empty.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
132 EXT. PARKING LOT/NEARBY - NIGHT 132
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE DOLLY, MOVING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they crawl
|
||
|
behind a row of parked cars.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He has firm hold of her arm but she seems to be cooperating.
|
||
|
In the B.G., the chopper hovers, on the far side of the lot.
|
||
|
Reese approaches the door of a late model brown Buick which
|
||
|
has been left with its window partway down.
|
||
|
He unlocks it and they slip inside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
133 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER - NIGHT 133
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, through the windshield of the black-
|
||
|
and-white.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DISPATCHER (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
Suspect vehicle located at
|
||
|
parking lot, Cedar and Glen-
|
||
|
haven...
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT as Terminator's cruiser slews in a radical turn
|
||
|
and roars off in the opposite direction.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
134 INT./EXT. BROWN BUICK/PARKING LOT - NIGHT 134
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese uses the butt of the shotgun to smash loose the
|
||
|
ignition assembly. He begins working on the wires. A
|
||
|
police cruiser appears, moving slowly between the rows of
|
||
|
cars.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese grabs Sarah and pulls her down to huddle below dash
|
||
|
level. A moment later a spotlight flashes across the seats
|
||
|
above them. They hear the helicopter circling closer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Reese...why me? Why does
|
||
|
it want me?
|
||
|
|
||
|
They are lying very close, a forced intimacy. Reese's voice
|
||
|
is an urgent whisper, almost in her ear. A cruiser passes
|
||
|
so close they can hear its radio clearly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
There's so much...
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Tell me. Just start at the
|
||
|
beginning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese musters his thoughts. And starts.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
There was a war. A few years
|
||
|
from now. Nuclear war. The
|
||
|
whole thing. All this--
|
||
|
|
||
|
His gesture includes the car, the city, the world.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
--everythingis gone. Just
|
||
|
gone. There were survivors.
|
||
|
Here. There. Nobody knew who
|
||
|
started it.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
It was the machines.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I don't understand...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Defense network computer. New.
|
||
|
Powerful. Hooked into everything.
|
||
|
Trusted to run it all. They say it
|
||
|
got smart...a new order of intelli-
|
||
|
gence. Then it saw all people as
|
||
|
a threat, not just the ones on the
|
||
|
other side. Decided out fate in a
|
||
|
microsecond...extermination.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese pauses, and when he continues it's less like a military
|
||
|
briefing, quieter.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Didn't see the war. I was born
|
||
|
after, in the ruins. Grew up
|
||
|
there. Starving. Hiding from
|
||
|
the H-K's.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
The what?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Hunter Killers. Patrol machines.
|
||
|
Build in automated factories.
|
||
|
Most of us were rounded up, put in
|
||
|
camps...for orderly disposal.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket and shows
|
||
|
her a ten digit number etches on the skin of his forearm.
|
||
|
Beneath the numbers is a pattern of lines like the auto-
|
||
|
matic-pricing marks on product packages.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Burned in by laser scan.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Some of us were kept alive...
|
||
|
to work. Loading bodies. The
|
||
|
disposal units ran night and day.
|
||
|
We were that close to going out
|
||
|
forever...
|
||
|
|
||
|
The helicopter moves overhead. Its searchlight illum-
|
||
|
inates the car interior, moves on. Before the rotor
|
||
|
sound fads, Reese starts the car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
135 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 135
|
||
|
|
||
|
Several black-and-whites are moving among the parked
|
||
|
cars, slowly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON TERMINATOR'S CRUISER rolling along just above
|
||
|
idle. He peers into the row of cars, listening and
|
||
|
seeing on level we can't.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
136 INT. BROWN BUICK - NIGHT 136
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is holding onto Sarah's shoulder tightly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
...but there was one man...who
|
||
|
taught us to fight. To storm
|
||
|
the wire of the camps. To
|
||
|
smash those metal mother-
|
||
|
fuckers into junk. He turned
|
||
|
it around...he brought us back
|
||
|
from the brink.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
His name is Connor. John Connor...
|
||
|
your son, Sarah. Your unborn son.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah stared at him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
137 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 137
|
||
|
|
||
|
The brown Buick is F.G. as the nose of Terminator's cruiser
|
||
|
appears behind it, moving slowly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR, scanning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE, past the back of the Buick, as Terminator
|
||
|
cruises by. The tailpipe, F.G., puffs quietly.
|
||
|
Terminator's head snaps around.
|
||
|
His eyes lock on Reese's car.
|
||
|
He reaches for his shotgun.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
138 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 138
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's head jerks up, looking in the mirror.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
139 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 139
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's car launches forward from its space, tires
|
||
|
spinning as Terminator fires from the window of the
|
||
|
cruiser.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
140 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 140
|
||
|
|
||
|
The rear window explodes and Reese ducks, then cranks
|
||
|
the wheel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
141 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 141
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese and Terminator race along opposite sides of a
|
||
|
row of cars, approaching the exit.
|
||
|
The cruiser pulls ahead and closes diagonally as they
|
||
|
clear the last car.
|
||
|
Reese sees the other's shotgun leveled.
|
||
|
He ducks, steering blind, keeps it floored.
|
||
|
The windshield and side window EXPLODES INWARD.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Buick slams into the black-and-white, spinning it into
|
||
|
a parked truck. TIRES SCREAM as the two cars slew around
|
||
|
heading for the exit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SEVERAL ANGLES, as the police react.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The chopper banks tight and dives across the tops of
|
||
|
the parked cars. Cruisers race to converge.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
143 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 143
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW WIDE ANGLE, PRECEDING REESE'S BUICK as it hits the
|
||
|
street, accelerating. Terminator's cruiser slides out
|
||
|
behind it, fishtails, races forward.
|
||
|
Engines roar as the cars go flat out. Buildings lining
|
||
|
the street become a blur.
|
||
|
The chopper arcs in behind them.
|
||
|
Legitimate police, lights blazing, enter the pursuit
|
||
|
one by one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE, MOVING WITH TERMINATOR'S CAR as Reese dodges
|
||
|
across all lanes ahead of it.
|
||
|
Terminator gaining.
|
||
|
They run an intersection at a hundred plus.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
144 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 144
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is feeding his last two shells into the riot gun.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(yelling)
|
||
|
Steer!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Holding the gun is both hands he leans out the window,
|
||
|
still keeping the throttle mashed down.
|
||
|
Sarah grabs the wheel, fighting to control the car.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
145 EXT. STREET/BUICK - NIGHT 145
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH THE BUICK, looking back, as Reese aims the
|
||
|
shotgun, buffeted by the windstream.
|
||
|
Terminator's car, B.G., overtakes rapidly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Reese!
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
146 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 146
|
||
|
|
||
|
OVER SARAH'S SHOULDER as they approach an intersection...
|
||
|
red light their way and an ALPHA BETA TRUCK entering cross
|
||
|
wise.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
147 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 147
|
||
|
|
||
|
Past Terminator, F.G., his shotgun aimed as he comes along
|
||
|
side...at Reese.
|
||
|
They are staring down each other's barrels.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
148 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 148
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah grabs the shift lever.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - SHIFTER, as she slams it into reverse.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
149 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 149
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH BOTH CARS as the Buick skids with rear tires
|
||
|
locked. Reese and Terminator FIRE simultaneously.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON REESE as the doorpost next to his shoulder is
|
||
|
torn out by the other's blast.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON TERMINATOR, leaning to see around his shattered wind-
|
||
|
shield. Too late.
|
||
|
He hurtles into the intersection, past the skidding Buick.
|
||
|
Clips the back of the semi.
|
||
|
Spins radically.
|
||
|
Vaults the curb in a screeching front-end roll.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WHIP-PANNING WITH THE CRUISER as it crashes upside-down
|
||
|
through the counter area of an A & W.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE as Reese and Sarah slide to a stop in a cloud
|
||
|
of tire smoke.
|
||
|
Transmission fluid pours out of the car like blood.
|
||
|
An instant later they are surrounded by an assortment of
|
||
|
LAPD, SHERIFF'S DEPT., and CHP CARS.
|
||
|
The helicopter hovers overhead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON SARAH AND REESE, he raises his hands, through
|
||
|
the side window, in plain sight. A phalanx of cops, guns
|
||
|
drawn, approaches the car warily.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks at Reese. Then at the cops. She opens the door
|
||
|
and runs, staggering, toward them. Vukovich steps forward
|
||
|
and pulls her away to safety.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE watching her go as a cop eases his door open.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
150 EXT. A & W - NIGHT 150
|
||
|
|
||
|
Two cops approach the overturned squad car jammed into the
|
||
|
wreckage of the small building.
|
||
|
They shine their flashlights inside.
|
||
|
It is empty.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The cyborg has VANISHED.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A sign which reads 'DRIVE IN' detaches from an awning and
|
||
|
crashed down across the crushed auto.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
151 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 151
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah, huddles in a blanket, is siting on a bench opposite
|
||
|
Vukovich's desk. Motionless. Her eyes are fixed on the
|
||
|
middle distance. She's been crying. Now she's emptied out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The door opens.
|
||
|
At the sound of the latch Sarah jerks as if struck, and cringes
|
||
|
involuntarily. Vukovich enters with Traxler and DR. PETER
|
||
|
SILBERMAN, a criminal psychologist. Silberman is smooth
|
||
|
of skin and manner, young, ambitious and...fat. He is
|
||
|
enthusiastic about the workings of the human psyche, as
|
||
|
emotionally involved as someone pulling the wings off a fly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich sits beside Sarah and hands her a cup of coffee.
|
||
|
He puts a paternal arm around her shoulders.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Here, drink some of this...
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(voice flat,
|
||
|
desperate)
|
||
|
Lieutenant, are you sure it's
|
||
|
them? Maybe I should see the
|
||
|
...bodies.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
They've already been identi-
|
||
|
fied. There's no doubt.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah begins to cry again, slowly and very quickly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(to herself)
|
||
|
Of, God...Ginger...kiddo,
|
||
|
I'm so sorry.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich takes the coffee cup from her as her arms sag and
|
||
|
it starts to spill.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(gently)
|
||
|
Sarah.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Sarah, this is Dr. Silber-
|
||
|
man. I'd like you to tell
|
||
|
him everything Reese said
|
||
|
to you. Do you feel up to it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(almost in-
|
||
|
audible)
|
||
|
I guess so.
|
||
|
(to Silberman)
|
||
|
You're a doctor?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
A criminal psychologist.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Is Reese crazy?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
That's what we're going to
|
||
|
find out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
152 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 152
|
||
|
|
||
|
The room costs five dollars a night and that's steep, but
|
||
|
the FIRE ESCAPE outside the window adds an element of
|
||
|
strategic value.
|
||
|
A silhouette slips in through the window and click on the
|
||
|
single BARE LIGHT BULB.
|
||
|
It's Terminator, and he's a mess.
|
||
|
A bloody scarecrow with bullet wounds in stomach, chest,
|
||
|
shoulder and right wrist.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR as he sits at a ratty folding table
|
||
|
under the light.
|
||
|
His eyebrows are singed off.
|
||
|
Hair a charred stubble.
|
||
|
Left eyes glistening with imbedded glass shards.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Before him on the table is an array of SMALL TOOLS.
|
||
|
He removes the charred remains of his jacket and props.
|
||
|
one elbow on the table.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE PAST HIS NON-FUNCTIONAL RIGHT ARM, F.G., as he exam-
|
||
|
ines it. He picks up an X-ACTO KNIFE and cuts deeply into
|
||
|
the skin of his forearm.
|
||
|
His expression is one of mild concentration.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - FOREARM, as he pulls back a large flap of skin to
|
||
|
reveal a complex trunk of SHEATHED CABLES AND HYDRAULICS.
|
||
|
They slide as he moves his fingers.
|
||
|
|
||
|
RESUME MEDIUM, as Terminator uses a rag to wipe away the
|
||
|
blood. With small screwdrivers he begins to patiently dis-
|
||
|
assemble the damaged mechanism around the 12-guage hit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
153 INT. DIVISION HQ/INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 153
|
||
|
|
||
|
The room is small, furnished with only a table and two chairs.
|
||
|
Reese, his arms handcuffed behind him, sits opposite Dr.
|
||
|
Silberman. Behind Silberman is a large mirror. A DETECTIVE
|
||
|
leans against the wall.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
So. You're a soldier.
|
||
|
Fighting for whom?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
With the One Thirty Second
|
||
|
under Perry, from '21 to '27--
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(interrupting)
|
||
|
The year 2027?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
154 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM 154
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich and Traxler are seated in the dark room, watching
|
||
|
Reese, B.G., through the two-way mirror. Just behind the
|
||
|
glass is a VIDEO CAMERA ON A TRIPOD, aimed at Reese, and
|
||
|
a CART holding a SMALL MONITOR and VIDEOCASSETTE RECORDER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(through speaker)
|
||
|
That's right.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(quietly, to
|
||
|
Vukovich)
|
||
|
This is fucking great.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
155 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM 155
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Then I was assigned Recon/
|
||
|
Security, last two years,
|
||
|
under John Connor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
And who was the enemy?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
SKYNET. A computer defense system
|
||
|
built for SAC-NORAD by Cyber
|
||
|
Dynamics. A modified Series
|
||
|
4800.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(gravely)
|
||
|
I see. And this...computer,
|
||
|
thinks it can win by killing
|
||
|
the mother of its enemy, kill-
|
||
|
ing him, in effect, before he
|
||
|
is even conceived? A sort of
|
||
|
retroactive abortion?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Yes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
156 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM 156
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler snorts and grins.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(to Vukovich)
|
||
|
That Silberman just crack me up.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
He had this guy in here last week
|
||
|
who set his Afghan on fire.
|
||
|
Screwed it first, then set it on--
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(leaning forward)
|
||
|
Shut up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
157 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
...it had no choice.
|
||
|
The defensive grid was
|
||
|
smashed. We'd taken the
|
||
|
mainframes...
|
||
|
We'd won. Taking out
|
||
|
Connor then would make no
|
||
|
difference. Skynet had to
|
||
|
wipe out his entire exist-
|
||
|
ence. We captured the lab
|
||
|
complex. Found the...what-
|
||
|
ever it was called...the
|
||
|
time-displacement equipment.
|
||
|
The Terminator had already
|
||
|
gone through. They sent two
|
||
|
of us to intercept, then
|
||
|
zeroed the whole place.
|
||
|
Sumner didn't make it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
Then how are you supposed to
|
||
|
get back?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Can't. Nobody goes home.
|
||
|
Nobody else comes through.
|
||
|
It's just him and me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
158 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR, in profile, showing his lacerated eye.
|
||
|
He is close to a mirror, practically touching it, staring
|
||
|
intently.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MACRO - X-ACTO KNIFE lying on the dresser. Terminator's
|
||
|
fingers lift it. CAMERA TILTS TO FOLLOW as it rises to
|
||
|
his face, holds TIGHT ON left eye.
|
||
|
With a smooth motion the knife point enters the eyeball
|
||
|
and cuts away the ruins sclera and cornea, as well as part
|
||
|
of the damaged eyelids.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He wipes with a rag to clear the electronic eye's vision.
|
||
|
Revealing the faintly glowing lens mechanism, suspended in
|
||
|
a chrome socket by tiny servos.
|
||
|
The eye whirs quietly as it tracks.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SEQUENCE OF SHOTS, showing various repairs.
|
||
|
Terminator's right hand, its wrist SUTURED crudely, holds
|
||
|
a needle and sewing thread and starts to work on abdominal
|
||
|
wound out of frame below.
|
||
|
He slips a glove over the damaged hand.
|
||
|
A motoring cap over the blistered scalp.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A fresh shirt to hide his body wounds.
|
||
|
This is followed by a new overcoat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR, contemplating his reflection in the
|
||
|
mirror. With the hat pulled down, the collar pulled up,
|
||
|
and favoring his right profile he looks unhurt...though
|
||
|
a bit gaunt and pale.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A turn of his head brings the balefully glowing left eye
|
||
|
in its metal socket into view.
|
||
|
He slips on a pair of tight, wrap-around sunglasses.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT as he goes to the bed and flips up the stained
|
||
|
mattress. He picks up the Remington 12 gauge, the AR-180
|
||
|
and the .38 off the springs and leaves by the fire escape.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
159 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 159
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON VIDEO MONITOR showing Reese in the Interrogation
|
||
|
Room.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
...It's just him and me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT WIDE revealing Sarah, Silberman, Vukovich and Traxler
|
||
|
watching a monitor sitting amid incredible paperwork clutter
|
||
|
on a desk top.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Why didn't you bring any
|
||
|
weapons? Something more
|
||
|
advanced. Don't you have
|
||
|
ray guns?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler, standing in the back, grins and nudges Silberman,
|
||
|
who nods appreciatively.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON REESE'S RECORDED IMAGE - He glares at Silberman.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON SARAH, as Silberman's voice is heard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Show me a piece of future
|
||
|
technology.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded/con-
|
||
|
trolling his
|
||
|
hostility)
|
||
|
You go naked. Something about
|
||
|
the field generated by a living
|
||
|
organism. Nothing dead will go.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Why?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
I didn't build the fucking
|
||
|
thing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Okay. Okay. But this...
|
||
|
(consults his
|
||
|
notes)
|
||
|
cyborg...if it's metal...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Surrounded by living tissue.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Of course.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The real Silberman put the tape on "PAUSE".
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(excited)
|
||
|
This is great stuff. I could
|
||
|
make a career out of this guy.
|
||
|
You see how clever this part
|
||
|
is...how it doesn't require a
|
||
|
shred of proof. Most paranoid
|
||
|
delusions are intricate...but
|
||
|
this is brilliant.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He starts the tape again.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Why were the other two women
|
||
|
killed?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
Most official records were
|
||
|
lost in the war. The computer
|
||
|
knew almost nothing about
|
||
|
Connor's mother. Her name.
|
||
|
Where she lived, just the city.
|
||
|
No scanner pictures. The
|
||
|
Terminator was just being
|
||
|
systematic.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN, as he goes on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded, con-
|
||
|
tinuing)
|
||
|
You've heard enough. Decide.
|
||
|
Are you going to release me?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
I'm afraid that's not up
|
||
|
to me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded/voice
|
||
|
rising)
|
||
|
Then why am I talking to you?
|
||
|
Get out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ON SARAH, DOLLYING SLOWLY IN TO C.U. as we hear Reese
|
||
|
begin to shout.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
I can help you...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Who is in authority here?
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. REESE, ON SCREEN, as he looks straight at the camera.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded)
|
||
|
You still don't get it.
|
||
|
He'll find her. That's
|
||
|
what he does. All he does...
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON VUKOVICH, gesturing to Silberman, who is near the
|
||
|
machine, to kill it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded, con-
|
||
|
tinuing)
|
||
|
You can't stop him. He'll
|
||
|
wade through you...
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN, rising partway out of his chair,
|
||
|
yelling.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(recorded, continuing)
|
||
|
...reach down her throat, and
|
||
|
pull her fucking heart out...
|
||
|
|
||
|
The screen goes black.
|
||
|
Vukovich has cut off the tape.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
(glancing around)
|
||
|
Sorry.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH staring at the empty screen.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(turning)
|
||
|
So Reese is crazy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SILBERMAN
|
||
|
In technical terminology,
|
||
|
he's a loon.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
But...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich hands her something that looks like umpire's
|
||
|
padding.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Sarah, this is body armor.
|
||
|
Out TAC guys wear it. It'll
|
||
|
stop a 12 gauge round. This
|
||
|
other individual must've had
|
||
|
one under his coat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah want to believe him. God help her if he's wrong.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
But what about him punching
|
||
|
through the windshield?
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(shrugs)
|
||
|
Probably on PCP, broke every
|
||
|
bone in his hand and won't feel
|
||
|
it for hours. There was this
|
||
|
guy once that...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich cuts him off with a gesture and sits beside Sarah
|
||
|
on the bench.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Why don't you just stretch out
|
||
|
here and get some sleep. It'll
|
||
|
take your mom a good hour to get
|
||
|
here from Redlands.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I can't sleep.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Go ahead. You're safe. There're
|
||
|
thirty cops in this building.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Okay.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She lays her head on a wadded up blanket as everyone
|
||
|
leaves the office.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
159A INT. CORRIDOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich pauses outside the door, lost in thought. Traxler
|
||
|
studies him for a second.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
What?
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Ed, come on...the guy's a
|
||
|
wacko.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich glances up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(quietly)
|
||
|
He'd better be.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
160 INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT FOYER - NIGHT 160
|
||
|
|
||
|
Silberman can be seen through a glass partition next to
|
||
|
the bullet-proof glass booth enclosing the NIGHT DESK
|
||
|
SERGEANT'S counter. The Sergeant hits a button and there
|
||
|
is a loud BULL-CLACK. The electric bolt on the security
|
||
|
door opens and Silberman steps out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As he exits the station, he passes Terminator just coming in
|
||
|
the front door. He glances at the pale apparition in cap
|
||
|
and dark wrap-arounds, but goes on.
|
||
|
Terminator approaches the Desk Sergeant who barely glances
|
||
|
up when he speaks.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
I'm a friend of Sarah Connor.
|
||
|
I was told she is here. Can
|
||
|
I see her, please?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SERGEANT
|
||
|
You can't see here. She's
|
||
|
making a statement.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
Where is she?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SERGEANT
|
||
|
(laconically)
|
||
|
Look. It's gonna be a while.
|
||
|
You wanna wait. There's a
|
||
|
bench.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator steps back, scanning the booth, the electric
|
||
|
door, the rooms beyond.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
I'll come back.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He turns and walks out through the front doors.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE PAST DESK SERGEANT, F.G. - ON FRONT DOORS, the officer
|
||
|
is absorbed in paperwork, not watching as a pair of lights
|
||
|
get BRIGHTER outside the doors. RAPIDLY. He glances up
|
||
|
at the last second as the glare falls fully on him. CRASH!
|
||
|
Several cops and late night loiterers scatter as a car
|
||
|
smashes into the foyer. It blasts through the sergeant's
|
||
|
booth, crushing him in the wreckage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
161 INT. DIVISION HQ/VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 161
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah, lying on the couch, jerks awake as the crash
|
||
|
REVERBERATES through the building. She sits up, bleary-
|
||
|
eyes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
162 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 162
|
||
|
|
||
|
Through the hole in the splintered wall we see Terminator
|
||
|
leap out of the car.
|
||
|
He vaults the hood and smashes through the debris of the
|
||
|
wall.
|
||
|
Leaps to the corridor floor in a shower of plaster fragments.
|
||
|
He brandishes the AR-180 like a pistol in one hand, the
|
||
|
.38 in the other.
|
||
|
The shotgun dangles at his side on a shoulder sling.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE DOLLY, preceding him as he starts down the
|
||
|
corridor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON LOUNGE DOORWAY as TWO COPS run into the hall,
|
||
|
one carrying a cup of coffee.
|
||
|
Terminator fires a burst from the assault rifle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON COPS - They are flung backward in a spray of
|
||
|
coffee and plaster.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
163 INT. DIVISION HQ/VUKOVICH'S OFFICE
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is alert now with growing alarm. The sound of
|
||
|
GUNFIRE is faint...but unmistakable. Her expression
|
||
|
shows the dawning certainty of what is happening.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
164 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 164
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator steps over the bodies of the two cops without
|
||
|
breaking stride.
|
||
|
|
||
|
OVER HIS SHOULDER, MOVING WITH HIM as he walks down the
|
||
|
hall. Comes to a door. Tries it. Locked.
|
||
|
Kicks it in.
|
||
|
A DESK COP, drawing his gun, sprints for cover.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON TERMINATOR raising the AR-180.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
165/FX INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - TERMINATOR'S POV 165/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
In computer-enhanced vision we see the cop dash around a
|
||
|
corner in SLOW MOTION. As he disappears behind the wall
|
||
|
an ANIMATED OUTLINE OF HIM is still visible...a PROBABILISTIC
|
||
|
EXTRAPOLATION OF HIS MOTION. There is a target cross-
|
||
|
hair following the figure.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
166 INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - BEHIND WALL 166
|
||
|
|
||
|
The wall erupts with a volley of shots beside the running
|
||
|
cop and he is flung OUT OF FRAME.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
167 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 167
|
||
|
|
||
|
Shots are echoing in the hallway as Vukovich whips open
|
||
|
the door, startling the hell out of Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
Stay here.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He turns the locking knob and slams the door.
|
||
|
Leaving her alone.
|
||
|
She flinches as more SHOTS SOUND. CLOSER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
167A INT. CORRIDOR 167A
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator rips the cover off the station's main electrical
|
||
|
panel. He pulls loose the hose-like 440 volt
|
||
|
incoming line and feeds it directly into the lighting
|
||
|
circuit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
All down the corridor the overhead fluorescent units
|
||
|
explode, showering sparks and glass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The building is plunged into darkness.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Arcs SPUTTER and FLARE, lighting the corridors strobo-
|
||
|
scopically.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
167B INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 167B
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah's terror skyrockets when the ceiling lamp explodes
|
||
|
and the office goes black.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
168 INT. CORRIDOR 168
|
||
|
|
||
|
Through the smoke and emergency spotlights Terminator moves
|
||
|
forward, inexorably.
|
||
|
A door behind him opens. A COP fires, hitting him in
|
||
|
the shoulder. Terminator fires straight-arm with the .38
|
||
|
without slowing, killing the cop, then fires down the
|
||
|
corridor with the assault rifle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
169 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM 169
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler leaves the other detective to guard Reese, who is
|
||
|
still handcuffed to the chair.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
(exciting)
|
||
|
Watch him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The door closes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
An instant later a chair smashes over the detective's
|
||
|
back, just as he is turning toward his prisoner.
|
||
|
Reese is on him, scrabbling for the keys.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
170 INT. CROSS CORRIDOR 170
|
||
|
|
||
|
Traxler is running down the hall through smoke and the
|
||
|
wild strobing of electrical fires as Vukovich steps
|
||
|
out of an armory room. He tosses Traxler an M-16 and
|
||
|
they run on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
171 INT. MAIN CORRIDOR 171
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator stops before another door. He BLASTS the lock
|
||
|
with the riot-gun. Flings open the door, scanning.
|
||
|
Moves on.
|
||
|
He is hit twice, chest and leg.
|
||
|
Firelight flickers from an office doorway as he passes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
172 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 172
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah scrabbles for a place to hide in the darkened room
|
||
|
but it's so tiny. Behind the desk. She crouches unable to
|
||
|
believe she has awakened into the same nightmare.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
173 INT. OFFICE NEARBY 173
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON DOOR as it splinters open and Terminator stands,
|
||
|
guns raised. A COP fires from behind a desk.
|
||
|
Terminator sprays the room.
|
||
|
Starts to reload.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
174 INT. CORRIDOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
Vukovich edges open a door and fires half a clip into
|
||
|
Terminator's back. His eyes bulge as the intruder turns,
|
||
|
slamming a clip into his rifle and calmly fires two rounds.
|
||
|
Traxler drags Vukovich's body back inside the room.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TRAXLER
|
||
|
Ed! Ed...?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
175 INT. CORRIDOR 175
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, moving forward, intent
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
176 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 176
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON SARAH, her teeth are chattering with fear as
|
||
|
SHOTS echo nearby. There is the RHYTHMIC THUNDER of the
|
||
|
shotgun, rattling AUTOMATIC FIRE, SCREAMING, and the sound
|
||
|
of RUNNING FEET. Getting closer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SLOW DOLLY IN ON SARAH begins, ending in TIGHT C.U. as the
|
||
|
sounds get louder. More SHOTS.
|
||
|
Smoke begins to seep under the door.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - DOORKNOB rattling as it is tried from outside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - SARAH stifling a cry. She flinches as if slapped
|
||
|
as SHOTS sound.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - DOOR KNOB, a series of SHOTS shatter the lock.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL ON DOORWAY - The door bangs open and a figure stands
|
||
|
silhouetted in the smoky hallway, holding a pistol.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - SARAH, as she closes her eyes. Holds her breath.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE (V.O.)
|
||
|
Sarah?
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT - She scrambles out from beneath the desk and runs
|
||
|
to him in the thickening smoke.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
177 CONNECTING OFFICES 177
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH as they cross the
|
||
|
corridor and move through a series of offices, doubling back
|
||
|
toward the main entrance.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
178 INT. OFFICE 178
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Reese move rapidly through the smoke.
|
||
|
Gunfire sounds nearby. They pass bodies.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH (V.O.)
|
||
|
(weakly)
|
||
|
Reese!
|
||
|
|
||
|
They find the Lieutenant propped in a corner, dying.
|
||
|
Reese bends toward him.
|
||
|
Vukovich holds out his custom Colt Python .357.
|
||
|
|
||
|
VUKOVICH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
You just keep her alive. Do
|
||
|
what you have to.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese snatches the gun and the keys and runs on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - VUKOVICH watching them go.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
179 INT./EXT. OFFICES/SIDE ENTRANCE - NIGHT 179
|
||
|
|
||
|
FAST PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he runs through
|
||
|
the smoky rooms. A fire is burning, lighting everything
|
||
|
a flickering orange.
|
||
|
He emerges onto a landing through a side entrance. PAN
|
||
|
to follow his line of sight as he snaps the AR-180 to
|
||
|
his shoulder. B.G. a BLUE VOLKSWAGEN RABBIT is roaring
|
||
|
away across the parking lot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR aiming carefully. He pulls the trigger.
|
||
|
It clicks...empty. Slowly he lowers the scope-sight from
|
||
|
his eye and watches them go.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator limps down the steps from the landing and walks
|
||
|
away as the fire spreads behind the windows of Division
|
||
|
Headquarters.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
180 INT. RABBIT - NIGHT 180
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - GAS GAUGE, it reads EMPTY.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
181 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 181
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Rabbit is stopped on the shoulder of a two lane
|
||
|
secondary road winding through the hills north of L.A.
|
||
|
Reese is fishing objects out of the car's trunk and
|
||
|
handing them to Sarah, who holds a flashlight.
|
||
|
He hands her a blanket, some road flares, and a first
|
||
|
aid kit. Then he slams the trunk. Reaching through the
|
||
|
side window, he turns the wheel and pushes the car off
|
||
|
the shoulder, over the embankment.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOWN ANGLE INTO RAVINE, past Sarah and Reese, as the car
|
||
|
trundles down crashing through the underbrush to dis-
|
||
|
appear among the trees.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese looks out across the valley and the lights of L.A.
|
||
|
A helicopter circles in the distance, searchlight on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Let's get off the road.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
182 INT./EXT. DRAINAGE CULVERT - NIGHT 182
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE LOOKING OUT from the mouth of an enclosed concrete
|
||
|
storm drain that passes under the road. Reese, followed
|
||
|
by Sarah, trudges down the slope and ducks inside.
|
||
|
The floor is wet but he doesn't seem to mind.
|
||
|
They both hunker down with their backs to the concrete,
|
||
|
facing each other.
|
||
|
They look beaten, grimy, exhausted.
|
||
|
She huddles under the blanket, waif-like.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
You cold?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Freezing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Come here.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She sits beside him and they wrap their arms around each
|
||
|
other with the blanket covering both of them.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Reese...you got a first name?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Kyle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Kyle, what's it like when you
|
||
|
go through time?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
White light. Pain. Like
|
||
|
being ripped inside out...
|
||
|
slowly. Like being born,
|
||
|
maybe.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah scowls and draws her hand out from under his jacket.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You're wet. Oh my god.
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the beam of the flashlight her hand is glistening
|
||
|
with blood.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
I caught one, back there.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(incredulous)
|
||
|
Caught one? You mean you
|
||
|
got shot?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese shrugs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
It's not bad.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah sits up and turns toward him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
We gotta get you to a doctor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
It's okay. Forget it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Forget it? Are you crazy?
|
||
|
Let me see it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah opens his jacket and the flashlight beam shows his
|
||
|
shirt bloodsoaked at the shoulder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Jeez. You idiot. Take
|
||
|
this off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She cradles the flashlight between her knees and opens
|
||
|
the first aid kit as he removes his jacket.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(looking at the
|
||
|
wound)
|
||
|
See. Missed everything.
|
||
|
Passed through the meat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah starts swabbing the flesh wound.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
This is gonna make me puke.
|
||
|
Talk about something.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
What?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Just talk. Tell me about
|
||
|
my son. Is he tall?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She places a gauze pad in place and starts to wrap it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
About my height. He
|
||
|
has your--
|
||
|
(winces)
|
||
|
...damn...he has your
|
||
|
eyes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah glances at his face for a second and then goes back
|
||
|
to work.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
What's he like?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(thoughtful)
|
||
|
You trust him. He's got that
|
||
|
strength. You'd die in a
|
||
|
second for John.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Well, at least I know what
|
||
|
to name him. I don't suppose
|
||
|
you'd know who the father is?
|
||
|
So I don't tell him to get
|
||
|
lost when I meet him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
John never said much about
|
||
|
him. He dies. Even before
|
||
|
the war...
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(interrupting)
|
||
|
Stop! I don't want to know.
|
||
|
Hold still. So...it was John
|
||
|
that ordered you here?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
I volunteered.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You volunteered?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
It was an honor. A chance
|
||
|
to meet the legend. Sarah
|
||
|
Connor. Who taught her son
|
||
|
to fight...organize, prepare.
|
||
|
From when he was a kid. When
|
||
|
you were in hiding, before
|
||
|
the war.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She stops taping. She seems lost, her bravado dissipated.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You talk about things I haven't
|
||
|
done yet in the past tense. It's
|
||
|
making me crazy. I can't think.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Are you sure you've got the
|
||
|
right person?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese appraises her coldly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
I'm sure.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Come on, me? The mother
|
||
|
of the future? Am I tough?
|
||
|
Organized? I can't even balance
|
||
|
my checkbook. I cry when I see
|
||
|
a cat that's been run over...
|
||
|
and I don't even like cats.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She pulls the bandage tight with a knot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Ow! No, it's okay. It's
|
||
|
better tight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
And anyway, what do I know
|
||
|
about guerrilla warfare?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
You'll learn.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(angry)
|
||
|
Look, Reese, I didn't ask for
|
||
|
this honor and I don't want it.
|
||
|
Any of it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
John gave me a message for
|
||
|
you. Made me memorize it.
|
||
|
'Sarah"...this is the message...
|
||
|
'Sarah, thank you. For your
|
||
|
courage through the dark years.
|
||
|
I can't help you with what you
|
||
|
must soon face, except to tell
|
||
|
you that the future is not set...
|
||
|
there is no such thing as Fate,
|
||
|
but what we make for ourselves
|
||
|
by our own will. You must be
|
||
|
stronger than you imagine you
|
||
|
can be. You must survive, or I
|
||
|
will never exist.' That's all.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah stares at him as the enormity of it all becomes real
|
||
|
to her. Reese moves his arm, testing the bandage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Good field-dressing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(brightening)
|
||
|
You like it? It's my first.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He rebuttons his shirt and they return to the warmth-
|
||
|
conserving embrace. Sarah gazes out the entrance, into
|
||
|
the night.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Sleep. It'll be light soon.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(closing her
|
||
|
eyes)
|
||
|
Okay. Talk some more.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
About what?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(murmuring)
|
||
|
About where you're from.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle watches the helicopter circling far in the distance.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Alright.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
You stay down by day, but at
|
||
|
night you can move around.
|
||
|
The H-K's use infra-red so you
|
||
|
still have to watch out.
|
||
|
But they're not too bright.
|
||
|
John taught us ways to dust them
|
||
|
them. That's when the infiltra-
|
||
|
tors started to appear. The
|
||
|
Terminators were the newest,
|
||
|
the worst...
|
||
|
|
||
|
During his monologue we have PANNED into the darkness outside
|
||
|
and to the helicopter, which flies OUT OF FRAME, leaving
|
||
|
black. A ROTOR ROAR fades up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT IN BLACK TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
183/FX EXT. CITY RUINS, 2029 - NIGHT 183/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
Black sky. Stars.
|
||
|
With a roar an AERIAL PATROL CRAFT enters close overhead.
|
||
|
It has flashing red and blue lights and powerful search-
|
||
|
lights which stab down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TILT DOWN
|
||
|
|
||
|
to a vista of moonlit devastation.
|
||
|
White ash blows in drifts among fire-gutted ruins.
|
||
|
Blackened bones lie everywhere in heaps.
|
||
|
Searchlights sweep the night.
|
||
|
Another aerial unit hovers several blocks away, firing
|
||
|
tracers into the ruins.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
184/FX EXT. RUINS/STREET - NIGHT 184/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
as a gleaming chrome H-K grinds through the debris of the
|
||
|
shattered street on its tank-like tracks, crushing burnt
|
||
|
skulls.
|
||
|
Its head turns slowly, playing high-intensity lights over the
|
||
|
buildings.
|
||
|
Its hydraulic arms are folded, mantis-like, against its
|
||
|
'torso'. After it passes a number of human figures dart
|
||
|
from shadow to shadow, B.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
185 INT. TUNNELS - NIGHT 185
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is among a SQUAD OF MEN in black fatigues, carrying
|
||
|
equipment and energy rifles, who enter a debris-littered
|
||
|
tunnel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE WITH THEM as they trot through a labyrinth of
|
||
|
tunnels, pass several guard-posts. Reese has a GERMAN
|
||
|
SHEPHERD on a short leash.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
186 INT. PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT 186
|
||
|
|
||
|
The platoon enters a cavernous chamber, an old parking
|
||
|
structure, in which a large group is gathering.
|
||
|
As the entrance, ARMED SENTRIES with dogs are passing in
|
||
|
new arrivals: men wearing mismatched uniforms or rags and
|
||
|
carrying all types of weapons from lasers to shotguns.
|
||
|
Weapons are left at the sentry post.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FOLLOWING REESE as he patrols the perimeter.
|
||
|
He walks along a row of CARS, models from the eighties and
|
||
|
nineties, now stripped, rusty and modified to carry weapons.
|
||
|
There are conventional military vehicles as well.
|
||
|
He passes several family groups.
|
||
|
Gaunt kids are huddles around an old TV SET.
|
||
|
Its glow bathes them.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REVERSE ANGLE reveals that the set has been gutted and a
|
||
|
small cookfire crackles inside the shell.
|
||
|
Nearby a kid has a LARGE RAT cornered and is whacking it
|
||
|
with a stick.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese pauses at the end of the row of vehicles and unsnaps
|
||
|
a pocket in his tunic, removing a small paper rectangle,
|
||
|
a worn photograph.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, gazing down. His head snaps around at the
|
||
|
sudden sound of BARKING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON SENTRY POST as the dogs go crazy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SENTRY
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Terminator!
|
||
|
|
||
|
An innocuous, RAG-DRESSED MAN flips back his poncho to
|
||
|
reveal a powerful PLASMA-RIFLE. He opens FIRE, running
|
||
|
forward. ENERGY BOLTS rip into the crowd.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH REESE, running toward the Terminator.
|
||
|
|
||
|
RAPID CUTS:
|
||
|
|
||
|
POWERBOLTS EXPLODE among the fleeing people.
|
||
|
Beams sear the darkness.
|
||
|
A running CHILD is BURST by a plasma hit.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON REESE running. He levels his energy-rifle and
|
||
|
starts firing. A powerbolt grazes his cheek, EXPLODING
|
||
|
a support column behind him. Part of the ROOF COLLAPSES
|
||
|
as Reese tumbles.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Everything is lit as if by lightning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, semi-conscious. Burned. Bleeding.
|
||
|
Impressions implode on him: running feet, flashes, energy
|
||
|
beams raking the ground leaving molten worm-tracks, scream-
|
||
|
ing, a burning dog howling.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - The picture Reese has been looking at has fallen,
|
||
|
forgotten. It catches fire and starts to curl. Before
|
||
|
the image vanishes we see that it is a picture of Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese looks up.
|
||
|
A figure looms above, a silhouette in the smoky, hellish
|
||
|
glare. THE TERMINATOR. Its eyes glow red.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A brilliant EXPLOSION WHITES OUT THE SCREEN.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
187 INT. CULVERT - DAWN 187
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH, brightly lit by daylight. Asleep. She grimaces
|
||
|
and groans.
|
||
|
In the distance a dog is barking.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese, still holding her, lightly lifts her hair from her
|
||
|
face. An uncharacteristically tender gesture. He gently
|
||
|
caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers. When
|
||
|
she awakens suddenly he snaps his hand away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks around, momentarily disoriented. Looks up at
|
||
|
Reese.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I was dreaming about dogs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese extricates himself from her and steps out of the
|
||
|
culvert.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
We used them to spot Terminators.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah groans as she straightens her legs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Your world...it's pretty
|
||
|
terrifying.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
189 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAWN 189
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah catches up to him just as he is about to try and
|
||
|
stop an approaching car. She pulls his gun hand down with
|
||
|
both of hers.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Put that away. I'll get one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She hold out her thumb to passing traffic.
|
||
|
Reese watches this incomprehensible ceremony skeptically.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
This works...really.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
189A EXT. HIGHWAY/PICKUP - DAY 189A
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese and Sarah are crammed into the cab of a beat-to-hell
|
||
|
PICKUP TRUCK with the DRIVER, obviously a surfer. Laid-
|
||
|
back, long-haired and well-tanned.
|
||
|
Reese glowers and watches the scenery through slitted eyes.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DRIVER
|
||
|
...and when it breaks right
|
||
|
off the point they get some
|
||
|
pretty rad tubes up there.
|
||
|
Not awesome, but I mean, worth
|
||
|
the drive, if you're hardcore
|
||
|
like me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(to Sarah)
|
||
|
Rad tubes?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(to Reese)
|
||
|
He's a surfer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DRIVER
|
||
|
You from back East of
|
||
|
something?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
No, he's from the future.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DRIVER
|
||
|
Whoah. I hear that.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Listen, I had a rough
|
||
|
night. I gotta stop and
|
||
|
bag some Z's.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They pull off the highway toward a gas station/rest area.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
190 EXT. SERVICE STATION - DAY 190
|
||
|
|
||
|
The gas station is like an oasis of clutter in a rolling
|
||
|
stretch of meadows and woods. It consists of a bunker-
|
||
|
like building with restrooms and a flanking PICNIC AREA,
|
||
|
beyond which are WOODS.
|
||
|
People sit under the trees, enjoying the beautiful day
|
||
|
while children tear around after the forced inactivity of
|
||
|
a long trip.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The three of them get out on unsteady legs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DRIVER
|
||
|
You can still ride if
|
||
|
you wanna hang out for a
|
||
|
couple hours.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Thanks.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Bag some Z's?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Let's get cleaned up, Kyle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She heads for the WOMEN'S RESTROOM and Kyle follows her
|
||
|
inside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(pushing him out)
|
||
|
Yours is over there.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Instead of following her directions to the Men's Room,
|
||
|
Kyle wanders toward the drinking fountain. A bunch of
|
||
|
kids are running around and throwing water at each other
|
||
|
with paper cups.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese shambles through them like a zombie.
|
||
|
He stands among the children, an alien in this land without
|
||
|
fear. He watches people at picnic tables laughing and
|
||
|
listening to portable music. Kids squeal. Dogs bark.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LITTLE GIRL (V.O.)
|
||
|
Can you get my balloon?
|
||
|
|
||
|
DOWN ANGLE on an achingly beautiful LITTLE GIRL of about
|
||
|
four. She points above his head.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese looks up to see a helium-filled mylar balloon stuck in
|
||
|
the foliage of a tree just above him. He pulls it down by
|
||
|
the string and holds it, turning it over dully.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He crouches down to her eye-level. She smiles.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Aren't you afraid to be out in
|
||
|
the open like this?
|
||
|
|
||
|
LITTLE GIRL
|
||
|
Huh?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese whirls reflexively at a SCREAM behind him. The
|
||
|
mylar balloon bursts in his tense hands. A teenage girl
|
||
|
is being doused with water by the boys with plastic jugs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The little girl looks at the broken balloon, then glares
|
||
|
at Reese. She punches him soundly on the shoulder and
|
||
|
storms off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
At this moment she is bowled over by an IRISH SETTER that
|
||
|
licks her face while she shrieks with laughter.
|
||
|
Reese seems about to smile but doesn't quite know how to
|
||
|
go about it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
191 EXT. SERVICE STATION/PAY PHONE - DAY 191
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is talking on an open pay phone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
...I know, Mom. This is the
|
||
|
soonest I could...I know.
|
||
|
Mom...Mom, I can't talk long.
|
||
|
No, I'm okay.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
I was on TV? Really?
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Oh no, I hate that picture...
|
||
|
why didn't you give them my
|
||
|
graduation picture?
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
I'm okay, really. Listen, I
|
||
|
want you to pack some stuff
|
||
|
and go up to the cabin for a
|
||
|
few days. Just don't...no,
|
||
|
don't ask any questions.
|
||
|
Just do it. I gotta get
|
||
|
going...gotta go. Bye, bye.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah has been idly leafing through the DIRECTORY. On
|
||
|
a whim she looks up something.
|
||
|
She freezes for a moment when she finds the listing.
|
||
|
Then with a triumphant expression she rips the page out
|
||
|
of the book.
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
192 EXT. SERVICE STATION/PICNIC TABLE - DAY 192
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is sitting at a table under a tree, lettering
|
||
|
something with a lipstick on a cardboard box-flap.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - SIGN, as the last letters are finished.
|
||
|
It reads:
|
||
|
SILICON VALLEY
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL ON SARAH as she retracts the lipstick and leans
|
||
|
across to hand it to a girl at the next table.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Thanks a lot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE (V.O.)
|
||
|
What's that?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks up, startled to see him standing beside her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
That's where we're going.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Why?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah point to the directory page lying on the table.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MACRO - PAGE
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah's finger points to a listing which reads:
|
||
|
|
||
|
CYBER DYNAMICS CORPORATION
|
||
|
18144 El Camino Real, S'Vale
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON SARAH AND REESE
|
||
|
|
||
|
She looks smug.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Look. I found it. Isn't
|
||
|
that it? Cyber Dynamics
|
||
|
Corporation?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
What about it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Didn't you say that they're
|
||
|
going to develop this
|
||
|
revolutionary new thing...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Molecular-memory.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Whatever...they become the
|
||
|
hotshot computer guys so they
|
||
|
get the job to build El Computer
|
||
|
Grande...Skynet...for the
|
||
|
government. Right?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(uneasy)
|
||
|
That's the way it was told
|
||
|
to me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah's fear has been replaced by excitement.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Well, we're gonna uninvent the
|
||
|
bastard. Eighty-six it. We'll
|
||
|
blow up the place...burn it
|
||
|
down. Something.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(very cold)
|
||
|
Tactically dangerous. We
|
||
|
lay low.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Reese. Think it through.
|
||
|
We can prevent the war.
|
||
|
Nobody else is gonna do it.
|
||
|
If we go to anybody official
|
||
|
we wind up back in jail and
|
||
|
then that walking cuisinart
|
||
|
has got us again. We have to
|
||
|
so it ourselves.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
That's not my mission.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(upset, mocking
|
||
|
his manner)
|
||
|
Listen. Understand. I'm
|
||
|
not a military objective,
|
||
|
Reese. I'm a person...
|
||
|
You don't own me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese takes her arm and pulls her to her feet.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Let's go. Time to move out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Fuck you! Let go of me!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She jerks her arm free. He reaches for her again but
|
||
|
she outdistances him, running.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(warning tone)
|
||
|
Sarah!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She dashes down a footpath among the trees, clutching her
|
||
|
sign. Reese follows her into the woods.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
193 EXT. WOODS/CLEARING - DAY 193
|
||
|
|
||
|
Only a few yards from the picnic area, the woods take over
|
||
|
completely.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANNING WITH SARAH
|
||
|
|
||
|
as she runs down the path.
|
||
|
Reese tackles her from behind and they fall together in
|
||
|
the long spring grass.
|
||
|
She struggles violently to get away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Let...go...bastard...
|
||
|
|
||
|
She gets one arm free and whacks him hard in the face.
|
||
|
Reese reacts instinctively, leaping back in a defensive
|
||
|
crouch. Sarah freezes when she sees the .357 in his
|
||
|
hand.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing,
|
||
|
scared, but
|
||
|
angry)
|
||
|
Oh, that's real smart.
|
||
|
Go on, shoot me. That's
|
||
|
brilliant.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is trembling as he lowers the gun.
|
||
|
Sarah too is shaking with emotion. Tears roll down her
|
||
|
cheeks and her voice cracks.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Jesus Christ, Reese. Can't
|
||
|
you see I'm scared?
|
||
|
|
||
|
He straightens up and his arms go limp at his sides.
|
||
|
He turns away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
I can't spend my life waiting
|
||
|
for that thing to catch up
|
||
|
with me...always looking over
|
||
|
my shoulder, wondering if I
|
||
|
left some tiny clue behind...
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese doesn't respond.
|
||
|
The gun slips from his fingers.
|
||
|
His will seems to drain from him and he sags to his knees.
|
||
|
The moment stretches.
|
||
|
There is only the sunlight moving in shafts through the
|
||
|
leaves, the sound of a small stream nearby, birds chirping.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Reese?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She crawls over to him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE
|
||
|
|
||
|
in profile, with Sarah in B.G.
|
||
|
His eyes are closed.
|
||
|
A tear meanders down his cheek.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing,
|
||
|
quietly)
|
||
|
Kyle?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(a whisper)
|
||
|
I'm wrong here. I wasn't
|
||
|
meant to see this...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He gestures at their surroundings.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
It's...like some dream.
|
||
|
This...this...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He touches the grass, the trunk of a tree.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
...and you...all so...beauti-
|
||
|
ful. It hurts, Sarah. More
|
||
|
than death.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He looks are her beseechingly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Don't you understand...it's
|
||
|
all gone!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah puts her arm around him.
|
||
|
She sniffs and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
We can change it, Kyle. We
|
||
|
have to try.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She takes his shoulder in her hands.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
There's no fate but what we
|
||
|
make for ourselves. Right?
|
||
|
Come on. Let's go, kiddo.
|
||
|
Whaddya say?
|
||
|
|
||
|
He picks up her sign and they look at each other for a
|
||
|
second, then get up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
194 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 194
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator sits in his room with the blinds drawn tight.
|
||
|
Murky. Claustrophobic. With knife-slits of hot sunlight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
sitting on the edge of the bed.
|
||
|
His appearance isn't improving.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A patch of SCALP is blown away, revealing CHROME underneath.
|
||
|
A flap of skin dangles from his cheek, which exposes some
|
||
|
of the DRIVE CABLES which move the lips.
|
||
|
He is scanning Sarah's address book, turning a page every
|
||
|
two seconds.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
his eyes tracking rapidly. His skin is waxy, WHITE, BRUISED,
|
||
|
GANGRENOUS in places. He ignores the FEW FLIES crawling
|
||
|
on his face.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
194A/FX POV - TERMINATOR 194A/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
Showing Sarah's book.
|
||
|
In microseconds the handwritten entries are translated
|
||
|
into CRT-type characters and displayed to one side of the
|
||
|
screen. This updates instantly as the page is turned.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
195 INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY 195
|
||
|
|
||
|
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN with a torn T-shirt covering his paunch
|
||
|
knocks on the door. He is wheeling a trash cart.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MAN
|
||
|
Hey, buddy, you got a
|
||
|
dead cat in there of what?
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
196 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 196
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR
|
||
|
|
||
|
as he looks up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
197/FX POV - TERMINATOR 197/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
The digitized image PANS to the door and a LOGIC-FLOW
|
||
|
DIAGRAM appears overlaid in color-coded words. It con-
|
||
|
cluded with a list of potential appropriate responses:
|
||
|
|
||
|
YES/NO
|
||
|
OR WHAT
|
||
|
GO AWAY
|
||
|
PLEASE COME BACK LATER
|
||
|
FUCK YOU
|
||
|
FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
The last begins to FLASH, and enlarges to fill the screen.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
198 RESUME ANGLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR
|
||
|
Fuck you, asshole.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He returns to his scan.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
199 INT. CORRIDOR - DAY 199
|
||
|
|
||
|
The man shrugs and walks down the hall.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
200 EXT. MOTEL - DAY
|
||
|
|
||
|
The two fugitives walk toward an economy motel of the
|
||
|
two-story park-by-the-door variety.
|
||
|
Sarah turns to wave as a TRACTOR-TRAILER pulls away noisily,
|
||
|
heading back to the Interstate. The driver answers her wave
|
||
|
out the side window. Reese stops for a moment outside the
|
||
|
motel office to pet a GERMAN SHEPHERD sitting on the porch.
|
||
|
The dog wags its tail and licks his hand.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese opens the door and they go in.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
201 INT. MOTEL OFFICE - DAY 201
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese pulls a crumpled wad of bills from his jeans and shows
|
||
|
it to Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Is this enough?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Yes. And I don't want to
|
||
|
know where you got it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She turns to the desk clerk, a female version of the pawn-
|
||
|
shop lizard.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(to clerk)
|
||
|
We need a room...with a
|
||
|
kitchen.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
202 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DUSK
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle and Sarah enter the spartan room.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I'm dying for a shower. You
|
||
|
could use one too. And we'd
|
||
|
better check that bandage.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Later. I'm going out for
|
||
|
materiel. Keep this.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He hands her the .38 he took off the detective.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She takes it without thinking as he leaves then realizes
|
||
|
that she has A LOADED GUN IN HER HAND, without the slightest
|
||
|
idea of how to use it. She lays it gently on the dresser.
|
||
|
As an afterthought, she turns it with one finger so that it
|
||
|
is pointing the other way.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah moves the curtain slightly and looks outside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
203 EXT. MOTEL - DUSK 203
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese walks away toward a commercial area visible down the
|
||
|
road.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
204 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 204
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is on the phone, her hair still wet from a shower.
|
||
|
She sits on the bed with a towel wrapped around her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
...No, Mom, I can't tell you
|
||
|
where I am. I was told not
|
||
|
to say.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
But honey, I need to know where
|
||
|
I can reach you or I'll be
|
||
|
worried sick. It turns out I
|
||
|
can't stay up here...the
|
||
|
electricity's off...and I don't
|
||
|
know just where I'll be.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah hesitates, then:
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Okay, here's the number. Are
|
||
|
you ready?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
Go ahead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
205 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 205
|
||
|
|
||
|
SLOW PAN around the room as the conversation between Sarah
|
||
|
and her Mom continues, completely VOICE OVER.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
It's 408-972-1439. Room 14.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
I got it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The PAN continues, revealing an overturned chair.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH (V.O.)
|
||
|
(filtered)
|
||
|
Okay, I've gotta go. I'm
|
||
|
sorry I can't tell you very
|
||
|
much now, Mom. I love you.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The PAN comes to a table. Smashed plates. Spilled coffee.
|
||
|
A spatter of blood. A phone. It follows the phone cord
|
||
|
onto Terminator in CLOSE-UP as he continues in a perfect
|
||
|
simulation of her mother's voice...
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR (MOTHER'S VOICE)
|
||
|
I love you too, sweetheart.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
206 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 206
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah hangs up the phone, vaguely disturbed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
207 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 207
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator rapidly dials the number Sarah gave.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TERMINATOR (HIS VOICE)
|
||
|
Hello.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Tell me your address there.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
208 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 208
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SEVERAL GROCERY BAGS
|
||
|
|
||
|
covering the counter beside the hot-plate in the tiny
|
||
|
apartment.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's hands split one open and its contents spill out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks through Reese's haul.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Let's see. Corn syrup.
|
||
|
Ammonia. Moth balls...
|
||
|
Mmm. What's for dinner?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(preoccupied)
|
||
|
Plastique.
|
||
|
|
||
|
There are also boxes of shotgun shells, road flares, tape,
|
||
|
scissors, pans, a strainer and many other odd utensils,
|
||
|
substances, chemicals.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
What's that?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Nitroglycerin, basically.
|
||
|
Bit more stable. I learned
|
||
|
howto make it when I was a
|
||
|
kid.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks a bit stricken as she contemplates the evening
|
||
|
ahead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
209 EXT. HIGHWAY/CHEVY CAMARO - NIGHT 209
|
||
|
|
||
|
The dashlight illuminated Terminator from beneath as he drives
|
||
|
through the night. He looks like Death. His left eye
|
||
|
glows a faint red in the darkness.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
210 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 210
|
||
|
|
||
|
A heartwarming domestic scene.
|
||
|
Sarah and Kyle have pulled the dresser out to use as a
|
||
|
worktable. Pans, packages and bottles clutter the kitchen,
|
||
|
B.G. On the table between them are eight ten-inch lengths
|
||
|
of PLUMBER'S PIPE, threaded each end. Kyle is showing
|
||
|
Sarah how to tamp the HIGH-EXPLOSIVE PUTTY into the pipe
|
||
|
bombs and seal them shut.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Make sure there's none on the
|
||
|
threads, like this. Now screw
|
||
|
the end-cap on...very gently.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You must have had a fun child-
|
||
|
hood.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
That's good. Now, seven more
|
||
|
like that while I make fuses.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I was thinking, there's so
|
||
|
much I've got to show you
|
||
|
when we get through this.
|
||
|
It's mind boggling, the pos-
|
||
|
sibilities...Disneyland, the
|
||
|
beach, movies...matinees with
|
||
|
popcorn and foot-long hot dogs...
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Hot dogs?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I want to buy you a hot dog so
|
||
|
bad,Kyle...all the things you've
|
||
|
never seen and done. You're here,
|
||
|
but wherever you go, and whatever
|
||
|
you touch, you bring the war with
|
||
|
you.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
My whole life has been combat.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I want it to be over for you.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Not possible.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I want it to be over for me too.
|
||
|
I feel like I slipped over some
|
||
|
invisible line, that I'm in your
|
||
|
world now. Everything's the same,
|
||
|
but I see it differently.
|
||
|
It's like, there's you and me,
|
||
|
and him...but nobody else can
|
||
|
understand or help or even touch
|
||
|
us.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese looks up and finally catches her gaze. He reaches
|
||
|
out for her hand and it seems he may be taking it to
|
||
|
comfort her.
|
||
|
But he turns her wrist to read her watch.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
We'll head out at 0200.
|
||
|
That gives you four hours
|
||
|
to sleep if you want. I'll
|
||
|
finish.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
211 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 211
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON TABLE - The bombs are neatly ranked, finished.
|
||
|
A nylon satchel lies nearby. The mess is cleaned up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE SHOT reveals Reese sitting in silent vigil at the
|
||
|
window. The room is dark, lit only by a streetlight
|
||
|
outside.
|
||
|
Sarah is asleep on the bed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese sits cross-legged, shirtless, his body held rigid.
|
||
|
The image of discipline. The .357 is held loosely in one
|
||
|
hand on his lap. There is a fresh bandage on his shoulder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah wakes up and goes to him in the darkness. He looks
|
||
|
at her for a moment as she sits beside him, then back outside.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
He'll find us, won't he?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Probably. Sarah, if I get
|
||
|
zeroed...
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Don't say that.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
If I do, you have to get away,
|
||
|
disappear without a trace.
|
||
|
Different country, different
|
||
|
name, everything. In case they
|
||
|
send another one.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
It'll never be over, will it?
|
||
|
Look at me, I'm shaking.
|
||
|
Some legend, huh? You must
|
||
|
be pretty disappointed.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
No. I'm not.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Several beats before Sarah speaks again. Her eyes seem
|
||
|
luminous in the dark.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(softly)
|
||
|
Kyle, the women in your
|
||
|
time...what were they like?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Good fighters.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
That's not what I meant.
|
||
|
Was there someone special?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Someone?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
A girl. You know.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(mechanically)
|
||
|
No.
|
||
|
(pause)
|
||
|
Never.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He looks away, outside the window
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(softly)
|
||
|
I'm sorry.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah studies him for a moment.
|
||
|
She's sitting slightly behind him and she puts her hands
|
||
|
on his shoulders and back, tracing the lines of his scars
|
||
|
with her fingertips.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
So much pain.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Pain can be controlled.
|
||
|
You disconnect it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
And so you feel nothing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
It's better that way.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(with great
|
||
|
sympathy)
|
||
|
Oh, Kyle.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese takes a long, slow breath before he answers, and when
|
||
|
he does his voice has a new quality, an unfamiliar tenderness.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
John Connor gave me a picture
|
||
|
of you once. I never knew
|
||
|
why. It was very old. Torn.
|
||
|
Faded. You were young, like
|
||
|
you are now. You weren't
|
||
|
smiling...just a little sad...
|
||
|
I always wondered what you
|
||
|
were thinking at that second.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He closes his eyes, reaches toward her. His fingertips
|
||
|
trace the contour of her nose, chin, cheeks.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
I memorized every line, every
|
||
|
curve...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He opens his eyes, looking right at hers.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Sarah, I came across time
|
||
|
for you. I love you.
|
||
|
I always have.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is quietly overwhelmed.
|
||
|
Reese looks away.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
I'm sorry. I shouldn't
|
||
|
have said...
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Kyle...
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
She leans forward and kisses him.
|
||
|
His face is frozen. A mask.
|
||
|
She continues, tenderly.
|
||
|
He begins to respond.
|
||
|
The dam breaks and he holds her in a tight, trembling
|
||
|
embrace, clinging to her like life itself.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle picks her up and carries her to the bed.
|
||
|
She kisses his neck and chest, tracing his scars with
|
||
|
her lips.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He unbuttons her blouse very slowly.
|
||
|
Sarah guides his powerful hands over her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A SEQUENCE OF CUTS. DETAILS. IMPRESSIONS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah, a very close angle, as she grimaces in divine agony.
|
||
|
Reese, his face rapt.
|
||
|
His hand, clutching the pillow as if to kill it.
|
||
|
It is explosive, torrential. A confluence of fate and will.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
212 INT. MOTEL ROOM/LATER - NIGHT 212
|
||
|
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SARAH AND REESE in each other's arms. Lying
|
||
|
across his chest, she surveys his face as his eyes close
|
||
|
drowsily.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I bet you're ticklish.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(uncompre-
|
||
|
hending)
|
||
|
Ticklish?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah's hand moves OUT OF FRAME. After a moment Reese
|
||
|
looks down, puzzled.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
What are you doing?
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing
|
||
|
doggedly)
|
||
|
You'll beg for mercy in
|
||
|
a second.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese seems unperturbed. Finally he begins to squirm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
I don't think I like this.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
You're not supposed to.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Now Reese is becoming desperate. A grimace spreads across
|
||
|
his face. It becomes a grin. Then he's laughing, trying
|
||
|
to escape but she won't let him, and they collapse, laughing
|
||
|
together.
|
||
|
Sarah gazes at his grin, a glimpse of the Reese that might
|
||
|
have been, in another life.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A moment later the grin vanishes at the sound of dogs barking
|
||
|
outside.
|
||
|
Reese is off the bed in an instant, crouched tense, eyes
|
||
|
alert. Feral as ever.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(whispering)
|
||
|
Listen to the dogs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
213 EXT. MOTEL OFFICE - NIGHT 213
|
||
|
|
||
|
The German Shepherd, barking furiously, LUNGES TOWARD
|
||
|
CAMERA repeatedly, at the end of a chain.
|
||
|
|
||
|
A dark figure moves by in the F.G., out of the dog's reach.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
214/FX INT./EXT. MOTEL/TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 214/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
The digitized view is image-intensified, bright and stark
|
||
|
as a lunar landscape. PAN OFF the lunging dog to the row
|
||
|
of rooms facing the parking lot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HANDHELD as we approach the doors.
|
||
|
It is WIDE ANGLE and the barrel of the AR-180 is visible at
|
||
|
the bottom of FRAME.
|
||
|
The nearest vehicle parked in front is a LARGE PICKUP TRUCK
|
||
|
WITH TWO DIRT BIKES lashed in the bed, seen prominently as
|
||
|
we pass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The POV approaches a door. Number 14.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The door is KICKED OPEN.
|
||
|
Moving inside.
|
||
|
The assault rifle sprays the room, exploding the indistinct
|
||
|
forms on the bed. Staccato glare. Approaching the bed.
|
||
|
Nothing there put the shredded remain of sheets and pillows.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The POV shifts to the BACK DOOR, which is ajar, and moves
|
||
|
toward it. Through the door. Revealing an EMPTY YARD.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
215 INT. PICKUP TRUCK/PARKING LOT - NIGHT 215
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is under the dash, playing with the wires.
|
||
|
Sarah lies on the seat, clutching the nylon satchel, which
|
||
|
bulges with the explosive charges. She has dressed hastily
|
||
|
and is barefoot.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Light it now.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah has been holding a BIC LIGHTER near the tip of a fuse.
|
||
|
She thumbs the flame on. The fuse catches as Reese twists
|
||
|
the wires and the engine starts to turn over.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
216 INT./EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 216
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator spins at the sound of the truck engine catching.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH HIM as he runs the
|
||
|
length of the suite, stops outside the front door.
|
||
|
Whips the AR to his shoulder.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The truck is BACKING WILDLY across the lot B.G.
|
||
|
Terminator turns, looking into CAMERA as a SIZZLING SOUND
|
||
|
becomes audible.
|
||
|
|
||
|
DETAIL - PIPE CHARGE, lying just inside the door, in the
|
||
|
shadows. The fuse is burning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE SHOT - On doorway, from the parking lot, as Terminator
|
||
|
takes two leaping strides forward and the CHARGE EXPLODES.
|
||
|
The front of the building is BLOWN TO KINDLING.
|
||
|
Terminator is flung forward by the blast.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
217 EXT. STREET/PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 217
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANNING RAPIDLY as the truck shoots out of the parking lot
|
||
|
and tears down the street.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
218 EXT. MOTEL - NIGHT 218
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator lies face down, motionless, F.G., as the debris
|
||
|
from the blast settles. A YOUNG GUY ON A HONDA 750 crosses
|
||
|
the parking lot and stops near him, running forward.
|
||
|
Terminator starts to get up, moving slowly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
RIDER
|
||
|
(crouching be-
|
||
|
side him)
|
||
|
Don't try to move, buddy.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH TERMINATOR as he shoves the cyclist aside and
|
||
|
approaches the BIKE, which is STILL RUNNING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
219/FX PARKING LOT/TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 219/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
Digitized POV, approaching the cycle. The image reduces
|
||
|
to GRAPHIC OUTLINES, with separate systems COLOR-CODED.
|
||
|
It breaks down suddenly into individual SIDE, TOP and PLAN
|
||
|
VIEWS. All in less than four seconds.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
220 INT./EXT. FREEWAY/PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 220
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese slides the truck into an ON-RAMP and guns in onto the
|
||
|
freeway, burying the throttle. Traffic is light...a few
|
||
|
18-wheelers. The truck tops out at 110 and he holds it.
|
||
|
They flicker rapidly through pools of light and shadow.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE OVER REESE'S SHOULDER as they hurtle forward. An
|
||
|
interchange flashes by in an instant.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PACING WITH THE TRUCK, looking back as a single headlight
|
||
|
arcs radically across all lanes behind them and grows
|
||
|
BRIGHTER, CLOSING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
221 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 221
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW WIDE ANGLE preceding Terminator on the bike. He is
|
||
|
tucked, getting as much speed as possible out of the 750.
|
||
|
As he GAINS ON THE CAMERA, FILLING FRAME, he unslings the
|
||
|
assault rifle. Raises it against the windstream in a one-
|
||
|
handed pistol grip.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
222 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 222
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese motions Sarah to keep her head down. He pulls the
|
||
|
Colt Python from his coat pocket. Steering with his elbows,
|
||
|
he checks the load. Snaps the cylinder shut. Glances in
|
||
|
the rear mirror. Turns the wheel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
223 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 223
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE ANGLE, following close to Terminator, as he closes on
|
||
|
the pickup, B.G. The truck swerves suddenly, diving around
|
||
|
a TRACTOR-TRAILER. Terminator leans hard to follow.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW WIDE ANGLE preceding the pickup and Terminator as they
|
||
|
swerve as high speed. Reese uses the slow semis as static
|
||
|
obstacles. He misses them by inches, TIRES SQUEALING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE OVER SARAH'S SHOULDER, through the front window as
|
||
|
the back of a SEMI-TRAILER hurtles toward them, straight ahead.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HIGH ANGLE, following both vehicles as Reese feints RIGHT
|
||
|
and then skids LEFT. He slides toward the trailer in a
|
||
|
FOUR-WHEEL DRIFT as Terminator commits to the right.
|
||
|
|
||
|
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, over the barrel of the AR, as he FIRES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SIDE ANGLE - PASSING TRUCK-TRAILER, bullets strafe across
|
||
|
it as the pickup vanishes behind. Terminator skids the
|
||
|
bike, barely missing an abutment, and is forced onto an
|
||
|
OFF-RAMP.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW SIDE ANGLE preceding Terminator as he roars down the
|
||
|
off-ramp without slowing. Runs the red light at the bottom
|
||
|
as a hundred miles an hour. Climbs the ON-RAMP.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
224 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 224
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is buffeted as Reese fights to control the skidding
|
||
|
truck. The angle is past Reese, F.G., on Sarah.
|
||
|
Terminator appears B.G., converging rapidly as the on-ramp
|
||
|
joins the freeway.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
Switch places with me.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She slides over him while he keeps the hammer down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
225 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 225
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese is out the window to the waist, aiming double-
|
||
|
handed. He FIRES. ONCE. TWICE. AGAIN.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They enter an interchange. Ahead lies a LONG, SWEEPING
|
||
|
CURVE, two lanes wide and elevated.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator rocks back from a round between the eyes that
|
||
|
bares metal, the FIRES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Bullets rake the pickup.
|
||
|
The windows are blown out.
|
||
|
The side mirror explodes.
|
||
|
Reese is hit. Drops the .357.
|
||
|
Sarah screams and weaves, barely in control.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
226 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 226
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah reaches across and pulls Reese's limp body back
|
||
|
inside. He slumps on the seat, moaning. Stunned.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Kyle...oh God...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He has a bullet in the chest. Another has broken his arm.
|
||
|
Sarah feels all hope recede.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
227 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 227
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator crosses behind the truck, coming up on Sarah's side.
|
||
|
He FIRES.
|
||
|
Sarah shrieks as the doorpost next to her head CLANGS WITH
|
||
|
HITS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The short burst EMPTIES THE GUN.
|
||
|
It CLATTERS TO THE PAVEMENT a moment later, discarded.
|
||
|
Terminator draws the .38. Takes aim.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah SCREAMS. HITS THE BREAKS HARD. CRANKS THE WHEEL.
|
||
|
GLASS behind her EXPLODES with gunfire.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SWERVING VICIOUSLY the truck SLAMS THE BIKE, sending it
|
||
|
FLYING INTO A GUARDRAIL. Terminator goes over the handle
|
||
|
bars at a hundred miles per hour.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
228 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 228
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah fights the wheel, losing control of the slewing pickup.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
229 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 229
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator hits the pavement, tumbling, rolling, sliding
|
||
|
with a CHATTERING SCREECH and spraying sheets of SPARKS
|
||
|
as flesh strips away and steel screams on concrete.
|
||
|
The pickup SWAPS ENDS violently, smashing into the guardrail.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator hits the guardrail, bounces up, tumbles along the
|
||
|
top and then pitches OUT INTO SPACE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
230 EXT. INTERSECTING FREEWAY - NIGHT 230
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator smashes to the pavement in the middle lane and
|
||
|
lies there, face-down. Still.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
231 INT./EXT. PICKUP/OVERPASS - NIGHT 231
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is slammed hard as the truck grinds to a stop against
|
||
|
the guardrail. She checks Kyle. He is barely conscious.
|
||
|
Sarah heaves open the door. Runs to the guardrail. Looks down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
232 EXT. LOWER FREEWAY - NIGHT 232
|
||
|
|
||
|
After a long moment Terminator slowly rolls over and sits up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE as he rises into FRAME, a mass of blood. Clothing
|
||
|
and skin in tatters.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HEADLIGHTS FLARE behind him and an AIRHORN BLARES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT as a DOUBLE-TRAILER KENWORTH GASOLINE TANKER smashes
|
||
|
him down and under with a METALLIC CRASH.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE UNDER TANKER as Terminator rolls, clattering, and the
|
||
|
mass blurs above him. He RICOCHETS between the pavement and
|
||
|
the speeding undercarriage until a stray bounce flings him
|
||
|
up into the rear suspension.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
233 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 233
|
||
|
|
||
|
UP ANGLE ON SARAH
|
||
|
|
||
|
at the railing, looking down. She raises one fist into
|
||
|
the air triumphantly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Alriiight!
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
234 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 234
|
||
|
|
||
|
The stunned DRIVER hits the brakes. His PARTNER grabs
|
||
|
his arm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PARTNER
|
||
|
Don't stop.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They lock eyes for a moment.
|
||
|
DRIVER.
|
||
|
I have to, man.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
235 EXT. FREEWAY/TANKER 235
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE UNDER THE REAR TRAILER
|
||
|
|
||
|
Terminator clings with inhuman strength to the rear suspen-
|
||
|
sion. The pavement blurs by beneath him. The air brakes
|
||
|
howl.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
236 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 236
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah watches the truck roll on without leaving a body
|
||
|
in its wake.
|
||
|
She feels a premonitory dread.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
237 EXT. FREEWAY/TANKER - NIGHT 237
|
||
|
|
||
|
Beneath the braking semi, Terminator CRAWLS UPSIDE DOWN,
|
||
|
hand over hand like a HUMAN FLY, toward CAMERA. The
|
||
|
left eye GLOWS LIKE A COAL in the dark. As the pavement
|
||
|
stops beneath him he drops off and rolls out from under
|
||
|
the truck.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
238 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 238
|
||
|
|
||
|
The driver looks around in astonishment as his door is
|
||
|
ripped open.
|
||
|
Terminator appears. A grisly apparition.
|
||
|
FLINGS THE DRIVER OUT and takes his place behind the wheel.
|
||
|
Ignoring the terrified partner, he examines the controls.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
238/FX POV - TERMINATOR 238/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
In digitized cyborg-vision we see an ABSTRACT OF THE
|
||
|
INSTRUMENTS. The shift lever is extended graphically
|
||
|
down into a three-dimensional SCHEMATIC OF THE TRANS-
|
||
|
MISSION. Analytical DATA PRINTS OUT RAPID-FIRE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
239 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 239
|
||
|
|
||
|
From the railing Sarah sees the tanker below as
|
||
|
|
||
|
a body falls beside it, rolling.
|
||
|
The truck swings in a slow arc.
|
||
|
TEARS THROUGH THE DIVIDING FENCE.
|
||
|
Heads back toward her on the wrong side of the freeway.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She stares in numb horror.
|
||
|
The nightmare refuses to end.
|
||
|
She runs to the crippled pickup and sees a front tire flat,
|
||
|
shredded by a crumpled fender.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She searches the cab frantically for the KEYS TO THE
|
||
|
MOTORCYCLES. Finds them above the sun visor.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah leaps into the bed of the pickup and attacks the
|
||
|
motorcycle strap-downs frantically.
|
||
|
Panting with terror she rolls the bike off the truck.
|
||
|
It crashes on its side and she falls on it painfully.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Straining until she CRIES OUT INVOLUNTARILY, she lifts
|
||
|
it upright.
|
||
|
KICKS the engine over.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
as the tanker crashes back through the divider and starts
|
||
|
UP THE OVERPASS. Sarah is trapped in that concrete corridor.
|
||
|
She kicks for her life.
|
||
|
The bike catches for a moment. Dies.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The truck BELLOWS, down-shifting on the curving grade.
|
||
|
Sarah kicks again and again, crying out with each stroke.
|
||
|
Again and again, furiously.
|
||
|
The engine CATCHES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(rapidly)
|
||
|
Come on, come on, come on
|
||
|
...run, you...
|
||
|
|
||
|
The bike runs with a healthy roar.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
up the face of the tractor-trailer, the retaining wall blur-
|
||
|
ring by. Terminator's red eye can be seen through the wind-
|
||
|
shield.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah drags Reese, stumbling,to the bike, props him on the
|
||
|
seat behind her. He clutches the satchel weakly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Hold on real tight, okay?
|
||
|
|
||
|
She guns the engine and roars off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE
|
||
|
|
||
|
as the tanker demolishes the pickup a moment later, TOSSING
|
||
|
IT OVER THE SIDE LIKE A BEER CAN.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
240 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 240
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah hits level freeway with a quarter-mile lead on the
|
||
|
tanker, distant B.G., but the little bike is overloaded
|
||
|
and she can't coax it above seventy-five.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON TANKER roaring forward, shifting up through
|
||
|
the gears.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON SARAH AND KYLE, his head lolling on her shoulder.
|
||
|
He starts to fall sideways.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Hold on, goddamnit!
|
||
|
|
||
|
He rouses slightly, gripping her tighter.
|
||
|
|
||
|
HIGH ANGLE - MOVING WITH BOTH VEHICLES as Sarah starts to
|
||
|
ZIGZAG desperately across all four lanes. The truck stays
|
||
|
with her, closing, its trailer WHIPLASHING VIOLENTLY.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
241 EXT./INT. TUNNEL - NIGHT 241
|
||
|
|
||
|
The truck is right behind them as then enter a TUNNEL.
|
||
|
A half-mile of exitless concrete and strobing fluorescent
|
||
|
lights.
|
||
|
|
||
|
M.C.U. - SARAH AND KYLE (PROCESS SHOT) - He blinks and looks
|
||
|
back at a SOLID WALL OF METAL AND LIGHTS looming behind them.
|
||
|
Sarah hunches down. They hit eighty.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT - The leviathan dwarfs them, its big tires ROARING
|
||
|
like the hubs of Hell.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
242 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 242
|
||
|
|
||
|
The tanker is twenty feet behind them as they clear the
|
||
|
tunnel. Sarah dodges to one side and LOCKS THE BRAKES.
|
||
|
The bike slides, fish-tailing.
|
||
|
The truck roars past, hitting the air-brakes.
|
||
|
The trailers force her closer and closer to the guardrail
|
||
|
as Terminator tries to sandwich her.
|
||
|
The bike slides to a stop.
|
||
|
The rearmost set of trailer wheels slams into the guardrail
|
||
|
right in front of Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah emerges from a cloud of tire smoke, cutting across
|
||
|
all four lances behind the stopped semi.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
243 EXT. FREEWAY EMBANKMENT - NIGHT 243
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah tries to ride down the steep embankment but loses
|
||
|
control, spilling the bike. She and Kyle tumble down
|
||
|
the slope.
|
||
|
|
||
|
MOVING WITH HER as she scrambles, half-dragging Kyle, through
|
||
|
a row of trees at a chainlink retaining fence. She crawls
|
||
|
under the fence, tugs Kyle and the satchel through after.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah looks up at the source of a SUDDEN THUNDEROUS ROAR.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
243/FX ANGLE ON TANKER 243/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
It appears above them, grinding over the embankment. It
|
||
|
rolls down the steep slope TOWARD CAMERA, FLATTENING TREES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
244 EXT. INDUSTRIAL SITE - NIGHT 244
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Kyle scramble up and run across the STORAGE LOT
|
||
|
of a MODERN FACTORY COMPLEX of LOW BUILDINGS. Kyle struggles
|
||
|
to keep up, holding the satchel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LIKE A JUGGERNAUT the truck follows, smashing through parked
|
||
|
cars and FLATTENING A PRE-FAB STORAGE BUILDING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
They enter an alley-like space between two buildings.
|
||
|
Kyle is fumbling to open the satchel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE BACK as the tanker enters the alley. It TEARS THE
|
||
|
CORNER OFF ONE BUILDING as it turns in. Terminator looks
|
||
|
down from his mountain of steel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
245 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 245
|
||
|
|
||
|
OVER TERMINATOR'S SHOULDER, looking down at a tiny figure
|
||
|
below, running in the headlights' glare. It is Sarah, alone.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
246 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 246
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese crouches in a TRASH-DUMPSTER which is sandwiched
|
||
|
between the wall and the tanker. There are only inches
|
||
|
of clearance as the trailers pass by.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He lights a PIPE CHARGE, jumps up and wedges it under the
|
||
|
tank-cylinder of the second trailer.
|
||
|
He ducks as it rolls on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is stumbling in the glare of the truck's lights.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - PIPE BOMB, the fuse burning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, through the windshield, his eye glowing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE huddles in the dumpster.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
247/FX LOW WIDE ANGLE ON SARAH AND TRAILER (PROCESS SHOT) 247/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
The REAR TRAILER EXPLODES. An unbelievable FIREBALL ERUPTS
|
||
|
SKYWARD, silhouetting Sarah's running figure F.G.
|
||
|
The dumpster is enveloped by fire and hurled, rolling, down
|
||
|
the alley.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah makes it around a corner as the FORWARD TRAILER
|
||
|
EXPLODES and an OCEAN OF FLAME rolls forward, blasting by her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The dumpster topples and Kyle rolls out, surrounded by fire.
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
248/FX SEQUENCE - TERMINATOR 248/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
In the center of the inferno Terminator struggles violently.
|
||
|
His FLESH FIRES AND SIZZLES. He tears loose from the
|
||
|
TWISTED WRECKAGE and collapses to the ground. Sinks into
|
||
|
a CHARRED MASS. STOPS MOVING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - TERMINATOR, mouth open, skull-like, motionless
|
||
|
in the flames.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
249 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 249
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah crawls away from the intense heat and lies watching
|
||
|
the motionless figure in the blaze.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
250 EXT. ALLEY/FAR END - NIGHT 250
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah rounds the corner, staggering, searching.
|
||
|
She sees Kyle crumpled face-down near the dumpster, sheltered
|
||
|
from the heat by its mass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She drags his away. Rolls him over.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - REESE, his head lolls. He opens his eyes
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(weakly)
|
||
|
Sarah.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
We did it, Kyle. We got it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
She hugs him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
250/FX FULL SHOT (PROCESS) 250/FX
|
||
|
|
||
|
They hold the embrace, silhouetted by the diminishing flames.
|
||
|
It would be a wonderful final image.
|
||
|
Except...TERMINATOR STAGGERS OUT OF THE BLAZE BEHIND THEM.
|
||
|
|
||
|
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, the last flakes of flesh are falling
|
||
|
from him like burning leaves. His gleaming structure is
|
||
|
revealed in all its intricacy. No longer a 'He', but an 'It'.
|
||
|
It looks like Death rendered in steel.
|
||
|
A CHROME SKELETON with HYDRAULIC MUSCLES and TENDONS OF
|
||
|
FLEXIBLE CABLE. In the sockets of the metal skull, the
|
||
|
eyeball swivels with a WHIR of tiny servos, both glowing
|
||
|
red now.
|
||
|
|
||
|
It turns slowly and fixes its gaze directly INTO CAMERA.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
251 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 251
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH - She chokes on a scream, crams knuckles in
|
||
|
her mouth.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT (FX), as the machine takes a step toward them,
|
||
|
dragging one MALFUNCTIONING LEG.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE WITH KYLE AND SARAH as they stagger to their feet
|
||
|
and run to the nearest building. They come to a glass door.
|
||
|
Kyle kicks it in. Unlatches it. They enter dark OFFICES
|
||
|
to the sound of ALARMS and DISTANT SIRENS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
252 INT. CORRIDORS - NIGHT 252
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Kyle run down a corridor.
|
||
|
Through a door, which they close and lock.
|
||
|
They move off down a cross-corridor.
|
||
|
The Terminator BLASTS THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES, F.G., and
|
||
|
staggers through. It starts after their receding figures
|
||
|
as they round the corner at the end of the hall.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
253 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 253
|
||
|
|
||
|
Wracked, exhausted, they stumble through a maze of PARTI-
|
||
|
TIONED OFFICE CUBICLES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
254 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 254
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Terminator catches sight of them through a floor-to-
|
||
|
ceiling window. It makes an unhesitating right turn through
|
||
|
the glass.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
255 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 255
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Kyle look back at the sound of SHATTERING GLASS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING THE TERMINATOR as it crashes forward,
|
||
|
line-of-sight, through the maze. It splinters partitions.
|
||
|
Flings desks out of the way.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FOLLOWING SARAH AND KYLE as they reach a heavy FIREDOOR and
|
||
|
go through.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
256 INT. MANUFACTURING AREA - NIGHT 256
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle slides the bolts on the metal firedoor. Behind them
|
||
|
are acres of machinery in darkness. Silence.
|
||
|
CRASH! The Terminator hits the door from the far side.
|
||
|
Hinges SQUEAL.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle goes to a LARGE BREAKER PANEL and opens it. Starts
|
||
|
throwing switches. Behind them, machines START UP ONE BY ONE.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(panting)
|
||
|
What are you doing?
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(weakly)
|
||
|
Cover...our footsteps...
|
||
|
|
||
|
He sags, sliding down the wall. She pulls him up.
|
||
|
Half-carries him into the maze of machines.
|
||
|
The dark gallery is filled with WHIRRING, CLANKING SHAPES,
|
||
|
SHATTERING CONVEYER BELTS and improbable mechanisms lashing
|
||
|
mindlessly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese slips to the floor and Sarah is no longer able to
|
||
|
support him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(faintly)
|
||
|
Leave me here.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah crouches beside him.
|
||
|
Grabs his shirt front.
|
||
|
Yells over the machines.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
I'm not leaving you anywhere
|
||
|
you jerk. Haven't you figured
|
||
|
it out? Kyle, John is our
|
||
|
son.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Reese's eyes refocus.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
There isn't going to be
|
||
|
anybody else...I don't want
|
||
|
anybody else. Listen to
|
||
|
me!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She pauses, then resumes in a commanding, military shout.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Move! Reese! Let's go.
|
||
|
Move you ass!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She drags him to his feet and he staggers on.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Hinges SHATTER and the firedoor is hurled inward.
|
||
|
The Terminator scans the darkness.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE - PANNING WITH SARAH AND KYLE as they move through
|
||
|
the machines.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The cyborg steps forward, scanning methodically.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah and Kyle move in a crouch through the treacherous
|
||
|
tangle of pipes and machinery. Kyle picks up a length of
|
||
|
pipe to use as a weapon. As they climb out onto a cat-
|
||
|
walk between the two huge mechanisms, Sarah clambers over
|
||
|
an innocuous CONTROL PANEL.
|
||
|
Her knee inadvertently hits a RED PUSH BUTTON.
|
||
|
With a ROAR the stamping-plate of a HYDRAULIC PRESS slams
|
||
|
down an inch from her hand.
|
||
|
Startled, she tumbles to the catwalk.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Terminator's eyes swivel as he hears the single non-
|
||
|
rhythmic sound.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Kyle and Sarah run to the end of the catwalk, but find the
|
||
|
door there locked.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
Come on!
|
||
|
|
||
|
They double back to escape the cul-de-sac. The Terminator
|
||
|
steps in front of them, cutting them off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(shouting)
|
||
|
Run!
|
||
|
|
||
|
He pushes Sarah roughly and she stumbles away.
|
||
|
Kyle raises the pipe with his good arm as the Terminator
|
||
|
advances.
|
||
|
|
||
|
REESE
|
||
|
(over his
|
||
|
shoulder)
|
||
|
Run, damn it!
|
||
|
|
||
|
She hesitates, backing away.
|
||
|
The cyborg swings at Reese
|
||
|
STEEL CLANGS ON STEEL.
|
||
|
Kyle strikes and parries but is sledgehammered back.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON CATWALK as Kyle lands in a heap, smashed against
|
||
|
a stanchion of the railing which prevented him falling to
|
||
|
the factory floor twenty feet below.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah turns and runs.
|
||
|
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE PAST REESE, F.G., as the cyborg approaches him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - A FUSE BURNING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - KYLE'S FACE streaked with blood, pressed to the
|
||
|
floor as a metal foot CLANGS DOWN, F.G. His eyes snap open.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah falls, gets up, runs on.
|
||
|
The Terminator draws back for a death blow.
|
||
|
And Kyle rolls with the last of his strength, raising
|
||
|
the pipe bomb he has been cradling. He jams it between two
|
||
|
hydraulic cylinders just beneath the cyborg's armored rib-
|
||
|
cage. Then rolls off the catwalk. Terminator has an instant
|
||
|
to react, reaching for the bomb, before it EXPLODES.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is pitched forward by the blast and slides on the
|
||
|
floor.
|
||
|
Slams up against one wall.
|
||
|
A withering spray of shrapnel strafes the walls around her.
|
||
|
Pieces of scrap metal clatter throughout the factory, rain-
|
||
|
ing down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH, very still. She winces and opens her eyes.
|
||
|
Slowly looks up.
|
||
|
|
||
|
POV - SARAH, as the smoke clears. The Terminator is GONE.
|
||
|
Unrecognizable clumps of BURNING DEBRIS lie scattered about.
|
||
|
Looking down through the grating floor she sees Kyle's
|
||
|
body.
|
||
|
LOW ANGLE ON KYLE F.G., Sarah on catwalk above. Kyle's eyes
|
||
|
are half-open. Still. His face peaceful.
|
||
|
ANGLE ON ONE OF THE FIRES climbing some plastic tubing and
|
||
|
triggering a SPRINKLER HEAD. It begins to rain.
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH sitting up as the water runs over her.
|
||
|
She looks down. Protruding from her right thigh is a TWISTED
|
||
|
PIECE OF METAL. Shrapnel. Part of the cyborg. She pulls
|
||
|
it out, grimacing. Her leg is broken.
|
||
|
|
||
|
It is a long time before she can gather the will to move.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH'S POV - She sees a WALL PHONE several yards away,
|
||
|
beyond the debris from the explosion.
|
||
|
She starts to crawl toward it.
|
||
|
She passes A LARGE CLUMP OF DEBRIS, F.G.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON DEBRIS (FX) as it rolls over suddenly!
|
||
|
Now recognizable as the TERMINATOR'S HEAD AND ARMS, with
|
||
|
half of the scattered torso trailing wires and twisted
|
||
|
metal.
|
||
|
|
||
|
IT LUNGES FOR HER!
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah wants to scream this time, from the depths of her
|
||
|
soul, but there is no scream, only a dry shivering sob.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Terminator drags itself SCRAPING over the floor, steel
|
||
|
fingers clutching.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is shaking and whimpering as she scrabbles away,
|
||
|
crawling in agony.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON CONVEYOR BELT as Sarah flops from the catwalk
|
||
|
onto the MOVING STRIP. She is carried into the intricate
|
||
|
lattice of equipment. Sarah rolls off weakly before going
|
||
|
under a set of sorting rollers.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE THROUGH MACHINERY - ON THE TERMINATOR (FX) as it crawls
|
||
|
after her, dragging its body. It tracks her unerringly,
|
||
|
EYES GLOWING.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah moves deeper into the DARK, CLASHING JUNGLE of machinery.
|
||
|
Around her is a rain-drenched tangle of CABLES, PIPES and
|
||
|
unforgiving mechanisms of steel.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Terminator clambers through after her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - SARAH - Water pours into her eyes as she catches
|
||
|
sight of something. A familiar CONTROL BOX.
|
||
|
She drags herself toward it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
C.U. - THE TERMINATOR (FX) - It spots her wedged in a tiny
|
||
|
crawl space. No way out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
It crawls the last few feet,EYES RED IN THE DARK.
|
||
|
Hypnotized, Sarah watches the Terminator REACHING TOWARD HER.
|
||
|
She is jammed in a corner.
|
||
|
Sarah's hand claws around to the front of the control panel,
|
||
|
seeking the RED BUTTON.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - HER WET FINGERTIPS FEEL THE BUTTON.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE ON THE TERMINATOR (FX), his steel hand reaching out.
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - SARAH, her face inexplicably calm, eyes steady in
|
||
|
that infinite instant. She clenches her teeth to keep
|
||
|
from screaming as she WAITS.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The Terminator's hand reaches for her throat to crush
|
||
|
the life out of her and end its long mission.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(voice icy)
|
||
|
You're...terminated...fucker!
|
||
|
|
||
|
E.C.U. - BUTTON, as her bloody finger stabs it down.
|
||
|
|
||
|
FULL SHOT, showing how the cyborg has been led into the
|
||
|
MAW OF THE HYDRAULIC PRESS.
|
||
|
THE STAMPING PLATE THUNDERS DOWN!
|
||
|
Tons of mechanical pressure flatten the Terminator's head
|
||
|
and body like tin-foil. The PRESS SCREAMS, jamming solid.
|
||
|
Lightning snaps out in one brief blaze, leaping to surround-
|
||
|
ing machinery, arcing to Sarah's wristwatch. All the
|
||
|
Terminator's energy is released in one second.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ANGLE on the narrow gap between the upper and lower plates:
|
||
|
a pinpoint of red light DWINDLES AND GOES OUT.
|
||
|
TIGHT ON SARAH, shivering uncontrollably. The steel fingers
|
||
|
are frozen an inch from her throat. She can only stare as
|
||
|
water runs over her.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
257 INT. FACTORY - DAWN 257
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLOSE ON the side rail of an ambulance gurney SNAPPING UP
|
||
|
into position. Sarah's eyes are closed and she is moved
|
||
|
OUT OF FRAME.
|
||
|
|
||
|
WIDE SHOT, showing the gurney being rolled by TWO ATTENDANTS
|
||
|
past the site of the last explosion.
|
||
|
SEVERAL POLICE OFFICERS are picking through the debris.
|
||
|
|
||
|
PANNING WITH THE GURNEY as it is wheeled out, holding on
|
||
|
TWO FACTORY EMPLOYEES, F.G.
|
||
|
One, the PLANT MANAGER, bends to examine a piece of the
|
||
|
cyborg lying at the base of the hydraulic press.
|
||
|
A COP, B.G., notices this.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COP
|
||
|
Look, I told you not to
|
||
|
touch anything until we're
|
||
|
done. You got that?
|
||
|
|
||
|
MANAGER
|
||
|
Sure thing, officer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
He stands and palms a small object to HIS ASSISTANT. They
|
||
|
step around the corner.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ASSISTANT
|
||
|
What is it?
|
||
|
|
||
|
MANAGER
|
||
|
Microcomputer chassis. But
|
||
|
I've never seen stuff like
|
||
|
this anywhere.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ASSISTANT
|
||
|
Weird. Jap stuff, maybe?
|
||
|
|
||
|
MANAGER
|
||
|
Keep it out of sight and
|
||
|
get it down to R and D
|
||
|
Monday, first thing.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ASSISTANT
|
||
|
Good idea.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CUT TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
258 EXT. BUILDING - DAWN 258
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah is being lifted into the ambulance. She looks
|
||
|
up as the doors are latched shut.
|
||
|
|
||
|
TILT UP to follow her gaze.
|
||
|
The sign above the entrance of the building reads:
|
||
|
|
||
|
CYBER DYNAMICS CORPORATION
|
||
|
|
||
|
SLOW DISSOLVE TO:
|
||
|
|
||
|
|
||
|
259 INT./EXT. LANDROVER - LATE AFTERNOON 259
|
||
|
|
||
|
MACRO ON CASSETTE RECORDER, the center capstans of a
|
||
|
tape turning.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH (V.O.)
|
||
|
...and the hardest thing is
|
||
|
deciding what I should tell
|
||
|
you and what not to. Well,
|
||
|
anyway, I've got a while yet
|
||
|
before you're old enough to
|
||
|
understand the tapes. They're
|
||
|
more for me at this point...
|
||
|
to help get it all straight.
|
||
|
|
||
|
COVER SHOT reveals Sarah as the wheel of a dusty landrover
|
||
|
parked at the pump island of a tiny gas station. All of
|
||
|
its signs are in hand-lettered Spanish. Beyond lies an
|
||
|
expanse of scrub desert. The sky scowls with an impending
|
||
|
storm.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah speaks quietly into a hand microphone as a dark-
|
||
|
complected attendant laconically fills her tank. She
|
||
|
cradles the cassette recorder in her lap, in the lee of
|
||
|
her SWOLLEN BELLY.
|
||
|
She looks to be about SIX MONTHS ALONG.
|
||
|
Under her down vest she wears a leather shoulder holster
|
||
|
and the butt of a .357 REVOLVER presses against her
|
||
|
breast. She tugs the vest closed as the attendant glances
|
||
|
her way. A German Shepherd sits in the back among taped
|
||
|
boxes and suitcases.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(continuing)
|
||
|
Should I tell you about your
|
||
|
father? That's a tough one.
|
||
|
Will it change your decision
|
||
|
to send him here...knowing?
|
||
|
But if you don't send Kyle,
|
||
|
you could never be. God,
|
||
|
you can go crazy thinking
|
||
|
about all this...I suppose
|
||
|
I'll tell you...I owe him that.
|
||
|
And maybe it'll be enough if
|
||
|
you know that in the few hours
|
||
|
we had together we loved a
|
||
|
lifetime's worth...
|
||
|
|
||
|
CLICK. WHIR. Sarah jumps at a sound nearby, breaking
|
||
|
her reverie. A small MEXICAN BOY has snapped her picture
|
||
|
with a beat-up Polaroid camera. He holds it out to her,
|
||
|
speaking rapid Spanish.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ATTENDANT
|
||
|
He says you are very beautiful,
|
||
|
Senora, and he is ashamed to ask
|
||
|
five American dollars for this
|
||
|
picture, but if he does not,
|
||
|
his father will beat him.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
That's a pretty good hustle,
|
||
|
kid. Four. Quatro.
|
||
|
|
||
|
The boy takes her four dollars and she watches the
|
||
|
snapshot develop. It is a good photograph of her,
|
||
|
the wind lightly ruffling her hair, expression thought-
|
||
|
ful, slightly sad.
|
||
|
|
||
|
We recognize it as the one Reese carried in 2029.
|
||
|
She slips it into her short pocket.
|
||
|
|
||
|
ATTENDANT
|
||
|
Mil trescientos...fifteen dollars
|
||
|
American.
|
||
|
|
||
|
As she pays him, distant thunder rolls.
|
||
|
The boy yells something in Spanish as he runs off.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
What did he say?
|
||
|
|
||
|
ATTENDANT
|
||
|
(accented)
|
||
|
There is a storm coming in.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Sarah gazes at the thunderheads building up out over the
|
||
|
desert. Heat lightning pulses in their depths.
|
||
|
|
||
|
SARAH
|
||
|
(quietly)
|
||
|
I know.
|
||
|
|
||
|
CAMERA CRANES UP as she pulls away, driving across the
|
||
|
flat desert on a ribbon of highway. A brilliant flash
|
||
|
crescendos from horizon to horizon out at the rim of the
|
||
|
world.
|