TERMINATOR II: THE UNCENSORED AND UNABRIDGED FILMSCRIPT
PART V
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93 Int. / Ext. Pickup truck / Highway - Day
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THE OPEN ROAD. The pick-up roars through light traffic down a
long stretch of highway. They sit three abreast on the bench
seat, John in between, like some improbable family on a car trip.
Sara leans over to get a look at the speedometer.
SARA: "Keep it under sixty five. We can't afford to get pulled
over."
Terminator backs off the throttle slightly.
Terminator: "Affirmative."
John: "No, no, no. You gotta listen to the way people talk.
See, you don't say like "Affirmative" or some shit like that.
You say... no problemo."
Terminator nods, filing away the information. Sara is ignoring
the lesson, lost in thought.
John: "If someone gets upset you say " chill out". If someone
comes off to you with attitude, you say "eat me"... if you wanna
shine them on it's "Hasta la vista, baby"."
Terminator: "Hasta la vista, baby?"
John: "Yeah, or "later, dickwad." Or if someone gets upset you
say "chill out." Like that. Or you can do combinations."
Terminator: "Chill out, dickwad."
John: "That's great! See, you're getting it."
Terminator: "No problemo."
Cut to:
(Due to mysterious reasons beyond the power of the editorial
staff of ST NEWS to befathom, scenes 94 and, 94A and 95 were
labelled 'OMITTED'. Well, at least we learned here that it's
spelt like that instead of 'OMMITTED' or 'OMMITED', ED.)
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96 Ext. Roadside stand/Gas station - Day
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There's a gas pump and a sleazy fast-food stand. Picnic tables
are set up at the side of the food stand. A family sits at one,
children playing and running about.
<-96A->
The pickup truck pulls into the lot. Stops at the gas pump.
Sara turns to John.
SARA: "You got any cash?"
John pulls what's left of his Ready Teller money from his
pocket.
John: "Only a couple of hundred. I'll give you half."
Sara grabs all of it. Peels off a twenty, Hands it to John.
SARA: "Get some food."
She opens the truck door and steps out. John turns to
Terminator.
John: "No sense of humor."
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97 THE ORDERING WINDOW as John and Terminator approach.
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John: "And that's another thing. You could lighten up a bit,
yourself. This severe routine is getting old. Smile once in a
while."
Terminator: "Smile?"
John: "Yeah. Smile. You know. People smile, right? Watch."
Goes to the order window.
John (smiling broadly): "Hi. Nice place you got here. How's
business?
Window woman (stone faced): "Gimme a break."
John (to Terminator): "Okay. Bad example. Over there, look."
John points at THREE TEENAGE GUYS standing at a drinking
fountain nearby. One of them has said something funny and the
others are laughing, grinning.
John: "Like that."
TERMINATOR POV (DIGITIZED) The real-time image continues while
a replay of one of the guys grinning runs in a window. It
expands, so that the guy's mouth fills the window. Replays again
in slow motion. A vector-graphic of lips smiling appears, along
with an array of symbolic data.
Terminator tries it. The result is dismal. A rictus-like
curling up of the lip. Terminator's next effort is a marginal
improvement.
John: "I don't know, maybe you could practice in front of a
mirror or something."
CUT TO:
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98 EXT. REST STOP/PICKUP TRUCK - DAY (LATER)
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Sara and John are eating cheeseburgers and fries, sitting in the
truck and on the curb respectively. They are parked away from
the other families, at the end of the gravel parking area.
Terminator is pouring coolant into the radiator. Sara is deep in
thought, turning and turning the whole thing in her brain. John,
unable to deal with her silence, goes around to where Terminator
is working.
<-98A->
John sees two kids playing with machine-gun watering pistols
nearby, viciously squirting each other.
First kid: "You're dead!"
Second kid: "Am not!"
First kid: "Are so!"
John and Terminator watch them rolling on the ground in a fight
to the death. Sara rounds the front of the truck, and sees the
kids. John sighs, solemn. He looks up at the cyborg.
John: "We're not gonna make it, are we? People, I mean."
Terminator: "It is in your nature to destroy yourselves."
John nods, depressed.
John: "Yeah. Drag, huh?"
SARA: "I need to know how Skynet gets built. Who's responsible?"
Terminator: "The man most directly responsible is Miles Bennet
Dyson, director of Special Projects at Cyberdyne Systems
Corporation."
SARA: "Why him?"
Terminator: "In a few months he creates a revolutionary type of
microprocessor."
SARA: "Then what?"
<-98B->
Terminator closes the hood and gets into the truck as he speaks.
Terminator: "In three years Cyberdyne will become the largest
supplier of military computer systems. All stealth bombers are
upgraded with Cyberdyne computers, becoming fully unmanned.
Afterward, they fly with a perfect operational record."
SARA (getting in behind John): "Uh huh, great. Then those fat
fucks in Washington figure, what the hell, let a computer run the
whole show, right?"
Terminator: "Basically."
(starting the engine, backing out)
"The Skynet funding bill is passed. The system goes on-line
August 4th, 1997. Human decisions are removed from strategic
defense. Skynet begins to learn, at a geometric rate. It
becomes self-aware at 2:14 a.m. eastern time, August 29. In a
panic, they try to pull the plug.
SARA: "And Skynet fights back."
They accelerate back onto the highway.
Terminator: "Yes. It launches its ICBMs against their targets
in Russia."
SARA: "Why attack Russia?"
Terminator: "Because Skynet knows the Russian counter-strike
will remove its enemies here."
SARA: "Jesus."
(beat, then)
"How much do you know about Dyson?"
Terminator: "I have detailed files."
SARA: "I want to know everything. What he looks like. Where he
lives. Everything."
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99 Int. Dyson house - Day
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Miles Dyson sits at the huge desk in his study. He is deep in
thought, tapping away at the keyboard of his home computer
terminal. Next to his desk are racks of sophisticated gear. On
a Sunday morning, when most men are relaxing, spending time with
their families, Dyson is hard at work.
IN A PROFILE CLOSEUP we see him in deep concentration, his mind
prowling the labyrinth of his new microprocessor.
A WOMAN'S FACE ENTERS FRAME soundlessly behind him. He doesn't
hear her. His wife, TARISSA, extends her tongue and traces it
down the back of his neck. He smiles and turns to kiss her good
morning. She's still in her bathrobe, holding coffee. He's been
up for hours. He turns and goes back to work, forgetting
instantly that she is standing there.
She watches him work, the arcane symbols moving across the
screen. We see her frustration, her inability to truly enter the
magic box of his world.
Tarissa: "You going to work all day?"
Dyson: "I'm sorry, baby. This thing is just kicking my ass. I
thought we had it with this one..."
He points to a metal box on his desk, about two feet long. An
assembly of 99 small cubes. It looks like a dinosaur version
of Terminator's CPU.
Dyson: "... but the output went to shit after three seconds.
I'm thinking now it's in the way I'm matrixing the command
hierarchies."
Tarissa: "You need a break. You'll see it clearer when you come
back."
Dyson: "I can't."
Tarissa: "Miles, it's Sunday. You promised to take the kids to
Raging Waters today."
Dyson: "Oh. I can't honey. I'm on a roll here."
He takes her hands. We see a childlike excitement in his face.
He wants so badly to share the almost orgasmic thrill of
discovery, the satisfaction of creation.
Dyson: "Baby, this thing is going to blow 'em all away. It's a
neural-net process--"
Tarissa: "I know. You told me. It's a neural-net processor. It
thinks and learns like we do. Its superconducting at room
temperature. Other computers are pocket calculators by
comparison. (she pulls away from him) But why is that so goddamn
important, Miles? I really need to know, cause I feel like I'm
going crazy here, sometimes.
Dyson: "I'm sorry honey, it's just that I'm thiiis close."
He holds up his thumb and index finger... a fraction of an inch
apart. She picks up the prototype. It doesn't look like much.
Dyson: "Imagine a jetliner with a pilot that never makes a
mistake, never gets tired, never shows up to work with a
hangover. (he taps the prototype) Meet the pilot.
Tarissa: "Why did you marry me, Miles? Why did we have these
two children? You don't need us. Your heart and your mind are in
here. (she stares at the metal box in her hands) But it doesn't
love you like we do."
He takes the anodized box from her hands and sets it down. Then
he puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses her gently. She
acquiesces to his kiss.
Dyson: "I'm sorry."
Tarissa glances over his shoulder. She nods her head toward the
doorway to the study. Dyson turns and sees their two kids
standing there. Danny (6) and Blythe (4) look rumpled and
adorable in their PJs. Dyson wilts at their hopeful expressions.
Tarissa: "How about spending some time with your other babies?"
Dyson grins. The forces of darkness have lost this round. He
holds out his hands and his kids run to him, cheering.
CUT TO:
(There have been some omissions here as well, and some
replacements; Axxx probably means 'altered', ED.)
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A100 EXT. Desert / Compound - DAY
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The desert northwest of Calexico. Burning under the sun like a
hallucination. Heat shimmers the image, mirage-like. Terminator
turns the pickup off the paved road and barrels along a roadbed
of sand and gravel, trailing a huge plume of dust. A sign at the
turnoff says: CHARON MESA 2 MI CALEXICO 15 MI
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A101
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AHEAD is a pathetic oasis of humanity in the vast wasteland, a
couple of aging house-trailers, surrounded by assorted junk
vehicles and desert-style trash. There is a dirt airstrip behind
the trailers, and a stripped Huey helicopter sitting on blocks
nearby. The truck rolls to a stop in a cloud of dust. The place
looks deserted. The door to the nearest trailer bangs in the
wind.
SARA (to Terminator and John): "Stay in the truck."
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A102 ANGLE FROM INSIDE ANOTHER TRAILER, NEARBY.
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A DARK FIGURE in the F.G. has an AK 47 trained on the pickup as
Sara gets out.
ON SARA peering through the backlit dust. The sound of wind.
She approaches the trailer.
SARA (in Spanish): "Enrique? You here?"
She hears KACHACK! behind her and spins, whipping out her .45 in
one motion.
ENRIQUE SALCEDA stands behind a rusting jeep, a 12-gauge pump
trained on her. He is mid-forties, a tough Guatemalan with a
weathered face and heavy moustache. He wears cowboy boots and a
flak vest, no shirt.
Salceda: "You pretty jumpy, Conner."
His fierce face breaks into a broad grin. The shotgun drops to
his side as he walks toward her. When he reaches her he hugs
her, then steps back.
Salceda (in Spanish): "Good to see you, Conner. I knew you'd
make it back here sooner or later."
He grins at John as he steps from the truck, and then clocks
Terminator getting out.
Salceda: "Oye, Big John! Que pasa? Who's your very large
friend?"
John (perfect Spanish): "He's cool, Enrique. He's... uh...
this is my Uncle Bob. (to Terminator, in English) Uncle Bob,
this is Enrique.
Terminator smiles. Sort of. Salceda squints at him.
Salceda: "Hmmm. Uncle Bob, huh? Okay. (yelling) Yolanda. Get
out here, we got company. And bring some fucking tequila!"
A thin Guatemalan KID, FRANCO, eighteen or so, comes out of the
trailer with the AK-47, followed by Salceda's wife, YOLANDA. She
has THREE younger children with her, from a five year old GIRL,
JUANITA, to a year-and-half old BOY. She waves at John. They
exchange greetings in Spanish. They seem like nice people.
Terminator looks down at John, next to him. He says quietly...
TERMINATOR: "Uncle Bob?"
SALCEDA (to Sara): "So, Saralita, you getting famous, you know
that? All over the goddamn TV."
Salceda rips the cap off the tequila bottle. The two year old
toddles to Terminator and grabs his pants, sliming them with
drool. Terminator looks down at the tiny kid, fascinated. What
is it? He picks the child up with one huge hand. Looks at it.
Turns it different ways. Studying it. Then sets it down. The
kid waddles off, a little dizzy.
Salceda: "Honey, take Pacolito. Thanks, baby."
She hands him the tequila and takes the child. Salcedo takes a
long pull from the Cuervo bottle.
Salceda (to Terminator): "Drink?"
Terminator gestures "no" at the proffered bottle, but Sara grabs
it and takes a long plug. She lowers it without expression. Her
eyes don't even water.
SARA: "I just came for my stuff. And I need clothes, food, and
one of your trucks."
Salceda (grinning): "Hey, how about the fillings out of my
fucking teeth while you're at it?"
SARA: "Now, Enrique. (turns to Terminator and John) You two are
on weapons detail."
Cut to:
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A103 Ext. Compound/ behind the trailers
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There is an aging and rusted Caterpillar sitting behind one of
the trailers. John expertly backs it toward Terminator who is
holding one end of a piece of heavy chain which disappears into
the sand.
John: "Hook it on."
Terminator hooks the chain onto the towhook on the back of the
tractor. John hits the throttle and the Cat churns its treads,
pulling some massive load. A six-by-eight foot sheet of steel
plate moves slowly under six inches of sand.
John drags it far enough to reveal... a rectangular hole in the
ground like the mouth of a tomb. The kid drops down from the
tractor and walks to the hole.
John: "One thing about my mom... she always plans ahead."
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A104 Int. Weapons Cache
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From inside the "tomb". Sunlight slashes down into a cinder-
block room, less than six feet wide but over twenty long. Sand
spills down the steps. The walls are lined with guns.
John precedes Terminator into Sara's weapons cache. Rifles,
pistols, rocket launchers, mortars, RPGs, radio gear. At the far
end boxes containing ammo, grenades etc. are stacked to the
ceiling. Terminator gets real alert. Scanning, wondering where
to begin. He picks up a MAC 10 machine pistol. Racks the bolt.
Terminator: "Excellent."
John: "Yeah, I thought you'd like this place."
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A105 Ext. Compound / nearby
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Sara emerges from a trailer. She has changed. Boots, black
fatigue pants, T-shirt. Shades. She looks hard. Salceda is
nearby, packing food and other survival equipment with Yolanda.
He looks up as Sara approaches, and slaps the side of a BIG FOUR-
BY BRONCO next to him.
Salceda: "This is the best truck, but the water pump is blown.
You got the time to change it out?"
SARA: "Yeah. I'm gonna wait till dark to cross the border. (she
pulls him away from Yolanda) Enrique, it's dangerous for you
here. You get out tonight, too, okay?"
Salceda: "Yeah, Saralita. Sure. (he grins) Just drop by any
time and totally fuck up my life."
She claps him on the shoulder.
Cut to:
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A106 Int. Weapons cache
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Terminator returns from carrying out several cases of ammo.
John is selecting rifles from a long rack.
John: "See, I grew up in places like this, so I just thought it
was how people lived... riding around in helicopters. Learning
how to blow shit up."
John grabs an AK-47 and racks the bolt with a practiced action.
Inspects the receiver for wear. Doesn't like what he sees. Puts
it back. His movements are efficient. Professional. Uninterested.
John: "Then, when Mom got busted I got put in a regular school.
The other kids were like, into Nintendo."
Terminator has found a Vietnam era "blooper" M-79 grenade
launcher. A very crude, but effective, weapon. He opens the
breech and inspects the bore.
John: "Are you ever afraid?"
Terminator pauses a second. The thought never occurred to him.
He searches his mind for the answer...
Terminator: "No."
Terminator slings the M-79 and starts looking for the grenades.
John: "Not even of dying?"
Terminator: "No."
John: "You don't feel any emotion about it one way or the
other?"
Terminator: "No. I have to stay functional until my mission is
complete. Then it doesn't matter."
John is idly spinning a Sig Saur 9mm pistol on his finger...
backwards and forwards like Bat Masterson.
John: "Yeah. I have to stay functional too. (sing-songy) "I'm
too important"."
Terminator pulls back a canvas tarp, revealing a squat, heavy
weapon with six barrels clustered in a blunt cylinder. Chain-
ammo is fed from a cannister sitting next to it. A G.E. MINI-
GUN. The most fearsome anti-personnel weapon of the Vietnam era.
Terminator hefts it. Looks at John as if to say "Can I?
Please."
John: "It's definitely you."
Cut to:
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A107 Ext. Compound - Day /LATER
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sara and John have their weapons and supply selections laid out
on two battered picnic tables for cleaning and packing. Maps,
radios, documents, explosives, detonators... just the basics.
Sara is field-stripping and cleaning guns, very methodically.
There is no wasted motion.
Not far away, John and Terminator are working on the Bronco.
They're greasy up to their elbows, lying on their backs under the
engine compartment, ratcheting bolts into place on the new water
pump.
John: "There was this one guy that was kinda cool. He taught me
engines. Hold this a second. Mom screwed it up, of course.
Sooner or later she'd always tell them about Judgment Day and me
being this world leader and that'd be all she wrote."
John thinks he's being casual, but his longing for some kind of
parental connection is obvious.
Terminator: "Torque wrench please."
John: "Here. I wish I coulda met my real dad."
Terminator: "You will."
John: "Yeah. I guess so. My mom says when I'm like, 45, I
think, I send him back through time to 1984. But right now he
hasn't even been born yet. Man, it messes with your head.
Where's that other bolt? (Terminator hands it to him) Thanks.
Mom and him were only together for one night, but she still loves
him, I guess. I see her crying sometimes. She denies it
totally, of course. Like she says she got something in her eye."
They crawl out from under the truck into the bright sunlight.
Terminator: "Why do you cry?"
John: "You mean people? I don't know. We just cry. You know.
When it hurts."
Terminator: "Pain causes it?"
John: "Uh-unh, no, it's different... It's when there's nothing
wrong with you but you hurt anyway. You get it?"
Terminator: "No."
Terminator gets into the Bronco and turns the ignition key and
the engine catches with a roar.
John: "Alriiight!! My man!"
Terminator: "No problemo."
John grins and does a victorious thumbs up.
Terminator imitates the gesture awkwardly.
John laughs and makes him get out of the truck, to try the move
again.
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A108
-----------------------------------------------------------------
SARA, across the compound, pauses in her work to watch John and
Terminator.
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A109
-----------------------------------------------------------------
SARA'S POV... we don't hear what John and Terminator are saying.
It is a soundless pantomime as John is trying to show some other
gestures to the cyborg. Trying to get him to walk more casually.
John walks, then Terminator tries it, then John gestures wildly,
talking very fast... explaining the fundamental principles of
cool. They try it again. Continued ad lib as we hear:
SARA (V.O.): "Watching John with the machine, it was suddenly so
clear. The Terminator would never stop, it would never leave
him... it would always be there. And it would never hurt him,
never shout at him or get drunk and hit him, or say it couldn't
spend time with him because it was too busy. And it would die to
protect him. Of all the would-be fathers who came and went over
the years, this thing, this machine, was the only one who
measured up. In an insane world, it was the sanest choice."
Sara clenches her jaw and goes grimly back to work... a strong
woman made hard and cold by years of hard choices.
Cut to:
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A110 Ext. Road - Day
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A police cruiser is parked off the side of a quiet, empty road
on the outskirts of Los Angeles. A ribbon of traffic moves
steadily by on a freeway in the distance. Nothing stirs around
the cruiser except some pump-jacks sucking the earth on the hill
behind it.
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A111 IN THE CRUISER
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The T-1000 sits inside. John's notes and letters are spread out
on the seat beside him. Sara's voice speaks from a cassette
deck. John's tapes. Her voices mixes with the static filled
chatter of the radio that T-1000 monitors for any sign of its
target.
SARA: "... if we are ever separated, and can't make contact, go
to Enrique's airstrip. I'll rendezvous with you there."
T-1000 whips around and rewinds the tape, replaying the last
section. It then snaps up the envelope of photos we saw earlier.
ECU on envelope. We see the postmark: "Charon Mesa, Calif."
TIGHT ON T-1000 staring at the postmark on the envelope. He
glances up at the sound of crunching gravel. In the rearview he
sees a BIKE COP pulling onto the shoulder behind him. The big
KAWASAKI 1100 idles up next to the T-1000, still seated in the
cruiser.
Bike cop: "Howdy. I saw you pulled over here earlier.
Everything okay?"
T-1000: "Everything's fine. Thanks for checking."
(he gets slowly out of the car)
"Since you're here, though, can I talk to you a second..."
Cut to:
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A112 Ext. Highway - Day / Minutes later
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The T-1000 thunders along on the Kawasaki 1100, doing about a
hundred and twenty. PAN WITH IT until it recedes toward the
horizon.
Cut to:
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A113 Ext. Compound - Day (late afternoon)
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Sara sits at the picnic table. The weapons are cleaned and her
work is done. She hasn't slept in twenty four hours and she seems
to have the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. She
draws her knife from its belt sheath. Idly starts to carve
something on the table top... the letter "N".
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A114
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NOT FAR AWAY, John and Terminator are packing the Bronco for the
trip.
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A115
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ON SARA, AT THE TABLE as she looks up from her carving,
thinking. She watches Salceda's kids playing nearby...
wrestling with a mutty dog and loving it. Sara watches Yolanda
walking her toddler by the hands. Backlit, stylized. She looks
over at John. Loading guns and supplies.
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A116
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ANGLE ON kids playing.
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A117
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SARA'S HEAD droops. She closes her eyes.
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118
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TIGHT ON small children playing. Different ones. Wider now, to
reveal a playground in a park. Very idyllic. A dream
playground, crowded with laughing kids playing on swings, slides,
and a jungle gym. It could be the playground we saw melted and
frozen in the post-nuclear desolation of 2029. But here the
grass is vibrant green and the sun is shining.
<-118A->
Sara, short-haired, looking drab and paramilitary, stands
outside the playground. An outsider. Her fingers are hooked in
a chain link fence and she is staring through the fence at the
young mothers playing with their kids. A grim-faced harbinger.
<-118B->
Some girls play skip-rope. Their sing-song chant weaves through
the random burbling laughter of the kids. One of the young
mothers walks her two year old son by the hands. She is wearing
a pink waitress uniform. She turns to us, laughing. It is Sara.
Beautiful. Radiant. Sara from another life, uncontaminated by
the dark future. She glances at the strange woman beyond the
fence.
<-118C->
Grim-faced Sara presses against the fence. She starts shouting
at them in SLOW MOTION. No sound comes from her mouth. She
grabs the fence in frustration, shaking it. Screaming
soundlessly. Waitress Sara's smile falls. Then returns as her
little boy throws some sand at her. She laughs, turning away, as
if the woman at the fence were a shadow, a trick of the light.
<-118D->
Behind her the earth splits open. In a wide shot we see everyone
stop and stare as the ground heaves upward all around them. As
far as the eye can see the monstrous caps of missile silos are
hinging up, ripping up through the grass and soil. Now the
mothers are screaming, pulling their children to them... but it
is too late to run. The silo caps are open, rows of them
marching to the horizon. As if a tranquil reality has split open
to reveal another horrible reality which has always been there,
hidden beneath it.
<-118E->
Thunder shakes the earth. We see the obscene heads of the
missiles thrusting up out of the holes in the ground. Walls of
fire erupt as the fat cylinders rise like awakened monsters from
the earth.
<-118F->
Sara stares in numb horror as the tail-nozzles clear the silo
rims, and a wall of flame roars out, devouring the cowering
mothers and children. Incinerating them and rolling on, toward
her. She screams and we hear it now, shrill and terrifying,
mixing with the thunder as the flames wrap around her, blasting
her apart and she...
(What will she?! Read on in part VI!)
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