Alien Nation Page #19

DRIVER:

I swear it! If I'm lyin', I'm

dyin'...

And, without warning, A LARGE INHUMAN HAND FLIES UP IN

F.G., having ripped through the sealed body bag just below

FRAME.

CUT TO:

INT. SQUAD CAR - NIGHT

Jetson is up front with Wiltey; Sykes sits in the back,

though he is on the edge of the seat, leaning forward

toward the front. Jetson is intently, nervously scanning

ahead and to both sides.

JETSON:

You are certain this is the route

they would have taken?

WILTEY:

I'm not positive -- but probably.

SYKES:

(warily)

What's this about, George? I know

that look.

JETSON:

(spots something out

a side window)

There! Go back. Down that side

street.

Wiltey brakes, backs up, then turns into the side street.

ANGLE THROUGH WINDSHIELD

as they approach an eerie scene. The coroner's wagon is

stopped at an angle in the middle of the intersection,

headlights and roof lights cutting into the night, the

back doors wide open. A patrol car is also here, on the

other side of the wagon. There is no movement anywhere

near the two vehicles.

Wiltey pulls the car up, his eyes like saucers at the

eerie scene. He reaches for the radio hand mike. Jetson

quickly covers it with a large hand.

JETSON:

No!

(both Sykes and

Wiltey look at him)

We must do this alone.

SYKES:

Do what?! George-- ?!

Jetson is already sliding out of the car.

EXT. STREET NEAR DOCKS - NIGHT

Jetson, Sykes, and Wiltey move warily forward, their guns

drawn. They reach the van and Sykes takes Wiltey's

flashlight, shines it through the open back doors. The

doors are bent outward, smashed half off their hinges.

One of the body bags is ripped open, literally split from

end to end. The blue and red lightbar on the other patrol

car can be seen through the wagon's front windshield.

Jetson starts around the wagon toward the patrol car,

Sykes and Wiltey follow. Lights all ablaze, it too is

abandoned. One door has been wrenched off its hinges and

lays in the street, and the front windshield is smashed.

Our three cops approach the car, then Wiltey spots

something beyond the unit.

WILTEY:

Oh, God...

Sykes and Jetson look.

The bodies of the coroner wagon Driver and Attendant, as

well as the two OFFICERS from the patrol car, are crushed

and beaten and stretched out on the asphalt. Their arms

are twisted as though by a mad force -- each pointing down

the street toward the dock warehouses ahead. Wiltey

stumbles away, backward.

WILTEY:

I'm calling for back up, now.

JETSON:

Wiltey, no.

But Wiltey is going. Jetson starts after him... but Sykes

grabs his arm, hard, and spins him.

SYKES:

What is this?!

JETSON:

(low)

... It's Harcourt.

SYKES:

Harcourt is dead.

JETSON:

No he's not. Not if he overdosed on

the drug.

(searches for the

words)

Massive amounts trigger a... a

change. Your body functions seize

up, you appear to be dead, but it's

really a state of incubation. When

you emerge you're...

SYKES:

(looks at the four

bodies sprawled

before him)

Tell me about it...

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET NEAR DOCKS - NIGHT

One minute later. OPEN CLOSE on a light shining into

CAMERA, then WIDEN to reveal it is one of the door-mounted

spotlights on Wiltey's patrol car. Wiltey eases the car

down the center of the street. Sykes and Jetson, guns

ready, walk slowly along on either side of the car... eyes

everywhere.

MOVING POV:

as they move past the shadowy dock warehouses... watching

for any signs of movement.

BACK TO SCENE:

Sykes and Jetson converse across the hood of the car as

they walk. Their eyes everywhere.

SYKES:

I never thought I'd say this, but --

for once in my life I think I'm

willing to wait for back-up.

JETSON:

We can't let him get away.

SYKES:

Why the hell are you so dead set

against back-up?

JETSON:

(a difficult

admission)

Because... because of what will

happen if humans see what we are

capable of becoming.

SYKES:

But there's no more drug.

JETSON:

You understand that. But how many

others will?

Sykes looks across at Jetson's troubled expression.

Just then, Wiltey spots a flit of movement cutting across

his headlight beams fifty yards ahead. Whatever it was,

was large and fast. It darted into an open warehouse

door.

WILTEY:

There he is!

And Wiltey floors it. Sykes and Jetson watch, unable to

stop him.

JETSON:

Wiltey!

He and Sykes take off running. Wiltey skids to the left,

rockets in through the open warehouse door, out of sight.

Sykes and Jetson pour it on. They hear a SCREECH OF

BRAKES. They reach the warehouse door and race through.

INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

LOW ANGLE, SHOOTING ACROSS the underside of Wiltey's

stopped patrol car as Sykes' and Jetson's feet appear

around the corner of the warehouse door. The car is still

running -- the exhaust pipe still RUMBLING and expelling

fumes. The feet slow... then cautiously start around the

car. We PAN with them as they move around the side of the

car. A dark liquid begins dripping in EXTREME F.G. We

MOVE UP, to a CLOSE UP of the car bumper. The dark liquid

is blood, dripping deep red on the shiny chrome. We MOVE

UP farther, and--

-- there is Wiltey's severed head. IN CLOSE UP, resting

on the hood of the patrol car.

Sykes and Jetson stop dead at the sight. Wiltey's body

lies in a heap on the floor near the car. They both

stare, then Sykes looks around the shadowy interior of the

warehouse, his expression saying: what the hell could have

done this so fast?

THEIR POV:

There are two paths to go. Both dark and scary as hell.

The sound of a distant FOG HORN blends with the CREAKS and

DRIPS of this waterfront building.

ANGLE - SYKES AND JETSON

Jetson reaches into the patrol car and pulls the shotgun

from the dash mount. He checks the chamber as Sykes

checks the Casull.

They exchange a knowing look... then wordlessly, they

split up. Sykes takes the path to the left, Jetson to the

right.

WITH JETSON:

As he moves into a dark area. He slowly picks his way

along a long wall, having to step over all sorts of piled

debris, heading toward us. We PAN slightly to the left to

HOLD a door in CLOSE UP. The door, already ajar, eases

open slightly wider. Jetson hears this. He reaches the

door, sets himself, then spins and kicks the door open all

the way. There's nothing inside... now.

Jetson looks up, sees movement in the distance. It is

Sykes, quite far away, in another section of the

warehouse. Sykes leaves Jetson's field of view.

INT. WAREHOUSE - GUARD'S AREA - NIGHT

Sykes walks around a corner -- freezes, and c*cks his head

as he hears VOICES -- followed, curiously, by LAUGHTER.

He eases forward, peers around a bend, and sees -- a table

and a chair. On the table is a mini-television, tuned to

some local late night talk show. There's a thermos, a

steaming cup of coffee, and a Twinkie with a single bite

out of it beside the TV. The chair is empty, except for a

jacket slung across the back, the word SECURITY stitched

on the breast. The guard is nowhere in sight.

Sykes moves toward the table, taking in this eerie sight.

He looks around, then continues on.

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