Deep Rising Page #11

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TRILLIAN:

How the hell do we fix it?!

A tense moment as Canton debates his situation, then relents.

CANTON:

You can't... All the systems were

melted at their core by nitritic

acid...

CAPTAIN:

(confused)

This was your life's work...your

dreams...

CANTON:

My dreams cost more than they would

make...I miscalculated the market...

there was no way I could recoup...

FINNEGAN:

Unless you collected on the

insurance...

TRILLIAN:

What are you people talking about?

FINNEGAN:

He's with them.

He motions to the mercenaries.

FINNEGAN:

They rob the joint blind and torpedo

it to the bottom. He collects the

insurance, and sails off into the

sunset clean as a whistle.

Finnegan fixes Hanover with a look of certainty.

FINNEGAN:

Right?

The Captain blows. He leaps on Canton. His hands find the older man's

throat.

CAPTAIN:

All these people dead!! Because you

screwed up on the math??

Finnegan pulls the Captain off.

FINNEGAN:

It's not going to help us!

CAPTAIN:

We're going to die here! We're going

to die!

Finnegan holds the Captain with both hands, calming him.

FINNEGAN:

I was born in a City housing project

in the Bronx OK? It's not in the

cards that I die on a luxury cruise

ship...now which way up?

TRILLIAN:

(alarmed)

You hear that?

Unseen by anyone, there is MOVEMENT within the MACHINERY. The walls

start to come alive with dark, SHADOWY IMPRESSIONS.

HIDDEN within the maze of machinery, OBSCURED by the bad lighting,

glistening abominations slither over pipes, squirm through gears, and

undulate in and out of crevases and holes. The room is becoming a

living, throbbing, pulsating horror.

CAPTAIN:

They are...they are everywhere.

FINNEGAN:

All right, be cool, everybody, nice

and slow, no sudden moves.

Everybody slowly and quietly moves for the far hatch. Then a loud

GURGLING is HEARD. Everybody looks up at the ceiling.

Hidden withing the girders, and sticking to them, a large translucent

INTESTINE-like thing CROSSES the ceiling. Inside it are strange,

disgusting biological workings.

The GURGLING suddenly gets dramatically LOUDER. And then we SEE BILLY

and LEILA, being sucked down the entire length of the fatty intestine.

Still alive. And squirming wildly. EVERYBODY freaks out and HAULS ASS

for the hatch. Finnegan and Hanover OPEN FIRE. Covering their asses.

CUT TO:

89INT. ENGINE CHAMBERS - NIGHT

Everybody pours out of the machine shop and fans out into this

mechanical MAZE. The engine chambers are a labyrinth of pipe-lined

alleyways, motorized chambers, swaying catwalks and pillars of steel.

The LIGHTING is very poor, very dark.

Hanover, Pantucci, Chin and Mamooli OPEN UP. FIRING blindly and wildly

at anything and everything that seems to move in the darkness. The

MUZZLE FLASHES and TRACER FIRE light up the chambers in a sort of

surreal horror tableau.

We catch more ABSTRACT GLIMPSES of the translucent TENTACLE-SACS,

strange FEELERS, groping SUCKERS, SLIME and VEINS.

CUT TO:

90INT. DEEP IN MAZE - NIGHT

Finnegan rounds a corner and crouch-runs down a narrow alley. Alone

now. White-knuckling his rifle. He turns another corner and runs right

into Trillian.

FINNEGAN:

AHHH!!

...Spins, gun ready to fire at...

TRILLIAN:

Noooo!

FINNEGAN:

Jesus Christ lady...

TRILLIAN:

(scared)

What are those things?

FINNEGAN:

I don't know...

Finnegan looks around to the engine room, a labyrinth of pipe-lined

alleyways, motorized chambers, swaying catwalks and pillars of steel.

The LIGHTING is very poor, very dark. He takes off.

TRILLIAN:

Hey! Hey! Where are you going?

FINNEGAN:

...there's got to be a way to access

out back there...

He motions into the deep shadows.

TRILLIAN:

But what makes you think there

aren't more of those...things...back

there?

FINNEGAN:

Nothing...you want to come, come...

you don't...

Trillian weighs her options, and takes off after Finnegan.

TRILLIAN:

You don't have to be so touchy.

FINNEGAN:

Look lady, I know you people are

used to getting your way...

TRILLIAN:

What's that supposed to mean? You

people.

FINNEGAN:

You people...rich people...

TRILLIAN:

I'm not rich people.

FINNEGAN:

Well, you sure do a good imitation.

TRILLIAN:

Thank you, I work at it...

Finnegan comes to a ladderstair leading to a catwalk. He starts to

climb. Trillian, hampered by her long slinky dress, rips at the

bottom, making it maxi to mini in a flash, and scoots after Finnegan.

TRILLIAN:

I heard you say you grew up in the

projects in the Bronx...

Reaching the top of the ladder, she clambers onto the catwalk next to

Finnegan, who is deciding which way to go.

TRILLIAN:

Trillian Daley...

She holds out her hand.

TRILLIAN:

Projects...South Chicago.

Finnegan ignores her hand.

FINNEGAN:

Finnegan...John J...now that we've

been properly introduced, can we get

the hell out of here?

Finnegan starts to walk down the catwalk.

TRILLIAN:

So this boat of yours...that's what

you do? Give people...rides.

FINNEGAN:

That's what I do.

TRILLIAN:

Seen a lot of islands?

FINNEGAN:

Quite a few.

TRILLIAN:

Since I'm a kid, I had this dream...

I want to own my own tropical

island... Beaches, warm ocean, lots

of food, little clothes...population

of one...

FINNEGAN:

Anti social?

TRILLIAN:

Self sufficient...

FINNEGAN:

With the emphasis on SELF, and in

selfish, right?

TRILLIAN:

Takes one to know one.

SNAP!! A TENTACLE SHOOTS OUT between Finnegan and Trillian. Just

missing them as it SLAMS into a wall. Finnegan falls onto the catwalk,

drops his rifle, unarmed. Trillian, freaked, stumbles back and lands

on her butt. Finnegan sits up against the walls, turns and looks --

The TENTACLE slowly SQUIRMS across the wall like a big leach. Trying

to find its prey. Finnegan is frozen in place. Watching.

Trillian sits up, eyes widening in fear as she sees -- Hideous little

worm-like FEELERS and SUCKERS protrude up and down the Tentacle.

WRIGGLING and WRITHING and feeling their way across the wall. Getting

closer and closer to Finnegan. Finnegan's eyes go to his pulse-rifle

close to Trillian's feet. He motions for her to push it toward him.

But, frozen in fear, she can only watch the slithering horror before

her.

Tongue-like, the Feelers lick their way across the oily wall. FINNEGAN

DUCKS as they squirm over his head. Then he BRUSHES against some dirt,

making a SCRAPING SOUND. A Feeler quickly drops down and touches

Finnegan's arm. He leaps to his feet. So does Trillian. She grabs the

rifle, turns and bolts off down the dark alley.

Finnegan tries to run, but the Feelers hold him tight. Two more

Feelers slap onto his arm. HE YELLS. The Creature starts reeling him

in.

ANGLE ON:
Trillian, running. Finnegan's YELL reaches her. She stops

cold. Looking back the way she came, torn.

ANGLE ON:
Finnegan, fighting for all he is worth, being reeled into

the mass of machinery by the tentacle. When...out of the darkness,

Trillian suddenly comes running back. Panting hard, she aims the gun.

FINNEGAN:

Shoot it! Shoot it!

Spurred to action, Trillian jams the rifle barrel against the tentacle

and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.

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