House on Haunted Hill Page #10

WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)

-- oh, it sure ain't, sweetheart.

Heads turn:
walking slow, smug and regal down the great

staircase into the foyer is EVELYN STOCKARD-PRICE, her coat

discarded, her neckline loosened -- she realizes she's here

for the night.

EVELYN:

Take a bow, Steven, you've outdone

yourself tonight -- scared holy hell

out of even me.

BLACKBURN:

If that's the fact, Price, okay, you've

had your fun -- now open the goddamn --

PRICE:

-- asking the wrong guy -- wasn't me

who closed it.

EVELYN:

Sure it wasn't. Hey, anybody else here

make their living with thrills'n'chills

for the kiddies? Don't raise your hands

all at once.

PRICE:

Huh. And here I had a completely

different theory.

EVELYN:

Really? Well, let it rip.

PRICE:

Oh, no-no-no -- much more bang for

everyone's buck to nail the b*tch --

EVELYN:

-- the sadistic prick --

PRICE:

-- in the act.

SARA:

Uh, excuse me? Don't think I'm not

having the time of my life watching

this train wreck that's your marriage --

but this isn't what I had in mind... I

want to know that we can get out of here

if we need to.

PRITCHETT:

Believe me, we need to.

SARA:

Pritchett, this "lockdown" thing --

it's gotta have like a master control

-- you know machinery, gears, whatever --

somewhere in this place?

PRITCHETT:

The basement -- but, believe me,

you don't want to go down there.

SARA:

No, you don't want to go down there. I

am going down there. And I'm going to

find reverse on this thing and floor it.

PRITCHETT:

You'll never find it, it's a maze down

there.

SARA:

Well, that leaves you with two options

then, doesn't it: either show me where

and maybe we get out of here -- or it's

spend-the-night-sleep-tight.

Pritchett leaps to his feet.

PRITCHETT:

It's actually very easy when you

know the way.

EVELYN:

A word of advice, honey? God knows what

kind of freak-outs Steven's got set to

spring in this place. If I were you, I'd

bring something to protect yourself

with. Baby, don't you think now's the

time to I break out your "party favors?"

Price suddenly looks uneasy.

PRICE:

What are you talking about?

EVELYN:

Must be getting old, Stevie -- you're

repeating yourself -- this is the exact

same set-up you used for the Son-Of-Sam

Hunt back in '94.

(to Sara)

Girlie, open up that casket there

and see what you find.

Sara glares at her, but does as she's told: goes to the large

ebony casket that supports Evelyn's BIRTHDAY CAKE. Sara looks

back at Evelyn suspiciously... then sets the cake aside and

lifts the lid.

Inside that, seemingly free floating in space, are SIX MINI-

COFFINS -- no more than eight inches long, their doors

likewise propped open, revealing inside each a gleaming new

GLOCK 9mm AUTOMATIC. Each pistol black gunmetal in color, of

course.

EVELYN:

Ooooh, nice:
firearms this time.

MELISSA:

The warped factor here just gets

bigger and bigger.

EVELYN:

Steven's sense of humor just makes you

want to bust a gut, don't it?

SARA:

I'm in stitches.

Sara takes one of the guns and attempts to eject the

magazine. Nothing happens. She looks:

SARA:

The clip's been welded shut.

EVELYN:

On all of them, probably.

Evelyn takes one of the pistols and points it at her husband.

EVELYN:

So how's a girl to know if these

things are loaded, baby?

PRICE:

Only one way I can think of, Sweetheart.

Tense beat, ala Eastwood and Hackman staring each other down

at the end of "Unforgiven." Then Evelyn lowers the gun.

EVELYN:

No. I think we'll let the young

lady have first crack.

SARA:

I don't want a gun, I just want

out. Let's go, for God's sake.

PRICE:

I'll meet you down there.

EDDIE:

(to Sara)

Take the gun.

Sara takes the pistol from Evelyn, and Pritchett

unenthusiastically beckons Eddie and Sara towards a hallway

leading to the basement. Price trots towards another door off

the Salon.

EVELYN:

And where are we off to, Mr. Price?

Check the wiring on the animatronic

Mummies?

PRICE:

A simple leak, if it's okay with you.

And he disappears down the hall. Melissa Marr jams a

cigarette in her mouth.

MELISSA:

Wow...

She flicks her lighter, sparking a flame to life --

SMASH TO:

INT. BASEMENT STAIRWAY - JUST AFTER

-- a flurry of crackling SPARKS showers Watson Pritchett as

he twists the '20's vintage knob light switch. He leaps back

with a frightened yelp.

We see a brief BURST OF LIGHT from the ancient sconces on the

walls, revealing a series of moldy, cobwebbed and rubble-

strewn basement gallery, and a series of five glass cases

filled with the mummified remains of human bodies... One very

odd human figure rides upon a mummified horse.

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