Leviathan Page #22

WILLIE:

Well, at least we're safe inside

here.

JONES:

For how long?

Beck slides behind the Console and quickly types in a

message. WE SEE IT ON THE SCREEN. "SHACK SIX REPORTING.

PLEASE DISREGARD PREVIOUS MESSAGE---"

SUDDENLY MARTIN'S FACE APPEARS ON THE VIDEO SCREEN.

MARTIN:

Thank goodness, you're still

alive!

JONES:

(yells nervously

at the screen)

Hey, man, you better get

your ass out here right now

and get us. You hear me,

motherf***er? Right now!

Martin smiles calmly back at the three of them.

MARTIN:

Please relax, Mr. Jones. Every-

thing is under control. Naturally,

when we received Dr. Warren's

message we were concerned but

would never have deserted you.

Jones lets out a breath. Willie stares straight at the

screen.

WILLIE:

When are you coming for us?

MARTIN:

(smiles nervously)

Well, that's the bad news.

The typhoon did turn your way.

(he looks at weather

printout)

Right now it is on a course--

JONES:

Just answer the question, man!

When are you coming?!

MARTIN:

(beat)

Hopefully in the next 48 hours.

BECK:

Forty-eight hours!

MARTIN:

I realize you must have gone

through hell--

JONES:

Gone? Man, we're still here!

MARTIN:

(firmly)

I can't change the weather.

Try to get some rest. I'll

keep you posted.

He turns off his screen and the picture in front of Beck,

Jones and Willie goes blank.

BECK:

He's right. Why don't you get some

rest. I'll stand the first watch.

TIME CUT TO:

CONTROL ROOM - LATER

Jones sits near the vent sound asleep, his weapon across

his stomach. Near him Willie lies still, eyes open. She

watches Beck across the room, standing at the window.

He stares outside into the darkness for a moment, then

as if a thought suddenly occurs to him he looks at the

blank computer screen.

CLOSE ON COMPUTER SCREEN

"Request weather summaries January 14-21." The cursor

blinks back ominously then races across the screen. "FILE

CLOSED."

BECK:

(to himself)

Martin, you a**hole...

Suddenly he hears a voice behind him.

WILLIE:

They know, don't they?

BECK:

(quietly)

Yeah...I think they're just

deciding what to do with us.

WILLIE:

Maybe they already have.

She moves into Doc's seat in front of the console and calls

up the stock market program that Bowman was monitoring

earlier.

ON SCREEN WE SEE: Stock prices.

Willie types in a series of commands.

BECK:

What are you doing?

WILLIE:

Seeing how my stock's doing...

ON SCREEN:
The words TransOcean Corp. The capsulized report

comes up on screen: "TransOcean Corp. took a bath on world

markets today when news of a tragic mining accident was

revealed to investors. The Board of Directors...."

WILLIE:

(impatiently)

Where?....

She scrolls forward in the report and suddenly freezes the

words.

THE SCREEN:
"...accident took place in Shack Six, Southeast

Sector of Pacific Zone 10...Seven dead. All bodies

missing." Their names follow.

ON WILLIE as her name comes up she shivers.

BECK:

I can't believe they'd

just leave us.

A voice behind them causes them to turn.

JONES:

Welcome to the union, boss.

We're all expendable.

He is now awake. He sits up against the air vent. Suddenly,

Beck listens, the room is deathly silent. He looks over to

the air vent. Jones is listening also.

WILLIE:

What is it?

JONES:

The air's stopped.

WHOOP! WHOOP! Suddenly a KLAXON HORN sounds hysterically.

A blue light on the console blinks on and off. It says

"AIR." Beck turns to the instruments.

BECK:

We're on backup air.

WILLIE:

How much time does that give

us?

BECK:

Less than an hour. It's ruptured

an air duct.

WILLIE:

Can't we fix it?

JONES:

There're twenty miles of

pipe in the bilge, they

could have tapped-in anywhere.

SUDDENLY WE HEAR A SOUND WE HAVEN'T HEARD IN A LONG TIME.

The RATTLE THAT JONES AND COBB FIXED. Jones and Beck home

in on the tell-tale noise.

JONES:

(almost to himself)

Cobb...Job security...

He locks eyes with Beck.

BECK:

They're drawing us out.

He leaves his seat and Jones checks his weapon as Willie

watches.

WILLIE:

You can't go out there, that's

what they want.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes