Pitch Black Page #11

JOHNS:

Very big beads.

PARIS:

Not staying in here another....

He goes for the main-door lever, ready to flee into the night.

Fry lunges for him.

FRY:

Christ, you don't know what's out there!

PARIS:

I know what's in here!

IMAM:

Everybody come, this way and we should be

safe. Hurry, please....

INT. FIRST CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

Imam shepherds them into a container. The door slams closed.

At first, only the sound of MOUTHS SUCKING BREATHERS. Then a

SCRATCHING.

Johns fumbles with a cutting torch. Gets it burning. Adjusts

the gasses to illuminate...

The door. Scythe-like blades are probing joints. Suddenly HEAVY

BLOWS drive everyone back.

RIDDICK:

(to Johns)

Can you do sumpin' else with that?

'Sides holding it in my f***ing face?

Taking the hint, Johns starts cutting the common wall between

containers. It's a race between the sparks of his cutter and the

blades of the predators.

INT. SECOND CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

An burn-outline appears in the common wall. Johns kicks out the

escape hatch. Audrey speed-crawls through first as...

INT. FIRST CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

Predators shred into the container right behind them, CLICKING,

sweeping, hunting.

INT. THIRD/FOURTH CONTAINERS - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

SERIES OF SHOTS:
Again and again, they burn a new escape hatch

just as the predators break into the container being vacated,

always entering darkness.

INT. FIFTH CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

Inside their fifth container now, Johns torches away. Fry and

Paris use cargo to block the entrance hole -- then block the

cargo with their bodies.

Riddick adds his weight -- until he notices pepper-shot in the

cargo. Suspecting the worst, he leaves the others behind...

PARIS:

Hello, hello?

...and moves to the front of the container where darkness

prevails. Something SQUISHES underfoot. He slips off goggles.

RIDDICK'S POV:
Of dead hatchlings on the floor. This is the

open container, the one where Johns found predators.

Sensing energy, Riddick lifts his face.

RIDDICK'S POV:
Of an adolescent predator. It squats atop cargo,

eating a hatchling. A heavy bone-blade crowns its skull.

Sensing Riddick, it sweeps the area with INQUISITIVE CLICKS.

PREDATOR POV:
Of Riddick.

(NOTE:
The PREDATOR POV is a crude image that gives impression

without detail. We're "seeing" what the predator hears with

echo-location. Think of a sonagram that strobes and wraps its

subject in 3-D space.)

Oblivious, the others kick out the new escape hatch. Audrey,

Fry, and Johns worm through. Imam and Pilgrim #2 hang back.

"Where's Riddick?"

He's in a stare-down with a predator.

Searching, Pilgrim #2 rounds a corner -- and finds his head

caught in a vice-like grip.

RIDDICK:

Don't. Move.

RIDDICK'S POV:
As a second predator appears above them. This

one reaches down with its scythe blade...

And gently probes the two men. It wants know what they're made

of.

CLOSE on the pilgrim's shoes. Over-running with piss.

More blades descend, moving over them like surgical instruments.

One test-slices Riddick's shirt.

INT. SIXTH CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

In the next container, Fry waits anxiously. Hissing through the

escape hatch:

FRY:

Imam? Where are they?

INT. FIFTH CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

CLOSE on a predator's scythe blade. It test-slices the pilgrim's

skin. Blood wells up. All CLICKING CEASES.

IMAM (O.S.)

Hasan?

FRY (O.S.)

Riddick?

TIGHT on the pilgrim -- more scared now that the clicking has

stopped. Losing his nerve, he bolts.

RIDDICK:

No....

The predators are on him, just blurs in the dark. DEATH-SCREAM.

RIDDICK'S POV:
A third predator appears above him.

Making his move, Riddick darts around cargo and heads for the

escape hatch as...

Fry's light catches him square in the face. Blinded, Riddick

HOWLS and stumbles forward. Fry's light leaps deeper to hit...

The predator right behind him. With a similar reaction, the

beast HOWLS and flails back.

HOLD on Fry for a time-stopped moment. What stopped it? Was it

really her? Suddenly a SHOTGUN EXPLODES beside her head. Jacked

up, Johns is BLASTING shadows.

FRY:

Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!

JOHNS:

'Sokay, 'sokay. I killed it.

They give him a look. "Sure you did." Suddenly a CARCASS SLAMS

to the floor, sending everyone jumping back in a perfect splash-

pattern. "Christ, he did kill one."

Fry reclaims her dropped light and beams it on the carcass.

Wherever the light strikes it, the flesh chars and steams.

FRY:

There....

PARIS:

Like the light is scalding it.

FRY:

It hurts them. Light actually hurts

them....

VULTURE SOUNDS from the two O.S. adolescents, fighting over the

scraps of the pilgrim.

IMAM:

Is that...Hasan?

Riddick nods.

JOHNS:

We'll burn a candle for him later. C'mon.

INT. SIXTH CONTAINER - CARGO HOLD - NIGHT

Cargo has been shoved against the door and walls. The survivors

gather around Fry's handlight. Audrey -- tough little Audrey --

has been reduced to a shivering lump of mush.

FRY:

...one cutting torch...one handlight here,

two more in the cabin...I think two

more....

PARIS:

Spirits. Anything over 45 proof burns

well.

FRY:

How many bottles?

PARIS:

Not sure. Ten?

FRY:

Those umbrellas, the ones that mist.

Would they burn?

(reading his face)

If you got a receipt?

PARIS:

Possibly.

FRY:

Awright. So maybe we'll have enough light.

JOHNS:

Enough for what?

Now she challenges him to be the mind-reader.

JOHNS (CONT'D)

Oh, lady. If you're in your right mind,

I pray you go insane.

FRY:

(to others)

We can stick to the plan. If we get four

cells back to the skiff, we're off this

rock.

PARIS:

I hate to kill a beautiful theory with an

ugly fact, but that sand-cat won't run at

night.

FRY:

We'll have to carry the cells...drag

them...whatever it takes.

Troubled faces. Is it just our imagination? Or is the light on

the floor growing dimmer?

AUDREY:

You mean...tonight? With all those things

still out there?

PARIS:

Oh, sure. Why not? Sounds like a hoot.

JOHNS:

Back it up. How long can this last? Few

minutes? Couple hours?

No one knows for sure.

IMAM:

I had the impression...from the model...

that the two planets were moving as one.

That there would be...a lasting darkness.

JOHNS:

Those suns gotta come back sometime. And

if these animals really are phobic about

light, we just sit tight till then.

FRY:

I'm sure that's what someone else said.

Locked inside that coring room.

A persuasive thought. Eyes swing back to Audrey.

JOHNS:

Look, we gotta think about everyone now --

the kid especially. How scared is she

gonna be out there?

FRY:

Oh, don't use her like that, for a smoke

screen.

JOHNS:

Smoke screen for what?

FRY:

For your own fear.

JOHNS:

(eyes narrowing)

Hey. Why don't you rag your hole for two

seconds and let someone else come up with

a plan that doesn't involve MASS SUICIDE?

Two seconds pass.

FRY:

How much you weigh, Johns?

JOHNS:

What the hell's it matter?

FRY:

How much?

JOHNS:

79 kilos.

FRY:

Because you're 79 kilos of gutless white

meat, and that's why you can't come up

with a better plan.

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