Pitch Black Page #2

INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN

IMPACT. Chairs rip from their moorings. Strapped into one,

Owens slams into the ceiling.

INT. MAIN CABIN - DAY

IMPACT. Johns BLOWS OUT of his locker -- and wishes to God he

would've stayed inside, because just beside him...

The hull is cracking open.

NIGHTMARE SHOT:
A huge section of the cabin tears free...

skitters and CRASHES along the planetfloor behind us...and

disintegrates out of sight. 40 cryo-lockers vanished with it.

40 lives.

INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

Hammered by WIND, Fry opens her eyes experimentally.

FRY'S POV:
A vortex of motion, of speed, of blurring debris.

But the ship is burrowing in. Burrowing under.

Fry pivots her chair 180 degrees a nanosecond before...

Dirt avalanches into the cockpit. It buries CAMERA.

BLACKOUT:

INT. MAIN CABIN - CRASH SHIP - DAY

Choking yellow dust. Ghostly silhouettes are COUGHING, MOANING,

CALLING OUT to other survivors in English and, surreally, in

Arabic. Soon we find...

Johns. Ears running blood. Stumbling his way to...

Riddick's cryo-locker. Empty. Johns reaches for his holster.

Gone, torn right off his belt. No prisoner and no weapon --

spooky combination. Nearby he sees...

The light of a cutting torch. Someone's using it to open a

jammed cryo-locker. The plexi is torched away to reveal...

AUDREY, 12 years old. Unscathed.

AUDREY:

Somethin' went wrong, huh?

Johns searches for his pistol. Behind him, two chained feet

lower into FRAME -- and then attack, swinging over Johns' head...

getting the chain on his neck...twisting hard, using the chain as

a choke-collar. Johns flicks open a baton, swings it up at...

Riddick. Still in body chains and mouth-bit. Clinging to a

ceiling support. Riding out the baton blows.

Seconds from blacking out, Johns strains forward...forward...and

finally breaks Riddick's grip on the support. He keeps hold of

the chained feet so that...

Riddick SLAMS HEADFIRST into the deck. Johns lays the baton on

his neck.

JOHNS:

One chance and you blew it, Riddick.

Never cease to disappoint me.

INT. FLIGHT DECK - CRASH SHIP - DAY

Darkness. A light beam sweeps the dusty air of the cockpit.

It's packed with dirt, no signs of life. About to search

elsewhere, Johns turns back at...

FRY (O.S.)

Hey.

JOHNS:

Hey, who?

FRY (O.S.)

Hey, me. Over here.

His light finds a headrest sticking up from the dirt. Johns

crawls closer, checks the other side of the headrest and finds

her. Fry. Buried to the gills.

JOHNS:

Amazing. I'm Johns.

FRY:

Carolyn Fry. I'd shake hands, but...

He manages a smile and starts digging her out. Almost dreading

to ask:

FRY:

Are there any others, Johns?

INT. MAIN CABIN - CRASH SHIP - DAY

Johns helps Fry through the carnage. She's stunned by it all --

but especially by the blast of sunlight where a hull used to be.

Realizing she's in nav-bay, Fry starts digging like a search dog

to uncover...

Owens. Still strapped to his chair. Metal rod piercing his

chest close to the heart. Dead. Fry reaches out to touch him.

OWENS:

Out, out, out, GET IT OUTTA ME!

She recoils hard. He's still alive. The other survivors bungle

over. Ten seconds of pure chaos:

VOICES:

Pull it out of him...No, it's too close to

the heart...You gotta do it, just do it

fast....

Fry grabs the rod.

OWENS:

Don't touch it! Don't touch that switch!

VOICES:

You'll kill him, I'm tellin' you, sh*t,

just leave it alone...delirious...doncha

you got some drugs for this poor man....

OWENS:

Don't touch that switch!

FRY:

Awright, awright, someone...there's

Anestaphine in the med-lock, that end of

the cabin...next to....

But there is no more "that end." In exquisite pain, Owens

screams on. REACTION SHOTS of Johns, Audrey. Seldom are human

beings witness to such raw suffering.

FRY:

Get away. Everybody.

The others leave -- except for Audrey, staying behind to watch

in morbid fascination. Johns doubles back and collars her.

Leaving, they pass...

Riddick, cuffed to a bulkhead. His eyes, still hidden by

goggles, track Johns and Audrey toward daylight.

EXT. CRASH SHIP - DAY

The survivors straggle outside. CAMERA SURVEYS new faces:

ZEKE and SHAZZA. Male-female team of bushwhackers, partners in

life. Shazza has a tough sexiness. Zeke's face shows aboriginal

blood. (30s.)

PARIS. Overfed, overgroomed. A puff pastry of a man. (40s or

50s.)

Four male "Chrislams": The pillar-steady IMAM (50ish), and

THREE PILGRIMS, young and excitable (late-teens). (NOTE: The

Chrislams represent a union between Christianity and Islam. They

have the iconography of Christians yet the physical look of Arab

Muslims.)

WIDE SHOT:
All around them is stark and unforgiving terrain.

The valley floor is relieved only by low hills to one side,

spiked with earthen spires. Scorching down on everything are

two suns -- one red, one yellow.

PARIS:

Well. Our own little slice of heaven.

The Chrislams fall to their knees. Confusion as they try to

orient themselves.

IMAM:

Please...which way to New Mecca? We must

know the direction in order to pray.

North? South? East? West? Nobody knows. Johns snaps open a

compass, finds the needle swaying rudderlessly. The SCREAMING

inside the ship finally ends.

INT. CRASH SHIP - DAY

As Fry holds Owens, now dead.

EXT. CRASH SHIP - DAY

The four Chrislams have devised a way to pray: Backs together,

each faces a different compass point.

EXT. TOP OF CRASH SHIP - DAY

Fry climbs onto the back of the ship. Johns Paris, Zeke, Shazza,

Audrey are already here.

JOHNS:

Big talk about a scouting party...

Fry sees the huge smoldering scar in the ground behind the ship.

One glance confirms that there are no other survivors.

JOHNS (CONT'D)

...then we saw this.

PARIS:

Anyone else having breathing problems?

Aside from me?

AUDREY:

Like I just ran, or something....

SHAZZA:

Feel one lung short. All of us.

PARIS:

Well, I tend toward the asthmatic. And

with all this dust....

Faces turn to Fry: They're looking to her for answers.

FRY:

It's the atmosphere. Too much pressure,

not enough oxygen. Might take a few days

to --

ZEKE:

So what the bloody hell happened, anyways?

FRY:

Somethin' knocked us off-lane. Maybe a

rogue comet. Maybe we'll never know.

SHAZZA:

Well, I for one, am thoroughly f***ing

grateful. This beast wasn't made to land

like this. But cripes, you rode it down.

(to others)

C'mon, you lousy ingrates, only reason

we're alive is a'cuzza her.

Others CHIME AGREEMENT, laying thankful hands on Fry's shoulders.

HOLD on Fry, her face betraying nothing as they anoint her their

savior.

INT. MAIN CABIN - CRASH SHIP - DAY

Breaking out pressure suits:

FRY:

Liquid oxygen canisters inside. Start

ripping them out. Quick hits only -- try

to make it last.

AUDREY:

Well, is someone coming for us? Or are

we all just gonna die of exposure or

dehydration or sunstroke or maybe even

something worse?

(off their looks)

Hey, you don't have to worry about scaring

me.

SHAZZA:

We're worried you'll scare us.

(ushering her away)

Name's "Audrey," right, love? And you're

goin' to Taurus Three like we were?

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