The Abyss Page #14

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BUD:

Nice shot, Lins.

SONNY:

What is that? You drop your dive light?

WIDER, SHOWING THE GROUP huddled around Lindsey who has her freshly-processed

slide roll laid out on the pinball machine, using it as a light table.

LINDSEY:

Come on, you guys... look, this is the little

one right here. You can see how it's kind of

zigging around.

BUD:

If you say so. It could be anything.

LINDSEY:

I'm telling you what is there. You're just not

hearing. The impulses somehow aren't getting

from you ears to your brainpan. There's something

down there. Something not... us.

She looks around. Sees a lot of skepticism in the eyes around her.

CATFISH:

Y'all could be more specific.

LINDSEY:

Not us. Not human. Get it? Something non-

human, but intelligent...

HIPPY:

You mean like Coffey?

Lindsey is reddening. Despite her conviction, this is really hard.

LINDSEY:

A non-terrestrial intelligence.

HIPPY:

Non-Terrestrial Intelligence. NTIs. Yeah, I

like that better then UFOs. Although that

works too... Underwater Flying Objects.

Hippy is not really mocking her. He's actually into it. But it has that

effect. Catfish is eyeing Lindsey like he's never seen her before.

CATFISH:

Are we talkin' little space friend here?

HIPPY:

Right on! Hot rods of the Gods. Right, Lins?

Hey, no really! It could be NTIs. The CIA has

known about them for years. They abduct people

all the time. There was this woman I knew in

Albuquerque who--

LINDSEY:

Hippy, do me a favor... stay off my side.

Bud takes her firmly by the arm. Heads her out into the corridor.

BUD:

Lindsey, will you step into my office for a

minute...

INT. CORRIDOR/LADDER WELL 130

He propels her along the corridor, away from the mess hall doorway. They

face each other in the narrow space.

BUD:

Jesus, Lindsey--

LINDSEY:

Bud, something really important is happening

here.

BUD:

Look. I'm just trying to hold this situation

together. I can't allow you to cause this kind

of hysteria--

LINDSEY:

Who's hysterical? Nobody's hysterical!

They're talking across each other, not connecting. Bud weary and frustrated.

Lindsey is cranked up with the afterglow of her encounter.

BUD:

All I'm saying is when you're hanging on by your

fingernails, you don't go waving you arms around.

LINDSEY:

I saw something! I'm not going to go back there

and say I didn't see it when I did. I'm sorry.

BUD:

God, you are the most stubborn woman I ever knew.

LINDSEY:

I need you to believe me, Bud. Look at me. Do

I seem stressed out? Any of the symptoms of

pressure sickness, any tremors, slurred speech?

BUD:

No.

LINDSEY:

Bud, this is me, Lindsey. Okay? You know me

better than anybody in the world. Now watch my

lips... I saw these things. I touched one of

them. And it wasn't some clunky steel can like

we would build... it glided. It was the most

beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Bud is stilled by her intensity. She moves close to him. Eyes alive and

luminous.

LINDSEY:

It was a machine, but it seems almost alive.

Like a... dance of light. Bud, you have to

trust me... please. I don't think they mean us

harm. I don't know how I know that, it's just a

feeling.

BUD:

How can I go on a feeling? You think Coffey's

going to go on you 'feeling'?

LINDSEY:

We all see what we want to see... Coffey looks

and he sees Russians, he sees hate and fear.

Bud, you have to look with better eyes than

that.

Bud has been taking this all in. His eyes tracking her face. He closes his

eyes, taking a deep breath. It's so hard for him to do this, but...

BUD:

I can't, Lindsey. I'm sorry. How can I?

CUT TO:

INT. MESS HALL -- LATER 131

Coffey has Bud, Lindsey and several of the rig crew gathered for a little

summit. Lindsey is withdrawn, sitting far from the others, a self-imposed

exile. They're all wearing warm clothes and hugging themselves. Their

breath shows in the air.

COFFEY:

I want 'round-the-clock manning of the sonar

shack and the exterior cameras. We need early

warning if the Soviet craft try another incursion.

LINDSEY:

(rolling her eyes)

Gimme a break! Coffey, these things live three

and a half miles down on the bottom of an abyssal

trench! Trust me... they're not speaking

Russian.

Coffey looks at her for a moment, then goes on as if she hadn't spoke.

COFFEY:

(to One Night)

Why haven't you finished repairs on the

hydrophone transmitter yet?

ONE NIGHT:

I was having my nails done.

Coffey is sweating, despite the chill. Keeps his hands clenched in fists so

they won't see how bad the tremors have gotten.

COFFEY:

Get something straight. You people are under my

authority--

CATFISH:

Look, podner... we don't work for you, we don't

take orders from you, and we don't much like you.

In addition to which your momma dresses you

funny.

Coffey's eyes are straight razors. He slashes them from face to face. You

can see him tightening up like a clockspring, losing control of the situation

in front of his own men. Bud defuses it.

BUD:

'Fish'?

CATFISH:

Yuh?

BUD:

Take the first watch in sonar. Hippy, you

handle the exterior surveillance. One Night, see

if you can get that transmitter working for me,

okay?

ONE NIGHT:

Gimme a couple of hours.

HOLD ON COFFEY as everyone leaves. Winding tighter.

CUT TO:

INT. MAINTENANCE ROOM B -- LATER132

Coffey and Schoenick are bending over the warhead. They have a small port

removed and are attaching waterproof leads from an ELECTRONIC DETONATOR. The

black box Lindsey glimpsed earlier. As the two SEALs work like surgeons, we

see past Coffey's shoulder to a hemispherical window behind him, which looks

out into the perpetual blackness. Something appears... a goofy shark face.

Big Geek rises silently in front of the port. It moves a little, trying to

get a peek over Coffey's shoulder.

INT. CONTROL MODULE/ROV SHACK 133

Hippy is twiddling his joysticks, watching the screen like a ferret.

HIPPY:

Come on... move to the left... just a little

more... come on, A.J. Squared Away... that's

it--

ON THE SCREEN, Geek's POV. Coffey is blocking Hippy's view of whatever it is

they're working on. Abruptly, be moves. The warhead is lying there in plain

sight, detonator wires hooked up. Hippy's eyes bug out. He knows exactly

what it is.

HIPPY:

Pretty radical, guys. Pretty radical.

He hurries to the VCR and puts it into RECORD.

INT. CONTROL MODULE/ROV SHACK -- MINUTES LATER 134

Video image of the SEALs working. It FREEZES on a clear view of the warhead.

HIPPY (V.O.)

Say hello to MIRV.

Bud has his face right up to screen. He frowns, skeptical.

HIPPY:

Come on, man. What else could it be?

BUD:

Why bring it here?

HIPPY:

It's gotta be, like, an emergency plan to keep

it away from the Russians... Hotwire one of the

nukes with some kinda detonator, put it back in

the sub, and fry the whole thing, slicker'n snot.

Oh, uh... hi, Lins.

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