The Abyss Page #15

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Bud whips around. Lindsey, standing quietly in the doorway. It's apparent

from expression she's been watching them for some time. She looks ready to

kill somebody. Then she's gone.

INT. CORRIDOR 135

Bud catches up to her in the corridor, trying to put the brakes on her.

LINDSEY:

Look, goddamnit, if you won't do something about

it, I will.

BUD:

Lindsey! Wait a second--

She reaches the watertight door to Maintenance Room B. It's locked. Before

Bud can stop her she grabs a fire-extinguisher off the wall and pounds on

the steel door like a big gong. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Needless to say, it opens. She pushes past Schoenick, see the bomb lying

there naked.

LINDSEY:

You've got some huevos bringing this...

thing... into my rig! With everything that's

been going on up in the world, you bring a

nuclear weapon in here? Does this strike anyone

as particularly psychotic, or is it just me?

COFFEY:

You don't need to know the details of this

mission... you're better off if you don't.

LINDSEY:

You're right... I don't. I just need to know

that this thing is out of here! You hear me,

Roger Ramjet?

COFFEY:

Mrs. Brigman, you're becoming a serious impediment

to this mission. I believe the stress is

affecting you.

(to Schoenick)

Escort her to quarters and have Monk prepare a

tranquilizer.

Schoenick takes her arm in a tight grip.

LINDSEY:

Bullshit, you can't do that. Oww... goddamnit!

Lindsey goes bananas, trying to get Schoenick's big hands off her arms. Bud

slams his hand down on the intercom button.

BUD:

Emergency! Maintenance room B. Emergency!

He pulls the fire alarm for good measure and spins on Coffey... warning him

with a look that is not to be messed with. Coffey is braced back against the

worktable... an odd stance, with one arm behind his back. Suddenly there's

a crowd outside the door as Catfish, Hippy, One Night, and Sonny come running

up. Confrontation time.

Sirens going. About a million volts of electricity in the air. Bud braces

Schoenick.

BUD:

Let her go. Do it... right now.

He does. Lindsey jerks away. Rubs her arms.

LINDSEY:

You dumb jarhead motherf--

BUD:

Chill out, Lindsey!!

CATFISH:

What's the problem?

Everyone is frozen in place. Bud a Coffey... snake and mongoose, glaring.

Bud pulls Lindsey back into the corridor.

BUD:

Nothing. We were just leaving.

(to her)

Weren't we?

ANGLE FROM BEHIND COFFEY, as Bud's group moves out of sight up the corridor.

Hands behind his back. In his hand, cocked, finger on the trigger, is the

.45. He turns and sets it on the table, steadying himself as if in the wind.

he seems to sag. When he looks at Schoenick, his eyes are wounds. A hunted

animal. Voice shaky.

COFFEY:

They can't be trusted. They're turning against

us. We may have to take... steps.

INT. CORRIDOR 136

Lindsey, Bud, Hippy. Bud slows, letting them trail behind the others.

BUD:

Lins, stay away from that guy. I mean it.

HIPPY:

Yeah. The dude's in bad shape... you see his

hands?

LINDSEY:

He's got the shakes?

BUD:

Look, the guy's operating on his own, cut off

from chain of command. He's exhibiting symptoms

of pressure-induced psychosis. And he's got a

nuclear weapon. So, as a personal favor to me...

will you put your tongue in neutral for a while?

HIPPY:

Man, I give this a sphincter-factor of about

nine point five.

INT. MAINTENANCE ROOM B 137

Coffey goes to the dome port. Looks past his shrunken and twisted reflection

into the void. Eternal night.

ANGLE FROM OUTSIDE. Coffey's face in the window. Stuck to the acrylic

bubble beside him is one of those Garfields, suction cups on its paws. Coffey

stares out. Behind his eyes, his brain is like that cat, just hanging on,

spreadeagle and screaming.

CUT TO:

INT. SUB-BAY/DIVE-PREP AREA138

Under a single worklight, a couple of conspirators. Lindsey and Hippy hunch

over Big Geek. The ROV grins maniacally with goofy shark teeth.

LINDSEY:

Look, you can just punch into his little chip

where you want him to go, and he goes, right?

HIPPY:

Well, yeah, but the tether off it ain't gonna

be fancy. When he gets down there he'll just

sit, like a dumb-sh*t. Unless something wanders

through view of the camera, you'll get nada.

LINDSEY:

Let's go for it. We could get lucky.

INT. CONTROL MODULE 139

ONE SURVEILLANCE MONITOR. Lindsey and Hippy next to Big Geek. Their voices

are tinny but intelligible.

HIPPY (V.O.)

I don't know. I really oughta talk to Bud about

this.

E.C.U. COFFEY. Watching them in the dark. Alone.

LINDSEY (V.O.)

No. Just you and me. We get some proof, then

tell them. Hippy, look... if was can prove to

Coffey it's not Russians, maybe he'll ease off

the button a little.

HIPPY (V.O.)

I gotta tell you, that guy scares me a lot more

than whatever's down there. A.J. Squared Away

goddamn jarhead robot. Okay, gimme a couple

hours on this.

Coffey watches, his jaw clenched.

INT. QUARTERS/MESS HALL 140

The lights are down. Those who can are grabbing some sleep. Snoring comes

from one of the bunkrooms as Lindsey passes. In the mess hall, Catfish and

Bud are crashed out on the tables, wrapped in blankets. The cold has gotten

intense. Water drips. The walls sweat with condensation. Lindsey can see

her breath as she makes coffee. She carries a cup over to Monk, who is a

face in a pile of blankets. A hand comes out, takes the coffee.

MONK:

Thanks.

Lindsey sips hers, staring. Her thoughts are far away... in the bottomless

pit. She is leaning up against the table where Bud is sleeping. His soft

snoring downshifts into a loud rasp. Lindsey touches him gently on the

shoulder.

LINDSEY:

Virgil, turn on your side.

Bud grunts and turns without waking, an automatic response. The snoring

stops. It is a quiet, intimate moment, a reminder of the mileage these two

have logged together.

CUT TO:

INT. SONAR SHACK 141

Sonny has made himself comfortable in front of the screens. Too comfortable.

He's asleep, chin on his chest. On the main passive-sonar screen, an almost

imperceptibly faint trace appears. A HUM, which is by now familiar, becomes

audible. Sonny shifts in his seat. Doesn't wake.

INT. SUB BAY142

Hippy puts his tools away, finished with the modifications to Big Geek.

HIPPY:

All set, big guy. Hey, I told you to wipe that

grin off your face.

He yawns as he shambles across the chamber to the corridor door. Switches off

the lights. Goes out.

Quiet lapping of water in the moonpool. A beat. Then...

A cold luminosity suffuses the water beneath the moonpool opening, sending

shadows shifting across the top of the chamber. The surface begins to

pulsate.

Suddenly, the water itself rises, forming itself into a shifting, shimmering

pseudopod as big around as a man's body. The transparent form pulses... an

amoebic mass shivering in the air.

It stretches, becoming a more refined form. Like a blindly probing glass

python, it elongates and weaves across the room. It extends and extends,

stretching out from the moonpool, a shimmering tentacle. The 'head' or tip,

a featureless liquid bulb, seems somehow to be scanning as it moves forward,

as if it can see where it's going.

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