The Abyss Page #27

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Six towers... plus one larger, in the center. Rising.

One the Explorer's deck, a shadow engulfs them as the nearest spire blocks out

the sun. The air, the sea, the deck... all vibrate with the THUNDER OF

CREATION.

And now for the payoff shot: WE'RE HIGH, LOOKING DOWN. THE SPIRES FORM A

PERFECT RING A MILE ACROSS. A VAST DARK FORM, LIKE A GREAT SHADOW, RISES FROM

THE DEPTHS BENEATH THE SHIPS. THE SPIRES ARE CONNECTED. IT IS ALL ONE.

THE NTI ARK.

It surfaces with slow majesty, gently beaching all the ships on its broad

back. We recognize it as the structure into which Bud was led by the angelic

being, which we assumed was a city. The Explorer rocks gently on its flat

hull, clunking massively to one side as it settles.

The bridge crew watch millions of tons of seawater streaming off the back of

the vast, slightly curved hull. The missile cruiser rocks back and forth

nearby, high and dry... its prop whining futility.

ON EXPLORER'S DECK, McBride, Bendix, DeMarco, the rest of the Navy

contingent... they're all standing there open-mouthed, in a dream-like daze.

Touched by the hand of God.

BENDIX:

Look...

WHAT THEY SEE -- Fifty yards away, between them and the Albany, sits Deepcore

Two. It looks like a particularly ugly and unwanted toy, sitting on the

glistening plain of the NTI Ark's hull.

CLOSER, ON TRIMODULE C, as the hatch at the bottom opens.

Catfish's feet appear, bicycling. He swings down to the pearlescent 'deck'.

Stands there blinking in the sunlight, mole-like. Jammer plonks down behind

him. He turns, lifts Lindsey down. Hippy, Sonny, and the rest, emerge into

the light of the sun. A deliverance from the blackest night they will ever

know.

LINDSEY:

We should be dead. We didn't decompress.

CATFISH:

Out blood oughta be fizzin' like a warm, shook-

up Coke.

HIPPY:

They must've done something to us.

Lindsey has tears streaming down her cheeks... for the sun, for life, for

their deliverance and the larger one she knows has happened, an epiphany for

the whole human race.

LINDSEY:

Oh, yes. I think you could say that.

She blinks. Seeing something not far away. She gives a little laugh, or

something between laughing and crying.

REVERSE, as Bud walks up the curving incline of one of the mouth-like

enterances to the NTI structure. His suit is casually unzipped and the FBS

helmet dangles from one hand jauntily.

She starts toward him. Breaks into a run. Then stops a few feet from him.

Watching him come to her.

His smile, his eyes illuminating her.

He stops and she touches him, lightly. Is this real?

The look at each other, wonderingly a moment.

Then laugh. She sniffs loudly.

LINDSEY:

Hello, Brigman.

BUD:

Hello, Mrs. Brigman.

Their lips meet.

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