The Abyss Page #3

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PAN AROUND the reactions of the various drill crew members... shocked,

hushed, curious.

DEMARCO:

Your company has authorized the Navy's use of

this facility for a rescue operation. The code

name is Operation Salvor.

ONE NIGHT:

You want us to search for the sub?

DEMARCO:

No. We know where it is. But she's in 2000 feet

of water and we can't reach her. We need divers

to enter the sub and search for survivors, if

any.

Bud's scowl has been deepening since DeMarco started to talk.

BUD:

Don't you guys have your own stuff for this type

of thing?

DEMARCO:

By the time we get our rescue submersible here

the storm front will be right on us. But you

can get your rig in under the storm and be on-

site in fifteen hours. That makes you our best

option right now.

Hippy, born suspicious and recently graduated to paranoid, leans forward...

HIPPY:

Why should we risk our butts on a job like this?

KIRKHILL:

I have been authorized to offer you all special-

duty bonuses equivalent to three times normal

dive pay.

CATFISH:

Hell, for triple time I'd crawl through razor

blades and shower off with lime juice.

FINLER:

I'm here to tell ya', you could set me on fire

and call me names.

BUD:

Look, I don't know what kind of a deal you guys

worked out with the company, but my people are

not qualified for this... they're oil workers.

DEMARCO:

A four-man SEAL team will transfer down to you

to supervise the operation.

BUD:

You can send down whoever you like, but I'm the

toolpusher on this rig, and when it comes to the

safety of these people, there's me... then

there's God. Understand? If things get dicey,

I'm pulling the plug.

KIRKHILL:

I think we're all on the same wavelength,

Brigman. Now let's get the wellhead uncoupled,

shall we?

CUT TO:

INT. DEEPCORE/COMMAND MODULE AND CORRIDOR 26

Bud stands beside the hatchway as the others file out toward their tasks.

They comment gravely as they pass...

JAMMER:

When Lindsey finds out about this, it's not

gonna be a pretty sight.

ONE NIGHT:

They're going to have to shoot her with a

tranquilizer gun.

CUT TO:

EXT. OCEAN -- DAY27

A single Navy Sea King churns through the rain under massive thunderheads.

The sea below is whipped by the storm.

INT./EXT. SEA KING 28

PANNING ALONG BOOTED FEET, four pairs of black military size twelves line

up, onto... a pair of Charles Jourdans fives under shapely ankles.

WIDER, revealing the four-man team of Navy SEALs. And a slender woman in

her early thirties. She's attractive, if a bit hardened, dressed

conservatively in a skirt and jacket. Meet LINDSEY. Project Engineer for

Deepcore. She's a pain in the ass, but you'll like her. Eventually.

She's holding on grimly, sitting crammed in with the SEALs and a bunch of

gear, getting tossed around by the storm. The SEALs are dressed alike in

black fatigues. They are muscular, finely-tuned and extremely dangerous

special-forces types. The leader of the SEAL team, LIEUTENANT COFFEY, makes

his way forward to the cockpit.

The pilot is white-knuckling his stick, trying to hold the great beast of a

helicopter in position. Through the windshield, the deck of the Benthic

Explorer can be seen below, pitching in a violent sea.

PILOT:

No way I'm putting her down. I shouldn't even

be flying in this sh*t.

COFFEY:

(cool)

Just hold it over the deck.

Coffey goes back to the crew deck, moving easily in the bucking craft. He

nods to the others SEALs, MONK, WILHITE, and SCHOENICK. In the open side

door, Wilhite clips a 100 foot nylon rope to the airframe and throws out the

coil. One by one the shoulder the gear-bags, grab the rope, and step out.

Lindsey stands swaying in the chopper door, watching the SEALs fast-roping

to the deck. One, two, three. Coffey looks at her.

COFFEY:

You want to be on that ship, there's only one

way it's going to happen.

He's sure she won't go for it. It's his certainty that gets her. She sets

her jaw. Opening her purse she takes out a small plastic bag, puts her

shoes and purse in the bag, and grips the bag in her teeth. Then grabs

the rope and slides down.

EXT. BENTHIC EXPLORER/HELIPAD 29

Swinging wildly in the wind like a human pendulum, Lindsey fast-ropes forty

feet to the deck. She steps away an instant before Coffey hits behind her.

Lindsey crosses the rainswept deck with athletic strides. Her nylons are

ruined. An air-crewman in the chopper lowers two additional equipment cases

using the rescue sling. The SEALs catch them as they swing radically across

the deck. They Navy chopper banks and seems to scurry away before the

mounting storm.

CUT TO:

EXT. OCEAN BOTTOM30

BLACKNESS. Then shafts of light become visible, above a ridge of rock.

Flatbed appears, trailing two heavy two cables. Behind it, the mass of

Deepcore emerges from the darkness, its forward lighting array blazing.

Flatbed is towing it like a tug, aided by Deepcore's own mighty stern

thrusters.

INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE 31

Bud, his feet propped up, uses joystick controls to 'fly' Deepcore,

maneuvering against currents and around seafloor obstacles. He is guided

by the side-scan sonar display, with Hippy assisting in the sonar shack.

Through the front viewport, Flatbed can be seen out ahead.

McBride appears on the bridge monitor, holding a sheet of weather-fax.

MCBRIDE (on screen)

Well, it's official, sportsfans. They're calling

it Hurricane Frederick, and it's going to be

making our lives real interesting in a few hours.

INT. EXPLORER BRIDGE -- DAY32

Bud responds via video.

BUD:

Fred, huh? I don't know. Hurricanes should be

named after women.

McBride looks up as the bridge door opens. Lindsey enters in a blast of wind,

wet as a wharf rat and twice as pissed off. Maybe Bud is right.

CUT TO:

INT. DEEPCORE/CONTROL MODULE 33

Bud is surprised to see Lindsey's face appear on the monitor screen.

LINDSEY:

I can't believe you let them do this!

BUD:

(unpreturbed, almost cheerful)

Hi, Lins. I thought you were in Houston.

LINDSEY:

I was, but I managed to bum a ride on the last

flight out here. Only here isn't where I left

it, is it, Bud?

BUD:

Wasn't up to me.

LINDSEY:

We were that close to proving a submersible

drilling platform could work. We had over seven

thousand feet of hole down for Chrissake. I

can't believe you let them grab my rig!

BUD:

Your rig?

LINDSEY:

My rig. I designed the damn thing.

BUD:

Yup, a Benthic Petroleum paid for it. So as long

as they're hold the pink slip, I go where they

tell me.

LINDSEY:

You wimp. I had a lot riding on this. They

bought you... more like least rented you cheap--

BUD:

I'm switching off now.

LINDSEY:

Virgil, you wiener! You never could stand up

to fight. You--

Bud hits the switch and the screen goes dead.

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