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The Abyss Page #5
- PG-13
- Year:
- 1989
- 145 min
- 650 Views
CATFISH:
Those guys ain't so tough. I fought plenty of
guys tougher'n them.
HIPPY:
Now we get to hear about how he used to be a
contender.
Catfish hold up one calloused fist up in front of Hippy's face.
CATFISH:
You see this? They used to call this the Hammer.
JAMMER:
Hippy wasn't born then.
It looks like the end of a long bus trip. Everyone silent... leafing
through beat-to-hell magazines or just staring. Lindsey has her feet propped
up on the smaller of the SEALs' two equipment cases. She casually toes open
one of the latches, then the other. Glances at Coffey. He's reading. She
begins to lift the lid with her toe. Gets a GLIMPSE INSIDE, of packing foam,
and what looks like a SMALL BLACK METAL BOX. Then... WHAM! Coffey's foot
comes down on the lid, slamming it shut. Startled, she looks up into his
cool gaze.
COFFEY:
Curiosity killed the cat.
CUT TO:
INT. GAS CONTROL STATION/CHAMBER DOOR -- LATER 48
TIGHT ON CATFISH'S hands... closing values... spinning the wheel on the
chamber hatch. CUT WIDER as it cracks open with a virgin's sigh and swings
aside.
CATFISH:
Y'all'er done to a turn and ready to serve.
Everybody okay?
The SEALs nod peremptorily and shoulder their gear. Lindsey exists first,
followed by Monk, Wilhite, and Schoenick. Coffey bends to relatch the small
equipment case. He is alone for one moment in the chamber. He raises his
hand and stares at it. The fingertips are trembling the slightest bit. He
clenches them into a fist and walks out.
INT. CORRIDOR 49
As Lindsey emerges into the main corridor of the rig, she bumps into a large,
dark mass.
LINDSEY:
Hey, was there a wall here before? I don't
remember a wall here. Oh, Jammer! Hi.
The 'wall' grins down to her.
JAMMER:
Howdy, there, little lady.
Coffey emerges behind them and, ignoring Lindsey, faces Jammer.
COFFEY:
(to Jammer)
Show us the dive prep area. We need to check
out your gear.
Jammer scowls, turns and leads the SEALs in the sub-bay. Catfish and Lindsey
exchange a look.
LINDSEY:
Those guys are about a much fun as a tax audit.
CUT TO:
TIGHT ON HIPPY, bathed in the light of the sonar display. He is making
kissing sounds at Beany, who has his inquisitive nose right up to Hippy's
lips.
LINDSEY:
Hippy, you're going to give that rat a disease.
WIDER, as Hippy and Bud to see Lindsey leaning in the doorway. She and Bud
size each other up. He opts for a jovial approach, his eyes wary.
BUD:
Well, well. Mrs. Brigman.
LINDSEY:
Not for long.
Lindsey crossed past him, her eyes scanning the banks of equipment, almost
unconsciously checking, checking... getting the pulse of her big iron baby.
BUD:
You never did like being called that, did you?
LINDSEY:
Not even when it meant something.
(looking through the front port)
Is that One Night up in Flatbed?
BUD:
Who else?
Lindsey leans past Bud to the gooseneck mike on the console.
LINSEY:
Hi, One Night, it's Lindsey.
INT. FLATBED51
One Night mimes a puking motion, finger down her throat. Then she replies
with sickening sweetness...
ONE NIGHT:
Oh, hi, Lindsey.
Lindsey fives the sonar shack the once-over. She tweaks some knobs.
BUD:
I can't believe you were dumb enough to come
down. Now you're stuck here for the storm...
dumb, hot-rod... dumb.
LINDSEY:
Look, I didn't come down here to fight.
She crosses past Bud and exits into the corridor. Bud bolts out of the chair
to follow her and Hippy scrambles in to take over.
INT. CORRIDOR/LADDER-WELL/LEVEL ONE LANDING 53
Bud catches up with Lindsey in the corridor, and through the following keeps
pace with here as she make here inspection.
BUD:
Then why'd you come down?
She stops abruptly to look at a leaky pipe. He almost slams into her. She
moves on, climbing down the ladder to the lower level.
LINDSEY:
You need me. Nobody knows the systems on this
rig better than I do. What is something was
to go wrong after the Explorer clears off? What
would have you done?
BUD:
Wow, you're right! Us poor dumb ol' boys might've
had to think for ourselves. Coulda been a
disaster.
On the lower level landing, Lindsey opens a hatch into one of the machine
rooms. ROAR OF PUMPS AND COMPRESSORS.
INT. MACHINE ROOM54
Lindsey enters and moves expertly through the dark labyrinth of pipes and
roaring machinery. Her eyes rove constantly over fittings, gauges, circuit
panels.
BUD:
(yelling)
You wanna know what I think?
LINDSEY:
Not particularly. Jeez, look where this is set!
Morons.
She scowls at a pressure gauge and turn a valve minutely.
BUD:
I think you were worried about me.
LINDSEY:
That must be it.
Lindsey's on the move again, and Bud scrambles through the pipes to keep up.
BUD:
No, I think you were. Come on, admit it.
LINDSEY:
I was worried about the rig. I've got over four
years invested in this project.
BUD:
Oh, yeah, right... and you only had three years
with me.
She looks up at him.
LINDSEY:
You've got to have priorities.
CUT TO:
INT. BUD'S ROOM 55
Darkness. The door opens and Bud snaps on the light.
BUD:
My bunk's the only one I can guarantee won't be
occupied. You can grab a couple hours before
we get there.
Lindsey slips past him into his tiny state-room, the only private bunk on the
rig. Rank had its privileges. His hand on the door is just level with her
eyes. She notices his wedding ring, a massive band of pure titanium
(something your fiancee might have picked out if she had a degree from
M.I.T.).
LINDSEY:
What are you still wearing that for?
BUD:
I don't know. Divorce ain't final. Forgot to
take it off.
Bud stays in the doorway. Lindsey takes a heaps of Bud's cloths off the
narrow bunk. Start unconsciously straightening the room.
LINDSEY:
I haven't worn mine in months.
BUD:
Yeah, what's-his-name wouldn't like it. The
Suit.
LINDSEY:
Do you always have to call him that? The Suit?
It makes you sound like such a hick. His name
is Michael.
Lindsey takes off her borrowed tennies and socks.
Bud eyes her, sounding too causal.
BUD:
So what about "Michael" then... Mr. Brooks
Brothers... Mr. BMW. You still seeing him?
LINDSEY:
No, I haven't seen him in a few weeks.
BUD:
What happened?
LINDSEY:
Bud, why are you doing this? It's not part of
you life any more.
BUD:
I'll tell you what happened... you woke up one
day and realized the guy never made you laugh.
LINDSEY:
You're right, Bud. It was just that simple.
Aren't you clever? You should get your own
show... Ask Dr. Bud, advice to the lovelorn
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"The Abyss" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_abyss_614>.
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