The Abyss Page #5

---

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.

INT. PRESSURE CHAMBER 47

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:

INT. COMMAND MODULE 50

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.

INT. COMMAND MODULE 52

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

from three hundred fathoms.

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes