The Abyss Page #7

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LINDSEY:

Uh, yeah, roger that... uh, found it.

EXT. MONTANA/SUBMERSIBLES 62

Cab One maneuvers along the flank of the enormous sub, while Flatbed and Cab

Three move above it. Wilhite take readings with a hand-held neutron counter.

COFFEY:

Cab One, radiation readings?

LINDSEY:

Neutron counter's not showing very much.

COFFEY:

Wilhite, anything?

WILHITE:

Negative. Nominal.

COFFEY:

Just continue forward along the hull.

LINDSEY:

Copy that, continuing forward. You just want

me to get shots of everything, right?

COFFEY:

Roger, document as much as you can, but keep

moving. We're on a tight timeline.

LINDSEY:

Copy that.

The great black hull of the Montana recedes into the darkness beyond the

puny beams of their lights. It seems bigger than the Titanic and just as

eerie in its final resting place. On it side, the sub's top deck becomes a

wall along which the tiny submersibles are moving. Ahead, in the lights, is

a white painted circle.

COFFEY:

That's the midship hatch. You see it, Cab Three?

HIPPY:

Roger, I see it.

BUD:

Just get around so your lights are on the hatch.

HIPPY:

Check. Then I just hang with these guys, right?

COFFEY:

Right.

ONE NIGHT:

How do you want me?

COFFEY:

Just hold above it. Alright, A team.

Wilhite, Schoenick, and Monk unhook their short whip-umbilicals from the

central manifold and roll off the side of Flatbed. They maneuver down toward

the sub's hatch. Hippy guides Cab Three in closer to the hatch area.

INT. CAB THREE 63

Hippy turns to Perry back in the lockout chamber, ready to launch Little Geek.

The ROV has a handheld neutron-counter gripped in its manipulator arm.

MONK (V.O.)

Stand by on the ROV.

HIPPY:

Perry, stand by on the ROV.

(to Little Geek)

Sorry about this, little buddy. Better you than

me, know what I mean?

Hippy nods and Perry drops Little Geek through the hatch into the water and

feed out a length of tether. Hippy picks up the control box and watches the

video screen, guiding the ROV toward the Montana's hatch.

EXT. MONTANA HATCH AREA 64

The three SEALs have unlatched the deck cover and revealed the hatch. They

open the out hatch and Monk swims down into to narrow escape trunk. He bangs

on the inner hatch with a wrench, listening carefully with his helmet pressed

against it.

MONK:

It's flooded. Alright, I'm opening her up.

Straining hard in the confined space, he get the lower hatch open, then swims

backs out immediately. He gestures to Hippy, via Little Geek's vision, and

Hippy flies the ROV into the hatch.

EXT./INT. CAB ONE/MISSLE DECK 65

Meanwhile Cab One and Flatbed have proceeded forward along the hull. Beyond

Lindsey's front port, the great hatches of the Trident missile tubes roll

toward us in procession. Several of the hatch covers have been forced

partway open by the warping of the hull.

COFFEY (V.O.)

Radiation is nominal. The warheads must still

be intact.

LINDSEY:

How many are there?

COFFEY (V.O.)

24 Trident missiles. Eight MIRVs per missile.

LINDSEY:

That's 192 warheads... And how powerful are

they?

SCHOENICK:

Your MIRV is a tactical nuke, 50 kilotons

nominal yield. Say times time Hiroshima.

LINDSEY (V.O.)

Jesus Christ... this is World War Three in a

can.

COFFEY (V.O.)

Let's knock off the chatter, please.

INT. CAB THREE 66

TIGHT ON VIDEO SCREEN -- LITTLE GEEK'S CAMERA. Passing through a hatch, into

a large grotto filled with pipes and machinery. The engine room.

MONK (V.O.)

Getting a reading?

HIPPY:

It's twitching but it's below the line you said

was safe.

EXT. MONTANA MIDSHIP HATCH 67

Monk moves into the opening.

MONK:

Alright. Let's get in there.

Wilhite and Schoenick follow him through the escape trunk, into the dark

corridor beyond.

EXT. MONTANA/BOW SECTION 68

Out of the darkness ahead emerges the trailing edge of the sail, big as a

five-story building. Far below her, Flatbed moves along the edge of the

ledge which supports the vast sub. Its lights, and Lindsey's strobes, reveal

the tremendous damage to the forward section as they pass the sail. The torn

and twisted hull looms above Flatbed as it sets down.

Coffey indicated an enormous rent where the bow section is almost torn away

from the rest of the hull.

COFFEY:

We'll go in through that large breach.

BUD:

Let's go, guys.

Bud's team leaves Flatbed, swimming forward. The opening is a black mouth in

their lights. Coffey moves inside. Bud attaches one end of an orange nylon

line to a piece of pipe and moves into the wreck behind him.

BUD:

Take it slow, stay on the line, and stay in

sight. Watch for hatches that could close on

you, or any loose equipment that could fall.

Jammer, Catfish, Finler, and Sonny follow him inside.

INT. MONTANA/FORWARD BERTHING SECTION69

They find themselves in the forward berthing compartment with its rows of

bunks. The room is twisted and disheveled, with bedding hanging from the

bunks like the lolling tongues of dead dogs. Papers float in gentle

eddying currents, letters, pages from paperback novels, photos of girlfriends.

Bud pays out the line and follows Coffey forward. As they pass sealed doors,

Coffey pounds with a tool, listening. All flooded.

INT. ENGINE ROOM 70

Monk leads his team along a corridor, following Little Geek's tether. Through

a hatch into the engine room. Their lights play over flooded machinery.

INT. COMPANIONWAY/CONTROL ROOM AND ATTACK CENTER 71

From the berthing Coffey's team swims up a companionway towards the attack

center. He pulls at a buckled watertight door.

COFFEY:

It's jammed. Give me a hand.

Jammer and Bud squeeze in around Coffey. Together they wrench the door open

on its squealing hinges. It give way suddenly, flying open. The suction

pulls SOMETHING THROUGH. It slams Bud's shoulder. He turns. A FACE...

RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM! He jerks back, gasping.

Face to face with Barnes, the sonarman. The ensign seems unmarked, merely

dismayed at his own mortality, judging from his wide eyes and mouth. Coffey

reaches past Bud and pushes the ensign's body out of the way.

COFFEY:

Alright, let's keep moving. We knew we were

going to see this.

They enter the control room. Their lights play over the high-tech wreckage.

Floating debris and bodies make shifting shadows on the walls as they swirl

in the currents. A languid, weightless waltz. They move through the carnage.

Their lights pick out tableaux... the planesman still strapped in his chair,

someone jammed into the ceiling pipes, hanging down. Dead faces, pale in the

lights. Still. We see only glimpses.

Coffey locates the captain's body and rolls it over. Removes the missile

arming key which hangs on a chain around the dead man's neck. Moves on. All

business. Bud turns back to his guys. Checking them. He notices Jammer is

breathing so rapidly he's fogging his helmet. Catfish, Finler, and Sonny

aren't much better. A wave a panic seems imminent.

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