The Terminator Page #3

19 EXT. CITY STREET - MORNING 19

The night's rain has given way to a typical L.A. morning

of diffuse sunlight.

MOVING WITH A GIRL on a MOPED as she zips through traffic.

SARAH CONNER is 19, small and delicate-featured. Pretty in

a flawed, accessible way. She doesn't stop the party when

she walks in, but you'd like to get to know her. Her vulner-

able quality masks a strength even she doesn't know exists.

Sarah maneuvers nimbly, apparently in a hurry.

CUT TO:

20 EXT. BIG BOB'S RESTRAUNT - DAY 20

Sarah buzzes into the parking lot of Big Bob's Family

Restaurant and chains the moped to the icon of Big Bob

himself. The fiberglass cherub holds up his mammoth

hamburger in perpetual homage to whatever deity watches

out for fat kids.

Sarah removes a stack of college textbooks from the luggage

carrier and tuns to go into the restaurant.

SARAH:

(to Big Bob)

Watch this for me, big buns.

CUT TO:

21 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA 21

HIGH WIDE SHOT prominently featuring a VIDEO SURVEILLANCE

CAMERA F.G. as Sarah enters below. She passes under another

video eye as she crosses the main floor of the wholesomely

appointed eatery. Sarah goes through the swinging STAFF

doors under a third camera.

CUT TO:

22 INT. MANAGER'S OFFICE 22

The office is closet-like, lit by the glow of several

security monitors. CHUCK BREEN, day manager, pimply and

officious,watches Sarah in an overhead view of the service

corridor. He punches a switch and reaches for a microphone

on a studio gooseneck.

CUT TO:

23 INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR 23

Sarah glances up as Breen's voice rasps from a ceiling speaker.

BREEN (V.O.)

Sarah?

She answers the empty hallway.

SARAH:

Yes, Chuck?

BREEN:

Come to the office, please.

She turns back toward the office door at the end of the

corridor.

CUT TO:

24 MANAGER'S OFFICE 24

Sarah opens the door to Breen's closet control center.

SARAH:

Mission control to Chuck,

come in...

BREEN:

(without looking

up)

You're late.

Sarah is undaunted.

SARAH:

Aren't I worth waiting for?

BREEN:

Not really. Do you think you

can get here on time if I put

you on the floor as a waitress?

SARAH:

(grinning)

I don't know. I kinda had

my heart set on being a

cashier the rest of my life.

BREEN:

The pay's the same but you'll

make more in tips.

SARAH:

Thanks, Chuck. I need the

money. Can I still work the

hours around my classes?

Breen turns to punch up a display on the restaurant's

small accounting computer. Sarah looks over his shoulder

as he modifies the week's schedule.

BREEN:

Mmm. Same schedule's okay.

SARAH:

Alright!

BREEN:

(gravely)

Can you handle it?

SARAH:

It's not brain surgery,

Chuck.

Breen hands her an apron ceremoniously.

BREEN:

Here you go. You're a

Bob's Girl now. Nancy

will check you out.

SARAH:

I won't let the fat kid down.

CUT TO:

25 OMITTED 25

26 INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY 26

ANGLE - TIGHT ON LOCKER DOOR as it slams shut, revealing

Sarah transformed into a "Bob's Girl".

Her hair is in a bun.

White blouse. Short flared skirt and apron with a bow.

She resembles a suburbanized peasant maid looking for a

goat to milk.

Sarah confronts her reflection in the mirror, pondering

its absurdity.

She pinches her sheeks.

Smiles vacuously.

SARAH:

Hi, I'm Sarah and I'll be

you waitress.

(pause)

I'm so wholesome, I could

puke.

CUT TO:

27 EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY 27

TIGHT ON CAR SIDE WINDOW, as a figure approaches, reflected

in the glass. A fist punches through the window, shattering

it. The thief unlocks the door and gets behind the wheel.

It's Terminator.

CUT TO:

28 INT. YELLOW MAVERICK - DAY 28

With a blow from the heel of his hand Terminator smashes loose

the ignition assembly and strips the wires with a brutal

twist of his fingers. Touching the proper wires he starts

the car.

CUT TO:

28A EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 28A

Terminator walks past the long display window of an

enormous pawnshop emporium. Signs declare, among other

things, GUNS and AMMO is red block letters.

Terminator passes the appliance section, and the pictures

on a row of TV sets distort and break-up sequentially as

he walks by, returning to normal behind him.

He enters the store.

CUT TO:

29 INT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 29

TIGHT ON GLASS COUNTERTOP as an AR-180 ASSAULT RIFLE WITH

SCOPE is laid beside a number of other guns: a COLT K-

MODEL .45 ACP, a SMITH AND WESSON .38 FOUR-INCH, a BERETTA

.225 ACP.

TERMINATOR (V.O.)

...the Remington 1100 Autoloader...

WIDE as the CLERK, who looks like a sick lizard, pallid

and paunchy, takes the rifle from a wall rack. He lays it

beside the arsenal of perfectly legal anti-human artillery

already on the glass counter.

Terminator scans expressionlessly for additional selec-

tions.

CLERK:

Anything else?

TERMINATOR:

A phased plasma pulse-laser in

the forty watt range...

CLERK:

(annoyed)

Just what you see, pal.

He indicates the display case and wall racks with a

minimal gesture.

TERMINATOR:

The Uzi 9 millimeter.

CLERK:

(setting it out)

You know your weapons, buddy.

Terminator examines each in turn, working the actions with

curt, precise movements.

CLERK:

(continuing)

Any one of them's ideal for

home defense. Which'll it be?

TERMINATOR:

All.

The clerk digs deep and finds a scrap of a smile.

CLERK:

Maybe I'll close early.

Cash or charge?

Instead of replying, Terminator takes a box of shotgun shells

from a stack on the display case.

CLERK:

Sorry, I can't sell the ammo

with the guns. You'll have

to---Hey!

Terminator has calmly begun feeding the shells into the

shotgun.

CLERK:

(continuing)

You can't to that...

TERMINATOR:

(evenly)

Wrong.

He raises the barrel and pulls the trigger. The gun THUNDERS.

CUT TO:

30 EXT. GAS STATION/PHONE BOOTH - DAY 30

The yellow Maverick pulls to a stop beside a single phone

booth.

MOVING WITH TERMINATOR, as he gets out, walks to the booth

and rapidly pulls its occupant out by his greasy T-shirt,

flinging him backward into the parking lot. The guy is

bear-like, slab-handed, but Terminator doesn't even glance

back as he steps in to take the man's place.

MAN:

(outraged)

Hey, man...

CUT TO:

31 PHONE BOOTH

A woman's voice, a faint reedy monologue, issues from the

dangling receiver.

Terminator leafs rapidly through the directory.

ANGLE - C.U. PAGES FLIPPING

ANGLE - MACRO SHOT, as Terminator's finger comes to rest

beside a now-familiar listing:

CONNOR, SARAH

CUT TO:

32 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA

Sarah is bustling about, trying to service the start of

the dinner rush. In waitress parlance, she's 'in it'.

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