The Terminator Page #5

anymore? They catch ya steal-

ing?

SARAH:

(smiling)

What's it to ya?

When she leaves, the old man is grinning, behind the menu,

where no one can see him.

CUT TO:

36 INT. BIG BOB'S/SERVICE CORRIDOR36

Sarah rounds the corner, walking fast as she undoes her

apron. She calls out to the walls without looking up.

SARAH:

I'm on break, Chuck. Carla's

got my station.

As she approaches the locker room where the girls take

their coffee breaks, the door bursts open and Nancy

beckons to Sarah.

NANCY:

(excitedly)

Hurry up. It's about you...

I mean sort of...Come on!

CUT TO:

37 INT. BIG BOB'S/BREAK ROOM 37

Nancy guides Sarah to the small black and white portable

TV in the corner. Two other girls, smoking cigarettes

with their shoes off and nyloned feet on the table, are

already watching. One glances at Sarah.

WAITRESS:

Hey, Sarah. This is weird.

They huddle around the set, intent on a newscast in progress.

TV ANCHORWOMAN:

...and a police spokesman at

the scene refused to speculate

on a motive for the execution-

style slaying of the Encino

housewife. He did however say

that an accurate description of

the suspect has been compiled

from several witnesses. Once

again, Sarah Connor, thirty-five,

mother of two, brutally shot to

death in her home this afternoon.

As the news grinds on, Sarah gazes unseeingly at the screen.

Nancy claps her on the shoulder, laughing.

NANCY:

You're dead, honey.

CUT TO:

38 EXT. HEALTH CLUB - DUSK 38

Sunlight is dying when Sarah swings her moped to the curb

in front of the 'GOOD LIFE SPA', a large, crowded health

club.

CUT TO:

39 INT. HEALTH CLUB/AEROBICS STUDIO 39

MUSIC BOOMS and masses of leotarded cellulite sway in close

F.G. as CAMERA DOLLIES along a row of panting, stretching

women. In deep B.G. Sarah slips in through the door and

waits against the wall while the human dynamo, GINGER VENTURA,

leads the class energetically. Ginger, Sarah's roommate,

is a party-stopper. Red-haired, athletic, sensuous. She's

pretty enough when still, but stunning in motion. And she's

in motion.

Ginger yells commands and cheerfully dives into contortions

to the BEAT of a MOTOWN FAVORITE.

MARCO, a handsome, well-defined guy wearing a tight STAFF

T-shirt, strolls up for a drink at the water fountain next

to Sarah.

MARCO:

Hi. I've seen you around.

You're cute. Cute I remember.

SARAH:

I'm Sarah. Ginger's roommate.

MARCO:

Yeah, right. I'm Marco.

The dance tape ends.

GINGER:

...and three aaand four! And

that's it ladies! Now, didn't

that feel good?

The group collapses ensemble. A chorus of groans.

GINGER:

Let's think positive or next

time I'll play the FM version.

Ginger walks over to Sarah as the class disperses. Marco

is leaning on the wall next to Sarah, who is enjoying the

attention.

SARAH:

...yeah, really? Say some-

thing in Italian.

Before Marco can reply, Ginger pulls the front of his gym

shorts out and peers down. She shakes her head.

GINGER:

You're wasting your time, kiddo.

Let's go.

She grabs Sarah by the arm and pulls her out the door.

Sarah catches a glimpse of Marco's expression over her

shoulder as the door closes.

CUT TO:

40 INT. HEALTH CLUB/STAIRS AND CORRIDOR 40

PANAGLIDE WITH THE TWO GIRLS, as they descend to the first

floor and enter a hallway

Sarah is gasping with laughter.

SARAH:

(weakly)

I don't believe you did that.

Ginger is adjusting her ever-present WALKMAN-TYPE CASSETTE

PLAYER at her hip. She slips on the earphones as they walk

along.

Sarah feigns outrage.

SARAH:

(continuing)

I had him hooked. He was

just about to ask me out.

I could tell.

GINGER:

That guy's a jerk. I did

you a favor.

SARAH:

I'll do the same for you

sometime.

Sarah laughs and claps her friend on the back. They turn

in at a door marked WEIGHT ROOM.

CUT TO:

41 INT. WEIGHT ROOM 41

SEVERAL ANGLES, on glistening arms, legs, torsos merging

into bio-mechanical kinetic sculptures with the chrome-steel

levers and tubes. The CRASH and SQUEAL of metal against

metal.

In F.G., two Conan-esque arms thrust upward, glistening.

Ginger's boyfriend, MATT McCALLISTER, the assistant manager

of the club, strains out his last reps, bench-pressing

enormous weight on the Nautilus machine.

Despite his imposing appearance, Matt is one of the warmest

people you'd ever want to meet.

His face is contorted, muscles knotted for the last push.

He heaves it up with a guttural cry.

Lowering his weights with a CLANG, Matt lies panting, arms

dangling at his side, eyes closed.

A pair of female legs appear.

GINGER (V.O.)

What's this? Sleep therapy?

Matt opens his eyes.

GINGER:

(continuing)

You think somebody's gonna

do this for you? Look at

those shriveled bi's. And

you haven't worked lat's or

ab's since Wednesday.

MATT:

(smiling)

Hello, sweetheart. Had a

rough day?

GINGER:

(softening)

Come here, wimp.

She leans down as he sits up and they meet in a kiss that's

bad for the other guys' discipline.

Sarah waits until they break the clinch to speak.

SARAH:

Hi, Matt.

Matt look backwards over the bench, and replies, upside-down.

MATT:

(grinning broadly)

Heeey! It's my favorite

Sarah. Hi, babe.

Ginger pulls the pin on Mat's weights and re-inserts it

beneath the entire stack, the maximum weight.

GINGER:

Alright, warm-ups are over.

Back to work, Bunky.

Ginger readadjusts her headphones as the two girls walk away.

MATT:

'Bye beautiful. You too,

Ginger.

Two weightlifters nearby look at each other, than at Matt.

WEIGHTLIFTER:

Bunky?

CUT TO:

42 EXT. HEALTH CLUB/STREETS - DUSK42

Sarah lurches away from the curb on her moped, almost

spilling Ginger who is attempting to ride double. They

swing out onto a main thoroughfare and careen through

the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Sarah maneuvers deftly though overloaded and unstable.

Ginger doesn't know whether to laugh of scream at the

near-misses.

She does both.

CUT TO:

43 OMITTED 43

44 EXT. STREET/CONSTRUCTION SIGHT - DUSK

On a side street the girls pass an excavation site between

high-rises. They pass OUT OF FRAME as CAMERA HOLDS on the

construction area and Ginger's shrieks fade.

In the F.G., under an overpass, Reese sits is a car watching

the powerful machines moving earth.

He's in a late-model non-descript GREY SEDAN, one of a row

of cars gathering dirt beside the construction site.

Crab-armed back-hoes and massive caterpillars ROAR through

a curtain of dust, under intense floodlights. A power-shovel

moves its great arm, lighting its own way with an arc-light.

CUT TO:

45 INT. GREY SEDAN 45

Reese sits motionless in the dark. Waiting. The clock in

the dash ticks quietly.

He flips on the radio. A fatuous POP ROCK STATION.

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