The Thing

CAST:

MACREADY 35. Helicopter pilot. Likes chess. Hates

the cold. The pay is good.

GARRY 46. The station manager. Stiff. Ex-army

officer. Wears a handgun.

CHILDS 33. Six-four. Two-fifty. Black. A

mechanic. Can be jolly. But don't mess.

BLAIR 50. Sensitive. Intelligent. Unassuming.

An assistant biologist.

DR. COPPER 45. Professional. A decent man. A good

doctor.

PALMER 27. Second string chopper pilot. Crack

mechanic. Long hair. Slight sixties acid

damage.

NAULS 22. The cook. Bright. Black. Irreverent.

But kindhearted. Roller skates.

NORRIS 44. Stocky. Rugged looking. A

geophysicist. An incipient heart condition.

BENNINGS 38. A meteorologist. Dutiful. An old pro.

CLARK 24. The dog handler. Likes it here. Good

at his job.

SANCHEZ 21. The radio operator. Hates it here.

Lousy at his job.

In the winter of 1982 these men were commissioned by the

United States National Science Foundation to gather data

concerning the physical and natural sciences on the

continent of Antarctica.

THE MAIN COMPOUND OF U.S. OUTPOST #31

The interior is a cramped and never ending maze of

hallways, passageways and doors which connect the many

rooms and compartments within the compound. Sturdy, but

prefabricated materials have been used in its

construction.

There is a laboratory. An infirmary. A kitchen and mess

hall. A communications room and sleeping quarters. Other

cubicles are for storage and supplies.

The most spacious area of the building, and the main

center of activity, is the Rec Room. Of the many entrance

ways to this room can be seen the small work chambers with

their sophisticated computers and other scientific

equipment.

The below quarter houses the generator and still other

compartments for storage.

A long underground tunnel connects the main compound to

the dog kennel.

FADE IN:

A STARRY BLACKNESS

From out of the billions, the smallest of specks drives

slowly forward. It closes; getting larger; its features

becoming more identifiable: a vessel. Flip-flopping; out

of control. Its stern roaring with flame. It passes; its

blue fire surging into the screen.

"THE THING"

A thundering...

FADE TO:

A BLIND AND FERAL WHITENESS

... Glacial desert... gusts of snow... superimpose:

ANTARCTICA 1982 WINTER

A SOUND:

Loud and strident. A helicopter streaks across frame. It

travels precariously close to the ground; its chassis

battered and swayed by the wind.

INT. COPTER

Red dials beam on the faces of two men. One carries a

rifle and searches the horizon with binoculars. The other

pilots. Their unkempt faces, their blazing eyes notate a

wildness. They bark at each other in some Scandinavian

tongue. Two men arguing like mad and desperate children.

The man with the binoculars sights something.

EXT. HORIZON - BINOCULARS' POV - A DOG

It turns and snarls at the craft some fifteen hundred

yards to its rear. Then whirls and gallops off. A gun

blast kicks up snow at its heels.

INT. COPTER

Another blast of rifle fire as the man takes issue with

his prey. The pilot slams a fist into his gunman friend

and implores for better aim. The craft swoops lower and

the engine is put into full throttle.

EXT. HILL - THE DOG

running feverishly up and over a hill of ice. A weather-

beaten, wooden sign sticks up on the other side:

U.S. NATIONAL SCIENCE FOUNDATION -- OUTPOST #31

A rifle blast kicks up more snow.

EXT. COMPOUND OF U.S. OUTPOST #31

A large, almost snow-covered building. Not far from that

a tall, meteorological balloon tower.

A scattering of several small shacks at varying distances

from the main compound. The smaller hovels are connected

by wooden planked walkways and steadying ropes.

Multicolored pennants stick put of the snow marking

pathways and directions to outdoor experiments.

A tractor and two helicopters sit idle, covered with

mounds of continuously mounting snow.

TWO MEN, NORRIS AND BENNINGS

standing some thirty yards from the main building are in

the process of letting up a large red balloon. Childs, a

hefty black man, is twenty yards away tinkering with a

snowmobile. Their beards are caked with ice. It is

winter and it is harsh.

The faint sound of the copter turns their attention.

THE COPTER:

flying ever lower now. The man with the gun leans

dangerously outside and fires away at the dog as it nears

the outpost.

THE MEN:

outside the compound look to one another, incredulous.

THE COPTER:

much too low now, and chastised by the wind, attempts a

high-speed landing, directly on the heels of the sprinting

dog. It bounces violently on the hard-packed surface.

Once. Twice. Passing the dog.

A third bounce sends it skidding. It flips; its blades

snapping off like toothpicks. It lands belly-up,

soundless except for the whine of its engine.

The man with the gun rolls out before the explosion.

INT. MAIN COMPOUND

The half a dozen men, playing cards, monitoring equipment,

listening to music -- spring to their feet, startled.

EXT. COMPOUND

The dog reaches Norris and Bennings, as they awkwardly

wade through the snow, toward the downed copter.

THE SURVIVOR:

of the crash, his eyes crazed with determination,

struggles to his feet. Heedless of his companion, he

double-times his way to the men and the dog. He reloads

his gun and bellows in his Scandinavian tongue.

Norris and Bennings have no idea what he is saying.

The survivor waves his arms as if shooting them off,

screaming as he does so; his face now caked with blood.

The two men are bewildered. The dog jumps up, licking and

pawing them, imploring for safety.

Blam!! The visitor fires. The men jump back in

disbelief.

NORRIS:

What the fu...

Blam! Blam! The crazed visitor screams and fires as he

stalks after them. His countenance ablaze, mad. Ice and

snow kick up about the terrified Americans. A bullet

smacks into the dog's hip, sending it skidding and howling

in pain.

Childs, the black man by the snowmobile, takes cover,

diving behind his machine.

Bennings is hit. Norris pulls, drags him back toward the

compound. The dog crawls along beside them.

The intruder is relentless in his assail. He runs,

screaming, firing, screaming, reloading and firing.

INT. COMPOUND

Total confusion. Some watch helplessly through the small,

fogged-up and translucent windows. Others try to mobilize

grabbing for their heavy jackets.

CLOSE ON A .357 MAGNUM

as it efficiently breaks through a windowpane and into the

cold. A steady hand grips it firmly.

THE SCANDINAVIAN

getting closer. Kablam! Suddenly, his head jerks back.

He falls to his knees and then face down into the snow.

NORRIS AND BENNINGS

stare blankly, but relievedly at the fallen man. The dog

whimpers in pain.

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