The Thing Page #23

NAULS:

It's in between us and them!! How

we going to get back?!

SANCHEZ:

Can't hear you.

INT. REC ROOM

MacReady, cursing, rips the speakers off the wall.

MACREADY:

What are they doing out there?!

The music is now subdued within the room, but continues

booming throughout the camp. Nauls' scream can be barely

heard.

GARRY:

What's he saying?

INT. KITCHEN - NAULS

at the top of his lungs...

NAULS:

MacReady! We been cut off!!

A sharp, red, talon-like fingernail, pierces the top of

the door above Nauls' head. It saws downward, quickly.

Black goo drips through the slit. The sawing obscured by

the music.

Sanchez, eyes bulging, points. Nauls turns. A claw rips

through the wood. Nauls dives to the floor.

In the opposite direction, behind Sanchez, another arm

splits through the door and the refrigerator, extends

itself five feet and yanks Sanchez back as if he were a

puppet.

Sanchez struggles, looking imploringly at Nauls. He bites

down on his capsule. Nauls takes off like a speed skater.

INT. REC ROOM

The sound of the screeching over the music.

MACREADY:

Got to get to the generator.

He opens the door. Looks down the hall. No one. The

speakers -- blaring music.

NAULS:

full speed down the maze. Left. Right. Totally

reckless. He hits a straightaway.

SANCHEZ'S BODY

from out of nowhere, blasts through the hallway wall,

directly in Nauls' path. A thick arm pins the body to the

other side. Unable to stop, Nauls skids out of control,

banging into the sides of the wall, his cyanide capsule

flying out of his mouth.

Whatever the rest of it is, it starts to crumble through

the wall. Nauls dives over the arm, somersaults to his

feet and takes off.

INT. MAIN HALL

MacReady, running, spots Nauls careening out of a turn,

heading toward him.

NAULS:

Get back!!

MACREADY:

The generator!

NAULS:

Screw the generator!!

Nauls blazes by him. MacReady hears the snarls and

screeches heading his way. He streaks after Nauls.

INT. REC ROOM

They make it in. Lock the door... MacReady tries to catch

his breath. Nauls shakes, pants.

NAULS:

Got Sanchez... World War Three

wouldn't mess with this f***er...

Can go through walls... And it's

like all over the place...

MACREADY:

Calm down and get in your position.

NAULS:

Position, my ass...

Garry fiddles with the two generators.

GARRY:

I'm going to bump this up, much as I

can.

NAULS:

Boulder Dam might do it.

The loud music in the compound is turned off. MacReady

shuts off the lights. The men spread out. Silence.

CUT TO:

INT. REC ROOM

The men watch all the doors. Dead silence. Dark.

Whispers.

GARRY:

How long's it been?

MACREADY:

Little over two hours.

NAULS:

Maybe it ain't coming.

MACREADY:

Then we go after him.

NAULS:

Bet the last place you ever go.

The sound of a door opening and closing. Far off.

Another creaking door is opened. A rustling. Still far

off. MacReady and Nauls spread further apart.

The soft bubbling, cooling sound. A slight scratch at the

door. Garry's hand tightens around the generator

switches. The scratching gets more pronounced. MacReady

cautions Garry with a whisper.

MACREADY:

Wait...

The door begins to pound from the outside. Nauls and

MacReady light two cocktails each.

The door booms. The room's foundations shake. The

ceiling quivers. The gas bombs are cocked.

From the roof The Thing roars down into their midst.

Stunned, the men stumble back. MacReady throws his gas

bomb. Nauls the same.

For a moment it stands silhouetted in flame. Enormous.

Grotesque.

Garry bolts for the main door. The Thing's tongue spirals

from his mouth and spears him. The good two-thirds of its

body follows its tongue and engulfs Garry by the door.

Another leg slaps Nauls to the ground. MacReady dodges

still another appendage, dives on the generators and

throws the switch.

The current rips through the door. Garry dies instantly.

One of The Thing's talons, still caught in the door, sends

it writhing in pain. It literally rips the door from its

latchings and pounds it to the ground, trying to shake it

loose. Nauls, hobbles, scrambles, out of the opening.

MacReady dives through the window and out into the storm.

CUT TO:

INT. COMPOUND - HALL

The distant sound of a motor. Nauls, battered and

bloodied, his leg apparently broken, crawls along the

ground. Another sound, a bubbling and gurgling is heard

well to his rear. But closing.

The terror forces him to drag faster, oblivious to the

pain.

He reaches the bathroom stall. Crawls in. Locks it. The

gurgling nears. Leaning on the toilet seat, he looks

about himself, frantically.

The Presence pauses at the door. A scratching. Nauls

paws, rips at a cracked and weathered slab of wood,

cutting his fingers as he tries to break it off the

siding.

A strong blow begins to breach the stall door. Nauls

finally unhinges the piece of wood, brings the jagged end

to one side of his throat and rips...

INT. LAD WALL

The motorized rumbling nears. The wall seems to explode.

The tractor barrels into the lab. Its enormous shovel

scooper tearing half the room to shreds.

MacReady drives. His eyes glint like a wild man's; he

looks stark raving mad.

His frostbite, now in an advanced stage, resembles black

war paint. He clenches a stick of dynamite between his

teeth, like a buccaneer's cutlass. Two large, compressed

air tanks have been tied together at the top and are

draped around his neck. They are marked -- HYDROGEN.

They are used for the weather balloons.

He pulls the tractor to a stop, yanks the stick from his

mouth, grins and bellows.

MACREADY:

Okay, creep! Just you and me now!

Be on your toes! We're going to do

a little remodeling!

MacReady guns it through the next wall and into the

infirmary. Medical equipment goes flying. The machine is

powerful; the prefabricated walls buckling under its

force.

INT. COMPOUND

A trail of viscous yellow ooze leads around a bend.

Boom.

MacReady rams into the mess hall, sweeping away tables,

chairs. He sings out loud the lyrics of some Mexican

song. All the while he keeps his eyes on everything.

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