The Thing Page #4

MACREADY:

Give me a hand.

They push, shove, grunt. The door gives a bit. Finally

more. It widens enough for MacReady to see that a large

computer-like machine is blocking their path. MacReady

wedges in and shines the flashlight.

It is the communications room. Holes in its roof have

allowed in the freezing cold. The flashlight exposes the

back of the radio chair. One more nudge allows them into

the room.

A beat as they catch their breath. MacReady spots a

Coleman lantern. He lights it with a match. Holds it up.

The brighter light exposes the top of a man's head sitting

in the radio chair.

MACREADY:

Hey, Sweden...! You okay?

The chair rocks slightly with the gentle breeze. They

inch closer. A yard from the chair, MacReady stops the

Doctor. He pokes his gun at the chair's back.

MACREADY:

Sweden?!

Dr. Copper spots something. From the man's wrist on the

armrest, he follows a long, yarn-thick, red line, ending

in a pool of frozen blood on the floor.

The two men step around the chair. The Norwegian stares

up in blanched death. A gaping black hole for a mouth.

His throat and wrists slit. An old-fashioned straight

razor in his lap.

MacReady turns off the hissing radio, and marches to the

other door. It is locked and barricaded.

DR. COPPER

(more to himself)

My God, what in hell happened here?

MACREADY:

Come on, Copper.

The two men free a machine-like obstacle from the other

exit. MacReady opens a lock and pushes the door open.

More blackness. Stronger wind. Copper holds the lantern

high as they make their way down a row of wooden steps and

into a cavernous, underground causeway.

MACREADY:

Hey, Sweden!!!

DR. COPPER

(irritated)

They're not Swedish, goddamn it,

they're Norwegian, MacRe --

Whap!! Something slaps into the Doctor's face from the

darkness. The lantern crashes to the ground. The Doctor

stumbles, falls. MacReady grabs the flashlight and whirls

in different directions. A panting beat. Silence.

Dr. Copper holds up what hit him. A thick centerfold,

buffeted by the wind. MacReady takes it.

MACREADY:

Norwegian of the Month, Doc.

Harmless.

MacReady pockets it for further viewing.

INT. THE NARROWEST OF CORRIDORS

The supporting beams have long since buckled and cracked

from the constantly moving ice underneath. The evidence

of fire has further weakened the foundations. The wood

creaks overhead. Bits of ice and silt trickle down.

The two men walk hunched, cautious. MacReady gingerly

tries to make his way around a broken and smoldering beam.

He brushes it gently sending a shower of debris from the

yawning roof.

The two men wait until it subsides and then moves on.

Further down. MacReady's knee bumps into something along

the wall, causing him to stumble slightly. He shines his

light on it.

An arm is sticking out of a steel door about three feet

off the ground. The door has been slammed shut. The arm

pinned, its fist still gripping a small welding torch.

The flame long since gone out.

MACREADY:

(wincing)

Holy sh*t...

He tries the door. Unlocked. It opens. The arm drops to

the ground. It has been severed by the force of the slam.

Its owner is nowhere to be seen.

MacReady, sickened, coughs. Dr. Copper mumbles.

DR. COPPER

Christ...

They step over the arm and into another slim passageway.

Moving along they come to rest in front of a door with

Norwegian lettering on it.

MacReady pushes it open with his foot. Dozens of papers

fly about, flailed by the holes in the Quonset hut-style

roof. The place is a wreck. They enter. MacReady

surveying the small room with his flashlight.

DR. COPPER

... Laboratory.

Broken beakers, test tubes, a microscope are illuminated.

MacReady notices a video camera.

MACREADY:

Portable video unit.

Copper makes his way over to the main work table. He

shuffles through papers, glancing at the writing.

MACREADY:

Anything?

DR. COPPER

All in Norwegian.

Dr. Copper bends down and begins gathering the papers,

strewn about the room.

MACREADY:

What are you doing?

DR. COPPER

Could be important work. Might as

well bring it back.

MACREADY:

It's getting late. Hurry it. I'm

going to check the last few rooms.

He exits. Amongst the rubble, Dr. Copper finds a pocket

tape recorder and several cassettes. He selects a tape

and is about to pop it in when he senses something to his

rear. He turns. Looks. A beat. Nothing.

INT. HALLWAY

MacReady shoves himself into another room.

INT. ROOM

Debris and wood flush down on him. The receding ceiling

had been blocking the door from above. He brushes his

coat and shines the light upwards.

The ceiling is a shambles. He then shines the light

deeper into the room.

INT. NORWEGIAN LAB

Dr. Copper is playing the small tape recorder. A casual

Norwegian voice drones on as if making notes. He fast

forwards. The same casual drone.

MACREADY (O.S.)

Copper, come here!!

INT. ROOM

Dr. Copper enters, squeezing in, through the door. The

wood cracks overhead. More debris comes falling down.

MACREADY:

Careful. It's about to go.

Copper dusts himself. MacReady stands before a huge block

of ice. Fifteen feet long. Six feet wide. Four feet

tall.

It has partially melted, but its thawing process has been

stopped by the now freezing temperatures within the

outpost.

Its one curious feature: the middle has been thawed and

scooped out. Giving it the appearance of a large

bathtub. The two men study it uncomprehendingly.

MacReady's gaze turns to a large metal cabinet at his

left. He moves for a closer look. Several photographs

are pasted to its door. Small snapshots of the Norwegians

at work and play.

He tries to open it. Stuck. The partially caved-in

ceiling is slightly blocking the top of the door. He

tries again, careful not to dislodge the wood and plaster

above. Bits of dust float down.

DR. COPPER

Watch it.

His grip is too strong. It gives suddenly, unexpectedly.

The large metal door flies open.

Large chunks splash from the ceiling. They come thumping

to the floor, behind and in front of the open cabinet

door. MacReady coughs and waves away the dust. He peers

inside. Nothing much. some empty shelves. Some small

scientific gear.

His flashlight then locates a large photograph taped to

the inside of the cabinet door.

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