The Thing Page #5

It is a picture of five Norwegians, arm in arm, all

smiles, toasting each other. They are on either side of

the frozen block of ice, pridefully displaying it for the

camera. The block looks much thicker. Its interior

opaque.

MacReady looks to the block of ice and then back to the

photograph. He untapes it, pockets it and shuts the door.

An armless corpse swings into his face from behind the

closing door. Dislodged from the ceiling, the body and

MacReady go crashing to the floor.

CUT TO:

INT. U.S. OUTPOST - RECREATION ROOM

The loud beat of Warren Zevon's song, "The Werewolves of

London," can be heard throughout the compound. The room

is empty. Close on a video pong game, its ball of light

lazily traveling back and forth. The dog, its tail

wagging, its bandage on, walks by.

INT. KITCHEN

Zevon's record is blasting from Nauls' stereo. He skates

from the big walk-in freezer and plunks down a large side

of beef on the wood-cutting table to thaw. He skates from

pot to pan keeping time with his sounds.

He smells. Tastes. Adds a little something here, a touch

there. He clearly enjoys his work.

Station Manager Garry stops past the open door.

GARRY:

Turn that crap down, Nauls. You can

hear it all over the camp!

NAULS:

Oui, Bwana. Can do.

He skates over and turns it down, but not much.

INT. COMMUNICATIONS ROOM

Garry enters and sees that Sanchez has nodded off in front

of his receiver. His headgear is still on. Garry walks

over and turns up the volume, the static jolting Sanchez

awake.

SANCHEZ:

Hey, man...!

GARRY:

You reach anybody yet?

SANCHEZ:

We're a thousand miles from anybody

else, man. It's going to get a hell

of a lot worse before it gets

better.

GARRY:

Well, stick to it.

INT. COMPOUND CORRIDOR

An empty hallway. Larger than most. Doors to several

sleeping quarters on either side. The dog slowly walks

through.

One of the doors is open up ahead of his left. The dog

stops in front of it and looks in. Someone is inside.

Inside the small cubicle, a slight portion of a man's back

can be seen as he sits bent over a chair; his large shadow

displayed on the wall.

Back in the corridor. The dog looks up the hall once and

casually to the other end. No one. He enters the room.

The sound of a man's voice, too indistinct to tell whose,

mumbles:

MAN'S VOICE

Hello boy.

A beat.

The sound of a glass breaking. A muffled scuffling. The

door is slammed shut from the inside. And then silence.

CUT TO:

EXT. COMPOUND

Fuchs, the young biologist, is finishing up his daily jog

around the compound. He stops at the end of a long

Quonset hut almost completely buried in the snow. The hut

is fifty yards long and connects to the main compound. He

enters a tunnel from a latch door up top.

INT. TUNNEL

He jogs down the steps, passing the underground dog kennel

and trots toward the compound through the long narrow

tunnel. He passes and waves to Clark, who rolls along a

wheelbarrow of dog food.

CLARK:

opens the door to the small kennel and serves up the

dinner. The dogs, about seven of them, yelp and bark

eagerly.

INT. UNDERGROUND PASSAGEWAY

near the fuel supply bladders. Older and more rickety

than the quarters above.

Childs waltzes through, humming, a big smile on his face.

He stops at a door with six locks on it. Different kinds.

Combination locks, key locks, etc. He opens each one

separately.

INT. STORAGE ROOM

Inside are several marijuana plants. Sun lamps beam down

on them. Childs inspects them with a wide grin.

CHILDS:

How my brothers and sister doing

today? Doin' fine.

He moves over to a tape deck, selects a cassette, grins

back at the plants and turns it on.

CHILDS:

What say to some nice Al Green for

my babies, huh?

He waters them carefully, as Al Green sings softly. He

hears a panting and turns around to see the dog. His

bandage is gone.

CHILDS:

What you...? You get the hell on

out of here.

The dog is shooed off. Childs turns back grumbling.

CHILDS:

... Comin' in here... goin' to

urinate on my babies.

INT. MAIN COMPOUND - HALLWAY

Blair passing through, holding a chart and carrying a rack

of test tubes, notices a large bandage on the floor. He

picks it up, inquiringly. It is mangled and shredded.

INT. GENERATOR ROOM

Palmer works on the generator. He hears the sound of

approaching propeller blades from outside. And then the

sound of his tool box crashing to the floor. He turns to

see what caused the ruckus.

The dog, who has entered the shed, has jumped on the work

table and upended the tool box on its eagerness to look

out of the above window. Palmer curses under his breath

and calls out.

PALMER:

Clark! Will you kennel this goddamn

dog?

(bangs wrench

against pipe)

Hey, Clark?!

THE DOG:

It paws at the window and watches as the chopper, carrying

MacReady and Dr. Copper, fights against the newly arrived

heavy winds and lands safely.

INT. STATION MANAGER GARRY'S QUARTERS

Garry, MacReady, Dr. Copper, Norris, Bennings, Blair and

his assistant, Fuchs, are present. The small Norwegian

video unit has been set up and its contents are being

viewed on a TV screen. Grainy, home movie-ish, no sound.

The proceedings are grim.

Shots of the Norwegian's at work. Others of them playing

soccer on ice. Generally the footage is a prosaic record

of their day-to-day life.

Norris shuffles the bundle of notes Dr. Copper brought

back with him.

NORRIS:

... Seems they were spending a lot

of time at a place four miles

northeast of their camp.

GARRY:

What were they involved in?

MacReady, working on the video machine, answers.

MACREADY:

Little ice core drilling... some

seismology... glaciology... same old

sh*t we do.

The present footage is a shot of them all naked and

probably drunk, holding a sign across their waists as they

stand outdoors in super-freezing weather.

BENNINGS:

How much more of this crap is there?

DR. COPPER

About nine more hours.

BENNINGS:

We can't learn anything from this.

DR. COPPER

Probably right.

MacReady turns on the light and shuts off the video

machine. He then slides the portable tape deck across the

table to Dr. Copper. They exchange a look.

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