Total Recall Page #25

CLOSE ON ONE OF THE ALIEN CULTURES

as it bursts, disintegrates into a film of slime lost behind a storm of

bubbles. The lab's ALARM system goes off. The doors slide open as three

MARINES cover Hicks and Bishop with handguns.

MARINES Just don't you f***ing move, Jack.

Hicks stonefaces the Marines. Then cracks a grin.

INT. DETENTION UNIT

Hicks and Bishop, in white plastic "medical restraints" (like arm and

leg- irons) precede the grim-faced Marines along a corridor and are

thrown into separate cells.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. THE BUBBLE

Meeting of Anchorpoint's full directorate, including Welles and Fox,

Jackson, and a number of new faces. Welles is white-lipped with fury.

JACKSON They knew the code, didn't they? The code for the door...

FOX You got it, Ops. And they knew just where to go which button to

push to poach our eggs for us, didn't they? Struggling with an idea,

Ops? Think it may even have been an inside job?

JACKSON You're a Grade A Company prick, aren't you, mister?

(Her b*tch truckdriver side; a tough lady, used to taking a lot of

life-or- death responsibility in her job.)

WELLES The Anchorpoint phase of the project is terminated, Rosetti.

You'll keep Hicks and the android in solitary until they can return

with us to Gateway to stand trial for treason.

TRENT The Anchorpoint phase? What do you mean? We have no more material

to work with...

FOX You have no more material to work with, Trent. In any case, it's

become obvious that you aren't quiet the man for the job. We took the

precaution of obtaining our own samples. They're on their way to

Gateway.

WELLES (with cold satisfaction) ... and everything, every move each of

you have made, since our arrival, is going to be gone over with a fine

toothed c-c-c-c--

As Welles begins to stammer, her eyes betray a terrible consternation.

She rises from her chair, lurches forward, catching herself on her

hands. The C-C-C-C-C phases into a chattering palsy as a thick strand

of blood-streaked drool descends toward the table. Fox, seated to her

left, has instinctively shoved his own chair back, ready to run.

Everyone else is frozen with shock.

As the chittering tooth-burr becomes a shrill SHRIEK of inhuman rage,

the

transformation takes place. Segmented biomechanoid tendons squirm

beneath the skin of her arms. Her hands claw at one another, tearing

redundant flesh from alien talons. Then the shriek dies. She

straightens up.

And, rips her face apart in a single movement, the glistening claws

coming away with skin, eyes, muscle, teeth, and splinters of bone...

SOUND of ripping cloth. The New Beast sheds its human skin in a single

sinuous, bloody ripple, molting on fast forward.

An instant of utter silence as the featureless mask moves. From side to

side. Scanning.

Trent vomits explosively. The Marine guard snatches his pistol from its

holster and FIRES wildly across the table. Blind screaming chaos.

OVERHEAD SHOT:

as the directorate plunges, like a single panicked organism, to the far

side of the bubble. The thing is on Fox before he can get up from his

chair.

CLOSE:

On his scream as the sucking, fanged tongue plunges through the orbit

of his eye.

ANGLE:

A Marine with a flamethrower bursts through the door, torching Fox and

the New Beast, setting fire to the bubble's acoustic foam baffles.

INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE TULLY'S SLEEPING CUBICLE

Spence is coming down the corridor, carrying a clear plastic bag of

styrofoam food containers. Nobody else in sight. She look tired, but

not particularly worried. She reaches the door to his cubicle. Thumps

on it with the heal of her hand.

SPENCE Tully! Hey! Open up.. Got you some food...

No reply. She thumps again, then punches the combination (the lock look

like a telephone key-pad). Door opens. Dark inside.

SPENCE (continuing) Tully? You sleeping?

She climbs in. Dark. Very. A red LED glows on the phone console. She

crawls through the detritus of Tully's housekeeping and fumbles with

the lights. Can't find the switch.

SPENCE Tully?

Lights CLICK on. Nobody there. Nothing. Looks even messier then she

last saw it. She sighs, puts the bag of food on a ledge, scoops up a

mound of dirty cloths off the pillow in an automatic cleaning-up

gesture. And sees Tully's lab badge. Picks it up.

CLOSE ON THE BADGE

The contamination indicator strip is red.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. DETENTION CELL

Hicks sitting on the narrow bunk. Door opens. One of the Marines who

arrested his in the lab; he wears combat armor now.

HICKS What's your problem, bud? Got a war on?

The Marine steps back, admitting a haggard Rosetti.

ROSETTI Get up, Hicks. We need you in the Ops Room.

HICKS We didn't kill it.

ROSETTI No. It killed Fox and Welles...

INT. TUNNEL, CONSTRUCTION ZONE

Small vehicle WHINES TOWARD US through puddles of condensation: a

skeletal electric motor-jeep with heavy roll bars, scratched and paint-

scarred. Walker driving. Hick behind him in partial combat armor and

communication rig, cradling a pulse-rifle.

Walker is pushing it, driving fast; the jeep bounces and sways,

skitters around a corner. Into the gloom of the big construction

chamber. Halts.

HICKS (into mouthpiece) Gimme a read.

JACKSON (V.O.) (from headset) You're close. Hang a left.

HICKS Is he moving?

JACKSON No...

Walker swing the jeep around and they roll toward a narrow gap between

massive stacks of geodesic struts.

INT. OPS ROOM

Jackson studies a simulator screen; a moving cursor, the Jeep,

navigates a 3D grid-representation of the construction zone.

JACKSON No left again.

The cursor turns. Nears a blinking red dot.

Spence, drawn and anxious, looks over Jackson's shoulder. Bishop and

Rosetti are beside her.

SPENCE You're sure it's him?

JACKSON It's his locator frequency, isn't it? No two alike. Surgically

implanted. Just like yours...

SPENCE (gnaws at her lip) He's not moving...

ROSETTI Why would he go down there?

BISHOP The badge. He knew that he's been infected...

SPENCE Scared. He's scared. (shudders) Tully...

INT. CONSTRUCTION CHAMBER

Dark. The Jeep creeps along between stacks of prefab hull units,

emerges into a open space, junctions of several corridors. The deck is

an inch deep in water.

JACKSON (V.O.) He's there! You're right on top of him!

Walker stops the jeep. Hicks stands up, plays the beam of a flashlight

around the area. Presses the mute button on his headset.

HICKS (bellows) Tully! Tully! Yo!

ECHO. DRIP of water.

Hicks clips the flashlight beneath the barrel of his gun and jumps

down. Reflections ripple as he moves forward. Swings the beam along the

surface -- something there... The logo-patches down a sleeve of

Tully's ruptured, blood-soaked leather jacket. Drifting shred of human

tissue...

JACKSON (V.O.) Can you see him?

HICKS Yeah.

And the thing that was Tully launches itself from the top of one of the

stacks of construction material. Lands on top of the jeep, going for

Walker, through the roll bars.

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