Total Recall Page #33

JACKSON Tatsumi...

HICKS Cocktail for ya, Tatsumi.

He opens the kit, takes out a gun-shaped hypo with a pressure tank.

HICKS (continuing) Can't get this on the Ginza, fella. Six times

stronger than heroin, about eight other things in there to keep you up

an' rockin'...

He jabs the needle through Tatsumi's pantleg; the unit HISSES.

HICKS (continuing) Get a Marine a year in the brig, playin' R&R with

one of these...

Tatsumi moan softly as the shot hits him. Very clearly, in Japanese, he

asks if it's time to go back on duty.

LAB TECH Wha'd he say?

SPENCE I don't know...

HICKS We'll have to carry him. (passes Spence a sterile dressing pack

from his harness) Think you can get a dressing on that? Not bleeding

much. Like it's cauterized. (to Rosetti) Get up, we're moving. (to

Jackson) Think you better hang on to the Colonel's rifle.

INT. MALL -- ENTERANCE TO FREIGHT ELEVATOR

The doors look as though someone's gone after them with a giant can

opener; they're ragged, gaping. Bishop's hands suddenly appear in the

opening in the floor, grip the edge; he hauls himself up, arms

quivering with strain. Last thing through is the useless leg; he has

to pull it up with both hands.

He looks anxiously out into the mall. Nothing moving, no Aliens in

sight. The queen's attack as torn loose a strip of alloy trim. Bishop

bends it double for strength and begins to work it beneath the belt

around his thigh, still keeping an eye on the mall.

INT. CORRIDOR TO ASSEMBLY POINT -- LIFEBOAT BAY

Hicks and Jackson slogging along, dragging Tatsumi between them, Spence

with the flare pistol, then Rosetti and the Lab Tech. Smoke hangs in

strata. Spence coughs. They're all feeling Anchorpoint's fire-depleted

oxygen-level. Tatsumi looks terrible: flushed, eyes glazed, but he's

feeling no pain. He weakly

attempts to sing a snatch of a Japanese pop song. CLOSEUP on his

bandaged leg leaving a trail of yellow drops...

LAB TECH That's right, man. Not long now.

HICKS Hey, Jackson -- Goddamn, you were right.

He's pointing his pulse-rifle at a plastic sign mounted on the corridor

wall:

LIFEBOAT BAY 20 METERS

JACKSON (grins) Sure. Hadda map, didn't I?

They round a corner. Ahead is one of the blue lights and another sign:

LIFEBOAT LAUNCH ASSEMBLY POINT

SPENCE The others groups... Where's everybody else?

HICKS Hell, they coulda launched already...

JACKSON No.

She's looking at a wall panel with LEDs that indicate launch status of

the lifeboats.

JACKSON (continuing) The boats are all here.

LAB TECH Then nobody else made it...

Rosetti ignores them, keeps walking.

JACKSON (looking after Rosetti) I shoulda greased him.

HICKS Sh*t. What's the point?

JACKSON The point? The point's he let 'em run their f***ing

experiments! He coulda stopped 'em! But he didn't! You tried, man, you

and Bishop... He let 'em do it!

HICKS Sh*t no. He's just brass. He's just like you an' me, to the

people who brought this down. Wouldn't do any good to grease them

either.

JACKSON Bullshit! What not?

HICKS Because what you wanna grease is the company...

Rosetti breaks into a stumbling run as he nears the portal at the end

of the corridor, the entrance to the lifeboat bays.

CLOSEUP -- ROSETTI

frantically punching a combination. Wants that door to open. Gets it:

slides back smooth as silk, revealing a brightly lit room filled with

pristine space gear and an indeterminate number of Aliens, their

appendages tangled black and shiny as a fresh catch of eels.

ROSETTI No! Goddamn it! No!

ANGLE:

The Aliens stir as he throws himself back down the corridor toward the

others. Hicks drops Tatsumi, who sags into Jackson's arms, and raises

his rifle. FIRES a bolt past Rosetti, into the heart of the mass.

Rosetti claws his way by as Spence lets loose with the flare-pistol.

All the ammo she has but it's a big red

distress flare straight through the portal; it bursts, crimson

lightning,

scattering the Aliens. Now everyone is backing down the corridor, the

way they came, Jackson burdened with Tatsumi. Rosetti fumbles with the

combination on another door. Hicks is SHOOTING as he retreats. Aliens

come darting out past the dying cherry brilliance of the flare,

SCREAMING down the corridor... The second door open for Rosetti --

he's through, the second Lab Tech on his heels.

INT. AN OFFICE

Dark -- only light from the corridor, even less are Rosetti immediately

tries to slam and lock the door in Spence's face -- but the Lab Tech

yanks him out of the way. The others tumble in, Jackson with Tatsumi

in a fireman's carry. Hicks kicks the door shut and locks it -- as

something SLAMS into it, hard. Jackson lowers Tatsumi to the carpeted

floor.

Hicks CLICKS the light on. Swings the muzzle of his gun around the

room, circle of light jumping from one thing to the next. An office,

larger than Rosetti's. 21st-century stylistics and a basic

bureaucratic banality: fake teak, imitation leather. Framed portraits

of beaming Weyland Yutani bigshots. Spence brushes a square object of

a shelf -- the base of a small hologram- projector. A glowing DNA

helix springs up.

HICKS Don't touch anything...

LAB TECH (to Jackson, pointing at Rosetti) He tried to lock the door,

lock us out...

JACKSON (pulling the automatic from her jacket) Rosetti...

HICKS Forget it. That's what he wants. You really wanna do 'im the

favor?

JACKSON Waddya mean it's what he wants?

HICKS I've seen it before. In combat.

Rosetti backs away from them.

SPENCE (V.O.) Hick, come here... I think it's Trent...

He finds her around the corner of a padded partition that screens a

desk- console from the rest of the room. His light finds the lab-

coated corpse sprawled in the chair behind the desk, a quarter of its

skull blown away, dried blood spattered across the bulkhead, a service

automatic locked in rigid fingers.

HICKS (shrugs) Did himself. Hey, Rosetti! C'mere!

Rosetti looks around the edge of the partition, sees Trent.

HICKS (continuing) That's it, man. That's what it looks like. You don't

chill out quick, somebody'll do the same for you.

ROSETTI (stares at the corpse) Brilliant man. Company man. Very...

ambitious.

Hicks takes the light off the corpse, plays it around the cubicle. A

shredder, empty file folders, a bulging plastic sack of shredded

documents.

HICKS Yeah...

Hicks swings the light across the wall behind Trent's desk.

SPENCE The wall, Hicks!

She's spooked him; the safety's off the pulse-rifle. But there's

nothing on the wall, only framed diplomas, and between them a few

stenciled letters...

SPENCE (continuing) Jesus Christ! It's a lock, Hicks! Airlock!

She clambers over the desk console, shoves the corpse out the way, and

tears the diplomas from the wall, revealing the outline of a hatch and

the stenciled notice:

EMERGENCY AIRLOCK - EXIT TO HULL-SECTOR 308

A CRASH from the corridor as Alien hurls itself against the door.

SPENCE (continuing) It's a chance! The only chance we've got! We get

out on the hull, cross to the boats. We can try to get into one that

way, from outside...

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