Tremors: A Cold Day in Hell

---

Whoever heard of a heatwave

in the Arctic?

Welcome to the new normal.

We're standing on a gigantic ice cap,

and it's 32 Fahrenheit.

Welcome to the Arctic summer.

Fahrenheit?

Wait, did you just use

that antiquated Imperial measurement?

Yeah, I did, Sweden.

I'm from Norway, A-hole.

Not Sweden!

YANKEE:
Is there

any difference?

You Americans! You're so out of step

with the rest of the world.

You're a scientist,

for God's sake.

Glaciologist.

You two knob jockeys

sound like a couple of Sheilas.

Let's get these core samples

and get back to the outpost.

(DOGS BARKING)

Guys, we hit something.

(WHIRRING)

This is some mean ice.

That's why they call it

the Old Cold!

Yeah, well, I reckon just

increase the bit speed.

Let's blast right through it.

Hey, guys?

I'm getting a seismic spike

in the ice.

Yeah, well, it's probably

just an isostatic rebound.

(SCANNER BEEPS)

Like hell, it is.

I'm getting a big-ass

magnetic anomaly on my screen.

Whatever it is, it's alive,

and it's big.

There are no big life forms

that live in solid ice.

Maybe the backscatter effect

brought up a rock formation.

Yeah, and maybe

it's the Easter Bunny!

This is not a rock, and it sure

as sh*t isn't the Easter Bunny.

Dumbass!

(RUMBLING)

(GRUNTS)

(DOGS HOWLING)

Check it out.

(CREATURE SHRIEKING)

Aussie!

(DOGS BARKING)

DUTCH:
Aussie? Aussie?

Aussie, do you copy?

(CREATURE GROWLS)

DUTCH:

What the hell?

- What...

- Get it out! Get it out!

Come on, get it out. Come on!

Come on! Come on! Come on, Yank!

(YELLS)

No! No!

(SCREAMING)

Yankee!

Yank!

(YANKEE'S SCREAMING ECHOES)

Yank?

No.

No!

(GRUNTING)

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(GROANING)

No!

(CHIMING)

(ALARM BLARES)

Really, Gummer?

A motion detector?

Perfection.

Man alive,

it's hot as balls out there!

Hands where I can

see them, partner.

Oh, gee-whiz, Gummer!

You know who I am!

It's me,

Special Agent Dalkwed.

Do it, Agent Dickweed.

Are you threatening

a federal officer?

That all depends, Taxman.

Sticks and stones.

Is that a pellet gun, Gummer?

You bet

your sweet ass it is!

Oh, since when

do you play with toys?

Since none of your damn business.

You armed?

Of course, I'm armed.

All Special Agents with

the United States Treasury are armed.

You know that.

Special Agent!

You're a bean counter.

This here is private property

in an open-carry state.

And you wouldn't happen

to have any financial interest

in said property,

now would you?

Nope! Go slap a lien

somewhere else.

Already have.

Hey.

I see you've changed teams.

Hmm?

No, just hats!

Well, it was a miracle

the Cubbies won that series.

And frankly, Gummer,

that's what you're gonna need,

a miracle.

'Cause right now,

your ass is in my hands.

Your point, Dickweed?

Your tax position has been

deemed frivolous by the IRS

and your property has hereby

been seized.

What? You can't!

I can, and I did!

The IRS owns you, Gummer,

until such time as we can arrange

for confiscation of any and all items

deemed suitable

for government auction.

You parasitic son of a b*tch!

Yeah, your...

(CHUCKLES)

Your well-endowed battery of firearms

might raise enough to make a dent

in your failure to file

penalties and interest.

I detect the odorous stench

of Schadenfreude, Agent Dickweed!

I will see you in court!

In court? Oh. Oh, no!

We're way past that, Gummer.

Way past.

Out of here!

Goodbye, Gummer.

And don't let the door

dislodge that poker up your ass!

Oh, I'll be really careful.

- TRAVIS:
Another satisfied customer?

- What?

Did you miss me?

Yeah, like a boil on my ass.

I see you got

the supply req.

Oh, yeah. That eighth text

was a charm.

"Hey, welcome home,

sonny boy!"

"Oh, good to see you."

"How long's it been?"

"Four or five weeks?" "Okay.

How'd the video shoot go?"

Fascist jackals!

Ooh, Government plates.

That can't be good.

Let me guess. IRS?

They've got no right to waltz in here

and seize a man's property.

Come on, Burt. You've been flipping off

the Feds longer than Wesley Snipes.

That's got to be a record.

This is the very thing that

sparked the Boston Tea Party.

BOTH:
No taxation

without representation!

It's a good thing Jodi decided

to stay at that law firm in Reno, huh?

- Lets you squat here?

- Nobody's squatting.

I'm managing the store now.

Really? Congratulations.

And I really love what

you've done with the place.

You really put the hyphen back

in anal-retentive. Jeez.

I can do

without the sarcasm, son.

Oh, come on, Burt.

Don't be hurt.

All right, now that I'm back,

let's hit that reset button, huh?

Put some fresh content

up on YouTube,

try and resurrect

that Bull's-Eye Brand.

Not doing prepper videos anymore.

My director quit on me.

No, he didn't.

He's right here.

I just had a small

mental health break.

What's up with that hat?

Wait a minute.

You change teams?

No, just hats!

Take it easy, Burt.

Look, I know you hate taking direction,

and my style's way too

improvisational for you, okay?

Lord, you're giving me

a headache.

Come on, Burt,

meet me in the middle.

Make sure you put $5

in that cash box.

For what?

That beer doesn't come free.

You're closing up?

Dude, it's not Miller time yet.

You can't find your beach.

Time for some shut-eye.

Since when do you "shut-eye"

in the middle of the afternoon?

Since you showed up!

You wonder why I go

to strip clubs!

What the hell happened here?

Something attacked them

from under the ice.

It can't be!

(ROARS)

(PHONE RINGING)

(GROANING)

Chang's.

(SCREAMS)

Yo, Burt! What's up?

Calisthenics.

Feel free to join in.

I think I'll pass.

You wanna earn your keep,

go stock some shelves.

I'd love to, but you've got

a phone call.

Take a message.

I tried,

but there's a lady

holding on the line,

who's got a very sexy

phone voice, by the way.

She told me to tell you

that they've got, uh...

I can't read my writing.

What does that word...

What does that say? That she's got, uh...

- Graboids? Where?

- Mr. Gummer?

Affirmative. Who's this?

Dr. Rita Sims. I'm calling

from Nunavut Province, Canada.

We're 67 degrees north.

- That's the Canadian Arctic.

- Yes, it is.

I'm the station leader of

an international research team.

We' re based at Bote Canyon.

How'd you get this number?

You from the government?

Is she hot?

Well, I have an associate

familiar with your work.

I think your associate

must be half a bubble off plumb.

That was my first reaction,

but she's actually very bright.

She knows a lot

about Graboid mythology.

Graboids are no myth,

but they're a desert phenomenon.

I think this is

a colossal time suck, Miss, uh...

Dr. Sims.

Graboids do not and cannot

exist in the Arctic, Dr. Sims!

- Impossible.

- Ask her if she's hot.

Improbable but not impossible.

- Who's this?

- This is Valerie.

First, let me say that,

as a major Graboid enthusiast,

I have admired your work

for years. Here's what I know.

Graboids are subterranean

worm-like predator

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