| M i M i C | 专题辅导
 推荐资源
 英语影音范听 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
点击进入论坛 |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 日期：2006-8-8 20:51:52 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 3个月讲一口流利英语，100%保证！点击进入 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
M i M i C
a revision
by
Matt Greenberg
and
Guillermo del Toro
June 19th 1996
FADE IN:
THE SCREEN
Stygean darkness.
Wet CLICKING SOUNDS. A BEAM of purplish ULTRA-VIOLET LIGHT
reveals a mosaic of moving forms... COCKROACHES. They skitter
restlessly under the beam's intensity. SERIES OF SHOTS -- the
UV Beam passing over various parts of the space. Pipe webs,
walls, girders -- all covered with the insects. Thousands of
them.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
INT. SEWER SYSTEM
Innards of steel. A vast maze of tunnels.
A GROUP OF FIGURES advances through the tunnels with handheld
UV lamps.
The figures are dressed in gray air-tight NEOPRENE SUITS,
their faces hidden by skin tight MASKS and bug-like NIGHT
VISION GOGGLES. In the dense silence, respirator valves HISS-
CLICK at the corner of their lips in mechanical rhythm.
The scene has a dream-like, choreographed quality.
NIGHT-VISION POV
Eerie, aquatic green. The horde of insects appear to be some
kind of sea-life, crawling over the floor of a dead ocean.
THE TEAM OF FIGURES
From their midst appears another FIGURE, its neoprene suit a
flat WHITE. Female, clearly the TEAM LEADER.
She carries a stainless steel CONTAINER filled with twenty
small compartments, each bearing a large, heavy-shelled roach
with a different BARCODE on their back.
JUDAS ROACHES.
She kneels and opens the
CASE
TCHK!! A dozen of the Judas roaches are released. They slide
through into the area.
THE NEARBY ROACHES
react instantaneously. In a rustle of tiny legs, they begin
to stream toward the Judases.
Jostle and fight each other for position to mate with them.
They even crawl over the Team Leader in an effort to reach
the Judases. The Team Leader makes no effort to brush them
off. Patient, almost godlike, she watches the MATING.
LATER
A MANHOLE has been opened above. CHAINS are dropped down and
attached by a Team Member to A 100-GALLON DISPOSAL DRUM.
REVEAL the floor of the tunnel, carpeted with the still forms
of the roaches, now all DEAD.
The Team Members quietly shovel the tiny corpses into other
disposal drums.
At their feet skitter the only survivors of the massacre:
the bar-coded Judas Roaches.
In a crunch of machinery, the first disposal drum is lifted
by the chains through the manhole to
EXT. A CITY STREET - DAY
MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. A cacophony of SOUND and LIGHT.
Dirty snow drifts over Bryant Park. Emergency lights blink
everywhere. A wall of cars sits on Sixth Avenue, stopped
dead. Exhaust fumes hang in the air. Jaded TRAFFIC COPS send
the cars on crosstown detours.
Mounted policemen patrol a line of yellow sawhorses near
dozens of Department of Public Health vehicles, angle-parked
in a military phalanx.
A monumental ribcage-like scaffolding has been erected in the
middle of the street, "sealing" the area with amber plastic.
Inside, UNIFORMED WORKERS take the disposal drum of roaches
and toss it into one of a number of huge DUMPSTERS.
The Team Leader watches from nearby, exhauster. Her mask is
off. We see her face: Enthomologist SUSAN WYETH, 28.
An ARM gently drapes over her shoulder.
PETER (OS)
How we doing?
She looks over at DR. PETER TYLER, 34, bespectacled. A
HEADSET around his neck, a coat emblazoned with the
DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH logo. He has the look of a man who's
just fought a long battle and come out victorious.
SUSAN
We'll see...
He offers her a bite of a PAY DAY CANDYBAR. Susan smiles,
shakes her head. She wearily leans against him.
Peter looks out as the dumpster filled with roaches is raised
by MECHANICAL ARMS into the waiting maw of the dump truck.
THE SCREEN. DARKNESS.
A voice, a somber bas-relief in the darkness.
ANCHORMAN (VO)
Strickler's Disease crept into Manhattan
like a thief in the night, claiming its
first hundred victims before it was even
classified.
INT. HOSPITAL - NIGHT - FLOATING SHOT
We FLOAT through a long hospital ward.
Past ROWS of illuminated oxygen tents, pulsating softly in
the dark like cocoons of light.
ANCHORMAN (VO)
Most were children under ten.
TRACK past tents. BODIES OF SMALL CHILDREN inside, wrapped
in white sheets, hooked up to IVs or breathing apparatus.
Skeletal hands, parched lips, glazed eyes.
BELLOWS of respirators push in and out, labored, failing.
IMAGE RESOLVES TO A VIDEO ON A SCREEN.
PULL BACK to reveal a number of SCREENS, each with a
different set of images. We are in a NEWS VAN. A
TECHNICIAN and DIRECTOR sit watching.
The voice belongs to an ANCHORMAN who's now overimposed.
ANCHORMAN
Only after the numbers had reached into
the thousands were officials able to
identify the carrier of the deadly
infection...
DIRECTOR
Cut to three.
The Technician manipulates the controls. On another screen
we see them cut to STOCK NEWS FOOTAGE: regular cockroaches,
crawling on garbage.
ANCHORMAN
Blattida Germanica. The common
cockroach.
DIRECTOR
(To a RUNNER)
Tell them we're ready for a live feed.
EXT. OUTSIDE VAN - CITY HALL - DUSK
The runner exits the News Van. Other such vehicles parked
nearby. A CROWD of ONLOOKERS, REPORTERS and a gaggle of
PROTESTERS with handpainted signs.
Gliding past them, we pick up sound bites...
REPORTER 1
...an insect that has proven virtually
immune to chemical control...
REPORTER 2
...the announcement by the Health
Department that an end to the nightmare
has finally...
REPORTER 3 is interviewing a Greenpeace PROTESTER who is
holding up a photograph of Susan.
REPORTER 3
...an ex-colleague of Doctor Susan
Wyeth...
PROTESTER
...Susan has always been opposed to
biological tampering. A real advocate
for ecological causes, it's not...
MOVE past them to further inside of the perimeter...
INT. AUDITORIUM - CITY HALL
A NEWS CONFERENCE in progress. A packed house. T.V.
monitors spaced ever 10 seats or so. In the audience, the
MAYOR OF NEW YORK and various CITY OFFICIALS, listening to
Peter, speaking at the podium with the ease and enthusiasm of
a public servant still untainted by bureaucracy.
ON A TV MONITOR
While Peter talks, a news title appears at the bottom of the
screen: PETER TYLER. DEPUTY DIRECTOR, DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH.
PETER
(wrapping up)
...in Nature, evolution is a long,
leisurely conversation between an
organism and its environment. We,
however, did not have the luxury of
time...
Susan is waiting in the wings. She observes the audience.
She notices that the entire front row is composed of CHILDREN
who have survived Strickler's. Leg and arm braces, facial
scarring...
He nods at Susan, who takes the podium, adjusting her jacket,
slightly ill at ease in her business suit. She clears her
throat, speaks softly.
SUSAN
With the aid of genetic labs throughout
the country, we recombined cockroach DNA
with genetic information from termites
and mantids. We were able to create a
biological counter-agent. A new ally, if
you will...
She places a clear container on the podium for all to see.
SUSAN
Blattida Traditor.
CU CONTAINER
One of the Judas roaches skitters about in the container.
SUSAN (OS)
The "Judas Roach".
Cameras FLASH. MURMURS from the audience.
SUSAN
The Judas is a non-carrier of Stricklers,
with a short life-span and heightened
pheromone emission.
On the back row she can see some ecological hand-painted
signs being raised in silent protest. She stumbles for a
second, then resumes her speech.
SUSAN
The female is basically a sexual magnet;
common males travelled miles and fought
for the right to mate with them.
The audience is rapt.
SUSAN
When they did, they took away something
else we added -- a hormone, passed
through sexual congress that causes their
metabolism to go into overdrive. No
matter what their food intake, they
starved to death in a matter of hours.
Now Peter takes the mic.
PETER
We've achieved almost total eradication
of the roach population. As of today,
the disease has been officially
contained.
A STANDING OVATION starts and is carried on as we...
CUT TO:
INT. TYLER APARTMENT - BATHROOM - SUSAN
in a tub in a dark bathroom. Her business suit crumpled
on the bathroom floor. SOUND of a TV outside.
PETER (OS)
Sus, come on. You're missing it.
INT. LIVING ROOM
Nothing grand. Peter in his shorts at a TV with shitty
reception. He adjusts the disgruntled cable box.
He is seen over the TV, giving his address.
PETER
Fucking thing! I hope someone's taping
this.
(Out.)
Susan, come on. It's really good this
time. I got most of the lines out.
(No response.)
Sus?
Peter sighs. He picks up an open bottle of champagne and
two mis-matched ceramic cups, then heads for the bathroom.
INT. BATHROOM
PETER
Life's a bitch. Our 15 minutes came
and went and all we got was bad
cable...
Susan doesn't answer, clearly not in the same high spirits.
PETER
Hiding from the hard glare of publicity?
He notices her crumpled garment on the floor. He picks it
up, puts it up on the hanger.
PETER
A shame. You looked great tonight.
SUSAN
Please.
PETER
You did!
He sits by the tub.
SUSAN
Do you think we did the right thing?
PETER
Taking a cab instead of hiring a limo?
SUSAN
You know what I mean...
Peter pours some champagne into the cups.
SUSAN
We did no impact evaluation. The
consequences of...
PETER
(sighs)
Is this a Catholic guilt thing...?
We hear a NEWSREADER on the TV.
NEWSREADER (TV)
...a flawless strategy which has stopped
a potential epidemic in its tracks...
PETER
You hear that? Flawless.
SUSAN
We just don't know.
He offers one cup to Susan. She doesn't take it.
PETER
We know we saved lives.
He sits closer to her.
PETER
There're gonna be a lot of kids running
around next year because of you.
Beat. Susan starts to relax. He kisses her.
PETER
Who know? We get lucky, maybe a couple
of 'em'll be ours.
SUSAN
(smiling now)
We're down to a "couple" now, huh?
She pats the water, beckoning.
PETER
Oh, I don't know. People are beginning
to talk about us...
Still partially clothed, he steps into the bathtub. Susan
shakes her head, laughs ruefully.
SUSAN
Don't worry, I'll save your honor.
Maybe I'll even marry you.
She reaches over, kisses him.
FADE OUT:
FADE IN TO:
EXT. ALPHABET CITY - NIGHT
The WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE dimly visible through the rain.
ALPHABET CITY STREETS
Empty warehouses. Closed businesses. Traffic lights blinking
on empty streets. Everything seems doomed under the heavy
layer of rain.
SUPERIMPOSE: TWO YEARS LATER
A DILAPIDATED BUILDING before us. A blazing NEON CROSS made
of the words 'JESUS SAVES' hangs askew from its facade.
CRANE to see the ROOFTOP.
WHAM! The door to the interior stairs FLIES OPEN and a tall,
thin CHINESE PREACHER in his sixties lurches out, eyes wild
with terror.
He looks back down the steps.
Something's climbing up fast, casting ominous, complex
shadows on the wall.
Too many FOOTSTEPS for it to be just one person.
The man hurriedly shuts the door and slides a bolt home.
Trembling, he backs away as a booming THUD makes the door
shudder. Raw, frenzied pounding and scratching follows...
something inhuman, determined to break through.
The metal surface suddenly buckles and bulges.
On the man's white undershirt, a blotch of blood starts to
grow. Needles of rain stab his flesh.
He searches wildly for a possible escape.
He reaches the edge of the roof: it's five floors down to the
sidewalk.
Two of the hinges on the door come loose, pulverizing the
surrounding concrete.
WHAM! The door to the stairs bulges outward as something
SMASHES against it again and again. Frenzied SCRATCHING.
The man sprints to the other end of the roof. There, on the
adjoining building...
THE CHINESE PREACHER'S POV
Just one floor below on the building across the alley is a
suspended PAINTERS' PLATFORM, crowded with paint cans under a
tarp. A two-story old EYEWEAR ADVERTISEMENT from the 40's is
being painted over.
THE CHINESE PREACHER
Looks back to the door. BAM! a tremendous SHATTERING sound.
LIGHT spills from inside. Two bolts fly in the air, a hinge
gives.
He CRIES OUT in terror.
The man gauges the distance between buildings; can he make
it?
He takes a few steps back, a few more...
Panting hard, he closes his eyes, his chest soaked in blood
and rain.
THE DOOR EXPLODES OUTWARD AND SKIDS ACROSS THE SLIPPERY ROOF.
Light from inside projects the shadow of wild, busy things
onto the curtain of rain.
Weeping with fear, the man desperately tries to hurl himself
to the catwalk.
It's too far.
He FALLS...CRASH! he hits the platform, knocking boards
loose and sending paint cans onto their sides, rolling. He
bounces, slides off the edge, barely able to grab onto a
loose board to save himself from falling.
The RAIN blasts down. The scaffold CREAKS. He hits the
edge, upsetting the cans of paint there.
He holds onto the planks with all his might, trying to push
with his feet, but they slide on the wet wall.
BELOW
Cans bounce off the pavement. White pain blasts all over.
CU HANDS
The man's hands slip on the planks, tiring.
FEET
The Chinese Preacher's FEET bicycle in the air, unable to
find a purchase on the wet brick wall-
THE CHINESE PREACHER
is hanging just in front of the painted EYE of the forties'
model. He looks up above him, sees something-
CHINESE PREACHER
No. Please, God, no!
A SHADOW crosses his face as something looms above him.
Suddenly there is a CRACK and the platform tilts completely
on one end.
HANDS
The Chinese Preacher's fingernails dig in, then slip on the
wet wood.
His hands paw the air.
WIDER
For a moment his body, silhouetted in the rain, seems
suspended in a void. Then he falls backwards.
THE GROUND
Impact. His body cracks the pavement.
Small pools of rain form on his dead, open eyes.
We CRANE to reveal
A WINDOW ON A BUILDING ACROSS THE STREET
CHUY, a young Latino boy. He stares out the window at the
Chinese Preacher's body with no discernable emotion.
He works a small WIRE SCULPTURE in his hands.
APARTMENT
It's a small one-bedroom apartment.
An old man sleeps peacefully on a cot: Chuy's grandfather.
MANNY GAVIOLA, mid 60's, white hair haloes his handsome,
benign face.
All around him: SHOES, shoes everywhere you look, on the
table, on the chairs, on the kitchen counter, on the floor.
A small altar is illuminated by votive candles. Next to it,
standing by the window is
CHUY
HIS P.O.V.
We see a blurry vision of The Chinese Preacher's splayed
figure in a swirl of color.
Chuy's attention focuses on the Preacher's shoes.
CHUY
CHUY
(a whisper)
Oxfords, 8 1/2. Black...
He looks away from the body and goes back to twisting the
wire into shape.
THE PUDDLE OF PAINT
around the preacher, reflects large shadows moving above,
and across the neon sign...
CHUY
hears a strange sound, a rhythmic clicking.
His head lifts and what he sees causes his expression to
change--there is an uncharacteristic flicker of excitement in
his eyes.
ACROSS THE ROOFTOP
We are behind whatever it is that has captured Chuy's
attention.
TICKETY-TACKETY-TOCK...
The strange clicking sound grows louder. The figure begins
moving in some weird, preparatory fashion. Then it steps
forward and drops out of frame.
CHUY
His eyes follow the figure down to the pavement in a slow
arc.
Chuy puts down the wire miniature and opens the window to get
a better view.
GROUND LEVEL
The Chinese Preacher's body is now being dragged toward the
rear of the alley, leaving colored paint smears in its wake.
CHUY
We isolate the boy's face and, on the soundtrack, every other
noise FADES AWAY.
Chuy reaches for a pair of SPOONS nearby.
He begins to click them together.
Imitating the strange clicking sound heard a moment ago.
THE CHINESE PREACHER
is being pulled into a small, ground-level vent. The only
problem is that no human is small enough to squeeze through
this hole.
CHUY
watches, still clicking with his spoons.
THE CHINESE PREACHER'S BODY
is stuck. One of his legs is through the hole up to the
thigh, but the other is folded up unnaturally and pressing
against the wall next to the vent. Impossible.
There is a silent beat, and then a series of INCREDIBLY
VIOLENT TUGS, BAM! BAM! BAM! shaking the Paint-soaked body
like a rag doll.
CHUY
His spoons stop. His jaw tightens a little as we hear
terrible cracking and scraping sounds.
THE WINDOW
The Chinese Preacher's head and hands disappear into the
hole. Bits of clothing, paint and blood stick to the edges of
the opening.
CHUY
watches, still fascinated.
CHUY
(very low)
Funny, funny shoes...
He starts a new wire sculpture.
CUT TO:
EXT. JOGGING PATH - CENTRAL PARK - DAWN
Peter is covered in sweat, running at a good clip around the
Central Park reservoir. A beautiful day dawns behind him; the
windows of the Beresford sparkle in the morning sun.
Peter outperforms most of the other RUNNERS in the track, his
steady rhythm evidence of years of practice. Keeping his
stride, he runs off the track and past a flock of OLD NUNS.
PETER
Excuse me, ladies...
Without slowing down, Peter retakes the path and moves past
them.
EXT. JOGGER'S PATH - NEAR FIFTH AVENUE - LATER
Peter finally slows down. He checks his pulse and stops at a
water fountain.
As he drinks, he sees a DERELICT drawing a figure on the
sidewalk.
The derelict spots Peter. He picks up his chalk, drifts off.
Intrigued, Peter goes closer to the drawing. An arrow points
to a manhole cover set among the bushes.
Peter circles around, trying to make sense out of the lines.
Then the painted motif finally reveals itself.
GRAFFITI
A talismanic figure of raw, archetypal power. A few jagged
lines form the shape of a MAN IN AN OVERCOAT. His face is
little more than a malignant blotch.
CUT TO:
INT. MUSEUM - EXHIBIT ROOM - DAY
A room of half-finished exhibits. A group of SCULPTORS --
most of them undergraduates -- work on a gigantic piece
representing a termite mound. They're supervised by SIRI, a
punkish young Indian research assistant.
Susan talks to some of the sculptors about a 100-1 scale
clay model of an insect's head. She gestures to the
model's mandible set.
SUSAN
...no, guys, these have to fit
perfectly. No spaces in between. Let
me tell you why. Insects have no
hands. All they have is this set of
mandibles.
She grabs the outer mandible set.
SUSAN
See? This little piggy will grab the
prey.
Then unfolds a second set...
SUSAN
Then this little piggy will tear it
in half...
And a third!!!
SUSAN
...and this little one will grind it
to a pulp and push it in... all the
way into the mouth. These are
precision tools here. Can you
remember that?
The guys nod.
SUSAN
Good. Then get it right.
A piece of the termite mound is raised above their heads,
revealing...
...Peter, at the entrance, still dressed in his jogging
sweats. He smiles at Susan.
CUT TO:
EXHIBITS
Peter and Susan walk through. Peter pulls something from a
KNAPSACK. A bottle of medicine marked: METALLININ.
PETER
(teasing)
"Baby in a bottle..."
He gives it to Susan.
SUSAN
Don't tease.
Around them, WORKMEN begin unloading crates of display stuff,
as a MAN on a ladder tacks up an "ARCHITECTS OF NATURE"
banner. Susan proceeds behind an exhibit representing a
honeycomb. Peter follows as she begins to arrange some tools.
PETER
You know where they get this
fertility stuff? They extract it
from the urine of menopausal Italian
nuns.
SUSAN
(laughs)
Monks bottle their own wine. Don't
they?
She gently touches her belly.
SUSAN
Trust me. I've never been this late.
Never.
She shakes the bottle.
SUSAN
If nun's pee is what it takes...
Peter's cellular RINGS from his knapsack. Susan grabs a
larvae model from a pile on the floor.
SUSAN
You were the one who ran around with
ice in his underwear, don't forget
that.
PETER
Don't get kinky here...
Peter takes the call. Susan cuts away the excess plastic on
the lid around the honeycomb moldings. The larvae fits
perfectly inside.
PETER
Okay, meet me out front.
(to Susan)
I gotta go. Josh's picking me up in five.
see you tonight.
SUSAN
I'll be late.
He kisses her and leaves. Susan turns to Siri and the group
working on that sculpture.
SUSAN
Siri, sandblast that thing. It looks
like Trump Tower. Those mounds are
supposed to be made of dirt and
excretions...
SIRI
(a wicked smile)
Just like Trump Tower, then.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET
A Department of Health VAN honks its way through a traffic
jam.
INT. VAN
Peter's right hand man, JOSH MASLOW -- a young, good-natured,
can-do guy -- drives.
JOSH
...So I say "buddy, you have every
violation in the book. Gimme one
good reason not to close you down."
You know what the Kraut says to me?
In the back, Peter finishes changing out of his jogging
sweats and into his worksuit.
JOSH
The blintzes! "Try the blintzes..."
PETER
(distractedly)
Selling your sould for a fistful of
carbohydrates...
JOSH
Not just any carbohydrates, mind you.
It was like being on the receiving
end of some kind of transcendent oral
sex.
(honks furiously)
We should get a strobe on this thing.
Maybe even a siren.
PETER
Yeah, and a loudspeaker so you can
yell "Epidemic! Epidemic! You're all
going to die!"
EXT. FLOPHOUSE - DAY
The Department of Health van pulls up outside the flophouse
where the Chinese Preacher died. Peter and Josh get out.
COPS push back a few ONLOOKERS. Josh proudly flashes his DOH
badge.
JOSH
Health Department...
The cops let them pass.
PETER
You really love flashing that thing,
don't you?
JOSH
Hey. I'm a short guy. Waddaya want?
Two cops -- WOYCHEK and RICE -- approach, in no real hurry.
PETER
Peter Tyler, DOH. You gentlemen were
the first on the scene?
WOYCHEK
(gestures to Rice)
We were both on patrol, saw this paint
mess. Then I looked through that cellar
window. We both did...
PETER
You gone in?
WOYCHEK
No. We waited.
PETER
Good.
Peter peeks through a narrow cellar window on the floor.
Through the oily, smeared window, a ghostly array of PALE
FACE AND HANDS appears, startling him.
PETER
(to Josh)
Get the EMT's in there, now.
CUT TO:
LATER
PARAMEDIC AMBULANCES rush in. Sirens at full blast.
Stepping out of the building across, Manny walks next to
Chuy, who holds his hand. The old man carries a box full of
shoes.
Chuy looks back at the cop circus, amused.
MANNY
C'mon Chuy, we're gonna be late.
(discreetly crossing himself)
Cops are bad news. Don't look at them.
He gently pulls his grandson's hand and moves briskly away.
JOSH
uses an iron bar, and breaks a padlocked cellar door. A heavy
stench emanates from inside. The cops cover their noses.
INT. CELLAR
Peter and Josh enter a dingy, dungeon-like cellar,
illuminated only by bug zappers and emergency lights. Every
door and window has been nailed shut or sports a heavy-duty
padlock. Peter and Josh walk through the dismal scene.
In sharp contrast with the dirt-smeared walls, we see shiny
metallic SEWING MACHINES and swatches of cloth appliqued with
a FUNNY BUNNY cartoon character.
Josh examines the label stitched into the collar. It reads:
PROUDLY MADE IN USA.
PETER
Jesus.
His light hits a group of quivering, skeletal CHINESE
IMMIGRANTS, standing in a tight group against a wall.
WOYCHEK
(from the outside)
They look real sick, don't they?
CUT TO:
INT. STAIRWELL, MUSEUM - DUSK
Carrying boxes full of terrarium material, Susan and Siri
ride an antiquated cage-steel elevator. No floor buttons,
just an old-fashioned hand-activated lever.
SUSAN
...as long as they're ready for the
opening I don't care, just tell them
that.
SIRI
I'm on it. Don't worry.
(Beat)
Look, Susan...I don't mean to pry,
but... I kinda overheard you and
Peter.
SUSAN
(Smiles ironically)
Watch your step, Siri. Your grant
could be on the line here.
SIRI
I just...well, I had this cousin in
Delhi. She was having problems, too.
She, ah...
SUSAN
What?
SIRI
She used a baster.
Susan looks at her.
SIRI
Not a big one. I mean, it was like a
turkey baster.
SUSAN
Oh, Jesus.
She tries to stop the elevator at the fourth floor, but
it rises just a little too far.
SUSAN
Come on, darlin'...
Susan has to jimmy the lever till the elevator falls
level to the floor.
SIRI
(continues)
She kept it under her bed. Thing is,
it kinda worked. I mean, she had to
hide it from her husband, but...
A pair of young boys, RICKY and DAVIS, sit on the floor
outside Susan's lab door. A crumpled paper bag and a shoe
box sit beside them.
SUSAN
What's this?
SIRI
Oh, right... They been here since noon.
I told them you're real busy.
Susan smiles at the boys, who stand when they see her.
SUSAN
Hello.
RICKY
You the bug lady, right?
Siri chuckles.
SUSAN
(smiles)
I suppose so.
Ricky raises and shakes the paper bag.
RICKY
We're here to deal.
INT. MOUNTING ROOM - DUSK
SUNLIGHT slants in to illuminate an incredible array of live
and mounted dead INSECTS, trapped in turn-of-the-century
glass fronted cabinets. Davis puts his nose up against one,
fascinated.
SUSAN
Metaxonycha Godmani, Trigonopelastes
Delta. Field Butterflies. Have you been
upstate?
She examines the boys' findings, mostly rag-tag specimens
of battered butterflies.
DAVIS
Avenue B.
SUSAN
(sadly)
I guess they got lost in this city.
RICKY
So, you wanna buy em?
DAVIS
There's extra wings in the bag.
Siri lingers in the background.
SUSAN
You guys have done a nice job. How bout
five dollars?
RICKY
(dismayed)
That's it?
DAVIS
(to Ricky)
Show her the weirdbug.
He indicates the shoebox-
RICKY
Cost a dollar just to look.
DAVIS
It's a great bug. We kinda broke it a
little...
Siri impatiently points at the wall clock-
SUSAN
Fellas, I'll tell you what...ten dollars
for everything. Plus a killing jar, some
tweezers and mounts so the next bunch you
catch will be in better shape.
DAVIS
Deal!
RICKY
You crazy! That's the best!!
DAVIS
Bug's almost dead anyway.
Susan holds out two five dollar bills. The boys can't
resist. Davis grabs the money-
DAVIS
Thanks, lady.
Ricky gives a last possessive look to the shoe box, then
follows Davis out.
Siri crosses to the window and wrestles to close it.
SIRI
Ten dollars?
Susan places all the kid's items -including the shoebox- in
a wastebasket.
SUSAN
Alphabet City kids- there's much worse
things they could be selling.
Siri hits the window frame with a paperweight, gets it half
way down.
SIRI
I hate this fucking window...
EXT. ACROSS STREET FROM MUSEUM - NIGHTFALL
CRANE TO a nearby alley.
A GAUNT MAN IN AN OVERCOAT stands in the shadows, looking up
at Siri working on the window.
As a streetlamp lights up, he backs up into the shadows.
CUT TO:
INT. FLOPHOUSE. LOBBY - NIGHTFALL
Religious slogans and posters are hung everywhere in what
used to be the lobby of a men's hotel. A hand-lettered sign:
"NO LIQUOR, NO DRUGS, NO PROFANITY"
PARAMEDICS are leading a number of ill CHINESE IMMIGRANTS up
from the cellar door seen earlier. Many are brought out on
STRETCHERS. DOH staff put tags on their wrists.
Peter examines a PALE OLD MAN on a stretcher while
simultaneously talking to Josh.
PETER
(to Josh)
There's plenty of systemic infection
already, so as soon as we get a
preliminary reading, start them on
anti-biotics. You saw this?
Peter flicks on his penlight, examines the Old Man's eyes.
One of them is completely bloodshot. Then he shows Josh
the gums. They're bleeding.
PETER
Internal hemorrage. 2 our of 5 have
it. No definite signs of TB, but we'll
quarantine them a week just to make sure.
JOSH
Immigration's gonna love you for that.
PETER
Tell them to send flowers to the
usual address.
INT. SWEAT SHOP. BASEMENT
Peter pushes back a sheet hung across a doorway.
BASEMENT SHOWERS
A tiled nightmare. Concentration camp-cozy. A pile of old,
rusting sewing machines clutter the floor, spilling
oxide to a central grate.
JOSH
Two shifts, people rotating from bed to
work. One toilet. We're in Wal-Mart
hell, here.
Josh swats a fly.
PETER
Did they get the sleazebag who owns this
place?
JOSH
Triad, Chinese Mafia. They bring people
from Yunan. Slave labor...
(eyes his notebook)
Reverend Harry Wong, a preacher had the
flophouse fronting for them. No sign of
him.
An overhead door is opened. Daylight streams in. Peter spots
YANG, an Asian cop, talking to a CHINESE WOMAN lying on a
stretcher which hasn't been moved yet. She is hollow-eyed,
near death. Her hand weakly hangs on to the cop as if for
dear life.
PETER
Tell her she's going to be alright.
We'll take care of her.
Peter kneels next to her, looking at her and nodding while
Yang translates. The woman mutters again, tears of fear in
her eyes. Yang shakes his head.
YANG
She's delirious. Keeps saying the "Dark
Angels" are coming for her. She says
they took some of her people away.
PETER
Dark Angels?
YANG
(Shrugs.)
Probably a gang. Chinese people, man.
They come up with some wacky stuff.
They pull the stretcher out through the open overhead door
and into an
ALLEY
The stretcher is rolled into a waiting vehicle, its lights
flashing. Unseen by them, on a brick wall, nearly buried by
graffiti, is a crude DRAWING.
It is of the same, odd figure Peter saw drawn earlier. The
OVERCOAT MAN.
INT. LAB - NIGHT - MONTAGE
Susan and Siri, both wearing Walkman headsets, deftly mount
BUTTERFLIES and other INSECTS onto display boards for the
exhibit. Rain is blowing in through the half-open window.
Their movements are precise and lyrical, the colors and
designs of the insects are beautiful.
We understand how you can get lost in this world. Susan
works steadily, a partially-eaten PAY-DAY BAR and the
wrappers of several others are evidence of her dinner.
A PAGER goes off in Susan's lab coat.
She takes off her headset; CLASSICAL MUSIC leaks from her
headphones.
On the PAGER's LCD screen the message reads: LATE
TONIGHT. PETE.
Susan puts the pager down. Goes to close the window.
There is a loud, angry BUZZING sound.
SUSAN
Siri?
(louder)
Siri?!
Siri pulls her headset off; HEAVY METAL MUSIC leaks from her
headphones.
The BUZZING sound again. We PAN across the various bugs and
mounting implements till we come to rest...
...on the SHOEBOX the boys gave Susan. Something rattles
wildly inside.
SIRI
...the fuck?
Susan crosses to the trash bin, picks the box out. It
vibrates on her hand, then becomes quiet, something moves
inside.
She slowly opens the lid.
The bottom of the box is littered with two inches of shredded
newspaper. Crumbs of bread and some rice-krispies can be
spotted here and there: a kid's idea of a comfy critter's
nest. She moves her free hand closer.
SUSAN
(To Siri)
Can you...?
Suddenly and INSECT big as her hand springs out of the
shredded paper nest and tries to grab on to her! Minute
pieces of paper fly through the air!!
Susan slaps the lid back down.
SUSAN
(a scared whisper)
Could you...help me...?
CUT TO:
LATER
Siri comes over as Susan grabs steel tongs and a cork
dissecting board.
SUSAN
I'm gonna pull it out and I want you to
pin it down, okay?
SIRI
What is it?
SUSAN
I have no idea. Are you ready?
Siri nods, pins in hand. Susan opens the lid and grabs the
nymph with the tongs. The creature goes berserk, flailing
its spindly limbs, BUZZING and CROAKING, a milky substance
FOAMING out of its body.
SIRI
Oh my God...
Susan deposits the insect onto the corkboard.
Siri tries to get a hold of it; but it twists out of the
tongs and wraps its coarse legs around her hand!! A spider
trapping a sparrow.
SIRI
Shit!! Get it! Get it!
SNAP! It bites her hand between index and forefinger.
Susan pins the insect into the corkboard. It spins furiously,
like a crazy LP record.
Susan gets a grip on it again with the tongs. Siri uses more
pins to secure it down.
SUSAN
(Noticing Siri's hand)
It bit you.
SIRI
No shit.
SUSAN
leans to get a closer look at the NYMPH: Deep dark brown,
flat as a pancake, one rear leg broken, lower tail smashed.
It squirms helplessly now, looking pitiful under the harsh
overhead light.
SUSAN
This wing configuration. I've
never...
SIRI
(looking at her injury)
Fuck! It broke the skin...
SUSAN
And they're not fully developed. This
thing's not even an adult.
The nymph continues to HISS and FOAM, struggling against the
steel pins. Susan looks closely at the insect's belly.
SUSAN
My God.
SIRI
What?
Susan gestures to look. Siri stares down at
THE NYMPH'S TORSO
where a SET OF VALVES on its underside click in and out.
SUSAN (OS)
It's breathing.
SIRI
shakes her head.
SIRI
That's impossible. Insects don't...
SUSAN
I know.
(Picks up a SCALPEL)
Help me get a sample.
Susan touches her scalpel to the nymph's leg.
The nymph CLICKS nervously.
SUSAN
Hold on, big guy, hold on...
She traps the nymph down and CUTS THE LEG OFF.
A painful, agonized BUZZ echoes around the room.
CUT TO:
MONITOR
Susan attaches the insect's leg to a samll holder. It is
frozen in a swirl of dry ice.
The brittle leg is then mounted in a LASER MICROTOME. Bit by
bit, the machine executes MICROSCOPIC WAFER CUTS. Siri is
making slides out of each section.
A series of MICROPHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGES flash onto the screen.
In the background we hear the high-pitched BUZZ-
We see the lights from the mounting room through a glass
brick wall.
INT. MOUNTING ROOM - NIGHT
We see the nymph slowly squirming in the FG, then RACK FOCUS
to the rain-spattered WINDOW.
Suddenly the OVERCOAT MAN is standing on the windowsill!
The window is lifted effortlesly from the outside.
SUSAN
prepares a blue solution and places two drops on each smear
slide.
Reflected in the glass brick behind her we see the man moving
across the room.
THE OVERCOAT MAN
seen only through rippled glass and reflections, moves
through the lab.
His body STEAMS lightly from the rain. His movements are
quirky, spastic.
The man observes the imprisoned insects with curiosity.
He comes to the nymph, pinned and mutilated on the worktable.
The nymph CLICKS and CHITTERS excitedly, as if communicating
with the man.
He looks up at the worklight. It seems to bother him.
WHUMP!!! In a blur of motion, he SMASHES the light bulb.
SUSAN
watches the smear slide. The blue droplets begin to CHANGE
COLOR once in contact with the leg section...
SUSAN
Hold on a second...
...slowly turning a deep green.
SIRI
What?
Then, THREE LARGE BEETLES fly into the room.
Siri looks at Susan. Susan gets up, hesitant, signals for
Siri to stay.
We FOLLOW Susan into the mounting room.
SUSAN'S POV
She walks in, barely able to see her hand in front of her
face.
The window facing the street is wide open, rain blowing in.
Something CRUNCHES under her feet. She bends down, looks.
She's stepped on the broken glass of the lightbulb.
The floor is alive with various INSECTS -- crawling, hopping,
flying away from their displays, which have been opened.
The nymph is gone from the board!
She looks under the work table the nymph was on.
We LOWER as we TRACK BACK with her. Something is folded up
in the corner of the ceiling behind her, camouflaged in the
shadows, clinging impossibly to the wall.
THE OVERCOAT MAN.
He lowers himself with silent grace.
Susan whirls.
WHOOSH! A GUST OF WIND! A FLUTTERING SHADOW OFF THE WINDOW!
Silence.
SIRI (O.S.)
Susan?
Susan GASPS, startled. We SHIFT to see Siri at the door.
SUSAN
Call security.
CUT TO:
EXT. FLOPHOUSE - NIGHT
The last DOH van takes off under the heavy rain.
Across the street, Chuy looks down from his apartment window.
INT. MANNY'S APARTMENT - SAME
Chuy sits at the window, twisting wire into a human-like
figure. MOVING past him, we see a group of other WIRE
FIGURES on the table, backs of chairs, lamps, everywhere.
Manny sits at the kitchen table. He IGNITES a can of shoe
polish with a match, then lights a cigarette off the flame.
He puts the cigarette in his mouth and proceeds to polish a
pair of shoes. A SILLY SHOW plays over the TV.
MANNY
Not too little, not too much. You rub it
in, around and around like this. Let the
leather take it.
Manny leans tiredly against the table. He looks fatigued
and in pain. He takes a small pill and places it under
his tongue.
MANNY
You watching? You should learn to
work the shoes. You're good with your
hands...
Manny shoots a glance over to his grandson.
MANNY
Chuy...you gonna get all wet.
Chuy doesn't pay attention, just stares out at the street.
MANNY
Did you look at the story book I got you?
Manny lifts a brightly colored CHILDREN'S BOOK.
MANNY
Our Animal Friends. Can you say that,
Chico? "Friends"?
Nothing from Chuy.
CHUY'S POV - STREET
The building across the street. Yellow DOH tape at the
entrance.
MANNY (OS)
A friend is the one you can trust. When
you are with a friend, no matter where in
the world, you are at home.
A FIGURE moves out of the shadows and totters in the rain
toward the entrance. It is the OVERCOAT MAN, barely visible
in the rain.
MANNY
In this city. A friend is a hard thing to
find...
CHUY
His face shows a bit of animation.
CHUY
Funny Shoes...
Manny looks up from the book.
CHUY
Alli. Mr. Funny Shoes.
Manny comes over, looks out.
THEIR POV
The figure has disappeared into the dark front of the
boarded-up building.
MANNY AND CHUY
MANNY
No one is there. Is empty.
Chuy doesn't respond. Manny turns the boy's face to his.
MANNY
Chuy, listen to me. They have Jesus on
the cross, but that is not a holy place.
You understand?
Chuy looks at him blankly. Manny sighs; he knows he doesn't.
MANNY
Ah, Nino. God only knows what goes on in
your head, eh?
He pats the boy on the head, then goes back to work. Chuy
turns back to stare at the street.
CHUY
Mr. Funny Shoes...
CUT TO:
EXT. OUTSIDE TYLER APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
The D.O.H. Van pulls up in front of a modest Pre-war
building. Josh and Peter climb out.
Peter is reviewing a roster.
PETER
Josh, what was Immigration's
countdown?
Josh hands Peter a plastic bag with his sweat clothes
and running shoes.
JOSH
Thirty-three workers.
Peter hands him the roster.
PETER
There are thirty five listed in the
reverend Wong's roster...
JOSH
Shit.
Peter walks up the front steps.
PETER
Remember what that woman said, about
people being taken? Check with the
copsin the area.
INT. TYLER APARTMENT - NIGHT
Peter enters the apartment, which has long since been
remodeled with a nicer couch and a bigger TV with slightly
better reception.
PETER
Sus?
No answer. He notices the dining room table is filled with
yellowed FILES, all marked JUDAS TRADITOR.
PETER
(Looks around once again)
Susan?
INT. LAUNDRY ROOM
Peter comes in to find Susan sitting in a chair before a
dryer, quietly watching laundry whirl within.
PETER
(Regarding the laundry.)
Thought it was my week for that.
SUSAN
(Shrugs.)
I needed to think. It was either this
or the weather channel.
Peter walks over, kisses her. He notices an open book of
INSECT MORPHOLOGY on her lap. There's a FULL COLOR
PHOTOGRAPH of an OOTHECA -- an insect eggcase.
INT. LAUNDRY ROOM - LATER
Peter folds laundry into his/her piles. Susan paces.
SUSAN
This thing was the size of my fist,
Peter!! That's off the charts!
PETER
Okay. So you lost a great specimen-
SUSAN
Don't you get it? It's more than
that.
Peter takes a bedsheet. Susan helps him fold it.
SUSAN
You know why insects don't grow larger?
Because they don't have a complex
respiratory system. What I saw did. It
had lungs.
Peter walks backward with his end of the sheet. The two
begin to fold it together.
SUSAN
Evolution doesn't work that fast.
Something pushed that thing to take the
leap. We need to find another specimen.
PETER
We?
As they fold the sheet, they move closer together.
SUSAN
I did a PH test on its tarsal pads.
The folding of the sheet has brought them almost face to
face. Susan finishes folding herself.
SUSAN
There's only two species who match the
enzymes I found. One's a leaf-cutter ant
in the Amazon...
She has his full attention now.
SUSAN
The other we released here two years ago.
EXT. ALPHABET CITY - AVENUE B - DAY
A TAXI CAB makes a U turn and cruises on.
INT. CAB
Susan ignores the yakking Armenian DRIVER as she scans
the buildings and empty lots-
ARMENIAN DRIVER
Avenue B... again! Maybe you got
wrong letter, uh?
The cabbie looks up at a Manhattan street map glued over
his head on the roof of the cab.
SUSAN
Keep going. We'll tell you when to
stop...
PETER
Maybe they lied to you.
SUSAN
Even if they did... that's all we
have, isn't it?
The cab cruises past the tenement buildings, nondescript
stores, junked cars and rubble-strewn lots. It stops
before a traffic light.
A LEERING HOMELESS GUY with a greasy rag and greasier
cleaning solution approaches the windshield.
ARMENIAN
No... Oh, shit. Get away, you Turk!
The Homeless guy begins wiping/smudging the windshield
with his dirty rag. The driver sends him away.
The light turns green. The Driver accelerates, turning
on the windshield wipers to expunge the smears left by
the guy.
Susan sees something.
SUSAN
Pull over!
ARMENIAN DRIVER
What...?
Susan motions excitedly. The Driver pulls over. Susan
gets out.
EXT. OUTSIDE CAR
Susan rushes over, removes something from the windshield
wiper.
A BUTTERFLY, its wing pinned under the rubber flapper.
She holds it in her palm, then looks up at Peter.
SUSAN
Metaxonycha Godmani.
PETER
So?
Susan looks around. Just ahead is an empty LOT surrounded by
a wooden fence plastered with flyers for rock bands and
performance artists.
An identical BUTTERFLY perches on the edge of a board.
EXT. EMPTY LOT
Susan and Peter walk through waist-high GRASS of a small
urban wilderness. Dozens of BUTTERFLIES flutter around them
from the weeds.
RICKY (OS)
If you want your money back, forget it!
Peter and Susan look up. The voice comes from a RAMSHACKLE
CLUBHOUSE, built of wood scraps and cardboard.
DAVIS (OS)
We already spent it!
Susan walks forward.
SUSAN
We're here to deal.
Long beat. The door to the clubhouse swings open.
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY
A BLUR of subway cars goes by with an ear-pulverizing SOUND.
At the end of the platform, Davis untwists a wire around the
busted lock of a locker room door. Peter paces nervously
nearby.
PETER
Here, let me...
He starts on it himself. Meanwhile, Ricky stares at a
PHOTOGRAPH Susan has given to him: a ribbed, tortoise-
brown colored EGGCASE.
SUSAN
You sure you didn't see one of these?
RICKY
Gross. What is it?
SUSAN
An "Ootheca". An eggcase. It probably had
more, uh "weirdbugs" inside.
RICKY
(shakes his head)
No way. I see one of those, I'd puke.
Davis opens the door with a CLICK.
INT. SUBWAY LOCKER ROOM
A dark, abandoned LOCKER ROOM once used for transit workers.
Susan and Peter walk in with the boys, nervous in the off-
limits area.
DAVIS
It was in that corner over there.
Davis points to a bank of dented metal LOCKERS.
RICKY
Sucker was fast, man.
(Picks up a pipe.)
Had to take it out with one a these.
PETER
Okay, guys. We'll take it from here.
Peter hands Ricky some money. The boy looksdown at it
slyly.
RICKY
Make it ten an' we won't tell the cops
you're here.
Peter regards the little scam artist dryly.
PETER
Let's keep it at five and I won't
condemn your clubhouse.
Peter hands him a couple of dollars more. The two boys
take off.
Peter removes a PENLIGHT from his pocket.
Dust covers everything. A forest of COPPER TUBING and PIPES
where the sinks used to be.
PETER
inspects the floor. It's littered with cheap objects:
chipped combs, used rubbers, soggy newspapers, smeared
heroin syringes.
Something shiny catches his eye. He picks it up.
PETER
(quietly)
Look, a broken tooth...
Something rustles nearby.
He notices an old, rotting poster on the back wall. It
seems ODDLY TEXTURED somehow. He walks toward it.
SUSAN
kneeling, pushes aside a dented trash bin. Behind it, there
is a cabinet with rusty sliding doors.
A SUBWAY TRAIN RUMBLES by outside, the sound echoes off
the tile walls.
Susan forces the door back. She peeks through the opening.
Her face stares back at her from a dirty pocket mirror.
She starts pulling something out.
PETER
at the oddly texture wall. He shines the penlight at it...
...and is met with a FLUTTER OF WINGS. MOTHS, perfectly
camouflaged against the poster on the wall, whiz past him.
Peter recoils.
SUSAN (OS)
You okay?
He nods.
SUSAN
turns back to her locker. She withdraws a cheap PLASTIC
NECKLACE from it. As she removes it, it breaks. A coulpe of
beads fall away...
...rolls under the locker...
...and BOUNCE -- once, twice, thrice -- each time going
deeper till they comes to a stop.
Susan peers where the beads fell.
SUSAN
There's something under here.
Peter comes over, kneels by her. Susan takes a handful of
beads and throws them at the base of the locker.
CAMERA TRACKS to follow one of them. It rolls all the way
under.
A moment later, from some interior space, the sound of it
BOUNCING on cement. He shines his light inside.
INT. HOLE - PETER'S HAND
Very dark. A highlight glints off a shell-like surface.
The light barely touches it.
THE WHOLE SURFACE BACKS AWAY.
Peter drops the penlight. It gets stuck in a jutting piece
of concrete.
PETER
PETER
Shit.
Peter tries to get his hand in
DEEPER
But he cannot reach the light. It is literally inches from
his fingers...
SUSAN
SUSAN
Let me try. My hands are smaller.
She kneels and goes for it.
INT. HOLE - SUSAN'S HAND
Her hand reaches for the penlight.
She barely touches it. The penlight spins around. Its light
now illuminates...
THE FACE OF A MAN. Unseen by Susan. Terrifying in its doll-
like simplicity. In the darkness, its features seem
indiscernable, inert, almost frozen in a perfectly
symmetrical pattern.
It regards the spiderlike movement of Susan's fingers.
SUSAN'S
face squinches with the effort.
PETER
Honey, just leave it.
SUSAN
No, there's...
INT. HOLE - SUSAN'S HAND
As Susan's hand moves closer, the strange Face begins to
TREMBLE.
A CLICKING SOUND.
Susan's hand is almost there.
SUSAN
reaches further.
And suddenly A BEAM OF LIGHT cuts through the darkness.
Their vision resolves. The figures of two MTA COPS stand
before them: ERNEST, 50, burly and bull-necked; and LEONARD
-- African American, 45, more formidable than fat.
LEONARD
(Wearily)
Now don't tell me.
INT. HOLE
Susan's hand withdraws.
LEONARD (OS)
You lost a token, right?
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY PLATFORM - LATER
SHH-SHH-SHH. A felt rag is expertly being pulled across a
set of pristine black shoes.
REVEAL Leonard sitting like a king in a chair, getting his
shoes shined by Manny. He leans back laconically while
arguing with Peter. Ernest examines the ootheca picture.
PETER
Look, I showed you my badge...
LEONARD
Yeah, and you gonna have to show me a lot
bigger one you wanna go down there.
That's the old maintenance grid, Doc.
Swiss cheese: tunnels, tracks...
PETER
The Department of Public Health...
LEONARD
...should know better'n to go sneakin'
around my turf...
PETER
Fine. You want me to call your
supervisor?
LEONARD
Please do. He's a lonely guy.
Uninterested, Leonard looks over to Susan and Chuy.
ANGLE ON SUSAN
She leans against the wall, inspects her dirty hand. Ernest
gives her his handkerchief.
CHUY (OS)
Gucci. Flat pump.
She looks down at Chuy, who sits nearby, holding a PAIR OF
SPOONS.
ERNEST
Your shoes.
She stares down at her shoes. Gucci flat pumps, all right.
Susan smiles.
Just then, a SUBWAY TRAIN pulls up. The doors open,
disgorging passengers. Chuy flips into action. He starts
playing his spoons, CLICKING them together, slapping them
against his knee.
Susan watches in wonder as the boy begins to use the spoons
to IMITATE the different rhythmical step patterns of the
VARIOUS COMMUTERS: The rolling, comical gait of A FAT MAN,
the lithe haughty step of A PRIM LADY.
SUSAN
(Laughs. To Chuy.)
That's wonderful! What grade are you in?
Chuy doesn't answer.
ERNEST
No school. Shoes're all Chuy knows about.
Ernest discreetly points to his forehead.
MANNY
(immediately)
He's special.
LEONARD
He can imitate anything, you just watch
him.
PETER
(Irritably, to Leonard)
Excuse me, I'm talking to you.
LEONARD
No, you talkin' at me.
Leonard hands Manny a $5.00 bill for the shine, gets up and
walks past Peter as if he were invisible.
ERNEST
(discreetly, to Susan)
Is there some reward for this?
SUSAN
I guess that could be arranged.
Ernest smiles, pockets the ootheca picture.
PETER
For Chrissakes. You gonna lay a two-
bit bureaucratic, territorial number
on me?
LEONARD
You wanna keep up the conversation, you
best come back with the proper permits
and the right attitude.
Leonard saunters away with Ernest in tow.
Peter shakes his head angrily. He takes Susan by the arm,
heads off in another direction.
Chuy, without watching, clicks his spoons to the imitation of
their steps.
INT. SUBWAY STAIRS - DAY
Susan and Peter walk up the stairs; Peter still fumes.
PETER
You give someone a fucking uniform
and... Did you hear how he talked to us?
SUSAN
I heard how you talked to him.
PETER
Oh, so I'm the bad guy now?
Susan spares him an ironic look.
SUSAN
He was just doing his job.
PETER
Fine, then I'm the bad guy. Jesus!
At the top of the stairs they're completely engulfed by
sunlight.
PETER
He wants a permit, I'll get him a
permit.
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY TRACKS - DUSK
A train blurs by.
A FLASHLIGHT BEAM over dirty gravel. TILT with the beam to
see Ernest walking his beat past TRACKS and GIRDERS. Hulking
out-of-service SUBWAY CARS surround him. He shines his light
on the ootheca picture and then around him at the walls.
A SOUND catches his attention. A RUSTLING.
He notices something off to a corner, walks over to it.
A SHINY BROWN LUMP in the corner, covered in garbage.
He touches the lump with his shoe. It STIRS slightly.
He touches it again...
...and a PAIR OF LEGS suddenly LASH OUT, kicking at him
reflexively.
Ernest jumps back.
Another SET OF LEGS emerges...
Oddly enough, Ernest relaxes.
ERNEST
Chrissakes...
He grabs the surface of the lump, and pulls it. We see that
it was just a SHINY BROWN TARP.
Underneath, a group of THREE HOMELESS PEOPLE -- emaciated,
toothless -- sleeping intertwined for warmth. In the dim
light, they almost seem like a single organism.
ERNEST
Guys, c'mon.
The Homeless People stare back at him mutely. Ernest starts
getting annoyed.
ERNEST
I told you to stick by the maintenance
area.
BAG LADY
Nah... It's private property now.
Ernest looks at her, confused.
SKELETAL BUM
He eats down there.
ERNEST
Who?
HOMELESS MAN
The Stickman.
BAG LADY
Long John.
The homeless man points. Ernest turns his light.
Another SILHOUETTE of the OVERCOAT MAN drawn on the wall. An
arrow below it points east.
ERNEST
Graffiti artist, uh?
(To Homeless People)
Look guys, just get off my beat, you
hear? Get moving.
Ernest hustles them out. The homeless people glare at him,
pick up their things and head into the gloom.
Ernest watches them go. He turns back to the graffiti
painting of The Stickman.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL - LATER
Ernest walks deeper into the tunnels. Dusklight slants in
weakly from grates above.
He stops as a RUMBLE is heard ahead of him He ducks into a
recess in the wall. The RUMBLE grows LOUDER, LOUDER.
A SUBWAY TRAIN curves around the bend up ahead, its
HEADLIGHTS raking the opposite wall to reveal...
A FIGURE crouched over something.
We hear CHOMPING and SWALLOWING sounds.
CU ERNEST
Squinting to see over his flashlight beam.
ERNEST
Hey, buddy!
No answer. Just the wet sounds of food getting chewed and
ingested. Ernest is revolted.
ERNEST
Get off my track...
The crouching figure lifts its head and looks around in a
unusually quick BLUR OF MOTION. It's the OVERCOAT MAN.
Another distant RUMBLE. Ernest's clothes flutter in the puff
of hot wind that signals an approaching train.
Ernest pulls a CAN OF MACE from his belt, begins to advance.
The Overcoat Man stands up.
Ernest stops in his tracks.
For he sees that the Overcoat Man is holding a large OBJECT
in his arms. Something wet and shiny with blood.
A dead dog.
The Overcoat Man drops the animal. It rolls slowly down his
chest...
...and is briefly caught BY ANOTHER SET OF ARMS EXTENDING
FROM HIS TORSO.
ERNEST
Sweet Jesus...
The Overcoat Man lets the animal fall to the ground. He
begins walking toward Ernest.
Ernest backs away.
The Overcoat Man LEAPS on him just as the SUBWAY TRAIN ROARS
PAST!
CRACK! Ernest's body is twisted and crunched by powerful
arms.
Through the strobing windows we see Ernest enveloped by the
dark figure, then raised above, taken away.
TRACK
The can of mace rolls next to the track as the TRAIN CLEARS.
The track is empty again.
CUT TO:
INT. EXHIBITION HALL - BANNER
We PAN across the banner: 'ARCHITECTS OF NATURE'.
INT. EXHIBITION FLOOR
EXHIBITS under glass set up throughout the room: Insect
chambers and vaults of great complexity, etc.
An opening night CROWD of affluent MUSEUM PATRONS. All
tuxedoes and painted smiles. Some peremptorily peruse the
displays; most just camp out at the buffet table.
Peter enters, dressed in his worksuit. He scans the
room, sees Siri leaning against a wall by the buffet
table, drinking an orange juice. He goes over to her.
PETER
Heya.
(Kisses her on the cheek.)
Where's the boss?
Siri gestures to the far end of the room. Susan stands
alone, sipping a chardonnay by an ANT MOUND exhibit.
SIRI
Ant mound.
Peter notices Siri seems unusually weary. She covers one
of her eyes.
PETER
You okay?
SIRI
It's just a headache. We were
sandblasting Trump Tower here since
four this morning.
PETER
Maybe you should sit...
SIRI
I'm fine. Go talk to Susan. She could
use a good word right now.
She nods for him to go ahead. Peter leaves.
Siri closes her eyes. She rubs the bandage around the
insect bite on her hand.
PETER
approaches Susan. She's staring through thr glass panes
of the exhibit at the crowd of patrons. In the
refraction, their black tuxedoes and evening gowns seem
to blend into one another.
PETER
Great crowd.
SUSAN
No such thing, baby.
She looks over at the crowd congregated around the
buffet table.
SUSAN
I get the feeling they came more for
the potroast than the apterids.
PETER
Fuck 'em. They don't know what
they're missing.
SUSAN
(Distantly)
Right.
Peter looks at her.
PETER
What's wrong?
Susan sighs.
SUSAN
Oh...nothing that a little
menopausal's pee daikiri couldn't
cure. Least that's what I thought.
Peter looks at her, notices that one of her hands is on
her stomach.
PETER
(genuinely moved)
Oh, no, you were-
SUSAN
I was just late.
Susan nods. Peter takes her hand. They sit by the ant
mound.
SUSAN
Ironic, don't you think? These guys
can hatch hundreds of offspring in a
single clutch of eggs, right? And
here we are...
PETER
Susan, we're not b-
SIRI (OS)
Susan?
Susan looks up to see Siri standing on the other side of
the glass case.
SIRI
(Weakly.)
I'm sorry. I think...I need...
One of her eyes is completely bloodshot. Her mouth is
bleeding. She puts her hand on the case to steady
herself.
Her fingers leave a STREAK OF BLOOD on the glass.
SUSAN
Siri...
Siri collapses. The exhibit tips over.
Peter pulls Susan out of the way just as the exhibit
FALLS AND SMASHES TO THE GROUND!
SUSAN
Siri!
The room erupts into COMMOTION.
Susan and Peter run to Siri, who lies unconscious on the
floor.
Peter gently turns her over.
Siri's BLEEDING from the corner of her mouth. Just like
the Chinese workers in the sweatshop.
Tuxedoed people encircle her next to the insect mounds.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. NEW YORK STREET - NIGHT
An ambulance races down the avenue toward a distant
hospital.
INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY
Siri is rushed on a gurney toward the Emergency Room.
Peter and Susan walk next to it talking to DR. CHRIS
RAYMOND, a 35-year old ER physician.
PETER
...I think it's some kind of systemic
infection, Chris. I saw a few cases
like it yesterday. A sweatshop in
Canal.
RAYMOND
(to Peter.)
Okay, look. You better come in with
me. Help me through.
INT. EMERGENCY ROOM
Raymond, Peter, and several other ER STAFF work on Siri,
now lying on an operating table.
RAYMOND
(To Peter)
All hands on deck, Pete. Remember the
dril?
PETER
It'll come back to me.
RAYMOND inspects Siri's wounded hand. The bandage has
been removed. The bite-wound is infected and
suppurating. A large red circular RASH around it.
PETER
Looks like a Lyme disease rash.
RAYMOND
It's not consistent with the internal
bleeding. Any idea what bit her?
Peter shakes his head.
RAYMOND
I think we're gonna need to have that
specimen here.
An ASSISTANT finishes inserting a catheter down her
throat.
Blood and fluid leak up through the clear tube.
ABOVE THE OPERATING THEATER.
Staring down through the circular glass deck, Susan
silently observes the procedures.
CUT TO:
INT. MANNY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Salmon-colored LIGHT slants in from sodium vapor streetlight.
PAN through the shadowy room, past Manny's sleeping form to
Chuy, asleep under a tent made of an old Star Wars blanket.
A RHYTHMICAL CLICKING SOUND is heard from outside.
Chuy pops his head out from under the blanket, listening.
EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT
Wearing only his pajama bottoms, Chuy steps out on the fire
escape with his spoons in hand.
The CLICKING RESUMES from the building across the street.
OVERHEAD VIEW
The barefoot little boy crosses the street, steps through the
center of the huge PAINT STAIN on the sidewalk.
The CLICKING sound comes again.
STREET LEVEL
The CLICKING comes again from inside the flophouse. It
continues a little bit, then stops.
Chuy CLICKS his spoons together, mimicking the sound.
Beat. A CLICKING from within again; almost an answer.
Chuy ducks under the yellow DOH tape, walks toward the front
of the building.
He comes to the boarded entrance. There is a hole, narrow,
and low in the doorway.
Chuy squats, begins to wriggle through it.
INT. FLOPHOUSE - LOBBY
Chuy steps into the lobby.
The CLICKING comes again, from further inside.
Chuy moves to find it.
CHAPEL
Bits of STREETLIGHT slant in. Chuy walks slowly, listening.
He steps into the SHADOW of a LOOMING FIGURE. He turns...
CHUY'S POV - CRUCIFIX
We start on bleeding, nail-pierced feet, then TILT up the
twisted body to the face of Jesus, looking down.
CHUY
stares without emotion at the plaster figure.
MOVEMENT to his side. He turns again.
A dimly-lit FIGURE stands before him.
Shapes fold and regroup in the darkness, resolving into the
tall figure of the OVERCOAT MAN.
The Man begins to emit the CLICKING NOISE from under his
chin, his whole head VIBRATING.
Chuy smiles. He has a beautiful smile.
CHUY
Mr. Funny Shoes.
He plays his spoons, imitating the sound the figure made.
He is answered...but this time, it's from the other side of
the room. We PAN as he turns.
ANOTHER OVERCOAT MAN appears in the shadows.
Chuy GIGGLES, delighted.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING ROOM
Susan and Peter.
SUSAN
...you don't even know what you're
looking for.
PETER
You said that thing was big as your
hand. I don't think I'm going to
miss...
SUSAN
Why take the chance? Just let me go
down there with you...
PETER
No.
Susan glares at him. Peter sits down by her.
PETER
Susan, listen to me: you handled
that insect almost as much as Siri...
SUSAN
It didn't bite me.
PETER
I know. But if it was carrying
something...there's a chance you
could have been exposed.
Susan is silent.
PETER
Chris is going to run some blood
tests on you. I want you to stay here
till he's absolutely sure you're
clean. Okay? Then you'll call me...
You'll catch up with us...
Susan looks up at him. Finally, she nods.
PETER
We'll be all right, Sus. I promise.
He leans over, kisses her gently. But Susan seems
hardly reassured.
CUT TO:
INT. MANNY'S APARTMENT - PREDAWN
The blue hours before dawn. Laconic movement outside. New
York dragging itself out of bed.
We FIND Manny fixing some melted cheese sandwiches on a hot
plate. He addresses Chuy's tented bed behind him.
MANNY
My father saw me stay in bed, he'd go get
a pitcher. Cold water, whoosh, I tell you
that's some alarm clock, brrrrr!
Manny cuts the bread in four equal sections and arranges them
in a star-shaped pattern. A breakfast ritual of some kind.
MANNY
Ah! There you go! The way you like 'em,
Chu-chu...
(He pours a glass of milk.)
We're low on milk, you remind Grampa to
pick some up tonight, okay?
He walks over to Chuy's tent bed. He pulls the sheets aside.
His grandson is gone.
CUT TO:
EXT. SEWAGE FILTRATION PLANT - PREDAWN
Sewage water BUBBLES in huge tanks.
A WORKMAN walks down catwalks above the tank, disengaging the
larger pieces of debris from the filter areas with grappling
hooks. Shoes, tires, rags...
A GRINDING SOUND is heard. The Workman YELLS out to a
CONTROL BOOTH above.
WORKMAN
Hold up! We gotta block on filter D.
SOUND of the pump coming to a halt.
The Workman walks to the filter area. He sinks his grappling
hook into the polluted waters.
UNDERWATER SHOT
Spooky, silent. The grappling hook moves like a scythe to the
filter...
...past long, soft filaments of RAGGED TISSUE...
...and connects with a LARGER FORM.
ABOVE WATER
The Workman feels the grappling hook connecting. He gives a
YANK, hooking whatever it is.
He begins pulling it up.
A PALE FORM bubbles to the surface.
The Workman's face goes pale.
WORKMAN
Oh, God...
A grating VOICE from the control booth is heard over the P.A.
CONTROL BOOTH
VOICE
What's the problem?
It take the Workman a moment to speak.
WORKMAN
I think it's a baby!
The Workman pulls the form (as if that will do any good)
toward the edge of the tank.
He bends down, and now gets his first good look at it.
The Workman SCREAMS.
His grappling hook falls from his hand, into the sewage.
CUT TO:
INT. HOSPITAL - ICU WARD
Susan watches Siri from behind a pane of glass. Siri is
connected to a respirator, her vital signs monitored by
several machines.
Raymond approaches Susan, two cups of coffee in his
hands.
RAYMOND
How you feeling?
SUSAN
You tell me.
He smiles, gives her one of the cups.
RAYMOND
Your blood tests were all negative.
You checked out.
Susan visibly relaxes. She looks back at the ICU ward.
SUSAN
What about Siri?
RAYMOND
She's stable. I don't think there's
any immediate danger, but we'll have
to keep her under observation...
SUSAN
You think it's some form of
Strickler's, don't you?
Beat. Raymond shrugs.
RAYMOND
Pathology's still working on the
tissue samples. If it is...it must
be an errant strain. Shorter
incubation period.
(Beat.)
I'm sorry, Sue. We just don't know
yet.
INT. HOSPITAL - BATHROOM
At the sink, Susan runs water over her hands, her face,
trying to collect herself. She looks up in the mirror.
We see that her eyes are swollen, tear-stained.
INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY
She walks out of the ladies room, drying her face with a
paper towel.
SOUNDS of a nearby argument catch her attention.
JEREMY (OS)
...how many times I gotta tell you,
man: we can't accept this!
EMT (OS)
Well, what the hell else am I suppose
to do with it?
Susan heads in the direction of the voices.
INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY NEAR MORGUE
An ORDERLY (JEREMY) argues with an EMT. Their point of
contention: a small FORM lying on a stretcher.
JEREMY
Take it out back and throw it in the
friggin' dumpster!
EMT
Not unless somebody signs for it.
Susan walks toward them, catches sight of the tiny form.
Her eyes go wide.
SUSAN
Oh, my God.
Jeremy notices her.
JEREMY
Hey, you can't...
SUSAN
What's your name?
JEREMY
Jeremy...
SUSAN
Okay, Jeremy...go get Dr. Chris
Raymond, will you?
JEREMY
Lady...
SUSAN
Did you hear me? Get Dr. Raymond!
NOW!!
Jeremy hesitates. But if her tone wasn't enough, the
stare she gives him certainly is.
JEREMY
Okay.
Jeremy backs away, takes off down the hall.
Susan approaches the stretcher.
SUSAN
(To EMT)
Where'd you find it?
EMT
Washed up at the filtration plant on
Bank street. Some asshole there
thought it was a baby. They called
us.
Susan bends over it. She covers her mouth and nose at
the stench.
EMT
It's a lobster, right?
But it's not. What lies on the stretcher before them
looks more like a demon from a Brueghel painting.
A THREE FOOT INSECT. It's mephitic, pink-white body is
rotten, falling apart. The head's intact, with strange,
large jaws thrown wide open. The chitin on one is half
gone.
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY LOCKER ROOM
Josh deposits a backpack full of equipment on the floor,
along with a small acrylic cage. Peter trains his FLASHLIGHT
into the bank of lockers.
Leonard, weary and pissed, looks at his watch.
LEONARD
Better hurry it up, Doc. My shift's
almost over.
Josh hands him a piece of paper.
PETER
Guess someone requested you for
overtime...buddy.
Peter braces his legs and tries to push the whole bank of
lockers clear--the locker section tips and falls with an
ENORMOUS BANG, which echoes loudly off the tile walls. Dust
flies everywhere.
When the dust settles and flashlights are focussed on the
area of the wall where the lockers stood, we see a LARGE
HOLE.
CUT TO:
INT. MORGUE - DAY
Using a steel probe, Susan examines the dead insect.
SUSAN
Posterior sternites are gone...half the
protonum rotted off.
Raymond lifts one of the wings. A CLUMP OF WHITE LARVAE
feasts on the flesh underneath.
RAYMOND
Maggots...
SUSAN
Near hatching. Thing must've died about
three weeks ago.
Susan closes the mandibles and examines them.
SUSAN
Do you have a polaroid?
CUT TO:
INT. SUBWAY TRACKS
Water DRIPPING from overhead, ECHOING footsteps- very
spooky. Leonard leads Peter and Josh down the tunnel-
LEONARD
You all watch your step. We got some
burrows goin' down seven stories
here. You fall, I don't wanna have to
come pick you up.
JOSH
(Whisper to Peter)
New York's finest.
Monumental archways give way to naves as big as Notre Dame.
Josh flashes the ultra-violet light over an abandoned
underground encampment, made of cardboard walls, electrical
wiring, elaborate debris kitchens. The walls are completely
taken by layer after layer of hand carved initials and
messages. Everything from "Kilroy was here" to
elaborate quotations from the bible.
JOSH
There's really people living down here?
LEONARD
Mole people. This section was pretty
popular, all the way to Fulton Street...
Their flashlights shine in a haze of brown dust. The air is
heavy.
LEONARD
Substance abusers, mental cases... Then
about a year ago, Poof! All gone. Rumors
got started... Someone found a couple of
stiffs...
They work their way down a steep incline. They're covered in
sweat.
LEONARD
Down here's the land of talk, see? So the
wildest version goes the farthest. They
mark that area with a sign or a drawing,
and its as good as closed.
(chuckles)
We had one fella... for years said he was
Bela Lugosi. Got him on Geraldo.
Peter's cellular rings. He picks up -big static-
INTERCUT WITH:
MORGUE
Susan's got the phone up on her shoulder, clamped against her
ear. Raymond's cranking out a bunch of Polaroids. Color shots
of the insect, from every angle.
SUSAN
It's me. Can you hear me?
PETER
(phone, barely audible)
Yeah, barely. We haven't found
anything down here. Nothing...
Jeremy goes to the fridge for a beer.
SUSAN
I have.
The fridge light plays over the large insects jaws. It makes
out a few new ridges and valleys. Raymond snaps a couple of
Polaroids.
SUSAN
I'm on my way. I've got something for you
to look at...
Susan notices something weird and undefinable about the
contours of the claws... But she can't put her finger on
it.
BACK AT THE TUNNEL
PETER
We'll be back at the platform in...
LEONARD
20 minutes. If you don't go sight-seeing
anymore.
PETER
(To phone.)
20 minutes.
(Beat.)
Susan?
The call is lost. Peter tries to change frequencies, but it's
useless.
Peter replaces the phone in his pocket. He walks off.
LEONARD
Funny. Shoulda seen some track
bunnies by now.
JOSH
What?
LEONARD
Track bunnies. Rats. They're
usually around.
No one notices the OVERCOAT MAN carving on the wall.
CUT TO:
INT. MANNY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
On Manny's dining room table, a heap of unpolished shoes has
accumulated. The radio is playing a sad, elegiac Tango.
MANNY
No, no, please understand... I can't
wait that long.
Looking disheveled and tired, Manny clutches the phone,
listening intently.
MANNY
Please. I write it down.
(he writes)
2... 8... 7... 3. What does this mean
"case number"? Okay. So, now what? When
can you...?
He holds a color snapshot of Chuy sitting on a mailbox.
MANNY
No, I can't wait...no, listen...
Click. Manny slowly hangs up. He stares at his notepad, at
the number 2873.
MANNY
Hijos de puta.
He crumples it up, throws it away, crosses to the window,
picks up Chuy's last wire figure-
FIGURE, CLOSER
Another human-looking figure, long and thin, but with
something slightly off about it.
It has six limbs instead of four!
MANNY
frowns, looks down at the dark flophouse across the street.
MANNY
Mr. Funny Shoes.
Distant thunder is heard.
BATHROOM CABINET
Manny takes a STRAIGHT RAZOR from the bathroom cabinet, opens
the blade.
EXT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY
Susan arrives at the stairs leading down to the subway
station. A COUPLE passes her on their way up.
A sign over the entrance says "STATION WILL CLOSE FOR REPAIRS
AT 3 PM - TOKENS ONLY". Susan looks around- the area is semi-
deserted, a bit creepy.
She takes a deep breath, descends.
INT. SUBWAY - DAY
Susan pushes through the turnstile, enters the long corridors
of gleaming tile, a somewhat de-humanizing atmosphere, | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 新版美剧 |
 英语听力 |
 经典美剧 |
 英文名著 |
|
翻译辅导 |
考试题库 |
阅读进阶 |
下载中心 |
VOA英语广播收听技巧（2）
FlashFXP下载