" T E R M I N A T O R "
Available for download here.
Gale Anne Hurd
March 11, 1984
March 19, 1984 revision pages
MAIN TITLES - CHAPTER ONE
ARRIVAL OF THE TERMINATOR CHAPTER TWO.
A1 TITLE SEQUENCE - SLITSCAN EFFECT A1
1 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 1
Gradually the sound of distant traffic becomes audible.
A LOW ANGLE bounded on one side by a chain-link fence and on the other by the one-story public school buildings.
Spray-can hieroglyphics. A Los Angeles public school in a blue collar neighborhood.
ANGLE BETWEEN SCHOOL BUILDINGS, where a trash dumpster looms in a LOW ANGLE. A CAT crosses FRAME.
CLOSE ON CAT, which freezes, alert, sensing something just beyond human perception.
A sourceless wind rises, and with it a keening WHINE.
Papers blow across the pavement.
The cat YOWLS and hides under the dumpster.
Windows rattle in their frames.
The WHINE intensifies, accompanied now by a wash of frigid PURPLE LIGHT. A CONCUSSION like a thunderclap right overhead blows in all the windows facing the yard.
C.U. - CAT, its eyes are wide as the glare dies.
1A/FX ANGLE - DUMPSTER 1A/FX
ELECTRICAL DISCHARGES arc from the dumpster to a water faucet and climb a drain pipe like a Jacob's Ladder.
2 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 2
SLOW PAN as the sound of stray electrical CRACKLING subsides.
FRAME comes to rest on the figure of a NAKED MAN kneeling, faced away, in the previously empty yard.
He stands, slowly.
The man is in his late thirties, tall and powerfully built, moving with graceful precision.
He is the TERMINATOR.
He glances down, taking calm inventory of himself, and notices that a fine white ash covers his skin. He brushes at it unconcernedly as he walks toward the fence, scanning his surroundings.
2A/FX CRANE SHOT - SCHOOLYARD/CITY - NIGHT 2A/FX
CAMERA MOVES UP as Terminator approaches the schoolyard fence beyond which is an embankment rolling down in darkness to the cityscape below. The night clouds are shot through with occasional flashes of LIGHTNING, presaging a thunderstorm.
Terminator stands, hands on hips in perfect symmetry, gazing down at the city as the CAMERA REACHES FULL HEIGHT.
3 EXT. PLAYGROUND - NIGHT 3
A beer bottle SMASHES on the ground. PULL BACK to include its ex-owner and his two compatriots, YOUTH GANG MEMBERS, lounging on the jungle gym of a deserted playground. They sport nondescript PUNK REGALIA...torn T-shirts, fatigue pants, combat boots or high-top sneakers, leather jackets.
The leader notices something and sits up.
Hey, hey...what's wrong with this picture?
Seen past the lounging toughs, Terminator walks into a pool of streetlight, striding purposefully toward them.
They slide from their perches and drop easily to the ground like liquid shadows.
Nice night for a walk, eh?
Terminator stops in front of them.
Nice night for a walk.
They surround him, all swagger and malicious good humor.
Washday tomorrow, huh? Nothing clean, right?
Terminator eyes them without expression, unhurried.
Nothing clean. Right.
This guy's a couple bricks short.
Terminator turn to the second punk, ignoring the others.
Your clothes. Give them to me.
The punks exchange glances, dismayed.
Fuck you, asshole.
Without warning Terminator hammer-punches him in the temple, flinging him with a CLANG into the jungle gym. He drops to the ground in a still heap.
The leader whips out his SWITCHBLADE and slashes in one motion. Terminator catches the knife-wielder's wrist in an inhuman grip. He punches the leader with piledriver force just below the breastbone.
ANGLE - PAVEMENT, as the knife clatters down. The punk's combat boots are on tiptoe, barely touching the ground.
ANGLE - TWO SHOT, Terminator and the leader close together.
The punk's eyes are wide, his veins distended with an agonizing pressure. Terminator jerks his fist back with a WET SOUND and the other drops OUT OF FRAME.
The last tough is stumbling away, gaping with terror. He backs into a chainlink fence, turns to run along it, finds he is in a corner.
Terminator takes a step toward him, his gaze ominous.
The punk begins shakily stripping off his clothes.
Thunder peals overhead.
4 OMITTED 4
REESE'S ENTRANCE - CHAPTER THREE
5 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 5
Another part of the city. Seedy apartments and storefronts.
SLOW DOLLY into the mouth of a narrow alley lined with trash containers and fire escapes. From a recessed doorway, an angry, inarticulate DRUNKARD'S MONOLOGUE rises occasionally above the rain sounds.
The derelict is roused from his bitter stupor by a brilliant purple glare. A shockwave hurls trash into the air.
Painted over windows shatter.
Rats scurry, blinded.
A FIGURE drops INTO FRAME as if out of the sky and smacks the pavement with a muddy splash.
C.U. - DERELICT, as he blinks at the fading glare, amazed.
A NAKED MAN, compact and muscular, rises in a defensive crouch. KYLE REESE is 26, his face hard, eyes grim. A scar traverses one side of his face. Other scars, from burns and bullets, mar his hard-muscled body.
Electrical ARCS lace back and forth between the fire escapes behind him. He spins, hearing a scream of animal agony.
Reese lurches to his feet and sprints across the alley.
5A/6 OMITTED 5A/6
7 EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT 7
Reese descends to the alley floor and crosses to the drunk huddled in the doorway.
Reese crouches down as if to speak to the drunk.
Say, buddy...did you see a real bright light?
8 EXT. ALLEY/SAME - NIGHT 8
A brilliant white glare stabs into the alley mouth as an LAPD cruiser glides slowly by on the street. The search-light illuminates the figure of Reese, crouching over the sprawled drunk, just pulling on the other's trousers.
The cruiser chirps to a stop. The doors fly open and two cops leap out.
Hold it, right there!
Reese hitches his pants and bolts like a shot. The cops draw their guns and race into the alley after him.
HANDHELD CAMERA or PANAGLIDE, rushing with Reese along the narrow alley. He vaults a pile of tumbled trashcans.
Whips around a corner. Leaps the hood of a parked car in the cross alley.
9 EXT. CROSS ALLEY - NIGHT 9
REESE hits a chain link gate at a dead run. Scrambles over it. The cops round the corner a moment later. They separate.
10 OMITTED 10
11 EXT. ALLEY/NEARBY - NIGHT 11
REESE runs full tilt, displaying incredible agility.
ANGLE - ALLEY MOUTH, Reese flashes though intermittent cross-lighting in the B.G.
Another unit arrives out front and Reese melts back into the alley, only to see a cop round the corner behind him.
Sandwiched. Reese crashes into a steel door, rending the lock, and vanishes into the darkness within.
12 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 12
Reese finds himself among the display racks of a discount department store. A searchlight stabs in the front window as he dashes into the maze of aisles.
Three cops enter behind him through the shattered door.
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH REESE, as he crab-runs low among the moving shadows where flashlights quarter the darkness. He bolts the open space behind a display window. Sees the outside searchlight sweep toward him. Freezes.
ANGLE ON REESE, his feral face frozen among the smooth-featured, smiling mannequins. As the light passes, Reese silently moves on.
ANGLE - COP, passing the end of a long aisle B.G. while in the F.G. a hand ENTERS FRAME, removing a long overcoat from a hanger. Reese does a fast crab-walk across the aisles to melt into the other racks and shadows.
13 OMITTED 13
14 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 14
TRACKING WITH REESE as he rounds a corner on the run, still shrugging into his long coat.
Running smack at him is another cop, gun aimed.
Without slowing, Reese leaps toward him, twisting in mid-air like a cat. The cop FIRES. Misses. Goes down under Reese's tackle and they slide together on the polished floor.
Before they even come to rest, Reese snatches the cop's gun, aiming it at the other's face two-handed.
What day is it? The date...
A SHOT whines off the metal side of an escalator behind Reese's head. He vaults the escalator rail, leaving the amazed cop lying on the floor.
Reese bounds up the frozen steps, pocketing the .38 Police Special in his coat.
Cops dash through the maze of aisles, converging at the escalators.
15 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE/SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT 15
WHIP PANNING WITH REESE, as he hurtles between displays.
He stops for a moment beside a rack of shoes. Slaps one of a pair of tennis shoes sole-to-sole against his bare foot.
Too small. Another. Holding the shoes he runs on.
16 EXT. SECOND FLOOR FIRE ESCAPE LANDING - NIGHT 16
A door opens quietly and Reese slips out.
CAMERA TRACKS WITH HIM as he moves like a panther along the narrow catwalk. TILT DOWN to include the first LAPD cruiser parked at the mouth of the alley.
17 EXT. ALLEY/STREET - NIGHT 17
Reese drops cat-like beside the unattended police car.
Cautiously, he opens the door of the cruiser, removes the RIOT GUN, an Ithaca pump model, from the dash rack and slips it under his coat. Cradled in a vertical position, the shortened weapon is virtually invisible.
He walks out onto the street and away, unhurriedly, an innocuous pedestrian soon lost in the night.
18 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 18
Reese enters a telephone booth. Harsh light rakes across his face, outlining the long scar. He opens the directory, leafs through it.
ANGLE - MACRO ON PAGE, Reese's finger slides down a column.
Stops beside the following listings in the big metropolitan
CONNOR, SARAH ANN
CONNOR, SARAH J.
SARAH CONNOR - CHAPTER FOUR
19 EXT. CITY STREET - MORNING 19
A typical L.A. morning of diffuse sunlight.
MOVING WITH A GIRL on a MOPED as she zips through traffic.
SARAH CONNOR is 19, pretty in a flawed, accessible way.
Sarah maneuvers nimbly, apparently in a hurry.
20 EXT. BIG JEFF'S RESTAURANT - DAY 20
Sarah buzzes into the parking lot of Big Jeff's Family Restaurant and chains the moped to the icon of Big Jeff himself. The fiberglass cherub holds up his mammoth hamburger in perpetual homage to whatever deity watches out for fat kids.
Sarah removes a stack of college textbooks from the luggage carrier and turns to go into the restaurant.
(to Big Jeff)
Watch this for me, big buns.
21 INT. BIG JEFF'S/DINING AREA - DAY 21
Sarah enters, crossing through the counter area amid the bustle of the lunch rush.
She falls in briefly alongside NANCY, a plump gum-chewing waitress who is hurriedly tying on her apron.
So am I
22 OMITTED 22
23 INT. CORRIDOR - DAY 23
Sarah bangs through the swinging staff door and approaches the time-card rack.
She inserts her card in the punch clock.
MACRO ON CARD: "SARAH CONNOR"
The punch-clock CLUNKS loudly.
24/ 25 OMITTED 24/25
26 INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY 26
TIGHT ON LOCKER DOOR as it slams shut, revealing Sarah transformed into a Big Jeff's girl:
Hair in a bun and a milk-maid uniform with a short, flared skirt.
She ponders the absurdity of her reflection in the mirror.
Pinches her cheeks. Smiles vacuously.
Hi, I'm Sarah and I'll be you waitress.
I'm so fucking wholesome.
26A INT. DINING AREA - DAY 26A
Sarah runs the gauntlet between tables, precariously balancing two full dinner plates on one arm and hand-carrying a third.
She sidesteps a hyperactive kid bouncing along the aisle on a jump-ball.
Nancy squeezes past her, going the other way.
I'm in it.
So am I.
A customer tugs on her apron for attention and she barely averts contributing the chili size to his wardrobe.
Honey, can I get that coffee now?
Yes sir, just a second.
She reaches her table after near collisions with a Mexican busboy and two teenage girls doing cheerleading routines in lock-step.
Who gets the Burly Beef?
I ordered Barbeque Beef.
Does mine come with fries?
He's got the Barbeque Beef, I've got a Chili-Beef Deluxe.
Okay, who gets the Burly Beef?
CUSTOMER AT NEXT TABLE
Miss, we're ready to order.
In the process of setting down all the plates Sarah knocks over someone's water glass.
Oh, sorry. That's not real leather, is it?
As she cleans up the spill, a kid at the next booth reaches over and dumps a scoop of ice cream into the tip pouch of Sarah's apron.
She stares down at the mess melting over her hard-earned and sags with defeat. Nancy stops beside her to whisper:
Look at it this way: in a hundred years, who's gonna care?
27 INT./EXT. BEIGE STATION WAGON - DAY 27
Terminator crosses a small parking lot, approaching a nondescript station wagon.
He punches in the side window.
Unlocks it. Gets in.
With a blow from the heel of his hand Terminator smashes loose the ignition assembly and strips the wires with a brutal twist of his fingers. Touching the proper wires he starts the car.
28 OMITTED 28
28A EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 28A
Terminator walks past the long display window of an enormous pawnshop emporium. Signs declare, among other things, GUNS and AMMO is red block letters.
Terminator passes the appliance section, and the pictures on a row of TV sets distort and break-up sequentially as he walks by, returning to normal behind him.
He enters the store.
29 INT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 29
TIGHT ON GLASS COUNTERTOP as an AR-180 ASSAULT RIFLE WITH SCOPE is laid beside a number of other guns: a COLT K-MODEL .45 ACP, a SMITH AND WESSON .38 FOUR-INCH.
...the Remington 1100 Autoloader...
WIDE as the CLERK, who looks like a sick lizard, pallid and paunchy, takes the rifle from a wall rack. He lays it beside the arsenal of perfectly legal anti-human artillery already on the glass counter.
Terminator scans expressionlessly for additional selections.
A phased plasma pulse-laser in the forty watt range...
Just what you see, pal.
He indicates the display case and wall racks with a minimal gesture.
The Uzi 9 millimeter.
(setting it out)
You know your weapons, buddy.
Terminator examines each in turn, working the actions with curt, precise movements.
Any one of them's ideal for home defense. Which'll it be?
The clerk digs deep and finds a scrap of a smile.
Maybe I'll close early.
He turns around, fumbling in a drawer for the registration papers. Terminator picks up a box of shotgun shells.
There'll be a fifteen day wait on the handguns, but you can take the rifles today if you...
Seeing Terminator loading shells into the shotgun.
He raises the barrel and pulls the trigger. The gun THUNDERS.
FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE - CHAPTER FIVE
30 EXT. GAS STATION/PHONE BOOTH - DAY 30
The beige station wagon pulls to a stop beside a single phone booth.
MOVING WITH TERMINATOR, as he gets out, walks to the booth and rapidly pulls its occupant out by his greasy T-shirt, flinging him backward into the parking lot. The guy is bear-like, slab-handed, but Terminator doesn't even glance back as he steps in to take the man's place.
31 INT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY 31
A woman's voice, a faint reedy monologue, issues from the dangling receiver.
Terminator leafs rapidly through the directory.
ANGLE - C.U. PAGES FLIPPING
ANGLE - MACRO SHOT, as Terminator's finger comes to rest beside a now-familiar listing:
31A INT/EXT. SERVICE TUNNEL - DAY 31A
TIGHT ON KYLE REESE'S HANDS as they make the last few strokes with a hacksaw to sever the wooden stock from the riot gun. It clatters to the ground, leaving a short stump, like a pistol grip.
CUT WIDER as Reese hefts the weapon. He is crouched in an underground service tunnel below a busy street. Shadows of people walking across a grating in the sidewalk above him flicker past. He checks the gun's action carefully. He slips it under his overcoat where it hangs from a jerry-rigged sling.
31B EXT. STREET - DAY 31B
Reese emerges from a stairwell behind a service station, his overcoat done up to the top button.
He walks through the sparse morning crowd on the cluttered, commercial street.
He is out of sync.
A stranger in a strange land.
He moves among the unconcerned pedestrians, cautious and feral. His eyes flick rapidly about.
He moves forward purposefully.
32 OMITTED 32
33 EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY 33
ANGLE on a standard-issue L.A. suburban street with kids racing tricycles B.G.
LOW ANGLE with the FRAME comprising a single house, toy-littered lawn and mailbox. EXTREME F.G., by the curb, is a CHILD'S PLASTIC TRUCK.
There is the sound of a CAR ENGINE approaching, and the front of the beige station wagon appears, stopping at the curb. Its front tire crushes the toy.
PANAGLIDE ON TERMINATOR, preceding him as he steps out of the car, pauses by the mailbox to check the name, and strides toward the house.
A YOUNG BOY, playing in the driveway, watches him pass. The boy's DOG, a small Terrier, growls low and mean, crouching back from Terminator.
He rings the doorbell and waits, motionless.
The door opens a few inches, held by a security chain, revealing a young, slightly overweight housewife.
TIGHT ON SECURITY CHAIN as it breaks, splinters flying.
The woman staggers back, staring in dumb amazement.
Terminator draws the .45 smoothly from inside his jacket...cocks the slide.
LOW ANGLE ON TERMINATOR, lowering the barrel. He methodically fires four more rounds into the body OUT OF FRAME below.
Turns and walks away past the terrified child in the driveway.
33A/ 33B/33C/33D/33E OMITTED 33A/33B/33C/33D/ 33E
34 CHANGED TO 31A/B 34
35/ 35A OMITTED 35/35A
36 INT. BIG JEFF'S/SERVICE CORRIDOR - DAY 36
Sarah opens the swing door with her back, calling over her shoulder to the day manager.
I'm on break, Chuck.
Carla's got my station.
As she approaches the locker room where the girls take their coffee breaks, the door bursts open and Nancy beckons to Sarah.
Hurry up. It's about you...
I mean sort of...Come on!
37 INT. BIG JEFF'S/BREAK ROOM - DAY 37
Nancy guides Sarah to the small black and white portable TV in the corner. Two other girls, smoking cigarettes with their shoes off and nyloned feet on the table, are already watching. One glances at Sarah.
You're gonna love this.
They huddle around the set, intent on a newscast in progress.
...and a police spokesman at the scene refused to speculate on a motive of the execution-style slaying of the Encino housewife. He did however say that an accurate description of the suspect has been compiled from several witnesses. Once again, Sarah Connor, thirty-five, mother of two, brutally shot to death in her home this afternoon.
In other late-breaking news, Teamster representatives have issued a statement as the strike deadline rapidly approaches...
As the news grinds on, Sarah gazes at the screen. Nancy claps her on the shoulder, laughing.
You're dead, honey.
38 EXT. HEALTH CLUB - DUSK 38
Sunlight is dying when Sarah swings her moped to the curb in front of the 'GOOD LIFE SPA', a large, crowded health club.
39 INT. HEALTH CLUB/AEROBICS STUDIO - DUSK 39
MUSIC BOOMS and masses of leotarded cellulite sway in close F.G. as CAMERA DOLLIES along a row of panting, stretching women. In deep B.G. Sarah slips in through the door and waits against the wall while the human dynamo, GINGER VENTURA, leads the class energetically. Ginger, Sarah's roommate is a party-stopper. Red-haired, athletic, sensuous.
She's pretty enough when still, but stunning in motion.
And she's in motion.
Ginger yells commands and cheerfully dives into contortions
to the BEAT of an R&B FAVORITE.
MARCO, a handsome, well-defined guy wearing a tight STAFF T-shirt, strolls up for a drink at the water fountain next to Sarah.
Hi. I've seen you around.
Aren't you Ginger's roommate?
That's right. I'm Sarah.
Yeah, right. I'm Marco.
The dance tape ends.
...and three aaand four! And that's it ladies! Now, didn't that feel great?
The group collapses ensemble. A chorus of groans.
Let's think positive or next time I'll play the long version.
Ginger walks over to Sarah as the class disperses. Marco is leaning on the wall next to Sarah, who is enjoying the attention.
...yeah, really? Say something in Italian.
Before Marco can reply, Ginger pulls the front of his gym shorts out and peers down. She shakes her head.
You're wasting your time, kiddo.
She grabs Sarah by the arm and pulls her out the door.
Sarah catches a glimpse of Marco's expression over her shoulder as the door closes.
40 INT. HEALTH CLUB/STAIRS AND CORRIDOR - DUSK 40
PANAGLIDE WITH THE TWO GIRLS, as they descend to the first floor and enter a hallway.
Sarah is gasping with laughter.
I don't believe you did that.
Ginger is adjusting her ever-present PORTABLE CASSETTE PLAYER at her hip. She slips on the earphones as they walk along.
Sarah feigns outrage.
I had him in the palm of my hand.
He was just about to ask me out.
I could tell.
That guy's a jerk. I did you a favor.
I'll do the same for you sometime.
Sarah laughs and claps her friend on the back. They turn in at a door marked WEIGHT ROOM.
41 INT. WEIGHT ROOM - DUSK 41
SEVERAL ANGLES, on glistening arms, legs, torsos merging into bio-mechanical kinetic sculptures with the chrome-steel levers and tubes. The CRASH and SQUEAL of metal against metal.
In F.G., two Conan-esque arms thrust upward, glistening.
Ginger's boyfriend, MATT McCALLISTER, the assistant manager of the club, strains out his last reps, bench-pressing enormous weight on the weight machine.
Despite his imposing appearance, Matt is one of the warmest people you'd ever want to meet.
His face is contorted, muscles knotted for the last push.
He heaves it up with a guttural cry.
Lowering his weights with a clang, Matt lies panting, arms dangling at his side, eyes closed.
A pair of female legs appear.
Matt opens his eyes.
You think somebody's gonna do this for you? Look at those bi's. Pathetic.
And you haven't worked lat's or ab's since Wednesday.
Had a rough day, sweetheart?
Come here, wimp.
She leans down as he sits up and they meet in a kiss that's bad for the other guys' discipline.
Sarah waits until they break the clinch to speak.
Matt look backwards over the bench, and replies, upside-down.
Heeey! Sarah. Hi babe.
Ginger pulls the pin on Matt's weights and re-inserts it beneath the entire stack, the maximum weight.
Alright, back to work, Bunky.
Ginger readjusts her headphones as the two girls walk away.
Two weightlifters nearby look at each other, than at Matt.
42 EXT. HEALTH CLUB/STREETS - DUSK 42
Sarah lurches away from the curb on her moped, almost spilling Ginger who is attempting to ride double. They swing out onto a main thoroughfare and careen through the bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Sarah maneuvers deftly though overloaded and unstable.
Ginger doesn't know whether to laugh of scream at the near-misses.
She does both.
43 OMITTED 43
MEMORIES OF THE FUTURE - CHAPTER SIX
44 EXT. STREET/CONSTRUCTION SITE - DUSK 44
Under an overpass, Reese sits is a car watching the powerful machines moving earth at an excavation site B.G.
He's in a late-model non-descript charcoal gray Ford LTD, one of a row of cars gathering dirt beside the construction site. Crab-armed back-hoes and massive caterpillars ROAR through a curtain of dust, under intense floodlights.
A power-shovel moves its great arm, lighting its own way with an arc-light.
45 INT. GREY FORD LTD - DUSK 45
Reese sits motionless in the dark. Waiting. The clock in the dash ticks quietly.
He flips on the radio. A fatuous POP ROCK STATION.
Reese fishes a magazine off the dirty floor.
He flips the pages of COSMOPOLITAN.
His head sags against the door.
He gazes dully at the tracks of a passing CATERPILLAR they chew through the dirt.
The ROAR and CLATTER of treads intensifies as his eyes close.
46 EXT. MELTED RUINS - NIGHT 46
TIGHT ON A GLEAMING STEEL TREAD as it grinds through debris.
The debris is ferroconcrete, girders, and jackstraw heaps of HUMAN BONES, burned black.
There is the sound of EXPLOSIONS, distant, and an intermittent electronic WHINE. Incredibly bright searchlights play over the ground. PANNING with the moving treads through twisted wreckage, F.G.
The screen WHITES OUT with a BLAST, very close. As the debris clatters down, a helmeted head snaps up into FRAME, EXTREME F.G.
The visor of the HIGH-TECH HELMET has been shattered by the explosion. The wearer rips it off, revealing Reese, minus his burn scar.
Reese looks over his shoulder at his teammate, a GIRL of about sixteen, gaunt, dirty, heavily armed like himself.
DOLLYING as they start to belly crawl through the bones and wreckage.
Reese looks up.
Through spires of a collapsed building a terrifying SPHINX-LIKE SHAPE moves against the sky...obscured by dust and blinding sweeps of its searchlights.
Though we see little, this is an H-K, Hunter-Killer mobile ground-unit.
Reese crawls, pacing the H-K, under and through, on elbows and knees, past mounds of charred skulls. They pass the BODY OF A CHILD, a boy of about 10, center-punched with a smoking hole. The boy clutches a rifle. More bodies.
Some in rags, some in uniforms like theirs. WOMEN. OLD MEN. CHILDREN. They're all dirty and gaunt, scabrous. And still bleeding. Reese scrabbles past a dark rat-hole and there are human rats in it.
Soldiers in a nightmare war.
Reese and his teammate stop behind a blasted wall, having outflanked the massive H-K. Its flashing blue lights flick across the walls, its searchlights sear through the debris.
WIDER, showing the H-K more clearly...a blast-scarred CHROME LEVIATHAN, with huge underslung GUN TURRETS.
Reese leaps up and straight-arms a satchel-charge into its path. One tread rolls over the explosive.
Guns and searchlights swivel. The head turns ponderously.
Reese's partner rises, poised to throw hers.
A POWER-BOLT catches her at the top of her arc, BLOWING HER INTO RED MIST.
Reese is knocked down by the concussion. Gets up, running, as the charges blow.
The H-K's tread carriers are RIPPED APART.
It lurches to a stop, burning.
The following SEQUENCE is extremely FORESHORTENED.
CUT FAST. IMPRESSIONS ONLY.
LOW ANGLE, up past the burning H-K as its flying counter-part, an AERIAL H-K, arcs into view with a TURBOJET WHINE.
Reese hauls two survivors of his unit into a PERSONNEL CARRIER, a CHEVY CAMARO with steel plate welded over it and the roof cut away to access the 50 CALIBER MACHINE GUN.
They're driving through the ruins, up and over and through.
Reese drives like a demon.
A BLACK SHAPE descends, a demon with searchlights.
A BOLT OF LIGHT.
Reese's car flips like a kicked beer can, rolling and crumpling. He's pinned in the wreck, bloody, screaming despite his training. The only other survivor, an emaciated BOY of twelve, is pulling for all he's worth to drag Reese out before it burns.
47 OMITTED 47
48 INT. GREY FORD LTD - NIGHT 48
Reese's eyes open in a split-second.
He relaxes slowly, the voltage draining out of him.
He reaches for the dangling ignition wires, starting the car.
49/ 50 OMITTED 49/50
51 EXT. STREET/OVERPASS - NIGHT 51
Lit by the streetlights, the car moves away with its lights off and vanishes in the shadows.
52 OMITTED 52
PHONE BOOK RAMPAGE - CHAPTER SEVEN
53 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 53
Sarah and Ginger are crammed into the tiny bathroom, becoming inextricably tangled in each other's cords as they blow-dry, curl hair, and apply make-up. Ginger has her headphones inverted under her chin but in place, and is bouncing to music as she dries her hair. She is wearing a short kimono that reveals the greater part of her legs. Sarah is in a camisole.
The phone rings and Sarah goes out into the living room to get it.
(answering the phone)
(on phone, deep and breathy)
First I'm going to rip the buttons off your blouse, one by one...then run my tongue along your neck, down to your bare, gleaming breasts...
Sarah cups her hand over the mouthpiece and calls out matter-of-factly:
Ginger! It's Matt.
She resumes listening.
...and then slowly pull your jeans off inch by inch and lick your belly in circles, further and further down...then I'll pull off your panties with my teeth...
Sarah is repressing her laughter.
Who is this?
Silence. Then Matt realizes to his horror who he's been talking to.
Oh my God! Sarah! Oh, shit.
Jesus, I'm sorry. I thought you were...Can I talk to Ginger?
As Ginger approaches, Sarah hands her the receiver and goes the bedroom.
First I'm gonna rip the buttons off your blouse...
54 INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT 54
Sarah picks up four blouses on hangers lying on the bed and goes back into the hallway.
55 INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 55
Ginger is still listening to Matt, nodding, as Sarah enters and starts holding the blouses against herself one by one for Ginger's inspection.
What do you think?
(covering the mouthpiece)
Sarah holds up another one.
How about this?
You're a big help.
Alright, the peach one.
I hate the peach one.
(same advisory tone)
Don't wear the peach one.
Sarah gathers up the blouses and walks out.
This guy's probably a schmuck and I don't care what I wear.
A couple of BEATS, and she's back in the doorway with a concerned expression.
You think the peach?
56 EXT. MULHOLLAND HOUSE - NIGHT 56
An unmarked car with a clamp-on light flashing passes through the gates and down the winding driveway of a chic house off Mulholland Drive.
The car stops among several black and whites and an ambulance.
Cops with flashlights are combing the grounds B.G. as LIEUTENANT ED TRAXLER , Homicide Division, gets out of the car.
He strides towards the house.
He's black, early forties, solid.
He chews gum like a maniac: a chain chewer.
And he's not a smart cop...he's a wise one, rarer still.
57 INT. HOUSE - NIGHT 57
Traxler passes TWO UNIFORMED COPS at the doors as he enters the exquisitely decorated home.
He enters a quiet flurry of activity.
Several DETECTIVES and a PHOTOGRAPHER prowl the room, taking evidence, taking pictures.
In the center of the living room floor is the body of a young woman, crumpled face down in a small pool of blood.
TRAXLER glances up as he is joined by DETECTIVE SGT. VUKOVICH. Vukovich is lean and very jaded.
Give me the short version.
Six shots at less than ten feet. Weapon was a large caliber--
Traxler is looking at the body.
VUKOVICH turns to a passing DETECTIVE.
Come on. man. Don't track it all over. It's unprofessional.
He turns back to Traxler, gesturing at the body.
Okay, let's see...Got a positive on her. Name's Sarah Connor, divorced, lives here by her...
That can't be right. That's the name of the one from Valley Division this afternoon.
Vukovich slips something off his clipboard and hands it to the Lieutenant.
Here's her driver's license.
You gotta be kidding me. The new guys'll be short-stroking it over this one. A one-day pattern killer.
I hate the weird ones.
58 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM - NIGHT 58
Sarah poses with Ginger in front of the mirror. They are dressed, made-up, hair-styled and READY.
(studying their reflection)
Better than mortal man deserves.
Sarah grins and goes into the other room.
BEING WATCHED - CHAPTER EIGHT
59 INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 59
Sarah walks around the room, searching for something.
Ginger, have you seen Pugsley?
Ginger enters, stopping beside their phone answering machine.
Not lately. Did you check messages?
I thought you did.
She checks under the couch, then behind the drapes. She bends down.
(from beside curtains)
Come here young man. Mind your mother.
C.U. - PUGSLEY, as the GREEN IGUANA cocks its head, blinking vapidly.
RESUME WIDE, Sarah lifts the three foot long lizard from his perch on the windowsill.
Sarah drapes the lizard across her shoulders where it sits contentedly as she looks for her purse. Ginger has been rewinding the message tape. She punches PLAY and a MALE VOICE is heard.
Hi, Sarah...Stan Morsky.
Uh, something's come up and it looks like I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm really sorry. Call you in a day or so.
Sarah stands still, crestfallen.
That bum. So what if he has a Porsche, he can't treat you like that...it's Friday night for crissakes.
I'll break his kneecaps.
Sarah resignedly slips Pugsley off her shoulders.
You still love me, don't you, Pugsley?
She gives the complacent reptile a kiss on its blunt snout.
Gawd. Nauseating. Really disgusting.
59A INT. LIVING ROOM 59A
Pugsley is munching from a bowl of lettuce in a terrarium with a 'BEWARE OF DOG' sign taped on the side.
Sarah, now in blue-jeans, heads for the front door donning a down-jacket.
She calls to Ginger B.G.
I'm going to a movie, kiddo.
See ya'. You and Matt have a good time.
We will, kiddo.
Sarah yanks open the outside door and GASPS.
Startled by a tall, powerful figure.
She punches him on the arm as she goes out.
60 INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT 60
Sarah is a small figure in the shadowed echoing garage of her building.
She unchains her moped. Senses something.
SARAH'S POV - there is no movement for the length of the garage.
ON SARAH - C.U., inexplicably nervous.
She stows the chain and starts the bike. It whines reassuringly.
Sarah jumps on and whirs out of the garage.
Then from the inky shadows of a stall nearby, the grey Ford LTD rolls forward.
Turns. Follows her.
61 OMITTED 61
62 INT. DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT 62
DOLLYING WITH TRAXLER and VUKOVICH, as they pass through a group of REPORTERS. Mostly newspaper stringers but there is also one bored local TV MINICAM CREW.
...Lieutenant, are you aware that these two killings occurred in the same order as their listings in the phone book?
He and Vukovich enter their office and shut the door.
63 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 63
Traxler drops his gum in the wastebasket, picks up a cup of coffee from his desk and uses it to wash down a handful of aspirins. Vukovich grimaces.
That stuff's two hours cold.
I put a cigarette out in it.
Traxler, lost in thought, turns on him suddenly.
Did you reach the next girl yet?
No. Keep getting an answering machine.
Send a unit.
I sent a unit. No answer at the door and the apartment manager's out.
I just called.
Call her again.
Vukovich picks up the phone and begins to dial her number as Traxler sets down his coffee cup, unwraps a stick of gum and pops it in his mouth.
Got a cigarette?
64 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 64
CLOSE ON PHONE, connected to the answering machine. The outgoing message triggers after the second ring.
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're talking to a machine, but don't be shy, it's okay. Machines need love too, so talk to it and Ginger, that's me, or Sarah will get back to you. Wait for the beep.
As the message plays, CAMERA DOLLIES OFF the phone machine and down the corridor of the dark apartment. As the bedroom door draws near, Ginger's recorded voice fades and is superseded by CRIES and MOANS.
65 INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT 65
FULL SHOT, framed against the streetlit curtains, Ginger and Matt form a beautiful tableau of lovemaking in silhouette.
Their perfect bodies glisten with backlight as they strain in passion.
CLOSER - TIGHT TWO, revealing that Ginger is wearing her earphones. Matt, reaches out to the night table and thumbs the volume control.
66 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 66
Vukovich hangs up the phone.
I can hear it now, it's gonna be the goddamned 'Phone Book Killer'.
I hate the press cases.
Especially the weird press cases. Where you going?
(heading for the door)
To make a statement. Maybe the jackals can help us out for once.
He looks at his watch, then straightens his tie.
If they can get this on the tube by eleven, she may just call us.
How do I look?
Like shit, boss.
Traxler goes out and the Minicam light hits him as the door closes.
NEWS SHOCK - CHAPTER NINE
67 INT. PIZZA PARLOR - NIGHT 67
TIGHT ON A TV SCREEN, a newscast in progress.
This just in... police have announced the name of the victim in the second of two execution style murders which took place today.
CUT WIDE to show Sarah watching the TV which is suspended over the bar. The place is a crowded, post-movie hangout, raucous with laughter and videogames. The newscast continues ignored by all except Sarah.
...Incredibly, the names of the two victims are virtually identical.
Two hours ago, 35 year-old Sarah Ann Connor was pronounced dead at the scene in her secluded home on Mulholland Drive. An Encino housewife, Sarah Louise Connor, was slain by a lone gunman earlier today in her home...
A customer gestures for the bartender's attention.
Hey, can we change this and catch the ball scores?
Sarah leaps half over the bar, startling everyone.
Leave it where it is!
...Police are refusing to speculate on the apparent similarity between these shooting deaths and no other connection between the two victims has been established as of yet. We'll have more on this latebreaking story as it comes in.
On a lighter note, there was cause for celebration at the L.A. Zoo today, as their first test tube stork...
Sarah leaves her half-finished pizza and beer, getting up in a daze. Followed by puzzled glances, she makes her way through the crowd.
68 INT. PIZZA PARLOR HALLWAY 68
In the crowded hallway by the restrooms, Sarah goes to the single payphone and seizes the directory. She flips rapidly through it, then stops, looking down.
She sees that her name is next on the list.
The book slips out of her fingers.
Sarah backs into the women's restroom.
69 INT. RESTROOM - NIGHT 69
Sarah stumbles numbly to the sink.
She splashes her face with cold water. In the mirror her terrified reflection looks back. Why me?
She hears a loud clatter and spins around.
It's just a drunken woman fumbling with a toilet stall door.
Sarah edges back out into the corridor.
70 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 70
Sarah walks stiffly back to the pay phone.
It's OUT OF ORDER.
71 EXT. STREET/SIDEWALK - NIGHT 71
Sarah exits the pizza place into the sparse crowd on the sidewalk. As she passes a figure leaning against the wall just outside, the man turns his head to watch her.
It is Reese, his gaze impassive.
He is motionless, sinister in his long coat.
Sarah shudders. She walks on quickly.
C.U. - SARAH as she look over her shoulder.
ON PIZZA PARLOR DOORWAY. Reese is gone.
She catches sight of him behind her in the crowd.
On the opposite side of the street an LAPD cruiser glides slowly by. Sarah is about to call out but a bus blocks her view and when it has passed, the car is turning away down a side street.
She passes a large window with STOKER'S written on it, and ducks quickly through the door.
72 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 72
ANGLE THROUGH WINDOW, SARAH F.G., as Reese approaches.
Her knuckles clench white as he reaches the entrance and walks by, unhurriedly, without a glance inside.
She turns and scan the gloomy interior.
It is a new-wave dance club...canned music cranked up, stroboscopic lighting and jostling bodies dressed from trendy to bizarre.
The motif seems to be deco heavy-industry.
Sarah approaches the glazed-eyed girl stamping hands at the door.
Is there a phone here?
The girl nods laconically.
In the back. Four-fifty.
Sarah pays and moves past before the girl can stamp her hand.
Sarah pushes through the unruly throng and makes her way to a payphone near the bar in back.
Her hands are trembling as she drops a dime in the pay phone and dials.
You have reached the Los Angeles Police Department Emergency Number.
All lines are busy. If you need a police car sent out to you, please stay on the line...
Sarah holds the receiver pressed to her ear, glancing around, fear feeding on frustration.
MISTAKEN IDENTITY - CHAPTER 10
73 EXT. SARAH'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 73
An LAPD black-and-white sits at the curb in front of Sarah's building with two cops inside, drinking coffee.
Through the open window we hear the dispatcher's voice on the radio.
...two eleven in progress at liquor store located at corner of Third and Tamarac. One suspect believed to be armed...
The car pulls out with lights and siren on.
A moment later, Terminator rounds the corner of the building and climbs the stairs to the entryway.
He surveys the bank of call buttons, then turns to consider the barred security gate.
74 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 74
PANAGLIDE WITH GINGER as she ties her kimono and, leaving Matt in a dead sleep, pads through the dark apartment.
Down the hall, past the phone with Vukovich's message.
Through the dark living room.
She has her portable cassette in the pocket of her robe and bops to herself in the silent gloom as she enters the kitchen.
When she opens the refrigerator to remove snack fixings, the light briefly illuminates the kitchen and in that moment, SOMETHING MOVES in the F.G.
TIGHT ON GINGER, MOVING WITH HER as she backs toward the counter with her arms full of snack stuff.
A SUDDEN CRASH. A flurry of motion behind her.
She spins, dropping half her load.
Ginger fumbles for the lightswitch.
Revealing Pugsley, sitting there blinking innocently among overturned spice bottles on the counter-top.
Shoo. Go on. I'll make a belt out of you.
Pugsley disappears into a large fern by the window and Ginger sets about her task, slathering crunchy peanut butter on stalks of celery.
75 INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT 75
MEDIUM ON MATT, as rustling curtains play patterns of street-light over his sleeping face.
In the B.G. is the balcony, empty. The sliding door is open.
TIGHT ON MATT, as his eyes open at the sound of a quiet, repeated CLICKING.
UP ANGLE - PAST MATT, as the five-inch blade of an industrial razor-knife reaches full extension in Terminator's hand, right above him.
It slashes viciously downward.
Matt rolls and the pillow is SLIT OPEN where his throat had been.
Terminator catches him by the hair and slashes down again.
Matt grabs his wrist in both hands.
The enormous muscles of his arms, which seem capable of bench-pressing a Chrysler, strain and knot against the pressure of the killer's single arm...
And still the blade moves closer to his throat.
With a final heave Matt deflects the down-pressure sideways and the blade snaps with a CLINK against the headboard.
HANDHELD WITH MATT as he rolls off the bed, spins and slams his fists together into Terminator's temple. He picks up a brass deco lamp and brings it down with piledriver force.
Unperturbed, Terminator knocks the lamp away and hurls Matt over the bed.
76 EXT. BALCONY - NIGHT 76
Matt crashes through the glass doors and slams against the balcony railing.
77 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT 77
Oblivious to the noise, Ginger croons in rock-and-roll ecstasy, singing to a celery stalk as if it were a microphone.
78 EXT./INT. BALCONY AND BEDROOM - NIGHT 78
Matt heaves himself up, his powerful body gleaming with sweat and hurls himself upon the intruder.
The titans CRASH INTO A DRESSER, reducing it to kindling.
Then into the closet door, EXPLODING THE FULL-LENGTH MIRROR.
Terminator places one hand on either side of Matt's barrel chest. SINKS HIS FINGERS INTO THE FLESH. An inhuman grip.
Matt is raised off the floor, contorted with agony, above the other's head.
79 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 79
DOLLY PRECEDING GINGER as she returns from the kitchen with a plate full of celery stalks and a glass of milk. CAMERA passes the closed bedroom door and STOPS, as Ginger pauses to set the plate on top of the glass, freeing one hand to open the door.
AN EXPLOSION OF SPLINTERS in close F.G. as a shape smashes through the door right in front of her...Matt's body propelled halfway through the door by enormous force.
Ginger shrieks and leaps back, flinging milk and all into the air.
The door begins to open but the pressure of Matt's body creates resistance.
Ginger SCREAMS and back away.
The door is wrenched open and Terminator steps through with the massive .45 drawn.
HANDHELD WITH GINGER, the walls blur by as she runs.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR as the pistol RISES INTO FRAME, aligning with his eyes. BOOM!
LOW FAST DOLLY WITH GINGER as the bullet punches into her shoulder, pitching her on her face outside the bathroom door.
LOW WIDE ANGLE as she crawls forward, gasping, drowning.
The implacable figure looms behind her.
Her expression is agony and reeling, nauseating terror.
And incomprehension: Why am I suddenly dying?
Her eyes roll, showing the whites, like a horse tethered in a burning stable.
80 INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT 80
Ginger scrabbles pathetically for a grip in the tile floor as she pulls herself into the bathroom.
She clutches the rim of the toilet.
LOW ANGLE PAST HER, ON TERMINATOR, as he stands behind her.
PAN UP, off her. He takes aim.
And empties the clip.
He calmly reloads.
81 INT. HALLWAY/BEDROOM - NIGHT 81
CLOSE ON PHONE MACHINE, as the telephone rings loudly in the ensuing silence.
Terminator spins, drawing an instantaneous bead on the source of the sound, but doesn't fire.
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're talking to a machine...
C.U. - TERMINATOR, motionless, listening.
...but don't be shy, it's okay.
Machines need love too...
Terminator turns abruptly back to Ginger's body. He turns it over, assuring himself that she is dead.
...so talk to it and Ginger, that's me, or Sarah will get back to you.
Wait for the beep.
There is a loud tone and the incoming call is heard.
Ginger, this is Sarah...
Terminator's head snaps back and he freezes, listening.
He rises slowly as Sarah's voice continues.
TIGHT ON HIS UNBLINKING EYES.
(on machine, continuing)
...I'm in this place called Stoker's on Pico but I'm too scared to leave.
I'm really scared, kiddo...
82 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 82
Sarah cups the telephone's mouthpiece with her hand and glances around frequently.
(continuing, into phone)
...I think somebody's after me and I sure hope you play this soon 'cause I need you and Matt to come pick me up. The police keep transferring me around, but I'm going to try them again.
83 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BEDROOM - NIGHT 83
The number here is 555-9175.
Call me, kiddo. I need you.
It's Stoker's on Pico. Bye.
Terminator is rapidly and methodically rifling the contents of Sarah's small desk. SIREN'S WAIL, approaching.
He picks up a small card.
E.C.U. - CARD. It is Sarah's college I.D. card, complete with color photo of her.
MACRO ON PICTURE.
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR'S EYES as he tosses the card down, after a fraction of a second's scan. Picks up something else.
TIGHT ON SARAH'S ADDRESS BOOK, Terminator pockets this and slips out the balcony door. Climbing over the railing, he is gone.
THE LASTS DAYS OF DISCO - CHAPTER ELEVEN
84 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 84
Sarah is huddled, back to the wall, half-shouting above the music.
(on phone, upset)
...look, Lieutenant...uh, Traxler, don't put me on hold don't transfer me to another department...
85 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 85
I won't. Now just relax.
Where are you?
Yeah, I know it...on Pico.
Are you alright?
86 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 86
Yes, but I don't want to leave. I think this guy's following me.
87 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 87
Alright, Ms. Connor. Listen carefully. You're in a public place, you'll be safe 'til we get there. Stay visible. Don't go outside or in the restroom. I'll be there in a few minutes.
He hangs up and grabs his coat, motioning to Vukovich.
88 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 88
Sarah takes a seat at a booth near the bar. She looks at her watch and glances around.
89 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 89
The beige station wagon hurtles along an empty street.
CLOSER ANGLE as streetlight glare slashes across Terminator's face in flaring pulses.
90 EXT. STREET/INT. PLAIN CAR - NIGHT 90
Traxler draws his .38 special and checks the load. Vukovich is driving.
Let's see how this guy likes playing hard-ball.
91 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 91
Sarah turns, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar.
ON SARAH, reflected in the mirror. In the F.G. a man at the bar looks up from his beer, straight into her eyes.
It is Reese.
He gazes at her coolly for a moment, then glances away.
C.U. - SARAH, feeling trapped, frantic.
ANGLE ON FRONT DOOR as Terminator walks in.
He pushes past the cashier.
A LARGE BOUNCER puts the arm on him.
Terminator removes his hand easily, crushing it.
The bouncer staggers back in pain as Terminator moves into
He crosses the dancefloor, scanning.
Pushing people aside like a bulldozer, leaving a wake of
C.U. - REESE as he mechanically raises his beer. His knuckles are white. He slowly undoes the top button of his overcoat.
There is a glint of metal in the shadows within.
Terminator spots Sarah through the jostling crowd. Moves toward her.
Reese turns on his barstool.
E.C.U. - REESE'S HAND sliding slowly along polished steel, a caress. His finger slips through the triggerguard of the riot gun.
A figure stops beside Sarah's booth. She looks up, Terminator stands motionless for a beat.
The .45 is out and cocked and AIMED DIRECTLY AT CAMERA, almost in one motion.
The bore seems enormous.
BACK TO SARAH, over the gun barrel, her eyes go wide. We hold a BEAT, like a frozen slice of nightmare.
MEDIUM ON REESE as he whips the riot-gun to a hip-firing position, his overcoat falling back with a snap. HE FIRES.
ON TERMINATOR, as the shotgun blast hits his arm and he FIRES, simultaneously. Sarah screams as the .45 round blows stuffing out of the booth seat inches from her face.
Reese is stroking up another shell as Terminator half-rises from the booth.
OVER REESE'S SHOULDER, as he fires, cocks the slide, fires again, advancing on Sarah's booth.
Terminator is blown backward over a divider, crashing through the glasses and pitchers of beer on the table opposite, and onto the floor.
Sarah is screaming, scrunched down in the booth.
Terminator is lying on his back at the feet of a table-full of drunk patrons.
He has two rifled 12 gauge slugs in his chest and one in the arm.
The customers are frozen in the weird tableau, cowering, gaping.
Sarah stops screaming.
Reese stand motionless, gun aimed.
In the sudden silence, the sound of him cocking the shotgun is abnormally loud.
ON TERMINATOR, very still.
Then he smoothly rolls to a crouch and slips the UZI machine-pistol from beneath his overcoat, where it has been hanging on a shoulder strap.
It doesn't seem too impaired as he swings around to fire.
Reese rolls like a cat and comes up firing.
A burst from the UZI rakes the bar where he stood.
An orgy of shattering glass.
SEVERAL ANGLES as patrons of the bar run, scream or dive for cover, depending upon their level of intelligence.
Reese fires, ducks, fires again.
Tables crash over.
A window is blown out.
A table candle rolls into a pool of high-proof alcohol behind the bar.
It ignites with a WHOOSH.
Sarah spins out of her seat and runs for the front door.
A running patron pitches forward into Sarah as he catches a burst of 9mm fire meant for her.
She trips and falls.
She scrambles to rise, buffeted in the stampeding crowd.
Reese is reloading.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, moving forward, an island of slow, precise movement amid the confusion. He drops a spent clip.
Reaches for another with his bloody hand. Slams it in.
The crowd parts...he sees Sarah. A clear shot.
Suddenly, Reese appears behind him, vaulting a row of booths.
At point blank range he unloads the shotgun into Terminator.
92 INT./EXT. STOKER'S/STREET - NIGHT 92
Terminator crashes backwards through two tables and a plate glass window into the street.
93 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 93
The roaring fire behind the bar is spreading very quickly.
The air is thick with smoke.
Reese tosses the UZI, for which he has no ammo, into the fire. He hauls the dead man off Sarah and reaches for her.
TIGHT ON SARAH, shrinking away from Reese, hysterical.
UNKNOWN PROTECTOR - CHAPTER TWELVE
Come with me if you want to live.
She looks where he is pointing.
94 EXT. STOKER'S /STREET - NIGHT 94
Terminator is rising unsteadily to his feet. Shattered glass rains from him, except where it sticks to his blood-drenched shirt and coat.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, as he slowly look up, his eyes riveting STRAIGHT INTO THE CAMERA.
C.U. - SARAH, feeling a lightening bolt of terror greater than she could ever imagine as the cold gaze fixes on her.
Oh my God...
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he clambers back through the window and starts through the burning building.
Reese runs, dragging Sarah with him, toward the back.
Terminator crashes through the wreckage in the swirling smoke, hurling burning tables out of the way.
95/ 96/97 OMITTED 95/96/ 97
98 INT. KITCHEN/HALLWAY/EXIT CORRIDOR - NIGHT 98
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH, running headlong through the cluttered kitchen, then down a narrow back hallway. Sarah stumbles and Reese brutally pulls her to her feet without slowing.
He hits a closed door, which crashes open.
Hauls Sarah through, into another corridor.
Slams and bolt-latches it.
An instant later an impact from the far side tears the latch-screws half out of the wall.
They run on.
99 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 99
Terminator takes a step back from the closed door and slams into it again. It starts to give way.
100 INT./EXT. EXIT CORRIDOR/ALLEY - NIGHT 100
Reese and Sarah pelt down the narrow corridor, fling open the outside door and spin out into the alley.
TIGHT ON DOOR at far end. It splinters open and Terminator sprints down the corridor to the alley.
101/ 102 OMITTED 101/102
103 EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF STOKER'S - NIGHT 103
Traxler's plain car arrives, slewing to a stop in the glass-littered street in front of the blazing building.
He leaps out, Vukovich right behind him.
What the fuck is going on?
TWO LAPD UNITS arrive behind them. Traxler motions to the nearest one.
Cover the alley in back.
He heads for the inferno at a run.
104 EXT. ALLEY BEHIND STOKER'S - NIGHT 104
DOLLYING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they run through the dark alley. Sarah stumbles over trashcans.
Reese pulls her along mercilessly.
WHIP-PANNING as they clear a corner.
105 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 105
Behind them Terminator is moving with inhuman speed, bounding like a panther, leaping trash cans and other obstacles.
106/ EXT. ALLEY/POV - TERMINATOR (HANDHELD) - NIGHT 106/FX
We know this is Terminator's POV because Sarah and Reese are just ahead of us. But the image is bizarre, alien.
Bright and hyper-real, suggesting infra-red.
The margins of the FRAME are crammed with columns of CRT-type characters: columns of numbers and acronyms. The data changes rapidly. There is no doubt that we are seeing as a machine would see.
107 EXT. ADJOINING ALLEY - NIGHT 107
Reese and Sarah turn a corner by caroming off the wall without slowing and pelt down a narrower alley. This one is lined with a row of parked cars and connects to the street. There is little room to run.
Reese is reloading on the run, dropping shells.
Behind them Terminator enters the alley, gaining.
LOW ANGLE, FAST PANAGLIDE ahead of the fleeing pair.
As they reach the last car Reese shoves Sarah hard, pitching her on her face to the pavement.
He flings open the car door...a shield.
Drops to the ground.
Fires into the gas tank of a car further back in the row just before Terminator reaches it.
The car EXPLODES, filling the alley with fire. An inferno funneled between the enclosing walls.
ANGLE ON REESE AND SARAH behind the car door as flames roar over the hood.
ON TERMINATOR, as he slides to a stop, cut off by the wall of flame.
Reese doesn't waste any time stuffing Sarah into the car.
Climbing in after her he twists two wires together and we recognize it as his stolen GREY FORD LTD.
The engine catches.
A SILHOUETTE rockets out of the flames.
Terminator, leaping from the roof of the blazing car ahead, impacts on the hood of Reese's car. His hair and coat are burning.
108 INT./EXT. GREY FORD LTD/ALLEY - NIGHT 108
Reese jams reverse and nails the throttle.
The car backs down the alley.
Terminator draws back his fist.
Punches into the windshield.
Inside, Sarah is sprayed with glass as the killer's fist shoots through.
The lacerated fingers grope for her.
WIDE as the car shoots backwards out of the alley onto the street, narrowly missing a passing car.
Sarah plasters herself tightly into the seat as the fingers grasp her blouse and pull.
Reese cranks the wheel hard.
109 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 109
The sedan skids, slewing sideways into a parked car.
Terminator is thrown off onto the pavement.
Reese's car hurtles forward.
Terminator rolls to a kneeling position, then slowly stands.
He pats out his smoldering clothing as he watches his quarry escape.
110 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 110
PANNING WITH SEDAN as it roars past Traxler, the gathering minions of the law, the burning building, an arriving fire truck...shoots through a red light and continues to accelerate.
ON TRAXLER as he runs to his car, exhorting the nearby LAPD guys to give suit, while Vukovich grabs the radio.
Go! Go! He's got her.
...Suspect westbound on Olympic. Grey Ford. Has hostage, repeat...
111 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 111
LOW WIDE ANGLE on the empty street, which is narrow and tightly lines with parked cars.
The ROAR of an engine builds.
The LTD, like a night-demon, hurtles out of the shadows with its lights off, doing ninety plus.
112 INT. GREY FORD LTD - NIGHT 112
Sarah is in SHOCK.
Paralyzed. Face bloodless.
RUNNING COMMENTARY - CHAPTER THIRTEEN
113 EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT 113
WIDE ANGLE, CLOSE TO SEDAN, and following it as it hurtles around a corner in an expertly controlled slide.
Then a high speed sprint down the cross-street.
Reese squirrels the vehicle between a slow-moving car ahead and oncoming traffic.
A dive into another dark side street.
114 INT. GRAY FORD LTD - NIGHT 114
Reese drives with total, nerveless absorption.
With occasional glances to Sarah, he speaks to her in a clipped, military voice.
Are you injured? Are you shot?
He reaches over and runs his hands over her arms, legs, chest. Sarah flinches.
She feels the BLIND PANIC BOILING UP WITHIN HER.
She pushes his hand away and opens the door.
Reese slams her back in the seat and slaps her. Hard.
Do exactly what I say.
Exactly. Don't move unless I say. Don't make a sound unless I say. Do you understand?
As he speaks he is locking the door and fastening Sarah's seatbelt over her, cinching it very tightly, like you would for a child. She doesn't answer.
Do you understand?
Yes. Don't hurt me.
I'm here to help you. Reese, Sergeant/Tech-Com, DN38416...
Sarah stares numbly at his outstretched hand. With zero strength she automatically returns his handshake.
Assigned to protect you.
You've been targeted for termination.
115 EXT. SIDE STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 115
The walls of a narrow alley, inky black, frame a police cruiser parked on the street beyond. Firelight from the back of Stoker's lights the street garishly.
A young cop stands beside the car talking via radio with the mike cord pulled through the side window. He speaks with a distinctive twang--a displaced southerner.
...I don't know, it looks like it might spread to this furniture warehouse across the alley, the paint on the wall's starting to blister up. Better get another truck round to this side.
Terminator's silhouette emerges from the blackness and strides purposefully toward the cop, CAMERA following.
The officer whirls and reaches for his gun but Terminator flings him brutally into the side of the car, steps over him and opens the door.
He slides behind the wheel, slips the squad car into gear, and pulls out, accelerating hard.
116 INT. GREY FORD LTD - NIGHT 116
Sarah is slumped way down in the seat, turned away from the window, trying not to see the landscape reeling outside.
This is a mistake. I haven't done anything.
No. But you will. It's very important that you live.
Sarah closes her eyes, as if to shut it all out.
I can't believe this is happening. How could that man get up after you...
Reese's tone is equal parts hatred and respect as he replies.
Not a man. A Terminator. Cyberdyne Systems Model 101.
117 INT. SQUAD CAR - NIGHT 117
Terminator drives expressionlessly, monitoring the babble from Central Dispatch. He hears his number.
...Suspect vehicle sighted on Motor at Pico, southbound. Units One-A-twenty one and One-A-seven, attempt to intercept.
One-L-nineteen, come in.
Terminator picks up the mike. He speaks in a chilling simulation of the young cop's southern twang.
This is One-L-nineteen. Westbound on Olympic, approaching Overland.
118/ 119 OMITTED 118/119
120 INT. GREY FORD LTD - NIGHT 120
A machine? You mean, like what...a robot?
Not a robot. Cyborg.
They have to yell over the roar of air through the broken windshield.
But...he was bleeding.
At that moment a blinding light sears onto them. Reese looks over his left shoulder and sees a CHP cruiser coming alongside, spotlight aimed.
Just a second. Keep your head down.
121 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 121
A second police cruiser falls behind Reese.
He cranks the wheel.
Slams the first black-and-white.
It skids, swapping ends, goes through a newsstand and hits a parked taxi. Out of action.
Reese slides into a alley, the other cruiser right on him.
121A EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 121A
The two cars run the alley like a slalom, scraping the walls and dodging dumpsters.
Reese clears a large construction dumpster, locks up the brakes.
The cop overtakes...
And Reese rides him right onto the lifting forks of a trash truck.
The HISPANIC TRUCK OPERATOR stops the rising forks.
The impaled car is a foot in the air, wheels spinning, as Reese's sedan vanishes.
122/ 123/124/125 OMITTED 122/123/124/ 125
126 INT. GREY LTD - NIGHT 126
Reese is ultra-alert, cruising cautiously.
Alright. Listen. The Terminator's an infiltration unit. Part man, part machine. Underneath, it's a combat chassis, hyperalloy, fully armored. Very tough...
127 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 127
Reese's LTD glides out onto a main drag, very subdued.
He turns the lights on and blends with traffic.
An LAPD cruiser crosses laterally in the distance, lights flashing.
128 INT. GREY LTD - NIGHT 128
But outside, it's living human tissue. Flesh, skin, hair...blood.
Grown for the cyborgs.
Look, Reese, I know you want to help, but...
(cutting her off)
Pay attention. The 600 series had rubber skin. We spotted them easy.
But these are new. They look human. Sweat, bad breath, everything. Very hard to spot. I had to wait 'til he moved on you before I could zero him.
Hey, I'm not stupid, y'know. They can't build anything like that yet.
No. Not yet. Not for about forty years.
Reese is driving sedately for a low profile, but his eyes rove constantly, searching for a place to ditch the car.
Sarah's eyes are alert as well, and her tone becomes a bit too cool.
So, you're saying it's from the future, is that right?
One possible future. From your point I don't know the tech stuff.
And you're from the future too?
They come to a red light and Reese stops.
Like a shot she unlatches the seatbelt, pulls the door lock and has the door half open before Reese can react. He catches her arm and hauls her struggling back into the car.
Sarah sinks her teeth into his hand with all her strength.
His grip doesn't slacken.
Slowly, without releasing her, he reaches across with his other hand and shuts the door. His face shows no reaction.
Sarah draws back and stares at the blood running down his arm from the bite, that at his grim, scarred face. The light turns green and Reese drives on.
Sarah tastes blood and wipes her mouth.
Cyborgs don't feel pain. I do.
He wipes his hand on his pants.
Just let me go.
(slow, but intense)
Listen. Understand. That Terminator is out there. It can't be reasoned with, it can't be bargained with...it doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear...and it absolutely will not stop. Ever.
Until you are dead.
Sarah slumps in utter resignation.
Can you stop it?
Reese doesn't look at her.
Maybe. With these weapons...I don't know.
129 OMITTED 129
130 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER - NIGHT 130
ANGLE THROUGH WINDSHIELD, ON TERMINATOR, as he searches.
Streetlights flare across rhythmically.
131 OMITTED 131
"WHY ME?" - CHAPTER FOURTEEN
131A EXT. STREET - NIGHT 131A
An LAPD cruiser moves slowly along the dark street, searchlight sweeping over the parked cars.
It passes a grey LTD with a shattered windshield. Flicks back.
The car is empty.
132 EXT. USED CAR LOT/NEARBY - NIGHT 132
LOW ANGLE DOLLY, MOVING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they crawl behind a row of parked cars.
He has firm hold of her arm but she seems to be cooperating.
They approach the door of a late-model blue ELDORADO which has been left with its window partway down.
He unlocks it and they slip inside.
133 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER 133
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, through the windshield of the black-and-white.
Suspect vehicle located at Cedar and Glenhaven...
FULL SHOT as Terminator's cruiser slews in a radical turn and roars off in the opposite direction.
134 INT./EXT. ELDORADO/USED CAR LOT - NIGHT 134
Reese uses the butt of the shotgun to smash loose the ignition assembly. He begins working on the wires. A police cruiser appears, moving slowly between the rows of cars.
Reese grabs Sarah and pulls her down to huddle below dash level. A moment later a spotlight flashes across the seats above them.
Reese...why me? Why does it want me?
They are lying very close, a forced intimacy. Reese's voice is an urgent whisper, almost in her ear. A cruiser passes so close they can hear its radio clearly.
There's so much to tell...
Just start at the beginning.
Reese musters his thoughts. And starts:
There was a war. A few years from now. Nuclear war. The whole thing.
His gesture includes the car, the city, the world.
--everything...is gone. Just
gone. There were survivors. Here. There. Nobody knew who started it.
It was the machines.
I don't understand...
Defense network computer. New.
Powerful. Hooked into everything.
Trusted to run it all. They say it got smart...a new order of intelligence. Then it saw all people as a threat, not just the ones on the other side. Decided our fate in a microsecond...
Reese pauses, and when he continues it's less like a military briefing, quieter.
Didn't see the war. I was born after, in the ruins. Grew up there.
Starving. Hiding from the H-K's.
Hunter Killers. Patrol machines. Built in automated factories. Most of us were rounded up, put in camps... for orderly disposal.
He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket and shows her a ten-digit number etched on the skin of his forearm.
Beneath the numbers is a pattern of lines like the automatic-pricing marks on product packages.
Burned in by laser scan.
Some of us were kept alive...to work. Loading bodies. The disposal units ran night and day. We were that close to going out forever...
Reese is holding onto Sarah's shoulders tightly.
...but there was one man...who taught us to fight. To storm the wire of the camps. To smash those metal mother-fuckers into junk. He turned it around...he brought us back from the brink.
His name is Connor. John Connor...
your son, Sarah. Your unborn son.
Sarah stares at him.
135/ 136 OMITTED 135/136
POLICE ARREST - CHAPTER FIFTEEN
137 EXT. USED CAR LOT - NIGHT 137
The Eldorado is F.G. as the nose of Terminator's cruiser appears behind it, moving slowly.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, scanning.
LOW ANGLE, past the back of the Buick, as Terminator cruises by. The tailpipe, F.G., puffs quietly.
Terminator's head snaps around.
His eyes lock on Reese's car.
He reaches for his shotgun.
138A INT./EXT. ELDORADO 138A
Reese's head jerks up, looking in the mirror.
He sees Terminator about to fire. Ducks.
The rear window is blown in, showering them with glass.
He slams the car in gear.
The front tires spin, smoking, as it launches forward.
139/ 140 OMITTED 139/140
141 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 141
Reese and Terminator race along opposite sides of a row of cars, approaching the exit.
The cruiser pulls ahead and closes diagonally as they clear the last car.
Reese sees the other's shotgun leveled.
He ducks, steering blind, keeps it floored.
The windshield and side window EXPLODE INWARD.
The Eldorado slams into the black-and-white, spinning it into a parked truck. TIRES SCREAM as the two cars slew around heading for the exit.
SEVERAL ANGLES, as the police react.
Cruisers race to converge.
142 OMITTED 142
143 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 143
LOW WIDE ANGLE, PRECEDING REESE'S Eldorado as it hits the street, accelerating. Terminator's cruiser slides out behind it, fishtails, races forward.
Engines roar as the cars go flat out. Buildings lining the street become a blur.
Legitimate police, lights blazing, enter the pursuit one by one.
LOW ANGLE, MOVING WITH TERMINATOR'S CAR as Reese dodges across all lanes ahead of it.
They run an intersection at a hundred plus.
144 INT. ELDORADO - NIGHT 144
Reese is feeding his last two shells into the riot gun.
Holding the gun is both hands he leans out the window, still keeping the throttle mashed down.
Sarah grabs the wheel, fighting to control the car.
145 EXT. STREET/ELDORADO - NIGHT 145
MOVING WITH THE BUICK, looking back, as Reese aims the shotgun, buffeted by the windstream.
Terminator's car, B.G., overtakes rapidly.
146 INT. ELDORADO - NIGHT 146
OVER SARAH'S SHOULDER as they approach an intersection...
red light their way and a TRACTOR-TRAILER CAR CARRIER entering crosswise.
147 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 147
Past Terminator, F.G., his shotgun aimed as he comes alongside... at Sarah.
148 INT. ELDORADO-NIGHT 148
Sarah grabs the shift lever. Slams it into reverse.
149 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 149
MOVING WITH BOTH CARS as the Eldorado skids with rear tires locked. Reese and Terminator FIRE simultaneously.
TIGHT ON SARAH as the doorpost next to her shoulder is torn out by the other's blast.
ON TERMINATOR, leaning to see around his shattered windshield.
He hurtles into the intersection, past the skidding Eldorado.
Clips the back of the semi.
Slams into a parked van at 60 MPH. An explosion of metal.
LOW ANGLE as Reese and Sarah slide to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke.
Transmission fluid pours out of the car like blood.
An instant later they are surrounded by an assortment of LAPD, SHERIFF'S DEPT., and CHP CARS.
MEDIUM ON SARAH AND REESE, he raises his hands, through the side window, in plain sight. A phalanx of cops, guns drawn, approaches the car warily.
Sarah looks at Reese. Then at the cops. She opens the door and runs, staggering, toward them. Traxler steps forward and pulls her away to safety.
C.U. - REESE watching her go as a cop eases his door open.
Two cops approach the almost unrecognizable wreckage of the squad car.
They shine their flashlights inside.
It is empty.
The cyborg has VANISHED.
150 OMITTED 150
151 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 151
Sarah, huddles in a blanket, is siting on a bench opposite Traxler's desk. Motionless. Her eyes are fixed on the middle distance. She's been crying. Now she's emptied out.
The door opens.
At the sound of the latch Sarah jerks as if struck, and cringes involuntarily. Traxler enters with Vukovich and DR. PETER SILBERMAN, a criminal psychologist. Silberman is smooth of skin and manner, young, ambitious. He is enthusiastic about the workings of the human psyche, as emotionally involved as someone pulling the wings off a fly.
Traxler sits beside Sarah and hands her a cup of coffee. He puts a paternal arm around her shoulders.
Here, drink some of this...
(voice flat, desperate)
Lieutenant, are you sure it's them?
Maybe I should see the...bodies.
They've already been identified.
There's no doubt.
Sarah begins to cry again, slowly and very quietly.
Oh, God...Ginger...kiddo, I'm so sorry.
Traxler takes the coffee cup from her as her arms sag and it starts to spill.
Sarah, this is Dr. Silberman. I'd like you to tell him everything Reese said to you. Do you feel up to it?
I guess so.
You're a doctor?
A criminal psychologist.
Is Reese crazy?
That's what we're going to find out.
INTERROGATION - CHAPTER SIXTEEN
152 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 152
The room costs five dollars a night and that's steep, but the FIRE ESCAPE outside the window adds an element of strategic value.
A silhouette slips in through the window and clicks on the single BARE LIGHT BULB.
It's Terminator, and he's a mess.
A bloody scarecrow with bullet wounds in stomach, chest, shoulder and right wrist.
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR
as he sits at a ratty folding table under the light.
His eyebrows are singed off.
Left eyes glistening with imbedded glass shards.
Before him on the table is an array of SMALL TOOLS.
He removes the charred remains of his jacket and props one elbow on the table.
ANGLE PAST HIS NON-FUNCTIONAL RIGHT ARM, F.G.,
as he examines it. He picks up an EXACTO-TYPE KNIFE and cuts deeply into the skin of his forearm.
His expression is one of mild concentration.
E.C.U. - FOREARM
as he pulls back a large flap of skin to reveal a complex trunk of SHEATHED CABLES AND HYDRAULICS.
They slide as he moves his fingers.
as Terminator uses a rag to wipe away the blood. With small screwdrivers he begins to patiently disassemble the damaged mechanism around the 12-gauge hit.
153 INT. DIVISION HQ/INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 153
The room is small, furnished with only a table and two chairs. Reese, his arms handcuffed behind him, sits opposite Dr. Silberman. Behind Silberman is a large mirror.
A DETECTIVE leans against the wall.
So. You're a soldier. Fighting for whom?
With the One Thirty Second under Perry, from '21 to '27--
The year 2027?
154 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM 154
Traxler and Vukovich are seated in the dark room, watching Reese, B.G., through the two-way mirror. Just behind the glass is a VIDEO CAMERA ON A TRIPOD, aimed at Reese, and a CART holding a SMALL MONITOR and VIDEOCASSETTE RECORDER.
(quietly, to Traxler)
This is fucking great.
155 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 155
Then I was assigned Recon/Security, last two years, under John Connor.
And who was the enemy?
SKYNET. A computer defense system built for SAC-NORAD by Cyberdyne Systems. A modified Series 4800.
I see. And this... computer, thinks it can win by killing the mother of its enemy, killing him, in effect, before he is even conceived? A sort of retroactive abortion?
156 INT, OBSERVATION BOOTH - NIGHT 156
Vukovich snorts and grins.
That Silberman just cracks me up,
He had this guy in here last week who set his Afghan on fire. Screwed it first, then set it on--
157 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 157
...it had no choice. The defensive grid was smashed. We'd taken the mainframes... We'd won. Taking out Connor then would make no difference. Skynet had to wipe out his entire existence. We captured the lab complex. Found the...whatever it was called...the time-displacement equipment. The Terminator had already gone through. They sent two of us to intercept, then zeroed the whole place. Sumner didn't make it.
Then how are you supposed to get back?
Can't. Nobody goes home. Nobody else comes through. It's just him and me.
158 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 158
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR
in profile, showing his lacerated eye.
He is close to a mirror, practically touching it, staring intently.
MACRO - EXACTO TYPE KNIFE
lying on the dresser. Terminator's fingers lift it.
CAMERA TILTS TO FOLLOW as it rises to his face, holds TIGHT ON left eye.
With a smooth motion the knife point enters the eyeball and cuts away the ruined sclera and cornea, as well as part of the damaged eyelids.
He wipes with a rag to clear the electronic eye's vision.
Revealing the faintly glowing lens mechanism, suspended in a chrome socket by tiny servos.
The eye whirs quietly as it tracks.
We see Terminator's right arm is sutured crudely where it was repaired.
He puts on a pair of gloves.
A fresh shirt to hide his body wounds.
This is followed by a new overcoat.
C.U. - TERMINATOR
contemplating his reflection in the mirror.
Favoring his right profile he looks unhurt...though a bit gaunt and pale.
A turn of his head brings the balefully glowing left eye in its metal socket into view.
He slips on a pair of tight, wrap-around sunglasses.
as he goes to the bed and flips up the stained mattress. He picks up the Remington 12 gauge, the AR-180 and the .38 off the springs and leaves by the fire escape.
PARANOID DELUSION? - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
159 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 159
TIGHT ON VIDEO MONITOR showing Reese in the Interrogation Room.
...It's just him and me.
revealing Sarah, Silberman, Traxler and Vukovich watching a monitor sitting amid incredible paperwork clutter on a desk top.
Why didn't you bring any weapons?
Something more advanced. Don't you have ray guns?
Vukovich, standing in the back, grins and nudges Silberman, who nods appreciatively.
TIGHT ON REESE'S RECORDED IMAGE
glares at Silberman.
as Silberman's voice is heard.
Show me a piece of future technology.
(recorded/controlling his hostility)
You go naked. Something about the field generated by a living organism. Nothing dead will go.
I didn't build the fucking thing.
Okay. Okay. But this...
(consults his notes)
cyborg...if it's metal --
Surrounded by living tissue.
The real Silberman put the tape on "PAUSE".
This is great stuff. I could make a career out of this guy. You see how clever this part is...how it doesn't require a shred of proof. Most paranoid delusions are intricate...but this is brilliant.
He starts the tape again.
Why were the other two women killed?
Most records were lost in the war. Skynet knew almost nothing about Connor's mother. Her name. Where she lived, just the city. No scanner pictures. The Terminator was just being systematic.
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN
as he goes on.
You've heard enough. Decide. Are you going to release me?
I'm afraid that's not up to me.
Then why am I talking to you? Get out!
ON SARAH, DOLLYING SLOWLY IN TO C.U.
as we hear Reese begin to shout.
I can help you--
Who is in authority here?
C.U. REESE, ON SCREEN
as he looks straight at the camera.
You still don't get it. He'll find her. That's what he does. All he does...
MEDIUM ON TRAXLER
gesturing to Silberman, who is near the machine, to kill it.
You can't stop him. He'll wade through you...
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN
rising partway out of his chair, yelling:
...reach down her throat, and pull her fucking heart out...
The screen goes black.
Traxler has cut off the tape.
C.U. - SARAH
staring at the empty screen.
So Reese is crazy.
In technical terminology, he's a loon.
Traxler hands her something that looks like umpire's padding.
Sarah, this is body armor. Our TAC guys wear it. It'll stop a 12 gauge round. This other individual must've had one under his coat.
Sarah wants to believe him. God help her if he's wrong.
But what about him punching through the windshield?
Probably on PCP, broke every bone in his hand and won't feel it for hours. There was this guy once that...
Traxler cuts him off with a gesture and sits beside Sarah on the bench.
Why don't you just stretch out here and get some sleep. It'll take your mom a good hour to get here from Redlands.
I can't sleep.
Go ahead. You're safe. There're thirty cops in this building.
She lays her head on a wadded-up blanket as everyone leaves the office.
"I'LL BE BACK!" - CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
160 INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT FOYER - NIGHT 160
Silberman can be seen through a glass partition next to the bullet-proof glass booth enclosing the NIGHT DESK SERGEANT'S counter. The Sergeant hits a button and there is a loud BULL-CLACK. The electric bolt on the security door opens and Silberman steps out.
As he exits the station, he passes Terminator just coming in the front door. He glances at the pale apparition in cap and dark wrap-arounds, but goes on.
Terminator approaches the Desk Sergeant who barely glances up when he speaks.
I'm a friend of Sarah Connor. I was told she is here. Can I see her, please?
You can't see here. She's making a statement.
Where is she?
Look. It's gonna be a while. You wanna wait. There's a bench.
Terminator steps back, scanning the booth, the electric door, the rooms beyond.
I'll come back.
He turns and walks out through the front doors.
ANGLE PAST DESK SERGEANT, F.G. - ON FRONT DOORS
The officer is absorbed in paperwork, not watching as a pair of lights get BRIGHTER outside the doors. RAPIDLY.
He glances up at the last second as the glare falls fully on him. CRASH! Several cops and late night loiterers scatter as a car smashes into the foyer. It blasts through the sergeant's booth, crushing him in the wreckage.
161 INT. DIVISION HQ/TRAXLER'S OFFICE 161
Sarah, lying on the couch, jerks awake as the crash REVERBERATES through the building. She sits up, bleary-eyed.
162 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 162
Through the hole in the splintered wall we see Terminator leap out of the car.
He vaults the hood and smashes through the debris of the wall.
Leaps to the corridor floor in a shower of plaster fragments.
He brandishes the AR-180 like a pistol in one hand, the shotgun in the other.
LOW ANGLE DOLLY
preceding him as he starts down the corridor.
ANGLE ON LOUNGE DOORWAY
as TWO COPS run into the hall, one carrying a cup of coffee.
Terminator fires a burst from the assault rifle.
ANGLE ON COPS
They are flung backward in a spray of coffee and plaster.
163 INT. DIVISION HQ/TRAXLER'S OFFICE 163
Sarah is alert now with growing alarm. The sound of GUNFIRE is faint...but unmistakable. Her expression shows the dawning certainty of what is happening.
164 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 164
Terminator steps over the bodies of the two cops without breaking stride.
OVER HIS SHOULDER, MOVING WITH HIM as he walks down the hall. Comes to a door. Tries it. Locked.
Kicks it in.
A DESK COP, drawing his gun, sprints for cover.
ANGLE ON TERMINATOR
raising the AR-180.
165/ INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 165/FX
In computer-enhanced vision we see the cop dash around a corner in SLOW MOTION. As he disappears behind the wall an ANIMATED OUTLINE OF HIM is still visible...a PROBABILISTIC EXTRAPOLATION OF HIS MOTION. There is a target cross-hair following the figure.
166 INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - BEHIND WALL - NIGHT 166
The wall erupts with a volley of shots beside the running cop and he is flung OUT OF FRAME.
167 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE 167
Shots are echoing in the hallway as Traxler whips open the door, startling the hell out of Sarah.
He turns the locking knob and slams the door.
Leaving her alone.
She flinches as more SHOTS SOUND. CLOSER.
167A INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 167A
Terminator rips the cover off the station's main electrical panel. He pulls loose the hose-like 440-volt incoming line and feeds it directly into the lighting circuit.
All down the corridor the overhead fluorescent units explode, showering sparks and glass.
167B INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 167B
Sarah's terror skyrockets when the ceiling lamp explodes and the office goes black.
168 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 168
Through the smoke and emergency spotlights Terminator moves
A door behind him opens. A COP fires, hitting him in the shoulder. Terminator fires straight-arm with the 12-gauge, without slowing, killing the cop, then fires down the corridor with the assault rifle.
ESCAPE - CHAPTER NINETEEN
169 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 169
Vukovich leaves the other detective to guard Reese, who is still handcuffed to the chair.
The door closes.
An instant later a chair smashes over the detective's back, just as he is turning toward his prisoner.
Reese is on him, scrabbling for the keys.
170 INT. CROSS CORRIDOR - NIGHT 170
Vukovich is running down the hall through smoke and the wild strobing of electrical fires as Traxler steps out of an armory room. He tosses Vukovich an M-16 and they run on.
171 INT. MAIN CORRIDOR - NIGHT 171
Terminator stops before another door. He BLASTS the lock
with the shotgun. Flings open the door, scanning.
He is hit twice, chest and leg.
Firelight flickers from an office doorway as he passes.
172 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 172
Sarah scrabbles for a place to hide in the darkened room but it's so tiny. Behind the desk. She crouches unable to believe she has awakened into the same nightmare.
173 INT. OFFICE NEARBY - NIGHT 173
ANGLE ON DOOR as it splinters open and Terminator stands, guns raised. A COP fires from behind a desk.
Terminator sprays the room.
Starts to reload.
174 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 174
Traxler edges open a door and fires half a clip into Terminator's back. His eyes bulge as the intruder turns, slamming a clip into his rifle and calmly fires two rounds.
Vukovich drags Traxler's body back inside the room.
175 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 175
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, moving forward, intent
176 INT. TRAXLER'S OFFICE - NIGHT 176
MEDIUM ON SARAH, her teeth are chattering with fear as SHOTS echo nearby. Getting closer.
The doorknob RATTLES as it is tried from outside.
She flinches as if slapped as shots shatter the lock.
The door bangs open and a figure stands silhouetted in the smoky hallway, holding a pistol.
She scrabbles out from beneath the desk and runs to him in the thickening smoke.
177 INT. CONNECTING OFFICES - NIGHT 177
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH as they cross the corridor and move through a series of offices, doubling back toward the main entrance.
178 INT. OFFICE - NIGHT 178
Sarah and Reese move rapidly through the smoke.
Gunfire sounds nearby. They pass bodies.
They find the Lieutenant propped in a corner, dying.
Reese bends toward him.
Traxler holds out his custom .38 Special.
You just keep her alive. Do what you have to.
Reese snatches the gun and runs out.
C.U. - TRAXLER
watching them go.
179 INT./EXT. OFFICES/SIDE ENTRANCE - NIGHT 179
FAST PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he runs through the smoky rooms. A fire is burning, lighting everything a flickering orange.
He emerges onto a landing through a side entrance. PAN to follow his line of sight as he snaps the AR-180 to his shoulder. B.G. a BROWN DATSUN tears away across the parking lot.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR
aiming carefully. He pulls the trigger.
It clicks... empty. Slowly he lowers the scope-sight from his eye and watches them go.
Terminator limps down the steps from the landing and walks away as the fire spreads behind the windows of Division Headquarters.
JOHN CONNOR - CHAPTER TWENTY
180 INT. DATSUN - NIGHT 180
DETAIL - GAS GAUGE, it reads EMPTY.
181 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 181
The Datsun is stopped on the shoulder of a two lane secondary road winding through the mountains north of L.A.
Reese is fishing objects out of the car's trunk and handing them to Sarah, who holds a flashlight.
He hands her a blanket, some road flares, and a first aid kit. Then he slams the trunk. Reaching through the side window, he turns the wheel and pushes the car off the shoulder, over the embankment.
DOWN ANGLE INTO RAVINE
past Sarah and Reese, as the car trundles down, crashing through the underbrush to disappear among the trees.
Let's get off the road.
182 INT./EXT. DRAINAGE CULVERT - NIGHT 182
ANGLE LOOKING OUT from the mouth of an enclosed concrete storm drain that passes under the road. Reese, followed by Sarah, trudges down the slope and ducks inside.
The floor is wet but he doesn't seem to mind.
They both hunker down with their backs to the concrete, facing each other.
They look beaten, grimy, exhausted.
She huddles under the blanket, waif-like.
She sits beside him and they wrap their arms around each other with the blanket covering both of them.
Reese...you got a first name?
Kyle, what's it like when you go through time?
White light. Pain. Like being ripped inside out...slowly. Like being born, maybe.
Sarah scowls and draws her hand out from under his jacket.
You're wet. Oh my god.
In the beam of the flashlight her hand is glistening with blood.
I caught one, back there.
Caught one? You mean you got shot?
It's not bad.
Sarah sits up and turns toward him.
We gotta get you to a doctor.
It's okay. Forget it.
Forget it? Are you crazy?
Let me see it.
Sarah opens his jacket and the flashlight beam shows his
shirt bloodsoaked at the shoulder.
Jeez. Take this off.
MOTHER OF THE FUTURE - CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
She cradles the flashlight between her knees and opens the first aid kit as he removes his jacket.
(looking at the wound)
See. Missed everything. Passed through the meat.
Sarah starts swabbing the flesh wound.
This is gonna make me puke. Talk about something.
Just talk. Tell me about my son.
Is he tall?
She places a gauze pad in place and starts to wrap it.
About my height. He has your--
...damn...he has your eyes.
Sarah glances at his face for a second and then goes back to work.
What's he like?
You trust him. He's got that strength. You'd die in a second for John.
Well, at least I know what to name him. I don't suppose you'd know who the father is? So I don't tell him to get lost when I meet him.
John never said much about him.
He dies. Even before the war...
Stop! I don't want to know. Hold still. So...it was John that ordered you here?
It was an honor. A chance to meet the legend. Sarah Connor. Who taught her son to fight...organize, prepare. From when he was a kid. When you were in hiding, before the war.
She stops taping. She seems lost, her bravado dissipated.
You talk about things I haven't done yet in the past tense. It's making me crazy. I can't think.
Are you sure you've got the right person?
Reese appraises her coldly.
Come on, me? The mother the future? Am I tough? Organized? I can't even balance my checkbook. I cry when I see a cat that's been run over...and I don't even like cats.
She pulls the bandage tight with a knot.
Ow! No, it's okay. It's better tight.
And anyway, what do I know about guerrilla warfare?
Look, Reese, I didn't ask for this honor and I don't want it. Any of it.
John gave me a message for you. Made me memorize it. 'Sarah'... this is the message...'Sarah, thank you. For your courage through the dark years. I can't help you with what you must soon face, except to tell you that the future is not set... there is no such thing as Fate, but what we make for ourselves by our own will. You must be stronger than you imagine you can be. You must survive, or I will never exist.' That's all.
Sarah stares at him as the enormity of it all becomes real to her. Reese moves his arm, testing the bandage.
You like it? It's my first.
He rebuttons his shirt and they return to the warmth-conserving embrace. Sarah gazes out the entrance, into the night.
Sleep. It'll be light soon.
(closing her eyes)
Okay. HOW TO SURVIVE - CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Talk some more.
About where you're from.
You stay down by day, but at night you can move around. The H-K's use infra-red so you still have to watch out. But they're not too bright. John taught us ways to dust them. That's when the infiltrators started to appear. The Terminators were the newest, and the worst...
During his monologue we have PANNED into the darkness outside, leaving a BLACK FRAME. A ROTOR ROAR fades up.
CUT IN BLACK TO:
183/ EXT. CITY RUINS, 2029 - NIGHT 183/FX
Black sky. Stars.
With a roar an AERIAL PATROL CRAFT enters close overhead.
It has flashing red and blue lights and powerful searchlights which stab down.
to a vista of moonlit devastation.
White ash blows in drifts among fire-gutted ruins.
Another aerial unit hovers several blocks away, firing tracers into the ruins.
184/ EXT. RUINS/POV THROUGH SCOPE - NIGHT 184/FX
An electronically enhanced image of the aerial H-K as it patrols the ruins.
184A/ EXT. RUINS - NIGHT 184A/FX
MED. ON REESE as he scans the ruined city with a starlight scope mounted on his energy rifle.
as Reese and several squad members enter a concealed man-hole and descend out of sight.
185 INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT 185
Reese's squad climbs down a debris-choked stairwell.
They pass a sentry post.
Move down through several levels.
Reach a welded barrier.
Two sentries with GERMAN SHEPHERDS on short leashes pass them through.
186 INT. PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT 186
The platoon enters a cavernous chamber, an old parking structure, in which a large group lives.
FOLLOWING REESE as he patrols the perimeter.
He walks along a row of rusted CARS.
He passes several family groups.
Gaunt kids are huddled around an old TV SET.
reveals that the set has been gutted and a small cookfire crackles inside the shell.
Nearby a kid has a LARGE RAT cornered and is whacking it with a stick.
Reese pauses at the end of the row of vehicles and unsnaps a pocket in his tunic, removing a small paper rectangle, a photograph.
C.U. - REESE
gazing down. His head snaps around at the sudden sound of BARKING.
ANGLE ON SENTRY POST
as the dogs go crazy.
An innocuous, RAG-DRESSED MAN flips back his poncho to reveal a powerful PLASMA-RIFLE. He opens FIRE, running forward. ENERGY BOLTS rip into the crowd.
MOVING WITH REESE, running toward the Terminator.
POWERBOLTS EXPLODE among the fleeing people.
Beams sear the darkness.
ANGLE ON REESE
running. He levels his energy-rifle and starts firing. A powerbolt grazes his cheek, EXPLODING a support column behind him. Part of the ROOF COLLAPSES as Reese tumbles.
Everything is lit as if by lightning.
C.U. - REESE
semi-conscious. Burned. Bleeding.
Impressions implode on him: running feet, flashes, energy beams, screaming.
Reese looks up.
A figure looms above, a silhouette in the smoky, hellish glare. THE TERMINATOR. Its eyes glow red.
A brilliant EXPLOSION WHITES OUT THE SCREEN.
The picture Reese has been looking at has fallen, forgotten.
It catches fire and starts to curl. Before the image vanishes we see that it is a picture of Sarah.
MOMENTARY SAFETY - CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
187 INT./EXT. CULVERT - DAWN 187
C.U. - SARAH, brightly lit by daylight. Asleep. She grimaces and groans.
In the distance a dog is barking.
Reese, still holding her, lightly lifts her hair from her face. An uncharacteristically tender gesture. He gently caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
When she awakens suddenly he snaps his hand away.
Sarah looks around, momentarily disoriented. Looks up at Reese.
I was dreaming about dogs.
Reese extricates himself from her and stands up.
We used them to spot Terminators.
Sarah groans as she straightens her legs.
Your world...it's pretty terrifying.
Reese doesn't respond directly.
Let's get moving.
They emerge into a beautiful landscape of mountain forest, wreathed in early-morning mist.
188 EXT. REST STOP - MORNING 188
A small service building at a deserted mountain turnout.
The highway is visible nearby.
Reese is attempting to hotwire an old pickup parked near the woods.
Sarah, F.G., is on a pay phone, out of Reese's line of sight around the corner of the building.
...I know, Mom. This is the soonest I could...I know...Mom, Mom, I can't talk long. No, I'm okay.
I'm okay, really. I'm not supposed to be calling anyone so just listen...I want you to pack some stuff and go up to the cabin for a few days. Just don't...no, don't ask any questions. Just do it. I gotta get going...gotta go. Bye, bye.
Sarah has been idly leafing through the DIRECTORY. On a whim she looks up something.
She freezes for a moment when she finds the listing.
Then with a triumphant expression she rips the page out of the book.
as Sarah runs up to him.
The truck is not starting, and its battery gives up with a dying groan.
She shows him the directory page, looking smug.
Look. I found it.
That's where we're going.
MACRO ON PAGE
Sarah's finger points to a listing which reads:
CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS, INC.
18144 El Camino Real, S'Vale
ANGLE ON SARAH AND REESE
Isn't that it? Cyberdyne Systems?
What about it?
Didn't you say that they're going to develop this revolutionary new thing...
Whatever...they become the hotshot computer guys so they get the job build that Skynet thing, for the government. Right?
That's the way it was told to me.
Sarah's fear has been replaced by excitement.
Well, we're gonna uninvent the bastard. Eighty-six it. We'll blow up the place...burn it down. Something.
Tactically dangerous. We lay low.
Reese. Think it through. We can prevent the war. Nobody else is gonna do it. If we go to anybody official we wind up back in jail and then he's got us again. We have to do it ourselves.
That's not my mission.
(upset, mocking his manner)
Listen. Understand. I'm not a military objective, Reese. I'm a person...You don't own me.
Reese takes her arm and pulls her to her feet.
Let's go. Time to move out.
Fuck you! Let go of me!
She jerks her arm free. He reaches for her again but she outdistances him, running.
She dashes down a footpath among the trees, clutching her piece of paper. Reese follows her into the woods.
189/ 190/191/192 OMITTED 189/190/191/ 192
193 EXT. WOODS/CLEARING - DAY 193
Only a few yards from the rest stop, the woods take over completely.
PANNING WITH SARAH
as she runs down the path, Reese tackles her from behind and they fall together in the long spring grass.
She struggles violently to get away.
Let... go... bastard...
She get one arm free and whacks him hard in the face.
Reese reacts instinctively, leaping back in a defensive crouch. Sarah freezes when she sees the .357 in his hand.
(continuing; scared, but angry)
Oh, that's real smart. Go on, shoot me. That's brilliant.
Reese is trembling as he lowers the gun.
Sarah too is shaking with emotion. Tears roll down her cheeks and her voice cracks.
Jesus Christ, Reese. Can't you see I'm scared?
He straightens up and his arms go limp at his sides.
He turns away.
I can't spend my life waiting for that thing to catch up with me... always looking over my shoulder, wondering if I left some tiny clue behind...
Reese doesn't respond.
The gun slips from his fingers.
His will seems to drain from him and he sags to his knees.
The moment stretches.
There is only the sunlight moving in shafts through the leaves, the sound of a small stream nearby, birds chirping.
She crawls over to him.
C.U. - REESE
in profile, with Sarah B.G.
His eyes are closed.
A tear meanders down his cheek.
I'm wrong here. I wasn't meant see this...
He gestures at their surroundings.
It's...like some dream. This... this...
He touches the grass, the trunk of a tree.
...and you...all so...beautiful. It hurts, Sarah. More than death.
He looks at her beseechingly.
Don't you understand...it's all gone!
Sarah puts her arms around him.
She sniffs and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.
We can change it , Kyle. We have to at least try.
She takes his shoulders in her hands.
There's no fate but what we make for ourselves. Right? Come on. Let's go, kiddo. Whaddya say?
He picks up the scrap of paper and they look at each other for a second, then get up.
194 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 194
Terminator sits in his room with the blinds drawn tight.
Murky. Claustrophobic. With knife slits of hot sunlight.
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR
sitting on the edge of the bed.
His appearance isn't improving.
He is scanning Sarah's address book, turning a page every two seconds.
C.U. - TERMINATOR
his eyes tracking rapidly. His skin is waxy, WHITE, BRUISED, GANGRENOUS in places. He ignores the FEW FLIES crawling on his face.
194A/ POV - TERMINATOR - DAY 194A/FX
Showing Sarah's book.
In microseconds the handwritten entries are translated into CRT-type characters and displayed to one side of the screen.
This updates instantly as the page is turned.
195 INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR 195
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN with a torn T-shirt covering his paunch knocks on the door. He is wheeling a trash cart.
Hey, buddy, you got a dead cat in there or what?
196 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 196
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, as he looks up.
197/ POV - TERMINATOR - DAY 197/FX
The digitized image PANS to the door and a LOGIC-FLOW DIAGRAM appears overlaid in color-coded words. It concludes with a list of potential appropriate responses:
PLEASE COME BACK LATER
FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE
The last begins to FLASH, and enlarges to fill the screen.
198 RESUME ANGLE 198
Funk you, asshole.
He returns to his scan.
199 INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY 199
The man shrugs and walks on down the hall.
200 EXT. MOTEL - DUSK 200
The two fugitives walk toward an economy motel of the two-story park-by-the-door variety.
Sarah turns to wave as a TRACTOR-TRAILER pulls away noisily heading back to the Interstate. The driver answers her wave out the wide window. Reese stops for a moment outside the motel office to pet a GERMAN SHEPHERD sitting on the porch. The dog wags its tail and licks his hand.
Reese opens the door and they go in.
201 INT. MOTEL OFFICE - DAY 201
Reese pulls a crumpled wad of bills from his jeans and shows it to Sarah.
Is this enough?
Yes. And I don't want to know where you got it.
She turns to the desk clerk, a female version of the pawnshop lizard.
We need a room...with a kitchen.
202 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DUSK 202
Kyle and Sarah enter the spartan room.
I'm dying for a shower. You could use one too. And we'd better check that bandage.
Later. I'm going out for material.
He hands her the .38 he took from TRAXLER.
She takes it without thinking as he leaves then realizes that she has A LOADED GUN IN HER HAND, without the slightest idea of how to use it.
She lays it gently on the dresser.
As an afterthought, she turns it with one finger so that it is pointing the other way.
Sarah moves the curtain slightly and looks outside.
NO ONE SPECIAL - CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
203 EXT. MOTEL - DUSK 203
Reese walks away toward a commercial area visible down the road.
204 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 204
Sarah is on the phone, her hair still wet from a shower.
She sits on the bed with a towel wrapped around her.
...No, Mom, I can't tell you where I am. I was told not to say.
SARAH'S MOM (V.O./filtered)
But honey, I need to know where I can reach you or I'll be worried sick. It turns out I can't stay up here...the electricity's off... and I don't know just where I'll be.
Sarah hesitates, then:
Okay, here's the number. Are you ready?
SARAH'S MOM (V.O./filtered)
205 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 205
SLOW PAN around the room as the conversation between Sarah and her Mom continues, completely VOICE OVER.
It's 408-555-1439. Room 14.
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
I've got it.
The PAN continues, revealing an overturned chair.
Okay, I've gotta go. I'm sorry I can't tell you very much now, Mom.
I love you.
The PAN comes to a table. Smashed plates. Spilled coffee.
A spatter of blood. A phone. It follows the phone cord onto Terminator in CLOSE-UP as he continues in a perfect simulation of her mother's voice...
TERMINATOR (Mother's voice)
I love you too, sweetheart.
206 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 206
Sarah hangs up the phone, vaguely disturbed.
207 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 207
Terminator rapidly dials the number Sarah gave.
TERMINATOR (his voice)
Tell me your address there.
208 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 208
TIGHT ON SEVERAL GROCERY BAGS
covering the counter beside the hot-plate in the tiny kitchen.
Reese's hands split one open and its contents spill out.
Sarah looks through Reese's haul.
Let's see. Corn syrup. Ammonia.
Moth balls...Mmm. What's for dinner?
There are also boxes of shotgun shells, road flares, tape, scissors, pans, a strainer and many other odd utensils, substances, chemicals.
Nitroglycerin, basically. Bit more stable. I learned how to make it when I was a kid.
Sarah looks a bit stricken as she contemplates the evening ahead.
209 EXT. HIGHWAY/CHEVY CAMARO - NIGHT 209
The dashlight illuminates Terminator from beneath as he drives through the night. He looks like Death. His left eye glows a faint red in the darkness.
210 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 210
A heartwarming domestic scene.
Sarah and Kyle have pulled the dresser out to use as a work-table. Pans, packages and bottles clutter the kitchen, B.G. On the table between them are eight ten-inch lengths of PLUMBER'S PIPE, threaded each end. Kyle is showing Sarah how to tamp the HIGH-EXPLOSIVE PUTTY into the pipe bombs and seal them shut.
Make sure there's none on the threads, like this. Now screw the end-cap on... very gently.
You must have had a fun childhood.
That's good. Now, seven more like that while I make fuses.
I was thinking, there's so much I've got to show you when we get through this. It's mind boggling, the possibilities... Disneyland, the beach, movies...matinees with popcorn and foot-long hot dogs...
All the things you've never seen and done. You're here, but where-ever you go, and whatever you touch, you bring the war with you.
My whole life has been combat.
I want it to be over for you.
I want it to be over for me too. I feel like I slipped over some invisible line, that I'm in your world now. Everything's the same, but I see it differently. It's like, there's you and me, and him... but nobody else can understand or help or even touch us.
Reese looks up and finally catches her gaze. He reaches out for her hand and it seems he may be taking it to comfort her.
But he turns her wrist to read her watch.
We'll head out at 0200. That gives you four hours to sleep if you want. I'll finish.
REESE'S REASONS - CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
211 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 211
ANGLE ON TABLE
The bombs are neatly ranked, finished. A nylon satchel lies nearby. The mess is cleaned up.
reveals Reese sitting in silent vigil at the window. The room is dark, lit only by a streetlight outside.
Sarah is asleep on the bed.
Reese sits cross-legged, shirtless, his body held rigid.
The image of discipline. The .38 is held loosely in one hand on his lap. There is a fresh bandage on his shoulder.
Sarah wakes up and goes to him in the darkness. He looks at her for a moment as she sits beside him, then back outside.
He'll find us, won't he?
Probably. Sarah, if I get zeroed--
Don't say that.
If I do, you have to get away, disappear without a trace. Different country, different name, everything. In case they send another one.
It'll never be over, will it?
Reese doesn't respond.
Look at me. I'm shaking. Some legend, huh? You must be pretty disappointed.
No. I'm not.
Several beats before Sarah speaks again. Her eyes seem luminous in the dark.
Kyle, the women in your time... what were they like?
That's not what I meant. Was there someone special?
A girl. You know.
He looks away, outside the window
Sarah studies him for a moment.
She's sitting slightly behind him and she puts her hands on his shoulders and back, tracing the lines of his scars with her fingertips.
So much pain.
Pain can be controlled. You disconnect it.
And so you feel nothing.
It's better that way.
(with great sympathy)
Reese takes a long, slow breath before he answers, and when he does his voice has a new quality, an unfamiliar tenderness.
John Connor gave me a picture of you once. I never knew why. It was very old. Torn. Faded. You were young, like you are now. You weren't smiling...just a little sad...I always wondered what you were thinking at that second.
He closes his eyes, reaches toward her. His fingertips trace the contour of her nose, chin, cheeks.
I memorized every line, every curve...
He opens his eyes, looking right at hers.
Sarah, I came across time for you. I love you. I always have.
Sarah is quietly overwhelmed.
Reese looks away.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said...
She leans forward and kisses him.
His face is frozen. A mask.
She continues, tenderly.
He begins to respond.
The dam breaks and he holds her in a tight, trembling embrace, clinging to her like life itself.
Kyle picks her up and carries her to the bed.
She kisses his neck and chest, tracing his scars with her lips.
He unbuttons her blouse very slowly.
Sarah guides his powerful hands over her.
A SEQUENCE OF CUTS. DETAILS. IMPRESSIONS.
Sarah, a VERY CLOSE ANGLE, as she grimaces in divine agony.
Reese, his face rapt.
His hand, clutching the pillow as if to kill it.
It is explosive, torrential. A confluence of fate and will.
212 INT. MOTEL ROOM/LATER - NIGHT 212
TIGHT ON SARAH AND REESE in each other's arms. Lying across his chest, she surveys his face as his eyes close drowsily.
She begins running her fingertips along the sides of his chest, under his arms.
Reese looks down, puzzled.
What are you doing?
It's called tickling. You'll beg for mercy in a second.
Reese seems unperturbed. Finally he begins to squirm.
I don't think I like this.
You're not supposed to.
Now Reese is becoming desperate. A grimace spreads across his face. It becomes a grin. Then he's laughing, trying to escape but she won't let him, and they collapse, laughing together.
Sarah gazes at his grin, a glimpse of the Reese that might have been, in another life.
Their grins fade.
They gaze at each other, stretching a moment that can't last.
It's Sarah that pulls away.
Come on. Let's get moving.
ANGLE ON REESE
shirtless, tying his shoes. Sarah is nearby, pulling on her top.
Reese freezes at the sound of DOGS BRAKING.
Reese is off the bed in an instant, crouched tense, eyes alert. Feral as ever.
Listen to the dogs.
213 OMITTED 213
RUN OVER BY A TRUCK - CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
214/ INT./EXT. MOTEL/TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 214/FX
In cyborg-vision we see the German Shepherd, barking furiously, lunging repeatedly TOWARD CAMERA on its chain.
PAN OFF, approaching the doors to the rooms.
The nearest vehicle parked in front is a LARGE PICKUP TRUCK WITH A DIRT BIKE lashed in the bed, seen prominently as we pass.
The POV approaches a door. Number 14.
The door is KICKED OPEN.
The assault rifle sprays the room, exploding the indistinct forms on the bed. Staccato glare. Approaching the bed.
Nothing there but the shredded remains of sheets and pillows.
The POV shifts to the BACK DOOR, which is ajar, and moves toward it. Through the door. Revealing an EMPTY YARD.
215 INT. PICKUP TRUCK/PARKING LOT - NIGHT 215
Reese is under the dash, playing with the wires.
Sarah lies on the seat, clutching the nylon satchel, which bulges with the explosive charges.
Reese twists the wires and the engine starts to turn over.
216 INT./EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 216
Terminator spins at the sound of the truck engine catching.
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH HIM as he runs the length of the suite, through the front door.
He raises the assault rifle.
Reese's pickup launches toward him.
Slams him back against the wall as it screeches in an arc across the sidewalk, destroying a soft-drink machine. The pickup roars across the parking lot.
Terminator rolls to his feet.
Picks up the fallen assault rifle.
Runs with powerful strides to his motorcycle.
He leaps on, starting it in one motion and shoots across the parking lot with the front wheel barely on the ground.
217 OMITTED 217
218 OMITTED 218
219/ OMITTED 219/FX
220 INT./EXT. FREEWAY/PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 220
Reese slides the truck onto the highway and guns it, burying the throttle. Traffic is light...a few 18-wheelers. The truck tops out at 110 and he holds it.
Behind them a single headlight grows BRIGHTER, CLOSING.
221 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 221
LOW WIDE ANGLE preceding Terminator on the bike. He is tucked, getting as much speed as possible out of the 750.
As he GAINS ON THE CAMERA, FILLING FRAME, he unslings the assault rifle. Raises it against the windstream in a one-handed pistol grip.
222 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 222
Reese motions Sarah to keep her head down.
Instead she slips open the satchel and hands him a pipe charge.
She pushes in the cigarette lighter on the dash.
Reese glances in the mirror.
223 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 223
Terminator closes on the pickup.
They weave together like a slalom between 18-wheelers and other vehicles.
Bullets rake the pickup's tailgate, shatter the rear window.
224 INT./EXT. PICKUP - NIGHT 224
Sarah is buffeted as Reese fights to control the skidding truck.
Switch places with me.
She slides over him while he keeps the hammer down.
225 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 225
Reese is out the window to the waist...watching the fuse burn low on the charge in his hand. He hurls it.
It bounces in front of Terminator's bike and EXPLODES.
The bike skids through the smoke.
Reese lights and throws a second bomb.
Terminator swerves, comes out of it with a shattered fairing. A broken headlight.
A third explosion.
A car near Terminator's bike spins out of control.
Bullets rake the pickup.
The windows are blown out.
The side mirror explodes.
Reese is hit. Drops the charge in his hand, unlit.
Sarah screams and weaves, barely in control.
226 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 226
Sarah reaches across and pulls Reese's limp body back inside.
He slumps on the seat, moaning. Stunned.
He has a bullet in the chest.
Sarah feels all hope recede.
227 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 227
Terminator crosses behind the truck, coming up on Sarah's side.
Sarah shrieks as the doorpost next to her head CLANGS with HITS.
The short burst EMPTIES THE GUN.
It CLATTERS TO THE PAVEMENT a moment later, discarded.
Terminator draws the .38. Takes aim.
Sarah SCREAMS. HITS THE BREAKS HARD. CRANKS THE WHEEL.
GLASS behind her EXPLODES with gunfire.
SWERVING VICIOUSLY the truck SLAMS THE BIKE, sending it FLYING INTO A GUARDRAIL. Terminator goes over the handle bars at a hundred miles per hour.
228 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 228
Sarah fights the wheel, losing control of the slewing pickup.
229 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 229
Terminator and the bike flip over the center guardrail.
He hits the pavement, tumbling, rolling, sliding with a CHATTERING SCREECH and spraying sheets of SPARKS as flesh strips away and steel screams on concrete.
The pickup SWAPS ENDS violently, smashing into the guardrail.
230 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 230
Terminator slides to a stop in the middle of the oncoming lanes.
231 INT./EXT. PICKUP - NIGHT 231
Sarah is slammed hard as the truck grinds to a stop against the guardrail. She checks Kyle. He is barely conscious.
She turns to look at the body of Terminator in the opposing traffic lane.
232 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 232
After a long moment Terminator slowly rolls over and sits up.
LOW ANGLE as he rises into FRAME, a mass of blood. Clothing and skin in tatters.
HEADLIGHTS FLARE behind him and an AIRHORN BLARES.
FULL SHOT as a TRACTOR-TRAILER GASOLINE TANKER smashes him down and under with a METALLIC CRASH.
ANGLE UNDER TANKER as Terminator rolls, clattering, and the mass blurs above him. He RICOCHETS between the pavement and the speeding undercarriage until a stray bounce flings him up into the rear suspension. He clings with inhuman strength.
233 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 233
UP ANGLE ON SARAH
at the door of the pickup. She raises one fist into the air triumphantly.
234 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 234
The stunned DRIVER hits the brakes. His PARTNER grabs his arm.
They lock eyes for a moment.
I have to, man.
235 OMITTED 235
236 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 236
Sarah watches the truck roll on without leaving a body in its wake.
She feels a premonitory dread.
237 EXT. HIGHWAY/TANKER 237
Beneath the braking semi, Terminator CRAWLS UPSIDE-DOWN, hand over hand like a HUMAN FLY, toward CAMERA. The left eye GLOWS LIKE A COAL in the dark. As the pavement stops beneath him he drops off and rolls out from under the truck.
238 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 238
The driver looks around in astonishment as his door is ripped open.
Terminator appears. A grisly apparition.
FLINGS THE DRIVER OUT and takes his place behind the wheel.
Ignoring the terrified partner, he examines the controls.
EXPLOSION - CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
238/ POV - TERMINATOR - NIGHT 238/FX
In digitized cyborg-vision we see an ABSTRACT OF THE INSTRUMENTS. The shift lever is extended graphically down into a three-dimensional SCHEMATIC OF THE TRANSMISSION. Analytical DATA PRINTS OUT RAPID-FIRE.
239 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 239
Sarah watches in growing horror as the door to the distant tractor-cab opens and the partner leaps out...hits the ground running.
The nightmare refuses to end.
The pickup is out of action. Flat tire.
She searches the cab frantically for the KEYS TO THE MOTORCYCLE. Finds them above the sunvisor.
Sarah leaps into the bed of the pickup and attacks the motorcycle strap-downs frantically.
The tanker ROARS, begins to move. Swings in a ponderous arc.
Panting with terror she rolls the bike off the truck.
It crashes on its side and she falls on it painfully.
The tanker TEARS THROUGH THE DIVIDING FENCE.
Turns toward her.
Straining until she CRIES OUT INVOLUNTARILY, she lifts the bike upright.
KICKS the engine over.
up the face of the tractor-trailer, the retaining wall blurring by. Terminator's red eye can be seen behind the windshield.
The truck BELLOWS, shifting up through the gears.
Sarah kicks again and again, crying out with each stroke.
Again and again, furiously.
Come on, come on, come on...run, you...
Sarah looks down.
DETAIL - Two high-velocity rifle bullets have shattered the engine case.
The bike is useless.
She looks up.
The truck is bearing down on her B.G., a mountain of metal.
She drags Reese, stumbling, from the cab of the ruined pickup.
Hauls him over the retaining wall.
as the tanker demolishes the pickup a moment later, TOSSING IT ASIDE LIKE A BEER CAN.
240 OMITTED 240
241/ 242 OMITTED 241/242
243 OMITTED 243
244 EXT. INDUSTRIAL SITE - NIGHT 244
Sarah and Kyle scramble under a locked gate and run across the STORAGE LOT of a MODERN FACTORY COMPLEX of LOW BUILDINGS.
Kyle struggles to keep up, holding the satchel.
LIKE A JUGGERNAUT the truck follows, smashing through parked cars and a chain link security gate, demolishing the guard shack.
They enter an alley-like space between two buildings.
Kyle is fumbling to open the satchel.
245 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 245
OVER TERMINATOR'S SHOULDER, looking down at a tiny figure below, running in the headlights' glare. It is Sarah, alone.
246 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 246
Reese crouches in a TRASH DUMPSTER which is sandwiched between the wall and the tanker. There are only inches of clearance as the trailers pass by.
He lights a PIPE CHARGE, jumps up and wedges it under the tank-cylinder of the second trailer.
He ducks as it rolls on.
Sarah is stumbling in the glare of the truck's lights.
E.C.U. - PIPE BOMB
the fuse burning.
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR
through the windshield, his eye glowing.
C.U. - REESE
huddled in the dumpster.
247/ LOW WIDE ANGLE ON SARAH AND TRAILER (PROCESS SHOT) - NIGHT 247/FX
The REAR TRAILER EXPLODES. An unbelievable FIREBALL ERUPTS SKYWARD, silhouetting Sarah's running figure F.G.
The dumpster is enveloped by fire and hurled, rolling, down the alley.
Sarah makes it around a corner as the FORWARD TRAILER EXPLODES and an OCEAN OF FLAME rolls forward, blasting by her.
The dumpster topples and Kyle rolls out, surrounded by fire.
248/ SEQUENCE - TERMINATOR - NIGHT 248/FX
In the center of the inferno Terminator struggles violently.
His FLESH FIRES AND SIZZLES. He tears loose from the TWISTED WRECKAGE and collapses to the ground. Sinks into a CHARRED MASS. STOPS MOVING.
C.U. - TERMINATOR
mouth open, skull-like, motionless in the flames.
249 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 249
Sarah crawls away from the intense heat and lies watching the motionless figure in the blaze.
250 EXT. ALLEY/FAR END - NIGHT 250
Sarah rounds the corner, staggering, searching.
She sees Kyle crumpled face-down near the dumpster, sheltered from the heat by its mass.
She drags him away. Rolls him over.
C.U. - KYLE
his head lolls. He opens his eyes
We did it, Kyle. We got it.
She hugs him.
250/ FULL SHOT (PROCESS) 250/FX
They hold the embrace, silhouetted by the diminishing flames.
It would be a wonderful final image.
Except...TERMINATOR STAGGERS OUT OF THE BLAZE BEHIND THEM.
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR
the last flakes of flesh are falling from him like burning leaves. His gleaming structure is revealed in all its intricacy. No longer a 'He', but an 'It'.
It looks like Death rendered in steel.
A CHROME SKELETON with HYDRAULIC MUSCLES and TENDONS OF FLEXIBLE CABLE. In the sockets of the metal skull, the eyeballs swivel with a WHIR of tiny servos, both glowing red now.
It turns slowly and fixes its gaze directly INTO CAMERA.
251 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 251
C.U. - SARAH
She chokes on a scream, crams knuckles in her mouth.
FULL SHOT (FX)
as the machine takes a step toward them, dragging one MALFUNCTIONING LEG.
PANAGLIDE WITH KYLE AND SARAH as they stagger to their feet and run to the nearest building. They come to a glass door.
Kyle kicks it in. Unlatches it. They enter dark OFFICES to the sound of ALARMS and DISTANT SIRENS.
HUNK 'O BURNING STEEL - CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
252 INT. CORRIDORS - NIGHT 252
Sarah and Kyle run down a corridor.
Through a door, which they close and lock.
They move off down a cross-corridor.
The Terminator BLASTS THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES, F.G., and staggers through. It starts after their receding figures as they round the corner at the end of the hall.
253 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 253
Wracked, exhausted, they stumble through a maze of PARTITIONED OFFICE CUBICLES.
254 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 254
The Terminator catches sight of them through a floor-to-ceiling window. It makes an unhesitating right turn through the glass.
255 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 255
Sarah and Kyle look back at the sound of SHATTERING GLASS.
FOLLOWING SARAH AND KYLE as they reach a heavy FIREDOOR and go through.
256 INT. MANUFACTURING AREA - NIGHT 256
Kyle slides the bolts on the metal firedoor. Behind them are acres of machinery in darkness. Silence.
CRASH! The Terminator hits the door from the far side.
Kyle goes to a LARGE BREAKER PANEL and opens it. Starts throwing switches. Behind them, machines START UP ONE BY ONE.
What are you doing?
He sags, sliding down the wall. She pulls him up.
Half-carries him to the maze of machines.
The dark gallery is filled with WHIRRING, CLANKING SHAPES, SHATTERING CONVEYER BELTS and improbable mechanisms lashing mindlessly.
Reese slips to the floor and Sarah is no longer able to support him.
Leave me here.
Sarah crouches beside him.
Grabs his shirt front.
Yells over the machines.
I'm not leaving you anywhere, you jerk. Haven't you figured it out? Kyle, John is our son.
Reese's eyes refocus.
There isn't going to be anybody else...I don't want anybody else. Listen to me!
She pauses, then resumes in a commanding, military shout.
Move! Reese! Let's go soldier.
Move your ass!
She drags him to his feet and he staggers on.
Hinges SHATTER and the firedoor is hurled inward.
The Terminator scans the darkness.
ANGLE - PANNING WITH SARAH AND KYLE
as they move through the machines.
The cyborg steps forward, scanning methodically.
Sarah and Kyle move in a crouch through the treacherous tangle of pipes and machinery. Kyle picks up a length of pipe to use as a weapon. As they climb out onto a catwalk between the two huge mechanisms, Sarah clambers over an innocuous CONTROL PANEL.
Her knee inadvertently hits a RED PUSH BUTTON.
With a ROAR the stamping-plate of a HYDRAULIC PRESS slams down an inch from her hand.
Startled, she tumbles to the catwalk.
The Terminator's eyes swivel as he hears the single non-rhythmic sound.
Kyle and Sarah run to the end of the catwalk, but find the door is locked.
GIVING EVERYTHING - CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
They double back to escape the cul-de-sac. The Terminator steps in front of them, cutting them off.
He pushes Sarah roughly and she stumbles away.
Kyle raises the pipe with his good arm as the Terminator advances.
(over his shoulder)
Run, damn it!
She hesitates, backing away.
The cyborg swings at Reese STEEL CLANGS ON STEEL.
Kyle strikes and parries but is sledgehammered back.
ANGLE ON CATWALK as Kyle lands in a heap, smashed against a stanchion of the railing which prevented him falling to the factory floor twenty feet below.
Sarah turns and runs.
LOW ANGLE PAST REESE, F.G., as the cyborg approaches him.
E.C.U. - A FUSE BURNING.
C.U. - KYLE'S FACE
streaked with blood, pressed to the floor as a metal foot CLANGS DOWN, F.G. His eyes snap open.
Sarah falls, gets up, runs on.
The Terminator draws back for a death blow.
And Kyle rolls with the last of his strength, raising the pipe bomb he has been cradling. He jams it between two hydraulic cylinders just beneath the cyborg's armored ribcage. Then rolls off the catwalk. Terminator has an instant to react, reaching for the bomb, before it EXPLODES.
Sarah is pitched forward by the blast and slides on the floor.
Slams up against one wall.
A withering spray of shrapnel strafes the walls around her.
Pieces of scrap metal clatter throughout the factory, raining down.
C.U. - SARAH
very still. She winces and opens her eyes.
Slowly looks up.
POV - SARAH
as the smoke clears. The Terminator is GONE.
Unrecognizable clumps of BURNING DEBRIS lie scattered about.
Looking down through the grating floor she sees Kyle's body.
LOW ANGLE ON KYLE F.G.,/SARAH ON CATWALK ABOVE
Kyle's eyes are half-open. Still. His face peaceful.
Sarah looks down. Protruding from her right thigh is a TWISTED PIECE OF METAL. Shrapnel. Part of the cyborg. She pulls it out, grimacing. Her leg is broken.
It is a long time before she can gather the will to move.
She starts to crawl towards Reese's body.
She passes A LARGE CLUMP OF DEBRIS, F.G.
ANGLE ON DEBRIS (FX)
as it rolls over suddenly!
HEAD OVER HEELS - CHAPTER THIRTY
Now recognizable as the TERMINATOR'S HEAD AND ARMS, with half of the scattered torso trailing wires and twisted metal.
IT LUNGES FOR HER!
Sarah wants to scream this time, from the depths of her soul, but there is no scream, only a dry shivering sob.
The Terminator drags itself SCRAPING over the floor, steel fingers clutching.
Sarah is shaking and whimpering as she scrabbles away, crawling in agony.
ANGLE ON CONVEYOR BELT as Sarah flops from the catwalk onto the MOVING STRIP. She is carried into the intricate lattice of equipment. Sarah rolls off weakly before going under a set of sorting rollers.
ANGLE THROUGH MACHINERY - ON THE TERMINATOR (FX)
as it crawls after her, dragging its body. It tracks her unerringly, EYES GLOWING.
Sarah moves deeper into the DARK, CLASHING JUNGLE of machinery.
Around her is a tangle of CABLES, PIPES and unforgiving mechanisms of steel.
The Terminator clambers through after her.
C.U. - SARAH
She catches sight of something. A familiar CONTROL BOX.
She drags herself toward it.
C.U. - THE TERMINATOR (FX)
It spots her wedged in a tiny crawl space. No way out.
It crawls the last few feet, EYES RED IN THE DARK.
Hypnotized, Sarah watches the Terminator REACHING TOWARD HER.
She is jammed in a corner.
Sarah's hand claws around to the front of the control panel, seeking the RED BUTTON.
E.C.U. - HER WET FINGERTIPS FEEL THE BUTTON.
ANGLE ON THE TERMINATOR (FX)
his steel hand reaching out.
E.C.U. - SARAH
her face inexplicably calm, eyes steady in that infinite instant. She clenches her teeth to keep from screaming as she WAITS.
The Terminator's hand reaches for her throat to crush the life out of her and end its long mission.
E.C.U. - BUTTON
as her bloody finger stabs it down.
showing how the cyborg has been led into the MAW OF THE HYDRAULIC PRESS.
THE STAMPING PLATE THUNDERS DOWN!
Tons of mechanical pressure flatten the Terminator's head and body like tin-foil. The PRESS SCREAMS, jamming solid.
Lightning snaps out in one brief blaze, leaping to surrounding machinery, arcing to Sarah's wristwatch. All the Terminator's energy is released in one second.
ANGLE ON THE NARROW GAP BETWEEN THE UPPER AND LOWER PLATES
a pinpoint of red light DWINDLES AND GOES OUT.
TIGHT ON SARAH
shivering uncontrollably. The steel fingers are frozen an inch from her throat. She can only stare as water runs over her.
257 INT. FACTORY - DAWN 257
CLOSE ON the side rail of an ambulance gurney SNAPPING UP into position. Sarah's eyes are closed and she is moved OUT OF FRAME.
showing the gurney being rolled by TWO ATTENDANTS past the site of the last explosion.
SEVERAL POLICE OFFICERS are picking through the debris.
PANNING WITH THE GURNEY as it is wheeled out, holding on TWO FACTORY EMPLOYEES, F.G.
One, the PLANT MANAGER, bends to examine a piece of the cyborg lying at the base of the hydraulic press.
A COP, B.G., notices this.
Look, I told you not to touch anything until we're done. You got that?
Sure thing, officer.
He stands and palms a small object to HIS ASSISTANT. They step around the corner.
What is it?
Microcomputer chassis. But I've never seen stuff like this anywhere.
Weird. Jap stuff, maybe?
Keep it out of sight and get it down to R and D Monday, first thing.
258 EXT. BUILDING - DAWN 258
Sarah is being lifted into the ambulance.
She closes her eyes, drifting into unconsciousness.
TILT UP as the ambulance door is closed.
The sign above the entrance of the building reads:
SLOW DISSOLVE TO:
A STORM IS COMING - CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
259 INT./EXT. LANDROVER - LATE AFTERNOON 259
MACRO ON CASSETTE RECORDER, the center capstans of a tape turning.
...and the hardest thing is deciding what I should tell you and what not to. Well, anyway, I've got a while yet before you're old enough to understand the tapes. They're more for me at this point... to help get it all straight.
reveals Sarah as the wheel of a dusty landrover parked at the pump island of a tiny gas station. All of it's signs are in hand-lettered Spanish. Beyond lies an expanse of scrub desert. The sky scowls with an impending storm.
Sarah speaks quietly into a hand microphone as a dark-complected attendant laconically fills her tank. She cradles the cassette recorder in her lap, in the lee of her SWOLLEN BELLY.
She looks to be about SIX MONTHS ALONG.
Under her down vest she wears a leather shoulder holster and the butt of a .357 REVOLVER presses against her breast. She tugs the vest closed as the attendant glances her way. A German Shepherd sits in the back among taped boxes and suitcases.
Should I tell you about your father? That's a tough one. Will it change your decision to send him here... knowing? But if you don't send Kyle, you could never be. God, you can go crazy thinking about all this. I suppose I'll tell you...I owe him that. And maybe it'll be enough if you know that in the few hours we had together we loved a lifetime's worth...
CLICK. WHIR. Sarah jumps at a sound nearby, breaking her reverie. A small MEXICAN BOY has snapped her picture with an instant camera. He holds it out to her, speaking rapid Spanish.
He says you are very beautiful, Senora, and he is ashamed to ask five American dollars for this picture, but if he does not, his father will beat him.
That's a pretty good hustle, kid.
The boy takes her four dollars and she watches the snapshot develop. It is a good photograph of her, the wind lightly ruffling her hair, expression thoughtful, slightly sad.
We recognize it as the one Reese carried in 2029.
She slips it into her shirt pocket.
Mil trescientos...fifteen dollars
As she pays him, distant thunder rolls.
The boy yells something in Spanish as he runs off.
What did he say?
There is a storm coming in.
Sarah gazes at the thunderheads building up out over the desert. Heat lightning pulses in their depths.
CAMERA CRANES UP as she pulls away, driving across the flat desert on a ribbon of highway. A brilliant flash crescendos from horizon to horizon out at the rim of the world.
END CREDITS - CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO