SCRIPT: "TERMINATOR" by James Cameron

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Hotel room: The room costs five dollars a night and that's steep, but the fires escape outside the window adds an element of strategic value. A silhouette slips in through the window and click 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. He sits at a ratty folding table under the light.

His eyebrows are singed off. Hair a charred stubble. 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. He examines his non-functional right arm. He picks up an X-Acto knife and cuts deeply into the skin of his forearm.

His expression is one of mild concentration. On his forearm, 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. Terminator uses a rag to wipe away the blood. With small screwdrivers he begins to patiently disassemble the damaged mechanism around the 12-guage hit.

Terminator inspects his lacerated eye. He is close to a mirror, practically touching it, staring intently. X-Acto knife lying on the dresser. Terminator's fingers lift it as it rises to his 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.

The faintly glowing lens mechanism is revealed, suspended in a chrome socket by tiny servos. The eye whirs quietly as it tracks. Terminator makes various other repairs. His right hand, its wrist sutured crudely, holds a needle and sewing thread and starts to work on his abdominal wound. He slips a glove over the damaged hand. A motoring cap over the blistered scalp. A fresh shirt to hide his body wounds. This is followed by a new overcoat.

Terminator contemplates his reflection in the mirror. With the hat pulled down, the collar pulled up, and 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.

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.

Police Department, later: 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.

TERMINATOR: I'm a friend of Sarah Connor. I was told she is here. Can I see her, please?

SERGEANT: You can't see here. She's making a statement.

TERMINATOR: Where is she?

SERGEANT (laconically): 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.

TERMINATOR: I'll be back.

He turns and walks out through the front doors. Moments later, the officer is absorbed in paperwork, not watching as a pair of lights get brighter outside the front 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.

Sarah, lying on the couch, jerks awake as the crash reverberates through the building. She sits up, bleary-eyes.

CUT TO DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR: 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 .38 in the other. The shotgun dangles at his side on a shoulder sling. 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.

CUT TO DIVISION HQ/VUKOVICH'S OFFICE: 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.

CUT TO DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR: 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.

CUT TO DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - TERMINATOR'S POV: 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.

CUT TO DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - BEHIND WALL: The wall erupts with a volley of shots beside the running cop and he is flung OUT OF FRAME.

CUT TO VUKOVICH'S OFFICE: Shots are echoing in the hallway as Vukovich whips open the door, startling the hell out of Sarah.

VUKOVICH: Stay here.

He turns the locking knob and slams the door. Leaving her alone. She flinches as more shots sound. Closer. In the corridor, 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.

The building is plunged into darkness. Arcs sputter and flare, lighting the corridors stroboscopically. Sarah's terror skyrockets when the ceiling lamp explodes and the office goes black. Through the smoke and emergency spotlights Terminator moves forward, inexorably. A door behind him opens.

A Cop fires, hitting him in the shoulder. Terminator fires straight-arm with the .38 without slowing, killing the cop, then fires down the corridor with the assault rifle. In the Interrogation Room, Traxler leaves the other detective to guard Reese, who is still handcuffed to the chair.

TRAXLER (exciting): Watch him.

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.

Traxler is running down the hall through smoke and the wild strobing of electrical fires as Vukovich steps out of an armory room. He tosses Traxler an M-16 and they run on. Terminator stops before another door. He blasts the lock with the riot-gun. Flings open the door, scanning. Moves on. He is hit twice, chest and leg.

Firelight flickers from an office doorway as he passes. In Ed's office, 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. In a nearby office, the door splinters open and Terminator stands, guns raised.

A Cop fires from behind a desk. Terminator sprays the room. Starts to reload. In the corridor, Vukovich 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. Traxler drags Vukovich's body back inside the room.

TRAXLER: Ed! Ed...?

CUT TO CORRIDOR: TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, moving forward, intent.

CUT TO VUKOVICH'S OFFICE: MEDIUM ON SARAH, her teeth are chattering with fear as SHOTS echo nearby. There is the RHYTHMIC THUNDER of the shotgun, rattling AUTOMATIC FIRE, SCREAMING, and the sound of RUNNING FEET. Getting closer. SLOW DOLLY IN ON SARAH begins, ending in TIGHT C.U. as the sounds get louder. More SHOTS. Smoke begins to seep under the door.

The door knob is rattling rattling as it is tried from outside. Sarah stifles a cry. She flinches as if slapped as shots sound. The door knob, a series of shots shatter the lock. The door bangs open and a figure stands silhouetted in the smoky hallway, holding a pistol. Sarah closes her eyes, holds her breath.

REESE: Sarah?

She scrambles out from beneath the desk and runs to him in the thickening smoke. Reese and Sarah cross the corridor and move through a series of offices, doubling back toward the main entrance. Sarah and Reese move rapidly through the smoke. Gunfire sounds nearby. They pass bodies.

VUKOVICH (V.O.) (weakly): Reese!

They find the Lieutenant propped in a corner, dying. Reese bends toward him. Vukovich holds out his custom Colt Python .357.

VUKOVICH (continuing): You just keep her alive. Do what you have to.

Reese snatches the gun and the keys and runs on.

Terminator runs through the smoky rooms. A fire is burning, lighting everything a flickering orange. He emerges onto a landing through a side entrance. He snaps the AR-180 to his shoulder. A blue Volkswagen Rabbit is roaring away across the parking lot. Terminator aims 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. In the Rabbit, the gas gauge reads empty. The Rabbit is stopped on the shoulder of a two lane secondary road winding through the hills 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. In a ravine, past Sarah and Reese, the car trundles down crashing through the underbrush to disappear among the trees. Reese looks out across the valley and the lights of L.A. A helicopter circles in the distance, searchlight on.

REESE: Let's get off the road.

We see from the mouth of an enclosed concrete storm drain culvert 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.

REESE: You cold?

SARAH: Freezing.

REESE: Come here.

She sits beside him and they wrap their arms around each other with the blanket covering both of them.

SARAH: got a first name?

REESE: Kyle.

SARAH: Kyle, what's it like when you go through time?

REESE: White light. Pain. Like being ripped inside out... slowly. Like being born, maybe.

Sarah scowls and draws her hand out from under his jacket.

SARAH: You're wet. Oh my god.

In the beam of the flashlight her hand is glistening with blood.

REESE: I caught one, back there.

SARAH (incredulous): Caught one? You mean you got shot?

Reese shrugs.

REESE: It's not bad.

Sarah sits up and turns toward him.

SARAH: We gotta get you to a doctor.

REESE: It's okay. Forget it.

SARAH: Forget it? Are you crazy? Let me see it.

Sarah opens his jacket and the flashlight beam shows his shirt bloodsoaked at the shoulder.

SARAH (continuing): Jeez. You idiot. Take this off.

She cradles the flashlight between her knees and opens the first aid kit as he removes his jacket.

REESE (looking at the wound): See. Missed everything. Passed through the meat.

Sarah starts swabbing the flesh wound.

SARAH: This is gonna make me puke. Talk about something.

REESE: What?

SARAH: Just talk. Tell me about my son. Is he tall?

She places a gauze pad in place and starts to wrap it.

REESE: About my height. He has your-- (winces) ...damn...he has your eyes.

Sarah glances at his face for a second and then goes back to work.

SARAH: What's he like?

REESE (thoughtful): You trust him. He's got that strength. You'd die in a second for John.

SARAH: 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.

REESE: John never said much about him. He dies. Even before the war...

SARAH (interrupting): Stop! I don't want to know. Hold still. was John that ordered you here?

REESE: I volunteered.

SARAH: You volunteered?

REESE: 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.

SARAH: You talk about things I haven't done yet in the past tense. It's making me crazy. I can't think. (pause) Are you sure you've got the right person?

Reese appraises her coldly.

REESE: I'm sure.

SARAH: Come on, me? The mother of 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.

REESE: Ow! No, it's okay. It's better tight.

SARAH: And anyway, what do I know about guerrilla warfare?

REESE: You'll learn.

SARAH (angry): Look, Reese, I didn't ask for this honor and I don't want it. Any of it.

REESE: 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.

REESE (continuing): Good field-dressing.

SARAH (brightening): 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.

REESE: Sleep. It'll be light soon.

SARAH (closing her eyes): Okay. Talk some more.

REESE: About what?

SARAH (murmuring): About where you're from.

Kyle watches the helicopter circling far in the distance.

REESE: Alright. (pause) 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 them. That's when the infiltra- tors started to appear. The Terminators were the newest, the worst...

During his monologue we have PANNED into the darkness outside and to the helicopter, which flies OUT OF FRAME, leaving black. A ROTOR ROAR fades up.

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