SCRIPT: "TERMINATOR" by James Cameron


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CUT TO TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY: 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. A patch of SCALP is blown away, revealing CHROME underneath.

A flap of skin dangles from his cheek, which exposes some of the DRIVE CABLES which move the lips. 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.

CUT TO POV - TERMINATOR: 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.

CUT TO HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY: A MIDDLE-AGED MAN with a torn T-shirt covering his paunch knocks on the door. He is wheeling a trash cart.

MAN: Hey, buddy, you got a dead cat in there of what?

CUT TO TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY: TIGHT ON TERMINATOR as he looks up.

CUT TO POV - TERMINATOR: The digitized image PANS to the door and a LOGIC-FLOWDIAGRAM appears overlaid in color-coded words. It concluded with a list of potential appropriate responses:

YES/NO
OR WHAT
GO AWAY
PLEASE COME BACK LATER
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE

The last begins to FLASH, and enlarges to fill the screen.

CUT TO RESUME ANGLE

TERMINATOR: Fuck you, asshole.

He returns to his scan.

CUT TO CORRIDOR - DAY: The man shrugs and walks down the hall.

CUT TO MOTEL - DAY 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 side 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.

CUT TO MOTEL OFFICE - DAY: Reese pulls a crumpled wad of bills from his jeans and shows it to Sarah.

REESE: Is this enough?

SARAH: Yes. And I don't want to know where you got it.

She turns to the desk clerk, a female version of the pawn- shop lizard.

SARAH (to clerk): We need a room...with a kitchen.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - DUSK Kyle and Sarah enter the spartan room.

SARAH: I'm dying for a shower. You could use one too. And we'd better check that bandage.

REESE: Later. I'm going out for materiel. Keep this.

He hands her the .38 he took off the detective. 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.

CUT TO MOTEL - DUSK: Reese walks away toward a commercial area visible down the road.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT: Sarah is on the phone, her hair still wet from a shower. She sits on the bed with a towel wrapped around her.

SARAH: ...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:

SARAH: Okay, here's the number. Are you ready?

SARAH'S MOM (V.O.) (filtered): Go ahead.

CUT TO MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT: SLOW PAN around the room as the conversation between Sarah and her Mom continues, completely VOICE OVER.

SARAH (V.O.) (filtered): It's 408-972-1439. Room 14.

SARAH'S MOM (V.O.) (filtered): I got it.

The PAN continues, revealing an overturned chair.

SARAH (V.O.) (filtered): 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.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT: Sarah hangs up the phone, vaguely disturbed.

CUT TO MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT: Terminator rapidly dials the number Sarah gave.

TERMINATOR (HIS VOICE): Hello. (pause) Tell me your address there.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT: TIGHT ON SEVERAL GROCERY BAGS covering the counter beside the hot-plate in the tiny apartment. Reese's hands split one open and its contents spill out. FULL SHOT Sarah looks through Reese's haul.

SARAH: Let's see. Corn syrup. Ammonia. Moth balls... Mmm. What's for dinner?

REESE (preoccupied): Plastique.

There are also boxes of shotgun shells, road flares, tape, scissors, pans, a strainer and many other odd utensils, substances, chemicals.

SARAH: What's that?

REESE: Nitroglycerin, basically. Bit more stable. I learned howto make it when I was a kid.

Sarah looks a bit stricken as she contemplates the evening ahead.


CUT TO HIGHWAY/CHEVY CAMARO - NIGHT: The dashlight illuminated Terminator from beneath as he drivesthrough the night. He looks like Death. His left eyeglows a faint red in the darkness.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT: A heartwarming domestic scene. Sarah and Kyle have pulled the dresser out to use as a worktable. 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.

REESE: Make sure there's none on thethreads, like this. Now screw the end-cap on...very gently.

SARAH: You must have had a fun childhood.

REESE: That's good. Allright, six more like that and I'll get started on the fuses.


SARAH: You know, I was thinking, there's so many things to do once we get through this. The possibilities are amazing. I mean, there's Disneyland, the beach, movies...matinees with popcorn and foot-long hot dogs...

REESE: Hot dogs?

SARAH: Hot dogs....all the things you've never seen and done. I mean, you're here, but you're not really here, wherever you go you bring your war with you.


REESE: My whole life has been war.

SARAH: I want it to be over for you.

REESE: That doesn't seem possible.

SARAH: I want it to be over for me too. I feel like I've crossed some invisible line, like I'm in your world now. It's like, there's you and me, and him...nobody else can help us. They wouldn't understand.


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.

REESE: We'll head out at 0200. That gives you four hours to sleep if you want. I'll finish up here.

CUT TO MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT: ANGLE ON TABLE - The bombs are neatly ranked, finished. A nylon satchel lies nearby. The mess is cleaned up. Reese is 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 .357 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.

SARAH: He'll find us, won't he?

REESE: Probably. Sarah, if I get zeroed...

SARAH: Don't say that.

REESE: If I do, you have to get away, disappear without a trace. Different country, different name, everything. In case they send another one.

SARAH: It'll never be over, will it? Look at me, I'm shaking. Some legend, huh? You must be pretty disappointed.

REESE: No. I'm not.

Several beats before Sarah speaks again. Her eyes seem luminous in the dark.

SARAH (softly): Kyle, the women in your time...what were they like?

REESE: Good fighters.

SARAH: That's not what I meant. Was there someone special?

REESE: Someone?

SARAH: A girl. You know.


REESE (mechanically): No. . . . . Never.

He looks away, outside the window.

SARAH (softly): I'm sorry.


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.

SARAH: So much pain.

REESE: Pain can be controlled. You disconnect it.

SARAH: And so you feel nothing.

REESE: It's better that way.

SARAH (with great sympathy): Oh, Kyle.

Reese takes a long, slow breath before he answers, and when he does his voice has a new quality, an unfamiliar tenderness.

REESE: 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.

REESE (continuing): I memorized every line, every curve...

He opens his eyes, looking right at hers.

REESE (continuing): Sarah, I came across time for you. I love you. I always have.

Sarah is quietly overwhelmed. Reese looks away.

REESE (continuing): I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said...

SARAH: Kyle...


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.




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