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narrativeqa_demonstrations

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shower. Then walks back into the bedroom - She's gone - I've got to learn how to face it " He takes a towel from a cupboard and returns to the bathroom. He feels very alone. He removes his pyjamas and gets into the steam-filled shower. - she's gone - she's gone" - but the camera moves to reveal that he is not alone after all. BEAN has, simply entered the shower, and is now happily soaping himself, wearing ALISON's shower cap. manly screams from the both of them. BEAN thinks hard, then looks at his watch, makes his excuses and simple walks away. There is a folded ironing board balanced over a roll of hall carpet, see-saw fashion. One end of it is wedged under the wardrobe. BEAN's G.P.O. phone rings on the table and it's vibrations cause the bust of BEETHOVEN to fall over the edge of the table. It lands on the end of the ironing board. The Wardrobe groans as it is set off balance and falls against the wall with a heavy thump! and raising of dust. The string tied to its handle becomes taut. CUT TO: the T.V. plug in its socket. This end of the string is tied to it. The string tightens and the plug is yanked out of the socket. The T.V. screen goes blank. Shot of TEDDY in the cardboard hotel'. Sure enough, all around are posters, and the silhouette of Whistler's Mother. BEAN nods, though fairly distracted by the slice of gherkin he's found in his bun and now picks out with his fingers. The three arrive outside a large oak door. ELMER ceremoniously unlocks the door, all the time glaring at BEAN - who swallows hard. A light turns green and a buzzer sounds. Then there is the KEVIN returns the gesture and exits.. Back to the computer, BEAN clicks on an icon which takes him to the ground floor gallery. He clicks through various paintings and stops at the painting of the woman, in the castle, wearing the chastity belt. BEAN clicks and enlarges the painting to fill the screen. He happily hums the catchy tune from 'GOBLINS 2' and homes in on the tiny padlock on the chastity belt. Padlocks interest him. He clicks on the keyhole rapidly (as we have seen him do with the frog in GOBLINS 2). .Suddenly, to BEAN's surprise, the padlock starts to flash red...then the whole screen starts to flash ... before going dramatically back to black ... Now flashing in the .centre of the monitor is an icon of a tiny key. Beneath it, a row of six dashes appears (e.g - - - - - - - ). A cursor is flashing over the first dash. BEAN is totally absorbed. He loves these kinds of puzzles. With one finger, he slowly types out letters on the keyboard (he has to search for some of them). As he does so, they appear over each dash in turn: BEAN smiles and nods nervously. He knows he's probably up to something he shouldn't be. BERNIE throws BEAN a name badge with 'Dr. Bean' on it. BEAN nods. BERNIE exits. BEAN goes back to the code. He types in the first thing that comes into his head: BRUTUS and his SIDE-KICK COP fall into step behind him. They are the Police presence today. GRIERSON and BERNIE greet REYNOLDS at the entrance. GRIERSON is wearing a striking brand new light blue silk suit. in a suit, around 40, breezes in. BEAN nods. This is what BEAN likes to do best. The camera follows as he turns sees the extraordinary sight behind him... After a problem getting his. foot caught in the jaw of a sculptured dog, he walks flat along a modern sculpture, then uses a sequence of classic sculptures as stairs - on the head of a little Degas ballerina, one step on to the bottom of a horse, two steps onto the head of the person riding the horse, three steps and now he's on the other side of the hall. <b> </b>He then triumphantly pulls out a painting. It's the one!, A reserved smatter of laughter, from relief more than anything. LORD W. talks into an intercom on the table. Cut to the trustees - they shake their heads and wrinkle, their noses, not very interested. A 106 year old SIR RUPERT puts up his hand. We see the Van Gogh change to a pictorial representation of the Storage room - with an arrow pointing to where the Van Gogh is located. BEAN is clearly going to be replaced by this programme. Or not ... BEAN searches for the plug, but it's under acres of desk - so he simply pulls a cable out of the back the computer. The entire system clicks off. At which moment the Programmer comes back in. With a slightly guilty smile he picks up the cable again looks with puzzlement at the five available places to plug it in and just takes a random guess. And a disastrous one. There is a ugly electrical fizzle. The screens come on white, then pop out completely. BEAN realises that he has done something wrong and quickly shoves proudly one last time before he and BERNIE exit. GRIERSON tries to fathom the strange man who just left. DAVID frowns then sees. BEAN does not even notice her. As DAVID heads for the exit, BEAN suddenly sneezes. ANNIE sighs her disappointment. The MIME accosts a woman, pretending to brush dust from her clothes, comb her hair etc. The MIME is a bit of a pain in the ass really. The woman quickly moves on. BEAN is intrigued. The MIME mimes climbing a ladder. BEAN goes up next to him - and looks up. There's nothing there. He decides the MIME is a bit of a tricky. This is confirmed when the MIME pretends he's locked behind a pane of glass. BEAN simply pokes his finger through the imaginary glass wall, and hits the MIME's nose. CUT TO: DAVID watching bemusedly some way off. The MIME is however delighted someone is taking an interest at last. He <b> </b> takes a handkerchief from BEAN's pocket, and gets BEAN to guess which hand the hanky's in. It's not in the left. Not in the right. BEAN isn't the slightest bit impressed - he just reaches round and takes the hank-y from where it's tucked into the MIME's trousers - and heads away. As he moves off, the MIME touches h' on the shoulder. BEAN turns and the MIME starts a mocking gun duel. He draws his guns. BEAN is pretty unimpressed. The MIME turns his back and walks the 10 paces to draw. 4 He turns .... But now BEAN decides to settles it once and for all. In a brilliant piece of big mime, he puts together the biggest gun ever seen outside an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. He sets up a pedestal - opens the cable into another circuit. The Van Gogh appears happily on the screen. BEAN and PROGRAMMER both give out a sigh of relief. BEAN smiles and leaves quickly. But a second later the computer screen disintegrates and the Van Gogh slides down the screen like a water-colour in the rain. The PROG difficult to breathe. There is a knock at the door. BEAN enters. LORD WALTON smiles. The rest of the faces in the room are looking dangerously close to smug. BEAN is very nervous indeed. The phone rings. LORD WALTON answers. BEAN sits next to VINCENT and sniffs at him. VINCENT's breath hasn't improved. He slowly hangs up. Everyone has got the gist of what has just occurred with the new computer- The energy drains from them all as they contemplate another six months with BEAN still on the staff. LORD WALTON coughs politely. All get the message at the same moment and hurriedly scribble on their voting slips. The slips get handed down the line to LORD WALTON. We see that every single slip has 'BEAN' on it. There is a knock at the door. The fat, bespectacled, PROGRAMMER puts his head round it. BEAN heads on through the gallery merrily - but suddenly, his good mood is <b> </b>broken, when he notices 3 schoolgirls entering a new exhibition, called The Ultra-Human Form. This worries him - and we soon see why - BEAN heads in to the room where all the paintings are very graphic nudes, and the 3 girls are having a good giggle. BEAN quickly rushes over and with his hand covers the breasts of the painting they're inspecting. Two girls then move on to the next painting - which unfortunately also has breasts. BEAN stretches and just manages to cover them with his other	Who does Mr. Bean preform surgery on?	Lt. Brutus.
it did when Bean was playing earlier, and the 6 dashes have appeared with the flashing cursor over the first of them. All watch, intrigued by what they see. Words and figures fill the screen. BEAN throws his hands up and sings a verbal fanfare: GRIERSON moves to DAVID's side and the two stare at the screen, the meaning of its contents dawning on them. Close up of the screen as their eyes find the words: `NEW ARTIST EXHIBIT' in the middle of columns of words, figures and dollar signs. DAVID scrolls down the screen. He pushes a button, that sends a picture of what's happening in his office throughout the Gallery. My friends, good news. Mr Schimmel is not only no longer Vice- President. He actually no longer works here. Pause. All eyes turn to BEAN. CUT TO people watching the big screens everywhere. BEAN looks long and hard at BERNIE. And punches BERNIE sharply in the nose. Everyone in the gallery bursts into applause. BEAN nods his head firmly. The car pulls away. Then breaks and reverses. The SIDE-KICK gets out. SIDE-KICK opens the back of the car. He takes out a huge bunch of flowers. The chief said I was to give you these. BEAN is delighted. Then sniffs the flowers. What a nasty stink. Not his sort of thing at all. He looks sideways to Bean, who is frantically pointing to his spine. DAVID gets the message, and changes his tune.. Let me think about that, Thomas. We'd have to talk quite a salary shower. Then walks back into the bedroom - She's gone - I've got to learn how to face it " He takes a towel from a cupboard and returns to the bathroom. He feels very alone. He removes his pyjamas and gets into the steam-filled shower. - she's gone - she's gone" - but the camera moves to reveal that he is not alone after all. BEAN has, simply entered the shower, and is now happily soaping himself, wearing ALISON's shower cap. manly screams from the both of them. BEAN thinks hard, then looks at his watch, makes his excuses and simple walks away. There is a folded ironing board balanced over a roll of hall carpet, see-saw fashion. One end of it is wedged under the wardrobe. BEAN's G.P.O. phone rings on the table and it's vibrations cause the bust of BEETHOVEN to fall over the edge of the table. It lands on the end of the ironing board. The Wardrobe groans as it is set off balance and falls against the wall with a heavy thump! and raising of dust. The string tied to its handle becomes taut. CUT TO: the T.V. plug in its socket. This end of the string is tied to it. The string tightens and the plug is yanked out of the socket. The T.V. screen goes blank. Shot of TEDDY in the cardboard hotel'. Sure enough, all around are posters, and the silhouette of Whistler's Mother. BEAN nods, though fairly distracted by the slice of gherkin he's found in his bun and now picks out with his fingers. The three arrive outside a large oak door. ELMER ceremoniously unlocks the door, all the time glaring at BEAN - who swallows hard. A light turns green and a buzzer sounds. Then there is the in a suit, around 40, breezes in. BEAN nods. This is what BEAN likes to do best. The camera follows as he turns sees the extraordinary sight behind him... After a problem getting his. foot caught in the jaw of a sculptured dog, he walks flat along a modern sculpture, then uses a sequence of classic sculptures as stairs - on the head of a little Degas ballerina, one step on to the bottom of a horse, two steps onto the head of the person riding the horse, three steps and now he's on the other side of the hall. <b> </b>He then triumphantly pulls out a painting. It's the one!, A reserved smatter of laughter, from relief more than anything. LORD W. talks into an intercom on the table. Cut to the trustees - they shake their heads and wrinkle, their noses, not very interested. A 106 year old SIR RUPERT puts up his hand. We see the Van Gogh change to a pictorial representation of the Storage room - with an arrow pointing to where the Van Gogh is located. BEAN is clearly going to be replaced by this programme. Or not ... BEAN searches for the plug, but it's under acres of desk - so he simply pulls a cable out of the back the computer. The entire system clicks off. At which moment the Programmer comes back in. With a slightly guilty smile he picks up the cable again looks with puzzlement at the five available places to plug it in and just takes a random guess. And a disastrous one. There is a ugly electrical fizzle. The screens come on white, then pop out completely. BEAN realises that he has done something wrong and quickly shoves Robin Driscoll <b> </b><b>INT. NATIONAL GALLERY. BOARDROOM - DAY </b> A very grand room, with lots of wood and some very famous portraits round the walls. A group of grave gentlemen and gentlewomen. They are the trustees of the National Gallery. LORD WALTON, a very grand man, sits at the table head. To his right sits his assistant, GARETH. All are deep in thought. LORD WALTON fidgets with a pencil on the table. He raises his head as though about to speak. Everyone looks up expectantly. And... LORD WALTON goes back to fidgeting. So does everyone else. The Theme Music - big and dramatic - begins, as do the rest of the credits. BEAN gaily motors on - then unexpectedly the sweeping theme tune jumps, as if it has hit a scratch: the cinema audience should be worried there's a sound fault. BEAN comes to a street full of sleeping policemen ~ he goes at them at quite a lick - and every time he shoots over one of the bumps, the theme tune jumps violently. BEAN looks a little annoyed into the back seat - we now see the cause of the problem. Instead of having a car radio, BEAN has an old record player strapped into the back seat, playing the theme tune. On he drives, through empty streets - then JOLT - he's reached the glorious familiarity of Central London, Big Ben and all - but heels now in dreadful traffic. Heels not happy. He looks to the left and sees a very thin alleyway. He takes out a metal comb from his pocket and, using it like a bomber's sight- line-checker, measures the front of his car and the width of the alley. He 'S <b> </b>satisfied - does a 90-degree and no one's any happier. BEAN shakes his head. And then they say, "firing David isn't enough - let's prosecute him for negligence. And they prosecute me and it turns out I was negligent and I go to jail, and my wife leaves me and my daughter becomes a prostitute and I end up on Death Row sharing a cell with Butch McDick, the infamous gay rapist - or worse, I end up in the same cell as you! BEAN shows it to him. Jesus!!! I'm already thinking back to 5 minutes ago as paradise. 5 minutes ago - just walking along, shooting the breeze with my old pal Bernie. BEAN then he has a brilliant idea. He hangs the painting back up in the security cupboard and closes the doors. Then he removes from his pocket a small note book. He scribbles something on it, tears the page out, licks it and sticks it on the cupboard door. It reads `OUT OF ORDER'. BEAN is delighted. Apart from the tiny drawback that the first person who opens the cupboard will say -"Look, someone's totally destroyed Whistler's Mother- let's kill them". BEAN is less delighted. No - the most important thing is tbat no-one sees it. Ever again! He locks the cupboard with his plastic card key- That's the first thing. Then ... that's the first thing.... Next ... next is the next thing which is... obviously... ritual suicide. Look, let's get out of here. Try to act natural. The let themselves out and go into the corridor- BEAN acting his version of `natural' - very liquid. BEAN and DAVID die and go to hell until ELMER laughs at his own little joke. GRIERSON laughs too. He strolls away. BEAN hudders at the thought of his paint-choosing. DAVID lets out	At the end of the story, where does the original damaged painting end up?	In Bean's room.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled:	At the beginning of the story, what type of service does Turiddu return from?	Military Service
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled: hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Why cant Santuzza enter the church?	She had an affair.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled: Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Who is Turiddu betraying Santuzza with (having an affair with)?	Lola
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto	What are the villagers considering doing to Santuzza because of her seduction?	Excommunicating her.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled:	What does Turiddu do to Santuzza before going into the church after Lola?	He throws her to the ground.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so	What does Turiddu do after Alfio pledges to take vendetta (revenge) on him?	He repents and begs Alfio to stop.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	When Turiddu is in his mother's wine shop, after leaving the church, what does he sing about?	Wine.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so	What is signified when Turiddu bites Alfio's ear?	A fight to the death.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Who faints when she hears that Turiddu has been murdered?	Santuzza.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they	Who is Lucia to Turiddu?	Lucia is his mother.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	When Turiddu was seen at Alfio's cottage, where did Lucia suspect Turiddu to be?	He was going to buy some more wine.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Why was Santuzza being considered for excommunication?	For her seduction.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	What caused Turiddu and Alfio to start dueling?	Santuzza told Alfio that his wife had an affair with Turiddu.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano	Why does Turiddu bite Alfio's ear?	It's a Sicilian custom in accepting a duel challenge.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When	Why did Turiddu seduce Santuzza?	Because his fiance married another man, Alfio.
that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	What kind of shop did Lucia run?	Wine shop.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled: our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so	What action caused Santuzza to tell Alfio about his wife's afair?	Turiddu threw her to the ground and dismissed her.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Who was Santuzza betrayed by?	Turiddu
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano	Why did Lola marry Alfio instead of Turiddu?	Turiddu was away in the military.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When	What was Lola's relationship to Turridu?	Lola was Turridu's fiance.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto them! (Sorte Alfio e s'incontra con Santuzza.) (Ad Alfio rianimandosi.) Oh! Il Signore vi manda, compar Alfio. (Tranquillo.) A che punto Ã¨ la messa? Ã tardi ormai, ma per voi (Con intenzione.) Lola Ã¨ andata con Turiddu! (Sorpreso.) Che avete detto? (Minaccioso.) Se voi mentite, vo' schiantarvi il core. (Dopo un poco di pausa.) Comare Santa, allor grato vi sono. (Escono.) (The people enter from the church. Lucia crosses and enters the inn.) (sotto voce.) Now homeward, now homeward ye neighbors, Good cheer is awaiting there; And wives our joy will share, Now Easter day shall be for all a time of rest, Without sorrow or care. (Lola and Turiddu come from the church.) (All take cups from the bar of the inn.) (To Lola.) To those who love you! (Drinks.) (To Turiddu.) May fortune give you favor! (Drinks.) (All drink.) Come, let us drink another! TURIDDU. Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell up-on you throw-ing, Like a smile from hap-py love Hail! the ru-by wine now flow-ing, Bright-ly in the cup now show-ing, Mer-ry spell around you throw-ing, Like the smile of hap-py love! Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! ... Hail! ah, wine so rich-ly gleam-ing! In thy crim-son joy is beam-ing! All thy com-fort lend us, With thy cheer at-tend us--Hope and love! (Tutti escono di chiesa. Lucia attraversa la scena ed entra in casa. A gruppi sotto voce fra loro.) (Uomini.) A casa, a casa, amici, ove ci aspettano Le nostre donne, andiam, Or che letizia rasserena gli animi. (Donne.) A casa, a casa, amiche, ecc. (Rivolgendosi al Coro che s'avvia.) Intanto, amici, qua, Beviamone un bicchiere. (Tutti si avvicinano hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	Who did Lola marry while Turridu served in the military?	Alfio
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so	What is Santuzza's relationship to Turridu?	Santuzza is Turridu's lover.
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When	Who does Lola begin an affair with over jealousy of Santuzza?	Turridu
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon our next pamphlet goes out to the clubs of our national federation I shall list the book for use as a reference manual for the entire season for club study." =Dr. Percy Goetschius=, Institute of Musical Art, New York City: "I am _thoroughly delighted_ with the book. It is an original, very sensible and practical method of approaching this important subject; it is admirably planned and its comprehensive contents admirably systematized; and it is written with a delightful mixture of simplicity and erudition that makes it both easy to use and appealing to the student." A List of Victor Record Illustrations to accompany Music Appreciation, by Clarence C. Hamilton, A. M., Professor of Music at Wellesley College, has been prepared by the Educational Department of the Victor Talking Machine Company, and will be sent free to any address, on request, by Oliver Ditson Company. The Art of Singing Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York Â¶ This work is based upon the principles of the Old Italian Singing-masters, and deals with Breath Control, Production of Voice, and Register. The Management of the Breath, the Vocal Organ, the Jaw, Soft Palate, Lips and Face, Eyes, Attack and Legato Tone, the Three Registers of the Voice, Force, Intensity, and Expression are illustrated by many cuts and exercises. Â¶ We find a logical, clear, precise, and well ordered system in the work which must commend it to all who study it.--_Musical Courier_. Â¶ This book will be made one of the useful "tools of the trade" by many intelligent and progressive teachers.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger_. Â¶ A careful examination of contents will tend to give any earnest student an even higher estimate of the worth of Shakespeare and his famous method.--_Music News_. Â¶ Mr. Shakespeare has for so	What has Turridu gone to fetch when Santuzza approaches Lucia?	wine
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	What was Turridu actually doing instead of fetching wine?	seeing Lola
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto	What is Lucia's relationship to Turridu?	Lucia is Turrido's mother
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers	What type of business does Lucia operate?	a wine shop
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When hundred and twenty-eight music pages, contains sixteen secular numbers and eleven sacred. The names of the distinguished editors are a guarantee of the high quality of the book. Care has been taken to avoid music of more than average difficulty, or of extreme vocal range. Every number was chosen because of its intrinsic beauty as well as singableness. The interesting _Foreword_ by the managing editor records the development of _a cappella_ music in this country. Unparalleled in both quality and price. Contains one hundred and twenty-eight pages of music, an elaborate and helpful Foreword, and _Hints for the Singers_ by Dr. Hollis Dann. Of the fifty-one musical numbers, forty-two are secular and nine are sacred. More than half are made available in _a cappella_ form for the first time. As the best possible preparation for acquiring independent movement of voices accustomed only to part-songs that move solidly together, the book opens with fifteen canons, rounds, and catches by Byrd, Hayes, Haydn, Hilton, Purcell, and others. These are followed by two canzonets of Morley (two-part) and three-part (S. A. B.) choruses by Shield and Ford and arrangements of folksongs. The body of the book consists of four-part madrigals, folksongs, two Negro spirituals, and other choruses. Several five-part songs are included. Morley, Weelkes, Pilkington, Bennet, Gevaert, Lully, Praetorius, Mozart, Bortniansky, Archangelsky, Sibelius, and others are represented. While the musical standard of the editors is high, pains have been taken to selectmusic that not only is suitable in range and text for junior choruses, but is hearty, joyous, and singable. This truly significant volume will fill a great need, and be the happiest possible introduction to the art of unaccompanied chorus singing. =Choral Fantasia from Carmen= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 No opera has more numbers may be understood by anyone. A tone is _something to hear_. Therefore, to be right it must satisfy the trained ear. A good tone is _easily produced_. It is the bad tone that is difficult. A considerable part of voice-training must be devoted to _getting rid of resistance_, that is, effort at the wrong point. Good voice-production is based on the _right idea_ of tone and right conditions of the instrument. The study of singing should be _an invigorating and inspiring form_ of exercise. To sing _well_ is an accomplishment _well_ worth the time and effort involved. An adequate treatment of breath-control, vowel-formation, vowel-color, tone-quality, resonance, consonants, phonetic spelling, diction, the head voice. Ample exercises for flexibility. An illuminating discussion of interpretation, and how to study a song. An outline of the principles of interpretation as a basis of criticism. Purchase of outside material unnecessary. The book is COMPLETE in itself, with ample text, nearly 150 exercises and studies, 25 songs and 7 duets. For Additional Teaching Material Issued in Two Editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 each Issued in two editions--Medium High--Medium Low--$1.00 _each_ Because of the success of the _First Year_ book and the demand for a second book, a step in advance, this collection has been issued. It contains twenty-three second-year songs, including two duets, from the works of Brahms, Densmore, Franz, Fisher, Grieg, Henschel, Jensen, Manney, Schubert, Schumann, Sinding, Strickland, Tchaikovsky and Watts. The editors have added helpful notes to each of the songs and the volume includes hints on Teaching Procedure, Diction, and the Principles of Singing. Based on Methods of Literary Criticism Music Students Library, with 263 illustrations, diagrams and music cuts. 396 pages, cloth Price, $2.50 The illustrative examples of piano pieces and songs that appear in this book are issued in a separate volume entitled:	What secret does Santuzza reveal to Alfio in desperation?	that Alfio's wife is having an affair with Turridu
il) car-ret-tie-re an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ ! an-dar schioc-chi la fru-sta, Son quÃ ! Oh che bel me-stie-re fa-(re il) car-ret-tie-re, oh che bel me-stier, an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ , an-dar di quÃ , an-dar di lÃ ! E Pa (squa ed) io son quÃ , ... an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , an-dar di (quÃ e) di lÃ , E Pas-(qua ed) io son qua, ... son qua!... (Chorus withdraws into the church; others separate in various directions.) (Surprised.) (Rapidly, to Lucia.) (Exit.) (In church.) Queen of the Heavens, sorrow flieth! (External chorus.) (In church.) Thy holy Son lives, nor dieth! (within.) From the dead He now hath risen, Truly hath He risen. (External. Grouping in devotional attitudes.) We will sing of the Lord now victorious! All the terrors of death were in vain! Let us sing of the Christ ever glorious; He is risen, in glory to reign! (All enter the church, except Santuzza and Lucia.) (Il Coro esce, alcuni entrano in chiesa, altri prendone direzioni diverse.) (Spigliato.) Mamma Lucia, N'avete ancora di quel vecchio vino? (Sorpresa.) (A Lucia rapidamente.) (Esce.) (Interno.) Regina CÅli, lÃ¦tare-- Quia, quem meruisti potare-- Resusrexit sicut dixit-- (Esterno.) (Uomini e donne entrano e si schierano innanzi alla Chiesa in atteggiamento devoto.) Inneggiamo, il Signor non Ã¨ morto! Ei fulgente ha dischiuso l'avel, Inneggiamo al Signore risorto Oggi asceso alla gloria del ciel! (Tutti entrano in chiesa tranne Santuzza e Lucia.) (To Santuzza.) And why with signals would you gain my silence? (Lucia enters the church) (Lucia entra in chiesa.) (Entering.) Thou here, Santuzza! (Entrando.) Tu qui Santuzza? (Parlato.) Dove sei stato? (Parlato.) Che vuoi tu dire? A Francofonte. (Con angoscia.) Battimi, insultami, t'amo e perdono Ma Ã¨ troppo forte l'angoscia mia. (Troncando nel sentire avvicinarsi Lola.) (Behind scenes.) Bright flower, that are known and loved for their piquant rhythms and exquisite melodies than Bizet's masterpiece. It teems with color and life. The editor has introduced all the best of these and in the logical order in which they appear in the score. Solos, trios and choruses are all present in an easy choral arrangement, which closes brilliantly with the famous Toreador March. =Choral Fantasia from Faust= (Arranged by N. Clifford Page) .50 The arranger has cleverly contrived that all the best known solos, concerted numbers and chorus are included in this fantasia, in the order in which they appear in the opera. All are treated chorally, and difficulties are so treated that high schools and popular choruses may perform the work. To Whittier's stirring ballad, based on a quaint incident in an old New England past, the composer has made attractive and ingenious music, especially adapted for performance by schools and amateur societies. A short and easy work, the music melodious though not without dramatic touches. It calls for a solo baritone. The part writing makes large use of unisons, and awkward progressions have been avoided. (Also issued for men's voices) The Ditson Novelty List is well worth while. Ask to have your name added to our mailing list. The Clippinger Class-Method of Voice Culture An altogether sane, balanced and practical text book by one of America's eminent authorities on the voice. It contains 132 pages of instructive text, technical exercises, melodic studies, and carefully chosen songs and duets. The author's deep study of the voice together with his long experience in solving difficult vocal problems in the studio has enabled him to rid the subject of vagary, mystery, and uncertainty, and state the principles of voice-training so clearly and simply that they so radiant! Angelic thousands stand arrayed in heaven, Yet none so fair as thou hath yet been given! (Enters. Pauses suddenly.) Oh! Turiddu, hast thou seen Alfio? (Confusedly.) Santuzza here was telling-- (Meaningly.) And the Lord all things beholdeth! (To Santuzza.) Thou wilt not go to the service? (Vehemently.) In the grace of the Saviour I bow before thee! (Bitterly.) O, well thou speakest!-- Lola! (Embarrassed.) (To Lola.) Away then! Come, Lola; Here there is naught to hold us. (Ironically.) Oh, stay thou with _her_! (To Turiddu.) Yes, stay thou! (Firmly.) I have something yet to tell thee: (Mockingly.) May the Saviour assist thee! (Going.) So, I will leave thee. (Enters the church.) (Dentra alla scena.) Fior di giaggiolo Gli angeli belli stano A mille in cielo Ma belli come lui Ce n'Ã¨ uno solo. (Entra in iscena e s'interrompe.) Oh! Turiddu, e passato Alfio? (Confuso affret.) Santuzza mi narrava-- (Subito.) Io no, ci deve andar chi sa (Con intenzione.) Di non aver peccato! (Con forza.) Io ringrazio il Signore, e bacio in terra! (Esprimendosi.) Oh! fate bene, fate bene, (Con amarezza.) (A Lola.) (Impacciato.) Andiamo, andiamo, Oni non abbiani che fare. (A Turiddu.) (Con ironia.) (A Turiddu con fermezza.) SÃ¬, resta, resta, Ho da parlarti ancora. (Sempre ironica.) E v'assista il Signore, (Con caricatura.) Io me ne vado. (Entra in chiesa.) (To Sant.) Ah! how foolish! naught availing! (Coldly.) I have spoken; 'tis well--'tis the truth. (Threateningly.) Ah! by heaven! (Approaching her.) (Warding him away.) Turiddu, ah! hear me! (Turns from her.) (Threateningly.) False! False! (With increased rage.) Thus I reward thee in my anger. (Throws her down, and hastens into the church.) (In the height of fury.) Accurs'd! accurs'd at Easter, thou false one. (Falls, despairingly.) (Con ironia.) Ah! lo vedi, che hai tu detto? (Fredda.) L'hai voluto for-sake me, Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. I re-peat it, Go! Ah! ... Go! I re-peat it, Go! I re-peat ... it! Go! ... Go! Vain were re-pent-ance for thine of-fend-ing! Once more do I tell thee, go! And, for-ev-er! SANTUZZA. No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra ab-ban-do-nar-mi dun-que tu vuo-i? No, no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? No, no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, no, Tu-rid-du, Tu-rid-du ri-ma-ni an-co-ra. TURIDDU. Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi, per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi sul-li-mi-ta-re fin del-la chie-sa? Per-chÃ¨ se-guir-mi per-chÃ¨ spi-ar-mi? SANTUZZA. La! tu-a San-tuz-za pian (ge e) t'im-plo-ra ... co-me cac-ciar-la co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i, la tua San-tuz-za! no, Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-(ni an) co-ra! Oh! Tu-rid-du! no, Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-(ni an)-cor. no! Tu-rid-du! Ah! ... no, TURIDDU. va ti ri-pe-to, va non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. non te-diar-mi va! va! va! va ... ti ... SANTUZZA. Tu-rid-du, ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-(ni an)-co-ra, an-cor. no! no! no! la tua San-tuz-za va-no, do-po - l'of-fe-sa. pian(ge e) t'im-plo-ra, co-me cac-ciar-la, co-me cac-ciar-la tu puo-i? La tua San-tuz-za piange (e e) t'im-plo-ra co-me cac-ciar-la? co-sÃ¬ tu puo-i TURIDDU. ri-pe-to non te-diar-mi, pen-tir-(si Ã¨) va-no, do-po l'of-fe-sa pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. va! va! va! va, ti ri-pe-to, va, va! va! SANTUZZA. tu puo-i co-sÃ¬ Ah! ... dun-que tu vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi? ah! no! Tu-rid-du! ri-ma-ni, ri-ma-ni an-co-ra, dun-que vuo-i ab-ban-do-nar-mi. Tu-rid-du! TURIDDU. ti ri-pe-to va! ah! ... va ti ri-pe-to, va, non te-diar-mi va! ... Pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa, pen-tir-si Ã¨ va-no do-po l'of-fe-sa. (Enter, Alfio.) (Calming herself.) Oh! doth the Saviour send thee, neighbor Alfio? (Surprised.) What are you saying? (Threateningly.) And if thou art lying I'll have thy heart's blood! (After a pause.) Santuzza, I am thankful that you have spoken. (Suddenly, in fury.) T'is they who are shameful! Revenge I'll have upon them! This day and hour my wrath Shall fall upon Size, 9Â½ Ã 12Â½; 144 pages; paper Price, $1.50 A thorough and unique textbook for individual use, music clubs, classes, and educational institutions. Invaluable for those who wish to listen to music with quickened hearing and real understanding. With twenty-four portraits, twenty-eight diagrams and over two hundred music cuts. What Educators have said regarding Professor Hamilton's =Sumner Salter=, _Director of Music_, Williams College: "I am convinced of the skill and thoroughness of treatment and of the far reaching practical value of the work." =Walter H. Aiken=, _Director of Music_, Cincinnati, Ohio: "One of the best, in my opinion, of anything thus far in print leading to music appreciation through music analysis: telling the pupil what to study and how." =Arthur Foote=, Boston, Mass. "The scheme is a new one and seems to me of much practical value. The analyses are lucid and just the thing to teach the pupil how to think and work out such matters for himself." =H. D. Sleeper=, _Professor of Music_, Smith College: "Capitally planned and carried out to meet a very definite need--the awakening of intelligence regarding good music in the minds of young people of high school and college age." =Joseph N. Ashton=, _Director of Music_, Abbott Academy, Andover, Mass., formerly Professor of Music, Brown University: "An admirable book. The music selected as a basis of study is such as the student would be expected to be acquainted with. The scheme avoids on the one side mechanical dryness and on the other vague and valueless rhapsody. With this book sterile study is well-nigh impossible." =Mrs. Frank A. Seiberling=, _President_ National Federation of Music Clubs: "The book will be invaluable to use in music clubs as a means of getting a fundamental understanding of the history of music and the various forms of compositions. When	What body part does Turridu bite on Alfio before dueling?	Alfio's ear
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images But here's Page One: A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt. 165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of Disappearance: 3-22-97." The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women, young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. But before he can think it through, he hears: They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight. Mel rolls his eyes. They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally Mackelway nods, "Go ahead." Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled... She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits, its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo. Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another. He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville, stripped down to its primer. Time to work... Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details, their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, snaps off a few more shots. Then: She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar. Mackelway approaches, cautiously. He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to protect against prints. He opens the trunk. But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back. Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body, stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead. Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher... The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO, with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc. Mackelway and	What happens to Harold Speck in the diner?	He is asked a question by a man who makes him uncomfortable.
window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. this lab just swung open... And O'Ryan just bolted out. Fuck. He moves amidst shadow and noise: the chugging of engines, the humming, the wheezing, a slight vibration to the floor beneath us. He walks along the edge of Furnace #1... ...and is assaulted, from above. O'Ryan falls on him, knocking Mackelway hard into the sharp CORNER of that furnace, then down to the ground. Mackelway's gun skids across the floor. He wants to fight back... but suddenly he finds that his head is swimming. Something's on that gauze. The room is getting fuzzy. We see the belly of a furnace - flames, heat. Then our own BLOOD... (Mackelway's CHEST was torn open by the corner of that furnace.) Wait. Did we just see the glint of a KNIFE? O'Ryan is leaning over us, in utter control. Then O'Ryan's head turns, abruptly - at the sound of FOOTSTEPS. And we hear: We turn, groggily. TWO JANITORS rush toward us, keys jangling. It's all foggy, wavy, distorted. We see O'Ryan RISE. Then everything goes black... Fran is here. So's Charlton. Mackelway tries to sit up. The shock of pain from his chest stops him. Mackelway half-nods. His chest is bandaged. That was terse. Charlton looks pretty pissed-off. The truth? Charlton has him pegged. But: Hold it. That was a major exaggeration, if not an outright lie. Mackelway eyes her, thrown. She's poker-faced. Charlton, however, seems unmoved... Mackelway can do nothing but nod. Then, bailing him out, another COMPOSITE ARTIST enters, tools in hand. Charlton sighs, frustrated. Composite Artist is ready to begin... We move along the pews, until we came to the very back row... There, one man sits. Alone. Quiet. O'Ryan. Odd expression on his face - it's as if he can't hear this rousing music, or feel the power	What is odd about the way Harold is found dead?	His eyelids are cut off and he is found clutching a circular symbol.
window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that rear-view, catches a glimpse of a LATEX GLOVE snapping onto a hand. Dear God: O'Ryan is back there, making that odd Ghost-Town wind sound. Whistling. No reply. Instead, another gift appears from the back: a FOURTH DRAWING, tossed from the darkness into Speck's lap. He looks down, registers the image... and SHRIEKS. O'Ryan rises into frame now, like Nosferatu... Speck finds the off-ramp. His breaths are shallow now. O'Ryan's face: a knowing grin fans across it... THOMAS MACKELWAY stares at Starkey's image. At the eyes... Mackelway is 34, bred for success - bred for stardom in fact, a whiz at everything he's ever attempted. So what the hell is he doing in Wichita Falls, Texas...? EIGHT AGENTS, in cubicles, with a ring of outer offices. Quiet phones, lousy take-out options, hardly a dream gig. That's RICK CHARLTON: late 40's, thinning hair, friendly. Charlton heads around a corner. Mackelway follows. An abandoned SPORTS PAGE tells us about that World Series, so we must be mid-October. Charlton heads out. Mackelway throws a briefcase on to the desk, setting up his world: A framed picture of himself and his BROTHER, ages 10 and 15, on a childhood camping trip. Address book, coffee-warmer, calendar, a baseball covered with autographs. He opens up a drawer, and casually tosses two bottles of BUFFERIN into the back of it. ...but first grabs four tablets from one of the bottles, and throws them down his throat, as: Mackelway turns. BILL GRIEVES stands here, holding a white grease-stained paper-bag. Grieves is Mackelway's age, not quite as ambitious. But solid, decent. Grieves pulls out a greasy concoction that's wrapped up like a semi-burrito. Pure Texas. Tosses it to Mackelway: Grieves passes by with a faint smile, handing out lunch to a few other agents. Mackelway eyes the still-wrapped Frito Pie. stop, to deny its awful, inevitable conclusion. Two men, neither of them flinching... until O'Ryan nods - as if to say "Good-bye." ...more of that vision interrupts now: a gun, rising... O'Ryan rears back and swings that tire-iron right at Mackelway's head. Fran has no choice. She fires. O'Ryan is hit right between the shoulder blades. The tire-iron hits Mackelway in the shoulder. O'Ryan crumbles to the ground, landing face up. ...a body slumping to the ground. O'Ryan... Mackelway stands over him... Then he dies, eyes open. Mackelway looks to Fran... Mackelway sits nearby on a CURB, his shattered wrist is in a SLING. Up above, the CLOUDS have parted. Morning sun streaks through. No more rain. Fran sits beside him. At their feet, in the gutter of this service road, lies a discarded MILK CARTON, covered with dust. The face under the "Have You Seen Me?" is unknown to us. Kathleen is nearby, holding Charlie tight. Cops surround them. An UNMARKED SEDAN arrives. Charlton hurries out of it, making a bee-line for Mackelway. So he extends a hand to Fran. She takes it, rising to her feet. They leave Charlton behind... We PULL AWAY from them, craning up, taking in this expanse of tall wheat, TILTING UP to that morning sun. Delia's backyard is being torn up by a BACK-HOE. Looks like a war-zone: BODIES, wrapped in cloth, being exhumed from the ground. Dozens of them... But there's plenty of soil yet to be turned... Might be HUNDREDS unearthed by the time these guys are through. We...	Why was Mackleway suspended?	For beating a suspected serial killer, Raymond Starkley.
window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that credit. And those black pins, seen from a distance, form a pattern we weren't expecting - something that never quite took shape when the pins were yellow. Looks like a big black WAVE. And that's just what it is. 1,000 black dots conspiring to form the same exact shape that O'Ryan had painted onto the wall of his room - a massive wave of darkness, gathering strength. But this black wave is consuming America... Mackelway stares at it: awed, even a bit frightened. The thing seems vast, unstoppable... A black wave - pure malevolence, covering the states like a fog. One blue dot lies in its center: that blue pin, in the heart of Greenville, Texas. Then, piercing the silence: It's 3 a.m. What's this guy doing here? Charlton's at a loss... until Mackelway gestures to the table, where he has laid out O'Ryan's entire FBI File. Every memo, citation, letter, i.d. picture. 150 pages. Charlton eyes it, calmly. He's not going to let his jaw drop, not with Mackelway watching. So he just nods. Mackelway pauses. It's a depressing reality... A beat. Mackelway lets the silence hover. Charlton heads for the door. Charlton stops. Turns. Mackelway tosses over a few pages from O'Ryan's file. Charlton eyes the pages without comment. With that, he's gone - leaving Mackelway alone in here. Nothing to look at but that black wave... He hears Charlton, leaving the building. He slams another Vicoden, then hears a PHONE RING. Fuck it. He's not moving. Let Voice Mail get it. ...until he hears the sound of a FAX coming in. He rises. Follow him: But here's another face, another victim, with the customary HAVE YOU SEEN ME? across the top. A young African-American boy: "Lloyd Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10", Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville,	What do Mackleway and Kulok discover in their research?	The possibility that they may be investigating a super serial killer, responsible for deaths in all the states.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical,	Where does the information Mackleway recieve from the killer send him?	To Benjamin O'Ryan, who believes he is a former FBI agent.
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images his SHOULDER. A fat BANDAGE has been wrapped around it - covering up the source of that searing pain. Looks as though a nurse had tended to it. But this sure as hell isn't a hospital... Then, O'Ryan turns, facing us. Mackelway recoils without meaning to. But O'Ryan's demeanor has changed. That look of possessed malevolence - it's gone now. We can't imagine why. Mackelway pauses, rewinding that one. Mackelway is still bracing for torture, or at least combat. So he's a step behind. O'Ryan rises, crossing toward us. Even unbound, Mackelway is expecting another onslaught... But all O'Ryan does is drop a piece of paper onto Mackelway's lap. It's another DRAWING: of a RANCH-HOUSE, with a windmill in the background. Crude, but just specific enough. Mackelway's still too unwound to speak... Mackelway's starting to understand now. This was an act. An initiation. That stuns him... Mackelway eyes him - utter disbelief. O'Ryan smiles warmly - like a Drill Sergeant at the end of Basic: Sorry I was so hard on you but it had to be done... Can we shake on it? Instead, Mackelway simply EXPLODES: It is a blur, faster than a blur, but Mackelway rises with an animal roar, knocking O'Ryan flat on his back. Then Mackelway is upon him. All the helplessness, all the horror, the images of watching himself in that mirror, the sounds of his own uncontrollable sobbing... they ERUPT now into violence. It is an overwhelming force. O'Ryan can't begin to fight it off. Mackelway has one hand on O'Ryan's throat. The other hand comes down like a sledgehammer. One blow. Then another. The sounds coming out of Mackelway are savage, barely human. He's out of control. O'Ryan's eyes roll back. Mackelway now puts both hands around this fucker's throat. He's going to	Who does O'Ryan end up killing outside the bar?	Starkey, the serial killer Mackleway had put behind bars but was later released.
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front his SHOULDER. A fat BANDAGE has been wrapped around it - covering up the source of that searing pain. Looks as though a nurse had tended to it. But this sure as hell isn't a hospital... Then, O'Ryan turns, facing us. Mackelway recoils without meaning to. But O'Ryan's demeanor has changed. That look of possessed malevolence - it's gone now. We can't imagine why. Mackelway pauses, rewinding that one. Mackelway is still bracing for torture, or at least combat. So he's a step behind. O'Ryan rises, crossing toward us. Even unbound, Mackelway is expecting another onslaught... But all O'Ryan does is drop a piece of paper onto Mackelway's lap. It's another DRAWING: of a RANCH-HOUSE, with a windmill in the background. Crude, but just specific enough. Mackelway's still too unwound to speak... Mackelway's starting to understand now. This was an act. An initiation. That stuns him... Mackelway eyes him - utter disbelief. O'Ryan smiles warmly - like a Drill Sergeant at the end of Basic: Sorry I was so hard on you but it had to be done... Can we shake on it? Instead, Mackelway simply EXPLODES: It is a blur, faster than a blur, but Mackelway rises with an animal roar, knocking O'Ryan flat on his back. Then Mackelway is upon him. All the helplessness, all the horror, the images of watching himself in that mirror, the sounds of his own uncontrollable sobbing... they ERUPT now into violence. It is an overwhelming force. O'Ryan can't begin to fight it off. Mackelway has one hand on O'Ryan's throat. The other hand comes down like a sledgehammer. One blow. Then another. The sounds coming out of Mackelway are savage, barely human. He's out of control. O'Ryan's eyes roll back. Mackelway now puts both hands around this fucker's throat. He's going to and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images His leg presses up against the rod. But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's laughing at him. Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right. It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist and sending that gun flying into the wheat. Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him... ...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry... Fran gets the idea. She hurries over. Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find: O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand. Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned. O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left palm. That got Mackelway's attention. Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan. He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses. Then... From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS, approaching from a distance. Unit after unit. O'Ryan turns, studies him. ...and hands him the gun. Just like that. Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground. O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as: Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb... Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's neck. He crumbles, face down. Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right up against the back of O'Ryan's head. Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles. Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a relief. That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider. He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between them. That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the	What is unique about O'Ryan?	That he can see through the eyes of serial killers and uses that to hunt said killers.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front But here's Page One: A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt. 165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of Disappearance: 3-22-97." The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women, young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. But before he can think it through, he hears: They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight. Mel rolls his eyes. They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally Mackelway nods, "Go ahead." Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled... She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits, its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo. Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another. He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville, stripped down to its primer. Time to work... Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details, their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, snaps off a few more shots. Then: She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar. Mackelway approaches, cautiously. He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to protect against prints. He opens the trunk. But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back. Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body, stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead. Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher... The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO, with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc. Mackelway and	Who is the actual Suspect Zero serial killer?	A man who travels around the United States in a refrigerated truck kidnapping children.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that his SHOULDER. A fat BANDAGE has been wrapped around it - covering up the source of that searing pain. Looks as though a nurse had tended to it. But this sure as hell isn't a hospital... Then, O'Ryan turns, facing us. Mackelway recoils without meaning to. But O'Ryan's demeanor has changed. That look of possessed malevolence - it's gone now. We can't imagine why. Mackelway pauses, rewinding that one. Mackelway is still bracing for torture, or at least combat. So he's a step behind. O'Ryan rises, crossing toward us. Even unbound, Mackelway is expecting another onslaught... But all O'Ryan does is drop a piece of paper onto Mackelway's lap. It's another DRAWING: of a RANCH-HOUSE, with a windmill in the background. Crude, but just specific enough. Mackelway's still too unwound to speak... Mackelway's starting to understand now. This was an act. An initiation. That stuns him... Mackelway eyes him - utter disbelief. O'Ryan smiles warmly - like a Drill Sergeant at the end of Basic: Sorry I was so hard on you but it had to be done... Can we shake on it? Instead, Mackelway simply EXPLODES: It is a blur, faster than a blur, but Mackelway rises with an animal roar, knocking O'Ryan flat on his back. Then Mackelway is upon him. All the helplessness, all the horror, the images of watching himself in that mirror, the sounds of his own uncontrollable sobbing... they ERUPT now into violence. It is an overwhelming force. O'Ryan can't begin to fight it off. Mackelway has one hand on O'Ryan's throat. The other hand comes down like a sledgehammer. One blow. Then another. The sounds coming out of Mackelway are savage, barely human. He's out of control. O'Ryan's eyes roll back. Mackelway now puts both hands around this fucker's throat. He's going to	What happens to Mackleway at the carnival?	He chases a suspect, only to find it is the wrong person and is then captured by O'Ryan.
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes His leg presses up against the rod. But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's laughing at him. Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right. It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist and sending that gun flying into the wheat. Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him... ...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry... Fran gets the idea. She hurries over. Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find: O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand. Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned. O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left palm. That got Mackelway's attention. Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan. He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses. Then... From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS, approaching from a distance. Unit after unit. O'Ryan turns, studies him. ...and hands him the gun. Just like that. Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground. O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as: Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb... Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's neck. He crumbles, face down. Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right up against the back of O'Ryan's head. Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles. Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a relief. That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider. He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between them. That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the	Who shoots O'Ryan at Suspect zro's ranch?	Kulok, to protect him from hitting her partner.
and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes credit. And those black pins, seen from a distance, form a pattern we weren't expecting - something that never quite took shape when the pins were yellow. Looks like a big black WAVE. And that's just what it is. 1,000 black dots conspiring to form the same exact shape that O'Ryan had painted onto the wall of his room - a massive wave of darkness, gathering strength. But this black wave is consuming America... Mackelway stares at it: awed, even a bit frightened. The thing seems vast, unstoppable... A black wave - pure malevolence, covering the states like a fog. One blue dot lies in its center: that blue pin, in the heart of Greenville, Texas. Then, piercing the silence: It's 3 a.m. What's this guy doing here? Charlton's at a loss... until Mackelway gestures to the table, where he has laid out O'Ryan's entire FBI File. Every memo, citation, letter, i.d. picture. 150 pages. Charlton eyes it, calmly. He's not going to let his jaw drop, not with Mackelway watching. So he just nods. Mackelway pauses. It's a depressing reality... A beat. Mackelway lets the silence hover. Charlton heads for the door. Charlton stops. Turns. Mackelway tosses over a few pages from O'Ryan's file. Charlton eyes the pages without comment. With that, he's gone - leaving Mackelway alone in here. Nothing to look at but that black wave... He hears Charlton, leaving the building. He slams another Vicoden, then hears a PHONE RING. Fuck it. He's not moving. Let Voice Mail get it. ...until he hears the sound of a FAX coming in. He rises. Follow him: But here's another face, another victim, with the customary HAVE YOU SEEN ME? across the top. A young African-American boy: "Lloyd Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10", Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville, rear-view, catches a glimpse of a LATEX GLOVE snapping onto a hand. Dear God: O'Ryan is back there, making that odd Ghost-Town wind sound. Whistling. No reply. Instead, another gift appears from the back: a FOURTH DRAWING, tossed from the darkness into Speck's lap. He looks down, registers the image... and SHRIEKS. O'Ryan rises into frame now, like Nosferatu... Speck finds the off-ramp. His breaths are shallow now. O'Ryan's face: a knowing grin fans across it... THOMAS MACKELWAY stares at Starkey's image. At the eyes... Mackelway is 34, bred for success - bred for stardom in fact, a whiz at everything he's ever attempted. So what the hell is he doing in Wichita Falls, Texas...? EIGHT AGENTS, in cubicles, with a ring of outer offices. Quiet phones, lousy take-out options, hardly a dream gig. That's RICK CHARLTON: late 40's, thinning hair, friendly. Charlton heads around a corner. Mackelway follows. An abandoned SPORTS PAGE tells us about that World Series, so we must be mid-October. Charlton heads out. Mackelway throws a briefcase on to the desk, setting up his world: A framed picture of himself and his BROTHER, ages 10 and 15, on a childhood camping trip. Address book, coffee-warmer, calendar, a baseball covered with autographs. He opens up a drawer, and casually tosses two bottles of BUFFERIN into the back of it. ...but first grabs four tablets from one of the bottles, and throws them down his throat, as: Mackelway turns. BILL GRIEVES stands here, holding a white grease-stained paper-bag. Grieves is Mackelway's age, not quite as ambitious. But solid, decent. Grieves pulls out a greasy concoction that's wrapped up like a semi-burrito. Pure Texas. Tosses it to Mackelway: Grieves passes by with a faint smile, handing out lunch to a few other agents. Mackelway eyes the still-wrapped Frito Pie.	What is Harold Speck's profession?	Travelling salesman
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive.	Who is found dead after they left the diner?	Harold Speck
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images His leg presses up against the rod. But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's laughing at him. Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right. It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist and sending that gun flying into the wheat. Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him... ...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry... Fran gets the idea. She hurries over. Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find: O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand. Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned. O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left palm. That got Mackelway's attention. Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan. He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses. Then... From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS, approaching from a distance. Unit after unit. O'Ryan turns, studies him. ...and hands him the gun. Just like that. Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground. O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as: Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb... Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's neck. He crumbles, face down. Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right up against the back of O'Ryan's head. Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles. Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a relief. That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider. He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between them. That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the	Who did Mackelway beat in the flashback sequence?	Raymond Starkey
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, stop, to deny its awful, inevitable conclusion. Two men, neither of them flinching... until O'Ryan nods - as if to say "Good-bye." ...more of that vision interrupts now: a gun, rising... O'Ryan rears back and swings that tire-iron right at Mackelway's head. Fran has no choice. She fires. O'Ryan is hit right between the shoulder blades. The tire-iron hits Mackelway in the shoulder. O'Ryan crumbles to the ground, landing face up. ...a body slumping to the ground. O'Ryan... Mackelway stands over him... Then he dies, eyes open. Mackelway looks to Fran... Mackelway sits nearby on a CURB, his shattered wrist is in a SLING. Up above, the CLOUDS have parted. Morning sun streaks through. No more rain. Fran sits beside him. At their feet, in the gutter of this service road, lies a discarded MILK CARTON, covered with dust. The face under the "Have You Seen Me?" is unknown to us. Kathleen is nearby, holding Charlie tight. Cops surround them. An UNMARKED SEDAN arrives. Charlton hurries out of it, making a bee-line for Mackelway. So he extends a hand to Fran. She takes it, rising to her feet. They leave Charlton behind... We PULL AWAY from them, craning up, taking in this expanse of tall wheat, TILTING UP to that morning sun. Delia's backyard is being torn up by a BACK-HOE. Looks like a war-zone: BODIES, wrapped in cloth, being exhumed from the ground. Dozens of them... But there's plenty of soil yet to be turned... Might be HUNDREDS unearthed by the time these guys are through. We... window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in But here's Page One: A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt. 165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of Disappearance: 3-22-97." The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women, young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. But before he can think it through, he hears: They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight. Mel rolls his eyes. They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally Mackelway nods, "Go ahead." Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled... She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits, its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo. Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another. He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville, stripped down to its primer. Time to work... Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details, their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, snaps off a few more shots. Then: She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar. Mackelway approaches, cautiously. He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to protect against prints. He opens the trunk. But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back. Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body, stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead. Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher... The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO, with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc. Mackelway and	What is the nickname given to the "super serial killer"?	Suspect Zero
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front	What body part does the killer always cut?	Eyelids
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, His leg presses up against the rod. But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's laughing at him. Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right. It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist and sending that gun flying into the wheat. Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him... ...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry... Fran gets the idea. She hurries over. Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find: O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand. Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned. O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left palm. That got Mackelway's attention. Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan. He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses. Then... From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS, approaching from a distance. Unit after unit. O'Ryan turns, studies him. ...and hands him the gun. Just like that. Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground. O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as: Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb... Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's neck. He crumbles, face down. Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right up against the back of O'Ryan's head. Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles. Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a relief. That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider. He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between them. That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the	What government experiment was O' Ryan part of?	Project Icarus
for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front	Who shares O' Ryan's special ability?	Mackelway
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, moment - wheeling around... He takes one last swing at Zero, like a lumberjack. The tire- iron impacts Zero's skull with a dull THUD, cracking it. He is dead. Mackelway's eyes go wide. Whole thing has been a blur. O'Ryan releases the tire-iron... and drops to his knees like a man awaiting execution, his back to Mackelway. Mackelway is silent. Stunned. The blood from Zero's caved-in skull finds its way to O'Ryan's knees. But O'Ryan remains peaceful. Calm. Ready. He puts a finger to his head, pretending it's a gun. Then he pretends to pull the trigger. Mackelway gets the idea. Mackelway doesn't know what to do. Then, making matters worse: She's about a hundred yards away... but she'll be here soon enough. That puts some heat under O'Ryan: She's 90 yards out now... Mackelway's frozen. O'Ryan knows it. O'Ryan rises now, facing Mackelway. He shoves Mackelway in the chest. She's 70 yards out now... 50 yards out now. Maybe close enough to hear O'Ryan's voice... Mackelway's not budging. O'Ryan can see that. O'Ryan keeps pursuing. Another swing. Mackelway keeps backing up. The swing misses. O'Ryan isn't letting up. And Mackelway can't quite fire. O'Ryan takes one more swing, as: There's Fran, emerging from the tall wheat, gun trained right on O'Ryan. His shock is total. O'Ryan doesn't move at first. Then, slowly, an ironic smile snakes its way across his lips. There it was: the very thing Mackelway's been hearing all this time, the exact words. Unsettling as hell. ...and we begin to INTERCUT: images of this moment with images from those "VISIONS" that have been hinting at this very wheatfield since Page One... Tall wheat, wet wind, O'Ryan's voice: "I'm begging you..." ...Mackelway snaps himself out of the vision. That was almost an attempt to make those images	Whose eyes does O' Ryan begin to see through?	Mackelway's
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive.	What vehicle does Suspect Zero use to travel around the United States?	Refrigerated truck
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical,	Where do O' Brian and Mackelway finally find Suspect Zero?	His ranch
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, credit. And those black pins, seen from a distance, form a pattern we weren't expecting - something that never quite took shape when the pins were yellow. Looks like a big black WAVE. And that's just what it is. 1,000 black dots conspiring to form the same exact shape that O'Ryan had painted onto the wall of his room - a massive wave of darkness, gathering strength. But this black wave is consuming America... Mackelway stares at it: awed, even a bit frightened. The thing seems vast, unstoppable... A black wave - pure malevolence, covering the states like a fog. One blue dot lies in its center: that blue pin, in the heart of Greenville, Texas. Then, piercing the silence: It's 3 a.m. What's this guy doing here? Charlton's at a loss... until Mackelway gestures to the table, where he has laid out O'Ryan's entire FBI File. Every memo, citation, letter, i.d. picture. 150 pages. Charlton eyes it, calmly. He's not going to let his jaw drop, not with Mackelway watching. So he just nods. Mackelway pauses. It's a depressing reality... A beat. Mackelway lets the silence hover. Charlton heads for the door. Charlton stops. Turns. Mackelway tosses over a few pages from O'Ryan's file. Charlton eyes the pages without comment. With that, he's gone - leaving Mackelway alone in here. Nothing to look at but that black wave... He hears Charlton, leaving the building. He slams another Vicoden, then hears a PHONE RING. Fuck it. He's not moving. Let Voice Mail get it. ...until he hears the sound of a FAX coming in. He rises. Follow him: But here's another face, another victim, with the customary HAVE YOU SEEN ME? across the top. A young African-American boy: "Lloyd Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10", Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville, But here's Page One: A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt. 165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of Disappearance: 3-22-97." The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women, young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. But before he can think it through, he hears: They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight. Mel rolls his eyes. They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally Mackelway nods, "Go ahead." Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled... She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits, its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo. Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another. He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville, stripped down to its primer. Time to work... Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details, their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, snaps off a few more shots. Then: She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar. Mackelway approaches, cautiously. He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to protect against prints. He opens the trunk. But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back. Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body, stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead. Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher... The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO, with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc. Mackelway and	Where was the child in the truck trailer kidnapped from?	A swing.
kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive.	Who kills Suspect Zero?	Mackelway.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive.	What does Suspect Zero travel in?	A refrigerated truck.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes	Where does Suspect Zero take his victims?	To a ranch.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical,	How does Mackelway realize the victims are transported in a refrigerator?	The victims have freezer burns.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes	Who can see the actions of serial killers?	O'Ryan.
window, the leaky ceiling, the bucket, the peeling paint. This room is heaving with energy... He sits on the bed, checks his watch. 9:05 p.m. He holds the point of his pen down upon one of them, as if receiving information from it, and we jump back into: Mackelway rises, approaching that re-painted wall. He pulls out his keys. Checks to see that no one's watching. A faint shape becomes visible, just beneath the white paint. Then it vanishes again. Using his keys, he begins to scratch away at the white paint. It's an irrational thing to do - but in the context of the last few days it makes an odd kind of sense. Instantly, a hint of BLACK can be seen underneath... The door to this room just SHUT; someone outside must've pushed it. He keeps scratching at the paint. There is indeed an image beneath that thin coat of white paint. It is the shape of a vast, black WAVE. A hand-painted image as large as this wall itself. Mackelway seems tiny by comparison, and the mere inch of black that he has uncovered so far seems infinitesimal. In fact, it almost look as if the wave is poised to swallow him whole... and he can't even see it. But we can. Must've taken O'Ryan days to paint something this large. A vast, black wave. Evil itself... And Mackelway, without meaning to, is about to unleash it. But he and Mackelway, on some unspoken psychic level, are feeding one another... Then we're beneath that thin coat of white, and: And it is MOVING. Alive. We hear the SOUNDS of it: a sucking, a yawning, as if a tide were drawing back just before exploding forward. The sounds blend in with the wind, the rain, the drops in a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. kill him - right here. He's going to squeeze the life from him. This is a Mackelway we've never met before. His eyes are wild, hateful - even as the last gasps of breath rasp their way out of O'Ryan's throat. Then Mackelway is distracted, for just a second. No. Less than a second... by a glimpse of that SHATTERED MIRROR - his own twisted image. He looks away from it, refusing to be distracted, determined to kill this guy. ...then those eyes drift back to the mirror again. ...and he sees his reflection: a hardened, crazed stranger. An animal. O'Ryan gasps for air. His face has been bloodied. Mackelway rises, disgusted, removing a great weight from O'Ryan's chest. That makes breathing a little easier. Mackelway crosses to a tiny, cheap BATHROOM. He tugs at it - doesn't unravel it, just yanks it off his arm - revealing a hideous wound. Now everything clicks: O'Ryan was branding him. Initiating him with that red-hot knife. Mackelway stares at the wound, his eyes lifeless. He splashes some water on his face, his mind still reeling. Then O'Ryan appears in the doorway. He too looks like hell - face bloodied, throat red, eyes watering. A long beat... Mackelway eyes him, incredulous. O'Ryan nods, then places that DRAWING of the Ranch-House on the sink. Mackelway eyes it. Then O'Ryan stuns him... by laying Mackelway's GUN atop the drawing, without a word. Mackelway eyes the gun, then grabs it and points it right at O'Ryan's face, just inches away. We're TIGHT on Mackelway's hand. It trembles with rage. But O'Ryan, looking right down the barrel, seems unafraid. In fact he smiles, utterly confident. Then: He eases Mackelway's hand down, thus lowering the gun. Then O'Ryan turns, grabs Mackelway's car keys, and heads for the front shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical,	What did Harold have cut off him?	His eyelids.
a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: Loca" audible through an open bedroom window. But no one's coming to answer the door, and it's wide open anyway... So Mackelway enters. Piper doesn't look up, or acknowledge Mackelway at all. Rather he INCREASES THE TV VOLUME to drown out the singing upstairs, which seems to be intentionally off-key. Torn couches, stained carpet, cracked window. Posters and fliers on the walls. 10 BEDROOMS upstairs. Mackelway turns. Descending a creaking stairway is DAVID DYSON: 50, lean, with a friendly smile. 1,000 of them, in bright red paint, against pitch black enamel. Only a machine could have achieved this kind of repetition. Or a maniac. This basement is leaky, drafty, poorly lit. But it's also quiet: the sound of that awful singing upstairs has been MUTED by the basement door and the rain itself. Mackelway takes it all in, every corner of this basement. He notes a row of standing GYM LOCKERS. Dyson shrugs; he thinks it's a waste of time - but he'll do it. Mackelway follows him across the dank room. Dyson works a combination lock on the first locker. Dyson half-chuckles; he always liked the guy... He throws open the locker. Inside, nothing. Mackelway indicates the next locker. Dyson works the combination. Locker #2 is opened - also empty. Only one locker left. Mackelway shrugs: "Sorry, it has to be opened." Dyson sighs, then works the combination. Mackelway waits. Locker #3 is opened. Inside, nothing incriminating: a sweater, some old junk, two trophies. Dyson eyes him: "See?" Mackelway nods. Dyson shuts the locker. Dyson heads for the stairs. They're wooden slats with more basement-junk stored below: old sporting equipment, an old vaccuum cleaner, broken chairs, rusted patio furniture. Mackelway follows. They climb... Sure enough, that bucket once held red paint - same color O'Ryan used to cover that His leg presses up against the rod. But it's nothing. He sighs. The wheat almost sounds like it's laughing at him. Then that TIRE IRON lashes out, from the right. It catches Mackelway with horrific force, shattering his wrist and sending that gun flying into the wheat. Before Mackelway can react, Zero is upon him... ...just as the Ranger brings Charlie out of the rig. The kid is shaking, traumatized. He begins to cry... Fran gets the idea. She hurries over. Zero freezes. Mackelway too. They turn to find: O'Ryan... who stands here, Mackelway's gun in hand. Mackelway's relief is total. He pushes Zero away, rising. Zero pulls himself off the ground, chagrinned. O'Ryan, without ceremony, puts a bullet through Zero's left palm. That got Mackelway's attention. Zero howls with pain, his palm gushing. The TIRE-IRON falls to the ground. Mackelway approaches O'Ryan. He extends his good hand to O'Ryan: "The gun." O'Ryan pauses. Then... From that service road now, we hear a line of SIRENS, approaching from a distance. Unit after unit. O'Ryan turns, studies him. ...and hands him the gun. Just like that. Mackelway eyes it. O'Ryan doesn't say a word, just crosses back to Zero, and grabs that TIRE-IRON off the ground. O'Ryan's now standing right behind Zero, as: Mackelway tightens. His head just began to throb... Another swing of that tire-iron, across the back of Zero's neck. He crumbles, face down. Fuck it. Mackelway crosses to O'Ryan and puts that gun right up against the back of O'Ryan's head. Then, an odd thing... O'Ryan simply smiles. Something about having that gun pointed right at him - it's a relief. That's something Mackelway doesn't want to consider. He turns. They are face to face. Nothing but that gun between them. That threw Mackelway badly. O'Ryan seizes the rear-view, catches a glimpse of a LATEX GLOVE snapping onto a hand. Dear God: O'Ryan is back there, making that odd Ghost-Town wind sound. Whistling. No reply. Instead, another gift appears from the back: a FOURTH DRAWING, tossed from the darkness into Speck's lap. He looks down, registers the image... and SHRIEKS. O'Ryan rises into frame now, like Nosferatu... Speck finds the off-ramp. His breaths are shallow now. O'Ryan's face: a knowing grin fans across it... THOMAS MACKELWAY stares at Starkey's image. At the eyes... Mackelway is 34, bred for success - bred for stardom in fact, a whiz at everything he's ever attempted. So what the hell is he doing in Wichita Falls, Texas...? EIGHT AGENTS, in cubicles, with a ring of outer offices. Quiet phones, lousy take-out options, hardly a dream gig. That's RICK CHARLTON: late 40's, thinning hair, friendly. Charlton heads around a corner. Mackelway follows. An abandoned SPORTS PAGE tells us about that World Series, so we must be mid-October. Charlton heads out. Mackelway throws a briefcase on to the desk, setting up his world: A framed picture of himself and his BROTHER, ages 10 and 15, on a childhood camping trip. Address book, coffee-warmer, calendar, a baseball covered with autographs. He opens up a drawer, and casually tosses two bottles of BUFFERIN into the back of it. ...but first grabs four tablets from one of the bottles, and throws them down his throat, as: Mackelway turns. BILL GRIEVES stands here, holding a white grease-stained paper-bag. Grieves is Mackelway's age, not quite as ambitious. But solid, decent. Grieves pulls out a greasy concoction that's wrapped up like a semi-burrito. Pure Texas. Tosses it to Mackelway: Grieves passes by with a faint smile, handing out lunch to a few other agents. Mackelway eyes the still-wrapped Frito Pie.	Why did Mackelway receive a six month suspension?	He beat a serial killer.
that bucket... Evil itself, on the move, gathering might. And we're along for the ride... The wave begins to roll forward now as if shot from a cannon. It is massive, powerful, dark. And we're right on its forward edge, as if surfing it somehow. ...which is when we hear the laughter of a LITTLE BOY. Like an old tv slowly gaining reception, the image takes a moment to crystallize before us. But then it sharpens: We're in the PLAY AREA of a TRUCK-STOP DINER, but it feels like we're looking at it through a broken lens. The images appear SPHERICAL to us, surrounded by darkness. Before us a 5-year old plays on a swing. Call him CHARLIE. Kathleen has her back turned to us, because she's busy diapering her nine month-old BABY at a table. We whip around for another look at Kathleen. She's still busy with that diaper. Then we look back to Charlie. Then, ANOTHER SOUND bleeds in. The BANGING of the Diner's back door, which leads on to that Play Area. And we hear a horrified yell: The sound begins to break up as if on a bad radio, being taken over by the sounds of that awful WAVE... He rises, hurrying into a tiny bathroom. We STAY ON THAT WRITING PAD, trying to decipher these lines and squiggles - the ideograms - as we hear the sounds of O'Ryan, retching. A vast black wave. It fills the whole wall... Mackelway eyes his watch. It's one o'clock in the morning. He's been in here for four hours. That seems impossible. ...Mackelway's face, as he backs away from that huge map. He eyes the map... which has now been stuck with over 1,000 BLACK PINS, one for each city with a HAVE YOU SEEN ME to its shots... Heading for the Conference Room, he nearly bumps into Katie, the Receptionist, rounding a corner. She smiles. He carries the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's into: On one wall is the MAP Mackelway took from Hope House: over a thousand CITIES circled by O'Ryan himself. Mackelway puts down the stack of HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. Picks up a box of YELLOW STICK-PINS, affixing them to the map - one for every faxed face. Here's "Jason Corey, Age 14." Last seen in "Riverside, Ca." on <b> "10-16-99." </b> Sure enough, O'Ryan had circled "Riverside, Ca." on this map. Next to it he'd written "10-16." Mackelway sticks a yellow pin in Riverside. Next, the fax concerning "Anna Casitas, Age 22." Last Seen? "Macon, Ga." on "5-6-00." Mackelway continues, as: Mackelway turns. In comes Fran. Mackelway nods. Then they both turn... Charlton enters the room. Charlton approaches the map: 1,242 cities, circled in red. Mackelway continues with the yellow pins: one for every HAVE YOU SEEN ME? (45 of them so far.) Charlton eyes the stack. 45 HAVE YOU SEEN ME's... Then the map: 1,242 cities. Each with a DATE beside it. (Mackelway has put a yellow pin beside a dozen cities... but tiny Greenville, Texas has a BLUE PIN beside it.) On the MAP, Dayton's got "4/12" written beside it. Trenton has "1/5." Both have yellow pins in them. Charlton looks to the table, where AUTOPSY REPORTS and AUTOPSY PHOTOS sit - two victims we've never seen before. We see the VICTIMS photographed face up, face down, waist and above, waist and below. Charlton gives the photos a cursory glance, nothing more. But we notice something, on one of the bodies: the male from Trenton - an odd BURN MARK on his lower left calf. Looks almost symmetrical, and awake, strains to look out the busted windshield. What he sees is hard to discern - but it looks like Zero's rig is lying flat on its side. And, of course, he is mere yards from that wheat field... Mackelway's watching. O'Ryan, who blacked out for a second now opens his eyes, getting the picture in a hurry. Zero leaps to the ground, rolls, and rises. Only thing in his hand is a TIRE IRON. Carrying it, he sprints into the wheat field - vanishing. Mackelway bursts out of the Yukon, in pursuit. O'Ryan's door is stuck. Mackelway doesn't stop to help him - just barrels across the street. STATE RANGER hurries out of his squad car. Mackelway sprints into the tall wheat. O'Ryan, with a grunt, gets his door open. Now he too disappears into that Wheat Field. ...except he's been here before. He's seen it. And there is a feeling of inevitability to all this; it's haunting. He's practically blind in here. Can't see five feet in front of him. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. That, too, was presaged. Those visions... O'Ryan is running nearby, but they can't see or hear one another. Then the Ranger spots, in the back of the van, a FALSE-WALL that used to hide a secret compartment. The crash has collapsed part of the false-wall. Frozen air blows out in wisps. He climbs over those carcasses, fast as he can... Then, another sound, up ahead. Sounds like the noise of someone stumbling. Mackelway stops. Listens. Silence. The sound does not repeat itself. He continues along, step by cautious step now. First thing we see is a REFRIGERATION ROD, the one that was responsible for those freezer burns. Then we see Charlie, bound. He's trembling with cold, but he's alive. horizontal across the calf... Charlton, frustrated, SHOVES THOSE AUTOPSY PHOTOS ASIDE. We look to that MAP, a handful of yellow pins in it... (Some of the HAVE YOU SEEN ME's have arrived via U.S. MAIL. We see a stack of ENVELOPES in a box, each sealed in PLASTIC, each stamped and addressed to Mackelway.) Mackelway eyes the map, puzzling. Fran's right beside him. Assorted papers and leads fill this room, including photos he took himself with that Minox. Mackelway's been asking himself that same question lately. PHONE RINGS. She grabs it. She hears the answer, then covers the phone. She hands him the phone... Air can be heard, moving through the corridor. But he has found the right number, at last. A tiny CARD fastened to a wall reads, "Dr. Emile Daitz, Professor Emeritus, Criminal Psychology." It also lists his office hours. Mackelway knocks at a door. Mackelway opens the door. Looks inside. Here sits O'Ryan, looking as much like a tweedy professor as he can look. He rises, smiles warmly. There's a COLLECTION here in a glass case: ANCIENT WEAPONS - crude knives, swords, blow-darts. Mackelway notes them. Mackelway looks over Daitz' bookshelf: volume after volume about evil, the devil, the minds of sociopaths, the history of serial-killers, ritual killers, tribal rites... Mackelway pauses, considering that. Mackelway is silent: Something's off here. But he can't say for sure just yet what it is... That wasn't just the echo of a question he's heard before; it was a red flag. A big one. Mackelway tightens. Mackelway eyes those books on evil, then those ancient weapons... Casually, almost imperceptibly, he reaches for his sidearm, as O'Ryan continues: The more he talks, the closer Mackelway comes to extracting that gun... Then, disturbing the silence, a KNOCK at the door. O'Ryan rises, goes But here's Page One: A photo of a middle-aged African-American WOMAN. Across the top of the photo, in hand-writing: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?" And typed on the bottom: "Tanya Green. Age 42. Ht. 5'9", Wt. 165, Eyes Blk, Hair Blk. Last Seen: Ames, Iowa. Date of Disappearance: 3-22-97." The following four sheets bring four more faces: men, women, young, old. Four more HAVE YOU SEEN ME's. But before he can think it through, he hears: They turn. That came from the NIGHT MANAGER: a humorless guy named LES. He's looking at the front door, through which Dolly has just entered. Pink cowboy boots tonight. Mel rolls his eyes. They each stop short, waiting for the other to yield. Finally Mackelway nods, "Go ahead." Dolly pauses, her face scrunching a bit. Troubled... She gestures to the lot, where an old PONTIAC BONNEVILLE sits, its paint stripped down to the primer. Bingo. Fran and Mackelway eye it, then one another. He doesn't argue. They come to a stop at that Bonneville, stripped down to its primer. Time to work... Two agents, all instinct. We see them study things, details, their minds always churning... Mackelway pulls out his Minox, snaps off a few more shots. Then: She turns. Sure enough, the Bonneville's trunk is ajar. Mackelway approaches, cautiously. He doesn't have gloves on him, so he uses his jacket pocket to protect against prints. He opens the trunk. But this time, it's been carved into somebody's back. Mackelway stares. So does Fran. Before them lies a body, stripped to the waist: a chunky middle-aged MAN. Dead. Mackelway sighs. Things just got tougher... The lights are out, but that Coroner wears a FLUORESCENT HALO, with a MICROPHONE pinned to his gown. He speaks into it with a quiet monotone: anatomical terms, etc. Mackelway and	Who is initially suspected of being Suspect Zero?	O'Ryan.
for the passenger-side door. It's locked. Of course. And he can't shoot his way in. He looks to the kid inside: The Kid doesn't respond - just seems spooked. Shit... Mackelway looks into the heart of that crowd. Vic's still visible to us, but he won't be for long. Mackelway heads into the carnival. Running... because we just lost sight of Vic. Mackelway hurries through that ring of barbeques, upsetting a tray or two. Then he stops. There's the ferris wheel. Was that Vic on the other side of it? Mackelway takes off. ...runs smack into Benjamin O'Ryan. The shock is so total it takes each of them a moment to recover from it. But here he is. O'Ryan, five feet away. Mackelway's speechless, still trying to recalibrate himself. A second ago he was chasing a possible Zero. Now he's face to face with O'Ryan. And O'Ryan isn't running. In fact, he almost seems amused. Mackelway still hasn't spoken, until: ...which is when Mackelway realizes that he is standing right in front of Vic's rig. But he wasn't expecting what comes next: Vic has returned to the rig, with a WOMAN beside him. Turns out, she's his WIFE. Vic opens the passenger-side door, unclasps that five year-old kid from his seat. The kid dives into the Woman's arms. Mother hugs son... which means that Mackelway has misread things, badly. And O'Ryan is a witness to it - hence the grin. O'Ryan raises his hands. Mackelway reaches for his cuffs. Mackelway continues to dial. That rang a bell. Mackelway, disgusted, pulls out of the lot. Mackelway pulls the car over, under an I-30 overpass... and out comes his gun, pointed right at O'Ryan's forehead. O'Ryan can't help it. He's pleased. Silence... Then that CEL-PHONE rings. Must be Fran. Mackelway eyes him: a bottle of PRESCRIPTION PILLS. Percodan. He slugs one down without water, his eyes never straying from that map. Beside it is a COMPOSITE DRAWING from O'Ryan, taken from Mackelway's description. It's dead-on... It's Katie, the receptionist from his office - sitting by herself in a nearby booth. Mackelway smiles. And candles. Lots of candles. They throw SHADOWS of Mackelway and Katie all over the walls. An odd MUSIC fills the room, coming from a BOOM-BOX on the floor. It's a rhythmic Navajo CHANT, with Native-American drums providing the pulse. First time we've seen him shirtless since his injury in that furnace room. A FAT BANDAGE covers a quarter of his chest. Dried blood can be seen beneath it. There's an intensity in his eyes. The chanting, the candles, Katie's body, his wound... they've conspired to bring an intensity into his eyes. It's dark, primal. And he's been expressing it for an hour without relent... which is why Katie gasps one last gasp, then rolls to the edge of the bed, exhausted. She reaches for that boom-box, lowers the volume. The chanting dies down into silence. She catches her breath. Mackelway eyes her, then reaches past her, and turns the VOLUME on that boom-box back UP. The chanting fills the room again. And just like that, he has pulled her back onto him, urgently. That primal side hasn't been sated yet... He pulls the bandage off, giving us a better look at the deep gash. Dried blood, torn skin, bruising. Looks like hell. But Mackelway eyes it calmly. He slugs down some beer from a nearby bottle, then cleans the wound with some Hydrogen Peroxide... as Katie appears in the doorway. She eyes him. He shrugs, turns. She shrugs. Silence hovers... Then his eyes SNAP OPEN. Something just hit him, credit. And those black pins, seen from a distance, form a pattern we weren't expecting - something that never quite took shape when the pins were yellow. Looks like a big black WAVE. And that's just what it is. 1,000 black dots conspiring to form the same exact shape that O'Ryan had painted onto the wall of his room - a massive wave of darkness, gathering strength. But this black wave is consuming America... Mackelway stares at it: awed, even a bit frightened. The thing seems vast, unstoppable... A black wave - pure malevolence, covering the states like a fog. One blue dot lies in its center: that blue pin, in the heart of Greenville, Texas. Then, piercing the silence: It's 3 a.m. What's this guy doing here? Charlton's at a loss... until Mackelway gestures to the table, where he has laid out O'Ryan's entire FBI File. Every memo, citation, letter, i.d. picture. 150 pages. Charlton eyes it, calmly. He's not going to let his jaw drop, not with Mackelway watching. So he just nods. Mackelway pauses. It's a depressing reality... A beat. Mackelway lets the silence hover. Charlton heads for the door. Charlton stops. Turns. Mackelway tosses over a few pages from O'Ryan's file. Charlton eyes the pages without comment. With that, he's gone - leaving Mackelway alone in here. Nothing to look at but that black wave... He hears Charlton, leaving the building. He slams another Vicoden, then hears a PHONE RING. Fuck it. He's not moving. Let Voice Mail get it. ...until he hears the sound of a FAX coming in. He rises. Follow him: But here's another face, another victim, with the customary HAVE YOU SEEN ME? across the top. A young African-American boy: "Lloyd Simms, Age 9. Ht. 4'10", Wt. 67 lbs. Last Seen: Greenville, his SHOULDER. A fat BANDAGE has been wrapped around it - covering up the source of that searing pain. Looks as though a nurse had tended to it. But this sure as hell isn't a hospital... Then, O'Ryan turns, facing us. Mackelway recoils without meaning to. But O'Ryan's demeanor has changed. That look of possessed malevolence - it's gone now. We can't imagine why. Mackelway pauses, rewinding that one. Mackelway is still bracing for torture, or at least combat. So he's a step behind. O'Ryan rises, crossing toward us. Even unbound, Mackelway is expecting another onslaught... But all O'Ryan does is drop a piece of paper onto Mackelway's lap. It's another DRAWING: of a RANCH-HOUSE, with a windmill in the background. Crude, but just specific enough. Mackelway's still too unwound to speak... Mackelway's starting to understand now. This was an act. An initiation. That stuns him... Mackelway eyes him - utter disbelief. O'Ryan smiles warmly - like a Drill Sergeant at the end of Basic: Sorry I was so hard on you but it had to be done... Can we shake on it? Instead, Mackelway simply EXPLODES: It is a blur, faster than a blur, but Mackelway rises with an animal roar, knocking O'Ryan flat on his back. Then Mackelway is upon him. All the helplessness, all the horror, the images of watching himself in that mirror, the sounds of his own uncontrollable sobbing... they ERUPT now into violence. It is an overwhelming force. O'Ryan can't begin to fight it off. Mackelway has one hand on O'Ryan's throat. The other hand comes down like a sledgehammer. One blow. Then another. The sounds coming out of Mackelway are savage, barely human. He's out of control. O'Ryan's eyes roll back. Mackelway now puts both hands around this fucker's throat. He's going to rear-view, catches a glimpse of a LATEX GLOVE snapping onto a hand. Dear God: O'Ryan is back there, making that odd Ghost-Town wind sound. Whistling. No reply. Instead, another gift appears from the back: a FOURTH DRAWING, tossed from the darkness into Speck's lap. He looks down, registers the image... and SHRIEKS. O'Ryan rises into frame now, like Nosferatu... Speck finds the off-ramp. His breaths are shallow now. O'Ryan's face: a knowing grin fans across it... THOMAS MACKELWAY stares at Starkey's image. At the eyes... Mackelway is 34, bred for success - bred for stardom in fact, a whiz at everything he's ever attempted. So what the hell is he doing in Wichita Falls, Texas...? EIGHT AGENTS, in cubicles, with a ring of outer offices. Quiet phones, lousy take-out options, hardly a dream gig. That's RICK CHARLTON: late 40's, thinning hair, friendly. Charlton heads around a corner. Mackelway follows. An abandoned SPORTS PAGE tells us about that World Series, so we must be mid-October. Charlton heads out. Mackelway throws a briefcase on to the desk, setting up his world: A framed picture of himself and his BROTHER, ages 10 and 15, on a childhood camping trip. Address book, coffee-warmer, calendar, a baseball covered with autographs. He opens up a drawer, and casually tosses two bottles of BUFFERIN into the back of it. ...but first grabs four tablets from one of the bottles, and throws them down his throat, as: Mackelway turns. BILL GRIEVES stands here, holding a white grease-stained paper-bag. Grieves is Mackelway's age, not quite as ambitious. But solid, decent. Grieves pulls out a greasy concoction that's wrapped up like a semi-burrito. Pure Texas. Tosses it to Mackelway: Grieves passes by with a faint smile, handing out lunch to a few other agents. Mackelway eyes the still-wrapped Frito Pie.	What was Mackelway receiving with information?	a series of faxes
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard we see that it's BROKEN TUSK. The PREDATOR's good hand flashes down to his thigh, almost too quick to follow. In one rapid movement a circular 'smart-weapon' is brought up, slicing the front of the ALIEN skull away from it's head. In a feat of strength, the PREDATOR lifts his opponent's corpse on the end of the spear and hurls it over the catwalk railing... Not wasting a second, BROKEN TUSK performs an almost-vertical bound of some twenty feet with astounding grace. He grips a pipe running down the side of one of the building modules, then clambers over the roof's edge and finally disappears from view. BREWSTER continues to BARK frenetically. HIROKO's headset has been knocked to the floor and a FRANTIC MUTED VOICE is coming from it. She picks it up, and presses the 'transmit' switch. HIROKO (into headset) It's alright, Rob... HIROKO (CONT'D) (O.S., on speaker) Everything's under control. Wait a second. THOMAS shakes his head. GUTTIEREZ and DE VRIES race across the platform to join the stunned survivors of the skirmish. GUTTIEREZ bends down by DILLER's body. THOMAS lays a hand on GUTTIEREZ' arm. HIROKO thinks quickly, and comes to a decision. She speaks into her radio headset. KAMEN rubs his throat. He nods. BREWSTER's BARKS cease, replaced instead with a TERRIFIED LOW WHINING. GUTTIEREZ jogs over to BREWSTER. Lowers his rifle to the ground and fumbles with the knot tying the dog to the pipe. A spray of plastic shards EXPLODES not three feet away from GUTTIEREZ. The rifle goes skittering away out of reach, and he scrambles away as an ALIEN half-pulls itself out of the sewer overflow, wet and glistening... BREWSTER's a mass of fur, totally in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat.	What did Charles Bishop Weyland discover through thermal imaging?	a pyramid buried 2000 feet beneath the ice
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was a telltale vibration. The PREDATOR shuttlecraft lowers it's cloaking device, extending landing gear and a ramp. It touches down in the bayou with scarcely a whisper. HIROKO watches the PREDATORS file slowly out. BROKEN TUSK's body is borne aloft and carried back inside. The LEAD PREDATOR turns to HIROKO. He crosses to her. HIROKO's face is reflected in the faceted eyepieces of the PREDATOR's helmet. The extraterrestrial hunter pulls out his telescopic spear. KER-CHUNK! The tips lock into place. The PREDATOR offers it to HIROKO. She accepts, a little confused. There's a long moment. The PREDATOR is still standing there. Waiting. HIROKO's eyes narrow. Her mind is working furiously. What do they want? She realises. It suddenly becomes clear. She smiles. HIROKO glances back at the hovering DROPSHIPS, then walks around the waiting PREDATOR and into the shuttlecraft without looking back. The PREDATOR follows her. The ramp SLAMS closed, as we... in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. around. It leaps for her, and battle is joined. The ALIEN lashes out, but HIROKO counters by swinging the weapon time and time again. With each thrust, surgically thin wounds open up on the biomechanoid's body. One of the ALIEN's attacks sends her reeling to the floor, it's stinger arching towards her. She parries, slicing the tail in half and struggling to her feet. The ALIEN strikes again. HIROKO feints, then thrusts, lopping off one of it's hands. The ALIEN HOWLS with pain, blinding lashing out at her and sending the 'smart' weapon flying from her grip. She's lost, and the creature knows it. It's lips curl into a SNARL. KER-POW! KER-POW! The ALIEN's head DETONATES, and it's skeletal body slumps forward to SPLASH into the swamp...revealing BROKEN TUSK pointing the pulse rifle. The dying PREDATOR GURGLES, his head drooping. HIROKO stumbles across to him. BROKEN TUSK's in a bad way, green gore is pulsing freely from it's throat. It gazes up at HIROKO. And with that, the PREDATOR dies. HIROKO look around. The sun is rising above the treetops, and the setting is serene. Somehow beautiful. The speakers in the heli-jet cabin CRACKLE to life, jarring her. VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Rimward Tracking Station, this is the one thirty-second Rim Corp Battalion operating out of the cruiser Tartarus from Fort Powell. Please respond. Over. There's a sound O.S., like a THUNDERCLAP. HIROKO surveys the horizon. HIROKO's P.O.V. A pair of MARINE DROPSHIPS float above the distant rainforest, their weapons arms unfurled like exotic armed insects. Searchlights probe the ground far below. A shadow falls over HIROKO, blocking out the sun. A monstrous SHAPE occupies the air above, delineated only by	Why did the Predators use the heat bloom to attract humans?	to make new Aliens to hunt
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. Dark Horse Prod. Presents Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He hurries forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who has found something. The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered on the end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented tail; it's a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform. BROKEN TUSK HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling spears and elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma cannons slide up to firing position, tracking with their owners' helmets. Thus armed, they move cautiously ahead...taking no chances. One helmeted PREDATOR pauses, scanning the area. He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the skeletal ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical growth on the floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight through the neck, splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A gargled DEATH-RATTLE issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS spinning around in time to see him being dragged below the ground. The band of extraterrestrial hunters have no time to come to his aid; they themselves are set upon by a half-dozen ALIEN WARRIORS. The carnage is swift and terrifying, a blur of motion. Steel blades and serrated biomechanical limbs scythe the air, alive with the CRIES and HISSES of both adversaries. One PREDATOR is pinned against the tunnel wall, his spear out of range. The ALIEN claws away his face mask, and he finds himself dodging the ALIEN's toothed tongue, extended toward him with pile-driver speed. He reaches down, grasping the 'smart-weapon' hanging from his belt and brings it up LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her	What kind of weapon did one of the Predators kill an Alien and facehugger with?	a shuriken
revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With on the suit's sleeve. CASSIE pulls off hers and hands it over. DRISCOLL's watching HIROKO fasten up the suit. He spots a mistake. HIROKO finds the offending clasp and locks it. CASSIE and DRISCOLL exchange worried looks. HIROKO takes a deep breath. Beads of perspiration dot her forehead. PARSONS nods. PARSONS hands over a vinyl-wrapped packet. HIROKO slips it into a breast-pocket and secures the flap. DRISCOLL hands several metallic objects to HIROKO. They're magazines for her gun. She slots them into the bandolier. PARSONS (interrupting) No. There's two of them. She pulls on the zip and begins locking the harness clasps into place. YORK hands over a sophisticated-looking power-tool. YORK and DRISCOLL lower the massive dome-fronted helmet over HIROKO's head. Auto-clasps lock into place as it brackets with the collar. PARSONS clips the slimline air-tank to her back, and DRISCOLL makes the connections. CASSIE and the others hold their weapons and motion-trackers steadily at a fixed point on the ground. Two ONLOOKERS bend down to the pressure-hatch beneath the floor-grating. It's identical to the one DILLER and URIOSTE removed earlier. A plume of pressurised gas jets into the air, and they pull the metal sealing-plug free. CASSIE scrutinizes her tracker... HIROKO reaches up to her helmet and presses a chunky button on one side. HIROKO's P.O.V. We're looking through the transparent bowl of the helmet at the open shaft, braken water SLOSHING around it's rim. Superimposed lines of glowing neon appear on the visor's surface, a precisely overlaid duplication of the scene in computer-graphic form. A flatly- synthesised male COMPUTER VOICE comes over the helmet speakers, O.S. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Approaching 'A' module lower level venturiduct DS Oh-four... HIROKO gets down on dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits	Who did Alexa and Scar battle with after reaching the surface?	the Alien Queen
ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking Dark Horse Prod. Presents Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He hurries forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who has found something. The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered on the end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented tail; it's a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform. BROKEN TUSK HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling spears and elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma cannons slide up to firing position, tracking with their owners' helmets. Thus armed, they move cautiously ahead...taking no chances. One helmeted PREDATOR pauses, scanning the area. He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the skeletal ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical growth on the floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight through the neck, splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A gargled DEATH-RATTLE issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS spinning around in time to see him being dragged below the ground. The band of extraterrestrial hunters have no time to come to his aid; they themselves are set upon by a half-dozen ALIEN WARRIORS. The carnage is swift and terrifying, a blur of motion. Steel blades and serrated biomechanical limbs scythe the air, alive with the CRIES and HISSES of both adversaries. One PREDATOR is pinned against the tunnel wall, his spear out of range. The ALIEN claws away his face mask, and he finds himself dodging the ALIEN's toothed tongue, extended toward him with pile-driver speed. He reaches down, grasping the 'smart-weapon' hanging from his belt and brings it up	What did the Predators teach early human civilizations?	how to build pyramids
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat.	How often did the Predators visit the Earth?	every 100 years
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, out of control. When the ALIEN lashes out to grab the HOWLING animal, there's nothing GUTTIEREZ can do. BREWSTER's legs are the last thing we see, thrashing helplessly as she's dragged down into the splinter-edged gap. THOMAS grabs CALDWELL's rifle from the deck. He races towards GUTTIEREZ, with DE VRIES close behind... From behind comes the SOUND of more rupturing plastic as biomechanoid limbs struggle up out of newly-broken ducts. THOMAS heaves the rifle over the heads of the emerging ALIENS. Although GUTTIEREZ snags it awkwardly, he quickly turns the barrel on the relentless creatures. DE VRIES races up to join them, SCREAMING as she fires. KAMEN glances down at this tracker's tiny screen. It shows clusters of signals, lots of them. KAMEN (hollering) They're all around, they're in the drainage system! DE VRIES reacts swiftly, loosing a round of shots at the emerging ALIENS. GUTTIEREZ yells across to KAMEN. ALIENS are appearing everywhere. From the overflow ducts; over the platform edges; along overhead cable supports. Having taken on the genetic characteristics of their hosts, many of them are non-humanoid. All of them are living nightmares. DE VRIES' head turns. She sees the ALIEN and nails it with a rapid burst. It falls onto the concrete nearby, writhing in it's death throes. The group round the corner of a building. Across the street from them is parked KAMEN's crawler. They scramble up into the cab. GUTTIEREZ throws himself into the driver's seat. An ALIEN sprints at the crawler with bared teeth. THOMAS looses a shot, blasting it backward into a Pepsi sign. DE VRIES (to Guttierez) C'mon, man; punch this cow! GUTTIEREZ fumbles at the ignition. They keys are there. He power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat.	Which two people survived after Weyland was killed?	Alexa and Sebastian
Dark Horse Prod. Presents Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He hurries forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who has found something. The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered on the end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented tail; it's a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform. BROKEN TUSK HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling spears and elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma cannons slide up to firing position, tracking with their owners' helmets. Thus armed, they move cautiously ahead...taking no chances. One helmeted PREDATOR pauses, scanning the area. He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the skeletal ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical growth on the floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight through the neck, splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A gargled DEATH-RATTLE issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS spinning around in time to see him being dragged below the ground. The band of extraterrestrial hunters have no time to come to his aid; they themselves are set upon by a half-dozen ALIEN WARRIORS. The carnage is swift and terrifying, a blur of motion. Steel blades and serrated biomechanical limbs scythe the air, alive with the CRIES and HISSES of both adversaries. One PREDATOR is pinned against the tunnel wall, his spear out of range. The ALIEN claws away his face mask, and he finds himself dodging the ALIEN's toothed tongue, extended toward him with pile-driver speed. He reaches down, grasping the 'smart-weapon' hanging from his belt and brings it up spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features,	What does one of the Predators present to Alexa?	one of their spear weapons
the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was until the door slides shut behind him. DE VRIES pauses, listening to the sound from the surrounding forest. GUTTIEREZ cocks his head and listens. He has no idea what she means. GUTTIEREZ shivers in the wind as he looks out into the impenetrable blackness beyond the confines of the base. BREWSTER the dog stares in fascination at the rhinos through the meshwork fence of their pens. The animals move around in agitation. Not at her, but at something else... Indistinct inside their camouflage cloaks, the small group of PREDATORS wade carefully through the water towards the base of the installation. There's more NOISE. About a dozen fluorescent strips ringing the small circular chamber illuminate. Three others flicker erratically, one of them remaining unlit. DILLER waves the tracker cautiously around and keeps his pulse- rifle level. He enters, followed by URIOSTE. She's carrying a portable - but bulky - piece of machinery. DILLER (sarcastic) Yeah, eyestrain. What's with the lights? DILLER sweeps the tracker carefully around. The small screen registers nothing. URIOSTE pulls at a two-piece hexagonal grating set in the center of the floor. It's heavy and thick with grease, but she doesn't seem to mind. Below it is what looks like a round metal plug. Recessed into its surface is a lever next to a central pressure valve, with handholds on either side. She turns the lever. There's a loud CLUNK, and a plume of steam JETS out of the valve. GRUNTING, the two of them pull the thick metal plug clear of the pit. Murky water sloshes around below. URIOSTE pulls a second lever, and hidden pumps make the water level drop rapidly. Leaning against the wall behind DILLER is a sturdy metal tripod topped in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat.	Why did Alexa and Sebastian decide that the Predators should hunt?	so the Aliens don't reach the surface
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her Dark Horse Prod. Presents Several feet in from the rim, it changes from rock to a textured biomechanical surface; a swirling mass of disturbing shapes. He hurries forward in response to the GURGLING-HISS of one of his team who has found something. The other PREDATOR holds a telescopic spear up for scrutiny. Skewered on the end is a shriveled FORM with eight spindly legs and a segmented tail; it's a FACEHUGGER, the first stage of the deadly ALIEN lifeform. BROKEN TUSK HISSES a caution to his party; they respond by pulling spears and elaborately-shaped swords. Several shoulder-mounted plasma cannons slide up to firing position, tracking with their owners' helmets. Thus armed, they move cautiously ahead...taking no chances. One helmeted PREDATOR pauses, scanning the area. He's so pre-occupied with this task, he totally fails to notice the skeletal ALIEN loom up behind him, emerging from the biomechanical growth on the floor. A barbed tail skewers the PREDATOR straight through the neck, splashing luminous blood across his chestplate. A gargled DEATH-RATTLE issues from his throat, the band of PREDATORS spinning around in time to see him being dragged below the ground. The band of extraterrestrial hunters have no time to come to his aid; they themselves are set upon by a half-dozen ALIEN WARRIORS. The carnage is swift and terrifying, a blur of motion. Steel blades and serrated biomechanical limbs scythe the air, alive with the CRIES and HISSES of both adversaries. One PREDATOR is pinned against the tunnel wall, his spear out of range. The ALIEN claws away his face mask, and he finds himself dodging the ALIEN's toothed tongue, extended toward him with pile-driver speed. He reaches down, grasping the 'smart-weapon' hanging from his belt and brings it up power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features,	Why did the Predator give Alexa one of their weapons?	to recognize her warrior skills
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, we see that it's BROKEN TUSK. The PREDATOR's good hand flashes down to his thigh, almost too quick to follow. In one rapid movement a circular 'smart-weapon' is brought up, slicing the front of the ALIEN skull away from it's head. In a feat of strength, the PREDATOR lifts his opponent's corpse on the end of the spear and hurls it over the catwalk railing... Not wasting a second, BROKEN TUSK performs an almost-vertical bound of some twenty feet with astounding grace. He grips a pipe running down the side of one of the building modules, then clambers over the roof's edge and finally disappears from view. BREWSTER continues to BARK frenetically. HIROKO's headset has been knocked to the floor and a FRANTIC MUTED VOICE is coming from it. She picks it up, and presses the 'transmit' switch. HIROKO (into headset) It's alright, Rob... HIROKO (CONT'D) (O.S., on speaker) Everything's under control. Wait a second. THOMAS shakes his head. GUTTIEREZ and DE VRIES race across the platform to join the stunned survivors of the skirmish. GUTTIEREZ bends down by DILLER's body. THOMAS lays a hand on GUTTIEREZ' arm. HIROKO thinks quickly, and comes to a decision. She speaks into her radio headset. KAMEN rubs his throat. He nods. BREWSTER's BARKS cease, replaced instead with a TERRIFIED LOW WHINING. GUTTIEREZ jogs over to BREWSTER. Lowers his rifle to the ground and fumbles with the knot tying the dog to the pipe. A spray of plastic shards EXPLODES not three feet away from GUTTIEREZ. The rifle goes skittering away out of reach, and he scrambles away as an ALIEN half-pulls itself out of the sewer overflow, wet and glistening... BREWSTER's a mass of fur, totally NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. the chainsaw up. The blade slices into the creature's throat, and up through it's head. THOMAS draws out the chainsaw quickly. Something happens to the PITCH of the blade, a peculiar sound... The acid eats through the links of the chainsaw band. Like a metallic snake, it WHIPS off it's supporting frame. Straight at THOMAS. HIROKO'S P.O.V. Green neon flashes in her display, with accompanying notations. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Progress to secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven impeded. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry... HIROKO (into headset) Okay, I'm at the first access grate. CASSIE's VOICE is a little less clear now, with traces of STATIC drifting in... CASSIE (O.S., on speakers) Copy that. Be careful, now. She places the tip of her power-tool over the first of the grille's anchoring bolts. The complex mechanism WHINES as it selects the correct wrench-tip for the job... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Caution! Entering secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry to Central Reservoir... HIROKO (annoyed) Yeah, yeah, yeah... With difficulty, she straddles the floor turbine. A vortex of water swirls around her as she brings the power-tool up once more. CASSIE's all-business, immediately calling-up the base floor-plan files on a monitor. PARSONS (CONT'D) (into headset) Is Thomas gonna make it? GUTTIEREZ (O.S., on speakers) Uh...difficult to say. I think... A fragmented VOICE comes through on her headset, distorted beyond recognition. HIROKO's forehead knits together in concentration and annoyance. CLICK. CLICK. BEEP! The routine sound of the motion tracker changes suddenly. HIROKO turns her attention from the task-in-hand to study the tracker's helmet readout. THREE	What does Charles Bishop Weyland discover on an island off the coast of Antarctica?	A pyramid buried beneath 2,000 feet of ice.
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes we see that it's BROKEN TUSK. The PREDATOR's good hand flashes down to his thigh, almost too quick to follow. In one rapid movement a circular 'smart-weapon' is brought up, slicing the front of the ALIEN skull away from it's head. In a feat of strength, the PREDATOR lifts his opponent's corpse on the end of the spear and hurls it over the catwalk railing... Not wasting a second, BROKEN TUSK performs an almost-vertical bound of some twenty feet with astounding grace. He grips a pipe running down the side of one of the building modules, then clambers over the roof's edge and finally disappears from view. BREWSTER continues to BARK frenetically. HIROKO's headset has been knocked to the floor and a FRANTIC MUTED VOICE is coming from it. She picks it up, and presses the 'transmit' switch. HIROKO (into headset) It's alright, Rob... HIROKO (CONT'D) (O.S., on speaker) Everything's under control. Wait a second. THOMAS shakes his head. GUTTIEREZ and DE VRIES race across the platform to join the stunned survivors of the skirmish. GUTTIEREZ bends down by DILLER's body. THOMAS lays a hand on GUTTIEREZ' arm. HIROKO thinks quickly, and comes to a decision. She speaks into her radio headset. KAMEN rubs his throat. He nods. BREWSTER's BARKS cease, replaced instead with a TERRIFIED LOW WHINING. GUTTIEREZ jogs over to BREWSTER. Lowers his rifle to the ground and fumbles with the knot tying the dog to the pipe. A spray of plastic shards EXPLODES not three feet away from GUTTIEREZ. The rifle goes skittering away out of reach, and he scrambles away as an ALIEN half-pulls itself out of the sewer overflow, wet and glistening... BREWSTER's a mass of fur, totally	How does Weyland's group reach the pyramid beneath the ice?	By following a path that was created by a Predator ship.
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes the chainsaw up. The blade slices into the creature's throat, and up through it's head. THOMAS draws out the chainsaw quickly. Something happens to the PITCH of the blade, a peculiar sound... The acid eats through the links of the chainsaw band. Like a metallic snake, it WHIPS off it's supporting frame. Straight at THOMAS. HIROKO'S P.O.V. Green neon flashes in her display, with accompanying notations. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Progress to secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven impeded. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry... HIROKO (into headset) Okay, I'm at the first access grate. CASSIE's VOICE is a little less clear now, with traces of STATIC drifting in... CASSIE (O.S., on speakers) Copy that. Be careful, now. She places the tip of her power-tool over the first of the grille's anchoring bolts. The complex mechanism WHINES as it selects the correct wrench-tip for the job... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Caution! Entering secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry to Central Reservoir... HIROKO (annoyed) Yeah, yeah, yeah... With difficulty, she straddles the floor turbine. A vortex of water swirls around her as she brings the power-tool up once more. CASSIE's all-business, immediately calling-up the base floor-plan files on a monitor. PARSONS (CONT'D) (into headset) Is Thomas gonna make it? GUTTIEREZ (O.S., on speakers) Uh...difficult to say. I think... A fragmented VOICE comes through on her headset, distorted beyond recognition. HIROKO's forehead knits together in concentration and annoyance. CLICK. CLICK. BEEP! The routine sound of the motion tracker changes suddenly. HIROKO turns her attention from the task-in-hand to study the tracker's helmet readout. THREE in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. we see that it's BROKEN TUSK. The PREDATOR's good hand flashes down to his thigh, almost too quick to follow. In one rapid movement a circular 'smart-weapon' is brought up, slicing the front of the ALIEN skull away from it's head. In a feat of strength, the PREDATOR lifts his opponent's corpse on the end of the spear and hurls it over the catwalk railing... Not wasting a second, BROKEN TUSK performs an almost-vertical bound of some twenty feet with astounding grace. He grips a pipe running down the side of one of the building modules, then clambers over the roof's edge and finally disappears from view. BREWSTER continues to BARK frenetically. HIROKO's headset has been knocked to the floor and a FRANTIC MUTED VOICE is coming from it. She picks it up, and presses the 'transmit' switch. HIROKO (into headset) It's alright, Rob... HIROKO (CONT'D) (O.S., on speaker) Everything's under control. Wait a second. THOMAS shakes his head. GUTTIEREZ and DE VRIES race across the platform to join the stunned survivors of the skirmish. GUTTIEREZ bends down by DILLER's body. THOMAS lays a hand on GUTTIEREZ' arm. HIROKO thinks quickly, and comes to a decision. She speaks into her radio headset. KAMEN rubs his throat. He nods. BREWSTER's BARKS cease, replaced instead with a TERRIFIED LOW WHINING. GUTTIEREZ jogs over to BREWSTER. Lowers his rifle to the ground and fumbles with the knot tying the dog to the pipe. A spray of plastic shards EXPLODES not three feet away from GUTTIEREZ. The rifle goes skittering away out of reach, and he scrambles away as an ALIEN half-pulls itself out of the sewer overflow, wet and glistening... BREWSTER's a mass of fur, totally	What does the team first discover about the pyramid?	signs of ancient life
revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, out of control. When the ALIEN lashes out to grab the HOWLING animal, there's nothing GUTTIEREZ can do. BREWSTER's legs are the last thing we see, thrashing helplessly as she's dragged down into the splinter-edged gap. THOMAS grabs CALDWELL's rifle from the deck. He races towards GUTTIEREZ, with DE VRIES close behind... From behind comes the SOUND of more rupturing plastic as biomechanoid limbs struggle up out of newly-broken ducts. THOMAS heaves the rifle over the heads of the emerging ALIENS. Although GUTTIEREZ snags it awkwardly, he quickly turns the barrel on the relentless creatures. DE VRIES races up to join them, SCREAMING as she fires. KAMEN glances down at this tracker's tiny screen. It shows clusters of signals, lots of them. KAMEN (hollering) They're all around, they're in the drainage system! DE VRIES reacts swiftly, loosing a round of shots at the emerging ALIENS. GUTTIEREZ yells across to KAMEN. ALIENS are appearing everywhere. From the overflow ducts; over the platform edges; along overhead cable supports. Having taken on the genetic characteristics of their hosts, many of them are non-humanoid. All of them are living nightmares. DE VRIES' head turns. She sees the ALIEN and nails it with a rapid burst. It falls onto the concrete nearby, writhing in it's death throes. The group round the corner of a building. Across the street from them is parked KAMEN's crawler. They scramble up into the cab. GUTTIEREZ throws himself into the driver's seat. An ALIEN sprints at the crawler with bared teeth. THOMAS looses a shot, blasting it backward into a Pepsi sign. DE VRIES (to Guttierez) C'mon, man; punch this cow! GUTTIEREZ fumbles at the ignition. They keys are there. He to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features,	What happens when the Alien Queen is awoken?	She begins to produce eggs.
revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes	What happens when a human is attacked by a facehugger?	The facehugger attaches itself to the human's face, and then a Chestburster emerges from the chest and becomes and adult Alien.
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, out of control. When the ALIEN lashes out to grab the HOWLING animal, there's nothing GUTTIEREZ can do. BREWSTER's legs are the last thing we see, thrashing helplessly as she's dragged down into the splinter-edged gap. THOMAS grabs CALDWELL's rifle from the deck. He races towards GUTTIEREZ, with DE VRIES close behind... From behind comes the SOUND of more rupturing plastic as biomechanoid limbs struggle up out of newly-broken ducts. THOMAS heaves the rifle over the heads of the emerging ALIENS. Although GUTTIEREZ snags it awkwardly, he quickly turns the barrel on the relentless creatures. DE VRIES races up to join them, SCREAMING as she fires. KAMEN glances down at this tracker's tiny screen. It shows clusters of signals, lots of them. KAMEN (hollering) They're all around, they're in the drainage system! DE VRIES reacts swiftly, loosing a round of shots at the emerging ALIENS. GUTTIEREZ yells across to KAMEN. ALIENS are appearing everywhere. From the overflow ducts; over the platform edges; along overhead cable supports. Having taken on the genetic characteristics of their hosts, many of them are non-humanoid. All of them are living nightmares. DE VRIES' head turns. She sees the ALIEN and nails it with a rapid burst. It falls onto the concrete nearby, writhing in it's death throes. The group round the corner of a building. Across the street from them is parked KAMEN's crawler. They scramble up into the cab. GUTTIEREZ throws himself into the driver's seat. An ALIEN sprints at the crawler with bared teeth. THOMAS looses a shot, blasting it backward into a Pepsi sign. DE VRIES (to Guttierez) C'mon, man; punch this cow! GUTTIEREZ fumbles at the ignition. They keys are there. He around. It leaps for her, and battle is joined. The ALIEN lashes out, but HIROKO counters by swinging the weapon time and time again. With each thrust, surgically thin wounds open up on the biomechanoid's body. One of the ALIEN's attacks sends her reeling to the floor, it's stinger arching towards her. She parries, slicing the tail in half and struggling to her feet. The ALIEN strikes again. HIROKO feints, then thrusts, lopping off one of it's hands. The ALIEN HOWLS with pain, blinding lashing out at her and sending the 'smart' weapon flying from her grip. She's lost, and the creature knows it. It's lips curl into a SNARL. KER-POW! KER-POW! The ALIEN's head DETONATES, and it's skeletal body slumps forward to SPLASH into the swamp...revealing BROKEN TUSK pointing the pulse rifle. The dying PREDATOR GURGLES, his head drooping. HIROKO stumbles across to him. BROKEN TUSK's in a bad way, green gore is pulsing freely from it's throat. It gazes up at HIROKO. And with that, the PREDATOR dies. HIROKO look around. The sun is rising above the treetops, and the setting is serene. Somehow beautiful. The speakers in the heli-jet cabin CRACKLE to life, jarring her. VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Rimward Tracking Station, this is the one thirty-second Rim Corp Battalion operating out of the cruiser Tartarus from Fort Powell. Please respond. Over. There's a sound O.S., like a THUNDERCLAP. HIROKO surveys the horizon. HIROKO's P.O.V. A pair of MARINE DROPSHIPS float above the distant rainforest, their weapons arms unfurled like exotic armed insects. Searchlights probe the ground far below. A shadow falls over HIROKO, blocking out the sun. A monstrous SHAPE occupies the air above, delineated only by power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With	What happens as a result of Weyland's death?	Alexa and Sebastian have enough time to escape from the Predators and Aliens.
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard on the suit's sleeve. CASSIE pulls off hers and hands it over. DRISCOLL's watching HIROKO fasten up the suit. He spots a mistake. HIROKO finds the offending clasp and locks it. CASSIE and DRISCOLL exchange worried looks. HIROKO takes a deep breath. Beads of perspiration dot her forehead. PARSONS nods. PARSONS hands over a vinyl-wrapped packet. HIROKO slips it into a breast-pocket and secures the flap. DRISCOLL hands several metallic objects to HIROKO. They're magazines for her gun. She slots them into the bandolier. PARSONS (interrupting) No. There's two of them. She pulls on the zip and begins locking the harness clasps into place. YORK hands over a sophisticated-looking power-tool. YORK and DRISCOLL lower the massive dome-fronted helmet over HIROKO's head. Auto-clasps lock into place as it brackets with the collar. PARSONS clips the slimline air-tank to her back, and DRISCOLL makes the connections. CASSIE and the others hold their weapons and motion-trackers steadily at a fixed point on the ground. Two ONLOOKERS bend down to the pressure-hatch beneath the floor-grating. It's identical to the one DILLER and URIOSTE removed earlier. A plume of pressurised gas jets into the air, and they pull the metal sealing-plug free. CASSIE scrutinizes her tracker... HIROKO reaches up to her helmet and presses a chunky button on one side. HIROKO's P.O.V. We're looking through the transparent bowl of the helmet at the open shaft, braken water SLOSHING around it's rim. Superimposed lines of glowing neon appear on the visor's surface, a precisely overlaid duplication of the scene in computer-graphic form. A flatly- synthesised male COMPUTER VOICE comes over the helmet speakers, O.S. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Approaching 'A' module lower level venturiduct DS Oh-four... HIROKO gets down on a telltale vibration. The PREDATOR shuttlecraft lowers it's cloaking device, extending landing gear and a ramp. It touches down in the bayou with scarcely a whisper. HIROKO watches the PREDATORS file slowly out. BROKEN TUSK's body is borne aloft and carried back inside. The LEAD PREDATOR turns to HIROKO. He crosses to her. HIROKO's face is reflected in the faceted eyepieces of the PREDATOR's helmet. The extraterrestrial hunter pulls out his telescopic spear. KER-CHUNK! The tips lock into place. The PREDATOR offers it to HIROKO. She accepts, a little confused. There's a long moment. The PREDATOR is still standing there. Waiting. HIROKO's eyes narrow. Her mind is working furiously. What do they want? She realises. It suddenly becomes clear. She smiles. HIROKO glances back at the hovering DROPSHIPS, then walks around the waiting PREDATOR and into the shuttlecraft without looking back. The PREDATOR follows her. The ramp SLAMS closed, as we... power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking	Who taught the human civilization how to build the pyramids?	The Predators.
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking a telltale vibration. The PREDATOR shuttlecraft lowers it's cloaking device, extending landing gear and a ramp. It touches down in the bayou with scarcely a whisper. HIROKO watches the PREDATORS file slowly out. BROKEN TUSK's body is borne aloft and carried back inside. The LEAD PREDATOR turns to HIROKO. He crosses to her. HIROKO's face is reflected in the faceted eyepieces of the PREDATOR's helmet. The extraterrestrial hunter pulls out his telescopic spear. KER-CHUNK! The tips lock into place. The PREDATOR offers it to HIROKO. She accepts, a little confused. There's a long moment. The PREDATOR is still standing there. Waiting. HIROKO's eyes narrow. Her mind is working furiously. What do they want? She realises. It suddenly becomes clear. She smiles. HIROKO glances back at the hovering DROPSHIPS, then walks around the waiting PREDATOR and into the shuttlecraft without looking back. The PREDATOR follows her. The ramp SLAMS closed, as we... ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, LEMURS has fallen victim to another FACEHUGGER, which dwarfs it's small furry body. The HUGGER's fingers all ripple simultaneously as it strengthens it's hold; the movement akin to somebody drumming their fingers on a table-top. A group of PREDATORS appear in three-dimensional solidity, their camouflage cloaks deactivated. The LEAD PREDATOR SPLASHES across to the exposed roots of a tree and kneels down to examine an ANIMAL CORPSE curled up there. Most of it has been madly mutilated by something erupting from inside it's body. The PREDATOR looks up and scans the swamp, ignoring the swarm of FLIES buzzing in the air. She races over to help YORK ease ACKLAND up. As ACKLAND is turned over, BEAUVIAS gets her first look at a FACEHUGGER. She shies away, repulsed. YORK grits his teeth, but the leg injury is too painful. He slumps slowly to the floor. BEAUVAIS (yelling) Minh! Minh, get out here! YORK shakes his head. There's a long pause while everyone considers the options. The motion sensor outside begins BEEPING again. MINH catches BEAUVAIS' head-jerk. MINH hefts his 'howitzer' and leaves the tent. BEAUVAIS rounds on YORK, continuing. MINH (muttering) Take a goddamn wrench to those things... He thumbs a stud on the top of the 'howitzer'. There's a gentle WHINE, and the HISS of hydraulic cylinders as the harness mechanism lifts the weapon up. It darts quickly to-and-fro; a mechanical snake seeking a target. We see MINH's hand in CLOSE UP. In addition to the firing trigger, there's also a thumb button. He squeezes it... The gun swings sharply around in a blinding movement, tracking something automatically. There's a THUNDEROUS RUMBLE as it fires-off three shots in rapid succession. Something that was	How often do the Predators visit Earth?	Every 100 years.
a telltale vibration. The PREDATOR shuttlecraft lowers it's cloaking device, extending landing gear and a ramp. It touches down in the bayou with scarcely a whisper. HIROKO watches the PREDATORS file slowly out. BROKEN TUSK's body is borne aloft and carried back inside. The LEAD PREDATOR turns to HIROKO. He crosses to her. HIROKO's face is reflected in the faceted eyepieces of the PREDATOR's helmet. The extraterrestrial hunter pulls out his telescopic spear. KER-CHUNK! The tips lock into place. The PREDATOR offers it to HIROKO. She accepts, a little confused. There's a long moment. The PREDATOR is still standing there. Waiting. HIROKO's eyes narrow. Her mind is working furiously. What do they want? She realises. It suddenly becomes clear. She smiles. HIROKO glances back at the hovering DROPSHIPS, then walks around the waiting PREDATOR and into the shuttlecraft without looking back. The PREDATOR follows her. The ramp SLAMS closed, as we... the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her and no means of defending herself, HIROKO's a goner. The lead ALIEN's lethal double-barrel teeth open. It's almost on her. HIROKO <b>CRIES OUT... </b> WHOOSH! The ALIEN's face is severed in half. A circular metal object blurs through the air and loops back on itself, almost faster then the human eye can follow. A massive form SLAMS down in front of HIROKO, pushing her out of the way. She hits the deck hard and gasps. BROKEN TUSK is standing before her. He skillfully catches the frisbee-like 'smart weapon', then throws it again. HIROKO watches with awe as the PREDATOR joins battle against the ALIENS. HISSING ALIEN jaws are silenced by BROKEN TUSK's formidable fighting technique. Questing limbs are BLASTED and HACKED away by advanced PREDATOR weaponry. Acidic blood flows freely. The skirmish is surprisingly brief. BROKEN TUSK and HIROKO stare at one another. BROKEN TUSK pulls a slung metal rod from his shoulder. Two barbed tips SCHNICK outwards, forming a spear. The PREDATOR looks at her, and his lip curls. It takes a second for HIROKO to realise he's offering it to her. Bewildered, she accepts it, pulling herself up. A bright orange ball of flame mushrooms up behind, getting both of their attentions. BROKEN TUSK regards her. His mandibles CLICK-CLACK nervously... The PREDATOR turns away, seemingly uninterested. She throws it aside. BROKEN TUSK stands beside her, keeping guard. Another DETONATION goes off behind, even LOUDER. She begins to walk away. BROKEN TUSK crosses to the safety barrier, peering over the side... The PREDATOR turns a deaf ear to her. He gauges the distance below, then throws himself off the platform's edge. She races across to the rail spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking around. It leaps for her, and battle is joined. The ALIEN lashes out, but HIROKO counters by swinging the weapon time and time again. With each thrust, surgically thin wounds open up on the biomechanoid's body. One of the ALIEN's attacks sends her reeling to the floor, it's stinger arching towards her. She parries, slicing the tail in half and struggling to her feet. The ALIEN strikes again. HIROKO feints, then thrusts, lopping off one of it's hands. The ALIEN HOWLS with pain, blinding lashing out at her and sending the 'smart' weapon flying from her grip. She's lost, and the creature knows it. It's lips curl into a SNARL. KER-POW! KER-POW! The ALIEN's head DETONATES, and it's skeletal body slumps forward to SPLASH into the swamp...revealing BROKEN TUSK pointing the pulse rifle. The dying PREDATOR GURGLES, his head drooping. HIROKO stumbles across to him. BROKEN TUSK's in a bad way, green gore is pulsing freely from it's throat. It gazes up at HIROKO. And with that, the PREDATOR dies. HIROKO look around. The sun is rising above the treetops, and the setting is serene. Somehow beautiful. The speakers in the heli-jet cabin CRACKLE to life, jarring her. VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Rimward Tracking Station, this is the one thirty-second Rim Corp Battalion operating out of the cruiser Tartarus from Fort Powell. Please respond. Over. There's a sound O.S., like a THUNDERCLAP. HIROKO surveys the horizon. HIROKO's P.O.V. A pair of MARINE DROPSHIPS float above the distant rainforest, their weapons arms unfurled like exotic armed insects. Searchlights probe the ground far below. A shadow falls over HIROKO, blocking out the sun. A monstrous SHAPE occupies the air above, delineated only by	Why do the Predators visit Earth?	To take part in a rite of passage.
spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits	What do the Predators reward Alexa with for helping them defeat the Queen Alien?	A spear weapon.
the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes and gazes downward. She crosses to a maintenance ladder and begins to descend. No joke. BROKEN TUSK starts submerging to get across inside. BROKEN TUSK pauses for a moment. He gives her a look, then disappears into the blackness. HIROKO looks around. It's no fun being the last person left alive here. She takes several deep breaths, then reluctantly follows... BROKEN TUSK whirls, and clamps a hand across her mouth. She gets the message. HIROKO gasps. High above it a QUEEN ALIEN, nesting on top of the vast mechanism. It's EGG SAC drapes around the pump; spiraling down around it. She seems to be asleep. BROKEN TUSK ignores the QUEEN. His eyes are searching the multitude of forms - human and otherwise - cocooned into the walls. He finds what he's looking for. Up on one wall is another PREDATOR. Dead. It's stomach blown open. HIROKO holds her spear tightly. FACEHUGGERS pulse malignantly, wrapped around several trapped victims. A number of empty EGGS are scattered here-and-there. BROKEN TUSK looks around. No ALIENS. He begins climbing the organic fresco, watching the QUEEN ALIEN carefully for signs of awareness. The bellows-like SOUND of her BREATHING is overwhelming. He reaches the entrapped PREDATOR. It's left arm is encased in a solidified mass of secreted resin. BROKEN TUSK raises his 'smart weapon' and activates it. The SPLINTERING NOISE makes HIROKO wince. She glances up at the QUEEN. It's breathing start to change, and it's head moves... BROKEN TUSK sees it too. He hesitates for a moment. The QUEEN settles, and her breathing goes back to normal. BROKEN TUSK resumes his work, chipping off the final chunk of coating. He sheathes until the door slides shut behind him. DE VRIES pauses, listening to the sound from the surrounding forest. GUTTIEREZ cocks his head and listens. He has no idea what she means. GUTTIEREZ shivers in the wind as he looks out into the impenetrable blackness beyond the confines of the base. BREWSTER the dog stares in fascination at the rhinos through the meshwork fence of their pens. The animals move around in agitation. Not at her, but at something else... Indistinct inside their camouflage cloaks, the small group of PREDATORS wade carefully through the water towards the base of the installation. There's more NOISE. About a dozen fluorescent strips ringing the small circular chamber illuminate. Three others flicker erratically, one of them remaining unlit. DILLER waves the tracker cautiously around and keeps his pulse- rifle level. He enters, followed by URIOSTE. She's carrying a portable - but bulky - piece of machinery. DILLER (sarcastic) Yeah, eyestrain. What's with the lights? DILLER sweeps the tracker carefully around. The small screen registers nothing. URIOSTE pulls at a two-piece hexagonal grating set in the center of the floor. It's heavy and thick with grease, but she doesn't seem to mind. Below it is what looks like a round metal plug. Recessed into its surface is a lever next to a central pressure valve, with handholds on either side. She turns the lever. There's a loud CLUNK, and a plume of steam JETS out of the valve. GRUNTING, the two of them pull the thick metal plug clear of the pit. Murky water sloshes around below. URIOSTE pulls a second lever, and hidden pumps make the water level drop rapidly. Leaning against the wall behind DILLER is a sturdy metal tripod topped	Where is Bouvetoya geographically located?	About 1,000 miles off the coast of Antarctica.
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard we see that it's BROKEN TUSK. The PREDATOR's good hand flashes down to his thigh, almost too quick to follow. In one rapid movement a circular 'smart-weapon' is brought up, slicing the front of the ALIEN skull away from it's head. In a feat of strength, the PREDATOR lifts his opponent's corpse on the end of the spear and hurls it over the catwalk railing... Not wasting a second, BROKEN TUSK performs an almost-vertical bound of some twenty feet with astounding grace. He grips a pipe running down the side of one of the building modules, then clambers over the roof's edge and finally disappears from view. BREWSTER continues to BARK frenetically. HIROKO's headset has been knocked to the floor and a FRANTIC MUTED VOICE is coming from it. She picks it up, and presses the 'transmit' switch. HIROKO (into headset) It's alright, Rob... HIROKO (CONT'D) (O.S., on speaker) Everything's under control. Wait a second. THOMAS shakes his head. GUTTIEREZ and DE VRIES race across the platform to join the stunned survivors of the skirmish. GUTTIEREZ bends down by DILLER's body. THOMAS lays a hand on GUTTIEREZ' arm. HIROKO thinks quickly, and comes to a decision. She speaks into her radio headset. KAMEN rubs his throat. He nods. BREWSTER's BARKS cease, replaced instead with a TERRIFIED LOW WHINING. GUTTIEREZ jogs over to BREWSTER. Lowers his rifle to the ground and fumbles with the knot tying the dog to the pipe. A spray of plastic shards EXPLODES not three feet away from GUTTIEREZ. The rifle goes skittering away out of reach, and he scrambles away as an ALIEN half-pulls itself out of the sewer overflow, wet and glistening... BREWSTER's a mass of fur, totally in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. the chainsaw up. The blade slices into the creature's throat, and up through it's head. THOMAS draws out the chainsaw quickly. Something happens to the PITCH of the blade, a peculiar sound... The acid eats through the links of the chainsaw band. Like a metallic snake, it WHIPS off it's supporting frame. Straight at THOMAS. HIROKO'S P.O.V. Green neon flashes in her display, with accompanying notations. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Progress to secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven impeded. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry... HIROKO (into headset) Okay, I'm at the first access grate. CASSIE's VOICE is a little less clear now, with traces of STATIC drifting in... CASSIE (O.S., on speakers) Copy that. Be careful, now. She places the tip of her power-tool over the first of the grille's anchoring bolts. The complex mechanism WHINES as it selects the correct wrench-tip for the job... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Caution! Entering secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry to Central Reservoir... HIROKO (annoyed) Yeah, yeah, yeah... With difficulty, she straddles the floor turbine. A vortex of water swirls around her as she brings the power-tool up once more. CASSIE's all-business, immediately calling-up the base floor-plan files on a monitor. PARSONS (CONT'D) (into headset) Is Thomas gonna make it? GUTTIEREZ (O.S., on speakers) Uh...difficult to say. I think... A fragmented VOICE comes through on her headset, distorted beyond recognition. HIROKO's forehead knits together in concentration and annoyance. CLICK. CLICK. BEEP! The routine sound of the motion tracker changes suddenly. HIROKO turns her attention from the task-in-hand to study the tracker's helmet readout. THREE	What does Charles Bishop Weyland discover using thermal imaging?	A pyramid about 2,000 feet under the ice.
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, on the suit's sleeve. CASSIE pulls off hers and hands it over. DRISCOLL's watching HIROKO fasten up the suit. He spots a mistake. HIROKO finds the offending clasp and locks it. CASSIE and DRISCOLL exchange worried looks. HIROKO takes a deep breath. Beads of perspiration dot her forehead. PARSONS nods. PARSONS hands over a vinyl-wrapped packet. HIROKO slips it into a breast-pocket and secures the flap. DRISCOLL hands several metallic objects to HIROKO. They're magazines for her gun. She slots them into the bandolier. PARSONS (interrupting) No. There's two of them. She pulls on the zip and begins locking the harness clasps into place. YORK hands over a sophisticated-looking power-tool. YORK and DRISCOLL lower the massive dome-fronted helmet over HIROKO's head. Auto-clasps lock into place as it brackets with the collar. PARSONS clips the slimline air-tank to her back, and DRISCOLL makes the connections. CASSIE and the others hold their weapons and motion-trackers steadily at a fixed point on the ground. Two ONLOOKERS bend down to the pressure-hatch beneath the floor-grating. It's identical to the one DILLER and URIOSTE removed earlier. A plume of pressurised gas jets into the air, and they pull the metal sealing-plug free. CASSIE scrutinizes her tracker... HIROKO reaches up to her helmet and presses a chunky button on one side. HIROKO's P.O.V. We're looking through the transparent bowl of the helmet at the open shaft, braken water SLOSHING around it's rim. Superimposed lines of glowing neon appear on the visor's surface, a precisely overlaid duplication of the scene in computer-graphic form. A flatly- synthesised male COMPUTER VOICE comes over the helmet speakers, O.S. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Approaching 'A' module lower level venturiduct DS Oh-four... HIROKO gets down on	Who is Alexa Woods?	She is a guide for the team of investigators hired by Weyland Corporation.
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes the chainsaw up. The blade slices into the creature's throat, and up through it's head. THOMAS draws out the chainsaw quickly. Something happens to the PITCH of the blade, a peculiar sound... The acid eats through the links of the chainsaw band. Like a metallic snake, it WHIPS off it's supporting frame. Straight at THOMAS. HIROKO'S P.O.V. Green neon flashes in her display, with accompanying notations. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Progress to secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven impeded. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry... HIROKO (into headset) Okay, I'm at the first access grate. CASSIE's VOICE is a little less clear now, with traces of STATIC drifting in... CASSIE (O.S., on speakers) Copy that. Be careful, now. She places the tip of her power-tool over the first of the grille's anchoring bolts. The complex mechanism WHINES as it selects the correct wrench-tip for the job... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Caution! Entering secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry to Central Reservoir... HIROKO (annoyed) Yeah, yeah, yeah... With difficulty, she straddles the floor turbine. A vortex of water swirls around her as she brings the power-tool up once more. CASSIE's all-business, immediately calling-up the base floor-plan files on a monitor. PARSONS (CONT'D) (into headset) Is Thomas gonna make it? GUTTIEREZ (O.S., on speakers) Uh...difficult to say. I think... A fragmented VOICE comes through on her headset, distorted beyond recognition. HIROKO's forehead knits together in concentration and annoyance. CLICK. CLICK. BEEP! The routine sound of the motion tracker changes suddenly. HIROKO turns her attention from the task-in-hand to study the tracker's helmet readout. THREE on the suit's sleeve. CASSIE pulls off hers and hands it over. DRISCOLL's watching HIROKO fasten up the suit. He spots a mistake. HIROKO finds the offending clasp and locks it. CASSIE and DRISCOLL exchange worried looks. HIROKO takes a deep breath. Beads of perspiration dot her forehead. PARSONS nods. PARSONS hands over a vinyl-wrapped packet. HIROKO slips it into a breast-pocket and secures the flap. DRISCOLL hands several metallic objects to HIROKO. They're magazines for her gun. She slots them into the bandolier. PARSONS (interrupting) No. There's two of them. She pulls on the zip and begins locking the harness clasps into place. YORK hands over a sophisticated-looking power-tool. YORK and DRISCOLL lower the massive dome-fronted helmet over HIROKO's head. Auto-clasps lock into place as it brackets with the collar. PARSONS clips the slimline air-tank to her back, and DRISCOLL makes the connections. CASSIE and the others hold their weapons and motion-trackers steadily at a fixed point on the ground. Two ONLOOKERS bend down to the pressure-hatch beneath the floor-grating. It's identical to the one DILLER and URIOSTE removed earlier. A plume of pressurised gas jets into the air, and they pull the metal sealing-plug free. CASSIE scrutinizes her tracker... HIROKO reaches up to her helmet and presses a chunky button on one side. HIROKO's P.O.V. We're looking through the transparent bowl of the helmet at the open shaft, braken water SLOSHING around it's rim. Superimposed lines of glowing neon appear on the visor's surface, a precisely overlaid duplication of the scene in computer-graphic form. A flatly- synthesised male COMPUTER VOICE comes over the helmet speakers, O.S. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Approaching 'A' module lower level venturiduct DS Oh-four... HIROKO gets down on YORK looks up. The wounded PREDATOR bounds across the clearing at frightened speed. YORK turns the key again, but the PREDATOR's almost upon him. The creature WHIPS an ornately-shaped lance from it's back and thrusts it...JUST AS THE ENGINE ROARS TO LIFE AND THE HOVER-BIKE RISES FROM THE MUD! The blade slices into the bike's body and jams there, while one of it's manta- wings SMACKS into the PREDATOR's jaw, sending it reeling backwards into the swamp. YORK swivels the bike on it's axis as another plasma-bolt rips into the rear, melting away a sizable chunk of the bodywork. He sees a PREDATOR handing from a tree, and the SHIMMERING of two more PREDATORS in their camouflage nearby. He's not sticking around to argue though. YORK jams the throttle hard and the bike shoots off into the bayou as more cannon-blasts blossom around him. The group of PREDATORS appear in the camp and cautiously survey the area. The LEAD PREDATOR - the one with the distinctive armor - crosses to the tent and opens the entry flap. KAMEN nudges HIROKO awake. He switches the controls over to manual and takes the chopper down. HIROKO rubs the sleep from her eyes. KAMEN reaches under the pilot's seat and pulls out a hand-pistol. Passes it to her. HIROKO coolly examines it. HIROKO's show-boating and KAMEN knows it, but he still can't help being a little bit impressed. HIROKO (quietly) Somebody picked an argument. KAMEN nods and heads off that way, while HIROKO carefully inspects the wreckage dotted around the perimeter. Her foot slips on an object sunk into the soft mud. It's MINH's 'howitzer'. A dark slippery patch coats the metal. She crouches down and rubs her fingers through it.	How is the enigmatic heat bloom on the island initially detected?	By satellite.
only yards from MINH APPEARS and is blown backwards to CRASH against a tree bole, a mass of luminous green liquid and motion. MINH (CONT'D) (dumbstruck) God. MINH watches the helmeted PREDATOR fall face down into the water with a SPLASH, then lie motionless. YORK and BEAUVAIS are out of the tent in an instant. A BLAST of plasma-energy rips a gaping hole through MINH's body, spraying blood across YORK. He topples dead to the ground, a look of pained surprise on his face. BEAUVAIS is there immediately, racing across and scrabbling for the 'howitzer'. She doesn't have time to take the harness off - she just slides her finger through the trigger guard and starts squeezing off random shots. The air shimmers as an unseen shape races at her. There's a loud SWISH of sliding metal, and a telescopic spear appears out of thin air. It SLAMS through BEAUVAIS' body, lifting her off the ground and impaling her against a tree. YORK watches in horror as BEAUVAIS' arms thrash around. A moment later her struggles cease, and she'd dropped to the floor like a broken marionette. There's a CRACKLING SOUND, and the hazy air around BEAUVAIS disappears. In it's place is a PREDATOR, a luminous green patch trickling from a wound on it's arm. It's head flicks around as it zeroes-in on YORK, the three red dots of the PREDATOR's cannon following suit. YORK's quick though, already up and running when the plasma bolt EXPLODES into the tree despite the pain in his leg. His options are limited. The hover-bike is nearby. He sprints for that and his luck holds...the key's still in the ignition. He flips it. The engine COUGHS and then dies. NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes	What is located directly above the heat bloom?	An deserted whaling station.
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard in an arc that terminates at the ALIEN's grinning face. Big mistake. The two are in such close proximity that the ALIEN's acidic blood sprays across the PREDATOR's head. While their technology seems to be resistant to it, their bodies aren't: the viscous yellow liquid begins burning into the PREDATOR's skin. He kicks the skeletal corpse away with a HIDEOUS PIERCING SCREAM, clawing at his seared face. It all seems to be over as quickly as it began; there can be no question as to who were the victors. The PREDATORS stand amidst a sea of biomechanical limbs strewn around like a charnel house. As his companions begin to carefully decapitate the ALIEN skulls, BROKEN TUSK steps over the corpses to examine his fallen comrades. The first PREDATOR to be attacked was killed instantly; he crosses to the other. What he finds causes him to react with pity and disgust. His fallen comrade is only just alive; mandibles clicking frailly, half his head burnt away. BROKEN TUSK watches the ailing PREDATOR slide a steel blade from it's sheath and offer it to him. He takes it, knowing what has to be done. Rolling the knife quickly over the back of his hand - the sort of elaborate trick seasoned Green Berets perform - he plunges it downward into the fallen hunter. This unpleasant task accomplished, BROKEN TUSK straightens up and activates his wrist-computer. A dark shape blots out the light coming from the entrance; a small PREDATOR shuttlecraft, sleek and elegant. It hovers in the air with little more than a loud HUM, and extends a ramp. The surviving PREDATORS leap aboard, carrying their trophies with the reserved silence of men returning from combat. to tell. HIROKO submerges. Sure enough, there's the grille. She raises the power-tool and starts extracting the bolts. BZZZZ! There's the first one, no problem. BZZZZ...BZZZZ! The second and third are just as easy. She goes for the fourth. BZZZ...CHUNK. Nothing happens. She bears down on the trigger again. The motor's not running. A tiny green LED flashes on the machine's side. It's locked solid. A malfunction. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts is necessary to facilitate access to venturi ducts. There's only one recourse left to her. She jams down the thumb button... KER-SLAM! The force of the rivet-gun propels her backwards, her internal suit-pressure making her rise to the surface. She wipes the slime from her helmet yet again... ...And finds herself staring at an ALIEN EGG, it's top cracking open in four neat sections. The FACEHUGGER leaps straight as her faceplate... ...And misses, it's fingers failing to gain purchase on the slippery dome. HIROKO kicks away from the spindly creature as it orientates itself on the water's surface, it's powerful tail propelling itself back toward her. It contracts on itself, preparing to leap. HIROKO raises the power-tool, reflexively squeezing the trigger again and again. Fat rivets RIP through the FACEHUGGER's body. It writhes around on the water's surface, a cloud ofyellow acid billowing outward from it. HIROKO dives into the water again. She rams the power-tool at the final bolt. BZZZZ! It's out! She levers-off the grille. Forces herself into the confined space beyond... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speaker) Traversing venturi duct en route to platform surface. WHAM! An ALIEN's head squeezes the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her the chainsaw up. The blade slices into the creature's throat, and up through it's head. THOMAS draws out the chainsaw quickly. Something happens to the PITCH of the blade, a peculiar sound... The acid eats through the links of the chainsaw band. Like a metallic snake, it WHIPS off it's supporting frame. Straight at THOMAS. HIROKO'S P.O.V. Green neon flashes in her display, with accompanying notations. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Progress to secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven impeded. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry... HIROKO (into headset) Okay, I'm at the first access grate. CASSIE's VOICE is a little less clear now, with traces of STATIC drifting in... CASSIE (O.S., on speakers) Copy that. Be careful, now. She places the tip of her power-tool over the first of the grille's anchoring bolts. The complex mechanism WHINES as it selects the correct wrench-tip for the job... COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Caution! Entering secondary overflow sump DS oh-four slash eleven. Grating must be removed to facilitate entry to Central Reservoir... HIROKO (annoyed) Yeah, yeah, yeah... With difficulty, she straddles the floor turbine. A vortex of water swirls around her as she brings the power-tool up once more. CASSIE's all-business, immediately calling-up the base floor-plan files on a monitor. PARSONS (CONT'D) (into headset) Is Thomas gonna make it? GUTTIEREZ (O.S., on speakers) Uh...difficult to say. I think... A fragmented VOICE comes through on her headset, distorted beyond recognition. HIROKO's forehead knits together in concentration and annoyance. CLICK. CLICK. BEEP! The routine sound of the motion tracker changes suddenly. HIROKO turns her attention from the task-in-hand to study the tracker's helmet readout. THREE	What does the exploration team find in the buried pyramid?	human skeletons with ruptured chest
revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her	What does the Alien Queen do immediately after she awakes from her cryogenic state?	She starts to lay eggs.
NEBULOUS BLOBS have appeared from off-screen. Heading straight for her position. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Attention. Removal of restraining bolts it necessary to facilitate access to... HIROKO stabs the exterior helmet control. The COMPUTER VOICE ceases, while the BEEPING from the tracker rises in both pitch and volume. Whatever the signals are, they're almost on top of her... HIROKO turns to the narrow entry duct. It's position makes it virtually impossible to get back into. She tries anyhow. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP! A rush of displaced water flood into the chamber, flattening her against the wall. DARK SHAPES THUNDER past the other side of the grille like express trains in the night...going away from HIROKO. She twitches in fear and disbelief as the BLOBS on the monitor screen recede and finally disappear. The tracker's pitch returns to it's hollow CLICKING. She's found the main offshoot of the ALIENS' nest. Glued into the curved walls by a secretive resin as BODIES. HUMANS, RHINOS, LEMURS. Other ANIMALS. Most are dead, their innards blown open. The rest are comatose, twitching occasionally. Every square inch not containing bodies is filled with ALIEN EGGS. It's like Hell for real. HIROKO reaches slowly up and reactivates her helmet readout. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) ...Brrzzt. Traversing Central Reservoir en route to platform venturi dust DS two-six. HIROKO's P.O.V. She looks around and finds the exit point on the display. It's several feet away. Under the surface. She wades swiftly through the water, passing beneath something that gives her cause to pause. A large PULSATING BAG, about ten feet long and roughly ovular in shape. It might be translucent, but in this light it's hard spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With a telltale vibration. The PREDATOR shuttlecraft lowers it's cloaking device, extending landing gear and a ramp. It touches down in the bayou with scarcely a whisper. HIROKO watches the PREDATORS file slowly out. BROKEN TUSK's body is borne aloft and carried back inside. The LEAD PREDATOR turns to HIROKO. He crosses to her. HIROKO's face is reflected in the faceted eyepieces of the PREDATOR's helmet. The extraterrestrial hunter pulls out his telescopic spear. KER-CHUNK! The tips lock into place. The PREDATOR offers it to HIROKO. She accepts, a little confused. There's a long moment. The PREDATOR is still standing there. Waiting. HIROKO's eyes narrow. Her mind is working furiously. What do they want? She realises. It suddenly becomes clear. She smiles. HIROKO glances back at the hovering DROPSHIPS, then walks around the waiting PREDATOR and into the shuttlecraft without looking back. The PREDATOR follows her. The ramp SLAMS closed, as we... on the suit's sleeve. CASSIE pulls off hers and hands it over. DRISCOLL's watching HIROKO fasten up the suit. He spots a mistake. HIROKO finds the offending clasp and locks it. CASSIE and DRISCOLL exchange worried looks. HIROKO takes a deep breath. Beads of perspiration dot her forehead. PARSONS nods. PARSONS hands over a vinyl-wrapped packet. HIROKO slips it into a breast-pocket and secures the flap. DRISCOLL hands several metallic objects to HIROKO. They're magazines for her gun. She slots them into the bandolier. PARSONS (interrupting) No. There's two of them. She pulls on the zip and begins locking the harness clasps into place. YORK hands over a sophisticated-looking power-tool. YORK and DRISCOLL lower the massive dome-fronted helmet over HIROKO's head. Auto-clasps lock into place as it brackets with the collar. PARSONS clips the slimline air-tank to her back, and DRISCOLL makes the connections. CASSIE and the others hold their weapons and motion-trackers steadily at a fixed point on the ground. Two ONLOOKERS bend down to the pressure-hatch beneath the floor-grating. It's identical to the one DILLER and URIOSTE removed earlier. A plume of pressurised gas jets into the air, and they pull the metal sealing-plug free. CASSIE scrutinizes her tracker... HIROKO reaches up to her helmet and presses a chunky button on one side. HIROKO's P.O.V. We're looking through the transparent bowl of the helmet at the open shaft, braken water SLOSHING around it's rim. Superimposed lines of glowing neon appear on the visor's surface, a precisely overlaid duplication of the scene in computer-graphic form. A flatly- synthesised male COMPUTER VOICE comes over the helmet speakers, O.S. COMPUTER VOICE (O.S., on speakers) Approaching 'A' module lower level venturiduct DS Oh-four... HIROKO gets down on	Who taught early human civilizations to build pyramids?	The Predators.
dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, revealing a gaping cavity in his back. Bits of spine and ribcage are just visible. A CHESTBURSTER - the second stage of the ALIEN lifeform - pulls itself clear and wipes red gunk from it's body with a pair of still-underdeveloped arms. Around it's head is a distinctive nascent crest. It kicks away from ACKLAND with a powerful push from it's legs, quickly gaining balance. After a moment appraising it's new environment, it stalks off behind a table. REVNA thinks quickly. She leaps forward and THUMPS a large red stud next to the pressure-door, which promptly RUMBLES closed. The room is bathed in pools of shadows. Plenty of hiding space for the creature. REVNA hears breaking glass, making her start. She cautiously edges over to the Autodoc and looks up into the forest of probe-arms. There's a wicked looking blade there, the kind used in major surgery. REVNA reaches up and twists the base; it detaches easily. Now she's armed. Stooped over, she begins to stalk the CHESTBURSTER... There's a flurry of movement, and suddenly the hunter becomes the hunted. The CHESTBURSTER vaults from the table at her with a SHRILL SHRIEK, and REVNA blindly swings her make-shift knife in defense. We hear a SIZZLE like frying bacon... HIROKO (astonished) York... HIROKO leans over to examine him, but a particularly loud CRASH from within the Infirmary distracts her. GUTTIEREZ races up and hands DILLER a wrench with a shaped tip. He inserts the end into the open flap and pulls hard, the physical effort showing on his face. The door grinds open about eight inches... The bloodied CHESTBURSTER forces itself through the narrow gap, HISSING vehemently. Yellow fluid wells from a wound in it's crested skull, spear into the ALIEN's chest. She grabs the injured PREDATOR and pulls him away from the thrashing creature. KER-SMASH! The metal is SMASHED from beneath, right in front of her. The IMMATURE ALIEN QUEEN has made is out of the sewer system and has got the jump on them. HIROKO's forward momentum won't allow her to stop running...she's too close. Almost at the last moment, she jumps. claws brush her trouser leg, but close on thin air. She hits the deck and quickly closes the last few feet to the chopper. BROKEN TUSK stops. ALIENS are appearing all over the pad and out of nearby drainage ducts. The IMMATURE QUEEN, accompanied by a phalanx of warrior ALIENS, is almost upon him. The PREDATOR drives his wrist knives into the throat of a grasping ALIEN, which falls downward, writhing. It CRASHES into the QUEEN, who almost loses her grip on the skeletal metalwork. She HISSES, lashing out at the creature. Sends it hurtling to the ground. HIROKO's heli-jet hovers stationary just a few feet away from the tower, the door on the co-pilot's side flapping open. She HOLLERS at the PREDATOR over the ROAR of the engines. BROKEN TUSK looks down. It's a long drop...but it's the best option available to him. He jumps. THWACK! His hands grip the door frame. The heli-jet wobbles slightly, it's center of gravity shifting. BROKEN TUSK hauls himself up and through the door as... ...KER-BLAM! A massive explosion mushrooms up from the base as the storage tanks below ignite. The shock wave buffets the chopper against the tower. BROKEN TUSK turns towards her. The PREDATOR may not understand her words, but he can follow the frantic jerking power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With	How do Alexa and Scar kill the Alien Queen?	By attaching a chain to a water tower and throwing her over a cliff to be dragged to the ocean floor.
CASSIE examines the PREDATOR spear, and slowly shakes her head. REVNA lowers her pen and looks across. ACKLAND winces in pain. His breathing's getting heavy. He nods. REVNA gets up swiftly and crosses to an automated pharmacy. ACKLAND's beginning to COUGH now. ACKLAND nods again. His COUGHING has deepened, and now he's banging his chest with a balled fist. REVNA hurries over with three red tablets and a disposable cup of water. ACKLAND takes them gratefully and gulps them down. The effect is almost immediate; ACKLAND quietens and an appreciative smile comes to his pale lips. Before he has a chance to elaborate, ACKLAND COUGHS once more. A thin spray of blood and saliva dots REVNA's white smock and speckles her cheek. ACKLAND's scrabbling fingers grab her lapels as he begins to hyperventilate. She pulls away, dragging him from the bed in the process. He falls to the floor, his MOANS growing in volume. Her fingers tremble as she clumsily examines a tray of surgical instruments. She finds a pneumatic spray-injector, fully charged with a vial of amber liquid attached. ACKLAND SCREAMS and fall backwards onto the floor, his hands clawing at the air. REVNA fumbles with the injector control and gives him a blast in his upper arm. ACKLAND convulses once then goes still, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. The Infirmary is deathly quiet once again. We hear a gentle CRACKING, like twigs being snapped. REVNA watches in horrified fascination as a pool of blood spreads swiftly outward across the floor from below ACKLAND's corpse. REVNA shudders as the body moves a little, then is rolled over by something underneath it. WHAT SHE SEES. ACKLAND's body slumps forward onto it's front, ALIEN flicks it's skull back around to KAMEN. The man's head is inches away from it's eyeless face...a row of burnished metal teeth open...the toothed inner tongue ready to strike... WHOOMPH. Something lands heavily close-up, jarring the catwalk. The ALIEN drops KAMEN and WHIRLS. A spear wielded by an INVISIBLE FORM appears out of nowhere and PIERCES the ALIEN's midriff, spraying acidic fluid. The creature emits a OUTRAGED SHRIEK and flails around, it's ubiquitous tail arcing toward the camouflaged assailant. The STINGER makes contact: there's a SPUTTERING SOUND as the PREDATOR's cloaking device begins to flicker spasmodically, giving us peek-a-boo glimpses of it's natural form. Electrical sparks dance around the PREDATOR's ruin wrist-computer, luminous green blood welling from a wound in his arm... From out of the Pump Room comes more NOISE, like metal being trashed in a compactor. HIROKO SCREAMS at KAMEN, who's COUGHING painfully next to the door panel. KAMEN hastily slaps the 'close' button and both halves of the exterior pressure bulkhead RUMBLE together. A SECOND ALIEN appears from the shadows within and prises it's fingers into the dwindling gap, struggling for purchase. Despite the ALIEN's best efforts, the door motors are too powerful and the opening seals with a satisfying solid CLUNK. MUFFLED POUNDING comes from the other side. Nearby, THOMAS has retrieved CALDWELL's weapon in the heat of the fight and is bringing it to bear on the PREDATOR. At the last possible moment HIROKO sees what he's about to do... Reflexively, she knocks the barrel away as THOMAS looses a volley of shots. One of the ALIEN's hands clamps firmly onto the PREDATOR's mask and wrenches it off. HIROKO stares at the PREDATOR's face in fascination. From the distinctive features, dissolving everything it comes into contact with. The small group gathered around fall back in panic, jarring YORK's trolley and knocking HIROKO to the floor. BREWSTER BARKS at the CHESTBURSTER, which tenses as if to leap. DILLER brings the wrench down, but the CHESTBURSTER evades his blow and takes flight. It strikes at HIROKO, who reflexively draws her head back and escapes with nothing more than a light scratch to the cheek. The ALIEN disappears down the corridor, leaving a trail of smeared blood and a series of acidic pits which melt the grillework flooring. GUTTIEREZ bends down and helps HIROKO to her feet. Shocked, she MUTTERS something to herself in JAPANESE, and regains some of her composure. DILLER stands there with the metal bar. Does she think he's nuts? This galvanises DILLER. He races off in pursuit. HIROKO AND GUTTIEREZ try to force the door, but DILLER was right - it won't budge. HIROKO slips her arm through the gap and fumbles around blindly. She must have hit the control knob, because the door slides back. CASSIE looks inside. She turns away and retches. HIROKO steps through and goes pale. There are blood-smears over everything, and it's all GUTTIEREZ can do to stop BREWSTER from getting in there. CASSIE nods soberly. HIROKO looks at everybody, and her words are carefully chosen. There are nods of agreement and general enthusiasm all round. This seems to appeal to those assembled there. There's a palpable buzz in the air. He nods toward the PREDATOR spear in HIROKO's hands. YORK shakes his head in fear. KAMEN claps the man on the shoulder to reassure him. YORK nods. He gets to his feet and leaves the room. HIROKO waits the 'smart weapon', and flips open the other PREDATOR's wrist device. He withdraws the small manipulator device we saw earlier, and goes to work... DOWN BELOW, HIROKO's backing away. She doesn't see the arm coated in slime that grasps at her hair. She shudders, stifling a SCREAM. Her eyes are wide as she turns... It's KAMEN. He's been embedded into the biomechanical frieze. When he speaks, his voice is wracked with pain and suffering. HIROKO fearfully says something beneath her breath in JAPANESE. UP ON THE WALL, BROKEN TUSK has finished his task. He slides the tip of a claw across the self-destruct mechanism. It's readout display illuminates with alien characters. He activates a button, and the readout begins to blink... BELOW, KAMEN is talking to a sickened HIROKO. BROKEN TUSK appears as HIROKO's shoulder. He raises his right arm. <b>SCHNICK! </b>The wrist knives slice outwards. Red blood SPATTERS HIROKO's pale face. BROKEN TUSK grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away. The two of them reach the deep end and have to wade. HIROKO pushes herself along the biomechanical outcropping. Ahead of them is the PULSING SAC. Before they're even passed beneath it, they hear SOMETHING. A SOUND like water-filled balloons hitting wet concrete. <b> </b>The SAC ruptures, spattering thick gloopy matter. A form comprised of slender limbs emerges from within. An IMMATURE QUEEN ALIEN. Though just-born, it's reflexes are razor-sharp. It lashes out at HIROKO and BROKEN TUSK. HIROKO ducks, and the QUEEN's claws embed themselves in BROKEN TUSK's shoulder, destroying his automatic cannon. BROKEN TUSK HISSES with hate, and brings his 'smart weapon' SLICING down through her arm, severing it at the wrist. HIROKO simultanesouly DRIVES her power-tools in lieu of firearms. A blonde surfer- type with long straggly hair rushes over to them. This is MATT, their savior. GUTTIEREZ stares through the narrow opening as the doors seal back up. In the midst of the flames, the ALIENS are fighting a pitched battle tooth-and-nail with their unseen opponents. It's like a scene out of Hell. HIROKO and KAMEN race along the final corridor leading to the Command Center. Halfway down, KAMEN turns in response to a JARRING SOUND from the rear. The metal grating making up the floor is SMASHED violently from beneath. He SHOUTS back into the crowded room. HIROKO (anguished) No! The blade bites deep, and yellow blood bursts from the threshing ALIEN's wound. Speckles of it dot KAMEN's leg, eating through the material of his trousers and into the skin and muscle beneath. He SCREAMS, a sound of pure intense pain... HIROKO hurls the axe aside. She begins pulling KAMEN out of the hole as the caustic liquid seeps into the nearby electrical conduit. There's a SPARKING, followed by a FLASH and a SHEET OF FLAME. CASSIE steps through into the corridor, just as valves evenly-spaced along the length of the tunnel open up, jetting white high-density foam under extreme pressure. The hatch to the Command Center at the far end begins to close... CASSIE's head shoots around. CASSIE's eyes widen in terror... HIROKO turns to see the long, phallic head of an ALIEN emerge momentarily from out of the foam. Something yanks at KAMEN and he disappears beneath the surface with an expression of pained surprise... HIROKO starts to thrash at the foam, but CASSIE reaches out and drags her away. The chair begins to buckle, collapsing in on itself... With	How is Scar killed?	He is impaled by the Alien Queen's tail.
doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets. he's been, where he's going and who we are, the better off we'll all be. I'm taking a holiday. A real one. He leaves. The others stare after him, looking very grim. An attractive RECEPTIONIST, her bare breasts visible through a clear plastic blouse, watches him; she then looks toward McClane who has half-opened the door to view Quail's progress. Although the driver's voice is a little mechanical (flat in tone) he is filmed from Quail's POV, and it isn't obvious he is anything other than an ordinary cab driver. Camera now cuts to a shot in front of the driver. He is a fairly human-like robot. Filmed from the elevator end of the area, we see the cab pull up and Quail alight and enter the building. He nods to the doorman and approaches the elevators. As he reaches them a MAN steps out from behind the camera. A 2ND MAN enters from a door opposite the elevators. Quail looks at them and becomes quite panicky. He takes a modern, lethal gun from his pocket. Quail turns, but the other man is behind him. Quail looks toward the doorman, who is paying little attention to the events. As the two men edge Quail towards the door, he call out... But the doorman turns calmly away. Neither man bothers answering. They arrive at their car and open the door for Quail. He hesitates. He slaps Quail hard across the face. Quail is terrified. He is tearful with fear. He cringes. His hands across his face. They start to force him into the car physically. Suddenly, Quail stops cringing. the FEAR DISAPPEARS FROM HIS FACE, and is replaced by an odd, thoughtful expression. Quail steps back.	What was Douglas Quaid's profession in 2084?	A construction worker
in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The he's been, where he's going and who we are, the better off we'll all be. I'm taking a holiday. A real one. He leaves. The others stare after him, looking very grim. An attractive RECEPTIONIST, her bare breasts visible through a clear plastic blouse, watches him; she then looks toward McClane who has half-opened the door to view Quail's progress. Although the driver's voice is a little mechanical (flat in tone) he is filmed from Quail's POV, and it isn't obvious he is anything other than an ordinary cab driver. Camera now cuts to a shot in front of the driver. He is a fairly human-like robot. Filmed from the elevator end of the area, we see the cab pull up and Quail alight and enter the building. He nods to the doorman and approaches the elevators. As he reaches them a MAN steps out from behind the camera. A 2ND MAN enters from a door opposite the elevators. Quail looks at them and becomes quite panicky. He takes a modern, lethal gun from his pocket. Quail turns, but the other man is behind him. Quail looks toward the doorman, who is paying little attention to the events. As the two men edge Quail towards the door, he call out... But the doorman turns calmly away. Neither man bothers answering. They arrive at their car and open the door for Quail. He hesitates. He slaps Quail hard across the face. Quail is terrified. He is tearful with fear. He cringes. His hands across his face. They start to force him into the car physically. Suddenly, Quail stops cringing. the FEAR DISAPPEARS FROM HIS FACE, and is replaced by an odd, thoughtful expression. Quail steps back. THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to <b> SAFETY. </b> ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see -- ENTIRE FRAME -- are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava. Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice. They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again. Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time. Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed. He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought. He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him. Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers. Quail looks at her quizzically. Quail looks crestfallen. She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed. Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife. The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER <b> TAX." </b> His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park." Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her. She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters	Which planet is Quaid dreaming about?	Mars
with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The Ronald Shusett and Dan O'Bannon Ronald Shusett and Steven Pressfield SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit. PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below... the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust, which alternately obscures and then reveals the image. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically - enlarging the film grain in the process. ANOTHER ANGLE, and, in the distance, on the horizon of the arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face, though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES optically FORWARD. DISSOLVE. CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front. It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move) towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems. As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of fragments which hurtle toward the camera... The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite of two different substances: rough-textured, clay-like material and red quartz, which glistens like crystal. The man throws a backward glance over his shoulder, fear- fully, as he runs. His HANDS are SPLATTERED with BLOOD. Because of this, the RED GLOW, the air of FEAR to the man, and the GROUND HEAVING and BUCKLING, there is almost a SATANIC suggestion to the scene. Suddenly, up AHEAD of the man, there appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. He SEES IT, and runs even faster towards it. We are ALMOST UP TO on, stare out as Bennie claws desperately at his severed air line. The Martian vacuum pulls the oxygen from Bennie's lungs, he chokes, staggers -- A driver in one of the patrol vehicles (filmed from outside the windscreen) is speaking into a microphone. He can't be heard but can only be radioing a report. Quail mans the controls while Melina struggles to shore up the gaping hole in the side, into which SAND is POURING as the mole moves forward. Quail looks at a compass in the control panel. He makes a correction. Sand pours over him from bullet holes resulting from the encounter with patrol cars. CU speedometer: 22 MPH. Every other gauge is overheating, flashing WARNING LIGHTS -- On some of the video screens a number of space shuttles can be seen, ready for departure to Earth. There's a lighted area at the end of the tunnel. Quail and Melina hurry toward it, moving silently, close to the wall. Quail and Melina are forty feet below the upper end of the main downshaft. They can look up the shaft and see the first interior level of the Sphinx itself. He's right at home -- and full of confidence. Quail climbs onto the ladder, which links various top levels. He starts to climb. Melina follows him. They are tiny figures. The space around them plummets down to infinity. Seven of the Guards move off, two remain in position. We HEAR the FOOTSTEPS of the seven guards recede. The two remaining guards realize their isolation; they glance tensely to one another. The First Guard points to the edge of the main shaft -- right where Quail and Melina are hiding. The Guards cock their weapons, start cautiously	What is rumored to be located in the mines?	Alien artifacts
with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets. THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to <b> SAFETY. </b> ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see -- ENTIRE FRAME -- are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava. Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice. They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again. Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time. Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed. He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought. He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him. Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers. Quail looks at her quizzically. Quail looks crestfallen. She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed. Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife. The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER <b> TAX." </b> His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park." Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her. She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters he's been, where he's going and who we are, the better off we'll all be. I'm taking a holiday. A real one. He leaves. The others stare after him, looking very grim. An attractive RECEPTIONIST, her bare breasts visible through a clear plastic blouse, watches him; she then looks toward McClane who has half-opened the door to view Quail's progress. Although the driver's voice is a little mechanical (flat in tone) he is filmed from Quail's POV, and it isn't obvious he is anything other than an ordinary cab driver. Camera now cuts to a shot in front of the driver. He is a fairly human-like robot. Filmed from the elevator end of the area, we see the cab pull up and Quail alight and enter the building. He nods to the doorman and approaches the elevators. As he reaches them a MAN steps out from behind the camera. A 2ND MAN enters from a door opposite the elevators. Quail looks at them and becomes quite panicky. He takes a modern, lethal gun from his pocket. Quail turns, but the other man is behind him. Quail looks toward the doorman, who is paying little attention to the events. As the two men edge Quail towards the door, he call out... But the doorman turns calmly away. Neither man bothers answering. They arrive at their car and open the door for Quail. He hesitates. He slaps Quail hard across the face. Quail is terrified. He is tearful with fear. He cringes. His hands across his face. They start to force him into the car physically. Suddenly, Quail stops cringing. the FEAR DISAPPEARS FROM HIS FACE, and is replaced by an odd, thoughtful expression. Quail steps back.	Who is Lori's real husband?	Richter
with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The Ronald Shusett and Dan O'Bannon Ronald Shusett and Steven Pressfield SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit. PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below... the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust, which alternately obscures and then reveals the image. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically - enlarging the film grain in the process. ANOTHER ANGLE, and, in the distance, on the horizon of the arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face, though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES optically FORWARD. DISSOLVE. CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front. It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move) towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems. As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of fragments which hurtle toward the camera... The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite of two different substances: rough-textured, clay-like material and red quartz, which glistens like crystal. The man throws a backward glance over his shoulder, fear- fully, as he runs. His HANDS are SPLATTERED with BLOOD. Because of this, the RED GLOW, the air of FEAR to the man, and the GROUND HEAVING and BUCKLING, there is almost a SATANIC suggestion to the scene. Suddenly, up AHEAD of the man, there appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. He SEES IT, and runs even faster towards it. We are ALMOST UP TO he's been, where he's going and who we are, the better off we'll all be. I'm taking a holiday. A real one. He leaves. The others stare after him, looking very grim. An attractive RECEPTIONIST, her bare breasts visible through a clear plastic blouse, watches him; she then looks toward McClane who has half-opened the door to view Quail's progress. Although the driver's voice is a little mechanical (flat in tone) he is filmed from Quail's POV, and it isn't obvious he is anything other than an ordinary cab driver. Camera now cuts to a shot in front of the driver. He is a fairly human-like robot. Filmed from the elevator end of the area, we see the cab pull up and Quail alight and enter the building. He nods to the doorman and approaches the elevators. As he reaches them a MAN steps out from behind the camera. A 2ND MAN enters from a door opposite the elevators. Quail looks at them and becomes quite panicky. He takes a modern, lethal gun from his pocket. Quail turns, but the other man is behind him. Quail looks toward the doorman, who is paying little attention to the events. As the two men edge Quail towards the door, he call out... But the doorman turns calmly away. Neither man bothers answering. They arrive at their car and open the door for Quail. He hesitates. He slaps Quail hard across the face. Quail is terrified. He is tearful with fear. He cringes. His hands across his face. They start to force him into the car physically. Suddenly, Quail stops cringing. the FEAR DISAPPEARS FROM HIS FACE, and is replaced by an odd, thoughtful expression. Quail steps back. wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets.	Who does Quaid indentify himself as in the video given to him?	A Hauser
with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The he's been, where he's going and who we are, the better off we'll all be. I'm taking a holiday. A real one. He leaves. The others stare after him, looking very grim. An attractive RECEPTIONIST, her bare breasts visible through a clear plastic blouse, watches him; she then looks toward McClane who has half-opened the door to view Quail's progress. Although the driver's voice is a little mechanical (flat in tone) he is filmed from Quail's POV, and it isn't obvious he is anything other than an ordinary cab driver. Camera now cuts to a shot in front of the driver. He is a fairly human-like robot. Filmed from the elevator end of the area, we see the cab pull up and Quail alight and enter the building. He nods to the doorman and approaches the elevators. As he reaches them a MAN steps out from behind the camera. A 2ND MAN enters from a door opposite the elevators. Quail looks at them and becomes quite panicky. He takes a modern, lethal gun from his pocket. Quail turns, but the other man is behind him. Quail looks toward the doorman, who is paying little attention to the events. As the two men edge Quail towards the door, he call out... But the doorman turns calmly away. Neither man bothers answering. They arrive at their car and open the door for Quail. He hesitates. He slaps Quail hard across the face. Quail is terrified. He is tearful with fear. He cringes. His hands across his face. They start to force him into the car physically. Suddenly, Quail stops cringing. the FEAR DISAPPEARS FROM HIS FACE, and is replaced by an odd, thoughtful expression. Quail steps back. wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets. Ronald Shusett and Dan O'Bannon Ronald Shusett and Steven Pressfield SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit. PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below... the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust, which alternately obscures and then reveals the image. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically - enlarging the film grain in the process. ANOTHER ANGLE, and, in the distance, on the horizon of the arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face, though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES optically FORWARD. DISSOLVE. CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front. It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move) towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems. As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of fragments which hurtle toward the camera... The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite of two different substances: rough-textured, clay-like material and red quartz, which glistens like crystal. The man throws a backward glance over his shoulder, fear- fully, as he runs. His HANDS are SPLATTERED with BLOOD. Because of this, the RED GLOW, the air of FEAR to the man, and the GROUND HEAVING and BUCKLING, there is almost a SATANIC suggestion to the scene. Suddenly, up AHEAD of the man, there appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. He SEES IT, and runs even faster towards it. We are ALMOST UP TO	What was placed in Quaid's skull?	A tracking device
doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The Ronald Shusett and Dan O'Bannon Ronald Shusett and Steven Pressfield SUPERIMPOSE: Presenter credit. PAN DOWN lower and lower until we see the terrain below... the desert. There is no vegetation whatever, just sand and odd-shaped rock formations. The air is filled with red dust, which alternately obscures and then reveals the image. CAMERA MOVES FORWARD optically - enlarging the film grain in the process. ANOTHER ANGLE, and, in the distance, on the horizon of the arid landscape is a huge SPHINX-LIKE STRUCTURE. (It is reminiscent of the Egyptian sphinx, but both body and face, though gargoyle-like, are different in design.) There are some large pyramids not far from the sphinx. CAMERA MOVES optically FORWARD. DISSOLVE. CAMERA is much closer to the sphinx and is directly in front. It moves (combination of zoom and optical printer move) towards the eyes, which appear to be red gems. As CAMERA APPROACHES one of the eyes, it appears to be stained red glass, as in a temple. Suddenly there is a terrific explosion and the glass shatters into millions of fragments which hurtle toward the camera... The surface of the tunnel's "walls" is curious; the walls are, again, bright reddish orange, and a composite of two different substances: rough-textured, clay-like material and red quartz, which glistens like crystal. The man throws a backward glance over his shoulder, fear- fully, as he runs. His HANDS are SPLATTERED with BLOOD. Because of this, the RED GLOW, the air of FEAR to the man, and the GROUND HEAVING and BUCKLING, there is almost a SATANIC suggestion to the scene. Suddenly, up AHEAD of the man, there appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. He SEES IT, and runs even faster towards it. We are ALMOST UP TO wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets. in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to <b> SAFETY. </b> ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see -- ENTIRE FRAME -- are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava. Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice. They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again. Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time. Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed. He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought. He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him. Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers. Quail looks at her quizzically. Quail looks crestfallen. She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed. Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife. The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER <b> TAX." </b> His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park." Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her. She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters	Why were most of the people in Venusville mutated?	poor radiation shielding
with REKALL's numbers. Scene opens on a CU of McCLANE, a genial, bubbling, enthus- iastic man. McCLANE We're all dreamers, Douglas. But here at Rekall, dreams are our business. He presses a button on his desk and the chairs on which they are seated appear to be in outer space. Countless stars glitter all around. Startlingly, a comet whizzes by. Quail is amazed. McClane grins and presses the button again. The scene changes to a beautiful underwater coral reef. Multi-colored fish swim around the chairs and desk. McCLANE (shaking his head; smiling) We prefer the term "extra- factual implant". Your memory will be complete in every way. You will have gone to Mars. We guarantee that. McCLANE Not when you deal with qualified operators - like us. He presses the button again and the normal office returns. Quail looks around, impressed. McCLANE And look at our follow-up program! He puts items on the desk as he talks. McCLANE (continuing) Space-flight ticket stub... passport... vaccination certificates... matchbooks from Martian Nouvelle Cuisine Restaurants, souvenirs, post cards... even names of people you met - now back there - who you can call and discuss your trip with... by the way, we plant these things where you'll come across them at random in the future. McCLANE (smiling; self- satisfied) But you won't remember me, or having been here. McCLANE Your money back if you do! We've never paid out yet. Quail slumps backs in his chair, overwhelmed. McCLANE (continuing) And we have a special this month, for only two-hundred thousand dollars more. At the press of a button, a list appears on the wall... Quail's eyes linger on "Intelligence Agent." McCLANE (airily) No. No. You're a retired agent. Mars was your last mission in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to <b> SAFETY. </b> ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see -- ENTIRE FRAME -- are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava. Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice. They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again. Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time. Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed. He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought. He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him. Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers. Quail looks at her quizzically. Quail looks crestfallen. She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed. Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife. The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER <b> TAX." </b> His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park." Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her. She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters blank section on the panel. Slowly, through the panel, a luminous hand reaches toward Quail's fingers. Gently, the fingers of the two hands touch. The entire control room begins to rumble and shudder. As Quail reaches for Melina, Cohaagen suddenly dives on him. They grapple amid the shuddering Sphinx and can be seen only intermittently as debris crashes around them. The fight ends as Cohaagen is hurled backwards and disappears when a section of floor collapses underneath him. Quail clamps him breathing mask on as he runs. Is this his own death? Where is Melina? The tunnel walls are just like the ones in Quail's original nightmare -- bright reddish-orange, clay and quartz. Quail throws a backward glance fearfully over his shoulder. The EXPLOSIONS are closer. Suddenly -- Up ahead appears a BRILLIANT WHITE LIGHT. Quail sees it, but it only terrifies him more. Is it death he's running to? He hurries on with all his strength, but -- Just as he nears the white light, HE FALLS. On his knees, too weak to move. He struggles -- HANDS ARE REACHING OUT TO HIM, from out of the brilliant light. Quail stretches for them, just as -- A FINAL EXPLOSION blows him forward -- straight into the WHITE LIGHT! The HANDS SEIZE HIM, pull him upward to -- MINER (from Melina's bar) I'd say in about forty years... (he and others help Quail to his feet) ...come on, we've gotta get to the Space Port. That Intergalactic Napoleon's switched off the air. A MINER'S WIFE watches them. She is crying. Quail looks up at the sky. Melina follows his glance. So do the others. Slowly, but perceptibly, the color is changing from yellow to blue. All the miners are puzzled, apprehensive. Quail reaches toward the one who spoke to him before and pulls off his breathing apparatus. At first the man is shocked, then realizes he can breathe without it. Quail takes off his own, then Melina's All the miners watch in amazement. They all remove their breathing masks. Melina embraces him. Melina looks oddly at him, smiling, mysterious. As the sky becomes more and more blue, more of the Miners descend from the bus. Softly at first, then with more and more confidence, they begin singing the Martian National Anthem. The music swells. Quail puts his arm around Melina. They both join in the chorus. It reaches an impassioned crescendo as the FRAME FREEZES and the END CREDITS ROLL UP the screen.	Where were Quaid and Melina taken to?	Cohaagen
in the hallway, All over the hotel, ALARMS begin BLARING. Quail bundles the waiter unceremoniously back inside the elevator. The elevator has reached the basement. They rush out. A solar car whips out in front of them. Quail and Melina leap aboard. Bennie reaches down, grasps a KNOB. He yanks it, like someone starting an outboard motor -- and an ear-splitting LOUD ENGINE roars to life. Bennie opens the throttle and the solar car HURTLES DOWN THE STREET. Quail and Melina are thrown back in the seat. BULLETS from the cruiser rip through the car. At the end of the street, however, Bennie doesn't stop but continues going into a large opening. It is an abandoned mine. The bigger car follows him, but won't fit. The roof is smashed to pieces as the vehicle is wedged into the narrow opening. The second official car pulls up behind. A chauffeur jumps out and opens the rear door. Cohaagen steps out. He sur- veys the scene. The four men in the wrecked car clamber their way backwards out of the wreckage. They are covered in blood and their clothes are in shreds. Cohaagen turns to an associate, EMILE, a youngish, well-dressed executive type. They have now climbed out of the car. Quail looks searchingly at Melina and Bennie. He unzips his jacket to reveal a T-shirt with "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" (and an appropriate symbol) emblazoned on it. They walk as they talk - into a room off the main tunnel. It is adorned with "FREE MARS" and "MARTIAN LIBERATION FRONT" posters. A group of people are printing T-shirts and leaflets. They exchange greetings with Melina and Bennie. He slumps into a chair with frustration. The searchlight approaches doubled over, with some attachments and a tiny METAL HEAD on one end, and some tubes of salve. He turns on the cassette recorder. The VOICE he hears on the cassette TAPE is HIS OWN! Quail makes a face. Holding the wet towel against his neck, Quail slowly withdraws the wire. On the end of it is a tiny, metal bead, the Transmitter. The 1st man quickly check the map-grid in the dashboard. A small bright 'x' is flashing. He carefully - avoiding springing the trap - removes the piece of cheese and pushes the transmitter inside. He then throws the cheese into the rat hole. A CU of the screen shows the small 'x' moving in circles. A large rat scurries out from behind overfull garbage bins. Furious, they fire. The bullets rip the bins to shreds, scattering refuse everywhere. The rat is killed. They all stare in disbelief. PAN to OTHER MONITORS, all depicting Quail in other action scenes -- on some kind of mission, driving a car, etc. TECHNICIANS man the monitors, scrolling through them in fast-forward and fast reverse as if searching files. The technicians turn as Cohaagen and his aides enter. The red-haired E.I.O. man joins them. The red-headed man nods. He looks at the video screen again. An image has flashed onto it of an attractive Eurasian girl. He studies the picture, which changes to show the same girl from different angles. The passengers are a diverse group - businessmen, officials, government people, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting of a predominately middle-aged and determinedly jolly crowd, many of them carrying duty-free bags. They are being marshaled by an harassed TOUR ORGANIZER, who is carrying aloft a hand-painted sign... "MARTIAN TOUR GROUP". The on, stare out as Bennie claws desperately at his severed air line. The Martian vacuum pulls the oxygen from Bennie's lungs, he chokes, staggers -- A driver in one of the patrol vehicles (filmed from outside the windscreen) is speaking into a microphone. He can't be heard but can only be radioing a report. Quail mans the controls while Melina struggles to shore up the gaping hole in the side, into which SAND is POURING as the mole moves forward. Quail looks at a compass in the control panel. He makes a correction. Sand pours over him from bullet holes resulting from the encounter with patrol cars. CU speedometer: 22 MPH. Every other gauge is overheating, flashing WARNING LIGHTS -- On some of the video screens a number of space shuttles can be seen, ready for departure to Earth. There's a lighted area at the end of the tunnel. Quail and Melina hurry toward it, moving silently, close to the wall. Quail and Melina are forty feet below the upper end of the main downshaft. They can look up the shaft and see the first interior level of the Sphinx itself. He's right at home -- and full of confidence. Quail climbs onto the ladder, which links various top levels. He starts to climb. Melina follows him. They are tiny figures. The space around them plummets down to infinity. Seven of the Guards move off, two remain in position. We HEAR the FOOTSTEPS of the seven guards recede. The two remaining guards realize their isolation; they glance tensely to one another. The First Guard points to the edge of the main shaft -- right where Quail and Melina are hiding. The Guards cock their weapons, start cautiously wallet. She flips it open to show him her E.I.O. badge. He looks down uncomprehendingly at the holographic lettering "Earth Intelligence Organisation". He sits down, holds his hand to his head. A pause as Quail mentally gropes frantically, for what to do next. Quail looks at her as if seeing her for the first time. He leaves. Kirsten smiles secretively. She goes to a drawer, opens it and removes a tiny instrument that looks like a TV channel-changer. There is a very small light on the instrument, which begins flashing on and off, as the instrument begins to make BEEPING SOUNDS. The gunman reach the bottom of the stairs and race closer to the subway train, which is just departing. The men halt abruptly. The second gunman adjusts a small plug - a radio receiver - in his ear. He looks down at an illuminated street map built into the car's dashboard. From the floor, Quail pushes the door handle and rolls out onto the street. The pursuing car occupants fail to notice his exit. Bullets rip into the robot driver's neck, severing the head from the body. The head hits the window then bounces back onto the front seat. It continues talking. DESK CLERK looks up at him, with interest. His hand hovers over the money. Quail looks at him with distaste but is only anxious to be given the key to his room. He says nothing. Quail is stunned. He says nothing, but doesn't hang up. Quail puts the phone down and rushes to the bathroom. Unscientifically, he prod the screen. Still urinating, the frustrated Scott Stevens can only look back over his shoulder. Laughing, both men open fire, riddling him with bullets. THE LIGHT, and we SEE HANDS REACHING OUT OF THE LIGHT TOWARDS US... that seem to beckon him to <b> SAFETY. </b> ABRUPTLY, the ENTIRE SCREEN GOES RED, BUT IN REVERSE NEGATIVE; with YELLOW LAYOVERS. (So that all the images we see -- ENTIRE FRAME -- are small YELLOW AREAS diffused on a RED BACKGROUND.) It is much like looking at a tableau made out of molten lava. Gradually the room lights BRIGHTEN. The CLOCK CHIMES and begins SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice. They don't budge. Shortly, the clock CHIMES again. Quail's wife stirs. Maddeningly, the clock CHIMES a third time. Quail reaches out and shuts the clock off. Then he sits up in bed. He swings his legs out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts on his glasses and sits, lost in thought. He is a good-looking but conventional man in his early thirties. He seems rather in awe of his wife, who is attractive and rather off-hand towards him. Kirsten pulls on her robe, lights a cigarette, sits fishing for her slippers. Quail looks at her quizzically. Quail looks crestfallen. She leaves the room. He meditates on what she said, depressed. Drinking his coffee, Quail studies the wall with the air of a man who had his "node stuck in a newspaper," ignoring his wife. The newspaper headline reads: "RIOTING ON MARS OVER WATER <b> TAX." </b> His wife is reading a different article: "Four Women Rape Man in Park." Quail is absorbed in his own paper and doesn't hear her. She gestures toward the TV screen where Martian police are keeping protesters	Who triggered the bomb?	Cohaagen

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