66. EXT. ELM STREET / NANCY’S HOME. NIGHT. 66.
FADE UP ON ESTABLISHING SHOT as a spooky WIND sets a DOG BARKING
down the block. A CAR goes by, then this pleasant residential
street falls into silence. CAMERA has MOVED IN on NANCY’s
well-tended two-story home.
67. INT. NANCY’S KITCHEN. NIGHT. 67.
The house is in shadow. Alone, MARGE scrapes the last of the
evening’s dishes and slips them into the dishwasher. Neither she
nor her daughter has touched the food. But MARGE is well into a
bottle of gin; her appetite for that is growing, right along with
her dread. She turns and looks up the stairs, calling.
MARGE
Nancy, don’t fall asleep in
there.
NANCY (OS)
I won’t.
MARGE
Get into bed.
68. INT. UPSTAIRS BATHROOM. NIGHT. 68.
NANCY
I will.
NANCY’S in the tub, so drowsy she can hardly rinse without
falling asleep. The water in the tub is opaque with suds.
Luxurious.
CLOSER ANGLE, AT WATER LEVEL ON NANCY. Her eyes droop. She
slides closer to the surface of the water, letting its heat sooth
her nerves. Her eyes stare straight up, glazed; her breathing
deepens.
REVERSE, across to her legs, crooked, one knee on each side of
the tub. There’s a ripple in the water between. Then something
tiny and shiny breaks the surface between them. It pops up with
a slithering MUSIC CUE and catches a sliver of light. Then it
begins to rise.
Higher and higher it rises, soon accompanied by another, then two
more shining, gleaming blades, and then the full glove and dark
hairy hand and then the wrist and arm, straight up light an evil
sapling between the girl’s knees, the knives bloosoming into a
bright flower of razor sharp steel in the air, moving over the
girl’s belly. The hand rears back, the claws arch to strike.
MARGE (OS/APPROACHING)
Nancy?
MARGE raps on the door. The instant she does NANCY jerks up,
opening her eyes groggily. The dark wet arm, hand and knifes are
gone.
NANCY
What?
MARGE (OS)
(through the door)
You’re not falling asleep,
are you? You could drown,
you know.
NANCY
Mother, for petesakes.
MARGE (OS)
It happens all the time.
(brighter)
I’ve got some warm milk all
ready for you. Why don’t you
jump into bed?
(fading)
I’m gonna turn on your electric
blanket, too. C’mon, now.
(then she’s gone into
another room)
NANCY
(low)
Warm milk. Gross.
She slides down to water level again, and sings softly,
thoughtfully to herself.
NANCY (CONTD)
One, two, Freddie’s coming for
you, three four, better lock
your door, five six, grab your
crucifix, seven eight gonna
stay up late, nine ten, never
sleep again…
The next instant she’s jerked with incredible violence straight
down beneath the surface of the tub — as if the bottom had
suddenly dropped out and she was in a bottomless well!
68A. EXT. UNDERWATER SHOT. NIGHT. 68A.
LOOKING UP PAST HER ANKLES we SEE NANCY pulled sharply down into
really deep water, the dim light of the surface and bathroom
beyond receding with each yank. And yet she somehow flails and
gasps and struggles back towards the surface, managing by pure
panic to break the surface with her hands!
68B. INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE BATHROOM. 68B.
MARGE rushes to the door and listens, alarmed at the wild
SPLASHING audible through the locked door.
MARGE
Nancy! NANCY!
68C. EXT. UNDERWATER SHOT. NIGHT. 68C.
MARGE’S VOICE reaches to the girl, who thrusts up through main
force and breaks the surface with her head and shoulders.
68D. INT. BATHTUB. 68D.
Gasping and choking, NANCY breaks the surface of her bathwater,
like a drowning sailer getting one last chance. Her mother’s
VOICE booms over her, ECHOED and frantic — and the loud BANGING
on the door finally opens her eyes. She turns and calls gasping
to her mother —
NANCY
Mommy!
REVERSE ON THE DOOR — as MARGE, using the old hangar through the
doorhandle truck, makes it into the room. She rushes across to
the tub. NANCY is staggering up in the bathwater, again with
solid porcelain beneath her feet.
MARGE
I told you! Hundreds of people
a year drown like that!
The mother throws a towel around the gasping girl, helps her from
the tub and begins drying her like a child. NANCY looks like
she’s likes paralized with some sort of weird dread.
MARGE
You okay?
NANCY
Great
MARGE
(not believing it for
a minute)
To bed with you, c’mon.
MARGE rushes out to get the room ready. NANCY turns and looks at
herself in the cabinet mirror, then opens the medicine chest and
begins a quick, furtive search.
CLOSER as she takes out the box of No Doz and slips it into her
robe.
OMIT SCS. 69 & 70——————————- OMIT SCS. 69 & 70
71. INT. HALLWAY. NIGHT. 71.
NANCY emerges from the bathroom yawning. MARGE follows as the
girl plods obediently to her room.
MARGE
No television, forget the
homework, no phone calls.
NANCY
No, Mother. Yes, Mother.
No, Mother.
72. INT. NANCY’S ROOM. NIGHT. 72.
MARGE
And no school tomorrow, either.
you take a little vacation, relax
and rest for a change.
NANCY
Yes, Mother. G’night.
MARGE offers a smile, and a little yellow pill.
MARGE
Take this, it’ll help you sleep.
NANCY
Right.
NANCY pops it in her mouth and swallows obediently. MARGE leans
to her with a kiss.
MARGE
Sleep tight, don’t let the
bedbugs bite.
MARGE goes out, relieved. NANCY closes the door, leans against
it and spits the pill into her hand. She tosses it straight out
her window and takes a NoDoz.
FADE TO BLACK
73. OMIT OMIT 73.
74. FADE UP ON INSERT OF TELEVISION SCREEN. 74.
A MONSTER MOVIE in BLACK AND WHITE. NO SOUND from the set.
75. PULL BACK to REVEAL NANCY propped up in bed, furtively watching. Or 75.
is she just thinking? A bedside CLOCK reads 12:45 pm.
The girl YAWNS. She shakes herself violently and sits up
straighter, forcing herself to concentrate on the movie.
75A. ON THE TELEVISION SCREEN. A DIVER struggles to keep facing a 75A.
large circling shark.
75B. ON NANCY. Her eyes droop shut — then she jerks awake, rattling 75B.
her head as if it were a radio drifting off station. She tumbles
out of bed, throws open the window and takes a deep breath of the
cool night air.
76. EXT. NANCY’S HOUSE AND STREET. NIGHT. 76.
HIGH ANGLE, AT SECOND-STORY LEVEL. NANCY looks directly across
the street to a lighted, open window. Its curtains, sucked out
and waving in the night breeze, give the only motion to the
deserted street.
Then someone pitches out of the dark at her. NANCY gives a YELP
— then clamps her hand over her mouth as she recognizes GLEN,
balanced precariously on the rose trellis outside her window.
GLEN
Sorry! Saw your light on.
Thought I’d see how you were.
She gets herself together, barely.
NANCY
Sometimes I wish you didn’t live
right across the street.
GLEN
Shut up and let me in. You ever
stand on a rose trellis in your
bare feet?
76A. INT. NANCY’S ROOM. NIGHT. 76A.
NANCY looks over her shoulder to make sure her mother hasn’t
heard. GLEN’s already through her window and planted on her
bed. NANCY points to a chair.
NANCY
If you don’t mind.
GLEN crosses to the chair and plops down.
GLEN
So. I heard you freaked out
in English class today.
There’s no maliciousness in his voice, and the familiar frankness
is actually comforting to NANCY.
NANCY
Guess I did.
GLEN
Haven’t slept, have you?
NANCY
Not really.
NANCY tries to smile, but can’t fake it very well. GLEN looks
her over.
GLEN
You look dead and rained on, if
you want the ugly truth. And
what you do to your arm?
She shrugs, trying to keep it casual.
NANCY
Burned myself in Englsh class.
She hazards a look in the mirror, and her jaw drops.
NANCY
M’god, I look twenty years old.
(turning back to him)
You have any weird dreams last
night?
GLEN
Slept like a rock.
NANCY
(pleased)
Well at least I have an objective
wall to bounce this off.
(off)
You believe it’s possible to dream
about what’s going to happen?
GLEN
No.
NANCY
You believe in the Boogey Man?
GLEN
One two, Freddie’s coming
for you? No. Rod killed Tina.
he’s a fruitcake and you know it.
NANCY
You believe in anything?
GLEN
I believe in you, me, and
Rock and Roll. And I’m not
too sure about you lately.
NANCY thinks.
NANCY
Listen, I got a crazy favor
to ask.
GLEN
Uh-oh…
NANCY
It’s nothing too hard or anything.
(beat)
I’m just going to… LOOK
for someone, and… I want
you to be sort of a …guard.
Okay?
GLEN makes the Twilight Zone sound.
NANCY
Okay?
GLEN
Okay, okay.
(beat)
I think.
She comes very close to him.
NANCY
You won’t screw up, right? I
mean, a whole lot might depend
on it.
The way she’s looking at him gives him the creeps.
GLEN
Okay, I won’t screw up.
77. Nancy takes a deep breath. Then without another word turns off 77.
the TV and the light.
GLEN (IN DARK)
Jesus, it’s dark in here.
NANCY
Shhh. Now listen, here’s what
we’re gonna do…
78. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 78.
FADE UP ON NANCY, still in her pajamas, walking through the
shadowy streets near her home, listening for the slightest
sound. We MOVE with her. But nothing, not even the dog barking
earlier, is there now. NANCY peers into the darkness of lawns
and trees behind her.
NANCY
(stage whisper)
You still there?
Across the street and a distance away, GLEN steps from behind a
tree.
GLEN
Yeah. So?
NANCY
Just checking — keep out of
sight!
GLEN throws up his hands in exasperation and walks back out of
sight. NANCY turns and looks down between the houses, deep into
a dark alleyway. Then she forces herself to walk into it.
79. EXT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 79.
MOVING WITH HER as she makes herself go deeper and deeper into
shadows. Each time she pauses and waits, the MUSIC grows more
threatening and expectant. The feeling is of immense tension —
we’re sure the killer will come screaming out on her at any
second.
But he doesn’t. In fact absolutely nothing happens, and NANCY
emerges from the far end of the alley unscathed. The only thing
strange is that she now finds her self looking across the mall to
80. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 80.
The Police Station. It takes her a little by surprise, it just
seems to have appeared.
MUSIC creeps into the NIGHTMARE THEME as NANCY whispers hoarsely
back down the dark alley.
NANCY (CONTD)
Still there?
81. EXT. ALLEY. NIGHT. 81.
We only HEAR the DISTANT VOICE, slightly ECHOED.
GLEN’S VOICE (OS)
(yawning)
Still here!
NANCY
On your toes, right?
NANCY stares into the dark trying to see him, but she can’t. She
turns back and makes up her mind to move without him in sight.
82. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 82.
MUSIC MOUNTS as we MOVE WITH NANCY across the lawns to the police
station, creeping to the first lighted window she sees. It’s a
low, barred basement window, and NANCY reacts as soon as she
looks through it.
83. INT. ROD’S CELL. NIGHT. 83.
NANCY’S POV down into ROD LANE’s cell. The boy is on his rough
cot, twitching in disturbed sleep. And a long SHADOW is sliding
across the wall.
A big SHAPE appears in the shadowed corridor outside the boy’s
cell, and as IT walks closer NANCY can barely see it’s the
shambling, grimly scarred man with the filthy red and yellow
sweater and strange slouch hat pulled across his brow. The
KILLER from all of their nightmares.
And this giant shadow of a man passes through the bars of the
cell, like so much evil Jello. Halfway through he pauses,
turning to check over his shoulder. We see the bars clearly
penetrating his body, going in his head, passing out his ankles.
Then he turns back to ROD and moves forward, and within another
heartbeat is beside the boy.
84. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 84.
NANCY draws back sharply, swallowing in terror. She looks behind
her for help.
NANCY (CONTD)
Glen.
No answer.
NANCY (CONTD)
(louder)
Glen?!
The street is absolutely deserted. There is no motion, and no
sound save one: the distant but unmistakeable sound of GLEN
SNORING.
NANCY (CONTD)
GLEN!
A beat of silence after the shout’s echoes die, then the steady,
boyish SNORES again. NANCY swears under her breath and jerks
back around, forcing herself to look again into ROD’s cell.
85. INT. ROD’S CELL. 85.
IN HER POV — the killer picks up ROD’s bedsheet and tests it
between his powerful hands. Without thinking, NANCY bangs
against the glass.
NANCY (CONTD)
Rod! Look out!
The KILLER wheels around, locking eyes with NANCY. The girl goes
white. The man’s face is in the light, and it’s horrible —
seething with hatred and a twisted, insane intelligence.
The hold of those eyes is only broken when ROD rolls up on an
elbow with a deep, troubled GROAN. The instant ROD does this,
the KILLER fades into the shadows in the cell. But even then his
eyes hold on NANCY’s until the last second he’s visible.
ROD looks around the cell groggily, runs his fingers through his
matted hair, then collapses back on his pillow. No matter how
hard NANCY screams, ROD never once looks at the window. He just
pulls the twisted covers about his shoulders and succumbs once
more to sleep.
And now the bed sheet is no longer on the bed. The KILLER,
materializing out of the shadow again, is holding it between his
hands like a garrote. He looks up and leers at NANCY, then moves
for ROD.
86. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 86.
ANGLE BACK ON NANCY. She pounds on the window, then turns in
frustration and yells into the night.
NANCY
Glen!!
She turns back to the cell in desperation.
87. OMIT OMIT 87.
88. INT. ROD’S CELL. 88.
IN NANCY’S POV we look into a cell that is quite deserted save
for ROD. Sleeping peacefully.
89. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 89.
NANCY pulls back from the window, stunned.
NANCY
I swear…
Suddenly NANCY feels utterly exposed. She shivers, chilled and
vulnerable to the bone in her thin night clothes. She can’t
move. It’s as if some great nerve between her instincts and body
had been severed. And she hears the SOUND behind her. A sort of
filling-vibrating Scrriiitchh.
MUSIC sneaks in — the unmistakeable NIGHTMARE THEME, creeping
over her. NANCY forces herself, by sheer will, to look.
90. Ahead of her perhaps twenty-five feet, covered with a thick 90.
plastic body bag through which we can barely see her face, is
TINA. Standing square in the middle of the street. A dark ooze
of BLACK EELS roil out of its bottom, and at its top, the zipper
CHATTERS down and the greenish-white face of TINA lolls out. She
gestures, supplicating, her watery eyes desperate to convey some
desperate message.
The MUSIC FALLS TO A HUSH.
91. NANCY backs away, eyes streaming tears. 91.
NANCY
Glen, where are you! Wake up!
Glen!
DEEP RAGGED VOICE
I’m here.
NANCY twists around in horror at the same instant the KILLER
grabs for her face with his knife-fingers! The girl
intinctively pitches back, then scrambles up and runs like
hell!
NANCY
Glen! Glen!!!
92. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 92.
MOVING WITH NANCY at full gallop, running blind. She crashes
through a sawhorse into a new sidewalk, sinking into the wet
cement over her ankles. The stuff sticks to her legs in long
gluey globs and she can barely pull her feet loose.
The KILLER looms nearby,
mocking her — his scalpel claws gleaming in the streetlight. He
just misses the girl as she wrenches free and flees again, now so
winded she can only stagger.
MOVING WITH THEM. Time after time NANCY just barely manages to
elude the shadowy form, leaping from his reach by inches and
pouring on more steam. It’s too close to even bother screaming
now; and besides, that would take breath she doesn’t have. The
only SOUND is of RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, RASPING BREATH and the
KNIFE-FINGERS WHISTLING through the air.
93. EXT. NANCY’S HOME. NIGHT. 93.
NANCY tears across her front lawn and into the open front door of
her home, SLAMMING it with all her might. There’s a tremendously
satisfying CONCUSSION of wood against doorframe, and the LOCKS
fall shut.
94. INT. NANCY’S LIVING ROOM. NIGHT. 94.
NANCY
Glennn!!!
But her voice is garbled as if she’s under water, and there’s no
answer. The only clue to Glen being there at all is his distant
SNORING. Innocent. Persistent. Deep.
NANCY stops, breath in shreds, face smeared with dirt and tears.
Something is clawing the window in the dark of the kitchen.
NANCY looks and catches the MAN prying at the glass with his big
knife-fingers, the sharp blades SIZZLING against the edges of the
glass as they crack it away from the frame. NANCY runs upstairs
in blind panic.
95. INT. NANCY’S ROOM. NIGHT. 95.
NANCY darts into her unlit bedroom, slams the door and locks it.
Safe at last.
She listens at the door. Nothing. She crosses to her bed. Next
second the KILLER dives through her window and seizes her in a
shower of shattered glass!
NANCY twists and manages to grab the wrist of his knife hand with
both of hers, barely keeping the blades from her throat.
The two fall backwards in a terrible, gasping struggle, crashing
onto NANCY’s bed. Her grip is broken — the MAN stabs — NANCY
twists away, backed into a corner of bed and walls. Defenseless,
she snatches a pillow up; the KILLER lashes out — disemboweling
the pilow and sending a great gush of feathers flying. NANCY
dives for escape in a virtual blizzard.
The KILLER manages to snare her with his other hand, and the two
crash across the bedside table to the floor, the table and all
its contents cascading around them in a whiteout of feathers.
ANGLE AT FLOOR LEVEL — CLOSE ON NANCY’S AND THE KILLER’S HEADS.
The blades inch towards the girl’s face — the drool of the
grizzled shadow with the horribly scarrred face spills into her
eyes. Feathers are everywhere; MUSIC is absolutely insane!
But just when the points of steel are less than an inch from her
eyes, the old fashioned alarm clock thrown to the floor next to
NANCY’s head goes off with a jarring RINGGGGGGG!
96. Instantly the MUSIC STOPS. And a moment later the room is 96.
light.
WIDER as NANCY reels up, blinded by the sudden light, SCREAMING
AND FIGHTING on her bed.
ANGLE ON GLEN, lurching from his own sleep at the frightening
noise. He discovers NANCY pressed in terror against her
headboard, clutching a pillow like a drowning woman would a
straw.
It’s an intact pillow, and there isn’t a feather in sight.
NANCY stares incredulously at GLEN, then around the room,
untangling herself from her bedclothes. Wary and furious, her
voice hoarse.
NANCY
Glen, you bastard…
The boy looks at his friend in groggy alarm. She’s absolutely
livid, more angry than he’s ever seen her, and more strange.
GLEN
What I do?
He reaches for her — she flattens against the wall, eyes hard,
and terribly hurt, too.
NANCY
(low)
I asked you to do just one thing.
Just stay awake and watch me —
Just wake me if it looked like
I was having a bad dream.
(eyes wild)
But you. You shit — what do
you do — you fall asleep!
She stops herself, wiping a bit of spittle off her lip, alarmed
at how out of control she’s become. And suddenly she breaks,
sinking into her torn bedclothes and rubbing her head.
NANCY (CONTD)
(mostly to herself)
I must be going nuts…
MARGE (OS)
Nancy?
Her mother’s door opens OS.
GLEN
Oh, shit.
NANCY composes her voice as best she can.
NANCY
Yes, mother?
MARGE’s flip-flops approach outside the door. GLEN barrels out
the window — NANCY dives for the bed, jams off the light and
disappears under the covers. MARGE, bleary eyed herself, opens
the door and flicks on the light.
MARGE
(beat)
You okay?
NANCY
(weakly)
Yeah. Just had a little dream.
I’m falling right back to sleep.
MARGE
(beat)
Okay… You need anything, just call.
NANCY
Okay.
MARGE closes the door. NANCY immediately sits up and looks at
the window. A single bone-white feather floats down in the
moonlight. Then it’s sucked outside and is gone.
97. EXT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 97.
GLEN’s CADILLAC CONVERTABLE careens into the parking lot and
SCREECHES to a stop. GLEN and NANCY jump out and head for the
station.
GLEN
You mind telling me what’s
going on?
NANCY’s races into the station without answering.
GLEN (CONTD)
Oh, I see. That makes it all
perfectly clear.
98. INT. POLICE STATION. NIGHT. 98.
NANCY goes straight to the SERGEANT’s desk.
NANCY
Garcia, I want to see Rod
Lane again.
GARCIA winces.
SGT GARCIA
I thought when I took the
night shift I’d have peace
and quiet for a change.
NANCY
It’s urgent, we’ve gotta see Rod.
SGT GARCIA
It’s three in the morning.
Your mother know you’re out this
late?
NANCY
(faking it)
Of course — look, at least go
back and look at him. Just see
if he’s okay.
GARCIA glances at GLEN.
GLEN
(faking it)
We have reason to think there
might be something weird going
on.
LT THOMPSON (OS)
Oh, no argument on that.
NANCY jumps around at the sound of her father’s voice. LT
THOMPSON emerges from his office, rumpled and yawning.
NANCY
Dad — what you doing here?
LT THOMPSON
It so happens I work here, and
there’s an unsolved murder. I
don’t like unsolved murders,
especially ones my daughter’s
mixed up in — what are you
doing here at this hour? You’re
supposed to be getting some
sleep.
GLEN
Listen, sir, this is serious.
Nancy had a nightmare about Rod
being in danger, or something,
and so she thinks…
He trails off, loosing it under LT THOMPSON’s glare. Besides, he
doesn’t know exactly what the hell’s really going on himself.
GARCIA puts his beefy hand on NANCY’s shoulder.
NANCY
I just want to see if he’s okay!
SGT GARCIA
Take my word for it, Nancy. The
guy’s sleeping like a baby. He’s
not going anywhere.
99. INT. CELL BLOCK. NIGHT. 99.
ANGLE ON ROD in his cell. He’s asleep, all right, but not safely
so. His bedsheet has come alive. It twitches, pulsates, then
snakes towards his throat.
ROD stirs, the sheet falls still; ROD slips into deeper sleep,
and the sheet moves again, completing the noose around his neck!
100. INT. BOOKING ROOM. NIGHT. 100.
NANCY makes a move for the cell block —
NANCY
This isn’t your average nightmare,
Daddy — damn it!
The door’s locked; she hauls on it in desperation.
LT THOMPSON
Now look, Nancy, don’t push
it. You’ve already rubbed my nose
in sex, drugs and violence — don’t
start throwing in insanity!
NANCY takes that one to heart. She wheels on him and pleads, her
intensity sobering even to him.
NANCY
Just go back and check — please!
The man takes a beat, then shrugs and nods towards SGT GARCIA.
LT THOMPSON
Okay, Garcia. What the hell.
SGT GARCIA
Right…
(feeling in his pockets)
Now where’d I put the key…
He mumbles backs towards his desk. MUSIC BUILDS as we HOLD ON
NANCY’S FACE.
101. INT. ROD’S CELL. NIGHT. 101.
With a terrible SNAP ROD’s sheet jerks tight around his neck.
The startled teenager is hauled upright — eyes popping, face
purple. He claws at the sheet, but despite his strength he can’t
get his fingers between the noose and his windpipe. He’s dragged
backwards across the cot.
102. INT. BOOKING ROOM. NIGHT. 102.
GARCIA finally has the keys. Urged on by NANCY he fumbles with
the lock.
103. INT. ROD’S CELL. NIGHT. 103.
ROD’S being dragged backwards, gasping and struggling in vain
against the powerful pull — right across his cell and up the
wall, too. He clutches blindly at his throat at the far end of
the sheet coils around the bars of the high window. Then there’s
a powerful wrench of the sheet, and ROD’S neck SNAPS. The kid’s
body sags lifeless.
104. ANGLE THROUGH THE BARS as NANY, GLEN, LT THOMPSON and GARCIA 104.
appear in the corridor outside, the girl sprinting ahead.
NANCY
Rod!
But it’s too late; NANCY sinks back in horror as her father and
GARCIA rush into the cell.
LT THOMPSON
Gimme a hand, dammit!
GLEN, pale as the sheet that’s killed ROD, climbs to the bars and
unties the knot. ROD slides down over the SERGEANT’S shoulders,
limp as a marrionette with its strings slashed.
SGT GARCIA
Goddamn loco kid — he didn’t
have t’do that — Madre dios!
They lay ROD at NANCY’s feet; a strange Pieta. NANCY’s father
looks at her in spooked suspicion.
LT THOMPSON
How’d you know he was gonna do
this?
NANCY says nothing.
FADE TO BLACK
105. EXT. FOREST LAWN CEMETERY. DAY. 105.
BURN ON:
THE FOURTH DAY
FADE UP ON a stark afternoon. On a hill of sere grass
overlooking the valley, the casket of ROD LANE is lowered into
its grave.
A small group of FAMILY and FRIENDS watches soberly as the
MINISTER raises his hand in benediction.
MINISTER
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
May God be with this young man’s
soul.
ON THE FACES of MARGE, LT THOMPSON, TINA’S MOTHER and ROD’S
PARENTS. Just for a second or two, in looks too rapid for an
outsider to even notice, these adults exchange looks. Furtive,
quick glances that suggest an immense something that they all
share, something beyond even this second death among their
children. Then they are all staring ahead again, as if the
others weren’t even there.
MINISTER (CONTD OS)
His life and his death attest to
the Scripture’s warning that he who
lives by the sword shall die by
the sword.
ANGLE ON GLEN, watching —
NANCY, standing alone, not believing it for a minute.
MINISTER (CONTD OS)
But let us recall also our Lord’s
admonition that we ‘Judge not,
lest we be judged.’ Let us
attempt only to love. And may
Rod Lane rest in peace.
NANCY
(quietly)
Amen to that much.
The mourners walk away from the grave, MARGE among them. She
pauses near a MAN and two WOMEN in black — TINA’S MOTHER, ROD’S
PARENTS. They almost, it seems, speak. Then MARGE hurries on.
WE MOVE WITH HER as she’s joined by LT THOMPSON. Both are worn
and on edge. THOMPSON absently lights another cigarette,
offering one to MARGE.
LT THOMPSON
How’s Nancy doing?
MARGE
I don’t think she’s slept since
Tina died.
(shakes her head)
She’s always been a delicate
kid.
THOMPSON lights her cigarette, attempting some sort of
nonchalance.
LT THOMPSON
She’s tougher than you think.
Any idea how she knew Rod was
gonna kill himself?
MARGE
No. All I know is, this reminds
me too much of ten years ago.
THOMPSON blows a plume of smoke against the hard sky and looks
away.
LT THOMPSON
Yeah. Well… Let’s not start
digging up bodies just because
we’re in a cemetery.
He gives her a look that could cut stone. MARGE toses down her
cigarete and crosses to NANCY. The girl is simply staring off
over the valley.
MARGE
(very gently)
Time to go home, baby.
She moves her away from the brink of the hill.
106. EXT. CEMETERY PARKING AREA. DAY. 106.
MARGE opens the door of the station wagon for NANCY. NANCY turns
to them both, speaking in a still, small voice.
NANCY
The killer’s still loose,
you know.
She has a wild, Cassandra aspect that sends a chill right up
MARGE’S spine.
LT THOMPSON
You saying somebody else killed
Tina? Who?
NANCY smiles a weird sort of smile.
NANCY
I don’t know who he is. But he’s
burned, he wears a weird hat, a
red and yellow sweater, real
dirty, and he uses some sort of
knifes he’s got made into a sort
of… glove. Like giant finger-
nails.
As NANCY has described this monster from her dream, unseen by
her, the faces of MARGE LT and THOMPSON have drained completely
of color.
LT THOMPSON
(low, even, to MARGE)
I think you should keep Nancy
at home a few days. ‘Til she’s
really over the shock.
MARGE
I got something better…
(to NANCY)
I’m gonna get you help, baby.
So no one will threaten you
any more.
She takes the girl by the arm and guides her into the car,
locking the door from outside. NANCY never taking her eyes from
her father’s as the car bears her away.
FADE TO BLACK
BURN ON:
THE FIFTH DAY
107. EXT. UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE. DAY. 107.
FADE UP ON UCLA’s WESTWOOD CAMPUS and PAN TO SIGN:
UCLA SCHOOL OF MEDICINE
INSTITUTE FOR THE
STUDY OF SLEEP DISORDERS
108. INT. A LABORATORY SLEEPING CHAMBER. 108.
A NURSE applies sencors to the head, breast, arms, and fingers of
NANCY THOMPSON. The girl is lying on a simple broad cot, in her
pajamas. The room is subdued in color and holds only this single
bed. A large mirror set into one wall hides an observation room
beyond.
NANCY
But I just don’t feel… ready
to sleep yet. Please, do I
have to?
109. WIDER, REVEALING DR SAMUEL KING, a young, curly-haired internist; 109.
intelligent and wry. He treats NANCY at all times like a young
adult, never patronizing. He winks as the NURSE finishes.
DR KING
Don’t worry, you’re not gonna
change into Bride of Frankenstein
or anything.
NANCY manages a smile, but she’s haggard and visibly thinner.
MARGE, background, looks downright distraught.
DR KING (CONTD)
Nancy have any severe childhood
illnesses? Scarlet Fever?
High temperatures — concussions?
MARGE
No, nothing.
NANCY
He means, did you ever drop me
on my head.
The doctor and girl share a nervous laugh; MARGE doesn’t even
smile.
DR KING
Nightmares are expected after
psychological trauma. Don’t
worry, they go away.
MARGE
I sure as hell hope so.
NANCY
I don’t see why you couldn’t
just give me a pill to keep me
from dreaming…
DR KING
Everyone’s got to dream.
If you don’t dream, you go…
(he drills his finger
at his temple)
All set?
NANCY
No.
MARGE
They’re just simple tests,
Nan. We’ll both be right
here.
DR KING
Look, I know it’s been fright-
ening, I know your dreams have
seemed real. But… it’s
okay. Okay?
MARGE
Please, Nancy. Trust us.
The girls gauges her mother, the doctor, the situation very
carefully. Then lowers her eyes.
NANCY
It’s not you I don’t trust.
It’s…
(gives up)
Okay. Let’s do it.
Greatly relieved, MARGE gives NANCY a goodnight kiss, then
follows the doctor through a doorway near the mirror. As soon as
her mother is out of sight, NANCY’S eyes drift to the mirror
itself. In its reflection she sees herself looking back, alone
on the bed.
DISSOLVE TO:
110. INT. THE OBSERVATION ROOM. 110.
MARGE and DR KING overlook NANCY’s sleeping chamber through the
one-way mirror. And KING monitors the girl even more closely
with a bank of instruments — a mass of glowing dials, graphs and
meters. His manner with MARGE is slightly more sober.
DR KING
How long’s this been going on?
MARGE
Since the murder. She was fine
before that.
DR KING
Not to worry. No signs of path-
ology in Nancy’s EEG or pulse
rate. I’d guess what we’ve got
is a normal young girl who just
happens to have gone through
two days of hell.
MARGE
It’s just made her think…
her dreams are real…
KING adjusts a dial, watching the EKG like a hawk.
DR KING
Ever hear the old Buddhist tale
about the King who dreamed he
was a beggar who dreamed he
was a king?
MARGE twitches. Then there’s a slight alteration in the sound of
the EKG. KING nods in satisfaction.
DR KING (CONTD)
Okay, good. She’s asleep.
MARGE
(immensely relieved)
Thank God.
MUSIC RISES SOLEMNLY, MAJESTICALLY into a haunting transition as
we
DISSOLVE TO
111. A MONTAGE OF SHOTS, of the EKG GRAPH, its inky needles calming, 111.
of a METER tracing the quieting of NANCY’s pulse, and of OTHER
INSTRUMENTS, indicating life processes we can only guess. All
smoothing out.
