" T E R M I N A T O R "
April 20, 1983
A1 TITLE SEQUENCE - SLITSCAN EFFECT A1
1 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 1
Silence. Gradually the sound of distant traffic becomes
audible. A LOW ANGLE bounded on one side by a chain-link
fence and on the other by the one-story public school build-
ings. Spray-can hieroglyphics and distant streetlight sha-
dows. This is a Los Angeles public school in a blue collar
ANGLE BETWEEN SCHOOL BUILDINGS, where a trash dumpster looms
in a LOW ANGLE, part of the clutter behind the gymnasium.
A CAT enters FRAME. CAMERA DOLLIES FORWARD, prowling with
him through the landscape of trash receptacles and shadows.
CLOSE ON CAT, which freezes, alert, sensing something just
beyond human perception.
A sourceless wind rises, and with it a keening WHINE.
Papers blow across the pavement.
The cat YOWLS and hides under the dumpster.
Windows rattle in their frames.
The WHINE intensifies, accompanied now by a wash of frigid
PURPLE LIGHT. A CONCUSSION like a thunderclap right over-
head blows in all the windows facing the yard.
C.U. - CAT, its eyes are wide as the glare dies.
1A/FX ANGLE - DUMPSTER 1A/FX
ELECTRICAL DISCHARGES arc from the dumpster to a water
faucet and climb a drain pipe like a Jacob's Ladder.
2 EXT. SCHOOLYARD - NIGHT 2
SLOW PAN as the sound of stray electrical CRACKLING subsides.
FRAME comes to rest on the figure of a NAKED MAN kneeling,
faced away, in the previously empty yard.
He stands, slowly.
The man is in his late thirties, tall and powerfully built,
moving with graceful precision.
C.U. - MAN, his facial features reiterate the power of his
body and are dominated by the eyes, which are intense, blue
and depthless. His hair is military short.
This man is the TERMINATOR.
He glances down, taking calm inventory of himself, and
notices that a fine white ash covers his skin. He brushes
at it unconcernedly as he walks toward the fence, scanning
2A/FX CRANE SHOT - SCHOOLYARD/CITY - NIGHT 2A/FX
CAMERA MOVES UP as Terminator approaches the schoolyard fence
beyond which is an embankment rolling down in darkness to the
cityscape below. The school is perched at the edge of a pro-
montory offering a respectable view of the urban sprawl teem-
ing and glistening under a sullen sky. The night clouds are
shot through with occasional flashes of LIGHTNING, presaging
Terminator stands, hands on hips in prefect symmetry, gazing
down at the city as the CAMERA REACHES FULL HEIGHT.
3 EXT. PLAYGROUND - NIGHT 3
A beer bottle SMASHES on the ground. PULL BACK to include
its ex-owner and his two compatriots, YOUTH GANG MEMBERS,
lounging on the jungle gym of a deserted playground. They
sport nondescript PUNK REGALIA...torn T-shirts, fatigue
pants, combat boots or high-top sneakers, leather jackets.
The leader notices something and sits up.
Hey, hey...what's wrong with
ANGLE - REVERSE, seen past the lounging toughs, Terminator
walks naked into a pool of streetlight, striding purpose-
fully toward them.
ANGLE - OVER TERMINATOR'S SHOULDER, as he approaches them.
They slide from their perches and drop easily to the ground
Nice night for a walk, eh?
Terminator stops right in front of them.
Nice night for a walk.
They surround him, all swagger and malign good humor.
Washday tomorrow, huh? Nothing
Terminator eyes them without expression, unhurried.
Nothing clean. Right.
This guy's a couple bricks
Terminator turn to the second punk, ignoring the
Your clothes. Give them to me.
The punks exchange glances, dismayed.
Fuck you, asshole.
Without warning Terminator hammer-punches him in the temple
with blinding speed. The blow flings him with a CLANG into
the jungle gym. He drops to the ground in a still heap,
eyes open, twitching.
The leader whips out his SWITCHBLADE and slashes in one
motion. Terminator ducks back and catches the knife-
wielder's wrist in an inhuman grip. Then he punches the
leader with piledriver force just below the breastbone.
ANGLE - PAVEMENT, as the knife clatters down. The punk's
combat boots are on tiptoe, barely touching the ground.
ANGLE - TWO SHOT, Terminator and the leader are close
together as if dancing, but motionless. Their bodies are in
total shadow. The punk's eyes are wide, his veins distended
with an agonizing pressure. Terminator jerks his fist back
with a WET SOUND and the other drops OUT OF FRAME.
The last tough is stumbling away, gaping with terror. He
backs into a chainlink fence, turns to run along it, finds
he is in a corner.
Terminator takes a step toward him, his gaze ominous.
The punk begins shakily stripping off his clothes.
Thunder peals overhead.
4 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 4
A light RAIN begins to fall.
Terminator emerges onto the street from the playground,
pausing in the pool of light under a streetlight to hike
the collar of the punk's jacket.
The rain streams down over his face, running into
and over his eyes. They do not blink.
5 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 5
Another part of the city. Seedy apartments and storefronts.
The streets glisten, hissing with sporadic late night traffic.
SLOW PAN AND DOLLY into the mouth of a narrow alley lined
with trash containers and fire escapes. From a recessed
doorway, two filthy legs sprawl out onto the wet pavement.
An angry, inarticulate DRUNKARD'S MONOLOGUE rises occasionally
above the rain sounds.
ANGLE - DOORWAY, The derelict rouses from his bitter stupor
as a brilliant purple glare lights up the wet brickwork
around him. A shockwave hurls trash into the air.
Painted over windows shatter.
Rat scurry, blinded.
A FIGURE drops INTO FRAME as if out of the sky and smacks
the pavement with a muddy splash.
C.U. - DERELICT, as he blinks at the fading glare, amazed.
A NAKED MAN, compact and muscular, rises in a defensive
crouch. KYLE REESE is 22, but his face has been aged by
ordeal, the mouth hard, eyes grim. A crinkled burn scar
traverses one side of his face from chin to forehead. Other
scars, from burns and bullets, mar his hard-muscled body.
The rain washes a fine coating of white ash from his skin
as electrical ARCS lace back and forth between the fire
escapes behind him, HISSING and SPUTTERING. The sound
fades, then stops altogether, to be replaced by a rising
scream of animal agony.
Reese lurches to his feet and sprints across the alley.
5A/FX OMITTED 5A/FX
6 OMITTED 6
7 EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT 7
CAMERA MOVES WITH REESE as he leaps to the fire escape and
clambers up to the first landing to crouch beside another
NAKED MAN who appears to be entangled in the ironwork. The
man is contorted with pain as his screams die to a shivering
gasp. CLOSER ANGLE reveals that he has been skewered through
the abdomen by the horizontal iron slats and through the
shoulder by a railing. He has materialized in the same
space occupied by the fire escape structure. The figure
Reese quickly checks for signs of life. The man is dead.
Reese descend to the alley floor and crosses to the drunk
huddled in the doorway.
A pair of flamboyantly dressed women, obviously working
girls, passes by the alley mouth. They do a double take
when they see Reese, but walk on without breaking stride,
completely jaded. He's certainly not a potential customer.
Reese crouches down as if to speak to the drunk.
Say, buddy...did you see a
real bright light?
8 EXT. ALLEY/SAME - NIGHT 8
A brilliant white glare stabs into the alley mouth as an
LAPD cruiser glides slowly by on the street. The search-
light illuminates the figure of Reese, crouching over the
sprawled drunk, just pulling on the other's trousers.
The cruiser chirps to a stop. The doors fly open and two
cops leap out.
Hold it, right there!
Reese hitches his pants and bolt like a shot. The cops
draw their guns and race into the alley after him.
HANDHELD CAMERA or PANAGLIDE, rushing with Reese along the
narrow alley. He vaults a pile of tumbled trashcans.
Whips around a corner. Leaps the hood of a parked car in
the cross alley.
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING COPS, as they snake through the night
9 EXT. CROSS ALLEY - NIGHT 9
PANAGLIDE WITH REESE as he hits a chain link gate at a
dead run and scrambles over it.
10 EXT. ALLEY JUNCTION - NIGHT 10
WHIP PAN ON COPS, skidding to a stop at the corner in time
to see Reese vault the fence. They separate.
DOLLY WITH SECOND COP, as he runs to the gate.
11 EXT. ALLEY/NEARBY - NIGHT 11
LOW PANAGLIDE WITH REESE, running full tilt, displaying
REESE'S POV, the alley walls blur by. The view of a hot-
wired rat in an urban maze.
C.U. - REESE, CAMERA hugging him as he sprints and turns,
alternately front-lit, side-lit and silhouetted as the
electric glare of the city wheels about him.
ANGLE - ALLEY MOUTH, Reese flashes though intermittent
cross-lighting in the B.G.
Another unit arrives out front and Reese melts back into
the alley, only to see a cop round the corner behind him.
Sandwiched. Reese crashes into a steel door, rending the
lock, and vanishes into the darkness within.
The newly arrived cops are a K-9 unit. They open the back
door of the squad car to release a large black Doberman.
12 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 12
Reese finds himself among the display racks of a discount
department store. A searchlight stabs in the front
window as he dashes into the maze of aisles.
Three cops enter behind him through the shattered door.
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH REESE, as he crab-runs low among the
moving shadows where flashlights quarter the darkness. He
bolts the open space behind a display window. Sees the
outside searchlight sweep toward him. Freezes.
ANGLE - REESE, his feral face frozen among the smooth-
featured, smiling mannequins. As the light passes, Reese
silently moves on.
ANGLE - COP, passing the end of a long aisle B.G. while in
the F.G. a hand ENTERS FRAME, removing a knit shirt from a
hanger. Reese slips the shirt on quietly and does a fast
crab-walk across the aisles to melt into the other racks
and shadows, CAMERA MOVING LOW with him.
13 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE/AISLE - NIGHT 13
With a shocking GROWL the police dog hurtles out of the
shadows, LEAPING RIGHT AT CAMERA.
ANGLE - REESE AND DOG, a dark blur with teeth, extremely
Doberman, flies toward Reese. He spins. Catches it by
the throat in mid-air. Arcs it to the floor with unflinching
C.U. - DOBERMAN, suddenly on its back and held by the throat,
THE DOG YELPS and stares at Reese, who leans very close.
Inches from its eyes he fixes it with a gaze of uncompromis-
ing dominance. Some ancient communication seems to pass
between the two.
Reese releases the animal and turns his back on it, selecting
a long overcoat from a rack. The dog backs away from him,
stiff-legged and confused.
14 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT 14
TRACKING WITH REESE as he rounds a corner on the run, still
shrugging into his long coat.
Running smack at him is another cop, gun aimed.
Without slowing, Reese leaps toward him, twisting in mid-air
like a cat. The cop FIRES. Misses. Goes down under Reese's
tackle and they slide together on the polished floor.
Before they even come to rest Reese snatches the cop's gun,
aiming it at the other's face two-handed.
What day is it? The date...
A SHOT whines off the metal side of an escalator behind
Reese's head. He vaults the escalator rail, leaving the
amazed cop lying on the floor.
Reese bounds up the frozen steps, pocketing the .38 Police
Special in his coat.
Cops dash through the maze of aisles, converging at the
15 INT. DEPARTMENT STORE/SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT 15
WHIP PANNING WITH REESE, as he hurtles between displays.
He stops for a moment beside a rack of shoes. Slaps one of
a pair of tennis shoes sole-to-sole against his bare foot.
Too small. Another. Holding the shoes he runs on.
16 EXT. SECOND FLOOR FIRE ESCAPE LANDING - NIGHT 16
A door opens quietly and Reese slips out.
CAMERA TRACKS WITH HIM as he moves like a panther along the
narrow catwalk. TILT DOWN to include the first LAPD cruiser
parked at the mouth of the alley.
17 EXT. ALLEY/STREET - NIGHT 17
Reese drops cat-like beside the unattended police car.
Cautiously, he opens the door of the cruiser, removes the
RIOT GUN, an Ithaca pump model, from the dash rack and slips
it under his coat. Cradled in a vertical position, the
shortened weapon is virtually invisible.
He walks out onto the street and away, unhurriedly, an
innocuous pedestrian soon lost in the rain.
18 EXT. STREET/NEARBY - NIGHT 18
Reese enters a telephone booth. Harsh light rakes across
his face, outlining the long scar. He opens the directory,
leafs through it.
ANGLE - MACRO ON PAGE, Reese's finger slides down a column.
Stops beside the following listings in the big metropolitan
CONNOR, SARAH ANN
CONNOR, SARAH J.
19 EXT. CITY STREET - MORNING 19
The night's rain has given way to a typical L.A. morning
of diffuse sunlight.
MOVING WITH A GIRL on a MOPED as she zips through traffic.
SARAH CONNER is 19, small and delicate-featured. Pretty in
a flawed, accessible way. She doesn't stop the party when
she walks in, but you'd like to get to know her. Her vulner-
able quality masks a strength even she doesn't know exists.
Sarah maneuvers nimbly, apparently in a hurry.
20 EXT. BIG BOB'S RESTRAUNT - DAY 20
Sarah buzzes into the parking lot of Big Bob's Family
Restaurant and chains the moped to the icon of Big Bob
himself. The fiberglass cherub holds up his mammoth
hamburger in perpetual homage to whatever deity watches
out for fat kids.
Sarah removes a stack of college textbooks from the luggage
carrier and tuns to go into the restaurant.
(to Big Bob)
Watch this for me, big buns.
21 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA 21
HIGH WIDE SHOT prominently featuring a VIDEO SURVEILLANCE
CAMERA F.G. as Sarah enters below. She passes under another
video eye as she crosses the main floor of the wholesomely
appointed eatery. Sarah goes through the swinging STAFF
doors under a third camera.
22 INT. MANAGER'S OFFICE 22
The office is closet-like, lit by the glow of several
security monitors. CHUCK BREEN, day manager, pimply and
officious,watches Sarah in an overhead view of the service
corridor. He punches a switch and reaches for a microphone
on a studio gooseneck.
23 INT. SERVICE CORRIDOR 23
Sarah glances up as Breen's voice rasps from a ceiling speaker.
She answers the empty hallway.
Come to the office, please.
She turns back toward the office door at the end of the
24 MANAGER'S OFFICE 24
Sarah opens the door to Breen's closet control center.
Mission control to Chuck,
Sarah is undaunted.
Aren't I worth waiting for?
Not really. Do you think you
can get here on time if I put
you on the floor as a waitress?
I don't know. I kinda had
my heart set on being a
cashier the rest of my life.
The pay's the same but you'll
make more in tips.
Thanks, Chuck. I need the
money. Can I still work the
hours around my classes?
Breen turns to punch up a display on the restaurant's
small accounting computer. Sarah looks over his shoulder
as he modifies the week's schedule.
Mmm. Same schedule's okay.
Can you handle it?
It's not brain surgery,
Breen hands her an apron ceremoniously.
Here you go. You're a
Bob's Girl now. Nancy
will check you out.
I won't let the fat kid down.
25 OMITTED 25
26 INT. LOCKER ROOM - DAY 26
ANGLE - TIGHT ON LOCKER DOOR as it slams shut, revealing
Sarah transformed into a "Bob's Girl".
Her hair is in a bun.
White blouse. Short flared skirt and apron with a bow.
She resembles a suburbanized peasant maid looking for a
goat to milk.
Sarah confronts her reflection in the mirror, pondering
She pinches her sheeks.
Hi, I'm Sarah and I'll be
I'm so wholesome, I could
27 EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY 27
TIGHT ON CAR SIDE WINDOW, as a figure approaches, reflected
in the glass. A fist punches through the window, shattering
it. The thief unlocks the door and gets behind the wheel.
28 INT. YELLOW MAVERICK - DAY 28
With a blow from the heel of his hand Terminator smashes loose
the ignition assembly and strips the wires with a brutal
twist of his fingers. Touching the proper wires he starts
28A EXT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 28A
Terminator walks past the long display window of an
enormous pawnshop emporium. Signs declare, among other
things, GUNS and AMMO is red block letters.
Terminator passes the appliance section, and the pictures
on a row of TV sets distort and break-up sequentially as
he walks by, returning to normal behind him.
He enters the store.
29 INT. PAWN SHOP - DAY 29
TIGHT ON GLASS COUNTERTOP as an AR-180 ASSAULT RIFLE WITH
SCOPE is laid beside a number of other guns: a COLT K-
MODEL .45 ACP, a SMITH AND WESSON .38 FOUR-INCH, a BERETTA
...the Remington 1100 Autoloader...
WIDE as the CLERK, who looks like a sick lizard, pallid
and paunchy, takes the rifle from a wall rack. He lays it
beside the arsenal of perfectly legal anti-human artillery
already on the glass counter.
Terminator scans expressionlessly for additional selec-
A phased plasma pulse-laser in
the forty watt range...
Just what you see, pal.
He indicates the display case and wall racks with a
The Uzi 9 millimeter.
(setting it out)
You know your weapons, buddy.
Terminator examines each in turn, working the actions with
curt, precise movements.
Any one of them's ideal for
home defense. Which'll it be?
The clerk digs deep and finds a scrap of a smile.
Maybe I'll close early.
Cash or charge?
Instead of replying, Terminator takes a box of shotgun shells
from a stack on the display case.
Sorry, I can't sell the ammo
with the guns. You'll have
Terminator has calmly begun feeding the shells into the
You can't to that...
He raises the barrel and pulls the trigger. The gun THUNDERS.
30 EXT. GAS STATION/PHONE BOOTH - DAY 30
The yellow Maverick pulls to a stop beside a single phone
MOVING WITH TERMINATOR, as he gets out, walks to the booth
and rapidly pulls its occupant out by his greasy T-shirt,
flinging him backward into the parking lot. The guy is
bear-like, slab-handed, but Terminator doesn't even glance
back as he steps in to take the man's place.
31 PHONE BOOTH
A woman's voice, a faint reedy monologue, issues from the
Terminator leafs rapidly through the directory.
ANGLE - C.U. PAGES FLIPPING
ANGLE - MACRO SHOT, as Terminator's finger comes to rest
beside a now-familiar listing:
32 INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA
Sarah is bustling about, trying to service the start of
the dinner rush. In waitress parlance, she's 'in it'.
She runs the gauntlet between tables, precariously balancing
two full dinner plates on one arm and hand-carrying a
third. A customer tugs on her apron for attention and she
barely averts contributing the chili size to his wardrobe.
Honey, can I get that coffee
Yes sir, just a second.
She reaches her table after near collisions with a Mexican
busboy and two teenage girls doing cheerleading routines
Who gets the Burly Burger?
I ordered Barbecue Beef.
Does mine come with fires?
He's got the Barbecue Beef,
I've got a Chili-Beef Deluxe.
Okay, who gets the Burly Beef?
CUSTOMER AT NEXT TABLE
Miss, we're ready to order.
In the process of setting down all the plates Sarah knocks
over someone's water glass.
Oh, sorry. That's not real
leather, is it?
As she cleans up the spill, a kid at the next booth reaches
over and dumps a scoop of ice cream into the top pouch of
She stares down at the mess melting over her hard-earned
and sags with defeat. NANCY, a plump, gum-chewing waitress,
stops beside her to whisper.
Look at it this way: in a
hundred years, who's gonna
33 EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - DAY
ANGLE on a standard-issue L.A. suburban street with kids
racing Big Wheels B.G.
LOW ANGLE with the FRAME comprising a single house, toy-
littered lawn and mailbox. EXTREME F.G., by the curb, is
a CHILD'S PLASTIC TRUCK.
There is the sound of a CAR ENGINE approaching, and the
front of the yellow Maverick appears, stopping at the curb.
Its front tire CRUSHES the toy.
PANAGLIDE ON TERMINATOR, preceding him as he steps out of the
car, pauses by the mailbox to check the name, and strides
toward the house.
A YOUNG BOY, playing in the driveway, watches him pass. The
boy's DOG, a small Terrier, growls low and mean, crouching
back from Terminator.
He rings the doorbell and waits, motionless.
The door opens a few inches, held by a security chain,
revealing a frail MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN in apron and rubber
No, she's upstairs. Who
shall I say is--
Terminator breaks the chain and pushes past her as if she
33A INT. HOUSE/FOYER 33A
PANAGLIDE ON TERMINATOR, preceding his as he crosses the
foyer and mounts the stairs. The woman starts after him.
What do you think you're--
She gasps and stops in her tracks as Terminator smoothly
pulls the .45 from under his jacket and snaps the cocking
Oh my God...Sarah!
33B INT. BEDROOM 33B
Installed on her bed for an afternoon of 'soaps' is the
WRONG SARAH CONNOR. ELECTRODE PADS exercise her doughy
thighs as the 35 year old divorcee watches "GENERAL HOSPITAL".
She calls out distractedly:
WRONG SARAH CONNOR
What is it, Mom?
She jumps as the door BANGS open. And stares in dumb
amazement as the good-looking, intense-eyed man in the
strange clothes raises a pistol.
And aims it at her face.
It all seems less real than "GENERAL HOSPITAL" in that
half-second before he FIRES.
33C INT. FOYER 33C
The mother is fumbling with a telephone when she hears
the SHOT. The silence stretches for several BEATS. Then
FIVE MORE SHOTS are heard.
The woman screams and drops the phone as she stares upward.
ANGLE ON CEILING above her. With each successive shot a
chuck of plaster explodes off the ceiling.
33D INT. BEDROOM 33D
LOW ANGLE ON TERMINATOR, standing with the .45 aimed
down at the dead woman, just OUT OF FRAME on the floor.
He unhurriedly removes the spent clip, reloads the weapon
and replaces it under his jacket.
Crouching down, he turns the woman's body over, confirming
that she is dead.
33E INT. FOYER 33E
The mother is frantically dialing the phone. She mis-
dials, starts over. Then stops as she hears the bedroom
Terminator stands at the head of the stairs.
His hand is bloody where he grasped the dead woman's
He starts down the stairs.
The mother stands paralyzed, unable to breathe.
He reaches the main floor and walks toward her.
She edges into a corner, eyes wide.
He reaches out.
And wipes his hands clean on her apron.
Terminator walks out, without expression, leaving the
woman to sag to the floor in a faint.
34 INT./EXT. SERVICE TUNNEL - DAY 34
TIGHT ON KYLE REESE'S HANDS as they make the last few
strokes with a hacksaw to sever the wooden stock from
the riot gun. It clatters to the ground, leaving a short
stump, like a pistol grip.
CUT WIDER as Reese hefts the weapon. He is crouched in
an underground service tunnel below a busy street. Shadows
of people walking across a grating in the sidewalk above
him flicker past. They can't see him in the darkness below
their feet as he checks the gun's action carefully. He
slips it under his overcoat where it hangs from a jerry-
35 EXT. STREET - DAY 35
Reese emerges from a stairwell behind a service station,
his overcoat done up to the top button.
He walks through the sparse morning crowd on the cluttered,
overbuilt commercial street.
He is out of sync.
A stranger in a strange land.
He holds himself tightly reined, cautious and feral as he
moves among the unconcerned pedestrians.
His eyes flick rapidly about.
He is seeing this Babylon for the first time.
Reese stops at a hole-in-the-wall take-out stand. He
watches people walk away with food. Moves closer.
Scrutinizes the next man as he orders.
Gimme a falafel with yogurt
dressing and, uh, Baco-bits.
The counterman hands him his food and change wordlessly
as Reese steps up.
Gimme a falafel with, uh,
yogurt and Baco-bits.
The counterman barely looks up as he passes the mess
through the window.
That'll be one-sixty.
He glances up and Reese is gone. He leans half out the
35 EXT. ALLEY - DAY 35
Reese crouches in an alley, out of sight of passersby,
wolfing his food. The sauce runs down his sleeve but he
35A INT. BIG BOB'S/DINING AREA - DAY 35A
An old man with a shrunken, ungenerous face scowls at
the menu as Sarah wipes the tabletop in front of him.
I haven't seen you in here
lately, Mr. Miller.
What's it to ya?
You must have a girlfriend.
That's none of your business.
Aha! Is she young?
Mr. Miller lowers his menu and glares at her.
Compared to me she is. How
come you're not at the cash
anymore? They catch ya steal-
What's it to ya?
When she leaves, the old man is grinning, behind the menu,
where no one can see him.
36 INT. BIG BOB'S/SERVICE CORRIDOR 36
Sarah rounds the corner, walking fast as she undoes her
apron. She calls out to the walls without looking up.
I'm on break, Chuck. Carla's
got my station.
As she approaches the locker room where the girls take
their coffee breaks, the door bursts open and Nancy
beckons to Sarah.
Hurry up. It's about you...
I mean sort of...Come on!
37 INT. BIG BOB'S/BREAK ROOM 37
Nancy guides Sarah to the small black and white portable
TV in the corner. Two other girls, smoking cigarettes
with their shoes off and nyloned feet on the table, are
already watching. One glances at Sarah.
Hey, Sarah. This is weird.
They huddle around the set, intent on a newscast in progress.
...and a police spokesman at
the scene refused to speculate
on a motive for the execution-
style slaying of the Encino
housewife. He did however say
that an accurate description of
the suspect has been compiled
from several witnesses. Once
again, Sarah Connor, thirty-five,
mother of two, brutally shot to
death in her home this afternoon.
As the news grinds on, Sarah gazes unseeingly at the screen.
Nancy claps her on the shoulder, laughing.
You're dead, honey.
38 EXT. HEALTH CLUB - DUSK 38
Sunlight is dying when Sarah swings her moped to the curb
in front of the 'GOOD LIFE SPA', a large, crowded health
39 INT. HEALTH CLUB/AEROBICS STUDIO 39
MUSIC BOOMS and masses of leotarded cellulite sway in close
F.G. as CAMERA DOLLIES along a row of panting, stretching
women. In deep B.G. Sarah slips in through the door and
waits against the wall while the human dynamo, GINGER VENTURA,
leads the class energetically. Ginger, Sarah's roommate,
is a party-stopper. Red-haired, athletic, sensuous. She's
pretty enough when still, but stunning in motion. And she's
Ginger yells commands and cheerfully dives into contortions
to the BEAT of a MOTOWN FAVORITE.
MARCO, a handsome, well-defined guy wearing a tight STAFF
T-shirt, strolls up for a drink at the water fountain next
Hi. I've seen you around.
You're cute. Cute I remember.
I'm Sarah. Ginger's roommate.
Yeah, right. I'm Marco.
The dance tape ends.
...and three aaand four! And
that's it ladies! Now, didn't
that feel good?
The group collapses ensemble. A chorus of groans.
Let's think positive or next
time I'll play the FM version.
Ginger walks over to Sarah as the class disperses. Marco
is leaning on the wall next to Sarah, who is enjoying the
...yeah, really? Say some-
thing in Italian.
Before Marco can reply, Ginger pulls the front of his gym
shorts out and peers down. She shakes her head.
You're wasting your time, kiddo.
She grabs Sarah by the arm and pulls her out the door.
Sarah catches a glimpse of Marco's expression over her
shoulder as the door closes.
40 INT. HEALTH CLUB/STAIRS AND CORRIDOR 40
PANAGLIDE WITH THE TWO GIRLS, as they descend to the first
floor and enter a hallway
Sarah is gasping with laughter.
I don't believe you did that.
Ginger is adjusting her ever-present WALKMAN-TYPE CASSETTE
PLAYER at her hip. She slips on the earphones as they walk
Sarah feigns outrage.
I had him hooked. He was
just about to ask me out.
I could tell.
That guy's a jerk. I did
you a favor.
I'll do the same for you
Sarah laughs and claps her friend on the back. They turn
in at a door marked WEIGHT ROOM.
41 INT. WEIGHT ROOM 41
SEVERAL ANGLES, on glistening arms, legs, torsos merging
into bio-mechanical kinetic sculptures with the chrome-steel
levers and tubes. The CRASH and SQUEAL of metal against
In F.G., two Conan-esque arms thrust upward, glistening.
Ginger's boyfriend, MATT McCALLISTER, the assistant manager
of the club, strains out his last reps, bench-pressing
enormous weight on the Nautilus machine.
Despite his imposing appearance, Matt is one of the warmest
people you'd ever want to meet.
His face is contorted, muscles knotted for the last push.
He heaves it up with a guttural cry.
Lowering his weights with a CLANG, Matt lies panting, arms
dangling at his side, eyes closed.
A pair of female legs appear.
What's this? Sleep therapy?
Matt opens his eyes.
You think somebody's gonna
do this for you? Look at
those shriveled bi's. And
you haven't worked lat's or
ab's since Wednesday.
Hello, sweetheart. Had a
Come here, wimp.
She leans down as he sits up and they meet in a kiss that's
bad for the other guys' discipline.
Sarah waits until they break the clinch to speak.
Matt look backwards over the bench, and replies, upside-down.
Heeey! It's my favorite
Sarah. Hi, babe.
Ginger pulls the pin on Mat's weights and re-inserts it
beneath the entire stack, the maximum weight.
Alright, warm-ups are over.
Back to work, Bunky.
Ginger readadjusts her headphones as the two girls walk away.
'Bye beautiful. You too,
Two weightlifters nearby look at each other, than at Matt.
42 EXT. HEALTH CLUB/STREETS - DUSK 42
Sarah lurches away from the curb on her moped, almost
spilling Ginger who is attempting to ride double. They
swing out onto a main thoroughfare and careen through
the bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Sarah maneuvers deftly though overloaded and unstable.
Ginger doesn't know whether to laugh of scream at the
She does both.
43 OMITTED 43
44 EXT. STREET/CONSTRUCTION SIGHT - DUSK
On a side street the girls pass an excavation site between
high-rises. They pass OUT OF FRAME as CAMERA HOLDS on the
construction area and Ginger's shrieks fade.
In the F.G., under an overpass, Reese sits is a car watching
the powerful machines moving earth.
He's in a late-model non-descript GREY SEDAN, one of a row
of cars gathering dirt beside the construction site.
Crab-armed back-hoes and massive caterpillars ROAR through
a curtain of dust, under intense floodlights. A power-shovel
moves its great arm, lighting its own way with an arc-light.
45 INT. GREY SEDAN 45
Reese sits motionless in the dark. Waiting. The clock in
the dash ticks quietly.
He flips on the radio. A fatuous POP ROCK STATION.
Reese fishes a magazine off the dirty floor. His over-
coat is off, draped over the shotgun on the seat beside
His bare arms are sinewy and scarred.
Reese flips the page of COSMOPOLITAN.
He look at the glossy photos, the glossy women.
Fantasy women. Svelte and seamless.
The ads fascinate him too: Caribbean vacations and blended
His head sags against the door.
He gazes dully at the tracks of a passing CATERPILLAR as they
chew through the dirt.
The ROAD and CLATTER of treads intensifies as his eyes close.
46 EXT. MELTED RUINS - NIGHT 46
TIGHT ON A GLEAMING STEEL TREAD as it grinds through debris.
The debris is ferroconcrete, girders, and jackstraw heaps of
HUMAN BONES, burned black.
There is the sound of EXPLOSIONS, distant, and an intermittent
electronic WHINE. Incredibly bright searchlights play over
the ground. PANNING with the moving treads through twisted
The screen WHITES OUT with a BLAST, very close. As the
debris clatters down, a helmetted head snaps up into FRAME,
The visor of the HIGH-TECH HELMET is shattered, presumably
by the explosion. The wearer rips it off, revealing a
younger Reese, minus his burn scar.
His face is bathed in sweat, lit by the glow from a CRT
SCOPE-SIGHT on a strange-looking rifle.
The sound of SCREAMS and HOARSE SHOUTS not far off, and a
continuous low murmuring of RADIO CHATTER, grid coordinates,
casualties, unit placements, medic requests.
Reese looks over his shoulder at his teammate, a GIRL
of about sixteen, gaunt, dirty, heavily armed like himself.
DOLLYING as they start to belly crawl through the bones
Reese looks up.
Through spires of a collapsed building a terrifying
SPHINX-LIKE SHAPE moves against the sky...obscured by dust
and blinding sweeps of its searchlights.
Though we see little, this is an H-K,Hunter-Killer
Reese crawls, pacing the H-K, under and through, on elbows
and knees, past mounds of charred skulls. They
pass the BODY OF A CHILD, a boy of about 10, center-
punched with a smoking hole. The boy clutches a rifle.
More bodies. Some in rags, some in uniforms like theirs.
WOMEN. OLD MEN. CHILDREN. They're all dirty and gaunt,
scabrous. And still bleeding. Reese scrabbles past a
dark rat-hole and there are human rats in it. Some of them
are sobbing, or screaming.
The GLARE lights the huddled few.
Human vermin with mud-caked weapons that haven't been
invented yet. Soldiers in a nightmare war.
Reese and his teammate stop behind a blasted wall, having
outflanked the massive H-K. Its flashing blue lights flick
across the walls, its searchlights sear through the
WIDER, showing the H-K more clearly...a blast-scarred
CHROME LEVIATHON, with hydraulic arms folded mantis-like
against its 'torso', and huge underslung GUN TURRETS.
Reese leaps up and straight-arms a satchel-charge into its
path. One tread rolls over the explosive.
Guns and searchlights swivel. The head turns ponderously.
Reese's partner rises, poised to throw hers.
A POWER-BOLT catches her at the top of her arc, BLOWING
HER INTO RED MIST.
Reese is knocked down by the concussion. Gets up, running,
as the charges blow.
The H-K's tread carriers are RIPPED APART.
It lurches to a stop, burning.
The following SEQUENCE is extremely FORESHORTENED.
CUT FAST. IMPRESSIONS ONLY.
Explosions light the ruins like flashbulbs.
ENERGY WEAPONS criss-cross the night like tracers.
LOW ANGLE, up past the burning H-K as its flying counter-
part, an AERIAL H-K, arcs into view with a TURBOJET WHINE.
Reese hauls two survivors of his unit into a PERSONNEL
CARRIER, a CHEVY CAMARO with steel plate welded over it and
the roof cut away to access the 50 CALIBER MACHINE GUN.
It's stripped and rusted and bullet-riddled, glassless.
The TIRES are OFF-ROAD and very gnarly.
They're driving through the ruins, up and over and through.
Reese drives like a demon. Under other circumstances it
would be considered insane. Here it is merely very good.
The machine gun CHATTERS.
A BLACK SHAPE descends, a demon with searchlights.
A BOLT OF LIGHT.
Reese's car flips like a kicked beer can, rolling and
crumpling. He's pinned in the wreck, bloody, screaming
despite his training. The only other survivor, an
emaciated BOY of twelve, is pulling for all he's worth
to drag Reese out before it burns.
47 EXT. STREET/GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 47
CLOSE ON A BOY, about twelve, clean and healthy, wearing
a blue plastic DODGERS HELMET. He reaches through the
window of the sedan.
48 INT. GREY SEDAN 48
Reese's eyes open in a split-second, and suddenly there
is a SHOTGUN MUZZLE AIMED RIGHT AT US.
Reese quivers with a curious spasm, similar to the tremors
of his arrival, and blinks at the boy.
The boy is white-faced, staring down the bore. He backs
away. We see that he is straddling a bicycle.
49 EXT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 49
The boy's SISTER, slightly younger and also on a bicycle,
can't see the shotgun from where she's waiting.
See, I told you he wasn't
dead. You owe me Baskin
The boy rides past her list a shot.
Come on. Just come on.
50 INT. GREY SEDAN 50
Reese relaxes slowly, the voltage draining out of him.
INSERT - MACRO, Reese's finger on the trigger is white
with pressure. He slips the safety to the OFF position.
The gun can now be fired.
He sets it on the seat and reaches for the dangling ignition
wires, starting the car.
51 EXT. STREET/OVERPASS - NIGHT 51
Lit by streetlights, the car moves away with it lights
off and vanishes in the shadows.
52 OMITTED 52
53 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT 53
Sarah and Ginger are crammed into the tiny bathroom,
becoming inextricably tangled in each other's cords as
they blow-dry, curl hair, and apply make-up. Ginger
has her headphones inverted under her chin but in place,
and is bouncing to music as she dries her hair. She is
wearing a short terry-cloth bathrobe that reveals the
greater part of her legs. Sarah is in a skirt and bra.
The phone rings and Sarah goes out into the living room
to get it.
(on phone, deep
First I'm going to rip the
buttons off your blouse, one
by one...then run my tongue
along your neck, down to your
bare, gleaming breasts...
Sarah cups her hand over the mouthpiece and calls out
Ginger! It's Matt.
She resumes listening.
...and then slowly pull your
jeans off inch by inch and
lick your belly in circles,
further and further down...
then I'll pull off your panties
with my teeth...
Sarah is repressing laughter.
Who is this?
Silence. Then Matt realizes to his horror who he's been
Oh my God! Sarah! Oh, shit.
Jesus, I'm sorry. I thought
you were...Can I talk to Ginger?
As Ginger approaches, Sarah hands her the receiver and
goes into the bedroom.
First I'm gonna rip the buttons
off your blouse...
Sarah picks up four blouses on hanger lying on the bed
and goes back into the hallway.
55 INT. LIVING ROOM
Ginger is still listening to Matt, nodding, as Sarah enters
and starts holding the blouses against herself one by one
for Ginger's inspection.
What do you think?
Sarah hold up another one.
How about this?
You're a big help.
Alright, the beige one.
I hate the beige one.
Don't wear the beige one.
Sarah gathers up the blouses and walks out.
This guy's probably a schmuck
and I don't care what I wear.
A couple of BEATS, and she's back in the doorway with
a concerned expression.
You think the beige?
56 EXT. VENICE STREET - NIGHT
An unmarked car with a clamp-on light and siren blaring
screeches to the curb behind two marked black-and-whites
in front of a funky Venice apartment building. A small
crowd is gathered around the front steps. LIEUTENANT
ED VUKOVICH, Homicide Division, gets out of the car and
strides through the crowd. He's fiftyish, short, but
square and solid, a human bulldog gone a little to paunch.
He chews Juicy Fruit gum like a maniac: a chain-chewer.
He's homely as an old boot. And he's not a smart cop, he's
a wise one; rarer still. The onlookers, gathered patiently
for their ten second glimpse of something under a sheet,
separate for him to pass.
57 INT. VENICE APARTMENT BUILDING/STAIRWELL/APARTMENT
CAMERA PANAGLIDES AHEAD OF VUKOVICH, as he climbs the switch-
back staircase two steps at a time. He passes TWO UNIFORMED
COPS at the doorway of a second-floor apartment, and enters
to find a quiet flurry of activity. Several DETECTIVES and
a PHOTOGRAPHER prowl around, taking evidence, taking pictures.
In the center of the living room floor is the body of a
young woman, crumpled face down in a small lake of blood.
Two bags of groceries lie split open on the floor in front
Vukovich glances up as he is joined by DETECTIVE SGT.
TRAXLER. Traxler is black, lean and very jaded.
Give me the short version.
Six shots at less than ten
feet. Weapon was a large
Vukovich is looking at the body.
Traxler turns to a passing DETECTIVE.
Come on. man. Don't track
it all over. It's un-
He turn back to Vukovich, gesturing at the body.
Okay, let's see...Got a pos-
itive on her. She's Sarah
Connor, works as a legal--
That can't be right. That's
the name of the one Valley
Division mopped up this after-
Traxler slips something off his clipboard and hands
it to the Lieutenant.
Here's her driver's license.
You gotta be kidding me. The
new guys'll be short-stroking
it over this one. A one-day
I hate the weird ones.
58 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BATHROOM 58
Sarah poses with Ginger in front of the mirror. They are
dressed, made-up, hair-styled and READY.
Better than mortal man deserves.
Sarah grins and goes into the other room.
59 INT. LIVING ROOM
Sarah walks around the room, searching for something.
Ginger, have you seen Pugsley?
Ginger enters, stopping beside their phone answering machine.
Not lately. Did you check
I thought you did.
She checks under the couch, then behind the drapes. She
(from beside cur-
Come here young man. Mind
C.U. - PUGSLEY, as the GREEN IGUANA cocks its head, blinking
RESUME WIDE, Sarah lifts the three foot long lizard from his
perch on the windowsill. She gives the complacent reptile
a kiss on its blunt snout.
Sarah drapes the lizard across her shoulders where it sits
contentedly as she looks for her purse. Ginger has been
rewinding the message tape. She punches PLAY and a MALE
VOICE is heard.
Hi, Sarah...Stan Morsky.
Uh, something's come up and
it looks like I won't be able
to make it tonight. I'm really
sorry. Call you in a day or so.
Sarah stands still, crestfallen.
That bum. So what if he has
a Porsche, he can't treat you
like that...it's Friday night
I'll break his kneecaps.
Sarah resignedly slips Pugsley off her shoulders.
You still love me, don't
She places Pugsley in a large terrarium with a 'BEWARE OF
DOG' sign taped on the side.
I'm going to a movie, kiddo.
See ya'. You and Matt have
a good time.
(as Sarah exits)
We will, kiddo.
60 INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT
Sarah is a small figure in the shadowed echoing garage of
CONVERGING DOLLY, PACING HER, as she passes the stalls with
their inky shadows.
The light near her moped is out.
She fumbles in the dark to unlock the chain.
She looks up.
Did she hear something...masked by the rattle of the chain?
POV - SARAH, there is no movement for the length of the
ON SARAH - C.U., inexplicably nervous.
She stows the chain and starts the bike. It whines
Sarah jumps on and whirs out of the garage.
61 INT. CAR/NEARBY - NIGHT 61
Sarah is visible through the windshield as she pulls onto
PAN WITH HER to reveal Kyle Reese, hunched down in shadow,
watching. He puts the car in gear and pulls out to follow
her receding tail-light.
Streetlights flash across his face, in stark-lines profile.
Mouth cruel where the scar tugs at it.
62 INT. DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT 62
DOLLYING WITH VUKOVICH and TRAXLER, as they pass through a
group of REPORTERS. Mostly newspaper stringers but there
is also one bored local TV MINICAM CREW.
...Lieutenant, are you aware
that these two killings occurred
in the same order as their listings
in the phone book?
He and Traxler enter their office and shut the door.
63 VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 63
Vukovich drops his gun in the wastebasket, picks up a cup
of coffee from his desk and uses it to wash down a handful
of aspirins. Traxler grimaces.
That stuff's two hours cold.
I put a cigarette out in it.
Vukovich, lost in thought, turns on him suddenly.
Did you reach the next girl
No. Keep getting an answer-
Send a unit.
I already did. No answer at
the door and the apartment
manager's out. I'm keeping
I just called.
Call her again.
Traxler picks up the phone and begins to dial her number
as Vukovich sets down his coffee cup, unwraps a stick of
gum and pops it in his mouth.
Got a cigarette?
64 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 64
CLOSE ON PHONE, connected to the answering machine. The
outgoing message trigger after the second ring.
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're
talking to a machine, but don't
by shy, it's okay. Machines need
love too, so talk to it and Ginger,
that's me, or Sarah will get back
to you. Wait for the beep.
As the message plays, CAMERA DOLLIES OFF the phone machine
and down the corridor of the dark apartment. As the bedroom
door draws near, Ginger's recorded voice fades and is super-
ceded by CRIES and MOANS.
65 INT. BEDROOM 65
FULL SHOT, framed against the streetlit curtains, Ginger and
Matt from a beautiful tableau of lovemaking in silhouette.
Their perfect bodies glisten with backlight as they strain
CLOSER - TIGHT TWO, revealing that Ginger is wearing her
earphones. Matt, without breaking rhythm, reaches out to
the night table and thumbs the volume higher.
Ginger cries out louder, apparently enjoying his sure touch
on her volume control.
66 INT. DIVISION HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT 66
Traxler hangs up the phone.
I can hear it now, it's gonna
be the goddamned 'Phone Book
I hate the press cases.
Especially the weird press
cases. Where you going?
To make a statement. I'm gonna
give them the name. Maybe the
jackals can help us out for
He looks at his watch, then straightens his tie.
If they can get this on the
tube by eleven, she may just
How do I look?
Like shit, boss.
Vukovich goes out and the Minicam light hits him as the
67 INT. PIZZA PARLOR - NIGHT 67
TIGHT ON A TV SCREEN, a news cast in progress.
...police had no further comment
on the apparent similarity between
the shooting death of an Encino
woman earlier today...
CUT WIDE to show Sarah watching the TV which is suspended
over the bar. The place is a crowded, post-movie hangout,
raucous with laughter and videogames. The newscast
continues, ignored by all except Sarah.
...and this almost identical
killing two hours ago of a
Venice resident with virtually
the same name. Sarah Ann Connor,
a 24 year old legal secretary, was
pronounced dead at the scene in
her beachfront apartment...
A customer gestures for the bartender's attention.
Hey, can we change this and
catch the ball scores.
(reaching for the
Sarah leaps half over the bar, startling everyone.
Leave it where it is!
...no other connections between
the two victims has been estab-
On a lighter note, these was
cause for celebration at the
L.A. Zoo today, as...
Sarah leaves her half-finished pizza and beer, getting up
in a daze. Followed by puzzles glances, she makes her way
through the crowd.
68 INT. PIZZA PARLOR HALLWAY 68
In the crowded hallway by the restrooms, Sarah goes to the
single payphone and seizes the directory. She flips rapidly
through it, then stops, looking down.
She sees that her name is next on the list.
The book slips out of her fingers.
Sarah turns and scans the crowd.
She's getting looks, covert and otherwise, like any unaccom-
panied girl on a Friday night. But is that all they mean?
Sarah back into the women's restroom.
69 INT. RESTROOM 69
Sarah stumbles numbly to the sink.
She splashes her face with cold water. In the mirror
her terrified reflection looks back. Why me?
She hears a loud clatter and spins around.
It's just a drunken woman fumbling with a toilet stall door.
Sarah edges back out into the corridor.
70 INT. HALLWAY 70
Sarah walks stiffly to the pay phone.
It's OUT OF ORDER.
71 EXT. STREET/SIDEWALK - NIGHT 71
Sarah exits the pizza place into the sparse crowd on the
sidewalk. As she passes a figure leaning against the wall
just outside, the man turns his head to watch her.
It is Reese, his gaze impassive.
Streetlight catches the burn scar on his cheek.
He is motionless, sinister in his long coat.
She walks on.
POV - SARAH, ON CROWD, moving toward and through approaching
groups of pedestrians. They seem to be glancing at her.
Was it always like that and she just never noticed?
C.U. - SARAH as she look over her shoulder.
POV - SARAH, ON PIZZA PARLOR DOORWAY. Reese is gone.
She resists the urge to run.
On the opposite side of the street an LAPD cruiser glides
slowly by. Sarah is about to call out but a bus blocks
her view and when it had passed, the car is turning away
down a side street.
She passes a large window with STOKER'S written on it, and
ducks quickly through the door.
72 INT. STOKER'S - NIGHT 72
ANGLE THROUGH WINDOW, SARAH F.G., as Reese approaches.
Her knuckles clench white as he reaches the entrance and
walks by, unhurriedly, without a glance inside.
She turns and scan the gloomy interior, which reveals itself
to be less than savory. Pool tables and upper-middle lowlife
in submarine depths of smoky haze.
Sarah draws stares, menacing in their own right, as she
weaves between the pool tables to the back of the bar.
her hands are trembling as she drops a dime in the pay
phone and dials.
You have reached the Los Angeles
Police Department Emergency Number.
All lines are busy. If you need
a police car sent out to you, please
stay on the line...
Sarah holds the receiver pressed to her ear, glancing
around, fear feeding on frustration.
73 EXT. SARAH'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT 73
An LAPD black-and-white sits at the curb in front of Sarah's
building with two cops inside, drinking coffee. Through
the open window we hear the dispatcher's voice on the
...two eleven in progress at
Seven-Eleven market, Third and
Tamarac. One suspect believed
to be armed...
The car pulls out with lights and siren on.
A moment later, Terminator rounds the corner of the building
and climbs the stairs to the entryway.
He surveys the bank of call buttons, then turns to consider
the barred security gate.
74 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 74
PANAGLIDE WITH GINGER as she ties her terry-cloth robe and,
leaving Matt in a dead sleep, pads through the dark apartment.
Down the hall, past the phone with Traxler's message.
Through the dark living room.
She has her Walkman in the pocket of her robe and bops to
herself in the silent gloom as she enters the kitchen.
When she opens the refrigerator to remove snack fixings, the
light briefly illuminates the kitchen and in that moment,
SOMETHING MOVES in the F.G.
TIGHT ON GINGER, MOVING WITH HER as she backs toward the
counter with her arms full of snack stuff.
A SUDDEN CRASH. A flurry of motion behind her.
She spins, dropping half her load.
Ginger fumbles for the lightswitch.
Revealing Pugsley, sitting there blinking innocently among
overturned spice bottles on the counter-top.
Shoo. Go on. I'll make a
belt out of you.
Pugsley disappears into a large fern by the window and Ginger
sets about her task, slathering crunchy peanut butter on
stalks of celery.
75 INT. BEDROOM 75
MEDIUM ON MATT, as rustling curtains play patterns of street-
light over his sleeping face.
The sound of a faint breeze.
In the B.G. is the balcony, empty. The sliding door is open.
TIGHT ON MATT, as his eyes open at the sound of a quiet,
UP ANGLE - PAST MATT, as the five-inch blade of an industrial
razor-knife reaches full extension in Terminator's hand,
right above him.
It slashes viciously downward.
Matt rolls and the pillow is SLIT OPEN where his throat had
Terminator catches him by the hair and slashed down again.
Matt grabs the wrist in both hands.
The enormous muscles of his arms, which seem capable of bench
pressing a Chrysler, strain and knot against the pressure of
the killer's single arm...
And still the blade moves closer to his throat.
With a final heave Matt deflects the down-pressure sideways
and the blade snaps with a CLINK against the headboard.
HANDHELD WITH MATT as he rolls off the bed, spins and slams
his fists together into Terminator's temple. He picks up a
brass deco lamp and brings it down with piledriver force.
Unperturbed, Terminator knocks the lamp away and hurls Matt
over the bed.
76 EXT. BALCONY - NIGHT 76
Matt crashes through the glass doors and slams against the
77 INT. KITCHEN 77
Oblivious to the noise, Ginger croons in rock-and-roll
ecstasy, singing to a celery stalk as if it were a micro-
78 EXT./INT. BALCONY AND BEDROOM - NIGHT 78
Matt heaves himself up, powerful body gleaming with sweat
and hurls himself upon the intruder.
The titans CRASH INTO A DRESSER, reducing it to kindling.
Then into the closet door, EXPLODING THE FULL-LENGTH MIRROR.
Terminator places one hand on either side of Matt's barrel
chest. SINKS HIS FINGERS INTO THE FLESH. An inhuman grip.
Matt is raised off the floor, contorted with agony, above
the other's head.
79 INT. HALLWAY 79
DOLLY PRECEDING GINGER as she returns from the kitchen with
a plate full of celery stalks and a glass of milk. CAMERA
passes the closed bedroom door and STOPS, as Ginger pauses
to set the plate on top of the glass, freeing one hand to
open the door.
AN EXPLOSION OF SPLINTERS in close F.G. as a shape smashes
through the door right in front of her...Matt's body
propelled halfway through the door by enormous force.
Ginger shrieks and leaps back, flinging milk and all into
The door begins to open the pressure of Matt's body
Ginger SCREAMS and back away.
The door is wrenched open and Terminator steps through with
the massive .45 drawn.
HANDHELD WITH GINGER, the walls blur by as she runs.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR as the pistol RISES INTO FRAME, aligning
with his eyes. BOOM!
LOW FAST DOLLY WITH GINGER as the bullet punches into her
shoulder, pitching her on her face outside the bathroom door.
LOW WIDE ANGLE as she crawls forward, gasping, drowning.
The implacable figure looms behind her.
Her expression is agony and reeling, nauseating terror.
And incomprehension: Why am I suddenly dying?
Her eyes roll, showing the whites, like a horse tethered in
a burning stable.
80 INT. BATHROOM 80
Ginger scrabbles pathetically for a grip on the tile floor
as she pulls herself into the bathroom.
She clutches the rim of the toilet.
LOW ANGLE PAST HER, ON TERMINATOR, as he stands behind her.
PAN UP, off her. He takes aim.
And empties the clip.
He calmly reloads.
81 INT. HALLWAY/BEDROOM 81
CLOSE ON PHONE MACHINE, as the telephone rings loudly in the
Terminator spins, drawing an instantaneous bead on the source
of the sound, but doesn't fire.
Ha ha ha, fooled you. You're
talking to a machine...
C.U. - TERMINATOR, motionless, listening.
...but don't be shy, it's okay.
Machines need love too...
Terminator turns abruptly back to Ginger's body. He turns
it over, assuring himself that she is dead.
...so talk to it and Ginger, that's
me, or Sarah will get back to you.
Wait for the beep.
There is a loud tone and the incoming call is heard.
Ginger, this is Sarah...
Terminator's head snaps back and he freezes, listening.
He rises slowly as Sarah's voice continues.
TIGHT ON HIS UNBLINKING EYES.
(on machine, contin-
...I'm in this sleazy bar called
Stoker's on Pico but I'm too
scared to leave. I'm really
82 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 82
Sarah cups the telephone's mouthpiece with her hand and
glances around frequently.
...I think somebody's after me
and I sure hope you play this
soon 'cause I need you and Matt
to come pick me up. The police
keep transferring me around, but
I'm going to try them again.
83 INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT/BEDROOM - NIGHT 83
The number here is 468-9175.
Call me, kiddo. I need you.
It's Stoker's on Pico. Bye.
Terminator is rapidly and methodically rifling the contents
of Sarah's small desk. SIREN'S WAIL, approaching.
He picks up a small card.
E.C.U. - CARD. It is Sarah's college I.D. card, complete with
color photo of her.
MACRO ON PICTURE.
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR'S EYES as he tosses the card down,
after a fraction of a second's scan. Picks up something else.
TIGHT ON SARAH'S ADDRESS BOOK, Terminator pockets this and
slips out the balcony door. Climbing over the railing, he
84 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 84
Sarah is huddled, back to the wall, beside the phone.
(on phone, upset)
Vukovich, don't put me on
hold and don't transfer me
to another department...
85 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 85
I won't. Now just relax.
Where are you?
Yeah, I know it...on Pico.
Are you alright?
86 INT. STOKER'S BAT - NIGHT 86
Yes, but I don't want to
leave. I think this guy's
87 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 87
Alright, Ms. Connor. Listen
carefully. You're in a public
place, you'll be safe 'til we
get there. Stay visible.
Don't go outside or in the
restroom. I'll be there in
a few minutes.
He hangs up and grabs his coat, motioning to Traxler.
88 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 88
Sarah takes a seat at a booth near the bar, and picks up
a dog-eared menu, but can't concentrate on it. She looks
at her watch and glances around.
89 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 89
The yellow Maverick hurtles along an empty street.
CLOSER ANGLE as streetlight glare slashes across Terminator's
face in flaring pulses.
90 INT. PLAIN CAR - NIGHT 90
Vukovich draws his Colt Python .357 Magnum and check the
load. Traxler is driving.
Let's see how this guy likes
91 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 91
The waitress set a cup of coffee in front of Sarah.
Sarah shakes her head "No" and contemplates her trembling
hands. She half-turns, catching a glimpse of herself in
the mirror behind the bar.
TIGHT ON SARAH, reflected in the mirror. In the F.G. a
man at the bar looks up from his beer, straight into her eyes.
It is Reese.
He gazes at her coolly for a moment, then glances away.
C.U. - SARAH, feeling trapped, frantic.
ANGLE ON FRONT DOOR as it opens and a figure stands silhou-
etted briefly against a streetlight.
Reese turns, his eyes flickering to the mirror, the figure.
C.U. - REESE as he mechanically raises his beer. His knuckles
are white. He slowly undoes the top button of his overcoat.
There is a glint of metal in the shadows within.
Reese turns slowly on his barstool as the figure brushes past
him, out-of-focus F.G.
Sarah looks up.
E.C.U. - REESE'S HAND sliding slowly along polished steel,
a caress. His finger slips through the triggerguard of the
MEDIUM ON SARAH, as the man stops in front of her in close F.G.
He sits slowly in the booth opposite her. The angle is OVER
REVERSE ANGLE - It is not Lt. Vukovich.
Terminator sits motionless for a BEAT.
Blue eyes so pure and deep. The eyes of a saint, perhaps.
The .45 is out and cocked and AIMED DIRECTLY AT CAMERA, almost
in one motion.
The bore seems enormous.
BACK ON SARAH, over the gun barrel, her eyes go wide. We hold
a BEAT, like a frozen slice of nightmare.
MEDIUM ON REESE as he whips the riot-gun to a hip-firing posi-
tion, his overcoat falling back with a snap. HE FIRES.
ON TERMINATOR, as the shotgun blast hits his arm and he FIRES,
simultaneously. Sarah screams as the .45 round blows stuffing
out of the booth seat inches from her face. Her hair is
singed by burning gunpowder. An involuntary cry is punched
out of her by the double concussions.
Reese is stroking up another shell as Terminator half-rises
OVER REESE'S SHOULDER, as he fires, cocks the slide, fires
again, advancing on Sarah's booth.
Terminator is blown backward over the center divider,
crashing through the glasses and pitchers of beer on the
table opposite, and onto the floor.
Sarah is screaming, scrunched down in the booth.
Terminator is lying on his back at the feet of a table-
full of drunk patrons.
He has two rifled 12 gauge slugs in his chest and one
in the arm.
The bar customers are frozen in the weird tableau, cowering,
Sarah stops screaming.
Reese stand motionless, gun aimed.
In the sudden silence, the sound of him cocking the shotgun
is abnormally loud.
ON TERMINATOR, very still.
Then he smoothly rolls to a crouch and slips the UZI machine
pistol from beneath his overcoat, where it has been hang-
ing on a shoulder strap.
He doesn't seem too impaired as he swings around to fire.
Reese rolls like a cat and comes up firing.
A burst from the UZI rakes the bar where he stood.
An orgy of shattering glass.
SEVERAL ANGLES as patrons of the bar run, scream or dive
for cover, depending upon their level of intelligence.
Reese slides through the glass to Sarah's booth and seizes
ON TERMINATOR, kneeling amid the chaos, raising the UZI
Reese tugs viciously on Sarah's arm and she sprawls across
the booth seat a moment before the divider and seat cushion
erupt with hits from the UZI.
ANGLE ON A RUNNING PATRON as a burst of 9mm fire catches
him in the chest. He pitches into Sarah's booth, pinning
Reese fires, ducks, fires again.
Tables crash over.
A window is blown out.
A table candle rolls into a pool of high-proof alcohol
behind the bar.
It ignites with a WHOOSH.
Reese feed two shells into the riot-gun.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, an island of slow, precise movement
amid the confusion. He drops a spent clip. Reaches for
another with his bloody hand.
MOVING WITH REESE as he vaults the row of booths and starts
firing. At point blank range he unloads the shotgun into
92 INT./EXT. STOKER'S/STREET - NIGHT 92
Terminator crashes backwards through two tables and a plate
glass window into the street.
93 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 93
The roaring fire behind the bar is spreading very quickly.
The air is thick with smoke.
Reese tosses the UZI, for which he has no ammo, into the
fire. He hauls the dead man off Sarah and reaches for her.
TIGHT ON SARAH, shrinking away from Reese, hysterical.
When he grabs her wrist she struggles, eyes wide.
C.U. - REESE, very intense.
Come with me if you want
She looks where he is pointing.
94 EXT. STOKER'S BAR/STREET - NIGHT 94
Terminator is rising unsteadily to his feet. Shattered
glass rains from him, except where it sticks to his blood-
drenched shirt and coat.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, as he slowly look up, his blue eyes
riveting STRAIGHT INTO THE CAMERA.
95 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 95
C.U. - SARAH, feeling a lightning blot of terror greater
than she could ever imagine as the cold gaze fixes on her.
Oh my God...
96 INT./EXT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 96
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he clambers back through
the window and starts through the burning bar.
97 INT. STOKER'S BAR - NIGHT 97
PANAGLIDE MOVING IN ON REESE AND SARAH as he runs, drag-
ging her with him, toward the back.
REVERSE ON TERMINATOR, DOLLYING as he crashed through the
wreckage in the swirling smoke, hurling burning tables out
of his way.
98 INT. KITCHEN/HALLWAY/EXIT CORRIDOR 98
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH, running headlong
through the cluttered kitchen, then down a narrow back
hallway. Sarah stumbles and Reese brutally pulls her to
her feet without slowing.
He hits a closed door, which crashes open.
Hauls Sarah through, into another corridor.
Slams and blot-latches it.
An instant later an impact from the far side tears the
latch-screws half out of the wall.
They run on.
99 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 99
Terminator takes a step back from the closed door and
slams into it again. It starts to give way.
behind him the flames engulf a CAN OF CLEANING SOLVENT.
100 INT./EXT. EXIT CORRIDOR/ALLEY - NIGHT 100
Reese and Sarah pelt down the narrow corridor, fling open
the outside door and spin out into the alley.
TIGHT ON DOOR at far end. It splinters open and Terminator
sprints down the corridor.
101 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 101
The cleaning solvent EXPLODES.
102 INT. EXIT CORRIDOR - NIGHT 102
DOLLYING AHEAD OF TERMINATOR, very fast, as he runs full-
throttle. Behind him a fireball of superheated gas hurtles
down the narrow hallway. He clears the outer door an
instant before the tongue of flame roars out into the alley.
103 EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF STOKER'S - NIGHT 103
Vukovich's plain car arrives, slewing to a stop in the
glass-littered street in front of the blazing building.
He leaps out, Traxler right in behind him.
What the fuck is going on?
TWO LAPD UNITS arrive behind them. He motions to the
Cover the alley in back.
He heads for the inferno at a run.
104 EXT. ALLEY BEHIND STOKER'S - NIGHT 104
DOLLYING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they run through the
dark alley. Sarah stumbles over trashcans.
Reese pulls her along mercilessly.
WHIP-PANNING as they clear a corner.
The B.G. is a blur.
The night-maze is a blur in all of these shots.
No static angles.
Relentless forward motion.
105/FX EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 105/FX
Behind them Terminator is moving with inhuman speed,
bounding like a panther, leaping trash cans and other
TRACKING C.U. - TERMINATOR, catching the faintest glimpse
of a red glow in the pupils of his eyes as he passes through
106/FX EXT. ALLEY/POV - TERMINATOR (HANDHELD) - NIGHT 106/FX
We know this is Terminator's POV because Sarah and Reese
are just ahead of us. But the image is bizarre, alien.
Bright and hyper-real. There is a hint of digitization,
and the fleeing figures ahead are more luminous than the
background, suggesting infra-red.
The margins of the FRAME are crammed with columns of CRT-
type characters: columns of numbers and acronyms. The
data changes more rapidly than any human eye could follow.
There is no doubt that we are seeing as a machine would see.
The sound effects are bright and clear, as if they are
digitized and enhanced as well.
107 EXT. ADJOINING ALLEY - NIGHT 107
Reese and Sarah turn a corner by caroming off the wall
without slowing and pelt down a narrower alley. This
one is lined with a row of parked cars and connects to
the street. There is little room to run.
Reese is reloading on the run, dropping shells.
Behind them Terminator enters the alley, gaining.
LOW ANGLE, FAST PANAGLIDE ahead of the fleeing pair.
As they breast the last car Reese shoves Sarah hard,
pitching her on her face to the pavement.
He flings open the car door...a shield.
Drops to the ground.
Fires into the gas tank of a car further back in the row
just before Terminator reaches it.
The car EXPLODES, filling the alley with fire. An inferno
funneled between the enclosing walls.
ANGLE ON REESE AND SARAH behind the car door as flames
roar over the hood.
ON TERMINATOR, as he slides to a stop, cut off by the
wall of flame.
Reese doesn't waste any time stuffing Sarah into the car.
Climbing in after and over her he twists two wires together
and we recognize it as his stolen GREY SEDAN.
The engine catches.
A SILHOUETTE rockets out of the flames.
Terminator, leaping from the roof of the blazing car ahead,
impacts on the hood of Reese's car. His hair and coat are
108 INT./EXT. GREY SEDAN/ALLEY - NIGHT 108
Reese jams reverse and nail the throttle.
The car backs down the alley.
Terminator draws back his fist.
Punches into the windshield.
Inside, Sarah is sprayed with glass as the killer's fist
The lacerated fingers grope for her.
WIDE as the car shoots backwards out of the alley onto the
street, narrowly missing an arriving LAPD CRUISER.
Sarah plasters herself tightly into the seat as the
fingers grasp her blouse and pull.
Reese cranks the wheel hard.
109 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 109
The sedan skids, slewing sideways into a parked car.
Terminator rolls down off onto the pavement.
Reese's car shoots forward.
PANNING WITH SEDAN as it roars past Vukovich, the gathering
minions of the burning building, an arriving fire
truck...shoots through a red light and continues to accel-
Terminator gets to a kneeling position, then slowly stands.
He pats out his smoldering clothing as he watches his quarry
110 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 110
ON VUKOVICH as he runs to his car, exhorting the nearby
LAPD guys to give pursuit, while Traxler grabs the radio.
Go! Go! He's got her.
Suspect westbound on
Olympic. Grey sedan. Has
111 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 111
LOW WIDE ANGLE on the empty street, which is narrow and
tightly lines with parked cars.
The ROAR of an engine builds.
The sedan, like a night-demon, hurtles out of the shadows
with its lights off, doing ninety plus.
112 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 112
Sarah is in a daze.
Paralyzed. Face bloodless.
She is shivering silently, uncontrollably.
Her eyes are wide, and it seems likely that she doesn't
quite comprehend the roaring blur outside her window.
113 EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT 113
WIDE ANGLE, CLOSE TO SEDAN, and following it as it hurtles
around a corner in an expertly controlled slide.
Then a high speed sprint down the cross-street.
Reese squirrels the vehicle between a slow-moving car
ahead and oncoming traffic.
A dive into another dark side street.
114 INT. GRAY SEDAN - NIGHT 114
Reese drives with total, nerveless absorption. His eyes
flick to the mirror, to the road, over his shoulder, back
...and the world spins outside.
With occasional glances to Sarah, he speaks to her in a
clipped, military voice.
Are you injured? Are you
He reaches over and runs his hands over her arms, legs,
chest. Sarah flinches.
She feels the BLIND PANIC BOILING UP WITHIN HER.
She pushes his hand away and opens the door.
Reese slams her back in the seat and slaps her. Hard.
Do exactly what I say.
Exactly. Don't move un-
less I say. Don't make a
sound unless I say. Do
As he speaks he is locking the door and fastening Sarah's
seatbelt over her, cinching it very tightly, like you would
for a child. She doesn't answer.
Do you understand?
Yes. Don't hurt me.
I'm here to help you. Reese,
Sarah stares numbly at his outstretched hand. With zero
strength she automatically returns his handshake.
Assigned to protect you.
You've been targetted for
115 EXT. SIDE STREET/ALLEY - NIGHT 115
The walls of a narrow alley, inky black, frame a police
cruiser parked on the street beyond. Firelight from the
back of Stoker's lights the street garishly.
A young cop stands beside the car talking via radio with
the mike cord pulled through the side window. He speaks
with a distinctive twang--a displaced southerner.
...I don't know, it looks
like it might spread to this
furniture warehouse across
the alley, the paint on the
wall's starting to blister
The sweeping headlights of a turning car momentarily illuminate
the face of Terminator, motionless in the dark right in
front of us.
Eyes open. Listening.
Better get another truck
round to this side.
Terminator's silhouette emerges from the blackness and
strides purposefully toward the cop, CAMERA following.
The officer whirls and reaches for his gun but Terminator
flings him brutally into the side of the car, steps over
him and opens the door.
Before getting in he notes the unit number on the roof: 143.
Then he slides behind the wheel, slips the squad car into
gear, and pulls out.
CAMERA PRECEDING CAR, HIDE WIDE ANGLE, as it accelerates
rapidly, until the lines across the street are flashing
under it in a staccato rhythm.
116 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 116
Sarah is slumped way down in the seat, turned away from the
window, trying not to see the landscape reeling outside.
This is a mistake. I haven't
No. But you will. It's
very important that you
Sarah closes her eyes, as if to shut it all out.
I can't believe this is happen-
ing. How could than man get up
Reese's tone is equal parts hatred and respect as he replies.
Not a man. A Terminator.
Cyber Dynamics Model 101.
117 INT. SQUAD CAR - NIGHT 117
Terminator drives expressionlessly, monitoring the babble
from Central Dispatch. He hears his number.
...Suspect vehicle sighted on
Motor at Pico, southbound.
Units Two-Zero-Six and Five-
Seven, attempt intercept.
Unit One-Four-Three, come in.
Terminator picks up the mike. He speaks in a
simulation of the young cop's southern twang.
This is One-Four-Three. West-
bound on Olympic, approaching
118 EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - NIGHT 118
The grey sedan moves through traffic like a hell-bent
wraith. Reese has the hammer down. He handles the
car with nerves of steel.
119 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 119
Below, Reese's sedan snakes along at 110 plus. The
chopper, F.G., drops toward it.
Air-unit Two. We're on him.
Westbound Santa Monica at 405.
120 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 120
A machine? You mean, like
Not a robot. Cyborg.
They have to yell over the roar of air through the broken
But...he was bleeding.
At that moment a blinding light sears down on them from
above. Reese looks over his left shoulder and sees a
CHP cruiser coming alongside.
Just a second. Keep your
121 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 121
The helicopter is right above the, its spotlight burning
on Reese. The cruiser flanks them, closing. Reese peels
off to the right, inches in front of a tractor-trailer rig,
brakes hard and slides into a four-wheel drift through a
The helicopter banks, following.
The cruiser swaps ends trying to maneuver and slams broad-
side into the guardrail. Out of action.
122 EXT. OFF RAMP/INTERSECTION - NIGHT 122
The sedan roars across the street without slowing
and vanishes down a tree-lined side street.
123 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 123
DOWN ANGLE - AERIAL past the chopper, F.G., as its searchlight
sweeps over the close-knit treetops.
124 EXT. SIDE STREET/INTERSECTION - NIGHT 124
The sedan skids around a corner, F.G., as the searchlight
filters in shafts through the trees further down the street,
sweeping futility back and forth.
125 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 125
It hovers indecisively, then banks off.
126 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 126
Reese is ultra-alert, craning to look up, back, forward.
The Terminator's an infil-
tration unit. Part man, part
machine. Underneath, it's a
hyperalloy combat chassis,
fully armored. Very tough...
He pauses as they slide around another corner.
127 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 127
Reese's sedan glides out onto a main drag, very subdued.
He turns the lights on and blends with traffic.
The helicopter crosses laterally in the distance.
128 INT. GREY SEDAN - NIGHT 128
But outside, it's living
human tissue. Flesh, skin,
hair...blood. Grown for the
Look, Reese, I know you want
to help, but...
(cutting her off)
Pay attention. The 600
series had rubber skin.
We spotted them easy. But
these are new. They look
human. Sweat, bad breath,
everything. Very hard to
spot. I had to wait 'til
he moved on you before I
could zero him.
Hey, I'm not stupid, y'know.
They can't build anything like
No. Not yet. Not for about
Reese is driving sedately for a low profile, but his eyes
rove constantly, searching for a place to ditch the car.
Sarah's eyes are alert as well, and her tone becomes a bit
So, it's from the future, is
One possible future. Four your
point of view. I don't know the
And you're from the future too?
They come to a red light and Reese stops.
Like a shot she unlatches the seatbelt, pulls the door lock
and has the door half open before Reese can react. He catches
her arm and hauls her struggling back into the car.
Sarah sinks her teeth into his hand with all her strength.
His grip doesn't slacken.
Slowly, without releasing her, he reaches across with his
other hand and shuts the door. His face shows no reaction.
Sarah draws back and stares at the blood running down his
arm from the bite, that at his grim, scarred face. The
light turns green and Reese drives on.
Sarah tastes blood and wipes her mouth.
Cyborgs don't feel pain. I
do. Don't...do that...again.
He wipes his hand on his pants.
Just let me go.
(slow, but intense)
Listen. Understand. That
Terminator is out there. It
can't be reasoned with, it can't
be bargained with...it doesn't
feel pity of remorse or fear...
and it absolutely will not stop.
Ever. Until you are dead.
Sarah slump in utter resignation.
Can you stop it?
Reese doesn't look at her.
Maybe. With these weapons...
I don't know.
129 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 129
Reese's car turns into the parking lot of a large hospital,
acres of pavement dotted with sporadic parked cars.
130 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER - NIGHT 130
ANGLE THROUGH WINDSHIELD, ON TERMINATOR, as he searches.
Streetlights flare across rhythmically.
131 EXT. POLICE HELICOPTER - NIGHT 131
It moves between two buildings, searchlight sweeping back
and forth. DOWN ANGLE, past the chopper, as the circle of
light moves across a row of parked cars.
It passes a grey sedan with a shattered windshield.
Flicks back. Holds.
TIGHTER ON CAR, GROUND LEVEL, in the glare and propwash.
It looks empty.
132 EXT. PARKING LOT/NEARBY - NIGHT 132
LOW ANGLE DOLLY, MOVING WITH REESE AND SARAH as they crawl
behind a row of parked cars.
He has firm hold of her arm but she seems to be cooperating.
In the B.G., the chopper hovers, on the far side of the lot.
Reese approaches the door of a late model brown Buick which
has been left with its window partway down.
He unlocks it and they slip inside.
133 EXT./INT. TERMINATOR'S CRUISER - NIGHT 133
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, through the windshield of the black-
Suspect vehicle located at
parking lot, Cedar and Glen-
FULL SHOT as Terminator's cruiser slews in a radical turn
and roars off in the opposite direction.
134 INT./EXT. BROWN BUICK/PARKING LOT - NIGHT 134
Reese uses the butt of the shotgun to smash loose the
ignition assembly. He begins working on the wires. A
police cruiser appears, moving slowly between the rows of
Reese grabs Sarah and pulls her down to huddle below dash
level. A moment later a spotlight flashes across the seats
above them. They hear the helicopter circling closer.
Reese...why me? Why does
it want me?
They are lying very close, a forced intimacy. Reese's voice
is an urgent whisper, almost in her ear. A cruiser passes
so close they can hear its radio clearly.
There's so much...
Tell me. Just start at the
Reese musters his thoughts. And starts.
There was a war. A few years
from now. Nuclear war. The
whole thing. All this--
His gesture includes the car, the city, the world.
--everythingis gone. Just
gone. There were survivors.
Here. There. Nobody knew who
It was the machines.
I don't understand...
Defense network computer. New.
Powerful. Hooked into everything.
Trusted to run it all. They say it
got smart...a new order of intelli-
gence. Then it saw all people as
a threat, not just the ones on the
other side. Decided out fate in a
Reese pauses, and when he continues it's less like a military
Didn't see the war. I was born
after, in the ruins. Grew up
there. Starving. Hiding from
Hunter Killers. Patrol machines.
Build in automated factories.
Most of us were rounded up, put in
camps...for orderly disposal.
He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket and shows
her a ten digit number etches on the skin of his forearm.
Beneath the numbers is a pattern of lines like the auto-
matic-pricing marks on product packages.
Burned in by laser scan.
Some of us were kept alive...
to work. Loading bodies. The
disposal units ran night and day.
We were that close to going out
The helicopter moves overhead. Its searchlight illum-
inates the car interior, moves on. Before the rotor
sound fads, Reese starts the car.
135 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 135
Several black-and-whites are moving among the parked
ANGLE ON TERMINATOR'S CRUISER rolling along just above
idle. He peers into the row of cars, listening and
seeing on level we can't.
136 INT. BROWN BUICK - NIGHT 136
Reese is holding onto Sarah's shoulder tightly.
...but there was one man...who
taught us to fight. To storm
the wire of the camps. To
smash those metal mother-
fuckers into junk. He turned
it around...he brought us back
from the brink.
His name is Connor. John Connor...
your son, Sarah. Your unborn son.
Sarah stared at him.
137 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 137
The brown Buick is F.G. as the nose of Terminator's cruiser
appears behind it, moving slowly.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, scanning.
LOW ANGLE, past the back of the Buick, as Terminator
cruises by. The tailpipe, F.G., puffs quietly.
Terminator's head snaps around.
His eyes lock on Reese's car.
He reaches for his shotgun.
138 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 138
Reese's head jerks up, looking in the mirror.
139 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 139
Reese's car launches forward from its space, tires
spinning as Terminator fires from the window of the
140 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 140
The rear window explodes and Reese ducks, then cranks
141 EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT 141
Reese and Terminator race along opposite sides of a
row of cars, approaching the exit.
The cruiser pulls ahead and closes diagonally as they
clear the last car.
Reese sees the other's shotgun leveled.
He ducks, steering blind, keeps it floored.
The windshield and side window EXPLODES INWARD.
The Buick slams into the black-and-white, spinning it into
a parked truck. TIRES SCREAM as the two cars slew around
heading for the exit.
SEVERAL ANGLES, as the police react.
The chopper banks tight and dives across the tops of
the parked cars. Cruisers race to converge.
143 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 143
LOW WIDE ANGLE, PRECEDING REESE'S BUICK as it hits the
street, accelerating. Terminator's cruiser slides out
behind it, fishtails, races forward.
Engines roar as the cars go flat out. Buildings lining
the street become a blur.
The chopper arcs in behind them.
Legitimate police, lights blazing, enter the pursuit
one by one.
LOW ANGLE, MOVING WITH TERMINATOR'S CAR as Reese dodges
across all lanes ahead of it.
They run an intersection at a hundred plus.
144 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 144
Reese is feeding his last two shells into the riot gun.
Holding the gun is both hands he leans out the window,
still keeping the throttle mashed down.
Sarah grabs the wheel, fighting to control the car.
145 EXT. STREET/BUICK - NIGHT 145
MOVING WITH THE BUICK, looking back, as Reese aims the
shotgun, buffeted by the windstream.
Terminator's car, B.G., overtakes rapidly.
146 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 146
OVER SARAH'S SHOULDER as they approach an intersection...
red light their way and an ALPHA BETA TRUCK entering cross
147 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 147
Past Terminator, F.G., his shotgun aimed as he comes along
They are staring down each other's barrels.
148 INT. BUICK - NIGHT 148
Sarah grabs the shift lever.
DETAIL - SHIFTER, as she slams it into reverse.
149 EXT. STREET/CARS - NIGHT 149
MOVING WITH BOTH CARS as the Buick skids with rear tires
locked. Reese and Terminator FIRE simultaneously.
TIGHT ON REESE as the doorpost next to his shoulder is
torn out by the other's blast.
ON TERMINATOR, leaning to see around his shattered wind-
shield. Too late.
He hurtles into the intersection, past the skidding Buick.
Clips the back of the semi.
Vaults the curb in a screeching front-end roll.
WHIP-PANNING WITH THE CRUISER as it crashes upside-down
through the counter area of an A & W.
LOW ANGLE as Reese and Sarah slide to a stop in a cloud
of tire smoke.
Transmission fluid pours out of the car like blood.
An instant later they are surrounded by an assortment of
LAPD, SHERIFF'S DEPT., and CHP CARS.
The helicopter hovers overhead.
MEDIUM ON SARAH AND REESE, he raises his hands, through
the side window, in plain sight. A phalanx of cops, guns
drawn, approaches the car warily.
Sarah looks at Reese. Then at the cops. She opens the door
and runs, staggering, toward them. Vukovich steps forward
and pulls her away to safety.
C.U. - REESE watching her go as a cop eases his door open.
150 EXT. A & W - NIGHT 150
Two cops approach the overturned squad car jammed into the
wreckage of the small building.
They shine their flashlights inside.
It is empty.
The cyborg has VANISHED.
A sign which reads 'DRIVE IN' detaches from an awning and
crashed down across the crushed auto.
151 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 151
Sarah, huddles in a blanket, is siting on a bench opposite
Vukovich's desk. Motionless. Her eyes are fixed on the
middle distance. She's been crying. Now she's emptied out.
The door opens.
At the sound of the latch Sarah jerks as if struck, and cringes
involuntarily. Vukovich enters with Traxler and DR. PETER
SILBERMAN, a criminal psychologist. Silberman is smooth
of skin and manner, young, ambitious and...fat. He is
enthusiastic about the workings of the human psyche, as
emotionally involved as someone pulling the wings off a fly.
Vukovich sits beside Sarah and hands her a cup of coffee.
He puts a paternal arm around her shoulders.
Here, drink some of this...
Lieutenant, are you sure it's
them? Maybe I should see the
They've already been identi-
fied. There's no doubt.
Sarah begins to cry again, slowly and very quickly.
I'm so sorry.
Vukovich takes the coffee cup from her as her arms sag and
it starts to spill.
Sarah, this is Dr. Silber-
man. I'd like you to tell
him everything Reese said
to you. Do you feel up to it?
I guess so.
You're a doctor?
A criminal psychologist.
Is Reese crazy?
That's what we're going to
152 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 152
The room costs five dollars a night and that's steep, but
the FIRE ESCAPE outside the window adds an element of
A silhouette slips in through the window and click on the
single BARE LIGHT BULB.
It's Terminator, and he's a mess.
A bloody scarecrow with bullet wounds in stomach, chest,
shoulder and right wrist.
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR as he sits at a ratty folding table
under the light.
His eyebrows are singed off.
Hair a charred stubble.
Left eyes glistening with imbedded glass shards.
Before him on the table is an array of SMALL TOOLS.
He removes the charred remains of his jacket and props.
one elbow on the table.
ANGLE PAST HIS NON-FUNCTIONAL RIGHT ARM, F.G., as he exam-
ines it. He picks up an X-ACTO KNIFE and cuts deeply into
the skin of his forearm.
His expression is one of mild concentration.
E.C.U. - FOREARM, as he pulls back a large flap of skin to
reveal a complex trunk of SHEATHED CABLES AND HYDRAULICS.
They slide as he moves his fingers.
RESUME MEDIUM, as Terminator uses a rag to wipe away the
blood. With small screwdrivers he begins to patiently dis-
assemble the damaged mechanism around the 12-guage hit.
153 INT. DIVISION HQ/INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT 153
The room is small, furnished with only a table and two chairs.
Reese, his arms handcuffed behind him, sits opposite Dr.
Silberman. Behind Silberman is a large mirror. A DETECTIVE
leans against the wall.
So. You're a soldier.
Fighting for whom?
With the One Thirty Second
under Perry, from '21 to '27--
The year 2027?
154 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM 154
Vukovich and Traxler are seated in the dark room, watching
Reese, B.G., through the two-way mirror. Just behind the
glass is a VIDEO CAMERA ON A TRIPOD, aimed at Reese, and
a CART holding a SMALL MONITOR and VIDEOCASSETTE RECORDER.
This is fucking great.
155 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM 155
Then I was assigned Recon/
Security, last two years,
under John Connor.
And who was the enemy?
SKYNET. A computer defense system
built for SAC-NORAD by Cyber
Dynamics. A modified Series
I see. And this...computer,
thinks it can win by killing
the mother of its enemy, kill-
ing him, in effect, before he
is even conceived? A sort of
156 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM 156
Traxler snorts and grins.
That Silberman just crack me up.
He had this guy in here last week
who set his Afghan on fire.
Screwed it first, then set it on--
157 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM
...it had no choice.
The defensive grid was
smashed. We'd taken the
We'd won. Taking out
Connor then would make no
difference. Skynet had to
wipe out his entire exist-
ence. We captured the lab
complex. Found the...what-
ever it was called...the
The Terminator had already
gone through. They sent two
of us to intercept, then
zeroed the whole place.
Sumner didn't make it.
Then how are you supposed to
Can't. Nobody goes home.
Nobody else comes through.
It's just him and me.
158 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
E.C.U. - TERMINATOR, in profile, showing his lacerated eye.
He is close to a mirror, practically touching it, staring
MACRO - X-ACTO KNIFE lying on the dresser. Terminator's
fingers lift it. CAMERA TILTS TO FOLLOW as it rises to
his face, holds TIGHT ON left eye.
With a smooth motion the knife point enters the eyeball
and cuts away the ruins sclera and cornea, as well as part
of the damaged eyelids.
He wipes with a rag to clear the electronic eye's vision.
Revealing the faintly glowing lens mechanism, suspended in
a chrome socket by tiny servos.
The eye whirs quietly as it tracks.
SEQUENCE OF SHOTS, showing various repairs.
Terminator's right hand, its wrist SUTURED crudely, holds
a needle and sewing thread and starts to work on abdominal
wound out of frame below.
He slips a glove over the damaged hand.
A motoring cap over the blistered scalp.
A fresh shirt to hide his body wounds.
This is followed by a new overcoat.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, contemplating his reflection in the
mirror. With the hat pulled down, the collar pulled up,
and favoring his right profile he looks unhurt...though
a bit gaunt and pale.
A turn of his head brings the balefully glowing left eye
in its metal socket into view.
He slips on a pair of tight, wrap-around sunglasses.
FULL SHOT as he goes to the bed and flips up the stained
mattress. He picks up the Remington 12 gauge, the AR-180
and the .38 off the springs and leaves by the fire escape.
159 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE - NIGHT 159
TIGHT ON VIDEO MONITOR showing Reese in the Interrogation
...It's just him and me.
CUT WIDE revealing Sarah, Silberman, Vukovich and Traxler
watching a monitor sitting amid incredible paperwork clutter
on a desk top.
Why didn't you bring any
weapons? Something more
advanced. Don't you have
Traxler, standing in the back, grins and nudges Silberman,
who nods appreciatively.
TIGHT ON REESE'S RECORDED IMAGE - He glares at Silberman.
ON SARAH, as Silberman's voice is heard.
Show me a piece of future
You go naked. Something about
the field generated by a living
organism. Nothing dead will go.
I didn't build the fucking
Okay. Okay. But this...
cyborg...if it's metal...
Surrounded by living tissue.
The real Silberman put the tape on "PAUSE".
This is great stuff. I could
make a career out of this guy.
You see how clever this part
is...how it doesn't require a
shred of proof. Most paranoid
delusions are intricate...but
this is brilliant.
He starts the tape again.
Why were the other two women
Most official records were
lost in the war. The computer
knew almost nothing about
Connor's mother. Her name.
Where she lived, just the city.
No scanner pictures. The
Terminator was just being
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN, as he goes on.
You've heard enough. Decide.
Are you going to release me?
I'm afraid that's not up
Then why am I talking to you?
ON SARAH, DOLLYING SLOWLY IN TO C.U. as we hear Reese
begin to shout.
I can help you...
Who is in authority here?
C.U. REESE, ON SCREEN, as he looks straight at the camera.
You still don't get it.
He'll find her. That's
what he does. All he does...
MEDIUM ON VUKOVICH, gesturing to Silberman, who is near the
machine, to kill it.
You can't stop him. He'll
wade through you...
C.U. - REESE, ON SCREEN, rising partway out of his chair,
...reach down her throat, and
pull her fucking heart out...
The screen goes black.
Vukovich has cut off the tape.
C.U. - SARAH staring at the empty screen.
So Reese is crazy.
In technical terminology,
he's a loon.
Vukovich hands her something that looks like umpire's
Sarah, this is body armor.
Out TAC guys wear it. It'll
stop a 12 gauge round. This
other individual must've had
one under his coat.
Sarah want to believe him. God help her if he's wrong.
But what about him punching
through the windshield?
Probably on PCP, broke every
bone in his hand and won't feel
it for hours. There was this
guy once that...
Vukovich cuts him off with a gesture and sits beside Sarah
on the bench.
Why don't you just stretch out
here and get some sleep. It'll
take your mom a good hour to get
here from Redlands.
I can't sleep.
Go ahead. You're safe. There're
thirty cops in this building.
She lays her head on a wadded up blanket as everyone
leaves the office.
159A INT. CORRIDOR
Vukovich pauses outside the door, lost in thought. Traxler
studies him for a second.
Ed, come on...the guy's a
Vukovich glances up.
He'd better be.
160 INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT FOYER - NIGHT 160
Silberman can be seen through a glass partition next to
the bullet-proof glass booth enclosing the NIGHT DESK
SERGEANT'S counter. The Sergeant hits a button and there
is a loud BULL-CLACK. The electric bolt on the security
door opens and Silberman steps out.
As he exits the station, he passes Terminator just coming in
the front door. He glances at the pale apparition in cap
and dark wrap-arounds, but goes on.
Terminator approaches the Desk Sergeant who barely glances
up when he speaks.
I'm a friend of Sarah Connor.
I was told she is here. Can
I see her, please?
You can't see here. She's
making a statement.
Where is she?
Look. It's gonna be a while.
You wanna wait. There's a
Terminator steps back, scanning the booth, the electric
door, the rooms beyond.
I'll come back.
He turns and walks out through the front doors.
ANGLE PAST DESK SERGEANT, F.G. - ON FRONT DOORS, the officer
is absorbed in paperwork, not watching as a pair of lights
get BRIGHTER outside the doors. RAPIDLY. He glances up
at the last second as the glare falls fully on him. CRASH!
Several cops and late night loiterers scatter as a car
smashes into the foyer. It blasts through the sergeant's
booth, crushing him in the wreckage.
161 INT. DIVISION HQ/VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 161
Sarah, lying on the couch, jerks awake as the crash
REVERBERATES through the building. She sits up, bleary-
162 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 162
Through the hole in the splintered wall we see Terminator
leap out of the car.
He vaults the hood and smashes through the debris of the
Leaps to the corridor floor in a shower of plaster fragments.
He brandishes the AR-180 like a pistol in one hand, the
.38 in the other.
The shotgun dangles at his side on a shoulder sling.
LOW ANGLE DOLLY, preceding him as he starts down the
ANGLE ON LOUNGE DOORWAY as TWO COPS run into the hall,
one carrying a cup of coffee.
Terminator fires a burst from the assault rifle.
ANGLE ON COPS - They are flung backward in a spray of
coffee and plaster.
163 INT. DIVISION HQ/VUKOVICH'S OFFICE
Sarah is alert now with growing alarm. The sound of
GUNFIRE is faint...but unmistakable. Her expression
shows the dawning certainty of what is happening.
164 INT. DIVISION HQ/CORRIDOR 164
Terminator steps over the bodies of the two cops without
OVER HIS SHOULDER, MOVING WITH HIM as he walks down the
hall. Comes to a door. Tries it. Locked.
Kicks it in.
A DESK COP, drawing his gun, sprints for cover.
ANGLE ON TERMINATOR raising the AR-180.
165/FX INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - TERMINATOR'S POV 165/FX
In computer-enhanced vision we see the cop dash around a
corner in SLOW MOTION. As he disappears behind the wall
an ANIMATED OUTLINE OF HIM is still visible...a PROBABILISTIC
EXTRAPOLATION OF HIS MOTION. There is a target cross-
hair following the figure.
166 INT. DIVISION HQ/OFFICE - BEHIND WALL 166
The wall erupts with a volley of shots beside the running
cop and he is flung OUT OF FRAME.
167 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 167
Shots are echoing in the hallway as Vukovich whips open
the door, startling the hell out of Sarah.
He turns the locking knob and slams the door.
Leaving her alone.
She flinches as more SHOTS SOUND. CLOSER.
167A INT. CORRIDOR 167A
Terminator rips the cover off the station's main electrical
panel. He pulls loose the hose-like 440 volt
incoming line and feeds it directly into the lighting
All down the corridor the overhead fluorescent units
explode, showering sparks and glass.
The building is plunged into darkness.
Arcs SPUTTER and FLARE, lighting the corridors strobo-
167B INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 167B
Sarah's terror skyrockets when the ceiling lamp explodes
and the office goes black.
168 INT. CORRIDOR 168
Through the smoke and emergency spotlights Terminator moves
A door behind him opens. A COP fires, hitting him in
the shoulder. Terminator fires straight-arm with the .38
without slowing, killing the cop, then fires down the
corridor with the assault rifle.
169 INT. INTERROGATION ROOM 169
Traxler leaves the other detective to guard Reese, who is
still handcuffed to the chair.
The door closes.
An instant later a chair smashes over the detective's
back, just as he is turning toward his prisoner.
Reese is on him, scrabbling for the keys.
170 INT. CROSS CORRIDOR 170
Traxler is running down the hall through smoke and the
wild strobing of electrical fires as Vukovich steps
out of an armory room. He tosses Traxler an M-16 and
they run on.
171 INT. MAIN CORRIDOR 171
Terminator stops before another door. He BLASTS the lock
with the riot-gun. Flings open the door, scanning.
He is hit twice, chest and leg.
Firelight flickers from an office doorway as he passes.
172 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 172
Sarah scrabbles for a place to hide in the darkened room
but it's so tiny. Behind the desk. She crouches unable to
believe she has awakened into the same nightmare.
173 INT. OFFICE NEARBY 173
ANGLE ON DOOR as it splinters open and Terminator stands,
guns raised. A COP fires from behind a desk.
Terminator sprays the room.
Starts to reload.
174 INT. CORRIDOR
Vukovich edges open a door and fires half a clip into
Terminator's back. His eyes bulge as the intruder turns,
slamming a clip into his rifle and calmly fires two rounds.
Traxler drags Vukovich's body back inside the room.
175 INT. CORRIDOR 175
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR, moving forward, intent
176 INT. VUKOVICH'S OFFICE 176
MEDIUM ON SARAH, her teeth are chattering with fear as
SHOTS echo nearby. There is the RHYTHMIC THUNDER of the
shotgun, rattling AUTOMATIC FIRE, SCREAMING, and the sound
of RUNNING FEET. Getting closer.
SLOW DOLLY IN ON SARAH begins, ending in TIGHT C.U. as the
sounds get louder. More SHOTS.
Smoke begins to seep under the door.
DETAIL - DOORKNOB rattling as it is tried from outside.
E.C.U. - SARAH stifling a cry. She flinches as if slapped
as SHOTS sound.
DETAIL - DOOR KNOB, a series of SHOTS shatter the lock.
FULL ON DOORWAY - The door bangs open and a figure stands
silhouetted in the smoky hallway, holding a pistol.
E.C.U. - SARAH, as she closes her eyes. Holds her breath.
FULL SHOT - She scrambles out from beneath the desk and runs
to him in the thickening smoke.
177 CONNECTING OFFICES 177
PANAGLIDE FOLLOWING REESE AND SARAH as they cross the
corridor and move through a series of offices, doubling back
toward the main entrance.
178 INT. OFFICE 178
Sarah and Reese move rapidly through the smoke.
Gunfire sounds nearby. They pass bodies.
They find the Lieutenant propped in a corner, dying.
Reese bends toward him.
Vukovich holds out his custom Colt Python .357.
You just keep her alive. Do
what you have to.
Reese snatches the gun and the keys and runs on.
C.U. - VUKOVICH watching them go.
179 INT./EXT. OFFICES/SIDE ENTRANCE - NIGHT 179
FAST PANAGLIDE PRECEDING TERMINATOR as he runs through
the smoky rooms. A fire is burning, lighting everything
a flickering orange.
He emerges onto a landing through a side entrance. PAN
to follow his line of sight as he snaps the AR-180 to
his shoulder. B.G. a BLUE VOLKSWAGEN RABBIT is roaring
away across the parking lot.
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR aiming carefully. He pulls the trigger.
It clicks...empty. Slowly he lowers the scope-sight from
his eye and watches them go.
Terminator limps down the steps from the landing and walks
away as the fire spreads behind the windows of Division
180 INT. RABBIT - NIGHT 180
DETAIL - GAS GAUGE, it reads EMPTY.
181 EXT. HIGHWAY - NIGHT 181
The Rabbit is stopped on the shoulder of a two lane
secondary road winding through the hills north of L.A.
Reese is fishing objects out of the car's trunk and
handing them to Sarah, who holds a flashlight.
He hands her a blanket, some road flares, and a first
aid kit. Then he slams the trunk. Reaching through the
side window, he turns the wheel and pushes the car off
the shoulder, over the embankment.
DOWN ANGLE INTO RAVINE, past Sarah and Reese, as the car
trundles down crashing through the underbrush to dis-
appear among the trees.
Reese looks out across the valley and the lights of L.A.
A helicopter circles in the distance, searchlight on.
Let's get off the road.
182 INT./EXT. DRAINAGE CULVERT - NIGHT 182
ANGLE LOOKING OUT from the mouth of an enclosed concrete
storm drain that passes under the road. Reese, followed
by Sarah, trudges down the slope and ducks inside.
The floor is wet but he doesn't seem to mind.
They both hunker down with their backs to the concrete,
facing each other.
They look beaten, grimy, exhausted.
She huddles under the blanket, waif-like.
She sits beside him and they wrap their arms around each
other with the blanket covering both of them.
Reese...you got a first name?
Kyle, what's it like when you
go through time?
White light. Pain. Like
being ripped inside out...
slowly. Like being born,
Sarah scowls and draws her hand out from under his jacket.
You're wet. Oh my god.
In the beam of the flashlight her hand is glistening
I caught one, back there.
Caught one? You mean you
It's not bad.
Sarah sits up and turns toward him.
We gotta get you to a doctor.
It's okay. Forget it.
Forget it? Are you crazy?
Let me see it.
Sarah opens his jacket and the flashlight beam shows his
shirt bloodsoaked at the shoulder.
Jeez. You idiot. Take
She cradles the flashlight between her knees and opens
the first aid kit as he removes his jacket.
(looking at the
See. Missed everything.
Passed through the meat.
Sarah starts swabbing the flesh wound.
This is gonna make me puke.
Talk about something.
Just talk. Tell me about
my son. Is he tall?
She places a gauze pad in place and starts to wrap it.
About my height. He
...damn...he has your
Sarah glances at his face for a second and then goes back
What's he like?
You trust him. He's got that
strength. You'd die in a
second for John.
Well, at least I know what
to name him. I don't suppose
you'd know who the father is?
So I don't tell him to get
lost when I meet him.
John never said much about
him. He dies. Even before
Stop! I don't want to know.
Hold still. So...it was John
that ordered you here?
It was an honor. A chance
to meet the legend. Sarah
Connor. Who taught her son
to fight...organize, prepare.
From when he was a kid. When
you were in hiding, before
She stops taping. She seems lost, her bravado dissipated.
You talk about things I haven't
done yet in the past tense. It's
making me crazy. I can't think.
Are you sure you've got the
Reese appraises her coldly.
Come on, me? The mother
of the future? Am I tough?
Organized? I can't even balance
my checkbook. I cry when I see
a cat that's been run over...
and I don't even like cats.
She pulls the bandage tight with a knot.
Ow! No, it's okay. It's
And anyway, what do I know
about guerrilla warfare?
Look, Reese, I didn't ask for
this honor and I don't want it.
Any of it.
John gave me a message for
you. Made me memorize it.
'Sarah"...this is the message...
'Sarah, thank you. For your
courage through the dark years.
I can't help you with what you
must soon face, except to tell
you that the future is not set...
there is no such thing as Fate,
but what we make for ourselves
by our own will. You must be
stronger than you imagine you
can be. You must survive, or I
will never exist.' That's all.
Sarah stares at him as the enormity of it all becomes real
to her. Reese moves his arm, testing the bandage.
You like it? It's my first.
He rebuttons his shirt and they return to the warmth-
conserving embrace. Sarah gazes out the entrance, into
Sleep. It'll be light soon.
Okay. Talk some more.
About where you're from.
Kyle watches the helicopter circling far in the distance.
You stay down by day, but at
night you can move around.
The H-K's use infra-red so you
still have to watch out.
But they're not too bright.
John taught us ways to dust them
them. That's when the infiltra-
tors started to appear. The
Terminators were the newest,
During his monologue we have PANNED into the darkness outside
and to the helicopter, which flies OUT OF FRAME, leaving
black. A ROTOR ROAR fades up.
CUT IN BLACK TO:
183/FX EXT. CITY RUINS, 2029 - NIGHT 183/FX
Black sky. Stars.
With a roar an AERIAL PATROL CRAFT enters close overhead.
It has flashing red and blue lights and powerful search-
lights which stab down.
to a vista of moonlit devastation.
White ash blows in drifts among fire-gutted ruins.
Blackened bones lie everywhere in heaps.
Searchlights sweep the night.
Another aerial unit hovers several blocks away, firing
tracers into the ruins.
184/FX EXT. RUINS/STREET - NIGHT 184/FX
as a gleaming chrome H-K grinds through the debris of the
shattered street on its tank-like tracks, crushing burnt
Its head turns slowly, playing high-intensity lights over the
Its hydraulic arms are folded, mantis-like, against its
'torso'. After it passes a number of human figures dart
from shadow to shadow, B.G.
185 INT. TUNNELS - NIGHT 185
Reese is among a SQUAD OF MEN in black fatigues, carrying
equipment and energy rifles, who enter a debris-littered
PANAGLIDE WITH THEM as they trot through a labyrinth of
tunnels, pass several guard-posts. Reese has a GERMAN
SHEPHERD on a short leash.
186 INT. PARKING STRUCTURE - NIGHT 186
The platoon enters a cavernous chamber, an old parking
structure, in which a large group is gathering.
As the entrance, ARMED SENTRIES with dogs are passing in
new arrivals: men wearing mismatched uniforms or rags and
carrying all types of weapons from lasers to shotguns.
Weapons are left at the sentry post.
FOLLOWING REESE as he patrols the perimeter.
He walks along a row of CARS, models from the eighties and
nineties, now stripped, rusty and modified to carry weapons.
There are conventional military vehicles as well.
He passes several family groups.
Gaunt kids are huddles around an old TV SET.
Its glow bathes them.
REVERSE ANGLE reveals that the set has been gutted and a
small cookfire crackles inside the shell.
Nearby a kid has a LARGE RAT cornered and is whacking it
with a stick.
Reese pauses at the end of the row of vehicles and unsnaps
a pocket in his tunic, removing a small paper rectangle,
a worn photograph.
C.U. - REESE, gazing down. His head snaps around at the
sudden sound of BARKING.
ANGLE ON SENTRY POST as the dogs go crazy.
An innocuous, RAG-DRESSED MAN flips back his poncho to
reveal a powerful PLASMA-RIFLE. He opens FIRE, running
forward. ENERGY BOLTS rip into the crowd.
MOVING WITH REESE, running toward the Terminator.
POWERBOLTS EXPLODE among the fleeing people.
Beams sear the darkness.
A running CHILD is BURST by a plasma hit.
ANGLE ON REESE running. He levels his energy-rifle and
starts firing. A powerbolt grazes his cheek, EXPLODING
a support column behind him. Part of the ROOF COLLAPSES
as Reese tumbles.
Everything is lit as if by lightning.
C.U. - REESE, semi-conscious. Burned. Bleeding.
Impressions implode on him: running feet, flashes, energy
beams raking the ground leaving molten worm-tracks, scream-
ing, a burning dog howling.
DETAIL - The picture Reese has been looking at has fallen,
forgotten. It catches fire and starts to curl. Before
the image vanishes we see that it is a picture of Sarah.
Reese looks up.
A figure looms above, a silhouette in the smoky, hellish
glare. THE TERMINATOR. Its eyes glow red.
A brilliant EXPLOSION WHITES OUT THE SCREEN.
187 INT. CULVERT - DAWN 187
C.U. - SARAH, brightly lit by daylight. Asleep. She grimaces
In the distance a dog is barking.
Reese, still holding her, lightly lifts her hair from her
face. An uncharacteristically tender gesture. He gently
caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers. When
she awakens suddenly he snaps his hand away.
Sarah looks around, momentarily disoriented. Looks up at
I was dreaming about dogs.
Reese extricates himself from her and steps out of the
We used them to spot Terminators.
Sarah groans as she straightens her legs.
Your world...it's pretty
189 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAWN 189
Sarah catches up to him just as he is about to try and
stop an approaching car. She pulls his gun hand down with
both of hers.
Put that away. I'll get one.
She hold out her thumb to passing traffic.
Reese watches this incomprehensible ceremony skeptically.
189A EXT. HIGHWAY/PICKUP - DAY 189A
Reese and Sarah are crammed into the cab of a beat-to-hell
PICKUP TRUCK with the DRIVER, obviously a surfer. Laid-
back, long-haired and well-tanned.
Reese glowers and watches the scenery through slitted eyes.
...and when it breaks right
off the point they get some
pretty rad tubes up there.
Not awesome, but I mean, worth
the drive, if you're hardcore
He's a surfer.
You from back East of
No, he's from the future.
Whoah. I hear that.
Listen, I had a rough
night. I gotta stop and
bag some Z's.
They pull off the highway toward a gas station/rest area.
190 EXT. SERVICE STATION - DAY 190
The gas station is like an oasis of clutter in a rolling
stretch of meadows and woods. It consists of a bunker-
like building with restrooms and a flanking PICNIC AREA,
beyond which are WOODS.
People sit under the trees, enjoying the beautiful day
while children tear around after the forced inactivity of
a long trip.
The three of them get out on unsteady legs.
You can still ride if
you wanna hang out for a
Bag some Z's?
Let's get cleaned up, Kyle.
She heads for the WOMEN'S RESTROOM and Kyle follows her
(pushing him out)
Yours is over there.
Instead of following her directions to the Men's Room,
Kyle wanders toward the drinking fountain. A bunch of
kids are running around and throwing water at each other
with paper cups.
Reese shambles through them like a zombie.
He stands among the children, an alien in this land without
fear. He watches people at picnic tables laughing and
listening to portable music. Kids squeal. Dogs bark.
LITTLE GIRL (V.O.)
Can you get my balloon?
DOWN ANGLE on an achingly beautiful LITTLE GIRL of about
four. She points above his head.
Reese looks up to see a helium-filled mylar balloon stuck in
the foliage of a tree just above him. He pulls it down by
the string and holds it, turning it over dully.
He crouches down to her eye-level. She smiles.
Aren't you afraid to be out in
the open like this?
Reese whirls reflexively at a SCREAM behind him. The
mylar balloon bursts in his tense hands. A teenage girl
is being doused with water by the boys with plastic jugs.
The little girl looks at the broken balloon, then glares
at Reese. She punches him soundly on the shoulder and
At this moment she is bowled over by an IRISH SETTER that
licks her face while she shrieks with laughter.
Reese seems about to smile but doesn't quite know how to
go about it.
191 EXT. SERVICE STATION/PAY PHONE - DAY 191
Sarah is talking on an open pay phone.
...I know, Mom. This is the
soonest I could...I know.
Mom...Mom, I can't talk long.
No, I'm okay.
I was on TV? Really?
Oh no, I hate that picture...
why didn't you give them my
I'm okay, really. Listen, I
want you to pack some stuff
and go up to the cabin for a
few days. Just don't...no,
don't ask any questions.
Just do it. I gotta get
going...gotta go. Bye, bye.
Sarah has been idly leafing through the DIRECTORY. On
a whim she looks up something.
She freezes for a moment when she finds the listing.
Then with a triumphant expression she rips the page out
of the book.
192 EXT. SERVICE STATION/PICNIC TABLE - DAY 192
Sarah is sitting at a table under a tree, lettering
something with a lipstick on a cardboard box-flap.
E.C.U. - SIGN, as the last letters are finished.
FULL ON SARAH as she retracts the lipstick and leans
across to hand it to a girl at the next table.
Thanks a lot.
Sarah looks up, startled to see him standing beside her.
That's where we're going.
Sarah point to the directory page lying on the table.
MACRO - PAGE
Sarah's finger points to a listing which reads:
CYBER DYNAMICS CORPORATION
18144 El Camino Real, S'Vale
ANGLE ON SARAH AND REESE
She looks smug.
Look. I found it. Isn't
that it? Cyber Dynamics
What about it?
Didn't you say that they're
going to develop this
revolutionary new thing...
Whatever...they become the
hotshot computer guys so they
get the job to build El Computer
That's the way it was told
Sarah's fear has been replaced by excitement.
Well, we're gonna uninvent the
bastard. Eighty-six it. We'll
blow up the place...burn it
Tactically dangerous. We
Reese. Think it through.
We can prevent the war.
Nobody else is gonna do it.
If we go to anybody official
we wind up back in jail and
then that walking cuisinart
has got us again. We have to
so it ourselves.
That's not my mission.
Listen. Understand. I'm
not a military objective,
Reese. I'm a person...
You don't own me.
Reese takes her arm and pulls her to her feet.
Let's go. Time to move out.
Fuck you! Let go of me!
She jerks her arm free. He reaches for her again but
she outdistances him, running.
She dashes down a footpath among the trees, clutching her
sign. Reese follows her into the woods.
193 EXT. WOODS/CLEARING - DAY 193
Only a few yards from the picnic area, the woods take over
PANNING WITH SARAH
as she runs down the path.
Reese tackles her from behind and they fall together in
the long spring grass.
She struggles violently to get away.
She gets one arm free and whacks him hard in the face.
Reese reacts instinctively, leaping back in a defensive
crouch. Sarah freezes when she sees the .357 in his
Oh, that's real smart.
Go on, shoot me. That's
Reese is trembling as he lowers the gun.
Sarah too is shaking with emotion. Tears roll down her
cheeks and her voice cracks.
Jesus Christ, Reese. Can't
you see I'm scared?
He straightens up and his arms go limp at his sides.
He turns away.
I can't spend my life waiting
for that thing to catch up
with me...always looking over
my shoulder, wondering if I
left some tiny clue behind...
Reese doesn't respond.
The gun slips from his fingers.
His will seems to drain from him and he sags to his knees.
The moment stretches.
There is only the sunlight moving in shafts through the
leaves, the sound of a small stream nearby, birds chirping.
She crawls over to him.
C.U. - REESE
in profile, with Sarah in B.G.
His eyes are closed.
A tear meanders down his cheek.
I'm wrong here. I wasn't
meant to see this...
He gestures at their surroundings.
It's...like some dream.
He touches the grass, the trunk of a tree.
...and you...all so...beauti-
ful. It hurts, Sarah. More
He looks are her beseechingly.
Don't you understand...it's
Sarah puts her arm around him.
She sniffs and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.
We can change it, Kyle. We
have to try.
She takes his shoulder in her hands.
There's no fate but what we
make for ourselves. Right?
Come on. Let's go, kiddo.
He picks up her sign and they look at each other for a
second, then get up.
194 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 194
Terminator sits in his room with the blinds drawn tight.
Murky. Claustrophobic. With knife-slits of hot sunlight.
MEDIUM ON TERMINATOR
sitting on the edge of the bed.
His appearance isn't improving.
A patch of SCALP is blown away, revealing CHROME underneath.
A flap of skin dangles from his cheek, which exposes some
of the DRIVE CABLES which move the lips.
He is scanning Sarah's address book, turning a page every
C.U. - TERMINATOR
his eyes tracking rapidly. His skin is waxy, WHITE, BRUISED,
GANGRENOUS in places. He ignores the FEW FLIES crawling
on his face.
194A/FX POV - TERMINATOR 194A/FX
Showing Sarah's book.
In microseconds the handwritten entries are translated
into CRT-type characters and displayed to one side of the
screen. This updates instantly as the page is turned.
195 INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY 195
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN with a torn T-shirt covering his paunch
knocks on the door. He is wheeling a trash cart.
Hey, buddy, you got a
dead cat in there of what?
196 INT. TERMINATOR'S HOTEL ROOM - DAY 196
TIGHT ON TERMINATOR
as he looks up.
197/FX POV - TERMINATOR 197/FX
The digitized image PANS to the door and a LOGIC-FLOW
DIAGRAM appears overlaid in color-coded words. It con-
cluded with a list of potential appropriate responses:
PLEASE COME BACK LATER
FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE
The last begins to FLASH, and enlarges to fill the screen.
198 RESUME ANGLE
Fuck you, asshole.
He returns to his scan.
199 INT. CORRIDOR - DAY 199
The man shrugs and walks down the hall.
200 EXT. MOTEL - DAY
The two fugitives walk toward an economy motel of the
two-story park-by-the-door variety.
Sarah turns to wave as a TRACTOR-TRAILER pulls away noisily,
heading back to the Interstate. The driver answers her wave
out the side window. Reese stops for a moment outside the
motel office to pet a GERMAN SHEPHERD sitting on the porch.
The dog wags its tail and licks his hand.
Reese opens the door and they go in.
201 INT. MOTEL OFFICE - DAY 201
Reese pulls a crumpled wad of bills from his jeans and shows
it to Sarah.
Is this enough?
Yes. And I don't want to
know where you got it.
She turns to the desk clerk, a female version of the pawn-
We need a room...with a
202 INT. MOTEL ROOM - DUSK
Kyle and Sarah enter the spartan room.
I'm dying for a shower. You
could use one too. And we'd
better check that bandage.
Later. I'm going out for
materiel. Keep this.
He hands her the .38 he took off the detective.
She takes it without thinking as he leaves then realizes
that she has A LOADED GUN IN HER HAND, without the slightest
idea of how to use it. She lays it gently on the dresser.
As an afterthought, she turns it with one finger so that it
is pointing the other way.
Sarah moves the curtain slightly and looks outside.
203 EXT. MOTEL - DUSK 203
Reese walks away toward a commercial area visible down the
204 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 204
Sarah is on the phone, her hair still wet from a shower.
She sits on the bed with a towel wrapped around her.
...No, Mom, I can't tell you
where I am. I was told not
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
But honey, I need to know where
I can reach you or I'll be
worried sick. It turns out I
can't stay up here...the
electricity's off...and I don't
know just where I'll be.
Sarah hesitates, then:
Okay, here's the number. Are
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
205 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 205
SLOW PAN around the room as the conversation between Sarah
and her Mom continues, completely VOICE OVER.
It's 408-972-1439. Room 14.
SARAH'S MOM (V.O.)
I got it.
The PAN continues, revealing an overturned chair.
Okay, I've gotta go. I'm
sorry I can't tell you very
much now, Mom. I love you.
The PAN comes to a table. Smashed plates. Spilled coffee.
A spatter of blood. A phone. It follows the phone cord
onto Terminator in CLOSE-UP as he continues in a perfect
simulation of her mother's voice...
TERMINATOR (MOTHER'S VOICE)
I love you too, sweetheart.
206 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 206
Sarah hangs up the phone, vaguely disturbed.
207 INT. MOUNTAIN CABIN - NIGHT 207
Terminator rapidly dials the number Sarah gave.
TERMINATOR (HIS VOICE)
Tell me your address there.
208 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 208
TIGHT ON SEVERAL GROCERY BAGS
covering the counter beside the hot-plate in the tiny
Reese's hands split one open and its contents spill out.
Sarah looks through Reese's haul.
Let's see. Corn syrup.
Ammonia. Moth balls...
Mmm. What's for dinner?
There are also boxes of shotgun shells, road flares, tape,
scissors, pans, a strainer and many other odd utensils,
Bit more stable. I learned
howto make it when I was a
Sarah looks a bit stricken as she contemplates the evening
209 EXT. HIGHWAY/CHEVY CAMARO - NIGHT 209
The dashlight illuminated Terminator from beneath as he drives
through the night. He looks like Death. His left eye
glows a faint red in the darkness.
210 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 210
A heartwarming domestic scene.
Sarah and Kyle have pulled the dresser out to use as a
worktable. Pans, packages and bottles clutter the kitchen,
B.G. On the table between them are eight ten-inch lengths
of PLUMBER'S PIPE, threaded each end. Kyle is showing
Sarah how to tamp the HIGH-EXPLOSIVE PUTTY into the pipe
bombs and seal them shut.
Make sure there's none on the
threads, like this. Now screw
the end-cap on...very gently.
You must have had a fun child-
That's good. Now, seven more
like that while I make fuses.
I was thinking, there's so
much I've got to show you
when we get through this.
It's mind boggling, the pos-
beach, movies...matinees with
popcorn and foot-long hot dogs...
I want to buy you a hot dog so
bad,Kyle...all the things you've
never seen and done. You're here,
but wherever you go, and whatever
you touch, you bring the war with
My whole life has been combat.
I want it to be over for you.
I want it to be over for me too.
I feel like I slipped over some
invisible line, that I'm in your
world now. Everything's the same,
but I see it differently.
It's like, there's you and me,
and him...but nobody else can
understand or help or even touch
Reese looks up and finally catches her gaze. He reaches
out for her hand and it seems he may be taking it to
But he turns her wrist to read her watch.
We'll head out at 0200.
That gives you four hours
to sleep if you want. I'll
211 INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 211
ANGLE ON TABLE - The bombs are neatly ranked, finished.
A nylon satchel lies nearby. The mess is cleaned up.
WIDE SHOT reveals Reese sitting in silent vigil at the
window. The room is dark, lit only by a streetlight
Sarah is asleep on the bed.
Reese sits cross-legged, shirtless, his body held rigid.
The image of discipline. The .357 is held loosely in one
hand on his lap. There is a fresh bandage on his shoulder.
Sarah wakes up and goes to him in the darkness. He looks
at her for a moment as she sits beside him, then back outside.
He'll find us, won't he?
Probably. Sarah, if I get
Don't say that.
If I do, you have to get away,
disappear without a trace.
Different country, different
name, everything. In case they
send another one.
It'll never be over, will it?
Look at me, I'm shaking.
Some legend, huh? You must
be pretty disappointed.
No. I'm not.
Several beats before Sarah speaks again. Her eyes seem
luminous in the dark.
Kyle, the women in your
time...what were they like?
That's not what I meant.
Was there someone special?
A girl. You know.
He looks away, outside the window
Sarah studies him for a moment.
She's sitting slightly behind him and she puts her hands
on his shoulders and back, tracing the lines of his scars
with her fingertips.
So much pain.
Pain can be controlled.
You disconnect it.
And so you feel nothing.
It's better that way.
Reese takes a long, slow breath before he answers, and when
he does his voice has a new quality, an unfamiliar tenderness.
John Connor gave me a picture
of you once. I never knew
why. It was very old. Torn.
Faded. You were young, like
you are now. You weren't
smiling...just a little sad...
I always wondered what you
were thinking at that second.
He closes his eyes, reaches toward her. His fingertips
trace the contour of her nose, chin, cheeks.
I memorized every line, every
He opens his eyes, looking right at hers.
Sarah, I came across time
for you. I love you.
I always have.
Sarah is quietly overwhelmed.
Reese looks away.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't
She leans forward and kisses him.
His face is frozen. A mask.
She continues, tenderly.
He begins to respond.
The dam breaks and he holds her in a tight, trembling
embrace, clinging to her like life itself.
Kyle picks her up and carries her to the bed.
She kisses his neck and chest, tracing his scars with
He unbuttons her blouse very slowly.
Sarah guides his powerful hands over her.
A SEQUENCE OF CUTS. DETAILS. IMPRESSIONS.
Sarah, a very close angle, as she grimaces in divine agony.
Reese, his face rapt.
His hand, clutching the pillow as if to kill it.
It is explosive, torrential. A confluence of fate and will.
212 INT. MOTEL ROOM/LATER - NIGHT 212
TIGHT ON SARAH AND REESE in each other's arms. Lying
across his chest, she surveys his face as his eyes close
I bet you're ticklish.
Sarah's hand moves OUT OF FRAME. After a moment Reese
looks down, puzzled.
What are you doing?
You'll beg for mercy in
Reese seems unperturbed. Finally he begins to squirm.
I don't think I like this.
You're not supposed to.
Now Reese is becoming desperate. A grimace spreads across
his face. It becomes a grin. Then he's laughing, trying
to escape but she won't let him, and they collapse, laughing
Sarah gazes at his grin, a glimpse of the Reese that might
have been, in another life.
A moment later the grin vanishes at the sound of dogs barking
Reese is off the bed in an instant, crouched tense, eyes
alert. Feral as ever.
Listen to the dogs.
213 EXT. MOTEL OFFICE - NIGHT 213
The German Shepherd, barking furiously, LUNGES TOWARD
CAMERA repeatedly, at the end of a chain.
A dark figure moves by in the F.G., out of the dog's reach.
214/FX INT./EXT. MOTEL/TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 214/FX
The digitized view is image-intensified, bright and stark
as a lunar landscape. PAN OFF the lunging dog to the row
of rooms facing the parking lot.
HANDHELD as we approach the doors.
It is WIDE ANGLE and the barrel of the AR-180 is visible at
the bottom of FRAME.
The nearest vehicle parked in front is a LARGE PICKUP TRUCK
WITH TWO DIRT BIKES lashed in the bed, seen prominently as
The POV approaches a door. Number 14.
The door is KICKED OPEN.
The assault rifle sprays the room, exploding the indistinct
forms on the bed. Staccato glare. Approaching the bed.
Nothing there put the shredded remain of sheets and pillows.
The POV shifts to the BACK DOOR, which is ajar, and moves
toward it. Through the door. Revealing an EMPTY YARD.
215 INT. PICKUP TRUCK/PARKING LOT - NIGHT 215
Reese is under the dash, playing with the wires.
Sarah lies on the seat, clutching the nylon satchel, which
bulges with the explosive charges. She has dressed hastily
and is barefoot.
Light it now.
Sarah has been holding a BIC LIGHTER near the tip of a fuse.
She thumbs the flame on. The fuse catches as Reese twists
the wires and the engine starts to turn over.
216 INT./EXT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT 216
Terminator spins at the sound of the truck engine catching.
FAST PANAGLIDE WITH HIM as he runs the
length of the suite, stops outside the front door.
Whips the AR to his shoulder.
The truck is BACKING WILDLY across the lot B.G.
Terminator turns, looking into CAMERA as a SIZZLING SOUND
DETAIL - PIPE CHARGE, lying just inside the door, in the
shadows. The fuse is burning.
WIDE SHOT - On doorway, from the parking lot, as Terminator
takes two leaping strides forward and the CHARGE EXPLODES.
The front of the building is BLOWN TO KINDLING.
Terminator is flung forward by the blast.
217 EXT. STREET/PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 217
PANNING RAPIDLY as the truck shoots out of the parking lot
and tears down the street.
218 EXT. MOTEL - NIGHT 218
Terminator lies face down, motionless, F.G., as the debris
from the blast settles. A YOUNG GUY ON A HONDA 750 crosses
the parking lot and stops near him, running forward.
Terminator starts to get up, moving slowly.
Don't try to move, buddy.
MOVING WITH TERMINATOR as he shoves the cyclist aside and
approaches the BIKE, which is STILL RUNNING.
219/FX PARKING LOT/TERMINATOR'S POV - NIGHT 219/FX
Digitized POV, approaching the cycle. The image reduces
to GRAPHIC OUTLINES, with separate systems COLOR-CODED.
It breaks down suddenly into individual SIDE, TOP and PLAN
VIEWS. All in less than four seconds.
220 INT./EXT. FREEWAY/PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 220
Reese slides the truck into an ON-RAMP and guns in onto the
freeway, burying the throttle. Traffic is light...a few
18-wheelers. The truck tops out at 110 and he holds it.
They flicker rapidly through pools of light and shadow.
ANGLE OVER REESE'S SHOULDER as they hurtle forward. An
interchange flashes by in an instant.
PACING WITH THE TRUCK, looking back as a single headlight
arcs radically across all lanes behind them and grows
221 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 221
LOW WIDE ANGLE preceding Terminator on the bike. He is
tucked, getting as much speed as possible out of the 750.
As he GAINS ON THE CAMERA, FILLING FRAME, he unslings the
assault rifle. Raises it against the windstream in a one-
handed pistol grip.
222 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 222
Reese motions Sarah to keep her head down. He pulls the
Colt Python from his coat pocket. Steering with his elbows,
he checks the load. Snaps the cylinder shut. Glances in
the rear mirror. Turns the wheel.
223 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 223
WIDE ANGLE, following close to Terminator, as he closes on
the pickup, B.G. The truck swerves suddenly, diving around
a TRACTOR-TRAILER. Terminator leans hard to follow.
LOW WIDE ANGLE preceding the pickup and Terminator as they
swerve as high speed. Reese uses the slow semis as static
obstacles. He misses them by inches, TIRES SQUEALING.
ANGLE OVER SARAH'S SHOULDER, through the front window as
the back of a SEMI-TRAILER hurtles toward them, straight ahead.
HIGH ANGLE, following both vehicles as Reese feints RIGHT
and then skids LEFT. He slides toward the trailer in a
FOUR-WHEEL DRIFT as Terminator commits to the right.
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, over the barrel of the AR, as he FIRES.
SIDE ANGLE - PASSING TRUCK-TRAILER, bullets strafe across
it as the pickup vanishes behind. Terminator skids the
bike, barely missing an abutment, and is forced onto an
LOW SIDE ANGLE preceding Terminator as he roars down the
off-ramp without slowing. Runs the red light at the bottom
as a hundred miles an hour. Climbs the ON-RAMP.
224 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 224
Sarah is buffeted as Reese fights to control the skidding
truck. The angle is past Reese, F.G., on Sarah.
Terminator appears B.G., converging rapidly as the on-ramp
joins the freeway.
Switch places with me.
She slides over him while he keeps the hammer down.
225 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 225
Reese is out the window to the waist, aiming double-
handed. He FIRES. ONCE. TWICE. AGAIN.
They enter an interchange. Ahead lies a LONG, SWEEPING
CURVE, two lanes wide and elevated.
Terminator rocks back from a round between the eyes that
bares metal, the FIRES.
Bullets rake the pickup.
The windows are blown out.
The side mirror explodes.
Reese is hit. Drops the .357.
Sarah screams and weaves, barely in control.
226 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 226
Sarah reaches across and pulls Reese's limp body back
inside. He slumps on the seat, moaning. Stunned.
He has a bullet in the chest. Another has broken his arm.
Sarah feels all hope recede.
227 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 227
Terminator crosses behind the truck, coming up on Sarah's side.
Sarah shrieks as the doorpost next to her head CLANGS WITH
The short burst EMPTIES THE GUN.
It CLATTERS TO THE PAVEMENT a moment later, discarded.
Terminator draws the .38. Takes aim.
Sarah SCREAMS. HITS THE BREAKS HARD. CRANKS THE WHEEL.
GLASS behind her EXPLODES with gunfire.
SWERVING VICIOUSLY the truck SLAMS THE BIKE, sending it
FLYING INTO A GUARDRAIL. Terminator goes over the handle
bars at a hundred miles per hour.
228 INT. PICKUP TRUCK - NIGHT 228
Sarah fights the wheel, losing control of the slewing pickup.
229 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 229
Terminator hits the pavement, tumbling, rolling, sliding
with a CHATTERING SCREECH and spraying sheets of SPARKS
as flesh strips away and steel screams on concrete.
The pickup SWAPS ENDS violently, smashing into the guardrail.
Terminator hits the guardrail, bounces up, tumbles along the
top and then pitches OUT INTO SPACE.
230 EXT. INTERSECTING FREEWAY - NIGHT 230
Terminator smashes to the pavement in the middle lane and
lies there, face-down. Still.
231 INT./EXT. PICKUP/OVERPASS - NIGHT 231
Sarah is slammed hard as the truck grinds to a stop against
the guardrail. She checks Kyle. He is barely conscious.
Sarah heaves open the door. Runs to the guardrail. Looks down.
232 EXT. LOWER FREEWAY - NIGHT 232
After a long moment Terminator slowly rolls over and sits up.
LOW ANGLE as he rises into FRAME, a mass of blood. Clothing
and skin in tatters.
HEADLIGHTS FLARE behind him and an AIRHORN BLARES.
FULL SHOT as a DOUBLE-TRAILER KENWORTH GASOLINE TANKER smashes
him down and under with a METALLIC CRASH.
ANGLE UNDER TANKER as Terminator rolls, clattering, and the
mass blurs above him. He RICOCHETS between the pavement and
the speeding undercarriage until a stray bounce flings him
up into the rear suspension.
233 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 233
UP ANGLE ON SARAH
at the railing, looking down. She raises one fist into
the air triumphantly.
234 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 234
The stunned DRIVER hits the brakes. His PARTNER grabs
They lock eyes for a moment.
I have to, man.
235 EXT. FREEWAY/TANKER 235
ANGLE UNDER THE REAR TRAILER
Terminator clings with inhuman strength to the rear suspen-
sion. The pavement blurs by beneath him. The air brakes
236 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 236
Sarah watches the truck roll on without leaving a body
in its wake.
She feels a premonitory dread.
237 EXT. FREEWAY/TANKER - NIGHT 237
Beneath the braking semi, Terminator CRAWLS UPSIDE DOWN,
hand over hand like a HUMAN FLY, toward CAMERA. The
left eye GLOWS LIKE A COAL in the dark. As the pavement
stops beneath him he drops off and rolls out from under
238 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 238
The driver looks around in astonishment as his door is
Terminator appears. A grisly apparition.
FLINGS THE DRIVER OUT and takes his place behind the wheel.
Ignoring the terrified partner, he examines the controls.
238/FX POV - TERMINATOR 238/FX
In digitized cyborg-vision we see an ABSTRACT OF THE
INSTRUMENTS. The shift lever is extended graphically
down into a three-dimensional SCHEMATIC OF THE TRANS-
MISSION. Analytical DATA PRINTS OUT RAPID-FIRE.
239 EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - NIGHT 239
From the railing Sarah sees the tanker below as
a body falls beside it, rolling.
The truck swings in a slow arc.
TEARS THROUGH THE DIVIDING FENCE.
Heads back toward her on the wrong side of the freeway.
She stares in numb horror.
The nightmare refuses to end.
She runs to the crippled pickup and sees a front tire flat,
shredded by a crumpled fender.
She searches the cab frantically for the KEYS TO THE
MOTORCYCLES. Finds them above the sun visor.
Sarah leaps into the bed of the pickup and attacks the
motorcycle strap-downs frantically.
Panting with terror she rolls the bike off the truck.
It crashes on its side and she falls on it painfully.
Straining until she CRIES OUT INVOLUNTARILY, she lifts
KICKS the engine over.
as the tanker crashes back through the divider and starts
UP THE OVERPASS. Sarah is trapped in that concrete corridor.
She kicks for her life.
The bike catches for a moment. Dies.
The truck BELLOWS, down-shifting on the curving grade.
Sarah kicks again and again, crying out with each stroke.
Again and again, furiously.
The engine CATCHES.
Come on, come on, come on
The bike runs with a healthy roar.
up the face of the tractor-trailer, the retaining wall blur-
ring by. Terminator's red eye can be seen through the wind-
Sarah drags Reese, stumbling,to the bike, props him on the
seat behind her. He clutches the satchel weakly.
Hold on real tight, okay?
She guns the engine and roars off.
as the tanker demolishes the pickup a moment later, TOSSING
IT OVER THE SIDE LIKE A BEER CAN.
240 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 240
Sarah hits level freeway with a quarter-mile lead on the
tanker, distant B.G., but the little bike is overloaded
and she can't coax it above seventy-five.
ANGLE ON TANKER roaring forward, shifting up through
CLOSE ON SARAH AND KYLE, his head lolling on her shoulder.
He starts to fall sideways.
Hold on, goddamnit!
He rouses slightly, gripping her tighter.
HIGH ANGLE - MOVING WITH BOTH VEHICLES as Sarah starts to
ZIGZAG desperately across all four lanes. The truck stays
with her, closing, its trailer WHIPLASHING VIOLENTLY.
241 EXT./INT. TUNNEL - NIGHT 241
The truck is right behind them as then enter a TUNNEL.
A half-mile of exitless concrete and strobing fluorescent
M.C.U. - SARAH AND KYLE (PROCESS SHOT) - He blinks and looks
back at a SOLID WALL OF METAL AND LIGHTS looming behind them.
Sarah hunches down. They hit eighty.
FULL SHOT - The leviathan dwarfs them, its big tires ROARING
like the hubs of Hell.
242 EXT. FREEWAY - NIGHT 242
The tanker is twenty feet behind them as they clear the
tunnel. Sarah dodges to one side and LOCKS THE BRAKES.
The bike slides, fish-tailing.
The truck roars past, hitting the air-brakes.
The trailers force her closer and closer to the guardrail
as Terminator tries to sandwich her.
The bike slides to a stop.
The rearmost set of trailer wheels slams into the guardrail
right in front of Sarah.
Sarah emerges from a cloud of tire smoke, cutting across
all four lances behind the stopped semi.
243 EXT. FREEWAY EMBANKMENT - NIGHT 243
Sarah tries to ride down the steep embankment but loses
control, spilling the bike. She and Kyle tumble down
MOVING WITH HER as she scrambles, half-dragging Kyle, through
a row of trees at a chainlink retaining fence. She crawls
under the fence, tugs Kyle and the satchel through after.
Sarah looks up at the source of a SUDDEN THUNDEROUS ROAR.
243/FX ANGLE ON TANKER 243/FX
It appears above them, grinding over the embankment. It
rolls down the steep slope TOWARD CAMERA, FLATTENING TREES.
244 EXT. INDUSTRIAL SITE - NIGHT 244
Sarah and Kyle scramble up and run across the STORAGE LOT
of a MODERN FACTORY COMPLEX of LOW BUILDINGS. Kyle struggles
to keep up, holding the satchel.
LIKE A JUGGERNAUT the truck follows, smashing through parked
cars and FLATTENING A PRE-FAB STORAGE BUILDING.
They enter an alley-like space between two buildings.
Kyle is fumbling to open the satchel.
ANGLE BACK as the tanker enters the alley. It TEARS THE
CORNER OFF ONE BUILDING as it turns in. Terminator looks
down from his mountain of steel.
245 INT. TANKER CAB - NIGHT 245
OVER TERMINATOR'S SHOULDER, looking down at a tiny figure
below, running in the headlights' glare. It is Sarah, alone.
246 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 246
Reese crouches in a TRASH-DUMPSTER which is sandwiched
between the wall and the tanker. There are only inches
of clearance as the trailers pass by.
He lights a PIPE CHARGE, jumps up and wedges it under the
tank-cylinder of the second trailer.
He ducks as it rolls on.
Sarah is stumbling in the glare of the truck's lights.
E.C.U. - PIPE BOMB, the fuse burning.
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, through the windshield, his eye glowing.
C.U. - REESE huddles in the dumpster.
247/FX LOW WIDE ANGLE ON SARAH AND TRAILER (PROCESS SHOT) 247/FX
The REAR TRAILER EXPLODES. An unbelievable FIREBALL ERUPTS
SKYWARD, silhouetting Sarah's running figure F.G.
The dumpster is enveloped by fire and hurled, rolling, down
Sarah makes it around a corner as the FORWARD TRAILER
EXPLODES and an OCEAN OF FLAME rolls forward, blasting by her.
The dumpster topples and Kyle rolls out, surrounded by fire.
248/FX SEQUENCE - TERMINATOR 248/FX
In the center of the inferno Terminator struggles violently.
His FLESH FIRES AND SIZZLES. He tears loose from the
TWISTED WRECKAGE and collapses to the ground. Sinks into
a CHARRED MASS. STOPS MOVING.
C.U. - TERMINATOR, mouth open, skull-like, motionless
in the flames.
249 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 249
Sarah crawls away from the intense heat and lies watching
the motionless figure in the blaze.
250 EXT. ALLEY/FAR END - NIGHT 250
Sarah rounds the corner, staggering, searching.
She sees Kyle crumpled face-down near the dumpster, sheltered
from the heat by its mass.
She drags his away. Rolls him over.
C.U. - REESE, his head lolls. He opens his eyes
We did it, Kyle. We got it.
She hugs him.
250/FX FULL SHOT (PROCESS) 250/FX
They hold the embrace, silhouetted by the diminishing flames.
It would be a wonderful final image.
Except...TERMINATOR STAGGERS OUT OF THE BLAZE BEHIND THEM.
M.C.U. - TERMINATOR, the last flakes of flesh are falling
from him like burning leaves. His gleaming structure is
revealed in all its intricacy. No longer a 'He', but an 'It'.
It looks like Death rendered in steel.
A CHROME SKELETON with HYDRAULIC MUSCLES and TENDONS OF
FLEXIBLE CABLE. In the sockets of the metal skull, the
eyeball swivels with a WHIR of tiny servos, both glowing
It turns slowly and fixes its gaze directly INTO CAMERA.
251 EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 251
C.U. - SARAH - She chokes on a scream, crams knuckles in
FULL SHOT (FX), as the machine takes a step toward them,
dragging one MALFUNCTIONING LEG.
PANAGLIDE WITH KYLE AND SARAH as they stagger to their feet
and run to the nearest building. They come to a glass door.
Kyle kicks it in. Unlatches it. They enter dark OFFICES
to the sound of ALARMS and DISTANT SIRENS.
252 INT. CORRIDORS - NIGHT 252
Sarah and Kyle run down a corridor.
Through a door, which they close and lock.
They move off down a cross-corridor.
The Terminator BLASTS THE DOOR OFF ITS HINGES, F.G., and
staggers through. It starts after their receding figures
as they round the corner at the end of the hall.
253 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 253
Wracked, exhausted, they stumble through a maze of PARTI-
TIONED OFFICE CUBICLES.
254 INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT 254
The Terminator catches sight of them through a floor-to-
ceiling window. It makes an unhesitating right turn through
255 INT. OPEN OFFICES - NIGHT 255
Sarah and Kyle look back at the sound of SHATTERING GLASS.
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING THE TERMINATOR as it crashes forward,
line-of-sight, through the maze. It splinters partitions.
Flings desks out of the way.
FOLLOWING SARAH AND KYLE as they reach a heavy FIREDOOR and
256 INT. MANUFACTURING AREA - NIGHT 256
Kyle slides the bolts on the metal firedoor. Behind them
are acres of machinery in darkness. Silence.
CRASH! The Terminator hits the door from the far side.
Kyle goes to a LARGE BREAKER PANEL and opens it. Starts
throwing switches. Behind them, machines START UP ONE BY ONE.
What are you doing?
He sags, sliding down the wall. She pulls him up.
Half-carries him into the maze of machines.
The dark gallery is filled with WHIRRING, CLANKING SHAPES,
SHATTERING CONVEYER BELTS and improbable mechanisms lashing
Reese slips to the floor and Sarah is no longer able to
Leave me here.
Sarah crouches beside him.
Grabs his shirt front.
Yells over the machines.
I'm not leaving you anywhere
you jerk. Haven't you figured
it out? Kyle, John is our
Reese's eyes refocus.
There isn't going to be
anybody else...I don't want
anybody else. Listen to
She pauses, then resumes in a commanding, military shout.
Move! Reese! Let's go.
Move you ass!
She drags him to his feet and he staggers on.
Hinges SHATTER and the firedoor is hurled inward.
The Terminator scans the darkness.
ANGLE - PANNING WITH SARAH AND KYLE as they move through
The cyborg steps forward, scanning methodically.
Sarah and Kyle move in a crouch through the treacherous
tangle of pipes and machinery. Kyle picks up a length of
pipe to use as a weapon. As they climb out onto a cat-
walk between the two huge mechanisms, Sarah clambers over
an innocuous CONTROL PANEL.
Her knee inadvertently hits a RED PUSH BUTTON.
With a ROAR the stamping-plate of a HYDRAULIC PRESS slams
down an inch from her hand.
Startled, she tumbles to the catwalk.
The Terminator's eyes swivel as he hears the single non-
Kyle and Sarah run to the end of the catwalk, but find the
door there locked.
They double back to escape the cul-de-sac. The Terminator
steps in front of them, cutting them off.
He pushes Sarah roughly and she stumbles away.
Kyle raises the pipe with his good arm as the Terminator
Run, damn it!
She hesitates, backing away.
The cyborg swings at Reese
STEEL CLANGS ON STEEL.
Kyle strikes and parries but is sledgehammered back.
ANGLE ON CATWALK as Kyle lands in a heap, smashed against
a stanchion of the railing which prevented him falling to
the factory floor twenty feet below.
Sarah turns and runs.
LOW ANGLE PAST REESE, F.G., as the cyborg approaches him.
E.C.U. - A FUSE BURNING.
C.U. - KYLE'S FACE streaked with blood, pressed to the
floor as a metal foot CLANGS DOWN, F.G. His eyes snap open.
Sarah falls, gets up, runs on.
The Terminator draws back for a death blow.
And Kyle rolls with the last of his strength, raising
the pipe bomb he has been cradling. He jams it between two
hydraulic cylinders just beneath the cyborg's armored rib-
cage. Then rolls off the catwalk. Terminator has an instant
to react, reaching for the bomb, before it EXPLODES.
Sarah is pitched forward by the blast and slides on the
Slams up against one wall.
A withering spray of shrapnel strafes the walls around her.
Pieces of scrap metal clatter throughout the factory, rain-
C.U. - SARAH, very still. She winces and opens her eyes.
Slowly looks up.
POV - SARAH, as the smoke clears. The Terminator is GONE.
Unrecognizable clumps of BURNING DEBRIS lie scattered about.
Looking down through the grating floor she sees Kyle's
LOW ANGLE ON KYLE F.G., Sarah on catwalk above. Kyle's eyes
are half-open. Still. His face peaceful.
ANGLE ON ONE OF THE FIRES climbing some plastic tubing and
triggering a SPRINKLER HEAD. It begins to rain.
C.U. - SARAH sitting up as the water runs over her.
She looks down. Protruding from her right thigh is a TWISTED
PIECE OF METAL. Shrapnel. Part of the cyborg. She pulls
it out, grimacing. Her leg is broken.
It is a long time before she can gather the will to move.
SARAH'S POV - She sees a WALL PHONE several yards away,
beyond the debris from the explosion.
She starts to crawl toward it.
She passes A LARGE CLUMP OF DEBRIS, F.G.
ANGLE ON DEBRIS (FX) as it rolls over suddenly!
Now recognizable as the TERMINATOR'S HEAD AND ARMS, with
half of the scattered torso trailing wires and twisted
IT LUNGES FOR HER!
Sarah wants to scream this time, from the depths of her
soul, but there is no scream, only a dry shivering sob.
The Terminator drags itself SCRAPING over the floor, steel
Sarah is shaking and whimpering as she scrabbles away,
crawling in agony.
ANGLE ON CONVEYOR BELT as Sarah flops from the catwalk
onto the MOVING STRIP. She is carried into the intricate
lattice of equipment. Sarah rolls off weakly before going
under a set of sorting rollers.
ANGLE THROUGH MACHINERY - ON THE TERMINATOR (FX) as it crawls
after her, dragging its body. It tracks her unerringly,
Sarah moves deeper into the DARK, CLASHING JUNGLE of machinery.
Around her is a rain-drenched tangle of CABLES, PIPES and
unforgiving mechanisms of steel.
The Terminator clambers through after her.
C.U. - SARAH - Water pours into her eyes as she catches
sight of something. A familiar CONTROL BOX.
She drags herself toward it.
C.U. - THE TERMINATOR (FX) - It spots her wedged in a tiny
crawl space. No way out.
It crawls the last few feet,EYES RED IN THE DARK.
Hypnotized, Sarah watches the Terminator REACHING TOWARD HER.
She is jammed in a corner.
Sarah's hand claws around to the front of the control panel,
seeking the RED BUTTON.
E.C.U. - HER WET FINGERTIPS FEEL THE BUTTON.
ANGLE ON THE TERMINATOR (FX), his steel hand reaching out.
E.C.U. - SARAH, her face inexplicably calm, eyes steady in
that infinite instant. She clenches her teeth to keep
from screaming as she WAITS.
The Terminator's hand reaches for her throat to crush
the life out of her and end its long mission.
E.C.U. - BUTTON, as her bloody finger stabs it down.
FULL SHOT, showing how the cyborg has been led into the
MAW OF THE HYDRAULIC PRESS.
THE STAMPING PLATE THUNDERS DOWN!
Tons of mechanical pressure flatten the Terminator's head
and body like tin-foil. The PRESS SCREAMS, jamming solid.
Lightning snaps out in one brief blaze, leaping to surround-
ing machinery, arcing to Sarah's wristwatch. All the
Terminator's energy is released in one second.
ANGLE on the narrow gap between the upper and lower plates:
a pinpoint of red light DWINDLES AND GOES OUT.
TIGHT ON SARAH, shivering uncontrollably. The steel fingers
are frozen an inch from her throat. She can only stare as
water runs over her.
257 INT. FACTORY - DAWN 257
CLOSE ON the side rail of an ambulance gurney SNAPPING UP
into position. Sarah's eyes are closed and she is moved
OUT OF FRAME.
WIDE SHOT, showing the gurney being rolled by TWO ATTENDANTS
past the site of the last explosion.
SEVERAL POLICE OFFICERS are picking through the debris.
PANNING WITH THE GURNEY as it is wheeled out, holding on
TWO FACTORY EMPLOYEES, F.G.
One, the PLANT MANAGER, bends to examine a piece of the
cyborg lying at the base of the hydraulic press.
A COP, B.G., notices this.
Look, I told you not to
touch anything until we're
done. You got that?
Sure thing, officer.
He stands and palms a small object to HIS ASSISTANT. They
step around the corner.
What is it?
Microcomputer chassis. But
I've never seen stuff like
Weird. Jap stuff, maybe?
Keep it out of sight and
get it down to R and D
Monday, first thing.
258 EXT. BUILDING - DAWN 258
Sarah is being lifted into the ambulance. She looks
up as the doors are latched shut.
TILT UP to follow her gaze.
The sign above the entrance of the building reads:
CYBER DYNAMICS CORPORATION
SLOW DISSOLVE TO:
259 INT./EXT. LANDROVER - LATE AFTERNOON 259
MACRO ON CASSETTE RECORDER, the center capstans of a
...and the hardest thing is
deciding what I should tell
you and what not to. Well,
anyway, I've got a while yet
before you're old enough to
understand the tapes. They're
more for me at this point...
to help get it all straight.
COVER SHOT reveals Sarah as the wheel of a dusty landrover
parked at the pump island of a tiny gas station. All of
its signs are in hand-lettered Spanish. Beyond lies an
expanse of scrub desert. The sky scowls with an impending
Sarah speaks quietly into a hand microphone as a dark-
complected attendant laconically fills her tank. She
cradles the cassette recorder in her lap, in the lee of
her SWOLLEN BELLY.
She looks to be about SIX MONTHS ALONG.
Under her down vest she wears a leather shoulder holster
and the butt of a .357 REVOLVER presses against her
breast. She tugs the vest closed as the attendant glances
her way. A German Shepherd sits in the back among taped
boxes and suitcases.
Should I tell you about your
father? That's a tough one.
Will it change your decision
to send him here...knowing?
But if you don't send Kyle,
you could never be. God,
you can go crazy thinking
about all this...I suppose
I'll tell you...I owe him that.
And maybe it'll be enough if
you know that in the few hours
we had together we loved a
CLICK. WHIR. Sarah jumps at a sound nearby, breaking
her reverie. A small MEXICAN BOY has snapped her picture
with a beat-up Polaroid camera. He holds it out to her,
speaking rapid Spanish.
He says you are very beautiful,
Senora, and he is ashamed to ask
five American dollars for this
picture, but if he does not,
his father will beat him.
That's a pretty good hustle,
kid. Four. Quatro.
The boy takes her four dollars and she watches the
snapshot develop. It is a good photograph of her,
the wind lightly ruffling her hair, expression thought-
ful, slightly sad.
We recognize it as the one Reese carried in 2029.
She slips it into her short pocket.
Mil trescientos...fifteen dollars
As she pays him, distant thunder rolls.
The boy yells something in Spanish as he runs off.
What did he say?
There is a storm coming in.
Sarah gazes at the thunderheads building up out over the
desert. Heat lightning pulses in their depths.
CAMERA CRANES UP as she pulls away, driving across the
flat desert on a ribbon of highway. A brilliant flash
crescendos from horizon to horizon out at the rim of the