Actor Point >> Movie Scripts >> Hellraiser: Deader Film Script

Hellraiser: Deader Movie Script

Writer(s) : Clive Barker, Neal Marshall Stevens, Tim Day

Genres : Horror, Mystery, Thriller

Search IMDb : Hellraiser Deader

                     HELLRAISER: DEADER

                       Screenplay By

                   Neal Marshall Stevens

                       Revisions By

                         Tim Day

   We roll credits over-

   Peal tight on a pattern of brown and black textures. The
   image begins to shake. Slow motion. Graceful.

   WE HEAR a low rhythmic THUMP, THUMP, THUMP...

   The surface slowly peels off like flecks of dried old paint
   as we pull back a little wider and realize that we're looking
   at an OLD DOOR.


   The door continues to rattle. Something or someone is behind
   it, desperately fighting to get out.

   Wider still to include the rusted, worn doorknob twisting
   back and forth and shaking. Whatever is in there -- it's
   locked inside.

                                               CROSS DISSOLVE TO:


   It's almost pitch black in here as a few beams of light fight
   their way through holes in the torn black window shades of
   this flop-house apartment.

   Te take in the scene. A young WOMAN, mid-twenties, lies on an
   old mattress tossed on the floor in the center of the room.
   There's a MAN asleep next to her with his arm around her.
   About a half-dozen others, in various stages of nakedness,
   are sprawled unconscious around the room.
   WE BOOM DOWN and as we do we-


   We're in the middle of a crack/X party the night before.

                                                     LASH CUT TO:


   Our YOUNG WOMAN (AMY KLEIN) moving through the party. She
   reaches into the pocket of her long black coat and lifts out
   a TAPE RECORDER. She clicks it on and slips it back into her

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   THE MAN from our opening shot offers her some X. She lets him
   place it on her tongue and then she swallows it. He smiles,
   pleased, and turns to leave. She quickly but slyly removes
   the X from her mouth and flicks it away.         F
                                                    LASH CUT TO:

   Later. The party in full gear. Things are really starting to
   get weird here as the crack pipe starts to make it's way
   around the room.

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   Amy's putting on a full "X" performance, taking the crack
   pipe and quickly passing it on, pretending to be too far gone
   for another hit, all the while studying the other partiers
   with a keen reporter's eye.

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   Later. After everyone has left. The sun is coming up. Amy
   alone with the MAN. He's half-naked on the mattress, trying
   to pull Amy close. Amy's looking for a safe exit, but she's
   stayed too long and he's starting to get a little rough with
   her. A wrong move now could push him over the edge.

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   Amy's vision starts to blur. Did he slip her something?

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   He pulls her onto the bed with him and starts to undress her,
   she can't fight him off. But then his eyes roll back in his
   head and he passes out.

                                                   FLASH CUT TO:

   Amy looks around the room which is starting to swirl. She
   tips out of frame and we-

                                                         CUT TO:



   Back to scene as Amy's eyes flutter open, quickly adjusting
   to her unfamiliar surroundings. She freezes for a beat, then
   after determining that the Man is asleep, she slides her way
   off the mattress and rolls quietly onto the floor.
    he's relieved when she finds that she's still dressed.

   She snatches a small TAPE RECORDER off the ground and clicks
   rewind -- satisfied.

   She snatches a half empty pack of smokes off the floor and
   she's gone.


   A big sign identifies this old brick building as the home of
   "The London Underground" -- a weekly newspaper in the
   "Village Voice" mode, only scuzzier.



   A pair of elevator doors open. AMY KLEIN exits and walks
   towards camera. She's all in black, from her black sneakers
   and black stockings up to her tinted glasses and jet black
   hair. The only thing about her that isn't black is a
   complexion so translucently pale that it bespeaks only the
   most rare and grudging familiarity with daylight. She has a
   paper coffee cup and a cigarette in the same hand, and she
   alternates sips of coffee with puffs of her cigarette with a
   practiced proficiency. She ignores the unhappy looks of her
   fellow employees. She clearly has practice at this as well.

   Little office cubbies scattered around a converted loft
   space. "Too Hip" EMPLOYEES sit at their desks, typing at
   computers, conferring at tables -- going about the business
   of turning out another issue. They point and whisper as Amy
   walks by.

   Amy passes another cubicle as A YOUNG REPORTER holds the
   newspaper's FRONT PAGE up in front of Amy. A big headline
   reads, "How to be a Crack Whore" written over a photo of a
   crack den in which we glimpse things better left unseen.
   Beneath the headline is written, "A special report by Amy



                        YOUNG REPORTER (O.C)
              Nice reporting Klein. How `bout you show
              me what you learned?

   Amy is already past him, she throws back a middle finger for
   a response.

                        YOUNG REPORTER (O.C.)
              Maybe later.

   BETTY, 50ish, her glasses hanging on the tip of her nose,
   sees Amy coming.

              Hey, Amy...


              Morning? It's half past four.


   Betty gives a broad gesture over her shoulder, pointing
   toward the Editor's office across the work space. Amy heads
   across the way, toward the office. Betty picks up the phone.

                  (on phone)
              Mr. Rickman... Amy's here. Right.


   CHARLES RICKMAN, the Editor-in-Chief, is an Englishman in his
   early forties, sporting a pony tail which, like a moustache
   on a sixteen-year-old, only serves to emphasize his true age.
   He's fiddling around with some sort of TV/VCR set up, and is
   looking away from the door as it opens and Amy enters behind

                  (without turning)
              Ah, I detect that unique and ubiquitous
              combination of female sweat and patchouli
              oil that signals the arrival of...

   He turns toward a dour Amy.




              ...the delightful and world-famous Amy
              Klein. Have a seat, angel of light.

              Eat me, Charles.

              It's exactly that lack of respect for
              authority that got you fired from the New
              York Post.

              I wasn't fired. I was re-assigned.

              Of course. Where would you be without me?                
              By the way, I don't recall ever being                    
              thanked properly for this "re-                           
   Charles makes air quotes with his fingers.

                        CHARLES (CONT'D)                               
              Lucky for you I opened my doors to you                   
              here as soon as I heard you were                         
   More air quotes. Amy walks over to a "trophy table" where
   she looks over a cluster of framed photo's. She points to one       
   of her and Charles, smiling together. More innocent times           
   for both.                                                           
              I seem to recall a rather similar                        
              "reassignment" with you, Charles.
              Touche'. Well, thanks to international                   
              conglomerates and the Euro-dollar I,
              along with Mother England, am blessed                    
              with your acquaintance, yet again. 
              Hey a contract's a contract.

   She holds up the cassette recorder.

                        AMY (CONT'D)                                   
              Look, if all this about me being late                    
              with the crack whore story It's all right
              here -- and it's gold. I was just about


              It's not about the crack whores, I'm sure
              you're working your usual unrestrained
              insightful magic on what I'm certain will
              be another eye-opening expose. I expect
              nothing but brilliance -- in five
              thousand words or less.
              But this is better.

   Amy spots an open container of Chinese food on Charles's
   desk. She inspects it, then picks something out of it with a
   pair of chop sticks.

              So what then? Are we being sued again?

              Hmm? Oh no.
                  (sees her eating)
              Please feel free to have some of that.

              Thanks. What is this? General Tso's cat?

              Spare me the "Nothing comes close to New
              York Chinese" speech just this once. Go
              on, sit down. Just something I wanted to
              show you...

   He heads back over to the VCR. Amy ditches the Chinese food
   and picks up her coffee again. She sits, lights another

              Okay... rewind, rewind? Rewind.

   He finds the button, presses it and turns back to Amy.

              Somebody mailed us this thing around two
              weeks ago but, in keeping with our usual
              level of efficiency, Betty didn't get
              around to opening it `til this morning.
              Then she brought it to me.

              What is it?

   Charles closes the door.


              What's the matter? This X-rated or

              Something. Amy, with your encyclopedic
              world-wide knowledge of skank-ology --
              have you ever heard of "Deaders?"

              Oh, sure. They're generally in their
              forties, kind of ex-hippy types. They
              still think Jerry Garcia is like "really
              cool" even though he's dead.

              Not dead-heads...
              Dead - ers. D-E-A-D-E-R -- S.

              You know, sometimes they wear ponytails.
              Dream about how great the sixties were.
              You see `em in the park sometimes...

              Love of my life, go screw yourself. I'm
              asking you a serious question.

              No, Charles. I've never heard of

              Watch the tape.

   Charles goes to the VCR and hits the play button. Amy
   finishes her coffee and lights a new cigarette with the still-
   glowing butt of her last one. She leans forward.


   The image flickers into view. It's handheld, low-rez, clearly
   been shot in some dingy apartment somewhere, decorated in a
   "mattresses on the floor/beer spray on the walls" type decor.
   There are around half a dozen PEOPLE there, in their twenties
   and younger. They drift in and out of frame, in and out of

   We hear a woman's voice -- clearly the person who is
   operating the camera, as the shot moves about the room. This



                  (off screen)
              Okay, okay. Here we go. There's Anna...

   The camera hesitates for a fleeting moment on ANNA, a girl
   with bright dye-red hair (on the side of her head that isn't
   shaved). Anna looks, with no particular expression and goes

   The camera turns toward a smudged mirror on the wall and we
   get a look at Marla, a twenty-ish Asian girl.

              Here's Marla Chen, official Deader
              Archivist. Hello, me.

    he camera turns toward a door as it opens and KATYA, a young
   round-faced girl with dark hair, comes out, looking a bit

                  (off screen)
              And here's the star of the show. Katya...

   She gives a little smile. The camera swings over toward a
   mattress on the floor. Some of the people are tugging a
   plastic sheet over it. One of them, and the one who clearly
   appears to be in authority -- a man with albino-like features
   -- WINTER.

              And here's our deader bed -- this is the
              scene of the crime. Crime to be...

    he camera moves in on Winter.

              And here is the fearless leader of the
              Deaders... Winter.

   Winter glances up, then dismisses the camera altogether. He
   looks off screen, then raises his hand. The room quiets. We
   hear various voices.

              Shh. Quiet. We're starting.

   Winter looks up and the camera swings toward Katya. She
   hesitates. A girl next to her starts to prompt her.

              Do you become one of us of your own free




              Are you afraid?


              Good. Fear is the place we go to learn.

   She hesitates.

              My skin isn't real. My eyes aren't real.
              My muscles aren't real. My bones, my
              heart, my veins and nerves, and flesh and
              meat... aren't real. What I see, what I
              hear, what I taste, what I touch, what I
              remember, what I think, what I feel,
              aren't real.

                  (off screen)
              Go on.

              I'm not real.

   The camera swings back to Winter, who gestures for her to
   come forward, then swings back to see her coming.

   The various people in the room gather around as she comes to
   the mattress. The camera moves this way and that, trying to
   get the best angle to cover the action. People spread towels
   on the mattress, over the plastic, as Katya, naked, sits down
   on the towels, then lays back, flat on the mattress.

    inter looks to the Black Kid standing next to him. He comes
   up with a big handgun -- maybe a .45.

              I'm not real...

   The camera moves in closer as Winter takes the gun and slips
   it into Katya's hand.

              I'm not... I'm not real...

    he slides the gun over and puts it to the side of her head.




    ...sits forward in her seat, not quite believing what she's

                Holy ... Charles...

                Just keep watching.


    Katya is breathing fast now, but we can't be sure if it's
    terror, or passion, or some combination of both. She
    continues to lie on the mattress, the barrel of the gun
    pressed against the side of her head.

                I'm not real. I'm not...

    Winter reaches out, hesitant, and cocks the gun in her hand.
    Meanwhile, we see other hands, reaching in, pressing a folded
    up towel against the opposite side of her head. Other hands
    come in and press a doubled-over pillow against the towel.

                I'm not real. I'm not... I'm not...

    She closes her eyes, grits her teeth. Her back arches.


    drops her cigarette as it burns down to her fingers. She


    Katya holds her breath... and pulls the trigger.

    There's a huge CONCUSSION as the bullet tears straight
    through her head. We can see it splatter out the other side,
    tearing through the towel and the folded over pillow, which
    catch a great blast of bone and brain.

    We hear some screams in the room.

    AMY jumps back.

                Have you called the police on this?



              Just watch...

              I want to know if you've called the

              I said, "Just watch."

              Oh, man, don't tell me that was some
              special effect...

              You tell me.

              This is sick...

              That's saying a lot, for you.

    The camera is now pointing at Winter. There is a look of deep
    tenderness in his face as he circles around and kneels down,
    staring toward Katya, who is lying, as dead as dead can be,
    on the mattress. Blood has run from the ghastly wound down
    both sides of the plastic, and towels on the side of the bed
    catch the mess.

    Winter reaches down and gently removes the gun from Katya's
    lifeless hand... and then, light as a feather, lies down on
    top of her.

    The camera moves forward and down as Marla, presumably,
    elbows her way through for a better vantage point. The camera
    moves in close as Winter stretches out along Katya's body.

    He places his lips on her forehead, kissing her lightly, then
    presses his lips against hers -- kissing her -- or maybe
    something else. It seems almost as if he's breathing into
    her. His body moves as his lungs expand and expel, and he
    seems to be struggling toward some non-sexual climax.
    AMY watches, both repelled and fascinated.




    Winter continues his odd ritual, finally taking a great final
    breath, as if he's reached the point of exhaustion, and
    expels it. Nothing happens.

    He leans in close.


    Amy leans in close as well.


    He draws in another breath -- he seems to be in agony as he
    does it -- presses his lips to Katya's dead ones, and
    exhales. The breath seems to go on forever -- longer than it

    And then, when it seems as if Winter can't breathe out
    another teaspoon of air, Katya's body abruptly twitches
    beneath him -- and then she sucks in a ragged breath. Her
    previously open and lifeless eyes, move. Her head raises up.


    She simply stares, breathing again for the first time in a
    moment, unable to quite take in what she's seeing.


    Winter, exhausted, looks down at Katya, smiling. There's
    nervous laughter, sounds of relief from around the room.
    Winter slides off of her. Katya looks this way and that,
    presumably at the others, looking down at her.

    A hand reaches down and she takes it. The camera follows as
    Winter pulls her unsteadily up to standing. All this despite
    the fact that there is still an exceedingly large and obvious
    hole in her head... the size of a dime on one side, the size
    of a half-dollar on the other.

    The others move in, touching her, congratulating her. She's
    still a bit shaky, uncertain. Then she lifts one of her hands
    to the side of her head -- the side with the big exit wound.
    She touches it gingerly, confirming that it is really there.

    Then she slowly slides her fingers IN. They penetrate her
    skull, unobstructed, to the second knuckle. Katya takes her
    fingers from this ghastly wound and stares at them, bloody.
    Yet she's alive. Fine.



    She looks up at the others, then smiles widely. The others
    move in, giving her hugs, pecks on the cheek.

    She touches the wound again. She starts laughing.

                  (as if actually realizing) it)
              I'm fine...

    She touches the wound again.

              I feel great...

    She starts laughing.

              Oh, man! Oh, man...

    The image cuts off, goes to snow. There is a moment of
    silence. Amy turns to Charles.

              What the hell...

              That's what I said.

              Have you... have you found any of

              I haven't done anything. I told you, I
              just looked at it today. By some chance
              are you... interested in pursuing this?

    Amy hesitates, shaking her head, not sure what it's all

              Look, Amy. Maybe this is just some kind
              of bull-shit shot-on-tape gore movie. And
              since that's all it can be, that's all
              you're going find, but it sure smells
              different to me. If it's bull-shit,
              you'll know pretty fast. If it's not...

    Amy, though, is only half listening, lost in her own

              How could she...


              Who said miracles can only happen at

              Who said they happen there?

    She lifts her fingers to the side of her head, duplicating
    the action of Katya slipping her fingers inside the wound.

              Amy... you know what my father said

              That all writers were queers?

              No, that was a different time. This time,
              we were driving down the block and there
              was this fortune-telling place, you know,
              this gypsy fortune telling place in a
              store front? And he said, "You know, if I
              could tell the future I wouldn't be
              living in any crappy store front."

    He looks back at the tape.

              If I could do that, I wouldn't be hanging
              out in some rundown basement. I'd own the

              Maybe they're just getting started.


              What else do we have besides the tape?

              Just a return address on the envelope.

    He holds up the envelope which is addressed to "AMY KLEIN C/O
    THE UNDERGROUND". Amy hesitates. Snatches the envelope out of
    his hand. She reads the return address.


              Looks like your online fan-base is
              growing. It's an address in Bucharest.
              It's where all the Euro-trash kids
              looking for a good time are heading these
              days. Amsterdam is so 90's.

     She's shocked that he would even know.

              Why Charles...

              I still like to keep my finger on the
              pulse, even though I know you think I
              don't have one.

    She thinks about it. He hands her a thick envelope.

              Your ticket, hotel and per diem.

    She smiles.

              You know me too well.

              It's what keeps me up at night.
              Now here's the part where I'm supposed to
              say be careful. Be careful.


              Call me when you get settled.

    She just smirks and exits.


    STOCK FOOTAGE a train rolling through the countryside.



    A cab pulls up to the front of the building. Amy gets out and
    walks up to the front door.



    She pulls an envelope out of her bag. It's the one that the
    tape came in. She checks the name on the envelope -- MARLA
    CHEN. Compares it to a name on the mailboxes.


    Amy walks past the lobby and up the stairs.


    Amy makes her way down the narrow dark hallway and finds the
    appropriate door. She knocks at it. No answer.

    She looks down and sees a lone fly crawl out from under the
    door. Then another follows, and another. She kneels down to
    inspect it.

    She leans forward and sniffs. The results are inconclusive.
    Then she lays herself flat down on the floor, presses her
    nose up against the bottom of the door and sniffs.

    The smell of dead wretched air is overwhelming.

    And that's when a large WORN SHOE steps into frame right in
    front of Amy.

                        MANAGER (O.C.)
                  (irritated, with appropriate
              Have you lost something?

    Amy leaps up in one quick move to find herself face to face
    with THE MANAGER, an older man who's a little winded from his
    climb up here. Between his teeth he clenches a half chewed,
    three quarter smoked cigar. The smoke seeps through his
    yellowed teeth.

              Yes, I ah.....

    She pats her pockets. Then tries another tactic.

              No. I'm looking for my sister. Marla

              You're not Chinese.



              She's my half sister. Same Mom. Different
              Dads. I haven't heard from her in two
              weeks so I got nervous.

    The Manager stares at her in disbelief. Knows she's up to
    something. Amy sniffs the air coming from the room again.

              Does it always smell like this in here?

    The Manager blows a bloom of smoke out of his nostrils. He
    yanks the cigar from his mouth and sniffs. Doesn't seem that
    bad to him.

              Like what?

              Look. Marla is a friend of mine and
              she's missing.

     my pulls a few American bills from her pocket.

              I need five minutes in there. Then I'll
              know what I need to know.

    The Manager stares at the money for a beat, then stares back
    at Amy. He bites down on his cigar and snatches it out of her

              Five minutes.

    He pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the door.

    Amy enters. The place is dark and cold. Eerily quiet. The
    manager stays in the hallway, he looks at Amy and taps his
    watch. Amy nods as he pulls the door closed.

    She descends down the dark hallway. Her face tightens as she
    takes in the deathly ripe air. The BUZZING of flies getting
    louder with each step.

    As she approaches a room, she recoils, clutching her face
    from the stench. She inhales -- drawing in the smell to
    acclimate herself -- and almost vomits. She steadies herself,
    drawing in breaths through her nose, tentative at first, and
    finally in larger breaths, until she can tolerate it.

     he looks back toward the entry door, she is alone.




    Amy steps in and stops, struggling to keep herself from

    No sign of anything dead. No sound except the sinister
    buzzing of flies. Amy steps cautiously in.

    She looks toward one side, sees a closet with a double
    sliding door. She slides open one side, sees nothing that
    shouldn't be there -- a ragged winter jacket, a green plastic
    raincoat, a hangar festooned with scarfs, some other garments
    still obscured beneath cleaning bag plastic.

    She hesitates, then calmly slides the other side open. More
    of the same.

    She turns in the other direction. There's a little kitchen.
    Nothing dead there. She starts forward then turns back --
    staring at the refrigerator. She goes quickly over and tugs
    it open. It's empty. Not so much as a ketchup bottle.
    Curious, she opens the freezer. The same. Empty.

    She heads through the living room and down a narrow corridor
    leading to another bedroom. At the end of the hallway is a
    bathroom. The door to the bathroom is open and the toilet, on
    the far wall, faces the door.
    Marla is there.

    Dressed only in bra and panties, she is sitting on the closed
    lid of the john, leaning forward in what seems, at first, to
    be an impossible angle. Her hands hang forward, almost
    touching the floor. Her head is cocked back, staring up. Her
    skin is gray, swollen.

    Amy takes a few steps forward, for a better look. As she
    approaches, she sees the reason for the odd position of the

    A long boot-lace has been tied around Marla's neck and tied
    to the wall pipe on the toilet. The flesh of her neck has
    swollen out, almost burying the boot-lace. She has hanged
    herself in this ghastly way.

    Amy takes another step forward. As she does, there's a sudden
    loud buzzing as the flies that crawl on Marla abruptly rise
    up, alarmed (or whatever it is flies are) at her approach.
    But they soon return to the corpse, crawling about the face,
    around the edges of the glazed, eyes, around the margins of
    the open mouth, rimmed with dry foam -- around the out-thrust



    Amy covers her mouth with her shirt, trying to filter out the
    stench. She backs away from the body and into another room.


    Amy starts to search -- fast, thorough, -- she's done this
    sort of thing before. She finds a journal, opens it... no
    writing. She tosses it aside. Pulls open a drawer. She tugs
    out what looks like a blade-less knife handle. She presses a
    stud. A STILETTO BLADE SPRINGS OUT. She tosses it back in the
    drawer, tugs some other stuff into view.

    Some bills, some shoelaces, loose change. She goes drawer to
    drawer, looking for anything that might mean something.
    Socks, ragged underwear, cheap jewelry, tee shirts and short
    skirts and jeans.

    Amy stops, surveying the territory. Where to look next? Then,
    deciding, she goes to the bed.

     She reaches under it, sliding her hand around, tugs out a
    dust-encrusted skirt. Feels around some more, hesitates,
    pulls something else out. She brings it out into view. It's a
    desiccated mouse. She grimaces and tosses it back under the
    bed in disgust.

    She stops... then slides her hand between the mattress and
    the box spring. She feels around, then stops, finding
    something. She pulls out a little red paper folder -- the
    kind that photographs come from. She opens it.

    It appears to be a photographic record of another "deader"
    party. We see some of the same participants -- we also see
    Marla herself in some of the pictures. She's smiling. Amy
    flips the next photograph.

     It shows Marla next to Winter. He's holding something in his
    hand. Amy looks closer. THE PUZZLE BOX -- Amy turns another
    photograph and it shows somebody holding the box out in front
    of Marla.

    The picture is framed through a length of rope with a noose
    on one end. Marla is on the other side-- Almost a kind of
    "joke" photo.

    She has a kind of sickly smile on her face. Amy's eyes
    narrow. She holds the picture closer. There seems to be a
    figure lost in shadows, and the closer she looks the more
    reality merges with the grains of the photo. What is there? A



    Amy hears a scratching noise coming from outside the room.
    She stuffs the book in her satchel.

    Amy turns toward the door that leads to the hall and the
    unseen bathroom. She sits, silent, waiting.
    Then the sound of the scratching comes again. The sound of
    flies rising -- and again, more distinct -- something
    scratching. She keeps her position, still listening. Nothing.
    Just the slow steady, untroubled buzzing.

    She moves toward the bathroom.

    And again there's the tiny scratching, and the rush of sound,
    as if something has disturbed the flies.

    The sound stops. The flies are still except for the
    occasional buzz.

    She advances, until she can glimpse the edge of one of
    Marla's hanging, out-thrust hands, the tip of one finger just
    touching the floor. Marla's long fingernails are painted


    She comes around the edge of the bathroom door. Marla is

    She leans from the pipe by the shoelace. The shoelace is
    still buried in her throat. The flies buzz up again.   The
    glazed eyes remain fixed in their sockets. One of her hands
    is not visible from Amy's position.. We see scratches on the
    floor beneath her fingernails.

    Amy steels herself -- and then walks closer. On the corner of
    the sink, there's a thick manila envelope with something
    bulky inside -- something that looks just like a cassette
    tape. There's a name written on it, and the marker is right
    next to it. It reads "AMY"

    Amy must reach past the corpse in order to reach the
    envelope, horribly close to the body in doing so.

    She enters the cramped space and reaches toward the sink. She
    is about six inches shy of grabbing it. She notices that her
    hip is almost touching Marla's face as she leans. The flies
    stir. The stench rises.

    She stretches closer, and Marla's body is pushed aside a few
    inches. Closer and closer AMY reaches.



    Her outstretched fingers just manage to touch the envelope.
    She pitches it and pulls it toward her.

    It falls off the sink and onto the floor behind Marla.

    Now, Amy must kneel, and reach past Marla face. She holds her
    breath as she reaches long and far...

    She manages to grab the envelope, but her face is almost
    cheek to cheek with the rotting corpse. As she pulls the
    envelope up, she notices something else in Marla's hidden


    Amy reaches over and pries open Marla's hand. Her blackened
    fingers snap as they are pulled off the box. Amy grabs the
    box and envelope, stuffs them into her bag, and stands.

    As she stands next to Marla's body suddenly-


    Amy shrieks and swats the dead hand away, falling backward
    onto the floor as she does. She rolls over and, in a half-
    crawl, half-scramble, gets herself back up to her feet.

    Amy backs up against a wall, kicking Marla as she kicks the
    floor. We can't tell if Marla is moving from the kicks or if
    she is somehow alive. Either way, its to much for Amy. She
    stops moving.

    Marla's mouth emits a ghastly sound as a stream of liquid
    falls to the floor. Its almost as if she is trying to speak.

    Amy has seen enough. Up she goes as she tears down the hall,
    through the living room and SMACK INTO THE MANAGER!

    Which needless to say, scares the shit out of her. He's
    standing inside the now open door to the apartment.

              She's dead...


              Dead! She hung herself in the bathroom.
              Call the police.


    The Manager grabs Amy by the arm. He pulls the cigar from his
    mouth and points it in her direction. Amy hears police sirens
    in the background.

               Already did. Who are you?
                   (pointing his cigar at Amy's
               What do you have in there?

    In a flash Amy twists her arm out of his grasp, and slings
    her knee up into his nuts. He doubles over.


    Amy comes flying down the hall at top speed. She reaches the
    top of the stairs and starts down... ...and as she does, her
    feet slip.

    She slides down five or six steps, then over-balances,
    throwing out her hands to keep her chin from hitting the
    polished stone steps. She keeps sliding down, finally over-
    balancing again, flipping over and landing on her back on the
    landing half-way between the floors.

    The Manager looks down the stairs for her. He doesn't even
    attempt to chase her.


               Stop her!

    He curses her in his native tongue.


    Amy breaks through the doors of the building. She hits two of
    the ten stairs down to the sidewalk. People walking by hardly

    Up ahead, a police car is turning down the street. She stops
    and walks calmly, diverting her eyes. The police car races
    by, and Amy walks faster, and faster, then runs.




    Close on a tray of ice being cracked apart. It's contents
    poured into a open towel.

    Amy is sitting on the floor in front of her couch, now
    dressed in only panties and a bra -- an image unpleasantly
    reminiscent of Marla -- especially with the spotting of
    bruises and roughly bandaged scrapes on her pale skin.

    She has a dripping ice pack in one hand, which she applies to
    this bruise and that -- and a bottle of gin in the other. She
    doesn't look happy. She takes a drink, then looks toward a TV
    and VCR in front of her.

    There's a tape half-inserted into the VCR. We can see the
    empty envelope with "AMY" written on it, lying on the floor.

      he tape is within reach of Amy's bare foot, and she lifts a
    toe toward it, hesitant. She puts her toe against the
    tape...hanging on the edge of decision. Finally, she shoves
    it forward with her toe.
    It slides into the machine. She grabs up the remote and turns
    on the set. The IMAGE appears.

    It's Marla, looking like she hasn't slept in days, sitting on
    a chair in her apartment staring into camera. Her eyes are
    glazed, distant. But she looks a hell of lot better than she
    did in the bathroom.

                   (a little sad)
              I knew you'd come. Course if you're
              watching this tape, it's already too late
              for me. But maybe you can stop it.

    Amy removes the PUZZLE BOX from her satchel. Stares at it.

              He promised us pleasures beyond anything
              we could ever imagine. We just had to
              fight through the pain first. Easier said
              than done.
              Don't open the box Amy. If you do Winter
              wins, and if he wins-
    Someone pounds on a door. Marla panics.



                Go to Pletkow station at midnight. Go to
                the south end of the platform and step
                onto the last car. Find a guy named Joey
                who runs the show and tell him I sent
                you. He'll guide you to them.


                          WINTER (O.S.)

                Save them Amy. Please...

                          WINTER (O.S.)

    Marla leaps forward and-

                Those you trust the most -- trust the

    - shuts off the camera. It goes black for a few seconds, and
    then cuts to snow.

    Amy sits, staring at the snow, her face empty. She sets the
    PUZZLE BOX on the table and stares at it. Takes a sip of her

                          AMY (TO HERSELF)
                Don't open it. Right.

        phone rings. It shakes Amy out of her fugue.

    She leans over picks up the receiver. An old style phone.



    Charles sits at his desk. He is twisting pencils in a small
    plastic sharpener.

    (Intercut conversation.)

                Don't tell me I woke you up. I won't
                believe that.


              You know I don't sleep when I'm working.
              What do you want, Charles?

              You were supposed to call me.

              You know me, I dove right in. I was
              gonna' call you tomorrow.

              The thing is... I started thinking.

              You know that's never a good thing

    Amy looks at the Puzzle box on the table. It seems to be
    reflecting the snow of the TV set in some strange form.

    She looks closer, it's an ABSTRACT IMAGE OF A LITTLE GIRL
    SCREAMING.   She compares it to the TV set, it shows only
    white static snow.

              Look. I know the crazy stuff you do for a

              That's what I get paid for.

              And that's why I hired you. It's just.
              Just... the thing is, Amy... some things
              you shouldn't do, you know what I mean?

    Charles finishes a pencil and blows off the shavings.

              Like what?

              Look, I say this to you, but in my heart
              I know that one time it's going to
              happen... that you're going to end up, I
              don't know -- dead or god knows what. But
              when it does happen, I don't want it to
              be my fault.

    She watches the image of the little girl fade.



              Okay, Charles. I'll make sure it won't

              You know, you're messing with my
              conscience, here. Amy...

              Charles, I can't do the sensitive thing.
              I don't know how. I get the message. I
              knew the message before I got it. Okay,
              Mommy? You've had a change of heart? You
              want me to come home? Well I can't. Not
              until I know the truth. So there. You're
              off the hook. I gotta go.


    Amy hangs up. She waits a moment, hesitates -- then takes the
    PUZZLE BOX from the table. She begins to explore it's edges
    with her fingers, rolling it over and over in her hands.

    It starts to unlock.

    She jumps as it begins to change shape, and sets it back on
    the table. Light seems to emanate from within as it clicks
    into another form. The table beneath it seems tremble, the
    ice in her drink taps against the edge of the glass.

      figure appears in the darkness behind her. PINHEAD. Here we
    go folks-

    THE PHONE RINGS. She nearly leaps out of the chair, striking
    the puzzle box with her hand. The Puzzle Box closes.

    PINHEAD vanishes back into the shadows.

              Charles, I get the message. OK?    Your my
              editor, not my Mommy!
                  (long beat)

    Amy waits. But there's no sound.

              Hello? Hello?

    A sound comes over the line -- a hoarse gurgling sound - a
    ghastly wet sound - the same sound Amy heard coming from the
    throat of the hanged Marla.



                    (through phone, wet choking
                Don't open...

    The line goes dead. She shoves the whole phone away from her.
    She sits, breathing fast for a second, staring at the box.
    Quiet. Only the sound of the snow on the TV.

    She stands and pulls her pants on.


    A thunderous noise trails a subway car as it streaks out of a

     Lit with cold fluorescent light, Amy, now dressed, with her
    sunglasses in place, slides her card through the slot and
    shoves through the turnstile. She descends the long, non-
    working escalator -- the only one on it at this time of
    She reaches the subway platform. It is virtually empty.

    Amy has come down stairs that land her just about in the
    middle. She scans the far end of the platform, past a lone
    FIGURE in a SHINY GREEN PLASTIC RAINCOAT who lies motionless
    on a bench.

    - a couple MIDDLE-AGED GUYS in security uniforms, maybe
    heading for some night shift somewhere, stand, not moving,
    hands thrust in pockets.

    She turns back to the bench but the FIGURE in the SHINY GREEN
    RAINCOAT is gone.

    She takes up a position at the far end of the platform. She

    A moment later, a bit of a breeze starts moving her hair. A
    few seconds later, a train comes roaring into the station.
    Amy watches the car pass her, one by one, as the train slows.
    The train is virtually empty. One car after the next rolls by
    as the train slows.

    Finally, as the train moves slowly to a stop, a car different
    from the others comes in. This one, for some odd reason,
    seems to have newspaper covering all the windows -- taped up
    from the inside.



    One of the doors of the covered car comes to a stop directly
    in front of the spot where Amy is standing -- the spot marked
    by the stenciled PUZZLE BOX. There's a pause, then the doors
    slide open -- just one the one set in front of Amy. The
    others stay closed. The interior of the car is dark -- the
    lights, apparently, are not working.

    A tall ODD-LOOKING MAN in a CONDUCTOR'S UNIFORM is standing
    there. He gestures toward the adjoining car.

              Next car.

              Is Joey on this ride?

              Come on in...

    She enters. The doors slide closed. The train pulls out.


    The interior of the car has been transformed into some odd-
    ball cross between a very small nightclub and an crackhouse..

    As the train passes out of the station, and the lights dim,
    we can see the lights from joints and crack pipes -- or at
    any rate something being smoked in some kind of pipe,
    glinting in the darkness. Various hands reach up and tug down
    the newspapers, and the tunnel lights come in, providing a
    flickering, constantly changing illumination.

    In the uncertain light, Amy can see the various CELEBRANTS
    hanging out -- some on the seats, some on the floor, some
    dressed, some partially undressed, some engaging in desultory
    drug use, others in desultory sex acts -- mostly teenagers
    and twenty-nothings.

    Amy looks around, not particularly effected by the oddness of
    the scene. The Conductor touches her arm.

              Down that way...

    She threads her way through the tangle of people. In the
    flickering lights she catches glimpses of pale human flesh,
    can't even be sure what they are.

    Expressions flash by in the flickering light, some dull,
    others laughing.


    She pretty much ignores it all as she makes her way toward
    the rear of the car. A rat feeds on the contents of a young
    woman's purse as she and another woman are tangled in

    There, illuminated in flashes, JOEY, a thin ill-shaven
    English guy in his mid-twenties is sprawled on a seat. One of
    his lower eyelids has a ring in it. It flicks up every time
    he blinks. He reads a newspaper while a woman bobs her head
    up and down in his lap.

    Joey looks up and spots Amy. He points an accusing finger at
    her, but his mood is good-natured..

              Ahhhh, now here comes a daring soul. A
              person committed to a just cause. Another
              seeker of the truth no doubt.

    Joey is clearly smitten with Amy.

                        JOEY (CONT'D)
              I like what I see inside of you.

              Are you Joey?

              I've been called worse.

    He brushes the hair of the woman in his lap, then offers Amy
    his hand.

              And I have the privilege of meeting...

    Amy looks at the woman in his lap, declines a hand shake.

              Amy Klein. Marla Chen sent me. I'm
              looking for a girl named Katya. Another
              young girl with red hair and half her
              head shaved. A guy with glasses named

    Joey's eyes narrow. Something has clearly clicked. He laughs
    slightly, starts shaking his head.

              And the plot thickens. Don't tell me
              you're mixed up with those mother
              fuckers. Tell me Amy Klein, do you even
              know what they're about?


              That's why I'm here. I need you to help
              me find them.

              Oh, jeez. Moral quandary time here...
              What should he do, what should he do? If
              he tells her -- the hopefully available
              and eminently fuckable damsel is thrown
              into the pit of oblivion -- or anyway is
              potentially fucked up for life. And that
              would be such a regrettable waste. If he
              refrains from telling her... she may yet
              be saved. A possible trophy awaits me.
              Angel and devil on the shoulder... hmm.
              Angel, devil, angel, devil. Oh, the hell
              with it Entropy's destroying everything
              anyway. Why shouldn't I do my part?
              Tell me what you know about the Deaders.

              You first. What do you think they do?

              I think they bring the dead back to life.

              Is that what you really think?

              Who are they? Where can I find Winter?

              Some people say Winter's some sort of
              fucked-up guru, some say he's not human,
              and others say he's not real. But there
              is a place they hang out -- those who
              believe I mean.

              Where is it?

    Joey hesitates. A part of him clearly doesn't want to tell.


              Angel, devil, angel, devil.


              If you don't tell me, someone here will.

              Yeah, you see, now that's the problem.
              You've got that fucked up self-
              destructive thing going on.

              I'm already into it.

              Angel, devil, angel, devil

    Amy produces the Puzzle Box from her pack. Joey looks at it
    like he's just seen a ghost.

              This is making me very unhappy...

    He pushes the woman from his lap. He's more serious now.

                        JOEY (CONT'D)
              Poteilari and Minvara. On the northeast
              corner, two doors down, there's a
              stairway going down into a closed up
              building. It's always locked, and they're
              not always there. I don't know where they
              are when they're not. And once you get
              mixed up with them -- it's like that
              story with the tar baby -- chances are
              you never get loose, and if you do, you
              never get clean.

    The "Conductor" shouts from somewhere.

              Coming in!

    Hands promptly reach up, covering the windows with newspaper.
    The Conductor goes to the door. The band finishes its set as
    the light from the station shines through the newspapers.
    Joey, looking drab in the steady uneven light, stares at Amy.

              I can't take responsibility for you.

              I'm not asking you to.

    Amy begins to walk off. Joey leans forward, for the first
    time he seems sincere, almost foreboding. He shouts over the
    breaking train.



              Amy Klein, I'm doing a change of heart
              thing here, which doesn't usually happen
              with strangers, but I'm trying to give a
              little back, it's this whole Karma kick
              I'm on -- don't do it. Don't go any
              deeper. Forget about it. Move away.
              Change your name. Become somebody

     The other members of the car watch the two of them.

              Can't do that. I've got that fucked up
              self- destructive thing going on.

              Yes you do.

    The one door hisses open. Amy stares at Joey for a second,
    turns and departs, back into the fluorescent lit station.

    Joey calls after her.

              Only he can bring you back!


    Amy stands on the platform as the door hisses shut. The train
    pulls away. She checks her watch, then moves to the other
    side of the platform. She looks down the tunnel. The light
    from an approaching train is beginning to reflect off the
    curved wall of the tunnel.

    She turns back in the direction she just looked. Far down the
    platform, there's a bench with a lone occupant - - a slumped
    over figure dressed in a SHINY GREEN RAINCOAT. She turns
    toward it, staring. In the distance, no details of face or
    form are visible -- just the lumpy figure in the shiny green
    raincoat. She takes a step toward it, but still cannot make
    out any detail in the slumped over figure. She approaches...
    as does the train. There is no sign of movement.

    She comes around, closer to the edge of the platform, to get
    a more direct view of the green-coated form. As she does, she
    sees that one hand is draped off the front edge of the bench,
    hanging limp. The hand is gray.

    Amy takes a step forward.



    His eyes pop open! He looks at her with large black eyes,
    dead eyes. Dripping from beneath his raincoat is a small pool
    of fresh blood.

    Amy gasps, takes a step back -- and her heel lands on the
    edge of the subway platform. She struggles for balance.

    Abruptly, a man's voice comes from somewhere.

              Amy Klein!

    Amy stumbles forward, goes down to her knees and turns.
    Around twenty feet behind her, standing on the edge of the
    platform, with his back toward the drop, is-

    - WINTER, wearing a black trench-coat, cinched at the waist.

    He looks down the tunnel. Amy does as well. The train is
    coming into the station. She turns back toward Winter. He
    stares at her, with malevolent eyes.

    And as the train comes flying in, he calmly falls backward,
    directly into its path.

    Amy screams.

    In an instant she's up, running alongside the braking train.
    The doors open, but virtually nobody comes out. The front of
    the train is still far ahead.

              Hey! You hit someone! Someone fell in
              front of the train! Hey! Hey!

    The doors hiss and start to close. Finally, Amy reaches the
    front window of the train. She hammers on it. It opens and a
    middle-aged WOMAN'S face leans out -- the DRIVER.

              Somebody fell... somebody fell in front
              of the train.

              Where? Where is he? Where'd he fall?

              Back there, way back...

    She looks back in the direction from which she's come. The
    bench is now empty.



              Aw, damn... Dammit!

    Amy, though, is now looking, this way and that -- at the
    confused faces of people peeking out through the doors of the
    train. There is no sign of Winter

                                                           IME CUT:


    The train is still there, doors open. There are TRANSIT COPS
    on the station, disgruntled passengers hanging out on the
    platform... TRACK WORKERS are poking around underneath it.

    Amy is leaning against one of the metal pillars, staring at
    the empty bench -- at the place where the mysterious figure
    was sitting. She's looking grim.

    Behind her, a Track Worker approaches the DRIVER, who's
    standing with a pair of Transit Cops. He's shaking his head,
    shrugging. The Driver curses, heads back toward the first
    car. One of the COPS approaches Amy.

              Well, the men have looked.

              And there's nothing there?

              You don't seem terribly surprised.


    There's a sudden hiss. Amy turns as the train doors close.

              I mean, you don't seem terribly surprised
              that there isn't somebody under the
              train.    A
              I don't know what to say. I saw him...

              Yeah. That's the thing. Can you tell me
              again, just what it is that you saw?

              Um, I was standing on the platform...



    The train starts to move out of the station. Amy looks toward
    it. The train is moving on one of the center tracks, so that
    you can look through the windows of the cars and see through
    them to the platform on the far side.

              ...and, um... I saw this man standing on
              the edge of the platform, facing away
              from it.

    But now Amy is seeing something -- through the windows of the
    moving train. On the platform on the far side, there is a
    lone figure, the man in the black trench-coat. Amy jumps,
    looks more closely.

              Did he say anyth...

              It's him.!

    In an instant, Amy is tearing down the platform, heading for
    the stairs that connect to the platform on the other side.


    Amy is watching, staring through the moving train windows.
    The figures are still there. Winter is staring at her -

              Hey, stop! Tomislav! Tomislav!

     n the next instant, the Cop is giving chase, and another
    Cop, clearly, the "Tomislav" called by the first Cop, further
    down the station, is rushing in to head Amy off.

              It's them! Over there, over there!

     n the next instant, Tomislav tackles Amy and she goes down
    on her face. Even with the rather large Cop on top of her,
    she's still struggling.

              God damn it, get off of me! Get the hell
              off of me... Get...

    She keeps struggling as the first Cop, and the others on the
    station, converge on her. She looks toward the far platform.



    The figure is still there, visible through the windows of the
    departing train. Then, the last car of the train passes,
    leaving an unencumbered view of the far side.

    The platform is empty. No sign of Winter. No sign of anybody.

    Amy stop struggling, as the Cops tug her arms back,
    handcuffing her. She hardly notices, but keep staring at the
    empty platform across the tracks. She glances up at the Cops.

      panting Tomislav looks down at her. Then circles his finger
    around his ear to his comrades. They all understand.

                        TOMISLAV (IN ROMANIAN)
              She's Crazy.


    Amy sits slouched in a chair looking particularly pale. The
    door opens behind her. She hears a familiar voice.

                        CHARLES (O.S.)
              Is this where they keep the cheaper

    Amy glances up at him, without expression.

              Christ, you're lucky to have a boss like
              me. Once again, I have saved your small
              but relatively shapely behind.

              Least you got to travel. What were they
              going to charge me with, anyway?

              Charge you? They were thinking of
              shipping you to the government asylum for
              observation -- and believe me if you go
              in there, you don't come out. But through
              my mastery of international negotiations
              I managed to convince them that you were
              merely irresponsible. You got your stuff?


              Come on.


    Slowly, feeling her bruises, Amy gets up.


    Charles and Amy walk and talk. It's pissing down rain.
    Charles hold an umbrella for the two to share.

              Why'd you give me this story?

              Who else would have taken it? Either
              they're going to think it's bull-shit, or
              they're going to be too afraid of it. But
              Amy Klein... Tell me it's real Amy.

              It's real -- or I'm crazy.

              Well, either way, it's a good story.

              I've got leads. I'll know in the end.

              You know, Amy dearest, for the average
              person, hunger for knowledge is like
              hunger... for food. We want to know just
              enough to take the edge off our appetite.
              Then we're satisfied, and we stop. But
              you... you're like a glutton. You can't
              help over-eating.

              I don't see you complaining.

              But you see, that's the point. That's why
              I need you. Because all that stuff I
              don't eat... I still want. So I send you
              in to do the eating for me, and so I get
              to experience it, without actually
              suffering any mental indigestion.

              That's for me...

              Nobody's forcing anything down your
              throat. Correct?



              You see, Amy, you never grew up with all
              this Catholic god and guilt stuff. It
              doesn't mean anything to you. I worry
              about god and heaven and hell. Not during
              the day, you understand, but around three
              in the morning, it keeps me up. I want to
              know what's coming. What's up in heaven
              and down in hell, or even if there's
              nothing. It's useful, when you're making
              plans. So go find out and we'll tell the

              You know, Charles, there's something
              vaguely demonic about you.

              Did you know, the word "demon" comes from
              the Greek word for "knowledge." As in

              No, I didn't know that.

    Charles shakes his head, disgusted.

              American education.

    They're in front of Amy's Hotel now. Charles flags down a

              Then back to your room, lie down in your
              coffin until the hours of daylight have
              passed, as is your wont -- then go get me
              my story. A

              You don't have to worry.

              I never do. I'm not here to save people
              and I'm not here to judge them. I just
              take `em as they come. And use them as
              they pass by. I'll be at the Soffitel.



    Charles hops in the cab and drives off as Amy walks up the
    steps to the Hotel lobby. Amy watches him go, waves, then
    spins back towards the curb. She flags down a cab and hops


    A ragged, run-down place, looking bleak and ugly in the
    bright light of day. We see the street sign, identifying the
    place -- Poteilari and Minvara. A cab pulls up and Amy gets

    She crosses the street, passes one side door -- and then
    comes to a building that's been sealed up -- doors and
    windows cemented shut with cinder-blocks.

    Beyond a narrow railing is a stairway, pressed up sideways
    against the building, running down to a basement entrance.
    Amy looks down the stairway to it's narrow bottom. The stairs
    and the bottom are littered with trash. A filthy mattress
    lies at the very bottom. Amy heads down.


    At the bottom of the stairs, there's a wooden door. A hole
    has been punched through it and a heavy padlocked chain has
    been threaded through it and through a heavy hasp that's been
    bolted to the door frame. Some official government notice of
    some kind has been tacked to the door -- long rendered
    unreadable by the effects of time.

    Amy inspects the padlock. It's heavy and uncompromising. She
    tugs on the door and it opens to the limits of the chain --
    but that's only a few inches. Amy peers into the darkness
    beyond, but can't see a thing.

    She looks down at the mattress that she's standing on, steps
    to the side and shoves it up.

    Then, as if the light breaks, she reaches out, grabs the hasp
    and pulls. The bolts holding the hasp to the wall are loose.
    They slide out with it. She tugs the whole thing free and
    pulls the door open.

    There is a narrow corridor beyond, all in gloom. Amy enters.


    Amy steps in, her way illuminated only by the indefinite
    light that leaks in from the street.



    There's an archway, presumably leading into the rest of the
    basement, on one side, but it's blocked by a great heap of

    Amy ponders the chances of getting through it, and decides to
    check out the rest of the hallway. She works her way through
    a series of ominous corridors.

    Amy senses that she is not alone, stops, and turns around. No
    one. She continues.

    There is only a single door left -- at the far end of the
    hallway. It hangs half-open, but we cannot see what's inside.
    She approaches it, reaches out and pushes the door open. It's
    a bathroom.

    As she enters we see a FIGURE beyond her in the hallways,
    buried in the shadows.


    This is one of those nasty little makeshift places built into
    an available corner -- basically a toilet and a sink so close
    that there's hardly room to move. A mop and some other
    supplies, long forgotten, are propped up in a corner.

    Amy steps in, looks down the toilet. Nothing left but some
    nasty stains -- the water long dried up. Her face brushes
    against something hanging in the air. She pulls back. It's a
    pull string hanging from a naked light bulb.

    She tugs on it. Nothing. No power here.

    She stands in the dark, claustrophobic place, puzzled. She
    looks back down the hall. It seems as if she's come to
    another dead end. Then she stares at the bathroom door. Open
    now, it blocks a piece of the bathroom wall -- the only place
    she hasn't looked.

    Amy steps back, virtually straddling the toilet, and pushes
    the door closed. As she does, of course, what little light
    there is, vanishes completely. If there's something behind
    the door, she can't see it, or anything else.

    Abruptly, there's a sharp click as she lights her lighter,
    and the wavering light illuminates the tiny bathroom -- and
    the previously unseen space behind the door.

    The walls do not meet there. There is a narrow gap, leading
    to a passage, apparently "between" the walls, perhaps ten
    inches wide.



    Hesitating only a moment, Amy turns sideways and slides
    herself into the claustrophobic slot. She holds the lighter
    up ahead of her, but its dim flickering light does not reach
    to the end of the passage. She moves forward cautiously --
    the floor is littered with dried chunks of plaster, rotting
    insulation -- seventy-five years of stuff crumbled from the
    insides of the walls.

    As she disappears into the tunnel, the door slowly opens
    behind her. Passing across the rusty doorknob, a menacing
    blade appears.

    Inside the tunnel, Amy reaches a vertical pipe up against one
    side of the wall - - only a few inches thick, but it reduces
    the available room to under eight inches. She hesitates.
    Meanwhile, the lighter in her hand is getting hot. She lets
    it click off. In some dim half-light we can see her slipping
    a handkerchief carefully around it, for insulation.

    She flicks the flint. The lighter lights.

    And, abruptly, around a million roaches , which had returned
    from their hiding places in the absence of the light, go
    skittering every which way.

    Amy lets out a squeak as the roaches vanish in an instant.


    She looks at the pipe again, and then starts to squeeze past
    it. It's a tight fit. She has to squirm to get through.

              Welcome to club anorexia...

    She pops free and comes out the other side. She holds up the
    lighter. Still the light cannot reach to the end of the
    passage. Steeling herself, she moves on. But as she does, the
    space seems to get progressively narrower and narrower.

    From ten inches to nine, to eight, until both sides of her
    body are scraping against the walls. She holds the lighter
    out. The wall continues to narrow.

    At the end of her outstretched arm, the walls are only around
    five inches apart.

              What the...



    Clearly, she's reached the end of the line. Annoyed, she
    starts to back out -- then realizes that the light on the far
    side of her body renders the area into which she's now moving
    essentially black as midnight.

     She brings the hand holding the lighter close in to her body,
    but she can't bring her hands together in front of her -- the
    space is too narrow. Finally, she reaches her hand up, over
    her head, passing the lighter from one hand to the other
    directly over her head.

    As she does, the lighter almost slips. She grabs for it, but
    it goes out. Again she is lost in virtual darkness.

    She strikes the flint. It flickers but doesn't light. As she
    strikes it again, IT LIGHTS SOMETHING IN THERE WITH HER! Amy
    doesn't see it, we do...


    The light returns -- now illuminating the other side of her
    body -- the way from which she's come. But, because the space
    is so narrow, she can't turn her head towards the entrance.
    Once again, the roaches go skittering away.

    And Amy starts heading "back" from where she entered. Her
    head facing away from her progress backward, trying to
    squeeze through.

    She holds up the lighter, it lights the area "ahead" which
    she cannot see. The flickering fire exposes the figure
    awaiting her.

    The walls on this side now also seem to narrow. The space
    revealed by the light is barely as wide as her fist, and
    there is only darkness beyond. Darkness, and the figure with
    the knife. Amy senses something is wrong.

              What the ...

    She continues, but now she can barely move a few feet before
    the wall becomes too narrow to pass. She pushes, trying to
    shove through the narrow gap. But she cannot move. The walls
    have literally closed in, until she is now squeezed between
    them. Panic sets in.

    Gasping, Amy pushes against the wall she's facing. Trying
    desperately to turn her head around. She forces with all her
    might to turn her head, her facial features stretching almost
    comically. She finally gets it around.



    She is face to face with the knife as it comes RIPPING
    THROUGH FRAME, narrowly missing her arm.

    Amy screams and drops the lighter. Now in darkness, she
    scurries frantically away -- back deeper into the space.

    Amy starts struggling, panic growing on her, trying to climb,
    to crouch, to tug free in some direction, but her movement is
    very limited. The walls seem to close in on her.

    She is struggling to breathe against the pressing walls. The
    figure keeps advancing towards her.

              Stop! Please stop! Stop this!

    She's flailing her arms now, frantic. The knife-wielding
    figure struggles, having difficulty as well. One of Amy's
    hands flies back and hits the wall behind her.

    Now she really panics, her hands desperately scraping along
    the wall looking for anyway out. There isn't any.

    She looks back toward her attacker, who's now right on top
    of her and raising the knife for one final blow.

    Amy braces for the blade's impact as she pushes against the
    wall when suddenly she-

    Falls backward onto the floor. Her heart pounding. Her
    breathing heavy.

    She checks her arms for wounds. There aren't any.

    She looks up. The Figure is gone.

    She stands, confused, and finds herself in an empty room.
    Some discarded junk, a pile of loose plaster. She leaps
    forward, and nearly trips on a piece of rubble to get the
    hell away from the entry. Odd thing is no entry.       
    She whips herself around towards the sound of someone sharply

    She looks this way and that, but can't see the source of the
    sound. The attacker?

    A pale light is visible, coming from around a far corner.

    Someone steps into the light. A young BLACK KID. He holds a
    finger up to his lips.



                        BLACK KID
              Shhhh... follow me.

    He signals her to follow him. Amy moves cautiously forward.


    The walls have been partially torn down. The light comes from
    an adjoining room. Amy approaches cautiously, remaining in
    the shadows, and leans forward, staring through a gap in the
    wall into the room beyond.

    The various participants, some of whom we recognize from the
    videotape movie, are standing crowded around something on the
    floor. Amy can't see just what it is that they're staring at,
    at first, but she does see that one of the ones gathered
    there is Katya, complete with the hole in her head. She
    nervously puts a a finger into the hole and inspects the

    The sound of the exhalations is coming from the unseen place.

    Then somebody in the circle moves, to get a better vantage
    point, and now Amy can see, clearly, what is going on.

    Winter is lying on top of the corpse of a YOUNG MAN,
    breathing into his mouth as he did with Katya. An almost
    sexual encounter yields the same results as the tape.

    He takes a final deep breath. And then, as before, the Young
    Man gasps. Winter pulls away. As he does, we can see the
    Young Man's face, smiling, despite the knife that is lodged
    into his chest. Winters grabs the knife and yanks it out.

    The others come forward, helping him up.

    Winter stands and somebody slips a robe over his body. He
    promptly looks straight at Amy, still hidden in the shadows.

              I have a room of my own. Kindly join me.

    He throws the knife at the wall, where it embeds itself in
    way further then it should have, and walks away. Amy moves
    away from the opening. She circles around, through a doorway,
    and into the space that she was previously watching.

    She moves forward hesitantly, trying to avoid the touch of
    the various occupants, who don't behave aggressively, but
    clearly press forward, into her personal space.

    She looks this way and that, trying to find where Winter has



    A hand comes down on her shoulder. She turns suddenly. It's
    the Black Kid. He gestures.

                        BLACK KID
              Winter's through there.

    He points toward a doorway, lost in shadow. Amy notices on
    his pointing hand that his wrists have been deeply slashed.
    She looks down to the other hand, which the kid politely
    offers for her to examine.

     Amy backs away through the crowd. Following her is the
    recently revived Young Man, who's still completely naked.
    He smiles at Amy. She moves away, and through the door to
    Winter's room.


    This is a small, dark space, light coming mostly from a
    rather conventional-looking standing lamp. In the shadows
    beyond the little space of light is a confusion of half-open
    doors, walls and shadows, half lit rooms with un-guessable

    Winter is there, sitting in a padded chair in front of a
    coffee table, reading a book. Amy steps inside. Winter
    doesn't react to her presence. Abruptly, the door closes
    behind her. She hesitates and walks forward.

              Amy Klein.

              You know me.

              I chose you.

    Amy pauses, unsure, then moves forward and takes a seat
    opposite him.

              That was a hell of a way in. Makes me
              think that you don't want...

              People come in here the way they want. If
              it was difficult, then that was the way
              you wanted it. A little danger. A little
              mystery. That's what you expected. That's
              what you found.



    Winters puts the book down.     His attention is now on Amy.

                        WINTER (CONT'D)
              Were you afraid, Amy? Just now? And
              during your little "rite of passage"
              through the walls?

              Yes. Was it real?

    Winter smiles, he displays amusement to Amy's suspicions.

              And were you afraid when you saw Marla
              Chen? Of what you found in the bathroom?


              You took something from her?

    Winter studies Amy.

                        WINTER (CONT'D)
              Do you have it with you?

    Amy opens her bag and produces the Puzzle Box.     She lays on
    the table between them.

              What is it?

              My great grandfather created that box.
              He left it as A way to cheat
              death, an entrance to everlasting
              pleasures, and it belongs to me. Though
              there are others who would disagree.

              Marla warned me about it, about you.

              Really? Should I be honored or afraid
              that you are here, Amy Klein. Do you
              really think you can just go along with
              us for a little ride and then get off
              when it suits you? Like your new friends
              on the train? You're not going to find it
              so easy to get off this train.



              So I shouldn't get on?

              Your already on it. Don't dance with me,
              Amy Klein. Don't think for a second that
              you aren't in danger. You are in more
              danger than ever imagined possible.

              What the hell does that mean?

    Winter leans into Amy's space.

              Listen to me. There are things that are
              true in the light of day. There are other
              things that are no less true, that live
              in the shadows. When you shine a light on
              them, they disappear. They stop being
              true. That's because it is the
              uncertainty of the dark that makes them
              possible. If the dark is deep enough...
              anything might be happening in it.
              Anything at all. I'm one of those things.

              What happened to Marla Chen? What did you
              do to her?

    He stands and walks away from Amy.

              Marla? Why, I accepted her, that's all.
              That's all I've ever done for the people
              who come to me.

              She didn't want to become one of you,
              whatever the hell you are. That's why she
              killed herself.

              Oh, but she did. And what makes you so
              sure she's dead?

     Winters studies Amy face.

                         INTER (CONT'D)
              We all die, over and over and over again.
              Marla can't commit suicide. All she can
              do is stop believing that she's alive.
              And she can't even do that.



                 The more she doubts, the deader she
                 becomes. But she'll never really die,
                 because she's not really alive.

                 That doesn't mean anything. What I saw in
                 that room was real. What I smelled was
                 real. Real like this table.

    She raps on the table with her middle finger, palm up. She
    then lifts her hand up keeping her middle finger towards

                 Real like, like this hand...

    In a flash, almost supernaturally , Winter passes seemingly
    through the chair and is front of Amy, her hand held tightly
    by his. He reaches up with his other hand and uncurls Amy's

                 You say this is real?

    He begins to move his fingers over her hand, enumerating the
    various parts.

                 Epidermis. The dorsal fascia. Transverse
                 carpal ligament across here...

    The process is taking on an oddly seductive quality.

                 The median nerve underneath it. Down
                 here, the carpal bones... And do you
                 think that all those parts are what makes
                 a hand? I'll show you what makes a
                 hand... here...

    He begins to move his fingers through the spaces in between
    her fingers. Amy is frozen still.



    CLOSE ON A DOOR being unlocked. We recognize it from the
    opening montage. Slowly, it is pulled open to reveal:

    A LITTLE GIRL standing there - frightened.




                           WINTER (CONT'D)
                 These spaces. That what makes a hand. You
                 get it by taking things away. You, Amy
                 Klein, are the infinitesimal speck that's
                 left when we subtract the infinite
                 possibilities that the space you occupy
                 might have held.



    The LITTLE GIRL kicking and screaming. She is pulled out of
    the closet. We never get a clear view of THE MAN, but we know
    he is pure evil.



    Close on Amy's hand, trembling in Winter's grip.

                           WINTER (CONT'D)
                     (referring to her hand)
                 This thing here isn't a presence. It's an
                 absence. It's a place where things are
                 missing. In all essential qualities, it
                 is less than nothing. In all essential
                 qualities, we are less than nothing. Not
                 solid, not here, not real.

    Amy finds herself responding, falling under his spell.



    The LITTLE GIRL is picked up under THE MAN'S arm, and pulled
    away. His groping hands move seductively, and violently. She
    is carried away out of sight, kicking and screaming.

                                                       FLASH CUT TO:



    Amy awakens from the trance. She is lying down surrounded by
    the Deaders. Winters stands above her.

              What did you see?


              What are you afraid of, Amy?

              I'm not afraid of you.

              Yes you are, but still you can't run --
              you won't run.
                  (studies her)
              I wonder why that is?
              I'm no devil. I'm no monster. Amy, I'll
              never hurt you and I'll never leave you.

    Amy doesn't answer. Winter extends to her a knife.

                        WINTER (cont'd)
              Accept my gift. No more fear. No more
              questions. No one can ever hurt you

    For a moment she appears to consider his offering. Then, as
    if waking up... she shoves herself back away from Winter.

              No, get... get away...

    But now the Dead are there, surrounding her, reaching out for
    her. They begin to chant.

    Winter takes the PUZZLE BOX and places on a makeshift altar
    at the head of the mattress.

              My skin isn't real. My eyes aren't real.
              My muscles aren't real. My bones, my
              heart, my veins and nerves, and flesh and
              meat... aren't real-



              Lie down Amy. It'll only hurt for a
              second. I promise.

              You're crazy.

              - What I see, what I hear, what I taste,
              what I touch, what I remember, what I
              think, what I feel, aren't real.

              No more pain. Only pleasure.

    The Deaders start to grab onto her. She starts to panic a

                         AMY (cont'd)

    She fights her way from the group and...


    Amy SMASHES THROUGH a vertical plane of safety glass,
    smashing it into a thousand tiny fragments as she goes
    crashing back, through it...

    Her head hits hard against a tile wall and she goes sliding
    down, in the dark, her hand scrambling for something to hold

    Her reaching hand grabs some metal handle. She pulls... and
    abruptly, water begins to cascade down onto her face.

    She turns herself sideways and rolls over, gasping. She's in
    a bathtub... in fact she's just been thrown through the
    safety-glass door. She scrambles over the bottom edge of the
    sliding glass door, scraping herself across the tiny pegs of
    glass that still line the border of the frame.

    She pulls herself up, her hand feeling for a light switch...
    Finally, she finds it, flips the switch.

    She's in the hotel bathroom, slumped over against the sink.
    Soaking wet, scratched, shaking, gasping, she stares at
    herself in the mirror.



    There's a tiny square of glass stuck into her shoulder. She
    tugs it loose. It clinks as she drops it into the sink.

              It's not real... it's not real...

    She lifts her hand to wipe the wet hair from her face... then
    pauses. She turns toward the bathtub. She reaches through the
    shattered door and turns off the shower.


    THE PHONE RINGS. She snatches it out of its cradle.


                  (through phone)
              Amy it's Charles, I know it's not too

              You just can't go too long without
              hearing my voice.

              Guilty. Look, Amy, I've been thinking
              about the story about what happened,
              maybe this isn't for you.

    Amy grabs the PUZZLE BOX off the table. She spins it in her

              Charles, you know I value your opinion-

              - she said with condescension-

              - but if there was ever a story I was
              born to write, this is it.

              I think it's too dangerous, for a lot of

              This isn't like you.


                 I know. I'm going to hate myself in the

                 I'm just a little... fucked in the head.
                 That's all. It's just a funk, but I'm
                 fine. All I need is some sleep.

                 OK. I just thought I'd put it out there
                 to see if you'd bite. I should've known
                 better. It goes against my instincts.
                 That's what I love about you. I'll call
                 you tomorrow.

                 Hey, Charles, did you know that the word
                 "demon" comes from the Greek word for

                 Yes I believe I've heard that somewhere

                 Well, I wish somebody had told me about

    She hangs up, and shuts off a light on her way to bed.



    CLOSE ON the LITTLE GIRL slung under THE MAN'S arm, as he
    carried her down the hall. She's scraping at the walls, the
    door jams, anything to try to free herself from him.

    Her hand sweeps across a small table at the end of the hall,
    smashing over a GLASS VASE.

                                                       SMASH CUT TO:


    The room is dark, drained of all color the way things appear
    when we see in them in almost total darkness.



    Amy's lying in bed on her stomach. The sheet has crumpled off
    of her. She's dressed only in her panties.

    Abruptly, there's the sound of a wettish "thud" and Amy seems
    to bounce a little. Her eyes open, but she isn't alarmed.
    Still lying on her back, she flicks her eyes this way and
    that, but, seeing nothing, she closes them again.

    A few seconds later, we see some black liquid trickle across
    her shoulder, coming from the unseen center of her back . It
    follows a course down her backbone, then swerves and finds a
    path along the inner edge of one of her shoulder blades,
    finally trickling down her neck. It continues to flow,
    staining the pillow by her face.

    She stirs slightly, clearly feeling the trickle. She puts her
    hand to her shoulder, smearing the black liquid. Still half-
    asleep, she tries to "brush" it off... but it continues to
    flow. Finally, her eyes open. She sits up painfully and looks
    at her hands -- stained with this sticky black stuff. She
    stares at it, not quite awake enough to figure it out.

    She reaches over her shoulder, pulls her hand back, stained
    with the black stuff. She looks down at her pillow, also
    stained. Confused, she rises, painfully awkward, and heads
    toward the bathroom. We can see that her feet leave blackish
    wet footprints across the floor as she moves toward the


    She moves in, stares in the mirror -- sees the side of her
    face and her shoulder, smeared with black. She fumbles for
    the light, flips it on.

     In the sudden, shocking glare of returning light, COLOR
    abruptly re-enters the world... And the black of the liquid
    that's stained Amy's face and hands, that track the floor of
    the white-tiled bathroom, that smear the wall where she
    flipped on the light switch turns instantly to its true color
    The color of blood.

    Amy gasps at the sight -- she looks like she's just crawled
    out of a slaughterhouse. She reaches behind her, feeling her
    back, trying to find the source of the blood that seems to be
    pouring out of her, dripping to the floor, pouring down the
    small of her back, staining the back of her panties a vivid,
    ghastly red.



    In a sudden impulse she turns on the water in the sink full
    blast, washes away the blood from her hands, scooping
    handfuls onto her face and the front of her body. The water
    drips to the floor, commingling with the blood, turning it a
    nasty pink.

    She reaches behind her back, feeling again -- her hand comes
    back as vividly red as before. Again she washes them. She
    stops dead, seeing something in the mirror.

    Something is glinting between her breasts. She touches her
    finger to it. It looks like a tiny bit of gleaming metal,
    poking out from inside of her, almost like a tiny steel
    splinter. It appears to have just barely broken through the
    skin from "inside" -- barely a drop of blood.

    She stands staring down at it, breathing fast. What the hell
    is it?

    Then, slowly, almost against her will, she turns her back to
    the mirror and looks over her shoulder. She sees -- and we
    see for the first time -- the center of her back where her
    questing hands couldn't reach.

    There is a knife there, literally thrust through the middle
    of her back. The gleaming splinter between her breasts is the
    tip of the knife that has literally transfixed her -- and
    clearly transfixed the center of her chest -- her heart.

    She strains her hands back, trying to reach this impossible
    thing, but her grasping fingers can't touch it. She turns
    back toward the mirror, staring into her own eyes.

              It's not real... it's not real.

    She clenches her eyes... opens them. Her fingers feel
    desperately for the metal tip between her breasts. It's still

              Wake up... wake up... wake up...

    She starts slapping her hands against the side of her face --
    not gently, hard slaps. But she isn't "waking up." She grabs
    her hair, pulls hard. Nothing. She's still there. The knife
    is still stuck, impossibly in her back.

    She sits on the closed seat of the toilet... not knowing what
    to do. She reaches again for the knife, but she can't touch
    it. She buries her face in her bloody hands.



                I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming...
                I'M DREAMING!

    She stands, turns this way and that, not knowing what to do.
    She looks around her bathroom, searching for something. She
    tugs open the medicine cabinet, searches beneath the sink,
    tugging the various stuff out. Whatever it is that she's
    looking for, she can't find it.

    She spins back to the mirror. Opens it. Slips back against it
    wedging the knife handle between the door and the medicine

    Holding one hand against the mirror, she starts to push away,
    wincing in pain.

    We can see the tiny silver tip between her breasts vanish
    from view, drawn back inside her body . Slowly, making a
    wet, sticky sound, the long thin knife begins to slide out.

    With a gasp she heaves out... and the knife goes flying. It
    bounces on the floor, splattering blood. With shaking hands,
    Amy bends over and picks it up. She stands, staring at it.
    It's some kind of nasty stiletto. Amy stands, staring at it.


    Amy searching Marla's drawers, tugging one open -- pressing
    the stud on a stiletto. ON THIS STILETTO.


    She looks down toward the floor. She is literally standing in
    a pool of her own blood. She gasps, turns back toward the

    Blood is pouring from the wound. Gasping, almost crying, Amy
    stumbles back into the main room. With shaky hands, she picks
    up the phone, then realizes that she's still holding the
    stiletto in her hand. She drops it on the table. Her bloody
    fingers press in the numbers -- 9-9-9 (emergency).

    She waits, standing in the middle of her dark hotel room,
    shaking, bloody. She can hear the phone ring and ring.

    Finally, there's a click as the line picks up. But there's no
    voice on the other end.

                Hello, hello? Hello? Is there anyb...


    Then she stops dead. There is somebody there, and making a
    sound we've heard before. The nasty gurgling that Amy heard
    when she tried calling Marla's room.

                  (through phone)
              Only he can bring you back.

    She slams the phone down, tears the cord from the wall. As
    she turns to fling it she hears the sound of a man speaking.

    She turns at the sound.

    PINHEAD is standing across the room from her, reading from
    one of the books on a tiny bookshelf in the corner.

              "--to all of us - there comes the closing
              of the doors - the entrances - the exits -
              so that one may pass no more out or

    He closes the book, turns toward her.

              Walt Whitman. I like your taste in books.

              Came with the room. Along with the
              uncomfortable couch.

    Amy puts the phone back on the table.

              Who are you? Why did you do this to me?

              I didn't. Believe me, when I want to hurt
              you, it will be more than a scratch.

              Then why the hell are you here? Why are
              you in my room?

              This isn't your room. It's mine...



              This is my room, my building, my
              street... my world. You still can't
              believe that you're in the "real" world,
              can you? I mean... you've just had a
              A knife run through you. Shouldn't it hurt?

              It's a dream. I'm dreaming...

              No. Dreams come to an end. Nightmares are

    He approaches her. She backs away.

              You've been recruited as a soldier in
              another man's war. A war he will never
              win, that I can assure you.

              I don't know what you're talking about.

              You will. Soon enough. But one shouldn't
              worship false Gods. Especially when that
              false God is themselves.

              I'm not a believer.  
              Oh you will. Tell me, do you believe in               

    Looks down at the blade jutting out from her chest.

              Starting to.

              You opened a door. He pulled you in. But              
              the only way out -- is through me.

    He steps towards her.

    She grabs up the phone, flings it. It hits the far wall and
    falls to the floor. Winter's gone. She reaches a hand behind
    her, to her back, brings it back, red with blood.




    We see Amy rolling a towel up into a tight cylinder. Hands
    trembling, she lays it across a wide strip of duct tape that
    she's unwound from a roll and laid down on the table, sticky
    side up.

     She presses the towel down so that it sticks, then picks up
    the tape, with towel attached. She slides the towel down the
    center of her back until it covers the wound, and then tugs
    the tape tight across her chest, compressing the towel
    against the wound.

    She takes the tape and awkwardly loops it around the towel
    and herself a couple more times, finally biting through the
    tape and tossing the roll away. She yanks yesterday's clothes
    up, discards the skirt in favor of a pair of black jeans.

    She tugs them up over her bloody legs, pulls a black shirt on
    over her top, thrusts her bloody feet into a pair of heavy
    shoes and finally tugs on a black leather jacket.

    She goes to the mirror, turns, trying to see how her profile
    looks with the towel stuffed in her back.

    She turns, about to leave... then realizes that her hands are
    red with her own blood. She hurries to the sink, rinses them
    off, and rinses the blood off of her face and neck, then
    grabs her bag and heads out the door.


    Amy comes unsteadily down out of her Hotel.


    More shadows than light.

    She comes around a corner and onto a narrow street, moving
    fast, her feet making loud echoey clip-clops on the street.

    There's a bum, dressed in rags, leaning up against the wall
    of a building.

    As she approaches him, he stirs slightly. Then she looks more

    The man is eating something very crunchy. He stares at her
    blankly as he picks crickets off the wall and devours them,
    one by one. He offers her one, and smiles.



    Amy leaps back, turns and runs. Some distance down the
    street, there seems to be a flicker of light, a trace of

    She scrambles toward it. It's coming up from a subway grate.
    She throws herself down on it.

    Down below she can hear the roar of a subway train passing
    below. Indirect, flickering light shines up from below.

    She looks up. There's a subway entrance. She hurries toward


    Amy comes down the stairs. No sign of life. The fluorescent
    lights flicker - some dead. Amy fumbles for her metro card.
    This is one of those unattended entrances with entry through
    the top-to-bottom turnstiles.

    She starts through the turnstile. Then with a squeak, it
    sticks and she finds herself stuck half-way through, unable
    to move forward or backward. She tries to back out, but the
    thing won't turn in that direction. She heaves forward. It
    finally gives way. She looks this way and that, back through
    the turnstile, she sees her bloody footprints leading all the
    way through.

    Amy hears footsteps echoing towards her. Through a large
    mirror at an intersection, she sees the source of the
    footsteps. A cop on the beat.

    Amy looks down and sees she is standing in a pool of her own
    blood. The footsteps get louder.

    She sees a stack of newspapers next to her on a stand. She
    grabs one and throws it down in front of herself to cover the
    blood. It soaks threw in no time. The Cop is nearing the
    corner. She grabs another, then another, and throws them
    down. The pool of her blood leaks from under them all. The
    cop rounds the corner, he has a baton he taps against his

    Amy grabs the whole stand and tips it over. With a loud
    SMASH, it spills the newspaper everywhere. As the cop walks
    in front of Amy, the blood is hidden beneath the pile of
    newspapers. Amy bends down to attend to the mess.

    She makes eyes with the Cop and shrugs her shoulders at her
    "mistake". The Cop smiles and nods, and keeps on walking.
    The sound of his footsteps vanish down the corridors.



    Amy collects herself with a few deep breaths, and moves on
    towards the platform.


    Amy stands on the platform as a train whooshes into the
    station at HYPER-SPEED then stops instantly in front of her.

    The doors hiss open and Amy is greeted by the tall Odd-
    looking Conductor. She pushes past him.


    The train lurches forward as Amy makes her way through the
    usual crowd of CELEBRANTS.

    She finds Joey sitting court in the middle of the train car.
    He's wearing a pair of terminator sunglasses.

    Amy approaches. His face seems sickly pale in the flashing

    He moves abruptly, a slight turn of the head -- toward her.

              Well look who's back. What now?

              I need... please... please help me.

              Help you with what?

    Amy hesitates an instant, then tugs open her shirt, revealing
    the gaffer's tape that holds the rolled-up towel to her back.
    She works at it. Finally, it tears. She tears it straight
    down the front of her chest as Joey watches, passive.

    Her chest is stained with blood. She licks her fingers and
    wipes the blood away from the middle of her chest. Joey's
    eyes narrow. He leans forward to study it. He leans in
    closer, hesitates, then leans back, looking Amy in the eye.

              Wow, are those real?  
    Amy doesn't react.



              Okay, you're not in the mood for my light-
              hearted banter. What the hell, this isn't
              my idea of paradise either.

              I don't understand. Why aren't I dead? Or
              am I? Please...

              Life, death, they're not all that
              different, really. You can find your
              death in your life. You can find your
              life in your death. Round and round and
              round you go.

              Please, help me.

              I am helping you.

              Then explain what the hell is going on.
              Why did I have a knife buried in my back?
              Why am I seeing dead people walking
              around? Why is there a guy with Pins in
              his head stopping by in the middle of the
              night for a chat.

    She gets in his face.

              Why am I not DEAD!

    There's a jolt as the train starts to pull into the station.
    The light from the station begins to illuminate the inside of
    the car more clearly. Joey leans back from her.

              Whoa. It's time to give in Amy, you're
              just fighting it too hard. Forget about
              the truth, forget about reality, just sit
              back and enjoy the ride. There's nothing
              you can do anyway. We're all just piece's
              in Winter's little puzzle.

              The box.

              You're willing to do anything to find the



              That's what I find most attractive about
              you. Well, that and the fact that you
              have a great ass. You and I are the same
              really, we're both willing to take it as
              far as it will go, to the edge, to the


              You know what our biggest problem is Amy
              Klein? Neither of us know when to get off
              the God damn train.

    The train jerks to a stop, tossing Amy a little. She regains
    her footage and turns back to Joey but in the flickering
    fluorescent light, Joey's skin suddenly looks sickly pale.


    He doesn't answer. He doesn't move.

              Joey come on. Let's get off the train.
              Right now, you and me.

    He still doesn't move. Amy reaches out a shaky hand and takes
    his glasses off.

                  (voice trailing off)
              You and me...

    Joey's eyes are empty, glazed. He's dead. Not only is he
    dead, it's clear that he's been dead for awhile.

    Then she freezes when she realizes the sound has completely
    dropped out around her.

    All she can hear is her heart beating.

    She slowly turns around to find that all of Joey's Celebrants
    on the train are also dead and surrounded by the familiar
    buzz of flies.

    Some of the dead are hung from the hand rails by HOOKS AND
    CHAINS, their throats slashed, eyes gouged, bullet holes in
    the head, etc...

    A large female cenobite is sewing the filleted skin from one     
    Deaders throat open to reveal his vocal chords. He makes a       
    sound at Amy and his chords vibrate.                             
    But there's this one COKE HEAD GUY who was snorting a line
    when Amy got on the train.


    He looks normal as he snorts up the last rail off his hand-
    held mirror.

    She studies him for a moment when suddenly he turns to her
    and we get a good look at his FACE.

    The entire left side of his face has rotted away and we can
    see the powdery coke lining his decaying left nostril.

                        COKE-HEAD GUY
              Looks like the party's over.

    Suddenly all she can her is the LOUD ROAR OF THE TRAIN.

    Amy stumbles back, turns to run into the next train car and
    smacks right into-

    MARLA CHEN. A horribly decaying Marla Chen.

    At first Amy is confused but then something clicks behind her
    eyes as she shoves Marla back down the train car.

              Why did you do this to me?

    The trains screeches into the station and the doors HISS

              We have to go...


              I didn't have any other choice.

    Amy looks down at her shirt as BLOOD begins to soak through

              What's happening to me?

              You're dying.
              Like me.

    Marla grabs her hand and starts to pull her along.


              Please. We've got to go!


              That's for you to decide.

    Amy looks around the platform, as if deciding what to do.
    There's a little panic in Marla's voice.

              You see, that's the problem right there.
              I'm supposed to help you. Like... Like
              Winter helped me. But I don't know if I

              Then why are you here?

              To try... Because I have no other choice.
              No turning back now-
                  (re:how she looks)
              Know what I mean?

              No, I don't. I don't know one God damn
              thing anymore.
              I just want to go home.

    Marla gives her a comforting smile.

              Then let's go home.

    They jump down to an abandoned track and head into the


    A strange twisting tunnel with eerie blue lights. Pipes
    running along the ceiling, dripping water and hissing steam.

    Amy and Marla march quickly towards camera.

              Marla what... what happened to you?



              I put my head through a noose and I
              jumped ten feet down. They cut me down,
              and Winter breathed into me, and I was
              alive. And everybody was happy... and
              like, congratulating me...

    Marla's eyes are wet with yellowish tears.

              And for a while, it was great. But it's
              like being a tightrope walker... you're
              walking along on this rope, and then all
              of a sudden, it's like you realize -- I'm
              walking on a rope a hundred feet up in
              the air. And that's when you fall.
                    struggles to control herself)
              I tried to end it. That's when you found           
              Why are you doing this? Why am I here? 
              For the reward from it all.                        

    The tunnel starts to take some weird twists and turns.

    They stop and Marla turns amy in her direction. The place
    starts to tremble, a train is approaching from far off.

              But it isn't enough for somebody else to
              stick a knife into you. You have to come
              to the point where you can do it to
              yourself -- that's the acceptance. The
              final preparation before you give your
              soul to it. Willingly.

              But why? What it is all for?

              That's the missing link. That part he
              keeps to himself. But he promises an
              eternal paradise filled with the ultimate
              pleasures. We just can't be afraid. And
              we can't have any doubts.
              Guess I screwed up on that part.



    The tunnel is narrowing, the train is right around the bend.
    Amy turns to the sound of the rumbling train.

              Fear is where you go to learn.

    Amy spins back to her. "Huh?"

              Sorry. I told you there's no turning back
              Amy. Only he can bring you back.

    Amy's attention is on the train, it roars in at full


    Amy turns around just as the train is about to run through
    them to find WINTER, arms open for her.

              (screaming over the train)
              All roads lead home.

    INT. A BED - DAY

    Amy's eyes abruptly pop open.

    She's lying on a white pillow, with white sheets tucked up
    over her. She turns her eyes to one side. There's a hospital
    curtain, the kind on a railing, pulled closed around her. She
    looks down.

    She's lying in a hospital bed. She tries to move, but she
    realizes her hands and legs are tied to the bed by large
    leather straps. Charles is there, in a chair, watching her.

              Good morning.

    He takes a sip of coffee. She struggles with the straps.

              Amy don't fight it, it's only going to
              make things worse.

    Her eyes dart around the room in a panic.

              What the hell happened?


              I didn't hear from you. I went over to
              your hotel. You were lying on the
              floor... covered in every kind of stuff
              that can come out of a human body...

    She remembers.

              The blood...

    Amy looks down at her gown, expecting a large red stain, but
    there's no blood.    

              Okay. Every other kind.

              I don't... I mean I didn't...

              You were sort of... having a psychotic
              episode, sweets. Major mental blow-out.
              And frankly, it's about time. Jesus you
              were tied down for a day and half.
                  (off her look)
              Listen, I'm trying to get you out of
              here, back to London, but with the damage
              to your hotel room... They're not going
              to be so quick to let you go.

    Amy takes a look around the psych ward. PATIENTS walking
    aimlessly, mumbling to themselves, arguing with unseen
    opponents, rocking back and forth in catatonic states.

              Look, Amy, you probably won't have to

    Amy feels a sudden rush of relief. A little nervous laughter.

              Hey, Charles, Charles... this is the best
              news I've had in a long time.

              Well, there you go. A whole new
              definition of optimism.

              What about Marla Chen? The story?


              They found her dead in her room. She hung

              They found her. You mean the police?

              Yeah. She'd been there awhile. Probably
              did it right after she sent us the tape.

              Where is she?

              Jesus, I don't know. Does it matter?

              No, I guess not.

              But this is a good story too. Call it,
              "My Psychotic Episode" -- or, wait, maybe
              "Psychotic - Episode One." Or "Psychotic
              Pilot Episode." You know, some play on
              words with episode.
                  (looks around)
              Look, there's a lot of raw material
              around here. Emphasis on the word "raw."
              Maybe they'll let you use a felt-tip pen
              or something to take notes.

    Somebody pulls the curtain aside. It's an ORDERLY. His name
    tag identifies him as M. KIRCHER. This guy's a little out
    there, like maybe he's been dipping into the medicine cabinet
    a little too much. His eyes nervously scan the room, like
    somebody's watching him.

              Well look who's back. How we feelin?

    She motions to the straps.


              Sorry. They're for your own protection.
              The way you were flailing around when
              they brought you in -- somebody was bound
              to get hurt.
                  (he chuckles to himself)
              Get it. BOUND to get hurt.


    Amy doesn't laugh. Doesn't even crack a smile.

              Don't quit your day job.

                  (to Kircher)
              What's say we lose the charm bracelets
              for now?
                  (turns to Amy)
              Unless of course you somehow find all of
              this -- stimulating.

              Don't drag me into your fantasies
                  (to Kircher)

    Kircher obliges and scribbles something on a folder at the       
    end of the bed. Charles leans over, gives her a little peck      
    on the cheek. As he does, he whispers to her.

              I'll see about getting a camera in

    He stands, winks at her.

              Feel better.
              When you get a chance, check out the
              public area. It's a swinging place. I
              mean, like, they're literally...

    He heads out. Amy watches him go. She waits a beat, and then
    hops out of bed. She looks around for Nurses and Orderlies
    but there's no one around. She exits frame.


    Blank walls lit with flickering fluorescent lighting. There's
    a TV hanging from ceiling in the corner showing TIME-LAPSE
    PHOTOGRAPHY of a blooming rose (a little homage to the
    original Hellraiser.)

    We move to find a various assortment of PATIENTS, but none of
    them are watching the TV, they're too busy entertaining
    themselves and their invisible friends.


    Amy enters cautiously, feeling a little threatened by the
    other patients. She looks around, not sure where she should
    plant herself and then she sees her-

    A LITTLE GIRL (age 6) sitting off by herself in the corner of
    the room drawing pictures. A few of them (a half human/half
    monster clawing at a closet door, a child screaming, a child
    running from the monster, a child holding a butcher knife,
    etc.) are taped on the wall behind her.

    Amy walks over to her. There's just something about her.

              Mind if I join you?

                        LITTLE GIRL
              Please. I'm drawing pictures.

              I can see that, they're lovely.

                        LITTLE GIRL
              Want me to draw your picture?

              I'd like that very much.

    The Little Girl stares at Amy and focuses in on her features.
    We can't see what she's drawing as her little hand starts to
    move across the sketch pad.

    But there's something a little off. Her hand doesn't move
    like a six-year-old would draw, it moves with the confidence
    and control of an adult's.

    Amy tries to get a glance at the portrait. The Little Girl
    pulls it close to her.

                        LITTLE GIRL
              No peaking.

              I'm sorry, you're right.

    With a few more strokes the drawing is complete. The Little
    girl studies it, pleased with herself.

    She spins it so Amy -- but not the audience -- can see it.

    CLOSE ON AMY -- her eyes wide with terror.

                        LITTLE GIRL
              What do you think?


    AMY'S POV as we get our first good look at it.

    It's Amy's face as a CENOBITE, twisted and stretched in a way
    that begins to reveal the skull around her DARK EMPTY EYES.

    There's also that nasty knife wound in the center of her
    chest with hooks stretching the skin back and to the side.

                        LITTLE GIRL (O.C.)
              I only draw what I see... Amy.

    Amy backs away from her, trembling.

              How do you know my name?

    The Little Girl giggles. Amy turns to the other drawings that
    the Little Girl has taped to the walls.
     hey too now all look like Cenobites, some look like Deaders,
    one looks just like WINTER...

              No... this isn't happening.

    Amy gets up to run but then she freezes when she sees-

    MARLA sitting on the opposite side of the room. But here's
    the thing. She looks fine.

    Amy walks over, hesitant, confused.


    Marla doesn't seem to recognize her.

                         AMY (CONT'D)

              Marla! You're alive.

              You say that like it's a good thing.

    Marla takes a long quiet look around the room and then leans
    in close, unable to keep up her charade.

              You know he's watching us.





              Winter. This is where he sends all the
              trouble makers. Tries to show us who's
              boss. Tries to make us believe.

              So it is real?

              As real as you want it to be. We all have
              our own version of the truth, some are
              just more screwed up than others. But you
              wouldn't know that, because you still
              don't know the truth.

              I don't understand.

              You will. You see that's the point. All
              this, "Deaders", "Cenobites", whatever
              you want to call it, it's all about
              solving the puzzle. Part of that puzzle
              is you. Finding the secrets that are
              hidden within you.

    Marla pokes a finger at Amy's heart. Right on her wound.

              - in there. And as soon as you find that,
              as soon as you face it, you'll be free.
              Once and for all.

     he pulls back into her chair.

                        MARLA (CONT'D)
              Me -- I'm still looking.
              But what is it all for?

              Ultimate pleasure -- more than anyone,
              even those who have solved the puzzle
              before us, have ever known. Conditions of         
              the nerve endings the likes of which your         
              imagination could not hope to evoke.              
    Marla stares at Amy deeply. The breaks into a smile.

     Least that's what they say.                 



    Marla looks around the room to see if anyone is watching her    
    and then she takes Amy's hand and leans in close.  
              Problem is Winter can't solve the puzzle.
              Only a few chosen ones -- with just the
              right amount of depravity and loneliness
              in their soul -- can.
              So he's been on this quest for years,
              searching for that mythical person who is
              both willing to join us and can also
              solve the puzzle. And it would seem, Amy
              Klein, that that person is-


              Bingo baby. Sorry.

    She's trying to give Amy a clue without tipping off anyone
    who might be watching her.

              He has to be there for you Amy. And he
              will be. Like he was for all of us.
              That's the key. Without him, you can't
              come back. It's you he wants. Its you he
              needs. Remember that above all.

    Marla looks down at Amy's chest. Amy follows her stare to
    find blood starting to soak through her hospital gown. Amy's
    eyes begin to glaze over.

              Looks like you're running out of time.

    Amy leaps up from the table and suddenly Marla is gone. In
    fact the whole room is empty and dead quiet. A pool of blood    
    lies beneath her seat. She staggers a bit as she moves          


    The main corridor. It seems to go on forever.

    Amy turns back to the common area. Empty.

    The she hears the familiar sound of A LITTLE GIRL SCREAMING.
    It's faint and echoing.


    Amy turns back down the corridor to the Little Girl's voice.

                           MARLA (V.O.)
                 It's all about finding the truth...

    Amy starts to slowly make her way down the long cold

    With each step she takes, the walls of the corridor become
    whiter, slowly bleaching out. She looks below her and sees
    the blood now draining from the wound.

    She stumbles back slowly and turns as the LITTLE GIRL'S
    SCREAMS continue.

    Then she hears the BANGING and RATTLING of a door. Like
    someone's fighting to get out.



    AMY'S FATHER half walking, half stumbling out of one of the
    rooms at the far end of the corridor. He's dressed in a
    stained white tank top shirt, his eyes glazed and distant.

    He's knows the source of the noise -- and he's pissed.


    Back to scene.

    Amy keeps stumbling down the corridor.



    Now Amy is within the flashback. She looks good, no blood,
    almost peaceful. Her father looks down the corridor toward
    Amy, but doesn't seem to see her. He turns and storms off in
    the opposite direction.

    Amy can't believe what she's seeing, but she can't help
    herself. She follows him.


    Back to scene.


    Amy is stumbling more than walking as she grows weaker with
    every step. Her eyes begin to glaze over and her vision is
    beginning to blur.

    She looks down to find the trail of BRIGHT RED BLOOD trailing
    behind her on the otherwise PURE-WHITE floor.

    When she looks back up she finds herself in-



    The hallway from Amy's childhood home. Her Father is now only
    a few steps in front of Amy as he reaches the door to his

    He turns into it and we follow Amy as she steps into the
    office behind him to find-


    The CLOSET DOOR rattling at the far side of the room. The
    Little Girl (who we now realize is a YOUNG AMY) is screaming
    on the other side. We now know this door. Her Father marches
    toward it, his rage building.


    Back to scene.

    Amy screams out to him.

                 Leave her alone!                                    


    His hand tightens around the knob.

    He opens the door, raising his free hand, ready to strike a
    powerful blow.

    YOUNG AMY stands there quietly, with the sweetest smile on
    her face.




    But it's over in a blink as she quickly buries it deep in his

    He stumbles back from the closet in slow-motion as-


    Amy screams. She reacts to the violence.

    Her vision is blurring and fading fast as her life rushes out
    of her.

    She turns back to her Father and everything is in slow-motion
    as we-


    Her Father stumbling back.

    Amy losing consciousness.

    Her Father falling backwards. The knife buried up to the
    handle in his chest.

    Amy hitting her knees and wobbling there for a beat, trying
    to hold on.

    Her Father's head falling backward.

    Amy's head falling backward onto the floor.

    Young Amy stands there and stares without emotion

    WE HOLD TIGHT ON AMY'S FACE FROM ABOVE as her eyes flutter

    And then- Young Amy all alone in the world. Stands there over
    the body. We see for the first time a smile from the young


    AMY'S EYES SNAP OPEN as we quickly BOOM UP to find her lying
    on a mattress in the middle of the floor surrounded by-

    THE DEADERS. She's in the middle of the ritual. The Deaders
    are all chanting. Marla and Joey are there.

                          DEADERS (O.C.)
                My skin isn't real. My eyes aren't real.
                My muscles aren't real.


              My bones, my heart, my veins and nerves,
              and flesh and meat... aren't real. What I
              see, what I hear, what I taste, what I
              touch, what I remember, what I think,
              what I feel, aren't real.

    With a glance she can see that the PUZZLE BOX, in its solved
    configuration, sits on a make-shift altar at the head of the

    WINTER is towering over her at her feet. He holds out a knife
    -- THE FAMILIAR STILETTO -- for her to take.

              You've gone through this before Amy. Go
              through it again -- with me.

    Amy has a sudden look of resignation, mixed with a little
    relief. She reaches out and slowly takes the knife from

              That's it. I knew you were the one. The
              second I saw you, I knew you were the

    The chanting continues.

              My skin isn't real. My eyes aren't real.
              My muscles aren't real. My bones, my
              heart, my veins and nerves, and flesh and
              meat... aren't real. What I see, what I
              hear, what I taste, what I touch, what I
              remember, what I think, what I feel,
              isn't real.

    Amy looks at Marla. She looks deader then ever. She chants
    with the others. Winter holds the knife closer for Amy.

    Amy looks at the PUZZLE BOX. RAYS OF LIGHT start to stretch
    out like hands and swirl from the PUZZLE BOX.


    A BLACK VOID starts to take shape and swirl behind them.
    Winter is pleased.

              It's working. I knew it.

    He kneels down next to Amy.


              Say it with us Amy. You have to say it
              with us.

    Amy's hands start to tremble.

              I can't.

              Yes you can Amy. You're one of us now,
              all you have to do is take this final
              step and let the pain go. And welcome a
              world of ultimate pleasures.
              AN ARM, bluish white, stretches out from
              the VOID trying to grab Joey who ducks
              it's grasp.

    The Deaders break the circle around Amy as more ARMS reach
    out from the void. The VOICES OF TORTURED SOULS, twisted and
    warped, scream out for help in the wind that BURSTS out of
    the void.

    HOOKS AND CHAINS reach out and grab the outstretched arms,
    dragging them back into the VOID. Back into Hell.

    The Deaders turn to Winter -- they're all a little freaked
    out. From the look on their faces it's clear that this isn't
    at all what they expected.

              Where are the naked chicks? The oil? The

    It's not what Winter expected either.

              Finish it Amy.

              I can't.

              Finish it!

    Amy steels herself with sudden resolve.

              I don't think so.



    And with that Amy SLAMS THE KNIFE Into the makeshift alter
    next to her.

    And that's when-

    PINHEAD steps through the void and into this world. A few
    CENOBITES follow.

    All the Deaders step back - this is weird... even for them.

    Amy leaps up and stumbles back as Pinhead slowly approaches
    Winter, carefully studying him as he does, until he's right
    in Winter's face.

              I see that evil does run in the family.

     inter is plays it tough. But it's all an act.

              Your lineage is of a craftsman. You
              should have stayed in the family
              business. I sacrificed my mortal self for
              that box.

              It's mine now. It belongs to me.

              That's where you're painfully wrong. We
              belong to it.

              It created you, and it can destroy you.
                  (to Amy)
              Amy, finish it!

              When it is done with me -- perhaps -- but
              I'm afraid one's own personal hell is
              eternal, as you will soon see.

    Pinhead takes in the Puzzle Box on the makeshift altar, the
    Deaders, Amy.

              The box is not just the map of the road --
              it is the road itself.

              The ultimate experience.


              Experience is a funny thing boy, it likes
              to test us first and teach us later. Are
              you sure you can pass the test? Are you
              sure you want to?

              You can't hurt me.

    Pinhead smiles.

              It's not the first time I've heard that.


    They reach out from the void all around Winter and stab into
    him. He screams out in complete agony as they tear at him and
    stretch his limbs to the point of ripping them off.


              And it won't be the last.

    Winter's screams subside as a rush of pain surges through
    him, numbing him.

    He's just able to turn his head to Pinhead and crack the
    slightest "fuck you" smile.

    Winter tries to talk, but the skin around his mouth is
    stretched too tight.

              When you attempted to challenge evil you
              entered into my domain. There is no way
              in but through me.

    Pinhead gets in close to Winter's face.

              Careful what you wish for.

    Now we can see the terror in Winter's eyes.

              It just might come true.

    Winter screams as he is finally torn apart by the chains.        
    Pinhead turns his attention to the DEADERS.                      



              This world, it obviously disappoints you                                                                     
              all. Perhaps that's why you choose to
              begin this journey. And as long as you so              
              willingly accepted, allow me to finish                                                                     
              off what he started.

    And out of the darkness an oversized MENACING CHAIN comes
    FLYING OUT, HARPOONING straight through the midsections of       
    all the deaders lined on the right side of Amy. Piercing         
    them at all different levels.

    Then another chain HARPOONS the Deaders on the left side. The
    Deaders look like fish on a stringer. They dangle there,
    suspended by the chains.

                  (to Amy)
              And as for you. You opened the box, you                
              brought us all together. You chose                     
              wisely. I'm pleased.

              I didn't want any of this. They used me                
              to open the box. I didn't choose to do                 
    Amy looks to Marla, she's got the fear of god in her. Pinhead
    sees Amy looking for help.

              She's one of us now Amy. Now a guide to
              the far reaches of pleasure. To a world
              where suffering is taken to higher level.


              You opened the box.

              I didn't mean to. I only wanted the

              And now you have it. But knowledge comes
              with a price -- and it's time to pay.

              What about them?



    We see the CENOBITES now with snake-like tongues working
    their way up the line of Deaders towards Amy. They're
    preparing each one as they pass. Poking them with large pins,
    piercing them, stitching them, filleting them, etc...

              They belong to me now. They offered
              themselves willingly through him to me --
              And now it's time for you to do the same.

    Amy grabs the knife from the floor and points it at Pinhead.

              It won't be that easy this time. But yes,              
              your Father is with us too. And he's
              waiting for you.

    These words pierce through Amy. She looks at Marla, now
    barely hanging on to any signs of liveliness. Her head lifts
    up to Amy.

              You're here to stop this Amy. He needs
              your soul willingly. Don't let him take
              you. Don't go willingly.

    Marla looks at the knife. Amy gets it, she only has one way
    out. Marla can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

              Its over. Winter is gone. You can't come               
              back. You won't become a Deader...or one               
              of them.                                               

    Marla looks to Pinhead, then back to Amy. They both know what    
    she has to do.     
                  (her final words)
              Only he can bring you back.

    Amy sees the meat hanging off the chains. It used to be          
    Winter. She glares at Pinhead with a sudden look of              
    confidence, like a light bulb has gone off and she can
    finally see her way out. She raises the knife high in front
    of her.

    The two SNAKE-TONGUED CENOBITES move in closer to Amy. They
    can't wait to have a little taste.

    For a moment, Pinhead is pleased, then Amy begins the DEADER
    CHANT, but reverses its meaning.


                 AMY                               PINHEAD
    My skin IS real. My eyes ARE       It's too late to save
    real. My muscles are real. My      yourself. Your soul is mine
    bones, my heart, my veins and      and mine alone. Your Father
    nerves, and flesh and meat...      is waiting for you. He misses
    are real. What I see, what I       you so much.
    hear, what I taste, what I            (louder)
    touch, what I remember, what       The only way out Amy Klein --
    I think, what I feel, is           is THROUGH ME.

    The Cenobites freeze for a beat and turn to Pinhead. They
    haven't seen that before.

    She stares Pinhead right in the eyes.

              I didn't give my soul to him...

    Amy points the knife at what's left of Winter.

              ...and I'm not giving it to you.

    And with that Amy thrusts the knife into her chest. Pinhead
    screams out.


    The room starts to fill with a BRIGHT LIGHT. The Puzzle Box
    starts to close as-

    Pinhead and the boys are sucked back into the void, which
    closes behind them.

    Amy looks up from the knife planted deep in her gut-

    - AND SMILES. She tips out of frame as the screen bleaches
    white and we-

                                                       SMASH CUT TO:


    Where we suddenly find ourselves lost in some bright
    flickering space, filled with the sound of static. Abruptly,
    the static vanishes, the flickering space congeals -- and we
    realize that we are watching a television screen.

    And as we PULL BACK, we realize that we are seeing a news           
    report on from SNN (Satellite News Network).                        



    We are in Charles's office. He's there watching this new        
    Images of what appear to be a terrible explosion fill the
    frame (stock footage from a terrorist attack in London                                                                     
    perhaps?) Cars on fire, imploded building, panic in the
    street, etc...                                                  
    The door opens and his assistant BETTY comes in. She watches
    Charles for a moment.)

              I just talked to the Police. Still,
              nothing. She's just gone. Left her hotel,             
              left her clothes, left her money. No sign
              of her anywhere.

              See no Amy. Hear no Amy...

              Just like Marla Chen. Apartment just left
              empty. No trace. The police say its to                
              early to file an official report.                     
                  (off his concerned look)
              Do you think they she with foul play?  
              (off the TV) I don't know, I just don't               
              Too bad, too. It would have made a hell               
              of a story. (beat)                                    
              I'm sure she'll come walking in here any              
              minute, carrying with her my story.                   

    Charles watches the report on the TV. Pandemonium in the
              It's a hell of a story, too. It just gets             
              better and better. And it looks like I                
              just may need somebody else crazy enough              
              to go get it.             
              Maybe you have. Your three o'clock's

    Betty leans her head out of the room signalling someone out
    in the hall to come in.



    A YOUNG BOMBSHELL REPORTER enters, holds out her hand to
    Charles who suddenly perks up as he takes it and leads her to
    the couch.

    As he does we move past Charles and the young reporter to the     
    TV. A REPORTER reports live from the scene of a terrible
    explosion in-

                        REPORTER (V.O.)
              Bucharest, Romania.

    Over the continuing images of this destroyed building,
    surrounded by police cars and fire trucks , the sirens            
    blaring over all the confusion,s Charles courts the reporter.    
               CHARLES                     REPORTER (V.O.)
    Miss Turner. It's a pleasure    Witnesses say the building,
    to meet you welcome you to      located at the corner of
    our team. Let's cut right to    Poteilari and Minvara just
    it, shall we.                   imploded. Firefighters have
    I received this tape which I    been on the scene for several
    would like to show you...and    hours now. Sources say the
    well, I think it's a story      only thing that seemed to
    you could really wrap your      survive the collapse of the
    head around. I hope your        building was a this, (she
    willing to do so...             holds up the puzzle box) this
                                    small relic, found
                                    incredibly, undamaged.

    We move past the image of the puzzlebox on the TV and settle
    on the FRAMED PHOTOGRAPH of AMY AND CHARLES in happier times -    
    - smiling. Probably the first time we've seen a smile on
    AMY'S FACE since the last time we've seen this picture.

    We get a sense that maybe she's finally at peace.

                                                        FADE OUT:

                         THE END