Frankenstein Page #4

YOUNG SAILOR:

It's the demon! Shoot while you've a chance!

The Pilot lights the kerosene wick of a reflector box"

spotlight and swings it around. The beam seeks out the

specter and pins it in a dim circle of light ... revealing a

man collapsed on a dog sled, lashed to tiller upright

stanchions with frozen leather straps, Dead dogs lie in icy

heaps around him.

EXT - NEVSKY - NIGHT

The men venture onto the shifting ice with lanterns raised.

Grappling lines are unslung and thrown, the ice floe

snagged. Gaffs reach out, drawing it closer. Men clasp arms,

forming a human chain. Grigori is the first to reach the

motionless figure on the dog sled.

WALTON:

Dead?

Grigori cautiously eases his hand into the darkness of the

furred hood to search the neck for a pulse ...

... and the figure scares the s-hit out of him. With a

convulsive shudder and a gasping intake of breath, the hood

rises up, revealing a haggard face tortured white with

frost, beard frozen solid, eyes blazingly intelligent and

aware. Walton finds himself in an extended beat of eye

contact with VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN.

EXT - NEVSKY - ON DECK - NIGHT

A HOWLING WIND has kicked up, pelting the huddled sentries

with sleet. CAMERA TRACKS past, moving steadily toward the

dimly-glowing window of Walton's cabin ...

(CONTINUED)

8

INT - WALTON'S CABIN - NIGHT

... where we find Walton and Grigori in tense discussion:

GRIGORI:

Captain, I implore you. The men are frightened

and angry. They want your assurance.

WALTON:

They knew the risks when they signed on. I've

come too far to turn back now.

GRIGORI:

Then you run the danger of pushing them to

mutiny.

Walton pulls a pistol from his drawer and slams it flat on

the table before him.

WALTON:

(low, tight)

Let them try.

Grigori is taken aback. He hears a shifting of blankets and

glances to the captain's bed. Walton follows his look.

Frankenstein has awakened and is watching them.

Grigori exits, uneasy under Frankenstein's gaze. Walton

rises, retrieves a pot from the stove.

WALTON:

You're awake. I've prepared some broth. It'll

help restore you.

VICTOR:

(hoarse, faltering)

I'm ... dying.

Victor draws a hand from under the blanket and holds it

before his face. Fingers skeletal and black.

VICTOR:

Frostbite. Gangrene. A simple diagnosis.

WALTON:

Are you a physician?

VICTOR:

(faint smile)

How is it you come to be here?

(CONTINUED)

9

WALTON:

There's a startling question, coming from you.

(beat)

I'm captain of this ship. We sailed from

Archangel a month ago, seeking a passage to the

North Pole.

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