Wes Craven’s Page #2

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A.D. (O.S.)

Heather, you're in the next shot!

Heather turns, a little confused.

CHASE:

(putting Dylan on again)

Might as well be, Dylan. State of the

art animatronics enhanced with bio-

organic grafting. Bull tendons, nerve

bundles from a Doberman, even half the

brain of a homicidal primate was...

HEATHER:

Chase...

heather is looking at the hand again, but now her expression

is growing more alarmed. Chase looks over, reacts to

THE HAND:

flexing. Trembling.

CHASE:

Hey...

Chase reaches out to steady the hand, but with incredible

speed it contorts. The claws flick and Chase reels back with

a cry, staring at his own bloody fingers.

CHASE (cont'd)

Sh*t!

Chase grabs the remote and switches it off. THE CLAW falls

still. The other assistant, CHUCK, peers down at it in

curiosity.

CHUCK:

Must've picked up something from an AD's

walkie-talkie...

He flops it over with a screwdriver and pokes at it. The

hand lets out a LITTLE SOUND, half machine, half animal.

Terry puts his hand near it, palm down, then looks at Chase.

TERRY:

You sure it's turned off?

CHASE:

It's off.

TERRY:

Funny. It's warm. Like a real hand.

Chuck leans down and peers more closely at it. Goes to poke

it again. But before his finger touches it the clawed steel

hand leaps up and glues itself to his neck. Its gleaming

talons sinking into his throat!

Chuck jerks back. Clawing the thing away. Clutching his

throat as blood spurts from between his fingers.

THE HAND:

smacks back on the table and scrambles out of sight with a

clatter of steel. Into the warren of tools and equipment.

Fast as some spiny creature from a thousand fathoms!

Heather screams. Dylan draws back, pale and frightened as

Chase grabs the remote controller and smashes it. Pulls out

the batteries and flings them away. Every furnace in the

place suddenly ROARS BACK TO LIFE!

CRAVEN (O.S.)

What the hell's going on?! Kill the

effects!

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