Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior


My life fades...

...the vision dims.

All that remains are memories.

I remember... a time of chaos...

...ruined dreams... this wasted land.

But most of all, I remember

the Road Warrior...

...the man we called Max.

To understand who he was, you

have to go back to another time.

...when the world was

powered by the black fuel...

...and the deserts sprouted

great cities of pipe and steel.

Gone now... swept away.

For reasons long forgotten, two

mighty warrior tribes went to war...

...and touched off a blaze

which engulfed them all.

Without fuel they were nothing.

They'd built a house of straw.

The thundering machines

spluttered and stopped.

Their leaders talked... and talked...

and talked...

...but nothing could stem the avalanche.

Their world crumbled...

...the cities exploded.

A whirlwind of looting...

...a firestorm of fear.

Men began to feed on men.

On the roads it was a

white-line nightmare.

Only those mobile enough to scavenge...

...brutal enough to

pillage would survive.

The gangs took over the highways...

...ready to wage war

for a tank of juice.

And in this maelstrom of decay...

...ordinary men were

battered and smashed.

Men like Max...

...the warrior Max.

In the roar of an engine,

he lost everything...

...and became a shell of a man...

...a burnt out, desolate man...

...a man haunted by

the demons of his past.

A man who wandered out

into the wasteland.

And it was here...

in this blighted place...

...that he learned to live again.

Don't hurt the snake!

Put it down...

...gently, gently... nice.

Now the iron.

The gun.

Down, down. Turn around.

Looks like I've got myself

some gasoline eh, eh?

V8? Eh?


Touch those tanks and BOOM!

Booby-trap! Back up!

Oh, you crafty little man, you!

You're quick... very quick.

Never seen a man beat the snake before.

Who are you?

Reflexes... that's what you've got.

Me... l've got brains.

A fella... a quick fella...

...might have a weapon under there.

I'd have to pin his head to the panel.

Don't play me the fool!

Gas! Fuel! Gasoline!

Thousands of gallons of it!

- As much as you want!

- Where? Where?

Pumping it, they are! Refining!

- A huge tanker full.

- Crap!

No, it's true!

It's not self-service, no.

It's too hard for me...

...but a man of your ingenuity...


Kill me and you'll never find out!

Good dog...

Nice doggy, eh?

Well, there it is.

Four days I was up here.

Me and the snakes...

playing mah-jong, taking tea...

...watching, thinking... was I going to

get in and get the gas?

Day and night it's pumping...

Fuel to burn.

They've got the lot: Power,

lights, you name it.

You can bet your life

they mean to keep it.

Arrows, flame-throwers, guns!

No place for man or reptile, I thought.

Then this trash arrived... moths to a flame.

Round and round, attack, attack... angry ants, mad

with the smell of gasoline.

In the tanker, that's

where they keep it.

Thousands of gallons.

As much as you want.

If anyone's gonna get in

there, it's gonna be you.

Er, me... l'm gonna feed the snakes.

A man lives by his word. I reckon

I've kept mine, eh?

Look, we had a deal. I show you

the gas and you let me go, right?

The arrangement was

I wouldn't kill you.

After all I've done for you...

I reckon you got a bargain, don't you?

Attack, my vermin, attack!

Onward! Bring me the fuel.

For the glory of Humungus.

For the great glory of Humungus.

Smegma crazies to the left!

The gate!

Gayboy berserkers to the gate!

I am your Lord.

Attack, my vermin, attack!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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Terry Hayes

Terry Hayes (born 8 October 1951) is an English-born screenwriter, producer and author best known for his work with the Kennedy Miller film production house. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018


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