* Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org Captions were made with the support of NZ On Air. www.able.co.nz Able 2019 (inaudible) (screaming grows louder) (panting) (screaming) (screams) (screams) (gurgling) (wheezing) (panting) No! No! No! No! No! No! No! - Die! - No! (ominous rumbling) (communicator clicks) MAN: Colonel Redding, now there's a piece of work. I can't believe he's having us wire up this hellhole. He's obsessed with something. What's he expecting to find down there? Ghosts of old miners? They're here... (communicator clicks) Hey, you ready to test? All right, you got everybody? Number one's dead. Oh. How about now? - (blipping) - Whoa, good there. And how about the security dummies? They're dead, too. Hold on. What the hell? What you got? I got a shitload of false readings. Stand by. Again? What's going on here? Damn it. We just lost our feed. I'll go check the main junction. WILSON: Spooky down there, isn't it? We're the first ones in there since the '50s. Maybe it is haunted. I'm glad it's you and not me in there. (metallic clanging) (thunderous boom) (rats squeaking) (static buzzes gently) - (sharp crackle) - Oh! Oh, fuck! What's with the junction box? It's history. Our friends the rats again. They love the taste of the insulation. All right, I'll call base. Should be able to get it back up here in an hour or so. Shit. Dr. Wilson, have you seen Foster? Calibrating the infrared sensor up top the mountain. Dumb sons of bitches. Sorry, Colonel Redding. Guys aren't supposed to be here without a goddamn escort. (device powering up) - (static bursts) - Wilson. Wilson? Wilson, come in. (sighing) Where are these guys? (echoing): Han, do you read me? It's Foster. Han, come in. Han, it's Foster. (gasps) Hi. (grunts) Are you... lost? My name is Dr. Foster, uh... (snarling) (laughing) Do you... do you have a name? (indistinct gurgling) Ruway? (screeching) Run away? (screaming) Foster? (echoing): Foster! (falling rocks pattering) Now where are you? Come on. Come out of your holes. Come on, you cocksucker, motherfucker, sons of bitches. (echoing): Foster... - (thud, squishing) - (groans) (scream echoing) (screams) (ethereal chanting) (helicopter whirring) (groans) Go, go, move out! Move out, go! Keep moving! Keep moving! Go! (groaning) Oh, shit. - Take cover! - Come on, Crank! Whoa! Ow! - (shouts) - Leave it! I've got to get my helmet. Smith, forget your fucking helmet! Get back here! (screaming) Oh! It's not supposed to be this bad! - Die! - Oh! - ...mothersuckers! What the fuck did you say? - You American mothersucker! - Crank? America's number one, bitch! - Crank! - (screaming) (moaning) - Crank! - Let's move, pussies! Crank, you dumb motherfucker! Don't freak out! I know what to do. Get out of the way. - Go, go, go! - Give him some cover. - I got this! I got this! - (indistinct shouting) Come on, come on! - Napoli, get the door! - What? - Get the door, man! - What? - (helicopter whirrs) - I can't hear you! - Get the fucking door! - (groans) - (indistinct shouting) - Fall back! - Shit! Take cover! Whoo! Shit! (doll squeaks) (woman screaming) You killed my babies! Yeah... (moans) - You killed my babies! - Watch out. - You killed my babies! - Watch her. - (panting) - No, no... - I didn't mean to. No, Napoli! Kaboom. (LAUGHS) - Oh, you're dead. - Idiot. - (whistle blows) A stunning display of individual and group stupidity. 17 civilians killed and yourselves. I'm in fucking awe. Cole, never leave cover to retrieve your helmet. You won't have a head to put it on anyway. Johnson, do not drop your weapon to protect your ears. You are better off deaf than dead. Medina, since you are not Rambo resurrected, do not charge while your head is securely up your ass. That's how innocent people get killed. - And you, Napoleon... - It's Napoli, Sarge. You're quite the killer, aren't you, Napoleon? Almost got your whole squad blown to hell in six seconds. Now that's a mighty impressive body count for somebody who's against the war. - What? - Oh, yeah, your brother didn't tell you? Pretty mouth here got himself a bumper sticker. It says "Conversation, not confrontation." What's up with that shit? You against the war, Doonesbury? Not all wars, Sarge. I just think that the President lies too much. All presidents lie, asshole. That's their fucking job. - Yes, sir. - No president has told the truth since Truman. - And do you know what he said? - No, Sarge. He said that the buck stops here. Now you have all failed combat and are therefore officially dead. Congratu-fucking-lations. Fall in at that deuce and a half with all gear. We will deploy to the Agabe Ridge rifle range, then you can complete your failure of these exercises by blowing each other's dead heads off. And on our way, we're stopping at Sector 16 to deliver equipment to scientists who are working there. This is a top secret area, so do not wander off or talk to anybody. Now get your sorry rookie butts in the back of that truck now! (blows whistle) Let's go! Let's go! Let's go, Spitter! If I had some steak on a string, you'd move real fast. Jesus. How big is this place? It's about 1,300 square miles. They used to test nuclear weapons here. Well, isn't it radioactive, then? Not according to the Army. Fuck. Maybe I should thank Napoleon. If we're all officially dead, like Sarge said, I won't be tried for war crimes. The killing of innocent mannequins is serious shit. Where I come from, it's never good to be dead. Oh, Crank, you're taking all the fun out of the afterlife. - Shove the afterlife up your ass. - (laughing) Ooh, that's cold, man. Clyde, huh? Made the same mistake when I was a kid. So is Clyde still your dude? Ah, yes, Stump, Clyde's still my dude. (chuckles) Stump, that's her son. He's like 4 years old. That is so fucked up. One good thing about being dead ` wouldn't have to listen to all your bullshit. - Oh... - That's all there is out here is a bunch of bullshit. This bullshit's got a crazy past. You guys know they used to use this as a test ground for A-bombs? (mocking): You guys know this used to be a test ground for A-bombs? Who the fuck asked you, peace-ass shit boy? Oh, right, I'm sorry. I forgot I was dealing with Rambo Resurrected. You Rambo resurrect my balls, bitch. Ooh! Hijo de pinche puta. No puedes escribir, idiota? - Whoa, whoa, whoa. - AMBER: Stop, Crank. You want to die young, cabron? Come on! Huh? Huh? - Guys, stop. - I'll kill you right now! - Whoa, Crank! - Huh?! Hey! (panting) I killed somebody once. It was easy. That's why it's so dangerous. I don't fucking like that guy. Well, I don't like being out here having to put up with you, but I deal with it. So deal with it. Thanks. Don't mind Crank. He's just a cranky motherfucker. (bird call echoing) (insects chirping) They're so top secret they're invisible, huh? You got that right. (door creaks open) (echoing): Hello? (generator sputters to a stop) Oh, leg's asleep. - Dick's asleep. - You want to wake it up? - Nah, that's your daddy's job. - Hey, you two, cut the bullshit. Offload that crate. Put it in the tent. Spitter, get me base. National Guard, Yankee 5-niner calling Yuma Flats Base, over. National Guard, Yankee Five-Niner. Call Yuma Flats Base. Over. (static hissing) Nothing, sir. - It's the hills. - Keep trying. National Guard, Yankee Five- Niner to Yuma Flats Base. Over. - National Guard... - Hello? (flies buzzing) - Private Crackhead. - Sarge. See if you can find Colonel Redding. He's supposed to be the security over here. See these cables? They run into that old bunker over there. Check it out. Watch your step. - Yes, sir, Sergeant. - Private Mickey Mouse. See if you can find some gas. There's got to be some cans around here somewhere. Yes, Sergeant. Napoleon. Where the fuck are you going? Uh, I was just going to use the facilities. Are you fucking kidding me? You are in mountain assault training. There are no Porta Potties in Kandahar. You will take your dumps behind the cactus with the scorpions. Do you understand me? What do I use for TP, sir? Use your fucking hand. Yes, Sarge. (rumbling) (metallic scraping) (echoing): Yo! Colonel Redding? - (bats screeching) - Whoa! Stupid bats. No gas, sir, but I found this. Satellite phone. Must have been how they contacted base. I don't think it's working. Damn, somebody's got a temper. (static) Mine's all buttoned up, Sarge. Nobody's home. - (static hissing) - Whose radio is that? Must be one of theirs. MAN: Wilson? Are... you there? Hello? (transmission garbled): ...is this? This is Sergeant Jeffrey Millstone of the US National Guard. Who is this and what's your position? (garbled): I need hel... (static hissing) (garbled): I'm over here... Are you in distress? - (static hissing) - Fuck. Spitter, what's the range on these things? Couple miles, line of sight. Sarge. Looks like a signal mirror. It's got to be him. We're on a search-and-rescue mission. - That's right. We are. - All right. Shut the fuck up. I said search-and-rescue. Not fucking spring break. I want you back here with weapons and gear for a climbing assault in five. - Yes, sir. - Yes, sir, Sarge. No disrespect, but do you really think it's a good idea going up there without contacting headquarters? Do you like fucking with me, Napoleon? I think you do. You know what? You're officially in charge of guarding the latrine. Not using it, but guarding it. I want you to stand on one leg and hold your rifle over your fucking head, and make sure that no one steals or molests that Porta Potti, or I will have your Gomer Pyle ass court-martialled immediately. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? Do you understand me? Yeah, I'll go. I just think that it's a bad idea. Get over there and guard that fucking latrine now! Sir, yes, sir. - Live ammo or blanks? - One live mag each weapon. It's heavier. Flashlights and hydration packs too. The more weight, the better, for you clowns. You're halfway through your training and you look like a bunch of raw recruits. You're a disgrace to the US National Guard, and you wouldn't last five minutes in combat. One leg, Gomer Pyle! The rest of you, get your asses up that hill, and wipe those silly smiles off your faces now. Let's move. One leg, Pyle. One leg. (laughing) - Company halt! - You're so bad. - Johnson! - Sir? You stay here. Spitter's coming with us. Get on the main radio and try to raise somebody. If you can get through to a medvac, the guy'll have a hell of a better chance. Now move. Yes, Sarge. Don't forget to write. Get going! Turn around! One leg! (calling): When I grew up, my mama said... GROUP: When I grew up, my mama said... if I wasn't in the Army, then I'd be dead. If I wasn't in the Army, then I'd be dead. (call-and-response continues indistinctly) SARGE: One leg, Gomer Pyle! Mayday, Mayday. This is the National Guard, Yankee Five-Niner calling the Yuma Flats Base, requesting a medvac. Over. (static) (growling over radio) Hello? - (bird cawing) - Oh, shit. Mayday, Mayday. This is the National Guard, Yankee Five-Niner calling the Yuma Flats Base, requesting a medvac. Over. * What the hell are scientists doing way the hell out here? There's nothing but rocks and rattlesnakes. Army business, dumbass. Definitely none of your business. How many people are supposed to be here? I have no idea. Maybe we can ask him up there. SPITTER: What are we supposed to do when we find this dude? It depends on how bad he is. We wait for a medvac or help him down by hand. I know I'm not supposed to talk, Sarge, but... - (yelling) - Shit, man! - Help! - I got you! (yelling, grunting) - Come on. Pull him up. - I got you, Mickey. - (groaning) - Shit. (deep echoing): Hello? - Shit. - You saved my life, Sarge. Yeah, well, nobody's perfect. SPITTER: How far down does that thing go? China? (clacking) Could be 100 feet deep, 100 years old, just waiting to suck your ass in. So keep your eyes open. There's a lot of old mines around here. How's your ankle, Mickey? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Let's go. (groaning) - We cannot afford to slow down. - Come on, Sarge. Let's go. (loud groaning) - Head back to base camp. - Oh, come on, Sarge. Mick, back to camp. Now. That's an order. What the fuck is everybody looking at? Let's keep moving. (groans) Screw it. Hey. You're not supposed to do that. Duty calls. Mayday, Mayday. This is the National Guard, Yankee Five-Niner calling the Yuma Flats Base, requesting a medvac. Over. (metallic creaking) Mayday, Mayday. This is the National Guard, Yankee Five-Niner calling the Yuma Flats Base, requesting... (groans) (sighs) (thump) (screaming) - Oh! Fuck! Fuck! - What? - There's a hand in the shitter! - What? Check it out! Oh! Oh... Fuck... (zipper closing) (groans, flies buzzing) There's nobody in there. Down... there. (both screaming) (man yelling, screaming) Who was that guy? Shit-Man the Barbarian! I have no idea! Help me! (yelling, groaning) Oh, man. (groaning): Oh, God... I can't tell one rock from another. It was between those three. Seems like... that's the only way up, right there. That ain't so bad. No, man. Not so bad at all. If you're a fucking squirrel. (coughing, hacking) (shivering, coughing) - What's with all these cuts? - I don't know. (shivering, panting) Who did this to you? They're... here. Who's "they"? None of the cuts were that deep. - Massive infection. - What? Shit stinks because it's full of pathogens. Whoever did this to him wanted him to die slowly. What kind of person would do that to someone? I honestly don't know. SARGE: Let's go, Delmar. There you go. Pick your spots. Find the creases. - (grunting) - You got it! You got it! (grunting) - Ow! - Keep going, soldier! There you go. That's what I'm talking about, Delmar. - (soldiers whooping) - All right. All right. (grunts) - All right! - Spider-Man! You are officially a bad motherfucker. (heavy breathing, soldiers talking indistinctly) (child singing on phone) # And the itsy-bitsy spider # # Came out the waterspout. # I love you, Mommy. (rocks falling) SARGE: Take your time, but pick your spots, Stump. (gasping) - Asshole! - Oh, easy. Sarge says we're moving out. Well, make some noise next time you come up behind me. Yeah, whatever. I'm just the messenger. Chicks, man. (clicking) Hello? Hello? Over. Hello? Hello. Over. Hello? Hello. Over. Can you get through to them? The radio sucks. (static) Hello? Sarge? Anybody? (whooshing, rumbling) Holy shit. - Oh, no, no, no, no. - Oh, my God. (gasping) (glass breaking) Shit. What are you doing? - Fuck. - What? Where's your rifle? Oh, God, it's gone. Oh, God. - Let's just get up there. - No, no, no, no, no. We're not going up that hill. I'm not hiding down here and waiting for them to come down. What? You scared? It's not about being scared. It's about not making idiotic and possibly fatal decisions. Right. Forgot who I was speaking to. The same genius who got his whole squad blown to hell. Didn't you hear what he said? Someone is here. You want to die like him? Let's just get up with the others. Hello, Sarge? Hello, Sarge? (static) Hello? Sarge, anyone. - Can anybody out there read me? - (static) (panting) (chittering) (bird calling) (faint growling, chittering) (rocks falling) (bird calling) (panting) (chittering) (panting) Napoleon! What?! I don't know... - (SCREAMS) - Amber! (grunting) Hey! (screaming) (grunting) Hey! (grunting) - (yelling) - Napoleon! (screaming) (gunshot) (grunting) I hit him! (yelling) Mickey! Mickey! Hey, who was that? Mickey, something's going on! Oh, God. Are you all right? Yeah, I just twisted my ankle. - (yelling, grunting) - Hold on. Oh... Holy shit! (yelling): Fuck! - (SCREAMS) - Hold on. - (bones cracking) - I got you! - (screaming) - Oh, shit. - Shit! - Hold on. I got you. (screaming) Shoot the fucker! Shoot him! - Shoot him! - I can't see in there. (screaming) I don't have a shot! - Help me, man! - (bones snapping) - (screaming) - Get him! (agonized screaming) (cracking) (screaming) (sobbing): Oh, God... Oh! Oh... Mickey! - (sobbing): Oh, God. - Mickey? * Man, this is bullshit. What? - I thought I heard something... a shot. - This is a military base. People are shooting all over the place. I think it came from camp. Has anybody checked with Amber recently? Mickey's down there by now. You know he's got her in a tent and they're doing a whole 'nother kind of training, you know what I mean? - Sarge, up there. - I see it! Another one. You two! Get your asses up here. Come on. Hello?! Hello?! (echoing): Hello... Oh, no. The red and black high-top Forces. What? And it's my size, too? What the fuck it doing way up here? Now, if we could only find the other one, we'd be in business. SPITTER: Sarge! Over here! Sarge! What the fuck is in his head? - Private Crackhead... - Huh? - Fish it out. Shit. (squishing) "Dr. Paul Foster. Department of Defense." Looks like we found one of our scientists. - Lock and load. - This isn't supposed to happen on an Army base, man. In the middle of a US military facility. The size of Rhode Island. Look, if some asshole wants to go nuts, this is a damn good place to do it. Spitter, get Amber on the radio. (static hissing) Stark Nine, Stark Nine. Amber, this is Spitter. You read me? Over. (static hissing) Stark Nine, Stark Nine. Amber, this is Spitter. Read me? Over. (static hissing) There's too much interference. - Sarge, we should go back down there... - Amber's fine. She's got Mick and Napoleon. - MAN (through static): Help me. - That their radio? - Let me have it. - (garbled transmission) Colonel Redding, is this you? (garbled transmission) Hello. Can you hear me? (static hissing) That wasn't the same voice as before. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. But if somebody's hurt we're gonna help him, and if somebody if fucking with us, we're gonna find out who it is. - Sarge, we shou... - I told you before. This isn't spring break. One way or the other, lives are at stake. That's how it is. Crank, Spitter, you stay with me on lead-- Missy, Stump, Delmar, you bring up the rear, watch our backs. Stay alert and stay alive. Let's move. (birdlike cooing) (cooing continues) (tapping) (birdlike cooing) (cooing) You hear something? I don't know. Maybe a bird? Keep your eyes open. OK. (screaming) (rapid gunfire) - (shrieking) - What the fuck was that? (yelling) - Oh, shit! - (rapid gunfire) What the fuck? - (rapid gunfire) - No! Sarge! Shit! Spitter! Fuck! Oh, fuck, man! Sarge! That was Spit, man. Sarge! - Sarge! - I didn't mean to do that. Sarge! (panting) You hurt? You hurt? - I didn't mean to do that. - Do what? - Sarge! - Sarge! Sarge! Sarge! - Sarge! - (groaning) - What do we do? - Go get me the Medipack. - Medipack! D! Medipack! Bring it over here. (groaning loudly) (Spitter sobbing) (sobbing): Fuck, man, fuck. What happened? I swear, man, this dude just popped out of nowhere and he stabbed Spitter in the back. (Spitter babbling incoherently) (laboured breathing) - Sarge... - Come on, Sarge... Sarge... come on, breathe. Breathe, Sarge. Sarge, stay with us. SPITTER: Sarge! What do we need? What do you need? - SPITTER: Crank! - (Amber sobbing) Missy, what do you need? SPITTER: Crank! Crank, tell them, man! Tell them! CRANK: It was an accident. It was a fucking accident. (sobbing) They're fucking with us. These guys are smart. (grunts) Amber? Where's Mickey? (Spitter sobbing) * Watch between the rocks. And your feet, too. That's how they got Mickey? - That's how they did it. - God. What is it? SPITTER: What do you see, Delmar? It's nothing. We're almost there. (gravel crunching underfoot) All right, guys. Let's rig a line and get Sarge down. I'm going down with him. Sorry, Spit. I don't know how to rig for a two-man. - Yeah, me either, man. - I can do it. All right. All right, let's make it happen. - (metal rattling) - You need two, right? Oh, and a couple of those carabiners. Prop him up. Prop him up. You sure you know what you're doing? - Double bow line, right knot for the job. - You sure about that? I was an Eagle Scout. - It better fucking hold. - Come on, Spit. Let's do it. You ready? All right. I'm sorry, Spitter. It's the only way. If he's loose, he'll fall out of his harness. - OK? - Mm-hm. OK. CRANK: See you down there, cabron. OK, man... OK. Easy... easy... OK... - OK... - You got it, Spitter. All right, man, plant your feet. Take it easy. Right there, Spitter, you got it. Plant your feet, man. - You're doing good, Spitter. - Little more, little more. Right there. OK, that's a good pace. Keep it... Napoleon! Get your thumb out of your ass and help us out! - You comfortable? - Yeah. You're looking good, man. We're right there. - Slow... Slow down a little. - All right. Slow down I'm about to lose visual. Keep it slow, Spitter. Yo, slow down. - Slow down. - (rope straining) - (screaming) - Spitter! - Spitter! Spi... Spitter! - What happened? Shit! - (groaning) - What happened?! - CRANK: What happened?! - He's fucking dead, man. What the fuck happened? STUMP: He's fucking dead. Your fucking knot didn't hold, you lying faggot! (grunting) The rope must have broke. - The rope didn't break. - Exactly. It was cut. Oh, man, we're getting picked off one by one here. Oh, you motherfuckers! You motherfuckers are dead! - You hear me?! - (automatic gunfire) (echoing): Dead! Ah, shit. Where are the ropes? Hey, who's got the rest of the ropes? - I put them up there. - They're gone. They're not here. We can't get down without the ropes. STUMP: Who the hell is doing all of this fucking bullshit to us? CRANK: Whoever these fuckers are, they want us dead. DELMAR: No, that's where they want us: thinking we got no chance. We're gonna get out of this together. Let's think about that. - So how do we get down? - There's got to be a way. They got up here; we'll take the same way down. DELMAR: Watch your step. It's a long way down. Damn! DELMAR: You're not gonna like this. - What? Oh, fuck, man! It's another dead end. No way we're getting down without ropes, I told you. DELMAR: We go back and find another way. (groans loudly) Oh, shit. D, why the fuck are we moving towards the weird noise? - Just shut the hell up. - You shut the hell up. This is bullshit. - D... - Shh! (groaning loudly) - (laboured breathing) - Holy shit. Go ahead and shoot. Let's get some first aid. - Coming up. - Napoleon, watch our backs. NAPOLEON: You got it. CRANK: Colonel Redding. Just hang on, sir, OK? - We're gonna get you out of here. - Where's your CO? Where's your commanding officer? We lost him. - We have to see those wounds, sir. - You don't have a fucking clue! (laughing) - (screaming) - Shit. Sir, if you know something we should know, now's the time. I just needed a little proof. - Proof of what? - What's going on here, Colonel? It's not the fucks in caves... (gasping) halfway around the world that keep me up at night. Hm-mm... Right here, middle of our own goddamn base, people are still living in the mines. They thought they got rid of them, but I knew they didn't. You knew about these fuckers? One or two more nights... I-I-I-I could have had them blown back to the Stone Age. Tell us what to do, Colonel. How do we get out of here? That's a good fucking question, isn't it? You could... you could go down through the mines. Except they'd kill you for sure. All except the girls. You ladies, they'll keep you alive for breeding and trying to get their numbers back up. - What? - (Redding laughs) Yeah, whatever, asshole. How do we get down this hill? Simple. - No! No! No! - No! No! No! No! No! (gasps) What the fuck... What the fuck was that, man? (wild screaming) * (snake rattling) (birds chirping) (sighs) I don't know how much more of this I can take. - I'm so fucking scared. - We're gonna get through this. We're gonna make it out of here, OK? - You think? - Have to. I'm the only real family Clyde's got. Give anything just to smell his hair again. You never talk about him. Work's work. Family is... I don't know-- sacred. I always tried keeping the two separate. I guess that's all bullshit now. (phone beeps) CLYDE: # ...sun and dried up all the rain # # And the itsy-bitsy spider came out the waterspout... # - Love you, Mommy. - He's beautiful. Now! - (rapid gunfire) - (grunting) (groaning) - Yeah! - (rapid gunfire) CRANK: Bee-atch! Is he...? Fucking A! Got 'im. - (panting) - You all right? Mm-hm. It's the piece of shit that jumped me back at camp. I think he killed Mickey too. Damn. He's fucking ugly. CRANK: Fucking stinks. He's fucking big, man. Still, nothing a little hot lead can't fix. STUMP: Hot lead? Listen to you, man. Yeah, well, it's just one. How many are left? Hey, bring 'em on, man. DELMAR: Hey... you guys did good. - Thanks. - Smells like shit. CRANK: Yeah! We got it! (bird cawing) - (sighs) - (belt jingles) (pants sliding down) (urine splashing) (inhaling) Where's Missy? - (Missy screaming) - Hey, Missy? DELMAR: Missy? - Shit! - Missy! - No! There! (screaming) Watch yourselves. CRANK: Missy! Missy! Oh! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on, Delmar. You heard what that dude said. We should climb down, man. DELMAR: What are you talking about? STUMP: Talking about you and me. We don't need ropes. We can make it down freestyle, no sweat, man. Let's just do it. - Hey, what about the rest of us? - What about Missy? We can get down fast, and you know it. Rest of you guys just... just hang tough and we're gonna bring back some help. - Fuck that. - We stick together. It's the best way. - We separate... - We're dead. CRANK: You got that right. Stump... I'm gonna take my chances, man. DELMAR: Stump... stay with us, man. Come on. When I get down, I'm gonna bring back help. This is stupid, man. Crank, that is fucking stupid, man. I'm gonna bring back help. Shit. You guys ready for this? We got your back. (rifle clicks) AMBER: Stinks in here. CRANK: You see anything? DELMAR: There's only one way they could've gone. (panting) Dead end. Where the fuck are they? NAPOLEON (whispers): Guys. Down here. (metal creaking) I can't see shit. DELMAR: I'll check it out. Wait for my signal. (grunting, panting) (screams) (panting) CRANK: You good? (whispers): Clear. (grunting) (panting) Shit! (coughing) (gasps) (screaming) Fucking...! (screams) - Got you! I got you! - Get me out! - Get me out! - You're fine. It's all right. (coughing) Jesus Christ. - You OK, Napoleon? - Yeah. Ah, jeez. Where the hell are we? Next level down. (panting) * All right. OK. - (gasps) - (bird-like hooting) - (screaming in distance) - Fuck! They're just fucking rocks. I'm not gonna let you bastards get me. Not me. Not today. It's not gonna happen. Hey, guys. There's a breeze. (wind whistling softly) (Crank grunting) (panting) Ah... shit. This is where the fuckers hid to cut the ropes. We can't just leave them down there. There's nothing we can do for them now, except find Missy and get the fuck out of here. Missy's probably dead, too. You're not doing anybody any good talking like that. (birds chirping) (panting) (grunting) Oh, fuck. (panting) (distant squawking) (panting) Come on. (panting) (echoing): Delmar! (whispers, echoing): Delmar! (sighs) (wind whistling softly) (panting) (screaming) Get off me! Oh, God! (screaming) No! (screaming) No...! CRANK: Is it a dead end? DELMAR: No. No, it goes through. How deep is it? Let's see. (panting) (panting) How many do you think there are? (whispers): Who knows? Too many. (click) What are you doing? I'm saving one for myself. Hey. Do you remember what Crank said? Dead is never better. - We're gonna get out of here. - I just... (screaming) - Napoleon! - (all screaming) (all screaming) What the hell?! Shit! (grunts loudly) CRANK: You guys all right?! Amber. Napoleon! (straining) (both coughing) Where's my rifle? You OK? - Shit. - Amber! You guys all right? Yeah. We're all right. We're gonna find a way down. No problem. - Hang on. - (Napoleon coughing) Shit. (soft growling) (light buzzing) (whispers): Napoleon. What are you doing? Napoleon. I thought I heard something. (soft growling) (panting) CRANK: Ah, shit. I think that's the level they're on. You think we can climb down without gear? See that beam? If we can make it across, we slide down that. I think I can make that jump. What are you doing? Crank... Crank, wait! (screaming) Crank! - Fuck! - Shit! (screaming) Delmar! Delmar! (straining) Hang on! (straining) (panting) Thanks. Let's keep it moving. (grunting) (wood creaking) (grunting) (wood creaking) (whispers): Let's go. (panting) (static crackles) (Missy gasping and screaming) (groans softly) (whispers): All right. Mama. (gasping) Pretty... (screams, spits) Dirty... cunt! (screaming) So sweet. (moaning) (muffled screaming) (moaning) (muffled screaming) (screaming) (groans) No... With her... Papa, no. (grunting loudly) (screaming) (grunting) (sobbing screams) (fabric ripping) No! You give me baby. (screaming) (screaming in distance) - Shit. - Goddamn it. Come on. Motherfucker! (grunting) - (fabric ripping, Missy screaming) - CRANK: Missy! Help me! (sobbing): Somebody help me! (screams) (light fixture buzzing) (soft growling) (panting) Shit. Stump's headband. What? (soft growling) (screams) (sobbing): Holy shit! Oh! (panting) - (bats squealing) - (gasps) Where is he? There! (gunshot) - There! - (gunshot) (gunshots, bullets ricocheting) (gunshot, loud grunt) Gotcha. (barrel clicks empty) (growling) (Amber screaming) (both screaming) (screaming) (screaming) (sobbing): No! (grunts) (panting) (eerie voice mumbling) Napoleon... We got to go. He's got a gun. Come on. (growling) (sniffing) (snarling and sniffing) (growling) (sniffing) (growling) (sniffing) (growling) (sniffing, growling) Napoleon... (screams) (grunts) The hatch. Get the hatch. Get the hatch! - (Amber gasps) - Shh! DELMAR: Missy! - (sniffing) - Missy! CRANK: Which way? You... safe here. Safe. * CRANK: Right behind you. Let's go. DELMAR: Goddamn. What the hell happened here? - Shit! - (grunting) (automatic gunfire) (screams) (panting) (screams) Come on, bitch! (screaming) Yeah, baby! It's all about volley! - It's gotta have volley! - It's Crank. (grunts) You OK? I'm all right. I'm all right. Low range shoulder wound. Missed the bone completely. Damn. (grunts) - You good? - Yeah. Yeah. Who you fucking with, huh?! Who you fucking with?! Crank... Crank. You got any ammo left? Fuck. - (clip hits ground) - I'm out too. (spits) Delmar, bayonet. (quiet creaking) - NAPOLEON: Crank, Delmar. - (gasps) - Shit. - Down here. Oh, shit, you guys are alive. What happened to you? Delmar, are you all right? I'll be a hell of a lot better when we get out of here. - Were you shot? - I'm fine. - It's nothing. - Are you sure? - Hi... - Shit! (grunts) - What the hell is that? - NAPOLEON: He's OK. You out of your goddamned mind? He's one of them. - No, he just saved our lives. - No fear. You come. Follow me. Come. This way. Whoa, whoa. You good? I'm all right! Don't worry. I'm all right. - We've got to get him out of here. - Missy's not that far. - You heard her screams. - How are we gonna get her out of here without any goddamn ammo? - We can fight 'em with rocks and rifle butts if we have to. - Oh, who's Rambo resurrected now? I just want to get everyone out of here. Yeah? Well, tell that to Mickey and Spitter and... - Crank! Shut the hell up. - You trust that guy? He hid us from them. He didn't give us up. We don't have any choice. We have to trust him. Bullshit! God knows where he's taking us. DELMAR: To be honest with you, I'm not sure God knows anything about this place. Through here. Must through here. Jesus. (gagging) (gasping): Oh, shit. - AMBER: Holy shit... - Aw, man... Oh, God. (coughing) (sickly groaning) (panting) AMBER: Geez. (sickly groaning) (gags quietly) (panting, whimpering) (panting softly) (screams) - (gasping): It's Mickey! - Don't... don't look. AMBER: Oh, my God! (Amber retching, gasping) You sick fuck! You should be shot! I should kill you! - Crank! - What, man?! CRANK: Why you always trying to shut me down, Delmar, huh?! (gasping breaths): Don't freak out. Don't freak out. (gasping): Don't freak out... don't-don't freak out... (sobbing) What? Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Delmar... What the fuck, man! You were hit twice. Oh... why didn't... why didn't you tell me? Don't do this, man. Don't do this! (whispers): Don't do this. Don't leave me, man. Don't fuckin' leave me. Fuck! Give me a Medipack. Napoleon, give me a... give me a Medipack. Come on. Crank... (panting, sniffling) I'm not gonna leave him. I'm not gonna leave him here, you sick fuck! You're not gonna have him! OK, OK. I'm gonna get you out of here. Get us out of here. (panting) Come. (panting) (floor creaking) (whispers): I'll get you of here. (panting) CRANK: Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! I bet this leads outside! (loud grunt) How do I get this fuckin' door open? (strained grunting) - Come on! - Hey, would you forget it, Crank? (strained grunting) (loud grunt) NAPOLEON: Would you forget it? It's a blast door. You're never gonna get it open. Goddamn it! (pounding, Crank grunting) We need to get out of here! You fuckin' retard! - Crank! - How the fuck do we get out of here? - What about Missy? - Would you get off this shit that she's alive? Missy is fuckin' dead! OK? Just like the rest of 'em! Just like we're gonna be if we don't get the fuck out of here! We are not leaving this place without her. Stupid. OK? How the fuck do we get out of here, man? Which way is it?! It's over there. - It's over here! - I'm going back for her. Amber, stay here. - Guys! - Amber? CRANK: Oh, shit, guys! Check it out! Everything we need. Hey! (Crank grunting) (grunting loudly) No touch. No touch. - No touch. No touch! - Amber, please don't... Hey! I'm begging you. I'd go back for you. Amber... (yells) (gasping) (quietly): Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, shit. (panting) (laughs) (laughs, pants) (whispers): Dynamite. Perfect. (panting) Oh, yeah... I'm gonna get out of here after all. (laughs) Oh, yeah. Ah, Delmar, we're getting out of here, baby. (cord groaning) Fuck! (screams, gasps) (rumbling, debris clattering, coughing) AMBER: Hurry! (coughing) - You OK? - Yeah. Crank! (panting) (coughing) Crank? (gagging) - Crank! - (echoing): Crank, Crank... - (Missy screaming) - (punch lands) (screaming in distance) It's Missy. (electrical buzzing and crackling) (screeching) (yelling) (screams) (yells) (screeches in pain) (yelling fiercely) (raspy choking) (yells) (gasping) (clatter, rumble in distance) (sighs) Let's do it. (grunting in distance) (panting quietly) (whispers): Missy's phone. What? Do you still have Missy's phone? Wait here. (grunting) AMBER (over phone): I can't take any more. I don't want to be quiet! I want to be out of here. We're gonna die. Don't you get it? We're gonna die! (Amber continues over phone) (panting) AMBER: I can't take any more. (grunting fiercely) Genius. (grunting fiercely) AMBER: We're gonna die. Don't you get it? We're gonna die. Jesus Christ. - (crying quietly): Amber... - You OK? Gimme this arm. Amber... oh, my God... Stay with me. NAPOLEON: It's OK. We gotcha. - We gotcha. - Where is everybody else? (grunting in distance) - AMBER: We're gonna die! - (yells) (yells loudly) CLYDE: # Out came the sun and dried up all the rain # # And the itsy-bitsy spider came up the waterspout... # Love you, Mommy. (yells angrily) Get me out of here, please. Don't let him touch me again. - (distant grunt) - Come on. Let's go. Please... don't let him touch me. - Amber... - Come on. We got you. - Napoleon... - I don't hear him any more. What are you doing? Let's just get out of here. Hey! Please. We don't have time... (yelling fiercely) (grunts) (yelling fiercely) (growls): Come here. - (Missy screams) - (roaring, grunting): Die! Bitch! (roaring) Die! - (gunshot) - (grunts) (groans) (grunts softly) - (groaning) - Napoleon, get up. Get up! - (grunting) - Napoleon, get up! (yelling fiercely) - (choking) - (grunting fiercely) Die. (choking) NAPOLEON: Amber! (yells) - Die! - (Amber screams) (gasping) Die, die... (gasps in pain) (panting, shuddering) Oh, shit... Come on. Come on. - Get her. Come on. - Missy, let's go. - AMBER: Come on! - Motherfucker! NAPOLEON: Missy! Come on! Missy! - (roars) - (screams) (grunting) Don't let him get his knife! Napoleon! (yells in pain) He's got my leg! Let go of her! - (Napoleon yelling) - Missy! Get something! Missy! - (yells) - (wailing in pain) (both yelling) (groaning) (Napoleon yells) (gagging) (panting) (whimpers) (panting) (computer beeping, crackling) # It's time to go, go, go, go! # (rhythmic scratching) # Explain the reasons # # Explain the rhymes # # It's not required # # Inside our minds # # It's safe to try, no need to justify # # It doesn't matter # # It doesn't matter what they say # # It doesn't matter # # It doesn't matter what they say # # We'll take that day trip at the end of the road # # Welcome to the world where the air I breathe is mine # # There's nothing to overwhelm me and nothing to cloud my mind # Be anyone, do anything I'd ever want to try # # Time doesn't exist here # # He will never die # # Bring it down, bring it down # # Bring it down, bring it down # # Bring it down, bring it down # # Bring it down, bring it down # # Na, na, na, na... # # Na, na, na, na... # # Na, na, na, na... # # Na, na, na, na... # # Na, na, na, na... # # Na, na, na, na... # # Welcome to the world where the air I breathe is mine # # There's nothing to overwhelm me # # And nothing to cloud my mind # # Be anyone, do anything I'd ever want to try # # Time doesn't exist here # # He will never die # # He will never die. # # They'll kill you dead # # They're gonna eat your head # # They'll make you scream # # It's so obscene # # In the hills # # They're built to kill # # They've been abused, with nothing to lose... # MAN (speaks over music): Between 1945 and 1962, the United States conducted 331 atmospheric nuclear tests. Today the government still denies the genetic effects caused by the radioactive fallout. # The hills have eyes # # They'll eat you alive # # A dark surprise # # The hills have eyes # # You're gonna die # # You're gonna die # # Get out of town # # You're gonna go to Hell # # You'd better get, so you can live to tell # # And run away # # But you can never hide # # You'll never see 'em, 'cause they'll eat your eyes # MAN: Nuked by the army, chased by the cops. They'll never give up. It's all they've got. Hunted, confronted, they hid underground, killing and eating all who come 'round. # The hills have eyes # # They'll eat you alive # # A dark surprise # # The hills have eyes # # You're gonna die # # Gonna die # # The hills have eyes # # The hills have eyes # # You're gonna die # # You're gonna die # # The hills have eyes # # A dark surprise # # D-D-D-Dark surprise # # The hills have eyes # # You're gonna die # # The hills have eyes # # They'll eat you alive # # They're gonna eat you # # A dark surprise # # The hills have eyes # (fading out): # You're gonna die... #