RETURN OF THE APES

                 RETURN OF THE APES  

                              by Terry Hayes

                                first draft

                                   1996

DEEP SPACE.

No atmosphere, no life, nothing. Just a web of lights- a billion stars hang

in a velvet void. The only sound is the howl of the cosmic wind.

The light of a distant sun strikes a rising planet. We see ragged

continents and oceans wreathed in cloud. This is earth rise. Our world

spins slowly in space, a thing of beauty, of awesome majesty. In all this

nothingness - life.

We push in on the planet - in to the Americas. The wind grows louder -

A PUEBLO VILLAGE.

A broken-down pick-up bumps into a God-forsaken villagea cluster of adobe

houses, blinding flurries of dust and sand. The pick-up stops in front of a

crumbling church. A man in his 60s gets out carrying a medical bag. This is

the DOCTOR. '

A WOMAN'S FACE.

Screaming. She's very young - a South American Indian - lying on a bed in a

corner of one of the houses. She is in the final throes of childbirth, a

sheet draped over her loins. The Doctor works between her legs, encouraging

her in Spanish.

The local PRIEST, not long out of the seminary, crouches at her side

counting off the beads of a rosary. He looks like he is about to pass out.

SUDDENLY THE WOMAN BITES DOWN HARD ON HER LIP. A THIN LINE OF BLOOD COURSES

DOWN HER CHIN. THE BREATH EXPLODES FROM HER LUNGS AS SHE PUSHES REALLY HARD

-

DOCTOR

Arriva!

He lifts the child from her loins, but it makes no sound. We don't see the

baby - just the shock on the Doctor's face. The mother struggles up to see

her child.

The Doctor grabs the sheet from her torso and covers the baby with it. He

thrusts the bundle into the Priest's hands.

DOCTOR (CONT'D)

(in Spanish)

Dead - the child is dead. Now go!

We hold on the mother's anguished face. Dissolve to

A HELICOPTER

Off the roof of a tall hospital building. As it rises up into the night we

see a red cross painted on its side. It's an air ambulance.

The chopper turns away. The Manhattan skyline, every skyscraper a blaze of

lights, opens up behind it. The chopper swoops over the Brooklyn bridge and

into the night.

GROVE OF TREES

Winter's coming on - every leaf is a different shade of amber and gold. The

helicopter drops down between the branches and lands on an immaculately

tended lawn. Surrounding it are the gracious buildings of a great

university. Harvard.

Two paramedics clamber out of the back of the helicopter and load a

stainless steel casket onto a gurney. They wheel it fast towards one of the

buildings. As they go' through the front doors, we hold on a sign etched

into the stone

DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY

A PAIR OF MECHANICAL HANDS

slide a long cylindrical "key" into the stainless steel casket. We pull

back to reveal the casket lies in a sealed, uncontaminated room. A group of

people in lab coats -scientists and researchers - stare through the glass

walls.

A young TECHNICIAN, working at a console, keyboards in a series of

commands.

Sswhish. The top of the steel casket swings open. Clouds of white gas

stream out -whatever's inside has been nitrogen cooled.

The gas clears. Lying inside is the body of a newborn child - except that

the baby has the skin, the face and the features of a man of eighty. The

scientists and the researchers react - shocked.

One of the mechanical hands glides towards the baby. In its fingers it

holds a long steel scalpel. This is the highest-tech autopsy you've ever

seen. The scalpel drives down, about to open the chest cavity -

BLOOD SPRAYS

But not from the baby's chest - it's in glass vials, exploding as white-hot

flames consume them. A plastic-gloved lab assistant, silhouetted against

the flames, is emptying hospital waste into a furnace. He slams the door

shut.

He turns we see his face. He's in his 4Os, handsome in a rough-hewn way - a

strong jaw and a muscular body. There's a cool intelligence in his eyes,

but a two-day beard and a worn-out uniform make him look like a man who,

between youth and middle-age, lost his way. And so he has. His name is WILL

ROBINSON.

He takes a steel trolley, wheels it through a set of swing doors and out of

sight.

CLOSED CIRCUIT TV SCREEN

features the image of one of the scientists we recognize from the autopsy.

She's in her 30s - attractive, long hair left loose on her shoulders, an

air of authority about her. Her name is BILLIE RAE DIAMOND. She is a

Professor of Biology.

We tilt down from the screen. It hangs from a wall in a deserted laboratory

-overhead lights, rows and rows of wire animal cages. Moving down death

row, feeding the lab animals, is Will Robinson.

TWO SAD-EYED CHIMPS, CLEANING EACH OTHER IN THEIR TINY CAGE, TURN AND STARE

AT HIM. SUDDENLY WILL STOPS - HE'S HEARD SOMETHING ON THE SCREEN THAT HAS

CAUGHT HIS ATTENTION. HE TURNS AND LOOKS -

DIAMOND

The exact cause of death is still unknown. What is certain - we're dealing

with something we've never seen before. Every organ in the body is

affected...

Superimposed over Diamond's face is a three dimensional, computer-generated

graphic of the baby's body.

Will forgets about what he's doing. He walks towards the screen. We push in

on it. Screeds of new data appear

Vascular System ...............Atrophied

Neurological Function .........Senile dementia

We hold on Will's eyes - he stares at it.

AN AUDITORIUM

Billy Rae Diamond stands on a podium continuing her briefing. About forty

scientists are sitting in front of her in a dimly-lit lecture hall.

Diamond is even more impressive in person - she is tall and gracious but

you don't become a Professor at Harvard' at her age without having an iron

will and a sparkling intelligence. She speaks with great authority -

DIAMOND (CONT'D)

The baby in question, Michael James Flanagan -she points at the

computer-generated graphic on a huge screen

was born at New York Hospital yesterday.

MAP OF THE WORLD ILLUMINATES AN ADJOINING SCREEN -

DIAMOND

But the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta has received similar reports

from a village in Bolivia, two cities in Australia, seven countries in

Europe, a cluster of cases in Namibia and Mexico. Forty-two cases in all.

As she speaks, pinpoints of light on the map identify the exact locations.

They dot their way across the entire globe. Dr Diamond turns to face her

audience-

DIAMOND (CONT'D)

Like Michael Flanagan, they were full-term babies. Two hundred and seventy

eight days since conception and yet, by all reasonable medical standards,

they have completed their entire life cycle. They have gone from conception

to death, not in three score years and ten, but in slightly less than nine

months. Michael Flanagan died of old age.

Silence as Diamond lets the scientists and researchers absorb it. On a

balcony high above, another man is taking notes. He sits alone, almost

hidden in shadow. It's Will Robinson.

SHEETS OF ICE ON A SHUTTER DOOR

Will crouches in front of a row of self-storage units on the edge of town.

It's night, the place is deserted. He slips a rusted key into a padlock.

Snapl The key breaks.

Will curses. He grabs a piece of timber and pulls a nail out of it. He

slides the nail into the padlock and manipulates the tumblers. The padlock

springs open.

SPIDERS

weave a web in a corner of the storage unit. A work light hangs from the

ceiling. Will is ripping open stacks of boxes from long ago. He puts

together a pile of yellowing files and old floppy disks.

PULLS OUT A CASSETTE TAPE AND STARES AT IT, UNSURE WHAT'S ON IT. HE TAKES A

CASSETTE PLAYER FROM OUT OF THE JUNK, SLIDES IT IN AND PRESSES "PLAY"A HUGE

ROUND OF APPLAUSE. AS IT DIES, WE HEAR A MAN'S VOICE. IT'S WILL, SPEAKING

FROM YEARS AGO -

WILL

(on tape)

I would like to thank the faculty and staff for this great honor...

We push in on Will's face as he listens to himself...

WILL (CONT'D)

have had the opportunity to work with three talented colleagues. I'm

privileged to also call them my friends -

A shadow of pain crosses his face. He shuts off the tape and sits

motionless.

LAFAYETTE PARK

Night. Homeless people in the park build cardboard shelters against a

coming storm. Across the road, the first drops of rain splatter against the

White House.

A string of Government cars pass through the huge gates and pull up in

front of the West Portico. From inside, we hear a man's voice -

well-spoken, authoritative

PRESIDENT (O.S.)

There's no mistake - you're sure?

JEFFERSON LIBRARY

Diamond sits in the President's study - book-lined walls, a fire in the

hearth. A group of men sit on the sofasthe Surgeon-General, the Chief of

Staff, the National Security Advisor, the Secretaw of Health. A table is

littered with graphs end files.

DIAMOND

We've got five thousand cases now, Mr President. That's in three weeks. The

number is doubling every hundred and sixty-eight hours.

The President stands near a window, half in shadow, the firelight playing

across his face. He's in his 50's but the strain of office makes him look

older.

DIAMOND (CONT'D)

That's a geometric progression, sir. In three months there'Il be over seven

million cases. After that we hit the wall -

She pushes a thick, bound volume across the table.

DIAMOND (CONT'D)

According to this, there won't be a live birth on the planet.

The President looks at her for a moment. Then he reaches down and picks up

the bound volume. It's hundreds of pages of numbers and projections.

PRESIDENT

These are just computer projections -

species don't disappear that fast.

DIAMOND

Tell that to the dinosaurs, sir.

He looks out the window at the winter storm sweeping down on them.

NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISOR

What date - when exactly do we hit this wall?

DIAMOND

Six months and twenty-one days.

Silence. The President keeps looking out the window.

PRESIDENT

Can't somebody tell me - what exactly are we dealing with. Is it a virus or

what?