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FADE IN:
INT. BOILER ROOM
DEEP, GRIM MUSIC in ULTRA-STEREO, SUPERSATURATED COLORS,
CAMERA MOVES SLICK AND OMINOUS, as we BEGIN A SERIES OF CLOSE
SHOTS OF GRIMY HANDS. BUILDING --
A STEEL HAND, shining dully in the dark shadows of a filthy
boiler room - being assembled slowly over --
METAL FINGERS -- COMPOSITE SINEW -- the SPARK of hammer on
metal -- then -- the thing suddenly flexes as if alive --
CLOSE ON REMOTE CONTROL DEVICE -- clean hands manipulating
levers --
THE STEEL HAND -- forms into a heavy fist -- thumps on table -
- then the GRIMY HANDS of the CREATOR thrust in again --
begin affixing long, shining blades to the end of the steel
fingers --
CLOSER ON BLADES -- gleaming, dangerously long.
CUTAWAYS TO FURNACES -- belching FIRE and SMOKE.
STEAM PIPES -- hissing and dripping into endless depths of
this hellish place.
THE HAND -- fitted with the final claw -- now a super-modern,
almost futuristic version of Freddy's glove -- flexing and
trembling.
THE MAKER'S RIGHT HAND -- caresses it -- then retracts and
lays itself on the filthy work bench -- the MAKER'S LEFT HAND
ENTERS FRAME WITH A HUGE CLEAVER and raises it over the wrist
of the right hand -- then strikes down hard!
CUT TO A CAMERA AND DOLLY -- BEHIND, IN THE SHADOWS -- A
SHADOWY CREW GASPS -- we hear a muffled EEUWWW --
THE STUMP OF THE MAKER'S RIGHT ARM -- now spurting blood --
raises --
VOICE (O.S.)
More blood, more blood!
Nearby, CHUCK and TERRY, two young SPFX assistants, pump fake
blood through tubing, using large plastic syringes. It's a
messy job, they're covered with fake blood themselves, as
their boss, CHASE PORTER, good-looking, early 30's, tweaks
the levers of a remote control device.
BEHIND THEM, at the edge of the set, Chase's wife, HEATHER
LANGENKAMP, 30, dressed in woman's pajamas, and his son
DYLAN, 5, watch from their chairs. Heather, appalled by the
scene's violence, puts her hand over Dylan's startled eyes.
THE STUMP OF THE MAKER'S ARM thrusts now into the cuff of the
steel hand, synthetic tendons snake out of the steel hand and
bury themselves in the maker's wrists, and the unseen actor
flexes the razor-sharp steel blades, wheels and SLASHES INTO
CAMERA as we hear
VOICE (cont'd) (O.S.)
CUT! Fantastic!
BUZZER. THE FURNACES STOP BELCHING FIRE. SMOKE, STEAM and
WATER stop dead. Instead there's CHATTER, LIGHTS and
movement as the crew bustles in to reset for the next take.
The director, WES CRAVEN, rushes over to Chase ad thumps him
on the back.
CRAVEN
Chase, you're a genius! This makes his
old claw look like Mother Theresa's!
Chase waves a 'them too' hand towards his assistants.
CRAVEN (cont'd)
You, too, Terry, Chuck. Great blood!
CHUCK
Thank you.
TERRY
It's some of our best work.
Laughter. Craven cracks a bottle of Lipovitan. Chuck walks
by with dripping steel hand as Chase rumples Dylan's hair.
CHASE
Want to see some neat stuff?
Dylan looks up wide-eyed.
HEATHER
Chase, no.
Chase laughs.
CHASE
Come on, it's only make believe!
And lifts Dylan, leading Heather away. STEADICAM WITH THEM
as they move off-set through crew and equipment into a work
area behind the boiler room flats.
He sets Dylan on a workbench. The kid's surrounded by
SNARLING MONSTER HEADS, LON WITHERED ARMS, EVISCERATED
TORSOS, propped in corners and peering off temporary shelves.
The handiwork of Chase's SPFX MAKEUP wizardry.
CHASE (cont'd)
You hungry, Dylan?
He give Dylan a large Chinese food takeout container. Dylan
opens it and a reptilian head jumps out. Dylan gives a start
as Chase laughs.
CHASE (cont'd)
Gotcha!
HEATHER
Chase!
Chase takes it back from Dylan. Shows it's only a hand
puppet. Meanwhile Chuck's brought the claw back from the set
and placed it on a work armature.
CHUCK
It should have flexed more. I think the
servos got shorted out with blood.
CHASE
Insulate 'em with some styro. It wasn't
designed to be submerged, for Petesakes.
Heather looks at it eerily.
HEATHER
I don't like that thing.
He turns, a funny gleam in his eye.
CHASE
This thing puts bread on our table.
DYLAN
Is it alive, Daddy?
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)
Shit!
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!
FIRE, SMOKE AND STEAM HOWLING as Chuck crashes blindly into
Chase and both go down. Terry claws cursing through the
jumble atop the toolbench, trying to find where the damn
thing went.
ANGLE ON THE FLOOR - THE CLAW skitters down on one leg of the
bench fast as a wharf rat and attacks Terry's foot, slicing
through his Achilles tendon!
TERRY shrieks and falls hard, and the instant he slams into
the floor, the claw drives straight into his heart! Terry
screams as the claw wheels and scrambles straight for the
sprawl of Chase and Chuck's convulsing body!
CU CHASE
reacting in horror.
CHASE'S POV TO CHUCK'S BODY as the CLAW APPEARS over the rim
of Chuck's shoulder, inches from Chase's face, spreading its
talons wide!
CHASE
Heather!
INT. BEDROOM - DAY
Heather convulses in bed. Terror elevated by...
CHASE
Heather!! Earthquake!!
Chase's already half out of bed, clawing at her.
CHASE (cont'd)
Get in the doorway
DYLAN (O.S.)
Mommmmeee!
That voice jolts her fully awake.
HEATHER
Dylan!
A framed picture falls with a deafening crash, its glass
shattering, narrowly missing Chase. Heather sprawls out of
the room.
INT. STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS
HAND-HELD and rough, CAMERA grabbing the action as best it
can. Heather half runs, half braces against bucking walls
while pictures and china shatter. Chase staggering behind
her into
INT. DYLAN'S ROOM - DAY
The child sits upright among his twisted bedclothes staring
at the toys swinging wildly from his ceiling. Then it's
over.
CAMERA STABILIZES, but remains HANDHELD. There has not been
nor will there be any MUSIC CUES.
The house has fallen still. The swimming pool, seen outside
the window, slaps against its walls. There's a weird
ELECTRONIC ULULATION outside, up and down the street, like
spaceships landing. Heather looks at Chase.
CHASE
Car alarms. You okay?
She nods, scrambles up and lifts Dylan, who's begun to cry.
Hugs him. He's full of jagged energy, soaked with sweat.
CHASE (cont'd)
You okay, chief?
DYLAN
no.
HEATHER
(feels his forehead)
You have a fever, sweetie?
Dylan shakes his head. Heather kisses him.
CHASE
Just an earthquake, Dylan. Every once in
a while we get a few.
HEATHER
No biggie, really.
Chase rumples the kid's hair. Then Dylan says solemnly.
DYLAN
Daddy, blood.
Heather follows Dylan's eyes to Chase, to his bloody hand.
Chase notices with a start, grabbing one of Dylan's T-shirts
and wrapping it, saying a bit too quickly.
CHASE
Nothing, guys, just a scratch.
But it's already been dripping through the cotton.
HEATHER
Where'd you...get that?
Chase shrugs.
CHASE
The picture, I guess. When it fell.
It's nothing, really.
He gives her a look, like 'cool it in front of the kid, at
least', and turns.
CHASE (cont'd)
I'll put a bandage on it. Don't worry
about it.
And he goes out. Heather looks at Dylan and he looks at her.
It's hard to say which is more frightened.
INT. KITCHEN/DEN - DAY
Heather, keeping to herself, tries to make order from the
mess in the cabinets. Chase, hand bandaged, brooms broken
crockery until the kettle whistles, then abandons the cleanup
to make instant coffee.
HEATHER
One of mom's cups got broken.
CHASE
I'm sorry. At least we're in on piece.
She says nothing. In the living room, the TV NEWSCASTER
drones on about the morning's 5.5 quake, ('...latest of what
Seismologists are calling a swarm').
HEATHER
Do we have to watch that?
Chase, washing down a fast piece of toast, yawns and blinks.
CHASE
I thought you turned it on.
He zaps it off. Heather eyes him, then turns on Dylan who's
making a face in his oatmeal. Scary eyes. Gape of mouth.
HEATHER
Dylan, it's breakfast. Not arts and
crafts
(feels Chase watching)
What?
CHASE
You get any sleep last night?
HEATHER
More or less.
(swipes hair from eyes)
Dylan, time to get dressed. I'm late.
DYLAN
You going away?
HEATHER
Just for a few hours. Julie'll be with
you.
He sighs, then goes into his room.
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - LATER - DAY
The two dress, Heather rather smartly. Chase, in jeans and
sweatshirt, is packing a small overnighter. Chase again
notes Heather's withdrawal.
CHASE
Anything other than the obvious bothering
you?
HEATHER
Five earthquakes in three weeks is
enough.
CHASE
Hasn't been another call, has there?
She shakes her head. Chase looks relieved.
CHASE (cont'd)
Two full weeks without him. Maybe he got
run over by a truck.
Heather doesn't seem to take any comfort in this.
HEATHER
He feels closer, if anything.
(low)
It's giving me nightmares.
He looks at her more closely.
CHASE
You have one last night?
She finally nods yes. He softens his voice.
CHASE (cont'd)
It's just a reaction to the earthquake,
Heather.
HEATHER
Maybe.
(beat)
Or maybe I shouldn't do this interview
today.
CHASE
You've got to get back on the horse some
time.
(off her look)
Look, you've had a nutcase making
harassing phone calls. I know how scary
that feels.
HEATHER
No, you don't.
CHASE
(kind)
Okay, but it still doesn't mean it can't
be over with.
She turns away.
HEATHER
What if it isn't over?
CHASE
(beat)
Maybe you should tell me your dream.
She give s shrug, like it's silly to even talk about it.
HEATHER
It was nothing. We were both working on
some movie, and a special effects thing
went horribly wrong. Terry and Chuck
were...hurt. You were almost...
(at his bandaged hand)
You were even cut.
CHASE
(uneasy)
You probably were half awake and saw me
get nicked by that picture glass. Dreams
work like that.
(beat)
You want me not to go on this job?
HEATHER
Just be careful, okay?
CHASE
I should survive two days in Palmdale
supplying soap bubbles for a detergent
commercial, don't you think?
HEATHER
(reluctant smile)
Guess so.
CHASE
48 hours. Back before you know it.
He kisses her and she kisses back, holding on a moment. Then
he grabs his suitcase and exits. Heather closes her eyes.
Hears him say goodbye to Dylan downstairs, hears the front
door close.
Then a brittle BREAKING SOUND. Heather looks up and sees
FOUR THIN CRACKS snaking down her bedroom wall. A moment
later the TV can be heard again.
INT. DEN - DAY
Heather races down to find Chase, but is stopped when she
sees Dylan directly in front of the TV screen, impassively
watching her. As Nancy in NIGHTMARE I, looking in horror to
INSERT TV (FROM NIGHTMARE I)
Tina in the bloody bodybag standing in the doorway to Nancy's
schoolroom.
TINA (TV)
Naaancyyyy....
CU NANCY
reacting in terror.
HEATHER (O.S.)
Dylan, I don't want you watching that.
BACK TO HEATHER
as she snaps off the TV. Then in fury pulls out the plug as
well. The instant she does, the silent child lets out an ear-
piercing howl.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Dylan, stop it! What in the world's
gotten in to you?
THE PHONE RINGS. Dylan instantly falls silent. Heather
looks at him. He's eerily still now, just watching her. The
phone RINGS a second time and she snatches it up, still
distracted by her son's eyes.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Hello?
Through a deep ROARING OF BOILERS we HEAR a strange garbled
VOICE sing
VOICE (FILTER)
One two...
She reacts, then slams it down. Stares at it. That sound -
and the voice - deep, murderous, mocking. A flawless
imitation of...Freddy.
Scared now, she runs to the front door just in time to see
EXT. HEATHER'S POV THE STREET
CHASE'S PICKUP TRUCK giving a honk as it drives off.
INT. KITCHEN/FRONT DOOR
HEATHER
Chase!
But he hasn't heard her, and soon is out of sight. Heather
closes the door, turns and sees Dylan, still staring at her.
DYLAN
Someone's coming.
HEATHER
What?
An instant later, something gives the whole house a subtle
SHAKE, rattling everything in it. Heather grabs Dylan, but
there's nothing more.
Then the DOORBELL rings.
Heather freezes, paralyzed by unspeakable fear. Then
VOICE (O.S.)
(through door)
Heather?
Heather opens the door to JULIE, a direct, open-faced young
woman. She blinks at Heather's pale face.
JULIE
Everything okay?
Heather nods sheepishly.
HEATHER
Yeah, Julie, I'm sorry. I just
thought...there was an earthquake, I
think. Little one, but...
JULIE
Big truck went right by before you opened
the door.
(grins)
Life on the Fault Line.
She looks past Heater. Gives Dylan a smile.
JULIE (cont'd)
Hey, tiger!
She lifts him with a laugh. Heather watches the two,
fighting a wave of vertigo.
HEATHER
You think he has a fever? He felt warm
to me this morning.
Julie feels his forehead.
JULIE
Seems okay.
(eyes Heather)
That all that's wrong? You seem...
The telephone RINGS again. Heather snatches it up.
HEATHER
Leave us alone, you creep!
VOICE (FILTER)
(beat)
LA Limousine, ma'am. Just wanted you to
know I'm out front.
Julie looks at her with surprise. Heather walks to the front
door and checks.
EXT. HEATHER'S POV THE STREET
A BLACK LIMO idles in the driveway.
INT. KITCHEN/FRONT DOOR
HEATHER
Uh, sorry. Hang on a minute.
HEATHER closes the door, returns to the kitchen and hangs up
the phone.
JULIE
Heather, what is it?
HEATHER
(low)
Dunno. Just have this feeling today...
She bites her lip, then Dylan speaks, soberly, quietly.
DYLAN
Mommy stay home, then.
He turns and walks into his room. Julie looks at Heather.
JULIE
He'll be fine, don't worry.
She goes in the bedroom after Dylan. Heater takes a long
breath...then grabs the phone and dials.
MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)
Studio B.
HEATHER
Hi. This is Heather Langenkamp.
MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)
The car's no there yet?
HEATHER
No. I...listen, I can't make it in
today.
MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)
(beat)
You're kidding, right?
Heather shakes her head.
HEATHER
I'm sorry, I can't.
MAN'S VOICE (FILTER)
Listen, dammit.
HEATHER
I just can't.
She hangs up. Starts for Dylan's room, then the PHONE RINGS.
Heather comes back and picks it up, fully expecting it to be
the studio and dreading it.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Yes?
She reacts, realizing too late she's listening to the HISS OF
STEAM.
VOICE (FILTER)
One two...
She slams the phone down. Stares at the thing like it was a
snake. It RINGS AGAIN. She hesitates. Picks it up finally.
Holds it at a distance for a moment. Then puts it to her
ear.
HEATHER
Hello?
VOICE (FILTER)
Freddy's coming for yooooouuuu.
She recoils and slams it down! Turns and kicks a chair.
CRASH! Senses someone behind her and whirls to see Julie
standing in Dylan's doorway.
JULIE
What is it, Heather?
Heather blinks.
HEATHER
Damn caller.
Julie crosses to her, lowering her voice so Dylan can't hear.
JULIE
He's started again?
Heather just nods.
JULIE (cont'd)
Sick bastard
(puts her hand over her mouth)
Sorry.
(brighter)
Dylan. He doesn't have a fever like you
thought. Probably just your nerves.
Heather gives her a funny look.
HEATHER
Nerves?
Julie blushes.
JULIE
I just meant form the shaker this
morning. I mean, everyone's freaked out
at how many we've been having. Then the
calls.
Heather starts to say something, then the PHONE RINGS again.
She snatches it up and shouts.
HEATHER
Stop calling me, you sonuvabitch!
VOICE #2 (FILTER)
(beat)
You talk to your agent this way?
(Heather blanches)
And you try to cancel an appearance on
AM/LA at the last damn minute. What the
hell's with you?
Heather sags in dismay.
HEATHER
I'm sorry, Jerry. I just...can't leave
the house right now.
JERRY (FILTER)
What, you wanna single-handedly bury your
career?! Lose your house, put your
husband and kid out on the street? Or
just give your old agent a heart attack?
Heather slumps.
HEATHER
Okay, fine, I'll be there. It's just,
the calls started again.
Jerry switches to his commiserative voice.
JERRY (FILTER)
Unfortunately, this kinda crap is part of
the business these days, Heather. Have
you thought of buying a good handgun?
HEATHER
I've got a five-year old in the house,
Jerry!
JERRY (FILTER)
He's an L.A. kid, probably already has
one.
(laughs)
Call me after the interview, okay?
And he hangs up. Heather looks, sees Dylan staring at her
from his doorway.
HEATHER
Dylan, I gotta go. Forgive me?
DYLAN
Bye.
She crosses and gives him a big hug. We see his face over
her shoulder. Lost.
EXT. THE HOUSE - DAY
Heather and Julie exit an attractive house in an affluent
neighborhood.
JULIE
I'll call the cops for you. You've got
the number on the fridge, right?
HEATHER
Thanks. Just give them the time he
called. They're keeping a list,
supposedly.
(gives a hug)
Sorry. My nerves are so raw these days.
JULIE
'S okay.
Julie gives a wave as Heather heads down the walk.
CLOSER ON HEATHER
now eyeing the dark car in the drive, slowing as she sees.
The DRIVER, waiting, holding the back door. A big man, faced
away, head distinctively bald. It could almost be...Freddy.
He turns. It's just a driver, pale-faced and antsy. Heather
gets in.
INT. LIMO/EXT. TV STUDIO - MOVING - DAY
HEATER
staring out the window, lost in thought.
THE DRIVER
studies her intently in his mirror.
DRIVER
You played that girl...in that
movie...with the guy with the
(claws his hand; Heather gives
an uneasy smile)
Yeah, sure, that's you.
(smiles darkly)
That's what I love about this job, I get
to meet the stars.
HEATHER
I'm hardly a star.
DRIVER
You kidding? I love your stuff. First
was the best. Where your girl friend's
cut open and dragged across the ceiling?
Awesome!
(missing Heather's flinch)
And when all that blood comes out of your
boyfriend's bed? Thought I'd shi...
Heather finds the switch for the window between them. He
gives a nasty look as the gap closes.
DRIVER (cont'd)
But they should never've killed off
Freddy!
Heather sinks back into the leather. A moment later the limo
lurches to a stop and her door is jerked open. A YOUNG MAN
leans in and grabs her arm.
P.A.
Heather? We're gonna have to run!
EXT. TV STATION PARKING LOT - DAY
And he nearly yanks her out of the car.
INT. TV STUDIO
LIGHTS BLINDING INTO LENS. CAMERA TIPS DOWN TO REVEAL
HEATHER and a smiling TALKSHOW HOST.
HOST
So, Heather, we're coming up on the 10th
anniversary of the first Nightmare on Elm
Street. It's five sequels later. Tell
us how this amazing series has affected
your life personally.
Heather strains for a smile. Shrugs.
HEATHER
I don't know if it has, really. With the
exception of One and Three, I've pretty
much kept out of it. I'm working in
television now. The hours let me spend
more time with my husband and little boy.
HOST
Now that you have a child, is it possible
you've decided horror is bad for
children?
HEATHER
No, not really. I...
HOST
Do you let your child watch your movies?
HEATHER
My child? No...but...
The host cocks his head.
HOST
What about another sequel? Is Freddy
really dead?
Heather twitches, responding a little too quickly.
HEATHER
Of course he is.
(then, softer)
Freddy's dead and gone.
HOST
(setting it up)
And how about your co-star in NIGHTMARE
I. Would you trust him alone with your
child?
HEATHER
(a little lost now)
Robert? I...
HOST
(big smile)
Maybe we should ask him, hmmm? We've got
a surprised, Heather. A great big
surprise for you and our audience.
A discernible rustle goes through the place. Heather smiles
gamely. Not knowing what the hell they're pulling. The host
stands and yells.
HOST (cont'd)
Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands
together for the best of the bad. Ro-
bert Ennn-gluuuuund!!!!
And ROBERT ENGLUND strolls out with a good-natured wave in
full Freddy MAKE-UP! His fans erupt with thunderous applause
and cheers. After deafening WHISTLES the boys (many dressed
in Freddy customs, complete with plastic claws) settle into a
chant of FRED-DY! FRED-DY! FRED-DY!
Englund stalks into the spotlight, hooks his claw through the
air and growls.
ROBERT ENGLUND
You're all my children now!
The place goes wild.
HOLD ON HEATHER
looking at that red and green back cavorting against the
blinding light. The steel claws waving and poking as Englund
milks it for all it's worth, reminded of a nightmare she'd
much rather forget.
INT. GREEN ROOMS/EXT. WALKWAYS OUTSIDE - DAY
Heather gathers her things. In an adjoining room, Robert
stands in the doorway to the outside, casually elegant now in
civilian, signing autographs for a throng of kids. He
glances at her out of the corner of his eye, sensing her
mood.
ROBERT ENGLUND
You okay?
HEATHER
I'm fine.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Everything went great, I thought. We
really got you, didn't we?
HEATHER
I don't know why you didn't tell me,
that's all.
He waves off the last of the kids and closes his outside
door, crossing into her room and exiting with her. CAMERA
FOLLOWS as they walk, KIDS blockaded BG by STUDIO SECURITY
heading away.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Hey, they loved the expression on your
face. I think they'd love to see us
together again!
Heather glances back at the kids yelling after him.
HEATHER
In what, a romantic comedy?
ROBERT ENGLUND
(devilish)
Just because it's a love story doesn't
mean it can't have a decapitation or two.
The P.A. reappears with a cellular phone.
MAN
Heather? Call for you!
Heather looks at the phone. Puts it to her ear.
HEATHER
Yes?
SARA (O.S.)
Heather, this is Sara Risher over at New
Line. How are you?
HEATHER
Oh, hi. I'm fine, Sara. My God, a voice
from the past!
SARA (FILTER)
Really! Listen, Heather, I won't take
but a minute of your time. It's just
that we have something to propose to you,
and wonder if you'd stop by the offices.
Bob'd love to talk to you.
HEATHER
Uh...sure...when?
SARA (FILTER)
No time like the present. The car will
bring you.
HEATHER
Now?
SARA (FILTER)
Just take a minute. You'll be glad you
did, I bet.
EXT. INTERNATIONAL OFFICES OF NEW LINE CINEMA - DAY
Heather exits the limo and starts in to a MODERN OFFICE
BUILDING with a SIGN reading NEW LINE CINEMA.
INT. OUTER OFFICE - NEW LINE CINEMA - DAY
A sprawling space with a maze of buff-colored file cases
defining dozens of work spaces populated by smart-looking
twenty-something people. Heather stops at the machined-steel
front desk. A RECEPTIONIST with dark purple lipstick and Doc
Martins peers up.
RECEPTIONIST
Help you?
HEATHER
I'm here to see Bob Shaye.
The receptionist checks her out causally.
RECEPTIONIST
Was Bob expecting you?
VOICE (O.S.)
Heather!
Heather turns as SARA RISHER crosses to give her a maternal
hug.
SARA
Bob's dying to see you.
WIDER. MOVING WITH THEM as Sara leads Heather farther back
into the place grabbing a young man by the elbow.
SARA (cont'd)
Heather this is Mike De Luca. Mike,
Heather Langenkamp, our little Nancy's
come back home!
MIKE DE LUCA
Hey, I'm a fan! Great meeting you.
He ducks into someone else's office, giving a hi-five and
closing the door. Sara smiles at Heather.
SARA
Can I get you something to drink?
HEATHER
Coffee'd be nice.
SARA
(to the nearest)
Sounds good. Kim, would you get Heather
and me a coffee? How you like it, Hon?
HEATHER
Black's fine.
SARA
Me too.
They've reached a huge stainless steel door. Sara raps twice
and pushes it open, gesturing Heather inside.
INT. BOB SHAYE'S OFFICE - DAY
Heather finds herself in a bright post-industrial workspace.
There's an unadorned desk and behind, a Warhol of Freddy
times four. Double doors are thrown open to the terrace, and
out there, cordless telephone pressed to his ear, is BOB
SHAYE. He gives a wave and starts inside.
BOB
(into phone)
Gotta go. Call me when you get to Milan.
And don't forget risotto con tarfutti.
Fantastico! Have fun.
He tosses it down and gives Heather a two-handed shake.
BOB (cont'd)
Great seeing you, Heather - how're
things?
HEATHER
Fine. I don't have to ask how you're
doing.
He shrugs, admitting.
BOB
So far so good. Maybe we can send a
little your way, too, if you're up for
it.
He gestures to an area of Italian leather and gleaming glass
and sits as the assistant brings coffee. There are two cups,
and he immediately drinks from one, watching her gulp hers,
then
BOB (cont'd)
I'll cut to the chase, Heather. You
interested in making the definitive
Nightmare with us?
Heather lowers her cup, taken off-guard.
HEATHER
I thought you'd killed Freddy off.
BOB
We did. Bad mistake. The fans are
clamoring for more. So, Evil never dies,
right?
(grins shakily)
Anyway, a while back we got a call from
Wes. He's got this idea. And who better
to resurrect Freddy than his creator?
HEATHER
I thought he'd stopped doing horror.
BOB
Believe it or not, he told me I hadn't
heard from him in ten years because he
hasn't had any good nightmare. They're
his inspiration. But now he's got a new
script in the works.
She notes Bob biting his thumbnail.
HEATHER
Which means he's having nightmares again?
BOB
He's very excited about it.
HEATHER
The nightmares.
BOB
He's excited about the script. You
should be too. It stars you.
HEATHER
(reacts)
Can I read it?
BOB
He's not showing it until it's down. But
it sounds hot, and we wanted to get all
our stars lined up in case it is. You
and Robert got great ratings today.
Which is the first thing we needed to
know.
HEATHER
You mean that was a...
BOB
Sort of a trial balloon.
Heather blinks.
HEATHER
I don't know, Bob. I'm flattered and
all, but I've got a kid, now.
BOB
So?
HEATHER
So I don't know about horror.
BOB
Come on. Kids love horror.
HEATHER
And I...I've got other things happening.
BOB
I'm sure we can match any offer.
She stands.
HEATHER
It's not that. I've got a fan.
He gets up too.
BOB
Sweetie, you've got lots of fans, we've
done market studies. You rate right up
there.
(puts arm around her, guides
her to door)
We've already got Chase working on a
prototype for the glove.
HEATHER
What?
BOB
I know. We asked him to keep it kind of
surprise until we talked. Look, how
about we get in touch your agent. You
still with Jerry?
HEATHER
Yes, but...
BOB
We'll work something out. I'm sure
you'll be happy with it.
Heather turns in the door.
HEATHER
Bob, how long has Wes been working on
this script?
BOB
I don't know. A couple months. Why?
HEATHER
And since you've been thinking of making
it. Has anything funny happened?
BOB
I don't follow.
HEATHER
Like weird calls, by any chance?
His phone RINGS behind him. He makes no move to pick it up.
The phone RINGS again.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Or nightmares?
The phone rings again.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Why don't you pick up your phone, Bob?
Shaye shrugs.
BOB
That's what people get paid for around
here.
An assistant picks up the phone. Straightens.
KIM
It's Ted in New York. He wants to know
how the glove is coming.
Bob gives a nervous laugh.
BOB
Gotta take that. Keep in touch.
Heather nods, and says quietly.
HEATHER
You too, Bob.
She turns and starts to go. Then stops.
IN HER POV
for the first time she notices everyone in the outer office
has a cup of steaming coffee on his or her desk.
HEATHER
gets the hell out of there.
EXT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - DAY
The limo pulls up and stops. The driver opens the door and
Heather exits and walks to the house. Halfway there she
starts to hear the SCREAMS.
INT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - DAY
Heather bursts in and stops cold. From Dylan's room comes
terrible SCREAMING.
INT. DYLAN'S ROOM - DAY
Heather runs in and finds Julie by the bed with Dylan. The
boy convulsing and screaming with terrifying intensity. She
rushes over and holds him, terrified. Strange and alien
words are spilling from his mouth. A language ripped from
another world not connected with our reality at all. Until
suddenly it's English, and he says in a clear and
terrifyingly deep voice
DYLAN
Never sleep again, never sleep again!
Then he starts sobbing as if his heart will break. Heather
looks at Julie in shock.
HEATHER
What's going on? Was he watching the
movie on TV again?
Julie blinks.
JULIE
Movie? He hasn't been watching any TV at
all. He was taking his nap when I heard
screaming.
Julie stops, shaken herself. Heather looks at the child.
Dylan turns, catches her eye with his own, and says through
his tears.
DYLAN
Rex saved me.
HEATHER
Rex? Who's Rex?
Dylan pulls a stuffed dinosaur out from beneath the covers,
and gives it to Heather. And it nearly falls apart in her
hands, its body torn by four deep cuts, its stuffing pouring
out.
Heather looks at Dylan.
DYLAN
Is Rex gonna die?
Heather shakes her head.
HEATHER
No, Rex is not going to die.
(to Julie)
Julie, you know where the sewing stuff
is, don't you?
JULIE
Sure.
(Dylan)
We'll do an operation, Doctor Dylan and
Doctor Julie. We'll fix him good as new.
Julie takes the thing, grabs Dylan and heads to the kitchen.
Heather glances back at Dylan's bed.
INT. KITCHEN
Heather in hushed conversation with Chase. B.G. Julie sews
on Rex, accompanied by a worried Dylan. Then Chase's voice:
CHASE
Heather?
HEATHER
Chase. Hi...
INT. CHASE'S SPFX TRAILER - DAY
Chase, on a cellular, is in the back of his SPFX trailer
working on frothing up a tub of soap suds. B.G., set aside
in mid-construction, is something shiny and sharp. Something
we instantly recognize as FREDDY'S NEW GLOVE.
CHASE
(yawning)
What's up?
HEATHER (FILTER)
Chase, you'd better come home.
CHASE
Heather, I'm stuck here. Neither Chuck
or Terry came in today. I can't get
away!
HEATHER (FILTER)
Chase, it's Dylan!
He stands, forgetting his emergency, holding his breath.
CHASE
What?
BACK TO KITCHEN
Heather nearly crying.
HEATHER
He's had some sort of...episode.
CHASE (FILTER)
What? What kind of episode?
HEATHER
He was just acting very strange. He
thinks somebody's after him, Chase. It's
scary, it scared me. He was acting
like...
CHASE (FILTER)
Like what?
HEATHER
(hardly able to say it)
Like Freddy.
CHASE (FILTER)
(beat)
Heather, has there been another call?
Heather just closes her eyes, fear suppressing an answer.
Demanding another question instead.
HEATHER
Chase. Why didn't Chuck or Terry show
up?
CHASE (FILTER)
Forget those two clowns, Heather. Answer
me, did you get another call from that
guy or not?
Heather bites her lip and nods.
HEATHER
Yes.
CHASE (FILTER)
(instantly)
I'll be there in three hours.
HEATHER
Don't speed, Chase. It's not...
He's already hung up.
CUTTING TO CHASE
jumping off the tailgate and running for his pickup. CAMERA
HOLDS ON HIM A BEAT, THEN MOVES UP AND INTO THE BACK OF THE
TRUCK AGAIN.
And the place on the workbench where the glove was is now
empty.
EXT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Storybook peaceful.
INT. DYLAN'S ROOM - NIGHT
Heather sits next to the bed, one elbow on the quilt, reading
from the age-old fable of Hansel and Gretel. Dylan's
scrunched under the blankets, only his head visible. Calm as
you please. The sole light comes from the child's bedside
lamp.
HEATHER
"...as soon as the sun was up the witch
made Gretel fetch the wood and kindle a
fire. 'We will bake cookies first,' she
said. 'I have heated the oven and
kneaded the dough. Crawl in and see if
the fire is blazing high enough now.'
And she pushed Gretel toward the oven.
The witch meant to shut the door and bake
her once she was inside."
(makes face)
Dylan, this is too violent. I don't know
why you like these stupid old tales.
DYLAN
Finish, please!
HEATHER
This is going to give you nightmares.
DYLAN
I like this story.
Heather sighs. Picks the book back up.
HEATHER
"But Gretel guessed what the witch was
planning. 'I don't know how to get in,'
Gretel said. 'How am I to manage it?'
'Stupid girl!' shouted the witch,
rushing up to the oven. 'The opening is
big enough. See, I can fit myself.'
Then quickly Gretel came behind and
pushed with all her might. Plunging the
wicked old woman headlong into the
flames, banging the door shut and bolting
it tight. The witch howled..."
(shakes her head)
That's enough.
Dylan stares off into the night.
DYLAN
"The witch howled like a scalded cat, but
Gretel ran away and left her there to
perish nonetheless."
Heather looks at Dylan in surprise, then at the page.
EXACTLY as Dylan said, the words are there. He turns and
says the rest straight to her, eyes glittering, almost
entranced.
DYLAN (cont'd)
"She ran to her brother as fast as she
could and flung open the door. 'Hansel!
Hansel!' she cried. 'We are saved. The
witch is dead!'"
His face is lit with a fierce radiance. Heather licks her
lips.
HEATHER
Time for sleep.
DYLAN
Say how they find their way back home.
She turns out the light.
HEATHER
Tomorrow night.
DYLAN
No. Tonight. It's important!
Heather looks at him in the moonlight. Wide awake, tugging
at her sleeve. She has to laugh.
HEATHER
Dylan, you know as well as I do, they
follow the trail of bread crumbs back to
their house.
Dylan sinks back with a smile.
DYLAN
"Then their father covered them with
kisses and they were safe."
HEATHER
They were safe and could sleep.
She tucks him in. Then notices something. A bump under the
covers, down by Dylan's feet. She pats it, curious.
DYLAN
Rex.
He picks a flashlight off his night stand, pokes his head
under the comforter and motions for her to follow. She smiles
curiously and sticks her head under too.
UNDER THE COMFORTER, a colorful tent. Dylan aiming the beam
towards the bottom of the bed and the large stuffed T-Rex
there. Snarling in the center of the sheet, its back turned
to them. It's been sewn together again, but the body looks
much worse for the wear.
DYLAN (cont'd)
Rex keeps him from coming up.
HEATHER
Who?
DYLAN
The mean old man with the claws.
He points past the creature to the bottom edge of the 'tent'.
DYLAN (cont'd)
(matter-of-factly)
He wants to come up from down there.
While we sleep. I keep my feet up
here...
(indicates 'safe' area)
Rex keeps him down there. He's my guard.
(looks at her solemnly)
You should have a guard, too.
Heather inexplicably feels light-headed.
HEATHER
Dylan, there's nothing down there.
Look...
She reaches past the dinosaur and lifts the blankets,
exposing the bottom edge of the bed and the floor beyond.
HEATHER (cont'd)
See?
Dylan stares at it a long moment, then shrugs.
DYLAN
It's different when you're gone.
OUTSIDE THE BLANKETS AGAIN
Heather tucks him in, turns off his night light.
DYLAN (cont'd)
On, please?
HEATHER
(turns it back on)
Okay, sweetie, night, night, sleep tight.
DYLAN
(with her)
Don't let the bedbugs bite.
She kisses him gently and leaves the room. But not before
his voice catches her in the doorway.
DYLAN (cont'd)
Daddy coming home?
HEATHER
He's on his way.
DYLAN
He can follow the breadcrumbs, right?
HEATHER
Right.
She leaves, closing the door, and Dylan says quietly to the
night.
DYLAN
It the birds don't eat them first.
EXT. CHASE'S PICKUP - NIGHT
As it roars down a highway cutting through a bleak desert
moonscape.
INT. CHASE'S PICKUP - NIGHT
Chase, face marked by concern and fatigue, picks up his
mobile phone and dials. Gets nothing but STATIC. Swears and
tosses it down. Squints his eyes against oncoming brights
and shakes his head, suppressing a yawn.
HIS POV
the road. White lines strobing hypnotically.
CLOSER ON HIS FACE
eyes bloodshot and drooping.
WIDER
he shakes his head again. Turns on the radio. STATIC.
Pushes SEARCH. One HORRIBLE BLAST OF STATIC after ANOTHER.
Then a distant station.
NEWSCASTER (FILTER)
...tectonic nightmare...fault line
hitherto unknown seems to be spread
(STATIC) so extensive that (STATIC)...
RADIO
Chases hand punches it off.
SILENCE. Just the PLOC, PLOC of rubber over expansion
joints.
CHASE'S EYES
drooping further.
EXT. ROAD AND PICKUP'S WHEELS - CONTINUOUS
LOW ON THE TIRES. Oh so gradually crossing the flash of
white line. OMINOUS MUSIC creeps in.
INT. CHASE'S PICKUP - NIGHT
CHASE
snapping awake again, shaking his head. The MUSIC disappears.
CLOSE ON HIS HAND
scratching his leg, rubbing sore muscles.
REFOCUS TO SEAT BETWEEN HIS LEGS.
Music sneaks back, and with a barely audible RIP, something
shiny and sharp pokes up through the fabric. Then another
and another, bright spikes of steel. At first just tips,
then longer and longer. Until four long claws are thrusting
up. Straining to break out of the fabric.
ON CHASE'S FACE
singing somberly to himself to stay awake.
CHASE
This is meeee, losing myyyy religion.
Look at meee, losing myyyy...
Reaches down.
HIS HAND
enters FRAME AT CROTCH LEVEL. Rearranging things with a
quick adjustment, and the claws weave just out of the way
until the hand is gone.
CHASE (cont'd) (O.S.)
Religion...
CU CHASE
taking deep breaths. Rubbing his face. Then noticing
there's a torn piece of upholstery clinging to one finger.
He tosses it away. Stares blearily back to the road.
And as he slides deeper and deeper towards sleep. The clawed
steel hand from Heather's opening nightmare RISES INTO FRAME.
Just beneath his chin now. By his jugular.
Until Chase falls asleep. His eyes closing for good. Head
falling forward on a slack neck.
Instantly the claws strike upwards, hard and jerk down
through his body. His shirt flies open. The claw buries
itself into his crotch as CHASE'S DEAFENING SHRIEK CARRIES
OVER INTO
INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Heather wakes up screaming! MUSIC VANISHES. Heather bolts
upright on the couch. Staring around. Seeing
DYLAN
watching her solemnly from the doorway near his room.
DYLAN
Mommy scared?
Heather's still half asleep and disoriented. Tries to put
calm into her voice.
HEATHER
Mommy's fine, Dylan. Just had a bad
dream. What're you doing out of bed?
DYLAN
Rex woke me up. He was fighting.
Before she can respond, the DOORBELL rings. Heather shrugs
off the last of the dream. Stares at the door. Who the hell
at this hour?
HEATHER
Dylan, you go back to sleep now.
DYLAN
Not sleepy.
She looks through the peep hole. Reacts. Turns to Dylan,
her voice suddenly flat.
HEATHER
Dylan, go back to bed. I mean it.
Dylan looks at her a moment longer, then obediently goes into
his room. By now Heather's shaking so hard she can hardly
work the bolt on the front door.
When she opens it to face TWO HIGHWAY PATROL OFFICERS.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #1
Heather Langenkamp?
HEATHER
Yes?
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #1
Is Chase Porter your husband?
HEATHER
Yes.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #1
I'm afraid there was an accident. It
appears he fell asleep while driving,
ma'am.
She reaches out, steadies herself with a hand to a wall. For
the first time she notices the patrol car parked in her
drive.
HEATHER
Is he...I mean, was he hurt?
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #2
I'm afraid it's worse than that, ma'am.
Heather weaves in the night air. Her voice hardly
perceptible.
HEATHER
Is he dead?
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #2
Yes ma'am.
HEATHER
Are you sure it's him? I...
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #2
We have his effects, you can confirm from
that.
He hands over a clear plastic bag with a wallet, watch and
some money. Heather doesn't even take them.
HEATHER
I want to see the body.
HIGHWAY PATROLMAN #1
No, you don't, ma'am, it's not necessary.
HEATHER
I want to see for myself.
And the way she says it rules out any possibility that she
will not do exactly that.
INT. LA COUNTY MORGUE/BASEMENT CORRIDOR
HEATHER
her feet echo on the cold marble walking down a hall lined
with gurneys holding bodies under sheets. From O.S.
one direction can be heard the distant sound of a WOMAN's
single, gut-deep WAIL. Then from the other, male laughter,
chat and the SOUND of an ELECTRIC TOOL whizzing away at
something.
INT. MORGUE - NIGHT
Heather ENTERS. At the rear of this very large room two MEN
are eating lunch out of paper bags. A THIRD is working at a
body, lifting something dark and wet onto a scale.
THIRD MAN
Help you?
HEATHER
Porter. Chase Porter.
He peers at her, a bloody rubber glove poised mid-air.
THIRD MAN
That a new one?
One of the men eating lunch points.
LUNCH EATER
Over there, third from the sink.
Heather goes over, CAMERA MOVING WITH HER HAND-HELD. The
lunch-eater follows with her, wiping his hands on his apron,
checking the toe tag. A thing very much like a pale blue
credit card.
LUNCH EATER (cont'd)
You say Chase?
Heather just nods, her heart in her throat. The man's voice
is surprisingly compassionate.
LUNCH EATER (cont'd)
Sorry.
He lifts the sheet carefully, just offering a peak at the
face. Heather forces herself to look.
It's Chase, and something about the sweet sleep-like quality
to his face hits Heather harder than the bloodless pallor, or
the slightly broken-egg misshaping of his head.
The man lowers the sheet and fetches a clipboard hanging at
the foot of the stainless steel table.
LUNCH EATER (cont'd)
Just sign at the bottom, that's all we
need.
But Heather is just staring at the sheet, head ever so
slightly tilted, as if there's one thing she saw under there
she's not yet quite through with.
HEATHER
Let me see once more.
LUNCH EATER
I'm sorry.
HEATHER
Lift the sheet again.
He looks, sees she's serious, and lifts it.
HEATHER (cont'd)
More.
He lifts it a little more. Still it's only down to Chase's
chin. But it's enough, and in a deadly still voice Heather
asks...
HEATHER (cont'd)
What's that?
She's pointing to a flap of whitish skin beneath Chase's
chin.
LUNCH EATER
Uh, well, this was a bad wreck, ma'am.
I mean, his head's gonna be okay for the
funeral and all, but...
Heather reaches out suddenly and pulls the sheet back much
farther. For one horrendous instant we glimpse a torso sewn
back together with rough mortician's stitches along four
deep, savage slashes.
The lunch eater pulls the sheet back over Chase as Heather
spins and vomits.
LUNCH EATER (cont'd)
Oh, now, there. You okay, lady?
He offers her a piece of white muslin to wipe her mouth. She
does so with shaking hands, then asks with a shaken,
terrified whisper.
HEATHER
What did that?
The man blinks a moment.
LUNCH EATER
Ma'am, it was head-on. I heard the truck
was torn up something awful. You can
imagine how he'd, well, not be exactly in
top shape.
Heather, still crouched, looks back at the gurney looming
above her.
HEATHER
It looks like...he was clawed.
LUNCH EATER
Yeah, well, that's why we don't lift the
sheet past the face, ma'am. Sometimes
what you don't see is what gets you
through the night.
EXT. CEMETERY - DAY
Surrounded by her friends, Heather buries her husband. There
are several recognizable faces here in addition to Bob and
Sara, especially to Elm Street fans - Robert Englund, JOHNNY
DEPP, WES CRAVEN, JOHN SAXON among others. There is no media
or fans - the funeral has been kept from the press.
Heather stands apart from the rest, holding Dylan's hand. On
his other side is Julie, touching his shoulder. Only a
slight twitching of the boy's hand betrays emotion as he
solemnly watches the casket lowered. As it disappears
beneath the brink, a sudden WIND moves through the trees.
A moment later a SHARP JOLT ROLLS THROUGH THE PLACE.
Instantly there are cries of EARTHQUAKE! and the SHOCK
CONTINUES - THE GROUND HEAVING - and the men winching the
coffin fall backwards. Several grave stones and monuments
tumble. The coffin itself tilts wickedly, then falls end-
first into the pit, hitting with a sickening crack. Heather
lurches forward instinctively. Loses balance. Falls and
hits hard, head against the framework over the grave.
Mass confusion for the rest of the people, ducking, stumbling
over gravestones, generally grabbing for something solid.
Then that eerie still again. Just DOGS and CAR ALARMS.
Heather shakes herself, twists round looking for Dylan. Sees
he's not with Julie. Hisses desperately at the girl.
HEATHER
Julie. Where's Dylan?!
Julie looks around, dazed. Everyone nearby looks for the
child. And for god knows what reason, Heather checks the
grave and reacts in horror.
HER POV
In the merest fraction of a second we see the coffin has
split open. The lid ajar. And incredibly, the leering face
of someone who looks a lot like FREDDY KRUEGER - darker, even
harder, but definitely in that mode, ducks back deeper into
the dark of the coffin after a split second of eye-contact
with Heather. And he's dragging Dylan after him!
Without hesitation Heather jumps into the pit. Amid gasps of
astonishment from the dazed onlookers, even as Dylan
disappears into the coffin with a terrible yank!
IN THE PIT WITH HEATER
wrenching back the coffin lid, seeing Dylan about to vanish
down the dark slot at the foot of the coffin. Just like the
danger area beneath the blankets!
INSIDE THE COFFIN
Heather diving under the winding sheets and grabbing Dylan's
hand. Hauling back. For the briefest instant she glimpses
the long arm of Freddy's red and green-striped sweater. The
wicked glove and blades. All snaking down out of sight into
darkness. As his mocking laughter echoes over her, Heather
hauls up with all her might. Pulling the child back and over
the bloody remains of her husband. Dylan screaming in
fright! And at the sight of Chase's face, his dead eyes
staring in horror into her own. Heather passes out!
CLOSE ON HER FACE
rolling to the side. And now gentler HANDS are touching her.
Trying to rouse her.
PULL BACK TO REVEAL
Heather on the ground at the graveside. Robert Englund, Wes
Craven and John Saxon hovering over her in concern. She
looks around in panic.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Dylan!?
JOHN SAXON
He's right here. It's okay!
Saxon points. Heather turns, sees Dylan watching down at her
with that intense, eerie look. Held by the frightened Julie.
A terrible dizziness sweeps over Heather.
HEATHER
What...happened?
JOHN SAXON
Quake knocked you off your feet. You got
bumped pretty good, actually.
(dabs blood from her forehead)
Heather turns and sees men already have the coffin back
level. The lid is not open - the coffin isn't split.
WIDER NOW
Sirens and a faint hubbub from the surrounding city. Those
gathered are clearly shaken, and the MINISTER raises his
hands as a subtle but ominous AFTERSHOCK rolls by.
MINISTER
May he rest in peace, children. And my
you all get home safely!
Immediately several head for their cars.
CLOSER ON HEATHER
shivering. She stands, turns to go and bumps right into
Robert Englund. She gives a start. He puts his hand on her
shoulder. And moving in CLOSER, we can just hear him murmur.
ROBERT ENGLUND
If there's anything I can do, Heater.
Anything...
And he moves off, pulling a wide-brimmed, not-quite Freddy
hat over his head. Heather watches him go as John Saxon puts
a big arm around her. Behind, Wes Craven looks up at the
sky. It's getting late in the day and the wind is picking
up.
EXT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The cottage huddled against strong Santa Ana's. A
streetlight nearby throws eerie shadows on the roof.
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM
Heather lies in bed wide awake, listening to the wind howl.
She pulls the blankets closer and tries to close her eyes.
Then she becomes aware of another sound, this one from
downstairs. A MUFFLED SING-SONG, and a PAD OF SMALL FEET.
HEATHER
stands, listening. Grabs a robe and rushes down to
INT. DEN - NIGHT
Heather peeks around the corner of the stairwell, and to her
dismay sees Dylan circling in the den, eyes closed, mouth
slurring something.
Sleepwalking.
Heather crosses, not knowing whether to wake him or not. He
hovers by the TV for a moment. It's also on, this one
running silent images of
TV
Heather as NANCY in the boiler room for the first time (again
from NIGHTMARE I) seeing Freddy step out from behind the
furnace, backlit, dark, clawed.
CLOSE ON HEATHER
reacting. Scared now.
Dylan, still asleep, veers away blindly, bumps into the
coffee table, then heads for the kitchen.
Heather's had enough. She catches up with him. Softly
encircles him in her arms.
CLOSER ON THE TWO
as she shakes him gently.
HEATHER
Dylan. Sweetie. Wake up, baby...
Awakening, Dylan's eyes snap wide in fear. His mouth gapes
open in a startled cry and he flails out of her arms onto the
floor. Heather desperately trying to gather him back up...
And then he seems to recognize her, and falls still. Only
his labored breathing breaks the stunned silence, his eyes
staring wide at Heather.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Dylan, baby, we're gonna get you back to
bed now.
The child shakes his head violently, tears springing.
DYLAN
I can't sleep there, Mommy. Please!
HEATHER
You've got to sleep, Dylan, you...
She never finishes the sentence because Dylan suddenly sings
a thin, plaintive voice
DYLAN
One two, Freddy's coming for you...
Heather, feeling her head swim through an unexpected wash of
vertigo, can barely find her voice.
HEATHER
Dylan, did you hear that in that move?
Dylan looks at her, confused.
DYLAN
What movie?
Heather looks at the TV. There's nothing there. The set is
off. And not only that, it's still unplugged from that
morning. She looks back at the child.
HEATHER
Then...where did you hear that song? Did
you answer the phone?
Dylan shakes his head.
DYLAN
In my bed.
HEATHER
Your bed?
DYLAN
Under my covers.
(off her look)
Kids singing, and way down there, the
man...the mean man...
And he makes the sign of the claw.
HEATHER
And...what's the man doing?
DYLAN
Trying to get up...trying to get into our
world.
Then Dylan stops, startled by the warm run of liquid over his
upper lip. His nose has started to coarse dark, red blood.
HEATHER
Oh, shit. Dylan.
He touches his hand to it, stares at the bright surprise,
then Heather snatches him up. Rushes him into the bathroom.
FRAMED IN THAT DISTANT DOORWAY she daubs his face, soothes
his silent tears.
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Heather, back in bed and listening to the wind HOWL. Dylan
is curled against her side. Peaceful as a baby now. Breath
deep and regular. But if Heather thinks he's asleep, she's
wrong.
DYLAN
Where's Daddy now?
Heather gives a start. Looks down. Dylan's looking up at
her, waiting for the answer.
HEATHER
Daddy's...in Heaven, Dylan. He's with
God now.
Dylan thinks a moment.
DYLAN
Do you have to die to see God?
HEATHER
No, I don't think so. You just have
to...pray, or reach...
He curls against her, tighter.
DYLAN
Why does God let there be bad things?
HEATHER
I honestly don't know. Try to sleep,
baby.
DYLAN
Can you come with me in my dreams?
Heather pulls the cover over him farther.
HEATHER
I think that only happens in movies. But
I'll always be here when you get back.
(looks under covers)
And I'll make sure nobody grabs your
toes, either.
She tickles his toes. He lets out a giggle and closes his
eyes. Heather does not close hers. In fact, she reaches
over and finds a still steaming cup of coffee stashed on her
bedside table and takes a long gulp.
UNDER THE COVERS
we see Dylan's HAND reach down and touch REX. He turns the
snarling beast to face the darkness at the bottom of the bed.
EXT. PLAYGROUND - DAY
Sun a warm yellow, CHILDREN playing under the watchful eyes
of MOTHERS. Nearby, Dylan runs a stick around the palings of
a playground rocket, somber and tentative.
PAN TO FIND HEATHER AND JOHN SAXON. The man in immaculate
sweats, tan and fit. A reassuring presence if ever there was
one, listening intently as Heather speaks.
HEATHER
I know what he's doing is bizarre, but
most of the time he seems so normal, so
well adjusted. I just can't believe it's
him. I mean, and not something outside,
influencing him.
(scared)
Or is that how denial works?
JOHN SAXON
When it is denial. I don't think that's
the case here, but if you're really
worried, have a doctor check him out.
You'll see, everything's fine.
Heather looks back at him.
HEATHER
You're not just saying that to help a
crazy friend cope, are you?
Saxon shakes his head.
JOHN SAXON
All of Dylan's behavior is understandable
for a kid dealing with a parent's death.
How can a child process such a thing?
Heather shakes her head, saying low.
HEATHER
Don't know. Haven't been able to process
it very well myself.
Saxon looks at her.
JOHN SAXON
You're not crazy, by the way.
HEATHER
Thinking I saw Freddy in the grave feels
pretty crazy. And jumping in...
JOHN SAXON
You didn't jump in.
HEATHER
That's my memory. And it seemed
absolutely real.
JOHN SAXON
Seemed, not was.
HEATHER
(looks off, lower)
It's in my family, you know. My
grandmother died in an institution...
JOHN SAXON
Really?
(unfazed)
Hell, if having a screwy family made you
crazy, the world'd be one colossal
nuthouse.
She looks at him, well? He laughs and she does, too.
JOHN SAXON (cont'd)
Look, you've got a crazed fan after you.
That's what's making you crazy, and
probably Dylan, too.
HEATHER
I've never mentioned it to him.
JOHN SAXON
Kids know when something's bugging a
parent.
(focusing on it)
You've got no idea who this is calling?
She turns and watches Dylan.
HEATHER
Freddy, for all I know.
JOHN SAXON
Steady...
Heather tries to smile.
HEATHER
A man, or a boy with a deep, y'know,
Freddy voice.
JOHN SAXON
Six weeks of this, and you're surprised
you've got Freddy in your dreams? Hell,
Sonny Bono says after a while he was
seeing his stalker everywhere. Even at
Mass.
HEATHER
Really?
JOHN SAXON
Absolutely. And how many times has
Letterman called the cops thinking that
woman was down in his kitchen again? It
gets under your skin if you let it.
HEATHER
You really think Dylan's okay?
Saxon gives her a paternal look.
JOHN SAXON
Dylan's fine. You're fine. Hurting, but
fine. Definitely not crazy.
CUT TO THE PLAYGROUND ROCKET
a tall structure standing over 25 feet high. Dylan has
unexpectedly made his way all the way to its top level, and
has squeezed out through a broken guard band. Right now he's
climbing up the outside of the rocket towards its nose cone!
BACK ON HEATHER
not seeing any of this.
HEATHER
It's my worst fear, that whatever my
mother had, I'll have. And I'll pass it
along to...
Heather shakes her head and smiles, then looks up and gives a
start, seeing
DYLAN
who's climbed to the pinnacle of the rocket and is standing
fully upright on its nose cone, way the hell up there, arms
stretched to the heavens!
Heather stands, afraid to move. And now several other
parents, even kids are seeing him, pointing, as
ANGLE PAST DYLAN
stretches up impossibly far, fingers straining. Heather far
below, leaping off the bench and starting to run!
UP ANGLE TO DYLAN
as he stretches even harder, and then with a cry loses his
balance and falls.
HEATHER
running at top speed.
DYLAN
falling through space.
HEATHER
barely making it to him. The boy and her meeting with a bone-
jarring impact. Heather driven to the sand hard, with Dylan
atop her!
By the time Saxon gets to them, Heather's finding out that
though she's dazed and bruised, amazingly, Dylan is not only
okay, but serenely unconcerned with his close call. He
simply looks up at her and says solemnly.
DYLAN
God wouldn't take me.
EXT. HEATHER'S HOUSE - DAY
Peaceful, sun-drenched. Never know anything was going wrong.
Heather, limping noticeably, fetches her mail.
INT. DEN - DAY
Heather wipes the sweat off her face with her T-shirt and
shuffles through the pile. There's a newspaper with
headlines of the earthquake, the usual load of junk mail -
and then something that stops her cold.
CLOSER
as she singles out one letter in particular. Grimy, no
address, smeared with soot. She opens it with shaking
fingers. We see a sheet of filthy paper holding a single cut-
out "E" pasted on its center.
HEATHER
stuffs the letter in a drawer,and as she does we glimpse
dozens of other filthy ENVELOPES.
Heather crosses to the phone and dials.
VOICE #2 (FILTER)
Hello?
HEATHER
Robert?
INTERCUTTING WITH:
INT. ROBERT ENGLUND'S HOUSE/STUDIO - DAY
TIGHT ON ENGLUND, intense, quick, stalking back from the
cordless phone's base through the living room of a large,
Mediterranean mansion. He talks as he walks, soon ending
back where he evidently was when the call came, in a sun-room
off the larger room, which features a large easel. Clearly
an avid amateur painter, he's surrounded here by jars of
brushes, rags and palettes. The large canvas he's working on
is seen only from behind.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Heather? You doing okay?
HEATHER
Holding my own. You know that guy who
was calling me all the time? He's
started again. He's been putting stuff
in my mail.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Must've read about the funeral. Sick
mother. That's the last thing you need
right now, I'm sure.
HEATHER
(almost embarrassed)
It's actually been giving me Freddy
nightmares.
Line noise for a second, then...
ROBERT ENGLUND
Freddy as in me?
Heather shakes her head.
HEATHER
It isn't you. He's scarier. He's...
(searching for words)
Robert puts down his brush, takes the portable phone to the
window and looks out as if he could see her.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Darker. More...evil?
HEATHER
Yeah...how'd you know?
ROBERT ENGLUND
Call it a guess...
He starts painting again, as if he saw something in the
canvas he had to capture instantly or it would vanish. His
face twists and flinches with the effort; we get the feeling
this is no mere hobby at all. But we still don't see the
picture.
HEATHER
Anyway, what I was calling about
was...have you seen any of the script, by
any chance?
ROBERT ENGLUND
Wes won't show it until it's finished.
That's what he told me, at least. I
asked him at the funeral.
HEATHER
When do you think it'll be done?
ROBERT ENGLUND
The way he's writing is so weird, who
knows? I asked him how far he'd gotten
at the funeral, and what was it he
said...? Oh yeah, as far as Dylan trying
to reach God. Weird, huh, that he'd have
your kid in it?
Heather can't find her breath for a moment. Fighting a
perception of fear so stifling it's like a pillow pressed to
her face. She barely manages.
HEATHER
Robert? Have you been having any
nightmares?
Just the line noise.
ON ROBERT
painting, the phone held away from his head as if it contains
something he doesn't want to acknowledge.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Robert, I think we should talk. And not
over the phone. Could I come over?
He shakes his head.
ROBERT ENGLUND
Uh, actually today's not good. There's
something I've got to finish. How's
tomorrow?
BACK NOW WITH HEATHER
pale, turning to look at Dylan's door.
HEATHER
Tomorrow, then. First thing in the
morning. Meanwhile take care, Robert,
okay?
She hangs up.
ROBERT
hangs up, too, just staring at the painting. As if it held
his salvation or his doom.
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Heather, deep in sleep, tossing as if her bed were floating
on a stormy sea. In fact, this time very, very subtly,
another EARTHQUAKE has begun rocking the house. Lamps sway,
the whole bed rises and falls, as we
MOVE IN ON HEATHER
INT. DEN - NIGHT
CAMERA AT CARPET LEVEL as two little FEET pad INTO FRAME.
MOVE WITH THEM, TILTING UP the cowboy PJ's TO DYLAN'S FACE.
Ghostlike in the moonlight. Eyes vacant, moving through the
living room as in a dream.
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Heather gasps out something in her sleep, the tone deeply
distressed. PAN OFF HER, ACROSS THE SHEET FLUNG OVER HER, TO
THE FOOT OF THE BED. There's movement there. The sheet
rising at four salients. Pressed up from beneath. Then the
glint of steel pokes through with a subtle rip-rip-rip, the
claws of finely-honed steel rise into moonlight. Moving.
PAST HEATHER'S FACE TO THE CLAWS cleanly parting the sheet as
they pull their way closer to her. The only sound a soft
RRRIIIIIPPPPP.
THEY STOP IN CU and with practiced SNICK cut the tatters
between them, leaving only a single hole. Then the lethal
steel hand rises fully into sight.
Then there's a CRASH from downstairs, as if a silverware
drawer were dumped on a tile floor.
Heather JOLTS as if prodded with an electric wire, twists
around and stares wide-eyed at
NOTHING. OUR WIDE ANGLE FROM DIRECTLY ABOVE SHOWS twisted
blankets, nothing more.
Chilled, Heather pulls the sheet around her. Then pulls it
back open. Realizes it's cut into ribbons along its entire
length.
She jumps out of bed, breath caught in her throat. Then
there's a METALLIC SCRRRIIIIITCH from the kitchen.
DYLAN (O.S.)
(distant)
One two, Freddy's coming for you. Three
four, better lock your door...
INT. STAIRWELL/DEN/KITCHEN - NIGHT
Heather appears at the foot of the stairs, heart in her
throat. Twenty feet away, advancing slowly from the kitchen,
Dylan is chanting the old refrain
DYLAN
Five six, grab your crucifix...
Heather starts for him.
REVERSE ANGLE PAST DYLAN TO HEATHER, and from this vantage
point, we can see the cluster of steak knives he's taped to
his fingers, making a serious-looking claw, hidden behind his
back. Heather shakes her head, almost to him.
HEATHER
Sweetie, don't sing that...
She reaches for him, and he strikes like lightning, slashing,
barely missing. Advances again, breath coming in little
asthmatic rasps. Heather backs away.
DYLAN
Seven eight, better stay up late!
She bangs up against a wall, he's too near for her to dodge
away. They grapple, the boy suddenly with the strength of a
feral animal. He raises the blades, hissing at her
DYLAN (cont'd)
Nine ten!
Heather lurches backwards as he strikes, and
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - DAWN
CRASH! she falls out of bed, now truly awake.
DYLAN (O.S.)
Never sleep again.
Pad, pad, pad.
INT. DEN - DAWN
Heather enters, limping. Looks. Sees her child circling in
the center of the room before the lit TV, crying softly...
DYLAN
Never sleep again, never sleep again...
And scattered all around him on the floor are the filthy
pages of letters.
HEATHER
Dylan...
Then she stops, staring more closely at the letters on the
carpet. For the first time she sees that using the single
letter from each page, Dylan has spelled out:
A*N*S*W*E*R
T*H*E
P*H*O*N*E
Then the phone RINGS.
Heather stares at Dylan, stunned. The phone RINGS again, and
without even thinking about it, she picks it up.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Yes?
FREDDY (FILTER)
I touched him.
Before she can react the telephone suddenly thrusts a long,
fleshy tongue into her mouth in an appallingly obscene lick.
She flails backwards, flinging it away, and as she does,
Dylan lets out a piercing scream and falls gasping on his
side, legs kicking like an animal struck by a car.
Heather grabs him and runs for the door.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
EYES, PEERING FROM BEHIND THE FLARE OF LIGHT
CLOSER STILL ON DYLAN'S EYES - WIDE - UNBLINKING.
DOCTOR HEFNER, a tall, powerful looking woman in her 40's and
Chief of Pediatric Medicine, clicks off the light and looks
at Heather.
DR. HEFNER
Any history of epilepsy in your family?
HEATHER
No.
DR. HEFNER
Diabetes?
HEATHER
No.
DR. HEFNER
Was there any trigger event? A trauma,
shock or...
(looks at her more carefully)
You haven't shown him any of the films
you make, have you? The horror stuff?
HEATHER
(not sure she imagined it or
not)
No...
Hefner nods, scowling.
DR. HEFNER
Good. I'm convinced they can tip an
unstable child over the edge.
Heather swallows, hardly able to find her voice.
HEATHER
Unstable? Dylan's not unstable, he's...
just...upset.
The doctor's looks at her, as if wondering if Heather's
competent enough to handle a painful truth. Then she just
scrawls something on a prescription sheet.
DR. HEFNER
We'll run a battery of tests and know in
a few days.
Heather looks at Dylan, eyes haunted by a terrible
vulnerability.
Dylan is stone silent. No evil behavior. Just exhausted and
withdrawn, like some small creature escaped from a predator
by the skin of his teeth, now just following core instinct:
stay in hiding. Do not make a sound.
HEATHER
Does he have to stay here over night?
DR. HEFNER
Absolutely.
The doctor draws her out into
HALLWAY OUTSIDE DYLAN'S ROOM
She holds Heather's eye and speaks low, so Dylan can't hear.
DR. HEFNER (cont'd)
Anything more happen we should know
about?
Heather tenses ever-so-slightly.
HEATHER
Like what?
DR. HEFNER
Sometimes what a child says or fantasizes
will give a clue to what ails him. Did
he say anything while he was still lucid?
Heather looks to Dylan. He's looking at her with trusting
eyes.
HEATHER
(low)
No. Dylan didn't say anything.
She goes into the room. Dr. Hefner watches her carefully. A
nurse walks by and Hefner hands her the X-rays.
NURSE
What have we here?
DR. HEFNER
(low)
It's too soon to know for sure, but the
early symptoms point towards childhood
schizophrenia.
INT. DYLAN'S HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY
TIGHT ON HEATHER AND DYLAN. Heather has heard the above
exchange. Near tears, she looks down to Dylan curled against
her, eyes open but unseeing. Staring not so much at her as
past her, out the window.
HEATHER
Dylan, can you hear me?
Just barely perceptibly, the terrified boy shakes his head
'no'.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Dylan, you've got to fight it, whatever
it is that's after you. And you've got
to come back to me. You can't make it
alone. Do you hear?
ON DYLAN
No response to this. But then a single tear courses down his
cheek. And then he nods 'yes'.
HEATHER (cont'd)
Yes. And if you can hear me, you can
tell me what you need to feel safe.
He says nothing. But then Heather is aware of movement. She
looks down and sees Dylan's hand moving under the covers,
reaching, reaching down towards the bottom of the bed, for
something that clearly is not there.
HEATHER (cont'd)
(realizing)
Rex? Is that what you want? Rex is
home, Dylan. That's where you should be,
too. You've got to get better so they'll
let you come home, understand?!
DYLAN
(very, very quietly)
Home.
HEATHER
Home, that's right.
She points out the window.
HEATHER (cont'd)
That's where I want you, Dylan. You know
we're not that far. Right out there past
the freeway is our home. But to get
there you've got to come out from where
you are. Then they'll let you come back
home to Rex...and to me.
She kisses him gently on his forehead, crying herself now.
Then a NURSE ENTERS with a paper cup.
NURSE
Time for your medicine, cowboy.
Dylan looks at it solemnly.
HEATHER
What is that?
NURSE
(quietly)
Just something to help him sleep.
Heather looks at Dylan and nods. Then as if he were a
thousand years old, Dylan puts it in his mouth. The nurse
gives him water and he swallows.
NURSE (cont'd)
Attaboy. Now take a little nap.
(to Heather)
You'll have to leave now. He'll be fine.
We'll run tests tonight. You can visit
again in the morning.
The nurse leaves. Heather turns to Dylan.
HEATHER
Okay, Dylan. I'll be back here first
thing tomorrow. I love you.
Heather kisses him again, gives a little wave, and leaves.
Dylan closes his eyes.
But when Heather disappears through the doorway behind, he
brings his hand to his mouth and spits the sleeping pill into
his palm. A moment later he's hidden it deep in his bed
covers, and his eyes are wide open, staring out through the
window again, to his home over there, so near yet so far
away.
EXT. HOSPITAL PARKING LOT - DAY
Heather, in her Volvo, starts to back out, lost in thought.
Instantly there's a BLARE OF HORN and CURSES from the car
she's almost backed into. Heather pulls back into the
parking place and kills the engine.
She just sits there and sobs, for one moment all the
confusion and dread surging out of her. Then she forces
herself to breathe. Swipes away the tears. Swears to
herself. And starts the engine.
INT/EXT. HEATHER'S VOLVO - DAY
Heather drives and drinks 7/11 coffee. She's got the RADIO
on loud to fight drooping eyes.
RADIO NEWSCASTER
Seismologists at CalTech have counted
over 300 of the temblors so far. Though
most were too faint for us to feel, seven
have shaken our community in the last two
weeks. And now scientists are
speculating there might be an unknown
fault running beneath Los Angeles, a
fault that could...
Heather turns it OFF. Thinks a moment, then punches numbers
on the carphone and listens to it cycle and RING. Somebody
picks up immediately.
PATRICE (SPEAKER)
Robert?
HEATHER
This is Heather, Patrice. I was calling
for Robert. He's not there?
INT. ROBERT ENGLUND'S HOUSE/STUDIO - DAY
PATRICE, Robert's wife, 33, a face of great strength and
beauty, looking a bit dazed and edgy right now, moves through
the living room with a suitcase. She puts is down with two
others, then starts for the studio.
PATRICE
He's...out of the house, Heather.
HEATHER (FILTER)
Will he be back any time soon?
PATRICE
Uh...actually, we're ducking out of town
for a while.
ON HEATHER
sensing the woman's near panic.
PATRICE (cont'd)
(on speaker)
And you should get away, too, Heather.
You really should.
CUTTING BACK TO ENGLUND'S
Patrice has stopped in the studio to grab Robert's glasses.
She stuffs them into a pocket, turns and looks off
PATRICE (cont'd)
Just a little break away from L.A.
CUT TO WHAT SHE'S LOOKING AT
The IMPRESSIONISTIC PAINTING Englund was working on. A
LARGE, FRIGHTENING PORTRAIT OF FREDDY HIMSELF. A being far
more dark and ominous that the usual version. The one we
(and Heather) glimpsed in Chase's coffin. As different in
kind as the film Batman was from the TV version.
He's larger, quick and feral, yet at the same time imbued
with enormous strength and intelligence. A truly primal
threat from the lowest ring of hell. And the large gleaming
steel hand and claws, cocked and ready to strike, grow right
out of the end of his arm.
PATRICE (cont'd)
We could all use a break right about now,
don't you think?
BACK ON HEATHER
as the line goes dead.
EXT. WES'S HOUSE - DAY
A modern home high above MALIBU. PAN ACROSS A POOL to a
PATIO, where we DISCOVER WES and HEATHER walking together.
WES
I wish I could tell you where this script
is going. I don't know. Look, I dream a
scene, I write it down the next morning.
Your guess is as good as mine as to how
it ends.
He ducks inside, Heather running to catch up.
INT. WES'S HOUSE - DAY
HEATHER
Well at least tell me what it's about so
far.
Wes stops as his HOUSEKEEPER emerges from the kitchen with a
steaming cup of coffee. Heather drinks immediately, despite
the scalding heat. When the housekeeper disappears, Craven
continues.
WES
I can tell you what the nightmares are
about. They're about this...entity.
Whatever you want to call it. It's old,
very old, and it's taken different forms
in different times. The only thing that
stays the same about it is what it lives
for.
HEATHER
What's that?
WES
Killing innocence, one way or the other.
She notices the haunted eyes.
HEATHER
This is still a script we're talking
about, right?
WES
I think of it as sort of a nightmare in
progress.
She looks at him, he stares back, revealing nothing.
HEATHER
Then, in this nightmare in progress, does
this thing have any weaknesses?
WES
It can be captured, sometimes.
HEATHER
Captured? How?
WES
By storytellers, of all things. Every so
often, they imagine a story good enough
to catch its essence. Then it's held
prisoner for a while. In the story.
She looks at him.
HEATHER
Like the Genie in the bottle.
WES
Exactly.
(beat)
The problem comes when the story dies.
It happens a lot of different ways, the
story gets too familiar, or too watered
down by people trying to make it easier
to sell, or ti's labeled a threat to
society and just plain banned. However
it happens, when the story dies, the evil
is set free.
Heather blinks as it hits her.
HEATHER
You saying Freddy's this ancient thing?
WES
Current version. For ten years he's been
imprisoned as Freddy by the story of
Nightmare on Elm Street. But now that
the films have stopped-
(looks at her)
The genie's out of the bottle, Heather,
that's what the nightmares are about.
That's what I'm writing.
She looks at him, fear creeping up her spine.
HEATHER
If Freddy's loose, I mean, in your
script, where's he going to go? Another
age? Another form?
WES
That's not what the dreams say he's
doing.
HEATHER
Then what is he doing?
WES
Well, see, he's gotten used to being
Freddy now. And kinda likes it here in
our time and space, too. So...he's
trying to cross over, from film into our
reality.
Heather looks like she might pass out.
HEATHER
Isn't there anyone that can stop him?
WES
Interestingly enough, in the dreams there
is one person. A gatekeeper, so to
speak. Someone Freddy's got to get by
before he can enter our world.
(looks at her)
It's you, Heather.
HEATHER
Me? Why me?
WES
Dramatically speaking it makes perfect
sense. You played Nancy, after all, the
first to humiliate and defeat him.
HEATHER
That was Nancy, not me!
WES
But it was you that gave Nancy her
strength. So to get out he has to come
through you. And it's inevitable that
he'll hit you at your most vulnerable
points...
Heater pales.
HEATHER
Dylan. And...
(realizes)
Chase. My God, Wes, did you know?
WES
Heather, it's just a movie, a dream,
really...
HEATHER
You know damn well it's more than that
now!
(lower)
How can we stop him?
He stops in the doorway to his studio. Heather sees this
room is draped against the light. In its center glows a
computer, a half-finished page of script on its screen. Next
to the computer, a narrow cot, its sheets twisted.
WES
The way to stop him is to make another
movie. And I swear to you I'll stay at
my computer and keep writing until I
finish the script. But when that time
comes...
(quietly)
You're gonna have to make a choice.
HEATHER
Choice? What kind of choice?
WES
Whether or not you're willing to play
Nancy one last time.
FADE TO BLACK.
FADE UP ON:
INT. CHASE AND HEATHER'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Heather studies long into the night, a host of books spread
around her. Yellow pads for notes, and she's brought the
coffee-maker right into the bedroom now. It sits prominently
on her bedside table.
CLOCK 12:30AM
CU PAN OF BOOKS
Chilton on Childhood Diseases, Barton & O'Neil's text on
Pediatric Schizophrenia; Xeroxes from Scientific American,
the Journal of the AMA, Lancet, Journal of the American
Psychological Institute.
CU HER FINGERS
tracing complex paragraphs.
XCU OF TEXTUAL FRAGMENTS
SARA
...incipience of aphasia commonly
preceded by periods of acute
irritability...delusional accounts of
shadow figures... hearing of voices...
seizures, nausea and emesis...
INTERCUT WITH CU OF HEATHER'S EYES
reading, reacting subtly as the fear and awful doubts mount.
Then she loses her grip momentarily on the book, and several
pages turn. She tries to find her place. Then straightens.
XCU NEW TEXT
under a heading of SLEEP DISORDERS, the words 'many of the
symptoms of schizophrenia are duplicated in children
suffering from sleep deprivation.'
XXCU THE WORDS "SLEEP DEPRIVATION"
CU OF HER HAND REACHING FOR HER CUP OF COFFEE, stopping
inches from the cup.
XCU HEATHER'S EYE, shifting to the cup.
XCU COFFEE CUP, the black surface of the coffee radiating
concentric rings, subtle at first, then larger and larger
until the fluid is sloshing over the brim.
HEATHER
goes rigid, braces looking around. There's a distinct LOW
RUMBLE BUILDING now, with a responding CREAKING COMPLAINT
from the timbers of the house.
Then the TV IN HER ROOM BLINKS ON, at first silently, so that
she's not even sure she's heard its subtle 'blink'. Then the
volume comes up, and she finds herself watching a newstory on
the days earthquake, FOOTAGE (STOCK) of brick walls atop
smashed cars, freeway overpasses cracked and closed off.
ANNOUNCER (TV/VO)
A six-point quake on the Richter Scale,
bringing scattered destruction throughout
L.A. Basin...
HEATHER fumbles in the drawer of her bedtable and finds the
remote, aims and fires and the
TV BLINKS OFF. BEAT. THEN BLINKS BACK ON.
HEATHER
just stares at it. What is going on, here?
She's about to beep it off again when she stops, the story is
segueing to:
ANNOUNCER (TV/VO cont'd)
The world of horror films suffered its
own terror today, as two of Hollywood's
best-known special effects technicians
were found dead in a vacant field.
THE TV SWITCHES to a late-night NEWSCASTER with the SUPER-
IMPOSED LOGO of FREDDY'S CLAW and the TEXT: REAL-LIFE HORROR.
ANNOUNCER (TV/VO cont'd)
Terrance Feinstein and Charles Wilson,
two special effects artists reputedly
working on a top-secret project for the
makers of the Freddy Krueger films, were
found brutally slashed to death early
this.
Heather beeps it off, and the TV stays black. She breaths a
sigh of relief, badly shaken. Then it comes back on.
ANNOUNCER (TV/VO cont'd)
Freddy's glove was missing, and police
are speculating whether the murders were
the result of a botched theft of...
GZZZTTT!!! The picture contorts, goes to snow and dies.
There's an interior, bluish flare inside the TV, and a wisp
of smoke. Then silence.
Then the phone rings. Heather just stares at it.
IT RINGS AGAIN. Then her answering machine picks up
downstairs.
SARA (FILTER)
Heather? This is Sara. Um, sorry to
call so late, but...this is kinda hard...
I don't know if you've seen the news,
but... we just are thinking we might
shelf this new Nightmare project for a
while, and wanted you to know. Call.
Bye.
CLICK.
Heather leans back against her pillows. Closes her eyes and
takes a deep breath. Just the sound of the WIND now. Her
head falls slowly sideways.
Then the first plate falls in the kitchen, then another, a
sharp, harrowing CRASHING of crockery. And Heather dives out
of bed, stumbling for the doorway as the full force of the
earthquake hits!
KABLAM! Heather braces in the doorway, gritting her teeth as
things throughout the house topple now, something big in the
living room, both lamps off the bedside tables, this is the
worst quake yet!
Then the LIGHTS GO OUT. Heather lets out a cry of terror and
adrenaline. At last, it's over.
A moment's silence. Then one final CRASH. Glass from the
sound of it. Then utter, preternatural silence.
Heather holds, waiting for the aftershock. But there is
none. Then she starts to wonder about that last crash.
There's enough moonlight to tell the direction of it, the
closet.
She looks. The rest she can guess, but what the hell was in
the closet? She crosses and opens the door, looking down to
see
The broken remains of her coffee pot. She looks back to her
bedside table. The coffee pot is gone.
The merest sound brings her head around, and she finds
herself looking into a face not ten inches from her own, a
dark, scarred figure, face contorted with menace, eyes
catching the scant light just enough to glint incredible
hatred and energy.
Heather lets out the scream at the same second he strikes,
lunging forward and driving her backwards over the bed,
landing atop and pressing his ugly face right into hers. Now
there's enough of the moonlight to glimpse the pocked and
crisped skull.
FREDDY
Naaaaancy!
XCU TWO SHOT
and he drives down hard, but as he does, the bed suddenly
twists up and over at the same instant, and the AFTERSHOCK
HITS! Heather is thrown to the side at the last possible
second. The blades slashing past her throat and hitting her
up-thrust arm, a split second before she careens out of bed
entirely.
Hitting the floor hard, knocking herself out cold. As the
quake's last RUMBLES shake the room, then fall away.
CLOSE ON HEATHER
on the deck. Shaking herself back to consciousness. Looking
around in shock.
The room is normal. Only her bed seems affected, so askew
half the mattress touches the floor.
She raises herself painfully. Her bedside clock radio is
blinking "12:00...12:00". She realizes she's clutching her
arm, that there's blood oozing between her fingers.
Then she remembers.
HEATHER
Dylan!
INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - NIGHT
CAMERA MOVING HANDHELD WITH HEATHER as she runs down the
corridor towards Dylan's room. Then she sees
JULIE
staring back at her, stopped by a nurse.
HEATHER
Julie, what're you doing here?
Julie gives a funny shrug.
JULIE
I don't know. I just...had this terrible
dream...that Dylan was in danger. I had
to come over to see...
(laughs nervously)
You must think I'm crazy.
Heather shakes her head.
HEATHER
No, I don't think that at all. How is
he?
JULIE
They wouldn't let me...
At that moment Dr. Hefner strides into sight. She looks at
Heather with a slightly pained smile.
DR. HEFNER
Ms. Langenkamp. I'm afraid there are no
evening visiting hours in Intensive Care.
HEATHER
Is he all right?
DR. HEFNER
Dylan? He's holding well. Earlier he
had some problems, he's in an oxygen tent
just now...
HEATHER
Oh my God...
She goes to pass but the doctor stops her, looking down at
her sleeve.
DR. HEFNER
It seems we've had an accident, Mrs.
Langekamp. May I?
Heather looks down. She's forgotten entirely about her
bloodied arm. The doctor lifts the sleeve. Sees the four
slashes across the forearm.
DR. HEFNER (cont'd)
Those are nasty cuts. How...
HEATHER
It happened during the earthquake. I
fell. I want to see Dylan...
But the doctor doesn't move out of the way. She looks from
the cuts to Heather's face, seeing the fear and stress.
DR. HEFNER
In a moment, first let's see about you.
She takes Heather's elbow. Heather glances towards Julie,
then goes with her to...
INT. DISPENSARY
Heather sits while the doctor treats the cuts. Heather's
obviously uneasy and wishing to be with her son, but the
Doctor isn't taking the cuts lightly, and is increasingly
alert to Heather's highly agitated state.
DR. HEFNER
If these had been a few inches nearer to
the wrist... What did you say you cut
yourself on?
HEATHER
It was an earthquake and it was dark. I
have no idea.
DR. HEFNER
These look quite fresh.
HEATHER
They are...it happened in tonight's
quake.
(off her blank look)
It happened just fifteen minutes ago.
You must've felt it.
The doctor has no idea what she's talking about.
DR. HEFNER
(smiles faintly)
Guess we lucked out over here.
Heather swallows. The doctor begins bandaging.
DR. HEFNER (cont'd)
Your son, apparently, is terrified of a
man. Someone he thinks is going to come
out of his bed.
(off her look)
One of the nurses heard him talking in
his sleep You have any idea who that man
might be, Mrs. Langenkamp?
Heather winces as the woman binds the gauze with a clip.
HEATHER
I meant to bring him his dinosaur, Rex.
Rex keeps Freddy from...
Heather realizes what she's said, but too late.
DR. HEFNER
The man from your films? Freddy Krueger
with the claws? Is that who he's afraid
of?
(eyes flick to Heather's arm)
You have let your child see your films,
haven't you?
Heather turns and faces the woman, furious.
HEATHER
Every kid knows about Freddy. He's like
Santa Claus or King Kong.
Dr. Hefner just eyes her, too appalled to take it further.
DR. HEFNER
I see. Well. Interesting talking to
you, Ms. Langenkamp. I hope you
understand, my concerns are simply for
the welfare of your son.
She smiles thinly and leaves the room.
INT. DYLAN'S HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT
Dylan, now visible only through the plastic of an oxygen
tent.
Heather sits next to her son's bed, exhausted. Just watching
his slow breathing. Trying to piece it all together.
A nurse passes, glances at Heather and exchanges a whispered
word with a SECOND NURSE.
Heather, despite her best efforts, is nodding. Suddenly
there's a shrill ALARM from a monitor and Dylan twists
sharply inside his tent, suffering what looks like the full
cardiac arrest. Arched across the bed, fingers clawing the
air in silent agony.
Heather jerks awake as several NURSES rush in, looks back to
Dylan, sees he's half sitting up now, his eyes open, peering
back at her with incredible intensity as he unzips the oxygen
tent.
It stops her short. She leans closer.
HEATHER
Dylan, honey. You shouldn't do that!
Dylan's face twists slowly into an uncanny imitation of an
old man, and the voice that comes out of this child's mouth
is absolutely recognizable, absolutely Freddy Krueger's.
DYLAN/FREDDY
Too late. I'm almost there, Heather, I'm
almost there.
And with that Dylan vomits. A huge involuntary convulsion
that sends green/black effluvia straight into her eyes!
Heather lurches back, clawing at the stinging globs clinging
to her face, her hair. We glimpse insects, worms and worse:
QUICK CUTS
Emergency machinery flying in. Heather pushed back. Nurses
scurrying. The SOUND of Dylan CRYING in a daze for his
mother.
Then Dr. Hefner strides in and roughly shoves the nurses
away.
HEATHER
Doctor...
DR. HEFNER
(to nurses)
Get her back! I've got to go in! Get me
a full anesthetic, STAT!
NURSE
We don't have any here, doctor.
The doctor, grim-faced and furious, wheels back to Dylan,
clawing the oxygen tent away.
DR. HEFNER
Screw it, then. I'm going in!
She rips the terrified child's gown away from his chest.
DR. HEFNER (cont'd)
Cut this evil out of him!
And with that, she pulls her hand out of her bag and we see
the grim glove. A medicalized version of the gleaming,
TINGING scalpel-sharp claws. Dr. Hefner raises them to
plunge into the child.
Heather lurches forward.
HEATHER
Nooooo!
STILL IN THE ROOM
the crazed Dr. Hefner is not there. But Heather has dived
right onto Dylan's bed. Now several NURSES struggle to
subdue her. Heather fights one last second, then realizes
what's happened.
NURSE
Now what have you done to yourself, Miss?
Heather looks down and sees the blood seeping out from under
the bandage on her arm. Then she looks back
DYLAN'S BED. The oxygen tent shredded. And Dylan gone.
Heather loses it.
HEATHER
He's got him. He's got my Dylan!
The nurses wheel and stare at her. Wild, trembling, and now
with a stark streak of gray slashed through her auburn hair!
NURSE
Who? Who's got him?
Heather sees the looks of people clearly thinking she's nuts.
But she doesn't give a shit. She realizes now what's
happened in the brief moment she was asleep.
HEATHER
(low)
Freddy...
NURSE #2
Freddy...?
(laughs)
Who, Freddy Krueger or something?
Just at that point the real Dr. Hefner comes in. Takes in
the situation in an instant and asks
HEATHER
My baby. Freddy's got my baby! He's got
my Dylan!
The doctor seizes Heather roughly by the arms and shakes her
until she looks at him.
DR. HEFNER
Ms. Langenkamp. I suggest you go home
and get some rest. Your son is fine.
He's been taken downstairs for further
testing.
HEATHER
He was just here!
DR. HEFNER
(as to a retarded child)
He was here. You fell asleep. We took
him. You looked so exhausted, frankly,
we didn't wake you. Besides, the young
woman, Julie, is with him. Believe me,
everything is fine.
HEATHER
Everything is not fine!
And she bolts out of the room. Hefner swears under her
breath and snaps to a nurse.
DR. HEFNER
Call security.
INT. TESTIN