Tremors: A Cold Day in Hell (2018) Movie Script

Whoever heard of a heatwave
in the Arctic?
Welcome to the new normal.
We're standing on a gigantic ice cap,
and it's 32 Fahrenheit.
Welcome to the Arctic summer.
Wait, did you just use
that antiquated Imperial measurement?
Yeah, I did, Sweden.
I'm from Norway, A-hole.
Not Sweden!
YANKEE: Is there
any difference?
You Americans! You're so out of step
with the rest of the world.
You're a scientist,
for God's sake.
You two knob jockeys
sound like a couple of Sheilas.
Let's get these core samples
and get back to the outpost.
Guys, we hit something.
This is some mean ice.
That's why they call it
the Old Cold!
Yeah, well, I reckon just
increase the bit speed.
Let's blast right through it.
Hey, guys?
I'm getting a seismic spike
in the ice.
Yeah, well, it's probably
just an isostatic rebound.
Like hell, it is.
I'm getting a big-ass
magnetic anomaly on my screen.
Whatever it is, it's alive,
and it's big.
There are no big life forms
that live in solid ice.
Maybe the backscatter effect
brought up a rock formation.
Yeah, and maybe
it's the Easter Bunny!
This is not a rock, and it sure
as shit isn't the Easter Bunny.
Check it out.
DUTCH: Aussie? Aussie?
Aussie, do you copy?
What the hell?
- What...
- Get it out! Get it out!
Come on, get it out. Come on!
Come on! Come on! Come on, Yank!
No! No!
Really, Gummer?
A motion detector?
Man alive,
it's hot as balls out there!
Hands where I can
see them, partner.
Oh, gee-whiz, Gummer!
You know who I am!
It's me,
Special Agent Dalkwed.
Do it, Agent Dickweed.
Are you threatening
a federal officer?
That all depends, Taxman.
Sticks and stones.
Is that a pellet gun, Gummer?
You bet
your sweet ass it is!
Oh, since when
do you play with toys?
Since none of your damn business.
You armed?
Of course, I'm armed.
All Special Agents with
the United States Treasury are armed.
You know that.
Special Agent!
You're a bean counter.
This here is private property
in an open-carry state.
And you wouldn't happen
to have any financial interest
in said property,
now would you?
Nope! Go slap a lien
somewhere else.
Already have.
I see you've changed teams.
No, just hats!
Well, it was a miracle
the Cubbies won that series.
And frankly, Gummer,
that's what you're gonna need,
a miracle.
'Cause right now,
your ass is in my hands.
Your point, Dickweed?
Your tax position has been
deemed frivolous by the IRS
and your property has hereby
been seized.
What? You can't!
I can, and I did!
The IRS owns you, Gummer,
until such time as we can arrange
for confiscation of any and all items
deemed suitable
for government auction.
You parasitic son of a bitch!
Yeah, your...
Your well-endowed battery of firearms
might raise enough to make a dent
in your failure to file
penalties and interest.
I detect the odorous stench
of Schadenfreude, Agent Dickweed!
I will see you in court!
In court? Oh. Oh, no!
We're way past that, Gummer.
Way past.
Out of here!
Goodbye, Gummer.
And don't let the door
dislodge that poker up your ass!
Oh, I'll be really careful.
- TRAVIS: Another satisfied customer?
- What?
Did you miss me?
Yeah, like a boil on my ass.
I see you got
the supply req.
Oh, yeah. That eighth text
was a charm.
"Hey, welcome home,
sonny boy!"
"Oh, good to see you."
"How long's it been?"
"Four or five weeks?" "Okay.
How'd the video shoot go?"
Fascist jackals!
Ooh, Government plates.
That can't be good.
Let me guess. IRS?
They've got no right to waltz in here
and seize a man's property.
Come on, Burt. You've been flipping off
the Feds longer than Wesley Snipes.
That's got to be a record.
This is the very thing that
sparked the Boston Tea Party.
BOTH: No taxation
without representation!
It's a good thing Jodi decided
to stay at that law firm in Reno, huh?
- Lets you squat here?
- Nobody's squatting.
I'm managing the store now.
Really? Congratulations.
And I really love what
you've done with the place.
You really put the hyphen back
in anal-retentive. Jeez.
I can do
without the sarcasm, son.
Oh, come on, Burt.
Don't be hurt.
All right, now that I'm back,
let's hit that reset button, huh?
Put some fresh content
up on YouTube,
try and resurrect
that Bull's-Eye Brand.
Not doing prepper videos anymore.
My director quit on me.
No, he didn't.
He's right here.
I just had a small
mental health break.
What's up with that hat?
Wait a minute.
You change teams?
No, just hats!
Take it easy, Burt.
Look, I know you hate taking direction,
and my style's way too
improvisational for you, okay?
Lord, you're giving me
a headache.
Come on, Burt,
meet me in the middle.
Make sure you put $5
in that cash box.
For what?
That beer doesn't come free.
You're closing up?
Dude, it's not Miller time yet.
You can't find your beach.
Time for some shut-eye.
Since when do you "shut-eye"
in the middle of the afternoon?
Since you showed up!
You wonder why I go
to strip clubs!
What the hell happened here?
Something attacked them
from under the ice.
It can't be!
Yo, Burt! What's up?
Feel free to join in.
I think I'll pass.
You wanna earn your keep,
go stock some shelves.
I'd love to, but you've got
a phone call.
Take a message.
I tried,
but there's a lady
holding on the line,
who's got a very sexy
phone voice, by the way.
She told me to tell you
that they've got, uh...
I can't read my writing.
What does that word...
What does that say? That she's got, uh...
- Graboids? Where?
- Mr. Gummer?
Affirmative. Who's this?
Dr. Rita Sims. I'm calling
from Nunavut Province, Canada.
We're 67 degrees north.
- That's the Canadian Arctic.
- Yes, it is.
I'm the station leader of
an international research team.
We' re based at Bote Canyon.
How'd you get this number?
You from the government?
Is she hot?
Well, I have an associate
familiar with your work.
I think your associate
must be half a bubble off plumb.
That was my first reaction,
but she's actually very bright.
She knows a lot
about Graboid mythology.
Graboids are no myth,
but they're a desert phenomenon.
I think this is
a colossal time suck, Miss, uh...
Dr. Sims.
Graboids do not and cannot
exist in the Arctic, Dr. Sims!
- Impossible.
- Ask her if she's hot.
Improbable but not impossible.
- Who's this?
- This is Valerie.
First, let me say that,
as a major Graboid enthusiast,
I have admired your work
for years. Here's what I know.
Graboids are subterranean
worm-like predator
unlike any other life form cataloged
in Earth's genetic or fossil record.
When fully grown,
a Graboid can reach up
to 10 meters in length
and weigh up to 20 tons.
Their semi-rigid internal structure
is covered by a leathery carapace.
They're daytime hunters
and have no eyes,
but what's most fascinating
to me about their predatory acuity
is that it's based on vibration.
Go on. I'm listening.
They have a massive black armored beak
and two hooked mandibles,
one on either side of their jaw.
The species is Precambrian and have long
and powerful snake-like tentacles,
which can reach three meters
to ensnare their prey.
If you'd like,
I can give you the 411
On the morphological
known as the Ass Blaster
a.k.a. Mexicana Combustus.
You're a treasure-trove of
Graboidology, Miss, but I...
You've hunted and killed them
on two different continents, Mr. Gummer.
That's why I insisted
that we call.
But why are you so sure
this is a Graboid attack?
The kill site
has all the telltale signs.
Except for location.
I don't know.
Call it a gut feeling, intuition.
We need your help, Mr. Gummer,
and we need it ASAP!
Think of the adventure,
Graboids in the Arctic.
This could be
a whole new ballgame.
Batter up!
You never asked
if she was hot!
- Where are you going?
- Round two! I'm coming with.
Request denied.
What? Come on, here,
stop being Burt for a minute,
and logic this thing out
with me.
This is our chance to revive
Burt Gummer's Bull's-Eye Brand,
get you free
of the taxman, dude!
Let's be honest. You've got
a lot of red in your ledger.
My financial status
is none of your damn beeswax.
And you'll just be in the way.
Oh, like I was
in South Africa? Huh?
That was a one-off!
Nothing more.
You're looking at this through the wrong
end of the telescope here, friend.
What about your legacy, huh?
What about it?
Do you know of any other
Graboid hunters out there?
Uh, I don't.
I know, you know,
Bigfoot hunters... No!
You're Burt Gummer.
You're a one-off!
Come on, man, teach me!
Pay it forward.
Oh, I'm not dead yet.
I know, and I'm not interested in
talking about your mortality, either,
but think about it.
Who's gonna fill your shoes
when you can no longer outrun
or outgun these beasts, huh?
I've got to
tell you something.
Burt Gummer's got
some big-ass shoes to fill.
Size 12s.
I've seen you
in the locker room.
And you're my heir apparent.
Is that it?
You already led me through
one Graboid gauntlet.
- There's a lot you still don't know.
- Exactly my point.
Learning can be fun!
Rosetta Stone me, dawg.
It was a decent enough
combat primer.
Hell, yeah, it was!
I was your wingman.
More like wingnut!
Come on, that's...
That's a little harsh,
I think.
Damn it!
Are you willing to follow orders?
I mean, sometimes, I don't...
Look, the most important
six inches on the battlefield
are between your ears.
You got that?
I'd like to think I have more.
I think I'm 6.5.
Don't crack wise with me.
Sir, yes, sir!
And have you filled out
the requisite non-resident
special exemption RCMP-5590 form?
- What?
- The RCMP-5590 form!
For that firearm you're
planning on bringing into Canada.
Well, then you better download
one and fill it out pronto.
Grab your arctic gear.
Welcome to
the Great White North, eh!
Otherwise known
as Nowheresville.
You're about 1,000 miles
north of there.
You're somewhere
between, uh,
and Don't-Wanna-Go.
TRAVIS: Where are
all the glaciers?
Melting. Sled dog unemployment's
at an all-time high.
How much longer
till we're there?
Not far.
Just around the bend.
Where's your GPS?
You're in the Arctic Circle.
Satellites up here
are more miss than hit.
But don't worry.
It's all up here.
That's reassuring.
How is it back there,
Mr. Gummer?
My seismic vibration monitor
is completely useless.
Yeah, well, you can log in to the
inter-Web when we get you on station.
- Peachy.
- Hey, I'm a big fan of your series.
I loved that episode on dried meats
and insects as proteins.
I see you're smuggling home-brew
grain alcohol into dry territory.
Well, the local tribal authority
are a bit blue-nosed,
so I'm forced to bring it
in under the radar.
Don't ask, don't tell, right?
BURT: Yeah.
I see it.
- It can't be.
- It is.
- It is what?
- We got a hostile aerial incursion.
What's your altitude?
1,400 feet.
I suggest you take evasive
action and put this plane on the ground.
Ass Blasters in the Arctic?
They're keying in
on your engine!
- Yeah, they're heat seekers.
- Who's they?
BOTH: Ass Blasters!
- Bird strike.
- We've lost the engine.
No shit, Sherlock!
Get this down! Now!
Stand by for some chop!
Does that mean crash?
Gravity never loses!
The best we can hope for
is a draw!
- Brace for impact!
- Impact? What impact?
(PANTS) And we're here!
Whoa. We're so
out of here!
Oh, no.
Here they come,
the men in black.
Well, well, well!
What do we have here?
Tom and Jerry?
Frick and Frank?
No, more like
Butch and Sundance.
Starsky and Hutch.
Do I smell alcohol?
My bird runs on bio-fuel.
And you're bootlegging moonshine
into a First Nations territory?
That is a big time no-no!
You don't mind if we help
ourselves now, do you?
Well, there's a matter
of payment, eh?
Put it on my tab.
BURT: And who might
you be?
I'm your next-door neighbor
while you're up here
on your little worm hunt.
But there's no welcome mat
on my doorstep, so tread lightly.
A piece of advice, Mr. Gummer.
You stay out of my way
and pay your taxes.
Consider yourself
properly warned.
Do I know you?
I don't know. Do you?
Since we're neighbors,
here's some neighborly advice.
Beat a retreat until I get
this area cleared out.
Retreat? Hell, no. We're just
getting started up here.
Then find a safe place
to hunker down.
Consider yourself
properly warned.
You know that skid mark?
What can you tell me
about him?
MAC: Well, rumor has it
he's up here working
on some Area 51 stuff.
Some joint US-Canadian
turd factory
being developed by Harpo...
You mean DARPA?
That's the one! Know them?
Yeah, they're the acronym
for evil.
You must be Valerie?
At your service. And thanks
for answering our SOS.
Yeah, my call sign,
these days.
This is Aklark.
He's our resident local boy.
Hey, Mac. I saw you came in
a bit hectic there, huh?
Yeah, just a little bit.
Did you guys just come
from Burning Man, or...
How's it, Mr. Burt?
Wow! They even know you
in Canada!
You failed to tell me
about the AB infestation.
- We have Ass Blasters?
- Yeah.
It ain't a polar bear, girl.
Mom and Dad aren't
gonna believe it.
"Mom and Dad"?
Here's a blast from the past,
Mr. Gummer.
I'm Val and Rhonda's daughter.
No! Val and Rhonda from
the OG Graboid apocalypse?
Crazy, huh?
You must be Travis.
I am.
Uh... I kind of lost track
of your parents over the years.
It's okay. They're easy
to lose track of, especially Val.
Let's get you back to the station.
Everybody's waiting.
He's not
the keeping-in-touch type.
Come on.
Ah, bam!
Aw, man!
I see you've come up north
loaded for bear, Mr. Burt.
Yeah, BSA .303. Nice.
It'll kill most varmints.
Yeah, well, for the varmints
we're hunting,
that's like shooting
a slingshot at a Sherman tank.
I thought it'd be colder than a
reindeer's ball bag up here.
We're in the middle
of an Arctic heat wave,
which has greatly accelerated
the snow melt.
Hell, I'm hotter
than a 50 cal on full auto!
Mr. Gummer,
glad you could make it.
Welcome to the Bote Canyon
Arctic Research Station
or, like we used to call it,
science at the edge of the world.
You must be, uh,
Dr. Rita Sims?
- Good to meet you.
- Yeah.
This is Dr. Ferezze.
- Charles Ferezze.
- Doc.
How was your flight in?
Well, let's just say, uh,
we hit some chop.
We blew the engine.
Actually, we came
under Ass Blaster attack,
and during the ensuing
aerial dogfight, the engine was blown.
- An Ass Blaster?
- Yeah.
Blew the engine?
But you have to fly me
back to Montreal so I can report
to the powers that be about
the recent turn of events.
Well, they'll just have to wait till
I get this puppy airborne again.
I can't stay here
one more minute!
Excuse me. I've got
an engine to fix.
DR. FEREZZE: Excuse me.
Dr. Ferezze, he startles
at the drop of a feather.
I'm sorry.
We haven't met yet.
BURT: Oh, Travis Welker,
my, uh...
My wing, uh...
Thank you for coming.
I've got to go inside,
get the lay of the land.
Sunset at 3:48 a.m.
Well, it's the Land of
the Midnight Sun, Mr. Welker.
Are you saying that the sun
is never going down on me?
Well, it's never gonna go
below the horizon,
if that's what you're asking.
RITA: We sent a three-man
drill team to the glacial field
about a half a day
up mountain from here.
You have three KIA?
Killed in action.
Whoa, that's a big
10-4, good buddy.
- Name's Swackhamer.
- Swackhamer.
I hammered-and-nailed
this place together.
You need to know anything,
I'm your guy.
There's two that we can
verify dead, one assumed dead.
Verified? How?
Well, from the kill site.
Rita and her crew managed
to recover a severed head,
a partially eaten pelvis,
and a half-eaten testicle.
How do you recover
a half-eaten testicle?
Now, where's all
the snow, Dr. Sims?
This year in particular has been one
of the warmest on record up here.
Meet Hart Hansen, Mr. Gummer.
He's a PhD in Geomorphology
from the University of Cambridge.
Ah, yeah, airplane boy.
It's an RC. Kind of a hobby.
It's actually a habit, um...
Okay, it's an addiction. Anyway,
it's a pleasure to meet you,
Mr. Gummer.
I'm sure you'll find
that Bote Canyon
is a very unique
geological phenomenon.
VALERIE: This perennially
frozen tundra is interrupted
for approximately
10 square kilometers by thawed soil.
It's bone dry out there.
The Meltwater Hot Springs
are a pleasant symptom
of geothermal heat, which warms
the Earth from deep beneath the land
that we're standing on.
That explains the ABs.
Ass Blasters!
- Ass Blasters...
- You think this is funny?
These creatures are no joke.
They are all-go, no-quit killing machines.
Now, I'm sorry for the loss
of your friends,
but if you don't do exactly
as I say,
they won't be the last
to die around here.
Not funny, Mr. Gummer.
We get it.
The permafrost at a higher
elevation is melting,
so the tundra is more easily breached.
Ergo, Graboids.
You're telling me melting ice caps
and warmer temperatures
are causing this, uh,
Graboid Arctic stampede?
Kind of, but there's more.
(SCOFFS) Enlighten me.
Why here?
Evolution, Mr. Gummer.
There's one thing
Nature has taught us,
and that's life can expand
into new territories.
Maybe these are
the first Graboids.
- Yeah, like pre-Precambrian.
- VALERIE: Exactly.
And maybe they migrated south millions,
maybe even billions of years ago
and evolved into a desert creature.
And now, after countless
giga-annum lying dormant in ice...
They've awakened.
(SIGHS) Come on, this sounds
like a bunch of sassafras!
It does sound sassafrassy!
Dr. Sims, a word?
How much longer?
I've got to cold-stitch the intake
manifold, rebuild the carb.
Look, if you don't get
this clunker in the air soon, I'll...
You'll what, Mr. Freeze?
Ferezze. Dr. Charles Ferezze.
What is it?
What are they doing here?
- Oh, them?
- Shh!
Yes, them.
What's your association
with them?
They're our
research neighbors.
Why are we whispering?
They can't hear us.
When did they arrive?
They arrived a couple
of months ago.
They're working on some
US-Canadian project.
It's very hush-hush.
Why? What?
Bio-weapons is what.
I'll bet you a dollar
to a donut hole we've zeroed in
on DARPA's testing ground.
You think that
our research neighbors
are breeding these creatures
as bio-weapons?
Bingo! This is
the killing ground,
and you're the guinea pigs.
I think you're reaching.
It's a verifiable fact that
DARPA started training dolphins
as bomb-carriers
during Vietnam.
More lately, they've been outed
for weaponizing cyborg insects.
No, ma'am, I wouldn't put anything
past these black-hat Mengeles.
We got Ass Blasters on campus!
Dr. Ferezze is out there
with that thing.
Oh, Lord. That guy's
turned into a real ass-ache.
What's the 20 on that AB?
That flaming sphincter
is on the roof!
Eyes! We need
eyes on that roof!
I'm bringing up
the roof cam!
All right, listen up!
If there are Ass Blasters on station,
Graboids aren't far behind.
They respond to seismic vibrations,
so everyone stay still.
Dr. Ferezze. Just the man
I wanted to see.
The bodies, or what's left of them,
are ready for transport.
When you have a minute,
we need to go through the details again.
We've been through it.
It was an apparent Graboid attack.
Locked and loaded.
That thing just took down
our comms tower.
We've got no talk.
Our data-link
and NetCam are down, too.
BURT: How'd that
ass-wipe get out there?
Now I've got to save his sorry butt!
I'm going outside.
(WHISPERS) You ever seen
an Ass Blaster before?
- Nope.
- Yeah.
This is a first.
They're pretty cool, actually,
but they're mean, and they stink.
I had a boyfriend like that once.
You single?
Are you trying
to get sweet with me?
- Definitely.
- It's not gonna work.
(sun FIRING)
Doc! Doc!
Doc! Grow a spine, huh?
Look at me.
I have balls of steel.
Say it!
I have balls of steel.
My balls are stainless steel!
My balls are stainless steel!
My balls are in
the Guinness Book of Balls!
My balls are in
the Guinness Book of Balls!
Right! You put this on.
- Yes.
- It'll hide your heat signature, huh?
Now, look. You stick with me
like a shadow. You hear that?
Now, put that dick
back in your pants
- and do what I do, right?
- Yes, sir.
- Roger?
- Roger.
- Roger that. Let's go.
- Okay.
Come on, soldier.
Hoods up!
What the hell?
Suck on this, bird brain!
TRAVIS: Go away, sucker!
(DISTORTED) How are you
feeling, Mr. Gummer?
What's going on?
- You just had surgery.
- What?
Arthroscopic surgery.
To remove a mondo tapeworm
that was causing a cluster-fete
in your intestines.
I know. Gross, huh?
Oregon State.
Corvallis, right?
Yup. Go Beavers!
You know, my dad's been
telling me stories about you
since I could bounce
on his knee and...
I still can't believe
Val McKee's your father!
He's more of a dad, really.
Crazy uncle, actually.
Wild, huh?
Your father was the most
brilliant underachiever lever met.
Yeah. That's what Mom
always says.
He always told me
what a hard-ass you were.
I mean, are.
Oh, no way. No way!
Are those...
Graboid skin? Yeah.
Dad made them for Mom.
She handed them down to me.
Pretty indestructible.
What are you doing up here?
Internship. I'm doing my Masters
in Mathematical Geosciences.
How are you feeling, Burt?
Speaking of underachievers.
I am as strong
as a fifth of whiskey, Wingman.
Really? 'Cause you looked slower
than the Mississippi out there.
Where's my munitions,
my combat vest, my clothes, huh?
To your left.
Well, feel better, Mr. Gummer.
All right. Thank you, Miss McKee.
You can call me Val.
What's going on with you, Burt?
It's not like you to take
a knee on the field.
We need to talk.
Where'd you get that HK91?
Mr. Gummer?
There's something
that you need to see.
The water levels dropped 15 centimeters
since our last measurement.
The samples have detected
a new chemical element in the soil gas.
Can you determine what it is?
Uh... The computer's
reading it as HCO2H.
Formic acid?
Yeah, and it's a highly
concentrated dose.
The acidity in the pH
is off the charts.
What the hell was that?
You hear that?
Get out! Get out now!
What the hell?
What is it?
You've been infected, Mr. Gummer,
by what appears to be a
parasitic organism that is
quite hostile and has
an extremely slow gestation.
What's the bad news?
Well, unfortunately, it secretes
a neurotoxin at a certain maturation,
killing the host.
Killing the host?
You mean, Burt being the host?
We've identified the toxin
as originating from a Graboid.
TRAVIS: A Graboid?
- What...
- Just indulge me.
Blood behind the eye caused
by cerebral inflammation.
Advanced stage.
It's not good.
You're gonna need antibodies.
Well, how do we get them?
From a Graboid.
Maybe we can get one
to stop by the blood bank.
TRAVIS: How the hell did you
get infected by a Graboid?
I was in the belly
of the beast.
Okay, so we kill a Graboid.
We get it done.
I got this, Burt.
The antibodies need to be extracted
from a live Graboid to be viable.
A live Graboid?
Mission: Impossible.
You plan on throwing a lasso
over its neck?
If you'll excuse me,
I need to do a perimeter sweep.
I don't think you understand
the urgency of your condition.
Don't let the urgent
get in the way of the important.
Your body is failing, Mr. Gummer.
Bullshit! I want a second opinion.
Yeah, I know that's all macho
and everything, Burt,
but I happen to care
about your health!
Go care someplace else.
That's a dick thing to say.
No bad seed
shall go unpunished!
Get it off of me!
BURT: Hang on.
Please don't let go!
- BURT: Hold on!
- Don't let go!
- My God!
- Please, don't let go!
- Please, don't let go.
- I got you.
- Hold me! Hold me!
- Shit! I got you.
All right!
Block that window!
Okay, everyone,
buckle your chinstraps
and pack a meat sandwich!
We are under attack.
Secure all doors and windows!
Well, this is just great.
We're under attack by
a hostile underground life form.
We're all going to die!
Listen to me, Doc.
Take a couple of
tablespoons of cement
and harden the hell up, huh?
Okay, look, anybody
with a weapon, load it up.
We have the sharp end of the stick.
Whatever you got, use it!
Easy, there, cowgirl!
I can't get this seismic
vibration monitor working.
Our data-link and NetCam
are down, Mr. Gummer.
Yeah, the Ass Blaster tore our
comms tower apart last night.
Can you fix it?
Swackhamer's been
working on it all morning, but...
The HF antenna's totally destroyed.
Coax has been severed.
The grid pack dish
is totally shot.
All right, how long
will it take to fix?
- A day, at least.
- All right.
Iridium satellite phone?
- Who took the sat phone?
- I saw Dr. Ferezze with it earlier.
Oh, Ferezze flew the coop.
All right, find him and get
that sat phone to me ASAP!
It's our lifeline out of here.
We've got to call in Evac
and get these kids
someplace safe!
I can drop an elk at 800 yards
and field dress it
in less than 30 minutes.
Maybe that'll pull you
out of your worry well.
We're up for this, Mr. Gummer.
Copy that, Miss McKee.
We are flying blind.
Advantage, Graboid.
I was never properly briefed
on the lay of the land, Dr. Sims.
RITA: We are here.
There are mountains to our
east, west, north, and south.
It's a true box canyon.
Total geographic isolation.
This is the bunkhouses.
That's DARPA encampment.
The hangar's about 120 meters
to our direct front.
Aflac's down there.
It's Aklark!
Make yourself useful, Wingman.
Give the hangar a holler.
With what,
a cup and a string?
Use the walkie-talkie.
Yo, North Star One, this is
North Star Base. You copy?
You got Mac, North Star One.
Send your traffic. Over.
Look, shut it down now,
all right?
Stop all work
and stay inside.
- What's this?
- A road.
You mean washboard.
The road's out.
Landslide last winter.
It's totally impassable.
This whole base is like
open range for a Graboid.
Wait a second.
You're telling me
we're smack dab in the middle
of a kill zone and no way out?
Everybody freeze!
(WHISPERS) Valerie.
I think it's leaving.
It's caught wind of
another vibration.
Something's moving.
Or someone.
I can't find Dr. Ferezze
in the bunkhouse.
That cheese-dick
gone AWOL again?
Dr. Ferezze!
BURT: Hart, no!
Back here! Don't follow
stupid with stupid.
Dr. Ferezze!
Come back, Dr. Ferezze!
Dr. Ferezze,
where are you going?
Anywhere but here!
Just calm down and think,
Dr. Ferezze.
There's nowhere
for you to go!
I'll take my chances.
- Hart!
- Here it comes!
Dr. Ferezze!
Please, don't do this!
Don't start the car!
- Please!
- Adis, amigo.
Dr. Ferezze!
Damn, I don't have a shot!
Dr. Ferezze!
Inside! Everyone, now!
Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!
This shit just got real!
I can't believe what that thing did
to Dr. Ferezze.
They just came out of hibernation and,
based on their body mass index,
those creatures
need to eat a lot.
- How many are there?
- It's impossible to tell...
without my
seismic vibration monitor.
Well, we can't stay here.
Copy that. We've got weapons,
but not enough for these bad boys.
The bigger the problem,
the bigger the hammer.
Yeah? What've you got
in mind?
There's a couple of cases
of dynamite in the hangar.
Petrol, tools,
bear bangers, odds and ends.
There's enough stuff to MacGyver
a bomb we can stuff down their throats!
Sounds like that's our FOB.
One problem.
The hangar's got a compacted
chip-stone floor.
Oh, come on, man.
They're gonna be like
sand sharks
bobbing for apples.
Yeah, and we'll be
the Granny Smiths.
This floor is 1.2 meters
above the ground,
supported by
a steel substructure.
Those things won't be able
to knock this place down.
Yeah, but it's only
a matter of time
before they come blasting through
the floor and eat our lunch.
I've got an idea.
The generator's in the hangar, right?
Yeah. Triple-phase power,
63-amp cables.
According to
these blueprints,
this hangar's got
a deep-pile foundation.
Yeah, steel caissons going
directly into the bedrock.
Drilled it myself.
You think you can re-route
the power so it goes to the steel caissons?
Are you saying
what I'm thinking?
What are you thinking
I'm saying?
I'm thinking that you're saying that
we shoot a dose of milliamps
straight into the groundwater
and create some kind of...
- Underground electrical fence.
- Exactly.
That's exactly what I'm saying
you're thinking. Can you do it?
I've done more with less.
Yeah, but if
it doesn't work, we die.
So what the hell, Burt?
Have you ever nailed Jell-O to a wall?
I'm not sure
how that's relevant.
It's relevant
because I did it.
And guess what? It stuck.
You know why?
Because everyone said I couldn't.
All right, I got it.
I got it!
And we've got a plan.
We're off to the hangar.
Teams of two.
Travis, you, and Dr. Sims.
Swackhamer, you're with me.
Wingman, we're gonna need
a diversion!
I'm on it.
I'm gonna pretend
I didn't just hear you leave me out
because I'm coming
on this worm hunt.
Elk hunter, huh?
Think you can bang on this short arm?
Piece of cake. You zero that scope
for distance or dangerous game?
- What do you think?
- Stupid question.
Mind if I tweak it for
my preferred point of impact?
Dad and I always zeroed our scopes
at 2.5 inches high at 100 yards.
Well, whatever floats your boat.
You're on overwatch.
Take Vargas and go on the roof.
Roger that.
And hold on tight, huh?
She'll kick some!
Got you.
The gun or Vargas?
You feel up for this, old man?
I'm fine.
You make ready.
Okay, you ready, Dr. Sims?
Oh, shit.
Look what the cat dragged in.
- Oh, good. You're here.
- Mr. Cutts.
I just lost my top scientist
at the Meltwater Hot Springs.
You just got in over your head
and had to punt, huh?
Your experiment's run amok.
My experiment?
What, you think I'm actually
controlling these...
Yeah, but of course you would.
Your psych eval suggested as much.
You had me profiled?
I'm sorry to disappoint you,
but this is not the Island of Dr. Moreau.
I'm not some kind of walking
ethical dumpster fire.
My mission here
is more elevated than that.
Oh, yes. No DARPA skunk
works in the hopper, huh?
No bio-engineering perhaps?
A little Graboid gene-splicing?
You know, that's a good idea,
but bio-weapons are not my thing.
I'm here with an engineering team
to assess the purity
of the groundwater
and to design an aquifer to move it out
of the Arctic and into civilization.
This is about water?
Water is the new oil,
and, as you may have noticed,
the Arctic has it
in abundance now.
It took just
one of those creatures
less than a minute to kill
my best scientist.
Nobody move! Nobody move.
It's under the floor.
Don't move.
Let me unload.
All right.
Fire at will!
BURT: Yes!
Help! Help me!
Help me! Help me!
All right. Let's scoot
and shoot!
What about us?
Find high ground,
solid ground,
and whatever you do,
don't move!
BURT: North Star One
to North Star Hangar.
We are coming your way. Over.
Roger that, Mr. Gummer.
Sounds like
you stepped in it up there.
Affirmative. Time to dig in,
work together. Over.
Is it a hunting party?
Sure as hell
ain't no pony show!
All right, look,
I'm gonna lead it away from here.
When I do, run!
Like a dog to a bone!
Bio-mechanics are so sexy!
To the hangar!
Come on!
Incoming! Three o'clock!
Oh, shit! Not another one!
The truck!
- Swackhamer, get up!
- Yeah.
Come on! In the truck!
Come on!
That thing's got me
by the pants!
So take off your pants!
100% no!
- Take off your pants, Rita!
- No!
- Take them off now, goddammit!
- No!
- Why?
- I'm not wearing any underwear!
You're going commando
in the Arctic?
I don't wear underwear.
It's too restricting.
- I think I love!
- Yeah?
- Hey, Hart?
- Yeah?
How many of those
energy drinks did you have today?
Six, maybe seven.
I mean, could be eight.
Get ready to run, Wingman.
We're executing
Diversion Tactic Two.
Okay, Hart. Time to take one
for the team.
Free Willy
and let the big dog eat.
You want me to drop trou?
Don't question my orders!
Now, you take out that disco stick,
and let it dance!
Okay. Don't anybody look.
Dude! We have bigger worms
to worry about!
Get ready to redeploy!
That boy's got game!
Fire at will!
- Preferably today!
- I'm trying!
Oh, come on! If you're gonna
piss like a puppy, stay on the porch.
I'm no puppy, Mr. Gummer.
I'll tell you that.
Gonna build me an ark!
We're clear to the hangar.
Go! Go! Go!
Here, here! Take this!
Bad news, Val. Eleven o'clock!
That makes
the Graboid count two.
VARGAS: Yeah, two alive.
One dead.
Burt, you copy? Over?
You there? Copy?
Copy, Wingman.
You doing okay?
Why the hell wouldn't I be?
We're fighting
a Graboid apocalypse
with a bunch of noncoms!
Don't worry about me!
Just stick to
the mission objective.
We've got to get
one of those worms pronto!
Watch out!
It's headed your way!
From the drill tower.
Say a prayer, I'm gonna flip
the switch on this ittle cucarcha.
One! Two!
Watch out!
It's working.
It's actually working!
It can't get through.
I told you I've done more
with less!
Come on! Whoo! Yeah!
How're you doing
out there, Burt?
Talk to me.
Burt, you're alive?
You've never given up on
anything in your life, old man.
Don't start now!
You father
is very sick, Travis.
He can't die. Not now.
Not on my watch.
This is his second
neuro-muscular collapse.
(SIGHS) Come on, Travis.
Man up.
Okay, look, we capture
one of these things, right?
How do we get
what we need?
There should be a glandular sac
somewhere in the throat.
Looks like Sally's testing
our underground electrical fence.
Who's Sally?
You named it?
After an ex.
Sally Soulsmasher.
She was a dirty,
man-eating bitch
who used to stick her nose
where it didn't belong.
Everything okay out there?
SOLDIER: Copy that, sir.
Just locking the gate. All clear.
Stop moving, you idiot.
It's coming through the floor!
BURT: Wingman?
Wingman, you there?
Burt. How are you feeling?
Fit as a butcher's dog.
I'm coming your way, Wingman!
Let's go, guys. Let's go.
Let's get to work.
Swackhamer, start making
those bombs.
- Look, Burt, we...
- Got to destroy these devils!
- No, we have to catch one of these!
- We don't catch. We kill!
- Even if it kills you?
- This is not about me.
- Yes, it is!
- Not if we still got Graboids out there.
Come on, Burt.
I'm just getting to know you.
I don't wanna see
your sorry ass die.
I'll be dead when I say I'm dead!
That's not how this works!
Last I checked, you don't give
the orders around here.
Oh, I do now.
You never answered
my question.
Where'd you get that HK91?
My wife.
Ex-wife, Burt.
Who gave you the right
to meddle in my affairs?
Hey! I'm the result of one of
your affairs, remember?
Bullshit! Bullshit!
You're not hooking and reeling me
into this conversation!
I guess I touched
his thermostat.
You wanna die? Huh?
Do you?
Stop being so stubborn.
Did you...
Did you say hooking
and reeling?
Jesus, Burt, you are a genius.
Hey, Mac, how are we doing
on that plane?
Well, I've got to put a wrench
to a few more screws.
Everybody, listen up.
I think I've got a way we can
catch one of these things!
What the hell is that?
The seismic alarm.
We set the core sample
drilling on auto for today, remember?
That damn drilling tower
is like Graboid catnip.
That puss has already
taken the bait.
We've got to shut it down
before Hart becomes a Happy Meal!
The timer panel's attached
to the drill tower.
Okay, if we can't turn it off, we've got
to lead that Graboid away from Hart.
I've got to shut off the drill rig.
You can't go down there, Val.
Battle stations!
Let's make some noise!
Double the voltage this time.
I want him dead!
VALERIE: Hold on, Hart.
I'm coming!
VARGAS: Hurry up, Val.
Number two's coming right at you.
Go! Go! Go! Raise Cain!
Come to papa!
That'll close the carpool lane!
Give me some! Whoo!
Give me some, Burt!
Broke into the wrong goddamn hangar,
didn't you, you bastard?
HART: Val, it's in front of you!
(sun FIRING)
Let's go, Hart.
It's retreating!
Come on!
All right, let's not celebrate
in a huddle, folks.
We've still got at least
one Graboid out there.
Uh, guys,
I hate to drop a turd in the punch bowl,
but the genny's blown!
What the hell does that mean?
No underground electrical fence.
We've got to get him to medical.
Okay. Get that airplane ready to fly,
and wait for my call.
All right, everybody,
I'm on the point.
Single file.
Any movement?
Nothing. Zip.
- Zilch.
- Nada mucho.
- I say we run, get there fast.
If that thing attacks,
I'll just honey badger the shit out of it.
Uh, help? Over here!
Oh, shit, he lived?
I've got to do the right thing, don't I?
It's a good habit to start.
(SIGHS) Okay, Rita, you take
Aklark and Burt to the medical.
I don't care what
you have to do to keep him alive!
Swackhamer, you're with me.
On three, we break.
One, two, three, break!
Man, am I glad to see you guys now!
Get me down from here.
Jump, you chicken-shit!
Don't jump, okay?
But I'll tell you what you can do.
Remove all the tax liens
on Mr. Gummer for the last 27 years
and give him back his house,
and I'll make sure that you stay
on this side of the tundra.
Yeah, whatever. Done.
Uh, no, we're not done.
We also don't wanna pay taxes
for the rest of our life.
Federal or state, yeah.
Nevada doesn't have state taxes.
Yeah, no federal taxes!
Well, that's gonna be
a hard one to swing.
Uh, have a nice life!
Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine.
- I'll do it.
- You didn't see the ladder, asshole?
Dude! Baby bag.
Hey, candy-ass!
If you have a set of balls,
now would be the time
to use them.
There she blows.
Time for some psy ops.
I'm gonna distract Sally Soulsmasher
with some shock and awe!
Good luck with that.
Suck on this, worm!
Come on!
Ride them, cowboy!
Giddyup! Oh, yeah!
How do you like me now?
Oh, good. Get me out of here.
- Take it easy, Burt.
- Don't tell me to take it easy.
It's time for a sit rep.
Yeah, I think you better sit
this rep out.
- Who put you in charge?
- You did.
- I did?
- Yeah, once you got hurt, Burt.
That puts me in charge
whether you like it or not.
I feel fine.
Tell everybody to gear up
and get ready.
Get ready for what?
Ready to save your ass,
that's what!
Capturing a Graboid! Right?
You might as well try taking
the black off a crow.
Hell, while you're at it,
why don't you tell the rain not to dry?
I'm your only shot.
- You?
- Yeah, me, Burt! Me!
Your job is to preserve
my legacy!
My job is to make a last stand
against these Arctic Graboids.
You can't stand,
Colonel Custer!
- Back off!
- It doesn't belong to you!
Cold, dead hands,
is that it, Burt?
What is wrong with you?
I'm trying to save your bacon here,
you stubborn old coot.
You've crossed the line!
This fight is done with you.
Yeah, well, I'm not done
with it!
Yeah, you are.
Don't leave me unarmed.
You got your true love back.
I guess blood ain't thicker
than ammo, is it, Burt?
If you've got Ass Blasters,
you have Graboids.
That's right, soldier.
This is FOB. DOA.
My balls are in
the Guinness Book of Balls!
That went well!
Yeah, it sounded like it.
You ready?
It's a good look for you.
I guess the big boy's still out there
sleeping somewhere.
I hope he's the only one.
When you get pushed in,
you've got to swim, right?
Hey, Swackhamer, sit rep?
SWACKHAMER: Seconds away!
Travis, this plan, it's
fricking crazy, huh?
Just like nailing Jell-O
to a wall.
Yeah, bro.
This is Mac. I'm wheels up
in five!
Takes me back
to my banner-tow days.
Hope the old girl
can handle the load.
Don't worry. Come on.
It's just a pure catch-and-release mission!
When the fish is on,
you want me
to pull up hard and do
a wingover, eh?
Affirmative. We're gonna use
the bitch's momentum to land her.
Okay, Aklark, she's all yours.
Just keep it steady.
We don't wanna wake the beast up.
Let's go fishing.
All right, Valerie, you ready
to take down one of these bad boys?
I'm so ready.
All right!
When I get in position,
rock the cradle.
VALERIE: I'm baiting the hook.
VARGAS: Okay, Val, get ready.
It's awake.
Three hundred meters
and closing!
- One hundred meters and closing.
- Okay, let's go.
All right, Mac, bring her in.
Bring her in.
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit!
Release! Release!
What now?
All right, listen, listen.
Absolutely no guns, okay?
We don't wanna kill it.
We want it alive.
We're going old-school
on this thing.
Shirts versus skins, all right?
- A three iron?
- It was the best I could do.
All right.
Let's go Alpha on this worm!
All right.
Whoa, whoa.
Come on.
Get him! Come on, kid!
Get him!
Oh, man!
Guys, good effort.
Uh, Swackhamer, you got this.
- VALERIE: Come on, Swackhamer.
- Whoo! Okay.
- You got it, man.
- You got it!
Back off!
Throw it!
Tap in. Tap in, big man.
SWACKHAMER: Go get it, Aklark!
It's all yours!
SWACKHAMER: Don't be afraid.
It can smell your fear!
- Make him sushi!
- SWACKHAMER: Come on!
SWACKHAMER: Wow! I did not
need to see that!
What's good for the Graboid
is good for the Gummer.
All right.
SWACKHAMER: That can't
be comfortable.
You went poking around
in my throat with a big-ass needle,
I'd be pissed!
Dude, you need a Tic Tac.
That is so awkward.
Oh, it smells so bad.
They should call him
Deep Throat.
That is all kinds of nasty.
At least the gland
wasn't in the prostate!
I'm sorry, Travis.
That's it?
There has to be
something more you can do.
BURT: That is no way
to treat an HK91!
Sorry, Burt.
It won't happen again.
With all due respect, soldier,
you need a shower.
BURT: What's the damn fuss?
How do you not die?
You never die.
- Mr. Gummer.
- Sir.
MR. CUTTS: Glad to see you
up and at them.
Now, it gives me
great pleasure to present you
with your permanent
federal tax lien release, in perpetuity,
as well as the title deeds
to your property.
Signed, sealed...
And delivered.
- You're too kind.
- MR. CUTTS: You're right.
This species will make
an exceptional bio-weapon.
When it comes to Graboids,
I'm rarely wrong, Mr. Cutts.
With the right neuro-implant,
it could be a bunker-buster
for God and country.
What do you think?
I was right about you all along.
You and your DARPA minions,
you're a bunch of malevolent ineptoids!
What the hell was that,
Mr. Gummer?
That, sir, is the trigger.
And I am the finger.
Look, I don't know
what you're doing,
but I'd strongly
advise you not to do it!
That Graboid is
US government property!
Hate to be a buzzkill.
Shoot it.
Blow it out of the sky!
Graboids don't make
good pets, Mr. Cutts.
AKLARK: Preach on it, Burt!
MAC: Mr. Gummer,
my plane's all packed and ready to go.
- Roger that.
- MAC: By the way,
nice work.
Dad was right.
You are a hard-ass!
Tell your dad I said, "Hey."
Tell him not to drop in.
He's not really
the dropping-in kind of guy.
He's more of
the barging-in type.
This is gonna be one hell
of a story to tell back home.
Tell him I said you're a better shot
than he ever was.
Thanks, Mr. Gummer.
Call me Burt!
You know I won't be
in the Arctic Circle forever, right?
Six months,
I'll be back in the States.
You trying to get sweet
with me?
Never gonna happen.
I think it might.
For everything.
Travis, what have you learned
from me?
Uh, to not trust anyone
or anything ever?
You call that a goodbye kiss?
A man brings a big bore .44 Magnum
to a fight, not some broke dick .22.
Broke dick?
That was sweet dick.
- Oh, was it?
- Yeah.
'Cause that sorely lacked any kind
of velocity or stopping power,
not to mention
maximum penetration.
Okay, it's a little late to have
the guns-and-ammo
talk, Burt. All right?
- It was better.
- Better?
It was no .44 Magnum.
.357, maybe.
Dude, what do you know
about kissing?
I know enough not to unholster
my weapon unless I'm prepared to use it.
It's nice to see you back
to your old self, Burt.
What do you say we get on home
and get ourselves some real sunshine, huh?
Sounds like perfection, Pops.