BRIEFING AREA - new day, new soldiers. Tarakanov finishes his litany.
TARAKANOV Do you understand your mission as I have described it?
SOLDIERS (UNISON) Yes, Comrade General.
TARAKANOV These are the most important ninety seconds of your lives. Commit your task to memory. Then do your job.
458 INT. TOP OF STAIRS - NEAR ENTRANCE TO MASHA - DAY 458
FOUR SOLDIERS are silhouetted against the BRIGHT LIGHT of the opening that leads out to Masha. Shovels in hand.
A radiological soldier straps DOSIMETERS to their waists. We can already hear steady CLICKING. But he shows no worry.
We can't see the faces of the men. But we sense their fear.
THE SITE OFFICER - holds a stopwatch.
SITE OFFICER It's time to go. After ninety seconds, I will ring a bell. When you hear it, return immediately. Drop your shovels in that bin, and proceed down the hallway for decontamination. (beat)
Above all-- while you are on the roof, you will throw the debris over the rail. You will not look over the rail. Is that clear?
They nod.
SITE OFFICER (checks his stopwatch) Very well. On my mark. Ready. Go.
459 EXT. MASHA - NOW 459
BEGIN UNINTERRUPTED TRACKING SHOT
The following unfolds in real time. The shift will last ninety seconds. We will be with them for all ninety seconds.
The men scramble out on to the roof, moving as quickly as they can. One LOSES HIS FOOTING on a piece of graphite. Catches his balance. Keeps going.
THE DOSIMETERS - will serve as our SCORE. The clicks increase in frequency and pitch. It sounds like heavy rain on a tin roof now.
A soldier PLUNGES his shovel into a pile of BROKEN GRAPHITE RUBBLE. Lifts it. Heavier than it looks.
He carries his load toward the RAILING... his breathing loud in our ears... the dosimeter volume JUMPS in fits and starts... now a constant, heavy STATIC NOISE...
We move away from him and find ANOTHER SOLDIER trying to lift a LARGE GRAPHITE BLOCK with his shovel. Too heavy. A second soldier runs over and joins in.
They LIFT the block in tandem, and as soon as it rises:
The dosimeter SPIKES in volume. They've uncovered a piece of FUEL ROD. The terrifying cacophony of a million neutrons firing against their bodies.
They don't stop. They waddle in unison toward the railing just as the first soldier hurls his graphite over the edge.
We move to find: the FOURTH SOLDIER... striking a hardened patch of BITUMEN and GRAPHITE with the blade of his shovel. It refuses to give way.
He LEANS HIS BODY against the shovel, PUSHES, and then LOSES HIS GRIP on the shovel handle. It clatters to the surface of the roof. He quickly picks it back up. Breathing hard. Fear.
Another soldier APPEARS. Helps. You're okay. Keep going.
They both hammer away at the solidified black tar with their shovels until it finally peels up. The fourth soldier lifts it with his shovel.
We lead him as he runs to the railing, his boots crunching on graphite. He gets to the edge and THROWS the shovel-load over the railing, then SLIPS...
...and catches himself on the railing. Nearly went over. And in that split-second, he LOOKS DOWN into:
THE OPEN REACTOR PIT.
DOSIMETER: a tornado of sound. Deafening. Distorted.
He backs off, and now another sound. Distant under the roar of the dosimeter, but growing. Louder now.
THE BELL, clang... clang... clang...
It's over. Get back. The soldier turns, but:
HIS BOOT IS CAUGHT between two pieces of REBAR in CONCRETE.
Behind him, the other soldiers are already running back.
Clang... Clang... Clang...
Panic. Can't breathe. Dosimeter noise. Boot. Can't take it off. Can't get free.
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
The soldier stabs at the rebar with his shovel blade... if he misses... if he punctures the boot...
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
His boot PULLS FREE. He SPRINTS BACK to the opening as fast as he can, slipping and sliding along the graphite, doesn't matter... get off the roof... get off the roof... get off—
END TRACKING SHOT
460 INT. TOP OF THE STAIRS - CONTINUOUS 460
The soldier returns to the relative safety of the hallway. The DOSIMETER noise subsides to a steady, low clicking. And to think that once frightened us.
The soldier remembers that he's still holding the shovel. His fingers gripped tight. He flings it into the bin.
Then he feels something. PAIN. He looks down at his boot.
There's a SMALL RIP in the rubber. He stares at it for a moment, then:
SITE OFFICER (O.S.) Comrade soldier.
The masked soldier looks up. The Site Officer stands ten feet away. Safe distance. He points toward a corridor.
SITE OFFICER
You're done.
The soldier hesitates for a moment, as if he's not sure what that even means...
...and then he nods, turns to the corridor that will take him to decontamination, and exits.
We never saw his face. We never even knew his name.
The Site Officer watches him leave, then turns to: FOUR NEW SOLDIERS, masked and suited up.
SITE OFFICER It's time to go.
461 EXT. KIEV - APARTMENT COMPLEX COURTYARD - DAY 461
Children run by, bundled up against the cold, shouting and yelling happily as they play.
We're back in the courtyard surrounded by blocky Soviet apartment buildings.
LYUDMILLA - heavily pregnant, sits on a bench, still alone. Watching the children play. Watching the mothers. And fathers.
TITLE:
DECEMBER, 1986
A RUBBER BALL - bounces across the playground toward Lyudmilla. She bends down with effort to pick it up, and a LITTLE GIRL, 6, runs over to get it.
Lyudmilla smiles and hands the ball back to the girl, and the girl smiles back.
Then the pain hits.
Lyudmilla doubles over. A contraction. The little girl's smile fades. She just stares.
WIDE SHOT - from across the courtyard. Women gathered in the foreground, chatting. In the B.G., Lyudmilla is doubled over... the little girl standing next to her.
The PAIN hits again. Harder. She cries out. The little girl RUNS AWAY, afraid... and finally, one of the grown women turns to see Lyudmilla.
Another cry. They all see her now. It's like they're just discovering she exists. And finally, two of the women start running across the concrete courtyard to help her, and:
DISSOLVE TO:
462 EXT. PRIPYAT - LATE AFTERNOON 462
Silent streets. The freezing air is still. May Day banners hang limp and torn. Dead trees line the streets.
And then, at the far end of the street - MOVEMENT. A Red Army UAZ-469, the Soviet version of a Jeep, turns into view. Slowly moving toward us.
463 EXT. PRIPYAT - CONTINUOUS 463
BIRD'S EYE VIEW - the UAZ drives down the street. Nothing else moves in the dead, empty, silent city.
464 EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF PRIPYAT - MINUTES LATER 464
LOW TO THE GROUND - a cluster of dead bramble. The legs of a CHILD'S DOLL stick out obscenely from the branches.
The UAZ enters, and rolls to a slow stop. KHOMYUK emerges from the passenger side. A FILE FOLDER under her arm.
In front of them, an ugly building. Dull white tiles. Four stories. Broken windows. She looks around. No one in sight. No sound in the frigid air. They are completely alone.
She nods in thanks to the driver and turns to the building.
465 INT. DILAPIDATED BUILDING - MOMENTS LATER 465
Khomyuk walks slowly down a dim corridor. Broken glass occasionally crunching under her feet. Her breath fogging in the freezing air. This was an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Children's artwork shares space on the walls with propaganda posters.