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+                                                                1.
+
+
+
+                                                      FADE IN :
+
+
+1   EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY                                               1
+
+    A dull highway. A crappy sedan roars by.
+
+
+2   INT. CRAPPY CAR - DAY                                            2
+
+    At the wheel, driving this piece of shit, is MIKE ENSLIN,
+    35, a grizzled, weary soul. He stares glassily at the road,
+    a cigarette behind his ear, a styrofoam cup of Exxon coffee
+    at his mouth.
+
+    A sign drifts by: "Woodfin, Rte 251 N - Asheville,
+    Interstate 240 E, Hwy 40, Next Right, Thru Traffic Merge”
+
+    Heh? Mike frowns.
+
+
+3   EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DUSK                                         3
+
+    RAIN pours down on an unpaved country intersection.
+
+    Mike stands outside his car, soaked, checking a wet map.
+    He’s confused and annoyed. There are no road markings at
+    all. He checks his watch.
+
+
+4   EXT. COUNTRY INN - NIGHT                                         4
+
+    A quaint rural inn, dark of night. The ambiance is
+    picturesque, but off-putting. Porch lanterns glow. Shadows
+    are deep. An ancient elm tree frames the banging weathered-
+    sign: "The Camden Inn"
+
+    Then, finally — headlights. Mike’s car pulls up in the mud.
+
+
+5   INT. INN - NIGHT                                                 5
+
+    Mike trudges into the homey, worn lobby.
+
+                      MIKE
+            Hi. Mike Enslin, checking in —
+
+    The gregarious INNKEEPERS jump up, excited. They're country
+    folk, beaming.
+
+                         MR. INNKEEPER
+                                                            2.
+
+
+        Oh, Mr. Enslin! We were so worried
+        you weren’t gonna show!
+
+                  MRS. INNKEEPER
+        It's such an honor to have you
+        here.
+
+                  MIKE
+             (disinterested)
+        Yeah. Great. Uh, if I could just
+        get my key —
+
+They ignore his exhaustion.
+
+                  MR. INNKEEPER
+        You probably want to hear all about
+        our haunted history! Well, that
+        rear staircase is where the maid
+        reputedly hung herself in 1870.
+
+                  MRS. INNKEEPER
+        There’s a picture —
+
+                  MIKE
+        Can we do this in the morning?
+
+                  MRS. INNKEEPER
+             (rummaging through
+             drawers)
+        Wait! It's printed in our brochure!
+
+INSERT - BROCHURE
+
+She thrusts out a brochure that says "HAUNTED!" There’s a
+PHOTO of the lobby, and a faint white shape in a window.
+
+                  MRS. INNKEEPER
+        Do you SEE her?
+
+                    MIKE
+        Uh —
+
+                  MRS. INNKEEPER
+        A guest took that photo in 1986.
+        You can sort of see Sylvia's
+        "ethereal apparition" reflected in
+        the window.
+
+Mike stares, unimpressed.
+
+                  MR. INNKEEPER
+        At least, Sylvia is what we call
+        her.
+                                                             3.
+
+
+                      MIKE
+            Terrifying.
+                 (pause)
+            I’m ready to hit the sack. in your
+            letter, you mentioned the scariest
+            rooms were in the old attic?
+
+                      MRS. INNKEEPER
+            That's right. The third floor is
+            the former servant's quarters.
+            People say all Sylvia's children
+            died up there of tuberculosis.
+                 (spooky)
+            Right up there. Right above where
+            you and I are standing, right
+            now...
+
+                      MR. INNKEEPER
+            Guests have reported strange
+            sounds. At the stroke of midnight,
+            there’s been weird noises. Creaks.
+            Moans.
+                 (mysterious)
+            Our best advice... is to lock your
+            door from the inside.
+
+                                                        CUT TO:
+
+
+6   INT. INN - MIKE'S ROOM - LATE NIGHT                           6
+
+    Mike lies on the antique bed, on a quilt, drinking mini-bar
+    BOOZE. He has an army of tiny Scotches, Gins, Vodkas. He's
+    bored out of his mind.
+
+                                                   DISSOLVE TO:
+
+    LATER
+
+    The boozes are empty. Somewhere, a grandfather clock CHIMES
+    midnight. DONG, DONG, DONG! Mike groggily glances at a
+    bedside clock, Waiting. Listening. Alert to anything...
+
+    Suddenly a loud CRASH! Mike jerks, startled.
+
+    He jumps up, concerned... then realizes it's only THUNDER.
+    Oh.
+
+                                                   DISSOLVE TO:
+
+    LATER
+
+    Mike is snoring, drooling, passed out.
+                                                             4.
+
+
+                                                        CUT TO:
+
+
+7   INT. CRAPPY CAR - DRIVING - DAY                               7
+
+    Mike is back in the car, driving another endless
+    interstate.
+
+    He speaks flatly into a pocket MINI-RECORDER.
+
+                       MIKE
+            People spoke of the spectral
+            presence of Sylvia... though I
+            personally never encountered her.
+                  (beat)
+            But in any case, the Eggs Benedict
+            were delicious, and Mrs. Clark says
+            if you have a party of four, she'll
+            make her famous flourless chocolate
+            cake.
+                  (beat)
+            On a Shiver Scale of 1 to 10, I
+            award the Camden Inn seven skulls.
+
+    Mike clicks the recorder OFF. He puts it down — then has a
+    thought and turns it back ON,
+
+                      MIKE
+            Fuck ’em. Six skulls.
+
+                                                        CUT TO:
+
+
+8   EXT. BARNES & NOBLE - NIGHT                                   8
+
+    A mall bookstore. The marquee shouts "GHOST SURVIVAL GUIDE
+    Author M. Enslin Tonight! 7 P.M."
+
+
+9   INT. BARNES & NOBLE - NIGHT                                   9
+
+    Mike enters, disheveled. The store is sad and generic —- an
+    air of listlessness hanging over the shelves. Mike tiredly
+    approaches the busy CASHIER.
+
+                      MIKE
+            Excuse me. I’m Mike Enslin.
+
+                      CASHIER
+            Sorry?
+
+                      MIKE
+                                                                 5.
+
+
+             I’m, uh... the "star” of your
+             booksigning tonight.
+
+                       CASHIER
+                  (a dawning awareness)
+             Oh, right. Right! Okay then!
+
+     The Cashier finishes his order, then flicks on a small P.A.
+
+     SYSTEM. He grabs a MICROPHONE and reads off a xeroxed
+     FLYER:
+
+                       ASSISTANT MANAGER
+             Attention, book lovers! In the
+             Author’s Corner tonight, we have
+             noted occult writer Mike Enslin!
+             He’s the author of the bestselling
+             Ghost Survival Guides, with such
+             titles as "Ten Haunted Hotels,"
+             "Ten Haunted Graveyards,” and "Ten
+             Haunted Lighthouses"!
+
+     Around the store, people look up. Mike leans into the guy.
+
+                       MIKE
+             You got a bathroom I can clean up
+             in, first?
+
+                                                            CUT TO:
+
+
+10   INT. BARNES & NOBLE - LATER                                      10
+
+     The event. It’s depressing — the sad reality of
+     booksignings. The back of the store has 30 or 40 folding
+     chairs, but there’s only FIVE SPECTATORS. Mike sits
+     alongside a pile of his paperbacks? discoursing.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Sure f these pieces have colorful
+             histories. That’s the hook: The
+             wedding night murder. The caretaker
+             who leaped to his death. The
+             runaway horse that trampled the old
+             lady. The war widow who went crazy
+             and threw the baby down the well...
+
+     The people go wide-eyed. Mike lets this hang... then
+     deflates it.
+
+                       MIKE
+                                                            6.
+
+
+        But there’s never any
+        documentation! If you do one iota
+        of research, the tragic event never
+        happened1 It's just a marketing
+        hook invented by desperate hotels
+        when the interstate gets built too
+        far away.
+
+The crowd doesn’t get it. One EMPHATIC MAN raises his hand.
+
+                  EMPHATIC MAN
+        Have you ever seen a poltergeist?
+
+                  MIKE
+             (he reacts)
+        See? That's exactly what I’m
+        talking about. You didn’t hear one
+        word I just said. I can type myself
+        sick debunking these places,
+        shooting arrows in the legends f
+        and it only makes people want to
+        stay there more.
+
+                  LADY
+             (she raises her hand)
+        Well, my family's planning a trip
+        this summer. Would you say there's
+        a higher concentration of ghosts in
+        New England or in the South?
+
+Mike wipes his face.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I would say nowhere but no one’s
+        listening. You'll probably want to
+        pick-up my "Ten Haunted Antebellum
+        Mansions."
+
+                                                    CUT TO:
+
+LATER
+
+Mike is signing paperbackst rote, the same autograph over
+and over: "Stay Scared! Mike Enslin” "Stay Scared! Mike
+Enslin"
+
+                  MIKE
+        Of course, I try to be scientific.
+        I travel with an EMF meter, an
+        infrared camera... a full-range
+        spectrometer. But I’ve never had to
+        use them, because there's nothing
+        to record!
+                                                                 7.
+
+
+     Then — a HARDBACK enters frame. He looks up, surprised.
+
+     A NERVOUS WOMAN holds the book. It’s a dusty, faded copy of
+     Mike's early novel, "The Road Back Nowhere.” The artwork is
+     heartfelt: A watercolor of a boy holding a surfboard.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Jesus. What rock did you find that
+             under?
+
+                          NERVOUS WOMAN
+             Ebay.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Wow. Haven’t seen one of these in
+             years.
+                  (awkward)
+             How much did it... go for?
+
+     The woman bites her lip, preferring not to say.
+
+                        NERVOUS WOMAN
+             Well, there weren't many bidders.
+                   (she smiles)
+             But it's a lovely book. Are you
+             going to write another one like
+             this?
+
+     He glances at the back cover: A decade-old PHOTO of himself
+     ■— young and optimistic.
+
+     Mike’s face falls.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Nope. That was a different guy.
+
+                                                            CUT TO:
+
+
+11   EXT. FLORIDA BEACH - DAWN                                        11
+
+     The sun is peeking over the horizon. The pink sky is
+     lovely, breaking over a rocky inlet.
+
+     Mike drives into a beach parking lot. He glances over —
+     spotting a cluster of parked cars. Across the sand, a GROUP
+     of dedicated SURFERS in wetsuits ride the early morning
+     waves.
+
+     Mike stares — then keeps driving. A surfboard sticks out of
+     his car. He goes to the far end of the parking lot, off by
+     himself, then pulls over.
+                                                                 8.
+
+
+12   EXT. OCEAN - LATER                                               12
+
+     Mike rides a wave. It's exquisite. For him, this experience
+     isn't about adrenaline, but tranquility. The weariness that
+     usually hangs over him is gone. He’s alone and perfectly
+     serene. Happy.
+
+     Mike enjoys the spray in his face. Until — he hears a
+     strange BUZZING. He looks around, then UP.
+
+     ABOVE
+
+     A small AIRPLANE flies over, towing a BANNER.
+
+     Mike squints, trying to read it.
+
+     The sky is too bright. The banner is silhouetted...
+
+     Mike focuses harder... distracted... when —
+
+     BAM!
+
+     A monstrous WAVE suddenly POUNDS him!
+
+     Crash! Mike gets slammed underwater.
+
+     UNDERNEATH
+
+     Mike gets pulled down.
+
+     He screams out, but only bubbles emerge.
+
+     The water BATTERS him. Everything swirls. He spins, losing
+     track of which way is up.
+
+     Mike struggles, desperate.,, trying to reach for sky...
+     getting sucked deeper toward the darkness...
+
+     When --
+
+     ANGLE -HIS SURFBOARD
+
+     suddenly appears from above. Like a godsend.
+
+     Startled, Mike grabs for it — when — it unexpectedly
+     pitches and HAMMERS him in the head.
+
+                                                            CUT TO:
+
+
+13   EXT. BEACH - LATER                                               13
+                                                                9.
+
+
+     ECU - MIKE’S FACE
+
+     Mike lies mutely on his back, on the sand.
+     Hyperventilating.
+
+     Winded. Eyes glassy.
+
+     But alive.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+14   EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY                                      14
+
+     An overlit, bleached-white fluorescent hellhole. An
+     anonymous storefront of mailboxes, packing supplies, and
+     key-cutting.
+
+     Mike enters and goes over to his mailbox. He unlocks it,
+     removing a STARTLING AMOUNT of MAIL.
+
+     The friendly MAILBOX GUY nods.
+
+                       MAILBOX,GUY
+             You've been gone awhile.
+
+                          MIKE
+                     (disinterested)
+             Yeah.
+
+
+15   INT. PALM COFFEE SHOP - DAY                                     15
+
+     Mike sits in a corner booth, alone. His breakfast sits
+     abandoned, runny egg yolks congealed. He sips his eighth
+     cup of coffee.
+
+     The table is spread with months of opened mail. Dozens of
+     BROCHURES for HOTELS, INNS, B & Brs. Mike flips through
+     them. Some have macabre marketing - "Spirits! Strange?” A
+     few have even Photoshopped transparent phantoms into their
+     antique­laden lobbies. Mike glances at a Post-it: "Dear Mr.
+     Enslin, please consider our Motel for your next Ghost
+     Guide."
+
+     He stares — then tosses it. He rummages through more mail:
+     A bill from a nursing home. Skeptical Enquirer magazine.
+     The Weekly World News. He slashes an envelope with his
+     fancy LETTER OPENER. Inside is a childish greeting card --
+     a cartoon tiger says "You’re Terrrrrrr-rfic! Happy
+     Birthday!”
+                                                        10.
+
+
+Mike frowns, then throws it in the trash pile. He reaches
+for a POSTCARD.
+
+INSERT - POSTCARD
+
+The back has but three scribbled words: "DON’T ENTER 1408"
+
+ON MIKE
+
+Hm. He gazes, then flips over the card. It’s a generic
+giveaway HOTEL POSTCARD'. A montage of photos: Elegant
+1920s exterior. Classy rooms. An overstuffed, lounge filled
+with smiling, attractive rich people. A scrolling font
+says: "When in New York City, visit the Dolphin Hotel!"
+
+Mike fixates on the word "New York." His face darkens, and
+he tosses the card in the junk pile.
+
+He starts to move on — when something catches his eye. He
+peers back at the card...
+
+TIGHT - POSTCARD
+
+Again, "DON'T ENTER 1408." We PUSH IN on the numbers, until
+they fill the screen. 1408... 1408...
+
+Mike thinks. He clicks a pen, then scribbles the digits as
+a math column: 2 + 4 + 0 + 8 ......... 13.
+
+A smile flickers across his face.
+
+                    MIKE
+          Cute.
+
+Mike is amused. He considers the card, then suddenly OPENS
+HIS LAPTOP COMPUTER.
+
+ANGLE - COMPUTER
+
+Mike spins the mouse, clicking "Internet." He waits
+patiently, while the green WI-FI icon scrolls. Searching...
+searching... until — "NO SIGNAL AVAILABLE"
+
+Mike groans.
+
+                    MIKE
+          Goddamn corner booth.
+
+WIDE
+                                                              11.
+
+
+     Irked, Mike grabs the computer. He JUMPS from his booth and
+     starts meandering around the coffee shop, eyeballing the
+     computer screen like a hungry hawk.
+
+     A few steps — Ah! A glimmer of green, then red.
+
+     He marches toward the door — eyes glued to the screen. The
+     DINERS shoot him looks, but he is indifferent to other
+     people.
+
+     He lifts the laptop over his head, trying different
+     positions.
+
+
+16   EXT. COFFEE SHOP - SAME TIME                                   16
+
+     Mike exits the building. Suddenly, he finds -a signal.
+
+     Ah-HA! The Internet opens, The WEB PAGE speaks:
+
+                       INTERNET LADY VOICE
+             Good morning, Mike,
+
+                       MIKE
+                  (he smiles)
+             Good morning, Fake Voice Lady!
+
+     He quickly sits on a cinderblock wall and starts EXPERTLY
+     TYPING.
+
+     INSERT - COMPUTER
+
+     Mike goes to "GOOGLE." He types in "DOLPHIN HOTEL NEW YORK"
+
+     Beat. A page of text appears. Mike clicks on a link to the
+     Dolphin. A millisecond pause — then the DOLPHIN HOTEL’S
+     stylish HOMEPAGE APPEARS. It is exactly what one would
+     expect: Chandeliers. Clinking champagne flutes. Links to
+     "SPA" "DINING" "BANQUET FACILITIES" "RESERVATIONS"...
+
+     Mike knows this is a dead end. He clicks back to "GOOGLE,"
+     then tries "DOLPHIN HOTEL GHOSTS"
+
+     The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
+
+     Mike backspaces and tries again: "DOLPHIN HOTEL
+     SUPERNATURAL"
+
+     The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
+
+     Mike backspaces and tries yet again: "DOLPHIN HOTEL
+     HAUNTING"
+                                                                12.
+
+
+     The computer responds, "NO RESULTS"
+
+     Mike stares. Unbowed, his face darkens. He tries a
+     different approach: "DOLPHIN HOTEL DEATH"
+
+     THE COMPUTER
+
+     pauses — then the SCREEN FILLS WITH ENTRIES.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     suddenly gasps, horrified.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Jesus Christ...
+
+                                                          CUT TO:
+
+
+17   INI. RESEARCH LIBRARY - DAY                                      17
+
+     Mike sits in a musty library basement scrolling through
+     MICROFICHE rolls. On the amber screen is an ancient New
+     York Herald-Tribune: The headline screams "FACTORY OWNER
+     LEAPS FROM HOTEL.” There is a portrait of a stuffy-looking
+     rich man, then underneath a gory WEEGEE-LIKE PHOTO of a
+     bloody mess on a New York, sidewalk, the cops dourly
+     cleaning up.
+
+     For the first time, Mike seems affected. Truly bothered.
+
+     Shaken, he scribbles notes on a LEGAL PAD. Under the word
+     "DOLPHIN," we see the pad is filled with items...
+
+     A spooky pause... when suddenly — RING!! It’s his
+     CELLPHONE.
+
+     Mike jumps, startled. Embarrassed by the noise, he quickly
+     answers it.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Hello?
+
+     But, nothing. Mike frowns.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Hello! This is Mike Enslin. Is
+             anybody there?
+
+     No response. Just — a faint crackling STATIC.
+
+     Mike struggles to hear — when CLICK. The line goes dead.
+                                                               13.
+
+
+     Weird. Mike looks back at his list of deaths...
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+18   INT. MIKE'S OFFICE - NIGHT                                      18
+
+     CU on a jumble of old NEWSPAPER ARTICLES. A blizzard of
+     words and headlines: "SUICIDE”... "DROWNING"...
+     "ELECTROCUTION"... "HEART ATTACK." We slowly PULL OUT,
+     revealing dozens of Dolphin articles, tacked on a
+     corkboard. A blur of photos, nasty death images and old-
+     fashioned formal portraits. The victims look like solid
+     early 20th-century citizens: A walrus-moustached man in a
+     bowler. A prim woman in round spectacles.
+
+     We CONTINUE PULLING OUT, finding Mike on a ratty couch.
+
+     Surrounded by these horrors. He holds the Dolphin POSTCARD,
+     staring. Agitated. Suddenly he downs a shot of bourbon,
+     then dials the phone number. He waits. RING. RING —
+
+                       OPERATOR (V.O.)
+             Good evening, Dolphin Hotel. How
+             may I direct your call?
+
+                       MIKE
+             Hi, I’m calling about Room 1408.
+
+     A strange pause.
+
+                       OPERATOR (V.O.)
+             I don’t believe we have such a
+             room.
+
+                       MIKE
+                  (long beat)
+             Don't you...?
+
+     Another pause.
+
+                       OPERATOR (V.O.)
+             Er, one moment, please.
+
+     Mike gets out on HOLD. Sprightly MUSIC kicks in, and a
+     RECORDED ANNOUNCEMENT.
+
+                       SMOOTH RECORDING
+             "When staying at the Dolphin, be
+             certain to enjoy New York’s finest
+             dining, at the fabled Blue Marlin
+             Restaurant on our Mezzanine lev—"
+                                                       14.
+
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+                  (cutting in)
+             May I help you?
+
+                       MIKE
+             Yes, I'd like to stay in Room 1408.
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+             That room is unavailable.
+
+     Mike raises an eyebrow.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I didn't tell you which date.
+
+     No response.
+
+                       MIKE
+             How 'bout Saturday?
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+             It’s unavailable.
+
+                          MIKE
+             Tuesday?
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+             Unavailable.
+
+                       MIKE
+                  (ticked off)
+             Next month?
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+             Unavailable.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Next summer!
+
+                         HOTEL VOICE
+                    (beat)
+                    (Thank you for calling.)
+
+     CLICK. The man HANGS UP.
+
+     Mike is stupefied.
+
+                                                   CUT TO:
+
+
+19   INT. MANHATTAN LITERARY AGENCY - DAY                    19
+                                                               15.
+
+
+     A busy New York agency with million-dollar views. SAM
+     FARRELL, a gregarious old-school gentleman agent, yells
+     out.
+
+                       SAM
+             Hey! Where's good Chinese, near
+             48th? I gotta have lunch with that
+             idiot from Random House.
+
+                       SECRETARY
+                  (on the phone, gesturing)
+             It's Mike Enslin, calling from
+             Florida again.
+
+     Sam winces. He looks around, then hails a bookish LAWYER.
+
+                       SAM
+             Clay! You got a sec' for Mike
+             Enslin?
+
+                       LAWYER
+             Uh — sure —
+
+                         SAM
+             Great.
+
+     Sam PULLS him into his leather-bound office.
+
+
+20   INT. SAM'S OFFICE                                               20
+
+     Sam slams the door and lowers his voice.
+
+                       SAM
+             Now look, this guy tends to get a
+             little morose, so try to keep the
+             energy up. Otherwise, he stews in
+             his own funk.
+
+     Sam PUNCHES his speakerphone,
+
+                         SAM
+             Mike!!!
+
+                         MIKE (V.O.)
+             Sam —
+
+                       SAM
+             Read the first five chapters last
+             night. Spooky shit. Couldn’t sleep
+             a wink. It's gonna make a bundle —
+
+                         MIKE (V.O.)
+                                                           16.
+
+
+        So did you -—
+
+                  SAM
+        You better believe I did! And I got
+        our top lawyer here right now!
+             (he winks)
+        Mike, Clay. Clay, Mike. Mike, talk
+        fast. This guy's $400 an hour.
+
+                  MIKE (V.O.)
+        So, about the Dolphin —
+
+                   SAM
+        Yes, the Dolphin! That stick-up-
+        its-ass relic on 61st. Too posh for
+        a free plug! Well, you're gonna
+        LOVE what Clay cooked up: He dug
+        around and found you a Federal
+        Civil Rights law! Ain’t that a
+        hoot?
+              (he chuckles)
+        Like somebody would discriminate
+        against you: A well-to-do white
+        man!
+              (amused)
+        But the law’s the law: If the
+        room's not occupied, they have to
+        give it to you.
+
+                  MIKE (V.O.)
+        Good.
+
+                  CLAY
+        So we'll book it, and if they
+        refuse, we'll rattle our saber and
+        file suit.
+
+A pause. Sam turns quiet, leaning into the speakerphone.
+
+                  SAM
+        But Mike... on a more personal
+        note: Are you really sure you want
+        to come here?
+
+                  MIKE (V.CA)
+             (tentative)
+        S-sure. It'll make a solid closing
+        chapter for the —
+
+                  SAM
+        Yeah yeah. I know the routine.
+             (sincere)
+                                                              17.
+
+
+             But seriously... buddy. It's New
+             York. All that happened...
+                  (pause)
+             Do you really want to put yourself
+             through that...?
+
+                                                       INTERCUT:
+
+     CLOSEUP - MIKE
+
+     His face clouds. He considers his past, then whispers.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I'll be quick. And it's a different
+             part of town...
+
+                       SAM
+             Are you gonna call Lily?
+
+                       MIKE
+             N-no. It's a job.
+                  (his voice cracks)
+             I’ll be in, and out.
+
+     We hold on Mike, brimming with uncertainty...
+
+     Then — a loud SHRIEEEEEKI
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+21   EXT. SKY - DAY                                                 21
+
+     An A.IRPLANE descends into New York.
+
+
+22   INT. AIRPLANE - DAY                                            22
+
+     Mike looks out the window. The grid of New York is below,
+     neatly geometric. Until — the plane suddenly banks,
+     swooping in. The whole view spins.
+
+     Mike recoils, nauseated.
+
+
+23   EXT. NEW YORK - DAY                                            23
+
+     Blackness. Then — a TAXI emerges into the light, We’ve been
+     looking into the Holland Tunnel.
+
+
+24   INT. CAB - DRIVING                                             24
+                                                               18.
+
+
+     A carved crucifix swings from the mirror.
+
+     Mike rides in back. Face wan. New York's a jumble. He peers
+     about — everything seems discordant. Canal Street is a
+     collection of unsettling images:
+
+     Smoke curls from a grate. It clears, revealing a MAN lying
+     motionless on the sidewalk.
+
+     Sparks arc inside an open factory door.
+
+     A snarling DOG barks behind bars.
+
+     Seafood decomposes in a fish market.
+
+     The CABBIE HONKS furiously at the congestion.
+
+                       CABBIE
+             This traffic's a fuckin’ nightmare.
+             I'm gonna cut up Eighth.
+
+                       MIKE
+                  (woozy)
+             N-no. Please. Don’t go that way...
+             Canal's fine...
+
+                       CABBIE
+             Just lemme drive.
+
+     The Cabbie hooks left.
+
+     Mike blanches in back. The cab drives uptown, and the sense
+     of DREAD grows. Crumbling buildings block out the sun. Mike
+     grimaces, anxious. Knowing something is approaching...
+
+     OUT THE WINDOW
+
+     An old brick school comes into view. On the PLAYGROUND,
+     CHILDREN RUN AROUND.
+
+     Mike shudders. Distraught, he averts his eyes.
+
+                                                           CUT TO:
+
+
+25   EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - NIGHT                                      25
+
+     A sumptuous refugee from the Jazz Age, A STATUE OF A
+     SMILING DOLPHIN dominates the portal. It leers a happy
+     greeting.
+
+     Mike's cab arrives. He gets out, carrying a duffel.
+                                                               19.
+
+
+26   INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - NIGHT                                      26
+
+     Swanky and archaic, but beautifully maintained. The last
+     time it was hip, Dorothy Parker got drunk in the coatroom.
+
+     The DOORMAN opens the door for Mike. Mike's sweating, his
+     usual insouciance rattled. He glances around the small
+     lobby: On the mezzanine, a PIANIST plays Gershwin. Chic
+     GUESTS in evening wear cavort. A RICH"OLD COUPLE walks a
+     poodle. A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN in a gown casually breastfeeds a
+     baby.
+
+     Mike goes up to Reception. The DESK CLERK smiles formally.
+
+                       DESK CLERK
+             Welcome to the Dolphin, sir. Are
+             you checking in?
+
+                       MIKE
+             Yes. Mike Enslin, staying for one
+             night.
+
+     Hmphh? The Desk Clerk suddenly tightens up, awkward.
+
+                       DESK CLERK
+             Uh... could you excuse me one
+             moment?
+
+     She hurries off. Mike raises an eyebrow.
+
+     We follow the Clerk as she scurries down the counter. She
+     reaches a rigid ASSISTANT MANAGER and whispers. He listens,
+     giving Mike a discreet glance. The Assistant Manager
+     whispers something back, then rushes out a rear door.
+
+     Beat
+
+     Mike waits. Biding his time...
+
+     Pause — then the rear door opens, and out   glides the
+     Manager, MR. OLIN. Olin, 60, is a precise   man of European
+     air, his" tailored suit, carefully-parted   hair and
+     manicured nails only made bearable by his   clipped dry wit.
+
+     TIGHT - OLIN
+
+     He nods professionally and extends his hand.
+
+                       OLIN
+                                                             20.
+
+
+             Mr. Enslin, I’m Gerald Olin, the
+             manager of the Dolphin. If there’s
+             any way I can be of assistance
+             while you’re here — dinner
+             reservations, theater, anything at
+             all — please know that I’m
+             delighted to be at your service.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Uh, that's great.
+                  (chirpy)
+             If I can just get my key to 1408,
+             I'll stay out of your hair.
+
+     Beat. Olin’s eyes narrow.
+
+                       OLIN
+             You wouldn't prefer an upgrade? An
+             executive suite with complimentary
+             breakfast?
+
+                       MIKE
+                  (hostile)
+             1408, please.
+
+                       OLIN
+             So insistent.
+                  (his voice lowers)
+             Mr. Enslin, could you humor me with
+             a more... private conversation?
+
+
+27   INT. OLIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT                                    27
+
+     An impeccable Edwardian study. Oak paneling. Fine books. An
+     antique desk with a lozenge-shaped green lamp.
+
+     Olin opens a humidor.
+
+                       OLIN
+             Cigar?
+
+                       MIKE
+             No, thank you. I don’t smoke.
+
+     Olin's eyes shift to the cigarette behind Mike's ear. Mike
+     sees this.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I quit years ago.
+                  (he starts to explain)
+                                                        21.
+
+
+        The cigarette behind the ear is...
+        I dunno. Habit. Part affectation,
+        part superstition. A writer thing.
+
+                  OLIN
+        Well, then, do you drink?
+
+                  MIKE
+        Of course! I just said I'm a
+        writer.
+
+Olin smiles thinly. He opens a liquor cabinet and removes a
+fine BOTTLE OF COGNAC.
+
+                  OLIN
+        Remy 1939. Exquisite, Runs about
+        $800 a bottle, when you can find it
+        —
+
+                  MIKE
+             (he raises his hand)
+        I appreciate the bribe, but I
+        intend to stay in that room.
+
+                  OLIN
+             (put off)
+        How long?
+
+                  MIKE
+        How long? Er, my usual is
+        overnight.
+
+                   OLIN
+        Oh. I see.
+              (he purses his lips)
+        Nobody has ever lasted more than an
+        hour.
+
+Mike takes this in, then cracks up, PARODYING Olin with a
+silly Transylvania accent.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Oooo! Bleh! "Nobody has ever lasted
+        more than an hour. When the clouds
+        pass over the moon, the spirits
+        rise from the family graveyard to
+        haunt the ballroom. "
+
+Olin stares, unamused.
+
+                  OLIN
+                                                        22.
+
+
+        I don’t know why you’re mocking me.
+        I am genuinely, to the best of my
+        ability, trying to help you.
+
+                  MIKE
+        No, you're just playing a little
+        game, which frankly I find
+        tiresome, You're "selling the
+        mystique." But eventually, we both
+        know you’ll give me the key, I’ll
+        write my story, and your bookings
+        will go up 50%.
+
+Olin is repelled. Mike smirks and pulls out his mini-
+recorder.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Do you mind if I record our
+        conversation ?
+             (he waits; beat)
+        Good. I'll take that as a yes.
+
+Mike hits "RECORD.” The LED glows red, like an eye, and the
+little wheels start spinning...
+
+Olin glares, his politeness fading.
+
+                   OLIN
+        Sir, you completely misunderstand
+        the situation. The Dolphin may not
+        have the cachet of the Plaza or the
+        Carlyle... but we run 90%
+        occupancy.
+              (emphatic)
+        This isn't about my concern for the
+        hotel, OR about my concern for you.
+        Frankly -- selfishly --- I don’t
+        want you to enter 1408, because I
+        don’t want to have to clean up the
+        mess.
+
+Olin lets this chilling thought hang.
+
+Mike’s eyes widen.
+
+                  OLIN
+        Hotels are all about presentation
+        and creature comforts.., though
+        behind the scenes, we witness quite
+        the bit of nastiness.
+             (heavy)
+                                                       23.
+
+
+        But my training is as a manager,
+        not a coroner! Under my watch there
+        have been four deaths. Four! After
+        the last one, I said enough. I
+        forbade any guests from ever
+        entering again.
+
+                  MIKE
+        And that last suicide was...
+        Randolph Hyde? 1996? An
+        orthodontist who slit his wrists
+        and cut off his genitals?
+
+                  OLIN
+        Yes. You've done your homework.
+        Grievously, since the hotel opened
+        95 years ago, there have been seven
+        jumpers, four overdoses, five
+        hangings, three m --
+
+                  MIKE
+        Three mutilations. Two stranglings
+             (into the MINIRECORDER)
+        "Manager Gerald Olin is well-versed
+        in the hotel's tragic history,
+        dryly reciting the docket of
+        carnage like a bookkeeper
+        discussing his ledger.”
+
+                  OLIN
+             (he frowns)
+        You think you're clever?! Well in
+        your investigation, did you
+        discover the twenty-two natural
+        deaths?
+
+Mike leans forward, interest piqued.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "Natural"? Uh, no. What —
+
+                  OLIN
+        You didn’t find them, because
+        they're not reported in newspapers.
+        But all told, 56 people have, died
+        up there.
+
+Mike is momentarily speechless.
+
+Olin pulls out a small key and opens his desk bottom
+drawer.
+                                                          24.
+
+
+He removes a BULGING FILE and brings it around to Mike.
+Olin stares a moment —- then sits next to him.
+
+                  OLIN
+        You know nothing. 1408's guests
+        have died of heart attacks,
+        strokes, drownings —
+
+                  MIKE
+        "Drownings"?
+
+                  OLIN
+        Yes. Mr. Grady Miller died drowning
+        in a bowl of chicken soup.
+
+                  MIKE
+             (taken aback)
+        H-how?
+
+                  OLIN
+        How indeed? Isn't that interesting?
+        Well, it's all in the file:
+             (he PATS the folder)
+        And you're welcome to read all of
+        it. Every word! I'll even give you
+        my office! You can peruse the
+        materials to your heart's content.
+        You can take notes. Put it all in
+        your book!
+             (pause; he turns somber)
+        In return, my only condition... is
+        that you don't stay in the room.
+
+Mike eyeballs the file.
+
+Considering. Then —
+
+                  MIKE
+        I never got that drink.
+
+Olin smiles a flicker, then gets up for the Cognac. He
+takes out a crystal snifter, wipes it clean, carefully
+pours...
+
+Mike notices a silver DESK FRAME. He furtively cranes
+around... to check out who's in it. And — it’s a calendar.
+
+Olin hands Mika the drink. Mike gratefully snorts it,
+enjoying the flavor, the spreading warmth. Then, he looks
+up.
+
+                  MIKE
+        No.
+                                                        25.
+
+
+                  OLIN
+        Dammit to HELL!
+
+Olin BLOWS UP and angrily THROWS the file at Mike.
+
+                  OLIN
+        Fine! READ the blasted file! Read
+        it anyway!
+             (livid)
+        Once you see it, you won't WANT to
+        go in the room!
+
+Mike is stunned at this outburst. Hesitant, he opens the
+TOP FOLDER. Inside is a pile of wrinkled yellow newsprint.
+Olin testily narrates from memory.
+
+                  OLIN
+        The first victim! Kevin O'Malley. A
+        sewing machine salesman who checked
+        into the hotel opening week,
+        October 1912!
+
+                  MIKE
+             (he winces at the photo)
+        He... cut his own throat?
+
+                  OLIN
+        Yes. But that's not the horrific
+        part. Afterward, in a fit of
+        insanity, he tried to stitch
+        himself back up with a sewing
+        needle before he bled to death.
+
+Mike makes a face.
+
+                     MIKE
+        Jesus...
+
+                  OLIN
+        Mr. Enslin! No one needs to know
+        you didn't go in. I’ll give you a
+        fake receipt1 You can take
+        photographs in 1404: The layouts
+        are identical, nobody will know the
+        difference.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Hey, my readers expect the truth —
+
+                  OLIN
+        No, your readers don’t expect much
+        of anything — except grotesquerie
+        and cheap thrills:
+                                              26.
+
+
+             (snide, from memory)
+        "The headless ghost of Eugene
+        Rilsby, forever walking his
+        deserted farmhouse. The Barking
+        Phantom of Mount Hope Cemetery "
+
+                  MIKE
+             (surprised)
+        How do you know that?!
+
+                  OLIN
+        I've done my own research! Your
+        books are easy to find — in the
+        cheap paperback section.
+             (beat)
+        And they are completely cynical.
+        The work of a talented, intelligent
+        man who doesn't believe in anything
+        but himself.
+
+Mike reacts, pissed.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Where the fuck do you get off
+             (hurt)
+        This meeting's over —
+
+                  OLIN
+        Oh please. Quit acting like a sore
+        schoolgirl.
+             (calming)
+        I said you were talented. There was
+        that first book... I -— I rather
+        enjoyed that. It was popular.
+        Hardback. Er... what was it called?
+        "The Road To Nowhere" --?
+
+                  MIKE
+             (uneasy)
+        "The Road Back Nowhere."
+
+                  OLIN
+        That was sort of... a gilded
+        memoir? Travels of a young man -—
+
+                  MIKE
+             (defensive)
+        Only parts of it were true -—
+
+                  OLIN
+        The father seemed like a real
+        s.o.b. —
+                                                             27.
+
+
+     Mike seethes. He hits "STOP” on the recorder. He jumps up.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Give me my key.
+
+                       OLIN
+             Mr. Enslin --
+
+                       MIKE
+             Give me my key! Do you know why I
+             can walk into any spooky old room?
+             Because I know that ghoulies and
+             ghosties don’t exist.
+                  (dark)
+             And that’s good, because I also
+             know there's no God to protect us
+             from them, if they did.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+28   INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - NIGHT                                    28
+
+     Behind Reception, a wall of old-fashioned mail slots. Olin
+     carries over a little stool. He steps up to 1408's mailbox,
+     reaching his hand far... far back into the shadowy recess,
+
+     He fiddles around, then pulls out a TARNISHED KEY on a long
+     brass paddle. Embossed are the numbers 1408.
+
+     Mike reacts, surprised.
+
+                       MIKE
+             You still use actual keys? That's a
+             nice touch. Antiquey.
+                  (beat)
+             Most hotels use magnetic cards.
+
+                       OLIN
+             So do we. 1408 is the exception.
+                  (beat)
+             Electronic devices don't work
+             properly in there. Computers...
+             cellphones... wristwatches ...
+                  (pause)
+             You don't happen to have a
+             pacemaker, do you, Mr. Enslin?
+
+     Mike shoots him a look. He speaks into his mini-recorder.
+
+                       MIKE
+             "Manager claims phantom in room
+             interferes with
+                                                                28.
+
+
+                       OLIN
+             I didn't say "phantom,"
+
+                       MIKE
+             Uh, "spirit." "Specter."
+
+                       OLIN
+             You misunderstand. What’s in 1408
+             isn't that kind of presence.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Then what is it?
+
+     WIDE
+
+     Olin pads away. He crosses the rococo lobby, guiding Mike
+     to the ELEVATOR. He presses "UP,” then turns and whispers.
+
+                       OLIN
+             It's an evil fucking room.
+
+     Mike's eyebrows raise.
+
+     DING! The elevator arrives. The shimmery doors open.
+
+     Olin gestures: After you. Mike enters. Olin starts to
+     follow — when a MAITRE'D in a tux comes running over. He
+     interrupts Olin and quickly MUTTERS something in French.
+     Olin nods and MUTTERS back. He scribbles his signature on a
+     form. The Maitre'd bows and runs off.
+
+
+29   INT. ELEVATOR - SAME TIME                                        29
+
+     Olin enters. It's an old-fashioned cage. Olin hits "14,"
+     and the doors rattle closed. They stand in silence.
+
+                       OLIN
+             Do you enjoy traveling alone?
+
+     Mike ignores this. He stares at the panel: Rows of BUTTONS,
+     with the customary lie: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12... 14 15
+     16
+
+                       MIKE
+             Why do hotels think they can just
+             make the number 13 disappear?
+
+     Olin chuckles. They lurch upward, lights ticking:
+     5...6...7...
+
+                       MIKE
+                                                             29.
+
+
+             How filthy's the room? The sheets
+             haven't been changed in a decade.
+
+                       OLIN
+             No, no, no. This is a professional
+             establishment. Our maids give 1408
+             a light turn once a month.
+                  (beat)
+             But I supervise, and they work in
+             pairs. We treat the room as a
+             chamber filled with poison gas. We
+             stay only ten minutes, and I insist
+             the door be kept open.
+
+     Olin's face tightens, regretful.
+
+                       OLIN
+             Even then... last year, a young
+             maid from El Salvador found herself
+             locked in the bathroom. Just for a
+             moment. When we pulled her out, she
+             was —
+
+                       MIKE
+             Dead?
+
+     Olin stares.
+
+                       OLIN
+             No. Blind. She had taken a pair of
+             scissors and carved out her eyes.
+
+     DING’ The elevator hits 14. The doors open.
+
+
+30   INT. 14TH FLOOR - SAME TIME                                   30
+
+     Mike peers out. It's a perfectly uneventful corridor — red-
+     and-gold carpet, drab end tables, old-tyme light fixtures.
+
+                       OLIN
+             Your floor.
+
+     Mike waits for Olin to take a step — but the man is
+     immobile.
+
+                       OLIN
+             I'm afraid this is as far as I go.
+             The room is at the end of the hall
+             to the right.
+
+     Mike nods, a tad apprehensive. He exits — on legs that seem
+     heavier. Mike takes a few steps, then turns.
+                                                           30.
+
+
+AT THE END
+
+Olin stands framed in the elevator, an ordinary man in a
+plain suit. Hands clasped, face withdrawn, he sighs.
+
+                  OLIN
+        Good luck.
+
+Olin pulls out the bottle of Cognac and tosses it.
+Startled, Mike catches it. He starts to respond — but the
+doors SHUT.
+
+Olin is gone.
+
+is now alone. He hoists his duffel, then walks slowly down
+the hushed hallway. Past 1401... 1402...
+
+Mike examines Olin's file.
+
+INSERT - FILE
+
+A grisly PHOTOGRAPH marked "KEVIN O'MALLEY." He lies dead
+in the bathtub. His eyes are wide, his throat gashed open,
+a sewing needle protruding from raw flesh.
+
+MIKE
+
+grimaces. He walks past 1404... past a moldering room
+service tray. On the plate are remains of a beef burger
+soaked in red ketchup. A fly buzzes...
+
+INSERT - FILE
+
+Back to the photos. Mike flips to a nasty half-covered BODY
+in bed. The sheets are soaked.
+
+IN THE HALL
+
+Mike is getting rattled. He makes a turn. 1406 goes by...
+1407... wood-paneled doors and elegant wallpaper...
+
+Mike finds a scratched NOTE on hotel stationery.
+
+INSERT - FILE
+
+Frantic writing: "My brother was eaten by wolves on the
+Connecticut Turnpike”
+
+IN THE HALL
+
+Mike stops, considering this oddity.
+                                                         31.
+
+
+He looks up — and realizes he's in front of 1401.
+
+Huh?
+
+Mike looks around, confused. Somehow, he's back at the
+elevator.
+
+                     MIKE
+           What the fuck?
+
+Mike slowly shakes his head. Then, he packs up the file and
+marches away. Pay attention!
+
+WIDE
+
+Mike watches the numbers go by. Get to that room! 2, 3, 4,
+5, 6, 7. He swings around a corner. And there, unassuming
+and anonymous, is 1408.
+
+Finally.
+
+Mike pulls out his brass KEY. He starts to insert it —
+when, he's startled by WHIMPERING.
+
+AT THE NEXT ROOM
+
+is a YOUNG MOTHER turned away from us. She holds a sobbing
+BABY* She fumbles with her mag card, then disappears
+inside.
+
+BACK ON MIKE AT THE DOOR
+
+Okay. He takes a breath, then inserts the key in the lock.
+
+MICRO-CLOSEUP - INSIDE THE LOCK
+
+The vintage mechanism looks like a GIGANTIC DARK CHAMBER,
+filled with crazy angles of cold steel.
+
+The key enters like a medieval battering ram. It slowly
+turns. The tumblers RUMBLE with echoing CLINKS and CRICKS.
+
+The sound rises ominously LOUD...
+
+BACK TO MIKE - NORMAL PERSPECTIVE
+
+And, the sound becomes a teeny CLICK.
+
+The door unlocks.
+
+Inside the next room, the Young Mother's VOICE leaks out:
+                                                             32.
+
+
+                        YOUNG MOTHER (O.S.)
+                   (singing softly)
+              "Mama loves her baby, baby,
+              baby..."
+
+     The knot in Mike's stomach grows.
+
+     He grips the doorknob. He lifts up his recorder.
+
+                        MIKE
+              "It's 7:52 p.m., and I'm about to
+              enter Room 1408 of the Dolphin
+              Hotel. If something happens to me,
+              I, Michael Enslin, being of sound
+              mind, do hereby leave all my
+              earthly belongings, and whatnot to
+              my ex-wife Lily."
+
+     He hits STOP.
+
+     Then, he slowly turns the knob —
+
+     The tension builds —
+
+     The wooden door opens —
+
+     And...
+
+
+31   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                         31
+
+     It's — just a hotel room.
+
+     A two-room suite, pleasant and banal. Pastel sitting area,
+     beige carpet, forgettable furniture.
+
+     Mike sees this — and gasps, relieved. He starts LAUGHING.
+
+                        MIKE
+              That1s it?
+                   (he LAUGHS harder)
+              That's friggin' IT?
+
+     Astonished, he enters and throws his stuff down. He
+     defiantly SLAMS the door shut and SHOUTS.
+
+                        MIKE
+              All right, Olin!! You win Round
+              One!
+                   (annoyed with himself)
+                                                               33.
+
+
+             You had me goin'! Where's the
+             spiderwebs, the lightning, the
+             river of blood?! This is just... a
+             room!
+
+     Mike gives himself a tour.
+
+     There's a couch. A coffee table. A   desk with various items:
+     A fax machine. A glass ashtray. An   old-fashioned rotary
+     telephone. A book of matches, with   a Norman Rockwellish
+     sketch of a smiling Doorman at the   hotel.
+
+     On the wall are three framed paintings. In the carpet below
+     is a water stain.
+
+     The wall THERMOSTAT says 80. Mike clicks the "down" arrow.
+
+
+32   INT. BEDROOM                                                    32
+
+     There's a queen-size bed with fluffy pillows. A TV. A
+     nightstand Bible. Mike picks it up... then tosses it aside.
+
+
+33   INT. BATHROOM                                                   33
+
+     Mike flicks on the bathroom lights. It’s bright and
+     sparkling — a pleasing glow of luxury.
+
+     There's a tub. A bidet. Baskets of soap.
+
+     The toilet paper roll is folded in a fancy little triangle.
+
+     Mike tears off a sheet and wipes his nose.
+
+
+34   INT. LIVING ROOM                                                34
+
+     Mike opens an armoire and finds the MINI-BAR. , He peruses
+     the sodas, booze and chips. He glances at the price sheet.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Eight dollars for Corn-Nuts? This
+             is an evil fucking room.
+
+                                                           CUT TO:
+
+
+35   INT. BEDROOM - LATER                                            35
+
+     Mike lies on the made bed, eating Corn-Nuts and swigging
+     Olin’s Cognac. He narrates into his recorder, from memory:
+                                                           34.
+
+
+                  MIKE
+        "The living room has two chairs, a
+        sofa, a writing desk, and a faux-
+        antique armoire. The carpet is
+        beige and unremarkable, except for
+        a stain beneath a thrift-store
+        painting of a sailing ship."
+
+TIGHT - THE PAINTING
+
+We FOCUS ON the painting, as Mike describes it from memory.
+
+                  MIKE (O.S.)
+        "The work is executed in the always
+        dull Currier & Ives fashion —
+        sailors on a white schooner."
+
+We MOVE TO the SECOND PAINTING — an old lady in a rocking
+chair.
+
+                  MIKE (O.S.)
+        "The second painting is an old
+        woman, a la Whistler's mother,
+        smiling down as small children play
+        at her feet."
+
+We MOVE TO the THIRD PAINTING — a British hunting scene.
+
+                  MIKE (O.S.)
+        "The third and final, painfully-
+        dull painting is the ever popular
+        "The Hunt" — horses, hounds, and
+        constipated British lords.
+             (beat)
+        "These paintings have been here a
+        long time. If I lifted them, I'm
+        sure I'd see light patches. Or
+        squirming bugs like when you turn
+        over a rock."
+
+BACK ON MIKE
+
+                  MIKE
+        "The bedroom has a queen-size bed,
+        two nightstands, and butterfly
+        wallpaper.
+             (beat)
+        "Some smartass spoke of the
+        banality of evil. If that’s so,
+        then we've entered the seventh ring
+        of Hell."
+
+Mike gets up and walks to the window. He opens the drapes.
+                                                                35.
+
+
+     OUTSIDE, another building completely fills the view. Below
+     are cars and a huge lit-up BANK CLOCK. Mike opens the paned
+     window. TRAFFIC NOISE rises in.
+
+                         MIKE
+               "The panorama is a typical cramped
+               New York view of nothing: A gray
+               building, and honking traffic
+               below,"
+
+     The clock outside clicks from 7:59 to 8:00 PM.
+
+     Suddenly, LOUD MUSIC.
+
+     Mike jumps, startled.
+
+
+36   BEHIND HIM                                                       36
+
+     The clock RADIO has gone off. The CARPENTERS sing:
+
+                         THE CARPENTERS (O.S.)
+                    (singing)
+               We’ve only just begun"
+
+     Mike laughs. He turns it OFF, flicking the alarm switch.
+
+                          MIKE
+               Silly,..
+
+     Mike turns — then suddenly freezes.
+
+     THE BED
+
+     is turned down. The sheet is folded, and there are little
+     mint chocolates on the pillows.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     gapes, stupefied.
+
+                         MIKE
+               Holy shiiit!
+
+     Mike blinks, as if this will make the mints disappear.
+
+     But they don't.
+
+     He strolls over and picks up a mint. He peers...
+
+                          MIKE
+                                                        36.
+
+
+        Bravo, Olin. That is VERY
+        unsettling.
+
+Mike opens the candy, then EATS it. He thinks, his wheels
+spinning. Until he suddenly stops, mid-chew.
+
+                  MIKE
+        That means someone’s in the room..!
+
+Mike whirls.
+
+WIDE
+
+Emboldened, Mike RUNS to the CLOSET. He slams open the door
+and — it's empty.
+
+Hm. Mike looks around. Ah! Suddenly he drops to his knees
+and peers under the BED. Buz... there’s nothing.
+
+Hm! Mike thinks. He bolts into the bathroom. He grabs the
+shower curtain, takes a breath, then YANKS it aside.
+
+And — nobody. Huh?!
+
+Mike wracks his mind. Tantalized.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Come out, come out...
+
+Detective-like, he starts RAPPING on the drywall.
+
+RAP! RAP RAP!
+
+He RAPS his way toward the door... when... something
+catches his eye.
+
+TIGHT - TOILET PAPER
+
+The toilet paper roll has returned to its original state.
+
+Once again, it has a folded triangle.
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+His eyes bulge.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Whoa. Bizarre.
+             (beat)
+        A ghost that offers turndown
+        service.
+                                                               37.
+
+
+     He gawks at it. Then, he pulls out his recorder, CLICK!
+
+                       MIKE
+             "Okay, let’s Encyclopedia Brown
+             this fucker. I was facing the
+             window. Then I saw the mints, ran
+             to the closet which would leave
+             time for Houdini to get in the
+             bathroom, do the paper trick —
+                  (he stops)
+             "No, I would've seen him —
+                  (beat)
+             "No. Unless he started in the
+             bathroom, so when I turned my back,
+             he did the mints and escaped
+             into... the living room!"
+
+     Mike barrels into the
+
+
+37   INT. LIVING ROOM                                                37
+
+     He lopes around — searching... searching. Until, he spots -
+     the AIR VENT up in the ceiling.
+
+     Ah! Mike runs up — and thinks he sees movement inside.
+
+     Or, does he?
+
+     He stands on his tiptoes and SHOUTS up into it.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Hellooo! -Hello, asshole! You're
+             gonna have to try harder!
+                  (he smirks)
+             Nice and HOT up there??
+
+     Mike wipes his brow. He realizes he's sweating.
+
+     Mike runs to the THERMOSTAT and checks it. It’s now 84.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Oh, for God's sake.
+
+     Mike pushes the "down" arrow again. Nothing. He BANGS it.
+
+     Irked, he grabs the clunky telephone, peers at the archaic
+     dial, then sticks his finger in the hole and dials "O."
+
+     It spins. Click-click-click-click-click. Then —
+
+                        MIKE
+                                                           38.
+
+
+        Hello! This is Mr. Enslin in Room
+        1408.
+
+                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
+        Good evening. Are you ready to
+        check out?
+
+                  MIKE
+        "Check out"?!
+             (he chuckles mordantly)
+        Why would I do that, when there a
+        such wonderful maid service?
+             (beat)
+        And so discreet!
+             (beat)
+        No, I just need someone to fix my
+        thermostat. This room's on fire.
+
+                  OPERATOR (V.O.)
+        Of course, sir. We'll send an
+        engineer right up.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Thanks.
+
+Mike hangs up.
+
+Beat. Through the wall, the baby CRIES. Waaah! Waaah...!
+
+Mike considers it all. He sits on the sofa, then starts his
+recorder.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "Hotel rooms are naturally creepy.
+        I mean, how many people have slept
+        in that bed before you? How many
+        were sick? How many lost their
+        minds?
+             (beat)
+        "How many died?"
+
+Mike thinks. He unzips his duffel, slides over his LAPTOP,
+and carefully removes a small EQUIPMENT CASE. Inside is
+assorted gear: An EMF meter, microphones, a UV black light.
+
+ACROSS THE ROOM
+
+Mike dims the room. Then, he turns on the UV light. It
+HUMS, emitting a weird blue glow. He holds the tube over
+the carpet stain, and it GLOWS, vivid and brackish.
+                                                          39.
+
+
+Hm. Mike waves the UV light around the room. Things are
+revealed, the past becoming otherworldly and
+phosphorescent:
+
+Spatters on the drapes.
+
+Multicolored blotches on the couch.
+
+Drips across the walls.
+
+Soiled puddles in the bed.
+
+MIKE
+
+is repelled. Ugh. He feels sick.
+
+Unable to bear any more, he FLICKS ON the lights.
+
+Normalcy is restored. Mike rubs his eyes, then returns to
+the living room. He glances at
+
+THE THREE PAINTINGS
+
+Which are... askew. Just slightly... tilted.
+
+The ship’s crooked horizon is unpleasantly vivid...
+
+CU - MIKE
+
+A strange, sealike sensation. He staggers, a bit nauseous.
+
+A SOUND of pounding waves. The painted water seems real...
+
+Mike is losing his equilibrium.
+
+                  MIKE
+        God, I feel like I smoked some
+        cheap dope!
+
+He straightens the three paintings, then turns away.
+
+Mike takes a step — then — suddenly gets a look.
+
+He spins!
+
+The paintings are still straight.
+
+Hm. Mike queasily sits, putting his head between his legs.
+
+Overheated, he fumbles for his recorder,
+
+                  MIKE
+                                                           40.
+
+
+           What did Olin say?
+                (dizzy)
+           Something about poison gas...?
+
+A woozy, unclear contemplation.... when — BZZZZ!
+
+WIDE
+
+Mike jerks. BZZZZZ! It’s the door, He pops from his trance.
+
+                     MIKE
+           W-who is it??
+
+                     GRUFF VOICE
+           Engineering. You got a problem with
+           your heat?
+
+Mike scurries to the door. He peers through the EYEHOLD.
+
+DISTORTED POV
+
+Through the glass, a hairy New York ENGINEER in overalls.
+
+BACK ON MIKE
+
+Good enough. He goes to open the door. He pulls — and it’s
+stuck. It won't budge.
+
+Mike struggles with the handle.
+
+                     MIKE
+           The door’s stuck! Can you give it a
+           shove?
+
+                     GRUFF VOICE
+                (beat)
+           I ain’t touching it.
+
+Mike reacts, irritated. He tugs harder, wrenching with all
+his might — when, it suddenly releases and SLAMS open. BAM!
+
+Mike tumbles, off-balance.
+
+THE DOOR
+
+opens wide. Revealed is the ENGINEER, a huge, heavyset man.
+
+He carries a steel toolbox.
+
+                     ENGINEER
+           Is it too hot or too cold?
+                                                           41.
+
+
+                  MIKE
+        Oh, it’s definitely too hot. C’mon
+        in. The box is right here —
+
+Mike strides over to the thermostat. He starts to gesture
+to the panel — when he realizes — he's... alone.
+
+Confused, Mike turns.
+
+The guy is still standing in the doorway.
+
+Mike gestures again, for emphasis.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I said... the box is here.
+
+                  ENGINEER
+        know where the fuck it is. But I
+        ain’t going in that room.
+
+What! Mike glowers, put-out.
+
+                  MIKE
+        You just have to walk seven or
+        eight feet —
+
+                  ENGINEER
+        I said I’m not goin’ in! You know
+        what happened in there?
+
+                  MIKE
+        Yes, I'm quite aware -—
+
+                  ENGINEER
+        Look, I'll talk you through it. Any
+        jackass can fix that thing.
+             (beat)
+        Just remove the panel.
+
+The Engineer waits, feet planted.
+
+Mike stares in disbelief. Then, beaten, he pulls off the
+thermostat PANEL. Inside are springs and levers.
+
+                  ENGINEER
+        Okay. Now -- inside, you see a
+        coil?
+
+                  MIKE
+        Yes.
+
+                  ENGINEER
+                                                               42.
+
+
+             Good. Now above that coil is a
+             little tube filled with mercury.
+             That's supposed to activate the
+             contact switch, but this hotel's so
+             old, half the shit don't work.
+                  (beat)
+             Just give the tube a little tap.
+
+     Mike glares, unsure.
+
+                       ENGINEER
+             Just tap the thing!
+
+     Mike relents. He FLICKS the tube. The mercury suddenly
+     emits a blue SPARK, then rolls downward.
+
+     The system CHURNS, then the air-conditioning BLOWS on. Mike
+     smiles t relieved.
+
+                       MIKE
+             You're a genius. Let me get you a
+             tip —
+
+     Mike turns to thank the man — and he’s GONE.
+
+     Huh? Bewildered, Mike runs to the door. He peers out.
+
+     HIS POV - DOWN THE CORRIDOR
+
+     The hall is empty. The elevator doors glide closed.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     frowns. Odd...
+
+     A discombobulated beat, then he pulls his head back in.
+
+     Haltingly, he shuts the door.
+
+
+38   INT. ROOM                                                       38
+
+     Mike's alone. He paces about , convincing himself he’s
+     okay...
+
+     When — sudden jarring MUSIC.
+
+                       THE CARPENTERS (0.S.)
+             "We’ve only just begun..."
+
+     Mike whirls! The CLOCK RADIO has turned back on.
+                                                           43.
+
+
+                     THE CARPENTERS (0.S.)
+           “To live..."
+
+                     MIKE
+           Christ, you again!?
+
+AT THE RADIO
+
+Mike marches over. He once again CLICKS OFF the radio.
+
+The digital clock flickers, then switches to "60:00."
+
+Suddenly, it starts counting backward: "59:59... 59:58..."
+
+Mike leans closer, mesmerized. "59:55... 59:54..."
+
+CLOSEUP - MIKE
+
+A dawning awareness. Slowly, he gulps.
+
+In his mind, he remembers Olin's warning from before...
+
+                     OLIN'S VOICE
+           "Nobody has ever lasted longer than
+           an hour..."
+
+Hm. Mike glances worriedly at the clock ticking down.
+
+Silence.
+
+He realizes something odd. The SILENCE is ABSOLUTE. The
+traffic noise is gone.
+
+Perplexed, Mike walks to the window. He sticks his head
+out.
+
+OUTSIDE
+
+It looks exactly as before, The New York street is filled
+with a crush of traffic, buses, people, Except,
+disconcertingly, there is literally no sound,
+
+Mike can't hear anything. It's as if we're watching a TV
+show with the volume turned off.
+
+A fire engine races by, lights flashing. Dead silent.
+
+MIKE
+
+is confounded. The lack of noise is highly disturbing. He
+stares, then pulls his head in...
+                                                               44.
+
+
+     When CRASH! The WINDOW VIOLENTLY SLAMS DOWN on MIKE'S HAND!
+
+                       MIKE
+             AAAGGHHHHH!
+
+     Mike SCREAMS, agonized. An animal caught in a trap.
+
+                       MIKE
+             GODDAMN!! FUCKI!!!
+
+     Mike struggles, fighting to use his good hand to crack the
+     window open. Finally he tears his broken hand out.
+
+     TIGHT - HAND
+
+     It's a mess. The skin is ripped, bleeding.
+
+     Panicked, Mike runs into
+
+
+39   INT. BATHROOM                                                   39
+
+     He turns on the sink. Water streams out, as he puts his
+     wounded hand under the flow.
+
+     But then — the faucet SPUTTERS and dies.
+
+     Mike angrily turns the handles. Nothing. Livid, he punches
+     the sink.
+
+                       MIKE
+             You son-of-a...
+
+     FWOOOOOOSH! Suddenly SCALDING HOT WATER spews out!
+
+     Yeow!!!! It BURNS Mike’s hand.
+
+     Mike CRIES OUT. He yanks away his hand, now bloody AND
+     burnt.
+
+     The radio goes off.
+
+                       THE CARPENTERS
+             "We‘ve only just begun..."
+
+     Mike SHRIEKS.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Fuck YOU, radio!!
+
+
+40   INT. BEDROOM                                                    40
+                                                                45.
+
+
+     Incensed, Mike lunges in, grabs the electrical cord, and
+     PULLS it from the wall!
+
+     And — nothing changes. The song keeps playing. The timer
+     keeps clicking down: ”56:24... 56:23..."
+
+     Mike gasps in disbelief. Flummoxed, he staggers back to
+
+
+41   INT. BATHROOM                                                    41
+
+     He grabs a towel and wraps it around his bleeding hand.
+
+
+42   INT. BEDROOM                                                     42
+
+     A gust of wind blows in, ruffling the curtains. We follow
+     the breeze across the room... to the BIBLE on the
+     nightstand.
+
+     The wind flutters the pages. They flip by... then stop.
+
+     CLOSEUP - BIBLE
+
+     The page is covered with SCRAWLED, MANIC WORDS:
+
+     "DON'T LET ME DIE HERE"
+
+     WIDE
+
+     Suddenly, RINGGGGG!!!
+
+     Mike jumps. Surprised, he runs to the phone. He grabs it.
+
+                          MIKE
+             YES??!!
+
+                       HOTEL VOICE
+             Sir, I'm sorry, but there was a
+             miscommunication in the kitchen.
+             There’s going to be a ten-minute
+             delay on your sandwich.
+
+     Mike's eyes bug out.
+
+                       MIKE
+             What sandwich?! I didn't order a
+             sandwich!!
+
+                          MIKE
+                     (crazed)
+                                                        46.
+
+
+        But as long as we're on the phone
+        let's talk about the window that
+        just broke my hand, and the water
+        that burned me alive!!
+
+A long pause. Then —
+
+                  HOTEL VOICE
+        I'm sorry. You're welcome to
+        substitute a side dish for your
+        french fries. We have cottage
+        cheese, macaroni salad —
+
+                  MIKE
+        Are you croddam LISTENING to me?!
+        My hand needs STITCHES —
+
+                  HOTEL VOICE
+        I understand. If you leave your dry
+        cleaning out by 10 a.m., we'll have
+        it pressed and returned by 5 the
+        same day.
+
+Mike gapes.
+
+                  MIKE
+        FUCK! Fuck YOU! I want you to call
+        me a cab to the nearest hospital!
+
+The Hotel Voice turns sour, ruffled.
+
+                  HOTEL VOICE
+        Sir, I will not tolerate you
+        speaking to me in that tone of
+        voice —
+
+                  MIKE
+        You’re a fuckin' IDIOT!
+
+                  HOTEL VOICE
+        If you wish, I can connect you to
+        our manager, Mr. Olin.
+
+                  MIKE
+        GOOD! Olin it is! Put him on!!
+
+Pause —- then the line goes on HOLD. Sprightly MUSIC kicks
+in. The RECORDED ANNOUNCEMENT we heard before repeats:
+
+                  SMOOTH RECORDING
+                                                              47.
+
+
+             "When staying at the Dolphin, be
+             certain to enjoy New York's finest
+             dining, at the fabled Blue Marlin
+             Restaurant on our Mezzanine level."
+
+     Mike waits, stewing.
+
+     He watches his blood dripping out of his hand. The red
+     droplets hitting the carpet...
+
+                       SMOOTH RECORDING
+             "Muscles tense? Then make an
+             appointment to visit our deluxe
+             spa, on the Coral level. With full
+             massage, facial, and aromatherapy
+             facilities, it'll leave you feeling
+             relaxed and revitalized."
+
+     Mike’s hand keeps bleeding.
+
+     His temper is growing.
+
+                       SMOOTH RECORDING
+             "Your call is important to us.
+             Please stay on the line—”
+
+     CLICK — BEEEEEEEP!
+
+     It’s a DIALTONE.
+
+     Mike has been disconnected.
+
+     He stares in amazement.
+
+                       MIKE
+             You are kidding.
+
+     Furious, Mike throws the phone.
+
+     He grips his wounded hand and stomps into the
+
+
+43   INT. LIVING ROOM                                               43
+
+     Mike's fed up. He rushes to the door, going to open it -—
+
+     And... the deadbolt's locked.
+
+     Huh? Uncertain, Mike fumbles in his pocket for the big ROOM
+     KEY. He angrily jams it into the lock, thrusting it through
+     the oversize hole.
+                                                           48.
+
+
+And — PLIP! The key slips from Mike’s fingers — plunging
+into the door! It disappears, gone.
+
+                     MIKE
+          Wha—?!
+
+Mike fiddles with the keyhole, trying to find the key.
+
+Frustrated, he slams his EYE up against the hole.
+
+HIS POV
+
+Blackness. Hollow. A gentle whisper inside...
+
+MIKe'S EYEBALL
+
+bulges, peering up... down...
+
+WIDE - MIKE
+
+He scowls. He spins and looks around... thinking. Mike runs
+to his bag, unzips a pocket, and pulls out his LETTER
+OPENER.
+
+Mika jams the metal blade into the keyhole. He wiggles
+it... trying... desperately... to engage the mechanics...
+
+                     MIKE
+          C’mon...
+
+He struggles to nick the lock. Forcing it around... when —
+CLUNK! The DEADBOLT UNLOCKS!
+
+                     MIKE
+          Yeah!
+
+Mike smiles victoriously. He triumphantly turns the handle
+--
+
+AND —
+
+CRACK! The DOOR HANDLE BREAKS OFF IN HIS HAND.
+
+CLOSEUP - MIKE
+
+His face goes ashen. This is unconceivable.
+
+The door is now unopenable from the inside.
+
+WIDE
+                                                         49.
+
+
+Mike goes rabid, furiously KICKING the door! He PUNCHES it
+with his bruised hand. He claws crazily at the handle
+stump.
+
+He's TRAPPED.
+
+Losing it, Mike whirls and careens across the room. Passing
+
+                    THE THERMOSTAT
+          which now reads 75 degrees. 74...
+
+AT THE WINDOW
+
+Mike runs to the pane and throws it open. He SCREAMS.
+
+                     MIKE
+          HELLO?!!
+
+OUTSIDE
+
+It's utterly silent, like before. Not a sound from the busy
+traffic.
+
+Mike screams louder.
+
+                    MIKE
+          Up here! HELP!!!
+
+Mike's VOICE ECHOES, the only noise in the world,
+
+                    ECHO
+          HELP... HELP... HELP...!
+
+This is very disturbing.
+
+Mike peers around — then spots a lit window across the
+street. There is a SILHOUETTED MAN.
+
+Mike gasps, a ray of hope.
+
+                    MIKE
+          Hey! Sir!!
+
+No reaction. He SCREAMS louder.
+
+                    MIKE
+          CAN YOU SEE ME?! OVER HERE, IN THE
+          DOLPHIN??
+
+Mike waves his right arm.
+
+ACROSS THE STREET
+                                                           50.
+
+
+The Man waves his right arm.
+
+MIKE
+
+                     MIKE
+           YES, HERE! I NEED YOU TO CALL THE
+           POLICE!!
+
+Mike jumps, excited.
+
+ACROSS THE STREET
+
+The Man jumps, too. An exact rhyming movement.
+
+MIKE
+
+suddenly halts, horrified.
+
+THE MAN
+
+freezes.
+
+MIKE
+
+slowly... worriedly... shifts from side to side.
+
+THE MAN
+
+mirror-like, shifts from side to side.
+
+MIKE
+
+trembles. Fearful, shaking, he leans toward the lamp.
+
+THE MAN
+
+leans toward a lamp. Revealing... he... is... Mike.
+
+MIKE
+
+freezes, stunned. He is watching himself.
+
+CLOSER VIEW - THE MAN
+
+is Mike, standing in a parallel version of the hotel room,
+
+h Staring blank-eyed at us.
+
+A chilling beat — and then an INSANE MANIAC with a
+clawhammer comes rushing into view. He swings the hammer
+straight at the doppelganger's head.
+                                                           51.
+
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+He SCREAMS and spins in fear.
+
+WIDE
+
+And — the Maniac isn't there. Mike is alone.
+
+Mike's chest heaves, overcome. Panicked, whirling about.
+Off-balance, he spins back to the view outside.
+
+ACROSS THE WAY
+
+The man is gone. The lit window is gone, It's just
+darkness.
+
+Mike is befuddled.
+
+                     MIKE
+           What the f-—?
+
+He stares, shaking and impotent. Then, he notices the
+PEOPLE below on the street. Silent, but — real.
+
+Desperate, Mike suddenly goes deranged.
+
+He picks up a LAMP -
+
+                     MIKE
+           HELP ME!!!
+
+WIDE - THE WINDOW
+
+Mike unplugs the lamp and THROWS it! It flies out the
+window and soars outward!
+
+Mike lurches out, to watch what happens--
+
+The LAMP drops. Down... down...
+
+MIKE
+
+waits eagerly, wild-eyed.
+
+THE LAMP
+
+drops closer to the street... then...
+
+Dissipates.
+
+Like mist, it just... disappears. The lamp is gone.
+                                                             52.
+
+
+     MIKE’S EYES
+
+     bug out.
+
+                          MIKE
+                Jesus, I'm losing my mind. I'm
+                hallucinating.
+
+
+44   INT. LIVING ROOM                                              44
+
+     Unsteady, Mike collapses. He feels helpless, like the walls
+     are closing in...
+
+     Then — an ethereal LITTLE GIRL'S VOICE.
+
+     Wispy, faint...
+
+                          GIRL’S VOICE
+                Daddy... Daddy.......
+
+     We suddenly PUSH IN TO MIKE. He CLUTCHES for breath.
+
+     ALLI color bleeds from his face. He holds his head,
+     gasping.
+
+                          MIKE
+                Stop it. Get ahold of yourself.
+                You're letting your mind run to
+                places that aren’t real.
+                     (he works to calm
+                     himself)
+                It’s just a classic haunted house
+                power of suggestion: Gaslit
+                fixtures. Faded rugs. Like that
+                motel in Kansas. There’s a reason
+                for everything...
+
+     The radio continues its ominous countdown: 46:25.,. 46:24.
+
+     Mike peers around, scoping — then sees something. Maddened,
+     he hobbles up to the AIRVENT.
+
+     ANGLE - VENT
+
+     There is... something inside the vent. A tiny black TUBE?
+
+                          MIKE
+                Is that a camera? A spycam?
+                     (accusatory)
+                Hello?! Who are you, the perverted
+                owner of the hotel? Some rich
+                sadist, enjoying my terror?
+                                                         53.
+
+
+             (beat)
+        Or perhaps it's just punctilious
+        Mr. Olin, whacking-off in his
+        leather chair.
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+He is cracking. Paranoid.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Wait a second..! He gave me booze,
+             (trying to focus)
+        Was it laced? Did Olin take a
+        sip...? Can't remember...
+
+Mike eyes are glazed. He spots the Cognac bottle. He runs
+over and uncorks it, taking a sniff...
+
+Hm. Something else catches his eye.
+
+ON THE NIGHTSTAND
+
+are the mint wrappers. Mike gasps, remorseful.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Agh! The mystery chocolate. Shit!
+        Never take candy from a stranger.
+
+Mike's mind ratchets into overdrive, freaking. Until —
+
+                  GIRL'S VOICE
+        Daddy, pay attention!
+
+Mike whirls.
+
+ANGLE - TV
+
+The TV is ON. Onscreen is a flickering old HOME VIDEO;
+Mike's daughter GRACIE, 5, sits on the carpet playing
+dolls. She laughs and motions urgently.
+
+                  GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
+        Daddy, sit down!
+
+BACK TO - MIKE
+
+He gapes in disbelief.
+
+                    MIKE
+        Grade...?
+
+IN THE HOME VIDEO
+                                                        54.
+
+
+A YOUNGER MIKE enters frame. Cheerful and buoyant. He sits
+on the floor with Grade. She hands him a rotund little
+doll.
+
+                  GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
+        Okay, you be the daddy, and I'm
+        going to be the mommy.
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE (ON VIDEO)
+        But I don’t want to be the daddy. I
+        want to be — the dog.
+
+                  GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
+             (outraged)
+        That's silly! You can't be the dog!
+        You have to be a person!
+
+BACK TO - MIKE
+
+He shudders, disturbed.
+
+                  MIKE
+        W-where1d this come from...?
+
+IN THE HOME VIDEO
+
+Mike's former wife LILY, 30, enters. She's pretty, aloof.
+
+                  LILY (ON VIDEO)
+        Hey, what are you scoundrels up to?
+
+                  GRACIE (ON VIDEO)
+        We're busy. Daddy and I got
+        married.
+
+                  LILY (ON VIDEO)
+             (feigning shock)
+        What?!
+        They all giuole.
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE (ON VIDEO)
+        Ism very popular around here!
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+His face falls. Sad and traumatized.
+
+Wanting to hang onto this memory, he slowly reaches out to
+the screen'... wishing... in some way... he could touch it
+—
+
+ZAPPP!! It violently SHOCKS him.
+                                                          55.
+
+
+OW! Mike tumbles back. The screen blazes, then goes to
+STATIC. Grade is gone.
+
+WIDE - THE ROOM
+
+Mike is alone, hurt. Not understanding. He senses
+something, then turns...
+
+ANGLE - NIGHTSTAND
+
+Sitting there are the two little DOLLS from the video.
+
+MIKE’S
+
+eyes widen with fear.
+
+The figures are a tiny man and woman. Here in the room.
+
+Mike gulps, then picks them up. Yes, they are real. Mike is
+overcome with feelings. He tenderly cradles the dolls.
+
+Staring into their painted faces...
+
+Until — he glimpses movement in the room. He turns.
+
+AT THE WINDOW
+
+A quick FLASH of the rich FACTORY OWNER who killed himself:
+He steps to the ledge and jumps.
+
+MIKE
+
+is stunned.
+
+AT THE WINDOW
+
+Another apparition. A PORTLY LADY in a 1950's flowered
+dress.
+
+She sobs, then pulls a chair to the window. She lashes out
+at the air, then leaps.
+
+MIKE
+
+cries out, shocked.
+
+Mike cradles the dolls closer. Wanting to cling to
+something good...
+
+When — a FAINT SOUND. Soft and muffled.
+
+Mike freezes.
+                                                           56.
+
+
+From the next room over is the SOUND again. A BABY CRYING,
+Then, the gentle murmur of the Mother.
+
+What?!
+
+WIDE
+
+Mike JUMPS to attention. He drops the dolls and frantically
+runs to the wall. He KNOCKS on It.
+
+                   MIKE
+         Ma’am? Ma'am! Can you hear me??
+
+The baby CRIES louder. Drowning him out.
+
+                   MIKE
+         Quiet, kid.
+              (he BANGS harder)
+         Ma’am?! Please! I need your help!!
+
+The baby CRIES harder. Mike realizes she can’t possibly
+hear him.
+
+Frenzied, he grabs a nearby CHAIR.
+
+Mike swings the chair, then SMASHES it into the wall!
+
+Bam! BAM!!
+
+The baby SCREAMS louder.
+
+Mike swings harder, brutally.
+
+CRASH! The chair splits apart.
+
+                   MIKE
+         HELLO?!
+
+suddenly — SHRRRRRIIIIEEEEEKK! The baby SCREAMS like it's
+being BURNED ALIVE.
+
+Agh! Mike pulls back, holding his ears.
+
+The SCREAM GETS MAGNIFIED, LOUDER, like the volume on a
+stereo being cranked.
+
+Mike winces, shutting his eyes, trying to block it out —
+
+When, it. suddenly STOPS.
+
+TIGHT - MIKE
+                                                               57.
+
+
+     opens his eyes quizzically. It's all quiet,
+
+     He sits there. Forlorn.
+
+                       MIKE
+             ...Isn't there anyone?
+
+     Slowly, a SHADOW crosses his face.
+
+     ABOVE
+
+     A quick FLASH: A natty MAN in Jazz Age suspenders hangs
+     himself from a noose on the chandelier.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     grimaces. He yelps and backs away. Frightened, he makes his
+     way to the bathroom.
+
+
+45   INT. BATHROOM                                                   45
+
+     Mike enters — then shudders.
+
+     The bathroom is TRANSFORMED. It's no longer the lush,
+     comforting boudoir of luxury — but a STERILE, FLUORESCENT-
+     LIT NURSING HOME BATHROOM.
+
+     Sitting in a wheelchair is a decrepit OLD MAN. He peers up,
+     eyes rheumy and lost, then shouts:
+
+                       OLD MAN
+             I wish I was dead!
+
+     Mike freezes. An endless pause.
+
+     Then, he whispers.
+
+                          MIKE
+             Dad?
+
+                       FATHER
+             Where's mv garden?
+                  (foggy')
+             I can't smell anything!
+
+     Mike is shaking.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Dad, it's me — Michael.
+
+                          FATHER
+                                                           58.
+
+
+        Who?
+
+                  MIKE
+             (trembling)
+        Your... son.
+
+                  FATHER
+             (suddenly LOUD)
+        I HATE this place!
+             (enraged, confused)
+        How'd I get here?
+
+Mike starts crying.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I'm sorry...!
+
+Mike drops to his knees and hugs him. Holding the old man
+tight, his face against his Father's scratchy, unshaven
+cheek.
+
+WIDE OVERHEAD
+
+We look down on weeping Mike.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I'm so sorry...
+
+We slowly PULL OUT... revealing that Mike is back in the
+hotel bathroom. He’s on his knees, hugging the toilet.
+
+There's no Father.
+
+Mike moans, shaken. He looks around in bewilderment.
+
+                  MIKE
+        He was so real.
+             (upset)
+        As real as me.
+
+Wobbly, Mike stands. He looks in the mirror, examining his
+haggard face.
+
+Then — he peeks back at the imagined camera in the vent.
+Hm.
+
+                  MIKE
+        This is more than special effects.
+
+Mike takes out his MINI-RECORDER. He speaks into it:
+
+                     MIKE
+                                                       59.
+
+
+        "Maybe I’m not real. Maybe I'm...
+        just having a dream. An incredibly
+        vivid, lucid dream."
+
+He paces around, thinking.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "When's the last time I remember
+        going to bed?”
+
+Beat.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "Today I flew in. Or... was that
+        yesterday?
+             (unsure)
+        "God, what happened yesterday?
+        Can’t remember anything. Was I on a
+        train?
+             (wracking his brain)
+        "I must've woken up and had
+        breakfast. Somewhere. But... where
+        was I? Where did I eat...?"
+
+Mike is getting nervous.
+
+He glances at the wall he bashed, then does a take.
+
+THE WALL'S CRACK
+
+has grown. The crack has spiderwebbed larger. Clear,
+viscous FLUID seeps out...
+
+Mike grimaces, afraid. He shivers and backs away.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "People say you can't die in your
+        sleep. Is that true??"
+
+THE THERMOSTAT
+
+now reads 60 DEGREES. 58. 55.
+
+MIKE
+
+rubs himself. Panic grows across his face.
+
+                  MIKE
+        "They say the shock wakes you up.
+        If your mind thinks you're about to
+        die
+                                                           60.
+
+
+Freaking, Mike makes his way to the WINDOW. He clicks off
+the recorder, then starts to climb out --
+
+OUTSIDE
+
+The wind BLOWS. Mike shudders and prepares to jump. He
+looks down —
+
+MIKE’S POV
+
+A dizzying, spinning view of the STREET.
+
+MIKE
+
+Suddenly, a SLAP of reality. He GASPS and tumbles inside.
+
+                    MIKE
+          What the fuck am I doing?
+               (dawning)
+          This is what the room wants!
+
+Mike's eyes shift about, wary.
+
+A shadow. He spins.
+
+Behind a chair, a MAN peeks over the pillow.
+
+Mike GASPS and crawls away.
+
+                    MIKE
+          There’s gotta be a way out!!!
+
+WIDE
+
+Mike looks for options — then notices the FLOOR MAP on the
+inside of the door.
+
+Ah! He darts over and scrutinizes it.
+
+TIGHT - MAP
+
+It indicates the building layout. Rooms, halls, exits...
+
+                    MIKE
+          Okay, okay! Look at our options..!
+          Guest rooms on both sides...
+          emergency exits... stairwell...
+
+Mike's eyes gleam manically. Suddenly —
+
+                    MIKE
+          The next window!
+                                                                61.
+
+
+     He looks back fearfully, then heedlessly calculates.
+
+                       MIKE
+             This room's fifteen feet across, so
+             the next window... is just... five
+             feet past that wall!
+
+     Mike dashes across the room. He paces toe-to-heel,
+     measuring.
+
+     Yes! Hope returns to his face.
+
+     He runs back to his window, then climbs back up.
+     Invigorated, he CLICKS ON the recorder .
+
+                       MIKE
+             "If I slip and fall, and this tape
+             gets found among my splattered
+             remains on 61st Street, let it be
+             known that it was an accident.
+                  (beat)
+             "The room did, not win. It did not
+             possess me to leap! I was just an
+             arrogant self-hating bastard who
+
+     Suddenly, he STOPS. Puzzled by these words.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Why did just say that?
+
+     A strange dislocation. Then, he pockets the recorder.
+
+                       MIKE
+             This fuckin' room. It's polluted my
+             mind!
+
+     Defiant, he STEPS OUT.
+
+                       MIKE
+             But I can do this!
+
+
+46   EXT. BUILDING LEDGE - SAME TIME                                  46
+
+     Mike gingerly climbs outside, the wind blowing his clothes.
+
+     He peeks downward, then — stifling his fear, tentatively
+     lowers one foot onto the ledge.
+
+     His fingers claw the brick, then find a decorative cornice
+     to grab onto.
+                                                           62.
+
+
+He takes a breath... then gingerly swings out his other
+leg.
+
+Both feet are out. He gulps, then glances down.
+
+HIS POV
+
+Busy traffic, thirteen stories down.
+
+MIKE
+
+tries to stay calm.
+
+                     MIKE
+           Just ignore it.. Don’t worry...
+
+He presses his face to the wall, then... carefully, starts
+to inch along the ledge.
+
+He slides his left toot. Beat. He slides his right...
+
+He doesn't dare lean back. He blindly reaches out, gripping
+the next section of cornice.
+
+Okay. He slides his left foot. Then his right.
+
+His face is sweating. He reaches... fingers slipping...
+then, his hand finds the next cornice.
+
+Good. He slides again. He reaches — and still no window.
+
+CU - MIKE
+
+Cheek pressed to the dusty brick, he is confused,
+
+                     MIKE
+           Where the hell is it?
+
+Mike slides his left leg over. His right leg over.
+
+Starting to jitter, he reaches again. And — no window.
+
+                     MIKE
+                (getting worried)
+           Where is it?!
+
+He reaches further... straining... then slides again.
+
+Nothing.
+
+                     MIKE
+           WHERE IS IT??!
+                                                          63.
+
+
+Daring gravity, he leans back, to get a look --
+
+SUPERWIDE - THE BUILDING
+
+And, THERE ARE NO OTHER WINDOWS. THE ENTIRE BUILDING IS ONE
+CONTINUOUS SURFACE OF BRICK, EXCEPT FOR MIKE AND 1408.
+
+Mike SCREAMS, horrified.
+
+                    MIKE
+        NOOOOO!!!
+
+He flounders, stunned. Mike slips.
+
+                    MIKE
+        AGGHH!
+
+Mike falls, BANGING his face on the wall.
+
+He DROPS, about to plummet, desperately clambering,
+scratching his fingers into the old brick/when —
+
+BAM! One hand snags the ledge as it passes by.
+
+Chest heaving, hysterical, Mike catches his breath.
+
+The wind pelts him.
+
+Mike whimpers.
+
+Then, he resignedly starts shimmying back to 1408. Slowly,
+then, faster... his expression despondent...
+
+TIGHT - MIKE'S HANDS
+
+pull him along, Struggling to return to the hell he was
+escaping.
+
+AT THE WINDOW
+
+Mike finally reaches his room. Quivering, sucking in all
+his strength, he LIFTS HIMSELF UP onto the ledge. A shaky
+beat — then, he looks back inside.
+
+FAST ZOOM
+
+across the room, RIGHT UP TO THE MAP on the door.
+
+ZOOMING TIGHTER, until the MAP FILLS THE FRAME. And — it's
+alive, the black lines slithering around like worms. The
+map rearranges itself, doors and walls moving about.
+                                                                64.
+
+
+     MIKE
+
+     goes pale.
+
+     Suddenly -- the Portly Lady steps out into the window. She
+     is sobbing.
+
+                       PORTLY LADY
+             May Jesus forgive me...
+                  (beat; she scowls
+                  hatefully)
+             And FUCK YOU, HENRY SMITH!
+
+     She starts to jump -- when she suddenly sees Mike. A
+     bizarre discombobulation, then she lashes out at him,
+     punching at him like the movements we saw earlier.
+
+     Freaked out, she leaps.
+
+                         PORTLY LADY
+             Ahhhhh!
+
+     She hurtles past.
+
+     Mike gasps and jerks away. Scared, he tumbles back inside.
+
+
+47   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                            47
+
+     Mike lands on the room floor, covered in sweat, terrified.
+
+     Shaking, huddled in a fetal position.
+
+     He rocks back and forth... then hears a strange CLINKING
+     sound. Click-clack click-clack click-clack...
+
+     The room darkens...
+
+     Wearied, he looks up — and FREEZES.
+
+     THE WINDOW
+
+     has been BRICKED-UP. Completely solid.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     moans, unnerved. He peers in disbelief, then runs and
+     pounds on the brick.
+
+     It's old. Like it's been there forever.
+
+     Despairing, Mike tears into the
+                                                             65.
+
+
+48   INT. BEDROOM                                                  48
+
+     And — the BEDROOM WINDOW IS GONE. The WALL IS SOLID
+     DRYWALL.
+
+     No trace there ever was a window.
+
+     Mike starts hyperventilating.
+
+                       MIKE
+             No — that's impossible —
+
+     He starts feeling the wall. Searching for anything...
+
+                       MIKE
+             It can't... I know...
+
+     Mike is losing it. On the edge of sanity* He grapples for
+     his minirecorder and hits REWIND.
+
+     We HEAR Mike's voice speed by, chipmunk-like. He hits PLAY:
+
+                       MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+             "What did Olin say something about
+             poison gas —"
+
+     No* Mike speeds further. PLAY.
+
+                       MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+             "Hotel rooms are naturally creepy—"
+
+     No. He speeds further. Then:
+
+                       MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+             "The bedroom has a queen-size bed?
+             two nightstands and butterfly
+             wallpaper.
+                  (beat)
+             "The room has no window."
+
+     HUH?
+
+     A chilling beat.
+
+                        MIKE
+             No...
+
+     Shaking, he hits rewind. Play.
+
+                       MIKE’S RECORDED VOICE
+             "The room has no window."
+                                                                66.
+
+
+     Mike CRIES out, scared. He hits rewind. Play.
+
+                       WOMAN’S RECORDED VOICE
+                  (whisper)
+             "Your daughter was eaten by wolves
+             on the Connecticut turnpike."
+
+                         MIKE
+             AHH!
+
+     Mike DROPS the recorder, like he's been electrocuted.
+
+     He trembles, pained.
+
+     CLOSEUP - CLOCK
+
+     The unplugged clock continues ticking down: 32:14... 32:13.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     shuts his eyes. Until — a TORMENTED SOBBING.
+
+     What now? He opens his eyes. The SOBBING is in the next
+     room. It sounds like two people...
+
+     Afraid of what he’ll find — he peeks into the next room.
+
+
+49   INT. LIVING ROOM                                                 49
+
+     There is a VISION. A FLASHBACK FROM THE PAST:
+
+     A MAN and WOMAN are locked in a tight embrace, in a doctor'
+     office. We can't see their faces. They both cry, the man
+     hugging and comforting the woman.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     stares anguished. All color drains from his face.
+
+     FLASHBACK VISION:
+
+     The couple looks up — and they’re Young Mike and Lily. Both
+     have tear-streaked faces.
+
+                       LILY
+             I can’t accept it...
+
+                       YOUNG MIKE
+                  (bereaved)
+             But he said —
+                                                        67.
+
+
+                   LILY
+         Maybe he's wrong! Doctors don't
+         know everything!
+              (beat)
+         There are experimental
+         treatments...
+
+Young Mike shakes his head.
+
+                   YOUNG MIKE
+         She's doomed.
+
+                   LILY
+         Don’t say that!
+
+We REVEAL Grade in a hospital bed, listening behind a
+curtain. She's nine, pallid and thin.
+
+                   LILY (O.S.)
+         She'll only get through this if she
+         believes. We need to give her hope!
+
+                   YOUNG MIKE (O.S.)
+         Why? So she can spend the end of
+         her life being LIED to?!
+
+Grade’s eyes widen.
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+He recoils, shocked she heard this. He's crushed.
+
+                     MIKE
+         Gracie...
+
+Mike feebly extends his arm —
+
+When —
+
+BLACKNESS!
+
+The room goes COMPLETELY DARK.
+
+Mike gasps, confused.
+
+                     MIKE (V.O.)
+         H-hey —
+
+He stumbles. CRASH! A lamp FALLS and breaks.
+
+                     MIKE FV.O.)
+         Ow!
+                                                              68.
+
+
+     We hear Mike's breathing accelerate, getting heavy.
+
+     Suddenly, a TERRIFYING VOICE. The VOICE OF THE ROOM,
+     rasping, non-human, coming from everywhere:
+
+                         VOICE OF THE ROOM
+               ARE YOU A MEAT EATER, MR. ENSLIN??!
+
+                         MIKE (V.O.)
+                    (furious)
+               W-what? Who are you?!! How the fuck
+               do you know about my daughter??
+
+     We HEAR Mike trip around. He reaches for the LIGHT SWITCH.
+
+     He frantically FLICKS it — up down, up down -—
+
+
+50   INT. LIVING ROOM - NORMAL                                      50
+
+     BLINK! The lights go on.
+
+     The room is back to normal. Mike is gasping, heaving.
+
+     Looking about. Okay. Okay. Everything seems alright...
+
+     He turns — and, AGHH!
+
+     HIS POV
+
+     A terrifying SKINNY LADY lunges at him! Grabbing his
+     throat!
+
+     MIKE
+
+     screams, startled. Fighting her off.
+
+     THE SKINNY LADY
+
+     grips harder, snarling.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     staggers back, trying to push her bony hands away —
+
+     When he glances sideways into a MIRROR. In the reflection,
+     he is alone. Staggering back, choking himself.
+
+     What?!
+
+     Mike yelps and releases his own grip. He coughs, struggling
+     for breath. He peers around. He is alone.
+                                                         69.
+
+
+                      MIKE
+           JESUS...
+
+He shivers, stupefied, Suddenly —
+
+                     VOICE OF THE ROOM
+           READY TO LEAVE?!!!
+
+                     MIKE
+                (he jumps, startled)
+           NOT YOUR WAY!!
+
+Dazed, Mike rubs himself for warmth.
+
+THE THERMOSTAT
+
+clicks to 50.
+
+MIKE
+
+runs to his duffel. He rummages for a COAT and quickly puts
+it on. Underneath is his CELLPHONE.
+
+Desperate, he flips it open — but it flashes: "BATTERY LOW”
+
+What?! Mike growls, livid. Suddenly he glimpses something
+else — his LAPTOP.
+
+Hmm..! His eyes light up. He nervously glances back, then
+quickly covers the, computer. Mike grabs a shirt.
+
+AT THE VENT
+
+Mike runs to the vent, cool air blowing down.
+
+Suddenly, he pushes the desk over, WHUMP! Everything on it
+CRASHES down. Mike drags the desk to the wall, then climbs
+up. He glances suspiciously at the little black tube inside
+the vent... then hooks the shirt over the grate, blocking
+it.
+
+Mike jumps down. He runs to his
+
+COMPUTER
+
+Mike grabs it and snaps it open. The SCREEN lights up.
+
+                     MIKE
+           Good, good...
+
+Mike spins the mouse, clicking "Internet."
+                                                           70.
+
+
+                  MIKE
+        C'mon, this crappy old hotel
+        must've popped for wireless —
+
+He waits patiently. The WI-FI icon scrolls, Searching...
+searching. .. then —
+
+"NO SIGNAL AVAILABLE"
+
+Mike groans.
+
+WIDE
+
+Irked, he grabs the laptop and starts stalking around the
+room. Holding it over his head. Hunting for a sweet spot.
+
+The icon flashes red... green... red. Mike glances at the
+bricked-over window.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Maybe there's a signal outside...
+
+Mike stands on a chair, holding the laptop up against the
+brick. And... with a little jiggling — the icon turns
+GREEN.
+
+                    MIKE
+        AHH!!!
+
+The screen flashes. An INTERNET WINDOW OPENS.
+
+                  INTERNET LADY VOICE
+        Good evening, Mike.
+
+                  MIKE
+        YEAH! Good evening, Fake Voice
+        Lady!!!
+
+Mike gleefully dances about. He FLIPS the Bird.
+
+                  MIKE
+        And FUCK YOU, Mr. Scary Room Voice
+        Guy! I’m connected!!
+
+INSERT - COMPUTER
+
+Mike goes to his contacts. He quickly clicks on "BUDDY
+LIST."
+
+And — one name is there: "LILY_ENSLIN"
+
+                    MIKE
+                                                           71.
+
+
+        Ah, shit.
+
+Mike winces — he has no choice. He steels himself, then
+types into the Instant Message Box: "LILY, I NEED HELP"
+
+Na response.
+
+Mike types again: "EMERGENCY!”
+
+Long beat. Then, a WINDOW OPENS UP as a REAL-TIME WEBCAM
+LINK. A woman's face stares back at us: Mike’s ex.
+
+WEBCAM CU - LILY
+
+She's more weary than pretty these days. Just hanging on.
+
+She looks dryly at Mike.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Look what the internet dragged in.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Lily! Thank God —
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        How about "hello."
+
+                  MIKE
+        I don't have time —
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Yeah, well neither do I.
+
+She goes to sign off.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Wait! Wait! Please --!
+
+She stops.
+
+                  MIKE
+        1 need you call the cops, send 'em
+        to West 61st and —
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        You’re in the City?
+
+                  MIKE
+        Er... yeah. 61st and —
+
+                    LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+                                                           72.
+
+
+        You're in the City, and you didn't
+        tell me?!
+
+                  MIKE
+        I... uh, I was only supposed to be
+        here a few hours —
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Jesus I Since the divorce, you've
+        been like a phantom! Now suddenly
+        you show up, you need a favor —
+
+                  MIKE
+        Lily, shut up!! I'm in danger.
+
+Lily freezes, shocked.
+
+                   LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        What?!
+
+                  MIKE
+        I'm locked in a hotel room! There’s
+        someone... something... trying to
+        kill me.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Mike, back up! Who?!
+
+                  MIKE
+        I can’t explain. Just call the
+        cops! Tell ’em Dolphin Hotel...
+
+Suddenly, an unexpected HISSING. Mike looks up.
+
+ABOVE
+
+The EMERGENCY SPRINKLERS go off! Water RAINS DOWN upon Mike
+and the computer!
+
+                   MIKE
+        No — NO!
+
+Mike tries to cover the laptop, but it’s too late. Water
+falls through the keys and into the electronics.
+
+Lily’s IMAGE over the screen begins to BREAK UP.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Mike... I... can’t hear...
+
+                  MIKE
+        Oh Christ! Lily, Dolphin Hotel!
+        1408! Bust down the door!
+                                                           73.
+
+
+PSSSTTTT! The computer screen goes BLACK.
+
+                   MIKE
+         FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!
+
+Raining droplets are everywhere, falling into the electric
+LAMPS.
+
+The LIGHTS begin to flicker, creating a slow strobe effect.
+
+FLASHES OF LIGHT
+
+illuminate the painting of grandma in the rocking chair.
+
+Darkness. Then FLASH!
+
+The painting changes; Grandma is now standing, staring out.
+
+FLASH!
+
+The old lady turns into THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN from the lobby.
+
+Her breast is bare, BLOOD drips from her nipple, down, into
+her baby’s open mouth. The baby’s face is blue, dead.
+
+FLASHI THE PAINTING OF THE SAILORS
+
+turns into a ROTTING GHOST SHIP. They sail into a roiling
+sea, covered in black clouds. The seamen's faces are pale,
+starving, staring hopelessly.
+
+Mike turns, shaky. FLASH!
+
+THE PAINTING OF THE HUNT
+
+The British men in red coats and hats get pulled off their
+horses by the dogs. The dogs RIP the men apart, tearing
+their flesh.
+
+MIKE
+
+whimpers. Around him, rain pours harder. WHOOOSH1 A
+TORNADO­LIKE SOUND roars. A liquid churning, growing
+louder...
+
+Mike covers his ears and careens through the sopping mess,
+shivering, looking for a way out. His feet smoosh in the
+soaking carpet.
+
+Mike passes the Thermostat. It's dropped to 48 DEGREES.
+
+He pounds on the closed-up windows.
+                                                           74.
+
+
+He tugs on the door.
+
+Wind BLOWS fiercer. A BLAST OF COLD gushes from the AIR
+VENT, blowing the shirt down.
+
+Mike’s eyes narrow, thinking. Intrigued, he takes a step
+closer to the VENT...
+
+                  MIKE
+        Ho ho. That goes somewhere. Maybe I
+        can just pull a Bruce Willis.
+
+Mike CLAMBERS UP onto the desk. He's right beneath the
+grate. He takes out his PENLIGHT and shines it up through
+the opening.
+
+INSIDE THE VENT
+
+It's dark, foreboding. In the shadows is the: black tube.
+
+Mike puts his face up to it.
+
+ANGLE - MIKE
+
+                  MIKE
+        Hello, perv. I'm coming to get you.
+
+He tugs the grate -— it's fastened with four bolts. Fine.
+He hurriedly pulls out his trusty LETTER OPENER and starts
+to use it as a screwdriver...
+
+                  MIKE
+        Okay. Here goes nothin'.
+
+Mike unscrews the first bolt. It falls to the ground.
+
+An anxious pause — then he quickly unscrews the second
+bolt.
+
+The third.
+
+The fourth.
+
+Wary, Mike reaches and slowly pulls the grate off the
+ceiling.
+
+He drops it, watching it hit the floor with a CLANG.
+
+Beat — then he slowly turns back to the now-open vent.
+
+Suddenly, he LUNGES at the tiny black tube and GRABS it.
+                                                               75.
+
+
+                       MIKE
+             HA!!!
+
+     Mike squeezes it in his fist -- then reacts, surprised.
+
+     CLOSEUP - MIKE'S HAND
+
+     He's holding a roll of DUCT TAPE. That’s all.
+
+     ANGLE - MIKE
+
+     A bewildered silence.
+
+                       MIKE
+             There's... nobody watching me??!
+                  (long pause; confused)
+             Why am I disappointed?
+
+     A halting moment. He gathers his wits, then stares into the
+     open VENT.
+
+     INSIDE THE VENT
+
+     It's metal DARKNESS. Air WHOOSHES sinisterly.
+
+     Mike gulps, then waves his pathetic letter opener. He
+     SHOUTS.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I've got a knife!
+
+     No response.
+
+     Mike steels himself, then painfully lifts his body up
+     into...
+
+
+51   INT. AIR-CONDITIONING VENT - SAME TIME                          51
+
+     Mike clangs onto the hard cold surface. He pulls his legs
+     up.
+
+     Inside, it's black. We can’t see a foot ahead.
+
+     Mike aims his penlight, but it’s just a dull glow. Shadows
+     and rat droppings.
+
+     Mike takes a breath, then squirms forward.
+
+     It's murky and unsettling. The air BLASTS. Mike slithers
+     along... unsure, creeped-out. Until, his penlight reveals
+                                                          76.
+
+
+A JUNCTION AHEAD
+
+A "T" split. Shafts go left and right.
+
+Mike stops — not sure where to go. He shines the tiny light
+both ways... but the beam disappears into dimness.
+
+Then — faint VOICES.
+
+Mike's eyes bulge.
+
+The VOICES are from the right.
+
+Mike gets excited. Other people! He scrambles down the
+vent.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Hey! Hey!!
+
+Not far, he sees LIGHT. It's coming from a GRATE in the
+floor of the shaft!
+
+Mike hustles faster. He reaches the grate — then looks
+down.
+
+BELOW - HOTEL ROOM
+
+It's the next Hotel Room. From above, we see the Young
+Mother holding her CRYING baby.
+
+                  YOUNG MOTHER
+        Shh, shh. Mama loves her baby...
+
+The Baby WAILS harder.
+
+The Mother turns — REVEALING SHE'S LILY. Young Lily, from
+the PAST.
+
+                  LILY
+        C’mon, Grade. Stop crying.
+             (frazzled)
+        No, I don’t know where your daddy
+        is. Probably boozing it up...
+
+MIKE
+
+goes ashen.
+
+                  MIKE
+        N-n-no...! Honey, I’m here...
+
+YOUNG LILY
+                                                           77.
+
+
+can't hear him. She carries Baby Grade into the next room.
+
+MIKE
+
+is tormented. He scurries to follow her. He rushes along
+the vent. Banging himself on the sharp metal —
+
+                  MIKE
+        Ow! Wait —
+
+He spots the next GRATE. Braced, he rushes over to it --
+then GASPS.
+
+BELOW
+
+is a PARK. Trees, a path.
+
+Then two men walk by. Young Mike from the PAST, arguing
+with his Father. Father is younger, healthy.
+
+                  FATHER
+        Mike, don’t do this! She needs you.
+             (reticent)
+        She lost a child, too.
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE
+             (enraged)
+        Why do you always lecture me?
+
+                  FATHER
+        I'm not --
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE
+        I’m an adult! I can make my own
+        decisions!
+
+Mike storms away.
+
+MIKE IN THE VENT
+
+His face collapses* Pained by the memory.
+
+He stares mutely, then feels something strange. Icky. He
+turns the penlight on his hand...
+
+And crawling across his fingers is a COCKROACH.
+
+                    MIKE
+        Ugh...!
+
+Mike brushes away the bug. The penlight’s beam swings —
+revealing HUNDREDS OF ROACHES. The VENT IS FESTERING.
+                                                          78.
+
+
+                    MIKE
+          YEOGGH!
+
+Grossed-out, Mike hurriedly BACKS UP. Rushing backwards
+through the vent.
+
+Hurry!
+
+The beam rolls, grazing across skittering bugs.
+
+Mike rushes faster. His breathing echoes through the
+claustrophic metal.
+
+Suddenly, he reaches a junction — and DROPS.
+
+Aggh!! He's plunged down a
+
+VERTICAL SHAFT
+
+Mike plummets into blackness, falling backwards!
+
+He flails, then SLAMS his hand, just catching the edge.
+
+Hanging on for dear life.
+
+Mike glances down. It’s ABSOLUTELY BLACK below.
+
+With a rush of adrenaline, Mike struggles to pull himself
+out Straining, muscles clenching... he lifts himself up.
+
+Okay. Mike sucks in air. Resolved, he whirls about to race
+forward —
+
+And — BANG!!!
+
+CLOSEUP
+
+Pasty KEVIN O’MALLEY is face-to-face with him! Kevin's eyes
+are wild, his skin bloated and blue.
+
+Mike SCREAMS, startled.
+
+Kevin gazes crazily, his mouth a pinched grimace.
+
+                    MIKE
+          Kevin... ?
+               (trembling)
+          Kevin O'Malley??
+
+Kevin stares, unspeaking. His breathing a HORRIBLE WHEEZE.
+                                                          79.
+
+
+Then... he slowly lifts his head. Revealing his THROAT IS
+SLICED OPEN, ear to ear.
+
+His bloody windpipe is visible, raspy. Kevin’s mouth opens
+and shuts, puppetlike, but only a moist gurgle comes out.
+
+Mike recoils, terrified.
+
+ON THE MEN
+
+Kevin O’Malley raises a 6-INCH NEEDLE AND THREAD. He points
+and gurgles a barely intelligible phrase.
+
+Then, again: "Fix it."
+
+Hikes J Mike pulls back in disgust and fear.
+
+Kevin O'Malley suddenly lunges forward.
+
+HELP! Mike spins away. Kevin CHASES. Freakily gurgling,
+"Fix it! Fix it!"
+
+MIKE
+
+barrels through the tiny space. Rushing for his life.
+
+Kevin O'Malley SKITTERS after him. Mike races, reaching
+
+THE T-JUNCTION
+
+He squirms down the RIGHT VENT.
+
+He makes it a few feet, when --
+
+CRUNCH! THE.VENT COLLAPSES. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!! As if a
+giant hand has squeezed it like a Coke can.
+
+Mike yelps and jolts back.
+
+The Vent continues CRUSHING IN, moving closer! He turns —
+
+DOWN THE LEFT VENT
+
+comes Kevin, his face a horrible rictus, waving the needle.
+
+MIKE
+
+crawls like hell! Faster, towards the
+
+MAIN VENT
+                                                               80.
+
+
+     Where in the distance he can see the OPENING to 1408! A
+     slim square of light —
+
+     THE OTHER VENT
+
+     keeps CRUSHING! Metal SMASHING closer —
+
+     MIKE'S FEET
+
+     scurry as fast as they can.
+
+     SLAM! Kevin O'Malley STABS his needle into Mike's leg.
+
+     Mike SCREAMS, pained.
+
+     He KICKS backward. His foot SHUSHES through Kevin's head,
+     like a sponge. Kevin O'Malley collapses, the CRUSHING VENT
+     SQUEEZING him out of view.
+
+     Mike speeds faster. Room 1408 visible —
+
+     The CRUSHING, TWISTING METAL is now inches away —
+
+     As Mike HURLS himself forward...
+
+
+52   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                           52
+
+     ...and falls through the vent into the room.
+
+     SLAM!!! He bounces off the desk, hitting the ground —
+
+     as the sheet metal Vent BUCKLES CLOSED. BAM!!!
+
+     TIGHT - MIKE
+
+     He lies there, overwhelmed. Breathing in fits, face
+     drenched in sweat, absolutely dumbstruck.
+
+     He looks up at the ceiling... then around the room. Beat.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I need a drink.
+
+     Mike staggers over to the Mini-Bar. He whips open the
+     little refrigerator door - then gasps.
+
+     INSIDE THE MINI-BAR
+
+     is a MINIATURE SET of OLIN'S OFFICE. A TINE LITTLE OPEN
+     SIDE IN HIS WING-CHAIR, sipping Cognac.
+                                              81.
+
+
+Mike grimaces, flabbergasted.
+
+                  MIKE
+        What are yon doing in there??
+             (vexed)
+        Where’s my BOOZE?!
+
+Olin stiles? unruffled.
+
+                  OLIN
+        I was just checking, sir. Are your
+        accommodations exceeding your
+        expectations?
+
+                  MIKE
+        You know GODDAMN WELL they are:
+        What do you want from me?!
+
+                  OLIN
+        No no no. What do you want? What do
+        YOU want, Mr. Enslin? You sought
+        this room.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I was doing my job!
+
+                  OLIN
+             (like he misheard)
+        Sorry?
+
+                  MIKE
+        My job! I'm a writer! I tell people
+        the truth!
+
+Hm. Olin swirls his Cognac.
+
+                  OLIN
+        That's right, you don't believe in
+        anything. You like shattering
+        people's hopes.
+
+                  MIKE
+        That's bullshit!
+
+                  OLIN
+        Why do people believe in ghosts?
+        For fun? No. They want the promise
+        of something after death...
+
+A COLLAGE of tearful VOICES...
+
+                  SORROWFUL VOICE #1
+        She’s in a better place, Mike...
+                                                        82.
+
+
+                   SORROWFUL VOICE #2
+         She was in so much pain ,..
+
+                   SORROWFUL VOICE #3
+         I'm sure she's smiling down at us
+         right now...
+
+Mike winces, agonized.
+
+                   OLIN
+         How many spirits have you broken?
+
+                    MIKE
+         AAAAAAH!
+
+Enraged, Mike SLAMS shut the Mini-Bar.
+
+                   MIKE
+         I WANT MY DRINK!!
+
+WIDE
+
+Mike spins. He looks around, then spots the Cognac in the
+bedroom. Ah! He beelines for the bottle, then snatches it
+up. He uncorks it and thirstily chugs the drink.
+
+Pause — then he calms. He glances down at the hotel Bible.
+
+Curious, Mike picks it up, then flips through.
+
+INSERT - BIBLE
+
+The PAGES are all now blank.
+
+Weird.
+
+MIKE
+
+frowns. Then, a faraway voice...
+
+                   GRACIE (V.O.)
+         Why is our bible purple?
+
+Mike looks up.
+
+There is a spectral
+
+FLASHBACK VISION:
+
+The Enslin family’s old apartment, set-up as a grim
+hospice.
+                                                        83.
+
+
+Gracie lies in bed, in a pink butterfly nightgown, in the
+final, terrible stages of cancer. She’s skeletal. Waxen.
+
+Lily sits by her, gripping a purple BIBLE. She laughs
+awkwardly.
+
+                  LILY
+        I — I dunno. It was a wedding
+        present.
+             (she caresses it)
+        But it's nice. The cover is real
+        leather...
+
+                  GRACIE
+        Are there people where I'm going?
+
+                  LILY
+        You're not going anywhere.
+
+                  GRACIE
+        That isn’t what Daddy said.
+
+We reveal Young Mike sitting in the window, smoking a
+cigarette. He stubs out the smoke.
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE
+        Daddy says a lot of stupid things.
+             (he comes over to the
+             bed)
+        You're too young to understand, but
+        when you grow up and become an
+        adult...
+             (he forces a smile)
+        you'll realize I'm crazy.
+
+Grade giggles. Mike gently brushes her cheek.
+
+                  GRACIE
+        Daddy, everyone dies.
+
+A tense pause.
+
+Lily glances at Mike. He struggles to be consoling.
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE
+        Y-you're right. Everyone dies...
+
+                  LILY
+             (she jumps   in)
+        And then you'll   go to a better
+        place. And lots   of people will be
+        there...
+             (her voice   cracks)
+                                                           84.
+
+
+        All your friends.... And you’11 be
+        able to run around again... play...
+
+Grade looks up at Mike.
+
+                  GRACIE
+        Do you believe that, Daddy...?
+
+A profound silence. He stammers, stuck.
+
+                    YOUNG MIKE
+        I... I...
+
+Grade stares pleadingly.
+
+Waiting. Then —
+
+                  YOUNG MIKE
+        Yes. I do.
+
+                  GRACIE
+             (she breaks into a smile)
+        Good. Then I do too.
+
+We hold on her heartfelt face.
+
+                                                    CUT TO:
+
+ANOTHER VISION
+
+Flames RAGE. It1s a cremation.
+
+A tiny coffin enters the burning fire.
+
+PRESENT - MIKE
+
+He sobs, pained. Wincing at this memory.
+
+FLASHBACK VISION
+
+The crematorium glows white, then blazes piercingly hot.
+
+The casket disappears into the heat.
+
+                                                    CUT TO:
+
+ANOTHER FLASHBACK
+
+Young Mike sits on Grade's bed, weeping. He's unshaven,
+distraught, clinging to her old pink nightgown.
+
+Grade is gone.
+                                                                85.
+
+
+     Lily can't even look at him.
+
+                        YOUNG MIKE
+              She could have hung on. But we had
+              to fill her head! With all those
+              fucking stories about the glorious
+              afterlife...
+
+                        LILY
+                   (crying)
+              Why do you have to blame anyone?!
+
+     Mike throws down the nightie.
+
+                        YOUNG MIKE
+              I gotta get out.
+
+     He jumps up and charges out of the apartment. SIAM!
+
+                                                           CUT TO:
+
+
+53   INT. 1408 - PRESENT                                              53
+
+     Mike breaks down, devastated.
+
+     He slumps back against the wall, whispering to himself.
+
+                        MIKE
+              Grade... Grade...
+
+     He holds his gut, a terrible ache that will never leave.
+
+     A sorrowful silence... an emptiness... until —
+
+     CLICK.
+
+     Mike turns, startled. His MINI-RECORDER has clicked into
+     PLAY. Its wheels spin...
+
+                        MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+              "Heyz there's nothing to feel
+              guilty about. When a couple loses a
+              child, 80% of the time, they end up
+              divorced --"
+
+                        MIKE
+              No... I should’ve stayed —
+
+                       MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+                                                           86.
+
+
+        "And those bad doctors weren’t your
+        fault. You worked freelance. You
+        couldn’t help If you were stuck
+        with a crappy HMO...
+
+                    MIKE
+        Stop —
+
+                  MIKE'S RECORDED VOICE
+        "And that b.s. about second-hand
+        smoke? Chon! It’s not like puffing
+        a couple cigarettes gives your
+        daughter cancer...”
+
+                  MIKE
+        Jesus! Shut up!
+
+Mike grabs the recorder and hits STOP.
+
+INSERT - RECORDEr
+
+A pause — then the wheels suddenly lurch into motion, by
+themselves.
+
+The grating? scary voice of the Room SCREECHES out.
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+             (over tape recorder)
+        SHUT up YOURSELF, ASSHOLE! YOU
+        WALKED OUT, LIKE A SNIVELING LITTLE
+        PUSSY! WALKED OUT ON YOUR WIFE,
+        YOUR FATHER, YOUR FRIENDS...
+
+                  MIKE
+             (bitter)
+        I was sparing them —-
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        YOU’RE A MISERABLE LIAR!
+
+Mike stares desolately.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I — I was searching...
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        SEARCHING FOR WHAT? FOR SOMETHING
+        THAT COULD PROVE YOU WRONG?
+
+MIKE
+
+Mike sighs. Beaten.
+                                                                87.
+
+
+                         MIKE
+             Yes.
+
+     Suddenly — RIIIIIINNGG!
+
+     He spins.
+
+     THE FAX MACHINE
+
+     starts whirring. It's LCD screen says, "Receiving”.
+
+     PAPER begins feeding.
+
+     Mike peers, confused.
+
+     TIGHT - FAX MACHINE
+
+     Something begins coining into the output tray.
+
+     Not a piece of paper.
+
+     But his daughter's PINK BUTTERFLY NIGHTGOWN. Stained with
+     mucus, blood, all the liquids of her dying.
+
+     SHOOMI It's ejected from the machine, into Mike's hands.
+
+                         MIKE
+             AHHHHH!!!
+
+     Mike tries to push it off, freaked, but the mucus on the
+     nightgown clings to his hands.
+
+     Mike shakes it, revulsed. He desperately races away —
+
+
+54   INT. BATHROOM                                                    54
+
+     Into the. bathroom. Mike throws the nightie in the sink,
+     violently turning on the water.
+
+     FWOOSH! Water pours out, everywhere.
+
+     Mike shudders to tear the nightgown away. It comes loose,
+     discolored fluids floating in the sink...
+
+     Frightened, Mike backs out, SLAMMING the door.
+
+
+55   INT. LIVING ROOM                                                 55
+
+     Mike bolts back in, shivering. He can SEE HIS BREATH.
+                                                           88.
+
+
+The Thermostat has dropped to 32 degrees.
+
+Water droplets are FROZEN AROUND THE ROOM. A weird, almost
+Christmas-like atmosphere.
+
+Mike blinks. He stares up.
+
+THE WALL'S CRACK
+
+has grown. The fissures cover the walls, ceiling and floor.
+
+Like a spiderweb.
+
+THE CLOCK
+
+keeps ticking down. 16:41... 16:40... 16:39...
+
+MIKE
+
+seems lost. Eyes blank. Surrendered, he lies on the floor,
+spreading his arms in the frost like a child making an ice
+angel...
+
+Then, a distant voice, like a dream...
+
+                  LILY (O.S.)
+        Can you hear me...?
+
+Mike bolts up, dazed. He wheels around.
+
+ANGLE - HIS COMPUTER
+
+is working again! Lily’s glitchy IMAGE is on the SCREEN!
+
+                    MIKE
+        Lily?!
+
+Mike rushes over, astonished. She smiles to see him.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Mike! Jesus! I've been trying you
+        to get through...
+
+                  MIKE
+        Did you call the police?
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        They're at the hotel.
+
+                  MIKE
+        They're... w-why aren't they here?
+                                                           89.
+
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Didn't you say the Dolphin —
+
+                  MIKE
+        Right! Yes —
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        You're sure?
+
+                  MIKE
+        Of course I’m sure! Please! Send
+        them to 1408!
+
+Lily bites her lip, scared.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Mike, they're in 1408. The room's
+        empty.
+
+We PUSH IN TO MIKE. His blood freezes, terrified.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Th — that’s impossible.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Mike, where the hell are you?!
+
+Mike looks all around.
+
+Suddenly everything in the room looks more menacing.
+Jagged.
+
+Mike’s face collapses to a whisper.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I... don't know,
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Don’t panic! We can figure this
+        out.
+
+Mike blanches. Hands shaking, he picks up the room FILE.
+
+Vintage PHOTOS of grisly 1408 DEATH SCENES; A MILITARY MAN.
+A YOUNG EXECUTIVE IN A DERBY. A CUTE WOMAN.
+
+All bloodied and gone.
+
+                  MIKE
+        No, we can't.
+             (morose)
+        I'm going to die.
+                                                        90.
+
+
+ON THE COMPUTER
+
+Lily goes frantic.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        You 1 re freaking! Look, don 11
+        move! I can get there in fifteen
+        minutes -—
+
+Mike glances at the CLOCK. 14:51... 14:50...
+
+He shudders.
+
+                  MIKE
+        That’11 be too late.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        No it WON'T! I'll check every room!
+        M-maybe you got the numbers mixed-
+        up. You're in 1480, or 1804...
+
+                  MIKE
+             (emphatic)
+        Lily, please stay away! I don't
+        want anything to happen to you —
+
+This admission catches them both by surprise.
+
+Beat — then she flashes a tender smile.
+
+                  LILY (OVER VIDEOLINK)
+        Well... I feel the same way. See
+        you soon -
+
+CLICK! She signs off.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Lily? Lily!!!
+
+He shakes the computer...
+
+When suddenly — WHUMPIJ The ENTIRE ROOM SHAKES, as if by a
+huge EARTHQUAKE.
+
+WIDE
+
+PLASTER falls from the ceiling. Furniture and lamps CRASH.
+
+The entire FLOOR begins to buckle and crack.
+
+Mike loses his footing and stumbles to the ground. His head
+strikes the floor with a sickening CRACK!
+                                                           91.
+
+
+CLOSEUP - MIKE
+
+THUD.
+
+His eyes shut —- then reopen, dazed. He looks up,
+disoriented and childlike.
+
+ABOVE
+
+A light frost is falling. ICE CRYSTALS form on his hair.
+
+Then, the ARMOIRE swivels into view... and comes DOWN.
+
+Yikes!! Mike LURCHES out of the way, as — SMASH! — the
+massive cabinet crashes to the floor, splintering.
+
+Mike groggily leaps to his feet. He gazes around.
+
+THE SUITE
+
+is a complete wreck. Broken furniture, collapsed ceiling
+and walls.
+
+The floor has BOWED around the bed, which lies at a slant.
+
+Mike's feet are in liquid. A sludgy half-frozen muck. His
+eyes follow the source of the water. Puddled in the
+corner... then up... trickling down the wall... leading to
+
+THE PAINTING OF THE GHOST SHIP
+
+Which is now PHOTO-REALISTIC and ALIVE. Tossing in the
+waves!
+
+The jaundiced, starved faces of the sailors are MOVING.
+They SCREAM, frenzied. They're all now the VICTIMS FROM
+1408: The Natty Man in suspenders. The Factory Owner. And
+most prominently, Kevin O’Malley, hands on the tiller, his
+eves boring straight at us.
+
+Chilled, Mike turns —
+
+THE PAINTING OF THE HUNT
+
+The dogs are ravenous, BARKING! Tearing their masters to
+pieces. The men moan. The horses run off.
+
+THE PAINTING OF MOTHER AND CHILD
+
+The blue baby’s mouth is twisted, teeth filed to RAZOR
+SHARP POINTS. The mother weeps with despair as the baby
+HISSES and attacks her.
+                                                               92.
+
+
+     Mike covers his eyes, unable to take it.
+
+     ON THE PAINTINGS
+
+     The CRIES grow louder, more insistent. The ship rocks
+     harder.
+
+     The ocean pounds.
+
+     The SHRIEKING grows.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Stop! STOP!!
+
+     Unhinged, Mike SLAMS his fist at the painting, trying to
+     stop it. His knuckles BREAK the glass, ripping the canvas.
+
+     Suddenly — FLOOOOOOSH! SEA WATER BLASTS FROM THE PAINTING!
+
+     LIKE THE FORCE OF A HUNDRED FIRE HOSES.
+
+     MIKE
+
+     gets SLAMMED against the wall.
+
+     The ROOM FILLS with water, at an incredible speed. Higher,
+     higher —
+
+     WIDE
+
+     Mike struggles to float above. Furniture bangs around —
+
+     Mike fights the current. Debris swallows him up. Fatigued,
+     delirious, he starts muttering the Act of Contrition:
+
+                       MIKE
+             "0 my God, I am heartily sorry for
+             having offended Thee, and I detest
+             all my sins...
+
+     Mike's will gives out. He gets pulled under.
+
+
+56   INT. 1408 - UNDERWATER                                          56
+
+     All is grim, like slow-motion. Murky and green.
+
+     Underwater, Mike turns, and sees the back wall has
+     vanished.
+
+     In its place is the GHOST SHIP. Sinking downward toward a
+     black abyss.
+                                                                93.
+
+
+     Mike gapes, his eyes bulging from lack of air.
+
+     Everything swirls. He spins, getting sucked deeper...
+
+     His arms tire. Bubbles pap from his mouth, as he begins to
+     breathe in water. Mike's body goes limp. He’s pulled into
+     the ocean's darkness...
+
+     All seems lost... the end imminent, when —
+
+     A strange object unexpectedly appears.
+
+     Foggy, Mike looks up.
+
+     Then — he gasps.
+
+     IT’S MIKE'S SURFBOARD
+
+     Hovering above him, like a godsend.
+
+     Mike is startled, confused — but grateful. He lurches and
+     grabs it — hanging on — his last chance for life. When, it
+     unexpectedly pitches and HAMMERS him in the head.
+
+                                                          CUT TO:
+
+
+57   EXT. BEACH - DAY                                                 57
+
+     ECU - MIKE'S FACE
+
+     Mike lies mutely on his back, on the sand.
+     Hyperventilating.
+
+     Winded. Eyes glassy.
+
+     But, alive.
+
+     He's back in the beach scene from., the beginning.
+
+     Then... a faint BUZZING. Mike looks up.
+
+     IN THE SKY
+
+     The small AIRPLANE flies overhead, towing the BANNER. It
+     passes through the brightness, in sharp silhouette.
+
+     Mike squints, trying to read it.
+
+     The plane crosses a cloud, and the banner becomes readable:
+
+     "CHEAP AUTO INSURANCE CALL 1-800-222-1408"
+                                                               94.
+
+
+     MIKE'S
+
+     eyes widen.
+
+     TIGHT THE BANNER
+
+     The four numbers: ”1408"
+
+     MIKE
+
+     trembles, everything spinning, his memories collapsing.
+
+     Nothing making any sense...
+
+     His chest tightens. His brain feels like it's going to
+     explode. Then —
+
+     A wet LIFEGUARD thrusts his head into view.
+
+                        LIFEGUARD
+              Sir! Can you breathe? Is there any
+              water in your lungs?
+                   (beat)
+              Can you focus??
+
+     Mike’s jaw quivers, but forms no words. Utterly drained, he
+     passes out.
+
+                                                    DISSOLVE TO:
+
+     ECU - MIKE
+
+     His head is bandaged and his face drawn, but his breathing
+     is even.
+
+     Slowly, he opens his eyes.
+
+
+58   INT. HOSPITAL ROOM ~ DAY                                        58
+
+     Mike is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. A tree
+     is outside the window.
+
+                        LILY (0.S.)
+              He's alive...!
+
+     Mike turns. Sitting in a chair, watching him, is Lily. she
+     stands, relieved. Smiling anxiously.
+
+                        MIKE
+              W-w-where am I?
+                                                          95.
+
+
+                  LILY
+        You're in a hospital.
+
+Mike wipes his eyes, confused.
+
+                  MIKE
+        In New York?
+
+                  LILY
+        New York??
+             (puzzled)
+        No — Miami. You got hit in the head
+        with your board. You've been out
+        for a day.
+
+Mike tries to takes this in, uncomprehending. She comes
+over.
+
+                  LILY
+        They called me, so I flew down,
+             (awkward shrug)
+        Guess I'm still listed as your next
+        of kin...
+
+                  MIKE
+        So I’m not in New York?
+
+                  LILY
+        No! Why do you keep saying that?!
+
+                  MIKE
+        Because I thought... God, it was so
+        vivid. I must've gotten banged in
+        the brains so hard, all my circuits
+        fried.
+             (trying to focus)
+        I was trapped... I was dying... in
+        this weird hotel. The Dolphin —
+
+                    LILY
+        The what?
+
+                  MIKE
+        The Dolphin. The one on the
+        southeast corner of 61st and 8th.
+
+                  LILY
+             (beat)
+        Mike, that's a Banana-Republic.
+
+His expression falls.
+
+She trembles, then starts weeping.
+                                                         96.
+
+
+                  MIKE
+        Hey. Why are you crying?
+
+                   LILY
+        Because — I haven't seen you for so
+        long. And then -- we’re here, like
+        this:
+              (soft)
+        In another hospital.
+
+His eyes get watery. She gets emotional, then suddenly
+hurries into the bathroom.
+
+IN THE BATHROOM
+
+Lily grabs a tissue and wipes her face. She stares in the
+mirror. A final sniffle, then she tentatively returns,
+
+BACK AT THE BED
+
+                  LILY
+        Do you know it's been three years?
+
+                   MIKE
+        Since —
+
+                   LILY
+        Since...
+
+They both trail off. She peers at him, still terribly hurt.
+
+Her voice drops to a hush.
+
+                  LILY
+        Mike, why’d you leave?
+
+                  MIKE
+             (somber, he whispers)
+        Because... every time I looked at
+        you, I saw her face.
+
+Lily shudders, silent.
+
+Mike reaches out... straining... and takes her hand.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I'm sorry. Sorry I blew it... sorry
+        for everything...
+
+                  LILY
+        Everything?
+                                                               97.
+
+
+                       MIKE
+             For — Grade...
+
+                       LILY
+             You had nothing to do with Grade.
+
+     He looks in her eyes, seeing the truth of his life.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Then — I'm sorry for running away.
+             For making mistakes. For abandoning
+             everyone...
+
+     CLOSEUP - LILT
+
+     She nods, acceptingly.
+
+                       LILY
+             You should get some rest.
+
+                                                           CUT TO:
+
+
+59   INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR - LATER                                  59
+
+     Lily huddles by herself, talking on a CELLPHONE.
+
+                       LILY
+                  (on cellphone)
+             I think I'm gonna stay a couple
+             extra days.
+                  (beat; embarrassed)
+             No, nothing's going on. But Mike
+             had a concussion and he's talking
+             kind of strange. Almost
+             hallucinatory...
+                  (beat)
+             He might need a little help.
+
+                                                           CUT TO:
+
+
+60   INT. RENTAL CAR - DRIVING - DAY                                 60
+
+     Lily drives a white rental car. Mike sits in the passenger
+     seat staring, a large bandage across his temple.
+
+     The boulevard is quite uninspiring: Overgrown palm trees,
+     graffitied Cuban markets, faded pink motels.
+
+                       LILY
+             Remind me again. Why do you live
+             here ?
+                                                               98.
+
+
+                       MIKE
+             I can be anonymous.
+
+     She laughs.
+
+
+61   EXT. BEACH PARKING LOT - DAY                                    61
+
+     Lily drops Mike off at his car. It has two parking tickets.
+
+     He peers out at the turquoise water. In the distance, a
+     dolphin jumps in the waves.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+62   EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY                                      62
+
+     The same fluorescent craphole we saw before. The scene
+     plays just like last time? Mike enters and goes to his-
+     mailbox. He unlocks it, removing a startling amount of
+     MAIL.
+
+     The MAILBOX GUY nods.
+
+                       MAILBOX GUY
+             You've been gone awhile.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Yeah.
+
+     A disinterested beat — then Mike reacts, offput.
+
+
+63   INT. PALM COFFEE SHOP - DAY                                     63
+
+     Mike sits in his corner booth, alone. He's going through
+     months of OPENED MAIL. The table is spread with brochures
+     from haunted hotels and inns... a bill from Saint Joseph's
+     Nursing Home... the Weekly World News...
+
+     Mike slashes an envelope with his letter opener, removing a
+     childish GREETING CARD. It has a cartoon monkey saying "No
+     Monkeying Around! Happy Birthday!"
+
+     Mike reacts, strangely. The oddest sensation...
+
+     He frowns — then suddenly wades through all the hotel mail.
+
+     Frantically digging through photos, flyers... searching...
+     searching...
+                                                              99.
+
+
+64   INT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY                                     64
+
+     The door SLAMS open. Mike barges back in, a bit frenzied.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Did I drop a postcard??
+
+     The Mailbox Guy stares.
+
+                       MAILBOX GUY
+             Uh... nope.
+
+     Perturbed, Mike scans the floor. Then his eyes drift... up,
+     up... to the CEILING. Up there is an AIR VENT.
+
+     Mike is bothered.
+
+
+65   EXT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - SECONDS LATER                           65
+
+     Mike runs out, punching "411" into his CELLPHONE. He paces
+     the sidewalk, bristling with nervous energy.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Yes! In New York City, can I have
+             the number for the Dolphin Hotel??
+
+     Long beat. Then;
+
+                       OPERATOR (V.O.)
+             I have no such listing.
+
+     Mike can't accept this.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Are you sure?
+
+                       OPERATOR (V.O.)
+             Sir ? X have no such listing.
+
+                                                          CUT TO:
+
+
+66   INT. RESEARCH LIBRARY - DAY                                    66
+
+     Mike RUNS up to the research desk. He flags down a
+     LIBRARIAN.
+
+
+67   INT. LIBRARY MICROFICHE ROOM                                   67
+                                                             100.
+
+
+     Mike frantically scrolls through MICROFICHE, pages blurring
+     by. Suddenly, he finds the ancient New York Herald-Tribune
+     front page. He leans in — but the headline has changed.
+
+     Now it says "FACTORY OWNER LEAPS OFF BRIDGE." Underneath is
+     a PHOTO of some cops at a riverbank.
+
+     Mike gasps, disturbed,
+
+                        MIKE
+             No way —
+
+     A moment of dislocation... when he remembers something.
+     Mike whips out his LEGAL PAD. But — now the pages are all
+     EMPTY.
+
+     A spooky pause... when suddenly -— RING!! It’s his
+     CELLPHONE.
+
+     Mike jumps, startled. Quickly, he answers. The screen says
+     "LILY."
+
+                        MIKE
+             H-Hey.
+
+                       LILY (V.O.)
+             I'm just checking up. How are you?
+
+                       MIKE
+             Uh... tell you the truth, I’m
+             questionable...
+
+                       LILY (V.O.)
+                  (concerned)
+             Let's grab a bite.
+
+                                                          CUT TO:
+
+
+68   INT. BEACH RESTAURANT - NIGHT                                  68
+
+     Mike and Lily have dinner at a nice beachfront cafe. Waves
+     crash in the b.g.
+
+                       MIKE
+             It's fuckin' weird. This hotel
+             thing feels so real...
+
+                       LILY
+             Maybe I should drive you back to
+             the hospital -—
+
+                        MIKE
+                                                       101.
+
+
+        No, no — I'm not ill. It’s just...
+        this powerful sense of deja vu. The
+        feeling of something so immediate —
+        yet you know it didn't happen.
+
+He stares, entranced.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I can’t believe I'm sitting here
+        with you.
+
+She slowly smiles.
+
+A WOMAN in a flowered dress passes by. Mike glances — and
+for a FLASH she’s the Portly Lady from 1408.
+
+Huh?
+
+Mike turns — and now she's a CUBAN LADY.
+
+He wipes his eyes, on edge. Questioning himself. He leans
+in to Lily, his voice tremulous. We MOVE IN on the couple.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Did I tell you that Grade was
+        there?
+
+                     LILY
+                (off-guard)
+        No...
+
+                  MIKE
+        Yeah. Can you imagine how strange
+        that is... the sensation that I saw
+        her just a few hours ago?
+
+Lily blinks back tears. She grabs for her wine,
+
+                  LILY
+        S-sounds like one of your books.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I know. Except usually I have to
+        pretend the haunted house is scary.
+             (beat)
+        This time, my trip was imaginary...
+        and it's the most terrifying place
+        I've ever been.
+
+AT THE NEXT TABLE
+
+Two GUYS get up and leave. Left on a plate are the remains
+of a beef burger soaked in red ketchup. A fly buzzes...
+                                                              102.
+
+
+     Mike doesn’t notice.
+
+                       LILY
+             You should write about it.
+
+                       MIKE
+             What? The dream?
+
+                       LILY
+                  (she slowly nods)
+             If it means something to you.
+             Maybe, you've been given a second
+             chance.
+
+     Mike thinks.
+
+     CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
+
+
+69   INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY                                        69
+
+     TIGHT on Mike, rapidly TYPING AWAY at his computer.
+
+     CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
+
+     The computer screen FILLS WITH WORDS. Mike is on fire,
+     ideas pouring out. His face ablaze...
+
+                       MIKE’S VOICE
+             "I grabbed my overnight case. Mr.
+             Olin. I've never seen a ghost and I
+             don’t believe I ever will."
+                  (beat)
+             "Olin smirked. I'm afraid you don't
+             believe in anything. But in 1408 f
+             your unbelief will only render you
+             more vulnerable.”
+
+                                                    DISSOLVE TO:
+
+     LATER
+
+     It's dark outside. The desk is littered with potato chip
+     bags.
+
+                       MIKE’S VOICE
+             "The man wore a 1920's brown wool
+             suit. Suspenders, He pulled the
+             noose round his neck — then
+             jumped...”
+
+     Mike types faster.
+                                                      103.
+
+
+                       MIKE’S VOICE
+             "The window vanished. All evidence
+             of its existence erased..."
+
+     CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
+
+                       MIKE’S VOICE
+             "Kevin O'Malley's throat gushed a
+             sickly rich red..."
+
+     Mike slurps a coffee.
+
+                       MIKE’S VOICE
+             "My narration on the tape recorder
+             became fragmentary, a loop of
+             unease. No longer the voice of a
+             man at work... but of a perplexed
+             individual losing his hold on
+             reality."
+
+
+70   INT. SAM’S OFFICE - DAY                                 70
+
+     Sam grins at his speakerphone. He shouts.
+
+                       SAM
+             Mikey! You sound happy.
+
+                       MIKE (V.O.)
+                  (giddy? on phone)
+             I can't believe it! The work's just
+             pouring out of me! I think I’ve
+             invented some new literary form:
+             The fiction memoir. Autobiography
+             of a nightmare. It's sort of like
+             Capote meets Whitley Strieber.
+
+                       SAM
+             I love it! "In Cold Blood" with
+             aliens!
+                  (gleeful)
+             I wanna put it out to auction —
+             start a bidding war! When can I
+             read it?
+
+                       MIKE (V.O.)
+             Any day. I’ll send it to you the
+             second it’s done.
+
+                                                   CUT TO:
+
+
+71   EXT. MIAMI AIRPORT - DAY                                71
+                                                               104.
+
+
+     Mike is dropping off Lily. She has her bags. A tender smile
+     between them.
+
+                       MIKE
+             I'll see you soon.
+
+     An awkward pause — and then they kiss.
+
+
+72   INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY                                         72
+
+     The laser printer is WHIRRING. Pages come speeding out,
+     crisp and clean.
+
+     Mike reads them proudly.
+
+     LATER
+
+     Mike neatly stacks the sheets. He slides them into a fat
+     manila ENVELOPE.
+
+
+73   INT. CRAPPY CAR - DAY                                            73
+
+     Mike jauntily climbs in his car, clutching the package. He
+     sweeps a pile of junk off the seat, onto the floor. A shred
+     of paper catches his eye — the nursing home bill.
+
+     Hmm. He thinks...
+
+
+74   INT. SAINT JOSEPH'S NURSING HOME - DAY                           74
+
+     An airless lobby. VERY OLD PEOPLE sit unmoving, some in
+     wheelchairs. ORDERLIES silently clean. A TV plays
+     unwatched.
+
+     Mike bursts through the doors. He looks around, lost. All
+     the WOMEN look alike — wrinkled emaciated figures with big
+     glasses and white hair. All the MEN are huddled in
+     bathrobes, faces unshaven, eyes vacant.
+
+     Mike studies the men, trying to decide if one is his
+     father.
+
+     Butithen... he notices his dad in a wheelchair, rolled over
+     by a window. A shell of a man, gazing out...
+
+     Mike’s face falls. Then, he girds himself and hurries over.
+
+                         MIKE
+             Dad?
+                                                            105.
+
+
+     FATHER
+
+     doesn't react. Mike gently approaches.
+
+                        MIKE
+              I haven't... seen you in awhile...
+
+     No response.
+
+     Mike pulls up a chair. He takes his father's veined hand.
+
+                        MIKE
+              Are you doing okay?
+
+     Nothing. No reaction at all. Mike whispers.
+
+                        MIKE
+              Well... I’m actually pretty good.
+              I'm speaking to Lily again...
+
+     The old guy keeps staring out the glass.
+
+                        MIKE
+              And... I've written a new book.
+                   (a careful beat)
+              I think you'd like it.
+
+     A beat. Then —- a brief flicker crosses Father's face. His
+     eyes widen.
+
+                        FATHER
+              Michael...??
+
+     CU - MIKE
+
+     He trembles, touched. A pang of emotion, this briefest of
+     connections meaning so much to him.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+75   INT. MAILBOXES, ETC. - DAY                                    75
+
+     Mike strides back into the mailbox store. The place is
+     cluttered, WORKMEN busy on ladders. The clock says 4:55.
+
+     Mike slams the big envelope down on the counter.
+
+                        MIKE
+              Hi! 1've got a package I need to
+              overnight.
+                                                         106.
+
+
+The Mailbox Guy is turned away from us. He doesn't move.
+
+Mike glances nervously at the clock.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Um — where are the forms I've got
+        to fill out? I really need this in
+        New York tomorrow.
+
+                  MAILBOX GUY’S VOICE
+        I'm sorry, we're closed.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Huh? No! That's wrong.
+             (he points at the clock)
+        It's only five of. I — still have
+        five more minutes!
+
+The Mailbox Guy turns... revealing HE IS ACTUALLY MR. OLIN.
+
+OLIN SMIRKS, OMNISCIENT and ALL-POWERFUL. He takes the
+package.
+
+                  OLIN
+        I’m sorry, Mr. Enslin. Your time is
+        up.
+
+Mike GASPS, stupefied.
+
+                     MIKE
+        Wha...?!!
+
+A WORKMAN
+
+scrapes away some drywall, revealing BUTTERFLY PAPER
+UNDERNEATH.
+
+MIKE
+
+spins, bewildered.
+
+                     MIKE
+        Noooo...!
+
+                  OLIN
+        Oh come, Mr. Enslin. You didn't
+        really think it was just a dream?!
+
+WIDE
+                                                              107.
+
+
+     Another WORKMAN turns, revealing he's the ENGINEER from the
+     hotel. He slams the floor, unveiling BEIGE CARPET
+     underneath.
+
+     ON MIKE'S FACE
+
+     All color drains.
+
+     His expression goes from fear... to realization ... to
+     madness.
+
+     The room starts SPINNING.
+
+     AROUND HIM, the SOUND of CONSTRUCTION BUILDS. Louder,
+     LOUDER, a CRUSH of activity,
+
+     THE ROOM
+
+     spins faster. Every revolution transforms us back to 1408.
+
+     The WALLS all become wallpapered.
+
+     A WORKMAN leers, in a blur becoming Kevin O'Malley.
+
+     Mike staggers, terrified.
+
+     The room spins faster. The Mailbox Store is vanishing.
+
+     The CEILING tile crashes down, revealing 1408's VENT.
+
+     The FURNITURE appears around us.
+
+     The WHIR builds to a high-pitched, painful SHRIEK —
+
+     And THEN —
+
+
+76   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                           76
+
+     The howl suddenly STOPS.
+
+     And Mike is left, collapsed onto the carpet of 1408. Curled
+     in a fetal position, whimpering, confused.
+
+     He slowly lifts his head... and a horrible guttural MOAN
+     passes from his lips.
+
+     He's back.
+
+     THE ROOM IS JUST AS HE LEFT IT. RAVAGED. DRENCHED. LIKE A
+     HURRICANE BLEW THROUGH.
+                                                          108.
+
+
+The unplugged clock keeps ticking down: 4:55... 4:54...
+
+Mike unsteadily rises. He shouts plaintively.
+
+                     MIKE
+           No. NO! I was OUT —
+
+                     VOICE OF THE ROOM
+           WRONG! YOU NEVER LEFT!
+
+Mike jerks, startled.
+
+The voice is behind him. Unnerved, Mike slowly turns. And
+back there... is...
+
+A DOOR
+
+Standing all by itself in the middle of the room.
+
+MIKE
+
+gulps.
+
+Tentative, shaky, he crosses closer...
+
+The door waits. Mike forces himself. Sweating. Heart
+pounding crazy.
+
+Valiantly, hands trembling... he reaches to the handle.
+
+Grimacing with dread, he starts to turn it —
+
+When — his courage lets out. He lets go.
+
+The VOICE snickers.
+
+                     VOICE OF THE ROOM
+           MICHAEL..! YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR
+           SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN. FOR A LIFE
+           AFTER DEATH! WELL, HERE I AM.
+
+THE DOOR HANDLE
+
+starts turning by itself.
+
+Mike shudders.
+
+THE DOOR
+
+slowly opens. Through the crack, we SEE a DEEP, BLACK SPACE
+of a place that exists somewhere other than 1408.
+                                                          109.
+
+
+MIKE
+
+seizes up, aghast.
+
+A DARK SHADOW falls over him...
+
+We DON’T SEE what is revealed behind the door. But Mike
+does.
+
+His FACE beholds a horror no sane person can endure.
+
+His eyes widen. His mouth opens in a silent scream.
+
+His legs buckle under him.
+
+                   MIKE
+         GODDDDDDDDDDDD!!!
+
+Beat.
+
+                   VOICE OF THE ROOM
+         YOU SAID GOD DOESN’T EXIST!
+
+Mike crumples in on himself, finished.
+
+He's cowering, beaten.
+
+He covers his head, preparing for a fatal blow. We MOVE
+CLOSER... CLOSER... until his FACE IS IN TIGHT CLOSE-UP.
+
+Readying himself for an unimaginable fate.
+
+The tension of the moment builds to a climax. The end
+imminent. And then —
+
+A melancholy MUSIC.
+
+                   KAREN CARPENTER'S VOICE
+              (singing)
+         "We've only just begun... "
+
+Huh? Mike looks up.
+
+IN FRONT OF HIM
+
+The door has DISAPPEARED.
+
+In its place is
+
+GRACIE
+                                                          110.
+
+
+Dressed in her dirty pink nightgown. She's pale, skeletally
+thin, her hair falling out.
+
+She looks at Mike and smiles. A smile that makes her face
+look even more skull-like.
+
+                    GRACIE
+        Daddy...?
+
+                  MIKE
+             (anguished)
+        You’re not real!!
+
+He backs away. Hurt, she weakly reaches to touch him...
+
+                  GRACIE
+        I need help.
+
+                  MIKE
+        You're not Grade!!
+
+                  GRACIE
+             (soft)
+        I wet myself.
+
+Tears spring to Mike's eyes.
+
+Fighting this, he steps back.
+
+                                                          100,
+
+                  GRACIE
+        Please. I'm cold.
+
+Mike can’t stand this.
+
+She shivers, her little body wispy...
+
+                  GRACIE
+        So cold...
+
+Mike’s face caves. Suddenly overpowered by feelings, he
+RUSHES FORWARD and GRABS her tightly.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Oh Grade, Grade, Grade...
+
+TIGHT - MIKE AND GRACIE
+
+His eyes are shut, clinging to her tiny body. The most
+electric thing he’s ever felt.
+                                                        111.
+
+
+She speaks, barely a whisper.
+
+                   GRACIE
+         It won’t let me stay.
+
+He looks up, as she convulses violently. Her face damp with
+sweat. He touches her forehead — it's burning up.
+
+                   MIKE
+         No! Honey, no one’s gonna take you.
+
+Her eyes brim with tears of pain.
+
+                   GRACIE
+         Do you love me, Daddy?
+
+                   MIKE
+         You know I do!
+
+                   GRACIE
+         I wish we could stay together. You,
+         me, Mommy —
+
+                   MIKE
+         We can! I promise we CAN!
+
+Happy, she brushes her hand to his cheek.
+
+CLOSE ON - MIKE'S CHEEK
+
+As she withdraws her hand, it leaves a TRAIL OF ASH.
+
+GRACIE
+
+unexpectedly collapses like a balloon that's lost all air.
+
+                    MIKE
+         Grade?
+
+She falls back, eyes frozen. She's stopped breathing.
+
+                    MIKE
+         GRACIE?!
+
+Mike shakes her, but she is still.
+
+                    MIKE
+         NO!!!
+
+Mike immediately begins CPR. He puts his mouth over hers,
+breathing air into her lost lungs.
+                                                          112.
+
+
+                  MIKE
+        Not again! Goddammit, NOT AGAIN!
+
+He furiously begins CPR. He begs, between breaths.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Stay... stay...
+
+MIKE
+
+keeps pressing on her chest. Through his face, we see vain
+hope. Despair. And finally... loss.
+
+Shaken, he pulls his hands away. They are COVERED IN ASH.
+
+ABOVE
+
+Grade's body has TURNED TO DUST. She is gone.
+
+Mike is immobile. Hands gray with the remains of his child.
+
+His heart is empty. Absolute sorrow. Grieving, eyes sunken,
+he looks up. Just wanting it to end.
+
+THE CLOCK
+
+ticks down. 00:10... 00:09... 00:08...
+
+MIKE
+
+slowly reacts, sobbing.
+
+THE CLOCK
+
+reaches the finish: 00:03... 00:02... 00:01... 00:00.
+
+And —
+
+MIKE’S EYES
+
+go wide. And??
+
+THE CLOCK
+
+starts FLICKERING. The LED numbers flash randomly...
+
+MIKE
+
+waits despondently. Around him, the ash disappears. The
+gray dust dissipates, like a dream, into nothingness.
+                                                        113.
+
+
+Mike stares, uncomprehending. Until he peers up — and
+GASPS.
+
+WIDE VIEW OF THE ROOM
+
+1408 has RETURNED TO ITS OPENING STATE. No water damage.
+
+Windows back. Everything restored to when we first entered.
+
+The cloak radio RESETS TO 60:00. It begins counting down
+again: 59:59... 59:58... 59:57...
+
+MIKE
+
+goes into shock. Dumbstruck. His voice cracking.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Why don't... you just kill me?
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        BECAUSE ALL THINGS COME DOW TO
+        CHOICE.
+
+Mike trembles, utterly desolate.
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        YOU GET TO RELIVE THE SAME HOUR.
+        AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.
+
+The THERMOSTAT starts rising: 85... 90... 95...
+
+Mike’s skin gets clammy. He staggers, lightheaded.
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        UNLESS, YOU CHOOSE TO END IT.
+
+Something FALLS right behind him. Mike turns —
+
+A ROPE NOOSE
+
+hangs, attached to the ceiling. Below it is a chair.
+
+IKE
+
+nods, acquiescing.
+
+The TEMPERATURE is getting hellish: 115... 120... 125...
+
+Mike is weeping. Confused. Unable to think clearly, he
+steps onto the chair. He slowly draws the rope around, his
+neck.
+                                                         114.
+
+
+Mike stands there, eyes glassy. Pondering his fate.
+
+But — not jumping. Emotions and regrets pound through his
+body.
+
+He grips the rope tight... then suddenly pulls it off,
+crying.
+
+                  MIKE
+        I... can’t.
+             (distraught)
+        I'm sorry! I just... can't do it.
+
+The VOICE booms, furious.
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+        THEN YOU LEAVE ME NO OPTION!
+
+The TV suddenly turns on.
+
+ON THE TV SCREEN
+
+We see Lily, guilelessly entering the Dolphin lobby.
+
+MIKE'S FACE
+
+face falls, horrified.
+
+                   MIKE
+        Lily...?
+
+                  VOICE OF THE ROOM
+             (mocking)
+        YES, "LILY"! I'LL TAKE HER IN
+        TRADE.
+
+                   MIKE
+        N-NO!
+
+ON THE TV
+
+Lily's cellphone sharply RINGS. She answers.
+
+                   LILY
+        Hello?
+
+We hear MIKE'S SIMULATED VOICE.
+
+                  MIKE’S VOICE
+             (over cellphone)
+        Lily, it’s me.
+                                                            115.
+
+
+                        LILY
+               Mike?
+
+                         MIKE’S VOICE
+               Hurry! Come up to my room.
+
+     THE REAL MIKE
+
+     gapes in horror.
+
+                         MIKE
+               Leave her out of this!!!
+
+     ON THE TV
+
+     Lily enters the elevator. The doors shutting...
+
+     MIKE
+
+     starts freaking out. He spins, then notices his CELLPHONE
+     on the floor. Its screen flickers.
+
+     Ah! Mike looks around, paranoid, then grabs the phone. Its
+     power blinks. Frantic, he hurriedly DIALS Lily. He bites
+     his nails. KING! RING...!
+
+     ON LILY
+
+     She rides up the elevator, oblivious.
+
+     ON MIKE
+
+                         MIKE
+               C' mon, c’mon...
+
+     More RINGING. Then — a MAN answers, through garbled STATIC.
+
+                        MAN (V.O.).
+               Hello?
+
+     A discombobulated beat. It’s a wrong number, but...
+     strangely familiar.
+
+                         MIKE
+               Hello?! Who -- who is this???
+
+                                                       INTERCUT:
+
+
+77   INT. RESEARCH LIBRARY - THE PAST                              77
+                                                               116.
+
+
+     It's Mike back in the microfiche room, in the past,
+     receiving the call. All he hears is STATIC.
+
+                        MIKE
+              Hello! This is Mike Enslin. Is
+              anybody there?
+
+                                                    CUT BACK TO:
+
+
+78   INT. 1408 - PRESENT                                              78
+
+     Mike blanches, realizing. He shouts deliriously.
+
+                        MIKE
+              My God! Don't come to the Dolphin!
+              Stay out of 140—
+
+     His phone suddenly SPARKS, shorting. It FLAMES, burning
+     him.
+
+     He cries out and drops it. Mike turns worriedly to
+
+     THE TV
+
+     Lily is still in the elevator, rising. Floors go by: 8...
+     9...
+
+     MIKE
+
+     gets a galvanized look.
+
+                        MIKE
+              I won't let you have her.
+
+     Incensed, he runs toward the door.
+
+     CRAZY ANGLE
+
+     Suddenly — the ROOM PIVOTS, slanting to 45 DEGREES!
+
+     Mike trips, falling. SLAM!
+
+     The floor is crazy. Mike tries to get up, attempting to
+     climb. His naked hands fall on hot carpet, singeing him.
+
+     Mike SCREAMS in pain. But he keeps going.
+
+                        VOICE OF THE ROOM
+              YOU CAN'T SAVE HER. SHE'S DOOMED!
+
+     ON THE TV
+                                                          117.
+
+
+The elevator opens on the 14th floor. Lily steps out...
+
+WIDE - THE ROOM
+
+Mike crawls upward, his equilibrium reeling.
+
+The SLANT is now INSANE. The floor is practically vertical.
+
+Mike hangs onto the furniture, like a rock climber.
+
+Using all his might, he hoists himself.
+
+The thermostat keeps rising. 140. 145...
+
+Mike struggles to move. He can barely breathe through the
+sweltering heat. He looks up — and the living room has
+LENGTHENED. The DOOR now seems a football field away. Just
+a speck.
+
+MIKE
+
+moans. His feet STICK to the hot melting carpet. He wants
+to move, but collapses. The fabric burns into his hands.
+
+The door is hopelessly far away.
+
+In anguish, unable to crawl, he weakly glances at the TV.
+
+ON THE TV
+
+Lily walks down the hall. Approaching...
+
+CLOSEUP - MIKE
+
+In a final gasp at salvation, Mike whispers.
+
+                  MIKE
+        Lily. Go...
+
+ON THE TV
+
+Lily takes a step, then suddenly stops.
+
+Like she heard him.
+
+She contemplates this sensation, her face a mix of strange
+emotions. Then — she suddenly turns and LEAVES.
+
+MIKE
+
+sobs, relieved.
+                                                          118.
+
+
+LILY
+
+runs. Fast, faster.
+
+THE ROOM
+
+THUNDERS, furious.
+
+Mike is overwrought. Volatile, rapturous. He slowly looks
+up... and then his expression darkens.
+
+                     MIKE
+           I know I’ve lived the life of a
+           selfish man...
+                (pause)
+           But I don’t have to die that way.
+
+Mike reaches for the fallen BOOK OF MATCHES.
+
+He stares — then rips out a match and STRIKES it against
+the covert with its funny little doorman.
+
+An instant, TINY FLAME.
+
+                     MIKE
+           Maybe this room isn’t real. Maybe
+           I'm not even real.
+                (wheezing, desperate)
+           But this fire... is real.
+
+Mike crawls across the floor. Holding the match out,
+straining to touch it to a CURTAIN...
+
+When — WHOOSH! A HUSH OF WIND from the air conditioning
+vent blows it out.
+
+                     VOICE OF THE ROOM
+           YOU’D JUST BE KILLING YOURSELF.
+
+Mike considers this... then nods.
+
+                     MIKE
+           As long as I kill you too, I can
+           rest in peace.
+
+Suddenly, Mike grabs Olin’s.
+
+COGNAC BOTTLE
+
+Mike pops the cork, then lights the ENTIRE BOOK OF MATCHES.
+                                                            119.
+
+
+     The FLAME BLAZES bright, a crazy glow under his face. Mike
+     shoves it in the bottle, lighting the flammable liquid.
+     Mike spins and HURLS the MOLOTOV COCKTAIL.
+
+     BLAMMMM!!! The entire ROOM explodes in flames.
+
+     WIDE
+
+     The FIRE instantly spreads, igniting the carpet and
+     furniture.
+
+     FSSST! The SPRINKLERS COME ON — the room's desperate
+     attempt to save itself. Mike laughs manically.
+
+                       MIKE
+             Too LATE! You’ll never hurt anyone
+             again.
+
+     The CURTAILS flare up, blindingly orange. The blaze SEARS,
+     the walls erupt.
+
+     Mike stands inside the inferno, seething. In a final act,
+     he clicks on his recorder:
+
+                       MIKE
+             "The decor is tattered and the
+             staff surly... but on a Shiver
+             Scale, I award the Dolphin Hotel
+             ten skulls."
+
+     The flames congeal, then DETONATE.
+
+
+79   EXT. HOTEL WINDOW - SAME TIME                                 79
+
+     KABOOM! A thundering FIREBALL blasts out the window.
+
+
+80   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                         80
+
+     Mike is obliterated from view.
+
+     The raging flames scorch the ceiling, then get sucked into
+     the AIR VENT.
+
+
+81   INT. VENT                                                     81
+
+     Pulsing FIRE courses through the vents. Splitting in all
+     directions.
+                                                               120.
+
+
+82   INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - SAME TIME                                  82
+
+     Fire ALARMS go off.
+
+     Hotel doors start SLAMMING open. Frantic GUESTS rush toward
+     the exits, SCREAMING, pushing each other.
+
+
+83   EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - UPPER STORIES - SAME TIME                   83
+
+     Flames POUR OUT of the top stories. Smoke fills the sky.
+
+
+84   EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - AT THE STREET - SAME TIME                   84
+
+     Sirens WAIL. GUESTS come flying out the doors, many in
+     pajamas, furiously racing for the street.
+
+
+85   INT. 1408 - SAME TIME                                            85
+
+     Flames ripple. In the broiling heat, the room begins to
+     MELT.
+
+     The walls sag, sinking into strange, unpleasant curves.
+
+     The paintings begin to bend. Moans cry out.
+
+     The chandelier droops like a glob of spit.
+
+     The clock radio melts into the floor.
+
+     The yellow-orange LIGHT brightens almost painfully hot —
+     and then, for a final second — we glimpse Mike.
+
+                       GRACIE5S VOICE
+             Daddy, everyone dies.
+
+     Mike's eyes glisten. A brief, satisfied smile... and then
+     he’s swallowed by the fire.
+
+
+86   INT. DOLPHIN LOBBY - . SAME TIME                                 86
+
+     The ceiling COLLAPSES, burning. -SHOUTS and SCREAMS, as the
+     last GUESTS shove- their way out. We MOVE THROUGH the
+     blazing debris. Past the ash, through the charred
+     furniture, toward the Reception counter...
+
+
+87   INT. OLIN’S OFFICE - SAME TIME                                   87
+                                                              121.
+
+
+     The beautiful oak paneling is ablaze. Shelves fall, rare
+     books crumbling into dust.
+
+     Sitting amid the devastation, perfectly calm at his desk,
+     is Olin* Like the captain of the Titanic, he is unruffled.
+     He leans back in his chair, at peace, enjoying a cigar. Am
+     amber brandy in his hand.
+
+                        OLIN
+              Well done, Mr. Enslin. Well done!
+
+     He swirls the brandy in its snifter, then takes a slow sip.
+
+     Ahh...
+
+     Until, oddly RING! It’s an interrupting PHONECALL. Olin
+     stares quizzically, then begrudgingly puts down his brandy.
+
+     INSERT - THE SNIFTER
+
+     It gets placed on the desk upon a PILE OF POSTCARDS. The
+     same Dolphin Hotel postcard that Mike received.
+
+     ANGLE - OLIN
+
+     He answers his phone, crisp and professional.
+
+                        OLIN
+              Good evening. Dolphin Hotel.
+
+     Olin listens, then shrugs.
+
+                        OLIN
+              No, I'm so sorry. We're not
+              accepting reservations at this
+              time.
+
+     Olin gently hangs up the phone. Then he takes a puff of his
+     cigar.
+
+     Behind him, the walls CAVE IN.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+88   EXT. DOLPHIN HOTEL - LATER                                      88
+
+     The FIRE DEPARTMENT is in front, spraying the building
+     down.
+
+     Hook-and-ladders fill the street.
+                                                              122.
+
+
+     POLICEMEN hold back the shivering guests. We TRACK PAST
+     their bewildered faces — cold, frightened, tired —- until
+     we land on one woman, off to herself.
+
+     Lily. She gazes up at the Hotel. Then, she sadly speaks.
+
+                       LILY
+             Goodbye, Mike.
+
+                                                    DISSOLVE TO:
+
+
+89   EXT. CEMETERY - DAY                                             89
+
+     A small funeral, under gray skies.
+
+     A DOZEN people are huddled around a fresh grave, watching
+     the coffin get lowered into the ground.
+
+     Lily’s face is withdrawn. Not overwrought... but utterly
+     drained. She stares, then drops a flower on the casket.
+
+     S’am gives her a supportive hug.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+90   INT. MIKE’S OFFICE - DAY                                        90
+
+     The grubby office is filled with boxes. Sam and Lily are
+     silently packing up Mike's belongings.
+
+     There are hundreds of books. Cameras. A sound meter. A
+     chipped Edgar Allen Poe award. Lily sighs.
+
+                       LILY
+             You live a life, and all that's
+             left behind are boxes of junk.
+
+     Sam closes a box.
+
+                       SAM
+             At least he went out in a blaze,
+
+                       LILY
+             That's not funny.
+
+                       SAM
+             No, I'm sorry. I — I wasn’t trying
+             to be funny.
+                  (genuine)
+                                                               123.
+
+
+             What I meant was — he went out like
+             one of his characters.
+                  (he sighs)
+             It’s just a shame he won’t be
+             around to write about it.
+
+     On the desk is a cute framed PHOTO of Lily, Mike and Grade
+     in happier times. Lily stares, then takes it for herself.
+
+                                                         CUT TO:
+
+
+91   EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN - DAY                                     91
+
+     A bustling New York street. Sam shuffles up, looking a bit
+     weathered. He enters a gleaming office building.
+
+
+92   INT. LITERARY AGENCY - SAME TIME                                 92
+
+     Sam enters his office, in a haze. His Secretary looks up.
+
+                       SECRETARY
+             How was the trip?
+
+                       SAM
+                  (he shoots her a look)
+             It was a funeral.
+
+     Sam goes to an overflowing INBOX on her desk, piled with
+     mail.
+
+     He grabs the mail and drifts aimlessly away.
+
+     He flips through the papers. Publishers Weekly...
+     catalogs... New York Review of Books. Sam goes into his
+     office —
+
+
+93   INT. SAM’S OFFICE                                                93
+
+     and wades to the end of the mail. Suddenly he reaches a big
+     manila envelope — and freezes.
+
+     INSERT - ENVELOPE
+
+     The return address is "ENSLIN"
+
+     ANGLE - SAM
+                                                       124.
+
+
+He gapes in disbelief. A moment of dislocation...
+struggling to process what this means... then he kicks the
+door shut.
+
+Shaking, Sam sits at his desk. He stares at the package,
+then slowly, with utmost care, unseals the flap. He
+tremblingly reaches inside... and pulls out Mike's
+completed pages.
+
+Sam gasps, overcome, and drops them. We SLOWLY PUSH IN TO
+the pile of laser-printed pages, crisp and elegant. The
+cover page is simple:
+
+"14:08"
+
+by Mike Enslin
+
+                                                  FADE OUT.
+
+THE END
+
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