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