DMITRI
Something with the space program? Like a satellite or-- what are they saying down there?
KHOMYUK
I don't know. No one's answering the phone.
Khomyuk and Dmitri reali ze at the same time. She puts the receiver down on the table, and now he can hear it too.
ring ring.
ring ring.
ring ring.
ring ring. Oh god.
The ring of the the unanswered phone grows LOUDER and LOUDER, blending into the sound of A SIREN as we CUT TO:
207 EXT. PRIPYAT HOSPITAL - MORNING 207
An EMERGENCY VEHICLE screeches to a halt in front of the building. We follow-- handheld-- chaos-- as emergency workers WHEEL a patient rapidly into:
208 INT. PRIPYAT HOSPITAL - ENTRANCE - CONTINUOUS 208
Madness. A war zone. The building is choked with people: firemen, plant workers, men, women, children, babies...
Some people are vomiting. Others are passed out. Children screaming. ZINCHENKO pushes through the crowd. Issuing instructions to a frantic PRIPYAT NURSE who follows her.
ZINCHENKO Get everyone started on an IV.
PRIPYAT NURSE We don't have enough.
ZINCHENKO All the children then.
PRIPYAT NURSE We don't have enough.
ZINCHENKO (snaps) As many as you can! Just—
(looks around) Where's the old man?
PRIPYAT NURSE He's set up a burn ward in 16.
Shit. Zinchenko leaves the panicking nurse...
209 INT. MAKESHIFT BURN WARD - MOMENTS LATER 209
Men on gurneys. Some are screaming in pain.
Zinchenko ENTERS... wobbles slightly in a puddle of vomit on the floor. Fuck. Regains her balance and sees:
THE OLD DOCTOR - dabbing at VASILY'S FACE with a wet sponge, which he's dipping in a basin of WHITE FLUID.
ZINCHENKO What are you doing? What is that?
OLD DOCTOR Milk. Much better than water.
My god. Zinchenko scans the men. We recognize Vasily. Akimov. Toptunov. Sees the patterns of the burns on their skin. Bodies swollen. Skin strangely tanned. Dark.
Zinchenko grabs the sponge out of the old doctor's hand. Flings it aside. Then starts PULLING Vasily's BOOTS off.
OLD DOCTOR Have you lost your mind?
ZINCHENKO These are radiation burns. Their clothes are contaminated.
Everyone stares in silence. Unticlass="underline"
ZINCHENKO
HELP ME.
The nurses are jarred into action. As they strip away pants, jackets, helmets, shirts, socks, underwear...
ZINCHENKO
Get it all off. We're taking it down to the basement.
The old doctor watches in utter confusion. The basement?
210 INT. THE BASEMENT - MOMENTS LATER 210
Feet STAMPEDE down the winding stairway.
EQUIPMENT and CLOTHING hits the concrete floor in a jumbled pile. The nurses run back up for more as other nurses come down and toss more clothing.
Zinchenko hurls her handful of clothing to the floor. Then winces. Checks her hand where she was holding Vasily's BOOT. Her palm is already BRIGHT RED.
She looks up to see a nurse staring. Are you all right?
ZINCHENKO Let's get the rest.
211
Zinchenko heads back for more. The nurse follows, and:
211 OMITTED212 EXT. HOSPITAL FRONT DOORS - CONTINUOUS 212
A MOB of angry people are yelling and pleading with: A LINE OF MILITARY POLICE, some with guns, some holding clubs.
HOSPITAL SOLDIER We are at capacity. Please disperse!
LYUDMILLA is JOSTLED by the crowd. Near the front, the soldiers physically PUSH people back. There's a SURGE of movement from behind her... the soldiers PUSH back... and in the chaos, she SLIPS past them... FALLS...
...then gets up and RUNS into the hospital. The soldiers can't stop her. Too busy with the rest of the crowd. The air fills with angry shouts and screams, and then:
213 INT. KREMLIN - DAY 213
Silence.
A stately corridor. Chandeliers. Floors shined to a polish. And every few feet, the Soviet flag.
VALERY LEGASOV sits on a small chair against the wall near one of the flags. Hair carefully combed. His best suit.
A door opens, and a woman, 40's, emerges. Pleasant. Courteous.
KREMLIN AIDE Professor Legasov?
LEGASOV (rises)
Yes?
KREMLIN AIDE Oh no, not yet. They're finishing up some other business. It'll be a few more minutes. Can I get you some tea?
LEGASOV No, I'm fine. Thank you.
She extends a document to him.
KREMLIN AIDE I thought you might care to read Deputy Secretary Shcherbina's report while you wait.
LEGASOV Oh. Certainly. Thank you.
He takes the typewritten report, and she exits.
Legasov sits back down. Scans the first page. Hmm.
Flip. Second page. Scanning. Mmhmm.
Flip. Third page. Scanning.
Wait.
Oh my god.
He sits there, staring agape at the page. Then looks around... is anyone else here? Has anyone else seen— ??
The aide returns. Still pleasant and calm.
KREMLIN AIDE All right, Professor. They're ready.
She sees the panic in his eyes.
KREMLIN AIDE Is something wrong?
INT. KREMLIN HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER 214
WE LEAD: Legasov, on his face, watching as he forces himself to walk... forces himself to stay calm, the report clutched in his hand, still open to the third page.
Surely they know. They have to know...
He wipes his brow. Sweat. Mouth dry.
He passes SOLDIERS who push open doors, and he enters:
INT. KREMLIN CONFERENCE ROOM - CONTINUOUS 215
The inner sanctum. The center of Soviet power. A long room lined with Soviet flags.
In the center of the room, a conference table. Men in their seats. Some in Soviet military uniforms. Others in suits.
And at the head of the table, MIKHAIL GORBACHEV.
Legasov's eyes dart nervously. Who among these men knows?
Who else is frightened? Who else feels sick to their stomach?
Not one of them appears concerned at all.
Someone clears their throat, catching his attention.
This is BORIS SHCHERBINA, 67, barrel-chested, intimidating brow. A bull of a man.
And Shcherbina nods toward a seat. As in: we are all sitting. You are not. Sit.
Legasov rushes himself into his chair. Trying to keep his hands from shaking.
Please. Let someone else say it. Not me. Anyone but me.
GORBACHEV Thank you all for your duty to this Commission. We'll begin with Deputy Chairman Shcherbina's briefing, and then we'll discuss next steps if necessary.
If necessary?
SHCHERBINA Thank you, General Secretary. I am pleased to report the situation in Chernobyl is stable.
What?
SHCHERBINA We're coordinating with local Party officials and plant management to address the incident. Military and civilian patrols have secured the region, and Colonel-General Pikalov, who commands troops specializing in chemical hazards, has been dispatched to the plant.
Legasov looks down at page three. Flips to the next page, hoping that there's something that makes page three not real. But page three is real.
SHCHERBINA In terms of radiation, Plant Director Bryukhanov reports no more than 3.6 roentgen. I'm told that's the equivalent of a chest x-ray.
(to the room) So if you're overdue for a check-up...
The men chuckle. Legasov looks up again, eyes passing over all of them, desperately searching for someone to meet eyes with him, to say, "Yes, I know, I'll say it..."