No answer. Shcherbina turns to Pikalov. Well?
PIKALOV
Our high-range dosimeter just arrived. We could cover one of our trucks with lead shielding, mount the dosimeter on the front...
Shcherbina turns to Legasov. Satisfied? Legasov nods.
LEGASOV (to Pikalov) Have one of your men drive as close to the fire as he can, and give him every bit of protection you have. But understand-- even with the lead shielding-- it may not be enough.
Pikalov understands. And doesn't hesitate.
PIKALOV Then I'll do it myself.
230 EXT. CHERNOBYL - SOUTH OF THE POWER PLANT - NIGHT 230
Smoky haze from the fire, visible in the nearly-full moon, blankets the ground.
The air occasionally flickers with an eerie fluorescent glow. No one here. No movement, no life.
Until.
HEADLIGHTS appear - an ARMORED TRUCK approaches from the east***
INTERCUT WITH - PIKALOV, driving the truck, in full gear. Gas mask concealing his face.
ON THE FRONT OF THE TRUCK - a large DOSIMETER, blinking lights, secured to the grill with MASKING TAPE.
PIKALOV'S POV - through the windowscreen - the POWER PLANT CHAIN LINK FENCE - and beyond it, the back side of Reactor Building #4 - and the fire raging from within...
He slows as he approaches the gate. Stop. Hesitates. Then:
TURNS AROUND. Starts to drive away.
Then STOPS again.
ON PIKALOV - SHIFTING the truck into REVERSE, and: STOMPS on the ACCELERATOR, and:
THE TRUCK - gears whining as it picks up speed, heading backwards, and:
SMASHES through the GATE, sending chain link and steel poles scattering aside...
The truck stops again, then turns slowly to face its destination.
PIKALOV'S POV - through the windowscreen - as he drives SLOWLY NOW, his headlights illuminate the desolate landscape of the broken power plant.
We stay in his POV as he weaves through: chunks of burning graphite. The wreckage of pumps and machinery thrown from somewhere deep in the building...
And as he turns around to the west side of the building: ABANDONED FIRE TRUCKS... OPEN HOSES still connected to the plant hydrants, SPEWING WATER into drainage grates...
ON PIKALOV - he turns the wheel, searching for the closest spot, and as he comes around a turn, we can see his eyes widen, even through the goggles of his face mask...
Because he sees it now.
And reflected against his windshield--
—a terrible, UNNATURAL light.
231 INT. TEMP. MILITARY SHELTER - BASE CAMP - NIGHT 231
A temporary command tent. Bryukhanov and Fomin sit in silence. Across the room, Legasov sits alone.
And in the middle of the room, between them... Shcherbina. Waiting with no expression whatsoever.
No one looks at anyone. No one says a word. Then— a SOLDIER enters.
SOLDIER
He's back.
232 EXT. BASE CAMP - MOMENTS LATER 232
Shcherbina strides out, followed by Legasov, Bryukhanov and Fomin. The armored truck is 100 meters away, and men in protective gear are HOSING IT DOWN with a WHITE FOAM.
Twenty meters away, men hose down PIKALOV - still in his gear - and then help him remove his hood... gas mask... unzip the overalls... he unbuckles the boots...
Finally, Pikalov walks over to them.
PIKALOV It's not three roentgen.
They hang in anticipation. Everyone's fate in the balance.
PIKALOV It's fifteen thousand.
Legasov closes his eyes. That was the number he expected. Fomin is speechless. Bryukhanov scoffs.
BRYUKHANOV Comrade Shcherbina--
Shcherbina fixes his deadly glare on Bryukhanov, who instantly shuts up. Then Shcherbina turns to Legasov.
SHCHERBINA What does that number mean?
LEGASOV
It means the core is open and the fuel is melting down. It means the fire we're watching with our own eyes is giving off nearly twice the radiation released by the bomb in Hiroshima. And that's every single hour. Hour after hour.
(checks his watch) Twenty hours since the explosion. Forty bombs' worth by now.
(MORE)
LEGASOV (cont'd) Forty-eight more tomorrow. And it will not stop. Not in a week. Not in a month. It will burn and spread its poison until the entire continent is dead.
No one says a word. Then Shcherbina turns to a soldier.
SHCHERBINA Please escort Comrades Bryukhanov and Fomin to the local Party headquarters.
Just as Bryukhanov foresaw. They're being arrested.
SHCHERBINA Thank you for your service, gentlemen.
Bryukhanov attempts a protest, even as he knows it's pointless.
BRYUKHANOV SHCHERBINA
Comrade... You're excused.
Discussion over. Two more soldiers move in and guide Bryukhanov and Fomin away.
FOMIN
Dyatlov was in charge! It was Dyatlov!
And they're gone. Shcherbina takes a moment. Doesn't notice Legasov's disquiet about what just happened. Just:
SHCHERBINA Tell me how to put it out.
PIKALOV
We'll use helicopters. Drop water on it, like a forest fire.
LEGASOV
No— no— you don't understand. You're dealing with something that has never occurred on this planet before. This isn't a "fire". It's a fissioning reactor core burning at over 2,000 degrees. The heat will instantly vaporize the water-- or worse, ionize it, and then you're—
SHCHERBINA (no time) How do we--
LEGASOV
Sand. Sand and boron. Thousands of drops because the helicopters can't go directly over the core, so much of it is going to miss, and there are other— risks— but I don't see any other way.
SHCHERBINA How much sand and boron?
LEGASOV
Well I can't be as accurate as I'd—
SHCHERBINA For god's sake— roughly.
LEGASOV Five thousand tons?
Shcherbina and Pikalov look at each other. Five thousand tons?
LEGASOV
And obviously we need to immediately evacuate an enormous area of--
SHCHERBINA (bristles) Never mind that. Focus on the fire.
LEGASOV
I am focusing on the fire. The wind is carrying the smoke, all that radiation-- at least evacuate Pripyat! It's three kilometers away!
SHCHERBINA That's my decision to make.
LEGASOV Then make it.
SHCHERBINA I've been told not to.
LEGASOV
Is it or is it not your decision?!
SHCHERBINA I am in charge here! This will go much easier if you talk to me about things you DO understand, and do NOT talk to me about things you do NOT understand.
With that Shcherbina turns and walks off in a huff.
LEGASOV (shouts after him) Where are you going?
SHCHERBINA (shouts back) I'm GOING to get you five thousand tons of sand and boron!
And just like that, he's gone. Legasov stands there, unsure
of what to do. Or where to go.
PIKALOV There's a hotel.
Legasov looks at him. A hotel? It's all so surreal... but...
233 EXT. POLISSYA HOTEL - PRIPYAT - NIGHT 233
A six storey, white building. Typical Soviet brutalist design. Could just as easily be a prison.
Legasov is dropped off by a Red Army UAZ-469, which drives away, leaving him alone. He looks around, still in shock.
A FEW CITIZENS - take their nightly strolls. Walk their pets. No one knows. And he can't tell them.
234 INT. POLISSYA HOTEL - LOBBY - MOMENTS LATER 234
Legasov slowly walks through the lobby, like he's in a waking nightmare. The hotel is quiet, but there are the bellhops... the front desk attendants... the maids...
He turns and sees: a BAR off to the side. He crosses over to it and takes a seat. Everything feels upside-down.
Around the bend of the bar, a couple. HUSBAND and WIFE from the looks of it. 30's, probably locals. Sharing a quiet but merry conversation. Perhaps a birthday night out.
The BARTENDER, 20-ish woman, unscrews the cap on a bottle of vodka and takes a upturned glass from the bar. Legasov points to one of the glasses that are FACE DOWN on the bar.