ANOTHER SCREAM, as the medic finally pulls the GLOVE OFF of Misha, and now Vasily sees:
Misha's HAND is burnt beyond recognition. Strips of skin hanging off of it.
Pravik and the medic stare at it, stunned.
Vasily sees the BLACK RUBBLE Misha held. Just feet away from him.
He takes one step back from it.
And keeps spraying.
124 EXT. VASILY & LYUDMILLA'S APARTMENT BLDG.- SAME 124
Lyudmilla stands outside along with other people from the building, looking up at the sky, which reflects the unseen fire with an eerie glow.
No one seems nervous. No one except her.
OKSANA (O.S.)
Lyudmilla!
OKSANA, 30, walks with a CROWD of people from the building next door. Men, women, children... about fifteen of them.
Some of the women carry infants. Some, like Oksana, push BABY PRAMS.
OKSANA
You want to come with us?
LYUDMILLA
Come where?
OKSANA
We're going to the railroad bridge to get a better look. It's not like anyone can sleep with all the sirens.
LYUDMILLA I don't think you should. It could be dangerous.
Oksana's husband, MIKHAIL, scoffs.
MIKHAIL
What do you mean dangerous? It's a fire. It's over there, we're over here.
Oksana gives Mikhail an angry whack on the arm.
MIKHAIL
What?
(realizes)
Oh.
Oksana crosses to Lyudmilla. Puts a comforting hand on her.
OKSANA Is Vasily— ?
Lyudmilla nods.
OKSANA Did he say it was bad?
LYUDMILLA No. He said it was just the roof.
There. You see?
OKSANA
He's never gotten hurt before. None of the boys have. Yes? He'll be fine. Get some rest.
Oskana gives her a hug, and then rejoins the rest of the group on their way to the railroad bridge.
Small children skip along, laughing, excited to be out in the middle of the night.
Lyudmilla looks out at the distant glow.
She couldn't say why or how she knows. She just does. Something's wrong.
125 INT. CONTROL ROOM - REACTOR #4 - 1:50 AM 125
CLOSE ON: Dyatlov. Standing with his back against the wall. Palms together in front of his mouth. Tapping his fingers. Thinking. Then:
DYATLOV The tank. It's big enough.
Akimov and Toptunov turn to look at him.
DYATLOV
This kind of explosion. The control tank on 71, it's 100 cubic meters.
AKIMOV
110.
DYATLOV
(see?)
110. It could do this. Definitely.
He's nodding to himself. As if someone else is convincing him of this fact. Then:
The door OPENS. And before we can see what they see, Toptunov covers his mouth with his hand. Jesus...
It's PROSKURYAKOV. His face is now DARK BROWN. Eyes nearly swollen shut.
PROSKURYAKOV It's gone. I looked right into it. I looked into the core.
Akimov stares in shock at Dyatlov. Panic rising inside him. But Dyatlov doesn't even flinch.
DYATLOV
Did you lower the control rods or not?
Proskuryakov turns to him in confusion. Then begins RETCHING.
DYATLOV (disgusted) Take him to the infirmary.
(beat) Toptunov! Take him!
Toptunov rushes over to the trainee, and as he helps him out of the room--
TOPTUNOV Where's Kudryavtsev?
PROSKURYAKOV
He fell...
Toptunov exits with Proskuryakov, shouting:
TOPTUNOV (O.S.) I need a medic! Anyone?!
Dyatlov resumes leaning against the wall. Fingers back in front of his mouth. Then he feels Akimov's eyes on him.
DYATLOV He's delusional.
AKIMOV
His face.
DYATLOV (waves it off) Ruptured condenser lines. The feedwater is mildly contaminated. He'll be fine. I've seen worse.
Akimov looks down. That can't be true. But the alternative is unthinkable.
DYATLOV
Do we still have a phone line to the outside?
(beat) Akimov?
Akimov looks back up. Nods.
DYATLOV Call in the day shift.
Oh god.
AKIMOV
But... if—
DYATLOV
We have to keep water flowing through the core. We need electricians, mechanics-- we need bodies. How many times do I have to say it?
Akimov still hesitates.
Dyatlov deliberately walks toward Akimov. Unblinking. Cold.
DYATLOV
I'm going to the Administration Building now. To call Bryukhanov. And Fomin. They're going to want a full report. I don't know if I can make things better for you. But I can certainly make them worse.
He stops just inches from Akimov's face.
DYATLOV
Call in the day shift, Comrade Akimov.
Akimov swallows. Then:
AKIMOV Yes. Comrade Dyatlov.
Dyatlov stares into Akimov's eyes a beat too long. Then nods, satisfied... and exits.
126 EXT. PRIPYAT HOSPITAL - SAME 126
Near silence. Barely crickets. We're in front of PRIPYAT HOSPITAL - five interconnected buildings, each six storeys tall.
The buildings are oddly generic. Soviet cookie-cutters, made of concrete and institutional white tiling.
There are large letters on the roof. We'll translate.
SUBTITLE: HEALTH OF THE PEOPLE - RICHES OF THE COUNTRY
127 INT. HOSPITAL - MATERNITY LABOUR WARD - CONTINUOUS 127
Off-screen, we hear a woman is GROANING and STRAINING in pain. But we're looking at:
SVETLANA ZINCHENKO, 25, wearing a doctor's jacket. She's staring out the window at the distant fire.
OLD MAN'S VOICE (O.S.) You're doing fine. Raise her up. A little more.
Behind her: THE LABOUR WARD. A large, open space. Bare walls - white tile halfway up, sickly mint-green the rest. Electrical lines are routed up the surface of the walls.
The floor is brown tile, with drains set in every ten feet.
There are a SIX delivery gurneys... simple steel frame cots with thin mattress pads and crude gynecological stirrups.
Bright fluorescents beat down on: TWO WOMEN on the cots, each in labour. Hairnets on, hospital gown covering their tops, nude from the waist down, in stirrups.
Nurses attend to them, along with AN OLD DOCTOR, likely in his 70's.
It may be 1986, but in here, it seems more like 1886. A nurse HAND-CRANKS a cot to help raise a woman's head.
OLD DOCTOR Good. There. Okay.
He points to the patients as he instructs the nurse.
OLD DOCTOR This one, maybe an hour. The other two, not until morning.
He talks a bit too loudly. Hard of hearing.
OLD DOCTOR And how is it downstairs, Doctor Zinchenko?
ZINCHENKO
Quiet.
He removes his gloves. Throughout their conversation, one of the women in labour continues to GROAN in pain.
OLD DOCTOR Always is. Nothing at this hour but babies. You know I once went two days without sleep? Ten women went into labour at the same time-- did I ever tell you this story?
Zinchenko's still staring out the window. Distracted.
ZINCHENKO
Yes.
The old doctor is a bit hurt by that.
OLD DOCTOR Well, I won't need you in here for a while. If you want, get some rest in the break room.
He opens one of the patient's charts. Begins making handwritten notations. Zinchenko finally turns to him.
ZINCHENKO They haven't brought anyone in from the fire.
OLD DOCTOR
What fire?
ZINCHENKO The power plant.
OLD DOCTOR Oh? Then it must not be too bad.
ZINCHENKO Do we stock iodine?
He didn't hear that over the woman's groaning.
OLD DOCTOR
Hmm?
ZINCHENKO (louder) Iodine.
He looks up from his chart.
OLD DOCTOR You mean disinfectant?
ZINCHENKO No. Pills. Does the hospital stock iodine pills?
OLD DOCTOR Iodine pills...
(confused) Why would we have iodine pills?
Off her face, we hear the shrill RING of:
128 INT. VIKTOR BRYUKHANOV'S BEDROOM - 2:00 AM 128
—a bedside TELEPHONE. One ring. Two. Three. VIKTOR BRYUKHANOV— 50, wavy dark hair, pockmarked cheeks-- slowly wakes. Fumbles for the light. Answers the phone.