BRYUKHANOV
Hel —
His voice catches on a wad of phlegm that had settled in while he slept. He clears his throat.
BRYUKHANOV
Hello?
He listens for a second, then sits straight up. Behind him in bed, his wife rolls over. Now awake. A beat, then:
BRYUKHANOV Who else knows this? Have you called Fomin?
(MORE)
BRYUKHANOV (cont'd)
(beat)
Of course I want you to call him. If I'm up, he's up.
Bryukhanov slams the phone down. Gets out of bed.
BRYUKHANOV
Shit!
129 EXT. POWER PLANT - ADMINISTRATION BLDG. - 2:30 AM 129
NIKOLAI FOMIN, 50, balding, glasses, bad suit, stands waiting by the administration building. He watches as:
A boxy GAZ Volga drives right up to him. Bryukhanov emerges. Also in a suit. He looks down toward the far end of the plant, past the firetrucks and flashing lights, to see where Reactor Building 4 very much on fire.
And in an instant, Bryukhanov can envision a very likely fate for himself. An inquiry. An arrest. A trial. A bullet.
FOMIN
Whatever the cause, the important thing is neither you nor I--
Bryukhanov walks away from Fomin mid-sentence, striding toward the Administration Building.
Fomin checks to see if anyone saw that small humiliation. Then hustles to keep up.
130 INT. ADMINISTRATION BLDG. - CHECKPOINT - SECONDS LATER 130
Bryukhanov enters, striding quickly past guards. A distant alarm sound can be heard in this simple lobby area, as well as the occasional blast of firetruck sirens from outside.
He makes a sharp turn past the reception desk toward a GUARD, who is holding open a METAL DOOR.
131 INT. NARROW STAIRWELL - SECONDS LATER 131
Bryukhanov moves down the stairs with purpose. Fomin still trying to keep up.
They arrive at: a small, bare anteroom. In front of them, two large, STEEL BLAST DOORS - the kind you might see on a bank vault.
A guard cranks a metal WHEEL on the left door, then PULLS THE DOOR OPEN.
132 INT. CHERNOBYL BUNKER - SECONDS LATER 132
Bryukhanov and Fomin pass through as the blast door CLANGS behind them with a heavy thud.
We can no longer hear the alarms or sirens. No sound from the outside world in here at all.
Just the heavy CLACK of their shoes as they walk across the shiny, polished concrete floor.
The bunker contains many rooms... it could almost pass for an office center but for the too-low ceilings, exposed ductwork and repetitive, white-washed cinderblock walls.
Bryukhanov and Fomin enter:
133 INT. BUNKER COMMAND ROOM - CONTINUOUS 133
A simple room with a large oval conference table. Eighteen chairs. A few phones. On the walls, maps, schematics and emergency procedure posters.
Bryukhanov sees Dyatlov waiting for them in the room.
BRYUKHANOV (pissed off) I take it the safety test was a failure?
Bryukhanov sits at the head of the table. Fomin takes a chair next to him— his sidekick— and scowls at Dyatlov.
DYATLOV
We have the situation under control. FOMIN
Under control? It doesn't look—
BRYUKHANOV Shut up, Fomin.
(miserable) I have to tell the Central Committee about this. Do you realize that? I have to get on a phone and tell Maryin, or god forbid Frolyshev, my power plant is on fire?
DYATLOV
No one can blame you for this, Director Bryukhanov.
BRYUKHANOV Well of course no one can blame me for this. How can I be responsible? I was sleeping!
Bryukhanov pulls out a pen and notepad from his jacket pocket.
BRYUKHANOV Tell me what happened. Quickly.
DYATLOV
We ran the test exactly as Chief Engineer Fomin approved.
Fomin sees what Dyatlov just did there. Motherfucker.
DYATLOV
Unit Shift Chief Akimov and Engineer Toptunov encountered technical difficulties, leading to an accumulation of hydrogen in the control system tank. It regrettably ignited, damaging the plant and setting the roof on fire.
Bryukhanov glances at Fomin. Does that sound right?
FOMIN
The tank is quite large. It's the only logical explanation. And of course, Deputy Chief Engineer Dyatlov was directly supervising the test—
Dyatlov registers the return fire. Touche.
FOMIN
—so he would know best.
BRYUKHANOV (taking notes) --hydrogen tank, fire. And the reactor?
DYATLOV
We're taking measures to ensure a steady flow of water through the core.
BRYUKHANOV What about radiation?
Dyatlov hesitates for a brief moment. Then:
DYATLOV
Obviously down here it's nothing. But in the reactor building I'm being told 3.6 roentgen per hour.
BRYUKHANOV That's not great. But it's not horrifying.
FOMIN
Not at all. From the feedwater, I assume?
Dyatlov nods.
FOMIN
We'll have to limit shifts to six hours at a time. But otherwise—
BRYUKHANOV The dosimetrists should be checking regularly. Have them use the good meter. From the safe.
Dyatlov blinks at that. But otherwise... no reaction.
Bryukhanov pulls a phone closer to him.
BRYUKHANOV Right. I'll call Maryin.
(to Fomin) Wake up the local Executive Committee. There'll be orders coming down.
Bryukhanov takes a short breath... steels himself... then picks up the phone.
134 EXT. RAILROAD BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS 134
A simple, paved bridge passing 20 feet above the railroad lines.
The CROWD we saw before-- two dozen people-- has gathered here to watch the fire. Some share vodka. Some smoke. A few of the men have their small children up on their shoulders.
The fire occasionally shifts colors... like a rainbow. Mikhail stands with Oksana. She jiggles her pram slightly to keep her baby calm. Her four-year old son is pulling on her dress. He's tired.
FOUR-YEAR OLD
Mama--
OKSANA
Sshh. Here.
She gives the boy a cracker. Then, to her husband--
OKSANA
What do you think makes the colours?
MIKHAIL Oh, it's the fuel for sure.
OKSANA
"Oh it's the fuel for sure"? What do you know about it? You clean floors at the train station.
MIKHAIL (defensive) My friend Yuri works in the plant. He says it runs cool. No fire, no gas. Just... whatever it is.
OKSANA
They should tell us whatever it is.
Mikhail looks at her. Oh come on...
OKSANA We live near it.
MIKHAIL
It's atoms. Yuri says the only thing is— you can't walk right up to the fuel. But if you do— (vodka)
One glass per hour for four hours.
OKSANA Isn't Yuri a plumber?
MIKHAIL (yes, but) At the nuclear power plant.
His point well-made, Mikhail clinks his vodka cup to one of his mate's.
Oksana shakes her head. Boys. Then she nestles into Mikhail for warmth. They all watch the fire. Calm. Peaceful, even.
OKSANA It is beautiful...
The wind picks up, breezing through their hair. And with it, swirls of soot in the air, like tiny bits of paper.
SLOW MOTION - as the particles swirl around them. The people stand there on the bridge, just a mile from the burning power plant, laughing, drinking...
Children laugh and run in circles, trying to grab the black snowflakes of floating soot from the air.
Mikhail, watches excitedly, his baby now in his arms. The infant stares calmly at the distant light.
135 INT. REACTOR #4 BUILDING - CONTINUOUS 135