BLACK SCREEN - ROLL CRAWL: ON AUGUST 18TH, 1973, SALLY HARDESTY WAS TOURING RURAL TEXAS WHEN SHE AND A GROUP OF FRIENDS FELL AFOUL OF A BIZARRE, CANNIBALISTIC CLAN OF SERIAL PREDATORS. MS. HARDESTY WAS THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF THE NIGHT OF TERROR THAT ENSUED. SHE DIED IN A HEALTH CARE FACILITY IN 1977. A SINGLE MEMBER OF THE MURDEROUS "FAMILY" LIVED TO SEE TRIAL. THE PROSECUTION RECORDED HIS NAME AS W.E. SAWYER. HE DIED IN THE GAS CHAMBER AT HUNTSVILLE STATE PENITENTIARY IN LATE 1981. THE JURORS CONCLUDED THAT "LEATHERFACE," PRESUMED TO BE AN UNAPPREHENDED KILLED, WAS IN FACT AN ALTERNATE PERSONALITY OF SAWYER'S, ACTIVATED WHENEVER HE DONNED A CRUDE FACE MASK FASHIONED FROM THE FLESH OF HIS VICTIMS. NONE OF SALLY HARDESTY'S TESTIMONY EVER CONTRADICTED THIS CONCLUSION. IF THERE WAS NO LEATHERFACE IN REALITY, THEN SALLY HARDESTY MAY AT LAST REST IN PEACE, HER DEATH DULY AVENGED. IF THERE ACTUALLY WAS A LEATHERFACE, HE REMAINS AT LARGE, AND THE SO-CALLED "TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE" ... ... WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING. FADE IN: EXTREME CLOSE-UP - GINA Shy-looking. Strawberry blonde. Short hair. Freckles. About 17. Off her RIGHT EYE is a Cancer tattoo -- 69. ON THE FADE she looks UP INTO CAMERA, blinks once, then a SLEDGEHAMMER BASHES IN HER FOREHEAD with a moist CRUNCH as we SNAP TO BLACK on the IMPACT. CUT TO: INT. WORKSHOP - NIGHT - ANGLE ON WORKBENCH As a hunk of Gina's CARVED, CURED FACE FLOPS DOWN like a 1/4 tortilla. It's a piece WITH THE TATTOO. Bloody THICK- FINGERED HANDS -- Leatherface's -- add other pieces of other faces. Slide them around like various takes on a jigsaw puzzle as we COMMENCE TITLES OVER. This nose. Those lips. A chunk of forehead gets TRIMMED to fit with big SHEARS. Once a cumulate face is formed, the hands use a curved suturing needle to worm-stitch the facial components together. The MOON rises visibly (TIME-LAPSE) through the workshop window. TITLES CONCLUDE. The hands PAUSE to touch the TATTOO questioningly. HOLD. Then - CUT TO: EXT. WORKSHOP - NIGHT - ON SARA Outside the window, watching in horror. SARA is Gina's lover, also white, with close-cropped DYED hair. She's BLOOD- SMEARED and filthy from hiding out in the woods. ON THE CUT we see her touching her own face in the vague light from the window and REVEAL that she has a tattoo like Gina's, only hers is for Scorpio. Tears in her eyes. Abruptly the HANDS she can see through the window EMBED a huge HUNTING KNIFE in the worktable right next to the brand-new leather face mask. Sara YELPS, startled, and the HANDS PAUSE. SARA HAULS ASS AWAY AS FAST AS SHE CAN. PAN TO the workshop door. A sliding steel affair similar to or evocative of the door in 'Chainsaw 1'. It SLIDES noisily open. LIGHT floods out around the silhouette of Leatherface. Only a fast, threatening GLIMPSE of this before we SMASH CUT DIRECTLY TO: WHITEOUT SCREEN Strobing as the light source is JERKED AWAY. We hear the SOUND of a shovel spading moist dirt. Labored BREATHING, filtered. Equipment CLANKS. KIM (O.S.) Ahh, shit. We got more. Over here, Scotty. Still DARK but we can perceive vague MOTIONS. SOUND of approaching BOOTSTEPS o.s. Smoosh, smoosh. A SIGH of disgust. SCOT (O.S.) Well fuck me running. Flash it before you dig it out. KIM (O.S.) Yeah. Right. A FLASHPOP WHITES OUT FRAME again. Polaroid SX-70 WHIRR. In the residual LIGHT FADE we see EXTREME CLOSE-UP of a ROTTING SKULL FACE clotted with slime and dirt. FADE TO BLACK. CUT TO: INT. BODY PIT - NIGHT - LOW ANGLE POV As though we are seeing what the SKULL sees as a CENTIPEDE crawls over one of the EYE SOCKETS: Two MEN (Kim & Scot) in yellow plastic radiation suits. Squared helmets, visors, saltshaker muzzles. Kim holds the Polaroid. Scot holds a SHOVEL. Arc worklights ILLUMINATE them harshly from behind. Kim LEANS into FRAME, DISTORTED, to flash another shot which WHITES OUT FRAME again. From WHITEOUT: CLOSE-UP - A SKELETAL HAND Fisted around a large bone. The remains are gelid, viscuous. SCOT (V.O.) Careful of that crap. As the shot FADES TO BLACK again. ON SCOT As he DIGS IN with a trowel and LIFTS INTO FRAME his glove, clotted with thick white lard SWARMING with dozens of RED WORMS. Kim goes urrrp o.s. INCLUDE KIM. KIM Sorry. I think I gotta barf. SCOT If you have to. But don't let those new assholes see you. Go the far side of those trees. PAST SCOT - HIGHWAY B.G. As he INCLINES his head to the rear and we RACK FOCUS to reveal the ROADSIDE: More arc lamps. Parked official cars. Police lights. Minicam lights. Reporters. A coroner's VAN. TV news vehicles. Yellow cordon tape. Another car PULLS IN and parks crookedly as we CUT TO: EXT. ROADSIDE - NIGHT As highway patrol cops try to maintain order and reporters try to sneak around. Hubbub. REPORTER (BLUE) Hey, how many bodies in there? HYPO You want to stay back from that line, there. Trust me. REPORTER (BROWN) How come the spacesuits? HYPO When the brains in charge say "biohazardous," I don't ask questions. I stay on back. You should, too. REPORTER (BLUE) What -- do you mean, like, poisonous? This sets off a ROUND of SNOWING and YELLED QUESTIONS: "Is there a threat to human life?" "Is it nerve gas?" "Some kind of secret biowarfare experiment?" "Has the President said anything about this?" "The public should be warned!" etc. AD LIBS. OFF THIS: BODY PIT - RESUMING KIM & SCOT Their boots caked with mealy human decompost. Scot LIFTS a clotted SKULL and TALKS to it. SCOT Hi-ho, pardner. What kinda shit did we get ourselves into here? KIM It's just like the V.C. body pits we found up near Dong Tre. He SLIPS and has to regain footing. KIM Only ... uh, wetter. CLOSE ON THE BODY PIT Including our guys' BOOTS. We SEE the excavation in the lousy light. About two feet deep. Like an archeological dig in the shape of a house floorplan. Big. A square, wet casserole of mud and corpses, festered and toxic. SCOT (V.O.) Yeah. Just counting skulls I'd say we got thirty, forty bodies here. RESUME ROADSIDE - ON CORONER'S VAN Doors OPEN and EMPTY but for a single black body bag zipped shut. Several REPORTERS have cornered the CORONER and are shining LIGHTS on him. He holds up his hands to win a moment of order. There is a paper mask slack around his neck. General hubbub CALMS as lenses and mikes TARGET the Coroner. CORONER All right. We have unearthed the remains of several bodies buried -- REPORTER (GREEN) Sir! Were the people killed by some form of poison gas? CORONER (overrides) -- buried approximately seventy- five meters from where we are standing. REPORTER (GREEN) Who are they? CORONER They are as yet unidentified. They have been buried here for quite some time. Better than a year. Long enough for the flesh to decompose into adipocere -- which is the odor you no doubt have noticed by now. The reporters expressions indicate that they've NOTICED, all right. No one can pronounce a-DIP-o-sere. CORONER Adipocere is a by-product of putrefaction that forms only if corpses have lain under certain conditions for a specified period. The soil down there has become worm-ridden and extremely virulent. Streptococci is breeding wildly. That's why the "spacesuits," as you call them. If the workers were to breach the integrity of their skin in any way, to nick or cut themselves, they could get blood poisoning directly. They could die of gas gangrene. REPORTER (GRAY) I heard they don't even shave before they come in. CORONER That's correct. Too risky. No breach of skin tissue whatsoever. Several reporters SHROUD their mouths and roses conspicuously with handkerchiefs. More QUESTIONS as an AUTOMOBILE CRUISING SOUND comes gradually UP o.s. and we HEAR swatches of SOUND that indicate CHANNEL SCANNING on a TELEVISION SET -- sports scores with crowd noise b.g., a piece of MTV promotion, a British voice saying "The human mind has a goal, Professor --" MICHELLE (V.O.) Wait. Turn it back. What did he say that stuff was? As she SPEAKS we DISSOLVE THROUGH TO: EXT. DESERT HIGHWAY - DAY To ESTABLISH a traveling LINCOLN TOWNE CAR. New. Dealer tags. Dusty. Moving fast. Tinny TV noise CONTINUES UNDER. PUSH IN on Lincoln. TWO OCCUPANTS. CUT TO: INT. LINCOLN - DAY - TRAVELING CLOSE ON SCREEN of a tiny Watchman hand-held TV. Through STATIC in black and white we see the CORONER, holding forth. RYAN Adipocere. Based on adipose -- body fat. ANGLE ON RYAN The rider, holding the Watchman. WMA, 20, UCSB student. Glasses make him a bit scholarly. Affable. WIDEN SHOT to show Michelle, at the wheel. An ex-rich white girl, auburn- haired, 24, coltish. Shorts, sleeveless top; she's accustomed enough to desert driving to wear dense sunglasses. She's been at the wheel awhile. Keeps her eyes on the road. The two are as far apart on the front seat as it is possible to get. A hint of tension. Is Ryan putting her on? MICHELLE What, if you're buried long enough your skin turns into poison Crisco? RYAN (too serious) You think I'm kidding. MICHELLE I forgot. Captain Med School. Ryan is stung by this. Diverts his gaze to the TV. CLOSE ON WATCHMAN SCREEN As the Green Reporter gives the rundown. TINNY SOUND. STATIC. REPORTER (GREEN) To recap, a grisly mass grave has been discovered fifteen miles out of Scorpio, Texas, just off Highway 290 ... EXT. LINCOLN - DAY - TRAVELING ON MICHELLE THROUGH WINDSHIELD as SUNLIGHT glances harshly off the tinted glass.