All language subtitles for Tremors a Cold Day in Hell (2018)

Whoever heard of a heatwave in the Arctic?

Welcome to the new normal.

We're standing on a gigantic ice cap,
and it's 32 Fahrenheit.

Welcome to the Arctic summer.

Fahrenheit?

Wait, did you just use that
antiquated Imperial measurement?

Yeah, I did, Sweden.

I'm from Norway, A-hole. Not Sweden!

Is there any difference?

You Americans! You're so out of
step with the rest of the world.

You're a scientist, for God's sake.

Glaciologist.

You two knob jockeys sound like a couple of Sheilas.

Let's get these core samples
and get back to the outpost.

Guys, we hit something.

This is some mean ice.

That's why they call it the Old Cold!

Yeah, well, I reckon just increase the bit speed.

Let's blast right through it.

Hey, guys?

I'm getting a seismic spike in the ice.

Yeah, well, it's probably just an isostatic rebound.

Like hell, it is.

I'm getting a big-ass magnetic anomaly on my screen.

Whatever it is, it's alive, and it's big.

There are no big life forms that live in solid ice.

Maybe the backscatter effect
brought up a rock formation.

Yeah, and maybe it's the Easter Bunny!

This is not a rock,
and it sure as shit isn't the Easter Bunny.

Dumbass!

Check it out.

Aussie!

Aussie? Aussie? Aussie, do you copy?

What the hell?

- What...
- Get it out! Get it out!

Come on, get it out.
Come on! Come on! Come on! Come on, Yank!

No! No!

Yankee!

Yank!

Yank?

No.

No!

No!

Really, Gummer? A motion detector?

Perfection.

Man alive, it's hot as balls out there!

Hands where I can see them, partner.

Oh, gee-whiz, Gummer! You know who I am!

It's me, Special Agent Dalkwed.

Do it, Agent Dickweed.

Are you threatening a federal officer?

That all depends, Taxman.

Sticks and stones. Is that a pellet gun, Gummer?

You bet your sweet ass it is!

Oh, since when do you play with toys?

Since none of your damn business. You armed?

Of course, I'm armed.

All Special Agents with the
United States Treasury are armed.

You know that.

Special Agent! You're a bean counter.

This here is private property in an open-carry state.

And you wouldn't happen to
have any financial interest

in said property, now would you?

Nope! Go slap a lien somewhere else.

Already have.

Hey.

I see you've changed teams.

Hmm?

No, just hats!

Well, it was a miracle the Cubbies won that series.

And frankly, Gummer, that's what you're gonna need,

a miracle.

'Cause right now, your ass is in my hands.

Your point, Dickweed?

Your tax position has been
deemed frivolous by the IRS

and your property has hereby been seized.

What? You can't!

I can, and I did!

The IRS owns you, Gummer,

until such time as we can arrange
for confiscation of any and all items

deemed suitable for government auction.

You parasitic son of a bitch!

Yeah, your...

Your well-endowed battery of firearms
might raise enough to make a dent

in your failure to file penalties and interest.

I detect the odorous stench of
Schadenfreude, Agent Dickweed!

I will see you in court!

In court? Oh. Oh, no!

We're way past that, Gummer.

Way past.

Out of here!

Goodbye, Gummer.

And don't let the door dislodge
that poker up your ass!

Oh, I'll be really careful.

- Another satisfied customer?
- What?

Did you miss me?

Yeah, like a boil on my ass.

I see you got the supply req.

Oh, yeah. That eighth text was a charm.

"Hey, welcome home, sonny boy!"

"Oh, good to see you." "How long's it been?"

"Four or five weeks?" "Okay.
How'd the video shoot go?"

Fascist jackals!

Ooh, Government plates. That can't be good.

Let me guess. IRS?

They've got no right to waltz in
here and seize a man's property.

Come on, Burt. You've been flipping
off the Feds longer than Wesley Snipes.

That's got to be a record.

This is the very thing that
sparked the Boston Tea Party.

No taxation without representation!

It's a good thing Jodi decided to
stay at that law firm in Reno, huh?

- Lets you squat here?
- Nobody's squatting.

I'm managing the store now.

Really? Congratulations.

And I really love what you've done with the place.

You really put the hyphen
back in anal-retentive. Jeez.

I can do without the sarcasm, son.

Oh, come on, Burt. Don't be hurt.

All right, now that I'm back,
let's hit that reset button, huh?

Put some fresh content up on YouTube,

try and resurrect that Bull's-Eye Brand.

Not doing prepper videos anymore.
My director quit on me.

No, he didn't. He's right here.

I just had a small mental health break.

What's up with that hat? Wait a minute.

You change teams?

No, just hats!

Take it easy, Burt.
Look, I know you hate taking direction,

and my style's way too improvisational for you, okay?

Lord, you're giving me a headache.

Come on, Burt, meet me in the middle.

Make sure you put $5 in that cash box.

For what?

That beer doesn't come free.

You're closing up?

Dude, it's not Miller time yet.

You can't find your beach.

Time for some shut-eye.

Since when do you "shut-eye"
in the middle of the afternoon?

Since you showed up!

You wonder why I go to strip clubs!

What the hell happened here?

Something attacked them from under the ice.

It can't be!

Chang's.

Yo, Burt! What's up?

Calisthenics. Feel free to join in.

I think I'll pass.

You wanna earn your keep, go stock some shelves.

I'd love to, but you've got a phone call.

Take a message.

I tried,

but there's a lady holding on the line,

who's got a very sexy phone voice, by the way.

She told me to tell you that they've got, uh...

I can't read my writing.

What does that word...
What does that say? That she's got, uh...

- Graboids? Where?
- Mr. Gummer?

Affirmative. Who's this?

Dr. Rita Sims. I'm calling
from Nunavut Province, Canada.

We're 67 degrees north.

- That's the Canadian Arctic.
- Yes, it is.

I'm the station leader of an
international research team.

We' re based at Bo�te Canyon.

How'd you get this number? You from the government?

Is she hot?

Well, I have an associate familiar with your work.

I think your associate must be half a bubble off plumb.

That was my first reaction,
but she's actually very bright.

She knows a lot about Graboid mythology.

Graboids are no myth,
but they're a desert phenomenon.

I think this is a colossal time suck, Miss, uh...

Dr. Sims.

Graboids do not and cannot
exist in the Arctic, Dr. Sims!

- Impossible.
- Ask her if she's hot.

Improbable but not impossible.

- Who's this?
- This is Valerie.

First, let me say that,
as a major Graboid enthusiast,

I have admired your work for years.
Here's what I know.

Graboids are subterranean worm-like predator

unlike any other life form cataloged
in Earth's genetic or fossil record.

When fully grown, a Graboid can reach up

to 10 meters in length and weigh up to 20 tons.

Their semi-rigid internal structure
is covered by a leathery carapace.

They're daytime hunters and have no eyes,

but what's most fascinating to
me about their predatory acuity

is that it's based on vibration.

Go on. I'm listening.

They have a massive black armored
beak and two hooked mandibles,

one on either side of their jaw.

The species is Precambrian and have
long and powerful snake-like tentacles,

which can reach three meters to ensnare their prey.

If you'd like, I can give you the 411

On the morphological subspecies

known as the Ass Blaster a.k.a. Mexicana Combustus.

You're a treasure-trove of Graboidology, Miss, but I...

You've hunted and killed them on
two different continents, Mr. Gummer.

That's why I insisted that we call.

But why are you so sure this is a Graboid attack?

The kill site has all the telltale signs.

Except for location.

I don't know. Call it a gut feeling, intuition.

We need your help, Mr. Gummer, and we need it ASAP!

Think of the adventure, Graboids in the Arctic.

This could be a whole new ballgame.

Batter up!

Yes.

You never asked if she was hot!

- Where are you going?
- Round two! I'm coming with.

Request denied.

What? Come on, here, stop being Burt for a minute,

and logic this thing out with me.

This is our chance to revive
Burt Gummer's Bull's-Eye Brand,

get you free of the taxman, dude!

Let's be honest.
You've got a lot of red in your ledger.

My financial status is none of your damn beeswax.

And you'll just be in the way.

Oh, like I was in South Africa? Huh?

That was a one-off! Nothing more.

You're looking at this through the
wrong end of the telescope here, friend.

What about your legacy, huh?

What about it?

Do you know of any other Graboid hunters out there?

Uh, I don't.

I know, you know, Bigfoot hunters... No!

You're Burt Gummer. You're a one-off!

Come on, man, teach me! Pay it forward.

Oh, I'm not dead yet.

I know, and I'm not interested in
talking about your mortality, either,

but think about it. Who's gonna fill your shoes

when you can no longer outrun
or outgun these beasts, huh?

I've got to tell you something.

Burt Gummer's got some big-ass shoes to fill.

Size 12s.

I've seen you in the locker room.

And you're my heir apparent. Is that it?

You already led me through one Graboid gauntlet.

- There's a lot you still don't know.
- Exactly my point.

Learning can be fun! Rosetta Stone me, dawg.

It was a decent enough combat primer.

Hell, yeah, it was! I was your wingman.

Wingman? More like wingnut!

Come on, that's...

That's a little harsh, I think.

Damn it!

Are you willing to follow orders?

I mean, sometimes, I don't...

Look, the most important six inches on the battlefield

are between your ears. You got that?

I'd like to think I have more. I think I'm 6.5.

Don't crack wise with me.

Sir, yes, sir!

And have you filled out

the requisite non-resident
special exemption RCMP-5590 form?

Sir...

- What?
- The RCMP-5590 form!

For that firearm you're
planning on bringing into Canada.

No.

Well, then you better download
one and fill it out pronto.

Grab your arctic gear.

Man!

Welcome to the Great White North, eh!

Otherwise known as Nowheresville.

You're about 1,000 miles north of there.

You're somewhere between, uh,

Ain't-Never-Been and Don't-Wanna-Go.

Where are all the glaciers?

Melting. Sled dog unemployment's at an all-time high.

How much longer till we're there?

Not far. Just around the bend.

Where's your GPS?

You're in the Arctic Circle.

Satellites up here are more miss than hit.

But don't worry. It's all up here.

That's reassuring.

How is it back there, Mr. Gummer?

My seismic vibration monitor is completely useless.

Yeah, well, you can log in to the
inter-Web when we get you on station.

- Peachy.
- Hey, I'm a big fan of your series.

I loved that episode on dried
meats and insects as proteins.

I see you're smuggling home-brew
grain alcohol into dry territory.

Well, the local tribal authority are a bit blue-nosed,

so I'm forced to bring it in under the radar.

Don't ask, don't tell, right?

Yeah.

Travis!

I see it.

- It can't be.
- It is.

- It is what?
- We got a hostile aerial incursion.

What's your altitude?

1,400 feet.

I suggest you take evasive action
and put this plane on the ground.

Ass Blasters in the Arctic?

They're keying in on your engine!

- Yeah, they're heat seekers.
- Who's they?

Ass Blasters!

- Bird strike.
- We've lost the engine.

No shit, Sherlock!

Get this down! Now!

Stand by for some chop!

Does that mean crash?

Gravity never loses!

The best we can hope for is a draw!

- Brace for impact!
- Impact? What impact?

And we're here!

Whoa. We're so out of here!

Oh, no.

Here they come, the men in black.

Well, well, well! What do we have here?

Tom and Jerry?

Frick and Frank?

No, more like Butch and Sundance.

Starsky and Hutch.

Do I smell alcohol?

My bird runs on bio-fuel.

And you're bootlegging moonshine
into a First Nations territory?

That is a big time no-no!

You don't mind if we help ourselves now, do you?

Well, there's a matter of payment, eh?

Put it on my tab.

And who might you be?

I'm your next-door neighbor

while you're up here on your little worm hunt.

But there's no welcome mat on
my doorstep, so tread lightly.

A piece of advice, Mr. Gummer.

You stay out of my way and pay your taxes.

Consider yourself properly warned.

Do I know you?

I don't know. Do you?

Since we're neighbors,
here's some neighborly advice.

Beat a retreat until I get this area cleared out.

Retreat? Hell, no.
We're just getting started up here.

Then find a safe place to hunker down.

Consider yourself properly warned.

You know that skid mark?

What can you tell me about him?

Well, rumor has it he's up here working

on some Area 51 stuff.

Some joint US-Canadian turd factory

being developed by Harpo... Darpo...

You mean DARPA?

That's the one! Know them?

Yeah, they're the acronym for evil.

You must be Valerie?

At your service. And thanks for answering our SOS.

Yeah, my call sign, these days.

This is Aklark. He's our resident local boy.

Hey, Mac. I saw you came in a bit hectic there, huh?

Yeah, just a little bit.

Did you guys just come from Burning Man, or...

How's it, Mr. Burt?

Wow! They even know you in Canada!

You failed to tell me about the AB infestation.

- We have Ass Blasters?
- Yeah.

It ain't a polar bear, girl.

Mom and Dad aren't gonna believe it.

"Mom and Dad"?

Here's a blast from the past, Mr. Gummer.

I'm Val and Rhonda's daughter.

No! Val and Rhonda from the OG Graboid apocalypse?

Crazy, huh? You must be Travis.

I am.

Uh... I kind of lost track
of your parents over the years.

It's okay. They're easy to
lose track of, especially Val.

Let's get you back to the station.
Everybody's waiting.

He's not the keeping-in-touch type.

Come on.

Ah, bam!

Dang!

Aw, man!

I see you've come up north loaded for bear, Mr. Burt.

Yeah, BSA .303. Nice.

It'll kill most varmints.

Yeah, well, for the varmints we're hunting,

that's like shooting a slingshot at a Sherman tank.

I thought it'd be colder than
a reindeer's ball bag up here.

We're in the middle of an Arctic heat wave,

which has greatly accelerated the snow melt.

Hell, I'm hotter than a 50 cal on full auto!

Mr. Gummer, glad you could make it.

Welcome to the Bo�te Canyon Arctic Research Station

or, like we used to call it,
science at the edge of the world.

You must be, uh, Dr. Rita Sims?

- Good to meet you.
- Yeah.

This is Dr. Ferezze.

- Charles Ferezze.
- Doc.

How was your flight in?

Well, let's just say, uh, we hit some chop.

We blew the engine.

Actually, we came under Ass Blaster attack,

and during the ensuing aerial dogfight,
the engine was blown.

- An Ass Blaster?
- Yeah.

Blew the engine?

But you have to fly me back
to Montreal so I can report

to the powers that be about the recent turn of events.

Well, they'll just have to wait
till I get this puppy airborne again.

I can't stay here one more minute!

Excuse me. I've got an engine to fix.

Excuse me.

Dr. Ferezze, he startles at the drop of a feather.

I'm sorry. We haven't met yet.

Oh, Travis Welker, my, uh...

My wing, uh... Wingman.

Thank you for coming.

I've got to go inside, get the lay of the land.

Sunset at 3:48 a.m.

Well, it's the Land of the Midnight Sun, Mr. Welker.

Are you saying that the sun
is never going down on me?

Well, it's never gonna go below the horizon,

if that's what you're asking.

We sent a three-man
drill team to the glacial field

about a half a day up mountain from here.

You have three KIA?

Killed in action.

Whoa, that's a big 10-4, good buddy.

- Name's Swackhamer.
- Swackhamer.

I hammered-and-nailed this place together.

You need to know anything, I'm your guy.

There's two that we can verify dead,
one assumed dead.

Verified? How?

Well, from the kill site.

Rita and her crew managed to recover a severed head,

a partially eaten pelvis,
and a half-eaten testicle.

How do you recover a half-eaten testicle?

Now, where's all the snow, Dr. Sims?

This year in particular has been
one of the warmest on record up here.

Meet Hart Hansen, Mr. Gummer.

He's a PhD in Geomorphology
from the University of Cambridge.

Ah, yeah, airplane boy.

It's an RC. Kind of a hobby.

It's actually a habit, um...

Okay, it's an addiction. Anyway,

it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gummer.

I'm sure you'll find that Bo�te Canyon

is a very unique geological phenomenon.

This perennially frozen tundra is interrupted

for approximately 10 square kilometers by thawed soil.

Thawed? It's bone dry out there.

The Meltwater Hot Springs are a pleasant symptom

of geothermal heat, which warms
the Earth from deep beneath the land

that we're standing on.

That explains the ABs.

Ass Blasters!

- Ass Blasters...
- You think this is funny?

These creatures are no joke.
They are all-go, no-quit killing machines.

Now, I'm sorry for the loss of your friends,

but if you don't do exactly as I say,

they won't be the last to die around here.

Not funny, Mr. Gummer. We get it.

The permafrost at a higher elevation is melting,

so the tundra is more easily breached. Ergo, Graboids.

You're telling me melting ice
caps and warmer temperatures

are causing this, uh, Graboid Arctic stampede?

Kind of, but there's more.

Enlighten me. Why here?

Evolution, Mr. Gummer.

There's one thing Nature has taught us,

and that's life can expand into new territories.

Maybe these are the first Graboids.

- Yeah, like pre-Precambrian.
- Exactly.

And maybe they migrated south millions,
maybe even billions of years ago

and evolved into a desert creature.

And now, after countless
giga-annum lying dormant in ice...

They've awakened.

Come on, this sounds like a bunch of sassafras!

It does sound sassafrassy!

Dr. Sims, a word?

How much longer?

I've got to cold-stitch the
intake manifold, rebuild the carb.

Look, if you don't get this
clunker in the air soon, I'll...

You'll what, Mr. Freeze?

Ferezze. Dr. Charles Ferezze.

What is it?

DARPA.

What are they doing here?

- Oh, them?
- Shh!

Yes, them.

What's your association with them?

They're our research neighbors.

Why are we whispering? They can't hear us.

When did they arrive?

They arrived a couple of months ago.

They're working on some US-Canadian project.

It's very hush-hush.

Why? What?

Bio-weapons is what.

I'll bet you a dollar to a
donut hole we've zeroed in

on DARPA's testing ground.

You think that our research neighbors

are breeding these creatures as bio-weapons?

Bingo! This is the killing ground,

and you're the guinea pigs.

I think you're reaching.

It's a verifiable fact that
DARPA started training dolphins

as bomb-carriers during Vietnam.

More lately, they've been outed
for weaponizing cyborg insects.

No, ma'am, I wouldn't put anything
past these black-hat Mengeles.

We got Ass Blasters on campus!

Dr. Ferezze is out there with that thing.

Oh, Lord. That guy's turned into a real ass-ache.

What's the 20 on that AB?

That flaming sphincter is on the roof!

Eyes! We need eyes on that roof!

I'm bringing up the roof cam!

All right, listen up!

If there are Ass Blasters on station,
Graboids aren't far behind.

They respond to seismic vibrations,
so everyone stay still.

Dr. Ferezze. Just the man I wanted to see.

The bodies, or what's left of them,
are ready for transport.

When you have a minute,
we need to go through the details again.

We've been through it.
It was an apparent Graboid attack.

Graboid?

Locked and loaded.

That thing just took down our comms tower.

We've got no talk.

Our data-link and NetCam are down, too.

How'd that ass-wipe get out there?

Now I've got to save his sorry butt!
I'm going outside.

You ever seen an Ass Blaster before?

- Nope.
- Yeah.

This is a first.

They're pretty cool, actually,
but they're mean, and they stink.

I had a boyfriend like that once.

You single?

Are you trying to get sweet with me?

- Definitely.
- It's not gonna work.

Doc! Doc!

Doc! Grow a spine, huh?

Look at me.

I have balls of steel. Say it!

I have balls of steel.

My balls are stainless steel!

My balls are stainless steel!

My balls are in the Guinness Book of Balls!

My balls are in the Guinness Book of Balls!

Right! You put this on.

- Yes.
- It'll hide your heat signature, huh?

Now, look. You stick with me
like a shadow. You hear that?

Yes.

Now, put that dick back in your pants

- and do what I do, right?
- Yes, sir.

- Roger?
- Roger.

- Roger that. Let's go.
- Okay.

Come on, soldier. Hoods up!

What the hell?

Suck on this, bird brain!

Go away, sucker!

How are you feeling, Mr. Gummer?

What's going on?

- You just had surgery.
- What?

Arthroscopic surgery. To remove a mondo tapeworm

that was causing a cluster-fete in your intestines.

I know. Gross, huh?

Oregon State. Corvallis, right?

Yup. Go Beavers!

You know, my dad's been telling me stories about you

since I could bounce on his knee and...

I still can't believe Val McKee's your father!

He's more of a dad, really.

Crazy uncle, actually.

Wild, huh?

Your father was the most
brilliant underachiever lever met.

Yeah. That's what Mom always says.

He always told me what a hard-ass you were.

I mean, are.

Oh, no way. No way! Are those...

Graboid skin? Yeah. Dad made them for Mom.

She handed them down to me. Pretty indestructible.

What are you doing up here?

Internship. I'm doing my
Masters in Mathematical Geosciences.

How are you feeling, Burt?

Speaking of underachievers.

I am as strong as a fifth of whiskey, Wingman.

Really? 'Cause you looked slower
than the Mississippi out there.

Where's my munitions,
my combat vest, my clothes, huh?

To your left.

Well, feel better, Mr. Gummer.

All right. Thank you, Miss McKee.

You can call me Val.

What's going on with you, Burt?

It's not like you to take a knee on the field.

We need to talk.

Where'd you get that HK91?

Mr. Gummer?

There's something that you need to see.

The water levels dropped 15
centimeters since our last measurement.

The samples have detected a new
chemical element in the soil gas.

Can you determine what it is?

Uh... The computer's reading it as HCO2H.

Formic acid?

Yeah.

Yeah, and it's a highly concentrated dose.

The acidity in the pH is off the charts.

What the hell was that?

You hear that?

Get out! Get out now!

What the hell?

What is it?

You've been infected, Mr. Gummer,

by what appears to be a parasitic organism that is

quite hostile and has an extremely slow gestation.

What's the bad news?

Well, unfortunately, it secretes
a neurotoxin at a certain maturation,

killing the host.

Killing the host? You mean, Burt being the host?

We've identified the toxin
as originating from a Graboid.

A Graboid?

- What...
- Just indulge me.

Blood behind the eye caused by cerebral inflammation.

Advanced stage. It's not good.

You're gonna need antibodies.

Well, how do we get them?

From a Graboid.

Maybe we can get one to stop by the blood bank.

How the hell did you
get infected by a Graboid?

I was in the belly of the beast.

Okay, so we kill a Graboid. We get it done.

I got this, Burt.

The antibodies need to be extracted
from a live Graboid to be viable.

A live Graboid?

Mission: Impossible.

You plan on throwing a lasso over its neck?

If you'll excuse me, I need to do a perimeter sweep.

I don't think you understand
the urgency of your condition.

Don't let the urgent get in the way of the important.

Your body is failing, Mr. Gummer.

Bullshit! I want a second opinion.

Yeah, I know that's all macho and everything, Burt,

but I happen to care about your health!

Go care someplace else.

That's a dick thing to say.

No bad seed shall go unpunished!

Get it off of me!

Hang on.

Please don't let go!

- Hold on!
- Don't let go!

- My God!
- Please, don't let go!

- Please, don't let go.
- I got you.

- Hold me! Hold me!
- Shit! I got you.

No!

All right! Block that window!

Okay, everyone, buckle your chinstraps

and pack a meat sandwich! We are under attack.

Secure all doors and windows!

Well, this is just great.

We're under attack by a hostile underground life form.

We're all going to die!

Listen to me, Doc.

Take a couple of tablespoons of cement

and harden the hell up, huh?

Okay, look, anybody with a weapon, load it up.

We have the sharp end of the stick.
Whatever you got, use it!

Easy, there, cowgirl!

I can't get this seismic vibration monitor working.

Our data-link and NetCam are down, Mr. Gummer.

Yeah, the Ass Blaster tore
our comms tower apart last night.

Can you fix it?

Swackhamer's been working on it all morning, but...

The HF antenna's totally destroyed.
Coax has been severed.

The grid pack dish is totally shot.

All right, how long will it take to fix?

- A day, at least.
- All right.

Iridium satellite phone?

- Who took the sat phone?
- I saw Dr. Ferezze with it earlier.

Oh, Ferezze flew the coop.

All right, find him and get
that sat phone to me ASAP!

It's our lifeline out of here.
We've got to call in Evac

and get these kids someplace safe!

I can drop an elk at 800 yards

and field dress it in less than 30 minutes.

Maybe that'll pull you out of your worry well.

We're up for this, Mr. Gummer.

Copy that, Miss McKee.

We are flying blind. Advantage, Graboid.

I was never properly briefed
on the lay of the land, Dr. Sims.

We are here.

There are mountains to our east,
west, north, and south.

It's a true box canyon.

Total geographic isolation. D�j�-freaking-vu!

This is the bunkhouses. That's DARPA encampment.

The hangar's about 120 meters to our direct front.

Aflac's down there.

It's Aklark!

Make yourself useful, Wingman.
Give the hangar a holler.

With what, a cup and a string?

Use the walkie-talkie.

Yo, North Star One,
this is North Star Base. You copy?

You got Mac, North Star One.
Send your traffic. Over.

Look, shut it down now, all right?

Stop all work and stay inside.

- What's this?
- A road.

You mean washboard. The road's out.

Landslide last winter. It's totally impassable.

This whole base is like open range for a Graboid.

Wait a second. You're telling me

we're smack dab in the middle
of a kill zone and no way out?

Everybody freeze!

Valerie.

I think it's leaving.

No.

It's caught wind of another vibration.

Something's moving.

Or someone.

I can't find Dr. Ferezze in the bunkhouse.

That cheese-dick gone AWOL again?

Oh!

Jeez.

Dr. Ferezze!

Hart, no!

Back here! Don't follow stupid with stupid.

Dr. Ferezze!

Come back, Dr. Ferezze!

Dr. Ferezze, where are you going?

Anywhere but here!

Just calm down and think, Dr. Ferezze.

There's nowhere for you to go!

I'll take my chances.

- Hart!
- Here it comes!

Dr. Ferezze! Please, don't do this!

Don't start the car!

- Please!
- Adi�s, amigo.

Dr. Ferezze!

Shit!

Damn, I don't have a shot!

Dr. Ferezze!

Inside! Everyone, now!
Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

This shit just got real!

I can't believe what that thing did to Dr. Ferezze.

They just came out of hibernation and,
based on their body mass index,

those creatures need to eat a lot.

- How many are there?
- It's impossible to tell...

without my seismic vibration monitor.

Well, we can't stay here.

Copy that. We've got weapons,
but not enough for these bad boys.

The bigger the problem, the bigger the hammer.

Yeah? What've you got in mind?

There's a couple of cases of dynamite in the hangar.

Petrol, tools, bear bangers, odds and ends.

There's enough stuff to MacGyver a
bomb we can stuff down their throats!

Sounds like that's our FOB.

One problem.

The hangar's got a compacted chip-stone floor.

Oh, come on, man. They're gonna be like

sand sharks bobbing for apples.

Yeah, and we'll be the Granny Smiths.

This floor is 1.2 meters above the ground,

supported by a steel substructure.

Those things won't be able to knock this place down.

Yeah, but it's only a matter of time

before they come blasting
through the floor and eat our lunch.

I've got an idea.
The generator's in the hangar, right?

Yeah. Triple-phase power, 63-amp cables.

According to these blueprints,

this hangar's got a deep-pile foundation.

Yeah, steel caissons going directly into the bedrock.

Drilled it myself.

You think you can re-route the
power so it goes to the steel caissons?

Are you saying what I'm thinking?

What are you thinking I'm saying?

I'm thinking that you're saying
that we shoot a dose of milliamps

straight into the groundwater
and create some kind of...

- Underground electrical fence.
- Exactly.

That's exactly what I'm saying
you're thinking. Can you do it?

I've done more with less.

Yeah, but if it doesn't work, we die.

So what the hell, Burt?
Have you ever nailed Jell-O to a wall?

I'm not sure how that's relevant.

It's relevant because I did it.

And guess what? It stuck.

You know why? Because everyone said I couldn't.

All right, I got it. I got it!

And we've got a plan. We're off to the hangar.

Teams of two. Travis, you, and Dr. Sims.

Swackhamer, you're with me.

Wingman, we're gonna need a diversion!

I'm on it.

I'm gonna pretend I didn't
just hear you leave me out

because I'm coming on this worm hunt.

Elk hunter, huh?
Think you can bang on this short arm?

Piece of cake. You zero that
scope for distance or dangerous game?

- What do you think?
- Stupid question.

Mind if I tweak it for my preferred point of impact?

Dad and I always zeroed our scopes
at 2.5 inches high at 100 yards.

Well, whatever floats your boat.

You're on overwatch. Take Vargas and go on the roof.

Roger that.

And hold on tight, huh? She'll kick some!

Got you.

The gun or Vargas?

You feel up for this, old man?

I'm fine.

You make ready.

Okay, you ready, Dr. Sims?

Oh, shit. Look what the cat dragged in.

- Oh, good. You're here.
- Mr. Cutts.

I just lost my top scientist
at the Meltwater Hot Springs.

You just got in over your head and had to punt, huh?

Your experiment's run amok.

My experiment?

What, you think I'm actually controlling these...

Yeah, but of course you would.
Your psych eval suggested as much.

You had me profiled?

I'm sorry to disappoint you,
but this is not the Island of Dr. Moreau.

I'm not some kind of walking ethical dumpster fire.

My mission here is more elevated than that.

Oh, yes. No DARPA skunk works in the hopper, huh?

No bio-engineering perhaps?
A little Graboid gene-splicing?

You know, that's a good idea,
but bio-weapons are not my thing.

I'm here with an engineering team

to assess the purity of the groundwater

and to design an aquifer to move it
out of the Arctic and into civilization.

This is about water?

Water is the new oil, and, as you may have noticed,

the Arctic has it in abundance now.

It took just one of those creatures

less than a minute to kill my best scientist.

Nobody move! Nobody move.

It's under the floor.

Don't move.

Shh!

Let me unload.

All right.

Fire at will!

Yes!

Help! Help me!

Here!

Help me! Help me!

All right. Let's scoot and shoot!

What about us?

Find high ground, solid ground,

and whatever you do, don't move!

North Star One to North Star Hangar.

We are coming your way. Over.

Roger that, Mr. Gummer.

Sounds like you stepped in it up there.

Affirmative. Time to dig in, work together. Over.

Is it a hunting party?

Sure as hell ain't no pony show!

All right, look, I'm gonna lead it away from here.

When I do, run!

Yeah!

Like a dog to a bone!

Bio-mechanics are so sexy!

To the hangar!

Come on!

Incoming! Three o'clock!

Oh, shit! Not another one!

The truck!

- Swackhamer, get up!
- Yeah.

Come on! In the truck!

Come on!

That thing's got me by the pants!

So take off your pants!

100% no!

- Take off your pants, Rita!
- No!

- Take them off now, goddammit!
- No!

- Why?
- I'm not wearing any underwear!

You're going commando in the Arctic?

I don't wear underwear.

It's too restricting.

- I think I love!
- Yeah?

- Hey, Hart?
- Yeah?

How many of those energy drinks did you have today?

Six, maybe seven.

I mean, could be eight.

Get ready to run, Wingman.

We're executing Diversion Tactic Two.

Okay, Hart. Time to take one for the team.

Free Willy and let the big dog eat.

Seriously? You want me to drop trou?

Don't question my orders!

Now, you take out that disco stick, and let it dance!

Okay. Don't anybody look.

Dude! We have bigger worms to worry about!

Get ready to redeploy!

That boy's got game!

Fire at will!

- Preferably today!
- I'm trying!

Oh, come on! If you're gonna
piss like a puppy, stay on the porch.

I'm no puppy, Mr. Gummer. I'll tell you that.

Gonna build me an ark!

We're clear to the hangar. Go! Go! Go!

Here, here! Take this!

Bad news, Val. Eleven o'clock!

That makes the Graboid count two.

Yeah, two alive. One dead.

Burt, you copy? Over?

You there? Copy?

Burt?

Copy, Wingman.

You doing okay?

Why the hell wouldn't I be?

We're fighting a Graboid apocalypse

with a bunch of noncoms!

Don't worry about me!

Just stick to the mission objective.

We've got to get one of those worms pronto!

Watch out! It's headed your way!

Incoming. From the drill tower.

Say a prayer, I'm gonna flip the
switch on this ittle cucarcha.

One! Two!

Three!

Shit!

Watch out!

It's working. It's actually working!

It can't get through.

I told you I've done more with less!

Come on! Whoo! Yeah!

How're you doing out there, Burt?

Talk to me.

Burt, you're alive?

You've never given up on
anything in your life, old man.

Don't start now!

You father is very sick, Travis.

He can't die. Not now. Not on my watch.

This is his second neuro-muscular collapse.

Come on, Travis.

Man up.

Okay, look, we capture one of these things, right?

How do we get what we need?

There should be a glandular
sac somewhere in the throat.

Looks like Sally's testing our
underground electrical fence.

Who's Sally?

You named it?

After an ex.

Sally Soulsmasher.

She was a dirty, man-eating bitch

who used to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

Everything okay out there?

Copy that, sir. Just locking the gate. All clear.

Stop moving, you idiot.

It's coming through the floor!

Wingman?

Wingman, you there?

Burt. How are you feeling?

Fit as a butcher's dog.

I'm coming your way, Wingman!

Let's go, guys. Let's go. Let's get to work.

Swackhamer, start making those bombs.

- Look, Burt, we...
- Got to destroy these devils!

- No, we have to catch one of these!
- We don't catch. We kill!

- Even if it kills you?
- This is not about me.

- Yes, it is!
- Not if we still got Graboids out there.

Come on, Burt. I'm just getting to know you.

I don't wanna see your sorry ass die.

I'll be dead when I say I'm dead!

That's not how this works!

Last I checked, you don't give the orders around here.

Oh, I do now.

You never answered my question.

Where'd you get that HK91?

Heather.

My wife.

Ex-wife, Burt.

Who gave you the right to meddle in my affairs?

Hey! I'm the result of one of your affairs, remember?

Bullshit! Bullshit!

You're not hooking and reeling
me into this conversation!

I guess I touched his thermostat.

You wanna die? Huh? Do you?

Stop being so stubborn.

Damn!

Did you...

Did you say hooking and reeling?

Jesus, Burt, you are a genius.

Hey, Mac, how are we doing on that plane?

Well, I've got to put a wrench to a few more screws.

Everybody, listen up.

I think I've got a way we
can catch one of these things!

What the hell is that?

The seismic alarm.

We set the core sample drilling
on auto for today, remember?

That damn drilling tower is like Graboid catnip.

That puss has already taken the bait.

We've got to shut it down
before Hart becomes a Happy Meal!

The timer panel's attached to the drill tower.

Okay, if we can't turn it off,
we've got to lead that Graboid away from Hart.

I've got to shut off the drill rig.

You can't go down there, Val.

Battle stations! Let's make some noise!

Double the voltage this time. I want him dead!

Hold on, Hart. I'm coming!

Hurry up, Val.
Number two's coming right at you.

Go! Go! Go! Raise Cain!

Come to papa!

Swackhamer!

Yeah!

That'll close the carpool lane!

Give me some! Whoo!

Give me some, Burt!

Whoo!

Broke into the wrong goddamn hangar,
didn't you, you bastard?

Val, it's in front of you!

Let's go, Hart. It's retreating!

Jump!

Come on!

All right, let's not celebrate in a huddle, folks.

We've still got at least one Graboid out there.

Uh, guys,

I hate to drop a turd in the punch bowl,
but the genny's blown!

What the hell does that mean?

No underground electrical fence.

We've got to get him to medical.

Okay. Get that airplane ready to fly,
and wait for my call.

All right, everybody, I'm on the point.

Single file. Okay.

Any movement?

Nothing. Zip.

- Zilch.
- Nada mucho.

- I say we run, get there fast.
- Yeah.

If that thing attacks,
I'll just honey badger the shit out of it.

Uh, help? Over here!

Oh, shit, he lived? I've got
to do the right thing, don't I?

It's a good habit to start.

Okay, Rita, you take Aklark and Burt to the medical.

I don't care what you have to do to keep him alive!

Swackhamer, you're with me.

On three, we break. One, two, three, break!

Man, am I glad to see you guys now!
Get me down from here.

Jump, you chicken-shit!

No,no,no. Don't jump, okay?

But I'll tell you what you can do.

Remove all the tax liens on
Mr. Gummer for the last 27 years

and give him back his house,

and I'll make sure that you
stay on this side of the tundra.

Yeah, whatever. Done.

Uh, no, we're not done.

We also don't wanna pay taxes
for the rest of our life.

Federal or state, yeah.
Nevada doesn't have state taxes.

Yeah, no federal taxes!

Well, that's gonna be a hard one to swing.

Uh, have a nice life! Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine.

- I'll do it.
- You didn't see the ladder, asshole?

Dude! Baby bag.

Hey, candy-ass! If you have a set of balls,

now would be the time to use them.

Yeah.

There she blows. Time for some psy ops.

I'm gonna distract Sally
Soulsmasher with some shock and awe!

Good luck with that.

Suck on this, worm!

Come on!

Whoo!

Yeah!

Yeah!

Ride them, cowboy!

Giddyup! Oh, yeah!

How do you like me now?

Oh, good. Get me out of here.

- Take it easy, Burt.
- Don't tell me to take it easy.

It's time for a sit rep.

Yeah, I think you better sit this rep out.

- Who put you in charge?
- You did.

- I did?
- Yeah, once you got hurt, Burt.

That puts me in charge whether you like it or not.

I feel fine.

Tell everybody to gear up and get ready.

Get ready for what?

Ready to save your ass, that's what!

Capturing a Graboid! Right?

You might as well try taking the black off a crow.

Hell, while you're at it,
why don't you tell the rain not to dry?

I'm your only shot.

- You?
- Yeah, me, Burt! Me!

Your job is to preserve my legacy!

My job is to make a last stand
against these Arctic Graboids.

You can't stand, Colonel Custer!

- Back off!
- It doesn't belong to you!

Cold, dead hands, is that it, Burt?

What is wrong with you?

I'm trying to save your bacon here,
you stubborn old coot.

You've crossed the line!

This fight is done with you.

Yeah, well, I'm not done with it!

Yeah, you are.

Don't leave me unarmed.

There.

You got your true love back.

I guess blood ain't thicker than ammo, is it, Burt?

Yeah.

If you've got Ass Blasters, you have Graboids.

That's right, soldier.

This is FOB. DOA.

TMZ.

My balls are in the Guinness Book of Balls!

That went well!

Yeah, it sounded like it.

You ready?

It's a good look for you.

I guess the big boy's still
out there sleeping somewhere.

I hope he's the only one.

When you get pushed in, you've got to swim, right?

Hey, Swackhamer, sit rep?

Seconds away!

Travis, this plan, it's

fricking crazy, huh?

Just like nailing Jell-O to a wall.

Yeah, bro.

This is Mac. I'm wheels up in five!

Takes me back to my banner-tow days.

Hope the old girl can handle the load.

Don't worry. Come on.
It's just a pure catch-and-release mission!

When the fish is on, you want me

to pull up hard and do a wingover, eh?

Affirmative. We're gonna use
the bitch's momentum to land her.

Okay, Aklark, she's all yours.

Just keep it steady.
We don't wanna wake the beast up.

Dude!

Shh!

Let's go fishing.

All right, Valerie, you ready
to take down one of these bad boys?

I'm so ready.

All right!

When I get in position, rock the cradle.

I'm baiting the hook.

Okay, Val, get ready. It's awake.

Three hundred meters and closing!

- One hundred meters and closing.
- Okay, let's go.

All right, Mac, bring her in. Bring her in.

Oh, shit.

Hooked!

Oh, shit!

Release! Release!

What now?

Halle-freaking-lujah!

All right, listen, listen. Absolutely no guns, okay?

We don't wanna kill it. We want it alive.

We're going old-school on this thing.

Shirts versus skins, all right?

- A three iron?
- It was the best I could do.

All right.

Let's go Alpha on this worm!

Okay.

All right.

Whoa, whoa.

Come on.

Get him! Come on, kid! Get him!

Oh, man!

Guys, good effort.

Uh, Swackhamer, you got this.

- Come on, Swackhamer.
- Whoo! Okay.

- You got it, man.
- You got it!

Back off! Throw it!

Tap in. Tap in, big man.

Go get it, Aklark! It's all yours!

Don't be afraid.

It can smell your fear!

- Make him sushi!
- Come on!

Yeah!

Amateurs!

Wow! I did not need to see that!

What's good for the Graboid is good for the Gummer.

All right.

Ugh!

That can't be comfortable.

You went poking around in my
throat with a big-ass needle,

I'd be pissed!

Dude, you need a Tic Tac.

That is so awkward.

Oh, it smells so bad.

They should call him Deep Throat.

That is all kinds of nasty.

At least the gland wasn't in the prostate!

Yeah.

I'm sorry, Travis.

That's it?

There has to be something more you can do.

That is no way to treat an HK91!

Sorry, Burt.

It won't happen again.

Oh.

With all due respect, soldier, you need a shower.

What's the damn fuss?

How do you not die? You never die.

- Mr. Gummer.
- Sir.

Glad to see you up and at them.

Now, it gives me great pleasure to present you

with your permanent federal
tax lien release, in perpetuity,

as well as the title deeds to your property.

Signed, sealed...

And delivered.

- You're too kind.
- You're right.

This species will make an exceptional bio-weapon.

When it comes to Graboids,
I'm rarely wrong, Mr. Cutts.

Mmm-hmm. With the right neuro-implant,

it could be a bunker-buster for God and country.

What do you think?

I was right about you all along.

You and your DARPA minions,
you're a bunch of malevolent ineptoids!

What the hell was that, Mr. Gummer?

That, sir, is the trigger.

And I am the finger.

Look, I don't know what you're doing,

but I'd strongly advise you not to do it!

Oh?

That Graboid is US government property!

Hate to be a buzzkill.

Shoot it. Blow it out of the sky!

Yes!

Graboids don't make good pets, Mr. Cutts.

Preach on it, Burt!

Yeah!

Yeah!

Mr. Gummer, my plane's
all packed and ready to go.

- Roger that.
- By the way,

nice work.

Dad was right. You are a hard-ass!

Tell your dad I said, "Hey."

Tell him not to drop in.

He's not really the dropping-in kind of guy.

He's more of the barging-in type.

This is gonna be one hell of
a story to tell back home.

Tell him I said you're a
better shot than he ever was.

Thanks, Mr. Gummer.

Call me Burt!

You know I won't be in the
Arctic Circle forever, right?

Six months, I'll be back in the States.

You trying to get sweet with me?

Definitely.

Never gonna happen.

I think it might.

Thanks.

For everything.

Travis, what have you learned from me?

Uh, to not trust anyone or anything ever?

You call that a goodbye kiss?

A man brings a big bore .44 Magnum
to a fight, not some broke dick .22.

Broke dick? That was sweet dick.

- Oh, was it?
- Yeah.

'Cause that sorely lacked any
kind of velocity or stopping power,

not to mention maximum penetration.

Okay, it's a little late to have

the guns-and-ammo talk, Burt. All right?

Pathetic.

- It was better.
- Better?

It was no .44 Magnum. .357, maybe.

Dude, what do you know about kissing?

I know enough not to unholster
my weapon unless I'm prepared to use it.

It's nice to see you back to your old self, Burt.

What do you say we get on home and
get ourselves some real sunshine, huh?

Sounds like perfection, Pops.

Pops.