vacant. the wall clock reads four-thirty.
nauls pats clark on the shoulder and grins, trying to pick up his spirits.
macready theorizes.
the interrogation continues.
the men have gathered to discuss plans. furtive and untrustworthy glances are passed around the room.
copper, clark and garry sit moodily together on a couch.
childs continues guarding the three men.
childs jerks his head around in different directions.
the temperature continues to drop rapidly. childs swats himself to keep warm, while still keeping an eye on dr. copper and the rest of the room.
the generator has been repaired; the lights within the compound are back on.
norris continues his watch on the sedated trio. he anxiously tries to keep an eye on the various entrances behind and in front of him. he rubs his chest in pain.
norris startled by the scream, turns on the siren.
rigid, immobile faces. listening to the storm overhead.
macready, still carrying the industrial torch, has maneuvered all the men into the room. he holds garry's .44. he has untaped the explosives from his chest and laid them on the nearby table next to two more boxes of dynamite.
macready rips linen, soaks the strips in gas, and stuffs them in the molotov bottles. garry tests the current on the door. popping, sparks, smoke.
the same loud music. macready and garry look to the three speakers attached to the walls. macready yells his incomprehension to garry. garry tries to respond. their voices drowned out.
macready, cursing, rips the speakers off the wall.
the sound of the screeching over the music.
they make it in. lock the door.  macready tries to catch his breath. nauls shakes, pants.
the men watch all the doors. dead silence. dark. whispers.
the tractor blazes into the rec room. macready parks it directly in front of the hole in the roof, created by the thing when it surprised them earlier.