God, it smells like Hitler's anus...

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Keep 'em up. Hold it there.

It got Beverly.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER ON TV)

Sweetie, you can't go.

You're getting over your sickness, remember?

Okay, what sickness, Ma?

(PILLS CLATTERING)

I'm sorry but the only people that were

It was all my own thinking.

- Sorry, Mom, I gotta go save my friends. - (SOBBING) Eddie!

(DOOR CREAKING)

MIKE: How are we supposed to get down there?