Robert Conway:
[privately, with George, in the cockpit after the plane has crash-landed]
George, our chances of getting out of this are pretty slim, but it's up to us. We can't have three hysterical people on our hands.
Robert Conway:
[returning to the main cabin, addressing the others]
Well, everything is all right. The pilot won't trouble us anymore. He's.. he's dead.
Barnard:
Dead?
Robert Conway:
Probably a heart attack.
Barnard:
Well.. what are we gonna' do?
Robert Conway:
Well, there's nothing we *can* do until the morning. The storm will probably die down before then. My suggestion is that we.. we better all try and get a good night's rest.
George Conway:
[angrily]
Why don't you tell them the truth! Why don't you tell them we're a million miles from civilization without a *chance* of getting out of here alive! It's slow starvation, that's what it is. A slow, horrible death!
Gloria:
[laughs hysterically]
Well, that's perfect. Just perfect. What a kick I'm gonna' get out of this. A year ago, a doctor gave me six months to live. That was a year ago. I'm already six months to the good. I'm on velvet. I haven't got a thing to lose. But you - you, the noble animals of the human race. What a kick I'm gonna' get out of watching *you* squirm for a change. What a kick!
[laughs again, but then her laughs fade to coughs]
Riportata da il 05/03/2025 alle ore 07:27

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