Tremors 5: Bloodlines

My name is Burt Gummer. And I have been called many things.

Gun enthusiast, monster-hunter, doomsday-prepper.

I reject all these labels.

What I am is a survivalist.

I have scoured the dirt and dust of Nevada and Mexico,

putting my life on the line to hunt super-size subterranean man-eating predators called Graboids.

Using a combination of local knowledge, intuition and firepower,

I have managed to control this deadly species,

and keep them confined to the Northern Hemisphere.

Join me.

As I enter into and beneath the Sands of Hell.

1500 hours. Moving through the desert of Perfection, Nevada.

Ground zero for war with the Graboids.

For those of you newcomers, who don't have a clue about Graboids,

let me bring you up to speed.

The Graboid is a vicious subterranean predator,

about 30 feet in length with a semi-rigid internal structure.

It senses its prey seismically,

and employs three powerful, snake-like oral tentacles

to ensnare its prey, and pull it into the Graboid's gullet.

It is not a pleasant venue.

Trust me. I have been there.

If that weren't enough, Graboids give birth to three ugly spawn we call Shriekers.

Short, squat, and blind bipedal bad boys that sense and hunt their prey using infrared sensors.

These, in turn, give rise to the Ass Blaster, a winged, predatory carnivore

which uses a mixture of volatile chemicals in its...

...nether regions

to blast into the air and swoop down upon its victims.

Ass Blasters carry eggs that hatch and become new Graboids,

beginning this hellish cycle anew.

I have survived a great many skirmishes with Graboids,

along with their Shrieker and Ass Blaster kin.

And that makes me uniquely qualified

to teach you how to survive whatever life throws at you.

And remember, life and survival

starts here.

Who's hungry?

What're you doing? - (SHUSHING)

Shut your blow hole.

I am tracking.

You feel that?

The only thing you're going to feel is my boot in your bum.

Yeah, good luck, with that gimp leg of yours.

This place is gut boring.

Yeah. And I am tired, and I am starving.

And the only thing we have seen all day is a pack of spotted hyena.

Yeah, it's just the nature of things, boet.

Yeah, well, talking about nature, I am going to drop the kids off at the pool.

Looking northwest, over the Highveld.

All those reports about exotic animals, there's no wildlife here.

Well, speaking of wildlife, I wonder if my wife's going to come back to me.

If she's got brains, definitely not.

You're a complete and utter idiot.

I mean, I am hurting here. I am in pain.

And you mock me.

Basson. You hear that?

I didn't hear anything. I am in conference.

It's right here. Here, here, here, here.

- Whoa! - Whoa!

Basson?

Dreyer!

That's a long drop.

Didn't you see this gigantic hole?

I think I broke my butt.

I am going to grab a rope.

Bro!

I am coming, man, relax.

- Basson? - Yeah?

I am going to throw this rope down.

You grab onto it, I am going to pull you up, all right?

Hurry up. There's something down here.

Okay, grab the rope.

Get me out of here, there's something down here. Just get me out of here.

Yeah, probably my ex-wife, Teresa.

Pull!

Yeah, just help me out man, come on.

You need to lose some weight.

Get me out of here. I am pissing myself.

Basson!

Basson!

Whoo!

107 degrees Fahrenheit.

Hello, Nevada.

Oh, yeah.

Everything tastes better outdoors.

However, if one wants to enjoy a source of sustenance out here,

one has to seize the culinary initiative when it rears its ugly head.

So, let's review.

It took me 50 minutes to build this improvised clay oven.

Thirty-two minutes to fire up the scrub wood, heat the interior,

feed in that snake and seal the door.

Now we wait as this little baby turns snake into snack.

Whoa! That's hot!

Ah!

And voilá!

One sizzling, succulent piece of pure protein.

Whoo!

And you can bet that Burt's Bullseye Brand Cactus Juice Marinade

will eradicate any trace of that "tastes like chicken" residue.

Who the hell are you?

Yowza!

Smells like chicken.

There he is. Huh?

The man, the myth, the legend.

Burt effing Gummer. Travis B. Welker. Sorry, sir. I should have told you that.

Don't mean to be all stalkery, but I have been a big fan of yours

since your Y2K conspiracy series.

Well, I guess that's a wrap.

Maintain position, Riley. It's not Miller Time, yet.

He's all yours, buddy boy.

Your gear's piled over there. And thanks for the Vegas gig. What Vegas gig?

The Real Housewives of Las Vegas.

You can't just adiós on me!

It's a union gig, pension and health. So...

That is your new camera guy, and, well, he comes highly recommended.

Lots of time in the eyepiece.

You're officially AWOL, mister.

So, I take it he didn't give you my resume?

All right, I got something for you here.

This is called a digital file.

It's going to speak to my awesome capabilities.

Kind of wish your website could do the same for you, but I can help.

I beg your pardon?

I am a big fan. You know, possibly your biggest.

But the fact that you're out here in Who-The-Hell-Cares, Nevada,

smoking rattlesnake says something. You know what it says?

It says you're underachieving big time, my man.

You should be a global brand. Come on!

I mean, how many monster-hunters do you know? Huh?

I know one. Burt Gummer.

Last check, how many Twitter followers did you have, huh?

Zilch.

Your opinion is duly noted.

It's what I am here for. To help build out the Burt Gummer brand.

I am thinking, "Paranoid loner meets charming whack job."

I can fix you.

I don't need fixing.

Yo, what happened to your dome, my man? You binge watch Breaking Bad, again?

You trying to appeal to a younger demographic, get a little Pitbull on us?

What I choose to do with my cranium is none of your business.

All right.

This is snake, right, not rat?

Whoa!

That is a win. That's a yummer from The Gummer.

You know what, you look like you could use a cold one.

I know I can. You want?

Hey, I think we're vibing right now, right, Pop? You feel it?

It's good talk. Where's your beer?

Hey.

Hands off my gear.

Lighten up, Pops.

You from the government?

Nope. Florida.

Grew up on the Gulf Coast.

Panama City, Trampa, Pensacola.

- Pensacola? - Yeah.

They got a great gun show.

Yeah, right off the Interstate.

I was there in '74.

You got that look.

What look?

The "I did some dirty things in Florida" look.

Hey, I get it. It was the '70s, free love, you were young.

What now?

Looks like the IRS finally caught up with you.

Mr. Gummer. Mr. Gummer.

You are way off grid, sir, you're a very difficult man to find.

Evidently, not difficult enough.

I am Erich Van Wyk.

I am with the South African Wildlife Ministry.

South Africa? You with the government? What? No, no. I am a big fan of yours.

Go on.

Well, we have a rather pressing situation in Gauteng.

Gauteng. The Cradle of Humankind?

Yes, that's right.

We have a confirmed sighting of what you would refer to as an Ass Blaster.

That's impossible. The species are confined to the Northern Hemisphere.

Oh, well, then, I suppose it's some other flying carnivore

that shoots flame out of its rear end that we have wreaking havoc in Africa?

Is this a confirmed sighting?

Oh, yes, sir. Although the witness is no longer alive.

- When do we leave? - Excellent.

Slow your roll, there, Gums. Okay.

You're quite the fetching bushman, Mr. Van Dick.

It's Van Wyk.

Van Wyk, right, okay. Um...

Mr. Gummer really isn't in the monster business, anymore.

I am what?

Give us a minute, will you?

What the hell are you doing?

I am working this dude for some paper. Paper? Cash. Listen.

You don't take the first offer. Let me close this deal.

Request denied. I work alone.

Come on, but you need a videographer, okay? You need to take the long view on this, okay?

Think about it. The Gummer in Africa.

This is our chance to catch you on tape really doing what you do,

and really giving it to those Ass Blasters.

Okay, that came out weird, but you know what I mean, right?

This is real world, son. You're a newbie.

Newbie?