Good Blood Bad Blood

FADE IN:

EXT. A CROWDED MARKET PLACE IN A SMALL, SLEEPY MEXICAN VILLAGE -- AFTERNOON

ISABEL CARON, a pretty young Latina, wanders erratically through the crowd. She stops at several booths, examines their wares and moves on. Shy and self-conscious, she seems slightly uncomfortable and out of place. Several times she looks up to notice a tall, unsavory stranger apparently following her through the marketplace. She stops at another stall and buys a scarf. When she looks over her shoulder the stranger is no longer behind her. She turns to leave and he is standing right next to her.

JULIO:

(squeezes her chin between his thumb and fingers and looks her up and down)

The senorita she is very pretty, si?

ISABEL slaps his hand away and tries to step around him.

ISABEL:

Cabron!

JULIO:

And spirited, too.

Another stranger steps up from behind her, grabs her upper arm powerfully, and jabs a hypodermic into her biceps. At the sting of the needle she turns toward him and slumps into their arms.

CUT TO:

FULL SHOT GALVESTON -- NIGHT

A police car races across the town and arrives at Holy Cross hospital.

CUT TO:

INT. HOLY CROSS HOSPITAL. THE EMERGENCY ROOM -- CONTINUOUS

PAUL THORSSON, doctor on call, and ROSALIE BAXTER, head emergency nurse, have just finished attending a patient. PAUL is young, a few years out of internship, his idealism and enthusiasm waning under the stark reality of the ER. He straightens and stretches his back with a groan. He looks at the patient and then shakes his head resignedly. ROSALIE, a short, stout woman in her mid-forties, has been an ER nurse for twenty years. She has seen many young doctors crushed under its mill wheel and has developed a special affection for Paul, whom she considers almost a son. Slowly, she

pulls the sheet up over the patient's face.

PAUL:

(softly, to himself)

Damn.

ROSALIE places a consoling hand on his biceps. He looks up into her eyes for a moment then goes to wash up. After a moment she joins him at the sink.

ROSALIE:

You can't save them all, Paul.

PAUL:

(slowly looks up into her eyes through the mirror, but is speaking to himself)

I never expected to save them all.

(turns to meet her gaze, continues, speaking to her now)

But so many lost.

ROSALIE:

(softly)

It's late, Paul. Get some sleep. I'll finish up here.

HE looks around the room with all its equipment.

PAUL:

All this technology..., we should be able to --

ROSALIE:

Half the patients that come in here are dead or dying when they get here. That you save any at all is a testament to that technology. That you save so many is a testament to you.

ROSALIE takes his arm and urges him toward his office.

ROSALIE:

Now go to bed. You're exhausted.

PAUL:

The paper work --

ROSALIE:

I'll fill out the general stuff. You can fill in the specifics and sign it in the morning.

PAUL:

I don't --

ROSALIE:

Go. That's an order.

PAUL:

(smiles weakly)

Okay. You sure you're all right with this.

ROSALIE:

Of course. Now get along.

As he retires to his sleeping office off the emergency room, ROSALIE goes to a drawer along the wall, removes a form, and starts filling it out. She stops. She looks up toward his door, her concern and affection obvious. Resignedly, she turns back to the form on her desk.

CUT TO:

INT. A SMALL BOAT AT SEA. -- NIGHT

ISABEL regains consciousness in a grubby, little cabin. A dull light outside the porthole dimly illuminates the room. She is alone. She can hear the throb of the boat's diesel and feel the constant rocking of the boat. As she tries to sit up she discovers her wrists and ankles secured to the corners of the filthy cot. Although she is conscious she is dazed and only semi-aware of her surroundings. JULIO, the tall stranger who had first confronted her in the marketplace, enters the cabin and begins unbuckling his pants. Isabel first realizes his presence when he mounts her. She struggles to push him off of her.

ISABEL:

(weakly)

No. No. No.

While struggling, her right hand comes free. She tears at his face with her nails.

JULIO:

Aiee!

(jerking his hand to his face and looking at the blood)

God damn you. You filthy whore.

He punches her hard, like he would a man, over and over again.

JULIO:

Fucking whore! You fucking whore!

CUT TO:

INT. THE BOAT'S WHEELHOUSE -- LATER.

JULIO and ENRIQUE are crowded into the cramped wheelhouse lit by a single lantern. They are passing a bottle of cheap tequila between them. They are rough looking and dirty. They speak with heavy accents.

JULIO:

(taking a heavy pull and passing the bottle to Enrique)

She is a looker, no.

ENRIQUE takes the bottle and nods. He takes a pull.

JULIO:

Have you tried her yet?

ENRIQUE gives him a stare. TOMAS enters. He is similarly rough and dirty looking.

TOMAS:

The girl is dead.

JULIO:

(rocking his hips)

But you gave it to her anyway, huh, Tomas?

TOMAS:

F*ck you.

JULIO:

I prefer the girl.

ENRIQUE:

(anger flashing in his eyes)

What do you mean the girl's dead?

TOMAS:

She's dead. You know what dead means? Julio beat her to death.

JULIO:

She's faking. I only hit her once. The whore tried to scratch my eyes out. Look at my face.

(turns his cheek toward them)

TOMAS:

Once? Her face is a bloody mess.

JULIO:

Maybe twice. She's a whore. A whore needs to be beaten to show her who's boss. Look what she did to my face.

TOMAS:

You didn't have to kill her.

JULIO:

I told you. I only hit her once or twice. You hit her, yourself. Maybe you killed her, huh?

CUT TO:

INT. ISABEL'S CABIN -- MOMENTS LATER

ENRIQUE enters the cabin. The light from the companionway reveals the girl on the filthy cot, her back to the door. Gently, ENRIQUE rolls her onto her back.

ENRIQUE:

Madre Dios!

Her face is bruised and torn. Both eyes are swollen shut and blood dribbles from her mouth and nose. He leans down close and listens to her breathing. He checks the pulse at her neck.

CUT TO:

INT. THE BOAT'S WHEELHOUSE. -- MOMENTS LATER

ENRIQUE returns and stomps up to JULIO. He punches him in the face knocking him to the floor.

ENRIQUE:

You stupid f*ck.

JULIO jumps to his feet and glowers back. A knife appears in his hand.

TOMAS:

See. I told you. He beat her to death.

ENRIQUE:

(to Tomas, but his eyes never leave Julio)

She's not dead, not yet. But she might as well be. Her face is ruined. She is worth nothing to us like that.

(eyes the knife in Julio's hand, suddenly slaps it out of his hand)

Five thousand dollars, he would have paid for that one. Young and pretty. He could have worked her for ten years, maybe more. Now....

(he stares out the window at the Galveston skyline)

Five minutes from shore and it's all for nothing.

TOMAS:

What do we do now?

ENRIQUE:

Dump her.

TOMAS:

But we can get something for her.

JULIO:

Yeah. Her face will heal.

ENRIQUE:

Her face won't heal. She won't live through the night. Dump her.

TOMAS starts to rise.

ENRIQUE:

Not you.

(to Julio)

Julio.

JULIO:

We are too close to shore. We should wait until --

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