Bringing Out the Dead Page #20

WALLS (CONT'D)

Bingo.

(keys police walkie)

EMS to Central. What was that call?

POLICE DISPATCH:

A jumper. Stuyvesant Town.

WALLS:

Ten-four. One minute out.

DISPATCHER:

Sixteen, Sixteen XRay. Level One

Emergency.

But they're not listening--Frank's off to Stuyvesant Town.

CUT TO:

EXT. STUYVESANT TOWN--NIGHT

Police cars, fire engines, a massive Emergency Service rescue

truck all flashing dome lights on the street, on the plaza

surrounding Cy Coates' building: cops, Swat team, spotlights,

onlookers.

Frank and Tom, getting out, looking up: the spotlit figure

of Cy Coates, thirteen floors above, suspended on a railing,

legs dangling.

WALLS:

Whadda we bring?

FRANK:

Better bring it all.

CUT TO:

INT. LOBBY--NIGHT

Frank and Tom, lugging their equipment, meet up with cops,

firemen and their rescue equipment.

FRANK:

The elevator's f***ed. We'd never

all fit anyway. Let's go.

FIREMAN:

That's thirteen flights.

WALLS:

The news guys just pulled up.

POLICE SERGEANT:

The stairs, men, the stairs.

The Sergeant leads a half dozen cops and firemen up the stairs

as the elevator doors open. Tom, Frank and two COPS squeeze

inside.

WALLS:

This guy a jumper?

COP:

We got a call for shots fired on

the sixteenth floor. The jumper

called right after.

FRANK:

(to Walls)

I'm going to sixteen.

As the elevator doors close.

CUT TO:

INT. THE OASIS--NIGHT

Frank steps out with the officers. The door to 16M is open:

Kanita lies half in, half out the door, a perfectly round

hole above her eye, splinters of bone and blood down the

side of her nose.

The carpet is soaked with water; shards of glass lie amid

dying fish. A cop returns from the rear hall of the apartment,

stands before photo of volcano:

COP:

That's it, nobody else home.

Frank, looking over the balcony, sees Cy three floors below.

FRANK:

I'm going to thirteen.

Frank heads clown the stairs.

CUT TO:

INT. THIRTEENTH FLOOR--NIGHT

Frank emerges on thirteen: Walls, the panting Police Sergeant

and team have overturned the furniture in 13M: the absent

owners would have trouble recognizing it. The floor is covered

with gas-powered metal cutters, acetylene torches, ropes,

harnesses.

A trail of blood leads to where Walls stands, Tiger's prone

body behind him:

WALLS:

Get this, Frank--we got two patients.

Number one, the scarecrow outside.

Number two misses the railing but

breaks both legs on the balcony,

then throws himself through a glass

window, heads to the bedroom, where

he's now passed out.

FRANK:

(about Coates)

Well, he's the steakhead of the night,

then.

WALLS:

I don't think the fire people can

touch him out there.

FRANK:

How's he doing?

WALLS:

I haven't had a chance to see him

yet. I'm going to take care of

sleeping beauty.

Frank goes over to Coates as two cops strap on harnesses. CY

hangs impaled on the railing, a steel spike passing through

his hip. Glowing in spotlights from thirteen floors below,

Frank takes Coates' vital signs, gently presses his abdomen:

FRANK:

Does that hurt?

COATES:

(screams)

No!

Frank, IV bag in his teeth, putting an oxygen mask on Coates:

FRANK:

I don't think you've hurt any major

organs.

(sets IV line)

We got to get you off this thing

without setting off bleeding.

Cops behind click on harnesses ("You in?" "Yeah" "You in?")

attach straps to pitons they've hammered into the brick wall,

bring out metal cutters and torches.

FRANK (CONT'D)

They're gonna torch the fence. You're

gonna feel the metal getting warm,

maybe very warm.

COATES:

I can't hold up my head anymore.

Frank passes the IV bag to one of the cops, holds Coates,

head. CY relaxes his neck as SPARKS splay like fireworks

beneath him, fall to the concrete.

COATES (CONT'D)

So, Frank, am I going to live?

FRANK:

You're going to live.

COATES:

I've been thinking about things.

Meditating on my financial future.

You guys gave me plenty of time to

meditate on the future. Whatja do,

stop for Chinese on the way over?

There's plenty of food in my place.

FRANK:

I was tired. I needed a coffee.

COATES:

What about Kanita?

FRANK:

Dead.

COATES:

That's too bad. Get some money, a

nice looking girl on your arm, and

everyone wants to take a piece. Some

kid I wouldn't let wash my Mercedes

is in my house, shooting at me. Damn,

I thought I could make it onto the

balcony like Tiger. He's fat, that's

why, falls faster. I'm trying to

watch my weight, and look what

happens. Am I shot, Frank?

FRANK:

No.

COATES:

Boy can't shoot for sh*t, either.

Goddamn that's hot.

Rate this script:3.5 / 4 votes