Bringing Out the Dead Page #5

LARRY:

That's what we're here for. Come on,

Frank.

FRANK:

Don't push it, Larry.

LARRY:

You're burned out.

RADIO DISPATCHER

One-three Zebra. Zebra three, I need

you.

LARRY:

You see, he's giving it to us anyway.

RADIO DISPATCHER

Zebra, are you there? I'm holding an

unconscious at First and St. Marks.

LARRY:

(screams)

No! It's three o'clock. That can

only mean one thing.

FRANK:

Mr. Oh.

LARRY:

It's Mr. Oh. I'm not answering it.

RADIO DISPATCHER

Answer the radio Zebra. You know

it's that time.

LARRY:

Four times this week I've had him.

Aren't there any other units out

there? Don't answer the radio.

They'll give it to someone else.

RADIO DISPATCHER

Thirteen Zebra. One-Three Zebra.

You're going out of service in two

seconds.

Pause. Neither moves.

LARRY:

Look, Frank, when I say don't answer

it, that means answer it.

(picks up the mike)

You can do that for me at least.

(keys mike)

Three Zebra.

RADIO DISPATCHER

Yes, Zebra. You'll be driving to the

man who needs no introduction, chronic

caller of the year three straight

and shooting for number four. The

duke of drunk, the king of stink,

our most frequent flier, Mr. Oh.

LARRY:

Ten-four.

(Frank starts the

engine)

Don't go. Not this time.

FRANK:

(driving off)

Relax, it's a street job, easy except

for the smell. We'll just throw him

in back and zip over to Mercy--no

blood, no dying, that's how I look

at it. He's just a drunk.

LARRY:

It's not our job to taxi drunks

around.

FRANK:

They'll just keep calling.

LARRY:

Someone's gonna die someday causa

that bum, going to have a cardiac

and the only medics will be taking

care of Mr. Oh.

CUT TO:

EXT. FIRST & ST. MARKS--NIGHT

Frank and Larry standing over Mr. Oh, 40, surrounded by street

people. Oh lays curled up beside his wheelchair, wearing a

black garbage bag with holes cut out for his arms, his pants

around his knees.

MALE STREET PERSON #1

He's bad mister. He ain't eaten nuthin

all day, he's seizing and throwing

up.

LARRY:

(hand over nose)

So what's different?

MALE STREET PERSON #1

He says his feet hurt.

FRANK:

Well why didn't you say so?

LARRY:

He's drunk.

MALE STREET PERSON #2

He's sick. You gotta help him.

LARRY:

He's fine. He can walk to the

hospital.

FEMALE STREET PERSON

Walk? You crazy? He's in a wheelchair.

LARRY:

Don't start that. I've seen him walk.

He walks better than me.

Frank crouches over Oh, tries to pull Oh's pants over his

white, dirt-stained ass. Oh moans:

MR. OH

Oh, oh, oh.

LARRY:

That's him, Mr. Oh.

(pulls at his arm)

Get up.

Larry and Frank get Oh to his feet only to have him stumble

over his lowered trousers. This time Frank lifts him, sets

his white ass cheeks into the wheelchair. They push him toward

the ambulance.

CROWD:

Good luck! Get better!

CUT TO:

EXT. FIRST AVE--NIGHT

13 Zebra heads up First, double Caduceus symbols shining

from the back of the van.

Inside the cab, Larry and Frank lean out the front windows

to avoid the king of stink:

LARRY:

Faster! God!

FRANK:

(flips on top lights)

Faster!

CUT TO:

INT. MERCY ER--NIGHT

Griss holding up his hand:

GRISS:

Get that stinky-assed motherfucking

bug-ridden skell out of my face.

Frank and Larry stand beside Oh slumped in his wheelchair.

Fellow drunks welcome their comrade from plastic chairs.

Nurse Constance escorts a young man from the triage area:

NURSE CONSTANCE:

I would have to register you to give

you something to eat and my conscience

just will not allow that. Griss,

the gentleman wants to leave.

(looks at Oh)

He looks pale. You're not eating

enough. You need more fiber.

Griss shows young man the door.

LARRY:

(holds up his report)

He's wasted. That's my diagnosis:

sh*t-faced.

NURSE CONSTANCE:

He just needs a bath and some food.

Take him in back and see if you can

find a stretcher.

LARRY:

(to Frank)

She's nuts. That's why he comes here.

She encourages him.

Griss returns as Crupp calls from critical care area:

NURSE CRUPP:

Don't you dare! That's my last

stretcher. This is not a homeless

shelter. He'll have to wait in the

lobby.

GRISS:

No way man. Not even in the corner.

Griss cannot abide the funk tonight.

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