Bringing Out the Dead Page #9

EXT. 12TH STREET--EARLY MORNING

Larry dropping Frank off at the corner of First and Sixteenth,

driving on.

It is as if the sun has risen on a different city, different

from the one which Frank drove through the night before: a

city of crumbling neighborhoods laid bare by sunlight; a

city of day people, getting up, having breakfast, going to

work.

CUT TO:

INT. FRANK'S APARTMENT--DAY

Frank's studio apartment betrays a minimal existence: single

bed, table, fridge and stove, loveseat, bookshelf, television.

The bookshelf contains a CD player, medical texts, old

schoolbooks ("Romantic Poetry"), paperback novels and,

incongruously, a picture book of women's fashion.

A framed commendation from the New York Fire Department hangs

beside and open closet of work clothes, corduroy jacket, two

ties on a hook. Remnants of a fast food breakfast on the

table. Aluminum foil covers the windows, blocking out the

sunlight.

Frank stands bareback at the single open window, smoking,

drinking from a glass of whiskey, looking across the gray

cityscape of high rises and water tanks: winding down from

the night's work:

FRANK (V.O.)

Saving someone's life is like falling

in love, the best drug in the world.

For days, sometimes weeks afterwards,

you walk the street making infinite

whatever you see. Once, for weeks I

couldn't feel the earth. Everything

I touched became light. Horns played

in my shoes; flowers fell from my

pockets ...

TIME DISSOLVES:
Frank paces the room. Pours himself another

drink.

FRANK (V.O.) (CONT'D)

You wonder if you've become immortal,

as if you saved your own life as

well. What was once criminal and

happenstance suddenly makes sense.

God has passed through you, why deny

it, that for a moment there, God was

you.

TIME DISSOLVE:
window is closed. Frank tosses in his sleep.

Nightstand alarm buzzes. Frank sits up, looks at the clock.

Stretching his neck, he walks over to the sink, runs water

on his hands and face.

CUT TO:

EXT. EMS GARAGE--NIGHT

The maintenance garage and dispatch office adjacent to our

Lady of Mercy.

CUT TO:

INT. EMS GARAGE OFFICE--NIGHT

Frank standing on one foot before the desk of CAPTAIN BARNEY,

50, ex-paramedic and lifetime civil servant.

FRANK:

Good morning, Captain.

Capt. Barney looks over to MISS WILLIAMS, his secretary,

seated at a desk perpendicular to his:

CAPT. BARNEY

What am I going to to do with this

guy?

(to Frank)

Pierce, I was just on the phone with

Borough Command. Out of twelve shifts

this month, you've been late for

nine, sick four and that includes

the shift where you came late and

went home early.

FRANK:

I'm sick. That's what I've been

telling you.

CAPT. BARNEY

You're killing me, you know that?

You got no sick time according to

Command. I've been told to terminate.

FRANK:

It's okay. I'll just get my things

out of the locker.

CAPT. BARNEY

I've never fired anyone in my life.

FRANK:

I'm sorry Captain. Don't take it too

hard.

CAPT. BARNEY

Nobody tells me to fire anyone. I

told them:
shove it up the big one.

(looks at Miss Williams)

Sorry.

(back to Frank)

I said, you want to fire him, come

over and do it yourself.

FRANK:

You know they won't do it. It's up

to you. You gotta be strong.

CAPT. BARNEY

I feel for you, but we got an

emergency here. It's a weekend of

full moons. Everyone's called in

sick. Larry, Veeber, Stanley too.

We need bodies out there. I had to

put Marcus on Twelve Young. You know

he's not supposed to work two nights

in a row.

FRANK:

You swore you'd fire me if I came in

late again.

CAPT. BARNEY

I'll fire you tomorrow. Hell, better

than that, I'll forward you some

sick time. A week, two weeks off--

how about that?

FRANK:

I don't think a week's gonna do it.

CAPT. BARNEY

I'm sorry, Pierce.

(hands Frank keys)

You're going out with Marcus. Duty

calls. The City needs you.

CUT TO:

EXT. SECOND AVENUE--NIGHT

12 Young heading downtown, lights off, slowing down for cross

streets. At the wheel: MARCUS, 45, black, reserved, chin

erect, seeming too old for the job. Frank rides techie.

MARCUS:

My Lord mother man, you look like

hell. What were you drinking?

FRANK:

The captain almost fired me tonight.

I'm on my way out. Anytime now.

MARCUS:

Nobody gets fired. Look at me. Only

thing they might do is transfer you

to the Bronx. You look like you aged

ten years since I rode with you last.

FRANK:

The ghosts--

MARCUS:

You ever notice people who see sh*t

always, are crazy?

FRANK:

I think the worst is over.

MARCUS:

It can always get worse. You can't

change what's out there, only where

you're coming from. You got to let

the Lord take over, in here.

(points to Frank's

chest)

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