Frequency

FADE IN:

The legend reads: OCTOBER 10th

EXT. MANHATTAN BRIDGE - PREDAWN - 1969

Darkness. Headlights bounce off thick sheets of RAIN. 6,500

gallon Esso OIL TRUCK barrels over wet studded pavement,

heading towards Manhattan. It's going fast. Too fast.

Up ahead...at the BASE OF THE BRIDGE:

A large reflective sign - lit up by arc lights: MEN AT WORK.

There are TWO WORK CREWS, several hundred feet apart.

THE FIRST CREW is CON ED. A corrugated vacuum tube feeds

into an open MANHOLE. A WORKER drops into the hole.

THE SECOND CREW is CONSTRUCTION. They're at the apron of the

bridge securing lumber supports for the roadbed.

It's late and the men are tired. A mistake is made. A FORK

LIFT loaded with LUMBER fails to negotiate a turn...whacks

into an abutment... spilling its load onto the roadway.

Bad timing, because right now that Esso OIL TRUCK hits the

OFF RAMP. Not a lot of time for the driver to react to a

roadway spewed with lumber.

He does his best. Slams the brakes, spins the wheel, hits

the horn, but it doesn't matter: 18 wheels skid across the

blacktop - spitting thick smoke and burnt rubber, lifting off

the slick pavement...twisting...flipping...hemorrhaging oil

from its ruptured tanks...grinding its way towards...

MEN AT WORK. Seconds to react as an 80,000 pound juggernaut

of death plows through parked cars like paper...crushing the

Con Ed equipment...lurching to a halt on top of the MANHOLE.

EXT. FIRE STATION - 9TH BATTALION - CONTINUOUS

TWO FIRE TRUCKS (1000 Gallon Pumper and Mack Tiller Ladder)

pull into the street.

EXT. LADDER TRUCK JUMPER SEATS - MOVING - CONTINUOUS

SIRENS wail, cherry tops spin.

FRANK SULLIVAN, 40, is strapped into an open-air jumper seat.

A real life hard charger, Frank is the kind of iron's man

fire fighters want coming in after them, should they get

caught in harm's way. Kind-hearted and hard-fisted, he has

the grace and courage of a man living by his convictions.

Across from Frank sits GRAHAM GIBSON, 20. A good-looking

African-American, "Gib" is a Fire Fighter Fourth Grade, a

tank man... and one nervous probie.

Through a window into the CAB, we SEE LT. BUTCH FOSTER, 50,

on a walkie-talkie. A beefy old pro who's been through more

fires than he can remember.

A walkie-talkie sits in a cradle between Frank and Gibson.

BUTCH'S VOICE

(through walkie-talkie)

...oil all over the street. Cracked

water and gas mains. Four companies

coming in...

Butch's voice continues as Frank calmly absorbs the

information, while at the same time.

FRANK:

(re:
rain)

Oh, man. Hope it ain't like this in

Baltimore tomorrow.

GIBSON:

Baltimore?

FRANK:

The game, Graham. The Series?

Gibson taps his wristwatch.

GIBSON:

Oh, yeah. Damn. My watch is busted.

FRANK:

Hey, Rookie. Be cool. Just stay with

me. This is what we do.

GIBSON:

(still tapping his watch)

I seem nervous, huh?

Frank laughs. Gibson grins, relaxes a bit. Frank checks his

ROLEX DIVER'S WATCH. Multiple SIRENS fill the dawn.

FRANK:

It's 5:
30, Gib.

BUTCH'S VOICE

(through walkie talkie)

...two Con Ed men trapped in an

underground electrical conductor vault.

Frank's eyes harden. His game face sets up.

EXT. MANHATTAN BRIDGE - CONTINUOUS

A tableau of impending danger. Thick black OIL bleeds from

teh truck onto the street...pouring underneath the rig...and

into the MANHOLE.

POLICE urgently cordon off the area, evacuating the workers.

EMERGENCY PERSONNEL deal with the badly injured TRUCK DRIVER.

Firemen wedge sandbags between the hull of the truck and the

three-quarters covered manhole -- trying to divert the oil

away from the underground vault.

FIRE COMMANDER O'CONNELL yells at his men to finish the job

and get the hell away.

The BIG TRUCKS ARRIVE. PUMPER ENGINE and Frank's LADDER

TRUCK -- rapidly guided into position by men on the ground.

Frank, Gibson, Butch and the rest of the unit are on the

ground instantly and ready for orders. They are looking at a

nightmare ready to happen. Frank takes in everything.

FIRE COMMANDER O'CONNELL and a CON ED SUPERVISOR approach.

BUTCH:

(deep irony)

A fun one.

FRANK:

Yep.

COMMANDER:

We got high voltage cables ripped loose

in the underground. They hit water, that

fault's gonna arc.

Frank looks at the tanker over the manhole. There is now

nobody around it.

FRANK:

Why haven't they killed the juice?

SUPERVISOR:

Switches are shorted out.

FRANK:

You're shitting me!

SUPERVISOR:

Wish I was. Oldest part of the system

down there. We're on it, but it's gonna

take awhile.

FRANK:

We gotta go underground. Get those guys

out, now.

SUPERVISOR:

We tried. Bulkhead door's rusted shut.

Won't budge.

COMMANDER:

The block is being evacuated. I don't

want anybody... including our

boys...within fifty yards of that

tanker...it's a f***ing bomb.

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