Frequency Page #14

A smooth metal SPIRAL SEED BAG CHUTE.

Frank rips open his jacket and bundles the girl to him. He

works himself and the girl onto the top of the chute.

The ROOM BEGINS TO SHAKE. BRICKS TUMBLE OUT OF THE WALL.

The whole GODDAMN BUILDING is going to COLLAPSE.

Frank lurches forward until he and the girl start to move

down the chute.

INT. WAREHOUSE CHUTE - CONTINUOUS

As Frank and the girl plunge through the bowels of the

inferno...large portions of the building begins

disintegrating around them...a giant storm of BRICKS, MORTAR,

METAL AND BURNING WOOD biting their tails...

Gaining speed through each up-rushing floor...5-4-3-2...Frank

and the girl zoom down towards the END OF THE SLIDE only to

find IT'S BOARDED UP. OH SH*T!

Frank grips the girl tight, raises his BOOTS, bends his

knees, and like a HUMAN BATTERING RAM, SMASHES THROUGH THE

ROTTED PLYWOOD BOARDS

EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/EAST RIVER CANAL - CONTINUOUS

THEY'RE AIRBORNE. Frank and the girl. Floating in SLOW

MOTION out over the CANAL and landing in the water between

the WAREHOUSE DOCK and the FIREBOAT.

A YELL snaps Butch's and Gibson's attention to what is

happening. Gibson starts running for the CANAL, ripping off

his coat and hat before leaping into the water. But Frank is

getting pulled down by his fire tank and the weight of the

girl. Finally, Gibson reaches him, taking the girl. Frank

quickly sheds his jacket and the tank.

Butch stands watching on the dock. He takes a moment to

close his eyes in thankful prayer.

GIBSON:

You okay, man?

FRANK:

(starting to giggle)

Elvis has left the building.

Hitting the water has shot the girl back to consciousness. A

look passes between her and Gibson. A look he won't forget.

SILENCE. Then the thunderous SOUND of the WAREHOUSE CAVING

IN on itself, sending flames shooting high into the sky.

Frank lies back, floating on the water, the rain pelting

around him, letting the miracle of it all, take him over.

FRANK (CONT'D)

(soft)

Little Chief.

CRASH! A GLASS OF WHISKEY SHATTERS ON THE TABLE. WE AR:

INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998

It happens again. Time stutters and repeats. As if the film

sprockets were caught in the projector.

CRASH! The GLASS SHATTERS AGAIN! CRASH...CRASH...

Camera ratchets into the exploding storm of the flying glass,

ice and whiskey. And then time stops as we hold close on a

frozen shard - in it, the cracked reflection of John's eye.

The camera moves through the reflection and into.

JOHN'S EYE

A burst of light and then...distorted images. Like looking

at reflections through a smashed mirror. The cracks gel, and

we are in...

MONTAGE. A SERIES OF QUICK FLASHING IMAGES.

1969:
Frank, Johnny, Butch and Satch at the World Series.

1971:
Johnny and Gordo sitting on Frank's lap, at the Ham.

1972:
Frank and Johnny, playing catch.

1976:
Johnny winning a swimming race at Longbranch Boys Club,

Frank cheering.

1984:
Frank, Julia and Satch beaming with pride as John

graduates from the police academy.

These images appear as DISJOINTED FRAGMENTS OF NEW MEMORIES -

A PAST THAT DIDN'T EXIST BEFORE. A past where Frank Sullivan

didn't die in that fire.

It's like watching random frames from the Sullivan Family's

8mm home movies as John's brain struggles to absorb decades

of NEW MEMORIES in the span of seconds.

JOHN'S POV

Normal vision slowly returning. The broken glass is rocking

on the table.

INT. COP BAR - CONTINUOUS

GORDO:

John. John, you all right?

JOHN:

(a whisper)

Longbranch...?

GORDO:

What?

John doesn't respond.

SATCH:

You're not looking too good.

JOHN:

Whoa, I just...I just...

GORDO:

What is it?

Beat.

JOHN:

My father didn't die in a fire?

GORDO:

Huh?

JOHN:

My father didn't die in a fire?

GORDO:

Fire? What are you talking about? He

had cancer, John.

JOHN:

Cancer. It was the cigarettes. Right?

The cigarettes?

GORDO:

Yeah, lung cancer. Ten years ago.

His hand shaking, John takes a long sip of his beer. Gordo

and Satch exchange a concerned look.

SATCH:

Maybe you outta lay off a little...

JOHN:

Gordo, I wasn't dreaming. I talked to

him, it was real.

GORDO:

Huh?

JOHN:

The Ham radio. That's how come he didn't

die in the fire.

A loaded silence. Three guys looking at each other, thinking

very different things.

INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1969

FRANK:

(into radio mic)

Johnny? Johnny? You there? C'mon,

Chief, answer me...

Nothing but static. Frank jiggles the frequency dial.

FRANK (CONT'D)

Chief?

(louder)

Chief, are you there?

Silence. And then a voice...

JOHNNY (O.S.)

I'm right here, Daddy.

Frank turns. Johnny, sleepy faced, wrapped in his blankie,

stands just outside the room - he looks a little scared.

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