John Q Page #6

EXT. ARCHIBALD HOUSE - DAY

John selling the truck. A prospective buyer inspects as J.Q. waits. He'll take it. J.Q. takes the money, drops the keys in the buyer's hand, and watches his truck drive away.

From inside the house, the phone rings. J.Q. hurries inside to get it.

INT. ARCHIBALD HOUSE - DAY

INTERCUT:

It's empty. Furniture, appliances, everything's gone. Just a few boxes. John picks up the ringing phone.

J.Q.

Hey, sweetheart. How's Mike?

DENISE:

They're releasing him.

J.Q.

What?

DENISE:

Dr. Turner just left. They're sending Mike home in the morning.

J.Q.

What are you talking about? They can't just send him home. I gave them money yesterday.

DENISE:

It doesn't matter. They're releasing him.

J.Q.

But I spoke to the hospital. I took care of...

DENISE:

Yeah, you always take care of it. But it's never enough, is it? You need to do something, John. Do you hear me? Do something.

INT. ARCHIBALD HOUSE - MIKE'S BEDROOM - DAY

John stands in Mike's bedroom, looking at his son's things. Each thing with a memory. The pictures. The toys. The body builder posters. He picks up a photo of John, Denise, and a seven-year old Mike clowning around. Better days.

PUSH IN ON:

J.Q.'s face, thinking, thinking.

EXT. HOPE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL - MORNING

J.Q. steps off a city bus carrying a gym bag. Windbreaker buttoned, baseball cap pulled down tight, he moves with purpose toward the hospital.

INT. EMERGENCY WAITING ROOM - MORNING

The broken, battered and bloodied sit on chairs waiting to be seen.

A BABY BOY wails in the arms of his Hispanic mother, ROSA. MIRIAM, 28, hugely pregnant, sits next to her husband, STEVE, a contractor, dressed in paint-stained coveralls. LESTER, 23, a blood-soaked towel wrapped around his hand.

MITCH, 30's, black jeans, shades, and a huge hangover, sits with his arm around his girlfriend, JULIE, a platinum bombshell. She's hurting. Her face is cut, her eyes swollen. DEBBY UTLEY, a young, sensitive nurse sits behind the admitting desk.

MITCH:

What's going on? Are we going to get seen or what?

DEBBY:

The doctor will be with you shortly, sir.

MITCH Shortly? Shortly we could all be dead. We've been waiting damn near an hour.

The electric doors slide open and J.Q. enters and looks around before moving quickly through and disappearing into the main hospital entrance.

INT. HOPE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL - CORRIDORS - MORNING

J.Q. moves through the corridors intently, a man on a mission. Dr. Turner escorts a wheelchair to the hospital exit. In a wheelchair is a middle-aged man, dressed in designer casuals, a Rolex wrapped around his wrist. His name is CARROLL SHELBY, and he is a transplant patient. One of the lucky recipients. His elegantly dressed WIFE walks alongside.

DR. TURNER

You're doing great, Carroll. You've already gained back five pounds. I think you're the only patient I have who actually eats the food here.

SHELBY'S WIFE

Thanks for everything, doctor.

J.Q. approaches the group. His face reveals nothing.

DR. TURNER

Hello, John. This is Mr. Archibald. His son's a patient of mine.

SHELBY'S WIFE

Well, you're certainly in good hands.

J.Q. forces a smile. The Shelbys say goodbye before leaving.

J.Q.

Denise said you're letting Mike go home.

DR. TURNER

Mr. Archibald, I'm a physician. I don't make policy decisions. That's handled by the board of trustees.

J.Q.

You're head of Cardiac Surgery, Doctor. You're telling me a person in your position makes a recommendation, no one's going to listen?

DR. TURNER

I make recommendations all the time. The final decision rests with the board. Not me.

J.Q. wags a Hope Memorial brochure at Turner.

J.Q.

You and your staff did over three hundred operations last year. It's right here on page 4 of the hospital brochure. Nice color pictures, happy faces. Three hundred plus surgeries at a quarter million a pop. That's seventy five million dollars your department took in. Couldn't you do just one on good faith?

DR. TURNER

Please take your hands off me.

J.Q.

I'm not asking for charity, Doc. I'll pay. I don't know how, but I swear to God, if it takes me the rest of my life, I will. You have my word as a man.

DR. TURNER

I'm sorry. I tried to help. But it's out of my hands.

Something in J.Q. snaps. Heart pounding, he pushes Turner through a pair of heavy metal doors and into the Emergency Room.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - MORNING

J.Q. shoves Turner inside, pulls out a Baretta .9mm, points it at Turner's head.

J.Q.

I'm not asking anymore, Doctor. I'm telling. Now I want a new heart for my kid. You understand?

J.Q. drops the gym bag on the floor, unzips it, pulls out a length of heavy chain. Quickly, he wraps the chain around the power bar, threads a lock and clamps it shut. Turner marches over to a phone and picks it up. J.Q. sticks the weapon in his face.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

Don't even think about it.

Turner hangs up the phone.

SECURITY GUARD:

Hey, what are you doing?

J.Q. sees the stocky SECURITY GUARD, trains the gun on him.

J.Q.

Hands over your head. Do it.

The security guard nervously raises his hands above his head. This part wasn't covered in his training manual.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

Give me your gun.

SECURITY GUARD:

I, uh, don't have a gun.

J.Q. reacts awkwardly, wasn't expecting this response.

J.Q.

Okay. Then sit down. And stay down.

The guard obediently drops into a chair.

DR. TURNER

Mr. Archibald, I understand how upset you are, but this is not the right way to handle it.

J.Q.

I tried your way, Doc. It didn't work. Now we're going to try it my way.

In one of the treatment rooms, Dr. Marjorie Klein and Leo Maguire attend to a man in motorcycle leathers with a bloodied head wound. They watch J.Q. lock the ambulance entrance.

DR. KLEIN

Mr. Archibald. What are you doing?

J.Q.

I took your advice, Doctor. I'm not taking no for an answer.

Several patients and medical personnel see the gun and bolt out the front door. With Turner still in tow, J.Q. hurries to the ER entrance, pulls more chains from his gym bag and secures both doors. Turning back, he sees Lester at the admitting desk arguing with Debby Utley. A clipboard with medical information forms sits in front of him.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

What's going on here?

Lester removes the blood soaked towel. The tips of three fingers have been severed from his right hand.

LESTER:

They want me to sign.

The pen. The hand. It's not going to work.

DR. TURNER

Mr. Archibald, these people have nothing to do with this. You have got to let them go. They need treatment.

J.Q.

This is a hospital, isn't it? You're a doctor. Treat them.

J.Q. points to Lester.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

Start with him.

Turner stands frozen.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

What's the matter, Doc? You want to see his insurance card first?

J.Q. stands on a table addressing the room. A madman with a gun.

J.Q. (CONT'D)

This hospital is under new management, ladies and gentlemen. From now on, free care for everyone.

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