The Child is the Father of the Man.
- William Wordsworth
...the theory of black holes was developed before there was
any indication from observations that they actually existed.
I do not know of any other example in science where such a
great extrapolation was successfully made solely on the basis
of thought. It shows the remarkable power and depth of
Einstein's theory. There is still much we don't know, such
as what happens to objects and information that fall into a
black hole. Do the reemerge elsewhere in the Universe, or in
another universe? And can we warp space and time so much
that one can travel back in time? Maybe someone will come
back from the future and tell us.
- Stephen Hawking
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 fucking bomb.
Frank has been staring at the capsized rig.
Butch knows what he's thinking. But it's too late. Frank is
gone...slogging through the oozing oil to the hull of the
tanker. He kneels over the three-quarters covered manhole,
using a flashlight to peer into the darkness below. Sparks
from the loose cables spit off flashes of light as the cables
hiss and slap against the ceiling and walls of the vault.
FRANK
This is the Fire Department. Frank
Sullivan. You guys okay?
CON ED WORKER #1'S VOICE
Please man, you gotta get us out of
here...
FRANK
That's exactly what we're gonna do.
And Frank is up, heading for his truck, signaling Gibson.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(yells to Con Ed Supervisor)
How do we get to the vault door?
SUPERVISOR
There's a manhole at Canal and Bowery.
BUTCH'S VOICE
Forget it, Frank. No way you reach those
men in time.
Frank grabs a "halaghan claw tool" and a walkie-talkie.
Gibson nervously picks out two helmet lights...and they are
off and running.
FRANK
(yelling back)
I can do it, Butch. Me and my 'tank man'
here.
COMMANDER O'CONNELL
(to all, and into walkie)
Start spraying down the street. Let me
know when we are fully evacuated.
EXT. MANHOLE - CANAL & BOWERY - CONTINUOUS
Frank uses the "adz" to rip open the heavy manhole cover.
INT. MANHOLE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS
Frank and Gibson descend into the tunnel, strap lights on
their leather helmets to illuminate the damp darkness. They
race down the subterranean passage. The stench is thick.
Butch's voice suddenly booms out of the walkie-talkie:
BUTCH
(via walkie)
Frank, you hear me? Frank?
FRANK
(into walkie)
Yeah, Butch?
BUTCH
(via walkie)
The gas level is getting serious.
The underground's combustible - it could
flashover. I want you to abort! Now!
Get the hell out of there!
Frank picks up the pace. Charges ahead. Guy's got balls.
GIBSON
(into walkie)
Frank. We gotta go back. Frank...
FRANK
(calling back to him)
Stay with me, Gib. We're gonna do this.
GIBSON
(charging after him)
I should'a been a fucking mailman.
Frank reaches the rusted 'submarine-like' VAULT DOOR. Pounds
on the door... a faint response. He goes to work on it with
the halaghan tool. Gibson arrives...pretty rattled. Frank
gives him a wink and a smile. It's gonna be okay.
BUTCH
(via walkie)
Frank, where are you?
Frank digs down, suddenly the DOOR GIVES WAY
Oil and water rush from the VAULT, pouring over Frank and
Gibson, foaming into the tunnel. But the door is mounted
three feet off the ground. There is still three feet of oil
and water trapped inside. And the smell of gas is now
overwhelming...
FRANK
(into walkie)
We're in, Butch.
Frank probes the dark vault with the FLASHLIGHT BLADE.
Through smoke we see TWO MEN huddled in the corner, trapped
by three loose 'HOT' CABLES - WHIPPING AROUND THE TINY VAULT
LIKE AN ELECTRIC HYDRA. Con Ed Worker #2 shivers, ankle
broken, leaning on older Con Ed Worker #1.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Time to go home, fellas.
Gibson sprays the room, clearing out most of the smoke.
Frank steps into the vault.
CON ED WORKER #1
Careful. If the hot end of those cables
hits you, it'll conduct to the water and
we're all fired.
Frank drops to his knees, ducking under the cables, shuffles
to center of the vault. Places his hands at opposite ends of
the halaghan tool, hoping for the cables to pass directly
over his head. A hairy beat, then...
Frank jackknifes out of the water, ramming the halaghan into
the ceiling. It worked. The teeth on the "claw-end" and the
spike on the "adz-end" are embedded into the concrete --
STAPLING THE CABLES TO THE CEILING. Make that balls of
steel.
FRANK
Go, Gibby! Everybody move it.
Gibson and Con Ed worker #1 help injured Worker #2 out of the
vault. Frank checks to make sure they've cleared the vault
and lets go of the tool.
Frank jumps into the tunnel, hoists the injured worker over
his back and races back down the tunnel.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(to Gibson)
Haul ass, that claw ain't gonna hold for
long...
(into walkie)
Take cover -- she's gonna flash!
EXT. STREET - OIL TRUCK - CONTINUOUS
O'Connell and the few remaining cops & firemen run for it...
INT./EXT. MANHOLE - CANAL & BOWERY - CONTINUOUS
Frank, Gibson and the Con Ed men scramble towards the
manhole. Butch and another fireman are waiting up top. They
help the men -- who are covered in oil and slime -- up onto
the street. And then they all tear away from the
manhole...around a corner... collapsing on the pavement
against a building.
K-A-B-O-O-M -- A MUFFLED EXPLOSION
The vault ignites, the tunnel "FLASHBACKS" -- a towering
geyser of FLAMES AND DIRT ERUPTING out of the manhole from
which Frank has just escaped.
In the distance, FLAMES erupt out of the other
manhole...engulfing the OIL TRUCK...blowing it into a million
pieces.
Through the INFERNO at the base of the Manhattan Bridge,
Frank can see that no one is hurt. His eyes glistening with
adrenaline and relief, he sits back against the building and
throws an arm around Gibson.
FRANK
You did good, Gib. Real good.
Frank looks over at the hyperventilating Butch and smiles.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Elvis has left the building.
INT./EXT. MIDTOWN TUNNEL - MORNING
Inside the tunnel. Dark. Moving fast. Flashes of LIGHT
bounce off the shiny tile walls. The deep throated ROAR of a
'67 HARLEY battles with Martha & the Vandellas' HEAT WAVE.
We are with Frank, wearing a leather jacket with the insignia
of his fire-fighting unit emblazoned on it, and a New York
Mets BASEBALL CAP pulled down tight, as he rockets his
chopper through traffic, out of the tunnel, and up into...
EXT. QUEENS - STREETS - CONTINUOUS
CREDIT MONTAGE begins as Frank cruises home. It has STOPPED
RAINING. Frank passes by billboards and other evidence of
the approaching METS/BALTIMORE ORIOLES World Series.
He circles a LITTLE LEAGUE ball field waving to some
OLDSTERS.
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - QUEENS - CONTINUOUS
Frank glides the Harley alongside his house. A feisty
DALMATIAN PUPPY ELVIS barks his welcome from behind a fence.
Feeling fatigued, Frank dismounts and enters teh backyard,
playing for a moment with Elvis while he uprights a TRAINING
BICYCLE, tidies up BASEBALL EQUIPMENT, and glances up at a
HAM RADIO ANTENNA secured to the roof, before entering
through a backdoor. There is a sense of routine to all this.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
The kitchen is empty. Breakfast dishes in the sink. Frank
flips on the RADIO. It plays out under the rest of the
MONTAGE as coverage of the oil truck crash blends into other
news stories.
A note on the refrigerator reads: 8:15. Hey, Bud. I'm off
to work. Johnny's at school. Elvis is fed. I luvs you.
Setting a grapefruit and a slice of toast on the table, Frank
glances at the Daily News. But his eyes are tired, he stares
off into space...letting go.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
A radio in the bedroom is tuned to sports news. Frank soaks
in a hot bath. He looks like he might fall asleep - and
does.
CREDITS END.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - AFTERNOON
CRASH! A SOFTBALL BLOWS through the window from the
BACKYARD, landing on the rug next to the bed. Frank bolts
awake, staring at the busted window.
He checks the clock. It is 5:15. He steps to the broken
window. SEVERAL SMALL BOYS scurry from the yard. Two
others, JOHNNY SULLIVAN and GORDO HERSCH, both 6, stand
frozen in place. Elvis tears in circles around them. All is
very quiet. Then, from somewhere beyond the bedroom door, we
HEAR The Beatles' BACK IN THE THE USSR...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
JULIA SULLIVAN, 32, is rockin' out, chopping vegetables.
JULIA
(singing to song)
...show me 'round the smokey mountains
way down south...
Adorable, sweet and strong. Strawberry blonde hair, sapphire
eyes, soft earthy vibe. A beauty.
Frank, wearing FDNY sweats, moves into the kitchen flipping
the softball from hand to hand. Julia turns to him and rolls
her eyes at the sight of the ball. Say no more.
FRANK
Hey, bud.
JULIA
Hey, bud.
Without breaking stride, he gives her a smack on the lips and
steps to the screen door to the back porch.
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BACKYARD - CONTINUOUS
Johnny stands nervously outside the door. Elvis sits at his
side. Gordo watches from the safety of his own porch next
door. Frank opens the screen door, casts a stern look down
at his son.
FRANK
Looks like two weeks worth of allowance,
Chief.
JOHNNY
I know. Sorry, Dad.
FRANK
Glad to hear that.
And Frank drops the softball into Johnny's mitt, closes the
screen door and turns back into the kitchen. Johnny turns
away into the yard.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
With a shrug, and sharing a kids will be kids smile with
Julia, he grabs a cold Rheingold from the refrigerator and
heads into...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS
...past a CONSOLE TELEVISION, to the HI-FI
FRANK
(calling to Julia)
How about a little of the King?
JULIA (O.S.)
(from kitchen)
Well, why not a little of the King?
Julia crosses her eyes, as if she could stop him. Frank
moves to change records.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN
Suddenly, a PAN of spaghetti sauce bubbles over.
JULIA
Damn.
FRANK (O.S.)
You alright?
JULIA
I think I ruined the sauce...again.
As Elvis' SUSPICIOUS MINDS plays, Frank steps back in, moves
up behind Julia, and takes her in his arms.
FRANK
What's the matter, Jules? Trouble
workin' an eight hour shift, watching the
kid and whipping up a little bolognese?
JULIA
You didn't marry Donna Reed.
FRANK
I'd go with you and Chinese take-out over
her any time.
And he turns her around and they start to dance as Frank
sings along to Elvis, badly.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(singing lyrics)
Caught in a trap, I can't walk out,
because I love you too much b-b-baby.
We follow the music as it drifts out into the YARD where we
can SEE Johnny and Gordo looking in at the weirdness.
JULIA
How was your tour?
FRANK
The usual.
Frank spots Johnny and Gordo staring at them. He winks at
the boys and swings Julia into a Fred Astaire dip.
JULIA
(loaded)
Butch called.
FRANK
Did he?
JULIA
He did.
FRANK
It was under control, Bud. Butchy's just
getting tight in his old age.
JULIA
Nothing wrong with old age, Frank...long
as you get there.
With a laugh, Frank drops Julia into another dip. As the
music fades, we...
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - DUSK
CLOSE ON: BICYCLE TRAINING WHEELS lying on the sidewalk.
Johnny is precariously perched on his fire engine red
BICYCLE. He wears a police badge and a whistle around his
neck. Frank stands beside him, holding on to the bike seat.
We're on a quiet side street next to house. It's the last
light of the day.
Hold on Johnny's eyes...fear.
FRANK
Okay, start pedaling.
JOHNNY
Daddy put the wheels back on. I'm gonna
fall.
FRANK
Don't think about falling, just keep
pedaling.
JOHNNY
Daddy, I'm scared.
FRANK
C'mon, Chief, show some guts.
Johnny takes a gulp of air, doesn't want to disappoint his
father, nods okay.
He starts pedaling. Slowly moving forward. Frank holds on
to the seat. Frank's still hanging on - jogging along side.
FRANK (CONT'D)
I'm gonna let go!
Frank let's go. Johnny's pumping those little six year-old
legs, but he starts to wobble out of control -- CRASH!
Johnny starts to cry, quickly gets up and runs back to the
house. Julia comes out of the kitchen door. Johnny runs
into her arms.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Don't quit on me now, Chief.
Johnny tears himself from Julia's arms, runs inside.
Frustrated, Frank lights up another cigarette.
JULIA
Don't be so tough on him Frank, he's six
years old.
(softer)
He just needs to know you're right there
behind him.
Frank takes a deep drag on the butt. Steps onto the YARD and
stares up at the starry night.
ANGLE ON UPSTAIRS WINDOW
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
JOHNNY'S POV: Frank standing in the yard, wishing on a star.
Johnny looks up at the sky and makes a wish of his own.
PULL BACK & PAN UP TO STAR-STREWN SKY, CAMERA RACING TOWARDS:
EXT. OUTER SPACE - CONTINUOUS
Countless points of light blaze across vast blackness. A
luminous blue sphere floats peacefully below EARTH. We are
22,000 miles away in geosynchronous orbit.
MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR PIECE OF HARDWARE drifts into and fills
the frame - 1 1960's COMMUNICATION SATELLITE, NASA & HUGHES
logos affixed to the glistening aluminum hull.
All is still for some moments. But then a sound disturbs the
quiet of the cosmos. It's coming from the horizon. From
something that looks like a hole in the fabric of space.
Bright streaks of starlight swirl around into that hole.
And slowly the satellite begins drifting towards it - pulled
in by some invisible force.
FOLLOW THE SATELLITE AS IT IS SUCKED INTO THE VORTEX.
INT. SPACE ANOMALY - CONTINUOUS
We look through the ripple of warped space-time. As if
holding a lens to one eye, we glimpse two earths at once --
two identical North Americas. The two earths turn
slightly...
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - DUSK - 1998
THROUGH the screen door, we are CLOSE ON A MAN'S FACE,
staring out... JOHN F. SULLIVAN, 35. John's eyes tell us he
needs more than just a shave and a good night's sleep. This
man has demons. Right now he is LOOKING OUT AT:
SAMANTHA TAYLOR, 33. A knockout. Dark blonde hair, piercing
blue eyes. Not happy. She jams a suitcase into the back
seat of her car and starts back for the house.
JOHN
So, that's it, Sam? You're just walking
out?
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Samantha strides in past John towards a washer/dryer.
SAMANTHA
I've been walking out for the last six
months. You didn't notice...or care.
She grabs clothes from teh dryer and exits to...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
...towards a stairway beyond, John not far behind.
JOHN
Fine, go ahead and save the whole world,
Sam.
(sipping his beer)
You don't gotta worry about me.
SAMANTHA
Damn you. I tried. But you wouldn't
help me.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Samantha steps into the bedroom to an open suitcase and
travel bag. She starts jamming the clean clothes into the
suitcase and then begins to close the case and bag.
JOHN
You're right. We should've quit a long
time ago.
Sam can't hold back anymore - she cries openly.
JOHN (CONT'D)
It's not your fault. It's mine. I can't
change. Wish I could, Sam. But I can't.
And suddenly Samantha's tears turn to anger.
SAMANTHA
That's not true and you know it.
John has no reply. All he can do is watch as she takes her
stuff and heads for the door.
SAMANTHA (CONT'D)
Goodbye, Chief.
John stands immobilized in the middle of the room. He looks
down and spots a TEDDY BEAR half stuck under a reading chair.
And then to a photo of him and Sam at a CARNIVAL SHOOTING
GALLERY. Sam's holding the teddy bear. John turns at the
SOUND of the backdoor slamming. Looks out a window down to
Samantha getting in her car and driving away.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
John enters, goes straight for a half empty bottle of
BUSHMILLS IRISH WHISKEY. As he brings the bottle to his
mouth...BRRRRING. The PHONE.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Swigging Bushmills as he steps to a combination portable
phone/answering machine, John takes off his jacket. We
notice two things: an NAPPED DETECTIVE SHIELD and a .38
REVOLVER.
BRRIING. John grabs the phone.
JOHN
What? It don't matter, Lady. Why?...
Cause I don't got no friends or family.
BANG. Slams down the phone. And stares around the room.
WE'VE BEEN IN THIS HOUSE BEFORE -- 29 YEARS AGO. This was
Frank and Julia sullivan's house. Time has not been good to
it. Furnishings haven't changed much, but the house is
missing the warmth it had when a family filled it with love.
John's eyes dart to a PHOTOGRAPH next to the desk. It is a
picture of THE SULLIVAN FAMILY from back then. Too many
memories. He grabs his coat, heads out...
EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - QUEENS - EVENING
The field is EMPTY. Covered in shadows. John sits alone on
the top row of the BLEACHERS, cradling his bottle of
BUSHMILLS. He takes a long pull. As he stares down at the
empty field, his eyes slowly drift over to home plate...
AUDIO FLASHBACK: a VOICE rises up out of the darkness. The
voice of memory...
ANNOUNCER
Batting next. Johnny Sullivan.
We hear the SOUNDS of CHEERING parents. The CLAPPING,
WHISTLING & SHOUTING is hauntingly juxtaposed against the
empty playing field and bleachers we see on the screen.
CRACK: sound of the bat solidly connecting with the ball.
CAMERA follows invisible runner from home to first base.
ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)
Sullivan's safe at first. Batting for
Johnny's father is...Coach Newman.
John takes a deep breath, glances from first base back to
home plate...then looks off into the distance - a cold
thousand yard stare.
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT
John shuffles up the pathway. The SOUND of a TV - X-FILES -
filters out from inside the house.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
John walks in the front door. GORDY JR., 8, carrying an
overstuffed BLT, whizzes by...
GORDY JR.
Hi, Uncle John.
John notices smoke filtering out of his kitchen.
JOHN
I'm not your uncle, kid.
(yelling into kitchen)
Gordo, what are you doing here?
GORDO (O.S.)
Sully! Is that you?
Follow John into the kitchen.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Meet GORDON HERSCH, 35, computer geek, lovable dough boy.
Last seen by us in 1969 as a six-year old.
GORDO
Hey, Sull. My cable's out again.
JOHN
What the hell is that smell?
John glances at a mound of burnt bacon dripping on the stove.
GORDO
Can you believe Ellen still won't let me
cook in the house? I melt one lousy
frying pan, y'know?
Gordy Jr. scoots into the kitchen.
GORDY JR.
John, guess what? Dad's taking me
fishing. Wanna come?
JOHN
Wish I could, Gordy. But you bring me
back a big one.
GORDO
Hey, OK if Gordy uses your old gear?
JOHN
I think it's somewhere in the closet...
if you can find it.
Gordy Jr. runs out. O.S. sounds of him rummaging through
hall closet.
GORDO
So Yahoo went up another two points.
Man, did we miss the boat on that one.
John puts the Bushmills bottle down, and grabs two Molsons.
JOHN
Coulda, woulda, shoulda, pal.
John laughs, hands Gordo a beer, and lights up a cigarette.
GORDO
Sam called Ellen.
John reacts. Nothing else needs to be said. A beat, then...
GORDO (CONT'D)
Why don't you come with us? Three days
of fresh air and barbecue would do you
some good, man.
GORDY JR. (O.S.)
Dad, John, c'mere...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - CONTINUOUS
Gordy Jr. sticks out of the closet, attempting to drag out a
large BLACK STEAMER TRUNK, stenciled with yellow letters.
GORDO
Hey, Gordy, what 'ya doing?
GORDY JR.
Dad, check it out. Fire Department! Can
I open it up?
John thinks about it for a second. Noting the curious glee
in little Gordy's face, nods OK.
Gordy Jr. pops open the latches, opens the trunk. Gordo
crouches down beside his son, checks out the dusty contents.
HOLD ON JOHN'S REACTION to what Gordy Jr. finds in the trunk.
GORDY JR. (CONT'D)
Wow.
Gordy Jr. reaches in and takes out: FDNY HELMET & JACKETS.
Briefly puts on the enormous helmet, then sets it aside.
Reaches back into the trunk and pulls out the disassembled
pieces of a 12 gauge SHOTGUN.
GORDO
Hey! Gimmie that!
Gordo takes the shotgun from the boy and places it gingerly
inside the closet.
Simultaneously, Gordy Jr. hands off a leather-bound SCRAPBOOK
to John. Before John can react, Gordy Jr. lifts up an
AMATEUR RADIO TRANSCEIVER.
GORDY JR.
What's this, Dad?
ANGLE BACK ON JOHN
Powerful memories fill his face.
GORDO
John, that's your Dad's old ham radio.
Remember? Remember how we used to beg
him to let us talk on that thing?
CLOSE ON
the transceiver and microphone - mint condition 1965 Yaesu FT
101, and a "Silver Eagle" Astatic D-104 microphone.
JOHN/GORDO
This is not a toy.
GORDY JR.
Can we try it Dad, can we try it?
Gordo looks at John.
JOHN
What the hell.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS
Glass doors separate the study from the family room. The HAM
RADIO is set on a dusty wooden desk. Scotch-taped to the top
of the radio is a diagram for the radio setup and "QSL"
cards: certificates from around the world acknowledging
"contact" with "WB2YXB" -- FRANK SULLIVAN, BAYSIDE NY.
Gordo hooks up the radio. Gordy Jr. shuts off the TV.
GORDY JR.
So this was what people used before the
Net, huh?
GORDO
Man, do I feel old.
GORDO TURNS THE RADIO ON. Shows Gordy how it works. Gordy
rotates the tuning dial, nothing but "dead bands." STATIC.
JOHN
It's junk, kid. Nobody uses those things
anymore.
KNOCK. Front door opens. John's head turning around. Meet
ELLEN, 35, Gordo's wife. The grown-up in the family.
ELLEN
Gordo, do you know what time it is?
(a beat)
Hi, John.
JOHN
Ellen.
Ellen notices John's weary look but says nothing. We get the
sense she knows what is wrong.
ELLEN
C'mon Gordy, let's go.
GORDY JR.
Oh, mom...
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Gordo and family pour into the yard between the two houses.
John shuffles out behind them. Gordo and Gordy Jr. quickly
disappear into their house, but Ellen lingers for a moment -
looking back at John standing alone.
ELLEN
You all right, John?
JOHN
Oh, yeah.
Ellen holds her glance for a moment. John smiles, thinly
masking his sadness. Ellen nods okay, and she is gone. John
looks up at the stars, then down to the HAM RADIO ANTENNA on
his roof, now looking raggedy from 29 years of neglect.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - LATER
CLOSE ON
TV: LARRY KING is interviewing STEPHEN HAWKING.
John is back on the Bushmills. He races clumsily for the
CORDLESS PHONE. CLOSE ON SPEED DIAL BUTTONS. John hits #3.
JULIA
(answering machine voice)
Hi, this is Julia. Please leave a
message after the tone.
JOHN
Hey, Ma, it's me. Checking in. Probably
at work. Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow
night. Love you.
John puts down the phone. Stares at the FDNY trunk. He
stumbles to it. Sits down and opens it up. It's filled with
his Dad's stuff. He picks up and leafs through the old
SCRAPBOOK - PHOTOS and CLIPPINGS illustrate FAMILY HISTORY...
A quick glimpse of Dad's high school baseball team; Mom and
Dad's 60's wedding.
CLOSE ON PHOTO:
John at his First Communion pictured with his MOTHER - WE
SENSE LOSS AND SADNESS IN HIS EYES - THIS BOY LOOKS HURT.
A folded newspaper drops out. John picks it up. Front page
of the DAILY NEWS. Top half READS: "October 13, 1969.
AMAZIN'S TAKE GAME 2 - SERIES EVEN." The lower half READS:
"FIREMAN KILLED IN WAREHOUSE BLAZE"
He shoves the paper back in the scrapbook. Puts the album
down - he can't deal with those wounds. He glances up at the
TV:
LARRY KING
Is this anomaly connected to the space
storm and the NASA satellite that
disappeared in 1969?
HAWKING
We don't know. But given the
similarities of their location and
appearance, this is a question that
merits further investigation.
NOTE: Larry King's show plays for the duration of this
scene.
John settles in, takes off his work shirt. Underneath he has
on a T-shirt. We notice a NICOTINE PATCH on his arm.
Doesn't stop him from burning another Marlboro.
JOHN IS SUDDENLY STARTLED BY A NOISE FROM THE STUDY - A LOUD
BURST OF STATIC.
FRANK
(over radio)
CQ 15, here is WB2YXB, by for call.
John gets up, Bushmill bottle in hand, and stumbles into...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS
FRANK (O.S.)
CQ 15, come in 15.
Approaching the desk, John sits down at the radio. Reaches
out to the mic -- presses down on the red squawk bar.
JOHN
Uh, hello?
FRANK (O.S.)
WB2YKXB, who've I got?
JOHN
(slightly slurred)
Name's John.
In the BACKGROUND of FRANK'S VOICE, we barely hear WALTER
CRONKITE interviewing someone.
FRANK
Are you licensed to broadcast, buddy?
JOHN
Look, I don't really remember how this
thing works.
FRANK
Listen, you can't broadcast without a
license. Unless this is an emergency,
you gotta get off the band.
JOHN
(chuckling)
Pal, my whole life's an emergency.
A pause.
FRANK
Where are you transmitting from?
JOHN
Queens, New York.
FRANK
Whatta ya know. Bayside, born and
raised.
JOHN
I thought these things were for talkin'
around the world.
FRANK
15-band closes down at night. During the
day you can chew the band with China if
you want.
JOHN
I can't believe people are still using
these things.
As John releases the squawk bar, the distant sound of Frank's
TV filters out of the HAM.
FRANK
Can you hold on a second?
And then John hears the sound of a door closing.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Sorry 'bout that. So Queens, you psyched
for the Series?
JOHN
(taking a swig)
I don't really follow baseball anymore.
FRANK
What?
JOHN
I got fed up with all the bullshit.
FRANK
Fed up? Lemme tell you something, in a
1000 years, when school kids study
America, they're gonna learn about three
things: the Constitution, Rock 'n' Roll,
and Baseball.
Despite his mood, John has to smile.
FRANK (CONT'D)
How can you live in Queens and not love
the Amazin's?
John warms to the topic of his boyhood heroes.
JOHN
If you're talking The Amazin' Mets, well,
that's different. You know people talk
about Seaver, but I'll love Ron Swoboda
til the day I die.
Static crackles out over the radio. The signal weakens.
FRANK
(through static)
I'm right with you, man. He's got the
heart of a lion. Hey, how 'bout the
first game of the Series?
JOHN
Yeah. It was all over after Buford
nailed Seaver's first pitch outta the
park.
More static.
FRANK
No way, brother. Ain't gonna happen.
BZZZSSSSHHHH - loud static. THE SIGNAL IS GONE.
JOHN
Who the hell was that?
Behind him, on TV, Larry King and Hawking continue talking.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1969
ANOTHER FINGER PRESSING DOWN ON THE RED SQUAWK BAR... FRANK
SULLIVAN. Seated at the polished wooden desk.
FRANK
Hello, Queens. You there?
Silence. The signal is gone. Frank leans forward, jiggles
the frequency dial, trying to regain the signal. No luck.
Slightly frustrated, he stands and opens the glass doors to
the family room where Julia is watching TV - a very young
STEPHEN HAWKING is being interviewed by WALTER CRONKITE, 52.
JULIA
Frankie, Johnny wants to say goodnight.
FRANK
(a little distracted)
Sure.
He starts to take a step into the room, and stumbles over
Elvis, sleeping by the door...KNOCKING INTO and CRACKING a
GLASS PANE in one door.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - 1998
John, dog tired and more than a little wasted, gets up from
the desk, inadvertently leaving the Ham Radio ON, and
shuffles for the family room through the glass doors.
CAMERA HOLDS, CLOSE on the GLASS PANE...CRACKED in the exact
same spot where Frank knocked into it 29-YEARS AGO.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969
Frank unpins the police badge from Johnny's shirt, takes the
whistle from around his neck. He pulls up the covers and
softly kisses Johnny's forehead. You can tell he loves this
kid more than anything in the world.
FRANK
(lullaby-like)
Take me out to the ballgame, take me out
with the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and
cracker jack...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - FAMILY ROOM - 1998
John plops down on sofa, half asleep. The TV drones on.
JOHN
...I don't care if I never get back.
FADE TO BLACK.
The LEGEND reads:
OCTOBER 11th - FIRST GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES
Blue sky. A SOFTBALL soars into view. It drops down and
into a WILLIE MAYS' style basket catch by Frank Sullivan.
EXT. LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL FIELD - QUEENS - DAY - 1969
The same Little League field that Frank circled on his Harley
yesterday, October 10, 1969. And the same field at which
John sat in the stands drinking last night, October 10, 1998.
We are in the 9th inning of a friendly SOFTBALL GAME between
the local COPS and FIREMEN. A lot of NYPD and FDNY T-shirts,
sweats and caps. Plenty of Mets stuff, too.
Having made the catch, Frank coolly pulls the ball from his
mitt as he starts running toward the infield diamond.
Tagging up at 3rd, sorely tempted to try for home is SATCH
DELEON, 30, NYPD Detective. Satch feints for the plate,
Frank feints the throw. For a maddening, gleeful moment,
Frank has Satch caught between 3rd and home.
In the STANDS, Johnny Sullivan, Marge Hersch and the FAMILIES
of the other ballplayers scream for whomever they want to win
this game of chicken.
On the SIDELINES, Johnny, Gordo and the other KIDS serving as
BATBOYS and WATERBOYS, jump around in anticipation.
At HOME, Butch Foster stations himself to take the throw.
Suddenly, Satch fakes to 3rd, then bolts for home. Frank
pegs it to Butch, who tags the sliding Satch. Game over.
SATCH
Lucky throw, fire boy.
FRANK
(jogging in)
Luck, my ass.
They square off. Pretending to fight. Julia steps between
them. And they all descend into laughter.
Frank and Satch each wrap an arm around Julia and start off.
Within a step, Johnny slips in under Frank's other arm.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(to Johnny)
See that, kid. Practice. Practice.
INT/EXT. BUTCH'S HOUSE - DAY - LATER
Close on a TV: PRESIDENT NIXON tosses the first ball to open
the 1969 WORLD SERIES.
REVERSE to see many of the PLAYERS and FAMILIES from teh
softball game are parked around a couple of TVs watching the
game. BEER flows from a keg. SOFT DRINKS are passed around.
HAMBURGERS and HOT DOGS are cooking on the BBQ.
Satch sits with Johnny and Gordo and some other kids.
Frank and Julia tend the BBQ. Butch brings out some beers.
A fun day.
EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - DAY - 1998
A DETECTIVE'S CAR pulls up next to a couple of BLUE & WHITES
at West 155th St. The Northern tip of Manhattan Island.
Across construction barricades is a half-torn down GREEK
RESTAURANT. Several UNIFORMS can be seen beyond it, looking
at something on the ground.
As John exits the car, the passenger door swings open and we
MEET a guy we haven't seen in 29 YEARS - SATCHEL DELEON, 59.
Shaved head, square jaw. A ram-rod straight, craggy warrior.
Thirty-plus years on the force now endow him with a rare
combination of smarts, guts and sense of humor.
SATCH
(as they walk)
Don't choke on your pride, Sull. You
ain't ever gonna catch another one like
that.
JOHN
She made up her mind. Nothin' I do is
gonna change it.
SATCH
Nothing you're willing to do.
Spotting John and Satch, a UNIFORM approaches them. They
keep on walking.
JOHN
What's the story?
UNIFORM
Survey crew found a body. Actually a
skeleton. Over here.
The uniform leads John and Satch around some overgrown weeds
to SEE a patch of freshly unearthed dirt...out of which
sticks a HUMAN SKULL and COLLAR BONE.
In the B.G., a CRIME SCENE unit can be seen arriving by van.
SATCH
Be real careful when pulling it out. And
get the dirt around it.
As Satch turns to talk to a second UNIFORM and a couple of
SURVEYORS, John notices a man raking leaves in a yard not far
away. As he starts to him, to Satch:
JOHN
I think I'll visit the neighbor.
INT. SHEPARD RESIDENCE - DAY - CONTINUOUS
CLOSE ON FRED SHEPARD, 72. As the scene unfolds, we can SEE
the half torn down diner/crime scene through a window. Satch
oversees the operation.
MRS. SHEPARD, 70, hands John a cup of coffee.
JOHN
Thanks.
John looks out the window.
MR. SHEPARD
Used to get breakfast there all the time
back from the boat. Them Greeks were
good people. Once that McDonalds opened
up on Dyckman, they lost all their
business.
John glances around the room - notes family PHOTOGRAPHS.
There's a picture of Shepard in younger days on a commercial
fishing boat. Next to it a faded black and white picture of
Mrs. Shepard, 35. A few pictures of the Shepards and their
YOUNG SON. And at the end, a color photograph of the same
son, about 20, in DRESS BLUES, graduating from the Police
Academy - CLASS OF '64.
JOHN
Your son on the job?
MR. SHEPARD
Was. Carl died in the line of duty.
October '69.
JOHN
I'm sorry.
Shepard points to a frame above the fireplace: Distinguished
Service Medal, CARL SHEPARD, awarded posthumously.
MR. SHEPARD
My boy lived and bled blue.
Silence. Mr. and Mrs. Shepard stand very still. John
discreetly glances at his watch.
EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - MOMENTS LATER
THUNDER in the distance. CRIME SCENE personnel have made
some progress in unearthing the skeletal remains. A couple
of drops of rain tap the ground and the bones.
John stands looking down at the skeleton. A long beat. And
then he turns to Satch and they start for the car. Behind
them, the skeleton is carefully pulled free from the ground.
WE SEE its wrists are BOUND with GLASS TAPE.
INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - MANHATTAN - EVENING - LATER
CHINESE TAKE-OUT CARTONS are placed in a microwave.
WIDEN TO REVEAL
the woman holding the cartons: JULIA SULLIVAN, 29 YEARS OLDER
than the last time we saw her. But she looks okay, she looks
happy.
We are in the kitchen of Julia's Upper West Side apartment.
It is raining. We notice THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE
outside a BAY WINDOW.
JULIA
(calling out)
I thought it'd be nicer to eat here.
JOHN (O.S.)
Sounds good.
JULIA
(walking into the other room)
I'm sorry Sam couldn't make it.
JOHN
(lying badly)
Yeah, those grad school applications are
driving her crazy.
Julia hands John a Coke. Close on her face - she feels her
son's pain.
JULIA
I'm sure everything'll work out.
(beat)
She really loves you...
JOHN
(changing the subject)
So how are things at the hospital?
JULIA
Fine. You know Dr. Schwartz retired last
month?
JOHN
No kidd'n, he musta been pushing 90!
JULIA
Close.
Beat.
JOHN
So how'd you like LION KING?
JULIA
Oh, I loved it. I wish you'd gone.
JOHN
I know. I'm sorry. Work.
JULIA
You work too hard, John.
JOHN
Look who's talking.
They share a laugh. And then slowly the laughter dies.
John's expression changes as he quietly lights a cigarette.
Julia knows what he's thinking...
JULIA
29-years tomorrow.
A long beat.
JOHN
I wish I could remember him better.
Truth is, most of the stuff I know is
from the stories you used to tell. But
they're not mine. They're not my
memories. They're yours.
Julia glances at an old photo of Frank, then back to John.
JULIA
You would have liked him, John. And he
would have liked you.
PING. The microwave timer sounds off.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CLEAR NIGHT - 1969
CLOSE ON
Frank's dog, Elvis. Poking his nose in a carton of Chinese
take-out on the floor. An arm drops into frame - scruffs the
puppy's back. The Rolex diver's watch tells us the arm
belongs to Frank.
WIDEN TO REVEAL:
Frank sitting at his desk. He fires up an unfiltered LUCKY
STRIKE, pops a Rheingold. Next to him a Daily News headline -
NASA INVESTIGATES SPACE STORM.
FRANK
...WB2YXB calling unidentified station,
Queens. CQ 15.
JOHN (O.S.)
(over radio, sounds like he's
had a few drinks)
Hello?
FRANK
I been Q-ing you all night. How the hell
did you do it?
JOHN (O.S.)
Huh?
FRANK
The World Series. You called Buford's
homer.
JOHN (O.S.)
Wasn't too tough, buddy. Game happened
almost thirty years ago.
FRANK
What are you talking about? I'm talking
about this afternoon.
JOHN (O.S.)
This afternoon?
Frank puts his finger on the squawk bar, about to say
something, but just at that moment his son Johnny appears in
the doorway in his pajamas.
JOHNNY
Daddy, come up and sing the baseball.
FRANK
(to Johnny)
I'll be up soon, Little Chief.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - RAINY NIGHT - 1998
John Sullivan's face, thunderstruck. The camera stays on
John. He puts down his drink.
FRANK (O.S.)
Sorry 'bout that.
JOHN
What'd you just say?
FRANK (O.S.)
Oh, that was my kid.
John looks up at the photo on the wall: FRANK, JULIA AND SIX
YEAR OLD JOHNNY SULLIVAN (CIRCA 1969). A beat, then:
JOHN
You call your son Little Chief?
FRANK (O.S.)
Uh huh...
JOHN
What'd you say your name was?
CUT TO CLOSE ON
FRANK
Frank...Frank Sullivan.
NOW BACK ON
JOHN
Is this some kind of joke? Gordo is that
you? Are you fucking with me?
FRANK (O.S.)
Look pal, I'm just askin' how you...
JOHN
You're telling me your name is Frank
Sullivan, you live in Queens and you just
saw the first game of the '69
Series...live?
FRANK (O.S.)
Right...and I'm asking how you called the
game.
JOHN
Gordo, if this is you, so help me...
FRANK (O.S.)
What the hell does Gordy have to do with
it?
John's POV - top of radio - in FADED PEN, on a piece of
masking tape, is written: "WB2YXB"
JOHN
What'd you say your station...uh, your
call letters were?
FRANK (O.S.)
W...B...2...YXB.
The call letters hang in the air. A breath, then...
JOHN
Now you listen to me. My name is John
Francis Sullivan, I live at 1060 41st,
where I've lived my whole life. And I
saw the first game of the '69 Series at
my Uncle Butch's house with my father...
FRANK (O.S.)
What?
JOHN
29-years ago.
CUT TO:
Frank dropping his cigarette in the ashtray. It rolls out
and lies smoldering on the desk. He doesn't even notice.
FRANK
29 years...?
BACK ON
JOHN
My dad's name was Frank Patrick Sullivan,
he was a fire fighter and a die-hard Mets
fan. And every night when I went to bed
he sang to me...
(softly, almost singing)
Take me out to the ball game, take me out
with the crowd...
Beat.
FRANK (O.S.)
What the hell...
JOHN
I'm dreaming this. Shit, this is a
dream.
FRANK (O.S.)
I'm not dreaming.
John reaches out to touch the radio. But he stops, his hand
hovering just above it.
JOHN
So you're Frank Sullivan, huh? It's 1969
and you're sitting at your desk in the
study, just chewin' the rag?
BACK ON FRANK.
He smells smoke, sees the cigarette burning a hole in the
desk. Spooked, Smokey the Bear just started a fire.
FRANK
Christ!
Frank beats out the flame with the newspaper.
JOHN (O.S.)
What's going on?
FRANK
(lying)
Nothing...I just spilled something.
CUT TO:
A DISTINCTIVE BURN SCAR GRADUALLY MORPHING ONTO JOHN'S DESK.
John pushes the Bushmills to the side, staring at the scar.
It hits him - hard.
JOHN
Oh my god.
FRANK (O.S.)
What?
JOHN
You just burned the desk.
FRANK (O.S.)
What's happening?
John rubs his fingers over the old burn scar.
JOHN
You burnt the desk...I can see it.
Eerie quiet, the only sound is the rain outside John's
window.
BACK ON
FRANK
That's impossible.
JOHN (O.S.)
What if it's not...
ON JOHN
reaching out, touching the radio.
JOHN (CONT'D)
Dad...?
FRANK (O.S.)
Johnny...?
Shockwave. A long moment of absorption. INTERCUT Frank and
John.
FRANK (CONT'D)
How could this be happening?
JOHN
I don't know.
FRANK
We gotta be bouncing off the mother sun
spot of all time.
JOHN
Sun spot?
FRANK
Yeah, that's how Hams work.
JOHN
Wait a sec...there was something on the
news. Something about this space
anomaly. I think they said it was
connected to some storm in '69.
Frank glances at DAILY NEWS HEADLINE - SPACE STORM. He says
nothing for a long beat, struggling to understand.
FRANK
You sound...ground up...?
JOHN
I'm thirty-five years old.
FRANK
Thirty-five? That would make it...
JOHN
1998.
Frank pulls back from the radio...
FRANK
1998...? This is wrong. Who are you?
Why are you doing this?
JOHN
I'm not doing anything.
(beat)
Look, I don't know what's going on. But
I swear on my life, I"m here at your old
desk, on your Ham, in our house, right
now...in 1998.
John's voice has a conviction that Frank cannot deny.
FRANK
It's really you, isn't it?
JOHN
Yeah...I think so.
Silence. Both men trying to wrap their minds around the
reality of the situation. Slowly accepting.
FRANK
Thirty-five? Jesus, you're almost as old
as I am...
(long beat)
What's your life like? You married? Got
kids?
Beat.
JOHN
No, not yet.
FRANK
Too busy playin' ball, huh?
JOHN
Nah, I gave it up.
ON FRANK
Johnny gave up baseball?
FRANK
You happy?
John takes a sip, the answer caught in his throat.
FRANK (CONT'D)
You're still my Little Chief, right?
JOHN
I'm trying to be, Dad. I'm tyrin'.
(pausing)
It's good to hear your voice.
(quiet beat)
I missed you...so much.
Quiet beat. A burst of static crackles the air.
JOHN (CONT'D)
(re: static)
What's that?
FRANK
I think I'm losing you.
JOHN
No wait, don't go!
FRANK
It's okay. I'm still here, Chief.
JOHN
But you're not...you're not still here.
More static. The signal breaks up, then returns weaker.
FRANK
What are you talking about?
JOHN
I lost you.
FRANK
What?
JOHN
I never knew you, Dad.
FRANK
Why?
JOHN
Fire.
FRANK
On the job?
JOHN
It was an abandoned warehouse - hit by
lightening.
(beat)
Butch told Ma it was just one wrong turn.
Said it wasn't your fault. You went with
the training, with your instincts.
(beat)
If you'd just gone left instead of right,
you would've made it.
FRANK
That can't be...that's not gonna happen.
JOHN
It did, Pop. It did.
FRANK
When?
JOHN
October 12, 1969.
Heavy static now. They can barely hear each other.
FRANK
But that's tomorrow.
JOHN
(fully realizing)
Tomorrow. Jesus...it hasn't happened.
It doesn't have to happen.
Both men frantic. Their words overlapping...
JOHN (CONT'D)
Don't go. Don't go in that warehouse...
FRANK
I don't understand.
Final blast of static. The SIGNAL is GONE. The BAND is
GONE.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969
Moonlight casts a glow over the sleeping Johnny. Frank steps
in and stands looking down at him.
EXT. ROOF OF JOHN'S HOUSE - NIGHT - 1998
John crawls out a window, through the rain, onto the roof.
JOHN'S POV
Rusted Ham radio antenna, half-fallen over.
John scoots over to it, straightening it. But he slips,
sliding down the roof, coming to rest against the chimney.
A light pops on from an upstairs window across the street.
Gordo appears in the window. Does a double take when he sees
John, sitting on the roof, soaked, drunk.
GORDO
(sliding open window)
Sull! What the hell!
JOHN
I talked to him Gordo. I talked to my
Dad.
Gordo's heart starts to break. His best friend has slipped
over the edge.
GORDO
C'mon, man. Get inside. I'll come over.
We'll play some Nintendo.
JOHN
No. I gotta tell him the address, so he
doesn't go in.
GORDO
Go in where?
JOHN
The warehouse. Buxton seeds. It's
tomorrow.
GORDO
I know pal. I remember. Twenty-nine
years tomorrow.
The LEGEND reads:
OCTOBER 12th - SECOND GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES
EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE/BUXTON SEED CO. - AFTERNOON - 1969
BLACK CLOUDS, EARTH SHATTERING THUNDER. A massive BOLT OF
LIGHTNING rockets out of the menacing sky STRIKING THROUGH A
WINDOW on the 3rd floor of the warehouse. A FIRE BEGINS.
INT. FIRE HOUSE - 9TH BATTALION/REC ROOM - CONTINUOUS
GAME 2 plays on TV. Butch, Gibson and the rest of the unit
sit around enjoying the game. A very distracted Frank stands
watching from the doorway to the kitchen.
We are in the bottom of the 9th with the Baltimore Orioles'
Brooks Robinson coming to the plate.
GIBSON
Oh, man. Robinson is gonna nail it and
we're gonna be dead.
SUDDENLY THE ALARM SOUNDS, moving the groaning firemen
reluctantly to action, and freezing Frank in surging anxiety.
Gibson is up and passing Frank...who begins to move like he's
in a trance.
A RAPID MONTAGE of Frank, Butch and the others readying to
head out. Gibson grabs a little TRANSISTOR RADIO.
BUTCH
Let's move it, gentlemen...three alarm.
Lit up abandoned warehouse. West 49th.
Frank looks like he's going to throw up.
EXT. MANHATTAN ST. - COP BAR - DUSK - 1998
John, lost in thought, rounds a corner towards the bar.
EXT. STREET - LADDER TRUCK - MOVING - AFTERNOON - 1969
The LADDER & ENGINE trucks barrel out of the firehouse.
As SIRENS SCREAM, Frank and Gibson secure themselves into
position. Gibson excitedly switches on his radio to the
game. He notes that Frank is not the least bit into it.
GIBSON
Sully, you cool?
Frank seems not to hear him.
GIBSON (CONT'D)
Frank. Hey, man. You alright?
FRANK
I'm alright, Gibby.
From the RADIO we HEAR the last play of the game as Brooks
Robinson grounds out 3rd to 1st. METS WIN! CHEERS are heard
in the streets and from the CABS of the racing fire trucks.
Gibson whoops it up. Frank barely acknowledges the win.
INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998
John moves through the crowd of cops - ad lib greetings -
slides into a booth occupied by Satch and Gordo.
GORDO
How you feeling?
JOHN
Better.
SATCH
You get your roof fixed?
John shoots a look at Gordo, who quickly changes the subject.
GORDO
Can you believe it, Yahoo goes up another
point today...
EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969
Located off the East River in lower Manhattan. The 9th
Battalion Fire trucks are first on the scene. A couple of
GREEN & WHITES are already there, uniform cops keeping a few
onlookers at a safe distance.
FLAMES shoot out from the 4th and 5th FLOOR WINDOWS.
Starting to lick their way up to the 6th floor and roof.
SMOKE billows out of the windows on the 3rd and 2nd floors.
Lighter smoke spirals out from the door on the 1st floor.
Frank, Gibson and other firemen under Butch's command take
stock of the situation and start to deploy.
HOSES are run from HYDRANTS to the PUMPER TRUCKS.
The LADDER is swung into position for an assault on the roof.
GIBSON
Bastard's moving fast.
BUTCH
Thank God it's abandoned.
(to the men)
Surround and drown...nobody goes in.
Frank nods in agreement. Directly above them, another BOLT
OF LIGHTNING CRACKS through the darkening sky.
A death shudder creeps up Frank's spine. And for the first
time in his life, Frank Sullivan is SCARED SHITLESS.
Frank stares up at the sky, transfixed. THUNDER punches the
sky with a huge roar. RAIN starts to fall.
And in the distance, as if from inside the burning building,
a FAINT SCREAMING is first heard, and growing louder.
FRANK
Hear that?
BUTCH
What?
Suddenly, out of the building runs a STONED TEENAGE GIRL
screaming and babbling incoherently.
GIRL
Help! Help! Oh, god. Help. She's up
there. She's trapped! Please!
Immediately galvanized, Frank moves to the girl.
FRANK
Hey, hey. It's gonna be okay. We're
gonna help. Okay? Okay.
She starts to calm down.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Now tell me, who's up there?
GIRL
My girlfriend, Molly.
FRANK
Where?
GIRL
In a room...an office...or something. We
live there. Top floor. Something fell
on her. I couldn't help her. Please,
you gotta...gotta...
Frank looks to Butch. A beat. Butch gives him the nod.
Frank and Gibson gear up and go.
INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998
GORDO
You realize that if you'd bought a
thousand dollars worth of Yahoo in '96,
it'd be worth fifty-grand today?
SATCH
You doin' okay, John?
JOHN
Tough day, you know.
Satch and Gordo nod in sympathy. Gordo raises his glass.
Satch and John follow. A yearly ritual.
GORDO & SATCH
To your dad.
JOHN
To my dad.
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969
Frank and Gibson step into the warehouse. Butch behind them.
Flames haven't reached this area yet, but the ROAR of the
fire above them is deafening, and smoke billows down THE
STAIRWAY before them. They sprint towards it and start up.
ONE FLOOR. TWO FLOORS. THREE FLOORS, and suddenly they are
face to face with a WALL OF FIRE blocking access to the 4th
floor.
Frank and Gibson stop and stare into the inferno.
FRANK
It looks open on the other side.
GIBSON
Don't know what's behind it.
FRANK
One way to find out.
And he barrels through the line of fire onto the 4th floor.
Gibson starts to do the same when the 5th floor gives way
above Frank, sending burning timber and debris cascading
around him and cutting off Gibson's route.
Now Frank's only way to go is up the stairs toward the 5th
floor. He turns to Gibson. Coming up behind him is Butch.
Across a gulf of flames Frank yells and waves at them to get
the hell out. And then suddenly, part of the 3rd floor
around Gibson and Butch starts to go.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(screaming over fire)
Get out...while you still can...
Frank turns and bolts for the 5th floor as a huge flaming
BEAM CRASHES down onto the stairway behind him, forcing
Gibson and Butch to scramble like hell back down the stairs.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(soft)
...it's not your time.
INTERCUT WITH
EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Fire fighters are efficiently and expertly hard at it.
Running out lines. Extending ladders. Moving a FIRE BOAT
into place - all communicating via walkie-talkies all on teh
same frequency.
The BIG LADDER is now in place. As it telescopes up, the
ROOF MAN, BILL CAWLEY, begins his climb.
PUMP TRUCKS and THE FIRE BOAT keep pumping water onto the
blaze. But no matter. For the moment, this is one OUT OF
CONTROL NIGHTMARE FIRE.
BACK TO
Frank reaching the 5th floor. It's an inferno. He keeps
moving, tearing up the stairs for the 6th floor.
GIBSON (O.S.)
(over walkie)
Gotta be another way up, Frank.
FRANK
(into walkie)
Then fuckin' find it.
(heading in)
I'm going for the girl.
BUTCH (O.S.)
(over walkie)
Billy, you better get up top.
EXT. WAREHOUSE BUILDING/LADDER - CONTINUOUS
ROOF MAN edges up the ladder, as it telescopes above him.
ROOF MAN
This is Billy, Frank. I'm on my way.
South side.
INT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
FRANK
(reaching 6th floor)
Glad to hear it. See you on top.
FIRE has torched OPEN a GAPING HOLE IN THE ROOF.
Frank peers around through the smoke and fire and rain. Then
he sees, huddled in the temporary saftey of the corner of an
OFFICE, but trapped by a fallen CONDUIT, the GIRL, passed out
from smoke inhalation.
FRANK (CONT'D)
(into walkie)
I've found the girl.
INT. WAREHOUSE OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
A HIPPIE CRASH PAD
Frank dashes into the office and heaves the conduit off the
girl. He hoists her over his shoulder and heads out.
EXT. WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Butch and Gibson exit the warehouse past the HOSE CREW
already working its way into the building.
They look up to the top of the warehouse where the LADDER is
haltingly inching its way up the side of the building.
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/6TH FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
The fire on this floor is now a raging inferno. Flames shoot
up from the stairway below through the open roof. Surrounded
by fire, Frank, carrying the girl, strides for what looks
like a WINDOW on the south side of the floor.
FRANK
(into walkie)
It's real hot in here, Billy. I'm coming
out quick.
But apprehension rips across Frank's eyes as he reaches the
window and looks down to see.
EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
The top end of the ladder FROZEN some 10 FEET BELOW THE
WINDOW. BETWEEN WALKIE-TALKIES.
ROOF MAN
I'm jammed up here, Frank!
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
FRANK
Oh mother...
EXT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Butch and Gibson are now by the base of the LADDER TRUCK
which is near the canal side of the building. Butch screams
at the ladder OPERATOR.
BUTCH
What the fuck, GINO! Tell me!
LADDER OPERATOR/GINO
Gear box cracked, Butch. We're fucked.
BUTCH
(into walkie)
Frank! Frank!
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - 6TH FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
FRANK
I know, Butch. I know.
Frank clicks off the walkie-talkie and turns to survey the
hell around him. The STAIRWAY IS GONE.
To the RIGHT is a DOOR, flames around it, but none coming
from the room beyond it.
To the LEFT, another DOOR, a metal one, this one surrounded
by fire - flames licking out all around it from room beyond.
EASY CHOICE. Frank turns, heads towards DOOR ON THE RIGHT.
No. Wait. HE STOPS. SOMETHING'S WRONG. HEART POUNDING,
LUNGS COLLAPSING, EYES & SKIN BURNING, EVERY FUCKING BRAIN
CELL SCREAMING...THINK!
WE HEAR JOHN'S WORDS ECHO IN FRANK'S HEAD:
JOHN (V.O.)
...one wrong turn...
(beat)
If you'd just gone left.
And for the first time in his life, Frank Sullivan goes
against his instincts and his training as he...
TURNS BACK AROUND AND GOES THE OTHER WAY.
INT. COP BAR - DUSK - 1998
Gordo is in the middle of a story when...
GORDO
...principal calls us in 'cause Gordy
hacked into the school system - sent out
a little X-rated e-mail.
(nervous laughter)
Scary, huh? Eight-years old.
SATCH
Just keep him away from girls.
...something happens - TIME STUTTERS AND REPEATS:
SATCH (CONT'D)
(repeat)
Just keep him away from girls.
The effect is like a phonograph needle stuck in the groove.
It lasts only a second and nobody seems to notice. Nobody
except John, who looks wildly disoriented. He grabs hold of
the edge of the table as if to keep his equilibrium.
John breaks into a cold sweat. His HEART POUNDING AWAY.
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE - DUSK - 1969
Franks reaches the door on the LEFT. White heat and flames
shoot everywhere...A FUCKING FURNACE. He tires to open it.
IT'S LOCKED! WHAM! Frank kicks at it. WHAM! WHAM! The
door blows open and flames leap out, the energy of the blast
tossing Frank and the unconscious girl back onto the floor,
fire surging over their heads. But then...
He sees something on the other side of the doorway, inside
the room, on the far wall.:
A SMALL METAL SWINGING DOOR.
INT. BUXTON WAREHOUSE/CHUTE ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Frank cradles the girl. Gets down on his knees, crawling
under the heat. Reaching the SWINGING DOOR. Pushes it open,
revealing:
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 SHIT!
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.
FRANK
It's okay, Chief.
(beat)
C'mere.
Johnny shuffles over, Frank lifts him up on his knee -
brushes the hair out of his face...and gets an idea.
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
Streetlights flood the tree-lined street. Frank & Johnny
standing next to the little red bicycle.
FRANK
Okay, partner, whatta you say we tame
this bronco.
CLOSE ON
Johnny's eyes: SHAME & FEAR - doesn't want to disappoint his
father again, but too scared to get on the bike. Frank
reaches out, holds Johnny's hand.
JOHNNY
I'm scared.
FRANK
Don't be scared. This time I'm right
behind you if you fall.
JOHNNY
Daddy, Daddy, I can't.
FRANK
No, but we can. We can do it together.
Spirit and guts, Chief.
A long beat. Johnny takes a deep breath, nods OK, slowly
getting on the bike. Frank's holding on to the seat.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Take your time. I'm not gonna let go
'til you say okay.
Johnny takes a gulp of air, starts pedaling. Slowly moving
forward. The bike picks up some speed.
FRANK (CONT'D)
You ready?
JOHNNY
Wait...
FRANK
I'm right here behind you...
Frank's still running alongside, holding on to the seat.
JOHNNY
Okay!
Frank lets go. Johnny keeps pumping those little six-year
old legs. A bit wobbly at first, but he's gonna make it. On
Johnny's eyes: determination & self-confidence.
FRANK
(clapping)
Yes! That's it! You got it, you got it!
Way to go, Chief!
JOHNNY
I'm doing it! I'm doing it!
ON FRANK'S FACE
The proud father.
FRANK
(under his breath)
Atta boy.
OVERHEAD SHOT
Johnny blissfully riding around Frank in a big gentle circle.
Frank slowly spins around keeping his eyes on his Little
Chief.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - NIGHT - 1998
John walks in the front door, takes off his coat...
The house looks different. Cleaner, furnishings less ragged.
John moves through his home, taking in the subtle changes.
He reaches the study. And there, beside the desk, is
something that makes him stop:
A PHOTOGRAPH on the wall beside the desk -- FRANK, JULIA &
FOURTEEN YEAR-OLD JOHNNY SULLIVAN.
JOHN
Oh my God...
The picture changed. John aged from 6 to 14. Julia's
hairstyle and clothes changed from 60's to 70's. Frank's
hair receded and grayed. Jon is staring at evidence of a
history that didn't exist before.
John grabs the old family scrapbook he found in Frank's
trunk. Opens it, unfolds "FIREMAN KILLED" CLIPPING.
The main headline still reads: "OCTOBER 13, 1969. AMAZIN'S
TAKE GAME 2. 2-1 LEAD. SEE SPORTS."
But the sub headline now reads: "FIREMAN RESCUES RUNAWAY FROM
INFERNO"
John turns, stares at the radio questioningly. He starts to
sit down at the desk when he spots something on the front
edge of it. WORDS CARVED INTO THE WOOD, 29 YEARS AGO by fire
fighter Frank Sullivan. The day John saved his father's
life: I'M STILL HERE CHIEF
The last letter is missing. But then a patch of wood starts
to morph - as if it were being carved by an invisible knife.
A BURST OF STATIC. RADIO CRACKLES TO LIFE.
FRANK (O.S.)
(through radio)
...can you hear me?
CUT TO:
CLOSE ON FRANK
One hand on the squawk bar, the other holds the jack-knife he
is using to finish carving the letter F.
JOHN (O.S.)
(through radio)
Dad...?
FRANK
Chief?! Is that you?
INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN
JOHN
Yeah, it's me.
FRANK
You're the voice of an angel, Johnny. If
you hadn't told me, no way I would'a ever
made it.
Frank cuts himself off in mid-sentence.
JOHN
Dad, you there? You okay?
FRANK
Yeah. I'm okay.
(beat)
What about you? I want to know. About
you. And your mom.
John hesitates for a moment. Lights up a smoke.
JOHN
We're doing all right, Dad. We're doing
good.
FRANK
Tell me.
JOHN
It's hard to explain. Something happened
today. It was like a dream. And when I
woke up I had all these new memories.
Good times. Times we never had before.
FRANK
I'm glad.
But John looks troubled. Something bothering him. He takes
a hit off his cigarette.
JOHN
Dad, I gotta tell you this...cause you
should know. Cause I still remember.
FRANK
What, Johnny? What is it?
JOHN
What it was like when you died in the
fire...
Both men are silent for some moments. The hum of static. A
breath, then --
JOHN (cont'd)
We needed you. I needed you. So many
times...I wished for you. But you
weren't there for me.
(beat)
Mom tried. But she was hurting. I used
to hear her, every night, for years,
crying herself to sleep.
Frank grips the radio mic, stunned.
FRANK
I didn't think...
The static grows. John leans into the mic
JOHN
Well, you think about it. And you
remember, cause I don't wanna lose you
again. I don't ever want Mom...
John's voice cracks, choking back the tears.
FRANK
(over static)
You won't. I swear to God you won't. I
love you, son.
A blast of static. The signal is gone. It is quiet.
John leans back. Takes a breath. Reaches out for the phone.
CLOSE ON PHONE'S THREE SPEED DIAL BUTTONS.
John HITS #3.
JULIA'S VOICE
(through answering machine)
Hi, this is Julia. Please leave a
message after the tone.
JOHN
Ma, it's me. Call me. We gotta talk.
As John slowly hangs up the phone, something catches his eye.
Something that wasn't there yesterday.
LONGBRANCH BOYS' CLUB SWIMMING TROPHY...A GREAT SUMMER.
INT. HOSPITAL - EMERGENCY ROOM - LATE NIGHT - 1969
Through several glass windows a CLOCK READS: 11:52 PM.
Julia and other medical personnel are working on a heart
attach victim and they are winning. She is in charge and she
is impressive. Cool...efficient...expert.
A sixth sense causes her to look up to see:
FRANK.
Standing behind the windows. Motionless. Gazing at his
wife.
Julia holds on him for a split second, concern and surprise
etching across her face. She turns back to her work, then
says something to another ER nurse, who nods okay. Satisfied
the patient is out of the woods, she peels off her gloves and
heads for the door.
INT. HOSPITAL - EMERGENCY ROOM/HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Julia steps through the door as Frank approaches.
JULIA
Frank...what's wrong?
FRANK
Nothing. I just wanted to see you.
He takes her in his arms, snuggling his head against her
neck, losing himself in the scent of her hair.
FRANK (cont'd)
(whisper)
I'm not goin' anywhere, Jules. For the
rest of your life.
It's hard to tell, we can't see his face, but it looks like
Frank is crying.
JULIA
Frankie, what is it?
But Frank is silent. So they just stand there, holding each
other. And then Julia notices the burn and scrape marks on
Frank's arms and neck.
JULIA (cont'd)
I got a bad feeling today...I was
worried.
FRANK
I'm here. Bruised but not broken.
Frank pulls his head back, looks into his wife's eyes and
kisses her on the mouth. It's a long kiss.
As they come up for air.
JULIA
Where's Johnny?
FRANK
I tucked him in at Gordo's.
JULIA
You give him his drops?
FRANK
One in each ear.
(beat)
What would you do without me?
JULIA
Probably marry some rich doctor and never
have to work...
Julia sees something through a glass door that stops her
short. A YOUNG INTERN is standing over a gurneyed PATIENT.
The YOUNG INTERN is changing the I.V. BAG.
JULIA (cont'd)
What's he doing? Frank, I gotta...
He knows she's back on the job. Waves "no problem."
INT. HOSPITAL EMERGENCY CUBICLE - CONTINUOUS
Julia interrupts the Young Intern as he hooks up the bag.
JULIA
Excuse me doctor, is that Benazepril?
INTERN
Yes.
Julia quickly shuts off the I.V.
JULIA
I gave this patient 50 mills of Benedryal
on admittance.
(unhooking I.V. bag)
Mix them and he's dead.
INTERN
Why wasn't I made aware?
JULIA
It's in his chart.
The intern steps back: "Oh shit." Julia takes charge.
The patient stirs: a SCRAGGLY HIPPIE, looks kind of like
Pacino in SERPICO. A breathing mask covers his bearded face.
Barely conscious, his eyes focus on Julia.
After a quick double check of the patient, Julia looks up.
Through the glass door she can see Frank watching.
FRANK
(mouthing to words)
I love you, Bud.
JULIA
(mouthing back)
I love you more.
The clock on the wall now reads: 12:01 AM.
And the LEGEND reads:
OCTOBER 13th - WORLD SERIES TRAVEL DAY
INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY - 1969
SURREAL IMAGES. SOMEONE'S POV...
MEN and WOMEN, standing and sitting, seen only from teh waist
down. All wearing dark cloths and speaking in hushed voices.
A recognizable VOICE? The edge of a CASKET? A NIGHTMARE.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BEDROOM - LATE NIGHT - 1998
John is bathed in SWEAT. He twists to CAMERA and his eyes
pop open. A glazed, confused look pours out of them.
SEE past an empty bottle of BUSHMILLS on the night stand - a
clock READS 12:01 AM.
INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY
THE NIGHTMARE REPEATS - like some horrible instant replay.
MEN and WOMEN, standing and sitting, seen only from the waist
down. All wearing dark clothes and speaking in hushed
voices. FLASHES OF FACES SWIMMING INTO THE POV...indistinct,
blurring into each other. Is that UNCLE BUTCH? SATCH?
GIBSON?
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - BEDROOM / BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER
A terrified and disoriented John stumbles out of bed. He
moves to the bathroom. But he stops. Something is wrong.
The bedroom has changed. It looks like a DUMP.
John shakes his head, trying to blink away the nightmare.
But the room does not change back. He goes to teh bathroom.
Splashes his face. He looks up to the mirror and...
INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY
The same horrible instant replay. Flashes of faces swimming
into the POV...
JOHNNY'S POV
He is CROUCHED UNDER A TABLE. STARING AT THE CASKET. Alone.
Bewildered. Crying.
A MAN, seen only from teh waist down, approaches the table.
As he crouches down his face drops into the frame. It is
FRANK. His face etched in a terrible pain.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - EARLY MORNING
The kitchen looks different: dirtier, uncared-for. John
looks different too: like a guy on the tail end of a lifetime
bender. He cracks open a Bushmills. Pours a couple of shots
into his instant coffee. Several sips to settle his nerves.
He reaches for the cordless phone and HITS SPEED DIAL #3.
CASHIER (V.O.)
Noah's Deli. Can you hold?
Confused, John clicks down the receiver. His hand is shaking
as he punches the speed dial button for the second time.
CASHIER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Noah's Deli.
On the slam of John's phone, we got to...
INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - MANHATTAN - MORNING
John knocks on the door. It opens to reveal a Jamaican woman
clutching a crying infant, a toddler hanging off her leg.
Behind them we half recognize Julia's apartment. We know
it's her apartment because of the BAY WINDOW and the view of
THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE. But everything else is
different. Different furniture. Different pain job.
John stands speechless. The Jamaican woman regards him...
JAMAICAN WOMAN
Can I help you?
JOHN
(relaxed)
I'm looking for Julia Sullivan.
JAMAICAN WOMAN
I think you have the wrong apartment.
JOHN
But this is her place. 910 Riverside.
Apartment 3C.
JAMAICAN WOMAN
I'm sorry, but no one by that name lives
here.
John just stands there, lost, questioning his grip on
reality. Liquor on his breath, fear in his eyes, he is a
scary sight. Jamaican woman does the smart thing - she slams
the door.
INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD - COFFEE ROOM - LATER
ON SATCH, scavenging the fridge while absorbed in some
papers.
Through the open door he SPOTS JOHN across the squad room.
Even at that distance, Satch can see John's unsteady walk and
fucked up demeanor. Satch's eyes go to stone.
INT. 23RD PRECINCT - MEN'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
John leans over the sink, wet paper towels pressed to his
face. He barely reacts to the SOUND of the door. He does
react to the silence that follows. Satch stands in the
doorway...looking him over.
JOHN
What?
A long silence.
SATCH
Another rough night, huh? That it?
JOHN
Yeah. That's it.
John moves for the door. But Satch grabs him, slams him
against the wall. Startled, John freezes.
SATCH
Do not disrespect me. Disrespect
yourself all you want. But not me. Or
anybody else around here. You got that?
John shrugs, sagging against the wall.
SATCH (CONT'D)
This is getting real old, John. And I'm
tired up to here with it...
JOHN
I'm sorry. I just...you know...I...
SATCH
And I'm tired of the I'm sorrys. I don't
need 'em. What I need is a partner I can
count on.
(pause; softens)
I care about you. Not cause of me and
your old man. Not cause of your mom.
But because of you.
Satch steps back. An awkward beat.
SATCH (CONT'D)
We got the preliminary forensics on that
skeleton.
(opening door to the squad)
Your gonna want to look at it.
INT. 23RD PRECINCT - DETECTIVE SQUAD ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Satch and John approach their adjoining desks. Satch slides
an 8X10 PHOTO off the top of an OLD YELLOWED POLICE FILE and
hands it to John. It is a picture of the skeleton discovered
behind the Greek Diner. But what catches John's attention,
what picks at his subconscious, is the decaying GLASS TAPE
binding the wrists.
SATCH
Bad memories...
(re: photo)
You imagine the odds...us diggin' up a
Nightingale Murder?
John looks from the photo to the file on Satch's desk. It
reads: NIGHTINGALE MURDERS. John slowly sinks into his
chair.
SATCH (CONT'D)
She makes ten.
JOHN
Ten? No. I remember this case. Three.
He killed three women.
SATCH
What're you talking'? You know better
than anybody, John. You've read this
file a thousand times.
John fixes on the file. Then slowly reaches for it. It's
filled with police and forensics reports. And PHOTOS. Crime
scene shots of 9 DEAD WOMEN. Linked by TWO gruesome details -
they were all GARROTED, wrists bound with GLASS TAPE.
John turns over the last PHOTO and his heart stops...his
universe crashing down on him.
CLOSE ON THAT PHOTOGRAPH: A MURDER VICTIM. GARROTED. GLASS
TAPED WRISTS. JULIA SULLIVAN.
JOHN
No.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - JOHNNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT - 1969
Julia is at the door watching Frank tuck Johnny in. Johnny
wears his Mets' cap and cradles his baseball glove. He's in
that exhausted/excited kid moment before sleep sets in.
FRANK & JOHNNY
(very soft)
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack...I
don't care if I never get back...
Johnny's eyes close.
JULIA
Boy is he excited about the game
tomorrow.
FRANK
He ain't the only one.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - LATER
Marvin Gaye plays from the HI-FI. Frank grabs a beer, as
Julia comes in -- putting on her coat while taking her keys
from a hook. She's wearing her nurse's uniform.
JULIA
I'm off.
FRANK
(turning to her)
Wish you weren't.
JULIA
(stepping to him)
Do you know how much I love you?
Frank takes her in his arms. Starts to move her to the
music.
FRANK
Yeah, actually I do.
They kiss. And dance. And kiss. And dance. He starts to
slip her coat off. She laughs and wriggles away from him.
Naughty boy. And she is out the door.
EXT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - NIGHT - 1998
John pulls in past SAMANTHA'S CAR as she comes out the back
door with the Teddy Bear and other stuff she left behind.
John gets out of his car, clutching the 'Nightingale' file.
his eyes are red, swollen by tears and booze.
SAMANTHA
John, are you all right?
The answer is no. He looks terrible, as haunted as any man
could possibly be. He doesn't mean to, but he snaps --
JOHN
What are you doing here?
Samantha jumps, frightened.
SAMANTHA
Ellen said you were working. I just
wanted to pick up the rest...
John turns, lost and ashamed. Sam walks to her car and
starts to cry.
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS
John enters, plunks the Nightingale file on the desk.; He
stares at the FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH on the wall.
JULIA IS MISSING. A look of loss in Frank and John's faces.
John fingers the Nightingale file. A nightmare.
He hits the ANSWERING MACHINE BUTTON to hear Samantha's
halting message. As that plays...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
John steps to teh counter and pours himself a stiff
Bushmills. Turns and steps back into...
INT. SULLIVAN HOUSE - STUDY - CONTINUOUS
John collapses in the chair. Stares at the words carved in
the desk - I'M STILL HERE CHIEF. He rubs his fingers over
the smooth carving...his eyes going to the radio.
A quiet moment. John slowly puts his hand on the squawk,
leans into the mic...
JOHN
Dad, you there? Can you here me?
(silence)
Dad? I need you to be there.
A long beat. The hum of static. And then...
FRANK (O.S.)
(through radio)
Right here, Chief. Sorry I lost you last
night. Damn thing keeps cutting out.
JOHN
Dad...Dad... There's... I need to...
INTERCUT FRANK AND JOHN.
FRANK
Are you alright"?
JOHN
(sipping Bushmills)
Something happened, something...
FRANK
What? Johnny, what's wrong?
JOHN
It's Mom.
FRANK
What? What is it?
JOHN
She's not here.
FRANK
Whatta you mean she's not here?
JOHN
She...she died. It's like it just
happened.
FRANK
She just died, your mother just died?
JOHN
No Dad, it happened a long time ago, a
long time ago for me.
A dreadful moment of silence.
FRANK
When?
JOHN
October 22, 1969.
FRANK
Jesus Christ...that's...ten days from
now.
(beat)
How?
Silence.
FRANK (CONT'D)
Johnny, I gotta know.
Long beat. You could hear a fuckin' pin drop.
JOHN
She was murdered.
Eerie silence as John's words hang in the air.
FRANK
Murdered? Why?
JOHN
There was this case. A serial. He
murdered three women, all nurses, between
'68 and '69. The papers called them the
Nightingale Murders. They never caught
him. But the killings just stopped.
FRANK
What kinda twisted animal.
JOHN
Dad, we did something. Something to make
it worse.
FRANK
Whatta you mean...
JOHN
He didn't just kill three women anymore.
He killed ten.
FRANK
What are you talking about?
JOHN
Something we did changed the
case...changed history.
(beat)
Mom wasn't dead. But then after you
didn't die in the fire something must
have happened. And this guy, this
Nightingale guy, he kept on killing...it
was like a spree...seven more women.
FRANK
I gotta take her away, John. I'm gonna
take your mother away. He can't hurt her
if I take her away.
JOHN
I don't know...
(beat)
What about the other women?
FRANK
I'll warn them.
JOHN
That'll never work. They'll just think
you're crazy.
FRANK
What can we do? You don't even know who
this guy is.
JOHN
No. Nobody got...
(realizing)
Wait a minute. I might not know who he
is, but I know where he's gonna be. I
got the case file. We know what he's
gonna do before he does it.
FRANK
So what should I do? Call the police?
You think they'll believe me?
JOHN
They will if they catch him in the act.
You can make that happen, Dad. You can
tail the victim and call it in at just
the right moment.
FRANK
I don't know, John. I'm a fire fighter.
This is...this is different.
JOHN
I do know. I'm a cop. This is what I
do.
John takes a long sip from the Bushmills.
JOHN (CONT'D)
You ever talk to a victim's family? The
one's left behind? They don't act like
what you'd think. There's panic and
fear. But mostly, it's like there's this
logic problem. And if they could only
solve it, everything would be okay.
(a breath)
But if you look real close - look at
their eyes - you can see it. Just a
glimmer. But somewhere they know. They
know their world is never gonna be the
same.
FRANK