Bringing Out the Dead Page #5

Larry and Frank slow at the last Skid Row stretchers. On

one, NOEL, a young dark-skinned man with chaotic mess of

dreadlocks, pulls feverishly at his restraints:

NOEL:

For God's sake, give me some water.

From the next stretcher a man with feet swollen purple like

prize eggplants replies:

BIG FEET:

Shut up! Goddamn civilians.

NOEL:

Give me some water!

NURSE CRUPP stops Frank and Larry as they approach the

Critical care room. inside, the staff appears as if under

siege by a battalion of shriveled men and women lying on a

field of white sheets.

NURSE CRUPP:

Don't take another step. We're on

diversion. Can't accept any more

patients. Your dispatcher should

have told you.

FRANK:

We got him at Eighteen and Second.

You're closest.

NURSE CRUPP:

Where will I put him, Frank? Look.

Tell me.

FRANK:

He wanted to come here. Said the

nurses at Misery were the best.

NURSE CRUPP:

(acquiesces)

All right, give me a minute. I'll

kick someone out of slot three.

Larry unravels himself from the IV lines as nurse walks over,

takes Burke's pulse.

NOEL:

(to Frank)

Excuse me. You are a very kind man.

I can see that. A man like you could

not refuse a poor sick dying helpless

man a small cup of water.

FRANK:

I can't. I have to stay with my

patient.

BIG FEET:

Shut the f*** up! If it wasn't for

these dun feet I'd get up and kick

your ass!

DR. HAZMAT, 30, steps over.

HAZMAT:

Godammit, guys, what are you doing

to me? We're all backed up in here.

Christ, would you look at him? He's

gonna need the works. What's wrong

with him?

LARRY:

You should know. You pronounced him.

HAZMAT:

You told me he was dead. Flatline.

FRANK:

He got better.

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