Good Blood Bad Blood

CUT TO:

INT. THE EMERGENCY ROOM -- MOMENTS LATER

PAUL enters from his sleeping office as the wail of the siren dies outside. He snaps on his gloves as two husky, nervous looking young men wheel in Isabel. The three of them transfer Isabel to the examination table and the attendants leave to fill out their paper work and flirt with the night nurse until they receive another call.

A twelve-year veteran of emergency, ROSALIE moves about the patient swiftly and efficiently. She hooks Isabel up to the monitors and begins cleaning the blood from her face. She's seen many patients over the years. Some had lived, some had not. She looks up from the girl to the monitors and shakes her head sadly.

ROSALIE:

She's so young.

PAUL bends over the girl and begins his examination.

PAUL:

Christ! She's nearly frozen.

Immediately alarms sound.

PAUL:

(Yelling)

Get some help in here!

ROSALIE:

Blood pressure's dropping.

Other attendants hurry into the room.

PAUL:

We need an IV now!

She flatlines.

ROSALIE:

It's gone.

PAUL:

Paddles!

He applies them once with no results.

PAUL:

(bending over Isabel)

Don't you leave me!

Applies them again. Still no result.

PAUL:

Not this time, goddamn it.

Applies the paddles again. After a moment her heart begins beating again.

ROSALIE:

We've got a heartbeat. Erratic but it's beating.

Everyone struggles to stabilize her.

PAUL:

(to Isabel)

Not this time.

CUT TO:

INT. ISABEL'S HOSPITAL ROOM -- THE NEXT MORNING

ISABEL watches groggily as PAUL rehangs her chart on the foot of her bed. Her body begins to shake uncontrollably. A wrenching moan rises from deep inside her.

PAUL moves quickly to her side and lays a soothing hand on her shoulder.

PAUL:

(gently)

It's all right. You're safe here. No one can harm you.

The shaking subsides. Her lips quiver as she tries to work her mouth. PAUL shakes his head and places a gentle finger on her lips.

PAUL:

Not now. Wait until you're stronger.

Her head lolls back and forth. It takes him a moment to realize she is shaking her head. Her left arm drifts up and her bruised and bandaged hand closes desperately about his biceps. She draws him closer more with her will than the feeble pull on his arm. With a final mustering of strength she raises her head from the pillow.

ISABEL:

(in a hoarse whisper)

You....

She collapses back onto the bed, spent. PAUL caresses her head gently.

PAUL:

I know. I know. It's all right, now. You're going to be all right.

(looks at the monitors. Softly, to himself)

I hope.

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