12 Monkeys Page #7

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COLE:

1995?

RAILLY:

You think it's July of 1995? That's

the future, James. Do you think you're

living in the future?

COLE:

(slightly confused)

No, 1995 is the past.

RAILLY:

1995 is the future, James. This is 1989.

COLE looks stunned.

INT. POLICE STATION CORRIDOR - MORNING

COLE, bound tightly by the strait-jacket, heavy manacles on his

ankles, is being escorted down the corridor by two surly POLICEMEN.

COLE:

Where are you taking me?

POLICEMAN #1

South of France, buddy. Fancy hotel.

You're gonna love it.

COLE:

South of France?! I don't want to go

to the South of France. I want to make

a telephone call.

POLICEMAN #2 smirks as he unlocks a heavy steel door.

POLICEMAN #2

Zip it, scumbag -- you fooled the shrink

with your act, but you don't fool us.

Then, POLICEMAN #2 swings the steel door open and sunlight

overwhelms COLE, blinding him in a dazzling fury of white light.

EXT. CITY STREET/MINI-VAN - DAY

A Mini-van, the kind of vehicle used to transport a half dozen

prisoners, crawls through a busy street. The Police Department

logo is prominent on the side of the van beneath barred windows.

INT. COUNTY HOSPITAL/SHOWERS - AN HOUR LATER (MORNING)

Fierce spray recalls the decontamination in the future. COLE

stands stark naked under the shower while two muscular attendants,

PALMER and BILLINGS, supervise.

As PALMER shuts off the water, BILLINGS hands COLE a towel and

starts inspecting his scalp...

BILLINGS:

Lemme see your head, Jimbo, see if you

got any creepy crawlies.

COLE:

I need to make a telephone call.

BILLINGS:

(pulling Cole's head)

Gotta work that out with a doctor, Jimbo.

Can't make no calls 'til the doctor says.

COLE:

It's very important.

BILLINGS:

What chew gotta do, Jimbo, is take it

easy, relax into things. We all gonna

get along fine if you just relax.

COLE gets the hint of menace in the message and submits to the

lice inspection, only his eyes revealing his frustration.

INT. HOSPITAL/DAYROOM - HALF AN HOUR LATER (DAY)

COLE stands in the doorway, stunned by his first sight of the

large room. His eyes go to the heavily-grilled windows where

light pours in from outside. Then, to the TV, where a CARTOON

COMMERCIAL makes raucous noises.

PATIENTS, in K-Mart street clothes or ratty robes, stare gloomily

at the TV, or play cards, pace, or just stare blankly.

BILLINGS is at COLE'S side, beckoning to a patient, JEFFREY MASON,

a twenty year old white youth dressed in khakis and a plaid shirt.

BILLINGS:

Jeffrey. Yo! Jeffrey. This here is James.

Whyncha show James around? Tell him the TV

rules, show him the games an' stuff, okay?

JEFFREY:

(with a sly look)

How much you gonna pay me? Huh? I'd

be doing your job.

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