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.

Rate this script:(0.00 / 0 votes)