Message-Id: <9305191538.AA02792@hardrock>
Sender: mav@hardrock-e1
Date: Wed, 19 May 1993 08:39:49 -0800
To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com
From: mav@isi.com
Subject: And A Child Shall Lead Them, Teaser


Introduction:

Good morning. This is my first post on ql.creative. And the first
time one of my scripts will see the light of day. After numerous
tries at getting just one of my ideas looked at by 'the powers that
be' in the QL office, and literally years of trying to accomodate
the endless rules required for submission (*that's* a story by
itself), I finally threw up my hands. Not wanting good ideas to go
to waste :), I polled friends ("What do you want to see in a QL
episode?") and combined three script ideas to come up with what I
like to call "The Kitchen Sink" episode. It's mushy and pat; 
definitely NOT a Bellisario-type script. (OK, he does like mushy,
but not pat.) However, I enjoyed putting it together and wanted to 
share it with some other QL friends who might have the same inclination 
of thought. I wrote this in August '92 with minor updates in December.
Also remember that this is a script, thus in present tense. Enjoy.

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        "...And A Child Shall Lead Them - February 20, 1984"

                        by Christina Mavroudis, 1992

TEASER

FADE IN:

INT. HOSPITAL BEDROOM - DAY

LEAP IN - A chaotic blur of blue stabilizes into the form of Sam Beckett
stretched out in a hospital bed. Strings of tubing splay out from his arms,
and nose. Sunlight, desperately peeking through the curtains, glances off
an EKG machine and plasma pole.  There is an empty bed next to him. Sam
blinks at the silhouette beside his bed which is producing sobs. A face
dips in front of the light, and he is able to make out the features of a
young woman, Rebecca Kaufman, gently crying, her mascara running. She is
young, with her hair coifed in mid-80's style. Next to her is her husband
Merl Kaufman, a man scared of his own son and oblivious to his wife's
grief. He stares down at Sam - aware of only his own inner turmoil.  Both
adults are swathed in protective gear: masks, gowns, gloves. 

MERL
		Don't worry, Ray. Your mother and I will try to be here...
(under his breath)
		Until the end.

He looks away suddenly and Sam realizes they're grieving for him - the
person he leaped into is going to die.  Sam is momentarily at a loss for
words.

SAM
		Thanks...Dad?

A sudden commotion at the door reveals a middle-aged specialist, Dr. Saul,
chart in hand, breezing to the bed.  He has a mask, gloves and other
protective garments on.

DR. SAUL
		Good morning, Raymond. I'm here to talk to your folks. 
		You just rest and we'll be right back. Mr. and Mrs. Kaufman?

He deposits the chart at the foot of the bed and motions for them to follow
him near the door. They talk in soft voices. Rebecca slowly gets emotional,
unable to stand and leans against her husband. Merl is stiff and doesn't
even put his hand around her.  Sam's curiosity is sparked and he carefully
inches his way to the foot of the bed, careful of the tubes,  to grab the
chart.  As he reads, he finds it difficult not to become emotional. It says
he is in the last stages of pneumonia brought on by AIDS. 

SAM
		AIDS.

He reads the top portion: "Name: Raymond Kaufman. DOB: 11/1/76. MR #121760.
 Doctor: Saul."  When he catches his reflection in the polished machinery,
he inhales sharply. 

SAM'S POV - MIRROR IMAGE

Gazing back is the sad, sickly face of small child approx. 8 years old.
Either in sympathy or caught up in the drama around him, Sam's eyes tear.

SAM
(softly)
		Oh, God.


*END TEASER*

(ACT I to follow)

--------------------------------------------------
Christina Mavroudis
Integrated Systems, Inc.