Teaser
Act
One
Act
Two
Act
Three
Act
Four
QUANTUM LEAP
A FINAL NOBLE ACT
MAY 16, 1974
WRITTEN
BY
KELLEY MILES
EXEC. PRODUCER: Donald P.Bellisario
SUPV. PRODUCER: Deborah Pratt
PRODUCER: Harker Wade
CO-PRODUCERS: Paul Brown, Jeff Gourson, Chris Ruppenthal
QUANTUM LEAP
A FINAL NOBLE ACT
MAY 16, 1974
TEASER
FADE IN
QUANTUM LEAP TO
INT. OFFICE — DAY
As the dazzling flash of quantum—blue corona wanes from around Sam, he finds himself
seated in a wheelchair, head down, hands limply settled in his lap. He regards the metal
chair with a frown, and looks up to see ROSALIND HAWKINS, a meticulously groomed woman in
her late forties sitting opposite him behind a wide desk. Her thin, carefully outlined
lips arc up slightly at the edges in a practiced smile that contradicts the cold
impatience in her eyes. Sam follows her gaze to his right. A pretty dark—haired woman
of 37, RACHEL BURKOWITZ, sits in a chair next to him, rifling through her over—sized
shoulder bag, searching for something. Sam quietly observes the two women, who completely
ignore his presence --
RACHEL
I’m sorry Mrs. Hawkins... I know it’s in
here somewhere. I had it in my hand this
morning. I put an apple in David’s lunch,
a box of raisins into Karen’s, and the
envelope into my bag...
(she pulls out a box of raisins)
Oh.
ROSALIND
We aren’t very organized are we?
RACHEL
Morning’s are kinda hectic.
(she looks at her watch, a beat)
I don’t have time to... Look, maybe I can
come by after work. I can get the kids by,
um... six—fifteen and... lets see...
ROSALIND
Rachel, dear. If your daughter hasn’t
managed to eat it, why don’t you just bring
the pink slip in tomorrow morning?
RACHEL
(opens raisin box)
Is that okay? I mean. I know I’m already a
month behind on the bills here... God, I’m
a month behind on the bills everywhere.
(eats a few raisins)
You know, ever since mama’s trust ran out,
I can’t even seem to find the ends, let
alone make them meet.
ROSALIND
Yes, well.., tomorrow is fine. Perhaps
even better, actually. My son, Robert,
will be here in the morning, and I believe
that he will be able to explain just how
simple and advantageous a transfer of
assets will be.
Something about Rosalind strikes an off—note in Sam’s head. He shifts dubiously
in the restrictive chair -- Something feels quite uncomfortable -- he looks down, squirms
a bit -- Rachel instinctively reaches out and pats him like a child. She fingers out a few
raisins -- pops them in her mouth --
RACHEL
Rosalind. I want you to know that I really
appreciate your taking daddy’s car as
payment for a few months residency, but...
Sam shifts again -- rests his chin in hand and narrows his eyes in analysis of the
conversation -- he clears his throat. Rachel distractedly shakes out a few more raisins
and offers them to him -—
RACHEL
Here, daddy. You want some raisins?
SAM
(puts up a hand)
Oh... no, thank—you.
RACHEL
(back to Rosalind)
But his house... life insurance... I just
don’t know. I need to think about...
(turns suddenly to Sam)
Daddy! You talked!
Sam looks from Rachel’s surprised expression to Rosalind’S.
He smiles tentatively, nods --
SAM
Uh... yeah. Yeah, I did.
An astonished, excited smile breaks across Rachel’s face — she turns to
Rosalind, whose smile has waned and cracked --
RACHEL
Rosalind! He talked!
(back to Sam)
Daddy! Say something else!
ROSALIND
Yes, Mr. Burkowitz... do.
Both women look at him expectantly — Rachel with elation, Rosalind with suspicion. He
looks from one to the other, smiles again, sheepishly -- he doesn’t know who he is,
who they are, or what he ought to say --
SAM
Uhhhh...
The anticipation in the room thickens --
SAM
Ummmm ...
Sam’s really having trouble — he’s gone mute under pressure. He catches a
glimpse of himself in the veined mirrored wall to his left -- A gaunt, withered old man
with heavy lidded eyes, untrimmed moustache, and a wild shock of snow—white hair
reflects back at him --
RACHEL
Daddy? Daddy, please say something...
SAM
Oh, boy.
END OF TEASER
ACT
ONE
FADE IN
EXT. HAWKIN’S HOME — ESTABLISHING — DAY
Set back from a wide Boulevard behind a rod—iron—topped
plaster wall and a narrow strip of grass, is the long, low, adobe—style front of the
residential attendant care facility. Barred windows run the length of the building on
either side of the iron—gated, covered entry court. A sign above the gate reads:
HAWKINS HOME FOR SENIOR CITIZENS.
INT. HAWKIN’S HOME — SAM’S ROOM — DAY
Sheer curtains ruffle gently in the spring breeze that drifts in through the open, barred
window. CAMERA pans the room -— it is clean, simply decorated and furnished. FRAMED
PHOTOGRAPHS sit on a desktop: one of Rachel with her kids; another of an elderly woman
with gentle, smiling eyes. The door swings open and a big, muscular ORDERLY pushes SAM
roughly through in his wheelchair, banging his legs against the door. RACHEL follows right
behind.
RACHEL
Thank—you Victor...
SAM
(with a look)
Yeah... thanks alot Victor.
Victor grunts indifferently,
parks Sam next to the railed, hospital—type bed and moves around in front of him --
he reaches an arm under Sam’s derriere to pluck him up --
SAM
Whoa! What are you doing? Get outta there!
VICTOR
It's time to put you in bed.
SAM
What are you, my mother? I don’t want to go to bed.
VICTOR
(annoyed)
Yeah well, It’s almost nappie time.
SAM
(incredulously)
Nappie time? ... But Victor, I’m not sweepie yet.
VICTOR
Look old man... I don’t have time for...
RACHEL
Please, just give us a few minutes...
VICTOR
(a beat, then acquiescing)
I liked him alot better when he just sat there and drooled. Freakin’ old people.
Victor shakes his head as he
saunters out. Sam’s eye is caught by the old man with the wild white hair that looks
back at him from the full—length mirror on the closet door opposite him --
SAM
I look like Albert Einstein.
Rachel smiles, sets down her
purse and sits on the bed in front of him. She takes one of his hands in hers, and looks
into his eyes intently. Tears fill and threaten to fall.
RACHEL
Daddy. I cant believe it. I’m so glad you’re back with me. I’ve missed you
so much.
(Sam pats her hands and returns a warm squeeze --
SAM
I’ve.. .uh. . . missed you too, Rachel.
RACHEL
The doctors all told me you’d never get
better... only worse. And then when you
stopped talking and...
(she chokes up)
you couldn’t even remember me...
SAM
(to himself)
Alzheimer’s. Terrific.
Rachel checks her watch, reacts torn --
RACHEL
(sniffs, wipes her eyes)
Twelve—forty. Darn. I’m late. Daddy I
have to get back to work.. I wish I could
stay with you... but Karen had another ear
infection and I stayed home with her on
Monday... if I miss any more...
SAM
No, no... that’s alright, you go on.
RACHEL
Are you sure?
SAM
(pats her, smiles)
I’m sure.
Rachel gets up, looks at him.
She leans down and kisses him on the forehead.
RACHEL
I’ll be back tomorrow.
(a beat, then whispers)
Please stay here.
SAM
(indicates wheel chair)
Well, I was thinking of making a break for
it, but I don’t think I’d get too far in
this thing.
RACHEL
(a smile)
Oh, daddy.
Rachel grabs her purse and heads
for the open hall door --just as BURT CROSSMAN, a 72 year old WWII Navy Veteran, pokes his
head into the room. He wears thick glasses, his service ribbons and decorations unevenly
pinned to his polo shirt, and a Navy garrison cap is perched on his balding head. He raps
on the door frame--
BURT
I heard it, but I didn’t believe it...
Noble Burkowitz is back in action.
Sam turns the wheelchair to
-face him -- Rachel flashes Burt a wide, happy smile --
RACHEL
Hi Burt...
(throws Sam a kiss)
See ya tomorrow, daddy... I love you.
She heads out past Burt. as
JULIET, a corpulent NURSE in starched whites appears in the hallway. She is accompanied by
VICTOR, who pushes a metal cart. He glances in at Sam. Juliet knocks on the door across
the hall. Burt crosses his arms and leans against the door frame eyeing Sam --
BURT
I knew those doctors were full of horse
patuti. Irreversible Senile Dementia, my
foot. Not Noble Burkowitz. No sirree.
At the door across the hall,
Juliet knocks again, calling out cheerfully in a BRITISH ACCENT --
JULIET
Mrs.. Davison... It’s nappie time.
A small voice from behind the closed door replies --
MRS. DAVISON
No! Go away! Leave me alone!
As Juliet opens the door, Victor
looks again into Sam’s room, makes eye contact, and smiles obnoxiously -- Sam
responds with a glare --
SAM
(a beat, then lowers his voice)
Uh... Burt. Come in here a minute, I want
to ask you something... close the door.
Burt reacts to Sam’s
secretiveness with an almost boyish delight. He throws a derisive look to Victor, then
moves through the doorway. As he shuts the door behind him, we, hear whimpering cries of
feeble defiance from across the hall. Burt looks at Sam and shakes his head --
BURT
Poor little Gracie. You know her boy is
trying to get her moved to that awful
Golden Years place... but that isn’t a
home, it’s a croaker—joint. Lucky for her,
her lawyer’s against it.
(a beat, then)
Okay. So, what?
SAM
Oh.... I was just wondering.., how long have
I been, uh, you know... out of touch?
BURT
(shuffling into the room)
Well, now, Noble... let me see... YOU and
Libby came here in the Fall of... ‘72..
Yeah. A few months after Claire went...
SAM
Claire....
BURT
Claire... your wife Claire. Boy, you
sincerely got wormholes in the old helmet,
don’t ya?
SAM
If you only knew.
BURT
Anyway, it was right after that Christmas
when YOU really, started to go a.w.o.l... so
it’s been...
OBSERVER
Sixteen months, one week, five days, twelve
hours, and... uh... forty—two minutes.
Sam turns his head to see Al,
computer in hand, standing behind him on the other side of the bed.
BURT
...almost a year and a half, I guess.
Everybody around here just about gave up on
you. 'Cept me and Libby, of course.
Burt makes it to the bed and
sits slowly and deliberately, as if having to mentally coax his bones into yielding to
another position.
BURT
Yeah. We all thought you was going the way
of that crazy Alice Wheaton. You remember
Alice... well, she finally died. So did
Saul Goldstein. And Billy Speigel. That
rat still owed me for poker night, too.
(shakes his head)
Thirty—eight dollars and change... Thirty—
eight buckaroos.
(sighs, then)
Marion Flaherty is gone... well, not gone
gone, but she had a stroke and ended up
as—good—as in County.
(indicates room across hall)
That’s when Gracie started putting all her
clothes on inside out. Says the seams itch.
(considers)
But I can understand that.
(a beat, then)
Oh... and Mary kissed Kojak in the TV room
a couple weeks ago... broke her arm. Broke
the TV too. But they’re both fixed up now.
So let’s see, what else have you missed...
Sam is nonplussed by this blithe
newsy stream of grim chit-chat. He looks at Al who is watching Burt with a kind of
bug—in—a—jar fascination.
BURT
Oh, yeah... we got this cute little girlie
volunteer who comes in a couple times a
week now.. . Diane. Di—anne. The women love her. She teaches crafts and exercise,
brings in little kitties to pet and stuff.
By the way... I think she likes you.
Al has walked over closer to
Sam. He gets his first good look, does a double take, and --
OBSERVER
You look like Albert Einstein.
SAM
I know.
BURT
Ahhh... so you do remember some things.
(elbows the air)
like the stone foxes, huh? That’s what
the kids say nowadays... stone foxes.
(likes the sound)
Stone foxes.
SAM
Yeah, well... uh, Burt... what about this
Hawkins woman...
BURT
That witch? We should organize a mutiny.
She came outta nowhere when the place was
in trouble and just took over.
(reflectively)
She does run a tight ship, though. Cleaned
the place up spic—and—span, stem to stern.
Hired a real fine cook, too. But then she
made up a bunch of new rules and raised the
keep. Now were stuck with her, but good.
OBSERVER
(punching computer buttons)
Sam, ask him about his social security
checks, uh... his navy pension, stuff like
that.
SAM
Why?
BURT
Why? Because she owns most of us here.
She and that slick lawyer son of hers.
SAM
She owns you?
BURT
Lock, stock and barrel. All except you and
Gracie and a couple others. Course
Gracie’s boy could buy and sell Hawkins a
hundred times before sunset.
(confidentially)
It’s really Gracie’s money, you know...
every red cent.
They all look up at a sharp
rapping at the door.
JULIET
(o.s., sing—song)
Mr. Burk—o—witz...
The door opens and JULIET
hustles in, followed by VICTOR with the cart. She makes a beeline for Same chirping --
JULIET
Nappie time. Mr. Burkowitz!
With an deferential look to Sam,
Burt rises as expeditiously as possible, and hobbles toward the door -- Juliet lowers one
of the arms of Sam’s wheelchair and Victor moves to slide an arm under him to pick
him up --
SAM
(pushing Victor back)
I told you before not to do that... Burt.
wait a minute... where are you going?
VICTOR
I told you he was gonna be alot more
trouble now.
BURT
I'll see ya later, Noble.
Without looking back, Burt
leaves the room. Juliet bends down to open the two metal doors on the cart, and starts
pulling items from the interior shelves -- a washcloth, water pan, disposable rubber
gloves, a tall, round container --
JULIET
It’s ever so nice to have you feeling so
well, Mr. Burkowitz. I must say, I’ve
never seen quite such a remarkable
recovery.
(she stands, and looks at Sam)
Now then. YOU be a good boy and let Victor
lift you into the bed.
SAM
Wait a minute... you people don’t seem to
understand... I don’t need a nap. I'm not
sleepy. I’m not even tired.
Juliet smiles cheerfully, bends
down and pulls out the final item -- she turns and holds up a white, plastic coated,
enormously oversized, disposable -- diaper.
JULIET
Nappie time!
Sam's jaw drops with
realization. Mortified, he looks at Al, who averts his eyes quickly, stifles a snicker,
and scratches his head. Victor picks Sam up out of the chair --
SAM
(helplessly)
Al...
Al looks at Sam. starts to say
something, wrestles with the words a moment and throws up his arms in defeat --
OBSERVER
(punching a button)
Uh... I think I’m... going to pass on this
particular event.
The eerily luminous doorway to
the Quantum Leap Laboratory opens up behind him -- he steps into the brightness and --
OBSERVER
..... let me know how everything comes out.
Sam shoots Al an insufferable
look -- and with a contrite, amused shrug, Al presses a button and disappears. Victor
lowers Sam onto the bed. Juliet smiles toward him with the diaper... reaching out-- CAMERA
pulls in tight on Sam’s face as he prepares himself for quite possibly the most
exquisite humiliation of his life. With the unmistakable ripping sound of a zipper
opening, WE GO BLACK AND --
SAM
Oh... God
CUT TO:
INT. HAWKINS HOME — TV ROOM
— DAY
MARY HILLYER. a sprightly 64. her left arm in a cast, leans forward on the worn couch,
eyes glued to the TV set. Next to her is 76 year old, queen—size JEWEL JOLIVET. whose
attention is split between the Soap Opera and a candy bar, which she covertly tucks into
the voluminous material of her dress between bites. An old black man named JACK sits
passively on a folding chair in a patch of sunlight, staring out unblinking through the
double screen doors that lead to the back patio and lawn. Directly across, in a tattered,
stuffed chair by the window, ATHERTON THOMAS, 76, eyeglasses perched low on his nose,
reads a newspaper held at arms length.
MARY
(loudly, to the TV)
Don’t do it Suzanne! Tell him no!
Atherton looks up at her with
irritation, then goes back to his paper.
MARY
He’s going to kiss her...
(thrilled, nudges Jewel)
Oh, Jewel... I can see his tongue!
ATHERTON
Mary, do you mind... I’m reading here.
JEWEL
This is the TV room. Atherton. Turn down
your hearing aid, or go read somewhere
else.
MARY
Look at that! Look at that! Ooooh... that
Preston. He’s such a hunk.
(lowers her voice)
But he screws around, you know.
ATHERTON
Mary... shut up.
MARY
You can’t make me.
ATHERTON
Can too.
MARY
You just try... Donald will sock you right
in the nose!
ATHERTON
Donald can’t sock anybody in the nose...
because Donald’s not a real person.
MARY
He is so!
ATHERTON
Is not.
JEWEL
Oh, Atherton... act your age!
ATHERTON
Me? What about her?
JEWEL
She’s older than you.
BURT
Hey, everybody! Look here! Got a surprise!
All but JACK turn to see BURT,
who has struck a stance in the doorway. He grins broadly at them, and swings his arm wide
like Ed Sullivan introducing his next act -- they wait --
ATHERTON
Is that it, or is there more?
BURT
Uh. . . Just a second...
He pokes his head around the
doorway and whispers loudly --
BURT
Come on, Noble... everybody’s waiting!
Sam ambles around the corner,
cane in hand, on his new, albeit old legs --
BURT
Ta—da!
JEWEL
Noble! He’s walking.
ATHERTON
I knew he was walking.
JEWEL
Did not.
ATHERTON
Did too.
MARY
(a beat, then)
So where’s my surprise?
Burt rolls his eyes.
BURT
That... was it, Mary.
Mary sighs and turns back to her
show, Atherton to his paper.
BURT
Well... I’ve got a game of horseshoes going
out back with Hector...
(To Sam)
You come on out if you feel up to it.
As Burt heads to the double
screen doors, Jewel pats the narrow gap of couch between herself and Mary --
JEWEL
Come sit with us, Noble. Days Of Our Lives
is on.
SAM
Oh...uh... no.. thanks, I...
BURT
Hi, Libby! Here, I’ll hold em for you...
Sam turns toward the screen
doors -- Burt has paused to hold them open for LIBBY WILDE -- still striking at 72, she
approaches carrying a shopping bag and holding the hand of a SMALL BOY, about six years
old. She smiles a thank—you to Burt, the boy tugs at her, and rummages in a pocket --
BOY
Oh... I got something for you, Great—Gramma.
Libby releases his hand, smiling
at him as he digs deeper-- he pulls out two bronze coins. He gives them to her with a big
grin --
LIBBY
Well, what are these?
BOY
Good luck things. Mama had ‘em.
Libby smiles and takes them. She
looks up to Burt, laughs softly then glances inside -- She stops. Her hand flies
spontaneously to her heart --
LIBBY
(a gasp)
Noble. .
BURT
Oh, yeah... surprise, Libby!
For a long moment she just
stares in at Sam. Then she takes the screen from Burt, who shrugs and walks away. She
turns to the Boy --
LIBBY
Thank—you for walking me in, Joshua. Run
back to the car now -- kiss your mama bye—
bye for me.
JOSHUA
Okay. I love you...
She bends down and kisses him,
and pats his bottom as he runs off. Then she turns, and steps into the room. Her clear
blue eyes fill with disbelief --
LIBBY
Noble...
SAM
Uh... hi Libby.
A small, soft, smile warms her
face. She moves forward and stops in front of him, eyes shimmering with wonder -- and
takes his hand. She searches his eyes-- Suddenly her smile falters. Her brow knits. The
sparkle fades. She cocks her head to one side, drops his hand and narrows her eyes --
LIBBY
... Who are you?
Sam is jolted-- where’d
that come from? Is it supernatural perception or just vintage memorex?
SAM
I’m Noble...
LIBBY
(withdraws, frowning)
I've known Noble for forty—six years. And
you are not Noble.
SAM
(trying to joke out of it)
Okay, okay... so I’m only landed gentry...
LIBBY
You’re not very funny, either.
And with a wary look, she moves past him --
CUT TO:
EXT. HAWKIN’S HOME —
PATIO — DAY
Sam exits through the screen doors, walking around the tables and chairs where senior
citizens sit in the shade of the covered patio. An old man sleeps, an old woman hums as
she works on a needlepoint. Sam becomes aware of an ancient woman who watches him intently
from her wheelchair. More out of discomfort than anything, Sam smiles at her as he passes
--
SAM
Hi, how are you doing?
Instantly her eyes twinkle and
she smiles up at him --
ANCIENT WOMAN
(happily, decidedly)
I’m doin’ poorly. How ‘bout yerself.
SAM
(laughs)
Well.. - I guess I’m doing a little poorly,
too. I’m not used to being this old.
ANCIENT WOMAN
I know what ya means, I surely do. I been
old for more’n twenty years now. And I’m
still not use’ta it.
An ATTENDANT exits from the
building, crossing to the Woman --
ATTENDANT
It’s time for your medicine. Annie.
The Attendant pushes back the
wheel lock levers, grabs the chair handles -- Annie looks past Sam, over his shoulder --
ANCIENT WOMAN
I think your friends wavin’ at ya.
Sam glances toward the yard and
reacts to AL, who stands nearby, waiting patiently. He turns back to the woman --
SAM
YOU can see him?
ANCIENT WOMAN
‘Course I kin see him. I aint blind, ya
know. I set right here an' watch 'em play
horseshoe near every day. Most borin’ game
I ever seen.
Sam looks back -- beyond Al, at
the far edge of the lawn, horseshoe in hand, Burt waves to him-- Sam waves back, then
turns, smiling at Annie as the Attendant wheels her away --
SAM
Nice talking to you. Annie.
OBSERVER
Glad to see you’re up and around.
Sam turns and walks past Al to
the cement walkway that skirts the grassy, treed yard. Al smiles slyly as he follows --
OBSERVER
So how’d, uh...nappie—time go, old feller?
SAM
I knew you’d ask about that. I just knew
it... if you had any compassion at all...
OBSERVER
Are you kidding? I’ve got lots of
compassion.
(a beat, then sincerely)
I’m sorry I asked, okay?
(another beat)
But I just gotta know one little thing...
SAM
Forget it, Al.
(he looks at him)
But I’ll tell you... you know what’s really
sad? That’s the most intimate I’ve been
with a woman in I don’t know how long.
OBSERVER
Considering what she was doing, that is
pretty sad, Sam.
Sam stops and looks over to the
edge of the yard where BURT and HECTOR VISPANSA toss horseshoes towards a rebar which juts
up from a sandpit. A few other RESIDENTS sit in lawn chairs that dot the grass -- some
watch the horseshoe game, cheering them on every so often, while others seem to just be
sitting, doing nothing but perhaps dreaming.
SAM
Do we know what I’m here for?
OBSERVER
Yeah. I think so.
SAM
It’s a scam, right? Hawkins is robbing all
these old people blind and I’m supposed to
somehow stop her... get it back for them...
OBSERVER
The place burns. Sam.
SAM
What?
OBSERVER
Arson.
(a beat, he looks around)
All these people... see those bars on all
the windows and doors? They can’t get out,
Sam. They all die... tomorrow night.
Sam looks from Al to the people
on the lawn, and back to Al and we --
FADE OUT
END OF ACT ONE
ACT
TWO
FADE IN
INT. HAWKINS HOME —
SAM’S ROOM — NIGHT
Al appears to be sitting in Noble’s wheelchair, fiddling with his handheld computer,
while Sam paces the room.
SAM
I don’t get it. I mean, they’ve already
taken alot of these people for their cars,
jewelry, almost anything of value... in
exchange for the high rent around here.
Burt tells me that most of them just sign
over their social security and pension
checks every month. If these people die,
that flow of green stops, too. What do the
Hawkins have to gain by killing off their
bread and butter?
OBSERVER
All I’ve got here is that they’re arrested,
tried and convicted. Rosalind ends up in
Sybil Brand, and her son, Robert, gets
life—plus at USP Lompoc. They’re both
( still there, by the way.
SAM
This is ‘74. That’s over twenty years.
See? It doesn’t make any sense. What
could’ve been worth risking the rest of
their lives over?
OBSERVER
(punches buttons)
I don’t know...
(scanning more readout)
Wait a minute... Here we go. Whew. How
does two—and—a—half million bucks strike
you?
SAM
Two—and—a—half million? How? From where?
OBSERVER
Listen to this... at the time of the fire,
a little over half the residents here had
already named Rosalind and Son as co—
beneficiary’s in their life insurance
policies.
Sam sits at the desk. Shakes his
head.
SAM
Life insurance. You know Rachel said
something about signing over Noble’s life
insurance to Rosalind this morning.
OBSERVER
Well, there’s your motivation. And it’s a
classic. Happy now?
SAM
Yeah. So now we know what, and where, and
who, and how, and why.
OBSERVER
And when.
SAM
I said when.
OBSERVER
No you didn’t. You said who, where,
what...
(thinks)
who, where, what... why and how.
SAM
And when.
OBSERVER
No, I said when.
SAM
No, you said who, where, what, why and how.
YOU didn’t say when.
OBSERVER
(rattled)
Oh... Ok. And when.
SAM
So what does that leave?
OBSERVER
The fire.
A beat. Then a knock at the door
is followed by Juliet’s sing—song voice --
JULIET
Mr. Burk—o—witz...
Al grimaces and looks at Sam --
OBSERVER
Nappie time?
SAM
Couldn’t be. I convinced her to give me a
trial run with Fruit—Of—The—Loom.
OBSERVER
So how’re you doing so far?
SAM
(a look, then)
Come on in, Juliet.
The door opens and Juliet
scuttles in, heading directly towards Al --
JULIET
Just going to get this out of here for you...
She grabs the wheelchair’s
handgrips and whips the chair around, leaving Al sitting on nothing but air. Juliet starts
off, pauses, then looks back at Sam -- who does a double take at Al’s bizarre posture
--
JULIET
Aren’t you feeling well?
SAM
No... I mean.. yes. I’m feeling fine.
JULIET
You’re not hungry then?
SAM
I’m starved.
JULIET
Well, I cancelled your soft—tray for this
evening... thought you’d be wanting to join
the others in the dining room. But if
you'd prefer...
SAM
Where’s the dining room?
INT. — DINING ROOM —
NIGHT
Sam enters the large room and looks around — bright fluorescent lighting, linoleum
floor, barred windows, six long formica—top tables. A cafeteria—like serving bar
juts into the room beneath a long, wide pass—thru, and a few framed prints adorn the
pinkish plaster walls. The room is nearly full — the atmosphere chatty -- dinnertime
is obviously a main event. TWO FEMALE ATTENDANTS act as waitresses for the room: serving
and clearing and helping those who need it. Sam reacts
to --
JEWEL
There he is! Noble! Noble, over here!
Sam nods acknowledgement and
heads over to the far table where LIBBY, MARY, JEWEL, and BURT sit on one side, and
ATHERTON, HECTOR, and GRACIE line the other. Mary looks uncomfortable with her cast.
Gracie sits quietly in a blue patterned dress, seams out and buttons in. She watches Sam
with wide—eyed awe. A young ATTENDANT, NINA, rolls a serving cart around the table,
setting steaming bowls of soup in front of them as --
JEWEL
(as he approaches)
We saved you a seat next to Gracie.
(then turns to Mary)
Mary, pass me the crackers...
MARY
I don’t want crackers. My arm itches.
JEWEL
Alright... I’ll have some, then. Just pass
them to me, honey.
Mary hands her the basket of
crackers as Sam pulls out the empty chair at the end of the table and sits, smiling at
Gracie -- Gracie lets out a shy little gasp, and looks away quickly. Libby looks up from
her soup, eyeing Sam suspiciously. Atherton looks into his soup, eyeing it suspiciously.
ATHERTON
What kind of soup is this? What are these
brown things at the bottom?
HECTOR
(eating)
Mushroom.
ATHERTON
Mushroom? Mushrooms can be poisonous.
MARY
What time is it?
JEWEL
Not “cooking” mushrooms, Atherton... only
some wild mushrooms and toadstools are
poisonous.
MARY
(takes a sip of soup)
I think I’m missing the Waltons.
ATHERTON
I suppose you can tell the difference, Mrs.
Euell Gibbons?
(pushes bowl away)
Well, I, for one am not taking a chance.
BURT
I am.
(slurps a bite, then)
Nina, tell Mr. Wong that the soup is A—1
NINA, smiles at Burt as she sets
a bowl of soup in front of Sam —-
SAM
Thank—you.
Then she picks up his napkin and
tucks it in like a bib around Sam’s shirt collar. With a pained smile --
SAM
That’s perfect... thanks.
He looks across to Burt, who
shrugs with a resigned roll of his eyes -—
JEWEL
(smiles, watching)
Nina likes to baby us.
BURT
Well, I don’t need to be babied, and
neither does Noble.
JEWEL
Oh. Burt. Men love to be babied.
(to Sam)
He’s just too much of a poop
to admit it.
MARY
(with a big sigh)
I’m worried about John—Boy.
I haven't seen him in two weeks now.
Why can't I eat in
the TV room like I used to?
JEWEL
Now, Mary, You know what
Ros said about you and that TV.
SAM
Ros?
BURT
(with rancor)
Hawkins.
SAM
You call her Ros?
JEWEL
Of course I do. We all do...
(a look to Burt)
Well, almost all of US.
BURT
She's a witch.
ATHERTON
You’re just still mad about your boat.
BURT
Did I tell you, Noble? She made me sell my
boat.
HECTOR
You don’t sell your boat, you don’t have no
money for living here. What you need a
boat for anyway?
BURT
I loved that boat. Did I ever tell you
about the time me and Mazie sailed her all
the way down to Acapulco?
ATHERTON
The continuing love story about a man and
his boat. Please, spare us.
MARY
I like this story.
BURT
Well, all I know is, I had a better life
then on that boat than I do here.
LIBBY
(breaking her silence)
Of course you did Burt. You were younger.
Mazie was alive. But the fact of the
matter is, without Rosalinds generosity
you would be up a creek without a paddle.
SAM
Then all of you are... happy here?
JEWEL
Lord, yes. Aren’t we Mary? This is home.
HECTOR
They take good care here.
ATHERTON
It’s better than that zoo at my niece’s
house, that’s for sure.
BURT
You’ll find out, Noble. Rachel’s giving
her your Caddie, you know. Next thing
it’ll be your house. Then she’ll have you
sign over your life insurance.
JEWEL
No, not Noble. He has family.
SAM
What do you mean?
JEWEL
Well, like Mary and me. And Hector... we
don’t have any family left. Our family is
here. So why not leave it to Ros for
everybody to share?
SAM
That’s what she tells you? That she shares
the money with everyone here?
JEWEL
Well, when Saul Goldstein died, bless his
soul, she put in all that new kitchen
stuff.
MARY
And the new TV. I helped pick it out.
BURT
Yeah. She did hire Mr. Wong. Can’t
understand a word that fella says, but he
sure can cook.
LIBBY
(dubiously to Sam)
Just what exactly are you getting at, Mr.
Burkowitz?
SAM
Getting at? Nothing... I... just...
BURT
Nothing my foot. He feels the way I do. A
man needs to own things. You show me a man
who doesn’t own things, and I’ll show you a
man with no chimichongas. Right, Noble?
SAM
Yeah... right.
Suddenly Gracie takes a deep
breath and exhales in a flutter of nerves -- She turns resolutely to Sam, sits up as
straight as she can, and holds out one hand with formal decorum --
GRACIE
Hello. Doctor Einstein. I'm Grace Davison.
But everybody calls me Gracie.
Sam looks around at the others
-- Libby narrows her eyes at him in warning -- Jewel smiles indulgently -- Burt shakes his
head and shrugs. Sam looks back to Gracie. He takes her hand, kisses it gallantly and --
SAM
Its an absolute pleasure. Gracie.
Sam looks up at Libby. Her
expression has softened. Gracie beams -
CUT TO:
INT. — SAMS ROOM —
NIGHT
Sam, shirt off, is undressing for bed. The old bones of Noble’s body ache and
complain at him as he struggles with his slacks -- he can't seem to bend low enough or
raise his leg high enough to get them off. Al sits on the edge of the desk, watching with
unabashed amusement.
SAM
It's tragic, you know? They all really
think that Rosalind is some kind of saint.
He teeters, nearly falls over,
and manages to sit down on the bed -- slacks down around his ankles.
SAM
This is ridiculous. I cant even get my
pants off.
OBSERVER
I’d love to help you out there gramps, but...
SAM
You’re enjoying this. aren’t you?
OBSERVER
I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear
the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
(a beat)
George Eliot.
SAM
Go away. I’m going to bed... Sam Beckett.
CUT TO:
INT. - SAM’S ROOM - NIGHT
The room is dark. Sam sleeps in pajamas on his back. After a beat we become aware of the
sound of someone crying. Sam shifts position, rolls over on his side. The soft crying
becomes mournful sobbing. Sam stirs awake, opens his eyes, listening. He sits up.
INT. — EAST WING HALLWAY
Sam opens his door and looks out. The crying is coming from the room across the hall. He
looks both ways down the empty hail, then pads across to Gracie’s door.
INT. — GRACIE’S ROOM
Sam quietly opens the door a bit and peeks in. The room is dimly lit from a nightstand
lamp, the bed is mussed, but empty. A whimpering cry -- Sam opens the door wider.
Scrunched up in the far corner of the room, dressed in an inside—out nightgown, is
GRACIE. Her arms are clutched around her knees, and she rocks herself as she sobs, her
long grey hair hanging loose and ratty around her face.
SAM
Mrs. Davison?
No response. Sam enters the room
and goes to her.
SAM
Gracie? Gracie... what’s the matter?
Sam crouches down next to her --
oblivious of his presence, she continues to rock and cry.
SAM
Are you in pain?
He reaches out and touches her
-- she startles up, tear—swollen eyes wide like a frightened deer --
GRACIE
Don't touch me! Get away!
SAM
(withdraws his hand)
Gracie... I only want to help... tell me
what’s wrong.
GRACIE
I don’t know... I don’t know... I don’t
know...
SAM
(reaching out again)
It’s cold on the floor here. Let me help
you back to your bed.
GRACIE
(frightened)
Don’t touch me! Who are you!?
SAM
I’m Sam...
(rolls his eyes at himself)
I’m not going to hurt you...
GRACIE
Sam...? Sam...? I don’t know Sam...
(she looks at him, a beat)
Oooh. I know you...
(calming)
You’re Doctor Einstein.
SAM
Yeah... Yeah, Doctor Einstein.
(tentatively reaches out again)
Come on. Let’s go over to the bed.
Gracie allows Sam to help her
up-- he puts an arm around her waist and leads her to the bed -- he sits her down.
GRACIE
I... I’m so glad you came by. I need a
doctor, you see. A real one. Not just one
of those... stupid... people.
(miserably)
Something’s... terribly wrong.
SAM
Tell me.
GRACIE
I... I can’t... think. I can’t think.
(she looks into his eyes)
I have a boy. A beautiful little boy.
SAM
Your son...?
GRACIE
(controlled panic)
I can’t think... I can’t remember...
SAM
What, Gracie... tell me what...
GRACIE
My baby’s name...
(she wails)
What’s my baby’s name?
SAM
I... I don’t know. Gracie. But... I’ll
find out for you... I'll go and...
GRACIE
No! Don’t go! Just tell me my baby’s
name... please... I can’t remember what he
looks like... I don’t remember...
Sam wants desperately to help
her -- he searches the room with his eyes -- and sees a framed photograph on the desk --
SAM
(into her eyes)
Gracie. . . I’m just going over here for a
second.
(she reaches for him)
I’ll be right back...
He goes to the desk and picks up
the photograph. It's of a somber, unsmiling, dark—haired man in his late thirties --
Sam looks at it a beat, then takes it back over to Gracie -- he holds it out to her --
SAM
Is this your son? Is this him, Gracie?
Gracie looks up at the picture,
studies it a moment -- then suddenly her eyes grow wide and she recoils --
GRACIE
0oooo... take that away... that’s not my
baby! I don’t like that... stupid...
person...
Gracie pulls herself into a
fetal position and starts moaning again. Baffled and frustrated, Sam looks at her. He gets
up and sets the photograph back onto the desk, pauses, then starts opening the desk
drawers, rifling through the contents, searching... He comes across a number of loose
photographs -- he looks through them, stopping at a slightly yellowed one of a smiling boy
in a baseball cap-- Sam looks from it to the framed photo of the man -- It’s the same
person. He turns over the small photo of the boy. Handwritten on the back is: Steven, age
10, Summer 1945. He looks over at Gracie, pauses, then takes it over to her --
SAM
Gracie... Gracie. look at this...
She quiets, sniffles, looks up.
Sam holds out the picture --
SAM
Steven. It’s Steven.
GRACIE
Stevie? Stevie?
(takes the picture)
Ohhhhh. My baby. My sweet baby. Stevie.
Stevie.... oh, my baby... Stevie...
She rocks slightly, cooing
gently to the photograph -- Sam watches her a moment, then helps her lie down -- she
smiles calmly, clutching the picture to her breast. Sam covers her up. She closes her
eyes, still softly repeating her baby’s name over and over. A beat. Then Sam
turns--and reacts to LIBBY, who stands in robe and slippers, watching from the doorway.
Sam looks back at Gracie, then turns toward the door. As he approaches, Libby blocks his
way --
LIBBY
Just who are you?
CUT TO:
INT. — SAM’S ROOM
— NIGHT
Sam sits on his bed, looking tired. Libby stands by the closed door, arms crossed, looking
at Sam --
LIBBY
I know for a fact you’re not Noble. So
there's no use pretending.
SAM
Libby... it’s late... can’t we...
LIBBY
At first I thought you were a demon.
SAM
A demon?
LIBBY
I saw The Exorcist. In Westwood. My
youngest boy and his kids took me. I
thought maybe you had taken possession of
Noble’s body...
SAM
Oh, give me a break.
(mumbles)
Why would I take possession of this body?
LIBBY
I’ll have you know, Noble was a wonderful
looking man in his day.
SAM
I’m sorry. I’m sure he was.
LIBBY
Anyway. I was wrong. No demon would be
that sweet to Gracie. So you’re not a
demon.
SAM
Glad to hear it. Now... can we get some
sleep?
LIBBY
It was wonderful, you know... what you did
for Gracie.
SAM
Yeah... well....
LIBBY
That son of hers. Just lives high off her
money and won’t give her the time of day.
It’s getting so hard for her. She’s having
trouble remembering even simple things now.
(she pauses)
That’s what happened to Noble. First it
was just, he couldn’t remember his old
address, phone number, the dates of things.
Numbers mostly. That’s odd, isn’t it? A
math teacher... and the first thing he
loses are his numbers. But then...
Libby sighs heavily. She walks
over to the desk chair and sits down. She’s caught up in the memories now, the
memories that to her, are crisp and clear.
LIBBY
He would sometimes look Claire right in the
eye and ask her who the hell she was. Can
you imagine? Married over forty years and
he'd ask her who she was. I think that’s
what killed her. It wasn’t the cancer. It
was the loss.
(a beat)
I took care of him after that. Claire was
my best friend. But then my heart betrayed
the rest of me, and I couldn’t... I wasn’t
strong enough anymore. So Rachel and I
looked around for a place where I could
still at least help look out after him.
And we came here.
SAM
What about... I know you have children.
What happened to your husband?
LIBBY
(she frowns)
The husband was a minister. But he spread
the seed a lot better than he spread the
word. Sowed four beautiful children, then
took off for greener pastures. He should
have been a farmer.
SAM
I'm sorry.
LIBBY
Oh, believe me... don’t be. He was as
exciting as... as...
SAM
A game of horseshoes.
LIBBY
(laughs)
Yes. A game of horseshoes.
(she smiles)
I’ve had a very good life, you know. I
don’t regret a thing... except maybe...
(beat)
That it’s gone by so fast. At the
beginning... when you stand on wobbly legs
and look forward across that mysterious sea
of possibilities... it seems so scary, so
endless. But the next thing you know,
you’re already across... and when you look
back it’s no bigger than a puddle. Not
deep, not even mysterious. Hardly big
enough to make a splash.
SAM
(smiles thoughtfully, then)
I like you, Libby.
LIBBY
I am so ashamed of myself. Thinking you
were a devil.
SAM
Uh... that’s okay. Honest mistake.
LIBBY
You know... I heard you say that your name
was Sam.
SAM
Oh, Lord.
LIBBY
And then I knew.
SAM
And then you knew what?
LIBBY
What you are.
SAM
Okay. I give. What am I?
LIBBY
I think you’re an angel.
SAM
Oh, Libby. I’m definitely not an angel.
Not by a long shot.
LIBBY
Then what are you doing here in Noble’s
body?
SAM
I’m... uh... well, it’s a little hard to
explain. I’m here to... save you folks
from a fire.
LIBBY
What fire?
(a beat, then indicating
downward)
Not...
SAM
No, no. A real fire. Tomorrow night.
Hawkins Home is going to burn down to the
ground if I don't stop it.
LIBBY
Tomorrow night? Are you sure?
SAM
Yeah, I’m sure.
LIBBY
You know this.
SAM
Yeah.
LIBBY
And you’re here to save us?
SAM
Yeah.
LIBBY
But you’re not an angel.
SAM
No.
LIBBY
Oh.... Okay.
(she whispers)
I’m not supposed to know, am I?
SAM
No.
(on her look)
I mean, not because I’m an angel,
but...
LIBBY
Oops. You said it.
(a wink)
That’s okay, Samuel.
I pried it out of you.
(all excited now)
So tell me about tomorrow...
Sam starts to protest again...
but it's gone too far. He sighs and we
FADE OUT
END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE
FADE IN
INT. HAWKINS HOME — OFFICE — MORNING
SAM and RACHEL sit in chairs across the desk from ROSALIND. Her son, ROBERT, a wiry man in
his late twenties, stands at her side, a stack of folders and papers on the desk in front
of him. They all look agitated.
SAM
Uh—uh. No way.
RACHEL
Daddy...
SAM
Rachel, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.
(to Rosalind)
So just forget it, lady.
ROSALIND
Mr. Burkowitz... aren't you being just a
little unreasonable?
SAM
Me? Unreasonable? That’s pretty funny,
coming from you.
ROBERT
Noble... may I call you Noble?
SAM
No.
ROBERT
Alright. Mr. Burkowitz. All we want to do
at this point is write it down. Make a
list of your assets. Nothing binding...
you've got absolutely nothing at risk here.
SAM
Nothing at risk? You people are
unbelievable.
RACHEL
Daddy. We have to do something.
ROSALIND
Whether you believe it or not, Mr.
Burkowitz, Robert and I are on your side.
SAM
Said the spider to the fly.
(then,)
This is a terrific routine. No. really.
You’re good.
RACHEL
Please, daddy. I’m broke. I’m really
broke. David needs braces, and Karen’s day
care after school eats up half my pay as it
is... Please, lets just listen to what
they have to say.
(as he starts to object)
Daddy... please? For me?
Rachel looks desperate. A beat.
Sam relents with a nod, folding his arms across his chest. Rosalind looks from Sam to
Rachel and back. Then, satisfied that she can go on --
ROSALIND
The unhappy fact of the matter is, quality
elder care is very expensive.
ROBERT
Here... maybe some comparisons will help to
clarify what kind of money we're talking
about. Let’s take, uh...
(rifling through papers)
Okay. Here’s a good example. Golden Years
Convalescent Rest Home.
SAM
Oh, yeah. Good choice. The croaker—joint.
ROBERT
I beg your pardon?
RACHEL
Daddy.
SAM
Just something Burt said...
(on Rachel’s look)
Sorry. Go on. I’m all ears.
ROBERT
(referring to papers)
Okay... the average yearly cost for full—
time residency at Golden Years is eighteen
thousand. Now that’s just room, board, and
regular day—to—day supervision. Any
medications, medical treatment, special
diets... all that is extra. And keep in
mind that they’re on the lower end of the
cost scale. And, correspondingly, of
course, provide less care and services.
ROSALIND
The monetary drain on a family can be
devastating. That's why Robert and I
devised an alternative way for our people
to support their own care.
ROBERT
Its called Unliquidated Remuneration.
ROSALIND
And, believe me Mr. Burkowitz, it all works
out quite equitably. As a matter of fact,
for over half the residents that are here
right now, Hawkins Home is actually
receiving compensation which is below our
own expenses for their care.
SAM
And for over half the residents here right
now, you and sonny there have slid
yourselves into the “payable to” position
on their life insurance policies.
ROBERT
Some of our people have no other family but
Mother, and me, and the other residents.
And some of them have no money, no other
assets but their life insurance policies.
ROSALIND
But we care for them, give them a family, a
home, love... and when they leave us, we
take our financial compensation from the
insurance, and the rest goes towards the
upkeep and expenses of Hawkins Home. Their
home. Their family's home... Your home,
Mr. Burkowitz.
(a beat)
I think the question here is, do you want a
free ride off your friends and family, or
do you want to pay your fair share?
Rosalind looks from Sam to
Rachel -- after a beat --
ROSALIND
So. Shall we make the list?
(off his look, she smiles)
It’s really not going to kill you.
CUT TO:
EXT. HAWKINS HOME — FRONT DRIVE — MORNING
Sam walks Rachel to her car, which is parked just outside the main entrance to the Home.
Rachel is worried, distracted. She fumbles in her shoulder bag for her keys --
RACHEL
I'm late for work. Again.
SAM
Rachel... I’m sorry...
RACHEL
(pecks him on the cheek)
Yeah... I gotta go, Daddy.
She unlocks the car door, opens
it --
SAM
Uh... how come my house is in your name?
RACHEL
(a sigh)
Don't you remember? You and Mama created a
living trust about five years ago. After
mama got sick. You put everything in my
name.
SAM
(nods, thinking)
Oh. That’s good.
Rachel looks at him -- then
starts to get into the
car --
SAM
Um... where do you live...?
RACHEL
Oh God, Daddy...
(then, patiently)
Me and the kids live in North Hollywood.
On Vista. Just two blocks from your place.
SAM
In a house?
RACHEL
Yes. In a house.
(a beat)
I really have to go.
SAM
Do you rent or own?
RACHEL
Well, Steven makes the payments... but I
got the house in the divorce settlement.
(checks watch)
It’s almost nine...
SAM
So... I’m your big expense.
RACHEL
(softens)
Daddy, it’s okay. It’s just tight right
now... But I’ll figure something out. You
don’t need to worry about...
SAM
I want you to sell my house, the furniture,
the car, my coin collection... everything.
RACHEL
What?
SAM
Everything we put down on that list in
there. Sell it. It’s yours.
RACHEL
Daddy... I can’t do that.
SAM
Yes, you can. You need the money. And
it’s all right there. Enough to pay for
what bills I’m going to have left here...
(asides)
One way or another...
(then adds)
And plenty left over for you and the kids.
RACHEL
Daddy, I won’t do it. It’s out of the
question. That’s your home, your things...
SAM
Rachel... I don’t need them anymore.
RACHEL
But... you’re getting better. I mean, look
at you. It’s like a miracle. So your
memory isn't perfect... who’s is? But I’ll
bet that’ll come back, too. And pretty
soon you can move back home, and I’ll take
care of you there, and...
SAM
Rachel... I’m not coming back home. I’m
not... getting better. This is all just
very... temporary.
RACHEL
What are you talking about? Did your
doctor tell you something that...
SAM
No, I haven’t seen a doctor. Don’t need
to. I don’t expect you to understand this,
and I really can’t explain. But I need you
to believe me.
(firmly, eye—to—eye)
I’m not going to stay better, Rachel. I’m
sorry that you got your hopes built up.
I’m sorry that this hurts you. But I want
you to make me a promise.
(pause)
Okay?
RACHEL
(weakly)
Okay.
SAM
Sell it. All of it.
(she starts to object)
Take the money, Rachel. Do me the honor of
allowing me to leave happiness in my wake,
rather than misery. Let me go out as your
hero, instead of your ball and chain.
Rachel looks at him with a
tumult of love, sorrow, release, confusion... and belief. We hold a beat as they look at
each other, then
CUT TO:
INT. HAWKINS HOME — WEST
WING HALLWAY — MORNING
Sam walks down the hallway which leads to the Home’s public rooms. He pokes his head
into the TV room --Mary, Jewel, and a few others are watching a morning show. Jewel
glances over to him --
SAM
Have you seen Libby anywhere?
JEWEL
I think she was helping Diane set up for
exercise class in the Rec room.
Sam nods a thanks, then
continues down the hall --
INT. — REC ROOM — MORNING
DIANE, a pretty, fresh—faced woman in her late—twenties is worrying a heavy game
table toward the far wall. Folding chairs sit pell—mell in the center of the room.
Just as Sam appears in the doorway, she gives the table a shove, and pulls a hand back
suddenly -- She looks at a fingernail --
DIANE
Oh, Sh...
She catches a glimpse of Sam and
censors herself --
DIANE
...ucks
SAM
Need some help there?
DIANE
Mr. Burkowitz! I heard yoou were, uh...
feeling better.
(beat)
And yes. I could use a hand... I don’t know
where Victor is. He usually helps me with
all this.
Sam walks over and grabs onto
the table. With a cockiness of strength reserved for men who inhabit younger bodies, he
hefts it up and pulls -- a muscle.
SAM
(grabbing his back)
Ohhh. Jeez. Ow. Damn.
DIANE
Are you alright? Oh. I’m so sorry. Here,
I can do it... really.
Holding his back, and feeling
annoyingly ineffective, Sam watches as Diane grips the table and pushes and shoves and
shimmies it the few more feet to the wall. Sam sighs.
DIANE
There.
She scans the room -- her eyes
pause momentarily on something at the far wall -- she looks quickly to Sam, who winces as
he gently stretches --
DIANE
Um... are you sure you’re okay?
SAM
Yeah... it’s just... you know, a little
tweek... I could have moved it if...
DIANE
(indulgently)
Of course you could have. Now... how about
you help me get these chairs into a circle.
Sam shakes his head at himself
-- then nods --
SAM
(gloomily)
I think I can handle that.
As Sam starts re—arranging
the chairs, Diane crosses casually to the far wall -- where the small door to an
electrical panel sits partway open. She glances at Sam, whose back is toward her, shuts
it, and grabs a pair of wire cutters that are set on the cabinet top nearby. She shoves
them discreetly into a drawer. CAMERA FOCUSES on the panel door — in small red
letters we read: SECURITY ALARM — WEST WING.
Diane turns back toward Sam and starts helping with the rest of the chairs --
SAM
So... uh, where’s Libby?
Jewel thought she was in here with you.
DIANE
Oh, she was. I was a bit late getting
started today, so she offered to go to the
kitchen with the lemonade and cookies I
brought and get them all ready.
SAM
For an exercise class?
DIANE
(confidentially)
Well, I know I shouldn’t. But
it’s a special treat. Just this one time.
At that, with the clinking and
clattering of a serving cart set with a large tray of colorful cookies, a big, tall
pitcher of lemonade, and paper cups and napkins, LIBBY, dressed in smock and slacks,
enters through the hall doorway.
LIBBY
Where shall I park this, Diane?
(sees Sam)
Samuel! There you are!
DIANE
Oh, thank you, Libby.
Anywhere over there is fine...
(a beat)
Samuel?
LIBBY
(flushing)
Oh. Oops.
SAM
(shrugs to Diane)
Just a nickname... she... calls me.
(walks over to Libby)
Well. So, Libby. Want to...
um... take a little walk?
LIBBY
Good idea... I could use a little exercise
before class!
Diane watches with a bemused
look as Sam takes Libby's arm and escorts her from the room.
CUT TO:
INT. — SAM’S ROOM -
DAY
Close on the telephone which sits on the desk -- a hand picks up the receiver. CAMERA
PULLS BACK to reveal Sam at the desk. He glances back at Libby. who stands next to him,
fingers holding a place in a phone book -- he reaches out to dial -- only there’s no
buttons, no dial, nothing.
SAM
How do you dial these things?
LIBBY
Oh, you can’t. All calls go through the
receptionist in the lobby.
SAM
Terrific.
A beat, then we hear a voice
from the receiver --
VOICE (0.S.)
Good Morning, Mr. Burkowitz.
SAM
Hi. Um... I’d like to make a call?
VOICE (O.S.)
Of course. And what number would that be?
Oh, uh...
SAM
(to Libby. discreetly)
What’s the number?
LIBBY
(reads)
555.
SAM
(into phone)
Okay, it’s 555...
LIBBY
3, 8, 2, 5.
SAM
thirty—eight, twenty—five.
VOICE (O.S.)
Thank-you... hold just a moment...
Sam looks at Libby, who watches
him expectantly. A beat. Then the same female voice is back on the line --
VOICE (0.6.)
Excuse me, Mr. Burkowitz. Was that number 555-3825?
SAM
Uh... yeah. Yeah, that’s right.
INT. RECEPTION LOBBY — AT
RECEPTION DESK & SWITCHBOARD
The RECEPTIONIST frowns, considering --
RECEPTIONIST
(after a beat)
That’s the Sunland Police Department. I
think maybe I should check with Mrs.
Hawkins before I put you through... Can
you hold on just a moment, Mr. Burkowitz?
Mr. Burkowitz...? Hello...?
BACK TO SAM’S ROOM
The receiver is back in its cradle — the room is empty.
BACK TO RECEPTIONIST
She punches a few buttons -- a beat, then --
RECEPTIONIST
Mrs. Hawkins? This is Melody. I’m not
sure what this means, if anything, but Mr.
Burkowitz just tried to place a call to the
police...
CUT TO:
EXT. HAWKINS HOME — BACK
YARD — DAY
Cane in hand, Sam walks briskly with Libby across the wide lawn, past fellow residents --
heading for the back gate --
LIBBY
(trotting to keep up)
Samuel..
SAM
Do you have a car?
LIBBY
No. Where are we going?
They reach the gate. Beyond it
is a row of parking spaces, and a two—lane highway. Sam stops, looks around, then --
SAM
(reaches gate)
Not we... me. I’m going to the police.
LIBBY
You still haven’t explained what you need
the police for.
SAM
Libby... the Hawkin’s are going to try and
burn the place down tonite. It would be
nice if I could do something to stop them.
LIBBY
Why don’t you just... perform a miracle or
something?
SAM
I... don't do miracles.
Libby frowns with
disappointment. Across the lawn, Victor exits the building, pushing an old man in a
wheelchair. Sam spots him -- he opens the gate and slips around -- then, with haste --
SAM
How far is it? Which way?
LIBBY
(she points)
About five miles or so that way...
SAM
Five miles...? I don’t think these legs
will go that far.
(looks at parked cars)
Maybe I can hotwire one of these cars.
As he’s thinking, a BUS
PASSES on the highway -- Suddenly Victor notices them at the gate --
VICTOR
Hey! Hey, Mrs. Wilde! Mr. B! What are
you two doing over there!?
Sam reacts -- he tries to think
faster, looking
around --
SAM
I need a tool... a screwdriver.., a nail
file... do you have a nail file?
She pats the pockets to her
smock -- pulls out two round bronze—colored coins --
LIBBY
I have these.
Sam glances to Victor.. who is
walking slowly toward them --
SAM
Damn. A hairpin? Anything?
LIBBY
What’s wrong with these?
SAM
Libby... those won’t work. I can’t hotwire
a car with... what are those?
LIBBY
My good luck things... bus tokens.
SAM
Oh.
A beat as he continues mulling
over the problem of transportation. He watches as Victor stops to help a
resident rise from a lawn chair -- Suddenly it hits him! He shoots a look down the highway
-- Just a few hundred feet away, the bus is stopped, letting out passengers --
SAM
Bus tokens! Libby, you’re a genius!
Here, give them to me!
LIBBY
Uh—uh. They're my tokens. Im going with
you.
Sam sighs with exasperation,
starts to argue, and sees that Victor is closing in. He looks toward the bus -- the last
passenger is slowly climbing down the steps. He throws up his hands in defeat --
SAM
Okay, Okay. But, lets go!
Libby smiles in excitement as
she rounds the gate and Sam takes her hand -- and Sam with his cane, and Libby with her
tokens; with old legs pounding the cement, and old hearts pounding in their chests; they
run as fast as they can toward the bus, yelling “Wait! Wait!” -- Victor's jaw
drops with disbelief. He yells and takes off after them --
ANGLE — AT THE BUS
The bus starts to pull away -- Sam and Libby yell out -- the bus stops, opens it’s
door. Sam and Libby run a few more feet and reach the bus. Sam’s holding his back,
and favoring a leg -- Libby’s laughing like a girl -- they rush aboard --
ANOTHER ANGLE — WITH VICTOR
Victor races to the bus stop -- reaching it just as the bus pulls away -- He sees Sam and
Libby through a window --Sam frowns. Libby waves. Victor punches the bus bench, kicks the
ground -- watches the bus disappear down the road, then turns and races back to Hawkins
Home.
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE STATION —
RECEPTION AREA — DAY
Sam and Libby sit on a bench against the wall opposite the long counter that separates the
crowded reception area from the hustle and bustle of desktop police work. Libby watches
the activity with interest.. Sam taps his cane, squirming and fidgeting impatiently. A MAN
passes by, nearly tripping over the cane -- he turns angrily, sees Sam and Libby, gives
Sam a disgusted look and, shaking his head, walks off. A LITTLE BOY, about five or six,
wanders off from his mother.. He stands directly in front of Sam and stares. Sam smiles.
The boy stares.. Sam looks away. The boy stares. Sam stares back. The boy stares. Sam
makes a face. The boy screams. The MOTHER comes racing over, grabs the boy, and glares at
Sam as if he’d instigated the encounter. She hustles the kid off to the other side of
the room. Sam looks up at a big round clock on the wall -- it’s 12:30.
SAM
(annoyed)
We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour.
LIBBY
Well, that Sergeant did say it might be a
while.
SAM
But he smiled when he said that. I don't
think he took us seriously.
LIBBY
No, probably not.
A YOUNG WOMAN in jeans and
t—shirt sits at the far end of the bench and looks over at Sam -- Sam looks back --
the woman quickly averts her eyes --
SAM
Have you noticed how everybody looks at us?
Like we were...
LIBBY
They look at us like we are old, Samuel.
SAM
Well, I’m not old.
LIBBY
(she looks at him)
You’re old.
SAM
No, no... this body is old... but actually.
I’m fairly young in here.
LIBBY
(sighs)
Yes, I know. Me too.
SAM
No, I mean really.
LIBBY
(eye contact, firmly)
Yes, I know, Samuel. Me too.
(a beat, she shakes her head)
There is really no such thing as an old
person, you know. Closed—minded, confused,
dispirited, irrational, disagreeable, nasty
and crazy... yes. But young people can be
all of those things as well. A body will
always eventually weaken and wrinkle and
loosen all around the person who wears it.
Unfortunately, the world seems to think
that loose skin is the leading cause of
brain damage.
Sam ponders this a beat -- then
--
VOICE (O.S.)
Are you Noble Burkowitz?
Sam and Libby look up to see a
tall, young, humorless looking UNIFORMED OFFICER. He reads their names from a
clip—board --
SAM
Well, finally.
(looks around)
Look, I think we should talk somewhere a
little more private...
OFFICER
(ignores him, turns to Libby)
Abigail Wilde?
LIBBY
I prefer Libby, if you don’t mind.
OFFICER
Will You two please follow me to Lieutenant
Mahew’s office?
Sam and Libby exchange a
satisfied look of achievement -- Sam rises slowly -- his back and legs are tired and sore.
The Officer waits with strained patience as they rise, then leads them across the
reception area to a door. He signals to a woman behind the counter, the door buzzes, and
he pushes it open -- gesturing for them to walk ahead of him -- Sam stands aside, allowing
Libby to pass through first -- he whispers
SAM
Let’s not say anything about angels.
LIBBY
(a look)
My skin isn’t that loose.
INT. STATION — OPEN DESK
AREA
The room is all sound and activity -- The Officer leads Sam and Libby through the room and
down a hallway at the back.
INT. HALLWAY
The Officer reaches an open doorway, stands to the side and nods for Sam and Libby to go
in.
INT. SERGEANT MAHEW’S OFFICE
LIEUTENANT MAHEW -- a burly man in his late forties -- sits hunched over paperwork at a
cluttered desk. Two chairs are set in front of the desk. MAHEW looks up as Sam and Libby
enter, and cross toward the chairs.. He stands, smiles --
MAHEW
Well, well, well. Sorry to have kept you
folks waiting so long.
SAM
Forget it.
MAHEW
Sit down, sit down....
Libby looks at Sam -- they sit.
Mahew settles back into his chair and looks at them.
MAHEW
Thirsty?
LIBBY
Not me.
SAM
No. No, thanks. Lets just get right down
to it. The reason we came here today is...
Suddenly MAHEW looks past him,
toward the door --
MAHEW
There you are. Come on in. Rosalind.
Sam and Libby turn. In the
doorway are ROSALIND HAWKINS and VICTOR. Libby looks to Sam -- Sam glances at her then
turns quickly back to Mahew --
SAM
Lieutenant... please... you’ve got to hear
me out...
MAHEW
(to Rosalind)
Are these your runaways?
SAM
Runaways? Wait a minute...
Rosalind walks forward, placing
a gentle hand on Libby's shoulder. Victor stands next to her -- and grins at Sam --
ROSALIND
Libby, you had us so worried. Now the way
Noble’s been acting, I’n hardly surprised.
But you, dear...
SAM
(stands, waving cane with
agitation)
Listen to me. Lieutenant... This woman is
planning to...
MAHEW
Lets put the cane down, Mr., uh...
ROSALIND
Burkowitz.
(she signals to Victor)
Victor...?
Victor extracts a hypodermic
from his white jacket pocket. He moves toward Sam, pulling off the needle cap --
SAM
Hey’ Wait a minute! Lieutenant, just give
me a few minutes... please!
Victor continues his approach --
Sam backs around the side of his chair, swinging and poking the cane at him -- Mahew
stands, angered that things are getting out of control --
MAHEW
(yells)
Officer Strand!
(louder)
Strand! Get in here!
The young OFFICER enters
quickly, sees the commotion, and grabs Sam roughly from behind -- Sam groans, then yells
--
SAM
Let go of me! Why won’t you listen to me!?
Victor rips open an alcohol
wipe, rolls up Sam’s sleeve, and dabs his arm -- Sam struggles. The OFFICER jerks his
arms back farther behind him -- Sam yelps in pain --
LIBBY
Let go of him! You’re hurting him!
ROSALIND
Um, officer... that is an old man, not a
side of beef... and he’s breakable.
MAHEW
(uncomfortable)
Yeah, Strand... ease up
(to Rosalind)
What’s he givin’ him?
ROSALIND
A mild tranquilizer. It will just put him
to sleep for a few hours.
Victor sends the needle home.
Sam watches with horror as the syringe empties into his body. Almost immediately his
vision becomes fuzzy, the room begins to swirl, his legs start to buckle beneath him. The
OFFICER holds him up --
SAM
(thickly, with difficulty)
... Fire... Fire...
ROSALIND
(explains to Mahew)
The shot tends to burn just a little bit.
A beat, as he struggles mentally
against the ironclad grip of the drug -- then everything goes black, as it yanks him into
the womb of it’s dark, dreamless sleep.
FADE OUT
END OF ACT THREE
ACT FOUR
FADE IN
INT. HAWKINS HOME —
SAM’S ROOM — NIGHT
CLOSE ON SAM as he lies motionless on his back in the bed, covers folded neatly under his
arms. The room is dark -- his face is illuminated dimly by the outside lights which shine
through the barred window. Suddenly a mind searing clanging and banging of
metal—on—metal resounds through the room -- accompanied by yelling and shouting
-- CAMERA pulls back to reveal AL, banging on a steel pot with a metal soup ladle --
OBSERVER
Sam! Wake up, Sam!
(bangs some more)
Rise and shine!
Sam stirs slightly... then lies
still. Al bangs the pot again and yells close to Sam’s ear --
OBSERVER
SAM!
(bangs again)
Talk about sound sleepers...
(bangs half—heartedly)
Come on, Sam...
Al stops. Thinking. Hmmm. He
sets down the pot and spoon -- the second they’re not in contact with his fingers
they disappear from sight. He pulls his handheld computer from a pocket and pushes a few
buttons. He holds the computer close to his face and speaks into it --
OBSERVER
Wake up Sam! You’re late for school!
Al punches a button, and pauses,
thinking. He pushes a button, then speaks again --
OBSERVER
Sam! Get up and milk those cows, now!
Al pushes a button. He
concentrates a moment, then punches a series of buttons. A beat. He hits another button,
thinks again, and punches in another series. Satisfied, he holds the computer right next
to Sam’s ear. He hits a button -- and at ear—piercing volume a woman’s
shrill voice resounds --
WOMAN’S VOICE
WAKE UP SAM! YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL!
Sam stirs visibly. Squirms..
Rolls over onto his side, facing Al. A beat. Al punches another button -- this time a
deep, resonating male voice yells into Sam’s
ear --
MALE VOICE
SAM! GET UP AND MILK THOSE COWS NOW!
Sam takes a deep breath, frowns,
squirms -- then with a
complaining groan --
SAM
I don’t wanna. I’m tired.
Al punches a few buttons-- holds
the handheld back to Sam’s ear -- this time the voice is even louder and deeper --
MALE VOICE
SAM! GET UP AND MILK THOSE COWS, NOW!
Sam groans. Squirms.
SAM
Okay, dad. Okay.
(deep breath)
Here I come.
Sam opens his eyes, grumbling
and groaning. He elbows up, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings —-
SAM
Dad?
Al sighs, punches a button, and
pockets the computer. Sam looks over at him, completely disoriented --
SAM
Al...? ...What are you doing here?
OBSERVER
I've been trying to wake you up...
SAM
Oh.
(a beat, then)
Am I late for school?
OBSERVER
( groans )
Oh... come on. Sam. It’s fire night.
SAM
Fire night?
OBSERVER
1974. Hawkins Home. Old people. Fire.
SAM
(rubs his face)
Oh... right.
(holds his head)
God. I don’t know what they gave me,
but... my ears are ringing like somebody
banged cymbals right next to my head.
OBSERVER
Yeah, well... that’ll probably... go away.
(a beat)
Listen, Sam... Ziggy found the record of
the fire report. There are two points of
origin... The supply room in this wing,
and an explosion in the kitchen. Ziggy
isn't sure about the supply room, but he
thinks the kitchen goes around midnight.
SAM
What time is it now?
OBSERVER
Eleven—thirty.
SAM
Eleven-thirty? Why didn't you wake me up
sooner?
Al gives him a look. Sam throws
back the covers, swings his pajama’d legs over the side of the bed, reaches over and
flips on the nightstand lamp. He pauses. Slowly his face screws up in an appalled frown --
OBSERVER
What?
SAM
oh... jeez.
OBSERVER
What...?
SAM
(a big sigh)
I think... they played nappy time with me
while I was out.
Sam looks up at Al with dismay.
Al shrugs sympathetically --
CUT TO:
INT. — EAST WING HALLWAY
— NIGHT
Dressed now, cane in hand, Sam quietly steals down the far end of the hallway which ends
at a door. He opens it and goes through into the utility hall.
INT. — UTILITY HALL
Sam heads down to a vented door, which is appropriately
marked “SUPPLIES” -- he glances out through a wide glass emergency exit on his
right. It leads to a side yard. He opens the supply room doors looks into the darkness. He
feels around for a light switch, and flips on the overhead light. The room is about 8X10,
and lined with floor to ceiling shelves which are crowded with paper goods, linens,
cleaning and nursing supplies. No trouble here...yet.
INT. - EAST WING HALLWAY
Sam heads toward the lobby -- Behind him, the sound of a door opening. He glances back --
a dark—haired NURSE comes out of a room with a medicine tray. Sam scurries onward,
ducking around a corner --
INT. — RECEPTION LOBBY — NIGHT
Sam peeks out from the hallway into the lobby. A MALE NIGHT ATTENDANT sits at the desk,
reading a magazine and listening to rock music from a radio. Sam glances across the lobby
to the hallway that leads to the public rooms... and the kitchen. The phone rings. The
ATTENDANT picks it up --
MALE ATTENDANT
Hawkins Home.
(a beat)
Yeah, she's here, but I think she's making
rounds... Yeah... Okay, just a minute.
The Attendant sets the receiver
down, sighs, and stands. To the beat of the music, he rhythm—walks around the desk
and heads directly towards Sam --
INT. - EAST WING HALLWAY — NIGHT
The Attendant turns into the empty hallway and heads down -- disappearing around a corner.
A beat. A thump as something hits the inside of a nearby door. The door opens slowly. Sam
peeks out -- A paperback book hits him in the shoulder -- Sam turns back into the room --
SAM
Come on, lady... give me a break here.
He reacts, and quickly steps out
and closes the door -- another thump as something else hits the door. Sam rolls his eyes,
then heads into the lobby -- quickly crossing to the opposite hall.
INT. — WEST WING HALLWAY — NIGHT
Sam pads down the hall. The first door is labeled OFFICE. He tries the door. It’s
locked. He moves on --
INT. WEST WING HALLWAY —
ANOTHER ANGLE
Sam reaches the TV room, glances in. A muffled clanging sound from down the hall. He
stops, listens. Footsteps. Hugging the wall, he creeps forward to the rec room. He pauses.
The footsteps are headed for the doorway. Sam takes a deep breath, waiting... Then he
lunges around the corner, cane held high, ready to come down hard --
ANOTHER ANGLE
Staring at him wide—eyed and frightened, is LIBBY. In her arms she holds two fire
extinguishers and a large bath towel.
LIBBY
Samuel!
SAM
Oh, God, Libby. What are you doing in here?
Sam lowers his cane, lets out a
sigh, and walks into the dark rec room rubbing his heart. He leans against the high back
of a stuffed chair.
LIBBY
Are you alright?
SAM
Still just a little fuzzy.
(a beat)
So what happened after I...
LIBBY
I played dumb. I certainly didn't want a
shot, too.
(a confession)
I told Burt and Atherton about you. But
neither one believed me...
(a beat, then shakily)
I didn't know when you were going to wake
up. I thought it was all left up to me..
SAM
(turns to console her)
Oh, Libby... I'm sorry...
(reacts to her load)
What have you got there... fire
extinguishers?
LIBBY
I've been collecting them from all over the
building. I have more back in my room.
SAM
How’ve you been getting past the attendant
in the lobby?
LIBBY
Malcolm? Oh, he’s no problem. I just wrap
these up in the towel, and tell him I’m
walking my baby.
(off Sam’s look)
You can get away with quite a bit when
people expect you to be crazy. That’s one
part about being old that I just adore.
Sam smiles and shakes his head.
Suddenly they both freeze at the distinct sound of a door squeaking shut. Sam looks at
Libby, then turns and rushes out into the hallway --
SAM
(as he moves)
Stay here!
INT. — WEST WING HALLWAY
— AT THE KITCHEN
Sam moves quickly toward the kitchen --Libby, carrying her fire extinguishers, follows on
his heels. They reach the door -- Sam looks at her --
SAM
Libby, please... Stay here!
He opens the door and looks in
-- A loud HISSING SOUND emits from the two ovens and eight burners -- only one lit pilot
burns on the stove. The room is quickly filling with gas. Sam scans the room -- At the far
right is an open door that leads into a laundry room, and then to a service door to the
outside. A movement catches his eye -- through the window above the sink he sees the dark
figure of A MAN stealthily crossing the the yard outside, carrying a container of some
sort. Sam rushes into the kitchen -- Libby follows --
INT. — KITCHEN
They both choke on the thick, pungent air. Sam quickly turns off a few burners, and --
SAM
Get the rest of these off, then go to the
lobby... call the fire department... I’m
going after Hawkins!
Libby thrusts a fire
extinguisher into his arms --
LIBBY
Take this!
With no time to debate, Sam
takes it -- and as he runs toward the far door with the extinguisher and his
cane --
LIBBY
Be careful, Samuel!
CUT TO:
EXT. HAWKINS HOME - BACK YARD -
NIGHT
Sam exits through the laundry room service door -- he pauses, squinting into the darkness
across the yard -- he spots the MAN just as he turns the east corner of the long building
and disappears. Sam takes out after him --
EXT. — BACK YARD - ANOTHER ANGLE
With an old man’s hitching gait, and carrying the extinguisher, Sam lopes with his
cane as fast as he can across the yard toward the end of the building -- As he reaches the
east wing corner he spots --
SAM’S P.O.V. — SIDE OF HOME AT GLASS EMERGENCY EXIT DOOR
A little more than halfway down the unlit east side of the building, the MAN is just
turning a key in the lock of the glass emergency exit door. He opens it, and slips inside
with the large square container he carries.
EXT. — BACK TO SAM
Sam yells in a gravelly voice --
SAM
Hey! Hey, you!
Then takes off again --
EXT. — AT THE EMERGENCY EXIT
Just as Sam reaches the door, it has swung shut with the resolute click of the latch. Sam
pushes on the metal bar -- it wont budge -- the door is secure. Through the glass he can
see the near door to the supply room is open, jutting out into the hallway. Sam looks
around helplessly for a beat --
INT. EAST WING HALL - CLOSE ON GLASS EMERGENCY DOOR
Suddenly something flies at the door from outside -- it hits with a crashing force -- the
glass implodes, shattering into the hallway as the FIRE EXTINGUISHER bullets past CAMERA!
INT. ANOTHER ANGLE
Using his cane, Sam quickly swipes the jutting shards from the bottom frame of the door,
and ducks under the metal bar into the dark hallway -- just as the silhouette of the MAN
steps out from behind the open supply room door. A beat -- then the dark figure goes for
him! Sam parries left, but his 76 year old reflexes are slow -- a fist cracks his jaw and
a
punch to his midsection sends him flying backward, his old bones hitting the wall with a
rib—crushing thud!
CLOSER ON SAM
Sam slides down the wall, glass crunching under him as he crumples to the floor. The MAN
stands over Sam -- a beat -- then grabs his feet and starts dragging him across the glass
strewn floor towards the supply room. With dazed eyes he looks up to --
OBSERVER
The fire extinguisher, Sam!
Use the fire extinguisher!
ANOTHER ANGLE
Al watches anxiously as Sam is dragged past the fire
extinguisher --
OBSERVER
Grab it, Sam...now!
In one swift move, Sam reaches
out, grabs it, aims, and fires! The MAN drops Sam’s legs, recoiling with a howl as
the noxious foam hits him forcefully in the face -- Sam struggles quickly to his feet,
still shooting, relentlessly pummeling the mans face and head with the thick white lather.
The MAN backs into the wall, drops to his knees, overwhelmed -- hands desperately trying
to clear a breathing space. Sam pauses in his assault. The MAN urgently clears his mouth,
and takes in a lung—full of air. Coughing and
sputtering, he slumps in defeat against the wall behind him, wiping at his face. Exhausted
and in pain, Sam leans against the opposite hallway wall -- A beat. He looks at Al and
sighs. The door to the utility hall opens -- LIBBY, MALCOLM, A NURSE, BURT, and a few
other residents in nightclothes crowd in. LIBBY
gasps --
LIBBY
That's not Robert Hawkins... that's
Gracie’s boy, Steven!
Sam looks down at his defeated
adversary -- he’s managed to wipe most of the foam from his face -- the same
unsmiling face that glares out from the photograph in Gracie’s room. Steven looks at
Sam, then Libby and the rest --
STEVEN
It was Diane’s idea! She planned the whole
thing.
(a beat, then)
You’ve seen my mother! I had to do it!
All that money... she and that lawyer of
hers, they were just giving it all away...
scholarships, charities... Greenpeace, for
chrissakes! But it’s mine... I’ve waited
for it... and it was all going to be gone!
He focuses on Malcolm and the
nurse -- the only ones there besides him who are under the age of sixty—
five --
STEVEN
(weakly)
Hey, they're old. They were gonna die
soon anyway...
A small voice behind the crowd
suddenly cries out -- Then --
GRACIE
Let me through...
Gracie pushes through to the
front of the group -- she walks over and looks down at Steven. He watches her with dread,
then looks away and refuses to meet her eyes. As she stares at him, great pain, sorrow,
then prideful anger cross her face. She stands up straight and tall -- looks to Sam --
GRACIE
That’s not Stevie, you know. My Stevie is
dead.
Sam looks at her sadly -- Al
shakes his head -- In the
distance we hear the wailing SCREAM of approaching SIRENS.
CUT TO:
INT. HAWKINS HOME —
RECEPTION LOBBY — NIGHT
The lobby is a flurry of activity — UNIFORMED FIREMEN and POLICE OFFICERS walk in and
out through the hall passageways on either side of the room — a number of RESIDENTS
mill about the periphery, talking excitedly to one another. Near the reception desk,
LIEUTENANT MAHEW talks to an obviously upset ROSALIND HAWKINS. TWO UNIFORMED COPS lead the
hancuffed STEVEN DAVISON from the east wing hall toward the front lobby doors. CAMERA
finds SAM and LIBBY who sit on a couch talking to an OFFICER who stands in front of them
writing on a pad --
OFFICER
(clicks his pen)
Okay. Thank you, folks.
(then to Sam)
By the way... that was pretty swift action
Mr. Burkowitz... not bad for an old guy.
The Officer heads off -- Sam
shakes his head, smiling at the qualified compliment. ROSALIND has broken from MAHEW and
approaches them --
ROSALIND
Noble... Libby... why didn’t you tell me?
If you suspected something like this, why
didn’t you come to me:
SAM
I thought it was you. I thought you were
in it for the insurance money.
The hurt shows in her eyes. She
sighs.
ROSALIND
I’m sorry you thought that.
(a beat)
I know I don't appear to be the warmest
person in the world. But I care. I care
about all of you... very much.
Sam watches as she turns --
SAM
Rosalind...
(she turns)
I’m sorry. I believe you do care.
Rosalind looks at him a beat,
then smiles. She turns and walks away. Libby takes Sam’s hand. He looks at her --
LIBBY
You’re going away now, aren’t you Samuel?
SAM
(he nods)
Yeah. I am.
LIBBY
Couldn’t you stay... just a little longer?
SAM
It’s not really up to me, Libby.
LIBBY
(a beat)
No... of course not.
SAM
Noble’s coming back, you know.
LIBBY
I assume he'll be the same as he was
before...
SAM
I’m sorry...
LIBBY
(big sigh)
Well, then I’ll just have to take care of
him, like always.
(a beat, she smiles)
I’m going to miss you, Samuel.
The blue corona starts to
shimmer around Sam -- he reacts to the familiar feeling -- kisses Libby on the cheek
quickly -- Libby blushes, and squeezes his
hand --
LIBBY
Put in a good word upstairs for this old
woman...
SAM
(he smiles warmly)
I don't see any old woman.
And the corona swells with a luminous flash as Sam
QUANTUM LEAPS.
FADE OUT
END OF ACT FOUR
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