Prayers to Broken Stones (27 page)

BOOK: Prayers to Broken Stones
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Triumphant but exhausted, Louis sits on the edge of his bed. Dr. Hubbard removes his pipe and leans forward to grab the young man by his upper arms.

DR. HUBBARD

All right, Louis, I’ve listened to your fantasies and allowed your assumptions. Now will you listen to my theory?

Louis nods, totally drained of energy.

DR. HUBBARD

My theory is that you’re
very
concerned about your mother and very upset that she has cancer. In addition, you have a serious subdural hematoma that is creating low grade hallucinations. Your concern about your mother is dictating the form of these hallucinations.

(pauses, decides to be blunt)

Louis, be honest … your father’s death from cancer when you were a boy
changed
you … I remember a happy boy … outgoing … generous … in recent years you’ve been withdrawn, moody, your behavior alternating between dangerously reckless and near-paranoid.

(beat)

I know you’d love to see … a
thing
 … something solid … something you could fight rather than the intangible assassin of cells running amok. But it’s an hallucination, Louis … a visual malfunction … and the sooner you admit it, the sooner you can get well so you can help your
mother
get well.

Louis is staring at the doctor. He manages to nod.

DR. HUBBARD

(flushed, chewing on his pipe to calm down)

Good. Now Mr. Winters is having his radiation treatment about now. The same sort of treatment your mother will be receiving in a few days. Would you care to see it?

Still staring, Louis nods again.

DR. HUBBARD

Fine. Now you have to try to be sensible. No more nonsense about cancer vampires.

(he smiles)

It could upset Mr. Winters and the other patients on the floor.

Louis nods again.

DR. HUBBARD

Excellent. Then I’ll go see if we’re ready to start his treatment. We’ll send an orderly up for you.

(he realizes that the pipe is in his mouth, removes it, and smiles)

Now, don’t you feel better, Louis?

Louis nods a final time. Then, in a very tight shot, from Louis’s P.O.V., we are in E.C.U. of Dr. Hubbard’s face: his mouth is slightly open, showing white teeth, healthy gums, and a hint of tongue. From beneath that tongue comes first the fleshy antennae and then the green-gray body of a tumor slug. It moves farther out and then withdraws, as if burrowing from the light.

FADE OUT

FADE IN on: ACT III

8. INTERIOR. RADIOLOGY TREATMENT AND CONTROL ROOM. DAY.

Louis has been wheeled into the Radiology Control Room in a wheelchair but now he stands to peer through a thick window into the Treatment Room where Jack Winters lies on the treatment couch under the overhanging eye of a massive supervoltage cobalt 60 machine. Jack Winters looks small and frail and terribly vulnerable as he lies on the treatment couch—parts of his body shielded by lead “molds”, his upper torso bare with a target outline drawn on his upper chest in bright dye, an unsubtle + centered
where the powerful X-rays will penetrate. We can see Jack breathing rapidly, shallowly, his emaciated chest rising and falling, his skin offering almost the only color in a vast Treatment Room which is mostly white machinery and black and white tile fading into black shadows. Dr. Hubbard is in the Control Room with Louis and a RADIATION THERAPIST who stands next to the complicated controls.

DR. HUBBARD

This will be Mr. Winters’ next-to-last session. We believe that the tumors are responding very nicely to treatment.

(glances at Louis)

Radiation treatment and chemotherapy have come a long way since the days of your father’s illness.

The therapist taps controls while watching his monitors and the massive machine above Jack Winters hums, moves, and lowers its ominous “eye” to a firing position just above the + on the old man’s upper chest. A light from the machine snaps on and illuminates the target area.

LOUIS

(clearing his throat, obviously impressed and a bit frightened)

How much radiation does Jack have to receive to beat the cancer?

DR. HUBBARD

We estimate that seven thousand rads should be sufficient to sterilize this tumor.

LOUIS

(turning away from the window)

Seven thousand rads? That sounds like a lot. How much is a rad?

DR. HUBBARD

Well, to give you an idea … a regular chest X-ray … such as you received when you were
brought in after your accident the other day … would expose you to about five millirem … that’s a total of about five
thousandths
of a single rad.

LOUIS

My God … and Jack has to receive
seven thousand rads
 … a million times as much.

(he looks back through the window at the waiting man)

How can he take it?

DR. HUBBARD

In small doses. A single dose of seven
hundred
rads would be fatal to about half the people who received it. So we parcel it out … a bit at a time … and still there are side effects.

(quickly, to avoid Louis dwelling on the negative)

But the principle of radiation treatment is well-proven, Louis. The benefits are well-documented.

LOUIS

(lost in thought as he stares at Jack alone in the other room)

And my mother will be receiving these treatments?

DR. HUBBARD

Depending upon post-surgical recovery and results of other biopsies … yes.

(he nods to the radiation therapist)

We’re ready …

The radiation therapist throws the switch. Louis is startled as violet radiation fills the window, bathes his face in light.

LOUIS

I
see
it!

DR. HUBBARD

The actual radiation is invisible, of course.

The radiation
is
visible. Visible to Louis, at least. We share his altered vision as the Treatment Room is filled with a brilliant violet radiation, centering on the cobalt 60 machine’s lens but arcing and pulsing in wild geometries as the radiation leaps from the machine to Jack. The others see none of this but we CLOSE ON Louis’s startled face, painted violet in reflected light, and see the sudden shock and revulsion as the TUMOR SLUGS begin to slide out of Jack’s chest.

LOUIS

Look! The …

(he bites off his exclamation before tipping off Dr. Hubbard)

DR. HUBBARD

What, Louis?

LOUIS

(attempting a smile)

Nothing. Nothing at all.

The tumor slugs emerge, attracted by the bright light from the cobalt 60 machine. First one, then a second, then a third … They emerge from Jack’s chest—some completely, some only partially—as if they are drawn irresistibly to the glow. The radiation therapist throws a switch. The hum disappears and the explosion of violet light fades and dies. The tumor slugs that emerged completely have shriveled and died … the survivors burrow back into flesh once again.

LOUIS

(unable to contain himself)

There wasn’t enough time … not enough radiation!

DR. HUBBARD

(checks a dial)

Twenty-eight point six seconds. Precisely enough for this treatment.

Louis begins to explain but sees Dr. Hubbard watching him carefully. Louis shuts up. He is thinking quickly.

LOUIS

What … what is the source of the radiation?

RADIATION THERAPIST

In this case, radioisotopes of Cobalt 60.

LOUIS

Can I see them?

The radiation therapist glances at Dr. Hubbard and the oncologist nods, still humoring his young patient. The therapist goes to a wall safe, casually runs through a brief combination—we see Louis watching carefully and we also catch the numbers, 17-right, 43-left, 11-right—and then the therapist dons ridiculously thick gloves, opens the thick vault door, and removes one of several heavy lead storage cylinders emblazoned with the international warning symbol for radiation hazard.

LOUIS

Are those the isotopes?

DR. HUBBARD

These are their shielded lead storage units. The actual isotopes are tiny … but dangerous. One isotope would power the cobalt 60 machine for many hours. Each … unshielded … would deliver several thousand rads
at once.

LOUIS

How are the isotopes loaded into the machine?

DR. HUBBARD

Very, very carefully. Remote mechanical handlers. Lead aprons. Lead shielding … it’s quite complicated. Have you seen enough?

(he nods for the therapist to return the isotope to safe keeping)

Louis looks through the window at Jack. The old man is shivering slightly from the cold. He turns his head toward the window and smiles. The dead and blackened tumor slugs are still visible on his bare chest.

LOUIS

(to himself)

Yes … I’ve seen enough.

CUT TO:

9. INT. NIGHT. LOUIS’S HOSPITAL ROOM

Louis comes awake with a start. It is dark. From somewhere down the hall comes a soft chime and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on tile. But it is a closer sound which has awakened Louis. The SLURPING is coming from behind Jack’s curtain … an even louder, ruder noise than that of the night before.

LOUIS

(groggily, still half asleep)

Jack?

Louis slides back the curtains. Jack is dead, mouth agape, fingers curled into rigid claws, eyes wide and staring. The SLURPING, SLIDING noise comes from tumor slugs sliding on and around his body … his pajamas writhe and ripple from their movement and some are spilling from the gaps in his pajama tops. A cancer vampire squats over the corpse, head lowered, proboscis deep
inside
Jack’s chest like some nightmarish mosquito drinking its fill. The SLURPING is very loud.

LOUIS

Ahhh …

The cancer vampire lifts its face. Tumor slugs drip from its long snout … one slides up the opening with a RASPING sound. The cancer vampire
looks
directly at Louis, its caked, yellow eyes peering myopically.

LOUIS

Uh-uh … 
uh-uh …

Louis fumbles on his littered dinner tray, finds a knife, and throws it with all of his strength. It strikes the chest of the cancer vampire with a soft, rotten sound, but instead of sticking it sinks into the pulpy flesh like a dropped utensil floating in a pool of mucus. The cancer vampire idly extracts the knife with long fingers and casts it aside. It has not been hurt. It raises a hand toward Louis.

LOUIS

No … uh-uh …

Louis stumbles out of the bed backward, knocking over the IV stand, crashing into the tray table and sending the vase of flowers flying as he edges along the wall, staying as far away from the cancer vampire as possible while heading for the door. We MOVE IN on the cancer vampire’s yellow, blind eyes, its head turning, as we hear Louis’s footfalls receding down the empty corridor.

CUT TO:

10. INT. NIGHT. RADIOLOGY CONTROL ROOM.

Louis staggers into the dark room, remains panting at the doorway for a moment. There is no pursuit. Looking around, he snaps on a single low-wattage lamp above the control board. The adjoining Treatment Room is in total darkness. He looks around wildly, sees the safe with the radiation symbol, and takes deep breaths to calm down.
He knows what he has to do. He fiddles with the dial. In E.C.U. we see 17-right, 43-left, 11-right. The safe door swings open and Louis steps back, shocked at how easy it was. Inside the safe, the lead storage cylinders sit like small bombs. Louis glances over his shoulder, then looks around until he finds the heavy gloves. Donning them, he removes the cylinders and sets them carefully on a table.

DISSOLVE TO:

11. INT. NIGHT. RADIOLOGY CONTROL ROOM.

Louis is crouching by the table so that only his head and shoulders are visible. The storage cylinders rise in front of him. The rest is darkness. Still wearing the heavy gloves, he fumbles with the complicated latch and lid on the first cylinder.

LOUIS

Damn.

He tugs off his gloves, easily breaks the seal, flips the latch, and removes the lid. A fierce violet light illuminates his face. The glow becomes even brighter as he shakes the radioisotope into his bare hand. The pellet is small but incredibly brilliant—a point source of blazing light. He lifts it with both hands.

LOUIS

(whispering)

There’s got to be another way.

(beat)

But I don’t know what it is …

Louis takes a breath and lifts the isotope higher with shaking hands. There is an element of the sacramental to his motions—a radioactive Communion service. He swallows the cobalt 60 pellet, struggles to keep from gagging, and keeps it down.

LOUIS

Ah, God …

He opens another storage cylinder, lifts the isotope. The light in the room begins to fade …

DISSOLVE TO:

12. INT. NIGHT. LOUIS’S MOTHER’S ROOM.

We see a close shot of Louis’s mother—her head on the pillow—as she moans in her sleep, turning fitfully, perhaps on the verge of coming out of the sedative-induced sleep. We move down her shoulder to her arm, her hand. Suddenly a huge, misshapen form comes into the frame and clumsily enfolds her hand. It is Louis’s hand, again in the heavy radiation glove. We PULL BACK and see Louis as he sits by her bedside, holding her hand in the dark room. Lightning ripples soundlessly outside the window.

LOUIS

(very softly)

I remember once when I was a kid … it must have been just after Dad died … I woke up on a stormy night like this and found you sitting on the edge of my bed … like you were protecting me from the storm.

The lightning illuminates the room again. Louis quickly looks around. There is no sign of the cancer vampire.

LOUIS

I pretended I was asleep, but I wanted to tell you that
nobody
could protect
anybody.
Not from the storm … not from what killed Dad …

(beat)

I wanted to tell you then that all a person could do was
run …
run from the people you loved the most … run so that it didn’t hurt so much when you couldn’t protect them.

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