"Dangerous Games"
Written by: Linda Ford and Lyricist
Directed by: Mitch Nozka
Producer(s): Lea Ames and Linda Ford
Creative Consultant: CoronetBlue
Post Production: Brixius and Linda Ford
Creator: Roy Huggins
PROLOGUE
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - I-70 BRIDGE - EARLY JAN. 2002 - MORNING
A tractor-trailer rig is crossing the I-70 bridge into St. Louis. The camera focuses on the driver, a heavyset older man, who is concentrating on maneuvering the 18-wheeler in the eight-lane traffic. He takes a moment to glance over at the man in the passenger seat. Richard Kimble— looking younger than usual, with highlights in his dark hair—is leaning his head against the window, catching a much-needed nap.
"Hey, Buddy," the driver says loudly, then reaches over quickly to shake Kimble on the shoulder. "We're almost into St. Louis. You don't want to miss the view!"
Kimble opens deep brown eyes and looks around groggily. "What?"
"The mighty Mississippi and the Gateway Arch! I never drive through here without getting a thrill."
Kimble stares up at the top of the Arch as the truck speeds over the bridge. The driver, in a talkative mood, continues. "I remember as a kid when they were building the Arch—630 feet high! I read all about it in National Geographic. Talked my dad into bringing us here on vacation just so I could see it. We arrived and found out it was still under construction. One of the biggest disappointments of my life! It was years before I finally took the ride to the top, but what a view!" Giving Kimble another glance, he asks, "You in town to sightsee?"
Kimble peels off his new down jacket, not needing it now that the sun is fully up. "No, I'm looking for a job. Any idea where I could find one?"
The driver shrugs his shoulders. "You might try the Trans World Dome just ahead. That place is huge. They've got to be hiring all the time."
"What's the Trans World Dome?"
"Not a St. Louis Rams fan, huh?" the driver chuckles. "Look, I'll drop you off there if you like. No trouble, I go right past it."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate it," Kimble replies, reaching for his duffle bag.
ILLINOIS WOMEN'S CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - THAT MORNING
Becca Ross, dressed in her prison blue uniform is sitting be-hind the table in the visiting room. Arms crossed and face defiant, she waits to see her visitor. The door opens and Agent Hilliard walks confidently in and stands on the other side of the table.
"Eve Hilliard, FBI," Eve introduces herself.
Taken aback to see someone other than Captain Philip Gerard,
Becca quickly recovers. "To what do I owe this honor?"
Hilliard crosses her arms as well. "Let's not start off on the wrong foot, Ms. Ross," she advises.
"You work for Captain Gerard, though, don't you?" Becca asks istrustfully.
Eve nods.
"Well, I guess we have nothing to say to each other, then." Becca rises to leave.
"Maybe you should take a look at this first." Reaching into her pocket, Eve throws an employee ID card down on the table. Curious in spite of herself, Becca turns and studies it briefly, then her eyes widen and she sits again, struggling to maintain her composure.
"You've seen him before?" Eve asks, watching her closely. "Tell me who he is."
Becca looks away. "He's nobody."
"Your brother-in-law was searching for him in Milwaukee last week. Do you know why?"
At the mention of Kimble, Becca turns around sharply. "Have you seen Richard? Is he OK?"
Hilliard walks towards the window, as though uninterested. "I don't know. I missed Kimble. But I saw Mr. Walsh there." Turning back to Becca, she says, "Or should I say, Smith282?"
Uncertain how to answer, Becca stalls. "You work for Gerard. Is that what he thinks?"
"Gerard doesn't think Smith282 exists. He thinks Kimble was going schizophrenic and sending emails to you as Smith282—playing with your mind."
"Gerard is the one with mental problems, not Richard!" Becca rejoins forcefully. Hilliard pulls up a chair and sits down, resting her folded hands on the table. "Tell me what you know, Becca."
THE STORY
ST. LOUIS - TRANS WORLD DOME - THE LOBBY
The main entrance of the Trans World Dome is temporarily empty and silent. Banners hang from the ceiling, advertis-ing "TrueValue". On the carpet is the message "Challenge the Future" in red, white, and blue.
THE MAIN OFFICE
In the main office, off the lobby, Richard Kimble is talking to a short bald-headed man.
"Well, Ted, it looks like you've got yourself a job. I shouldn't really do this until I see all your paperwork, but I'm in a real bind right now. Two guys are off sick with winter flu." He rises from his desk. "Let's get your picture taken for your ID card."
"Picture?" Kimble repeats nervously.
"Yeah, everyone has to have an identification badge here. In a big facility like this, we need to observe extra security."
Taking out a digital camera, he snaps Kimble's photo. "Your card will be ready to pick up tomorrow. In the meanwhile, put on this temporary one." He takes a badge from the drawer and hands it to Kimble, who fastens it to his sweater. "You'll get those other ID papers to me as soon as you can, Ted?" he asks, looking at Kimble for confirmation.
Kimble nods. "Yes, Mr. Pendergast."
"Charlie, please. I don't stand on form." The man turns back to the pile of papers on his desk. "Damned terrorists! Pretty soon I'll have to do a background check just to hire a janitor!" he growls. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour." Charlie ushers Kimble out of the office.
THE DOME ARENA
Kimble and Pendergast enter and look out over the center of the Dome, which houses a football field.
"The Dome is a convention center first, a sports facility second— regardless of what the Rams fans say." Charlie's voice seems unnaturally loud in the vastness of the arena. "We can seat 70,000 people, 10,000 on the floor alone. But we can empty this place in 11 minutes! Having the MetroBus station right outside minimizes the parking problems a lot." Surveying the huge space under the dome, he adds proudly, "This place was packed when the Pope was here back in '99."
He sees Kimble eyeing the artificial turf.
"I bet you want to know how we get rid of that for concerts. We call it the Magic Carpet. One hundred thousand pounds of astro-turf! It gets pulled out by hydraulic winches. To reduce the friction, it floats on a bed of air. We can retract the whole thing in 3 hours. With the old-fashioned zippered turf, it would take up to 18 hours. If you stick around long enough, you'll really appreciate that."
"I'm impressed," Kimble tells him.
Charlie smiles sheepishly. "Well, I guess I've bragged enough. Let's go find Nate. I'll let him show you the ropes."
ILLINOIS WOMEN'S CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - VISITOR'S ROOM
Becca Ross stands glaring at Agent Hilliard. "Why should I tell you anything? You and Gerard have it all figured out!" Hilliard leans back in her chair. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"You really think I'll fall for your 'I'm your friend' routine? You don't want to help Richard. You just want another notch on your belt so you can claw your way to the top! I've worked in the business world, Miss Hilliard. I've seen plenty of nasty office politics. I've even played the game myself. And won. So don't try to con me...if you'll pardon the pun."
Eve sighs and sits up straight. "OK, let's stop playing games. I'll tell you my information and then you decide what to tell me in return. Sound fair?"
Becca's curiosity gets the best of her. "Fine. Shoot."
"I assume that's another pun?" asks Hilliard, smiling briefly. "OK, here's what I know. Someone…and I'm keeping an open mind about who…someone calling himself Smith282 was sending you emails last spring, someone who claimed to have been there and witnessed Helen Kimble's murder. Someone who wanted $50,000 as a payoff to testify to what he saw, IF the alleged one-armed man was eliminated first. You apparently believed him enough to offer him $25,000 up front and set up a meeting, which may or may not have taken place. Now it seems Dr.
Kimble is searching for a two-armed man and I'm curious as to why. From the look on your face when you saw that picture, I think you know. Would you care to enlighten me?"
Becca remains silent.
"OK, I'll keep going. I checked out this Bill Walsh. He left plenty of prints behind. His real name is Buzz Wallace. He's
got a long record of minor crimes and petty theft. Not smart enough or nasty enough to join the big time, but he hangs around with some bad people." Look-ing at Becca, Hilliard says, "Your turn, Ms. Ross."
Becca still remains silent, pondering how much to reveal.
"Your turn," Hilliard repeats pointedly.
At that, Becca explodes out of her chair, knocking it over backwards. Planting her fists on the table, she yells, "You think this is some kind of game? Well, it isn't to me. My sister is dead. My brother-in-law's life has been destroyed. My relationship
with my father, little as it was, is history. And my life? It's a shambles." She glares at Eve. "I'd do anything, ANYTHING, to see Helen's murderer brought to justice!"
Eve looks her in the eye. "Anything but talk to me?"
ST. LOUIS - TRANS WORLD DOME - A HALLWAY
A young man in his early twenties comes running down the hallway towards Kimble and Pendergast. He has floppy bangs, a pierced eyebrow and a nose stud.
"That's him now," Charlie tells Kimble.
"Hey, Charlie! Sorry I'm late. I got tied up in traffic," Nate announces breathlessly.
"Yeah, yeah," acknowledges the older man. "Nate, meet our newest hire, Ted Bennett. He'll be filling in for Ryan and Mike." Turning to Kimble he says, "Ted, this is Nate Porter."
Nate slaps Kimble's hand. "Nice to meet ya. My friends call me Sticks."
"Sticks?" Kimble asks.
"Yeah, on account of I always carry my sticks with me." Pulling a pair of drumsticks from his side pocket, Nate proceeds to beat a lively rhythm on every available surface.
"Practice at home, Sticks, not in the hallways," Charlie says tolerantly as they stop outside his office.
"You watch, Charlie. Someday me and my band will be playing a gig at the Dome," Nate attests with youthful conviction.
"Yeah, right," Charlie responds, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "In the meantime, how about showing Ted where the supplies are and cleaning out those restrooms. And put your ID badge on."
Pendergast goes into his office, and Kimble follows Nate across the lobby.
"This job has the greatest perks in the world," the young man comments enthusiastically, as they pass a poster for the Dave Matthews Band. "All the free concerts you want—Dave Matthews Band plays here this Spring. Last year we had U2. The place was packed, and that's saying something!"
"Is that why you work here, Sticks? For the concerts?" Kimble asks.
"Sure, that and to earn enough money for a better amp, bigger speakers and a 600W power mixer for my band. I'm not planning on being a janitor forever." Gesturing to a large Creed poster with the words 'Sold Out' across it, he adds, "I'd like that to be me someday." He laughs. "Well...I can dream, can't I? Hey, if you're working this week, you'll get to see Creed in concert. They're playing this Thursday night."
"Creed?" Kimble asks cluelessly. "What kind of music do they play?"
Nate hoots. "Where have you been lately? Think Pearl Jam and Aerosmith. It's head-banging rock. I'm psyched to hear Scott Phillips live on drums!" As they reach the stairs to the lower level, Nate gets out his sticks again and begins to tap mercilessly on the banister.
Kimble suppresses a smile.
ILLINOIS WOMEN'S CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - VISITOR'S ROOM
Eve Hilliard and Becca Ross are standing in a face-off across the table.
"I know you think you know all about me, Ms. Ross, but you're wrong. I don't collect notches on a belt. I catch dangerous criminals and get them off the streets to save innocent lives. And if I want a promotion, it's not because I'm on some power trip. I happen to think I can do the job better than a lot of other people, and I want a chance to do it. I also try to keep an open mind, unlike some people I work with. So don't pre-judge me. For starters, I'm convinced the One-Armed Man exists."
Becca's resistance collapses. She rights her chair and sits down. "I can tell you this: there was another email, one that Gerard doesn't know about. Smith claimed they were going to kidnap me the night of the murder, but because I worked late that night and went out to supper, they chose Helen instead."
"They?"
"Smith and Charnquist—the One-Armed Man."
Eve is taken aback by this information. "You wouldn't still have a copy of that email?"
"No, my hard drive crashed. I lost everything."
Trying to appear nonchalant, Hilliard sits down. "I'm curious, Ms. Ross. Why would you offer $25,000 to some unidentified stranger who sent you an email? What made you think his story was genuine?"
"Richard believed him."
"Kimble talked to him?" Eve asks, leaning forward in her chair. "Why should he believe Smith?"
"Because of the lock."
"Lock?" Eve's expression is puzzled.
"He described the trouble they had breaking the lock on the balcony door. Richard said it was the same kind of lock he had just installed."
Hilliard sits back again. "I'm sure you know there was no evidence of a break-in, Ms. Ross."
"Yes, I know that, Ms. Hilliard. So it would be pretty stupid of me to make up a story about one, wouldn't it?"
"Do you believe this Smith character?"
"Yes!" Becca says emphatically.
"Because of the lock?" Eve's tone is skeptical.
"No, because Richard and I met with Smith in Baltimore and I recognized him as the same man I saw lurking outside my office building the night Helen was murdered."
Eve is silent for a few seconds. "So, if you paid him, why didn't he come forward to testify?"
"We were unable to trap Charnquist. The police had him, but they let him go."
"Why?"
A frustrated Becca shakes her head. "I don't know."
"I'm sure you realize that's a pretty unprovable story, Ms. Ross." Eve says, standing up and heading for the door.
Becca calls after her, "Maybe so. But it does answer your question about why Richard is looking for the man in the photo, doesn't it?"
Hilliard's face lights up, realizing Becca has given her the confirmation she has been seeking. Then, remembering the second purpose for her visit, her eyes narrow and she turns back. "By the way, Ms. Ross, do you know anything about a man named Gagomiros?"
ST. LOUIS - THE DOME ARENA - LATER THAT AFTERNOON
Kimble is sweeping down one of the stairways in the huge center of the Dome. Beside him is a large garbage bag. As he moves along, he picks up debris left under the seats.
Nate cleans sporadically, stopping occasionally to try out a new drumbeat.
Kimble wipes off the last of the seats in his section and stands up straight, rubbing his back wearily. In the section above, Nate sees him and yells, "How did you finish so fast?"
"I don't drum on the seats while I'm cleaning them," Kimble replies evenly, climbing up the stairs to join him. "Let me help you finish and we can call it a day."
"Thanks, man."
Together they complete the last row. Nate beats a final drum roll on the end seat, then caps it off with a resounding flourish on the railing.
Kimble smiles. "That's pretty good."
"Like I said, someday it will be my band playing here."
"Well, when that happens, I'll expect front-row tickets." Kimble picks up the cleaning supplies.
Nate pockets his sticks. "I can do better than that. How about a pizza?"
"Uh, no thanks, Sticks. I just got into town and I still have to find a place to stay for the night."
"Oh, OK. Say...wait a minute. Maybe I can help you. My mom's been talking about renting the room over the garage. That's where we jam, but she wants the band moved out so she can make a little extra money. It's a bit crowded right now with all our band equipment, but there's a sleeper sofa and a small fridge."
"Sounds fine...if it's alright with your mother."
"Let me call and see." As they walk back to the supply room, Sticks pulls a cell phone from his back pocket and phones home. "Mom, it's me. I've got a renter for the garage. Can I bring him over tonight? ...No, Mom, he doesn't have a pierced eyebrow, or anything! In fact, he looks a lot like Uncle Frank..." As he listens, Nate gives Kimble a thumbs up.
"Great, you're the best, Mom." He hangs up. "It's all set, BUT my mother wants to meet you first. Don't worry, she'll like you. Oh, shoot, I forgot—there's one problem. We've got a gig tomorrow, so we need to practice there tonight."
Kimble laughs. "Then I guess I'll get to hear you play some real drums."
"Very funny!" Sticks grins, slipping the cell phone back in his pocket.
THE ROOM OVER THE PORTER GARAGE - THAT EVENING
Nate is helping Kimble open the sofa bed. Handing him some clean sheets and towels, he says, "See, I told you Mom would like you. She just worries a lot about who I hang out with. She's really paranoid about drugs and stuff."
Kimble stops spreading the sheets to look up. "She's right. Drugs are nothing to mess with."
Nate holds out his hands in self-defense. "I hear you. I wouldn't touch the stuff, but well, rock band musicians have a bad rep."
Voices are heard coming up the steps. There is a knock on the door. Sticks turns. "The guys are here."
He opens the door to let in a group of young people. "Hey, all! We've got a visitor for our session tonight. This is Ted Bennett—he's working with me at the Dome. Ted's renting the garage,
but it's cool. He doesn't mind if we practice here." Sticks turns to Kimble. "This is Mickey and Kevin. They play guitar. And this is Shelly. She plays keyboard and sings lead."
Kimble nods, "Hi."
The kids smile awkwardly back. "Hey, man." Mickey and Kevin plug in their guitars and begin to tune them.
Two younger, high school girls gawk at Kimble from the doorway.
"Oh, and that's Amy—Mickey's sister—and her friend, Dina," Nate explains. "You two going to stay and listen to us practice?"
"No, thanks, Sticks," Amy replies, begging off. "Dina and I are on the way to the mall. We'll be back later. Nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett." The girls back out the door and retreat down the steps.
"Now you're going to hear some music!" Nate promises, sitting at the drums. "Turn up the amp, Mickey." Kimble prepares himself for a noisy evening.
IN THE CAR ON THE WAY TO THE MALL - MOMENTS LATER
Amy is driving with the radio on loud enough to be heard by other drivers. She looks over at Dina with a concerned frown. "So, what's happening, Dina? You seem really stressed these days."
"It's nothing... No, it's everything," Dina replies. She puts her feet up on the glove compartment. "It's such a mess at home right now. My Dad lost his job again and he's having a real hard time finding another one. Mom says he's not trying hard enough. Dad says they're not hiring people his age."
"That sucks," Amy comments.
"Yeah. And they fight all the time about money. I had to chip in half of my last wages so they could pay the mort-gage."
"That totally sucks," Amy commiserates with feeling. "I didn't realize, Dina. I'm sorry."
"And now they're not even speaking to each other." Dina's voice becomes throaty. "I can't stand being at home anymore, Amy. Really. I don't know which is worse, the yelling or the silence."
"Look, why don't you come sleep over at my house. My folks won't mind."
Dina shrugs her shoulders. "Thanks. I crash at Brian and Tony's sometimes. Let's not talk about it anymore. I just want to forget everything for a while."
"The concert's coming up," Amy says brightly, changing the topic.
"Yeah. Thursday. I wish it were tonight," Dina sighs.
Amy looks at her friend and tries her best to lighten the mood. "Mark Tremonti rules. If his guitar is anything near as amazing live as on CD, I'm just going to die," she enthuses.
"His guitar? What's wrong with you, girl? You've been around your brother too much. Surely you mean the man!" Dina exclaims, catching Amy's excitement.
"That, too! Not that you'll ever have time to notice. I know your eyes will be eating up that lucious Scott Stapp bod!" The girls dissolve in a fit of boisterous laughter.
"Oh, oh, oh! It's Creed!" Dina cries, pumping up the radio volume. They accompany the lyrics to 'Higher', singing passionately.
"...'CAUSE THERE'S A HUNGER, A LONGING TO ESCAPE FROM THE LIFE I LIVE WHEN I'M AWAKE SO LET'S GO THERE
LET'S MAKE OUR ESCAPE
COME ON, LETS GO THERE
LET'S ASK CAN WE STAY?
CAN YOU TAKE ME HIGHER?
TO THE PLACE WHERE BLIND MEN SEE
CAN YOU TAKE ME HIGHER?
TO THE PLACE WITH GOLDEN STREETS..."
THE DOME BASEMENT - THURSDAY MORNING
Nate arrives positively glowing. Kimble looks up from his locker and grins. "I never saw anyone so excited about coming into work!"
"Are you kidding?" Sticks asks, opening his locker and hanging up his jacket. "Today's the big day. In a matter of hours Creed will be here. Those trucks out there are the set-up crew. They pulled in overnight to rig the stage and sound system. You want to come up with me and take a look at what they're doing?" He slams his locker shut.
"Sure." Kimble closes his locker and follows Nate up the stairs.
THE ARENA
Kimble and Nate enter and survey the complete makeover of the arena. The astro-turf has been replaced with rows of seating. At the far end a stage and extension has been erected. The lighting technicians are snaking cables across the floor to power the huge theatrical lights.
"Man, I love this," Nate says quietly, as if there were a need to whisper. "Don't you wish you could be like them and live your life on the road?"
An odd expression passes over the fugitive's face. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," he replies soberly.
"Aw, you say that because you're old—no offense," Nate differs, "but at my age, the road is the only true freedom."
CHICAGO - GERARD'S OFFICE - THAT MORNING
Captain Gerard motions for Eve Hilliard to enter, and shuts the door behind her. "Have a seat." He resumes his chair behind the desk. "I've read your report on your visit to Becca Ross."
Eve raises an eyebrow. "She claims Smith was working with Charnquist and that Helen Kimble's murder was a botched kidnapping. I buy it."
Gerard lays his hands down flat on the desktop. "Don't you see where Kimble is going with this? He's just elaborating on his theme. If a one-armed man isn't enough to sidetrack us, why not bring in an accomplice? But I don't care how many people he wants us to believe were at the scene; forensics tells us there was only one man present—Dr. Kimble himself."
"But Becca Ross told me she and Kimble met Smith in Baltimore, and he was the same man she saw outside her office building the day of the murder. They were planning to kidnap her, but Becca worked late that night and so they went to Kimble's apartment to get Helen instead."
Gerard becomes exasperated. "Look Eve, the woman is doing two years for aiding and abetting. She'd say anything to get Kimble off."
Eve grits her teeth, resigning herself to the Captain's intractableness.
"And I can't say I approve of these off-on-a-tangent investigations of yours, especially when our budget is practically non-existent," Gerard continues.
Hilliard lifts her head. "Ms. Ross may be of some help in the FBI's investigation of Gagomiros. She remembers when he was working for her father."
Gerard brightens. "Now that, at least, is something that could prove valuable! We have yet to crack that nut. Write it up, and I'll pass it on. Maybe they can make something of it." The meeting over, he returns to the paperwork on his desk.
Hilliard stands. "I'll do that." She gives the Captain a calculating look, before letting herself out.
ST. LOUIS - BRIAN'S CAR EN ROUTE TO THE CONCERT - 6:20 PM
The city is in early winter darkness. Brian's car is full of teen-agers, with Amy and Dina in the front seat.
Dina calls out to the driver. "Hey, Brian, can you make a stop at the corner of 24th Street? I've got to pick something up from a friend."
"Sure, Dina," he says, changing to the right-hand lane. "But make it quick. The doors open at 6:30." He pulls the car over to the curb at 24th Street.
"I'll be right back," Dina assures him and runs off into the darkness.
"Where's she going?" another boy asks.
That's her business," Brian responds.
In the showers beside a building, the silhouette of a man is visible. Dina hurries up to him. They have a brief conversation, which seems to end in an argument.
Dina acquiesces and pulls something from her pocket. She counts it and hands it to him. he in turn passes her a small envelope.
"What's she doing?" asks Amy, straining to see. "That looks like Tom Farraday. Isn't he supposed to be dealing drugs? You don't think..."
"Hey!" Brian admonishes. "Leave her alone. Who hasn't done a little experimenting?"
"Speak for yourself," Amy mutters, sitting back in the sea.
In another moment Dina returns and climbs into the car. "Let's go guys.
I want to get a place by the rail."
THE DOME - BACKSTAGE
Charlie is instructing the janitorial crew. "I want the concession areas and restrooms kept clean. With a crowd this size, that means every fifteen minutes. Remember—they're the paying customers."
Sticks is barely listening, his attention drawn to the burly men in jeans and T-shirts nearby.
"Are those bodyguards?" Kimble asks Nate in a low voice.
"No, crowd control. They stand along the front rail of the stage and prevent trouble."
A house manager appears, directing the men out onto the arena floor.
"They'll be opening the doors soon," Nate predicts. "Then it will be wall-to-wall people."
A small entourage with IDs enters from the other direction. Nate jabs Kimble in the side. "That's them!"
"Who?" Kimble begins to ask, when Charlie suddenly steps forward.
"Charlie Pendergast," he beams, his bald head shining. "Service staff. Anything you need from our people, I can deliver."
"Wonderful, thank you," a woman in a suit responds cordially
"Mind if I get a picture with the boys?" Charlie asks, holding up a pocket camera. The woman turns to four casually dressed young men. The obvious leader smiles obligingly. "Our pleasure."
Charlie quickly hands Sticks the camera and steps in between the mem-bers of the band.
Trying to keep his excited fingers steady, Nate takes the shot. In an-other instant the entourage has moved on and he is left staring wish-fully after them.
Charlie is all business now. "To work!" he commands, clapping his hands.
"Sticks," Kimble says, touching Nate lightly on the shoulder to snap him out of it
Reluctantly, Nate turns to thejanitorial task at hand.
OUTSIDE THE DOME - THE MAIN ENTRANCE- 6:30 PM
A long row of cars is approaching the front entrance of the Dome. A half dozen charter buses are already parked in the special parking area.
Brian stops his car by the main doors. "I'm going to let everyone out here," he shouts, "while I go around and park." The teens pile out and join the crowd of young people filing into the Dome.
"Are you coming down front with us, Tony?" Amy asks.
"You girls just want to scream your heads off at the band," Tony remarks knowingly. "I'll pass." "Your loss!" she taunts.
THE DOME CONCESSION AREA - 7:00 PM
Kimble is sweeping the floor, which is already littered with wrappers and ticket envelopes. He is ignored by the concert-goers and might as well be invisible.
Amy and Dina, wearing arm bands to allow them onto the arena floor, pass him without a second glance. Kimble gazes after them.
IN FRONT OF THE STAGE - 7:28 PM
Amy and Dina have found standing positions by the rail at the foot of the stage. The arena is a hubbub of voices. Over the loudspeakers comes the announcement, "Two minutes to show time." The lights dim and a roar of approval goes up from the crowd.
THE CONCESSION AREA
The opening wail from the acoustic system can be heard in the hallways outside the arena. There is a smattering of applause.
"Go on in," Kimble gestures to Nate. "Take a look. I'll cover for you."
Sticks laughs. "Creed won't come on until at least 9:00. They're downstairs being fed right now and talking to the press. That's Finger Eleven, the band that opens for them." He gives Kimble a mocking, but curious look. "You don't get out much, do you? When was the last time you attended a concert?"
"You're right, it's been a while," Kimble answers.
"Well, this is your chance, man—don't spend the whole night working!" He gives a thumbs up as Kimble heads for the men's restroom.
As Kimble is about to enter with his broom, he sees Dina and Amy return and go into the women's restroom.
INSIDE THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM - MINUTES LATER
Dina is standing in front of the sink, fishing through her purse. She stops quickly when she sees Amy come out of a stall behind her in the mirror.
Amy notices Dina's furtive behavior. Worried, she washes her hands, then turns and confronts her friend. "What were you doing talking to Tom Farraday? You're not …"
Dina interrupts angrily, throwing her purse onto the counter. "Not what? Just stay out of it, Amy, OK!"
"Fine!" Amy retorts, angry in turn. "You want to really screw up your life, go right ahead." She turns and heads out the door. Dina watches her go, then retrieves a small packet from her purse. Taking out a tiny pill, she pops it in her mouth and cups her hand under the faucet to get a drink of water.
IN FRONT OF THE STAGE - INTERMISSION, 8:45 PM
Lights play over the audience as the second opening set finishes and intermission is announced.
"Creed next," Amy calls happily to Dina. When Dina doesn't respond, she catches her friend by the arm. Dina turns to face her, looking pale and nauseous. "Hey, are you OK?" Amy asks.
Dina shakes her head. "I'm fine. It's just too hot in here. I need some air."
"Let's get something cool to drink at the concession win-dow," Amy suggests.
"Whatever," Dina agrees listlessly.
They join the crowd surging for the exits.
THE CONCESSION AREA
People are thronging around the concession area. Nate
is sweeping the stairs. Seeing Amy and Dina emerge with Brian and Tony, he hails them.
"Hey, Sticks," Tony says. "Thanks for getting us the tickets to the show!"
"Are you going to join us and watch the rest of the concert?" Amy asks.
"Shhh, my boss may be around," Nate warns cheerfully. "I'm supposed to be working, you know."
"Oh, yeah, right," Brian says.
"I've got to go to the ladies room," Dina tells Amy under her breath.
"Again? OK, I'll come with you," Amy offers, wanting to stand by her friend. "Would you buy something to drink for us?" she asks Tony and hurries after Dina.
OUTSIDE THE WOMEN'S RESTROOM - 9:00 PM
There is a line outside the women's restroom and Amy and Dina are still waiting to get in. Dina appears restless and distracted.
Kimble comes out of the men's room and spots the two girls in line. Seeing Dina's pallor, he gets a look of concern.
Amy recognizes Kimble standing there and gives Dina a jerk. "Look, it's that friend of Sticks'...what's his name...Ted." She waves.
Kimble approaches. "Hi. Is everything OK?"
Before the girls can answer, the lights flicker to remind the audience to return to their seats.
"Oh, it's starting!" Amy cries.
"You go," Dina says. "I'll be alright."
"Are you sure?" Amy asks. Dina nods.
Several girls come out of the restroom and the remaining line moves inside.
"Go on!" Dina presses.
"I'll save your place!" Amy promises and hurries for the arena door. Dina goes into the restroom as the lights flicker again. The concession area is quickly cleared as the concert goers return to their seats.
Kimble looks around for Nate, then crosses to the arena door to watch the start of the main event.
THE ARENA
It is dark under the Dome, and the huge crowd is hushed in anticipation. The opening notes of 'Ode' are heard as lead singer Scott Stapp pops out of the stage floor amid flash pots and pyrotechnics.
The audience jumps to their feet, going wild. Kimble puts his hands over his ears as the megawatt sound reverberates around the Dome.
IN FRONT OF THE STAGE - 10:00 PM
Tony and Brian have joined the girls down by the stage rail. Scott Stapp, holding the microphone, movingly finishes 'My Own Prison'.
There is a quiet moment after the applause dies down. Mark Tremonti tests a note on his guitar.
"Tremonti!" Amy yells. "You rock!" Her cheer is picked up by others. Beside her, the security guards block some overzealous fans who want to hurl themselves onto the stage.
"I wish I had the guts to do that!" Amy cries into Dina's ear. She turns to her friend and is shocked to see the glazed look in Dina's eyes.
"Are you feeling worse?"
Dina nods her head.
Amy grabs hold of Tony. "I'm worried about Dina. I think she may have taken something…"
Mark Tremonti begins to play, but Amy is now too concerned to notice.
"What's wrong?" Brian asks them, cupping his ears.
"Dina's sick," Tony shouts, nodding in her direction.
"Nothing we can do for her till the concert's over," Brian shouts back. He looks at Amy and shrugs apologetically.
Trying not to let her fears get out of hand, Amy turns her gaze back to the stage.
THE ARENA - 10:30 PM
Kimble is on a break and watching the concert from the door.
Walking out onto the extension, Scott Stapp performs 'Arms Wide Open', while the jumbo projection screens show a video of the singer embracing his new son.
Nate appears beside Kimble. "This, is a concert my friend," he remarks ecstatically.
"Where have you been?" Kimble asks.
Nate grins widely, pulling out his sticks. "I made a little detour backstage. I had to catch Scott Phillips on those drums."
Kimble nods understandingly.
"I'll make up the time after the concert. Charlie expects us to stay until the whole place is clean, anyway." Nate starts to leave, then remembers something. "Oh yeah, I'll meet you out front as soon as I'm done tonight."
"Sure, Sticks," Kimble nods.
IN FRONT OF THE STAGE - 10:45 PM
Creed has left the stage, and the applause is thunderous. The crowd is chanting, "More! More! More!" Brian and Tony raise their arms above their heads, clapping. Amy is holding Dina, whose head is sagging.
Weary, but exhilarated, the band returns onstage for their encore. Stapp strips off his shirt and begins to sing 'One'. There is renewed screaming and Amy is caught up in it, her voice now hoarse. The entire audience raises index fingers to the sky, singing along.
Seamlessly, the song segues into Amy and Dina's favorite, 'Higher'. Lighters come on all across the arena, like 70,000 fireflies. The stage lights dim until only the handheld flames are visible. They appear to ripple on a dark sea, as the audience stands, swaying in unison to Stapp's powerful voice.
Then, it is all over and the lights come up in a dazzling display. Stapp dons his shirt and the band waves a final farewell amid deafening cheers and applause.
Tears are streaming down Amy's face. It has been a night to remember.
Tony turns to Amy. "This was SO better than I expected!"
"Truly amazing, beyond awesome!" Brian agrees wholeheartedly.
The teens turn to head for the exit, when Dina suddenly crumples beside Amy. She seems unable to keep her eyelids open.
Amy looks scared. "Help me with Dina, someone!"
"Can't she walk?" Tony asks.
"I don't think so," Amy replies, not knowing what to do.
"Let's wait until this crowd thins," Brian advises, looking nervously around.
THE LOBBY - 11:15 PM
There are still a number of concert-goers milling about as the teens enter the lobby with Dina between them.
Kimble is pushing a wide broom across the floor, collecting the mess left behind by the crowd. Spotting the young people, he waves. Their faces are grave. Kimble sees Dina being supported on either side and his smile vanishes. Dropping the broom, he hurries over to them.
"Ted—Mr. Bennett," Amy implores. "There's something wrong with Dina."
Kimble takes Dina's hand, feeling her cold, clammy skin. Alarmed, he checks her eyes. Instantly he says, "Call 911!"
The shocked teens remain motionless.
"Your friend is in serious trouble. Call 911, NOW!"
Relieved to have someone finally taking charge, Amy reaches into her purse. Pulling out her cell phone, she nervously dials Emergency, while a group of onlookers begins to form about Dina.
Kimble turns to the boys. "Help me keep her walking. We can't let her lose consciousness."
Tony moves to assist, but Brian holds him back. "What are you doing, Tony? What does he know? He's just a janitor!"
Tony shrugs him off and goes to help Kimble, who looks around at them. "Did she take something?"
Amy is about to respond, when Brian interrupts her. "We don't know anything about that." He looks at the other two teens, daring them to contradict him. Kimble returns his attention to Dina, who is barely able to move her feet. He helps her to a nearby staircase, where she
sinks down onto the steps. Kimble bends over Dina's purse and retrieves the small packet. He looks inside, then swears under his breath.
"Dina, wake up!" Kimble exclaims, slapping her face.
"Hey, don't hurt her!" yells Tony.
"If she loses consciousness, she could go into respiratory failure," Kimble replies without glancing up. Shaking her head, he says, "Come on, Dina, stay with me."
"You mean she could die?" asks Amy, horrified.
Without answering, Kimble puts an arm around Dina and lifts her to her feet, continuing to walk her back and forth with Tony's help. Amy goes to the entrance to look for the paramedics. Charter buses are rolling out of the parking area. Spotting the red lights of the EMT vehicle cutting through the traffic, she runs back.
"They're coming!" she cries. Kimble and Tony steer Dina towards the door as two paramedics come rushing inside.
"What have we got here?" the first one asks Kimble.
"A drug overdose. Her pulse is weak and her breathing is shallow." He hands them the packet of pills. "This may be what she took."
"Thanks, that's a big help," the other one acknowledges.
The paramedics efficiently place Dina on a gurney. Amy catches the arm of one of the men as they wheel Dina to the door.
"Will she be OK?"
"Don't know, miss. It looks close. We'll do our best." He pushes the gurney rapidly out the door to the waiting vehicle.
OUTSIDE THE DOME - THE ENTRANCE
The stunned teens and the crowd behind them drift outside, watching as Dina is lifted into the ambulance.
A police car swings in to the entrance. A look of fear darts across Kimble's face. He quickly masks it, but not before Brian has seen it. Kimble steps back from the others and removes his ID badge from his shirt.
The officer gets out of the car as the ambulance pulls away, its lights flashing and siren blaring. "Seems we've got a situation here. Any of you young people know what happened?" He looks at each of them in turn, his gaze finally resting on Kimble.
Thinking fast to divert attention from himself, Brian says, "The girl in the ambulance is a friend of ours—Dina. We think she may have OD'ed. I saw her talking to the janitor here during intermission. She started feeling sick after that. And just a minute ago I saw him with a packet of pills in his hand." Amy gasps, wondering what Brian is up to.
The officer looks at Amy. "Is that what you saw?"
Confused, Amy tries to remember exactly. "Well, yes, he did have some pills...he said Dina had taken them. I don't know what happened earlier. I left Dina with him during intermission," she says, realizing her words are somehow coming out wrong.
The officer casts an unfriendly gaze on Kimble. "Mind if I search you, sir?"
Dumbfounded, Kimble spreads his arms. "I found those pills in the girl's purse, but I gave them to the paramedics." He looks at the teens, desperate for their confirmation.
Brian shakes his head at Tony, warning him to keep silent. The officer finishes his search. "Can I see some ID, sir?"
Kimble responds lamely, "My wallet was stolen the other day. I..." He contemplates making a run for it, but sees a second police car pulling up to investigate.
"I think we'll discuss this further—down at the station." Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, the policeman pins Kimble's arms behind him and quickly slips on the cuffs. "I'm taking you in for suspicion of possession with intent to distribute." While he leads Kimble to the car, the second officer steps out and and begins to take down the names and addresses of those present. The three teens silently watch as Kimble is driven off.
MINUTES LATER
The crowd has dispersed and the three teens are walking back to their parked car.
Feeling troubled, Amy rushes at Brian, hitting him on the chest. "Brian, what have you done?"
Tony pulls her off and tries to calm her down. "Amy, think for a minute. What if Dina doesn't make it? The police might consider us accessories or something. And you saw that janitor. He was scared of the cop. He's probably wanted for something else."
Amy hesitates, then says, "But it's not right."
"Look, we all have to stick together on this. Agreed?" Brian insists.
Amy just looks at him.
"Hey! Wait up!" They turn to see Nate rounding the corner. "I just got off duty." He stops. "Where's Ted?" Seeing their tense faces, he asks, "What's wrong?"
"Sticks, Dina OD'ed and they've rushed her to the hospital. She might die!" Amy spills out.
"Holy sh-t! Nate exclaims.
"Could you take me to the hospital?" Amy asks.
"Sure thing." He pulls out his keys. "The van's over there." As the two head there, Nate turns back to the boys. "Are you guys coming, too?"
Brian hangs back. "We've got our own car. We'll meet you at the hospital."
THE POLICE STATION
The policeman leads Kimble through the crowded station to a small office. "This one's got no ID. Take his prints," he instructs a woman officer.
Kimble silently allows his fingerprints to be taken. As each finger is pressed into the ink, his fear deepens. She finishes and hands Kimble a wipe to clean his hands.
"Let me know as soon as you get an ID," the arresting officer requests.
"I'll see what I can do, Jack. But right now the system is down. Say, what's with you? You don't usually take such a personal interest after you've booked someone."
"This one's different. The girl that OD'ed, thanks to this piece of scum, looked just like my daughter…For a second, I thought she was." He hauls Kimble out of the room and down a hall. Outside of a cell, he asks, "Is there anyone you want to call?"
Kimble just shakes his head. Opening the cell door, the officer roughly pushes him in.
"That girl dies, I'm going to see you're tried for murder." He
slams the door shut and walks off. The clang of the door echoes down the hallway after him.
Kimble looks at the iron bars, then slowly retreats until his back is pressed against them. Closing his eyes, he sinks down to the floor in despair.
THE HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM - 12:15 AM
Amy and Nate are talking to the emergency room doctor, an Indian, whose tag identifies him as Dr. Prem Gupta. "Your friend is a very lucky girl—she's going to make it. Another half hour and..." Dr. Gupta gives a sideways nod. "Oh, thank God!" Amy heaves a gusty sigh of relief. "I'd better call her parents."
"You should phone your own folks, too," Nate advises. "Let them know you're on your way home. It's after midnight. Oh sh-t...Ted! I left him stranded at the Dome! We'll have to pick him up on the way."
Amy grabs his arm. "Sticks...I'm sorry. He's not there. He's at the police station." "What are you talking about?" Nate asks impatiently.
"After the paramedics came for Dina, the police showed up. They asked us questions and...it came out...that Ted had drugs on him, and that maybe he had sold some to Dina," she finishes, shamefaced.
"No way! Ted was as down on drugs as my Mom. He'd never do something that stupid."
"I know. You're right. Dina met Tom Farraday on the way to the concert. I'm sure that's where she got the pills."
Nate looks angrily at the teenager. "For God's sake, Amy, why didn't you tell the police that?"
"I was just so scared for Dina, and Brian didn't think we should talk to the police about..." She starts to cry from the sheer exhaustion of the evening. Nate holds her, as he thinks about what to do next. "Amy, you have to go down to the police station right now and tell the truth."
As she hesitates, her cell phone rings. Wiping her eyes, Amy pulls the phone from her purse and answers it. "Mom? ...No, everything's fine. Dina was just feeling really sick and she had to go to the hospital and I'm at the emergency room… No, she's going to be fine, really…Yeah, I'll be home as soon as I can."
Turning to Nate, she says, "I can't go now, my mom wants me home."
"But, you can't leave Ted in jail!" Nate protests.
Amy is distressed. "Brian said we should all stick to the same story."
"What do you care what Brian said. He and Tony never even bothered to show up to see if Dina made it or not!"
Amy looks stricken. "You're right. Let's go!" Having decided, she hurries for the exit.
THE POLICE STATION - 12:45 AM
Kimble is laying on the cot in his cell. Suddenly, he hears the door at the end of the hallway open. Footsteps echo, coming slowly down the hall. They stop in front of his cell. He hears the key in the lock. Looking up he sees the backlit outline of a man standing there, holding the chains and hand and ankle cuffs used for prison transport.
"Dr. Kimble," Gerard says with satisfaction. "Its been a long time. But it's finally over." Unable to breathe, Kimble stares at him, helplessly trapped. Gerard hands the chains to the officer beside him.
With a feeling of déjà vu, Kimble hears the officer say, "Prison transport. That's a little above and beyond the call, isn't it, Captain?"
Gerard's eyes seem to glow in his face. He stares at Kimble and says in a hard voice, "I start. I finish. Only this time," he adds meaningfully, "there won't be any accidents."
The policeman enters the cell and shakes Kimble roughly on the shoulder. "Let's go!"
Kimble opens his eyes and blinks in the harsh light. He turns to face the silhouette in the doorway, but there is no one there. Bewildered, he turns back to the policeman, looking for the chains, but he isn't holding any.
The policeman nods for Kimble to proceed him out the door. Kimble walks reluctantly down the hallway, still expect-ing to find Gerard waiting for him outside.
As he enters the outer office, Nate runs over to him. "Ted! Amy came down and gave her statement. She told the truth about what happened at the concert. We're taking you home."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett," Amy says miserably, coming up. "Honestly, I'm just so sorry."
A policewoman brings Kimble his few belongings in an envelope. "We have your statement. The charges are dropped. You're free to go, sir."
Stunned, Kimble distractedly puts his possessions back in his pockets. As he turns to leave with Nate and Amy, the arresting officer shouts, "Stop!" and Kimble feels a strong hand on his shoulder.
EPILOGUE
THE POLICE STATION - IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
Weak-kneed, Kimble waits as the officer comes around to face him.
"Mr. Bennett, your statement and the girl's tallied. I was wrong...I hope you can accept my apology for the inconve-nience." Unable to answer him, Kimble manages to nod. "On a personal note, let me thank you for being willing to get involved. A young girl might have died if not for your intervention. Somewhere right now there's a very grateful father. I know—I've got a teen-aged daughter of my own…"
"Jack, the system's back up," the woman officer informs him. Kimble walks quickly out of the station, ahead of the teens. "You still want the report on those prints?" she asks.
Jack shakes his head, smiling. "Don't bother."
THE DOME - PARKING LOT - FRIDAY MORNING
Nate parks the van and he and Kimble get out. Kimble surveys the nearly empty lot. "Sticks?" he says, turning to Nate.
"Yeah?"
"Just...thanks. For last night, the room over the garage, everything. I appreciate it." He swings his duffle bag over his shoulder.
"Oh, sure." Nate says. "Though, I would understand if you didn't want to, well, hang with us anymore." He starts walking toward the dome.
"Actually...I am leaving," Kimble tells him cautiously. "But not
because of your friends." He rubs his left ear. "I have some trouble with my inner ear and the volume of that concert last night started it ringing again. I'm going to have to see a doctor. Anyway, I left my rent with your mother. Could you give notice to Charlie for me?"
"Oh, man, that's too bad," Sticks says. "The Dome's not such a great place for you to work, then, is it?"
"No," Kimble smiles. "Not really."
"I'll turn in your ID badge for you," Nate offers, looking at Kimble expectantly.
Kimble touches the front of his jacket. "It came off last night in the crowd. It's probably around somewhere."
"No problem. It happens." They have reached the entrance and Nate stops. "Look—take care, Ted." By way of goodbye, he slaps Kimble's hand up and down.
"I'm going to see you again one day," Kimble predicts. "Maybe right here at the Dome. And you'll be the main event."
Nate grins and pulls out his sticks. "Better believe it!" he responds cheerily and goes inside.
Kimble waits for a moment, then crosses to the nearby bushes. The morning sun flashes from one of them and he bends, retrieving his discarded ID badge. Then he hurries in the direction of the MetroBus station.
THE MAIN BUS TERMINAL - LATER THAT MORNING
The camera picks out the Denver Express bus. Kimble is boarding. He glances over his shoulder to be sure he isn't being watched or followed.
A few more passengers board, and then the driver closes the door. With a plume of acrid exhaust, the bus rolls out of the station and joins the stream of morning traffic heading West.
THE END