What're you shooting?
Leave me alone.
Potassium.
You take enough of this stuff, it'll kill you.
I thought I might have read you wrong, that you really were suicidal, so I came back.
Who asked you?
Leave me alone! Why can't you leave me alone?
Leave me alone.
Why didn't you let me do it?
I'll see you.
Do you have a match, Doctor?
You wouldn't be awake?
- What time is it? - Almost 7:00.
I swiped this for you out of the nurses' locker room.
I'll make good on your dress. I'm afraid it was torn beyond repair.
I'll buy you a new one, or give me the size and I'll send it on to you.
I wanna talk to you about that.
- Talk to me about what? - Your father.
You really shouldn't take him out of here in his condition.
I've just been looking at his chart. There's no reason to presume brain damage.
You can't predict anything in these instances...
but he could come out of that coma at any time.
I think you should leave him here. I'll personally look after him.
Is this your way of saying you'd like me to stay in town a few more days?
That would be nice, too.
What do you say, Miss Drummond?
I expect you can call me Barbara...
considering you ravished me three times last night.
- Three times? - Look at him pretending he didn't count.
You were as puffed up as a toad about it.
Punched a couple of holes in your crusade for universal impotence, didn't it?
I think we're on first-name basis now. I'll call you Herb.
Let's give your father a week, Barbara. What do you say?
I don't want my father in this hospital.
I had a dream about this hospital.
I dreamt this enormous...
starched, white-tile building suddenly erupted like a volcano...
and all the patients, doctors, nurses, attendants, orderlies...
the whole line-staff, food-service people, the aged, the lame...
and you, right in the middle...
were stampeding in one hideous, screaming, suicidal mass into the sea.
I'm taking my father out of here, and as quickly as I can.
You're really a fruitcake, you know?
Let me put it this way. I love you.
I fancied you from the moment you came lumbering down that hallway, upstairs.
I said to Mr. Blacktree, "Who's that hulking bear of a man?"
The Apaches are reverential about bears.
Won't eat bear meat, never skin bears.
Bears are thought of as both benign and evil, but very strong power.
Men with bear power are highly respected and are said to be great healers.
"That man," I said, "gets his power from the bear."
Swell. Now, look.
You haven't got a hotel room or some sort of accommodations...
- where you can stay... - Let me put it this way.
My father and I accept the implacability of death.
If he dies, he dies.
I'm getting him out of here and back to Mexico at 1:00 p.m.
I want you to come with us, because I love you and want children.
I'm afraid Mexico is a little too remote for me.
We could use you down there. There's a curiously high incidence of TB.
You'd be a doctor again.
You'd be necessary again.
If you love me, I don't see any other choice.
What do you mean, if I love you? I raped you in a suicidal rage.
How did we get to love and children?
I ought to know if a man loves me or not.
You must've told me half a hundred times last night you loved me.
You murmured and shouted it.
You even opened the window and bellowed it out into the street.
Those were more expressions of gratitude than love.
Gratitude for what?
For resurrecting feelings of life in me I thought dead.
My God, what do you think love is?
All right, I love you! You love me!
I'm not about to argue with so relentless a romantic.
Since we have this great passion going for us...
why don't you stay around New York for a week or 10 days?
It's up to 10 days now.
- Just until your father's condition improves. - No.
I've had these prophetic dreams for seven nights.
Seven is a sinister number.
The meaning of these dreams is very clear, seven times as clear.
I'm to get you and my father out of here before we're all destroyed.
You're certifiable.
Half the time you're an intelligent young woman...
then all of a sudden, you turn into a Cabalist...
who believes in dreams and witchcraft and bear power.
I don't like the way you dismiss my whole life as unnecessary.
I do a lot of healing here in Manattan.
I don't have to go to Mexico to do it. I also teach.
I send out 80 doctors a year into the world...
often inspirited, at least competent.
I've built up one of the best departments of medicine in the world.
We have a hell of a heart unit, we have a hell of a kidney group.
A lot of people come into this place in big trouble...
and go out a lot better for the experience, so don't tell me how unnecessary I am.
So why were you trying to kill yourself with an overdose of potassium?
- Where are you going? - My hotel. I have to check out.
Mr. Blacktree doesn't speak any English.
- You're coming back, of course? - Of course.
I have to settle the bill, pack my father.
I think you need a few hours alone to make your decisions.
What decision?
You're a very tired, very damaged man.
You've had a hideous marriage, I assume a few tacky affairs along the way.
You're understandably reluctant to get involved again.
And here I am with this preposterous idea...
you throw everything up and go off with me to some barren mountains in Mexico.
Utterly mad, I know. On the other hand...
you find this world as desolate as I do. You did try to kill yourself last night.
So that's it.
Either me and the mountains, or the bottle of potassium.
I'll be back in an hour or so. I'll be in my father's room.
All right, I love you!
My God!
I repeat, I'm asking you to come out peacefully.
These buildings are condemned and unfit for habitation.
You people are possessing this building illegally...
and in violation of the law.
I'm asking you to come out peacefully.
So the hospital has assumed the responsibility...
for finding 400 housing units in good buildings.
The hospital wishes to point out that this row of buildings on First Avenue...
was condemned by the city before the hospital acquired ownership...
and even then...
only after responsible leaders in the community...
approved the building of our new drug-rehabilitation center.
God damn it. I've got a dozen community leaders waiting for me in the library.
We're trying to work out a negotiable formula for two years...
with no help from you people in the Urban Affairs Division, I might add.
I am not going to throw all that down the drain...
because some cockamamie activist group...
is showboating for the television cameras.
You get those people out of those buildings before a wall collapses...
or a fire breaks out and we've got a riot on our hands.
Okay.
Having your troubles?
I won't take much of your time. My name is Welbeck.
I've been associated with this hospital for six years...
and yesterday afternoon, Dr. Gilley called me...
to tell me he was cutting off my privileges with the hospital.
- Do you know anything about that? - That's news to me.
- He said he sent the report on. - I'll probably get the report tomorrow.
- I assume... - A report about what?
I'm not sure myself.
I did a nephrectomy on a man about seven days ago.
Emergency called in at 4:00 a.m., and the man was hemorrhaging...
I'm really sorry. I do have a meeting to go to.
In any event, there's nothing I can do about it.
If Gilley... I'll be in the library.
If Gilley wants to cut your privileges...
he's Chief of Surgery, it's within his province.
You'll have to have the hearing.
I have a laparotomy for today. I assume I'll be able to go through with that.
I've been connected with this hospital for six years.
It seems to me I've had your name down here before, for something.
Wait a minute.
You're the fellow...
with the Medicaid collecting business...
who incorporated and went public, right? Something like that?
Milton Mead was telling me about you.
You're a whole medical conglomerate.
You've got a factoring service, a computerized billing company...
a few proprietary hospitals, a few nursing homes.
Good heavens, you shouldn't be brought up before a committee of mere doctors.
You should be investigated by the Securities and Exchange Commission.
You have to go through with the hearing. I can't do anything about that.
...imperializing the Blacks.
We reject the bourgeois, middle-class Black traitors and flunkies...
who are selling out the Black proletarians...
- to the expansionist, racist policies... - Let's get back to the abortion issue.
What the hell does the male establishment know about abortion?
Who the hell raised the issue of birth control?
The issue at hand is the control of drug addiction...
in this community and in the ghetto, personally.
- We don't want no goddamn abortion. - Let's get to the core of this matter.
The point is that this hospital is the landlord for those buildings...
and instead of tearing them down...
and building some imperialistic extensions of the medical establishment...
this hospital ought to be rebuilding those tenements...
- give those people decent housing. - Please.
You know, I hallucinated last night.
I hallucinated there was an Indian doing a war dance in here.
You werert hallucinating, Mr. Mead.
- There was an Indian in here last night. - There was?
Okay. Down to the Operating Room.
Dr. Norris said about half an hour.
- Okay. Coming up fine. - Half an hour.
- Hold him right there. - Miss Shirley...
it's just an ovarian cyst.
Okay. Go up to Holly 6...
on the double. Go.
Who is that? Is that Mangafranni?
Yeah. Number 3.
Good morning, Doctor.
It's legal for a doctor to incorporate in New York, isn't it?
Since last September.
If they'd had that when I was your age, I'd have put away a couple of million.
It gives you a variety of deferral devices.
Profit sharing, for example.
Let's say you pick yourself an October 31 fiscal.
You declare a bonus payable in '71.
An accrued item payable to a principal shareholder must be paid...
within two and a half months after the year end, to get the deduction in the prior year.
But your corporation doesn't pay that tax...
because we've eliminated the taxable income with the bonus.
With two taxable entities, you can bury a lot of expenses.
Hello, this is Welbeck. Any messages for me?
I'm at the hospital. I gotta cut open some guy soon.
I'll try to make it as fast as I can. How urgent did he say it was?
Doctor Hogan made those arrangements with the underwriters.
The registration statement was filed with the SEC well over a year ago.
If he calls again, have me paged here.
- Mangafranni, right? - Right.
What do you say? We're not gonna hang it in the Louvre.
There's no pulse, Doctor.
- What's the pressure? - There's no blood pressure.
No pulse. Get the tube and EKG.
- What's the matter? - I can't feel a thing here.
- What the hell happened? - I don't know.
She must have thrown an embolus. She was doing fine, up to now.
- Did you check the gases? - I did.
'Cause the only time I saw anyone conk out...
some jerk switched the nitrous oxide and the gas lines.
Get the damn leads on.
For Christ's sake, what the hell is this?
She's a young woman. Should we open the chest?
- She's 53, you button-head. - Bicarb.
Jesus H. Christ!
Stop for a minute.
- V-fib, Doctor. - Get me the paddles.
I may be crazy, Doctor, but I don't think this is your patient.
What the hell are you talking about?
I don't want to get into an intestine hassle.
The malpractice here is monumental.
As you can see, Dr. Schaefer's blood sugar was 23.
No glucose solution is going to do that. The only thing that'll do it...
is at least 50 units of insulin, probably more.
We must presume one of the nurses shot 50 units of insulin into his bloodstream...
either by injection or IV, although how in God's name a thing like that...
I'm very sorry, Doctor.
- May I use your phone? - Certainly.
Did you ask the head nurse from eighth to tell you...
- when a Miss Drummond got here? - Yes.
- She just got there. - I better get down there directly.
Have you called the OOD?
You better call Dr. Gilley. And call Mr. Sloan.
I'll be right down.
I'm very sorry. There's a very nasty one in the OR.
They've just operated on the wrong patient.
I don't understand. Is she back in her room?
When did she get back in her room? Who brought her back?
She's back in her room.
- Who? - Mrs. Mangafranni...
the woman who was supposed to have been operated on.
Are they still working on that woman in 3?
I'm sorry, Mrs. Fried, could you say that again?
Nobody in this office sent her back up.
All right, Mrs. Fried. I'll have to call you back.
Did any of you take a woman patient named Mangafranni...
out of the holding room, back up to Holly 5, around 10:00?
- What happened? - I don't know what happened.
A patient named Mangafranni was scheduled to have a hysterectomy...
at 10:00. Dr. Mallory.
I talked to Sylvia, in the holding room, who admitted her, so she was here.
Now I just spoke to Mrs. Fried on Holly 5...
and she says an orderly brought Mrs. Mangafranni...
back to her room about 20 minutes ago.
Now Mrs. Mangafranni is in her room, sleeping.
- Who's the woman in the operating room? - I don't know.
Is she dead?
They had to open her up, and that's not good.
I better get Mr. Mead.
Now, we can rectify the injustices...
of the world tomorrow, but right now...
could we get those people out of those buildings?
Will you please listen to me? Will you shut up?
Will you please shut up and listen to me?
Let's call a halt to this...
participatory democracy...
and address ourselves to the immediate problem!
- When did it happen? - About half an hour.
- Called the Medical Examiner? - No.
You'd better do that now. Call the precinct station house, too.
Good morning.
This is really something, isn't it?
I thought she looked different when they brought her.
I said to one of the nurses, "She looks younger without her dentures."
I talked to her half an hour before.
Does anyone know who she is? What's her chart say?
Her chart and her bracelet say "Mangafranni."
The only thing that isn't Mangafranni is the woman.
Jesus H. Christ!
I've been chopping out 3 uteruses a day for 30 years...
is it too much to expect you people to bring in...
the right goddamn Jesus Christ uterus?
I talked to her in the holding room.
She was perfectly fine. A little drowsy.
I thought it was funny that when they brought her in, she was out cold.
We'll have to stay here till Mr. Mead or someone from the OOD comes back.
I'm not taking the rap for this.
I've got one malpractice suit pending. I'm not taking the rap for this one.
You're not leaving.
I love you, and I'm not gonna let you go.
Let's start putting your father's things back. He's staying here.
I'll find you an apartment.
I'm staying in a filthy little hotel room. We can't use that.
I can't make it, up here. I'll crack up.
I can retain my sanity only in a simple society.
You can't really expect me...
to live in a grass shack and hunt jackrabbit.
- Be sensible, for God's sake. - I am being sensible.
What is it you're so afraid of leaving here? Your plastic home?
Your conditioned air? Your synthetic clothes? Your instant food?
I'm offering you green silence, and solitude.
The natural order of things.
Mostly, I'm offering me. I think we're beautiful.
You make it sound almost plausible.
I don't know why you even hesitate. What's holding you here?
Is it your wife?
That's all over.
If I'm married to anything, it's this hospital. It's been my whole life.
I can't walk out on it as though it never mattered.
I'm middle class.
Among us middle class, love doesn't triumph over all...
responsibility does.
Don't ask me to stay up here with you, because I love you, and I will.
And we'll both be destroyed.
I have the bill here to pay, yet.
I'll come with you.
You wanted to know the name of that dialysis nurse?
Who?
The one who goofed on your patient, Drummond.
Her name is Teresa Campanella. You're not gonna believe this.
She died on the operating table of OR 3 about an hour ago.
- What? - You heard about the screwup in OR 3.
- You mean she was the one? - I just identified her.
What is going on?
Every time I try to find somebody, they either died of a heart attack...
or anesthesia shock in an OR.
I just came from the OR. They're trying to find a Dr. Schaefer.
Doesrt a kid named Schaefer work here?
Did. He died yesterday of an overdose of insulin. Why?
The nurse says there's a Dr. Schaefer hanging around the holding room.
Wouldrt have been your Schaefer.
Nurse says it was senior staff, middle-aged man.
There's no senior staff by that name.
I told them that. I said, "I don't know any senior staff named Schaefer."
They've got detectives down there. A whole big investigation.
- How'd the nurse know his name? - His nameplate.
I am the fool for Christ, and Paraclete of Caborca.
For heavers sakes, Dad.
What the hell's going on?
We thought you were at death's door. What are you doing out of bed?
What happened?
What's he going at you for? Did he say anything?
As a matter of fact...
he said, "I am the fool for Christ and the Paraclete of Caborca."
Shut that door, because if he tells everybody...
he's the fool for Christ and the Paraclete of Caborca, they'll put us all away.
He's killed two doctors and a nurse.
I am the wrath of the lamb, and the angel of the bottomless pit.
What do you mean?
I mean he's killed two doctors and a nurse.
He just tried to kill me.
He has something against doctors.
He got ahold of some insulin and put it in Dr. Schaefer's intravenous solution.
Somehow, he got Dr. Ives to die of a heart attack...
in the middle of the Emergency Room.
Somehow, he got a dialysis nurse, Campanella...
to die of anesthesia shock on an operating table.
He's been running all over the hospital, dressed up in Dr. Schaefer's uniform.
They're looking all over the place for the mysterious Dr. Schaefer.
It's incredible to us both, but as you can see, your father is not a helpless comatose.
I'm not the one who's crazy. Ask your crazy father.
I was merely an instrument of God.
I kill no one.
They all three died by their own hands.
Ritual victims of their own institutions...
murdered by irony.
"An eye for an eye."
Biblical retribution.
Schaefer was first, because he killed God.
God was admitted to this hospital last Monday...
under the name of Guernsey.
I was instantly aware of a divine presence.
I was convinced this porcelain old man was an angel of the Lord...
perhaps even Christ himself.
Our savior was suffering from emphysema.
He was relentlessly subjected to the benefits of modern medicine...
and died at 7:30 that evening.
A few hours later, he appeared to me in a revelation.
Rise up, Drummond.
You are dead, now you are restored.
Those who killed you, and those who killed me...
will die in our place.
You are the Paraclete of Caborca.
The wrath of the lamb.
The angel...
of the bottomless pit.
Not quite the burning bush, perhaps, but prodigal enough for me.
I was to avenge the death of God, and my own brutalization.
I was to kill doctors Schaefer, Ives, and Welbeck...
and the dialysis nurse, Miss Campanella...
whose negligence caused my coma.
I awaited a further sign from God, which was given to me later that evening.
Dr. Schaefer had arranged an assignation...
with a girl from the Hematology Lab named Sheila.
Boy, I sure hope nobody walks in.
- What about him? - He's zonked out.
- What's new? - Nothing.
- What's this? - It's my insulin.
I forgot to put it back.
What's the insulin for? I didn't know you were a diabetic.
It ain't contagious, don't worry.
You took the insulin from Dr. Schaefer's pocket and put it in the IV.
Yes.
Then a nurse came...
and plugged the IVjar into Schaefer.
God clearly intended a measure of irony here.
The hospital was to do all the killing for me.
All I need do is arrange for the doctors to become patients in their own hospital.
The next morning, I pinched some digoxin from the pharmacy...
and a sandbag from a utility can't...
and found my way to Dr. Ives' laboratory.
I crushed him with the sandbag...
and gave him a massive shot of the digoxin.
This brought on an instant condition of cardiac arrhythmia.
I waited for him to come to.
Then I brought him down to the Emergency Room.
He had, at that time, perhaps an hour to live.
Prompt treatment would've saved his life.
He was suddenly taken ill. I got him here right away.
As a staff doctor, he was seen without preliminaries.
His vital signs were taken. An electrocardiogram...
which revealed occasional ventricular premature contractions.
An intern took his history, and then he was...
promptly, simply...
forgotten to death.
Simply mislaid.
Mislaid among the broken wrists...
the chest pains, the scalp lacerations...
the man whose fingers were crushed in a taxi door...
the infant with a skin rash, the child swiped by a car...
the old lady mugged in the subway, the derelict beaten by sailors...
the teenage suicide, the paranoids...
drunks, asthmatics, the rapes, the septic abortions...
the overdosed addicts...
the fractures, infarcts, hemorrhages, concussions, boils, abrasions...
the colonic cancers, the cardiac arrests...
the whole wounded madhouse of our times.
Who's Number 7680202-S?
Is there anybody here who is that number?
In this way...
was it revealed to me the manner of Nurse Campanella's death.
She was to die of the great American plague:
Vestigial identity.
So, last night I crushed Miss Campanella with a sandbag...
sedated her with Thorazine, shaved her, prepped her...
and parked her in a corridor of the x-ray department for five hours.
- Why x-ray? - At x-ray...
a sedated body lying around unattended for five hours...
- wouldn't seem unusual. - Of course.
Her operation, that is to say...
Mrs. Mangafranni's operation, was not scheduled till 9:30.
At 9:15 this morning, I rang for my nurse.
Rang for your nurse?
To insure one full hour of uninterrupted privacy.
I got up, wheeled Miss Campanella off to the operating rooms...
I exchanged Mrs. Mangafranni's bed with hers.
I transferred the charts and identity bracelets.
She died officially of anesthesia shock.
In fact, she died because she was wearing another womars identity.
God, what do we do now?
Let me take him back to Mexico.
It's a simple world there. He functions there.
If you turn him in...
they'll cage him in the Rockland State Hospital for the criminally insane.
- Let me take him back. - Are you kidding?
We'll both take him. I'm going with you.
Let's get him dressed.
We'll leave before the police put us all in Rockland State.
I haven't finished my work here. I have this Welbeck to dispose of.
I'm the angel of the bottomless pit, and the wrath of the lamb.
He's having another revelation.
That ambulance must be there by now. You go and get them.
I'll give him a shot of something. We'll go to the airport in the ambulance.
You're hallucinating again.
Powell never showed up.
I'm short-staffed as hell. It's just me and Alice.
- It's like a Sunday. Nobody's here. - I'll be in with the bleeder.
You gotta send me somebody.
We'll be in 806.
Then what did she say?
I'm Dr. Welbeck. I have a patient on this floor named Drummond.
I'd like to see his chart.
Dr. Bock, can I have a few minutes of your time?
Dr. Gilley tells me that you initiated these proceedings against me.
- I'm busy. - What is it you have against me?
Eight days ago you showed up half-stoned for a simple nephrectomy...
botched it, put the patient in failure, and damn near killed him.
Then, pausing only to send in your bill, you flew off on the wings of Man...
to an island of sun in Montego Bay.
This is the third time in two years we've had to patch up your patients.
The other two died.
You're greedy, unfeeling, inept, indifferent...
self-inflating, and unconscionably profitable.
Besides that, I have nothing against you.
I'm sure you play a hell of a game of golf. What else do you want to know?
How much do you make a year?
For a guy who makes a lousy $40 to $50,000...
This is Dr. Welbeck. Were you paging me?
You've been trying to reach me all morning.
He pulls out the wires and the tubes...
and he gets up and he puts on a doctor's uniform, and he murders doctors.
He just went out 10 seconds before you came in here.
I'll tell you something else about this crazy place.
There was a naked Indian here, last night, doing a war dance.
That's the kind of crazy place you're running here.
You gotta get me out of here. This is a crazy place.
Listen to me.
I wake up last night and there was an Indian in here, a naked Indian!
- What kind of a hospital is this? - Are you paging me?
Sometime later, the guy in that bed there is getting out.
Are the police still here? Get them up here.
All day, he lays there like he's dead.
In the middle of the night, he gets out of bed! Thought I was crazy!
He says, "You're hallucinating."
I just... Listen. I saw a naked Indian, now I'm seeing a ghost.
I figure he's right, I'm hallucinating.
I'll be down soon. It never rains, but it pours.
A fire broke out in one of the buildings.
The squatters came out. The police tried to arrest them.
Now the situation has erupted into a riot.
- You must be wondering what this is about. - Don't leave me alone here!
Mr. Hitchcock will stay with you. Better call the cops, Tom.
I haven't time now.
I'm not gonna try to tell you this crazy story my brother just told me.
I'll fill you in on it at lunch, sometime.
- Hold it! - The ambulance is here.
But your father isn't. Disappeared.
He put on Schaefer's uniform and took off to do God's work...
presumably the murder of Dr. Welbeck.
- The guy on the phone is Dr. Welbeck. - What are you talking about?
Also, the other patient in your father's room just overheard the whole confession...
and told the Chief Administrator. They're sending for the cops.
Oh, my God. Who held title?
Do the underwriters know about this yet?
What are you waiting for? Arrest the son of a bitch. Turn him in.
Oh, my God! When?
Call me right back. I'm at the Holly Pavilion, eighth floor. Hurry, please.
- Are you all right? - Am I all right?
That son of a bitch is trying to wipe me out. My partner.
The eminent orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Noel Hogan...
is a miserable thief, and he's trying to wipe me out.
- Mr. Drummond's chart. - What?
- What room is it? - 806.
I'm expecting a phone call. Put it straight through to me in that room.
The son of a bitch has been draining the company...
with phony purchase orders on another company...
of which, it now turns out, his wife is the principal stockholder.
Transparent fraud. I'll send him up for 20 years.
You don't seem that much the worse for wear.
Please use some other phone. I'm expecting an important call.
- Who is this guy? - I'll be at the nurses' desk, Sergeant.
You've got a fever...
- but you're doing well. - I'm not Drummond.
- Drummond's the other bed. - That's mine.
It's Welbeck here. Go ahead.
- I'm getting out of this nuthouse. - Take it easy.
I came in here to get a lousy polyp cut out.
My God! What do you mean? How many transactions were there?
I borrowed against that stock.
I'm a sick man. I'm supposed to have peace and quiet!
What do you mean, Brazil?
I talked to Hogars office yesterday, and they...
I'm wiped out.
The SEC has suspended trading in my stock.
Cardiac arrest. Holly 8.
We have an emergency here.
Please clear all corridors.
Breathe him.
- Where's Chandler? - He went to lunch.
Get that bed out of here.
Give me an Ambu-bag and an airway.
What's been happening?
- In here? - Yeah.
- Who is it? - One of the patients had a cardiac arrest.
Total cardiac arrest.
- How long has he been like this? - A minute.
- No pulse, no heartbeat, no respiration. - I'll take over.
- We have another emergency in 823. - Endotracheal tube.
- Was it Drummond? - Who else would it be?
Who is this patient? What's the story on this patient?
This his chart, Dr. Bock? What's his name? Drummond?
Yes, his name is Drummond. That's his chart.
Christ. The poor son of a bitch just had a nephrectomy a week ago.
Hook him up to the monitor.
Stop the massage.
Ventricular fibrillation. Get me the paddles.
Push another amp of bicarb.
Set it for 200.
Set, 200.
Everybody back away. One, two, three.
Didrt convert. He's still fibrillating.
Let's go to 400.
- Everybody back. - Set, 400.
One, two, three.
That didn't work, either. Let me have 1 cc of adrenalin, and an intercardiac needle.
Stop the massage.
It's ventricular fibrillation. Push another amp of bicarb.
Two hundred.
Set, 200.
Is he dead?
They can't get him out of fib. I don't think he'll live.
Thank God.
That should close the case, Sergeant.
Nobody's gonna get hurt. We just want the Director.
I've had it up to here.
- I am not dealing with this kind of cheap... - Now, look.
We're looking for a hostage!
- Fourteen people got arrested for... - Where's the camera?
Would you be cool, man?
Fourteen people got arrested for living in their homes...
- which you people threw them out of. - Right on.
Now we are gonna arrest you.
We gonna hold you hostage, and we ain't letting you go.
We, the members of the Doctors' Liberation Committee...
indict this hospital for the criminal neglect of the community in which it is situated.
We demand a dissolution of the governing and executive boards...
What are you gonna do about those 14 ghetto people?
I am not going to do anything about anything.
You are.
If you want to take over this hospital, you take it over.
- We will! - You run it!
I am finished. I quit.
You run it. You pay the bills!
- You fight the city. - We will.
You fight the state. You fight the unions. You fight the community.
You think you can do a better job, you do it.
Now, I am finished! I quit!
It's all yours.
Let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains.
The age is closed.
The season of the seventh seal is at hand!
The age is closed.
Dr. Welbeck is dead. They thought he was you.
I know.
We must arrange to have his body shipped to my Apache village...
where we'll bury him with full tribal rites.
- We must hurry. - In a day or two, someone'll ask...
"Whatever happened to Dr. Welbeck?"
It'll be assumed he absconded to Brazil to join his partner...
the eminent orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Noel Hogan.
Welbeck, too, was mislaid...
overlooked, forgotten to death.
I'm not going.
The hospital's coming apart. I can't walk out on it when it's coming apart.
Someone has to be responsible.
Everybody's hitting the road...
running away, running to the hills.
Someone's got to be responsible.
Kennedy Airport. You've got a 2:30 flight to make.
You going back in?
Yep.
It's like pissing in the wind, right?