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TRANSCRIPT:
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In New York City, a businessman, Wes Douglas, hurries down the sidewalk, talking on his cell phone.

Mr. Douglas:  So, let him sue me.  And while you're at it, ask him if the name, Martha Stewart, rings a bell.  My in at AmGen doesn't give him inside formation.  Hold on.  (He switches over to an incoming call.)  Yeah, I'm with Hunt.  What?...What does that mean 'partial ocean view'?

A woman, passing him on the sidewalk:  I'm sorry?

Mr. Douglas to woman:  What?

Woman:  I'm...I'm lost.  How do I get to Statue of Liberty?

Mr. Douglas to woman:  Take the ferry from Battery Park.  To get to Battery Park, you take the Number 1 or Number 9 line to South Ferry Station.  All right?

Mr. Douglas to phone:  Tourists...I'm not paying 700 bucks a night for partial anything.  I've got to go.  I've got Hunt on the other line.  He's having a meltdown.  (He switches over to Hunt's call.)  Hunt...Hold on, I...(He's breathing heavily.)  Hunt, I got to get back to you.  There's something...

He drops his cell phone and notices that his hand is turning blue.  He's having more trouble breathing and collapses onto the sidewalk as his face, also, turns blue.

 

At a Little League softball game in Bethesda, Maryland.

Stephen Connor arrives at the game.  He sees an acquaintance.

Glen:  Connor.

Connor:  Glen.

Glen, as they shake hands:  You guys stop that bird flu, yet?

Connor:  Yeah, up to my elbows in that stuff all morning.

As Connor walks away, Glen stares unhappily at his hand.

Connor climbs the bleachers and sits down beside his wife.

Connor:  You look good, Lis.  I like your hair.  It's...

Lisa:  Thanks...I'd like your key to the house, Stephen.

Connor:  You sure that's such a good idea?  I mean, what if something happens?

Lisa:  Something doesn't always have to happen, Stephen.

Their son, Jack, comes up to bat.

Connor calls out to him:  What do you say now, Jackie boy?  Let's get one now, buddy.  Come on, let 's get one!

Lisa:  Please let him get a hit this time.

Connor:  Yeah, you're not kidding.

Jack swings at the ball and misses.

Connor's cell phone rings.

Lisa:  Let me guess.  This one you have to take.

Connor speaks into the phone as he walks down the bleachers:  What part of 'do not call me for two hours', do you not understand?...Now?...Okay...Okay, okay, fine.

He hangs up and walks over to the batting cage.

Connor:  Jack!  Jack, what kind of ball is that?  A Wilson or a Spalding?

Jack:  Dad, I have no idea.

The team's coach:  Dr. Connor.

Connor to coach:  Sorry.

Connor to Jack:  Isolate the ball from everything.  Forget about the pitcher.  Forget about the score.  Just focus on the ball and tell me what the word is between the stitching.  Then, swing through it.

Coach:  Dr. Connor!

Connor to coach:  Thank you.

Connor to Jack:  You can do this, Jack.

Jack swings and hits the ball.  His mother, Lisa, jumps up, clapping:  Great job!  All right, Jack!

Connor and his son smile at each other. 

A helicopter flies low overhead and lands in a nearby field.

Connor and his son exchange another look.  Then, Stephen run towards the helicopter.  He pulls out his cell phone:  Durant, we got an incident.  One 47-year-old male, one 32-year-old female.  Get everyone.  We're going to New York.

He gets into the helipcopter and it flies away.

 

St. Jerone's Hospital, New York City

The helicopter arrives at the hospital.  Drs. Connor, Durant and McCabe with Frank Powell and Eva Rossi get out.

Connor:  Eva, check the other hospitals. If any other blue people show up...

Eva Rossi:  They'll be brought here right away.

Connor:  And don't forget...

Eva:  No press.  I'm on it.

Connor:  Powell.

Frank Powell:  Yeah.

Connor:  Something has to link these two people:  same family, same apartment, same food, same drug use.

Frank:  Start where they live and move out from there.

Connor:  And check and see if there have been any Haz-Mat spills in the area.

Frank:  Got it.

 

The three doctors exit the hospital elevator.

Connor:  Durant?

Durant:  I'll check the preliminary blood panels, see if anything jumps out.

Connor:  Run down what they ate, drank, breathed...

Durant:  Smelled and smoked.  I'm on it.

McCabe:  What should I be doing, Dr. Connor?

Connor:  How long have you been on this team, McCabe?

McCabe:  Three weeks.

Connor:  Three weeks.  You should have known exactly what you were doing two weeks ago.

Connor walks away.

Durant to McCabe:  I could use some help.

 

Connor shows his badge to a nurse at the reception desk:  Dr. Stephen Connor, NIH.  I need to talk to the senior physician in charge.  Thank you.

 

Durant and McCabe continue walking down the hall.

Durant:  Don't take it personally.  He suffers from a bad case of high expectations.

McCabe:  You think?

 

Connor looks into the isolation area where the two blue patients are being kept.

 

Eva is talking to a nurse at a desk in the E.R.

Eva:  Try having two bosses.  I've got the director back in D.C., who's very straight-laced.  And then on the road, I got the other guy.

Nurse:  The gonzo doc upstairs.

Eva:  Which is why I need your help.  I'll let the other E.R.s know.  If any more blue people show up, you call me.  I'll take 'em upstairs.

Nurse:  I gotta be able to say where this order is coming from.

Eva shows her badge:  NIH, Press Relations.  You can always blame Washington.

 

Drs. Durant and McCabe are reviewing the patients' records.

Durant:  Liver function, normal.  Drug screen, normal.  White blood cell count?

McCabe:  Totally normal.  Based on these results, these people could run a marathon...except they're blue.

Durant's cell phone rings.  She checks the number.

Durant to McCabe:  Third call today from a student I worked with on the Listeria outbreak in Virginia, last year.  She's a resident now.  So, naturally, everything is high drama.

Durant to phone:  Kelly, please.  I already said 'no'. 

Kelly, walking down the corridor of a hospital:  They just took the baby away.  The dad's been arrested.  I'm - I'm telling you, there's something off about this one and no one will listen to me, except you.

Durant:  I'm not listening to you.  Stop trying to guilt me into this.  You should know, by now, that is a guaranteed dead end.

Kelly:  This is a baby we're talking about, Natalie.

Durant looks over at McCabe.

McCabe:  What?

 

On the roof of the hospital, a helicopter is waiting.

Durant:  It's a one-year-old with fractures and bruises.  The D.A. says abuse.  Kelly's not so sure.

McCabe:  Why are you sending me?  I'm the least experienced person on the team.

Durant:  We could spare you. 

She reaches out and pats him on the shoulder:  You know more than you think, Dr. McCabe.  Go!

McCabe runs and gets on the helicopter.

 

Connor is questioning one of the patients.

Connor:  Mr. Douglas, is there anything about this morning that seems remotely different, other than ending up here?

Mr. Douglas shakes his head.

Durant walks in and hands Connor some paperwork.

Connor:  The blood shows nothing?  We'll retest the blood ourselves.  What's the differential diagnosis?

Durant:  Food poisoning, but with food...

Connor:  The body would be trying to expel it.  And neither of them have vomited.  Look at this.  (Indicating the I.V. bag.)  They hung dextrose and water on him.

A doctor walks up to them:  I hung that bag myself.

Durant:  Dr. Natalie Durant.  Dr. Stephen Connor.  We're from NIH.  You must be Dr. Gordon.

Dr. Gordon:  Thank God the feds are here, cause us local yokels, we see a guy come in bright blue, we just put his feet up and give him a glass of lemonade.

Connor:  The '91 cholera pandemic in Peru?  12,000 were dead before it even got up to speed.  The '93 Hantavirus outbreak in New Mexico...

Dr. Gordon:  Over 50 dead before they knew it was mice.  I am very well aware of the history of infectious disease.

Connor:  Good.  Then, you're aware that if the wrong person coughs on a plane in Hong Kong, two days later, 100 people are dead in Boston.

Dr. Gordon:  Your guess is as good as mine.

Connor:  No, mine is better.  But, only one of us gets to make the call.  Do you want to make the decision that could affect the lives of eight million New Yorkers?  Or do you think you better leave that one to me?

Durant:  A general rule of thumb:  one victim is a fluke, but two means you have a problem.  And you have two very ill patients in here.

Connor sees another patient being wheeled into the room:  Three very ill patients.

Dr. Gordon turns and leaves the room, telling a nurse:  Switch out the dextrose for a bag of normal saline.

Connor:  Let's get to work.

 

Durant takes blood from Mr. Douglas:  The blood is brackish.  I better go draw the others.

 Mr. Douglas:  What's brackish?

Connor:  We have to test it first to see what it means.  But, we're missing something.  Wes, what are we missing?

Wes Douglas:  I'm going to die.

Connor:  You're not going to die.

Wes:  Yes, I am.  I'm going to die alone.

Connor:  Look, I'm sure we're trying to contact your family as we speak.

Wes:  There's no family.  My wife left.  My daughter...Could someone try to contact my daughter for me?  Please.

Connor:  I'll do my best.

Durant:  Stephen.  Six more patients are on the way.

 

Frank Powell is inspecting Wes Douglas' apartment.

The landlord watches as Frank takes water samples, tests for gas leaks, and checks the food and utensils.  In a drawer, Frank finds some matchbooks from local restaurants, including Dobro's Grill.

Landlord:  Place is tiptop.  You're wasting your time.

Frank:  I need to check the basement heater, the water heater, gas and sewer lines.

 

At a hospital in Richmond, Virginia.

Kelly shows a photo to Dr. Miles McCabe:  See, when they brought her in today, the leg was fine.

They look at the baby.

McCabe:  It's bruised.  But, wouldn't residual bruising be expected from contusions?

Kelly:  This is spontaneous bruising. I mean, I may not have been a resident long, but this is not normal.

McCabe:  How long have you been a resident?

Kelly:  Almost a month.  So, where do we start?

McCabe appears uncertain:  Let's start with the mom.

 

Eva Rossi walks over to the reception desk at the hospital.

Eva:  I can take the notification of family members off your hands, just for the blue patients.  Just, you know, make your life easier.

Nurse:  A bureaucrat who cares!  (She hands the folders to Eva.)

Eva:  Thank you.

 

As Eva walks away, a man approaches the desk.

Man:  Eric Novak, New York Examiner.  I'd like to talk to the doctor in charge.

Nurse:  What is this about, Mr. Novak?

Novak:  New Yorkers turning blue.  The public has the right to know if this is a serious, possibly terrorist-related, crisis you're covering up here.

 

Eva overhears their conversation, walks into another room, where Frank is sitting, and speaks into her phone:  Fine.  I'll hold.

 

As Connor walks out of the isolation room, Durant hands him some paperwork.

Durant:  How's Gordon?

Connor:  He sees what we see.  Kidney and liver functions deteriorating.  We started a Valium drip to head off the seizures.  (He's reading the papers.)  Wait a second.  Douglas has a blood alcohol of .12?

Durant:  They all have alcohol in their system.

Connor:  Maybe, they all went to the same bar or ordered from the liquor store.  Maybe, we're just looking for bad booze.

Durant:  We already ran it down.  They all drank different things in different places.  And most, only, had a beer or a glass of wine.

Connor:  So, we've got nothing?  That's just great!

 

Eva observes Connor's reaction:  Uh-oh.  Looks like he's about to hand somebody their head.

Frank:  Very "Reanimator".  It's an excellent flick.

Eva:  Can I just ask why are you so obsessed with horror movies, when your day job pretty much is a horror movie?

Frank:  Cause I love my work.

Connor walks into the room:  All right, listen up.  We have nine patients out here.  They all have something in common.  Tell me what it is.  And don't say they're all blue.

Frank:  It's not in their homes.  All right, it's no gas leaks, no odors, nothing rotten in the fridges or pantries.  No neighbors show any symptoms...Check this out.  (He pulls up a diagram on the computer.)  Six of the patients live within three blocks of each other.  Two work close by.  But, what doesn't connect is the ninth lives and works in Brooklyn.

Connor:  The pattern still holds.  The ninth was there for some other reason.  It's something in those six square blocks, so go back and start again.

Frank:  Where they live is a dead end.

Connor:  Then it's where they work, where they play chess, where they get their groceries, where they do their laundry, where they get a massage, where they talk to their shrink!  I don't care...

Durant:  Stephen.  I'm going to order in dinner.  You got that blood sugar thing going on again.

Frank notices a nurse walking by with a bag full of the victims' clothing.

Frank:  Or maybe it's in their clothes!  (He hurries out of the room.)

Connor to Eva:  How are you doing with the press?

Eva:  Quiet as mice, sir.

 

Dr. McCabe and Kelly are talking to the baby's mother, Dawn Haskell.

Dawn:  They said there's a restraining order.  They won't even let me see her now, to hold my own baby.

McCabe:  It's going to be okay.

Dawn Haskell:  It's not going to be okay!  She's sick.  We don't know what's wrong with her.

Kelly:  That's why Dr. McCabe is here.

Dawn Haskell:  The D.A., she says my husband's been hitting Emma.  But, he would never, ever!  On my life, I know he didn't hurt our little girl.

 

Frank, wearing a Haz-Mat suit, inspects the victims' clothing.  In the pocket of a pair of pants, he finds a matchbook from Dobro's Grill.

 

At the hospital in Virginia.

Kelly:  My attending doesn't even know that I called you.  You have to hurry up.

McCabe:  You think I want to drag this out?

They enter the nursery.

McCabe to the baby:  Hi, Emma.  How are you doing, sweetheart?  I just have to do a couple of little checks here.  That's it, very good.  (He snaps his fingers.)  Okay, sweetheart, can you look at me?  (He snaps his fingers closer to the baby's head.)  Can you look at me, sweetie?  Look at me, sweetie.  Can you look over here?  (He picks up a nearby lunch tray and drops it on the floor.  Emma doesn't react to the noise.)

 

Outside the hospital, McCabe is talking on his cell phone to Durant.

Durant:  What does that mean, Miles?

McCabe:  It means this looks like abuse.

McCabe to Kelly:  Sorry, but it does.

McCabe to Durant:  And the poor kid's been beaten to where she can't even hear any more.

Durant:  How severe are the head injuries?

McCabe:  I didn't, actually, see any head injuries and the MRI came back completely clear.

Durant:  Miles, what color are the whites of the baby's eyes?

McCabe:  Maybe white?

Durant:  Find out.  Call me back.

(later)

Frank:  It's a building they have in comon.  Dobro's, local diner, big breakfast crowd.  Every patient ate there in the last twelve hours.

Connor:  It can't be food poisoning.  The symptoms are all wrong.  Plus, if you're talking about a big crowd, there would be a lot more cases than this.

Frank:  Look, I don't know what happened, but I know where.  This is your building. (He indicates a computer generated image of the diner.)

Eva hangs up her cell phone:  That was Wes Douglas' daughter.  I told her, her father was in critical condition.  She said she had nothing to say to him and hung up the phone.

 

Connor goes in to question Wes Douglas.

Connor:  Wes...

Wes moans softly.

Connor:  Wes, I need to talk to you about Dobro's.

Wes:  Did you reach my daughter?

Connor:  We're still trying.  We've isolated the problem to the diner.  So, let's go back.  Let's start when you walked into the place.

Wes:  She was born eight weeks early.  She was so little, only three and a half pounds.

Connor:  Well, they can do pretty amazing things with preemies.

Wes:  She was so tiny and yet, so strong...and beautiful.  I knew then that I was going to change my life...for her.

Connor:  Yeah, kids will do that to you.

Wes:  Except I never changed anything.  Not one damn thing.  Not...one...thing.

 

The phone rings at the home of Connor's ex-wife.

Jack answers it:  Hello.

Connor:  Is the ball still in the air?

Jack:  It wasn't a Wilson or a Spalding.  It was a Rawlings.

Connor:  You see what happens when you focus.  I'm so proud of you, pal.

Jack:  Yeah, first hit this season.  Pretty tight, huh?

Connor:  Very tight.

Jack:  The championship game's tomorrow.  Are you going to make it?

Connor:  I'll do everything I possible can to be there.  Talk to your Mom?

Jack:  Okay, just a sec.

Jack hands the phone to his mother:  Mom, it's Dad.

Lisa:  Is everything all right?

Connor:  What?  I can't just check in once in a while?

Lisa:  Well, you should try Jack back later.  Mrs. Brewster is baby-sitting and I think he finds her extremely dull.

Connor:  Where are you going?

Lisa sighs:  To dinner.

Connor:  With who?

Lisa sighs, again:  Stephen, we have to move on.

Connor:  Yeah, I know you keep saying that.  But, the reason for it is kind of escaping me.

Lisa:  I'm sorry, Stephen.  I got to go.  (She hangs up the phone.)

 

Durant runs out of the isolation ward:  Connor!

They both rush back into the ward to find Dr. Gordon trying to revive Wes Douglas.

Various people:  It's asystole.  There's no rhythm.  What do we got?

Connor takes over.  He hits Wes' chest with his fist, then applies the paddles again.  He looks at the monitor.  Wes Douglas is dead.

Connor:  What's the clock?

Durant:  Twelve hours and forty minutes from the moment he collapsed until his death.  That leaves Eleanor Cochran...

Connor:  Two hours and ten minutes...I don't care what his daughter said.  Call her back.

 

Connor, Durant and Powell are hurrying down the hospital corridor.

Connor:  Push Eleanor Cochran's fluids.  Dilatin at 50 mg I.M.  If her respiration drops below ten...

Durant:  Intubate her.  I've done this before.

Connor:  I'll get samples back from the diner as quickly as possible.  In fact, I'll use McCabe.  Run him back and forth.

Durant:  McCabe, right.  There's that...

Connor:  There's what?

Durant:  We got another case.  A baby in Virginia with spontaneous bruising.

Connor:  We don't have time for another case.  You know we don't have time for another case.

Durant:  We'll find it.  The chopper had to go back to Washington, anyway.  You think the kid's a pain in the ass

Connor: You already sent him, didn't you?

Durant: Quite a while ago.

Connor:  Damn it, Natalie!  I can't afford you taking time out to supervise him.

Durant:  If I say I can handle it, I can.

Connor:  No, you can't.  We lost one patient already.  How many more are you willing to lose?

Durant:  None.  Which is why I will not turn away from someone who needs us.

Connor:  You're talking about one child versus a city of eight million, whose lives are at risk.  You made a bad choice.

Durant:  In case you've forgotten, Stephen, for those parents, that one baby is the entire universe.

Connor and Frank get on the elevator and Durant returns to the patients.

 

Eric Novak on his cell phone:  They're jerking me around, of course..Yeah, another fifteen minutes...Yeah, yeah, they know I'm a reporter...Yeah, I know.  I know!  I'll call.

He places his cell phone on a bench, beside his jacket and walks across the corridor to get some water.  He returns to his seat and finds Eva sitting beside his belongings.

Novak sits down beside her:  Don't you hate hospitals?

Eva:  Hate.  (They chuckle.)

Novak realizes his cell phone is missing:  That's weird.  I just put my phone down.  Did you see it?

Eva:  Your phone?

Novak:  Yeah.

Eva shakes her head:  Sorry.

 

Frank and Connor are outside of Dobro's Grill.

Frank:  Owner's name is Daryl Cooley.

Connor:  Cooley... (He pounds on the front door.)  Mr. Cooley, open up!  Mr. Cooley! 

There's no response.

Connor:  We don't have time for this.

Franks pulls out a small kit and picks the lock.

Connor:  That saved time.

They walk in and hear a loud noise from the rear of the restaurant.

Frank:  I don't like the sound of that.

They see a man running.

Frank:  Hey!

They chase the man and corner him in the kitchen. 

Connor:  Get him.  Get him.  Get him.

Frank grabs him.

Daryl Cooley:  All right.  All right.  All right, man.  Cool down.  So, I tipped a few back last night.  Just give me the cup and let's get this done...What?  Ya'll not from parole?

Connor grabs him by the arm and propels him into the front of the diner:  Mr. Cooley, a man is dead and more will die because of something that happened in this restaurant in the last 24 hours.

Cooley:  What?!

Connor:  Look, I need you to call everyone who worked here today and I want you to get them down here, now.

 

Eva and the reporter, Novak, are laughing.

Eva:  Oh, I remember that time as being so free.  Hanging out on this little Greek island, incredible food.  Oh, and the beaches.  I used to sunbathe topless, sometimes even naked, and nobody even cared.

Novak:  Uh...yeah...well, why would they?  Hey, you want to...grab some dinner? ...I'm sorry.  That was...was a jerk thing to say.  Because I know your Dad's upstairs recovering from surgery...and I'm asking you out...

Eva:  It's okay.  I'd like to have dinner with you.  So, uh, what do you feel like?  (She stands up and puts her jacket on.)

Novak:  Oh, I didn't mean tonight...What about your Dad?

Eva:  Well, he's recovering...like you said.  A girl's gotta eat, right?

Novak:  ...You know, whatever's upstairs must be one hell of a scoop for you to go to all this trouble.  Who do you work for?

Eva:  Leave this one alone, Mr. Novak.  When it's safe to give you this story, I promise you'll be the first one I call.

Novak:  Well, that's touching.  Now, give me my phone back cause I'm going to file this story, with or without your help.

Eva sighs:  Fine.  Meet me here in twenty minutes.  I'll give you your phone and your story.

 

At the Virginia hospital, Dr. Miles McCabe checks the baby's eyes.

McCabe:  Incredible.  The whites of her eyes, they're not white.  They're blue.

Kelly:  Which means?

McCabe:  I don't think she's been abused.  I think we're dealing with an orphan disease.

Kelly:  A what?

McCabe:  It's a disease so rare it's almost never diagnosed correctly.

Kelly:  Is that supposed to be reassuring?

McCabe:  I'm gonna have to take a DNA sample to make double sure.  I need a DNA kit.

 

As they leave the nursery, McCabe:  Send a sample, rush to NIH.  In less than two hours, they can get it back...

Kelly sees two people approach them:  Dr. McCabe, this is - uh - Dr. Strickland, my attending and D.A. Musgrave.

Dr. Strickland:  What the hell are you doing, Kelly?  Dr. McCabe, it's the senior staff, only, that invites visiting doctors.

McCabe:  I know, and I'm sorry.  But, the good news is I think I'm coming close to understanding what's going on with the Haskell baby.

D.A. Musgrave:  What's to understand?  The child's been abused.

McCabe:  With all due respect, I don't think so.  I think she's sick and I think I can prove it with a DNA sample.

Dr. Strickland:  We already did a genetic work-up.  It came back completely normal.

McCabe:  An orphan disease would not show up in a regular work-up.

Dr. Strickland:  Dr. McCabe, I want you out of here.  The last time I checked, the NIH does not involve itself in the jurisdictions of family services and the local police!

McCabe:  Then, let me tell you what the NIH involves itself in:  answers.  Your tax dollars pay for the NIH so that when, God forbid, some unforeseen, nasty, never-before-seen-or-heard-of calamity, strikes you, Dr. Strickland, some rubber-stamping bureaucrat doesn't write you off without even trying.  Which is why I'm going to take this DNA sample.  And if you don't like it, you can call your local police and have me hauled out of here in leg irons!

D.A. Musgrave:  That's exactly what we're going to do.

Dr. Strickland and the D.A. walk away.

Kelly:  Leg irons?

McCabe:  We better get this sample sent fast before Dr. Miles goes to jail.

 

At Dobro's Grill.

Daryl Cooley:  Okay, they're not happy, but they're on their way.

Connor:  Thank you.  (His cell phone rings.)  Yeah?...When?...Okay.  (He hangs up the phone.)  Two more patients showed up.  That's twelve victims total.

Cooley:  Oh, man, somebody else is dying?!

Connor:  Listen closely.  All that matters, right now, is you.  You need to focus, right now, on what we're doing here.  Do you understand?

Cooley:  Yeah.

Connor:  Yes?

Cooley:  Yeah!

Connor:  Walk me through your routine.

Cooley:  Okay, come on.

 

Eva meets the reporter, Eric Novak, and leads him through some winding corridors.

Eva:  I'm sorry for the run-around.  We all have our jobs to do.  (She returns his cellphone.)

Novak:  Whatever!  You did your job, now I'll do mine.  What's going on?

Eva:  Well, it's complicated.  I used to work on Wall Street, big brokerage firms - Chase, Goldman, Sachs, Leeman.  I had quite the client base, but it's still Wall Street, right?  So, I found myself at this little crisis of conscience which led to a whole downard spiral, which led to a life re-evaluation period.

Novak:  I mean, what's going on with the blue people?

Eva:  I'm getting to that.

 

At Dobro's Grill, Connor and Frank are swabbing various surfaces.

Frank:  Any recent power outages?  Heating problems?  Cooling problems?

Connor:  Do you remember using any ingredients from a new distributor?  Anything past its expiration date?

Cooley:  Never.  I take my work seriously.  I'm from a family of chefs.  Cooley's in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Connor:  Even a Cooley can make a mistake.

Cooley:  Not that kind.  Dairy is delivered twice weekly and I've used the same distributor since I bought this place.  I keep my kitchen spotless!

Connor:  Who do you trust most out there?  (Indicating the diner's employees.)

Cooley:  That young kid, Ernesto, is good people.  He ain't missed a day in two years.

Connor calls out:  Ernesto!  Come here.  How fast can you get this to St. Jerome's?

He hands Ernesto the swab samples.

 

At St. Jerome's Hospital, an obviously exhausted Ernesto, watches Dr. Durant run some test on the samples.  One of the readouts shows a high level of nitrate.

Durant:  What?!

She runs some more tests.  Then, calls Connor.

Connor:  Yeah.

Durant:  I think we're dealing with some form of nitrate poisoning.

Connor:  Well, that makes no sense.

Durant:  I got a nitrate hit from one of the kitchen surfaces.  So, I re-tested the blood and sure enough, there's nitrate in the blood - in pretty whopping doses.

Connor:  Well, I've never seen a nitrate strong enough to kill.

Durant:  I know, but I also know I got a vial full of blue.

Connor:  Okay, sodium nitrate's most basic application is...

Durant:  Saltpeter.

Connor:  Right, meat preservative.

Connor to Cooley:  Cooley, what food do you put meat preservative in?

Cooley:  None.  I don't use that stuff.

Connor to Durant:  He doesn't use saltpeter.  Okay, if it's ammonium nitrate, it could be a cleaning system, a boiler or a heating unit.  But, that all came up clear.

Durant:  Could be cold packs in the freezer, fertilizer, some connection between fertilizer, grain, animals, meat...

Connor:  Or eggs, milk, cheese, butter.

Durant:  I don't like this, either, Stephen, but maybe we should start a course of treatment.

Connor:  If we're wrong, we'll kill them faster than they're already dying.

Durant:  But, we're running out of time.

Connor:  Do not tell me that I am running out of time!

Durant:  Then, I will tell you that Eleanor Cochran has a half hour, Peter has 50 minutes.  So, you tell me whether we're running out or not.

Connor:  Okay.  I need more information.  Let's go back to the food.  It has to be there.  I need to know what each of them had to eat.

Durant:  All right, I'm on it.

 

In the maze of corridors beneath the hospital.

Eva:  So, I slunk back home to Mom and Dad.  I mean, doesn't everybody at some point?  And it turns out that they had just moved to within a stone's throw of the NIH.

Novak:  National Institutes of Health.

Eva:  Exactly.  Which should explain why all the secrecy now.

Novak:  Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.  Hey, hey, hey, hey.  You don't actually think you're going to ditch me down here, do you? 

Eva:  Around that corner is a door.  Behind that door is an isolation ward.  You won't find it on any of the hospital's plans but inside, you will find your story.

Novak:  Puh-leeze!

Eva:  The choice is yours, Mr. Novak. 

As Novak heads down the corridor, Eva takes off her shoes, turns and runs back the way they came.  She slams a door shut, closing him up in the dark.

Novak:  Oh, that's nice.  Sneak away, you little snake!  I still got my cell...She took my battery?!

(later)

Durant on the phone to Connor:  It was the special.  They all ate the breakfast special.

Connor:  Good work, Natalie. 

He hangs up the phone and turns to Cooley:  The breakfast special.  What's in it?

Cooley:  Eggs, bacon and sausage, potatoes and toast.

Connor to Frank:  All right, get samples of all that.

Connor to Cooley:  All right, twelve people have gone down so far.  How many people ate the special?

Cooley:  Well, on a good day - and today was pretty good - 250.

Connor:  250?

Cooley:  Yeah, but only twelve people got sick.  So, what does that mean?

Frank:  It means we'd have more patients if it was just your special.  Either it's not your special or there's some other combination of factors involved.

Connor:  No, I'll tell you what it means.  It means we're back to square one. 

His cell phone rings:  Connor..............I see.

He hangs up the phone:  We have a whole new cluster of victims.  Four more people in Dover, Delaware.

(later)

Durant on the phone to Connor:  We had to intubate Eleanor Cochran.  The Dilantin isn't stopping the seizures.  Her blood pressure is 65 by palpation.

Connor:  Okay, what's the clock?

Durant:  Fifteen minutes.  Maybe, we should check with Dover.

Connor:  Whatever's happening in Dover is happening here.  We keep going with what's in front of us. 

Frank to Cooley:  And how long have you been open?

Cooley:  Uh...six...six years.

Frank:  And where do you get your meat?

Connor, talking to himself:  The answer is here.

He visualizes the restaurant as it was during the day with all the customers eating their food, including the victims.

Connor:  What are the variables?

No bacteria, no bugs, no viruses...

Everyone would be down if it were airborne...

Everyone would be down if it were in the water...

250 people would be down if it was in the breakfast special, but only twelve got sick...

He pulls out his cell phone and calls Durant:  I need to know what they put on their food.

Durant:  Stephen, these people can barely speak.

Connor:  Find out what condiments they used.

 

As she goes to check, he continues to visualize the diner as it was during the day.

Durant:  They're all over the map with the condiments - ketchup, mustard, Tabasco.  Maybe, we should move off this, try another angle.

Connor:   What about salt and pepper?

Durant:  Did you hear me, Stephen?  Maybe, it's not there.

Connor:  Natalie, just ask them!

Durant sighs and goes to question the patients, again.

(later)

Durant:  Not all of them used pepper.  But, they all used salt.

Connor:  I'll call you back.  (He hangs up the phone.)

Connor:  Eleanor Cochran, Kyle Peters, Alesandra Denova, Sam Walker, Janice Handerford and Wes Douglas.  Of those six, how many were regulars?

Cooley:  You talking to me, the phone or your imaginary friends over there?

Waitress:  Wes is.  Eleanor.  Uh...Sandra's been coming here for a couple of years.

Connor:  Listen, regulars always sit in the same spot.  Where?

Waitress:  They sit in that section.  All of them.

Connor begins gathering up the salt shakers from that section:  I need spoons and a cup of vinegar.  Quickly!

Someone hands him four spoons:  Only three.

He fills the three spoons with vinegar.  Next, he pricks this finger and drops his blood into each spoon.  Then, he sprinkles the salt into the spoons.  The blood in one of them turns blue.

Connor:  This one's not salt.

Cooley:  What?

Connor:  Where's your salt supply?

Cooley leads them into a storage room:  It's right over here.

Connor:  When did it arrive?

Cooley:  Shipment came in last night.

Connor, inspecting the area:  Okay, so you cooked with this all day.  And you forgot to refill the shakers until this morning, when you filled only one - the one all the victims have in common.

Frank tests the salt in the bag:  It is sodium nitrate.

Connor:  Wait, wait, wait, wait.  But 35-40 people sat in those seats and most of them used salt.  We still don't have it.  Let's think - this diner, those customers, that salt shaker.  Why did only twelve people get sick when so many more were exposed?

Cooley:  I don't know, man, but I need a drink.

(later)

Connor, on the phone to Durant:  Start activated charcoal asorbic acid, methylene blue on all eleven victims, now.  Eleanor Cochran, first.

Durant:  You sure?

Connor:  Now!

 

As Connor packs up their equipment, Frank asks:  Are you sure?

Connor:  Someone had to make the call.

 

Dr. Miles McCabe is standing alone outside the Virginia hospital, where Kelly joins him.

Kelly:  Miles?

McCabe:  You know, I've only been on this job three weeks.  They sent me down here to make a diagnosis.  What if I'm wrong?

Kelly:  You're not wrong.

He turns around to see her holding a copy of the lab results.

 

In the car, on the way back to St. Jerome's Hospital.

Frank:  It's no fun playing God, huh?  Help this one, they live.  Don't help that one...

Connor:  Which makes this a hell of a job.

Frank:  You don't do this cause it's a job.  The reasonable man adapts himself to the world.  The unreasonable man fights to make the world adapt to him.  That's why all progress depends on the unreasonable man.

Connor's cell phone rings:  Yeah.

Durant:  Stephen, you won't believe what I'm looking at.

Connor:  They're better?

Durant:  They're better.

Connor hangs up the phone:  They're better.

Frank:  Yeah.

 

Baby Emma has been reunited with her parents.

McCabe:  Spontaneous bruising, hearing loss and the whites of her eyes turning blue led me to Brittle Bone Disease.  I'm not going to tell you that Brittle Bone Disease isn't serious.  It is.  But, Emma has Type One.  It's the mildest form, so with the right course of treatment and Kelly's help, I'm sure you can learn to manage it.

Mr. Haskell:  We'll do whatever we can.  Thank you.

McCabe:  I'm just glad you called us.

 

At St. Jerome's.

Durant:  That was it, sodium nitrate in the form of saltpeter.

Eva:  But, saltpeter is preservatives.  It's not supposed to make you sick.

Connor:  It usually doesn't...in small doses.  The victims got a dose of saltpeter from the breakfast special and an additional raw undiluted dose from the salt shaker.  They, also, had alcohol in their body.  Sodium nitrate deprives cells of oxygen - so does alcohol.  Put the two together, they were literally suffocating from the inside out.

Frank:  The bag of salt came from the Greggson & Mann food plant in New Jersey.  They, also, process saltpeter.  Somehow, the two got switched.

Connor:  They ship it to the Dover site?

Frank:  Plus a hundred other cities along the East Coast.

Connor to Frank:  Get a list of Greggson & Mann's customers, now. 

Connor to Eva:  The story you spent the last 12 hours trying to stop - let it roll.

Eva:  Got it.

 

In the dark basement of the hospital, Novak calls out:  Hello?!  A little help, please!

The light comes on and Eva is standing there.

Eva:  A rat maze down here, isn't it?

Novak:  You're going to jail.  Kidnapping, endangerment, stolen property.

Eva:  I have an incredible scoop for you, unless you get huffy.  In which case, I can speed dial the New York Times just as fast as I can tell you.

She offers him the phone's battery.  He takes it.

 

On a highway, a police car pulls over a truck belonging to Greggson & Mann Food Products.

 

In a kitchen, a young woman prepares a meal for her two children.  On the television, a newswoman announces:  We've just received word of an urgent recall of Greggson & Mann's food products.  Now, those most at risk include anyone with compromised immune systems, the young or the elderly.  So, if you have these items in your home, it is suggested that you return them to the store you purchased them at, new or used, for a full refund or simply throw them away.

The mother was about to use G & M's salt in the meal she was preparing for her children.

 

At St. Jerome's Hospital, all of the victims are sitting up and talking to their families and friends.

Durant:  One salt shaker.

Connor:  It's always one something.

As they head for the door, Dr. McCabe runs up to join them.

McCabe:  Hey, you guys leaving already?

Connor:  How was Richmond, McCabe?

McCabe:  Uh - it went very well.  I made the diagnosis.  Technically, it's osteogenesis imperfecta, but it's commonly known as...

Connor:  Brittle Bone Disease.  You don't see that every day.

McCabe:  Yeah.  I guess it was my day.

Connor:  Then, there's tomorrow.

 

A Little League softball game has just concluded.  Lisa Connor and her son, Jack, are leaving.

Lisa:  Pretty great, huh?  How'd that feel?

Connor runs up:  Hey!  How'd it go?

Jack:  You didn't miss much.  We got killed, 11-1.

Connor:  Eleven to one?

Lisa:  Yeah.  But, tell him how you did.

Jack:  Two hits.

Connor:  You got two hits?

Jack:  I just focus on the ball now.

Connor:  Focus on the ball...(He pulls Jack to him and gives him a big hug.)  I'm proud of you. 

Connor to Lisa:  Look, I know it's your weekend and all, but I was wondering if I could spend some time with him tomorrow.  You know, hit some balls around, just kinda hang out.  What do you say?

Lisa:  I think we can manage that.

Connor:  See you tomorrow, buddy.

Jack:  See ya, Dad.

Connor to Jack:  Good job.

Connor to Lisa:  Thank you.

As Lisa and Jack walk away, Connor's cell phone rings.  He looks at the number, but allows the phone to continue ringing for a while, then answers it:  Connor.