NIGHT ON THE LIVING DEAD - ACT THREE “The Television Will Not Save You”

Previously, on Night of the Living Dead, the farmhouse turned
fortress became a powder cake, and Ben was the man
holding the match. Harry Cooper clawed for control, Ben demanded respect.
The dead just wanted flesh, and when Fear took the
wheel out on that lonely road, the truck burned, Hope died,
and Sunrise started to look a lot like Judgment Act three,
where the masks fall, the guns come out, and Romero
proves the real monster was America. All along Act three,
the cellar door swings open. Helen and Harry step into
the hallway, faltering. They peer through the entrance way into
the living room. Harry, standing behind his wife, is hostile,
partially due to anger with himself because he has renigged
on his decision about the cell Helen, too, is overwrought
due to the emotional effect of the recent argument and
to the fact that she's about to meet strange people
in an anxious circumstance. But only Tom and Barbara are
in the living room, and Barbara, overcome with nervous exhaustion,
is sleeping fitfully on the couch.
We can see the broadcast. I think if the TV works,
I have to go help Ben.
Helen has gone immediately to Barbara, looks down at her sympathetically,
brushes back her hair and pulls the overcoat around her shoulders.
Poor thing. She must have been through a lot.
Harry, during these moments, has been flitting anxiously all over
the house, from door to window, to kitchen to living room,
checking out the actual degree of security and worrying about
imminence of attack at any second.
I think her brother was killed out there.
Tom, Hey, Tom, you gonna give me a hand with
this day.
Tom startles, aware of his procrastination, and bolts for the
upstairs to help Ben. Harry, pausing momentarily in his anxiety,
comes over to where his wife is looking after Barbara.
Her brother was killed.
This place is ridiculous. There's a million week spots up here.
We hear sounds from upstairs of Tom and Ben struggling
with the television set. They are making their way down
the steps.
I don't care, there's people up here. Why don't you
do something to help somebody.
Harry, not really hearing her, is staring once more into
the gloom outside.
I can't see a damn thing out there. There could
be fifty million of those things. I can't see a thing.
That's how much good these windows to us.
The truck driver, who with Tom, has reached the landing
with the heavy television set, has heard the last part
of Harry's remark. He glowers even as he moves with
his end of the burden, but says nothing. As he
and Tom gingerly deposit the TV in the center of
the room, They hunt for an outlet, find it, then
slide and walk the set until the court is close
enough to be plugged in. Ben kneels behind the set
to plug in the.
Cour Wake the girl up.
There's gonna be a thing on the tube. She might
as well know where she stands. I don't want anybody's
life on my hands, Harry.
Stop acting like a child.
I don't want to hear nothing else from you, mister.
If you stay up here, you take your orders from me,
and that includes leaving that girl alone.
She needs rest.
She's just about out of her head as it is now,
So now we're gonna just let her sleep at all,
and nobody's gonna touch her unless I say so.
Ben stares Harry down for at least a moment to
ascertain that he is at least temporarily silenced. Then his
hand plunges immediately to the television set. He snaps it on.
The occupants of the room jockey for vantage points, and
there are abated few seconds of dead silence as they
all wait to see if the set will actually warm up.
All eyes around the tube. A hiss begins, increases in volume.
Ben cranks the volume all the way. A glowing band
appears and spreads, filling the screen.
It's on, It's on.
There are murmurs of excitement and anticipation, but the tube
only shows nothing, no picture, no sound, just the glow
and hiss of the tube. Ben's hand raises the tuning dial.
Through the clicks of the various stations.
Play with the rabbit ears will you be able.
To get something, then fusses with horizontal and vertical, with
brightness and contrast. On one station he finally gets sound.
He adjusts the volume, the picture tumbles, he plays with
it and finally brings it in full screen. Is a
commentator in the middle of a news report. The people
in the room settle back.
To listen, assign little credibility to the theory that this onslaught
is a product of a mass hysteria. Authorities advise upmost
caution until the menace can be brought under absolute control.
Eyewitness accounts have been investigated and documented. Corpses of vanquished
aggressors are presently being examined by medical pathologists, but autops
the efforts have been hampered by the mutilated condition of
these corpses. Secure measures instituted in metropolitan areas include enforced
curfews and safety patrols by armed personnel. Citizens are urged
to remain in their homes. Those who ignore this warning
expose themselves to intense danger from the aggressors themselves and
from armed citizenry, whose impulse may be to shoot first
and ask questions later.
During the telecast, there are mixed feelings and reactions, but
these responses are sporadic and infrequent. Predominant mood of all
involved is to learn as much as possible from the telecast.
Rural or otherwise isolated dwellings have most frequently been the
objective of frenzied concerted attack. Isolated families are in extreme danger.
Escape attempts should be made in heavily armed groups and
by motor vehicle if possible. Appraise your situation carefully. Before
deciding upon an escape tactic. Fire is an effective weapon.
These beings are highly flammable. Escape groups should strike out
for the nearest urban community. Manned Events outposts have been
established on major arteries leading into all communities. These outposts
are equipped to defend refugees and to offer medical and
surgical assistance. Beliefs and vigilante groups are in the process
of combing remote areas and search and destroy missions against
all aggressors. These patrols are attempting to evacuate isolated families,
but rescue efforts are proceeding slowly due to the increased
danger of nightfall and the sheer enormity of the task.
Rescue for those in isolated circumstances is highly undependable. You
should not wait for a rescue party unless there is
no possibility of escape. If you are few against many,
you will almost certainly be overcome. The aggressors are rational
and demented. Their sole urge is the quest for human flesh.
Sheriff Conan W. McClelland of the county Department of Public
Protection was interviewed minutes after he and his vigil anti
patrol had vanquished several of the aggressors. We bring you
now the results of that interview.
Fade and segue to videotape. Interview open on wide shot
a night scene. Dense woods, posted guards maintain the periphery
of a small clearing. Sporadic gunfire can be heard in
the distance, some of the men's smoke, some talk in groups.
The area is illumined by a large bonfire. Sheriff mc
clelland is the focal figure. Medium close up, so that
as he talks we catch glimpses of activity in the background.
He is shouting commands, supervising defense measures and the burning
of the bodies, at the same time trying to answer
reporters questions. We cut or zoom closer. McClelland is pacing around,
not straying too far because a Lavalier microphone is hanging
on a cord around his neck. The crackle of the bonfire,
the shouts and bustle of activity can be constantly heard
behind his commentary. As he talks, he frequently turns away,
his primary concern being his efforts in dealing with the
aggressors and controlling his search party.
Here will this is a rough country for an evening hike,
but things ain't going too badly. The men are taking
it pretty well. We killed nineteen of them today right
around this general area. These last three we found trying
to claw their way into an abandoned mind. Shit, nobody
in there, but these things just pounding and clawing and
trying to bust their way in. It's funny in a way.
What's I thought there was people in there? We heard
the record, came blasted them down.
What's your opinion?
Then?
Can we defeat these things?
I ain't no problem. The only problem is whether we
can get to them before they kill off all these people.
But me and my men we can handle them.
Okay.
We ain't lost nobody or suffered any casualties. I got
to do is shoot for the eyes. You can tell
anybody out there, all you gotta do is draw a shot,
beat and shoot for the eyes. Or he beat them
down and loped their heads.
Off, then I'd have a decent chance, even if I
was surrounded by two or three of them.
Or if you had yourself a club or a good torch,
you can home off for learn.
Them to death.
They catch fire like nothing, go up like wax paper.
But the best thing is to shoot them in the eyes.
You don't wait for us to rescue you, because if
it gets you too far out numbered, you've had it.
And we're doing our best. But we only got so
many men and a whole lot of open country to come.
But you think you can bring these things under control.
Oh, we got things in our favor. Now, it's only
a question of time. Wait for certain how many there
are them things, But we know that when we find them,
we're going to be able to kill them. So it's
a matter of time. They're weak, but there are plenty
of them, and so don't wait for no rescue party.
Arm yourself to the teeth, get together in a group
and try and make it to a rescue station. That's
the best way. But if you're loone, you got to
sit stock still, wait for help, and we'll try like
hell to get there before they Oh, tail, I'm gonna
shoot for the eyes. That'll stop them.
Load jobbers. You have heard Sheriff Conan W.
McClellan for the County Department of Public Protection. This is
your civil defense emergency network with reports every hour on
the hour for the duration of this emergency. Remain in
your homes, keep all doors and windows locked, do not
under any.
Circle, then reaches over and clicks off the television.
What'd you click it off for?
Man said, they only come on every hour. We heard
all we need to know. We got to get out of.
Here, he said. The rescue stations have doctors and medical supplies.
If we could get there, they could help Karen.
How are we going to bust out of here?
We got a sick kid, two women, one of them
out of her head, and three men, and there's a
million of them things outside.
Willard has a checkpoint there about about seventeen miles from here.
Well you from here? You noticed area? Yeah?
Yeah, I was working in the cemetery across the road.
I'm the caretaker. Two of them things attacked me and
I high tailed it over here. Found everybody wiped out
not too long after. These other people fought their way
in here, and I was scared, but I opened the
basement door and I let them in.
Unbeknownst to everybody else, Barbara has been sitting up listening.
Now she speaks, startling them and gathering their attention. She
has come down from her hysteria, but it's very weak.
You work in the cemetery. My brother is over there.
You poor thing. My girl is hurt too. We have
to get to a rescue station. The television told us
we have to try and escape.
Well, I think we ought to stick right here and
wait for a rescue park. He said, if you are
few against many, you don't have a chance. We can't
tramp sementine miles through those things.
He ain't got to tramp what trust outside the door?
This stops, Harry. There is a moment of silence.
But uh, I'm just about out of gas. But there's
a pump, need a shed outside, it's just locked.
The key ought to be around somewhere. There's a big
key ring in the basement.
I'm gonna go. Look the keys are labeled.
Is there a fruit seller? Yeah, Why, we're gonna need
lots of jars.
We can make Molotov cocktails, scare those things back, and
then fight our way to the pump and.
Gas up the truck.
Oh, we're gonna need kerosene. There's a jug in the
basement too.
Barbara and I can help. We can rip up sheets
and things.
Here's the key ring. The pump kare is marked with
a piece of tape. Good that settles that question. But
we should take a crow bar anyway. In case the
key don't work. The crowbar can double this weapon for
whoever goes with me.
But I don't want to get all the way out
there and find out that pump won't open.
All go.
Yeah, you and me can fight our way to the pump.
The women can stay in the cellar and take care
of the kid. We should have a stretcher. Barbara and
Helen can do that.
Harry, you're gonna have to guard the upstairs once we
onboard the door. Those things can get in here easy.
But me and Tom got to get back in here too.
Once we get back with the truck. You got to
guard the door and unlock it for us. Then we'll
board it up as fast as we can because those
things are gonna come fast.
On our heels.
All right now, if we don't get back, well, then
you'll be able to see from.
Upstairs, and you can.
You can barricade the door again and go to the basement,
and then you can just sit down there and wait
for your rescue party.
I want the gun. Then it's the best thing for
me to year is you're you're not gonna have time.
To stop it.
Aim or I'm keeping this gun nobody else lays a
hand on it.
I found it in his mine. You don't care what
happens to us.
How do we know you and time won't just take
the truck and cut out.
That's the chance you're gonna have to take. If we
cut out, you'll have your goddamn basement. Like you be
crying about this whole time.
We're gonna die here if we don't all work together.
My brother's out there. Maybe we can get him and
bring him back.
He's just wounded. He'll be okay.
That's okay, honey, we'll be all right. Maybe your brother
will be two.
Let's get busy. We've got a lot to do if
we're gonna bust out of here.
He is on his feet, taking command. We fade out
of the scene, fade into a new scene, completion of
escape preparations. Tom's pouring kerosene into fruit jars. Helen is
dipping twisted rag fuses and kerosene in the bottom of
a dish. Barbara comes from the kitchen with more jars,
drying them on the outside and putting them on the table.
She and Helen begin working the kerosene soaked fuses through
the holes, which Thomas cut from the jar lids. Between
them is a crude stretcher made of broomsticks and torn sheets,
This presumably for the wounded girl Karen. The television is off,
but the radio drones lowly repeating the recorded message. The
radio is on as a monitor only that they might
work and still keep up with news that may affect
their situation.
I don't know what to think about my brother. We
have to get out of here a bit. Maybe we'll
find him in Willard. Maybe he was able to crawl
to the car and get away.
We have to think of ourselves now. It's hard for you,
but it's all we can do. My girl is getting
worse too. I have to get her a doctor.
Roomsticks and belt buckles and old sheets. She's told okay,
I always hated the boy scouts.
It'll be okay. Is there anything open upstairs?
Some windows in the room. Spinner's unfastening the doors.
Now, we'll throw the cocktails from upstairs. Just just splash
the whole area with them. That you keep most of
them away while we break for the truck.
We're ready. Here comes Ben now.
Ben, the gun strapped around his back, is carrying a
crowbar and claw hammer. He walks around checking preparations, smiles
at Barbara, glad to see she's a little better.
All right, things are ready up there now, Me and
Tom on board the front door.
Harry, you take the two women upstairs. Carry the maltop
cocktails with you.
Soon as the door's unbarred, we gonna throw those things
all over the place.
Make sure they catch fire. Good. Then the women bust
out here and getting the cellar. Don't forget to stretcher
all right.
When we hear footsteps on the stairs, me and Tom
will be gone.
He'd be up to you. Harry. You gotta wash this door.
Got yourself a good length of pipe. I have a
pitch fork. Good, good, Okay.
Tom and Ben go over to the door. The others garry, fruit, jars, etc.
And sneak quietly to the unboarded room upstairs. Tom and
Ben are left alone. Tom is soaking a table leg
and curiousene that it's alighted for use as a torch.
They fall to work on the door, the painstaking work
of quietly undoing the barricade. They do not want to
give alarm to the lurking things outside. With crowbar and
claw hammer, very careful both men working on each separate
piece of lumber, they undo the barricade. Each nail creek
is a menace. They are alert to the constant danger.
They finish and watch, posting themselves anxiously by the door.
Shadowy figures lurk in the dark outside. Tom and Ben
wait for the Molotov shower to begin. A cry is heard,
A window flies open to the first fiery blaze lights
in the yard. More follow, some aimed for the creatures themselves.
One or two catch fire, the others start to back away.
The entire field is lit up. Bons shower from.
Upstairs that's open run far.
His voice echoes as Tom and Ben burst into the yard.
They are armed with torches and with a gun. They
leap into the truck. Tom plunges a torch into the
chest of an attacker Block, who immediately catches fire and
goes down in blaze. Clutching the trush. The truck starts
up in korems and a hue turn for the old shed.
Attackers fall away. It starts out. Ben aimes fires several shots,
most miss. The truck jounces toward the gas pump across
the yard, but one creature goes down at the front
of the gas pump near the old shed. Tom and
Ben leap out. Attackers are starting to make their way
to them from across the yard. Tom fumbles with the
key to the locked pump. Ben shoves him back hurriedly
aims the guy. The gun fires, blowing the locks of pieces.
Gas burts out all over the place. Creatures advance. Gas
still spurting, Tom cramped the nozzle into the mouth of
the gas tank in the back of the truck. Ben
crouches and levels off with his weapon. An approaching attacker
goes down, but more are coming in. Tom's torch has
inadvertently set fire to the Dow's truck. The flames begin
to lick and spread. The attackers gather in force ever closer.
Tom leaps into the flaming truck. It skids and lurches
across the yard. Ben shouts to no affair. The flaming
truck speeds away, driven by the panic Tom. Several of
the things are upon Ben. He crashes and pounds them
with torch and god Ignoring Tom, he has to try
and fight his way back to the house. From inside
the house, the panicked and cowardly Harry has only seen
pieces of the action. He has been darting back and
forth from door to window and trying to see what
has been happening outside. From his viewpoint. The escape attempt
has met with total doom. He has seen the truck
catch fire, driven away by Tom. Ben appears to be overwhelmed.
Harry runs again to the door. He sees the truck
completely in flames, speeding away from the house toward a
small rise back to the kitchen window. Ben is about
to be overcome things all around him. Harry does not
see as Tom jumps from the burning truck to be
seized by attacking Ghules. The truck, continuably unmanned from the
far rise and explodes violently, the noise and flames shattering
the night. Several Ghuls are at the front door, trying
to beat their way into the house. From inside, Harry
is in complete tone. He cannot hold out. All is lost.
He pants and bolts for the cellar, but Ben has
slugged his way through the attackers on the porch.
Look it.
He is pounding for admission at the front door. He
turns and with a powerful lunch, kicks the last attacker
off the porch. On the rebound, he plows his shoulder
against the door. It crashes open, the lock broken, and
Ben bursts in time to catch Harry at the cellar door,
But there is no time. Ben frantically turns to reboarding
the door. His eyes meet Harry's for an instant, then
they both fall to work. They board up the door.
They are temporarily safe. They turn and look at each other,
sweat streaming from each face. Harry knows what is coming.
Ben's fist crashes against Harry's face. He is driven back,
one punch following another until Ben corns him, Clenching his
lapels against the wall. Ben's words spit out, each word
punctuated by an additional slam of Harry against the wall.
Right now, it's time to cross some water. I'll kill you.
Ben slams him one final time. He slides down the wall,
crumples on the floor. His face is swollen, he is
streaming blood. Ben is already at the cellar door.
Come on, it's us, It's all over. Thomas dead fade out.
The survivors are gathered in the living room. Barbara and
Helen are slumped on the sofa, overwhelming mood of hopelessness
and despair. Harry sulks in a corner, his head slung back,
his face swollen. He is holding an ice pack against
his eye. His good eye follows Ben, who is pacing
about the room. Where Ben's pacing takes him to the
kitchen or to some area out of Harry's sight. The
good eye, nervously relaxing. Ben's movements make virtually the only sound.
He is checking the fences by force of old habit,
rather than hope. The rifle is slung on his back.
For a long time we dwell on the scene, on
the absolute dejectedness of the prisoners within the barricaded house.
Ben paces from door to kitchen to window. He starts
to go upstairs, stops, checks himself, goes to the door again.
He looks at his watch.
Ten minutes to three. There'll be another broadcast in ten minutes.
Nobody says anything. Ben pulls back the curtain. His eyes
grow suddenly wide, but he watches. For a long moment.
We see his view of the outside. There are many
ghuls lurking in the shadows of the hanging trees. Some
of the things are in the open, much nearer to
the house than they dared come before. Remains of charred
bodies are dimly apparent from various parts of the lawn,
but Ben's eyes are fastened on a more grisly scene
at the engine lock in the moonlight, several ghuls devouring
what had once been tomed. They rip tear into aspects
of his body, ghouls teeth biting into Tom's arms and hands.
Ben stares, fascinated, and the pulsed with a convulsive movement.
His fingers release the curtain. He turns, shaken and faces
the others, beads of perspiration dripping from his forehead.
Don I know, none of you look out there. You
won't like what you see.
Harry's good eye fastens on. Ben watches him, satisfied and
contemptuous to see the big man weaken. Ben moves for
the television, clicks it on. Barber's scream pierces the Ben
leaps back from the teleision. She is on her feet,
screaming uncontrollably.
Never get here, none of us.
We'll never get out of her.
Lie, shine, shine, Before anyone can move to her, she
chokes up as suddenly she began, and slumps, sobbing violently
to the couch, her face buried in her hands. Helen
tries to soothe her, but great sobs come racking from
deep within. She grows gradually quiet. The sobs diminish, but
she remains slumped on the couch, her face covered with
her hands. Helen covers her with the overcoat, but this
action seems futile. Barbara makes no movement whatsoever. Ben allows
himself to sink very slowly into a chair in front
of the TV. Harry's good eye goes from Barbara to Ben.
His eye fastens on the gun, which Ben lowers but
first to the floor. Leans across his legs. Ben threads
his arm through the fringe sling and maintains his grip
on the four piece.
Harry watches, Ah, I'm going to the cellar to take
care of Karen. Come on, honey, come and talk to me.
It will make you feel better.
But Barbara makes no response. Helen turns and starts for
the cellar door. She has to squeeze past Harry's chair furtively,
his eye on Ben, Harry touches her and pulls her
towards him. She too watches Ben. She knows something is up.
Ben remains transfixed before the TV. He is lost in thought.
His mind drifts somewhere. There is nothing on the screen,
just a dull glow and low hiss over scanning lines
and static. He has turned the set on too early.
I've gotta get that gun. We can go to the cellar.
You have to help me.
He has let the ice pack come away from his eye.
We see it as swollen in blackened condition, and the
desperation on his face. Ben still gazes at the TV,
worried about the possibility that Ben might catch them in
the act, and not really sympathizing with Harry. Helen pulls away,
but she leans her to Harry's and whispers quickly.
I'm not going to help you. Haven't you had enough?
He'd kill us both.
She goes to the cellar and on the way has
to pass behind Ben's chair. She hesitates, her eyes fall
on the gun. The sling is wound around Ben's arm.
We study her face. It is not clear whether she
would have taken it or not, but she makes no attempt.
She opens the door and goes down into the cellar.
Harry's eye follows her as she leaves. As Helen reaches
the bottom of the cellar stairs, she looks up and
her face shows startlement, a shaken smile. Her daughter is
sitting up, propped on her elbows on the work bench
table Okaarin. She starts for her, but stops. There is
something strange. Her face turns slowly toward her. We see
the ghoulish look in her eye. She begins to rise slowly, terrifyingly,
her features grow tee. The coat that was her blanket
begins to fall away. Her eyes stare through Helen and
beyond her, slowly agonizingly. As he raises herself from the table, Helen, terrified,
begins to back away across the cellar. Her hand falls
on a knife. Her child creeps toward her. She moves
a large packing crate, trying to block her path, trying
to stave the confrontation, but she is too late. She springs.
It appears as though the knife will be driven into
her breast, but on the spring. We cut to the upstairs,
where simultaneously a scream pierces the room. An assault has begun.
The things are beginning to break into the house. They've
gotten into the den and are hammering at the barricaded door.
The walls are studying to come apart. Ben is on
his feet trying to reinforce the barricades with hammer and crowbar.
He works furiously.
Harry, Harry, go ahead over here.
Harry comes over behind Ben and instead of helping, rips
the gun from Ben's back. Holding the gun on Ben,
Harry backs toward the cellar. Ben turns around. Hannicked, the
things are breaking into the house.
What are you up to?
Man?
We gotta get these things out of the house.
Now we'll see who's going to show how.
I'm going to the cellar and you can ride up here,
you cray bastard.
His hand goes behind him to the cellar door, but
at that moment, the ghoulish Karen leaps upon him with
great thuds. Karen is at Harry's throat. Ben is able
to grab the gun. He levels off, trying to hit
the kid, but a sudden wrench of the two struggling
bodies and Ben misses. Harry screams. A great clot of
blood appears at his chest. Clutching the wound, he begins
to go down. He falls through the entranceway to the
cellar stairs. He reels, grabs the banister and begins to descend.
We see his view as he falls really head thirst
down the stairs. Ben, meantime, has flung the kid Karen
with one heave against the wall, but things have broken
into the house everywhere. The barricades are coming apart. Barbara,
with a hysteria of her Ben, has flung herself into
her attacks. She smashes a chair again front of the aggressors,
goes down. He smashes and smashes it on the floor
until there is nothing left of the chair. She winds
up still swinging, fighting with Ben against the things that
have come into the house. It's quite apparent that they
cannot hold out the attack. Rageously, they are overwhelmed. Ben
grabs Barbara and pulls her after him towards the cellar.
She is lashing and swinging, beating at an attacker even
as he drags her. Ben things open the door to
the cellar and Helen is at his throat. He brings
the gun up between their struggling bodies until the muzzle
it is against her throat and squeezes the trigger. She
is blown halfway across the room. Ben and Barbara run
down the stairs, but Harry is sprawled in a pool
of blood on the floor. He is dead. To rise.
Ben pushed Barbara back. She turned her head away. Ben
raises the gun and we study this as three evenly
spaced shots rip the room. Ben is almost glad to
kill Harry. He turns to Barbara, breathing hard. She collapses
against him and begins to sob. We hear faint pounding
against the barricaded cellar door, but it is holding the
creatures cannot get in. The screen is black. There are
sounds of birds, fainter sounds of dogs. Human voices fade
up quickly sunrise, the morning after the siege. The sky
is clear. The rising sun is bright and warm. There
is dew and the high grass of a meadow. Men
with dogs and guns reworking their way up from the
woods that surround the meadow. We do not see the
posse at first. We merely hear their sounds, shouts, muffled talk,
panting and straining of dogs against lecies share McClellan's posse.
A few men, some with German shepherds unleashes, finally come
up out of the woods and onto the edge of
the sunlit dewy meadow. The wet grass is damp in
the boots and trouser legs of the men McClelland is
perhaps the third man up from the surrounding thicket. He
is a heavy man, mustached, breathing hard because of his
weight and the difficult job of leading the posse through
the night. He is armed with shotgun and pistol and
a belt of ammunition strung over his shoulder. He pauses,
looks back into the woods and mops perspiration from his
brow with a bald up dirty handkerchief.
Come on, but steph loudly now. Never can't tell we'll
run into up here.
It costs a man just climbing up out of the woods.
The man wears an improvised sweatband, carries a rifle in
side arm, and has a walky talkie strapped on his back.
You keep it in touch with the squad cars, George, Yeah,
they know where we are.
They should be intercepting us at the house. Good.
These men is dog tired. They could use some rest
and hot coffee. Let's push you along now. The squad
cars will be waiting with coffee and sandwiches at the house.
The men push on across the field. Inside the house,
Ben and Barbara have been dozing on chairs in the basement.
Ben wakes abruptly, thinking he has heard something, but he
isn't sure. He sits up and listens more closely. From
far off, there's the sound of a dog. Ben listens
for a long time, but here's nothing more. Outside. The
meadow has become the apron of a cemetery, the one
Barbara and John had come to with the flowers for
their father. The posse is advancing, threading its way among
the grave markers. A man finds John's skeletal remains near
the spot where he had fallen. Down the dirt road
and up a short grade is Barbara's car with a
smashed window, and.
It looks like this guy's car or a fella never
had a chance.
The men pass through the cemetery and over the wall,
where several squad cars are waiting on the road. There
are also one or two motorcycle patrolmen. One of the
men dismounts and hails McClelland.
Hi, Kenny has things going.
McClelland advances and shakes hands, stops a while, mops his
brow again. The men begin to catch up and regroup.
The posse fills the bend in the narrow road.
He sure glad to see you, Phillis, Charlie. We've been
at it all night, but I don't want to break.
Can we get in that house over there? We might
be lolligagging around while somebody needs our help. We'll see
first in stop and get some coffee.
Anything you say, Connie.
Inside the house, Ben has sneaked up to the top
of the cellar stairs. He listens there very intently, not
wanting to open the door because creatures may still be
in the house this time, for sure. He hears gunshots
and a mumbled sound of what must be voices of
approaching men. There is even what sounds like a car engine.
Ben bolts excitedly down the stairs. Ben wakes the.
Girl, Barbara Barber here, honeyed it. There's men outside of
up I can hear. He must be here to rescue us.
Outside we see the cause of the gunshots. The Posse
is flushing out ghules from the pump house and surrounding area.
The squad cars have driven up. The posse is advancing
across the lawn guardedly toward the partially destroyed old farmhouse.
The men crouch and sneak up, slowly, keeping their eyes
fastened on the house. A loud sudden noise stops them.
They watch, stopped in their tracks.
Shoot for the eyes, boys, like I told you before,
always aim.
Right for the eyes inside, ready to shoot or swing.
Ben has slammed open the cellar door. The force of
his shoulder against the door has carried him into the
living room. Nothing only the ramshackle and destruction from the
recent siege. He edges his way through the twisted wreckage
and overturned furniture toward the There is no light in
the place. His hand finds what is left of the curtain.
He pulls it back and starts to peer out, but
a shot rings out. Ben reels driven back, a circle
of blood on his forehead right between his eyes. Barbara's
scream is heard from downstairs. Simultaneously, McLellan shouts, his face
flushed with anger.
Damn it, what your ship for?
I told you to be careful.
There might be people in there.
Nah, this place is demolish.
There ain't nobody in there.
I'm sure I heard the girls scream from maybe the basement.
Several men have advanced to kick in the front door.
They step back and peer cautiously inside, their faces search
the room. A patch of sunlight from the open door
falls partially on Ben. He is dead. The men look
down at him, but step past him toward the cellar.
They do not know he was a man. From the cellar,
they hear muffled sobs. McClellan enters and begins to inch
his way down the stairs.
Anybody down there.
He draws his pistol, inches his way down the stairs.
At the bottom he confronts Barbara, sitting wide eyed in
a chair. McClellan raises his pistol, aims it for her head,
but something stops him, a tear in her eye. He
lowers the weapon.
It's all right, men, come on down.
It's just a girl down here.
He goes to Barbara, bends over her, looks at her,
begins to help her up. Closing scene with titles and credits.
Burning of bodies in the yard of the old house,
perhaps the burning of the house itself. In the background,
against the scene of mc clellan draping his jacket around
Barbara and bringing coffee to her lips, we see Bend's
body on a stretcher carried by two men. They lifted
into the rear of a station wagon.
It's too bad, an accident. The only blush. We had
the whole night, the end. Naturally you do make you