OTTO958

EXT. CEMETERY - DUSK
It is an ordinary dusk of normal quiet and shadow. The
gray sky contains a soft glow from the recent sun, so that
trees and long blades of grass seem to shimmer in the
gathering night. There is a rasp of crickets, and the
rustle of leaves in an occasional whispering breeze.
Transitions are easy and gradual, with relaxed studies of
earth, grass and leafy branches on a high-mounded hill.
Revelation of cemetery markers does nothing to disrupt the
peacefulness of our established mood; when awareness comes,
it is almost as though we have known where we were all
along. We are in a typical rural cemetery, conceivably
adjacent to a small church ...

Although the presence of a church is felt rather than
confirmed. The stones range from small identifying slates
to monuments of careful design…an occasional Franciscan
Crucifix, or a carved image of a defending angel. Over a
hundred years of death indicated in stones syllabic with
their year and the status of the families they represent.
Over the other night sounds is added the gravel-rumble of a
slow-moving car. A wider shot reveals the car and the
mounded cemetery, as the car pulls into the gate and moves
down one of the cemetery roads, the car passes in extreme
foreground and moves away from the camera. In the breeze
of its passing, the dead leaves that clutter the little
road swirl and move.

Beyond the distant trees, the last receding gray of dusk in
surrendering to the black. The car continues. When the car
stops, we feel the absence of its sounds…replaced by the
crickets and the subtle wind. Even as the car is still
rocking slightly form its stopping action, we cut to a shot
through the driver window at the occupants of the car. The
DRIVER is a young man in his mid-twenties, and his
PASSENGER is a young woman, his sister. The man is in
shirtsleeves with a loosened tie. His suit-coat is on the
clothing hook over the back seat. The girl is wearing a
simple but attractive summer suit, with the jacket removed
and folded on her lap. She is fussing with her purse,
while the man shuts off engine, lights, and leans back to
yawn and stretch his legs. The girl closes a potato chip
bag, brushes crumbs, fluffs her hair ... typical feminine
gestures after a long ride. The man stretches again.

BARBARA
They ought to make the day the
time changes the first day of
summer. Then two good things
would happen all at once.
A little laugh from the man as he straightens his tie.

BARBARA
I love the long days and the extra sun.

JOHN
A lot of good the extra daylight
does me. i lost an hour’s sleep.
And it’s dark already, and we
still have a three-hour drive, and
we won’t get back till after
midnight.

Barbara reaches down to put her shoes on.

BARBARA
If it really dragged you that
much, you wouldn’t do it.

JOHN
Are you kidding? I certainly
don’t want to blow sunday on this
scene. We’re gonna either have to
move mother to Parkville or move
the grave to pittsburgh.

BARBARA
Oh, you’re just being silly.
Mother can’t make a drive like
this.

John reaches to the back seat and produces a flowered,
cross-shaped grave ornament. In the center of the cross, in
gold script on a red field, is written “We Still Remember”

JOHN
Look, twenty-five dollars ... “We
Still Remember”... I don’t, you
know it ... I don’t remember what
the guy looks like.

BARBARA
Johnny ... it takes you five minutes.

JOHN
Three hours... no, six hours ...
six hours and five minutes.

Barbara continues to primp and straighten her outfit. John
hands her the grave ornament and leans forward to struggle
into his suit jacket.

JOHN
Mother wants to remember. So we
have to drive four-hundred miles
to plant a cross on a grave, as if
he’s staring up through the ground
to check out the decorations ...
(he points at the cross
inscription)
... we have to remember ... and
she stays at home.

BARBARA
Johnny, we’re here ... all right?

She opens her door and turns to step out. John takes the
keys from the ignition and drops them into his pocket.

JOHN
Hey ... hey, Barb, you know the
radio’s been on all this time ...
(Tighter Shot of Radio)

VOICE
Ladies and gentlemen ... please
forgive ... what ... hey, you got
a signal, Charlie? ...

JOHN
It must have been the station.

VOICE:
... do not be al ...

John clicks the radio off. He gets out of the car and
walks around the front of it, trotting to catch up with his
sister. It is obvious that she didn’t hear him. He
catches up to her and starts to repeat his discovery about
the radio.

JOHN
Hey, the radio is okay, it’s
just ...

Barbara is more interested in finding the row containing
their father’s grave.

BARBARA
You remember which row its in?

JOHN
(Momentarily forgetting the
radio)
Huh? Oh, it’s over here, I
think...

They start in his suggested direction.

JOHN
Did you hear the radio?

BARBARA
(Looking ahead, trying to
spot the grave)
Hmmm?

JOHN
The radio’s fixed. Must’ve been
the station, not the radio.

BARBARA
(Still searching intently,
she tosses this Line away)
Good ... you won’t be as bitchy
driving home.

Their jibes at each other are not really in anger, but are
typical of brother-sister annoyance. They walk through the
row of gravestones in the growing darkness.

JOHN
(Making conversation, with no
more Significance than a
comment about the weather)
Nobody around.

BARBARA
Well, it is late. If you’d get up
a little earlier ...

JOHN
I already lost an hour’s sleep on
the time change.

BARBARA
Oh, sometimes I think you complain
just to hear yourself talk.

JOHN
An hour earlier and it’d still be
light. (He squints into the dusk)
It’s hard enough to find in the
light.

BARBARA
There it is.
(She points)
They move toward a grave with a standard rectangular
stone. It is an unkept grave, its outline cropped and
overgrown with grass and wilted flowers. John takes the
flowered cross and, stepping close to the headstone, embeds
its wire-prong base into the earth, as he rambles on.

JOHN
Wonder what happened to the one
from last year? Every year
twenty-five bucks for one of these
things, and the one from last year
is gone....

We hear Barbara’s voice. The camera stays on John as he
builds up some dirt around the base of the ornament.

BARBARA
The flowers die.... and the
caretaker or somebody takes them
away...

JOHN
(Standing, brushing himself off)
Yeah, a little spit and polish and
they can sell them again. I
wonder how many times we’ve bought
the same...

He doesn’t finish, in standing he sees his sister with a
pair of rosary beads and he stops talking.
She is praying silently, looking down at the ground. John
straightens his tie and buttons his jacket. He steps
behind his sister, puts his hands in his pockets, and rocks
nervously on one foot. She continues to pray. John looks
around the cemetery.

The stones are soft and white... they seem very pale.
There are a few moving shadows. The sounds of the night
seem louder, but this is only because they have stopped
talking. The situation does not seem ominous. John is
merely bored. In the distance, a huddled figure is walking
among the graves.

JOHN
(Glancing at his watch)
C’mon, Barb, church was this morning...

The girl continues her prayers. John lights a cigarette,
idly exhales the first puff of smoke and looks around
again.

The huddled figure still moves slowly among the graves.
John turns to his sister and is about to say something but
sees her making the sign of the cross and dropping her
beads in her purse. She turns from the grave and they both
start to walk slowly away.

JOHN
(Slightly uncomfortable about
urging her to leave)
Well ... I mean ... prayin’s for
church.

BARBARA
I haven’t seen you in church
lately.

JOHN
Well, grandpa told me I was damned
to hell ... (He says this lightly,
looking ahead to a large tree. He
smiles.) You remember? Right
here... I jumped out at you from
behind that tree ... Grandpa got
all excited ... “You will be
damned ta hell” ...

Barbara smiles.

JOHN
Right here, I jumped out from
behind that tree at you.
Barbara expresses annoyance.

JOHN
You used to be so scared here.

BARBARA
Johneee!
(With forced irritation)

JOHN
(Laughing, playfully)
You’re still afraid...

BARBARA
Stop it... I mean it...

JOHN
(Mockingly)
...They’re gonna get you,
Barbara...

BARBARA
Stop it.. You’re ignorant...

JOHN
They’re coming for you,
Barbara .... They’re gonna get
you... (He leers at her, as though
he is about to pounce).

BARBARA
(Becoming a little nervous)
Johnny, stop...

JOHN
(Mockingly ominous)
They’re coming out of their
graves ... after you... they’re
coming... to get you...

With this, John throws up his arms and his voice rises.
The figure moving among the graves stops, and stands for a
moment. Barbara glances toward the figure and momentarily
her anxiety turns to embarrassment.

BARBARA
(As we cut back to her)
You’re acting like an idiot.

John speaks in a low tone now, glancing at the figure as
they draw closer in their perpendicular paths. John’s
remarks now are directed to Barbara, as though he didn’t
want the old man to hear...

JOHN
Here comes one of them now...

BARBARA
(Walking faster)
He’ll hear you...

JOHN
Coming to get you...

Barbara purses her lips in anger. The couple is now only a
few yards from intersection their path with the old
figure...

JOHN
(In a mocked-panic whisper)
I’m getting’ outa here...

He bolts and runs up the path.

BARBARA
John ....

Embarrassed, she cuts herself short and continues to walk,
more rapidly now. Up the path, beyond the intersection of
the man’s row. John stops, laughing, and turns to look
back at his sister. She is near the place where the paths
meet, and so is the old man. We cut close to her. She is
looking down in embarrassed silence, aware of her proximity
with the old man. She feigns poise, and as she makes the
intersection looks up nervously to deliver a socially
necessary smile to the old mourner...

The old man lunges at the girl, his hand grabs at her
hair. A frightened gasp chokes her. She is coughing. The
man grips her arm and slashes at her clothing. She flails
about choking trying to yell....

JOHN
(Horrified)
Hey... god...

The man is all over Barbara, unable to hold her in her
violent flailing. His grabbing tears her jacket and
scratches her face. He seems to be trying to bite her arm.
John leaps at the man. The three fall to the ground,
Barbara kicking, and beating with her purse. John gets a
firm hold on the man and Barbara is able to wrench free.
The man is thrashing wildly at all parts of John’s body.
They struggle to their feet, the figure thrashes, beats,
tears like an animal... John clutches at him and they fall
in a heap. In the darkness, their form is as one thrashing
thing.

Barbara screams wildly. The two men make animal sounds.
One figure gains the advantage and slams his fists down
against the other’s head. Barbara is panic-stricken. Her
screams turn to frenzied gasps as she finds a tree limb and
snatches it up. But when she looks up, she sees that one
has vanquished the other. She stops in her tracks. Night
sounds. A close shot makes it clear that John is lying
limply on the ground with the other man hunched over his
form. The man is doing something with the limp body, still
ripping at it... perhaps groping for money... Barbara
cannot tell...

BARBARA
Johnee....

The old man freezes and looks up. The girl raises her club
and rushes toward him. He jumps into a half-standing
position, like an animal hunched to spring... Barbara stops
in her tracks. The man is breathing heavily. She starts
to back away. The man holds very still. She backs
further... Faster... total fear. The man starts to move
slowly... cat-like. He steps over the body.
Barbara drops the club and breaks into a dead run down the
path. She screams. The man moves after her, but he is
considerably slower that she, with seeming difficulty in
moving. He appears almost crippled.

In a flailing run, Barbara reaches the car, sobbing. She
yanks open the door. She can hear the man drawing nearer.
She scrambles into the front seat and slams the door
shut ... No key. The man draws nearer, seeming to move
faster, more desperate to reach the girl. Barbara sobs ...
she clenches the steering wheel. The driver’s window is
open, she struggles to roll it up ... then pushes the lock
button. The man is upon the car. Barbara dives across the
seat to slam down the passenger-side lock button. The man
rips at the door handles and pounds violently at the car.
The girl starts screaming again. The man.. Pounding..
Clawing ... he grabs a stone from the road ... the
passenger window shatters into thousands of little cracks.
Another pound sends the stone through the window, and hands
grab through the opening to peel away the flakes of glass
in sections. Barbara’s screams become more violent.
She summons enough presence of mind to reach for the
emergency brake. The man pounds and flails at the window.
The car, at the top of a long grade, slowly starts to
drift. The man struggles to hold it ... to rip out the
glass ... his arm breaks through, his sleeve is ripped and
tattered ... the hand grabs at the inside of the door ...
the car moving faster ... the man struggles to cling ... he
is forced to trot after the car ... faster ... he losses
his footing ... grabs at the fender, the bumper. He falls
into the road ... the car gains momentum. The man regains
his footing and starts after the car. It is moving
faster. Barbara is frozen in the driver’s seat, clenching
the wheel. The road ahead is black ... the speed is
frightening ... she pulls the light switch ... The
headlights dance beams of light among the trees. The beams
reveal the grade in the road, which is narrowing to one car
width, and, about two hundred feet ahead, the downhill
grade ends and an uphill grade begins. In desperation, the
girl looks out the rear window. Against the sky, in the
light from the cemetery gate, the man is still coming after
them. In panic, she looks about. She is still in the
cemetery proper. Rows of graves on both sides of the
road. No lights from houses, no signs of life. The car
slows. It’s momentum carries it some distance up the
upgrade. Barbara glances backwards ... the man is moving
faster toward her ... she is terrified... the car reaches a
full stop. There is increased panic in her face ... as
she forgets herself and the car begins to drift
backward ... toward the man, as he draws nearer. The car
picks up momentum, carrying her toward her pursuer.

She grabs at the emergency brake and yanks it tight, the
lurch of the car throwing her against the seat. She
struggles with the door handle; the button pops up ... the
man draws nearer ... she breaks from the car. The man
keeps coming, desperately trying to move faster ...
Barbara runs, off the roadway and onto the turf of the
cemetery. She falls ... kicks her shoes off ... gets up
and keeps running. The man is still after her. She reaches
a low stone wall which marks the end of the cemetery. She
struggles over it and looks ahead for a moment to get her
bearings. Across a main highway is a darkened gasoline
station, and beyond it an old house. She pants heavily,
glancing up and down the highway ... but there is no sigh
of traffic. The man is nearing the low cemetery wall. She
breaks into a run across the highway.
The gasoline station shows no signs of life. It is old and
decrepit. One light is out over the pumps. The pump house
and surroundings are nearly lost in shadow. Some fifty
yards away, there is the old house. She runs toward it.
She presses against the side of the house, in a darkened
corner, trying to look up into the window. Across the
highway, she sees her pursuer struggle over the little
wall, and in his clumsiness fall groveling on the ground.
In panic, she runs to the rear of the house and into the
shadows of a small back porch. Her first impulse is to cry
out for help, but she silences herself in favor of trying
to stay hidden. She gasps, trying to hold her breath.
Silence ... night sounds ... and the sounds of the man’s
funning footsteps slowing to a trot ... then a walk ... the
footsteps stop.

Barbara quickly glances about. There is a rear window. She
peers through it, but inside everything is dark. The
pursuing footsteps take up again. She presses back against
the door of the house, and her hand falls on the doorknob.
She looks down at it, grabs it with a turn, and the door
opens. She enters quickly, as quietly as possible, and
closes the door softly behind her, bolting it and feeling
in the darkness for a key. Her hand finds a skeleton key,
and she turns it, making a small rasp and click. She leans
against the door, listening, and can still hear the distant
footfalls.

Barbara finds that she is in the kitchen of the old house.
She gropes through a door and into a large living room ...
no sign of life. Her impulse is to cry for help, but again
she stops herself for fear of being heard by the man
outside. She darts back to the kitchen, rummages through
drawers in a kitchen cabinet, and finds the silverware.
She chooses a large steak knife and, grasping it tightly,
goes to listen at the door again. All is quiet. She goes
back into the living room.

Beyond it is an alcove that contains the front entrance to
the house. She rushes to the front door and makes sure it
is locked. Cautiously, she pushes back a corner of the
curtain to see outside. The view overlooks an expansive
lawn, large shadowy pine trees, and the service station
across the road.

There is no sign of the attacker. Suddenly, there is noise
from outside: the pounding and rattling of a door. Barbara
drops the curtain edge and stiffens. More sounds. She
hurries to a side window. Across the lawn, the man is
pounding at the door to the garage. She watches, her eyes
wide with fear. The man struggles with the door, then
looks about and picks up something and smashes at it. In
panic, Barbara pulls away from the window.
Across the room is a telephone. She rushes to it and picks
up the receiver ... dial tone ... she frantically dials the
operator ... some Buzzes and clicks ... then ...

TELEPHONE OPERATOR RECORDING
(V.O.)
I’m sorry ... our lines are
busy ... would you hold the line
please ... I’m sorry ... our lines
are ...
She quickly depresses the receiver buttons ... lets them up
and dials again ... long pause ... she can hear sounds from
the gas station ...

TELEPHONE OPERATOR (V.O.)
I’m sorry ... our lines ...

She depresses the buttons again ... dials 411 for
information ... another long pause ... then the rasp of a
busy signal. The noises from the service station have
stopped. She listens for a moment ... she shudders with
fear ... notices a telephone directory in a stand near the
phone. Frantically, her fingers search to pages for the
emergency numbers ... the police. She dials shakily, but
before she has dialed the last numbers the rapines of the
busy signal comes over the receiver. She depresses the
buttons again ... footsteps ... she puts the phone down and
rushes to another window. A figure is crossing the lawn,
coming toward the house. It is a different figure, a
different man. She runs to the door and peers out through
the curtains again. The man still walks toward the house.
A shadow darkens a strip of window at the left of the
door. Its abruptness startles her. She peels back a corner
of the curtain and sees the back of the first attacker not
ten feet away, facing the man who is approaching. The
attacker moves toward the new man. Barbara freezes against
the door, and glances down at her knife ... she looks back
out at the two men.

They join each other under the dark, hanging trees, and
stand looking back toward the cemetery. From inside the
house, Barbara squints, trying to see. Finally, the
attacker moves back across the road, in the direction of
the cemetery. The other man approaches the house, seeks
the shadows of a tree, and stops ... in an attitude of
stolid watching ... Barbara stares, but can see little.
She lunges toward the phone again ... dials the
operator ... the same recorded message. She barely stops
herself from slamming down the receiver.

Then suddenly a distant sound ... an approaching car. She
scampers to the window and looks out. The road seems
empty. But after a moment a faint light appears, bouncing
and rapidly approaching ... a car coming up the road.
Barbara reaches for the doorknob, edges the door open very
slightly. The light spills dimly over the area. There,
under the great tree in the lawn, is the silhouette of the
second man. Barbara shudders ... she is afraid to make her
break for the approaching car.

The figure appears to be sitting, quite still, it’s head
and shoulders slumped over ... it seems to be looking right
at the house. The car speeds by ... Barbara just stares at
the figure. She cannot run. She closes the door and backs
into the shadows of the house.

She turns to see all around her. The large dreary rooms
are very quiet, cast in shadow ... she spies a stairway ...
runs toward it still carrying the knife and starts up the
stairs. The camera is level with her eye, and picks up her
view of the stairs as she runs up ... panting and frantic
she climbs, her hand grazing the banister ... still at her
eye level, The camera starts to pick up the top of the
stairway ... the floor of the second landing ... A brief
glimpse of something on the floor there ... she continues
to climb ... the floor of the landing ... zoom in ...
toward camera, the hand of ... A corpse.
Barbara stops ... the corpse is almost skeletal with its
flesh ripped from it, and it lies at the end of a trail of
blood. Screaming in absolute horror, Barbara almost falls
down the stairs. She is gagging ... she breaks for the
door, unlocks it, and flings herself out into the night,
completely unmindful of consequences ... she is bathed in
light ... two headlights are screeching toward camera ...
the sounds of a vehicle stopping. Barbara covers her face
with her arms. Someone rushes toward her ...

MAN
Are you one of ‘em?

She stares, frozen. A man stands in front of her. He is
large and crude, in coveralls and tattered work shirt. He
looks very strong, and perhaps a little stupid. Behind him
is and old, battered pick-up truck, which he has driven
right up onto the lawn of the house. He holds a large
jack-handle in his hand, and stands there panting. Behind
him, the man at the tree still stands.
Barbara is still frozen ...

MAN
(The man shouts again)
Are you one of ‘em? I seen ‘em to
look like you ...

The man at the tree moves forward ... Barbara screams and
steps back ... the truck driver spins to face the other
man. The other man stops in his tracks. The truck driver
backs protectively toward the girl, while the other stands,
just watching. Finally, the truck driver seizes Barbara’s
wrist and pulls her into the house, slamming the door
behind them.

Barbara falls back against a wall. The truck driver locks
the door and throws the bolt. He is breathing hard. He
turns to look at the girl. She brings the knife up in a
defensive gesture ...

TRUCKDRIVER
(Soothingly, in a drawl,
almost as he would address a
scared rabbit)
All right ... It’s awright
now ...

She stares widely at him. He immediately concerns himself
with his surroundings. He moves into the next room to
check the windows. He tries a lamp, it lights, he turns it
off.

Barbara weakly lowers the knife and falls to a sitting
position in a chair. She watches the man intently ... he
calls to her from the other room ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
Don’t you mind the creep
outside ... I can handle him ...
There’s probably gonna be lots
more of ‘em ... soon’s they fin’
out about us ... I’m outta
gas ... them pumps over there is
locked ... is there food
here? ... . I’ll get us some
grub ... then we beat ‘em off an’
skedaddle ...

She just stares at him.

TRUCKDRIVER
It ain’t no good no way. Might’s
well have two tincans and a
string ... You live here?
She remains silent, looking toward the top of the stairs.
The man follows her stare and starts toward the
stairs ... . Halfway up he sees the corpse and stops ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Oh ... bejeses ...
(He stares for a moment, then
slowly backs down the
stairs.)

At the bottom of the stairs, he just looks at the girl
shivering with shock in her chair. Then he forces himself
back into action.

TRUCKDRIVER
We gotta bust outta here ... git
to where there’s some folks ...
somebody with guns or
somethin ... .
(He quickly moves toward the
kitchen.)
I’ll try to scare up some grub.

He enters the kitchen and starts to rummage. He flings open
the refrigerator and the cupboards. Finding a stack of
large paper grocery bags, he opens one and starts to fill
it with things from the refrigerator. He hurls the stuff
into the bag. He is interrupted by Barbara’s voice ...

BARBARA
(Weakly)
What’s happening?

The man looks up at her ...

BARBARA
(Repeating)
What’s happening?
(She shakes her head in
fright and bewilderment)

The truck driver looks at her. She stands like a frightened
child in the kitchen doorway. He is amazed at her
question. A shattering crash startles them. The man drops
the groceries and seizes his jack-handle. He runs to the
front door and looks out through the curtained window.
Another shattering sound. The first attacker has joined
the second man at the old pick-up truck, and with great
sticks the two are smashing out the headlights.

TRUCKDRIVER
Two of ‘em.
Once the lights are battered out, the two men outside start
to beat at the body of the truck. The truck driver spins
and lunges toward the girl.

TRUCKDRIVER
How many ... how many ...
She backs further away ... the truck driver lunges again,
this time in desperation to make her understand ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
How many ... come on, now ... . ah
know you’re scared ... but ah can
handle them two bohoppers ... Now
how many more is out there ...
that truck’s our only chance to
git outta here ... How many ...
how many ...

He grabs her shoulders and she struggles against him,
thrashing hysterical ...

BARBARA
I don’t know ... I don’t know ...
what’s happening? ... . I don’t
know what’s happening ... .

She breaks into hysterical sobbing. The truck driver spins
away from her and breaks for the door. He looks out the
window for a moment. The attackers still beat at the
truck, wildly trying to tear it apart. The truck driver
flings open the door and leaps off of the porch. The two
men look up ... for the first time we see the faces of the
attackers ... they are dead things ... the flesh on their
faces is rotting and oozing ... their eyes bulge from deep
sockets ... their hair is long, and their clothing rotten
and in tatters. They are ghoulish beings, staring up at
the truck driver ... he starts for them slowly, with
building vengeance. He moves steadily at first ... with
controlled power ... he speaks as he advances ... wielding
his jack-handle ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
Come ‘n git it ... come on ‘n git
some o’ this jack-handle ...

He concentrates on his attack ... moving stolidly toward
the two creatures ... he breaks almost into a run. But the
two, rather than backing off, move toward the man ... as
though drawn by some urge. The man pounds into them,
swinging and thrashing with arms and jack-handle. They are
buffeted by his blows ... they seem weak compared to
him ... but his powerful blows don’t really stop them. It
is like beating a rug. He flings them back and they advance
again. It is a violent, brutal struggle. But the big man
finally beats the two into the ground, and for a great
while continues to pound a their limp forms. He breaks
into almost sobbing with each of his blows. He beats at
them and beats at them as the girl watches in shock from
the porch ... he thrashes and beats until she starts to
scream again. Her screams pierce the night. The man
stops. Breathing heavily, he stands, enveloped in the
quiet of the night.

The girl stands in the doorway, the truck driver turns to
face her, he is out of breath. Suddenly, a noise behind the
girl, she spins ... and walking toward her from the
kitchen is another of the hideous creatures ... the truck
driver leaps toward the thing ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Lock that door!

Barbara slams the door and locks it, backing against it, as
another equally brutal struggle ensues in the living room.
The big man again beats the attacker down ... . but another
appears at the kitchen door. The truck driver leaps toward
it, and with powerful jack-handle blows drives it out
beyond the door so that he can fall against it, shutting
it. He bolts it and stands leaning against the frame
trying to breathe.

Long silence ... the truck driver just stares down at the
floor ...

TRUCKDRIVER
They know we’re in here, now ...
there ain’t no use disputin’ that.
Outside the house, the fourth ghoul stands staring at the
back door. Another slowly walks up behind it ... and
another. At the front of the house, three more stand near
the bodies of the first two.

Pull off and follow focus from the front yard of the house,
through the curtains at the front door, to the face of the
girl as she spins to face the camera. Her face twitches in
fright, and her eyes are wide with a non-blinking stare.
As she spins, her eyes fall on the floor, where the dead
humanoid lies. The thing is askew on its back, its right
arm extended toward the girl with fingers twisted as though
to grab.

(Cut to MCU. Camera is trucking in slowly.)
There is a slight movement in the thing’s hand. It
twitches ... the whole body twitches slightly. The bent,
broken neck has the being’s head twisted upward, in an
open-mouthed glassy stare ... Barbara steps toward the
thing. The fear in her face bears the beginnings of a sick
frown. The hand twitches again. The girl moves closer,
drawn toward it, staring down at it with overpowering
curiosity.

The thing is something dead, with the beginnings of decay
on its face and neck. Barbara moves closer. The thing
still twitches ...

She is staring right down into the thing’s eyes ... her
hands come up to her mouth ... the urge to be ill, to
scream, to run must all be fought...the glassy stare from
bulging eyes ... right back up at her ...

(Camera shoots back and forth at her face and the staring
eyes of the dead thing ... zoom in on the thing ... it
seems as though the body is going to stand again ... it’s
face holds as much life as it did when it walked.)
Suddenly, with a rustling sound the thing moves ... (Cut
back.) The big truck driver has a hold on the thing’s legs
and is dragging it across the floor.

TRUCKDRIVER
Shut your eyes, girl ... I’m
gittin’ this dead behopper outta
here ... .

He is sweating. His face shows anger and anguish as he
drags the body across the floor. Barbara just stands, her
hands still at her mouth, watching. The sounds of the
man’s breathing, and his struggle, fill the room. With
the body, he reaches the back door and lets the legs
fall ...

TRUCKDRIVER
You ... filthy ...
(He cuts himself short. Cut-in for close-up.)

The stark light on the big man’s face makes him shine in
his sweat. His eyes are alert, and afraid. He turns
quickly to see through the small window-panes in the door.
Outside, lurking in shadow from the huge trees, the three
beings watch and wait, their arms dangling and eyes
bulging, as they stare at the truck driver’s activities.
With a swift move, the big man unbolts the door, flings it
open, and bends toward the inert thing at his feet. The
ghoulish things begin to move toward him. With one great
heave, the dead form is flopped outside the door. It lies
across the threshold. The things advance silently ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
Filthy ... .

Another great effort shoves the body almost clear. From
inside the house, the big man’s efforts cannot be clearly
seen by the girl, because the doorframe is blocking her
view. She moves into the kitchen. The truck driver flops
the body down onto the edge of the porch. The three
figures are close upon him, are starting to reach out. The
big man shudders. He fumbles into the breast pocket of
this work shirt. The things advance. He produces a pack
of matches, manages to strike one ... and touches the
burning tip to the clothing of the dead thing, and with
almost a popping sound the clothing catches fire ... .

The things in the yard stop in their tracks ... the fire
blazes slowly. Shaking, the truck driver touches the match
to other aspects of the thing’s clothing. His fingers
burn, and he snaps them, throwing the match into the heaped
form. He is breathing hard. Standing, he kicks the
burning thing off the edge of the porch ... watches it
roll down three small steps onto the grass, where it lies
still, the flames licking around it. The three beings step
back slightly ... the big man clings to the banister around
the little porch ... his fists clench and his face is fiery
in the glow of the flames. His voice quivers ...

TRUCKDRIVER
I’ll git you.. ah’m gonna git you.
All of you ... . (His voice grows
stronger in his violence) All of
you ...

He stands defiantly on the little porch, the flaming corpse
separating from the things that wait. He spins
suddenly ... the girl stands inside the kitchen door. His
face is a fury of sweat and quivering anger. His eyes meet
the girl’s ... she steps slowly back into the room. The
big man, in great strides, re-enters the kitchen and slams
the door, bolting it again. His breathing, still loud, is
even more rapid than before. His eyes dart quickly about
the room in search of something.
He rushes to the cabinets and throws them open, begins
rummaging through them. Standard kitchen utensils and
supplies. He does not speak, just frantically ransacks the
room ...

TRUCKDRIVER
See if you can find the light
switch.

Barbara falls back against a wall, and her hand gropes to a
switch. The light from an overhead fixture comes on,
providing dim illumination. The big man continues to
clatter about frantically. The light coming on makes the
girl blink. She remains against the wall, her hand still
touching the switch. It is as though she dare not move.
She watches silently.

The man flings open drawers and spills contents onto the
shelving and onto the floor. His hands fall to the
silverware drawer, still open from when Barbara first
discovered it. He pulls it out until it stoops itself with
a crash. He roots through it, pulls out a large knife and,
sucking his breath in, stuffs it under his belt. Then he
reaches into the drawer again and produces another knife.
Taking Barbara by surprise, he strides toward her. He
shoves the knife at her, handle first, but she falls back
slightly. Her action stays his franticness ... breathing
heavily through his words, he speaks to her ...

TRUCKDRIVER
... now ... you hang on ... to
this ...

She hesitates, but she takes the knife. She seems weak,
almost apathetic, as though she is losing control of
herself. She stares at the weapon in her hand, then her
eyes come up to meet the man’s intense face.

TRUCKDRIVER
All right.

He pulls away from her and continues to rummage, but he
speaks periodically now, between great breaths, and between
the brief times when his interest is wrapped in something
he finds in his rummaging. His search is not without
control; it has a coordinated purpose; it is selective,
although frantic and desperate. He looks for nails and
strips of wood or planks that he might nail around doors
and windows. His actions are hurried, and intent after
these defensive ends. At first, his search has his full
attention. Gradually, as he moves about, and begins to come
up with several key items that he needs, his efforts pace
down into a more deliberate flow ... he starts putting up
boards and tables against the vulnerable parts of the old
house.

The mood relaxes in intensity, becomes calmer, more
analytical ... the barricading instills a feeling of
greater security. And the knowledge of some security
begins to overtake the girl, bringing her out of her shock
and passivity. The scene proceeds as follows ... the
girl looks at her knife, recedes against the wall. The
noise of the search is ever-present. The man mutters
occasionally, and spills his findings about the room. At
first, as new cabinets and drawers fail to turn up what he
is looking for, he grows impatient and more violent ...
spools of thread, buttons, manicure implements, shoe-shine
materials ... Another drawer ... immediately, as the
drawer is flung open with a clatter, the big man sees what
he needs ... he almost leaps into the drawer ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Tell me ... you ain’t the sweetest
thing ...

His big hand comes out of the drawer with an old pipetobacco tin,
and in one gesture he spills its contents onto
a shelf ... nails and screws and washers and tacks spill
out onto the wooden shelf. A few roll too far and clatter
onto the floor. His fingers scoop them up. He fumbles
through the little pile of things and selects the longest
nails. In the batch, and stuffs them into the breast
pocket of his work-shirt. Even as he stuffs the nails into
his pocket, he is already moving, his eyes seeking for his
next need ...

TRUCKDRIVER
See if there’s any wood around the
fireplace out there!
His hands explore the shelf surface. The girl does not
respond immediately. His impetus carries him toward
another shelf, but in turning he notices the girl, still
motionless.

TRUCKDRIVER
Look ... You ...

(Angry at first, he stops himself, then speaks still
frantically, but with less harshness)

TRUCKDRIVER (Cont’d.)
... You’re scared ... ah’m scared ... ah’m scared, too ...
jist like you ... now ... (he composes himself even more)
we ain’t gonna be worth a plugged nickle if we don’t do
something’ ... ah’m gonna board up these doors and
windows ... but you gotta pitch in ... We gotta help
ourselves, ‘cause there ain’t nobody around to help us ...
and we’re gonna be all right ... ok? ... now ... I want you
to scamper out there and see if there’s any wood in that
fireplace ...

He stops, still breathing hard. The girl just looks at
him. She starts to move, very slowly, away from the wall.

TRUCKDRIVER
Ok?

The girl is still for a long moment; then nods her head
weakly.

TRUCKDRIVER
Ok

The girl leaves the room and he continues his search. She
moves quickly into the living-room area. The darkness
stops her for and instant, slowing her pace. From the
kitchen, come the clattering sounds of the man’s search.
She looks ahead. The white curtains on the windows seem to
glow, and every shadow seems suspect. Barbara shudders.
(Shot of the foreboding room. Closer shot on her face.)
On a table is a bowl of large, rounded flowers ... a breeze
causes them to stir in sync with a sound from the kitchen.
The effect startles the girl; she dives for a table lamp,
clicks it on, and dull illumination fills the room. The
room is empty. She starts slowly toward the fireplace.
Near it, is a stack of logwood, and a few planks that might
be large enough to nail across the windows. Still
clutching her knife, she bends over the pile and gathers up
the planking. She stands with her awkward load, and the
foreboding room faces her again, stopping her. She bolts
and hurries toward the kitchen.

Bursting through the door, she finds the big man pounding
with his jack-handle at the hinges on a tall broom-closet
door. One final swipe and a great yank frees the wooden
door, and the man stands it against the wall next to the
broom-closet. In the recesses of the closet, the man spots
other useful items and pulls them out ... an ironing board,
three center boards from a dining table, and some old scrap
lumber.

He motions for Barbara to follow, as he grabs the closet
door and moves to the back door of the house, which he had
previously bolted against the beings outside. He slaps the
closet door up against the paned portion of the kitchen
door and finds that with this same piece he can cover the
kitchen window. He leans against the piece of wood and
gropes in his pocket for nails. The door starts to slip
slightly; it does not completely cover the adjoining
window, but it leaves slots of glass at the top and bottom:
however, it does cover the glass part of the entrance
door. Barbara drops her burden and moves swiftly, helping
the man by holding an end of the barrier in position. The
truck-driver accepts her help automatically, without
recognition, and gives the barricade a cursory inspection
as he determines where to sink the nails. Pulling several
nails from his pocket, he places them and drives them in
with his jack-handle. He drives two on his through the
door and molding until they grab, then moves to her side
and drives two more. When four are in, he whacks at them
with the jack-handle until they are completely sunken, then
begins to add more. Now he starts to talk. The first
decisive steps are taken. Quite a lot of relief comes with
it. Most of the house is still vulnerable, but the
measures taken instill confidence. While he talks, though,
he keeps working rapidly, his pace as intense as ever ...

TRUCKDRIVER
There, by god ... this ought to
hamp their crimper ... they ain’t
that strong ... there ... .

Two more nails, in position, driven to the molding. He
tests the barricading wood with two good yanks. It holds.

TRUCKDRIVER
They ain’t comin’ through that.

He drives the last two nails in all the way.

TRUCKDRIVER
Gotta figure out how much nails we got.

He sees the parts of the windows that remain uncovered.

TRUCKDRIVER
I’ll leave that for now. We’ll
fix the rest.

He turns quickly from the barricade and looks around the
room. No other doors or windows except the door that leads
to the living-room.

TRUCKDRIVER
Well ... this place is fairly
secure ...

He examines planks and table extensions.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now ... if we have to ...

The girl just stands and watches him.

TRUCKDRIVER
If we have to ... we just run in
here ... and no draggin’ now, or
fussin’ with your make-up, or I
leave you out there. We run in
here and board up this door.

The door between the kitchen and living-room has been open
all the time. The big man closes it, tests it, it shuts
tight. He opens it again. He quickly chooses several of
the lumber strips and stands them against the doorframe.
He gropes in his pocket and notices that his supply of
nails is dwindling. He checks the pile sprinkled from the
can. He empties the can completely and fingers the
contents for all of the longest nails, and tosses just
these back into the can. He hands the can to the girl ...

TRUCKDRIVER
You take these.

This time she reacts quickly and takes the little tobacco
tin from his big hand. As she does so, the man gathers as
much of the lumber as he can into his arms and starts out
of the room. Barbara follows. They are in the livingroom.

TRUCKDRIVER
It ain’t gonna be too long, they
be tryin’ to hammer their way in
here. they’re afraid now.
He drops his load of wood in the middle of the floor and
walks over to the largest front windows, talking as he
moves. His speech is rapid.

TRUCKDRIVER
They’re scared of fire too, i
found that out ...

His eye measures the size of the big windows. He looks all
around the room. Finally, his eyes fix on the large dining
table, and he moves quickly toward it, talking as he moves,
resuming his train of thought ...

TRUCKDRIVER
There must’ve been fifty ... a
hundred of ‘em down in Cambria
when the news broke ... .

Barbara watches, almost transfixed. At his mention of the
number of the things, her eyes reflect amazement, and
frightened curiosity. The man reaches the table, walks
around it studying its size, then hoists one end and turns
it onto its side. Bracing it against himself, he heaves on
one of the legs and tries to break it free. With a great
ripping sound, the table leg is torn off, and the man drops
it onto the rug. He continues talking, punctuation his
remarks with vengeance on the table as he rips all the legs
off.

TRUCKDRIVER
I seen this big gasoline truck,
you know ... down beekman’s ... beekman’s diner ... and I had
heard the radio ... I got a radio
in my truck ... .

He wrenches at the second table leg ... it cracks loudly
but does not come free. He moves to where his jack-handle
lies on the floor.

TRUCKDRIVER
... This cas’line truck come
screamin’ outta the diner lot onto
the road ... must be ten ...
fifteen of them things chasin’
it ... and it looks funny to me,
but I don’t see the things runnin’
behind it right away ...

He picks up the jack-handle and hammers at the table leg.
The second powerful swat frees the leg. He moves on to the
third.

TRUCKDRIVER
I just see this big truck ... and
it looks funny, you know, how slow
trucks’ll start ... and it’s
pullin’ out onto the road ... and
weavin’ ... then I see them
things ... and the truck’s movin’
so slow, they’re catchin’ up ...
and grabbin’ ... jumpin’ on ...

Another table leg falls loose to the rug.

TRUCKDRIVER
And that truck just cut right
‘cross the road ... through the
guard rail, you know. i’m
startin’ to throw on my brakes,
and the truck smashes into this
big sign and into the pumps in the
esso station down there ... I
hear this crash ... and that big
thing starts burnin’ ... and it’s
still movin’ ... right through
the pump stand and on into the
station ... and I’m stopped,
stock still ... and I see them
things ... and they all startin’
to back off ... Some of em
runnin’ ... or at least it looks
like they’re runnin’, but they
move kinda like they’re
crippled ... but they keep backin
off ... and it’s like ... it’s
like they gotta get away from the
fires ... And the guy drivin’ the
truck can’t get out nohow ... he
got the cab of the truck plowed
halfway into the wall of the
station ... that thing’s fryin’
him in there and he’s
screamin’ ... screamin’ like
hell ...

Barbara’s eyes deepen and her face wrinkles in anxiety.
The continuing nightmare grows more and more complex. The
man swats the last leg from the table, and the table-top
starts to drop. He regains control of it and struggles,
trying to move it into the next room. Barbara
automatically moves to his assistance and they walk
together, each burdened by the heavy table.

TRUCKDRIVER
I don’t know what’s gonna happen,
you know? I mean ... I don’t
know what the whole place gonna
explode ... or fly to pieces ...
or what’s gonna happen ... I
start drivin’ for the gas
station ... and the cat in the
truck is screamin’ and
screamin’ ... and after a while
he just stops ...

The man sets down his end of the table, and wipes beads of
sweat from his forehead. His breathing is still heavy from
his previous exertion. He wipes his hand on his shirt.
His eyes are wide and angry ... it almost seems as though
he might weep.

TRUCKDRIVER
... And there’s them things
standin’ back ... ‘cross the
road ... standin’ lookin’
like ... lookin like ... like
they just come back from the grave
or somethin’ ... and they’re over
by the diner ... and there’s cars
and busses in the diner lot, and
lots of windows is smashed. and
it’s for sure them things done the
people in the diner in ... and
more is outside, all over the
place, just bidin’ their time for
a chance to move in. so I start
my truck up, and I barrel it right
at some of them things ... I’m
steamin’ down right on ‘em ...
(His face grows more intense
with the memory) and I get a
good look at ‘em ... I see
them for the first time in my
lights ... and then ... I
just run right down on
‘em ... I just grind down,
down hard as I can ... and I
knock a couple of ‘em about
fifty feet, flailin’ into the
air ... and I just want to
smash them ... crush them
filthy things. And they’re
just standin’ there. They
ain’t runnin’, they ain’t
even tryin’ to get outta the
road. some of em is even
reachin’ out, as if they can
grab me. But they’re just
standin’ there, and the truck
is runnin’ them down ...
like they was bugs or
something’ ... they ...

Barbara is wide-eyed, staring in disgust, her hands still
clutched to the table-top. She says nothing. The man sees
her fear and stops himself.

TRUCKDRIVER ... I ... . I’m ...
He refocuses his attention on the table-top, and starts to
lift it again. Barbara is practically motionless. As he
tugs the table, her hands fall away and she slowly pulls
them against herself. He drags the table away from her,
and she walks numbly behind, having forgotten to assist.
She just watches the man’s face.

TRUCKDRIVER
... I’m just ... I got kids,
you know ... and ... I guess
they’ll do all right ... they can
take care of themselves ... but
they’re still only kids ... and
I’m bein’ away and all ... .
and ...

Perspiring heavily, he tugs the twists at the table-top,
trying to fit it through the doorframe and into the livingroom.

TRUCKDRIVER
I’m just gonna do what i can ...
and I’m gonna get back ... and
I’m gonna see my people ... and
things is gonna be all
right ... and ... I’m gonna get
back ... .

He has started to almost babble ... he sees the girl
intently watching him, and he stops. He composes himself
with some effort, and starts to speak a little more
slowly. His voice is almost a monotone, with enforced
calm, but he does, beneath his anger, seem as confident as
could be expected of anyone under the circumstances.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now, you and me is gonna be all
right, too. we can head them
things off. I mean ... you can
just ... just smash ‘em. All you
got to do is just keep your head
and don’t be too afraid. We move
faster than they can. and they’re
awful weak ... and if you don’t
run and just keep swingin’ ...
you can smash ‘em. We’re smarter
‘n they are. and we’re stronger
‘n they are. We’re gonna stop
‘em, okay?
The girl stares.

TRUCKDRIVER
All we got to do is just keep our
heads.
They look at each other for a moment, until the big man
turns and picks up the table again. As he starts away with
it, the girl speaks, quietly and weakly ...

BARBARA
Who are they?

The man stops in his tracks, still supporting the heavy
table-top and looks with amazement at Barbara’s anxious
face. Slowly it dawns on him that the girl has never
really been aware of the thing that has been happening.
She had not heard the radio announcements, the
bulletins ... she had been existing in a state of
uninformed shock.

TRUCKDRIVER
(Incredulously)
You ain’t heard nothin?

She stares blankly, silently, her eyes fastening in his.
Her reply is her silence.

TRUCKDRIVER
You mean you ain’t got no idea
about what’s goin’ on here?

Barbara starts to nod her answer ... she begins to
tremble ... .

BARBARA
I... I...

Her trembling increases, she begins to shake violently, and
suddenly she flings up her arms and flails them about,
sobbing wildly... she begins to walk in panic, wildly and
aimlessly, in circles about the room...

BARBARA
no ... no ... no ... no ...
I ... I can’t ... what’s
happening ... what’s happening to
us ... why ... what’s
happening ... tell me ...
tell ... me ... ..

The man grabs her, shakes her to bring her out of it, and
her sobbing jerks to a halt, but she remains staring ...
right through him, her eyes seemingly focused beyond him,
at some far distant point ... . Her speech, still nearly
hysterical, becomes a little more coherent ...

BARBARA
We were in the cemetery ...
me ... and Johnnie ... . my
brother, Johnnie ... we brought
flowers for ... this ...
man ... came after me ... and
Johnnie ... he ... he
fought ... and now ... he ...
he’s ...

TRUCKDRIVER
... All right ... all right!

He tightens his grip. She wrenches against him.

BARBARA
Get your hands off me!

She flings herself away from him, beating him across the
chest, taking him by surprise. But in her momentum, she
stumbles over an end table, barely regains her balance, and
stands facing the front door ... . poised as if to run out
into the night ...

BARBARA
We’ve go to help him ... got to
get Johnnie ... we’ve got to go
out and find him ... bring
him ...

She comes toward the man, pleading with tears, the
desperate tears of a frightened child ...

BARBARA
... Bring him here ... we’ll be
safe ... we can help him ...
we ...

The man steps toward her. She backs away, holding one hand
toward him defensively, and the other toward her mouth ...

BARBARA
No ... no ... please ... we’ve
got to ... we ...

He takes one deliberate stride for her.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now ... now you calm down ...
you’re safe here ... Now we can’t
take no chances ...

BARBARA
We’ve go to get Johnnie ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Now ... come on, now ... you
settle down ... you don’t know
what these things are ... It ain’t
like no sunday school out
there ... .

BARBARA
Please ... . pleeeese ... no ...
no ... no ... .

She is sobbing, violently ... her words become screams.
She is verging toward complete hysteria. The man struggles
to calm her, she wrenches from him but his grip remains, so
that her arms jerk her whole body in the act of wrenching
away. She stares at the man, their eyes meet in an instant
of calm ... but only an instant, before she screams ...
she kicks him again and again, as he struggles to pin her
arms at her sides and shove her against a wall. At the
same time, he does not want to hurt her. With brute force,
he shoves her backwards, propelling her into a soft
chair ... but she is up again, screaming and slapping at
his face. He is forced to grab her again, and practically
slam her into a corner. He brings up one powerful fist and
punches the girl ... but her head recoils and the blow is
misplaced, it does not put her out of commission. But it
shocks her into dumb, wounded silence. He hits her again,
squarely.. her eyes fall sorrowfully on his and she begins
to crumple ... she falls limp against him, as he supports
her weight, easing her into his arms. Holding her, he
looks dumbly about the room. His eyes fall on the sofa.
He does not carry, but almost walks her to the sofa,
permits her dead weight to fold onto it, and eases her head
onto a cushion.

Next to the couch is a cabinet-radio. The man stabs at a
button, clicking it on; while the radio warms up, he looks
around for the tin of nails, finds it where Barbara had
dropped it, takes nails and slides them into his pocket.
The radio hisses and crackles with static. He returns to
it and searches with the tuning dial. At first, just
static ... then it spins past what sounds like a voice,
and he adjusts carefully, trying to find the spot. The
tuner finds a metallic, monotone voice ...

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
..ergency radio network. Normal
broadcast facilities have been
temporarily discontinued. Stay
tuned to this wave length for
emergency information. Your law
enforcement agencies urge you to
remain in your homes. Keep all
doors and windows locked or
boarded shut. Use all food, water
and medical supplies sparingly.
Civil defense forces are
attempting to gain control of the
situation. Stay near your radio,
and remain tuned to this
frequency. Do not use your
automobile. Remain in your homes.
Keep all doors and windows locked.

A long pause. A crackle. The message repeats. It is
obviously a recording.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Our live broadcasters will convey
information as received from civil
defense headquarters. This is
your civil defense emergency radio
network. normal broadcast
facilities have been temporarily
discontinued. Stay tuned to this
wave length ...

The big man waves his hand in disgust at the repetition of
the radio and moves away as it continues it’s
announcement. He resumes his efforts with the heavy wooden
tabletop. This time he drags it to the living-room
window. He leans it against the wall and pulls back the
curtain to peer outside. There are now four figures
standing in the yard. The voice of the distant radio
recording continues. The figures stand very still, their
arms dangling, aspects of their silhouettes revealing
tattered clothing or shaggy hair. They are cold, dead
things. Something in the distance suddenly startles the
truck-driver.

From across the road, a figure is moving toward the house.
The man spins himself away from the door and rushes to the
fireplace. He reaches for his matches. In the little
stand near the couch, where Barbara lies unconscious, there
are old magazines. The man grabs them, rips pages loose,
and crumples them into the fireplace. He piles kindling
wood and larger logs, then touches the paper with a lighted
match and a small fire takes hold.

There is charcoal-light on the mantle. He sprays the
glowing fire and it whooshes into a larger blaze, almost
singeing the big man’s face as he works. The larger logs
begin to burn. He returns to the window. The recorded
message repeats itself continuously. The man hoists the
table-top to the window-sill, and braces it there while he
places a nail in position. He pounds with the jackhandle ...
driven by desperation ... another nail ... and
another. With the table secure, he checks it hastily and
leaps to another window, where he can peer out between its
nailed-up boards.

The new figure is just reaching the place where the others
stand silently. The man rushes to the fire, where the
biggest logs have now begun to blaze. He seizes the
discarded table legs and saturates them with charcoallight
then holds their largest ends into the fire until he
has two good flaming torches. Then, a torch in each hand,
he moves toward the door again. He nudges a big padded
armchair ahead of him to the door and, taking both torches
in one hand, pulls the curtain aside for another look at
the yard. The figures still stand silently.

With charcoal-light, he drenches the padded armchair and
touches it with a torch. It catches instantly, and flames
lick and climb, casting flickering light throughout the
house. The heat on the man is severe, but he has to fight
it. He lunges for the door, unbolting it, and flinging it
wide open. From the yard, as the door bangs open, the
flaming chair is visible. It throws eerie, irregular
illumination onto the lawn. The waiting figures step back
slightly.

The man shoves the chair through the doorway, it slides
across the front porch. It topples over the edge, and the
flaming bulk tumbles down the steps onto the front lawn.
In the rolling motion, flames lick and fly, and small
particles of the chair’s stuffing leap and glow in the
night wind. The bonfire rages in the tall grass. The
waiting figures back further away.
Inside the house, the front door bands shut, and the man
fastens the bolt. He hurries again to the window, puts
more nails into the table-top, fastening it securely, then
surveys his surroundings, seeking out possible
vulnerability.

(The camera moves with him seeing the task that lies
ahead.)

There is a side window in the living room, a window in the
dining room at the other side of the house, the front door
and the flanking glass panels. He turns, still inspecting,
and his eyes reflect surprise. The girl is sitting up on
the couch. Her demeanor is startling.
(As we cut to her)

Her face is bruised, and she sits in silence staring at the
floor. The radio drones on. The fire plays on her face,
and reflects in her eyes. The man takes off his jacket and
moves toward her. He fixes his jacket over her shoulders
and looks sympathetically into her face. She just stares
at the floor. The man feels dumb and helpless. Forlornly,
he moves to the pile of lumber, chooses a table-board, and
goes to the side window. The radio voice continues ...
The truck-driver boards up the two side windows, then moves
to the front door. He gets an ironing board, and places it
across the door horizontally. It extends over the flanking
glass panels leaving cracks at the top and bottom, but they
are to small for anything to get through. He drives nails
through the board into the molding and tests the barricade
for strength. Finding it sufficient, he leaves it and goes
on to the next. In the dining-room there are two closed
doors. He tries one, finds it locked, examines it and
finds no latch. It has been apparently locked with a
skeleton key. The other door is locked and leads into a
den, which contains several windows. The man is
disappointed at the added vulnerability. He thinks for a
moment, then leaves the room, shutting the door behind
him. It is clear that he has decided to board up the door
rather than try to secure the bay windows.

He checks his remaining lumber. The supply is dwindling,
but he selects the best piece for boarding the den door.
He is about to start hammering when an idea strikes him.
He opens the door again and enters the room. There are
chairs, a desk, a bureau ... he steps to the desk and
starts to rummage through the drawers. He pulls out paper,
a stack of pencils and pens, a compass, a hundred little
odds and ends. Another drawer ... A hundred more
things ... he leaves it open. The bureau contains mostly
clothing, he rips out the big drawers and hurls them
through the doorway and into the dining area. One
drawer ... two ... their contents spilling onto the
floor ... he looks back at the bureau ... a final idea
hits him. He shoves the great piece of furniture through
the door, walking it through the tight opening until it
clears the doorway. Then the desk, which warrants another
struggle, as the man attempts to secure all things of
possible value before he finally nails the door shut. In
the closet, there is a lot of old clothing; the man finds a
good warm coat and jacket and flings them over his
shoulder. High on the shelves are piles of old boxes,
suitcases, hatboxes, and old umbrella. He looks for an
instant, debating their worth, or the possible worth of
what they might contain. At his feet, he sees still more
clutter, boxes, umbrellas, dust, shoes and slippers. He
picks up a pair of ladies’ flats, and examines them,
thinking of the barefoot girl out on the couch, and tucks
them under his arm.

As he pulls away, something catches his eye ... within the
dark recess of the closet, something shiny, the sheen of a
finished piece of wood, a familiar shape, lying under a
pile of dirty clothing. He reaches eagerly, and his hand
finds what he had hoped, a rifle. He sets everything down
and rummages even more eagerly all over the floor of the
closet through shoe boxes, under things, items come flying
out of the closet. A shoebox contains old letters and
postcards. But, in a cigar box, clattering around with
pipe cleaners and cleaning fluid, there is a maintenance
manual and a box of ammunition. He flips open the box and
finds it half full. He shoves manual and cartridges into
his pocket, then decides to take the whole cigar box full
of material. He tucks it under his arm, gathers jackets
and shoes, and leaves the room.

In the dining room, he drops the load of supplies on the
bureau, and the sight of the girl in the living room stops
him short. She is sitting as before, not moving.

TRUCKDRIVER
We’re all right now ... this
place is good and solid. And I
found us a gun - a gun and some
bullets.

He looks at Barbara from across the room. She doesn’t seem
to take any note of his talking. He turns to his work, but
continues to speak ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
So, we got us a radio ... and
sooner or later somebody’ll come
and get us outta here.. we got
food in there ... (he starts to
board up the door to the den)
Oh ... and I got you some
shoes ... we’ll see in a minute
if they fit ... and some warm
clothes for you ...
He pounds at the nails. The pounding and the repetition of
the radio message are the only sounds. The last nail in,
the check for sturdiness, the big man turns toward the girl
again ... .

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
... ernment to stay in your
homes. Keep all doors and windows
locked ...

Other than her upright position, the girl shows no sign of
life. Her wide eyes just stare through the floor at some
point beyond.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
... preferably boarded shut ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Well, that’s us ... we’re doin’
all right ...

He can’t smile, and with the girl not looking at him his
attempt is half-hearted. He takes up the rifle, the cigarbox,
a coat and her shoes in one clumsy armful.
(As he leaves the frame, the camera lingers for an
instant. The alcove in the dining area is cluttered with
things from the den, the large pieces of furniture
obscuring the door that had been tried and found locked;
The camera lingers long enough to make this door
significant.)

The man kneels with his bundle in front of the girl; then
drops the armful of materials at her feet. He holds the
shoes that he found in the closet.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now, let’s see ... how big your
feet is ...

Looking up at her, he is unable to cope with her
catatonia. Her stillness makes him as gentle as he can be,
but he converses with her, still expecting her to reply and
react. She does not.

TRUCKDRIVER
Come on ...

He holds one of the shoes near her foot, waiting for her to
lift her leg and slip into the shoe. She is still.
Finally, the man takes one of her ankles and fumbles to put
the shoe on her foot. It does not go on easily, partly
because it is too small, but mostly because of her
limpness, but he gets it on, sets her foot down and takes
up the other one. He succeeds in getting the second shoe
on, and leans back on his haunches looking up at her. She
is staring at her feet.

TRUCKDRIVER
Well.. that’s er ... . that’s a
real cinderella story, ain’t it?

No response. The man reaches in reflex for his jacket
pocket, but he has given Barbara his jacket.

TRUCKDRIVER
Hey ... . you know you got my
cigarettes.

He tries to smile again. Still no reaction. He reaches
toward her and his hand enters the pocket of the jacket he
has draped over her shoulders. His action makes the girl
look directly at him, and her stare makes him
uncomfortable.

TRUCKDRIVER
You got my cigarettes.
He tries a gentler tone, as one would try to explain some
complex concept to a child. He pulls the cigarettes from
the pocket and settles back from her again. He fumbles for
a cigarette, puts it in his mouth and lights it, trying not
to look at the girl. Her gaze is still fixed on his face.

TRUCKDRIVER (CONT'D)
(Inhaling the first puff of
smoke and blowing it through
his nose)
Ok ... now ... maybe you ought
to lie down, you ...

TRUCKDRIVER (CONT'D)
(Fumbling with the cigarette,
a thought occurs to him and
he tries it)
You smoke?

He holds up the burning cigarette. Her stare drops from
him back to the floor. He takes another drag and blows the
smoke out quickly. Another idea ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Maybe you ... .
(He stops, he is getting
nowhere, he decides that his
time had better be spent in
securing the defenses of the
old house)
Okay.

His okay is more definite than his other talk, and he
scoops up the rifle and ammunition. He examines the gun,
dumps the shells onto the floor and methodically loads
them, one at a time.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now, I don’t know if you’re
hearin’ me or not ... or if
you’re out or somethin’ ... but
I’m goin’ upstairs now ...
okay? ... now, we’re safe down
here. Ain’t nothin’ getting’ in
here ... .. at least not
easy ... I mean, they might be
able to bust through that, but
it’s gonna be some sweat, and i
could hear ‘em, and I think I
could keep ‘em out. later on,
I’m gonna fix things good, so they
can’t get in no how ... but it’s
good for the time bein’ ...
You’re okay here ...

He continues to load the rifle as he speaks, his cigarette
dangling from his lip, causing him to squint from the smoke
that curls around his eyes.

TRUCKDRIVER
Now the upstairs is the only other
way somethin’ can get in here, so
I’m gonna go up ‘n fix that ...
He snaps the clip after the last shell, and is about to
stand when his glance falls on the girl again and he tries
to get through one last time ... .

TRUCKDRIVER
Okay? You gonna be all right?

She remains silent. The man stands, tucks the rifle under
his arm, grabs as much lumber as he can carry, and starts
for the stairs, the girl looks up at him, and he is aware
of it, but he keeps moving, and her stare follows.

TRUCKDRIVER
I’m gonna be right here. You’re
all right now. I’m right here,
upstairs.

He starts up the stairs. At the top of the landing he is
confronted once again with the body that lies there torn
and defaced. He sets down his supplies, and the sight of
the corpse is repulsive and he tries not to look at it.
The body is lying half across a blood-soaked throw-rug, and
a few feet away is another throw-rug, with oriental
patterns and a fringe sewn around its edge. The man grabs
the second rug and rips away one edge of the fringe. Once
the initial tear is made, the rest of the fringe peels away
easily. He frees it and, taking the rifle, ties on end of
the fringe around the barrel and the other around the
narrow part of the stock. This done, he slings the rifle
over his shoulder. Then he leans over the corpse and takes
hold of one end of the rug on which it lies, and begins
dragging it across the floor.

On the landing is a long corridor with several closed
doors. He deposits the ugly load at one of the doorways
and throws open the door. Inside is a bedroom. He tries
the other doors and finds two more bedrooms, one a child’s
room. He begins to remove furniture into the hallway; his
plan is to afterwards board up the doors. The noise of his
work fills the old house ... Downstairs, Barbara still
sits dazed on the couch. The fire flickers on her face,
and the burning wood pops loudly now and again. Objects in
the room are silhouetted and the atmosphere is stark.
(The camera moves slowly in to her face.)

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
... facilities have been
instructed to discontinue
programming stay tuned to
this ...

There is a sudden buzzing sound and crackling static. Then
a hodgepodge of newsroom sounds (as heard earlier by John
on the car radio): typewriters, ticker-tape machines, low
voices talking in the background. The sounds holds for a
long while. The girl does not seem to notice.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
... er ... ladies and
gentlemen ... what? ... yeah,
yeah ... . la ... what? yeah, I
got that one ... what? ...
another one? ... . put it through

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) (CONT'D)
(The voice sounds tired, but
the man is able to read his
reports unemotionally, with
the air of a professional
commentator who has been
covering a major event for
forty-eight hours and is no
longer impressed with the
latest developments)

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Up to the minute reports inform us
that the ... siege ... first
documented in the midwestern
section of the country is indeed
spread across the nation, and is
in fact world-wide. Medical and
scientific advisors have been
summoned to the white house, and
reporters on the scene in
Washington inform us that the
President is planning to make
public the results of that
conference in an address to the
nation over your civil defense
emergency network.

(A long pause by the announcer, the camera studies
Barbara’s face. She is inert.)

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
The ... . strange ... . beings,
that have appeared in most parts
of the nation, seem to have
certain predictable patterns of
behavior. in the few hours
following initial reports of
violence and death ... and
apparently deranged attacks on the
lives of people taken completely
off guard, it has been established
that the ... alien beings are
human in many physical and
behavioral aspects. Hypotheses as
to their origin and their aims
have to this point been so varied
and so diverse that we must only
report these factors to be
unknown. teams of scientist and
physicians presently have the
corpses of several of the ...

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
aggressors, and these corpses are
being studied for clues that might
negate or confirm existing
theories. the most ...
overwhelming fact ... is that
these ... beings are infiltrating
through urban and rural areas
throughout the nation, in forces
of varying number, and if they
have not as yet evidenced
themselves in your area,
please ... take every available
precaution. Attack may come at
any time, in any place, without
warning. Repeating the important
facts from our previous reports.
There is an ... aggressive
force ... army ... of
unexplained, unidentified ...
humanoid beings ... . that has
appeared ... . In world-wide
proportions ... . and these beings
are totally aggressive ...
irrational in their violence ... .
civil defense efforts are
underway ... and investigations
as to the origin and purpose of
the aggressors are being
conducted. All citizens are urged
to take utmost precautionary
measures to defend against
the ... ..insidious ... alien ...
force ... these beings are weak
in physical strength ... are
easily distinguishable from humans
by their deformed appearance ...
They are usually unarmed but
appear capable of handling
weapons ... They have appeared,
not led and organized army, not
with any apparent reason or
plan ... indeed, they seem to be
driven with the urges of
entranced ... or ... . or
obsessed minds. they appear
totally unthinking ... they can..
I repeat: they can be stopped by
immobilization: that is, by
blinding or dismembering. they
are, on the average, weaker in
strength than an adult human, but
their strength is in numbers, in
surprise, and in the sheer fact
that they are beyond our normal
realm of understanding. They
appear to be irrational, noncommunicative beings ... and they
are definitely to be considered
our enemies in what we must call a...

At this, Barbara bolts from the couch in wild, screaming
hysteria. She runs blindly toward the front door. The
truck-driver appears at the top of the stairs. Startled,
un-slinging the gun, he leaps down the stairs. The girl is
clawing at the barricade, trying to break out of the house,
she is sobbing in wild desperation. The man is almost upon
her, but she writhes out his reach, runs across the room
toward the maze of heaped-up furniture. Suddenly, from
within the maze, strong hands grab her. She screams in
terror. The truck-driver rushes toward her, and he is
startled by the sight of the other man, who is trying to
contain the hysterical girl. Behind him, an older man
stands holding a length of pipe at his side. They have
come through the door that the truck-driver had tried and
found locked. The man holding Barbara is dressed in
coveralls; he is probably a farmer, he is big and powerful looking.

TOM
(Still trying to calm the
girl)
It’s all right ... we’re from the
gas station ... we’re not ...

Barbara sags against him and sobs sporadically, in shock
and semi-relief. She is still nearly catatonic. The older
man rushes to the radio. The truck-driver just stares
dumbly as Tom calms the girl and leads her to a chair where
she sits very still, numb with expended emotion. The radio
voice continues with its information about the emergency.
The older man, Harry Tinsdale, crouches close to the radio,
still holding his length of pipe.

HARRY
Listen.

RADIO VOICE:
... periodic reports, as
information reaches this newsroom,
as well as survival information
and a listing of red cross rescue
points, where pick-ups will be
made as often as possible with the
equipment and staff presently
available ...
The big truck-driver stands staring at the two new men. He
exudes an air of resentment, as though the strangers have
intruded on his private little fortress.

TRUCKDRIVER
..Why ... Man, I ...

TOM
Looks like you got things pretty
well locked in.

TRUCKDRIVER
(Almost in an aggressive
tone)
Man, I could’ve used some help.
How long you guys been in there?

HARRY
That’s the cellar ... . It’s the
safest place.

TRUCKDRIVER
Man, you mean you didn’t hear the
racket we was makin’ up here?

HARRY
How were we supposed to know what
was going on up here? It could
have been those things, for all we
know.

TRUCKDRIVER
That girl was screamin’. Now, you
know what a girl sounds like.
Them things don’t make no noise.
Anybody’s got to know there’s
somebody up here could use some
help.

TOM
You can’t really tell what’s goin’
on from down there ...

HARRY
We thought we could hear screams,
but that might have meant ...
Those things were in the house
after her.

TRUCKDRIVER
And you wouldn’t come up ‘n help?

TOM
(A little ashamed) ... Well, I.. if ... there was
more of us ...

HARRY
That racket sounded like the place
was being ripped apart ... How
were we supposed ...

TRUCKDRIVER
You just said it was hard to hear
down there. Now you say it
sounded like the place was being
ripped apart. You better get your
story straight, mister ... ...

HARRY
All right! Now you tell me. I’m
not going to take those kind of
chances when we got a safe
place ... We luck into a safe
place, and you’re tellin’ us to
risk our lives just because
somebody needs help ... .

TRUCKDRIVER:
Somethin’ like that, yeah.

TOM
(Not knowing whose side to
take)
All right ... why don’t we
settle ... .

HARRY
(Ignoring everything but his
own line of thought)
Look, mister ... (he shouts this,
then calms his voice for the rest
of the line) all right ... we
came up, okay? We’re here. Now I
suggest we all go back downstairs
before any of these things find
out we’re in here.

TRUCKDRIVER
They can’t get in here.

TOM
You got the whole place boarded
up?

TRUCKDRIVER
(His attitude softer toward
Tom)
Most of it. all but upstairs ...
It’s weak in places, but it won’t
be hard to fix it up good ...

HARRY
You’re insane. The cellars the
safest place in the house.

TRUCKDRIVER
(Lashes out)
I’m tellin’ you they can’t get in
here!

HARRY
And I’m tellin you ... those
things turned over our car. We
were damned lucky to get away at
all. Now you tell me they can’t
get through a pile of wood.

TOM
His wife and kid’s downstairs.
The kid’s pretty badly tore up.
This statement takes the truck-driver completely by
surprise. His face softens, he exhales a deep breath.
Nobody says anything for a long moment. Finally, the
truck-driver swallows and makes his point again ...

TRUCKDRIVER:
Well, I ... I think we’re better
off up here.

TOM:
(Glancing about at the
barricades)
We could strengthen all these up,
Mr. Tinsdale.

TRUCKDRIVER:
Man, with all us workin’ we could
fix this up so nothin’ can get in
here ... and we got food ... the
fire ... and we got the radio.

HARRY:
We can bring all those things
downstairs with us. Man, you’re
crazy you got a million windows up
here ... All these windows,
you’re gonna make strong enough to
keep them out?

TRUCKDRIVER:
Them things ain’t got no strength,
man, I smashed three of ‘em pushed
another one out the door.

HARRY
I’m telling you they turned our
car onto it’s roof.

TRUCKDRIVER
Oh, hell, any good five men can do
that.

HARRY
That’s my point! ... only
there’s not going to be five ... .
there’s not going to be ten ...
twenty ... thirty ... a hundred.
Maybe ... you know? Once they
know we’re in here, the place’ll
be crawlin’ with ‘em.

TRUCKDRIVER
Well, if there’s that many, there
gonna get us wherever we’re at.

HARRY
Look, in the cellar, there’s only
one door, all right? Only one.
that’s the only place we have to
protect. And Tom and I fixed it
so it locks and boards from the
inside. but all these doors and
windows ... . Why, we’d never
know where they were going to hit
us next.

TRUCKDRIVER
You got a point, Mr. Tinsdale, but
down in the cellar there’s no
place to run ... I mean, if they
do get in, there’s no back exit.
We’d be done for.

This stops Harry for an instant.

TOM
We could get out of here if we had
to ... and we can see what’s
goin’ on outside ... Down there,
there ain’t any windows.. If a
rescue party does come we’d never
know it ... windows ...

HARRY
But the cellar is the strongest
place!

TRUCKDRIVER
The upstairs is just as much of a
trap as the cellar ... There’s
three rooms up there, and they
have to be boarded up like this
stuff down here ... Then if they
do get in the windows they can’t
get past the doors ... and
they’re weak, we can keep them
out. I got this gun now, and I
didn’t have it before, and I still
beat three of them off ... now,
we might have to try and get out
of here ourselves, ‘cause there
ain’t no guarantee that anybody is
gonna send help ... Suppose them
things come in here ... We can’t
bust outta the cellar, cause we
open that one door and they got
us ...

TOM
I don’t know. I think he’s right.
(he turns to the truck-driver) You
know how many’s out there?

TRUCKDRIVER
I figure maybe six, seven.

HARRY
Look, you two can do whatever you
like. I’m going back down to the
cellar, and you better decide,
because I’m gonna board up that
door and I’m not gonna be crazy
enough to unlock it again, no
matter what happens.

TOM
Wait a minute, Mr. Tinsdale, let’s
think about this for awhile ...

HARRY
Nope. I’ve made my decision. You
make yours. And you can stew in
your own juice.

TOM
(Flashing anger)
Now wait a minute dammit let’s
think about this awhile ... We
can make it into the cellar if we
have to ... and if we do decide
to stay down there, we will need
some things from up here ... Now
let’s at least consider this
awhile ...

TRUCKDRIVER
Man, if you box yourself into that
cellar, and if there is a lot of
them things that get into the
house, you had it. At least up
here you can outrun the things.
Tom is gone to one of the windows and is peering out
through an opening in the barricade.

TOM
Yeah, looks like six ... or
about ... eight ...
His hand goes to his temple, and he rubs nervously, his
demeanor a little shaken. The truck-driver joins him at
the window.

TRUCKDRIVER
That’s more than there was ...
there’s a bunch out the back,
too ... (he pivots to check the
kitchen) ... unless they’re the
same ones that was back here.

He bursts into the kitchen, as the fringed rifle sling
snaps and the weapon starts to fall. He twists to keep it
on his back, and tries to grab it, reaching behind. His
attention on the gun, he does not see the door as he moves
toward it. He regains control of the gun and looks up and
stops cold. Hands are reaching through the broken glass
behind the barricades ... graying, rotting hands,
scratching, reaching, trying to grab ... and through
aspects of the glass ... the inhuman faces behind the
hands. The barrier is being strained, no doubt about that,
but it is holding well enough.

The man smashes with the rifle butt against the ugly
extremities, pounding ... once, twice. One of the
grabbing hands is driven back with a shattering of the
already broken glass it was reaching through. The rifle
butt smashes one of the hands against the door molding
solidly ... but the hand, unfeeling of pain, continues to
claw after a hold. The man slides his finger to the
trigger, and turns the rifle, smashing the barrel through
another of the little broken glass areas, and two of the
gray hands seize the protruding metal. A dead face appears
behind the hands ... ugly ... expressionless. The man’s
face looks directly through the opening into the dead eyes
beyond, the man struggling desperately to control the
weapon and the zombie thing outside trying to pull it away
by the barrel. A brief instant when the muzzle points
directly at the hideous face ... BLAM ... the report
shatters the air, the lifeless thing is thrown back,
propelled by the blast, its head torn partially away, its
still outstretched hands falling back with the crumpling
body. The other hands continue to clutch and grab. Tom has
rushed into the kitchen, and Harry is standing cautiously a
few feet from the doorway, still in the dining area. A
distant voice, that of Harry’s wife, suddenly begins to cry
out from the cellar:

HELEN
Harry ... . Harry ... .
Harry ... . Are you all right?

HARRY
it’s all right, Helen ... we’re
all right ...

Tom immediately rushes to the door. The truck-driver is
pounding at a hand that is trying to work at the barricade
from the bottom. The blows seem ineffectual, as the hand,
oblivious except for the physical jouncing about from
impact, continues to grab. Tom leaps against the door and
grabs the rotting wrist with both his hands, and tries to
bend the wrist back in an effort to break it, but it seems
limp and almost pliable. Disgust sweeps over the young
man’s face. He tries to scrape the cold thing against the
edge of the broken glass, and the absence of blood is
immediately evident as the sharp edge rips into what looks
like rotting flesh.

Another hand grabs at Tom’s wrist and tries to pull it
through the glass. Tom yells, and the truck-driver tries
to swing the barrel of the gun toward the thing struggling
with Tom, but another hand clutches at him even as he is
trying to help the younger man. A hand is clawing and
ripping his shirt ... but he focuses his attention on
aiming the gun. Another loud blast, and the hands Tom was
fighting jerk back, and fall into darkness. Foot against
the wall, the big man forces himself away from the door out
of the grasp of the hand still clutching his shirt. The
shirt tears away, and the thing backs off, still with the
fragment in its hand. Badly shaken, Tom just stares,
through another opening in the door. The truck-driver
takes careful aim and pulls the trigger again; the blast
rips through the thing’s chest, leaving s gaping hole in
its back ... but it remains on its feet, backing slowly
away.

TOM
Oh ... Good God!

Panicked at the failure of the weapon, the big man levels
off again ... another loud report. This time the shell
rips through the things thigh, just below the pelvis. The
thing still backs away, but as it tries to put weight on
its right leg it falls to a heap. The two men just stare
in disbelief. The thing is still moving away, dragging
itself with its arms and pushing against the ground with
its remaining leg.

TOM
Mother Of God ... What are these
things?

The truck-driver wets his lips, takes a deep breath and
holds it, carefully sights down the barrel of the rifle
again. He pulls the trigger. The shell seems to blow open
the skull of the crawling form, and it falls backwards.

TRUCKDRIVER
Damn ... damn thing from
hell ...
(His voice trembles as he
lets out his held breath)

Outside, the thing that has fallen limply, without the use
of its eyes, moves its arms in groping, clutching motions,
seemingly still trying to drag itself away.

HELEN
(From the cellar)
Harry ... . Harry! ... .

After a moment of silence, the truck-driver turns from the
door.

TRUCKDRIVER
We gotta fix these boards.
He starts to move to gather supplies, when Harry speaks.

HARRY
You’re crazy ... those things are
gonna be at every door and window
in the place. We’ve got to get
into the cellar.

The big truck-driver turns to Harry with absolute fury in
his eyes. His voice is deeper in his rage, and more
commanding.

TRUCKDRIVER
Go ahead into your damn cellar!
Get outta here!

The shouting stops Harry for an instant, then his adamancy
returns. He has decided that he will go into the cellar
without the others if need be and is now prepared to gather
his supplies.

HARRY
I’m taking the girl with me.
He moves toward the refrigerator in the kitchen, but the
big man steps in front of him.

TRUCKDRIVER
You keep your hands off of her,
she’s stayin’ here with me.
Harry is stopped again for a moment. Then he moves toward
the refrigerator again.

TRUCKDRIVER (CONT'D)
And you don’t touch none of that
food.

TRUCKDRIVER (CONT'D)
(His grip is still on the
gun, and though he doesn’t
point it at Harry, we are
aware of the power it
implies)
Now if I stay up here I’m gonna be
fightin’ for what’s up here ...
And that food and that radio and
all this is what I’m fightin’
for. And you are stone dead
wrong ... you’re just wrong, you
understand ... Now, if you’re
makin’ it to the cellar get your
ass movin’ ... go down these
stairs ... . and get out of here,
man ... and ... and ... don’t
mess with me no more ... .

HARRY
(Turning toward Tom)
The man is crazy ... he’s
crazy ... We’ve got to have food
down there ... we have a
right ...

TRUCKDRIVER
This is your house?
(He knows it isn’t)

HARRY
We’ve go a right to..

TRUCKDRIVER
(Confronting Tom)
You goin’ down there with him?

TOM
... Well ...

TRUCKDRIVER
No beatin’ around the bush ...
you goin’ or ain’t you? This is
your last chance.

There is a long moment of silence. Tom then turns to the
older man ...

TOM
Harry ... . I think he’s right.

HARRY
You’re crazy.

TOM
I really think we’re better off up
here.

HARRY
You’re crazy. I got a kid down
there. He can’t take all the
racket, and those things reaching
through the glass. We’ll be lucky
if he lives as it is now.

TRUCKDRIVER
(More impersonal than ever
before)
Okay. Now you’re his father. If
you’re dumb enough to go die in
that trap, it’s your business.
But I ain’t dumb enough to go with
you. it’s just bad luck for the
kid that his old man’s so
dumb ... . Now get the hell down
the cellar ... you can be boss
down there ... and I’m boss up
here ... and you ain’t takin’
none of this food, and you ain’t
takin’ nothin’.

TOM
Harry ... we can get food to
you ... if you want to stay down
there ... and ...

HARRY
You bastards!

HELEN
(From the cellar)
Harry ... Harry!
Harry looks toward the cellar door, looks back at the two
men, then quickly moves toward the door.

HARRY
You know I won’t open the door
again. I mean it.

TOM
We can fix this up here. With
your help, we could ...

HARRY
Yeah ... . well I think you’re
both nuts ... with my help!

TRUCKDRIVER
(To Tom)
Let him go, man, his mind is made
up, now let him go.

Harry looks for a moment, then lunges for the cellar door,
opens it, and slams it behind him ... sounds of his
footsteps going down the steps ... .

TOM
(Rushes to the door)
Harry, we’d be better off up here!
The truck-driver ties the broken fringe back onto the
rifle, then begins to reload the gun, replacing the spent
shells.

TOM
(Shouting through the door)
Harry, if we stick together, man,
we can fix it up real good ...
There are places we can run to up
here ...

We hear sounds of Harry boarding up the door. The truckdriver straps the gun to his shoulder again, then turns and
moves toward the upstairs. In passing, his glance falls on
Barbara. He steps backward off the stairs and looks at
her. The radio has taken up again with the monotonous
recorded message.

TOM
Harry ... we’d be better off if
all three of us was workin’
together ...
(Sounds of Harry’s
barricading)

TOM
We’ll let you have food when you
need it ...
(he glances warily at the
truck-driver, half-expecting
reprisal for this)
... and if we knock those things
might be chasin’ us and you can
let us in ...

Barricading sounds stop. Footsteps can be heard as Harry
walks down the cellar steps. Tom listens awhile, then
retreats, disappointed and worried about the lack of
Harry’s efforts in the defensive measures that must lie
ahead.

The truck-driver is with Barbara, stooping beside her
chair; she stares into an unseeing void. The big man
softens at seeing her.

TRUCKDRIVER
Hey ... hey, honey.

He brushes her hair back from her eyes. Tears well up and
it almost seems as though she might acknowledge his
tenderness, but she does not. The man feels very
sorrowful, almost as he would feel for his child when it
was sick. He massages his forehead and eyes, tired from
fear and exertion of the past hours. He bends to cover
the girl with a coat that he had brought from the den, then
steps away and feeds the fire, and stirs it to keep the
blaze good and warm, the primary concern in this effort is
for the girl. Behind him, tom walks up, truck-driver
senses his presence ...

TRUCKDRIVER
He’s wrong, man.

Tom is silent.

TRUCKDRIVER
I ain’t boxin’ myself in down
there no how.
(he finishes with the fire
and rises to go upstairs, to
continue his work there)
We might be here several days ...
we’ll get it fixed up ... he’ll
come up ... He ain’t gonna stay
down there very long ... he’ll
wanta see what’s goin’ on ... or
maybe if we get a chance to get
out ... he’ll come up.
He turns and goes up the
stairs ...

The cellar, with its stark gray
walls and dusty clutter, seems
cold and damp. Cardboard cartons
tied with cord and a hanging grid
of pipe-work all look dirty in the
subdued light of bare light
bulbs. The cartons take up must
of the space; they vary in size
from grocery boxes with faded
brand names to large packing
crates that might have contained
furniture. The washing machine,
an old roller type, sits off in a
corner of the cellar near a
makeshift shower stall.

Lines for drying clothes are
strung over the pipe-work so low
that Harry has to duck under them
as he walks from the stairs to the
other side of the confining
quarters. There are stationary
tubs and an old metallic cabinet
against one of the walls. Harry’s
wife, Helen, is at the faucet over
the tubs, wetting a cloth with
cold water. She looks up as Harry
enters, but is more interested in
what she is doing at the moment.
She wrings out the cloth and takes
it to where a young boy, their
son, lies motionlessly atop a
homemade worktable. On a pegboard above the table are hanging
tools and cables, and built into
the table itself are drawers that
probably contain smaller tools,
screws and bolts, washers, etc.
The woman moves a little stiffly
in the coolness of the cellar.
She is wearing a dress and
sweater, while a warmer coat is
spread on the table under the boy,
its sides flopped up and over him,
covering his legs and chest. The
woman bends over her son and wipes
his head with the cool cloth.
Harry quietly walks up behind her. She concentrates on
caring for the boy and pulls the coat more securely around
him.

HELEN
(Not looking up)
He has a bad fever.

HARRY
There’s two more people upstairs.

HELEN
(Still primarily concerned
with the boy’s comfort)
Two?

HARRY
Yeah ...
(a long pause, then half defensively)
I wasn’t about to take any
unnecessary chances.

Helen is silent.

HARRY
How did we know what was going on
up there?

Harry nervously reaches to his breast pocket for a
cigarette. He produces an empty pack and, seeing that it
is empty, crumples it in his hand and pitches it to the
floor. He steps over to the worktable where there is
another pack, snatches it up, and it too is empty. With
the same crumpling action, he discards this pack, violently
this time, the action spinning him into a position facing
his wife and boy. She continues to quietly swab the boy’s
forehead. Harry stares at them for a moment.

HARRY
Does he seem to be all right?

Helen is silent. The boy is motionless. He is sweating to
the point where beads of sweat are formed all over his
face. Harry waits and, seeing no answer forthcoming,
changes the subject.

HARRY
They’re all staying upstairs ... .
Idiots! We should stick
together ... it’s safest down
here ... ..

He goes to his wife’s purse and rummages through it’s
contents. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, rips the pack
open, and fumbles for a cigarette. He lights it and drags
in the first puff deeply. It makes him cough slightly.

HARRY
They don’t stand a chance up
there ... . they can’t hold those
things off forever ... There’s
too many ways they can get into
the house up there ...

Helen remains silent. On the floor, next to the workbench,
is a small transistor radio. Harry’s glance falls on it
and he stabs at it, scoops it up and clicks it on.

HARRY
They had a radio on upstairs ...
must’ve been civil defense or ...
I think it’s not just us, this
thing is happening all over.

The radio picks up nothing but static. Harry plays with the
tuning dial, listening anxiously, but across the receiving
band the transistor Just hisses. Harry holds the radio up
and turns it into various positions, trying it for
reception, spinning the tuner as he goes. Still nothing
but hiss. He walks around the room with still no results.

HARRY
This damned thing ...
Still just static.

Helen stops wiping the boy’s forehead and neatly folds the
cloth, and drapes it over her son’s brow. She gently
places her hand on the boy’s chest and looks over toward
her husband. He moves impatiently around the cellar, his
cigarette dangling from his lip, waving the little radio
around in the air. The radio just emits static at varying
levels.

HELEN
Harry ...

He continues his fidgeting with the radio. He goes near
the walls and stairs, holding it high and still spinning
the dial.

HELEN
Harry ... that thing can’t pick
up anything in this stinking
dungeon!

Her rising tone of voice stops him; he turns and looks at
her. About to cry, she brings her hands to her face. She
bites her lip, and just stares at the floor. Looking at
her, Harry lets his anger take hold of him, but he cannot
think of words. His face twitches, his emotion searching
for some vehicle or expression, until he pivots violently
and flings the radio across the room.

HARRY
(Shouting)
I hate you ... right? I hate the
kid? I wanna see you die here,
right? In this stinking place. my
god, Helen, do you realize what’s
happening? Those things are all
over the place ... they’ll kill
us all ... I enjoy watching my kid
suffer like this? I enjoy seeing
all this happen?

Helen’s head jerks toward him. She looks at him with what
is almost vengeance.

HELEN
He needs help ... he needs a
doctor ... he’s ... he’s ...
gonna maybe die here ... We have
to get out of here, Harry. we
have to.

HARRY
Oh, yeah ... let’s just walk
out. We can pack up right now and
get ready to go, and i’ll just say
to those things, `Excuse me.. my
wife and kid are uncomfortable
here ... we’re going into town.’
For god’s sake ... there’s maybe
twenty of those things out there.
and there’s more every
minute ... .

HELEN
There’s people upstairs. We
should stick together you said.
Are we fighting with them?
Upstairs, downstairs ... what’s
the difference?
Maybe they can help us. Let’s get
out of here ... . let’s go
upstairs ... let’s do
something ... . let’s get out of
here ...

A pounding sound interrupts her. They listen. The sound
is coming from the door, at the top of the stairs.

TOM
HARRY!
(From outside the door)

More pounding. Harry just stares up at the door, and does
not answer the call. Tears well in Helen’s eyes. More
pounding. Helen looks at Harry. When he does not respond,
she gets up and goes for the stairs.

HELEN
Yes ... yes, Tom!
Harry, running after her, grabs her shoulders from behind
and stops her.

HELEN
Harry ... Harry ... it’s Tom
Ryan.

TOM
(Through the door)
Harry ... we got food, and some
medicine and things from up
here ...

Harry stares up at the door speechlessly.

TOM
There’s gonna be a thing on the
radio ... in ten minutes,
Harry ... a civil defense
thing ... . to tell us what to do.

HELEN
(Looking up at the door,
shouts)
WE’RE COMING UP! WE’LL BE UP IN A
MINUTE!

HARRY
You’re out of your mind, Helen.
All it takes is a minute ...
those things get in up there and
it’s too late to change your
mind ... Don’t you see that?
Can’t you see that we’re safe as
long as we keep that door sealed
up?

HELEN
I don’t give a damn! I don’t
care, Harry ... I don’t care
anymore... I want to get out of
here ... go upstairs ... see if
someone will help us ... maybe
Karen will be okay ...

Her shouting stops and she takes control of herself. She
steps toward Harry and speaks in a calmer tone, almost
pleading.

HELEN
Harry ... please ... for just a
minute ... . we’ll go up and see
what’s up there ... We’ll hear
the radio, and maybe we can figure
some way to get out of here ...
maybe with all of us we can make
it, Harry.

Harry, his adamancy weakening somewhat, takes a cigarette
form his mouth, exhaling the last puff, and drops it to the
floor. He rubs it out with his foot. The smoke comes in
a long stream through his pursed lips.
Startlingly, Tom’s voice penetrates again.

TOM
Harry! ... . Hey, Harry! ... Ben
found a television upstairs! Come
on up ... we’ll see the civil
defense broadcast on tv ...

HELEN
(Soothingly, to Harry, her
tone in attempt to relieve
the onus Harry must feel in going
against his original decision)
Come on ... let’s go up ...
there’ll be something on tv that
tells us what to do. you can tell
them I wanted to come up ... .

HARRY
(Acquiescing, but with stolid
misgivings, his eyes fasten
on her; he pronounces his
words with what is almost
menace)
All right ... this is your
decision ... we’ll go up ... but
don’t blame me if we all get
killed ...

Her eyes fall away from his, and she leads as they go up
the stairs. The cellar door swings open. Helen and Harry
step into the hallway. Faltering, they peer through the
entranceway into the living-room. Harry, standing behind
his wife, is hostile. Partially due to anger with himself
because he has reneged on his decision about the cellar.
Helen, too, is over-wrought, due to the emotional effect of
the recent argument and to the fact that she is 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.

TOM
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.

HELEN
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.

TOM
(To Helen)
I think her brother was killed out
there.

BEN
(Yelling somewhat peeved,
from upstairs)
Tom ... hey, Tom! Are you gonna
give me a hand with this thing?

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.

HELEN
Her brother was killed ...

HARRY
This place is ridiculous. there’s
a million weak 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)

HELEN
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.

HARRY
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 do 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 cord
is close enough to be plugged in. Ben kneels behind the set
to plug in the cord.

HARRY
Wake that girl up. if there’s
going to be a thing on the tube,
she might as well know where she
stands. i don’t wand anybody’s
life on my hands.

HELEN
Harry! ... stop acting like a
child!

BEN
(On his feet, finished with
plugging in the set)
I don’t want to hear anymore from
you, mister. if you stay up here,
you’ll 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 ... now
we’re just going to let her sleep
it off. and nobody’s going to
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 a baited few seconds of dead silence as they all
wait to see if the set will actually warm up. All eyes are
on the tube. A hiss begins, increases in volume, Ben
cranks the volume all the way. A glowing band appears and
spreads, filling the screen.

HELEN
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 races the tuning
dial through the clicks of the various stations.

HARRY
Play with the rabbit-ears ... we
should be able to get something.

Ben 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.)

TV COMMENTATOR
... assign little credibility to
the theory that this onslaught is
a product of mass hysteria.
Authorities advise utmost caution
until the menace can be brought
under absolute control. Eyewitness
accounts have been investigated
and documented.

TV COMMENTATOR
Corpses of vanquished aggressors
are presently being examined by
medical pathologists, but autopsy
efforts have been hampered by the
mutilated condition of these
corpses. Security 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.)

TV COMMENTATOR
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 and effective
weapon. these beings are highly
flammable. Escape groups should
strike out for the nearest urban
community. Manned defense outpost
have been established on major
arteries leading into all
communities.

These outposts are equipped to
defend refugees and to offer
medical and surgical
assistance. Police and vigilante
groups are in the process of
combing remote areas in search and
destroy missions against all
aggressors. These patrols are
attempting to evacuate isolated
families.

TV COMMENTATOR
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
irrational 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 vigilante patrol had
vanquished several of the
aggressors. we bring you now the
results of that interview.

(Fade and segue to video-tape 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 smoke, some talk in groups. The area is illumined by a
large bonfire. Sheriff McClelland is the focal figure,
MCU, 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 reporter’s questions. We cut or zoom
closer. McClelland is pacing around, not straying too far,
because a lavaliere microphone is hanging on a cord around
his neck. The crackle of the bonfire, the shouts and the
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.

MCCLELLAND
(Taking up with a previouslyasked question) ... yeah ... well,
this is rough
country for an evening hike ...
(he smiles)
... but things ain’t going too
badly. the men are taking it
pretty well. we killed nineteen
of ‘em today, right around this
general area. these last three we
found trying to claw their way
into an abandoned mine shed ...
nobody in there.. but these things
just pounding and clawing, trying
to bust their way in ...

MCCLELLAND
it’s funny in a way ... must’ve
thought there was people in
there ... we heard the racket and
came and blasted them down ...

REPORTER
What’s your opinion, then? can we
defeat these things?

MCCLELLAND
There ain’t no problem.. only
problem is whether we can get to
‘em before they kill off all these
people. but me and my men can
handle ‘em okay ... we ain’t lost
nobody, or suffered any
casualties. all you gotta do is
shoot for the eyes. you can tell
anybody out there ... all you
gotta do is draw a sharp bead and
shoot for the eyes ... or beat
‘em down ‘n lop their heads
off ... .

REPORTER
Then I’d have a decent chance ...
even if I was surrounded by two or
three of them?

MCCLELLAND
If you had yourself a club ... or
a good torch.. you could hold ‘em
off or burn ‘em to death. they
catch fire like nothin’ ... go up
like wax paper ... but the best
thing is to shoot for the
eyes ... don’t wait for us to
rescue you ... ’cause if they get
you too far outnumbered you’ve had
it ... We’re doin’ our best.. but
we only got so many men and a
whole lot of open country to
comb ... .

REPORTER
But you think you can bring things
under control?

MCCLELLAND
We got things in our favor now.
It’s only a question of time. We
ain’t for certain how many there
are of them things ... . but we
know that when we find ‘em we’re
able to kill ‘em. so it’s a matter
of time ... they’re weak ... but
there’s pretty many of ‘em ...
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 alone you got to set stock
still and wait for help ... . and
we’ll try like hell to get there
before they do ... .

(Scene fades, segues back to live announcer)

MCCLELLAND
(Emphasizing his point, even
as scene fades out)
tell ‘em to shoot for the
eyes ... that’ll stop these
bojobbers!

COMMENTATOR
You have heard Sheriff Conan W.
McClelland, 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 circ ...

(Ben reaches over and clicks off the television)

TOM
Why’d you click it off for?

BEN
The man said they only come on
every hour ... . we heard all we
need to know. We gotta get out of
here.

HELEN
he said the rescue stations have
doctors and medical supplies ...
If we could get there, they could
help Karen.

HARRY
(Scoffing)
How’re we gonna bust outta here?
we got a sick kid, two women ...
one of ‘em outta her head and
three men. And there’s a million
of them things outside.

TOM
Willard should have a checkpoint
there ... about seventeen miles
from here.

BEN
(Excited)
You from here ... you know this
area?

TOM
Yeah ... I was workin’ in the
cemetery across the road ... I’m
the caretaker ... two of them
things attacked me and i
hightailed it over here ... found
everybody wiped out ... not too
long after, these other people
fought their way in here ... I was
scared but I opened the basement
door and 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
is very weak.)

BARBARA
You work in the cemetery? ... My
brother is over there.

HELEN
You poor thing ... (Rushes to
Barbara, comforting) My boy is
hurt too. we have to get to a
rescue station ... the television
told us ... we have to try and
escape.

HARRY
Well, I think we ought to stick
right here ... and wait for a
rescue party. He said if you’re
few against many you don’t have a
chance ... We can’t tramp
seventeen miles through those
things ...

BEN
We ain’t got to tramp. My truck’s
right outside the door.

This stops Harry. There is a moment of silence.

BEN
... But i’m just about out of
gas ... There’s a pump near the
shed outside, but it’s locked.

TOM
(Becoming more enthused,
seeing possibilities)
The key ought to be around
somewhere ... . there’s a big keyring in the basement ... .

HARRY
(Jumps up)
I’m gonna go look ... the keys
are labeled
(He bolts for the cellar)

BEN
Is there a fruit-cellar?

HARRY
Yeah ... why?

BEN
We’re gonna need lots of jars ...
We can make molotov cocktails ...
scare those things back ... then
fight our way to the pump and gas
up the truck.

TOM
We’re gonna need kerosene.
There’s a jug of that in the
basement too.

HELEN
Barbara and i can help. We can
rip up sheets and things.

HARRY
(Clomps up from the cellar)
Here’s the key-ring. The pump key
is marked with a piece of tape.

BEN
Good ... that settles that
question ... but we should take a
crowbar anyway ... in case the
key doesn’t work. The crowbar can
double as a weapon for whoever
goes with me. But I don’t want to
get all the way out there and find
out the pump won’t open ... .

TOM
I’ll go ... 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 ... . bBarbara and
Helen can do that ...

BEN
Harry, you’re gonna have to guard
the upstairs. Once we inboard the
door, those things can get in here
easy. But me and tom have to get
in, too, after we get back here
with the truck. You’ve got to
guard the door, and unlock it for
us. Then we’ll board it up as fast
as we can, ‘cause those things are
gonna come fast on our heels ...
If we don’t get back, well then
you’ll be able to see from
upstairs, and you can barricade
the door again and go to the
basement ... You can sit down
there and wait for a rescue party.

HARRY
I want the gun, then. it’s the
best thing for me to use. You’re
not going to have time to stop and
aim.

BEN
(Adamantly)
I’m keeping this gun ... nobody
else lays a hand on it ... I found
it and it’s mine.

HARRY
You don’t care what happens to
us ... . How do we know you and
Tom won’t just take the truck and
cut out?

BEN
(Glowering, with controlled
anger)

That’s the chance you have to
take. If we cut out, you’ll have
your goddamn basement. Like
you’ve been crying about all
along.

HELEN
We’re going to die here ... if we
don’t all work together.

BARBARA
My brother’s out there ... maybe
we can get him and bring him
back. He’s just wounded ...
he’ll be okay ...

HELEN
(Understanding)
That’s okay, honey ... . we’ll be
all right ... maybe your brother
will be, too ...

BEN
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 new scene, completion of escape
preparations. Tom is pouring kerosene into fruit jars,
Helen is dipping twisted rag fuses in 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 holes which Tom has cut in the jar lids.
Between them is a crude stretcher, made of broomsticks and
torn sheets, this presumable 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 may work and still keep up with
news that my affect their situation.

BARBARA
I don’t know what to think about
my brother ... We have to get out
of here ... maybe we’ll find him
in Willard ... maybe he was able
to crawl to the car ... and get
away ... .

HELEN
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 to a doctor ...

HARRY
(Coming over, checking the
stretcher, making sure
the makeshift straps will hold)
Broomsticks and belt-buckles ...
and old sheets, it seems to hold
okay ... I always hated the boy
scouts ...

TOM
It’ll be okay ... is there
anything open upstairs?

HARRY
Some windows in the rooms. ben is
unfastening the doors now.

TOM
We’ll throw the cocktails from
upstairs ... just splash the
whole area with them ... That
should keep most of them away ...
while we make a break for the
truck.

HELEN
We’re ready ... here comes Ben
now ...

(Hears him coming down the
stairs)

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.

BEN
Things are ready up there. Now me
and tom will un-board the front
door ... Harry, you take the two
women upstairs. Carry the molotov
cocktails with you ... Soon as
the door’s unbarred, we can throw
those things all over the
place ... Make sure they catch
fire good ... then the women bust
down here and get in the cellar.
don’t forget the stretcher ...
When we hear your footsteps on the
stairs, me and tom’ll be gone.
It’ll be up to you, Harry ...
you’ve gotta watch this door ...
Got yourself a good length of
pipe?

HARRY
I have a pitchfork.

BEN
Good ... okay.

Tom and Ben go over to the door. The others gather fruit jars, etc.,
and sneak quietly to the un-boarded room
upstairs. Tom and Ben are left alone. Tom is soaking a
table-leg in kerosene, ready to light it 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 carefully, both men working on each
separate piece of lumber, they undo the barricade. Each
nail-creak 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, the first fiery blaze
light in the yard. More follow, some aimed for the
creatures themselves. One of two catch fire.. the others
start to back away ... the entire field is lit up ...
bombs shower from upstairs.

HARRY
(Shouting, from upstairs,
slamming the door to the
room he was in)
That’s all, Ben ... run for it!

His voice echoes, as Tom and Ben burst into the yard. They
are armed with torches, and with the gun. They leap into
the truck. Tom plunges a torch into the chest of an
attacker, who immediately catches fire and goes down n a
blaze, clutching the torch ...

The truck starts up, and careens, in a u-turn for the old
shed. Attackers fall away as it starts out. Ben aims,
fires several shots, most miss as 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 gun,
the gun fires, blowing the lock to pieces ... . Gas spurts
all over the place ... creatures advance ... gas still
spurting, Tom crams the nozzle into the mouth of the gas
tank in the back of the truck. Ben crouches and level off
with his weapon ... an approaching attacker goes down ...
but more are coming on ... Tom’s torch has inadvertently
set fire to the doused 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 avail ...
the flaming truck speeds away, driven by the panicked
Tom ... several of the things are upon Ben ... he
thrashes and pounds them with torch and gun ... ignoring
Tom, he has to try and fight his way back to the
house ...

From inside the house, the panicked and cowardly Harry, has
seen only pieces of the action. He has been darting back
and forth from door to window, 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 ghouls. The truck continues
unmanned over the far rise ... and explodes violently..
the noise and flame shattering the night ... Several
ghouls are at the front door, trying to beat their way into
the house. From inside, Harry is in complete terror. He
cannot hold out ... all is lost ... he panics and bolts
for the cellar ...

But Ben has slugged his way through the attackers on the
porch ... he is pounding for admission at the front door.
He turns, and with a powerful lunge, 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 through in time to catch Harry at
the cellar door ... but there is no time. Ben frantically
turns to re-boarding 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 corners him,
clenching his lapels, against the wall ... Ben’s words
spit out, each work punctuated by an additional slam of
Harry against the wall ...

BEN
You ... rotten ... next..
time ... you try something ...
like that.. I’ll kill you ...
Ben slams him one final time, and he slides down the wall,
crumples on the floor. His face is swollen, he is streaming
blood. Ben is already at the cellar door ...

BEN
(Pounding)
Come on up! it’s us ... it's all
over ... Tom is 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 icepack against
his eye. His good eye follows Ben, who is
pacing about the room, when Ben’s pacing takes him to the
kitchen, or to some area out of Harry’s sight, the good eye
nervously relaxes. Ben’s movements make virtually the only
sound, he is checking the defenses, by force of old habit
rather than hope. The rifle is slung on his back. For a
long time, we well 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 ...

BEN
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 ghouls, 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 in various parts of
the lawn. But Ben’s eyes are fastened on a more grisly
scene at the edge of the lawn, in the moonlight, several
ghouls are devouring what was once Tom ... . They rip and
tear into aspects of his body ... .. ghoulish teeth ...
biting into Tom’s arms and hands ... Ben stares ...
fascinated ... and repulsed ...

With a convulsive movement his fingers release the curtain;
he turns, shaken, and faces the others ... beads of
perspiration dripping from his forehead.

BEN
Don’t ... don’t anyone of you
look out there... You won’t like
what you see ...

Harry’s good eye fastens on Ben, watches him, satisfies and
contemptuous to see the big man weaken. Ben moves for the
television, clicks it on. Barbara’s scream pierces the
room. Ben leaps back from the television ... . She is on
her feet, screaming, uncontrollably.

BARBARA
We’ll never get out of here ...
none of us! ... we’ll never get
out of her alive! Johneee!
Johneee! ... oh! ... oh! ...
god ... none of us ... none of
us ... help ... oh god ...
god!

Before anyone can move to her, she chokes up as suddenly as
she began, and slumps, sobbing violently, to the couch.
Her face buried in her hands. Helen tries to soothe her,
but great sobs come wracking 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 the 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 butt
first to the floor and leans across his legs. Ben threads
his arm through the fringed sling, and maintains his grip
on the fore-piece. Harry watches.

HELEN
(Getting up, announces)
I’m going to the cellar to take
care of Karen.
(She bends over, places her
hand on Barbara)
Come on honey ... come and talk
to me ... it’ll 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.

HARRY
(Whispering, cautiously and
quickly to Helen)
I’ve got to 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 its
swollen, blackened condition and the desperation n 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 face to Harry’s and whispers quickly ... .

HELEN
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
workbench table.

HELEN
Karen ...

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 is DEAD. She begins
to rise slowly, terrifyingly, her features grotesque ...
the coat that was her blanket begins to fall away ... her
eyes stare through Helen ... . And beyond her ... slowly,
agonizingly, she 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 have gotten into the den ... and are hammering at the
barricaded door ... the walls are starting to come
apart ...

Ben is on his feet, trying to reinforce the barricades;
with hammer and crowbar, he works furiously ...

BEN
Harry! Harry! ... . give me a
hand 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, panicked, the
things are breaking into the house...

BEN
What are you up to man? We’ve got
to keep those things out!

HARRY
(Backing away)
Now we’ll see who’s going to shoot
who ... I’m going to the
cellar ... and you can rot up
here ... you crazy bastard ...

His hand goes behind him to the cellar door ... but at
that moment the ghoulish Karen leaps upon him with great
thud ... 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 ...
reeling ... head-first 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 the hysteria of revenge, has flung herself
into the attack. She smashes a chair against one of the
aggressors... it goes down ... she smashes and smashes
it ... on the floor ... until there is nothing left of
the chair ... she comes up, still swinging, fighting with
Ben against the things that have come into the house.
It is quite apparent that they cannot hold out ... The
attack rages ... they are overwhelmed ... Ben grabs
Barbara and pulls her after him toward the cellar ... she
is lashing and swinging, beating at an attacker, even as he
drags her away ...

Ben flings open the door to the cellar ... and Helen is at
his throat ... he brings the gun up between their
struggling bodies until the muzzle 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 ... but beginning to rise ... Ben
pushed Barbara back ... she turns 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 the 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 on the high grass of a meadow.

Men with dogs and guns reworking their way up form 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 leashes ...
Sheriff McClelland’s posse. A few men, some with German
Shepherds on leashes, finally come up out of the woods and
onto the edge of the sunlit, dewy meadow. The wet grass
has dampened 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 balled-up dirty handkerchief ...

MCCLELLAND
(Shouting back at the men
still working their way
toward the clearing)
Come on ... let’s step lively
now ... never can tell what we’ll
run into up here ... .

He accosts a man just climbing out of the woods. The man
wears an improvised sweat-band, carries a rifle and sidearm, and has a walkie-talkie strapped on his back.

MCCLELLAND
You keeping in touch with the
squad-cars, George?

GEORGE
(Breathing hard, adjusting
the straps and burden across
his back)
Yeah ... they know where we are.
They should be intercepting us at
the house ...

MCCLELLAND
Good ... these men is dogtired ... they can use some rest
and hot coffee ... (He looks
back, to the men moving up from
behind. He shouts) Let’s push
along, now ... the squad cars’ll
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 is the sound of a
dog. Ben listens for a long time, but hears 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 a dirt road, and up a
short grade, is Barbara’s car, with the smashed window.

MCCLELLAND
Looks like this guy’s car ...
poor fellow ... 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.

PATROLMAN
Hi, Connie ... how’s things
goin’?

McClelland advances and shakes hands, stops awhile, mops
his brow again. The men begin to catch up and regroup.
The posse fills the bend in the narrow road.

MCCLELLAND
Sure glad to see you fellas,
Charlie ... we been at it all
night ... but I don’t want to
break ‘til we get to the house
over there ... We might be
lollygaggin’ around whole somebody
needs our help. we’ll see first,
then stop and get some
coffee ... ...

PATROLMAN
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
mumbled sound of what must be the voices of approaching
men. There is even what sounds like a car engine ... Ben
bolts excitedly down the stairs. Ben wakes the girl.

BEN
Barbara ... Barb ... here,
honey ... there’s men
outside ... I can hear them ...
they must be here to rescue
us ...

Outside, we see the cause of the gunshots. The posse is
flushing out ghouls 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.

MCCLELLAND
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 form the recent siege.
He edges his way through the twisted wreckage and
overturned furniture toward the front door. 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 right out ... . Ben reels, driven back ...
a circle of blood on his forehead, right between his
eyes ...

Barbara’s scream is heard, from downstairs ...
simultaneously, McClelland shouts, his face flushed with
anger ... .

MCCLELLAND
Damn it, what’d you shoot for? I
told you to be careful ... there
might be people in there ... ..

MAN WHO FIRED THE SHOT
Naw, this place is demolished,
there ain’t nobody in there ... ..

PATROLMAN
I’m sure I heard a girl’s
scream ... from the basement,
maybe ... .

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 opened 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.
McClelland enters and begins to inch his way down the
stairs.

MCCLELLAND
Anybody down there?
(He shouts)
He draws his pistol, inches his way down the stairs. At
the bottom, he confronts Barbara, sitting wide-eyed in a
chair. McClelland raised his pistol, aims it for her
head ... but something stops him ... a tear in her
eye ... he lowers the weapon ...

MCCLELLAND
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 scene of
McClelland draping his jacket around Barbara and bringing
coffee to her lips, we see Ben’s body on a stretcher,
carried by two men ... they lift it into the rear of a
station-wagon ...

MCCLELLAND
It’s too bad ... an accident ...
the only loss we had, the whole
night.

THE END