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

Episode Date: October 29, 2025

The TV clicks on. Everything else clicks off.The screen glows like the last church in hell. A newscaster reads order into chaos while the world decomposes behind him. Ben watches like a man staring at his own grave. Barbara, in Olivia Graham’s haunting performance, doesn’t watch at all. She’s already gone.Then the floor creaks. Harry Cooper climbs out of the basement like ego in human form. Jim Connor gives him every ounce of misplaced authority. Behind him, Helen (Wendy Shapero) and their daughter—pale, bitten, doomed.Romero stops making a zombie movie and starts the autopsy. The dead don’t kill the living. The living do that themselves.Ben wants the boards. Harry wants the basement. Tom (Charlie Bodin) just wants peace. Every word is gasoline. Every silence is a match.When dawn comes, it’s not rescue. It’s rifles. One shot. One mistake. One truth.Romero didn’t make horror. He made history. Turn off the lights. Lock the doors. Remember who the real monsters were.CAST Narrator: Jack Daniel Ben: Zeke Alton Barbara: Olivia Graham Harry Cooper: Jim Connor Helen Cooper: Wendy Shapero Tom: Charlie Bodin Sheriff McClelland: Rob Fitzgerald Announcer: Adam Pilver Ghouls: Natalia Castellanos & Josh SterlingSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Previously on Night of the Living Dead, the farmhouse-turned-fortress became a potter cake, and Ben was the man holding the match. Harry Cooper clawed for control. Ben demanded respect. The dead just wanted flesh. And when fear took the wheel out on that lonely road, the truck burned, Hope died,

and Sunrise started to look a lot like judgment. Act 3. Where the masks fall, the guns come out, and Romero proves the real monster was America all along. Act 3. The cellar door swings open. Helen and Harry step into the hallway. Fultering, 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 cell. Helen, too, is overwrought due to the emotional effect of the recent argument and to the fact that she's about to meet strange people in an anxious circumstance. But only Tom and Barbara are in the living room, and Barbara, overcome with nervous exhaustion, is sleeping fitfully on the couch.

We can see the broadcast, I think, if the TV works, I have to go help Ben. Helen has gone immediately to Barbara, looks down at her sympathetically, brushes back her hair and pulls the overcoat around her shoulders. Poor thing. She must have been through a lot. Harry, during these moments, has been flitting anxiously all over the house, from door to window to kitchen to living room, checking out the actual degree of security

and worrying about imminence of attack at any second. I think her brother was killed out there. Tom! Hey, Tom! Are you going to 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. Her brother was killed.

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. I don't care. There's people up here. Why don't you do something to help somebody?

Harry, not really hearing her, is staring once more into the gloom outside. I can't see a damn thing out there. There can be 50 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 scent to plug in the court. Wake the girl up. There's going to be a thing on the tube. She might as well know where she stands.

I don't want anybody's life on my hands. Harry, stop acting like a child. I don't want to hear nothing else from you, Mr. 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, so now we're going to just let her sleep at all.

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 abated 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. 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.

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.

Assign little credibility to the theory that this onslaught is a product of a mass hysteria. Authorities advise utmost caution until the menace can be brought under absolute control. Eyewitness accounts have been investigated and documented. Corpses of vanquished aggressors are presently being examined by medical pathologists, but 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. Rural or otherwise isolated dwellings have most frequently been the objective of frenzied, concerted attack. Isolated families are in extreme danger. Escape attempts should be made in heavily armed groups and by motor vehicle if possible. Appraise your situation carefully before deciding upon an escape tactic. Fire is an effective weapon. These beings are highly flammable. Escape groups should strike out for the nearest urban community. Man-defense

outposts have been established on major arteries leading into all communities. These outposts are equipped to defend refugees and to offer medical and surgical assistance. Police and vigilante groups are in the process of combing remote areas and search and destroy missions against all aggressors. These patrols are attempting to evacuate isolated families. But rescue efforts are proceeding slowly due to the increased danger of nightfall and the sheer enormity of the task. Rescue for those in isolated circumstances is highly undependable. You should not wait for a rescue party unless there is no possibility of escape. If you are few against many, you will almost certainly be overcome.

The aggressors are irrational and demented. Their sole urge is the quest for human flesh. Sheriff Conan W. McClellan 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 videotape interview. Open on wideshot. 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. medium close-up, so that as he talks, we catch glimpses of activity in the background. He is shouting commands, supervising defense measures and the burning of the bodies, at the same time trying to answer reporters' questions.

We cut or zoom closer. Neklellan is pacing around, not straying too far, because a Lavalier microphone is hanging on a cord around his neck. The crackle of the bonfire, the shouts and bustle of activity can be constantly heard behind his commentary. As he talks, he frequently turns away, his primary concern being his efforts in dealing with the aggressors and controlling his search party. Yeah, well, this is a rough country for an evening hike. But things ain't going too badly. The men are taking it pretty well. We killed 19 of them today, right around this general area.

These last three we found trying to claw their way into an abandoned mine shit. nobody in there but these things just pounding and cloning and trying to bust their way in it's funny in a way once i thought there was people in there we heard the racket came and blast them down what's your opinion then can we defeat these things there ain't no problem the only problem is whether we can get to them before they kill off all these people but me and my man we can handle them okay we ain't lost nobody or suffered any casualties i got to do is shoot for the eyes. You can tell anybody out there,

all you got to do is draw a sharp bead and shoot for the eyes. Or you beat them down and lop their heads off. Then I'd have a decent chance, even if I was surrounded by two or three of them? Well, if you had yourself a club or a good torch. You could home off or burn them to death. They catch fire like nothing.

Go up like wax paper. But the best thing is to shoot them in the eyes. You know, don't wait for us to rescue you because if it gets you too far outnumbered, you've had it. We're doing our best, but we only got so many men and a whole lot of open country to come. But you think you can bring these things under control? Oh, we've 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 them, we're going to be able to kill them, so it's a matter of time. They're weak, but there are plenty of them, so don't wait for no rescue park. 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've got to sit stock still, wait for help. And we'll try like hell to get there before they do. Oh, tell them to shoot for the eyes. That'll stop them low-jobbers. You have heard Sheriff Conan W. McClellan for the County Department of Public Protection. This is your Civil Defense Emergency Network, with reports every hour on the hour for the duration of this emergency. Remain in your homes. Keep all doors and windows

locked. Do not under any circuit. Ben reaches over and clicks off the television. Why'd you click it off for? Man said they only come on every hour. We heard all we need to know. We got to get out of here. He said the rescue stations have doctors and medical supplies. If we could get there, they could help Karen. How are we going to bust out of here? We've got a sick kid, two women, one of them out of her head and three men. And there's a million of them things outside. Willard has a checkpoint there, about 17 miles from here. Wait, you from here?

You know this area? Yeah. Yeah, I was working in the cemetery across the road. I'm the caretaker. Two of them things attacked me, and I high-tailed it over here. Found everybody wiped out. Not too long after these other people fought their way in here, and I was scared, but I opened the basement door and I let them in.

Unbeknownst to everybody else, Barbara has been sitting up listening. Now she speaks, startling them and gathering their attention. She has come down from her hysteria, but is very weak. You work in the cemetery? My brother is over there. You poor thing. My girl is hurt too. We have to get to a rescue station.

The television told us we have to try and escape. Well, I think we ought to stick right here and wait for a rescue party. He said if you're few against many, you don't have a chance. We can't tram 17 miles through those things. We ain't got to tram. My truck's right outside the door. This stops, Harry. There is a moment of silence.

But I'm just about out of gas. But there's a pump near the shed outside. It's just locked. The key ought to be around somewhere. There's a big key reing in the basement. I'm going to go look. The keys are labeled. Is there a food seller? Yeah, why?

We're going to need lots of jars. We can make Molotov cocktails, scare those things back, and then fight our way to the pump and gas up the truck. Oh, we're going to need kerosene. There's a jug in the basement, too. Barbara and I can help. We can rip up sheets and things. Here's the key ring.

The pump key is marked with a piece of tape. Good. That settles that question. But we should take a crowbar anyway, in case the key don't work. The crowbar can double us 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. 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. Barbara and Helen can do that. Harry, you're going to have to guard the upstairs. Once we onboard the door, those things can get in here easy. But me and Tom got to get back in here, too, once we get back with the truck. You got to guard the door. and unlock it for us.

Then, we'll board it up as fast as we can because those things are going to come fast on our hills, all right? Now, if we don't get back, well, then you'll be able to see it from upstairs and you can barricade the door again and go to the basement. Then you can just sit down there and wait for your rescue party. I want the gun, then.

It's the best thing for me to use. You're not going to have time to stop at aim. Oh, I'm keeping this gun. Nobody else lays a hand on it. I found it, and it's mine. You don't care. What happens to us? How do we know you and Tom won't just take the truck and cut out?

That's the chance you're going to have to take. If we cut out, you'll have your goddamn basement. Like you've been crying about this whole time. We're going to die here if we don't all work together. My brother's out there. Maybe we can get him and bring him back. He's just wounded. He'll be okay.

That's okay, honey. We'll be all right. Maybe your brother will be, too. Let's get busy. We got a lot to do if we're going to bust out of here. He is on his feet taking command. We fade out of the scene. Fade into a new scene, completion of escape preparations.

Tom 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 the holes which Thomas cut in the jarlets. Between them is a crude stretcher made of broomsticks and torn sheets,

this presumably for the wounded girl, Karen. The television is off, but the radio drones lowly, repeating the recorded message. The radio is on as a monitor only, that they might work and still keep up with news that may affect their situation. I don't know what to think about my brother.

We have to get out of here. Maybe we'll find him in Willard. Maybe he was able to crawl to the car and get away. We have to think of ourselves now. It's hard for you. But it's all we can do. My girl is getting worse, too.

I have to get her a doctor. Room sticks and belt buckles and old sheets. She must hold okay. I always hated the Boy Scouts. It'll be okay. Is there anything open upstairs? Some windows in the room, is unfastening the doors now.

We'll throw the cocktails from upstairs Just splash the whole area with them That should keep most of them away While we break for the truck We're ready, here comes Ben now Ben, the gun strapped around his back Is carrying a crowbar and claw hammer He walks around checking preparations

Smiles of Barbara, glad to see she's a little better All right, things are ready up there Now, me and Tom Go on board the front door Harry, you take the two women upstairs carry them all top cocktails with you. As 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 out here and get in the cellar. Don't forget the stretcher, all right? When we hear footsteps on the stairs, me and Tom would be gone. It'll be up to you, Harry. You've got to watch this door.

Got yourself a good length of pipe? I have a pitch fork. Good, good. Okay. Tom and Ben go over to the door. The others Gary fruit jars, etc. and sneak quietly to the unboarded room upstairs. Tom and Ben are left alone. Tom is soaking a table leg and 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 creek is a menace. They are a 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 lights in the yard. More follow. Some aimed for the creatures themselves. One or two catch fire. The other start to back away. The entire field is lit up.

Bombs shower from upstairs. That's all. Ben, run for it! His voice echoes as Tom and Ben burst into the yard. They're armed with torches and with a gun. They leap into the truck. Tom plunges a torch into the chest of an attacker, who immediately catches fire and goes down in 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 Ames 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 of pieces Gas spurts out all over the place Creatures advance Gas still spurting Tom crammed the nozzle into the mouth of the gas tank

in the back of the truck Ben crouches and level He travels off with his weapon. An approaching attacker goes down. But more are coming in. Tom's torch has inadvertently set fire to the Dow's truck. The flames begin to lick and spread. The attackers gather in force ever closer.

Tom leaps into the flaming truck. It skids and lurches across the yard. Ben shouts to no avail. The flaming truck speeds away, driven by the panic Tom. Several of the things are upon Ben. He thrashes and pounds them with torch and gun. Ignoring Tom, he has to doves. to try and fight his way back to the house.

From inside the house, the panicked and cowardly Harry has only seen pieces of the action. He has been darting back and forth from door to window and trying to see what has been happening outside. From his viewpoint, the escape attempt has met with total doom. He has seen the truck catch fire driven away by Tom. Ben appears to be overwhelmed. Harry runs again to the door. He sees the truck completely in flames, speeding away from the house toward a small. 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 continually unmanned from the far rise and explodes violently. The noise and flames 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. Let me in!

Open this door! 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 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 word punctuated by an additional slam of Harry against the wall. Next time you try something like that, I don't kill you.

Ben slams him one final time. He slides down the wall, crumbles on the floor. His face is swollen. He is streaming blood. Ben is already at the cellar door. 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 ice pack against his eye. His good eye follows Ben, who is pacing about the room, where Ben's pacing takes him to the kitchen or to some area out of Harry's sight, the good

eye, nervously relaxing. Ben's movements make virtually the only sound. He is checking the defenses by force of old habit rather than hope. The rifle is slung on his back. For a long time, We dwell on the scene, on the absolute dejectedness of the prisoners within the barricaded house. Ben paces from door to kitchen to window. He starts to go upstairs, stops, checks himself, goes to the door again. He looks at his watch. Ten minutes to three. There'll be another broadcast in ten minutes.

Nobody says anything. Ben pulls back the curtain. His eyes grow suddenly wide, but he watches for a long moment. We see his view of the outside. There are many 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 on various parts of the lawn. But Ben's eyes are fastened on a more grisly scene at the engine log. In the moonlight, several ghouls debowering what had once been Tom. They rip and tear into aspects of his body, ghoulous teeth, biting into Tom's arms and hands. Ben's 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. Don't... No none of you look out there. You won't like what you see. Harry's good eye fastens on Ben, watches him, satisfied and contemptuous to see the big man weaken. Ben moves for the television, clicks it on.

Barber's screen pierces the room. Ben leaps back from the television. She is on her feet, screaming uncontrollably. Oh, we'll never get out of here. None of us. We'll never get out of her life. Johnny! Johnny!

Oh! Oh, God! None of us. None of us. Help! Oh, God! God, help! Before anyone can move to her, she chokes up as suddenly she began,

and slumps, sobbing violently, to the couch. Her face buried in her hands. Helen tries to soothe her, but great sobs come racking from deep within. She grows gradually quiet. The sobs diminish, but she remains slumped on the couch, her face covered with her hands. Helen covers her with the overcoat, but this action seems futile. Barbara makes no movement whatsoever. Ben allows himself to sink very slowly into a chair in front of the TV.

Harry's good eye goes from Barbara to Ben. His eye fastens on the gun, which Ben lowers butt first to the floor and leans across his legs. Ben threads his arm through the fringe sling and maintains his grip on the forepiece. Harry watches. I'm going to the cellar to take care of Karen. 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 skin getting lines and static. He has turned the set on too early. 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 it as swollen, in blackened condition, and the desperation on his face. Ben still gazes at the TV. Worried about the possibility that Ben might catch them in the act and not really sympathizing with Harry. Helen pulls away, but she leans her face to Harry's and whispers quickly.

I'm not going to help you. Haven't you had enough? He'd kill us both. She goes to the cellar, and on the way has to pass behind Ben's chair. She hesitates. Her eyes fall on the gun. The sling is wound around Ben's arm. We study her face.

It is not clear whether she would have taken it or not. But she makes no attempt. She opens the door and goes down into the cellar. Harry's eye follows her as she leaves. As Helen reaches the bottom of the cellar, 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. Karen? She starts for her, but stops. There is something strange. Her face turned slowly toward her. We see the ghoulish look in her eye. 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've 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. Harry! Harry! Give me a hand over here! Harry comes over behind Ben. 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. What are you up to, man? We've got to get these things out of the house. 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 thuds.

Karen is at Harry's throat. Ben is able to grab the gun. He levels off, trying to hit the kid, but a sudden wrench of the two struggling bodies, and then misses. Harry scream! 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, 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 heat. against the wall, but things have broken into the house. Everywhere, the barricades are coming apart. Barbara, with a hysteria of her Ben, has flung herself into 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 hands up, still swimming, fighting with Ben against the things that are coming to the house. It's 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 attack. Even as he drags her. Ben brings 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.

floor. He is dead. But beginning to rise, Ben pushed Barbara back. She turned her head away. Ben raises the gun and we study this as three evenly spaced shots rip the room. Ben is almost glad to kill Harry. He turns to Barbara, breathing hard. She collapses against him and begins to sob. We hear faint pounding against the barricaded cellar door, but it is holding. The creatures cannot get in. The screen is black. There are sounds of birds, fainter sounds of dogs, human voices, fade up quickly, sunrise, the morning after the siege. The sky is clear. The rising sun is bright and warm. There is dew in the high grass of a meadow. Men with dogs and guns reworking their way up from the woods that surround the meadow.

We do not see the posse at first. We merely hear their sounds, shouts, muffled talk, panting and straining of dogs against leashes. Sheriff McClellan'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, Dewey Meadow. The wet grass has dampened the boots and trouser legs of the men. McClellan 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 Come on, let's step loudly now Never can't tell what we'll run into up here

He accosts a man just climbing up out of the woods The man wears an improvised sweatband Carries a rifle and sidearm And has a walkie-talkie strapped on his back You keep it in touch with the squad car's George? Yeah. They know where we are. They should be intercepting us at the house. Good. These men is dog tired. They could use some rest in hot coffee. Let's push along now. The squad cars will be waiting with coffee and sandwiches at the house.

The men push on across the field. Inside the house, Ben and Barbara have been dozing on chairs in the basement. Ben wakes abruptly, thinking he has heard something, but he isn't sure. He sits up and listens more close. From far off, there's the sound of a dog. Ben listens for a long time, but here's nothing more. Outside, the meadow has become the apron of a cemetery. The one Barbara and John had come to with the flowers for their father. The posse is advancing, threading its way among the grave markers. A man finds John's skeletal remains near the spot where he had fallen.

Down the dirt road, and up a short grade, is Barbara's car, with a smashed window. And it looks like this guy's car, or fella, never had a chance. The men passed 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 tremendous mounts and hails McClelland. Hi, Connie. How's things going? McClellan advances and shakes hands, stops a while, mops his brow again. The men begin to catch up and regroup.

The posse fills the bend In the narrow road I sure Glad to see you fellas Charlie We've been out at it all night But I want to break till we get in that house over there We might be lolly gagging around While somebody needs our help

We'll see first Then stop and get some coffee Anything you say, Connie Inside the house Ben has sneaked up to the top of the cellar stairs He listens there very intently Not wanting to open the door Because creatures may still be in the house

This time, for sure, he hears gunshots And the mumbled sound of what must be voices of approaching men There is even what sounds like a car engine Ben bolts excitedly down the stairs Ben wakes the girl Barber, Barb, here, honey, there's men outside I can hear him He must be here to rescue us

Outside, we see the cars of the gunshots The posse is flushing out ghouls from the pump house And surrounding area The squad cars have been driven up. The posse is advancing across the lawn, guardedly, toward the partially destroyed old farmhouse. The men crouch and sneak up slowly, keeping their eyes fastened on the house. A loud sudden noise stops them. They watch, stopped in their tracks. Shoot for the eyes, boys. Like I told you before, always aim right for the eyes. Inside, ready to shoot or swing, Ben has slammed open the cellar

door. The force of his shoulder against the door has carried him into the living room. Nothing. Only the ramshackle and destruction from the recent siege. He edges his way through the twisted wreckage and overturned furniture toward the 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 rings out. Ben reels, driven back, a circle of blood on his forehead, right between his eyes. Barber's scream is heard from downstairs.

Simultaneously, McClellan's shone. shouts, his face flushed with anger. Damn it, what did you shoot for? I told you to be careful. There might be people in there. Nah, this place is demolished. There ain't nobody in there. I'm sure I heard girls scream from maybe the basement.

Several men have advanced to kick in the front door. They step back and peer cautiously inside. Their faces search the room. A patch of sunlight from the open door falls partially on Ben. He is dead. The men looked down at him, but stepped past him toward the sun. They do not know he was a man. From the cellar, they hear muffled sobs.

McClellan enters and begins to inch his way down the stairs. Anybody down there? He draws his pistol, inches his way down the stairs. At the bottom, he confronts Barbara, sitting wide-eyed in a chair. McClellan raises his pistol, aims it for her head. But something stops him. A tear in her eye. He lowers the weapon.

It's all right, men. It's all right, men. Come on down. It's just a girl down here. He goes to Barbara. Fends over her, looks at her, begins to help her up. Closing scene, with titles and credits.

Burning of bodies in the yard of the old house. Perhaps the burning of the house itself. In the background, against the scene of McClellan draping his jacket around Barbara and bringing coffee to her lips, we see Ben's body on a stretcher carried by two men. They lifted into the rear of a station wagon. It's too big.

had an accident, the only loss we had the whole night. The end. Excellent.