Fiend Without a Face Page #2

We've got to lick this power fade.

Tell them to pour it on.

Peterson.

Pete, this is Cummings,

Master Control.

We want you to give us

everything you've got.

But Jeff, we've already

exceeded the designed limits.

Every time you take a test

you ask for more power.

If I take any more rods out, the

reactor's liable to go out of control.

Well, take some more out.

We'll have to risk it.

- We've got to have more power.

- Okay, it's your funeral.

Mine too, probably.

- Yes, sir?

- Remove ten more rods

from reactor number three.

- That's crazy, sir.

- Yeah, I know, but it's an order.

Power's been boosted, sir,

but still can't increase image further.

It doesn't matter how much

we boost the transmitter power

if it doesn't reach the plane.

You know, it's almost as if the power

were being drained off.

Well, we'll just have to

keep working on it.

And in the meantime, what new excuse

do I give the Pentagon?

This is Green Dog.

This is Green Dog.

Standing by

for instructions. Over.

Okay, Green Dog.

Okay, Green Dog.

Test Baker is completed.

Return to base.

Repeat, Test Baker is completed.

Return to base. Over.

- Roger and out.

- Okay, Sergeant, let's close shop.

Jacques Griselle's sum of good

overshadows the other.

What has he marked up

in the ledger for good...

as against the ledger for bad?

He was a good and generous man...

And now we consecrate the worldly

remains of our beloved Jacques...

to the good earth

from whence he sprang.

- Closer and closer.

- Thank goodness the cows

are getting used to them.

Aye.

Are we eating soon?

It'll be ready in a minute.

I just want to feed the chickens first.

Amelia! Amelia!

Amelia! Amelia!

What is it?

What is it?

What happened?

Amelia!

- Can I see you home, Barbara?

- No, thank you, Mayor.

I think I better go back with Professor

Walgate, keep my mind occupied.

Are you sure you want to?

My work can wait, you know.

Say, Mayor!

Ben Adams and his wife are dead,

same as young Griselle.

- Where?

- Up at their farm.

At the edge of the air base.

But Mayor Hawkins, you're taking

a great deal for granted.

There is absolutely no evidence...

pointing to radioactive fallout...

or radioactive

contamination of any kind.

Yes, we'll do everything we can,

I assure you.

Yes. Yes. Good-bye.

In addition to our headaches

with the Pentagon,

we're now being accused of killing off

the people in this town.

Perhaps they'd cooperate,

sir, if we could explain more

about our antimissile program.

- Not the secrets...

- You know that's impossible, Jeff.

Come in.

It'll be rough

if the town turns against us.

Sir, we began a complete

investigation of the Adams farm,

but the local constable,

a man named Gibbons,

told us to get off the place.

Said it came under his jurisdiction,

and we had no business being there.

What kind of cooperation

do you call that?

They're nervous, upset. We've got

to find out how those people died.

Suppose you get

all of the Adams' relatives.

See if you can persuade them

to let us do an autopsy.

- Yes, sir, I'll try.

- Reassure them. Promise them anything.

But get hold of those bodies.

I made a complete autopsy

on both cases.

I called Dr. Bradley in to check

my findings, and our opinions concur.

It's fantastic.

On examination

of the skull of Mr. Adams,

I noticed two small holes on

the base of the occipital region here.

They penetrated

to the medulla oblongata,

where the spinal cord

meets the brain.

I opened the skull

to investigate and found this.

The brain, it's gone!

Yes, sucked out like an egg

through those two holes.

That's not all.

The entire spinal cord is missing.

But it...

it's incredible.

It's as if some mental

vampire were at work.

Where has the brain

and spinal cord gone?

I'm a doctor, Colonel,

not a detective.

There's nothing like this

in the books.

Major Cummings had the best

explanation so far... mental vampire.

That's rubbish!

Possibly some animal...

Colonel, Colonel, I've lived

in these backwoods all my life,

and I can assure you there's no animal

in these parts that could do that.

Maybe that guy Gibbons was right

about the supernatural.

Well, whatever the explanation,

we'll find it.

We must find it.

In the meantime, Doctor,

I trust I can rely on your discretion.

Not to tell the mayor or

the townspeople?

Of course. I've got an overworked

practice as it is, Colonel.

Thank you.

Dr. Warren, I want you

to get on the phone.

Consult the top medical specialists,

wherever they are.

- Yes, sir.

- Captain,

contact the best authorities.

Tell them what the problem is.

Find out what they have to say.

Jeff, the townsfolk know you.

Talk to them.

Check on anything that seems to be

extraordinary, no matter what it is.

Hello?

Anybody home?

Uh, Miss Griselle?

Oh, Miss Griselle, I, uh...

Great.

Look, um, Miss Griselle,

I'm sorry for, um,

barging in like that.

But, well, I knocked

and there was no answer.

The door was open, so l...

Make yourself at home, Major.

I'll be out in a minute.

Uh, thank you.

Found something interesting?

Oh, I was just glancing around...

That's all right. Prof. Walgate was

preparing these for publication anyway.

- Are you collating his material?

- I do most of it.

He dictates on this.

I edit the tapes and prepare

the draft manuscripts.

- That's some job.

- Mmm, but interesting.

The professor must be

quite a guy... thought control,

sibonetics, all that stuff.

That's only half of it.

Strange, isn't it, finding a man

like that here in Winthrop?

In these uncivilized backwoods,

I think you were going to say.

Well, I'm afraid so.

The explanation is quite a simple one.

Prof. Walgate had a stroke

about five years ago.

- He's retired now.

- Well, he still works.

- And at odd hours.

- Odd hours?

He thinks nothing of starting

work at 11:
00 at night...

and working until the small

hours of the morning.

The mayor mentioned that Walgate

was an authority on psychic phenomena.

- Is that still a hobby if his?

- I don't know.

If it is, he'll have

Dr. Bradley after him.

Dr. Bradley said

no more overwork or excitement.

- What about you?

- What do you mean?

Don't you ever get

some time off?

Well, sometimes.

Hello, Howard.

Come on in.

Oh, this is Major Cummings

from the base.

Yeah, I know.

We've met.

Well, I guess

I'll be running along.

You've only just

been here a few minutes.

I was just passing

on my way back to the base.

Quite a roundabout route.

The new airfield extension

covers a lot of ground.

- Too much for Winthrop's liking.

- It must keep you busy.

Yes, yes,

there's a lot to do.

- I'll bet there is.

- Come again?

You found that G.I. Killer yet?

You'd be far better off huntin' him down

instead of tomcattin' around here.

I should bust you...

Cut it out, the both of you!

Come on!

Sorry. I hope

I didn't break anything.

I think you'd better leave. You've done

enough damage for one morning.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes