It's Alive Page #2

Davis, Davis, wait!

What does my baby look like?

What's wrong with my baby?

Doctor!

Mr. Davis, out of here!

Where's the baby?

Where's the baby?

The umbilical cord's been

severed, but not surgically.

It looks like the thing's

been chewed off.

Where's the baby?

Get off of me!

Get your hands off!

- Lenore!

- Come on, let's go!

Lenore!

Let me go!

Let me go!

Let go of me!

Everything's going

to be all right.

My wife isn't!

Tell me my baby's not dead.

Don't touch me.

Don't you touch me.

They've stolen my baby.

I don't want my baby to be dead.

Tell me my baby

isn't dead, please.

I assure you, Mrs. Davis,

your baby is very much alive.

Oh, thank you.

Thank you.

We located a broken

skylight on the third floor.

Blood and excess tissue

on the roof.

Lieutenant, what's it look like to you?

Something small.

Doctor?

Doctor:
She's coming

out of sedation now.

Lenore?

Lenore, can you

hear me, darling?

Somebody might have

abducted our baby,

and I'm holding

this hospital responsible.

That hole in the

skylight isn't large enough

for a full-sized human being.

There's no other way out

of that delivery room.

Lieutenant:

The doctor's correct.

Let's not have a discussion

about it, shall we Lieutenant?

I've asked your husband

to submit to some tests.

And I've refused.

You've never been exposed

to radioactivity

and radioactive material,

or undergone extensive x-rays?

No, Doctor, I told you.

Doctor:
Well, we can't

rule out genetic damage.

I noticed that you did inquire

about abortion eight months ago.

Doesn't everybody

inquire about it nowadays?

It's just a question

of convenience,

and we decided to have the baby.

We all make mistakes.

I apologize for that crack.

Let me talk to you outside,

come on.

You're not afraid of me,

are you?

I've always been afraid of you,

especially those eyes.

I wanted a boy so badly.

I think he was probably

very frightened,

even though he's different.

And...

l just...

I think he was probably afraid

they were going to hurt him.

Sweetheart.

He's not ugly.

Darling.

Darling.

Darling, you're

so exhausted, sweetheart.

Hmm?

You don't know

what you're saying.

I'm going to check up

on those two.

I don't trust them.

I mean,

can you imagine?

Can you imagine those

guys, trying to blame us?

We are the parents, sweetheart.

I'll be right back.

Okay.

Doctor Norton has decided

your wife can go home.

First thing in the morning.

Of course, you realize

it's in everyone's interest

to keep this quiet

for the time being,

at least until we can find out

what's become of the infant.

You have heard, uh,

no word about it?

No.

I don't see how it

could survive the night

without clothing

and nourishment.

Of course, like any animal,

it's maybe--

It's not--

it's not an animal, Doctor.

You know that very well.

Well, whatever it is, uh,

you can't classify it

as an animal.

It's a human, Doctor.

And that's what's

disgusting to you, isn't it?

It kills like an animal.

And when we find it,

we're gonna have to

destroy it like one.

I don't care.

I suppose you have

to do what's necessary.

I'm glad you feel that way.

I only hope your wife

understands as well.

What's there to understand?

Better not to think about it.

Wanna say good night

to your wife,

and, uh, maybe I'll drive

you home, huh?

No, thanks.

Okay darling,

I'll see you in the morning.

Stay on duty.

Announcer:
Police still

offer no explanation

for the series of five deaths

which occurred early today

at the Saint George Medical

Center in Santa Monica.

Officers are still working on

a round-the-clock schedule.

Informed sources at the hospital

allege the deaths resulted

from attacks by an infant born

only today in a mutated form,

but officials declined comment.

This station has acquired

exclusive information

naming Mr. and Mrs. Frank

Davis of West Los Angeles

as the parents

of the infant in question.

The whereabouts of the

newborn child are not known.

They named us.

The bastards, they named us.

Barbara, Babara would you

come here for a minute, please?

Yes, sir?

Barbara, I have to pick up my

wife at the hospital tonight,

so can you reschedule

that Sturbridge dinner

for tomorrow evening?

I think that Mr. Clayton

wants to talk to you.

And about the Marcus affair,

I think we can

have those cocktails

at 6:
30 at the Hilton tomorrow.

I know he wants

to approve the campaign

by the end of the week.

I think you'd better

see Mr. Clayton now.

I'll be right back.

Well well, come on in.

All right, Bob.

You must be exhausted,

you eaten anything?

Get Frank a couple of

poached eggs

on an English muffin with

a side of Canadian bacon,

and a tall glass of

freshly-squeezed orange juice.

That should do the trick.

I don't want you

collapsing on me here.

Look, Frank, don't let it

get you down.

These things happen.

At least, that's what they say.

Who's "they"?

I spoke to the hospital.

They give you information?

I got connections over there,

you know.

I'm the Vice Chairman of

the fundraising committee.

Hey listen, If there's any

little thing I can do for you--

No, jeez, thanks, Bob.

I'm getting her out of

there myself tonight.

You think that's wise?

Hey, uh, Barbara told me

you want to rap with me.

Yeah, Frank.

Frank, you, uh...

you've accrued

three weeks' vacation.

Yeah?

You think it would be a good

idea if you took it now?

I can't, Bob.

I've got the Marcus account

and the Sturbridge campaign.

L'm--

I'm just bogged down in work.

Besides, I need to work, Bob,

it keeps my mind off things.

But Frank, we're running a

public relations business here.

Our job is creating an image.

Right now, um,

you're a little controversial.

Our clients want their

PR men to be anonymous.

Maybe after a little while,

when you're less of a celebrity.

You're not taking those

accounts away from me, are you?

I mean, not now.

At the last minute?

These things happen, Frank.

Look, you know O'Connors

down in Accounting?

He's got a retarded kid,

insists on keeping him

in the house, too.

Nobody thinks a thing of

that, nobody blames him.

We're not-- we're not

talking about a retarded kid,

and you know it.

We're talking about a

monstrosity of some kind.

Yeah, well... maybe we'd

better not talk about that, huh?

Bob,

I wouldn't wish this

on my worst enemy.

It's just that I... I don't

know what to do, Bob,

how to behave.

And they're,

putting microphones in my face.

They're asking me questions

I don't understand.

What you need is

a good public relations firm

to handle all of that for you.

That's-- that's very funny.

Bob, uh,

this is all going to

be all right, isn't it,

when whatever this

thing is is dead, right?

Maybe it already is.

Look, Frank, why don't you go

down the service elevator?

You won't have to meet

all those media people, huh?

Take care.

Uh... have them

empty out his desk,

send his personal articles

to his house.

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