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You unlock this door with the key of imagination.

Beyond it is another dimension, a dimension of sound,

a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind.

You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas.

You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

Good evening, and welcome to a very special two hours of television.

Tonight, we will see for the first time two original dramas

created by perhaps television's greatest storyteller,

six-time Emmy Award winner Rod Serling.

Beginning with a short film about a contemporary

young woman whose life unfolds in a most unusual way.

We then travel to post-Civil War Massachusetts,

where Rod Serling's last unproduced screenplay comes to life.

So please sit back and join me as we journey into a

wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.

Your next stop, the Twilight Zone.

Melissa Sanders is having difficulty completing

her City Hall commissioned sculpture.

Her behavior is characteristic.

She delays.

She defers.

She refuses to commit to decisions in both her personal and professional life.

She thinks she has all the time in the world.

But she does not.

Because that world will change forever when Melissa Sanders

walks through the door of a certain movie theater into the Twilight Zone.

Hey, how'd it go with Jim?

What?

You can't keep me in suspense.

You can't keep me in suspense like that.

Pretty mean, huh?

You said yes, huh?

You looked at him over your lunch of a hamburger

and fries, and you said, yes, Dr. James.

I will marry you.

Not exactly.

No? Exactly what did you say?

I said no.

Forever no?

No, just for now.

Aw. - I like things the way they are.

Anyway, I thought he understood.

Yeah?

But?

He stood me up last night.

Oh. - Not a call, nothing.

Just me, all alone with my takeout dinner for two.

Well, there you go.

Hello.

Hello. - Hello.

Mrs. Sanders?

Yes?

Got something for you.

What do you think it is?

It's this.

And there's more.

There's two.

You know, while you do that, I think I'll get my reading glasses.

James is sorry.

James is sad.

James is a rotten, lousy cad.

James regrets he missed your date.

Doctoring kept him up real late.

Please say you forgive and hold all blame.

Love and kisses, Dr. James.

Tell him I forgive him, but James.

Free!

Next time, call.

How'd you know it was me?

When we've been married for 40 years, you're going to tell

our grandchildren that all I ever did was feed you junk food.

They'll think I'm cheap as all get-out.

A good hamburger is not junk food.

A lot of people feel that way.

And I'm not marrying you.

So you say today, I'll ask you tomorrow.

Don't.

You love me.

Just imagine all we're missing while you procrastinate.

Now is the right time for us.

James, what if it's the chase you love?

I'm afraid.

Stop being afraid.

When something is right, go for it.

You know this is right.

Why not make the commitment?

And if I do?

I'll dance on the rooftops.

What happens when your feet get tired?

You remember Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins?

Come on.

You can be Mary. - God.

Come on.

James, we're going to be late.

For what?

The film festival.

That's tonight?

They're playing His Girl Friday.

Oh, come on.

We made these plans two weeks ago.

Listen, I'm on duty tonight.

I can't believe you're just telling me this now.

You always do this to me.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

What can I do?

Well, I'm going anyway.

Thanks for dinner.

I never stand up Cary Grant.

You love me.

I'm not marrying you.

So you say today. I'll ask you tomorrow.

One, please.

Denied? I'm proud of it.

We've beaten the whole country on that story.

I suppose we did. That isn't what I got married for.

Oh, what is the good of... Look, now, look, Walt.

What I came up here to tell you is that you must stop

phoning me a dozen times a day, sending me 20 telegrams.

I write a beautiful telegram, don't I? Everybody says so.

Are you going to listen to what I have to say?

Look, look, what's the use of fighting, Hildy?

I'll tell you what you do. You come back to work on the paper.

If we find we can't get along in a friendly fashion, we'll get married again.

Walt?

Let's see, I haven't any hard feelings.

James is sorry.

James is sad.

James is a rotten, lousy cad.

James regrets he missed your date.

Doctor ain't kept him up real late.

Please say you forgive and hold all blame.

Love and kisses, Dr. James.

When we've been married for 40 years, you're going to tell

our grandchildren that all I ever did was feed you junk food.

They'll think I'm cheap as all get-out.

A good hamburger is not junk food.

A lot of people feel that way.

And I'm not marrying you.

So you say today, I'll ask you tomorrow.

Don't.

You love me.

Just imagine all we're missing while you procrastinate.

Now is the right time for us.

James, what if it's the chase you love?

I'm afraid.

Stop being afraid.

When something is right, go for it.

You know this is right.

Why not make the commitment?

And if I do?

I'll dance on the rooftops.

Listen, Walter.

Listen, I made a great reporter out of you, Hildy, but you

won't be half as good on any other paper, and you know it.

We're a team.

That's what we are.

You need me, and I need you.

Listen, Walter, please.

The paper's going to have to get along without me.

So will you.

Excuse me, where's Dr. McLean?

That was extremely clever.

Uh, thanks.

She likes the way I bandage.

No, the theater.

What you did was very funny.

I still can't figure out how you did it.

What, did you have some voyeuristic friend videotaping us?

Melissa, what are you talking about?

And then you paid off the projectionist at the theater.

Maybe I've been up for too many hours, but

this conversation isn't making any sense to me.

Am I missing something here?

Come on, James.

It had to have been you.

Cardiac arrest coming in.

I'll talk to you later.

It had to have been him.

One, please.

Oh, I am sorry.

And when he walks with a lady, he waits for her.

Oh, well, in that case... Allow me.

Well, I can see right away my wife picked out the right husband for herself.

How do you do, sir?

Must be some mistake.

I'm already married.

Oh, Hilda, you should have told me.

Congratulations again, Mr. Baldwin.

Oh, no, my name is... Excuse me, will you? I'm terribly busy.

Just leave your card with the boy. What did you say, Mr. Baldwin?

My name is... - Some other time.

I'm busy with Mr. Bruce Baldwin here.

I didn't hear what you said.

I was going to say that my name is... Now, look, what is it with you?

I'm Bruce Baldwin.

Oh, you're Bruce Baldwin.

Gee, thanks.

No, the theater.

That was very funny what you did.

I still can't understand how you did it.

What, did you have some voyeuristic friend videotaping us?

That's it, right?

Melissa, what are you talking about?

And then you... Excuse me.

What are you seeing?

What?

Talk to you later.

Do you see me up there?

Shh.

A man ought to be prepared for any emergency.

Well, Walter, I think we'd better be running along.

Maybe I've been up for too many hours, but

this conversation isn't making any sense to me.

Am I missing something here?

What do you see up there?

Huh?

Do you see me outside the theater?

I hope not.

That's not what we pay for.

Well, Walter, I think we'd better be running along.

Yes, we'd better be going.

Where are we going?

I'm taking you two to lunch.

Did you tell him, Hildy?

No, she didn't.

Well, I guess she just wanted to surprise you, Bruce.

After you.

After you, Hildy.

You're not gonna get away with it!

Oh my god...

It stopped!

You're not gonna get away with it!

I thought it was a joke, that somehow you did it.

I wish I had.

Sounds pretty clever.

It was scary.

I saw something that hadn't happened yet.

James, it was violent.

Sometimes when a person is upset, the mind can

project outward what is really an interior struggle.

I wasn't hallucinating.

Believe me, it's amazing what stress can do.

I didn't imagine those things.

I saw them on the screen.

They were there.

Okay.

Tomorrow, we'll go back to the theater together.

Maybe I'll see them too.

And then we can both check into a nice, quiet institution

with lovely grounds and occupational therapy games.

But don't go back there alone.

You hear me, wait for me, and we'll go together.

One, please.

Hello, Tuffy.

Get set.

We got the biggest story in years.

Earl Williams captured by the Morning Post exclusive.

Yeah.

And I want you to tear out the whole front page.

That's what I said, the whole front page out.

But never mind the European war.

We've got something a whole lot bigger than that.

I thought it was a joke,

that somehow you did it.

I wish I had.

Sounds pretty clever.

It was scary.

I saw something that hadn't happened yet.

James, it was violent.

Sometimes when a person is upset, the mind can

project outward what is really an interior struggle.

I wasn't hallucinating.

It's amazing what stress can do.

I didn't imagine those things.

I saw them on the screen.

They were there.

One, please.

One, one, please.

One, one, please.

One, one, please.

One, please.

Hey!

Okay, now.

Well, isn't that a coincidence?

Lady, it's a comedy, not a friggin' tragedy.

I went to the theater last night.

I couldn't help it.

The same thing happened.

I saw myself walking, going into the theater, sitting.

I saw myself getting more nervous the closer I got to the present.

I saw myself panic.

Melissa, calm down.

I saw myself leave the theater, walk to the bus stop.

And then I saw this blind man with a cane.

And there was this billboard card with the date March 20 on it.

Then I saw this big man come towards me.

I turned to get away.

I ran right into a bus.

But it didn't happen.

The future you saw didn't happen.

You're safe.

Yesterday was the 20th.

Don't you see?

This proves that what you were seeing on that

movie screen were images created by your mind.

No.

It was the future.

If you had seen the future, you'd be dead now.

The bus would have hit you, but it didn't.

No.

I ran the other way.

You've been playing some sort of dark game with yourself.

I don't know why.

But you've beaten the game.

What you feared was going to happen didn't happen.

You've broken the chain.

It's over.

You think so?

Dr. James's guarantee.

Okay, you can fill this at the pharmacy around the corner.

You know the date today?

March 20th.

Oh, my God.

Today is the 20th?

Melissa!

Yeah.

Go ahead.

I don't know.

I don't know why she did it.

I was coming towards, just trying to catch the bus.

And then she screamed, and she ran right into the bus.

Hey.

One, please.

A lot of people feel that way.

And I'm not marrying you.

I'm afraid.

Stop being afraid.

Stop being afraid.

The future you saw didn't happen.

Oh, my god.

Today is the 20th.

20th.

20th.

20th.

This proves that what you've been seeing on that

movie screen were images created by your mind.

I saw the future.

If you had seen the future, you'd be dead now.

You'd be dead now.

You'd be dead now.

You'd be dead now.

You'd be dead now.

It's over.

It's over.

It's over.

It's over.

There are films in the mind of every human being,

films that replay the past and on rare occasions, films

that reveal the future, warning us in no uncertain terms

that every minute is precious and we must always live our lives to the fullest.

Of course, these films would only be seen

if they are developed and projected from the Twilight Zone.

When was he brought in?

About an hour ago.

Police found him screaming on the sidewalk outside of a saloon.

One evening too many with old John Barleycorn.

Got you by the coattails, doesn't he, friend?

Help me.

Back in the ward!

He'll be dead in an hour.

But Dr. Ramsey is on his way down, sir.

To do what?

Right here?

Take him inside.

You don't honestly believe you can do anything for him.

What? You mean him?

Don't you mean it? The man's got peritonitis.

That appendage... - But he's a man, Doctor, so let us

treat him as a man and not as a potential cadaver.

You listen to me, Ramsey.

This isn't one of your mud-floored medical court tents.

We have discipline here, thank God, and some sense of priority.

Don't you think for a minute you can bring your battlefield manners in here?

I learned more medicine in those bloody tents

and in a dozen bloody meadows from Chicanagua

to the second ball run than you have in your

whole fat, posturing comfort of a lifetime.

Now, my anatomy class is waiting for me to remove an appendix.

Should you be heard during that surgery, I'll have you wheeled in

and the second offending organ to be removed would be your tongue.

Ether.

We're going to let you sleep now.

And when you wake, there will be no more pain.

You'll note, gentlemen, the symptoms.

Grey, sweating, full of fever.

Severe pain on the right side.

The location suggests appendix, the color and pain peritonitis,

which makes the removal of the appendix imperative.

And judging by the nature of the poison,

carries with it very little chance of survival.

Appendix removed.

Infection drained.

Tissues cut away, sutures in place.

Unfortunately, we've done all we can.

You. The hyena.

Me, doctor?

I want you to share the joke with us.

It wasn't exactly a joke, doctor.

I was just commenting.

I want to hear the comment.

Well, it's just that old thing about the

operation being successful and the patient dying.

Death can be tragic, premature, violent, unexpected, and sometimes merciful.

But if you ever find it funny, my young friend, you shouldn't be in a hospital.

You should be in a cage.

Dr. Ramsey?

He's gone.

Look at this.

Look at this cicatrice here.

That's a depressed skull fracture.

Massive trauma.

10, 12 inches long.

God knows how many years old.

What's it mean, doctor?

It means this man should have died years ago.

No one could have survived this.

Do you know this man?

His name's O'Neil, sir. Charity case.

They said he came from Yarmouth Village.

Where's that?

On the coast, about 80 miles from here.

Your deft surgical fingers notwithstanding, doctor, I understand our patient expired.

Reinforcing your view, doctor,

that the frail person is no match for the pale rider.

That's the part of you, Ramsay, that I find so difficult to live with, this constant

preoccupation with giving battle to death, as if it were your personal responsibility.

I'll put aside your insubordination, your willfulness, your impatience, and even your

monumental temper, and I'll even allow for the

fact that you happen to be a damn fine surgeon.

But was it the war that left you so emotionally knotted up?

So obsessed with the idea that maintaining life was your special province?

Have you heard of a man called Wheaton?

Jeremy Wheaton?

He spoke once at the university here.

Maybe 10 or 12 years ago.

Somewhere between a fraud and a crackpot.

He's done some interesting research on regeneration.

And then he disappeared.

A small loss to the scientific community.

But he came from Yarmouth Village.

So?

The deceased, O'Neil.

He came from Yarmouth Village.

My God, a coincidence.

But of what consequence?

O'Neil suffered a skull fracture.

Massive.

With a width and depth so appalling, he could not conceivably have survived it.

So what's the connection?

My preoccupation.

My obsession, Dr. Amys, has been titillated.

And I'd like to go to Yarmouth Village to see if there's a connection.

Dr. Benjamin Ramsey is a man on a mission.

Said mission involving a declaration of war on an enemy that has never been defeated.

The enemy is death.

And Dr. Ramsey will soon discover that trying to

overcome it may not be the most prudent of courses.

Especially when the battle is waged in the Twilight Zone.

Whoa!

Don't meet with your approval.

Don't?

Well, sir, the sheets is clean, the food's passable, and the rates are within reason.

And, uh, if you're a mind to bring a lady up to the second floor...

The alternative is to take a train out.

And that'll be tomorrow.

There's two of them.

Do you know a man named Wheaton?

Jeremy Wheaton.

Ran a little apothecary shop here.

Retired.

What do you want with him?

Half an hour of his time.

Where can I find him?

About three miles out.

Called Shadow Island.

And people around here would rather go around the horn than over there.

But I can lend you a boat in the morning, see that you get there.

You're omniscient, Mr. Perkins.

And do I tip my hat at that?

Or tell my horses to lay a load on you?

It's a compliment.

It means you're all things to all men.

I'll have that boat as early as possible.

You got it.

Omniscient as hell, ain't I?

Without a doubt, Mr. Perkins.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha.

Good evening.

I'd like a room.

Closed.

Dr. Ramsey.

Medical doctor.

Medical doctor.

Is that your luggage?

It is.

All of it.

Thirteen steamer trunks are arriving on an Egyptian galley in the morning.

Is that a joke?

An attempt.

Room seven.

Top of the stairs, lavatories at the other end of the corridor.

That will be $3 in advance.

I think I'll have a drink before I turn in.

Maureen.

What'll it be, sir?

Whiskey in a tumbler.

You come in on the train?

In lonely splendor.

I was the only man to get off here.

You've seen the village.

Why would anyone want to get off here?

Not for your whiskey, my dear.

That's for damn sure.

Maureen, remember I'm leaving for Brewster early in the morning.

Tell me, does a Jeremy Wheaton ever come in here?

In here?

Hardly.

Wheaton lives on the island.

So I've heard.

What does he do there?

Why, I guess not very much.

He's a cripple.

Had a terrible accident.

Stays out there pretty much by himself.

There's a niece that looks after him.

She comes over every now and then shopping.

What about a William O'Neil?

There's plenty of O'Neils around here.

Well, this is a dead O'Neil.

I performed surgery on him last week in Boston.

Plenty of dead O'Neils as well.

Fact is, we don't truck much with people from the island.

They ain't our sort, including Wheaton.

I see.

Well, good night, Maureen.

Will you be needing your bed turned down, sir?

That won't be necessary.

Will there be anything else then, sir?

I think not.

Well, if you change your mind.

You'll be the first to know.

You know the board? - No.

Come here. - Hush your line.

Keep on there.

That's good, that's good.

OK, bring it up.

Don't expect I'll be long.

Well, if you are, don't expect me to be here.

This place has a bad smell to it and a worse feeling.

And it's a fair swim back to the mainland.

Aye, sir.

One more there.

All right, sir.

That's good.

Come on.

Watch it.

Quickly, quickly.

Get it, Cole.

Hurry.

Ready.

Push it.

Well, hold on.

This man is dead.

Too late.

Take it out!

If you're a minister, mister, give him the blessing and get the hell out.

Where might I find Jeremy Wheaton?

Mr. Wheaton doesn't see too many people.

He's not feeling too well.

I didn't ask you his social habits or his condition.

I just want to know where I can find him.

The big house at the end of the road there.

He came in that boat over there.

This fellow with the cap brought him.

Have you ever seen that boat?

Who is it?

Here.

Give me a hand.

Give it. I'll help you.

My name is Dr. Ben Ramsey.

I've come to speak with Jeremy Wheaton.

My uncle is napping at the moment, Doctor.

Perhaps you'd like to tell me the nature of your business?

And who are you?

I'm Mr. Wheaton's niece.

My name is Susan. I'm his ward.

You live here?

That surprises you?

Well, it's a little big, a little old, a little isolated.

I like space.

I respect age, and I'm not particularly social.

Sociability is not one of the major character traits of this island.

Then why stay?

I'm perverse, Miss Wheaton.

And since I don't have much time, suppose you introduce me to your uncle.

I'd sooner introduce a mouse to a cobra.

Then I'll assume the responsibility myself.

Dr. Ramsey.

I'd better tell him that he has a visitor.

You'll find him the least sociable of anyone you've met so far.

There's someone here to see you.

God be with you.

Mr. Wheaton?

I'm Dr. Benjamin Ramsey from Boston.

From right there will do.

I'll be able to hear you.

Deathless doesn't happen to be one of my afflictions.

Nor is leprosy one of mine.

Would this be?

Sufficiently antiseptic for you, Mr. Reed.

A proper buffer against germs, but a damned easy range for a derringer or a dagger.

Do I look like an assassin?

Why are you here?

I happen to be a surgeon.

Oh, is that supposed to reassure me, Dr. Ramsey?

Let me tell you something.

I'm not unfamiliar with surgeons.

Observe the handiwork of one of your colleagues.

What a slicing similarity there is between your

illustrious surgeon and the ordinary butcher.

And the blood on his apron is from chickens and veal cutlets,

while you gentle healers deal in arms and legs.

I dare say you've chopped off a leg or two in your illustrious career.

Sadism happens to be a prerequisite of surgery, Mr. Wheaton.

I'm surprised you didn't know that.

I'm currently writing a textbook called Maming for Pleasure.

Oh, get on with it.

There must be some point to this intrusion.

A patient of mine.

William O'Neil.

I know him.

You knew him?

He died in my operating table.

The Lord give us, and the surgeons taketh away.

So?

He had an inflamed appendix, peritonitis.

He came to me far too late.

The point of the intrusion, Mr. Wheaton,

is that his man suffered a skull fracture some years before.

A scar on the back of his head attested to it, and it

It had never been treated.

The point, sir, the point.

No one could survive that kind of skull fracture.

I thought, since you knew O'Neill,

you could inform me as to the nature of the injury.

When it occurred and how.

Short of that, I'd be at least doing some service to the deceased

since no one claimed his body by informing someone of his death.

Ah, a charming courtesy, also pointless.

You comfort the dying doctor.

You don't run errands for them.

Is there something else?

I wanted to find a connection, Mr. Wheaton,

any connection between you and the deceased.

I was hoping you'd give me one.

All I can give you are the directions to Boston.

You go back to the mainland.

And then you turn south along the coast.

Dr. Ramsay?

You won't tell me?

What?

What can I tell you?

You deliver up an uninvited autopsy on a town drunk named O'Neil with

a skull scar and you expect me to produce a medical file and he will...

to give you the tenuous connection, Dr. Anthony.

I ran an apothecary shop in Yarmouth Village,

and several times when Mr. O'Neil was

falling down, dead, drunk,

I gave his family bandages to wrap up the cuts and the bruises.

And there you have the connection.

Now, with the advent of Pumice to O'Neil's death, I'm

relieved of further acts of charity by rigor mortis.

Good day to you, doctor.

Mr. Wheaton, I took the liberty of making some inquiries about you.

You closed that apothecary shop, I understand,

some ten years ago after a railroad accident.

But during that time and before, you did considerable

experimentation in the field of tissue regeneration.

I did a lot of research on that phase of your activities.

My God, how inquisitive men waste their perishing time.

All this comes to you by way of research, Dr. Tremere.

Available to you from any gossip in the village street,

much as he'd give you direction to the local cat house.

Yes, I gave up the apothecary shop, and yes, I lost both my legs.

And yes...

I experimented with tissues and cells and the chemistry of both, and yes!

My dear doctor, this interview is at an end.

Please go out the same door that you came in.

I don't know what I expected to find here,

Mr. Whedon, but I thought there would be something.

A clue, perhaps, as to why the people of Yarmouth Village hate this island?

The people of Yarmouth Village are

a breed of dreamless,

ignorant peasantry who go from cradle to grave smelling

of fish, leaving behind a legacy of superstitious

garbage greedily stored up during a lifetime of boredom.

I see you have a weakness for fantasy.

Dr. Ramsay, black magic, witchcraft, poltergeism.

If any of this kind of trash titillates you, you'll

get your craw full of it in Yarmouth Village.

I'm sorry, Dr. Ramsey.

I didn't know you were leaving.

I'm not leaving.

Not now.

Black magic, Mr. Wheaton, does not titillate me.

But down in your parlor, sir, I have just observed a dead man walking.

Now, I want to hear from you why he's here, why he's alive and out of bandages.

What was it you dispensed in that apothecary shop?

Perkins.

Oh, my God.

Dr. Ramsey?

Simpson is the name?

Acting magistrate of the village?

Well, acting magistrate Simpson, let me buy you a drink.

I'm on duty, sir.

I've just had occasion to witness the body of

the lately deceased Ezekiel Perkins, a man I understand is known to you?

Don't run around the barn with me, acting magistrate Simpson.

Just say what it is you have in your mind.

Well, sir, we only have your say in the matter.

You have a body across the street with his skull

caved in and a gallon of water inside his lungs.

The results, sir? Yes, the results we have.

But as to a witness, we are sadly enough devoid of a witness.

So I must assume, in the interest of closing this case,

that his assailant or assailants are unknown to us.

Would that satisfy you?

Does it satisfy you?

What else can we do?

We are a small village, as you can see.

We have no regular police force, no prosecuting officers.

We haven't the means to pursue this case.

Mr. Magistrate, all that is required is one

semi-buoyant rowboat to take you over to that island and start investigating.

Dr. Ramsey, you are a stranger here.

So it follows that you are quite unaware of the local custom.

Certain superstitions, you might call them.

We have found it to be of benefit to ignore the doings on that island.

In point of fact, it is out of our jurisdiction anyway.

So with no offense to you, Doctor,

may I suggest that you too stay clear of that place?

How in the name of God can you sit here on your benighted behind when things are

going on on that island, things to do with life and death, and just ignore it?

They can kill and they can resurrect.

I have to know why and how.

What do you intend to do, Doctor?

I ask you that question in my official capacity.

Your official capacity, Mr. Magistrate, is

obviously to stick your fat head in the sand.

As to what I intend to do, since it will be without

your help, it will also be without your knowledge.

I'm going to take a walk, Mr. Flanagan.

If I'm not back by tomorrow morning,

You may rent out my room and sell my effects.

Miss Wheaton.

You have infinite faith in your fellow man, Miss Wheaton.

Or a death wish, one or the other.

I was on my way to the inn to find you.

I saved you the trip.

You also pick odd times for nighttime strolling.

And you for sailing.

What brings you here, Miss Wheaton?

My uncle is sick.

He's become quite ill.

He needs medical attention.

Well, so did I earlier today.

And the man who took me to the island, Ezekiel Perkins,

is now beyond medical attention.

That wasn't our doing.

Some things can be explained, Dr. Ramsey.

A whole hell of a lot of things have to be explained, Miss Wheaton.

Now, what is it you want?

Let me take you over to the island.

Examine my uncle.

Tell me if...

If there's any hope.

There is always hope.

There rarely is.

In my experience.

In my experience, hope may be the only eternal thing on the face of the earth.

You have a gentle touch, Doctor.

In very special cases.

In very special cases, I can respond to it.

Susan.

So you came.

My heart?

Very late.

Shall I be alive in the morning?

If I were a betting man, Mr Wheaton, I would say the

odds were two to one in favor of you eating breakfast.

About even for lunch.

And very much against you

for dinner.

It was a sizable heart seizure.

I judge not the first.

Take this.

Fifth, sixth, perhaps seventh.

Do doctors read Shakespeare?

Some do.

I have.

I am reminded of what Julius Caesar said about death.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me

most strange that men should fear seeing

a death.

A necessary end will come when it will come.

However, it is one thing, my dear young doctor, to accept death.

It's quite another to beckon to it, to invite it in.

You have to give battle to it.

You, I take it, have?

Yes.

Have you?

Ever heard of an Egyptian plant called Cairo bush?

The ancient pharaohs used its berries.

Yes.

As part of a poultice.

It had incredible healing properties.

Accidentally, mind you, accidentally, I discovered

when you mixed an extract of the berries with laudanum

and some other

ingredients, liquefied and administered through

a syringe directly into the heart cavity.

It re-energized the heart and stopped flesh decay.

It brought back life.

If you walk around here, Doctor, you'll notice that there are no

new gravestones, no recent tombstones,

none at all.

No need for graves, Doctor, where they...

In a place where the dead walk,

How many?

Three quarters of all the people on this island.

200, 300.

All living, breathing, walking, talking.

Because,

like you, Dr. Ramsey...

Jeremy Wheaton.

Was a most inquisitive man.

Are you telling me that you inject a hypodermic into a corpse?

If the injection could be administered within 15 minutes of death,

I could restore life!

Oh, I know that look, Doctor.

I used to see it in the mirror, the dream, the...

The elusive dream.

Maybe just to relieve the nightmares.

There was a place.

Farmer Miller's cornfield.

That's a bucolic euphemism to cover a slaughterhouse.

There was a battle there.

Long rows of ripe corn, and behind them long rows of men.

The rifle and artillery were like a scythe running through those lines.

And afterwards, in the rain,

The wounded lying there.

Four, five, six hundred men.

It was a cry like... like the wind.

A moaning, wailing cry.

And when the rain washed the mud from their faces, they weren't soldiers.

They had a downy...

The boy is playing a terrible game.

All through the night.

I went up and down that line.

Feeling gaping wounds.

Cutting off arms and legs.

Watching them die.

God, how they died.

God, how they died.

We make it easy for men to die, Mr. Wheaton.

Are you telling me you found a way to make it easier to live?

That's the vision, Dr. Ramsay, the shining vision.

A new race of beautiful mortals.

But I give you now, Doctor, the irony of it all.

The dream is flawed.

The chemical wears off.

It has to be reintroduced sometimes every six months,

sometimes every month, sometimes every few days.

It varies with the person.

I was never able to understand what caused the specific variables.

And I was also unable to understand, Doctor, the most complex thing of all.

Human nature.

The instinct of man to clutch, claw, rip and tear and kill.

To stay out of the grave.

If once he's been given to reprieve from it.

The evolution of man's desires, Doctor.

First...

just to live, then to live long, and then desperation to live forever.

Translated into acts of murder, dozens of them.

Your friend, Perkins, and all the others.

The dream doesn't have to die with you, Mr. Whedon.

I could experiment further.

I could discover what makes the chemical lose its potency.

No, no, don't.

No, no.

They have no ears for that, Doctor.

Or brains.

Or hearts.

What kind of people are they?

They're looking at what kind of people they are.

I didn't stumble on those railroad tracks, doctor.

I wasn't cut in half because of an unfortunate accident.

I was turned into a torso so that the legs could not carry the mind out of the area.

And that mind, doctor, as you perceive, is the chemical equation.

Continual survival.

And because of it, they allowed me to stay alive.

They're not people, Doctor.

They're corpses.

I've been injecting them with water for the last month and a half.

The beautiful people will shortly turn into what they should be.

It's imperative.

Imperative, my dear doctor, that you're not on the island when they realize it.

The psychology of the mob, the beastiality of the jungle animal.

And there you have Shadow Island from this moment on.

We'll talk again when I awake, if I awake.

It seems a matter of some indifference to me at the moment.

The odd thing, Doctor,

the really incomprehensible thing,

the years I spent with the remaining half of me in

the wheelchair, believing that

that was an acceptable alternative to

to the casket.

It seems to me

most

strange

that men should fear seeing that death,

a necessary end, will come

when it will come.

And there's a strange,

strange

sweetness to it.

He's dying, isn't he?

But he's asleep now.

He told you everything?

I presume everything.

Your uncle didn't keep any diary, journal notes of any kind.

He wouldn't have dared.

His only guarantee of survival was that he alone knew the secret.

What's your guarantee of survival?

Best we worry about yours.

My uncle probably told you we've been using water instead of the solution.

What about yesterday morning?

I saw the man in this room.

We used what was left of the original formula.

We had to.

If he hadn't been brought back, the others would know.

Who will believe me, Miss Wheaton?

Will anyone?

Is it important?

I'll tell you what's important.

The whole of mankind died tonight in a bedroom.

On a stinking little island that should have been the center of the universe.

If the world knew what was being buried here,

there would be a billion mourners,

and they would weep up a tidalwave.

What about you, Susan?

What are you going to do?

You can't stay here.

Susan, your uncle and three-quarters of

this island would be dead by tomorrow night.

Do you recognize me?

You're Mr. Bainbridge.

My sister didn't recognize me.

Bounded the door on me, screamed and locked me out.

Something's happening here.

I have to see Whedon.

Mr. Whedon is too ill to see anyone.

Then you must give me the injection.

I can't, Mr. Bainbridge.

There's nothing left.

Make some more.

Have Whedon make some more.

Mr. Wheaton's dying.

Nobody dies.

Nobody dies!

Nobody dies!

Nobody dies!

Wheaton.

You're feeling unwell, Mr. Bainbridge?

Look at me.

Please, look at me.

I see you, Mr. Bainrbidge.

I see you.

Help me.

Please, help me.

Old friend, you died 11 years ago.

That's an extensive period of time to settle your affairs.

I don't want to die.

Do you understand?

I don't want to die.

Look in the mirror, you old fool.

You've died!

Ah!

Susan.

My dear Susan.

I wasn't wrong, was I?

All I cared about was staying alive.

Not living.

All I leave behind is a cemetery.

What a miserable legacy for you.

An old house

on a dead

island.

He's gone.

Open the window!

We gotta leave now!

You, find Wheaton.

And you, you, find the girl.

He's dead.

Oh, my God.

Sarah!

Wait.

He's dead, Susan.

Come.

Ramsey, look out!

Hurry!

Ramsey!

No!

No!

You're going to be just fine, Doctor.

Everything is all right.

We found you on the beach.

We all assumed that you had been to the... Island.

Where's the girl?

Susan Wheaton.

Is that the girl?

Susan.

Dear Dr. Ramsay.

As you probably know by now,

I was one of them.

At age eight, I died of scarlet fever.

And at age 23, I shall have died again, along with all the others.

Dear,

Doctor Ramsay,

I think that God meant that men should die when they should die.

To live beyond death is like occupying someone else's room.

You do so without comfort and without serenity.

Have a good life, Doctor.

A long life, and one full of love.

And when death comes,

think of it as going to sleep after a long and trying day.

This is how I accept it.

Because it's been a long and trying day.

Susan.

Doctor?

Dr. Ramsey?

I was wondering if you'll be having dinner with us tonight?

Dinner?

Of course.

Dinner.

Then breakfast, and then lunch, and then

dinner again, and then a lifetime of all three.

In between, I'll save lives like I've always done, my dear Maureen.

Until such time as I have to exchange this surgeon's smock for a shroud.

Say some future scholar or some hopeful idiot like myself

should come along and ask you what went on on Shadow Island.

What would you tell them?

Tell them?

Why, what's to tell, Doctor?

Nothing went on that I know of.

Nothing at all.

You're quite right.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Quotation from the Bible, the book of Ecclesiastes.

To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die.

To which Dr. Ramsey might add: "And death will come despite the misguided

efforts of men to delay or prevent it, even in the Twilight Zone."

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