From the Land of Fear

by Harlan Ellison

  18 EXT. STREET—FULL SHOT—POLICE CAR—QARLO’S POV

  The beam hits the car, and in a sizzling flash of light, the car puffs out of existence.

  19 CLOSE SHOT—QARLO ON THE CORNER

  With a wide-eyed panic of his own, based in confusion at his surroundings, as well as what has happened, Qarlo stands in trembling anxiety. (Once again, the sounds about him are muffled—including the pneumatic drill which continues on from this point.)

  20 FULL SHOT—THE CORNER—QARLO

  A newspaper truck drives quickly past the corner, and the man flings a heavy bundle of newspapers toward the newsstand. The bundle strikes Qarlo in the back, throwing him forward and down. As he falls, his helmet is knocked off.

  21 CLOSEUP—QARLO (WHERE HE HAS FALLEN)

  We see he has a small audio receiver in one ear. But now, with his helmet gone, the sounds all around him, and particularly the pneumatic drill, blasts in together with all the city noises, screaming insanely. The noise should be as high as possible to record.

  As Qarlo’s mouth opens in a soundless scream, he raises to one knee, his hands clapped to his ears to shut out the noise. His face is twisted in pain, and it is obvious the noise is destroying his ability to move. The rifle swings unnoticed on its harness.

  22 MED. SHOT—THE TWO COPS

  As they see Qarlo on one knee, they charge, camera going with them. As they stop in a two shot, one cop brings his billy down in the direction of Qarlo, but out of the frame. We hear the impact and a groan.

  QUICK CUT:

  23 FROM COP’S ANGLE

  The soldier crumples to the sidewalk, unconscious. Camera pulls back as the people move in to look at the strange man unconscious on the sidewalk. The cop bends to slip cuffs on the soldier.

  24 HIGH SHOT—QARLO

  90° ANGLE DOWN on Qarlo’s face. Camera comes down for extreme closeup of his unconscious face, as dimly, from the audio receiver in his ear we continue to hear the whispering metallic command, over and over:

  HELMET VOICE (FILTER) (monotonous) Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!…

  CAMERA HOLDS on Qarlo’s face, the mental command as we

  DISSOLVE:

  25 EXT. COUNTRYSIDE—THE HILL—CLOSE SHOT—THE ENEMY—NIGHT

  Occasional lightning and thunder. Camera pulls back to reveal he is bathed in a coruscating glow of eerie light. Only half of him is visible. As though a cheese-cutter had neatly sliced him off at the waist, emptiness below and around him. He has been pulled only halfway through the time-warp. He clutches his weapon and struggles futilely with the invisible trap that has closed around him, locking him in stasis between the worlds.

  NARRATOR (V.O.): But time is fluid. The waters of forever close—and passage may not be completed. The present and the future are for a moment united. And the Enemy half-today, half-tomorrow, is locked between…

  During narration the Enemy flails around helplessly. For a moment he is silent, and in that silence the insistent, mechanical voice is heard in his helmet.

  HELMET VOICE (FILTER): Attack! Attack! Attack! Attack!

  Then, in insane fury at his helplessness, the Enemy begins to bellow almost like a rabid animal; a deep-toned, frightening shrieking torn form inside. Abruptly, there is a new sound—‘beep’ ‘beep’ ‘beep’—that causes him to look down at small electrical impulse machine strapped to his wrist. It is blinking and making the beeps. As he stares at it, o.s. we hear the wail of a police siren that seems to blend in with the sound of the beeps.

  26 EXT. COUNTRYSIDE—LONG SHOT—HIGHWAY AND HILL—NIGHT

  Two headlight beams scythe out of the darkness. As the car appears coming down highway toward camera.

  27 INT. CAR BACK SEAT—CLOSE SHOT—NIGHT

  Three men are seated in back. In the center is Qarlo who is securely bound and trussed up with heavy cloth strap around his neck. He is flanked on either side by two husky uniformed policemen. One of them has Qarlo’s rifle in his lap. Qarlo starts to struggle violently attempting to get his rifle. The other men put more tension on his bonds to hold him down.

  28 EXT. THE HILL—CLOSE SHOT—THE ENEMY

  desperately trying to free himself and bring his rifle to bear as we hear the insistent, mechanical voice in his helmet. HELMET VOICE (FILTER): Attack! Attack! Attack! Attack!

  29 EXT. HIGHWAY—LONG SHOT—THE CAR

  as it goes down the highway and disappears into the blackness the beep beep fading with it.

  DISSOLVE:

  30 EXT. IRON GATE LEADING TO PRISON-TYPE ENCLOSED YARD—DAY

  On the gate we can see the legend:

  G. I. D. C.

  PSYCHIATRIC SECURITY SECTION AUTHORIZED GOV’T PERSONNEL ONLY

  A uniformed guard stands at the gate. Through the gates we can see the rear entrance, or ambulance landing of a building.

  Standing in front of the gate is Tanner, a government agent. He is nervously waiting for someone.

  31 ANOTHER ANGLE

  A car drives up and stops a short distance from the gate. Kagan alights and approaches Tanner. Kagan is a short, intense man who looks as though he’s been sleeping in his clothes. But there is a silent power in his features, a perceptivity and even a kindness. Tanner is the antithesis: tall, dapper, restrained, in every sense of the word “cool”. Kagan extends his hand.

  KAGAN: Mr. Tanner?

  Tanner acknowledges.

  KAGAN (continuing): I’m Tom Kagan, the philologist. I was sent here by the local office of the Bureau.

  TANNER (confused): Philologist?

  KAGAN (smiles tolerantly): Right. Language expert. I read your report. The man seems to be speaking some sort of strange dialect. They decided I was the one to unravel it.

  Tanner shakes his head in shocked annoyance.

  TANNER: You’ve got to be kidding. (beat) Right? You’re putting me on.

  KAGAN: What’s that supposed to mean?

  TANNER: I’ll tell you what that’s supposed to mean, friend. Any minute now something will be arriving that is guaranteed to stand your hair on end. It took six beefy men to get him into the two strait jackets he’s wearing…and they send down a…a philologist!

  KAGAN (lightly): I know a little karate…

  TANNER (not amused): Oh, say, Kagan, you are a real knee-slapper.

  They are interrupted by the sound of an arriving ambulance. As Kagan and Tanner move aside, the ambulance pulls to a stop in front of the gate. The guard opens the gate, the ambulance drives through followed by Kagan and Tanner on foot.

  32 EXT. AMBULANCE LANDING

  Ambulance pulls in and stops. The driver goes to the back and opens the doors. Two MP’s wearing white helmets and armbands, pistol belts supporting unsnapped holsters, jump out.

  As Kagan and Tanner enter and look on, the MP’s roll out a stretcher with the mummy-wrapped-in-two-strait-jackets. (Qarlo strapped to the stretcher.) He is shaking with restrained fury, his teeth bared. Kagan stares dumbly as the stretcher rolls away, then turns to Tanner, realizing now what Tanner meant.

  TANNER (concerned, yet amused): I guess I didn’t make my report strong enough.

  KAGAN (awed): No…I…don’t think…you…did.

  DISSOLVE:

  33 INT. OBSERVATION CHAMBER—ESTABLISHING—NIGHT

  CAMERA LOOKING STRAIGHT DOWN through a square glass window set in the floor of the observation room. We are looking down from a high ceiling into a padded cell. Below us, Qarlo paces back and forth like a caged animal. There is the sound of a high whining noise as a freight elevator starts.

  Qarlo claps both hands to his head, falls against a wall, thrashes about. He comes off the wall, plunges across the room, slamming his fists against the unfeeling wall-pads. Camera pulls back to:

  34 ANOTHER SHOT—OBSERVATION CHAMBER

  It is almost totally dark, with only the illuminated square of the one-way observation window in the floor throwing a radiance up from below, casting light on the faces of Kagan and Tanner, staring down at the soldier. Their faces ha
ve an eerie underlit effect and they don’t look at each other as they talk softly, but continue to stare down at what we know is the padded cell and Qarlo.

  KAGAN: What was that noise?

  TANNER: Freight elevator.

  KAGAN: Have them shut it off.

  TANNER: What for?

  KAGAN: Sharp sounds drive him wild. Apparently his hearing is on a more sensitive threshold than ours. That helmet you showed me—there were sound baffles built in, to deaden outside noise.

  TANNER: So we’ll give him back the helmet.

  KAGAN: I wouldn’t, if I were you.

  TANNER: What harm can it do?

  KAGAN: That’s the point. I don’t know.

  TANNER: I think you’re scared, Kagan.

  KAGAN: That’s the name of the game.

  TANNER: So that calm exterior is just a pose. I’m glad to know there’s somebody else in this boat with me.

  KAGAN: Mmm. Up the creek, minus paddles.

  TANNER (offering): Want a piece of gum?

  Kagan nods, takes it, unwraps it, and folding it, begins to chew it.

  KAGAN: Those scars…radiation burns, I’d say. But I can’t be certain, it’s outside my field.

  TANNER (agreeing): Radiation all right. Johns Hopkins had him for five days. But it’s outside their field, too. Whatever caused those burns we haven’t seen anything like it around here.

  KAGAN: He’s shouting something! Hit that switch!

  Tanner reaches over, flicks a switch on the wall. From a grille beside the switch comes the hollow sound of Qarlo yelling. (Note: the following is written phonetically for the benefit of the players.)

  QARLO’S VOICE (O.S.) (FILTER): M’nemzz Kwahr-loe Klo-breg-knee, pryte, sihz-fi-wun-oh-too-too-nyne, dammm-eeoooo!

  KAGAN: Cut it.

  Tanner hits the switch, the voice stops.

  KAGAN (continuing): Same speech over and over. It’s all he ever says.

  TANNER: So what’s it mean? What language is it?

  KAGAN: I’m warning you, Tanner, ask a nitwit question, I’m going to give you a nitwit answer.

  TANNER: Get smart with me, boy, and I take back your choon gum.

  KAGAN: I’m not clowning, Tanner, I hear that line of gibberish in my sleep. There’s something familiar about it, but I can’t place the dialect.

  TANNER: Have you been able to make anything from the tapes?

  KAGAN (shakes head): Random sounds mostly. Anger, frenzy, a few scattered word-groups I can’t decipher. Taking tapes of his mumblings locked in a padded cell aren’t going to help me. I’ve got to go down in there with him.

  TANNER (shocked): Oh, now wait just a second, friend. Have you lost your mind? That isn’t some ordinary psycho down there…he’s the most dangerous piece of equipment I’ve ever seen. He’ll take you and tear along the dotted line!

  35 CLOSEUP—KAGAN AND TANNER

  As Kagan looks across at Tanner for the first time.

  KAGAN (seriously): Tanner, you’re not a scientist. That man down there is something we’ve never seen before. He’s from somewhere or somewhen outside our knowledge. He’s a walking challenge.

  TANNER: He’s a walking bomb, you mean!

  KAGAN: Six of one, half a dozen of another.

  TANNER: It’s entirely possible we’ve put the wrong man in that padded cll.

  KAGAN: Do I get the permission?

  TANNER: Not a chance.

  KAGAN: Can I try to persuade you? Logically?

  TANNER: You can try till you grow webbed feet, Kagan. You’ll never convince me.

  CAMERA HOLDS a long beat as Tanner sits smugly staring at the vaguely smiling little Kagan.

  CUT TO:

  36 CLOSEUP ON DOOR TO PADDED CELL

  as the latch is thrown, and a guard opens the cell. Camera pulls back to show Tanner and a guard with drawn pistol, standing behind Kagan as the door opens and camera shoots through open door to the int. padded cell with Qarlo tensed against the far wall, framed by the doorway, ready to spring. Kagan moves into the room, stops, stares at Qarlo.

  37 INT. PADDED CELL—TWO SHOT—KAGAN AND QARLO

  as they face each other. Behind Kagan, through the open door, we see the Guard leveling his pistol. Tanner tensed. The man from the present and the man from the future stare at each other across an abyss of time and each other’s natures. Qarlo looks as though he might leap at any moment. Then, slowly, Kagan reaches for a pack of cigarettes. Qarlo tenses. Kagan pulls out a cigarette, puts one in his mouth. Qarlo’s eyes widen. He bites his lip. He recognizes tobacco! Kagan sees the recognition, offers the pack, shaking the cigarettes up for Qarlo to see. For a long beat Qarlo stares at him, then cautiously reaches out to the full length of his arm.

  38 INTERCUT—THEIR HANDS

  across the open space between the offered pack and the hard, brutal-looking reaching hand of the soldier. There is long hesitation, then the hand grabs the pack!

  SHARP CUT TO:

  39 ANOTHER ANGLE—THE SCENE

  as Qarlo jumps back, the pack in his hand. Kagan watches as the soldier pulls a cigarette from the pack deftly. He tries to strike it on the side of the pack as we saw him do in the first scene. It crumbles into paper and bits. He looks surprised, then angry. He bares his teeth, snarling at Kagan for tormenting him with a smoke. Kagan dimly realizes what is going on. He pulls out a lighter, lights his own cigarette, draws deeply, exhales smoke. Qarlo watches. Kagan moves toward him with the flickering flame. Qarlo tenses. Kagan stops, extending the flame. Qarlo hesitantly moves forward, eyes always on Kagan. He puts another cigarette in his mouth and, still watching, gets a light. Then he moves smoothly back to the wall, drawing deeply.

  40 MED. SHOT—ON KAGAN

  as he makes his next move. He walks slowly to the side wall and sits down on the padded floor. He moves very slowly, very studiedly, so as not to alarm the soldier. Kagan smokes for a moment, studying Qarlo. Then he makes a fist, the thumb pointing back at himself. He taps himself lightly on the chest with the thumb-tip. He names himself.

  KAGAN: Kagan. Kagan.

  Qarlo stares at him. Kagan points to the soldier, makes a helpless hands-open gesture, then points to himself again.

  KAGAN (continuing): Kagan? Hmmm? Kagan?

  Qarlo stares. He understands. We know, by his expression, that he understands. But he isn’t giving an inch. This is not—we should realize at this point—a dumb brute, but a thinking entity. A man with a mind. But what the nature of that locked mind may be, we do not know. Kagan tries again.

  KAGAN (taps himself): Kagan. Come on, man, confound it, Kaye-gannn! Kagan!

  He points to Qarlo, who smirks softly. Then the soldier speaks. It is all run together, and totally unintelligible. But what he says is:

  QARLO: M’nemzz Kwahr-loe Klo-breg-knee, pryte, sihz-fyfe-wun-oh-too-too-nyne…

  CAMERA HOLDS A BEAT on Qarlo, then pans rapidly to Kagan, who smiles, draws on his cigarette, and settles back against the wall in a relaxed position. He has broken through.

  KAGAN (softly, prayerlike): You can say that again, brother…

  41 INT. OBSERVATION ROOM—DAY

  The room is lit now, and a portable protective railing surrounds the observation window in the floor. Kagan, Tanner and a secretary taking notes on a courtroom stenographic transcriber.

  She sits as Kagan paces, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, ashes falling on his jacket-front. Tanner sits at the other side, listening, as Kagan dictates to the girl.

  KAGAN (dictating): Brown hair, clipped so short you can see the scalp. Brown…no, black eyes. Six feet, three inches. Radiation scars, right cheek. Smaller scars, above the eyes. Three parallel scars, left temple, running down cheek almost to chin; very faint, not like right cheek burns. (beat) Something else. It may mean nothing, but his forehead seems higher than normal, with a peculiar bulging, as though he’d been smacked with something hard, and the forehead’s swelling. (beat) That’s all, Karen.

  The girl stops typing, gathers her little machi
ne, and leaves quickly. Kagan has continued pacing, and Tanner has sat through the entire scene without a word. It is apparent he is trying to be patient, though bugged.

  TANNER: Well?

  KAGAN: Well what?

  TANNER: Seven days and you ask me “well what?”

  KAGAN (smiles): He’s a soldier.

  TANNER (throws up his hands): Any other late bulletins? I spent three years in the Rangers, Kagan, I know a soldier when I see one.

  KAGAN: No, I mean he’s really a soldier. There’s but nothing about him not a soldier. The ultimate, perfect infantryman. I don’t think he knows anything else.

  TANNER: And what makes you think that?

  KAGAN: That gibberish he’s been spouting.

  TANNER: Which is…?

  KAGAN (lightly): English.

  TANNER (annoyed): English? Come on, Kagan, I’m not the most fluent speaker in the world, but I know English when I hear it. The guy is obviously a foreigner of some kind.

  KAGAN: Wrong word. Not foreigner. Try alien.

  TANNER (incredulously): Alien? From another planet?

  KAGAN (shakes head): No, from this planet.

  TANNER: The Department wants facts, Kagan, not wild conjectures. Who is he, and what country is he from?

  KAGAN: I’m not sure yet.

  TANNER: Not sure? How the devil long does it take, man?

  KAGAN: It takes time. Lots of time. I have to break down his speech syllable by syllable. It seems to be a corrupted form of American English, degenerated the way Canterbury English became the Cockney dialect.

  TANNER: Lovely, but what do I tell them upstairs?

  Kagan spins on him, furiously; he is tired and involved.

  KAGAN: Tell them not to press me! Tell them I’m just starting to break through. Tell them he has to trust me implicitly. One slip and it may lose us the game!

  Tanner, snapped back by this suddent irrational tirade, realizes Kagan has been pushing himself to the edge. Kagan slumps down into the chair. Tanner uses a softer tone.

  TANNER: Hey…take it easy, Tom…

  KAGAN (wearily): I’m just a little bushed, is all. It’s like holding onto fog. One moment I think I’ve got it, and the next it’s gone. He’s by no means stupid…that’s a strange, peculiar item we’ve got down there, but not a stupid one.