Tired of the everyday grind? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you Escape. Escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today. For a half hour of high adventure. You are in a lighthouse off the steaming coast of French Guiana. While around you, frightful in its fury, a nightmare of terror and violence is closing in on you. A nightmare from which there is no escape. Tonight by popular request, we repeat one of the most terrifying stories ever presented on Escape. Listen now as we bring you Three Skeleton Key by Georges Tudouz. Picture this place. A gray tapering cylinder welded by iron rods and concrete to the key. Off a bare black rock, 150 feet long, maybe 40 wide. That's at low tide. At high tide, just the light rising 110 feet straight up out of the ocean. And all about it, the churning water. Gray green, scum dappled, warm as soup, and swarming with gigantic bat-like devil fish, great violet schools of the Portuguese Man O' War, and yes, sharks. The big ones. The 15 footers. And as if that wasn't enough, there was a hot, dank, rotten smelling wind that came at us day and night off the jungle swamps of the mainland. A wind that smelled like death. Set in the base of the light was a watertight bronze door, and in you went. And up. Yes, up and up, and round and round past the tanks of oil and the coils of rope, the cases of wicks, racks of lanterns, sacks of spuds and cartons and cans, and up and up and up, round and round. Over the light store room was the food store room, and then over the food store room was the bunk room where the three of us slept. And over the bunk room was the living and cooking room. And over the living and cooking room was the light. She was a beauty, balanced like a ballerina on the glistening steel axle of her rotary mechanism. And at night you'd lie there on the stone deck of the gallery with her revolving smoothly and quietly over your head, easing her bright white eye 360 degrees around the horizon. You'd lie there watching to see that the feeders kept working, that everything ran right. And it wouldn't be bad. The other two fellows snoring in their sacks two levels down. You'd smoke your pipe to kill the stink of the wind and it wouldn't be bad. About those other two, Louis and August. What a pair. Louis, he was head man. He was a big fellow from the Basque country. Black beard, little hard black eyes and a pair of arms that, I tell you, those arms were as big around as my legs. Yes, head man he was. And what word he let go was law. A silent fellow. And although I spent my first two weeks trying to strike up a real conversation, the most I could ever get out of him was... John, I took up this profession because I don't like people. They talk too much. It's quiet work, light tending. Let's keep it that way. Understand? You're beginning to be as bad as August. I thought maybe for once they'd sell me out. That was Louis. That when he accused me of becoming like August, I quietened down because August was the talkingest man I've ever met. The talkingest and the ugliest. He was hunchbacked, stood four feet high, had red hair and big blue eyes. It seems he'd been an actor in Paris. I played in over 200 different productions, my dear boy, at the Grand Guignol. Oh, but it was monstrous, horrible, the way we used to scare the audiences. And I, I was hated. Yes, they used to throw things and hiss and bare their teeth at me. But finally, finally it got too bad and I couldn't stand it any longer. I gave up the theatre. My nerves, you understand. Yes, gave it up completely. I really did. I couldn't stand it any longer. It all started one morning at 2.30. I was on watch, lying on the cool stone deck, pulling on my pipe, staring out at the blackness, the phosphorescent comas and the big yellow stars when out of the corner of my eye I noticed something show up for a second, something that light had touched, far off. I waited for her to come around again and when she did, there it was. A three master, a big one, about a half mile off and coming down out of the Nornor West, coming straight for us. You must understand our light was where it was for a very good reason. Submerged reefs surround us and ships kept clear but this one, this sailing vessel was coming straight on. I went over to the gallery door and yelled, Louis, Louis. What is it? Ship headed for the reefs. Coming right up. I had the glasses out now. I couldn't make her name but I could see her quite plainly, all sails set, the foam creaming away under her bow, her beautiful line, the Dutch ship I guessed her but why didn't she turn? Every time it passed our light hit her with a glare of day. Ship, where? Nornor West, light will touch you in a moment. So I can't really see. Look at her, she just keeps coming on. Those square heads. What is it? What is it? Watch Nornor West. No, no. I know. I know what it is. What? The Dutchman, the flying Dutchman. We did a play about her once. Oh, what a performance. You ghastly galleon, hag ridden, ghost driven muster. Shut up, shut up. She's laughing. Yes. A sloppy way to come about. John, she's derelict, that's it. Derelict? You left her for some reason or other but instead of sinking she's gone on, running before every wind. She'll not run long, not with these reefs to break her up. A beautiful ship. Now why would men leave a beautiful ship like that? He didn't ram us although we all expected it but as we waited for the crash she left again caught some odd gust and went about. We watched her the rest of those black hours, healing and rocking, pushed and pulled by every stray wind, every freak current. Watched her until the dawn came, till the sea turned from black to a pearly grey. And then she came again heading for us. We all had our glasses trained on her now. Agus, you can kill the light. Right chief. She doesn't look so good by daylight. Think she'll ground this time? I said you think she'll ground this time? Oh, this is impossible, absolutely impossible. What? Here, take my glasses. They're better than yours. All right. What is it that you're... I had to focus and then my breath froze in my throat. The decks were swarming with a dark brown carpet that looked like a gigantic fungus but undulating. And on the masts and yards the guys and all were hundreds, no thousands, no millions. I don't know, an uncountable number of tremendous rats. You see them? Yes, I see them. Now we know why she's a derelict. Yes, now we know. What are you two doing here? Give me a look. Yes, give him the glasses. Take a good look, chatterbox. Give you something to talk about. They're still heading for us. Yes. But if she's going to turn, she'd better turn soon. Suppose she doesn't. You mean suppose she piles up on the key? Slow tide? Yes, yes it is. Always all the conversation, August, huh? Here, you want the glasses again? You want another look? No, no. She's still coming on. Go away. Go away. Turn, I say. I pray you, turn. She's struck. The rats. Look under water like a carp. They're swimming. Sure they're swimming. Those are ship's rats. But they're swimming for the rocks. The door below it's open. Come on. August, get the windows. Maybe they can climb. Right, Chief, but hurry. Hurry. You see them? No. Oh, yes, I do. Up at the other end of the rocks. Look at them. Millions. They smell us. Here they come. The door. Close the door. I can't. It's stuck. Here, let me. Here. Made it. Oh, that was close. What got in? Look at that. What did he do? Kick him. What a brute. Oh, he was as big as a tomcat. Bigger. Eyes were wild and red. His teeth long, sharp and yellow. He went for a scowling ravenous. When we fought him, we fought that one rat all over the room. It was like fighting a panther. Got it. We'd better get a loft. As we ran up the winding staircase, we passed the tiny windows of the various levels and at every one was a thick, wriggling, screaming curtain of brown fur. I was ahead of Louis and I dreaded each successful level. Suppose they found a way in? Oh, will you look at them? It's a nightmare. Will you look at them? The air of the gallery was thick and flattered with the stink of them. The light was dim, brown, filtered through the crawling mass that swarmed over the glass, all about us. We couldn't see the sky. Nothing. Nothing but them. Their red eyes, their claws, their wriggling, hairy snouts and their teeth. The rats screamed and howled and threw themselves against the glass. They were starving. And we three, we stood in the center of the glass room under our beautiful light and we waited. What can we do? What can we do, Chief? Take it easy, August. Take it easy. I can't. I just can't. It won't do any good to stand here and shake. That's right. Go away. Go away. Do you hear me? Go away, this thing. They won't go away until, until what? Until they've been fed. We will return to escape in just a moment. Academy Award winner Joan Fontaine will be your star in Levering the Dead. We will return to escape in just a moment. You'll enjoy this celebrated story of a ruthless woman who destroys the things she loves. And you'll like Joan Fontaine in this dramatic role. That's Leave Her to Heaven starring Joan Fontaine, tomorrow evening's luck summer theater show on most of these same CBS radio stations. And now back to escape. You can take so much horror and then you get used to it. And they were interesting to watch, you know. They couldn't understand the glass. They could see us and they could rush at us. But that thin invisible barrier held them off. It stopped them. From time to time we caught a glimpse of the rocks below. More wraps down there, swarming brown velvet in the bright tropical sunlight. And then the tide began to rise. If only it would drown some of them. Don't drown, no sir. You can't drown them. They're still climbing. They're all climbing up to the tower. This punch around us is getting thicker. What's the time? 4.06. You got the first watch now. All right. Wake me at 10. I will. Come along, Auguste. It was getting dark. One side of the room was littered, soft filtered red. Sunset through the wraps. All very pretty. I set the wicks, I checked my fuel and then lit the lamp. It caught them. Lit them in their gigantic, wriggling web of pale hairless bellies, twitching red tails, bright eyes. And I started the rotary motor. The light drove them mad. As she swung slowly and smoothly about, she blinded them in the fierce, stabbing bar of light, moving continually about, ever turning, ever touching, ever moving around and around. And they, twitching and stuttering, eyes framing when they were struck by the light, the bright light moving. And behind, on the dark side of the room, so close, so close I dared not turn my back, but you can't help turning your back when you're in a room made of glass. On the dark side of the room you couldn't see them, but only their eyes, and thousands of points of blank red light, fleeting and twinkling like the stars of hell. Louis relieved me at ten, but I didn't get much sleep that night, and when I came up into the gallery early the next morning, there stood our ghosties back to me. He was bowing to the rat, waving his arms, and so helped me making a speech. And this morning, my dear, dear audience, I'm going to play once again that magnificent role which made me the toast of the Parasphere Fests, Velasquez, the evil genius of the medieval underworld. I am he who should guide the dark soul of the Marishal into the Netherpag. He kept turning. I stood staring at him for a sec, but he didn't notice me. The man had gone mad. He kept turning, telling his stories to all the rats, leaving no one out. Albert! Albert! Ah, another one, a late comer. Take a seat on the aisle, dear fool. Stop it! Stop it! He didn't stop. He went on bowing and creeping to the rat, his big blue eyes rolling and winking, his wild red hair waving about him. I grabbed him by the arms and clapped his feet. He looked at me like a child, and then his face pulled up as though he were about to cry. Go below. Go on. Very well, then. Later, my dear audience. Later! Meditation day! Sure, he was crazy. I guess we all were. A few hours later, he came back up and caught Louie and me teasing the rats. Yes! Sounds horrible! It was fun! We'd get right up against the glass and make faces at them. It drove them crazy. They would scratch away, trying to get at our eyes. Our goose joined in, too. Oh, very ingenious, our goose. He learned that if he red-eared himself against the glass, they'd bunch and bundle against his figure, then he'd leap back. Look! My portrait in red! It went on all day like that. They put our goose in bed, and he went to sleep like a baby, smiling. And then it was about midnight. I was very tired, and I was just beginning to fall off to sleep myself when I became conscious of the news sound. I couldn't figure it. At first, I got up, I lit the lamp, went to the window. Even as I looked at it, I saw one of the panes begin to sag. They'd eaten the wood away. Louie, come quick! What is it? They found a way in! I held the glass with my hand. Now they were all going crazy, and assured of the success of this maneuver, were all nibbling away at the wood. Louie ran below and then returned with a large sheet of tin. I hit against the window and hammered it into place. Even as we did so, we felt the heavy bodies cutting against the other side as the window came away. There, another hold. If it doesn't, we're done for. Rats can't eat tin. No, they can't. What was that? I don't know. It came from below. The storeroom window! They're in! They're swarming up the stairs! Drop the tap! Two of them got in! Get them! We didn't have time to get them. They came to us. I looked to one side, I grabbed a mile and spiked, swung and smashed one in the air. I whirled to see Louie with the other. He had ripped his hand open. The blood was pouring all over the place. He held his hand aloft and kicked at the snarling rat. I stepped and swung and got him! My hand! He got my hand! That's both of them, Louie. I'll get you something to tie that up. Blood! Look at my blood! I'm bleeding! Don't worry about it. Here, it's all right. I'll wind his hand to keep round it. It'll be okay. Blood! There you are. There. That's not bad, Mark. Just the flesh. And then, then I became conscious of a new sound. They were gnawing their way through the wooden trap door. I watched the wood, fascinated. And even if I did, it began to give way and a bristling, whiskery nose showed through. Louie, we've got to go up! The next level was the living quarters and kitchen. I slammed the trap there, but it too was a wood! I'm glad. John, what are we going to do? I don't know. It better be through this one in a moment. The gallery. The trap door in the gallery is metal. Good! Come on! We lay across the trap, exhausted, while below us, the rats took over the entire tower. I could hear them howling and fighting over our food supply, our water, our leather. And all about us, the others screamed and glared in at us, swayed in a tangled mask, hypnotised by the ever-turning light! By morning, the air in the little room was horrible. Until now, we'd been getting air from the tower below. And now that was sealed off, and so was all our food and water. We lay exhausted, panting, waiting, waiting. And the hours crawled on. I was almost dozing from fatigue when I heard a sight that brought me too fast. Would you like to come in, my beauties, would you? I hold the powers of life and death, and I can let you in, you know. Our ghost was standing by the glass, and in one hand he held a big wrench. I was tapping the glass gently, not quite hard enough to break it. Slowly I eased myself from my feet, and slowly, very slowly, tipped toe toward him. All I have to do is tap just a little harder. I found a coil of wire in the toolkit, and I trust him up, fastened him to a stanchion in the centre of the room. Louis was of no help. He lay on his side, looking at his bloody hand, weak and sick as a baby. So there I was, a lunatic and a coward for company. That night I tended the light, but its flame was devouring our oxygen. The following day we lay thirst-tormented, starving, waiting, waiting. And the following night I again tended the light, but the small supply of spare wicking we kept in the gallery had become exhausted. And at about midnight, the light began to flicker, and slowly, so slowly, began to go out. There was nothing I could do. Wicks were stored three levels below. Nothing I could do. Nothing. At time to time I'd strike a match to see the clock, and when I did, it lit up the million red eyes about us. All about watching, waiting. Below it had grown quiet. They'd cleaned us out, and now they too were waiting. All waiting. And then the rats, quite suddenly, were silent. And then I heard it. And then I saw the sky and the stars. The rats were gone. I went to the glass. Out there on the water, a small freighter, a banana boat showing a few lights came softly and innocently at us. The light was out. They didn't know. I wanted to open the windows to call out to them, to warn them. But I was afraid. What if the rats were hiding from me, tricking me? So I waited. She grounded very softly on a reef not two hundred yards from the quay. Grounded so gently that the man playing the cornet, was he a passenger, a crew man off watch? Didn't even stop playing. They tried washing her off. I could have told them to save their fuel. The tide was rising. It would have floated her free. And I waited. That's all. That's the story. The sun came up and there wasn't a rat on the whole quay. Every last one of that terrible army had left us, gone back to sea on their new ship. August, the insane asylum. He never recovered. And Louis, they took him into Cayenne where he died of blood poisoning from his bite. Yes, that's the whole of it. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go set my traps. No, no. Mouse traps. No rats in this lighthouse. I should say not. Life in the lights isn't bad. But sometimes when I see a strange vessel approaching, I get a little nervous. Yes, when you know that somewhere on the seas there's a little banana boat without a crew. That is, without a human crew. Under the direction of Anthony Ellis, Escape has brought you Three Skeleton Key by Georges Tudouz, adapted by James Poe, starring Ben Wright as Jean, Paul Fries as Louis, and Jane Novello as August. The special music for Escape was composed and conducted by Leif Stevens. Next week. You are a hundred miles from your own lines, waiting for the enemy who will lead you to your destination. While with every moment, the danger to you and your men becomes more acute. For if you are discovered, the only road of Escape will be death. So listen next week when Escape will bring you Gus Bay's exciting story, The Thirteenth Truck. Tomorrow evening, CBS Radio's Crime Classics presents the stirring story of the Axe and the Drute family, how they fared. It's several pages of criminal history you're sure to enjoy. So be listening for Crime Classics, presented by CBS Radio tomorrow evening on most of these same CBS radio stations. This is George Walsh speaking. And remember, there's action as a policeman really finds it in 21st Precinct, Tuesdays on the CBS Radio Network. The Thirteenth Truck. The Thirteenth Truck.
