SOUND:

TONE

BULOVA ANNCR:

Twenty seconds till eight p.m., B-U-L-O-V-A, Bulova Watch Time. Men, choose today's outstanding watch value: the fifteen-jewel Bulova Officer. Handsome, accurate, thoroughly dependable. Only twenty-four dollars, seventy-five cents, including federal tax.

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

Now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world -- Roma Wines present--

MUSIC:

CHORD

ANNOUNCER:

--SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

THEME ... THEN IN BG

ANNOUNCER:

Tonight Roma Wines bring you Mr. Elliot Reid as star of "Return Trip," a SUSPENSE play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spier.

MUSIC:

UP FOR ACCENT AND OUT

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

SUSPENSE, radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. Those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live, to your happiness in entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glassful would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Elliott Reid in a remarkable tale of--

MUSIC:

CHORD

ANNOUNCER:

--SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

CHORD FADES OUT

SOUND:

HOSPITAL ROOM DOOR OPENS ... NURSE AND SUPERINTENDENT'S STEPS IN

DRIVER:

Nurse?

NURSE:

Yes. There's someone to see you.

DRIVER:

Yeah?

NURSE:

This is Superintendent Andrews of the state institution.

DRIVER:

Oh. What - what d'you got there?

SUPER:

I've set up a dictaphone out in the hall. Careful of the wire, nurse, when you close the door, please.

NURSE:

The doctor said [not to keep him]--

SUPER:

Yes, yes, I'll make it as brief as possible. You may go now, nurse.

NURSE:

Very well.

SOUND:

NURSE'S STEPS TO DOOR, WHICH CLOSES AS SHE EXITS

SUPER:

Oh, do you mind if I hook up this microphone at the head of the bed?

DRIVER:

Suit yourself, fella.

SOUND:

MICROPHONE HOOKED TO BED

SUPER:

Well, it was a choice between a dictaphone and a stenographer, and I figured that in your condition--

DRIVER:

I don't feel too bad. (BEAT) Well, go on, ask your questions.

SUPER:

Now, I - I understand you were driving the bus. Er, tell me what happened.

DRIVER:

You mean I can tell it in my own way?

SUPER:

That's right.

DRIVER:

Great. I had an uncle once, you know, that was a writer. He wouldn't have gone near this kind of a story, though, with a ten-foot pen. No, he went in for happy endings.

MUSIC:

OMINOUS TRANSITION ... THEN IN BG--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Uncle Mort wouldn't even have liked the beginning of this one. Kind of dreary-like up there at the asylum that afternoon. Do you remember? There'd been quite a snowfall the week before. And, far as the eye could see, everything was a dirty gray, like a corpse that's been waitin' too long for the undertaker. Well, around four o'clock it got so dark the lights had to be turned on in the asylum. (SOUND: WIND MOANS) And then the wind started moanin' like a lonely banshee. Fine day for a murder, as the fella said.

MUSIC:

UP FOR AN ACCENT ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, there were three passengers sittin' in the bus when I went outside for the return trip -- two men and a woman. Maybe I ought to call her a girl 'cuz she wasn't really much more than that. Anyway, these three passengers all had return tickets and I went down the aisle collectin' them.

SOUND:

WIND CONTINUES IN BG ... DRIVER'S STEPS IN BUS AISLE, IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--

DRIVER:

Tickets, please. May I have your tickets, please?

GIRL:

(NERVOUS) Driver? Driver, how soon do we start?

DRIVER:

Right away, miss.

WILLARD:

(FIDGETY) But we're two minutes late already, driver! Oh, these little jerkwater bus lines never keep to their schedules. Now we'll never get out of these mountains before that blizzard lets loose.

DRIVER:

Can I have your ticket please, mister?

GIRL:

Do you really think there'll be a storm?

WILLARD:

Why, sure, sure, it can't fail. And, lady, when they have snow up in these godforsaken mountains-- Well, this morning on the bus coming up, a man was telling me--

SOUND:

BUS ENGINE STARTS

DRIVER:

(OFF) Well, here we go, folks!

SOUND:

RUNNING BUS INTERIOR ... THEN IN BG

MUSIC:

IN AND BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) The windbag was sittin' right across the aisle from the girl, second row from the front. Halfway back in the bus sat the third passenger, all huddled up in his overcoat. He didn't open his trap. Well, that was the picture as we swung out onto the highway for the return trip. And this guy in back of me seemed to be itchy to start a conversation with somebody as soon as we got rollin'.

WILLARD:

Well-- (CLEARS THROAT) Might as well get acquainted, miss. (CHUCKLES) Fifty miles before we get down to civilization, you know. Er, John Willard is the name. (NO RESPONSE) I said, er--

GIRL:

(DISTRACTED) What? Oh. I - I beg your pardon. Were you speaking to me?

WILLARD:

Well, er, yes.

GIRL:

I'm afraid I - I was [thinking of]--

WILLARD:

(INTERRUPTS, SYMPATHETIC) Yeah, sure, sure. These visits to the asylum, they're always depressing, aren't they?

GIRL:

Well, this - this is my first time.

WILLARD:

Oh? Er, some friend?

GIRL:

My husband.

WILLARD:

(TAKEN ABACK) Husband--? Oh, well now, that's too bad. I - I hope he--

SOUND:

DURING ABOVE, ASYLUM SIREN BEGINS TO WAIL ... CONTINUES IN BG

WILLARD:

(STARTLED) Hey, what's that?

GIRL:

(ALARMED) Some kind of a siren!

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) Yeah, that's the asylum alarm, all right.

GIRL:

But, driver, what--?

DRIVER:

One of the inmates must be playin' hide-and-seek with the keepers. Happens every once in a while.

WILLARD:

Gosh. What if it's my brother?

DRIVER:

Oh? He the "bustin' out" kind?

WILLARD:

Well, it kind of upsets him to see one of the family. But then if we don't come to see him, it upsets him even more.

DRIVER:

I see what you mean.

GIRL:

(WORRIED) Do they--? Do they always catch them?

DRIVER:

(LIGHTLY) Well, they tell me the place has never lost a customer yet.

GIRL:

Oh.

SOUND:

ASYLUM SIREN OUT ... SLOWLY APPROACHING POLICE SIREN, IN BG

GIRL:

(SADLY) You know, a moment ago I - I was praying that it wasn't Jim, but now I don't know. Even if they had to-- Well, I mean, it would-- It would be better than seeing him as he was today. Anything would be better than--

WILLARD:

(INTERRUPTS) Listen, listen!

DRIVER:

Hey, that's a police siren.

WILLARD:

Sounds like they're almost on top of us. (BEAT) Yes, there they are. There they are.

SOUND:

POLICE SIREN GROWS LOUDER

GIRL:

Look out! Look out, they're going to pass us!

DRIVER:

Pass nothin'. They're flaggin' me down.

SOUND:

BUS PULLS TO A STOP ... SIRENS OUT AS POLICE PULL TO A STOP

DRIVER:

All right, just keep your seats, everybody.

WILLARD:

(BREATHES NERVOUSLY) They're guards!

GIRL:

(DISMAYED) With rifles.

SOUND:

BUS DOOR OPENS ... HARSH WIND BLOWS A LITTLE LOUDER, BRIEFLY ... GUARDS' STEPS ONTO BUS, THEN IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--

1ST GUARD:

Hey, we're, uh-- We're lookin' for somebody.

DRIVER:

Yeah, we heard the asylum alarm. Is someone, er--?

1ST GUARD:

Seen anyone along the road?

DRIVER:

Not even a jackrabbit.

GIRL:

Officer, who escaped?

1ST GUARD:

Gregg. Albert Gregg.

GIRL:

(RELIEVED) Oh.

WILLARD:

Whew! What a relief.

1ST GUARD:

Hey, Hawley, take yourself a walk down the aisle and keep your rifle ready when you look behind those back seats.

2ND GUARD:

(MOVING OFF) Are you kiddin'?

SOUND:

GUARD'S STEPS DOWN AISLE ... THEN IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--

DRIVER:

When was this comin'-out party?

1ST GUARD:

I don't know. Maybe as much as a couple hours ago.

WILLARD:

Does this Gregg have a gun?

1ST GUARD:

Can't guarantee he hasn't. But it was a file that sprung him. A tiny steel file. He must have been workin' away at the bars since the day he was committed, a month ago.

GIRL:

(GRIM, HALF TO HERSELF) His stay was short.

2ND GUARD:

(OFF) Nobody back here.

1ST GUARD:

Okay. Now check the gents for identification. You know how it is, driver. Ya can't take chances.

DRIVER:

Oh, of course not. Here's mine.

1ST GUARD:

(MILDLY SURPRISED AND AMUSED) Huh? Oh, okay, driver.

2ND GUARD:

(OFF) Uh, your name Frank Kenniston?

KENNISTON:

(BEAT, SNIDE, OFF) You can read, can't you?

2ND GUARD:

(OFF) Huh! Friendly cuss, ain't you?

DRIVER:

(LOW, TO 1ST GUARD) You know, that's the first peep that passenger has let out. I was beginnin' to think he was a deaf-mute.

1ST GUARD:

Yeah? Well, here, driver. You can have this stuff back.

DRIVER:

Oh, thanks.

2ND GUARD:

(CLOSER, READS I.D.) "John Willard"?

WILLARD:

Yes, sir.

2ND GUARD:

(SATISFIED) Okey-doke. (TO 1ST GUARD) Come on, Denton, let's scram. We gotta find Gregg before he finds anybody.

1ST GUARD:

Yeah. Hey, driver, you can turn around now and go back.

GIRL:

Go back?

DRIVER:

Go back? Why?

WILLARD:

Oh, no, no--

1ST GUARD:

This Gregg is a killer. [A ruthless, senseless killer.] What I mean is, when the mood strikes him, he strikes.

DRIVER:

Well, what's that gotta do with us turnin' back?

1ST GUARD:

Didn't I tell you this man kills even without reason? Now he's got plenty of reason. He's got to get out of these mountains but quick. If he's down the road, there are lots of ways he could stop a bus. I say turn back.

WILLARD:

(EXPLODES) But that blizzard's liable to break any minute now. We could be snowbound up here for days! And if I have to spend another-- Even a night! One night in that asylum, so help me, they'd have to keep me there. (DESPERATELY) Oh, listen, driver. Listen to me, please--

DRIVER:

(INTERRUPTS) Just a second, Mr. Willard. You're just one passenger. There are three. Now, let's take a vote. What about you, miss?

GIRL:

(HELPLESSLY) I - I-- Whatever you say.

DRIVER:

Mr., er, Kenniston?

KENNISTON:

(GRIM) I say keep going.

DRIVER:

That settles it.

2ND GUARD:

Hurry up, Denton.

GIRL:

Wait a minute. Uh, what - what does this "Killer Gregg" look like?

1ST GUARD:

Oh, our description says, er, slight build, weight about a hundred and forty.

2ND GUARD:

Uh, dark hair, brown eyes, twenty-seven years old. (TO 1ST GUARD) Denton, get the lead out of your breeches.

1ST GUARD:

Yeah, but you know I still think--

2ND GUARD:

(INTERRUPTS) We warned 'em, didn't we? Now if they meet up with him, it's their funeral.

SOUND:

GUARDS' STEPS OFF THE BUS

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) Yeah. Well, we can take care of ourselves, fellas.

MUSIC:

FOREBODING ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

SOUND:

BUS ENGINE STARTS ... RUNNING BUS INTERIOR BACKGROUND

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, after the guards left I really set that bus to rollin'. Out of the mirror up above the driver's seat I could see that the girl was plenty scared. But she had nerve, I'll say that for her. (SOUND: BUS TIRES SQUEAL ROUNDING CURVES ON SNOWY ROAD) When we slid around some of those snowbanked curves, her lips would be drawn so tight the lipstick had a white border. But she didn't say boo. (SOUND: TIRES OUT) Willard, the windbag across the aisle from her, gave up trying to draw her into a conversation. And as for the third passenger -- that English guy, Kenniston, sittin' halfway towards the back there -- he kept actin' like a clam afraid of losin' its oyster. Might as well have had lockjaw -- if you get what I mean.

MUSIC:

UP TO FILL A PAUSE ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

SOUND:

WIND HOWLS HARSHLY, IN BG

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, we hadn't gone more than another mile or two before the wind started to rise and kept it up until you'd have thought all the devils in hell were tryin' to break loose. It got black as the inside of a tomb, until the snow started to fall. But with that wind whippin' it around, it didn't exactly "fall." Mister, that's what I call a blizzard.

SOUND:

RUNNING BUS INTERIOR AND HOWLING WIND, IN BG

WILLARD:

(EXPLODES) This is getting on my nerves! What have we got here anyway -- a collection of zombies?! Somebody say something!

GIRL:

(PENSIVE) Ah, I was just going to say--

WILLARD:

(INTERRUPTS) You were going to say that the weather is rotten.

DRIVER:

Yeah, and she can say that again.

GIRL:

But that isn't what I was going to say.

WILLARD:

No? What then, lady?

GIRL:

It - it occurred to me why the guards asked for identification.

WILLARD:

Huh?

GIRL:

The description of Killer Gregg -- slight build, hundred and forty pounds, dark hair, brown eyes, twenty-seven years old--

WILLARD:

So what?

GIRL:

It's a remarkable thing. That description would fit you, Mr. Willard.

WILLARD:

Huh? (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY) Oh?

GIRL:

And Mr. Kenniston, too.

KENNISTON:

What's that? Me?

GIRL:

That's a peculiar thing. Isn't it, driver?

DRIVER:

Yeah. Come to think of it, both of them could fit that description. And I've also heard that he's got a very soft face -- almost like a woman.

WILLARD:

(SUSPICIOUS) What do you think, Mr. Kenniston?

KENNISTON:

I don't happen to feel like talking.

WILLARD:

Yeah? Well, personally I think-- The more I think of what she said, the more remarkable it becomes.

DRIVER:

Yeah, she's got somethin' there.

WILLARD:

Only remarkable isn't the word.

GIRL:

Well, what do you mean, Mr. Willard? [What are you thinking?]

WILLARD:

This man Gregg may be insane, but he's not dumb. Now, put yourself in his place. He knows he hasn't got a ghost of a chance making a getaway in the asylum clothing, see? So he borrows the wardrobe and identification of some stranger. Do you follow me?

DRIVER:

We're way ahead of you, Willard.

GIRL:

It - it wouldn't be difficult for a killer.

DRIVER:

I should say not, but that still isn't the end of his problems, see? He's fightin' against time.

WILLARD:

(EXCITEDLY) Yes! He's got to get out of these godforsaken mountains, down to civilization, before they can throw a noose around the whole area. And he knows -- he knows! -- if he's brought back alive, he'll be wearing a straitjacket -- (SOBERLY) until he's old as Methuselah.

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) You've got quite an imagination, Willard.

WILLARD:

Yeah? Well, thanks. (RESUMES INTENSELY) Now, the odds that Gregg will be able to get himself transportation are mighty slim, except--! (QUIET REALIZATION) Except for this bus line. So let's suppose--

KENNISTON:

You've got a great imagination, all right. You've got it all figured out. Bit too pat, if you ask me. Remember please, sir -- you're the one who was so dead set against turning back.

WILLARD:

(EXPLODES, DEFIANT) Really, Kenniston? Well, I leave it to the lady here and the driver! Do I act like a lunatic?! Huh? (NO ANSWER) Well?!

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) Search me.

GIRL:

(THOUGHTFUL) There were times -- long periods of time -- when Jim didn't, either. My husband I mean. That was the terrible part of it. He'd be-- He'd be just like the old days and we'd be so happy together and then-- And then all of a sudden, just without warning, he - he--

DRIVER:

(LIGHTLY) Oh, I heard o' lots of cases like that. Why, they tell me that sometimes it takes half a dozen of those, er, special doctors-- Those, er--

WILLARD:

(UNHAPPY) Psychiatrists?

DRIVER:

Yeah, psychiatrists! Yeah. Well, sometimes they gotta put a person under a microscope and study 'em for a long time before they can be sure, one way or the other. (CHUCKLES) And many's the time they make mistakes. Why, I heard of one time when--

WILLARD:

(EXPLODES) Shut up! Nobody's gonna talk like that about me! It's Kenniston that's been acting crazy! And I'll bet it wouldn't take a half a dozen psychiatrists to--!

SOUND:

OMINOUS RUMBLE, IN BG

GIRL:

(INTERRUPTS) But-- What's that?!

WILLARD:

Huh?

SOUND:

DURING ABOVE, OMINOUS RUMBLE BUILDS UP ... THEN GROWS LOUDER, IN BG

KENNISTON:

An avalanche!

DRIVER:

An avalanche!

GIRL:

No!

DRIVER:

It's comin' down on us! Look out!

SOUND:

PASSENGERS SCREAM IN TERROR AS THE AVALANCHE CRASHES THUNDEROUSLY INTO THE BUS

MUSIC:

BIG ACCENT! FOR AN AVALANCHE ... THEN TAPERING OFF ... FILLS A PAUSE ... THEN BEHIND ANNOUNCER--

ANNOUNCER:

For SUSPENSE, Roma Wines are bringing you as star Elliott Reid, in "Return Trip," a radio play by Maurice Zimm, Roma Wines' presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

UP FOR SUSPENSE TAG ... THEN OUT

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

Between the acts of SUSPENSE, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. Nowadays, renewing old friendships interrupted by the war is a popular American pastime. For most of us, hardly a week goes by without some friend of pre-war vintage dropping in to say hello. Well, that's one of the reasons so many Americans keep Roma California sherry on hand, always. For the gold and amber radiance and tempting nutlike richness of Roma sherry capture the very spirit of gracious hospitality. And Roma sherry does more than welcome guests. Roma sherry is the perfect first call to dinner -- the happy, mellow, moderate wine that suits your every entertaining need. Like the other fine Roma California dessert wines -- Roma port, Roma muscatel, and Roma tokay -- Roma sherry is a true wine, from just the luscious goodness of the finest grapes, patiently guided to taste perfection by Roma winemaking skill and resources unmatched in America. That's why Roma is America's favorite wine -- why more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. So insist on Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, and enjoy unvarying goodness at reasonable cost, always.

MUSIC:

THEME, IN BG

ANNOUNCER:

And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage Elliott Reid, starring with Wally Maher as Mr. Willard, Cathy Lewis as the girl, and Raymond Lawrence as Mr. Kenniston, in "Return Trip," a tale well-calculated to keep you in--

MUSIC:

CHORD

ANNOUNCER:

--SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

CHORD FADES OUT

DRIVER:

(GENIAL) Well, superintendent, what do you think of the yarn so far?

SUPER:

(BUSINESSLIKE) Let's hear the rest of it.

DRIVER:

Okay, okay -- if you'll help me get a swig of that water.

SUPER:

Sure.

DRIVER:

The way they got me rigged up here--

SOUND:

GLASS OF WATER

DRIVER:

Ah, thanks. (DRINKS, EXHALES)

SOUND:

GLASS OF WATER SET DOWN

DRIVER:

(EXHALES) Let's see now, where was I? Oh, yeah. (LIGHTLY) Acts two, three, and four comin' up.

MUSIC:

GRIM TRANSITION ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, after the avalanche struck, I just sat there grippin' the steering wheel, sort of stunned. There wasn't a sound except for the wind -- (SOUND: HARSH WIND BLOWS, NEVER STOPPING, IN BG, THROUGHOUT ALL OF NEXT SCENES) -- and that was muffled by the snow barrier that packed us in. Even on the far side, the bus was buried up to the middle of the windows. Well, all this was only a matter of seconds, I suppose. And then suddenly the quiet was broken by the most gosh-awful racket. (SOUND: PANICKING PASSENGERS YELL AND POUND ON WINDOWS, IN BG) It was as if somebody had up and given the signal for my passengers to go completely nuts!

GIRL:

(HYSTERICAL) Get me out of here! Get me out of here!

KENNISTON:

Look out! Willard's got an axe!

GIRL:

The axe! Take it away from him!

SOUND:

POUNDING STOPS ... VIOLENT SCUFFLE, IN BG

DRIVER:

(WITH EFFORT) Let go of it, Willard! Let go of that axe or I'll--!

WILLARD:

No! No!

SOUND:

DRIVER STRIKES WILLARD

WILLARD:

(GROANS IN PAIN, FALLS UNCONSCIOUS)

SOUND:

BODY AND AXE THUD TO BUS FLOOR

DRIVER:

(EXHALES) That did it.

GIRL:

(EXHALES, WITH CERTAINTY) He's the one! He is the one!

KENNISTON:

Lucky I saw him grab that fire-axe. That's what the district attorney likes to call a - a lethal weapon.

DRIVER:

And then some!

WILLARD:

(WAKES, GROANS)

DRIVER:

Step back. He's comin' to.

KENNISTON:

Tie him up.

DRIVER:

You'll find a rope in the dashboard compartment. Get it for me.

SOUND:

KENNISTON'S STEPS AWAY

WILLARD:

(GROGGY) Driver, I'll report you for this.

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) You will, huh?

WILLARD:

I was going to smash a window so we could get out of here.

DRIVER:

(SKEPTICAL) Oh, yeah?

WILLARD:

Sure. What did you think I--? (REALIZES) Oh. Oh, so that's it, eh?

SOUND:

KENNISTON'S STEPS RETURN

KENNISTON:

Here's the rope, driver.

WILLARD:

Now look here! Wait a minute, you can't do this! You can't tie me up, you fools! I'm not Killer Gregg!

GIRL:

(UNCERTAIN) May-maybe he isn't.

DRIVER:

Maybe. But like that guard said, we can't take chances. (TO WILLARD) If you're innocent, mister, you can prove it to the authorities.

WILLARD:

If we ever live that long! Have you forgotten we're trapped here by an avalanche in a blizzard that could go on and on and on?!

DRIVER:

Just the same, I--

GIRL:

(SUDDENLY LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY) This is ridiculous! (KEEPS LAUGHING, IN BG)

DRIVER:

(MYSTIFIED) Hey, missy -- you feelin' all right?

GIRL:

No. (STOPS LAUGHING, APOLOGETIC) I'm not crazy, driver. But I guess I was a little. Actually, there's no proof that - that Killer Gregg is on this bus.

DRIVER:

(CONCEDES) Well, if you put it that way--

GIRL:

It's all my fault and I'm sorry. My - my only excuse is that I was just so upset by seeing Jim, my husband--

KENNISTON:

(INTERRUPTS) Well, I still say--

GIRL:

(INTERRUPTS) No, no, no. Now - now, we've got to start acting like rational human beings. Let - let poor Mr. Willard up from the floor.

SOUND:

WILLARD HELPED TO HIS FEET BY DRIVER

WILLARD:

(EXHALES, RELIEVED) Thanks, lady.

DRIVER:

(RELUCTANT AGREEMENT) Well, all right. But I'm warning you, Willard -- no funny stuff.

WILLARD:

Oh, snap out of it, driver, will you? We've got to get out of this mess. Hand me that axe.

DRIVER:

Do I look that dumb?

WILLARD:

Oh - oh, all right, all right. Then use it yourself. Smash a window so we can crawl out.

DRIVER:

(LIGHTLY) Willard, even you don't look that dumb! What makes you think the windows won't open?

WILLARD:

Huh?

GIRL:

Then open one!

DRIVER:

What for? To let in the blizzard?

WILLARD:

But we've got to get out of here, driver!

DRIVER:

Not me! It would take a bear to make even a city block in that windswept hell.

GIRL:

Well, we can't stay here!

DRIVER:

Why not? We're not freezin' -- yet.

KENNISTON:

The driver's right. Our best chance is to sit pat until the storm lets up.

WILLARD:

Yeah, but what if it doesn't, huh? (HYSTERICAL) What if it lasts longer than we do? What then, huh?! What then?! What then?!

DRIVER:

Shut up! Blowin' your top won't do any good, Willard. Nobody's ever confused me with Pollyanna, but things could be worse. This is as good an igloo as any, and if and when the weather clears-- Well, we can send out a party for help.

KENNISTON:

Or maybe a road-clearing crew will come to our rescue.

GIRL:

Yes! Yes, I - I suppose that that's the sane thing to do -- wait here.

KENNISTON:

How about you, Willard? (POINTEDLY SUSPICIOUS) You also decided to do the "sane" thing?

WILLARD:

(GRIM) I don't like that crack, you. One more like it and I'll--!

DRIVER:

(INTERRUPTS) Look, we're not startin' that again! Now, it's gonna be a long night and we might just as well make ourselves comfortable and try to get some sleep.

WILLARD:

(SCORNFUL) Hah! Sleep!

DRIVER:

Cut it out! (GENTLY, TO GIRL) Now, miss, you take the backseat. It's the only one that runs the full width of the bus. You can use your lap robe for a quilt.

GIRL:

All right, driver. (TO ALL, CALMLY) I - I want to apologize again to everyone for the way I behaved. I-- Casting suspicion--

DRIVER:

Forget it. You need any help?

GIRL:

No. No, thank you.

SOUND:

GIRL'S STEPS BEHIND--

GIRL:

I just don't know what came over me, starting that idiotic talk. Please believe that I didn't-- (STOPS SHORT, STUNNED) Why--

DRIVER:

(BEAT) What's the matter?

WILLARD:

(NO ANSWER) Why are you staring at the floor?

SOUND:

THEIR SLOW STEPS TO GIRL

KENNISTON:

Well? Say something!

GIRL:

(QUIETLY TENSE) Look. Look!

DRIVER:

A file!

KENNISTON:

A tiny steel file!

WILLARD:

The one that Gregg--?

GIRL:

(REALIZES, SLOWLY) After the avalanche hit, there was a mad scramble. One of you lost it then. One of you is Gregg! Killer Gregg!

SOUND:

GIRL'S HURRIED STEPS TO BUS DOOR

GIRL:

(WILDLY) Let me out of here!

SOUND:

GIRL KICKS AND POUNDS VIOLENTLY ON DOOR ... THEN IN BG

GIRL:

(HYSTERICAL) Oh, let me out of here! Please let me out of here! Oh, I've just got to get out of here! (ET CETERA ... CONTINUES IN BG)

MUSIC:

SNEAKS IN DURING ABOVE ... SLOW AND GRIM, IN COUNTERPOINT TO THE GIRL'S HYSTERIA ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, we just let her wear herself out, kickin' and bangin' on the door. Nobody said a word. Willard and Kenniston just stared at me, and at each other. (SOUND: GIRL'S VOICE FADES OUT AND HER POUNDING CEASES ... WIND BLOWS EVEN HARDER THAN BEFORE, IN BG) By and by, the girl stopped her fussin' -- and then she stood and stared at the three of us in rotation. It would have made your flesh crawl. And outside, the blizzard was gettin' worse, if possible. Finally, I reached into the watch pocket of my pants and brought out the old timepiece.

WILLARD:

What - what time is it, driver?

DRIVER:

(WITH DIFFICULTY, SQUINTING) Eh, broke the crystal. It still says a quarter of four.

GIRL:

(CHECKS HER OWN WATCH, UNEMOTIONAL) It's - it's five-thirty. Only an hour and a half since we started out. (WITH DISMAY) An hour and a half.

KENNISTON:

(GRIM) Five-thirty in the afternoon. At the very best, we're stuck until morning.

WILLARD:

(REALIZES, SHAKEN) Fourteen-- Sixteen hours.

GIRL:

(MISERABLE) Might as well be forever.

DRIVER:

(REASSURING) Look, miss -- we just got to make the best of it. I still think you ought to go back to the rear seat.

GIRL:

(DOUBTFUL) And sleep?

DRIVER:

If you can.

KENNISTON:

Willard, the driver, and myself will be keeping a rather close eye on each other -- in the light of recent developments. You'll be all right. Here, driver, give me that axe.

DRIVER:

Huh?

KENNISTON:

Let her have it for her protection.

WILLARD:

Sure. Sure, let her have it.

GIRL:

(QUIETLY EAGER) Yes. Yes, give it to me.

DRIVER:

(AMUSED) Okay. You holdin' on to the file, too?

KENNISTON:

'Course she is. The file could also be a - lethal weapon.

SOUND:

WIND CONTINUES, IN BG

MUSIC:

IN AND BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Well, she took the axe and the file back to the rear seat with her, and we all sat down to wait. Those were the longest seconds of the longest minutes of the longest hours that ever-- Well, somehow it got to be nine o'clock -- ten -- eleven. Finally, it was midnight.

MUSIC:

UP FOR A BRIEF TRANSITION ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Ever fought against sleep? With the cold numbing you and the wind lulling ya? Sometimes even the fear of sudden death can't win against those odds. Time and again, the girl's eyes would close -- just for a second! -- and then they stayed closed longer. And her head nodded and her body slumped over against the corner of the seat. I got up and started down the aisle.

SOUND:

WIND STILL BLOWING FIERCELY, IN BG ... DRIVER'S SLOW FOOTSTEPS, THEN OUT WITH--

KENNISTON:

(TENSE) Where are you going?

DRIVER:

(LOW) Ssh, Kenniston! Can't you see she's asleep?

KENNISTON:

(LOW, INSISTS) Where are you going?

DRIVER:

Her lap robe slipped to the floor; I was gonna pick it up and cover her so she wouldn't freeze. Any objections?

KENNISTON:

I'll do it.

DRIVER:

Oh, no, you won't.

WILLARD:

Go ahead, driver.

DRIVER:

(AMUSED, LIGHTLY) See, Kenniston? Willard thinks I should do it. That makes it two to one.

SOUND:

DRIVER'S STEPS TO GIRL

DRIVER:

(BENDS WITH A GRUNT, THEN ADJUSTS ROBE, QUIETLY) There.

GIRL:

(WAKES WITH A START, PANICS, GASPS AND GRUNTS WITH EFFORT AS--)

SOUND:

WILD SCUFFLE! ... GIRL SLAPS AND CLAWS AT DRIVER

DRIVER:

Help me! Help me with this wildcat! Get that file away from her before she jabs my eyes out!

GIRL:

(GASPS AND GRUNTS, IN BG, OUT AT [X])

MUSIC:

BIG ACCENT ... THEN BEHIND DRIVER--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) She was like a devil on a pinwheel -- and I was lucky to tear loose before she did any more than nick me about the face. [X] Afterwards when Willard told her what I was up to, she apologized. But I didn't go near her again all the rest of that night. (SOUND: WIND FINALLY DIES OUT) Well, about five o'clock the blizzard stopped. And at seven, the sun managed to break through. Then we held a council of war.

GIRL:

We can't send out for help.

WILLARD:

Why not?

GIRL:

Don't you see, Mr. Willard? If we split up the men, whichever of you is Gregg would have too good an opportunity -- whether he goes or stays.

WILLARD:

You could go -- alone.

GIRL:

I'd never make it.

KENNISTON:

We could all go together. How about that, driver?

DRIVER:

(RELUCTANT) Well-- No, I'd - I'd rather stick with the bus, Kenniston. But before we decide anything, let's get out and look around.

MUSIC:

QUIETLY HOPEFUL ... IN AND THEN IN BG--

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) We got a window open on the far side of the bus and crawled through; the girl first. She was still clutchin' the axe and the file.

GIRL:

(OFF, EXCITED) Come here! Come here and look!

DRIVER:

What?

WILLARD:

Huh?

GIRL:

(OFF) Another few yards and we would have escaped the avalanche entirely. We can shovel our way out! I'm sure we can!

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) There were two shovels in the tool compartment at the tail guard of the bus.

SOUND:

SHOVELS IN SNOW ... WILLARD & KENNISTON GRUNT AND GASP WITH EFFORT AS THEY DIG, IN BG

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) That only let two men shovel at a time, with the third man gettin' a breather meanwhile. It took a lot of shovelin'.

MUSIC:

OUT

SOUND:

GRUNTING AND SHOVELING CONTINUES, IN BG

KENNISTON:

What's the matter, driver? Hurt your hand?

DRIVER:

Oh, nothing much. Just feels good to take off those stiff leather gloves.

KENNISTON:

Nasty blisters you got on that right hand. On the thumb and [first two] fingers.

DRIVER:

(SHARPLY) Say, Kenniston, are you shovelin' or talkin'? We'll never get out of here at this rate.

KENNISTON:

Well, it's your turn anyway. (EXHALES) I'm tired.

DRIVER:

Not as tired as Willard looks. I'll relieve him.

WILLARD:

No. No, that's all right. I can keep going yet for a while.

DRIVER:

Okay then. Kenniston?

KENNISTON:

Here.

SOUND:

HANDS OVER SHOVEL

GIRL:

Let me take a turn. I know I won't be much help, but I can at least try.

WILLARD:

Oh, no, no, no. You're mountin' guard. Though I'm sure you could do as well as Kenniston. (STOPS DIGGING, REALIZES) Kenniston! Where's Kenniston?!

GIRL:

Why, he's right-- Stop him!

MUSIC:

ACCENT ... THEN IN BG--

SOUND:

RUNNING STEPS IN SNOW, BRIEFLY

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) Kenniston was making a mad dash through the snow. Willard dropped his shovel and tore after him. I yelled for Willard to let him go, but I don't think he even heard me. For a while it looked like Kenniston was gonna make it, but then he floundered and fell in a snowdrift -- and before he could get underway again Willard nailed him.

WILLARD:

(WITH EFFORT) Oh, no, you don't!

SOUND:

BRIEF FISTFIGHT AND GRUNTING AS WILLARD BEATS KENNISTON UNCONSCIOUS

MUSIC:

UP AND OUT

SOUND:

DRIVER'S HURRIED STEPS APPROACH

WILLARD:

(PLEASED) Heh! Well, he'll stay put for a while.

DRIVER:

What'd you do, knock him out?

WILLARD:

Well, what else was there to do?

GIRL:

(APPROACHES, BREATHLESS) Is he--? (SEES) Oh.

WILLARD:

I knew all the time it was Kenniston.

GIRL:

You think his - his running away proves it?

WILLARD:

It's the same as if he confessed! He knew it was his last and only chance.

GIRL:

Well, what are we gonna do with him now?

WILLARD:

Tie him up. Then we're gettin' him and the bus out of here. (REALIZES) Say--! Say, I wonder-- I wonder if there's a reward.

MUSIC:

BRIEF TRANSITION ... THEN IN BG--

SOUND:

SPEEDING BUS INTERIOR BACKGROUND

DRIVER:

(NARRATES) In no time at all, we had the bus clear and headed for civilization. Those snow-covered mountain roads weren't exactly my idea of a speedway, but I gave my motor the gun. Willard and the girl didn't take their eyes off Kenniston. I kept watchin' him, too, out of the mirror over the driver's seat.

MUSIC:

OUT

DRIVER:

(TO WILLARD) It looks like he's comin' to.

WILLARD:

Don't worry, driver. Those knots I made in the rope won't give. (POINTEDLY) Besides, I'm keeping the axe handy just in case.

GIRL:

He's opening his eyes.

DRIVER:

(NERVOUSLY) Watch him now! Watch him!

KENNISTON:

(WAKES, GROANS) Yes, watch me -- and listen to me, too!

DRIVER:

(THREATENING) Shut up, Kenniston -- or I'll stop this bus and put you out for good.

KENNISTON:

Not before I've had my say! Willard--? And you, too, lady! Why do you think I tried to make a break for it?

GIRL:

Because you are--

WILLARD:

(SHARPLY) You're Killer Gregg!

KENNISTON:

You fools! You blind stupid fools! Was it my watch that had its crystal smashed at a quarter to four yesterday afternoon?

DRIVER:

So it was mine. So what?

KENNISTON:

At a quarter to four yesterday afternoon, Killer Gregg waylaid the real driver of this bus and took his place!

WILLARD:

What?

GIRL:

Oh, no.

KENNISTON:

That's how the crystal came to be broken!

DRIVER:

(SAVAGELY) Shut up, Kenniston! You can't talk your way out of this!

GIRL:

It - it could be a coincidence.

WILLARD:

Sure, sure!

KENNISTON:

That's what I thought, too -- coincidence! -- until I noticed the blisters on the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand! A file would make blisters like that. A file held in the right hand of Killer Gregg!

SOUND:

BUS SUDDENLY SPEEDS UP ... CONTINUES IN BG

GIRL:

(HORRIFIED) Look at him! Look at him! It's true!

WILLARD:

(REALIZES, IN HORROR) Gregg-- Gregg!

DRIVER:

(WILDLY) Don't come a step closer, any of ya! You make the slightest move and I'll crash the whole lot of us!

KENNISTON:

Don't do it, Gregg! Stop the bus! We won't do anything!

DRIVER:

(RAVING MADLY) It was a perfect plan! It had to work! If only that avalanche hadn't come along! But I'll still make it. I'll make it even if I have to--

SOUND:

PASSENGERS SCREAM ("Look out!" "That turn!" "No, no!") ... TIRES SQUEAL! AND METAL CRUNCHES! AND GLASS SHATTERS! AS BUS LEAVES THE ROAD AND ROLLS DOWN A HILL, CRASHING THUNDEROUSLY AT THE BOTTOM

MUSIC:

BIG ACCENT ... BRIEF SOMBER TRANSITION ... THEN OUT BEHIND--

DRIVER:

(RELIVING THE MOMENT WITH BREATHLESS HORROR) It rolled over and over and over and over. The bus -- and the glass -- all smashed. And everybody was all mangled and-- (GIBBERS UNEASILY)

SUPER:

(GRIM) All right, all right. Go to sleep now.

DRIVER:

Sleep? Who can go to sleep? (QUIETLY MAD) Who can go to sleep? (WITH PLEASURE) Anyway, I outlived those three. (CHUCKLES MADLY) [Killer Gregg -- that's me!] Killer Gregg-- (LAUGHS INSANELY AT GREAT LENGTH)

MUSIC:

SLOWLY TOPS THE HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER ... CURTAIN

ANNOUNCER:

SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

KNIFE CHORD! ... THEN BEHIND--

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.

MUSIC:

CHORD OUT

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. These days of hard-to-get meat and butter offer a real challenge to the American housewife who takes pride in her meals. That's why so many smart women serve Roma California burgundy with dinner. They know that even the simplest meals taste better, become more enjoyable, when served with a fine robust Roma burgundy. Discover for yourself the satisfying taste harmony of Roma burgundy with food. The next time you serve a savory pot roast, oven-browned meat loaf, or a piping hot dish of spaghetti heaped with a spicy sauce, bring out all its flavorful goodness with a bottle of red Roma burgundy. Or, if you prefer a lighter wine, let Roma California claret or famous Roma Zinfandel add magic taste and friendliness to your next meal. Remember, Roma, America's favorite wine, costs no more than ordinary wines. So insist on Roma, R-O-M-A, America's first choice in wine.

ANNOUNCER:

Elliott Reid appeared through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, producers of "To Each His Own." Next Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Mr. Leon Ames as star of--

MUSIC:

KNIFE CHORD!

ANNOUNCER:

--SUSPENSE, radio's outstanding theatre of thrills!

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

Produced by William Spier for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.

MUSIC:

THEME IN BG, UNTIL END--

TRUMAN BRADLEY:

This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.