 Tired of the everyday grind, and the dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you escape. Escape. Designed it for you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. But standing at the entrance of a walled-air of town, while behind you coming slowly through the night, at the shuttling footsteps of a blind beggar who will lead you into a harrowing world of darkness and terror. Listen now, as escape brings you Kathleen Heights terrifying story, The Return. But slowly through the breakwater of the outer harbor, most of the twelve passengers were on deck, looking north beyond the converging jetties to the modern city of Buzzerka. But two of us, a man named Tuckett and myself, Buzzerka was a destination. I didn't know what brought Tuckett here. I didn't really know what brought me here. I only knew that I'd look for something all over the world without success. I'd look everywhere except Buzzerka. As sure, I checked into the small hotel and a short time later, I was part of the early evening crowd on the streets of Buzzerka. We had to get to the Arab. Oh, sorry, I didn't notice about your eyes. One does map me dives to perceive truth, Efendi. No, I suppose not. What's your name? Nega. The Arab town is north, do know something. And the truth is everywhere, for all to see if they will but be. I hope you're right. Well, goodbye, Nega. Nega, Efendi. Nega. When we came ashore, I thought I'd find you again at the hotel, but they tell me you're not registered. What are you saying? Hotel North Africa. How about joining me there for dinner if you don't have any plans? I don't think I have any plans. If I do, they can catch up with me there, don't you think? Oh, yeah? Yes, I guess they can. When during dinner, maybe the wine was talking, maybe me. Either way, it seemed interested enough to ask a question. I think I understand, but have you any idea what you're looking for, Risa? I'm looking for a place where there's no struggle. No struggle for you? For anyone? I'm 40 years old, Tugget. For a little over half my lifetime, I've traveled the world. Worked my way, freighters and expeditions, bummed along on foot. Worked to see in the earth, flown fighter planes and freight lines above it. And I tell you there's only one thing that's universal, the struggle. Why? I suppose that's right. But it seems to me we're making a lot of progress in some directions. Now, medicine, for example, medicine's a good example. They let the Mongolian found cancer waiting for them. They inoculate for smallpox, they find bubonic plague. For every achievement that's a struggle waiting. I wonder if that's progress, Tugget. Well, I... I don't know. I never thought of it this way. You know, you take food, clothing and shelter, the basic needs. Of course, in some parts of the world people don't have them, but even when they do, there are bigger struggles to take their place. Fears, insecurities. Maybe you beat these things one at a time, but you've never got it made. While you're fighting against one struggle and others being fed and made strong. And it never ends, not until you die struggling to live. Hmm. Funny in a way. You've come to Berserta hoping you'll find a place where there's no struggle. And I've come here, well, to get into this struggle, I guess. I'm opening an import-export business, it's small and I'm sure full of struggle, but I'm not cynical about it, all of disillusioned. Yeah, no, I don't feel cynical, Tugget. I'm just short on hope. I don't see any end in sight. Research, hmm? What would you change if it were up to you? The struggle. Show me a place where there's no struggle. That's where I want to be. I wonder what it would be like. Yeah. If you find it, let me know, will you? If I can, I will. I'd get in touch with Tugget in a few days. But if I went back to the streets of Berserta walking through the fine rain that was falling now, I wondered if I'd ever see him again. My course took me north, along the canal through the modern city, past the ancient citadel, to the entrance of the walled Arab town. I fasted no one, yet I knew I was not alone. Someone was following behind me. Soon I heard his footsteps at my side. We are almost there, Effendi. Oh, nega. Walking without your cane to lead you. I am come to lead you, Effendi. Where? Through the wall ahead. Your words have been heard, Effendi. You are ready? Ready for what? You have said. Show me the place where there is no struggle. I am come to lead you, Effendi. Where? How do you know what I said? You have asked enough questions of lies, Effendi. Come. We go through the wall. Oh, you're out of your mind. Look upon you, Effendi. On all sides there are walls. You have come too far to go back. There is no way back. What are you talking about? I can't go back. You have said the word. Show me the place. Through the wall ahead is the perfect place. I will lead you there. This is crazy. You're crazy. You're blind. You can't lead me anywhere. Let go of me. You yourself have said that struggle, Effendi. I said let go of me, Effendi. Effendi. I had swung at mega with all the force in me only to find myself flattened against the wall. I'd slip on the wet pavement or trip. I don't know. But it was no imaginary wall I'd hit. I felt the hard pain of it in the rain beating against my face. And then it was over. I awakened was large. Large and empty with great windows at the far end and bright sunlight streaming through them. No room I'd ever seen before. My clothes were no longer damp. And there was no pain in me. I moved toward the sunlight. I am coming, Lisa. I don't see you. Come out of the shadows toward the light. You will find me. Now you can see me, can you not? Yes, now I see you. You seem to know me, but I've never seen you before. I'm called Veen. You are most welcome, Lisa. Yours has been a tortuous trick, I know. I don't understand it. That beggar, old fool, he said he was leading me. To the perfect place. The important thing is that you are here, Lisa. Come. Look through the windows. Mountains and valleys. Lakes and fields. Never seen anything like it. It is perfect. You are in the perfect place. Because you want to be here. You look the world over. You witness the struggle. You want it to be free of it. Am I? Am I dead? Do you feel dead? No. No, I don't. I feel confused. So much I don't understand. I have questions. You'll begin to see the answers for yourself. Once the processing has begun processing, there are things you must give up for perfection, Lisa. In the processing, these things will leave you. One of them is written in your expression now. Doubt. You cannot doubt perfection and have it too. And after that, you must give up fear and greed. Will you miss them, Lisa? No, of course not. There are other things, of course. Whenever you have questions, you will find me nearby to answer them. Do you have any more questions now? Then you are ready. Colton lives in the perfect place. You hesitate. Why? Well, I don't know. Surely there's nothing to fear from perfection. You would not think so. Would you, my son? I went out the door and down the path into the perfect place. Hesitation of fear grew less with each step. I turned a short distance away to wave back at zine, but the door I had walked through was gone, and the building, the window, no sign of zine. Somehow it seemed unimportant. I turned back to the path and walked ahead. Hello, my love. Hello? I am Angela. Hello, Angela. You are Lisa, and my love. I knew you would be here when I wanted you most. You... You were expecting me? You knew I would be here? I wanted you. Take my hand. We will walk together, won't we? I think we will, Angela. Oh, my love. Always will be a lovely time together. Perfectly lovely. Angela was all of beauty, all of woman. Grace and strength and delicacy. And she was always at my side as we walked the broad valleys of the perfect place. She was my love, and it was a perfect love. This land was all beauty. The people were all smiles. Every need was satisfied. There was love and abundance. Peace and perfection at every hand. And there was no struggle. No struggle about anything. After a time when I felt the need of a friend, I found one. My friend was Lar, Angela's brother. He loved to see he had a fine schooner for fishing. Angela tells me you enjoy fishing research. Name your fish, and I promise you both knows of it. Sounds wonderful. I have no preference for any fighting game fish. It's fine sport. The day is perfect. The wind is perfect. Everything we need is aboard. It's all very easy. It's good fish. For fishing we need wind and sea. And fish there to sea. And believe when the wind is failing. And this must be the spot. The best water. The best? We would not have stopped here if they were not the best. Nice arrangement. Well, where's the gear? The lines are out. It does fly. Go. See for yourself. It's a perfect albacore. Perfect. Practically jumped out of the deck. Every fish that found our lines fairly flopped into the schooner of its own volition. Laura promised me a boatload of fish. We had the one Angela medicine for the evening. And there had been no struggle. No effort even in lifting the great fish off the lines. It was phenomenal. And rather frightening. Some days later Angela suggested a deer hunt. And with Laura we walked through the beautiful countryside through fields toward the wooded hills. Look ahead, my love. That's your sight. Oh, yes. The first shot is yours, Richard. All right. You see that? Directly ahead. Perfect deer. Yes, I see. Perfect deer. 30 or 40 of them lined up like targets. Couldn't miss one if I tried. Fire, Richard. You wanted deer. I dare they are. No, Angela. Angela, listen to me. We haven't hunted for deer. Part of the thrill of hunting is to hunt itself. And then the finding of your game, matching your wits against his, and then if you win you've won something. Do you understand? But you said you wanted deer. And when we fished, you said you wanted fish. Now look, look. If I said I wanted to hunt bear instead of deer then all the bear I could shoot would be in the sights of my gun. That quail or dust of sky overhead has become black with them. Is that true? Yes. Yes, my love. That is all true. Yes. Yes, perfect. Like all things. No, but that isn't perfect. Can't I make you see? You and Lar, go on. Would you? I want to be alone a while. Of course, darling. That is perfectly all right with me. Perfectly. In no direction taught no place. Inside I was all fury and confusion something more. I don't know why, but I was reacting to the constant smiles of Angela and Lar with something like terror. And I stopped in Lannis but a cool green grass to rest and think and not think. What are your questions, Lisa? Zing. I said I'd be nearby to answer when you needed me. It's hard to question. I just find perfection difficult to understand. Do you doubt it? The perfection. No. No, I've seen and known many perfect things. You wanted assurance that there was no struggle here in the first place. You would see no struggle. Have you, Lisa? No. None. But you, you must see everything. The fish, the deer, they have no fighting and there's no sport, no challenge. You wanted no struggle. You cannot have both struggle and no struggle. You once berated existence as a thing men struggle through and died struggling to live. I know. Your processing will go on, Lisa. Step by step. It will go on. There will be no struggle. And you will realize that you cannot improve on perfection. When I turned to answer Zane, he was gone again. I knew he would be. He was gone. But that terror was still with me. There was goodness and kindness. There was plenty. Why did I fear it? What was his terror? My thoughts went to Angela. And so we were together again as if nothing other than perfection had passed between us. She took me into a village I hadn't seen before. The life there was simple. Is it not beautiful here, my love? Is not everything and everyone beautiful? Angela, what do all the people of this village do? Do? How do they live? Do they work? Are there jobs to do? Everyone does. What do you want? No, no. Who kills the fields and plants them? Who builds the homes? So many questions always, my love. And questions about the simplest of things. The few. One goes there when one wants something. And one finds it. The homes? Well, they're just here. What is to build a home? Nothing to be achieved because all things have been achieved. There's no work because all the work has been done. That sounds very well. Does it please you? Yes, I guess it does. Look, the men at the canvas is across the way. They're painting. Is that doing something? Well, let's have a look. Lovely painting. Perfectly lovely, are they? This one is quite a good landscape. And this one here. You'll look at this, Mrs. Perfectly lovely. But they're just the same. They're identical. Every flower, the tree, the hill. Just the same in color and size. Angela, three men painting pictures and they're each exactly like the others? Well, there is just one perfect landscape of this sort. How could it be otherwise? There is only one way to be, to do, to paint. And that is perfect. And there's just one perfect book because there's just one perfect way to set words down? Of course, my love. The perfect way. Oh, no, no, no. I wish Laura were here. Tell me, this perfection. Is it conformity? Angela, you wished me here. Laura, he's full of questions. Oh, just one question, Laura. Is perfection conformity? Must everyone think and do and act and write and paint in just one way? There is just one perfect way. Well, Zane didn't say I'd have to give up the things that make me me, that I couldn't work toward goals of achievement, that I must give up challenge in order to live in the perfect place. You are so different, research. Angela, what if I should leave you? What if Iowa no longer your love? Would that be all right with you? If that is what you wish. Perfectly all right, darling. Perfectly. You're crazy. Tucket ought to be here. You should see what I've seen. He'd like his head off at me. Tucket? Yeah. Yeah, someone who has a chance to work and dream and set goals for himself and make mistakes, honest mistakes, gambles to win or lose. He can take his chances. I think this Tucket must be a very strange man. And I think this is something that you've been wanting to do for a long time. What an odd gesture. I've never seen one man strike another before. All right, well, come on, get up. Let's make a good fight of it, huh? A perfect fight, come on. Your hand becomes a peculiar color. You won't fight back. You won't fight back because there's no struggle here. You mentioned this word struggle often. Is it a good word? Struggle? Yes. Yes, I think it is. And waves at me happily. The mountains surrounding the Great Valley were tall and steep, but I had to get through them or around them or over them somehow. I had to escape to the perfect place. Further questions, Reese? Just one, Zane. How do I get out of here? Get out. You want to leave the perfect place? Yeah, and I'm leaving, and you can't stop me. I would not try to stop you if you really want to go. Here, let me show you the way. Is there no trap? Well, there is one thing. Yes, if you go, you can never return. That's fine with me. In fact, that's perfect. You'll be going back to the struggle. This perfection, it's filthy, it's vicious, it's insidious somehow. You prefer the struggle then? To this? Yes. The struggle is wrong. It shouldn't have to be. But we'll work on it. Every succeeding generation, at least there's work to be done and the incentive is there to do it. Oh, brother, wait till I tell people about this perfect place. Yes, Reese. Tell them you found the perfect place. Tell them about the beauty, the perfection, about Angela and La and me. Tell them you were here, you saw it, that there's no struggle. Tell them you saw all this and ran with anyone. My lips formed an answer, but no words came. And then suddenly there was no zine and no perfect place. Only the rain beating on my face as I lay at the foot of a high wall and I felt the hard pain in my back. And I remembered it all, the beggar, berserker, the walled Arab town beyond. It couldn't have happened very long before. I couldn't have lain there long. And I remember that Tuckett was staying at the Hotel North Africa and I hurried there to it. Tuckett! Tuckett, open the door! What's all the racket about? I'm sorry, I was anxious to find you again. I got in a fight in the native quarter, it was a mistake. I've been lying wet and cold in some back alley for an hour or so and I... It's research, isn't it? What? Research. Well, of course! Don't you remember a dinner earlier this evening? Research, of course! Of course and I remember the dinner. I haven't seen you since, but after all I should remember it was only a year ago. The production of Norman MacDonald Escape has brought you the return by Kathleen Heitz, starring Lawrence Dubkin. Featured in the cast were Edgar Berrier and Gene Bass, with Paul Dubov, Tom McKee and Paul Freeze. Editorial supervision is by John Meston and the special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stephen. Next week. The murky waters of Louisiana by you while closing in on you coming towards you through the night is a lusting mouth screaming for your life. So listen next week when Escape brings you Jonathan Blaine's strange tale of adventure The Lou Garoo.