 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 standing at the entrance of a walled Arab town. While behind you, coming slowly through the night are the shuffling 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. The freighter Menlo crept slowly through the breakwater of the outer harbour. Most of the twelve passengers were on deck, looking north beyond the converging jetties to the modern city of Bezerda. But two of us, a man named Tuckett and myself, Bezerdo 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 looked for something all over the world without success. I'd looked everywhere except Bezerda. I sure I checked into the small hotel and a short time later I was part of the early evening crowd on the streets. There you go. My shelly, my shelly thing. Sure. Can you tell me how to get to the Arab town? Oh, sorry, I didn't notice about your eyes. One does not need eyes to perceive truth, Defendi. No, I suppose not. What's your name? Niga. The Arab town is north, due north of here. And the truth is everywhere for all to see if they will but see. I hope you're right. Well, bye Niga. Bye, Niga. It is Mr. Easer, isn't it? Oh, Tuckett, I lost track of you when we came ashore. Thought I'd find you again at the hotel but they tell me you're not registered. Where are you staying? 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. But if I do, they can catch up with me there, don't you think? Yes, I guess they can. My words hadn't meant much more to me than they did to Tuckett. I tried to explain during dinner. Maybe it was the wine that was talking, maybe me. Either way, Tuckett seemed interested enough to ask a question. Have you any idea what you're looking for, Riser? I'm looking for a place where there's no struggle. No struggle for you? For anyone. I'm forty years old, Tuckett. And for a little over half my lifetime I've traveled the world. Worked my way. Worked the sea and the earth. I tell you, there's only one thing that's universal and that's the struggle. 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 licked pneumonia, they found cancer waiting for them. They inoculate for smallpox and they find bubonic plague. For every achievement there's a new struggle waiting. And I wonder if that's progress, Tuckett. Well, I don't know. I never thought of it this way. They'll take food, clothing and shelter. They're basic needs. Some parts of the world people don't have them. But even when they do, there are biggest 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, another one's being fed and made strong. And it never ends until you die struggling to live. Yeah. Yeah. It's 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 the struggle, I guess. I'm opening an import-export business, small and I'm sure full of struggle. But I'm not cynical about it or disillusioned yet. Well, I don't feel cynical, Tuckett. I'm just short on hope because I don't see any end in sight. Research. What would you change if it were up to you? The struggle. Show me the place where there's no struggle. That's where I want to be. I wonder what it would be like. If you find it, let me know, will you? If I can, I will. I promised I'd get in touch with Tuckett in a few days, but as 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 passed no one, and yet I knew I was not alone. Someone was following behind me. Soon I heard his footsteps at my side. We are almost there, Efendi. Lager, you're walking without your cane to lead you. I am come to lead you, Efendi. Where? Through the wall ahead. Your words have been heard, Efendi. You are ready? Ready for what? You have said. Show me the place where there is no struggle. How do you know what I've said? You have asked enough questions of life, Efendi. Come, we go through the wall. Oh, you're out of your mind. Look about you, Efendi, on all sides there are walls. You have come too far to go back. What are you talking about? I can't go back. You have said the words. Show me the place. Through the wall ahead is the perfect place. I will lead you. Oh, 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 is useless. I said let go of me, you filthy... I had swung at mega with all the force in me only to find myself flattened against the wall. Did I slip on the wet pavement or trip? I don't know. That was no imaginary wall I had hit. I felt the hard pain of it and the rain beating against my face. And then it was over. The room in which I awakened was large. Large and empty with great windows at the far end bright sunlight streaming through them. There was 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. You were a long time coming, Rhysa. 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. I've never seen you before. I am called Zeen. You are most welcome, Rhysa. Yours has been a tortuous trip, I know. I don't understand that beggar, old fool. He said he was leading me to the perfect place. The important thing is that you are here, Rhysa. Come. Look through the windows. This is beautiful. Mountains, valleys, lakes, fields. I've 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 dead? Do you feel dead? No. No, I don't. I feel confused. There is so much I don't understand. I have questions. You will begin to see the answers for yourself once the processing has begun. Processing? There are things you must give up for perfection, Rhysa. 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, Rhysa? No, 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? No. Then you are ready. Go on, my son. Go out and live in the perfect place. You hesitate. Why? I don't know. Surely there is nothing to fear from perfection. You would not think so, would you, my son? I went out the door, down the path, into the perfect place. The 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 and the window, and there was no sign of zine, but somehow it seemed unimportant. I turned back to the path and walked ahead. Hello, my love. Hello. I am Angela. Angela. You are Rhysa and my love. I knew you would be here when I wanted you most. You were expecting me? You knew I would be here. I wanted you. Oh. Take my hand. We will walk together, won't we? I think we will, Angela. Oh, my love. Ours will be a lovely time together. Perfectly lovely. You are listening to The Return, tonight's presentation on Escape. Next Sunday evening, Lionel Barrymore will again be here on most of these same stations as your host on the Radio Hall of Fame. Remember to hear Lionel Barrymore next Sunday on CBS Radio. And now, Escape and the second act of The Return. Angela was all of beauty, all of woman. She was 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. The land was all beauty. The people were all smiles. Every need was satisfied. There was love and abundance. Peace and perfection was at every hand. And there was no struggle. No struggle about anything. After a time when I felt the need of a friend, a friend appeared. He was Lar, Angela's brother. Lar loved the sea and he had a fine schooner for fishing. Angela tells me you enjoy fishing, Reser. Name your fish and I promise you boatloads of it. That sounds wonderful. I have no preference. Any fighting game fish is fine sport. The day is perfect. The wind is perfect. The only thing we need is a buoy. It's all very easy, isn't it? It is as it should be. For fishing we need wind and sail and sea and fish. So we have them. Hard to believe. It's there to see and believe. The wind is failing. Then this must be the spot. The best waters. We would not have stopped here if they were not the best. A nice arrangement. Well, where's the gear? The lines are out. They are just right. Go see for yourself. It's a strike, Lar. It's like you're in a starboard line. Pull him in, Reser. He's all yours. It's albacore. And a giant. He stopped fighting. There's no fight in him. Pull him in, Reser. Perfect. I never saw a fish give in so quickly. Practically jumped onto the deck. And it kept on that way. All day, every fish that found our lines fairly flopped into the schooner of its own volition. Lar had promised me a boatload of fish and we had him when Angela met us in port at evening. 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. With Lar, we walked through the beautiful countryside through fields toward the wooded hills. Look ahead, my love. Set your sights. Oh, yes. The first shot is yours, Reser. All right. The sea love, directly ahead. Perfect deer. Yes, I see. Perfect deer. 30 or 40 of them all lined up as targets. Couldn't miss one if I tried. Fire, Reser. Oh, I can't. You wanted deer. Oh, there they are. Angela, listen to me. Don't you see? We haven't hunted for deer. A part of the thrill of hunting is the hunted self and then the finding of your game and matching your wits against his. If you win, then you've won something. But you said you wanted deer. And when we fished, you said you wanted fish. Look, if I had said I wanted to hunt bears instead of deer, then all the bear I could shoot would be in the sights of my gun. Or if I'd said quail or duck, the sky overhead had been black with them. Is that true? Yes, my love. That is all true. Yes, perfect. Like all things. Oh, but that isn't perfect. Can't I make you see that? You and La, would you just go on a little? Would you? I want to be alone a while. Of course, darling. It's perfectly all right with me. Perfectly. Perfectly. I turned then and I walked in no direction, toward no place. Inside, I was all fury and confusion and something more. I didn't know why, but I was reacting to the constant smiles of Angela and La with something like terror. And then I stopped and lay on a spot of cool green grass to rest and think and not think. What are your questions, Risa? Zine. I said I'd be a 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, I've seen and known many perfect things here. You wanted assurance there was no struggle here in the perfect place. You have seen no struggle, have you, Risa? No, none. But now you must see everything. The fish, the deer, they have no fight in them. There's no sport, there's no challenge. You wanted no struggle. You cannot have both struggle and no struggle. You once berated existence as a thing men struggled through and died struggling to live. I know. Your processing will go on, Risa. But by step it will go on. There will be no struggle and you will realize that you cannot improve on perfection. And when I turned to answer Zine, he was gone again as I knew he would be. He was gone but the terror was still with me. There was goodness and kindness, there was plenty. Why did I fear it? What was its terror? My thoughts went to Angela and soon we were together again as if nothing other than perfection had passed between us. She took me into a village I had not seen. The life there was simple but perfect. Is it not beautiful here, my love? Is not everything and everyone beautiful? Angela, what do all the people of the village do? Do? How do they live? Do they work? Are there jobs to do? Everyone does what he wants. Who tills the fields and plants them? Who builds the homes? So many questions always, my love. And questions about the simplest of things. The field. One goes there when one wants something and one finds it. The homes? They're just here. Nothing to be achieved because all things have been achieved. There is 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 canvases across the way. They're painting. Is that doing something? Oh, let's have a look. Lovely painting. Perfectly lovely, are they not? Oh, this one's quite a good landscape. And this one here. Do look at this one, Lisa. You see? Perfectly lovely. They're just the same. They're identical. Every flower, the tree, the hill, just the same in color and size. Angela. What is it, darling? Three men painting pictures and each picture is exactly like the others. 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. I wish Laura were here. Tell me this, this is this perfection. Is it conformity? Angela, you wished me here. Laura, it's full of questions. 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. Oh, no, Zine didn't say I'd have to give up all the things that make me, me, or that I couldn't work toward goals of achievement or that I must give up challenge in order to live in the perfect place. You are so different, Racer. Angela. What if I should leave you? What if I were no longer your love would that be all right with you? If that is what you wish. Perfectly all right, darling. Perfectly. Oh, you're crazy. Oh, he should see what I've seen. He'd laugh his head off at me. Tuckett? Yeah, Tuckett. Someone with a chance to work and dream and set goals for himself and make mistakes, honest mistakes and gamble to win or lose, he can take his chances. I think this Tuckett must be a very strange man. And I think this is something I've been wanting to do for a long time. What an odd gesture. I've never seen one man strike another before. Come on, Loc, get up. Let's make a good fight of it. Let's make a perfect fight. 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? Yeah. I think it is. They were smiling when I left. The whole village was smiling broadly and they waved at me happily. I ran and I walked and I ran again. The mountains surrounding the Great Valley were tall and steep. I had to get through or around or over them somehow. I had to escape the perfect place. You have further questions, Lisa. Just one, Zane. How do I get out of here? Get out. You want to leave the perfect place? Yes, and I am leaving and you can't stop me. I would not try to stop you if you really want to go. I will show you the way. This is no trap? No. There is one thing. 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 is filthy. It's vicious in cities. Yes. The struggle is wrong. It shouldn't have to be. But we'll work on it. In 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, Lisa. Tell them you found the perfect place. Tell them about the beauty, the perfection, about Angela, and me. Tell them you were here and you saw it. But there's no struggle. Tell them you saw all this and ran. Will anyone believe you? My lips formed an answer, but no words came. And 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. I felt the hard pain in my back. Then I remembered it all. The beggar, the bazaar, the walled Arab town beyond. Couldn't have happened very long before. Couldn't have lain there long. Now, remember that Tuckett was staying at the Hotel North Africa and I hurried there to him. Tuckett! Tuckett, open the door! Tuckett! What are you talking about? I'm sorry. I was anxious to find you again. I got in a fight down in the native quarter, which was a mistake because I've been lying wet and cold in some back alley for an hour or so. Why, it's research, isn't it? What? Well, of course, man. Oh, look, don't you remember at dinner earlier this evening? Research, of course, of course. And I remember the dinner. I haven't seen you since, but I'll see you tomorrow. Under the direction of Norman McDonnell, Escape has brought you the return by Kathleen Hype, starring Lauren Stodkin. Featured in the cast were Edgar Berrier, Paul Dubov, Gene Bates, Howard Culver, and Lou Krugman. Here, announcer, George Walsh. The special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week. You are alone in a world of decay and desolation, looking down on what was once a great city. While coming slowly to meet you, a hand stretched out and greeting to you is a beautiful girl whose very existence may be the cause of your death. So listen next week when Escape brings you Jack London's classic novel, The Scarlet Play. Tonight's program was transcribed. The little red school house of bygone days was something to be proud of, but in many parts of the country today is the only school house. Too little to house its students, its equipment outdated and inadequate, its teachers too few and underpaid. If your schools are like that, act with others in your community before the cost of repair and replacement gets astronomical. Act now in the interest of Tomorrow's America. You hear America's favorite shows on the CBS Radio Network.