 You are alone in the dark forest and behind you somewhere is the werewolf waiting to drink your blood and you desperately desire the impossible to escape. Escape produced and directed by William N. Robson and carefully plotted to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to the backward world of Eastern Europe where ancient superstitions still live in the minds of men. Tonight we escape with Jeffrey Household's grim story, taboo. Among semi-civilized peoples there has always been widespread belief in werewolves. Those fantastic creatures supposedly able to turn from man or woman into wolf and back again at will. This belief is still widespread among the simple folk of Eastern Hungary and the district around Svajbergen high in the gloomy Carpathian mountains and I must admit not without some reason. Before the late war I often spent my vacations in that area drawn to the dark loneliness by the pool of my Slavic blood. It was the same with her perhaps and our kindred ancestry no doubt drew us together. Her name was Kira Vaughn and she was there with her husband, a pleasant young Englishman. They were obviously much in love and I felt almost like an intruder when I found myself the only other vacationer in the village. However, they made me welcome and invited me to dinner. It was an excellent dinner. Won't you have some more strawberries, Mr. Shirabi? Thank you, no, Mrs. Vaughn. I've eaten far too much already. I cannot say when I've had so excellent a dinner. Thank you. I'm sure I shall get nothing like it at the inn. I should hate to have to stay at the inn. You see Shirabi, if my wife is one of those delightful creatures who cannot stand to be shut in, she must run free preferably in the woods with her hair streaming in the wind. She's quite unusual. Indeed she is, my dear Vaughn. And you may count yourself most fortunate. No, I do, I do. Where else should I find so good a cook? Very true. I've never tasted venison quite like that tonight. Delightful. Thank you. Another of her little victories. She delights in outdoing the ordinary housewife. She disdains the village shop and gets her meat right off the hoof. Oh, you do your own hunting? Oh, dear, no. Not that. She's much too kindhearted and loving a person for that. She's found a new source. The district game warden brings fresh venison to our door. Oh, it's not he, but his son. True, the game warden's slightly moronic son, who is, I'm sure, in love with her. Oh, that's ridiculous. Not so. It's quite understandable. I'm beginning to fall in love with her myself. You see, my dear. Thank you, sir. Seriously, though, I can understand this wild desire to be free. This wish to, as you put it, run in the woods with the wind in your hair. It is some legacy of our Slavic blood, no doubt, yours and mine in the game warden's moronic son. Somehow we feel at home in these dark forests. Oh, you too. Yes. And I don't. I confess it, I don't. There's something here that frightens me, something strange and inhuman and taboo. Darling. I'll confess something, Kirovyev. I don't like Kirov to go out into these forests alone. Maybe I'm afraid that someday this emotional impulse of hers will get the better of her and she'll just disappear, like those two men last week. Oh? What was that? Have I missed some exciting happening? No, not really. Though you'd think so to hear the villagers talk, a fellow coming home through the woods after dark just disappeared. They got fed up with life here in the village and lit out for Budapest. And what about the other one? Oh, yes. Well, a search party went out the next day to look for the fellow. When they got back, they found one of their party was missing. Evidently, he'd taken the opportunity to skip out, too. Is that what you really think? Oh, why not, my dear? If those men had been done away with, it might have been by something supernatural. And there's no such thing. But might it not have been some wild animal? Oh, the bears around here are harmless and the wolves are not in peck. At any rate, there would have been some sign, some blood, track, something. There was nothing. They simply disappeared, vanished, skipped out. Richard, how can you be so careless? You see the paradox? My wife, who loves the woods, believes the fantastic tales of the villagers. I, who confess to finding the woods strange and frightening, do not believe them. Perhaps it is because you are frightened that you are afraid to believe them. What do the villagers say? Well, you know this district well enough. Talking of werewolves and such tomorrows, it's utterly fantastic. Yes, to you an Englishman, it would be. And it isn't to you? Fantastic, yes, I suppose. But perhaps Mrs. Vaughn and I, who feel at home in this forest, can understand and believe such fantasy a little more easily than you. Yes, I remember many times as a child. I dreamt of being an animal. I thought then that I would love it. The freedom of the forest. Exactly. That primitive instinct is so deep within us all. A heritage of some dim, distant past. In us slavs, it lies closer to the surface. Takes very little to bring it to light. Yes, it is true. Well, you've placed my wife in a new life, you ravioli. You'll have me suspecting her of changing into a wolf and running out to the forest to murder people. Oh, please, Vaughn. You take me too literally. And besides, it is a shame to spoil so delightful a dinner with so gloomy a conversation. Shall we go into the living room with the chair for fire in there? Oh, yes, sir. What is it, Peter? Beggle carbon, sir. But a message just came from the village. Oh, what is it? They want you and Mr. Sheraviev to come down there now. They're organizing another search party. What? Yes. There's another man missing. Kira, catch her, Sheraviev. She's fainted. It was only then I realized that these people were under a terrible tension. I was to learn very quickly that the whole village shared it. Every able-bodied man in the district was at the inn when we arrived. The magistrate explained the situation. Beggle, sir. He went into the forest late this afternoon, hoping to bag a black cock for his supper. A little after dusky, solitary shot was heard. That was three hours ago, and he is not returned. But only three hours? Isn't there a chance that he might still return? A chance, perhaps. But the other two did not. It will do no harm to search for him. We may still be in time to save his life. We searched most of the night, and then next morning, Vaughn and I went out again. We climbed to my favorite spot for hunting black cock, and then followed the trail down to the village, the trail the missing grocer would have taken. I was beginning to be a little exasperated at Vaughn. He seemed to be so casual and uninterested, as if he were convinced that this one too had merely skipped out. But I underestimated him. He was a skilled tracker, and suddenly he did show some interest. Wait a minute. Someone has turned aside from the path here. He was in a hurry. I wonder why. I think you are right. There are some broken branches. Why? Why here? It's hardly likely anyone would go plunging into that thicket unless he had a reason. Wait, wait. See that big white rock behind the thicket? When you are being followed, it's comforting to have a clear space around you. You'd feel safe up on top of that rock with a gun in your hands if you got there in time. You may be right. Let's go up. Trotto. We forced our way through the underbrush to the rock. It was 30 feet high on the down slope side, and a hot spring at the foot of it bubbled out of the cavity, scarcely two feet wide. We made our way up to the slope around it, and came out on top. There was nothing there except for some ivy in the cracks and one small, stunted tree. Aha. Look, look at that. Where? The tree. The entire base has been shattered by a charge at close quarters. Perhaps that was the shot that was heard. You're right. It must be. They say there is always a tree between you and it. What do you mean, it? They were wolf. Well, this must have been a baby one then. That mark is only six inches off the ground. No. I think the man's gun went off as he fell. Perhaps he was followed too close as he scrambled up. About here would be where his body would have fallen. Do you see anything? I don't. No blood stain. Wait, wait. Look, look here. Oh, but it's just a tiny spot. That's enough. It's blood, all right, and something more, a tiny bit of tissue. Let me see. Brain tissue. Must have come from a deep wound in the skull, made by something like an arrow or a bird's beak, or maybe even a sharp tooth. But where's the body? There is absolute and no other sign. No evidence of it's being dragged off anywhere. No, I can't see any either. It's very strange. But at least we know one thing, Von. This man did not just skip out. This man was dead or dying. When we brought our information back, the excitement of the village mounted. The peasants crossed themselves. And at the inn, the old tales were being told. That's our vice, the Game Warden talking now. And Yosef's vice, his son beside him. The Moronic son. Yes, the old man was a character too, listen. The biggest one my grandfather'd seen. And it followed him in the forest. Time after time, he met it a twilight outside his cabin. And time after time, he fired at it point blank. But he couldn't hurt it. Then he pounded a silver penguin and loaded his gun with it. One shot and the wolf disappeared. But next day, they found Heinrich the cobbler dying in his house with a beaten silver coin in his belly. Hulse, you believe such stupid talk. Yosef! My grandfather used to tell the same story. Only when he told it, it happened to his grandfather. Anyone can see it didn't happen at all. Such things can't happen. Yosef, you called your father a liar. I do. Well, far from being a moron, Yosef seems to have more sense than the others. Perhaps. Yosef, you're not afraid of this werewolf then, eh? I? No. Why not? The whole village is frightened. I'm used to walking alone in the woods at night. You've got to be a part of the forest. Then you'll not be afraid of it. You do believe in werewolves then, eh? I don't say a man can turn into a wolf, no. But I can understand why he'd want to. Hmm. You're serious again, Cherabyev. Yes. I think I understand that too, Yosef. But what does it feel like? It feels as if the woods had gone under your skin and you want to walk wild and crouch at the knees. Yes. I think he's perfectly right. And you explain it by some primitive urge? Possibly. There may be many reasons. Physical hunger could be one. We sometimes forget that man was once a fleet-footed hunting animal with all the necessary instincts. Hunger? Yes, we all know about it, about what it can do to a man. I've been trapped in a cliff for five days, I know. None of you have suffered hunger as we did in the prison camp during the war. None of you knows what it is that we do. Yosef, let's not talk about it. He gets so upset remembering. Well, we'll have to go on searching for the body and for the werewolf. You will not find it, not until you arm yourselves with silver bullets. Perhaps it is gone now, whatever it is. The search parties may have frightened it away. It wasn't frightened by the first search party. It simply took one of them. Now it is still here. And it will strike again. You may be sure of that. The whole village believed that Yosef Weiss was right. They traveled in the woods by tools now. No one went alone. For a weak village life was disrupted. The men beat the forest the women tried to comfort each other. Kira wore herself out trying to be useful. The village women could not help loving her. But there was something else, something strange. One day I spoke to Frida, the maid about it. Ah, yes, she is a strange one, Mr. Sharivia. Even I have seen her going out to walk alone in the woods at twilight. The women in the village think she is possessed. What do you mean possessed? I hesitate to say, sir. Come, tell me. They are beginning to say sometimes the werewolf can be a woman. At first the suggestion seemed so ridiculous to me that I hesitated to speak of it. But then I decided to tell Vaughn before this rumor could reach Kira herself. He was naturally much upset. That settles it, Sharivia. We've got to do something. Something, yes, but what? There's only one thing we can do. Track down this supposed werewolf. But that's what we've been trying to do for a week. How can we do it? It's really very simple. We'll offer him bait. Bait? Who will be this bait? You and I should have yet. If you're game. Right. Yes, of course, I'm game. Good. But how? Are you going to tie me to a tree and watch out with a gun? That's about right. Only we didn't tie you up. And since it was my idea, you can have first turn with the gun. Are you a good shot? Right. This is no time for false modesty. Yes, I'm a good shot. Very well. It'll be night, and we'll have to shoot with only the moonlight. Where do we go? To the rock? Exactly. And the sooner the better. Tonight? Tonight. And say nothing, absolutely nothing, to anybody, especially to Kira. I understand. This is between us. Either we win, or we simply disappear. It was difficult getting away without telling Kira what we were going to do. She seemed to sense that something was wrong, and she sat staring after us with strange, angry eyes. In the village, Vaughn and I parted and made our ways to the rock separately. I reached there first, and settled myself on top of the rock, almost covered by the ivy, the gun across my knees. Presently Vaughn appeared on the path, and I gave the signal that I was there and ready. The trek was set. In the eerie stillness of the dark forest, we waited. Vaughn paced slowly on the path. I kept the gun sight-trained, a yard in back of him as he walked. Minutes passed in silence. Hours went by. Nothing happened. It was almost midnight, the end of our vigil. Vaughn waved his hand and started off down the trail. He would go fast in case he was followed, taking a shortcut down an old timber slide. He'd be in the village in 10 minutes. I was to follow presently. Then suddenly I got an intense feeling of dread. I was alone on the rock. My spine tingled, and then I heard it a quick rustle in the ivy behind me. Something brushed my face. It was only a bird. A night bird had lit in the ivy, and our swooshed past me and flew away. My nerves were still tingling when I got back to the village. Next day when I went to see Vaughn, he gave me a warning glance. Kira was suspicious. I could see the question in her eyes when she greeted me. So here is the other culprit. Which of yours most are brave for keeping such late hours? Why, I suppose to keep peace in the family. I should say it is I. No, you can't get him off that easily. I'm the only culprit, my dear. You see, I've never hunted deer at night. I asked Shoravyev to help me. I suppose you shoot the poor things while they sleep. Oh, no, while they're having their dinner, if possible. You're cruel and heartless, both of you. It's no use letting her start an argument, Shoravyev. I'll go get us a drink. Oh, yes, thank you. I'd like that. Why do you look at me like that? Was the hunting good last night? No, not very. And we didn't get anything, as you see. I'm afraid you'll still have to depend upon yours for your venison. Where did you hunt? I simply in the forest, nowhere in particular. You're not telling me the truth, are you? My dear, I don't know what you're thinking, but I assure you. Never mind. I suppose it is best I don't know. But take care of him, please. Of course I will. If anything should happen to him. But what could happen? You know, you understand these things. That night, I was the bait. And I confess, walking there on the moonlit path, the dense undergrowth pressing close on both sides, the forest all around me, that I felt a strange terror. But nothing happened. Once a bear ambled across the path, paused, sniffed, and disappeared into the brush. Then a little later, I thought I saw a flicker of white in the clearing below. But it never reappeared, and I decided it must have been a ripple of grass in the moonlight. At midnight, we returned to the village, and I was beginning to wonder if our trap would ever be sprung. We must keep on, Shiraviev. I have a feeling that tomorrow night, perhaps, or the next night. I'm game as long as you are, but so far we've only lost sleep. I've got to keep on. Have you forgotten about Kira, the things they're saying about her? No, of course not. But surely these people would not do anything to her? It's not that. It's what it might do to her spirit. If she were to hear those insane rumors, she's so sensitive. I don't like to think about it. Then shall we go out again tomorrow night? Yes. You must come to dinner, though, first. Vice is bringing down more venison. Kira will want you to come. All right, till tomorrow night then. After dinner, we went out for our third night on the rock. Vaughn was the bait tonight, and I, the watcher. The forest was alive with sound. A deer coughed. The bear came ambling back as woolly and harmless as a dog. I was watching him when, suddenly, he paused and sniffed the air, and disappeared into the trees. The animal sounds quiet at one by one, and a tense stillness fell over the forest. My hand tightened on the gun, and suddenly, I saw it. That flicker of white moving fast through the trees. It was coming up the path toward Vaughn, a soft, bulky, white blur, coming surprisingly fast. Vaughn's back was turned. He did not see it. My finger tightened on the trigger. It was only a few yards away when he turned. Kira! I started to press the trigger. No, Sharaf, no! Richard! Kira, what are you doing here? Oh, darling, I was looking for you. I looked last night, too. Oh, Richard. Kira, you shouldn't have. It was foolish, terribly foolish. Richard, there was something after me. I know it. That's why I was running. Kira, you shouldn't be out here alone. But what about you? Where's Sharaf? He's up there on the rock, covering me with his rifle. I'm perfectly safe. I'll show you. I'll hold out my handkerchief like this. Now, Sharaf, put a hole in that. I stared for a moment at the white square of handkerchief, then at the white of her coat. My lips were dry. My finger felt numb on the trigger. Come on, Sharafie, the handkerchief. Please, God, don't let me miss. There, you see, my dear? I'm perfectly safe. They went down the path together, and I followed after a moment. A hundred yards from the timber slide, I knew I was being followed. Even before I heard something in the brush behind me, I stopped and turned around, moved past me, cutting off my retreat. Now I stood alone in terror, but it was still in the brush. If only I could make the timber slide. I got down safely. I went straight to Born. He came out of the house to talk to me. I told him what had happened. His reaction surprised me. Sharafie, if I'm sorry, I had to leave you up there to face it alone, but I had to bring her down. Of course, I know that. And you must believe this. She never left me. We came down together, arm in arm. We came straight down. You must believe that. But of course, why should I think differently? Then you must realize, whoever it was up there in the brush following you, it couldn't have been Kira. Good heavens, Von. Do you think I believe that preposterous story? Well, didn't you? Even up there on the rock, when you hesitated about firing at the handkerchief, didn't you believe it might be Kira? No. Why, no, of course not. But I did. Von knew my thoughts almost better than I knew them myself. Yes, that was why my lips were dry and my finger numb when I pressed the trigger. I had refused to admit it even to myself. And now was I sure, even now, that night Von was excited. We're going to get it tonight. After last night, it'll be there waiting for us. Yes, I think you're right. But if you are, we wouldn't want anyone else to come walking in on us. It might cause confusion. Don't worry. Kira has promised to stay at home. She says we're doing our duty, and she won't interfere. Do you think this is our duty? No. Neither do I. I never feel that anything I enjoy can be my duty. And now I really enjoy this. Tonight, I'd like to be the bait. No, it's my turn. I won't give it up. Besides, if it's revenge, you want you have the gun. Let's so. All right then. Tonight, you will be the bait. That night, for the first time, I regretted ever getting into this mess. As I paced up and down the path, my nervousness grew. Tonight, it would surely come. I felt it. But would Von shoot straight and quick enough. The hours went by. Clouds kept scudding over the moon, leaving me in deep darkness for minutes at a time. I was really beginning to be frightened. Then a fraction of a second before it happened, I knew it was coming. There was a hot breath on my neck, a crushing weight on my shoulder, something hard against my skull, and a crack of Von. Von! Von! Von! Shiraviev, are you all right? Yes, I think so. What was it? A man, a wingman. Come on. I'm going in after him. All right. I'm coming. Von! Where did he go? I can hardly believe it. But he went right into this hot spring under the rock. But there's hardly opening enough for a rabbi. He went under the water. Come on. Wait, Von. I'm coming with you. We plunged into the spring, wriggling our way forward, not knowing what to expect. Von held the rifle high above the water, but there wasn't room enough for our heads. We had to hold our breath and plunge forward. Luckily, there was only a few feet. I emerged and took a breath. Then I heard Von firing. Got him! Where? Shine the flashlight. There! At the other side of the cave. Yes. Who would have thought there would be a cave here? Oh, that anyone who could have gotten through that spring. It was a perfect hiding place. Yes. There's him. No good now. Turn him over. Let's see who our werewolf is. Yes. Why? It's Weiss. Josef Weiss, the Game Warden's son. Why didn't we think of that? We all knew he was not quite sane. More than that, he almost told us. Remember, he said, I do not believe a man can turn himself into a wolf. But I know why he'd want to. Yes. And he described the feeling to walk wild and crouch at the knees. He knew that feeling. He knew it too well. Beside Josef Weiss, we found the murder weapon. It was a patented animal killer, a heavy iron muzzle that gripped the scalp, a heavy spike that was released by a spring. His hiding place was even more perfect than we had supposed. When the magistrate investigated, he found a passage from that cave which led underground for more than a mile, and finally to the Game Warden's house where a ladder led into his cellar. Undoubtedly Weiss found that dry underground river one day and realized he could use it. Perhaps that is what caused his mind to snap. Yes. It released a long pent-up spring in him, like that weapon he used. He saw that he could run in the woods like an animal, disappearing and reappearing with perfect safety. And so your theory proved correct that there's a murderous, primitive instinct lurking in some people. Yes. Well, it's all explained excepting what he did with the bodies. It would serve no useful purpose to speculate on that now. Yes. I suppose you're right. Kira, you haven't said anything. Why did you have to shoot him? Kira, he was a murderer. He tried to murder Shiravyev. Is it murder when a wolf kills a dumb animal frightened of intruders? Kira. You understand what I mean, don't you, Shiravyev? You understood that night when you shot the handkerchief, just as I have. It might have happened to any of us, you see. Kira, what do you mean? Take me away from here, Richard. Just take me away quickly. Escape is produced and directed by William N. Robson. And tonight brought to you taboo by Jeffrey Household. Adapted for radio by John Dunkel with Paul Frieza, Shiravyev. Marta Mitrovich as Kira and Morgan Farley as Vaughn. The special musical score was conceived and conducted by Sy Fuhr. Next week. You were standing on a bridge over Owl Creek with a noose around your neck. You have only a few seconds left to live. A few seconds left to plan your escape. Next week we escape with Ambrose Beers' famous story on occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge. Good night then until the same time next week when we again offer you Escape. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.