Twilight Zone The Movie Read Free Page A

his forehead. Someone was coming but there was no place to hide. He stood there, trapped.
    Then footsteps faded and he heard the creak of a door opening and closing somewhere above.
    Bill waited for a moment, giddy with the wave of pain that pulsed through his left arm. He strained to listen, but no further sound broke the silence.
    Slowly he continued his climb. When he reached the landing above, he halted again, glancing from left to right along the small hallway. There were doors at either end. From behind the one at his right, he heard the faint and muffled murmur of conversation. Moving toward it, he could make out the source of the sound more clearly—a woman’s voice, speaking French.
    Bill couldn’t tell what she was saying. The mere fact that she was French and female was enough of a relief to determine his decision.
    Slowly, he pushed the door open and entered the room beyond.
    He found himself standing in the confines of a shabby kitchen, illuminated by the light from a single bare bulb dangling on a cord above a table. Seated around it were three small children who now glanced up from their supper in surprise as he appeared. Standing before the wood stove at one side was a middle-aged woman, obviously their mother. Her dress was drab, her hair disheveled, her eyes widened in surprise.
    Bill turned to her, his own eyes pleading. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
    The mother made no reply. The children stared at him silently; then, in response to the woman’s gesture they rose from their seats and moved toward her. The mother stepped before them as they huddled behind her for protection.
    “Please—you’ve got to help me,” Bill murmured. “I’ve been shot.”
    The woman gave him a puzzled glance, then her eyes darted toward the small window at the far corner of the room as the sound of sirens wailed up from the streets below.
    Bill’s voice rose, trying to drown them out. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s like I’m in a dream or something—”
    The woman wasn’t listening to him. But now as the screech of the sirens grew louder, her face firmed in sudden decision. In three quick steps she was at the window—raising it—leaning out—shouting down into the street below.
    Her words were in French but Bill understood them all too clearly.
    “Aidez-nous!” she screamed. “Il est ici! Le Juif est ici!”
    Bill took a step forward. “Please—don’t let them find me—”
    His voice was lost in the sound of her screaming. “Le Juif que vous cherchez est ici! En haut!”
    Bill turned and the children cowered, gazing up at him in fright, but their fear was nothing compared to his own as he heard the answering voices shouting up from the street below and the drumming of running feet against the pavement.
    He lurched through the opened doorway to the landing beyond. Staring down, he saw the door burst open at the foot of the stairs. A uniformed man glanced up, meeting his startled gaze, then turned to call out to his companion. His language was German.
    “Das ist er.”
    A rush of footsteps and a babble of voices rose in answer. As soldiers began pouring through the doorway of the landing below, Bill turned and raced back into the kitchen.
    Slamming the door, he barred it from the inside. Behind him the woman screamed again and the children started to cry. Bill ignored them, moving to the window and staring out at the drop below. The street was temporarily deserted but he couldn’t chance jumping—at this height the fall could be fatal.
    Now the room resounded with frantic echoes as the soldiers began pounding on the door.
    There was a sudden crash as one of the upper panels splintered under the impact of a rifle butt.
    Bill reached out with his good arm, finding and grasping the cornice above the window. Firming his grip, he swung out and pulled himself upward, his feet braced against the side of the window frame.
    Exerting all his strength, he clung to the