And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tonight, we bring you a story of a pet cat and the fear it carried with it.
We call it Black Death.
So now, starring Mr. Edgar Barrier, here is tonight's suspense play, Black Death.
Music
April 3rd. Remember what you did that day? It was a Saturday, so maybe you weren't working.
The air held that first promise of spring, so you probably felt the urge to go outside, maybe to the park.
If you did, chances are you brushed against death. Black, unpredictable, anonymous death.
Listen.
Yes, it's a cat. We called him Cherry.
Just a tomcat, color black, disposition friendly, usually. Not too good as a mouser, no real need for it.
You see, Jerry gets pretty well fed where he lives.
And what mice we have there in the biological institute wouldn't be very healthy for Jerry.
They were likely as not to be inoculated with anthrax, typhoid, rabies, cholera, typhus, or plague.
We were doing special work with plague at the institute, studying and manipulating the deadly Pastorella pestis,
the rod-like germ of the Black Death.
I blame myself, of course. I should have known about Jerry.
As director, it is my business to know everything about the biological institute,
to keep track of the last submicroscopic bacillus and spore in the smallest test tube.
But that morning, I didn't know about Jerry.
I was home. I had just finished breakfast, and Patty, as usual, was flitting about me.
A pocket full of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
Where did you learn that song, Patty?
It's a game. The kids in the park play it. Why, Daddy?
I didn't answer her. How could I tell Patty the harmless nursery rhyme had its horrible origin among the victims of the great plague of London?
In their desperation, they hoped the smell of flowers might ward off the deadly miasma.
It didn't help, of course. Posy or no, they coughed their lives away.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
We did fall down by the uncounted thousands, never to rise again.
Don't forget, Daddy, you promised.
Promised? What did I promise now?
To take me with you to the office. You remember?
I said if it was all right with Mother.
Oh, I asked Mama. And first she said no, because she always worries about the germs.
Then I told her you said the institute is the safest place in town, because every germ is under a lock and a key. So she said all right.
All right, you little minx. You win.
Patty, now I'll get to play with Jerry.
I'll get it, dear. Hello?
Dr. Gephardt.
Oh, hello, Mac.
Dr. Gephardt. Dr. Gephardt, I think I've got it.
Got it? What's the matter, Mac?
Plague.
No, that's impossible.
All the symptoms. There's a leak somewhere. Hurry, Doctor.
I'll be right down.
I'm already, Daddy.
Not today, Patty.
But, Daddy.
Not today, I said. I'm sorry.
But you promised, Daddy, and I wanted to play with Jerry.
Mac was waiting for me in my office. It took only a moment to see that it was true.
The characteristic expression of fear and anxiety. His skin hot and dry. The hacking cough.
Am I glad to see you?
Oh, Mac, Mac, what are you doing up? Have you treated yourself?
Yes, but it's advanced pretty far. Don't get near me.
How on earth did this happen?
Slipped up somewhere. Yesterday I had chills, headache, dizzy. Thought it was something I didn't pay any attention to.
All right, all right. Enough of that. Now you get into bed.
No, not until we locate the leak. The guinea pigs, the cage over there.
No, it can't be. Not one of those animals is a pastorella. There must be something else.
Now get away, Jerry. Mac, you're sure you didn't work with some others? Those mice, maybe?
I'm positive.
Oh, that fool cat. Let me get him out of here. Now come on, Jerry. Outside.
Careful, doctor. He's been funny lately. He scratched me the other day.
What did you say, Mac?
I said, Jerry. Jerry scratched me, doctor. That's what...
He lay there, writhing on the floor. And then he was gone.
Once the deadly bacillus took hold of his lungs and his blood, our miracle drugs were no more effective than the poses of those ancient, terrified Londoners.
But I wasn't thinking of that. I was looking at the long, ugly, inflamed scratches on his arm.
Jerry. It didn't seem possible, yet there was the proof.
Somehow, Jerry had picked up the infection, which could happen a hundred ways, and passed it on to Mac. And Jerry was outside somewhere, in the streets, in the unsuspecting city, sick, unpredictable, with death in every one of his claws.
And I had sent him out there. I ran outside, but the earth had swallowed Jerry up.
The police. I needed the police. But I had to handle this carefully. Very carefully.
If it got out, if all these people learned of the black killer stalking among them, there would be panic.
No, no, they mustn't know. I had to see the chief of police. Immediately.
I'm sorry, mister, but the chief's a busy man. You tell me who you are and what's your business.
All I am asking is to open that door, get the chief on the phone, anything. This is absolutely vital, I tell you. The whole city.
Yeah, yeah, I understand.
Chief. Chief Williams.
Now look, you don't want to get into trouble.
Hey, Chubby, what goes on here?
There's no story in this for you, Ryan. Just a nut thinks he's going to see the chief.
I've got to see him.
Hey, hold it, hold it. Wait a minute. I've covered some of your lectures. Your doctor...
Gibhart, Gibhart, you know me. Tell him.
He works at the Biological Institute, Chubby. Got a story for me, doctor? Something hot, maybe?
I've got to see the chief. Can you make this man understand?
Yeah, sure, sure. Let him in, Chubby. He's all right. I'll vouch for him.
You'll vouch for him. That's a laugh. If I let him in there, it's my job.
If you don't let him in, it's your job, brother.
Yes.
There's a Dr. Gibhart to see you. Says it's urgent.
Gibhart? All right, send him in.
Yes, sir.
That door right there, doctor. I'm sorry. I didn't have any way of knowing...
I tell you, chief, that cat has got to be found, even if it takes every man in the department to do it.
Well, that's just fine, doctor. Have you any idea just how many black cats of that description are at large in a city of this size?
It doesn't make any difference. We were working with plague bacillus in its purest form at the Institute.
That cat is capable of infecting any human, any animal he scratches.
Doctor, are you sure of this?
My assistant just died. That's how sure.
All right. Emergency alarm, disaster level. All leaves canceled. Alert every available man for orders.
Transmit to fire department, highway patrol, county sheriff's office, state and federal agencies.
Already, sir.
I hand black cat, male, answers to name of Jerry.
Repeat, shoot on sight, but do not approach or touch the cat dead or alive.
Report in location immediately on contact and stand by for decontamination squad.
Then we'll requisition all available streptomycin, sulfidazine, penicillin.
Alert medical staffs of all city hospitals to prepare for treatment of the plague.
No, no, don't say that.
What?
Don't use the word plague. Once it gets out, what we're after, the whole city will let go and panic.
Yes, I agree with you, doctor, but these alarms go only to the law enforcement bodies.
As soon as I can get the machinery going, I'll warn the newspapers to clamp the lid on it.
They'll do it?
Sure, they'll all play ball. I accept maybe the tabloid.
The tabloid?
What's the matter?
I'll be right back.
Officer, where's that man who was here before?
Ryan, I don't know. He listened about half the chief's order and then he beat it out of here.
I remembered where I had seen Ryan before. He was a reporter on the tabloid.
A year ago he'd broken off the record statement of mine, caused no end of trouble.
He had recognized me just now, and he had heard enough of the chief's orders to put two and two together.
I had to catch him before there was a bank of phone booths ahead.
I scanned the glass doors until I saw his form hunched inside.
It's the plague. A cat's got it.
Of course I'm sure I even know the cat. I've seen him in the Institute.
A black to... Oh, hello, Dr. Gebhardt. Hey, hold it, Bill. Here's Dr. Gebhardt.
Maybe he'll give us a direct statement.
How about it, Doctor? What's the latest on the plague situation?
The latest is you're going to kill that story and kill it quick.
Why? It's true, isn't it?
Look, you can't let this out. Do you realize what it means if that news breaks on this city?
The hospitals will be swamped with panic-stricken people.
There won't be men or equipment or time to take care of the real victims.
Oh, what an angle. Hey, Bill, get this.
Stake out photographers in all the hospitals and watch for the fireworks.
Oh, wait. You've got to call this off.
Read it in your daily tabloid, Doctor. Plague Strikes City.
You dirty... Go ahead. Hit me.
The tab gives us a bonus if we're socked in the line of duty.
You're an addict.
You are listening to Black Death,
tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tomorrow evening, exclusive on CBS Radio for the ninth straight year,
Hear the Hamiltonian, the greatest event in the world of harness racing.
Coming to you direct from Good Time Track in historic Goshen, New York,
the Hamiltonian is this season's climax in harness racing,
matching the best trotters in the Grand Circuit.
CBS Radio's John Deer provides color and comment.
Charles Hinkle, official announcer for Grand Circuit trotting events,
is your reporter.
Tomorrow evening on most of these stations, a CBS Radio sports exclusive.
Hear the Hamiltonian start to finish.
And now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Mr. Edgar Barrier,
starring in tonight's production, Black Death,
a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Five minutes after the tabloid hit the streets,
the lines were jammed with frightened calls from anybody who had ever seen
or imagined a black cat, and we had to investigate them all.
There was no way around that.
Let me through, please.
Officer, where is the cat?
This way, doctor.
There, there he is.
I've got him cornered in that area away.
Couldn't reach him to shoot.
Watch your step, doctor. He's mean.
No, don't worry. I'm not going any closer without my mask and gloves.
All right, officer. Keep your gun ready.
Yes, sir.
No, it's not Jerry.
This is the 18th false alarm we've chased down in the last two hours.
Call the animal shelter, officer.
Chief Williams was right about one thing.
I had no idea how many black cats could be loose in a city the size of ours.
It was late afternoon when the alarms stopped coming in faster than we could take care of them,
and then I got back to the chief's office, tired, with a feeling of hopelessness.
Every substation, every hospital, every doctor's office in town, it's the same.
You'd never believe so many people could get bitten, scratched, mauled, or kissed by cats in a single day, or think they did.
Every blood test?
Every last one negative so far.
Thank heaven for that, anyway.
I don't know. We're going to have to find one victim anyhow, or we'll never get a line on that cat.
Now, come over here, doctor. Let's look at this map.
I followed Chief Williams to the big wall map.
Inside the perimeter of the circle that stretched a mile in every direction from its center at the Institute,
colored pins dotted sector after sector as the area was slowly, painstakingly mopped up by peace officers with drawn guns.
It was like war. It was war.
War without quarter against a single enemy more dangerous than a battalion of soldiers.
Slowly, the cordon narrowing in around Jerry, compressing him into a smaller and smaller space.
Chief?
Yes?
Dr. Gilbert's wife is calling again.
Oh?
Oh, yes, doctor. I'm sorry. She's been trying to get you all day. Here, you can take the call here.
Oh, thanks.
Hello, darling.
Yes, yes, I know. No, we haven't caught him yet, but don't worry about it.
What?
Oh?
Good, good. Switch all the men you can to the park. That's right.
Well, I suppose she's safe enough there, darling.
I don't want him to slip through again.
You'd better get her inside. Don't take any chances.
Dr. Gephardt?
Yes? I've got to go now, Ella. Yes, of course I'll be careful.
Dr. Gephardt?
You watch out for Patty. Goodbye.
Yes, Chief? What is it?
It's a break, doctor. Your cat's pinned down. We'll get him now.
Oh, thank heaven. Where?
In Washington Park.
Where?
I've thrown an airtight cordon around the park and given shooting orders. It's only a matter of time now.
Washington Park? Are you sure?
Yes. We got a positive blood test. A woman was picnicking in the park.
She petted and fed her cat and he scratched her. The blood test was...
What? What's the matter, doctor?
Patty, my little girl is in Washington Park.
What?
Yes, she's been playing there all afternoon. My wife just told me.
I should have been glad, I suppose. It was the first real break we'd had all day, pointing directly to Jerry.
But all I could think of was my daughter. But soon it would be dark.
And then Jerry would be nothing but two shining coals of eyes, hungry and erratic, invisible, as the virus of death he carried in his own dying body.
It was then, I think, I first thought of Jerry as what he really was. Death. Black death.
The police had herded all the people caught by the dragnet into a corner of the park.
Then I had shots. The clean-up squad was going through the park with drawn guns, systematically killing all living things that could spread the plague.
But shots go wild. Patty... Patty was somewhere out there.
What are you doing here? Can't you civilians follow orders? You belong back there with the others.
I'm Dr. Gebhart. You've got to stop shooting.
Don't tell me what I've got to do. I've got my orders.
That's all right, officer. I'll take over here.
Oh, yes, sir.
Have you seen a little girl? About eight. Long brown hair.
Well, there's lots of kids there with the others. We heard of them all over by the picnic tables.
No, no, she's not there. I looked.
Then I'll guarantee she ain't in the park. We covered every inch of the place, going down to the water on all sides of the lake.
What about that island?
Mister, can you imagine a cat getting out of that island? A cat?
Well, there's a bridge, isn't there?
I know cats, mister. No cat's going to cross water if he can help it. Bridge and no bridge.
Are you idiot? He could be carried, couldn't he? And it's the last possible place.
Officer, your orders were to mop up this park, all of it, not to use your own judgment about the habits of cats.
Yes, sir.
I ran over the bridge, the little island in the middle of the lake, so I deleted peaceful by day, now looked in the darkening shadows like a silent, waiting jungle.
It was the one last place that Jerry could be.
At the chief's orders, we spread out five yards apart, then started across the island.
We were like jungle beaters, driving warily ahead, leaving no single inch of ground or bush or tree unexplored.
It was dark now. I could not see the others.
Except for the trample of their feet on the twigs and the fitful play of the officer's flashlights, I might have been alone on this island.
Alone with death.
The windows of the tall apartment surrounding the park lights went on and off in a haphazard pattern.
One of those lights should have been my own.
Only I knew my wife was pressed anxiously against the police cordon that kept her out of the park.
And Patty, my own little girl...
Oh, you bad man! You tried to kill my kitty!
Patty!
You tried to kill my kitty!
Patty! Patty!
What happened? What happened? Did you get him?
Chief, I saw the eyes shining in the dark. I didn't know there was a kid there.
Patty! Patty, are you hurt?
Where is she? Why did you see the cat?
In there, down under them bushes.
I followed the beam of the officer's flash. Patty had crawled deep inside a natural tunnel under the thick, clining cypress.
I saw her tear-stained face, frightened.
And then two calls of fire glared at me from the shadow.
In her arms.
It takes an ocean to scratch her.
Patty! Patty! Let the kitty go!
No! No! Go away!
I can make him out better now, Chief. I think I could hit that cat.
Put it away, Blanchard.
Yes, sir, Chief. Only...
Give me your flashlight, officer. I'm going in there.
I raised my mask, dropped to my knees, and started into the opening between the closed, set hedges.
But I got no further than the opening.
No! No! Go away! Go away!
Patty! Patty, darling! It's Daddy! It's me, darling!
No! No! You're not my daddy! You're a bad man! You didn't hurt me! Go away!
What's got into her?
It's your mask, Ebbheart. That's what's scaring her.
Of course, of course. That's what it is.
But you're not going in there without a mask.
Patty has no mask. I'm going in to get my little girl.
Patty! Patty! It's Daddy! Don't be scared. I'm coming in with you. To take you home. To Mama.
Daddy! Oh, Daddy!
Don't be scared, darling.
I'm not scared, Daddy. Jerry's here.
Yes. Patty, let me hold Jerry.
You won't take him away from me?
Don't squeeze him. He'll scratch. He hasn't scratched you, has he, darling?
Oh, no, Daddy. Jerry wouldn't do that. He's my friend.
Yes, of course he is, baby. But Jerry is sick. He's very sick. You'd better let me hold him.
You make people well, don't you, Daddy? You're a doctor.
That's right, darling. I make people well.
Here, then, Daddy. You take Jerry and make him well.
He was in my arms. Suddenly he didn't seem like Black Death anymore.
It was just Jerry. The old familiar Jerry I had fed and scolded and petted for all the years he'd been a fixture at the Institute.
He relaxed in my arms as only a cat can and stretched forth a long paw.
The claws came out and rested on my bare wrist.
If he made a quick move, even involuntarily, but Jerry didn't make the move.
Slowly, the claws, still holding their deadly venom, sank back into their furry sheaths.
I took a bottle out of my pocket, uncapped it.
What's that funny smell, Daddy?
It's medicine for Jerry. It's called chloroform.
Will it make him well?
It will make him go to sleep, dear. You see? He's asleep now.
I'm sleepy too, Daddy. Can we go home now?
Oh yes, Perthie. We're going home. We're going home now.
Suspense, in which Mr. Edgar Barrier starred in tonight's presentation of Black Death.
Next week, the story of betrayal and retribution on Devil's Island. We call it The Stoolpigeon.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Anthony Ellis.
Tonight's script was written by Lawrence Goldman.
The music was composed by René Garagin and conducted by Wilbur Hatch.
Featured in the cast were William Conrad, Mary McGovern, Gil Fry, Jack Edwards, Jim Musser, Joe Cranston, and Barney Phillips.
Thursday nights, The Whistler brings mystery on the CBS Radio Network.
The Whistler plays the tune of The Whistler.