|Tex Murphy||......................||Chris Jones|
|Chelsee Bando||......................||Suzanne Barnes|
|Louie LaMintz||......................||Randall Edwards|
|Rook Garner||......................||Doug Vandergrift|
|Mac Malden||......................||Kevin Jones|
|French Woman||......................||Demetria Chappo|
|Gravelly-voiced Man||......................||Bruce Darby|
|Australian Man||......................||Adrian Carr|
|Overseers||......................||Aaron Conners & Chris Jones|
|Scripts & Dialogue||......................||Aaron Conners|
|Audio Production||......................||Jon Clark|
|Foley & Additional Music||......................||Jon Clark|
|Assistant to Mr. Clark||......................||Les Oswald|
|Constant Hovering||......................||Doug Vandegrift|
NARR: Welcome to Tex Murphy Radio Theater! When last we saw our hero, Tex and his longed-for love interest Chelsee had, at last, gone out on their first official date. As they left the restaurant, Chelsee finally gave Tex the kind of "lip" he'd been looking for. But the kiss was rudely interrupted when Tex noticed, to his horror, that his speeder had been stolen. Just then, a mysterious man with an Aussie accent showed up and offered them a ride. Over Tex's protests, Chelsee accepted. For once, Tex was right. High above the city, the man pulled out a gun, shot Chelsee, then turned and fired at Tex.
And now...as our story resumes...
A moonless night and the fog is rolling in off the Pacific. An enormous, decaying structure peers down from a sheer cliff, high above. Like a ghostly lighthouse, a single square of pale light radiates from a window on the top floor of this ancient mansion. Inside the room, a bare bulb burns and casts violent shadows on the cracked and peeling walls as the occupant of the room contorts and cries out in a vain attempt to escape his subconscious torture. And now...Episode 1: The Naked and the Bed.
[WWI sounds: Bi-planes, bombs, etc. – a FRENCH WOMAN speaks with an accent:]
FW: You must not move, Captain Donnelly. Your plane...it was—how do you say?—shot down.
TM: My name’s Murphy.
FW: You are badly wounded, Monsieur. Lie still while I bathe you.
[Splashing sounds, washing, etc.]
FW: Does that please you, mon capitan?
TM: Oh, yeah. That feels real good.
[SOUND EFFECTS FADE OUT – the French girl’s voice changes to a Gravelly-voiced Man:]
FW/GM: Now I know why they call you doughboys. [changing] You don’t work out much, do ya?
TM: [VO] It was the worst kind of dream. The kind where you think you’re gonna get lucky with a buxom French girl and suddenly you’re woken up by a sponge-wielding pervert reeking of pastrami. [beat] He must have sensed my discomfort.
GM: OK. Bath’s over. Go back to sleep.
[SLOSHING SOUND, FOOTSTEPS RETREATING, DOOR SHUTTING]
TM: [VO] It felt like I’d been
dreaming for years. Half the time it was a collage of images: Needles...
clocks...an old-fashioned rotary dial telephone...a dead body on
a boat...a girl screaming...eggs covered with diamonds and gems.
I hear dozens of voices. One is soft and low. It’s telling
me where to go. And there are other voices I can’t understand.
The rest of the time, I’m in an old house...it’s drafty...
there’s a musty smell. I hear cockroaches scurrying across
the floor. It feels just like my place, except this bed’s
a lot more comfortable. It’s so comfy I can’t move.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t dreaming anymore and I still couldn’t move my arms or legs. I couldn’t see anything either. And judging by the cool breezes in my nether regions, it felt as if a blindfold and handcuffs were all I had on. [HANDCUFFS SCRAPING, BED CREAKING] I tried to get free, but it was no use. Someone had me exactly where they wanted me. I didn’t know why or who, but my recent sponge bath had left me feeling dirty and violated. Someone was gonna pay. [AM & GM VOICES IN b.g.] But just then, I heard voices and decided to pretend I’d followed orders and gone back to sleep.
[Gravelly-voiced Man speaks to an Australian Man as they enter the room:]
GM: The sedatives ain’t working too well anymore.
AM: Double the dosage. We’re not done with him yet.
GM: I already doubled the dosage.
AM: Then triple it. Is the taxi en route?
GM: Should be here any minute. [beat] If I triple the dosage, he’ll have a hard time gettin’ channeled… unless you can channel ‘em when they’re dead.
[THE VOICES ARE CLOSE NOW]
AM: He’s probably built up an immunity to toxic substances. Just look at him.
GM: How much longer we gotta hold him? I hear they finished up with the girl.
AM: That’s what I intend to find out…if the taxi ever gets here. [beat] You’re certain he was regaining consciousness? It appears he’s adequately sedated.
GM: He’s comin’ and goin’. He’s been dreamin’ about the regressions.
AM: Give him another injection. We don’t want him awake.
GM: I’ll send the nurse up.
[FOOTSTEPS RETREAT, THE DOOR CLOSES.]
TM: [VO] Whatever they were talking about, I didn’t like the sound of it. And the handcuffs and blindfold – not to mention the nudity – were starting to worry me. I tried to think back, figure out how I’d gotten here, wherever here was. My last memory was walking out of the Golden Pagoda with Chelsee, the real girl of my dreams. Maybe I was still hallucinating, but I seemed to remember being suddenly distracted just as we started kissing:
[STREET SOUNDS, Voices in FLASHBACK ECHO]
TM: I can’t believe it!
CB: What?! It’s my breath, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have had the garlic sauce!
TM: No! It’s my speeder! Someone stole my damn speeder!
[BACK TO PRESENT]
TM: [VO] Everything after that was all hazy…:
AM: [ECHO] Things could get worser. Things could get worser. [REPEAT AND FADE OUT…]
TM: [VO] I’d been in plenty of predicaments before – and this one seemed like a real doozy – but, for some reason, all I could think about was a bowl of Louie’s spicy lamb chili and a mug of his special Armageddon blend. I heard my tummy growl, then it was drowned out by the sound of approaching footsteps.
[LIGHT FOOTSTEPS, THE DOOR OPENS, FOOTSTEPS APPROACH, a Woman speaks:]
W: Mr. Murphy. Can you hear me? [long beat] Please, Mr. Murphy. Are you awake?
W: Thank goodness.
TM: Who are you?
W: I’m a friend…unlike the others.
TM: Where am I?
W: In a dangerous place. I’m going to help you escape.
TM: Am I naked?
TM: I thought so. You know, it’s just so darn cold in here--
W: I’m going to undo your manacles. But you must promise me you won’t move until it’s safe. If they find out I helped you escape they’ll kill me.
[SOUND OF UNLOCKING HANDCUFFS.]
TM: Literally? Or figuratively?
W: There’s no time to explain. You must pretend I administered the sedative. After they check on you, there’ll be time to escape. Just remember – the White Russians are your friends.
TM: I’ll take your word for it, but I usually drink bourbon.
W: Don’t forget, Mr. Murphy. Please.
[HURRIEDLY RETREATING FOOTSTEPS.]
TM: [VO] I hadn’t been this confused since 10th grade algebra. I’d never been a good student and I was even worse at following other people’s instructions, but I could play dead with the best of ‘em, which is exactly what I did at that moment.
[HEAVY FOOTSTEPS. The Gravelly-voiced Man speaks:]
GM: Aw…did we go night-night?
TM: [VO] Mr. Sponge Bath reached down and tickled the bottom of my foot, apparently to check my state of consciousness. It took every ounce of will power not to squeal like a schoolgirl. I hadn’t shown that much self-control since the last time I saw Chelsee in a black mini and fishnets.
GM: Sweet dreams, Mr. Murphy.
TM: [VO] I pulled off my blindfold and looked around. There was no doubt about it; I was definitely naked. I’d lied about the room being cold, but I didn’t feel like walking around in my birthday suit. Luckily, the ensemble I’d been wearing at the Golden Pagoda was on a chair in the corner of the room. I sat up and slid my legs off the bed. [SMALL SPLASH] Great. Bedpan. [beat] Shaking my foot dry, I hurried to the chair and got dressed. [CLOTHES RUSTLING, ZIPPER] A bare bulb glowed inside the room, but outside the window it was dark. I’d just set the Fedora on my head when I heard someone coming.
[VENETIAN BLINDS CRINKLING, TEX GROANING, BUMPING SOUND]
TM: [VO] With cat-like reflexes, I climbed out the window and onto a ledge outside…and not a moment too soon.
GM: [b.g., YELLING OUT] Hey! He’s gone!
[TENTATIVE FOOTSTEPS GET CLOSER…]
TM: [VO] I steadied myself, ready to go Pele on Mr. Sponge Bath and drop-kick him into next week. [VENETIAN BLINDS CRINKLE] I heard him start to lean out the window…
AM: [b.g.] What is it?
[SOUND OF A HEAD SLAMMING INTO THE WINDOW SASH.]
GM: Ow! Damn it!
AM: Where is he?!
GM: You tell me! I’m not the freakin’ psychic!
AM: He must be out there…on the ledge!
GM: Where the hell d’ya think I was lookin’?!
[FOOTSTEPS RUNNING, VENETIAN BLINDS CRINKLE…]
AM: He’s not out here! [VOICE TURNING AWAY] He must be somewhere in the building! Summon the others! Find him!