THE HITCHHIKER The Twilight Zone Nan Adams: Hitch-Hiker: Sailor: Mechanic: Gas Station Owner: Counterman: Highway Worker: Act One. Scene One. Narrator. There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the twilight zone. (It is daytime on the side of a highway. A mechanic is tending to a woman s car while she stands in the sun and waits.) Her name is Nan Adams. She's 27 years old. Her occupation, buyer at a New York department store. At present on vacation, driving crosscountry to Los Angeles, California, from Manhattan. Mechanic. How fast were you going, miss? Nan. Oh, 60, 65. Something like that. Mechanic. Blowout, skid marks, shoulders like pudding and going 65 miles an hour. Lady, you're on the side of the angels, by rights, you shouldn't have called for a mechanic. Somebody should have called for a hearse. Just follow me into town, miss. I'll see if I can fix you up with a new tire. Nan. Thank you. Narrator. Minor incident on highway 11 in Pennsylvania. Perhaps to be filed away under "accidents you'd walk away from. But from this moment on, Nan Adams's companion on a trip to California will be terror. Her route, fear. Her destination, quite unknown. (Cut to a nearby gas station) Mechanic. That's five bucks for the call, $22.10 for the tire; the tax, $2.60. Whole thing comes to $29.70. Nan. It's cheaper than a funeral, isn't it? Mechanic. You can say that again. (As the door of the car closes, the woman sees the hitchhiker in the mirror reflection. She looks puzzled and nervous.) Mechanic. Here you are Miss. Change from your two $20 s. I checked the other tires for you, they look ok. (pause) Anything wrong. Nan. No. No, nothing s wrong I was just looking at that hitchhiker. (The camera turns to reveal that nothing is there behind her.) Mechanic. What hitchhiker? Nan. He s gone now. Guess he got picked up. Mechanic. Probably Nan. Funny though, I saw him a little while ago while you were changing the tire. Mechanic. He probably got a lift right after we passed him. Nan. Probably. Thank you so much for all of your help. Mechanic. No problem Miss. Have a safe trip. Nan. (concerned) Thank you. (She gets in her car and drives away. A part of the hitchhiker s face watching her drive away appears in the camera frame). Nan. (driving alone) I saw him again fifty miles further on, and then again on the long straight stretch to Virginia, [him] just standing there. Not menacing really. If anything, drab; a little mousy. Just a shabby, silly looking scarecrow man. I shouldn t even think about it at all, but it s the coincidence of the thing. The fact that wherever I go, there he is. Wherever I stop I see him, no matter how far I travel or how fast I go, he s ahead of me. I m on a turnpike now. I don t know why it is, but I m frightened. A fear just about as vague as its object. Maybe it isn t really a fear, it s more just a sense of just disquiet. A feeling that things are just a little wrong. It s vague because that s what that hitchhiker is. He s vague. I wonder why it is he s always there. I wonder why I can t shake him. (Nan stops at a diner for food)
Nan. Get many hitchhikers around here? Counterman. Hitchhikers, here? Whew! Nan. Rare, huh? Counterman. Well, couldn t be more rarer. A guy would be a fool hitching a ride on a turnpike. Well, look at it, miles and miles of straightaway and practically no speed limit. Now what car is gonna stop and pick up a guy, under those conditions? Would you? Nan. No, I wouldn t. Counterman. Now a guy might get a ride before the turnpike starts. You know, maybe by the toll house or something. But even then it would be a mighty long ride. Most cars wouldn t want to pick up a guy for that long of a ride. And then, you know, it s kinda lonely country around here. Flat land, hills, that sort of thing. You didn t see anyone hitching, did you? Nan. (quickly) No, no I didn t see anyone like that. I was just wondering, that s all. (Nan looks concerned) Counterman. Something wrong Miss? Nan. I don t know. I I was just thinking I was just thinking how good it was going to be to stop driving. It s getting so that (with emotion) I hate that car!(she runs out of the diner) (Nan is driving down the highway and comes to a stop) Highway worker. You ll have to wait a minute miss, construction ahead. Nan. Alright. (She begins to get out of the car, then quickly jumps back in as she sees the hitchhiker approaching the passenger side.) Hitchhiker. (smiling and walking up to the car window, looking in) Heading west? Nan. (Not looking at him, frightened) No! No, I m not heading west! I m sorry. (shouting, almost crying) I m not heading west! I m just going up the road a little ways! (Nan peels away quickly in the car) Highway Worker. Hey Miss! Where are you going! (Nan, more relaxed, comes to a stop at a railroad crossing for an approaching train. Then, she sees the hitchhiker. She tries to drive across the railroad tracks, but the car stalls on the tracks. She panics, and tries to start the car as the train approaches blowing its horn. At the very last moment before the train crashes into the car, Nan gets the car started and reverses off of the railroad tracks. The train speeds past. The hitchhiker is gone.) Nan. (sitting in her car) Now the fear is no longer vague. The terror isn t formless. It has a form. He was beckoning me. That thin grey man in the cheap, shabby suit; he was beckoning me. He wanted me to start across, he wanted me to die. I know that now. I don t know what to do now. I don t know if I should turn around and go back to New York, or go on ahead. Stabbing little thoughts gouge my brain. Ugly, frightened thoughts. Projections of tomorrow and the next day, driving through plains and the desert unspeakably, nightmarishly alone. And I know I ll see him. I ll see him at detours and railroad crossings. He ll be looking at me at stoplights. I don t know what to do know. I don t know what to do. I just don t know what to do! Act two. Scene One. Nan. Three days and three nights now, driving; past Tennessee into Arkansas. Three days and three nights! Stop for food and then drive, stop for food and then drive, stop for food and the routine goes on. Towns go by without names, landscapes without form. Now it isn t even a trip, it s flight. Route 80 isn t a highway anymore, it s an escape route. So I keep going, conscious of only one thing, I ve got to get where I m going, and I can t let that hitchhiker close in on me. On the fourth day, halfway across New Mexico I took a side road hoping to lose the hitchhiker. At eleven o clock at night the engine stopped. And I sit there in the front seat full of fear, out of gas. (Nan gets out of the car and runs into the darkness. She finds a gas station. It s closed, but she bangs on the door.) Nan. (screaming) Please! Please, somebody help me! Gas Station Owner. (waking up, opening his window) Yeah! What is it you want? Nan. I m out of gas. My car is down the road just a quarter of a mile, or so. Gas Station Owner. Well, come back in the morning and we ll fix you up. Nan. Please! I can t stay here all night. I have to have some gas. Gas Station Owner. Lady, it must be past midnight. Nan. It s only a little bit after eleven.
Gas Station Owner. Well, we close up here at nine. Nan. Please! Could I have a can of gas? I just can t stay there by myself. There s a very suspicious looking man there. Gas Station Owner. (concerned) What about this man? What was he doing? Nan. (looking away sobbing) Well. uh, nothing. He he just stands there. I I ve been seeing this man all the time, but he just stands there and he doesn t do anything. Gas Station Owner. (bothered) That s nothing to wake up a man in the middle of his sleep about! Nan. Well, I think he s trying to rob me! Gas Station Owner. Well, if he does, then you come back here and I ll call the sheriff. (He closes the window and the curtain) Nan.(crying) No! Please, help me! Please! (Nan hears a sound and whirls around, but the person isn t shown) Sailor. Lady? Nan. (surrendering) Yes, that s who I am. I m a lady. (the camera turns to reveal the sailor) Sailor. What are you doing out so late? You work here? This your place? Nan. (hopeful) No. I ran out of gas. I m just a little bit ways down the road, but this man here won t give me any gas. Sailor. Well, I saw your car. You know you left your keys in it. Nan. Do you live around here? Sailor. No, I m on my way back from leave. Nan. Where ya headed? Sailor. Back to my ship. San Diego, that s where she is. That s where I m heading, San Diego. Nan. (desperate) Do you want a ride? Sailor. (chuckles) You kidding me? Nan. No, I m not kidding. I mean it. I ll take you all the way into San Diego. Will you drive with me? Sailor. Lady, you don t have to ask twice. You got yourself a ride, honest. Nan. I don t have any gas though. Sailor. We ll fix that up. You try the people here? Nan. Well, the man is in bed. I Sailor. (serious) Well let s get him out of bed! (he bangs on the door) Hey pop! You ve got some customers out here! (Nan and the Sailor in Nan s car, driving) Sailor. Say, do you mind if I take off my shoes? My feet feel like two hot bricks. Nan. No, go right ahead. Sailor. Thanks. You know I keep thinking that I ll wake up or something. Middle of the night, no cars, no nothing. Who do I meet? A lady who looks like a movie star. When I tell the guys on the ship, you know what the odds are for even one guy believing me.? (pause) I said, do you know what the odds are for one guy to believe me? Nan. (flattered) I ll write an affidavit. We can get a notary to sign it. (pause) You hitchhike much? Sailor. Only back and forth on leave, mostly. It s kinda tough in this open country. Trucks are alright, they ll pick you up. But you have trouble cars. You know, most people in cars won t pick up hitchhikers at night. Nan. Oh, I suppose not. (questioning) I bet if you got a good pick up in a fast car you could go places faster than, say, another person in another car. Sailor. I suppose Nan. Well, take me for instance. Suppose I m driving across the country at a nice steady clip of about 45mph, couldn t a fella like you standing beside the road waiting for a lift beat me from town to town provided he got picked up every time in a car going about 65-70mph? Couldn t he? Sailor. I suppose. Maybe he could, maybe he couldn t. What difference does it make? Nan. No difference really. (chuckles) Just a silly kind of idea I had here sitting in the car. Sailor. (laughs too) Yeah. I guess that s a good way to spend your time though, huh? (Suddenly, Nan sees the hitchhiker ahead and swerves the car away from him) Sailor. (shocked) What s going on? What s the matter? Nan. (frightened) Did you you see that man? Sailor. Who? Nan. You must have seen him. The one standing beside the road.
Sailor. Honey, I didn t see anybody. There was nothing there. What are you trying to do, run us off the road or something? Nan. The thin, kind of grey looking man. Sailor. (certain) I didn t see anybody. Lady, you must be overtired or something. I didn t see nobody, nothing. Nan. (dreamy) I saw him. (Suddenly, again Nan sees the hitchhiker and swerves the car, but the sailor grabs the wheel to take control of the car, and they come to a stop on the side of the road.) Sailor. Look lady, maybe you d better let me drive, huh? Nan. You must have seen him that time. Sailor. No, I didn t see anybody. What were you trying to do? Nan. I was trying to hit him. Sailor. What! Nan. That s right. I was trying to hit him. I thought maybe if I could kill him I could make him stop. (Frightened, the sailor starts to get out of the car) Nan. Where are you going? Sailor. No place in particular. Just out of sight. I m going to go anyplace that puts distance between me and this automobile! Nan. Please don t go! I just I don t know what came over me. Don t go. Sailor. Look baby, I d like to get back to my ship in one piece. And driving with you: that is a lousy guarantee that I ll ever make it! Nan. Please, don t go! I promise that I ll drive more carefully now. I promise. Sailor. Sorry lady. I m sorry now, but you ll have to excuse me. Nan. (demanding) You can t go. Do you understand that? You just can t go. I ll take you all the way into San Diego. I ll drive you right up to the docks, I promise. Sailor. Thanks, but no thanks! Nan. I like you. I really like you very much. As a matter of fact that s why I picked you up; because I like you. I thought that we could be friends. And I thought that maybe you could take me out, really. Please? Sailor. (pause) I m sorry mam. (He gets out of the car) Nan. Please! Look, I know you think I m out of my mind or something, but I ve been seeing this man. He s been following me all the way across the country. If you could only help me and just stay with me until I reach the coast. Please, don t go! Please? Sailor. (reaching back in the car) Excuse me, my shoes. You listen honey. What you need is a good night s sleep. You don t need a boyfriend; just a good night s sleep. I ll see you around) (He walks away) Nan. NO! Don t go! (crying) Don t go. Act Three. Scene One. (Nan, after driving alone further, stops on the side of the road) Nan. Now I m outside of a diner at Tucson. There s a payphone outside, and I m going to call home back to New York; put in a call to my mother so I can speak to someone familiar, someone I love. someone to bring back reality to me. Just a voice, a warm familiar voice so that I won t lose my mind. (Nan finds a payphone and uses it) Nan. Operator, I d like to make a call to my home in New York City. My name is Nan Adams. The telephone number is 41098. (The camera shows a phone being answered in a home) Nan. Hello, mother? Mrs Whitney. This is Mrs. Adam s residence. Whom do you wish to speak to please? Nan. Who s this? Mrs. Whitney. This is Mrs. Whitney. Nan. Mrs. Whitney, I don t know any Mrs. Whitney. Is this 41098? Mrs. Whitney. Yes, it is. Nan. Where s my mother? Where s Mrs. Adams? Mrs. Whitney. She s still in the hospital. She had a nervous breakdown. Nan. A nervous breakdown? There s nothing the matter with my mother. What do you mean a nervous breakdown? Mrs. Whitney. Well, this has all taken place since the death of her daughter. Nan. The death of her daughter? What do you mean the death of her daughter? (suspiciously) Who s this? What number is this? Mrs. Whitney. (serious) It s all been very sudden. Nan was killed just six days ago in an automobile accident in Pennsylvania. A tire blew out and her car turned over.
(Nan hangs up the phone and walks towards the car) Nan. Very odd, the fear has left me now. I m numb. I have no feeling. It s as if someone had pulled out some kind of plug in me and everything: emotion, feeling, fear has drained out. And now I m a cold shell. I m conscious of things around me now: the vast night of Arizona, the stars that look down from the darkness. Ahead of me stretches a thousand miles of empty mesa, mountains, prairie, desert. Somewhere among them he s waiting for me. Somewhere I ll find out who he is. I ll find out. I ll find out what he wants. Though, just now for the first time looking out at the night I think I know, I think I know. (Nan gets back in the car with confidence. She adjusts the rearview mirror, and it shows the hitchhiker.) Hitchhiker. I believe you are going. west? Narrator. Nan Adams, 27, she was driving to California, to Los Angeles. She didn t make it. There was a detour through the twilight zone.