And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Listen now to Act One of The Black Door, starring Robert Reddick, featuring Ralph Camargo,
and written especially for suspense by Robert Arthur.
The mistake I made was going through that black door.
If I'd left it shut the way it was, sealed tight, everything would have been fine.
I'd have married Marsha, become a full professor, had my name in all the papers.
Well, there's no use telling the story backwards, is there?
First things first, as old Professor Wentworth always said.
And the first thing in this case is the grant I received to hunt for a lost city in Central
America.
The city of the Fire God.
Which might mean something, or might mean nothing.
Anyway, I got the grant from the university, chartered a modern helicopter for three months,
flew it down to Central America, got the necessary government permissions, and made my base of
operations the tiny little town of San Marcos on the coast.
As nearly as I could figure from the manuscript, the city of the Fire God was someplace among
the mountains in that area.
So I flew back and forth over the mountains in the helicopter, keeping a lookout for rooms
in the jungle or the mountain valleys.
And for two and a half months, I saw nothing except trees and rocks.
In the town, I was charitably looked upon as a crazy Yankee.
And finally, even the children stopped staring at me.
But I was getting pretty discouraged.
And trying to forget my troubles with a glass of tequila in a little garden outside the
town's only cafe, while some native with a guitar serenaded his girl nearby.
Waiter?
What?
Oh, there you are.
Oh, hello.
Pardon, señor.
I am not the waiter.
He's busy.
Busy?
No one's been busy in this town since Columbus discovered America.
That's very true, señor, but I have begged the waiter to go somewhere else.
That's why he's busy.
Look at this, señor.
Well, let me see that.
It's a tiny statue, very old.
You carved out a volcanic basalt in the style of the oldest known Mayan carving.
Where did you get that?
Oh, that is easily answered, señor.
Well, then tell me.
My grandfather, he gave it to me when he died.
Well, where did he get it?
Señor, that is a harder question.
Now, look, if you came here just to play games with me, I...
No, no, no, señor.
No, no.
That is why I sent away the waiter so we could talk confidentially.
Yes, well, let's talk confidentially.
Where did that little statue come from?
From the mountain, señor.
But the whole country is mountain.
Yes, yes, that is true, but you see, my grandfather was a great hunter.
Once he followed a wounded jaguar high into the mountain.
Some savage natives then followed my grandfather.
Yes.
Well, he was wounded, and to escape, he climbed a great cliff.
Go on, go on, go on.
And he reached the top, and on the other side, he saw a dead city.
A dead city?
Yes, señor, silent, lifeless, far below him.
Yes.
He tried to climb down to it, and he fell, señor.
For three days he lay unconscious, and when he recovered his senses, he had the fever,
and somehow he found his way out.
He does not know how.
He staggered back to his home, and they found him in a jungle, crawling on his hands and
knees, clutching this little statue, and saying over and over, La Puerta Negra, La Puerta
Negra.
What?
The black door, señor.
The black door?
Si, señor.
And my poor grandfather.
He was never strong enough to go hunting again, but he kept this little statue, and he said
it had saved his life.
What did he mean by the black door?
One cannot say, señor.
He could not remember.
Surely he went back to the lost city?
Well, no, he was not strong enough.
Besides, there were the savages.
But you mean nobody ever tried to find the city again?
Well, why should they, señor?
It belonged to the dead.
They might be angry if the living came to disturb them.
Those old superstitions.
Si, señor.
Now, me, I am not superstitious.
I speak American well.
The señor wishes to find this lost city.
I, Pedro Ramirez, know where it is.
Go on.
You see, my grandfather described it to me.
The mountains where it is hidden.
They are three days' walk from here.
Three days.
That's 50 or 60 miles.
What direction?
Señor, that is the question.
What direction?
Most important question, no?
I get it.
How much?
A mere pittance for a rich young man, señor.
$1,000 American.
$1,000?
And one half of all the treasure.
What treasure is that?
Oh, there must be treasure, señor.
Why else would you seek this lost city?
Because I want to become a professor at a university and marry a girl named Marsha.
Whose father is head of the Department of Archeology.
All right.
$1,000 if you actually guide me to this city you say your grandfather found.
And half of the treasure?
Yes.
Half the treasure.
If any.
We sealed the bargain with a glass of tequila.
And the next day Pedro came with me in the helicopter.
He directed me to fly to the southeast, and I did, hovering as low as I dared over the
rocky edges and jungle.
We've come more than 50 miles, Pedro.
No sign of that city yet.
Oh yes, señor.
There to the left.
There is the mountain.
That?
Are you crazy?
That's the cone of an extinct volcano.
Sí, señor.
And the lost city is inside the volcano.
Oh, now wait a minute.
How could that be?
Well, I do not know.
I was not there when it was built.
On the other hand, city of the fire god, I wonder.
Well, I haven't looked into that volcano yet, so here goes.
We lifted high in the air over the top of the old dead volcano.
We came out over a deep circular valley, grown up with jungle now.
But there, in the center of the jungle, was a group of stone buildings dominated by a
vast ruined temple.
Señor, señor, the lost city of my grandfather.
Oh, it is rich with treasure.
I have the feeling.
Well, even if it isn't, this is one of the biggest finds in the history of Central America.
We're going down now, we'll sit down in that level spot right in front of the temple.
We settled in front of the old temple.
I cut the motors and for a moment we just sat there taking it in.
The stone towers, the ancient carvings, the massive walls that have been put into place
by men whose bones had turned to dust maybe three, four thousand years ago.
And then we climbed out.
We were both armed.
We had flashlights.
And I had a small hammer and chisel tucked into my belt.
Aboard the helicopter I had a case of dynamite if any blasting was necessary, but this was
just to be a preliminary survey, so I left it where it was.
Pedro and I found ourselves on a big stone plaza at the partially ruined temple in front
of us.
The entrance was flanked by two tremendous stone carvings, oddly enough, very like something
from Egypt.
Stone figures with heads that were vaguely dog-like, which made them seem most unhuman.
Senor, those statues, I do not like them.
Yes, they are rather odd, but I'm more interested in those designs carved in the rock above
them.
Design, senor?
Oh, they but show the moon, the new moon and the old moon.
Yes, and there are more moons all over the front of the temple.
And that's unusual.
Most of the old civilizations in this area worship the sun.
Si, senor, but I cannot help wondering.
Wondering what?
Why the man who made those statues put the heads of dogs on them.
It was dark inside the temple, but our flashlights gave us enough light.
Vast stone pillars supported a roof high above us as we moved down along a lengthy corridor.
And then we came into a central rotunda that got some sunlight through a crack in the roof.
Look, look, senor, gold, gold, ten statues, twelve statues, and each of them solid gold.
Come, come, look, senor, gold, gold, I have reached, I have reached.
The table was right.
Ranged in a circle in the middle of the rotunda were twelve golden statues about five feet
high.
They were all human figures with dog-like heads.
And they were all looking at a spot on the floor in the middle of the circle they made.
Oh, senor, look, look, jewels, jewels, baskets of them, oh, senor, senor, I am the richest
man in the world.
At the foot of each statue a carved stone basket.
Each one has a handful of gems in it.
Obviously these statues were worshipped and the gems were tribute.
Pedro, have you taken a good look at these statues?
Turn your light on this one.
Madre mia, again the head of the dog.
Yes, they are all dog-headed statues.
And all their eyes are focused on one spot over there.
It seems to be something carved on the floor.
Let's see what that is.
Ah, senor, that is more strange.
A round black carving on the floor, almost like a globe or a map.
Good lord.
Do you know what this is supposed to be?
No, senor, I cannot guess.
It's the moon, carved on the floor in black basalt, the moon.
Ah, si.
Oh, that is more strange, no?
You don't know the half of it because the formations carved here, they're not the formations
our astronomers know, unless the Russians have some new pictures they're not talking
about.
If this carving represents the real geography of the moon.
Pedro?
Si, senor.
The artist who carved this must at some time have seen the dark side of the moon, which
no human being has ever glimpsed.
I know it sounds crazy, but the more I studied that round black carving, the more I was convinced
it was an accurate relief map of the dark side of the moon.
And then we discovered something else.
Around the rim of that black disk was a series of crevices filled with tar.
I dug the tar out and under it, in each crevice, we found a small basalt statuette like the
one that Pedro had originally shown me.
In each crevice, but one, which was empty.
Senor, si, the story of my grandfather is true.
This little statue he brought back, look, he just fits into this tiny hole.
Yes, yes it does.
Black door, this must be the black door that he talked about.
Ah, si, senor.
La puerta negra.
The black door.
But how does it open?
I don't know.
Now wait, wait, suppose we stand each of these little statues upright.
Si.
Yes, they fit tightly like handles.
Now if we push them.
Si senor, we push.
And it's turning.
Si.
The black disk is turning.
And now it's loose.
Now we can lift it up.
Let us lift it.
Down there, maybe more treasure, eh?
More gold, more jewels.
All right, now it's coming.
Si.
There, there, it's open.
And there's a well-worn flight of steps leading down to the heart of the old volcano.
We stood there staring down to that black passageway that seemed to go down, down endlessly.
I didn't like the looks of it.
When Pedro had gold fever, he thought that there might be whole vaults of treasure down
below.
I couldn't talk him out of looking, so I went along too.
The tunnel sloped downward, ever downward to the heart of the ancient volcano.
We came across evidence of much usage, broken pottery, strange carvings on the wall.
Our curiosity led us on until presently we came to a cavern whose walls seemed to be
lined by a curious growth.
Senor, look.
Yes, yes, mushrooms.
They're something very much like mushrooms, solid sheets of it all lining the walls.
No, no, no, no, senor.
That's what I mean.
Look here.
Look through here.
Oh, a narrow crevice.
There's a room in there.
It's not a room.
It is what is in the room.
Come, shine your light.
Then let us leave, senor.
Senor, what has got you so worked up?
It can't be treasure.
I see.
See, a skeleton, senor.
Many skeletons, hundreds, many, lying one upon the other.
Yes, yes, that rocky room is full of human bones, and much as I hate to say it.
What, senor?
The one that's lying on the other.
Yes, that rocky room is full of human bones, and much as I hate to say it.
What, senor?
The ones I can see best have tooth marks on them.
Oh, senor, let us leave here swiftly.
Let us return to the airplane.
Let us take the treasure and go.
Crazy now, Pedro.
These bones have been there hundreds of years, maybe thousands.
Old bones are new bones.
I do not like these bones.
There's no cause for alarm.
I don't know.
Why does the senor study so hard the mushrooms on the wall?
These mushrooms certainly haven't been here for a thousand years, and along here it looks
to me as if big handfuls of them have been broken off.
Broken off?
For why?
There's only one thing I know of, even to do with mushrooms, and that's eat them.
Pedro and I stood staring at each other.
I was pretty sure that something or somebody had recently been eating that mushroom-like
fungus.
And I was beginning to wonder what or who, when we heard it from somewhere far down below
us.
Senor, what is that?
It sounded like a dog howling.
A dog?
No, no, no, there is no dog.
What if it's not a dog?
What is it?
A demon, senor.
A devil.
Forget that superstition.
There's something down there, impossible as it seems, something living.
And if we do not leave, there will be something dying down here, senor.
Please, come, come, come.
Yes, but I'm trying to figure out what on earth that could...
Senor Landrich, those are not dogs upstairs.
They are statues, they are people with heads of dogs upon them.
Does the senor not realize what it is that is howling?
Until that second, I hadn't made the connection.
And then I realized the full significance of those statues.
It couldn't be, it was impossible.
But what other answer was there?
We turned ahead to the surface, and just as we did so, I saw something coming up the tunnel
toward us, something that was a pallid white shape in the light of my flashlight, something
running on all fours and howling, as it did so.
Shoot, senor, shoot!
Okay, that stopped it.
Now, let's get out of here.
We didn't even stop to look at what I'd shot.
I'm not sure I wanted to look.
We just turned and ran up that long tunnel to the surface.
And as we went, the howling things pursued us.
We could hear them behind us like a pack of hungry animals.
From time to time, I planned to fire my gun.
But I seemed to scare them.
We finally popped out into that ruined temple with the twelve dog-headed gods.
And I understood at last what that black door was for.
It sealed the entrance to the underground world where they lived.
Pedro and I flung ourselves on the ground.
The great brown slab of black rock was, and we couldn't move it.
It was wedged open somehow, and we couldn't get it closed.
Senor, senor, quickly!
They will follow us in a moment.
Gathered down there beyond the first bend.
Obviously, they don't like light.
They are getting up their courage.
We've got to shut them in.
We've got to get those things loose.
But we can't shut the black door.
We can do nothing!
The helicopter, quickly!
I got it. The dynamite and the helicopter.
We'll blow in the mouth of the tunnel.
Senor!
You heard me.
It'll only take sixty seconds.
That'll keep them quiet another minute or two.
Now come on, help me with that case of dynamite.
It took us less than a minute to get the case of dynamite.
Bring it back inside the temple and light a fuse.
And then I shoved the whole case down the steps into the black tunnel.
Pedro and I hurried back into the open.
Scrammed into the helicopter and started the motor just in case.
Ah!
Senor Landry!
What is it?
The treasure!
The jewels!
We did not bring them!
We can get them after the tunnel is blown in.
You don't want to tangle with those dog-headed creatures, do you?
No, no, no. Por los santos, no.
But...
Senor, what are they?
They must be demons for...
for surely they are not of this world.
Well, I agree with you, but they're not demons.
Listen...
That doesn't...
The tunnel is closed for good.
Senor, the temple is collapsing!
And the earth is shaking!
Senor, it's an earthquake!
Pedro, there's only one place for us to go and that's straight up!
The helicopter jumped a thousand feet straight up
just before the temple crashed on the spot where we had been.
And then we watched from a box seat
while the lost city crumbled into ruins.
The dynamite blast had triggered off an earthquake
and the earthquake rocked the ground
like a man shaking a baby's rattle.
Senor...
Senor, the jewels...
The gold...
They are down there under... under many rocks!
Yes, and so are the dog-headed creatures.
Suppose they'd got loose on the world
after being caged underground for thousands of years.
Oh, I can only think of all that pressure.
For a little while I was the richest man in the world.
I owned a lost city full of jewels.
Now...
Now I own nothing.
After things quiet down, I can bring back an expedition.
We'll dig in the ruins.
The jewels will still be there.
You see...
See that is true, no?
I will be rich yet, no?
I will buy myself three automobiles and twelve suits.
I will smoke cigars all day long
and have servants to do everything.
I...
Senor...
Senor, I am ruined! I am ruined!
What is it now?
The dead volcano!
It's coming to life!
See, the smoke is coming from the ground!
So you have to fly higher or we are doomed!
Well, that's hiding.
The dynamite triggered an earthquake.
And the earthquake opened up fissures leading far down
to where the volcanic fires had been banked for thousands of years.
And by the time we got ten miles away,
that entire mountain was blowing up in a vast spouting fire
and ashes and molten rock.
But somewhere...
Somewhere down in the heart of that inferno
was the lost city.
The city of the fire god.
It would have made my reputation.
Enough treasure to pay off the national debt.
And a howling mob of creatures you wouldn't want to meet this side of hell.
Well, that's the story.
You read about the new volcano.
And now you know what caused it.
Would you like to know my theory about those creatures?
Now, it's this.
Six or seven thousand years ago this old earth had some visitors.
Refugees, you might call them.
Some of them settled in Egypt, some in Central America.
They brought some highly scientific skills with them,
including the secret of overcoming gravity.
They ruled for a while, worshiped as gods, and then died out.
All except a few who found inside an old volcano a spot just about like home.
The native priests managed to lock them in behind that black door,
and kept them prisoners.
After the natives died out, the dog people existed underground,
living on mushrooms and keeping their race alive on an animal level.
Now they're gone now.
But here's a tip for the army and the air force.
When you land your first missiles on the moon,
keep your eyes open and your guns ready.
Because inside, those tremendous craters of the moon,
living far underground where, maybe, there's still warmth and air.
I have a hunch you're going to be running into people,
moon people, who look a lot like us.
Except for their heads.
Suspense.
You've been listening to The Black Door, starring Robert Reddick,
featuring Ralph Camargo, and written especially for Suspense by Robert Arthur.
Suspense is produced and directed by Bruno Zarratto Jr.
Music supervision by Ethel Huber.
Listen again next week when we return with Man Trap, written by John Roberts.
Another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Listen to Carol Burnett and Richard Hayes weeknights on the CBS Radio Network.