Free Twilight Zone The Movie by Robert Bloch

maybe things would be different. Not that there would be any fooling around—nobody fools around at her age, no matter how many vitamins they take. But at least the two of them could be together, just like they had been for all those years before.
    No, suppose Harry were here—what difference would it make? They probably wouldn’t even talk; the way she felt now, all she wanted to do was sleep. Face wooden, limbs stiff, Mrs. Weinstein slept like a log.
    Mr. Mute fell asleep thinking about mole rats. Somewhere recently he’d run across a reference to these curious creatures, either in his reading or else while watching one of those nature documentaries on television. And now, strangely enough, they came scampering through his thoughts, burrowing into his brain the way they burrowed through the sun-baked earth below the savanna grasslands of East Africa. There, in the warm darkness, they nestled in a tangled drove, venturing forth only to bring food into the pitch-black confines where they lived out their entire existence in half-blind hunger.
    Miserable creatures, leading a miserable life. But just how different was it from his own existence here at Sunneyvale? Crowded together in the confines of the so-called recreation room, sitting and staring half-blindly at the television tube, redigesting memories of the past, shut away from the world beyond?
    Mr. Mute was still pondering the question as, like a mole rat, he burrowed down into the darkness of slumber.
    Miss Cox was asleep, too. Bloom looked in on her for a moment, gently easing open the door of the bedroom at the far end of the hall. The bedside lamp was still burning; she must have dozed off while reading, for a paperback romance rested beside her, its gaudy cover-art displaying the standard frightened heroine fleeing from the conventional Gothic mansion with the inevitable dark-haired and mustachioed hero staring after her.
    Such stuff as dreams are made of. Bloom smiled and closed the door. Then he turned and walked softly down the hall.
    It was exactly midnight when he entered the men’s dormitory and moved in semidarkness to Mr. Mute’s bedside. Bending down, he shook him gently by the shoulder.
    “It’s time, Mr. Mute,” he whispered.
    Mr. Mute opened his eyes and sat up, throwing back his covers. He was fully clothed; the discarded bathrobe rested on the chair beside him.
    Bloom stared at him approvingly. “I see you’re dressed for the occasion,” he murmured. “What about the others?”
    Mr. Mute nodded. “They all went to bed with their clothes on, at my suggestion.” He glanced toward the sleeping forms in the beds beside him. “All but Conroy. He must have come in later, but I see he’s wearing his pajamas.”
    “Try not to disturb him,” Bloom said. “Now, if you’ll just wake the others, I’ll go down the hall and see if the ladies are ready. We’ll meet outside on the back lawn. I’ve been scouting around for a good place and that seems to be the safest.”
    “Excellent.” Mr. Mute reached for his glasses on the shelf above the bed. “See you in a few minutes.”
    When Bloom stepped out onto the back lawn, he found the others already waiting. Carrying the tin can, he moved to the center of the greensward, beckoning the others to follow him.
    “All set?” he asked.
    “Ready to go.” Mr. Agee winked at Mrs. Dempsey.
    She nodded, cradling the cat against her shoulder.
    Mr. Weinstein shrugged. “I feel like a schlemiel,” he murmured. “But what have I got to lose?”
    “Right,” said Bloom. “Here we go.” He tossed the can into the air.
    As it whirled down in a shimmering spiral the old people ran for cover, finding hiding-places in the hedge and shrubbery that bordered the lawn on three sides.
    Bloom stared down at the can; then, in a loud voice, he slowly counted to ten.
    Turning, he moved over the bordering hedge at his right and began to search for the other players.
    Behind his back they were already sneaking forward