All language subtitles for The X-Files s05e12

Help!

Help!

Somebody help me!

Help!

Agh! He's gonna kill me!

Help! God! Somebody help me!

Go away!

Help!

Please help me!

Help!

Mulder?

Look at that.

Huh? Huh?

Oh, shi...

- Mulder...
- Don't.

Don't even start with me.

I know what I saw.

Skinner wants a report in one hour.

- What will you tell him?
- What do you mean?

I'm going to tell him exactly what I saw.

- What are you gonna tell him?
- I'll tell him exactly what I saw.

Now, how is that different?

Look, I'm the one who may go to prison.

I gotta know if you're gonna
back me up, or what?

First of all, if the family of Ronnie Strickland
does indeed decide to sue the FBI for

I think the figure is $446 million,

then you and I both
will most certainly be co-defendants.

And second of all... I don't
even have a second of all, Mulder.

$446 million.

I'm in this as deep as you,
and I'm not the one that overreacted!

I didn't do the... with the thing.

I did not overreact.
Strickland was a vampire.

- Where's your proof?
- You're my proof. You were there.

OK, now you're scaring me.
What will you tell Skinner?

- Oh you want our stories straight.
- I just want to hear it the way you saw it.

- I don't feel comfortable with that.
- Prison.

Your cell mate's nickname is gonna be Large
Marge. She's gonna read Gertrude Stein.

- All right.
- All right. Start at the beginning.

The very beginning?

Fine.

Yesterday morning, when I arrived at work,

you were, uh...

characteristically exuberant.

- Hope you brought your cowboy boots.
- You want us to go to Dallas?

Yee-ha! Actually, a town called Chaney

about 50 miles south of there,
population 361.

By all accounts very rustic
and charming, but as of late,

the locus for a series
of nocturnal exsanguinations.

Exsanguinations? Of whom?

How does that grab ya?

- It's a...
- Dead cow. Exactly.

A dead SOD-pound Holstein,
its body completely drained of blood.

As was this one, this one. This one,
this one and so on. Six, all in all.

- One a week over six weeks.
- Is there any sign of...?

- Two puncture wounds?
- Not what I was gonna ask.

Too bad, we got 'em. Check it out.

Well, these may be syringe marks
meant to emulate fangs.

Such ritualistic blood-letting points towards
cultists of some sort in which case...

- What?
- Yeah, that's probably it. Satanic cultists.

Come on!

You don't think
it's the Mexican goat sucker?

El Chupacabra? They got four fangs, not
two. And they suck goats, hence the name.

So instead this would be?

Classic vampirism.

- Of cows.
- And one dead human.

A vacationer from New Jersey.
Come on, we gotta go.

- Why didn't you tell me that from the start?
- Lock the door on your way out.

The town of Chaney is too small
to maintain a morgue facility.

As such, we made our way to
the Peaceful Slumbers funeral home

in order to examine the body of one
Mr Dwight Funt, recently deceased.

It was there that we were met by
a representative of local law enforcement.

- Sheriff.
- Lucius Hartwell.

- You the FBI agents?
- Yes, I'm...

Agents Mulder and...

- Scully. Let's go take a look at your victim.
- Yeah, by all means. After you.

Come on, Scully, get those
little legs movin'. Come on.

Boy.

Here we go.

Nice threads!

No exam has been done?

No. He's just like we found him in the motel.

Once I heard you folks were interested, I
figured we'd best leave it up to the experts.

Your satanic cultists
have some sharp little teeth.

- What satanic cultists?
- Go ahead. Tell him your "theory'.

Well, my theory has evolved.

Basically, I think we're looking for someone
who has seen too many Bela Lugosi movies.

- He believes he is a vampire, therefore...
- They act like one, yeah. Yeah.

That makes a whole lot of sense.

- I think she's right.
- What about the fang marks?

Well, someone so obsessed
might well file down their incisors.

A moulage casting should
help us make an identification.

Moulage casting.

That's a good idea.

Now, isn't there some kind of disease

that makes a person think
that they're a vampire?

Well, there is a psychological fixation
called haematodipsia,

which causes the sufferer to gain erotic
satisfaction from consuming human blood.

Erotic... Yeah.

There are also genetic afflictions

which cause a heightened
sensitivity to light, to garlic...

Porphyria. Xeroderma pigmentosum.

You really know your stuff, Dana.

"Dana"?

He never even knew your first name!

- You gonna interrupt me or what?
- No. Go ahead.

Dana.

Anyway, that's when you had
your big breakthrough. Whatever.

Agent Scully, you really know your stuff.

Sheriff, you say this man
is exactly as you found him?

Yes, sir, to the letter.

Have you noticed that
this man's shoes are untied?

- Yeah, they sure are.
- What's your point?

This means something.

Sheriff, do you have a cemetery in town,
off the beaten path - the creepier the better?

Uh yeah.

- Take me there.
- Mulder.

Scully, we're gonna need
a complete autopsy on this man.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

What am I even looking for?

I don't know.

- He does that.
- Come on, Sheriff Hartwell.

Ma'am.

4.54 p.m.

Begin autopsy on white male, aged 60,

who is arguably having
a worse time in Texas than I am.

Although not by much.
I'll begin with the Y incision.

Yee-ha.

Heart weighs 370 grams.

Tissue appears healthy.

Left lung weighs 345 grams.

Tissue appears healthy.

Large intestine, 890 grams.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Stomach contents show
last meal close to the time of death.

Consisting of... pizza.

Topped with pepperoni,

green peppers,

mushrooms...

Mushrooms...

That sounds really good.

Having completed the autopsy, I checked
into the Davey Crockett Motor Court.

The name of it was actually
the Sam Houston Motor Lodge.

Oh, my God.

Chloral hydrate.

What?

What the hell happened to you?

Nothin'. Chloral hydrate?

That thing you didn't know
you were looking for: chloral hydrate.

More colorfully known as knockout drops.

I found it in abundance when I sent
the tox screen in on our murder victim.

- No, seriously, what happened to you?
- Nothing. Who slipped him the Mickey?

My "theory'? Your vampire.

He found it necessary to dope poor Mr Funt

to the gills before he could
extract his blood.

Probably did it to the cows, too.

What kind of vampire would do that?

Exactly.

We got another dead tourist.
You gotta do another autopsy.

Tonight?

I just put money in the Magic Fingers.

I won't let it go to waste.

This one's my room, Mulder.
Don't get mud everywhere.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. OK.

Excuse me, ma'am. Did you order a pizza?

Yeah. The guy in there'll pay for it.

Forgoing both dinner and sleep,

I was soon back at the funeral home
examining one Mr Paul Lombardo,

from Naples, Florida.

Heart.

Lung.

Large intestine.

As with the previous victim, it appears that
the subject was most likely incapacitated

with chloral hydrate
and then exsanguinated.

The drug was either injected or ingested -
I'm not sure which.

Scully.

Hello?

Hello?

Where was I? Stomach contents.

Stomach contents include...

pizza.

The chloral hydrate's in the pizza.

The pizza guy.

Mulder!

Mulder?

That's it?

Well, luckily, I'd gotten there in time.

I mean, though you were drugged,
you were more or less unharmed.

Mulder? Are you OK?

Who's the black private dick
who's a sex machine with all the chicks?

Shaft

Can ya dig it?
They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother...

Shut your mouth. Talkin' 'bout Shaft.

I did not.

Long story short.

Though my first four shots obviously
missed Ronnie Strickland entirely,

with my fifth I was able
to shoot out a tyre on his car,

forcing him to escape on foot.

I left you behind and I entered
the woods in pursuit.

I assumed that you were incapacitated.
Then I heard screaming.

When I arrived in the clearing,
I found you'd caught up with him first

and had... overreacted.

- And that his vampire teeth were fake.
- That's what you'll tell Skinner?

Well, I'm gonna argue
that we caught a killer.

An utterly non-supernatural killer,
but a killer, nonetheless.

And that your zeal to catch up with him

was augmented by
the chloral hydrate you were given.

- You are afraid to tell the truth.
- Excuse me?

That's not it at all. What are you afraid of?

That if you tell it the way it really happened,
you'll look like an idiot - like me?

Mulder, why don't you tell me
the way you think it happened?

Starting at the beginning.

You're damn right. Yesterday morning
began like any other morning.

You arrived at the office
characteristically less than exuberant.

I hope you brought your cowboy boots.

Why are we going to Dallas?

Actually, it's a little town
south of there called Chaney, Texas.

They've had some incidents down there
recently which are pretty unusual.

Like what?

I brought some slides with which
to better illustrate. Here we go.

- It's a dead cow.
- It's actually six dead cows.

- And here's the interesting thing...
- Why am I looking at six dead cows?

Um, because of the way in which they died.
All six were mysteriously exsanguinated.

- And?
- And two little puncture marks on the neck.

Look. I got a slide of that.

And, um, one dead human victim.
Last night. A vacationer from New Jersey.

His body completely drained of blood
and two little puncture wounds on his neck.

OK, look, Scully, I don't want to
jump to any hasty conclusions,

but on the strength of the evidence that we
have, I think that what we may be looking at

is what appears to be a series
of vampire or vampire-like attacks.

On what do you base that?

Uh, well, on the corpses drained of blood
and the fang marks on the neck.

But as always, I'm very eager
to hear your opinion.

- Well, it's obviously not a vampire.
- Well, why not?

Because they don't exist?

Well, that's one opinion and I respect that.

Nonetheless, a murder
has been committed here,

and we can help bring a killer to justice -

in whatever form,
mortal or immortal, he may take.

It's not that Mexican goat sucker either.

Upon arrival,
I made an interesting observation.

One which you apparently didn‘t hear.

- That's a whole lot of caskets.
- Largest in-stock selection in the state.

Well, why would a town
with a population of only 361 need that?

Repeat business.

Mortician humour. Excuse me.

Apparently,
your mind was somewhere else.

Oh, boy!

Y'all must be the government people.

I'm Lucius Hartwell.

He had big buckteeth?

- He had a slight overbite.
- No, he didn't.

And that's significant? Hum

I'm just trying to be thorough.

- So anyway, we went to look at the body.
- Here we go.

- No exam has been done?
- This is just like we found him in the motel.

No exam has been done?

Uh, no, ma'am.

Once I heard y'all was interested,
I figured we'd best leave it to the experts.

Now uh... that can't be
what it looks like, right?

It depends on what you think it looks like.

Vampires have always been with us,

in myths and stories
passed down from early man.

From the Babylonian Ekimmu,
to the Chinese Kuang-Shi,

the Motetz Dam of the Hebrews,

the Mormo of ancient Greece and Rome,
right down to the more familiar Nosferatu.

Mormo, yeah.

In short, Sheriff, no,
this can't be what it looks like.

I think what we're dealing with here
is simply a case of some lunatic,

who, uh... has watched too many
Bela Lugosi movies.

He wishes that he could transfigure
himself into a creature of the night.

Yeah, OK.

What she said, that's what
I'm thinkin', and, uh...

- Yeah.
- But still that leaves us in a quandary,

because there are
as many kinds of vampires

as there are cultures that fear them.

Some don't even subsist on blood.
The Bulgarian Ubour eats only manure.

Thank you.

To the Serbs, a prime indicator
of vampirism was red hair.

Uh, some vampires
are thought to be eternal,

others to have a life span of only 40 days.

Sunlight kills certain vampires, while others
are thought to come and go as they please.

If there is a point, feel free to come to it.

We don't know exactly what we're looking
for. What kind of vampire or, if you prefer,

what kind of vampire
this killer wishes himself to be.

Now, why is it so important
that his shoes were untied?

We're gettin' to it. So,
while you did the autopsy,

the sheriff drove me to the town cemetery.

Agent Mulder, you mind me
askin' you why we're out here?

Historically, cemeteries are
thought to be a haven for vampires,

as are castles, catacombs and swamps -
but you don't have any of those.

We used to have swamps, only the EPA
made us take to callin' 'em wetlands.

Yeah. So we're here
lookin' for signs of vampiric activity.

Which would be...

Broken or shifted tombstones,
the absence of birds singing.

There you go. Cos I ain't
hearin' any birds singin'.

Right? Course it's winter and we ain't got
no birds, but... Is there anything else?

A faint groaning -
the sound of manducation,

of the creature eating its own death shroud.

No. No man... ma... ma...

- Manducation.
- ..manducation, no.

Sheriff, I know my methods
may seem a little odd to you, but...

Look, y'all work for the federal government.
That's all I need to know.

I mean, CIA, secret service,
y'all run the show, so...

It's just that my gut instinct tells me
that the killer will visit this place.

That it may well hold some fascination,
some kind of siren call for him, you know?

- Howdy, Sheriff.
- Oh, hey, Ronnie. How's it goin'?

- Can't complain.
- Well, all right, then.

Maybe after nightfall, Sheriff,
but he'll come.

Oh, he'll come.

So, we staked out the cemetery.

Mulder? Shoelaces?

- Hm?
- On the corpse.

You were going to tell me what was so
meaningful about finding untied Shoelaces.

I'm gettin' to it.

Sunflower seed? Sorry.

No, thanks.

Do you mind... do you mind me
asking you what you were...?

Historically certain seeds
are thought to fascinate vampires.

Chiefly oats and millet,
but you make do with what you have.

Remember when I said that we didn't know
what type of vampire we were looking for?

Well, there seems to be
one obscure fact which,

in all the stories told by
the different cultures, is the same,

and that's that vampires are really,
really obsessive-compulsive.

You toss a handful of seeds at one,
no matter what he's doin' he'll pick it up.

If he sees a knotted rope, he's gotta untie it.

In fact, that's why I'm guessing that
our victim's shoelaces were untied.

Yeah. Obsessive...

Like Rain Man.

It's like when that old boy dropped
the matchsticks, he had to pick 'em all up.

Well, he didn't actually
pick 'em up. He counted 'em.

Oh, yeah, sorry. 247,
right off the top of his head.

Well, if he picked 'em up,
then he would have been a vampire.

I'll tell you what.
I know I'm in law enforcement,

but I'd like to take him
to Vegas myself. Am I right?

- Well, that would be illegal.
- He was like a calculator.

- Yeah.
- Sheriff you got your radio on?

Excuse me. Hey, Charlene, what's up?

I got a call from the RV park.
They got something of a situation there.

Sounds like you might wanna have a look.

Hey again, Sheriff.

Hey again, Ronnie.

I guess you got yourself a runaway.

Well, yeah, Ronnie. I guess we do.

What do you think?
We ought to shoot the tyres out?

- Anyway, skipping ahead...
- Why skip ahead?

What happened then?

Mulder, you shot out the tyres,
and what then?

Here's something
you may not know.

Shooting out the tyres on a runaway RV

is a lot harder than it looks.

I then tried a different approach.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Argh! Oh! Help!

- Ohhh!
- Come on, bird-dog it! Attaway!

Ow!

How you doin' there? All right?

Finally, we prevailed.

That's the same as the others.

Right down to the shoes.

We interviewed everyone present.

No one had seen anything.

Tired, frustrated, and lacking a solid lead,
I just wanted to get cleaned up.

I had the sheriff drop me at the motel,
which is where I ran into you.

Whaddaya mean, you want me
to do another autopsy?

Why do we have to do it right now? I just
spent hours on my feet doing an autopsy!

I do it all for you!
I haven't eaten since 6.00 a.m.,

and that was half of a cream-cheese bagel -
and it wasn't even real cream cheese,

And now you want me
to run off and do another autopsy?

What the hell happened to you?

- Finally, you left.
- Don't you touch that bed.

Hello?

Hello? Uh, hey again.

The lady outside, she said that,
um, you'd pay for this.

She ordered a pizza from you?

- Excellent. How much?
- $12.98.

I'll get my wallet.

- How much?
- It's $12.98.

- Well, here's $13.
- OK, then.

Enjoy.

Ah, Scully.

So, I ate your dinner.

And that's when I saw it.

But by then it was too late.

Scully.

- Uhh...
- Hello?

Hello?

- Creep.
- Uhh...

Aw, man!

What'd you have to go and do that for?

You are in big trouble.

Agh...

Then I was out cold.

I don't know for how long,
but when I finally came to...

Mulder?

Argh!

You're saying that
I actually hit him two times?

- Square in the chest. No effect.
- Then he flew at me like a flying squirrel?

Well, I don't think I'll use the phrase
"flying squirrel" when I talk to Skinner, but,

yeah, that's what happened.

You checked on me, then left
to pursue Strickland into the woods.

Once I recovered, I knew what I had to do.

Help me! Help!

I caught sight of him,
chased him over hill and dale.

And in the end...

Mulder, it's not just me.

Nobody in their right mind
will ever believe that story.

They'll have to, once they examine
Ronnie Strickland's body.

Case 0026198.

Ronald LaVeIIe Strickland.

Probable cause of death...
Gee, that's a tough one.

Assistant Director Skinner's office.

Oh, I'm sorry.
He's about to go into a meeting.

Yes, it may last several hours.

You're welcome.

Mulder. Please just keep
reminding him you were drugged.

- Would you stop that?
- Couldn't hurt.

Just stop it.

- Scully, Mulder.
- I was drugged.

I want you back in Texas. Strickland's
body has disappeared from the morgue.

Apparently, the coroner's been attacked.
His throat was bitten.

- The coroner's dead?
- No, his throat was bitten.

He was sort of... gnawed on.

Daylight's burning, Agents.

But... he was dead.

I noticed that.

- With a stake through his heart.
- I noticed that too,

So we should find
Ronnie out here because...?

Because tradition states that
a vampire needs to sleep in his native soil.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

But, Mulder, he had fake fangs.

Why would a real vampire need fake fangs?
I mean, for the sake of argument.

Well, fangs are rarely mentioned
in the folklore.

Real vampires aren't thought to have them.
It's more an invention of Bram Stoker's.

I think you were right when you said

this was a guy who's seen
too many Dracula movies.

He just happens to be a real vampire.

Well, so where the hell is he?

What about his family,
who were gonna sue us for $446 million?

Well, an aunt and an uncle.

Their mail comes general delivery
to a local post office.

No home address?

It's the sheriff.

Sheriff Hartwell.

Evenin', Agents. I heard
y'all were back in town.

- Thought I might be of some assistance.
- Yeah, actually, you can.

You can stay here with Agent Scully

and keep an eye on things
while I check somethin' out.

Don't say I never did nothin' for ya.

Where are you going?

Where might you be living if your mail
came general delivery around here?

The RV park?

You're good.

- Thanks.
- You're very welcome.

So, what do you think about vampires?

You mean, aside from the fact
that I don't believe in them?

Yeah, aside from that.

Well, they're supposed to be
extremely charming.

Seductive.

No, I mean, even if they did really exist,
who's to say they'd actually be like that?

As Agent Mulder says, "There are
many different kinds of vampires."

Yeah. There sure are.

I really need to apologize to you
about Ronnie. He makes us all look bad.

He's just not who we are any more. I mean,
we pay taxes, we're good neighbours.

Old Ronnie, he just... he can't
quite seem to grasp the concept of...

low profile.

But though he may be a moron,
he is one of our own.

Hello.

Sleeping late.

Ronnie Strickland.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

Come on, cut it out, Ronnie.

Oh, damn.

Back.

Argh! No! Aaaaarggh!

Mulder.

Scully, what happened?

I came to in the cemetery.

That's all I know.

They pulled up stakes.

So that’s it?

They simply disappeared without a trace?

I can neither confirm nor deny
the version of events

which occurred outside my presence.

And I can neither confirm nor deny
Agent Scully's version of events, but...

Anyway, I was drugged.

That is,

essentially, exactly the way it happened.

Essentially.

Except for the part
about the buckteeth.