01x03 - Lot 36

Episode transcripts for the TV show, "Guillermon del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities". Aired: October 25, 2022.
Bizarre nightmares unfold in eight tales of terror in a visually stunning, spine-tingling horror collection curated by Guillermo del Toro.
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01x03 - Lot 36

Post by bunniefuu »

A sh**ting star

crossing the vast, indifferent night sky.

Perhaps carrying an answer
to that age-old question,

are we alone in the universe?

Recorded on a modest device,

stained with blood and death,

the answer is
a decidedly terrifying... "no."

Our story today is The Autopsy.

And its director David Prior.

What are you doing?

Joe, what the f*ck
are you doing up there?

You're gonna k*ll us!
Are you f*cking crazy?

What the f*ck is wrong with you, man?

You trying to k*ll us?

What the f*ck is that?

You're so thin.

They could use you for a whip.

What's your secret?

- Ah, you know, biology.
- Hell, Carl. It's good to see you.

- You too, Nate. It's been too long.
- Give me that.


Ooh. Must be exhausted.

Did you eat? I can send someone.

No, no, no. Coffee is just fine.

How's Emma?

Oh. She's well.

How are the kids?

It's an empty nest almost.

Thank God!

Yeah, and Cindy, she's in love, and...

Nate Jr. wants to be a... a lawyer now.


Sure I can't get you something to eat?

Why don't you tell me what's going on?

What did they say in Montague?

Not too much. Ten men d*ad.

Nine men.

And one inhuman son of a b*tch.

What would you call a man who...

As bad as that?

- What's Waddleton gonna do?
- Uh-huh.

It is the position
of the coroner's office,

workman's compensation law being clear,
that death benefits shall only accrue

to dependents of those whose deaths arise
out of the course of their employment.

Not merely in the course
of their employment.

Death by lunatic does not obtain.

He just about ordered me to find cause
for a second autopsy in the city.

Oh, that's Fordham Mutual talking.

Certainly it is, and they've bought
every election he's ever stood.

If they had their way,
the families wouldn't see a dime

to bury their men with.

It's unconscionable.

What am I gonna find, Nate?

Was there a b*mb?

The investigators concluded
that there was strong,

presumptive evidence of a b*mb.

That's the best they could do?

- Mm-hmm.
- Hmm.

- And what do you think?
- I think I'm cursed.


Well, for laxity

and uselessness.

The innocent get punished
and everything is just dust.

I... I think I'm cursed by the Lord.
I truly do.

Nate, I've known you 40 years.

From the bottom of my heart,

you're not that special.

That's ego.

Who are you to claim special qualities
of sin from the rest of us?

If you're cursed,

we're all cursed.

And I meant that
in the nicest possible way.

You're right. I'm getting maudlin.



this is one of those nightmare specials.

The kind you never get to the bottom of.

Tell me what happened.

Two months ago...

...a man came up missing.

Ronald Hanley.

Mill worker, family man,

just vanishes without a trace.

About a week later,

the lady who ran the laundromat,
she disappears too.

Six people, just over a month,


This way!

My deputies and I,

we might as well have stayed in bed,
all the good we did.

Nothing from the western leg,
even if we pull some volunteers...

Over here! We found something.


we found a body.

Well, open it! What are you waiting for?

Wasn't animal work.

It was Kn*fe work.

All the edges butchered clean.

But butchered meat will bleed
even after you drain it.

There wasn't one g*dd*mn drop of blood.

It was pale as fish meat.

A cache, then?

Yeah. Yeah.

Like you might put a... a pot roast
in the icebox for making sandwiches.

One more.

This arm over here.

That's it.

Okay, wrap him up.

Tie him back up in that tree.

- Yes, sir.
- You men, you're hunters?

- Yes, sir.
- Yes, sir.

All right.
Consider yourself Posse Comitatus.

Whatever left that will be back for it.

- I need one of you, uh...
- Jim Dodge, sir.

- Dodge?
- Yeah.

Stake out that ridge over there. Will you?

- Yeah, and...
- Owens.

- Owens.
- Owens.

Uh, we need you to cover
that area south there, all right?

Oh, I think
the better spot's over there, sir.

It's a better view of the path there.

Yeah, well, okay. Obviously,
I've got the right man for the job.

You guys will take first watch.

Lawrence, Davis,
give these men your jackets.

It's gonna get cold tonight.
Give them a couple radios too.

I took the film to be developed,

gave the prints to Sophie to have them
telexed to every county in the state.

Okay, we're going into town.

Anything happens, anything at all,
don't do a thing, just observe. Okay?

We'll be back in five hours.

Then a piss and a spit,
and went right back.




Dodge, can you hear me?

Come in, Dodge.


No sign of them at all?

I wanted to chew nails and break necks.

Next morning, I got a call
from the sheriff over in Rakehell,

says our corpse resembled a man
named Abel Dougherty,

a mill worker over at Conwood.

He'd been missing too.

He was last seen at a bar
called Trucker's Tavern

during that onion snow we had.

- Maggie's Farm, my girl. With ice.
- Got it.

And a Hamm's to back it up.

Right on. Trucker's.

Hey, Travis! Phone!


- Excuse me?
- Eddie Sykes.

The hell are you doing here?

You got me confused with some other body.
My name's Joe Allen.

The hell it is. You're Eddie Sykes.

We've been working together
at Conwood for a co*n's age.

Where the hell you been?

You either had too much
or not enough, my friend.

Supposed to go angling for steelhead
two months ago. You never showed.

Steelhead? I would've showed.

But you didn't.

Who is it you think I am again?

I thought we was friends.

Yeah, course we are.

- Where did you go, Eddie? You just up...
- Like I said, I'm Joe Allen.

You're confused.

Why are you doing this?

I'll tell you,

but not here.

Somewhere quiet.
We don't want these yokels hearing, do we?

It's a secret.

And we're friends, aren't we?



I mean, you said so, didn't you?

Maybe we could be best friends.

- I...
- Knock your beer onto the floor.

Be sloppy.

Call me your friend.

Ask me to drive you home.


Do it now.

Shit, man.

Look what you've done.
Maybe you need a ride.

- No.
- Let's have your keys, you big oaf.

Come on.

I'll drive you home.

Sykes was an itinerant worker.

He was reported missing nine months ago.

Told a buddy of his
he was going hiking in the woods.

He wanted to check out a meteor shower.

Never came back to work.

A week later, he shows up in Bailey

under the name of Joe Allen.

I understand you've got
a Joe Allen staying here?

Well, yes, he's at work right now,
but you're welcome to come in and...

Mr. Allen!

Sheriff's Department!

Coming in!

Hey, didn't your mama
teach you to share?

Sorry, not enough for you!

I should pick you dry!

My goodness me!

Yo, that was good.

But I'm still hungry!

Yeah? So am I.

to the Honeycomb's hideout!

A giant!

I'm a big giant,
and I want a big cereal.

♪ Honeycomb's big, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ It's not small, no, no, no ♪

♪ Honeycomb's got a big, big bite... ♪

What is this?

I'm sure I don't know.

He said, that his...

I saw him bringing it in,
and he said he got it in the woods.

In the woods?

That's right.

He found it during that meteor shower.

I hate it.

It smells and got hairs on it.

I asked him to toss it in the bin,
but he gave me such a look.

Isn't there a shift change
coming up at Braddock?

About ten minutes.

Lawrence, this is Craven.

Meet me at the Braddock Forks Mine
on the double.

Muster whatever deputies you can.
And, Sophie, call ahead.

Suspect is a miner named Joe Allen
or possibly Edward Sykes.

Soon as you get there,

lay down a perimeter
and keep him buttoned the hell up.

You got a Joe Allen
on duty here today?

Joe Allen, yeah.

Uh, let's go inside and see
what we got for you, Sheriff.


He's right there, Sheriff.

Joe Allen!

- Hey, you. Freeze!
- Hold it. Hold it.

Hey. Hey!

Get him!

Hey! Hey!

Which way?

What the hell are you doing?

What the f*ck are you doing up there?

Damn! Seal the exits!

Hey. Hey! Stop that damn elevator!

Bring that thing back up here!

They're headed to the 260.
I can stop them but not before the 92!

I don't give a shit! Get it back up here!

No way out. How could he get out
without coming back up the shaft?

Outta the way!

You think Allen set off the expl*si*n?

He must have.

Maybe it was intentional.

Maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it has something to do
with that damn ball of his.

No trace of that could we find, no.

What I can't figure out is
how did he know that thing was in my car?

He could've made it to the tree line.

Instead, he fetched
that damn trophy of his. Hmm?

Knowing that he was boxed in.

Doesn't make any sense.

Listen, Carl.

I can't ask you to...

How far is the river?

About 100 yards or so.

Good runs this time of year.

I'll take you if you want to go
as soon as we get through with this mess.


I'd like that.


what's going on?

I have stomach cancer.

Six months left, they say.


It's okay.

That's how it goes.

No point complaining.

You've made your peace
with this thing, then?

What's the alternative?
Can't do anything about it.

We're all on the same conveyor belt, Nate.

Some of us fall off a bit sooner
than the rest, but...

we're all heading
for the same destination.

Davis, this is Dr. Winters.

Dr. Winters, Sheriff.
Everything's shipshape inside.

How low did we get that temperature?

Won't go no lower. Some kind of leak.

That should be cold enough.

Brought a table
from the meat plant and gurneys.

Thank you, Deputy Davis.
That's just fine.

You can get on back. Be here sunup.

I'm sorry we don't have a real facility.

Brought a generator down from the mine.
And some work lights.

I know it's not ideal,


It'll work.

We got you set up
as best we could there.

Uh, phone's not hooked up,

but there's a pay phone
down at the gas station.

I couldn't have asked
for anything more, my friend.

You, uh... ready to see 'em?


I told my deputies
to give you a head start

with the clothes.

In fact, they only got
as far as the boots, I'm afraid.

I'll have to thank them.

All except this guy.

No one wanted to touch him.

f*cking animal.

I'm having crazy thoughts
with this thing, Carl.

Let it lie, Nate.

You need to go sleep.

- Yeah. Maybe you're right.
- Mm.

I don't know.
I just didn't want to leave you with this.

- Are you sure you're up to this?
- Take off the badge and lie down.

I'll be lucky to get through
more than just a few of them tonight.

I'll press you into service
in the morning.


Good night.

This is Dr. Carl Winters,

reporting pathologist
for the Montague County Coroner's Office,

recording my preliminary remarks

on the ten decedents
of the Braddock Fork Mine incident.

This recording's for you alone, Nate.

My typed report will serve
as the official record.

The main cluster of decedents
was uncovered 30 yards from suspect Allen.

Decedents Jackson and Brady
were found proximate to Allen.

A man named Miller was found alone
between the two groups.

If any of the bodies
contain b*mb fragments,

it would be this one.
I'll start with Miller.

Come on.

♪ ...have a pocketful of starlight ♪

♪ Catch a falling star
And put it in your pocket ♪

♪ Never let it fade away ♪

♪ Catch a falling star... ♪

I apologize for the indignity, my friend.

If it's any comfort, I'm right behind you.

♪ For love may come
And tap you on the shoulder ♪

♪ Some starless night ♪

♪ And just in case
You feel you wanna hold her ♪

♪ You'll have a pocketful of starlight ♪

♪ A pocketful of starlight ♪

♪ Catch a falling star
And put it in your pocket ♪

♪ Never let it fade away ♪

♪ Catch a falling star
And put it in your pocket ♪

♪ Save it for a rainy day... ♪

Me again, Nate.

Despite autolysis and putrefaction,

I see signs not inconsistent
with asphyxial death.

I'll also examine him internally
to establish a baseline.

If I see anything anomalous
on the other externals,

well, we'll cross that bridge
if we come to it.

♪ Catch a falling star
And put it in your pocket ♪

♪ Never let it fade away ♪

♪ Catch a falling star
And put it in your pocket ♪

♪ Save it for a rainy day... ♪

There is blood-tinged mucus,

expressed no doubt during his final agony.

Dirt under the fingernails, split,

presumably from clawing at the earth.

My apologies, Mr. Miller.

♪ Spirit in the wood, take away the pain ♪

♪ Make the body ripe and alive again ♪

♪ I similau ♪

♪ I similau ♪♪

♪ I similau ♪

♪ Spirit in the heart
Make the blood flow fast ♪

♪ Spirit in the heart
Make the beauty last ♪

♪ Keep the hope alive
When the youth go past... ♪

The lungs exhibit
subpleural ecchymosis

consistent with extreme
blunt force trauma,

probably from the expl*si*n.

The right half of the heart is distended
and engorged with dark blood,

along with the right coronary artery.

This is good, Nate.

I see signs of respiratory distress,
concussive trauma,

but nothing says "b*mb" to me,

nothing to prevent
a finding of death by crush asphyxiation.

Nothing for Waddleton to salivate over.

♪ Somewhere there's music ♪

♪ How faint the tune ♪

♪ Somewhere there's heaven... ♪

♪ How high the moon ♪

Run. Get out. Now.

Run from what?

New external, Nate.

One Walter Lou Jackson.

Per your photos,
Jackson was unearthed next to Allen.

Nate, I keep thinking...

What if the expl*si*n
wasn't a botched escape attempt?

What if that sphere wasn't a b*mb?

What if the sphere's destruction
was Allen's actual aim?

Not escape?

I found a small wound
at the bottom of Jackson's sternum.

It's deep.

Seems to curve through the diaphragm...

...toward the heart.

Forgive me, friend.
My curiosity necessitates opening you up.


The track of the wound
does lead to the heart.

The lungs and heart are shrunken
and abnormally pale.

Completely drained of blood.

There's no blood in Brady either.

Jackson, Brady...


I'm thinking crazy thoughts, Nate.

I'm thinking...

I wonder if all that blood's
in Allen's stomach.

I'll examine him.

Help me.

Trapped in this...



What are you?

I'm a traveler.

- Not of Earth.
- I don't...

My true form is small.


hideous to you.

I feared death.

The cave-in.

Death was your escape.

Maybe you don't need oxygen.

A lesser component of our metabolism.

Was the sphere...

My ship?

Its destruction is our first duty
facing discovery.

There was no chance to re-enter.
Leaving this takes too long.

So in the shaft was my only chance.

Why must your ship be destroyed?

We must not be understood.

Why not?

Put down the Kn*fe.

Do it now.

For we are friends, Doctor.

Livestock must not understand
what devours it?

Oh, fret not.
You will understand what devours you.

That is essential.

I can smell your cancer, Doctor.

It is delicious.

Come, let me rid you of it.
I will love you.

That body will be your coffin.
I'll see you buried in it.

It's rotten blood.

Thin nourishment.

Animating this and synapsing with you
is high cost.

Once you and I are one,
I will be near starvation again.

But you are a prize host, Dr. Winters.

Through you, I can feed
even when k*lling is too dangerous.

Meals are delivered to you still warm.

What the hell are you doing?

Well, we mustn't raise suspicion.
The cut must be forensically correct.

Have to be careful of the pectoral muscles
or I'll lose the use of these arms.

Why is my arm free?

Final neural splicing requires
a sensory-motor standard

to perfect my brain's fit to yours.

The rest of you is paralyzed,
but once this is done I will unbind you,

and we will be free together.

You're going to transfer yourself

from Allen into me?



Well, normally via the alimentary canal.

You see, over eons,

we have become perfectly streamlined
to facilitate our entry into other beings.

As a larva,
I entered Eddie Sykes' mouth as he slept.

But I've grown since then.

Oh, how I have grown.

We will have to make an incision.

You're going to use
your puppet there to pluck you out.

But once he's dislodged you,

won't he go limp and drop you?

I am quite more familiar
with your physiology

than even you, Doctor.

I know what I can and cannot cut.

The most supreme adaptations
are purchased at the cost of inessentials.

Our hosts already carry structures
for sight, sound, smell, locomotion.

It'd be quite redundant
to carry those capacities ourselves.

So we travel light.

No quaint fins or st*lks or feathers

terminating in hooks or...

suckers or little digits.

We've no use for any of it,

for we have transcended.

Have I amused you, Doctor?

You are truly self-deluded.

You're stalling for time.

It's already too late.

You really don't see it, do you?

- See what?
- You're jealous.


You have no senses of your own.

You have to steal them from others.

We have inhabited men for millennia.

We have caused great nations to fall.

- We have shaped–
- You've stolen everything you ever had.

You're nothing but a thief and m*rder.
A parasite. You're pathetic.

You're nothing but cancer
with a big mouth.

Your friend, the sheriff, will come soon.

Sunup, I believe.

He will make a fine first meal for us.

His flesh will nurture our body,

and your anguish as we consume him
will nurture my soul.

To say nothing at all of his.

Now where will we begin?

You know, it's a curious problem.

With careful flensing
of the superior and inferior extremities,

leaving the primary arteries intact,
a man can live for hours.

Oh, you can harvest meat all the way
to the coxal region before he dies.

He offers up his pain

along with his protein.

Finally, we can harvest
the arteries at our leisure.

But of course, the, uh,
flesh of the extremities is tough.

Now aside from the rump,

the organs are most toothsome,

but bring death much faster.

You think about it.
Let me know which you prefer.

Either way,

as I use your hands
to haul forth his smoking entrails,

and your mouth to guzzle them down,

the repeated orgasms that we will have
with your loins will be astounding.

You called yourselves our livestock,

but you're so much more.

I could've eked two weeks out
of Brady and Jackson if that was all.

But I reinvested
half the energy their blood gave me

to keep their brains alive.

That way I could whisper directly
into their eighth cranial nerves.

Just to make sure they understood
everything that I was doing to them.

And Eddie Sykes?

Oh, yes.
He is here with us right now.

Mute and powerless

as I disembowel him.

You're forgetting something.

I forget nothing.

Your arrogance makes you stupid.

What have I forgotten, sweet doctor?

Never mind.

I will know every thought
in your head in just a few moments,

all your memories, your senses.

And your fear.

Your suffering...

all mine.

All mine.

All mine.

Sykes knew you'd be blind and deaf
once you were out of him,

you sadistic bastard.



There must... there must be a way.

Not to survive, but...

What have you done?

We're communicating through
my eighth cranial nerve now, right?

Where am I?

You are in your new home,
but you won't be occupying it for long.

There's been some vandalism, I'm afraid.

The lights don't work.

You'll also find
the neighborhood a bit quiet.

I can still make you move.

We will await your friend's arrival.

And when he comes close, I will...

I should mention
the plumbing has a terminal leak.

You only have
a few more minutes before I bleed out.

I will live.

I will live.

Wouldn't you like
to know what you forgot?

The whole time you were forcing
poor Sykes to slice himself up,

you were being recorded.


My tape machine was running.

Oh no, no, no, no.

The tape ran out a while ago,

but I'm sure the portion that's left

will make for interesting listening
when my friend arrives.

Let me out!


This is Dr. Carl Winters,

reporting pathologist
for the Montague County Coroner's Office.

I'm leaving this recording
for you alone, Nate.

My typed report will serve
as the official record...
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