Previously on Early Edition... GARY: If that's the same cat,
then I figure all I got to do is find out about this guy.
What can I do for you? I was wondering if I could get a look at the archives.
Lucius Snow-- that's the fella's name.
He set the Truman headline
a whole day before anybody else knew.
Yeah, all the type, all set before it happened.
(meowing)
CHUCK: The past is never over.
The future's never begun.
That's what someone said.
Don't ask me who.
When you think about it, though,
it kind of makes sense.
Like yesterday's dinner is tomorrow's leftovers,
or something like that.
The thing is, most of us live in the now.
You know, get up in the morning,
brush your teeth, put on your socks.
Easy.
Until you start getting tomorrow's news today.
(door whooshing)
Then everything changes,
and nothing will ever quite be the same again.
(train rattling)
(theme music playing)
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♪ ♪
Come on, let's go to work.
We got a newspaper to put out here.
Here's the president's visit story you asked for.
Hanley, you missed your deadline again.
No excuses.
Rowlney, you put me to sleep again.
Doesn't anyone write the news around here?
Who else is covering the presidential story?
(drill whirring)
MAN: A little more slack on that cord.
MAN 2: Is that the new bit?
MAN 1: Yeah.
(humming)
(indistinct shouting)
MAN 2: Looks good.
MAN 3: What's taking so long?
Almost there.
Good, 'cause we got eight more lines to go.
It's through. I can feel it.
Whoa!
(debris clinking)
(rumbling and hissing)
What is that?
MARISSA: Okay, is that everything?
GARY: Rent, utilities, clothes.
CHUCK: Don't forget cat food.
GARY: No. I got the cat food.
Now, where's the cat?
(whirring) MARISSA: What does it come to?
Whatever it is, it isn't enough.
It is for me. CHUCK: Man,
I have been coming here every month
and having to watch you make a budget. A budget.
When you could have more cash than the Prince of Brunei.
Monks in Tibet make more money than you.
It's starting to drive me crazy.
Well, then go. Oh, no, no, no.
Pathetic as it may seem, this is the one time in my life
when I know I can actually beat the odds.
That is pathetic.
Thank you, Marissa. (cat mewing)
(paper thuds against door)
(door squeaks open)
(cat yowls) Good morning.
(mewing)
Look,
all I'm suggesting is that
we take a more prudent financial approach.
Say, uh, throw in season tickets
to the Bulls for a few years, huh?
What's this? What?
Those marks all over the headline.
So?
So it's a sloppy headline.
Wait a minute. Let me see that.
Get out of here.
Come on.
MARISSA: You never give up, do you, Chuck?
(sighs)
How do you expect me to bet on a horse
if I can't see the race results?
Just keeping you honest,
if that's not a contradiction in terms.
GARY: All right. Here's one-- third race
at Pimlico.
Three-six-two trifecta pays 160.
Okay. How much we putting down?
Oh. Uh...
Ten.
Here's 16.
16 bucks? That's it?
Yeah. What if we do a little negotiation?
No.
Another grand? No.
My own money?
Do you want me to go?
You know, it's embarrassing what I have to do
to help you pay your rent.
(laughs)
Three-six-two.
Don't get creative on me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Now that your finances are done,
what's next?
I don't know.
Yes, I do.
HAWKS: What do you mean, the mail hasn't come yet?
Where are we, Timbuktu?
Mr. Hawks, I... Never mind.
I'll get it myself.
Stafford, you misspelled brassiere again.
A little thing called spell check, okay?
There's someone here to see you, sir.
Where?
He's over there.
I don't know him.
Ask him to leave.
Junk. Junk.
He is from the government, sir.
Whose government?
Ours.
Okay. Here, open this for me, will you?
No. On second thought, it might be personal.
(loud overlapping chatter)
Good morning.
Harry Hawks.
You're looking for me?
I am.
Well, what can I do for you?
GARY: Don't open that!
Don't open that.
Hey, wait. That's my mail.
GARY: Everybody
get down! MAN: Why?
Everybody get down!
(loud chatter)
MAN: Get down! Get down!
(explosion)
(women screaming)
MAN: Are you all right?
WOMAN: What is it?
(bell ringing)
MAN: Are you hurt?
Who the hell is that?
You all right, Mister, uh...?
Dobbs. John Dobbs.
Secret Service.
Secret Service, huh?
What are you doing here?
Special assignment, Washington.
What kind of special assignment?
Well, you can call and check me out,
Detective, uh...
Crumb.
I suggest you do that.
Oh, don't worry, I will.
Detective?
So, you got statements? Yup.
Uh, what have we got?
Letter bomb.
At least that's what he says.
We're running forensics.
You again.
No. Don't... Don't tell me.
You had another one of those flashes?
Really?
What kind of flashes?
It's kind of hard to explain.
I imagine it is.
I don't get it. Who'd want to kill me?
I'm an editor. They'd just get another one.
Hey, don't worry about it.
Whoever this guy is, we're gonna find him.
In the meantime, you can go.
Come on, I'll buy you lunch.
Near death experiences
always make me hungry.
Excuse me. First, I'd like to talk
to you two.
Oh.
Me?
It'll just take a minute.
Oh, no, I can't. I've...
I insist, Gary.
Do you mind if we use your office?
What?
Oh, sure.
Go right ahead.
(loud, overlapping chatter)
First of all, I hope I can count on some discretion
concerning what I'm about to say.
How about we order lunch in?
Uh, listen, I'm sure this is none of my business,
so why don't I...? Oh, I think it is.
Okay. We'll wait on lunch. Gentlemen,
the president is due in town day after tomorrow.
He's here to make a speech.
I'm here to make sure that everything goes well.
One guy? I thought they had a whole team for that.
Oh, they do.
Protection, surveillance,
security.
They know what to look for.
My job is different.
I work in the background.
I'm what you might call a... a hunter.
Hunting for what?
Oh, most anything.
People with grudges, people with plans,
the odd schizophrenic,
garden variety nut,
the one who hasn't shown up on the radar screen
yet.
My job is to see that he doesn't.
HAWKS: And that's why
you came to see me? It's funny
the things that pass through a newspaper editor's office.
Huh. For instance, uh, people
who think that they know things that the rest of us don't.
(door opening)
This confab just about over?
Some of us
have work to do.
I think we're finished for now.
I'm sure we'll be talking again soon.
Yeah.
(siren blaring, overlapping, indistinct chatter)
So, where do I reach you
in the unlikely event that I should want to.
Right here will do.
Do you want to show me an office,
or shall I pick out one myself?
So he called you a nut?
In so many words, yes, among other things.
Well, he might be right.
You are kind of, uh...
(clears throat): ...different.
There's a booth over at table two.
The only reason I'm different is 'cause I get this paper.
Other than that, I'm completely normal.
You sure about that?
Yeah. (sighs)
Look, knock it off, will you?
Mm-hmm. You saved a guy's life today.
You should feel good about that. Sit, Spike.
Yeah, except for, he probably thinks
I'm the one that sent the damn thing.
Who? Hawks?
No, this Agent Dobbs.
What is wrong with this thing?
The headline's getting worse.
CHUCK: Excuse me, Spike.
(Spike growls, Chuck clears his throat)
Well...
I'm back.
Did you make it to the racetrack?
Yeah, I made it to the track.
Did you make the bet?
Yep.
And?
We have a little problem.
What kind of a problem?
It's not my fault.
I was going to do exactly as you told me.
The three-six-two horse, the third race,
trifecta, 16 bucks.
So what happened?
Last minute scratch.
What do you mean "last minute scratch"?
That's impossible, it's in the paper.
I don't care what was in the paper.
The paper was wrong.
The three horse came up lame.
So I had to bet on my lucky number: seven.
And you lost?
Au contraire.
You won?
Yep.
Well, how much did you win?
42 grand and change.
Oh, my God.
Hello.
But not only that,
look at the name of the seven horse,
the one that won, the third race.
Go ahead, look it up.
What's it say?
Number seven, "Mr. Snow's Cat."
I don't believe it.
Told you.
GARY: So it's coincidence.
It could have been any name.
Exactly.
It happened to be Mr. Snow's Cat.
Sure. You picked a number, you won.
There's nothing mystical about that.
No, it could happen to anyone. That's right.
Except that the name of the horse
happens to be the same name of a certain typesetter
that got the paper before you did.
And his cat who you happen to share an apartment with.
And a... Look, enough already.
If you find proof, great.
Otherwise, coincidence.
MORRIS: Mr. Hobson.
Morris.
From the Sun-Times, remember? The Archives.
Yeah, how are you?
I brought you something.
Figured you'd be interested.
Just turned up today in a hole in the wall.
Where'd you find this?
Wasn't me.
Telephone guys.
They were installing new lines when the wall caved in.
Being as how I'm the archivist...
Wait a minute.
It was in the wall?
Why? Got me.
They renovated the place in '65.
Maybe it got put in by mistake.
Somehow I doubt that.
Not when it comes to Lucius Snow.
Anyway, now that you've got it, I'll be going.
Where you going? You just got here; take a load off.
Let's just say, I'm superstitious.
Last time I got involved in that stuff,
it almost got me killed.
Call me
if you need me, which I hope you don't.
So you gonna open it?
I don't know.
Maybe he's right.
Maybe it's none of my business.
Nah. Nah. Open it.
Yeah, go ahead.
All right.
Another newspaper?
What'd you expect? Old bones?
Gary, what is it?
"Saturday, November 23, 1963, Kennedy Killed.
"John F. Kennedy, 35th President of the United States
"was shot and killed today in Dallas,
"12:59, local time.
"The president, enjoying new popularity
"all through the South, was waving from his motorcade
"when the shots were fired.
(gunshots)
"24-year-old Lee Harvey Oswald has been charged with the crime
"and is expected to be formally booked this afternoon.
"The nation has gone into mourning
for its fallen hero."
Okay, so the guy leaves a newspaper
some 30 years old, what's the point?
Don't you see?
He knew it was going to happen.
What?
He read about it in his paper, the day before.
Somehow he knew about it all:
the when, the where, the how.
No, it's more than that.
He was there.
DOBBS: Ah, Crumb.
Mind if I borrow your desk?
Apparently not.
Anything else I can do for you?
Well, I've been browsing through some of your files.
Interesting reading.
Couldn't help but notice a common thread
running through a lot of them.
And what would that be?
Well, Hobson...
Hobson, Hobson, and, uh,
Hobson.
Kind of a theme, don't you think?
You're wasting your time.
The kid's harmless. "Harmless"?
Seems like every time something happens, he's around.
I don't know. He, uh...
gets these feelings, I guess.
He gets feelings, and things blow up and fall down?
What are you saying?
He's making this up?
Well, let's say he's the fireman
who sets the fires and then shows up to put them out.
This doesn't seem strange to you?
I see things different, that's all.
I think he's trouble.
I think you're making a mistake.
I don't make mistakes.
I can't afford to.
Neither can you.
(meows)
Airline tickets, hotel reservations,
car rentals.
So the guy took a trip, that's all.
There must be a clue in there somewhere,
some kind of message.
Maybe he meant to just throw all this stuff away.
You don't really believe that, do you?
He hid the damn thing in a wall.
Yeah? Well, why?
Look, we knew the guy was in Dallas.
We knew he was there the day it happened.
So the question is:
Where did he go? What did he do?
There's something we're not seeing.
There's... what is that?
Hmm? That.
What is it?
It's a business card.
"U.S. Secret Service, J.T. Marley."
Bingo! Bingo?
Snow needed help, that's who he went to.
We have to find this Marley guy.
What, you expect to find this guy after 30 years?
Yeah, what do you want us to do?
Knock on the Secret Service's door and say,
"Hey, excuse me. Is J.T. in?"
Morris.
Oh, no, not me.
I told you I'm superstitious.
Come on, Morris, it's a favor.
Just a little research, that's all.
That's what you said last time.
Why is this so important anyway?
Was Snow some kind of a crook?
No, it's not that, it's just,
I need to know a little bit more about the guy, that's all.
So you want me to break into government files
and find you a name just like that?
Well, you're right.
You probably wouldn't be able to figure that out anyhow.
MORRIS: Probably should have my head examined
for letting you talk me into this.
Okay, here we go.
You sure you know what you're doing, Morris?
You don't work in the basement 30 years
without learning some tricks.
Let's see what happens.
Well, you're breaking into Secret Service files.
This is not the Secret Service.
This is the IRS.
Taxes.
By department zip code.
Your bureaucracy
at work.
(beeping)
There.
Let's see Marley,
Marley, Marley...
I don't see it.
Maybe he never paid his taxes.
It happens.
What happens? Whoops.
What's going on here?
Uh, research.
Research on what?
Uh...
Bolivian finches.
Bobtailed Bolivian finches.
White-breasted bobtailed Bolivian finches, very rare.
Cute. Now, get out of here.
This isn't a public library.
Morris, check these out.
Stop tying up my employees on company time, huh?
Hey, Hawks, do you
remember a guy who used to work here?
He retired a few years ago, typesetter named
Lucius Snow?
Yeah.
White-haired guy?
Yeah. Had a cat?
Yeah.
Crackpot.
How's that?
Completely out of his mind.
Why?
Uh, well, nothing. It's, uh...
Nothing.
Well then, if you'll excuse me,
I've got tomorrow's edition to deal with.
Yeah, me, too.
What is it?
(meows)
(ringing)
Hello.
Hope I'm not disturbing you.
Just thought you might want to know.
I found J.T. Marley.
Took a while, but I did.
Where is he?
In the Obits.
He's dead.
When?
January, 1964.
Two months after Dallas.
Went down in a plane.
No survivors.
You're sure it's him.
Oh, it's him all right.
Got his bio and everything.
Too bad.
According to this, the man was a hero.
Sorry.
Oh, thanks, Morris.
What the hell is this?
So this is where he lives?
Rented room.
Unless he owns the hotel.
I've got a problem with people who live in rented rooms.
Oh, come on.
He's harmless.
Let's go home.
Hey!
Did you check me out? What?
Did you call Washington?
Well, yeah. Did they tell you
what I was doing here? Sure.
So do me a favor.
Don't get in my way.
Okay?
Yeah, sure.
So,
let's drive.
(thunder cracking)
♪ ♪
Come on, there's gotta be something here.
What am I doing?
Oh, what am I doing?
It can't be.
Snow's cat.
(meowing)
(thunder cracks)
ANNOUNCER (over radio): Good morning.
The time is now 6:30 in Chicago.
It's a chilly 24 degrees, and here's the news.
Security is tight as the city prepares (cat meowing)
for tomorrow's visit from President Tyson. (paper thuds against door)
(cat meowing)
You're on your own today, buddy.
Hey, Mike.
Mr. Hobson.
That about it?
Yeah.
Oh, $50.
How come?
What'd you do, rob a bank?
Oh, I'm sorry.
Tell you what, next time rob one for me.
Yeah.
Mike... Yeah?
You, uh...
under these headlines,
find anything strange in them?
Strange? How?
I don't know.
They got, uh, marks on them.
They're kind of... Which bank?
ANNOUNCER (over radio): White House officials
announced that when the president visits downtown...
It's you again.
Like the moth to the flame.
Which bank did you rob?
Oh, all of them.
So, where are you going, Hobson?
None of your business.
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.
You seem to be in a hurry.
Beat it.
I would if I could.
What the hell is it you want with me?
Oh, what do I want?
Well, maybe I want the answer to a few questions.
Like, uh, what are you gonna do today, huh?
You're not going to work. You haven't got a job.
I know that. Congratulations.
So maybe you've got something else in mind?
Something you heard.
In your head, huh?
What does it sound like, this, uh, voice
that you talk to?
Or is it a vision, huh?
Gary, do this; Gary, do that.
Must be kind of a drag, huh?
Do you see a shrink about this?
Or do you try to keep it down inside?
Huh? Yeah. That's it, isn't it?
It's like a, a genie trying to break out, huh?
It's crazy, isn't it?
You know what I'm talking about, don't you?
It's crazy!
Huh?
And you can't stop it, can you?
Yep.
It's the cat all right.
Kind of blurry,
but there it is. Morris,
is there any way you can blow that picture up?
Well, I could, but...
with the grain,
it'd most likely turn out the same.
What are you looking for anyway?
Or do I want to know?
(phone rings) Probably not.
I figured.
So what now?
MORRIS: Hello. Now, I go home.
Oh, great, I got those...
You don't mean that, do you?
Gary, you just found a clue.
So there's a cat in the picture.
What am I supposed to do?
So that means he was there the moment it happened.
I mean, he must have tried to stop it, just as you would,
but he couldn't.
The question is: Why?
Look, if the guy wanted help, he should have asked for it.
He did. He's asking you.
Gary, there's something else in that picture.
You just have to find it.
Maybe there I can help.
(bell over door rings)
Crumb...
Well, there goes my digestion.
You eat that for breakfast?
It's better than doughnuts.
What do you want?
Well, I thought maybe we should make peace.
Got off on the wrong foot.
And the fact is we could help each other out, huh?
Yeah? How's that?
Well, I've got my job. You've got yours.
We're both under a lot of pressure.
Hell, we've both got families to support, right?
Ah, well, uh...
So, I was thinking like, uh,
well, the letter bomb,
do you have any leads on that?
No, not a trace.
And don't start with this Hobson stuff again.
Oh, no, no.
I'm probably too hard on that guy, huh?
You're damn right you are. Well, you know him.
I don't.
But you can't blame me for asking questions.
You have to admit he's strange.
(chuckling): Yeah, well.
Like all that money he carries around.
What money?
All that cash.
I mean, he hasn't got a job.
Who's paying him, huh?
How much money?
Well, look,
it's not like you have to have a search warrant
or anything.
Like I said, it's...
it's just strange, huh?
Mmm.
Not bad.
Yeah.
I think I'll order one.
No, no. Be my guest.
Oh, thanks.
Oh, the Warren Commission's report.
That picture's famous.
It should be in here.
So?
Well, hold your horses.
My eyes ain't good as they were.
Ah, here it is.
It's the same picture.
Yeah.
But this time, they've got names.
GARY: Names?
There's the cat standing next to...
let me see.
Anderson, Spivak and... great.
MARISSA: What is it?
J.T. Marley.
It's a dead end.
Well, who says? J.T. Marley's dead.
That's a dead end.
Unless, of course, he's not.
Huh? He faked his death.
He's still out there, alive and well.
Haven't you heard?
How do you know that?
Your friend Snow told me.
Now, get out of my stacks.
Hey, Hawks, hang on.
I'll be back in a second. Hawks!
Listen, Hawks, all I need to know... Forget about it.
I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay?
You're wasting my time, not to mention my staff's.
And what about Snow?
Snow was a lunatic.
The guy drove me batty, him and his crackpot theory.
What theory?
Oh, come on, it's Kennedy.
Everyone has a theory--
CIA, bandits, outlaws,
pink elephants, but Snow's...
that was a doozy.
So he told you have about it?
I was just a cub, okay?
I was trying to be polite.
But, my God, renegade agents?
Falsified death certificates?
Oswald was just a dupe?
Come on, that's crazy.
And what about Marley?
They found his bones scattered
all over a mountain top in central Peru.
So were his teeth,
which they identified one by one.
I checked it all out.
It's a waste of time.
I almost got fired.
And what about the cat?
Cat?
The cat in the picture.
What cat? Snow's cat.
Give me that.
You found this here? It's property of this paper.
And here it stays.
The only reason I don't throw you out
is 'cause you saved my life.
Which I thank you for. Now get out.
Listen, Hawks...
No. You listen to me.
Cats don't kill presidents. Got it?
Now go.
I got work to do.
Come back any time.
Conspiracy theories.
This stuff'll be the death of me yet.
(meowing)
(latch clicks)
(meowing)
♪ ♪
(indistinct chatter)
DETECTIVE: What do you want to do about Dobbs?
I need a warrant.
Warrant?
For what?
Hobson.
I need to make a search.
(meows)
(keys jingling)
Yeah, I'm hungry, too.
MAN (on TV): The White House announced today
that after the president's arrival in Chicago,
he will speak to labor leaders all over the country.
Governor Fallon has called the visit a proud day
for a proud city...
CHUCK: Look, don't take it so hard, all right?
So you made a fool of yourself. What else is new?
MAN (on TV): This is Chicago's news.
I would have liked to have seen his face
when you told him about that cat.
(laughs): Did he really threaten to throw you out?
You're getting a real kick out of this, aren't you?
Thanks, Sam. Thanks, buddy.
I got it. So you came up with a goose egg, all right.
Maybe there was nothing to it in the first place.
I mean, cripes,
the thing is practically ancient history by now anyway.
I don't have any cash. Huh?
WOMAN (on TV): As a result, electricity has been interrupted...
Oh.
Here.
(sighs)
I don't have any, either.
What? I don't have any money.
What about the money from the track?
The money from... the money from the track.
No. The money from the track's not for something like this.
That's for living expenses.
Wrong. Money from the track was a windfall.
You said yourself you didn't need all that.
Come on, let's live a little.
All right. I'll go.
No, no, no, no. I'll go.
You sit down.
Relax. Take a load off.
Where is it?
WOMAN (on TV): A six-alarm warehouse fire
is raging out of control...
It's in the desk on the right-hand side.
All right. You wet your whistle.
Watch some TV.
All right?
Look, I'll be back in two minutes.
(loud crowd chatter)
(pool balls clacking)
WOMAN (on TV): Most of the facility had been closed...
In other news, local police aided by Secret Service
are busy setting up blockades in the Loop
for what's sure to be thousands of Chicagoans
waiting to greet the president and his motorcade.
The White House today announced more details
about the president's visit to Chicago tomorrow.
Air Force One will arrive at O'Hare International Airport
some time just after noon
where dignitaries will be on hand
to greet the first couple.
Airport officials don't expect
the visit will disrupt commercial traffic,
but they are suggesting
that passengers be aware of potential delays.
The motorcade route will take the president,
as well as the governor, into town along Wacker Drive
where lunch crowds are expected to turn out.
The president's car will then travel down Michigan Avenue
and arrive at the hotel at exactly 2:00.
(gunshots)
WALTER CRONKITE (on TV): President Kennedy died at 1:00 p.m.
Central Standard Time,
2:00 o'clock Eastern
Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago.
Under the direction of government policy,
although Federal Reserve analysts
have already stated their reluctance
to upset the status quo.
There's another headline.
No.
(cat mewing)
All right.
Come on, get away.
(sighs)
I love you.
What the...?
"Presidential route?"
(loud banging on door)
Gare?
MAN: Police!
We got a search warrant. Open up!
Come on, open up!
Move! Move! Freeze!
Wait, wait. Hold it right there.
Clear!
Against the wall! Come on!
Turn around. Pull over. Spread 'em.
MAN: Detective Crumb, over here.
Better come see what we got.
CHUCK: What? What'd I do?
Hmm.
What the hell.
(loud, overlapping chatter, jazz playing, pool balls clack)
(cash register bell dings)
WOMAN: Ethan, don't leave yet!
Thanks a lot.
Gary? Gary?
Come on. Well, what's wrong?
Come on. Wait. Where you taking me?
What's happening, Gary?
Where we going?
Gary, tell me what's going on.
What is it, Gary? (car tires squeaking)
What is it?
(car engine revving)
Oh, my God, Gary.
(engine racing)
Gary, you're shaking.
What's wrong? What's happening?
Marissa, President Tyson's gonna be shot. What?!
Listen, the headlines, the marks in the paper--
it's been trying to tell me.
Oh, my God, we've got to get help.
No. We can't do that. Of course we can.
If there's a gunman out there... Marissa, it's me.
What are you talking about, it's you?
Listen, tomorrow at 2:00, the paper says I'm gonna try
and shoot the President of the United States.
That doesn't make sense.
It's not right.
Maybe someone's trying to set you up.
Dobbs.
No, it's not Dobbs.
How do you know it's not Dobbs?
Because I'm gonna kill Dobbs, too.
Well, what are you gonna do?
(panting)
I don't know.
You're gonna need help.
(loud breathing)
Crumb.
Crumb!
(sirens blaring)
(tires squealing)
You want a press release on this?
Not a peep.
(garbled radio transmission)
Get him out of here!
Why?
I didn't even do anything.
(sirens blaring)
GARY: Hey, Crumb!
(voice in slow motion): Gary, run!
(in slow motion): Grab that guy!
Go!
(gun chamber cocking)
No!
(garbled radio transmission)
He may lead us to Marley.
Who?
Come on, let's go.
(garbled radio transmission)
(panting)
(whispers) Hawks.
...underway tonight for the president's arrival
tomorrow morning to speak to the nation's governors...
I need to talk to Hawks. Where is he?
In his office.
...busy setting up blockades in the Loop...
But I-I wouldn't disturb him.
He's been in there all night long.
...waiting to greet the president and his motorcade.
If you're going to be downtown tomorrow, be advised...
Hey, Hawks!
Hawks, open up. It's Hobson.
I'm sorry to barge in like this.
♪ Babe ♪
Look, something's happened.
I don't have anyone to turn to. I'm in trouble.
Hawks?
♪ I got you, babe... ♪ Hawks...
(shallow breathing)
(knocking at door)
Did you want me to help you with the...?
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God!
No. No. Stop! No.
(sirens blaring)
♪ ♪
(train cars rumbling and chugging)
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