his blasphemies.
Here is the instrument of cleansing,
my brethren.
And nothing quite cleanses like fire.
I was lucky today.
Believe me, I was lucky.
He tried a gambit...
and it almost worked.
But it ended up a stalemate...
with the Family down three pawns.
What do you think his next move will be?
End games are always
full of surprises, aren't they?
My move.
Discovered check.
How does that grab you, Caesar?
Your move, Imperator.
Excuse me.
Did you move?
Balls.
You used to be a nice guy once,
you know that?
And Speedy Bob Neville,
his great legs churning...
goes flashing across the finish line...
with a 3-minute-and-50-second mile.
Go ahead. I wanna see
some son of a bitch beat that.
This is recording 6306,
Rimini Boulevard, Sector 2.
Last five blocks have been clear...
except for some signs
they've been foraging for food...
in a small grocery store...
at 5500 block.
You'd think the prices
would keep them in the supermarkets.
You gotta hand it to them.
They sure cover their tracks.
Two years.
If I could just find the nest,
find out where they hole up.
Matthias!
All right, where's Matthias?
Come on. Where's Matthias?
Where's the hive?
Journal recording 958. August 5, 1977.
I found another one,
one of Matthias' group, dead of plague.
The sweep continues.
Not my color.
Wait! Come back!
I want to talk to you!
Is this how it starts?
A trip to the laughing academy?
No, you silly bastard.
It starts with you
asking yourself idiot questions.
Right.
Okay.
Let's get cleaned up...
and find a drink before the bars close.
And, all brothers and sisters,
I ask you to look at him.
Does he have the marks?
Do you see them?
You see him, as we were
before the punishment...
before we gained grace.
You see lying there the last of scientists,
of bankers, of businessmen...
the users of the wheel.
Do we use the tools
of the wheel as he does?
- Is he of the Family?
- No.
Is he of the sacred society?
- Then what is he?
- Evil.
He is part of the dead.
He has no place here.
He has the stink of oil
and electrical circuitry about him.
He is obsolete.
You are discarded.
You are the refuse of the past.
You're full of crap.
How hard it is to admit the truth.
Take him to the little room
for the questioning.
Mr. Neville, now we can talk a little while.
It's been a long time since you've talked,
except to yourself.
Tell me something, would you?
Are you fellas
really with the Internal Revenue Service?
Your little jokes
are meaningless, Mr. Neville.
Or doctor, or colonel,
or whatever it was they called you.
- I'm a scientist. What the hell are you?
- Definition of a scientist:
A man who understood nothing,
until there was nothing left to understand.
So there is a little light
in the forest after all.
A guiding light, Mr. Neville.
Now to me has passed the responsibility...
for this last tiny remnant of mankind.
Then why don't you quit
these bloody games?
Throw away those Halloween costumes,
and get these people organized, damn it.
Or are you already too far gone?
- Along road of truth...
- For God's sake.
And we are very organized, Mr. Neville.
After last night, you should know that.
If you're organized,
why don't you try finding a cure?
There is none!
There was no cure, and there is no cure...
but the Family has found its way.
We can bear it.
The only burden left is you.
But you've been trying to kill me
for two years.
Last night you killed how many?
Three of us?
And today, we don't know yet.
You're the angel of death, Doctor, not us.
He has confessed all, brothers.
Murder, use of forbidden tools,
practice of prescribed rites.
He admits science, medicine, weapons,
machinery, electricity.
He has not shared the punishments.
He does not bear the marks.
Marks?
Show him, my children.
Show him the pretty marks.
These are the marks, Mr. Neville.
The punishment, which you
and those like you, brought upon us.
In the beginning we tried to