Scream Test: An unforgettable and gripping psychological thriller

by Mark Gillespie

  “It’s true alright,” Ellie said.

  “But it makes me feel like I don’t have it so bad.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  Cassandra’s finger made a sweeping motion across the park. “Do you think she’s out there? I mean, do you really think that?”

  Ellie nodded. “What’s left of her. Bones. Ash. Dust.”

  “Why’d they bring them all the way out here?” Cassandra asked. “All the way from LA to this shithole. I mean, I’ve read the same forums as you and all, but what do you think?”

  “You know why they did it,” Ellie said. She’d spent so long studying the story that it was effortless for her to recall the details. “Tony Charpentier was a heavy hitter who did all the dirty jobs for the LA studios back in the fifties. He made threats, made people black and blue and yeah, he’d even kill them if the order came in. Nicole and her mom, knowing what they knew, were a major threat. Charpentier, that big fucking ape, was from Toronto and he had ties with the Montreal mafia that went back years and years. Before this was a national park it was just empty wilderness. A great place to make people disappear. Tony made a lot of Americans disappear in Canada, so they say. Nicole and her mom are out there somewhere, lying in unmarked graves. Or maybe he burned them through the night. Who knows? Somehow that big asshole got over the border with Nicole and her mom tied up in the back of a van.”

  Ellie stared at the distant wall of trees and beyond.

  “Nobody cares. No one ever took the rap for what happened even though we all knew who did it. And I’m not talking about Charpentier, I’m talking about the guy who’s really to blame.”

  Ellie glanced at her friend. “You gotta remember all this Cass. Group project. Next year. You and me, we’re talking about Nicole and her mom and we’re going to blow this story wide open. It’s long overdue. We’re going to give the best group project that school has ever seen in its lousy entire existence. And after blowing their minds with facts we’re going to put the West story back out into the world. Blogs, newspapers and eventually, TV. You wait and see. People will start talking about Nicole West again. Naming names. That’s why you need to know dates and facts, Cass. For the project. The project’s the beginning so you need to start working on it now because it has to be perfect. Better than that.”

  “Yeah I know,” Cassandra said, picking up a tiny stone and tossing it towards the water. “I’m just so tired after school and homework. We’ve still got a long time to go before the group project. Like a really long time.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Nope. The earlier you start researching, the better it’ll be.”

  Cassandra pointed to the trees across the river. “How will they ever find her? It’s so fucking big inside the park.”

  “They’ll find her,” Ellie said. “But first we have to make them believe us. Believe that she’s out there. Nobody ever believed the stories about the bodies being taken here back in the fifties. They think it’s gossip. Just trash on the dark Hollywood forums. People go missing all the time, they say. You’ve heard the stories, right? The excuses people make to brush off the disappearance of Nicole and her mom. They ran away to Alaska. They went back home to Ohio or fled to Russia after McCarthy’s witch-hunting buddies found out that her grandfather was from St. Petersburg. Bullshit. They were murdered.”

  “Sometimes,” Cassandra said, looking at Ellie with a wary expression, “you sound a lot older than thirteen.”

  “Sometimes I feel it.”

  “It’s exciting though,” Cassandra said, her eyes reflecting the evening sunlight. “Isn’t it? Feels like she’s alive in us. Like she wants us to be her voice.”

  “She does,” Ellie said. “My aunt’s a big believer in all that stuff. Ghosts, the afterlife and whatever. She’s been to more seances and Ouija board sessions than you can imagine.”

  “That your dad’s sister?”

  “Aunt Betty, yeah.”

  “That’s fucking creepy man. Ouija boards and all that dark shit – no thanks.”

  Ellie shrugged. “She took me aside once when Dad was out of the room. This was a few years ago before they stopped seeing one another. He hated that kind of thing – called it voodoo bullshit. Anyway, Aunt Betty told me once about ghosts and spirits and the other side. She told me stories about vengeful spirits.”

  “Vengeful what?”

  “Yeah,” Ellie said. “They’re super dangerous.”

  Cassandra’s face scrunched up and for a moment, she looked about twenty years older. “Jesus. What are they?”

  “It’s the spirit of someone who’s had something terrible done to them,” Ellie said, a tight-lipped smile spreading across her face. “Usually they’ve died a cruel, violent death and instead of crossing over, they come back and seek revenge. According to Aunt Betty, they’re mostly female.”

  “Shit,” Cassandra said, turning her gaze back to the water. “I hope Nicole comes back and kicks ass.”

  “She will,” Ellie said. “You bet your ass she will.”

  Cassandra sat forward, burying her head in her hands. She groaned so loudly that Ellie thought everyone back in the car park could hear her.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellie asked, looking at her friend. “Are you alright?”

  “Nope. Because we won’t be eighteen for another five years. That means five more years of living at home.”

  “It’s cool Cass,” Ellie said, patting her on the back. “We’re not waiting that long. We’re going when I turn sixteen which is only twenty-nine days after you do.”

  “It’s alright for you,” Cassandra said, pulling at a loose thread on the arm of her Taylor Swift shirt. “Look at you. You’re never going to be fat. How am I going to make it as an actor in LA unless I play the token fat chick in every movie? I don’t want people laughing at me like that. Anyway, I’m not funny. I’ve never been funny.”

  “They call me stick insect at school,” Ellie said, taking her hand off Cassandra’s back. “Praying mantis. How’s that any better?”

  “C’mon,” Cassandra said. “They’re just jealous and everyone knows it. You got that face and that blonde hair and those long legs that go on for miles. You might be skinny now but you’re going to blossom into something special in a few years, Ellie. All I gotta do is look at a bag of pretzels and I put on twenty pounds. I’m a fucking whale.”

  “That’s your dad talking.”

  Cassandra fell back into the seat and tilted her head towards the purple sky. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy. How are we ever going to afford to get out of here?”

  “We’ll have enough money between us,” Ellie said, giving her friend a playful tap on the arm. “It’ll be okay. Just you wait and see.”

  Cassandra’s smile was lukewarm. “What did we do to end up with the worst parents in Canada?”

  “We were born to assholes,” Ellie said, getting to her feet. She walked towards the edge of the river and soaked up the early evening ambience. “It’s our curse but at least we’ve got each other.”

  “Yeah,” Cassandra said. “There’s always that.”

  Ellie pointed at the trees across the river.

  “You know what Cass? If she is a vengeful spirit, I mean if she’s still alive in some way, then maybe she called us here to the river. Both of us. What if it’s fate that our shitty parents made us best friends? What if it’s fate that we come here all the time for a little peace and quiet? Maybe Nicole chose us. Maybe she’s looking for justice from beyond the grave. How about that? She chose us, you and me to do special work for her. She chose us.”

  3

  Ellie’s knuckles leaned against the door. There was a vintage brass number plate in front of her, a big ‘59’ stenciled black on gold.

  It wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. The biggest predator in the film industry was behind that door. And he was waiting for her.

  She closed her eyes.

  The carousel of images was vivid and frightening. Dark, moving pictures t
hat she’d seen before in dreams long before coming to LA. Today they were more visceral. A nightmare, more real than real. It was black and white – it was always black and white in the vision. The Shadow Man, leaning over her as she lay helpless on a hotel bed, unable to move a muscle as if struck by a bout of sleep paralysis. The Shadow Man came closer, this tall incubus-like figure with the devil’s gargled laugh, featureless features and giant hands like catcher’s mitts. He spat in her mouth, jerking off with one hand while the other squeezed down on her scratched neck like it was a sponge to be wrung dry. His strength was godlike. Bloodstains peppered the mattress and floor. Finally, Ellie was able to break and she struggled back to her feet, the room spinning around like a disco ball at a dizzying speed. She was crying, trying to block out the cruel laughter ringing in her ears. She gathered her torn clothes and fled into the hallway. That was spinning too. She fell twice. Got back up twice. Blood and semen ran down her legs and already, Ellie could feel the bruises forming on the inside and outside.

  She opened her eyes.

  You’ve waited so long for this, she told herself. The way you planned it is the way it’ll go. But you must go in there.

  Ellie pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Then she knocked twice on the door and Jesus, it was so loud. Her legs were shaking. Her heart thumping against her ribcage and on top of everything else, she was sweating after that damn ordeal of a walk up Lux Lane.

  The door swung open. Ellie’s posture stiffened and she stretched to her full height as a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, much shorter than Ellie, stood in the open doorway. The woman was smiling as if Ellie was her long-lost sister.

  “Ellie?”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman opened the door further, offering her hand.

  “Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’m Jami – Jami Maddox. We spoke on the phone earlier this morning.”

  “Good to meet you,” Ellie said, shaking the woman’s hand. Jami’s grip was a solid bone cruncher. Her Brooklyn accent was much stronger in person and Ellie appreciated how refreshingly un-Hollywood Klein’s PA was in her appearance. She wore a scruffy sweater and jeans combo that might have come from the floor of a thrift store. Dark shadows lingered under her eyes, giving the impression of someone who didn’t sleep much. Jami’s fingernails were cut short and painted black. The lipstick was black too.

  “Come in,” Jami said. “Grady’s in the bathroom right now but he’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ellie walked into the room, ignoring that last whisper of a protest in her head. The one telling her to run. The room was about a hundred square feet and the furniture old, midcentury and shabby. There were grime stains around the baseboards and a latent, musty smell coming off the carpet.

  A trickle of street noise drifted up to the fifth floor from Sunset Boulevard. It was soothing, at least from afar. There was a set of complimentary earplugs on the bedside cabinet. Most likely it wasn’t there for the traffic and instead, to block out the misbehavior of other guests.

  Ellie turned to face Jami who was standing at the door. She took in the rest of her surroundings too, noticing the countertop to her left with a coffee maker, coffee, tea bags, glass water bottles and a notepad and pen on it. A large MacBook Pro was plugged into the wall, switched on and with the lid up. On the screen, Ellie noticed a news article celebrating the one hundred and second birthday of legendary Hollywood actor and producer, Kane Dallas.

  Beside that, an iPhone fixed to a small tripod.

  “That’s for your screen test,” Jami said, noticing Ellie’s interest in the phone and tripod. “But don’t worry – it’s an informal test. Just like I said when we talked before. A few lines, a bit of back and forth to see how good a re-actor you are. That’s about it. Nothing too heavy.”

  “Oh yeah,” Ellie said, smiling nervously. “That’s fine.”

  “Grady will read with you. He’s alright – it’s just saying the lines as far as he’s concerned.”

  “Perfect.”

  So maybe it was a real acting test after all. Maybe Klein had no intention of going all rapist on Ellie and forcing himself upon her. She looked at the camera again and felt a strange excitement growing inside. Was this what it felt like to be a real actress? Screen tests in LA with the biggest producer in town. Not bad for a little stick insect from Toronto who’d dreamed of seeing her name up in lights. Holy shit, she was in Grady Klein’s hotel room. He had a camera set up and everything.

  Ellie felt drunk on the possibilities ahead of her.

  And yet something else nagged at the back of her mind. Ellie knew fine well what it was and she pushed it away before the thought could take form and ruin the moment.

  Go with it, she told herself. Forget everything and just go with it. Klein must have seen something special in her on the red carpet that night in Toronto. Why else would he have invited her for a screen test? And it was a screen test. The camera right there was proof of that.

  Jami was still standing in the doorway. “Thanks again for coming over at such short notice Ellie. Grady really appreciates it.”

  “No problem,” Ellie said, glancing at the bathroom door to her right. It was quiet in there. “Thanks to you guys for inviting me over. I wasn’t expecting to meet up with Grady so soon.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Jami said, scooping her purse up off the countertop. “Okay. Well, now that you’re here I guess I’ll leave you guys to it.”

  Ellie felt a sudden chill shoot through her veins.

  “You’re not staying?”

  “Nah,” Jami said, as if it was no big thing. “I’ve got so much to do today and I gotta get back out there and make some moves. But hey, where are my manners? I didn’t even offer you anything. Can I get you a coffee before I go?”

  A cawfee.

  “Umm, sure thanks.”

  “How do you take it?” Jami asked.

  “Black’s fine.”

  Jami nodded like that was the right answer. “A woman after my own heart.” She hung her purse off the chair by the strap, walked over to the coffee maker and placed a packet of coffee inside the basket before hooking it up to the machine. Filling the glass carafe with cold water, she smiled bashfully at Ellie.

  “Hotel coffee. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “It’s fine,” Ellie said, glancing at the bathroom door again. “The coffee in my hotel isn’t exactly gourmet.”

  “You close?”

  “Yeah, it’s just a motel off Sunset Boulevard. Nothing special.”

  “Well,” Jami said, switching the machine on, “that’s how a lot of people start off in this town. They show up with a suitcase and stay in the Fleabag Inn while they’re getting themselves fixed with something better. But if things work out Ellie, you won’t be there for long, I promise. Grady will make sure of that. He takes care of his people.”

  “Cool.”

  “Coffee will be ready in a minute.”

  Ellie nodded. She was doing everything she could to stop staring at the bathroom door. “So you’ve got a lot of work on?”

  “Oh yeah,” Jami said, watching the coffee brewing. “Story of my life sister. Admin mostly. A few errands. Keeps me busy, you know?”

  She pointed to the MacBook. The main picture showed the old birthday boy sitting in his wheelchair, surrounded by a massive entourage of family and friends holding a variety of brightly colored banners with ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANE’, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD’, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRAMPA’ and ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREAT-GRAMPA’, plastered over them in bold print.

  “Wanna know what I’m doing?”

  “Sure,” Ellie said.

  “Gotta organize a belated bouquet of flowers for the old man’s birthday,” Jami said. “Gonna get him some VIP Dodgers tickets too. Grady was in London and missed the big day last week and now he wants to make it up to Kane. They’re like best friends, you know? Jesus, look at the old fart. Looks like his face is made of plasticine.”


  “They’re friends?” Ellie said.

  “Oh yeah,” Jami said. “Bit of an odd couple I know and it’s not like they see one another that much, but they get on like a house on fire. I don’t get it. If I was the old man’s age, I think I’d rather be best friends with an oxygen mask. Anyway, I’d better be careful what I say.”

  Jami pointed a thumb towards the bathroom.

  “Grady adores those old school macho movie stars and Kane’s pretty much the last one standing. He’s made a cameo appearance in at least three of our movies. Have you seen Killer of Death?”

  Ellie nodded. “So you’re delivering presents?”

  Jami didn’t look too happy about it. She glanced at the bathroom door again, then lowered her voice.

  “Yeah. Gotta show up personally, smiling and making small talk like I got nothing better to do. But Grady wants the personal touch. It’s his way of apologizing for not being there at the old man’s party. I’m the apology.”

  Jami lifted the carafe out of the machine and poured the coffee into a cup. She slipped it across the counter towards Ellie. “Bottoms up.”

  “Thanks,” Ellie said. She took a sip. It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected.

  “So you can’t stick around? Bummer.”

  Jami picked up her bag again, a sad smile on her face.

  “Ellie, I wish I could. But I gotta go. I’d love to stick around and check out your screen test. I’m sure it’s going to be great. But I gotta get back to the office, run a few other errands before heading up to the old man’s house late this afternoon. Before he slips into unconsciousness. You know?”

  Ellie flinched at a sudden noise from the bathroom. Sounded like someone running the faucet, but it might as well have been Niagara Falls crashing through the roof of the hotel. Now she knew for sure that Grady Klein was in there. And in a matter of seconds, Ellie would be alone with him.

  “He’ll be out in a minute,” Jami said.

  Ellie watched as Klein’s PA gathered up her cellphone, a few sheets of paper and a set of car keys. The woman’s stubby fingers clawed at the items as if she couldn’t get out of Room 59 fast enough.