Midnight Movie
Page 9
After about an hour at the mall, Invisible Erick took off and glided along for another forty-five minutes. He ended up at a movie theater—no surprise there; Erick’s a film nerd, and that’s the way he rolls … even when he’s invisible, I guess—and then he went shooting that weird red shit at the loners again. That was when things got weird. Or weirder.
ERICK LAUGHLIN:
I didn’t know where the hell I was, so I didn’t know what the hell the local time was. It could’ve been ten, it could’ve been midnight, it could’ve been four A.M. No way to tell.
So I’m walking up and down the aisle of the movie theater, and that red stuff is still shooting out—still no idea where it was coming from—and unlike what was going on in the mall, the people who are getting shot have these brief seizures, then fall asleep. I don’t know when they woke up, because I went from theater to theater without hanging out for the aftermath.
And then the battery died.
And then, nothing.
SANTA FE REPORTER
EARTHQUAKE BY MOVIE THEATER INJURES 300-PLUS
FIRST EARTHQUAKE IN SANTA FE IN OVER A CENTURY
BY MAUREEN FRANZEN
MAY 5, 2009
An earthquake measuring 6.1 on the Richter scale shook the Miller Keresotes Fifteenplex at 152 Cerritos Road. No casualties were reported, but officials estimate that over 300 were injured.
The earthquake, which is the most serious such incident reported in Santa Fe since 1918, appears to have been extremely centralized.
Dr. Roman Zetterberg of the United States Geological Survey said, “The quake did zero property damage to the general vicinity. Even the restaurants adjacent to the building seemed unaffected. This is odd behavior for an event such as this, but far from unprecedented.”
No aftershocks have been reported, but Zetterberg will not rule them out. “If there are aftershocks, the chances of them being as centralized are minimal.”
Police are asking local residents to take precautions. For more information on how to prepare for an earthquake, please visit http://www.sfreporter.com/QuakePrep.
FROM: DianeDee123@yahoo.com
TO: HottieMcHottie1993@gmail.com
SUBJECT: the quake
DATE: May 5, 2009
Hey, Gwennie—
You were at the theater last night, weren’t you? You okay?
xox,
Dee
FROM: HottieMcHottie1993@gmail.com
TO: DianeDee123@yahoo.com
SUBJECT: re: the quake
DATE: May 5, 2009
Hey, Dee—
You won’t believe what happened.
So me and Kerrie and Melissa go to see STAR TREK. Why would I want to see STAR TREK? Well, I didn’t. Kerrie only wanted to go because she thought Neal was going to be there, and Melissa wanted to go because if Neal was there, then Steven would be there, and I only wanted to go because I had nothing better to do.
So we get into the theater, and a half hour in, I knew I was right that it SUCKED. So we were bored, and we started looking around, and Melissa saw Steven and Neal, so we tiptoed over. On the way down the aisle, I tripped and fell on my face, and I think I knocked myself out for a second, but Kerrie and Melissa didn’t even notice, because they were totally running to get to the guys.
So I catch up to them, and they’re already sitting next to the guys, and there weren’t any seats by them, so I took a seat on the end next to this supercute guy who was with his supercute friends. He and his friends looked OLD, like they were thiry or something.
I was wearing a short skirt, and I could have sworn I saw him checking out my legs, so just for the fun of it, I kind of touched my THIGH against his. I’m such a dork sometimes. But I guess I was wrong about him looking at me, because when my leg touched his, he didn’t even flinch. I don’t think he noticed.
That’s when the earthquake started. At first I thought it was an explosion, because the ground didn’t start shaking right away. It was just a loud BOOM, and then the movie stopped, and then everybody started screaming (I screamed too), and THEN the ground started shaking. I went to meet the girls, but it turned out that the old guy next to me had accidentally sat on my skirt, so I couldn’t stand up. I yelled at him, I’M STUCK, and he said he was sorry, and he stood up, and sort of handed me my skirt back, and his fingers touched my leg, and all of a sudden, the world disappeared, and it was just the two of us. I know you think that sounds weird, but it’s TRUE.
We kissed, and it was CRAZY! I don’t know how long it went on for, but it seemed like forever. My legs started trembling, and I fell down on the floor, and the old guy fell right on top of me, and then he rolled off of me, and we were on our sides, face-to-face. And then I touched him DOWN THERE through his pants. I couldn’t help it. And the second I touched him, he came, and there was so much stuff that it leaked through his pants. It got on my hands, and it was gross and sticky. I had a paper cut on my index finger, and that stung BAD.
Suddenly, everybody’s running around and screaming their heads off, but I look behind me, and there’s another girl with another guy and they’re in the exact same position as I’m in, and the girl’s wiping her hand on the floor like she’d gotten something nasty on it. I was just about to say something to her when this guy who was running down the aisle tripped over me. He said he was sorry, then he stood up and offered his hand. Without even thinking, I gave him the hand that had the old guy’s stuff all over it, but I don’t think he noticed, because that’s when the walls started falling apart.
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I think I went into shock or something. I kind of remember dragging Kerrie and Melissa out of the theater, but that may have been my imagination.
Mom’s taking me to the doctor today to make sure I’m okay. I told her I’m fine (WHICH I AM), but you know my mom. Over-protective. I’ll tell you how it goes.
xox,
Gwennie
FROM: DianeDee123@yahoo.com
TO: HottieMcHottie1993@gmail.com
SUBJECT: re: re: the quake
DATE: May 5, 2009
What is your problem? You gave an old guy a hand job during an earthquake, and you think you’re okay? YOU ARE NOT OKAY! We need to talk about this. Call me when you can. If you need me, I’m here for you. I’m ALWAYS here for you.
xox,
Dee
FROM: HottieMcHottie1993@gmail.com
TO: DianeDee123@yahoo.com
SUBJECT: re: re: re: the quake
DATE: May 5, 2009
Dee—
I need you. Do you think your mom would let you sleep over tonight? I’m scared.
So we go to the doctor, and she gives me the once-over, and says that I was probably right, and that I went into a little bit of shock. Then she took some blood tests and she made me give her a urine sample. So I went to the bathroom, but I didn’t really have to pee, so I sat there and started thinking about last night, and what it was like kissing the old guy, and I started getting excited down there, which wasn’t helping with the peeing. So I wiped myself off, because I didn’t want that stuff mixing with my pee, and here’s the scary part.
The toilet paper came away red and blue.
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. One of the nurses banged on the door and asked if I was okay. Part of me wanted to tell her that there was some blue stuff coming out of my hoo-hah, but the other part of me wanted to keep it quiet, because after all that stuff that happened with Willy last year, I HATE hospitals. But I looked at the toilet paper again and decided that since I was already there, I’d better say something.
The doctor made me go right to my gynecologist, and I’ll spare you the details, because she ran about a MILLION tests, and they all hurt SO badly, and I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want to stay here in bed, and I want you to come and keep me company, because I hurt, and I’m scared, and I can’t stop thinking about the old guy no matter how hard I try, and my sheets are getting stained blue. Come over ASA
P.
xox,
Gwennie
EXCERPTED FROM THE PAPERS OF DR. AARON GILLESPIE,
RISK MANAGEMENT ANALYST FOR THE DEPARTMENT
OF HOMELAND SECURITY
May 7, 2009—I am in, and it could not have been simpler. It is an offshoot of an offshoot of an offshoot. In typical fashion, they do not even know what group they are splintered from, and, also in typical fashion, they do not care. Their only concern is the cause.
They knew who I was, but that was not a surprise. Most of these field generals take themselves and their work quite seriously, and they do their research. The leader, who goes by the name Brian, told me that I was far from the first Homeland Security agent to “turn.” Upper management keeps us all isolated from one another, so it was little surprise that I was not aware of that.
Brian has refused to give me specifics about the mission, which I believe is because he does not have all the specifics himself. So all we have done is train and procure. It appears that is how it will be for the foreseeable future.
We train right by Lake Michigan in Evanston, a suburb just north of Chicago, right out in plain sight. But we have nothing to hide. We are simply exercising: yoga, running, tai chi. We must remain in tip-top shape. We do not know why. That is simply the fact.
They would prefer that I live with them in their compound, which is actually a modest house on a quiet side street in an affluent neighborhood, but I prefer to sleep in my own bed. They realize that I bring a wealth of knowledge to the table, so they have compromised: sixteen hours with them, eight hours away.
They are quite paranoid. I have told them time and again that, due to our edict of plausible deniability, nobody at the department knows of their existence, other than me. They do not believe me, which is understandable, but they will come to. Numerous times, I have demonstrated that I know more about their world than they do. They are impressed. They like having me around.
They are also taken with my ability to build weaponry. I brought along a pipe bomb recipe that Brian called the finest he had ever seen. My concoction for a fertilizer bomb is far less expensive than theirs, and I am confident that it will be equally powerful, if not more so. Much to my surprise, they did not know what a barometric bomb is. I doubt we will ever use one, but it is good to have them available.
One thing that was quite disappointing to me was their lack of respect for their firearms. They have a Stinger FIM-92A missile in the basement that has never been fired, but they do not realize they must keep it clean whether or not it has been used. I spent almost an entire day wiping off the layer of dust that had covered the weapon, both inside and out.
Two days after they let me into their inner circle, I took them to an underground shooting range on the South Side of Chicago that they did not know about. It is things like that that help me ingratiate myself. Sooner or later, they will trust me in full. I hope it is sooner.
I do not even have a clue what my mission is. All I know is that if I have anything to say about it, it will involve bloodshed, and pain, and destruction, and, if all goes well, a body count for the ages.
http://andidaltrey.blogspot.com
Andi-Licious
The Useless Musings of Sophomoric
Sophomore Andrea Daltrey
MAY 11
MY WARDROBE
My clothes don’t work for me because they cover too much. Like if you can’t see my NIPPLES through my shirt, then that shirt has to go. If you can’t see the CRACK OF MY ASS peeking out of my pants, those pants have to go. If you can’t see my CLEAVAGE, that’s unacceptable, because if I walk down the street and a guy doesn’t stare at me then something’s wrong.
I want every guy to stare at me. I want every guy to want me, even though I don’t want every guy. But if I want a guy, he has to WANT me, and I don’t want to work at it like last night. I went to the Beauty Bar and wore a white baby-doll tee without a bra, so my nipples were all out there. I wore a short skirt without PANTIES, and while I was sitting at the bar, I spread my LEGS apart a couple of times just for fun. I don’t remember the name of the headlining band, but it was a good thing I wore what I did, because the second I saw the drummer, I wanted his cock in my MOUTH.
After they were done playing, I went backstage and grabbed him by the back of his neck and gave him one of those new KISSES that seem to put guys under my spell or something. After I pulled away, I stuck my hand down his pants and squeezed and he came immediately all over the place, and it was blue just like it always is. I LICKED my hand clean, then wiped the rest of it onto a guitar case, then I went home and rubbed myself until I feel asleep.
Good night sweet dreams dream of me getting you HARD AND SUCKING you dry and turning you blue.
a: The undersigned investigator was assigned to assist in the investigation of a missing person (Gary Samuel Church, sixty-four-year-old white male of Swall St. in Los Angeles, May 14, 2009).
b: The subject was reported missing by his brother, Warren Roderick Church of Seventh Ave. in Brooklyn, NY. Warren Church last had contact with the subject on April 23, 2009, via a text message. Warren Church says that Gary Church had been “acting weird” for several weeks before the disappearance. Warren Church says that the last individual to see Gary Church was Donna Nathan, a key grip on the film that Gary Church was shooting at the Twentieth Century Fox Studio (10201 Pico Blvd.) until his disappearance. The date was May 2, 2009. Warren Church claims that Donna Nathan has expressed her willingness to submit to an interview. On May 10, Warren Church examined Gary Church’s house for information and did not uncover anything “useful.” Between May 10 and 13, Warren Church approached several of Gary Church’s neighbors, who could offer no suggestions. Warren Church has also called numerous local hospitals, to no avail.
c: No definitive conclusion can be made at this time.
d: It is my recommendation that we do a second sweep of the local hospitals and interview as many individuals who worked with Gary Church on the Fox lot as possible. According to Warren Church, Gary Church had never displayed any suicidal tendencies, but considering that Warren Church emphasized that Gary Church had been “acting weird,” suicide is not being ruled out. As Gary Church is well-off, it is also recommended that we conduct an airline search, both local and domestic, to see if he simply left his home without telling anybody. A secondary search of the house is also essential.
e: —8″ × 10″ photo of Gary Church
—Keys to 1424 S. Swall
JANINE DALTREY:
I was laid up in the hospital for a month, and at first, my friends were wonderful. I had visitors coming in and out of my room, and everybody had a present for me: books, stuffed animals, pizza, DVDs, pretty much anything I wanted. My professors were also terrific. They all stopped by with lecture notes, and homework, and lots of bad jokes that made me laugh despite myself. Andi came by, all slutted up in her new sexy-time outfits. She was her usual self, just … sluttier. I tried to grill her about this new look and attitude of hers, but she’d always change the subject. Honestly, I was too tired to push it. I regret that to this day, and probably will for the rest of my life.
As the days progressed, the visits kind of dwindled. I guess I can understand. I had some decent friends in Austin, but they weren’t the kind of friends you’d keep in touch with after graduation. You’d become Facebook buddies and maybe get together when you were in the same town, maybe not, but we’re not talking lifelongers here. It was kind of like they did their duty, then they moved on.
Naturally, I watched a lot of TV—a lot of CNN, to be precise, because my hospital roommate would kick and scream if I even thought about putting on VH1 or something—and by the end of my stay at Chez Sickbed, the news was driving … me … fucking … crazy. Terrorists blowing up shit in Chicago; a mini-riot in Atlanta; earthquakes in San Diego, Baja, Tijuana, and New Mexico; and, of course, the rash of fires in Austin … I think there’d been almost three dozen at that point, and some of them were really bad, like fiv
e-alarm bad. The only good news was that the Dallas Stars might make the playoffs.
When they sprung me, Andi came to pick me up, and she was off in the ozone. I said to her, “You look tingly. Did you find a boy or something?”