“Hugh, how about you get the lawn chairs out the back? There’s a cooler too with some pop.”
“Pop?” Hugh’s face stretched in disbelief. “At least one of us thought to bring Rosie along in her fine brown skirt.” With that, he produced the bagged bottle from the inside of his jacket.
Kara snatched it from his hand and slid the bottle out.
“Why am I not surprised?”
She held the bottle up for Wiley and Amber. Wild Irish Rose—the white label.
“Fuck. We’re all going to die.” Wiley opened his door and stepped out.
Kara and Amber piled out of the passenger side, with Kara quick to shut the door in Hugh’s face before passing his bottle to her cousin.
“I should have known better than to come spend a weekend up here.” Kara heaved a lawn chair over the side of the truck bed. “What else could possibly go wrong?”
“Worst case scenario?” Amber unscrewed the bottle cap and took a swig, her face twisting into wretched disgust. “You might actually end up liking him.”
“Aren’t there like mutant hillbillies running around these woods, raping city folk?”
“Yes, but they were all busy tonight, so you have to settle for Hugh.”
“I’ve got a vibrator with more charm.”
“What are you girls talking about?” Wiley asked as he unrolled a blanket in the truck bed.
“Celibacy.” Kara took the wine from Amber and sniffed it with a disappointed sigh.
She tilted the bottle up for a long pull. Hugh opened the other lawn chair with a sharp clack as the metal legs snapped into place. He stared at Kara with his wine and threw his hands up in the air.
“You know what, you guys can keep the booze. I got other party favors.” He took a plastic bag from his pocket and let it unroll to reveal the large marijuana buds inside. “Why hang out with bores when you can party with whores?”
With that, Hugh started skipping merrily across the theater grounds. He broke into a sprint towards the Dodge van and clamored up the ladder to join the women on the roof. No one could hear what he was saying, but a round of cheers when he held up the bag of weed let Wiley and the girls know he wouldn’t be back until intermission. If he came back at all.
Amber climbed into the bed of the truck where Wiley had laid blankets and stacked pillows against the cab. She sat down and crossed her arms across her chest.
“Your friend’s a real piece of shit.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” Wiley snuggled next to her and watched Kara lean on the tailgate. “Hey, why don’t you come up here with us? We got plenty of pillows and it’s probably more comfortable than the chairs.”
“I’m fine here. Thanks though.” Kara took a seat on the gate. “That’s really your best friend, huh? Options that slim up here?”
“He’s got his good qualities.” Wiley made popping sounds with his lips, the way he did when he was nervous. “None of them are coming to mind, though. He’s not always an asshole. His parents are k—”
“What’s that?” Amber pointed at the big screen.
Four floodlights washed the dingy, off-white panels in color. Blue, red, green, and yellow filled the view and then dialed out to circles. Each circle began to dance around the screen, their sizes growing and shrinking as they bounced around randomly and at ever greater speed.
The grand stage, shrouded in a midnight-blue skirt, became hazy with a low fog rising from its planks. The speakers crackled and squealed, shaking off dust.
“Hugh was right about one thing,” Kara said. “They sure take the theatrics seriously.”
The music from the van turned down to a whisper, and one of the girls slammed the driver side door before joining Hugh and her friends to see what was happening. Hugh looked back at Wiley, who just shrugged. People reached out of their cars and pulled the speakers closer, clipping them over their doors. A fanfare purred to life over the antique devices. The notes were strained with age, but soon replaced with a voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen, victims of all ages, please give your full attention to the main screen,” the voice said. It sounded suspiciously like the hunchback. “It’s time once again to welcome that dastardly daddy of derangement, that grandiose ghoul of the grandstand. Give a rousing round of applause to your projectionist, Majaris Dantor!”
The fog bank gathered from the edges, coming together, rising into a pillar. It swirled and twisted like a tornado, drawing in the lights, and then exploding outward. In the wake of the fog, a shadowy figure stood centerstage. Lights blazed to life and shined on him.
The brim of a top hat concealed his face and met with the high collar of his riding cape. Gray slacks extended beyond the hem and merged with a fine mist that still hung over the stage. He spread his arms like a cross, revealing the deep red, silk lining of his cape as it floated away from his broad shoulders. A trio of crimson poppies protruded from the dark pocket of his jacket. The double-breasted vest beneath was in the same vermillion as his cape’s interior. He raised his face slowly. A bright ivory smile stretched across his brown face and intersected two vertical scars that occupied the right hemisphere of his face.
“Welcome to the Deadlight Drive-in!”
His voice boomed from somewhere. From everywhere. The speaker boxes were eerily quiet, however. Instead the projectionist’s voice came from the forest, from the shadows. His accent was European, not the usual kind though. He wasn’t British or French or even German. It was something harsher, colder, and more exotic.
Despite that, Majaris spoke English like a native and in a tone that made Amber and Wiley squirm nervously against one another. His voice sounded like fire. Fierce. Passionate. Primordial. He sauntered across the stage and the fog seemed to slither along with him, coiling around his legs like serpents. Kara slid from the tailgate and drifted towards the stage as he spoke.
“Every year we are granted this wondrous opportunity to share with you fortunate souls the joys of fine cinema. This occasion comes for just three nights.” He held up as many fingers theatrically. “This year we have brought out the very best. Opening with the Howard Hawks’ classic, The Thing from Another World. Just last night, we terrified the crowds with Homicidal, from the one and only William Castle. Tonight, shall be no different as we celebrate this final night of the Haustblót.”
“What is that, Wiley?” Amber whispered.
Wiley just shook his head slowly, unsure what to think. The theatrics of the projectionist were amazing, but something about them seemed wrong. Underneath his skin he felt unease turn to dread and rush through his arteries.
Majaris paced the stage, dragging out the suspense. He snapped his fingers flamboyantly, and the projector came to life. It flickered over him and he swept his hands over the crowd.
“Join me as we honor two of the greatest film legends that have ever lived. The incomparable Peter Cushing, together again with the unflappable Christopher Lee. Ladies. Gentlemen. It’s a lovely night… for terror.”
He disappeared.
His personal fogbank swirled in his stead. Majaris Dantor had simply vanished before their very eyes. The stage lighting died and left the screen lit only by the flickering projector. Flocks of night birds exploded into the air as the Projectionist spoke once again.
“All aboard…
A train whistle echoed out of the speakers.
“…the Horror Express.”
Part Two
The screen froze on Inspector Mirov’s dastardly face. The cigarette burn in the corner held its place and then, abruptly as the film’s many murders, the screen went perfectly blank. Amber pressed closer to Wiley, burying herself under his arm, and shivering.
“Geez babe, it’s not even that scary,” Wiley told her as he picked up his soda can. “In fact, it’s kind of cheesy.”
“Yeah,” Kara mumbled. She stood and stretched arching her back as she yawned.
Wiley rose to his feet and helped Amber up. “Let’s go find the porta potties before the ne
xt reel starts. The walk will do you some good.”
“Where’s Hugh?” Kara asked. “I didn’t even see that van leave.”
“Me either.” Wiley looked around at the other cars. “I must have been more into the movie than I thought. Maybe they went to get stoned or something.”
“Why bother leaving? Not like the cops could find this place. No one even knows where we are,” Amber reminded him.
“You know,” Kara scrunched her face, “it’s kind of sinister when you say it like that.”
“Yeah, it really is.” Amber took Wiley’s can from him and slugged down the lukewarm Doctor Shasta. “This place is really giving me the heebie jeebies.”
“You sound like my grandmother. Stop being silly, it’s supposed to be a little creepy.” Wiley hopped down from the truck bed and took Amber by the waist, lowering her down beside him. “I’m sure Hugh and those chicks just ran off to smoke a bowl or play spin the bottle. Hell, maybe they decided to go to a party. Who knows with Hugh.”
“I guess that’s true. He is kind of a loser.”
“I just meant he’s not that reliable, but yeah.” He laced his fingers with hers and tugged lightly. “Come on. I need to pee and you need to see that this place is just a typical movie theater.”
The field lit up with flash of lightning. More of it crackled through the low clouds like luminescent spiderwebs. Thunder rolled low and ominous, like the warning of an unseen beast. The other movie goers filed from their vehicles to watch the light show. Some oohed and aahed at the display, others slinked back into safety. A fiery bolt blazed downward, striking the stage before the grand screen. Sparks flew into the air igniting small patches of dried leaves and grass at the base of the structure.
Majaris Dantor stepped, wraithlike, through the smoke. He swung his top hat from his head as he took a bow. Someone whooped and applauded from the hood of a Trans Am.
“Fuckin’ A, you’re killin’ it,” the man shouted. “Greatest show on earth!”
“Thank you, my mulleted friend.” Majaris laughed heartily. “Thank you all for your attention and for the love and appreciation you’ve shown this theater.”
A few more hands clapped in the audience this time—slow, nervous applause made braver by the intrepid cheerleading of Trans Am Man. Wiley raised his hands and moved them to join in, but the moment passed, and he jammed them in his pockets before anyone could notice.
“You’re all much too gracious.” Majaris bowed again. “We have taken great measures to ensure the secrecy of this location for many, many years. In fact, the Deadlight was the first drive-in theater in the Ozarks if you can believe that. That’s right, even older than the one down in Marshall by a full two weeks.”
More applause. Wiley got in on it this time.
“You all worked very hard to be here tonight. You used every resource to find your way to this once in a lifetime event.”
“I thought they came every year?” Kara whispered.
Wiley shrugged. “It’s just part of the show.”
“Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed, my friends.” Majaris raised his hands slowly, and the stray fires before him flared with intensity. The audience ate it up, whooping like they were at a homecoming game. “Yes. We have noticed, and we love you all! Please, enjoy the lovely night laid out before you while I prepare the next reel. Don’t take too long, you’ll not want to miss a single second as the Horror Express picks up speed and careens wildly to its harrowing finale!”
Everyone clapped, even Kara and Amber. Another lightning bolt came crashing down, tearing across the stage like a frenetic dancer. The flash was blinding, leaving everyone blinking the spots away. By the time anyone thought to look up, only a few wisps of smoke still hung over the stage. The hunchback and his hooded servants were pouring bags of sand at the bases of the fires.
“See?” Wiley pointed. “It’s all theatrics, that’s why they were ready to put out the fires.”
“Yeah.” Amber nodded, each bob of her head getting a little more animated. “Yeah, okay. That makes a lot of sense.” She smiled at him and pulled his arm. “I was being silly, I guess.”
“It’s fine, babe. Let’s go hit the head though before the movie starts. Showmanship or not, the Projectionist is right about this being a rare opportunity. I don’t want to miss it.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, I could use a break too.” Kara looked at the row of faded, still-kind-of-blue, porta potties. “Eww, those things are so gross.”
“Probably not much worse than the ones in a regular movie theater,” Wiley said.
“I’m sorry, Wiley. You might be used to outhouses up here in the sticks, but where I’m from we keep toilets indoors.”
“It has doors.”
“Can’t be that bad.” Amber shrugged. “Just hover.”
Amber and Wiley walked off to the toilets with Kara scuffing her feet behind them. Wiley tried a handle, found it locked and moved to the next one. He went in without any hesitation. Kara opened the door to hers and shut it again.
“I swear, if this is gross, I’m never forgiving you, Amber.”
“It won’t be that bad, I’m sure.” She gestured for Kara to open the door again and peeked inside. “Oh my god, is that Fabuloso? I love that smell.”
“Seriously?” Kara leaned in. “Damn. That does smell like Fabuloso. I didn’t think they’d actually clean these things.”
“Why, of course we do,” the hunchback said.
Both girls screamed.
“So sorry, my lovelies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His eyes fought to straighten out and focus on one of them at a time. “I was actually coming to inspect the facilities and make sure they were up to our standards and exceeding your own.”
“Well, thank you very much.” Kara nodded and pointed at the toilet. “I’m going to try them out now. So, you can go inspect elsewhere.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be moving along. Please enjoy the rest of the film.”
The hunchback ambled away, waving at the other guests. His two towering helpers moved between the cars, heads turned down and steam rising from their hoods with every breath. Amber shuddered.
“I really don’t like those guys,” she said.
“Holy shit, they even put those little touch lights from the infomercials in there, so you can see. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.” Kara held the door open. “You know what they called these back in Saxton and Wells’ day right?”
“No. What?”
“Thunder boxes.”
Amber snickered.
“Truth. I saw it on the History Channel.” She gestured for Amber to enter. “Enjoy. I’ll stand guard from those creeps in the robes.”
“Thanks.” Amber slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind her. The lock clanked into place and the green “vacant” tab rotated to a red “occupied” one.
Kara leaned on the door whistling the tune she’d heard in the movie and took in the scene around her.
“You know that whistling isn’t very relaxing,” Amber called out from inside the porta potty.
Kara smiled and started to say something, but when she something caught her eye. She looked back at the cars once more, counting them this time. There were only eight left, including Wiley’s truck. The movie was good, but not good enough that she should have missed that many vehicles leaving. She turned her attention back to the screen.
Or rather behind it.
She took a few steps away from the toilets and squinted in the darkness. Something silver glinted just behind the stage. She jumped as Wiley grabbed her shoulder. She spun and smacked his chest with an open palm.
“If people don’t stop sneaking up on me!”
“Sorry.” Wiley held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The lock snapped back and the door pushed open gently as Amber stepped out. “You need to go, cuz?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, looked back at the screen, then back to them. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, go. Hurry up and we’ll meet you back at the truck.”
Kara stepped into the plastic outhouse as her cousin and Wiley abandoned her to the rusted passion pit that was his truck bed. She wiggled her skirt up and inched her panties down, hovering over the contoured seat, then realized Amber’s ass would have absorbed any horrible bacteria already. She eased herself down. Between the movie and the theater staff, her bladder was stressed to its upper limits and she let it go with an enthusiastic sigh.
“Take the blessings you get,” she told herself.
She found herself whistling the killer’s theme song again. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed way too jovial for a murderous parasite from another world. Someone bumped against the door.
“Occupied.”
Bump.
“And I’m still in here.”
Bump. Bang.
“Read the red sign. Ocupado, fucktard-o. Jesus.”
The next bump shook the entire porta potty. More frantic blows landed against the back of the plastic shell. Kara screamed. Then she heard another sound over the battering at the door. Some jackass turned his music up to eleven. She screamed louder but knew Kid Rock was drowning her out. It had to be Trans Am Man.
She fixed her clothes as another series of hammerlike blows struck the door. Each one hit hard enough to flex the frame and let a bit of light shine through. The plastic lights fell from their double-sided tape and struck the floor in staccato cracks that left Kara shrieking in the dark. She heard the batteries rolling across the black floor, knocking against the collection tank and walls. Kara kicked the door and shouted at whoever was outside to leave her alone.
And it worked.
The assault stopped as quickly as it began. She shakily reached for the lock. Lightning surged overhead, letting a bit of its illumination in through the foggy, distorted plastic skylight. It glimmered on the metal hasp, just like the glimmer she’d seen behind the screen. It didn’t register at the moment, but she understood. She saw the outline in the lightning, that’s what got her attention, and then she saw the shimmer of the chrome—the highly polished bumper of the Dodge conversion van, tucked away where no one could see it.
Horror Express Page 21