So this film, this film, oh, it’s the most perfect encapsulation of what he misses these days, it’s a parade of images he understands, throwing meaning at him. These kids are in a countryside he knows, of pylons and footpaths, and now they’re at the seaside, with so many smokers, and those penny falls machines, where coins endlessly fell over the edge and might drop slight value into your hands. The quality of light is what he remembers from back then, too. Had the summers literally been more golden? Have his eyes changed? Have everybody’s? Or have the summers since been spoiled?
Robert watches the plot of the film, slight so far, start to unfold, and knows these children and their lost accents, and finds himself lulled and gripped and yearning. Slowly it starts to get a little too much. But he’s not going to close his eyes. No way.
* * *
“It’s pretty good,” says Mikey, watching the movie from inside the projection booth. “It’s really pretty effing great. Makes a change.”
Andy is walking back and forth in the booth, his arms wrapped around himself as if it’s cold in here. Which it isn’t. They put the heat up for the oldsters, and the projector itself gives out warmth. He’d wanted to hear Mikey’s reaction to the movie, but for some reason he hasn’t wanted to join him at the window. “Good choice, then? Reasonable choice?”
“What? Yeah. Hugely. Callum. Phew. Weird.” Mikey isn’t even looking at him.
“It’s a bit all over the place from what I’ve seen. What’s it even about?”
“What isn’t it about? Decay. The end of the world. The night arriving and the day never coming back. Critics are only just starting to write about it. Kim Newman for The Guardian. There’s going to be a special edition Blu-ray. Hence the rerelease.”
“I don’t recognize the name of the director.”
“He only did Weyward House. Well, and one movie that wasn’t finished. The writer had worked on all sorts of things. Then he lost his children—a son and a daughter—within a year of each other, and he couldn’t keep working, but then he met the director, who’d just discovered…well, he had a year to live. He stretched it to nearly two, in the end. He made this and tried for something else, but…”
Andy turns away so Mikey can’t see the look on his face. “They made a horror movie about this stuff? About their lives?”
“They never said it was, but yeah.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It’s a pity people have only heard of this movie before now because of the urban legend.”
“What urban legend?”
“You see it on movie-buff Twitter. Someone did some sort of survey in the 1970s about major life events in cinemas in the US. You know, which films killed people, which films had women giving birth in the cinema. Small samples, obviously. Bloody statistics. And it was this one, by a long way.”
“What was?”
“The movie that most people died while watching. I suppose because for this movie it was about five people and for the rest of them it was one here and one there, something like that. Coincidence.”
“Was it?” Andy now has a thought in his head that has made his day slightly worse. “When the movie was rereleased, did you tell Callum all this?”
“Maybe. Yeah. I think I did.” Mikey’s face falls as he realizes. “Oh. Shit. Disappointing. I thought he was into it.”
“Yeah.” But still, what can Andy really accuse Callum of? Not trying to get their patrons killed, not really. The movie doesn’t carry any warning about flashing lights or anything else that causes seizures. This must be why Callum had been so weird this morning. Because they were in the middle of something he’d thought was going to be the raw material for a funny story he could tell about a joke he’d played on Andy, but it had turned out to be just something everyday that was happening to him. Can Andy even have a word with him about this? Maybe just let it play out?
Andy shakes his head, annoyed at his indecision, and heads back into the lobby.
* * *
He sees Callum watching him as he enters.
“This is weird,” says Chloe, smiling.
But is it him or is there something nervous about her expression, too? Why is he feeling like this?
“What?”
“None of them have come out to go to the toilet. Normally we get a lot of sales like that. They have a wee, then they want more sweets. Today: nothing at all.”
Andy’s about to say something noncommittal when the muted sound of the movie suddenly changes. They all react together, all of them attuned to the noise that is always part of their lives at work. That drone of speech, music, and sound effects, normally on the edge of audibility, has suddenly leapt up in volume. Only the voices still aren’t quite audible, the music is still muted, it’s all, somehow, impossibly, just…bigger. “What the hell?” says Andy. He runs into the back and bangs on the door of the projection booth. “Mikey, what’s going on?”
He hears a reply, a puzzled question. He uses his card to unlock the door and hauls it open. In the dark, his face illuminated by the controls, Mikey is staring at him. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”
“Stop pissing about. Did you turn the sound levels up?” Andy still doesn’t want to look out at the screen, for some reason. But he does. The movie still looks normal. But he can hear the same effect he did in the lobby, that the sound is as muted as one would expect, but that it’s also somehow more intrusive, more demanding.
“I’ll call the police,” says Mikey. “I will. They can tell me why I’m here.”
Andy turns and sees the expression on Mikey’s face. He’s glaring like Andy’s the one at fault. Like Mikey is a proud defender of something he’s certain of. Fuck, is this drugs or some shit? Maybe a stroke? He seemed fine earlier. “What’s wrong?”
Mikey just folds his arms, like he’s won the argument, and looks away, shaking his head. It’s the oddest response Andy’s ever seen from an adult. It’s like something a toddler would do. So…okay, call the police? Yeah, that’s where they were. He’ll keep it local, no need to tell Central. Josh has some experience with the projector. He’ll bring him in here to shut it down, check the settings, restart the movie for the angry customers who are doubtless now filling the lobby to complain about the sound, and see if he can get medical help in here.
“Okay, buddy, you stay there, we’ll make sure you’re sorted out.” He heads quickly out into the lobby again, and is surprised to find no annoyed customers, just his staff, gathered together in the middle now, as weirded out as he is. The sound of the movie continues, as strange as before. He starts to ask Chloe to call for an ambulance when there’s the sound of the screen door slamming, very fast, and then suddenly, by the ticket checkpoint, there’s a figure. And then, instantly, several more.
It’s several of the old folk from the screening. How had they got there so fast? There’s kind of a blur around them. As if—
And then they’re right among them. Andy takes a single step forward, a thought forming in his head like this is going to be a public relations nightmare, but in that second he sees something blurred by speed coming at him and reflexively ducks aside.
The blur reforms into an old man, standing by the coffee stall, hunched and looking as scared as Andy is feeling now. Other blurs resolve themselves into other old folk, who are staggering and yelling, appearing and disappearing all over the foyer as they blur in and out. Andy’s team are rocked by sudden impacts as the blurs come at them and strike them and knock them over. They’re surrounded.
“Andy, come on!” That’s Sophie, yelling from the door to the back. Everyone starts running toward her. Andy sees blurs of motion all around him. Some of them head for the main doors and form a line. Are they stopping his people from leaving? It’s weirdly still afternoon out there, still normal out there, if he could just get out there. He hesitates. Are these blurs as scared as he is
or aren’t they?
A blur comes straight at him from the doors, and he jumps aside again, slips on the polished floor, starts staggering, gaining momentum, in a nightmare, toward where Sophie is fighting with Megan just inside the doorway to the locker room. Sophie is trying to get her body into the gap, to keep the door open. Megan is trying to slam it shut, screaming at her to get out of the way. Andy leaps over the counter, grabs the edge of the door, heaves it open, shoves Sophie and Megan in front of him, then throws himself inside and slams the door after him.
They all stand in the room with the lockers, panting. The weird noise of the movie seems impossibly louder still in here, the metal of the sink and kettle vibrating with it. “What the fuck?!” Callum has his hands held up like it’s everyone else’s fault and could they do something about it, please?
“I had to.” Megan steps into Andy’s face. “They were trying to get in. I’m sorry.”
Andy doesn’t know how to deal. He looks to Sophie. “Thanks.”
“Oh like fuck!” shouts Megan. “Oh God, oh God!”
There’s a noise from the door to the lobby. It isn’t like organized thumping, like they were in a zombie movie, although it really is now like they’re in a zombie movie; it’s like random blurs are hitting the door. Thump. Pause. Thump, thump. It’s somehow worse than a determined assault. This doesn’t feel like a story. “What’s happening?” Josh is fumbling with his phone. “I can’t get a signal.”
“You never can back here!” Chloe yells at him.
Andy goes over to the door to the projection booth and makes to open it. His card doesn’t work. He pulls at the handle and finds something is physically holding it back. What’s doing that? Mikey himself? “Mikey, are you okay?” No reply.
“We’re not okay!” That’s Chloe.
Andy looks to Callum. “Tell me everything. Tell me why you did this.”
“You think I did this?”
“I don’t mean—this! I mean why did you want this movie? I heard about the urban legend from Mikey, but what’s it got to do with this?”
Callum spends a moment looking at him like he’s mad to be treating this like it’s a story. But then he visibly decides this is like that. “I don’t know! Mikey told me about it. I thought it’d be a laugh. We could see if it was true.”
“So you wanted one of the old folk to die?” Andy’s aware the others are looking between them in puzzlement.
“My nan comes to these things, okay? I talk to her about the movies after. If it was this one, I could have had a laugh with her about it. And you agreed to this movie—this is your fault!”
“Is your nan one of them out there doing this to us?” asks Megan.
“No! She didn’t come today! So I thought ‘oh well’ and just wanted it to go okay and then maybe Andy would stop looking down his fucking nose at me.”
Andy doesn’t have time to process that. “Did Mikey tell you much about the movie?”
“Yeah. And I read up about it. There are these kids growing up and it’s all great, but there’s this empty house. It’s supposed to be haunted. The kids go there and they see some shit which nobody seems to understand, and they think they’ve got away, but then, as they leave the house, it ages them, in a blur, like that, and it varies by how far they got from the house, so you think one of them that the film’s been about is going to be okay, but he isn’t, either. They go back to their homes and they start passing this stuff on to their families. It doesn’t make much sense. Everyone ages to death.”
“Blurs, right!” Sophie is nodding.
“How do they win?” Andy asks. “How do they stop it?”
“I think…maybe someone burns down the house?”
“Could we burn the movie?” says Chloe.
“The movie’s a digital download,” says Josh. “Maybe we could burn, I don’t know, the projector, the computer?”
“We’re going to set something on fire,” says Chloe, “while we’re trapped in here?” There’s a sudden flurry of battering at the door, as maybe three of whatever those things are hit it in close succession. Everyone yells. Andy sees the door bulge like it’s literally about to come off its hinges.
He goes back to the projection booth door. “Mikey,” he shouts, “it’s us! You have to—!”
The door to the lobby bursts open, the lock flying across the room. The blurs are among them. Andy has time to see one rush at him.
Then it’s on him.
* * *
He takes a deep breath, in shock…and then realizes everything is peaceful. He’s somewhere else. Everything about where he is feels familiar, but, like in a dream, it takes him a moment to get it.
He’s at home. At his family home. He’s alone. He’s standing in the middle of the living room. All the furniture of his childhood is here. There’s the vase he’d broken, that Mum had angrily glued back together. The shape of the crack had always reminded him of her anger. There’s the sofa cover he ripped.
Oh God. His parents are in here. He can hear them talking, through the wall. He goes to the window. He sees the blurs swirling in the corn outside like the tornadoes that are only in films. They’re all around the house. There’s no getting out of here.
He goes to find the voices. Every door he opens is familiar. He can hear his dad louder than his mum. He finds the correct doorknob. He goes in to see him. There he is, in the bedroom that smells of him. He’s lying on the bed, his mouth open. His eyes are open, too. The pills are all over his pyjama top. Andy sits down beside him, like he did on the day he found him. He’d come back in after working at the print shop, expecting to talk to Dad about his day, about his memories of Mum. Dad is half in pyjamas and half-dressed. The television is on. It’s showing some nothing shit. Someone talking and talking.
Andy stands up, like he’d stood up then. There had been grief. Such grief. For weeks. But he’d got past it. His back had straightened. And stiffened. He goes to change the channel on the television. He sees on it the date of his own death. There’s his name. There’s the date. He knows what that is. The television announcer tells him, to make sure he gets it. It’s still decades away. But real. He nods at it.
He goes to kiss his father, though he doesn’t have to. He did this at the time, and that had ended a thing, and this is just for his pleasure, not his need.
Then he heads for the kitchen, where the front door is. He finds Mum hanging there. As he had before. He’d expected it. He doesn’t close his eyes. Like last time. He looked. He looks long and hard once again and then he nods again.
He goes to the front door and opens it and goes back.
* * *
The blur rushes away from Andy. He’s back in the locker room. He sees what’s happened to the others. The blurs seem to be avoiding them now. Oh. Because they’ve all been inside one. They’ve all been changed, in a way he hasn’t. Chloe is kneeling, weeping, staring off into space and stroking her own shoulder with bent fingers, saying, “Listen, I forgot to say, before I go…” over and over again. Megan is muttering and glaring, making faces at the others, faces that are almost ridiculously angry.
“Someone’s taken my money,” says Callum, taking notes from his own pocket and letting them fall to the floor as if they aren’t the money he was looking for. “We need to call the police.” Josh is walking like an animal in a bad zoo, from one side of the room to the other, then immediately back the other way.
Sophie comes up to him. There’s a much more stable look on her face. “You can’t trust them,” she says. “The Canadians. They all stick together. They say they’re poor, but they look after each other. They’re given all the jobs. You switch on the BBC, always a Canadian, never one of us. Kids these days hear those accents in school and they come home copying them. If we’re not careful, we’ll all become Canadian.”
Andy takes a step back, not able to cope with
the look in her eyes that demands agreement or the world will fall apart. If this is a horror movie he’s in, is this, like, meant to be these people getting what they deserve? He doesn’t see how. Some of it seems to mean something, but most of it seems random. It all just…is. He finds himself thinking about the dream he just had while he was in the blur, and he can’t find anything in it to hold on to. The thought falls away. Why isn’t he like the others are? He has no idea.
He doesn’t want to wait to see if he’s going to get another dose. From inside the projection booth, the sounds of the movie are increasing, even more, still distant in that weird way, as always, moving toward a climax. The blurs seem to be ignoring him for now. He runs through the remains of the door into the foyer. The blurs suddenly flood out behind him, like he’s their leader now. And he realizes, with horror, what’s ahead. The first punters for the evening movies are approaching the main doors, the ones who wanted to print their tickets before going for a meal. They have puzzled expressions on their faces. Where is everyone? What are they seeing in there? The blurs speed for the doors, hungry for them.
What can Andy do? He can still hear the sounds of the movie out here. And that gives him a thought, a save-the-day horror-movie-hero thought.
He sprints back into the room with the lockers. There are a couple of blurs left in here. He dives at one of them, grabs at it, finds something solid inside, and pushes it in the direction he wants it to go.
Final Cuts Page 14