by Bryan Smith
But he couldn’t seem to help himself. He wasn’t in his right mind at all.
He choked down one more beer and got out of the car.
As John staggered toward the theater, Greg Nelson watched his drunken progress with a disdainful fascination. The drunk was weaving badly. Twice he bumped into parked cars and nearly tumbled to the ground. The man was pathetic. Clearly a late-stage alcoholic.
Not that Greg cared.
He had concerns of his own, after all. He spied Kira’s silver Hyundai almost immediately. It was empty. She and Lashon were already inside the theater. He parked on the other side of the lot and turned his car’s engine off.
He made no move to get out of the car.
He would wait another ten to fifteen minutes, long enough for the feature presentations to begin. Then he would go up to the box office and purchase a ticket, just another late-arriving fright film fan. According to Lashon’s blog entry from this afternoon, the movie they’d be seeing first was Rise of the Dead.
That was so helpful of her, posting her plans for all the world to see.
She would never know he was in the theater with her.
Chapter Five
The man in the ticket booth had a swarthy complexion and eyes that looked too big for his head, the orbs bulging from their sockets in a deeply unsettling way. He was slender and wore a rumpled and ill-fitting tuxedo. He greeted each customer with a tersely uttered and oddly formal “good evening, sir” or “good evening, madam”. His accent was vaguely foreign but not immediately identifiable. A pencil-thin mustache made him look like a silent film actor, as did slicked-back, short black hair. Rings of varying types and sizes adorned each of his fingers. The rings struck Monroe as odd. In his experience, men who were not mobsters or rap stars did not wear rings, unless they were to signify marriage, successful completion of high school or college in a particular year, or fraternity affiliation.
Jason, being devoid of tact, of course had to comment as soon as he stepped up to the ticket window. “Dude. What’s up with all the fucking rings?”
“Do you wish to buy a ticket?”
A snort. “How did you guess? Two motherfucking tickets, pal. What are you, some kind of gypsy fortune teller?”
The ticket seller pushed a button and two paper tickets popped out of a slot on the metal counter. “I am not a gypsy. Two tickets is fifty dollars.”
“Fifty fucking dollars? Are you for real?”
The man’s strange smile did not falter. “One ticket buys access to all movies. You may see one or you may see them all. Do you wish to pay or not?”
Jason brought out his wallet, a black cloth thing emblazoned with the words BAD MOTHERFUCKER in block lettering, like Samuel Jackson’s wallet in Pulp Fiction. Which happened to be his favorite movie. He counted out bills and pushed them through the slot in the ticket window. “Are you sure you’re a dude?”
The ticket seller pushed the tickets through the slot. “You are holding up the line, sir. Please move along so that I may service the next customer.”
Nikki, standing beside Jason, giggled. “Service.”
Several people in the vicinity also tittered.
Jason snatched up the tickets. He took Nikki by an arm and began to steer her toward the entrance. But he couldn’t resist one last snide shot at the weird ticket seller. “I’m curious about your sex change operation. I’ve got a general understanding of how the man-into-a-woman process works, but the other way around’s a mystery. What did they use to make your dick?”
“Move along, sir. Please.”
“Oh, and what’s up with your eyes? You should see a doctor about that.”
“Sir, if you don’t—”
Jason’s loud laughter cut him off. “It’s cool. I’ll leave you alone now. Whatever you are.”
Nikki giggled again and then they were pushing open the glass door to the left of the ticket booth and stepping into the theater. Monroe reached for his wallet as he and Kira stepped up to the window. Kira gripped his arm lightly and spoke in an emphatic tone. “No. I’m paying.”
Monroe frowned. He didn’t know how to feel about that. For one thing, he wasn’t sure if this qualified as an official date. On dates, guys were expected to do things like buy tickets and pick up the check at restaurants. It was one of the rules and everyone knew it. On the other hand, he didn’t have a lot of money currently and it was tempting to let Kira pay…
“Look—”
Kira looked him in the eye. “I’m paying. Seriously. It’s no big deal. I already told Lashon I’d pay her way in and, because you’re my date now, I’ll get your ticket, too.”
“Um…”
Lashon sighed behind them. “Will you just let her do it? You know you can’t win arguments with her.”
Monroe did know that. “Okay. Whatever.”
Kira stepped up to the booth and purchased three tickets. Monroe noted a flyer taped to the booth’s glass window. It read Doctor Ominous presents The Late Night Horror Show!!
“Who the hell is this Doctor Ominous dude?”
Lashon snorted. “Who cares?”
Moments later they were inside the theater. Another slender, tuxedo-wearing man with a swarthy complexion stood at a metal stanchion to the rear of the booth. He took their tickets, tore them in half, and wished them a pleasant evening. Monroe glanced back at him as they moved farther into the lobby and approached the concessions stand. Then he looked at Kira. “This must be a family business.”
“Yeah.”
“Those dudes look exactly alike. I mean exactly.”
“I know that, Monroe. I have eyes of my own, you know.”
“I’m just sayin’…it’s fuckin’ eerie.”
Kira shrugged. “Maybe they’re twins.”
Lashon slugged him in the shoulder. “Try triplets.”
Monroe followed her eyes and did a double take when he saw the man standing behind the concessions counter. This man wore a bow tie and a black satin vest over a starched white shirt, but physically he was another virtual clone of the ticket seller, with the same slender build, complexion, thin mustache, and slicked-back hair.
Monroe leaned close to Kira to whisper in her ear. “What’d I fuckin’ tell you? Eerie.”
Kira squinted at the guy in the bow tie. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe you’re right.”
Jason and Nikki were already at the counter. Jason caught Monroe’s eye and grinned. He jerked a thumb at the man in the bow tie, whose back was turned to them at the moment. He was scooping fresh popcorn into a large bucket. “You see this shit?”
Monroe stepped closer to his friend and kept his voice low. “They all look alike.”
“Exactly alike.”
“That’s what I said.”
“It’s weird.”
“Weird as fuck.”
Brix Harris abruptly moved into Monroe’s field of vision, stepping right up to Jason and getting in his face. She and Trevor had been behind Lashon in the ticket queue. Her body language was visibly hostile. “Jason.”
He frowned at her. “Yeah. What’s your problem?”
“I just like to know what kind of people I’m hanging out with. I’d like to know if you always act like a retarded monkey in public.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
His tone was harsh, but she didn’t back off one bit. “That obnoxious display at the ticket window. Did you think you were funny?”
His frown slowly transformed into a crooked smile. “Shit. I know I was funny.”
“You sounded kind of like a bigot.”
The frown returned. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Goddamn. How the fuck did you get that out of anything I said?”
“I’ve got transgendered friends. Think about it.”
Jason, looking incredulous, stared at her. “It was a joke, for fuck’s sake. And I’ve got a hard time believing you have friends. Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.” Brix’s acid tone seemed thi
ck with the threat of real violence. “You’re an idiot. And you better watch yourself.”
Jason shook his head. “Are you seriously scolding me, like I’m some kind of little kid? I’m just having fun. You’re not my mama, so piss off with that shit. And knock off the stupid threats. You don’t scare me. Got it?”
“Just mind your damn manners so I don’t have to kick your ass.”
The man in the bow tie cleared his throat. Jason blinked and looked at him. The items he’d ordered were on the counter. He picked up the popcorn bucket and passed the oversized fountain soda cup to Nikki, who was glaring at Brix. He looked at Monroe, then at Trevor. “I could say a lot of things here, but I’m just gonna keep my fuckin’ mouth shut, out of consideration for my friends.”
He and Nikki walked away.
Brix glared after him for a moment before returning to the back of the line.
Monroe leaned close to Kira. “Awkward silence.”
She responded with a grunt and spoke under her breath. “Yeah.”
Monroe shrugged the weirdness of the moment away and approached the counter. They ordered popcorn with extra butter, candy, and large sodas, then headed off to the theater showing Blood Lust.
Lashon accepted the candy and soda purchased for her by Kira and went off by herself to the theater showing Chainsaw Maniac, having abruptly decided she didn’t want to be in the same theater with Brix Harris. And she thought it’d be nice to give Kira and Monroe some space while they watched the vamp movie, making it more like a real date for them. At least for the first movie. She’d catch the second screening of the zombie flick with them, avoiding the weird Harris girl altogether.
Though he’d been the focus of Brix’s hostility, Jason wasn’t about to let that sway him from seeing the first screening of Rise of the Dead. Given the number of people present, the theater would be mostly empty anyway. He and Nikki would just sit far away from the weird hicks, making out for ninety-some minutes while the end of the world played out on the big screen.
The initial screening of Blood Lust was lightly attended, to understate. Monroe and Kira had the back row of the theater to themselves. Another couple sat in the row closest to the screen, a world away. They had the place virtually to themselves. The theater lights went down and the requisite safety announcement appeared on the screen. Kira leaned closer to him and dipped a hand inside the large bucket of popcorn propped on his lap. Monroe put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned even closer. An MPAA advisory appeared on the screen and the first coming-attractions trailer began soon after.
Monroe smiled.
The real fun was about to begin.
Chapter Six
John Dorsey took no note of any oddities regarding the theater employees. He was too off kilter physically and emotionally for such things to register. The employees, in turn, opted to ignore the pint bottle of whiskey shoved down his right hip pocket, though the outline of the bottle was very plain to see. At any other theater on any other night, the bottle would have been confiscated by theater staff before he was allowed in. He was so drunk many theaters might have barred him from entering at all.
But the Sunshine 6 was no ordinary theater and, despite appearances to the contrary, the employees were not actually human.
John purchased his ticket and entered the theater with no complications. He staggered over to the concessions stand, purchased a fountain soda, and promptly reeled off in the direction of the nearest auditorium, which turned out to be the one showing Chainsaw Maniac.
Some fifteen minutes later, Greg Nelson got out of his car, walked up to the ticket booth, and purchased a ticket. Unlike John, he was absolutely sober and therefore noticed the employees’ similarity in appearance, along with a few other odd little quirks, including the way their dark complexions masked somewhat the flawlessness of their flesh, which was devoid of any wrinkles or blemishes. Their skin had an almost artificial quality to it, as if they weren’t quite real at all. Greg dismissed this as fanciful nonsense as he entered the theater, where he bypassed the concessions stand and headed directly for the auditorium showing Rise of the Dead.
The lights had gone down in each auditorium in the Sunshine 6. The theater-safety announcements and lame commercials were over. Trailers for all six films that were a part of the Late Night Horror Show festival were being screened now.
Brix Harris and Trevor McKinley were kicked back in seats in the approximate middle of the auditorium screening Rise of the Dead. Brix had her right leg up, with her foot wedged into the space between the two empty seats in front of her. She munched on a piece of popcorn and watched the trailer for Blood Lust, which looked boring as hell. It was the usual angst-ridden vampire nonsense.
This impression had nothing to do with how pissed she was that Trevor’s friend had opted to see it first with that hipster chick Kira, rather than sticking to the original plan. She loved horror in general, but vampires were her least favorite of all the major monsters. Modern authors and filmmakers were too prone to portraying them as objects of desire or as potential romantic partners. Puke. The old vampires were all right. Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee. All those old Universal and Hammer Films classics. But the angsty shit?
Fucking…PUKE.
The Blood Lust trailer ended at last, mercifully. A trailer for something called House of the Damned began a few moments later. It looked better than Blood Lust—almost anything would—but it stirred no real excitement in her. It was a haunted house thriller. There were scenes of people dying in weird accidents apparently caused by hostile poltergeist activity. The main characters were introduced in a series of quick cuts. They were ghost hunters or something. It looked like a tedious rip-off of Paranormal Activity.
Whatever.
The trailer ended.
Brix smiled.
Just two to go and then—ZOMBIES!
She glanced at Trevor, who was watching her in his standard adoring way. As usual, he was far more interested in her than anything else that was going on. She leaned over for a kiss and felt his tongue flick between her lips. The physical contact sent a delicious shiver through her body. She couldn’t help thinking back to the wild abandon of their coupling in the woods this afternoon. When she was with Trevor, it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist at all. She bit down on his lower lip, making an animal sound deep in her throat and eliciting a groan from him in return.
She abruptly broke the clinch and popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She smiled. “Zombies.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Yay, zombies. I just wish Monroe was here. Then I could relax and watch the movie without being distracted by your hotness.”
Her expression darkened. “Monroe needs a better class of friends.”
“We don’t really know them.”
Brix grunted. “I know all I need to know. Fuck them.”
Trevor didn’t say anything this time, but his discomfort was palpable. She knew he thought she was too judgmental. What he didn’t understand was that life was too short to waste time trying to accommodate assholes. She didn’t have room in her life for obnoxious clowns like Jason Tatum, end of story. The same went for his dim-witted, busty girlfriend. Kira and Lashon weren’t as bad, but they both irritated her in different ways. They were the kind of chicks who thought they were better than regular people because they were in college. Smarter and more sophisticated. The hell with both of them.
So, status quo. The only person she gave a damn about was Trevor.
And he was right here with her.
She squeezed his hand.
Another trailer was starting. The very last one before the feature presentation.
Brix grinned in anticipation.
The zombies were almost here.
A quick scan of the auditorium showed maybe as many as two dozen people seated and waiting to see Rise of the Dead. Given the paltry number of cars in the parking lot, Greg deduced that a large majority of the paying customers had elected to see this film first.
The door swung shut behind him as he moved farther down the aisle. It was too dark to identify any individual from this distance, but he could see that most of the audience was comprised of couples on dates, with one largish group of perhaps five or six people seated together in the front row. From the noise they were making, he assumed they were drunk teenagers. A few other people sat alone at various spots throughout the auditorium, usually well removed from anyone else. In his effort to locate Lashon, Greg elected to ignore the singles and the large group up front. He took a few more tentative steps down the aisle and attempted to study the rest of the attendees without being obvious about it. Despite his efforts at subtlety, a pretty blonde girl in a denim jacket caught him looking and flipped him a middle finger. Her expression made it clear she was not to be fucked with and he quickly moved along.
Lashon was having second thoughts. The decision to see Chainsaw Maniac had been made hastily. She hadn’t wanted to be around that weirdo Brix and had tried to do something nice for her friend by giving her some space. The latter was admirable, she supposed. The kind of thing a real friend just did now and then. Considering she’d abused her friendship with Kira lately, it was no doubt the right thing to have done. But here she was. Alone. Goddammit. She did not care for this shit at all.
Here I am, she thought. Sitting by myself in a smelly old decrepit theater, waiting to see a movie about a chainsaw-wielding asshole butchering young virgins. I am not a pimply sixteen-year-old boy with a head full of fucked-up slasher fantasies, so what’s wrong with this fucking picture?