(phone) Crime scene photos and your watercolors are a match, all right. So much so that I wish I could circulate that drawing you did of the Ripper to every cop in the city.
NORA:
Why don’t you then?
WINTERS:
(phone) Cops can’t pick up a suspect on the basis of a dreamer’s drawing.
Never mind getting laughed out of court, I couldn’t pick the bastard up in the first place.
NORA:
You could shadow him, or...
WINTERS:
(phone) I appreciate what you’re doing. Stay in touch.
SOUND:
Click of cell phone hanging up.
NORA:
Why don’t the police do something?
I’ve handed them the bastard!
MATHIS:
(upbeat) Maybe they will, pretty soon.
NORA:
What do you mean?
MATHIS:
Come over and sit on the couch with me.
SOUND:
Couch springs as she sits.
MATHIS:
I just got a text message – we’ve had several calls at the paper saying a man closely resembling your sketch has been seen in Evanston.
NORA:
(perking) You think there’s something to it?
MATHIS:
Well, one caller spoke of noticing the man had one blue eye and one brown one...
NORA:
Damn! D’you think Detective Winters would pay attention to that?
MATHIS:
Probably not. But I’ll drive around Evanston tomorrow myself, and show the picture around.
NORA:
The police should be doing that.
MATHIS:
Hey – it’s what I should be doing – I’m the reporter cracking this case, remember? There could be a book in it, and then maybe I could afford to take in a roommate.
NORA:
...Anybody special in mind?
MATHIS:
I like that idea you had – running a classified in my paper.
NORA:
(intimately) Maybe I can save you some money.
MATHIS:
(tentatively) Do you, uh...think maybe now that you’ve proven the Heather Meeker connection that, uh...maybe you can lay your demons to rest?
NORA:
I don’t know about my demons...
SOUND:
Clothing rustle. Kissing.
MATHIS:
(soft; heavy breathing) I...I never made love to a virgin before...Can’t it be painful for you, first time...?
NORA:
Don’t worry about it. I lost mine riding a bike.
MATHIS:
(confident purr) That’s what they all say...
MUSIC:
Comes up and then fades under.
SOUND:
Squeaking springs of people sitting up in bed.
NORA:
(dreamy) Second time was even better.
MATHIS:
Just wait’ll the third.
NORA:
Rich...do you think...?
MATHIS:
What?
NORA:
Nothing. It’s just...the visions.
The dreams. They’ve all been sexual.
MATHIS:
I wouldn’t say sexual exactly. Sex interrupted by violence, certainly.
NORA:
Now that...now that you’ve helped me overcome my sexual hang-up --
MATHIS:
You’re welcome.
NORA:
Will the visions stop, d’you think?
MATHIS:
Possibly. Or maybe they’ll manifest themselves in some other way. I mean, the psychic floodgate’s obviously open.
NORA:
Oh, I hope not!
SOUND:
Bed springs as people move in bed.
MATHIS:
Well, try it out – quit talking and go to sleep...
NORA:
Sure. Easy. Just try not to dream...
ANNOUNCER:
We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after this.
ANNOUNCER:
And now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories and the conclusion to “Reincarnal.”
SOUND:
Sizzling bacon.
NORA:
Good morning. Don’t tell me you cook, too?
MATHIS:
Full-service. How do you like your eggs?
NORA:
Scrambled.
MATHIS:
Sit. I’ll bring you coffee.
SOUND:
Chair scrape.
MATHIS:
Any dreams?
NORA:
Only of you.
MATHIS:
Nice to hear...I’m going out to Evanston today. Prowl around that neighborhood where that guy was spotted – the one who looks like your drawing?
SOUND:
Coffee pouring.
NORA:
Wish I could go along. I have a deadline on an art assignment.
MATHIS:
This is just tedious reporter stuff.
But, uh...if you go out, take care. I brought you a gun.
NORA:
What?
MATHIS:
Ever use one before?
NORA:
No! Not in this lifetime...
MATHIS:
I’ll give you a quick tutorial after breakfast. Little snubby.38. Should fit in your purse...Here’s your breakfast.
SOUND:
Plate put down on table.
NORA:
This talk of guns...sort of losing my appetite.
SOUND:
Chair scrape.
MATHIS:
I can’t be with you all the time, Nora.
NORA:
I wasn’t mentioned by name in your article...
MATHIS:
I know. But if this madman found out who you were somehow, well...humor me. Take the gun.
NORA:
All right. I owe you.
MATHIS:
You do?
NORA:
Sure. You made me a woman, didn’t you? At age thirty.
NARRATOR:
Rich Mathis drives to Evanston and pokes around, and almost everyone he speaks to says the same thing: Nora’s picture resembles a man who works as a janitor at First Christian Church.
SOUND:
Two knocks on a doorjamb.
PASTOR:
Yes?
MATHIS:
Pastor Davis? I need to speak to your janitor. Is he in?
PASTOR:
Delbert’s out running some errands, but should be back shortly. May be I of help?
MATHIS:
I’m Rich Mathis. Reporter? Delbert’s been mentioned as someone who might have witnessed a crime, and I’d like to chat with him about it.
PASTOR:
Well, that sounds a little ominous.
But, uh...Delbert should be back shortly.
MATHIS:
You mind my asking what sort of fella he is?
PASTOR:
Quiet. Devout. Couldn’t ask for a better servant of the lord. Simple soul – lives right here in a little apartment in the church basement.
MATHIS:
Well, thank you for your help, Pastor.
I’ll stop back later...
NARRATOR:
But the reporter doesn’t really leave. Instead he slips down a side stairway into the basement, where off a banquet room he finds the janitor’s quarters near the furnace.
MATHIS:
(to himself) Must be hot as hell in here...homemade book shelves...religion...philosophy...no fiction...no porn. No TV...
NARRATOR:
As Rich Mathis studies Bible School-style print of Jesus above the janitor’s cot, Nora – after an afternoon of work – is napping. Dreaming...
MUSIC:
Eerie; plays under.
NORA:
(dreamy, t
rance-like) I am a man.
Alone in a small room – in a basement, dreary, dank. Chest of drawers filled with men’s clothing, work clothes, a suit, all looking vaguely Good Will.
In a bottom drawer, I find scrapbooks.
I open one – and I see newspaper clippings. The clippings are yellowed at first, getting progressively whiter with each book. They start in Chicago, move to Detroit, then to San Diego, then Omaha, and always the same: slayings. Couples butchered.
And the bottom scrapbook is one in progress...the return of the Chicago Ripper. I glance up at the mirror over the bureau. I am Rich Mathis.
NARRATOR:
Nora wakes, knowing Rich is in danger...
NORA:
Rich!
SOUND:
Cell phone dialing.
MATHIS:
(phone) This is Rich Mathis. Please leave your number and message. Thank you.
NARRATOR:
Evanston. Rich went to Evanston today. And that cement sanctum, it is in Evanston. Nora puts the gun Rich gave her into her purse, and goes down to the street and hails a cab.
SOUND:
Street sounds. Car door opens, closes.
NORA:
Evanston.
CABBIE:
Where in Evanston?
NORA:
Just Evanston!
CABBIE:
Oh-kay...
NARRATOR:
(build tempo) But in Evanston, she begins giving the cab driver directions, turn right, turn left, stop here...at a church. She rushes up the stairs and inside, brushing past a pastor, going down stairs until she is in that room, near a furnace, and there is Rich...on the floor...bleeding, holding his chest...with a man in coveralls kneeling over him with a butcher knife in hand. A thin-faced man with one blue eye and one brown.
NORA:
Rich!
MATHIS:
(weak) Nora...
NORA:
You! Turn around. Now!
DELBERT:
Who...who are you?
NORA:
Put down the knife down.
DELBERT:
No. Who are you?
NORA:
Don’t you remember me?...I remember you, you and your one blue eye and the other brown.
SOUND:
Delbert screams as he attacks. Nora grunts. Purse fumble. Gun shot.
Body hits floor.
DELBERT:
Please...please don’t...I’m a good man! I punish sinners!
NORA:
Why, you look like you’re praying. Do you pray for forgiveness from your victims, here in this little monk’s chamber?
DELBERT:
It...it hurts...
NORA:
Why don’t you just ask me for forgiveness? Don’t you remember me?
I’m Heather!
DELBERT:
Wha...wha...?
NORA:
Heather Meeker. I came back for you.
DELBERT:
(soft) Heather. You were...you were a bad girl...
NORA:
No I wasn’t. You’re wondering why I don’t pick that knife up, and make you suffer, too? Like you did me, and so many others? Well, I don’t want you to suffer...I just want you to go away. Just get the hell out!
SOUND:
Gunshot.
SOUND:
Approaching footsteps on stairs.
PASTOR:
(somewhat distant) What’s going on in there?
NORA:
Call 911! We need an ambulance!...Rich, darling...you’re going to be fine.
MATHIS:
(weak but relieved) I know. You, too.
MUSIC:
Comes up, starting serious and then drops back down, getting lighter.
NARRATOR:
A week later, Nora Chaney brings Rich Mathis home from the hospital, to her loft apartment.
NORA:
Let’s get you to bed.
MATHIS:
That’s a great offer...just not sure I’m up to it.
NORA:
We’ll get you up to it.
NARRATOR:
But we don’t need to intrude upon this happy reunion, do we? We are not madmen with butcher knives, lurking outside a window – no. Surely our dreadtime tale is done...almost.
SOUND:
Bed springs.
NORA:
Rich!
MATHIS:
(waking) Huh? What?
NORA:
I had a dream.
MATHIS:
(slurred) Uh, really? That right?
NORA:
But I wasn’t a specific person this time. I was just a presence in a white room. Doctors, standing around a table...a mother...feet in the stirrups...it’s a delivery room. Baby born...
MATHIS:
That’s a nice dream...
MATHIS:
Just a nightmare, honey. Go back to sleep.
NORA:
No, Rich – you don’t understand...He’s back.
NORA:
No, it isn’t! The birth wail, it...it was like a scream of rage...
MUSIC:
Sting. Then into Fangoria Theme.
ANNOUNCER:
“Reincarnal” was adapted for radio by Max Allan Collins and based on his short story. Heard in the cast were:
Reincarnal Page 3
