The Midnight Tour

by Richard Laymon

  Did we really do all that?

  Damn straight, he thought, and smiled. He could feel the reality of it all over his body.

  They aren’t exactly strangers anymore.

  Turning his head, he looked at Darke. She was staring forward, her eyes half-shut.

  How could I ever think she was a guy?

  She looked at him. A corner of her mouth tilted slightly.

  Then she leaned toward him, reached over the chair arm that separated them, and gently took hold of his hand.

  His heart raced. His mouth went dry.

  This is crazy, he thought.

  She’s holding my band like a normal girl.

  But the feel of a girl’s hand hadn’t made Owen feel like this in a very long time. Not since he was thirteen, he supposed. Thirteen and holding Nancy Farrow’s hand...

  “Is this row all right with you, professor?”

  Monica’s voice.

  It gave Owen a sudden sick feeling.

  Darke’s hand tightened its grip.

  “Lady’s choice,” Bixby said, his voice booming at its usual volume.

  Owen swung his head, peered over his right shoulder and saw Monica coming down the aisle with the professor.

  “What do you want to do?” Darke whispered.

  The sound of her voice sent a thrilling warmth through Owen.

  He looked into her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Vein said.

  “I mean it.” Darke released her hold on Owen’s hand, but he kept his grip on hers. Her eyes widened a little. She pressed her lips together.

  “This’ll be fine,” Monica said.

  Owen kept his eyes on Darke’s eyes. But he noticed that Monica’s voice had come from nearby.

  “If you want her back,” Darke whispered, “I can help.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t stand her.”

  Nodding slightly, Darke squeezed his hand. Her eyes shifted sideways, then returned to Owen. “Looks like she’s going to sit behind us.”

  “Owie, is that you?”

  He twisted in his seat and forced himself to smile. “Hello, Monica.”

  She sat down directly behind Darke. “You’ve met Professor Bixby, haven’t you?”

  “Hi, Clive.”

  “Owie,” Clive boomed, and dropped into the seat behind him. “Too bad you missed the picnic. We had a ripping good time!”

  “Glad to hear it,” Owen said.

  “Had a spot of digestive trouble, did you?”

  “Right.”

  “A shame. Likely the Polish sausage. But of course, your sister also ate the Polish, and had no trouble at all.”

  “Owie has such sensitive bowels,” Monica explained, smiling at Darke.

  Sister?

  Twisting around farther, Owen said to Bixby, “If my bowels are sensitive, it’s because Monica is such a pain in the ass. I didn’t have digestive troubles. I escaped from the picnic to get away from her. And she’s not my sister. She’s my former girlfriend. Presently, she’s my stalker.”

  Clive looked astonished. “I say,” he said.

  Monica, sitting rigid and motionless, smiled sweetly at Owen and said, “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, buster.”

  “What a laugh. You’re an obnoxious bitch and I’m sick of you.”

  “That’s no way to talk to the lady, young chap,” Bixby said.

  Darke turned her head. “What’s with you and your fake accent, professor?”

  “Ah! Now we have the castrato weighing in.”

  “Get bit,” Darke said.

  Vein twisted around. “Can’t we all just get along?” she said, glancing from Bixby to Monica. “Otherwise, I may pay you a visit during the show. You might not care for that.”

  They both stared at her.

  The lights went off.

  Owen turned forward.

  In the total darkness., Monica said, “I’ve had enough of this foolishness. Come back here and sit with me, Owen. Right now. I’m not kidding.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Suddenly, a spotlight came on. Its beam slanted down through the darkness and lit the center of the stage. There stood Lynn Tucker, a microphone in one hand.

  “I guess everyone’s here,” she said. “Welcome to the Haunted Palace. Before we start the film, let me give you some background. In 1982, the year of The Horror’s original release, Malcasa Point didn’t have a functioning movie theater. The old theater had burnt down a few years earlier. But Janice Crogan really wanted The Horror to be shown somewhere in town. After all, she’d written the book it was based on, and the film was about Malcasa Point. It’d be a shame, she thought, if none of her friends or neighbors would get a chance to see it. So she asked for permission to show the film at the high school auditorium. No dice. The Legion hall. No dice. The Elks. Nope. The K. of C. Huh-uh. She even asked permission at a couple of local churches. Everybody refused. When The Horror came out, Janice could find only one suitable place to show it—the dining room of the Welcome Inn. She owned the Welcome Inn, and she couldn’t very well refuse her own request.”

  A few quiet chuckles came from audience members scattered around the auditorium.

  Monica said, “Lame.”

  “The very first local screening took place at ten o’clock on a Saturday night in the dining room of the Welcome Inn—projected onto a bed sheet that Janice hung on the wall. There was standing room only. Soon after that, Janice purchased a parcel of property and began the construction of her own movie theater. She modeled it after a place called The Haunted Palace that she’d read about...”

  “Poe,” proclaimed Dr. Bixby. “‘A hideous throng rush out forever, and laugh—but smile no more,’”

  Lynn smiled. “Nifty poem.”

  “It’s called, ‘The Haunted Palace.’ It can be found in ‘The Fall of the House of Usher.’”

  “That was not Janice Crogan’s source,” Darke said in a firm, clear voice.

  “I beg to differ,” Bixby said.

  “Actually,” Lynn said, “that’s correct. Was that you, Darke?”

  “That was me.”

  “You know your stuff.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Janice’s inspiration for The Haunted Palace didn’t come from Edgar Allan Poe, it came from a relatively unknown horror novel published in 1982. The book told about a movie theater that exclusively showed horror films...”

  “And snuff films,” Darke whispered to Owen.

  He nodded.

  “....What Janice wanted to do with her theater.”

  “I read it,” Owen said. As Darke smiled and nodded, he whispered the title of the book, the name of the author.

  “...under construction, she continued to show The Horror every Saturday night at...”

  “I love his stuff,” Darke whispered.

  “...Welcome Inn’s dining room.”

  “Me, too,” whispered Owen.

  Darke squeezed his hand.

  “...until she opened The Haunted Palace in 1984. From that time on, this theater has been running a full schedule of classic and contemporary horror films. But every Saturday night, it closes its doors to the general public at about nine o’clock and opens again at ten for the exclusive, Midnight Tour screening of The Horror.

  “Before I go on to talk to you about the film itself, are there any questions about the theater?”

  “Does it, like, show the good stuff?”

  Lynn smiled and shook her head. “Such as?”

  “I Spit on Your Grave, man. It’s the best.”

  “How about Cannibal? That’s way cool.”

  “The Hills Have Eyes?”

  “What about Chain Saw?”

  “Last House on the Left?”

  Lynn held up a hand. “Those have all been shown here, guys, but...”

  “What’s your fave?�
��

  “Hard to say. But we do need to start The Horror fairly soon. If you’ll leave your names and addresses, we’ll put you on The Haunted Palace mailing list. There’s a sign-up sheet in the theater lobby. Any more questions?”

  “Do you show Cabin Boy?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a horror film,” Lynn said.

  “Sure it is. It’s got, like, a giant.”

  “It’s got, like, Dave.”

  “Young men!” Bixby bellowed. “Some of us are not interested in your drivel.”

  “Like, chill, dude,” Dennis said.

  “Take a Prozac, asswipe,” said Arnold.

  Lynn frowned at them. “That’s enough, guys. I’d like to get in a few words about the movie.”

  Behind Owen, Bixby muttered, “Did one of those little shits call me an asswipe?”

  “Okay,” Lynn said into the microphone. “Most of you are probably already familiar with the background of The Horror, or you wouldn’t be here. So I’ll make it brief. The film was based on Janice Crogan’s 1980 bestseller, The Horror at Malcasa Point, and made by an independent film company that called itself Malcasa Pictures. The screenplay was written by Steve Saunders, and the director was Ray Cunningham. The entire picture was filmed on location here in town in the summer of 1980.

  “The making of The Horror was delayed by a situation that’s probably no less strange than the story of Beast House, itself. It’s been written up...many times. There’ve even been segments about it on such T.V. shows as Hard Copy and Unsolved Mysteries.

  “As most of you already know, the legendary Marlon Slade came into town to direct The Horror. The leading lady was set to be played by Tricia Talbot, a beautiful young actress who would later go on to star in such movies as Silent Sbriek and Sunset Nights before her tragic death in 1988.

  “Tricia was supposed to play the role of Janice Crogan in The Horror. However, the night before shooting was scheduled to begin, she was brutally beaten and raped by Slade. At the time, it was all kept very hush-hush. She drove off in the middle of the night. The next day, Slade explained her absence by saying that she had quit the film over ‘creative differences.’ Tricia later gave her version of the assault to the police, but it wasn’t made public until several years later.

  “The reason she talked to the police was because—the very next day after raping her—Slade disappeared without a trace. Vanished into thin air.

  “According to his assistant, he’d gone off to look for a young lady who called herself Margaret Blume. Margaret had been a guide at Beast House. Apparently, she was a very beautiful young woman, probably no older than sixteen. To this day, she remains a mystery. It’s believed that the name she used may have been an alias derived from Judy Blume, the author, and her very popular book, Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret.

  “Almost nothing is known about Margaret Blume—just that she’d been guiding tours through Beast House for about a year before the film crew came to town. It’s speculated that she was a run-away who wandered into town, went on the Beast House tour, and somehow worked her way into becoming a guide. She would’ve been hired by Agnes Kutch, but Agnes has never been very communicative. All we really know about Margaret is that she was a young teenager and extremely attractive. Attractive enough to entice Marlon Slade.

  “The day after his assault on Tricia Talbot, Slade approached Margaret about taking a role in the movie. Instead of simply turning the offer down, she fled—tailed by Slade’s assistant, who later told Slade where to find her. It seems that Margaret lived by herself in an old trailer up in the hills.

  “That night, Slade must’ve gone to pay her a visit. His car was later found abandoned not far from the area where Margaret’s trailer was supposed to be. But her trailer was gone. She was gone. Slade was gone. No trace of Marlon Slade or Margaret Blume has ever been discovered.

  “Some people say that Slade and Margaret fell madly in love that night, ran off together and changed their identities—and have been living together happily ever after. Personally, I think that’s nonsense. It’s much more likely that Slade went up to the trailer with the intention of raping Margaret—doing her the same way he’d done Tricia Talbot the night before. Perhaps she got the upper hand, killed him in self-defense, and then went into hiding. More likely, though, it went the other way around: Slade raped and murdered the beautiful teenaged guide. He somehow disposed of her body, and be went into hiding.”

  “I like it better the other way,” Darke whispered.

  “Me, too.”

  She squeezed Owen’s hand.

  “It’s one of those mysteries,” Lynn said, “that piques the imagination but has no answers. We’ll probably never know what became of Marlon Slade or the girl who called herself Margaret Blume. And we can only wonder how the movie might’ve been different if Slade bad directed it, if it bad starred Tricia Talbot.

  “As things turned out, however, The Horror launched the career of Ray Cunningham, who has gone on to become one of our major directors. It starred Melinda James in the role of Janice Crogan—originally intended to be played by Tricia Talbot. Melinda went on to reprise the role of Janice in four sequels, and has appeared in numerous other thrillers.”

  “Melinda rules!” called out Dennis.

  “Bodacious babe,” called out Arnold.

  “How about Pieces of Hate?”

  “How about Death Cruise, man?”

  “Cool.”

  “Way cool.”

  “You see her hangin’ upside-down?”

  “Oh, yeah. Awesome.”

  Lynn raised a hand for silence. “Arnold and Dennis are absolutely right. Melinda starred in Pieces of Hale, Death Cruise, and quite a few other films. And it was indeed awesome when they hung her upside down at the climax of Death Cruise.”

  A few people in the audience laughed.

  Darke even laughed.

  Dennis said, “Her shoulders disappeared, dude.”

  “Let’s just say they were temporarily obstructed from view,” said Lynn, grinning.

  “I do wish they’d get on with the film,” Bixby muttered.

  “As if anybody cares about any of this,” said Monica. “It’s all so incredibly lame and sophomoric.”

  Vein looked back and said, “Shut your faces, both of you.”

  “...original ‘Beast,”’ Lynn was saying, “and continued to play the beast through The Horror III: Resurrection”

  “Sligo forever!”

  “My man!”

  “Guys,” Lynn said. “Chill. Please.”

  “Cool,” said one.

  “Sorry,” said the other.

  “Gunther Sligo then went on to be stunt coordinator for several films. Recently, he has made a name for himself as the director of Expungement Night, which was a big hit this year at the Sundance Festival.

  “The Horror, as I’m sure you all know, was a box office smash. It not only launched several successful careers, but also an epidemic of sequels and prequels. Last time I checked, we were up to The Horror VII: The Ripper. Some have been fairly good, but there’ve been a couple of real clinkers. I’m sure you all have your favorites. For most people, though, the best of the bunch was the first. It’s generally considered to be a classic of the genre.

  “Tonight, you’ll have the very rare opportunity to experience The Horror on the big screen, completely uncut, in its original unrated version. This is a version that you won’t find at any other movie theater, and you’ll never see on television. If you rent or buy The Horror at a video store, you’ll be getting the one that’s rated R. It happens to be missing thirteen minutes—thirteen minutes that you’ll be seeing tonight.”

  Lynn glanced at her wristwatch. “We’re running a little late, so please save any questions for later. Now, let’s start the movie. Clyde?”

  The spotlight went out.

  Moments later, Lynn was gone from the stage as the movie screen went bright with color.

  Black letters on a scarlet background r
ead, MALCASA PICTURES PRESENTS

  Jungle drums began to pound.

  The black letters faded away, leaving the screen red and empty like a sea of blood.

  The drums kept booming.

  And a beast lumbered out from the left side of the screen. The instant it appeared, the small group of tourists scattered through the auditorium of The Haunted Palace erupted with applause and whistles and shouts.

  The beast stopped in the middle of the screen, turned toward the audience, and roared.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “LET’S BOOK!”

  Entering the auditorium just before the lights went out, Dana had asked Warren, “Where do you want to sit?”

  “Do you think there’s room for us?”

  Of about two hundred seats, only thirteen were occupied.

  “Maybe we’ll have to split up,” Dana had said.

  “I think there might be a couple of vacant seats over there.” Warren had pointed to the last row, where every seat was empty.

  “Well, if we can squeeze in.”

  “I’ll go first.”

  In the middle of the row, they’d eased down into the soft armchairs.

  “Is this too far back for you?” Warren had asked.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I like having the wall behind us.”

  “A lot safer that way,” Dana had agreed. “And we can make out.”

  As the lights faded to darkness, Warren had leaned toward Dana and slipped his arm around her back.

  He’d been fine during Tuck’s presentation, even laughing a few times, mostly at the antics of Dennis and Arnold. But when The Horror began, Dana could sense his tension. His back stiffened. His right hand, gently caressing her shoulder and upper arm, stopped moving. During the first beast attack, his thigh muscles flexed rigid under Dana’s hand and she heard his breath hissing in and out.

  She turned her head slightly to look at him. He was gazing at the screen, eyes wide, mouth open.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond.

  She shook his leg. “Warren?”

  As if dragged out of a trance, he looked at her. “Huh?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Sure. I guess so.”

  “You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?”