Final Girl

by Michelle Schusterman

  Oscar’s eyes widened. “You had a stalker? Like . . . Emily with Sam?”

  “I sure did,” Grandma said lightly. “I started receiving letters from him after Vampires of New Jersey came out. By the time I was filming Return to the Asylum, things had gotten out of hand. I knew something bad was coming—I could feel it. So when the kidnapping happened, well . . . it’s like Kat said. I was horrified, but not surprised.”

  “You were kidnapped?” I blurted out. Grandma had mentioned her stalker before, but I’d never gotten any details out of her.

  “Not me. My stunt double. Sandra.”

  She sat quietly for a few seconds, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. I waited, hoping she’d continue. Mi Jin and Oscar were watching her, too. I was pretty sure all three of us were holding our breaths.

  Finally, Grandma spoke. “Sandra started working for me during Cannibal Clown Circus. I played an acrobat . . . it was the first role I ever had where I needed a stunt double. Up close, we didn’t look terribly similar. But we were around the same height and weight, and with a little hair dye, from a distance . . .” She trailed off, her eyes distant. “Well. It was easy to confuse us.”

  I sat perfectly still, watching her. I couldn’t believe Grandma had never told me this story before.

  “Well, one day we were at the studio till well after midnight,” she went on softly. “I was on edge—this was after five weeks of filming Return to the Asylum, and on top of that the letters from my stalker had gotten more frequent, and more disturbing. Sandra and I usually left the studio together, with my bodyguard. This was the second movie we had worked on together, and we were close. Spent all our time together. But our friendship was . . . well . . . it was intense. We loved each other, but we fought over the most ridiculous things. We had had another squabble that day, I can’t even remember over what. When we finished filming, I went and sulked in my dressing room until she left.”

  Her mouth tightened, and a feeling of foreboding washed over me. Oscar had paled slightly, and he gazed at Grandma without blinking.

  “He was lurking outside the studio, waiting for me.” Grandma sighed. “He saw me without my bodyguard—or at least, he thought he did—and seized the opportunity. Sandra never saw him coming. He snuck up behind her, dragged her into his car, drove off . . . by the time he realized his mistake, they were far from the studio. None of us even realized she was missing until the next morning when she didn’t show up to work.”

  “Did you . . . did they find her?” Mi Jin asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer, and I could tell from his expression that Oscar felt the same.

  Grandma blinked, her eyes coming into focus. “Yes! Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply . . .” She waved her hand. “The police tracked them down in a few days, holed up in a little apartment about an hour from the studio. Sandra was unharmed . . . well, physically. But she was traumatized. Had no more interest in being my body double, for obvious reasons.” Grandma paused. “Our relationship was never the same after that. I blamed myself for what happened to her. Still do.”

  I glanced at Oscar. “It wasn’t your fault, obviously. It was the stalker.”

  “Well, of course I know that, sweetie,” Grandma said with a smile, bumping my shoulder with hers. “But I couldn’t help playing the what if game. What if I hadn’t sulked in my dressing room and let her leave the studio alone? What if I hadn’t fought with her that day at all? What if I’d gone to the police sooner with those letters, instead of convincing myself for so long that my stalker was just a particularly enthusiastic ‘fan’?” She spread out her hands. “Sandra never would have gone through such a dreadful ordeal.”

  At some point, Mi Jin had pulled out a notebook, and she was scribbling furiously. Grandma arched her eyebrows. “Taking notes, dear?”

  Mi Jin looked up, blushing. “Oh! No, not about Sandra. Just, like . . .” She gestured at the screenplay in Grandma’s lap. “Between your story and all that stuff Kat said, I have some revision ideas, and I wanted to get them down before I forget.”

  “Wonderful!” Grandma handed her the script. “Why don’t I hold off on reading this until you’ve revised? We’ll consider it an official submission for Final Girl Productions.”

  I couldn’t help snickering at the way Mi Jin’s eyes bulged. “What. Seriously. Um. Yes?”

  “Excellent.” The elevator doors opened, and Roland and Jess appeared, loaded down with bags and equipment. Grandma stood, smoothing down her blouse. “Looks like we’re about ready to head out!”

  I stood, too, picking up my backpack and waiting until Grandma and Mi Jin were busy helping the rest of the crew. Oscar was still in the armchair, staring blankly at the sofa. I gently nudged his leg with my foot. “You okay?”

  He jumped slightly and looked up at me. “What? Yeah. Fine.”

  “Guess you’re not the only one who plays the what if game,” I said, keeping my voice as casual as possible. Oscar tried to look annoyed and failed.

  “Yeah,” he said, shouldering his backpack. “I guess not.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  KNOCK, KNOCK

  P2P WIKI

  Entry: “Portal”

  [Last edited by AntiSimon]

  In paranormal studies, the term portal generally means a doorway between our physical world and the spirit world. Portals can theoretically allow spirits to enter our world, and humans to enter the spirit world. In season 1, episode 13, of Passport to Paranormal, the crew visited Blacksmith Bar in New Orleans, which the owners claimed was the site of a portal haunting, letting in restless, occasionally angry spirits. Sam Sumners attempted to close the portal, with inconclusive results.

  RYANG Psychiatric Hospital was eerie in an entirely different way from any other location I’d explored with Passport to Paranormal. Crimptown and the catacombs had been dark and cramped and deep underground. Daems Penitentiary was a classic horror movie setting—an enormous, concrete structure in the middle of nowhere. The waterfall in Salvador was beautiful, but exploring the woods in the dead of night gave you the feeling that someone was always watching, hidden in the dark just out of sight. And the fog swirling around the Yongheng Bridge, not to mention the sheer drops into a black abyss, made it an undeniably spooky setting.

  In contrast, fluorescent lights blazed in the hallways of the hospital. No spiderwebs or decades’ worth of grime; every room was scrubbed clean and smelled like bleach. The beds were neatly made, and the shelves were still stocked with medical equipment. I knew the Talchul Films crew had kept it this way on purpose, but the overall impression was that the entire staff and all the patients had vanished into thin air just moments ago. The deserted yet clinical atmosphere made me picture some evil doctor lurking in one of the empty rooms, scalpel in hand, waiting for his next “patient.”

  It might have been my imagination, but everyone seemed to be keeping a closer eye on me than usual. When I lingered behind in the doctors’ lounge for a few seconds to see if the TV worked (it didn’t), I found Roland just outside the door tying his shoe. When I stepped inside the pantry in the kitchen, Lidia followed me even though she’d already checked it out a few minutes earlier. By the time we got up to the second floor, I was pretty irritated and half considering hiding out in a room by myself for a minute or two, just to get some privacy. But that would be breaking Dad’s number one rule for these investigations, and I didn’t need to give him any more reasons to quit the show.

  Although at the moment, he didn’t look like a man who was unhappy with his job. Pretty much the exact opposite. After four months and five episodes, he’d developed an easy rapport with Roland and Sam on camera. And he and Grandma were the perfect cohosts—no surprise, at least not to me. I’d watched countless horror movies with the two of them, and their commentary and arguments with each other over plot twists and special effects were always hilarious.

&nbs
p; I tried to imagine him having this much fun on Live with Wendy and . . . there was just no way. Dad loved this job. He really, really loved it. I couldn’t let him quit because of me.

  No, not because of me. Because of the Thing.

  “Now this brings back memories,” Grandma announced when we entered the director’s office. She immediately walked over to the desk and sat behind it, clasping her hands and surveying the rest of us imperiously. “About half the scenes I filmed in The Asylum took place in the Warden’s office. Camera placement was tricky, because there was a full-length mirror on the back of the door . . . Oh, well look at that!”

  Lidia had just closed the door, and we all turned to see a mirror perfectly reflecting Grandma seated behind the desk. Mi Jin stepped behind Grandma, carefully holding the camera just over her head. Jess backed into a corner, slowly panning over the rest of our faces.

  “I gotta say, Edie,” Roland said, “I never really got the ending to that movie.”

  Dad and I exchanged a grin as Grandma sighed.

  “You and most critics,” she said dryly. “Fortunately, there are horror fans out there who can handle a little complexity in their films. Sam, darling, I think you’d love it.”

  Oscar snickered, but Roland looked unfazed. “Enlighten me, then. Was the—”

  A soft thump-thump cut him off, and we all stared at the door. I did a quick head count; we hadn’t left anyone in the hall. The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. Dad, who was closest to the door, put his hand on the knob and glanced at Jess. She took a few steps closer, her camera trained on him, and nodded. Dad turned the knob and stepped back, allowing the door to drift open.

  No one was there.

  We all let out a collective breath. “Everyone heard that, right?” Lidia asked softly, and everyone nodded. Sam stepped outside with her, glancing up and down the corridor and frowning. Jess and Roland joined them, and their footsteps faded after a few seconds.

  Dad closed the door quietly behind them, then stepped back and waited. Oscar and I stayed silent. We knew the drill; at the first sign of possible paranormal activity, we had to give the ghost enough time to try to communicate again. Mi Jin’s camera was still rolling, aimed at the door from her spot behind Grandma.

  After nearly two full minutes of dead silence, Dad sighed. “Shall we go see if the others have had any luck?” he asked. Grandma stood, and Mi Jin and Oscar headed for the door. But I stayed in my spot next to the desk, my feet frozen in place.

  The Thing was in the mirror. Standing next to the desk, just like me.

  Instead of me. Instead of my reflection.

  We stared at each other. It smiled. I didn’t.

  “Kat?” Dad asked, and everyone turned to look at me. “You okay?”

  I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. If they looked in the mirror, would they see it? Or would they see me?

  But before I could speak, a distant scream sounded from the floor above us.

  Mi Jin flew across the room and threw the door open, then took off down the hall, camera still on her shoulder. Grandma and Oscar were right behind her, but Dad waited for me.

  “What is it?” he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  I forced a smile. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  We hurried down the hall and up the stairs to the third floor. Just as we reached the top, there was a loud crash, followed by lots of shouting and yelling. My heart was pounding out of control as we sprinted down the hall to the source of the noise. Was it the poltergeist? Or had the Thing actually attacked someone?

  Dad and I had just reached room 313 when Lidia came out, holding someone by the elbow. A girl with long, dark hair, shaking and stammering. For a split second, I went completely numb. Then I recognized her as one of the Talchul Films crew members, the one who looked around Mi Jin’s age.

  A few doors down, Roland pulled another Talchul person from a room, closely followed by Jess, who was still filming.

  “Is Jae-Hwa here?” Lidia asked them calmly. “Does he know you’re doing this?”

  The girl swallowed and shook her head. The guy Roland had found didn’t look nearly as freaked out, but his expression was contrite.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept saying, nervously glancing at the cameras. The rest of the crew had gathered around them in the hall. “Jae-Hwa doesn’t know, I promise. We just . . . we thought it would be a more interesting episode, if . . .”

  “If you pretended to be the poltergeist,” Lidia finished. She didn’t sound angry at all, but I could tell by the way her lips were pursed that she was upset. Oscar and I glanced at each other worriedly. “Look, I know you guys need publicity for your movie. But now . . . I don’t know if we can use any of the footage we’ve taken.”

  Wincing, the guy murmured another apology. Tears streamed silently down the girl’s face. But she wasn’t looking at Lidia. Instead, she kept glancing toward room 313.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Grandma said comfortingly. “Yumi, wasn’t it? We’ve still got the rest of the night to film, dear. Don’t fret.” Yumi swallowed and nodded, her eyes still fixed on the door. Dad glanced at it, then back at her.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  After a few seconds, Yumi let out a shaky breath. “I saw . . . something.”

  Silence fell. I saw Roland and Jess exchange a skeptical look, and I couldn’t help feeling the same way. After all, these two had just tried to fake us out with soft knocks and screams. But Yumi did seem genuinely upset.

  Grandma put a comforting arm around her, and Mi Jin moved closer. “What did you see?”

  “A light,” Yumi whispered. “In the corner of the room. And something . . . moving.”

  Dad pushed open the door and glanced inside. “Room 313 . . . this is the room with the portal sightings, right?” He turned to Lidia. “We were planning on spending some time in here, anyway,” he told her. “Maybe we can get started while you give Jae-Hwa a call?”

  Lidia nodded, gesturing for Yumi and the other guy to follow her. The rest of the crew traipsed inside room 313. Oscar and I lingered behind in the hallway for a moment.

  “Do you think she was lying?” I whispered, glancing at Yumi as she disappeared into the stairwell.

  Oscar shrugged. “Dunno. She sure looked freaked out. But she could just be a really good actor.” He paused. “Speaking of . . . what happened downstairs? Right before we heard that scream?”

  Avoiding his gaze, I pulled the Elapse out of my pocket and hung it around my neck. I should’ve told them downstairs, pointed to the Thing in the mirror so everyone could’ve seen. But it was too late now. I wasn’t even sure Oscar would believe me. “Oh, nothing.”

  “Yeah, you know who isn’t a good actor?” Oscar said. “You. Come on, Kat. What did you—”

  “Kat? Oscar?” Dad called, and I hurried inside room 313 before Oscar could finish the question.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

  In: DRAFTS

  From: acciopancakes@mymail.net

  To: monicam@mymail.net

  Subject: I’m coming home

  Dear Mother,

  I’m so sorry for everything. Now I’m ready to be the daughter you’ve always wanted. The old Kat will be gone soon, and then you and I can be together forever.

  Love,

  Kat

  “SO.” Roland leaned against the wall next to Sam, hands in his pockets. “Do we air all of that nonsense, or not?”

  Jess set her camera down on the bed and sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s the season finale, and what do we have—a few kids sneaking around, knocking on doors and running away?”

  “Well, like Edie said, we’ve got the rest of the night to film.” Dad frowned thoughtfully. “And to be honest, I think maybe that could be a great way to start t
he episode. Outing the fake stuff right away, even before the first commercial break. It might give us more credibility with the more skeptical fans, you know?”

  “Good point.” Jess made a face. “Although I have to admit, this makes me wonder how much of what they told us yesterday is actually true. All the stories about the poltergeist, the portal . . .”

  Sam ran his fingers over the wallpaper, moving to the far left corner. “This room does have a different energy than the others,” he mused. “Seems chillier, too.”

  Roland rummaged around in his bag and pulled out his thermal camera attachment, which he slid onto his phone. Mi Jin moved over to stand just behind him as he turned it on, angling her camera to see the screen on his phone. I stepped back so I could see, too. Sam’s outline glowed yellow and green against a background of various blues and purples. Roland moved closer to the corner Sam had been inspecting, Mi Jin right on his heels.

  “Huh,” he murmured, kneeling on the floor. “That’s interesting.”

  The rest of us gathered behind him to see. The corner itself looked totally normal: light blue-green wallpaper, bright white tiled floor. But the thermal image showed something . . . else. A brief, yellowish something that vanished when Roland shifted the camera’s position, then reappeared when he shifted it back. He stood slowly, scanning the corner from the floor up to the ceiling. The yellowish aura slipped in and out of view, like a fog seeping in where the two walls met.

  “Perhaps Yumi really did see something here,” Grandma said at last, breaking the silence. “She said there was a light moving in the corner, right?”

  “Yeah.” Roland lowered his phone and gestured at the walls. “But I’m not seeing anything unusual without the thermal camera. You?” The last question was directed at Sam, who was already tracing his fingers across the wallpaper. He stared and stared, brow furrowed, like the wall was a foggy window and he was trying to see what was on the other side.