Cinema of Shadows

by Michael West

  Tyler nearly laughed at that, but he didn’t. Instead, he wiped his hand down his face and said, “Before Martinez died on my table, I’d never experienced anything that I didn’t understand, at least nothing that I couldn’t find the answer to.”

  “You find a medical explanation for what just happened in there and I’ll eat every last bolt on this truck.” Robby turned the key in the ignition. “‘Keep the bitch away from my theater.’ What bitch are we talking about? Can’t be the stripper.”

  Tyler shook his head.

  “And what the hell is a ‘coffin birth?’”

  “It’s a ...” Tyler swallowed; stared out the window as the neon lady on the wall of the club shrank and was quickly left behind. “When a pregnant woman dies, gasses build up in the body during decomposition. Sometimes they ... they force the fetus out through the birth canal.”

  “Thanks for that lovely visual. Maybe the stripper was pregnant with a girl. Maybe that’s the bitch that it ...” He reconsidered, his voice oozing frustration. “It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. That’s what I hate about cryptic messages; they’re too damn cryptic. Why can’t spooks just come out and tell us what they want or don’t want? Is there some fuckin’ law against it?”

  “You actually believe that an evil spirit attacked your friend and my patient.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Even if I did, Billy and that stripper were nowhere near the theater. Perry said Billy was killed by Mendez, and we saw the guy who slit the stripper’s throat. What do they have to do with anything? Where’s the common denominator?”

  “You’re the common denominator, Doc. The M.E. was working on the dead Mexican, your patient, and you were trying to save the stripper’s life.”

  “So ... what? The theater ghost sent me long distance messages through dead bodies?”

  “That’s the best possible scenario.”

  Tyler chuckled humorlessly. “And what’s the worst possible scenario?”

  “The demon isn’t trapped in the Woodfield. It can get out whenever it wants, go anywhere, do anything.”

  They drove on for a bit without saying a word, but Tyler’s mind was far from silent. He sat there, watching the storefronts slide by his window, debating. Three people were dead, there was no denying that. But this idea ... this notion that some vacant movie house could have played a part in any way, that it wasn’t really vacant at all ... it was fantastic. Impossible. And yet ...

  “Just for the sake of argument,” Tyler began, “let’s say there is some supernatural force out there ... what do you expect me to do about it?”

  Robby didn’t take his eyes off the road. “I think you and I need to pay a visit to the old Woodfield.”

  Tyler sat up so fast that his seatbelt grew taut across his chest. “And do what?”

  “For starters, some kind of exorcism.”

  “I was being serious.”

  “So was I, Doc. So was I.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it? Three people are gone. Who knows how many more we’ll see die if we sit around and do nothing.”

  “Nothing is exactly what we should do. They’re getting ready to demolish the thing, right? Once it’s gone —”

  “That won’t do shit. I’ve read about people who tore their own houses down to get rid of spirits, but when they rebuilt a new home on the same spot, the ghosts were still there. And if this fucker can leave the Woodfield whenever it feels like it ... we’re all fucked.”

  “Even if I agreed with you, what makes you think you’re even remotely qualified to perform an exorcism? What, you saw the movie when you were a kid? Read the book fifty times?”

  “I’ve studied up over the years, read books, real books, not made-up stories, some historical texts. I’ve even had more than a few conversations with the parish priest. He’s a real talker once you get a few drinks in him. The Catholic Church just updated the ritual in 1999. Before that, they were using a rite that had been around since the 1600s. We’ll need some holy water, a Bible, obviously, and a crucifix or a religious medal of some kind. I’ve got the script for the rite at home. We can —” Robby must have seen the dazed expression of disbelief on Tyler’s face. He took his eyes from the road and said, “Look, I can’t sit around with my thumb up my ass. I’m gonna do this with or without you, Doc. All I need to know is are you in, or are you out?”

  Tyler thought for a moment. He’d never even seen the Woodfield Movie Palace, but the very thought of it now gave him chills. Still, his rational mind would not take that next step. Making plans to purge evil spirits, contemplating the use of holy water, Bible verses, or what-have-you as weapons ... it was just so outlandish, so medieval. Even to go along for the ride, to watch as Robby, this man he’d only just met today, indulged in that kind of insanity ... it was all too much.

  Tyler shook his head and turned away, staring at his own reflection in the window. “You can count me out.”

  The paramedic looked as if he might say something else, one final burst of persuasion, perhaps a new, more compelling argument. Instead, his eyes returned to the road and he slouched in his seat.

  Loud music filled the cab, the theme to the television show Scrubs.

  Robby almost lost control of the wheel. He reached up and frantically pressed buttons on the dashboard as if the Ford’s radio had taken on a life of its own. “Jesus! What the fuck?”

  “It’s my ring tone,” Tyler told him. He unclipped the cell phone from his belt and glanced at its lit screen. Kim’s smiling face stared back at him. He answered quickly. “Kim?”

  “Not calling too late, am I?”

  “No, no, you’re fine.” He was relieved. It was so good to hear her voice, good to forget everything else, if only for a moment.

  “Good. Hey ... did you still want to get together tomorrow ... oops, tonight?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. Truth be told, he wanted to see her right now, to hold her in his arms and tell her everything. If anyone would understand what had happened, the turmoil he now felt, he knew it would be her. “Um ... You want to go to dinner and a movie, or —”

  “I’ve actually got a theory I was going to test out,” she told him. “It’s kind of a project, and if you’re up for it, I’d really like your help.”

  23

  Kim reached out and slowly pushed the door open.

  She looked around the bedroom; the tossed math book, still open on the floor, the mattress at an angle, hanging off the box springs, the sparkling frost of broken mirror glass. Everything as it was when they ran from it a few nights before. She spun her flashlight around and saw rusty streaks marring the white-painted doorframe.

  Kevin’s blood.

  “Kim ... you’re hurting me.”

  She glanced down. Her hand was wrapped around Tyler’s, her knuckles white, his fingers beet red. She quickly released her grip and wiped her sweaty palm down the length of her stonewashed jeans. “Sorry.”

  Tyler flexed his fingers. She felt a change in him tonight. He seemed a bit down, preoccupied, perhaps something at the hospital that refused to leave his mind. He had his own look around and asked, “Who lives here now?”

  “Nobody at the moment,” Kim told him. “A girl leased it for the semester, but she’s scared out of her mind. She hasn’t been back in weeks.”

  “Can we turn on a light?”

  “Sorry. It’s best to run dark for this stuff.”

  He smiled at her. “What if a neighbor sees flashlights through the windows and calls the cops?”

  “We have the key, and written permission to be here so we could do our investigation.”

  “So ... this is part of that group project for your ghost class?”

  “This isn’t for Burke, tonight,” she told him. “It’s for me.”

  “Just tell me what you need.”

  Kim scanned the floor, paused, then bent over and grabbed one end of the mattress. She tugged, grunted, and said, “You can help me with this.” />
  Together, they pushed it back up onto the frame. It was made of memory foam and weighed a ton.

  She stood, breathing heavily, and stared at the empty bed as if it were a coffin.

  “You okay?” Tyler wondered aloud.

  She nodded anxiously, then looked around the room again, trying to keep her eyes off the pillow. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  “So ... what happens now?”

  “Now, I lay on it,” she told him, and before her fear could fully kick in, she handed him the flashlight, crawled across the wrinkled blankets, and sat down. “I just want you to watch me, see if anything happens.”

  “Okay.” He paused for a time, and then his distant eyes grew puzzled. “Like what?”

  Kim didn’t know what to tell him. She had her suspicions, but she wasn’t sure what would happen, not really. “Just look for anything strange.”

  He gave a hesitant nod.

  She closed her eyes; lowered her head onto the pillow. The room was quiet but for the sound of her own respiration. Unnaturally quiet. She reached across her chest for the crucifix, stroked the metal.

  “Tyler?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  No answer.

  She almost opened her eyes to look at him, but then she heard his voice again. It was softer now, almost a whisper.

  “What we talked about the other night, the time you saw that girl on the bridge?”

  Kim nodded, her eyes still closed, her fingers tight around her necklace.

  Tyler went on, his voice her lifeline in the dark, “Was that the first time you ever experienced something strange, something you couldn’t explain?”

  The darkness flickered with a comforting memory. It was very personal; something Kim often thought of, yet had never told anyone, not even Tashima. “I used to have conversations with my grandmother,” she told him.

  “Your dead grandmother?”

  Kim nodded. “Growing up, there was this rocking chair in the corner of my bedroom. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and see this older lady sitting there, just staring at me and rocking. Of course, it freaked me out at first, but then I recognized her from the pictures Mom had all over the house. She’d tell me things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  The way he posed the question ... it was as if he needed to know.

  Kim shrugged. “Pep talks, mostly. She’d tell me I’d do well on this test or that report, tell me about what my mother did when she was my age, stuff like that, stuff grandmas do, I guess.

  “I’ve never known a real grandmother. My mother’s mother, the one in the rocking chair, died way before I was born, and cancer took my father’s mother when I was only two.”

  She frowned, then went on, “Anyway, this went on for years, just a re-occurring dream.”

  “When did it stop?”

  “After the bridge.” She felt a tingle in her hands; felt it move up her arms, rapidly gaining ground until it rested on her shoulders. “I really wanted to see Grandma then. Every night, I’d pray I’d see her, pray she’d tell me everything was going to be all right again, but she didn’t come. Instead ...” Kim swallowed. “Instead, I just dreamed about that dead little girl.”

  “I saw something last night,” he confided. “Something that scared the shit out of me.”

  Another patch of silence.

  “Tyler?”

  And then the warmth of his hand was on her arm, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he told her.

  Her lips curled into a grin, but the kiss of a chill quickly chased it away. It felt as if someone had just opened a freezer door right next to her. She shuddered, and from the darkness came a new voice. It was meek, quivering.

  Anna’s voice.

  “Please,” it said, “Take me with you.”

  Her eyes now open again, Kim lifted her head off the pillow.

  The little girl sat on the end of the bed.

  Frail, emaciated arms tightly hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was small, gaunt, almost mummified in its appearance, and her eyes were enormous, huge black pupils rimmed in florescent yellow. A lemur’s eyes, glowing brightly in the darkness.

  The girl wore a frilly nightgown. It was torn, shredded, and at first glance, it looked black. Kim realized that it was actually covered in blood. And though Anna had been dead for more than a decade, the fluid glistened in the darkness as if it had been freshly spilled.

  “Take me away,” said the bloody girl with the blazing yellow eyes. “Don’t leave me here with the monster.”

  Kim gasped.

  “Do you see her?” she asked of Tyler.

  “See who?” He shone the flashlight toward the end of the bed, and its uninterrupted beam struck the wall on the far side of the room.

  Kim continued to look at the little girl that remained at her feet. “Anna.”

  “Please,” the spirit repeated, over and over again, “Please.”

  Kim held the crucifix tightly in her left hand and reached out with her right. Her fingers stalled, retreated into a fist, then slowly uncurled and moved forward again. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice trembling, “I’ll help you.”

  Her hand began to glimmer with bluish-white, spectral light, glowing brighter as it approached the little girl, and when Kim touched the bloody nightgown, there was a spark.

  “Christ,” Tyler muttered beside her.

  He’d seen that.

  Anna turned, reached up for Kim’s hand, and held on tight. Hers was not the slimy grip of the apparition from Edna Collings Bridge. It was warm, alive. It felt wonderful. It felt right.

  The flashlight went suddenly dark, its batteries drained, yet the room remained bathed in light. There seemed to be light everywhere.

  Kim dared to look away, venturing a glance at Tyler. He remained at her side, staring, his eyes wide. She wondered if he now saw the child as she did, or if his vision was different. She supposed it didn’t matter. At least he saw something. It wasn’t just a product of her own mind.

  She rose up, climbed from the bed, and Anna came with her. When they stood, they were engulfed in a strobing, flickering aura, a column of blue-white flame that moved as they moved.

  A beautiful smile bloomed on the little girl’s lips. Her eyes seemed to shrink, the yellow glow dulling and darkening, changing to a soothing green. Her desiccated face was now fuller, more human, more alive. She looked happy, at peace.

  “We’re going to walk out of here,” Kim told her.

  Anna nodded, pleased by the prospect.

  Tyler stood as well, holding the flashlight as if it still worked, as if it were producing the wavering glow that now lit their way. He followed them toward the open door, and then everything stopped.

  A strong wind blew in from the hallway, buffeting them, pushing Kim back a step. She blinked and lowered her head; her dark hair flew in the breeze.

  “The monster,” Anna cried, and her tiny hands clamped around Kim’s wrist like a vise.

  Kim forced her eyes up, stared down the hall.

  Shadows shifted; condensed into a shape, an outline. The figure came forward, darker than the surrounding blackness. It was hunched over; a walking scarecrow. Loose clothing hung from arms and legs that were impossibly thin, and its movements were jerky, like a marionette being pulled by invisible wires, being driven forward by sheer will.

  When it spoke, its voice was deep, hollow, and filled with rage, “Go away!”

  Is this one of the demons Burke warned us about? Kim wondered.

  The shadow stalked into the light.

  Long white hair floated on air, waved and twisted, as if this thing were rising from the depths of a midnight pool. It had no eyes; only black pits, two caves in a rancid, festering skull. And its teeth —

  Fangs! It’s got fangs!

  — seemed to grow even longer as it drew near.

  “Leave us alone!” it bellowed.

  And th
en Kim saw the thing’s bony right hand blur out of the dark, saw the shimmering blade. Instinctively, she released her grip on the crucifix, threw her left arm up across her face to shield her eyes. The metal slashed her forearm and she winced against the sting.

  It’s real, her shocked mind screamed. The knife is real!

  She staggered back. Threads of hot blood ran down her arm, forming scarlet tears that hung from her elbow.

  Tyler stared at her, fear and amazement dancing in his eyes. He grabbed her by the wrist and tried to get a look at the wound. “Jesus, Kim, what ...?”

  The thing in the hall lashed out with its left hand, pushed him back against the nightstand.

  “Tyler!” Kim whirled around, tried to go to him, but Anna yanked hard on her arm and pulled her back.

  “Don’t leave me!” the little girl begged. “Don’t let the monster hurt me again!”

  The door slammed shut, locking the dark spirit out.

  Kim’s eyes flew to Anna. “Did you do that?”

  She nodded frantically. “He says he loves you, but he doesn’t. It just wants to hurt!”

  Kim knelt down, her voice suddenly maternal, “I’m not gonna leave you, and I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

  Anna threw her arms around Kim’s neck and the blue flames that surrounded them glowed brighter.

  Power flooded Kim’s entire being, making her bones hum. Her scalp tingled with static, every hair leaping to attention. And then she stood, holding Anna against her breasts. The child felt so life-like. She glanced past Anna’s head, and through a wavy veil of cold fire, she saw that Tyler was back on his feet. He was going to be fine. She gave a sigh of relief and said, “We’re going to walk right past it. We’re going to walk down the stairs and right out the front door.”

  “No!” the little girl screamed into Kim’s neck, her head shaking rapidly. “He’ll hurt us!”

  “No, he won’t.” Kim took a step toward the door. “Close your eyes, honey. Close ’em tight.”

  Anna did as she was told, but Kim kept her eyes wide open. She turned the knob and the hallway beyond was instantly flooded in spectral radiance. The fanged scarecrow was still there, a cobra ready to strike, but it turned away from the light and took a step back.