by Michael West
“What the hell are you on about? I’m not moving from this spot ’til I know wha —”
The mirrors ... good Lord, look at the mirrors!
Mirrored tiles lined the walls above the stairs, reflecting the entire lobby, the chandeliers and nesting birds, the concession stand, the cobwebs and dirt, even the professor’s own shocked features. The one thing they did not show was the old man who stood right in front of them. He cast no reflection at all.
Burke was flooded with a sudden uncertainty that set the skin on his arms and scalp to tingle. In all the years he’d been an investigator, he’d never seen anything like it. It wasn’t possible. This was a man. Couldn’t be anything else. Couldn’t be.
“Why do you want me to go upstairs?” Burke shouted. “What’s up there?”
Vern turned to look at him, his face changing; becoming dry, brittle. The ashen skin cracking, every wrinkle splitting, tearing. Every rip oozing a diseased, yellow pus that ran down the polyester suit and covered the brown shoes. His eyeglasses slipped from their perch and landed on the steps, then his entire face came loose, slid, and landed with a wet slap, leaving behind a fanged skull.
“Your answers,” the skull told him. The voice was deep and choked by fluid.
Burke shook his head. He stumbled backward. Halfway across the lobby, he tripped. Perhaps his shoe became caught on a frayed carpet seam, or he might have tripped over his own foot. He fell back, his arms flailing.
And there was someone or something behind him to stop his fall.
28
When her VW Bug drove across the Harmony town line, Kim Saunders felt a pleasant quiver of excitement in her belly. The twilight sky was a huge bruise, deep blue softly fading into purple and black. She turned the steering wheel, and her bright headlamps swept through the large trees that lined the road, white blossoms and green blankets of leaves now covering their recently naked branches.
Two deer stood on an elementary school’s lawn, a big doe and her young fawn. At first, their heads were down, grazing; then the sound of the Volkswagen’s engine reached their ears. The doe leapt off across the grass, her little fawn at her hooves, and the trees swallowed both of them whole.
A half mile later, the last streetlight became a firefly in Kim’s rearview mirror, and the night rushed in.
Kim didn’t take this road as slowly as she had a few days before. On that afternoon, when they paid their first visit to the Woodfield, an icy dread sat firmly coiled around her spine, and she fought against an almost instinctual urge to do a U-turn, to flee back to her dorm room, perhaps bury herself beneath the blankets and never emerge. But like the winter snows, that old apprehension had now melted away entirely, and in its place, an odd sense of empowerment had rapidly come to bloom. For the first time in recent memory, she felt as if she could take on the world, and that realization brought a grin to her rosy lips.
“We’re almost there,” Kim said with enthusiasm.
Tashima sat in the passenger seat, flicking the striker dial on her silver lighter, sparking a blue flame, then closing the metal lid to snuff it. She did this again and again. She ran a hand through her beaded locks, tucking a few errant braids behind her ear. Her tone was less passionate, “Cool.”
On a typical Friday evening, Tashima would have glammed up for a party somewhere on campus, but tonight it was just Burke and the boys, so she hadn’t bothered. She wore a pair of old, painted-on jeans with frayed holes at the knees, and her chest displayed Ben Franklin’s portrait, the same one that graced the hundred-dollar bill. This version, however, had a bandanna hiding the lower half of Ben’s face.
“GOT MONEY?” the caption asked.
She kept glancing over at Kim’s bandaged arm. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.”
Tashima gave her a look of mild disbelief.
Kim laughed. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just a few bad scratches. Don’t let it scare you.”
“If I came home in a cast, I know you’d —”
“It’s gauze, not a cast, and I told you what happened.”
Tashima said nothing. In fact, she was quiet for a long time. It wasn’t like her and it made Kim uncomfortable.
“You believe me, don’t you?”
Tashima nodded; lit another flame, smothered it and said, “Did I ever tell you about the night my Grandpa Edmonds died?”
Kim shook her head, glanced over, then returned her eyes to the road, anticipating the coming turn-off.
“He was Mom’s daddy,” Tashima told her, “and as long as anybody’d known him, he’d always been active in the community. Marched with Martin Luther King Jr. when he was a younger man. Got people out to vote for every election by goin’ door to door. Worked with the church in his spare time, fixin’ up houses and collectin’ food for people in need. But in the end, he couldn’t even get out of his own fuckin’ bed to take a piss.”
A new flame.
Snuffed.
“He’d just lay there, arms crossed over his chest, arthritis so bad that he couldn’t move his fingers at all, and his eyes were always closed, even when he was awake.”
Another new flame, but this time Tashima let it burn, thinking.
Kim asked, “Were you there when he died?”
“No. It happened when I was at school. But at the funeral, I heard Mom talk about what happened. She said he’d actually opened his eyes for a minute. He didn’t talk or anything, but his lips parted, kinda like a child seein’ the ocean for the first time, just in awe, y’know what I mean?”
Kim nodded and Tashima went on.
“Then he moved for the first time in months. He ... he reached up, like somebody was holdin’ out their hand and he wanted to take it. And then he was gone.”
Tashima closed the lid to her lighter.
“I wish I coulda seen that,” she went on to say, a mix of joy and regret in her voice. She paused a moment, considering, then declared, “Sometimes, I think people must get too scared to reach up, or maybe it’s not fear, maybe they’re just confused. They don’t understand what’s goin’ on. Either way, they miss their chance to take that hand, to be at peace, people like Anna, like Malcolm, like all those lights in the pictures I took for Burke the other day.”
She turned to Kim, her eyes bright in the darkness.
“And that’s why I wanna believe you. I wanna think these people get another shot at takin’ somebody’s hand, get another chance to find their way home.” Then she gave a disappointed little chuckle. “I just wish I coulda been there last night, wish I coulda seen it for myself.”
Kim reached over, took her friend’s hand. “Maybe tonight, you will.”
Tashima gave her fingers a slight squeeze, then smiled and pointed out the windshield. “There’s the road.”
“Shit.” Kim grabbed the wheel with both hands and hauled it to the right, guiding her Bug onto the crumbling stretch of pavement.
The road curved off into the woods, and as she followed it, her thoughts turned once more to the old cinema, wondering how many souls might be trapped within its walls, wondering what would happen if she met them tonight. Would it be like it was with Anna? Would they reach out and latch onto her hands? Follow her out and just disappear into thin air? Or would they climb into her car? Let her ferry them back down this same winding road, chauffer them off toward the horizon, toward the place where the heavens met the earth? As this side street curled its way through the trees, her headlights parting the darkness like shadowy veils, like curtains rising before the final act of a play, all things seemed possible.
She gazed up at her mirror, staring into her own eyes. Normally, they carried the dark, puffy baggage of lost sleep. Not today. Last night, in Tyler’s arms, the nightmare never came. And even now, as she allowed herself to consider the vision that had plagued her for so long, she felt none of its terror. In fact, the very thought of that drowned little girl moved her instead to sadness and pity.
Kim drove on, surrounded by ligh
t, darkness, and the shadows that moved between them. She rounded the next bend, and the Woodfield loomed large in her path, a brightly lit marquee bathing the surrounding woods in its milky glow. The excited flutters in her stomach grew more intense as the building drew near, becoming a rolling sensation that bordered on nausea. She swallowed. She was not going to be sick again. No. Tonight, she was in control.
Two cars were already parked in the lot, Burke’s and Harvey’s. Kim rolled to a stop halfway between them. She killed the engine, watching the main entrance with intent.
“Wow.” Tashima leaned forward in her seat. “It doesn’t look so spooky at night all lit up like that.”
“Come on.” Kim opened the door and got out.
Tashima joined her and they walked across the pavement together.
“Joss isn’t here yet,” Kim remarked, glancing around.
“Just stop.”
Kim smirked at her. “What?”
“Stop tryin’ to fix me up. You go off and fall in love, and now you want me to be just as happy as you are. Well, I can —”
“Who says I’m in love?”
“Girl, please, it’s written all over your face.”
Kim’s smile widened, welcoming Tyler back into her mind. He’d actually told her that he loved her. As much as that thrilled her, she couldn’t help being a bit frightened as well. They’d known one another for such a short time, and they were still young ... how could they know their feelings? And yet, the more Kim sought to question her own emotions, the more convinced she became. Even now, the memory of Tyler — being carried by him, waking in his arms, the smell of him and the sound of his voice — filled her with so much warmth. He was a good man. She liked the way he treated her. And she needed him. There was no denying it. Whether what they had together was destined for days, months, or a lifetime, Kim had no idea, but she knew they were here for each other now, and she would enjoy it for however long it might last.
Kim shuddered, feeling a sudden, intense chill, a shadow passing over her soul. There were eyes upon her, scrutinizing her approach. She stopped; glanced up at the cinema’s windows, boarded and broken, and found only gloom.
There’s something there ... hiding in the dark.
She had an abrupt mental flash, Halloween night, the bridge, but it was not of the dead little girl, nor was it of Carter Donovan, not even the bat that cracked his windshield. No. None of the normal nightmare tropes. It was of her costume, of her red cloak and basket. And then the notion of the Big Bad Wolf swiftly stalked to the forefront of her mind, salivating.
“You see somethin’?” Tashima asked, her eyes joining Kim’s on the second story windows.
Kim shook her head.
“But you know it’s there.”
Kim nodded.
“Nice.”
Kim’s eyes were still on the windows, probing the darkness. “You don’t have to go in with me.”
Tashima chuckled, unamused. “You’re not gonna leave me out here alone.”
Don’t think about it, Kim told herself. Just do it.
She lowered her gaze to the doors, resumed her trek, her pace now brisk.
Tashima hesitated a moment before hurrying to her side. “I need to get my fuckin’ head examined.”
They stepped up to the doors and swapped glances. Neither wanted to be the first across the threshold. Finally, Kim rolled her eyes and reached for the handle.
She stopped short.
A muffled voice drifted out of the Woodfield, demanding, “Where’s Harvey?”
“Tell me you hear that,” Kim murmured.
And Tashima whispered back, “Uh ... yeah,”
The voice inside shouted, “Why do you want me to go upstairs?”
It was Burke.
Kim opened the door in time to see her professor lurch back, his head wagging. In the middle of the floor, his feet tangled up. He stumbled, and she reached out to keep him from falling onto the checkered marble.
“Are you okay, Professor?” she asked.
Burke turned to look at her, and his eyes were wild, panicked. “Miss Saunders, it’s —” He threw a glance back across the lobby, focusing on the empty staircase to the balcony level, and his alarm turned instantly to confusion. He stood, red-faced, and tucked in his shirt. “Fine. I’m fine.”
Tashima scanned the vacant room. “Who were you yellin’ at?”
“Are the others with you?” he wanted to know. “The equipment?”
“No,” Kim told him, looking at the steps. “You saw something. What was it?”
Before he could answer, Tashima screamed.
29
This night would only happen once, then it would be dead and gone, slain by the rising sun like a hundred nights before it. And yet, as Joss rolled onto the overgrown lot and saw Kim’s parked Volkswagen, he couldn’t resist optimism. He wasn’t kidding himself; knew this was no date. Tashima wouldn’t be here alone with him, she wouldn’t be here for him at all, but as he drove the university van up to the curb, stopping just short of Harvey’s beat-up old Ford, he smiled because they were spending this particular night together.
Joss stared at the front doors, at the boarded box office that sat between them, adorned in spray-painted boasts and profanity.
“The Cinema That Dripped Blood,” he said aloud, his voice a deep bellow straight from the 70’s exploitation trailers he so loved. “Four college students. Who knew what horrors awaited them within its satanic walls?”
In the seat next to him, Kevin laughed.
Joss sat up, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Wanna place any bets on if they’re gonna show tonight or not?”
“This isn’t Disneyland. Spirits don’t perform on cue.” Kevin climbed from the van. “But if they’re here, I hope they’re not as shy as they were the other day.”
“Shy?” Joss laughed and joined his friend at the cargo doors. “That’s cute. Shy.”
“But even if we don’t get any real evidence, just being here, working this with the professor, it’s gonna be sweet.”
“I just hope Burke realizes how difficult it’s gonna be.” Joss reached into the van with both hands, grabbed the digital camcorder case and the K-II meter, a toy he’d brought specifically for Tashima. “I mean, you saw for yourself, the place is huge, and there’s just five of us. I don’t know how he expects us to cover it all.”
Kevin slung the Olympus case over his shoulder, grabbed the audio recorder, and looked levelly at Joss. “Burke knows what he’s doing.”
Joss rolled his eyes and made his voice high-pitched, “Oh, Professor Burke, you’re my hero.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re the greatest man that ever —”
A shrill scream blared from within the Woodfield.
Joss and Kevin exchanged a quick, shocked glance, but for a moment, they stood their ground. Joss felt a brief yet zealous urge to get back behind the wheel and drive away. He shook it off and ran for the cinema doors instead, the camera case still slung over his shoulder, banging against his hip, and Kevin following close behind him.
Inside, they found Burke by the stairs. His eyes bulged with surprise or panic, staring at the forsaken concession stand. Then they saw Kim. She ran across the lobby. And when he saw she was running for Tashima, Joss ran too.
He placed his hand flat on Tashima’s back to comfort her, but she nearly leapt free of her skin. “Relax,” he said, “it’s just me.”
“He pulled my hair,” Tashima squealed, her eyes darting between his and Kim’s.
“Who?” Joss asked.
“What did you see?” Kim asked simultaneously.
“In the corner of my eye,” Tashima told them. “I saw him run up and then he ... he pulled my hair, and then he was gone.”
“Who?” Joss repeated, insistent.
“Harvey,” she shouted back.
Joss glanced around. The old man was nowhere to be seen. “Tashima, there’s no way that old dude could �
�”
“I don’t care. I’m tellin’ you, somebody pulled my hair.”
Joss looked around, trying to find another possible culprit. And then he looked up. A thick curtain of spider web dangled from the chandeliers, tethering them to the snack bar and the railing of the stairs. “Your hair just got caught in a big web.”
“Bullshit. I know what I —”
“Look.” He ran his hand over the top of her head, plucked the silken strands from between her beads, and held them up for her inspection. “Just web.”
She studied the evidence with skeptical eyes.
“Trust me,” he assured her. “You’re fine.”
Burke came over and put his hands on Tashima’s shoulders. “You don’t believe he’s right, do you? You saw the old man, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
There was a tone in the professor’s voice that Joss had never heard before. Burke always acted as if he were the smartest person in the room, in control of every situation, but that ... that was not the sound of a man in command. No. That was the anxious plea of a frightened little boy.
Joss grabbed the professor’s arm. “Calm down, man.”
Burke’s eyes shot to him, glaring, and then they found the equipment Joss had strapped on. The professor released Tashima and snatched the digital camcorder off his shoulder, unzipping the case in jerky, violent tugs even before it was fully free of Joss’ arm.
Joss stared at the man, speechless. He glanced over to see the stunned look in Kevin’s eyes, then shifted his gaze to Kim and Tashima. “What’d we miss?”
Kim took a step toward the professor and said, “‘Have you ever had an experience you could not explain?’”
Burke’s head snapped up as if he’d heard gunfire. His glasses slid down his nose and he reached up to push them back into place. When he finally returned his attention to the camera case, his movements were slower, more refined. “I’ve had many experiences, Miss Saunders. I’ve found earthly explanations for a great majority of them, but I keep searching, don’t I?”
