Midnight Movie: A Novel (36 page)

I opened the door, and it was Dude McGee, the man who got both
Destiny Express
and
Destiny Express Redux
rolling.

I said, “Why, Mr. McGee, this is a surprise.” He was a large, odiferous man, and his attitude was terrible, and the name-mispronouncing thing got old, but for some reason, I was glad to see him. If this worked, if
Redux
reversed the curse, McGee would get an assist.

Then again, I probably would’ve been glad to see anybody. See, in retrospect, I realized I’d made a mistake by coming alone to the theater. That was some creepy shit, man, being alone in a dark movie theater, but what with the hazmat brigade and the tumbleweeded streets,
all
of Austin was creepy.

Dude said, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, To
-beeeeee
. So how did it come out? How’s the redux? How’s the restoration?”

I said, “You know what, McGee? I have no fucking idea.”

He said, “I thought you might say that.”

I showed up to the theater at quarter to midnight, and who’s waiting for me at the front entrance, looking like the fattest ticket taker in the world? That’s right, the man, the myth, the legend, Dude McGee.

I tried to walk through the door without engaging him, but he wasn’t having it. He said, “Earache Laughing Boy, a pleasure as always. You’re the first person here. Wait, no, you’re the second person here. To
-beeeeee
is upstairs getting ready for the show. He likes his Maker’s Mark, that Mr. Hoover does.”

I said, “I have to find him.” Again, I tried to get past McGee, but he grabbed my bicep. He was surprisingly strong.

He said, “I have a piece of advice for you, Eerie Laugh Man.
Leave before the ending. Leave before the last scene. Beat the traffic.”

I pointed to the empty street and said, “What traffic?”

He said, “I was making a funny. I do that once in a while.”

I said, “Whatever,” then took a peek over his shoulder to see if anybody was inside. “Quite a crowd we have here.”

Dude looked at his watch and said, “Oh, your crowd is right on time.”

I said, “There isn’t going to be a crowd.”

McGee said, “Sure there is.”

He pointed over my shoulder. I turned around, and walking almost in lockstep were three dozen zombies.

He said, “That Marcus Frost sure managed to get the word out to the right people, didn’t he?”

Before he split to go grab a seat, Dude asked me to do him a favor. I wasn’t really in a favor-giving headspace but figured that since he was the one who jumpstarted this campaign to save the world, I’d at least hear him out.

He said, “Leave before the movie ends.”

I said, “No way, man. I have to see if the guy gets the girl in the end.”

Dude said, “He doesn’t. Just go. Go home to California. You’ve done enough. The world has suffered enough. The Game is over.”

I said, “I’m staying, brother. I might be the only one.”

He shrugged, then said, “Okay, Tobe Hooper. I tried.”

I think that was the first time that motherfucker got my name right.

I hadn’t seen any of the Game zombies up close and personal, only on television and from a far distance. Now, you’d think that since Tobe gave me such an in-depth description of his encounter with Gary Church, I’d have been prepared.

Listen, man, nothing can prepare you for that. Nothing.

On the plus side, they weren’t being the least bit violent. They were shuffling to the theater with a purpose, as if they’d been summoned. When they got to the theater, they walked right past me and Dude as if we weren’t even there.

On the minus side—and this is a very large fucking minus side—their stench was ghastly. Take the roadkill alligator, cover it with skunk spray, then vomit on it, and multiply that times fifty, and you’ve got it. You could
see
the smell, too. It was like they were all Pigpen from the Peanuts.

And their skin, Jesus Christ. It was green—olive drab, to be precise. And they all had these sores that were about an inch or so in diameter. Some of them were oozing white shit, and some of them were oozing blue shit, and all of them were bubbling and steaming.

I can’t even bring myself to discuss the leprosy.

The theater filled up. Erick told me it was going to be an empty theater. Guess he was wrong.

I tried to get a gander at what kind of crowd we were looking at, but it was dark, and the lights were off, and I couldn’t see shit from the projection booth.

My only hope was that these people would leave the theater in the same state they’d arrived in.

And then, midnight. Roll film.

My God,
Destiny Express Redux
was one majorly fucked-up piece of celluloid.

But it was still better than the first one.

I stood against the back, right by the exit. No way I was sitting next to any of those undead fuckers.

The zombies stopped their moaning the second the movie started. That made the theater smell slightly less rancid. Slightly.

The first thing we saw was Claire holding the cue cards. And the first cue card said, “DIE.” Now, I wrote those cards out myself, and I sure as hell don’t remember writing “DIE.” But then again, I don’t remember much of anything.

The second card: “TOBE.”

The third card: “HOOPER.”

The fourth card: “A PAINFUL.”

The fifth card: “DEATH.”

The next five cards: “DIE.” “DIE.” “DIE.” “DIE.” “DIE.”

The last card: “BURN IN HELL.”

Jesus. You’d think that an executive producer would remember such a deviation from the script.

That was, without a doubt, the biggest what-the-fuck moment of my entire life. Yeah, I didn’t remember shit about the shoot, but
you’d think that a pile of cue cards wishing me eternal damnation would ring a bell.

And then Theo roared into the screen and cuts off Claire’s arm. And that shit looked realer than real. Especially when Claire stared at her gushing shoulder, then passed out face-first on the concrete.

And then we saw Tobe, looking handsome and vibrant. He went into his spiel about being a liar and a thief, and then Theo came in and bit off both of his arms, then sucked on the stump as if he was giving Tobe’s shoulder a blow job. Tobe then started chewing his own lips until they began bleeding. And then he screamed. And then Theo pulled down Tobe’s pants and gave him a karate chop to the balls. Tobe passed out face-first, just like Claire.

Again, not in the original script. Again, not in the original movie.

It was at this point that the repulsive creatures populating our little movie theater came to life. They stayed calm and quiet, however, which made it that much worse to see them pulling off their own legs.

I threw up on my shoes when they started beating themselves on their own heads with their dismembered limbs.

I knew Claire wasn’t my biggest fan, but did she really have to tell me to die a painful death? And to go off script without telling anybody? Christ.

I have to give credit to Billy Marron. The dude spends thirty years dicking around with computers, and he manages to
come up with better effects than Industrial Light and Magic, at one-ten-thousandth of the price.

The rest of
Redux
was as disjointed as the original but considerably more gruesome. Like, the alligator scene was unreal. I mean, the fucker bit a chunk out of Helen’s neck, and you could see gristle.

And then there was Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo, holy mother of God, did he look revolting. What with the roiling warts, and the pointy teeth, and the festering scratches running up and down his face and arms, he made poor Gary Church seem like the picture of health.

I even covered my eyes when he castrated himself with a hammer and a chisel.

The smoke started coming from the screen about forty-five minutes in, and if
Redux
was true to the original, we only had fifteen minutes left until the movie was over. I hoped nobody asphyxiated before then. Hell, I hoped
I
didn’t asphyxiate before then.

Somebody—or
something
—tapped me on the shoulder, and, without thinking, purely on reflex, I slugged him. Not that slugging a zombie would’ve done a damn bit of good—from what I’d gathered, they could be killed only with something potent like a gun or a knife—but I was on a hair trigger.

Turned out I’d cracked Dude McGee.

He rubbed his jaw, then said, “Get out of here, Erick. Leave. Seriously. Go. It’s done. You’re done. I’ve had enough. My point is made. I’m putting an end to this.”

I thought,
Weird, he called me by my actual name
, then I said, “What point?”

He said, “Don’t worry about it. Just go.”

I said, “I have to see how this damn thing turns out.”

Dude said, “I’m giving it away. Here’s the spoiler: It’s a happy ending. Now, go up to that projection booth, grab Tobe, and get the fuck out of here. By any means necessary.”

Suddenly, he didn’t seem like a moron. Suddenly, he seemed respectable. Suddenly, he seemed like a force to be reckoned with.

Suddenly, I wanted to get the hell out of that theater.

Right as Theo and Helen are about to fuck their brains out on the screen, Erick bursts into the booth, grabs me by the back of my collar, and says, “We’re going.
Now.
”

I said, “The hell we are. I’ve got to see the rest of this thing.”

He said, “Tobe, right now there are thirty-some-odd undead fuckers down there ripping off their own legs. There’s smoke shooting out of their bodies, and I don’t know whether it’s coming from their warts, or their stumps, or what, but I don’t like it, and it smells like an electrical fire and burning hair, and the edges of the screen are smoking, and I really, really,
really
don’t think we’re meant to be here.”

I said, “What do you mean ‘meant to be here’?”

He said, “At the risk of sounding cheesy, it’s time for us to get our asses off the
Destiny Express.
”

I said, “Brother, listen: Destiny is bullshit. Was I destined to be in a damn car wreck and lose my childhood and my best friend? Was the piddly little
Chainsaw
movie I made for eighty thousand dollars destined to make millions? Was I destined to kill my only friend from when I was a kid? Was I destined to unleash a motherfucking virus on the world? No way, no how, no sir. I’ve done what I’ve done, and I’m going to do what I’m going to do, and it’s not going to make a damn bit of difference in anybody’s life whether or not I stay here or split. Got it?”

He shook his head for a bit, then said, “Again, at the risk of sounding cheesy, it’d make a difference in
my
life.”

I said, “What? Why? How? What?” I was babbling.

He said, “Tobe, my relatives suck ass. You’re like my cool uncle.”

I have to admit, I was touched. I’m not what you would call a people person, so I didn’t hear that sort of stuff all that often.

But I was still staying.

He said, “Fine. It was nice knowing you. Good luck, man. You dumbass.”

I never saw Erick Laughlin again. And that still makes me sad. He was a helluva kid.

I left the booth and went down the stairs two at a time—that is, until the bottom, when I accidentally took three and twisted the shit out of my left ankle.

Right then, I didn’t know if it was broken, or sprained, or strained, or what, but it hurt like a bitch. I fell onto my ass and leaned my head against the wall. I don’t know whether it was the pain making me woozy or the zombie stench, but I was damn close to passing out. That wouldn’t do, so I pinched my cheek as hard as I could—I even drew blood—and that woke me right on up.

I crawled to the door and pulled myself up using the knob, then hobbled my way into the lobby. The smoke was seeping out through the doors, and if I wasn’t freaking the fuck out, I probably would’ve stayed to watch it.

You see, it was a rainbow.

Reds, yellows, oranges, blues, purples, greens, all swirling together. Funnels, and puffy clouds, and streams, and billows, and it was all very, I don’t know,
uplifting
. It still smelled like skunk
farts, but my oh my, it was beautiful. I almost wished Janine was there to watch it with me.

Then I heard a collective, ear-splitting moan from inside the theater, followed by what sounded like a gunshot, or a backfiring car, or an exploding zombie head, so I decided it was time to skedaddle.

I limped across the empty lobby, and about ten feet from the door, I heard a loud pop, then I fell flat on my face.

It was official. My ankle was done.