Cinema of Shadows Page 9

  Tashima took a silver lighter from her pocket; touched its flame to the cigarette that dangled from her lips. She blew smoke and said, “I bet this place was somethin’ back in the day.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure you’re down with this? I know I was givin’ you a hard time, but if you really don’t wanna —”

  “I want to,” Kim told her. “I need to.”

  “Alright then, let’s go.”

  They walked slowly across the crumbling asphalt. Neon yellow parking lines had faded with time and tall grass and weeds sprouted from every crack, crater, and crevasse. Two figures stood beneath the marquee. One was Professor Burke. The other was an older gentleman with glasses, dressed in a plaid shirt and blue overalls. Keys dangled from his hand.

  When the professor caught sight of them, his eyes widened.

  “Miss Saunders.” Burke rarely smiled, but at that moment, he actually grinned from ear to ear. “You’ve decided to join us after all.”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

  “Mind? I couldn’t be more pleased.” He motioned to the older man. “Ladies, allow me to introduce Mr. Wilber Harvey. Mr. Harvey, this is Miss Saunders and Miss Ishmail, two of my students.”

  “Pleased to meet you, young ladies.” Harvey held out his hand to Kim.

  She shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The old man then shook hands with Tashima.

  “Charmed,” she said.

  “Mr. Harvey was the projectionist here at the Woodfield,” Burke told them. “By his own admission, probably the world’s oldest living projectionist.”

  The man gave a snort and his lips curled into a smile that creased his entire face, turning furrows into valleys that cut across his cheeks. He looked as though he might be as old as film itself. “I started runnin’ reels here in ’42 and been runnin’ ‘em ever since.”

  “You mean ’til this place closed down,” Kim corrected.

  “Nope. Still runnin’ ‘em. Now I’m down at the old Wabash Drive-in in Southdale. Got me the only keys to this place, though. After Delbert ...” His eyes drifted to the board-covered glass of the ticket booth, then shot back. “After what happened, I got to be the caretaker here. Delbert made me executor of his whole damn estate. You’d never’ve known the man had any money to look at him, but he had it all stashed away. The will was real simple and real specific: pay the property taxes and keep this place standing. So I kept payin’ and the place kept standin’. Then the money ran out last year, and the state sold all the land off at auction. Damn shame too. This was the last real movie palace in the state, and next week they’ll go and put a wrecking ball through it.”

  Tashima blew smoke. “It looks haunted.”

  “In England,” Burke told them, “we don’t like to say a place is haunted. We say it ‘has spirits.’ But I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions about the Woodfield without proper evidence, Miss Ishmail.”

  Kim saw the “motherfucker” look in Tashima’s eyes and spoke up before her friend could give it voice, “So ... What happened with Delbert?”

  “Mr. King?” Harvey turned to the box office. “He killed hisself and the cashier, Shelly. Blew both their brains out over there in the ticket booth.”

  The flesh on Kim’s arms and neck suddenly tingled. Her eyes shot to the graffiti-blanketed wood that covered the glass and her stomach sank.

  “Whoa,” Tashima said. “You see it happen?”

  “I saw ... I found ’em after.” Harvey’s words became hushed. “See, Delbert and Shelly ... they’d been lovers. And boy, was they ever hot and heavy too. Sometimes, I’d walk by ol’ Delbert’s office and hear ’em in there ballin’ away. Pardon my French.”

  Kim blushed and her eyes snapped away from the boarded glass. “It’s okay.”

  “Anyhow, folks say he pulled the trigger ‘cause they got in a fight. To tell you the truth, I think he knew this place was goin’ the way of the dinosaurs and he couldn’t stand it. How could he make money offa one screen when they got a dozen or more over at the damn mall?”

  Harvey turned back to Burke, fumbled with the keys in his trembling hands.

  “Well, enough o’ me jawjackin’, you folks ready to go inside?”

  “Not quite yet.” The professor looked at his watch. “I’d like to wait for the other two members of my team.”

  “They can find us inside.” Harvey found the right key and slid it into the lock on the front door. “We’ll be the only ones in there.”

  Kim shifted her weight, her glance sticking on Burke. Except for the ghosts. Right, Professor?

  Burke shook his head. “There’s a prayer we need to say as a group before entering the site.”

  “Thought they didn’t allow no prayer in schools no more?”

  The professor grew a coy little grin. “Oh, I manage to get around that. Instead of ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’, I just have to say ‘insert supreme deity or positive human emotion of your choice here.’”

  The old man flashed a look of disapproval, then opened the door, revealing the darkness that had been locked up within the structure. “Well, you can wait here for ’em while I flip the fuses and get us some light.”

  “There’s still power?” Burke asked. He sounded surprised.

  “There is now. Guy was in here a couple of days ago. Paid Pleasant View Power and Light to get the juice flowin’ again.”

  The professor frowned. “For what reason?”

  “Had a crew yankin’ seats out. Was gonna cart the projector off too, I understand. Gonna sell everything over the damned computer.”

  Tashima pointed at the open door with her cigarette. “If the power’s already on, why you gotta walk in the dark and flip fuses?”

  Harvey chuckled. “Well, little lady, I ain’t got a clue where every little light switch in the place is, but I know how to find my way to the fuse box. It’s easier for me to just go turn ’em all on and off from one spot than feel my way around each room.” He reached deep into a pocket of his overalls, produced a small flashlight and stepped through the doorway. “Be right back.”

  Kim watched the Woodfield swallow the old man, her arms still covered in gooseflesh.

  I can do this, she told herself. I’m not afraid. I’m not.

  Burke glanced at his watch, then at the overgrown parking lot. “Where are they? We need to set up all the bloody equipment.”

  As if on cue, a white van shot into the parking lot, the university’s logo on its side. It came toward them so quickly, Kim wondered if it would stop before it ran them down. The brakes shrieked, and rather than ramming the entrance, it parked parallel to the cracked sidewalk.

  When the passenger door opened, it was Kevin who stepped out. He was dressed in a Chicago Bulls T-shirt and ballcap with faded, paint-stained jeans. He held up his splinted hand, his head tilted down. “I’m really sorry we’re late, Professor. It took us longer to load than we thought.”

  “No problem,” Burke said. “The caretaker went in to turn on the lights.”

  Kim wiped her forehead again. “And the air, I hope.”

  “This place is huge.” It was Joss who’d been driving like a maniac. His gray Gold’s Gym T-shirt had the sleeves ripped off to display muscular arms. He looked over at Tashima and smiled. “Hey there.”

  “Hey,” Tashima replied absently.

  Kim turned her attention back to the gloom of the doorway. “Hasn’t Mr. Harvey been in there a while?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Burke said. “He probably just-”

  The lights came on, but not all at once. Tiny bulbs in the ceiling of the canopy were first, followed closely by the fluorescents of the marquee. A brief shower of sparks, from some exposed wires that had once been connected to the “A” in “PALACE,” caused Kim to jump, and then light poured out from the open door.

  “Yeah!” Joss clapped at the display, then stepped out from the driver’s side and opened the van’s back doors.

  Burke walke
d over, surveyed the equipment within. “Now, let’s see who gets what, shall we?”

  He grabbed a digital camera, and after looking it over, passed it to a surprised Tashima.

  “Miss Ishmail will be our still photographer today. We want to walk around the location for ... I’d say perhaps twenty minutes before taking any pictures. If there are spirits here, we want to give them the opportunity to get used to us. Some people actually ask the spirits for permission before they take their first photo.”

  Tashima’s chin lowered, her eyes still level on the professor. “You serious?”

  “That’s Video Production 101.” Joss leaned against the van and smiled. “You gotta get the release or you’ll end up having to put that digital blob over the ghost’s face when it runs on television.”

  Tashima rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

  “As I’m sure I’ve stated in my lectures,” Burke began, looking at Joss, “spirits can become irritated if we’re not respectful of them.” He turned back to Tashima. “Today, because we’re only doing a walk through, take just a few pictures in each room. This weekend, however, you’ll constantly be snapping photos. Whenever you, or anyone else, feel odd, snap off a picture. If you see something in the corner of your eye, snap off a picture. And, by all means, if you see orbs, mist, or sparkles in your flash ... stay where you are and quickly take some more. There’s a spirit there. The ratio is usually one promising photo for every 50 we take, but I’ve been on investigations where we had no usable photographs at all.”

  He glanced at the braids that poured down Tashima’s back.

  “You wore a hat to keep your hair back. Good. Long hair has a nasty habit of sweeping into view. When photographed, it has the appearance of a vortex. Also, keep in mind that this building has been abandoned for some time. There’s sure to be dust covering just about everything. Clean the camera’s lens regularly, and be aware of clouds we might stir up while walking. Dust can generate false positives for orbs or ectoplasm mist.” He looked at her cigarette. “For this same reason, there’s no smoking while we’re inside.”

  Tashima took one long drag, then dropped the butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of her sneaker.

  Satisfied, Burke turned back to the van, grabbed what looked like a small metal suitcase and slid it to him. Inside, he found a digital camcorder and tripod.

  “Mr. Giler will run video camera for us today.”

  Joss rubbed his hands together. “All right.”

  Burke pointed to a button on the side. “This model has infrared. You can shoot usable video at night or in the darkness of an unlit room.”

  Tashima chuckled. “Great, we can all have that white-eyed possessed look they get on Survivor!”

  Next, the professor removed what looked like binoculars from another case. “We also have night scopes. I didn’t realize the building would have power. Kevin and Joss, if we find darkened storage rooms or hallways, I may still have you use them.” He craned his head toward Tashima. “If they’re using one of these, it’s very important that you warn them before using your flash. You can seriously damage their eyes.”

  “Gotcha.” She nodded, still trying to familiarize herself with the Olympus.

  Burke opened another black canvas bag. This one was small and reminded Kim of the case that held her calculator for Trig. “Mr.Heiliger.”

  “It that a Geiger Counter?” Kevin asked.

  “It’s an electromagnetic field detector,” the professor corrected. “It’s widely held that spirits disrupt the field, giving us a higher than normal reading. This afternoon, I’d like you to take sample readings so we can know what the normal ranges are in each room.”

  He put the device in Kevin’s good hand, then turned to Kim.

  “And now for our Miss Saunders.” He handed her a clipboard holding a thick pad of notepaper. “You’ll be making detailed maps during our walkthrough, noting the location of all air vents, heaters, electrical appliances, fuse boxes, computers, mirrors, and light sources.”

  “Great.” There was a pen tethered to the clipboard. She drew a few doodles in the margin, testing it, then returned her attention to Burke. “Thanks.”

  The next piece of equipment Burke revealed looked like Kim’s hairdryer.

  “This is a thermal scanner,” he informed them. “We’ll use it to detect the cold spots that we often find in haunted places. Spirits —” He waved his hand across the air. “— draw energy from their surroundings. They then convert that energy, using it to appear to us or to affect their environment. If they convert electrical energy, we’ll see lights dim and fully charged batteries go dead. If they convert heat energy, we’ll get cold spots and other temperature variations. This scanner shoots a beam that acts like a thermometer. It will then give us a digital display of the temperature of whatever it strikes. I’ll go ahead and run this bit today.”

  Before closing the doors to the van, Burke handed each of them a small steno pad.

  “I want you all to be on your toes, as it were. Note anything unusual that happens during this walk through ... especially meter and temperature readings, visual sightings, or strange sounds. Also make notes of any feelings or emotions you experience that may be odd or out of place. I trust everyone wore a watch of some kind?”

  Kevin and Joss looked at their watches as if alarms had gone off. Tashima held up her wrist for the professor to inspect. Kim just opened her steno pad and wrote the day’s date.

  Burke gave a pleased little nod. “Good. Note the exact time of these events and readings. Later, we can compare notes and look for similarities in readings and feelings that occur in certain areas or at certain times. Once again, I want to stress that you make no conclusions based on what we do see, hear, or feel during this walk through. We need to review all reports, photos, and recordings and correlate every bit of information before we can make a responsible, educated analysis.”

  He moved to the entrance and looked into the building.

  “All right then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Kim’s heart ran a marathon.

  I can do this.

  I’m not afraid.

  I’m —

  When she crept through the opening, her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

  The lobby must have been quite elegant in its day. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling covered in ornate, gold-tinted plasterwork. Mirrored panels jacketed the walls. And the floor was a huge checkerboard of Georgia white and Riviera black terrazzo tiles.

  Time and neglect had each had their turns at the room, however, leaving it pummeled and broken.

  Small gray-brown birds had flown into the building, probably through the broken window Kim had seen from outside. They sat perched on the chandeliers and stair rails, their chirping and fluttering echoing through the chamber. The golden paint on the trim was badly flaking, leaving chalky white patches that marred the illusion of precious metal. Many of the mirrored tiles had shattered or had fallen away completely, revealing dried glue on the naked walls. And the lavish flooring was now cracked and stained; white tiles made green by puddled water and mildew, black tiles spotted by bird excrement.

  Tashima reached out and touched one of the entry doors. “Check this out.”

  Kim turned to look at them. Outer boards shielded leaded glass fashioned into the likeness of a filmstrip, sprocket holes and all. A large frosted “W” filled the center frame.

  “They’re beautiful,” Kim agreed. She hoped they could somehow be rescued. It would be a crime for such gorgeous workmanship to be smashed beneath the treads of some raging bulldozer.

  An enormous snack bar sat across the room from them, filling the wall between auditorium doors. Black pegboard hung above glass candy cases, displaying concession prices like Polaroid snapshots of the past.

  Kim read a few, then elbowed Tashima. “Large Popcorn $1.50, Hot Dog $1.00, Box of Junior Mints seventy-five cents ... Even I could afford to see a movie here.”


  “Girl, you’re datin’ a doctor now. He can take you someplace nice.”

  They both giggled.

  “Professor ...” Kevin pointed at the walls. “These mirrors are going to be a problem, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Burke agreed. “Among other things, we’re searching for light anomalies, and all of these reflective surfaces will make it more difficult to determine what is natural and what is supernatural. However, they might give us an opportunity to try some scrying.”

  Joss turned to them, his brow furrowed. “Some what?”

  “Scrying,” Burke repeated. “A very old, very simple technique.” He gave a sly grin. “You simply look into a mirror and see if anything looks back.”

  The room fell silent.

  Joss hummed the Twilight Zone theme, then laughed.

  Kim didn’t find it funny.

  She stepped across the lobby to the snack bar; began listing all the reflective surfaces. She noted the mirrored display cases and glass shelving. Once filled with candies and snacks, they now gathered dust and cobwebs. At first glance, she thought some spilled Raisinets had been left behind. Closer inspection, however, confirmed it was actually a collection of rodent droppings. Her next concerns were the old-style popcorn poppers. They stood atop the stand at either end and in the center, the word “popcorn” etched into their glass. She didn’t think their metal kettles would be very reflective — hours beneath a scouring pad would still not remove the oily grime left behind after their last use — but she noted them anyway.

  Burke moved to the center of the room. “I’d like everyone to link hands and form a circle.”

  Reluctantly, they came together and clasped hands; Kim was careful with Kevin’s splint.

  Before the professor could speak, Tashima abruptly tried to break free from Joss’ grip. “Stop tickling my palm!” she warned.

  Burke cleared his throat and they gave him their attention.

  “For decades, psychologists have argued ‘Nature Vs. Nurture,’ haven’t they? Is there really a ‘bad seed’ — someone whose genetic makeup makes them predisposed to behave contrary to societal norms — or is a person merely a blank page on which life experience and environment weave their tragic tale?