The Late Night Horror Show Read online

  Monroe Taylor leaned against the side of his friend Jason’s own second-rate ride—a poorly maintained 1978 Chevy Malibu—and took a slow sip from a jug of hunch punch as he surveyed the squalid urban landscape. He remembered his mom bringing him to this mall as a kid. A Kmart had been the mall’s anchor tenant, the big draw that pulled in crowds, a healthy percentage of which trickled down to other then-profitable establishments like the Blockbuster video store and the cool record shop where he’d spent hours browsing the wide selection of metal and punk albums. But Kmart had pulled up stakes a decade ago and Blockbuster and the record store followed not long after. The formerly halfway nice area then descended into an apparently irreversible pattern of decay. This was the first time Monroe had visited the area in years.

  This being early evening on a Sunday, the mall’s parking lot was mostly empty. The parking lot of the Sunshine 6 cineplex was only marginally fuller. Maybe a dozen-and-a-half cars were scattered across the lot.

  Monroe took another sip from the plastic jug of hunch punch. It was a berry-flavored punch mixed with a generous dose of Everclear, a 190-proof, pure-grain alcohol. He was already feeling a mild buzz. That was good. He wanted to do a slow burn—go in feeling a little tipsy and then get steadily hammered throughout the night. It was the last night of the three-day festival, which would run into the wee morning hours. His plan was to see three of the six movies before all was said and done. He thought he’d start with the zombie picture, because it looked like the best of the bunch and he wanted to be at least mildly sober for it, then move on to that crappy-looking chainsaw thing, and then wind up the night with either that vampire movie or that haunted house ghost thing.

  He took yet another sip of hunch punch.

  Something kicked the car window behind him.

  Someone screamed.

  Monroe grimaced. “Jesus.”

  His best friend, Jason Tatum, was fucking Nikki Carson in the backseat of the Malibu. That was probably her foot kicking against the window. She screamed again and kicked the window again. Monroe sighed and pushed away from the car, walking off a few yards out of annoyance. But he didn’t begrudge them their good time. He’d be doing the same thing if a willing sex partner happened to be handy.

  He drank more hunch punch and stared out at the street.

  A silver Hyundai rolled up to a stop at the intersection, pulled through it, and turned left into the theater’s parking lot. Monroe smiled as he recognized the car. It belonged to Kira Matthews. Someone was with her. Another girl. As the Hyundai drew closer, Monroe took a closer look at Kira’s passenger and realized he knew her.

  Lashon Miller.

  Huh.

  Lashon was all right, but she could come across as a little stuck-up. She definitely thought she was a better class of person than Monroe. Which was sort of true. She was smarter and better educated (Monroe having dropped out of college after his first disastrous semester), and she sometimes let him know this in not-so-subtle ways. Which stung, but she was also often nice to him. She was a hard girl to figure out, but Kira really liked her and that was good enough for him.

  The Hyundai pulled to a stop a space over from the Malibu. Kira’s window rolled down and she smiled out at him. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Been here long?”

  “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  Lashon leaned over from her seat, stared up at him through the window. “What’s that you’re drinking?”

  “Berry punch and Everclear.”

  “Gimme some.”

  “Sure.”

  He sauntered over to the Hyundai and passed the jug through the window. Lashon took it and knocked back a sizable gulp. She licked her lips. “Yum.”

  Monroe stared at her. She looked really cute tonight, wearing a short black skirt and a clingy, shoulder-baring black top. Her shoulder-length black hair looked like it had been done recently. It looked glossy and perfect. Kira looked good, too, in denim cutoffs and a white tank top. It was hard to say which one he might have the better shot with, in romantic terms, just theoretically speaking. Kira was a friend. Their relationship was formed initially out of a mutual fondness for British television and Japanese horror movies, and he’d never put the moves on her, out of respect for the friendship. Still, he’d always found her attractive.

  A faint scream rang out.

  Lashon shifted in her seat to peer past him at the Malibu. “What’s going on over there?”

  “Jason’s fucking Nikki Carson in the Malibu.”

  Lashon unclipped her seat belt and opened the door on her side. She climbed out and peered at Monroe over the roof. “Let’s harass them.”

  “Uh…”

  Lashon gave him a quick once-over as she came around from the other side of the Hyundai. “You look good, Monroe. You’ve lost weight.”

  “Uh…”

  Strange comment. Point of fact, he hadn’t lost any weight since the last time he’d seen Lashon. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d put on a couple pounds. Not that it mattered. He was a pretty skinny dude, so he could afford to gain some. She was just being purposefully flattering. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. With a girl like Lashon you could just never tell. It could be a totally innocuous comment or she could have some kind of weird, unknowable ulterior motive.

  She passed the punch jug to him and continued on toward the Malibu. Monroe glanced at the car and saw the sole of one of Nikki’s small feet pressed flat against the glass. Then he looked at Kira as she got out of the Hyundai and threw her door shut.

  “Lashon says I’ve lost weight.”

  Kira looked him over, then rolled her eyes. “You might get lucky tonight, Monroe. She and Greg are finished, for real.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.”

  Monroe wondered if he could bum a rubber from Jason. Just in case. He’d have to be smooth about asking, being sure to do it when Lashon was out of earshot. Of course, it was highly unlikely he’d actually wind up getting with her, but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

  Kira scowled at him. “You don’t have to be so excited.”

  Monroe made his smile go away. “I’m not excited.”

  “Are, too.”

  “Whatever.”

  Huh. What if Kira and Lashon both wanted him?

  That’d be a tough motherfucking dilemma.

  Lashon leaned over the back of the Malibu and peered through the rear windshield. She rapped her knuckles on the window and giggled at the shriek that elicited from Nikki. A dim shout of “you bitch!” could be heard from the interior of the car.

  Lashon giggled again and kept peering through the window. “Ooh, look, Jason’s got a big pink pimple on his left ass cheek. That’s nasty.”

  More shouts from the car.

  Lashon gave them a cheery wave and came back to where Kira and Monroe were standing. “That Nikki chick is kind of hot. How did a loser like Jason get with her?”

  Monroe shrugged. “I, uh…”

  “Never mind. Let’s have some more of that fucking punch.”

  Monroe passed the jug back to her and she took another healthy swig. “Mmm. Man, I plan on getting good and fucked the fuck up tonight. And maybe get laid.” She pressed the jug into Kira’s hands. “Stop looking all scowly, bitch. We’re here to have fun. Drink up.”

  Kira accepted the jug with obvious reluctance. “I only want to get a little buzzed. I’m driving, remember?”

  She started to pass the jug back to Monroe after a tiny sip, then stopped, frowning. “That really does taste good.”

  She took a bigger drink.

  Lashon laughed. “Rock on. Fuck moderation. Hey, you never know when the world might end. It could happen tonight, while we’re in that dump of a theater. A fucking nuclear bomb could drop right on our heads while we’re watching shitty movies. We could all just suddenly die. Like that.” She snapped her fingers. “So you might as well party like there’s no fucking tomo
rrow. You don’t want to have been all boring and responsible and shit in the last moments of your existence, do you?”

  Kira took one more big swallow and passed the jug back to Monroe. “Oh whatever. Last thing I want is a DUI. That should do me for a while.”

  Monroe said, “The possibility of all-out nuclear war is really kind of remote these days anyway.”

  Lashon looked at him. “Is that right?”

  Monroe nodded. “Yeah. And even if it happened, I seriously doubt whoever was attacking us would waste a nuclear warhead on fucking Murfreesboro. Those things are expensive and there’s nothing worth wiping out here anyway.”

  Lashon’s expression turned pensive. “Huh. You’ve got a point. I’m not sure the rest of the world would even notice we were gone.”

  “Probably not. And if anyone did notice, they’d be all like, ‘Whoa, Murfreesboro got flattened by a fucking nuclear bomb. Never heard of that fuckin’ place’.” He smirked. “Hell, I’m not sure it’d even really count as an attack on America per se.”

  Lashon snatched the hunch punch jug from Monroe. “You’re a funny motherfucker sometimes, you know that?”

  Monroe grunted. “Yeah. I know. Shit.”

  They heard a creak of rusty hinges as the Malibu’s passenger side door swung open. The seat on that side was shoved forward and Jason Tatum emerged from the car wearing only his jeans. A couple of empty tall boy beer cans fell out of the car and clattered on the asphalt. Jason had a muscular build and a moderately hairy chest. He had shoulder-length brown hair and looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least a day. A cigarette was wedged into a corner of his mouth. “Any of you Peeping Tom motherfuckers got a light?”

  Lashon dug a plastic Bic out of her little handbag. “Here ya go, stud.”

  Jason lit the cigarette and blew smoke at her. “Enjoy the show?”

  Lashon smiled. “Mixed review. Good energy, but your performance could use a little work. I’d be happy to give you some pointers.”

  Jason passed the lighter back and stared at her.

  Monroe frowned.

  Huh.

  “He doesn’t need any pointers, bitch.”

  Nikki had come out of the car. She was a short but very curvy girl. The tight white shorts and baby-doll T-shirt she wore emphasized a full figure that was just plain distracting. Monroe usually tried to avoid looking right at her. Otherwise, he’d stare and drool and that would be awkward.

  Lashon directed another smile at Nikki. “Relax. I’m just joking around.”

  Nikki wrapped her arms around Jason, mashing her enormous breasts against his ribs. She glared at Lashon. “Better be.”

  Lashon kept on smiling. “If I know what’s good for me, right?”

  Monroe started to get a twitchy feeling. Uh-oh. This could get ugly.

  Kira cleared her throat. “Uh…maybe we should go get our tickets.”

  Jason smiled and draped an arm around Nikki’s shoulders. “Nah. Movies won’t start for an hour yet. Let’s hang and party some more first.”

  The gesture of physical affection from Jason seemed to relax Nikki. A lot of the tension went out of her posture as she smiled and said, “Yeah, I wanna get fucked up. Gimme that jug, bitch.”

  Lashon reluctantly surrendered the jug.

  Monroe glanced at Kira. “Yeah, let’s hang a while. Besides, we’re still waiting for someone.”

  Kira squinted at him. “Who?”

  “Old buddy of mine. We were tight in high school. Trevor McKinley. I’ve mentioned him before.”

  Kira nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I remember.”

  “Anyway, he and his girl are coming. Apparently she’s crazy for zombies. They’ll be seeing Rise of the Dead first, which is my plan as well.”

  Kira blew out a petulant breath. “Hmph. I want to see Blood Lust first.”

  Monroe grinned. “You and your vampires.”

  Kira made direct eye contact with him, holding his gaze for a long moment. “See it with me.”

  “I, uh…sort of promised I’d see the zombie thing with Trevor first.”

  Kira suddenly gripped him by the hand. “See it with me.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Please?”

  Lashon laughed. She already sounded a little drunk. “Dumbass. Say yes, or you’re even dumber than you look.”

  Kira squeezed his hand again.

  Monroe swallowed hard. “Uh…”

  Fuck.

  His head was spinning. The world had turned upside down. Although he’d vaguely entertained romantic notions regarding Kira, he’d never taken them too seriously, figuring he was the kind of guy she’d like for a friend but never anything else. He was a fun goofball she could pal around with and that was that. Except, apparently, he’d been dead wrong.

  He didn’t know what to think, scarcely knew what to say.

  He sighed. “Trevor will be pissed.”

  Kira smiled. “He’ll get over it. And we’ll see whatever they want right after. Sound good?”

  Monroe found himself smiling, too. “Yeah. It does.”

  A black Ford F-150 pulled into the theater’s parking lot and headed in their direction. The truck parked behind the Malibu and both doors swung open. The guy who emerged from the truck’s passenger side was Trevor McKinley, his friend. The girl, who had been driving, was blonde-haired and strikingly pretty, but she looked kind of country in her denim jacket, tight blue jeans, and boots. That didn’t surprise Monroe. Trevor still lived with his folks out in the sticks. His friend looked kind of country himself in his crisp, freshly laundered blue jeans and buttoned-up flannel shirt.

  Jason favored the newcomers with a sideways grin. “You must be the infamous Trevor McKinley. Heard a lot about you from my bro. Good to meet ya.”

  He removed his arm from Nikki’s shoulders and extended a hand.

  Trevor shook the proffered hand. “Same.”

  The girl was wearing a Dawn of the Dead T-shirt under her denim jacket. It showed a hollow-eyed bald zombie over the title, an image from the original version. Monroe realized she was looking right at him. She was smiling but had a peculiarly intense vibe about her. She approached him but didn’t offer her hand. “You’re Monroe.”

  “The name they gave me, yeah.”

  “I’ve seen pictures, that’s how I know who you are. Trevor really loves you.”

  Monroe felt suddenly uncomfortable. “Uh…”

  Kira laughed. “Damn, girl, you can’t say shit like that to guys. They have manly images to protect.”

  The girl looked at Kira. “Yeah, but I don’t care about shit like that and so Trevor doesn’t either. I’m Brix, by the way.”

  She kept looking at Kira. She still didn’t offer her hand.

  Lashon laughed. “Bricks? As in the building material?”

  The girl’s oddly intense smile vanished. “As in B-R-I-X. It’s my name. Got it?”

  Lashon exchanged a guarded look with Kira. “Uh, yeah…got it.”

  Monroe sensed Kira’s discomfort. He couldn’t blame her. The girl was pretty, but there was something undeniably off and weird about her. He was sort of glad now that he wouldn’t be seeing the first movie with them.

  Monroe belatedly realized that Jason and Trevor were laughing and talking, apparently oblivious to the strange tension Brix was generating in everyone else. Even Lashon had fallen silent, which was unlike her, especially when she had some booze in her. It was cool that Jason and Trevor seemed to be hitting it off. He’d been worried about that.

  Jason barked loud laughter about something, then walked over to the Malibu, where he reached into the back and fished out a Slayer T-shirt and his shoes. He pulled the T-shirt on and stepped into the shoes as he continued talking to Trevor. Once he was fully dressed, he reached into the car again and pulled out a cooler. Monroe heard the sloshing sound of partially melted ice. Jason flipped the cooler’s lid open, pulled out beers, and started passing them around.

  Monroe capped the jug of hunch punch before accepting
a can of PBR. He passed the jug to Jason, who shoved it down inside the cooler. The buzz of conversation grew more boisterous as the booze continued to flow. Brix even seemed to warm to the rest of them a little after pounding a couple cans of brew. Before they knew it, it was time to head up to the theater.

  As they started in that direction, Kira gave Monroe a little nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

  He looked at her. “Yeah?”

  Her brow was slightly creased. “It’s funny. I was sure this place had closed a long time ago.”

  “Huh.” Now Monroe was frowning, too. He stared at the theater marquee, where the titles of the movies were spelled out in black block letters. He didn’t spend a lot of time in this part of town, but he did come through here once a week or so en route to other places. He tried in vain to recall the last time he’d seen the marquee lit up like this. “Maybe they just reopened.”

  “Maybe.”

  She didn’t sound certain. There was even a small hint of wariness in her tone. Which was silly. It was just a movie theater. What was there to worry about?

  A few more cars pulled into the theater’s parking lot shortly after tickets went on sale. Two of the late arrivals were John Dorsey and Greg Nelson.

  John parked his Camry in a remote corner of the lot, far away from any other cars. He sat slumped behind the steering wheel. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He’d been crying almost nonstop for hours, ever since he’d regained consciousness to find himself sprawled across his wife’s bloody corpse. He’d been acting irrationally from that moment forward. Rather than calling the police, he’d changed out of his bloody clothes and into clean ones. And then he’d left the apartment and started cruising aimlessly around the city with an open twelve-pack of Coors in the seat beside him.

  He didn’t believe he’d killed his wife. He simply wasn’t capable of it, not even in a drunken stupor. As implausible as it sounded, the only explanation was that some maniac had come in and savagely slaughtered Marie while he was passed out, inexplicably leaving him alive. He believed with all his heart that this was what had happened. And yet, instead of acting in a sane way, he was doing illogical things authorities would undoubtedly perceive as the actions of a guilty party.