Watch Them Die

Hannah hurried out of the women’s room with the video in her hand. Slowing down, she passed several shoppers in the mall: a pack of teenage girls, some women with their children, an elderly couple. She was searching for a man alone; maybe someone from the store or her film class, maybe a total stranger.

She knew he couldn’t be far. He’d been in the bathroom less than a minute ago. He was probably still watching her right now. She kept wondering why he was doing this to her. Did he somehow know that she couldn’t go to the police?

Hannah spotted a man with a sweatshirt, jeans, and curly gray hair. He stood near the food court entrance and stared back at her. He smirked a little, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

She froze. The familiar, almost lecherous way he grinned seemed to invite some kind of encounter—or confrontation. Hannah felt a chill pass through her.

A woman brushed by Hannah, then went to the man and gave him a hug. He kissed her. Arm in arm, they went into the food court together.

Sighing, Hannah resumed her search, scanning the crowd for the person who was playing this lethal game with her. She thought she saw a man staring at her from inside the entrance of Old Navy. But then she realized it was a mannequin. She felt so stupid. She knew her tormenter was watching her right now, amused at her silly mistakes.

She glanced at the videocassette in her hand. There was no label on the tape, probably something recorded live or off a TV. From the tape around the spools, she could see the movie had been stopped at a certain scene. Hannah knew when she put that video in a VRC and pressed “Play,” she would see another murder sequence.

She knew that her secret admirer was planning to kill again. And he wanted her to see how he would do it.

As soon as Hannah returned to the store, she ducked into the break room. She slipped the mystery video in the VCR and switched on the little television.

Audrey Hepburn came up on the screen. She was sitting in a rocking chair, with a walking cane across her lap. She wore a pink sweater. The room was awfully dark, and the poor quality of the video didn’t help matters.

As soon as Hannah saw Audrey talking to Richard Crenna, she figured out that the movie was the thriller Wait Until Dark. She hadn’t seen the film in years, and she didn’t know what came next.

Someone knocked on the break-room door; then Scott poked his head in. “You okay back here?” he asked.

Hannah quickly switched off the video. “Yeah, I was just checking this movie for a glitch,” she said. “Do you need me up front?”

“No, Britt’s handling it,” Scott replied. He stepped inside, then closed the door behind him. “Hannah, are you all right? You seem to be taking it pretty hard about this Lester guy getting shot.”

She wanted to tell him about the videos, but couldn’t. She shrugged uneasily. “It’s just—he was in the store only last week. And pretty much the same thing happened to Cindy Finkelston after she was in the store.”

“Well, it’s just a coincidence. I don’t mean to sound heartless, but I’m not shedding any tears for either of them.” Folding his arms, he leaned against the doorway frame. “So what happened over your lunch date with the dreamboat? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Oh, he’s just really pushy. He got on my nerves.” Hannah sighed. “I’ll be a couple of more minutes back here, then I’ll come help up front. Okay?”

He nodded. “Sure thing. Take your time.”

Scott stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Biting her lip, Hannah pressed the control on the VCR again, and Wait Until Dark came back on the screen. Audrey Hepburn was still talking to Richard Crenna in that dark room; then the scene cut to a parking lot at night. A man in an overcoat was walking across the shiny, wet pavement. They didn’t show his face. Suddenly, a car’s headlights glared into the camera, and tires screeched. It was a big, sleek, metal monster of an automobile from the mid-sixties. The car peeled out of a parking spot and came careening at the man.

Hannah watched in shock as he started to run. The car hit him full force, throwing his body against a chain- link fence. Its engine grinding, the car backed up, then slammed into him once more. His prone, lifeless body bounced against the fence. Its tires squealing, the car slammed into the man again and again.

Just as suddenly as the movie had cut to that harrowing murder in the parking lot, it switched back to Audrey Hepburn in the dimly lit room. Hannah remembered now. It was Richard Crenna’s accomplice, Jack Weston, killed in that parking lot—by the main heavy, played by Alan Arkin.

But Hannah didn’t know who would be killed that way in real life. And she didn’t know the killer.

Hannah ejected the video from the VCR. She kept thinking that she should call the police. But what could she tell them? Someone will be mowed down by car in a parking lot. I don’t know when. I don’t know who it will be. But I’ve been getting videos predicting all these deaths. And oh, yeah, there’s a warrant out for my arrest. I’m wanted for kidnapping and theft.

She pulled the video out of the VRC and stared at it.

Someone knocked on the door again. This time, Britt peeked into the room. “Scott sent me back here to make sure you aren’t slashing your wrists or anything.”

Hannah let out a weak laugh. “I’m fine.”

“Honest?” Britt asked.

“No, I’m not,” Hannah admitted, shaking her head. “Something weird has been going on, and I—I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it.” Hannah sighed. She felt herself tearing up. “Listen, Britt, can you keep a secret? I mean, you really can’t tell anyone about this….”

His head on the pillow, Guy gazed up at her with sleepy eyes.

Hannah stroked his blond hair. “If you hear somebody at the door a little later, it’s Britt. She’s spending the night.”

Guy squinted at her.

“You remember my friend Britt from work, don’t you?”

“She has a pierced ear here and here, doesn’t she?” He pointed to his eyebrow and then his nostril.

Cracking a smile, Hannah nodded. “That’s right. Now, get some sleep.”

She tucked the covers under his chin, and made the choo-choo sound. He nodded off after a few minutes. Hannah left his night-light on, then tiptoed out of his bedroom.

She took some sheets from the linen closet so she could make up the sofa for Britt.

It had been such a relief to finally unload on someone today. At least, she didn’t have to feel so alone in this nightmare. Unfortunately, Britt didn’t entirely understand the situation.

“So—somebody’s leaving these movies where you can find them?” she’d asked a couple of hours ago in the break room. “And it’s like clues to these murders you’re supposed to solve?”

“Well, not exactly,” Hannah tried to explain. “You see—”

“Why is this happening to you?”

“I wish I knew,” Hannah said.

“Well, why don’t you go to the cops?”

“That’s just it. I can’t. Swear you won’t tell anyone, Britt. But I’ve had some trouble with the police, and I can’t go to them without sinking into deeper trouble. It’s something totally unrelated to what’s happening now.”

“What did you do?” Britt whispered.