I adjusted my grip on the rifle, letting my finger slip down to the trigger. Still, though, I had no bad feelings at this point, but that meant nothing—I am no clairvoyant, after all.
The man turned around and raised his hands. He no longer wore his ski mask, and the gash on his forehead wasn’t bleeding, but it looked gnarly. Much worse than Ell’s had after our run-in with the wolves at Avery’s Mills. She survived without stitches, but I wasn’t sure if this man would have the same luck.
“I need to get my keys outta my back pocket,” the guy said, “and unlock these chains. I won’t make no sudden movements or nothin’ like that. If I do, put a slug in my thigh.” I nodded, and he did as he said. A few seconds later, the doors swung open. He stepped back and waved toward the dark interior. “Welcome to mi castle, or whatever the saying is.”
“You first,” I said.
The man frowned. “All right.”
Once inside, he flipped a few switches, which made a heavy thunk-thunk-thunk echo throughout the lobby. Lights came on, brighter than any I had seen since the storms started.
Standing just past the threshold, he said, “There. Is that better?”
Stone killed the engine behind us. I exchanged a look with Ell; she was smiling at all the brightness. I couldn’t blame her. When light conquers the darkness, you can’t help but feel hopeful.
“Park that snowmobile right on in here if it’ll ease your mind. The snow might bury it before we head out again,” the man said.
Good point. I waved Stone forward. Squinting, I saw his face screw up in confusion. “Inside!” I shouted.
He raised a hand to his ear. Mia said something to him I didn’t catch, which resulted in a quick back-and-forth before Stone finally drove it forward and cut the engine in front of the concession stand.
Eleanor and I stepped in, and as soon as the guy shut the doors and chained them, the scent of old popcorn replaced the scent of the cold.
Man, talk about nostalgia. What I wouldn’t have given for the kettle to be overflowing, to see a long line at the concession stand (which I would’ve happily waited in), for the booming sounds of special effects rolling out from the auditoriums whenever patrons opened the doors for a quick bathroom or snack break—hell, I would’ve even been okay hearing people spoiling plots as they left if it meant things were back to normal.
The lamps and bulbs on the walls hung in many different ways: duct tape, nails, belts, and shoe strings—the epitome of a DIY job. But hey, it worked. The place was lit up like the Fourth of July—a normal Fourth.
Though the white light lent a sterilized quality to the place, robbing the aesthetics of their warmth (easy enough in these conditions), the retro charm of the theater remained intact. Framed posters of classic movies lined the wall opposite the concession stand: Alien, Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, Casablanca, Halloween, and The Godfather, among others.
Stone limped to the Star Wars poster—he loved those films—and, leaning on his lone, dented crutch, he wiped away the coating of dust covering the glass with a sleeve, smiling and admiring. He’s a sucker for stuff like that, and I can’t blame him.
“I raided the snack bar pretty much soon as I got here,” the guy said. “Sorry about that. I got a few leftovers y’all can have if you’re hungry. Nothin’ much, and nothin’ healthy, that’s for sure.”
“Good, I’m starving!” Mia said.
“You look full to me,” the man joked, winking.
I expected Mia to come back viciously, but she ended up laughing instead. “Not bad, not bad,” she replied, and then snapped at Stone. “Listen up, bro, this guy knows comedy. He could probably give you some pointers, and God knows you need ‘em.”
Stone flipped her off, and she showed no hesitation in returning the favor.
The guy laughed too. When he stopped, he stuck a hand out to me. “We ain’t had our proper introductions, have we? I’m Ramsey Cobb. It’s nice to meet y’all.”
The others introduced themselves, except for Stone.
I cleared my throat. “I’m Grady, and the pouty guy over there is Stone.” Stone nodded his head halfheartedly and glared at me. I ignored it, for the most part. “And last but not least, that dog who’s currently lifting his leg and marking his territory over there is Chewy.”
“Chewy!” Ell snapped. “Not polite! Bad dog! Bad!”
Ramsey waved his hands, chuckling. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t spend much of my time in here. Besides, that little guy probably don’t have much in his bladder and I ain’t expectin’ any health inspectors…or company, for that matter.”
Ell grabbed a wad of napkins from a dispenser by the cash register and mopped up the accident. Chewy, oblivious to most of this, got busy sniffing around the snack bar. He lucked out a few times, finding pieces of old popcorn behind the counter. Ell scooped him off the ground before he either peed again or ate something that would upset his stomach.
Ramsey pointed at the rifle. I kept it slightly raised so I could aim at him if I needed to, better safe than sorry, but my finger no longer rested on the trigger.
“Think you could ease up there, partner?”
I contemplated that for a second, and seeing as how I felt safe in here, I lowered the weapon.
“Thanks, Grady. I appreciate it. Now”—he motioned ahead to a room by Auditorium One—“just over there is where I spend most of my time. A little cafe. Cozy, full of movie memorabilia and what have you,
