© 2018 by Max Allan Collins
Library e-Book : 978-1-5384-7312-2
Trade e-Book : 978-1-5384-7313-9
This digital document has been produced by Nord Compo.
CHARACTERS:
HEATHER – 1980s era teenage girl
ROD – 1980s era teenage boy
NORA CHANEY – thirty; an artist; single.
WILL WYMAN – fiftyish college professor
MARY – gal pal of Nora’s; runs feminist bookshop
CAROL – another gal pal of Nora’s
NEWSCASTER – TV; male or female
DETECTIVE LISA WINTERS – no nonsense thirty-ish cop
DICK MATHIS – reporter, mid-thirties, confident.
NURSE – twenties; works at nursing home.
MRS. MEEKER – sixties but seems older; dementia
PASTOR – fifties; not quite on top of things.
CABBIE – male; Chicago accent
DELBERT – fifties; a madman.
MUSIC:
FANGORIA THEME
ANNOUNCER:
You can run but you can’t hide. It’s far too late for that. Welcome to the dark side, where the night never ends – as Fangoria presents...Dreadtime Stories. With your host, Malcolm McDowell. Tonight’s Dreadtime Story: “Reincarnal” by Max Allan Collins
NARRATOR:
You remember the ’80s – big hair, heavy metal...slasher films? You don’t have to have been there to know about those awesome, tubular times.
MUSIC:
Generic ’80s heavy metal instrumental comes in, then plays under following speech.
NARRATOR:
It wasn’t so different then from now – girls and boys still went to the senior prom...always a big night for a young couple...the night so many innocent kids first go “all the way”...
SOUND:
Heavy metal music louder now. We’re in an echo-chamber school gym. Giddy murmur of kids.
ROD:
(working to be heard over the music) Come on, Heather...let’s blow this pop stand.
HEATHER:
They’re gonna announce the king and queen!
ROD:
Yeah, like it’s gonna be us! Come on, baby! You promised.
MUSIC/SOUND:
Heavy metal music continues. Heavy doors close, MUFFLING music. Couple walking on gravel. Outdoor noise.
Metal music drops way back.
HEATHER:
I know I promised...but I’m scared.
ROD:
There’s nothing scary about love, babe. Nothing scary about growing up. It feels great.
HEATHER:
I didn’t mean that...I mean, those killings.
ROD:
Hey, no worries. Your Rod and his staff they will comfort you.
HEATHER:
Tell that to the four couples that got slaughtered!
SOUND:
Footsteps on gravel stop.
ROD:
Here, honey. Get in.
SOUND:
Car door opens. Rustle of clothing as they get in. Car door closes. Metal music gone.
ROD:
Sugar – those couples that got killed? They were all really old...twenties or thirties.
HEATHER:
Maybe. But it’s couples. They were all...you know...making love when they...got it.
ROD:
Yeah, they were doing it when they got chopped, but baby, it was in motels.
Or out on that lover’s lane. Not in a school parking lot, for shit sake!
HEATHER:
You’re not helping. Listen. Prom night is special. It’s a night for memories. Maybe we should just go back inside and...
SOUND:
Zipper unzips.
ROD:
Let’s make some memories.
HEATHER:
Rod...Rod...I don’t know...I do love you...
SOUND:
Clothing rustle, belt buckle hits steering wheel, general sound of furtive undressing by the two kids.
ROD:
(murmuring) Oh, Heather, you doll...you are so beautiful. This is a memory I won’t never forget.
HEATHER:
Long as you live?
ROD:
Long as I live.
SOUND:
Car door opens.
ROD:
Hey!
HEATHER:
Rod – Rod, he has a knife!
SOUND:
Knife puncturing flesh. Ripping flesh. Splashing blood. Heather screams, then Rod screams, too. Sounds of terror continue under following speech.
NARRATOR:
Heather saw the killer’s face – a thin face with one blue eye and one brown one, and a smile too wide for so narrow a face...and sadder than any smile should ever be.
SOUND:
More slashing. But no screaming.
NARRATOR:
Then Heather was floating, flying – above the car, looking down at it, through it, looking at the blonde-haired husk in the white blood-spattered prom dress, a husk that used to be her, as the blue-eyed/brown-eyed man flailed with the knife in the moonlight.
ANNOUNCER:
Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories will continue in a moment.
ANNOUNCER:
Now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime
Stories, and “Reincarnal.”
NARRATOR:
Let us leave those bad-to-the-bone ’80s and return to modern times...although the loft apartment in Chicago’s Old Town, where a hipster crowd has gathered for a regular Friday night get-together, does possess a certain timelessness. Take hostess Nora Chaney, a lanky brunette in black who might have been at home in the beatnik days of the 1950s – a`successful freelance commercial artist doing fine art on the side. Her guests, perching on second-hand shop furniture, have just watched a demonstration by Professor William Wyman, who sits beside Nora on a couch.
NORA:
What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself.
WYMAN:
Are you all right?
NORA:
Tell you the truth, prof – I’m not sure.
WYMAN:
You should feel fine. I gave you a post-hypnotic command...you shouldn’t remember a thing.
NORA:
I don’t...But why are you guys staring at me like that?
SOUND:
Footsteps on wooden floor.
MARY:
Honey, you just got a little...worked up...Here. Take this. A little white Zinn oughta bring you back to earth.
NORA:
Thanks, Mary...Professor, you may have told me to forget, but I know I’ve been through something disturbing. It...it’s like a taste in my mouth from a...a meal I don’t quite remember eating.
WYMAN:
I’m afraid we’ve taken advantage of how good a subject you are. My little hypnosis party games have been harmless, so far...
MARY:
Yeah, last week was a hoot – you stretched out like a board with Ted sitting on your stomach...getting pins stuck in your arm without a twitch from ya...
CAROL:
Yeah, and puttin’ those bananas in your purse before we went out to hear that band, last week.
SOUND:
Some nervous, polite laughter. Male and female.
WYMAN:
I’m afraid it was a mistake to try to regress you, my dear...no one really knows whether hypnotic regressions are merely the subconscious playing games, or actual evidence of reincarnation.
NORA:
Play it back...What did I do, strip and dance around like Isadora Duncan?
Listen, I won’t be left out of the fun when I was the fun...Play it back!
SOUND:
After a beat or two, a click of a recording device.
NORA:
(filtered; teenage voice) I think the thing that scares me most is how inexperienced I am. I mean, Rod’s been around. He’s...worldly and stuff. I mean, I don’t want to be a virgin forever, but what if I disappoint him? Here he comes – he wants to go out in the parking lot and do it, right now, I just know he does...
DISSOLVE OUT, then DISSOLVE BACK IN:
NORA:
(filtered; teenage voice)...Now I’m floating, flying, like Supergirl – above Rod’s cherry-red Mustang, looking down
