Coldheart Canyon: A Hollywood Ghost Story

being—appeared from the fog. Their faces were bitter: turned-down mouths and burning, cold blue eyes like the luminous eyes of deep-sea fish.

She'd not been terrified of them at the threshold, but she was terrified now. Not because they would see her and recognize her and blame her for the absence of their consolation, but because they could catch her up in their momentum, and carry her away with them. She instinctively dropped to the ground as they approached, and they moved on past her, wailing and cursing. She heard cracking sounds as they passed by, and when they'd gone she saw that the tiles which they'd passed over had shattered.

She stayed pressed on the ground, while the fog roiled around her, afraid that they'd come back.

They didn't return, thank God; but it was clear that this wasn't a safe place to be. She could hear other packs of ghosts roving around in the fog, making their own terrifying din. The fog, she assumed, had delayed their full realization that this place was a shadow of its former self. That was why some of them kept on searching, hoping that the power they'd fed on in the good old days was still here somewhere. Of course it was not; and by degrees the bitter word was spreading, so that each of the groups searching the room slowly grasped the disastrous truth. And as soon as they did they went crazy.

'Tammy?'

She looked up. Close to the ground the fog thinned somewhat, and she could see twice as far as she could when standing. And there, at the limit of her vision, lying on the ground like her (and probably for the same reason), was Jerry Brahms.

'Oh thank God . . .'

There was a dark smear on his face, which she guessed was blood. Otherwise, he seemed to be all right. He crawled toward her on his belly, like a soldier under fire. As she approached she saw that the smear was indeed blood, its source the patch of skin which Katya had torn out of his scalp. When he reached her he caught hold of her hand.

'My dear, thank the Lord you're still alive. I feared the worst, I truly did. Somebody let the ghosts in.'

'That was me.'

'In God's name why?'

'Because Todd wanted me to,' she said. It wasn't the whole truth, of course, but it was enough for now.

'Where is Todd?'

She looked away from him, just for a moment. It was all she needed to do.

'Oh Lord, no. Not my Todd.'

'She stabbed him—'

'Katya stabbed him? Why?'

'It's too complicated . . .'

'Well, later then. Where's Katya now?'

'I think she's in here somewhere.'

'So why did you come down?'

'Why'd you think? To find you.'

'Oh you sweet . . .' He grasped her hand hard.

'Now can we please go?' she said.

'Do you know the way to the door?'

She glanced over her shoulder. The wall she'd strayed from was still visible. 'Yes. I think so. Back to the wall. Make a right. And then we follow it until we reach the door, which will be on the left.'

'Very organized.'

'I hope I'm right,' Tammy said. She started to get to her feet. Jerry tried to persuade her back down on the ground.

'I'm too big to be crawling around like this,' she said.

Jerry nodded. 'And you know what? I'm too old,' he said. 'If she sees us, she sees us. Yes?'

He scrambled to his feet, and together they headed back to the relative security of the wall. There were noises from every direction. Some were the by-now-familiar cries of frustrated ghosts; but there were now also sounds of mounting destruction. The revenants were venting their fury by taking the room apart. Tammy could hear them tearing at the walls, bringing down waves of tiles. And after the shrill crash of breaking tiles came the deeper din of wood beams being smashed, timber wrenched from timber with the squeal of unseated nails.

Tammy and Jerry stayed close to the wall; but the air was quickly filling with particles of dust, which suggested the destruction was getting closer to them. It was impossible to tell from which direction: perhaps from all.

'May I?' Tammy said, slipping her hand into Jerry's.

'Be my guest.'

The door was in sight now, and though the din was sickening, Tammy dared to think they might get out of this alive, with a little luck.

No sooner had it crossed her mind than there was a massive disturbance in the fog close by—so large a disturbance that the fog actually parted like a pair of drawn drapes.

Tammy dragged Jerry back the way they'd come, two or three steps, no more.

As she did so the ghosts came out of the gaping fog, and flung themselves at the wall around the door. They tore at it—and at the wall surrounding it—with such force that part of the ceiling above the door came crashing down. Pieces of shattered tiles, splintered wood and plaster flew in all directions. Tammy and Jerry turned away and shielded their faces. A barrage of shards peppered their backs.

When the noise of the demolition ceased and Tammy looked back, a haze of plaster dust had replaced the fog. She inhaled and it caught in her throat, reducing her to a coughing, tearful mess. Jerry was in the same, or worse, condition.

Tammy spat out a mouthful of the white soot, and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. Not the smartest thing to do. She felt plaster particles scrape between her irises and her lids; a new flood of tears came. As she wiped them away she felt Jerry catch hold of her arm, seizing her so hard that she stopped coughing, and blinked the tears out of her eyes to cleanse them. Then she looked round at him.

The ghosts who'd demolished the wall were now tearing at the exposed sub-structure of the wall, reducing it to splinters. But it wasn't the scene of destruction Jerry was looking at. He was staring ahead, back toward the center of the room.

'She always knew how to make an entrance,' he whispered.

Tammy followed his gaze.

The drapes of mist were beginning to close again slowly. But walking up between them, like a diva preparing to take her place center-stage, and armed for this final scene with the knife she'd used to stab Todd, was Katya Lupi.

THREE

'Hello, Tammy,' she said. 'I suppose you thought you were going to get out of here alive. Well you're not. Sorry to disappoint you.'

'Enough's enough, Katya,' Jerry said, doing his best to sound authoritative.

'Oh you know me better than that, Jerry,' Katya replied. 'Enough's never been enough for me.' She looked at Tammy. 'Did he tell you I took his virginity? No? He didn't. Well I did. He was a sad little thirteen-year-old, with a dick about as big as this.' She waggled her pinkie. 'Do I exaggerate, Jerry?'

Jerry said nothing. She went on, her tone darkening. 'All that I've done for you, and you're ready to creep away, ready to leave me alone. That's all you men ever do, isn't it? You creep away.'

'Not Todd,' Tammy said. 'Todd wanted to trust you.'

'Shut up. You couldn't possibly understand what was between us.' She pointed the bloody knife at Jerry. 'But you. You understood. You knew how I'd been deserted in the past.'

This was the big scene, Tammy thought; no doubt about that. And she was playing it for all she was worth, as though she could finally be absolved of all she'd done, in the name of deserted womanhood.

'You're pathetic!' Tammy cried. 'Why don't you do something useful with that knife and slit your fucking