Deal
I can't believe this shit. I've been a free man for two weeks and I'm already back in it. Out in the dead of night with a pair of bolt cutters and a backpack full of pot.
"Won't you hurry it the fuck up? Yous actin like we got all night."
The sweat on my hands makes it tough to grip the handles.
"Jesus, I'm tryin the best I can, man."
"Best I can, maaan," he says, mocking my voice. "Just crack the fuckin door."
I feel the chain give with a loud thunk. It slinks its way to the ground. I look up, there's a little red light bleeding through the bricks.
"Finally got it open. Keep it movin, you oogatz."
The alleyway is covered in shit and trash. Mosquitos buzz in the summer humidity. I thought prison was hell. I'd yet to have seen New Jersey.
***
My partner and I make our way inside. The door leads to a corner of the lobby. It's a movie theater. A big one, too.
It's bright, surprisingly so. The bulbs that still work coat the fading carpet with yellow light.
"City’s still wastin juice on this place? Been closed nearly a decade."
Dust wafts across the carpet with each of our steps. I've never been to a theater this big, dozens of halls spit into rows of theaters. A soft static leaks from speakers around the counter. It sounds like a radio that gave up a long time ago.
"Hey!" He snaps his fingers in my face. "Let's go junky, I'm just here to make sure you don't smoke the backpack."
"10 pounds would take me a while. I'm just here for the cash, the shit y'all smoke here is dirt anyways."
"Aight, easy California."
The concession counter is in disarray, popcorn buckets and drink cups lay scattered along the floor. The red ropes of the queue are tangled in knots.
A light flickers from deep inside the kitchen. I swear I can see something move.
"Woah, you see that?"
My partner’s pacing. "See what, a fuckin fairy? You pot heads are somethin else."
“You have a problem with me or something?”
"Problem? My only problem is gettin stuck doin drops with some lowlife that's been here a week. I don't deal with addicts."
"But you'll deal to addicts?"
He gets up in my face. His breath smells like cheap liquor and newports. "There's a difference between raking bread and breaking bread, hippie," he shoves me back. "We just need to drop the sack in theater twelve and get the fuck outa here."
***
The hallways are massive, rows of posters are torn and faded.
The dust is oppressive. It coats everything from the bottom of the wall to the corners of the ceiling. Weirdly enough, there's none in the middle of the carpet.
My partner speeds down the hall. He doesn't even bother to check if I'm still behind him. Fine by me, I'm just glad he decided to shut his mouth.
We pass theater nine, then ten. Theater eleven is shackled and bolted from the outside. But, there's no theater twelve.
Ten, eleven, thirteen, fourteen. Our drop location doesn't exist. My partner puts his finger up to his lips and shushes me.
The music is soft at first. It's the kind they'd play just before a screening was about to start. Gentle, melodic, and simple.
A soft glow peeks around the corner, seeping out from the cracked door. There's the light flicker of a waking projector. Someone's inside of theater thirteen. My partner gestures for me to go through.
"I-I don't know man, I didn't sign up for this."
The music swells, spilling deeper into the hallway. We stand for a few tense moments.
"Sorry chief, ain't about what you signed up for."
He opens the door and beckons me through. As soon as I'm inside he slams it shut.
***
I lunge back to the door to hear a key turn over. I start banging.
"Hey! Fucking burnout asshole, open the damn door!"
He doesn't respond. I can barely hear his footsteps disappear in the direction we came. The music cuts to a rolling wave of static. The same that followed me through the lobby, just much louder now.
What the fuck is this? Why the hell did I take this gig?
Flown out across the country just to drop some weed in a shitty run-down movie theater.
It was always too good to be true.
The red glow of the exit sign marks the end of the hall. I've just got to make it to the front.
The white light snaps, there's darkness for a second. Then the entire theater is bathed in a solid wall of vibrant pink.
There's no dust, this path is well used. The air is freezing cold. My head aches from the violent noise and light.
I try the door expecting the worst.
It won't budge.
I turn to face the theater.
Underneath the projector sits a full row of businessmen. They're wearing pig masks. Not a crinkle in their suits.
The light reflects the pits of their eyes.
A rolling camera rests just below them.
"H-hello? I have the drugs, if that's what this is about."
I toss the bag forward. It clatters against a large fence that separates us. None of them flinch.
I question if they're even alive.
A voice rings out from behind the camera as the red rec light comes to life.
"ACTION!"
The exit door swings open. A pale man is shoved out from the darkness. His whole body turns a stark pink in the projected light.
His face, he doesn't have one.
Molten wax covers almost his entire head, sparing a tube where his mouth should be.
He lurches into the open theater, hands welded at the wrist. It looks as if they had melted his skin and forced them to heal together. A sharp hunk of jagged metal protrudes from his misshapen flesh.
"Hey I-i was just hired to do a drop! Whatever debt I've got I promise I'll pay it! Jesus Christ, just get me the fuck out of here are you listening?!"
I'm only greeted by the blinking light of the camera.
The man swings the blade towards me, it clatters against the fence and swipes down my cheek. I taste hot iron as my own blood leaks into my mouth.
There's no bargaining. No deal.
Only survival.
I lower my shoulder and throw myself into him. He tumbles into the fence, gurgling and thrashing at me.
He slices deep into my thigh, splitting it open as pain shoots across my entire body.
While he's at an angle, I use my other leg to stomp his shin as hard as I can. The bone shatters instantly.
White splinters pierce his skin and splatter the carpet with blood.
He falls forward onto the jagged scrap. It embeds itself deep into his chest. Blood pools beneath him as his breathing slows.
The room is silent other than the static.
"CUT!"
All of the pig masks stand in unison. They break into thunderous applause. They whistle and cheer as I fall to the ground in exhaustion.
I push my hands onto the massive wound on my leg. It does nothing to stop the bleeding.
A lone figure stands in front of the crowd. His mask is different from the others.
A gray wolf.
He bows to the pigs behind them as they bathe him in praise.
My vision starts to blur. He steps down the aisle staring down at me and the fresh corpse.
“Now that, ladies and gentlemen, was acting! A star is born!”
He opens a gate and I try to crawl away from him. My arms fail.
He gets down on a knee to caress the side of my head. His thick calloused fingers get caught in my sweaty hair.
"Shhhh, it's okay, son. Welcome to show business!”