Movieland

Chapter 36

"I can't see anything."

"Who has a light?"

"Who's that?"

"It's me."

"Who?"

"Me!"

"Who?"

"It's me!"

"Turn on a light."

"What's that sound?"

"A hungry sandworm."

Overhead lights illuminated a crumbling tunnel that seemed more bunker than high-tech lab. It stretched far away into darkness. JP leaned against the light switch. He was pale like expired milk.

The ceiling shook and dust fell over our ragtag bunch. Applewhite rested against a stack of plastic sacks. Frankie glowed like a golden globe. We weren't close to hearing all about his story. Carolina wondered why we were stopping to take stock of each other. The woman in white was familiar because I'd seen her in my dreams for longer than I could remember. She was the Shimer Woman. She wore the tired smile of someone experiencing great relief.

There was a beat, and we erupted into updates.

"How long? Did you talk to any villains?"

"My stance on the entire matter is that we need to sell it all to George Lucas. We'll get billions."

"It changed her. I don't know what else to say. She was just a kid."

"Standard's dog is named after Alex Foley! It eats cereal like him."

"Everywhere. All the classics. All the classics that should be classics. All the crap that should be classics. Cult and comedy. B movies. Blockbusters. Serious. Rom Com. Horror. Foreign. They're all extraneous categories. None of it matters. A movie is a movie is a movie. I was there. I was in them all. The experience matters as much to every single one of them. There are no critics in the movie-verse."

"I should've seen this coming."

"What took you so long?"

"Do you remember Ms. Solasnki in 4th grade? How she made you feel like dying every time she looked at you? That's every second with Lazlo."

"I'm okay, by the way. Not that anyone seems to care."

"What did the Joker say to you?"

"That's a long story."

"It's not over yet."

"How long is this tunnel?"

"I must say this before it comes. It was a lifetime ago that I volunteered. I was 17. The legal age was 18 but I faked my license. They weren't picky. The ad was vague: 'Volunteers for money. Some lab work required. 6 months minimum.' Up until that point I was no more than a servant for my adopted family. At first you don't realize what the bites at your ankles are from. Then you realize your sheets haven't been cleaned in years. First, it was elementary school classmates calling me Cinderella at recess. I argued no one had tried to fit my foot into a slipper. Imagine the responses to that. Then it was bowls of pudding dumped on my head in the lunchroom. It wasn't pig's blood but had the same effect. I didn't kill any of them. But I was done with it all. I saw the chance to make money and escape for six months. It was a no brainer.

"There was blood work, but that was done after the first hour. At 17, you don't know what you don't know.

"Back then the aluminum foil ball was the size of a tin can. It feeds off our energy. Maybe it exploded back there. Maybe it just shed its skin. They plugged me and Hank into it. He was just a kid. I was young, but he had experienced more than I could in ten lifetimes. He was living in a shack out by Starlight Drive-In. His adopted father was a bit of a drinker and loved a particular metal bottle opener. You can't choose your family. Unless you were Hank. He ran away to help the railroad workers. Six years later, he got caught up in a hit and run. They tried to force him into a detention center. He looked for anything other than a new set of strangers. We met when they took our blood.