Zombie Theater Read online

Finals Week. His professors had allowed his grades to stand without the finals, which he considered a blessing, but without his parents’ support, he could not afford to go back to school until he’d sorted out all the bills he’d been left with. If he didn’t go back next semester, he’d have to start paying back his school loans, too.

  There was enough cash value in his parents’ life insurance policy for him to bury them and to pay off the house, but not enough for much else. So he’d gotten a job at a golf course in the next town over. He was paid minimum wage as a groundskeeper. The pro wouldn’t hire him for anything else, citing the lateness of the season. In this part of the country, November was about the last time anyone played golf until winter had passed. In another week or two, that job would disappear and he’d have to figure out something else.

  To top off everything else, he’d struck up a relationship with one of the girls at the course, but he couldn’t afford to take her out. She worked in the pro shop and was the daughter of one of the course’s Board of Trustees. They were a very well-to-do family. His was not. He liked her but she was out of his league. With the way that things were going, he knew it was pointless to chase her and so when August rolled around, they hugged and said their polite good byes. He suspected that neither of them believed they’d ever see each other again.

  With each passing day, he felt more and more like a loser. No girl, no parents, no hope of returning to school—which meant no real future—and no one to tell his troubles to. Sure, he had friends but they were all at college, and their Skype moments were growing fewer and farther between. Before long, they’d just be Facebook friends. And he would be living the ‘real’ life that his parents lived. They called themselves lower middle class but Skip knew better. They were upper lower class. They weren’t poor but they weren’t far above it. They had a nice home, but it was barely big enough for three people. They had cars, but they sure weren’t nice or new. And, they always had food but they rarely went out to eat because there was not enough money for such luxuries. He didn’t feel poor and he never had. His parents had done a great job raising him without cash and he had never felt like he missed out on anything, so he didn’t regret his situation. But he did miss his parents and that made him more aware of just how alone and how low he was right now.

  The thought of purchasing the theater was a pipe dream and he knew it. The more he thought it through, the more discouraged he became. There was no way he could ever swing it.

  Just as he began to become thoroughly discouraged, and started to wonder why he even bothered spending so much time on something that was obviously as broken as his life, there was a commotion from somewhere deep within the theater. Something banged loudly.

  He froze in fear.

  His heart pounded. Adrenaline rushed through him but he was rooted to the chair.

  There was another noise of metal hitting a floor and then a long, low groan.

  He had to get out of here. He was suddenly aware that he was the trespasser here, not whoever might be downstairs. He was not supposed to be here. He didn’t want to get caught and arrested for something so silly. He just didn’t need that right now.

  He lay down his rag and hid the can of oven cleaner. Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I won’t. But I sure don’t want anyone to know I’ve been here.

  He crept out of the booth and tiptoed over to the stairwell. Groans and what sounded like cursing rose up the stairs to meet him. Good, as long as they’re in pain, I can get out of here. Just have to get to the first balcony. I can hide there.

  There were passages that led from either side of the first balcony to backstage. They passed by the three private booths that popped out of the side walls like pills. Those doors had remained open since the fire. All he had to do was make it down to the first balcony, figure out which set of stairs the person was coming up and then scram to the other side. He could hide in the side passage opposite the person until they were past him and then he’d sneak out unnoticed.

  Thankfully, the stairway was concrete. There was no creaking wood to give him away. He snuck down as quickly as he could and reached the first balcony with no problems.

  The cursing was still going on. It was garbled but it sounded somewhat feminine. Strange. Maybe it was a real estate agent, showing the place.

  Oh no. Anything but that. His hopes and dreams of acquiring The Regal were suddenly in real jeopardy. Could life get worse?

  He stood at the top of the stairs for a long time, waiting for whoever was down there to gather themselves together again and work their way up the stairs. Eventually, he heard the person exhale loudly and start climbing the stairs right below him. He quickly tiptoed his way across the nearly pitch black walkway, thankful that the hole in the roof illuminated the far passage enough so that he could see where he was going.

  He reached the side passage just in time. A footfall hit the metal edge of the top step and the person sighed. A flashlight snapped on and a beam of light searched the darkness in the hallway he’d just left.

  Come on baby, this is not what I need. Just keep going up stairs.

  “Skip?” the person whispered.

  I know that voice. It was Nadia from the golf course.

  He peeked around the corner of the doorway, revealing as little as possible. Sure enough, it was her.

  “Skip?” she said a little louder.

  He stepped out of the darkness and replied, “Over here Nadia.”

  She squealed in terror, not expecting anyone to answer.

  When she realized that it was Skip, she cursed at him for scaring her.

  “Sorry sweetie, but you were the one calling out to me. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She panted heavily, still a little scared.

  They sat together in the front row of the balcony, peering down at the dilapidated stage. “So, how did you find me here, of all places?”

  Nadia shrugged. “I went to your house and you weren’t there. I figured you must have headed to that theater you were always talking about. So I went looking for it and here it is, just like you said.”

  Skip nodded. “Okay, that’s all good, but how did you know where I live? You’ve never been to my house.”

  She smiled and fingered a hole in her jeans. Skip couldn’t help but notice the flesh beneath. It was just a knee but it was Nadia’s knee and it made him think of other things, things about Nadia. Things he wanted to do to her.

  “I just called the course and asked for it. Told them I had your phone and wanted to return it. They didn’t question me.”

  He nodded again and thought about it. After a few seconds, another thought crossed his mind. “Is it a break for you, this week?”

  She shook her head.

  “So, why are you home then, on a Thursday afternoon?”

  She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, took a drag and held it longer than he would have guessed. The scent of the smoke drifted over to him.

  “No, really? You’re a pothead?”

  She blew the smoke out and shot him a surprised look. “It’s why I’m home,” she muttered. “It was too easy and the work was too hard.”

  He groaned. Just one more thing, he told himself. One more disappointment.

  “You disapprove?” she asked.

  He shrugged and bobbed his head from side to side.

  “Okay, no problem.” She ground the tip of the joint on the seat next to her.

  “Oh, no no no. Please don’t do that,” Skip objected.

  She looked at him funny. “You own the place?”

  “No, not yet,” he replied seriously.

  She stared at him for a while, trying to fathom what was going on his brain. All she could tell was that he felt this place was more his home than his home was.

  “Okay, I get it,” she said. Hesitantly, she chucked the tiny butt over the railing. Not that he cared about the pot, but the way that she so casually discarded something that he knew cost a good deal of money left a bad t
aste in mouth.

  They passed some time in silence. Then she gazed at his mouth and he knew why she’d come. She wanted him the same as he wanted her.

  “I can’t take advantage of you,” he apologized.

  “No, you can’t,” she returned, leaning in to kiss him. It was a passionate snog and it awoke feelings in him he hadn’t felt for a long time. He kissed her back.

  A noise broke them out of a passionate embrace. There was something happening down below, just out of sight.

  “You didn’t bring anyone else with you, did you?” Skip asked Nadia.

  “Now, think,” she scolded him playfully, “If I wanted to make out with you, would I really want to bring someone else with me? That would be ridiculous.”

  Casually, he agreed. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Wait, you mean… you planned to come make out with me?”

  She rolled her eyes and smacked his cheek playfully. “God, you’re just as thick as every other guy, aren’t you?”

  A door creaked open somewhere in the backstage area. More scrapes. There was a thump or two. Something heavy hitting the floor.

  Carefully, slowly, they dropped to the floor and crawled to the railing. Skip peered over the edge. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Could it be the wind slamming doors and stuff?” Nadia suggested.

  “I suppose, but in all the time I’ve been coming here, that’s never happened. So I doubt it.”

  More noises. They were coming from everywhere now. Skip kept an eye toward the stage. “Seriously, I think someone else is in