James Axler – Freedom Lost

The stickies fell upon him from all sides, their terrible clinging hands adhering and lifting, tearing his body and flesh in all directions in a massive display of carnage. Red blood and white bone; tan skin shredded and burst purple internal organs, all on display as the man was disemboweled and eviscerated like a fleshy pinata by the mutie pack’s horrible abilities.

Budd helped Norm to his feet as the other stickies paraded the various body parts of Alton Adrian around the warehouse.

“Tonight,” Norm stated. “We go tonight.”

“Not ready,” Budd tried to protest. “We need time.”

“Cawdor is in there, laughing at me. We go tonight. I’m chilling him personally! We go tonight!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

After two days of their assigned duties, everyone in Ryan’s group was bored with the riches offered by Freedom Mall. Even with their newly enhanced positions as sec men, there was nothing free in the way of entertainment. Sleeping, eating, relaxingit all came with a price, and the price wasn’t cheap. Still, there were distractions. “Haven’t been down this part of the mall before,” Mildred said to her two companions. “What’s the map say?”

J.B. took out a folded pocket guide to Freedom and consulted the layout. “Multiplex.”

“You mean movies?” Mildred asked. “Yeah. Reckon so.”

“A theater! Splendid! Perhaps we can hope for a classic from days gone by? A brightly colored musical with the likes of Kelly or Astaire? A moody film noir with Bogart or Cagney, or even that femme fatale Barbara Stanwick, leading poor, baffled Fred MacMurray to his own lust-caused doom?”

J.B. turned to Doc with a look of mock surprise. “Didn’t know you gave a damn for movies, Doc. Thought you hated them.”

Doc shook his head vigorously. “Incorrect! False! Not true! What I hate, John Barrymore, is television. Puerile dribble to sell boxes of soap! But this, this is a movie palace, and for once I shall view a motion picture at the scale the makers intended instead of viewing them via a vid player on snow-enhanced tape.”

“I doubt that, Doc,” Mildred said as they approached the front of the theater. There were slots out front for movie posters and announcements, but all hung empty or blank. A single tube-shaped box office could be spotted on a slight incline, and behind the office was the door into the concession stand and lobby. Very efficient and very bland.

“This is one of those concrete-bunker affairs. Small screen, small seats, small portions at the concession stand. The only thing big about a mall cinema is the prices.”

“Small screen?” Doc said, his expression one of disbelief. “Why on earth would a theater proprietor want to vex his patrons with a small screen?”

“Economics,” Mildred replied. “Smaller the setup, the more screens you can cram into a space. Smaller seats means more warm bodies. Why run one show when you can run six, then sell six times the amount of overpriced concessions at the same time?”

“Disgraceful,” Doc said. “I’d always been under the impression there was something romantic about the movies in their natural habitat.”

“There is,” Mildred mused. “There’s nothing like seeing a movie on a big screen.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Doc sniffed.

“Me, neither,” J.B. added. “Seen some in villes on old 16 mm projectors. Hard to see and hear.”

“Next show’s at nine o’clock. What time is it?” Mildred asked.

J.B. checked his wrist chron. “About ten minutes to. We got the time and the extra mall creds to see a picture, if you want. We don’t go on sec patrol until we meet up with Ryan and the others at midnight.”

“I wonder if they have popcorn?” Mildred asked.

“From my understanding, it wouldn’t be a proper motion-picture palace if it didn’t,” Doc said as they approached the glassed-in area marked Box Office.

“What movie is playing?” Mildred asked the man sitting behind the glass through a small metal grid. He was dressed in a crushed-velvet vest and matching bow tie. An employee tag identifying him as Boston hung from the breast pocket of his vest.

“You’ll love it, lady,” Boston replied. “Ripping good horror show. Zombies come back from the dead to feast on the human flesh of the living. Great gore with some hilarious comedy. Slapstick, is what I’ve heard it called. Sells out every time we screen it.”