B-Movie Attack Read Free Page A

frustration. “Ah, that’s the luck. I’ll buy you a drink. Hell, let me buy you ten!”
    Ted accepted the drink. After an hour of banter, they both left the bar. Gary headed west to his studio apartment, and Ted returned to his one bedroom apartment in East End.  
     
    Two-thirty, and Ted couldn’t sleep. After his conversation with Gary, everything was coming together. Nobody knew about the event because it was kept out of the media. Fifteen people had died, Detective Vickers told him again and again back at the Iowa City Precinct. He was sequestered at a local Holiday Inn while the police sorted out the bodies and the crime scene investigators tested DNA and blood. Detective Vickers had played it straight with him. “Look, Ted, I have no problems with you. You couldn’t have done,” he cleared his throat, “what was done to those people. And you have witnesses. I’ve had to check my ears, frankly. They say monsters with wings were flying through the screen and slicing up their victims and drinking their blood.”
    “Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” he'd insisted. “They looked like they were straight from the film. It’s ridiculous, but it’s what we all witnessed, sir.”
    “Ah-hah,” Detective Vickers had said, sucking his teeth. “Then I suppose my only real speculation is that somebody has committed a horrible, violent crime. Very intricate indeed. Maybe you’d know of a fan club or followers of your films that would wish to reenact the attack?”
    This was Ted’s lifelong failure. “I have no real fans, Detective. My films were seized in 1979 by the Private Film Coalition of Public Morals. It’s a long story. When movies are banned, they’re often considered illegal property. I haven’t had access to the films in over thirty years, and then one pops up randomly.”
    “That’s very interesting,” Detective Vickers said. “You’ve just given me something good to chew on. I can understand your grief and confusion. If you can name anybody who would vaguely be considered a super fan or crazed psycho, please call me.”
    Detective Vickers believed somebody had recreated the monsters from his film, but from what Ted saw in the booth, that was impossible.  
    But maybe it is possible. Anything is at this point. The detective has a legitimate point. Why would your movie suddenly show up after so many years, and then this crazy stunt happens?  
    He stared at the computer screen in his bedroom. He was reading an article from the Anderson Mills Gazette . He’d read it many times. Edwin Maxwell, Professor and Director of the Iowa University Film School, had emailed it to him months ago to explain the circumstances in which his movie landed in his possession. Edwin’s father was an avid collector who had died a year ago and bestowed the films to his son. Edwin also explained that his father was an ex-member of the PFCPM, and had stolen many of the seized reels throughout the years, including Ted’s. Edwin was a fan and apologized for his movies being seized, and in apology, offered a screening at the university in honor of the only salvaged reel from the Anderson Mills Massacre.
    Why would the professor create a stunt like that? He’s a fan. He wanted the movies to be seen. It doesn’t make sense.
    Then again, maybe the movies did become real.  
    He relished another nip straight from the whiskey bottle. He read the article about Anderson Mills again—though he’d read it ten times already:
    Tragedy strikes the small town of Anderson Mills. Fifteen hundred of the three thousand locals have been declared dead or missing. The sole survivor, Andy Ryerson, has no recollection of the events. Houses are reported to have been broken into and destroyed. Sources claim it to be a terrorist incident, but as of now, any specific information has been withheld pending an investigation…
    Andy Ryerson was a familiar name. Detective Vickers questioned him about the young man, but Ted didn’t know the kid