Read Midnight Movie: A Novel Online
Authors: Tobe Hooper Alan Goldsher
Midnight Movie: A Novel (14 page)
EXCERPTED FROM THE PAPERS OF DR. AARON GILLESPIE,
RISK MANAGEMENT ANALYST FOR THE DEPARTMENT OF
HOMELAND SECURITY
April 19, 2009—I have been studying sleeper cells since long before 9/11 and was recently told by a high-ranking White House official that I possess as much, if not more, knowledge of a cell’s inner workings than anybody in the government. This is not a fact I am necessarily proud of, but the cell movement throughout history is fascinating, and its development in the Middle East even more so.
How can one not be fascinated? How can one not want to learn about specially trained secret agents who are sent to another country and assimilate into the culture, waiting for the moment when their handler contacts them to commit an act of terrorism that, while it is a means to an end, might lead to their death. But to them, to the believers, death is life.
For the sake of plausible deniability, many cell members do not even know the existence of their comrades. Cell Member #1 may live in the same city as Cell Member #2 and not know of his existence. Cell Member #3 may be friends with Cell Member #4 without ever realizing that they are coworkers of sorts. Gripping, simply gripping.
There are considerably more cells in the United States than one would expect. Al-Qaeda has offshoots in Tucson, Santa Clara, Houston, Orlando, Boston, and Portland. Hamas has been spotted in Los Angeles, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and Dallas, as well as in my very own town of Chicago. There is the Muslim Brotherhood in Tulsa, and al-Gama’ at al-Islamiyya in Detroit, and the
Algerian Armed Islamic Group in Seattle, and Abu Sayyat in San Francisco, and on, and on, and on.
I know how they work, and I know how to make them work better. I know the proper way to make a pipe bomb. I know how to create sarin gas out of common household items. I know American sleeper cells better than the cell members themselves. It is my job, and I am an expert.
Becoming a member of one of the above will not be a problem.
http://www.thetruthaboutzombies.com
Welcome to the Truth About Zombies
April 19, 2009
Possibly interesting news from the world of the undead, kiddies. TTAZ member Gorgeous Gorge knows somebody who knows somebody who saw these four college kids in the Oakwood Cemetery in Nowheresville, Texas, digging up what was likely a grave. (WTF else could it be they were digging up? It’s not like you’re going to find anything else in a cemetery other than a grave.) Apparently there was moaning and a heinous stench. (Sounds pretty zombie-centric to me!) Gorge’s friend’s friend’s friend sent us a cell picture:
Click here for photo
.
That, dear readers, is what we in the zombie industry refer to as “indisputable evidence.” Granted, the zombie industry’s definition of “indisputable evidence” is far different than that of the rest of the world. See, we take what we can get.
Keep your eyes peeled, and drop us a note if you see anything.
COMMENTS
Bullshit picture. Doesn’t prove anything
Adam from Cleveland, OH
April 20, 1:10 AM
I know exactly where that is, and I’ve seen some weird shit going down back there for the last two weeks. First of all, I can attest to the stench. You can smell it from five blocks away, and even farther if you’re downwind. Second of all, there’re always people going in and out of the cemetery at night. I know for a fact that most of them are dipshit high school kids getting drunk and tipping headstones (stay classy, Texas), but some of them, not so much. I can’t attest to any gravedigging, but, like I said, weird shit.
P.S.—Yo, Adam from Cleveland, enough with the negative vibes. No haters allowed.
Brenda from Austin, TX
April 20, 2:42 AM
There was a little piece in the
Dallas Observer
about it last week. I can’t believe none of you saw this. Weirdly enough, the link for the article is dead, so I typed it up for y’all. Check it out:
“Word out of Austin is that the undead are walking the streets … or at least that’s the word from our photo intern Paul Chase, who claims that three of his friends who live by the Oakwood Cemetery have disappeared off the face of the earth, and his feeling is that they were murdered by zombies who have risen from the grave, and they will be reanimated when the time is right. We can’t prove it … but we can’t disprove it, and Paul is a good man, so we’ll run with it.”
Full disclosure: I know Paul Chase. He wouldn’t make this up. I’ve had a call in to him since I read the article but haven’t heard back. I promise I’ll post any news I can find.
Craig from Austin, TX
April 20, 7:02 AM
i died today and i was reborn and it was beautiful and you bitches are all missing out. it’s easy. bash your head against a mirror and eat the glass. put your head under the tire of a city bus. put some gasoline up your ass and light a match. then wait. they’ll come. and it’ll be worth the wait.
Zombie Jim from You Don’t Want to Know, TX
April 21, 12:04 AM
Interesting. Very, very interesting.
Morris Frost from Las Vegas, NV
April 21, 12:10 AM
Zombie Jim, you’re a moron. And Morris Frost, you’re probably a moron, too.
Adam from Cleveland, OH
April 21, 9:17 AM
FROM: [email protected]
TO: GaryChurch@gmail
SUBJECT: Anybody home?
DATE: April 23, 2009
Hey, Gar—
I know you’re busy on the set and all, but I haven’t heard from you in a week. What gives? Shoot me a text or something.
Love,
Warren
FROM: [email protected]
TO: GaryChurch@gmail
SUBJECT: Anybody home?
DATE: April 23, 2009
Screw that. (I’d have said “eff” that, but we have a sensitive spam filter.) I’m calling you tonight.
I still don’t know the exact date in April that it started, and I still don’t know most of what happened, and since I’m not the deepest thinker in the world, I don’t like going there all that often. Whatever.
What happened was, every night I stayed home—whenever I was in my apartment—I’d fall asleep at exactly 9:33
P.M.
, and then wake up each morning at 9:33
A.M
. When I was at a gig, or a rehearsal, or on a date, or at a movie, I’d stay awake, no problem. But if I was in my crib at 9:33,
boom
, out like a fucking light. Those sleeps were dreamless, and I always woke up tired. What the fuck, right?
Once I figured out the pattern—which took four, maybe five days—I tried to keep myself awake. I’d set my alarm for 9:35
P.M.
—two minutes after crash time—and I’d blast that shit at full volume. Didn’t work. Slept right through it. I bought two more alarm clocks and set them at staggered times throughout the night. Same thing.
Now, I may not have the ability or desire to examine my inner self, but I’m definitely not one of those guys who’ll let things sit. I’m a pragmatist. Like if I see a red splotch on my balls, I’m going to the dong doctor’s office, and parking myself in his waiting room, and not leaving until the guy sees me. Having a father who half-assed his cancer treatment until he had one toe in the grave will affect you that way, you know? So on the fourth night of this crap, when I woke up with dirt on the cuffs of my jeans, reeking of sweat socks, I was like,
Screw this, something ain’t right. I might be sleepwalking all over the damn place. I’m getting a sleep study
.
(director, Austin American Sleep Diagnostic Center):
Erick Laughlin came to the center on April 30, 2009, complaining of what was, in effect, a case of narcolepsy. Most people have the misconception that having narcolepsy means you fall asleep at random times, and while that is one of the symptoms, the disorder is, unfortunately, far more debilitating. Among other symptoms, narcoleptics can also experience sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and, worst of all, cataplexy, which is similar to an epileptic seizure in that the patient is conscious but unable to speak, or move, or feel.
Mr. Laughlin’s sleep study took place on the nights of May 2 and May 3, and it proved nothing. On the first night, he fell asleep just before midnight and awoke at seven
A.M
.; the second, he slept from eleven
P.M
. to eight
A.M
. His test readings both nights were normal.
At our May 5 consultation, he insisted that we take our equipment to his residence and conduct the study there. Unfortunately, that would have been prohibitively expensive, and his insurance didn’t cover a remote study, so we had to refuse. It was at that point he became argumentative and physically aggressive. Security escorted him from the building, and I never heard from him again.
I should note that some narcolepsy sufferers are prone to violence.
After Dr. Hollander told me they couldn’t haul their equipment to my pad, something snapped, and I jumped over his desk, grabbed him by the lapels of his lab coat, and shook him, and shook him, and shook him, and I couldn’t stop. I had no control of my limbs. It was like I was standing outside of my body. Apparently that might’ve been caused by my narcolepsy that, according
to Hollander, wasn’t really narcolepsy, but whatever. It happened. Nobody got hurt. Badly.
Since the center wouldn’t do a study, I decided to do one myself. My apartment became the Erick Laughlin Clinic for Weird-Ass Sleep Disorders. It wasn’t the most high-tech setup: We’re talking a microphone fed into my Mac and a sweet video camera I borrowed from my drummer, Theo. After years of being a film critic, I was making my very own movie. Sort of.
So three days after my two bullshit nights at the center, I got into bed at 9:00, pressed Record on my computer, turned on the camera, and stared at the clock. The last thing I remember was seeing 9:32.
The next morning, I woke up at 9:33, put on some coffee, pulled the DVD-R out of the camera, stuck it into my computer, synced it up with the sound, and hit
play
.
And then I disappeared.
(drummer, Massacre This):