WidowMaker (13 page)

“So, you’re asking me to look for some extra audio that makes people freak and mutilate themselves, or trigger heart attacks?” Sam asked as he hit Play. “Stretching the realm of science a bit, aren’t we?”

Mitchell again was at Derek’s shoulder. “Enterex
is
on the cutting edge of enhanced audio fidelity.”

“True, true,” Sam said as the whirr of the projector filled the room.

“Oh, man, what I could do with a few days alone with this thing!” Mitchell exclaimed. Derek swore that he saw a little drool drip on Sam’s shoulder.

Derek didn’t even have to say anything. Mitchell put himself back into the corner.

Good boy.

“There you go, folks. Audio should be coming up on the scope.” Sam put the other headphone over his ear as few keys and twisted a knob, sliding a controller up the panel. A sine wave popped up on the central monitor. The wave vibrated as the theme music for
Terror in the Trees
filtered out of the speakers.

“Somebody in your group gets a gold star,” Sam said not looking up from his audio panel. “There is a second audio track hidden under the other.”

Derek held up a single finger at Mitchell as the kid bounced on his toes. Exuberance and pride radiated from the teen. Seriously, could he take it down a notch?

“Can you isolate it?” he asked Sam, still keeping Mitchell at bay.

“Give me a few seconds,” Sam answered, sounding distracted. Which was fine by Derek. If Sam were distracted, it meant that his mind was busy solving the puzzle—getting Derek home all the quicker.

“What?” Mitchell asked, his face contrite. “Didn’t anyone see
A
Christmas Story
with Darren McGavin and Melinda Dillon?” Mitchell kicked at the floor, his hands jammed in his pockets. “It’s not like I only reference horror.”

“I got you, sucker!” Sam shouted.

Chanting replaced the music. Derek couldn’t recognize the language, but the sound made his teeth grind. The kind of feeling he got right before he drew his gun. Something wasn't right. Derek looked at Jill, her expression confused.

Looking back at the monitor, a third wave popped up.

“Righteous! There’s a third track,” Sam exclaimed, his enthusiasm mirroring Mitchell’s. “It’s picking up amplitude as the film progresses.”

A moaning howl vibrated through the speakers.

“Jesus Christ!” Sam breathed as a fourth wave appeared.

“I told you the Baxters were going to give Bill Gates a run for the top of Fortune 500!” Mitchell said. “But did anyone believe me?
Nooo
.”

Derek didn’t even bother to try to contain Mitchell. As a matter of fact, the teen kind of had a right to tell them all that he told them so.

She was right. Derek knew the sound all too well as his own had slowed and nearly stopped in that abandoned warehouse. Like the sound of his own weakening pulse mocked him. Reminding him that he had no control over his own life, or even the ability to save a little girl who’d just wanted to play jacks.

Well, not this time. This time, Derek was in control.

Up until now, the added sounds had simply seemed like special effects. This, though? This deep bass shook his bone marrow. Sure, it was creepy, but it didn’t make him feel like jumping through the glass window.

Derek shifted from one foot to the other. This line was different from the first four. It wasn’t a steady, solid line. Derek wasn’t an expert, but he’d seen enough audio waves to know that this one wasn’t normal.

Mitchell also seemed too engrossed in the screen to answer, so Jill responded. “It’s a screenplay adage. By ninety minutes, our movie heroes must be facing their darkest hour, where everything is against them.”

“Got it! But it’s faint ...” Sam pressed the earphone to his ear, his face intent as he listened to whatever was coming through his headphones.

“What?” Derek asked. He couldn’t hear a damn thing.

Then, static screeched through the speakers. Everyone jumped back. Sam jerked his headphones off and threw them on the console. Derek looked down to where Jill’s white- knuckled grip clutched his arm.

Sam pressed his fingers to his ears. When he pulled them away, blood streaked his fingers. Sam turned to Derek, his eyes wide with fear.

“
Taht saw lleh eht tahw?”
Sam blabbered.

“What’s he saying?” Mitchell asked leaning in closer to Sam.

“Is it Chinese?” Jill asked. “Korean?”

Why the hell are they asking him? Did Derek look like he had a PhD in screwed-up linguistics? He walked up to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, Sam?” Derek asked softly.

“
Yako ma I ekil kool ti seod?”

“Sam, I’m sorry. I don’t understand you.”

His friend clenched his jaw. Frustration was stamped on his features.

“
Yllamron gniklat ma I! enoyreve htiw gnorw si tahw?”

“I got it!” Mitchell announced. “
The Exorcist
!”

“Damn it,” Derek rumbled. He could see the pain and confusion on Sam’s face. He did not need a film history lesson from Mitchell right about now. “Be helpful, or get in the corner.”

“No, no!” Mitchell countered. “In
The Exorcist
, a priest interviews Linda Blair to decide whether she’s possessed. She was speaking this weird, creepy language that none of the linguists could recognize.”

“And your point?” Jill asked.

“It wasn’t some cryptic dead language. It was
English
, spoken backward.”

“I don’t think that they specifically made this happen. If you look at the other occurrences, there are wide-ranging issues. Just like a bright strobe light can cause seizures, disorientation, or nausea, this wave is affecting each person’s brain differently.”

“See?” Jill said. “We don’t know that the Baxters did any of this on purpose.” She pointed to the screen still showing the wavering fifth sine wave. “They are audiophiles. Maybe they were just experimenting. That’s what indie film is all about,” she reasoned.

“Experimenting?” Derek said, as Sam recorded again. “These are intelligent men. If you are going to experiment, you do it in a controlled environment.” Damn, but he was mad. Los Angeles had changed Jill, and not for the better. “Then, you study the side effects. Repeat. Until you have accurate data built. Until you know it’s safe. You don’t let it loose on millions of unsuspecting people.”

Sam nodded vigorously, seeming to agree with Derek, and then he hit Rewind. “Maybe we could chalk up the first round of deaths to unintended consequences. But now? The Baxters are masters of audio. There is no way that this slipped by them.”

“Thank you!” Mitchell announced, shaking Sam’s hand. “Exactly! This has been planted.”

Those bastards! Whatever kind of hypnosis shit they embedded in their film was jacked up. They were altering people’s brains without a care for the consequences. No matter, whatever they had done to Sam, the Baxters were going to undo.

“My God, and this happened with just exposure to the audio!” Mitchell stated.

“You’re right,” Derek acknowledged. Sure, the brothers were all about audio, but what if they had altered the video as well? “Sam, can you call up the video section that matches the last audio sampling? But turn the audio off.”

Sam said, “Hud,” but it was pretty damn obvious he meant ‘duh.’

All eyes were glued to the monitor as an image of an altar, blood dripping down the sides appeared on the screen. In the background, trees swayed in sync, their roots squirming under them. A large shadow moved across the screen.

“I remember this scene,” Derek said, bracing his hands on the desk. “I saw it when I nabbed our film thief. I interrupted their show right here.”

Sam’s hand flung out in front of him, as though he were trying to push something away. He screamed as his back arched. Derek grabbed his friend trying to keep him from hurting himself.

“It’s okay! There’s nothing there,” Derek tried to reassure him, but Sam’s arms and legs flailed, and his eyes looked ready to bulge out of their sockets. Derek looked at Mitchell. “Turn the damn thing off!”

The teen rushed to the console, but it was too late. A strangled gurgle escaped Sam’s mouth as his body went limp in Derek’s arms. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not this time.

“Sam!” Derek yelled as he lowered his friend to the floor. “Jill, call for an ambulance!”

Then Sam’s mouth twitched, then his entire face, and then his whole body. Muscles locked up on themselves as Sam convulsed. Foam bubbled out of his mouth. Desperate, Derek tried to pry open Sam’s jaw. His friend was choking to death with his own tongue.

“Damn it!” Derek yelled. “I need a pen or a ruler, something to get his mouth open!”

“Yes, he is having a seizure. Come quickly!” Jill cried into the phone as her other hand fished around the desk for something. But in this modern age, who had rulers on their desks. Derek reached back on his belt and pulled his cuffs out. He could use them as leverage. But before he could unlock them, Sam’s body fell quiet. Too quiet.

One
. Derek thrust hard into Sam’s sternum. He had to exert enough pressure to squeeze the blood from Sam’s heart to his brain.

“It’s going to blow!” Mitchell screamed behind him, but Derek ignored the teen.

Two
. Sharp, fast compressions. He could keep Sam’s brain oxygenated until the EMTs got here.

No. He
was
keeping Sam alive. Period.

Three
.

* * *

“Jill, you’ve got to breathe for him every fifth compression,” Derek said to Ms. Connor, but Mitchell pulled Jill toward the console.

“Mitchell, Sam’s down,” Jill said, but he kept tugging anyway.

“Look!” he screamed, finally drawing her attention to the monitor.

Jill blinked, and then blinked again.
No kidding
!

He knew that Sam was down, but sparks were shooting out of the projector as the film caught fire. And Mitchell swore that the flames reached out toward them like claws. And the roar? Like a lion with a hard-on for them.