B-Movie War by Alan Spencer Page B

If I don’t, my parents will kill me. If only I had an example.”
    Professor Hatchet said, “Your mind is thirsty for knowledge. Mine is thirsty for blood.” He removed a small hatchet from his briefcase and slashed her carotid artery in one clean swipe. As the girl bled on the floor clutching her neck and gasping, he asked her, “Now are you taking notes? This will be on Friday’s examination.”
    Hunched over Jules’s desk was a naked female with long flowing black hair and a shapely body. One of the vampire tramps. She worked tirelessly splicing, cutting and connecting what would complete the film The Final Flesh .
    The monster was occupied by the ghost of Jules’s wife, Darlene. She was key to Mr. Ratchet’s existence. The war effort itself.
    â€œIs it almost ready?”
    Darlene grunted. “ Almost. Now leave me be. Go back to what you were doing. I can’t be distracted.”
    Mr. Ratchet agreed that she couldn’t be distracted. He moved on to Jules who was tied up and standing up on a metal dolly. His mouth was duct taped shut. Darlene had tied him up and left him there. Jules’s eyes doubled at the sight of Mr. Ratchet.
    â€œIt’s almost show time, Mr. Baxter. I’m so glad you let us use your fine theatre to show our movie.”
    Mr. Ratchet lifted the dolly and began pushing Jules out of the room. “Keep up the good work,” he said to vampire Darlene as they made their exit. The vampire said nothing. She kept laboring at her task. She cared nothing about her husband. Only the war.
    Jules was moaning and grunting beneath the duct tape.
    Mr. Ratchet was delighted to hear his suffering.
    â€œI guess you’ve figured it out, Mr. Baxter. It’s so easy to trick the living. You know nothing about yourself until you’ve survived death, like I have. Don’t beat yourself up too bad, Mr. Baxter. Theatres like yours across the entire world are being seized. Theatre owners have been put to work just like you have. From Boston to Barcelona, we’re using your facilities to fuel the war. Fools like you have all succumbed to our tricks and traps. The real tragedy of your mistake is involving the ones you love.
    â€œBut do you really love your niece? Even before I came along, you’d allowed the death of your wife to overshadow everything else. Selfishly wallowing in pity, you’ve forgotten Penny. She’s run the business for you while you checked out. Even when your staff quit after not being paid, Penny hung in there. She loved you unconditionally, but a person can only take so much dejection before they give up. The poor woman even stayed in a horrible relationship because she worked so hard at this theatre. It’s because of you, Mr. Baxter, that your niece will die right here in this theatre alongside you. Maybe that will quiet your begging and sniveling for a minute?”
    Mr. Baxter indeed went quiet. The facts were sinking in nice and deep. His life was flashing before his eyes. He didn’t like what he saw.
    The reaction brought great pleasure to Mr. Ratchet as he wheeled the man into Theatre 4 for the showing of The Final Flesh that was perhaps only minutes from being completed and finally shown to the masses.
    Lucky Lester ran the projection booth for Theatre 3. His final job here was playing the film The Final Flesh . A man named Mr. Ratchet paid him double time to perform his duties. The man went as far as saying three other people were being brought in to run the other projection booths.
    None of that mattered. Tonight was the final night. He had pulled some shit in his day, Lucky Lester reminisced. He enjoyed another pull from his bottle of cheap bourbon. They didn’t call him “Lucky” for nothing. For his eleven year run at this theatre, he’d sneak his wife up into the projectionist’s box for a little hugging and kissing. He was worse about playing with the ladies when he was in his