The wake-up

24

Wakened from their long slumber, Nazi zombies trooped slowly across the bottom of the tropical lagoon, their jackboots kicking up little puffs of sand with every step. Thorpe had seen the movie five or six times before, but he had never understood why the zombies were all wearing sunglasses. Except that it made them look really cool. The sound track was a mere whisper from where he stood. He leaned forward, peered down through the second opening in the projection room, checking out the crowd below. Still no sign of the Engineer.

"Who are you looking for?" asked D.K., the projectionist, watching the movie through his own portal. He was a frail old gent in a threadbare brown suit, a proud, liver-spotted lothario with a bad comb-over.

"Nobody."

"Nobody, my ass. If you're checking out the girls, forget it. You're too old and too square for this crowd. You want to turn some heads, you'll need to get some tattoos, and pierce your pecker."

"I'll take that under consideration."

"I remember when all it took to get laid was a Brylcreem pompadour and new Levi's. I wouldn't be young again if you paid me."

Thorpe watched the exits, so disappointed, he wanted to break something. He had no right to be-it had always been a long shot- but he was. It would have been an elegant trap, tripping up the Engineer with a classic bad movie. The fact that Shock Waves was also one of Thorpe's favorites would only have made it sweeter. Would have.

"Let me turn the sound up in here," said D.K. "I can't hear a thing."

"I like it quiet," said Thorpe, still watching.

The audience was bathed in light from the tropical island on-screen. The theater was packed. Thorpe could see rows and rows of surfers with their bare feet up, and street kids slouched like ragged hippies lost in a time warp. Plenty of couples Thorpe's age, too, buffs drawn from all over to the screening of this out-of-print rarity. The Los Angeles Times had even included a boxed notice in its upcoming-events calendar yesterday. The Engineer had to have seen it. He wasn't here, though. Thorpe had roped off the balcony, found a spot where he could see people walking in past the ticket booth without being seen himself. He had gone to high alert at one point when a group had approached wearing zombie masks, but they weren't the right size for either the Engineer or his bodyguard. He tracked them anyway, waited until they had raised their masks to stuff popcorn into their mouths before returning to his post. He scanned the crowd again. The Engineer wasn't there.

"You got to plan ahead if you want to meet the ladies." D.K. crossed his legs. "See, you're at the wrong movie. Midnight features, that's for the screwballs and freaks and girls wear ripped fishnet stockings. Those kind of girls aren't interested in a man with a job, a man who uses deodorant. You should be going to the matinees we run on weekdays. Ghost, Dirty Dancing, A Man and a Woman, early Harrison Ford and Richard Gere, too. The joint is just packed with horny housewives. Fish in a barrel for a good-looking fella like you."

Thorpe smiled. "What about you?"

"Wednesday mornings. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Doris Day and Rock Hudson." D.K. rearranged the strands of hair on his scalp. "Good thing we only run those movies once a week, or I'd have a heart attack."

On-screen, the shipwrecked survivors straggled ashore, Brooke Adams's blouse clinging to her. One of the paradigms of any great zombie movie was a fetching ingenue with great cleavage. In a few minutes, the survivors would traipse through the jungle to the abandoned laboratory of a renegade Nazi scientist and the fun would really start.

"People been saying for years that Rock Hudson was queer, but I'll never believe it," said D.K., watching the movie.

Thorpe watched Brooke Adams. "If this movie is so good, why don't we go inside and watch it?" asked Gregor.

"Because I am a cautious man," said the Engineer. "Frank may be in there."

"Let me go in and find out."

"Do you honestly think you could spot him before he saw you?" sneered the Engineer. "Sit back and read your magazines."

Gregor started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he tilted back his seat, the motor groaning with the weight of him, opened a copy of Assbusters. There was just enough moonlight coming through the window to illuminate the pornographic images, the flesh gray and dead as the lunar landscape.

The Engineer sat perfectly still in the driver's seat of the Buick sedan, watching the Strand theater. They had been there for over an hour, watching the crowd slowly filing through the doors, but had seen no sign of Thorpe. There was undoubtedly a back entrance, but the Engineer couldn't be in two places at once, and he didn't trust Gregor to keep lookout. It was hard to be unobtrusive when you were over three hundred pounds. The man had other abilities. No, the Engineer stayed put. He could sit for hours without needing to shift his weight, completely comfortable. He could have been an astronaut, able to live in cramped quarters for months without complaint. He would have been an astronaut if there had been money in it, money or ego gratification. What was the point of going to the stars unless you were getting away with something?

Gregor was breathing heavily now, his face bent over the pages.

The Engineer cracked his window. He hated missing the show. He had seen Shock Waves only on video, never a 35-mm print. He had no idea how Thorpe could have found out about his predilection for cheesy horror movies… but he didn't put anything past the man. He had been tempted to buy a ticket, but the idea of being fooled by Frank was unbearable. Fooled again. He remembered the girl, Kimberly. That had rankled. She and Thorpe had gotten him good. Well, the Engineer had laughed last. With Kimberly at least. He smiled to himself. Kimberly was merely a preview of coming attractions. Thorpe was the main feature. He turned to Gregor, annoyed. "Kindly stop smacking your lips."

"Sorry."

The Engineer stared at the marquee announcing Shock Waves. If Thorpe was setting him up, they would wait for the theater to empty, then catch him leaving, when his guard was down. If the showing of his favorite movie was just a lovely coincidence, then he and Gregor would simply stroll in afterward and confiscate the print. He hummed softly, thinking of the good times ahead. "That was a pretty decent movie," said D.K., packing up the first reel.

Thorpe watched the remnants of the crowd filing out. The Engineer would have to wait. In twelve days, the Meachums would be back from Hawaii, but Thorpe had come up with a plan to keep them safe. It might even work.

"Don't worry, kid. There's a woman for you out there. You just got to pick your shots."

Thorpe helped D.K. with the other reel. "That's him," said the Engineer.

"Where?"

The Engineer eased the Buick forward, lights out, barely giving it any gas. He wouldn't have recognized Thorpe from this distance, but the film cans he was lugging down the alley marked him. The Engineer had waited until the crowd had left, then drove past the stragglers smoking under the marquee and found another parking spot. A few minutes later, someone stepped out of a theater exit he didn't even know existed, and he knew it had to be Thorpe.

"Is that him?" Gregor tossed aside his magazine. "I'll grab him."

"Even if you could grab him, that's not what I want. I prefer to see where he's going."

"Because of the money?"

"Very good." The Engineer watched the corner. "If we snatch him, it will degenerate into a contest of wills, and he might just choose to die before giving me what I want. The man is sitting on at least two or three million dollars; I'd like to see where he lives… perhaps who he's living with. Frank is stubborn, but he has a soft spot for the weaker sex." Smile. "And he does have some idea what I'm capable of."

"I get it."

"Down," hissed the Engineer, sliding lower. Gregor barely got his knees out of view before headlights illuminated their car and then were gone. Gregor was quicker than he looked, a world-class wrestler in his youth, now gone to fat and indolence, but still useful. Loyal, too. That was why the Engineer had spared his life.

The Engineer had drugged Lazurus's whole crew at the party they gave in his honor for escaping, drugged them and shot them in the head, shot them one by one as they snored away. Except for Gregor. He had watched his bodyguard snoring, and the Engineer had actually placed the barrel of his pistol in Gregor's mouth, started to squeeze the trigger… and stopped. Sometimes he surprised himself. He had been so angry that night, angry at Frank for not staying at the safe house, angry at having to rush with Kimberly, not being able to take his time. Killing the crew had been necessary for security reasons, but it didn't really diminish his anger.

"Up." The Engineer turned on the ignition, pulled away from the curb. He could see the red taillights of Thorpe's car far ahead. He didn't turn on his headlights until Thorpe turned the corner. He sped up now, afraid they were going to lose Thorpe.