But it was what he had seen in the theater that scared him the most. Ghosts and zombies and the other traditional trappings of horror were indeed frightening—particularly in real life, outside the make-believe context of film—but it was the irrational incomprehensibility of what he’d seen in the demolished bathroom that made him feel truly afraid. For these were things that were not categorized or recognized, that were not part of fiction or folklore, and they made him realize how ignorant and inconsequential he really was.

There was meaning in what he had seen—of that he was sure—but the fact that he could not begin to even grasp the superficialities of intent shook him to the core of his being.

Something was going on, something just underneath the surface realities, something so huge and all-encompassing that it was breaking through in unexpected places and in unfathomable ways.

Once again, he thought about the events on the reservation and the idea that these supernatural occurrences were spreading outward from a common cause over an epic area of ground.

It terrified him, but a perenially practical part of his mind told him that it might not make for a bad movie.

There was a knock on his door frame, and Russ Madsen, this semester’s intern, poked his head into the office. “Mr. Salinger? Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Stormy nodded, waved him in. Like most of the interns he’d had over the past two years, Russ was terminally overeager and far too obsequious for his own good. He was a nice kid, but Stormy had entered into an agreement with the university in Albuquerque because, as he understood it, the kids would get real world experience, he’d get free workers, and the school would collect tuition without having to teach. From his perspective, though, the internship program had turned out to be more trouble than it was worth. The students who came to his company were all wannabe filmmakers and they seemed to spend most of their time trying to impress him with their knowledge and talent rather than doing the jobs he assigned them.

Russ was a little better than the others. He was just as adept at brown-nosing, and he tried just as hard to impress, but he did actually do the work and he completed the assignments given him.

Stormy smiled at the intern. “What is it, Russ?”

“I have a tape I think you might like.” He placed a videocassette on the desk. “It’s an unreleased feature by a local filmmaker, and I think it’s terrific. It’s sort of a horror movie, but it’s… different. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I thought you might want to take a look at it.”

“Your film?”

“No.” He smiled. “That would be conflict of interest.”