Crampton by Thomas Ligotti, Brandon Trenz Read Free Book Online Page A

Masons are attempting to take over the modern telecommunications networks to accomplish the same goal. Right?
    BRADY
    It sounded a lot more convincing when Uncle Ray said it.
    Helen tries the hall's main door. It is unlocked. She pushes it open and the agents look inside. Pitch black.
    BRADY
    Looks like a flashlight Job.
    HELEN
    Great.
    INT. MASONIC HALL
    A flashlight beam slices through the darkness. Then two.
    Even by flashlight, it's obvious the Masonic Hall is a total disaster: broken chairs and debris litter the floor, dust and filth has accumulated in piles in the corners.
    HELEN
    What time was that show tomorrow?
    BRADY
    Three o'clock.
    HELEN
    I don't think they're going to make it.
    The flashlight beams scan the vast room in different directions. They converge on the far side of the room, which is dominated by a stage. Like the rest of the hall, the stage is a wreck--wood planking rotted, buckled, or just plain missing.
    HELEN
    I get a really weird vibe off this place.
    BRADY
    (looking toward the ceiling)
    Yeah--like it's going to collapse on top of us.
    HELEN
    No, more like ... this sounds stupid ... like we're being watched.
    Brady shines his flashlight around the old building for a few seconds.
    BRADY
    You're right. (Beat) That is stupid.
    The beam of the flashlight stops on a small door just to the right of the stage.
    BRADY
    What's that back there?
    INT. MASONIC HALL - OFFICE
    The agents enter the tiny room flashlights first. It contains what is apparently the only piece of furniture in the whole building; an old, plain desk. A heavy black rotary-style phone sits on the desk.
    HELEN
    Does this look familiar at all?
    BRADY
    The Mystery Line commercial. They must have taped it in here.
    Brady goes over to the desk. He reaches for the telephone receiver cautiously, like he's about to pick up a live rattlesnake. He lifts the receiver off the cradle and starts to bring it to his ear, moving slowly, as though under some spell. He places it to his ear--
    HELEN
    Uh, Wells?
    Brady blinks like he's just been woke up. He shines his flashlight towards Helen. She is holding up the end of the telephone cord--frayed, wires dangling, like it had been torn out of the wall long ago.
    Brady, a little embarrassed, sets the receiver back in its cradle.
    BRADY
    I thought there might be ... I don't know what I thought.
    HELEN
    Let's get out of here.
    INT. MASONIC HALL
    FISH-EYE LOOKING DOWN - we see Brady and Helen exit the little office far below and make their way out of the Masonic Hall.
    HALL - LOOKING UP - almost lost in the shadows, TWO SEVERED HEADS dangle above the stage, tied to the rafters by knotted cords. The heads of the two snitches.
    EXT. MAIN STREET - EVENING
    Brady and Helen exit the ruined hall, overcoats dusty, hair full of cobwebs.
    BRADY
    I need something to eat.
    HELEN
    I need a long shower. Hey, look...
    Across the street, the Fix-It and Supply Shop's sign has been turned around to read "OPEN FOR BUSINESS." Inside, a figure can be seen working.
    Helen begins crossing the street. Brady stands there.
    BRADY
    You sure we can't get some dinner first and then talk to this guy?
    HELEN
    Are you coming or not?
    BRADY
    (following)
    Fine.
    INT. FIX-IT AND SUPPLY SHOP
    FRED, a man in his mid-sixties, is hunched over some obscure gizmo, working at it with tiny tools. He's wearing a pair of glasses, one lens of which has been fitted with a jeweler's magnifying eyepiece.
    A small bell RINGS as Brady and Helen enter the Fix-It shop. Fred does not look up.
    HELEN
    Excuse me?
    Still nothing from Fred.
    HELEN
    Excuse me? I'm Agent Sweeten. This is Agent Wells. (Beat) We're with the FBI.
    FRED
    (concentrating on his gizmo)
    I'm closed.
    BRADY
    No, you were closed. Now you're open. See ...
    (he points to the OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign)
    ... says so right here.
    FRED
    I guess you FBI types are way too smart for me.
    Fred goes back to ignoring the agents.
    HELEN
    Sir, we're here on an investigation.
    She holds up the receipt from Illusions