Read Online Crampton by Thomas Ligotti, Brandon Trenz - Free Book Online
Authors: Thomas Ligotti, Brandon Trenz
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late. If you two are going to make Cincinnati tonight, you'd better leave now.
EXT. YELLOW HOUSE - NIGHT
A strong wind has kicked up. Brady and Helen get into their car.
INT. CAR
Brady and Helen both need a few seconds to get their thoughts straight.
BRADY
Well, Sweeten, what do you think of that ?
Silence from Helen.
BRADY
Yeah, that's what I think, too. So what do we do now?
HELEN
I say we bag it and head home.
BRADY
What do we tell the chief?
HELEN
Fuck him. I've had it with this case. I'm tired.
BRADY
Okay. We'll just report that Ricky was a dead end. All right?
HELEN
Just drive.
EXT. YELLOW HOUSE - NIGHT
The agents' car pulls out of the driveway just as the rain starts. Ricky watches from the doorway. A look crosses his face--hope, perhaps--and a second later is gone, replaced by weary resignation. He closes the door.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - NIGHT
The rental car, heading out of town, away from Crampton. The storm has gotten pretty bad--rain is slashing across the road nearly horizontally, throwing bits of debris around.
Helen turns on the radio. STATIC. She zips up the dial.
Nothing hut SQUELCH and SNOW, with vague hints of VOICES underneath.
HELEN
Looks like we're out of luck with the--
A BOLT OF LIGHTNING smacks into a tree ahead of them with a BOOM. The trunk nearly EXPLODES, hits of wood fly everywhere. The tree drops into the road.
Brady SLAMS on the brake. The tires lock up. The car skids on the slick road, toward the fallen tree.
Wrenching at the steering wheel, Brady manages to guide the sliding car toward the shoulder, but not quite enough--the front bumper grazes the tree, turning the car sideways in the road. Finally it stops.
Brady and Helen are frozen, their bodies still locked in crash positions. Slowly they loosen up.
HELEN
(looking out the window at the front bumper)
I hope the Bureau sprang for insurance.
BRADY
Christ, look at it out there.
Outside the windows, it looks like the apocalypse--rain pounding down, wind tearing at the land. As they watch, hailstones begin to THUMP against the car's body.
HELEN
Is that hail?
BRADY
That's it--I give up. There's no way I'm driving another three hours to Cinci in this shit. And then get on a fucking plane ? Fuck that.
HELEN
Listen...
They sit, silent, still for a few seconds.
BRADY
I don't hear--
HELEN
SHHH!
From outside we hear a FAINT ROARING sound, slowly increasing in volume.
HELEN
I know that sound.
The ROARING gets a little louder. Brady recognizes it, too.
BRADY
Okay, let's go. My obit is not going to say "FBI agent was too stupid to get the fuck off the road."
He gets the car turned around and starts heading back toward Crampton.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - NIGHT
The rental car's headlights barely cut through the torrential rain.
INT. CAR
Brady concentrating on the road. Helen drifting off. Through the windshield, we see the yellow house, brightly lit, like a beacon in the storm.
BRADY
Sweeten?
HELEN
What?
BRADY
Do you think we should pick up Ricky?
HELEN
Why? So the two of you can swap Freemason theories? I don't feel up to another performance of the Ricky Show tonight. Besides, he said it himself--he's not going anywhere.
BRADY
I guess. We can swing by and pick him up on our way out of town tomorrow.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - MIGHT
The car drives past the yellow house, its tail lights disappearing into the storm. A second later, the lights inside the yellow house ALL GO OUT.
EXT. OASIS MOTEL PARKING LOT - NIGHT
The rental car pulls into the parking lot, dripping with rain. Crampton is bone dry, like the storm never even happened.
INT. OASIS MOTEL LOBBY
A cigarette machine, the kind with the pull-knobs. Two faux-leather chairs, cracked by age and sunlight. A gumball dispenser, with a small sign saying the proceeds benefit the local Knights of Columbus.
Brady and Helen enter, their overnight bags over their shoulders.
HELEN
We'll be lucky if anyone's here to check us in.
Brady RINGS the service bell.
TOURIST
EXT. YELLOW HOUSE - NIGHT
A strong wind has kicked up. Brady and Helen get into their car.
INT. CAR
Brady and Helen both need a few seconds to get their thoughts straight.
BRADY
Well, Sweeten, what do you think of that ?
Silence from Helen.
BRADY
Yeah, that's what I think, too. So what do we do now?
HELEN
I say we bag it and head home.
BRADY
What do we tell the chief?
HELEN
Fuck him. I've had it with this case. I'm tired.
BRADY
Okay. We'll just report that Ricky was a dead end. All right?
HELEN
Just drive.
EXT. YELLOW HOUSE - NIGHT
The agents' car pulls out of the driveway just as the rain starts. Ricky watches from the doorway. A look crosses his face--hope, perhaps--and a second later is gone, replaced by weary resignation. He closes the door.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - NIGHT
The rental car, heading out of town, away from Crampton. The storm has gotten pretty bad--rain is slashing across the road nearly horizontally, throwing bits of debris around.
Helen turns on the radio. STATIC. She zips up the dial.
Nothing hut SQUELCH and SNOW, with vague hints of VOICES underneath.
HELEN
Looks like we're out of luck with the--
A BOLT OF LIGHTNING smacks into a tree ahead of them with a BOOM. The trunk nearly EXPLODES, hits of wood fly everywhere. The tree drops into the road.
Brady SLAMS on the brake. The tires lock up. The car skids on the slick road, toward the fallen tree.
Wrenching at the steering wheel, Brady manages to guide the sliding car toward the shoulder, but not quite enough--the front bumper grazes the tree, turning the car sideways in the road. Finally it stops.
Brady and Helen are frozen, their bodies still locked in crash positions. Slowly they loosen up.
HELEN
(looking out the window at the front bumper)
I hope the Bureau sprang for insurance.
BRADY
Christ, look at it out there.
Outside the windows, it looks like the apocalypse--rain pounding down, wind tearing at the land. As they watch, hailstones begin to THUMP against the car's body.
HELEN
Is that hail?
BRADY
That's it--I give up. There's no way I'm driving another three hours to Cinci in this shit. And then get on a fucking plane ? Fuck that.
HELEN
Listen...
They sit, silent, still for a few seconds.
BRADY
I don't hear--
HELEN
SHHH!
From outside we hear a FAINT ROARING sound, slowly increasing in volume.
HELEN
I know that sound.
The ROARING gets a little louder. Brady recognizes it, too.
BRADY
Okay, let's go. My obit is not going to say "FBI agent was too stupid to get the fuck off the road."
He gets the car turned around and starts heading back toward Crampton.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - NIGHT
The rental car's headlights barely cut through the torrential rain.
INT. CAR
Brady concentrating on the road. Helen drifting off. Through the windshield, we see the yellow house, brightly lit, like a beacon in the storm.
BRADY
Sweeten?
HELEN
What?
BRADY
Do you think we should pick up Ricky?
HELEN
Why? So the two of you can swap Freemason theories? I don't feel up to another performance of the Ricky Show tonight. Besides, he said it himself--he's not going anywhere.
BRADY
I guess. We can swing by and pick him up on our way out of town tomorrow.
EXT. ROUTE 7 - MIGHT
The car drives past the yellow house, its tail lights disappearing into the storm. A second later, the lights inside the yellow house ALL GO OUT.
EXT. OASIS MOTEL PARKING LOT - NIGHT
The rental car pulls into the parking lot, dripping with rain. Crampton is bone dry, like the storm never even happened.
INT. OASIS MOTEL LOBBY
A cigarette machine, the kind with the pull-knobs. Two faux-leather chairs, cracked by age and sunlight. A gumball dispenser, with a small sign saying the proceeds benefit the local Knights of Columbus.
Brady and Helen enter, their overnight bags over their shoulders.
HELEN
We'll be lucky if anyone's here to check us in.
Brady RINGS the service bell.
TOURIST
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