I stopped and looked around. I didn’t see a marquee or a ticket window.

“Here what is?”

“The movies.” Karter gestured between two of the houses that had been turned into shops. Spanning the alley was a metal sign that said Theater, and beyond it was a set of double doors leading into what looked like the back of an old house.

“For real?”

“What? You were expecting something else?”

“Are you telling me this theater is in someone’s house?”

Karter laughed. “Come on.”

We passed a few people who were gathered outside on our way into the lobby, which wasn’t much more than a small room. A guy was working a popcorn machine that looked like it was made at the same time movies were invented. When he saw us, he quickly walked behind the counter.

“Vampires?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” said Karter. “You seen it? Is it any good?”

“It’s really good,” the guy said. “A little bloody but in a really artistic, thoughtful way.”

I glanced sideways at Karter and he grinned.

“Let me get two tickets, then,” Karter said.

I took out my debit card to pay but Karter was already handing the guy a couple of twenties. “I got you.”

He paid for our tickets, two small bags of popcorn, and two bottled waters, since apparently soda wasn’t allowed in the theater.

“Enjoy the show!” The guy gave an awkward salute and went back to tending the popcorn machine. He clearly took his job very seriously.

We went down a short hallway decorated with posters of old movies and vintage film reels.

As we entered the seating area I glanced at Karter. “There are, like, twenty seats in here.”

“Twenty-four,” Karter said. “And all empty. Take your pick.”

There were four rows of six seats each, and the screen was so close I could have thrown a piece of popcorn and hit it. I picked two seats in the middle of the second row.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”

Karter chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “It’s nice though, right?”

I looked around as two guys came in and sat in the last row.

“It’s different,” I said.

A few minutes in, the lights dimmed. The screen lit up as the movie started. I picked at my popcorn. It was too buttery, and I really wished I had a cold soda to wash it down.

Karter finished his popcorn and kept looking at my bag.

“Want some?” I whispered.

He laughed. “Sharing is caring. Thanks.”

We huddled together, trying to keep our laughter as quiet as possible, especially since the character on screen was being torn to shreds by some kind of undead creature. Bad timing, but I was feeling happier than I had in months.

Halfway through the movie, the door at the back of the theater opened and two more people came in. They were dressed in dark clothing and one of them wore a baseball hat, the bill covering his face. They sat directly in front of us.

“What’s the point?” Karter whispered. “Movie’s halfway over.”

One of the men in the back row cleared his throat. I turned to look at him, but he stared ahead, avoiding my eyes. The theater turned pitch-black as the characters on screen entered an underground crypt. As my eyes adjusted to the dark and Karter finished off the last of my popcorn—muttering things like “hell nah” and “stupid” under his breath—I noticed that one of the men in the front row wasn’t paying attention to what was happening on the screen. He had turned so that he was looking toward the side of the theater, his left ear tipped toward me.

The screen flickered, bathing the seats in bright light as the characters moved back outside. The man turned to the screen, pushing his hat low on his forehead. I gripped Karter’s arm. Something wasn’t right. Karter followed my gaze to the man in the front row. Concern spread over his face.

One of the men in the back row stood up and moved to the aisle, and another man in front of us cleared his throat.

Karter was suddenly on his feet, spilling my water across the floor. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit but the man in the aisle blocked our path.

“Wanna move?” Karter asked, annoyance ringing clear in his voice.

The man crossed his arms over his chest. Karter went to push past him, but the man grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Karter shoved his hands off him as I stepped back and bumped into someone else. One of the men in the front row was right behind me. My body tensed.

Fight or flight.

I lifted my knee and drove my foot back as hard as I could. I palmed my Mace, flipped off the safety, and spun around, spraying him directly in the face. He sank to his knees, coughing and gagging. The other man in the aisle rushed Karter, but he ducked out of the way and the dude crashed into the wall. I grabbed Karter’s arm and rushed to the exit.

“Get her!” someone yelled from behind us.

Karter stumbled, knocking his shoulder into the doorframe and pinballing off. I grabbed the back of his shirt to steady him and we raced down the alley. When we hit Market Street, people were still milling around in ones and twos but the street was mostly clear.

“We gotta get out of here!” I shouted.

Karter grabbed my hand. “C’mon!”

We sprinted to the truck and dove inside. Karter fumbled with his keys. Through the rear window I saw the four men running out of the alley, looking up and down the street.

“Go, go, go!” I screamed.

Karter threw the truck in drive and we lurched forward, turning off the main road and speeding toward the house as fast as his ancient pickup could take us. The entire cab rattled and the engine knocked loudly as we picked up speed.

“I gotta slow down,” Karter said. “This rickety shit might fall apart.”

“What the hell is going on?” I fumbled with my phone, dropping it onto the floor of the truck, where it slid under the seat. “Shit!”

“I—I don’t know,” Karter said. “What are we gonna do?”

As we approached the straightaway that led to my house a pair of headlights in the oncoming lane flooded the cab of the truck. I still didn’t see anyone behind us but we’d slowed to thirty miles an hour and the engine kept faltering like it might stall. I didn’t want to get caught on the road alone.

“Flash your brights!” I yelled. “Flash your high beams!”