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The concession stand was unmanned. Gary nonetheless walked up to the counter, propped both elbows on the glass, and waited. A moment later, the kid from the booth came walking around him to take a position behind the register.

"Help you?"

"Yeah," Gary said, scanning the price list on the wall behind the kid: "Large buttered popcorn and a medium drink- no ice."

The kid, now an automaton, picked up a bag and stepped over to the popcorn machine, where he started shoveling scoopfuls of freshly popped kernels into the bag. Taking a single step to one side, he held the bag out and ran melted butter over the popcorn; repeated the process; placed the bag on the counter without a word. Gary watched with a slightly bemused expression as the kid took a paper cup from an inverted stack and began to fill it with soft drink.

Guess he's burnt out, Gary thought. The kid's eyes looked glazed. He placed the drink on the counter, fitted a plastic lid on it. Gary handed him a ten and the kid made change, which he handed over with his usual aplomb. Gary put the change in his pocket and plucked and peeled a straw from a plastic holder, stabbed it through the plastic lid, and scooped up his goodies.

"Thanks," he offered. The kid was staring out at the falling rain and didn't respond. Maybe he's deaf, Gary thought as he walked to the auditorium door; it would certainly explain his less-than-enthusiastic manner. Carefully balancing his booty, Gary opened the door and went in.

The house lights were still up and as he walked down to the fourth row (which had always been his favorite spot), he glanced at the other patrons who were already seated. An eclectic mix, male and female, scattered among the seats. He recognized none of the faces that turned to watch him as he passed. Coming to the fourth row, he moved into the aisle and, carefully counting seats, sat in the middle.

The seats were as plush and comfortable as he remembered them being. He settled back, wedging his drink into the folded seat next to him. He stared up at the curtains that hid the forty-foot screen. Size does matter, he thought. He smiled at his own little joke and dug into the popcorn.

It was a genuinely spooky movie, with some genuinely spooky music. The main character was a hard-nosed tank commander who was being sent into the desert to find the hiding place of a group of aliens threatening the "Earthers" who were colonizing their planet. There were some creepy scenes showing the aliens haunting the colonists, and Gary felt that the price of his ticket had been money well spent. The movie delivered; so much so, in fact, that he found himself glancing at the empty seats all around him, half expecting to see one of the aliens seated nearby.

Up on the screen, the tank commander was walking slowly through the half-buried ruins of an alien city, looking for signs of life. It was a suspenseful sequence, with a couple of well-timed jolts that caused Gary to start in his seat. And suddenly the picture froze. Began to melt. The film broke.

Shit, Gary thought, twisting around in his seat to look up at the projection booth. He had been engrossed in the fantasy, and now the spell was broken. He couldn't see the projectionist, but he could hear something: it sounded like a struggle of some sort. Grappling figures, little more than silhouettes from where he sat, appeared briefly behind the projector, fell out of sight. One hand hovering uncertainly over his bag of popcorn, Gary was staring. Other people were turning to look. The sounds of the struggle were clearer now.

"No," somebody shouted up in the projection booth: "No!"

Gary rose, slowly. There was a sudden, strangled cry, then an abrupt silence. Now everyone in the theater was up and staring toward the projection booth. The moment held. Gary swallowed.

With an abruptness that was startling, the door to aisle one burst open. Gary recognized the sparse frame of the kid from the ticket booth as he came stumbling down the aisle, one hand clutching his throat. He was gurgling. Lurching to a stop, he caught at a seat back for support and half turned to look back up the aisle. A woman standing near him cried out in horror.

"Oh, my God! He's bleeding!"

The kid turned toward the woman and Gary could see the dark, oily streaks of blood gushing down his arm. The kid reached out to the woman for help, but she was backing away, screaming now at the top of her lungs. Gary dropped his popcorn and was about to go to the kid's aid when the door at the top of the aisle burst open again.

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