The Reawakening
Ken Gillingham sipped his coffee and looked out the bay window of his two hundred-year-old home at the red maples, hickories, birches and sumacs that lined his street and dotted his property. Their leaves were just beginning to change color; they would not reach their peak for several weeks yet. Ordinarily, autumn was his favorite season of the year. He thought of it as Mother Nature having one last hurrah before settling down to sleep beneath a wintry blanket of snow and ice. This year, however—ugh! He did not even want to think about it.
Instead, he preferred to reflect upon the historical charm of the nearly four-centuries-old New England town. Although the residents of Old Forge managed to keep up with the times and modern technology, they still retained the infrastructure of the past. A majority of the homes in town were built in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and a handful dated back to the seventeenth. The latter were no longer lived in but kept as museums. Of the sprinkling of houses that were erected in the twentieth century, they were all designed to look old so as to fit in with their neighbors. People often joke that Old Forge is the land that time forgot, but no one wished to change a single window shutter, shaker shingle or finial pediment.
It was this quaint, old-fashioned charm that attracted them in the first place. Ken tried not to think about them, but it was hard not to. Like a swarm of locusts, they would soon descend upon the helpless New England town. Every motel, inn and bed and breakfast for miles around would be packed with them; and the streets and shops of Old Forge would be overrun by them. "Them" were not the leaf peepers, the tourists snapping photographs of the fall foliage and taking selfies in front of the town's authentic covered bridge. Such visitors were a fact of life in New England, and most residents had gotten used to them. Some Yankees actually welcomed them since the tourists boosted the local economy.
No, the "them" Ken tried hard not to think about were the horror movie afficionados, to whom Old Forge had become a Mecca. When a film production location scout first contacted the town council in 1980 about shooting a movie in the idyllic New England setting, the mayor readily agreed. He did not think to ask what type of movie it would be. Assuming it was a historical piece set during in the years leading up to, during or immediately following the Revolutionary War, he was surprised to learn it was to be a low-budget horror film: The Awakening of the Zombies.
For nine weeks, life in Old Forge was disrupted. Streets were periodically closed, trailers were parked on the town common and residents were recruited as extras. Most of the citizens, including Ken himself—then a young man in his twenties—were caught up in the novelty of the experience. Their only disappointment was that no big-name movie stars appeared in the cast. But then, who would have expected Harrison Ford or Jack Nicholson to appear in a zombie movie? When filming was concluded, the crew packed up, the trailers drove away and life returned to normal. The people of Old Forge were left with fond memories and stories they would someday tell their grandchildren.
Then came Y2K. To most Americans, it meant the millennium bug and the possibility of total meltdown. It was anticipated that computers would crash the moment clocks went from 11:59 on December 31, 1999 to 12:00 on January 1, 2000. Survivalists stockpiled food and built shelters, and many fundamentalists preached about the end times and Armageddon. Needless to say, in hindsight, it all seemed fairly ridiculous. But to the residents of Old Forge, the year 2000 brought a different form of calamity: it brought them.
Ken was never sure exactly whose idea the initial gathering was. No one individual took credit for it. The first time he became aware of it was when he saw the poster tacked on a telephone pole outside the post office announcing a party to be held on the common, celebrating the twentieth anniversary of The Awakening of the Zombies. A local rock band was to perform, refreshments would be available and a cash prize would be awarded for the best zombie costume.
The celebration was such a success, that a second one was held the following year and each year thereafter. As word spread, attendance grew. Cottage industries began to spring up in Old Forge. Enterprising residents conducted tours of the filming locations: Plowden's Funeral Parlor (where the opening scene was shot), Birchwood cemetery (where the film's zombies first came to life), the high school, the town hall, the Methodist church and the covered bridge. Budding entrepreneurs also produced postcards, bumper stickers, tee shirts, key chains and magnets, all proudly proclaiming "I survived the awakening of the zombies in Old Forge."
For two decades, Ken endured the annual invasion of the film's fans. This year, the movie's fortieth anniversary, would mean the largest crowd of all. For two full days, a circus-like atmosphere would prevail—what some residents were calling a Mardi Gras of the Macabre. To kick off the celebration, a costume parade of zombies would march (or stagger) down Main Street. There would be a caravan of food trucks, souvenir booths, games and live music. As an added attraction, members of the original cast would appear to sign autographs, answer questions and pose for photos—all for a price, of course.
This place will be a madhouse! Ken thought, watching a deer and her fawn timidly tiptoe across his front lawn. Maybe I ought to go visit my sister in New Jersey that weekend.
Yet such was the perverse nature of humans, that he wanted to remain in town despite dreading the chaos that he was certain the weekend would bring.
* * *
The temperature on Friday evening was seasonal, which meant there was a pronounced chill in the air. Ken put on a jacket and the flat tweed cap he brought home with him from a long-ago trip to Ireland. As he walked along Main Street, hell-bent on enjoying the calm before the storm, the recently retired school teacher waved to the drivers of many of the cars that passed him by. Having been born and raised in Old Forge, he knew most of the people who lived there. Before retiring, he spent his adult life introducing the town's high school students to the fascinating subject of mathematics and trying to impart to those young minds the thrill of factoring a quadratic equation and the joy of finding a hypotenuse of a right triangle using the Pythagorean Theorem.
Is it my imagination or are there more cars than normal? he asked himself when he noticed there was not a single vacant parking space in front of the Paul Revere, the local eatery.
He walked into the crowded diner and saw that, among the Friday night regulars, there were many unfamiliar faces.
Oh, good God! They're here already, he thought, wondering if he should turn around and head back home, especially since all the tables and booths were taken.
Before he could act on his impulse, one of the waitresses, a mother of three and a former student—one of the many who believed algebra was a complete waste of time—greeted him.
"There's a seat at the counter, Mr. Gillingham. Better grab it before someone else does."
He briefly considered his options: go home and put a Swanson TV dinner in the microwave or cram himself between two strangers at the counter and dine on the Paul Revere patty melt with a side order of French fries, cooked the way he liked them: well-done with the skins on. The patty melt won out over the frozen Salisbury steak.
"Would you like a menu, Mr. Gillingham?" asked the young man behind the counter.
"No, thank you. I already know what I want. I'll have the patty melt and a diet Coke."
While Ken was waiting for his meal, the man to his right finished his tall stack of pancakes (the Paul Revere served breakfast all day long), picked up his check and walked toward the cashier. Within moments of his leaving, another customer sat down.
"How's the food here?" she asked, correctly assuming Ken was a local and familiar with the quality of the cuisine.
"It's the best in town," he answered truthfully. "Not that there's much competition. It's either the Paul Revere or Stoney's Tavern."
"I would have thought that in forty years, it would have gotten a McDonalds or a Burger King," the stranger laughed.
"Oh, you're one of them," he said.
"Them?"
"One of those people who come here for the annual gathering of zombie fanatics."
"No. I'm not one of them. I was here forty years ago, but this is the first time I've come back."
"Were you connected with the making of the movie in any way?"
"You could say that. I was part of the cast. My name is Charlene Parke."
Having seen the movie at least a dozen times—not for its scare factor but because he liked seeing his home town on film—he was familiar with the name. Some would say Charlene Parke was the star of the film, but since she made only the one movie before vanishing into the vast limbo of "where are they now?" celebrities, star was not a word Ken would use. She did, however, have the lead role. Hers was the character who lived in the end after having had her friends and family devoured by zombies. Like Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween and Sigourney Weaver in Alien, she fought for her life and survived.
"I know," she said, reading the expression on his face. "You would never have recognized me."
He wanted to be a gentleman and say that she looked as though she had not aged a day, but she spared him having to lie.
"I get that all the time," Charlene continued. "What do people expect? I'm not a twenty-two-year-old kid anymore. It's been forty years since I made that movie."
At that point, the young man behind the counter appeared carrying his patty melt and diet Coke.
"Mmm! That looks good," the actress declared. "I think I'll have the same."
During the course of the meal, the two diners spoke about trivial subjects. It was more chitchat than true conversation, but there was enough substance in their discussion for Ken to realize that Charlene was an interesting and intelligent woman. By the time he finished his last ketchup-laden French fry, the lifelong bachelor admitted to himself that he wanted to get to know her better. He was about to ask her if she would like to have a drink with him at Stoney's Tavern, when she rose from her seat.
"It's been nice meeting you," she declared with a smile.
"You're leaving? You haven't finished your patty melt."
"I have a previous appointment. Besides I'm not really that hungry."
"Maybe I'll see you again this weekend."
"Probably. This is a small town, after all."
With a last smile at the retired high school math teacher, Charlene left the Paul Revere; and another former student, now running the family hardware business, took her seat.
* * *
Early Saturday morning, not long after sunrise, Ken put a harness on his greyhound, Hermes, and took him for a walk. Normally, there were few people out at that hour, especially on the weekends. That day, however, there was a great deal of activity in and around the common. More than two dozen food trucks had arrived since the previous evening. Souvenir vendors were erecting tents and booths, unpacking their wares and stocking their shelves. The official starting time was set for ten, but the mobile cooks and street sellers were eager to rope in whatever early birds they could find.
As Ken and Hermes did their usual lap around the perimeter of the common, they passed three more food trucks hoping to find a good parking space. One offered funnel cakes, fritters and deep-fried Twinkies, Oreos and Snickers.
If the zombies don't get you, the cholesterol will, Ken thought. Still, I wouldn't mind trying a deep-friend Snickers bar.
He found it ironic that he had been dreading this weekend for some time. Now that it was here, he was excited by the carnival-like atmosphere. (Or was it the prospect of seeing Charlene Parke again that caused his change of heart?) Either way, he took his dog home, made himself a healthy breakfast—no deep-fried foods of any kind—and puttered about the house until nine forty-five.
After examining his appearance in the bedroom mirror and passing inspection, he walked down Main Street to the usual chorus of "Hi, Mr. Gillingham," "Hello, Mr. Gillingham," and "Yo! What's up, Mr. Gillingham?"
Ken suddenly stopped short to gawk at the crowd of people on the common.
It looks like Times Square on New Year's Eve!
It was an exaggeration, to be sure, but still a good analogy.
"What the ...?" he cried, as a teenager gliding down Main Street on a skateboard nearly ran into him.
"Sorry, Mr. Gillingham," the boy apologized. "I was sending a text to my friend and didn't realize you were standing still."
"Yes, well, I suppose I shouldn't have stopped like that. I don't have brake lights on my rear end. Just the same, you don't want to get into the habit of texting while driving. Remember that when you get your license."
"Sure thing, Mr. Gillingham. Have a nice day."
A minute later the teen was sailing along on his four wheels, his fingers once again dancing across the keyboard of his iPhone.
With the parade scheduled to start at noon, students from the cosmetology school in the neighboring town were busy applying makeup to faces to turn living humans into reanimated corpses. A group of citizens were selling old clothes that had originally been meant for the Salvation Army clothing bin. These pants, shirts and dresses were purposely torn and caked with dirt to give them that "buried in" appearance.
Although no one actually crawled as the zombies made their way along the parade route, most of the participants walked with a stiff gait, many dragging one leg behind them. They kept their arms rigid, and their heads were often leaning on a shoulder. Unlike most of Old Forge's parades, there were no marching bands, no politicians riding in classic convertibles and waving to the voters, no fire engines and no organization throwing out handfuls of cheap candy to the children along the route. There was, however, a float. The high school art teacher had designed a graveyard on wheels with Styrofoam tombstones and fake trees and bushes. Riding on the float were three guests of honor: Thad Lehmann, Geri Ireton and Chaz Woolner, all of whom had appeared in the film.
I wonder why Charlene Parke isn't up there with them. She had the lead role.
Although disappointed at not seeing the actress again, he had to admit he enjoyed the parade. It was silly and frivolous, but it was amusing and fun at the same time. He imagined many parents felt the same way when they watched their young children perform in school plays and concerts. It was like seeing a fourth-grade production of Macbeth.
Once the parade passed by, Ken headed toward the food trucks that encircled the common. To his dismay, so did hundreds of other people.
What do I feel like eating? he asked himself, valiantly trying to avoid the deep-fried snack truck.
There was certainly a lot to choose from. Every international cuisine seemed to be represented: Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Thai, Jamaican, French, German, Mexican. There was even a truck painted like a Union Jack that sold tea and scones, fish and chips, bangers and mash, steak and kidney pie and haggis. After narrowing his choices down to pepperoni pizza, a pulled pork sandwich and Polish sausage, he chose the corresponding truck that had the shortest line. Ten minutes later, he was sitting at a picnic table with a plate of kielbasa and pierogis. As Ken ate his lunch, his eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. He had yet to see Charlene among them.
Maybe the promoters are deliberately keeping her under wraps, waiting for the appropriate moment to reveal her.
After finishing the last of his food, he walked toward the wooden stage that had been built for the celebration. The three actors from the float were there, conducting a Q&A. He thought it odd that not a single member of the cast went on to have a successful acting career. Some of Hollywood's greatest stars once appeared in horror films. Johnny Depp's first role was that of a victim in A Nightmare on Elm Street, Leonardo DiCaprio was in Critters 3 and Tom Hanks appeared in He Knows You're Alone. Yet although The Awakening of the Zombies became a cult classic, it produced no Matthew McConaughey, Hillary Swank, Kevin Bacon, George Clooney, Ben Affleck, Amy Adams or Renée Zellweger.
Of the three actors on the stage, Thad Lehmann spent only two months playing a minor character in a soap opera before going back to school, earning his degree and taking a steady job as a computer programmer. Geri Ireton, after a guest spot in a single episode of Law & Order, married her college sweetheart, moved to Pennsylvania and raised four children. Chaz Woolner's was the only face people still remembered, but not for his movie role. Although few knew him by name, they recognized him as Captain Ahab from the dozens of Seafood Shanty commercials he appeared in.
Ken listened to the actors' behind-the-scenes accounts for more than two hours, hoping Charlene Parke would eventually appear on stage. By the time the Q&A came to an end, the sun had set and the crowd was heading back toward the food trucks. Since a music concert was the only event scheduled for the evening, the former teacher decided to call it a day.
Time for me to go home and feed Hermes.
* * *
There was no parade on the second day of the celebration, but many people donned their zombie attire and face paint anyway. At the request of Father Bennett, pastor of the Methodist church, the first event would not start until noon, thus creating no conflict with Sunday services.
As Ken enjoyed a second cup of coffee, he read the day's schedule printed in the local newspaper. There was to be a costume contest for the best-dressed zombie; a screening of the original movie with live commentary by Thad Lehmann, Geri Ireton and Chaz Woolner; and more autographs, photo ops and live music throughout the afternoon and evening. For those movie buffs who were interested in the people behind the cameras, the director of The Awakening of the Zombies was to make an appearance. Although the producer died ten year earlier, his son, now a filmmaker as well, would also be present.
"There's no mention of Charlene Parke," Ken said with disappointment.
He found it odd that she should be in Old Forge as a spectator and not as a featured guest.
"I don't suppose it's any odder than having people from New York, New Jersey and Connecticut walking around the common made up like moldy corpses and eating deep-fried Twinkies."
As the retired teacher washed his coffee cup out at the sink, his greyhound waited patiently by the door.
"Okay, boy. Just let me get your harness."
Fifteen minutes later, when he and Hermes were returning from their constitutional, Ken saw a car drive down the street from the direction of the covered bridge. Ordinarily, he would not have given the matter a second thought since both tourists and locals liked to visit the scenic spot. And, since it was one of the filming locations in the movie, the zombie fans would not want to miss the opportunity of taking a selfie there. This particular car, though, was hard to miss. It was an electric blue 1965 Ford Mustang, and it appeared to be in mint condition. What took him by surprise, however, was not the age and condition of the car or the direction from which it came; it was the driver. Unless the math teacher's eyes deceived him, Charlene Parke had been behind the wheel.
At least she's still here, he thought. Hopefully, I'll run in to her at some point today.
As he placed a bowl of Kibbles 'n Bits on the floor for Hermes, he chastised himself for his foolishness. Why was he so interested in a woman he knew next-to-nothing about? In all likelihood, she was probably married. Still, when he walked out the door and headed toward the common, he could not stop thinking about the actress and looking for the blue Mustang.
Of the several hundred people dressed as zombies, only twenty-three participated in the costume contest. The judges, the three featured actors from the movie, chose a college student from New Hampshire, who dressed as a zombie bride, to the win the prize for best costume. Ken, who had opted for the pepperoni pizza this time, was already in line at the food truck when the winner was announced.
Damn it! he thought as he handed a ten to the overworked cook. I think that was her.
When he finally received his change, he stuffed it in his pocket without bothering to count it. Carefully navigating a course through the long lines of hungry zombies in front the food trucks, he searched for Charlene, but he lost her in the crowd.
That's the second time I've seen her today. Hopefully, the third time will be the charm.
After finishing his two slices of pizza, he briskly walked around the common, examining all the faces he passed.
"Are you looking for someone, Mr. Gillingham?" another former student, now a member of the Old Forge police force, asked.
"I thought I saw someone I knew."
"Living or dead?" the young police officer laughed.
"Hopefully living, but it's hard to tell in this crowd."
Two hours later he gave up his search. Frustrated at his failure to find Charlene Parke, he surrendered to temptation and bought a deep-fried Snickers bar.
My doctor wouldn't approve, but the hell with it!
Like a sheep, he then followed the herd toward the wooden stage where the director was due to appear at any moment.
I might as well hear what he has to say.
Most of the filmmaker's comments were anecdotal in nature. Few of his remarks were on the technical aspects of his profession. After taking a number of questions from the audience, he left the stage and returned to his trailer. Although few people had an interest in hearing the son of the late producer speak, they remained as a matter of courtesy. Ken was barely paying attention as Jayden Thurlow when introduced.
"One question people invariably asked my father was why has there never been a sequel to The Awakening of the Zombies. It's one I now hear myself, and it's a good question, given the number of sequels that have been made to Halloween, Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. Well, it's my pleasure to appear before you now and tell you all that not only am I going to produce a sequel to my father's classic movie, but that I'm also negotiating with your mayor and council to have it filmed right here in Old Forge."
Those that had actually been paying attention to the producer's announcement applauded and cheered. Those that had not asked others around them what the young man had said.
"Yes, if all goes well, the zombies will return to the streets of Old Forge."
Ken's pulse quickened. Would Charlene Parke be cast in the sequel? Not as the innocent, doe-eyed ingenue, but in a more mature supporting role?
"I'm not at liberty to discuss any details yet, but I can tell you the title of the movie: The Reawakening of the Zombies, which I think is much better than The Awakening of the Zombies Two."
Thanks to Jayden Thurlow, the fortieth anniversary celebration of his father's movie ended on a high note. Both residents and visitors were delighted by the prospect of a sequel. Even Ken was excited about the announcement—despite the fact that it meant he would have to endure continued yearly onslaughts by them.
* * *
Come Monday morning, the food trucks were gone, the visitors had departed and life returned to some semblance of normality. Sanitation crews were removing the overflowing dumpsters from the common, and volunteers were picking up litter off the ground. A sense of excitement could still be felt in Old Forge.
"I'll tell you what," one neighbor told Ken when he returned from his morning walk with Hermes. "If the mayor doesn't approve Jayden Thurlow's proposal, I'll vote for the Republican candidate in the next election."
"Zombies ... Republicans ...," Ken laughed, "seems to me they're one and the same nowadays."
After saying goodbye to his neighbor, he and Hermes walked up the driveway to their front door. As he was getting his housekey out of his pocket, he saw the electric blue Mustang turn the corner onto his street, no doubt on its way to the covered bridge. He hurried up and shut the greyhound in the house and jogged down the road after the Ford. When he saw Charlene Parke standing at the opening of the bridge, his heart raced—and not only because of his increased cardio activity. He came to a short and sudden stop when he realized the actress was about to jump into the swiftly moving river below.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Don't do it."
"Go away and leave me alone."
"I can't."
Ken felt like Leonardo DiCaprio trying to prevent Kate Winslet from taking a high dive off the stern of the Titanic.
"Whatever you're trying to run away from can't be that bad, not to lose your life over."
Charlene laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound.
"That's what you think," she said.
Nevertheless, she stepped back from the precipice.
"You look familiar," she said. "I know. You're the man at the diner the other night."
"Yes," he answered, flattered that she had remembered him.
"Look, I live right down the street. Why don't you come back to my house, and I'll fix you a drink? I can make you some coffee, tea or something stronger, if you prefer."
"All right."
They drove back to his house, and she parked the Mustang in his driveway.
"What would you like?" Ken asked as his guest sat down in the living room.
"Coffee will be fine."
"Cream and sugar?"
"Yes."
He did not ply her with questions, for which she was grateful. When she was halfway through her coffee, she broke the silence.
"That's the fourth time I went to that old bridge since I arrived in Old Forge. I went Friday night, and then on Saturday and again on Sunday. This morning I finally found the courage to take the plunge. Then you show up, and I chicken out again."
"I'm glad I did."
"Don't be. I'm sure you thought saving my life was the right thing to do, but it's only a temporary victory."
"You don't plan on going back to the bridge?"
"No. That doesn't mean I won't find another way out."
"But you're only in your early sixties. You could live another ...."
Charlene cut him off with a short and direct explanation. She made no attempt to soften her words, believing it was better to rip off a bandage than slowly peel it off.
"I'm dying."
"I'm sorry. But that's all the more reason to make the most of the time you have left."
"This isn't the movies where heroines die a nice, neat death, lying on a bed in a lace negligee, with their hair done and their faces made up. I won't just close my eyes and drift off to a peaceful eternal slumber. In real life, death can be a nasty, messy business. Despite all the medications I'm taking, the pain can still be unbearable at times."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"You could make me another cup of coffee," she said, trying to dispel the gloom her announcement created.
When Ken came back to the living room with a second cup, he saw Charlene standing beside his television, browsing through a stack of DVDs.
"Your movie is in there."
"The Awakening of the Zombies? I haven't seen that picture in forty years."
"Why don't we watch it then?" he suggested, hoping it might take her mind off another suicide attempt.
"All right."
As the eerie soundtrack played over the opening credits, Ken asked the actress about her short-lived acting career.
"Why didn't you ever make another film?"
"Because this one was so awful. Honestly, I don't know why it's as popular as it is."
"True, it's not Citizen Kane, but it wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen."
"Maybe not, but I'm sure it ranks up there with whatever movie is. When I sat in the theater watching it for the first and only time, I decided a career change was in order. I always had an interest in flower arranging, so I opened up my own florist shop. It did quite well, but when I got sick, the medical bills started piling up and I was forced to sell the business."
The credits were over; and the opening scene, shot in front of Plowden's Funeral Parlor, was of six pallbearers carrying a casket down the stairs and putting it into a waiting hearse. It was not until the second scene that Charlene Parke made her appearance in the film.
"God! I was so young," she exclaimed. "And thin. I think I was a size six back then. Too bad I couldn't act."
"If you dislike the movie so much, why did you come to the anniversary celebration?" Ken asked.
"Curiosity, I suppose. Or maybe it was a matter of wanting to relive my past."
On the television, the action switched from Thad Lehmann, Geri Ireton and Chaz Woolner drinking and cavorting at a raucous frat house party to a deserted cemetery. The camera zoomed in on a grave where the hand of a long-dead corpse was breaking through the ground.
"Notice that at no time does the movie explain how the zombies got out of their coffins," the actress pointed out.
"I guess the screenwriter wants to leave it up to the viewer's imagination. Of course, being a math teacher, I don't have much of one myself. I simply accept it as a given fact. If the zombie rises from his grave, he must have had some way of getting out of his coffin."
"A math teacher, huh? No mystery, no fantasy, just facts and equations."
"It makes life simpler that way."
From that point on, the movie showed one gory, violent death after another as the zombies ate their way through the population of the peaceful New England town.
Charlene is right about one thing, Ken thought as his head nodded from boredom. This is an awful movie.
The whimpering of his greyhound woke him.
"What is it, Hermes?" he asked, half asleep. "Do you have to go out?"
He opened his eyes and saw the closing credits on the screen.
I must have dozed off.
When he noticed the empty chair, he assumed Charlene had gone to the bathroom. After two cups of coffee, it was not surprising. He picked up the remote and turned off the DVD player and television. On his way to the kitchen to wash the empty mugs, he saw that the bathroom door was ajar.
"Charlene?" he called down the hallway. "Are you all right?"
There was no answer. The actress was gone and so was her electric blue Mustang.
* * *
Eight months later a Hollywood film crew once again descended upon Old Forge, this time to shoot The Reawakening of the Zombies, the long-awaited sequel. Like in the original film, the opening scene took place in front of Plowden's Funeral Parlor. Six new pallbearers were carrying out another coffin and putting it into the back of a newer model hearse.
As Ken walked Hermes along the opposite side of Main Street, he stopped to watch the filming. He found it amusing that the town had not changed in forty years but everything else had. The hairstyles, the clothing, the cars. In 1980 young people carried boomboxes; now it was iPhones.
"Nice dog."
Ken turned and saw a pretty young woman leaning forward to pet Hermes.
"Are you an extra in this picture?" he asked.
"No," she laughed. "I'm Shaniyah Bern, the star. I'm the girl who lives in the end."
"Just like Charlene Parke in the original movie."
"Only a hell of a lot younger."
To Ken, it seemed an odd thing to say since she looked to be in her early twenties, the same age Charlene had been when she played the lead role.
"Good luck to you, Shaniyah," he said as he turned to leave. "I hope the movie is a big success and that someday I'll be watching you accept an Oscar at the Academy Awards."
After entering his house and taking the greyhound's harness off, he walked into the living room, turned on the TV and inserted a DVD into the player. He sat on the couch, with Hermes curled up at his feet, and fast-forwarded past the opening credits and the funeral parlor scene until he reached the point in the movie where the main character made her appearance.
When he saw Charlene on the screen, Ken dropped the remote. It fell on the hardwood floor with a crash, and the cover of the battery compartment fell off from the impact. The retired math teacher watched the next eighty-four minutes of the movie in stunned silence. It was only when the sixty-two-year-old survivor of the zombie attack drove away from the covered bridge in her electric blue Mustang that he fully realized what he had seen.
The awful horror movie that once made her reconsider her choice of career had, in the end, proved to be Charlene Parke's salvation. By escaping into the film, The Awakening of the Zombies, the dying woman had essentially written her own sequel. Living in a world created in some Hollywood screenwriter's mind, but one that looked exactly like Old Forge, she was no longer in pain or facing imminent death.
Always a math teacher at heart, Ken Gillingham did not dwell on the question of whether anyone else would remember the young girl who starred in the picture. Or would they, like Shaniyah Bern did, believe she had been a sixty-two-year-old woman all along? He chose, instead, to simply accept the bizarre cast change as a fact. It made life simpler that way.
This story was inspired by the town of Blairstown, New Jersey. It was where the original Friday the 13th was filmed at a Boy Scout camp (Camp Nobebosco). Every Friday the 13th there is a celebration held in Blairstown. I attended one on 7/13/18 and toured the movie locations with a group that included Robbi Morgan, the actress who played Annie, the first victim.
This is not a character from The Reawakening of the Zombies. This is Salem after getting into a cat fight with the calico next door.
