Chet Williamson - Reign

It would be so easy now. Just a push, a jostle, and over the side she goes, those heels of hers cutting right through that plaster, and then down, down, all the way down to those nice soft seats below, but those seats won't be so soft from seventy feet in the air, will they? She hoped that Dennis would still be in the auditorium when it happened, not to hurt him, but so that he would see, would see her as she died, so that he would see and be free.

“… think they like it?" Ann was saying.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ted and Amy Lander, do you think they like the theatre?" The Landers, a husband and wife film production team and one of the biggest investors in Craddock, had missed the party in October. This week, however, they had flown to New York from the coast on business, and had made a day trip down to Kirkland to visit Dennis and see the theatre about which they had heard so much.

"I'm sure they do," Robin said, opening the door to the projection booth. "What's not to like? Besides, they love Dennis." She took a beat, hoping that the next line was ominous, but not so obvious that Ann would run back downstairs. "Everyone loves Dennis."

Ann made no response, and Robin led her to the end of the booth, opened another door, and went up a spiral staircase that led into the aerie above the ceiling. "Watch your head," she said. And your ass.

They came out onto a small platform, and Robin felt again for the pin, needing to know that it was there, like some magic talisman, a spell that would protect her from harm:

She dropped her pin, officer, it must have come undone, and she stepped off to get it, just stepped off before I could tell her, before I could warn her.

And the pin would be there, wouldn't it? There right beside her body. Because Robin was going to drop it just as she pushed her. She would wipe it free of her fingerprints against the lining of her pocket, hold it by the edges, take it out, push the bitch, drop the pin, and be happy again.

"Can you see all right?" Robin asked. She didn't want her to slip, not until it was time.

"Yes, it's fine."

"Hold on to the girders if you lose your balance. Even if you'd fall off, no harm done. The ceiling's solid." Robin smiled in the semi-darkness at her lie. She didn't want to scare her now. She wanted her to feel safe, so safe that she would be off her guard, so safe that she would be very much surprised when Robin pushed her. "See the bulbs? They're under those little metal plates."

"God," Ann said, "there must be hundreds of them."

"Three hundred and fifty. They're divided between ten and twenty-five watts, so all the stars aren't the same brightness. The stereopticon machine that makes the clouds is right up here. We're almost over the orchestra pit now."

This is where it would happen, because this is where she would fall the farthest. When Ann leaned over for a closer look, that was the time.

"The clouds are on a twenty-inch disc," Robin went on, trying to banish her nervousness by immersing herself in details. "The machine has a thousand-watt bulb."

"It won't go on while we're up here, will it?" Ann asked with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh no," Robin said. "There's no way. Don't worry. We're as safe as can be." The stereopticon was directly ahead of them now. Robin grasped the pin by its edges, took it from her pocket, rubbed it against her slacks. "There's the machine. Here, get ahead of me so you can see it better."

She moved carefully to the side to let the woman edge by her. Ann moved gingerly, but nothing would protect her when Robin made her move.

Robin tensed. Push, drop the pin. Just one little push to make her fall back. Push, drop the pin.

Closer now, nearly next to her…

Push. Drop the goddam pin…

Now, beside her, and she could smell the perfume, the perfume she had smelled in their bedroom, that bitch!

Push!

Now!

And as Robin drew back, she heard the grating sound of rusty metal, and the world exploded into light. Blinded, she twisted away from this new and sudden sun, twisted her body, lost her balance, flailed once with her arms, and fell.

Robin's right foot drove a hole through the plaster and the wire of the ceiling, and she felt her leg shoot down, as though she were being swallowed by some enormous, expanding mouth. She had enough presence of mind to slam her body flat against the surface, which stopped her only long enough for her to feel the plaster crumble beneath her body as she slipped further into the abyss. Her hands scrabbled at the chicken wire, trying desperately to gain a hold while her thighs, her waist slid through, and then, finally, her fingers found a grip that slowed but did not stop her.

The wire bit deeply into the pads of her fingers, and she cried in agony as the ceiling continued to crumble like thin ice. The light still burned above, and silhouetted against its fire she saw a figure reaching down for her, and thought for an instant that she had already fallen and was dead and it was her mother drawing her up into heaven.

But reality returned quickly, and she knew that it was Ann, Ann, who had saved herself from falling, and was now lying on the catwalk, her head and shoulders extended, her arms reaching down to save Robin. And she would take that hand, that help. If she could.

The plaster was crumbling more quickly now, and soon she would fall, fall through the ice and drown in the lake of air. If she let go with one hand, let go and reached up for Ann, she might live. But to let go with the abyss beneath her was more than she could bear. Still, she had to. If she wanted to live, she had to.

A whine of terror squeezed up from her throat, and she tightened the grip of her right hand. Then, with a surge of energy she had thought lost, she threw her left arm toward Ann like a swimmer starting a race.

And just as their fingers touched, she saw Dennis's face looming over Ann's shoulder, a face that glowed with its own light, a face that grinned at her in secret knowledge of what she had intended, and in delighted retribution at the result.

Her hand slipped away from Ann's.

"Reach!" Ann said. "You can do it, you can!"

But she could not. The strength was gone, driven away by the look on Dennis's face, and she hung there by one arm, by a grip slowly weakening. It was all she could do to hold on long enough to get the words out

"Dennis… you bastard…” She took a deep breath and screamed as she fell.

" You royal bastard! "

Ted and Amy Lander watched her fall. They had watched everything from the moment Robin's foot had come through the plaster, pouring a fiery light from the hole above. They had seen Robin slide through the ever-widening hole, had seen Ann reaching down for her, had seen Robin make one last effort to reach her would-be rescuer, had seen her fall.

They saw her twist in the air, heard her scream of anger and anguish, saw her land in the first row of seats, heard her spine break and her neck snap as she struck the hard metal backs of the seats. She died before they were by her side.

Ted looked upward to where the light blazed down as though from some attic of hell. He could not see the other person. "Are you all right?" he called.

"Yes," came a weak voice from overhead. "Yes…”

"Dennis?" Ted called, then louder, "Dennis!" He turned to Amy, who was crying, her hand clasped over her mouth. "He went to the office, can you find the office?"

Ted asked her. She only shook her head. "Hello? Anyone?" Ted cried, and was immeasurably relieved to see someone he took to be a janitor come down the steps from the stage.

"Sweet Jesus," Abe Kipp muttered. "Oh my God… Mrs. Hamilton."

"Go to the office," Ted said. "Get Dennis. And an ambulance. Hurry up, man!" Abe nodded, then ran up the aisle toward the lobby.

Dennis knew that something was wrong as soon as he saw Abe Kipp's face. It was the same gray, ashen color that it had been when Harry Ruhl had died. "Mrs. Hamilton," Abe blurted out. "There's an accident."