This theatre hadn't shown a movie in a long time. A once well lighted marquis still had some broken neon tubing remaining, with one longer piece swinging when a gust of wind caught it. Of the chaser lights that surrounded the marquis, only a few of the light bulbs remained intact, the rest broken and jagged. A layer of dirt covered everything, making the once white reader board dingy and gray. The only letters that remained were G and R, and Michael tried to match the title to something. He knew he was in a dream, a very realistic one, and he hoped to place the time period. Nothing seemed to fit in the space between the letters and the theater that once hosted happy children and pleased adults in a time when life was slower paced, and a movie was an event to plan out and dress up for, instead of just something to do.
The theater reminded Michael of the home town Kentucky theater of his childhood, The two entry doors with brass push-bars across their face that had once been highly polished by thousands of hands opening them to excitement over the next cinematic adventure, were tarnished and forgotten. The door glass was covered with newspapers from within, and one visible headline spoke of a politician who was long gone, his sins relegated to obscurity by the frenzied pace of the news. The dust on the other door was too thick to easily make out the writing, but it really didn't matter to Michael other than noting that the dream he was having was exceptionally detailed. The centrally located ticket booth jutted out into the center of the entryway, with it's faded brass medallion that once had young excited children stand on tip toes to ask for tickets, hoping that they would not be the ones who were told that the show was sold out. The ledge in front of the brass half circle that once allowed patrons to slide money though to the ticket seller had long since broken off, and the bare broken supports seemed to be waiting for some unlucky person to be shoved into them, to their injury or death.
The floor was green tile that has once been elegant were still green, but instead of the rich green they were the dull dark green of mold. The name of the theater was once emblazoned in gold leaf was now scratched nearly beyond legibility and Micheal wished he would be able to remember the name when he woke, but that's not how his dreams worked, even en extremely vivid one like this. Michael had been dreaming his whole life, and only the most important dreams were ever this vivid. Some dreams were mere shadows, and imparted an event of a situation he would encounter in the future, but he couldn't remember a dream this vivid since the one he'd had about a terrorist attack a week before it happened. He also learned a valuable lesson about dreams, in that you don't tell the police about a major terrorist attack a week before it happens and expect them to believe that your knowledge was gleaned from a dream. The door the the lobby made no sound as he pushed it open.
The carpet in the lobby was once tan with red medallions, but was now green and brown with stains that mirrored the ones caused by roof leaks on the ceiling. The mold in the entry had not spared this carpet, and Michael wondered if mold spores in his dream could affect him when he woke up. The display counter had it's top, but the front of the glass was cracked diagonally, and the candy that had once been displayed with small lights to tempt the patron to buy and support both the theater and their local dentist, were scattered about and the rats that had eaten into the boxes probably had no concerns with visiting a dentist, or concerned with neatness. There was a missing section of wallpaper that had once been behind the popcorn machine, and Michael looked down to see that one of the rats that infested the abandoned theatre had no need to see a dentist, and the teeth that he could see looked healthier than their owner. The rat skeleton still had a tuft tor two of hair still sticking to the bones like a zombie that had finally ran out of food and just laid down to die.
The theater doors on the right were blocked with a bench that had been propped against it to keep the doors from opening. To the left were three doors, The center one one with a hand painted sign that said, "No Entry," and the two on the left and the right of it bearing the labels "Gents," and "Dames." There was the scent of water coming from the men's room, and a lingering scent of urine that all but screamed that the building wasn't empty. Michael knew that he would have to follow the dream to it's conclusion or he would relive it repeatedly until he did. As soon as that thought passed his mind, he noticed the voice and felt a pressure like when too many people are in too small of a space. He opened the lobby door and walked into the theater.
There was only one light on the stage and it was highlighting a man who was dressed perfectly in a tailored suit, who stood tall and straight and moved with confidence. His voice was calm and reassuring, and as he spoke Michael felt a deep desire to join him, to follow him and this was without understanding a single word that was said. Just the very cadence of the man's voice was hypnotic. Michael founding himself wanting to stand and sway while listening to him, but as Michael forced open his dream eyes, and stopped himself from humming along with the audience. He was almost lulled in again, and felt his dream eyes getting heavy, and a sense of fear intruded into the dream, and with it, a remembrance of the rat skeleton in the lobby. His mind clamped onto that horror, and pulled him from the danger of the voice, allowing him to sense the undercurrent in the man's voice. He felt a sense of panic that almost pulled him out of the dream, a panic that demanded that he run away. But the pull of the voice lessened as he got hold of himself and anchored himself in the dream with more a conscious effort than being pulled along as he had been, so far.
The theater was full of people, Michael noticed as he looked around. Some were swaying as he had been, some were raising their hands up to the man on the stage murmuring and repeating his words softly, and some were in the walkways kneeling on the floor. Michael felt as if he had walked into a hornets nest, and everyone in the hteater was going to turn on him if they noticed that he wasn't entranced, but as he looked around, he noticed that some were not swaying in time with others, and some were not as focused as their companions. He was not alone. But the others were trying to blend in, which said that they were afraid of standing out. He wondered if he gathered them, would they come with him, or be too afraid to move. He felt as if he should be gathering them, that they were supposed to come with him.
Micheal worked his way through the seats to the ones he could reach, and placed his hand on their shoulders. Some turned to look at him then looked away quickly, some stiffened at his touch but studiously ignored him, and a few jumped at the contact as if they had been caught. Occasionally he would touch someone who was entranced, and they would lean into his touch like a cat against it's masters hand. To those who reacted to him, her whispered into their ear to carefully and slowly make their way to the bathroom, and then outside where he would be in a few minutes. A few did eagerly, some reluctantly, but some ignored him and turned back to pretending to worship the man on the stage. That is when the Preacher noticed that some were leaving, and that Micheal was working his way through the audience.
Michael first knew that something was wrong when he felt that uneasy creeling sensation that eyes had just turned to him. The man on the stage was the source of the sensation, and his melodic voice wound down but Michael was close enough to the stage now to see the eyes of the man, and a shiver ran down his back as he saw that the eyes that were behind that pleasant voice were cold and hard like flint. The man's gaze penetrated into Michael, almost as if he could see his inner workings and inner self. Those eyes appeared to be thousands of years old, and when they looked at Micheal, he had the impression that there was noting he could do, at all, that would not be expected. That he had been seen, judged, and quantified in a moment. As the man's voice stopped, some that had followed Michael's instructions but hadn't made it out of the theater yet changed their minds and returned to their seats, their eyes downcast like children that had been caught doing something they knew to be wrong. Michael also assessed the man, and knew that to show weakness would be disastrous and hurt more than himself, when the people that had walked out were rounded back up. Without options, Michael boldly walked in the preachers direction, motioning those who remained with him to exit the doors quickly.
"You claim to lead them?" Michael asked.
"I lead them, and they follow me willingly." He said in a cold but calm voice. He looked Michael up and down and said, "Interesting. You are protected, for now." He turned his head sideways a little like a dog who is curious about something and put one finger in front of his lips and said almost to himself, "And why is that?" He raised his voice and asked as if he expected instant obedience, "Who are you?" But when Micheal hesitated, not knowing if the man was asking for a name, or a purpose (Which Michael wasn't clear on, himself), he took the pause as a refusal to answer, and said, "No matter." He followed with, "I do see you have some of my followers. Have they rejected me?"
"I don't think they rejected you. I think they were not yours to start with." Michael said, knowing that there was a subtle insult behind his words.
"Any who wish may leave with you, but do not try to take those who are mine. They will defend themselves and tear you apart. I restrain them, but even if you are protected, my control will not prevent them from harming you if you appear as a threat to me."
He looked around at the crowd and saw that they were inching toward violence, and glimpsed the power that this man had over them. He could see that these people had a different morality than Michael had enjoyed most of his life. They were not bound by rules or by regulations, and to them killing was just something to do, but nothing to be concerned with after the death was achieved. He understood that he was like the rat in the lobby to them, and like the rat, he was simply a minor problem to be overcome. Yet, something else was in play here and Michael realized that the the man had lied to him. Jim Jones' followers gladly drank poisoned Cool Aid, these followers, he could see, would do the same, but they were like a flood being held back by a dam. As long as Michael didn't push too hard, the dam would hold. But this also led Michael to understand that the speaker himself was also restrained and had lied to him to lead Michael to believe that he was the reason they were restrained.
He turned toward the crowd and said, "Any who wish may leave with me." As he scanned the faces looking for the last dissenters, the crowd became darker, more openly hostile, as if by being examined they felt that the need to defend themselves. Michael noticed this and it took a little of his bravado away, because as a cult, people would die to protect themselves from truth. He looked and saw that the man's face mirrored the crowd. Michael felt that he could still be harmed if he were to push too hard, but he had no choice. Michael said to the crowd, "He cannot hold any of you against your will. Who will leave and join me freely?"
The man walked to the edge of the stage, his face a thundercloud. "I told you that you will not try to take those who are mine. You will stop, or there shall be consequences!"
Michael said, "You said that any who chose to could leave, did you not? Are you afraid that some will decide they've made a mistake? Are you afraid that they will leave? Are you afraid that you will lose if they have another choice?"
Preachers pleasant face lost it's charm, and with clenched teeth, said, "Once someone joins me, they will never want to walk away!" He jerked his eyes from Michael, and in a rage turned to the audience and with a loud voice said, "Those who are not mine will go with him! NOW! Those who do not want to be with me, with their whole heart, with go as well!" Michael wasn't sure if it was confidence, or anger that led to the man throwing down the gauntlet to his followers, but he felt that it may have been an equal measure of both. But that balance shifted when one woman said, "I want to go with you," in a tiny voice. A few others stood and started to move toward the exits. As each person turned away, the man's anger grew until he was all but in a rage.
Michael said, "I will take those who do not belong here with me, now, and no-one will stop them." And as he walked to the lobby doors, one young lady tried to push past a large man, but he held out a massive hand and stopped her. "She is mine and you will not take her." He growled at Michael.
Michael walked to him and standing face to face, said, "She is not yours. You will release her."
"I will not." He said. "If you want her, you will take her from me."
Preacher said, with a smirk, "If you act in violence, then you have moved against me and I will me pleased to no longer restrain my followers." The girl looked defeated, and moved back to her seat. Michael was confused and not sure what to do, then understood that no matter what he did, this was their sacrifice, and the one person they were not going to willingly release to him. He knew he could take the rest, but this one was their line in the sand. If Micheal tried to fight for her, then he would somehow violate the rules, and that would allow them to tear him apart.
"I will take mine and go." Michel said, admitting defeat, deciding to save what he could.
"You may," Preacher said in an attempt to regain the upper hand and verbally and reassure his people that he was in charge. Michael, who was already regretting the thought of leaving one behind, decided that he would do something, even if it meant sacrificing himself, to save that last girl.
Michael walked toward the door, and stood by while the last of the group, which had swelled to more than twenty, were out the door and into the lobby. When the last one was walking out, he said to him, "You're in charge now, when everyone is clear, run!"
When the last man was out, Michael made as if to follow, and at the last second, turned and ran toward the stage, past the startled crowd. He grabbed the edge of the apron, and pulled himself up even as a howl of outrage erupted from the audience. They surged in Michael's direction to drag him back down and protect the man, but as Michael stood on the stage he did not approach the the speaker, but looked for the young lady in the crowd. When he spotted her, made eye contact, and then ran away from her to draw the crowd away and let her escape. As the crowd surged forward, space opened up around the girl, but she stood still, unsure what to do. Michael wasn't sure what to do, but two large men wearing back t-shirts were placing themselves between him and the speaker and making his decision for him. They were afraid of him, so anything other than running away would be taken as a threat.
Michael ran for the rear of the stage and to the fire exit at the rear of the building, knowing that he had given the girl a chance. But he realized his mistake when he ran into the door and tried to shove it open, only to bounce off. The door was locked. Two more men wearing black t-shirts calmly walked to Michael and took him by the arms. He did not struggle, as there was little point.
The man walked to Micheal, calm again but with a deadly look on his face. "You have damaged me by taking her. I cannot allow that." For the first time Michael felt real fear that he might die. "Take him to the front of the stage!" the speaker ordered. One of the men holding him punched him in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs, and as he tried to get his breath. The man said, "NO! He is not to be harmed!" He motioned the men, and they they dragged him to the front of the stage, but outside of the spotlight.
As preacher walked onto the stage the crowd got quiet, waiting for him to tell of the fate of the man who had opposed the speaker, but he knew this. He walked to the side a little and waved his arm in Michael's direction as they pulled him into the spotlight, still struggling to breathe. The man motioned to his security nad the pulled Michael back out of the spotlight and a little to the side, holding him securely. The Speaker walked into the light.
In a calm manner, took a moment without saying anything, then he calmly buttoned his suit jacket and flexed his arms in casual indifference, and then said, "No one escapes me, ever, they can only be stolen from me or leave when I give them permission." His first words were loud, but trialed off until the word permission came out like a caress, soft and silky, making everyone focus on him. "No one escapes me!" He bellowed, shocking everyone as he raised his fist to the air then pointing at Michael. The crowd cheered, and he allowed it for a few moments, then he held his hand up for quiet and said softly, "No one escapes me, unless I give them permission."
Preacher motioned to the men holding him and they pulled Michael to the front of the stage and threw him off. He landed on top of someone who hit him in the stomach hard enough to drive the air from his lungs again, causing him to fall to the ground. As he fell, a women kicked him in the face and a child tried to kick him between the legs. One of those assaulting him was ready to kick him in the kidneys, but as his leg went back for the kick, he heard the Preacher say, "Let him up!"
When he had been roughly pulled up, Preacher said, "No one escapes me, They will only leave when I give them permission." He pointed toward the door and said, "I now give you permission to leave." Micheal knew that he was establishing his credibility with his followers and making it appear that his decision to not harm Michael was his decision instead of him unable to act outside of his limits. Michael learned a lot in the exchange, and one was that unless he acted directly, he would be left alone. Running and distracting them appeared to be within his limits. But the man on the stage misjudged, and as Michael was getting to his feet to leave, the man who had claimed the girl that Michael had rescued, punched him hard in the face.
"STOP THAT!" The Speaker shouted. The punch had shattered his nose, and the blood smell was starting to spread through the air. Michael wondered just how tight a reign he had over these people, and if his end was near. If one could act against the words of the speaker, then all of them could, and even though he felt he was safe from death at least, even that was iffy. But the crowd did obey, grudgingly, reluctantly. The speaker looked at the man who had punched him and said, "You disobeyed me."
The man looked horrified, and said, "Preacher! No! I've lost her, don't make me lose you, too!"
Preacher's limit had been reached, and he said, "Expel both of them!" and pointed toward the lobby door. The man cried, "Please, No! I have served you faithfully!"
Preacher said, No, you didn't," and waved his hand and walked off the stage. The crowd forced them both out of of the rood, and through the theatre lobby, and our into the street. They were shoved away from the door, and then it was pulled it tight and locked from inside. Michael looked at the man and braced for a fight, but the man just said, defeated, "You took them from me. I won't forget that, ever," and just walked away...
