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Ripley side-eyed her, clearly of the opposite opinion. ‘I’m not leaving until Mr. Faulkner tells who us who’s doing this.’
Ella squeezed the door handle. ‘We don’t need to – he’s already told us.’
‘What?’ Harry cried. ‘I haven’t told you anything.’
Ella held up three fingers and said, ‘Sometimes, Faulkner, you have to read between the lines. We’re looking for your special effects guy, aren’t we?’
For the first time since meeting him – from blind crone to shackled prisoner – Harry Faulker showed raw emotion. His expression dissolved from smugness to genuine shock. He turned a shade paler.
Harry stayed quiet, his silence speaking volumes.
‘And not only that,’ Ella continued, ‘but you told us where to find him.’
Ella rushed outside, ready for the last voyage. Every piece slot into place like a perfect jigsaw, and now she just needed to get to the final scene before the curtain dropped.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Aurora adjusted the strap of her bag as she stepped onto the sound stage. She glanced at her watch - 7:58 pm – then reread the folded note that had been slipped under her door earlier today.
Sound stage. 8 pm. Important news. Sorry for the note, lost your number – Harry F.
She hadn't been back since the day the production was suddenly halted. Rumors swirled about budget cuts, but there were also whispered tales of disagreements between the cast and Harry, but if there was a chance thatIn Hellwas back on the menu, then she was going to do whatever it took to play her part. Aurora Davis had always wanted to play the coveted final girl, a role that paved the way for starlets like Jamie Lee Curtis and Sigourney Weaver to the big leagues. And Aurora, with her rich brunette waves, unpretentious features and lean figure, perfectly fit the mold, even by her own admission.
Aurora had never actually seen this stage before because Harry had once mentioned it was reserved for the climatic showdown, the scene where Aurora and the masked lunatic died in each other’s arms in some melancholic twist ending that would, according to Harry,make the viewers feel something.But Harry hadn’t mentioned what this place was supposed to be, and from the relics on display, she guessed it was some kind of shrine.
The dim, shadowy expanse was filled with artifacts of horror films from generations past in a tribute to the terror and suspense that had thrilled audiences for decades. Aurora saw old costumes encased in glass, mock props, and even gaffed body parts dangling from hooks. A butcher knife and blue jumpstair lay displayed on a satin pillow, its gleaming blade catching the limited light. In another corner, a worn hockey mask was mounted on a wall. The entire stage felt like a macabre museum, a shrine dedicated to the very essence of horror.
She hesitated for a moment, taking in the haunting beauty of it all. The nostalgia was thick in the air, but so was anticipation. The promise of what 'In Hell' could be, and her crucial role in it, filled her with a mix of emotions, and she doubted Harry would call her here just to deliver bad news. For all she knew, they could be filming something here tonight, perhaps the flashback scene she remembered seeing in the script.
‘Hello? Harry?’ Aurora shouted.
There was no immediate response, just the echoes of her voice bouncing back at her. She strained her ears, listening for any signs of movement or a familiar voice in return. Instead, the only sound was the faint, distant hum of machinery, perhaps a generator, and her own heartbeat thudding in her chest.
She took a few cautious steps deeper into the studio. Aurora clutched her bag tighter, wondering if she should have brought someone with her. But she dismissed the idea quickly – it was a professional invitation, after all, and Harry was eccentric, not dangerous.
The further she ventured into the sound stage, the more intricate the displays became. Vintage movie posters from classic horror films adorned the walls, a callback to an era where practical effects reigned supreme. There were tributes to iconic monsters like Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman, alongside prosthetics from newer movies, showing the evolution of the genre over the years. At one display, an old-school clapboard stood next to a modern digital one, perhaps symbolizing the intersection of old and new.
Stepping away from the unnerving spotlight, Aurora's eyes were drawn to a sign hanging from the ceiling: 'Dressing Rooms'. Deciding that Harry was probably in the midst of some elaborate directorial vision, she decided to follow the sign's direction down a narrow corridor.
The passage led her to a door with her name written on a makeshift label. Aurora pushed it open, revealing a simple dressing room. A chair sat before a large mirror surrounded by bulbs, most of which were burnt out. A few dim lights still glowed, offering a hazy illumination. On the chair was a costume – her costume from the movie. It was unmistakable, especially with the intentional rips and faux bloodstains that were designed to give it an authentic, post-chase look.
On the table was a note, written in the same messy handwriting as the message through her door.
Aurora, for tonight's magic. Put this on. We're bringing the finale to life.
Despite the odd circumstances, Aurora couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. Maybe this was it. Maybe they were going to rehearse the final scene.
Aurora admired the dress for a moment, then began undressing. She checked there were no cameras and this wasn’t some voyeuristic effort, because after all, everyone knew about Harry’s past. However, separating a man’s art from his personal life was a required skill for Hollywood.
The costume was a snug fit, just as it was during their prior shoots. As she looked in the mirror, adjusting the ensemble and scrutinizing the fake blood splatters, she felt an actor's thrill. Aurora had always admired the women who'd played the iconic final girls. They were symbols of strength, resilience, and sheer willpower. Tonight, she was stepping into those shoes.
Once dressed, she took a moment to breathe, feeling the weight of the role. If this was a potential ticket to stardom, she was ready to take the ride.
While Aurora adjusted her costume in the mirror, a sudden noise interrupted her thoughts. It sounded like footsteps, but not the usual, familiar stride of a crew member or actor she was accustomed to. It was uneven, deliberate, as if someone was taking their time moving around, possibly trying to avoid making too much noise.
‘Harry? Are you there?’ she called. ‘I’m in the dressing room.’
There was a brief pause, then the soft rustle of fabric and another deliberate footstep, closer this time.
