cutscene-video

In­ter­lude - the si­lo

dim in­te­ri­or, lit by glow of com­put­er­s, screesn and 3 by 5 video wal­l.

The dim light re­veals a low ceilinged in­te­ri­or, bare con­crete walls and ex­posed pipes. No win­dows, and lit­tle fur­ni­ture oth­er than ta­bles and racks for the mul­ti­tude of elec­tron­ics fill­ing the place. Pow­er and net­work cords are strewn about, over ta­bles, from the ceil­ing, in thick tan­gles on the floor. Dust slow­ly cir­cum­nav­i­gates, pushed by the an­cient ven­ta­la­tion sys­tem. The kind of sys­tem on­ly un­der­gound mil­i­tary fa­cil­i­ties have. What fee­ble il­lu­mi­na­tion ex­ists comes from a half dozen com­put­er mon­i­tors and a pieced to­geth­er, ram­shackle of a video wal­l. Three high and five wide, all fif­teen screens of the wall are play­ing hor­ror movies, “Night of the liv­ing dead­”, “Re­turn of the liv­ing dead­”, “Ceme­tery Man”, the “Evil Dead” se­ries, “Cy­ber­zom­bies from Hel­l”, “Dead Alive”, “Le Lac des Morts Vi­vants”, “San­to Con­tra los Zom­bies”.

The fif­teen sound­tracks are mo­men­tar­ly drowned out by the hol­low clang­ing of a hand knock­ing on met­al.

“Yes, en­ter.” an an­noyed voice says from the speak­ers of a com­put­er set up for tele­con­fer­enc­ing.

Stuborn­ly a great steel blast door slides open. It’s sev­er­al ton weight al­most too much for the vam­pire tug­ging at it.

“What is it Clee­tus?” con­tin­ues the speak­er­s.

Trip­ping over a mound of pow­er ca­bles while thread­ing his way through the tow­ers of com­put­ers and com­mu­ni­ca­tion equip­ment he even­tu­al­ly reach­es the tele­con­fer­ence com­put­er.

“Uh, They’re…”

“Watch it now. Your block­ing my view. How you ev­er get out of Al­aba­ma is be­yond me.”

Mov­ing to the side so the tele­con­fer­ence cam­era had a clear view of the video wall Clee­tus replied “Uh, I walked.”

“Yeah, And?”

“I walked more un­til I got to Arkan…”

“No id­iot, you came here, in­terupt­ed my en­joy­able re­search, to tell me what?”

“O­h, yeah. Um, they’re gonna fig­ure out da plan. Those kid­s, I mean, they smart.”

“Don’t wor­ry my pea-brained pe­on. They’re even more pa­thet­ic than the orig­i­nal scoo­bies And be­lieve me I know, I was there.”

“But, Da wom­a…”

“She’s noth­ing to get your nick­ers in a tan­gle over. And the on­ly oth­er one with a touch of com­pe­tence, is well he’s in­dis­posed.”

Clee­tus did­n’t know what in­dis­posed meant but like all good lack­ies he could rec­og­nize a que to laugh. His snortlel­ing was soon joined by a cack­le from the speak­er­s. From the cor­ner in which he was tied to a chair, gagged and hung up­side down Del­ga­do looked on in dis­gust, spun slow­ly around and looked on in dis­gust.