There's Something in the Walls Read online

  David’s breath caught in his throat. He very nearly panicked. He felt an attack rising to the surface, on the verge of breaching. Had someone found out he was there the night of the fire? Had they sent a summons for him to appear in court and tell about that awful night that had nearly killed him in more ways than one?

  His door opened. His mother, stooped and grey and worried, came in and looked at him. She held a thick, manila envelope in her hands.

  “It’s from California,” she said again, holding the envelope out to him. “The return address has the name Sandra Schultz on it. Isn’t that your agent?”

  David reached out and took the envelope from his mother’s hands without answering her question. He opened it, reached in, and took out a slip of paper that rested on top of another bundle of papers which were all clipped together. He read it.

  David,

  I pray to any god that will hear me that this letter reaches you. I know that writers are supposed to be weird and eccentric and all, but you, sir, take the cake. Everything I sent to your PO Box was returned after a month or so. You need to pay that god damn bill. It took a long time, and I even had to hire someone, but I finally found your mother’s address. I WILL be reimbursed for that cost on top of my regular agent fee, by the way. Anyway, to the matter at hand. A Whisper in the Wind SOLD!!! Or it will after you accept one of the many offers for it. That little earthquake was the best thing that could have happened to you, David. Because of the delay it caused, another producer had time to find out about your screenplay. Then another found out, then another. It turned into a bidding war that included three major studios. David, you’ve hit the jackpot here, and I swear I will strangle you to death if you ever resurface from your little disappearing act. Or at least I would if it didn’t look like you were about to make both of us filthy, stinking rich! Call me, David. Call me right away. Please!!!

  Your eagerly awaiting agent,

  Sandra Schultz

  David lowered the letter to his lap, then reached into the envelope again and drew out the stack of papers all clipped together with a plastic clamp. He flipped through them. Offers. They were all offers, from film studios, and production companies, all with several zeroes behind a one or a two, or even a three. David looked up at his mother, and for the first time in eight months, he smiled. His mother saw this, and her hands went to her face, and she began to cry.