We left the basement immediately and reconvened in the upper apartment. Jake grabbed a couple of beers while I showed Roger the receipts we had dated for back in 1988 with his name on them.

"This can't be real," he said, his voice sounding shaky as he showed us how he was able to replicate the signature from the ledger.

"How old are you Roger?" I asked. "31, I was born in 1988! There's no way I could possibly have signed these," he muttered.

I glanced at Jake, recalling our own supernatural experience and told him, "I'm sure there is a logical explanation for all of this..."

Jake took down the photograph I had of the owner and his family, showing it to Roger and asking, "What about these people? Do any of them seem familiar to you?"

Roger shook his head negatively and remarked, "I just moved here after finishing college. I don't know anyone here."

I slumped in my chair, a bit deflated that we weren't getting anything but dead ends.

"Well... thank you for your time Roger. I'll try to get some pay for you as soon as my monthly pension comes in," I sighed.

"Hold the phone, old man. I'm not going anywhere. This is too juicy to just pass up. What is the scoop here? Do you think it could be ghosts or something?" he muttered.

"Something possessed me the other night," Jake agreed.

"There's no need to involve more people," I growled. "His name is on the fucking ledger. Pretty sure that makes him a part of it already," Jake said and added, "It can't be coincidence that he is the one that answered my ad."

"Fine. He can stay. But where do we go from here?"

Neither of them seemed to have a suggestion for a long moment, but then at last Roger said, "Maybe we could check the local library? If nothing else it will have birth certificates of anyone born here... or death certificates. Could be enlightening to see what became of the previous owners?"

Jake nodded at the idea. I shrugged, too tired and stressed to argue with them and Roger agreed to meet with us that following morning.

"For safety, we should sleep apart," I told Cobb. I was thinking he would find the matter offensive, but thankfully he obliged me and slept downstairs near the snack bar.

Some part of me worried that Jake would wander down to the basement again to sate his thirsty curiosity, and that morbid thought alone made it difficult to get any sleep.

When I did dream it took me back to my childhood. I was at the matinee, waiting in line to see a screening of the Mooncreek Monster. The poster was looming over the ticket booth as faceless people paid the proceeds to get inside and finally it was my turn.

The attendant was holding his arms over his chest, looking indignant as his voice boomed. "Ticket please!"

I fumbled in my pockets, but had nothing to offer except for a few pieces of lint and a quarter.

The attendant began to laugh and then leaned forward to give me a good look at his face. It reminded me of Mister Saunders. As he began to laugh I saw blood pool out of his mouth, and then his eyes began to bulge and slide apart, departing from his skull as his skin melted. Beneath the surface, the faceless monster was screaming at me; grabbing ahold of me. It's claws tearing into my upper arms.

I awoke with a start. There were scratches against my skin, the same place where the monster in my dreams had attacked. It was still late. But I didn't feel like I could sleep given the rough dreams I was experiencing. So instead, I grabbed my flashlight and went down to check on Jacob.

As I climbed down to the lobby, I shone the light across the dreary theater; trying to make see if I spotted if asleep on the cold floor. I don't know why given all the strange things we experienced that I was hoping for a sense of normalcy. Instead I couldn't find him anywhere nearby. Curious, and a bit worried that he might have wandered off in a hypnotic state; I wandered to the closest theaters and began to systematically check each and every one of them.

While I did, I distracted myself by making a mental list of other repairs that needed, including new seats in theater 4, some wallpaper and upholstery work in theater 6 and a few wiring problems near to theater 10. Once I was done with the task, I checked my watch to confirm that it was well past 4am, but still saw no signs of Jake.

I returned to the main lobby and was about to head back up to bed myself when I saw the front door to the street was loose. My heart sunk. I knew that in his first instance sleepwalking that Jake had gone on a rampage here the theater. It scared me to death to imagine that he might do something similar now out in the city.

I grabbed a coat and dashed to the streets. At this time of the morning, most of the downtown was fairly empty. It was impossible to say for sure where he might have gone. On a whim, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number; but instead of getting his usual voicemail it said: "The Number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you feel that you have dialed this number by mistake, please hang up and dial again."

I stared at the screen, my weary brain unable to  understand what any of this meant... but still I kept walking down the middle of the road, waiting for some kind of sign. Near the edge of the downtown square I turned to look at the Mooncreek. It suddenly occurred to me I had never really looked at the matinee in the dark pale light of the moon. The way it shimmered across the surface of the majestic electrical display was almost like peering onto a mirage. For a short second, it seemed as though there were two theaters; and then just as suddenly the dim light of the morning sun peered out and faded the illusion away.

I trudged back to the cinema, disappointed I had been unable to find Jake but I figured that if anything; we could discuss his midnight absence over breakfast.

But neither Jacob nor Roger showed up that A.M., and every time I tried to contact Cobb it went straight to the same message. I worried that maybe they had both decided to leave this job behind and honestly I didn't blame them for feeling that way. After all, a lot of this we were experiencing was beyond comprehension. And we had no clue how far down the rabbit hole this might lead.

Another part of me hoped that maybe they were getting a headstart on the arduous process of going through the archives at the downtown library. I knew there had to be plenty. So after waiting for another hour to be sure I wasn't missing them, I left for the library myself.

Being here also gave me a flood of childhood memories. Weekends not spent at the Mooncreek, I was here enjoying a good book. Especially scary stories. It was still hard to believe that I might be living in one. But there was no time like the present to confirm it.

"I need to see all the books you have on local history, especially concerning the Mooncreek Matinee," I told the receptionist as I rummaged through my wallet for my Library membership card.

"I'm sorry sir, it doesn't look like we have anything filed on that. It might simply be listed under historical documents, and that's over in section J9, row A3," she said guiding me over to it.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that the task of sorting through all of these documents had become substantially harder now that Jacob and Roger weren't here to help me. Still, I didn't want to give up.

So for the next few hours, I trudged through record after record of land purchases, local history and genealogy; desperate for even the inkling of what had happened to the Saunders family.

It wasn't until nearly 1 that afternoon that I finally stumbled on something, although admittedly it wasn't the amazing find I was looking for; it was pointing me in the right direction.

Local daughter of steel company gone missing approx three weeks the headline read. It was actually the picture that prompted my interest. I saw the logo of one of the cranes for Talerin Steel as it was photographed placing a beam onto the structure of the nearby hospital.

Antoinette Talerin, young daughter to steel magnate Francis Talerin; has been a missing person for nearly a month now. Local authorities continue to be perplexed as to where she may have disappeared to, as a solid timeline has placed her last known whereabouts as the Mooncreek, a prominent theater in the area. Antoinette's father claimed that she had a date on the night of her disappearance to see the screening of a film made locally by film students, but when asked about the incident, Howard Saunders; the theater's owner; said that he had no recollection of the girl being at his establishment. Authorities did get a warrant to search the property on March 21 and 22nd however no evidence was found to Connect Miss Talerin to the property.

"I don't care how much it costs to find her, I just want my little girl back." Mister Talerin made this statement whenever he filed a reward with the city, offering his entire life savings to anyone who comes forward with information concerning the whereabouts of Antoinette.*

I rubbed my chin tiredly, trying desperately to make the connection. Then I heard a foot step on the paper and glanced up to see Tom Randolph standing there, looking at me like I was a mad man. "Well. Renovating the Mooncreek must have driven you batty; it looks like you're drowning in a conspiracy theory here," he chucked.

"Something like that," I said drunk as he helped me up and glanced at the article that I was reading. "Huh. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're reading up on that case. It's the whole reason the place shut down ya know."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Talerin, he spent all his money toward finding out what happened to his daughter and went bankrupt. He couldn't pay his workers, and without that; all their property they owned went into default. Mister Saunders couldn't afford to pay rent and I guess that's when he shut it down," Randolph said with a shrug.

I bit my lip, a bit disappointed in his neatly organized explanation. It didn't fit with all the other strange happenings I'd dealt with so far.

"Do you happen to have any records of death certificates for Saunders or his family?" I asked. "I guess, probably across the way. Say... what's this all about anyway? You find El Dorado inside the Mooncreek or something?" Randolph asked.

"Something like that... just doing research. I figure once I get it reopened it'll be useful to market the property with this sort of information, make it a tourist attraction," I lied.

"Smart thinking. Well, if you need anything just let me know," Tom said stepping over me.

For a split second I considered asking him why he was there in the first place, but then I caught glimpse of another article on Talerin steel and became distracted again.

Another hour past as I looked through genealogy for any record of Saunders. Only to find there wasn't one. Nor of his wife or child. There was no record of them at all anywhere and it disturbed me. It reminded me of the film I watched a few days prior and how it had quickly been erased. What did it all mean?

I walked back to the front with the papers I had managed to find and requested copies of the pertinent files. Just as I was getting ready to leave the librarian was checking something in her system and remarked, "Well that's strange..."

I lingered for a moment and dared to ask her what was wrong.

"There is a book on the Mooncreek, well; it's the personal ledger of the owner. It's been missing for over thirty years... someone just dropped it off."

I glanced around the library, my senses on alert as I tried to see who it might have been, but she admitted there was no way to determine that information.

"I need that book," I told her.

She made sure it was cleared with her boss. (Apparently whoever had taken the book obviously owed a ludicrous amount of late fees so the arrangement was I could hold onto it for one day.) I couldn't contain my excitement as I ran outside and drove back to the Mooncreek.

This surely had the answers I was looking for. I paused about halfway back to the theater, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer and dove straight into the first entry.

It was clearly written in his own handwriting so I was a bit disappointed to discover that it was difficult to read, but I trudged through anyway. It didn't take me long to discover something of interest. I closed up the book and drove toward the nearest pawn shop.

I have never been one to believe that violence can solve anything, but the reason for the purchase I made that afternoon was purely for my own protection.

If you had read and see what I see, you likely would have also done this.

I got a basic .44 magnum and drove back to the theater in haste. Unsurprisingly this time Jacob and Roger were there, both looking irate as I entered.

"What's the deal old man? We haven't heard from you all day," Roger growled.

I took out the gun and showed it to them.

"Whoa, What is that for?" Jacob asks.

I cocked the gun, tired of the charade as I held up the photograph I had of the two men standing near the construction site for the Matinee.

"I think it's high time you two started answering some questions," I told them, wavering the gun back and forth, "Start with telling me how it is you are standing here when you both died 31 years ago."