The dead have highways...
Running through the wastelands behind our lives..
Bearing an endless traffic of departing souls.
They can be herd through the broken places of our world.
Through the cracks made by acts of cruelty violence and depravity
they have sign posts these highways and crossroads and intersections
and it is at these intersections where the dead mingle
and sometimes spill over into our world.
Hey, darling.
Are you okay?
Oh my god!
I’m looking at him.
You sure you want to do this?
You want it in one... piece.
Your skin is leaving. I'll be in touch.
Keep the change.
Ooh there, hang on a minute, it's okay. Local hero in charge
How old are you Pussycat?
- I wouldn't tell. - And neither will I!
Can't stop. I've go to keep going.
Sure you do
Drink?
All the more for me.
- Where you headed friend? - Away, away
As far away as I can go.
I think I can help with that.
I need to sleep. I need to sleep.
Cumfy?
Where are we?
End of the line friend. End of the line!
You see this collector calls me.
Probably sitting in some stuffy room some where.
All kinds of disgusting artifacts on the shelves like...
Pickled tongues, plaster casts of rock stars dicks,
reptile fetuses in formaldehyde jars.
But just like every collector...
This ones dying for the next thing!
And guess what the next, thing is!
Your skin! Weird hey?
But hey!, who am I to judge. This one pays well.
And I might get a bonus, if I can keep it all in one...
"Boat".
Please.
Please what? Pass the salt?
Still... I got to wonder!
Being a student of human nature and all.
How a beauty... Like you!
Finds himself tied to a table about to be flayed by a sociopath.
Jesus Christ son.
You are a book of blood.
Read it to me.
Why should I?
Well now...
Because...
Here's the deal.
We can do this nice and slow and painful
or I can make it relatively quick.
Up to you.
- Quick - Up to you.
The dead have highways.
Highways that lead to intersections.
And intersections that spill into our world.
And if you find yourself at one of those intersections,
you should stop and you should listen.
Because the dead have stories to tell.
Janie, Janie open the door. Open the door now.
Here! Call the police. Janie open the door!
Janie!
Open the door!
- Janie, Janie... - Let me in. Please... stay back!
Captain!
Oh my God!
Paranormal.
Defined by Webster something not scientifically... explainable.
We live in the realm of the paranormal.
If we'd only look... If we'd only listen.
Remember...
The absence of proof does not necessarilly prove the negative.
But it's a good start.
I'd take a seat anywhere Mr...
McNeal. Simon McNeal.
I've just um... transferred from Strath Clyde..
Okay. Welcome... Simon McNeal.
You're welcome... Simon McNeal.
Why is it these places always look so...
Ordinary?
The owner moved out in a hurry after his daughter was murdered.
Place has been on the market ever since.
It was built in the early 19 hundreds.
Then that guy. J.D Tollington...
bought the place during the depression.
Snake oil man... Huh.
Claimed he could talk to the dead.
People came from all over Europe to see him.
He used to entertain the rich and famous right up stairs here...
Very spooky goings on apparently.
Story goes during one session he was interrupted...
by some invisible hand clasped over his mouth.
So cold it left an impression on his skin like a mustache.
The proof is in his autopsy.
Suddenly he was thrown against the wall so hard,
shards of his broken bones pierced his lungs.
He choked on his own blood.
- You're making this up? - It all happened right up here.
What ever did it to Tullington scribbled a message on the closet doors.
In blood!
Don’t mock us!
The same message they found the night Janie got killed!
After you.
Nothing wrong with this picture.
According to her parents, Janie was seriously into sex and death.
Used to bring her friends up here for séances
Voodoo and blow jobs. They grow up so fast these days.
Probably just a passing truck.
Steven!
Not my son!
How do you know any of this stuff in your books is true?
How do you know any of it is really true?
Well. If we close our minds to the possibilities...
We'd never make any progress, would we?
But truth is relative. I mean if you can see it...
and you can touch it, then, how can we be sure?
Professor?
So... we are just supposed to take all this in faith?
In this business we have to start from a place of faith.
For a visiting professor, you're not very curious about the local cuisine?
Want some?
- It helps with my insomnia. - Your not getting laid enough!
I'm still available?
What do you think?
That house. Perfect another book, right?
I suppose.
Excuse me... I was just struck by a blinding burst of enthusiasm.
Half my fans think they're reading fiction for Christs sake.
You mean it's not?
Reg. I’ve been studying the paranormal for almost ten years.
And I have never found anything verifiable, anything indisputable.
Just a series of speculation and presumption.
Every scientific breakthrough in the history is based on nothing...
Speculation and presumption.
Ask Galileo, Newton, Darwin.
Wouldn't it be great...
If all that high tech equipment of yours could finally prove something.
Can't prove anything sitting in its box.
So... When do we move in?
McNeal. What are you doing out in this weather?
- I'm just going home. - Get in. I'll give you a lift.
What's wrong?
- You shouldn’t be driving tonight. - What?
Just be careful, professor.
His brother was killed in a car accident.
Flipped his pickup into a ditch. Went through the windscreen head first...
Snapped his neck. Simon saw it happen.
What do you mean he saw it?
He walked into the kitchen one night. Told his parents point blank. Steve is dead.
The truck crashed. A moment later the police called.
When his parents got to the scene, it was exactly as he described it.
- There's something about him Reg. - Yeah. He's hopping great looking!
He knew I was going to have that flat the other night...
I suppose a coincidence. There's obvious an explanation?
He could be an asset to our investigation...
Mr McNeal. Got a moment?
It all started that night. It just...
Went to my mind.
Then this journalist turned up asking for an interview.
Eleven year old boy has visions of his brothers death...
That's going to get people's attention isn’t it.
- How did it make you feel? - Weird.
The people started treating me like I was a celebrity.
- You didn’t like the attention? - No...
I guess...
I mean I was just a kid. I had no idea what was going on.
And then people started coming to the house.
Just wanted me to touched them... and tell what I saw.
So... I did.
And... I saw things.
- And then people started to say I was a... - Clairvoyant.
Are you...?
- You like old songs? - Like this one?
Want to dance?
What...? Come on.
Come on, it's a nice song.
How did it feel?
- What? - The first time it happened to you?
The first time.
When you were a girl and the fountain sprayed blood.
And they found that little girl.
And it made you feel kind of special... didn’t it?
Simon there is a house near here.
Tollington Place.
Something terrible happened there, something unexplained.
- A young girl was murdered. - Right.
- You're writing another book. - I'd like you to work with me.
You know I don't know about that.
A lot of people have said my family exploited my brother's death.
I mean... My parents even made money off it!
Something awful happened to that poor girl.
Don’t you think her story deserves to be told.
You have a gift, Simon.
Don’t waste it.
Help me find out what happened in that house.
Feel this a good idea?
Can't hurt.
But you don’t know this kid. You do not know what he wants out of all this.
I mean for all you know he could just be...
Jesus! No one said nothing about three flights of stairs.
This place is giving me the hee bee gee bees.
My dick
- There's something on my back. - Right... right.
Let's just dump this shit and go for a pint!
I'm not kidding ya prick. There's something on my back.
Fuck sake!
He just started freaking out.
He's winding you up!
Oh man! Why did you have to go and do that?
- I had you man. I had you good. - Fuck you!
Hi ya.
So?
This is where it all happened, isn’t it?
Yeah.
Will you be okay up here can I get you anything?
No! Not a soul. I'll be fine... Thanks.
My room is right below yours, so I'll hear you if you call.
Okay.
Good night.
- I sleep naked. - Right!
Sssh... listen.
- I don’t hear anything. - That’s right.
I haven’t seen one fly, one spider or an ant even.
Anywhere. Do you?
It's like the place is being... shunned...
I can't sleep either..
I think I might have a fever.
When I was a kid if I couldn’t sleep...
My mother would make me warm milk.
Helps me sometimes... when I masturbate.
Professor?
You all right? You ah...
- You were crying. - I... I'm fine Simon... I'm fine..
I was just having a dream. That’s all..
You can close the door, Simon.
Come on, Reg. Just say whats on your mind.
I just think you're being unprofessional, that's all!
What's that supposed to mean?
I'm trained to do what I do... You've got a PhD.
What's he bringing to the party?
If there is even a slightest chance he can help us to open this house up...
- I'm going to encourage it...! - Yeah!
Just be careful the house isn’t the only thing he opens up.
Look Reg... If you don’t like the way I'm approaching my research,
I'll get some one else to carry my wires.
Mary?
Jesus! Christ.!
Sorry... I heard you call.
- Did you hear it? - What?
The voices, the whispering. The pounding on the floor.
Listen. I've recorded it.
There's nothing there.
The fuck?
- Help! - What's this Simon?
What's in there Reg? Simon! Simon!
I can't get it open... Jesus, Reg!
Mary.
What the...?
Simon
- My God, Simon. What happened to you? - I don't know.
- I don't know what happened. - Ssh, don’t try to talk now.
- I don't know what happened. - Sssh, ssh.
[I'M DEATH]
[I serve Hell, and in its turn, Hell serves me]
Better have a look at this
Well. That's something you don’t see every day.
- How did all that happen, Reg? - I don’t know.
But then again, I don’t know how David Copperfield makes elephants disappear.
Your saying it was just a trick.
Was the whispering you heard a trick?
Was this?
Get some rest.
What are you doing?
Whatever this is... should be examined forensically.
You want to be sure. Right?
Where is he?
I don't know. He was gone before I woke up.
I'm just curious to know how this stuff got on those walls, Nigel.
You are the best forensics man I know.
Hey you want to flatter me? Have dinner with me!
Your wife going to cook?
Right.
I'll get on to this today. I'll let you know what I find.
Simon.
Let's see if Simon has any tricks hidden in his bag.
Aspirin.
You're disappointed, Reg.
Hey, nothing to hide, right?
- Why don’t we do a cavity search. - You're joking.
Be my guest! Go on...
All yours, wiseguy...
- What the hell was that? - I don't know. I was in the bathroom...
When I came back my equipment was freaking out...
My equipment is all messed up. Something's interfering with it...
Wait.
That can't just be him...
Simon!
Simon are you all right? Simon?
Simon... Help me get him up!
Easy... Easy now
You'd better lie down.
Lie down over here...
It was real.
It was not like before. They came... and they were here!
You've got to be fucking joking.
Reg!
We need to get the first aid kit.
Look Mary. I hink we should get out of here...
- You've got to be kidding. - We have got enough here.
Reg... We've never seen anything like this before.
That’s what I mean. This is...
I don't know what this is.
I think it's him...
He is the one making this happen. He's our lightning rod.
Okay but I think we should leave before we get fucking electrocuted.
I need a drink.
Mary...
- I have to tell you something. - Ssssh.
- You need to rest. - No.
I need to tell you, what's really being going on here.
It's not what you think.
I understand, Simon.
- Do you want to stop? - I can't.
Tonight was different.
What happened here, tonight...
It was a miracle.
You are the miracle.
You're the one that made it all happen.
You're the one I've been waiting for.
And I’ll tell the world, and everyone will believe.
I don’t understand. That isn’t what happened.
There was something there. Something was holding me, pushing me.
There was something there.
What are you looking at? What is so important?
The fountain.
Reminds you of when you were a girl, doesn’t it?
I was ten.
There was a park across the street from our house.
It had a fountain where we used to play..
But it was old.
The water never worked.
Until one night, the sound... woke me up.
It was spraying every where. The air was drenched...
But not with water.
With blood.
I didn’t know what was happening, but it happened almost every night.
- And you didn’t say anything.. - I was too afraid..
In the morning the fountain was always completely.. dry like it never happened.
I was afraid that all would think I was crazy.
A few weeks later, the city came
and tore out the fountain to make way for a parking lot.
When they ripped up the ground they found...
A ten year old girl buried underneath.
She'd been...
tortured.
Her DNA linked her to a man five doors down.
But by the time they found him, he'd done the same thing to six more girls
If I'd only said something...
It wasn’t your fault.
I need to get out of here for a while, Reg.
[You didn’t listen]
Simon, what's wrong?
It only lasted until I was 13.
Then it just stopped.
When I started to believe them.
Maybe it never happened at all.
Maybe I never had... this gift.
But when I found you.
And it started again.
And it's more intense than ever.
And I don’t want to lose that again.
I don’t.
And I don’t want to lose you.
I don’t believe it. Look!
Yeah, let's go.
Excuse me!
Is this you, Mary Florescu?
- Yeah yeah, that’s me. - Would you sign it for me please?
Um... to the soul of Agnes Wishington.
This is my second copy of 'Visits in the Paranormal."
I read the other one so many times the pages started falling out.
"I believe with all my heart...
that a parallel universe co-exists with ours.
A landscape of souls, we can not see...
Crying out with stories that must be told.
That must never be forgotten... else
- ...that awful death... - ...will have no meaning.
And guide is only backwards, to more suffering."
Sorry, this is Simon McNeal. He's working with me on one of my projects.
Oh I see.
- Then you have to sign it too. - Of course...
Oh I'm so sorry, will you excuse me a moment?
I'll just do it on the right.
Hello? Sorry my phone must have been out of range.
What?
No, you're breaking up. I didn’t get that.
No, tell me now Nigel.
Are you sure?
- Could you sign that as well? - Yeah, something to focus on.
- It was nice to meet you anyway. - Thanks very much. Thank you.
Where the hell did you go?
So what? We going to play some sort of game now?
Isn’t that what we have been doing all along?
Potassium nitrate.
Other wise known as...
Gunpowder.
Perfect for making marks on walls spontaneously burst into flame.
Over here we have... protein. Actually its a constituent of protein.
Its sulphur.
Good boy.
Sulphur and carbon. Let's see...
Oh yeah, that makes charcoal. Artists charcoal
Perfect for writing on walls.
Okay... Alright so...
- I faked some stuff. - the tyre on my car?
And the fountain when I was a girl?
- How did you know about that? - I do my homework.
I tried to tell you, I wanted to explain, but you did not listen to me.
- You better leave. - Listen.
Mary there is something going on in this house. Alright!
The first time, up stairs, yeah. I faked it...
But the second time, that was real.
That was something way beyond a few pieces of charcoal.
Something way beyond what a guy in a lab coat would ever tell you.
I thought you were smarter than this, Simon.
I thought...
For a moment you were for real.
I don’t want to lose you.
Nothing to hide right
All right so, I faked some stuff.
But the second time, that was real.
I tried to tell ya.
I wanted to explain to you, but you would not listen to me.
Please stop!
That's how he got the gunpowder in here.
Come on, there is more.
Watch him carefully.
- Regurgitation. Right out of Houdini. - That's how he does it.
Watch his hand.
Took me a while to figure that one out.
Magnetic pulse transmitter.
I found it sewn in the bottom of his mattress.
He totally fucked with my equipment.
I thought I saw him with one of the movers.
He must have paid him to put it there.
God knows what other tricks he's got hidden around here.
I am sorry, I really wanted it to be true
Hey forget about it. You weren’t being your self.
You're right, I wasn’t.
I was weak, and he was...
Hot...
Little liar. Sweet little liar.
He really thought he was special.
For what it worth, so did I...
For a minute there.
Just a minute.
How about we head over to Elliot's.
Get a pizza some veno Del e Casa
Forget about the phony little fraud.
I am not an fraud.
Get the fuck out of here.
You! You don’t understand!
And you never will!
Mary.
I'm supposed to be here.
This house, it wants me.
It has chosen me, me!
It is always about you, isn’t it? Always you!
Yes it's about me.
I told you that I had a gift, and it was taken away.
But I've got it back now.
I've got it back and I'm not going to let it get taken away again!
So I'm going to prove it to you. I'm going to prove it once and for all!
You can stop now, Simon.
Oh please!
When I'm through you're going to beg to write my story.
And it's going to be bigger than any book you have ever written.
Do you know why?
Because it's all true!
Fine!
Then you write it!
Alright no tricks.
We can't just leave him here.
Why don’t we call the cops and tell them that there is a burglar.
Little bastard, at it again.
Jesus Christ... You've got to hear this...
Oh my God!
we are in the middle of an intersection.
I understand now.
That is what this house is. An intersection of the dead...
The dead have highways.
Highways leading to intersections..
Intersections that spill over into our world
[Screeching]
Mary.
He has lead us to a crossroads.
He is not the one doing this!
Its you.
Stop.
- Mary! - Simon!
Mary. Stop!
Mary.
Tell them you'll listen.
Listen to what?
You really don’t understand, do you?
They've been waiting...
For someone to listen.
For someone to hear their stories.
I promise we will listen.
And I will tell your stories to the world.
She had made them a promise.
A promise that I would have to keep.
And their stories kept coming. Day after day...
Night after night.
She kept me locked in the estate she bought...
With all the money she made from her books.
Reading my skin.
Let us continue.
She said that I would be that book.
And she would be their translator.
Copying down their stories.
The stories they wrote on me.
But I couldn’t take it anymore.
So I ran.
I ran and I ran...
But still they kept writing...
and they keep writing.
You know what?
You tell a good story, friend. But sad to say I'm not moved
I don’t feel... anything.
Be quick.
- Got the money? - Of course.
Neatly done. Suitable for framing.
The stories go on.
Who's there?
What the...
Help me!
The stories go on.
They bleed and bleed.
The dead have highways.
Only the living are lost.
But there are sign posts and bridges...
where the dead will stop to tell you their stories.
Because the telling will relieve them of the tale.
And it would best to listen.