Years after an artist captures a macabre vision during World War I, his paintings unleash their remarkable powers onto a museum and all who dare to enter the Projection Room.
When fledgling artist Georges Bosque has a near-death experience on the battlefield during World War I, he believes he sees two men harvesting the souls of the dead and dying. Haunted by his macabre vision, Georges is determined to capture them in his sketchbook and, in his last days, on two large canvases. But despite Georges’ pleas to destroy both paintings after his death, his family ignores his request, leaving the paintings with his aging widow.
Years later, his widow sells both paintings to a Milwaukee museum that is testing a new technology that projects images and allows patrons to experience art three dimensionally. But as the technology’s inventor, Bruce Mallory, art director Geoffrey Cavanaugh, and his protégé Noelle Walker are realizing the benefits of the technology, two others—Ryan Barbieri, rebellious museum employee, and his friend, Michael Grout—decide to test the technology on Bosque’s paintings. Unfortunately, just as the two young men discern that Georges did indeed capture something on the other side of the grave, their discovery causes dire consequences for anyone who enters the Projection Room.
In this gripping tale, two paintings hidden from the world for years unleash their powers onto an unsuspecting museum and a group of people completely unprepared for what awaits them.
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It was World War I. Georges trudged warily with his fellow soldiers.It was an unforgiving, cold autumn. Their French Army uniforms werebarely sufficient against the damp winds and mist that seeped intotheir very bones. It was a soggy fall twilight. The damp made the coldworse, and it chilled clear through their jackets and seeped into theirvery bones. There was no barrier against the frigid air. There was onlythe smell of decaying leaves and the sound of boots trudging throughthe thick mud that caked and weighed down their steps.
Georges looked to his left to see the body of a fellow soldier, stifffrom rigor mortis, who had turned an obscene color of pale blue. Thedead man's eyes were blank with a milky haze growing over them.The mouth was open and black, like the grave awaiting him. Georgeslooked away and kept moving. He recognized the soldier but didn'thave time to contemplate the passing of another life. He was mildlyhardened to the sight of death by now, but only mildly. He could onlyhope time would exorcise the horrors of what he had seen.
Soon after he passed the fallen soldiers, the sound of bullets flyinghotly through the frigid air erupted. He hit the ground and winced atthe cold solidness of the earth beneath him. The bullets whizzed pasthim, making a banshee cry near his ear. They were followed by thesounds of shells and mortars exploding in the mist before him. Hebriefly felt the stroke of the explosion on his face, and he instinctivelylifted his arm to protect his eyes and face. He was okay; it wasn't closeenough.
Men nearby cried out and panted for air as they tried with all theirmight to move through the mud. The sucking clay pulled like littlehands holding them back and tugging them down as if complicit withthe enemy. The sounds of gunfire, mortars, and men's shouts increasedas the final, timid streams of light pierced through the clouds beforefading.
Georges got up from the mud and ran, following two fellow soldiers.The three of them dashed for cover, but it was too late. Through themists and mounting darkness, bullets flew and finally found them.
There was a flash of light and buzzing, and he heard the sound ofhis own heavy breathing. Georges was lying in the mud on his belly.His helmet had been forcibly pushed off his head. He touched his headand then looked at his hand to see his own blood. Only then did itdawn on him he had been shot. He couldn't even recall how he hadended up lying in the mud. The insectlike buzzing sound in his earspersisted. He thought it odd to hear buzzing in this cold of autumn.For Georges, time seemed to have changed, moving forward in fitsand spurts. One of the other soldiers was facedown in the mud; he wasalready dead. The other was slumped against a tree stump, breathinghis dying breaths. Sights and sounds momentarily blended togetherand moved in spasms till they flowed back to normalcy again. The hotbuzzing in his ears subsided.
Georges finally became aware of his pain. His eyes narrowed fromthe agony. He strained to focus his vision at some movement up ahead.At first he thought it was German troops, but there wasn't the universalmovement of urgency and stealth common to soldiers in the heat ofbattle. Suddenly, two men seemed to form out of the very mist itself.They seemed unaware, unconcerned about the violence and chaosaround them. They were unflinching, steadfast, almost casual aboutthe bursts of gunfire and mortar explosions around them. They didn'tseem to react to any of it. Only the dying men around them seemedto pique their interest.
Georges watched them without fear. His curiosity outweighed hispersistent dizziness and pain. Both men were modestly dressed, likepeasants or poor farmers. Both had crude, soiled cloth satchels at theirsides. One had a cruel, hungry grimace on his face. His cold, blue eyeswere large and set deeply into cavernous orbital bones, but the irisesseemed far too small. The eyes were set unnaturally close to each other,adding a ravenous, predatory look. Those eyes hungrily scanned thehorizon in quick, jerky movements. The man's features were pointedand sharp, giving him an overall reptilian look. Thin wisps of dirtyblond hair swept over and around his head when the damp wind choseto move them. Georges retained enough of his faculties to feign deathas the man looked in his direction. Georges acted like hiding prey, ababy rabbit keenly aware of a merciless, hungry predator nearby.
The man walked past Georges. He approached the fallen soldierand poked him like a cruel child would a pained and helpless animal.He bent over to look into the man's face. The soldier was not yet dead.The dying man looked into the eyes of the cruel one. Immediately, thesoldier started to scream. Soon afterward, his eyes went empty andstill. He was dead. The cruel one placed his hand over the man's face.Long, bony white fingers seemed to draw out what must have beenthe last of his breath. A vapor rose out of the dead man's mouth andformed a small, pulsating sphere in the cruel one's hand. The vaporseemed to ball up tighter in the man's hand as he looked it over withcold disinterest. With his other hand, he opened the cloth satchel.To Georges, it seemed a mournful moan came from deep within thesatchel. He could see a deep darkness that absorbed all light in thesatchel. The man with the cruel eyes placed the ball of vapor into thedarkness, closed the cover, and moved on.
More movement caught Georges' eyes. The other man was dressedin almost the same manner as the cruel peasant, but Georges readsomething entirely different in him. His features were rounded, thick,and strong instead of thin and sharp. His face was oval, and he hadbrown, calm, clear eyes. Auburn hair swirled about his features fromtime to time. His jaw had a determined set to it as his eyes scanned thehorizon. Much like the first man, he seemed to be seeking something.But he didn't seem as much to be hunting as looking for a lost childor beloved pet.
This second man approached the second fallen soldier. He turnedhim over gently and looked sympathetically into his dead face and eyes.With thick fingers reddened by the cold, he also drew out a vapor fromthe dead man, but when he opened his satchel, a distant light emanatedfrom within it. There was a peaceful stillness where there should havebeen sound. He placed the vapor into his satchel and moved on.
The dead man's face momentarily flashed a look of peace before thepallor of death continued to grow over it. The other man moved on,seeming to follow his companion. But before he did, he locked eyeswith Georges, who wasn't able to feign death as quickly this time.
Instantly, the cruel one reappeared at his companion's side. It wasalmost as if there had been some form of communication betweenthem. They both looked at Georges. They seemed almost as surprisedthat they had been detected as Georges was to have gotten their notice.The cruel one stepped toward Georges, but the other one placed hisarm in front of him to block his path. The cruel one looked angrilyat his companion, as if he wanted to spit venom at him, but then heimpatiently moved on over the battlefield. It seemed that while theywere companions, they weren't friends. Georges had the sense that theywere adversaries forced to work together for a common cause.
The kinder of the two men looked at Georges briefly, knowingly.They locked eyes for a long moment, but then he moved on, followinghis cruel companion....
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