Chapter 8
WALTER WASN’Tstupid. He’d spaced out there for a bit in the trailer, but he’d seen his favorite auntie turn into a literal monster. He’d watched as her nails pierced a stone egg, and he hadn’t forgotten the murderous kangaroos that had rampaged through his set. The kangaroos themselves could be explained, but not the way they’d seem to unravel before his eyes. That told him one of two things had happened—either he’d accidently eaten some magic mushrooms… or something that belonged in a horror film was going on.
He was inclined to put it down to hallucinations except for one thing. He’dfeltthe possession. He could sense something completely foreign worming its way through his insides. It was like a living thing expanding through him, like the creature fromAlien, and that thought completely terrified him.
What the hell was he supposed to do about it? Fight it, obviously. But how? The good news was that it wasn’t something biological like inAlien. No weird plant thing had attached itself to his face, and nothing had slid down his throat to implant an egg in his torso. Yuck. No, this had to be some sort of energy, and as such, he could fight it, right? According to fantasy stories, humans could push out an energetic possession. That hope was the only thing keeping him from freaking out.
In fact, he would start fighting right now. “Okay, whatever you are. I’m not interested in sharing my body—”
One of the lighting techs ran up to his side. “We’ve cleaned up the sets, but one of the floor lights got broken,” he said.
Walter nodded, noting that the tech never said what broke it. Probably because no one else dared say the wordkangaroo. “Can you cover?”
“For this scene, yes. But we’re going to need it by tomorrow.”
“Get it ordered.” He’d have to skimp somewhere else, but what else was new?
Joanie, the makeup goddess, ran over to him. “You can’t go on like that. I’ve already got Josie working on your costume. You ripped it good, but she’s got it handled.”
Thank God for the J-girls. The whole place would fall apart without Joanie and Josie. “Yeah, I’m heading to makeup now.”
The Italian director, Taide Percoco, made it to his side. “The schedule’s fucked for today, but if we can do it in one take, we’ve got a prayer of making it up with an early call.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure—” Walter said, but then he faltered. He froze looking at the ropes, and everybody tailing him stumbled.
“Is there a problem?” the director asked. “It took a bit, but there wasn’t as much damage as I feared.”
The set looked just as it did before. Cables and lights were back in place, scenery was fixed or removed, and even the camera operators were in position waiting for him. The problem was him and those damn ropes.
Memory washed over him in a nausea-inducing flashback. He’d been trapped up there, hanging by the ropes without any way to get down. He’d been vulnerable and terrified, especially when those huge kangaroos had started going crazy beneath him. He’d seen one’s tail smash through the floor light. He’d watched as the other kicked one of their golf carts across the room. But that was nothing compared to when one of them had accidentally knocked him with its head. The thing had been turning around and had clipped Walter’s legs. That had sent him spinning, swinging back and forth, in and out of reach of the kangaroo’s massive jaws. He hadn’t thought kangaroos had big teeth until he’d gone eye to incisor with them. They were like beaver teeth. One chomp could cut through his ankle or his throat.
Rather than just swing there and scream, he’d started kicking, punching, and whatever else he could manage while he careened back and forth from the ceiling. Adrenaline had burned every horrifying detail into his memory—including the way the ropes had cut off his breath. He hadn’t been able to breathe while fighting for his life against two crazed kangaroos. The idea of going back into those restraints had him hyperventilating from terror.
“I can’t do it,” he rasped.
“What?” That came from three voices at once.
“I can’t go up there right now.”
Taide spun around to face him directly. “Don’t freak out on me. You’re Walter, brilliant writer and actor. You can get up there and—”
He wasn’t anything but a guy doing the best he could with what limited resources he had. There wasn’t anything brilliant about desperation, but he still let the director’s words buoy him. A little. Until he remembered the cut of the ropes across his chest, the way they had dug in and held him fast while a kangaroo bellowed at him.
“No,” he said. Then he made a suggestion because he’d learned never to say no without offering an alternative. “I’ll do the scene without the ropes.”
Silence. With a flick of his fingers, Taide told the others to get lost. Then he smiled in that way people do when they’re humoring a lunatic. Or a freaked-out writer. “I know you’re working extra hard, and everyone’s been impressed by how your monkey stuff has come along.”
“It’s a real kung fu style,” he grumbled. “And I can do it.”
“Of course you can. But this scene requires extra skill. You’re drunk, remember? So you have to lose, but it’s got to look snazzy. Exciting. And unless you’ve become an acrobat in the last hour, you’ve got to be in the ropes.”
“I can do it,” he said firmly. He didn’t know where such confidence came from, but he felt the assurance in his belly. He lifted his chin as he faced off with Taide.
“We’ll shoot the entire scene now. That’ll get us back on schedule. Set the cameras up for all the fight moves. Have one close in on me, one on—”
“I know where to set the cameras,” Taide interrupted. “But it’ll be wasted time if you can’t make it look good.” He blew out a breath. “Don’t let the movie go to hell because you’re afraid of the ropes.”
“I’m not afraid of the damned ropes,” he snapped. No, he was terrified of getting trapped again. Of seeing his leg get bit off by a kangaroo. “I’m fixing the schedule.” Then, when Taide opened his mouth to argue, Walter said the one thing he’d sworn he’d never say on set. “I’m the boss. We’re doing it my way.” Then he headed straight to makeup.
