It had been a long day already, and the light would soon fade. Waltz frog-marched her ahead. “Such a shame,” he said. “Too bad your obsession with filmmaking caused you to do something so foolish. ‘Fanatic film fan sneaks into movie studio. Sick with grief at the death of Darius Plover, she loses all capacity for reason, inserts herself into an ongoing production, and has a fatal accident.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“What’s happened to Professor Thrillkill?” Amanda demanded.
Waltz pinched her shoulder. It hurt but she refused to let him see how much. “You saw perfectly well. If you think hard enough you can probably replay the scene in your mind. That should help.”
Why are bad people always so sarcastic? she thought, but she said, “Your dialog is terrible.”
Waltz laughed. “Still bossing people, I see.”
She pulled her shoulder away but he held on. “You’re a creep.”
“Why thank you. I try.” He grinned at her.
The man was more infuriating than Blixus. The two were equally cruel, but Waltz was so much smarmier. Whatever she thought of Blixus, the man had poise and enjoyed the finer things in life. Waltz was just a boor. What her mother saw in him she couldn’t imagine.
Ahead of them lay a massive outdoor set. Such things were rare. Directors liked to film indoors whenever possible so they wouldn’t have to worry about weather and lighting. But sometimes the scale required of a production was so huge that even the most capacious sound stages wouldn’t do, and then they’d build outside. It was weird to see something like that in England, though, where the weather was notoriously bad and the lighting poor. Whoever had come up with this one must have had their reasons.
The set was gigantic. The designer had created a steampunk-themed sea battle between a copper boatish thing and a metal monster that looked suspiciously like a giant red spider, or maybe Amanda just had spiders on the brain. The structures were surrounded by water. The area was so dangerous that there were warning signs all around it. Waltz snuck Amanda around the back and said, “You love making movies? Have at it.”
As he moved her into place the jar slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. Glass went flying everywhere, and the spiders scurried away as fast as they could. Yelping, he opened a door in the sea monster and forced Amanda inside, bolting it behind her. She could hear the latch go clunk and then his footsteps moving away as well as a bunch of cursing about the broken glass and the escaping spiders.
She banged on the door but it held fast. She screamed at the top of her lungs and the noise reverberated, but no one came. For some reason she thought of Thrillkill and his locked room mysteries, but that just made her sad and angry and she screamed until she was hoarse.
Realizing that she was wasting energy, she turned around to see what the cavity was like. Full of metal struts, columns, and beams and lined with what looked like aluminum, it reminded her of the Moriartys’ sugar factory on a smaller scale. For all intents and purposes it was just a big metal container.
Then she heard a noise, the groaning of metal on metal, and the monster began to move. It shuddered, then stopped. Then another shudder, and another, as the motor revved up. Then, within seconds, the groaning became a hum and it was writhing and thrashing the way a real sea monster would, if such a thing existed. Amanda was thrown this way and that. She lost her balance and fell. She looked around for a way to brace herself but couldn’t see anything. The rocking and heaving was deadly. She slid from one side to the other, then back again. It was like riding ten bucking broncos. It was a good thing she’d already emptied her stomach. If it didn’t stop soon she would be pureed!
She eyed some pipes and gizmos over by one of the walls. Could she get hold of them? She tried to edge her way over, but she kept slipping and soon her butt was sore. As soon as she’d get close to something that might serve as a handle she’d be thrown the other way, only to be similarly frustrated with the next thrust. The setting would make for a great action scene but the motion was tearing her apart!
Someone on the boat outside started shooting at the monster. The noise when the bullets—or whatever they were, since they obviously couldn’t be real—hit the monster was deafening. She held her ears, but that meant she couldn’t brace herself. Between the noise and the motion she didn’t know if she’d be deaf or dead first.
Was there a way to make the thrashing stop? What if she were to bang on the metal with something hard? Perhaps someone would hear. She was wearing trainers so she couldn’t use her shoes. Her skateboard was gone and she didn’t have her bag. Was there any loose metal in the place? She tried to pull a pipe off but couldn’t hold onto it long enough. Oh well. It would have to be her shoe. She pulled the right one off and banged on the floor, but it was like a whisper in a thunderstorm. She was sure the people outside could hear nothing. She couldn’t even hear herself.
There was one other possibility but it was remote. The creature had an eye made out of clear plastic. If she could get to it she might be able to send a signal. But what? Wave her arms? It was an idea anyway.
The problem was that Amanda couldn’t properly aim herself at the eye with all that motion going on. She just landed wherever the monster threw her. But perhaps she could tack and get there little by little, if she wasn’t killed first.
This maneuver was easier said than done. She inched toward the eye and was thrown in another direction, so she tried again, but the result was the same. Then she realized that whenever she moved she’d be thrown at such and such an angle, so instead of going in a straight line she tacked a few degrees to the left. To her surprise the next time she was thrown the other way she’d come a little closer to the eye.
She visualized a game she’d played on her phone, and that was when she realized exactly what she needed to do. This motion was a lot like that. You had to fool the game to make progress. She might be able to trick the sea monster the same way. She tried the strategy she’d used in the game and it worked! Little by little she figured out how to distribute her weight so that the motion took her in a particular direction. One step forward, two steps back. More like ten, actually.
Finally, butt throbbing and body battered she made it to the eye, stood up, and waved frantically before falling down again. She tried to see if the crew was watching but it was impossible to tell. The sun was getting so low that it was in her eyes, and—
Wait a minute. If only she could create a flash, or a glint, or something. She pulled back her hair and aimed an earring toward the eye.
The monster was moving so fast that she would lose the light any second, if she could even manage to hold on. She held her ear as close to the eye as she could, lifting and turning the earring in the hope that it would catch the light. Her neck felt as if she’d been in an auto accident, and her whole body hurt from knocking against the walls.
Then suddenly the monster stopped cold and the inertia threw her to the floor. She could hear someone yelling very faintly, “Cut, cut, cut!” It was a wonder she could hear anything at all the way her ears were ringing, but she was so grateful for the stillness that she didn’t care.
She could hear splashing, then the sound of the door Waltz had shoved her through. A long-haired young man opened it and peered in. Amanda was down at the other end and could barely see him.
“Hey,” said the guy, shining a light in her face. “What are you doing in here?” He pressed something on his phone and said, “There’s a girl in here. Damn tourists. They’re always sneaking away from the guides.”
Amanda could hear what she assumed was the director on the other end of the phone, and he was yelling. Her ears were so messed up she wasn’t sure what he was saying but it sounded like, “Get her out of there.” She didn’t care if he was mad. She wanted to be out of there too.
She rubbed her ear. Her hearing was coming back. Now the director said, “Ow! Something bit me. That hurts,” and Amanda could hear what could only be described as grimacing noises. Then in
a calmer voice he said, “Say, Marty, would you tell me why I’m making this dumb movie anyway. I hate this action stuff. I always wanted to make comedies. Why won’t they let me make comedies, Marty?”
“Wow,” said the young guy, holding the phone to his chest and turning to Amanda. “I’ve never heard him talk like that before. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was drunk.”
The spiders! They had bitten the director and he was spilling his guts. Under other circumstances the situation would have been hilarious.
Marty stepped into the cavity and made his way to Amanda. “You should know better,” he said. “Can’t you read? It’s dangerous here.”
He pulled her roughly by the arm, then pushed her out of the monster into a rowboat.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I was kidnapped. You’ve got to call the police.”
“That’s what they all say,” he said, and began to row.
When they had reached the other edge of the fake ocean he pulled her out of the rowboat, flagged down a tram, and installed her on it, saying "Keep to the designated areas. Don’t let me catch you on our set again.” Then he was gone and the tram was moving.
“Driver,” she yelled up to the front. “Let me off.”
“Sorry, miss, we’re on a schedule,” the teenage driver called back. “You’ll have to hold it.”
The woman next to her leaned over and said conspiratorially, “He’s not a very good tour guide. The one we had last month was much better. By the way, here’s a little secret. If you look at the trailers, you have the best chance of seeing the stars. I’ve seen Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, and David Tennant that way. Here, I’ll show you the pictures.”
The woman lifted her phone, swiped a couple of times, and shoved it in Amanda’s face. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she said, stroking the screen.
Amanda didn’t want to look but she was so close to the phone she didn’t have any choice. She had no idea who she was looking at, especially since she could barely see the guy’s face. She was pretty familiar with British film actors too, even the minor ones, so it was rather surprising. Not that she cared. She needed to get out of there. The woman kissed the phone and Amanda thought she’d lose it. But at least she could think now.
Was it actually possible that Waltz had the rest of the Bible? It didn’t seem likely. He’d had to steal the two pages he did possess. If he had the rest he’d really have something valuable and could trade it or use it as he wished. He wasn’t acting as if that were the case though. He seemed all bluff.
But there was a wild card in all of this drama: Lila. She was obviously colluding with him, although whether she realized what he was up to Amanda didn’t know. She’d never shown any inclination to hurt the detectives, and why should she? Sure she was bitter and angry about being sidelined, but that didn’t seem like enough to turn her to the dark side. Perhaps she was giving Waltz classified information without realizing it.
Was it possible that Lila knew where the Bible was? It seemed unlikely. With all the tools and manpower the detectives had at their disposal they hadn’t found it, so how would she have done so? But—
What if the Bible David had thrown in the pit wasn’t the real one? What if it were a facsimile? There had been many of those floating around before the earthquake. If that were the case the real Bible could be anywhere. But that didn’t make sense. Where did the two obviously genuine pages come from if not from the real Bible?
Amanda was so lost in thought she didn’t notice that the tram was ascending what felt like a nearly vertical rise. The path was so narrow it felt as if they were on a goat trail and she suddenly realized there were sheer dropoffs on both sides. It was the weirdest movie studio she’d ever seen. The effects were way better than at Universal Studios. When she got out of this she and Nick would come back and take the tour for real. It would be awesome.
What was especially creepy was that the sky was getting dark. That made the climb and the dropoff really scary. Amanda felt as if she were staring into the abyss. She hoped the driver knew what he was doing. His patter didn’t fill her with confidence.
And for good reason. The idiot stopped right at the crest of the hill. He seemed to think that was a good place to deliver a lecture, because he turned around and went into a big spiel about how it had been used in the various movies the studio had produced and seemed to have to list every one, which ran to at least a dozen. He was obviously making some people nervous because a few of them kept looking over the side. One woman was even wringing her hands.
At last the driver finished his lecture, restarted the engine, and crept down the other side, which wasn’t nearly as steep, although it did wind a lot. Amanda’s stomach was so empty that she didn’t have to worry about hurling, but a couple of the other people looked green in the face, and she moved as far to the side as possible just in case.
How much longer was this stupid tour going to take anyway? If the guy would only stop the tram in a level place, then—wait a minute. She could get him to do just that. All she’d have to do was—
“Aaaaaaaah!!!” she screamed. “Eeeee-ooooo! Agh, agh, agh!”
The poor woman next to her dropped her phone and covered her ears.
“Aaaaaaagggghhhhh!” Amanda yelled at the top of her lungs. “Eeeeeeeeeeek!!!”
“Shut up!” everyone yelled.
“What is wrong with you?” said someone behind her.
“She’s having a fit!” yelled a young woman with a baby.
That did it. The driver pulled over, stopped the engine, and spoke into his radio.
“Emergency on Tram 19. Send security and an ambulance to the corner of Kate Winslet Avenue and Daniel Radcliffe Drive.”
But Amanda was already gone. In the chaos she’d managed to sneak off the tram and slip away, and when security arrived, all that was left of her was a lot of sore ears and a broken cell phone.
Escaping from the tram was supposed to be a good thing, but it turned out to be a trip from the frying pan into the fire, for once she’d got free Amanda found herself in the middle of a dense jungle. Tropical plants and trees grew everywhere—most of them fake since real ones would never survive in the English climate—and it felt as if she were in the middle of the Amazon. But it wasn’t just that there were lots of plants. Every way she turned they looked the same and she had no idea how to get out. The one saving grace was that the place was lit up like a nighttime baseball game, and she could see everything as clearly as if it were noon.
Suddenly there came a long ululating cry, and a man in animal skins came swinging down from one of the trees and grabbed her. Tarzan! Now Amanda screamed for real. She was so startled she couldn’t help herself.
The man swung the two of them to a nearby tree and said, “Be quiet! You’re ruining the shot.” Then she heard the director of whatever it was off in the distance yell, “Cut!” A couple of crew members wheeled a platform over to the tree and Tarzan descended, pulling Amanda along with him.
“Who’s that?” said the crew guy. “Hey, you’re not supposed to leave the tours. How many times—”
Suddenly Tarzan squawked and held his arm. Could it be? Yes it could, for the next thing he said was, “Mommy, I hate spiders! I promise if you make it go away I’ll never wet the bed again.”
Despite her distress Amanda thought this was the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time—even more than the director who wanted to make comedies—and let out a huge guffaw.
“Don’t laugh at me, Mommy!” Tarzan pleaded. “I couldn’t help it. Please don’t tell Daddy.”
Now the actor was becoming pathetic and Amanda began to feel sorry for him. The poor guy must have had terrible personal issues. She was so embarrassed for him she wanted to cuddle him.
The director was slogging his way to the tree. When he got close he said, “Who are you? Get off my set. Colin, get this kid out of here.”
Colin, whoever he was, suddenly appeared and grabbed Amanda by the arm. He was a you
ng sandy-haired fellow with a nicely trimmed beard.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “This is all a mistake. Can I just—”
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Colin said. “You tourists are all alike. You think if you sneak off the tour you’re going to meet the cast of ‘Downton Abbey’ or something. You know, they’re just people like the rest of us.”
“I know!” said Amanda. “I know—I knew—Darius Plover.”
“Oh now you’re just sad,” said Colin. “I’ve known a lot of ‘em like you. They all become delusional after a while. You need help, lassie.”
“I do not need help I knew Darius Plover he was my mentor we worked together on King Arthur—”
“Off the set now!” said the director. “I’ve warned you about this, Colin. Now do your job or you’ll end up back in television.”
“Yes, sir,” said Colin, and spirited Amanda out of the jungle and onto Anthony Hopkins Road, sending her off with the helpful advice to “get a life.”
Amanda had had just about enough of this. She knew all about show business folk and their foibles. After all, she was one of them. But these people were beyond self-absorbed. She would have to find a better way to go around them. Time to call in the big guns. She’d find a way to phone Ivy.
Contacting Ivy was easier said than done. Whenever Amanda asked if she could borrow someone’s phone they’d stare at her or just turn away. Of course she couldn’t see herself so she didn’t realize just how scary she looked: hair like a rat’s nest, bruises all over, bits of stuff you wouldn’t even want to think about on her clothing. It was no wonder no one wanted to talk to her.
She sat down on a bench to think. Now that she was out of the way she was hit by a sense of panic, first about Thrillkill and then about Waltz. Thrillkill was probably dead. She couldn’t face one more loss. With Professor Redleaf, Darius, and Professor Sidebotham all gone, Professor Ducey paralyzed, and Professor Snaffle missing, she’d had her fill of grief. But more than that, she’d grown fond of the gruff headmaster and didn’t know what she’d do without him.
Amanda Lester and the Red Spider Rumpus Page 23
