by Jack Wallen
Sonja gave me a pat. “Worst case scenario…he has to return to the drop site to get his rig fixed and then he’ll be back on the scene.”
“Yeah, until that time we have no idea what’s going on. The man could be dead for all we know!”
“Malcolm, we’re making a movie – not surviving an apocalypse. Booth will be fine. He’ll get his ass back here and I’ll get his rig back up and running. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Sonja had a way of keeping me from melting down.
“You’re right. I’m over reacting. Sorry hon.”
With a breath and a sigh, Sonja and I were able to get back to the action.
“Oh shit, look!” Sonja squealed.
Eddie had Seven-fold facing eleven nineteen. The young male wasn’t attempting to sneak away from the house; he was simply meeting a young female. The two stood below the floodlights mounted above the garage door, their lips locked in eternal, raging hormonal bliss.
“It really doesn’t get any better than this.” Sonja winked.
I winked back.
She was right. This happy accident of a scene could easily serve as the inciting incident of the film. All we had to do was get Sevenfold Zombie in a position to attack the young couple.
My lips separated to give Eddie some direction. Before so much as a breath could leave my lungs, Eddie had the zombie moving toward the kissing couple. Their hormones had them so consumed with one another; they didn’t hear the zombie about to strike.
Seven-fold grabbed handfuls of hair from both the male and female and dragged them both to the ground. With his knuckles knotted in well-coifed tresses, the zombie managed to repeatedly smack the heads of the actors into the cement below. The usual helping of blood sprayed and splashed. The young couple screamed out; the agony of the cries almost too real to swallow. After a few swift smacks to the cement, the screams were silenced. The zombie actor gave both skulls a final crushing blow to open up the skulls for all to behold. Pale fingers dug deep into the brain cavities of the kids, scooped out fake looking brains, and stuffed the gray matter into his mouth and chewed. Blood poured from the lips and teeth of the actor as his eyes rolled deep within the recesses of his mind.
Sonja and I stared on in silence, as the actor played out his role to an almost sickening perfection. No words could convey the scene Eddie Mixx just filmed – his lens a microscope to reveal the muck and mire of some newfound, human damnation.
“That’s not possible.” Sonja whispered. “That’s not possible!” The repetition voiced with more volume and force. “Malcolm, that’s not fucking possible!”
I stepped over to the editing desk. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before. The Mixx feed was still live on the monitor, but was easily replayed, frame by frame.
“What are you doing?” Sonja called out.
“What we should have done a while ago – find the ghost in this machine.”
Sonja left her station to hover behind me. I backed the feed up to the moment before the actor interrupted the macking teens.
“One by one, the pillars gave way until the city crumbled to dust.” My voice was a whispered gift to the partner I left behind too many years ago. His breath and life were now no more than a memory. Sonja patted my shoulder, fully understanding the tribute.
The frames ticked by; frozen moment by frozen moment, until the entire scene had played out.
“Again.” Sonja demanded to see the freeze-frame scene once more.
“Nothing. There is not a single detail in that scene to indicate how they pulled this off. For all we know, what we just witnessed was real.”
My words hung in time and danced around a possible, implausible truth neither Sonja nor I wanted to accept.
“No. I refuse to believe that. This is a film. We are making a movie. Hollywood doesn’t…we don’t…Jesus Christ Malcolm, what’s going on?” Sonja was on the verge of losing her wits.
I stood and turned. My hand gently reached up and found the soft cheek of my assistant.
“Sweetness, we’ve seen this before. Special effects departments pulling pranks on crews. This film has a budget like nothing we’ve ever seen. Given the nature of how this bitch is filmed, they’ve just had to go a few extra miles to make it work without CGI, stunts, or, well, the usual means.”
Even as the words spilled from my mouth, I didn’t believe them. I wanted to weep, drool, and hide away from what I wanted to be little more than my own overripe imagination.
“You mean like Wes Craven’s New Nightmare?”
I smiled at the reference to one of the master’s franchise pieces.
“Exactly. Only our special effects aren’t going to come to life and kill us all.”
I guided Sonja back to her station, glancing over my shoulder at the still-frame moment on the editing station monitor. The mechanisms of order were rotting from within. I had to somehow get to the bottom of how these effects and scenes were being pulled off before I lost faith in my ability to remain sane.
There was only one way I was going to get to the heart of this madness.
“Sonja, I’m leaving you in charge of directing for a moment. I need to have a word or two with our employers.”
Brilliant eyes looked back at me. Words served no purpose at the moment; I could feel the meaning behind the gaze.
“I promise I’ll be careful and hold my tongue.”
I lied. We had to know, beyond the veil of shadows, how they were pulling off the impossible. Besides, what could the backers do to me? T-Minus Zero couldn’t be done without my flavor of magic. Burgess knew I was the glue holding this great carnival ride together.
“Don’t be long Malcolm.” Sonja waved as I eased the door shut.
The air outside was cool, the night sky black and lonely. It felt good to step away from technology for a moment. The constant hum and thrum of machines wormed its way into the brain. I always felt the Singularity couldn’t possibly occur. Even if it did, the human race would be zombies well before the machines could take over. Without man to witness the Singularity happen, did that tree make a sound in the woods? I think not.
I got into the car and closed the door. The HQ building wasn’t far, but there wasn’t time to waist on a jaunty walk. This discussion had to happen quickly so I could get back to the task at hand.
*
When I entered the meeting room, every pair of eyes turned to me in shock.
“Malcolm, what in the name of pre-production shit are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be busy doing your job?”
Burgess stood; his heft and girth happy to be freed from the confines of the expensive office chair.
“Yes, I should. But I can’t seem to do my job, because I’m plagued by questions.”
John Burgess folded his great arms at his chest, his eyes shrinking and his lips pursing. This might not go over quite as planned.
“Questions? Such as?” Burgess prodded me on.
“How are you pulling off those stunts and effects? I’ve watched footage, frame by frame, and cannot figure this out. I’ve worked in the film industry for decades and no one has ever been able to do live effects of this caliber. Not Winston, not Savini…none of them.”
A smile skated across the large man’s rosy cheeks. “My dear director, you know better than to pull back the curtain to see how the sausage is made. What you see might well spoil the surprise or drive you mad.” The over-sized man gestured to the men and women seated around the room. “We are in the business of miracles, just like you. What we are doing is preparing the world for the future of…” The slightest hesitation caught Burgess in the throat. “Entertainment. What you are witnessing is the birth of Jurassic Park meets The Walking Dead.”
I started to speak unknown words driven by slow-burning anger. Burgess cut me off by placing a weighty arm around my shoulders.
“Malcolm, you’re in the business of entertainment. What would you give to be on the cutting edge of the next great thing? You’d give
both of your balls if my research of you is correct. These beautiful, brilliant minds have culled research data from every possible related industry and have drawn some fascinating conclusions. Ultimately, what we have found is that the human race is ready for the next rung of the evolutionary ladder – of thrill. With your help, we are creating the first step of what will be one of the greatest marketing schemes to ever be released. Once this goes viral, and it will, everything you have known will change. Entertainment will know no boundaries and the consumer palette will forever desire your creation. This bitch will make reality TV look like yesterday’s Gilligan’s Island.”
A stubby, sausage-like finger poked me in the chest.
“You want to be part of history, don’t you?”
Honestly? I had no idea what Burgess was selling, but it sounded utterly brilliant. The barrage of buzzwords he inflicted upon me was enough to bring me to my pop-cultured knees.
“Yes, but – ”
“No buts,” Burgess interrupted with another steel-rod finger to my chest. “You film, you don’t question. You finish…you’re rich beyond belief. You fail, you suffer the consequences.”
The word hung in the air, a guillotine for the neck of my intelligence and integrity. This was that moment of crossroad, where I could just as easily walk out the door and back into the real world without concern for John’s ‘consequences’. There was, of course, another hand in the game. That ‘other hand’ was a dark unknown. With untold riches comes untold power. Yes, I could walk away from the project – straight to an untimely death. Burgess had that look, set deep within his eyes, of a man convicted by his convictions and willing to take steps most weren’t willing to take in order to succeed.
And then, out of nowhere, Burgess smiled and patted me on the back.
“Malcolm, we’re making magic! What could be better? Look, we’ve invested hundreds of millions of dollars to make this dream a reality. Reality as in realistic. Everything you see through your cameras is the only truth you need to know at the moment. Reality and fiction have finally collided and you, my friend, are going to be the beneficiary of that marriage. You’re pocketing more money then you’ve ever been paid for a single gig. Get this baby in the can and you can retire to the beach. Surround yourself with sweat-soaked cabana boys and live the dream. In the end, everyone wins.”
It wasn’t enough. The reality Burgess sold had no business in my films.
“Mr. Burgess, my silence will not be bought.”
“Nor do I expect it to be.” John turned away and moved to a chest at the end of the room. “Here.” A large cardboard mailing sized-tube was thrust my way. When I jumped, Burgess chuckled. “My good man, these are just schematics – they will not bite. Take these back to your directing booth and go over them. I believe what you see within these drawings will appease your growing concern.”
I carefully wrapped my hands around the proffered tube. Judging from the weight, there would be plenty of delights within to stem the tide of doubt. My paranoia eased away. Maybe Sonja and I were seeing something that wasn’t really there. Or maybe it was simply jealousy fueling our fire. It was rare that I couldn’t see the machines behind the magic; but Burgess and company had me completely fooled. That was a hard pill to swallow. So instead of pushing further, there was nothing left to do but capitulate and return to the booth, schematics in hand.
“Malcolm,” Burgess stopped me as my hand held the handle of the door. “Everyone can be bought. It’s just a matter of tacking on a few more zeros. What’s your price? Say I made you the highest paid director in the history of Hollywood? How would that ease your paranoia? I believe James Cameron raked in a cool two hundred forty-eight million for his film Avatar. How does two hundred fifty million sound to you? Three extra zeros will buy a lot of cabana boys and vodka tonics.”
The smile slipped from my lips without warning. I wanted to slap my own face for betraying my conscience. Instead I walked out of the building with both a sense of elation and unease desperately clinging to my heart. Though Burgess made his point, he didn’t bother convincing me of his innocence. He had both the polish of Hollywood and the oil of the machine of commerce under his nails. I, on the other hand, still had the wide-open soul of an artist and wasn’t about to give up on my craft. Something would reveal itself within the schematics to prove my fear founded. That something, however, could easily be buried under a mountain of money.
As soon as the car door shut, a heavy sigh escaped my lips.
“Please don’t let this be a mistake.”
I pointed the wheels of the vehicle toward the director’s booth and watched the HQ building shrink in the rear view.
Chapter 15
“Damn it Burgess. That was downright irresponsible, handing over those blueprints!” Thomas Dentworth stood and violently pointed a finger Burgess’ way. “Should our secrets escape this establishment – ”
“Relax Thomas, everything is under control.”
“You are being reckless with your power.”
Everyone in the room stiffened as John Burgess popped the knuckles in his fat fingers and cracked his dew-lapped neck.
“Thomas, I’ve everything under control. It’s in your best interest to drop that matter immediately.”
Dentworth scanned the room to see nothing but fearful wide-eyes starting back. He’d overstepped the boundary of power and he knew it. Instead of continuing his push forward, he smoothed down the front of his jacket and took his seat.
“Well played Dentworth. Besides, what the good director will find in those drawings and plans will go so far over his head he’ll give up in minutes. That is…unless the director we hired happens to moonlight as a bio-chemist.” Everyone in the room followed suit with Burgess’ laugh. “Besides, if the man causes us any more trouble, I’ll simply send him to the lab where they will take care of our little problem.”
Burgess flopped back into his chair with a laugh of a darker nature.
“Is that in control enough for you?”
Dentworth gave a nervous tick of a nod back to Burgess. Everyone in the room breathed a healthy sigh of relief.
And then…eyes went wide again.
“Looks like our subject has finished dining.” One of the board members called out.
Burgess immediately turned the sound up on the monitor in question. On the screen, the zombie swallowed the last bit of the teens’ gray matter and stood. As the beast released a wall-shaking moan, the door to the house swung open to reveal a man holding a shotgun at his side. The second the zombie realized fresh meat had been delivered, it reached out and took the man’s head in its hands.
The stranger struggled against a grip that gave no quarter.
“What the fuck?” The man cried out as the zombie forced the struggling head nearer to the black maw of death.
Yellowed, clacking teeth clamped down on the man’s lips, muting his cries for help. Flailing arms struggled to force the attacker away. The muffled pleas grew desperate as blood fountained from between the two faces. Even in the midst of an undead kiss, the man positioned the barrel of the shotgun at the zombie’s chest and pulled the trigger. The blast sent the unsealed thing flying backwards. Like a rubber ball; the zombie instantly bounced back up and went in for a second course. Before he could get near enough to dine, the shotgun was leveled on the monster’s head and the trigger was pulled.
Bits of skull and shreds of flesh flew out in a one hundred and eighty degree display of death. The remaining body of the zombie dropped, motionless to the ground. The man with the gun followed suit and dropped to his knees, his hands to his lips to try and staunch the flow of blood. When he pulled his hands away, half of his tongue came along for the ride. Before the gun made carnage of the thing’s chest, the beast managed to bite through the pink meat of the man’s tongue. The ruined mouth could not call out; the flow of blood rushed from between the shredded lips and down the throat. The unknown man was bleeding out and drowning simultaneously.
Soon after the battle began, it ended with a hollow thud of the unknown man’s body hitting the ground.
The board of the Collective watched in rapt, silent attention.
“Wait for it,” Burgess whispered.
Around the room, breath was held in anticipation for what would come next. None but the creator of the chaos fully understood what would happen. That ignorance did not last long.
It began with a low, almost imperceptible moan.
Silence teased the audience, before the sound returned. This time the moan rattled loud enough to not be mistaken.
“Is that…” a curious voice lofted across the boardroom, before it was shushed to silence.
The moan gained more volume and intensity until one of the dead man’s arms jerked upward. The jump-cut movement shocked half of the board out of their seats.
“John! What have you done?” L. A. Wenning’s voice shot across the room.
Burgess continued watching and smiled. “I’ve remade man into monster and myself into God.”
The dead man’s arm jerked again; only this time it held itself aloft, as if the moment simply froze in time. The fingers, however, continued a frenzied dance as if trying to escape the ties that bound them to the hand. Before the fingers could complete their undead dance, the second arm spasmed and shot upward.
Another monstrous moan brought gasps from the audience.
It wasn’t until the zombie sat up, that the fainter of heart in the board room face planted into the table.
“But your dead will live; their corpses will rise. You, who dwell in the dust, wake up and shout for joy. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead.” John Burgess stood and let the moment wash over him. “I have done what no man has done before. Life from death. Fiction to reality. I am God and Frankenstein and I will have my revenge!”
As Burgess finished his mad proclamation, the dead man on the screen rose to his feet. Sickening moans and thickening blood continued to pour from the tongue-less mouth.
