Call the Shots

by Don Calame

  “No. Absolutely not. Humanzees don’t talk.” Coop shakes his head.

  “What about me?” Evelyn asks. “Shouldn’t I have some dialogue in this scene? Why am I at this party to begin with? What’s my motivation? Should I attempt to thwart the humanzee attack?”

  “No. No. No.” Coop is looking panicky. “Don’t say anything. Nobody say anything. This is a key scene in the movie. It’s the very first outbreak. Nashira is there as a witness. So she can go back and report it to her brother. That’s all. Your motivation is to just take it in and be terrified.” He flips through his notebook. “Okay, now. I’m going to slip in the front door and head straight to the party. Acting all cazh. Like I’m there to partake in the festivities. Monkeys, I want you to sneak in the service entrance. Let’s hope you don’t run into anyone. It’s Sunday, so it shouldn’t be too busy. But anybody stops you, just say you’re a surprise for Rico Petrelli’s party.” He flips a page in the book. “Once you’re inside, don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t waste any time. Just find the party and rush right in, roaring as loud as you can, waving your hairy arms in the air. If you can manage it, try and chase the people toward the emergency exits.”

  “And what are we doing while all this is going on?” Helen asks.

  “You take a whack of still photos as the guests run outside,” Coop says. “As many as possible. Try to get people’s horrified expressions. We can edit those into the movie. It’ll make a cool effect. Like a running photographer’s record of the first outbreak or something. Evelyn and Val, you’ll come with me. Val will run camera while I direct. And Evelyn, we’ll get you to mingle in the party. Sit at one of the tables at the front if you can. Try to stay inconspicuous. We don’t want anyone to be suspicious. And Uncle Doug, you keep the getaway vehicle running in the parking lot with all the doors open, ready for us to make our escape.”

  Uncle Doug raises his smoky joint. “Righty-oh.”

  “Once we’ve got our shots,” Coop continues, “everyone get the hell back into the van, stat. No screwing around. We’ll have maybe a minute, two minutes max, where everyone’ll be too confused to know what the hell’s going on. But eventually someone’s going to call the cops, and we want to be long gone by the time they arrive.”

  “You’re damn straight,” Uncle Doug chimes in. “I’ve got a pillowcase full of yerba maté in the boot of this bad boy. And I definitely don’t need the fuzz finding that.”

  “HERE WE BE,” UNCLE DOUG SAYS, turning the van into the parking lot of the Elk Hills Country Club. The building looks sort of like a squat, elongated White House. It’s definitely high-class, for sure. And absolutely no place we should be going dressed up like feral monkey-men.

  Uncle Doug drives around back to the service entrance, parks between two trucks, and lets the engine idle. I can’t stay in this smoke-and-fart-filled sardine can any longer, so I push past Coop, yank open the side door, and am the first to leap out.

  I breathe as deep as I can through the golf ball–size hole at the back of my monkey-mouth. The fresh air — as fresh as it can be, filtered through the plastic of my mask — eases the nauseous feeling that churns my gut. Thank God. I thought I was going to lose it there for a moment. But I’m okay now. My head’s still swimming a bit, but I’m no longer at code orange.

  I quickly scan the area. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around outside, so that’s good.

  Coop, Matt, and Nick hop down from the van and huddle around me.

  “Remember,” Coop says. “The louder and scarier you are, the more crazed the people will be and the more realistic it will seem. Really get into the roles you’re playing. Keep in mind the situation you’re in. You guys are pissed off because you’ve been turned into zombie-vampire-chimpanzees. And these people are having a freakin’ party. They don’t care. But you want to make them care. You want to infect the world so that everyone can feel your pain.”

  Val, Helen, and Evelyn step out onto the pavement. Helen checks the settings on the DSLR while Evelyn slips on a chain-draped jacket.

  “I just got this the other day,” Evelyn says. “I thought it looked like Nashira. What do you think?”

  “It looks . . . great,” I say, wondering where she lifted it from. “Definitely Nashira-esque.”

  Coop grabs the video camera and hands it to Valerie. “We’ve only got one shot at this, so let’s get it right.”

  “As long as there are no big-boobed girls in the room to distract me”— Val smirks as she hoists the camera onto her shoulder —“I should be fine.”

  Coop flashes her a screw-you smile, then turns to us. “Okay, humanzees.” He points to the service door. “Get going. Before someone sees you.”

  “Wait a second. I almost forgot.” Helen grabs her purse from the backseat. She removes three dark-red capsules and hands one to each of us monkeys. “They’re filled with stage blood. You just bite down on them and the blood will spill from your mouth.”

  “Cool.” Matt holds the little pill between his thumb and forefinger, examining it.

  “That’s brill, Helen. Great work.” Coop grabs my furry shoulder and pulls me aside. “Just to warn you,” he whispers in my ear. “If you see Leyna and Hunter in there, don’t freak. I asked them to mingle at the back of the party.”

  I nearly drop a load in my monkey suit. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Don’t make a scene,” Coop hushes. “It’s chill. I’ll have Evelyn hang at the front of the room and once the rumpus begins, Leyna and Hunter will be the first ones out. We need to get them on tape for this scene. It’s too big a part of the movie.”

  “It’s like you want to get caught or something.”

  “It’s all good. You’ll see.”

  I start to turn and go, but he pulls me back. “One more thing. Now that you’ve got the blood, if you get a chance, try and grab someone in the party and pretend to bite their neck. It’ll be totally epic.”

  “Right,” I say, wanting to scream. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Matt, Nick, and me take off like three raggedy-ass Bigfeet, crouching and skulking toward the peeling brown service-entrance door.

  “This is gonna be fun,” Nick says. “I feel like a SEAL again. Sneaking up on the unwitting. I can’t wait to see the expressions on people’s faces.”

  Christ, is that what he looked forward to as a SEAL?

  I just want this to be over already. My heart’s fluttering like a spooked parakeet in a too-small cage. And I’m still not feeling so good in the stomach department.

  I grab the door and hold it open. As Nick and Matt jostle inside I press on my diaphragm, pushing up a little burp to help ease the seasickness in my belly. I get that thick orangey-acid taste at the back of my throat, but it makes me feel quite a bit better.

  Just as I’m about to duck into the country club, I see Coop, Val, and Evelyn jogging toward the front of the building. Coop looks my way and gives me a raised solidarity fist.

  Fucker. I can’t believe he asked Leyna and Hunter to come. If Evelyn or Nick sees them . . . I’m one dead chimpanzee.

  I take another full breath and then slip inside.

  “Which way?” Matt whispers, his chimp-head on a swivel.

  We seem to be in some sort of vestibule or foyer or something. There are three tinted glass doors: one leading to the left, one directly in front of us, and a third to the right. I cock my head and listen for some sort of audible clue — music, talking, laughing — but there’s nothing.

  “Let’s go straight,” I say, pointing to the door directly in front of us.

  “Decisive. I like it.” Nick grabs the handle with his mangy paw and pulls it open.

  We step through the doorway and tiptoe down a long fluorescent-lit deserted hallway. There’s a musty brussels-sprout smell back here, and it’s hard to get air deep into my lungs. The world starts to swirl and I have to brace myself, reaching out for the wall with my right hand.

  “You okay?” Matt asks.

  “Ye
ah.” I’m trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m just . . . Lunch isn’t sitting so well.”

  “It’s the gas,” Nick explains, launching a little squeaker for emphasis. “Let it breathe.”

  “You want to go back?” Matt says to me, his voice hopeful.

  It’s tempting, for sure. More than tempting. But then I remember why I’m here. The baby. The sister. The room. The snoring.

  And Leyna, of course.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I say, pushing myself away from the wall.

  We continue on, passing a large storage room and a few empty offices, until finally we come upon the bustling kitchen. The three of us duck into a doorway, out of sight, and wait as trolleys of food are wheeled from the kitchen and down another hall.

  “What do we do now?” Matt whispers.

  “We wait,” Nick instructs. “Until they’re done bringing the carts out.”

  “Coop said to head straight for the party,” I say desperately. The longer we wait here, the more time Evelyn has to notice Leyna. “So that’s what we should do. Just act like you belong.”

  I suck in as much air as I can and lead my fellow monkeys ahead.

  We’re just about to follow the latest food cart down the hall when I see another waiter balancing a tray of appetizers push through the double kitchen doors.

  “Nein!” A buff dude in a formfitting tux bursts through the doors and grabs the waiter’s arm. “Where do you think you are going?” His German accent is right out of Call of Duty, his spiked bleached-blond hair and black nail polish straight from Dragon Ball Z.

  “T-To serve the a-appetizers?” the waiter stammers.

  I wave Nick and Matt back, and we make ourselves thin in the doorway.

  “Appetizers are over, dummkopf!” The spiky-haired guy slaps the tray out of the waiter’s hand, sending little puff pastry squares flying into the air and the silver platter clanking to the floor. “If you cannot cut the mustache, then you should get out of the kitchen.”

  “Oh, shit,” Matt whispers. “That’s Ulf.”

  “Who the hell’s Ulf?” Nick asks, keeping his voice low. “A Nazi?”

  “No. He was my lifesaving coach last summer. I snuck into this country club when I was trying to learn how to swim the fly and got roped in to his course.” He looks at me. “Remember?”

  “Yeah. I also remember you telling us he was a sadistic bastard.”

  Matt scratches his hairy arm. “He wasn’t so bad. We ended up getting along okay, but he won’t think twice about beating the piss out of us if he finds out what we’re up to.”

  “I could probably take him,” Nick says, looking down at his hairy self. “Although the costume might make things interesting.”

  “Why is he here now?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” Matt shrugs. “I guess he has to do something during the off-season.”

  “Perhaps you have chewed off more than your head,” Ulf says.

  The waiter trembles. “I’m s-sorry. I just thought —”

  “This is your first mistake. Stop thinking. And start listening.” With that, Ulf shoves the waiter back into the kitchen through the saloon doors and follows right on his heels.

  “Here’s our chance,” I say, pushing away from the door.

  I quickly skulk past the kitchen and turn down the hall. Matt and Nick shadow me as we creep toward Rico’s birthday party. The doors to the reception room are only fifty yards away.

  And just as I’m thinking we’re going to make it, someone clears his throat behind me.

  “May I help you?”

  Matt, Nick, and me freeze.

  I turn around slowly to see Ulf looming there, his hands tucked behind his back.

  “We’re, um . . .” I try to clear the thick clump in my throat. “We’re here for the . . . Rico Petrelli party? We’re the . . . entertainment? The . . . Singing . . . Zombie . . . Monkey Brothers.”

  “No one mentioned any”— Ulf looks us up and down, his eyes narrowed —“singing monkeys to me.” His suit is so tight on him that it’d take just one hard flex for him to rip through the fabric like the Incredible Hulk.

  “That’s because,” Matt says, lowering his voice a couple of octaves, “it’s a surprise. We’re Rico’s grandkids. He thinks we aren’t going to be able to come. But we’re here now.”

  “Monkeys are Great-grandpa’s favorite animals,” Nick adds.

  If I wasn’t so terrified that he’d kill me, I’d smack Nick. Great-grandpa? The dude’s only sixty years old!

  But just like that Ulf’s shoulders relax. “Well, thank you, my lucky charms,” he says. “Why did you not mention this in the very first place? Finally, we will have some family members at this celebration. Perhaps you can increase the mood. It is like someone died and went to heaven in there.” He snaps to attention again. “Follow me. I will show you the way.”

  “WOULD YOU LIKE FOR ME that I introduce your entrance?” Ulf asks when we arrive at the door to the Amethyst Room.

  “No,” I say, my breath shaky. “We don’t want to ruin the element of surprise.” My temples start to throb, and my left eye begins to twitch. If I had a communicator, I would so call Scotty on the Enterprise to have him beam me up right now.

  “Okay. If that is how you wish.” Ulf cracks open the door and peeks inside. “Someone is giving a speech right now. You will go in after the man is finished.”

  Through the opening, I can see that the room is packed with hundreds of miserable-looking people. Old and young alike. Everyone dressed in party clothes, their eyes glazed over as they watch a cauliflower-nosed man standing on a riser with a glass of red wine in his hand give a speech.

  I scan the crowd and see Evelyn, sitting at a table near the front of the room. Chatting to an elderly couple. Stuffing her face with food. Her Nashira-jacket chains jangling. Hardly inconspicuous.

  And there’s Val and Coop standing in the corner, videotaping the whole affair.

  And — oh, God — there’s Hunter and Leyna, loitering near the back. Jesus Christ.

  “Well, Rico,” the speaker drones, “as everyone in this room can attest, you and I have not always seen eye to eye over the years. In fact — if we’re being perfectly honest — it’s safe to say that I am not your biggest fan. But, as your employees — I mean, guests — would likely agree, if you had to choose between making friends and making money, you’d take money every time.”

  “Damn straight!” a grumpy, Mr. Clean look-alike in a tuxedo calls out, raising a tall glass of whiskey. “Friends might kiss your ass, but cash will clothe it!”

  “Ah, yes.” The speaker forces a smile. “Another witty Rico-ism. Because we haven’t heard enough of those over the decades. Anyway.” He sighs. “There really isn’t much more I have to say, and I see our food is being served, so I’ll just sign off.” He raises his glass of wine and nods. “Happy birthday, Rico.”

  “Fuck you very much, Larry!” Rico hollers. “I should have fired you when I fired your whore wife.”

  There’s a scattering of uncomfortable laughter. A few people clap awkwardly.

  And then everyone starts to eat.

  Ulf turns to us. “If you are all ready.” He thrusts his hand toward the room. “The show must go on the road.”

  “Right,” I say, looking over at Matt and Nick, my hurly belly gurgling. “On three?”

  They nod.

  I gulp. “One.” Oh, jeez, I can’t believe we’re really going to do this. “Two.” There’s no going back now. “Three!”

  I slip the blood capsule into my mouth and lead the charge through the double doors.

  Nick, Matt, and me burst into the Amethyst Room, screeching like anally probed lab chimps, waving our furry arms in the air, and rushing straight toward the first set of tables.

  “You’re all going to die!” Nick screams, exactly like he’s not supposed to. “We’ve come to drink your blood!”

  People shriek in terror. Suit- and dress-clad bodies fly from their s
eats and stumble over each other, trying to get away from our rabid monkey menace.

  “Nein! Nein! Stoppen!” I hear Ulf holler behind us. “Hör auf, verdammt!”

  The pushing and shouting at the front of the reception causes a chain reaction as table after table of partygoers leap up and bolt toward the exit doors.

  It’s immediate and complete mayhem at the Elk Hills Country Club.

  Which is exactly how we planned it.

  Well, almost.

  Evelyn — in her leather chain jacket — hops up on one of the tables, wielding a chair. “Oh, my God! It’s humanzees!” she barks. “Vampire-zombie human chimpanzees! Don’t let them take over the world!”

  Nick springs onto the now-empty riser and howls into the abandoned microphone. “You cannot stop us! We are humanzees! Hear us roar!” His deep guttural growl echoes in the high-ceilinged reception room, evoking a new ripple of cries from the fleeing flock.

  Oh, crap, they’re totally ruining this scene! I have to save it somehow. Give Coop something to splice in that matches our original vision for the film.

  Without thinking, I charge a group of younger guys in suits who scream and clutch at each other like little girls and launch myself at the smallest of them — a large-headed, wispy-haired dude with no chin and bug eyes. I grab him in a tight bear hug, bite down on my blood capsule — which tastes almost like real blood, warm and metallic and nauseating — and pretend to sink my teeth into his neck.

  “Help!” he squeals. “It’s biting me! I’m bleeding! Get it off! Get it off!”

  It’s the perfect line of dialogue, actually. Way better than Nick’s and Evelyn’s, for sure.

  Suddenly I’m slammed in the lower back with something. My kidneys scream in pain. I fall to floor, releasing the howling guy, letting him run off with the rest of the crowd.

  I hoist myself up and turn over to see Evelyn standing above me, brandishing her chair.

  “Take that, you filthy humanzee!” she shouts, then tosses the chair away and runs off.