Deception on the Set (2 page)

After that scene, they released the extras for the night, but Frank and I decided to stay and watch as they filmed more. The next scene took place atop the roof of Bayport's old savings and loan building. The four-story brick building was one of the oldest in town. It even had one of those metal fire escape stairs bolted to the outside. I guess that's why the director chose that location; from what I could tell, the scene was going to take place on the rickety stairs.

“Excuse me, Bill,” I said as the first AD walked by. “What's going to happen here?”

Bill's eyes lit up. “In this scene, a group of survivors climb down the fire escape. As the last one leaves the roof, a zombie lunges at him, and the survivor leaps off the roof and falls four stories down.” He pointed to a large air bag being inflated on the sidewalk below. “It's going to be a very cool stunt.”

“And we have front-row seats,” Frank said, pointing to the inflating air bag.

Several crew members adjusted the white, square-shaped bag. It would stand at over five feet tall when fully inflated. I had seen one on television once, so I knew how it worked. When a stunt person landed in the center of the bag, large
flaps on the side would open up, releasing some of the air and breaking the performer's fall.

Frank and I watched as they set up the shot. It seemed like it took forever. When the lights and cameras were finally in place, the stunt performers rehearsed the scene on the roof. Unfortunately, we couldn't hear what was being said from our position. Finally Josh, the director, walked out of the building and sat down in video village.

“Okay, lock it up! Quiet all around!” shouted Bill. “Picture's up!”

The stuntmen and stuntwomen walked to the center of the roof and out of view.

Bill held a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Roll camera.”

“A camera, speed,” said the cameraman on the ground.

“B camera, speed,” came a voice over the walkie-talkie. It must've been the cameraman on the rooftop.

“And . . . action!” shouted the director.

Atop the roof, the group of survivors came into view. They reached the edge and immediately climbed onto the metal fire escape, their faces contorted into expressions of fear as they descended. The last survivor entered with a zombie close behind. He leaped off the roof and sailed over the edge of the railing, catching the handrail and dangling over the air bag four stories below.

Suddenly the air was filled with the shriek of twisting metal. My heart pounded as I realized the top of the fire escape was coming away from the bricks.

The rickety structure began to fold as the top half leaned away from the side of the building. The group of men and women on the bottom half of the stairs were safe. However, the top portion angled so that it was perpendicular to the brick wall. Now, instead of the stuntman dangling directly over the air bag, he dangled several feet
past
it. The man struggled to cling to the rusty metal railing.

“He's not going to land on the bag,” Frank whispered.

My brother was right. If that stuntman lost his hold on the railing, he would tumble straight toward the hard sidewalk below. A fall from that height would kill him. From the way the man fought to keep his grip, it looked as if he didn't have long to live.

C
UT! CUT!” SHOUTED JOSH. THE
director sprang from his chair and ran to the edge of the bag.

“Someone get him down from there!” Bill shouted into the walkie-talkie.

Joe and I rushed forward with the rest of the crew. We all watched helplessly as the stuntman held on for his life.

Joe turned to one of the crew members. “Can we push the air bag under him?”

The blond girl with the clipboard kept staring up at the dangling man. “I don't think you can move it once it's inflated.”

“We can try!” I said, running closer to the bag. I grabbed one of the straps and pulled hard. It didn't even budge.
“Come on!” I shouted to anyone who would listen.

Joe was already there, pulling a nearby strap. Soon we were joined by other crew members. With everyone pulling, the large bag began to move.

“We're not going to make it,” Joe said, looking up.

I followed his gaze and saw the stuntman's right hand lose its grip. He hung by his left hand while his right hand reached underneath his tattered coat. He pulled out a black strap with a metal oval ring at one end. I recognized the ring at once; it was a carabiner, the same kind of metal clip used in mountain climbing. The man reached up and tried to snap the carabiner onto the metal railing. His face strained as he reached and missed.

I pulled harder at the bag's strap. Everyone seemed to. In fact, by this point, three sides were covered with people. Inch by inch, the giant air bag slid closer to the stuntman's new drop zone.

The man growled as he swung the carabiner one more time. The carabiner struck the railing but didn't attach. His left hand, white and trembling from strain, finally gave out. The stuntman flailed his arms and legs as he fell.

I struggled to pull harder, but the bag didn't budge. For the second time that day, Joe pulled me out of harm's way. We fell backward just as the man hit the bag.

Well, most of him did. His body slammed against the very edge of the bag. Since he didn't land in the center, the bag didn't deflate completely. That plus the odd angle
made him bounce off to the side and slam against the hard sidewalk. I cringed as I saw his arm smack against the cement.

We joined the crowd as everyone swooped in around the moaning stuntman.

“Watch your backs!” shouted a voice behind us. “Medics coming through!”

A man and a woman wearing orange jackets pushed through the crowd. Everyone backed off to give them room as they began working on the injured man.

The director rushed in. “Aw, man, Cody. Are you okay?”

The stuntman grimaced with pain and anger. “Does it look like I'm okay?” He grunted as the medics braced his neck and rolled him onto a backboard. “I told you that was a stupid stunt,” he growled. “Not enough payoff for the risk.”

“I'm so sorry,” said Josh. “I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I mean, you've done bigger stunts than that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe
you
should've done it, Josh,” snarled the stuntman. “Then you could trust your life to some rickety piece of equipment that hasn't been inspected since the 1940s.”

The medics lifted the stuntman onto a gurney.

“I thought you were supposed to reinforce it, like I suggested,” said Josh.

“We did,” replied the injured stuntman. They rolled him through the crowd toward a nearby ambulance.

Josh watched them load him up and pull away. He turned, rubbed his eyes, and gave the watching crew a nervous smile. “I think we're all done for the day,” he said. “We'll see you tomorrow.”

After the lights had been shut off and equipment packed away, Joe and I headed to my car. “Somewhat stressful first day of show business,” I said.

“No kidding,” he agreed.

D
AY TWO ON THE SET
was much more relaxing. I sat in complete darkness while my head and face were massaged by a cool liquid.

Okay, so I wasn't getting a massage in some swanky salon. It just felt as if I was. I sat very still while someone smeared cool, gooey alginate all over my head.

Let me back up. To me, the best thing about being in the movie was that Frank and I got to be actual zombies, with full makeup. To get that zombie look, our heads and faces had to be cast in plaster. In the movie business, they call this a life cast. Once they had a plaster cast of our heads, they could design special zombie makeup that would look like a perfectly fitted mask.

The makeup effects coordinator was a young woman
named Meredith Banks. Though she wasn't much older than Frank and me, she had already worked on some of our favorite horror movies.

“Looking good, man,” I heard my brother say. “Your face is like a melting . . . blobby something. Definitely an improvement.”

“Now, don't make him laugh,” Meredith warned. “This alginate works fast. It'll be firm in another minute.”

Since I had to keep my head perfectly still, I just shook a warning finger in my brother's direction.

“All right,” said Frank. “No more jabs.”

I gave him a thumbs-up of thanks.

“Isn't this the same material dentists use to make molds of teeth?” Frank asked.

“That's right,” Meredith replied. “Except this alginate doesn't have the cherry flavor added.”

Once the alginate had cured, Meredith and her assistant, Nick, wrapped my head with plaster bandages. The hardened plaster would help the softer alginate keep its shape once it was removed from my head. I couldn't tell by the feel of what they were doing, but I had watched Frank go through the entire process already.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. “We're going to pull Frank's life cast out of the mold,” said Meredith. Her voice was a bit muffled through the plaster. “You okay by yourself for a few minutes?”

I gave another thumbs-up.

“Don't go anywhere,” said Frank with a chuckle.

I lowered my thumb, leaving just the fist waving in his direction.

I heard the three of them walk away and was left in silence. I had to admit that this part wasn't exactly relaxing. I was completely blind and almost deaf, with the weight of the plaster weighing down my head and shoulders.

And then the unthinkable happened. My nose began to itch. I tried to think of anything to get my mind off it, but nothing was working.

Luckily, I got a distraction when I heard the trailer door open.

“Cody is not happy at all,” said a woman's voice. “He blames Josh, you know.”

“How can he blame Josh?” asked a second woman. “It was just an accident.”

“That's the thing,” said the first woman. “Cody thinks that someone sabotaged the—” She stopped midsentence. Then there was silence. I think they just realized that I was sitting there.

“Hello?” asked one of the women. I couldn't tell which one.

I raised a hand and gave a slow wave.

“We're looking for Meredith,” said the other woman.

I pointed around and then raised both hands in an
I don't know
kind of gesture. The makeup trailer was sectioned off into several rooms and workstations. If Meredith, Frank,
and Nick weren't in plain view, I had no idea where they had gone.

“Thanks,” said the first woman. “We'll check back later.”

I heard the trailer door shut. Once again, there was only silence. However, this time I had plenty to keep my mind occupied. I hadn't recognized either of the women's voices, but I definitely recognized the names they had mentioned. Josh was Josh Biehn, the director. The night before, he had called the stuntman who almost fell Cody. So, according to the voices I heard, the stuntman didn't think that the falling fire escape was an accident.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a distant door opening and approaching footsteps.

“He didn't wander off,” joked Frank. “Right where we left him.”

“Let's get you out of there,” said Meredith.

She pulled the mold off my head in two halves. I leaned forward as she removed the front part. As soon as it was gone, I reached up and scratched the tip of my nose.

I moaned. “Oh yeah! That's the stuff.”

Meredith laughed. “Don't worry. You're not the first person to get an itchy nose.”

After she and Nick removed the back half of the mold, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyebrows were slicked down with petroleum jelly to keep the alginate from sticking to them. To protect the rest of my hair, I wore a skin wig. I looked like a bald alien clone or something.

Meredith leaned in beside me and caught my eye in the mirror. Her short brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. “All good?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” I replied. “I just forgot how weird I looked.”

“You think that's weird? Check this out!” said Frank. He squatted near a table and placed an arm around a life-size bust of himself.

“Hey, I'm seeing double,” I remarked.

“Pretty cool, huh?” he asked.

As Meredith and Nick carried away the molds from my head, I stood and leaned closer to Frank.

“You think that's cool?” I asked. “I think I just stumbled onto a mystery.”

I
T COULD'VE JUST BEEN AN
accident,” I noted as we left the makeup trailer.

“But what if it wasn't?” Joe's eyes lit up. “We could have ourselves a real mystery here.”

Joe and I made our way past the long line of semitrailers parked along Cheshire Avenue. Like the makeup trailer, each one was outfitted for a different movie department. There was the camera trailer, the special effects trailer, and the trailer for grips and electric (the department in charge of all the lights and light stands). The usually quiet residential street looked like a truck stop.

I came to a halt. “Look, you talked me into this and now you want to ruin it by nosing around for a mystery that may
or may not exist.” I shook my head. “Can't you just be happy to be in a cool zombie movie?”

“Dude, I'm
thrilled
to be in a cool zombie movie.” Joe glanced around. “I'm just saying . . . we're not working until tomorrow. What's the harm in being curious?”

I tightened my lips. “Plenty.”

Look, nobody likes an unsolved mystery more than me. Our dad is a retired private investigator, so it's in our blood. That and the fact that we've always managed to solve cases had always bought us a little pull with a few of the town's police officers, even Chief Gomez. But now the guy in charge was Chief Olaf. Former
Detective
Olaf had never liked us and had always been resentful when we closed cases that he couldn't solve. He was never happy to catch us looking for a mystery on our own.