Nick and Tesla's Special Effects Spectacular

by Bob Pflugfelder

  11. Cut off about 15 feet (4.5 m) of the button thread and tie one end securely to the pushpin. Feed the other end through the marker cap and knot it securely.

  THE FINAL STEPS

  1. Wrap the rubber band around the front of the cap, as shown.

  2. Wind the thread around the front of the cap, in front of the rubber band, leaving enough slack to insert the pen into the launcher.

  3. Push the pen into the marker cap and stretch the rubber band with the pin to create tension. Then clip the pushpin and rubber band in place with the clothespin.

  4. Your grappling hook is now ready! To launch it, simply point at a target and push down on the back of the clothespin to release the grappler. Remember to ALWAYS wear safety goggles (you have to watch out for ricochets!) and NEVER point the grappling hook at anyone.

  5. If needed, experiment with different sizes of rubber bands, or different placements of the clothespin, to give your grappler the force it needs for a long flight.

  Once they had worked out the details of phase three, Nick and Tesla went to retrieve Silas from his new friends, who were describing what it was like to play terrified onlookers in a monster-movie crowd scene.

  “There’s lots of pointing and screaming and running,” said the zomboid woman. “It’s fun.”

  “I always lose my voice by the end of the first day, but that’s okay,” said the zomboid man. “The sound editors usually dub in other people’s screams anyway.”

  Nick and Tesla each grabbed one of Silas’s arms and hauled him to his feet.

  “Sorry, we’ve gotta go,” said Nick.

  “Aww, but I’m learning so much about making movies!”

  “Later, Silas,” Tesla said. “We’ve got something more important to learn right now.”

  As Nick and Tesla dragged Silas away, they bumped into Paul, the professional “background artist” they’d met earlier.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

  “Our friend seems to be having a bad reaction to the makeup,” Nick said.

  He nodded at DeMarco, who was standing by the doors. The zomboid makeup on his hands and arms seemed to be sizzling and smoking.

  “I’m melting,” DeMarco groaned. “Mellllllting.”

  Even through all the makeup Paul was wearing, it was plain that the blood had drained from his face.

  “Oh, geez,” he said hoarsely. “The set medic should be out by Video Village. You’d better hurry.”

  “Thanks!” Nick said.

  “And tell the people in Makeup to come check on the rest of us!” Paul called out.

  Nick gave him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

  “Oh, what a world, what a world,” DeMarco whimpered as he staggered onto the sidewalk.

  “Oh, all right, all right,” Tesla said. “We’ve seen enough overacting for one day.”

  “We have to remember to use that effect in Bald Eagle: The Legend Takes Flight, ” said Silas. “Will it take long for DeMarco’s burns to heal?”

  “He’s not on fire,” said Nick. “Adding vinegar to the zomboid makeup makes it sizzle like that.”

  “Even better,” Silas said.

  By now, the kids had been through the set enough times to know the best route. Dart around the first trailer, hop over the cables leading from the big humming generator, and you could move along the edge and avoid most of the crew. And that’s just what they did.

  In less than a minute, they’d reached their destination: the honeywagons, where they had stashed DeMarco’s backpack, behind the cleanest port-a-potty. They pulled out the bag and opened it, and then Nick and Tesla filled Silas in on the scheme while DeMarco scrubbed the bubbling makeup off his arms.

  “Better hope the windows in Damon Wilder’s trailer are still open,” Silas said after he’d heard the first part of the plan. “And that the evidence is still there. And that Wilder isn’t just sitting inside next to it. Otherwise, it’s game over.”

  Nick placed a hand on Silas’s broad shoulder.

  “I’m impressed,” Nick said. “You really are getting the hang of pointing out the worst-case scenario.”

  “I’ve been learning from the master,” said Silas.

  Tesla shifted a stony gaze from Nick to Silas and back to Nick again, trying to decide which one was more annoying.

  Silas set off on his mission.

  DeMarco set off on his mission.

  Nick and Tesla set off on their mission: Damon Wilder’s trailer.

  “Let’s do this thing,” said Nick, his voice cracking on “thing.”

  “Hey, that’s my line,” said Tesla.

  “I know. You’re always saying stuff like that. I just wanted to try it once.”

  “How does it feel?”

  Nick thought it over. “Kinda weird. You say it.”

  “Let’s do this thing,” Tesla said firmly.

  Nick nodded. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”

  When they reached the trailer, Nick and Tesla took up position in the narrow gap between the structure and the truck parked beside it. Crew members moved by in their usual hurry; none were paying attention to the two mini zomboid extras just standing around.

  “Ready?” said Tesla.

  “Ready,” said Nick. “It’s time to get to work.” His voice cracked on “work.”

  “Dang it,” he said, sighing.

  Shielded (a bit) by a newspaper that Tesla was pretending to read (the San Francisco Chronicle, whose headline read “Artisanal Toast Raises Dough”), Nick and his sister peered toward the trailer’s windows.

  “Whew,” Nick said. “They’re still open.”

  The pair checked to see that the coast was clear, and then they stepped closer to the windows. Tesla held up the newspaper and Nick stood behind her.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Well—” Nick started to speak, but a loud and familiar voice interrupted him.

  “Well, well, well!”

  Tesla lowered the newspaper to see the beefy, flannel-shirted Teamster who’d been giving them a rough time all day. He was standing there staring at her and Nick, his big hands set on his hips.

  “Look at you two zomboids,” he said. “Know a producer’s nephew, and suddenly you’re in the movies.”

  “Uh, I guess,” said Nick.

  “That’s Hollywood for ya,” said Tesla.

  They both laughed nervously.

  “Well, what are you doing here? You lost?” the Teamster asked. He jerked his thumb to the right. “They’re shooting down that way.”

  “Oh, we’re not lost,” said Nick. “We’re … uh …”

  “Waiting,” said Tesla.

  The Teamster squinted at them. “Waiting for what?”

  “Well … ,” Tesla said.

  But before she could get something, anything else to come out of her mouth, the expression on the Teamster’s face changed from suspicious and curious to sly and amused.

  He looked from Nick and Tesla to the open window of Wilder’s trailer and back again.

  He knows, Tesla thought. Oh, no, he knows!

  “You know what?” he said. “Never mind.” And then he turned and started to leave. After a few steps, he paused to glance back.

  “Good luck. I’ll be keeping an eye on YouTube.”

  He gave the kids a big wink and then walked away.

  “Uhh … what just happened?” Nick said.

  “He thinks we’re trying to spy on Wilder!” Tesla said. “Maybe to get more embarrassing video to leak online.”

  “Boy, people sure do hate that guy.”

  “Can you blame them?”

  “Not really,” Nick said. “Anyway, it’s go time.” Nick grinned. His voice didn’t crack.

  Tesla opened her newspaper again, and Nick stepped behind her. Its Pulitzer Prize–winning reportage wouldn’t provide them much cover, but it was better than nothing.

  Tesla waited for the soft sproinggg of Nick shooting the grappling hook through the open window and int
o the trailer.

  “Tez!”

  “Did you get it?” She didn’t want to turn around; it was important to keep watching for anyone coming to interrupt them.

  “Tez!”

  “Nick, if you missed, just aim better.”

  “Tez!”

  “What? What’s the problem? What happened to ‘It’s go time’?”

  “Tez, it’s not here! Wilder’s script isn’t here!”

  Behind Damon Wilder’s trailer stood two giant plastic trash bins, the kind with built-in wheels and an attached lid. Besides being strong enough to hold refuse of all sorts, the bins made a perfect cover for two zomboid kids to hide behind while discussing their next step.

  “Without that script, we’ve got nothing,” Nick was saying. “It’s the key to the whole thing! Even with it, we’ll need to do a lot of explaining …”

  “Maybe it’s somewhere else in the trailer,” Tesla said. “If we sneak in—”

  “Tez, I’m not even sure it was right to try to steal the script through the window, even if Damon Wilder is up to no good. But sneaking in there again and going through his stuff … no way. Besides, if we got caught, nobody would listen to anything we had to say. We might even get thrown in jail for burglary and—”

  “Easy, Nick, easy,” Tesla said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Nobody’s going to jail. Take a breath.”

  “This whole thing is stupid,” he said. “A big waste of time. We should be trying to find Mom and Dad. I should be back at the house doing research online. Except you had to fritz up the computer.”

  “Nick, we talked about that.”

  “I know, I know. All this is practice. I get it. But if you ask me, it’s a failed experiment. Negative results. It’s time to bail. Take our data and go home.”

  “Nick, I’m not ready.”

  “Come on, Tez, you—” But the look on his sister’s face made him stop short. He’d hardly ever seen her look this way.

  She looked scared.

  “Tez?”

  She lowered her eyes. “Nick, listen. I didn’t just mean that I was afraid of failure. It’s also that I’m afraid, plain and simple. Not only that Mom and Dad are mixed up in something too big for us to help with. What if they’re involved in something awful and scary and really dangerous? When I think about that, I—I have trouble doing anything.” When she looked up, her face was calm again, but Nick could see the anxiety in her eyes. “So, I think I end up getting involved in stuff like this because I don’t want to think about what might be happening with them.”

  Now it was Nick’s turn to put his hand on Tesla’s shoulder. “Tez,” he said, “I’m scared about it, too. But I’m always worrying about things, so I’m used to it. Take it from me—it’s possible to be worried about something and still try to do something about it.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she tried to process what her brother had said. “Really?”

  “Really. So, don’t worry.”

  At that, they both laughed. “Okay,” Tesla said. “Whoo. Well, let’s get away from these trash bins and—” But before she could finish her sentence, the trash bins suddenly started moving away. Nick and Tesla jumped to their feet and spotted a tall man, dressed in coveralls and listening to an iPod, wheeling them away.

  Their hiding place was exposed! No one seemed to notice, though. Everyone around was rushing to and fro to and didn’t care that two zomboid “background artists” had wandered off the set. It was getting late in the day, and they all had long lists of tasks that still needed to be completed.

  “Tez!” Nick said, “look!”

  The trash guy, dragging the bins behind him, hadn’t noticed that one of the lids had flopped open. He was too busy nodding his head to the rhythms of whatever he was listening to.

  “Pa pa mmm mow mow, pa pa mmm mow mow mow … ,” he half sung, half hummed.

  “Come on!” said Nick, dashing toward the man, who was by then several yards away.

  “What?” Tesla said as she jogged alongside him. “Where are we going?”

  “Look!” Nick repeated, pointing to the trash bins. And then Tesla saw it, on top of the trash in the open bin: a white piece of paper. No, an entire stack of white papers, stapled together. The script!

  The trash guy was moving quickly, but the twins got close enough for Tesla to make out the title typed on the cover page: Reflections of Remembrance: A Play in Three Acts by Jack Wiltrout.

  “Get it!” Tesla said.

  “Got it!” Nick replied. And then he reached out …

  But he didn’t get it. Suddenly, a barrier appeared between the twins and the trash bins. The roadblock was made of clothing—pants and shirts mostly, a few sweater vests, all hanging from a wheeled rack that a bored-looking P.A. was pushing across their path. Nick and Tesla skidded to a stop just in time to avoid colliding with the wall of wardrobe. Then, just when that obstruction rolled past them, another roadblock slid in from the other direction. This time, it was an actual wall; or, rather, a plywood and canvas frame painted to look like a wall. Despite its materials, it was still solid enough to block Nick and Tesla’s way.

  “Oh, come on, ” Nick said, rolling his eyes.

  “We’ll go around,” Tesla said, but the two guys carrying the wall had already moved out of the twins’ way, and it didn’t seem like any other obstructions were heading in their direction. Yet Nick and Tesla still didn’t move because now they had another problem.

  The trash bins were nowhere to be seen!

  “No!” Nick shouted. “We were so close.”

  “I thought you said this was a waste of time,” Tesla said, scanning the area for any sign of the trash man and his cargo.

  “Well, DeMarco’s our friend,” Nick said. He was searching the crowd, too. There were trailers and trucks and small tents all over the place. “And his aunt needs our help. We can’t just bail on them. I guess I didn’t really want to quit; I was just getting frustrated is all.”

  “There!” Tesla blurted out suddenly. She pointed at a panel van parked at the far end of the wide lane they’d been following. Nick looked over just in time to see a big blue trash receptacle disappearing behind it.

  Off they ran.

  Dalasia the security guard was having a strange week. She usually spent her workday watching the entrance to a warehouse, parking lot, office park, or some other place that people rarely had any interest in sneaking into. But since she’d been assigned to monitor the entrance to the Metalman movie set, she’d met the famous film director Cash Ashkinos (nice, but busy); got a close-up look at the movie star Damon Wilder (ignored her as he walked by); listened to a P.A. describe her movie script about a postapocalyptic Goldilocks (the ending needed work); and made friends with a movie producer (a nice lady who got her the star’s autograph and promised to send her tickets when the movie came out). She’d also chased away autograph seekers and other lookie-loos, put up with annoying chants from people dressed in weird costumes (a pirate cat? What was that?), and almost called the fire department to rescue what turned out to be a bird costume stuffed with newspapers.

  Things had finally calmed down, and Dalasia’s shift would be over in another hour. Even better, she’d found one last Sudoku puzzle in her book, which she’d overlooked. With luck, things would stay quiet and she could work on the brain teaser until quitting time. She settled back in her folding chair and erased the number she’d just written in her puzzle book.

  “Excuse me.”

  Dalasia jumped from her chair. She didn’t see anybody across the street or up or down the sidewalk, either.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” the voice said again. Dalasia turned around, and that’s when she saw Tesla Holt, standing behind the temporary fence. Tesla was still wearing her alien zombie makeup, so Dalasia had only the slightest feeling that she’d seen this kid before.

  “I thought they finished filming the zombie scene,” Dalasia said, resting one hand on her walkie-talkie and holding her Sudoku book in the other. />
  “It’s zomboid,” Tesla said. “Yeah, they finished. I’m just waiting around for my—my uncle to come and pick me up.”

  “Okay,” Dalasia said. “Well, they’ll probably be closing everything down for the day pretty soon, so you should get back to Makeup and have them take that goop off your face.” Dalasia smiled. I sound like I work in Hollywood, she thought.

  “I will,” Tesla said. “But I noticed that you have a puzzle book, and I was wondering …” She walked up to the sawhorses, standing to the side so that Dalasia had to turn to face her. “Can you show me how to do Sudoku? I’ve been wanting to learn, but I don’t really get it.”

  “Oh,” Dalasia said, “sure! Sudoku is great! Are you good with puzzles?”

  “Are you kidding?” Tesla said with a shrug. “I mean, kinda.” As Dalasia approached, opening her puzzle book, Tesla glanced past the security guard’s shoulder. Less than a stone’s throw away was a huge Dumpster, piled with trash. And on top of the pile, gleaming in the late afternoon sun like a bright white diamond, was the script that she and Nick had been chasing all over the place. It had been a wild pursuit, taking them through the maze of trailers and trucks; dangerously close to Video Village (where Aunt Zoe and Cash Ashkinos were having an argument and an army of P.A.s were skittering everywhere, each one holding a tray of lattes); and, finally, here, on the outskirts of the set. For a moment, all had seemed lost as the trash guy dumped everything into the rusted Dumpster, but miraculously the script ended up on top of the heap.

  “Wow, even the garbage doesn’t want it,” Nick had whispered.

  But then they noticed that the security guard was stationed just a few paces away. The Dumpster was huge, and the script was too high for either Nick or Tesla to reach it from ground level. Climbing onto the Dumpster would surely make noise—maybe even cause a trash avalanche—that would attract the guard’s notice. So they made a plan, flipped a coin, and now Tesla had to keep Dalasia occupied while Nick used the Bald Eagle grappler to pull down the script.

  “So, you just put in any numbers you want?” Tesla said.