“I thought I just got a minor injury,” Stefan said. Near the end of the script he got in a fight with one of the monster creatures on the planet, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious.
“I was told Mark might change the script so Stefan’s character dies,” Raine said.
“Wait a minute!” Stefan protested. “Nobody ever said anything about me dying.”
Sherman held up his hands. “Nothing has been decided. They’re still working on the script. Mark likes to tinker with it as he goes along. You don’t need to worry about that now.”
“I don’t want to die in the movie,” Stefan said. How could he pull off some elaborate death scene? Did he even want to?
Sherman clapped him on the back. “I’m sure you can do it, if it comes to that. We’d make sure it’s a spectacular, heroic kind of death. It will be great! What do you think, Raine?”
“Why don’t you just have him trip over someone’s foot and fall into a crevice,” Raine’s mother said. “I’m sure he could handle that.”
That bit of nastiness silenced everyone for a few seconds. Stefan didn’t know how to respond. If a kid had said that, he would have decked him.
“Mother! Stop! I’ll talk to Mark when he gets back. Now I need to do my schoolwork. Why don’t you go feed Mr. Snuggums? It’s time for his snack.”
Mrs. Randolph looked at her watch. “All right, but see that this gets settled. Come along, Mr. Snuggums. Poor baby. You must be famished!” Stefan was relieved to see her head up the stairs.
“It will all work out, Raine, I promise,” Sherman said. “We’ll make sure this movie showcases your extraordinary talent. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? Take the night to relax.” He ignored Stefan as he went out the front door.
Everyone else disappeared just as fast, until only Raine and Stefan were left.
“You look like a puppy someone has just kicked,” Raine said. “Don’t take it personally. It’s business. If I don’t look out for my career, no one else will.”
“What about my career?” Not that he thought of this as a career. It was more a miracle out of nowhere to get the role, but the miracle would never turn into anything more if Raine got him fired.
“That’s your problem, not mine. You better learn fast—it’s everybody for themselves in this business. I’m so done with this day,” she said, more to herself than to Stefan as she left the room.
He actually did feel like a kicked puppy. How could they change things on him this far into the game?
Stefan tried to make his face expressionless as he went into the room set aside for the costumes. He shouldn’t have bothered. The costume people didn’t even speak to him when he handed them his tunic. They were gathered around Raine’s jacket, looking more like they were mourning at a funeral than staring at a piece of fabric. He grabbed his regular clothes and went into the changing room, trying not to listen to their discussion. It was just a piece of fabric, and he knew they had extras. After he was dressed, he tossed the rest of the costume on another table and left them to it.
Back in the lobby, he was unsure what to do. Maybe he should quit the movie before he got fired. Tell them his mom needed him at home. Tell his mom he decided he didn’t want to act. Except Heather would know the truth. He didn’t remember what his contract said about quitting. If he quit, what would happen to the money he’d already been paid? It was spent, except the part that went into an account he couldn’t get at until he was eighteen. The rest he couldn’t give back.
“Stefan!” Heather came down the stairs in a cloud of perfume. “I’m going to dinner with Brad, you know, the wolf trainer? You’re fine, right? Brad says he heard there’s a fun pub in the village with live music, and I’ve been kind of bored hanging around here all day. Since you’re going to be eating with Mark, you won’t miss me, will you?”
Stefan looked out one of the windows. It had stopped snowing, but he wondered about the condition of the road down to village. “Are you sure you should drive on an unfamiliar road? Is Brad driving?” Heather was a terrible driver, even without snow. She’d been in so many accidents his mom didn’t let any of them ride with her anymore.
“Stefan, you sound just like your mom. Who’s the older one here? Just for your information, Brad is driving, and there’s a truck with a snowplow attached to the front that’s already headed down the mountain. Brad says one of the crew has been driving the truck back and forth all day, keeping the road clear. The village isn’t that far away. I’m sure we’ll be fine, and we’ll be back in a few hours. Everyone is talking about how bad the snow will be tomorrow, and then we won’t be able to go anywhere.”
“If you get stuck, I’m going to tell you I told you so.” His mom always said Heather couldn’t sit still or be alone as a kid, wanting to be surrounded by people and noise all the time. He should have guessed she wouldn’t want to hang around a quiet lodge.
“Is it okay if I take your cell phone with me? My battery is low. I hope you don’t mind, I already picked up yours from your room.”
Stefan suspected it was because she really wanted the charges to show up on his phone bill instead of hers. She was never one to spend money if she didn’t have to. “Sure, have fun. Be careful.”
“I will,” she said, pulling up her coat around her neck. “Brad’s waiting for me in the car.”
After Heather left, Stefan went to the window to check on the snow. Where the snow hadn’t been shoveled it was deep, nice and smooth and unbroken. He wanted to be out in it, totally alone, away from everyone else. Sometimes at home he went out during a heavy snow, knowing everyone else would be inside, and he could let the cold air take over, clearing away everything crowding him.
Stefan ran upstairs and grabbed his coat. When he came back down he headed to the back door, right by the old reception desk. For some reason no one had been using the door, which meant he’d be less likely to run into anyone if he went out that way. When he opened it, he understood the reason it wasn’t in use. There was a porch, but beyond that no one had shoveled the walkway to the parking lot. Stefan guessed it was just too much work to keep both the front and the back clear. Once he was outside the cold jolted him, but it was exactly what he wanted. The light was already fading, and he decided to get a closer look at the snow skimmers before it was completely dark. The set was so far away from any signs of civilization, the only lights he could see were the ones coming from the lodge and a few of the motor homes and the semitrailers. The rest looked like they had been shut up for the night.
He had to cross the parking lot to get to the far corner where the skimmers were located, and he was surprised to see something new on his way there. At some point during the afternoon someone had erected an igloo-shaped structure that looked like it had been carved out of pieces of black ice, ridged with abstract swirls. Stefan thought it might be the command outpost in the script. It was kind of bizarre looking, not exactly what he would have chosen, but at least it seemed futuristic. Whatever the designers had done to coat the thin metal panels that formed the building, they’d succeeded in creating an otherworldly look. There was a faint shimmer underneath the black, like the metal was glowing all on its own.
In the script, he crawled to the command outpost after he had been injured. If they made him die now, it would probably not happen there; more likely he would be doing something stupidly heroic. He still felt sick at the thought of having to do some big emotional scene he hadn’t known about, like he was some puppet they could control by pulling the strings. Though if Raine had her way and he got fired, it wouldn’t even be an issue.
All the more reason to look at the skimmers while he could. When he reached them he ran his hand along the snow accumulating on the tarps. It would be nice to sit in one at least once. He checked behind him. The few remaining crew people across the parking lot were not paying any attention to him.
The tarps were fastened on with bungee cords, so it was easy to unhook one on the far side, out of sight. He shook off some o
f the snow and lifted up the corner to get a better look. The body of the skimmer was painted a metallic gray shade with the stylized wolf image on the side. There was one tube-like weapon mounted on each side, like rocket launchers. Stefan knew from the script there were supposed to be glove joysticks inside to control them, not to make them fire or anything, because they weren’t real, but to make them move like they were being aimed. He took hold of one to see how far it would swing up and down, but it was fastened with some sort of temporary clamp, probably to hold it in place until they were ready for it. He unclamped it carefully and moved it up and down, picturing some sort of laser weapon shooting out of it.
The latch for the canopy was right in front of him. He clamped the tube weapon back on and then hesitated for a moment, eyeing the latch. It wouldn’t have to be opened all the way for him to climb in. He’d just sit in it for a minute. He unlatched it.
The trailer made a perfect step to boost himself up. Once inside, Stefan realized too late the snow from his boots and his coat was getting all over. He didn’t have any way to clean it up, so he hoped no one would notice. Closing his eyes, he put his hands into the joystick gloves and tried to visualize shooting at one of the many weird creatures in the script. Nothing came into his head, no image of flying or battling monsters or anything. How was he supposed to act scared of a prop? Maybe he was a lousy actor after all.
A man’s voice right outside the skimmer said, “It’s going to be a major job to get these rigged in all this snow.” Stefan froze, hoping they didn’t decide to lift the tarp. “I wish Mark would just take the easy way out and do this all in a warm, dry studio against a blue screen.”
“Mark wants it more ‘authentic.’” Another man gave a snort of disgust. “You know his reputation.”
The voices moved off, and Stefan slumped down, relieved he didn’t have to explain what he was doing. Being almost discovered took the fun out of sitting in the skimmer, so he waited a few minutes, trying to calculate how long it would take the men to walk away. When Stefan was sure they’d be gone, he lifted the canopy just enough to slip out, and fastened the tarp back down. The men hadn’t been very observant; his footprints were everywhere in the snow. If the snow started again tomorrow, all traces of his presence would be gone soon enough. He shivered, deciding it was time to head inside. Maybe everyone else would be so busy they wouldn’t notice him. He didn’t think he could take any more death glares about Raine’s costume.
Crossing the parking lot to get to the back door, Stefan smelled pipe smoke, spicy and sweet at the same time, like a mix of smoke and cherries. It reminded him of his grandfather. Before his death, his grandfather smoked a pipe almost every evening, and the scent of it was a signal that the day was ending in a good way.
The scent was coming across the lot from one of the semitrailers. Stefan hadn’t yet been in any of them, but they looked like they were specially adapted for movie use. Unlike normal semis, these all had trailers on the back that reminded Stefan of office buildings on wheels, with doors on one side and portable steps pushed up to them. As he drew closer to the pipe smell, he could see a sliver of light shining out from one of the doors. It opened all the way, and Cecil came out onto the top step, tapping his pipe on the frame. Stefan held still, not wanting the old man to notice him, but Cecil did. “Stefan? Is that you under all that snow? What are you doing standing out in the cold?” He opened the door and motioned. “Come join us! There’s someone you should meet.”
Stefan couldn’t figure out a way to say no, but once inside he was glad he had come in. The place looked like a high-tech Santa’s workshop. It was jammed with tools. Cables crisscrossed the room, connecting multiple laptops, and bits of unidentifiable creatures were scattered about, including one supersized furry paw that ended in teeth instead of claws. There was hardly room to move.
“Come on in,” a voice said. “I’m almost finished here.”
“Stefan, meet the finest creature designer in the world, Alan McKellon,” Cecil said. “He’s the real star of these movies.” The man who looked up from a keyboard fit the room. He was like Santa Claus turned pirate, beads braided into his white fluffy beard and one large hoop earring glinting in the light.
Cecil moved a chair out the way so he could close the door. “I was ecstatic when I heard Alan was on board. You should have seen the creatures he made for my last movie, They Came From Below. Did you ever catch that?”
Stefan shook his head. “No, sorry.”
“I guess I’m not surprised.” Cecil sighed. “It went straight to DVD anyway. The lead actor turned out to be abysmal. I should have done the zombie movie instead. Mr. McKellon, why don’t you amaze and astound this young gentleman with some of your creations?”
“He’s already seen one of them. What did you think of my frost devils? I worked very hard to get the color of the intestines just right.”
So no one had told McKellon what had happened. “They were . . . great,” Stefan said. “Very alien looking.”
“Good! Good! I want you to see some of my other lovelies.” McKellon pulled out what looked sort of like a softball-sized crystal spider, except it had dozens of legs instead of just eight. “I’ve had myself a grand time with these. They’ll be the ones popping up out of the snow and coating the unwary with ice threads. According to the script, they work in packs, like piranhas. I believe some of your loyal followers will meet a rather unfortunate demise.” He put the spider on his sleeve and squeezed the top of it, which made its legs clamp down on his arm. “Not very cuddly, are they?”
“Do they really spit out ice threads?” Stefan asked.
“Sorry, lad, they don’t really do that. That effect will be added in postproduction. They do make an unpleasant sound though. Listen to this.” He pushed a hidden button, and the ice spider let out a high-pitched buzzing noise, like giant wasps, overlaid with a screeching metal-scraping-on-metal sound. Stefan covered his ears.
“I would describe that as appalling rather than merely unpleasant,” Cecil said.
“When they’re all going, it’s enough to drive a chap insane.” McKellon sounded cheerful at the idea. “And I’ve finally got these working.” He picked up a costume that looked identical to the one Stefan had just taken off, holding it out. Stefan took it, surprised at how heavy it was.
“What’s different about this one?” Stefan asked.
“Mark had a rather last-minute idea that the disks on your costumes are supposed to activate to form your own personal shield armor, like a force field. The costumes you’ll wear for most of the shots don’t have the hardware sewn into them, because it’s easily damaged, but for certain shots you’ll wear these.” McKellon reached into the end of one sleeve, and immediately each disk let out a circular glow, overlapping all the others.
“The disks were made so that we could embed hundreds of LED lights and connect them to battery packs. I’m afraid these tunics will be much heavier than your regular ones, but at least they’ll be warmer, too. Good for this location, not so good once you’re on the studio set.”
“These are really great!” Stefan said, thinking how amazing it would be if the lights actually worked like real shields. Maybe someday in the future that sort of thing would be invented.
“I’m still working out this one. It’s for your stunt double when he falls off the cliff, and I don’t want the battery packs to hurt him when he hits the air bag at the bottom.”
Stefan went still. “I fall off a cliff?”
McKellon laughed. “Not you! I said it was your double. And he’ll fall right onto a nice cushioned air bag.” The prop man pointed at some rolls of black plastic lined up neatly on a shelf behind him. “They don’t look like much now, but when we blow them up, it’s just like falling into the softest mattress you can imagine.”
That wasn’t what Stefan meant, but he didn’t correct McKellon. The script he had seen didn’t have any cliff falls. He knew he was going to have a stunt double, because he wasn’t old enough
to be allowed to do his own stunts, but he didn’t know they had added that into the script. Was that the death scene?
“I wish I had time to show you the larger creature costumes.” Alan switched off the lights on the tunic. “They’re in the other trailer, but imagine something like a gigantic bear with a saber-toothed baboon face covered in a rather ghastly walrus hide instead of fur. Fantastically frightening. We’ve hired some very, very tall extras to wear them. It’s getting late, and about time to close up, so I’ll have to show them to you tomorrow.”
Stefan wasn’t sure he’d still be here. If he was, he’d bring Jeremy along. The kid would probably like to see them.
“Where are you staying?” Cecil asked Alan. “I thought I’d nip into the village one night for a meal.”
“The rest of the props team and I are at one of the more remote hotels. They’ve scattered us across twelve villages to find enough rooms for us all. How’s the lodge fitted out for you? I’m surprised they went to so much trouble to get it in shape.”
“They did it so the children wouldn’t waste their limited working time on being driven back and forth to the set. We’re on a tight schedule as it is. I quite like being right here. Not such an early call in the mornings. And there won’t be any late-night noise from the neighbors. I don’t think there’s a soul within miles of us.”
“There may be no call at all tomorrow if the snow starts up again.” McKellon checked his watch. “Time to go.”
Outside, Stefan flipped his collar up around his neck trying to block the cold. He was ready to be back inside.
“You did fine today,” Cecil said to him. “The first days of filming are always rough.”
“Right.” Stefan knew Cecil was just trying to make him feel better. He doubted if many first days went as badly as this one had.
“Why don’t you go on ahead, Stefan?” Cecil said. “I want a few more words with Alan.”
Stefan headed back to the lodge, wondering what he was going to do with himself when he got there. When he came in he almost ran into Jeremy’s dad, who was standing by the front door, wearing a coat and boots. He nodded to Stefan but then turned away like he wasn’t planning to talk to him.
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