by J. J. Murray
Katharina growled.
Bianca stepped back. “I’m just, um, saying, Miss Minola. This is a, um, I’ll shut up.”
Katharina stared into the fire. “You’re full of shit, Bianca, you know that? Don’t give me your opinions about acting or making movies. You don’t know shit about this business. I was making movies when you were still in diapers.”
I wasn’t in diapers when I was seven, Bianca thought.
“No,” Katharina said, slowly shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have crossed that stream if there was a tableful of roast beef and all the trimmings on the other side. I wouldn’t have crossed that stream if Scottie was on the other side barking for me. It’s the principle of the thing, you know? They ain’t runnin’ nothin’ here. I’m in control.” She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
Oh, I hope it’s something really nasty. “I don’t smell anything but pine and smoke and fresh air, Miss Minola. It smells good. Fresh. Clean. It even has a taste.”
Katharina stood. “No, you tree hugger. Another smell. A dead smell. Like ass. Like something died in here.” She sniffed around the fireplace and stepped back. “Something died in there, and I think it’s cooking. Get Fonzi in here right now.”
Bianca opened the door and nodded at Pietro. “Alessandro, we need you.”
“His name is Fonzi,” Katharina said.
Pietro entered the cabin, a huge stack of wood in his arms. He laid down the stack and added one log to the fire.
“Tell Fonzi that something died in here, Bianca.”
Oh, how childish! Not this game. “Did something die in here?” Bianca asked him in Italian.
Pietro looked at Bianca holding herself and shivering slightly. “Just her humanity, obviously,” he said in Italian. He sniffed the air and nodded. “Might be some mice or bats cooking in the chimney,” he said in Italian.
“Yuck,” Bianca said.
“Yuck?” Katharina asked. “What’s yuck?”
Bianca approached Katharina. “He says there may be some dead mice or some dead bats in the chimney.” No need to embellish on that! “We kind of smoked and cooked them to death with our fire last night.”
Katharina left her chair and backed toward the door. “I am not staying here. We need a better cabin. No. We need a real house with heat and electricity and hot water. Do they have one like that in this country? Well, ask him.”
In Italian, Bianca asked, “Is there one?”
Pietro shook his head. “Tell her,” he said in Italian, “that this is the nicest dwelling within fifty miles.”
Bianca sighed. “He says this is by far the nicest one for a hundred miles in all directions. The, um, the other cabins don’t even have inside toilets.”
Katharina stepped away from Pietro. “Where does Fonzi shit, then, in the woods?”
Bianca tried to laugh. “Oh, Miss Minola, I don’t think—”
“Ask him, Bianca,” Katharina demanded. “Ask Fonzi if he shits in the woods. I want to know.”
Bianca looked at the floor. “I can’t ask him that, Miss Minola. It’s rude.”
“I don’t care,” Katharina said. “I’ll bet he does. I’ll bet he shits in the woods. He probably doesn’t even use toilet paper. He looks like a bear, and he acts like a bear.” She walked into the bathroom. “I need a bath, and I don’t care if it’s cold.” She turned on the cold water.
Pietro shook his head and whispered, “I’m already regretting this.”
Me too, Bianca thought.
Katharina looked at the brown water gushing into the tub. “Oh my God! Bianca, get Fonzi in here!”
Pietro went in and smiled. “Yes, Katharina?”
Katharina pointed at the water. “What is this, sewage?”
“Calma, calma,” Pietro said. “You wait.” A moment later, the water turned clear. “See!”
“Can you make it hot?” Katharina asked. “Can you do that for me?”
Pietro nodded.
Katharina blinked. “You can?”
Pietro nodded again.
“Well, don’t just stand there, go make it hot.”
Pietro shrugged at Bianca and left.
Katharina turned off the water. “Now we’re getting somewhere. You just have to know how to talk to him, show him who’s boss.”
Ten minutes later, Pietro returned with a huge black castiron cauldron and set it under the faucet in the tub. He turned on the water.
“You have to cook it first?” Katharina asked.
“Sì,” Pietro said.
“Where?” Katharina asked.
Pietro pointed to the fireplace.
Bianca looked in the fireplace and saw an iron bar flush on the side of the chimney. “He’ll hang it over the fire, Miss Minola. There’s an iron bar there.”
The cauldron full, Pietro hoisted it out of the tub and carried it to the fireplace, setting it down and pulling back the screen. He used a poker to pull the bar toward him and hung the cauldron over the fire.
“How long will that take?” Katharina asked.
Pietro shrugged and left.
Katharina stormed to the door. “I asked you a question, Fonzi!”
Pietro continued walking away without looking back.
Katharina turned to Bianca. “Did you see that? Did you see how he ignored me?”
I wish I could do that, Bianca thought. At least he gets to leave. “We’ll just wait until it boils, Miss Minola.” At least the witch now has her cauldron. “Double, double, toil and trouble” …
Katharina turned and smiled. “Guess what you’ll be doing every morning before you wake me?”
Bianca didn’t guess. She knew. “I don’t mind, Miss Minola.” It is my lot in life to suffer.
Pietro returned seconds later with a long metal rod. He pulled back the screen and began poking the bar up the chimney, soot falling into the cauldron.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Katharina yelled. “Cut that out!”
Pietro ignored her and thrust the rod higher, more soot falling into the cauldron, along with a singed and smoking mouse—plop!—and finally, a bat.
Pietro snatched the dead mouse and bat from the cauldron, smiled at Katharina, and left the cabin.
Katharina sat, her lower lip trembling. “That … that was disgusting. He expects me to bathe in that water? Is everyone crazy around here?”
“I’ll pour it out and get you some clean water, Miss Minola.”
Katharina shook her head. “Don’t bother. That pot is contaminated now. It probably has some rodent disease cooking in it. Get it out of here.”
Bianca struggled to lift the cauldron but couldn’t budge it an inch. “I can’t lift it, Miss Minola.”
Katharina closed her eyes. “Can’t take a bath. Can’t shave my legs. Can’t wear makeup. Haven’t eaten. Italians running around high on crack. Weak-ass assistant. I can’t win.”
Bianca tried again but failed, afraid if she stepped closer to get more leverage she would set herself on fire. “I can’t lift it, Miss Minola. I need your help.”
Katharina’s eyes popped open. “I am not touching that thing. Get Fonzi to help you.”
Bianca stuck her head outside. “I don’t see him.”
“Go find him, then!”
Bianca approached Katharina. “May I, may I please have my coat back, Miss Minola?”
Katharina stared at Bianca.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Bianca said, and she left the cabin.
“She’s muttering again,” Walt said.
“Volume up,” Fish said.
“Grain must be ground to make bread,” Katharina whispered. “And I’m the grain.” She sighed heavily. “‘By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept.’”
“What the hell was that about?” Fish asked.
“She’s quoting scripture,” Walt said. “I didn’t know Katharina and the Bible were on speaking terms. An apt choice, though. The Israelites were in captivity in Babylon. She’s starting to feel her role.”
Walt sighed. “She’s obviously not done playing her other role.”
“I think she’s getting ready to walk.”
Chapter 16
“Now we let her see some script,” Walt said. “Can you split the screen between Katharina’s face and the fax machine?”
“I can do anything,” Fish said. He tapped a few keys, and the fax machine filled the left side of the big screen, and on the right Katharina putting on her tiger blouse over the brown dress.
“Sending now.”
The fax machine spit out several pages and stopped.
“I sent twenty-three pages,” Walt said. “There are only three in the tray.”
“Must be jammed,” Fish said. “Paper must be humid from the rain last night or something.”
The screen containing Katharina showed her working the dress down her hips. “Bianca!”
“Damn,” Fish said. “She can’t even walk, what, fifteen feet to a fax machine?”
Katharina pulled the dress back up over her shoulders and her tiger blouse. “I have to do everything around here,” she muttered. She left her bedroom and went to the fax machine, snatching three pages from the tray. She tugged on a page stuck in the machine and wrestled it out until it tore, a loud beep sounding.
“Oh man,” Fish said. “She shouldn’t have done that. She went and broke it, Walt. Someone has to take it apart now to get all the little pieces of paper out.”
Walt tented his fingers and stared at Katharina’s face. “Shh. A jammed fax might even work more to our advantage. Go full screen.”
Katharina mumbled what she read. “‘Thousands of American slaves used the Underground Railroad to escape slavery during the mid-1800s. Many of those who escaped Virginia traveled through western Pennsylvania and western New York and to Niagara Falls, the gateway to southern Ontario. This is the story of one such slave, a woman who finds how free and freeing freedom can be.’ How free and freeing freedom can be? Who wrote this shit?”
“Ouch,” Fish said.
“It’s a play on words. Don’t you get it? ‘Free and freeing freedom.’”
Fish winced. “I get it, Walt. But still … ouch.”
Katharina sat at the table and read.
Scene 1
WOMAN runs through woods in predawn darkness, panting, hiding, crouching, her clothes soiled, torn, her arms and face bleeding. She attempts several times to cross a rushing stream but fails. Her brown dress becomes soaked with water. She sees a clearing on the other side of a deep stream and wades, swims, and flounders across it. On the other side she slips in mud, and crawls up the bank and across the clearing as the sun begins to rise. She hides under thick brush, holding her legs and shivering—ad-lib prayers, songs, words, etc.
“I already ruined a shot like that today,” Katharina whispered. “It wasn’t my fault it rained last night.”
She continued to read:
Scene 2
As clouds roll in, threatening heavy snow, WOMAN shivers. She tries to build a fire with her only protection, a sharp knife, and a piece of flint she finds nearby. She collects materials for her fire, occasional howls from wolves heard echoing in the distance. Ad-lib talking to fire, knife, clouds, etc. She eventually coaxes a small fire, playing her hands over the glow. Ad-lib prayers, songs, words, etc.
I am not filming at night in this cold-ass place, Katharina thought. I don’t want the grizzlies to come and get me.
Scene 3
WOMAN combs forest for food, berries, leaves, and / or nuts. She eats ravenously in the forest, spits out sour berries, and returns to her fire, eating greedily, her eyes sharp and darting toward every rustling movement in the forest. Ad-lib throughout.
“So this is how they’re going to feed me,” Katharina whispered. “All the way over in Scene 3. Shit, I better get to work so I don’t starve.”
Scene 4
WOMAN traps and kills small game (chipmunks, squirrels, birds). She guts and skins them like an expert, then cooks them over the fire. She eats with gusto. Ad-lib throughout.
Uh, no. Not gonna happen. I don’t even roast marshmallows anymore.
Scene 5
WOMAN builds shelter using sticks, logs, stones, mud, foliage, animal sinews, snow, and ice (if available). Ad-lib throughout. She whittles weapons and hums a spiritual. When weather cooperates, she attempts to fish in stream using wooden spears. Ad-lib throughout.
“Oh,” Katharina said, tossing aside the pages, “they didn’t spare any expense writing this shit.”
“Ouch again!” Fish said.
“Shh,” Walt said. “It’s supposed to be like a skeleton. She’s supposed to provide the muscle and the meat.”
“I can’t see Katharina doing chipmunk kabobs, can you?” Fish asked.
She looked back to the instructions for Scene 1. Well, it’s a start. I’ve always wanted an action flick, and I sure as hell got one. The action doesn’t start until I do. At least I get to make up my own lines, something I usually do, anyway, but … I get to make them all up.
She looked at the door. “Bianca!” I also get to hum again. I can do that. “Bianca!” Singing a spiritual? Kinda cliché there. Lord knows I can’t really sing. I wouldn’t want the Pentecostals coming after me if I botched “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.”
Katharina rose wearily from the chair and went to the little window beside the door. Coming up the path were Pietro, carrying another load of wood, and Bianca, who looked like a dwarf next to him.
Katharina returned quickly to the table, grabbing the pages and “reading” them again.
Bianca opened the door, Pietro following close behind. He laid down the wood quietly and quickly removed the cauldron, carrying it through the doorway with one hand.
“Don’t toss out that water near this cabin, Fonzi,” Katharina said.
Pietro smiled, spilled a few drops of water on the threshold, and left.
“He did that on purpose,” Katharina said.
“That cauldron was heavy, Miss Minola,” Bianca said. “And he only used one hand.”
All brawn, no brain—like this script. Katharina waved the partial script in the air. “This, Bianca, is the sorriest script I have ever seen. Put my boots on.”
Bianca narrowed her eyes. “Put your boots on?”
“I don’t stutter,” Katharina said. “Put my boots on.”
While Bianca struggled with Katharina’s boots, Katharina removed her tiger blouse. “It’s barely an outline, really, and I have no set lines. I have to make up this shit as I go along.”
Bianca pulled the strings tightly. “Is that the entire script?”
“Button me up.”
Bianca worked the buttons at the back of Katharina’s dress.
“The rest of it wouldn’t print out,” Katharina said. “I had to yank out the last page.”
Bianca took the tiger blouse and folded it, staring at the pages. “What do they say?”
“They don’t say much. It’s basically a list of what I’m to do with the headset on.” She pointed to the headset, and Bianca put it on. “While I’m out, you see what’s wrong with that machine. Maybe you can get the rest of the pages to print out.”
I like this Katharina, Bianca thought. She’s on the ball. “Yes, Miss Minola. I’ll do my best.”
Katharina took a deep breath and stood, smoothing out her dress. “How do I look?”
Like a new person. “You look ready, Miss Minola.”
Katharina nodded. “I am.” She squared her shoulders and set her chin.
Bianca heard Katharina’s stomach growling.
Katharina’s eyes faltered a moment, and then she left the cabin, striding out with purpose and power.
Bianca felt the goose bumps on her arms subside by themselves. I think I’ve just seen the old Katharina! I wish I had my camera!
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“Target has left the building with a gurgling stomach,” Fish said, “target has left the—”
“Cut it out,” Walt interrupted.
“You’re no fun. You’re just mad your script sucks.”
Walt smiled. “And you saw the result. I’m glad it sucks. Now we’ll see some magic.”
“You hope.”
Chapter 17
Katharina walked with purpose past Pietro’s cabin, and past Pietro holding an empty cauldron and Curtis chewing on a bush. She came to the part of the stream where the stepping-stones were and frowned. The water had fallen off to a trickle, each stone several inches above the water. Deciding that crossing there would be too easy, she crashed and slid down the steep hill.
“Whoa,” Walt said. “That’s kind of disorienting.”
“Wait till she falls,” Fish said. “That will mess you up completely.”
Katharina wandered farther down, nearly stumbling the last few feet to her former spot in front of the widest part of the stream. She waved at Vincenzo, who hadn’t seemed to have moved since earlier in the day.
“Miss Katharina!” Vincenzo yelled. “The stream, it is lower now. It will not be so hard.” He swung up his camera. “Whenever you are ready.”
No problem, she thought. No problem at all.
She took two steps into the water, then jumped back on dry land.
Problem.
“Shit!” she yelled. My feet are ice, oh geez, I have no toes! My ankles have locked in place!
“Is cold,” a deep voice behind her said. “Freddo.”
Katharina nodded at Pietro as she stamped her feet. “I can handle it, Fonzi. Now you just … run along and play with your mule.”
Pietro nodded and trudged up the hill.
“We’re trying for less than an R rating here, aren’t we?” Walt asked.