Greatest Zombie Movie Ever (18 page)

Bobby got another ten people to agree to be zombies. And miraculously they found a thirteen-year-old girl named Cindy who wanted to go to a beauty academy someday, so they put her to work making up the background zombies, the ones who didn't need gruesome appliances stuck to their faces.

Alicia and Christopher were here to shoot the final scene of the movie. Not the last scene they had to shoot
for
the movie—there were so many scenes left that whenever he thought about it, Justin's stomach dropped like he was plummeting down the first hill of a roller coaster—but the final dramatic shot, where Veronica Chaos and Runson Mudd stood together on a street littered with the countless zombies they'd killed and the camera slowly pulled back until the screen cut to black. This would be followed by the best part of the entire movie, namely the credit that said, “Directed by Justin Hollow.”

Okay, they weren't just standing together.

They were kissing.

Justin was not a fan of the kissing scene.

“It's too predictable,” he'd said. “If two people have fallen in love, the audience is going to expect them to kiss, so why don't we subvert expectations and have them
not
kiss?”

“So…what? You want the payoff to their whole relationship to be them doing a fist bump?”

“Why can't they just gaze dramatically off into the horizon? That's what I'd be doing in their situation. I'd be looking boldly toward the future, not trying to snog somebody.”

“We've already discussed this,” Gabe had said. “It's a kiss between two actors playing fictional characters we created for them. If you can't handle that, you shouldn't be a director.”

And so Alicia, lovely Alicia, and Christopher were standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, while the actors playing zombies lay on the pavement. A couple of them had asked for pillows, but Justin had explained that it stretched credibility too much for them to have been killed and then fallen on top of a comfy pillow. Uncle Clyde went around, dousing them with blood and scattering body parts all over.

“Camera ready?” Justin asked Gabe.

“Ready.”

“Slate.”

Daisy did her slate, once again without pinching anything in the clapboard.

“Action!”

Gabe very slowly began to walk backward.

Alicia and Christopher had no lines. This was where the final music would swell. All they had to do was turn to each other, look into each other's eyes, and then share a gentle kiss.

They turned to each other.

Looked into each other's eyes.

Leaned into each other.

And shared a gentle kiss.

A gentle kiss that seemed to be going on a bit long, but that was okay. Justin wasn't jealous. Honestly their lips were barely even touching, and he thought he might have even detected a faint trace of disgust in Alicia's expression. It was probably because of the blood instead of the person she was kissing, but Justin would take the disgust any way he could get it.

“Whoops,” said Gabe. “Aw, jeez, I'm sorry.”

“What?”

“I stumbled over something. We'll have to do it again.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it's hard to walk backward and keep the shot steady. I'm really sorry.” Gabe looked genuinely apologetic. This betrayal had not been on purpose. That didn't mean Justin forgave him, but at least it had been an accident.

“All right,” said Justin, remaining professional. “How about we practice the shot without the kissing part a few times just to make sure this doesn't happen again?”

“No, it's okay,” said Gabe. “There was a severed hand on the ground.”

“We should practice anyway. It's disrespectful to the actors if we make them repeat shots multiple times because we on the crew aren't fully prepared.”

“We're fine,” said Christopher. “We'll do as many takes as you want.”

“Back to your places then. Camera ready?”

“Ready.”

“Slate.”

Daisy did the slate. Even though Justin was all business on the set, he really didn't understand how she could keep doing the slate without at least once pretending that she'd pinched her nose in it. Everybody enjoyed that joke.

“Action!”

Gabe began to walk backward again.

Alicia and Christopher turned to each other, gazed into each other's eyes, and shared a gentle kiss.

Then it stopped being such a gentle kiss.

“Ow!” said one of the zombies who'd asked for a pillow. He sat up, clutching his leg. “Leg cramp!”

“Is he in the shot?” Justin asked Gabe.

Gabe stopped walking. “Yeah.”

“Cut!”

Alicia and Christopher separated, though not as quickly as Justin would have preferred.

“You're out of the scene,” Justin told the zombie.

“You try lying on the pavement without getting a leg cramp!”

“Go. You can still have cookies, but I need you out of my shot.”

The zombie stood up and limped out of the shot.

“Anybody else getting leg cramps?” Justin asked.

“My legs are fine,” said one of the zombies, “but this liver by my head is really distracting. Can somebody move it?”

“No. The liver stays.”

“Can it at least not be glistening?”

“All right, fine. Anybody who is uncomfortable with the internal organs lying next to them is welcome to move, but do it now.”

Several of the zombies moved to new places on the street.

“Does it still look like the aftermath of a zombie massacre?” Justin asked Gabe.

Gabe peered through the camera. “Yeah, we're good.”

“Action!”

Alicia and Christopher turned to each other, gazed into each other's eyes, and went straight into a passionate kiss.

Gabe slowly walked backward.

The heroine and hero put their arms around each other, still kissing. Justin watched them carefully, ready to call, “Cut!” if he saw any tongue.

“Wow, they're really going at it,” Uncle Clyde whispered.

“Shhhh.”

“Should I call one of the fire engines back so we can turn the hose on them?”

“Seriously. Shhhh.”

“I see saliva.”

Justin looked over at Gabe, making very sure that there was nothing behind him that might cause him to stumble. There was absolutely no way they were doing this scene again. If the final scene of their movie involved the cameraman tripping, so be it.

“Do we have the shot?” Justin asked.

Gabe shook his head and continued walking backward.

Alicia and Christopher were even making soft moaning sounds while they kissed. What was wrong with them? Who told them to relate so well to their characters?

Justin's face burned, and it was probably even redder than the faces of the people who were covered in blood. But he would not call, “Cut!” until Gabe had the complete shot. He was a professional. He was not jealous. He was not jealous. He was not jealous.

He was not jealous.

He, Justin Hollow, was not jealous.

Justin Hollow, director of this movie, was not jealous.

He was not jealous.

He was not jealous.

Maybe he felt a smidgen of mild envy. But not jealousy.

Not jealousy. Not jealousy. Not jealousy. Not jealousy.

Hank the police officer chuckled. “If they keep this up, I may have to arrest them for indecent behavior.”

Was Christopher dipping her? It looked like he was dipping her a little. This was unacceptable! A gentle kiss! That's what Justin had instructed them to do! Didn't they realize that he'd have to watch this over and over during the editing process? It was cruel and unusual punishment!

Couldn't Gabe walk backward any faster? Why did the camera need to pull back slowly for their final shot? What was wrong with the camera pulling back quickly? Audiences didn't need to watch those two going at it like slobbering beasts.

“She's kneading his back,” Bobby whispered. “Was she supposed to do that?”

“No, she was not.”

“See, you were all worried that they wouldn't have any chemistry, but that's the most chemistry I've ever seen in my life.”

“No, I said that they
would
have chemistry.”

“Oh. Well, you were right. Because look at them!”

“You do remember that I have feelings for Alicia, right?”

“Still?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, I thought you were over that. So everything I've been saying for the past fifteen seconds has sounded really heartless. I'm sorry about that, though it kind of serves you right for making me eat the eyeball.”

“I made you chew the eyeball, not eat it.”

“I accidentally swallowed it when I put the intestine in my mouth. I wasn't going to say anything unless I started choking.”

“Can we have this discussion later?”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

“And…I've got it,” said Gabe.

“Cut!” said Justin.

Alicia and Christopher did not separate.

“Cut!” Justin repeated.

Their lips remained locked together.

Okay, enough was enough. Justin understood the good fortune Christopher was experiencing right now, but it wasn't appropriate to stand there, slobbering all over each other after the director called, “Cut!” twice. If they wanted to keep going at it, they could at least have the courtesy to crawl down into burnt ruins of Uncle Clyde's basement so nobody else would have to witness their animalistic cravings.

Justin stormed over to them. “So hey, remember that time a few seconds ago that I called, ‘Cut?' It's something we film directors say to indicate that the on-camera action no longer needs to continue. I assumed that you were aware of this, but perhaps a reminder is necessary. Maybe I could get the production designer to come up with some visual aids. Oh, wait. We don't have a production designer, so I guess you'll have to figure out on your own that when I say… Hey, are you two okay?” Justin stopped the flow of sarcasm as he realized that Christopher was frantically gesturing to their lips.

Christopher said something that was muffled. Alicia added something that was equally muffled.

“Hey, Uncle Clyde? Could you come here a second. I think the fake blood dried, and they can't get their lips apart.”

Uncle Clyde rushed over and looked at them. “Yep, that's what happened all right.”

“Well, fix it.”

“Hand me the rubbing alcohol.”

“Where is it?”

“You brought some, right?”

“No, I assumed you had it.”

“Mine was lost in the fire. It might have been what caused the fire actually. That stuff is pretty flammable.”

“You two aren't suffocating, right?” Justin asked.

Alicia and Christopher shook their heads as one.

“Should we try to pull them apart?”

“Nope,” said Uncle Clyde. “That's a good way for one of them to lose a set of lips. Believe me. You don't want the legal hassles that go with that kind of thing.”

“Do any of you zombies have rubbing alcohol?”

One of the female zombies sat up. “I've got a bottle, but it's at home. I only live a few houses down. I'll go get it.”

“Thanks.”

The zombie hurried off. Justin wasn't sure if he should continue to be consumed with jealousy over the Alicia-Christopher situation. Probably not. They didn't seem to be having a very good time.

“I know you've got an issue right now,” said Gabe, “but the shot looks fantastic. Totally worth it. Assuming, y'know, that there's no permanent damage to their lips.”

• • •

The rubbing alcohol did the trick. When Alicia and Christopher's lips came apart, Justin got the impression that neither one of them was in any rush to attempt another kiss.

Justin knew that it was evil for him to be happy about this, but sometimes you just had to be evil.

“Make sure you get a close-up of the logo,” said Justin.

“I am,” Gabe assured him, zooming in on the Monkey Burger sign.

“It needs to look appealing.”

“It's completely appealing.”

“Go inside and get a few shots of people enjoying their food. Try not to get any close-ups of the actual food because it never looks edible, but get seven or eight shots of smiling faces.”

“Do you want me to ask somebody to rub their tummy in satisfaction?”

“No. If they ask what you're doing, say that you're getting footage for one of those restaurant shows. Tell them that later today the host is going to take the Monkey Burger challenge and eat a twelve-pound burger in half an hour. Nobody will leave if they think they'll get to witness that.”

“I'll be back.” Gabe went inside with the camera.

“Are you about ready?” Justin asked Christopher.

Christopher applied some more ChapStick. “Yeah.”

They were about to shoot a flashback sequence showing Runson Mudd's first encounter with the living dead. The crowd of zombies stood behind Justin, waiting for their cue.

Since they'd had so much difficulty recruiting extras, Justin had decided that perhaps they should utilize actors who were not necessarily aware that they were in a movie. It was entirely possible that one or both of the police officers would have discouraged this, but fortunately they'd been called away to investigate an armed robbery.

The owner of Monkey Burger was okay with the scene as long as the film didn't try to imply that human flesh tasted better than his hamburgers. Justin had assured him that it wouldn't.

“And if any of the zombies are eating guts, you need to make it clear that these are guts from a person and that they're not eating a burger. I don't want potential customers thinking that our burgers look like guts.”

“They won't.”

“And you can't do a scene where a zombie is eating guts and then changes his mind and starts eating a burger instead,” the owner had said. “That sounds like it's a compliment, but it's still too close of an association between our burgers and human guts. If I see that on the big screen, you'll be hearing from my attorney.”

“It's time,” Justin said to Christopher. “Go in, sit down, and act natural.”

Christopher applied one last layer of ChapStick and went into the restaurant.

“Listen up, zombies,” said Justin. “It's very important that we get this in one take, so please no giggling, no matter how hilarious the customers' terror is. Do
not
bite anybody for real. I repeat, do
not
bite anybody. Some of the customers may have pepper spray, so I need all of you to be on high alert. Don't knock any trays of food to the floor if customers are still eating because we'll have to buy them new lunches then. Are there any questions?”

“Is the production insured in case somebody gets injured?” asked one of the zombies.

“Yes,” said Uncle Clyde. “I've taken care of it.”

“It's almost time to go in,” said Justin. “Everybody clear your mind except for zombie thoughts. Let's hear your zombie groans.”

The zombies groaned.

“Perfect. And…action!”

The zombies shuffled toward the restaurant. The one in front helpfully held the door for the others, but fortunately that polite-but-inappropriate-for-a-zombie act wouldn't be caught on camera.

Justin, Bobby, Daisy, and Uncle Clyde waited patiently for the first scream.

Somebody screamed.

Then somebody else screamed.

A woman came running out of the restaurant.

“Catch her! Catch her!” Justin told Bobby. “Make her sign a release form!”

Bobby hurried after the woman.

A man walked out of the restaurant, shielding the eyes of a young boy. Daisy went after him with another release form.

“How many people do you think will believe that this is the real zombie apocalypse?” asked Uncle Clyde.

“Not too many. I just want them to look startled.”

“Maybe they'll play along.”

“I hope so.”

The screams continued.

“Yeah, they're playing along,” said Justin. “Cool.”

“Or else your zombies are getting too much into their roles.”

“I instructed them not to.”

“If I'm in full zombie makeup and I've psyched myself up and some lady is holding her arm in front of her face, I don't care what the director said. I'm going for the arm.”

“I think they'll be responsible.”

More screaming.

“The customers are good actors,” Justin noted.

“They certainly are.”

“Maybe I should go in there.”

“You'll get in Gabe's shot.”

“This is the end of days!” a woman wailed.

Justin relaxed. “She's just playing along.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. That sounds like movie dialogue. That's not something anybody would actually say in this situation in real life.”

Additional screams.

“Run for your lives from the zombie menace!” a man shouted. “We're all
doooooomed
!”

“Okay, good. That's definitely somebody playing along. The zombies didn't get out of control.” Justin frowned. “I wish he was a better actor though. I hope he's not messing up the scene.”

There was the sound of glass breaking.

“Ummmm…” said Justin.

“Was anybody supposed to break glass?”

“No.”

“I don't see any shattered windows. Maybe a server dropped something.”

“Even so, that's not good. We don't want people walking on glass.”

“Yeah, I'd better call cut.” Justin ran toward the restaurant. “Cut! Cut!
Cut
!
”

• • •

Nobody was injured in the attack on Monkey Burger. A glass of water did get shattered, and three burgers were dropped on the floor. But overall the customers seemed to have been entertained, and all of them cheerfully signed release forms. It wouldn't have made sense to blur somebody's face in a movie, so if some people had refused to let themselves appear on screen, Justin would have digitally decapitated them.

The attack on the clothing store also went well. The lady who'd been in the fitting room did refuse to sign the form. But they could edit around her, and it was her own fault for rushing out to see what the commotion was about before she was ready.

The attack on the doughnut shop suffered a setback when an elderly woman was a bit too quick on the draw with her Taser. Though the zapped zombie was cool about it, after he stopped twitching, Justin decided that they'd pushed their luck far enough.

“How do you feel about today's material so far?” asked Spork, filming Justin at such an angle that he worried about his nostrils being sufficiently clean.

“It's great. Maybe it's kind of cheesy if you watch the raw footage, but once we edit it together and add music, it will be true horror.”

“So do you think that you're making the greatest zombie movie ever?”

“It's hard to say.”

“If it turns out to not be the greatest zombie movie ever, will you feel like you've failed?”

“No. If it turns out to be the worst zombie movie ever, yeah, I might feel like I've failed. Because even the biggest zombie fan in the world has to admit that when you're talking about the worst zombie movie ever, the bar is
really
low. In fact, it would probably be harder to make the worst zombie movie ever on purpose than it would to make the best one.”

“Maybe you should try that.”

“No, no, I'd rather make a good one.”

Spork went off to interview somebody else. Justin was really pleased, but deep in his heart—actually even on the surface of his heart—he knew that they weren't making an all-time zombie classic. But at least they were
trying
to make something great. How many fifteen-year-olds actually completed a feature film?

Not that he could put himself into that category yet. They were so far behind schedule that he couldn't even conceive of a way they could finish on time, unless everybody was willing to skip school for two weeks and fail their final exams. They weren't. He didn't even have to ask to know that they weren't.

Nor was he. It felt good to realize that this project wasn't entirely all-consuming and that he still cared about his non-movie future.

The only way to finish was to do something drastic. To not only take away the safety net but to raise the tightrope by about two hundred feet. And take away the pole that tightrope walkers use for balance. And make them wear boots filled with rocks. And then hang a bunch of yetis from the rope.

He had an idea, but Gabe was going to freak.

• • •

“What?” said Gabe, not freaking out but also not saying, “What?” in a particularly merry tone of voice.

“We do the whole final sequence in one shot.”

“That's the last third of the script.”

“Right.”

“That's half an hour,” said Bobby.

“Also right.”

Gabe gave Justin an incredulous look. “We can't do half an hour in one unbroken shot.”

“If we pull this off, then we've got time to finish the rest of the movie! And you'll get credit for an amazing technical feat.”

“The last half hour of the movie has stunts. Special effects. It takes place all over the school.”

“Right. In the new version, we follow Alicia and Christopher the whole time. They're good at staying in character. We follow them through the whole school, fighting off zombies.”

“What about the blood? If we do it in a single take, nobody can wipe up the blood. Somebody will slip and hurt themselves.”

“We'll add the blood later.”

“We said no CGI blood.”

“Did you see how much blood got dumped on Bobby and Mr. Pamm? If somebody watches our movie and complains about insufficient blood, that's just them being unhappy with their own lives. I have faith in you, Gabe. You can do this. You can keep it in focus.”

“What if somebody really messes up?”

“If that happens, we'll cover it with a digital shot of a zombie walking in front of the camera. I'm not promising you that it will turn out great. But if it works, this will be our hook! This will be what makes people want to see the movie!”

“There is a ninety-nine percent chance that this will be laughably bad.”

“I'll take those odds.”

“Those are terrible odds.”

“But if it works…”

“Yes, on the one-in-a-hundred chance that it's not embarrassingly bad, it'll be pretty cool. But you don't understand how much work goes into an extended single take. You don't just improvise something like that. It takes tons of rehearsal. You have to know exactly where the camera needs to be at every moment. You have to figure out how to light the scene properly but keep the lights out of the shot. How are we going to get everybody through a doorway? Have you worked that out? Will our movie still be great if the camera is stuck behind a long line of zombies waiting to get through a doorway?”

“No,” said Justin. “It will not still be great. I'm asking you to trust me. Not to trust me that it will work. I'm fully admitting that it will probably be an epic disaster. I'm asking you to trust me that we should take the risk on the one percent chance that it
does
work and we make magic. If we don't make magic, are we really any worse off?”

“I guess not. But I want it stated for the record that Bobby dropped a boom mic on our lead actress in a very simple shot that was only fifteen seconds.”

“He's right,” said Bobby. “I did.”

“I understand that. And I believe he can do better.”

“I believe he can too,” said Gabe. “But I do want my comment on the record.”

“It's on the record,” said Spork.

“So we're going to try this,” said Justin. Neither Gabe nor Bobby had officially agreed, but he figured that if he moved forward as if they had, they might not protest. “I need you guys to work with Uncle Clyde on touching up the zombie makeup. Some of their wounds are starting to fall off. The maintenance guy is going to meet me at school to let me in, so make sure everybody is there in half an hour.”

“I'll go with you,” said Gabe.

“No, that's okay. I've got this covered.”

“What if you need to carry something?”

“I won't. It'll be fine. The zombies are more important.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes. Justin wanted to chuckle in a manner that deflected suspicion, but he wasn't confident enough in his chuckling abilities to try.

“I'll take Spork with me,” said Justin.

“All right. We'll meet you at school.”