Chapter 27: CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Fenwick stood in front of the camera, even though he had told Creighton to take the script and shove it where the sun didn’t even want to venture. He tried to keep his voice low, as Creighton had suggested, but nothing seemed to satisfy the director. He tried different inflections, but Creighton told him to read the line the way it was meant to be read.

What did that mean? Fenwick sighed, almost ready to give up. He wanted to tell Creighton to shove it, if he knew so much about the part, maybe he should take it. He’d never do that, of course. Creighton’s acting was worse than his directing.

“Fenwick,” Creighton said, cigar bobbing in his mouth, “can’t you read a goddamn fucking simple line.”

“ ‘Let’s get out of here before they find us,’ ” Fenwick read.

“You’re not acting.”

“How am I supposed to say it?”

“I told you.”

“I work with special effects.”

“You keep telling me that,” Creighton said. “Right now you have Bill Tallard’s part. If I could raise him from the dead I would, but he is totally and completely... dead.”

Fenwick glanced at the script. “All right, I’ll try, but you got to cut me some slack.”

“All right... some.” He turned to the cameraman. “See if you can get something here, Wilson.”

Wilson indicated that he was ready with a thumb pointed up. He lifted the camera, focused on Fenwick and three other minor actors who would soon meet their end deep in the forest.

“ ‘Let’s get out of here before they find us,’ ” Fenwick said, following the script.

Harrison, dressed in an outfit that would have made Robin Hood proud, said, “ ‘What if they do? We have a chance to escape.’ ” He might have been reading from a school text book.

“ ‘They... they’ll...’ no... ‘We...’ ”

“Fuck you, Fenwick,” Creighton yelled, “you had it there. I thought that line was pretty good, and then you had to screw up the next line. Can’t you remember a few simple lines?”

“I told you...”

“I know. Special effects.”

“I thought I had it.”

“I don’t know why I let you back in here,” Creighton said. “I don’t believe in giving people too many second chances, but I thought you could handle it.” He tossed the script on the chair marked with his full name. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. Your part was small, but important.”

“Can I go?” Chester asked. He reached into his pocket, drew out something small, held it in his hand as if it were something precious he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Yeah... go. I’ll be in touch later.”

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Several Tereskàdians headed for the diner. They disappeared inside, single file.

“Something going on over there?” he asked

“I don’t care...” Creighton started, standing beside Fenwick.

More Tereskàdians were heading to the diner. Was it lunchtime? Fenwick didn’t think so since it was mid morning, and from what he had learned about these aliens, they ate their meals at the appropriate times. Breakfast was done, lunch still lay ahead.

“I’m going to take a look,” he said. He strode across the road to the diner. Something must have happened if so many aliens had nothing better to do than gather in the diner.

“Excuse me,” he said as he approached.

The Tereskàdians and whistling dragons stepped aside. Fenwick headed to the office, eyes questioning Alice as he walked past her. She said nothing.

Fenwick walked into the office, almost tripped over Colonel Westwood’s body. To his right, four aliens, four whistling dragons, male, female, two cubs.

“Chandrha?”

“That’s me,” the female said.

“What happened?”

“He attacked my daughter.”

“He’s a United States Air Force Colonel,” he said.

“Jesuschristonapogostick,” Creighton said, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Another body,” Fenwick said.

“Don’t touch him,” Chandrha said. “He’s full of poison.”

Creighton stepped back. “What are you going to do with him?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I have to get rid of the body.”

“You’re going to have to tell the man from the RCMP,” Fenwick said.

“I intend to do that.”

“What else can happen?” Fenwick said to no one in particular.

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