Chapter 64
Evie
The Sequel
“Groovy.”
I stood with Sebastian as we sipped Red Bulls and waited patiently to step onto the set. We’d just gotten the fire safety speech and were watching as the professionals went around, lighting various props on fire. We chatted and pretended as if it were just another day.
“Tropical?” Sebastian tilted his blue can my way, and I lifted my yellow one.
“They’ve grown on me.”
“Yeah, I use it to manage my ADHD.” He shrugged.
“You have ADHD?”
“Who doesn’t?” He smirked. “I tried the meds when I was younger. Wasn’t a fan. I found ingesting a fuck-ton of caffeine does the trick.”
I wondered if that was why my brain felt so clear lately. My thoughts weren’t as jumbled. I’d grown fond of the caffeinated drinks.
“By the way, I learned something interesting. Dexter didn’t use a chainsaw. In the show, it was a reciprocating saw. No wonder there was so much...”
“Vomit?”
My stomach turned as the image of Sebastian waffle-stomping intestines into the drain while splashing both of our bile with each lift of his boot flashed in my memory.
“I guess we know for next time.” He cackled, and I looked up to see the edge of his lips twitching. He finished his drink and pushed off the wall, going over to Dante to chat. “I’ll see you later, Final Girl.”
I stared after him, my heart longing for words I couldn’t say.
Two figures pushing through a door just out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned. Fear slid down my spine as my eyes settled on two men in suits striding through, laughing and chatting excitedly.
Arthur Englund and Elliott Bradley.
What were they doing here?
Arthur saw me and nudged his friend. They stopped abruptly and turned my way. I stiffened and shoved down the nerves in my stomach.
“Well, there’s the Final Girl.” Arthur beamed.
Don’t call me that.
I fought back a snarl. “Hello,” I said politely.
“You’ve met Elliott Bradley.”
I shook my head and forced myself to take his hand when it was offered. “I’ve seen you around.” I studied him, looking for features that matched mine. I did this for each of the men on my list, and I was still no closer to the truth. I was my mother’s daughter through and through.
“Yes, same here. It’s nice to finally meet Lita Reyes’s most important legacy. I’ve heard only great things.”
There was a beat of silence where both men stared at me, giant smiles on their faces. It gave uncanny valley vibes, as if he were trying to appear human but wasn’t quite selling it. The idea made me uneasy.
“I should get back to it.” I tried to brush past them, but Arthur put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
“Where did you get that?” Arthur asked, pointing to the can in my hand.
“Craft services. Are we done here?” I snapped.
“We just wanted to see how you were feeling about the plan I laid out yesterday. Is this still going to happen?”
“It does this whenever it’s told,” I said bitterly.
They exchanged confused glances.
“What?” Elliott asked.
“I don’t think I have a choice, do I?”
Elliott shook his head grimly. “You don’t. Just do the shoot, and we can all go home.”
“Groovy.” I looked at my shoes, and they left, satisfied in their silent threats.
Once they were far enough away, I looked up. Sebastian was coming my way. He’d seen me talking to them. He raised an eyebrow, but I shook my head. We couldn’t talk about this now.
“Dante is calling for the gun safety meeting. Let’s go over.”
I followed him and listened to a speech that didn’t really matter. My gun, maybe Sebastian’s as well, were likely loaded with real bullets. We could kill each other today. Or, God willing, we’d both miss.
I couldn’t focus with Arthur and Elliott standing off to the side, watching us carefully. They wanted to make sure the job got done.
After our talk with the professionals, we were allowed on set to work on blocking without props. Dante was not a fan of guns in his films or on set at all, so he wanted to get it in one shot.
Which, if we did as asked, was all it would take.
Arthur and Elliott made sure to stay in view of me at all times.
No matter where I turned, I knew they were there.
Sebastian and I shot the hand-to-hand combat scene and then broke for lunch, during which I was finally able to get away from their intense gazes.
I grabbed my hoodie off my chair and ran to my trailer, and as soon as the door closed, I settled into a wonderful, much needed panic attack.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t even pretend.
This was bad. My pulse was rushing in my ears.
This was real fucking bad. If I didn’t shoot Sebastian, there was a chance he’d shoot me.
Intentionally or not. What if his finger slipped?
I paced until I dropped to the floor and started tugging at the roots of my hair.
I couldn’t do this. There had to be a better way.
There was a knock, and the door opened an inch.
“Cleaning!”
I wiped my face and stood, rubbing my head. “Right. Come in, Bambi.” I fell onto the couch as the woman who cleaned my trailer came in with her caddy and broom.
“How are you today, Evie?” she asked kindly, setting her equipment down on the table. “Sorry I’m here during your lunch hour. I got a little behind today.”
“You’re fine. I’m just stressed. I am so glad we’re wrapping today.”
She nodded, replying on auto. “I bet. It’s been a long shoot.” She usually had her headphones on as she cleaned, not one for pleasantries.
I let her do her thing and tried to relax. I went to my mini fridge by the table and bent down, grabbing a Red Bull. I stood back up and paused as my eyes settled on Bambi’s caddy.
“Hey, Bambi? I’m done in here,” I said, grabbing a small bottle of tablets from her bin.
Tossing my hoodie on and putting my yellow Red Bull back in the fridge, I left my trailer and returned to set, keeping the bottle in my hoodie pocket.
I rolled my eyes as I went to craft services and was flagged down by Elliott Bradley.
“Evie!”
I ducked my head into the fridge, grabbed a blueberry Red Bull, and opened it. He was a distance away, but not far enough. I only had a moment. I popped the tab and pulled the bottle from my pocket. Hopefully, my plan worked.
“Evie, did you not hear me?” Elliott raised his voice.
I turned and shut the fridge, hiding the bottle in my sleeve. “Sorry, what?” I smiled tightly.
He glanced with disgust at the drink in my hand. “Those are going to kill you.”
I took a deep breath and pretended to be calm while I cocked my head in confusion.
“The caffeine. Those are so bad for you.” He stared me down and his expression softened, and suddenly he reached out his hand. He stroked my cheek with his knuckle. “You look so much like her.”
I bit back a sharp word or two, but the look on my face must have broken his trance. He pulled back and cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. I just wanted to thank you for helping with this unfortunate matter. It’s so awkward having to drag more people in, but if we can get this stomped out...”
“Of course.” I nodded. “We wouldn’t want more accidents, would we?”
Just then, Dante caught sight of me. He’d been walking with Arthur, and they both turned our way. Dante rolled his eyes at the can in my hand.
“Let’s go. Take off the hoodie and toss the drink.”
“I just opened it!” I protested, excitement flooding my veins as everything was going as I’d hoped. I had to dial my emotions back. “I haven’t even taken a sip.”
“I don’t think they care about you wasting it.” Dante rolled his eyes.
I made a show of taking it to the garbage to toss, when Arthur came around from the other side.
“I’ll take it. I like blueberry. I thought you liked the yellow ones?”
I handed it to him. “They’re out,” I lied. There was an entire row of them.
Elliott clicked his tongue at his friend. “Those are going to kill you.”
I hurried off with Dante, tossing my hoodie onto my chair as I went, making sure the bottle I’d taken from Bambi’s cleaning caddy remained tucked inside it.
Back on set, I found Sebastian already in place.
I was handed my gun. My chest tightened as I felt the weight of the deadly weapon.
This was it. The prop master gave Sebastian his and then left the stage.
Dante yelled out, “Action!”
Sebastian and I locked gazes and slowly, in sync, raised our weapons.
“Is this how it ends, then?” he said his final line, and I smirked and shook my head for the camera.
“Simon says, motherfuck—”
I was cut off by a loud choking sound and screams from the crew.
We dropped our stances and turned, watching as Arthur collapsed, the energy drink in his hand spilling across the floor.
His face turned purple as he convulsed. I stared, a satisfied feeling seeping into my belly and soul as I watched the life leave his body—not one person jumped to help him.
Elliott was right.
Those energy drinks would kill him.