Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(81)

“Hey,” Nick says, “I had just had a great idea. Wouldn’t it be cool if the monkeys could talk? That way they could threaten the party guests. Write us some dialogue, Sean.”

“No. Absolutely not. Humanzees don’t talk.” Coop shakes his head.

“What about me?” Evelyn asks. “Shouldn’t I have some dialogue in this scene? Why am I at this party to begin with? What’s my motivation? Should I attempt to thwart the humanzee attack?”

“No. No. No.” Coop is looking panicky. “Don’t say anything. Nobody say anything. This is a key scene in the movie. It’s the very first outbreak. Nashira is there as a witness. So she can go back and report it to her brother. That’s all. Your motivation is to just take it in and be terrified.” He flips through his notebook. “Okay, now. I’m going to slip in the front door and head straight to the party. Acting all cazh. Like I’m there to partake in the festivities. Monkeys, I want you to sneak in the service entrance. Let’s hope you don’t run into anyone. It’s Sunday, so it shouldn’t be too busy. But anybody stops you, just say you’re a surprise for Rico Petrelli’s party.” He flips a page in the book. “Once you’re inside, don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t waste any time. Just find the party and rush right in, roaring as loud as you can, waving your hairy arms in the air. If you can manage it, try and chase the people toward the emergency exits.”

“And what are we doing while all this is going on?” Helen asks.

“You take a whack of still photos as the guests run outside,” Coop says. “As many as possible. Try to get people’s horrified expressions. We can edit those into the movie. It’ll make a cool effect. Like a running photographer’s record of the first outbreak or something. Evelyn and Val, you’ll come with me. Val will run camera while I direct. And Evelyn, we’ll get you to mingle in the party. Sit at one of the tables at the front if you can. Try to stay inconspicuous. We don’t want anyone to be suspicious. And Uncle Doug, you keep the getaway vehicle running in the parking lot with all the doors open, ready for us to make our escape.”

Uncle Doug raises his smoky joint. “Righty-oh.”

“Once we’ve got our shots,” Coop continues, “everyone get the hell back into the van, stat. No screwing around. We’ll have maybe a minute, two minutes max, where everyone’ll be too confused to know what the hell’s going on. But eventually someone’s going to call the cops, and we want to be long gone by the time they arrive.”

“You’re damn straight,” Uncle Doug chimes in. “I’ve got a pillowcase full of yerba maté in the boot of this bad boy. And I definitely don’t need the fuzz finding that.”





“HERE WE BE,” UNCLE DOUG SAYS, turning the van into the parking lot of the Elk Hills Country Club. The building looks sort of like a squat, elongated White House. It’s definitely high-class, for sure. And absolutely no place we should be going dressed up like feral monkey-men.

Uncle Doug drives around back to the service entrance, parks between two trucks, and lets the engine idle. I can’t stay in this smoke-and-fart-filled sardine can any longer, so I push past Coop, yank open the side door, and am the first to leap out.

I breathe as deep as I can through the golf ball–size hole at the back of my monkey-mouth. The fresh air — as fresh as it can be, filtered through the plastic of my mask — eases the nauseous feeling that churns my gut. Thank God. I thought I was going to lose it there for a moment. But I’m okay now. My head’s still swimming a bit, but I’m no longer at code orange.

I quickly scan the area. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around outside, so that’s good.

Coop, Matt, and Nick hop down from the van and huddle around me.

“Remember,” Coop says. “The louder and scarier you are, the more crazed the people will be and the more realistic it will seem. Really get into the roles you’re playing. Keep in mind the situation you’re in. You guys are pissed off because you’ve been turned into zombie-vampire-chimpanzees. And these people are having a freakin’ party. They don’t care. But you want to make them care. You want to infect the world so that everyone can feel your pain.”

Val, Helen, and Evelyn step out onto the pavement. Helen checks the settings on the DSLR while Evelyn slips on a chain-draped jacket.

“I just got this the other day,” Evelyn says. “I thought it looked like Nashira. What do you think?”

“It looks . . . great,” I say, wondering where she lifted it from. “Definitely Nashira-esque.”

Coop grabs the video camera and hands it to Valerie. “We’ve only got one shot at this, so let’s get it right.”

“As long as there are no big-boobed girls in the room to distract me”— Val smirks as she hoists the camera onto her shoulder —“I should be fine.”

Coop flashes her a screw-you smile, then turns to us. “Okay, humanzees.” He points to the service door. “Get going. Before someone sees you.”

“Wait a second. I almost forgot.” Helen grabs her purse from the backseat. She removes three dark-red capsules and hands one to each of us monkeys. “They’re filled with stage blood. You just bite down on them and the blood will spill from your mouth.”