by Curt F
Angela Morgan felt the ground give way beneath her and suddenly she was falling. She screamed, more from surprise than from fright, and landed hard on the ground some ten feet below.
She tried to gather her wits, forcing her spinning gaze to focus in the darkness. Her leg was throbbing with pain, though she suspected that her ankle was merely twisted and not broken. She felt dizzy and out of breath as she tried to gasp for air and struggle to her feet. Something growled in the shadows, and Angela squealed to see those shadows shift and move.
There was something there, something with her in the pit that she had fallen into. It was dark and sleek with great white teeth and glowing eyes of amber. Angela gasped to see one of the great jungle cats step into the thin shaft of light filtering down from above, illuminating the center of the pit. Angela scrambled back, trying to get away and slumped up against the walls of the pit with nowhere to go. She strained at her bonds, the thin cotton cord that held her wrists and hands behind her back. Fear ran up her spine, causing her to shake and shiver, tears welling in her eyes as panic gripped her heart.
Angela saw the great black cat lick its muzzle as it eyed her hungrily. Angela saw its muscles tense, and screamed as it leaped…
Angela Morgan rolled to the side, falling to the cold, packed earth as the beast pounced. Fear and instinct prodded her to kick out, an instinct for survival more than any skill. Pain ran up her legs as her heels rammed into the cat's chest and throat. It yowled in a pain of its own as it spun in midair and slammed against the wall of the pit before bouncing away again, scrambling back into the shadows.
The panther snarled, licking its muzzle as it shook its head. Eyeing her suspiciously, the beast began to pace, back and forth, left and right. She had stunned it, more than hurt it Angela suspected, and it would be upon her again within seconds.
Angela struggled to rise, pressing against the wall of the pit as she inched her way back to her feet. Her leg was throbbing worse now than before, and sweat poured from her, matting her hair and stinging her eyes. She was terrified, watching as the great cat padded the pit, prowling. Her wrists twisted and turned in the confines of her bonds. Her fingers danced over the knots in the ropes, tugging and pulling at any stray thread that might set her free. She had to get out, get away before the panther sprang to attack again.
"Angela!"
She heard the voice calling her name, and cautiously Angela shifted her gaze to the lip of the pit above. She tried to call out, but her voice caught in her throat. Even that slight noise caused the black panther to snarl and hunker. She slumped against the wall again with a gasp as it crouched in the darkness, ready to strike—
Something came crashing down into the pit, causing Angela and the panther both to scream in surprise. Angela staggered away, hugging the wall as she stared at the huge stone that had been thrown from above and was suddenly imbedded in the dirt at her feet. She chanced a glance up again, as the panther began its frantic pace once more, now seeming more frenzied and trapped. Angela gasped to see Harkins standing at the edge of the pit, watching. Jimmy Barton was there as well, and Harkins was whispering something in his ear, his hand on the boy's shoulder. Jimmy was cranking furiously at his camera, and Angela suddenly realized that they were filming what might well be the last moments of her life. She screamed for help—
A loop of rope dropped down into the pit, encircling Angela about the shoulders as she staggered, keeping away from the cat. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she wondered what new terror this was going to be when the lasso tightened about her, pressing into her breasts and squeezing the breath out of her lungs. She did not have time to think as she was suddenly hoisted off of her feet and into the air. She saw the cat leap at her as hands snaked under her armpits and powerful arms quickly hefted her up and out of the pit. She felt the panther's claws as the beast swatted at her feet, and she swiftly swung her legs out of the hole and out of reach.
Angela slammed onto the ground, the breath driven from her even as she tried to scream once more and scramble away. Shadowy forms hovered above her in the waning light, reaching for her as hands pawed at her body. She felt the lasso being lifted over her head, and someone was undoing the knots that held her wrists as a familiar voice clucked at her with concern—
"Engel! Are you all right!"
She stared blankly, numbness draping over her like a blanket as she realized just how close to death she had been. Someone was pulling at her, trying to drag her away from the pit as voices shouted about her, raised in anxiety. As through a fog she saw Karl settling her back against a tree. He wrapped a blanket about her shoulders, hugging her to keep her warm. She was going into shock.
Angela saw Harkins directing Jimmy back and away from the edge of the pit as two burly men with guns strode forward. It was De Grassi and Trent, two of the company stagehands that had come along on the shoot. She watched as the men leveled rifles at the beast, still trapped in the pit, but she heard Harkins shouting at them, ordering them to wait. Jimmy was still filming—
The panther sprang from the pit, and Angela screamed along with almost everyone else. Harkins scrambled back and away as De Grassi fell under the cat's swift, sudden attack. His gun flew from his hands as he collapsed under the panther's weight, sharp claws ripping at his flesh. Trent screamed, backing up and waving his own rifle about as he tried to get a bead on the creature that would not also hit his friend. Angela heard Jennifer and Kathy screeching in the background; all the women were hysterical. De Grassi's shrill cries rose above all the others however, as the cat clawed and bit at the struggling stagehand.
Angela heard the report of a gun just as Karl stepped between her and the grisly scene. There was a shrill cry of agony, then more screams of terror and Angela saw a fleet, dark shadow disappear, lunging into the jungle brush. There was much confusion then, screaming and shouting, and everything seemed to be spiraling into a flurry of motion. Angela felt her head grow light, and then her vision grayed…
"I say we get out."
Jonathan Harkins bit down on his cigar, trying his best not to grind his teeth in aggravation. He was standing with his back to the group, that select few that he had gathered that he actually listened to concerning the filming of the movie. He stared out through the mosquito netting covering the flap of the meal tent where they were meeting. Beyond, the jungle was dark and mysterious as usual, but alive with noise and life just hidden out of sight. He could hear the low rumble of the river and falls not so far away, and if he strained, occasionally he could hear the tortured mewling of the panther, off somewhere in the darkness licking its wounds.
"Mein Gott, Jonathan! Someone is trying to kill us!"
Harkins turned, leveling a steely gaze at the stunt master. Karl Braun was sitting on one of the small canvas stools scattered about the tent, returning the director's stare without flinching. He was wringing wet with sweat staining his shirt and running down his face. Just looking at the older man made Harkins aware of the perspiration running down his own back. The humidity was high, and the air was thick and moist, just a heartbeat away from rain that would never seem to come. The old man took a drag off of his cigarette, grimacing at the taste as blue smoke billowed about him.
"Karl. I think that if someone – some indigenous native was trying to kill us…well…I hazard to guess that we'd all be dead by now. 'Gott' knows they've had every opportunity to do so." Harkins smirked, but Karl Braun was apparently not amused by his mocking little joke. "That pit was probably left over from some tribe that's long since moved on. That cat probably just stumbled into it some time ago, and poor Angela stumbled in after. Coincidence-"
"It was covered up, Jonathan. Angela said that she didn't see it at all." Braun took another drag from his cigarette, then dropped it into the dirt and crushed it out under the toe of his boot. "And what about the markers? I walked that trail myself, marking it off for Angela's run. The markers were changed."
"Karl…" Harkins shook his head, smiling as warmly as he could. "Karl. I think you must be mistaken. You are getting old, my friend, and even I admit that after a few days in this hell, it all starts looking alike. You must have placed the markers wrong, or maybe Angela simply got confused. I like her too, but she's not perfect."
Harkins saw Braun's skin redden as angered swelled within him. The older man started to rise, and the director considered for a moment that he might have said too much, but before he could apologize, John Thomas was on his feet between the two men. The assistant director placed a hand on the stunt coordinator's shoulder, holding him down and in place, but turned his attention on Harkins.
"It's your final decision of course, Jonathan, but you have to consider all of this. The markers, the pitfall, our food stores spoiling a few days ago and the animals wrecking the camp. There were those arrows shot at Gloria and Angela too, that no one could account for. Now we have a wounded animal prowling about the vicinity, and Bill De Grassi hurt. Thank God he wasn't injured beyond Kathy's abilities to mend – or even killed. What about that?"
Harkins turned to Kathy Parker, the crew nurse and looked at her expectantly. Kathy shrugged—
"Bill will live. He won't be carrying anything for awhile, but I cleaned the wounds and stitched them up. They looked worse than they really were."
"See?" Harkins waved his arms about, trying to prove his point. "We're fine. I have men out looking for that cat, and I'm sure that it'll be dead before we're done in here even."
"And what about Gloria?" Joseph Hunt stood up and drew the attention of all in the tent. He had remained silent at first, a trait he was used to as senior cameraman, but apparently he could no longer remain silent. "Gloria's still out there somewhere, maybe hurt or lost. What are we gonna do about her?"
Harkins smirked, biting down on his cigar again. "Gloria is fine. I've known her far longer than some of our crew has been alive, and I know when our star is off having a tantrum." Jonathan Harkins tried to sound sure of himself, but in reality, he was starting to have some doubts about the star of the picture himself. Gloria Swann had disappeared the day before, under strange circumstances that had left one of the film's extras with a bump on her head. Gloria had been bound and gagged and had still somehow managed to get away, if she had not been taken. Harkins had expected her back the next morning, her tirade at an end, but she had not materialized. Now he was starting to wonder. "Gloria will be back, rest assured – unscathed and bitchy as ever."
Harkins scanned the crowd, smiling his best smile. He still saw doubt, but the crew was teetering in his direction, even though he had really said nothing to explain away the strange occurrences. All except Braun, and he would vote with the majority in the end. They were so close to wrapping up that Harkins could almost taste it. He would be damned if they folded up camp now.
"Listen, we only have a handful of shots left. The plane should be here tomorrow, and we can get close-ups until it's ready, then shoot the scenes on the plateau if we have to. We're going to finish up here people, if I have to put on a wig and a dress and crank the bloody camera myself! If Gloria 'Miss High and Mighty' Swann deigns to rejoin us, all the better. But I will not lose this film! Is that-"
Gunshots split the night, setting the jungle to a frenzied life with noise. Monkeys screamed in a panic, and birds swarmed into the humid air, a dark swirling cloud passing before the waxing moon. All eyes turned towards the camp beyond the tent. Harkins could see others emerging from other tents to see what was happening, and he quickly pushed the thin netting aside and stepped outside as well.
Mosquitoes set upon him instantly, despite the foul-smelling oils that he and the rest smeared on their exposed skin every morning. Harkins ignored the biting insects and dashed across the compound, stopping alongside the Morgan girl and the three Amazon extras that had come out of their tent. Her eyes were still wide from her earlier encounter with the panther, but Harkins thought that she seemed a little better. Still, he noted the tremble in her voice when she spoke.
"Wh – Was that a gun?"
Jennifer Higgins placed a hand on Angela's shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. Her friend was still rattled, and rightly so. Jennifer thought that she might well be in a coma after going head on with a tiger. She admired Angela though, that she was up and ready to go already, if only a little worried. Jennifer imagined that that was why she was a stuntwoman. She had nerves of steel.
"Maybe it was thunder." Jennifer offered, though she really did not believe it. She had heard enough gunfire on enough movie serial sets of westerns to know the difference between a gunshot and a peal of thunder. She just hoped that the gunfire did not signal still more trouble.
"No!" Alice Simmons – one of the Amazon extras – said with some excitement as she pointed towards the trail leading into the jungle. "Look!"
Everyone stared to where she was pointing, and in a moment saw four shadows moving through the underbrush. Trent was first, walking ahead of the group looking filthy with dirt and slick with sweat. He was carrying three rifles, and soon enough it was apparent why. Following behind the stagehand was Jimmy Barton and Phil Turner the inside prop-man, the two men supporting the weight of the limp panther carcass between them. Even in the dim light outside of the compound Jennifer could see that the animal's sleek fur was lathered and slick with blood.
What caught her eye however was the fourth figure staggering along behind the three grinning men. They were obviously oblivious, beaming with pride over their kill, and only when the mystery person stumbled and fell with a crash behind them did they spin about in surprise, Barton and Turner actually dropping the big cat. Trent let two of the rifles he was carrying fall to the ground as he brought the third to bear before he realized what was going on. Like a mob, the crew surged forward, Jennifer swept along in its motion. Jennifer heard herself shouting—
"My god! It's Gloria!"
Angela Morgan stopped and took a swig of tepid water from her canteen. It was warm and brackish, but still quenched her thirst, and she was thankful that Kathy Parker had insisted that everyone carry their own water. She resealed the cap and stared up at the plateau, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. It was barely ten in the morning, but the sun was already blazing brightly, forcing her to squint. The air was not so thick with humidity however, and for that she was glad. It was still hot, and she was still sweating, but it was better than it had been the day before.
She turned her gaze to the plateau that loomed ahead, still over a mile away. It was impressive, though barely over a hundred feet high, still it rose almost like an anvil over the jungle. It was wide as well; wide enough to land an aeroplane on, apparently, as the entire camp, give or take a few members, were going to meet the biplane scheduled for use in the movie up on top.
A chill ran up and down Angela's spine as she recalled the upcoming stunt involving the biplane and the plateau, and her as well. From here on the jungle trail the plateau looked imposing. From above, dangling from a rope beneath the aeroplane, she could only imagine that it looked threatening at the very least.
"Penny for 'em."
Angela Smiled as Jennifer Higgins strolled up beside her. Like Angela, and almost everyone else, she was carrying a load of necessary movie equipment along the trail that the crew had to hike. It was over five miles from the falls to the plateau, most of it uphill, and in the sweltering heat of the jungle, it was almost like murder. Jennifer was dressed like most of the women, wearing denim pants, boots and a thick blouse. There had been a bit of an argument with Kathy Parker as most of the women had wanted to cut down the leggings of the slacks, but the nurse had been adamant that they should not expose their skin to the sun, or the insects, not to mention the strange and exotic plants that they would be tromping through along the trail. In the end Kathy had won out, and everyone was wrapped up against the sun, flora and fauna.
"Just thinking about the stunt, Jenny. In a few hours I'll be dangling from a rope up there some where."
"You're not scared?"
"Petrified! But that's why I make the big bucks." Angela elbowed her friend in the ribs and together they started off again, laughing. There were a couple dozen people in the line marching to the plateau, and only a few remained behind at the base camp where they had done most of the filming. Kathy was one of those, remaining behind to watch over Bill De Grassi who was still recovering from being mauled by the panther. Trent had stayed behind as well, with a few of the hands as well as two of the editors to help protect the camp- and Kathy and Bill – until the final shots were in the can. Angela suspected that Trent also wanted time to skin the cat that he had shot, saving them all.
Angela glanced up the trail as they hiked, the plateau coming closer with every step. She saw Harkins at the head of the group, surrounded by his entourage; Shirley Compton the script girl, John Thomas the assistant director, and Joseph Hunt, the senior cameraman. Karl was there as well, along with Carol Page, the make-up girl, going over something in the script. Gloria was up there too, though oddly she was marching along behind the rest. Stranger still, she was actually helping carry some of the equipment that had to be lugged from the base camp to the top of the plateau. Angela had thought that 'help' was one of those words stricken from Gloria's vocabulary.
When Gloria had come stumbling into the camp the night before, everyone had suspected the worst. Kathy had been on her in an instant however, and after a quick inspection had declared that Gloria was suffering from exposure to the sun and dehydration. The movie star had some scrapes and cuts, but Kathy Parker had said that they were 'superficial', and not life threatening. Everyone was elated of course, especially after what had happened to Bill De Grassi earlier in the day, but Gloria herself was almost comatose, and Kathy had prescribed that rest was her best bet at that point.
Gloria had slept the night away, while the stagehands started to load up the things needed to transport; lighting, cameras and film, special props. Come morning however, Gloria seemed alert and ready to move out with the rest of the crew. She was oddly silent, but that was a blessing really, as she was not complaining as usual. She had offered up some lame excuse of escaping her bonds and then getting lost for the time that she was missing, and everyone seemed to take her at her word, especially after what Harkins had said before. Most of the crew suspected that the entire ordeal was just one of Gloria's ploys to get attention, and Angela had to agree. Gloria had woken refreshed, taking up a load to carry and marching along the trail with the rest.
Angela stared daggers at Harkins, however. She could still see him standing on the edge of the pit, prompting Jimmy to continue filming while the great cat paced closer. Angela had been terrified, far worse than in any stunt she had ever done. Harkins had been ready to film her being mauled to death, and did not seem to even care. The film had to go on, apparently. He had not even apologized.
Angela's anger was pushed aside as a rattling, buzzing noise filled the sky. Almost as one the entire crew looked up and around, and one by one they began pointing towards the west above the treeline.
Like a great bird, the biplane swooped up above the trees, arching across the sky with an arrogant ease. It trailed smoke, and sputtered a bit as it banked, coming in from the sun, but still it looked magnificent, and was a firm reminder to all of civilization here in the wilds of the jungle.
Angela shielded her eyes as she watched the biplane swerve, rocking its wings for the crowd below. She could just make out the concentric circles on the midsection, and numbers stenciled onto the tail marking it as a British war machine. Angela knew however that it was owned by the studio, bought as surplus after the First World War and had been used in many films since. She had even met the pilot once, on the set of another picture. He was a happy, older man formerly of Britain's Royal Air Force named Sebastian Pitt. He was retired now, but apparently he had been a hero in World War One, owning several kills; enemy fighters shot down in dogfights. Now he flew free lance for the studios and did the occasional Air Circus when he had the time. Pitt had given her the grand tour of the plane – offering to take her up sometime though they had yet to get together on that – so she knew that the plane was a De Havilland DH 82, with a wingspan of almost thirty feet and a range of over two hundred and seventy-five miles. "A grand machine!" Pitt had proclaimed, and Angela was sure that he was right, though she had thought it skinny and looking a bit frail for her tastes.
She knew that Pitt was flying the plane from the rear seat, so the passenger she saw in the front seat had to be Adam Kaine. Adam was technically the male lead of the picture, though in truth the movie was all about Gloria. As such, Adam had not really been needed through most of the filming, as he only had a few scenes at the beginning and then again at the end, in the movie's exciting climax. Still, Harkins had wanted him here in South America for some authentic shots in and around the plane.
Adam Kaine waved at the marching crowd as the plane dove then swooped up again right overhead, just missing the tops of the trees. Adam was handsome enough, Angela supposed, with his bronze skin, wavy dark hair and steely gray eyes, but he was just as arrogant as Gloria Swann, if not more so. He always had a starlet on his arm in public, but the rumor mill in Hollywood more than once suggested that he preferred men, and all too often 'young' men. It had never been proven, of course, but it was enough to make Angela hate him. Unfortunately, most other women found him appealing, and Angela was forced to shake her head and march on as her friends cheered and waved at his passing.
Starting up the trail that wound along the sheer side of the plateau, and a few yards into the inclined hike, Angela glanced up to see Gloria still staring as the aeroplane made its final run for landing. A look of awe was plastered on Gloria's face, making her look simple and childlike. She followed the biplane in flight with her eyes until it disappeared over the summit of the plateau, then rushed ahead of the crew with an energy that made Angela think she might run all the way to the top. Despite her harrowing experience, and the injuries that she had sustained, Angela thought that Gloria seemed overly energetic. She was barely sweating in the heat, and not breathing hard at all. She had a few scars about her legs, but her skin seemed darkly tanned, unlike everyone else who was peeling already from recurring burns. If anything, she seemed in better shape than before she had disappeared two days before.
"Let's go, Morgan. It's getting hot out here."
Angela felt Martha Johnson's gentle push and realized that she had been lost in thought. She smiled at the Second Amazon, then shuffled her feet to get back into the rhythm of the walk, shouldering her pack and bags. Up ahead, Jennifer was waiting beside a large rock just a few feet away, and Gloria was almost out of sight around a bend in the trail. Angela glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun and sighed. There was still a long way to go…
Angela Morgan stood at the cliff's edge, staring out and down at the vast canopy of the jungle below. Far in the distance she could see where the river snaked its way through the trees, but the rest was like a huge, lumpy sheet of green stretching away to the pale, purple mountains to the west. The plateau had not looked quite so high from down below and even winding her way up the trail along its side it had not seemed too imposing. Standing atop the great, flat butte however, Angela was starting to wonder. It was not the height so much that bothered her, but falling from it.
She turned away from the ledge and paced back towards her mark for the stunt, barely one hundred feet away. It was a simple enough stunt, in theory, but in actuality it was possibly the most dangerous that she had ever attempted. There was so much that could go wrong. According to the script, she was to have run up the trail to the top of the plateau where the hero would pick her up and take her away to safety. The Amazons would be upon her, of course, and she would still be loosely bound as she signaled the aeroplane circling overhead. Adam – actually Sebastian – would then swoop down as the Amazons ran to catch her, firing their arrows and throwing spears. He would come in low, and Angela would have to grab onto the axle of the wheels and be carried off into the sky. Sebastian would then lower a ladder and she would climb into the waiting arms of her lover. Of course the final scene would be a close up of Gloria and Adam lip-locked as the screen faded to black, the plane flying off into the sunset.
Angela heard the biplane sputter to life and looked up as she reached her mark. Karl was at the plane, of course, checking the axle and adding strips of leather to give her a grip when she had to latch onto the plane. Sebastian was in the pilot's seat, going over his own check list, preparing the plane for the flight as he waved away Jimmy who had cranked the propeller to life. Angela had every confidence in Sebastian, and trusted that he would fly the biplane at the proper level for her to grab hold without cutting her to ribbons in the propeller. He was a barn stormer and a crop duster, a decorated World War One veteran. He would not let her down.
Angela was surprised to see Gloria standing beside the plane again. Earlier she had almost run up the last bit of the trail to be on top of the plateau when the biplane had landed. When the rest of the cast and crew had reached the summit, Gloria was there at the plane, almost dancing about like a child in awestruck wonder, as though she had never seen an aeroplane before. She had bombarded Sebastian with questions, to the point where the pilot had had to go into the latrine to get away from the starlet. While the rest of the crew had set up a make-shift camp atop the plateau, she had hovered about the plane like a vulture, actually getting into the seats and playing with the controls, under Sebastian's guidance. She had even ignored Adam Kaine, in favor of the pilot. It was all very odd.
The biplane sputtered and coughed black smoke again, then started rolling forward as everyone backed away to give it room. Karl jogged towards her, occasionally glancing back as the De Havilland rolled towards the edge of the plateau, picking up speed. Harkins had one camera trained on the aeroplane throughout the takeoff and even through its practice runs. Sebastian would fly by twice at least, judging the distance and the wind, making sure that he had the approach down right, then if he was satisfied, he would give a thumb's up sign that Angela would return if she too was ready.
Everyone watched as the biplane rolled on, faster and faster. There was a tense moment as the plane reached the edge of the plateau and seemingly started to fall, disappearing below the ledge for a moment. Angela heard someone scream but a second later the aeroplane swooped up, up and away, arching towards the west, and the quickly setting sun. Sebastian rocked the great machine, arrogantly letting everyone know that all was fine.
"Show off…" Karl mumbled as he stepped up beside Angela, watching as Sebastian put the biplane into a long, graceful banking curve. Satisfied that the biplane was not going to crash, he turned his attention to Angela and began adjusting the ropes loosely tied about her wrists. He smiled, gazing into her eyes, looking for weakness.
"You are sure about this, Engel? Just say the word and I will tell Harkins that the stunt is too dangerous."
Angela tried to speak, swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'll be fine, Karl. I trust Sebastian. I trust you. What could go wrong?" Angela smiled as Karl tightened the knots on the ropes loosely dangling from her wrists. In the picture, she was almost free, the once tight bonds now trailing about a foot between her wrists. Karl had bound her with her trick rope, the hollowed out, break away bit so that she would have full movement when she was trying to climb aboard the biplane.
They both looked up as the biplane flew by just overhead. Karl ducked down, but Angela stood her ground, trembling as the wheels whipped by within reach. The backdraft of the plane almost bowled her over and she was forced to stagger a few steps to regain her footing. She stared after the plane, watching as it banked up and around, circling in a wide arch to make another pass.
"This is ridiculous! I am going to tell Harkins to call this off." Karl Braun started to turn away, to head back to where Harkins was positioning the Amazons for the shot. Angela grabbed his arm.
"No, Karl! I want to do this. Unless you think I can't."
Karl looked glumly at his apprentice, obviously struggling with his own inner demons. "You can. I know you can. It's just-"
"Then leave it be, Karl. I'll be fine."
Karl looked at her for a long moment, and Angela tried her best to smile, to hide the fear that was making her legs ice and had her heart hammering in her chest. Finally he hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.
"Be safe, my Engel."
"Always…"
Angela watched as Karl reluctantly turned and walked away. Angela felt totally alone then. Alone with her fear. She saw Jennifer and the rest of the Amazons flexing their bows and taking their marks; ready to start running when the cameras were called to action. Gloria was watching the plane as it circled, readying for its next approach. She and Adam were sitting near Harkins in their own canvas-backed chairs, watching as the crew scurried about at the director's orders. They seemed totally calm, like the eye in a storm, and why not? Neither had a thing to do until Harkins was ready for the final scene. Angela saw John Thomas as well, far off across the plateau with Joseph Hunt, manning camera two. It was their job to track Angela as she ran towards the cliff's edge, keeping her in frame as she dangled underneath the plane.
Angela was forced to duck down as the biplane roared past again, a little lower than before. Her long, dirty skirt swirled in its wake, her hair blowing madly, but she was glad for the wind. The vast, empty top of the plateau was arid and the rays of the sun seemed to bounce off its surface, doubling in intensity. Angela was sweating bullets and her already filthy clothes were wringing wet and smelling very badly. Carol Page had patted her down with dust and dirt to make her look authentic, and had been adamant that she not rewash her hair after she had rinsed out her shock of white the night before last again. Angela felt that her skin was crawling, and she just knew that she was ridden with lice and fleas, not to mention covered with mosquito bites.
She tried to focus on the task at hand, however, watching as Sebastian arched the plane around in the other direction, judging the speed of the wind and currents in the air. She tried not to think of the propeller slicing into her if he came in too low, or her missing the axle or worse, catching it wrong. If she did not get a good grip, she might fall to her death off of the plateau, or be dragged behind the speeding plane. She saw Sebastian waving at her, giving her the 'thumb's up' signal. He was ready. Without thinking, Angela returned the sign before she could chicken out.
She focused on the plane then, watching as it banked up and around, making for its final run. Hunt's camera would be running now, trained on her, but Harkins only wanted the sequence of her running, so it did not matter what she did until she started her stunt. Angela took deep breaths as she waited. The sun was pounding down on her, and her heart was thumping so loudly that it almost drowned out the roar of the plane. She gave a final glance to the crew, panning the crowd. Karl was closest, ready to run to her aid should she need it. Jennifer, Martha, Alice and the rest of the Amazons were braced to run, their cue when the biplane passed over them. Harkins was ready, his arm up and ready to cue her, but Karl had said to ignore the director this time. She would know best when it was time to start.
The plane pulled out of its curve, waggling a bit, then straitening out until it seemed to bear directly at her. It began its descent, and Angela tried to swallow, her mouth dry but a lump in her throat. She started to count, waiting until she could see Sebastian's face through the blur of the propeller, then she turned. She started to run…
Her breathing was raspy and labored. Her legs seemed heavy, as though she were running through molasses. All she could hear was the rattle of the plane getting closer and closer, and the echo of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She glanced back, praying that she did not trip and fall. Karl had cleared her path earlier that morning, sweeping and picking away any danger, but still...
The biplane was leveled out and closer than she might have hoped. Angela felt her heart rise up in her chest, trying to force its way out her throat but clogging there, making it harder to breathe. She heard someone shouting, off to the side and out of sight. An arrow drove into the ground several feet in front of her, then another spiraled away and out of sight over the cliff's edge. She had forgotten that the eight Amazons would be shooting at her. She willed herself to go on, faster, and chanced another glance over her shoulder—
Almost…
Angela raised her arms before her, ready to loop her right arm about the axle as Karl had told her. It would not be pretty, but editing would make her- Gloria, rather – look spectacular in the end. All she had to do was snap the trick rope apart and grab on, holding for dear life. That was all…
Almost…
Angela ran, glancing back, arms akimbo as she tugged at the loosely bound ropes encircling her wrists. She still wore the leather gloves that Karl had given her to hide her wounds from a few days past that had still not quite healed. Her muscles ached from fighting the river and the constant running. She had vivid memories of falling in the pit, the panther attacking her. She was battered and bruised, tired and hot but she pushed it all aside, running. Adrenaline spurred her forward. That and terror.
The propeller whipped her hair about and Angela stretched, groping blindly while she ducked, almost running sideways. Angela screamed as the plane's axle slammed into her funnybone. Pain shot through her body as tears welled in her eyes. She bit down on her cheek, gritting her teeth as she tried to ignore the pain. Angela looped her arm about the axle, gripping her wrist with her free hand to lock it in place. She staggered along, trying desperately to pace the much faster plane, racing it. She stumbled and fell, hanging on as a new pain ran through her arm. The axle was hot, and the leather grip that Karl had attached hurt and pulled at her skin. She felt her feet fall away beneath her, felt the gravel and dirt of the plateau eating through the soft leather of her boots as she was dragged along. She was in agony – crying – wanting to let go…
And suddenly she was flying…
Angela felt the ground vanish beneath her and suddenly she was kicking her feet in open air. She felt the wind whipping about her, jostling her about as she clung to the bottom of the plane for dear life. She could smell burning oil, feel the heat of the engine that roared and rattled in her ear. She opened her eyes, not even realizing that she had clenched them shut, fearful of what she might see, but afraid that she might miss the wildest ride of her life.
The world stretched out below her, rolling away to the horizon in soft waves, like an ocean. The sun sparkled brightly, high in the sky once more, its fierce heat just a bitter memory. The wind lashed at her, stinging the bare skin of her arms and legs, making her wince. She laughed, the painful tears now of joy as she gazed upon this great world in new light. She had flown in a plane before, but this was something totally new. It was as though she were free, like a bird, laughing at gravity as it tried to drag her back down to earth.
She was flying…
And all too soon it was over. From the corner of her eye, Angela saw the rope ladder drop down from above. It flapped and flailed in the wind, bouncing about and actually beating against her until Angela finally reached out and got a grip on the rope. She knew that the cameras were rolling, and Sebastian was waiting. She had to start climbing and finish the shot.
Angela hooked one of the wooden slats with her foot, pulling the ladder closer until both feet were resting on the wood. She took a firm grip on the rope and unhooked her arm from the axle, immediately groping for the ladder as she shifted her weight. Something snapped—
Angela gasped as one of the ropes holding the ladder together broke. The ladder swung sideways, off balance because of her sudden weight and caught in the grip of the wind. Angela struggled to hang on, trying to right herself as she groped blindly, trying to grab the axle once again. She stretched, whimpering, praying as her fingers brushed the leather wrappings about the hot metal. There was a sudden jerk—
And she was falling.
Angela screamed…
Will Angela survive her death-defying plunge? Read the next thrilling episode to find out…
© Curt F 2002