THIRTY-ONE
“Friends,” Dexter said and held both arms out to silence the crowd which he held well and truly in both hands. “It’s almost time...” He seemed to let that sink in for a moment and even from where he was waiting, Ross could almost feel the sense of anticipation from the crowd wash over the host like radiation from a cracked fusion reactor.
“To introduce the star of our show,” Dexter finally added with sombre gravitas.
Dexter looked back over his shoulder to the vague outline of the house someway behind him, just on the very edge of the light like a grey shadow against the night sky.
He spun back to the crowd. “What is this strange creature that fascinates and scares us so? Where does it come from? And what sick and devious mind dreamed it into reality, making nightmare flesh?”
Up in the production booth Davis’ eyes narrowed as he watched through the observation window. Dexter was off his mark, he was a little closer to the back of the stage than usual. He could sense more than hear Miller the director whispering improvised directions to the camera crews below.
Dexter stepped off the back of the low stage and onto the grass.
“Fuck, fuck!” Miller cursed. “Jack, stay with him. Clara, keep the follow spot on him, but for Christ sake don’t light the house, that’ll ruin the whole effect.
Lucky as he glanced at the monitor showing the live feed, Davis could see that both the cameraman who was framing the shot and the technician on the follow spot here experts at their jobs. Dexter was in full frame shot from a high angle so as not to show too much of what was behind him but lit just enough to maintain the atmosphere.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Davis breathed as Dexter took another couple of steps back.
A ripple of uneasy chatter ran through the transfixed crowd.
“Stay with him,” Miller whispered into his mic. “That’s it no tighter, wicked shot. Flood lights get ready to light up the house on his cue.”
Dexter lifted his face up to the surrounding crowd who as one gazed on like loving disciples, hanging on his every syllable. “You know, people ask me if Mister Minx is real? And I’m sure there are even those amongst the crowd here tonight and the countless thousands watching at home who doubt his existence.”
Dexter smiled wryly and shook his head. “They think this is all just some elaborate magic show.” He let his head bow until his chin was almost touching his chest.
A beat then he added softly. “Shall we see?”
“Behold!!” He shouted and the flood lights hit the house from two sides to reveal it in all its theatrical nightmarish glory.
“YEEESSS!!” The crowd screamed in unison. The word stretched out to the very limits of their breath until after an age it slowly died down and hot on its heels a chant began.
Starting in low with just a few voices at first but soon it grew into a crescendo of adulation. Two words over and over, louder and louder. “Mister Minx, Mister Minx.”
The live feed cut to the remote cameras in the house, switching from one to the other looking for the creature.
This played out on the main screen above the arena, much to the delight of the assembled masses.
“C’mon,” Miller hissed through his teeth as he studied the shots. “Where is the little shit?” He tapped a button on his console which cut between the cameras inside the house.
“He’s in there,” Davis assured him.
Then a dark shape flitted past the screen and was gone by the time the remote camera whip panned to try catch it again.
The crowd outside fair shrieked at the brief appearance. And continued chanting their hero’s name.
Davis had been so wrapped up in the action on screen and the crowd’s perfect reaction that he lost track of what Dexter was doing. He looked back out of the window and down into the field below and nearly cried out in horror.
“What the hell is he doing?” Davis uttered.
Miller glanced at his boss then at one of the other camera shots. “Christ, cut to camera three!” He tapped the controls and the shot of Dexter came onto the screen. “Stay with him, stay with him, pull out a bit so you get the house in shot as well.”
Dexter was within fifteen feet of the house’s rickety off kilter front porch now, way closer than he had ever been before.
Seeing the shot of Dexter sauntering towards the house on the main screen, the crowd hushed somewhat. It was clear Dexter sensed this as he smiled to himself and then spun on his heal to face them once more.
He was now at the very edge of the porch steps. “Shall we pay Mister Minx a visit before we start the show?”
Davis felt the sweat freeze on his skin. “You fucking idiot,” he breathed. “I hope he fucking drags you inside.” The thought actually made him smile. How about that for a ratings winner?
Outside the crowd was baying its approval so Dexter turned and theatrically placed his foot on the porch. He paused like a soldier stepping into a mine field then as if satisficed he wasn’t going to lose a leg, he took another step so he was now standing with both feet on the porch. He bounced up and down testing its strength.
Miller cut to a camera above the door facing outwards and Davis got the satisfaction of seeing a flash of doubt cross the host’s powdered face as he glanced at the door ahead of him.
The noise from the crowd dropped to one of hushed anticipation as he took another step, then another up the creaking porch and over towards the closed front door.
“Mister Minx?” Dexter taunted in a high voice. “Oh Mister Minx are you there?”
Dexter’s foot caught something and he looked down to see a row of charms nailed across the bottom of the door. He tentatively towed one with the tip of an expensive Italian shoe.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Someone said behind Davis. “Did you know he was going to do this?”
Davis shook his head but couldn’t take his eyes off the figure by the door.
The camera zoomed in on the charms as Dexter gently kicked one again.
“No, no, no,” Davis whispered terrified now. Didn’t the idiot know what he was toying with? He felt the sudden urge to tell Miller to cut the feed. His mind desperately searched for an excuse to re-set the whole event.
Maybe he could blame technical difficulties, anything to stop the fool meddling with forces he didn’t understand. Powerful magic that was the only thing keeping Minx trapped inside that house.
It would be scant consolation seeing Dexter torn to shreds if Minx got out. Because Davis knew there would be only one direction Minx would go in, full tilt. His direction.
At this he glanced behind him and was reassured somewhat to see Nico Gorodetsky standing at the back of the production office, arms folded quietly watching proceedings. The Russian caught Davis’ gaze and nodded slightly.
Back at the house Dexter ran his foot over the charms and then made his way almost on tip-toes over to the window at the side of the front door. Where he ran a hand now over the charms nailed to the frame.
Dexter looked over his shoulder to crowd and camera alike. “What say you we take these off and let our friend stretch his legs a little?” He ran his hands over the charms again.
A ripple of nervous laughter swept through the crowd.
Davis nearly pissed his trousers as he thought he saw one of the charms move under Dexter’s light touch.
“Stop him,” Davis found himself saying. “This is enough, stop the show. Cut to commercial or whatever the hell it is you do.” He was aware of the audible fear in his voice.
“Nar, this is gold,” Miller said and cut to a panning shot of the transfixed audience.
“I said...” Davis snapped and turned to Miller. He stopped mid-sentence. Everyone in the room was staring at him open mouthed. He had always carried himself with an air of confidence around the production crew, who all knew it was he who was in charge. They had clearly never seen even the hint of weakness in him before and it had stunned them.
“It’s okay Boss,” his ever present assistant Tiff said meekly. She took an uneasy step towards him but thought better of it as he turned to look at her. It was clear from the shock on her face and the way she clutched her IPad to her chest that his eyes, like his voice, betrayed his growing fear.
“It’s all part of the show, right?” Tiff added uncertainly.
“Christ, now what’s he doing?” Miller said.
Everyone looked to the main monitor. Dexter was peering in through the grubby glass of the window. He cupped his hands around his eyes to get a better look.
Some people in the crowd were actually standing as if trying to get a better view.
“Mister...” Dexter suddenly leapt back with an undignified yelp (which the crowd instantly mirrored) as Minx’s twisted face slammed into the (thankfully) reinforced glass of the window right in front of him.
Much to his credit, Dex Dexter resisted fleeing the porch for the relative safety of the stage but instead, ever the professional, turned to the crowd and clasped his right hand over his heart with all the exaggeration of as silent horror movie star. “Mother!” He said.
The crowd erupted into shrieks of relieved laughter and began to rapidly applaud.
“Fuckwit,” Davis said and could feel the vein in his temple throbbing alarmingly. He glanced at the main monitor but instantly looked away, Mister Minx’s face leered out through the dirty window as if it was feeding on the sheer energy coming off the crowd.
The shot played out of the large screen in the arena as it did in countless homes across the globe.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you. Mister Minx!” Dexter announced with a wave of the hand back to the house.
“Mister Minx, Mister Minx!” the crowd was in rapture.
And despite everything Davis had to admit this was the best opening to a show ever, even if his reputation with the crew as a hard ass had taken a hit.
As if to compensate he barked; “Okay, okay, stop gawping, we have a show to run. Get the priest in position. Let’s get this thing moving!”
He took a little satisfaction from the startled look on the faces of those around him as they snapped to attention and began hurrying around to prepare for the main event.