THIRTY-FIVE
Not whilst Michael Davis lived. That was a fact Davis himself knew all too well.
Everyone in the control room was staring open mouthed at the live feed playing out on the large monitor in front of Miller the director. It was a slow zoom in to Minx prone on the floor. This was the clearest and longest shot ever of the creature on the show. And it was not a good one.
“He’s beaten him,” Tiff whispered almost in awe from behind Davis.
But Davis knew better, Minx would soon regain its strength. Self-loathing was a powerful catalyst, and Minx had enough of that to burn.
Yes and he knew when that emotion kicked in, it would soon give way to hate, then to cruelty and finally to a red, red rage. And when it did, and with Davis so tantalisingly out of reach, there would be only one place for all that power to go. Father Shane Ross.
“Give him time,” Davis said with the confidence of a man who had read this particular script before. “Give him time.”
He was already concocting a plan in his head to explain away why for the first time ever on demon time. A priest had actually died.
Davis took a look at the other smaller monitors showing the non-live camera shots. The crowd were almost hypnotized by the drama they were witnessing. Many were actually on their feet, some clinging to others in dreaded anticipation of what was to come. And yes, some were actually weeping.
Miller, ever the masterful live director cut to a panning shot of the crowd. It zoomed in on a young couple, perhaps just in their twenties. They were both openly crying.
“Fucking beautiful,” Davis said to himself. The only sour note was that they were both wearing one of those unofficial ‘Mister Minx Army’ t-shirts. Still it was a pretty cool design Davis mused; a black and white sketch of the creature done in minimalist broad powerful strokes, with the Mister Minx army logo in blood red.
He would rip that off for sure in readiness for the next show.
“What are you?” Ross asked as Minx slowly pushed itself up from the floor and slumped down in a sitting position, its head bowed, bloody tears drip, drip dripping onto the wood floor boards by its knees.
“A figment of someone’s imagination,” Minx replied softly.
“But whose?”
Minx shrugged its bony shoulders, but didn’t raise its head as if it were ashamed to face the priest. “All I know is why I was created, not by whom.”
It was such a wretched sight that Ross found himself feeling sorry for the creature. Even a little guilty for nearly caving its skull in. He had expected mind games, he had expected violence even, but he had not expected this.
Again that damn whirring as the cameras around them panned and tilted for the best shot. Intruding on the unfortunate creature’s grief with an indecent disregard, like news crews swarming around a school bus crash.
Then before he even felt it creeping up on him, Ross suddenly flew into a blind rage. He grabbed a hold of a nearby coffee table and smashed it repeatedly against the floor until one of its legs splintered off. He tossed the table aside and scooped up the leg. He felt the satisfying weight of it in his hand. Yes that would do nicely.
Minx looked up at Ross as the priest loomed over it. It held its face up, willing the blow to split its skull in half whilst still knowing even if it was beaten to a pulp it would heal in time.
But Ross wheeled away and smashed the camera closest to him, then he leapt up and smashed the one attached over the window looking down on them. This left just one attached up in a corner where the wall met the ceiling by the side of the door.
Ross strode over to it making sure it had a good view as he approached. He raised the table leg above his head and paused for a moment. He knew it was a cliché but he said it all the same.
“Show’s over,” then he threw the leg at the camera. It was a sweet shot smashing the lens first time.
“Oh, you bastard!” Miller said in the control room as he switched from one dead camera to the next. “What do I do? What do I do?” He babbled. Then his professionalism kicked in an instant later. He cut to a shot from above the front door looking down the long hallway to the closed door of the room Minx and the priest were in. He tapped a couple of keys and the shot began a very slow dramatic zoom into the doorway.
“Perfect,” Davis said. If he was honest he was surprised that none of the other priests before Ross had thought to do that just to fuck with the show. Although to be fair, Minx could be quite distracting when it was in full flight.
“Where’s Keeler?” Someone said referring to the show’s head gaffer. The one who would normally be charged with fixing the cameras in there.
“Keeler quit, remember?” Someone else replied.
Davis glanced at Nico who actually smiled at this. Keeler had been bludgeoned to death the other day whilst in the house and Davis had almost forgotten the story they had concocted to explain away his sudden departure from the show.
“Don’t worry,” Miller said. “We can make this work. Just look at the crowd, they’re lapping it up.”
It was true, a good two hundred or more of them, the real hardcore fans of the show were now on their feet eyes fixed on the massive screen.
Tiff came to Davis’ side. “Boss, Dex wants to know if he should go up there and say something whilst we figure out what we’re gonna do?”
During the show and much to his chagrin, Dexter was relegated to underneath the main stand where he had to wait for the priest to come careering out of the front door before he could get back in front of his beloved cameras for the exit interview.
“This is what we are going to do,” Davis replied. “That ham just wants to get in on the action. He’s no fool, he knows this is history right here. Tell him to stay put and out of the way until I tell him to move.”
“Okay, Boss,” Tiff said. She was about to move off when she glanced at her IPad. “God’s teeth!” She exclaimed.
Davis reluctantly looked away from the observation window. “What?” He said.
Tiff showed him the IPad screen. It was showing live viewing figures. “Just leapt up ten thousand in the last five minutes!”
God bless social media, Davis thought. Yes this was going to be a night he would never forget.