Last Days Read Online Free PDF

movies.’
    ‘It’s been done seven times before. But they’re all about the cult murders and police procedure. No one has done the paranormal angle. That’s where we come in. Just like on Blood Frenzy . Three countries. Six locations. Eleven days. We go, we shoot.’
    ‘Eleven days! That’s tight, Kyle.’
    ‘It is, but not impossible. His schedule is pretty impressive.
    Very professional. If this was our next film, we’d be doing it on a grand in half that time. We’ll still need a month to sleep it off, but we’ll be able to afford to. Did I mention the one hundred grand yet?’
    Refusing to film weddings, christenings, or any more corporate training films with Dan, he was making enough for food with tape library work in Soho, the odd freelance PA gig at live shoots, and periodic agency work. Most recently the packing of mobile phones into boxes in a warehouse in Wembley, peopled with genial Baptists from Ghana, illegal immigrants, and young Asian guys with expensive phones, on which they talked relentlessly about their DJ and record-producing ‘projects’. Everyone these days had a fucking project. One week of nights in the warehouse of broken dreams had filled him with a despair as tangible as the mumps. But this was a total revival of his fortunes as a guerrilla documentary film-maker.
    There was a long silence between Kyle and Dan; nothing but the sound of one man who breathed heavily, and another 31
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    who held his breath. ‘You’re messing with me, Kyle. Don’t, please.’
    ‘I’m not that cruel. God I need this. Guardian angels, thank you.’ As well as debt from his films, he was three months in arrears on rent, and had paid the previous five months on a credit card; he was also due in magistrates court for unpaid council tax; and a third party agency was threatening the end of his gas and electricity supply after eighteen months of his bills going unpaid. These days, he was just amazed every morning when the lights came on. But one hundred grand !
    He’d never spent more than ten on a film. The last one cost him and Dan six to make, and they’d lived in a tent near the shoots. If they were able to make another film together, they’d need to bring it in for under two grand. But not now. One hundred Gs split three ways. He’d be even. Back in black.
    Dan was infected too because his voice trembled. ‘Same deal as Coven and Blood Frenzy on crew?’
    ‘Absolutely. I’m the driver, production manager, PA, director, writer, associate producer, second camera when needed, and catering. You’re first assistant director, director of photography, lighting, make-up, and first choice of bed.
    We share the sound and the running. Mouse is the technical editor. I gotta call him now.’
    Kyle had never seen Finger Mouse out of his chair, the computer mouse permanently under one hand, constantly being clicked as he spoke, if he spoke. It was said that Finger Mouse hadn’t left his Streatham basement flat in a decade, or owned more than two shirts; his great beard, reminiscent of a Confederate general from the American civil war and his milky-green complexion, attested to the rumour. Sunlight could take him out of the game. He never even went to prem -
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    iers of the films he’d edited. And for most of each day and night of every month spent on a final edit, Kyle only ever talked to the side of Finger Mouse’s head. Collectively, he’d spent an entire year of his life in the Mouse’s edit suite, but he struggled to visualize the editor’s face beyond his profile.
    Finger Mouse would die in his chair. But not before this film is done, eh.
    The three of them rarely remarked on each other’s personality disorders because it was too uncomfortable to do so, but Dan anxiety ate and was technically anal about cameras and lights; Kyle planned and counted pennies to neurosis; Finger Mouse cut images in an existence measured entirely in twenty-four frames per second. It was why they were