Читать книгу Allied Zombies for Peace - Craig Nybo - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Parade spectators smashed together along both sides of High Street, between International Plaza and Main. Fans of the parade reserved their spots earlier every year. Up to three days before Veterans Day folding chairs lined both sides of the parade route, stakes and ribbons posted to save the best spots. Families wanted front row seats, places where their children could swarm after thrown handfuls of salt-water taffy.

Eddy Pearlmen sat on a folding chair, his nearly new Bell and Howell Touch super-8 camera on his lap, its smart looking leather case sitting at his feet. The model was only two years old, but Eddy had picked it up at Thornbinge’s Pawnshop for just shy of eighty dollars: a steal. He nestled the unit in his arms, working the zoom lens, admiring its sleek, black body. He couldn’t wait to try it out and the Veteran’s Day Parade would be an excellent opportunity.

“How much did you blow on film?” Dierdre, his wife, asked, straightening her cat-rimmed sunglasses with one hand and smoothing her hair with the other.

“I don’t know how long my daddy’ll be around. I want to get some footage of him before it’s too late; he’s a war hero, you know.”

“So you’ve said a hundred times. I just don’t want you to break the bank buying film for that thing.”

Eddy ground his teeth and muttered under his breath. He wondered how much Dierdre had spent on the dress she had worn to the parade or on the cardigan that covered it.

“You’re not still dreaming about becoming a big director are you; you know we already have a Norman Jewison.” Dierdrie fixed him with her tart smile, the one that made the bile fulminate at the back of Eddie’s throat. Before they had married, she had planned to move to Los Angeles and become a famous actress. She resented Eddy for not getting her out of Grove City, Ohio. “All you want to make is those school films.”

“Documentary movies.”

“Whatever.”

Eddy sighed; he didn’t have the stomach for another argument. “I only bought two cartridges, that’ll get me about eight minutes of my daddy as he marches by.”

“That’ll be engaging.”

Eddy sat the camera despondently in his lap, folded his arms, and stared straight forward. I married her for her boobs, he thought, what can I expect?

Later, Eddie would wish that he had a lot more than 8 minutes of film; he had come early to get a front row seat to the parade, but he would soon learn that he might be first in line for a Pulitzer Prize.