Читать книгу Allied Zombies for Peace - Craig Nybo - Страница 29

Chapter 22

Eddie Pearlman looked through the viewfinder of his Bell and Howell 8mm camera and framed the ruckus that had broken out further down the parade route. Things had escalated so quickly that he didn’t know what to shoot. He had heard a pop—could have been a gunshot, could have been a firecracker, could have been a backfire—he had heard a few threats shouted back and forth between distant NRPL and the Vietnam vets, then all hell had broken loose. Eddie had no idea who had started the fight; but he knew it would look great on film.

He pulled the trigger on the camera’s pistol grip. The motor whirred, accompanied by the rhythmic click as the claw brought frame after frame of 8mm celluloid through the gate. With only 8 minutes of film, he would have to be judicious. He decided to grab a 6-second long shot, then he would try to get closer. He zoomed in as far as he could, extending the lens to its full 70mm focal length. He panned across the action, filming what he planned to edit into his final piece as an establishing shot of the expanding brawl. Just before he ended the pan and closed the shot, Dierdrie grabbed his elbow and yanked his camera off kilter. Eddie released the Bell and Howell’s trigger and whipped around to face his wife.

“Why you messin’ around with your little toy camera. Can’t you see what’s going on?” Dierdrie said, shooting Eddie her canned expression of censure, an expression that he had learned to despise.

“Dee, I only have eight minutes of film. You’ve just screwed up six seconds of it.”

Dee put her hands on her hips and cocked her head sideways. “You’re such a child.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip.

“Always in it for you, aren’t ya?”

Here it comes, Eddie thought.

“I’m getting out of here before one of those ugly undead things bites me.”

“I’m staying,” Eddie said.

“To film your little movie about your grandfather?”

Eddie gasped and thumbed over his shoulder at the unfolding violence. “Can’t you see that this is bigger than a documentary on my grandfather? I have a real opportunity here to capture something great.”

“You, you, you; it’s all about you; there you go again. What about me, your wife?”

“I can’t talk about it right now, Dee.”

“I’m getting out of this place right now. And if you’re not coming with me, you might as well not bother coming home at all. If I can’t count on you to do the responsible thing, protect me, your wife, then I shouldn’t have to put up with your pipe dreams, Eddie. Besides,” she straightened her hair, “I’ve still got my charms. If you want to know the truth of it—“

“—you could do a lot better than me, I know, you tell me that all the time,” Eddie said. “I’m staying here. If you want to go, go.” Eddie turned away from Dierdrie and walked toward where the Vietnam vets were brawling with the NRPL hippies.

“Eddie, I mean it,” Dierdrie shouted as he walked away, “I’m leaving, really leaving this time.”

Eddie flicked his hand in the air in a fine, whatever gesture.

Dierdrie Pearlman turned on her 2-inch heel and clocked away from her ignorant husband. She made it a half-dozen steps before she stopped and turned around. Eddie hadn’t slowed. He walked towards the fight with his camera slung over one shoulder.

Dierdrie swore under her breath and stamped on the pavement, both her hands clamped into fists. She looked over her shoulder towards the way out, then back at her husband. She straightened her hair, pulled her silk gloves tight onto her hands and followed him straight into the fight.