1923
The baby is crying. The whole crew is staring.
Cameras are rolling, so he’s safe for now. Clay picks up the pace, skirting the circle of apes. They wave their arms above their heads, threatening the fur-clad gal. Mocking her.
She screams and the baby’s wails rise in pitch.
Clay steadies the make-shift backpack that holds his child and heads up a steep hill. The woods are thick above. If he can reach them before the director stops the action, he’s sure he can flee undisturbed. He’s seen enough of this operation to know that these fellahs are working on the cheap. They won’t interrupt a decent shot just to stop a stranger fleeing with a baby.
His legs pump and he wants to scream.
He crashes into the woods.
“And…cut!”
----------Tim Kirk---------- 