Free Scarlet Thunder by Sigmund Brouwer

him, “is that you’re finished. That this whole film thing is over. That you should get out, now.”
    She took a deep breath. “But I long ago promised myself to fight my temper. So I’ll say this instead...”
    We waited as she chose her words. Her blue eyes flashed.
    â€œThis interview is over. I want time to cool down. And I’ll give you some time to clear yourself. But if you can’t prove to me that I shouldn’t blame you for this, I’ll have to ask you to pack up.”

chapter sixteen
    Alone in Uncle Mike’s motor home, I sat facing the television and playback unit. I had expected to spend part of the morning reviewing the film from my handheld camera. But I was too depressed. I set it aside without bothering to look at any of it.
    I had worked hours and hours, wandering around and filming by myself because I had believed this would be my first chance to get credit on a big project. Instead, it looked likeall of those hours of film were going to be a wasted effort.
    It didn’t even help when I reminded myself how much worse it was for Uncle Mike. Through the window, I watched him pace around outside with his cell phone. He was too upset to sit still as he called Hollywood. I knew he was trying to sell his script. He couldn’t figure out how to prove who had spoken with the press. He fully expected Sandy to call off the shoot. Without Sandy’s agreement to film, there was no way he could make his deadline. Uncle Mike needed to sell his script for as much money as he could, even though he would lose ownership control of one of the hottest projects in Hollywood.
    I had merely lost all those hours of filming. Uncle Mike had lost more than a million dollars. And all because of a series of dumb things that had happened since the beginning of the shoot. Or even before the shoot, if I counted how much time we lost because of Junior Louis and the mice.
    I stared at the blank television screen.
    I was thinking too much. I didn’t want to think. And the best way to not work your brain is to watch television.
    So I grabbed the remote from beside me and clicked it on. I began to flick through channels. Uncle Mike had rented a motor home with a satellite dish. There were a lot of channels.
    I saw a
Bugs Bunny
cartoon.
    Great, I told myself, now even television wasn’t letting me escape.
Bugs Bunny
reminded me of the cartoon where the elephant was scared of a mouse. And that, of course, reminded me of Junior Louis all over again. I even remembered telling the trainer about the cartoon and mice and—
    Stop! I thought. What else did the trainer say that morning?
    I closed my eyes and frowned, thinking as hard as I could. I pictured myself standing beside the elephant. I imagined how it smelled. I listened hard to my voice in my memory. And then I remembered exactly how the conversation had gone.
    What about mice? Does Junior Louis get excited about mice? You know, like in the old
Bugs Bunny
cartoon?
    Those had been my questions. The trainer had laughed.
    I’ve seen that cartoon too, he’d said. It’s funny, you’re the second person to ask me that today.
    I repeated that phrase in my mind: It’s funny, you’re the second person to ask me that today. I snapped off the television and stared at the blank screen again. I thought hard. What if that first person had asked for a reason? Like to find out if mice really would bother Junior Louis. Like to find out if it would be worthwhile to put mice in the cooler.
    I needed to find a telephone and call the trainer. He would be easy to reach—I knew he worked with the elephants at the San Diego Zoo. But Uncle Mike was using his cell phone. And I’d forgotten to charge mine. It was dead.
    I needed to find a pay phone. Except the nearest pay phone I could remember was inthe stands. Across the track. I thought hard about whether there was a closer one.
    Then it hit me. Tim Becker had a phone in his