AN: Here you go 2 chs. And I could use some Powerstones.
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Richard rested both hands on the steering wheel. "Understood. Earlier entrance, same pace."
The second close-up gave them the shot.
The roadroller entered frame at the right moment, the zombie performer clawed at the pavement, and the front drum nearly reached his legs before the shot cut away. Christopher watched the playback once, then approved it without asking for another take.
The crew moved fast after that.
Two stunt assistants lifted the actor from the road and replaced him with the silicone dummy. The effects team connected the blood tubes beneath the dummy's shirt, packed additional foam tissue around the ribs, and checked the hidden trigger that would burst the chest at the moment of impact.
Jack watched the setup closely from the monitor bank. The camera angle had to hide the dummy swap, keep the front drum centered, and catch the body collapsing beneath the machine without revealing any of the practical rigging.
The assistant director called for quiet again as the roadroller returned to its starting mark.
"Roll sound," she called.
"Sound speeds," came the response.
"Roll camera."
"Camera speeds."
The slate entered the frame.
"Zombie Kill of the Week, Roadroller, setup two, take one."
Christopher leaned toward the monitor. "Action."
Richard guided the roadroller forward.
The front drum rolled closer to the dummy, slow enough for the audience to understand what was coming. The camera stayed low beside the asphalt as the wheel reached the zombie's chest.
The chest rig burst too early.
Blood sprayed across the road before the drum fully touched the body, and the dummy's arm twisted in the wrong direction as the roller passed over it.
Christopher called, "Cut," while the roadroller continued several feet beyond the mark.
Richard stopped, looked back at the ruined dummy, and waited for the notes.
Phil watched the replay. "The wheel position is perfect. We need the blood cue delayed by half a beat, and the left arm needs to stay pinned beneath the torso."
The effects supervisor stepped forward with a nod. "We can fix both. Give us ten minutes to reset the body."
Richard climbed down from the cab while the crew rebuilt the dummy. "Take your time. I'd rather crush it correctly once than crush it incorrectly three times."
The third setup took longer because the effects crew replaced the torn torso, rebuilt the rib breakaway, and secured the left arm beneath the shirt. Fresh blood packs were loaded beneath the silicone chest, and the road was cleaned so the shot could match the earlier footage.
When everything was ready, Richard returned to the cab.
The assistant director locked down the road.
The slate came down.
"Zombie Kill of the Week, Roadroller, setup two, take three."
Christopher waited until every monitor showed the right framing. "Action."
Richard guided the roadroller forward with the same controlled pace.
The front drum reached the dummy.
The body flattened beneath the heavy wheel as the rib rig snapped, the chest collapsed, and dark blood burst across the asphalt. The roadroller continued over the torso, leaving the zombie crushed flat beneath the rear drum.
Christopher let the camera hold on the aftermath for several seconds before calling, "Cut."
Nobody spoke while the playback loaded.
Phil watched it once, then turned toward Christopher. "That's the impact shot."
Christopher nodded. "Print it. We have the roadroller kill."
Richard climbed down from the cab and removed his hard hat. "Good. I'd like my production credit upgraded to actor-producer now."
Jack looked up from the monitor. "I wanna drive that roller after the shoot."
"It looked really fun," Emma chimed in. "Maybe I'll try it out too."
The crew moved to Woody's no-look shotgun sequence before lunch.
The next set had been built along a narrow road packed with wrecked cars, broken luggage, abandoned shopping carts, and torn roadside signs. Tallahassee would walk through the center of the frame while a zombie rushed him from behind a damaged sedan.
Woody stood near the camera mark in Tallahassee's jacket and boots. The FX guys checked the prop shotgun, confirmed the loading status with the assistant director, and handed it over only after the cameras had been placed.
The zombie performer took his position behind the sedan. A practical blood charge had been hidden against the car door, timed to burst when Tallahassee fired backward over his shoulder.
Christopher walked Woody through the movement once. "Keep walking after the shot. Don't look back and don't give the zombie any attention."
Woody nodded, testing the weight of the shotgun in his hand. "That's easy enough for Tallahassee."
The assistant director raised her clipboard.
"Quiet on set. Lock it up."
The road fell silent.
The slate snapped into frame.
"Zombie Kill of the Week, Tallahassee no-look shot, take one."
Christopher called, "Action," as Woody started walking through the road.
The zombie rushed out from behind the sedan.
Woody swung the shotgun over his shoulder and fired backward without turning around.
The zombie dropped cleanly, though the blood charge burst a second after the body hit the ground.
Christopher called, "Cut," before the crew could reset the road.
Woody turned back toward the monitor. "Timing issue?"
"The movement is exactly right," Christopher said. "We need the blood hit on the muzzle flash. One more."
The effects team reset the charge, cleaned the car door, and gave the zombie performer a fresh blood-streaked shirt. Woody returned to his starting mark without complaint.
The second take came together.
The assistant director called the set quiet, sound rolled, cameras rolled, and the slate marked the shot.
Christopher called, "Action," as Tallahassee moved through the wrecked road.
The zombie rushed toward him.
Woody fired backward over his shoulder.
The blood charge burst against the sedan at the exact moment the zombie dropped, and Tallahassee kept walking as if he had barely noticed the threat behind him.
Christopher watched the monitor through the end of the take before calling, "Cut."
Phil smiled as the playback rolled. "That one works."
...
Stallone arrived shortly after lunch.
His cameo had been staged on a darker stretch of road lined with abandoned cars and six zombie performers. The script identified Rambo's weapon as a .357 Magnum loaded with 158-grain hollow points, though the production had built the scene around safe prop work, simulated muzzle flashes, practical blood effects, and visual-effects cleanup.
Each zombie performer wore a different prosthetic head rig beneath their makeup. The effects team had hidden a separate blood burst inside every rig, with six triggers controlled from behind the cars.
Stallone stepped onto the road in dark combat gear, boots, and a weathered jacket. He greeted Jack, nodded to Emma, then looked over the camera line without wasting time.
Christopher walked him through the movement. "You enter from the left, draw fast, and fire six times. Every zombie drops on their assigned flash. The camera stays wide enough to catch the whole sequence, then cuts to the closer angle after the final hit."
Stallone looked toward the zombie line. "Six shots, six drops. Got it."
The assistant director waited until everyone had cleared the road.
"Quiet on set. Lock it up."
The set went still.
"Roll sound."
"Sound speeds."
"Roll camera."
The slate entered the frame.
"Zombie Kill of the Week, Rambo cameo, wide setup, take one."
Christopher called, "Action."
Stallone stepped into frame and drew the revolver.
The first three shots landed cleanly.
The fourth zombie's blood rig failed to trigger.
Christopher called, "Cut," as the remaining performers held position.
The effects team moved in immediately, replaced the damaged prosthetic, cleaned the road, and reset the performers for another take. Stallone stayed near his mark, talking quietly with the stunt coordinator while the cameras remained in place.
The second take improved the blood sequence, though the fifth zombie dropped too late after the simulated shot.
Christopher watched the replay, then approached Stallone with a calm expression. "Your timing is perfect. We're adjusting the fifth cue, then we'll go again."
Stallone nodded once. "Take the time you need."
The third take became the final version.
The assistant director locked down the road.
The slate marked the take.
Christopher called, "Action," as Stallone entered the frame.
Rambo drew the revolver in one sharp movement.
Six shots cracked across the empty road.
Six zombie heads burst in sequence.
The bodies dropped one after another, blood striking the abandoned cars as smoke drifted through the frame. Stallone lowered the revolver, looked over the bodies once, and walked out before anyone on screen had time to react.
Christopher let the camera hold for three seconds before calling, "Cut."
The road stayed quiet while the monitor replay loaded.
Phil watched the sequence through to the end. "That's the winner."
Christopher nodded. "That's the one. Print it."
..
The cameo schedule finished with enough daylight left for Penny's scene.
She had spent the entire day near the production tents, watching every setup while holding her folded sides. The piano drop had shaken the pavement. Richard's roadroller had crushed a dummy in front of two cameras. Woody had hit his no-look shot in two takes. Stallone had turned six seconds of screen time into a moment the crew would probably talk about for weeks.
Penny had never been on a set like this before.
She had expected cameras, makeup, and directors. She had not expected the size of it, the discipline behind every fake disaster, or the way everyone moved with purpose once the assistant director called for quiet.
Christopher looked through the schedule, then turned toward her.
"Penny, we've got time for 406," he said. "Wardrobe's ready, the apartment set is lit... get ready."
Penny stood from her chair, tightened her grip on the pages, and looked toward the soundstage.
Emma walked over and patted her right arm. "You got this. Take a deep breath and just go for it."
Penny nodded. "Okay. I got it." She looked across the lot toward the exit, where Jack stood in Columbus's costume, talking to Stallone. Stallone said something to Jack and patted his shoulder with a smile before walking out.
==
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