The sun dipped behind the ridge, the forest shadows stretching long across camp. By the time the last cable was coiled and the Panavision locked back in its crate, everyone looked half-dead on their feet.
James clapped Terry on the shoulder. "Pack the reels and take them down to CFI. You'll be doing this every night, footage in by eight, pickup at eight in the morning."
Terry glanced at the stacked film canisters. "That's about an hour's drive, right?"
"Closer to forty-five minutes if traffic's light," James said. "Don't rush. we have bookings. Just make the handoff, get some sleep at home, and bring it back in the morning."
Linda added as she walked past, ledger in hand: "And don't forget the claim slip. They won't release anything without it."
Terry grinned, already hefting the canisters. "Got it. I'll see you all in the morning."
The Econoline rumbled out of the gravel lot, taillights fading into the trees.
By morning, Terry was back, eyes bleary but proud, carrying the reels into Cabin 5.
"Fresh from CFI," he said, setting them on the table. "Processed, spliced, and ready for us to watch."
"Perfect," James said. "Let's see what we've got."
Paul and Joel had already strung up a projector screen between two beams in the cabin. Dust puffed as they unrolled it, the battered 16mm projector whirring to life.
The crew crowded in, coffee cups in hand, still waking up.
The screen flickered. Craig puffed his cigarette, exhaled. The fake blood drop hit his cheek, his frown picture-perfect.
"That's our safety," James murmured.
The NGs rolled...Take One sputtered, Take Two jammed, Craig groaning about "death by carpentry." The cabin erupted with laughter, Sam nearly spilling her coffee.
Then came Take Three: the arrow punching clean through, blood spraying in an arc, Craig's face frozen in shock.
Silence held for a beat. Then Paul whistled. "That… plays."
James exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "That's the one."
Linda jotted something in her ledger even as she smiled. "Worth every ruined bedsheet."
Craig leaned back smugly. "Told you all I could die better than anyone here."
"Still do," Jerry muttered.
The second day of the shoot started with mist clinging to the lake, the surface smooth as glass. Crew boots crunched on the dock, wires snaked toward the generator, and the counselors clustered in jackets, shivering.
"Alright," James called out, megaphone in hand. "Lake scene. Ned pretends to drown, everyone panics. Keep it tight, lots of splashing, big energy."
Eddie Ramos grinned, already stripping down. "So I get to scare everyone and waste their cardio? Perfect."
"Just don't actually drown," Paul muttered, adjusting the camera tripod.
Mike balanced the boom pole, wrapping plastic around the Nagra to keep it dry. "If he drowns, at least the audio'll be clean."
The extras snorted.
"Places!" James barked.
They rolled. Eddie flailed in the water, shouting weakly. Sam and Craig bolted down the dock, yelling his name. Lisa threw off her sweater and jumped in with a splash, dragging him toward shore. Everyone was yelling, chaos captured from three angles.
"Cut!" James shouted.
The laughter continued as Eddie spat lake water. "Best prank I've ever pulled."
By afternoon, the cabin was hot, the air close. Craig and Lisa sat on the bed, awkwardly close, waiting.
James crouched beside the camera. "Remember, this isn't erotic cinema. It's vulnerability. Two kids sneaking a moment. Keep it soft, nervous, clumsy."
Craig smirked. "I've been practicing clumsy my whole life."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "That's not acting, then."
Linda clapped the slate.
"Action," James said.
The two leaned in, fumbling kisses, hands hesitant. Clothes shifted. It was clumsy, just as James wanted.
"Cut. Perfect," James said. "Now reset for the axe."
Jerry wheeled in the dummy rig, the axe gleaming under the lights. Lisa lay back down, this time with the latex headpiece secured.
"Don't blink when the axe comes down," Jerry instructed.
"That's reassuring," Lisa deadpanned.
James called the shot. The axe arced down, buried in the prosthetic with a crack. Blood sprayed. Lisa froze perfectly still.
"Cut!" James grinned. "We got it."
The crew exhaled. Everything was working.
By Day 6, the camp had found its rhythm. Breakfast at dawn, setup by eight, shoot until light broke or tempers flared. Scenes of laughter, screams, and staged deaths blurred together.
James drifted through it all with coffee in one hand, script in the other.
The van doors creaked open, and Betsy Palmer stepped out in a neat blouse and slacks, her smile bright against the morning chill. She waved like she'd walked onto a talk show stage, charisma radiating.
"Is this my little slaughterhouse?" she asked.
The crew laughed.
James took her bag. "Welcome to Crystal Lake, Ms. Palmer."
"Betsy," she corrected. "If you call me Ms. Palmer, I'll assume you're serving cocktails."
Sam hurried up. "It's an honor."
Betsy waved her off with a wink. "Save it. Let's get me to makeup before I start looking like the killer for real."
The first scene was small: Betsy and Sam in a cabin, casual dialogue that would later sour into menace.
"Action," James said softly.
Sam sat on the bunk, tying her shoes. Betsy leaned in the doorway, calm and conversational.
"You kids should be more careful out here," Betsy said warmly. "The woods aren't safe. Not since…" She trailed off, gaze turning distant.
Sam glanced up, genuine unease flickering across her face.
"Cut," James said. "That's perfect."
Betsy smiled, patting Sam's shoulder. "See? Easy. Acting's just lying with conviction."
Sam laughed nervously. "Then you're very good at it."
By nightfall, the grill smoke curled over the camp. Luisa had set up a makeshift barbeque: burgers, hot dogs, corn wrapped in foil. Crew and cast gathered around the fire pit, plates in hand.
Craig lifted a burger. "Finally, a death scene I can enjoy."
"Don't spill ketchup on wardrobe," Linda warned.
Jerry held up a paper plate like a toast. "To fake blood and real meat."
The crew cheered.
James leaned back, watching the firelight dance across tired, smiling faces. For the first time, the set felt less like a battlefield and more like a family. Tomorrow would bring more chaos, more blood, more takes but tonight, they ate together, alive and laughing under the stars.
They started to Prepare for the Night Shooting after a proper Barbeque Dinner.