Bill slogged through calf deep, room temperature water. His heavy and normally very comfortable work boots were completely filled. His toe skin, now rapidly softening , would soon resemble the California Raisins. Somehow the warmth of the water managed to exacerbate the situation. Why wasn’t it cold? Where the hell is everyone? None of this made any sense.

It had been three weeks since losing his job at the shop. He’d been there sixteen years and only missed two days. It was a case of viral pneumonia that had knocked him down for a long weekend a few years back. Now, sloshing around in this bullshit bath had him worried there may be a second round of sickness.

Bill James answered an add in the Rolling Thunder Express for one day of work on a movie set. The applicant must be willing to get wet and possibly dirty. Lunch would be provided and the pay was a whopping $125, paid at close of business. He had done more for less.

Glen, his point of contact, met him outside the hulking studio to open the door. Glen was an odd cat. Nice enough, but couldn’t look Bill in the eye and had a cold, clammy handshake, if you could even call it that.

Bill was instructed to go inside and walk straight to the back until another member of the production team found him. Once the doors closed behind Bill the room went oily black. The only light radiated from far back in the studio. Much, much further back. He sloshed and slogged toward the luminescence, but it maintained its distance. Never closer, nor farther.

He noticed something floating by and could barely make out the shape. It was a shirt. Small, but definitely a shirt. Maybe a kid or a smaller lady had dropped it. Maybe it was a costume.

“Hello! Where the hell is everyone? What’s going on in here?” He yelled at no one in particular. He was mainly just hoping to hear a voice.

Bill had always told Genie, his wife, that he trusted his gut. Now he was getting a bad report. Someone, something was inside with him and it wasn’t another extra. The temp suddenly dropped and his hackles raised. His breath fogged and the tip of his nose frosted like a winter morning. He began to get very tired, groggy and his feet suddenly felt like bricks.

How long had he been walking? Minutes? Days? His thoughts were murky. Why can’t he get any closer to that light?

A steady blast of cold air cut through his shirt and blew his hat off. The lights disappeared.

“What is this…? What the hell is going on in here?” Bills voice quaked with fear.

There was no response.