I was hired as an extra for an indie film. There’s something seriously wrong on set

I stumbled across the site by accident. 

Sort of.  

With skyrocketing inflation, my 9-5 at Office Depot just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I started to get desperate. So, I did what every desperate guy does nowadays – I took to the internet. 

That’s when I happened upon the shady advertisement. 

ACTORS WANTED IN THE [REDACTED] AREA. $40 PER DAY. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. 

In the [redacted] area? Check. In need of $40? Check. No work experience required? Check. It seemed right up my alley. 

I was going over the pros and cons when my stomach growled, reminding me that I was Broke with a capital B. That was all the convincing I needed. 

Once I submitted the application, I went to the kitchen, certain that I had just wasted my time. I opened the refrigerator and gazed inside. A rotting onion and a half-eaten carrot gazed back.

***

To my shock, I was actually contacted regarding my application. I received a call from an agent the next day. 

“Uh, hello?” 

“Hiya! Gavin, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“This is Marty from A Plus Films. I’m calling about your application.”

I pumped my fist. “Awesome. Does this mean I got the job?” I said as my stomach growled, reminding me of the non-existent breakfast I’d eaten. Again.  

“You sure did! When can you start?” 

A grin inched across my lips. “I can start today.”  

***

As it turns out, the set was only a ten minute drive from my apartment. Fantastic news for me. Gas is expensive. 

I pulled to a stop in front of a building that had clearly seen better days. 

The brick exterior was weathered with age and someone had spray painted one of those S’s on it that people drew all the time in middle school. On top of that, a couple of the windows had bullet holes in them, and the entire property was overgrown with weeds. Marty couldn’t have picked a worse location if he tried. 

I had to do a double take to ensure that I was at the right place. I shot Marty a text to confirm. 

After receiving verification that this was indeed the right building, I reluctantly stepped out of my car, praying that it wouldn’t be on cinderblocks when I returned. I was getting a bad feeling about this. 

But, forty dollars is forty dollars, and I needed to eat. So, I walked up the crumbling steps to the door and prepared to knock. 

Before I got the chance, the door swung open. A man stood before me. Just based on our brief interaction, he was exactly how I had pictured him. 

Marty was a middle-aged gentleman with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair and a pencil mustache. He wore a cheap suit with an even cheaper “gold” chain around his neck, and the guy absolutely reeked of cigarette smoke. 

“Gavin! Welcome, my boy! Come on in,” he said, stepping aside. I took one last look at my car, locked it for the fifteen hundredth time just to be sure, and walked inside. 

The interior of the building wasn’t an improvement. 

Dim, flickering lights offered the occasional reprieve from the darkness permeating the room. Old machinery was haphazardly strewn about the floor. And to make matters worse, there wasn’t a single other soul in sight. 

“So, uh… where are the other actors? And where are we filming?” I asked, sweating bullets. 

“They’re right this way! Don’t mind the mess. We keep it all doom and gloom on purpose. Don’t need anyone stealing our film equipment, am I right?” Marty shot me a wink. I didn’t wink back. 

Dread gnawed at me as we progressed deeper into what I came to understand was an abandoned factory. We passed through a corridor with glass littering the ground, and just when I thought I was going to be the world’s newest victim of human trafficking, we emerged into a fully lit room. 

When I realized that we were no longer alone, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

But that relief was short-lived. 

There were five others in the room not including Marty and myself. Two teenage boys leaned against the wall, one with an unlit cigarette propped between his fingers. 

A blonde woman around my age stood behind an expensive looking camera. 

A man with black, spiky hair and eyeshadow stood to my left. 

And in the center of it all, a woman lay on an operating table, completely still. 

I was momentarily rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Because every one of them, aside from the girl on the table, was staring directly at me. 

“Well, what do ya say we make our rounds?” 

Marty slapped me on the back. That seemed to jolt my body awake again. 

“Yeah… That’d be great.”

I followed Marty to where the emo guy stood. His eyes followed me as we approached, but aside from that, he didn’t so much as twitch. 

“This is Dak. He’s our sound engineer. Say hi, Dak,” Marty said, grinning at him. Dak didn’t say a word. 

“He’s not much of a chatty Cathy,” Marty continued as we moved on to the blonde woman. Her icy blue eyes seemed to pierce my skull as she stared, refusing to move. 

“This is Irina. All the incredible shots we get are thanks to her.” 

Irina didn’t acknowledge me either. She just stood there, her gaze fixed on me like a life-sized doll. 

“Don’t mind her. She’s a bit shy around strangers,” Marty said, leading me to where the teens stood.

“These two wonderful gentlemen are Evan and Dale. They’re our prop designers. Twins, if you couldn’t tell.”

They were still as statues, just like their coworkers. Only their eyes moved, following me like I was a circus freakshow. 

“And this,” Marty said, taking me to the head of the table where the woman lay. “This is Annastasia, your co-star!” 

We passed a bright stage light, and for a moment, I was blinded. But when the scene came back into focus, it took everything in me not to scream. 

I will never forget the image of that woman lying on the table.

The corners of her mouth were stitched into a permanent grin. Deep gashes in her cheeks ran almost to her ears. And her eyes. They were missing altogether. Two hollow pits staring eternally at nothing. 

Part of me thought it was really good makeup. That this was all some elaborate ruse to scare the new guy on set. 

But I knew the truth. It was real. 

Before I had a chance to react, Annastasia’s hand shot out, black fingernails digging into my wrist hard enough to draw blood. She pulled me closer. I could see the dried fluids in her eye sockets. The wounds were sloppy, and infection was beginning to set in. 

She pulled me harder until my ear was directly beside her mouth. In soft, broken words she said, “Get out now. While you still can.” 

I didn’t hesitate. The moment she let go, I shoved Marty in the chest, sending him toppling into the stage lighting. 

“Kid, what the hell!” he shouted. I didn’t even listen if he was giving chase. The blood pounding in my ears was too loud. 

I ran back the way we came, crashing through the hallway and out the door. I fumbled for my keys, thanking my lucky stars that my car was still there, and I threw myself into the driver’s seat. 

I floored it out of the parking lot, driving like a bat out Hell. I was hyperventilating the whole way home, checking the rearview mirror every few seconds to make sure that I wasn’t being tailed. It wasn’t until I reached my apartment that the thought occurred to me to call the cops. 

With trembling hands, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Two notifications greeted me when the screen came to life. 

One was from Apple: AirTag Near You

The second was from an unknown number. 

Call the police, and you will pay*. We know where* you live.