"Yes," said the Producer. "She certainly was fine." Frick stirred uncomfortably behind him.
"Anyway," the Director continued, "we're dropping in the dinosaur film—that's always good for a few shivers—and we've sent a crew into the Studio to get that man out of there—"
The Producer nodded his head toward his assistant. "Frick," he said, eyes on Manford. "You tell him."
Frick stepped into range. He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. "There'll be a meeting after the show," he mumbled.
"Meeting?" Manford said. "What for?" He blinked, and looked at Frick's bowed head. Then he looked dazed. "You don't mean a—a live meeting?"
Frick nodded. The Producer puffed contentedly on his hookahmatic. He blew a smoke ring, and it puffed itself to pieces against the phonescreen.
The man raised himself from the ground. His limbs felt weak, and he had to force the breaths through his lungs.
He got to his feet, feeling somewhat stronger. The forest seemed as impenetrable as ever, but he faced its challenge now with more confidence.
That girl! he thought. My God—she was really going to kill him! He shook his head bewilderedly. Such a young, pretty girl! What had he done to her? What made her want to do it?