The Wrong Tool for the Job

[Fanatic†]

((Sarah Atwell continued from Hearing is Believing))

It hadn't taken her too long to reach the infirmary, maybe a few hours at most. During this time she didn't see anyone, but then again she hadn't really been trying to approach groups either. As she reached the outskirts of the infirmary her hand gently clasped over the thin metal band around her neck.

I'm forgetting something.

Her plan was going smoothly, she already had some great scenes, both on her smaller camera - ala Cloverfield and some which she would naturally have to get after the shooting on the island was over. A mere post-production concern. Nothing for her to worry about now. The building loomed closer as she strode forward eager to explore what award she had received. The thin windows and degrading walls seemed to cast a almost impossibly long shadow across the grass at the front and the sudden coolness of the shade triggered a memory in Sarah's mind. A memory of a life, feeling scared, two boys, a plan to return to reality. A moment of clarity. In that moment something cried out in the fog almost imperceptibly . A voice pleading for attention.

I'm forgetting something.

She shook her head. She had to concentrate now on the movie. Her latest prop awaited and there was no time for flights of fantasy. There were release dates to worry about, production schedules. Whatever that niggled at the back of her mind could wait. A large box, half covered by parachute lay in front of the gloomy building, the lid heavy and metal on top. Moving over to the case Sarah wrung her hands in anticipation as she pulled away the chute revealing the box. It was long, lengthier than any box she had seen before and indecipherable numbers and letters ran on the side. She placed one hand on the top, inhaling deeply and relishing the moment, letting her hand glide over the cool outer layer of her hard won prize. In a way it was calming, like some sort of relaxation technique. Something she had used in the past to get away from her pa...

Her what?

I'm forgetting something.

Her production crew. That was right. They were always harassing her to do bigger and better scenes. To convey so much in such little time. She had to focus. Sliding the heavy metal lid across Sarah let the smell wash over her. Metallic and most importantly new. A small plastic bag with a manual lay on the top, the rest covered by straw. Picking up the booklet she read the title.

User Manual and Operations Guide for the Heckler & Koch PSG-1 Semi-automatic Sniper Rifle

She frowned slightly and put her hands in to the straw grasping around the weapon and pulling it out. It was hefty and large. How was she supposed to carry this! Let alone fire the thing?! Honestly the prop department was being ridiculous. looking at the gun she was reminded of a familiar scent - someone visiting her? A relative, returning from somewhere? War? No that was ridiculous. She was making a movie that was all that mattered. She pulled out the box of ammunition and stashed the manual in her bag. Thank god the rifle came with a shoulder sling strap else she would not of been able to move. Hucking it over her back she turned away and began to move slowly away. There was no way she could move at any pace with this equipment but she would have to make do.

As she left the area she took one last glance at the decrypt building, it's walls looming over her like some forgotten call. The faint smell of glossy new books wafted to her nose - probably from the user manual she had just put away. It smelled like the first day at sch...

at?

at where?

On set.

I'm forgetting something

((Sarah Atwell continued in Heartbeat Symphony))