“No,” said Jack. And he climbed onto the handrail of the gantry. “No, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I … ooooooh.”
And Jack leapt into the wide blue yonder, as it’s sometimes known. And he soared, as in slow motion, and struck the mighty crystal chandelier. And did scrabblings. And did clawings. And did grippings. And did holdings on.
And did sighings.
And.
“Hello there, Jack,” said Eddie. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“They’re …” Jack huffed and puffed and clung on also and climbed a bit, too, until he was level with Eddie. “They’re going to blast the orchestra. We have to drop the chandelier upon them.”
“Such was my plan,” said Eddie, “but I cannot shift the nut.”
“Let me.” And Jack took the spanner.
And down below the other Jack’s fingers hovered above a big red button. And the other Jack looked down towards the other Eddie. And the other Jack smiled and the other Eddie smiled back. And those smiles were evil smiles. And the other Jack’s finger pressed down upon the blood-red button.
And above, Jack fought with the tricky nut. “It’s a tricky nut,” said he.
“Get twisting,” howled Eddie, looking fearfully below. “Oh no – something terrible’s happening.”
The white and awful light spread out from the hi-tech whatnot. It penetrated the rear of the stage flat, emerged through the painted backdrop and spread out onto the stage. The ballet dancers shielded their eyes, ceased their pirouetting and fled in confusion. The clockwork orchestra engaged in orchestration played on regardless, regardless.
“Twist the blighter,” Eddie further howled.
The awful light flooded the stage.
Other howls went up now, these from the audience. The explosion of light blinded their eyes and folk rose from their seats in confusion.
Jack got a purchase upon that nut. “I think it’s giving!” he said.
The other Jack adjusted controls, did twistings of his own of buttons rather than nuts. The terrible light swept out from the stage and dipped down into the orchestra pit.
And it fell upon the orchestra. Musicians rose to take flight, to escape from a terrible something. Dread. And panic. And confusion.
“Hurry, Jack, hurry!” cried Eddie.
“I’m hurrying.” Jack put his back to his work. The chandelier swung beneath him. Crystals shook. Jack forced at the nut, and the nut began slowly to turn.
But now terrible cries and screams came from the orchestra.
And terrible cracklings and poppings and sounds of hideous horribleness.
“Swing it,” cried Eddie. “As you turn that nut, swing the chandelier – we have to drop it right on top of these monsters. And quick please, Jack, the musicians are dying. They’re killing them, Jack.”
“I’m trying. I’m trying. Oh!”
And off came the nut, away from the bolt.
And …
“Nothing’s happening!” Jack shouted.
“You’ll have to kick the bolt out,” Eddie shouted back.
“And how will I do that?”
“Use this!”
The voice came in a shouted form from the lighting gantry. Upon this now stood the Phantom of the Opera. He held a hammer in his hand.
“Catch it and knock out the bolt.” And the Phantom threw the hammer. And Jack caught the hammer. And Jack used the hammer. And Jack knocked out the bolt.
And then things happened in sort of slow motion. In the way that they would if this were a movie (instead of real life, as it obviously was!).
Jack knocked out the bolt.
And the bolt spiralled away into space.
And the chandelier fell (in slow motion, of course).
And the light beneath penetrated the orchestra, bored its way into their very beings, sucked away at their very soul-stuff.
And the chandelier fell.
And with it fell Eddie and Jack.
And down went that chandelier. Down and down upon the other Jack and the other Eddie, who at its coming down looked up to see it doing that very thing.
And down too went Eddie and Jack.
And the orchestra, writhing and dying in the terrible light.
And the chandelier falling.
And now the Phantom, gripping a dangling rope. Swinging down from the gantry.
And the chandelier falling.
And the other Jack and the other Eddie looking up.
And the orchestra dying.
And the Phantom swinging (normal action now, not slow motion).
And he gathers up Jack and Eddie as they fall, sweeps onward, lands them and himself all safely upon another gantry, just lower down on the other side of the stage.
Nice work.
And the chandelier smashes down (normal action).
And explodes.
Into a million crystal fragments.
Spiralling crystals fly in all directions, which you can do really well with CGI nowadays.
And the awful light dies.
And things go very dark.
And very still.
And cut!
That’s a take!
Well done, everyone.
13
“Oh my goodness,” croaked Eddie. “Are we still alive?”
“You are alive,” said the Phantom, lowering Eddie to the floor of the lower gantry, “and so is your companion.”
“That is not what I mean.” And Eddie craned what neck he had to peer down at the shattered chandelier. It had probably been a most expensive chandelier, but there wasn’t much of it left now. “I mean the other we, the other me and Jack – are they still alive?”
Jack took to peering, clinging to the gantry handrail, his knees now wobbling somewhat.
“Can you see?” Eddie asked. “Did we smash those blighters good?”
“I can’t see,” said Jack. “But I can see … Oh dear, Eddie.”
“What is it? What can you see?”
“The orchestra,” said Jack, and he said it in a strangled whisper. “It’s the orchestra, Eddie. All the musicians are dead.”
Eddie buried his face in his paws. “This is as bad as,” he said.
“Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry.” Jack leaned down and patted his friend. “I’m so very sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“All your fault?” Eddie looked up with a bitter face. “It’s not your fault, Jack. You did everything you could. You were as brave as. It was my fault. The fault of these stupid paws. I couldn’t turn the spanner. If only I’d had my hands –”
“You did your best,” said the Phantom in his or her (or its) toneless manner. “And you couldn’t be expected to have hands. Hands, indeed? You’d look like that creepy mayor. In fact –”
“It was my fault.” Eddie regarded with bitterness his fingerless, thumbless paws. “Everything has been my fault.”
“Stop it, Eddie,” said Jack. “You did what you could. I should have leapt over to the chandelier in the first place.”
“You were both very brave,” said the Phantom, “and you had no care for your own safety.”
“And you saved us both,” said Jack. “We owe you our lives.”
“Oh, it was nothing. The least I could do.”
“I won’t forget this,” Jack said.
Eddie sighed, and he so hated sighing. “We’d better go down,” he said. “There is nothing we can do for the orchestra, but if the other me and the other you are still alive down there, I’m going to see to it that they don’t remain so much longer.”
“Steady, Eddie,” said Jack.
“I’ll lead the way,” said the Phantom. “It’s a bit complicated, but it does involve another secret panel.”
“We could just go down these steps,” said Jack.
“What, and miss the secret panel?”
“It’s probably for the best,” Jack said.