I glanced at the headline. Battenapple’s Horror. I peered closer. It appeared to be a story about how disturbed she was by the death of Benjamin Alberts. My heart sank when I spotted the photo underneath the headline of two familiar teenage boys who were quoting a ‘special on-set source’. Bloody hell.

Armstrong transformed in an instant. His cheeks puffed out and a vein started bulging in his forehead. ‘Where did this come from?’ he yelled. ‘This is supposed to be a closed set! When I find out who has talked, I will rip them a new one!’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll be your new contestant.’ I forced a grin. ‘It’ll be better than being a runner, right?’

Half of the seated producers exchanged knowing looks. I had a feeling I’d just swapped one horrific job role for something far, far worse but I couldn’t allow myself to be thrown off set – Winter needed me. And now that the issue of necromancy meant I had more of an inkling about how bad things could get, I couldn’t abandon my favourite TV show to flesh-eating monsters. I’d have nothing to watch for months.

Armstrong pointed to the well-dressed fellow who’d first asked about the Order. ‘Barry, you’re her new producer. Get her ready for this afternoon.’ He stomped over to Mazza and snatched the newspaper from his hands. ‘This is ridiculous!’

Barry, it appeared, didn’t want to stick around any more than I did. He loped over to me and grabbed me by the elbow. ‘Come on, darling. Let’s go.’

I let him lead me out of the tent. Even though I was escaping the wrath of Armstrong, there was a horrible sinking sensation in my stomach. Just what exactly was I letting myself in for now?

Chapter Eleven

If I thought that I could take things easy now that my position as runner had been swept away at the whim of Armstrong and Belinda Battenapple, I was sorely mistaken. Barry the producer whisked me over to a dilapidated trailer where the legal team were located. They immediately abandoned their paperwork about the company’s lack of responsibility should any death and dismemberment occur for any and all crew members, and threw various wads of legalese at me to sign.

‘This is a waiver for any injury caused by your own actions. This is a waiver for any injury caused by the actions of other contestants. This is a waiver for any injury caused by marauding zombies.’

Okay, I was kidding about the last one but, given what other contingencies they’d prepared for, I was surprised that monsters weren’t included on the list. I wondered whether that meant my family would get compensation if a member of the walking dead ate me. Given how many bits of paper I had to sign, it seemed unlikely.

I’d have read through everything if the first paragraph of the first sheet hadn’t given me a headache. I had the feeling that it was designed to be as complex and incomprehensible as possible. In the end I gave up trying to be responsible and scribbled my name on everything they put in front of me.