Tom’s hand appeared in Jennifer’s narrow vision field.

‘Hello, Jennifer,’ he said and put a bunch of flowers in a vase.

Then the man himself crossed the event horizon, too, and not only the decorative bouquet on the cabinet become visible for the patient.

The owner of the Molehill Film Company was in her hospital room for the first time since the accident. Earlier, Jennifer didn’t know why her boss didn’t want to see her. Maybe, he blamed himself for leaving his actress unattended in a wheelchair in Stage 6. Or, what if he was just a cold-hearted businessman like any boss in the film industry, not caring for a disposable and amortised asset too much?

Tom pulled a seat to the side of the bed that Jennifer and her immense casts occupied. The girl’s head, torso, arms and legs were all held rigidly in fibreglass shells. But these casts weren’t merged perfectly with each other: the set of dressings was divided into three pieces.

The main segment was the biggest one, a flawless amalgamation of a Minerva cast and double shoulder spica cast. The smooth sphere on the skull seamlessly went down to capture her neck like a never-bending neckpiece, and it forked to swaddle the body and both of the arms. Planted into this big block of cast, she was unable to turn her body, to use her arms and to help herself.

Her legs, fixed in two separate long leg casts, rested hidden beneath a blanket. Theoretically, Jennifer could be able to walk despite the LLCs that turned her lower limbs into two rigid columns. But because of her cast-sealed arms, she wasn’t able to crutch, thus she was advised to ride a wheelchair even during the hours when she wasn’t confined to bed.

Stuck in the three-piece fibreglass outfit, Jennifer was denied of any kind of movement (though she could lamely move her casted legs a bit), and she was reliant on the permanent service and care that the nurses kindly provided.

‘I’m sorry for how deep our basement is,’ Tom said.

‘I’m sorry for leaving the room,’ Jennifer said.

‘To tell you the truth, I shouldn’t be here,’ he spoke softly. ‘The company lawyer told me not to meet you. Because it can be a sign of my bad conscience, and you can suit the Film Studio to get a huge amount of money as compensation for your injuries.’

Getting a lot of money for the pain, and for the lost time she would spend motionlessly and helplessly in an almost-full body casts... Jennifer had had endless time to think about a six-figure amount that a generous jury could award to her.

Even if the trapdoor had been open, the accident had been her fault. She should have sat on her casted ass in the stage room, and she shouldn’t have driven the wheelchair to discover the scene dock.

A compact integument in which she was unable to move a hundred of a millimetre. It was the reward for her curiosity.

Jennifer told him her decision. ‘There won’t be any lawsuit.’

‘Thank you.’ Tom smiled. ‘I swear I’ll work out something to help you.’

‘Now, we can add a new part to the advertisement series,’ Jennifer said. ‘A real-world, nicely shaped casts: a Minerva cast, double shoulder spica casts, and leg casts. The viewers will like it, won’t they?’

‘Good idea, but it’s a little bit late to do. I’m preparing a new film.’

‘The Living Dead World? Mike said some words about it.’

‘Yes, the new project has been launched.’ Tom nodded, and he peered at the shells capturing the girl. ‘Your new casts are bigger than any cast that our stun performers have ever worn. And the fake full body looked much funnier than this.’

‘You won’t believe it but I met one more Dr Berg. He is the twin brother of our Dr Berg at the Molehill Productions.’

‘He never talked about his twin brother. And how long time must you stay in this full body cast?’ Tom asked.

‘This is not a full body cast.’ Jennifer bit her lips, denying the obvious. ‘Maybe for a whole year, in the worst case.’

‘Andrea and Mike said you’re terribly bored.’

‘Well, my schedule is empty in the next twelve months.’

Tom leant forward in the chair. ‘I’ve got a special offer for you, Jennifer. Would you like to kill time and earn some money?’

‘How? I can’t do anything. I hope it’s not about something dirty.’

‘Dirty?’ Tom asked.

‘In the audition, I mentioned a website that I accidentally found a couple of years ago. There was a photo series to show a casted woman and an uncasted man having a good time together.’

‘Jennifer?! We are not involved in anything like this. Do what your job is.’

‘I’m in casts. I can’t serve customers in a restaurant,’ she said.

‘I mean do your dream job. You’re an actress. I’m talking about a new film role, of course.’

‘What can an actress with big casts play?’

‘Surely, you’re the most perfect person to play somebody with big casts.’

***

‘Marco, please meet Jennifer Lambertini. Jennifer, this is Marco Angelotti.’ Tom introduced the two people to each other, gesturing at the girl, who was almost fully buried in fibreglass coating.

‘Miss Lambertini? Buongiorno, bella signorina!’ Marco bent down to put a kiss on the uncasted fingers of the statue-like woman.

‘Thank you for your nice words, Mr Angelotti, but I can just guess what you told me. My family name is my only one Italian heritage,’ Jennifer said.

‘Oh, no worries. Please call me Marco,’ he said. ‘So, are you the angel who has fallen into our basement?’

‘I think you can easily figure out the answer if you check this.’ Jennifer bent her fingers to point at the immense body cast that consumed her figure.

‘I talked to Marco about you,’ Tom said. ‘Marco works for the Molehill Productions, and he’s making his film.’

‘Its title is ”Vengeance for Victoria”,’ Marco said. ‘This is a crime thriller about a poor man who marries a girl from a rich family. After Victoria inherits a large sum of money from her parents, he tries to kill her. At first, he sabotages the brakes of her car, but she survives the accidents. Victoria is taken to a hospital with serious injuries. The husband comes there to murder her. This is just the first part of the movie, as a long intro. The main part is about how Victoria’s sister gets revenge on him. Simple but brutal, PG-rated.’

‘And I suppose I should play the role of the broken Victoria, who is in hospital with big casts?’ Jennifer asked.

Marco flashed a glance at the handicapped chick. Wearing cast all over her body and all the four limbs, she sat fixed on the bed.

‘After Tom read the script, he told me that a young woman with a lot of casts is available for us. But, honestly, when I wrote the story, I imagined the character with much smaller casts... Maybe one or two broken legs, and one arm in cast, and some bandages here and there. Nothing more.’

So, this body cast is terrifically big for him - Jennifer thought.

‘However, it’s unnecessary to make casts for hours just to shoot a five-minute scene,’ Tom said. ‘Why should your main actress wait for getting fake casts if you can get a ready-made one here? You can rewrite the story. The size of the casts doesn’t influence Victoria’s fate. And you can shock the audience when you show them the female protagonist in such big casts.’

‘Yeah, Melanie didn’t want to stay in casts even for a minute, and she didn’t like my idea at all. Well, Jennifer, would you like to substitute her in my movie?’

‘For sure,’ she said. ‘But how will you transport me to the film studio?’

‘The doc said that it would be a bit early to take you away from here. But he gave me special permission to make this short scene in your room,’ Tom said.

‘Have you already organised everything? Were you so sure that I would say “yes”?” Jennifer asked.

‘When I saw the sparks in your eyes during the audition, I was sure you would never say ‘no’ for such a good offer,’ Tom said.

***

Just one hour later, Marco told the last instruction to actress, whom her debilitating shells pinned down to the pillows. Besides the original casts, Jennifer was given patches of gauze on her face to hide her look.

‘Now, we set your bed to a horizontal position. You’ll lie on the bed...’

‘I can’t do anything else,’ Jennifer said.

‘The lights will be dimmed. Then the door opens, and your evil husband comes in the room to kill you. The followings are very important. Before he presses a pillow against your face to suffocate you, you must take a deep breath. Repeat it.’

‘Before he puts a pillow on my face, I take a deep breath,’ she echoed.

‘He keeps the pillow on your face for twenty seconds. You die. End of scene. Okay?’

‘Understood,’ Jennifer confirmed.

Marco and Tom hid in a corner of the room. They gestured at the cameraman on the other corner, and the other one standing close to the door. The lights got dimmed.

‘Action!’ Marco said.

Jennifer lay on the bed, concealed in the half-light. Her arms were frozen in shoulder spica casts, bent at the elbows, with hands pointing upwards. If it had been a real attack, she wouldn’t have been able to defend herself. Casts confined her legs, preventing her from running away. She was in a perfectly vulnerable state, exposed to the whim of an evil attacker.

The door opened. She couldn’t see the actor because the cast immobilised her neck. Lying horizontally, she was forced to gaze at the ceiling in the darkness. The man sneaked to the bed, and he was searching for something on the chair near her bed. At last, he found the pillow.

She heard Marco’s whisper, counting down: ‘Three... Two... One... Deep breath!’

Right then, the pillow was pressed against Jennifer’s face.

to be continued

Jennifer didn’t throne in a wheelchair any longer. Instead, her statue-like figure was lodged in a temporary abode in the guise of a cushion pile on a hospital bed.

With a long procedure, a six-membered team of surgeons had replanted the poor actress from the big shell into great casts. However, this time, her encasement was real and made for long term. Her head, neck, body, arms and legs all were caressed in soft cast paddings and were firmly implanted into hard coatings. The sensation of the total restriction was like the feeling she had experienced in the fake FBC.

Though the extent of the new shells was analogous to the old ones, some features were different. Mainly, her pose. She wasn’t frozen in the ridiculously weird posture but in a more tolerable one. For example, the arms, fully encased, of course, were symmetrically kept far away from the body. And the material of the casts, which were moulded all around her figure, didn’t remain the same, either. The rude and ugly plaster integument had been replaced with a streamlined and neat fibreglass rind.

The cool stream of air, blown from the air-conditioner, fondled Jennifer’s face. Compared to the cast into which her head was embedded, the face window was tiny, expanding just from the eyebrows to the lower lip. Yet the girl enjoyed having this cast-free piece of skin, where she had no cast mask to veil her face.

The unyielding Minerva cast secured her head, thus she was allowed to look only ahead. From her pillow-propped sitting posture, she saw her uncasted fingers jutting out of the end gap of the immense shoulder spica casts. Next, she checked the free toes, too, which rested on the oversized toe plates. It was all that remained unbound, and everything else was restrained in casts.

‘Oh, our little survivor is awake,’ someone said, entering the room. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Lambertini.’

‘Survivor? Why?’ Jennifer asked. She just listened to the steps of the invisible man until he appeared in her limited field of view.

‘If you hadn’t worn the fake full body cast, your story would have had a sad ending. The strong casts protected you from death and paralysis, but you suffered several fractures, and the healing process will take a while. Luckily, there is nothing extremely serious or irreparable. You’ve got a good chance to have a full recovery.’

While talking, the doctor pulled a chair to the bed, and he sat on it.

Jennifer looked at the familiar face of the old surgeon. ‘Dr Berg? Here?’

‘Do you know me?’

The girl got confused. ‘Why do you ask it? You personally made all my casts for the film scenes.’

‘Oh, I got it.’ He laughed. ‘My name is Keith Berg. And you must have met my twin brother Aaron. He works at the Molehill Productions.’

Jennifer sighed. ‘Wow, what a coincidence. Life is strange.’

‘Life imitates dreams. Do you remember what happened to you?’

Jennifer closed her eyes to recall the incident. ‘Because of a film role, I was in plaster FBC... I was in one of the buildings of the Molehill Studios... when my wheelchair rolled into something deep and dark... and that’s all.’

‘Somebody left a trapdoor open in the Scene Dock, and you fell into the basement. As I told you, the fake plaster casts were robust enough to save your life, but they couldn’t protect each of your bones. Saying it in the simplest way, you moved from a fake full body cast into a real, almost-full body cast.’

Jennifer gazed at the large set of the body-hugging shells. She tried to recall what the first Dr Berg had told her about the healing time of serious fractures. Weeks? Months? Years? It would be so good to remember.

‘I can’t imagine how confining your real casts are,’ Dr Berg the Second said. ‘However, if you learn what they are made for, probably they seem more accomodable. Can I talk some words about them? Your head, neck and torso are encased in a Minerva cast. It immobilises your neck but it leaves all your face free. On the arms, you wear a double shoulder spica cast with support bars.’

Noticeably, the pose of her arms profoundly differed from the previous settings. Earlier, one of her arms had been frozen above her head, while the other had been closely plastered to the body cast. Now a symmetrical should spica casts engulfed both of her arms. The fully disabled limbs were held at shoulder level, and they were bent at the elbow at a right angle. Slim but strong rods attached the casted arms to the bandaged torso.

‘Luckily, your fingers and thumbs survived the accident unharmed,’ he said.

The domain of the debilitating SSCs stopped at the first knuckle of the fingers. To spare and protect the extremities, the digits uselessly rested on well-padded fibreglass plates.

‘And last but not least, there’s a dual long leg casts made for you.’

The shells capturing the lower limbs started from the base of the toes. After encasing the ankles, the stiff bandages incapacitated the knees and crept up to the highest point of the thighs. Artificially straddled, the legs formed a letter V.

‘And for how long should I stay here?’ she asked quietly.

‘Here? If you mean “hospital”, you’ll be here for two or three weeks. We’ll continuously monitor your health state to know if there is any complication during your recovery. Then, if you can hire a nurse, or one of your friends can help you, you can go home immediately.’

‘And what about the casts?’

‘You must wear them for eight to twelve months, depending on the healing of the fractures.’

It’s long - she thought. It’s too long. It’s hellishly long.

***

The nurse stepped in Jennifer’s room to move the door wide open. ‘Ms Lambertini, you’ve got visitors.’

Jennifer flinched. Although she didn’t want anybody to see her in her mummy-state, she turned the TV set off. She just moved her uncasted index finger to press the ‘power off’ button on the remote control that was on a wheeled stand, which was rolled right under the end of her mammoth-sized shoulder spica cast.

Preparing for receiving the visitors, she listened to the voices of quiet talking, accompanied by a familiar sound of a wheelchair rolling on the floor.

‘Please, can you go toward the end of my bed? My head is fixed in a cast, so I can see only the part of the room which is in front of me.’ She guided the guests so that they could find the best place.

‘Surely,’ a man said.

‘Mike?’ Jennifer asked.

Appearing in Jennifer’s tunnel-vision field, a man and a woman arrived at her bed. Really, he was Mike Martin, the second man of the Molehill Productions. He wore his usual T-shirt with zebra stripes; besides, a baseball cap with a similar pattern crowned his head.

‘I’m terribly sorry for all that happened to you, Jennifer,’ Mike said. ‘Such a serious accident! It was a black day for Molehill Films. How are you?’

‘Oh, thanks, I’m kept together. This is a nice place to be. I don’t have to do anything, and I’m served all day long,’ Jennifer said, a bit bitterly. ‘I was with Tom when I heard about Andrea's accident.’

‘Unluckily, the last attempt on the car crash stunt scene became too real,’ Andrea said. ‘I had a tyre puncture, the car turned upside down, and I’ve broken my arms and legs.’ She watched Jennifer’s cocoon of breath-taking size. ‘It’s a bit weird. There is an actress whose casts are bigger than mine. If I would add all the casts I wore in my life, then it could be as extensive as yours.’

‘It’s not a full body cast,’ Jennifer said. ‘My face isn’t casted. And my fingers and toes are free. And this is not a double hip spica cast but only two long leg casts.’

She glanced down at the blanket covering the uppermost portion of the leg casts, which weren’t attached to the body cast. To demonstrate her not-full restriction, Jennifer waved her fingers. The free digits protruding out of the huge white shell looked like a small ship with a huge iceberg in the background.

‘Where’s Tom?’ Jennifer asked.

‘He told me to forward his good wishes to you because he can’t be here. Ah, you know how the film business works: despite the victims, the show must go on. He’s already preparing the next project. “The Living Dead World”.’

‘I’ve seen several zombie suits in the warehouse.’ Jennifer tried to nod, but her head remained stuck in the tight, hood-like head cast. ‘And what about the advertisement series?’

‘We’ve got enough material to finish the films,’ Mike said. ‘It needs some rounds of postproduction, editing, so on. I think we’ll finish it in two months, and you can see it.’

The cast film was over, and Jennifer felt wretched. She became not only broken but unemployed, too. She wasn’t either a waitress or a film star. Right after the accident, she had been fired from her old job at the restaurant, too, and her first film could be the last one in her short filmography.

‘Andrea, can I ask you something?’ Jennifer said.

‘Surely.’

‘You must have had several accidents during your career, and you must have worn casts, too. When you were in casts, you couldn’t work for a long while, obviously. But what did you do in your free time?’

‘Oh, having casts, recuperation and rehabilitation... it all takes a long time.’ Andrea looked at her stretched-out broken legs on the leg rests, which the long and short cast debilitated. ‘Do you remember my previous accident?’ She peered up at Mike.

‘Oh, what a horrible fall it was!’ Mike said.

‘I was chased by cannibal aliens.’ Andrea changed her pose in the wheelchair, carefully trying to spare her cast-bound arms. ‘I slid from the cliff, and I landed into a shoulder spica cast and a hip spica cast. While I was in home-care, I attended a business course at a distance learning university. And now? I suppose I’ll learn some Spanish again.’

‘Not a bad idea. I’ll have enough time to learn Chinese.’ Jennifer sighed.

Her holiday would take much longer than Andrea’s. Pushing the channel changer button of the remote control wouldn’t be enough entertaining. She should do something if she wouldn’t want to get crazy from boredom. But what could she do if she wasn’t able to move either her arms or her legs? She wasn’t even able to help herself.

She looked at her casted body, her frozen arms and bound legs. ‘And me? What the hell can I do in the next twelve months?’

But neither Mike nor Andrea knew the answer.

‘This is incredibly ridiculous!’ Tom burst into a never-ending peal of laughter. The reason for his good mood was Jennifer’s arms and legs that were frozen in absurdly asymmetrically position.

‘Hwhwhwwhhh.’ The girl’s voice could hardly get through the gap in the plaster mask obscuring the face.

‘I knew that the final cast would be huge, but this is...’ Tom was unable to finish the sentence, giggling.

Dr Berg stood by the wheelchair that accommodated the mummified Jennifer. ‘Mr Franklin, I’ve read Mr Martin’s script, and he really wanted to have something big.’

‘What is it? A full body cast?’ Tom extended his arm to touch the surface of the bizarre shell.

‘Yes, it is. However, “full body cast” is a wrong expression used by ordinary people. The official medical literature calls it...’

Tom moved up his arm. ‘Please, stop, Doc. Call a full body cast a full body cast.’

The tiny mouth gap filtered Jennifer’s mumble. ‘Hewhw hww.’

‘What did she say?’ Tom glanced at the smooth surface of the plastered face. ‘Maybe, she’s thirsty.’

‘I don’t think so. She drank a lot of juice before we started the casting procedure.’ Dr Berg glanced at his wristwatch. ‘However, it was hours ago.’

Tom bent closer to measure the slot-like opening and the nicely rounded edges around the casted lips. ‘And how will she drink?’

‘With a drinking straw, of course,’ the doctor said.

The featureless plaster exterior totally masked her face, making the person inside unrecognisable. Like a thick white helmet, the compactly sculpted cast was all over the head, and it embraced the neck, therefore she couldn’t either turn her head or speak.

From hips to toes, from fingertips to shoulders, Jennifer was wrapped in a limitless white surface that was moulded from plaster. Hidden behind the body-sized envelopment, she became absolutely assistance-dependant. Her right arm was permanently kept in the air and bent at the elbow, so her right hand was elevated above her head. The other arm was tightly captured, too, to be near the body, in a pose that was neither a classic shoulder spica cast nor a velpeau cast.

Like the arms, the lower limbs were restrained in different poses. Protruding out of the neat block hugging the body, the right leg was stretched out to lay on a leg rest, while the left one was bent at the knee to occupy a footrest.

‘Is this posture normal?’ Tom asked.

Dr Berg shook his head. ‘No, the setting is quite unusual. Mr Martin told me to be creative, so I tried to build up something comical. However, Ms Lambertini will easily survive one day or two in it even if it’s uncomfortable.’

‘Wwwhww whhhh,’ she growled.

‘Ms Lambertini may have a different opinion,’ Tom said, laughing. ‘Okay, Jennifer, we’ll shoot the scenes, and you’ll be free soon. Dr Berg, could you tell me some words about this full body thing?’

‘First of all, someone must be exceptionally fate-stricken to be trapped in a full body cast,’ Dr Berg said. ‘During my whole career, I didn’t meet anybody in full body cast. However, in 1972, I had a patient, who must be encased in a Minerva cast, two long arm casts and two long leg casts. Nowadays, even the most seriously injured patients get away without casts.’

‘The last episode of our advertisement series depicts the life of an unlucky race car driver, who wanted to be the world champion, but she got into a full body cast after an accident,’ Tom said.

‘If your driver had crashed into a wall before the 1980s, she could have received a full body cast for real.’

Tom’s fingers checked the smooth plaster dome concealing the girl’s head. ‘White Vader.’

‘Hwmm hwmm,’ Jennifer murmured to protest.

‘Who?’ Dr Berg said.

‘Darth Vader with a white helmet. You know: Star Wars,’ Tom said.

‘Oh, I completely missed the movies, but my grandchildren surely know who he is. If Miss Jennifer had badly injured the backbone, we would have applied a real cast to immobilise the whole torso. And this immense unit integrates the Minerva cast, and it includes the cast of the four limbs, too.’

The overdone body cast completely dissolved the girl’s nice figure. On the flattened body cast, just two frozen waves gave hints at the hidden breasts.

‘Good work, Doc,’ Tom said. ‘The viewers will absolutely like it. Soon, I bring Ms Lambertini back, and you can use a can-opener to free her.’

Fully stuck in casts, she didn’t find it too funny. ‘Wwwh hhh.’

‘Okay, Jennifer. We learnt the basics of your newest and biggest cast. And now, let’s go on making and finishing the film.’ Tom began pushing her wheelchair toward the next studio.

***

‘Please, Andy, please.’ Tom warned the cameraman.

However, Andy kept giggling, and the camera in his shaking hands moved up and down chaotically.

‘Whhhm hwmm,’ Jennifer said from behind the plaster façade.

Andy sat on a chair, imitating the body position which Jennifer was frozen into. He kept his left arm close to the body as if he had been holding it on his lap. Meanwhile, he raised the right arm above his head, and then stretched out his right leg. He chuckled again.

‘Andy, it’s time to do your job,’ Tom said.

To kill his smile, Andy pressed his lips together and grabbed for the camera again. ‘Okay.’

‘We’re in Stage 6,’ Tom talked to the mummified girl. ‘It looks like a typical hospital room. Imagine that you’re in a real full body cast, so you must spend half a year or more in this hospital. We’ll take several shots to depict you rolling up and down in the wheelchair. Then the scenes come, about you lying in the bed, and finally, some short outdoor scenes again.’

‘Whhm mmwhh,’ Jennifer said.

Tom shook his head. ‘I’ve got no clue what you’re trying to tell me. If you hate being exposed, then there’s a piece of good news for you. Nobody will recognise you because there is a cast all over your face. Most likely, you’ll be an attention magnet out there, but even this full body cast looks much better than any costume that those lame Hollywood superheroes wear.’

‘You can control the wheelchair via this device.’ Tom held a long, thin tube in his hand. ‘This so-called tongue-control system was developed to help the fully paralysed people. I’ll put this end into your mouth, and I’ll connect the other end to the control panel.’

‘If you push the tube upwards with your tongue, the wheelchair will go ahead. If you push it downwards, the wheelchair stops. If you turn it to the left, the wheelchair turns to the left. I hope, you can guess what happens when you push it to the right... If you understand it, please tell me two “whwh”-s.’

‘Whwh, whwh.’

‘Okay.’ Tom carefully inserted the tube into the pinhole for the mouth. ‘Please try to use it.’

Now a long tube linked Jennifer’s mouth gap to the wheelchair engine. Inside her mouth, her tongue sensed the taste of plastic. The girl slowly moved the pipe upward. The signal ran through the cable, and the wheelchair edged two yards forward. As she pushed it downwards, the wheelchair stopped.

Tom waived for Andy to start filming.

To move in the room, Jennifer experimented with the tongue driving. She started up and stopped the wheelchair several times. She went ahead and turned to left. She even managed to go around a chair.

Tom glanced at his watch. ‘Thanks. Coffee break! Dr Berg told me we should regularly give a drink to our fully casted film star.’

Jennifer’s temporarily chaperone, Nurse Colette approached the wheelchair of the mummified actress to serve a cup of tea and a drinking straw. The assistant carefully pulled the tube out of her mouth and put the straw into the opening. Refuelling, Jennifer sipped some tea.

The nurse caressed the cast-covered head of the wheelchair-bound girl. ‘Oh, poor you.’

‘This is not real,’ Tom said.

Nurse Colette turned around, hurt a bit. ‘Oh, I know... but this big cast recalls old memories. Once I helped a woman, who was confined in...’

However, Jennifer didn’t learn if the earlier patient’s casts had been as big as hers. Tom’s mobile phone rang to disturb Colette’s story. Answering, soon, his face became pale.

‘Everything stops,’ Tom said. ‘Mike called me. He and Andrea were making the outdoor stunt scenes for the race car scene, when an accident happened to her. For real. Mike has already called the Emergency Services, but I think we must go there to help them. Nurse, please come with us... I’ll call Dr Berg, too. Maybe we can help Andrea if we get there faster than the ambulance.’

Tom turned to the plaster-rendered film star. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but I must leave you here for some time in this full body cast. I came back as soon as I can, and we’ll talk about how and when we shoot the missing scenes.’

Tom, followed by the crewmembers and the nurse, stormed out of the room. Without them, the time past killingly softly. Waiting is boring, especially in a full body cast that prevents its resident from doing anything.

After circling around the bed for the zillionth time, Jennifer decided to discover the other parts of the building. She just moved her tongue forward to push the control stick in her mouth, and the wheelchair smoothly rolled out of the staged hospital room to the corridor.

The electric wheelchair soundlessly glided along the hallway until she bumped into a closed door. Her tongue moved away from the plastic tube to halt the vehicle. The girl peered through the tiny eyeholes to read the enticing letterings on the wall. In front of her, the place was called ‘Scene Dock. No entry without permission’.

She was curious, but, with stuck arms, she was denied from turning the door latch. Yet, as the wheelchair rolled closer, the gates automatically slid aside.

The empire behind the door was a warehouse to store the sets of clothes, accessories, tools and equipment for any kind of movies. Poking her casted nose into the forbidden area, Jennifer’s wheelchair moved along the shelves that were full of every type of costumes, ranging from bullet-ridden cowboy jeans to brand new spacesuits.

A gleam appeared on the edge of her vision field, freaking her out in the sparingly lit place. However, halting, she just noticed the reflections of light on a bright suit of armour standing in the corner. The large and heavy metal coverage of the medieval knight was a distant relative of her body cast.

Moving forward, she discovered ugly space monsters on Shelf 9 and 10, and she found laser weapons, too, made for the heroes and heroines to defeat the evil invaders. Will Tom and Mike make the “Robot Zombie Aliens 2”?

Losing the sense of time in the full body cast, Jennifer didn’t know how much time passed since she started cruising in the storage room. Suddenly, she heard noises coming from outside. Maybe Tom came back?

It was time to return from the real warehouse back to the fake medical room. She pressed upward the control stick in her mouth, and the wheelchair sped up.

From this corner of the warehouse, the shortest way between Shelf 10 and 11 went across a piece of a black carpet. Jennifer chose the shortcut, but when the wheels arrived at the dark spot, she saw that not a small rug lay on the floor.

The chair’s front wheels span in the empty air, as they vainly struggled to roll over the unclosed trapdoor.

Wearing a full cast all over the head and face, Jennifer couldn’t cry for help. With her wheelchair, the fully plastered girl silently nosedived to disappear in the darkness of a deep basement.

to be continued

‘New day, new cast,’ Jennifer said. ‘Is it the agenda? Are my casts getting more and more confining?’

Transformed and pieced out, the earlier dual long leg casts had become an integrant part of a monstrous shell that assimilated half of Jennifer’s body. Her long dress obscured only the central part of the plaster armour, and most of the leg casts remained exposed. Besides, she received two separate shells to handicap her hands. The girl didn’t know what to do with her plaster-rendered arms, and she just eyed at her limbs that rested on her lap, fully wrapped.

‘These are called long arm casts,’ Dr Berg said. ‘This is the thing we apply when you break your upper arm or your elbow.’

Looking alike, the cumbersome coatings began at the armpits, and their rigid layers narrowly encircled the upper arms and captured the elbows. The frozen plaster rivers glaciered down to encase the forearms just to stop at the wrists. Jennifer’s upper limbs were permanently flexed in a ninety-degree-angle at the middle joint, thus the appearance of her dual long arm casts was similar to a letter L moulded from stone-hard material.

‘I can’t do anything,’ she complained after she tested the rigidity of the shells. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t overcome the firmness of the inelastic bondage, and her frozen arms couldn’t get any closer to her mouth, either. ‘I can’t even feed myself.’

‘From now on, you must rely on the assistance of a devoted friend. Of course, the Molehill Company will hire a nurse to help you. Anyway, you’re overreacting it a bit, Miss Lambertini, because these casts are fake, I’ll remove them in a week.’

Her belly and the whole legs were fully nested into the plaster shield that closely embraced her figure up the lowest ribs.

‘And what is this thing?’ Jennifer knocked her arm casts against the colossal rind that chained her down to the wheelchair. Thudding, plaster put a kiss on plaster.

‘It’s a so-called double hip spica cast,’ the doctor said. ‘It stabilises your broken pelvis... oh, I mean... it would stabilise your pelvis if it had been broken. As you feel and see, it’s all around your lower body, and it encases both of your legs, too.’

‘And if it was real, how long should I wear it?’ Jennifer asked.

‘For six to twelve months, if I remember well. But nowadays, the surgeons apply more modern methods. This kind of injury is treated in surgical ways, especially via operations.’

‘For half a year at least? This is hellishly long. I don’t know how I would survive it.’

‘I think you can cope with it,’ Tom said, just entering the medical room.

‘Hello, Tom. What’s the script for today?’ Jennifer asked.

‘A wonderful movie that is called “The Fallen Parachute Jumper” starring Miss Jennifer Lambertini. According to the story that Mike wrote, there’s an unlucky parachute jumper who had a terribly bad landing, and instead of getting an award for the new world record, she received a lot of huge casts. What kind of casts, Doctor?’

‘A double hip spica cast and two long arm casts,’ Dr Berg said.

‘Half of my body is in plaster,’ Jennifer said.

‘The viewers...’ Tom said.

‘...will like it?’ Jennifer finished the motto.

‘Not exactly. The viewers won’t see every piece of your casts, because you must wear clothes to cover your breasts, and the dress will hide the upper part of the double hip spica cast, too. You shouldn’t forget that this is a viral video for general audience.’

‘But if no viewers can see the whole cast, why should I wear such a vast DHS?’ she asked.

‘Well, the viewers must experience your restricted way of life. They must see as you fight with the limits of your cast. All in all, you’ll need to have this big thing. Of course, we’ve further plans with you, Jennifer.’

‘What’s the plaster cast project for tomorrow?’

‘This is a film studio, I can’t tell spoilers.’ Tom pushed the wheelchair out of the cast room. ‘But I bet you can figure it out, especially if you would read the contract at last.’

Jennifer enjoyed the wheelchair ride toward the neighbouring building. ‘Are Mark and Andrea making the scenes of the parachute jumping and the accident?’

‘Yes, they are.’

‘Is Andrea a stuntwoman?’ Jennifer asked. ‘I suppose she broke her bones for several times, and she had to wear real casts.’

‘Her job is dangerous. She’s got casts in every two or three years. No matter how careful we are, accidents can happen at any time.’

‘Where are we going?’ Jennifer asked after Tom didn’t steer the wheelchair into the building after the fork in the road. From habit, she attempted to point at the direction board at the side of the pavement, but she was hardly able to elevate the weighty long arm cast. ‘We’re leaving the Molehill Studios.’

‘We’ll shoot some outdoor scenes again,’ Tom said. ‘There’s a lovely park right next to this place.’

‘With people? I don’t want to be stared at.’

‘You’re paid to be stared at. You’re an actress.’

Jennifer sighed. ‘Everybody is interested in my casts. If only they would be interested in me.’

***

Standing in the shadow under a maple tree, the cameraman and the crew were already waiting for them. Tom stopped and pulled up the handbrake of Jennifer’s wheelchair.

Unable to get up, the girl remained sitting in the cast-created stiff pose, and placed the plastered arms onto the padded rests. The DHS locked her legs that rested on the cushioned plastic platforms attached to the wheelchair.

‘What to do?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Scene One,’ Tom said. ‘After the two-month-long hospitalisation, our broken and heavily casted parachute jumper meets Nature, again. You should go up and down along the walkway in the park. White casts, black wheelchair, green background, blue sky, and a beautiful actress. It all makes a good composition.’

Jennifer looked at her casted legs. ‘Walking up and down? How?’

‘I mean rolling up and down with the wheelchair.’

‘How to propel a wheelchair with broken arms?’ Jennifer lowered her casted limbs to the wheel rims, however, she was unable to flex the elbow to move the muscles.

‘Your arms are not broken,’ Tom said.

‘I mean with casted arms...’

‘You don’t need to drive the wheelchair. It’s motorised.’ Tom walked closer, and he tenderly placed Jennifer casted right limb on the control panel.

‘I thought the engine doesn’t work. You manually pushed the chair to take me here.’

‘I didn’t want to discharge the batteries of the wheelchair. We’ll need full charge so that we can shoot the scenes,’ Tom said. ‘There’s a joystick-like thing at the end of the right armrest. If you push it forward, the chair goes forward. If you turn it to right, the chair turns to right, and so on. It’s a cakewalk. I hope so.’

Jennifer laid her right arm on the rest so that her finger could reach the joystick. Carefully, she pushed the control column ahead. Driven by the electric engine, the wheelchair started noiselessly going forward.

‘Okay, Jennifer, I bet you can do it. Roll along the pavement, and when you get to the oak trees, go around the fountain and come back here.’

Following the simple itinerary, she did what Tom had said. When she encircled the artificial spring, she met a young couple. Jennifer got embarrassed by their steady and intent gaze, as they kept looking at the poor girl, who sat disabledly in a wheelchair, with all the four limbs in full casts.

After being exposed to the people’s curiosity and the scorching sunshine, it was good to hide in the shadows under the trees. Having so huge and thick casts in hot weather wasn’t an uplifting experience. Someone should have invented plaster casts with built-in air-conditioning.

When Jennifer rolled back, Tom stepped to her. ‘There’s a surprise waiting for you.’

‘You can’t be serious.’ Glancing at the director, the girl expected for a different present.

Tom showcased the two crutches he held in his hands. ‘I don’t want you to walk. Just try to stand on your feet. Only for a moment, please.’ He went closer to Jennifer’s place to help her out of the wheelchair. ‘For the sake of the viewers.’

‘For the sake of the higher salary only.’

Yet, Jennifer gave up her resistance. She kept her cast-wrapped arms away from her body to let the man firmly embrace her chest. Pulled up and firmly held, she left the seat, and her plastered feet touched the soil. With Tom’s support, she remained in the unstable pose, captured by the rigid casts. Quickly, he put the crutches under her armpits.

‘Lean on the crutches,’ he said. ‘And try to stand on your feet.’

Though she was as mobile as a sculpture, Jennifer, swaying a bit, maintained the upright position successfully.

The cameraman gestured to finish the scene. Jennifer reacted, swinging. ‘That’s enough, please take me back to the seat before I fall. This pose is not safe.’

‘Okay.’ Tom helped Jennifer to re-occupy her safe seat in the wheelchair again.

***

In the evening, Tom brought Jennifer home again. Since casts kept all her limbs fixed, she wasn’t able to care for herself any longer, therefore the boss had hired a professional nurse to assist her until the fake casts were removed.

Tom’s car moved out of the parking lot, leaving the plaster-blessed girl in the wheelchair with the nice company of Nurse Colette.

The assistant peered at the woman, who voluntarily turned into a half-mummy. ‘To be honest, Ms Lambertini, I’ve never had a patient who wore a lot of casts although her bones weren’t broken.’

‘Unluckily, the film industry demands huge sacrifice,’ Jennifer said. ‘If they want to have an actress in casts, they’ll have an actress in casts.’ She vainly fidgeted in the seat to find a good place for the fully casted arms and legs.

By coincidence, her neighbour Dennis was coming home at the same time again.

‘New day, new cast?’ he asked, passing her wheelchair.

‘It’s a little bit difficult to explain,’ she said.

Walking beside the wheelchair, which the nurse pushed toward the entry, Dennis kept his eyes on her casts, wondering how big her plaster corset could be under the dress.

‘Would you like to see them in the fullest extent?’ she asked.

Dennis stopped. ‘Well...’ Then he stepped to Jennifer’s wheelchair, and he gently removed the nurse’s hands from the push handles. ‘Ma’am, I’d like to talk about private issues with Miss Lambertini. Would you mind seeing a good movie? Of course, I’ll cover the cost of the ticket. I bet you’ll like “Titanic Returns”, won’t you?’

to be continued

‘This is why I suggested not removing the casts we made yesterday,’ Dr Berg said. ‘Or else we should have started the whole cast-making process over again. Now it was relatively easy to extend the existing short leg casts.’

The increased restraints moored Jennifer to the bed. Bound in rigid plaster from to toes to thighs, the stretched-out legs immersed in the foamy platforms. The new pair of casts was twice as big and heavy as the short ones she had had yesterday.

‘What are these things?’ Jennifer’s fingers tapped the hard surface of the white rinds that disabled her lower limbs.

‘They are called long leg casts,’ he said. ‘To be precise, its official denomination is “dual long leg walking plaster casts”. It is called “dual” because the same casts wrap both of your legs. It is “long” because it encases the entire leg. It is “walking” because they’ve got walking heels attached to the soles, and if you are able enough, you can crutch with them. It is called “plaster” because it is made of plaster of Paris. And it is called “cast” because it is a cast.’

‘Crutching? How?’ The girl wondered, thinking of the legs in absolute confinement. There was no room within the narrowly moulded shells to bend either the knees or the ankles.

‘You can walk and crutch.’ Dr Berg nodded. ‘However, patients with DLLC are advised to use wheelchairs mostly.’

The gigantic shells turned her legs into cement columns that she wasn’t able to flex. The plaster blocks encompassing the feet had been extended, and the solid mass invaded the toe plates to obscure the toes. Her extremities were separately wrapped, and they were kept together to be buried in the rigid unit. Merely the tips of the toes were exposed, becoming lonely pink spots at the end of the white rinds.

‘I can’t even get up,’ Jennifer said. ‘I can’t use my knees, and the casts must be damn heavy.’

‘I’ll help you.’

The doctor’s hands clutched the left leg cast around her ankle, and he tenderly lowered the heavy construction to the floor. Next, he repeated the procedure to remove the other leg from the bed.

Now, with both of the casted legs on the ground, Jennifer guessed how difficult it would be for her to stand up. The massive LLCs immobilized each joint of the legs. She felt disabled especially because they rigid shells denied her from flexing the knees.

‘Okay, Doc. And now?’ she asked.

‘Give me your hand, and I’ll pull you up from the bed.’

Assisted by the surgeon, Jennifer balanced on her feet that the casts made useless. They got to the next stage of the training: Dr Berg gave her the crutches.

‘Don’t forget, Ms Lambertini: be slow and careful.’

When having the short leg casts on the previous day, Jennifer had considered herself a snail. But these bulky fetters, which were weighty and confining so much, made her ability to walk almost impossible. Well, she became a love child of a snail and a sloth.

Jennifer heavily struggled to put forward her left leg. The one-tone-weighted plaster chunks slid forward just a half of an inch. As she couldn’t use the knees, she moved her leg to sideways first, then she put it ahead. Then she advanced the crutches a little bit. Next, she dragged her right leg.

‘I give it up, Doc. These casts kill me.’ Jennifer flinched. ‘They are too heavy, and the totally capture my legs.’

‘Don’t stop, Jennifer! It’s great! You should walk some yards at least. The viewers...,’ the third voice said.

This time, Jennifer didn’t need to move around to recognise the speaker. ‘The viewers will like it, Tom?’

‘Absolutely,’ Tom said. ‘They will surely adore your fight with the casts.’

The doctor rolled an empty wheelchair from the room corner, and he moved it closer to the place, where Jennifer stood stuck. Gratefully, the girl ensconced herself in the padded seat. Dr Berg and Tom elevated the casted legs onto the rests.

Jennifer glanced at the white cast constructions jutting out far ahead. ‘What is the story for today?’

‘The Molehill Productions proudly presents “The Unlucky Secretary”. Andrea and Mike are making the accident scene right now. An unlucky secretary fell down in the stairwell, and she broke both of her legs. This episode depicts how she can work with two long leg casts and a wheelchair in the office.’

‘Are there any outdoor scenes?’ Jennifer asked.

‘No, not. Every scene will be shot in Stage 8. I brought you a new set of clothes, and a pair of glasses, too.’ Tom put the decent costume and the thick-lensed, blue-framed glasses on the desk. ‘You should look like a real secretary.’

‘Do you think that a real secretary looks like this?’ Jennifer peeked at the nerdy-styled spectacles.

‘What I think is not important. According to the preliminary survey with the focus group, the test viewers thought that these are the necessary features of a secretary’s appearance.’

***

Rolled by Tom, Jennifer’s wheelchair arrived at the building. After they entered the fake office, she checked the knee-length dress that wasn’t long enough to conceal the entirety of the long leg casts.

Debilitated by the LLCs, her limbs lay on the cushioned rests. Several rolls of bandages solidly encircled both of the feet and captured the ankles. Between the hips and the toes, the complete legs were in plaster prison, too, and she was banned from using every joint of them.

Preparing for the scene, Jennifer took off the pair of glasses to clean the lenses. ‘For how long must I wear these kinds of stuff?’ She pushed the spectacles back onto her nose.

‘The glasses? Or the long leg casts? Have you already got tired of wearing them? Consider it the easiest job in the world. You wear some casts for a short time, and we’ll do everything for you, and you’ll get even a lot of money for being lazy.’

‘Oh, thanks, that is nice of you. Can you tell me, what kind of casts shall I wear tomorrow?’

‘Read the lower-case letters in the contract next time. And now, let’s the job begin. Jennifer, imagine that this is the head office of a small company, and you’re the one-person back office. Although you’ve broken your legs, you must work hard because your boss hasn’t found a good assistant to substitute you. Please, take your place behind the desk.’

Instructed, Jennifer turned into a zealous office worker, and she drove the wheelchair into the room. On the desk, she found a computer with a flat screen monitor, a keyboard, a mouse and a pile built from dossiers. The cast-coated legs disappeared under the tabletop. However, the desk was tall, so the fresh, snow-white plaster casts were well visible from a certain angle. The cameraman crouched down to take some photos.

Jennifer peered at the director. ‘What should I do?’

‘Type’, Tom said.

‘I can’t type.’

‘Oh, my gosh, imitate typing. You are an actress.’

Jennifer became busy with an urgent task that her imaginary boss had given to her. After pulling the keyboard closer to her, she put her fingers on the buttons, and she sometimes tossed the mouse, while she gazed at the screen through the thick lenses of the spectacles.

‘Answer a phone call!’ Tom said.

The phone set on the desk corner was beyond her arm’s reach. After releasing the wheelchair’s handbrake, she skilfully grabbed the wheel rims, and she rolled the wheelchair away by hand.

‘That was cool!’ he said. ‘Go back and do it once again, please.’

Obeying, Jennifer returned to the starting place and answered the phone call again.

‘Okay, thanks,’ Tom said. ‘Next scene. Print the document you wrote and copy it.’

The director gestured at the multifunctional photocopier machine that stood in the opposite corner of the office. To get there, Jennifer propelled the wheelchair around the desk. However, turning, she heavily banged her casted left leg into one of the feet of the workstation. Quaked by the accident, the monitor nearly fell off the table.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Manoeuvring a wheelchair with such long leg rests is worse than parking a tank.’

After surviving the troubles, Jennifer rolled to the photocopy machine just to meet a new kind of difficulty. Her fingers blindly wandered on the control panel that was higher than her eye level. Sunk in her seat, she just gazed up at the office machine, which towered over her wheelchair. Asking for advice, she turned to Tom.

‘There is a way you can use the machine,’ he said, grinning widely.

‘Do you mean I should stand up? Do you want to break my arms for real?’

‘Dr Berg showed you how you can do it. The viewers...’

‘...will like it?’ she asked submissively.

Jennifer sighed and rolled the wheelchair right beside the machine. She leant forward to clasp her left leg. Removing it from its safe and comfortable place, she gently put the LLC on the floor. Some seconds later, the right leg touched the ground as well. Though her legs were down, the girl was still accommodated in the wheelchair.

Using the padded armrests, she pushed herself up from the seat. However, her first attempt failed, and she sat back on the chair. Next, she chose a different strategy. Finding support on the desk near the machine, she grabbed the edge of the piece of furniture to pull herself up from the wheelchair.

Standing, Jennifer clumsily balanced on the palm-sized walking heels of the long leg casts. Taking only millimetre-length steps, she slowly approached the photocopy machine.

Small steps, careful steps - these four words were in her mind. She inched closer to the destination. Finally, she extended her arm to push the 'Print' and 'Copy' buttons. The machine nicely purred, and the printer spat out five sheets. Total victory!

Tom appreciated this performance. ‘This is grandiose.’

***

Jennifer went home late in the evening. While fighting with the long leg casts and the wheelchair, she literally bumped the jutting-out leg rests into her next-door neighbour at the building entrance.

‘Hello,’ Dennis said, while keeping the door open for the disabled girl. ‘Wheelchair and two leg casts? What happened to you again? Your casts were much shorter yesterday.’

‘Pst! I’ll share a secret with you.’ She giggled. ‘These casts are not real.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My legs are healthy. I must have leg casts because the character I play wears casts in a new movie.’

‘You’ve got your first role? Congratulations.’

‘It’s not my first role, Dennis. But it’s the most important so far. Please don’t tell anybody that my casts are fakes. I love to be helped. Do you want to help me?’ She winked.

to be continued

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Pleased, Dr Berg put the finishing touch to the leg casts, and he stepped away from Jennifer’s chair so that the girl could check the freshly made shells.

‘Have you ever worn any cast, Ms Lambertini?’ he asked.

Jennifer shook her head. ‘Luckily enough, never.’

Her stretched-out legs sank deeply into the pillow piles on the second chair that was pulled within leg’s reach. The girl just started to absorb the new level of restriction. Unbreakable casings held the lower legs fixed, and she couldn’t move either the ankles or the feet a millionth of a millimetre.

Narrowly moulded around the shin, the ankles and the feet, the white plaster shells perfectly captured everything below the knees. At first glance, the chunky short leg casts were an overweighted imitation of a pair of heavy-duty, knee-high boots.

‘Can I touch them?’ she asked with childish curiosity.

Dr Berg nodded. ‘Yes, you can. They are solid enough now.’

Getting goosebumps, Jennifer bent forward to touch the plaster shells. Her inquisitive fingers sensed the thickness of the unyielding layers that tightly covered her legs. Then she caressingly tapped the tips of the toes that poked out of the openings.

‘If you had real injuries, you wouldn’t be allowed to walk. But your legs are healthy, aren’t they?’ Dr Berg offered two elbow crutches to the patient. ‘Please, be very careful. Mr Franklin would kick our asses if you would break your bones for real.’

Obviously, it was a kindly mocking warning but Jennifer suspected that the film studio had an insurance policy to cover such damages. ‘Okay, Doc.’

‘Slid your legs down to the floor. Slowly,’ Dr Berg said.

Transferring the heavy casts, and defeating the confinement wasn’t as easy as Jennifer imagined before. The gravity quickly took over control, pulling her leg down from the chair as soon as she lifted it, and... the cast-rendered right foot suddenly departed from the edge of the seat. The walking heel and the plaster sole landed on the floor, rumbling.

‘Ooops.’ Jennifer raised her head to apologise to Dr Berg.

‘This noise would be enough loud to raise the dead, Ms Lambertini,’ a very dissatisfied doctor said.

‘Sorry, sorry. I promise it’ll be better next time.’ Swearing, the girl put her hand over her heart. She grabbed her left leg, and, concentrating hard, she gently placed it on the floor. The second landing was soft and silent. ‘Is it good?’

‘And now, please stand up. Your casts have got walking heels, so, balance cautiously.’

Putting her full weight on the casted legs, Jennifer stood up from the chair. Wearing restraining leg casts was a strange feeling. She reached for the elbow crutches, and she experimented with taking a short step.

‘One small step for me, one giant leap for the Molehill Productions.’ Jennifer manoeuvred up her plastered left limb.

‘I’m old enough to personally watch the live broadcast of the moon landing. Have a go, Miss Armstrong!’

Urged, Jennifer moved her elbow crutches, and then she fought with elevating her legs that were fettered in weighty plaster boots. She lamely moved her impaired ankles. Left leg, crutches, right leg. Left leg, crutches, right leg.

‘Ah, it’s good to meet our freshly plaster-casted film star.’

Hearing the new voice in the room, Jennifer forgot her limited movement abilities, and she turned around so rapidly that she nearly lost her (casted) footings. Awkwardly sweeping with the crutches in the air, she nearly stabbed the visitor with the tip of the sticks.

‘Hey, we don’t need real casts,’ the man said, jumping away.

‘I’m sorry.’ After refinding her balance, Jennifer moved carefully to see Tom Franklin. The boss of the film production company had receded to the entry, accompanied by a young female.

‘Thank you, Dr Berg. You’ve made a fantastic job. Your patient can walk!’ Tom stepped forward to shake Dr Berg’s hand.

‘Hello, Mr Franklin.’ Jennifer leant on the elbow crutches, and her heavily casted feet almost sunk into the floor.

‘Call me Tom, please,’ he said. ‘Jennifer, meet our stuntwoman Andrea Meyer.’

After the girls greeted each other, Tom pulled a chair behind Jennifer. ‘Please, sit down. I’d like to talk about the Day One. Today’s scene is entitled “The Clumsy Housewife”. The story is about a young woman, who fell off a ladder, and she broke both of her legs. Andrea will play the stunt scenes. And of course, you will be the housewife with casted legs.’

‘Two short leg casts are made as ordered.’ Dr Berg gestured at the shells debilitating Jennifer’s legs.

‘They are too short,’ Andrea said.

‘But confining,’ Jennifer said.

‘Confining? Really?’ Tom said. ‘Then you don’t suspect what you’ll get tomorrow.’

‘And what shall I do?’ Jennifer asked.

‘We’ll make a film about you while you do ordinary activities. For example, going shopping.’ Tom said. ‘The targeted audience must see what troubles the plaster casts can make, so probably they’ll rush to get an expensive health care insurance policy from our client. Can you come with me, or do you need a wheelchair?’

‘It doesn’t hurt to have some practice with these crutches.’ Jennifer stood up from the chair.

Tom watched her uneven walking. ‘Great! That is exactly what I need.’ He stepped forward to open the door for her. ‘There’s my car.’ He showed at the most distant corner of the big parking lot.

Jennifer stopped by the door to estimate the distance, and she calculated the time she would need to get there, considering her snail’s pace. ‘Have you got fifteen free minutes?’

Scene: 1
Slate: 1
Take: 1
Director: T. Franklin
Camera: A. Macey
Date: June 5

‘You walk along the street. At first, you crutch away until you get to the bench. You rest there for a minute, then you get up to get to the shoe shop. Next, you turn around, and you walk back,’ Tom said.

Continuously nodding, Jennifer listened to the instructions, then she watched the crowd in the busy walking street.

‘Everybody stares at me.’ Getting a slight stage fright, she glanced down at the bright white SLCs.

‘Yesterday, you told me you want to be an actress. If you’ll be a star, everybody will keep staring at you.’

‘That’s different.’ Jennifer hit the tips of the crutches against the asphalt. ‘I want people to adore me because of my talent and not because of the casts I have.’

‘Don’t complain. Start walking,’ Tom said. ‘Action!’

After getting used to the load tied to her legs, she found the right rhythm: left leg, crutches, right leg. As she expected, her two casted legs attracted the attention of the passer-by. Following the script, she sat down on a wooden bench in the middle of the street to take a rest for a minute. Then, she departed again to continue her sluggish hobbling. After arriving at the shoe shop, she turned around and haltingly walked back to the film crew.

‘Good! Excellent!’ Tom said. ‘And now, once more, please.’

Jennifer pulled her face. ‘Why?’

‘I need several shots to find the best pictures. Now, there’s a different light condition, and Alberta is looking for a different angle to film you.’

So Jennifer started off to take the second walk. Then the third. Then the fourth.

‘It is enooough.’ She panted heavily after the fifth round. ‘These things are killingly weighty and restricting.’

Tom nodded. ‘Okay. Second scene. Shopping in the mall.’

Seemingly from nothing, Tom rolled a shopping trolley before Jennifer.

‘Where shall I place the crutches?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Be creative. Put them in the trolley. If you push the trolley, you won’t fell.’

‘And now?’ Jennifer looked around in the large supermarket, while the camerawoman was searching for a good place to shoot the scene.

‘Walk along the shelves, and buy anything you like. You’re a full-time housewife, okay?’ Tom said.

Substituting the crutches, the handles of the shopping trolley worked perfectly as an improvised walking frame. Jennifer rolled the cart relatively fast. Since her hands were free, she could easily remove the goods from the shelves to put them into the trolley. Walking past the young girl, most of the customers curiously gazed at Jennifer, who was bound with fetters of two short leg casts. Yet she was getting used to this situation, because she got a lot of help, especially from men.

After she filled up the cart, she hobbled to the cashier to pay the bill, and she rolled the trolley back to the car park. Following her, Alberta Macey filmed the star wobbling across the parking lot.

‘Marvellous performance!’ Tom said to Jennifer, and he waived for Alberta to signal the end of the scene.

Tired after the long walk, Jennifer leant on the crutches that she took out of the trolley. ‘Are there any more job for today?’

‘There’s only one more scene. It’s about one hour’s job. Then I’ll take you home.’

***

‘This is Stage 14.’ Tom showed Jennifer around. ‘From outside, it looks like any other building, but its interior is designed to be a middle-class family house. It’s your new home, Jennifer. Of course, only for the next sixty minutes.’

Jennifer got out of the car, and she began her difficult stroll toward the building. Left leg, crutches, right leg. Bang, clink, bang. Bang, clink, bang. Embedded in firm casts, her ankles started aching again, although they weren’t broken.

Tom led the girl into the living room. ‘Go upstairs.’

‘Gone mad?’ Jennifer looked at the steep staircase, which connected the ground floor with the room upstairs.

‘Please, do it. The viewers will appreciate how hard you struggle.’

Shadowed by the camera operator, Jennifer wearily crutched across the room, and she got to the wooden stairs. Thinking for a while, she leant her crutches against the wall, and she climbed the steps while firmly grabbing the railings.

The hard walking soles knocked loudly, when she put her casted legs on the steps. Grabbing the railing, moving the legs, grabbing the railing, moving the legs... Slowly but safely. She didn’t want to fall and break her bones. Getting the first floor, she turned around and went down as carefully as she walked up.

‘Fantastic,’ Tom said. ‘I think it’s enough for this day.’

***

Keeping the promise, Tom transported Jennifer to her place at the edge of the town. The expensive Chevrolet stopped right in front of the condominium. Jennifer said good-bye to Tom, and she got out of the car, holding the elbow crutches in her hands.

‘What happened to you?’

Jennifer was so busy with manoeuvring with the casts and crutches that she didn’t notice his neighbour, who just materialised behind her back.

‘Just a little accident,’ Jennifer lied to Dennis.

Dennis’ eyes got glued to the rigid coatings that obscured the nice shape of the girl’s legs. ‘Have you broken both of your ankles?’

‘Oh, this is nothing. They will be removed within a couple of days,’ she said, knowing the cast film shooting would last one week or two.

Dennis still gazed at the cast, again. ‘Can I help you?’

How interesting - Jennifer thought. She recalled the experience in the supermarket where several men had been ready to help her... How interesting... In the last three minutes, Dennis paid more attention to her than he had done in the last three years.

Why can an actress with two short leg casts be a more fascinating person than a simple waitress without casts?

to be continued

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The door opened suddenly, and it just swung past Jennifer’s nose. Startled, the girl receded on time. The door, forcefully thrust, knocked the wall, and bounced back to its frame. The young woman, who threw open the door, rushed out of the audition room to the corridor, and she nearly crashed into Jennifer who was waiting there.

Obviously upset by what she saw or heard in the room, she crazily glanced at Jennifer. ‘Run away! As quickly as you can! Those people are complete idiots!’

The first applicant’s audition abruptly ended after only ten minutes. Annoyed, the woman wanted to leave the place so fast that she almost tossed Jennifer away to get an unblocked road. Reacting, Jennifer jumped aside to give a free lane to her fleeing fellow.

The first contestant ran along the corridor, but she stopped. She turned around to warn Jennifer once again. ‘Don’t enter! They are mad and weird!’ Her warnings still echoed even after she disappeared from the hallway.

Perplexed, Jennifer stood still in front of the door. Influenced by the words of the escaping girl, her mind sent inconsistent commands to the muscles: her hand moved toward the doorknob, but her legs slightly stepped away from the dangerous place.

‘Next, please!’ a male voice said from the room.

Her heart pounded, but Jennifer overcame her misgivings, and she decided to give herself a chance. She had already asked for a day off at the restaurant, and she couldn’t miss this opportunity. Oh, what could happen to her? In the worst case, she would leave the room, disturbed and shrieking like the previous young woman. Well, she could leave with it – Jennifer smiled.

With trembling hand, she weakly knocked on the door and went in.

‘Hi,’ she said to the casting panel of two people, who sat behind a small desk. ‘I’m Jennifer Lambertini.’

‘Take a seat, please,’ said the man, who sat on the left side. He was wearing a blue T-shirt and a blue baseball cap. ‘My name is Tom Franklin, and this is Mike Martin.’

‘Hello, Ms Lambertini,’ Mike greeted her.

The man called Mike had a shirt with white and black stripes, and he wore a black-framed pair of glasses. With the pattern, he was similar to a zebra, who had broken out of a zoo to hide in an office from the gamekeepers. The unfitting set of clothes thawed the iceberg of her anxiety and put a short beam on Jennifer’s face.

‘You have surely read the casting call that we published on our homepage,’ Tom said. ‘But please, let me introduce our company to you. We’re the Molehill Productions, and we’re one of the most significant independent, off-Hollywood film production companies. I’m the owner, producer and director, and Mike works as a scriptwriter and second director.’

Jennifer politely nodded.

‘Our specialities are “A-minus” or “B-plus” category crime movies, thrillers and adventure films, made without superstars but with an excellent professional crew. Do you know “The Revenge of the Robot Zombie Aliens”? It was our newest production.’

Not liking this genre, Jennifer didn’t hear about it. Shaking her head, she hoped this lack of knowledge wouldn’t be a disadvantage in the audition.

‘No problem,’ Tom said. ‘Can I give you a DVD if you’d like to watch it?’

Mike fidgeted in his seat. ‘Okay, we’ve talked about ourselves. Miss Lambertini, can you tell us something about you?’

‘My name is Jennifer Lambertini, and I’m 24 years old,’ Jennifer said, although she supposed that all this information was available for them in the CV she had submitted last week. ‘I work in a restaurant as a waitress, but I’m more interested in acting in movies than in serving breakfasts. I’d like to start a career in film industry. As a little girl, I always dreamt about being an actress and...’

‘Have you got any experience in acting, Ms Lambertini?’ Tom asked.

‘Not too much. Generally, I am a figurant in several TV series. Last month, I played the role of a killed teacher in CSI:Seattle. I was lying on the floor with face down, and a knife was sticking out of my back, when the detective found me. Have you seen this episode?’

Jennifer smiled to accentuate the question, but either Mike or Tom didn’t answer. Instead, Mike reached for a pencil, and he wrote something on his notebook. ‘Thank you, Jennifer. Please, stand up.’

‘Do you send me away?’ Jennifer asked disappointedly. If she should leave, it was the shortest film casting in her life. Much shorter than that of the girl who had run away.

‘Oh, no.’ Mike turned up his head. ‘Just stand up from your seat to walk up and down in the room.’ His hand moved toward a remote control of a video camera.

Jennifer did what he said, and she promenaded before the desk. Her dream-fittingly attractive figure absorbed the attention of both men. The dark blue skirt and the dress with short sleeves she wore matched the dark shade of her shoulder-length hair. Her style of walking was so graceful and rhythmic as if her body had followed the rhythm of an inaudible piece of music.

‘Do you insist on pursuing a Hollywood career?’ Tom asked with a dropped jaw. ‘Have you ever thought of being a fashion model? There’s a vacancy at the Francesco’s.’

Uninterested in the opportunity, Jennifer kept walking across the room. ‘No, not really.’

‘Thank you.’ Mike gestured to stop her. ‘It was enough for a short screen test. Please, sit down.’

‘Let’s talk about the job,’ Tom said. ‘In our published casting call, we said that we’re looking for females aged between 21 and 39. Now, in this stage, we must be more exact. This is a film casting for a cast film.’

‘I don’t really understand it, Mr Franklin,’ Jennifer said, confused by hearing too many ‘casts’ in his sentence.

‘If you accept the role, you have to wear various real medical casts for a certain length of time. That’s why we call it a Cast Film Project.’

Listening to the explanation, Jennifer figured out why the other girl had hurried away, condemning these weird blokes. She carefully turned around to measure how far the door was.

Then she moved back to talk to the two-membered casting panel. ‘Is it a fetish thing? Because, once, accidentally, I saw strange pictures on a website, and...’

‘No, it is definitively not.’ Tom laughed. ‘It’s about shooting several ads. We’ve received an order from a well-known insurance company to make a viral marketing video campaign for them. The main message sounds like this: “You should sign a contract with us to get the best treatment, or else you suck with big casts.” Of course, the official slogan will be more sophisticated, but it’s a task for the Marketing Department and not for me. Our job is to make films for them.’

‘What do you mean that I must wear casts?’ Jennifer was still thinking about the central theme of the films.

Mike spoke. ‘You must wear traditional plaster casts that a real surgeon and a real nurse will apply on your body parts. As I’ve told you, the film consists of a series of sketches that are more or less funny. You’ll get different casts each day. We’ll begin with very small ones, and we’ll finish the movie with a rather big one.’

‘How big?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Oh, please, let us surprise you,’ Mike said. ‘Of course, everything is written in the contract.’

‘But there’s something more,’ Tom said. ‘The doctor said the casts shouldn’t be cut off at the end of the day, because it would be a bit difficult to start the whole casting process over again before the next scene begins.’

‘Do I have to go home with plastered arms or legs?’ she asked.

‘It’ll take just a couple of days. You can surely cope with it easily,’ Tom said.

Jennifer was still suspicious. ‘Can you show me your contract with the insurance company?’

‘Of course.’ Tom handed over a thick dossier to her. ‘Believe me, it’s not a prank. And it has nothing to do with sexuality. You’ll be always fully dressed. The scenes are merely harmless videos to advertise an insurance company.’

Jennifer turned the pages of the contract. The long text was typed with lowercase letters, and it was signed officially, too. It seemed convincingly real for her. Though the topic was unordinary, it was hard to reject the offer. She had never been the main character before.

‘And how much is the salary?’ she asked.

Tom told her a sum that was much higher than her highest expectation. Stunned, Jennifer answered with a strong ‘yes’.

‘Okay, Ms Lambertini.’ Tom leant back in his seat. ‘The role is yours. And, please don’t forget to come to the Molehill Film Studios tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, and you’ll get your first plaster cast.’

Two months after Friday the 13th

The heavy-duty wheelchair loudly creaked when it carried the extra load of the mummified passenger. The woman, frozen in a statue posture, sat tightly wedged in the well-padded seat of the specially modified vehicle, kept in place with a wide safety belt that ran over her cast-wrapped chest.

Although her shell was still enormous, Julie Warden’s full body cast wasn’t literally ‘full’ any longer.

Julie gladly recalled the concerto of the buzzing cast saws that the surgeons had used to cut windows for her to the world. After peeling the cast mask off her face, they had removed the unyielding ‘gloves’ and ‘boots’ that captured her fingers and toes.

Horribly, two months after the unluckiest day of her life, Julie was able to see, to speak, to eat, and to move her digits again, but she was denied of doing anything else, because the rest of her body was still stuck in a large, contiguous shell that expanded between the head and the feet. Even the 61st day was merely the end of the beginning of a long recovery.

Yet, Julie was glad. For a week, Mike and she could talk to each other, and she could feel a human touch on her skin again. What else could be better now?

Now, Julie the Mummy was riding the wheelchair in the hospital balcony to enjoy the sunlight that bathed the exposed face. The soft breeze touched caressingly her fingers, which lazily poked out of the narrow slots at the edge of the shoulder spica casts. Feeling like a loving hug of a friend, the airstream was especially refreshing after the eight weeks she had spent in the solitary confinement of the biggest possible full body cast.

The quickly fabricated patchwork of her old, temporary plaster and fibreglass rind had been replaced with a streamlined, fashioned and unified light blue fibreglass set of medical dressings.

Pinning her down to the wheelchair, the leg casts that belonged to the DHS were bent at the knees so that she could sit comfortably in a wheelchair. The limbs, kept far away, occupied the cushioned rests. The lower rims of the LLCs encircled the ankles to leave the feet and toes cast-free.

Entirely encasing the torso, the two shoulder spica casts overlappingly met the double hip spica cast. Merged, the hard and thick coating prevented the woman from even the slightest motion. With arms fixed in SSCs, Julie became embarrassingly reliant on assistance for every ordinary task: putting her glasses on, taking her glasses off... not to mention that she had to be fed like a little baby.

‘Hovering’ in the air at shoulder level, the arms, too, were imprisoned in solid bandages between the wrists and the shoulders. Starting from the body-fitting shell, a pair of rods ran up to the arm casts to provide support to the heavy-weighted SSCs.

And finally, the big Minerva cast made Julie be the Cast Queen of the Hospital, because the rigid headpiece crowned her head. Tightly capturing the head and the neck, it was a full holder, which missed the front part between the eyebrows and the jaw. With an immobilised upper body parts, she was able to look only straight ahead, and she could only guess who or what was beside or behind her wheelchair.

However, this Very Big Cast had caused not only troubles, but it had brought her fame. Julie had starred in an article series, which Dr York had written about her accidents, treatment and recovery. After getting publicity in a recognised medical journal, the head of the SACU had reached what he had always wanted: he had received a higher ranking on the official citation list.

In the mainstream press, Julie was an anonymous star with a blurred face. But Mike had found photos on several websites, which could have been illegally taken on his wife, probably by a nurse or a cleaning person. These images depicted the fully wrapped Julie resting on a bed or sitting in a wheelchair.

Julie, who was the first full-body-casted patient for decades, had become a net meme, and she was kindly nicknamed Full Body Cast Girl or the Friday Girl. Understandably, she hated this hype, since she wanted her old life back. Sadly, her wish was an impossible one, because she couldn’t disappear from the centre of attention, although the clinic staff did everything to protect her privacy.

Nurse Ella, her assigned assistant, appeared in Julie’s field of view to wake her up from daydreaming. 'Mrs Warden, it's time to go back to your room.’

'Nurse, could you give me ten minutes to talk to Mrs Warden?’ a new female voice said.

Ella stopped rolling Julie’s wheelchair. Tightly packed in the Minerva cast, Julie was denied from turning her head to see the visitor, who approached from somewhere behind.

‘Mrs Warden, would you like to receive the guest?’ the nurse asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ Julie said.

Obeying, the nurse pushed the wheelchair beside a wooden table, and she walked away.

'Take a seat, please.' Julie was a polite hostess. She felt at home in the hospital after being there for two months.

Thanking, the visitor occupied the chair opposite to Julie, carefully choosing a position so that she could be in the patient’s visual field, which was strictly limited by the confining head cast.

'Are you a new doctor here? I haven't seen you before.’ Julie glanced at the female, who wore a dark costume, which fitted her long, curly black hair.

Unusually, the unordinary sight of the young woman, who was wrapped and packed in a body-consuming fibreglass cast shell, didn’t impress the visitor too much. 'Why do you think if I'm a doctor?'

‘If you're not a member of the local medical staff, please respect my privacy, and leave this place.’ Julie’s standpoint was as hard as her set of casts.

'Oh, Mrs Warden, I don't work here. I just said only an open-sesame-word so that I could meet you. That word was my name.’

Julie knew who the most influential family in the town was. 'Are you Adam Nilrem’s sister? Did you come here to admire the result of your evil curse?‘ Driven by anger, she nearly broke out of her cast prison. ‘I become your damn creature. You can’t imagine how miserable I am. Half of the people laugh at me. The other half pities me. You b*tch...’

Unoffended, Eve Nilrem listened to the accusations. 'Not a b*tch. But a witch. You're annoyed, and with reason. However, don't you think that every mistake deserves a fitting punishment?'

‘I'd rather choose one year in prison!’ From her inner point of view, Julie’s full body cast was worse than a jail, even without walls, grids and guards. ‘Were you the one who wrote my fake declaration on refusing operations?’

Eve shook her head. ‘No. That document exists on its own. The Curse diligently arranges the things in the world to reach its goal.’

'It sounds very mystical.’

Eve nodded. ‘It works this way.’

‘Why are you actually here? Would you like to take a selfie with me? Or would you like to get my autograph? Look, I can write for a week.’ Julie wiggled her fingers, which clung freely out of the SSCs.

‘I'm here to warn you. To prepare you.'

'Prepare for what? What could more horrible be than a full body cast?’

‘After my brother met you, he asked me to write a spell on you. I wrote the text of the Curse for him, and he read it out loudly. But my handwriting is a bit difficult to read, thus, unfortunately..., uhm... he misread some words.'

'What do you mean?'

'Instead of reading “the next” Friday the 13th, he said “all the next” Fridays the 13th.’

‘What?' Julie’s thundering voice shook the walls of the hospital, and it could be heard all around in the small town, too. ‘Is this sh*t going to happen to me again and again and again on each and every Friday the 13th until the end of the world?'

'I'm terribly sorry. But by the time I noticed the mistake, it was too late to do anything. Adam says one mistake deserves only one round of retribution, but not an endless series of punishment, of course. He's awfully sorry, too.'

'It's your spell. Recall it right now,' Julie demanded.

‘No one can recall his or her own Curse. It's one of the basic rules of witchcraft.'

The firm shell saved Julie from collapsing. 'And what the hell can I do?'

'You should find a magician, whose power is stronger than mine. But it won’t be easy, because I’m one of the best,’ Eve said proudly. However, her smile disappeared when she looked at Julie’s face surrounded in a Minerva cast. ‘He or she can overcome the Curse. Probably.’

'Probably?' Julie cried out at maximum volume, again. Scared by the echoing shouts, a flock of birds flew up from the trees on the hills opposite.

‘Mrs Warden, this is not science but witchcraft. In the realm of magic, nothing is as easy as in the normal world. There are no shortcuts. We've got no certainties but only probabilities. I can give some addresses to you, and your husband should meet these wizards to help you.’

‘And what can I do if they can't help me?’

‘In the future, Adam and I would like to give you any possible support.’

'So, will you pay all my medical costs?' Julie asked.

‘You’ll get the most comfortable full body cast in the world if necessary.’ Eve nodded. ‘And a first-class hospital room, with full and permanent assistance.’

Despaired, Julie kept looking at her body parts, which were frozen in the fibreglass coating. Her shattered bones had just started to mend. She was rather far from being healthy, and now, she had to expect for one more full body cast? That’s not fair!

'And what would happen to me if I find the best sorcerer only after the fifth or sixth Fridays the 13th? I won’t survive it. As soon as the earlier shell will be removed, will I get the next one? Am I going to spend my whole life in casts?’

Eve had just shown up here to talk about the things to come. After enjoying a nice afternoon, now Julie saw her life in ruins. Tragically, her beautiful dreams about a perfect recovery faded away within seconds.

Now, her mind was crowded with images about an endless staying in uncomfortable casts, lying motionless on a bed, or being bound to a wheelchair. Trapped, captured and wrapped by those big, bigger and the biggest shells.

She yelled.

***

Nurse Ella, her assigned assistant, appeared in Julie’s field of view to wake her up from daydreaming. 'Mrs Warden, it's time to go back to your room.’

Julie’s sleepy glance found nobody on the chair opposite. Eve Nilrem had vanished. She got puzzled.

‘You cried so loudly. Did you have a nightmare?' the nurse asked.

‘Ella, has anyone been here?' Julie asked.

'Nobody. Why?'

'Oh, it’s nothing, really. You don't know how happy I am.' Julie beamed at her medical assistant.

'You can be even happier. Mr Warden is here to take you home.' The nurse gestured at the balcony glass door.

Behind the windows, Mike gestured to greet Julie. Replying, she waved her fingers to signal that she noticed him. Tonight would be a very special night – she hoped. After two months, it would be the first night that the wife and the husband would spend together. She could hardly wait for experiencing it.

Hopefully, Eve Nilrem’s visit could have been a bad dream merely. What was a dream, and what was real? - Julie wanted to know. Everything would turn out soon, when the following Friday the 13th would arrive.

The End

Friday the 13th, 8:17 p.m.

Dr York noticed a man, who determinedly marched toward Julie’s room. The head of the Special Accident Care Unit rushed along the hospital corridor, and at the last second, he arrived to stop the unknown fellow from opening the door.

‘I’m terribly sorry, Sir, but the visiting hours are over,’ Dr York said. ‘Please, leave this place, and don’t disturb our patients.’

'I'm Detective Frank White.' The thin and tall man showed his official badge. 'I'm in charge of investigating what happened to Mrs Julia Warden.'

‘Why? As far as I know, there were accidents...’

The cop contemplated. ‘Accidents? Or not? Since morning, I’ve been trying to find an answer to this question, and now I'd like to talk to her personally.’

‘Meeting Mrs Warden would be a waste of time, because she can’t answer your questions because of her injuries. Or rather, because of the extensive casts. Even if she would be able to speak, she couldn't give you clear answers because of the drugs.'

'Oh, drugs?' the detective asked, misunderstanding him.

'I mean the painkillers we continuously administer during the first phase of the treatment.' The doctor corrected the dubious sentence. ‘Mrs Warden must receive a high dose of anaesthetics to numb the pains. And we had to apply a very unusual way of therapy to stabilise all the fractures, so...’

'Oh, I got it.’ The cop nodded.

Dr York displayed a forced smile. 'I think you didn’t get it fully.’

The doctor put his hand on the latch to set the door ajar. Through the ten inches of space between the door and the wall, the two people could glance into the den that accommodated the surgical mummy.

The rough contours of the gigantic full body cast were well visible even in the faint illumination. Wedged into the body-shaped encasement, the sculpture-like creature lay motionlessly on the bed. The strange and unsightly shell swaddled Julie’s gorgeous figure everywhere from the top of the head to the tip of the toes.

The detective sighed. 'Oh, my God! Is she alive?'

‘Of course, she is. And she’s got a good outlook for a complete recovery.’ To finish the show, Dr York closed the door.

‘Do I have any chance to talk to her?’

‘Right now, it is impossible to communicate with Mrs Warden. She is completely sealed in a full body cast. She can’t speak, and she can’t write. And she can’t use even the eye-tracking speech synthesiser because her eyes are covered, too.’

‘I’d terribly need her confession, however...,’ the Detective said, but loud shouts split his sentence in two.

'I want to see my wife!' a crazy man yelled, running along the corridor to get into Julie’s room.

The doctor could hardly be able to prevent him from storming into the room of the full-body-casted woman. ‘Are you Mike Warden?’

Mike nodded, panting.

'That’s great! Mr Warden, I'd like to ask you some questions,' Detective White said in the calm manner he used when talking to the upset relatives of victims.

'Who the hell are you?' Mike flashed a glance of annoyance at the human obstacle, who stood between him and his wife.

'I'm Detective White, and I investigate your wife’s accidents. Please, give me ten minutes to explain everything. It's important.’

‘Why?’ Mike asked. ‘She was involved in a horrible series of accidents, wasn’t she?’

Mr White took a folded document out of his pocket. ‘This is a copy of a declaration, in which your wife refuses to go under operations under certain circumstances. Is it Mrs Warden’s handwriting and signature?’

Although Mike wanted to enter Julie’s room, he couldn’t win against the cop’s sturdiness. He took the sheet over, and after reading the text, he became as puzzled as the detective was.

'Yes, it was written by her. But I don't understand anything. Is she in a full body cast because of her own decision?' Mike crumpled the piece of paper in his hand.

‘Has she recently been threatened?' Mr White asked.

‘She hasn’t got any enemies.'

'And Mr Nilrem?'

‘Julie has made a costly mistake to him, but he hasn't threatened her. On the opposite, he's invited my wife for some kind of holiday.'

'Are you sure? It sounds very strange to get a reward for a mistake. And now, I should talk about something, ahem, occultistic.’ Detective White let out a disturbed cough. ‘This morning, Ms Samantha Edwards called me. Do you know her?’

‘Oh, yes, I do. She is Julie’s secretary at the law firm.’

‘Ms Edwards told me a story about curses and witchcraft.’

'About what?' Mike's jaw dropped. ‘I thought we live in enlightened times. And has this story anything to do with Julie’s accidents?’

'Probably.’ He shrugged. ‘In the beginning, I myself laughed at Ms Edwards’ idea, but after the third accident, I called her back to listen to her story again. Ms Edwards says Mr Nilrem’s sister is a witch, and he probably asked his sister to curse your wife.'

'Miss Edwards has probably lost her mind.’ Mike would have been ready to laugh if his wife hadn’t been in such a miserable state.

‘When I met Ms Edwards in the morning, I told exactly the same expression to her. But, luckily, she didn’t feel offended, and she showed me a couple of articles about strange incidents, which happened to the people, who challenged Mr Nilrem. All these mysterious events took place on Friday the 13th. To warn your wife, Ms Edwards called her at 8 o'clock. But it was too late, and then she called me.'

'Do you want to make me believe that my wife is cursed?' Mike asked.

‘I'm not an agent specialised in supernatural phenomenon. But today, I experienced very weird things. Let’s talk about the first accident: the licence plate number of the vehicle, which collided with your wife’s car, was FR13TH. Can you spot it? It clearly means Friday the 13th.’

Detective White spoke further. ‘Where did the second accident happen? On Route 1313. Can you catch the double thirteens? When was the third incident? Thirteen past one in the afternoon. Or, in other words, it was 13 o'clock 13 minutes. What is the name of the man, who accidentally broke your wife’s fingers? He's called Dr Friday.’

Mike made a pulled face.

‘And the last thing I noticed: the lampshade that didn’t fit the frame, and fell down and hurt your wife’s face was Type 13. It was mistakenly installed to replace the quite different Type 30.’

Mike leant against the wall, while he listened to the story. ‘Honestly, Detective, I still don’t...’

‘Wherever I went, I found the disturbing signatures of Friday the 13th all over. But there was no direct evidence to prove Mr Nilrem’s evil intervention. No fingerprints, no connections, no witnesses, nothing.'

'Oh, my God.' Mike nearly collapsed.

'There are only two explanations remained. Either your wife is the unluckiest woman in the world, or she's cursed. I’m not able to decide it because I'm a simple cop, who fights mundane crimes. Without evidence, I can't arrest either Mr Nilrem or his sister even if they're personally responsible for your wife’s troubles. Therefore, I’ll close her case file soon, and I’ll officially conclude that it all was an odd series of accidents and not a magical conspiracy... I'm sorry, Mr Warden.'

Casting his head down, Detective White left the confused Mike in the corridor with Dr York. Mike put his fingers on the doorknob to go in the room, but the surgeon politely placed his hand on his shoulder.

‘Are you really prepared to see your wife now? You can't see her face, and you can't touch her, either. She's not able to say anything to you. You can't see even her eyes.'

'Thank you for the warning, Doctor... but, please, let me in... I must see her.' Mike finally opened the door, and he went into the room.

Undeniably, the surgeons had told Mike what had happened to his wife, and he had heard a detailed description of every cast that had been applied. Yet, the sight tore his soul apart.

Sixteen hours ago, Julie had been full of life. By now, she had transformed into an unmoving and untalking sculpture.

Julie’s figure, from head to toes, was packed in an overlapping patchwork of plaster and fibreglass casts. Thick and hard segments wrapped each bit of the body, except for two tiny holes for her nose and mouth. However, tubes were put into these openings to feed her, and to assist her breathing. Somewhere in the middle parts, there had to be another gap for the loins, but now a white blanket caringly covered that place to maintain some privacy.

The whole head and most of the face were beneath a yellow fibreglass cast, which seemed to be an unfinished bust obscuring the nice features. Covered by the large bandage mask, the head appeared to be an irregular ball. The front cast was bicolour to indicate the two different accidents. Its upper part, which perfectly disguised the eyes and the nose, was painted pink. The lower unit, between the nostrils and the jawline, was moulded from the same yellow fibreglass as the head cast.

Although the material and the pose of the shoulder spica casts were identical, their colours were strikingly different. The left arm was swaddled in green texture, whilst blue bandages bound the right one. Both of her arms were frozen in the same position, since they were bent at the elbow at a right angle, making her casted fingers pointing upward. To keep the permanent posture, two reinforced support bars were built between the arms and the torso cast.

Her torso was completely dressed in a coat woven from fibreglass. The rough body cast, which engulfed Julie’s eye-catching figure, was as smooth as a flatland, except for twin hillocks, where her breasts stayed under the hard surface.

And the rest of her body wasn’t exposed, either. Swaddled in casts from the loins to the toes, the wrapped legs were held wide apart, and the limbs were linked together with a bar between the ankles.

A massive and overdone long plaster cast encased the left leg. The LLC was smartly integrated into the double hip spica cast, which was mostly carved out of white fibreglass texture. Solidly flowing all over the limbs, the leg casts ended in a pair of oversized, white boot-like casts, which covered the entire feet and included each toe.

The impenetrable barrier of the medical shell perfectly separated the loving couple from each other. Perplexed, Miked peered at the unyielding and unchanging surface.

He clumsily stretched his arm out, although Julie couldn’t sense his touch, since her skin was buried deep beneath the casts. Feeling the stiffness of the unliving exterior, he ineptly caressed the end of the right shoulder spica cast, where he suspected her fingers under the glove-shaped, formless shell.

‘Would you give us a photo of your wife?’ Dr York asked. ‘We can put it on this cabinet.’ He pointed at a piece of furniture beside the bed. ‘Because there is a cast all over her face, it would be much more personal if...’

Mike just nodded. Then he looked at the featurelessly smooth surface of the cast mask, which made his spouse faceless. ‘Oh, honey, I wish I knew how you are.’

‘Look, Mr Warden.’ Dr York gestured at a medical monitor. ‘She can hear you. She's recognised your voice. Please, don’t stop talking to her. Your presence here helps her recovery. Be patient and wait. You’ll get your wife back soon.'

Holding Julie’s casted right hand in his hands, Mike just sat on the chair in silence. He didn’t know what he would talk about. Yet, he started to speak:

'Julie, do you remember our first rendezvous?'

to be continued

Friday the 13th, 8:05 p.m.

One hour and one cast later, Julie was closer to a full body cast than ever before.

To capture the broken fingers and the thumb, the despaired surgeons had added a thick and hard, mitten-like piece of shell to complete her left shoulder spica cast. Nicely arranged in fitting curves all around the fist, the oversized patch of the black fibreglass rind rendered and hid each injured digit.

No talking, no moving, no nodding, no wiggling. The unyielding encasement limited the poor girl’s function to only one thing: she stayed motionlessly inside the body-shaped shell. Perfectly separated, the communication with the outer world was totally cut off until she would get the speech synthesiser.

Although the smashed fingers had been realigned, and now they were separately held in tender paddings, and rigidly secured in solidified dressings, they kept throbbing. Induced by the pain, she tried to cry out, but the narrowly arranged jaw cast prevented her from moaning loudly.

Instead of letting out ear-splitting screams and remarkably harsh swearwords, Julie just quietly wept. She had wrongly believed that the doctors’ job was about protecting and healing patients and not about breaking her bones!

Suddenly, she recalled one of the sentences of the Curse: ‘And you won’t have to move even your little fingers...’

‘It was a perfect forecast, Mr Nilrem. All my fingers are broken.’ Julie gazed sadly at both of her arms, which were bent at the elbows, set in a body posture so that her upper limbs pointed vertically up to the sky as if asking for the God’s help.

A shaken Dr York stood by her bed. The senior doctor of the Special Care Unit was in Julie’s blind spot, because her head was immovably nested into the rock-hard Minerva cast. This time, only two of them were in the room because the other four doctors had left the place right after her latest accident.

Professionally, Dr York extended his arm to test the solidity of Julie’s newest, glove-formed cast, which topped the upper end of the SSC.

Unbearable silence filled the moments before he could say anything. 'We're terribly sorry for this accident, Ma’am. I’d like to tell you that Dr Friday feels absolutely guilty for breaking your fingers. But he isn’t strong enough to personally express his regret.’

‘Because all your fingers are broken and casted, you can communicate only with blinking until we get the speech device. Please, close your eyes once for “yes” and twice for “no”.’

Julie’s eyelids fluttered only once. Due to the eye movement, a river of teardrops flowed along her face to soak the fine paddings under the Minerva cast.

'While you were in the Cast Room, we could contact your husband. I told Mr Warden everything, so he'll be here in an hour to see you,’ he said.

'I don't want Mike to meet me in this big mummy-thing. I must be a creepy sight,' Julie thought. Truly, her whole figure was enveloped in casts from head to toes, except for a tiny place around the eyes and the loins.

What would Mike tell her? What can anyone tell somebody who is packed in a body-sized cast that is mixed from white plaster and colourful fibreglass? But Julie was merely able to blink again to reveal her intent to protest.

'Sorry, Mrs Warden, I can't understand what you want to tell me.’ Dr York scratched his head, seeing the chaotic blinking. ‘Perhaps, we can use a distinct code for each letter. For example, one blink for “A”, two blinks for “B”, and so on. But I think it would be a very difficult and slow way of communication. However, would you like to try it?'

'No,' Julie signalled. It would be surely hard to count the blinks for every character to create even the shortest sentence.

'Ma’am, I don't know what else I can do for you right now,’ Dr York said to the sculpture that contained the young lady. ‘Well, without a doubt, you are the most seriously injured patient in our department. Yet, I must leave you now because I have to check the other patients. But, please, don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on you via this security camera.’ The surgeon pointed at the upper corner of the room.

‘You can't press the emergency button with your fully casted fingers, therefore, a nurse will come into your room to see you in every thirty minutes. Besides, there's an advanced medical surveillance system to check your breathing, heartbeat and blood pressure. Of course, it alerts the doctor on duty in case of any medical emergency. Well, this full body cast made you utterly helpless, but I can't force Dr Friday to come back to assist you. However, soon I’ll designate somebody to be your permanent personal helper.’

With light steps, Dr York moved away from the bed.

Buried in casts, she mapped the place in which she was, trying to explore every spot in her limited view field. On the glaring displays of the medical gadgets, which were installed all around her bed, the numbers continuously changed to chart and register her health status.

After a while, she got bored with watching the lines going up and down on the steady screens, and a weirdly ridiculous idea came into her mind. Maybe, it could be some side-effect of her medicaments and not the first sign of madness – she hoped. Well, can she survive the next six months, buried alive beneath tons of casts without getting a little crazy?

‘We must introduce ourselves, because we must spend hell a lot of time together.’ This was the amusing thought. ‘I’m Julia Warden. Pleased to meet you, Mrs Minerva Cast. How do you do, Mr Double Shoulder Spica Cast? Good afternoon, Mr Body Cast! Hello, Miss Double Hip Spica Cast!’

Intervening, the faint noise of an opening door went through the thick fibreglass helmet that was laid over her ears, and it finished the cast party in her head.

Julie heard the approaching steps of a nurse, who entered the room. After getting to the patient’s bed, the nurse said. 'Mrs Warden, there is a policeman who would like to talk to you.’

'To talk to me? It would be hellishly difficult to talk to me... And what does a detective want me to do?' Julie thought.

She didn’t get any answer, because the medical assistant stepped out of the room. Julie contemplated over the short interlude. Perhaps, the nurse left to show the police officer in. But nobody arrived.

Apathetically, Julie moved the only one body parts she was allowed to control: her eyeballs. Her wide-opened eyes were fixed at a point right above her head, after she noticed something moving on the ceiling. Seemingly, a corner of a big lampshade moved down. And then, one more edge detached from its holder. Next, the third disconnected, too.

Horrified, Julie imagined as this heavy plastic gadget would fall on her. Surely, it will hit her. It is going to crush her face. Locked in the gigantic casts, she couldn't cry for help. Rigid dressings disabled each of her fingers, too, and she couldn’t extend her arms to use the nurse call button.

Was she sentenced to death? Was it the last stage of the Curse? Her drumming heart almost blew up. She prayed that the next accident wouldn't do too much harm to her.

Her pulse and blood pressure skyrocketed, and it kept increasing. The medical monitors checked, registered and reported her alarmed state, and yammering, the devices cried for help in unison on behalf of the muted and cast-captured girl.

The telemetric data arrived at the central room, saying that something strange was happening in the place where Julie stayed. Reacting, Dr York, followed by others, rushed out of the doctors’ room to save their most miserable patient. The head of the department was the first one who burst into her room.

Bewitched, Dr York stood there to see as the large ceiling lampshade loosened on its own, and departed from its place to land on Julie’s face.

Belatedly, he jumped to her bed, and he removed the big and weighty plastic unit that heavily hurt the uncasted segment of the patient’s face. Without any examination, he saw that the object had caused serious damage: Julie’s nose was bleeding, and lakes of tears filled up her eyes.

‘Mrs Warden, I'd like to examine you to know if there's a problem with your eyesight. Please blink twice if you can see my fingers,’ he said.

Obeying him, Julie moved her eyelids twice.

'Please follow my fingers with your eyes.' He slowly moved his right forefinger, at first to right, and then to left. With no delay and with no difficulty, Julie could track the movement.

'It seems your eyeballs aren't wound. That’s good, however, an urgent X-ray is necessary, because I'm afraid that several facial bones are seriously damaged, including the cheekbones, the nose and the forehead. The bones around the eye sockets must be broken, too. Most likely, we’ll create a cast mask to cover your whole face and both of your eyes to facilitate the recovery. I'm sorry, terribly sorry.'

Friday the 13th, 7:14 p.m.

‘Must I spend half a year in this damn full body cast?’ Julie’s terribly loud moaning burst through the jaw cast, and it ricocheted off the walls of the hospital room.


A piece of memory cropped out in her mind. She recalled what Mr Adam Nilrem had told her at the law office. One week ago, she had believed that the old billionaire had invited her to a first-class holiday. Instead, he had covertly threatened her. Or, maybe, had he warned her? It didn’t matter anymore since she had been too stupid to comprehend it. Until this very minute.

Mr Nilrem’s surprise on Friday the 13th wasn’t an invitation letter to a luxury holiday... but hell a lot of medical casts.

‘I’ll arrange a special holiday for you. It will last as long as you can’t even imagine,’ Mr Nilrem had said.
'Oh, yes, indeed. I can't imagine how I survive in a full body cast without talking to anyone and without moving my body. Thank you very much, Mr Nilrem, for this special surprise. However, I didn't ask for a holiday like this.'

‘In an excellent location, dozens of nice people will always be around you to eagerly serve and care for you. Hard-working men and women will be ready to fulfil all your wishes in every second of the day and night.’
'Wow! This is true, too. I dreamt about a summer beach, where good-looking waiters would buzz around me to serve the fine cocktails that they would stir exclusively for me. But the excellent location you mentioned is the best traumatology department in this country, and the nice people are called doctors and nurses in a hospital. They are here to spoon-feed me, and to insert a drinking straw in my casted mouth.’

‘And you won’t have to wave even your little fingers, and you don’t have to speak even a word.’
‘Surely, Mr Nilrem. We can tick off this item on the wish list, too. I kept waving my fingers to communicate but they can't understand why I do what I do.’

‘Perfectly catered and protected.’
‘They regularly give me food and drink and medicine, and they change the diapers and clean my butt. A five-star full service, isn’t it? What else would I need?'

‘Your only one duty will be to relax, and to enjoy the sweet idling.’
‘After such a big cast catastrophe, is there anything else I can do?'

‘No difficult problems, no pressing deadlines, no angry clients.'
'You're absolutely right, Sir. My schedule will be empty for a year. Or two.’

‘It sounds great, doesn’t it? Mrs Warden, just wait for the next Friday the 13th, and you can get what you want.'
‘Indeed, your words woke up my curiosity. And my imagination, too. I could hardly wait for Friday the 13th... and I got this punishment for the costly mistake I made. Do I deserve this treatment, really? You should have sent me to prison for a year instead of putting me into this inescapable casing.’

'Mrs Warden, are you all right?' Dr York stopped Julie’s long contemplation. ‘We should work out a simple way of communication. Because you can't speak now, we should agree on the signs you can indicate with the uncasted fingers. One movement for “yes”, two movements for “no”, okay? Let’s try it! Please, show “yes” if you understand me.'

Called back, Julie returned to the reality from her musing. So, to send a short message about comprehending the doctor’s question, her healthy fingers, which jutted out of the tiny opening of the immense set of the shoulder cast, began to move.

'Excellent!’ Dr York confirmed Julie’s gesture. ‘Using this yes-or-no sign language, our possibilities for a full conversation are greatly restricted. However, Dr Berry has suggested an interesting solution. Do you know the speech synthesiser system made for fully-paralysed patients? We've ordered this device, and tomorrow, we’ll instal it for you.’

‘Its main part is a display to depict all the letter of the alphabet and the list of the most frequently used words and expression. Via the most modern eye tracker technology, you can select the letters or even full words to create sentences. The screen is connected to a speaker, and the medical staff or the visitors can hear your communication.’

'Oh, thanks. This will be like a bridge that can connect me with the world outside. And what is the second news?' Julie asked merely in her mind, because she was muffled by the cast capturing the whole lower face.

'We know very well that long-lasting immobility makes patients depressed. Thus, we plan to reset your casts in two or three weeks so that you'd be able to sit comfortably in a wheelchair. Perhaps, you think it is not a great step forward. But it is. Because you can’t flex your arms, you won’t be able to drive or steer the wheelchair, and you’ll need permanent assistance.’

‘But I bet that you’ll enjoy the short journeys after you’ll get bored with watching TV all the day in this room. The nurses will roll your wheelchair to the balcony or to the garden. The forest around the hospital is extremely beautiful in the middle of the summer.’

‘I'm afraid that I’ll see your nice forest in this fall and winter, too.’ Julie thought about the endless time she would have to spend in the fittingly carved sarcophagus.

‘Unfortunately, your husband doesn’t answer our calls and messages. When we can contact him, we can talk to him about the date when he would be allowed to take you home. You don't need to stay here during the whole recovery time. If your recuperation goes well, you can leave us if you can provide permanent home-care at your place.'

'It's good news, really.' Julie attempted to nod, however, her head remained fixed under the solid layers of the yellow Minerva cast. Even if she would wear a head-to-feet shell, she would have liked to stay in a familiar place.

‘Perhaps, I've talked about every subject but one. As I said, the traditional cast treatment, which we applied to treat your injuries, is a rarity in recent medical history. Believe me or not, I myself have never seen such a large cast although I've been working as a doctor for three decades.’

‘Moreover, I've never read a medical case history like yours. None of my colleagues has found anything similar in the archive, either. Therefore, I decided to write a professional article series on your accidents, injuries, treatment and recovery. It will be published in a recognised medical journal. Tomorrow, we’ll take some additional photos and videos on you. Of course, the documents about you will be anonymised, and all your personal data will be strictly protected, and your face will be blurred, too.’

'Oh, it's very nice of you to ask me. So, I’ll be a nameless star not for fifteen minutes but for fifteen months? I don't mind.' Agreeing, Julie signalled 'yes' with her fingers.

‘Thank you for your permission,’ Dr York said. ‘And, finally, I share one more piece of good news. I've appointed one of my colleagues to give special attention and care to you. He’ll monitor your health state and recovery in 24/7. Please, let introduce yourself, Doctor.’

Dr York turned to the third resident surgeon, who stood in the background until now.

‘I feel privileged to be your personal specialist, Mrs Warden. My name is Dr Kevin...' The man interrupted his debut to move closer to the bed of the mummified Julie so that the woman could clearly see his face despite the limited field of vision.

He focused so hard on her stunningly big and confining casts that he missed the third step. Clumsily, the doctor’s foot kicked the heavy steel stand, which stood near the bed to hold an infusion bottle.

Thrown out of balance, the stand couldn't decide to which direction it would fall. For a blink, it danced in the air, but finally, it chose its future course, and it moved toward the bed. Inclining, the weighty tripod precisely targeted the fingers on Julie’s left hand, which protruded out of the gap of the shoulder spica cast. After coming down, the heavy stand hit and smashed each the digits, which were free, uncasted and unharmed. Until now.

Previously, Julie had thought that nothing could be worse than the full body cast in which she was embedded. She had been terribly wrong. ‘Bad’ turned into ‘worse’, and her freshly twisted extremities began aching unbearably. The fire of throbbing relit, and it scorched every wounded body member, too. Bullied by the pain, Julie almost went mad.

The accident happened so quickly that the doctor could finish his sentence only now:
'My name is Dr Kevin Friday.'

to be continued

Friday the 13th, 6:43 p.m.

Around quarter to seven in the afternoon, Julie left the cast room for the third time on this day. Contemplating, she slowly understood the terrible formula of the bizarre accident series in which she was involved. The more time she woke up, the more casts she had.

She squeezed her eyes shut so that she couldn’t see the new casts. Ignoringly, she hoped that the latest mishap in the hospital hall had been merely a nightmare. However, the complete motionlessness indicated that something bad had really happened to her.

Blindly, the broken girl moved her left arm to feel the new rind. But the limb, which had been healthy in the good old morning hours, was securely held now. And her head was stuck, too. No movement. ‘Oh, God, I’m paralysed!’ The terrifying impression triggered a false alarm ring in her mind.

Although she was completely locked, Julie sensed the irritating tickle of the soft paddings all over her body, and she felt the unbreakable hardness of casts of immense quantity. The panic subsided. It wasn't paralysis. Only one explanation was left: she had to be wrapped by hell a lot of casts, be they fibreglass or plaster.

Finally, Julie had the courage to open her eyes. Right then, her attention was caught by something unexpected. But it wasn’t too unexpected, considering her (im)mobility. Horrifyingly, almost each body member was rendered in casts. Filling up most of the field of view, a pair of gigantic shoulder spica casts fixed her arms in the air, as if the poor limbs had reached out for the stars.

On the left arm, the solid texture didn’t wrap the fingers, but the digits orphanedly jutted out of the well-stuffed gap at the edge of the green fibreglass SSC. The pose of the left shell mirrored the other one, but its colour differed, since it was painted blue as dark as the ocean on a sunny day. Also, this confining cast was a bit longer due to its extension, which was similar to a boxing glove, totally concealing each of the fingers and engulfing the thumb.

The double shoulder spica cast absolutely undermined and nullified her autonomy. From now on, Julie couldn’t do anything without assistance. She would have to be fed, cared and served in all minutes... for how many days? ...or weeks?

The shoulder spica casts merged with the body cast that embraced her trunk between the neck and the pelvis. Somewhere around the loins, there was a huge uncasted area, however, a piece of cloths was drawn over this segment to hide the most private organs.

Uncovered by a blanket, the cast-wrapped legs were exposed. The double hip spica cast firmly embedded the pelvis, and heavy and restricting long casts were moulded around the lower limbs, swaddling them from the hips to the feet.

For some reason, a white fibreglass cast contained the right leg, but the other one was fashioned from plaster. To give stability for the shell and to keep the limbs wide apart, a long bar bridged over the broad gap between the kept-apart ankles, forming a letter ‘A’ turned upside down. Secured in tractions, the legs were pulled up in the air at forty-five degrees.

Intruding into Julie’s cast world, people stood around her bed and gazed at the patient who was almost fully mummified. She struggled to ask a question but no voice left her tightly shut lips.

'Don't try to speak. Your jaw is broken, and it's casted,’ someone said.

For Julie, it wasn’t easy to listen to him, as something thick put over her ears filtered his words. She tried to turn her head to see the man, who talked to her, but her neck was narrowly captured.

'Hello, Mrs Warden! Welcome to the Special Accident Care Unit.’ The speaker stepped closer to the bed. ‘My name is Dr York, and I’m the head of this department. He's my deputy Dr Jones, and there are three resident doctors from the local medical university.’

As Dr York introduced the team members, they came in and went from Julie’s limited field of vision.

‘I planned to meet you in the morning, right after your accident, oh...' Dr York stopped to glance at his notices. ‘...after the second accident. But the unfortunate incident, which happened to you in the foyer, derailed my schedule.'

'Because you can’t speak, I’ll talk about every possible topic, and I’ll try to find answers to all the questions you can’t ask. At first, let’s begin with your injuries. During the three accidents, you suffered several fractures, therefore we had to apply this extraordinarily large set of medical casts that encase most of your body.’ Dr York bent his head down to apologise for putting the patient into such a big sarcophagus.

‘In general, we don't use casts that are as huge and thick as yours. However, there’s an acceptable explanation for this decision. In your medical file, we've found your declaration on refusing operations if they aren’t necessary to save your life. Mrs Warden, your fractures were serious but your life wasn’t in danger. So, we followed the instructions mentioned in your statement.'

'No! No!! No!!! I've never made such a nonsense statement! It must be faked. I want you to operate on me right now! Free me from this cast prison! Free me, please!' - This was what the mummified woman tried to shout, but just some unclear groaning came through the tiny mouth gap of the cast, which secured the jaw. Upset, she waved heavily the uncaptured fingers of the left arm to communicate.

The doctor heard the inarticulate sounds, and he noticed the quickly moving digits at the end of the cast-coated left arm. ‘Don’t worry, Ma'am. We respect your will, no matter how strange it is. We won’t perform any surgery under any circumstances.’

'Oh, my God.' Fighting, Julie pressed vainly her aching limbs against the casts to break out from the body-sized prison. 'So, they don't dare argue with a lawyer.'

‘I suppose that you’d like to know how you look like,’ Dr York said. ‘Therefore, I’ll show you a couple of pictures taken on you. Dr Williams, please? Would you mind showing the photos to Mrs Warden?’

The boss turned to a junior doctor standing next to him. Asked, the young fellow opened a dossier to take out the colour photos, which were printed on full-sized pages, and he went to the patient to hold them in front of her face.

The first picture depicted Julie’s legs, which were enfolded in massive shells to stop her from moving the limbs. In the next images illustrating the corset-like cast, she discovered how large and tight this block of cast was.


Starting up from the finely sculpted body cast, the chunky layers of the head cast locked the neck. Appearing to be a fittingly woven cap, the cast enclosed the whole skull, just giving a free front part for the face only between the eyebrows and the tip of the nose. To capture the broken jaw, the cast ran up to the nose to engulf the lower segment of her face, including the whole mouth, and it made her totally numb.

'This is not Julia Warden. It's the mummy of Pharaoh Juliehotep from the 13th Dynasty.' - Julie got freaked out by the photo series.

Dr York spoke once again. ‘The ordinary people call it a full body cast, but it's not the proper medical term. Your contiguous shell combines three types of individual casts. The first is a double hip spica cast to encase the pelvis and both of the legs. The second is a double shoulder spica cast to protect the arms, and finally, this is a Minerva cast to stabilise your head, neck and backbone. And to provide additional security for the casted body members, these casts perfectly overlap each other, so there isn’t any gap between them.’

‘And there are some necessary auxiliaries.’ His explanation was so calm as if he had conducted an inventory control in a warehouse. ‘We applied spreader bars between your legs, and there're two supporting rods to connect your arms to the torso cast, as well.'

'Next, let’s discuss your accidents.’ Dr York turned the pages of a thick book, which was merely the first volume of Julie's unusually long medical case file. ‘Well, in your first accident, which was a car crash, you broke your ankles. Then you got two short leg casts. A plaster one and a fibreglass one.’

‘While you were transported back to your home town hospital, the second accident happened. A sports car collided with the ambulance, and you suffered several more fractures all along the right side of your body: the knee, the thigh bone, the pelvis, the arm, and every finger was broken.’ He listed her casts. ‘One of the short leg casts was replaced with a fibreglass one-and-a-half hip spica cast... and an additional blue fibreglass shoulder spica cast was applied, too.’

‘Then the third accident took place in our hospital. The falling construction waste hit your left limbs especially. The knee, the femur and the left arm. Furthermore, you injured the left shoulder and the left side of the pelvis. And, as the accident report says, a brick hit and broke your jaw... According to the X-ray images, unfortunately, there is a light fissure in your vertebra as well, that’s why your neck and head is encased in a Minerva cast.’

Julie frowned.

'Don't worry, Mrs Warden. Your backbone will heal perfectly, and it doesn't cause any paralysis. And there are some more pieces of good news, too: the old trunk cast protected the internal organs. Luckily, either the right arm or the right leg wasn't rebroken. Therefore, in the cast room, we didn’t need to add new casts.’

‘...or else would my leg and arm be double-casted?' Julie taunted, untold. And she imagined a two-layered cast, which would be twice as thick as the recent one, turning to her sight into that of a bulkily built woman.

‘Finally, some words about the healing process.’ Dr York changed the style from talkative to serious. ‘To be honest, your recovery will take a very long time. Considering the complexity of the injuries, you must stay in this so-called full body cast for five or six...'

'...weeks... It would actually be a very long and boring time.' Julie already hated her new helpless, motionless and speechless mummy-life.

'...for five or six months. Or a bit longer.'

The end of the doctor’s sentence tore apart Julie’s dreams about a fast escape from the maximum-security plaster-fibreglass prison. She waived her unbound fingers in despair. 'For how long?!'

‘We’ll reduce the size of your casts, slowly and carefully. At first, in about six weeks, we’ll remove the cast covering your fingers and toes.’ The doc gently poked the glove-like cast that neatly obscured the right hand.

‘After two or three more months, the shoulder spica casts will be reduced into long arm casts. But to care the badly-injured pelvis, and to be careful about the spine fissure, you must wear a composite shell of the Minerva cast and the double hip spica cast for an extended period of time. It’s really hard to predict for how long. Maybe, for about nine months. Don’t give up, Mrs Warden. You’re in the best place to be on the mend. After several sessions of physiotherapy, you’ll be the same again... within two years at the longest.'

to be continued

Previous (Part 3) -- Next (Part 5) -- Story Guide -- Story List -- Gallery Folder -- Length: 8 min.Friday the 13th, 12:50 p.m.

Waking up, Julie found herself in a hospital bed for the second time on that day. Her dizzying head was full of unclear images about a strange accident. Next, she recalled the busy surgeons nervously hopping around her in the cast room. The memories faded away. She came out of the blur, but she couldn’t get up. Heavy restraints denied her body from following the command of the awakening mind.

Julie opened her eyes to see only white things. White was the colour of the ceiling above her bed. The walls were white, and finally, even the blanket, which covered most of her body, had the same colour.

Then she spotted a thing, which pushed her out of balance. Her right leg was restricted in something large, heavy and uncomfortable. The fully casted lower limb hung in the air before her. Suspended in an elaborated sling, it was elevated up to forty-five degrees, connected with wires to a pile of weights, which floated at the other side of the bed frame. Discreetly, the upper end of the leg cast disappeared under the white blanket.

The situation of the other leg was different. Far away from the hovering LLC, it rested on the top of a pillow hill, rendered in a familiar set of plaster of Paris from knee to the base of the toes. The classically made SLC fittingly encased the shin and concealed the foot. The toes fearingly stuck out of the toe opening to rest on a plate that bulged out of cast sole.

Once again, Julie attempted to sit up but she remained lying on the bed. All over her torso, she sensed the perfect capture of a piece of medical amour. To check it, she routinely moved her right arm to fold the blanket... however, to her greatest astonishment, this body member was stuck in a massive chunk of cast, as well.

The huge fibreglass shell consumed up the entire limb to end in an extension that seemed to be a white boxing glove. The SSC secured the complete shoulder, the elbow and the wrist. It engulfed even the thumb and each of the fingers, which were flexed toward the palm. A thick bar connected the bent joint with a place, which remained invisible beneath the blanket.

Using her unharmed and uncasted left arm, Julie tossed the cover away. And she cried out.

A massive and rigid medical ‘pullover’ cladded tightly her body. Woven from blue fibreglass, it was the big base of the SSC, and it locked her torso between the loins and the neck. Besides, she spotted even the starting point of the bar, which ran up from the body cast to link it with the cast of the right arm.

The roughly made torso cast wasn’t streamlined and smoothened enough to follow every curve and bend of her figure. Dissolving Julie’s nice shape, mainly it was a flat, perfectly forged piece of shield, except for the place above the breasts, where it formed a pair of roundish hill-like constructions.

Sadly, the body cast didn’t stop at the pelvis, since it strangely merged with the other huge-sized shell. Disabling the lower parts, Julie sported a one-and-half hip spica cast, which embraced the hips up to the belly button, and it expanded down to mould her right leg around, too.

But why did she have so many casts? Julie clearly remembered the car accident and the two short leg casts she had worn in the morning. Beaten by the questions, she almost forgot to mourn the super holiday that Mr Nilrem had promised to her.

And her future? Halfly-mummified, going back to work would be out of the question for a while. The poor girl gave the impression of a helpless cast sculpture, instead of appearing to be an agile and competent corporate lawyer.

After checking her casts, Julie discovered the surrounding place. She found a few things on the cabinet beside the bed. A pair of glasses (miraculously unbroken), a glass of water (half full) and the alarm button (red). However, all of the items were unavailable, put far beyond her left arm’s reach. Restricted, she felt terribly dependent on assistance.

The confining shells pinned Julie down to the bed. Secretly, she wished for a wheelchair to be mobile. If someone had told her yesterday that her greatest desire would be a wheelchair in the next afternoon... She could have thought the one had been kidding.

The best time, when Julie almost reached the edge of reason, a male nurse entered the room. He walked to her bed, and folded the blanket to hide the immense-sized integument, which overlaid her body.

‘Good morning, Mrs Warden,' the orderly said. ‘My name’s Eric LaPorte.’

Disoriented, Julie mumbled about her ‘unnecessary’ casts. ‘What happened to me? I've had a car accident... but only my ankles were broken and... This must be a mistake...’

'I’m so sorry, but this isn't a mistake. Have you forgotten the second accident?'

‘What accident?' she cried out.

'An amok-running driver has collided with your ambulance. It’s a wonder that you survived the crash.'

'Oh...'

‘I was sent here to take you to the SACU.'

'SACU?' Julie frowned.

‘I’m sorry for using the local jargon. Here, SACU means Special Accident Care Unit. This is our newly established department for patients with multiple injuries or complex fractures.'

‘Where am I now?' she asked.

‘This is the Accident Surgery Unit. In the SACU, Dr York meets you, and he and some senior doctors tell you everything about the accidents, the injuries, the treatment and the healing process.’

‘That’s good. I’ve got a lot of question.’

Eric stepped closer to the bed. ‘Okay, Ma’am. Then, let’s go there.’

Standing behind the headboard, Eric gently pushed Julie’s moveable bed, which had small wheels. As they crossed the room, Julie didn’t see any patient in the other beds.

‘You were alone here, Mrs Warden,' Eric answered the untold question. 'It was an unusually quiet day.'

'If I'm so famous, why haven't the doctors come here to see me personally?'

‘All the surgeons are busy with treating a guy with third-degree burn injuries. It's the madman, who drove the car, which crashed into your ambulance. His car caught fire.’

'Oh, poor man!' she whispered. For her, even her big plaster and fibreglass shells were better than an all-covering bandage for burn injuries.

'Don't feel any sorry for him, Ma’am. He was... is a serial killer, who killed twelve people. You could have been his 13th victim.'

Julie’s grief turned into hate. Secretly, she cursed the fellow, who had ‘presented’ the additional casts to her. 'Are you kidding?'

'No, I am not, Ma’am!’

Loaded with the serious topic, the two people quitted chattering, and the bed silently rolled along the corridor.

Kept in casts, Julie was forced to be in a half-sitting position in the bed, thus she could see the lift doors approaching. 'I hope the SACU isn't on the 13th floor.’

Eric grinned. ‘Indeed, it would be very strange to stay on the 13th floor on Friday the 13th, but I guarantee you that our destination is on the third floor.'

The first stage of the journey ended when the nurse and the patient arrived at the elevators. The orderly suddenly stopped pushing the bed, and he gestured at a sheet of paper glued to the lift door, saying 'out of order'.

'And now? I hope you don’t want to roll this bed down the stairs.’ Julie wasn’t sure that she would survive the adventure.

‘Surely, not.’ Eric scratched his head to find another route. ‘There are other lifts in the second wing of the facility. But we must cross the central hall to get there.’

‘And this hall... is it usually full of people?'

‘Why do you ask it?’

'I don't want anybody to stare at me.’

‘Hm, unluckily, that place is rather crowded, because there is the main reception desk there. Sorry, Ma’am, but we’ve got no shortcut.'

Eric moved the bed around, and he pushed it to the opposite direction. Five minutes later, the small expedition was ready to enter the foyer.

‘How do I look like?' With vanity, Julie cared about her appearance.

'Fantastic! I bet that everybody will envy you.’

Julie awarded Eric with a smile for his kindness, although she was more similar to a half-made statue rather than a fashion model.

The place seemed to be a hall of a hotel and not that of a hospital. Noise filled up her ears, and lights blinded her eyes. Julie could hardly see the ceiling of the spacious room high above her.

All around, each of the five floors had its own grandiose gallery. On the ground, a U-shaped receptions desk marked the heart of the hall. The place was far from full, but Julie sensed as the people’s attention got locked on her. Surely, a young female patient, whom a collection of huge casts encapsulated, was the highlight of the free daily freak show.

'Please, hurry,' Julie mumbled to speed Eric up.

But Julie’s plan about the quick crossing failed. Eric and Julie (including the bed and her casts, too) were in the middle of the room, when the receptionist spotted them.

Heavily waving his arms, he called the orderly's attention. ‘Hello, Eric, come here, please! I've been hunting for you since last morning!’

Eric halted to see the sheet of paper, which the receptionist kept waving in the air. Seeing the hesitation of the male nurse, Julie spoke. 'Oh, no. You can’t leave me here exposed.’

'It's very, very important, Ma’am. This must be the parking fine that I always forget to settle... I’ll be back in a moment.'

Apologising, Eric galloped to the reception desk. Left alone, she rested in the bed, which parked right under the galleries.

Meanwhile, Eric met the receptionist. After a glad discussion, he took over the document. However, their happiness faded away. Looking back at Julie, suddenly both men’s face got pale. Though fear froze the muscles in his body, Eric started to run toward the bed to save her. But he started up too late.

A reconstruction project was being carried out in Room 313 on the third floor. Removed from the room, the debris, the broken bricks and the concrete pieces were stored and piled in a row of wood boxes that waited for being taken away.

A cleaning vehicle hit the biggest box and kept pushing it against the railings of the gallery. Damning, the bumbling driver got off, but he couldn't tame his rebelling vehicle. As if an invisible man had been pressing the gas pedal, the small car didn’t stop tossing the container. Finally, the fence broke, and the contents of the box poured down to the floor. To exactly the same place, where Julie was.

After the first stone hit her, Julie screamed, and she raised her healthy, left arm to protect her face. Bricks and pieces of concrete hailed down from the gallery for long seconds, making the horrible concerto of thumps, bangs and cracks, as the hard rain shredded the casts and slapped the exposed body members.

To escape from the hailstorm of stones, Julie tried to turn away, overwhelming the confining plaster and fibreglass casts on her limbs and body. But the fidgeting movement and the weight of the debris falling from above turned the bed upside down.

On the floor, Julie got buried by a mountain of construction waste.

Eric yelled. 'Help! We must save her, and we must take her back to the surgery!’

But there weren’t volunteers to join him. Men and women stood frozen, got shocked by the sight of the unthinkable accident. Looking around once again, by chance, Eric flashed a glance at a large display on the wall opposite. He could hardly believe his eyes. The time was thirteen past one in the afternoon.
13:13

to be continued

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