Amy Brashear - The Incredible True Story of the Making of the Eve of Destruction

The bus driver tried to get a better look. He stepped closer to the mountain’s edge and leaned forward. But he lost his footing and started to fall. Tyson ran over there to help. I screamed. He grabbed the bus driver’s waist, and they both fell back.

“What’s going on?” Owen asked. I stood beside him. He reached out for my arm but found my boob instead. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch that.”

“The bus driver almost went over the mountain—with Tyson,” I said.

“What?”

“The bus driver almost went over the mountain with Tyson,” I said again.

“We need to radio for help,” the bus driver said.

“Why?” Dylan asked.

“I dropped the keys.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” the director repeated. “We’ll lose half the day, and we still have the girl’s death scene.”

Dylan grabbed the walkie-talkie out of the director’s back pants pocket and pushed down the button.

Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”

Nothing.

Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”

Still nothing.

Dylan: “Dylan for Skeet. Copy?”

Again, still nothing.

“They’re probably busy dealing with that,” Freddy said, pointing to the smoke in the distance.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe the explosives knocked out power,” Terrence said.

“That’s probably it,” the director said. “It was a big explosion. I bet it looked great on film.”

“Yeah, it looked great,” Dylan said through the camera lens.

Tyson and the bus driver slowly walked back over to where we were. They were still visibly shaken.

“You guys okay?” I asked.

“I will be—eventually,” Tyson said.

“I don’t know about him, but I need a clean pair of britches,” the bus driver said, and Tyson agreed.

“Well, Tyson, I’m glad you didn’t go over. A good assistant is really hard to find,” said the director as Tyson gave him a sidelong glance.

Communications were interrupted. The three did not know if the United States had counterattacked the Soviet Union. Was there time? And if so, did it have a similar devastating effect?

We were stuck on Crow Mountain. We were cold, dirty, thirsty, and hungry.

“There’s food on the bus,” Tyson said.

Terrence ran onto the bus and went down the aisle, looking at each seat until he got to the back of the bus.

“No food,” he said, crying. “There’s no food.”

“It’s only been a couple of hours,” Freddy said.

“Oh, the food’s in the van with Kitty and Raymond,” Tyson clarified.

“And where are they?” Freddy said, climbing off the bus.

“They have to be on their way,” Tyson said, taking the walkie-talkie and changing the station.

Tyson: “Tyson for Kitty. Copy that?”

Nothing.

Tyson: “Tyson for Kitty. Copy that?”

Still nothing.

Tyson: “Tyson for Kitty. Copy that?”

Again, nothing.

“Dead zone, remember?” Max said.

Tyson stuck the walkie-talkie in his back pocket.

“I’ve got some food,” Max said. “Crew left some last night, and I’ve got some left over from the party here a few weeks ago. Want some?”

“What kind of food?” Freddy asked.

“Junk.”

We followed him into the cave.

“We have nothing to drink, except…” Max said, smiling and winking.

“You’re freaking me out,” Freddy said.

“Help me, Terrence,” Max said.

Terrence followed him down into the cave where the moonshine was kept. So with the help of Terrence, Max brought up a wooden box with ten mason jars filled to the rim with hooch. I helped pass them out.

“Is this what I think it is?” the director asked.

“Wait, what do you think it is?” Max asked.

Dylan grabbed his, unscrewed the lid, and took a whiff. “Whoa, that will put hair on your chest.”

“Who cares?” I said. “I’m already gross.”

“No, you’re not,” Owen said.

“Funny, she’s being complimented on her looks by a blind man,” Freddy said, taking a swig of his drink.

“Hey, I’m not blind, I just can’t see.”

“That’s the definition of a blind man.”

We all drank—and drank, and ate, and ate. Laughed and told jokes. Max went back down with Freddy and carried up more mason jars full of moonshine.

“Do you want any?” I asked the bus driver.

“No, I’m driving,” he said, shaking his head.

“More for us,” Mr. Edman said, toasting to himself.

“This is good stuff,” Dylan said, drinking and then crunching on a handful of Doritos.

“Yeah, it is,” Max said, putting two crates down on the ground.

“Pass it over,” Owen said, slurring his words.

Terrence grabbed one and brought it over to him. “Here you go, man,” he said, unscrewing the lid.

“Thanks, man.”

We were eating so much junk food that my mom would be disappointed. She didn’t need to know about the alcohol. She would be so angry.

I was learning how everyone acted when drunk.

Me: sleepy drunk.

Terrence: stupid drunk.

Freddy: flirty drunk.

Owen: smart-ass drunk.

Max: happy drunk.

Bus driver: designated driver.

Tyson: gassy drunk.

Dylan: sick drunk.

Director Edman: angry drunk.

We were like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, except not—there were eight dwarfs.

I found a corner of the room and snuggled up with a blanket I found. It smelled of urine, but I didn’t really care. It was cold.

“It’s snowing,” said Tyson as he made his way back into the cave after relieving himself behind a patch of bushes.

“Snowing. Snowing. Snowing,” Freddy sang as he danced around the cave, spilling moonshine all over his shirt.

Dylan picked up his camera and filmed.

I got up and looked outside. Max and Terrence followed me and danced in the midst of the snow.

“Come on, guys, it’s so fantastic,” Freddy yelled.

Everyone went out. Even Owen, but he held on to the outside cave wall.

“Today we celebrate our Independence Day,” Terrence yelled, raising his arm and his glass of moonshine.

“That’s a great line. Remind me to use that line for a movie one day,” the director said, clinking jars with his.

“Only if I can have credit.”

“Of course.”

The bus driver found a pair of binoculars on the bus and was using them to search for Griffin Flat. It was still smoky.

“Can I take a look?” Freddy asked.

“Sure,” he said, handing them to him.

Freddy looked and moved closer to the edge.

“Watch your step,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said.

BOOM.

“What was that?” I asked, tripping on a rock and falling to the ground.

BOOM.

“Yeah, what was that?” he asked. “Oh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Freddy offered his hand and helped me up off the ground. He smiled. I smiled. This would be the point in the movie where the hero and heroine kissed. Instead, this is the point in the story when I write, The hero walks away, leaving the heroine with dirt on her butt .

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

“Fireworks?” Owen said.

“Well, it sure is pretty,” I said, picking the tiny rocks out of my palm.

“But I wish they would have used different colors than red,” Freddy said.

We all stood on the edge of Crow Mountain watching red fireworks light up the sky as it snowed.

“We need some music,” Terrence said, dancing to the music in his head.

“I can make that happen,” Max said, and ran back toward the cave.

We followed him and took the binoculars with us.