Last Days Read Free

those books that every other woman had been reading on the London Underground for one summer. How long ago that summer was escaped him, but he’d never seen the book being read in public since.
    As well as The Message , the company produced a massive backlist of books, DVDs, CDs and merchandise that had a contemporary, life-affirming, self-help USP attached. The company claimed their products were ‘groundbreaking’ and
    ‘definitive’ and ‘revelatory’. But the brand struck Kyle as being very Californian, a bit vulgar, and dated lo-tech, magic-bullet-chicanery, while also fortifying his aversion to bad science blended with spiritual horseshit. But it had come to this; with the exception of porn, he’d dropped to the bottom of the film industry.
    His documentary about the American Metal Core scene, Shredding , had been shown dozens of times on cable tele -
    vision, been a hit at festivals in 2006, and was still referred to as a cult classic in the music press; his film about witch-craft at a Scottish University, Coven , had got him into trouble for defamation, but it was also a film once shown on BBC2
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    LAST DAYS
    to considerable acclaim; thirty thousand people had bought the DVD of his film about the European Black Metal scene, Reigning in Hell ; and two hundred thousand people had downloaded his documentary, Blood Frenzy , about three missing British hikers who vanished in the Arctic Circle: all of this success was real. Not bullshit. He’d walked the walk.
    He had a real and enviable filmography. But the distributors for the first three films claimed he owed them money: fifteen grand. And he still carried another ten grand’s worth of production debt from Coven like an anvil upon his increasingly rounded shoulders. In total, his last self-financed film and unpaid rent had left him thirty thousand pounds in debt on a variety of credit cards and loans. A day of fiscal reckoning was nigh. Its anticipation made him incapable of a single undisturbed moment of happiness. It had also stolen his ability to relax, which seemed more hideous than losing the ephemera of joy. Something, he noted, guaranteed by the likes of Revelation Productions. Happiness: they promised that in spades. So maybe he should hold out for a DVD on tantric sex.
    ‘What makes you think I’d be interested in a cult?’
    ‘I’ve seen your work. It has a refreshing openness. When dealing with the niche, the derided, the forgotten. And the unexplained. You’re not an exploiter, Kyle. I like that. Or a sensationalist. You have an open mind, my friend. So I began to wonder if we could work together. I have become very curious about your approach. Your vision.’
    Kyle resisted any show of being flattered, though he was.
    ‘I make films with one agenda. To capture a subculture and to understand it. Or to tell a story honestly. As those who speak to me perceived the experience. I’ve only made films 15
    ADAM NEVILL
    about things that interest me. Stories that fascinate me, that either no one has told or told well enough. Stuff the mainstream media avoids or just misunderstands. And I won’t compromise what I think is the right approach to achieving this. If I can bypass the current Hollywood and film industry business model in the process, it’s a massive bonus. Artistic compromise, idea theft, getting turned over by suits. Enough already. I’m done with all that.’ He said this as a veiled warning. He’d been told it was unwise to show his bitterness in meetings with producers, that it was unprofessional. These days, he chose to ignore advice like that.
    Max raised his trimmed eyebrows as high as he could, but the lower half of his face didn’t budge. He’d had a facelift as well. The half-smile was starting to convince him it was, in fact, mocking.
    Kyle tried to smother his rising irritation. But it was like trying to get the wrong size lid on a tin of red paint. His voice came out all tight. ‘And my time is coming. For film-makers