[Atlanta, Georgia] [Abandoned Grocery Store Set]
The production moved into Atlanta early the following morning.
A closed grocery store near Edgewood Avenue had been transformed into one of the largest sets they had used so far. The parking lot was filled with abandoned cars, overturned shopping carts, scattered groceries, and old newspapers that had been dirtied and sun-faded by the art department.
The store’s front windows had been smeared with grime, dried blood, and handprints. Several letters were missing from the sign above the entrance, leaving the name barely readable.
Inside, the shelves had been emptied and restocked with expired-looking cans, torn cereal boxes, broken jars, and fake rotten produce. The lighting department had shut off most of the ceiling lights, leaving only a few flickering rows glowing through the darkness.
Zombie performers waited between the aisles while the makeup team made final adjustments to their wounds.
Outside, the black Escalade sat near the entrance with its rear facing the cameras.
Jack stood beside it in Columbus’s usual clothes: dark pants, a brown jacket, backpack, and glasses. Woody stood several feet away in Tallahassee’s snakeskin jacket, sunglasses, and boots, already looking far too pleased about the scene they were about to film.
The weapons department had spent most of the morning arranging the contents of the Escalade.
A huge iron skillet rested beside a golf bag filled with a rake, weed whacker, and oversized driver. A wooden pickaxe leaned against several baseball bats. Hedge clippers, garden tools, tire irons, and an acoustic guitar had been placed among the pile.
Jack looked into the back of the SUV and laughed.
“This looks like someone robbed a hardware store during a nervous breakdown.”
Woody picked up the skillet and tested its weight. “I could kill a zombie with this.”
“You could cook breakfast on it afterward.”
Woody glanced at him.
Jack raised both hands. “I’m not saying you should.”
Christopher walked over with the shot list while Phil followed behind him, carrying two cups of coffee.
“We’re starting with the wide exterior,” Christopher said. “You both approach the Escalade, notice movement inside the store, and then Woody opens the tailgate.”
Phil handed one of the coffees to Christopher. “The scene needs to establish two things. Columbus thinks entering the store is completely insane, and Tallahassee has never been more excited in his life.”
Woody nodded toward the building. “So I play it like Christmas morning.”
“Christmas morning with zombies,” Phil said.
“Best kind.”
Jack looked through the dirty windows. Several zombie performers were moving slowly between the aisles, their silhouettes passing behind shelves and hanging advertisements.
He adjusted his glasses.
“Columbus sees that and immediately starts calculating how many ways he can die.”
Christopher pointed toward him. “Exactly. Don’t make him terrified yet. He’s more exhausted by Tallahassee’s decisions than surprised by them.”
"Okay, got it," Jack nodded,
The assistant director called everyone into position.
“Quiet on set.”
The parking lot fell silent.
“Roll sound.”
“Sound speeds.”
“Roll camera.”
“Camera speeds.”
The slate entered the frame.
“Scene forty-two, grocery store exterior, wide setup, take one.”
The slate snapped.
Christopher leaned toward the monitor.
“Action.”
...
Columbus and Tallahassee stood near the rear of the Escalade, looking through the grocery store windows.
Something moved between the aisles.
A dark figure crossed beneath one of the flickering lights before disappearing behind a shelf.
Columbus’s expression tightened immediately.
“Uh-oh.”
Beside him, Tallahassee’s face slowly brightened.
He lowered the Escalade’s tailgate, revealing the enormous pile of weapons stored inside.
Columbus looked from the weapons to Tallahassee, already understanding what was about to happen.
Tallahassee reached into the vehicle and picked up the large black skillet. He examined its weight, considered it for a moment, then discarded it into the back of the Escalade.
Next came the golf bag.
He moved the rake aside, checked the weed whacker, then briefly studied the Big Bertha driver before deciding against all three.
Finally, he found the heavy wooden pickaxe.
Columbus watched him slide it through his belt.
“Prospecting?”
Tallahassee ignored him.
He continued searching until he found the pair of hedge clippers. He opened and closed the blades once, testing the movement.
Columbus looked at the clippers, then at the pickaxe hanging from Tallahassee’s belt.
“You are dangerous.”
Tallahassee did not disagree.
Columbus turned toward the grocery store again. Another shape passed behind the glass. “You’re gonna risk our lives for a Twinkie?” He reached into the Escalade and lifted a plastic container. “I’ve got perfectly good macaroni salad.”
Tallahassee stopped searching. He slowly turned toward Columbus, looking genuinely offended by the suggestion.
“There’s a box of Twinkies in that grocery store.”
He stepped closer, speaking with the seriousness of someone explaining the last remaining source of hope in the world while pointing at the store.
“Not just any box of Twinkies. The last box of Twinkies that anyone will enjoy in the whole universe.”
Columbus held the container against his chest, uncertain why the conversation had become so intense.
“Believe it or not, there’s an expiration date on Twinkies,” Tallahassee continued with a serious expression. “And the Hostess factories are gone.”
He turned back toward the Escalade and searched through the remaining weapons.
“Someday very soon, life’s little Twinkie gauge is gonna hit empty.”
Tallahassee found the acoustic guitar and lifted it from the pile. He slid the strap over his shoulder, then looked back at Columbus and the plastic container in his hands.
He shook his head with complete disgust.
“Fucking macaroni salad.”
Columbus lowered the container slightly.
Neither man moved.
Christopher allowed the silence to hold for another second.
“Cut.”
...
The crew stayed quiet while the playback loaded.
Jack remained beside the Escalade, keeping his position while the script supervisor checked the continuity of the macaroni salad container, backpack strap, and weapon placements.
"That was hilarious," Woody grinned. "You got a real gift, kid. Acting, writing books, and now scripts. Don't you take a breather or something, or are you always working?"
"Oh, I take enough breaks. It's not like I'm always working. But during the shoots, I'm like... I push everything aside and focus on that movie only. And after it's all done and set, that's when I have fun," Jack said.
Christopher watched the entire take from the beginning.
The movement inside the store had appeared at the right moments. Woody had moved naturally through the weapons without rushing, and Jack’s growing concern had built cleanly through the conversation.
Phil watched the final exchange again.
“The macaroni salad line works,” he said. “Jack plays it like a real solution, and Woody reacts like he’s been personally insulted.”
Christopher nodded. “The tone is right.”
He looked toward the actors.
“We have the wide shot. Let’s move into the tighter coverage.”
The camera crew repositioned near the rear of the Escalade.
The props team reset every weapon exactly where it had been before the first take. The skillet returned to the left side of the cargo space. The golf bag was angled toward Woody’s mark. The pickaxe was placed beneath the rake, and the hedge clippers were positioned far enough forward for him to reach them without looking down.
Jack stood nearby, going through Columbus’s reactions in his head while makeup removed a small amount of shine from his forehead.
Once the reset was complete, he returned to his mark.
The second setup focused primarily on Tallahassee searching through the weapons, with Columbus visible beside him.
The assistant director called for quiet.
The slate snapped.
“Action.”
...
The scene began again.
Jack delivered every line at the same pace as the wide take, keeping Columbus’s concern grounded rather than exaggerated. Woody matched the earlier weapon movements while adding smaller details for the closer camera: the dismissive look at the skillet, the brief consideration of the golf club, and the satisfied expression when he found the hedge clippers.
When Jack offered the macaroni salad, he held the container out slightly, as if he honestly believed showing Tallahassee the food might prevent the entire disaster.
Woody turned toward it.
“There’s a box of Twinkies in that grocery store.”
His voice remained calm, though his expression made it clear that Columbus had failed to understand something deeply important.
The speech continued without interruption.
When Woody reached the final line, he slid the guitar strap over his shoulder and stared at the container.
“Fucking macaroni salad.”
Jack’s face shifted subtly.
Columbus did not suddenly understand the Twinkie obsession, but he understood that the argument was over.
Christopher held the shot.
“Cut.”
He immediately looked toward the script supervisor.
“Continuity?”
“Clean,” she replied.
Christopher checked the playback, then nodded. “Good. We have both of them.”
The next take was focused on Jack's face as they went through the scene once more.
“Cut.”
Christopher watched the take once and gave a satisfied nod.
“That’s the close-up. Print it.”
Jack relaxed only after the shot had been approved.
Phil checked the next section of the schedule.
“Exterior complete,” he announced. “We’re moving into the grocery store.”