From A Producer To A Global Superstar-Chapter 282: Second-to-Last Scene

(Second-to-Last Scene)

The atmosphere on set was noticeably different that morning.

There was no unnecessary chatter. No casual laughter lingering longer than it should. Everyone knew what scene they were about to film—and more importantly, what it represented. This wasn’t just another sequence. This was one of the emotional pillars of the entire movie.

The train crash scene had already been completed earlier.

Now came the aftermath.

Cameras were repositioned carefully. Tracks were laid cleanly along the gravel-strewn ground beside the damaged train. Crew members double-checked safety rigs, stunt placements, and emergency signals. Every movement was deliberate.

Dayo stood slightly apart from the main cluster, tablet in hand, eyes scanning the setup.

This scene mattered.

He raised his hand slightly. "Quiet on set."

The murmurs faded immediately.

"Rolling positions," he said calmly.

Park—already in character—lay sprawled inside the damaged train car. His clothes were torn, dirt smeared across his face. His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling hard as if he had just been pulled back from unconsciousness.

"Action."

Park’s eyes were closed he seemed to have fainted as he layed on the ground unaware of the troubles.

Su-an his daughter knelt down scare as she saw her father laying in fhe ground unmoving with zombies grunting at her wanting to shred her and the rest to piece.

She screamed. "Dad."

"Dad."

"Daddy wake up." She screamed with tears dripping donw her eyes as she yanked her father left and right as the zombies were about to breakthrough.

Park’s eye’s fluttered open.

For a split second, confusion filled his gaze. His vision blurred, the world spinning slightly as sound rushed back into his ears—distant groans, scraping metal, the low, unmistakable growls.

Zombies.

Too close.

His eyes snapped fully open.

"Su-an!" he shouted hoarsely.

His daughter was right beside him, frozen in fear, eyes wide as she stared past him and tears written all over her young and delicate face.

Park turned—and his heart dropped.

They were surrounded.

Zombies staggered toward the broken entrance of the train car, their movements jerky, relentless. Their numbers were growing, drawn by sound, by movement, by life.

"No... no, no..." Park muttered under his breath.

Behind him, the pregnant woman struggled to get up, panic etched into her face.

"Run," Park said sharply. "We have to run."

There was no time to think.

But the zombie were getting close that was when the.man with them stood in front of them and told them to run.

Park whonat the beginning of the film would have taken tk his hills hesitated nkt wanting to leave another person behind aftwr leaving the pregnant woman’s husband back in the trian.

The man then shouted. "Idiot if you don’t run it would take all of us go GO GO !!!!"

Reluctantly Park scooped his daughter into his arms and grabbed the woman by the wrist, pulling her forward as he stumbled toward the exit.

"Move!" he shouted. "Don’t stop!"

They ran.

The zombies followed immediately, their footsteps chaotic, their snarls growing louder.

The entrance to the next train loomed ahead.

"Go!" Park yelled.

His daughter reached the train first, grabbing onto the cold iron railing with both hands. Her small fingers clenched tightly as she pulled herself up.

The pregnant woman struggled behind her.

Park pushed her forward, one hand still holding his daughter steady.

"Climb!" he urged. "Climb now!"

The woman managed to get inside.

Park followed, scrambling in just as the doors slammed shut behind them.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then—

A loud thud.

Hands slammed against the outside of the train.

Zombies clung to the exterior, their fingers gripping metal bars, dragging themselves along as the train began to move.

Park’s breath hitched.

"No..." he whispered.

He rushed to the door, kicking, punching, trying to dislodge them.

"Let go!" he shouted, slamming his foot against the metal.

More zombies piled on.

They were climbing each other—forming a grotesque ladder, bodies stacking, crawling upward toward the windows.

One reached the top.

Park reacted instantly.

He grabbed a metal rod from the floor and swung hard.

The zombie flew backward, tumbling off the moving train.

Park didn’t stop.

Again.

Again.

He struck harder, faster, desperation fueling every movement.

Finally, the hands began to loosen.

One by one, the zombies lost their grip.

They fell.

Park collapsed against the wall, gasping.

For a second, it felt like it was over.

Then Park noticed something.

The cockpit door.

He frowned.

Slowly, cautiously, he approached it.

"Is anyone there?" Park called out.

No response.

He reached for the handle.

The door resisted.

From inside, a voice suddenly spoke—shaky, desperate.

"Please... don’t leave me."

Park froze.

The door cracked open slightly.

Inside sat the villan the same one who refused to open the door for them and cause the death of the pregnant womans husband, drenched in sweat, eyes bloodshot, shaking uncontrollably.

"Please," the man begged. "I’m human. I swear. Take me to my family. I’ll give you anything. Money—whatever you want."

Park hesitated.

The man leaned forward—

And in that instant, his eyes rolled back.

His jaw snapped open unnaturally.

He lunged.

Park reacted just in time, slamming the door shut as the man slammed against it from the inside.

The door burst open.

The man was already changing.

"No!" Park shouted.

They collided.

The fight was brutal and desperate.

The zombie clawed wildly, snarling inches from Park’s face. Park shoved him back, fists flying, muscles straining.

"Stay down!" Park yelled.

The zombie slammed him into the wall.

Pain exploded through Park’s side.

He groaned but didn’t stop fighting.

Behind him, the pregnant woman screamed.

The zombie lunged toward her.

Park grabbed him from behind, pulling with everything he had.

"Get away from them!" Park roared.

They struggled.

The zombie turned—and struck Park hard across the chest.

The sound echoed.

Park stumbled backward.

For a split second, the entire set went silent.

Then—

"CUT!"

Dayo’s voice cut through the tension.

"Very good," he said immediately. "That was strong."

Actors stayed in position as crew members rushed in.

"Nice take," someone muttered.

Park sat up slowly, chest rising heavily.

Dayo approached, eyes sharp but satisfied.

"We’ll take it again," he said calmly. "Same intensity."

Park nodded, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I’m ready."

Dayo raised his hand.

"Reset positions."

The crew moved quickly.

Everyone knew they were witnessing something important—not just a scene, but a moment that would stay with audiences.

Dayo watched closely.

This was the kind of scene that defined a film.

And they were getting it right.