by West, Sam
Kendra and Kevin locked eyes over the table and her heart gave a lurch. Momentarily, she was transported back to being sixteen years old and in love. The inappropriate flutter disappeared as soon as it had arrived and all that was left was the grim situation she now found herself in.
CHAPTER THREE
Craig Ellison’s head throbbed like a motherfucker. He felt like shit – every bone in his body ached and his guts cramped.
He refused to open his eyes, too scared to see what kind of dog he had picked up last night. Last weekend, he had woken up with a fucking porker next to him in the bed. He hated porkers. In the nightclub, he remembered her as a curvy, blonde bombshell, but in the light of morning, she had looked like the fucking Michelin Man.
But the strange thing was, he had no memory of going out last night. Usually when he woke up feeling like this, the night before would come back to him in fragments and he would lie there in bed, piecing together the disjointed memories of the jigsaw puzzle that made up the events of the previous night…
No memories swamped his brain. Nothing. Just a big, fat blank. And now he came to think of it, he realised he wasn’t even lying down. A bad feeling churned in his already upset guts, and his eyes snapped open.
Promptly, he threw up. Waves of nausea racked his body, leaving him trembling violently in their wake. He continued to heave up the contents of his stomach, even if all that was left was acid. The vomit scorched his chest and thighs, quickly turning cold and damp. Only dimly was he aware that he couldn’t move.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
The ringing in his ears pierced his brain and he fought to stay conscious.
“…allergic to chloroform,” a voice was saying, drifting to him on the tide of sickness.
Craig shivered hot and cold, trying to place the voice. He couldn’t. He felt himself sinking into oblivion and he struggled to fight it, doing his best to organise his thoughts. With great difficulty, he prised open one eye, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed right into the centre of his throbbing brain.
What he saw through his half-closed eye defied comprehension.
“What the fuck is going on?” he slurred.
His first thought was that the pricks at work were playing a joke on him to get him back for tying the newest and youngest labourer naked to a lamppost because he hadn’t swept up properly. But somehow this didn’t feel like some laddish prank.
It didn’t feel right at all.
He went to stand up, but all that achieved was to jar his already aching body.
I’m cuffed to a fucking chair? What the fuck?
“Don’t struggle, Craig, you’ll only hurt yourself.”
That same, calm voice. Craig recognised a voice of authority when he heard one, and he swivelled his head to confront the person in charge. He was not expecting to see some shrivelled looking cunt in a fucking wheelchair parked right next to him.
“What is this shit? Who the fuck are you?”
“You mean you don’t recognise me? Take a look around yourself Craig, you’re at a school reunion.”
“What?”
The fog in his brain was clearing with every passing second. For the first time, he looked properly around. He saw he was in a room of indeterminable size due to the fact that the perimeter was swallowed by shadows. A huge spotlight was mounted on the high ceiling, shining down on the big, oval table that he and five others were sat around.
It’s like a fucking stage-set.
He frowned in confusion.
“Who the fuck are all of you?” he barked at the five others who were strapped into metal chairs the same as his own.
None of the fuckers answered him. The woman directly opposite him, a fatty with frizzy, mousy hair, was staring at him with huge, terrified, watery blue eyes.
“Oi, Fatso, you deaf? I asked you what was going on.”
“Don’t speak to her like that.”
Craig’s head snapped round at the sound of the feminine voice. She was strapped into a chair to his left, and a deeply buried memory stirred.
School reunion? Did I go to school with these fuckwits?
“And who the fuck are you when you’re at home?”
“Kendra. Kendra Ball. And you’re Craig.”
“You know me?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. How could I ever forget such a charmer?”
He stared hard at her.
Kendra Ball.
The long-forgotten memory was now there in all its glory. Oh yeah, he remembered her alright, he’d had quite the soft-spot for her way back when, but the stuck-up bitch wouldn’t have anything to do with him. She’d been sweet on that poof – God, what was his name – Kevin somebody or other.
She’s still as fucking hot as ever.
He let his gaze openly stray to her ample breasts in the clinging cocktail dress, taking in her luscious curves.
“And how could I ever forget those tits? Now I’ll ask one more time for those that are hard of hearing, what the fuck is going on here?”
“You’re a pig,” Kendra said softly.
A flash of rage twisted in Craig’s chest – no one spoke to him like that, especially not a woman.
“When I get out of this chair, bitch, I’m gonna give you a slap.”
“Don’t you dare talk to her like that, you fucking scumbag.”
The new voice came from his right, past the fuckwit in the wheelchair and on the right of the groaning, skinny, washed-up slapper with the fake tits.
The man speaking to him looked out of it. He slurred his words and rolled his eyes like he was having difficulty focusing. He also looked familiar. Craig was getting angrier by the second. Nobody fucked with Craig Ellison – he was the one that did the fucking, end of.
“And when I’ve taught this fucking bitch some manners, I’m gonna pound your fucking face in.”
“Enough!” said the tosser in the wheelchair next to him.
Craig’s already sore body was suddenly alive with agony. It consumed him and his teeth clacked together. It hurt too much to even scream and he convulsed helplessly in the grip of unspeakable pain.
The ferocious pain stopped and his body went slack in the chair. It left him stunned, and to his shame, tears rolled down his cheeks. He barely heard the cripple above the ringing in his ears:
“I can give you a little shock anytime I please, Craig, you’ll do well to understand that. Are you going to behave yourself now and watch your tongue?”
He could only groan in reply as he didn’t trust himself to speak. The pain may have gone, but it had left him weak and shaken with a pounding heart.
“Good, I’ll take that as a yes. Now, will you all please be quiet while I explain the rules of Advantage? If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them when I’m done.”
Silence followed the cripple’s little speech and Craig’s head rolled on his neck, the fight drained out of him. His vision blurred with the effort of staying conscious, and there were no longer five others round the table, but ten.
He stared at the fat bitch across from him, trying to morph her considerable bulk into one person as he concentrated on what the cripple was saying; even in his sorry state, he knew that everything hinged on him listening. Like the crip said, this was a game. And if there was one thing Craig was good at, it was games. He played dirty, and he always won…
“Advantage is a card game. Each of you draws a card, and the person who draws the highest card sets the challenge for the two players that draw the lowest card. A king is the highest card, and an ace is the lowest. If two or more players draw a card with the same value, then they will re-draw until the players hold different cards. The challenge is decided by the player with the highest card and it can be absolutely anything, so long as it involves both players that hold the two lowest cards. The object is to make the challenge as uncomfortable as possible so that the two players are unable to complete the task, or default on the task. If a player defaults, then they are elimin
ated from the game. Both players can continue with the game if they complete the task. This process of elimination will determine the winner. Is everybody with me so far?” His question was met by silence, and the man continued. “This is the bit you’re going to love. The winner of Advantage walks away a free man or woman, ten million pounds richer. Are there any questions?”
Craig’s stomach leapt, but this time it wasn’t with nausea. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
“Did you say ten million?” Craig asked slowly, forgetting to be scared.
“Yes, Craig, ten million pounds.”
“What happens to the losers?” Kendra asked.
Craig smirked. Trust her, the fucking do-gooder bitch. He had no intention of losing.
“You’ll find that out as it happens,” the cripple replied. “You can bring the props in now,” he said loudly.
From out of the shadows, a man appeared. He was young-looking, and wearing a pin-striped suit. He looked like some high-powered businessman that worked in London, right down to his immaculate haircut and perfectly-polished shoes. In his arms he carried a variety of objects, none of which made any sense to Craig; there was a claw-head hammer, a rolling-pin and a screw-top bottle of wine. Once the man had silently placed the objects on the centre of the table, he produced a pack of cards from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed them next to the wine.
Who the fuck else is here, watching us, Craig thought as the man withdrew into the shadows once more.
“Are there any questions?” the cripple asked again.
“I have one.”
Craig snapped his head round. It came from the guy on his left who had been silent up until this point. He was dressed in a black dinner-jacket and it suddenly occurred to him that they all were dressed in evening attire, like they were going to some swanky party.
Or a funeral…
“How can we play a game of cards if we’re shackled to these chairs?” the man asked.
Craig stared hard at the man, trying to place him. He looked to be around his age, with thinning blonde hair, weak shoulders and a wide girth. Did he go to school with him as well? He closed his eyes. God, this was all so fucking fucked up.
“Because you won’t be for much longer,” came the reply.
“Why us?”
Craig stared at the fat bitch who had asked the question. Her eyes were red-rimmed from her silent tears and her fat wobbled with her uncontrollable trembling. A wave of disgust stirred in his guts; God, how he hated fatties.
Jasper stared at the woman for a few seconds before replying. “Because you owe me. You all owe me. Now, when the bell sounds you must start the game. Every time the bell sounds, you must take your seat and play a fresh game. Until that point, you may talk amongst yourselves and get to know each other a little better. I think your time alone should sufficiently answer all your questions. You will take it in turns to be dealer, it doesn’t matter who starts.” The cripple reversed away from the table. “Let the games commence,” he said, pressing a button on the remote control he kept in his lap.
A loud clanking noise from above made Craig squeal like a girl and he flinched in his chair, his heart pounding. For a second he was convinced he was going to be impaled by one of the metal poles that extended from out of the ceiling and came shooting downwards.
It took him a moment to realise he wasn’t dead, but imprisoned in a cage. As soon as the pole ends touched the concrete floor, the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles clicked open. He lifted up his arms, not quite believing he was free.
He stood up, feeling like he was in a dream, then promptly fell to the floor, landing on his knees with a nasty smack. His legs weren’t strong enough to support his weight and he began to laugh. Dimly, he was aware of someone telling him to shut up, but he paid them no heed.
The game had started and no matter what, he was going to win.
CHAPTER FOUR
When the cage came down and the cuffs clicked open, Kendra jumped to her feet, her heart racing. The first thing she did was to run to the bars and rattle them. They didn’t budge so much as a millimetre and she bit down the wail of frustration.
Craig Ellison, the bullying pervert that had made her life miserable in school was on his knees, laughing like a loon.
Hysteria and shock, she thought impassively. She could relate.
“Why don’t you just fucking shut up?” a male voice barked.
Kevin. A lump formed in her throat and she stared out between a gap in the bars, trying to compose herself before she was forced to turn round and confront the nightmare situation.
Only then did she notice that the room beyond the cage was lit up.
What is this place?
The space wasn’t as big as she’d first assumed it to be, now that she could see all four walls. The room was barren, windowless, and comprised almost entirely of concrete. There was just the one door, which was shut. Despite the high ceiling, it had the distinct feel of a basement. There was no sign of Jasper, or anyone else beyond the bars. When she glanced heavenwards in a silent prayer, she saw the surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling, pointing down at them.
“I told you to shut it! We need to keep calm,” came Kevin’s voice.
Craig’s laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. “Who the fuck are you telling to keep calm?”
A heavy thump caused her to spin round. “Stop it!” she gasped in horror.
Unthinkingly, she dived on the scuffling men. Craig had Kevin pinned on his back on the table with his hands around his neck. She tugged at Craig’s forearms, then without warning staggered backwards because Craig had let go.
“Easy there,” said the third man when she went careering into him.
He steadied her, keeping her upright.
“Thanks,” she muttered, trying not to let on how shaken she was. “Kevin’s right, we need to keep calm.”
She managed a thin smile for the unfamiliar man that had stopped her from falling, and gently extracted herself from his comforting, brotherly grip.
“We need to work out why we’re here,” the man said softly. “Although I’d say it’s painfully obvious. I should imagine that we were all cruel to Jasper Black when we were kids, in way or another.”
The six of them stood around uncertainly, looking at each other, their expression flitting between shock, confusion and terror. Kevin rubbed his neck, and glared at Craig like he could happily rip out his heart.
Craig smacked his forehead, and Kendra felt a fresh wave of dislike for the man. Was there really any need for him to be so theatrical?
“Of course. Jasper Black. The Ginger Tosser. The guy whose head I used to flush down the bog.”
“You and me both,” muttered the man next to her.
Craig peered more closely at him. “Wayne? Wayne Drake? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Instinctively, Kendra stepped away from him as a rush of memories from her teenaged years came flooding back. Wayne had been Craig’s best-friend, and together they had been the biggest pair of loud, bullying shits going. Kendra could have sworn that she had seen kindness and concern in the man’s eyes when he had prevented her from falling, but she must have been mistaken. Wayne Drake was a wanker.
“I don’t give a toss who you all are, I just want to get the fuck out of here,” said the hard-faced, skinny blonde with the boob job.
Kendra looked at her more closely. She had to have gone to school with her, but she couldn’t place her. “Maybe we all should introduce ourselves properly. Maybe, if we can just understand why we’re here and what Jasper Black wants from us, we can find a solution.”
“A solution?” spat the blonde. “You know what you can do with your solutions, you stupid fucking stuck-up bitch. He’s getting revenge on us, isn’t he?”
Kendra stared at her, a rush of recognition slamming into her brain.
Maria Walker. The most popular girl in class. And the biggest bitch.
“I thin
k it’s a fine idea,” Kevin said.
Kendra managed a thin smile for him, pathetically grateful for the emotional backup.
“Well you would, wouldn’t you?” Craig said. “Tell me mate, did you ever get into the ice-queen’s knickers?”
Kevin’s jaw set into a hard line. “I’m warning you.”
“Is that a threat, big man? Wanna come over here and say it?”
“Please!” Wayne said, raising his hands in the air. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Kendra’s right, we need to talk about this, it’s our only chance.”
“Our only chance of what?” Maria snapped. “Being the playthings of some sick and twisted arsehole from school that’s out for revenge?”
“Oh God, I can’t take this anymore.”
Everyone turned to look at the fat woman who had thus far stood there in silence. Behind her glasses, her red-rimmed eyes were wild. She lunged for the bars and shook them so hard the flab on her upper-arms swung back and forth like a pendulum.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, fatso, your wailing isn’t helping anything,” Craig said.
An image of slapping Craig Ellison across the face flared in Kendra’s mind, but she resisted the urge.
“It’s alright, Jean, we’ll find a way through this,” Wayne said, going up to her and placing his hands on her heaving shoulders.
“Jean? You’re having a laugh, right? Look at the fucking state of you,” Craig said, the disdain in his voice all too obvious.
Of course. Mean Jean.
She knew there was something familiar about the fat woman, and now she was able to place her. Jean Glover, one time, long-term girlfriend of Craig. She and Maria had been as thick as thieves at school.
Now it’s just her waistline that’s thick.
She shuddered at her own bitchiness; it really wasn’t like her at all.
Wayne comforted the sobbing woman as everyone else stood awkwardly around. Her heart twisted into a painful knot in her chest when a bell sounded, as loud as a fire-alarm. The shock of it made her scream, but the ear-splitting noise drowned her out. Her hands flew up to protect her ears, the same as everyone else in the cage.
