by Amy Cross
Suddenly, from another room, there's the sound of Thomas starting to cry.
"You'll have to excuse me," Lady Red says, heading over to the door. "It sounds as if the child is in need of some love and attention."
"Keep away from him!" I shout.
"Calm down," she replies, glancing back at me with a smile. "There's nothing you can do, so you might as well just accept the situation. I'll be back shortly with my colleagues, and we'll see about ending your misery. Until then, try to think happy thoughts."
"Stop!" I shout as she leaves the room. "Don't you dare touch him! He's not yours!" After a moment, I realize that Thomas has stopped crying. Less than a day old, he clearly has no way of recognizing that he's in the arms of a monster. "Stop!" I shout, with tears running from my eyes. "Leave him alone!"
Elly
Today
"I want to see Mark," I say firmly. "Until I see him, and I know he's okay, I'm not doing anything."
"You'll see him in due course," Alice replies. "Don't worry about him. He's -"
"I want to see him," I continue, fighting back tears. "I don't care what you say, I want to see him with my own eyes and know that he's okay. I want to see that you haven't..."
She smiles. "Haven't what, Elly?"
"I want to see that you haven't killed him," I say, even though the words send a shiver through my body.
"And if I have?" she asks. "What would you do then?" Walking across the kitchen, she takes one of the large knives and brings it over to me, before turning the blade to against her chest and pausing for a moment. "Would you kill me? Would you take revenge?"
"You're insane," I reply. "This whole thing. The game. It's all crazy."
"Welcome to the party," she replies with a smile. "I'm interested in your answer, though. Would you kill me, Elly? Do you have the strength of character to end someone else's life? After all, if I arranged for Mark to die, surely I'd deserve to lose my own life?"
"This is all a lie," I continue. "The whole thing. The game, everything, it's all just made up. It's some weird, perverted excuse that the three of you have come up with to justify the way you live your lives. It's just some kind of joke, and I was stupid enough to let you draw me in."
"It's not a joke," she says, removing her red cloak to reveal her nude body. Her chest is badly scarred, and her breasts are gone. As she keeps the knife pointed at her heart, she smiles at me. "The cancer devastated my body," she says after a moment, "but it made me realize that the game, too, is a kind of cancer. It invades out lives and destroys them from the inside, and eventually it kills us. The role of Lady Red was so hard to play when I was dealing with the aftermath of the surgery. I was ready to give up a thousand times, but I kept fighting." She pauses. "Life always finds a way to keep going, Elly. I chose to stay strong, but I'm not as strong as you. You're the one who's going to ensure that the game comes to an end. I wish I could have been the one, and I wish I could watch as you achieve your victory, but some things just can't be made to happen."
"I want to see Mark," I tell her, as tears start to fall down my face. "Please, I just want to see him. You have to let me see that he's okay."
"And you have to trust me," she replies. "I know that must be difficult, but I assure you, Mark is being looked after."
"So he's at a hospital?"
"Do you care?"
"Of course I care!" I shout.
"Really?" She smiles. "Your father died, Elly, and you barely showed any emotion. His former business partner came onto you, and you slept with him almost immediately. Then, even though he almost killed the pair of you in a car crash, you decided to quit university and move in with him. His ex-girlfriend went missing, prompting a police investigation, but you decided to stay. Even when the mechanics of the game were explained to you, you were willing to go along with it. You let Mr. White push you beyond your physical and emotional limits, to the extent that you had a heart attack. Your best friend vanished, and you accepted Mark's rather feeble explanation. And now, after everything that's happened tonight, you're standing here, listening to me talk, instead of collapsing in a heap or running away." She pauses. "Are you strong, Elly? Or are you just a little strange in the head? Is your so-called strength just an inability to react to the world in a normal way? Maybe..." She pauses. "Maybe you're just crazy."
"You don't know me," I reply, even though I can't help but wonder whether she's right. I guess I know that my reactions have been pretty strange, and even though I've been having a lot of concerns about Mark, I've managed to ignore them and convince myself that somehow I'm making the right choices.
"You claim to love Mark," she continues, "but in reality, you just want to love him. You want to prove to yourself that you can love someone. I'm not saying you're a monster, or even that you're particularly unusual in that one particular regard. But you have to admit, most other girls in your position would have run screaming from this whole mess a long, long time." She stares at me for a moment. "What's wrong with you, Elly? Have you always known you're not like different, or is it a recent revelation?"
"She's right," Thomas Pope says.
I turn to him, and somehow it's as if, as he stares at me, he's an encapsulation of the entire game. There's a look in his eyes that seems to be informed by knowledge of the game's deepest secrets, and although I know that Lady Red is supposed to be the one who knows everything about the game, I can't help but feel that Thomas Pope knows more than he admits. Is it possible that this old man is the hidden architect of the game, and that he's the one who has been pulling strings behind the scenes for so long?
"I wish you nothing but luck," Alice continues. "Nothing but pure unalloyed happiness. It's going to be hard, Elly, but I want you to know that I believe in you. I have absolute faith in your ability to do this."
When I turn back to face her, I see to my horror that she has slowly started to push the tip of the knife into her chest, sliding it between her ribs. Blood is starting to dribble down from the wound, but there's a determined, fatalistic look on her face, as if she's managed to train her mind to accept the pain. As she stares at me, she seems so noble in the face of death, but at the same time I can see a hint of fear in her expression.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice starting to tremble. "Stop!"
She shakes her head.
"You're going to kill yourself!" I shout.
"This is what the game demands," she says, grimacing a little. "There's no point fighting it. Let that be my last piece of advice for you, Elly. If you feel the tide of the game starting to turn against you, there's no point fighting. Hopefully you'll never be in that position, but one can never be certain, not when it comes to the game."
"Stop!" I shout again. I want to run over and pull the knife away, but I'm scared she'll just push it all the way in if she thinks I'm going to do anything.
She lets out a gasp. "I can feel it," she says after a moment. "The very tip of the blade, against the side of my beating heart, and..." She pauses, and I watch as she slides the knife further into her chest. Finally, she starts to smile, and slowly more blood starts to flow from one side of her mouth.
"Stop!" I shout.
"This is how it has to be," Thomas Pope says.
"Why?" I ask, turning to him.
"The game demands it," he says firmly, "and there can only be one Lady Red at a time."
Hearing a noise nearby, I turn just in time to see that Alice has slumped down onto the kitchen floor. I rush over and kneel next to her, rolling her over and staring down at the blood that's now flowing freely from her mouth.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask. "How could you do that?"
She opens her mouth to say something, but there's too much blood coming up from her chest, and she merely stares at me as if somehow she believes that I might have an answer for her.
"You're insane," I say, as her blood flows onto my hands. "You've lost your mind." As I try to make sense of what I'm seeing, I realize that I the look in her eyes h
as changed, and finally I press a finger against the side of her neck and feel that there's no pulse. Reaching down, I take the handle of the knife and pull it out, but more blood starts to flow from the wound and I contemplate putting the knife back in for a moment before, finally, letting it fall to the kitchen floor.
"She did what she had to do," Thomas Pope says, still in his wheelchair over on the other side of the kitchen.
"Why?" I ask, unable to stop staring at Alice's dead eyes.
"It was her duty," he continues. "Traditionally, the role of Lady Red has always ended with pain and death. Not like this, I grant you, but still... My own mother was hacked to death in childbirth, by all account after my father took her to some underground medical establishment. Certainly within my lifetime, every Lady Red has suffered an unspeakably cruel and tragic death, to the extent that in some ways, it has come to seem rather fitting. Don't mourn her, though. She always hoped that she'd be the one to find the girl who might end the game, and she died believing that she had succeeded. Whether she had or not, only time will tell, but at least she'll never have to wonder. In her mind, at the end, she was certain."
I shake my head. This whole insane spectacle has gone way too far. I should call the police; I should run screaming out of the house and get help, but for some reason I'm still here, with Alice's warm blood on my hands. I guess maybe she was right when she said that there's something strange and unusual about me. Most people definitely wouldn't react this way. Maybe I'm evil, or psychopathic. That's another thing that Alice got right: I have always known that I'm a little different. I've done a good job of fitting in, and I've been able to make friends and get through school and university without too many problems, but deep down I've always been aware that I'm not like everyone else. I'm colder, and less emotional, and I see things in a more rational way. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm a blank person, and that I have to invent my personality on a daily basis.
Lost in thought, I barely even notice a creaking sound nearby, but eventually I turn and see to my shock that Thomas Pope has slowly stood up from the chair and is making his way slowly over to me. It seems almost inconceivable that such an old man can move about, and he's certainly struggling, but finally he reaches the counter.
"You'll need this," he says, taking Alice's red cloak. "Stand up."
I stare at him.
"Stand up, girl. Do as you're told for once."
Slowly, obediently, I get to my feet. Pope carefully places the cloak over my shoulders and ties the front, before raising the hood over the back of my head.
"Why?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Why what?"
"Why did you put this on me?"
"Because Lady Red always wears the cloak," he replies, "and because that's who you are now, Elly. That's the final challenge before you complete the game. You're the new, and hopefully the last, Lady Red."
Jonathan Pope
1901
"Are you ready?" she asks.
Standing in the doorway, with my arms still tied behind my back, I realize that the moment has arrived. No longer can I tell myself that there's a chance of escape; if I was going to get away, it would have happened by now, and all that's left is for me to face death with courage and honor. My legs feel weak, as if I might collapse at any moment, and in my final moments I wish only to find some way for my son to be saved from these monsters.
"I'll take that as an affirmative," Lady Red continues, staring at me from the shadows. "Are you sure you wouldn't like one final moment of pleasure before it's all over, Mr. Pope? I'd be happy to oblige. You'd have to keep your hands bound, of course, but I think I could still find ways to take your mind off your impending death."
"I don't want anything you have to offer," I tell her.
"Pity," she replies, walking over to a table and picking up a dagger. "Do you want to know how Thomas is doing? I've had him checked over by a doctor. I imagine you didn't have an opportunity to get him seen by anyone other than that wretched John the Pig individual." She pauses, as the blade of the dagger catches the candle-light. "Thomas Pope is a fine and healthy young man," she continues eventually. "The doctor was highly impressed, and told me that young Thomas seems to be absolutely perfect. No apparent weaknesses. No illnesses. Just a healthy, strong boy who looks set to grow up and become a strong and powerful man."
"Why do you want him?" I ask. "What possible use could he be to you?"
"Amusement," she replies. "I'd like very much to raise a child within the confines of the game. It's an experiment, but I certainly won't put him in harm's way. It might surprise you to learn, Mr. Pope, that I have some very strong motherly feelings. When I look at that poor child, I'm quite overcome by a feeling of love. As hard as it might be for you to believe, I'm certain that I'll be a good mother, and that he'll be looked after very well indeed. I know what you think of me, Mr. Pope, but I believe Thomas will see me differently. He'll love me eventually."
"No son of mine could ever love you," I say firmly. "He'll see through you from an early age. He'll recognize you for the monster that you are, and he'll despise you."
"Perhaps," she replies, "or perhaps I'll change. My love for the boy might spur me to become someone I'm not. Who knows? This might be the best thing that ever happens to me." She pauses. "In a way, it's a pity that you won't be around to witness the transformation. I'm sure you'd be curious, and I'd like to watch your face as you realize that you're so very wrong about all of this. Still, keeping you alive would be a tremendous burden, and I'm afraid that our resources simply don't stretch that far. Well, they could, but it would be a real drain. You understand the need to finish you off, do you not?"
"Thomas will hate you," I tell her.
"No," she says, walking over to me and holding the dagger close to my chest. "I think not. He'll love me as his mother, and I'll love him as my son. We'll be perfect together. The game will take place around us, but I'll protect him from the inevitable storms that rip through our world. He'll have a unique, outsider's view of the whole thing, and I think he'll be very useful as a result. A child could have destroyed the game, Mr. Pope, but instead he has helped to change everything in a very positive manner. I have no doubt that Thomas will help to redefine the game in ways that neither of us can possibly imagine."
"Get this over with," I reply, staring down at the blade.
"Why?" she asks. "Are you afraid to die?"
"Just do it," I tell her, feeling the sweat starting to fall from my brow.
"I suppose there's no need to stand on ceremony, is there?" she replies. "After all, you're not a religious man, so it's not as if you need to take a moment in order to make peace with God, is it? Or are you going to decide that you believe in him after all? That would be so tedious, Mr. Pope, but it's your right."
"Do it!" I shout, before noticing movement over by the far door. After a moment, I realize that the new Mr. White has come to watch my death. "Know one thing," I continue. "Know that monsters such as the three of you will never win. Good men will always stop you. My son will never be like you. He'll fight back, and when he's old enough, he'll end your miserable lives. You won't be able to twist him and make him take your image. He'll cut your throats and spill your blood, just as soon as he recognizes the true evil in your hearts."
"Sounds very possible," says Mr. White.
"He'll -" I start to say, before I feel a sharp pain in the back of my chest. I stagger forward, but I can already feel warm blood leaking through my body. When I turn around, I see that the new Mr. Blue is smiling at me, holding a bloodied dagger in his hand. I try to say something, but I'm starting to feel weak and I quickly drop to the floor.
"Thank you, my dear," Lady Red says. "I always prefer it when one of you does the final deed. Dispose of the body as we discussed."
I try to call out to them, but I'm already too weak to say a word. As I feel someone take hold of my legs and start dragging me across the floor, I realize I'm drifting into darkness. All I can think about
, as I die, is my son, and the hope in my heart that somehow he'll manage to escape from these monsters.
Epilogue
She looks the part. She's strong, and she has an aura of great intelligence. At the same time, she has certain weaknesses, and right now it's these weaknesses that are exposed. She has been through a great deal of trauma, and the fact that she has survived is, in itself, something of a miracle. Still, she needs time to regroup and to understand the nature of her own reaction. She'll be given that time, and hopefully she'll use it wisely.
The old man watches her. He wants to speak, but he dare not. He fears that he might break her concentration, and that he could undo the good work of a century. For now, he's content to merely watch her, and to wonder what she might be thinking. He knows that she is in love, or that she thinks this to be the case, and he recognizes that either way, she is likely to be in shock. She has no idea whether the object of her affections is alive or dead, but she will find out soon. There's also the matter of Alice, the previous Lady Red, whose body was recently removed by Mr. White, doubtless to be taken and dumped in the river. So much blood, and so much suffering, even as the game begins its final chapter. And still the girl sits here, trying to come to terms with her new role.
For the past few hours, she has barely moved. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, and she seems to be utterly absorbed by her own thoughts. It's as if her brain has skipped a groove and shut down. As far as the old man can tell, Elly seems to be almost in some kind of trance, and as he continues to watch her, he can't help but wonder whether she might be suffering some kind of nervous breakdown. Then again, he has been told in the past that Elly Bradshaw is a very unusual girl, and that her emotional reactions are not typical. This makes her much more difficult to anticipate, and it means that working out what she's thinking is almost impossible. She should have run screaming from the game a long time ago, but instead she's sitting completely still, with the red cloak draped over her body, and with her steely eyes staring straight ahead.
