by Frazer Lee
“We’re close to land,” she realised.
“What?!” Max turned sharply.
Dave and Gwen moved to the window nearest them, on the same side of the plane as Jo, peering out, curious.
“We should be over the Atlantic now. But we’re not. Look - there’s land, over there.”
“What does that mean?” Gwen asked.
Max answered. “Whatever our destination is...”
“It’s not New York,” Jo finished.
“So where are we going then?” Dave asked. “Jesus.”
They all looked to one another, mortal fear in their eyes. Alligator’s games had diverted all their focus onto the victims of their forfeits. It hadn’t occurred to them that they themselves might be in danger aboard the jet - until now.
Max turned and looked at the flat panel TV screen on the wall at the front of the plane. Maybe, just maybe, he thought. The thing had been inactive for the duration of the flight so far. He approached the screen, tapping the power button a couple of times. Dead, totally dead - yes, maybe.
His fingertips found the groove behind the screen’s casing. He pressed with his fingers, working them down into the gap, and pulled. The wall bracket moved, only a centimetre or two, but enough for him to get a purchase on it. He twisted and pulled with all his might, wrenching the bracket back out of the cavity wall. The screen tipped forward into his arms, heavy all of a sudden, and he crouched, dropping it to the floor.
Gwen looked horrified. “Don’t! You’ll piss Alligator off and he’ll...”
But Max was intent on his newfound task. “No power cable,” he said, excitement in his voice as he checked both the hole in the wall and the cable ports in the back of the TV.
“What are you doing?” Dave asked.
“This screen should show our flight path, ETA, weather systems, all that stuff...”
His eyes, sharpened with purpose, darted around the cabin and settled on Dave’s touch screen.
“The lead,” Max said.
Dave looked dumbfounded.
“Disconnect the lead,” Max clarified. “Pass it to me!”
Dave disconnected the power lead from the back of his screen and tried to hand it Max. It didn’t quite reach.
“I said don’t! You shouldn’t be doing this,” Gwen said, her voice laden with dread.
Ignoring her pleas, Max wrested the monitor from its bracket and dragged it across the floor, closer to the power cable. Still a couple of inches too far.
Dave yanked at the cable, snapping it away from its wall housing, pulling with all his might until he could plug it into the monitor. The screen fizzed into life, the Deppart Airlines logo appearing briefly before dissolving to a computer-generated map display.
“What?” Max said, as a GPS flight path marker appeared over the map, a little pixelated plane showing their position.
“Where the fuck are we?” Dave asked.
“We’re over Denmark,” Jo said.
Max nodded. “According to this we’re bound for Oslo. What the hell is in Oslo?”
Jo cut in. “All2gethr headquarters are in Oslo.”
“Why are they doing this to us?” Gwen asked, lip trembling.
“I don’t think this is All2gethr,” Max said.
“What?” Dave snapped.
“You think a social network is doing this? No, it can’t be them, can’t be.”
“Who is it then?” Dave railed on, “It’s all legit - this trip...”
“You read it in an email did you? It’s got to be legit then hasn’t it!?” Dave’s idiocy was beginning to grate with Max.
“This is their competition - we were contacted through their site, remember.”
“You think a social network is out there killing people? For what reason? Profit margins not high enough so they’ve moved into hit jobs? Snuff videos? No mate, whoever it is, it isn’t All2gethr.”
Dave shook his head in disbelief. Max looked past him at the cockpit door.
“We’ve got to get to that pilot,” Max said.
Dave looked defeated. “I bloody tried, door’s sealed tight.”
“People are dying because we broke the rules.” Gwen was now at the bar, helping herself to some chilled water. “Maybe we should just think about playing along before someone else gets hurt.”
“They can’t wipe out everybody can they? I’ve got over a thousand people on my friend list...”
“Oh, go you, Dave. This isn’t a bloody popularity contest!” Gwen shouted.
“That’s not what I...”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats...”
Alligator’s voice interrupted Dave’s protest, the reptilian voice making the speakers rattle.
“It is time for Round Three.”
Ten
“Why the hell are we flying to Oslo?” Max demanded.
He was standing in the aisle next to Jo, both of them looking defiant.
“All in good time,” Alligator teased.
Gwen began to sob from her seat, pleading with them to sit down, to just do as Alligator said.
“No more,” Jo said, “We’re not playing any more.”
The speakers crackled faintly, then Alligator made his next move.
“Very well, you give me no choice but to initiate another forfeit. Let’s see...”
The touch screens flickered into life, rifling through Jo’s friend profiles. She watched in abject terror as familiar names and faces scrolled across the screen. So many innocent people.
“No!” Jo shouted. She couldn’t allow him to harm anyone.
“Then take your seats,” Alligator said as the screens flickered into life.
“Please,” Jo said to Max as she sat down.
Last man standing, Max looked around the cabin at the others - at Jo’s pleading eyes boring into his. She’ll be the death of me, that yummy mummy, Max thought as he reluctantly sat down.
The words ‘ROUND 3: DO OR DIE’ appeared on the monitor screens in front of the terrified passengers. An atmosphere of dread fell over the cabin like a dying breath.
Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the animated Alligator returned to their screens.
Gwen glanced out of the dark window at the stormy night sky, biting her fingernails.
Jo and Max exchanged frightened glances - no brave faces to put on this time.
“You will each be given an assignment,” Alligator instructed. “Failure to complete your assignments will result in more deaths. I will gladly kill more of your friends if need be. Or your families.”
Blank terror fell across Jo’s face. She thought of her little Sophie and Dawn, all alone at her home. Her mind conjured screams of terror from her loved ones, and she put her hands to her ears as though to block them out.
Max looked at Jo, concerned. “And if we refuse to play along?”
“Please - don’t cross him,” Jo said.
“Finally, Jo makes a constructive comment. Better late than never...” Alligator purred.
Jo frowned. Why single her out?
“Jo, please report to the ‘diary room’.”
Puzzlement flashed across Jo’s face. She glanced at the others - they looked just as confused as she did.
“My little joke,” Alligator continued, “Please proceed to the bathroom, alone, and close the door behind you.”
Jo had witnessed enough horrors to know it was the best course of action to simply do as Alligator instructed.
She stepped into the bathroom, mental images of the shotgun blast that killed Dave’s friend Rory, Max’s pal Alan’s murderous fall from the stairwell, reminding her that their captor’s threats were far from idle. The vivid recollection of those brutal deaths heightened her anxiety. Her heart pounded as the bathroom light clicked on. Remembering Alligator’s instructions, she closed the door, sliding the lock mechanism shut.
She looked around nervously, almost jumping out of her skin as the Alligator’s sardonic face twitched into life on the big T
V screen.
“Locate the headset and put it on,” Alligator demanded.
There were speakers in the bathroom too, his voice permeating every inch of the aircraft like an airborne virus.
Jo’s eyes scanned the bathroom, and then she saw it - a white and silver headset on the little ledge next to the lavatory. She picked it up and put it on, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet. She sat facing the large TV screen projecting Alligator’s grinning face back at her.
“Can you hear me Jo?” Alligator’s voice boomed through the headset.
Piped into her ears through the headset, his sinewy tones took on an additional air of menace. It felt like he was in the close confines of the bathroom with her, a killer whispering directly into her ear. Jo shivered.
“Yes, I can hear you...” she said, nervously.
“I’m going to give you an assignment. If you arouse the suspicions of your fellow passengers, or if you fail to complete your task, then your daughter Sophie will be killed.”
A video window popped up on the screen opposite Jo.
From the fixed high-angle perspective of a security camera, she could see the tiny form of her beloved baby girl, curled up on a metal cot bed in a bare, low-lit room. Jo leaned forward, feeling for a moment like she could reach into the screen and stroke Sophie’s hair, just like she did whenever her little girl had nightmares at home.
“You bastard! What have you done with her!?” Jo sobbed.
“She is perfectly fine. See?”
“Is this live - what I’m seeing!?”
“Yes. Would you like me to wake her?”
Sophie appeared to be asleep, rough woollen blanket clutched in her little hand. She was, thankfully, fully dressed and bore no obvious signs of any violence. Better to keep it that way.
“Don’t you touch her!”
“Remain calm, Jo. No harm will come to her - as long as you do as instructed.”
Jo was seething. “I swear if you touch her...”
“Remain calm,” Alligator replied, his voice sterner than ever. “Now, I know that you aren’t the sort to take action in a crisis, so I have set you a task that requires very little effort. I want you to look on top of the little mirrored cabinet over there...”
Listening to his instructions, Jo began to feel sick to her stomach.
They all watched Jo as she returned, tearful, to her seat. Dave looked at Gwen, whose eyes dared him to say anything. Max looked at Jo, concerned.
“What is it? What did he say?”
The others exhaled, shuffled in their seats. It was the question they all wanted to hear her answer.
Jo’s eyes glistened with tears and she shook her head feebly.
“Come on. What the hell did he say in there?” Dave asked, sounding more frightened than aggressive.
No answer came from Jo’s lips. To Dave’s dread, it was Alligator who responded.
“Dave. Please report to the bathroom.”
Dave remained rooted to his seat for a moment, torn between pressing Jo for more information and answering Alligator’s call.
“Now Dave,” Alligator demanded.
Begrudgingly, Dave rose and headed for the bathroom. He paused and looked back at Jo before entering. Her face was in profile as she stared blank-eyed out of the window.
A tear trickled down her cheek; an ill omen adding to his already fearful apprehension.
Dave’s tired mind raced.
He’d locked the door behind him and put the headset on just as Alligator had instructed, sat on the closed toilet seat. The reptilian voice told Dave he had a ‘very special’ task to perform. After all he’d seen so far, after the humiliating mind games, he was feeling less than co-operative.
“And I should give a shit about your ‘task’ because...?” Dave said, glaring at the cartoon Alligator on the screen opposite him.
“Ah, you want me to twist your arm,” the Alligator preened. “Very well.”
The on-screen visual turned to digital noise for a few short seconds, before switching to another camera-eye view.
This time, the screen showed the interior of a gloomy garage. The image lurched and flickered as the cameraman took a couple of steps nearer to a figure in the centre of the garage. Dave stood up. He stepped closer to the screen so quickly that the headset was torn from his ears.
“Sarah!” he gasped.
“She can’t hear you, Romeo,” Alligator said.
Dave watched in horror as the image became clearer. Sarah was balanced precariously on a tall wooden barstool, her hands tied behind her back. Tears streamed from her terrified eyes, running over the thick gaffer tape wrapped tightly around her mouth. A noose of thick rope was tied loosely around her neck. A muffled sob escaped from her mouth as she teetered on the stool then regained her balance.
Dave had never seen her looking so distraught, so vulnerable. It chilled him to his very marrow. He recalled how carefree, how happy, she had looked in the raunchy picture text she’d sent only that morning. It felt like an age ago, seeing her like this.
“You fucking bastard! Tell me this is a set-up! You’ve had your fun, now let her go...”
He remembered the headset. It was dangling from its cord, a sick parody of Sarah and that awful noose. Dave grabbed at the headphones with sweaty hands. They slipped from his grasp as he fumbled to put them back on.
“Now, I know this is difficult for you Dave, but I want you to think about the consequences of your actions for once - perhaps for the first time in your life - because they will determine whether your fiancée lives, or dies...”
For all his flaws, for all his bad behaviour, Dave knew he loved Sarah. What the eyes don’t see won’t break the heart, he thought, I’m sorry babe, truly I am. I’ll make it all better; I won’t let them do this... Not to his Sarah. Nothing could get in the way of their wedding, the honeymoon; he had it all planned out.
And so, for once, Dave shut up - and listened.
Gwen sat in agitated silence waiting for the bathroom door to open. Jo hadn’t uttered so much as a single word since she’d emerged from Alligator’s ‘diary room’. Whatever he’d said to her in there just didn’t bear thinking about. And what could he be saying to Dave right now? Gwen had to admit to herself, she couldn’t help but thinking whatever it was, Dave had it coming - his laddish behaviour and smutty comments had been kind of fun at first. Jo seemed to be pretending to have a good time, but Gwen found her edgy mood a bit grating.
Conversely, Max seemed a little too wrapped up in himself, taking his ‘man of mystery’ persona a little too seriously for her liking. At least Dave had been game for a laugh, especially about his piercings and that bump on the head, crazy bastard. But as the game had progressed, and they’d all heard what Dave had been looking at on the web, Gwen had been given no choice but to reassess his personality - and she didn’t like her assessment, not one single bit. His clownish exterior was hiding something nasty, she felt sure of that, a strata of filth permeating his entire being.
