by Michael Bray
Something in Fergusons tone of voice alerted Charlie to the fact that not all was well, and he forced himself to focus on exactly where he was – which appeared to be on the floor of a shipping container. As best as he could tell from his prone position, its walls and roof were red painted steel. Sunlight streamed through the open door on Fergusons back, as Charlie’s former classmate watched in fascination as the pieces started to fall into place.
“What’s going on Fergie?” Charlie asked, watching Ferguson carefully from the floor.
A breeze stirred the air in the shipping container, and Charlie’s disorientation was shattered by the awful stench that was pushed towards him by the air. He retched, and for a moment thought he was going to be spared the indignity of throwing up, but his stomach churned violently, and he vomited onto the floor, the ejecta pooling around his face as he struggled for breath.
“What the hell is that smell man?” He spat around stringy lumps of his own vomit.
Ferguson stood and strode towards Charlie, crouching on his haunches by his head. Charlie squinted up at him, the side of his face encrusted with the spoils of the previous night’s binge drinking.
“What are you going to do with me Fergie?” He whispered as Ferguson looked on, a wide grin on his face.
“I’m not going to do anything to you Charlie. Not in comparison to the hell you put me through at school that is.”
“We were just kids… I already said I was sorry.” Charlie spat.
“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is big, tough Charlie Priestley crying?”
“No man, I ain't crying, it’s that smell, its making my eyes water, it fucking stinks in here.”
“That would be because of Ringwood and Schofield.” Ferguson said as he grabbed Charlie and lifted him into a seated position, then dragged him towards the wall, propping him in a sitting position. He crouched and leaned close, glaring at Charlie from only inches away.
“I have been waiting for this day Charlie. I have been waiting for you, just like I waited for Ringwood and Schofield.” He rolled his eyes towards the back of the container. Charlie followed his gaze and saw the two bundles of rolled carpet. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew what was inside and also that the carpets were the source of the stench which had made him throw up. His suspicions seemed to be confirmed by the haze of flies which circled above the rugs, and the disgusting infestation of maggots which covered the cheap blue pile.
“Is that?... Did you?…” Charlie couldn’t get the words out. His brain was overloaded with fear as he stared at the rolled carpet which he was certain contained the corpses of his old school friends.
Ferguson stood and returned to his seat, placing his hands palms down on his knees.
“I feel like hell. What did you do to me?” Charlie snapped.
“Rohypnol. Knocked you clean out.”
“The date rape drug? What the hell did you do that for Fergie?” Charlie said, unable to hide the panic in his voice.
“I had to so I could bring you here.”
“And why am I here?” Charlie whispered.
“You are here Charlie because I have a few things I need to get off my chest.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things like the way you made my life hell you bullying son of a bitch.” Ferguson spat, the smile melting off his face.
“I thought that was behind us, you said…”
“I told you what I had to in order to get you here.”
“And what about them?” Charlie said, nodding to the maggot infested carpets at the back of the container. “What did you do to them?”
Ferguson smiled and shrugged. “Look, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. This is about us, not them.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to know why? Why out of all those kids, you chose me as the target? Why chose my life as the one you would make hell?”
“It wasn’t like that man, I was just a kid, I didn’t know any better.”
Ferguson went on as if Charlie hadn’t spoken, the wide, fixed grin still firmly in place.
“There were other kids of course, I know you and those asshole friends of yours always gave Paul Jennings a hard time, but I was always your favourite wasn’t I? It was always me who would be the target.”
“Look man I get it.” Charlie said, his voice shrill. “I owe you and I promise I'll make it up to you, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Ferguson said, tilting his head.
“Money, I can give you money. I have savings. Just let me go and you can have it all. No questions asked.”
“Oh yeah? How much are we talking here?” Ferguson said, pushing his glasses back up his face.
“Twenty grand, all yours if you just let me go.”
“You swear you will behave and give me the money if I cut you free?”
“I swear man, I promise!” Charlie said, nodding for effect. “I’ll take you straight to the bank and get you the money, right now, today. Just set me loose.”
“Okay then, it’s agreed. Twenty grand buys you your life. Deal?”
“Deal man, deal.” Charlie said, just waiting for the first opportunity to get his hands free so he could pummel the shit out of his captor.
Ferguson stood and fished a knife out of his pocket, unfolding the blade as he approached Charlie.
“Now lean forwards whilst I cut your restraints free.”
“You got it Fergie.” Charlie said as Ferguson crouched beside him. “I just want you to know that there will be no hard feeling here, we will just-”
Sharp, hot agony surged through Charlie’s finger, and he squirmed away from Ferguson, rolling on his back as Ferguson returned to his chair.
“You cut me, you fucking cut me!” Charlie yelped as he rolled in his own blood.
“Actually, I cut your finger off. Look.” Ferguson said as he dangled Charlie’s severed little finger between his own thumb and forefinger.
“We had a deal, why?….”
“Even now you haven’t changed.” Ferguson said as he tossed the severed finger towards Charlie, who was still rolling on his side in pain.
“I always knew when you were lying to me back at school Charlie, and age hasn’t made you a better liar.”
“But I have the money, I’m good for it!”
“I would be careful what you say next, unless you want to lose another finger.”
Charlie stopped rolling and touched his forehead to the ground. He was sobbing now, a mucus bubble in his nose contracting and expanding with every ragged, snorted breath.
“I don’t have it as such, but I’ll get you it. Every penny. I give you my word.”
Ferguson laughed. It was incredibly loud as it rolled around the container walls. “Twenty grand to me is nothing. Its pocket change. It just goes to show that even with assholes like you, Ringwood and Schofield riding my ass and making every waking moment of my school life hell, I still made more of myself than you ever will. And besides...”
Ferguson stood and walked towards the prone Charlie, who flinched as he neared. Ferguson helped his prisoner back to a sitting position against the wall, and then whispered in his ear. “I know everything about you.”
“Wha- what do you mean?” Charlie stammered as Ferguson returned to his seat.
“Just that. I know you Charlie. I know your life. I know that you are close to losing your home. I know you move from shitty job to shitty job because you don’t have the intelligence of the work ethic to really make a go of life. I know you have a drinking problem, and that was one of the reasons why Sophia left you.”
Charlie was staring open mouthed, trying to make sense of what was being said. Ferguson saw his reaction and laughed.
“You really think our meeting last night was an accident? It was all planned. Nothing was accidental. You haven’t taken a shit for the last two years without me knowing about it.”
“That’s sick! I always knew you were a weird one Fer
guson. This just proves it.”
“Sick?” Ferguson repeated, enjoying the show. “I’ll show you sick.”
He stood and walked towards Charlie, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a bundle of photographs.
“What are those? What you got there?” Charlie said, straining to see.
“You know Charlie, watching you live your pathetic little life was fun for a while. Then I even started to feel sorry for how much of a waster you were. The only thing you had going for you, was that wife of yours. Now she was smoking hot. Credit where it’s due, you did well there.”
“I swear to you if you have hurt her...”
“Relax, I didn’t hurt her. She never did anything to me, and so I have no reason to hurt her. See I am a pillar of this local community, I contribute. All of this may seem sick to you, but it’s what you deserve.”
Ferguson dropped the photos on the floor and spread them out with his foot so that Charlie could see them all, and when he did, his stomach rolled in disgust at what they contained.
They were of Ferguson and Sophia.
Charlie tried to tell himself as he looked at the photos that his wife had been forced into doing those things, but he could see by the look in her eyes and the way she was performing acts on Ferguson that she would never even dream of doing with him, that she was enjoying every moment of it.
“You son of a bitch, it was you.” Charlie said, glaring up at Ferguson. “You were the one who was screwing my wife!”
“It was.” Ferguson said with a smile. “More times than I care to remember. It took a while to worm my way into her life and get her interested, but once I did, she couldn’t get enough Charlie. She used to tell me how she hated you. Hated that you were a fat, washed up loser. Did you know that towards the end, she hated the feel of your touch? She said it used to make her feel sick. I used to make her call me your name while I did her in every single way you can imagine.”
“I swear to god, I’ll kill you.” Charlie hissed.
“Those threats won’t work on me anymore. I’m in control here.”
Charlie desperately wanted to take his eyes off the photographs, but couldn’t help but look, his emotions a bitter cocktail of jealousy, sorrow, and fury.
“Why are you doing this to me? You said so yourself, you have everything. A good job, a good life. Why bother with someone like me? Why screw my life up?”
Ferguson didn’t answer at first. He paced the container, hands clasped behind his back.
“Back when I was fourteen, I remember I was down by Goodson’s lake. Of course, we both know back then that I had no friends. You made sure of that. Remember Charlie? The way you made everyone afraid to be my friend in case you and your running buddies decided to turn on them. Do you remember that day?”
Charlie shook his head. “No man, I don’t remember anything.”
“Maybe it was lost somewhere in the shuffle. Easy to imagine when you made me miserable every damn day. Anyway, you remember how I had a thing for animals?”
Charlie didn’t answer. He was staring at Ferguson, trying to look unafraid, and failing miserably. Ferguson went on.
“Course you do, you used to ride me about it all the time. Fergie Faggot. Isn’t that what you used to call me? Anyway, I was minding my own business down by the lake. I remember I was collecting frogspawn. I always liked frogs you know Charlie. They were always my favourite. So I’m there with my bucket full of frogspawn, because I wanted to take some home and watch them hatch into tadpoles and grow. I was always going to put them back of course, I just wanted to see the process. But then you turned up, remember? You and those other two assholes who were never more than an arm’s length away.”
Ferguson smiled as he continued to pace.
“You have no idea how scared I was when I saw you. I mean really, really scared. I thought I was going to piss myself. And you of course made straight for me. You had this look in your eye, like all your Christmases had come at once. Do you remember what you did?”
Charlie still wasn’t speaking, and was now ignoring the photographs too. He was staring at the wall, his teeth clenched as he waited for what was coming.
“Of course you remember. I'll remind you anyway. Your buddies, Ringwood and Schofield held me down whilst you made me eat the frogspawn. Remember? You made me eat it all then you took my clothes and threw me in the lake. I almost got pneumonia. I was sick for two damn weeks. But as if that wasn’t humiliation enough, you went and told everyone at school. Do you have any idea how it feels to be ridiculed by everyone? Hell, I even saw one of the teachers laughing at me. A damn teacher. You made my life hell Charlie. Every single day.”
“I don’t know how many times I can tell you I’m sorry man. I was a dick at school I get it, but you have to admit you were weird. So damn quiet all the time.”
“It’s called lack of self-confidence, brought on by assholes like you.”
“Either way, don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction?” Charlie bellowed. “I tried to make amends; I tried to make it right.”
“Oh this isn’t right. Not by a long shot.”
The way Ferguson said it intensified the fear in Charlie, and he flicked his eyes towards the rolled carpets at the back of the container.
“So you are just going to kill me? Doesn’t that make you just as much of a bully as I was?”
“I’m not going to do a thing to you. I already told you. I may be out for a little payback, but I’m not a killer.”
Charlie looked at the rolls for carpet again, and this time Ferguson joined him in looking, then grinned.
“Relax. It’s not what you think.” Ferguson said as he returned to his chair.
“So if you aren’t going to kill me, what happens now?”
“I want you to be sorry Charlie. For everything you did to me.”
“I am sorry, I told you already, I don’t know how else to say it.”
“I think you need to take some time to really think about what you have done to me. You need to really learn to be sorry.”
It was then that Charlie knew what Ferguson had in mind.
“You're framing me for killing them aren’t you?” He said, nodding towards the rotting corpses at the back of the container. “You're going to make sure I spend the rest of my life in prison.”
“You aren’t as stupid as you look.” Ferguson said with a smile. “But I know you Charlie. You wouldn’t shut up until you convinced the police to investigate me. I just can’t risk that happening. No, I need you to learn true forgiveness. I need for you to really appreciate the isolation that I felt.”
Charlie looked around the container, and shook his head.
“Please no, not here. Not with them.” He said, his voice wavering.
“Yes, here with them. You need time to come to terms with what you did was wrong. More importantly, I need you to be sorry so I can finally move on with my life.”
“Please, don’t leave me here. It’s inhuman.”
“No more than some of the things you did to me.”
Charlie was broken. His lip trembled as he looked for any shred of compassion within Ferguson, but his cold stare said there was none.
“Come on man, I’m claustrophobic, please, I’m begging you not to do this.”
“Just like I begged you not to do all those things you did to me.”
“That was just kids’ stuff. It didn’t mean anything. I’ll die in here!” He looked at the open door. “Somebody, please help me!” He screamed. Ferguson made no effort to stop him, and simply laughed.
“You think I would be stupid enough to bring you to a populated area to conduct our business?” He asked, shaking his head.
“You really are a stupid fuck, aren’t you Charlie?”
“Charlie stopped screaming as Ferguson stood and walked to the doors.
“I don’t suspect we will see each other again Charlie. But I want to give you every chance to extend your life as long as possible. This container is t
wenty feet long and nine feet tall. Once the doors are locked, you will have air enough for three days, maybe four if you really take shallow breaths. That could all go to hell though once the isolation gets you. Schofield lasted two days. He panicked and used up all his air. Ringwood made it to four and a half, but the dark and isolation combined sent him off the rails.”
“You sick son of a bitch.” Charlie whispered.
“I wouldn’t expect you to experience something I hadn’t myself. I spent the night in here just last week in preparation for this. The dark is total, and the silence is deafening. Worse is the smell. You think its bad now with the door open, just wait until the air is closed out. It gets really, really bad.”
“If you want me dead just kill me. Shoot me, slit my throat with that damn knife of yours, anything but this. Please…”
“I’m sorry Charlie; this is how it has to be. Once I’m gone, you can feel free to scream, shout, and bang on the walls as much as you like. You are far enough away from anyone to hear or even find you. Just remember that screaming uses up air, and air for you, is about to become pretty precious.”
“What can I do to make you change your mind?”
Ferguson paused, and considered, and for a moment, there was absolute silence.
“Absolutely nothing.” Ferguson said, and then stepped outside. First swinging one door shut, and then partly closing the other.
“Please!” Charlie said as he tried to push himself up the wall to his feet, then fell back down, his nose and face smashing into the floor. He looked up at the door, his last tantalising glimpse of the outside world beyond.
“Ferguson... please…”
“Goodbye Charlie.”
Ferguson closed and locked the door, then sat in the sun, resting his head against the container door and listening to Charlie’s muted screams. He took the knife out of his pocket and etched three words into the dirt, then stood and admired his handiwork.
Long Tall Coffin.
He put the knife back into his pocket, took a deep breath of good clean air, then without looking back, made his way through the maze of storage containers. He didn’t feel bad. The world was a better place without bullying assholes like Charlie Brooks in it. Ferguson got in his car, switched on the radio, and went home to his family.
