by Matt Shaw
“All housemates must return to the bedroom immediately.”
“So basically whoever gets the one hundred thousand pounds is the one who has to be prepared to kill everyone else in the house…” Chris and Fiona were looking at Philip’s body. He continued, “I don’t know about you but I don’t need the money that much…”
“Neither do I,” said Fiona, “but - at the same time - I don’t want to die either.”
Chris looked at Fiona. All trust that may or may not have been there - in that split second - was gone for good.
Georgia said, “This was supposed to be fun. A good way of spending the summer vacation. Something to help my career…How did we end up here?!”
“All housemates must return to the bedroom immediately or face the consequences!”
Georgia screamed, “How did we end up here?!”
B E F O R E
G E O R G I A S A N G S T E R
D A Y O N E
After an initial chat to the camera (and, therefore, the viewers) whereby the show’s concept was explained, the female presenter - a pretty girl in her early thirties who’d not been seen on television too much before this - lead the way through the house showing off the various rooms it had to offer and where the housemates would be spending the next eight weeks of their lives - unless, of course, they were eliminated.
One of the highlights in the house included a jacuzzi hidden underneath a small canopy in the garden ensuring they could enjoy a dip no matter the weather. The garden itself was a good size with plenty of room for the housemates to have their own space if it were required - and the producers knew that it would be. Inside the house - everything was open plan with the exception of the bedroom. There was only one bedroom. A room filled with double beds and single beds. To the casual observer the bedroom would look like a place of sanctuary for the housemates to rest in - without fear of being disturbed by anyone still milling around the rest of the house. In reality - it was the perfect place to lock them in whilst the production team set the other rooms up for whatever ‘games’ they had in mind for their guests.
The presenter - Emily - sat in The Control Room’s large chair and spoke directly to the room’s one camera.
“And there you have it - a very impressive looking house… But there’s just one thing missing.” She leaned forward to the camera, “We need some housemates!”
One of the show’s producers spoke into the ear-piece in Emily’s ear informing her they had gone to an ad break. She had two and a half minutes to get out of the house and into position on the main stage, by the front door of the house, ready to greet the applicants who’d successfully made it to this stage of the show.
Emily slipped through the side door of The Control Room, which was meant as a fire escape, and negotiated the winding corridors, around the exterior of the main part of the house, until she got to a large set of double doors. She pushed them open and stepped out onto the metal walkway which paved her way towards the main stage, surrounded by a cheering crowd - all of whom were waving signs around with various messages saying “Hi” to their friends watching at home.
Emily took her position in front of one of the cameras - centre stage. She watched as a couple of crane-mounted cameras swept over the cheering audience. The people frantically waving their homemade signs in an effort to be noticed by the people at home. A producer - once again in Emily’s ear - warning her to be ready - the cameras were about to roll once more.
“Welcome back!” she chirpily said to the camera (audience at home). “So - who wants some housemates in there?” she asked. The audience cheered. “Let’s bring on Housemate Number One!”
Emily turned her back to the camera and faced a large plasma screen which hung on the wall of the main house. The screen was showing the show’s logo. A split second later and it was replaced with the image of Georgia. She was sitting on a stool, in front of the camera, talking to someone off-shot. Her name flashed up on the bottom left of the screen.
“What would I do to win? Absolutely anything,” she laughed. The video cut to various shots of Georgia acting the fool; cartwheels in her garden, messily cooking a cake in the kitchen, laughing with friends all sitting around a dining room table eating the cake she’d been baking. Her voice played over all of the scenes, “My name is Georgia, I’m twenty-four years old and I’m just your typical fun-loving crazy girl! When I’m not out partying with my friends, there is nothing more I like than baking. One day I hope to open my own cake shop! What kind of housemate would I make? I’ll be the fun one! I’ll definitely be dragging the others up from their seats to dance and party! And if they don’t - well…I’ll let them know how boring I actually find them!” The video cut to her sitting in front of the camera again, “I don’t suffer fools gladly and boring people can just do one!” A close up shot of her face as she repeated her video’s opener, “What would I do to win? Absolutely anything!” she laughed and the video cut back to the show’s logo.
Emily turned to the camera, “Let’s bring out the first housemate!”
The crowd cheered as a black limousine drove down the road towards the red carpet which lead the way to the stage where Emily was waiting, microphone in hand. Her blue eyes were fixed upon the limo as it rolled to a stop - turning at the last minute to ensure the back door was in line with the carpet. A security man stepped forward, and opened the door. Georgia stepped out to the sound of cheers from the waving crowd. She had a huge grin on her face - like all of her Christmases had come at once - as she ran down the red carpet, slapping hands with all those who held their palms out for her.
She stopped at the end of the carpet, before the few stairs to the stage, and struck poses for the handful of camera crew. When Emily felt as though the press had taken enough shots - she urged Georgia to join her on the stage.
“So what can we expect from you?” Emily asked.
“Fun!”
The crowd reacted positively.
“Well then get yourself in there!” Emily ushered her towards the stairs. Georgia wasted no time. She ran up the metal stairs to the platform leading towards the entrance to the house. She turned to the crowd and gave them a wave before the door opened and she stepped in. The door slammed shut behind her and the screen - hanging on the exterior wall for the crowds - showed her walk down a narrow corridor towards the next set of doors.
Emily turned to the camera, “Well it’s not going to be much fun with only one housemate…Who wants another?” her voice rose at the end of the sentence in order to encourage more screams from the waiting crowds.
N O W
Georgia was sitting in the corner of the bedroom. It wasn’t her bed but she didn’t care. The bed belonged to Philip but it was fairly clear he wasn’t going to be using it anymore. She wiped a tear from her eye - a tear spilt because of her situation as opposed to worry about another life lost.
All of the housemates had been locked in the bedroom once more. At least this time they knew why. The production team was out there clearing away the body and blood spilt. No one was really talking. Karen was on the bed she shared with Jordy, neither speaking nor crying. Jack was on the double bed he once shared with Morgan. Stuart was on his bed in the other corner of the room - the one he was supposed to share with Paul. Kate and Fiona were on theirs and Chris was sitting on the edge of his. Only Paul was up and about. He was standing in the bathroom, next to the sink, frantically scrubbing the blood from his face. By now he couldn’t tell whether it was the remnants of Morgan’s blood, spat at him earlier, or whether it was splatter from Philip’s corpse. It didn’t matter - whosever blood it was, he wanted it off.
“Congratulations housemates!” The Controller’s eerily jovial voice boomed over the intercom system making some of the housemates jump. “You have all survived the first week! Eliminations will continue next Friday! Who has what it takes to win one hundred thousand pounds?” The voice crackled off and the intercom went silent. No one seemed happy.
Stuart cal
led over to Jack, “Hey.” Jack looked at him but didn’t answer him, “You mind if I bunk up with you?” he asked.
Jack had lost his bed fellow earlier that day so it was fair to assume he wouldn’t have minded sharing the bed with someone else - especially someone who was seemingly uncomfortable about sharing a bed with a murderer - but, even so, he just wanted to be alone. Given half the chance, he would have walked out the front door there and then and returned to his own home - the quiet sanctuary he had left behind. Sure the money would have been nice, welcomed even, but it wasn’t worth this. Had it not been for Karen’s desperate pleas to go home being unheard earlier, he would have tried the same. He rolled onto his side - away from Stuart. Stuart took the hint and looked at the others in the room in the hope someone would offer him some space. Every one avoided eye contact.
The bathroom door opened and Paul stepped into the room. The door slammed behind him. No one turned to him. If anything, they seemed keen to avoid eye contact.
“Are we not even going to talk about it?” he asked.
Silence.
“No one?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Jack stood up. He didn’t step towards him though. He stayed rooted on the spot right where he was. “You killed him. You shot him. Not just once.”
“I had to. We had to eliminate someone else,” Paul argued, “you heard The Controller.”
“The Controller? Some sicko sitting behind a monitor controlling us like puppets?! All we had to do was sit there and do nothing. If we don’t listen to them then they have no show. No show, they have to let us all go.”
“Do you really believe that?” Paul’s voice raised by a slight notch.
“You think the authorities will allow them to air a show where contestants kill each other? They’re probably on their way now. All we had to do was sit tight and wait but now,” he paused, “now you’ve put yourself in the firing line. Just like Philip. The man you killed.”
Paul visibly calmed himself down and took a moment to collect his thoughts, “And what if the show doesn’t go out until the series is over?” he said. The room fell silent. They presumed it would have been airing on a day to day basis from the moment they went into the house with the crowd cheering them. It wasn’t until Paul mentioned it now that the thought of the show not airing immediately sunk in. Paul continued, “For all we know the show won’t end until all but one of us is dead.”
“If we don’t play the game, they’ll have to let us go!” Chris took Jack’s side.
“Three of our group are dead. One of them was the result of The Controller himself but the other two are dead because of the actions of the people in this house, do you really think they’ll just let us all leave peacefully when there’s a strong possibility of us going straight to the police? Or do you think there’s a good chance they’ll clean their mess up and just do away with all of us?” Paul argued.
“They can’t just kill us. Our friends, our families… They all know where we are.”
“Because we signed a contract and said where we were going?” asked Paul.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Kate piped up from next to Fiona.
Fiona shook her head, “I didn’t.”
“None of us were supposed to tell anyone. We signed stating we wouldn’t. All housemates need to remain anonymous until the show begins. Remember that clause in the contract? You did read it right? Who else didn’t say anything to their family or friends?” Jordy, Chris, Stuart put their hands in the air along with Kate and Fiona. “I didn’t say anything either.”
“Well that’s fine. I did. And I’m glad I did,” said Jack. He turned to Karen and Georgia, “Who did you tell?”
“I told my mum,” said Karen.
“My friends. It just slipped out,” Georgia looked sheepish.
“That’s fine. My family, Karen’s family and your friends - they all know where we are.”
“No!” Paul raised his voice again. “They know what the production team wanted us to know and nothing more than that. X amount of weeks, one winner, one hundred grand prize… Do you honestly believe they’d have information on that contract which could lead people right to where we are? You really think these people - the ones who are playing us off each other - are stupid enough to not cover their tracks one hundred percent of the way?” he hesitated, “Well I’m glad you’re confident because I’m not. The way I see it - we’re here for the duration.” The room fell silent again. Paul made his way back to the bed he was supposed to share with Stuart. As soon as he was close, Stuart turned away and looked in the opposite direction. Paul stood on the spot. “We aren’t bed partners anymore?” Paul turned back to the group, “Okay so we do as you say and we don’t play their games anymore… Can you honestly say you trust everyone in this house?”
B E F O R E
D A Y T W O
Paul and Jack were sitting in the comfortable outdoor chairs in the garden. They were watching the rest of the group, through the window, socialising in the living area. Paul took a drag on his cigarette as he watched Morgan jump up from the sofa only to start bouncing around the room in what appeared to be a high state of excitement. “I’m not sure about Morgan. I mean - what is he doing now? That - that’s not normal behaviour.”
“He is a little…” Jack hesitated. Unlike Paul he wasn’t smoking. He was simply there to keep his new friend company since they had become close from the moment they met.
“Say it,” Paul pushed him.
“Over the top.”
“Over the top? The guy is a fucking moron. He’s not over the top. Just a fucking moron.”
They both laughed as Paul took another drag on his cigarette.
He puffed the smoke out, “I don’t know - I just don’t trust him.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Jack argued, “he seems…”
“He seems like he is over-compensating for something. He seems like he is hiding his true character. The Morgan we’re seeing is just a show to try and make us like him.”
“Well he’s not doing a very good job then,” Jack laughed.
“Too right. I just want to bash his brains in.”
“Bit aggressive…” Jack laughed again.
N O W
Paul asked the question again, “Well? Can you honestly say you trust everyone here in this house?”
Jack argued back, “Well I don’t know - if you asked me the other day… Say back on the second day where you yourself were telling me you didn’t trust someone… Then I would have said I did. I may not have liked some individuals as much as others but…”
“So you trust everyone enough to say they won’t take your life given half the chance?” Paul cut him short. Jack didn’t say anything. He looked from face to face as each looked back at him waiting for a response.
“I don’t know. I thought I could. But then I thought you were a decent person too so - I don’t know - maybe my sense of judgement is completely out of the window.” Jack sat back on the edge of the bed. Clearly he’d had enough of arguing. Especially as he knew it wasn’t going to get him out of the situation.
Georgia piped up, “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“No one wants to kill anyone,” Paul told her.
Chris butt in, “Really? Because - from where I was sitting - you seemed pretty eager to put a bullet in Philip.”
“If I hadn’t - who is to say he wouldn’t have picked the gun up and shot you. Or anyone else here for that matter? He had already killed one person and he didn’t seem too fussed about that - sitting here, on the bed, acting as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth…”
“To be fair, he is right…” Jordy was the only housemate to stand up for Paul.
“Going by your logic,” Jack argued, “that means you’re fair game. After all - you killed someone so what’s to say you haven’t got a taste for it and want to kill more?”
“You’re being stupid.”
“Is he?” Chris said. “You killed Philip be
cause you were worried he might have killed someone else - maybe yourself or maybe one of us. But what’s to say he killed Morgan because of the very same reasoning? Kill or be killed? You’re saying it is okay for you to protect yourself but not for him to do the same?”
“He drew first blood…”
“Because he was told to by The Controller. He probably thought - if he said no - then someone else would be given the poison to use.”
“We should just tell them we don’t want to partake anymore,” Karen interjected. “They might let us leave voluntarily.”
“We’ve already established that isn’t very likely,” Stuart told her. “Paul’s right, they’re not going to let us walk out of here. They can’t afford to. If we want to survive - we’re going to have to play their sick games.”
“We’re going to have to kill each other?” Karen whimpered.
“No one is killing anyone,” said Jack.
“Okay so we don’t play along - what is your great plan? Because, from where I am sitting, there aren’t many options.”
Chris pointed to the far wall, “What about that?” he suggested.
The group turned to where he was pointing, towards a fire exit door.
“You want to walk out?” Stuart asked.
“Why not?”
“Well - for one - we don’t know what is on the other side of the door. They may take an attempt to walk out as a sign we aren’t playing their game anymore giving them all the excuses they need to terminate the programme - and, more specifically, us.”
“Then why have the emergency door there?” Stuart asked.
“Keeping up appearances,” Paul stepped in again.
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” Chris yelled.
“Let’s just wait and see what happens in the morning. You heard The Controller - we’ve all survived the first week. Eliminations will continue next Friday. Maybe one of us can talk to them tomorrow and - I don’t know - try and figure out what is going on.”
