Gripping Thrillers

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Wow,” said Jules. “I had no idea the weather was so shit from in here.”

  Damien agreed with her. The glass windows must have been double – or maybe even triple – glazed.

  “Well, I hope they’re going to give us our luggage,” said an older woman named Catherine, “because it’s not right letting us freeze out in the cold. My creaking bones can’t take it.”

  “I totally forgot about our luggage,” Jules said, folding her arms to fight off the chill.

  Everybody filed out into the garden and started looking around. To Jade’s glee there was indeed a hot tub bubbling away and emitting the recognisable smell of chlorine. There were also a couple of benches around the perimeter and a long picnic table at one corner. The whole area was laid out like a grassy central courtyard, with buildings on all four sides. Directly opposite was an open door, but the other two buildings, the ones to the left and right of the courtyard, were just brick walls; no doors or even any windows. What one of the walls did have was a huge painting of the staring eye that seemed to be the television show’s logo. A large CCTV camera sat immediately above it.

  “That door over there is open,” said Jules, pointing.

  “Yeah it is,” Damien concurred. “Let’s go check it out.”

  Luckily Jade was already stripping down to her undies and leaping into the hot tub. It meant he could check out the other building in peace.

  The grassy area in the centre of the courtyard was almost a perfect square of about sixty-feet. It was large and heavily waterlogged, which meant it took them a good few paces before they reached the building on the opposite side. The door still remained open, just slightly ajar, suggesting it was okay to enter.

  Damien pushed the door wider and stepped through. He was pleased by what he found, but also a little dismayed.

  Guess this is the bedroom.

  Not exactly five-star.

  The large room consisted of six single beds – not enough to supply them all with a place to sleep. It could, of course, be just one of two bedrooms, one for the men and one for the girls. What really worried Damien, though, was the state of the beds themselves. They were antiques. Grimy sheets covered the threadbare mattresses atop rickety metal frames. They were not even fit to bed prisoners in.

  “No way am I sleeping on one of those,” said Danni, who entered the room behind them.

  “Me either,” said Jules. “What the fu-”

  “It’s just another game,” said Damien. “To see how we react.”

  Jules sighed and prodded at the bracelets on her skinny wrists. They looked like giant bangles in the dim light. “So you think there’s a real bedroom hidden somewhere?”

  Damien shrugged his shoulders. He was regretting his decision to enter the house more and more. “Maybe,” he said. “Or perhaps this is it.”

  “It can’t be!”

  “Makes sense,” said Danni. “With only six beds, there’s going to be conflict between us, choosing who gets one and who doesn’t. The mere fact that the beds are so awful is going to lead to a lot of grouchiness.”

  Jules leant back against the nearest wall and seemed to deflate. “They must really want us to kill each other.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” said Damien, “but it sure looks like they’re hoping for some good television.”

  “What the hell, man?” It was Alex. He had entered the bedroom and was now staring around in disbelief. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his smart suit jacket was gone. He looked a little sweaty and pale. “This can’t be the bedroom. There’s not even enough places to sleep.”

  “All part of the fun, I suppose,” said Damien. “I don’t want to sleep in one those things, anyway. I’m happy to opt out of having one.”

  “Me too,” said Danni.

  “Suit yourselves,” Jules said and headed off to the row of beds, “but even this is better than no bed at all.”

  “They’re all dirty,” said Danni, wrinkling her dark eyebrows and screwing up her plump lips in distaste.

  Jules stared back at the other woman as if she were an idiot. “It’s just theatrics. They probably just stained it with stage paint or something. It’s not going to be real muck on the sheets.”

  “Well, I’m not taking the chance,” said Danni. “You’re welcome to it.”

  “What about you, Alex?” Jules asked. “Best claim one now or you may not be able to later.”

  Alex looked at Damien and Danni for a few seconds and then shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the floor,” he said, and then took the bed next to the one that Jules had picked out for herself.

  Danni leant into Damien and placed a hand on his back. “See,” she said. “Alliances are already forming.”

  Damien looked at her and let out a sigh. He had no doubt that alliances would begin to form, but that didn’t mean that one was needed to win.

  He walked away from Danni and re-entered the garden.

  If I win this thing, I plan on doing it with my integrity intact. No alliances, no tactics. I’m just going to be me and hope that’s good enough.

  Harry wouldn’t accept it any other way.

  Suddenly Damien started to feel like winning the money might be out of his reach.

  5

  When everybody else saw the state of their sleeping arrangements they had been angry, yet had slowly come to the same conclusion: it was all part of the game. It was decided that the beds would be divvied up later and that those without would make do on the large sofa in the living area. It was only a problem if they made it one.

  The garden was chilly, but it was where half the group had congregated since the rain had stopped. Jade and a handful of others had settled into the hot tub with a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, while the other housemates took naps in various places both inside and out.

  Damien was sitting alone at the picnic table, his hands clutched together in front of him. There was a stain on its wooden surface that looked a little like paint or maybe even blood. It wouldn’t be the first time a clumsy woodman had left a piece of himself on the furniture he made.

  Damien was thinking about Harry and feeling guilty for having left him alone to run the business for the next two weeks. They worked well together. They were a team. Leaving behind their small woodwork shop felt like a neglect of duties. But Harry was the reason he was doing this. Harry needed money and Damien was trying to get it for him. He just hoped that his friend understood.

  Course he does. Harry is the most compassionate person I know.

  At least he was until recently…

  I really shouldn’t have left him alone.

  Damien’s mind was just about to take him down a dark alleyway when two people sat on the bench opposite.

  The couple were Lewis and Sarah. Lewis was an immigrant from the Ivory Coast, but had come to the UK as a child and, as such, had a strong Manchester accent. Sarah was an Office Supply Manager from Luton. The inactivity of her job was present on her curvy hips.

  Damien nodded to them both but chose not to speak. Sometimes he felt it easier to read people if you let them do the talking.

  Lewis was the one to start. “How you doing, mate? Bit surreal being in here, innit?”

  Damien nodded.

  “You doing okay?”

  Damien nodded again.

  “You’re Damien, right?”

  Damien nodded.

  “Sorry, are we annoying you?” said Sarah.

  Damien shook his head.

  “It’s just that you’re not talking back to us.”

  Damien thought about his intention to integrate and decided to open up before he annoyed them too much. “I was just a bit lost in thought. Sorry.”

  “That’s alright, mate,” said Lewis. “I get lost in a daydream now and then as well. So, what were you doing before you signed up to the show?”

  “Just working, I guess.”

  “And what do you do, Damien?” Sarah asked. She seemed to be getting a little irri
tated by his reticence.

  “I’m a carpenter,” he said, forcing a polite smile. “I run a little woodwork factory with my business partner. We sell bespoke pieces mainly, but we also help out local charities with various things they need. We just recently outfitted the local church with new pews.”

  Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Wow! I wouldn’t have expected that from seeing you. No offence, but you don’t seem like the caring type.”

  “Really?” said Damien. “How so?”

  “You just come across as a bit…standoffish.”

  “I’m just not good with people,” he admitted. “Perhaps I was hoping to overcome that by coming here.” It was a lie, of course, but he hoped it sounded convincing.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll have no problem making friends if you win a million quid,” said Lewis with a greedy sparkle in his round eyes.

  “Or two,” Sarah added, giggling and covering her mouth with a pudgy hand.

  Damien nodded his head. “Definitely. Is the money the main reason that you’re both here?”

  The two of them nodded. Lewis said, “Don’t think I can take the rat race much longer, mate. I dream of spending my days on a beach in Saint Lucia.”

  “Hey, that sounds nice,” said Sarah, turning to him and grinning. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”

  “Make it three,” said Damien giving another insincere smile.

  “ALL HOUSEMATES, PLEASE GATHER IN THE GARDEN.”

  It was voice of The Landlord. Damien frowned. He didn’t feel like getting up.

  Got to play by the rules, though.

  Those who were inside the house filed outside quickly. Jade and the others in the hot tub quickly towelled themselves off and pulled their clothes back on.

  Once everybody was gathered together in the centre of the grassy courtyard the landlord spoke again.

  “IN ONE MINUTE. YOU WILL BE PRESENTED WITH TWO CONTAINERS. EACH CONTAINER IS FULL OF HOUEMATES LUGGAGE.”

  “Sweet,” said Jules. “I want to grab a jumper. My nips are turning to rubber.”

  Everybody waited, looking around and wondering where exactly these containers were going to appear. Then the ground began to move, right in front of the huge painting of the eye logo.

  At the leftmost edge of the courtyard, a wide platform began to rise up on hydraulic stilts. The platform was topped with grass and had been indistinguishable from the rest of the ground until it had started to rise up on metal cylinders.

  “That’s pretty trippy,” said Lewis. “I would never have even known it was there.”

  Beneath the grassy platform was a pair of windowed enclosures. They looked a bit like space-age transporter pods from a sci-fi show. Each of the two glass pods was filled with suitcases.

  “That’s our luggage,” Jade shouted excitedly. “Thank fudge for that. I need my makeup. I look like a panda.”

  The platform stopped moving and locked audibly into place. Everyone in the garden looked around in confusion.

  “Do we try and open them?” Alex asked. He was back in his suit jacket again and had readjusted his tie.

  “BEHIND THESE TWO CONTAINERS IS A PAIR OF HANDHELD PUMPS. THESE PUMPS ARE ATTACHED TO A PAIR OF HOSES. TWO HOUSEMATES MUST BRING EACH HOSE INTO THE CENTRE OF THE GARDEN.”

  Everyone looked around at one another. Jade stepped forward and a half-second later, so did Alex. The two of them trod gingerly towards the glass containers and then navigated around to the back of them. They reappeared moments later with steel pipes the length of broom handles. The pipes were both attached to long red hoses.

  The apparatus seemed heavy and both Alex and Jade seemed to struggle while dragging them along the grass towards the rest of the group. When they finally managed it, The Landlord gave further instructions.

  “JADE AND ALEX. YOU HAVE OFFERED YOURSELF UP AS LEADERS. CHOOSE YOUR TEAMS AND MAKE THEM EQUAL.”

  Jade shrugged at Alex. “I’ll pick then you pick, one at a time, yeah?”

  Alex shrugged.

  “I pick Tracey,” said Jade.

  Tracey sauntered over to her teammate and smiled. Then she stood with a hand on her slender hip as if she were giving a pose to the paparazzi.

  Maybe she’s playing up for the cameras.

  “I pick Damien,” said Alex.

  Surprised to be picked so soon, Damien headed over to Alex and nodded his thanks.

  Jade made her next pick. “Catherine.” Catherine was another person that Damien was yet to really make an acquaintance with. She was the oldest housemate, along with the retired school teacher, Patrick. She wore thick round glasses which, along with her shrivelled face, made her look a little like a mole.

  Alex picked Jules.

  Jade picked the big guy, Chris.

  Alex: “Danni.”

  Jade: “Lewis.”

  “Patrick.”

  “Sarah.”

  Alex made the final pick. “Richard.”

  “NOW THAT YOU HAVE PICKED YOUR TEAMS, THE GAME CAN BEGIN. IN YOUR GROUPS, YOU EACH POSSESS A PUMP – NOT UNLIKE A BICYCLE PUMP. YOU MUST GRAB THE HANDLE AS A TEAM AND PUMP AIR INTO YOUR HOSES. THESE HOSES ARE CONNECTED TO A HYDRAULIC WATER TANK. THE FIRST TEAM TO FILL THEIR GLASS CONTAINER WITH LIQUID WILL WIN THE TASK.”

  Damien cleared his throat. “I don’t get it,” he said. “If we fill the tanks up with liquid the luggage inside will be ruined.”

  “THE TASK WILL BEGIN IN 10…9…8…”

  “Hey,” said Damien. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “7…6…5…”

  “Just get ready,” Alex ordered. “We need to win this.”

  “4…3…2…”

  Damien was about to protest further but decided there was no point. Being in the house meant submitting his will to the producers. If they wanted to mess around with him, what choice did he have? It was what he had signed up for and he would just have to go along for the ride.

  “1… START PUMPING.”

  Both teams began pumping frantically. Damien was a second or two late in helping his team due to his initial confusion. It was hard work to hold the pump firmly. The hose thrashed about wildly. Damien grabbed the lower portion of the pump and held it tightly so that the others could work the handle more steadily.

  The glass containers at the back of the courtyard began to rain liquid from their ceilings. They almost looked like the gunge booths you saw on Saturday morning kid’s shows.”

  “Come on,” shouted Alex, sweat already forming on his brow. His Adam’s apple bobbed beneath his collar. “Their tank is filling faster. Pump!”

  Damien struggled to hold the pump steady while his teammates worked away on the handle. Every successful pump resulted in a hiss of air entering the hose and a gush of liquid entering the tank. The containers were filling quickly. The liquid inside was clear except for the slightly brown hue that seemed to swirl in random currents.

  Both teams pumped furiously, all of them growing tired. Their faces bloomed red and their movements became slower and jerkier as if moving through clay.

  As the tanks became almost full, the contest was more or less even. Alex’s team were just a pump or two behind Jade’s.

  “Come on, come on,” said Alex. “We’re almost there.”

  A siren went off.

  “We did it,” cried Jade. “We won!”

  Alex looked over at the other team’s tank. It was full to the brim with the mysterious liquid. He threw the pump down on the floor and hissed. “Sod it!”

  “Sorry,” said Damien. “We’ll win the next one.”

  Alex shook his head and scowled. “If you hadn’t been messing around at the beginning we would have won.”

  Damien felt a twinge of aggression in his gut, a tiger being poked. He took a deep breath and petted it into submission. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Danni. “It’s just a game.”

  “A game we just kicked your arses at,” said Jade from over in her group. She was dancing aroun
d barefoot like an excited child.

  Alex muttered something under his breath. Damien tried to reach out to the guy and apologise again, but was shrugged away for his efforts.

  “Get the hell off me.”

  Damien tried to look apologetic, but he was finding it difficult to ignore the guy’s bad attitude. “Just chill, Alex. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Don’t tell me to chill. You just lost us this task.”

  “And you might lose the next one, so cut me some slack and I’ll do the same for you in the future.”

  “HOUSEMATES, THE TASK IS COMPLETE. JADE’S TEAM HAS FILLED THEIR CONTAINER.”

  Suddenly the liquid inside Jade’s team’s container ignited. The fluid inside must have been petrol or some other combustible liquid. The flames swirled around inside the obviously tempered glass. Smoke escaped from the top of the platform via an unseen vent.

  “What the hell?” said Jade. “That’s our luggage in there. They’re burning our luggage.”

  Damien stared into the flames as they continued to rage and consume. Leather and plastic melted and popped.

  The other container, the one that had belonged to Alex’s team, began to drain away. The liquid disappeared through the bottom of the glass compartment until it was once again empty of everything except for the luggage inside.

  Then it popped open like an Easter egg.

  “JADE’S TEAM. YOU MAY COLLECT THE LUGGAGE FROM THE LOSER’S CONTAINER. THIS LUGGAGE IS YOURS TO KEEP, REGARDLESS OF ITS FORMER OWNER.”

  Alex and the rest of his team looked at one another with confusion and a certain degree of persecution. Damien was perplexed. What exactly did The Landlord mean that Jade’s team could ‘keep the luggage regardless of its former owner’?

  Jade and her team wasted no time. They hurried up to the open container and began dragging out the cases inside. Six pieces of luggage in total – all random. They were sealed in plastic bags which had protected them from the liquid. Damien spotted his own suitcase immediately.

  “Hey, that one is mine,” said Damien, pointing to the black shell case.

  It was in the hands of Chris, who looked at him with an unfriendly sneer. “You lost, mate.”