Richard pulled so hard at his bracelets that blood began to flow down his wrists as flesh was shorn away by the sharp edges of metal. Mostly, though, they all fought the pain bravely. Each of them fought off the urge to scream in favour of a muffled growl of anguish. Danni hissed and rocked back and forth in the grass. Tears flooded down her cheeks. Damien tried to move over to her, but his muscles cramped and made the short crawl impossible.
“SPIN THE WHEEL, MAKE IT STOP.”
Damien felt a pinch in his neck, followed by a slight alleviation of pain. He was still in agony, but his muscles had unlocked and stopped their cramping. The Landlord was giving them all a taster of the relief available from the counter-agent.
“THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. SPIN THE WHEEL OR ALL OF YOU WILL DIE.”
“Screw you!” Damien spat.
“Yeah,” said Richard. “Bring it on. I love this shit.”
Everyone remained on the ground, in pain and waiting for more. They all remained resolute that this was how they wanted to go out, in a feat of courage and endurance – maybe even bravery. Perhaps for some of them it was a means of redemption, a baptism of fire.
Danni wobbled up onto her knees. She clutched at the grass in front of her and let out an animalistic moan.
“Just lie down,” Damien told her. “It will all be over in a minute.”
“I don’t want it to be over,” she said. “I don’t want to die.”
She began crawling on her hands and knees towards the wheel. She dug her fingers into the grass as she went, as if doing so would help propel her onwards.
“Don’t do it,” said Damien. “It will only result in more pain. We can end this now.”
“Get back here, bitch,” Richard said.
Danni shook her head and kept crawling forward. In normal circumstances, Damien could have caught up to her in a single stride but, overloaded with so much pain, he was forced to watch her make it over to the wheel.
When she got there, Danni used the scaffolds that held the wheel in place to pull herself back to her feet. Her legs were wobbly like a new born fowl, but she managed to stay upright. She placed both hands on the wheel and then let her full weight fall upon it. She collapsed to the ground, but not before giving the wheel a great big yank on the way down.
The wheel spun.
The faces and names of the housemates became a whirl as they chased each other in a circle. Each revolution of the wheel resulted in a click click click. It really was just like a game show.
The most twisted, messed-up game show of all time.
Damien watched in horror as the wheel began to slow down. The other housemates, including Danni, just lay on the grass and watched with wide eyes.
Click click click!
The wheel got slower and slower.
Click…click…click!
…click!
…
…
Click!
“HOUSEMATE DAMIEN WILL PERFORM TONIGHT’S SOLO ELIMINATION.”
Damien felt the counter-agent flood in through his collar. He sighed, not with relief, but with defeat. The torment was not yet over. Danni had condemned him to another task.
She lay several feet away, tears streaming down her face as she looked at him. She shook her head over and over and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
But apologies weren’t going to help anyone.
22
Danni had been apologising to Damien incessantly since the incident in the garden. He had already accepted her apology, saw no reason not to as it changed very little. He would just refuse the elimination task and do what he intended to do earlier. If Danni still held on to hope for survival then good for her. He would not begrudge her that.
Jade on the other hand was less forgiving.
“You bitch,” she shouted at Danni. “We all just went through a shitload of agony for no reason.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just don’t want to die.”
Jade shoved Danni hard, sending her stumbling back on her bare feet. “We’s gonna die anyhow. You just made damn sure it’s gonna hurt worse.”
Danni started crying. “Jade, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do what I did. I just couldn’t help it.”
Jade went to shove Danni again, but Damien stepped between the two women. “Come on. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”
“Like hell it is,” said Jade. “I’m going to fuck her up for what she just did.”
Danni whimpered.
Damien shot Jade a look that he hoped showed that he meant business. “Nobody is doing anything. We are going to sit down, have a drink, and wait for my task to begin. Anything else is just a waste of energy best spent elsewhere.”
Jade met his stare and seemed in no way threatened, but eventually she relented and took a step back. “Fine, but just so you know. I don’t trust that bitch. She’s been fanning around this place since the beginning like it’s a goddamn vacation. Why is it that everyone gets how serious this is but her?”
“I do understand the situation we’re in,” Danni said. “I just haven’t given up yet.”
“Cus you haven’t felt no pain yet. At least, not like the rest of us. I swear, next chance I get I’m sending you into that white room.”
“Enough with the threats, Jade,” said Damien. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you haven’t been in an elimination task either.”
Jade held up her left hand covered in a thick bandage. “There’s a reason for that!”
“We’ve all done what we’ve had to to stay alive, so why blame Danni for doing the same?”
Jade rolled her eyes and gave up the argument. “I’m just saying that I don’t trust her. She ain’t like the rest of us.”
I know, Damien thought. She’s the only one here who is actually innocent.
“HOUSEMATE DAMIEN, PLEASE ENTER THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER.”
“What are you going to do?” Richard asked him.
Damien sighed. I’m going to go inside, see what the score is. Likelihood is that I’ll refuse the task. That might mean the rest of you getting a dose from the bracelets. You good with that?”
Richard nodded. “Do what you have to do. Nothing’s changed from earlier. I’m still tired of this shit.”
Damien nodded and turned away. He marched over to the elimination chamber’s door and felt a growing numbness. Even the fear of pain, and the agony itself, was becoming tolerable. For the most part he was already dead.
He opened up the door and stepped inside the white cube room. This time in the centre was a small table with a glass box on it. From over by the door, it was unclear what was inside the box.
“HOUSEMATE DAMIEN, YOU WISH TO DIE SO HERE IS YOUR OPPORTUNITY. IN THE CENTRE OF THE ROOM IS A BOX. INSIDE THE BOX IS THE TOOL YOU NEED TO END YOUR LIFE. PLEASE PICK IT UP.”
Not yet following, Damien went over to the glass box and opened it up. He found an ornate looking revolver inside of it. It was heavy in his hand.
“IN YOUR HAND IS A WEBLEY MK. IV REVOLVER. IT TOOK THE LIFE OF GERMANS IN BOTH WORLD WARS. NOW IT MIGHT TAKE YOURS. A SINGLE BULLET SITS WITHIN ITS SIX CYLINDERS. YOU MUST FIRE THE REVOLVER AT YOUR SKULL ONCE AND THEN AT THE CEILING ONCE. REPEAT THIS UNTIL YOU ARE EITHER DEAD OR YOU HAVE FIRED THE BULLET AT THE CEILING. IF YOU ARE STILL ALIVE AT THE END OF THE TASK, YOUR RIGHT BRACELET WILL BE REMOVED.”
Damien’s eyes went wide. Did he just hear right? If he survived this sick game of Russian roulette then he would be half way to escaping the neurotoxin clamped around his wrists.
Are they seriously considering letting a winner go at the end of all this? Or is it just a sick game to make us all think there’s a way out.
Damien felt sure that the gesture was just a ploy designed to prevent a revolt like the one that happened earlier in the garden. Still, it was a means to an end. If Damien got one of the bracelets off then he only had one more to worry about.
Damien nodded and raised the pistol up against the side of his head. He closed h
is eyes and had to stop himself from chuckling. Of all the times he had seen this kind of thing in the movies, he never once imagined that it would happen to him.
Well, it’ll be a story to tell the grandkids if I ever get out of this hellhole.
Damien took a deep breath and placed his forefinger against the trigger. Slowly he applied pressure.
Click!
A great gust of relief burst forth from Damien’s lungs and he actually laughed, somewhat maniacally.
He pointed the revolver at the ceiling and pulled the trigger again.
Click!
Damn it. Two down, one in four chance left.
He placed the revolver’s muzzle back against his temple and took in another deep breath and held it. He squeezed the trigger again.
Paused for a moment.
And then…Click!
Jesus goddamn bleeding Christ.
He let out another sigh of relief.
He pointed the revolver back at the ceiling and pulled the trigger.
Click!
Oh God no. Fifty-fifty chance left. Heads I live, tails I die.
Damien took a few, increasingly anxious breaths and felt his heart beating right up against his ribs. His lungs no longer obeyed him and pumped erratically on their own.
Slowly, he lowered the revolver back to his head. He nudged the muzzle against his temple. If this bullet was going to kill him, he wanted to make sure it went straight through his brain; none of that lodged in the right/left hemisphere and paralyzed for life palaver. If this was it, he wanted to do it clean. He pressed the revolver harder against his skull, causing stars to invade his vision.
Here goes. My dad always said there was honour in dying by a bullet.
Fuck him!
Damien pulled the trigger.
Click!
“Jesus effing Christ,” he said out loud. A huge smile had taken control of his face and he was gushing as excited breaths spilled forth from his lungs.
He quickly pointed the revolver at the ceiling and pulled the trigger one last time.
Bang!
The explosion of the bullet leaving the chamber made Damien cry out in fright, but he was soon back to laughing as ceiling plaster rained down on him like snow.
“Woo! That shit was intense. I’m alive, baby!”
Damien felt positively insane and he had to mentally take note to take control of himself. He forced his breathing to slow down and tried to calm down. The urge to take a piss became urgently strong. Even after resigning himself to death, the act of avoiding the grim reaper through a game of chance had reignited a fuse inside of him that he thought had gone out.
The bracelet on Damien’s right wrist suddenly sprung open and hit the floor with a clank. The relief was instant and he immediately started rubbing at the irritated flesh that had been held captive for so many days. Suddenly it felt like freedom was a tangible pursuit, and not just the hopeless dream it had seemed earlier in the day.
Damien was still feeling a little manic, but he was calming down gradually as he began to have several thoughts; amongst them was one clear intention.
I’m going to get out of this goddamn house alive.
“CONGRATULATIONS, HOUSEMATE DAMIEN. PLEASE LEAVE THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER.”
Damien did as he was told.
Day 8
Damien hadn’t realised the weight of the bracelets until one of them was gone. As he lay now on the sofa, staring out at the dew-soaked grass of the garden, he couldn’t help but rub at his liberated wrist over and over again.
Last night he had actually managed to get a little sleep. From the snoring going on around him, so did everybody else. With one of Damien’s bracelets gone, they had all opened up to the possibility that they might get out of there. There was a chance that the winner would be set free – and maybe the runner up as well.
If The Landlord actually kept his word and honoured the contest, then it made everything a muddled mystery again. If all the housemates were there to die, then it was easy to believe that this was all just a revenge for hire scheme that people had paid into. But if anybody was allowed to walk out of here alive then things were obviously more complex than that. What about the person that had paid for revenge? Would they accept their candidate walking free? If there was a winner at the end of all this, then was it really a game show? And if so, then who the hell was watching?
Now that he had stirred from slumber, there was no way that Damien could fall back to sleep, so he got up from the sofa and went over to the kitchen. The last resupply had provided them with some fresh coffee and tea as well as the usual ample amounts of alcohol. Damien thumbed the switch for the kettle and took a seat on the stool as he waited for the water inside to boil.
Back home, he would often stick the kettle on for Harry, who was an avid tea drinker. Damien preferred coffee. In light of what had happened concerning his bracelets, he wondered if there was still the opportunity to win the prize money. If the two million pounds really did exist, there was still a chance to save Harry. However slim the chance for a cure might be.
Harry’s sickness had come on very suddenly. It had started with a few strange comments about his friend ‘Lucas’ and had progressed to wild tales about ‘a blanket of snow covering the Earth.’ Damien had no idea what delusions Harry was talking about and at first assumed his friend had started drinking again. But then, one day, after several bouts of severe headaches, Harry pointed at Damien and said, “You! You froze to death. What are you doing here? You’re dead.” Just as Damien was about to reply, to say that enough was enough, a violent gout of blood burst forth from Harry’s nose and he collapsed to the ground unconscious.
The ambulance had arrived and carried Harry away. Twenty four hours and several tests later, doctors confirmed that he had a brain tumour. It was the reason for his bouts of confused babbling and manic delusions, and it was killing him.
Damien had wept, perhaps for the first and only time in his life. When his father had gone away to prison he had felt almost nothing, but the thought of Harry leaving was too much to bear. Despite having changed so much, Damien didn’t think he could continue on the same path without Harry’s guidance. He selfishly needed his friend to stay alive so that his own life was not upended back into the chaos he had only just managed to claw his way out of. Most of all, though, Damien couldn’t face Harry dying because he loved the man. He was family. Harry was a father in the true sense of the word; not through biological potluck or obligation, but through genuine affection and loyalty.
I can’t lose you, man. I have to get out of here.
Damien forwent his favoured drink of coffee and poured himself a cup of tea. He then took the steaming beverage over to the sofa and sat down in the spot where he had been sleeping for the last few hours. It was still warm.
For once, Danni had not slept beside him. He assumed that she was still feeling guilty about spinning the wheel when everybody else had decided not to. Although, as things turned out, it hadn’t been a bad thing that she did. If there was a chance that somebody could get out of here alive, then what Danni did was fortuitous.
Although it could all just be a ruse to make us start participating in the games again.
Damien knew that there was still a large, even more likely possibility that all of them would still die inside the house, but they had nothing to lose by hoping otherwise. If Damien could just get the other bracelet off his wrist…
He took a sip of his tea and sighed as it relaxed him. It was a simple pleasure. He then took some time to study his fellow housemates – the final competitors.
Jade lay asleep in a star shape, legs and arms sprawled outwards. She slept like she lived, loudly and with little regard for those around her. Richard lay beside her. His body was folded in, arms and ankles crossed. The racist piece of shit had fallen in line somewhat since their situation became more desperate, but Damien hadn’t forgotten the man’s true colours or what he had done to Lewis. Richard was a remorseless ani
mal and that could not be forgotten. If anybody deserved to be here it was him.
Then there was Jules. What the woman had done to her sister was reprehensible, but was it due to malevolence or mere selfishness. From what he knew of Jules, she was an anxious, emotional person. Her insecurities may have been more to blame for her past actions than an actual desire to cause pain. Out of everybody who had had their sins exposed, hers were perhaps the most forgivable – the most human.
Maybe that’s why Danni tried to palm the story off as her own.
Jules slept silently and still, more at peace than the nervous worrier that she was while awake. In fact, out of all of them, Jules was the only one who made no sound at all while she slept.
Jade’s eyes fluttered and she was awake, staring directly ahead. Then she took in her surroundings and saw that Damien was awake as well.
“Morning,” he said to her softly.
She smiled at him glumly while rubbing at her eyes with a balled up fist. “Morning. Did I miss anything?”
Damien shook his head. “I’ve only just woken up, but everybody’s limbs seem to be attached, so no change yet.”
Jade chuckled. “Ever get the feeling you took a wrong turn in life?”
“All the time, but not lately. I don’t care what these maniacs think I’ve done, I know that I deserve to live out the rest of my life. I’ve made mistakes in my life, but I’ve owned up to them. I don’t answer to these tossers.”
“Then who do you answer to?”
Damien shrugged. “My conscience. And right now it’s clear.”
“I hope one of us gets out of this alive,” said Jade. She let out a long sigh. “And if it’s me, I’m gonna make sure I bring these fuckers down.”
Damien placed a finger against his lips. “Best keeping those intentions to yourself. You don’t know what they can see and hear.”
Jade nodded thoughtfully. Her usually impulsive nature seemed subdued this morning. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve always needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. Perhaps I’ll work on that if I get out of here.”
Gripping Thrillers Page 48
