Cheryl was not a good judge of character, but the self-loathing in Leo’s voice sounded real enough. Perhaps he really had made a mistake. Maybe John had needed to be taught a lesson.
She gave him a hug. “If we get out of this alive,” she said, “you have a lot of making up to do.”
“Yeah, I hear you. My chances of getting you in the sack just plummeted, huh?”
She patted him on the shoulder. “And you were so close!”
There was a strange animal sound and it caused them to turn around. Alfie and Monty were hurriedly clearing a space next to John while Maggie vomited a stream of hot vomit onto the floor. John tried weakly to reach out and help her, but his dismembered hand, still partially attached, twisted and he slammed back against the wall, hissing in pain.
Cheryl hurried to help Maggie, but her convulsions were too powerful to restrain when she got there. Stomach contents pooled everywhere, sending up a foul smell.
“I told you,” said Alfie, covering his mouth with his hand. “Somebody switched her pills. She’s been poisoned.”
Maggie caught a breath between heaves. The whites of her eyes were bloody. “Oh god, please help me. I’m dying.”
Leo helped Cheryl hold Maggie while she heaved again, spewing another pint of vomit onto the floor. They looked at one another and shared the same unspoken thought: This is bad.
6
Alfie was backed up against the wall as if he worried the growing puddle of vomit might touch him and make him ill. “What the hell is wrong with her?”
Maggie heaved again. This time only a few strings of saliva hung from her mouth. Her stomach was empty. Now, all she could do was wretch out her own insides. Cheryl tried to soothe the woman, but she was on a different plane — one where only misery and sickness exist. To make matters worse, John’s wrist had started bleeding again. His tourniquet had loosened during his attempt to reach out and help Maggie. Monty was busy trying to re-tighten the belt and scarf, but his trembling brown hands turned red with slippery blood.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” said Leo, clawing at his bony cheeks in an expression of lunacy. His panic was the most frightening thing of all. His faith that things would all work out okay had finally faltered. “Just let us out,” he yelled up at the shaft where the ladder had once been. “Please!”
Of course there was no answer.
Except for a high-pitched beeping.
It sounded like a van reversing, or a particularly petulant microwave, and yet it took a moment for everyone to notice the sound — Maggie’s heaving was still in full force — but once they had, they looked around anxiously.
“What is that?” John asked wearily. He was slumping more and more to his side, near to passing out.
“It’s a bomb,” said Alfie in a toneless voice, like he was somehow hollow. “We’re all screwed.”
Cheryl realised no one was going to investigate the beeping — they were all frozen in place — and as it showed no signs of stopping, she climbed to her feet to go take a look for herself. She brushed herself off. “I’ll go see what’s making that noise.”
Monty climbed up beside her, now covered in John’s blood. He even had it on his cheeks. “I’ll go with you.”
She felt better with company, so gave no objection, but was surprised that it hadn’t been Leo to offer. He was still struggling to get a grip. Best to let him have some space.
Cheryl moved through the centre of the tunnel with Monty at her left. She took small, cautious steps, her mind conjuring images of spikes shooting up out of the floor and giant boulders dropping on her head. With what had happened to Happy, John, and now Maggie, this was no longer about escaping a room, it was about escaping death.
The beeping came from directly in front of her, and what Alfie had said about a bomb could well be true. An unexpected explosion might suddenly consume her face, or even the whole tunnel, but maybe if she found it she could—
What? Diffuse it? Just cut the red wire, right? Or is it the blue?
She chuckled at the madness of own thoughts and wondered if she was losing her mind. Monty saw her smiling and was understandably confused. “You okay?”
“Sorry, I’m just a bit on edge.”
Monty reached out to touch her but hesitated. His hand hovered over her back for a second, and then he tentatively patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry I never made more of an effort to get to know you, Cher. Turns out you’re a pretty smart girl.”
“Oh, um, thanks. Never too late to make amends, I guess.”
Monty laughed, and considering their current situation it was indeed a pretty funny statement. It could well be far too late to make amends.
They got closer and closer to the beeping until she and Monty came to a stop. They looked down by their feet. Was the noise coming from beneath them?
Monty prodded at the steel with the toe of one of his loafers. “You think there’s a room underneath us?”
Cheryl bent at the knees and brushed the ground with her fingertips. It didn’t feel like there was anything beneath them — the ground felt solid and whole — but the beeping was definitely coming from below. Then she saw it and wondered how she hadn’t sooner. “There’s a compartment here, look.”
Monty eyes widened as he saw what she was pointing to. “Okay, let me take a look. It could be dangerous.”
Cheryl found that a little sexist, but she didn’t prevent Monty from kneeling. From the way he moved her aside gently, she decided he only wanted to keep her safe.
At the front end of the tunnel, Maggie’s retching finally stopped and the beeping became the only sound. John had fallen unconscious again, and Alfie sat next to him, rocking back and forth with an arm wrapped around his knees. Leo was still in a bad way, pressing his forehead against the wall and whispering to himself.
They were all in a bad way.
Monty ran his fingertips around the edge of the compartment she had found until he discovered a pair of small grooves in the floor. There was space enough only to insert his fingernails, but it turned out that the panel was only a thin sheet of metal the size of a paperback book. It came up easily.
Inside the compartment, a red bulb blinked in time with the beeping. A small plastic device sat next to the bulb and while Monty probably should have been cautious, he reached right in and grabbed it. A sharp click sounded and he froze. “Shite! Shite! Shite! What did I just do? What did I just do?”
Cheryl froze too, not knowing what to expect other than something bad, but when a little time passed, she slowly relaxed. She dared to lean forward and stare into the now empty hole. A thick piece of string lay inside, slack and tangled. There was a plastic hook attached to one end.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just a pull cord. It must have been rigged to cut off the beeping because it’s stopped now.”
Monty examined the small device in his hand. “It’s a tape recorder. Should I press play?”
“No, let’s take it back to the others. We all need to hear whatever’s on there.”
Monty nodded and turned around. Alfie saw them coming. He pulled his head out of his knees and stared at them hopefully. “The beeping’s stopped,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“We found a hidden compartment,” said Cheryl.
“With a tape recorder inside,” Monty added, holding up the device.
Leo turned away from the wall and seemed to have calmed down a little. “What are the odds it’s a message from our congenial, no-eyed host? Can’t wait.”
Cheryl went to talk to him. There was a fear in Leo’s eyes now that hadn’t been there before. “Are you alright?” she asked him. She knew it was a stupid question but didn’t know what else to say. “Can I do anything?”
His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he struggled to speak, and eventually he shook his head. “Everything’s just got a little too real, you know? It’s getting harder and harder to kid myself that we’re all going to get out of this in one piece.” He sighed and star
ed past her. “Look at us, Cher. Mag is dying, John is too, and Happy… What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this is about, but we can’t lose our sanity, because then it really is over. If there’s any chance of us getting out of here, we need to stay focused and together. I need you, Leo. I need you to stay strong for me.”
She wasn’t even sure if it was true. It’d been a long time since she’d needed anybody, and she no longer trusted Leo wholly, but out of all the people stuck down there with her, she wanted him to be okay. He was the only person she liked.
The nod he gave her was slight, and his words were a shallow whisper. “Okay, Cher-bear. I’m back. I’m here.”
She smiled and rubbed his elbow. “Nice.”
“Shall I play the tape now?” Monty asked from behind her.
“Yes,” said John, suddenly rousing from his sleep. “I want to hear it.” Maggie had pulled herself across his lap, and her cheek was now on his thigh. Every now and then she let out a pitiful moan.
“Let’s do it then.” Cheryl took Leo’s hand and pulled him into the gathering with the others. They roughly formed a semi-circle and Monty pressed play. The tape hissed with interference before a voice emerged. It was not the rasping voice they had expected.
It was not the man with no eyes.
Monty tilted his head towards the speaker and frowned. “Who is that?”
Maggie moaned. “Andrew? Andrew, are you there?”
“She’s hallucinating,” said Alfie. “Be quiet, Mag.”
John pointed a finger weakly at the recorder in Monty’s hand. “No, th-that’s Andrew. That’s Maggie’s husband speaking.”
Everyone looked at each other. The voice on the recorder sounded ordinary, and even polite; someone nervous about speaking on tape. Was it really Maggie’s husband? How was he involved in all of this?
Maggie moaned again. “Andrew? Andrew, I’m so sorry. I love you. Please, come and save me.”
Cheryl had a feeling that was the last thing Andrew would do.
Having not paid enough attention after John’s shocking revelation about Andrew being the speaker, Monty re-wound the tape and started it again.
Andrew began to speak. “M-Maggie? Are you there? Yes?” He paused and mumbled quietly as if talking to someone beside him. “This is really weird. I feel uncomfortable.”
Cheryl took one step closer to Monty, not wanting to miss a single syllable being spoken.
“Maggie, if you’re hearing this at some point then you’re probably sick. Very sick. Tomorrow, you’ll be going on a company weekend with John, but tonight while you sleep I am going to switch your anxiety pills for ones made from refined O-O-Oleander seeds. Y-Yellow Oleander to be precise. Depending on the amount of pills you take, you might die quickly or slowly. There is no reliable antidote, but if you get to a hospital you might have a chance. If you do not find medical help, your heart will seize and you will die.”
Maggie let out a moan. Her eyes were open, but it was unclear if she was hearing any of this. John had his hand on her arm and was clutching her tightly.
“Maggie, I’ve always loved you — I love you even now — but I can’t put up with your lies any longer. Do you really think I don’t know about you and John? I know, Maggie. I’ve known for a long time. That piece of shit even came to our house. He drank a beer with me while you watched. Did I really deserve that? Did the two of you laugh at me afterwards? Andrew, such a naive fool.”
Monty shook his head at John. “Somebody always gets hurt, bruh, innit? You muppet.”
“I waited for you to end it,” Andrew continued, “but you never did — so I will end it. You can both die in that room. Justice demands it.”
The tape ended.
Alfie placed a hand against his forehead and his gelled black hair fell forward in front of his face. “This is all her fault. We’re down here because Maggie’s a fucking whore!”
“Hey!” Cheryl glared at him. “Your goddamn uncle is just as much to blame.”
“More to blame,” said Leo. “John has been fucking around with women for years. It finally caught up with him.”
Alfie folded his arms and looked away.
“I’m s-sorry.” John mumbled a few more words, then his eyes rolled up in his head. He was out again.
Alfie was on his feet, pacing angrily. “So why the hell have we been dragged into this? What the fuck did we do? I never even met Maggie’s husband.”
“Maybe it’s because you all covered for them?” Cheryl suggested, trying to make sense of it herself. “Maybe Andrew thinks everyone here is to blame.”
Alfie shocked her then by giving her a nasty shove. “Shut the fuck up. What the hell do you know?”
Monty grabbed Alfie. “Calm down, bruh.”
“Sod off, you fucking thief.” Alfie swung a fist at Monty, but Monty ducked and delivered his own. It struck Alfie in the ribs and dropped the lad like a sack of spuds.
Leo leapt in front of Monty and broke things up before any more blows were exchanged. “He’s just freaking out. Give him a minute.”
Alfie sobbed on the ground and clutched his ribs. “I want to go home. I don’t want to die down here.”
Monty stared at his bloodstained hands and suddenly seemed ashamed of lashing out. He crouched next to Alfie and put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry, Alfie.”
Alfie shrugged him off. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Monty sighed, but did as he was told. He went and spoke with Cheryl. “So it was Andrew who tricked us all down here? Didn’t see that coming.”
Cheryl was almost convinced now that she would never see daylight, yet she wasn’t entirely satisfied with the reasons why. It didn’t make sense that Andrew would take revenge on all of them — surely revenge against John and Maggie would be enough. Also, how could he have built something like this in secret? Was his marriage really so bad that he could sneak off to bury a bunch of shipping containers and rig them with games?
Not games. Traps.
Cheryl went over to John. His skin had turned the colour of yellow chalk left to fade in the sun. “John,” she said, trying to rouse him. “John, wake up. What does Andrew do for a living?”
John blinked lazily, and his eyes took a while to focus on her. “Cher? What is it?”
“Maggie’s husband; do you know what he does for a job?”
“He works at a… at a post office.”
Leo gave her a nudge to get her attention. “What does it matter?”
“I’m not sure it does,” she admitted. “I just don’t think Maggie’s husband did all of this. When would he even have got the time? This has to be about more than Maggie’s marriage.”
“It sounded like he was with someone when he made the recording,” said Monty, seeming to agree with her. “Maybe he was forced to do it. He sounded nervous.”
Cheryl thought so too. Andrew hadn’t sounded like a man who enjoyed making grand speeches of vengeance. His tone had been jittery. His words had sounded rehearsed. “Maybe he’s a victim in all this as well.”
Alfie stopped clutching his ribs and held a hand out so that Leo could help him to his feet. Once standing, he brushed himself off and looked at them. “Andrew wanted Maggie dead. He switched her pills, didn’t he? If he knew about her sleeping with John, he would want revenge on everyone who knew about it. You heard him mention being laughed at. He wanted to settle the score.”
“Not like this,” said Cheryl. “This is madness.”
Alfie shrugged. “What does it even matter? We’re all dead.”
“Then what’s the point of all this?” Monty asked. “Why all of the games?”
“To make us suffer all the more.”
Cheryl still wasn’t happy with the theory. It didn’t fit. This was about more than Maggie’s marital problems. It had to be. “We’re missing something. Andrew said Maggie might have a chance if she gets to a hospital. Why go to the trouble of explaining that? Why not just sa
y there was no cure and that she was going to die down here? Why mention the possibility of getting help if there isn’t any?”
“Because there’s still a way out?” said Leo, understanding what she was thinking. “Seems like a bit of a stretch, but maybe.”
“There are more cells,” said Cheryl, “and this doesn’t feel like the end to me. We’re missing something.”
Leo stared down the tunnel. “Should we try and open another cell? Find another game?”
She nodded. “Monty, is there anything written on that recorder? A number or something? A new clue?”
Monty rotated the small device and studied it from all angles. “There’s nothing on it. Hey, wait a sec though, let me check something.” He pressed one of the buttons and the deck opened up with a clack. Inside was a tiny cassette, not like the clunky ones her dad had used to store in boxes in the loft and insist would be valuable one day. Monty gave it a quick examination and then slid it back inside the recorder. He grinned at them as he pressed the play button. “B-side, innit?”
For a few seconds there was nothing but a crackling silence. Then a voice they all recognised started to talk. It was the man without eyes. “God judges the adulterer, and all of you have indulged in the sin of infidelity, deepening the wounds of its innocent victim. Margaret, Johnathan, today is your reckoning, along with all those who have abetted you.”
Alfie threw his head back and swore. “Why are we to blame for them two fucking around? This is bullshit, man.”
The recording continued despite his protests. “Murder, theft, adultery; transgression already unveiled. Yet another sin festers, a boil waiting to be lanced. Confess and live. Atone or die. Ask for forgiveness and make good your sins.”
They waited several minutes, but no more words were spoken. The recording ended.
“Make good your sins,” said Leo. “You think that’s the next clue?”
“It’s the only thing that sounded like one,” said Cheryl. “Check the cells.”
Gripping Thrillers Page 64
