Stone Game

by J. D. Weston

  "You don't get it, do you?" spat Melody. "You don't understand that I have to choose two people to kill. I have to take their lives." Her voice broke. "Two of you get to die quickly." She paused. "And one of you will die a slow and painful death." She stared at the tub and the grass beyond, which was blurred by heat. "You're making it harder for me not to let that one person be you."

  "I'm making it harder for you?" said the man. "Am I supposed to-"

  "Shut up," shouted George. "Just shut the hell up." He fought to crane his neck, but couldn't turn his head far enough to see his boss. "It was you who wanted to come here, it was you that wanted the glory, and it was you who said not to call for backup. So just shut the hell up. We're in this together. If anyone needs to boil, it's you."

  "Reg?" said Melody. "What do you think?"

  Reg kept his head down low. It took a few moments for him to respond, and when he did, he could manage only one mumbled sentence.

  "I don't want to die, Melody."

  "How are you going to do it?" asked the man on the left. His voice had dropped to a monotone tenor. The fight inside him seemed to have vanished.

  Melody noted the change in his attitude and dismissed the man's temper as nerves, fear and the unknown. She'd taken various courses when she worked on the force. Hostage situations and post-terrorist attacks were prone to elicit various forms of emotions from people. Dealing with them required a certain amount of emotional intelligence. What they hadn't taught her was that when her own life was in danger, she'd have to deal with her own fears, thoughts and demons too, as well as those of others.

  "My bare hands, I guess," she replied.

  George broke the silence that followed.

  "You think you can do that?" he asked.

  Melody set the note on the ground.

  "It wouldn't be the first time," she said, quietly. "And he knows it. He's testing me."

  "Testing you?" said George. "Don't you think it's a test for all of us? I mean, after all, we're all chained up here. Maybe he's watching us, analysing us."

  Melody shook her head. "No," she said, and pushed herself up to her feet. "He's testing me. He's pushing me."

  "You two are close?" asked the man on the left. "You know his name."

  "Yeah, we're close. We were close, once upon a time."

  "So get through to him. Talk to him." He was almost pleading. "Can't you do something?"

  The chain around Melody's neck suddenly moved. It was being pulled up.

  "I'm running out of time."

  "So kill me," said the man. He stopped as soon as he'd said it, and realised the gravity of his words.

  "It's not as easy as that."

  The chain crept another link over the thick bough.

  "What did it say?" asked Reg. "The note. Read it to us."

  Melody fumbled with the paper. Her hands shook, and she could barely make out the words with just the light from the coals.

  "It's just what I said," said Melody. "Kill two and one will boil. Then below, it says, or I'll be the first to go."

  "Holy crap," said Reg. He was beginning to panic. "Melody, I trust you. Do what you need to do." He gave her a long hard look. "I don't think any of us are getting out of here."

  "But how do I decide?" asked Melody. "Who am I to say who deserves to die slowly?"

  Another link crept over the bough.

  Melody held it tightly in her hand and stepped back to gauge the length of her leash.

  "I think it reaches all of you, but the longer I wait, the harder it'll be."

  Another link.

  Melody glanced at the bathtub.

  "I choose me," she said. "I can't decide."

  "Melody, no," said Reg. "We don't even know how he's going to kill you, or what he's going to do with us when he's done."

  "He's right," said the man on the left. "If you can't decide, and he puts you in the water, we might all face the same fate. Who knows?"

  "Melody," said Reg, "surely it's better to finish two of us on our terms? Not his."

  "How about drawing straws?" said George. "We each pick some grass, and the shortest one-"

  "Dies horribly?" finished Melody. "No way. That's not on our own terms."

  Another link.

  "Oh my God. I can't do this."

  "Just get on with it, you fucking bitch," shouted the man on the left.

  Melody was taken back by the attack and began to respond, but he continued with his insult.

  "You know you want to save your friend, so there's one of the two. Now all you need to do is choose between George and me. Well, I'm making it easy for you. Give George the easy way out. I'll do it. I'll be the one. I'll take the short straw. I deserve it, he doesn't. This was my idea. I talked him into it. So just get on with it and stop pitying yourself."

  He turned away from her, panting slightly from the emotional outburst, to let his own words sink in.

  "I'll be the one," he repeated quietly. "I won't hear another word on it."

  21

  Fire

  Harris let his head drop.

  He wished there was some way he could end it all himself. Maybe he could strangle himself with the chain? But he could barely move, and as much as the chain dug into his throat and caused him to gag, that would be the extent of it.

  He began to twist and wrench his body away out of frustration. No control. Why should someone else be the one who dictates how he dies?

  And the girl? The bitch was making it sound like she had a choice, making it sound like it was some kind of hardship for her. What would happen if she did kill two of them and save one for the tub?

  She was in on it.

  The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. She was sat on the ground with the note looking sorry for herself. How did they even know what was written on the paper? She could have said anything.

  Another link rolled over the bough, and her leash grew smaller still. Pretty soon, she wouldn't be able to reach them, and who knew what that meant.

  "Just hurry the fuck up, will you?" he shouted. "You're making it harder for all of us. If we're going to die, then just bloody do it."

  He wished he could see her face, but a part of him was grateful for not being able to see George. He doubted he'd be able to look him in the eye. He couldn't bear the look of hate, of blame.

  It's all your fault.

  "You want to be the one?" she asked. "Are you sure about that?"

  Her voice was authoritative. She was a leader. Her tone was flat, but she was in control, and she knew it.

  Another link.

  Then a thud.

  "What was that?" he asked her. "What just happened?"

  "I know how I'm supposed to do it," the girl replied.

  "Well, are you going to tell us?"

  Instead of replying, she stood. He heard the chains rattling and her shuffling feet, bound at the ankles.

  She approached him and stopped directly in front of him.

  The chain was nearly at its full length.

  Harris admired her. She was strong, very pretty, and with her shirt torn open, he could see how fit she was.

  She held up a knife.

  "You wanted to see?" she said. "This is how it ends."

  A knife. There it was. She could end it all right now.

  "Come closer," he whispered. His eyes darted back to the others and then returned to hers.

  She stepped forward and leaned in so he could whisper in her ear.

  "You're a pretty one," he said, his eyes fixed on her chest. In the dark, the white of her bra seemed to glow. "How about you give me one last request and show me what you have in there?"

  The girl's face tightened. She stepped back half a step.

  "Or maybe even a kiss," he said.

  A look of disgust.

  "Or maybe more. Come on, it'll be our last time. You have such pretty lips."

  Her arm swung up and over her shoulder.

  Harris instinctively flinched, shut his eyes, and w
aited for the pain. Nothing but the thud of the blade digging into the tree.

  "There's nothing more I'd like," she whispered, "than to sink this blade into your head."

  Another link reminded them of time.

  "So do it," he snapped. "Just bloody end it."

  "An easy death for you means a harder death for someone else, and right now, if anyone deserves a slow and painful death, it's you."

  She began to step backwards, holding the chain away from her feet with one hand and the knife in the other. That was it. That had been his chance, his only chance at antagonising her into ending it all for him.

  Now he would surely boil.

  The chain seemed to be shortening faster as if Harvey was growing more impatient as time went by.

  Melody needed to make a choice.

  For the briefest of moments, the thought of suicide crossed her mind. But she knew that all men would suffer for her cowardice. She couldn’t let Reg suffer. She somehow felt responsible for him, for this.

  He'd be at home with Jess if it weren't for her.

  Melody doubted he would ever see Jess again. But if he was going to die, he was right, they should all die on their own terms.

  She also considered running from man to man, a quick slice of the jugular, exactly how Harvey had shown her, and they would die quickly.

  But Melody knew that he'd tighten the chain before she reached the last man. He deserved to boil anyway. She knew he was playing her, trying to provoke her into using the knife. But she owed it to Reg and George. She owed them a clean, quick death.

  But who to do first?

  She stopped between Reg and George, glanced up at them, but turned away.

  Could she really do this?

  "Me," said Reg. "Start with me."

  It was as if he'd read her mind, as she battled to make the first move.

  George's face began to screw up and he sobbed loudly. Shame, pride and dignity had long since vanished. All that remained was a condemned man. He'd been reduced to a snivelling wreck.

  Melody pulled her chain and took the few steps toward Reg, whose face was downcast with his eyes closed as if waiting for her to just do what had to be done.

  Another link.

  Reg was at arm's length now. She could reach his neck. But she wished she could hug him, tell him she'd see him on the other side, thank him for being a friend, and for all the times they'd had together.

  She thought of his smiling face. He'd always been happy, always been the one to make jokes, no matter how inappropriate.

  He opened his eyes, looked up at her and nodded.

  Another link.

  She was running out of time.

  "Do it," he croaked.

  She wanted to reach out and smooth his hair, touch his face, anything. Just feel. Just let him know how she felt. To ease him.

  To ease her.

  Another link.

  She reached out with the knife and set it on his neck. All she needed to do was push and slice. The knife handle was slippery in her sweaty hands and they trembled in the night.

  "Do it, Melody," he said with urgency.

  Another link.

  The point of the blade pressed into his skin, and he lifted his head. He was ready.

  "I love you, Reg."

  Tears rolled freely from his eyes and he began to pant.

  "Just get out of here, Melody," he said. "Do it, save yourself, and get out of here."

  "I don't think that's-"

  "Just let me have that thought, Melody," he said softly between sharp, heavy breaths. "Just let me think you're going to be okay."

  Melody closed her eyes. She felt his neck through the knife. She could see it in her mind's eye.

  She pushed harder.

  Another link rolled over the bough.

  She pushed harder, but her trembling hand fought to hold the knife.

  "Do it, Melody," shouted Reg.

  She pushed. But she couldn't grip the handle, as if her subconscious was holding her back.

  "Melody, do it," said Reg. "Just push."

  "I can't," she said, her voice high and broken.

  Another link.

  "Now, Melody."

  "I can't."

  "Reg gritted his teeth and forced his neck forward as far as the chains would allow, but the knife slipped through Melody's hand.

  It fell to the ground.

  He stared at her in disbelief. His jaw hung open as if realising for the first time that it would be his friend who suffered the most. It would be her that they would all watch die horrifically.

  Another link rolled over the bough, then another, and another. Faster and faster, the slack chain began to tighten, and then pull on her neck. Melody stumbled backwards, fell to the ground, and gasped for air.

  The chain grew tighter still. It began to choke her and pull her towards the fire and the evil bathtub.

  Melody fought back, trying to grip the ground with her feet. But the chain was relentless. It seemed to drag her with ease. She felt the heat on her head and tried to roll away. But each time she tried, the chain pulled tighter until eventually, and at the base of its arc, it began to lift her into the air.

  The pulling was smooth at first, but as more weight hung from the biting links of steel, the pulling turned to harsh jerks.

  Her head was soon above the red-hot coals. The skin on her neck prickled and began to burn. She felt it tighten and smelled her hair as it began to give in to the heat.

  Melody was choking. She allowed her body to fall limp but clung desperately to the chain that was cutting into her throat. Air was barely getting through, but she sucked as hard as she could.

  She dizzied.

  Another pull of the chain and Melody lifted higher, so high she could see into the bathtub now, and the darkness beyond.

  The chain grew tighter still. She rose higher.

  Brightly coloured dots began to dance across her vision in long kaleidoscopic swirls as if her very soul was preparing to leave.

  The long grass ahead appeared inviting somehow, soft, lush, and natural. But there was more. There was movement amongst the grass. Slowly but surely, a shadow grew larger.

  The chain pulled tighter.

  Shouting, distant and muffled.

  A wave of black passed before her eyes.

  Voices.

  No air now.

  Footsteps nearby.

  It was close. She felt the warmth of death's embrace.

  A man.

  Darkness.

  22

  The End of an Era

  Harvey scooped Melody up in his arms and took the weight off the chain. He stood on the hot coals, holding her above the copper bathtub.

  "I'm here," he shouted. "I'm here."

  He stared into the darkness of the trees, past the open-mouthed men who stood wide-eyed. His vision scanned the shadows for movement.

  "It's me you want. Let her down," he called out. "Come and get me."

  Harvey loosened the chain from Melody's throat with one hand while supporting her head.

  "Let her down," he screamed again.

  Suddenly, the chain began to loosen. Harvey stepped away from the hot coals that had begun to melt the soles of his boots and lowered Melody down to the ground.

  She lay unconscious, and thin rasps of breath were the only indication she was alive, but barely.

  Harvey found the padlock behind Melody's neck.

  "Keys."

  He left no room for debate.

  "If you want me, throw me the keys, or you get no-one at all."

  A gunshot rang out, and Harvey felt a punch to his shoulder, sharp and hot. He stumbled back to the ground, but scrambled back to Melody, clutching his wounded shoulder.

  "Keys."

  A pair of keys on a ring landed in the grass beside him.

  Harvey fumbled with the padlock, desperate to release the chain from Melody's neck. The keys slipped in his hands, but then the lock snapped open with a click. He frantically pu
lled it away, tossed it behind him into the fire, then loosened the chain and freed her throat.

  Melody was unconscious still, but a faint pulse gave a small glimmer of hope.

  Another gunshot, another punch, another run of hot, sticky blood. This time, it was his other shoulder.

  Harvey sat back away from Melody and slowly stood like a condemned man with his arms outstretched as much as his new wounds would allow.

  "You have me," he called out. "Now show your face and finish me like a real man."

  Harvey glanced across at Reg, who seemed to smile at his presence. Harvey gave him a little nod.

  "Come on," he shouted, working himself up, preparing himself for death. "I'm ready. Come and get me."

  He stood tall, panting from pain, adrenaline and anger. A rage he'd fought so hard to control over the years, a force so powerful it had taken years of training to suppress, now coursed through him. It was as if, in death, it would be the rage that eventually took him down.

  "Come on," he shouted again. "Where are you?"

  "Put the chain around your neck," said the voice from the trees.

  Harvey placed the voice directly in front of him. A London accent, almost familiar, but not quite.

  "You can't get me without chains?" shouted Harvey. "After all you've done? You need chains to take me down?"

  "I don't need chains, Stone," said the man. "I want the chains."

  A cruel laugh rang out, cold and bitter. "I want to see you suffer, Stone. That's all I want. I want to see you suffer, and then I want to watch you die slowly." He paused and dropped the tone of his voice. "I want to put an end to Harvey Stone, once and for all."

  "So show yourself," said Harvey. "Let's get this moving."

  Melody began to cough and rolled onto her side.

  "The chain, Stone," said the voice.

  Harvey pulled the chain towards him and wrapped the slack end around his neck.

  "There," he called, "it's done. Now show yourself."

  The chain was suddenly pulled hard and fast, and snapped tight against Harvey's neck. He gasped for breath. He'd left room to breathe, but the chain had tightened and now closed off much of his airway. He gripped the links that dug into his throat, fighting for air.