Panic Button - A Psychological Thriller

by Frazer Lee

  “Hello, I’m Gwen.” The blonde reached Jo first, leaving Dave momentarily stranded. She kissed Jo on each cheek, her lips glossy with pink lipstick. She smelled of something earthy, which Jo couldn’t quite place for a moment - sandalwood. The scent was in keeping with Gwen’s bohemian, ‘hippy chick’ wardrobe. She looked a good few years younger than Dave and dressed accordingly. She had a long silken scarf wrapped around her neck and her wrists jangled with dozens of bangles and charm bracelets.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jo said.

  “And you,” Dave echoed.

  Dave had a winning smile and friendly, twinkling eyes. He still had his hand outstretched, and Jo reached out to shake it. He had one hell of a grip, squashing her fingers as he lunged in for an air kiss. His aftershave smelled musky and expensive.

  “Can I have that back now?”

  Dave looked confused.

  “My hand?”

  “Oh!” He chuckled, apologising profusely as he let go of her hand. Dave was genuinely pleased that Jo was along for the ride. She seemed like his kind of person, down-to-earth, unpretentious. He’d been doing his best to have a laugh with Gwen but was struggling a little with her hippy chick demeanour. Max seemed a bit on the quiet side to him, definitely not the sporting type. Jo looked like she could pull a pint or two, Dave thought, unconsciously eyeing the table filled with champagne and glasses.

  Max’s eyes met his, gleaming. Perhaps he was a good sport after all.

  “Thirst things first then, eh?” Max grabbed a bottle of champagne, breaking the quiet. He started unravelling the foil and wire wrapped around the cork.

  Jo’s eyes widened as she noticed the name on the champagne label: Cristal.

  “Blimey, this is all a bit too good to be true, isn’t it?”

  Max smiled, working on the cork. “It is a good vintage...”

  “Yeah, I mean, New York, the prize draw... I’ve never won anything before in my life. My Mum always says if something sounds too good to be true...”

  “Then it probably is,” Gwen cut in. “I was the same, I thought it was a load of old rubbish when I got the email, but then I got the letter, and the phone call... my Dad checked out the booking with the jet company and everything, it’s all legit.” She blushed a little at the mention of her father, realising how childish she must sound to the others.

  In truth, Gwen felt blessed to even be there. It had been such a battle to convince her Pastor father that she would be okay flying on her own - he often forgot she was in her twenties now. Telling him that her sister Emily had travelled alone, even hitchhiked, so many times hadn’t helped. Her father disapproved of Em, “gallivanting around the planet like she owns the place,” as he’d put it. But then her tactic had worked out in her favour; as she’d reminded her dad that she, unlike dear Emily, was teetotal, and would only be going along to see the sights - maybe take in a few museums. Her Dad had given her his blessing after that. Gwen wasn’t teetotal of course, God forbid - but what he didn’t know about her wouldn’t give him any cause to worry while she was away.

  Pop! Champagne bubbles gushed from the neck of the bottle and Max quickly poured them each a glass.

  “Time to sample some of this VIP treatment I reckon,” Max said. “Try, before you fly.”

  He handed Gwen a glass then offered another to Jo.

  “No... I...” Jo hesitated.

  “Come on, you only live once.”

  “Go on girl!” Dave said.

  All eyes were on Jo. She conceded and politely accepted the glass, took a sip. The bubbles danced on her tongue, the cool, crisp taste of the champagne kissing her throat. Lovely, she thought.

  Max watched her savouring the drink and glancing around smiling, as he sipped his own. He liked the way she carried herself, already warming to the way she seemed to want to get as much as she could out of life. She had a bright face and a lovely smile, just like her profile picture. But meeting her in person revealed something her online persona didn’t. He’d noticed it in her eyes while they were in the elevator. It was as though her eyes had seen too much somehow. Perhaps that was why she looked so eager to enjoy herself.

  Dave took centre stage, proposing a toast to their good fortune. They all clinked glasses and then sat down on the pristine leather sofas, Jo next to Dave.

  “Probably don’t get out much do you? With a kid and all that?” he ventured. It was quite the conversation opener.

  Jo almost spat out her mouthful, throwing a sideways glance at him.

  “It’s on your profile.” He looked at the others conspiratorially. “We’ve all been there, right? Checked each other out?”

  The tension was back in the room just as quickly as the champagne had broken it. Gwen looked away, or rather, didn’t know where to look. Max just shrugged in agreement. Jo’s eyes were admittal enough - she’d had a look at the others’ profiles too.

  Dave nodded sagely, eyes twinkling with triumph at Jo.

  “Better go easy - just the one, eh? We know how mental you can get on the sauce. I’ve seen the photos of your mate Jules’ wedding. What a mess!”

  “Sorry, that was about three years ago actually...”

  Jo let the glass fall from her lip. Her drink tasted a little bitter to her now. Clutching the glass in her lap, her faced blushed with embarrassment.

  Gwen giggled, either unaware of Jo’s consternation, or simply not caring about it.

  “Naughty girl! N-A-U-G-H-T-Y!” Dave was like a dog with a new bone.

  Max shot Dave a reproachful look. “Steady on mate.”

  “I’m only messing around,” Dave snorted. He looked at Jo again, over the soundtrack of Gwen’s barely-suppressed laughter. “You’re not offended are you babe?”

  “I can tell you’re going to be a handful,” Jo said, trying to regain her composure.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him,” Gwen said, still laughing, “He’s getting married next month.”

  Dave raised an eyebrow. He looked uneasy in the glare of this particular spotlight.

  “Oh? Who’s the lucky girl?” Jo’s voice was loaded with mock-sarcasm.

  “Her name’s Sarah.”

  “Good for you. I can tell you’re prime husband material.”

  Max chuckled at Jo’s comeback.

  She laughed along with him. “No really, I mean that.”

  Dave shrugged off the joke, swigging champagne.

  Gwen fixed Max with an enquiring gaze. “What about you then, Mr. Dark Horse?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You don’t give anything away on your profile, not even a picture.”

  “What can I say? I like to keep myself to myself.”

  “Was expecting a real paedo to show up,” Dave cackled.

  “He looks fine to me.” Gwen blushed as soon as the words escaped her lips.

  “Damn! It’s always the quiet ones!” Dave said.

  Max grinned, flattered, but avoiding eye contact. Thankfully, Gwen’s quip may have gotten him off the hook. Max was more of a backseat kind of guy, an observer. If there was one thing he hated, it was talking about himself. He would much rather one of the others were in the limelight - and Dave was proving himself a more than able candidate.

  “Here...” Dave grabbed the champagne bottle and topped up Gwen’s drink, winking at her. “This one’s on the house - promise I won’t tell your old man. You must’ve seen him on her profile,” he said to the others, “He’s only a bloody vicar!”

  Gwen downed the drink, defiant. Dave draped his arm over her shoulder and poured another, a look of pure glee plastered across his face.

  “Promise I won’t tell him about this one either!”

  Dave and Gwen laughed raucously.

  Jo exchanged a look of wry amusement with Max as they both sipped their drinks politely. That Max was a bit mysterious was a given, and as far as Jo was concerned it added to his allure. What you saw was what you got with Dave; he was a good-time guy out for a bit of fun. She couldn’t quite fig
ure Gwen out though. The girl clearly had a good head on her shoulders, so why the giggling ‘little girl lost’ act with the boys? Maybe she was one of those girls who liked to wind the men up then step back and watch the fire fly. Jo had met more than a few of those in her time. Or perhaps Jo was just feeling jealous about the way Max had blushed at Gwen’s comment. She felt sure theirs was going to be an interesting flight.

  A sudden fanfare ripped through the wall-mounted speakers, making them all jump. The music was so loud that it distorted slightly, before decreasing in volume as the all2gethr.com logo on the flat panel monitor changed colour and spread across the full width of the screen.

  Gwen put down her glass, clapping her hands together. “Here we go!”

  The Alligator unravelled its pixelated body from the globe and peered out at them from the screen. Animated jaw chattering, it addressed them in a tinny voice.

  “Welcome! And congratulations to you all for winning the all expenses paid trip to New York courtesy of all2gethr.com, everyone’s favourite social networking site.”

  A tiny digital delay between the Alligator’s voice and his snapping jaw created an unsettling resonance. The winners smiled at each other, bemused by this rather unorthodox welcome.

  “Too bizarre,” Jo said.

  “If you’d like to take a look out of the window to your left...” the Alligator continued.

  “Cool - a stretch!” Gwen was at the window first.

  She and the others looked down at the sleek stretch limo below. A smart-suited female chauffeur stood waiting for them, looking a little impatient.

  The Alligator’s voice grew ever chirpier. “Your chariot awaits, ready to take you to your private jet. We also have some exclusive in-flight entertainment prepared for you...”

  “Mile high club?” Dave whispered to Jo, his breath heady with champagne fumes. Jo ignored his cheeky comment.

  “...but in order to take part, I must ask you to relinquish your mobile phones for the duration of the flight.”

  “Our phones?” Jo looked at the Alligator, his slit-eyes twinkling. Like he can even see me, she thought.

  “It is mandatory I’m afraid as they may interfere with our equipment, and may affect the outcome of the game. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated in this matter.”

  The winners looked at each other with a mixture of excitement - and apprehension. Max, in particular, looked concerned and absent-mindedly took his handset from his pocket, thumbing the keypad to check for messages. He looked up and saw Jo looking at him. They both smiled as they noticed both Gwen and Dave were similarly addicted - staring into their little mobile phone screens.

  Dave smiled down at the picture text Sarah had sent to him that morning. It was a saucy photo of her wearing black lacy lingerie, blowing a kiss at the camera along with the text ‘SO U DON’T 4GET ME TIGER, MISS U ALREADY! XXX’. Sweet. Whenever his phone vibrated at the car spares shop where Dave worked, his colleague Paul was forever trying to catch a glimpse of Sarah’s photo messages. Dave enjoyed the kudos of course, and likes teasing Paul even more. When the lad had asked him how Dave had landed such a hot chick, he’d delighted in answering, “Charm, mate. Natural charm.” Well, Sarah certainly didn’t love him for his money - not on his wages. At least now he was getting a pre-stag party in New York on the house. Result. And some people claimed social networking was a bad thing - muppets.

  As they each got up and headed to the door, Jo took her phone from her pocket and checked it too. Still no messages, but about a dozen more friends had commented on her All2gethr status, expressing their envy. Jo had to admit that it made her feel good.

  Outside, Max and Dave helped the stern-faced driver load everyone’s luggage into the boot of the limo.

  “Thanks,” Jo said, more to Max than Dave.

  Before closing the boot, the driver pulled out a small leather pouch and unzipped it.

  “Gentlemen, your phones please.”

  Dave took his phone from his trouser pocket, turned it off and dropped it into the pouch. He was a picture of nonchalance. Jo looked on as Max hesitated for a moment, wiping a smear of finger grease from his phone display before doing the same. The gesture was tender, almost loving - he was clearly fond of technology.

  “Thank you. Ladies?” The driver shook the open pouch at Jo and Gwen, who were seated inside the limo. Gwen reached across Jo’s lap and deposited her girly-looking phone inside the pouch. The driver, openly wrinkling her nose at the glitzy handset, held the pouch out to Jo.

  “No, sorry I can’t,” Jo said, “I promised my daughter I’ll keep in touch this weekend.”

  The driver paused a moment, then cleared her throat. “It is a mandatory stipulation. Phones may interfere with the game.”

  “Then I’ll turn it off.”

  “Ah, come on...” Dave said, climbing aboard the stretch limo.

  “The rules of the competition state that all phones are to be relinquished for the duration of the flight,” the driver continued, “Otherwise the competition is null and void - for all participants.”

  “It’s just for a few hours,” Max said.

  Jo’s fingers tightened their grip on the handset, a physical manifestation of maternal instinct. Our lifeline.

  The driver smiled at her. “It is only a few hours. I can’t change the rules, I wish I could...”

  Jo glanced at the limo, Dave and Gwen’s impatient eyes peering back at her. Max gave her a reassuring nod as if to say if I can do it, so can you.

  “Okay, okay. Just give me a second.”

  Palms sweating, Jo speed-typed a text message. NO PHONES ALLOWED ON PLANE PUMPKIN. CALL U WHEN I GET 2 NY. LUV U MUM XXX

  The driver continued smiling, though her eyes were pencil hard. “Feels like losing a limb, doesn’t it?”

  Jo wondered if the driver was enjoying her power trip perhaps a little too much. She nodded solemnly and hit SEND, before turning her phone off and dropping it into the pouch.

  Max hopped into the limo after her and the driver closed the door behind them, still clutching the pouch. Moments later, the engine purred and they were off and away from the terminal building.

  The interior of the limo was like an Aladdin’s Cave of riches. The seats were upholstered in the finest leather with chrome door fittings and sparkling tinted glass windows. On the right hand side of the limo, running the full length from the driver’s partition to the rear seats, a bar was stocked with decanters, glasses and yet more champagne on ice. Beneath the glass surfaces of the bar, the rainbow colours of ultraviolet mood lighting undulated and bathed the limo interior in a psychedelic party glow.

  Max was busy examining a pedestal situated between the bar and the seats, which was topped with a little control panel of shiny chrome buttons. He fiddled with the buttons and, with a click and a whirr, an LCD flat screen television popped up out of the pedestal.

  “Whoa,” Max said, awestruck.

  The screen flickered into life automatically; displaying the same All2gethr logo the passengers had seen at the winners’ lounge. The animated alligator graphic sprang into life, uncurling itself from the globe and popping the cork on a cartoon bottle of champagne. Computer generated bubbles filled the screen, arranging themselves into a single word: ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’