Killer Game

by Kirsty McKay

  Whatever, I’m not going to hang around. I turn, and stride out of the cave towards the half-light. And then when I hit the beach I start to run, and it’s only when I have sprinted three quarters of the way up the cliff path and have to stop to catch my breath, that I turn around and look at where I have come from.

  There’s a shadowy figure on the beach below, looking up at me. I watch, trying to make out the face, but it’s an amorphous blob. And it doesn’t move. Stupid, it’s a rock.

  I gulp in air, then take off on my burning legs again, and don’t slow down until I see the yellow lights of the school buildings, pooling out into the darkness.

  Later, at tea, Vaughan is at a table, laughing and engrossed in conversation with Alex, Carl and Marcia. Rick sits elsewhere with non-Guild.

  I must have imagined it, I think as I see his beaming face. He’s loving this. He’s right there, in the thick of things with the most popular kids. Exactly what he wanted. It can’t have been him crying in the cave.

  So who was it?

  CHAPTER 11

  Early – very early – Sunday morning: unconscious, but still in the land of the living.

  Asleep, I know the hand is going to be placed on my arm before I feel it. Somehow, in dreamland, I sense him in the room with me. My body is dead to the world, but my head is flicking through lost images of us as kids – nettle stings, a burnt hand from a sparkler on bonfire night, a trip to the beach and a dead crab. And then suddenly, there’s the hand on my arm, and I’m awake and in my dorm bed, and the clock is reading 1.23 a.m.

  Vaughan gets into bed with me. Without asking, as if it’s the most natural and innocent thing in the world. I shift over in the single bed, like this happens every night. The bed is small, and I feel the cold of the wall on my back as I press against it, away from him. His body radiates a ferocious heat, as if he has run all the way here. My arms are in front of me, awkwardly, as if I’m protecting myself from him getting any closer. Our legs touch, briefly, before I draw mine back. He is fully clothed, jeans, jumper. Thank God.

  ‘You found a way in, then,’ I whisper to him. I expect a smile, but I think his face is serious. His head is on the pillow beside mine, but I can’t see his eyes properly, just the general contours of his face and the outline of hair against the dimness of the room behind.

  He nods.

  How different from when Alex was here, on this bed with me. That felt thrilling, dangerous, but this . . . this is better. Vaughan feels like an equal. Vaughan feels like home.

  ‘It’s tonight, isn’t it?’ he whispers. ‘My initiation.’

  ‘Oh. I don’t know,’ I croak. ‘No one’s said anything.’

  He shakes his head, slightly. ‘They wouldn’t. Not to you. But it must be tonight, no reason to wait any longer.’ He lifts himself up slightly, whether to look at the clock or the door, I’m not sure. I realize the room is quieter than it should be. I sit up a little too, and look across the room at the other bed.

  ‘No Marcia,’ Vaughan says. ‘That’s a sure sign. I should . . . go back and wait, I suppose.’ But he doesn’t. We both relax down into the bed again, side by side. My eyes have adjusted now, and I can make out the worry on his face. I’m sure I can feel his heart beating through the mattress. Suddenly the years strip away, and it’s like we’re eight again. He’s scared.

  ‘I thought you wanted this?’ I whisper. It sounds weird and awkward to me, like I’m talking about us being here, together, in my bed.

  ‘I do!’ His eyes close, and he lets himself breathe. ‘But, you know. I’m no masochist. I just want it over.’

  I want to hug him, hold him close and tell him that it will be all right, but I can’t because, obviously, we’re not eight, and we’re in bed. And also, because it might not be all right. I have no idea what Alex and the Elders have planned for him, but I do know that they will not make it easy.

  His eyes open again. We wait, for one of us to speak, for me to reassure him.

  ‘I should go,’ he says, finally. We listen to each other breathe, although I think I’m probably holding my breath. His eyes bore into mine, and I’m almost overtaken by the urge to put my mouth on his and kiss away his worries. It’s terrifying.

  I open my mouth to say something – anything – to break this moment, and suddenly he’s moving again, and out of the bed as quickly and silently as he got in, and he’s leaving the room, and leaving a huge empty space in my tiny bed. I exhale. I wish I could have said more, anything to help. Or just something to make him stay in bed with me, because it was nice. It strikes me that they’ll come for me before they come for him; I hope he doesn’t meet them on their way. Not long now.

  I shift on to my back, one hand moving on to the warm place where he was lying. I like the warmth.

  *

  ‘Get up. It’s time.’

  Marcia’s standing over me, with a torch. I can only have closed my eyes for a few minutes. I hope she didn’t see Vaughan leaving. I should stall the Guild to give Vaughan time to get back to his dorm, but then my gaze moves to the clock and it is beaming out 3.02 a.m. I must have fallen asleep.

  ‘Now, Cate!’

  I dress quickly. ‘What are you going to do to him?’

  Marcia doesn’t answer me. I shiver, reaching up to the door hook for a coat and scarf. She pushes past me, opening the door, flicking the torch off and looking both ways before padding down the corridor without a backward glance. She’s wearing her Elder cloak and it billows out behind her as she moves. I follow, like she knows I will. She barely pauses, all the way down the stairs, pulling her hood up and out into the night air, across the open towards the woods. There’s a half-moon, enough light to see where we’re stepping. I catch her, because I’m faster, and because my adrenaline is pumping.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I hiss.

  ‘We need to hurry.’ She switches the torch back on and takes the left path, towards the studios. We’re heading to the cliff path – going to the cave? We clear the trees, the gorse our only cover now, following the path towards the sea. A startled seabird flies somewhere above and ahead, announcing our presence with alarm calls, leading us down to the beach. But then at the point where we should start our descent, Marcia continues left, along the clifftop. I slow down. The promontory. The clifftop.

  ‘Come on!’ Marcia urges. ‘They will have started already!’

  I stop in my tracks. Because all at once I know what they’re going to do to him, and why Marcia is bringing me late to the party.

  ‘Marcia, he can’t swim.’

  She stops too, looks back at me. ‘Sure he can. At the second Killing . . . everyone said he jumped into the pool.’

  I shake my head. ‘In the shallow end. He can’t swim. He can’t swim!’ I grab the torch from her and set off, hurtling along the sandy path as fast as I dare, heading for the promontory. I can’t see them yet, as there’s a slight incline before the path dips down towards the part of the cliff that juts out into the sea, but I know where they are, exactly where they are.

  A few years ago, there was an unusually hot summer, and a bunch of kids thought it would be fun to do some tombstoning. There’s a place on the cliff promontory where you can climb down a metre or so and find a natural launch pad off into the sea below. It’s maybe a ten-metre drop, and below is a reassuring patch of lighter blue that indicates no rocks. A natural diving pool, you might say. Well, if you were totally off your rocker you might say that. But jumpers have to be careful, because there’s only one spot that’s safe to hit; too far left or right and you’re fish food on the rocks below. I was just a new girl, too young to be included, but I saw them do it, because it happened more than once that summer, and everyone got wind of it. And then of course, the staff heard, and it stopped happening. It was a phase, and not one that held much attraction when the sea temperature dropped several degrees back to deathly cold, and the penalty for jumping was expulsion.

  And now, this is Vaughan’s initiation. Alex is going to make h
im jump.

  I reach the brow of the hill, and before I know it I’m on them. Dots of light moving around the ground, a couple of lanterns. The apprentices are huddled, watching, and the Elders and Journeymen stand around at the cliff edge, their cloaks blowing slightly in the breeze.

  I can’t see him.

  ‘Vaughan?’ I mutter. ‘Vaughan!’ This time it comes out as a shout. The Elders turn to look at me, and as they part, I see him there, in the middle of them. His bare skin stands out against the black of the cloaks, the black of the night and the sea stretching out behind him. He is stark naked. Standing, hands tied in front of him, feet tied also. I scan the hooded figures, looking for Alex, but all is a blur. I find my breath, and my voice again. ‘Are you going to make him jump?’

  Nobody answers me, and it’s all the answer I need. Then I hear Rick’s laugh.

  ‘No!’ I yell.

  ‘Cate,’ Marcia is at my side. ‘It’ll be OK.’

  ‘No it won’t!’ I say, striding up to the group. Rick steps forward and puts a meaty hand out to stop me; I strike it away with a strength that rarely presents itself. He yells at me, pumped up and ready to grab, but Alex pulls him back and walks towards me.

  ‘Don’t interfere, Cate,’ he warns me. ‘There has to be an initiation.’

  ‘But not one that will kill him!’ I yell back.

  Alex guffaws. ‘Don’t be overdramatic, Cate.’

  Marcia is behind me again, her hands are on the top of my arms, squeezing them, reassuringly. ‘Let it happen,’ she breathes in my ear. ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘He won’t be fine!’ I shout at them all. ‘He can’t swim!’

  Alex frowns.

  ‘Yeah, right. We saw him jump in the pool.’ Rick again.

  ‘He wasn’t out of his depth,’ I say. ‘You make him jump, he’ll drown.’

  ‘Alex,’ Marcia says, under her breath. ‘If it really is true he can’t swim, we shouldn’t make him jump.’

  Alex sighs, and bites his cheek. This is not going according to plan, clearly.

  ‘Come on, man!’ Rick says to Alex. ‘We’ll untie him.’ A knife blade flashes from his pocket, and Rick bends to cut Vaughan’s feet free. ‘He can doggy paddle back to shore!’

  ‘It’s not that far, and look, it’s as flat as a millpond.’ Carl assumes the voice of calm. ‘Cut his hands too. He gets in trouble, we pull him out.’

  ‘Oh, ’course you will!’ I cry. ‘Are you completely thick? He can’t swim a stroke, and he’ll drown!’

  Vaughan just stands there, not meeting my eyes, staring at the ground. Rick cuts his hands free, reluctantly, and Vaughan doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even shiver.

  ‘Ask him!’ I try, desperately.

  ‘Well . . .’ Alex is irritated. Because it will be a big step down if he doesn’t follow through. Not to mention a royal pain in the arse to think up something else. ‘Vaughan, can you swim?’

  Vaughan raises his head and looks past them, right at me.

  ‘Like a fish.’

  ‘Ha!’ Rick is jubilant. ‘In the drink! In the drink!’

  ‘He’s lying,’ I feel the panic rising in my chest. ‘Vaughan, don’t be stupid, tell them!’

  Vaughan smiles at me, like he’s just seeing me for the first time, then takes a step backwards, towards the sea and oblivion, then another, until he is standing right at the edge, back to the sea. All the time he looks at me.

  ‘Jump! Jump!’ Rick shouts. A couple of others join in.

  ‘No!’ My voice is choked, not loud enough. ‘Not from the top, no one jumps from the top!’

  ‘Jump, you loser!’ Rick calls again.

  Vaughan smiles at him, lifts his arms out to the side, and gives Rick the one-fingered salute.

  Rick runs into him and gives him an almighty shove. The force propels Vaughan in a straight line out over the edge, and for the weirdest split second he just seems to hang mid-air, Wile E. Coyote with peddling legs, and then he’s fallen out of sight, as if he was never there.

  We all listen for the splash. There is none. Everyone runs to the edge, looks down, but there’s no clear view straight down, even with the torches dancing on the water below, we can’t see anything.

  ‘Where is he?’ I gasp. And then I’m running, back the way we came, and then cutting down the cliff towards the beach, not knowing if I’m on any actual path or if I’m forging my own and am going to be meeting my death on the rocks below. I’m aware of people around me, see Alex overtake me, feel his panic match mine. He doesn’t want an actual death on his hands; he probably wasn’t going to make Vaughan jump, just taunt, threaten, humiliate. Alex just puts things in motion and washes his hands of the consequences. That’s more his style. We scramble down the cliff side and find the beach below, then sprint across the sand towards the sea, Rick and Carl hot on our heels.

  There is no splashing, no cries for help, only the sound of the sea gently lapping the beach.

  ‘Vaughan!’ I cry.

  ‘Shut it!’ Rick spits at me. ‘Someone will hear you!’

  I don’t care. I throw off my coat, kick off my shoes and wade into the water, the icy cold slashing me around the legs. ‘Vaughan!’

  Everyone is on the beach now, and torches scan the water. One of them finds a pale shape, hunched over a rock at the bottom of the cliff face. It is not moving.

  ‘There!’ I shout, and more torches join the one on the shape. ‘Vaughan! Are you OK?’ I can’t see his face. The beams of light dance on the pale shape, like fireflies, and I think I can make out the curve of his back, his feet, one arm flung out behind him, awkwardly. I try to look for the red of blood, or for the rise and fall of breath, but he’s too far away and the torches are too weak.

  And we all just stand there. Alex, Marcia and Carl have joined me, knee-deep in the lapping water. For all this talk of jumping in to rescue Vaughan, we are all just standing there, because there is no panicked drowning, and the water may well be flat, but it is very, very cold. What’s done is done. He’s on the rocks. Either he fell on them, and is probably dead, or he scrambled on to them and he’s probably all right. I hate myself for hesitating.

  ‘Alex!’ A voice hisses from behind us. ‘Someone’s coming!’

  That’s enough to make us look round. Martin is standing halfway up the cliff.

  ‘I saw a car’s headlights, somebody shouted!’ Martin has everyone’s attention. ‘We need to get out of here!’

  As soon as he’s said it, bodies get themselves moving. Cockroaches scurrying from the light. I grasp Alex’s arm. ‘Help me get Vaughan.’

  Alex doesn’t reply, but Carl is wading towards the shore. ‘Alex, we have to go, before they come.’

  Marcia tugs at my hand. ‘Come on, Cate. We can’t hang around.’

  I turn on her. ‘What are you talking about? Vaughan is hurt, we have to help him!’

  Her eyes flash. ‘How? If someone’s coming, they can help him.’ And then she’s splashing back to solid ground, and I’m picking my jaw and my heart off the ground. I can’t believe it. I search the fleeing figures for Daniel, without much hope, and I come up short; I’m not even sure he was here to begin with. Only Alex stands by, panting, eyes darting up at the cliff, looking for the mystery person that is surely going to end his career at Umfraville.

  The torches have gone from Vaughan, but now I know where he is I can still make out the shape of him against the grey of the night sky. I remember how to move, and my brain kicks into action. I splosh towards land, ripping off my jumper and tossing it on to dry land, and then I make my way back to Alex who is still frozen to the spot, watching the cliffs.

  ‘Come on! Help me!’ I grab at him, and he finally comes to life and shakes me off, but he’s still transfixed by the cliffs.

  ‘Stranger at the party,’ he murmurs.

  I follow his eyes, and see the flash of headlights on the clifftop. Martin was right. The cockroaches have disappeared, and now it’s only us. I don’t feel panic, I just fee
l relief. Here’s help. Someone to help save Vaughan.

  ‘Alex, we need to tell them. They can get an ambulance, someone to—’

  Alex turns on me, furious. ‘Are you kidding me? We’ll be expelled, probably charged with something. It’ll be the end of everything for me!’ He seizes my arm, and makes for the shore, dragging me behind. ‘We have to hide, we have to go!’ I try to free myself from his grasp, but adrenaline is making him too strong for me to fight. I dig my feet into the shale and seaweed below to try and gain traction, but he’s too powerful. So I choose to buckle and flop into the water, the icy wetness covering my body, and barely registering in the struggle. Alex is strong, but not strong enough to drag me all the way to shore quick enough to escape, so he drops my hand and sprints away into the dark.

  On all fours, I shake wet hair out of my face, the salt stinging my eyes. The cold makes me pant, but it’s OK, I’m wet through now. I spring to my feet, turn out to sea and throw myself through the water towards the shape that is Vaughan. I neither know nor care who is in the car on the clifftop, all I care about is reaching Vaughan.

  The swim is easy, even with my clothes dragging me down. I thank my lucky stars there are no waves. When I am about a metre away, I feel the brush of rock, sharp on my knees, and start the scramble up on to dry land. This is far more difficult than the swimming part, because it’s slippery as hell and every splintered, chiseled edge of rock is like a tiny blade on my palms. But I make it, and when I’m up there and raise my head, I no longer see a body hunched on the ground, but a naked figure sitting up, head in hands, in parody of The Thinker.

  ‘Vaughan!’ I try to speak, but the word comes out more as a gulp for air.

  He raises his head, and all at once I know he’s OK. I rush to him, kneeling down, my hands on his face, my eyes searching for wounds oozing with blood, bones sticking out. There are none. No doubt scrapes and scratches, but no missing limbs or gushing arterial spray. I don’t know how he got here, but he’s in one piece. And he’s trembling with cold and shock, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I look around for anything that will help us, or a path along the rocks to the beach or up the cliff, but there is nothing.