by Kirsty McKay
Rick makes a suggestive whistle, Tesha laughs out loud, Whitney shoots me daggers.
I stiffen. Heaven only knows what he told them about what happened last night. I instinctively glance towards Alex, and he averts his gaze and drums his hands on the desk.
‘Right! Let’s break this up.’ Alex stands and gives Vaughan a clap on the shoulder. ‘Great job with Crypt, seriously, mate.’
Vaughan gives Alex a dweeby thumbs-up as Alex strolls towards the door. Marcia, Rick, Tesha, Anvi and Martin follow. As Marcia passes me, she flashes me a quick smile. My heart sinks. No, friend, this is not all over just because Vaughan thinks it is. Not by a long way.
As Rick exits, he cocks invisible guns at Vaughan and shoots him, with a fake-friendly wink. They all leave.
I quell the urge to puke and turn my attention back to Vaughan. Whitney is standing behind him, leaning over and pressing herself against his shoulder ever so accidentally-on-purpose as she points to something on the screen.
‘Come on, Whit,’ Anvi calls to her.
Whitney whispers something to Vaughan and they both laugh. Anvi turns and looks at me, rolling her eyes, shouting behind her as she leaves, ‘Put the boy down, Whitney.’
Whitney trots after her, finally, with a slight, pitying glance at me, and then Vaughan and I have the room to ourselves.
‘You might want to wipe the drool off your chin,’ I say.
Vaughan raises his eyebrows at me, then reaches over to the computer next to his and types something. He pats the seat next to him, ‘Sit?’
‘Why? Can’t get up?’ I reply. ‘Has she turned your legs to jelly?’
He huffs, shakes his head, and starts typing something.
I stay where I am. ‘I cannot believe you’re best chums with them this morning.’
‘What’s not to be chummy about? I’m part of the Game now.’
‘Rick pushed you off a cliff.’
‘I asked for it.’
‘Wow.’ I walk over to the chair he patted, and sit in front of the screen. Crypt is displayed in full glory. ‘That sounds like victim-speak, if ever I heard it.’
Vaughan doesn’t say anything, just tappy-taps away on his keyboard, typing something that I can’t see from here.
I swivel away from the screen and face Vaughan. ‘So are we just conveniently forgetting what happened last night, or what?’
Vaughan speed types some more, punctuating whatever he is writing with a couple of pronounced key strikes. ‘No, we are not forgetting.’ He stretches out his fingers. ‘But what we are doing is playing the Game. Because otherwise my Peter Pan into the drink last night is for naught.’
‘And what about Mr Flynn?’
Vaughan resumes typing. ‘What about him?’
‘Aren’t you worried about what he’s going to do?’
‘He’s not going to do anything; if he was, he would have done it by now.’ He leans forward and stares intently at his screen. ‘You have a “special relationship”, don’t you?’ Before I have time to respond, he ploughs on. ‘It’s reasonable to assume that he’ll give you a big talk, about how you have to be careful to stay on the straight and narrow for the sake of your blessed exams and burgeoning art school career, but beyond that I doubt we’ll have any trouble with him.’ He stops suddenly, turns around to me. ‘Aren’t you curious? About Crypt?’ he whispers. When I don’t respond, he leans over, takes my hand, and gently places it on the mouse. ‘Take a look.’
‘I cannot believe you’re letting this slide.’ I move my hand away.
‘What?’ He’s genuinely confused. ‘Oh, the initiation thing?’ He tuts at me. ‘Cate, keep up. That was so twelve hours ago.’
‘Not even!’ I shout back.
‘OK, OK,’ he sighs. ‘Be assured, Cate. I forget nothing. But it doesn’t serve me to get upset about it now. This is where my focus lies.’ He taps the screen.
I loll my head back and groan.
‘I also haven’t forgotten that you saved me,’ he says, quietly. ‘I never will. Thank you.’
OK. Well that’s something. I give a kind of half grunt of acknowledgement, and we both sit there in uncomfortable silence for a second.
‘Now, I ask you – beg you,’ Vaughan points to the screen again. ‘Make it all worthwhile and take a look . . . please?’
I turn around to the screen again, slowly, and read this time.
There, on the wall is a roll call of all the users who have signed up so far:
Grand Master
CharlotteCorday
DeadMcTavish
I_did_it
Banana Hammock
AllKillerNoFiller
13*is*my*lucky*number
IceColdBlonde
Vaughan watches me. ‘So, this is the first time you’re viewing this list. I can therefore deduce you’re not any of those already signed up.’
‘That’s over-confident of you; for all you know I was here logging on while you were showering off the salt water.’
‘Too true.’ He chuckles. ‘All I know is that you weren’t in the shower with me. Other than that I’m in the dark.’
‘Anyway,’ I say, running my fingertips along the edge of the desk. ‘Can’t you tell who everyone is? You are the mighty webmaster, or whatever.’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope. I was telling the truth when I said it’s all anonymous.’
‘But you said we can keep private notes on here, files we don’t want to share?’ I click through some of the posts. ‘What’s to stop you from logging in as someone else and checking out all their ruminations?’ I look at him. ‘Other than a sense of honour.’
‘That’s the great part!’ He leans forward, excited. ‘The hardest aspect of this was to keep the passwords secret, even from me. Because the system has to align a password with a username, but it also has to keep that hidden. I don’t fully trust myself not to look.’
‘What do you think? Has the Killer signed up yet?’
Vaughan sits back, thinks. ‘No. Three attempted Kills in the first week? We know this Killer is eager to spill himself all over this – he’s dying to, if you’ll excuse the pun – but he wants to sit back and see what other people do first. He won’t risk the deadline, but he’ll leave it as long as he can to sign up.’
The list refreshes. There’s a new name:
General Disarray
Vaughan barks out a laugh. ‘Oh, nicely played!’
I lean in. ‘Someone is online somewhere else?’
‘Yes!’ He’s thrilled. ‘Now if the tracking was in play we could see which location. And I’m itching to switch it on. But Alex gets to decide when that kicks in, so I will restrain myself for now.’ He grins as he taps on the keyboard. ‘Soon as that happens, I’ll have this Killer pegged, you’ll see. I’ll get him.’
I sigh. ‘Tell me why you keep insisting the Killer is a boy.’
He smiles to himself, shaking his head and staring at the ground as if he’s astonished I can’t see it. ‘I’m disappointed in you. You really don’t know?’
Irritation flashes through me. ‘I really don’t. Enlighten me with your wisdom.’
He sits up, excited. He loves to explain, always has. ‘Look at the victims. All girls.’
‘So?’ I think about it. ‘It’s always the way. It’s almost traditional.’ I reach into my pocket and flick through the little black Game book until I find the pages I need. There in the back of the book are the lists of Games past. The victims are listed in the order they were killed. I read, and think some more. ‘Actually, it’s pathetic, but it is true. Girls are always picked off first. I think they’re seen as easier Kills. The Guild used to be more of a boys’ club, certainly, back in the day – and it was kind of seen as lacking respect to Kill the bigwigs first. Start with a few newbies, then move on to the real players.’ I scratch my head. ‘Ugh, that’s so insulting.’
Vaughan nods dismissively, as if this is hardly the point. ‘You could put it down to the pattern of ‘Girls First’, bu
t it’s more than that. Look at who’s been targeted. Becky, Cynthia, and then probably Tesha or Whit.’
‘Yeah?’ I shrug, ignoring the fact he said Whit. ‘Cynthia’s an Elder, so that doesn’t exactly fit what I just said, but she’s still female.’
‘They’re being Killed in order of fit.’
‘What fit?’ I say, exasperated. ‘I fail to see the pattern.’
He laughs, and it comes out like a bark. ‘As in, how fit they are. Hot. Bellisima.’ He leans forward and touches my knee. ‘Are you familiar with any of these terms?’
‘Urgh!’ I pull back. ‘Stop it! Of course I am.’ I feel myself going red. ‘It’s certainly a theory. And now I consider it, it’s quite an insulting one.’
‘What?’ It’s Vaughan’s turn to be confused, but that doesn’t last long. ‘Oh lordy, how female. You’re actually insulted that you’re not sexy enough to have been Killed. You’d rather be dead and hot, than alive and mediocre.’
‘Mediocre?’ I bellow at him.
‘No! No!’ He holds a hand up. ‘I don’t think you’re mediocre, I just mean that as far as the Killer is concerned, you’re not top three.’ He tries to grasp my knee again, but I’m too quick for him. He sighs, gives up. ‘If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be next.’
‘What?!’ I am – I’ll admit it – all at once terrified and pleased.
‘Oh yes.’ Vaughan gets up, paces, muttering. ‘I mean, it’s terribly subjective, of course, but by a popular standard I’d expect you to be next in line. Arguably, you should have been before Tesha, but then we don’t really know who those bloody balls were supposed to be aimed at. You were right with what you said in the clock tower. This Killer has a theme: blood.’ He fiddles with his mouse, absentmindedly. ‘He likes to get messy. Remember what I said about marking his territory? It’s like he’s spraying his victims.’
‘Oh, bring me a new breakfast,’ I moan, not able to look at him. ‘Please do not elaborate on that train of thought.’ I don’t give him the chance. ‘Well, if this “hotness correlation” is correct, then maybe it’s not a boy – it could be a jealous girl who’s the Killer, or for that matter, a gay girl.’
‘No, no, no,’ he mutters. ‘Not the jealous girl, because – as I think I have explained, very well indeed – these kind of messy Kills are very male. Oh – and of course the Killer’s not a gay girl, because otherwise you would have been Killed first.’
My eyes widen, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of responding. He continues: ‘You’d be top of their list.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, carefully. ‘You being the expert on these things.’
‘Oh, I have studied “these things”, believe me.’ He’s serious. He looks me dead in the eye.
‘There are so many things wrong with what you just said.’ I don’t let myself blush.
Instead, I think hard about telling him about the messages, the watch, the writing in the mug. If it is him leaving these little love notes, he’ll be wondering why I haven’t mentioned it. However, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure it wasn’t him, because he takes this Game too seriously to joke around with it. And if the messages are not a joke, then ‘I’m watching you’ is not a friendly thing to leave at the bottom of someone’s coffee cup, it’s an intimidation. Maybe it has nothing to do with the Game, maybe it’s just someone’s idea of putting the frighteners on me? Or maybe Vaughan’s right, and I am next?
‘Oh! We have a new post.’ Vaughan points to the screen.
INVOKE YOUR SAFETY!
THINK YOUR TIME IS NIGH? THIS WEEK ONLY,
WIN THE CHANCE TO HAVE INVINCIBILITY. THIS
HAS TO BE EARNED; PICK UP YOUR RED
WRISTBAND BURIED IN THE SAND IN THE
ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE. ARE THERE ENOUGH
FOR EVERYONE . . . ? IF YOU FIND ONE, WEAR
IT WITH PRIDE, AND THE KNOWLEDGE THAT
YOU ARE SAFE . . . FOR NOW.
YOUR VERY OWN GRAND MASTER XOXO
‘Nice.’ Vaughan nods, approvingly. ‘Safe all week? There will be a rush to grab the spoils. Shall we go digging?’
‘No.’ Somehow I can’t quite face going down to the beach yet. Or maybe I just can’t face going down there with Vaughan. ‘I – I’ll maybe leave it up to fate. I need to have a shower and do some work at the art studio.’
His face twitches. ‘All righty.’ He closes down his work station, and pushes his chair back. ‘Be nice to me, Cate. I’m going down there, and if I find two wristbands, I might give you one.’
I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic. ‘Thanks,’ I say. Now he can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic. I change the subject. ‘How are the feet?’
‘Shredded.’ He shuffles to the door. ‘But I like a limp. Very Keyser Söze.’
I smile at him. ‘You would like that film.’ I try to remember the exact line. ‘“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”’
He smiles and nods, delighted with me. ‘“And like that”,’ he blows on his fingertips, ‘“he’s gone.”’ He vanishes through the doorway.
As I watch the empty space where Vaughan was standing, I decide that if he is OK with what happened last night, I have to be too. I have a hunch he’s right about Flynny; I don’t think there will be any repercussions beyond a lecture. And the Game is still on, and Vaughan is part of it. I look at the screen, click on ‘Create New User’. A box jumps up, and I begin to type in it. If I’m honest with myself, I’m stoked to still be alive in the Game, and excited about Crypt.
I type. Log in as the new me. The list of users refreshes again, two new users joining the bottom of the list:
Clouseau
Skulk
Ooh, somebody else has just registered at the same time as me. I scan the full list and spend a few minutes wondering who is who, reaching no particular conclusions beyond what the others were saying just before I broke up the party. Maybe it will become more obvious once everyone has signed up.
Some instant messages start to ping in response to Alex’s announcement of the invincibility bands buried at the caves.
CharlotteCorday
Can we keep as many of the bands as we find?
Grand Master
Be my guest. Get digging, my pretties.
General Disarray
Grabbing my bucket and spade!
In spite of my earlier reservations, I feel an urge to run down to the caves, right now. I finish what I’m doing. Just as I’m about to log off, a new message pops up.
Skulk
Watch out, watch out; the Skulk is about
I chuckle. This is going to be fun.
CHAPTER 14
I leave it as long as I can before venturing down to the caves; I really do not want to be there with Vaughan. But after an hour of hanging out in my study alone, thinking about working in the studio, and then deciding I am too preoccupied to achieve anything, I can’t hold back any longer.
Arriving at the caves, I thankfully find myself alone. The floor of the first cave is a total mess. It looks like a pack of dogs has gone crazy digging for bones, the sand in furrows and piles as far as my torch can see.
I kick at a few holes in the ground, with little hope that there will be any bands left. Looking at the cave in full daylight for the first time, I realize that it stretches back far further than I thought it did. I begin to walk the perimeter, looking for any patches of undisturbed sand, but it doesn’t look like my fellow players have missed a single spot. I pass the entrance to the tunnel leading to the Place Most Holy, and then go further around the rock, the bright arch of light to the outside world diminishing the more I walk. I pause by the unexplored passage that runs deeper under the cliff. Nope, I’m not going to venture there. Alex’s post said the first cave only, and I’m happy to stick to it. That passageway was where I’d heard the weird crying noise coming from yesterday.
I continue to walk the perimeter, finding no more passages, and no patches of und
isturbed sand. Whoever has been here before me has truly gone to town with the excavation. No doubt there had been a big gang of Guild members here all at once, and it was probably a whole lot of fun; I feel a pang of regret for the laughs I’ve missed.
Might as well leave. But there’s an urge that’s been itching away at me for the last few minutes: I have to check out the ‘crying’ passageway. Could there be a band hidden just a centimetre or two in there? I walk to the back and flash the torch into the passageway.
The diggers have taken Alex at his word; the sand in the passageway is completely smooth. But I know that Alex can be sneaky. Maybe it’s his idea of a challenge. Should I go further?
‘Sod you, Alex.’
I step in. The sand quickly gives way to rock, uneven and slippery. I walk on, carefully, the ceiling of the passageway suddenly lowering. I have to duck my head to continue forward, but as I flash the torch up, it looks like the passage opens up a few metres ahead. I walk on. This is not just about immunity bands, it’s about that noise. I need to see the spot where Vaughan – or whoever it was – was sobbing so wretchedly. I crouch low in the tunnel, and then after about a metre the roof falls away upwards, and I am able to stand up again.
A huge cavern – I fling out my torch but the beam doesn’t find any far walls. High, too. Echoey, like walking into a church. I shiver in my parka. There is no natural light in here, and in spite of the feeling of space above and before me, it’s claustrophobic, like being buried in a bubble, far below ground.
Noise comes from behind me somewhere, and I spin around, looking back through the passageway.
A shuffling? I click off the torch, and hug the wall. The noise came from the first chamber – it is probably just another Guild member, looking for a band, too late to the party like me. I strain my ears to hear footsteps, a voice, the sounds of digging, but there are none. And then something else: a laugh. Soft, high-pitched.
Fear presses on my shoulders, cold and heavy. Someone – or something – is between me and the sunlight, and that is not what I want. Suddenly I realize what a stupid move it was to come here alone. The Killer knew that everyone would head down here to try and get immunity. It’s the perfect place to get someone on their own, make the Kill.