Killer Game

by Kirsty McKay

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Alex says.

  ‘This is not just Ezra having a word in our ear,’ Carl says to Alex, quietly. ‘It’s the police, man.’

  ‘So?’ Alex says. ‘Everyone here is under oath not to talk about anything!’

  Carl rolls his eyes. ‘Alex, yeah. But nobody wants anything bad on their school record. Things will come out – the Game, initiations,’ he glances at Vaughan, ‘the other Kills. Probably Crypt too. There’ll be some mud-flinging. And this kind of mud sticks.’

  There’s a noise from the outer cave, and Martin appears in the archway. I hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t here before. He’s holding a torch, and panting.

  ‘Good news is, Emily’s OK.’ He looks at Alex. ‘Bad news is, her parents want a proper investigation.’ He collapses on the nearest cushion. ‘I ran all the way . . .’

  ‘How do you know this?’ Marcia asks him.

  ‘Alex asked me to snoop.’ He nods at our Grand Master. ‘The cops were in Ezra’s study, talking with him and Mrs James. I listened in.’ He smiles a little. ‘They had to speak up, because Ezra’s going deaf. I heard most of it.’

  ‘And?’ Carl says.

  ‘Rumours were right. Emily had an allergic reaction to some nut oil on the spider. Her parents flew in from Barbados. She’s OK, she’s left hospital and is somewhere on the mainland with her folks.’ He takes a breath. ‘But, bad news is, the family wants to press charges.’

  Carl swears.

  ‘However,’ Martin says. ‘The police were actually quite cool about it. Said they thought it was a practical joke gone wrong, no real malicious intent. They said that if the school takes the right actions, they think they can persuade Emily’s parents to back off.’

  ‘Right actions,’ Carl says. ‘Find the joker, and kick them out. Great.’

  ‘So what, Carl?’ Rick barks at him. ‘If it wasn’t you, then what do you care?’

  ‘Was the Game mentioned?’ Marcia says.

  Martin sighs. ‘Ezra didn’t say anything, and I thought we were going to be OK, because the police said they didn’t have much time tonight before the tide comes in. But then Mrs James brought it up at the end. She said she had no doubt the Game was connected.’

  Rick swears loudly and kicks out at something. Luckily for him it’s sand, not rock. Roger and Martin get sprayed, but they’re smart and don’t protest too much.

  Alex’s face is thunder. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘The police said they’d be back early tomorrow when the causeway’s passable again,’ Martin says. ‘To talk to everyone. All day, if necessary.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Tesha says. ‘Everyone knows the Game is on, we can’t lie to the police.’

  ‘Just answer truthfully,’ Cynthia says. ‘Yes, the Game is being played, but this wasn’t part of it. Tell them that it’s against the rules to actually hurt someone. None of us know who did this.’

  ‘Do not mention Crypt, people,’ Alex says. ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Well, I’m grateful for that,’ Vaughan says. ‘But Alex, I think there’s one thing we all want to know. Will you be telling the police the identity of the Killer?’

  Alex doesn’t hesitate. ‘The police don’t know that I know, and there’s no reason to enlighten them. I’m sure each one of us will be asked if we’re the Killer, or if we know who he or she is, and it’s up to you to make the decision as to how you answer.’

  Everyone thinks about this.

  ‘Ezra is going to tell us to stop the Game,’ I say. ‘It’s stupid to think he won’t. If we continue to play, we’ll have to act like we have stopped. Kills will have to be private, at least for a while.’

  ‘That has its perks.’ Vaughan smiles at me. ‘Some things are more thrilling when they’re secret.’

  There are a couple of giggles at this.

  ‘All right,’ Alex grabs the velvet bag. ‘Like everything, we put it to the vote. We go to the altar, one by one, write one word on a slip of paper indicating what we want to do. Three choices: red, amber, green.’ He looks over us. ‘If it’s not completely obvious what those words mean, here it is: red for the Game to stop immediately and completely, amber if you want to put a hold on things for now, or green to continue, covertly. Agreed?’ He looks over to Marcia, Cynthia and Carl. They nod. Nobody argues. A vote is fair.

  One by one, we go behind the velvet curtain, in the order we were harvested. By the time I’m kneeling there with the Pen of Doom in my hand, I’ve gone back and forth in my mind so many times my head is spinning.

  Eventually, I write:

  Green

  After all, you only live once.

  After me, it’s Vaughan’s turn. I bet my life he’ll vote green too. When he comes out, Alex is waiting to go in and read the votes, but Marcia stops him.

  ‘We all need to see the votes this time, Alex.’

  He glares at her. ‘That’s my decision. I’m Grand Master. What, don’t you trust me?’

  ‘I do. Completely,’ Marcia says. ‘But I don’t want to give anyone here any doubt. Transparency.’

  ‘Fine,’ Alex says. He gets the bag and brings it back to the table, reaching a hand inside for the first slip of paper. He brings it out and reads it.

  ‘Amber.’ He holds it up for us, exaggeratedly. He gives Marcia the paper, then delves for a second. ‘Red,’ he says between gritted teeth, and quickly goes for a third. ‘Green.’

  ‘Don’t you love the democratic process?’ Vaughan quips, relieving the tension a little.

  Alex continues to read the slips. Fourteen of us are here to vote, and soon it begins to look like this Game is not ending. After thirteen slips have been opened, only four are red. Alex is looking happier, but he’s not out of the woods yet. Five players are in favour of pausing the Game, and there are only four votes in favour of continuing.

  He takes the final slip out of the bag. ‘Green.’

  ‘It’s a tie!’ Tesha says. ‘Split vote, hung parliament, whatever.’

  ‘As Grand Master, I get the deciding vote, and I say green for go,’ Alex says grimly.

  ‘We did not decide that, Alex,’ says Cynthia.

  ‘“We” don’t have to!’ Alex shouts. ‘I am Grand Master! This is my Game!’

  ‘What about Emily?’ Whitney says. ‘Shouldn’t she have a vote? Should we email her, or something?’

  ‘Like she’s going to care!’ Rick spits.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ Marcia stands up. ‘We don’t have time for it. The Game is on, Alex’s decision seconded by me, and I actually voted amber, so I’ve switched my vote. Done. As far as the rest of the school is concerned, we’ve stopped playing. Be mindful: Kills must be private. No throwing down skulls in the dining hall, no wristbands nailed to the noticeboard. No evidence of anything.’

  ‘If anyone has a problem with that, leave now,’ Alex says. ‘You four who wrote down red, if you’re unhappy, leave now. And if it turns out one of you is the Killer, the Game is over anyway.’

  Everyone is silent. No one moves.

  ‘Good,’ Alex says. ‘Now for heaven’s sake, keep a level head out there. All of you. Let’s get back to civilization before anything else happens.’

  Vaughan gets up first and offers me a hand. He pulls me up and I stand a little too close to him. Everyone is getting ready to ship out, nobody is paying us any attention. He slips a hand under my coat around my waist, and pulls me towards him slightly.

  ‘Oh. One more thing. Vaughan,’ Alex says. Suddenly all eyes are on us. I step back, awkwardly. ‘Tracking on Crypt is activated. All users can now be located on the map. If these Kills are going to happen privately, we have to give everyone else half a chance to guess who the Killer is. Make it happen, Vaughan.’

  Vaughan gives a little salute. As we leave, he whispers in my ear. ‘Now things get interesting. We have two Killers, the one playing within the rules of the Game, and the rogue. Will either of them have the balls to strike with the police sniffing around?’


  I look at him. ‘Again, with the balls. Even now we have two Killers, you think both are male?’

  He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘I guess all bets are off.’

  ‘Aren’t they just?’ I whisper back. ‘All we really know is that one of us is next.’

  When we leave the caves it is dark, and we click on little torches to help with the walk back. Vaughan and I climb the cliff path, leaving a respectable distance between other Guild members. Vaughan is slightly ahead of me. When he gets to the top, he stops suddenly.

  ‘Hey.’ I push his back, gently. The path is too narrow and scratchy with gorse. He has to move or I can’t get past him. He stands there with his back to me, stock-still, as if he’s spotted something in the distance. ‘What’s up?’ I say.

  ‘Hey! Was that . . . ?’ he mutters. ‘I thought I saw . . .’ He looks at me, then back to whatever had caught his eye before, and sets off at a run.

  ‘What?’ I call to him.

  ‘Come on!’ He sprints back to me, grabs my hand. ‘Hurry!’

  ‘Vaughan, what the hell?’ I run after him, my torchlight bobbing on the ground. He heads up towards the studios, then makes a left towards the woods. ‘Where are we going?’ I try to catch up, but by now he’s too far ahead for me to grab. ‘Stop!’

  ‘I just saw – you need to be quick!’ He doesn’t stop, but ploughs on, the thicker grass under the trees not slowing him. I follow as fast as I can, but my legs are leaden, and I begin to lose him, flashing my torch up and just catching glimpses as he darts around the next tree. I keep up as long as I can. ‘Vaughan!’ My heart is slamming, my breath short and painful. The woods are thinning out again now, and I stop and drop hands to knees, panting. I should be able to see him. Even if he’s quite a way ahead, I should be able to see his torch at least.

  But I’ve lost him.

  I catch my breath, and straighten up. ‘Vaughan?’ I mean to shout, but even spoken the word sounds too loud in the quiet of the woods. I walk slowly towards what looks like the treeline, every hair on my head standing up, feeling the electricity that only comes from being watched. He’s here, somewhere, just watching me. Or someone else is. Maybe the person we were running after.

  I clear the woods, look down, and realize where I’ve come out. I’m at the top of the amphitheatre, the semicircle of grass before the stone slabs start, the slabs that make up the rows of seats built into the side of the hill. Below me is the sandy stage, the scene of my initiation.

  In the middle of the stage, still switched on, lies Vaughan’s torch.

  I plod slowly, carefully, down the steps towards the stage. ‘Vaughan?’ I say again, almost under my breath, but the acoustics amplify my words. I reach the sand, and walk over towards the torch, picking it up.

  ‘Vee?’ I whisper.

  Hands touch my shoulders from behind. I gasp, and spin round, dropping the torches, and feel his arms wrap around me, his lips kissing mine. I enjoy it for a moment, then push him off me.

  ‘You weirdo!’ I hiss at him. ‘What were we chasing, anyway?’

  He moves in again. ‘Only this moment.’

  ‘You are so unbelievably corny,’ I mumble, through kisses.

  *

  Later that evening, alone in my study, I log on to Crypt and lightly stroke my lower face. Ow. Stubble rash. Vaughan was going to have to shave more often if we were going to be doing this regularly.

  The intranet is quiet; I suppose no one wants to risk being caught doing anything against the rules now the stakes have suddenly been raised. Tracking is activated; when I log on, a little red skull appears, hovering over the quad on the map. I move my cursor over it, it reveals my username, Clouseau. Blimey. This does feel risky.

  As I sit looking at it, another red skull pops up alongside mine. Another foolhardy soul is somewhere in the quad:

  Skulk

  If the blue meanies are going to get me they’d better get off their asses and do something. (So said the Zodiac Killer. He’s never been caught.)

  Then, a private IM pops up:

  Skulk

  Wipe that smile off your face, Cate. Need me to spell it out, bitch? You’re next.

  My hand drops away, and my head whips round; the curtains are drawn. Nobody can see me. But two things are sure: Skulk knows my username, and Skulk rolled that can into Vaughan’s study.

  CHAPTER 20

  Saturday, and although my red snake bracelet has disappeared along with my confidence, my signs are still vital.

  Ezra graces us with his presence in Morning Exchange. There are two police cars outside Main House, and Mrs James is no doubt keeping the fuzz happy with weak cups of Umfraville tea while Ezra gives us the pep talk, or prep talk, as it will probably turn out to be.

  He gives a thinly veiled reading about integrity, then updates us with what we already know: Emily is doing fine, and the police are here to try and get to the bottom of what happened to her. School is cancelled this morning for the sixth form, and we are to be confined to our studies and the common room, to wait to be called to interview. He urges each of us to speak openly to the staff in the first instance if we know anything about the matter.

  The subtext is: if you know anything, keep it in-house.

  We hit the quad, and our studies. Technically, it’s supposed to be work time, but there are no teachers overseeing us – yet – and everyone’s too hyper to open a book. Crypt is still nervously quiet; even Skulk’s not posting this morning. Most of my classmates are hanging out in the common room, or in the studies closest to it, doors open, music on. There’s a weird excitement in the air, and I find myself enjoying it, even though this is serious, and Emily was hurt. There’s safety in numbers. And after all, it’s not every day that something actually happens here, and it’s not every day that you get interviewed by the police. I have nothing to be guilty about, do I?

  I spot Vaughan lugging some kind of boxed hardware down the corridor to his study, spilling those funny little polystyrene peanuts as he goes.

  ‘Hi,’ I walk up behind him. ‘Got a moment? I need to talk.’

  He puts the box down. ‘Uh-oh. Dumping me already?’

  I smile. ‘Nooo.’ I lean on the wall, slightly self-conscious. ‘I didn’t know you were mine to, er, dump.’

  He doesn’t say anything, just affects a serious face. It’s intended to make me giggle, but I am all business.

  ‘I got a message from Skulk last night.’ I keep my voice low. ‘Telling me my time is nigh. And being kind of nasty about it.’

  The serious face is real this time. ‘And you believe it?’

  I nod. ‘Truth is,’ I lean towards him, lowering my voice, ‘I’ve had a couple of real world messages before the smoking can in your study. Little notes telling me I’m being watched, or I’m running out of time, all of that.’

  Vaughan looks puzzled, and slightly angry. ‘And you’re only telling me this now?’

  ‘Yes.’ I shut up as a couple of kids squeeze past us, stepping over Vaughan’s box with some sighs and tutting. When they’re gone I lean towards him again. ‘To be honest, before, I thought they might have been from you. Having a laugh. Or your idea of . . . affection. In a slightly scary way.’

  ‘Really?’ Vaughan says. ‘But you don’t think that now.’

  ‘No. Not unless your idea of affection is calling me a bitch.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘When in doubt, bake goodies!’ Marcia shouts down the corridor. ‘Who’s in?’ There are whoops and hollers from the general direction of the common room.

  ‘Listen,’ Vaughan whispers. ‘I need to get this box in my room, then I’m up with the boys in blue over at Main House.’ He pulls a face at me. ‘The glories of having a surname at the beginning of the alphabet. I’ll catch you later, and we’ll talk more. Hang on in there.’

  I nod, and let him go, watching him stagger off down the corridor before turning and following the noise into the common room.

  Marcia is standing by the counter and the
oven at the back of the room, with a big mixing bowl. Most of the Guild is here, lounging, making coffee or toast, messing around. Notably, no one is touching the computers.

  ‘So are you making brownies?’ Rick shouts at Marcia. ‘What are you putting in them, eh?’

  Much laughter at this.

  ‘Only yummy stuff.’ Marcia smiles, mixing furiously with a spatula. ‘I think cupcakes are the order of the day.’ She reaches for a glass bowl of chocolate that she has melted over a pan on the hob, and pours the thick stuff into her mixing bowl. As I watch the gloop, I have a flash back to my initiation. Marcia obviously doesn’t. ‘Mmm,’ she says, dipping a finger in and licking it. ‘They’re gonna be so good!’

  ‘Didn’t know they had cupcakes in Spain,’ Rick says, trying to lean over and dip a finger in too.

  ‘Hands off!’ Marcia smacks him on the behind with the spatula, and cake mix splatters.

  ‘Oi!’ Rick shouts, turning round to look at his bum. ‘Now what does that look like I’ve done?’

  Everyone is howling. If I ever found Rick funny, I certainly don’t now. Even if Vaughan forgives him for pushing him off the cliff, I’m not sure I can. I linger in the doorway, not wanting to join in, and yet really not wanting to go and sit in my study on my own.

  ‘How are you holding up?’

  Daniel has joined me in the doorway. For the first time in recent history, I’m actually glad to see him.

  ‘Yeah, great,’ I lie.

  He gives me a look. ‘I’m exhausted. Just came out of my interview.’

  ‘You did?’

  He nods. ‘Come to my study?’

  ‘Yeah, of course!’ I glance at Marcia, who is pouring mixture into little paper cupcake holders, whilst trying to dodge Rick. He’s got chocolatey hands and is creeping up behind her and trying to grab her white T-shirt. I have a feeling this is going to degenerate into an all-out chocolate battle, and soon. I’m pleased to escape.

  Daniel’s study is as far away from the common room as it is possible to be, and that’s the way he likes it. We walk there in silence, his violin case our companion, as ever. He unlocks the door, and we walk in. The study is immaculately tidy; he shares with a kid in our year called Geoff – another musician, who’s currently on tour with some youth orchestra and won’t be back in school for another couple of weeks.