Control: A Novel of Psychological Horror and Suspense

by Matt Shaw

  “Could Chris please report to The Control Room,” the Controller’s voice made Chris jump as it boomed from the intercom system. Chris’ heart skipped a beat. Since the killings started it was the first time he had been called to The Control Room. He stood up and noticed all of the other housemates were looking at him. Some of them looked nervous whilst others looked suspicious as to why he was called and they hadn’t been.

  Chris walked from the room and into the main living area of the house. He ignored the eyes staring at him as he made the lonely walk to the stairs leading to The Control Room.

  “What do you think they want?” Georgia asked as he paused at the bottom of the stairs.

  He shrugged.

  “Well - good luck,” she said.

  Chris wondered whether she really meant that or whether she was saying it to sound as though she were being nice. If they gave him a task to hurt someone, or eliminate them, chances of picking Georgia - that nice girl downstairs, the only one who seemed to care - would be slim. Was that her game? Get friendly with everyone in order to save herself and then, when it is down to the last two, she’d show her true colours? Chris dismissed the thought and continued up the stairs.

  The door was already illuminated with green. Chris pushed the door and stepped in. The other housemates watched as the door slammed shut behind him.

  “Well we know it’s not going to be an elimination,” Paul - as usual - was the first to speak; the first to try and offer some misguided reassurance.

  “Because it’s not Friday?” Jordy asked. “That didn’t seem to matter when they put me in that room.” Jack couldn’t help but look up and stare at Jordy when she mentioned being in the room. The nagging thought bouncing around his stressed mind that she wasn’t the nice girl he thought she was when he first met her. Not because of her infection but rather the fact she had let him fuck her to save her own life knowing full well there was a chance she could have passed it on to him. Had the shoe been on the other foot - he would have chosen death rather than let someone else be infected. His mind drifted to putting his hands around her throat and squeezing until she breathed no more - the thought placed there by Chris. He shook it from his mind. It wasn’t his place to take a life.

  B E F O R E

  C H R I S - A G E D E I G H T

  A young Chris was standing over the body of a dead frog. The frog was crushed almost beyond recognition. A baseball bat, gore on the end of it, was in Chris’ shaking hand. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed uncontrollably.

  His father, a strict man, was approaching from the large house which Chris shared with his father, his mother and two siblings, who were slightly older than he was. His father had a sterner look on his face than usual as he strode towards where Chris was standing. Chis dropped the bat to the floor as soon as he noticed his father approaching.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” his father’s voice was deep and petrified Chris at the best of times but none more so than now. Chris knew that what he had done was wrong. He didn’t know why he had even done it. One minute he was playing baseball with his brothers and the next he had stormed off with the bat when they struck him out from his go at batting. He had started hitting things around the garden with the bat, to work out his frustrations at being beaten by his brothers just as he always did, when he had seen the frog nestled deep in the long grass near to the pond. Without a second thought, picturing his brothers, he had raised the bat high in the air and brought it crashing down upon the frog. Not just once but more than a dozen times. Unbeknownst to Chris - his father had witnessed the whole thing from the living room window where he had been standing, sipping on his hot drink trying to decide whether today would be a good day to cut the grass or not. His father picked the bat up from the grass, “You won’t be needing this again. Gone. Mine now. Too bad.” He looked at the frog and then to his son, “What have I told you about hurting animals before?”

  The frog wasn’t the first animal Chris had killed but it was certainly the biggest. He usually just killed insects as most boys his age tended to do. Whether it was pulling the legs off daddy longlegs or burning ants with the heat of the sun magnified through a magnifying glass he had stolen from his brother’s bedroom - his father always said the same thing, “If you can’t make it, don’t break it.”

  Chris didn’t say anything. He just stood there sobbing. His father looked at him and realised he wasn’t happy with what he had done and he knew that shouting at him wouldn’t turn the clock back and bring life back to the frog. He shook his head at the boy, “Just go to your room. I don’t want to see you,” he said.

  Chris turned and ran from the garden and into the house. The back door slammed shut behind him. His father looked back down at the mangled mess of a frog and shook his head again. He couldn’t help but wonder where his son’s nasty streak had come from. He didn’t understand it and, more to the point, he didn’t like it. Neither did his wife. She’d said to him that - if things continued - it might be worth seeking some kind of professional help for their son. Someone who could point him in the right direction where, with certain things, they were clearly failing.

  N O W

  D A Y E L E V E N

  Chris was sitting in The Control Room’s chair - a look of apprehension on his face as to why he had been called into the room, especially given what had happened when Jack was called in.

  “Chris, as you are aware it is against the rules to discuss who you would put up for elimination…”

  He didn’t say anything but you could see the contempt on his face.

  The Controller continued, “Chris - The Controller thinks the Housemates have been through enough this week so we are not going to punish you as initially intended.”

  Chris looked at the camera, “What do you mean?”

  “The Controller would like to reward you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Controller would like to offer you a taste of Power.”

  Chris waited for them to explain more.

  “As you like discussing eliminations with your colleagues, The Controller would like to give you the chance to discuss eliminations with him right now. The Controller would like you to choose three of your fellow Housemates to face elimination on Friday.”

  “I won’t kill anyone.”

  “Chris, you are not being asked to eliminate anyone. You are being asked to nominate three of your Housemates for elimination.”

  “You want me to name three people I would put up for elimination?” he asked. His question was met by silence. “I don’t need to kill anyone. We’re just talking about who I would put up?”

  “That is correct, Chris.”

  “Well - okay then. I’d put Kate, Paul and Stuart up for elimination,” he said without giving it much more thought. It made sense to put Paul and Stuart up, despite it being Jack’s suggestion to do so. They were the stronger of the Housemates; the ones who could possibly hurt Chris if push came to shove. And Kate - if Jack thought she deserved to win then it meant Jack would choose to save Kate over Chris. If she were already dead then there’d be one less reason for Jack not to save Chris over the other Housemates. A tactical nomination.

  “Thank you, Chris.”

  “Is that it?” he asked.

  “Chris, you may leave The Control Room.”

  Chris sat there a moment - bemused as to why he was being chosen for this out of all other available housemates. He was expecting them to say something else; expecting them to put a sting in the tail but there was nothing. He stood up and the red light around the door switched to the familiar green.

  He pulled the door and stepped out, letting it close behind him.

  “What did they say?” Stuart asked.

  All of the housemates, even Jack, were standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Chris to re-appear from The Control Room. Chris stopped in his steps. The last thing he wanted was to be questioned by the household. He certainly wasn’t
about to tell them what had been discussed.

  “Well?” Paul pushed him, “What did they want?”

  Chris hesitated, “They - er - just wanted to talk about Friday.”

  “Friday? What about it?” Georgia asked.

  “The eliminations?” Kate pushed.

  “Yes. They wanted to know how I felt about it.”

  “How you felt about it?” Kate asked. “How are you supposed to feel about it? How are any of us supposed to feel about it? They’re asking us to bump each other off…” She hesitated a moment, “What did you tell them?”

  Chris went to open his mouth but was stopped by the sound of his own voice, “You want me to name three people I would put up for elimination?” The playback was coming from the plasma screen in the living area. All of the housemates turned at the sound of it.

  “What is this?” Chris ran down the stairs and pushed past all of his colleagues. He ran over to the plasma screen and looked for a way to turn it off as the other housemates followed him, “No, no… This wasn’t part of the deal. This was a private conversation.”

  “What’s going on?” Kate asked. “What is this?”

  “Well - okay then. I’d put Kate, Paul and Stuart up for elimination,” Chris said on the screen. The screen paused. Chris slowly turned around. All eyes were on him.

  “What the hell was that about?” Paul asked.

  “Pretty obvious, isn’t it? He’s put us up for elimination,” Stuart said.

  “Is that right? What have I done to you?” Kate asked. She genuinely looked hurt by what was revealed on the screen. Chris didn’t say anything. His face reddened - both out of embarrassment and anger (the latter towards The Controller). Kate rushed towards him and slapped him in the face, several times. With each hit she called him a, “Piece of shit.”

  Jack pulled her away from Chris, “Just leave it…”

  “What have I done to you?!” she screamed again at Chris. “Fuck you! I have a son! I have a son at home! Fuck you!”

  “I’m sorry!” Chris shouted back as Georgia pushed him back towards the bedroom where he could be kept separate from the ones he had put up for elimination. “What choice did I have? We all have to do this. All of us!” He wasn’t sorry for putting Kate up though. He wanted her gone for reasons already explained. She was competition. She needed to be gone. He was sorry because The Controller had played the conversation into the house for the others to see. An action which had immediately put him up as a target to the others; although, in truth, he was only worried about Paul.

  Jack led Kate through to the garden away from the other housemates, “Come on,” he kept saying over and over again as he pushed her through. She was sobbing.

  “What did I do to him? He knows I have a child,” she said.

  “I don’t know why he did it. That could have been anyone called up there though. We’re all in the same boat.”

  “But what the fuck have I done to him? I thought we were friends…”

  “There’s no such thing as friends in here. Not anymore. You’ve seen what this place is doing to us.”

  “They might give one of us a chance of being saved though, right? Like they did with Jordy?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t have any answers for you.”

  “We need to kill him,” Paul spat as he too came into the garden - accompanied by Stuart and Jordy. “We kill him before he has us killed. That’s what we need to do.”

  “Shit,” Jack muttered under his breath when he heard the conversation the two of them were having as they stepped into the garden. It was only a matter of time before the housemates turned on each other but he wanted to keep it ‘civil’ for as long as possible. Once they started turning on each other, he knew it would snowball so fast with no control. It would literally be a free-for-all until there was only one left standing.

  “You think they’ll let us off if we kill him first?”

  “Unless it’s a double elimination, I reckon so - yes,” Paul said. The two of them looked at Kate. A look on their faces which suggested she’d also have to go - on the off-chance it was a double elimination. Paul looked at Jack, “Although I’m guessing they won’t give a shit who is eliminated as long as someone goes.”

  “What, you threatening me again? This is getting really old. If you think you can take me, by all means make a move,” Jack stood up, ready to defend himself. In his head he’d already played the scenario through; Paul would rush him, Jack would hit him on the head with one of the garden chairs. Simple.

  “I can’t do this,” Kate continued to cry, “I just want to go home. I just want to hold my son.”

  Jack turned away from Paul and Stuart and went back to offering comfort to her, “They’re right - as much as I hate to say it - if Chris goes, they may not make anyone else leave. Think about it, they’ll have the show scheduled for x amount of time. They’ve already lost Fiona this week. One more is probably all they’re looking to eliminate. One more. And if it’s Chris… Well, he put himself in the firing line.” Jack didn’t like talking like this but he liked the idea of Kate’s son growing up without a mother even less. Paul looked at Stuart and gave him a wink.

  Stuart smiled.

  B E F O R E

  D A Y S I X

  “Who would you like to drink the vial?” asked The Controller.

  Without hesitation Philip nominated, “Morgan.” He took a moment to reflect before putting forward his reasons, “The guy is annoying. I mean - I know he is supposed to rile people up but, even so, he’s doing my head in. The sooner he goes out the better. It’s him or me. Hell, if I can’t get him to drink the contents - I’ll drink them myself…” he laughed and picked the vial up off the table.

  “Thank you, Philip, and - remember - none of your other housemates are to know about this or there will be serious repercussions.”

  Philip nodded and slipped the vial into his trouser pocket before leaving the room. He walked down the stairs, back towards the main part of the house, aware that the cameras were following him.

  “Did you want a drink?” Karen called over to him from the kitchen where she was busy making a round of hot beverages for her fellow housemates. Karen didn’t really have a game-plan as such but was very much of the opinion that, if you were nice to people, they’d have very little reason to nominate you. Six days, so far, of making tea for people she barely knew.

  The Controller’s voice came through the intercom system again, “Can Morgan please come to The Control Room.”

  Morgan looked puzzled and got up from the living room sofa where he had been chilling with Jordy and Kate - much to their annoyance. “Try not to miss me too much, girls,” he said. Kate wondered whether the ever watching camera picked up on her eye-roll. “Any idea what they want?” he asked Philip as he started walking towards the stairs.

  “Just asking how people are and how they feel about tomorrow,” Philip said. Morgan’s face immediately dropped.

  “Oh. Right. Okay.”

  “I’m not worried about tomorrow,” Kate continued the conversation with Philip as Morgan disappeared up the stairs and towards the waiting interview with The Controller, “I mean no one wants to go on week one, do they? But I do miss my son. I didn’t realise how much I’d miss him!”

  Morgan took his seat in The Control Room. There was a small box in front of him, the size of a matchstick box. He looked at it suspiciously before speaking, “Hello.”

  “Morgan. You have been chosen for elimination tomorrow.”

  “But I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t someone else go?”

  “Morgan, you are aware that your time in the house was limited. We will not be eliminating anyone instead of you.”

  “But…”

  “Morgan, in front of you is a small box. Inside that box are three blood capsules.”

  “Blood capsules? It doesn’t sound as though it’s going to be the most memorable of exits.”

  “Tomorrow, Philip will be pouring a small vi
al into your morning breakfast so please be sure to eat something which involves liquid.”

  “I eat cornflakes,” Morgan said - a sulky tone.

  “Philip will let you know when he has done this. You will then have to slip the capsules into your mouth and bite down on them when you’re ready to do so.”

  “Okay, yes, thank you - I get the idea…”

  “Morgan, do you have any questions?”

  “You mean like - what if they check my pulse?”

  “A Housemate will be checking for a pulse,” The Controller continued, “they will give confirmation you are no longer breathing.”

  “And why does Philip need a vial?”

  “Morgan, The Controller needs this to look as authentic as possible. If Philip is seen to be using the vial, it will give more weight to the game,” The Controller said.

  “You’re not going to poison me for real, are you?”

  The Controller didn’t answer.

  “And can’t someone else do it? Philip is a prick. I don’t want him having the satisfaction.”