Paused for a moment.
And then…Click!
Jesus goddamn bleeding Christ.
He let out another sigh of relief.
He pointed the revolver back at the ceiling and pulled the trigger.
Click!
Oh God no. Fifty-fifty chance left. Heads I live, tails I die.
Damien took a few, increasingly anxious breaths and felt his heart beating right up against his ribs. His lungs no longer obeyed him and pumped erratically on their own.
Slowly, he lowered the revolver back to his head. He nudged the muzzle against his temple. If this bullet was going to kill him, he wanted to make sure it went straight through his brain; none of that lodged in the right/left hemisphere and paralyzed for life palaver. If this was it, he wanted to do it clean. He pressed the revolver harder against his skull, causing stars to invade his vision.
Here goes. My dad always said there was honour in dying by a bullet.
Fuck him!
Damien pulled the trigger.
Click!
“Jesus effing Christ,” he said out loud. A huge smile had taken control of his face and he was gushing as excited breaths spilled forth from his lungs.
He quickly pointed the revolver at the ceiling and pulled the trigger one last time.
Bang!
The explosion of the bullet leaving the chamber made Damien cry out in fright, but he was soon back to laughing as ceiling plaster rained down on him like snow.
“Woo! That shit was intense. I’m alive, baby!”
Damien felt positively insane and he had to mentally take note to take control of himself. He forced his breathing to slow down and tried to calm down. The urge to take a piss became urgently strong. Even after resigning himself to death, the act of avoiding the grim reaper through a game of chance had reignited a fuse inside of him that he thought had gone out.
The bracelet on Damien’s right wrist suddenly sprung open and hit the floor with a clank. The relief was instant and he immediately started rubbing at the irritated flesh that had been held captive for so many days. Suddenly it felt like freedom was a tangible pursuit, and not just the hopeless dream it had seemed earlier in the day.
Damien was still feeling a little manic, but he was calming down gradually as he begun to have several thoughts; amongst them was one clear intention.
I’m going to get out of this goddamn house alive.
“CONGRATULATIONS, HOUSEMATE DAMIEN. PLEASE LEAVE THE ELIMINATION CHAMBER.”
Damien did as he was told.
Day 8
Damien hadn’t realised the weight of the bracelets until one of them was gone. As he lay now on the sofa, staring out at the dew-soaked grass of the garden, he couldn’t help but rub at his liberated wrist over and over again.
Last night he had actually managed to get a little sleep. From the snoring going on around him, so did everybody else. With one of Damien’s bracelets gone, they had all opened up to the possibility that they might get out of there. There was a chance that the winner would be set free – and maybe the runner up as well.
If The Landlord actually kept his word and honoured the contest, then it made everything a muddled mystery again. If all the housemates were there to die, then it was easy to believe that this was all just a revenge for hire scheme that people had paid into. But if anybody was allowed to walk out of here alive then things were obviously more complex than that. What about the person that had paid for revenge? Would they accept their candidate walking free? If there was a winner at the end of all this, then was it really a game show? And if so, then who the hell was watching?
Now that he had stirred from slumber, there was no way that Damien could fall back to sleep, so he got up from the sofa and went over to the kitchen. The last resupply had provided them with some fresh coffee and tea as well as the usual ample amounts of alcohol. Damien thumbed the switch for the kettle and took a seat on the stool as he waited for the water inside to boil.
Back home, he would often stick the kettle on for Harry, who was an avid tea drinker. Damien preferred coffee. With light of what had happened concerning his bracelets, he wondered if there was still the opportunity to win the prize money. If the two million pounds really did exist, there was still a chance to save Harry. However slim the chance for a cure might be.
Harry’s sickness had come on very suddenly. It had started with a few strange comments about his friend ‘Lucas’ and had progressed to wild tales about ‘a blanket of snow covering the Earth.’ Damien had no idea what delusions Harry was talking about and at first assumed his friend had started drinking again. But then, one day, after several bouts of severe headaches, Harry pointed at Damien and said, “You! You froze to death. What are you doing here? You’re dead.” Just as Damien was about to reply, to say that enough was enough, a violent gout of blood burst forth from Harry’s nose and he collapsed to the ground unconscious.
The ambulance had arrived and carried Harry away. Twenty four hours and several tests later, doctors confirmed that he had a brain tumour. It was the reason for his bouts of confused babbling and manic delusions, and it was killing him.
Damien had wept, perhaps for the first and only time in his life. When his father had gone away to prison he had felt almost nothing, but the thought of Harry leaving was too much to bear. Despite having changed so much, Damien didn’t think he could continue on the same path without Harry’s guidance. He selfishly needed his friend to stay alive so that his own life was not upended back into the chaos he had only just managed to claw his way out of. Most of all, though, Damien couldn’t face Harry dying because he loved the man. He was family. Harry was a father in the true sense of the word; not through biological potluck or obligation, but through genuine affection and loyalty.
I can’t lose you, man. I have to get out of here.
Damien forwent his favoured drink of coffee and poured himself a cup of tea. He then took the steaming beverage over to the sofa and sat down in the spot where he had been sleeping for the last few hours. It was still warm.
For once, Danni had not slept beside him. He assumed that she was still feeling guilty about spinning the wheel when everybody else had decided not to. Although, as things turned out, it hadn’t been a bad thing that she did. If there was a chance that somebody could get out of here alive, then what Danni did was fortuitous.
Although it could all just be a ruse to make us start participating in the games again.
Damien knew that there was still a large, even more likely possibility that all of them would still die inside the house, but they had nothing to lose by hoping otherwise. If Damien could just get the other bracelet off his wrist…
He took a sip of his tea and sighed as it relaxed him. It was a simple pleasure. He then took some time to study his fellow housemates – the final competitors.
Jade lay asleep in a star shape, legs and arms sprawled outwards. She slept like she lived, loudly and with little regard for those around her. Richard lay beside her. His body was folded in, arms and ankles crossed. The racist piece of shit had fallen in line somewhat since their situation became more desperate, but Damien hadn’t forgotten the man’s true colours or what he had done to Lewis. Richard was a remorseless animal and that could not be forgotten. If anybody deserved to be here it was him.
Then there was Jules. What the woman had done to her sister was reprehensible, but was it due to malevolence or mere selfishness. From what he knew of Jules, she was an anxious, emotional person. Her insecurities may have been more to blame for her past actions than an actual desire to cause pain. Out of everybody who had had their sins exposed, hers were perhaps the most forgivable – the most human.
Maybe that’s why Danni tried to palm the story off as her own.
Jules slept silently and still, more at peace than the nervous worrier that she was while awake. In fact, out of all of them, Jules was the only one who made no sound at all while she slept.
Jade’s eyes fluttered and she was awake,
staring directly ahead. Then she took in her surroundings and saw that Damien was awake as well.
“Morning,” he said to her softly.
She smiled at him glumly while rubbing at her eyes with a balled up fist. “Morning. Did I miss anything?”
Damien shook his head. “I’ve only just woken up, but everybody’s limbs seem to be attached, so no change yet.”
Jade chuckled. “Ever get the feeling you took a wrong turn in life?”
“All the time, but not lately. I don’t care what these maniacs think I’ve done, I know that I deserve to live out the rest of my life. I’ve made mistakes in my life, but I’ve owned up to them. I don’t answer to these tossers.”
“Then who do you answer to?”
Damien shrugged. “My conscience. And right now it’s clear.”
“I hope one of us gets out of this alive,” said Jade. She let out a long sigh. “And if it’s me, I’m gonna make sure I bring these fuckers down.”
Damien placed a finger against his lips. “Best keeping those intentions to yourself. You don’t know what they can see and hear.”
Jade nodded thoughtfully. Her usually impulsive nature seemed subdued this morning. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve always needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. Perhaps I’ll work on that if I get out of here.”
“I think we would all do well to work on ourselves.”
Damien went back to drinking his tea as Jade dozed off again. After a few minutes, Danni and Richard became awake, almost like a sixth sense told them that they were being watched.
Damien said, “Morning,” to them both.
“Did I miss anything?” Danni asked.
Damien chuckled. “That’s the exact same thing that Jade said when she woke up.”
Danni smiled. “We must be developing a hive mind.”
Richard stretched out his legs and then got up. “I’m going to go stick some toast on. Anybody want any?”
Nobody did.
“Suit yourselves.”
“I fancy a cuppa,” said Danni, getting up.
“I just boiled the kettle,” said Damien. “Should still be warm.”
Danni nodded and headed off into the kitchen. Jade had fallen back into a deep sleep and Jules was still unmoving. Damien watched her for a while and wished that he could sleep so serenely. His own slumber was full of fits and morbid dreams.
She looks so peaceful.
As he studied Jules, he had a strange feeling come over him. Her body was a little too still; her sleeping a little too restful.
“Hey, Jules,” he said quietly. Then he said it a little louder. “Jules!”
Jade opened her eyes and looked at him. “Jeez, man!”
Damien smiled at her. “Sorry. I’m just trying to check if Jules is okay. She hasn’t budged in a while.”
Jade turned sideways on the sofa and faced Jules. “Hey, Jules,” she said jarringly. “Yo! Jules, wake your lazy ass up!”
Jules remained still.
Damien leapt up from the sofa. “Oh fuck!”
He went over to Jules and grabbed her by both shoulders. He shook her vigorously.
There was no response. Jules head flopped left and right, but her eyes did not open.
Then Damien noticed the blood.
Between Jules’s thighs, dark and drying on the sofa cushion was a vast bloodstain. It looked as though she had lost pints of the stuff. Her skin was almost white.
“She’s dead,” said Damien.
“You’re shitting me,” said Jade, leaping up from the sofa.
Damien shook his head and sighed. “Her internal injuries must have been worse than we thought. She must have been slowly dying since the task she was in.”
“Least she went in her sleep,” said Jade. “Maybe she didn’t even know nothing about it.”
“Perhaps. I hope so.”
Damien went and informed Danni and Richard in the kitchen. They were both shocked. For one of them to die so quietly, amongst all of the dramatic death and chaotic torture, was a surprise.
“I just hope she’d made peace,” said Danni. “She did a bad thing, but if she regretted it enough then she deserved forgiveness.”
“None of that means shit,” said Richard. “Dead is dead. There’s no judgement, no redemption. We live our lives, good or bad, and then we die. Nothing we do matters worth a shit.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Danni. “We carry our sins to the grave. Whether or not we die with a clear conscience makes a big difference.”
“Not to me,” said Richard, shoving a slice of buttered toast into his mouth and biting down.
Danni shrugged. She could see there was no point having a philosophical debate with the man. “So what should we do with her?”
“We’re all in this together now. I say we put her somewhere peaceful.”
Danni nodded. “Okay. We can put her in the bedroom with Catherine’s body, but cover her with blankets and make it a little nicer for her.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I think you and I should be able to manage on our own. She won’t weigh much.”
Damien took Jules’s head while Danni took her bare legs. Together they transported her across the living area and towards the patio door. Jade helped out by sliding open the door for them.
The grass was wet as they stepped on it and Damien was cautious not to slip. As he looked up at the sky, he felt sure it was going to rain again.
The door to the bedroom was hanging open. The dead, mutilated body of Patrick lay nearby and had started to smell. Damien wrinkled his nose in disgust.
I feel like I’m in Hell, surrounded by rotting flesh.
What makes me really frightened is how used to it I’ve gotten.
Damien and Danni shuffled through the bedroom door and approached the nearest bed. They eased Jules down onto the mattress respectfully and then stepped back.
“Should we say a few words?” Danni asked.
Damien shook his head. “What would be the point?”
He grabbed a couple of grimy blankets from some of the other beds and draped them over Jules. Danni helped him pull the sheets out so that they covered every inch of her.
“I think that’s about as respectful as we can make it.”
Damien nodded. “At least we tried.”
“Promise you’ll do the same for me…I mean, if it comes to it.”
He looked at her and nodded. “I promise.”
2
The Landlord’s booming voice was due any moment, they all knew it; could even feel it in their bones probably. The routine of the house had become ingrained in them all and when something was about to happen they expected it, like a sixth sense.
I see dead people.
Couple of ‘em are in the garden.
As expected, the speakers in the ceiling crackled. The Landlord began to speak.
“HOUSEMATES, I WOULD LIKE TO CONGRATULATE YOU ON COMING THS FAR. WITH THE UNFORTUNATE DEATH OF JULES, YOU ARE NOW THE FINAL FOUR CONTESTANTS. HALF OF YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO LIVE, AT THE EXPENSE OF THE LIVES OF THE OTHERS. FOR SOME OF YOU, THESE WILL BE THE FINAL DAYS OF YOUR LIVES. FOR AT LEAST ONE OF YOU, THESE NEXT FEW DAYS WILL SIGNAL THE BEGINNING OF YOUR NEW PATH. YOU WILL BE REBORN AND RELEASED BACK INTO THE WORLD, BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE VICTORIOUS.”
Damien scratched at his forehead and realised that he was sweating. He had survived so much already and now that an end was finally close, he felt like perhaps his luck would run out. Everything The Landlord said suggested that there was a way out of this house for somebody, but what if Damien ended up getting this far only to fail one of the final tasks? The thought was infinitely worse than if he had died in the very first task against Chris.
“THERE WILL BE NO TASK TODAY IN CELEBRATION OF YOU HAVING COME THIS FAR. THE PANTRY HAS BEEN FULLY STOCKED FOR YOU TO ENJOY. THE VIEWING SCREEN WILL BE DISPLAYING MOVIES FOR THE NEXT TWELVE HOURS. ENJOY YOURSELVES, HOUSEMATES. YOU HAVE EARNED IT.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “The prick
almost comes off as being benevolent.”
“So, I guess we can relax for a while,” said Jade.
Damien folded his arms. “It’s just prolonging everything. I would prefer to just get this whole thing over with. I don’t understand what there is to gain by waiting.”
“What do you mean?” asked Danni.
“I mean, whose benefit is it for? If we’re in here to play games and die, then why wait? Dragging it out suggests that there is something to gain by us being alive.”
Danni frowned. “And what would that be?”
Damien thought about it, looked up at the nearest camera, and gave the only answer he could come up with, “Entertainment value.”
“You think we really are being watched by an audience?”
Richard laughed. “Yeah, I bet we’re on Comedy Central.”
“Of course not,” said Damien. “But perhaps we’re part of some black market venture. People will pay for anything, believe me, I used to sell a lot of it. This could all be some black market game show to entertain sick fucks with fat bank accounts.”
“They could be betting on us,” said Jade. “Maybe that’s how they fund it all. We get nominated and paid for by whoever feels wronged by us, and then the people running the show allow people to place bets on who will win the tasks.”
“And who will win the entire thing,” said Damien. “That would be the big pay off.”
“Which would mean,” said Jade. “That the promise of our lives is real. It would undermine the game to kill us all. The betting only makes sense if there is a true winner to bet on.”
“Maybe they expect the two million to keep us quiet. They probably expect us to take the cash and just try and put the whole thing behind us.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” said Danni. “The housemates who have died here are not worth the risk of us trying to expose everything. They were all bad people. If we win, we should just take the money and run.”
Damien nodded. “I see what you’re saying. The dead housemates were all pretty disgusting, for sure. That doesn’t make this right, though. We’re all human beings, not play things to be tortured and killed at the whim of those richer than us. I can’t live in a world where that is okay.”
The Housemates: A Novel of Extreme Terror Page 14