#4 was screaming now, blood was coming out her head somewhere and Stephen thought it was from her ear. Maybe that hit on the head did more damage than he had first thought? Zoran took his attention away from Franklin slightly to see what this deranged woman was screaming about. Even though he now seemed to be enjoying himself, Stephen could see that Zoran was close to losing the plot entirely. His eyes were wild with lust – lust for blood, for domination, for submission. He turned to #4 –
As he did, #6 stepped in front of Zoran and planted a solid right handed punch into the back of #4’s head. Her squealing ceased instantly and she fell forwards, nothing broke her fall as she smacked face first into the concrete.
The room went silent – even Zoran stopped and looked at the carnage on the floor.
“Shut up,” #6 said softly as he made his way back to where he was seated. He was calm, detached, like he had acted upon auto pilot.
She’s “brown-bread” mate
Huh?
Gone the way of the dodo – deceased
You sure?
Course I’m bloody sure! How dare you question me – who do you think you are? The temerity, the gall, to even doubt my judgment. For someone so worthless, so insignificant, I can’t believe you even have the confidence to doubt me. When have I even been wrong? Hmm? When have I ever led you astray or sailed you up the garden path? Never! That’s when
OK, OK, OK…
Don’t shut me up – you can’t shut me up. I’m only quiet when I want to be
Zoran moved towards #6 – Stephen could see that another death was imminent
Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?
Zoran stood in the middle of the crowd – his fury steaming. His nostrils flared, his knuckles creaked.
CAN YOU HEAR ME STEPHEN???
“Yes, I FUCKING HEAR YOU!!!!” Stephen yelled, making even Zoran jump a little. “The whole world hears you and I’ve had enough. Just leave me alone!”
From the crowd there was some nervous laughter. Stephen looked and saw the shocked look on Carly’s face. The old lady was looking towards the floor. All other eyes were on Stephen. Zoran leaned in:
“I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
He took a step towards #6 and looked like he was about to strangle this man as well. Then the door flew open and in strode a tall lean man, probably 10 years older than Zoran. Stephen saw that everyone in the room noticed the man enter and the atmosphere changed in an instant – it was Derek. Anarchy was near and the violence was almost out of control – instantly that stopped once Derek entered.
He was lean and fit, even through his clothing Stephen noticed Derek’s physique and could sense the power that lay beneath. In a second he was next to Zoran – the huge psycho was the only one in the room who hadn’t noticed him come in. Derek put his hand on Zoran’s shoulder.
“That’s enough Zoran,” he said. The voice was familiar – he was the man in charge.
Zoran changed instantly – from raving psycho hell-bent on carnage and destruction, to chastised servant. His head bowed and he motioned for the guards to take out the two dead women.
Before leaving, the Derek said: “Next round in 5 minutes.”
The demon was quiet, for now. But he would be back – for sure.
Perpetual Guilt
When Derek came in to stop that monster Zoran from killing everyone, Judith had an overwhelming sense of relief. Zoran looked like he was going to kill everyone in the room. She just kept her head down and said nothing, trying her best to be as invisible as they knew she was. Then, just as he was going to…well…strangle/rape/torture or just generally humiliate that other player in this game, that other guy, the one they heard on the speaker, he came in and told him to stop.
Simple as that – simply: “Stop it.”
Judith didn’t know Derek, who he was or what he meant to the game. He didn’t yell, he barely touched Zoran – just a hand on his shoulder – but it was enough for Zoran to be put back in his place like a child. When Derek spoke, Judith recognized it as the same voice as the MC they heard on the speakers. He must have been watching on from another room so she started to look about to see if there were windows or cameras. The large warehouse like room had fluorescent lighting which hung down on from the ceiling. Above the lighting it was dark so there she thought there could be a one-way window, or camera or something above the lighting, but it was almost impossible to see any.
Judith watched Derek and Zoran leave the arena. She wondered what the history was between those two – how was it that Derek had such a hold over Zoran? This huge guy could break any of them in two, even Derek (although, she admitted, he looked like a tough cookie too). But what she saw in that brief encounter was respect. Zoran didn’t look like he feared Derek, but he respected his authority over him.
Judith was glad Derek came in when he did – Zoran looked like he was about to lash out at everyone. She didn’t want that – she didn’t come there to be bashed or choked to death.
Judith looked around the room to see if she could see Alex anywhere. She thought she saw him earlier in the orgy, sitting on the edge of a table whilst one of the slaves gave him oral sex. It was a whole group thing with others gathered around so she wasn’t 100% sure. She had never thought of Alex in a sexual way at all – he’s so young he could be her son. But when she thought she caught a glimpse of him, she could feel that familiar fire rising inside her, low and deep. That feeling that she longed for someone deep inside her and the fulfilment and pleasure that came from that.
Instantly she felt guilty, like she was betraying Alan. She felt shame and disgust that she was cheating upon the oneness and serene completeness she felt when she was intimate with Alan. Judith’s loneliness, her isolation, it helped betray her and give her sexual feelings when she didn’t want them – at least not with Alex. She loved Alex – but not physically. She loved him for the help and support he gave her only.
Judith tried to refocus back into the twisted euthanasia she had voluntarily entered into – to try and block out the feelings of physical intimacy that she missed and the subsequent guilt at the thought that anything resembling that closeness would not involve the man she loved the most. He was dead and she was there because of that. She went there for the express purpose of reunification – uniting her, once again, with the man she loved in the after-life.
Judith knew that some might think that because she was brought up as a Catholic that she would go to hell for volunteering to be in this room. That guilt, that Catholic guilt, it was still there and always would be. It felt like she should feel guilty about anything that gave her pleasure or freedom. That guilt gave way to the overwhelming need to be with Alan once again.
And now, as the wave of relief hit Judith that Zoran’s murderous rampage had been curtailed, she was starting to feel guilty that she was there.
Up until then, she had no feelings of guilt or regret – no indecision or doubt that maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. It seemed so right, so appropriate that she would end her life quickly and painlessly so that she could be reunited with the love of her life. But now she was starting to feel like maybe she had made a mistake.
Previously, she had a gun at the back of her head (and her gun pointed at the back of the person in front) and she still felt okay about this path, like this was the best and only option she had. Judith never even felt like her life was in real danger because she had this thought that it would all be over so quick, she wouldn’t even know it had happened. But now she had been faced with slower, more painful deaths and Zoran looked like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had departed everyone else in the same manner.
Judith was scared.
She was scared to die like that.
She was scared of the pain.
She had seen enough pain in Alan over the months that he slowly wasted away, a parasitic mutation which ultimately killed its host.
She didn’t want to go through that – which was why she was there. She was h
ealthy now, but she knew she wouldn’t always be that way. She would get sick and if it wasn’t cancer, or heart disease, or Parkinson’s, or Alzheimer’s or something like that, then she would probably live for another 30 odd years.
30 more years without seeing Alan, without the warmth of his touch, without the soft caress of his large leathery hands.
30 years without looking into those watery blue eyes of his, seeing past his external beauty and into the heart of a man so filled with love for her.
How could Judith go decades without that?
Why should I? She thought. Why can’t I determine what I want to do, how I want to live my life? And when I want to die?
It didn’t affect anyone else – she had no one else.
That’s freedom of choice – in its purest form.
And Judith thought that was about to be ripped away from her after Zoran started to get wound up. She couldn’t hear what he said to Franklin, but she could tell by the look on the soiled man’s face that it wasn’t nice. It would only be a matter of time before Zoran turned his attentions to her, Judith knew it. She could only remain invisible for so long.
Judith saw Stephen rolling toward that Carly. Judith felt another pang of guilt at the thought of the word “rolling” and the fact that she had insulted him earlier. He seemed to get over it pretty quickly though – he obviously was keen on Carly. Now that Judith looked closely at Carly, she did look sick. She was more pale than Judith originally thought and she was not moving freely, it was like she was in constant pain or –
Oh!
The penny dropped for Judith.
She’s going to die! Carly was terminal.
Judith imagined that it was some advanced form of cancer. Or maybe it was AIDS? Carly was leaning against the wall, but her legs looked like they would give way at any moment. Carly had been shuffling around too – that same pointed shuffle that Alan did in the months that he could still walk. She was still thrusting those perfectly pointed boobs out though – her shoulders hadn’t yet collapsed under the weight of agony and despair. But they would if she lived long enough.
Judith had a mixture of guilt and pity for Carly. Pity for her situation, for what she was obviously going through and the reason why she was in this room, this game. But Judith felt envious too – envious that Carly had found this painless way out when Alan had to suffer with prolonged agony whilst Judith had to watch it.
Carly was there for the same reason as Judith – to avoid the pain. Judith’s pain would come from either a slow debilitating illness and subsequent death, or from 30 odd years of heartache and loneliness. Carly’s pain was months (or maybe years) of declining health, pain, treatment, more pain and, ultimately, death.
The inevitability of both of their existences – painful, lonely deaths – had drawn them together. They weren’t so different after all. Judith resolved that she should talk to Carly before the next round – it could be her last chance.
Unfinished Business
In the viewing room Derek sat down with Zoran. He had his head bowed and didn’t say a word. Derek wanted to discipline him, berate him, punish him. Just like old times.
He wanted to yell at him…but he knew that there was no point. Not because Zoran was a huge psychotic killer who could not stop killing, who could not fill the void within his soul. But because they both knew that this was over.
“What the fuck was that Zoran?” Derek asked, knowing the answer anyway
“I cannot help it – I fed up. Bored. I am sick of this shit…” his voice trailed off.
Zoran was only happy on the killing field, in the heat of battle; or in the torture chamber. Derek knew the problem – he’s angry.
Angry – at his country, the war, the deaths, the pointlessness of it all.
Angry – at people who are happy, or simple, or content, or hedonistic, or worthless.
Angry at everyone.
Angry – because he hadn’t been killed yet
Men like Zoran should not survive conflict, they deserve to die on the battle field in one way or another. Even in modern conflict, where the battle field is not as clearly defined as in previous wars, men like Zoran should be fighting their way through insurgent strong-holds, getting dropped behind enemy lines to clear the way for the other troops.
They shouldn’t survive these wars because they are not designed to. They can’t handle it – they cannot function outside of that arena. They need to go from conflict to conflict, fight to fight, war to war. There’s always one on somewhere and they were never happier than when they were faced with life and death.
Derek used to think he was like that, but it was more a case that he enjoyed the adrenaline rush of the conflict – like a bar-room brawler who will fight anyone after 10 beers. In Namibia, with Sonja, he learned that there was more to life and that he didn’t want to die on the battlefield. Perhaps he learned that a few years after most normal people. “Normal” people learn this when they meet someone and get married, or have kids, or both. They discover that the thrill of life and the possibility of maybe not making it back wasn’t as important to them as those people in their lives – new people like children. It took him longer than most to realize that.
“I have been speaking with Kobus van der Waart,” Derek started to explain to the sulking Zoran, “back in Windhoek. He tells me that two of his mines in Sperrgebeit are leaking stones in a major way. He’d like us back there tomorrow if we can get back.”
“Sperrgebeit…” Zoran pondered this for a while. He knew that Derek was not asking him, nor was he seeking his opinion or approval. He knew that when Derek mentioned this type of thing it’s because the deal has already been done. What he was pondering was the location.
The land on the coast between the Orange River northwards to Luderitz has been a happy hunting ground for them over the years. He knew Zoran was thinking of the lifestyle they made there and the impact they had in this region. He knew that once word of their return got out, the pilfering might cease anyway – such was their reputation.
Derek was thinking of only one person, one thing. Sonja. She represented future, she equalled peace. Sonja was life and that was Derek’s sole motivation to get back to Namibia.
“You know I like that country in there – we are kings there.” Zoran smiled quietly to himself.
“Yes we are,” Derek replied.
“We are like Gods to those people.”
“Yes we are,” he replied again.
“I very much think this is where we should be.”
That smile, the menace behind it, Derek had seen that for so many years. For so long he thought that he had turned a corner when he didn’t kill Zoran that day near Novi Travnik in the old Yugoslavia. He thought that he had saved someone that was worth saving, utilizing a previously unknown part of his conscience (namely, realizing he actually had one) and spared a life instead of routinely taking one. It is now, in the viewing room above the orgy and game of Russian Roulette, that he realized he had failed Zoran.
Derek may have turned something in his own life, but he failed Zoran’s fate by not killing him when he had the opportunity. Zoran was supposed to die on the battlefield and Derek Giles denied him that pre-ordained rite.
Zoran started to chuckle very quietly, thinking about the camps in the bush south of Luderitz in Namibia and it was then that Derek realized he would kill Zoran there.
Once order has been restored, and he has served the purpose Derek needed him for, then he would quickly put a couple of bullets into the back of Zoran’s head from point blank range and give him the soldier’s send-off that he deserved. The end of his pain that he was destined for.
Derek had prolonged Zoran’s life and all the suffering the big psycho had caused ever since had been Derek’s fault.
Derek didn’t regret having kept him alive – he needed Zoran’s talents and his fury to achieve all that needed to be done. Without him, Derek would have continued to wander the world as a soldier of fortune
and, undoubtedly, would have died in some remote part of the world with no-one to mourn him and no burial, just a carcass for insects and scavengers to feast upon.
But the time had come to send him off, finish what he started back in the early 1990’s and end Zoran’s suffering once and for all.
It sounded like closure.
It sounded like destiny.
The nihilistic path he had been on since the Balkans War began now had a destination. Before now it meandered around the globe, killing, torturing, and generally causing as much carnage as he could get away with for so many years. And now there was an end of the road for Zoran – back in the location that he was probably most at home.
It sounded like the end of his futility.
But, in order to fulfil this destiny, they needed to finish the game tonight.
“Zoran, we have to finish this off tonight. You can’t simply go in there and lay siege to everyone.”
“You saw what that fat woman did.”
“Yes, I did, but the bodies are piling up. No-one’s going to try shit from now on…trust me.”
Zoran knew this was true – they had seen it before with mob mentality. Once you break them, then you own them. They become your clay to model any which way you want. For Derek, here in this warehouse, he simply want to end this and get the hell out of here – back to Namibia, back to the diamond mines.
Back to his love, his future, his salvation from all of this.
“You are right,” Zoran nodded, “always you are right. This will end soon I think – then we can return. I know why you want to go back too – it’s for Sonja isn’t it?”
The look on his face was one of jealousy and resignation. Derek was disappointed Zoran brought Sonja up; it sullied Derek’s memory of Sonja, hearing her name come out of Zoran’s mouth.
“Yes…of course...” Derek said finally, after watching Zoran slowly get up and move towards the door. “There is unfinished business there and you know it.”
“True – it is not finished for me either.”
And he left the room to finish the game.
Kindred Spirits
Carly noticed Judith looking at her – a look that she didn’t understand. Up until she approached Stephen, Carly hadn’t even noticed Judith was there. She was so wrapped up in the tension and excitement in the room, that she hadn’t paid much attention to all of the other players. Now that she thought about it, she wondered how she missed a woman clearly well into her 60’s playing Russian Roulette in the middle of an orgy.
Stephen was talking to Carly but her mind had drifted away. It wasn’t that he was uninteresting or she didn’t want to listen, it’s just that her little expanding organism within her was, once again, trying to tear her peritoneal lining into shreds, leaving it hanging in tatters like the rainbow coloured plastic of those old fashioned fly screen curtains. Her family had one on the kitchen door when she was a kid. Her mother hung it there…before...
Her mother’s death and then her father’s suicide – the emotional pain of the recollection drowned out some of the visceral pain of her demonic cancer. Anything as traumatic as that would always leave a deep emotional scar that would never heal on a child – and also on the adult that child became. It was as much a part of Carly and her life story as anything else and, over the years, she had learned to embrace it and understand it for what it was – fate. That was destined to happen to them.
She knew that it was unfair – unfair to her Mum and unfair to Carly. And, now that she was endeavouring to go the same way as her Dad before she went the same way as her Mum, Carly realized that it was unfair on her Dad too. For years she hated him…hated the fact that he chose the easy way out. He left her behind and that was what she hated him for.
Why didn’t he take me with him? This was a cry she had for many years afterward. For the best part of a year after he died, she thought she must have upset him so much that he didn’t want to take her with him to see her Mum. Or, worse still, she started to think that maybe her Mum didn’t want her there either. Both of her parents had left Carly – what did she do to deserve that?
She had to avoid the agony her mother went through and she now understood why her father thought this was his only option. Life with the two of them was sheer misery – for him and for Carly. In the end, this was the best option for both of them. He knew it, which was why he had arranged foster family care for her anyway.
Stephen was talking, but over the top of him, Carly said: “She’s staring at me.”
“Who is?” He asked and swivelled on his wheels to see who Carly had her eye on.
“That old lady – the one that had a go at you. And me too. She’s been staring at me for the last few minutes – ever since Zoran left.”
“Maybe she fancies you?” Stephen wasn’t serious, he was just trying to make light of it for Carly – he could see she was a little freaked out.
He smiled a cheeky grin, a dimple appeared in his left cheek. Carly also noticed the faint outline of freckles across his nose, remnants of a childhood spent outside playing in the sunshine. He could be right about the old lady, thought Carly, but she was a little repulsed at the thought – no-one likes to picture old people having sex.
Well, okay, maybe some people do. But Carly wasn’t one of them.
Carly wouldn’t be having sex when she got old. She won’t be getting old at all.
If, by being at the end of your lifespan means that you are old, then Carly was clearly a senior citizen well into the autumn years of her life – and she hadn’t even reached 30 yet!
“No, that’s not it.” She paused for a moment and then something dawned on her. “I think she’s going to kill me.”
“Nah,” he said incredulous, “no way. Not her.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I don’t think she’s going to kill you. Even if she tried, you’d be able to take her out. You’re much younger, stronger, fitter than her.”
You don’t know the least of it pal, Carly thought to herself. In her current state, she may look like she was fit and healthy, but she was a façade – like a papier mache statue made of skin, the wire frame was represented by her brittle and decaying bones. There weas no substance behind the body everyone saw – a hollowed shell of human pulp was all that lay within the foldless, smooth, perfectly formed skin.
Her flesh exoskeleton hid the churning black death that grew within her.
The left side of Carly’s mouth drew upward in a lopsided sneer, bearing the teeth underneath. She felt her left eye wince as well and sense the pressure between her gritted teeth. She noticed this micro-seconds before she felt the jabbing pain sear through her again. She felt like doubling up on the floor in the foetal position, curling into as small a ball as possible to squeeze the pain out of her pores.
Carly wanted this to stop.
She wanted the pain to go away.
She wanted everything, everyone to GO AWAY!
She wanted her family back.
Carly wanted them back so much right now – someone to hold her and comfort her. Someone to tell her that it was going to be alright and actually mean it – even when they know it’s a lost cause and there was no hope left. Mums do that don’t they? Carly wondered.
Carly wanted her mother to hold her in her warm comforting arms, cradling Carly’s head. Her mother’s long fingers would comb through Carly’s hair, gently massaging the scalp beneath. She would give her pain relief which, over time, stopped working. But it would be enough to take the edge off and allow Carly to be held without feeling like she was about to shatter into a million shards of skin and bone.
Why can’t I have that? She thought.
Why do I NOT get that? Other people have that, she pondered.
Other people have long, happy, prosperous lives, surrounded by their loved ones that care for them all their decades on this planet. And then they die short peaceful deaths in contented happiness, surround by their loved ones.
But Carly
didn’t have that privilege – she got to die like this:
Wasted away by cancer;
or this:
Shot in the head by someone she had never met before
Some choice huh?
And now, as the pain drew out of her like the slow exhale of smoke, she could see that the old lady was almost upon her. Carly couldn’t move.
This is it! She’s going to kill me! Thought Carly, transfixed, paralysed.
Stephen wasn’t looking at Carly – he was watching Judith. He was watching her speak. Carly couldn’t reply, the breath in her lungs was frozen solid in mid-breath – like sleep apnoea but she was wide awake. When the pain got like this, she couldn’t breathe so her lungs just froze for a while. But her ears were working and she could hear the Judith’s words.
“Don’t be afraid love,” she said.
“I know what’s happening inside you,” she said.
“I can see your pain,” she said.
Her arms reached out to Carly but she couldn’t move. Carly was partially immobilized by fear and partly by pain; and, in some small way, by curiosity. Her mind started to register the words Judith said.
How does she know? Does she have the same problems? Is that why she is here – to beat the pain and despair that dying of cancer will bring?
Judith talked again, this time not waiting for a response. It looked like she knew that Carly was incapable of replying at that moment so she took that opportunity to speak freely, without fear of being interrupted.
“I saw my husband die of cancer – and the illnesses that developed as a result of it. I saw him waste away over the last few months of his life. I know that pain, the look of agony you are trying to hide from everyone. My Alan tried to hide that from me too – walked like you do with those little steps, the stiff gait. I saw him stiffen up, his face twitch with the recognition of the returning demon in his body, kicking the hell out of him from the inside. I never wanted to see that again – and then I noticed it in you just before. I didn’t recognize it earlier – I was so caught up in everything else that was going on. But I can see it now in you. It’s fading isn’t it? It’s disappearing and pretty soon you will be able to function again – talk, walk properly, be a human being again.”
She waited for Carly’s response but Carly was still frozen by emotion.
“Are you sure?” Asked Stephen…then he looked at Carly: “Is she right?”
Carly simply nodded and hung her head, her loose hair falling down around her face. Carly wanted to hide in it, lose herself in the forest of hair so she didn’t have to see anyone, or talk to anyone, or be anyone ever again.
“So that’s why you’re here…”and Stephen’s voice trailed away. He leaned back into his chair and, for the first time, Carly noticed that he looked completely exhausted. His clothes were drenched in sweat and he looked beaten.
“Yes…that’s why I am here.” It was all she could say.
And then Judith put her arms around Carly. This woman Carly didn’t know; she reached out to her and held her – firm. Her arms enveloped Carly and pulled her in tighter.
Carly disappeared into Judith’s bosom – shrunk into a mini-person and fallen into the fatty folds of her body, like a doll snuggling into a bean bag. Judith’s dough-like belly surrounded Carly, warmed her, held her.
Comforted her.
It’s what Carly needed – no, what she craved.
Carly threw her arms around Judith as well, holding on tightly/firmly – never letting go. That act of physical embrace – the electricity and comfort that came from it – that filled Carly up at that moment. It gave her what she needed right there and then.
It was a few seconds before she realized that the shuddering she felt was her crying.
Moment of Clarity
The room was more subdued now. Stephen noticed that the sex had certainly calmed down a lot since the recent bout of killings –Zoran’s psychotic outburst had put a dampener on the night’s proceedings. Derek announced that the next round would begin very soon and Zoran re-entered carrying five guns.
Stephen was sure that someone would die this round
Stephen was certain that there was more than one bullet in each gun.
Stephen was scared that he might be the one to die.
That’s you – to a tee! Scared, weak and woeful!
The demon announced his arrival in Stephen’s brain with his usual brand of negativity and vitriol. Stephen knew that his time was limited and that he had begun a course of self-destruction this evening that he could not back out of – one of the few commitments in his life he actually intended to see through to the end.
But, in a twist of fate and irony, one of the few times he actually did intend to honour a commitment, he now had a change of mind. And that was due to Carly.
Come on, you sorrowful sack of shit! Some young tart bats her eyes at you, wafts some cheap perfume in your face, and gives you the time of day and you’re all of a sudden in love again? How many times do I have to go through this with you?
None! That’s the answer to that – you NEVER have to go through it with me.
What the HELL do you mean by that?
You choose to go through it with me, tearing apart any chance I have of a relationship because of your jealousy and anger. You are driving me insane.
Insane? I’m driving you insane? You’re already insane!!! What do you think I am anyway? I’m the product of your insanity – the love child of your lack of rationality and your inability to deal with anything!
As usual, the demon spoke the truth. He existed in Stephen’s mind as an entity that Stephen wasn’t sure was entirely separate from reality anyway. Had he always been in Stephen’s mind, in his head? Was the demon an evil incarnation of his conscience?
Was this God speaking to him?
Not the God of love and peace and forgiveness. Is this the God of vengeance, retribution and hellfire? Old Testament God – living inside the skull of Stephen?
When the saints heard the word of God, did they hear the demon like this? Or did they channel the God of love and peace? And, if so, why did Stephen only hear the demon of smite?
Because, and I have told you this more times than I can count, because you are worthless
Nothing
Pathetic
Useless
Unlovable
You have no redeeming features
No future
A loser
Give up now
The demon continued as he always had done
Petty
Self absorbed
Small minded
Timid/shy/backward…
The tirade continued on inside Stephen’s head as the heavy gun was thrown onto his lap by a chaste looking Zoran. He still had the air of menace that he carried from the moment Stephen first saw him in the underground car park, but he was now quiet, reserved. Whatever Derek said or did to him worked.
With the weight of the gun on his lap, Stephen concentrated on it trying to block out the demon’s repetitive montage of negative character traits –
measly, weasley, under-achiever…
Which was proving to be a challenge. Most of all, with his mind taking a kicking inside his head, Stephen was tired. He wasn’t sure if committing suicide (even by proxy) would rid himself of the demon but it sure was worth a try –
lily-livered, yellow bellied, cowardly…
He had, over the years, challenged the demon on why it bothered with Stephen anyway. Why would it spend it’s time with such a worthless insect of a man anyway?
To feed upon you – I exist to provide you with a sense of reality and, in turn, I feed off your ego, insecurities and banality
It once told Stephen.
Stephen was simply so tired. Tired of the demon, tired of the wheelchair…tired of life. This escape, when it came, was his last resting place. Somewhere he could finally lay his head to sleep without the constant barrage within reminding him of all the reasons why h
e hasn’t succeeded in life.
No-one needed that kind of affirmation did they?
selfish, terrible in bed….
Well, the demon was bound to bring that up wasn’t he? No matter how many times Stephen tried to reassure himself (and negate this assumption by the demon) by remembering the women he’d been with who had obviously enjoyed themselves, the demon would never listen. He always had an answer.
bad driver
Bastard! He had to bring that up – now!
Thought that one might get your attention…well, it’s true isn’t it?
Quiet! I’m trying to listen!
Derek was talking –
Don’t Shush me! Answer the question!
Stephen pictured Judd Nelson in “The Breakfast Club” quizzing Molly Ringwald and asking telling her to “Answer the question Claire”!
Answer the question!
The demon took on the form of Judd Nelson – long dark oily hair, black over coat, Doc Martin boots – all attitude. It would not cease until Stephen gave the answer it wanted – he couldn’t ignore it or else the constant badgering would never cease.
“OK – yes…I am a bad driver!” Stephen blurted out.
Those around Stephen turned and looked at him and Derek stopped speaking. Stephen knew he had said it aloud but, after years of similar such situations where the demon would invade his consciousness and become a part of his speech, he was getting used to the looks he got.
That look said: nutcase.
The look said: Weirdo.
The look said: Stay away from me.
It went silent for a few seconds and then Derek continued as if nothing had happened.
“Zoran will make sure everyone is in position – place you bets and we will start the next round very shortly.”
The energy level in the room picked up as people started laying bets on which of the five remaining players would or wouldn’t get their heads blown off. Stephen felt that Zoran, and probably Derek had had enough and simply wanted this over and done with. The orgy was winding down, most people had started putting their clothes back on. But the betting still went on in earnest.
Money was placed at the feet of Stephen’s chair, below his useless feet and legs. His feet were swollen with the oedema of incapacitation – no manner of drug therapy or physical stimulation seemed to help. His blotched reddened skin looked like taut sausages, ready to burst with the pressure of the fluid beneath. The money was directly beneath his feet and it was safe – there was no way he could pick it up even if he wanted to. Yet another reminder of the misery his life had become imprisoned in this chair.
A chair that you confined yourself to ages ago – remember that
I do, I do…I said it – I am a bad driver
You were already imprisoned before that – maybe not physically, but certainly mentally. Psychologically.
But –
Don’t bother denying it – I was there remember. I’ve always been there
Again that was true. The demon had always been there and he knew all of Stephen’s dark secrets – the reasons for why he was the way he was.
Zoran had them all in a circle now – Stephen aiming at Franklin aiming at Judith aiming at Carly aiming at #11 aiming at Stephen. A circle of death.
Franklin’s fat sweating head was directly in front of Stephen and he had stopped his crying and bleating and settled into his inevitable fate. Finally he seemed to be accepting the undeniable. Maybe he too realized that someone (if not all of them) were going to die in this round?
Then, and only then, did Stephen realize that he actually DID NOT want to die. The demon was silent which surprised him, but nonetheless, Stephen came to the conclusion that he actually wanted out of this thing.
Maybe he should have simply thrown himself off a building – once you begin that process, there’s no going back. No getting out of it. No return.
No calling 000 and getting your stomach pumped after an overdose of sleeping tablets
No getting your veins injected with Naloxone to combat a heroin overdose.
He wanted Carly – more than he wanted to cure his unhappiness through death. Maybe she was the cure for him? Perhaps that was his fate here tonight – rather than death, fate brought him here for life. A second chance, a new beginning – with Carly.
Yes – she was damaged goods, but so was he. Everyone in this room was damaged in some way or another, but beyond hope?
Stephen started to think that maybe he wasn’t beyond hope – that maybe there was a chance for him and the catalyst for this, the vehicle that could take him away from what seemed like a pre-ordained date with destiny, was Carly.
He turned to talk to her and a sharp crack hit him on the back of the head from one of the guards. “Face ahead,” he said, his accent strongly South African – straight off the High Veldt.
Stephen turned back and faced Franklin. The din died down as the bets slowed and all seemed to be ready. Derek counted backwards as the room fell silent – the tension palpable as they all waited. Stephen’s hand was sweating heavily, the gun was slippery in his palm. He had to squeeze the stock tightly to stop the heavy metal killing machine from slipping out.
Stephen could hear the room breathing slowing – one huge organism primed for an explosion of death and release.
The numbers stopped and he squeezed the trigger – Click!
Then BANG!
Right behind him.
Carly had killed #11.
No other bangs rang out and Stephen turned to find the dead eyes of the drug addict staring straight into him. For a brief second he saw relief.
Basic Instinct
Empty – that’s how Carly felt. Killing someone was nothing like she expected at all. Carly thought maybe it might be a huge rush of adrenaline, endorphins flushing through her brain and exciting her. Or maybe she would feel full of regret and pity for the poor soul she had dispatched to another realm.
But she didn’t feel anything at all – numbness prevailed. Maybe that feeling of regret would hit her at a later date, a time in the future when the shock of blowing someone’s head off (even though she half expected it this time) hit home and she realized exactly what it is she had done. The full extent of her murder hadn’t hit her yet and she didn’t expect to be around long enough for it to do so.
Carly tried to think of a time when she had killed anything at all. She had sprayed flies, spiders and mosquitoes with insecticide; she painted the spiders almost white with the spray. Carly wasn’t sure if the chemicals killed them or they simply drowned.
But that didn’t count, in this context anyway. She cannot think of anytime she had killed anything with her bare hands. This was the first time a gun had gone off in her hands and she was surprised that she actually held onto it. Carly did expect there to be a death this time around – and she had a feeling that she would be the one to deliver it. It’s not like the gun felt heavier or anything as tangible as that – it was more a gut-feel.
Sixth sense.
It wasn’t a premonition or anything; it just didn’t seem like a total surprise that the gun went off in her hands. Sometimes Carly got a feeling that she knew something bad was going to happen, an ominous feeling in some way. In all reality, she didn’t really believe in all that paranormal stuff other than the fact that, at the end of this night’s proceedings, she would be reunited with her Mum and Dad once again.
Heaven and hell – just paranormal alternate realities to keep the great unwashed masses under control, Carly thought. But she still believed. She didn’t know if it would be heaven or hell when she was reunited with her parents, but it had to be somewhere better than this.
Somewhere without pain, without cancer.
The closer Carly got to the end of her life, the more she wanted to believe in it too. She didn’t want “this” to be all there was. That after her own head was splintered by the supersonic lead projectile, she would be ground up and fed to pigs somewhere – and that’
s it. She hadn’t gone through all this suffering in her life to simply end up as methane and shit.
Carly dropped the gun to the floor and it was swept up quickly by one of the guards; it barely came to rest before he pounced upon it. That was a quicker retrieval than previous rounds which lent Carly to think that maybe there was more than one bullet in that thing. That the odds were stacked, bases loaded – it was bound to go off.
Maybe this time she got unlucky – that the chamber opposite the firing pin in the gun behind me was empty? In the minority.
And then, for the first time, Carly felt a sense of relief. Relief that she wasn’t dead – that same relief you get when you catch yourself just as you trip at the top of the stairs, or get a close call from a car when crossing the road.
Relief that she still lived.
And, Carly thought, if I feel that way, I ask myself do I really want to die tonight? If I did, why am I relieved that I haven’t?
After letting out the emotion and pain with Judith earlier, Carly felt that a weight had lifted off her somewhat. The pragmatic part of her says that it was just psychological and the reality of cancer was that she was still going to die. And she knew this was a fact. But she also felt a sense of contentment that she hadn’t felt before – like she relieved herself of some sort of burden.
A problem shared was a problem two people had.
Judith had been through this before, she had seen her husband die slowly from cancer and the complications that surrounded it. The treatment alone was painful enough and it was for all those reasons that Carly was there and avoiding the inevitable. Judith didn’t try and talk her out of it either – which Carly thought she might. She said she understood why Carly was there.
She said she knew why it was that Carly wanted to avoid the pain and suffering that lay ahead of her.
She said that she was sorry.
Judith understood that Carly didn’t come to this conclusion easily or rationally. When is rationality a requirement for deciding when to die? Carly knew it wasn’t a rational decision – but she was in an irrational situation. There was no cure for her, there was no future. Her short-term prospects were her long-term ones…pain, doctors and death.
And now, on cue, the pain built within her again. Acute, stabbing, piercing through her like a timely reminder of the reasons for being there. It negated that feeling of relief she had, conflicting her but, as it continued unabated, galvanized her decision to be there.
And now Carly sat and waited for the gun to be returned so she could continue this sick game – and she was grateful that she hadn’t died. Maybe it’s like a person who suicides by drowning – in those few seconds they fight and scramble like mad for air.
The basic human instinct to survive.
Carly wondered if someone who committed suicide by jumping from a 50 storey building regretted the decision halfway down? Seconds from smashing into the concrete and providing innocent passers-by with a memory they wished they never had, does the jumper think: “Oh, shit – maybe this was a bad idea?”
Carly would never know.
The basic instinct to survive over-rid the mind’s desire to destroy itself.
Human instinct was irrational – trying to keep alive a diseased body like hers. There was no rhyme or reason for it. The conflict she felt was irrational as well – nothing was making sense. Carly felt she just needed a break, some time to think things through.
But she had stepped off the ledge and slipped past the 49th floor.
Fanciful thoughts preoccupy her as well:
Maybe they can cure me? Someone must be first.
What if I’m wrong? And it’s not cancer?
Maybe I can control it? Live for many years with the beast vegetating within, lying in wait but still allowing me to function?
She knew it was folly to even think like this, but her mind was doing somersaults now. Hope butted in and confused the issue, muddying her clarity of vision for the future – short that it was.
If only she hadn’t cried like that to Judith.
If only she hadn’t noticed Carly.
If only Stephen hadn’t noticed Carly.
Carly didn’t know his story or why he was here – there may well be a very good reason for it. But if he was suffering like she was suffering, then maybe they could go through this together. Support each other – Support Group 101.
People who survived cancer
Or…
People who survived Russian Roulette
There certainly was something about Stephen that was very endearing to Carly. Regardless of the wheelchair, outside of this place she would have been very attracted to him. He had an air of charm that she knew he wasn’t aware of. And he was attractive too. Those deep brown eyes, long flowing hair – a rough wildness about him that she found sexy and intriguing.
It looked like he used to walk; his legs were not spindly remnants of what might have been. They have atrophied and wasted away through lack of use, but they looked well formed – like they used to work once.
If she didn’t have cancer….
If he wasn’t wheelchair bound…
If they both weren’t hell-bent on killing themselves…
Then maybe, just maybe, they could have had a future together.
Well, in all actuality, they DID have a future together. But it wouldn’t be long one. In fact, it could only be a matter of minutes. Carly was pretty sure those guns were going to come back into the room any second now and they would take part in the next round.
In her new found clarity of mind, Carly realized just what a twisted and debauched place this was. The orgy itself was Sodom and Gomorrah – but it seemed to have calmed right down. She remembered when she came here the first time, the orgy lasted almost the whole night – certainly well past the last death in the roulette game. But, then again, back then there was no anarchy like there had been tonight. Zoran was out of control before and Carly didn’t think anyone was going to be able to stop him. Then, out of the blue, Derek came in and ended it with just a few words. She had no idea who he was other than the voice they heard over the speaker.
Derek scared her more than Zoran. If he was the mastermind of this sick ritual, and he can control a monster like Zoran, then he was someone that should be genuinely feared.
The basic human instinct to survive.
Fight or flight – get the hell out!!!
What am I doing here? Carly thought to herself. Her initial thoughts to kill herself, after knowing how advanced her cancer was, involved sleeping tablets and vodka. But she didn’t want her rotting corpse found three weeks after she had died by some neighbour inquisitive about the smell. It just seemed so tacky.
But now that Carly thought about what had been going on here tonight, she was wondering if this was really the right way for her to get out as well?
She was passing the 30th floor and having second thoughts.
The basic human instinct to regret stupid decisions.
Carly knew that she couldn’t leave the room – not unless she won the game. And the reality of her situation was such that she didn’t really want to win it. If she did, then she had more decisions to make. Does she play again when they next meet and hope she lost then? If so, will she have strength to participate?
Or does she simply take the easy way out and overdose – giving the innocent passer-by a smell memory they wished they never had?
The only reason to survive would be for Stephen but, in order for her to survive, he would have to die – negating the reason for survival anyway. The ultimate Catch-22.
Those that were partaking in the orgy had pretty much stopped now and were placing more bets on the outcome of the next round. The sex had all but stopped. A few die-hard people, coked out of their heads, continued with some domination-sex – three guys and a girl about Carly’s age. Carly could see their drug-fuelled pleasure, their vacant bliss. This poor girl will be feeling her experience for a few days Carly expected.
> Once the drugs wear off.
The basic human instinct to numb the pain.
Carly’s pain would never be numbed – not now. It ebbed and flowed, receding and swelling…but it would always be there. And it always grew.
And the feeling that she had made a mistake in partaking in this game was now swelling within her.
She was reaching 195km/h – terminal velocity. The tenth floor flashes past – concrete rushing up at her.
She couldn’t bail out – she couldn’t go back.
The tension mounted and Carly turned to the door, waiting for the guns to re-emerge.
End of the Road
Derek was concerned about Zoran – even more so than normal. After he spoke with him about returning to Namibia, Zoran inhaled a ridiculous amount of cocaine – a level which would kill most normal human beings. A nutcase like Zoran coked to the eyeballs is not a happy prospect. Given his state of mind and his last comment-
“True – it is not finished for me either”
Derek was concerned where Zoran’s head was at.
Maybe he knows my plans for him – a quick execution in the bush, thought Derek, the paranoia nagging at him, confusing him.
Maybe he plans the same for me? To get in before I get him, he thought too.
With Zoran amped up on cocaine, anything was possible and he might consider betraying Derek. In the years he had known Zoran, Derek would never have thought this was possible, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Zoran’s reference to Sonja was significant. Derek met Sonja through Zoran. Sonja was a nurse and worked in Luderitz at the local hospital there – she was looking after Zoran who had an infected barbed wire cut on his lower leg after chasing some thieves through the dense bush.
She, like Derek, was damaged goods. There was a past about her that took him a long time to break through – her lost farm, the murder of her parents and so on. It took Derek months to wear her down, to break through the tough solid brick façade she had built up so that she wouldn’t get hurt again. She had shut herself away, emotionally, and he felt compelled to break through that.
At first he thought it was simply lust, attraction, whatever... Her auburn hair, bright blue eyes, long, slender legs. She was the most beautiful creature Derek had ever laid eyes on. But the depth of the attraction, the way she changed him in the most wonderful of ways...that was something new, something special.
It took him some time to realize that this feeling was love. He’d never been in love with anyone before. He just couldn’t get her out of his head.
In his time in Namibia, Derek satisfied his needs with several of the married women around town – bored housewives or farmer’s wives who didn’t see their men for days on end. This was perfect for him – no responsibilities, no pressures. But he’d never had a “relationship” in his line of work, how could he?
Zoran detested her – he knew she was going to take Derek away from him. He knew that Derek’s love for Sonja would drive a wedge into their partnership. He was jilted, jealousy abounded. For years Zoran tolerated this, as best he could, abiding Sonja all the while knowing that Derek was drifting further away.
Derek knew Zoran was capable of anything – he feared for Sonja.
Then she wanted nothing to with Derek – it was over. After several years together, she said she needed time.
She said she needed space.
She said needed to review where she was heading.
Derek suspected that maybe Zoran had told her of the past that he and Derek had – of the skeletons in the closet. Nasty skeletons – war wounds that Derek never showed her. That would explain why she refused to even talk to Derek for the first few months he was away.
But time was a great healer – Derek had started to regain the one person in the world he couldn’t live without. He intended to go back to Namibia, repair whatever damage had been done, take over the mine…and execute his best friend.
Zoran was inhaling another line of coke as the guns were re-loaded for one more round of Russian Roulette. Derek stood next to him and saw beads of cold sweat rolling down Zoran’s chiselled features, his stiff spiky hair a forest of follicles surrounded by puddles of salty perspiration.
“Easy on that, tiger,” Derek said and Zoran looked at him sharply, his usually cold eyes drunk with the narcotic high.
“Is okay,” he stumbled out, “I will be fine.”
He was loading the revolvers with four bullets each, spinning the barrels dramatically as he finished each one. There were only four people left – chances were that number would be reduced greatly after this round.
The door swung open and another lifeless corpse was dragged through to the waiting van outside. It was almost full now and Derek was thinking that they would be lucky if they only have to make one trip to the factory. Zoran and his team would have a few hours of chopping and mincing to do tonight due to the extra body count.
“You’ve taken a lot of that shit,” Derek said, indicating the rapidly declining pile of cocaine on the table. “You’ll melt your nose entirely at that rate.”
Zoran swung around to face Derek and, for the first time he could ever recall, Derek thought Zoran was going to hit him. The chemical reaction to the cocaine in his head had made him bullet proof, irrational, uncontrollable.
In an instant he backed down, his gait relaxed minutely, his shoulders drooped as realized who it was he was shaping up to.
“As I said, is okay. I’m fine.”
Derek put a hand on his shoulder, not in a patronising nor admonishing gesture, but one of support and genuine affection. “Mate, I need you okay? I need you to be strong.” He looked Zoran square in the eyes but the cocaine-high made Derek invisible to Zoran. His eyes looked through him with a demonic 1000 yard stare that would chill most people to the bone.
He slid out from under Derek’s hand, took the four guns and opened the door to go back into the game.
From the doorway Derek watched the scene unfold.
Franklin sat with his head bowed, contemplating just when this nightmare would end. Carly and Stephen were talking again and, in any other setting, it would look like a romance was beginning to blossom there. Judith was quietly watching the crowd, watching Franklin, watching Stephen and Carly – and waiting for it all to end.
The Extreme Team went silent as Zoran entered with the guns.
“Next round, straight away!” He yelled and he virtually bounced around the room handing the guns out to people.
“Now just wait a moment,” started Stephen as Zoran dropped a gun in his lap. “Can’t you give us a bit more time?”
Carly looked forlornly at the weapon in her hand and, even behind this door, Derek could feel her dread. He could see that she did not want to aim it at anyone.
“You will do it!” Zoran yelled at Stephen as he handed a gun to Judith who accepted it with no fuss at all.
Stephen grabbed the gun from Carly’s hand – she offered very little resistance. He had one in each hand he brought them up level with his eye line, arms held out in front of him. He aimed both of them straight at Zoran.
The crowd was deadly silent and Zoran swung around to face Stephen – and the two loaded guns stared straight at him. Stephen’s black eyes of death stared into his psychotic, narcotic own. Even though the pistols weren’t fully loaded, the odds were not on Zoran’s side.
From his viewpoint, Derek could see that Stephen was about to kill Zoran.
The look in Stephen’s eyes told the tale – he had gone blank. The killing face that Derek know so well – it was present in the wheelchair bound would-be victim.
Zoran was too wired to notice. He is invincible! He’s had fully loaded guns, machine guns, pointed at him before and yet he was still here to tell the tale.
Derek knew that this is going through his mind right now:
“You can’t kill me! I am Zoran – I am invincible! I survived Yugoslavia, Rwanda, Afghanistan and Africa. I can’t be killed by a skinny
sick boy in a wheelchair. That is not how I die!”
Instead, he said: “Do not be…”
Stephen unloaded into Zoran, the occasional click of an empty chamber punctuated the BANG-BANG-BANG of eight bullets flying supersonically across several feet of space and into the chest of a Croatian nutcase.
The first couple of rounds rocked him, but Zoran tried to come forward to Stephen who had begun rolling backwards slowly with the recoil from the weapons. Then Zoran hit the floor as the last shell entered his body.
The only sound in the room was the constant clicking of the hammers of the guns hitting empty chambers as Stephen continued to squeeze the triggers. The crowd was silent/frozen, the other competitors were stunned/shocked.
Stephen dropped the guns to concrete floor; the crisp clatter sound of heavy metal on concrete broke the silence. Then there was a soft moan as Zoran tried to pick himself up.
Blood was streaming out from under him, the pitter-patter splatter resounded as the fluid hit the floor. As his strong arms start to push his body off the floor, a waterfall of blood fell from his torn chest, tendrils of life drained out of him. He was going to bleed to death.
Derek opened the doors and all eyes were now on him – waiting/expectant. He walked the short distance to the struggling and bleeding Zoran and took out his own 9mm pistol. Quickly he aimed it at the back of Zoran’s head as the dying man struggled to a crawling position, and pulled the trigger twice.
Zoran’s head exploded and the body – now a corpse – slapped to the floor with a squelch and a soft exhalation as his life was expelled.
Derek had put Zoran out of his misery
Derek had put Zoran out of everyone’s misery.
No more would he be a threat to anyone – including Sonja. He should have died on the battlefield, wielding an axe and causing bloody carnage only to be cut down by the hordes of some foreign land. He was born in the wrong century – a fierce warrior with his demons. Instead he was cut down by a skinny crippled guy and finished off by his best friend. His corpse would end up anonymous somewhere, eaten by animals in a yard or stuffed inside a container under a concrete slab.
Derek wanted to cry but he couldn’t in that room. Everyone looked at him and he said: “The game continues until there is one left. Next round starts in a few minutes. Guys”, he indicated to the guards, “please take his body and add it to the others.”
“It” – a few seconds ago this was a living and breathing human being, now Zoran’s an “it”, Derek thought.
He picked up the guns, loaded them with one bullet each and put one in the hands of each competitor. They were quiet, compliant. Their shock has rendered them malleable. He had seen this before – even the toughest people he know had been reduced to that of a zombie give the right amount of the right type of stress.
Some of these people actually want to die – it’s why they were here. Derek had a duty to complete this game, for one last time, before leaving and never again setting foot in his own country. He had no doubt that what had happened here tonight would get out – there were simply too many people who knew what was going on.
Derek’s resignation complete – finish the game, return to his adopted land. He had Sonja in his life now and that was all that mattered – redemption/salvation.
She would never know what he had done and the extent of his activities. The closest she will ever come to the truth will be whatever he used to explain his nightmares. Contrition/penitence.
The end of the road for Derek was there.
The stop sign was looming.