MELT: A Psychological Thriller (19 page)

'He's a filthy criminal,' said Victoria. 'We should—’

Tsk...tsk...tsk...

Chrissie scanned everyone's hands. 'Where's your icepick, Megan?'

Megan slapped her pockets. 'I put it down.'

'You idiot!' hissed Chrissie. 'Now he's got a weapon. Listen to him. He's taunting us. He's threatening us!'

'Maybe he's just keeping warm,' said Alex.

'Or digging for food,' added Glen.

'He can't have a weapon,' insisted Victoria. 'That's insane.'

Everyone agreed with that.

Chrissie pointed at Glen and Alex. 'You two go and take the icepick from him.'

'Why us?' asked Alex.

Chrissie shot back, 'Because you've got the only real knife. Or do you only carry it around to look tough?'

Megan shook her head, but Alex spoke first.

'Seriously?' asked Alex. 'You want us to fight Carl for half of Victoria's old garden shears?'

'Just threaten him,' said Victoria.

'Pffft,' Alex laughed at Chrissie, offering her his knife. 'You're an idiot, lady. You go and threaten him with my knife if you think that's clever.'

Glen turned and walked off. He was cold and hungry and tired of all this bullshit. He dropped his icepick into his pocket.

Carl stopped working when Glen approached.

'Finished your little pow-wow?' Carl asked.

Glen said, 'Chrissie wants Alex and I to take that icepick from you.'

Carl stepped closer. 'Take it from me? Really?'

Glen nodded, noticing that Carl had stepped closer. Carl could jerk his muscular arm up in one motion and jam the pick straight into Glen's stomach.

Carl had a very strange expression on his face.

I hope this isn't his killing face
, thought Glen.
He's got no reason to hurt me
. I’ve saved his life – twice!

'What if I want to keep digging?' asked Carl.

'No one will try to stop you, but whatever progress we've made as a team will be lost. You'll keep digging, and we’ll all be scared of you.’

Carl dropped the pick into Glen's robe pocket.

'Guess I'm on ice duty again then.'

Chapter Thirteen

 

Glen wiped clean his latest find.

Not food.

Not a bottle.

Not even some strange artifact from God knew where.

He’d found a
Rubik’s cube.

He tried an experimental twist.
It’s frozen solid.
He dropped the cube into his pocket to show Megan later. Right now everyone seemed too preoccupied by Carl.

Everyone except Glen.

Before the bottle, Glen found Carl's presence reassuring. The problem was that Glen
still
felt that way.

Is that wrong of me? Why do I feel this way?

The ugly answer surfaced.

Because we're the same. We're both scum.

Glen just hid it better.

He’d had a lot of practice.

Whoever dies with the most toys wins.

Glen never forgot the man driving the Porsche. Since then, he’d searched for ways to make his fortune.

Finally t
he answer found him. It chased him across the internet. It popped up hourly on his computer screen like a viral infection, bouncing bright colors off his retinas, offering free credit for the next thirty seconds!

Online gambling.

Like online computer games, but with money.

It made perfect sense. Glen excelled at computer games. He'd played his entire life. He'd eventually beaten every computer game he'd ever started.

The secret was persistence.

After a month, Glen wished he'd started ten years earlier. In two months he was earning more from online gambling than from his regular job.

Much more.

First he purchased a luxury watch. He'd worn the same cheap digital Casio for seven years. He upgraded to an IWC Aquatimer just because he liked the look of it. The size of it. The price of it. The man driving the Porsche would wear an IWC.

His collection of credit cards became astounding, each a fresh opportunity to recoup losses. He didn't mind losing. He barely noticed. He wasn't reaching into his pocket or opening his wallet for real money. Even when he started
rapidly
going backward, Glen still enjoyed himself. Like every other computer game, he'd win in the end.

But online gambling wasn’t a game.

Calling online gambling a computer game was like calling World War Two a schoolboy scuffle.

You couldn't save your progress. You couldn't change your avatar. You couldn't reset and start again.

Everything was permanent.

When your credit ran out, the system just spat you back into the real world.

No more plastic cards arrived in Glen's mail. Just demanding letters. Then demanding phone calls. Then demanding people.

Ding-dong
, money please.

Then things got really serious.

Glen's father had advanced asbestosis. He required expensive full-time hospital care. His insurance only covered the first six months. After that, Glen was in charge of selling their family home to pay the hospital bills.

Glen sold the family home to pay his debts.

Just like that.

Bang. Done.

No extended hospital care for his father. No home for his sister to finish high school.

No more debts.

Glen's father died three days after hearing what Glen had done.

'You killed him!' his sister had screamed over the phone from her boyfriend's house.

She hadn’t even looked at him at their father’s funeral.

Glen doubted she'd ever speak to him again.

And she was right.

Glen had killed his father. He hadn't shot him with a gun, but he may as well have.

And now Glen was trapped in here. Trapped in a chamber with people like himself.

Bad people.

All of them.

He knew that now. Carl's message in the bottle confirmed it. Glen knew what they all had in common. He knew why they were all here.

They were all being punished.

 

 

#

 

 

Glen watched Alex working the ice.

Should I tell Alex I think we’re being punished?

He remembered Alex's mutilated leg. When they stripped to make the rope, the ghastly mess of scar tissue shocked everyone. Alex hadn't explained the barely healed injuries. No one had mentioned it again.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But Glen hadn't forgotten. Glen trusted Alex. In fact, Alex was the closest thing he’d made to a real friend in a long time.

Alex and Megan.

This is going to be tricky. Perhaps I can show him the Rubik’s cube to get things started.

Glen pulled the cube halfway from his robe, took a step toward Alex, but then changed his mind.

That won't work. That's just lame.

'What?' asked Alex.

'Huh?' said Glen.

'You're staring at me,' said Alex. 'What's in your pocket? Did you find something?'

'Yeah,' said Glen. 'I'll show you in a second. I just had a question.'

Alex stood back as Carl and Megan gathered his ice chips into Megan’s bag. When they left, Alex prompted, 'Well?'

'It was smart how you used your hood,' said Glen.

Alex looked confused. 'That's not a question.'

'I know but, with the smoke, the way you zipped shut your hood and held your breath. You didn't panic. You just made a choice and stuck with it.'

Alex studied Glen for a moment and then shrugged. 'I didn't think of the drain. That was the best idea.'

'Maybe,' said Glen. 'But you acted level-headed for a teenager.'

Alex tapped his knife on the ice. 'I was just hiding like a kid under a blanket. No strategy involved, I'm afraid.'

'Bullshit,' said Glen. 'I know you're smarter than you act.’

Alex raised an eyebrow. 'What's your question, Glen? I’m really frigging cold.'

'Why do you carry a knife?'

'Ice sculpting,' joked Alex. 'It's my new hobby.'

Glen expected a deflective answer. A joke. At this point the others dismissed Alex from any serious conversation, but Glen wouldn't make that mistake any more.

Glen pointed. 'I think it's because of your leg. That knife looks about as old as your wounds.'

Alex shrugged. 'Lots of people carry pocket knives.'

'Yeah, and they all have reasons. What's your reason?'

Alex twisted the knife tip into the ice. 'We'll all find out soon enough.'

'How?'

Alex nodded to where ice spirals fell from his knife tip. 'Someone knows all our secrets. They buried them in this ice. Then they locked us in here with them. Everyone’s dark secret is going to be revealed.’

Dark secrets?

'Like Carl's bottle?' tested Glen.

'Yep.'

One of us has to admit it first,
thought Glen.
It might as well be me.

'I did something terrible,’ said Glen. ‘That's why I'm here. 'I'm being punished. What about you?’

Alex looked around for the others.

It was all clear.

He nodded.

After a few moments he added, 'I'm the same.'

I knew it
, thought Glen.

'Do you know what you did?'

'Of course I do. And don't ask me what it was.'

'Was it worse than what Carl did?'

Alex looked down. 'In a way. But I don't understand how they
know about it. I've never told anyone. What about you?'

'I...um, yeah,' stuttered Glen. 'My family knows. Anyone could find out.'

Alex waved around the ice. 'And Megan? Megan deserves this? The others?'

Glen shrugged. 'Should we ask them?'

'Pffft,' said Alex. 'Chrissie and Victoria? That's just giving them more ammunition to fire at us.'

'Just Megan then?' asked Glen

'No,' Alex shot back instantly. 'Not her.'

Glen felt the same way. He didn’t want Megan to know what he’d done.

'We could tell Carl,' suggested Alex. 'Do you trust him?'

Glen nodded. 'That's what got me thinking about this. I think I trust him more than I trust myself.'

 

 

#

 

 

'Why is Chrissie digging so fast?' asked Glen.

'Food,’ whispered Alex. ‘Have you heard her stomach? Sounds like the lions ate the lion tamer in there.'

'She's not the only one,' Glen confessed. 'That ballbag is looking more like a pizza every minute.'

Chrissie backed from the ice, puffing from exertion. 'I've found something. My hands are hurting too much. Can one of you finish getting it out?'

Alex and Glen exchanged looks.

'Sure,' replied Alex. 'Just let me—’

CRAAAAAACK!

Everything happened so quickly, Glen felt like a spectator.

The ice beside Glen collapsed.

Chunks of ice the size of car batteries tumbled straight toward his legs.

Alex shoved Glen away.

Glen fell clear.

Alex almost jumped clear of the ice fall, but couldn't move fast enough with his barely healed leg.

SMASH!

A huge ice wedge pulverized Alex’s left foot.

Glen imagined the small bones disintegrating like a canary under a car wheel.

The ice wedge exploded on impact, shattering into a hundred skittering offspring.