MELT: A Psychological Thriller (35 page)

Megan began cutting the legs off her jeans. 'Couldn't you help him?'

Chrissie shook her head. 'I can't even look at his kid. I'm his aunt and I can't even stand looking at him. He'll be a teenager soon.'

Megan sawed at the tough denim. 'Maybe your brother's happy.'

Chrissie knew that couldn’t be true.

'They fight constantly,’ she said. ‘They survive on welfare or beg our parents for loans they never pay back. She's screwed up his entire life.'

Chrissie barely understood her brother's fucked-up relationship. She ended the pointless conversation by eating the second date. When she'd finished both dates and used her tongue to dislodge every fiber from between her teeth, she decided to start with Megan's phone.

 ‘I need you to measure the ice again.’

Megan looked at Alex. ‘Alex has to pace it out.’

‘No he doesn’t. You two are the same height. We need to know how much time we have left.’

‘Okay.’

Megan stood and paced out the circumference of the remaining ice.

‘It’s twenty-eight paces,’ she reported back.

She started her phone’s algebra app.

She frowned over her phone. ‘Wait, I must have entered something wrong.’

‘Why? What does it say?’

‘It says we’ve lost seventy percent of the ice. It’s only been four days. Look at the size of it. We can’t have lost seventy percent.’

Chrissie studied the ice. It still looked imposing, but she remembered when it almost reached the ceiling. Also, the melt water now sounded like a torrent running down the drain.

‘Remember what Victoria said about it disappearing rapidly at the end?’

Megan didn’t hear. She was checking her numbers.

‘It keeps giving me the same answer,’ she said, sounding panicky. ‘How can that be right?’

‘Victoria’s math was better than yours,’ said Chrissie. ‘That’s how. Or you’re using that thing wrong.’

Megan sat beside Alex and stared at her phone.

Chrissie decided now was the right time.

'I want your phone, Megan.'

Megan looked up. 'Are you recording another message?'

'No. Maybe. I don't know. Just give it to me.'

Megan shrugged. 'Tell me when you decide.'

Chrissie rested the pistol on her knee, pointing it squarely at Megan's chest. 'I mean I'm
taking
your phone, Megan.'

Megan stared at the pistol. 'Are you serious? You're stealing my phone?'

'Give it to me.’

'You've had that gun for days. Why now?'

'Cut the act, Megan. Your team's been larger than mine from day one. I couldn't control you, Carl and Alex with just one pistol. But I can control you just fine.'

'Control me to do what?'

'Whatever I want.'

'Like a slave?'

Chrissie shrugged.

'And Alex?' asked Megan.

Chrissie smirked down at Alex. 'Two slaves are better than one.'

Megan looked bewildered.

No wonder her team are all dead,
thought Chrissie.
She didn't even see this coming. She's clueless.

Megan clasped her phone like a sacred religious artifact. 'I'll do whatever you want, Chrissie, but please let me keep my phone. It has my family photos on it. My whole life's on here.'

Megan looked pitiful, sitting there beside her broken friend, clasping her last link to home.

Chrissie sighed and lowered the pistol.

Megan sighed too, until she saw Chrissie press the pistol to Alex's forehead.

Chrissie counted down.

'Three...two...’

'NO — wait!' cried Megan, throwing the phone into Chrissie's lap. 'Take it! Take it!'

'Are you sure?' asked Chrissie.

'Please don't shoot him,' begged Megan. 'I'll do whatever you want.'

‘Give me your bag. Put both the icepicks in it. And the knife.’

Megan obeyed, handing Chrissie the bag.

Chrissie leaned against the wall and powered up the phone. 'Good girl. You've got work to do. Get started.'

'What work?' asked Megan.

‘Those bodies. They stink. Move them closer to the ice.’

‘By myself?’

‘Yes, you idiot, by yourself. I’m not going near that Chernobyl lock. Make sure it’s under the bodies.’

Megan got to her feet. ‘What if I get sick?’

Chrissie looked at Megan over the phone. ‘It’s better than getting shot. Ask Victoria if you don’t believe me.’

Megan looked down at Alex.

‘Get started already,’ barked Chrissie. ‘And after you move all the bodies, collect the artifacts from last night. If this junk can really save us, you better hurry up and figure it out.’

Megan obeyed, reluctantly.

Chrissie felt herself warming to the leadership role. Finally her natural skill set was in play.

Sweat ran down her arm.

And none too soon.

 

 

#

 

 

Chrissie scanned Megan's photos.

Her life looks as boring as bat shit. Nothing but sports and family. Swimming and hockey. It looks like her father was even her swim coach. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend.

Chrissie had already listened to everyone’s goodbye messages.

Lame.

Their messages were predictably pathetic.
I love you
and tell so-and-so that I love her and I'm sorry for this and that and blah, blah, blah
.

The regular bullshit.

She'd listened to Megan's message twice. Megan had explained the traps and artifacts, and her theory that avoiding the former and understanding the latter would unlock their means to escape.

She believed it wholeheartedly.

Good. I hope she keeps on believing it.

Because Chrissie had a different idea.

The seed of the idea was planted when Glen died.

Chrissie thought she knew how to escape.

And it was easy.

The last person alive wins.

All she had to do was outlive everyone else in the chamber, and then she’d win.

The contest would be over.

I’m sure this is a contest. A contest for survival. The survival of the fittest.

Chrissie could shoot Alex and Megan right now, but she liked to spread her bets.

She flicked back to a previous photo of Megan.

In the photo, Megan stood in a women’s hockey uniform before a cabinet filled with sporting trophies. Most of the trophies were from swimming competitions. The impressive collection obviously belonged to a young woman used to winning.

I mustn’t underestimate her. She could still be right about the artifacts.

If Megan was right, Chrissie still needed her. But either way, Chrissie had the upper hand.

'What's taking you so long?' shouted Chrissie.

Megan staggered around the ice, exhausted from shifting the rotting corpses. She started to answer, but someone else spoke first.

'We're still alive then.'

Alex sat up.

'Alex!' cried Megan, rushing to kneel and hug him. 'Thank God you're awake.'

That's right
, thought Chrissie, watching Megan embrace Alex.
Keep him under your spell.

'What happened?' Alex asked.

Megan glanced at Chrissie. 'Chrissie saved us.’

Chrissie nodded.
That's what I like to hear. Credit where it's due. Megan's starting to get with the program.

Alex glanced around. 'Is Victoria tied up? Someone should be watching her. She's psychotic!'

'She's not tied up,' said Megan. 'She's dead.'

Alex thought for a moment before pointing at Chrissie. 'You had a pistol, right? When I tackled Victoria I heard you shoot. I thought the bomb had exploded.'

Chrissie drew the pistol from her cargo pocket. 'Lucky I found this or we'd be ashes.'

‘It was Ericsson’s,' Megan explained.

Alex reached up and felt the belt encircling his head. 'Jesus — this belt isn't holding my brain in, is it? How many times did you shoot, Chrissie?'

'Just once.'

'It wasn't Chrissie,' said Megan. 'The wood fell on your head. How do you feel?'

'I’d rather have a headache than be dead.’

'Let me change your dressing,' said Megan.

'We thought you might be finished,' said Chrissie. ‘Brain dead.’

Megan shot Chrissie a nasty look. 'No, we didn't.'

Alex smiled awkwardly between the women. 'What's going on? You're both acting weird.'

Megan replied, 'Chrissie put the gun to your head and said that if I didn't give her my phone she would kill you.'

Chrissie watched Alex's reaction carefully.

His expression betrayed nothing. He sat quietly while Megan checked the wound, turned the thick dressing over and carefully replaced the belt.

When Megan finished, he looked up at Chrissie.

'Okay. Everything makes sense now. You're in charge. We do what you say. What's the plan?'

Chrissie smiled.

Alex knew how to land on his feet.

'I need you to open the jack-in-a-box, Alex.'

'But it might be trapped,' warned Megan.

'Or it might contain food,' countered Chrissie.

‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ declared Megan.

‘Yes, it does,’ said Alex. ‘We’re the guinea pigs. She’s going to sacrifice us to survive.’

'I've got Maddie depending on me,’ said Chrissie. ‘Neither of you have children. You can't understand. I don't have a choice.'

Alex lifted the jack-in-a-box. Megan's belt held the toy shut. He slipped off the belt.