THE SICK SECTION
Inspired by a film called 'OldBoy', and it's theme 'The Last Waltz'.
He stood, gazing into the dirty mirror. Looking back at him was a man in his late thirties with dark, messy hair, some stubble and a face that made him look more depressed and angry than any other human in the world. This was how he looked when he was tired. His name was Graham Terry, an accountant who was recently fired and forced to scrounge for jobs. The thought of looking for work becoming a full-time job made him laugh, as irony often did. But he was bored, and tired with his life. He realised that he had been working in a boring bank most of his adult life. He worked, went home, ate, slept, got up, and then started the cycle again. On and on it went for twenty-two years. He was looking for something, excitement perhaps. Anything that would change his life a little, if only for a short time.
He would find that excitement.
Graham moved into his small living room made up of a small T.V., a couch, and a table tucked into the corner with a computer sitting on it. He moved over the takeaway meal boxes and empty cans of beer and sat before the computer which had already been running for a few hours now. He had been browsing the internet, looking for god knows what. He had come across a small site filled with funny videos but that too was becoming boring, at least that was, until he saw something:
'THE SICK SECTION... PSYCHOS ONLY!'
His curiosity was aroused. What exactly could it mean? What viral wonders were beyond that little green hyper-link? He clicked. Nothing happened. So he clicked again, and a third time before sighing and realising that it must lead nowhere. Just as he was about to turn his attention elsewhere a box flashed up reading:
'WELCOME STRANGER. NEW HERE? SIGN UP.'
And after that was a small form asking for a desired user name, a password and his email. So he filled it in and decided to go with the alias 'surfking101'. A little goofy, but he figured it might give someone a smirk. Within seconds of him clicking 'done', the box was gone and the page turned black. A small image of a goat's head appeared and soon vanished again, leaving the black page for a few moments longer. Graham was already excited at what may come, he also suspected it may be a site intended to simply scare people by making them wait in quiet anticipation before screaming at them and flashing a silly image from a cheap horror movie. But that didn't happen. A video began to play instead.
Graham could see a basic room. White walls, dark floorboards and a steel chair in the center. It appeared to be some sort of live feed but nothing would happen. He would have been convinced that it was a still image if a fly hadn't been floating around the room for the past three minutes, bobbing against the camera's lens every few minutes.
"What is this bull shi--" His quiet word's were interrupted by the wooden door to the room swinging wide open. A man dressed in all black wearing a balaclava dragged a limp old man into the room and placed him on the chair. The stranger left the room and closed the door. Graham's eyes were fixed on the old man who appeared to be knocked out cold. He wore a black suit, a dark tie and a white shirt. He had Grey hair that was starting to receed and his face was covered in wrinkles. For a moment he appeared to be just a simple old man, until a little light bulb flicked into bright light in Graham's head. He knew who the old man was. It was a mayor from some town in Texas - Bumsville for all Graham could care - Mayor Rhinehart, was his name. He had vanished more than a week ago and his disappearance had caused the media to spark into a crazed frenzy. Perhaps it was a look alike. Graham couldn't tell. But he was interested. He desperately wanted to know what would happen next.
The man with the balaclava burst back into the room holding what looked like a bear trap. He set it down on the floor about three feet in front of Rhinehart and prised the rusted jaws apart. The bear trap was now armed and the mayor was beginning to wake. The man in the balaclava seemed a little startled and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him. There was a strange click from Graham's speakers, and then a quiet hiss. Audio had begun streaming along with the video.
"What the hell is goin' on..." Graham whispered before looking the big red' X' and clicking it. The window didn't close. The video kept on rolling as the mayor began to open his eyes and stand, shaking a little.
White words appeared below the video:
'DON'T WORRY. THE FIRST TIME IS THE HARDEST.'
Graham pressed the 'X' again, "Close, dammit!" he spat at the screen
'DON'T WORRY. YOU'LL LIKE THIS. WE PROMISE.'
He was clicking frantically and stopped when he heard something. A loud scream of agony. A male's scream. He looked and saw that Rhinehart had stumbled into the bear trap and was clutching his leg whilst wincing, desperately looking around the room and begging for help.
"Jesus Christ!" shouted Graham. Rhinehart fell to the right and writhed in pain. His foot was still attached but only by a few strands of thick, maroon tissue. The sight made Graham feel sick, and the sounds of the man's crying and begging only made it worse.
"Please! Please! Help me! Someone!" Shouted the Mayor in a trembling and weak voice as his face became lined with thick tears, "Goddamnit! someone!"
The door swung open again, "Oh thank god.. please.. help me!" Pleaded Rhinehart as the man in the balaclava dragged him onto the chair again leaving a large red smear on the floor that was visible even with that poor video quality.
The man grabbed Rhinehart and lifted the trouser leg to check the injury. He saw a small bit of bone sticking out and began to pull on it. His victim's eyes shot open as wide as his mouth, he blared a cry of intense pain.
The man in the balaclava stood and looked square into the camera. He raised a hand and slowly waved at it. A chill ran down Graham's spine. The video paused, and then vanished. The picture of the goat's head came and went as it did before followed quickly by large white lettering :
'COURTESY OF BUTCHER.
HE HOPES TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME WHEN HE FINISHES OFF HIS NEWEST VICTIM. IF YOU WISH TO LEAVE... PLEASE CLOSE THIS WINDOW IN THREE SECONDS.'
3.
2.
1.
2.
1.
'THANK YOU FOR STAYING. YOU HAVE BEEN BILLED $320 USD. COME BACK IN ONE HOUR.'
A clock began counting down to the next hour. Graham didn't know what to do. How had they billed him if he didn't give any credit card details... Something was very wrong. On instinct he turned and ran to his front door. To the side of it sat his wall mounted phone, he picked up and dialed for the police.
He waited.
He waited still and was met with a strange voice that hissed like a reptilian being. "If you call the police. You'll end up just like the old man."
"Who are you people!?" Graham asked, trembling.
"The butcher, the goat, and the abattoir." The voice laughed.
" How are you doing this?... How did you know I was using the phone?"
"You're not very secure with your pc, Graham. We've accessed your bank account, we've bugged your phone, just in case..."
"I don't want this. This is sick."
"We gave you a chance. Three seconds to be exact. You didn't act. All of our members enjoy this service. In time, you will as well."
Graham hung up. He began pacing in his room. He was sweating and breathing heavily, his heart was like a bull trapped in a cage twenty times too small and he had no idea what to do. He couldn't call the police.. If he ran they would probably find him. They took his money just like that and he sure as hell didn't want to be their next 'victim'.
A beeping came from the computer and a little white window popped up. An instant messenger, and someone was trying to talk. Graham sat down at the computer and read blue writing saying simply 'Hello... new to the scene?'.
He had no idea how to reply. He simply typed, 'yes. Who r u?'
The reply came a few minutes later. 'Franklin. A long time viewer. Looks like the clock has been cut down. We only have to wait a few more seconds.'
Graham checked, and the person was right. The clock had skipped down to ten seconds.
five...
four...
three...
two...
one...
four...
three...
two...
one...
There sat the mayor, bleeding to death and covered in tears. He was gagged with a white cloth. The bear trap and the blood had been cleaned away. At the corner of the video was a small countdown. It was counting down seconds and was nearly at zero.
Franklin sent another message: 'This will b great! Butcher never lets us down! Just wait noobie. Youll see.'
two.. Grahams heart couldn't race any faster.
one... His stomach felt as if it was just about read to empty itself.
BOOM The Mayor's head vanished in a cloud of crimson. Thick, goo and blood sprayed all over the room. Bits of bone and bits of brain littered the area and stuck slowly raced down the wall towards the floor. In walked the butcher. Who again, simply waved.
Graham turned and ran to the bathroom. He was more than a little queasy. Luckily he made it on time and managed to fire his vomit into the toilet without missing. He fell onto the floor, weak and pale. He heard a familiar beep. Another message.It took him a few moments but he managed to stand again, though he was still shaking a little.
'Looks like our latest victim has a weak stomach, eh noobie?'
Graham's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't mean...? Surely not. Graham flicked over onto the video screen and saw a room exactly as his with a man standing at his computer who was dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and some pants. A shadow appeared behind the man.
"oh god.." He whispered as he closed his eyes, taking in quick, sharp, and cold breaths.
Everything went black.
