Page 64 of The Player
“And then today turns into tomorrow, and the next day, and if we keep avoiding it, it’ll fester and grow, spreading like a virus that’s infected us. That’s not the way to deal with this, Bee.”
“I know that,” I snapped back a little too quickly, and instantly, I regretted it. “But I won’t let it go that far. I promise.”
He nodded, silent in his acceptance of my avoidance.
“Fine. I won’t tell them the truth for a few more days. But that doesn’t mean I won’t go looking today.”
Panic gripped me.
“You can’t go by yourself. I don’t want you to do that. It’s too dangerous. What if he takes you again?”
“I won’t be by myself. I’ll find a way to get the others on board without giving too much away. I’m good at twisting a story to fit my narrative.”
I’d heard him, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“It’s not safe, Will, however you twist it. You can’t lead them into something when they don’t have the full facts. Anything could happen.”
“I’m well aware of that.” He exhaled in exasperation. “Just trust me.”
He kissed the top of my head and stepped back, his arms falling to his sides.
“I always trust you,” I told him, and then, letting out a deep breath, I added, “I’ll stay here. I’ll lock the door behind you and when you’ve done whatever it is you need to do, come home. Please. I won’t rest until you’re back here.”
“I know you won’t.” He gave me one last peck on my forehead and then headed for the door. “And I won’t rest until I’m back here with you.”
He opened the door to leave, and I stood in the doorway, watching him walk away down the corridor. He wasn’t happy though, and he spun around, calling out, “I want to hear that door lock. I won’t leave until I do.”
I smiled and did as he asked. After all, it was the least I could do after he’d done so much for me.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
THE TASKMASTER
Isauntered into the basement, taking my time as I scanned the area, appreciating it like it was the first time I was seeing it. The upside-down crosses painted on the wall added a certain flair to this room. The scratches and marks told a tale I’d enjoy listening to time and again. The aura of the place was one of macabre pleasure. It was perfect and I felt at home here.
My players had been lucky that I hadn’t separated them. I’d allowed them to stay in here together. But now, the mattress they’d slept on, cried on, bonded on, it was gone. What replaced it was a semi-circle of chairs, each with one of my guests seated there, ready to greet me.
“Gentlemen,” I announced, my arms rising as I gestured around the room. “I’m so glad you could join me here today.”
I glanced from one putrid, puffy, grotesquely disfigured face to the next, slumped in front of me in their seats. I couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that they couldn’t respond.
The room was sour and pungent from the acrid filthy stench each of my guests were emitting. A stench that hung in the air like an unwelcome visitor. One I’d be all too happy to dispose of. It was a good job I’d worn my Ghost mask today; the skull faceplate helped me breathe a little easier. Not that I needed a mask to hide myself. It didn’t matter if they saw my face. They couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t taste or touch or do anything.
How could they?
They were all dead.
“It’s nice to see some of you made it here in one piece.” Turning to face the hangman, I added, “Apart from you, Fraser.” I grimaced, my eyes trailing over the pile of body parts crammed onto the chair, his head perched neatly on the top. “But you have to admit, your ending was a fitting one. You broke me and countless others. And now, you’re the one who’ll spend eternity broken beyond repair.” I cracked my neck from side to side, stretching out the tension I felt. “I might go one step further and scatter you in different places. Rest in pieces.”
I laughed and stood back to admire my work.
“It’s been a job well done. They really rose to the challenge.” I looked at Mario, who didn’t quite get the death by a thousand cuts ending that I’d envisioned for him. “Apart from you, Mario. They fucked your chapter up, but then, I guess nothing is perfect. However, the story isn’t finished, so there’s still time to make amends.”
I strolled over to the table in the corner of the room. Scanning the tools piled up there, I chose a meat cleaver and picked it up, twisting it in the air as I headed to the first chair.
“Phase one is complete. Now it’s time to move to phase two, and you men”—I pointed the cleaver at each one of them—“still need to play your part.”
I lifted the meat cleaver up and slammed it down as hard as I could on Wilson’s rotting flesh. The blade lodged into his bone, but I yanked it out, slamming it back down again.
