14 NO AIR
14
NO AIR
– AMY –
I open my eyes, but it ’ s pitch-black .
I see nothing . Hear nothing . There ’ s no light . No noise . Other than my heartbeat thrumming against my ribcage .
‘ Hello? ’
I ’ m lying down . On my back . There ’ s no breeze . No air .
My head pulses with a cocktail of adrenaline and fatigue . I want to sleep . Have I been asleep?
I ’ m thirsty . So thirsty . I move my tongue against my lips to wet them .
There ’ s something covering my face – a coarse material, some sort of bag . I can feel it against my ears, the top of my head, bunched up around my shoulders .
Panic floods into my every pore . Where am I?
I turn my head slightly and feel something hard behind it . I try to lift my foot, but it ’ s stuck .
There ’ s something around my ankles .
I try to raise my arms, but they remain fixed by my side . As I twist my wrists, I feel leather against my skin .
Straps . I ’ m strapped down .
‘ Hello? ’ I try again . My voice sounds hoarse and thin, muffled by the bag .
No response . Nothing . My body is shuddering . It ’ s so cold .
I can smell something strange . Copper . Or iron . Or … blood . Panic lurches in my chest .
Move, Amy . You need to go . Now .
I fight against the straps around my wrists and ankles, tears and dribble now covering my cheeks and chin . But it ’ s no use .
I hear a noise . A door latch .
My stomach drops . My body goes rigid .
The door creaks, slowly opening .
I feel the presence of someone . I want to scream, but my voice is stolen from me . Who are you? What is this? I want to say, but the words won ’ t come . Fear has me in a chokehold .
Heavy footsteps move towards me .
Please don’t hurt me. Say it, Amy . Scream it .
I can ’ t .
Another noise . The strike of a match . I strain against the straps again as the sting of sulphur hits the back of my throat .
More footsteps . Careful and precise, circling me . They ’ re close now . Too close . Right here .
‘ Please …’ I manage . My voice trembles . ‘ Just let me go … I ’ ll do anything if you just let me go .’ No reply . ‘ Please …’
I can hear their breath .
And … Then …
Fingers on the material, pulling the bag off my head .
The first thing I see are the hooks hanging from the dark beams above me . And then the tools . A hand saw . A cleaver knife . A hammer .
‘ Hello, Amy .’
A man stands over me . Tiny, shining black eyes like beetles, staring . A beard . A checked shirt . A dirty face .
He ’ s smiling .
‘ What is this? ’ I breathe .
‘ I ’ m here to help you .’ He turns away .
I look down the length of my body to see I ’ m not on the floor . I ’ m on a table . A wooden table .
Oh my God .
‘ Please! Please … Tell me what— ’
‘ Try not to struggle .’ His voice is calm . Steady . It makes me feel sick .
I watch as he reaches his hand up and takes hold of the hammer .
Move, Amy .
I turn my head to see my hand is strapped down by a belt .
I wriggle it, twisting until I can feel a slight movement . A gap . My hand slips down, looser now .
He turns back . I go still .
‘ What do you want? ’ I say . Calm, like him .
‘ Like I said ,’ he whispers . ‘ I am here to help . You shouldn ’ t be jogging in the woods alone, Amy . Has no one ever told you there are bad people out there? ’ There ’ s something in his eyes . Compassion . But it ’ s not real . He ’ s enjoying this . ‘ You need to learn .’
I look at my feet, bound tight . ‘ What are you going to do to me? ’
He steps towards the table, the hammer in his hand . ‘ I just want to teach you about bad people, Amy .’
He pauses, looking at me with his beetle eyes .
Then, suddenly—
Smash. He slams the hammer down on the table next to my head .
‘ Stop! ’ I yell .
Smash.
Again, he smashes it down .
Smash. Smash.
He moves around me, slamming it into the wood . Over and over . The vibrations shuddering up through my body .
Smash. Smash. Smash. Closer and closer .
‘ Stop! Please don ’ t hurt me .’
He stops and looks up at the ceiling . ‘ Time for something else, don ’ t you think? ’
I pull my hand and it slips free from the belt . The table creaks .
As he looks back down, I throw my fist at him with all my might . It lands squarely in the side of his neck .
He chokes . Splutters . Stumbles backwards .
I pull at the buckle binding my other hand, freeing it . I sit up, blood surging to my head, threatening to make me pass out .
I grab for the belt around my legs, fumbling with the buckle . It ’ s tight . Too tight .
Come on . Come on .
I tug at it, digging in with my fingernails until they feel like they might break off .
Come on . Please .
And then, his voice . Right next to me once more .
‘ Bad decision, Amy . Very bad .’
Before I can scream, the hammer smashes into my shin .
TIME ENDED
I yank the headset off. What the—?
I’m on the floor – sprawled on the floor – my chest heaving, my body alive with adrenaline. A pressure pounds against my temple, blood drumming at the veins in my neck. Ow, my nails. My fingernails. As I raise them to my eyes, I see they’re cracked and bloody.
I look down. There are scratch marks on the concrete floor.
Did I do that?
Amy … What happened to her? What happened to Amy? It was like I could hear her thoughts.
‘Is she OK?’ I hear myself rasp, not entirely sure who I’m asking. My voice bounces off the brick. There’s no reply.
I stand and regain my bearings. The single light bulb. The door, still shut. The vault outside. I feel as if I’ve been a million miles away. Three minutes. That was only three minutes . But I felt so different, so far removed from this. From myself. I was in her thoughts, her feelings, her entire life.
I could hear her thoughts. Actually hear them. Not a commentary – more subconscious. It was like I was her.
And I do … feel. Something inside me is fluttering. It hurts – not a physical pain, but something else. I’m worried . About Amy.
Yes. Yes . Worry . I remember it. Like I’m balancing on a cliff edge and could fall at any second.
Who was that man?
‘Hello?’ I shout. No answer.
I pace around the room, back and forth, back and forth, trying to order my racing thoughts. The remnants of Amy’s panic, her terror, fuelling them. What happens now? Who was she? What happened to her leg? What is this place?
Slow down.
‘Let me out!’ I yell.
Again, nothing. I’m still locked in.
I begin banging on the door, her story looping in my mind, over and over.
There’s a loud clunk. I flinch. The hammer.
But it’s not the hammer.
The door swings open and I stagger out of the cell to see the others piling back into the vault. Some are crying. Some are retching. Others are crawling on their hands and knees, trying to catch their breath.
The strobe lights blaze – dark light, dark light – as bright as the glare from a machine gun. The trance music thuds into us like bullets.
The digits on the wall suddenly light up. They begin to tick backwards again.
04:00… 03:59… 03:58…
Oh my God .
‘Bloody hell,’ wheezes a girl as she stumbles out of a room called FIRE. She’s weeping. Weeping . She turns to me, eyes puffy and red. ‘Oh, fucking hell,’ she whispers through shallow sobs. ‘That one is crazy . You need to try it.’
My brain is buzzing. I feel…
It’s awful to admit it, but I definitely feel… Awake. Alive .
I look for Nisha. Not at the bar. Where are you?
I scan my eyes around the vault, searching, then see her between the doors CHEAT and BULLY. She’s holding something in her hands. A mop and bucket. She locks eyes with me, tilting her head. Get what you wanted? I start walking towards her, to tell her yes , yes I did , but also what the—?
She begins to move away and I pick up my pace, legs trembling as I push through the crowd. When I reach her, I take her arm. ‘Nisha. What the hell is this place?’
She spins round. ‘Don’t ask me about the stories. I don’t know anything about them. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you how they end. So don’t—’
‘Just … tell me. Who are those people?’ I say. ‘Who are the people in the stories?’
She tries to pull away, but I don’t let go. ‘I’m not allowed to discuss them.’
‘Nisha, please. I just want to know she’s OK.’
She sighs, then lowers her voice. ‘Listen, I’m not meant to … break the illusion , but I really need you to let go of me.’ She pauses. ‘They’re actors.’
‘Holy shit.’ I almost laugh. ‘But it was so real .’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘I could hear her thoughts. It was like I was thinking them…’
‘That’s the sensory pads. I hear it’s amazing.’
‘It’s mental. It’s completely…’ What I want to say is that it’s completely genius and incredible – like a found-footage horror film mixed with a trauma-porn slasher. Only it’s better, because you’re actually living it through their eyes. The camerawork is unbelievable and the actors are phenomenal – even the slight distortion in the voices makes it feel more intense. I could understand Amy’s fear like she was whispering it into my brain.
Instead, I say, ‘Very cool.’ I can feel myself smiling. ‘How many do we get to watch?’
She gives a shrug. ‘As many as you want. Until your money runs out.’ Her eyes move to the digits.
01:45… 01:44… 01:43…
‘Now I need to—’
‘Wait!’ I keep hold of her arm. ‘Have you…?’
She sighs. ‘Have I what ?’
‘Have you watched them?’
‘Why would I watch them?’
‘I dunno. To experience it?’
‘No. I’ve not. Now—’
‘You don’t know what happened to the girl in HAMMER Amy?’
‘I don’t know what happens in any of them. You can go back and find out. Now let me do my job.’
‘You should—’
Before I can finish, her mohawked colleague from the bar appears. ‘Everything OK?’ he says, eyeing me cautiously. I notice he’s holding a first-aid kit. His name badge reads AJAX.
I drop Nisha’s arm. ‘Sorry. Yeah, I just—’
‘It’s fine.’ She cuts me off. ‘Same as always. Wants to know the end of the story.’
He looks me up and down. ‘You have to pay for that. If you go back to the same door, you’ll have to watch from the beginning. Understand?’ I nod. OK, boss. Actually, where is Boss? Ajax turns to Nisha. Or Violet. Whatever her name is. ‘Vomiter in CRASH, fainter in AXE.’ She nods and then they disappear in opposite directions.
I turn back into the room. The air is thick with adrenaline, charged, volatile and sharp. There’s a shriek and I see a topless man howling up at the ceiling like a wolf, beating his chest with his fists. Next to him, two girls grip each other’s hands, spinning in circles – laughing or crying, I’m not sure – like children in a playground.
00:37… 00:36… 00:35…
I nearly laugh. But not because this is funny. It isn’t. What it is, is insane . This place is completely insane.
And it seems to be … working. I need more. I need more of it .
I look back at my door, HAMMER. A man is loitering outside, waiting for the countdown to finish. Damn it.
But also, I want… Look, don’t hate me. I want to try a different one .
00:14… 00:13… 00:12…
‘Did you get a good one?’ Roadkill Man suddenly appears next to me, eyes wide like he’s high. High on pain. On trauma.
‘Um… Yeah, yeah I did…’
He puts his hand on my arm. ‘You feel it?’
I’m about to ask feel what? But I know what he means. Feel what they felt .
‘I did.’
‘Feels good , right?’
Maybe we should define good . But for me, in my current situation… ‘Yeah. It really does.’
The music stops. The lights cut out. The voice bellows from the ceiling. ‘ It is time to choose your next story .’
Another story.
I can’t help but feel … excitement . I ’ m excited .
Whoa. I’d forgotten it. What a thing to forget. I feel utterly invigorated. I feel life happening inside me for the first time since the crash. Life .
Tears sting my eyes.
The crowd disperses, people fighting to get to the doors. I scan the room and find the door the weeping girl stumbled out of. That one is crazy . You need to try it .
FIRE.
There’s no one in front of it. My feet carry me there. I press the button like I’m on autopilot.
Three minutes again. Just another taster. That’s all. That’s all I need.
Then the door opens and I’m inside.
It’s exactly the same as the last room. I pull on the headset. Take a deep breath. Here we go.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN FIRE. YOU ARE NOW BELLA. HELLO, BELLA. YOUR STORY WILL START IN 3… 2… 1…
And, just like before, in an instant, reality is no longer mine.