Funhouse (14 page)

“
What have you done to her?”

Dillon laughed and set the open case on the floor.

“Nothing has happened to her. Why would I harm my own wife? She was led astray and has learned her lesson. She likes men like you, Mister Jackson. Down on their luck Americans with your chiselled features and your beach blonde hair. Oh I’m quite sure you made quite the impression. But Monique knows well enough that her place is here with me.”

He paused, and tilted his head.

“You didn’t think she would ever stay with you, did you, Mr Jackson?”

Brad's expression told him the answer, and Dillon burst into another bout of booming laughter.

“Don’t be fooled into thinking that you are in any way unique here. My wife’s adulterous ways are nothing unusual. You are, I believe the seventh during the ten years of our marriage. You are just another statistic.

Brad looked hurt, and Dillon lowered his voice, licking his wet lips as he spoke.

“She does it to get to me. To remind me that I need to show her more attention. I don’t like it of course, but she knows that all she has to do is screw some degenerate low-life like you, and she will be rewarded with attention and more money being spent on her.”

“
I don’t believe you. She wouldn't..."

“
Oh she would. Whilst we are here burning under this awful heat, she is in Monaco. I gave her the gold card, so I'm sure she is either at the apartment, or sitting on a boat in the harbour, sipping champagne and looking over her purchases. She has already forgotten you, Mr Jackson.”

“
So why can't you just let me go?”

“
I cannot be seen to be weak. Like it or not, you are solely responsible for everything that has happened.”

Brad blinked sweat out of his eyes and tried to ignore the stinging sensation on his skin as it was barraged by the sun.

“What if I refuse to play this game of yours?” He said, his voice coming out in a broken, cracked mumble.

“
Mr Jackson.” Dillon beamed. “Think about it. How long do you think you can balance there? Surely already your calves burn with the effort of standing.”

Brad said nothing, but Dillon was right. His legs
did
hurt, his muscles screaming at him to give them a little respite.

Brad grimaced. Dillon grinned.

“Alternatively, you can indulge in my game. A battle of mental fortitude, if you will.”

Brad shuffled; sure he could feel the start of an alarming numb ache of a cramp in his leg.

“It seems I have no choice.”

“
No, you really don’t...”

Dillon replied as he walked to the wall and took a piece of red chalk from his pocket. He started to draw a series of lines, speaking over his shoulder as he worked.

“When I was a boy, my father was often busy growing our business. As a consequence, much of my childhood was spent alone. We were rich of course, so it was far from a broken home. To combat the monotony, the other children and I, the ones who like me were neglected by parents who were working on securing our futures, would group together and play games. Cards, chess and the like. Things devised to pass the time.”

Dillon finished drawing on the wall, and then turned towards Brad and flashed a wide lion like grin.

“My favourite was Hangman, Mr Jackson. And it is that which we are about to play right now.”

Despite the heat, a cold shiver danced down Brad’s spine, and he licked his parched lips.

“It’s insane. I won’t do it.”

“
But I thought we had reached agreement? After all, it is just a simple word game. The stakes are as follows. If you correctly guess the clue, you leave here with the million dollars and your life, on the strict understanding that you leave the country immediately. If you lose, and the hangman is complete, I kick the ladder from under you and watch you die. Alternatively, if you refuse to participate, I will leave you out here until your strength wanes, after which you will pass out and die anyway. I see only one option, Mr Jackson.”

Brad didn’t want to play along. He knew how dangerous Dillon was, and that any agreement made was likely playing into his hands. But he very much wanted to live, and even if it was only guaranteed for the short term, he would take it.

“What choice do I have?" He said, locking eyes with Dillon.

“
Very good!” Dillon replied, clapping his hands together. “Take a moment to look over the clue, and we can begin before the heat becomes any more unbearable.”

Brad looked at the case full of money, then at Dillon and finally at the wall.

---/------/-------/---/-----

His instincts screamed at him not to play along, and that anything that Dillon said could not be trusted. However, he also acknowledged that the odds were against him, and even though he was reasonably fit and healthy, he was already starting to feel weak. He wondered how long it would take for the heat to affect his brain function, and realised that the sooner they began, the sharper he would be and ultimately, the more chance he would have of survival.

“Okay." Brad said as he glared at his captor.  “I’m ready.”

“
Marvellous! I’m sure you know how the game is played, but I shall confirm the rules so that there is absolute clarity. You will call out letters of the alphabet in order to try to fill in the blanks on the clue. A correct answer and I will place the letter on the wall. Incorrect, and I will begin to draw the hangman. If you guess enough correct letters, and you think you know the answer, you may tell me what you believe it to be. If you are incorrect, you forfeit the game. If you do not answer the clue before the hangman is complete, you forfeit the game. If you decide to withdraw, you forfeit the game. Are we in agreement?”

“
Just say it how it is, Dillon,” Brad grunted “by forfeit, you mean I’ll die.”

“
If you wish to be so to the point then, yes. That is true.” He said with a slimy grin. “But is that not all the more reason to ensure that you answer correctly?”

“
I suppose so. Let’s get this over with. I choose the letter A.”

Dillon grinned, walked to the wall and drew a single line.

“An incorrect answer I’m afraid.”

Brad’s heart rate increased, and he forced himself to focus through the sweat which was dripping into his eyes.

“E.” Brad said, trying to ignore the burning ferocity of the sun.

“
Well done. That is correct.” Dillon said curtly as he took the chalk and updated the clue.

--- / E----E / ------E / E-- / ----E

“Choose again.”

Brad licked his lips, knowing that whatever he said next would either lead him closer to either life or death. At first, he didn’t think he could bring himself to speak, but Dillon was watching and waiting, and so he forced himself to go on.

“N.”

Dillon’s smile faltered for a moment, and that alone felt like a huge victory to Brad. He watched as Dillon chalked in the letters, then stood back to allow Brad to see.

--N / E----E / --N---E / E-- / ----E

Brad studied the words, and now that he knew his voice would come, the temptation to blurt out any number of half-hearted guesses was strong, but he knew to do so would mean death. He would have just one chance to get it right, otherwise he would die.

“W.” he said quietly as he adjusted his position on the ladder.

Dillon walked to the wall and added a vertical line to the horizontal one that he had drawn
earlier.

“
Unlucky, Mr Jackson.”

Brad looked at the wall, fighting hard against the urge to panic, which was hard when he knew that his life hinged on a series of chalk lines on a wall.

“Choose again please.” Dillon prodded.

“
B.” He blurted, not really thinking about it.

Dillon drew air through his teeth, and shook his head as he amended the hangman dr
awing.

“
You should consider your guesses more carefully, Mr Jackson.”

Dillon was right. Brad squirmed, trying to ignore the burning pain in his legs, which were desperate for respite from the pressure of supporting his body.  Brad pushed the pain aside, and concentrated instead on staring at the clue as droplets of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose.

“O.”

Dillon updated the clue, then turned and grinned at Brad. “You see? It's so much better if you think. Are you ready to guess yet? Is the ticking clock of death loud enough for you?”

“I'm not ready to die.”

“
We shall see. Please, choose again.”

He looked at the clue, desperately trying to see if he could form any words, anything that might give him a chance to extend his life.

-ON / E-O--E / -ON---E / E-- / -O--E

             
“L”.

             
“Incorrect.” Dillon replied as he went to the wall and added to the hangman.

“Please,” Brad blurted, finally overcome by the terror that he had so far managed to hold back. “Just let me go. I've learned my lesson. I should never have done what I did, I know that now. It was a mistake.”

“
I understand. Really, I do.” Dillon said. Although his voice was sympathetic, his expression was predatory. “However, we are mid game now, and cannot stop.”

“
You can't expect to get away with this.” Brad hissed, for a moment losing his balance. Dillon watched, willing him to fall. When he saw that Brad was stable, he exhaled and shook his head.

“
Seven times, Mr Jackson, my wife has cheated on me. And seven times this game has been played in this very yard. Four of the seven correctly guessed the clue, and won both their money and freedom. Of the others, two ran out of moves and suffered the consequences. The third had a heart attack right there on the ladder, just when it looked like he might win. You see, the odds are in your favour, as long as you remain calm and think clearly. Now please, choose a letter.”