MELT: A Psychological Thriller (18 page)

'It's beautiful,' he said, stepping back. 'It must be fun to drive.'

'It is,' the man said over the Porsche. 'But that's not why I bought it.'

'Why then?' asked Glen.

The man's answer changed Glen's life.

He met Glen’s eyes and said, 'Because whoever dies with the most toys wins.'

Glen barely noticed the car drive away.

He suddenly understood.

He knew why Pharaohs hid their treasure and why paper boys expanded their paper routes. He knew why his father worked every scrap of overtime and his grandmother still knitted baby clothes for the flea markets.

No one wanted less.

Everyone wanted more.

They never stopped.

Because whoever dies with the most toys wins.

When Glen's father returned with the pizzas, he found a different son. Glen had found his religion.

 

 

#

 

 

Tsk...tsk...tsk...

Glen stopped and yanked off his glove.

Now my right hand is shaking too.

His hands weren’t shaking from the penetrating cold.

He needed food.

He'd never gone without meals. He even snacked during the night.

His hands felt jittery and surreal. He pulled the small fish from his pocket.

Should I eat half?

No.
He hid the fish from sight. He could last longer. Shaking hands and a growling stomach never killed anyone. Starvation might. He'd stick to his half-hourly nibbles and push through the strange sensation.

'...
Glen
....'

Glen looked around. Someone had whispered his name.

Alex made the 'be quiet' gesture before beckoning Glen over.

What’s he up to?

Glen
padded over silently in his slippers. He heard the others still working.

'What's up?' Glen whispered.

Alex pointed. 'Look.'

Glen wiped ice off a familiar object poking from the ice. He tapped it with his pick.

Tink, tink.

'A wine bottle?' asked Glen. 'Sounds empty.’

Alex said, 'Look closer.'

Glen studied the green-tinged glass. 'There's a note in there!'

'Shhhh,' hissed Alex.

'Should we tell the others?' asked Glen.

Alex shook his head. 'We should read it first.’

'I’ll pull it out,' said Glen.

‘Hurry,’ urged Alex. ‘They’ll be back for more ice in a second. Try twisting it.’

Glen tried. It moved. He twisted left and right, left and right, feeling it loosen up.

Thonk!

It lurched free.

'Nice work,' said Alex.

Glen held the bottle between them. Inside rested a rolled piece of paper tied with string. The string led to the cork. The cork was halfway out.

Glen handed Alex the bottle. 'You found it.'

Alex gently worked the cork free so it didn't go
pop!

He lifted the cork, which pulled the string, which drew the note from the bottle.

It's not a note. It’s a newspaper clipping.

Alex unfolded the paper and became immediately transfixed. Reading, his face cycled through emotions. Surprise, confusion, disgust, and then fear.

'What’s it say?'

Alex handed Glen the clipping.

It was horrible. The words were bad, but not as bad as the picture. It made Glen wish they'd never found the bottle.

'Is this real?' asked Alex.

Glen nodded. 'I remember this. I was a kid. It was on the news because her father was the mayor.'

'Did she live?'

'I don't remember.'

'Fucking hell,' said Alex. 'I mean...Jesus Christ. What do we do now?'

'We have to tell them.'

'Let's think about this for a minute. That might make things really bad.'

'We don't have a choice,' said Glen.

Alex looked like a cornered animal. 'I know. It’s just....'

Glen didn't want to be a part of this. All he wanted was to go home. He handed Alex the clipping.

He began shivering, and again, it wasn't because of the cold.

 

 

#

 

 

'A bottle?' asked Victoria, moving around and slapping her hands together. 'We stopped for a stupid bottle?'

'It's useful for water,' said Megan. ‘My plastic bottle keeps running out.’

Glen had gathered everyone.

'We can't stop moving,' said Victoria. 'It's too cold. Come on.'

Carl yanked the cork —
POP!
— and studied the attached string.

Glen cringed as the sharp
pop
echoed around the chamber.

Their secret was out.

'What was inside?' asked Carl.

'Look at them standing there,' said Victoria. 'Like a couple of naughty schoolboys. What is it? We're freezing here.'

'It was food!' exclaimed Chrissie. 'And they ate it! Didn't you! Tell us the truth.'

Carl sniffed the bottle. ‘It wasn’t food.’

Glen drew the newspaper clipping from his robe. 'We found this inside.’

Carl reached for the clipping, but Glen handed it to Chrissie instead.

Confused, Chrissie glanced around as she unfolded the paper. She backed away from the group as she read.

Glen’s fingers felt dirty.

'Sorry, Carl,' Alex said. 'We didn't have a choice.'

A strange expression dropped over Carl's face.

He knows
, thought Glen.

Victoria and Megan couldn't wait. They crowded around Chrissie to read. Megan slapped her hand over her mouth. Victoria pursed her lips and nodded as though some long-held suspicion was finally vindicated.

'I knew it!' said Victoria. 'I knew I recognized his face.'

'She was just my age,' said Megan unsteadily. 'Carl? Did you do this?'

Carl didn’t answer.

'Is this you?' demanded Chrissie, turning the article so everyone could see the black and white photo.

It's him
, thought Glen.
He's younger in that photo, but it's him.

Carl turned away and looked into the ice.

'You were convicted,' said Chrissie, shaking the paper. 'You pleaded guilty. You really did this!'

'He tortured that poor girl,' moaned Victoria. 'Now we're trapped in here with him.'

Megan didn't look convinced. 'Carl couldn't have done that.'

'Don't be naïve,' said Chrissie. 'He practically skinned her alive. And then he just left her there.'

Victoria pinned Carl with a disgusted expression. 'Men are capable of anything.'

'Let me see that.' Megan took the article.

Glen knew how Megan felt. Carl didn't seem one bit the monster the article described.

Megan shook her head. 'It says you tied her hands and dragged her behind your car before dozens of witnesses. If you really did that, you'd still be in prison.'

'Unless he escaped,' said Victoria.

'To become a mailman?' asked Alex.

Glen saw Megan's point. The numbers didn't add up. Carl should still be in jail.

'This is a trick,' said Megan.

Chrissie snatched back the article. 'Is this real, Carl? Yes or no?'

Carl met Chrissie's eyes...and nodded.

'You disgust me,' hissed Victoria. 'They should hang your kind. Or strap you down and inject you with lethal poison. Death is too good for you. Prison is too good for you.'

Carl looked around the group. 'I paid my debt. My slate is clean. That's all in the past now.'

'But why?' asked Megan. 'Why would...how could...you do this?'

Carl stared at Megan, and Megan stared straight back. There was no malice in either direction.

'For money,' answered Carl simply.

Megan shook her head. 'But that doesn't make any sense. How can doing that to a woman get—’

'Enough!' shouted Chrissie. 'Everyone come with me. Not you, Carl. You stay here.'

Glen was happy to move, but they didn't go far before Chrissie spun and whispered, 'We have to tie him up.'

'He'll freeze,' said Glen. 'Tying him up is a death sentence.'

'We could use shoelaces,’ said Victoria. ‘Or even—’

'That's ridiculous,' Alex cut in. 'Start talking sense or I'm going back to work.'

Glen agreed. 'We're not going to tie him up. I doubt we even could.'

'Men always stick together,' said Victoria. 'What's your plan then? Play dumb and hope he doesn't murder us in our sleep?'

Chrissie waved the clipping. 'Somebody planted this to help us. This is a warning. Carl is dangerous.'

‘I think they’re trying to cause conflict,’ said Megan. ‘We need to stick together as a team.'

They both make pretty good points
, thought Glen. He glanced at Alex.

Alex shrugged, equally torn.

Glen preferred it when Victoria and Chrissie
weren't
making sense. Then the right decision seemed obvious. Now everyone made sense and it came down to gut instinct.

Glen's gut made things pretty clear.

It needed food.

He said, 'Even if Carl is an axe murderer, he wants to escape like the rest of us.'

'So we pretend we never found this?' countered Chrissie.