—Part One— —Part Two— —Part Three—
It felt like hours before someone finally entered the wooden box— my new home; isolation; cell. Whatever you want to call it. I sat against the wall, with the bedsheet draped around my shoulders, my hands shook from the fresh weeping wounds on my knuckles. The fresh wounds were the least of my concerns, my whole body throbbed with pain from the bat’s grip and the impact of the fall. I could see the purple bruises on my arms and my legs and felt one on my coccyx. It was a good thing that there wasn’t a mirror in there with me—I knew even without seeing my face that I looked a mess. I don’t know how long I sat there, just shaking, stretching and straining from every jolt of pain. I tried to fight back against it, not let it consume me. But it was all I had in that moment—other than my thoughts.
I wondered why they didn’t just kill me, sacrifice me, offer me—whatever the fuck it was that Uncle John, and his followers did. When I first woke up, I remembered Bart telling me that Luke managed to escape. I suppose that was why I was still alive, they wanted to know my side of the story. This was my punishment, being left in isolation to sit in agony, hoping that it would break me and make me tell them what I knew.
I couldn’t help but blame myself for being in that situation. I should’ve just left the phone where it was, confronted Tommy on my own. Hell, I could’ve just smacked the shit out of him until he told me the passcode, told me it was Luke’s phone or whatever their arrangement was. Luke and I never did get to finish that discussion. Maybe he had already tried to call the police. For all I knew the camp was a circus—up in flames—while I sat there alone; forgotten. Maybe waiting for death to come in the wooden box was better than the alternative. I didn’t particularly like either option, but I needed to face the inevitable.
When the door did eventually open, it was dark outside, so I didn’t get a chance to even guess where I was. I’d been imagining the first moment the door would open. My plan was to get up and tackle whoever it was and run away. But that didn’t happen. As soon as I tried to stand up, it was like a thousand knives stabbed into me and I fell straight back down to the floor, screaming from the agony. Jeff, one of the camp counselors, was my visitor. He was built like a wrestler, which was probably the reason they sent him to deal with me. He dropped the wrapped plate of food to the floor, as well as some clothes, and tutted at me like I was accidental mess on the floor that someone had just made.
‘Come on,’ he said, lifting me up from the floor. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’
I ignored the question. ‘Where am I?’
Jeff practically threw me onto the bed, which made the skin on my back tighten like crazy. I moaned from the pain. ‘Camp Stanleyside,’ he eventually mumbled, giving me a hard glance. ‘I brought you something to eat.’
Once I got over the shock of the pain I asked again: ‘But where am I?’
Jeff walked back towards the door and locked it. Clumsy, I thought. He should have done that first. I could use that carelessness to my advantage if he comes again.
He dumped the clothes on the foot of the bed and placed the plate of food on the side table. Potatoes, carrots and an overcooked piece of beef. The thought of eating it made me want to gag. It looked like it had been sitting aside without any wrapping on it for hours. Luckily, Jeff also had a bottle of water with him, which I needed more. ‘Eat,’ he said.
‘Not until you tell me where I am,’ I said, definatly. ‘I want to speak to Bart.’
Jeff puffed his chest and placed his hands on his hips. ‘He’s busy.’
‘Fine. I’ll speak to Uncle John then.’
‘Don’t worry, Brody. He’ll be paying you a visit soon enough. Until then, you need to eat.’
‘No,’ I said, crossing my arms like a brat.
Jeff leaned in, close enough for me to smell what he’d had for dinner. I could practically taste the bacon grease; it was that intense. ‘Don’t make me force you.’
–
The next time I woke up it became clear that they were drugging my food with sedatives. I didn’t feel sticky, and I could smell the soap on my skin. Someone also took the time to dress me. Funny, even when they were keeping me prisoner, they didn’t want to go against the camp rules. As much as the drugging pissed me off, I was grateful to feel clean.
It was a struggle to lift myself from the bed, the bruises had fully developed by then, and I was basically black and blue all over. I was still in pain, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the day before—if only a day had passed, that is. I had no concept of time in the wooden box, there wasn’t even a gap in the door that could tell me if it was day or night. However, on closer inspection of the door, I could see that I wasn’t the first person who had been kept in there before—the scratch marks confirmed that.
Hours passed, no one came to see me. I wondered what the ultimate purpose was for keeping me in that place. If Uncle John was really that interested in what I had to say, then why didn’t he come to see me straight away? After all, it was Bart who told me to get my story straight. Maybe they’ve questioned him too—about our connection. Whatever that means. I still didn’t understand whose side he was really on.
It could have been another hour—or several—before the pain really kicked in and the sweat started to piss out of me. I felt it dancing all over my body, and I couldn’t sit still any longer. I started pacing the perimeter of the box, doing laps over and over again. When that did nothing but agitate me and frustrate me, I resorted to kicking the walls, screaming at the top of my lungs. Eventually I tired myself out when I started throwing myself at the door, a pitiful attempt to break out of my wooden prison. All it did was make me angrier, make the pain worse and, oddly, release the piss I’d been holding in for hours. I had half a bottle’s worth of water left, which I wasn’t prepared to waste, so I just did it in the corner out of desperation. It stunk the whole place out.
Great.
I gave up on the idea of anyone coming. At some point I passed out.
– Fried chicken, concrete fries and a mushy vegetable medley awaited me on the side table. Again, covered in a clingfilm wrap—full of condensation. Yum. It at least gave me some indication of what time of day it was. I attempted to shift myself from the bed, but I felt a cold metal cuff around my ankle—a shackle. I went to examine the chain and jumped out of my skin when I saw Uncle John, sitting patiently and perfectly still, on a chair halfway across the box.
A sombre smirk rested on his face, probably because he got off on the fear that everyone had for him. He saw that in my face when I realised, he was sitting there. ‘Hello, Brody,’ he said. ‘Feeling any better?’
I shifted my eyes down to the shackle. ‘Is this really necessary?’ I asked, pulling at it to test its strength. The jangled sound it made filled the room. ‘I don’t understand why I’m here.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, you do.’
I shrugged. ‘Enlighten me, then.’
Uncle John raised himself up from the chair and came further into the light. His calm presence was always the most frightening thing about him, on face value, but I knew I was staring at the person who was responsible for many deaths—I also knew that could potentially include my own.
‘You’ve forgotten the rules already?’ he asked. Before I could answer, he continued: ‘They were so simple. But you’ve broken them—many times. Haven’t you?’
I looked away from him. That was enough to confirm my denial. No point in arguing my way out of this situation.
I heard his footsteps reach the end of the bed. ‘I know you’ve become . . . acquainted with more than just the serpent in the lake.’
‘Yes, I was attacked by a giant bat,’ I said, giving my full attention back to him. ‘I don’t understand why I should be punished for that. Any more friends I need to get “acquainted” with?’
‘You’ve already met the guardian in the woods—another serpent. When you were alone, without anyone else,’ he said, swaying his hand over at my scratches and cuts to prove his point. ‘You didn’t just fall into a thorn bush, Brody. I’m not stupid.’
I guessed that Bart probably told him. Either by choice or by force, but I wasn’t going to hand the bastard that playing card. Not straight away. I wanted to call his bluff. ‘Prove it.’
‘I have all the proof I need.’ He flashed a sickly grin. ‘I see all.’
I scoffed. ‘You think you’re some sort of God? You’re a joke, that’s what you are. This whole place is just one sick fucking joke.’
‘And all you had to do was play along, but you didn’t.’
His expression changed; empty. No soul. The man was sick in the head.
‘Why do you do this?’ I asked.
‘The world spat you out for a reason, prison is too good for someone like you. You’re a destructive reprobate. The scum of the earth.’ Uncle John leaned in close, so we were face to face. ‘And you, young man, fucked up your only chance at a life. I could have given that to you.’
I used the opportunity to spit in his face. He turned away and wiped the saliva off. When he turned back around, his eyes changed. In a flash, I stared at glowing red irises; the black pupils in the middle were like sharp spikes—pulsating as I glared into them. Inside, I was screaming, but outside I couldn’t even move.
Uncle John grabbed me by the throat, and hissed, just like a serpent. I choked, trying to struggle away. He let go of the grip and shoved me down on the pillow.
I closed my eyes, hoping it was all just a nightmare. When I opened them again, he was halfway across the room, walking towards the door. He turned around, his eyes now back to normal. ‘I’ll see you at the lake later tonight.’
I leapt from the bed, ready to launch myself at him, but the shackle stopped me. He was already gone, but I carried on screaming, yelling and cussing long after.
–
I tried to eat the food, the last supper, if you will. But what was the point? I was going to be someone else’s meal soon enough. A couple of hours after Uncle John’s visit, I heard the sound of the conch in the distance. Wherever I was, it wasn’t in the main camp, but it wasn’t too far out either.
When the door finally opened, it was Jeff and another counselor called Todd. There was no use in fighting either of them, both of them could take me—easy. Plus I was still pretty weak. I saw that Todd was holding a hessian sack to throw over my head.
I shook my head at both of them. ‘Go to hell.’
Todd stood over me, ready to place the sack over my head. ‘No, Brody, that’s where you’re going.’
‘I’m already there,’ I said, before I saw nothing but total darkness.
–
When the sack was removed, I faced the crowd. All the campers and counselors huddled together like one big family. Just like last time, some looked hungry and some looked terrified for what was to come. Bart stood at the other side of the dock, looking straight ahead.
‘Bart?’ I said, but he didn’t even flinch at the sound of my voice. ‘Bart?!’
Nothing. I turned my attention back to the crowd where Josh proudly stood at the front, with his arms crossed and a huge smile on his face. It occurred to me that Josh didn’t just want to be a leader to the campers, happy that Luke and I were out the way, so he could succeed in that role. But that he was excited for my death. It was more than a thrill; it was a bloodlust. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was sent to Camp Stanleyside for murder, or for being an accessory to murder. The needy, innocent act he put up when I first came to Stanleyside was convincing. I’m surprised I didn’t see it sooner. I’d seen evil enough to recognise it and this was the real Josh.
‘Getting a good look, are you?’ I yelled over to him.
Josh raised his fist in the air. ‘Justice will be served.’
The crowd chanted ‘Here! Here!’
‘And who are you to decide justice? You’re just a prisoner. That’s all you’ll ever be here. You’re never getting out.’ I looked around the crowd to address them all. ‘None of you, will EVER get out.’
Josh’s face turned sour, I thought he was about to charge over to me like a bull and smack me in the face. Before he could, Uncle John stepped in between us. ‘You’re right, Josh. Justice will be served.’
‘Come on, Uncle John,’ I said, his back still turned away from me. ‘Tell them. Tell them they’re never going to leave.’
‘And what makes you think we want to?’ I recognised the voice from the crowd. It was Pete. Ricky nodded next to him. Perhaps all of my cabin buddies, besides Luke were the ones reporting back to Uncle John about every move I made. There was no sign of Tommy in the crowd—maybe he was next. Or already gone. ‘This is our paradise,’ Pete continued, ‘we are lucky to be here.’
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘You watched Rich die, right here! You’re telling me that you’re okay with that?’
Josh stepped forward, smug and taller than he’d ever looked. ‘Rich had been planning to escape for a long time, but I put a stop to that.’
‘You’re a fucking psycho,’ I spat. ‘He was your friend!’
‘Once upon a time. Shortly, I’ll be able to say the same thing about you . . .’ Josh stepped back into the crowd as Uncle John took his place at the top step of the dock.
‘Yet again, one of your fellow campers has let you all down and shamed us all with his deceit! Brody has broken the rules time and time again and conspired with other campers to escape from our paradise. You’re absolutely right, Peter.’ Uncle John stopped and turned his head in my direction. ‘He does not deserve to be here, or anywhere else on this planet.’
The crowd chanted: ‘Here! Here!’
Uncle John repeated the same speech when Rich was killed. ‘Brody, you have broken your promise to become a better citizen of society, you have betrayed us all and for that you must face the consequences. You’ve ruined your final chance and now you must walk the dock.’
The crowd chanted in unison once more before Jeff and Todd dragged me up the steps. I didn’t even struggle, until we were about to walk past Bart.
‘Coward . . .’ I said under my breath. Bart’s glassy eyes glazed over me briefly before turning away again.
Uncle John stepped to the side and placed a hand on Bart’s shoulder. I could see it took all of Bart’s might to not shudder away from him. That was something to hold onto. I still wanted to believe he was a good guy.
Jeff and Todd let me go halfway down the dock and pushed me forward. I stood still for a minute and looked out at the calm lake. Barely a ripple in sight, just the reflection of the moonlight. My senses were heightened, yet I heard nothing but complete silence. Every part of me was so tuned in to the surroundings that I could have heard a pin drop. I took one last deep breath. I had no choice but to walk forward, because I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
I looked back one last time at the campers, Uncle John, Bart, Josh—all of them.
‘Fuck you,’ I said, not to one particular person. It was for all of them.
When I walked to the end of the dock, the silence disappeared, and all I could heard was my heart trying to break out of my chest.
Then I heard the air siren, the battle cry—that almighty roar of the cobra rising to the surface, I closed my eyes and thought about two people before I opened them again, the first one was my mom, and how sorry I was that everything I had done led me here. The second was Bart, and the first day we met.
Because of the deafening sound of the cobra’s roar, I didn’t hear what was happening behind me. When I opened my eyes the black cobra—which looked taller than I remembered—crashed through the surface of the lake and towered above me. I stared directly into the cobra’s red eyes and shook. The eyes, I thought. They were exactly like Uncle John’s eyes earlier. And then I remembered what Rich said that day when I suggested we came to the lake. He kept repeating . . . The eyes, the eyes.
The cobra expanded its jaw and its hood. The fangs were ready to strike down on me. I closed my eyes again, then I felt someone grab my wrist. When I opened them, Bart was next to me, out of breath and dripping with sweat. He tightened his grip around my wrist, shifting his eyes from me to the cobra and back again. At this point, the cobra was halfway down, ready to clamp down on both of us, when Bart turned me to the edge of the dock. I could barely hear him, but I read his lips when he screamed: ‘JUMP!’
We crashed into the murky water; I could hardly see. Bart kept his grip around my wrist until a strong current separated us. I heard the impact of the cobra crashing down onto the dock, completely breaking the wood as it collapsed into the lake, likely what caused the current. As well as the weight of the cobra.
I shifted across the water, trying to swim up but the current was still going. When it finally stopped after a couple of seconds, I stood still and tried to see through the water. It was dark but I saw something moving towards me. Bart!, I thought. I swam closer to greet him, until I saw how quickly the murk was clearing from the movement. I saw two huge red eyes approaching me before I even saw its scaley head.
The water filled my lungs when I screamed. I was moments away from death—again. I saw no way out this time, the cobra was inches away from me. I struggled and attempted to swim, but the water was already inside me, my vision began to blur—I was drowning.
–
The next thing I knew, I was jolting forward and spewing out a load of water. Bart was next to me, panting like a dog. He’d dragged me to a mound by the side of the lake. I had no idea how he managed to get us away from the snake. Before I could even say anything, he grabbed me and pulled me in close for a hug.
‘Don’t ever scare me like that again,’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’ I said, breathless, ‘you’re the one who just told me to jump into a lake with a giant snake!’
The moment was cut short. Behind us the snake erupted from the lake once again and slammed its body down near the mound—where the crowd still stood. As soon as it headed towards them, they all dispersed and ran for their lives, screaming and yelling. The snake slivered its way around the corner to follow them. It was heading for the camp.