Roy Banner stood over the lifeless body of his friend Peter. Blood dripped from the swords in his hands. The others would have to kill him for what he’d done. The problem was, he was already dead. They watched him die. The devil took him into the bowels of hell and spat him back out to wreak more havoc.
Eddie and Steve looked on in horror, crouched behind an old sixties-style sofa. “What the fuck do we do now?” whispered Eddie.
“We keep going,” said Steve. “We download the file and get the hell out of here.”
“What about Peter and Roy? And what the fuck is Roy anyway?”
“Don’t worry. Once we get out we’ll tip-off the cops from a phone booth.”
“A PHONE BOOTH?” yelled Steve a little too loudly. “When was the last time you saw a fucking phone booth?”
Roy stared in their direction, his eyes white and gloomy. Steve and Eddie looked at each other and nodded. As Roy approached, they lifted the old sofa and tossed it in Roy’s direction, pinning him to the floor temporarily. They made a run for the dining room.
Old Man Langly had an office in the house somewhere. That’s what they needed to find. That’s what they came for. Within that office, on a computer, sat the ultimate prize – a program that could change the world. Especially the world and bank accounts of the five young men who illegally entered the house. That is – if they could get it before being killed.
They entered the house half an hour earlier via the cellar doors on the western wall. A good set of bolt-cutters made easy work of the padlock. In the cellar they found a ladder offering entry to the south-west corner of the large foyer, only a couple of metres from the front door. Roy pushed up on the trap door shifting a rug and a three-legged table. Fine china hit the floor and smashed as Roy forced it open.
“Quiet,” whispered Dave. “You’ll wake the dead.”
“Relax,” laughed Roy. “We know Old Man Langly isn’t here.”
The five men climbed up and spread out across the foyer. Historical pictures covered the walls. There were old photos of the surrounding area and strange drawings of owls, bats, possums and other creatures of the night.
Roy Banner strutted through the centre of the room until he stepped on a tripwire. A trap door opened in the ceiling. A whole mess of miniature swords with 40 centimetre, double-edge, razor-sharp blades fell from above him, spearing into the floor. Not one of them touched him.
Roy smirked. “Nice try, Old Man Langly.”
A shiny meat cleaver sprung from a wall-mounted box next to the front door. It hurried across the room and lodged square in the back of Roys’s scull. The smirk remained on his face as he fell to the floor, convulsing, blood gushing from his head.
The cellar hatch slammed shut and a bolt activated. A heavy timber beam crashed down over the front door, with the word “WELCOME” splashed across it in bright red paint.
The remaining four split into two groups. Eddie and Steve scrambled into a hallway on the eastern side of the foyer.
Peter and Dave headed west through an archway into a large, gaudy living room full of 1960’s furniture, red carpet and floral wallpaper. Large windows looked out over the expansive grounds. Marble side tables carried woollen doylies hosting square glass ashtrays with blackened corners and dulled bases. North of the living room, another archway fed into a smaller dining room. There were silver candelabras, silver trays and silver cutlery, and more red carpet and floral wallpaper. From the dining room, a large archway on the right led to the kitchen, but another smaller door sat to the left.
“You check that room, Dave. I’ll check the kitchen and see where else it leads.”
“Okay,” said Dave nervously. “Yell out if you find anything. Don’t go too far, alright?”
“Relax, Dave. Let’s just get the file and get out.”
Dave opened the small door. He found an office with an old oak desk and a computer. A magnificent painting of Old Man Langly hung over the desk. He shook the mouse and the computer screen came to life. The all-important file sat almost mystically beneath an icon on the desktop. He began to tremble.
He pulled a flash drive from his pocket, stuffed it into the USB port and began the download. The door swung open behind him. “Hey, Peter. I’ve found the file. I’m downloading it now.”
He turned to face Peter, smiling. The smile quickly turned to a look of horror. It wasn’t Peter. Roy Banner rushed toward him holding two fallen swords from the foyer. The meat cleaver still protruded from the back of his head, his eyes white and gloomy as he approached. Dave sat frozen, eyes bulging in disbelief. Roy lunged, forcing the point of each blade into Dave’s forehead, deep into his brain. His body spasmed before becoming still.
Roy pulled the swords out and left the office of Old Man Langly. He passed through the dining room and into the living room, sitting quietly in a massive day-chair facing the vegetable garden. The chair had a tall backrest, a wide seat and high armrests, leaving him almost invisible to others entering the living room. He sat quietly licking blood from the blades of the two swords.
Peter found only a small laundry beyond the kitchen. A door leading outside carried a heavy padlock. He headed back to the small door in the dining room. He paused, pushing it open slowly.
“Dave? Did you find anything?” No response. He moved in. Peter’s jaw dropped. In a chair behind on old oak desk, under a grand painting of Old Man Langly, sat Dave, dead, blood flowing freely down his face.
The computer screen displayed the words: “download complete”, the flash drive still plugged into the port. Checking over his shoulder, he removed it and stuffed it in his pocket, peering out the door cautiously before leaving the room.
Eddie and Steve returned from the eastern hallway. They found two large bedrooms and a bathroom, but no sign of Old Man Langly’s office. When they arrived back in the foyer, they stopped and looked at each other.
“What’s wrong with this picture?” asked Steve.
“Where the fuck is Roy?” whispered Eddie.
They tip-toed into the living room. Hearing muffled sounds from the room beyond, they crouched behind an old sixties-style sofa, waiting and listening. Peter snuck back into the living room. “Steve? Eddie? Is that you guys?” he whispered. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Steve and Eddie took a peek over the top of the sofa. As they were about to fully expose themselves, they quickly retreated, not believing what they saw. A white-eyed, angry-looking Roy Banner rose from the day-chair behind Peter, carrying two squeaky clean swords. The cleaver still hung from his skull.
Peter looked toward the sofa waiting for a response. Roy stepped up behind him and plunged the swords deep into his back. He withdrew them, then thrust them in again. Peter stared blankly for a few seconds before dropping to the floor.
Eddie and Steve looked on in horror, crouched behind an old sixties-style sofa. “What the fuck do we do now?” whispered Eddie.
“We keep going,” said Steve. “We download the file and get the hell out of here.”
“What about Peter and Roy? And what the fuck is Roy anyway?”
“Don’t worry. Once we get out we’ll tip-off the cops from a phone booth.”
“A PHONE BOOTH?” yelled Steve a little too loudly. “When was the last time you saw a fucking phone booth?”
Roy stared in their direction, his eyes white and gloomy. Steve and Eddie looked at each other and nodded. As Roy approached, they lifted the old sofa and tossed it in Roy’s direction, pinning him to the floor temporarily. They made a run for the dining room.
Steve took a quick look around. “Okay Eddie,” he said. “We need to find Dave. You check that door. I’ll head into the kitchen. Yell out if you find anything.”
“Split up?” cried Eddie. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“It’s the only way,” said Steve as he slipped out of the room. He had no intention of seeing any of them again. He wanted to find an exit and get the hell out of there.
Eddie knew he’d been left for dead. “You bastard,” he said to himself. He shook like a leaf. He opened the small door on the left of the dining room and stumbled upon the office of Old Man Langly. His head snapped back at the sight of Dave, his head down, blood dripping onto his Black Sabbath t-shirt. As he looked away, he noticed the computer screen with “download complete” still displaying. Gritting his teeth, he searched Dave’s pockets. No flash drive. It meant only one thing. Someone else had the drive.
Moving slowly and quietly, Eddie headed back to the living room. He took a careful look around before entering. All quiet. Roy was gone. He frisked Peter’s corpse. Bingo! He found the flash drive and placed it in his pocket.
Roy Banner stumbled back in from the foyer. Eddie staggered back and cowered behind the day-chair in the corner. Roy moved slowly toward him. He stepped over Peter’s body and stared in Eddie’s direction, his eyes wide and white.
Steve burst back into the living room, desperate for an exit, finding only locked windows and a padlocked door beyond the kitchen. As Roy shifted his gaze to him, Peter slowly rose from the floor behind him. His eyes white and gloomy. He grabbed the handle of the meat cleaver in the back of Roy’s head, stuck his right knee deep into Roy’s back and pulled the cleaver free. He grabbed a handful of his hair and began hacking into Roy Banner’s neck, cutting his head clean off. Roy’s body fell to the floor in a heap.
Peter moved slowly toward Steve, still holding Roy’s head, and offered the cleaver to Steve with a sorrowful look of understanding on his face. Steve figured it out. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Without hesitation, he took the cleaver and hacked Peter’s head off. Steve shed a tear as he held his friend’s head in his hand as his body fell lifeless next to Roy Banner.
A moment of silence followed as Eddie peered over the top of the day-chair and into the distraught eyes of his friend Steve. The silence was broken by the sound of shattering glass. Police lept through the living room windows with guns drawn. They surrounded Steve and yelled: “FREEZE! DROP THE CLEAVER! DROP IT NOW!”
Steve considered what the cops were looking at. He dropped the cleaver and Peter’s head to the floor. “Oh, shit.”
Eddie felt the flash drive in his pocket, just to make sure, then threw his hands in the air. “Thank God you’re here,” he cried out to the police. “He was going to kill me next.”
Steve looked at Eddie with an angry smile. “Good one, Eddie. You’re a real friend.”
The house had many trap doors. Old Man Langly entered his office through one next to his desk. He looked at Dave’s body and gently placed a hand on his forehead. Dave’s white, gloomy eyes opened. He rose to his feet.
“Now, bring me that flash drive,” said Old Man Langly.