She woke up, gasping for air.
And saw Dave, axe in hand, towering over her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Panting, Gwen sprang to her feet and backed away from Dave.
A disturbing blend of childlike confusion and murderous intent was carved into his face like the design on a Halloween pumpkin.
Gwen backed up into Jo and Max, who were standing by the seats nearest the curtain at the front of the cabin.
All around them, angry red numbers flashed:
‘02:25’. ‘02:24’…
Their computer touch screens were active again, counting down — but to what?
“Dave…” Jo said.
“What are you doing man?” Max asked, easing forward.
“What ever I have to…” Dave growled.
“Look whatever he’s told you, you still have a choice.”
Jo inched forward too, followed by Gwen. Strength in numbers, but Dave had other ideas.
“Back the fuck off!” He brandished the axe, threatening all of them.
Gwen held her hands out in a calming gesture. “Listen to Max, he’s right, we’ll work this out together…”
Dave laughed madly. “That’s not even his real name! Don’t try your counselling bullshit on me! Stay back!”
He swung the axe at Gwen’s torso, narrowly missing her. She yelped in surprise and stepped back out of range of the blade.
Glancing over his shoulder, Dave saw the countdown:
‘02:00’.
He swung the axe sharply at Jo.
She ducked as the axe blade sliced through the space where her face had been and embedded itself in Max’s shoulder.
Max screamed in agony and collapsed to his knees, his flesh tearing from the end of the blade. Blood pooled just below his shoulder, little red lines running down his arm. Dave raised the axe blade again, clearly intent on finishing Max.
As he took a step forward, Jo grabbed Dave’s arm, trying to halt his progress. He shoved her aside roughly and she banged her head against the cabin wall painfully.
Dave swung the axe at Max again. More by accident than design, Max stumbled out of the path of the blade, which continued its trajectory into a conduit of cables and pipes. Sparks showered over the combatants as the sharp metal bit into the wiring. The overhead lights flickered madly, and then died.
The main cabin was plunged into darkness, Dave’s frantic eyes searching out Max in the gloom.
Seconds later, emergency lighting clicked on, bathing them in the same menacing red glow as the LED light at the cockpit door.
The momentary darkness gave Max his chance and he took it, slamming his body into Dave’s. Knocking the big man to the floor, Max’s tackle also loosened Dave’s grip on the axe. It clattered and skidded across the gangway, coming to halt at the base of the bar. The two men wrestled in the aisle. Glasses and bottles tumbled and shattered in their wake. Max had a tight hold around Dave’s waist, preventing him from crawling for the axe. But Dave wrenched an arm free from under his body and brought his elbow down, sharp, on Max’s shoulder wound.
Max let go of Dave’s waist with a yelp and Dave punched him hard in the back of the head. As he fell, Max’s fingers fumbled for the edge of a metal drinks tray. Dave grabbed an empty champagne bottle and swung the business end at Max. He intercepted the blow with the metal tray and the bottle exploded in a fury of broken glass, cutting Dave’s hand. He recoiled, dropping the broken bottle and cradling his bleeding hand.
Max took the offensive and swung the tray again, smashing it into the side of Dave’s head. The blow seemed to snap Dave from his murderous rage. He let go of his bleeding hand and pawed at the wound on his head like a startled infant.
“One minute,” Alligator intoned.
The words were loaded with menace, and took Dave back down with them. His eyes darkened with grim intent and he struggled to his feet. Max was barely able to catch his breath before he too stood up.
Dave looked at Max, oozing the confidence borne of being the bigger man. He saw red at the corner of his eye and brushed at it, thinking it was blood from his head wound. Then Dave turned, realising the red blur was a small fire extinguisher mounted in a holder on the cabin wall. He tore it from its casing and lunged for Max. Swinging the heavy cylinder, he managed to clip Max’s forehead. With a sickening cracking sound, Max hit the deck. Dave towered over him like a Neanderthal beast over its prey.
Holding the fire extinguisher aloft, he paused for a second, teetering on the precipice of murder.
“Do it right or not at all, Dave,” Alligator said.
A nerve ending pulsed in Dave’s temple. He blinked it away like it was a fly buzzing around his head. A violent whining sound permeated Dave’s eardrums. He gritted his teeth, prepared to bring the extinguisher down on Max’s head.
Max’s fingers found the axe handle. He pivoted his body on the floor and brought the blade up sharply, straight into Dave’s groin. The big man gasped in shock and agony, dropping the extinguisher inches from where Max lay. Dave staggered backwards, screaming, as Max wrenched the axe blade free. Max hopped to his feet, his second chance spurring him on. Dave grabbed another champagne bottle with his ragged hand and staggered towards Max.
The two men swung their weapons simultaneously — the bottle clipping Max’s head as the axe blade landed full-force in Dave’s cranium.
Dazed, Max slumped to the floor. His vision lurched and tilted.
Dave lay flat on his back, dead. Blood leaked from his battered skull.
Somewhere behind him, Max heard the girls’ horrified gasps.
“What have you done?” Gwen said, shocked.
“He… wasn’t going to stop,” Max murmured.
He looked up at Gwen and Jo blankly. They didn’t look so sure.
Little white reading lights flickered into life, cutting through the red haze of the cabin. The speakers crackled gently, and Alligator addressed them once again.
“Thank you for a very enjoyable game. Do, or die. Now you’re getting it.”
Max’s eyes searched Jo’s and Gwen’s for some sign of support; receiving none. He’d done merely what he had to do, even though it meant playing into Alligator’s loathsome machinations.
Jo and Gwen both looked away, leaving Max right next to Dave’s ruined body.
He stood up carefully and navigated around the deep crimson pool of blood that had soaked into the aisle carpet.
“Unfortunately,” Alligator continued, “Dave failed his task — and so poor Sarah will have to go after all.”
Alligator’s words chilled each of them to the bone.
They froze in horror as the touch screen displays switched to a video window showing Dave’s fiancée in the dingy garage, the noose around her neck. Muffled cries of terror came from beneath the thick gaffer tape clamping her mouth shut as the killer-cameraman approached her. He kicked the high stool away from under her feet. Her body dropped violently, stopping just a few inches above the floor with a hideous crack. Her legs twitched in a macabre Saint Vitus Dance, then swung limply above the floor.
Jo removed her knuckles from her mouth; suddenly realising she was biting down on them so hard she was almost drawing blood.
“They killed her anyway!” she said, thinking of her poor daughter all alone in that dingy cell — all alone save for the camera eyes watching her.
Max looked at her, subdued, not knowing what to say.
“He died for nothing. For nothing…” Gwen muttered in disbelief.
Jo reached out to Gwen, placed her hand on her shoulder. They needed to stick together, to make sense of all the carnage. But Gwen brushed Jo’s hand away and retreated to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.