me.”
“Bollocks, everyone here has looked at something they shouldn’t have in the past. What about you Jo? That execution video?”
Jo glared at him. “Don’t bring me into this either.”
“We all bloody well saw it,” Dave countered, “Anyone who says they haven’t looked at dodgy stuff is a fucking liar!”
He fidgeted in his seat, his agitation palpable.
“Am I right, or am I right?”
No one answered him. No one’s disagreeing with me either, thought Dave, not even Cherry bloody Bomb over there. So why am I the bad guy here all of a sudden?
He unclipped his safety belt. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers.”
“What are you doing?” Jo asked, as Dave stormed to the front of the plane.
He paused at the curtain.
“I want to speak to the pilot,” Dave said, before striding through to the cockpit door.
Eight
Dave banged his fists against the unyielding cockpit door. The red glow from the LED light illuminated his face, accentuating his rage. He’d had enough, more than enough, of their host’s games and accusations.
“Open the door!” he yelled, phlegm rattling in the back of his throat. “Open the bloody door!”
Only mocking silence answered him. He turned his attention to the numerical keypad mounted on the wall next to the door. How difficult could it be? The factory default for anything electronic was 1-2-3-4; any fool knew that. He keyed in the numbers.
Nothing.
“Please return to your seat Dave,” Alligator boomed.
Dave tried more random numbers, little keys beeping as he pressed them with his sweaty fingers. Still nothing. He took a step back from the door, then raised one foot and kicked at it, hard.
“Return to your seat Dave,” repeated Alligator. “This is your final warning.”
“Who’s in there? Open this door!”
He kicked again, but the door would not budge.
Gwen watched from her seat. “Why won’t they answer?” she asked, concerned.
The monitor screens flickered with digital noise as Dave stormed back into the cabin.
“It’s fucking locked,” he fumed, “no-one will answer me.”
Jo shook her head. “They’re not going to answer with you banging on the door like that are they?”
The on-screen digital noise flickered and bent, distorted, before eventually clearing to reveal the Alligator’s face. His voice followed, as cold as ice.
“As Dave has broken the rules and ignored my clear instructions, I have no choice but to initiate a forfeit.”
“A forfeit? Oh no!” Dave exclaimed in mock terror, “Do I look like I give a crap? I’m not playing your little game anymore...”
Alligator continued, oblivious. “One of Dave’s friends will now be selected from his All2gethr friend list.”
Dave’s profile appeared on all their screens, his list of friends in the familiar sidebar to the left of the page. A lot of little faces and names, scrolling up across the screen. Panting, Dave watched as the scrolling stopped. The name of one of his friends was highlighted - RORY. A window popped up, opening Rory’s profile page.
“What the hell is he doing?” Dave muttered under his breath.
The others looked on in silence as the screens filled with flickering digital glitches. A ghost-image of the Alligator’s yapping face flashed in and out of view. Then a video window appeared, a cursor blinking in the top left corner next to the words ‘LIVE FEED’.
Shaky video camera footage revealed an image of a suburban house. Whoever was operating the camera walked up the path to the rear of the house, panning the lens into a side window for a quick view of the living room. The room was lit by a large flat-screen television, muffled sounds of incendiary warfare coming from the speakers. Rory sat in front of the screen, his back to the window. He was wearing an online gaming
“Bollocks, everyone here has looked at something they shouldn’t have in the past. What about you Jo? That execution video?”
Jo glared at him. “Don’t bring me into this either.”
“We all bloody well saw it,” Dave countered, “Anyone who says they haven’t looked at dodgy stuff is a fucking liar!”
He fidgeted in his seat, his agitation palpable.
“Am I right, or am I right?”
No one answered him. No one’s disagreeing with me either, thought Dave, not even Cherry bloody Bomb over there. So why am I the bad guy here all of a sudden?
He unclipped his safety belt. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers.”
“What are you doing?” Jo asked, as Dave stormed to the front of the plane.
He paused at the curtain.
“I want to speak to the pilot,” Dave said, before striding through to the cockpit door.
Eight
Dave banged his fists against the unyielding cockpit door. The red glow from the LED light illuminated his face, accentuating his rage. He’d had enough, more than enough, of their host’s games and accusations.
“Open the door!” he yelled, phlegm rattling in the back of his throat. “Open the bloody door!”
Only mocking silence answered him. He turned his attention to the numerical keypad mounted on the wall next to the door. How difficult could it be? The factory default for anything electronic was 1-2-3-4; any fool knew that. He keyed in the numbers.
Nothing.
“Please return to your seat Dave,” Alligator boomed.
Dave tried more random numbers, little keys beeping as he pressed them with his sweaty fingers. Still nothing. He took a step back from the door, then raised one foot and kicked at it, hard.
“Return to your seat Dave,” repeated Alligator. “This is your final warning.”
“Who’s in there? Open this door!”
He kicked again, but the door would not budge.
Gwen watched from her seat. “Why won’t they answer?” she asked, concerned.
The monitor screens flickered with digital noise as Dave stormed back into the cabin.
“It’s fucking locked,” he fumed, “no-one will answer me.”
Jo shook her head. “They’re not going to answer with you banging on the door like that are they?”
The on-screen digital noise flickered and bent, distorted, before eventually clearing to reveal the Alligator’s face. His voice followed, as cold as ice.
“As Dave has broken the rules and ignored my clear instructions, I have no choice but to initiate a forfeit.”
“A forfeit? Oh no!” Dave exclaimed in mock terror, “Do I look like I give a crap? I’m not playing your little game anymore...”
Alligator continued, oblivious. “One of Dave’s friends will now be selected from his All2gethr friend list.”
Dave’s profile appeared on all their screens, his list of friends in the familiar sidebar to the left of the page. A lot of little faces and names, scrolling up across the screen. Panting, Dave watched as the scrolling stopped. The name of one of his friends was highlighted - RORY. A window popped up, opening Rory’s profile page.
“What the hell is he doing?” Dave muttered under his breath.
The others looked on in silence as the screens filled with flickering digital glitches. A ghost-image of the Alligator’s yapping face flashed in and out of view. Then a video window appeared, a cursor blinking in the top left corner next to the words ‘LIVE FEED’.
Shaky video camera footage revealed an image of a suburban house. Whoever was operating the camera walked up the path to the rear of the house, panning the lens into a side window for a quick view of the living room. The room was lit by a large flat-screen television, muffled sounds of incendiary warfare coming from the speakers. Rory sat in front of the screen, his back to the window. He was wearing an online gaming
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