Come Into Darkness Page 10

“Oh.” Mario had no idea why the words had filled him with such dread. “I…guess so.”

  Crane smiled, displaying small, yellow teeth. Mario wondered if they were false.

  “Excellent,” said the director. “I believe you know Krystelle. What a delight that girl is! I suggest we go outside, have a quick chat and start the shoot. Ever done one take before?”

  Mario blinked. He’d been staring. “What?”

  “Wake up, sir! Have you ever done a shoot in one take before?”

  He doesn’t sound very American…

  Forcing a smile, Mario said, “Only in a home movie.”

  Crane chuckled. “We’ll change that. Come along!”

  He turned and walked down the corridor. At the front door, he opened it and stepped outside. Mario scratched his head.

  “Are you still wankered?” snapped Jonno. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me,” said Mario, keeping Crane in sight through the open door. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because if you get sacked, I don’t get paid. Sort your shit out!”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  Jonno fussed over Mario, fixing his hair and ensuring his shirt hung straight.

  “Then get your game face on. Who knows where this might lead?” Jonno stepped back, admiring his handiwork. He gave Mario an approving nod.

  Mario passed through the hall and out of the front door. Jonno closed it behind him.

  The house stood in the middle of a row of neat terraces, and Mario wondered what the neighbours thought. They must know. Sound carries through thin walls, and some of the shoots made lots of noise. A girl can’t be gangbanged by five well-hung blokes in the parlour without screaming…not unless she wanted to work again. Mario wrinkled his nose from the memory of the last bukkake shoot. He despised them. Too many sweaty, grunting men, with cocks and balls swaying all over the place. Not really his scene. He had respect for the women to take such punishment. Hell, most of them loved the attention and if they weren’t here and being paid for it, they’d be doing it at home. Some women just weren’t fussy.

  This is more my thing…Just me and her. More of the spotlight!

  He eyed Crane, who studied the sky.

  Not too sure about him being involved in the action though…

  “Bad light,” said the director and poked a thumb upwards. “Looks like rain, too. I suggest we make a start as soon as possible. Once we get the introduction out of the way, we’ll be safe inside.”

  Crane headed down the path that led through a small garden. He opened a white gate and approached a silver sports car parked in the street.

  Oddball.

  A grey cloud obscured the sun, descending the street into twilight. No birds sang from the bushes bordering the property, nor did anyone walk down the pavement. In the silence, Mario put his hands in his pockets, trying to shake the feeling of unease that stabbed like pins in his stomach.

  Quiet day. Feels like there’s only the two of us here.

  He dismissed the thought. He knew people lived in the houses on either side. On one occasion, they’d had to cut a scene due to a baby crying in the background.

  Just the weather bringing me down, I suppose. Need to concentrate.

  Crane returned from the vehicle holding a compact video camera. The side panel had been opened, revealing the screen. He fidgeted with the controls.

  “Should be fine, sir,” he said. “I seem to be picking things up nice and clear.”

  “Mr. Crane, why do you keep calling me “sir”?”

  The director glanced up and grinned. His wrinkles deepened.

  “Why, politeness!” He held up the camera. “Nothing complicated with this one. No script. Just follow my lead and improvise. And remember, one take for reality!”

  Mario took a deep breath. “I’ll try my best.”

  Showtime.

  Crane strode past him and stopped at the front door.

  “And action,” he said. He pressed a button on the camera, and a red light blinked on beside the lens. The image of the door appeared on the small screen. “This is the place. I’m here with my good friends Mario. Say hello, Mario.” The director turned the camera around.

  Mario waved and said a quick greeting.

  Crane returned to the door.

  “We’re here to visit a lovely girl who we met this morning. Deary wants to make it in the industry, so we’re here to give her a little audition. Isn’t that right, Mario?”

  “Sure is,” said the actor. “Quite a looker, this one. Let’s get in there.”

  “Indeed,” said Crane and knocked on the door. He stepped back and held up the camera. Seconds later, a click sounded, and the door swung open. Krystelle stood in a white blouse, her blonde hair falling about her shoulders. The denim of her miniskirt clung to her thighs, and high-heeled shoes highlighted the curve of her calves. She smiled.

  “Good afternoon, Krystelle,” said an eager Crane. “You remember us, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do,” she said. “Come in.”

  “This one doesn’t wait long, does she?” said Mario, slipping into the role. Crane directed the camera at him, and Mario winked.

  Nothing too dramatic.

  He based his reality character on a builder who’d remodelled his apartment. He was a simple man, all swearing and bravado. Such an easy character to play, and the people who liked this stuff got off on it. After all, isn’t this want they all want to be? A sexual predator, hunting a willing prey? No one wanted to watch a gentleman. They wanted to see a girl get a good fucking, plain and simple.

  Krystelle moved aside and the men entered. As she closed the door behind them, Crane performed the obligatory shot down her body, lingering on her legs and skirt.

  “Very nice,” he said. “You don’t mind me filming do you?”

  Krystelle shook her head. “I guess not.”

  “I can’t believe how stunning you are,” Crane continued. “And you say you’ve never done anything like this before?”

  She bit her bottom lip, giggled, and shook her head again.

  Mario nodded.

  She’s good.

  “Well, lead the way,” said Crane, “and we can have a little chat about your potential career.”

  Krystelle walked through the hall, with Crane’s camera directed at her plump bottom all the way. They entered a modestly furnished lounge. Mario sat on the sofa, while Crane sat in a chair opposite.

  “You go and sit with Mario,” said Crane, watching her move. The girl opened her legs for a second before she sat, offering the camera a teasing flash of the contents of her skirt. The girl knew her stuff.

  “How old are you, Krystelle?” asked Crane.

  “Nineteen.”

  Mario grinned. Twenty-four, actually.

  “And do you have a boyfriend?”

  Krystelle twizzled a lock of her hair. “Yeah…”

  “And does he know about this?” Crane kept his gaze locked to the screen, not even looking up.

  “No…but he won’t see it, will he?”

  “Certainly not,” said Crane. “This is just a test shot, and you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Okay?”

  “I guess.”

  “Now, sweetheart, if you’d like to stand up again? You have gorgeous legs…”

  Krystelle did as instructed.

  Mario sat back, studying her. Aware that he remained in shot, he smiled, as if enjoying the show. Keeping with the fantasy, he reached forwards and stroked her thigh.

  “You don’t mind Mario touching you?” said Crane. He sat still, holding the camera steady.

  “No…” said Krystelle.

  “Nervous?”

  “A little.”

  “If you sit back, we’ll see if Mario can relax you a little. He’s a nice guy. You like Mario, don’t you?”

  She giggled again. “I guess.”

  “Good.” The director sighed. “The things I have to do in this job�
��”

  Krystelle fell back on the sofa.

  Mario frowned. Crane’s words seemed odd, and the camera was sure to have picked it up. What did he mean, the things he has to do?

  Why does he look so familiar?

  Krystelle’s hand rubbed Mario’s leg through his jeans. Her strong grip squeezed the muscle of his thigh, and her nails scratched the denim.

  Mario draped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She stroked him higher, reaching his growing bulge and massaging it.

  “You’re getting on great,” said Crane. “Mario, why not give the girl a kiss, and then we can see about getting her out of those clothes…”

  Eyes closed, Mario moved in. Krystelle accepted his tongue into her mouth. No time for sweet, delicate kisses. Giving the viewers what they wanted, Mario kissed eager and rough, not caring if he hurt her. The girl, very much the professional, rubbed him harder and faster.

  “I think I understand now, sir. Is this why you love your job so much?”

  Mario ignored his weird question, working on showing the camera who was in charge. He kissed harder, forcing Krystelle’s head back. He spread her legs, knowing what the camera captured, and touched the moist patch at the front of her underwear.

  “There you go, sir. Very entertaining!”

  Something dripped onto Mario’s face. He blinked.

  “Keep going, sir!”

  More struck his cheek, and Mario pulled back. Removing his hand from inside Krystelle’s skirt, he touched his face. His fingers came away bloody.

  “What the…?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Krystelle. “I can’t work like this…”

  Mario looked up, and the actress’s eyes exploded in a fountain of dark blood. He raised his hands too late, and the sticky, red mess splattered his face and chest. He jumped back and cried out.

  Laurie’s corpse flopped back on the sofa, her legs still open. The white cotton of her knickers also bloomed a sickly red. Blood seeped around the elastic and poured onto the sofa.

  “Christ,” screamed Mario and leapt away.

  “Very good, sir,” said Worth and threw the camera down. “Turns out I have some acting talent, too! The management will enjoy watching that.”

  Mario fled from the room, knocking open the door and pounding into the hall.

  “You can’t leave yet, Mr. Fulcinni,” Worth called after him. “We have more to come!”

  Mario slid to a halt at the front door and grasping the golden handle, pulled it wide. He expected the street to be gone, finding the corridor at Metus House. His memory had splashed back into his mind, and he anticipated the head games to come…

  The street had indeed gone, but the kaleidoscope that greeted him was no corridor.

  12

  The room matched the size of the cavern, with a high ceiling and a perimeter hidden in darkness. The floor contained a wide circle, full of dazzling tiles that shone red, blue or green.

  Mario raised his hand to his eyes to block the glare and stepped over the threshold.

  His footsteps echoed on the black, lacquered floor as he walked around the colourful circle. The size of a tennis court, the psychedelic mosaic dominated the room. At its centre lay a pit, around three metres in diameter. The whole design looked like an eye.

  Mario stopped in the silence and glanced back. The door from which he’d entered had vanished, leaving only the smooth wall behind. He shook his head and proceeded to walk around the tiles.

  Quiet. Alone. Time to think my way out of this.

  On the far side, he gazed up at four LCD televisions fixed to the wall. All were turned off and stared back with blank faces.

  Mario sensed another of Worth’s imminent games and quickened his pace before the fun began. Keeping close to the wall, he burst into a run.

  There has to be another door. Has to be! If I can get out in time, get beneath their radar…

  He thought of them in the plural. It had been easy to point his confusion and anger at Worth; just one man who could be grabbed, shaken and struck. A place of this magnitude and dark mystery needed more than a lone guide to operate. The blonde henchman for one, and the elusive management, handing down their decrees like gods and watching the drama unfold. What act was this? Two? Act three closes with a death or a marriage, Mario remembered from drama class. He had no intentions of either.

  Find the damn door!

  He ran faster, feet pounding the hard floor and echoing. He stopped, back at the televisions.

  There are no doors. Only the hole.

  He turned to face the bright circle again, reluctantly intrigued. He’d been manoeuvred around the games of the House board by board by unseen players.

  Nowhere else to go but down the hole, like Alice after the rabbit.

  Mario closed his eyes, tired of Wonderland.

  The noise of static burst into the quiet.

  Mario flinched and turned around.

  The television on the far right had switched on, its screen filled with an electrical snowstorm. Mario stepped closer to the source of the hiss, gazing up. The snow eased, revealing the dark void of space. Worth’s face appeared, staring back. He studied Mario with his brown eyes, the occasional flicker of static lending them an extra bright malevolence.

  “Mr. Fulcinni,” said the guide from the speaker. He flashed a dry smile. “Where have we run off to?”

  Mario sighed and bowed his head. The fear, the running, the sense of…eternity, had taken their toll. The endless night had added weights to his limbs and heart.

  “Run rabbit run!” said Worth. “Why are the young so slow to learn these days? Why, when I was a boy a clip round the ear from my father was all I needed. Running, sir, gets you nowhere. I hoped you’d have learned that for yourself by now, but you never were a bright spark…”

  “Why are you doing this?” said Mario. “No one pays for this! Just…just let me go.” He swallowed. “Please.”

  Worth stroked his moustache and looked off screen.

  “Why are we doing this, the actor asks… Until you find the answer to that, sir, I guess we’ll be enjoying your company a little bit longer.”

  Madness circled Mario like a tiger among the trees.

  “I keep doing what you say, even when I don’t want to or know what I’m doing,” said Mario. He sat on the floor, defeated. “So why haven’t you let me go?”

  The picture distorted and split. For a moment, twin Worths stared out before merging back together.

  “Because you haven’t learned yet! You try my patience, sir, you really do.” He smiled. “But I like you. And because of that, I’ve decided to give you a moment’s break. Sit back and relax.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” said Mario. “There’s no way out.”

  “Patience, patience. The way out isn’t yours to find.”

  Worth raised his hand. He held a remote control and pressed a button.

  “There are other people who haven’t learned yet…”

  Sensing movement behind him, Mario looked back and climbed to his feet.

  The tiles traded colours, reminding Mario of the dance floor in a retro seventies disco he knew. The ground throbbed, and a hum resonated from the centre of the room.

  No. Mario staggered back. Not more machines…

  A platform eased into sight, rising from the depths of the round pit. A figure, dressed in black, lay on its side, facing away from Mario. The platform slowed to a stop.

  “How touching,” said Worth. “Our players reunited once more.”

  The figure moaned and rolled over.

  “Jesus,” said Mario. “Kerry?”

  She lay on her back, passed out. Her suit had gone, replaced with a tight, black uniform. A hat was set on her head, concealing her hair.

  She groaned in her slumbers once more.

  “Miss Foster!” Worth called. “Time to rise and shine. You have your wish! It’s time for you to play…”

  First her past.

  Now her
present.

  “Kerry,” Mario called. “Don’t move!”

  The tiles continued to swap and change, cycling the colours. Red-blue-green. Blue-green-red.

  “Miss Foster,” said Worth again. “I don’t know. You try and give them what they want and they stay sleeping.” He sighed.

  Kerry’s eyelids fluttered. Her arms flopped out by her sides and pressed against the platform. Her head rose a few inches. “Wha…?”

  “There we are,” said Worth, clapping his hands. “All awake now!”

  “Don’t move,” Mario shouted. “Stay down.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Worth. “He’s no fun. We have work to do.”

  Kerry sat up, her head sluggish and hanging down. A red band had been placed on her upper right arm. It displayed a black swastika in a white circle.

  Mario gazed up at the screen.

  Worth looked back at him. “I agree. A Nazi is a little…extreme, but the management found it amusing.”

  Kerry tilted her head towards the men. “Where…where…am I?”

  “Ah, the sedative has worn off,” said Worth. “If you feel you’re with us, kindly stand, Miss Foster. We shall discuss the present circumstances of your life before we begin. I do hope it’s as illuminating as your past!”

  Mario stepped forwards. “Stay down. If he wants you to stand, that’s the last thing you should do.” He approached the edge of the multicoloured circle.

  “Mr. Fulcinni!” Worth roared, the volume of the television spiking. “I really wouldn’t do that.”

  Mario halted. Kerry had stood, and wobbled on her feet. The uniform fit with her sharp features and cold eyes.

  “Take your break, sir,” said Worth. “Sit this one out. It doesn’t concern you.” He looked up, focused on Kerry. “Now Miss Foster, you finally get your wish. Your next room. Let’s assess the current situation, shall we?” He cleared his throat. “Since joining SM Pharmaceuticals, young executive Kerry Foster has risen through the ranks to become a partner in the firm as well as a manager. Tough and uncompromising, Kerry is the main driving force behind our many corporate takeovers. In her free time away from the boardroom, Kerry enjoys fine wine and classical music. That sound accurate?”

  Kerry staggered, and her shiny boots stopped close to the edge of the platform.