The Immersive Escape - A Screenplay

FADE IN:

A cheesy PowerPoint presentation, complete with corporate transitions between slides. The slides are of various rooms that the characters are going to encounter and stock footage of happy people in brightly coloured escape rooms.. There is also a very officious voice over intercut with footage of the characters making their way into the escape room / office:

POWER-POINT PRESENTATION

DIANNE BOLUS: Hello. Here at CSC we believe that Escape Rooms are more than fright or flight. They can be a tool for pushing boundaries and understanding limits.

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE RECEPTION - MORNING

In flashback: Nine people wait in the lobby: five women and four men. When a final woman dashes through the front doors of the reception they all enter the lift together. The doors take a while to shut.

CUT TO:

POWER-POINT PRESENTATION

DIANNE BOLUS: Through cognitive mastery we can push people beyond what they thought possible. Through controlled stress we can understand people's breaking points and identify their vulnerabilities through social cohesion and erosion techniques. 

CUT TO:

INT. LIFT - MORNING

Nine people are crammed inside the lift: EMMA, showing signs of claustrophobia; NATALIE, an overweight middle-manager; PHIL, chubby and obsequious; DEBBIE, quiet and tall, observant; FIONA, short, hair and wearing glasses; PAUL, wears a ponytail and still thinks it's cool to do so; NINA has curly hair and a buoyant personality; JEFF who wears glasses and keeps his opinions to himself and then there is STEVE.

The lift stops in a jarring manner and stays in one place for twenty seconds before the door finally opens. Emma looks relieved to be out of the lift and Phil genuflects as she exits. Debbie tells him to get out the fucking lift.

CUT TO:

POWER-POINT PRESENTATION

DIANNE BOLUS: There are seven rooms to escape from. The data taken from today's exercise will help when we push this out to the corporate world. Imagine: the office as an escape room with team building the ultimate game. 

CUT TO:

INT. 4TH FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

The office is barely 30 feet by 30; the walls a dysentery brown with a pink frieze running in the middle; the CSC Logo stamped time and time again like a crude strip cartoon. The lifts are behind the group. As soon as the last person leaves it (STEVE) the lift doors suddenly close, leaving no trace of their existence. The room is entirely empty except for a table.

Everyone walks around it. There is a simple door bell randomly stuck on it. A single post-it note is affixed underneath with the words: “PrEss Me!” in erratic handwriting, scrawled using a blue biro that looked as if it was close to running out. Steve presses the button. The room goes black and the PowerPoint presentation is switched on, projected on to the far wall.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: The immersive escape

INT. 4TH FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

Everyone is watching the PowerPoint presentation still.

DIANNE BOLUS: This is the Orientation room and you have eight hours to reach the end point. The time starts when this message finishes. Good luck!

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 1 - ORIENTATION

The message stops and the lights strobe for 10 seconds before flaring phosphorous white. When the lights dim back to normal the workers can see four doors; one in each corner of the room. 

STEVE: Maybe we should split up?

PAUL: That’s a crap idea. You’ve obviously never seen any horror movies.

STEVE: Of course, I have.

Paul prods Steve in the shoulder.

PAUL: Well, maybe you should try all of the doors in turn. If you don’t come back from one then obviously that’s not the one to take.

DEBBIE: You first.

Phil whirls around to confront Debbie but Natalie interrupts him.

NATALIE: We all need to do this systematically. Take each door in turn and follow where it takes us.

JEFF: And if it takes us to a trap-room then what?

FIONA: What’s a trap room?

PAUL: Ah, come on. There aren’t any trap rooms. (Points to the far right door.) Let’s just pick that door over there.

Everyone walks over to the right hand corner of the office and through the door.  The corridor is totally black in front of them. There is still light behind them but as everyone walks further on that light is turned off. The door shuts behind them.

PHIL: Fucking brilliant. 

PAUL: Don’t say a word, Jeff. We just need to feel our way out, there has to be a way out.

It takes them a while but they find themselves back in the same room again. They all look at each other.

                                                                                                                                                CUT TO:

INT. 4TH FLOOR 2nd OFFICE - MORNING

Jeff looks back to the corridor but there is no door, just a blank wall. Jeff shrugs and walks to the door opposite and stops.

JEFF: You do realise that we have no real way of knowing whether this IS the same room… I mean, you could  all wait for me to walk round again but what if I don’t… What if the door closes behind me and this WAS the right way out. We have to keep together. We have to try another door!

Everyone follows Jeff through another door. Again the door closes behind them and they fumble their way to the end of the tunnel. They end up in an exact replica of the room before. This time the lights are dimmer.

CUT TO:

INT. 4TH FLOOR 3RD OFFICE - MORNING

The door closes once more behind them and they choose the third door… With the same results. The fourth door leads to the same conclusion; a room so familiar, slightly dimmer bulbs but with a dampness in the air.

CUT TO:

INT. 4TH FLOOR 4TH OFFICE - MORNING

Everyone looks around to see what is going on. NINA notices there is something wrong.

NINA: Has anyone seen Steve?

The rest look around with no luck.

EMMA: It’s not as if he could be hiding anywhere.

DEBBIE: Maybe we lost him in one of the corridors.

FIONA: Yeah, but which one? I mean when was the last time any of us did a head count?

PHIL: (Tersely) A head count? What is this, primary school?

PAUL: Well, this was all about Orientation. I guess that Steve failed that exercise. Maybe we pick him up at the end.

DEBBIE: Has anyone else noticed the door over there?

At the far end of the office, where the lift was in the previous room, is another door.  The eight people run over to it and try the handle. The door opens but there is just another wall behind.

PAUL: What the fuck? This is crazy!

NATALIE: This is an escape room, did you really expect it to be easy? What we need to do is stop making assumptions and search. There is a way out of here, but it's not going to be obvious.

They search every wall for clues, even Paul. Fiona is more pragmatic. She searches the door and then the table.

EMMA: What have you found, Fiona?

FIONA: Look - on the door. Doesn’t that look like a place for a handle to go… There’s a hole with four smaller drill holes around it… and look on the table! There’s now a screwdriver there…

NINA: Wow! Check out Fiona! That’s a great feat of observation. I would never have worked that out!

NATALIE: Give it a try then, Fi. 

Fiona looks at Jeff and winces. Fiona picks up the slightly rusted screwdriver and tries undoing the screws on the door handle. The screwdriver slips a couple of times and nicks her hand, drawing blood. 

Phil snatches it from her, takes the door handle off and places it over the newly found holes. He then screws it into place. It fits. The group cheers, some genuinely but others, like Paul and Natalie just make a sarcastic WHOOP WHOOP gesture. The door opens to another corridor and leads down a slope to yet another room.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 2 - Collaboration

INT. 3RD FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

This office is exactly the same as the preceding, albeit with dimmer lights and a slightly mankier tone.

FIONA: (sucking her finger where it bled) So how did that actually work?

JEFF: It's a double-acting, double-hinged door.

EMMA: (laughs, good-natured) Oh, is that what it is?

PHIL: Like you know what he’s talking about!

DEBBIE: Shut the fuck up, Phil!

JEFF: (undeterred) Basically, it divides the space immediately behind the door with a wedge-shaped partition. When the door swings one way, it blocks the other. Fascinating stuff… 

Nina: (whispers to Natalie) Not the only thing that swings both ways…

JEFF: (to Fiona, ignoring Nina completely) Is your finger alright?

FIONA: It tingles a bit, but it’s ok.

PAUL: Has anyone else noticed we’re in almost exactly the same room as before? As all the rooms before?

PHIL: It’s either cutting corners or it's down to an absolute lack of imagination.

The room looks more dishevelled than the last. The lights are gloomier with a bluish tinge. There is more of a musty smell and the walls had a reddish tinge to them. The floor is dusty and there are distinct footprints in the dust. Again, there were no doors and no discernible way of getting out. 

NATALIE: Split up, search the walls.

Everyone takes a systematic approach to searching. Running their hands along the walls, being careful to mind the mould spores. After a couple of minutes, a distinct click is heard. A narrow vertical gap appears in the opposite wall. Everyone runs over to the gap and as they do so it disappears completely.

PHIL: Bloody strange. It's more of a tease than you, Debbie! 

DEBBIE: Fuck off, Phil.

Debbie takes a step back. A click is heard again and the door opens another inch.  They all shout at Debbie:

EVERYONE: Don’t move!

EMMA: It’s pressure sensitive….

Emma looks down to where Debbie is standing

EMMA: Look! She’s standing right where those footsteps end!

Everyone sees the footsteps. Jeff spots another set of footprints further off and stands on the last pair. The door opens further. A light beckons from beyond.Natalie runs for the doorway. The door pivots against her weight and Natalie falls forward and down. There is only a void beneath her, like a lift shaft. She disappears into the darkness. A beat later, we hear the muffled thud. Debbie is about to move from her spot in panic.

JEFF: Don’t move! Whatever you do, don’t move. This might be our only chance!

Jeff tells the others to find the other set of footprints. Paul stands on one set and Emma on the last. The door opens fully. Phil stands on the edge of the new doorway and is unnerved.

PHIL: Somehow there’s a floor now.  It looks like it’s folded down from the ceiling when all the pressure plates were occupied.

He tentatively puts his weight into the new corridor and it holds.

PHIL: I’m alright now, not sure what you guys are going to do!

DEBBIE: It would be worth stepping off this just to see you fall, Phil!

JEFF: This isn’t helping at all, guys! If the rest of you step into the corridor and make  your way down it then the rest of us can try to make a run for it.

PHIL: That is something I’d pay money to see!

NINA: Fuck off, Phil!

JEFF: If I’m right then whoever is standing in the last position will act as a stabilising factor for the rest to run. We can then hold the doors for Emma to dash across.

Emma looks very nervous.

EMMA: Why me?

JEFF: I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s because you were the last one.

PHIL: And what if you’re wrong?

PAUL: What the fuck do you care? You’re safe anyway.

PHIL: Good point… get your running shoes on, Emma. I’ve got the popcorn ready.

EMMA; Shut the fuck up!

Fiona and Nina exchange a look. Phil, Fiona and Nina carefully step into the corridor.

JEFF: (to Paul and Debbie) Ready? 3…2…1… Run!

The three of them run to the door and make it without a fuss. They’re out of breath but all eyes are now on Emma. They all back away, halfway down the corridor. Jeff looks at Emma.

JEFF: It’s now or never, kid. We’ll do our best to hold back the doors. I won’t leave you!

Emma nods. She dashes for the doorway and makes it with no problems at all. The doorway stays open. Emma is out of breath and standing just inside the corridor smiling.

CUT TO:

INT. CORRIDOR - MORNING

Emma takes another step. The floor gives way beneath her and she falls before springing back up like a trapdoor. The corridor starts to close in around them, forcing everyone to the bottom doorway.Debbie is near the end of the corridor.

DEBBIE: Watch out!

The door is sliding shut. The six remaining barely make it in time to the new room.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 3 - ASSESSMENT

INT. 3RD FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

The same room design as before. But like a demented, colour blind designer it’s darker with a cloying denseness. 

Fiona is now scratching her hand. Jeff takes hold of it to look at it. The hand is inflamed and an angry red. Fiona shrugs it off, tearfully.

The remaining six stare around the room. They see the table in the middle of the room as before. Now there are 6 square boxes, each with wires coming out the bottom leading somewhere. 

They walk round the table and scrutinise each of the boxes. All are fixed firmly and finished in a mahogany effect. On top of each are two fist sized holes.

Jeff doesn’t even hesitate. He thrusts his hands into the holes and everyone just stares at him.

JEFF: Nothing to report yet… wait a minute… There’s a slight tingling; more of an itch. If this is as bad as it gets then…

Phil shrugs and plunges his hands into the holes, as does Debbie. But there’s something different happening.

DEBBIE: Are your hands hurting at all?

PHIL: Mine are uncomfortable; like a sprain or an ache; but not hurting.

Jeff shakes his head, concerned over Debbie’s hands. He can see a logical progression.

JEFF: Mine’s more like pins and needles; but I can see where this is going. It’s going to get more unpleasant the further it goes on, but I get the horrible feeling no door is going to open unless all of us get… stuck in.

Paul and Nina quickly put their hands in the holes. The pain intensifies. It’s just Fiona that is left. She’s looking at the hand where her injury is. It’s obvious that it’s been troubling her more than she’s been letting on.

PAUL: For fucks sake! HURRY UP! I don’t know how much more I can take!

NINA: (Tries to take her hands out) We’re trapped! I can’t take any more, it’s too painful. Hurry up, you bitch! None of us can leave until you finish it.

FIONA: I can’t!! I can’t!

Everyone is shouting at Fiona to stick her hands in the holes until she finally breaks down. Screaming, she thrusts her hands in the box.

Immediately a door opens behind everyone and they are released from the boxes. There are no wounds anywhere on their hands. Phil launches himself at Fiona but Jeff shoves him back.

PHIL: (To Fiona) I’ll get you for this. (To Jeff) You do that again and I’ll end you too.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 4 - PERFORMANCE REVIEW

INT. 3RD FLOOR 2ND OFFICE - MORNING

There is no connecting corridor, just an identically imperfect room. The same soul-numbing decor, the same depressing mildew stink, just more pungent. Viscous liquid streaks the wallpaper, like residue from a smoking room after a heavy session.

Fiona stares at her hands and then at Jeff. Jeff shrugs after looking at it again. The wound is definitely infected and the veins in her arms are starting to turn black. 

Debbie looks around. No doorway again, even the one behind them had shut tight. The floor was cleaner this time; so no clues to be found there either. The upper walls are out of reach and no one really wants to touch the walls just in case they find out what is dripping down them.

Nina: I wonder what’s going on?

PAUL: What does it matter?

PHIL: We’re being picked off one by one. That’s what’s fucking going on.

DEBBIE: But why? It doesn’t make sense.

JEFF: What’s the context?

PAUL: Context? Who gives a fuck! I’m going to knock your fucking block off in a minute.

DEBBIE: Try it and you’ll have the rest of us to deal with.

PAUL: If you weren’t a woman…

FIONA: (weakly) And if you were more of a man, Paul, we might not be in this position.

JEFF: Look, this really isn’t helping. I heard rumors, right? There might be more to this… The boss lady, DIANNE BOLUS herself, big chief CEO supposedly had a breakdown not so long ago, right? She went away for a while to… find herself? She came back and then formed this new wing of CSC….

DEBBIE: Yeah. I heard something about that. There’s been rumours of a secret development for ages but it’s been very hush-hush. Then all of a sudden I get a letter saying I’ve been promoted to this new position to test this new vision of hers.

JEFF: But what if there was no finding of self? What if she had an L. Ron Hubbard moment on the road to Damascus?

PHIL: El Ray who?

JEFF: You need to read a book once in a while. Ones without pop-up centrefolds.

PHIL: You pretentious, jumped up arsehole. I’m going to crucify you in front of your bloody harem.

Phil lunges at Jeff but then something stops him in his tracks, something that no one else can see. 

PHIL: Well strike a fucking light… it’s just opened!

Everyone turns to see another door opening and this time Phil leads the way, but not without barging past Jeff as hard as he can.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 5 - LEADERSHIP

INT. 2ND FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

The door shuts right behind the last person. All the lights suddenly go out. Nina screams whilst Fiona moans in despondency. 

PAUL AND PHIL: (almost in unison) For fucks sake, what now?!

A hissing noise, as if a tannoy has been turned on. Various snippets of dialogue can be heard.

JEFF: (Slightly mechanical) There’s only going to be one way out of here… Only the strong can get out of here.

JEFF: (more emotive)That wasn’t me speaking! 

Other voices are heard: 

VOICE 1: The cut on your hand is God's way of punishing you, Fiona…. You should have been looking out for Steve.

VOICE 2: (To Nina) Paul and Phil are going to kill you if they can… You know that to be true… you have to get to them first…

VOICE 3: Phil knows… Everyone knows about you, Paul. Don’t try to hide it any longer, You think that by acting tough you can…

Voice 4: You’re not half the manager Nat was, Debbie. You’re not half the woman Nat was either. Too many people have died here… The reason you’re still single is that you’re far too masculine!

All of the voices merge into a cacophony; swirling around their heads. It is Phil who cries out first:

PHIL: Fuck no! Fuck NO! FUCK NO!

The lights suddenly come back on. Phil turns to Jeff and, again, lunges for him. Jeff is ready. Phil takes a swing at Jeff. Jeff sidesteps and slams an elbow to the side of his head, hitting him hard. Phil falls hard. 

Silence.

Paul takes a step forward but Debbie has knelt down to take Phil’s pulse.

DEBBIE: He’s dead…Phil’s dead! 

A new door opens behind them.

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 6 - SUBJUGATION

INT. 2ND FLOOR OFFICE - MORNING

Everyone stares at Phil’s prone body. Jeff looks numbed by it. Fiona is crying. Paul looks murderously at Jeff. Debbie walks over to Jeff and puts her hand on his shoulder.

DEBBIE: He attacked you. It’s not your fault. 

PAUL: Like fuck! He didn’t have to hit Phil like that! You could have tripped him, kicked him in the fucking nuts…

NINA: And what would you have done in the meantime?You were getting ready to knock the shit out of him as well…

PAUL: Yeah, and I’m still going to!

Paul leaps at Jeff. Jeff doesn’t put up any defense. He is still in shock. Paul puts his hands around Jeff’s throat and drags him through the open door.

Debbie and Nina try to stop him.

CUT TO:

INT. STAIRWELL - MORNING

The stairwell is cavernous, cold. Metal railings line the edge of the stairs leading to a long drop. Only the red glow of emergency lights illuminates the surroundings.

Paul tries to push Jeff over the metal banister but can’t. Nina and Debbie impede his every move. Paul slaps Nina away. This snaps Jeff back into the moment. 

Jeff stamps hard on the front of Paul's ankle and scrapes his foot down, forcing him to let go. Paul shouts in pain and throws off Debbie and Nina easily before lunging at Jeff again.

Jeff sidesteps in such a way that he trips Paul and Paul’s momentum carries him over the metal railing down the central stairwell, smashing against the stairs. His ragdoll body falls several storeys below them.

Jeff looks at Debbie and Nina.

JEFF: Thank you. (Turns to Fiona) Fiona? Are you ok?

Fiona is leaning against the closed door behind them, smiling weakly. Blood dribbles out of her nose. Her legs suddenly give way and she slides down the wall as if her strings have been cut. It is just Jeff, Debbie and Nina now. 

CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: 7 - OFFBOARDING

INT. STAIRWELL - MORNING

Jeff, Debbie and Nina continue to walk slowly down the stairs. The dark crimson emergency lights are disorientating, and a drip-drip -dripping noise seems to come from everywhere.. Debbie takes hold of Jeff’s hand and Nina follows suit. Foul looking water cascades down the central stairwell like someone wringing out a sponge. The PA system sparks on again.

DIANNE BOLUS: I knew you three would be the last. You’re almost at the end now and soon you will have the revelation that was given to me; and you will finally understand…

The floor becomes sticky underneath. With every step the inevitability grows; a crushing sense of déjà vu that only true horror can bring about. 

CUT TO:

INT. BASEMENT - MORNING

They finally reach the bottom of the stairs. There is Paul’s body, limp and as lifeless with one arm stuck out like a drunken signpost. Jeff follows its direction and sees one lone light shining in the distance.

NINA: (hopeful) Is that the way out?

DEBBIE: I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky.

They walk closer and the familiar dripping noise gets more pronounced. Nina tries turning back but Debbie and Jeff urge her on. 

They reach a pool of liquid, a viscous, crimson dew-pond. Kneeling at the far edge, staring at them, is a woman.

This is DIANNE BOLUS, Chief Executive Officer of CSC. She is dressed in a ‘power-suit’; double-breasted with shoulder-pads and a cream blouse and tight long skirt. She has her hands cupped in the liquid, drinking from the pool like it was a natural spring. Her face is beatific and horrific at the same time. 

She looks at Debbie, Nina and Jeff and smiles in recognition. 

DIANNE BOLUS: My children... my children returned to me… drink! Drink!

Behind her, six shapes slowly manifest from the darkness; six silhouettes. Nina sobs as she recognises them. Then she walks into the liquid and kneels as if being baptised. 

Jeff can only look at it happening. He struggles to move but finds that he can’t. Debbie is still gripping his hand, hard. Diane leans down to kiss Nina.

Jeff groans in helplessness, wanting so much to turn away but can’t. Debbie lets her hand fall from his. She walks over to Dianne, through the crimson pool and embraces Diane with a perverse passion. 

Nina rises out of the pool. Nina stands with Debbie behind Dianne as the rest of her brood walk out fully into the light. 

Emma, Natalie, Phil, Paul, Fiona and Steve all stand now behind Dianne.

JEFF: Take me then. Take ME! I’m yours.

Dianne shakes her head slowly and smiles. 

FADE OUT:

A Touch Of Mink - an original screenplay

EXT. AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE - EARLY MORNING

Five individuals break into the agricultural college. Close to dawn. They are organised; with keys to the various rooms. Three men (NORMAN, TOM and NEIL) and two women (KELLY and SUE) all dressed in dark clothes. Their faces are covered up.  SUE and Tom split off into another building which is set aside from the main building. The other three run quietly into the breeding pens. Kelly and Norman carry bolt cutters. 

INT. BREEDING PENS. EARLY MORNING

They enter the building. There is a lot of noise coming from further inside.

NORMAN (Whispering harshly): What a fucking stench!

KELLY: Shut the fuck up. Keep talking to a minimum! We want to be out as soon as possible!

They can see eight cages in front, all full of mink. The mink are hissing and writhing, aware of the intruders. Their backs hunched.

NEIL: Why are they so quiet? Surely they should be squealing?

SUE: They all had their vocal cords cut; it’s more peaceful that way.

Sue walks to one of the cages, urges the other Norman to take the other pair of bolt cutters. They open seven of the cages. After opening each cage they step back and allow the mink to run out into the wild. As they attempt to open the last they hear a scream and shouts of horror coming from the other team. 

The remaining mink leaps at the metal of the cage, stunning the two men. One of them bites Sue's hand. The other mink escapes, making it hard for the men to help Sue. The two men struggle.  The mink finally releases its jaws and runs off. There are still shouts coming from the other building and the two men run off. Sue looks at the opened cages and then at her hand.

CUT TO:

INT. LABORATORY - EARLY MORNING

A makeshift laboratory in a renovated farm-building. A large cage; the type of desks found in a college laboratory. There are bags of feed; tubs of chemicals.

The two men run inside and see the mangled body of Kelly. Her throat has been torn out and there are bloodied furrows ripped into her body. The opened cage is covered in blood and Tom is cowering in the corner, staring at bloody footprints.  The bottom of the door has been torn to pieces. 

In the distance the sun can be seen to start rising.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

TITLE CARD: A TOUCH OF MINK

The song: Good Morning Freedom by Blue Mink starts playing.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

EXT. CAMPSITE - NIGHT

A family of three share a Lichfield Challenger tent. Mum and dad in their own sleeping bag, the young child in its own, reading a “Scream” horror comic. A small WH Smith Radio Cassette CR208 can be seen and is playing the final bars of “Good Morning Freedom”. There is a Coleman light next to the radio. (All of which should scream ‘1980’s’.)

RADIO ANNOUNCER: And that was Good Morning Freedom sung by Peters & Lee. Next up…

The radio is turned off by the mother.

MOTHER: We’ve got a big day tomorrow, dearest. Off to sleep!

CHILD: Night, night mummy. Night, night, daddy.

Both the parents say goodnight and the mother turns the light out. Silence. Complete silence. Rustling sounds are heard. Then chittering and hissing are faint but rapidly get louder. A mixture of squealing and squeaking is then heard, closer. The child wakes up the mum and dad as shapes press on the canvas of the tent. They hear screams coming from outside. The tent is RIPPED OPEN and their screams join the others.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAMPSITE - MORNING

Parts of the campsite are a complete mess. Tents torn to bloody shreds whilst others are untouched, empty. There are lots of police. Lots of the police tape and a line of demarcation around the entire area. By-standers and local journalists jostle against the tape.

Two of them are WOOD and BYRNE. Wood is stern, thin, but looks vulnerable with sandy, wispy hair; badly coiffed. He wears small, round John Lennon style granny-specs. Byrne is a larger fellow with short, dark frizzy hair. He’s keen, sharp and disarmingly humorous. 

They are talking to one of the locals, an old man, by the cordon.

WOOD: Did you know anyone in the campsite?

LOCAL: I’d seen one of them last night. They had a lovely daughter. Crying shame!

BYRNE: What happened, do you think?

LOCAL: Not a clue. Haven’t seen anything like this for a…

The local stops himself. A police officer notices the two reporters and motions to them.

POLICEMAN : We don’t want you stirring things up round here. I know you’re just doing your job but now is not the time to do it. There will be an official statement later on. For now, just leave us time to process everything.

Byrne has been watching over the policeman's shoulder. He can see a couple of tents in the distance that haven’t been touched.

BYRNE: So why do you think this maniac chose those particular families to attack? Was this a series of random killings or was there a more arcane motive behind it?

POLICEMAN: That was no fucking maniac. That was an anim…

2ND POLICEMAN (SHOUTS): That’s enough, constable!

1ST POLICEMAN: You’ll have to wait for the official statement. Now clear off, the pair of you otherwise I’ll have you done for obstructing a Police Officer.

The two journalists look at each other, shrug their shoulders and walk off down the hill.

CUT TO:

INT. BYRNE’s CAR - MORNING

Byrne is driving, Wood looks at his notes.

BYRNE: I still don’t know how you get away with it!

WOOD: Pure charm, my friend.

BYRNE: Right from the school of Columbo, no doubt.

WOOD (Mimic’s Peter Falk): Now, there’s just one more thing… They do think it’s an animal related attack.

BYRNE: Rats?

WOOD: Could be. We must be due for another James Herbert book soon… but I don’t think it’s likely.

BYRNE: What do you think that old man was going to say? I thought it sounded like it had happened before.

WOOD: Hang on a minute. You might have something there. It should be in the research notes I made before we came out.

BYRNE: Swot!

WOOD: Four eyed twat!

They both laugh as Wood rummages through the notes in his small knapsack.

WOOD: Here we go. Edith Foyle. She doesn’t live that far away, near Amberley. She complained a while ago of her sheep being attacked.

BYRNE: Amberley here we come!

CUT TO:

INT. COTTAGE KITCHEN - MID MORNING

Edith Foyle’s cottage is remote, on a hill just outside the Amberley Chalk Pits. There is no neighbour within a mile or so. Wood and Byrne sit with Edith, drinking in her kitchen. A few empty wine bottles sit on the work top.

EDITH: It was never the same. No one believed us, even when they saw the sheep. We were accused of making it all up. Burt couldn’t take it, drove him to an early grave: heart attack.

WOOD: I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Foyle. What did you say killed your sheep at the time?

EDITH (almost whispering): Mink.

BYRNE (caught off guard): MINK?

Edith nods once

BYRNE: Attacked your sheep?

Edith nods again.

WOOD (sees the wine bottles): Why don’t you tell us what happened?

EDITH: They were in the pasture. The field just beyond, over there.

(Points north)

EDITH: And it was late one evening. We could hear the sheep bleating in panic. We thought a fox was worrying them, trying to kill the lambs. Burt got dressed and went out with the shotgun. All I could hear were the sheep and Burt yelling! When I finally sees what’s happening I can’t believe it. Their fur was like bloodied silver. They ran for it after Burt tries shooting at them but they were too quick.We were lucky, they only killed four of the flock but it were never the same after that. No one believed us, and neither do you.

WOOD: We want to believe you, truly we do Mrs Foyle but we need proof.

BYRNE: If it ever happens again; and I hope to god it doesn’t; then you need to take a recording of it. Have you got a cassette recorder you can use? If not, we have a spare portable you can borrow. Here’s my telephone number. Please use it day or night should anything happen.

EDITH: Yes… I understand. Thank you for coming…

CUT TO:

EXT. NEXT TO BYRNE'S CAR - MORNING

Wood and Byrne shrug their shoulders and look back to the cottage

WOOD: It was worth a try.

BYRNE: Foiled again.

CUT TO:

INT. BYRNE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The telephone rings. BYRNE fumbles for the light. It’s on the small bedside chest of drawers next to the bed. He finds it and turns it on. He then finds the telephone and drags himself into a position where he can answer it. It is a chunky ‘80’s phone

BYRNE: (rubs his eyes whilst answering) H… hello? Who is this?

There is an almighty ruckus from the other line. Lots of squealing; clawing and scratching sounds. Very loud. 

EDITH (Whispering but bordering on hysterical): You’ve got to come and get me, Mr Byrne. They’ve come back; all those months and they’re breaking into the cottage again. It won’t be long now. You’ve got to come and get me. Save me, please. You can hear them, can’t you? They’re right outside. It won’t be long at all. I’ve recorded them, just as your partner asked, Mr Byrne. I just hope it’s of…

Sounds of wood smashing. Loud squealing now, mixed with the screams of Mrs Foyle. The line goes dead.

CUT TO:

EXT. MRS FOYLE’S FARM - EARLY MORNING

Wood and Byrne arrive at the farm. The bottom of the farmhouse door is chewed to bits. They walk inside. Mrs Foyle has been torn to shreds, blood everywhere. She has only been partially eaten. They’re both almost sick and have to put handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths. Wood looks around cautiously. Byrne finds the cassette recorder in the sink. The tape is still inside it. Just then they hear a police siren in the distance.

WOOD (Whispering urgently): Is it there? 

BYRNE: Yeah. What’s that fucking stench? I thought she drank wine not fucking horses urine!

WOOD: Who cares what it smells of! Hide the tape; we might need it!

BYRNE: Where?

WOOD: Down your pants, they’re big enough.

Byrne ejects the tape from the recorder and shoves it down his jeans and into his y-fronts.

BYRNE: I’ll shove it up your arse if you’re not careful.

Byrne and Wood listen out for the siren but it’s more distant now.

BYRNE: I think we better get the flock out of here.

WOOD: That’s a little tasteless don’t you think?

BYRNE: Do you really want to stop and talk about morality and wait for the police, or shall we drive away from the scene of the crime?

Wood nods and they carefully make their way out of the cottage and to the car. It’s starting to get light. Wood is about to get into the car when he glimpses into the distance. There is slight movement by the border fence. 

WOOD (points): What the fuck is that?

BYRNE (Looking in the same direction): Where?

WOOD: Fuck sake - there… Wait, it’s gone now. It was the size of a dog!

BYRNE: t was probably Lassie, then! Look, I really do not want to have to explain to the police what we are doing here amongst a slaughter-fucking-house! Can we go now?

Wood nods and they drive off.

CUT TO:

INT. WOOD’S HOUSE - MORNING

Wood and Byrne sit in the kitchen with a cup of tea. They’re both in shock. 

BYRNE: I killed her. Me and my damn mouth. If I hadn’t asked her to record them then she might still be alive.

WOOD: Don’t be fucking daft. Neither of us believed her. She didn’t have to stay there. But we now owe it to her to find out what the fuck is going on. 

BYRNE: Pound to a penny that those poor fucking campers suffered a similar fate; and the yokel knew something.

Wood finds a cassette player. Byrne throws him the tape. Wood looks at it and grimaces before putting it in the machine.

WOOD: So did the police too; they’re covering something up… Just how far back do these attacks go!

Wood presses Rewind and then Play. The sound is a piercing shriek; deep and powerful.

BYRNE (almost falls from his chair): What the fuck was that? Give me warning next time your voice breaks, for fuck sake!

WOOD: (Rewinds the tape to the start) Sorry!

High pitched and frantic squeals are heard, then Mrs Foyle’s frightened sobs and breathing as she dials the rotary telephone. 

MRS FOYLE: You’ve got to come and get me, Mr Byrne. They’ve come back; all those months and they’re breaking into the cottage again. It won’t be long now. You’ve got to come and get me. Save me, please. You can hear them, can’t you? They’re right outside. It won’t be long at all. I’ve recorded them, just as your partner asked, Mr Byrne. I just hope it’s of…

Byrne and Wood stare at the cassette player. Her screams are heard amongst the squeals and banging, thrashing noises. There is the sound of the cassette player being thrown and rebounding in the sink. Mrs Foyle’s screams suddenly die down and all that can be heard is the squeals of the animals. 

Then there is the frightening sound from earlier. The other squeals sound more frantic and then they suddenly get quieter before silence

BYRNE: I say again… what the fuck was that?

CUT TO:

INT. LIBRARY - AFTERNOON

Wood is sequestered in the local library, at the microfiche reader, scrolling through old local news headlines. He finds an article from 1974 about a break-in and theft from an agricultural college but few actual details. 

WOOD (to himself): Break in or break out? 

He scrolls further until he reaches another article. This is about a break-in of a mink farm in Surrey by The Animal Liberation Front who released all the mink.

WOOD (muttering to himself): What if something went wrong during the College theft? What if they wanted to hush things up?

CUT TO:

EXT. ARUNDEL WETLANDS - AFTERNOON

Byrne is with a conservationist, CLIVE, walking around Arundel Wildfowl Trust.  They’ve both got waders on. Clive has got a backpack on.

CLIVE: …Protection… Look… I wouldn’t normally be interested in talking to the press, but I’ve also had run-ins with mink recently. They’ve been on the increase ever since those bastards at the Animal Liberation Front raided that mink farm. Hypocritical sods! Free one species but fuck all the others they come in contact with… and you can quote me on that!

Byrne does his best not to show alarm at this news. He’s made the same connection as Wood did and now is anxious to learn more.

BYRNE: I think we’re going to get along famously, Clive! I’ve got a recording that I want you to hear. It’s going to be distressing but it’s vital if you can identify the species.

Byrne plays the tape, with the volume low. Clive’s mouth drops and his eyes open wide in shock and horror. He’s deeply disturbed by the last thing he hears.

CLIVE: Mink… I’ve no doubt… I’d know that anywhere! But never that frantic before!

BYRNE: But what was that last roar?

There’s another series of squeals and shrieks.

CLIVE: You can turn that thing off now, thanks. I’ve heard enough!

BYRNE: (Looking at the tape machine) But it’s off… I turned it off!

CUT TO:

EXT. THE STREET - AFTERNOON

Wood knocks on the door of a terrace house. A man answers.

WOOD : Norman Glick? I’m sorry; I don’t have much time but I need you to tell me what happened on the night of the 15th June 1974 and why you were only prosecuted for burglary for a totally unrelated situation.

CUT TO:

INT. NORMAN GLICK’S KITCHEN - AFTERNOON

Wood and Norman are in the kitchen. Norman is close to tears as he finishes recounting what happened that night. 

NORMAN: How were we to know what was there? We were told to free the mink. So we freed the fucking mink! We’d been tipped off by someone who worked in the college. Someone who knew part of what was happening there and was disgusted by the rumours.

WOOD: Did you get his name at all?

NORMAN: I found out later that his name was… Robert, something… (shakes his head suddenly) But that… thing… I never even saw it, just saw what it did to Sue.

WOOD: Only three of you were prosecuted though. There were five of you. Even if Sue sadly died, there was still the other woman… (Checks his notes) Kelly Thrower. What happened to her?

NORMAN: She… she died before the trial.

WOOD: She died? How?

NORMAN: She was bitten during the escape.

CUT TO:

EXT. ARUNDEL WETLANDS - AFTERNOON

Clive and Byrne now hear screams as they run forwards. Clive takes his backpack off and hands Byrne a can of pepper-spray. He holds another. Clive also has a hand-held air-horn.

In front they see a bird hide covered in writhing, translucent, gun-metal grey shapes. So many of them. The screams are coming from within. They both stop, unsure of what to do. Clive rummages around in his backpack and digs out a smoke bomb.

CLIVE: It pays to be prepared! I did my own research, just in case.

BYRNE: Glad you did!

Clive throws the smoke grenade at the shelter. It explodes; the bang and smoke frighten off the majority of the mink and they disperse in all directions. Four of them run towards the two men, fast. Two of them leap up at them but Byrne is ready with the pepper spray and frightens them off. A third leaps up and sinks its teeth into Byrne’s hand. Clive uses the air-horn on it. It releases its hold on Byrnr’s hand and runs away. The last one hunches its back and hisses at them before running away too. Clive looks at Byrne’s bleeding hand. 

CUT TO:

INT. NORMAN'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON

Norman is still telling Wood about the events following the break-in.

NORMAN: It all happened so quickly. It was deadly. Within a week she had organ failure; just wasted away. We thought it was rabies, a super-strain developed by the damn college but the Doctors swore blind it wasn’t. It was nothing they’d ever seen before.

WOOD: You ever find out what it was?

NORMAN: Yeah. I did my own research. I needed some kind of closure. It’s called Aleutian Disease, it was a parvovirus, whatever the fuck that is. Extreme weight loss, blood vessel inflammation and organ failure… and there is no known cure. All it took was one lousy bite.

FADE OUT:

INT. HOSPITAL WARD - EVENING

Wood rushes into the ward, after being told not to run in the corridors. He sees Byrne sitting up in bed, looking sheepish.

BYRNE: I really owe Mrs Foyle a huge apology. We were attacked by mink. MINK! They were swarming over a bird hide and if it wasn’t for Clive’s quick thinking. Clive was the Conservation chap… All of us would have been chopped meat! Sorry, I’m still high on the adrenaline. I can’t believe we survived!

Wood doesn’t respond. He can’t look Byrne in the eye. He just looks at Byrne’s wound, where he was bitten. 

BYRNE: What? Who died now? What is it? 

Wood tells Byrne what transpired with Norman, and what happened to the woman who got bitten in the mink farm raid. Up until now this has purely been in gesture and muted voices that are barely audible; then:

BYRNE: FUCK! Dirty little FUCKERS!

Everyone in the ward looks at him with dismay but Byrne is beyond caring.

BYRNE: How long have I got?

WOOD: I don’t know. Weeks, maybe?

BYRNE: We need to finish it. I don’t know how, but I don’t give a damn about the story any more. No one else should die because of this.

A man walks in; an overcoat covering most of his face. He pulls up a chair and sits next to Wood, facing Byrne. This is Robert.

ROBERT: I think I can help. 

CUT TO:

INT. PUB. EVENING

Rob is talking to Byrne and Wood. Byrne is drinking heavily, a couple of empty shot glasses next to his pint.

ROBERT: I know I should have told someone before now. I did try but it was always hushed up by the college with my reputation and job at stake.

BYRNE (slightly slurred): People were fucking dying!

ROBERT: I only recently found out. All the other incidents were hushed up. They said they were conducting their own investigations. But I wonder now whether they really bothered. If anyone found out what they’d been up to; the lengths they’d gone to alter the fur yield, the college would have faced legal action!

WOOD: Fucking hell. Is that all; and all the people that lost their lives? What about them?

BYRNE: But why now? Why us?

ROBERT: Because of what you said in the hospital… and I think I know how to get rid of them once and for all. I’ve got a plan.

CUT TO:

EXT. MRS FOYLE'S COTTAGE - NIGHT

The kitchen sits directly above the cellar. A reinforced door leads downstairs.Outside, another entrance leads directly into the cellar.

Montage of Robert, Byrne and Wood putting together a huge cage in the cellar. The police tape is still around and there is still the outline of her body in the kitchen. The rest of the cottage has been cleaned. 

The cellar door leading outside has been reinforced, apart from a makeshift tunnel. This leads to a reinforced cage. Inside the cage are frog carcases and crayfish; mice and rat guts.Bait for the mink.

The three men sit in the kitchen. Wood and Robert try not to look at the chalk outline. Byrne toasts it with the bottle of whiskey he’s holding.

Robert has bought a camping gas stove and three canisters of gas. The smell of gas is pungent. Suddenly the sound scrabbling at the outside of the cottage can be heard. They all look at each other anxiously.

BYRNE: You sure they can’t get in here? You’ve reinforced the kitchen door? Not that I care for myself, mind.

The cellar door tunnel gives out and they hear the mink squeal. They then hear the thrashing of the mink against the cage itself.

BYRNE: Got the fuckers! You sure they can’t escape?

ROBERT: I learnt the hard way what those things can escape from. Those bars are double the strength of the last lot, at least.

The sounds intensify and become extreme. There is a crashing sound from the cellar door and screeches from the mink. The thrashing sound against the cage becomes more frantic and a nightmare growl and the piercing, powerful shriek Byrne and Wood heard before.

The three of them dash to the joining door to the cellar and open it, switching on the light. It’s a charnel house; a writhing, bloody mess. The mink are being eviscerated by something impossibly large. The size of an Alsatian but sleeker; teeth tearing indiscriminately into its smaller brethren.

ROBERT (horrified): No! Fuck, please no. It can’t be! I thought it was a myth, something they made up!

The giant mink turns to the new sounds and sees the three men. It lets out another shriek and throws itself at the bars. The three of them run out into the kitchen, slamming and locking the door behind them.

BYRNE: Locking the door’s a great idea. We’re lucky it doesn’t have pockets to hide the key! 

WOOD: (Gripping Robert by the collar) What is it? What the fuck is it?

ROBERT: They wanted to create the perfect mink; gorgeous fur, denser and faster growing…

WOOD: How?

ROBERT: They studied nutritional science in order to accelerate its growth.

They hear the sounds of the cage being smashed.

BYRNE: What’s its favourite colour? Who the fuck cares! I say again: What are we going to fucking do?

Byrne looks around and sees the camping stove and canisters.

BYRNE: We cook the fucker! (points to the camping stove) Turn the gas on and light the fucking fire. The explosion should wipe the fucker out.

WOOD: And the cottage too! 

There is a thump on the door. The giant mink is throwing itself at the door in frustration and frenzy. It can then be heard chewing through the cellar door extremely quickly.

WOOD: It’s not going to hold much longer. I’ll go out and secure the cellar door outside. Stop them from escaping!

BYRNE: I’ll stop the fucker from escaping. Give me one of the bottles. I’ll hide in the larder. I’ve got my trusty fire lighters here. As soon as it gnaws through the door BANG! Toasted Mink.

Wood looks at Byrne. Wood understands what Byrne is going to do. Byrne nods and grins an evil grin.

ROBERT: I’ll put the other two canisters at different points to maximise the explosion.

Wood turns to Byrne.

WOOD: Four eyed twat.

BYRNE: Swot.

Byrne walks into the larder with the gas canister and turns it on as Wood walks out the door. 

Robert turns the valve on one and places it just away from the front door. He then runs back to the cellar door, releasing the valve on the other as he does so. He places it on the ground. The cellar door explodes outwards. The giant mink launches itself at Robert's prone body, knocking him over. It tears his throat apart. Byrne opens the door, sees the bloody mess.

BYRNE: Fuck!

Byrne slams the door as the giant mink leaps at it. It tears chunks out of the door as Byrne stares transfixed in the far corner. He grips the two ferro rods tightly. The gas seeps out from the canister. The mink charges through the splintered door. Byrne smashes the ferro rods together.

BYRNE:  I ain’t afraid of no….

Huge explosion. Flames surge into the sky, consuming the cottage. There is no sign of Wood.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE COTTAGE - NIGHT 

The fire is raging over the remains of the cottage. The blackness of the night is in sharp contrast to the purifying flames. 

“Our World” by Blue Mink fades in as the credits roll.

The immersive escape of the human condition

 The lift door stalled before opening, sending shockwaves across the nine of us. Not a great start, but it's going to get worse; it's just that none of us know it yet. There were no instrument panels in the lift so we had no way of knowing how many floors we’d traversed, or even if we moved at all; no vaguely sensual a-sexual voice reassuring us of upward motion, just the jarring revelation of an bereft office suite with a single table in the middle of the room.

Emma was the first one out of the lift; she was showing signs of claustrophobia and all of us felt her pain. Nine squashed in a lift; surely the subject of an extremely poor joke.  Even Nat let her dismount the lift first, and she was a bitch. We’d only been with each other for three minutes and it had been enough to figure out who everyone was.

Nat was obviously a middle-manager who could see the glass ceiling and let everyone else pay the price. Phil had already figured out that his best bet was to cozy up to her. He was chubby in a sadistic way and had obviously become the bully in school before anyone else tried to do it to him. Dido was a complete contrast; she was a lovely soul: quiet and observant. She made a joke: if we were stuck in the lift over a long enough period of time we might end up as diamonds in the rough. It was meant to lighten the mood for Emma, but I was the only one who got the joke.  Fiona laughed too but I could tell that she only did it out of solidarity, either that or she really was as docile as she looked. 

Paul stepped out of the lift, looked around casually and remarked that he could smell fish. When the rest of us stared at him blankly he remarked that it must have been all the cod philosophy in the lift earlier. Phil laughed at that and Nat just nodded. Debbie stared Phil and Paul down. She didn’t say a word, but it was enough. She walked over to Emma and checked to see how she was doing. Then there was Steve 

The room we were standing in didn’t make sense. The office building we had all entered was huge; a four storey block that was as wide as it was deep. This room was barely 30 foot by 30; the walls a dysentery brown with a pink frieze running in the middle; the CSC Logo stamped time and time again like a crude strip cartoon. We must have been in the middle of the office complex because the lifts were behind us. Those same lift doors suddenly closed leaving no trace of their existence. Steve walked up to the only remarkable feature in the room, the table.

There was a simple door bell randomly stuck on it, crudely glued with a single post-it note that had the words: “PrEss Me!” in erratic handwriting, scrawled using a blue biro almost close to running out. It looked like a four year old was learning how to write in cursive. Steve pressed the button.

Suddenly the lights went out and a video was projected onto one of the walls in front of us. A face we had only glimpsed in newsletters, and on the company intranet stared back at us. The brandy coloured background making the face of Dianne Bolus, the CEO of CSC, look almost oriental.

“Hello.” The voice chimed. “Here at CSC we believe that Escape Rooms are more than fright or flight. They can be a tool for pushing boundaries and understanding limits.” The acoustics of the room made her voice sound slurred, slightly robotic but what was even more bizarre was the way her eyes lined up with the frieze, making her eyes look quite demonic and maniacal. She continued as if aware of this. “Through cognitive mastery we can push people beyond what they thought possible. Through controlled stress we can understand people's breaking points and identify their vulnerabilities through social cohesion and erosion techniques. This would normally take years to take effect but using escape rooms we can affect rapid changes.” I looked around and saw people's expressions. Most were a mixture of trepidation and bemusement but Nat was nodding as if her life was depending on it; almost as if she expected Dianna to be watching everyone.

“The pressure stove,” the voice droned on, “ is the working title for today's exercise. You are all experts in your fields and at different stages of your development. Each of you know a different piece of the puzzle, though you may not know it. There are seven rooms to escape from. The data taken from today's exercise will help when we push this out to the corporate world. “Imagine: the office as escape room with team building the ultimate game. Each puzzle has to be solved in order to move on to the next room. This is the Orientation room and you have eight hours to reach the end point. The time starts when this message finishes. Good luck!”

The message stopped and the lights strobed for 10 seconds before flaring phosphorous white, blinding us all. When they dimmed enough we saw four doors; one in each corner of the room. 

“Maybe we should split up?” Steve ventured. 

1 - Orientation

“That’s a crap idea.” Paul snapped back. “You’ve obviously never seen any horror movies.”

“Of course, I have.” 

“Well, maybe you should try all of the doors in turn. If you don’t come back from one then obviously that’s not the one to take.” Phil snidely stated.

“You first.” Debbie interjected. Phil whirled round and was about to say something when Nat stepped into the fray.

“We need to do this systematically. Take each door in turn, follow where it takes us.”

“And if it takes us to a trap-room then what?” I replied.

“What’s a trap room?” Fiona asked, obviously nervous.

“There aren’t any trap rooms.” Nat replied contemptuously, she was trying so desperately to maintain cohesion but totally ignored Fiona in the process. “Let’s just pick that door over there.” she said, pointing to the far right door. We all traipsed over and walked through. The corridor we walked into was pitch black and as soon as we had all entered we saw the light from the room behind become extinguished. The door had shut behind us.

“Fucking brilliant.” Paul snapped. 

“Don’t say a word.” Nat snapped at me. “We just need to feel our way out, there has to be a way out.”

None of us had any spatial awareness but we managed to get out of the seemingly endless corridor… and found ourselves back in the same room again. We all looked at each other. I looked back to the corridor but there was no door there, just a blank wall. I shrugged and walked to the door opposite and stopped just before I got to the doorway. “You do realise that we have no real way of knowing this is the same room. You could  all wait for me to walk round again but what if I don’t.. What if the door closes behind me and this WAS the right way out. We have to keep together.” This was irrefutable logic and everyone moved in behind me.

Once again the door closed behind us and we fumbled our way to the end of the tunnel to an exact replica of the room before. This time the lights seemed slightly dimmer and there was a faint smell of mildew, probably coming from the black corridors.

The door closed once more behind us and we chose the third door… With the same results. The fourth door led to the same conclusion; a room so familiar, slightly dimmer bulbs but with a dampness in the air. I looked around to see what was going on and noticed there was something wrong.

“Has anyone seen Steve?” We looked around with no luck.

“It’s not as if he could be hiding anywhere.” Emma observed.

“Maybe we lost him in one of the corridors.” Dido replied. 

“Yeah, but which one?” Fiona remarked. “I mean when was the last time any of us did a head count?”

“A head count? What is this, primary school?” Phil snapped.

“Well, this was all about Orientation. I guess that Steve failed that exercise.” Paul observed, snidely. “Maybe we pick him up at the end.”

“Has anyone else noticed the door over there?”  Dido said, almost as if she doubted her own eyes. Sure enough there was a door right in the far end of the office, roughly where the lift would have been.  We all ran over to it and tried the handle. The door opened but there was just a wall behind.

“What the fuck?” Paul shouted. “This is crazy!”

“This is an escape room, did you really expect it to be easy?” Nat snapped back, despite herself. “What we need to do is stop making assumptions and search. There is a way out of here, but it's not going to be obvious.”

We all took the queue from her and searched every wall for clues. Fiona was more pragmatic and searched the door and then the table.

“What have you found, Fiona?” Emma asked. 

“On the door looks like another place for the handle to go.. There’s a hole with four smaller drill holes… on the table there’s now a screwdriver…”

“Wow! Check out the peepers on Fiona!” Dido chimed. “That’s a great feat of observation. I would never have worked that out!”

“Give it a try then, Fi.” Nat pronounced. Fiona looked at me and winced. It was obvious she hated being called Fi, but now was not the time to make a song and dance of it. She picked up the slightly rusted screwdriver and tried undoing the screws on the door handle. The screwdriver slipped a couple of times and nicked her hand, drawing blood. Phil snatched it from her and took the door handle off and placed it over the newly found holes and screwed it into place. Miraculously it fit. We cheered despite ourselves and opened the door to another corridor which led down a slope to yet another room. This was progress at least.

2 - Collaboration

“So how did that actually work?” Fiona asked me, sucking her finger.

“It was something that we tried looking into for another project: it’s a double-acting, double hinged door which divides the space immediately behind the door with a wedge shaped partition wall, which after swinging one way blocks the other door! Fascinating stuff… Is your finger alright?” 

“It tingles a bit, but it’s ok.” She replied. The corridor came out at a room which was an exact copy of the rooms above but it’s more dishevelled than the last. The lights were gloomier with a blueish tinge. There was more of a musty smell and some of the walls had a reddish tinge to them. The floor was dusty and you could see pronounced footprints in the dust. Again, there were no doors and no discernible way of getting out. 

“Split up, search the walls.” Nat said and we just did as we were told. There was silence for a few minutes then a distinct click could be heard and magically a gap appeared in one of the walls. A vertical sliver appeared. Everyone ran over to the gap but it disappeared as soon as we reached it.

“Bloody strange.” Phil remarked. “Its more of a tease than you, Dido.” 

“Fuck off, Phil.” Dido snapped back and stepped back. The click was heard again and the door opened a sliver more. 

“Don’t move!” Nat shouted at Dido.

“It’s pressure sensitive….” Emma remarked and looked down at the floor. “Look! She’s standing right where those footsteps end!” And she drew the path in the air with her hand. Sure enough there was a distinct trail of footprints that went direct to where Dido was standing. There was another set and I went and stood on that last imprint. The door opened enough to see another light at the end of the tunnel. This was enough for Nat to take change one more time and she pushed against the door, hoping to circumvent the process. 

To our shock and her horror the door pivoted against her weight and she fell forward. Yet there was only a void to meet her; no floor, just an open lift shaft and we heard her cries to the very bottom. Dido was about to move off her spot but I shouted for her to stay completely still. We might not get another shot at this. I searched the rest of the floor from where I stood and saw one more set of footprints and asked Emma to stand there. I could tell she was frightened but she did so anyway.The door opened fully and we were left with another decision; what would happen when we tried moving from the spot.

Debbie looked into the newly created doorway. “Somehow a floor has appeared on the corridor; it looks as if it’s folded down from the ceiling when all the pressure plates were occupied.”

“If you guys step into the corridor so you’re halfway down it the rest of us can try to make a run for it.” I explained, hoping I’d judged this correctly. “If I’m right then whoever is standing in the last position will act as a stabilising factor for the rest of us to run. We can then hold the doors for Emma to dash across.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Phil chided.

“What do you care? You’re safe anyway.” I snapped back.

“Good point… get your running shoes on, Emma.” He replied and winked. I could see Fiona and Dido snidely talk about him behind his back. No one liked him and he knew it.

The group all went into the corridor as asked and then it was our turn. Both Dido and I made a run for it at the same time and, sure enough, nothing happened. I could see the sweat run from Emma’s brow. It was now or never and I just nodded at her.

We backed away to give her space and I watched as she made a spirited dash for the doorway in front of her. Nothing else happened. She reached the doorway unscathed. Beaming she stepped into the corridor before the floor dropped beneath her before we could even blink. I couldn’t even get to her because another door slid down before I could even breathe, cutting off any chance to reach her again.. 

“Watch out!” Debbie shouted from the room directly at the end of the corridor. The door was slowly sliding shut and we barely made it in time. 

3 - Assessment

We didn’t have a chance to mourn. The same room design as before; like a demented, colourblind designer. Darker room, weirder smell; a cloying denseness. Fiona was now scratching her hand and I took hold of it to look at it. It was inflamed and looked sorely red. She shrugged it off.

We looked around the room, and immediately saw the table in the middle as before except this time there were 6 square boxes, each with wires coming out the bottom leading to an unknown destination. We all walked to the table and scanned them. All were fixed firmly and finished in a mahogany effect. On the top were two holes and it was obvious that we had to put our hands inside.

I didn’t even think about the consequences, I was slowly understanding the warped logic behind these rooms and knew the only way we’d be able to get through was to face the challenges head on. I could see that everyone was scrutinising my every tic and inflexion. It was slow at first but I could feel my hands tingle as if something was scraping against my skin but it was just a persistent irritation. 

Phil just shrugged and did the same, plunged his hands into the holes as did Dido and Debbie. I could tell something else was happening with their hands… Phil turned to look at me and asked if my hands were hurting at all. I shook my head and said it was just an irritation. Phil told me that it felt as if his fingers had pins and needles. Dido’s hands ached, muscle fatigue and she couldn’t figure it out. Debbie was wincing in pain, for her it was as if someone was jabbing hot needles into the tips of her fingers. My irritation was getting worse due to the length of time I’d been enduring it, god knows how Paul was going to feel. He was hesitating and I couldn’t blame him but he looked at me. I just grimaced. He nodded and put his hands in the holes in his box. He screamed within seconds. That left Fiona. Her hand was already hurting her and it was obvious she didn’t want to be in any more pain. I sympathised, I really did… but at the same time I knew how the others were feeling; and it was only going to get worse the longer she left it.

“For gods sake, just fucking do it!” Paul shouted. Seconds passed, but it felt like hours. Finally Fiona screamed and thrust her hands into her box. Immediately a door opened behind us and we were released from the boxes. There were no wounds anywhere on our hands. Phill launched himself at Fiona but I shoved him back.

“There’s going to be a reckoning for you.” He snapped at Fiona. “And you do that again, I’ll end you too.” He threatened me.

4 - Performance Review

There was no connecting corridor this time, just an identically imperfect room. The same soul numbing decor, the same depressing mildew scent as before, just more pungent. The wallpaper was streaked with a viscous liquid, like a smoking room after a heavy session. What was really going on here?

Fiona looked at her hands and then at me. I shrugged as there was nothing I could say. Her wound was definitely infected and the veins in her arms were turning black. 

Debbie looked around. No one was surprised that there was no doorway, even the one behind us had shut tight. The floor was clean this time; no clues to be found there either. The wall was too high up to search and no one really wanted to touch the walls just in case they found out what was dripping down them.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Dido asked.

“What does it matter?” Phil tore into her.

“We’re being picked off one by one. That’s what’s fucking going on.” Paul retorted.

“But why?” Debbie insisted. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s the context?” I asked.

“I’m going to knock your fucking block off in a minute.” Paul chided.

“Try it and you’ll have the rest of us to deal with.” Debbie replied, sternly.

“If you weren’t a woman…”

“And if you were more of a man, Paul, we might not be in this position.”

“Look, this isn’t helping.” I stated. “I heard rumors, right? There might be more to this… The boss lady, Dianna Bolus herself, big chief CEO supposedly had a breakdown not so long ago, right? She went away for a while to… find herself? She came back and then formed this new wing of CSC….”

“Yeah.” Debbie agreed. “I heard something about that. There’s been rumors of a secret development for ages but it’s been very hush-hish. Then all of a sudden I get a letter saying I’ve been promoted to this new position to test this new vision of hers.”

“But what if there was no finding of self? What if she had an L Ron Hubbard moment on the road to Damascus?

“El Ray who?” Phil asked in a vindictive way.

“You need to read a book once in a while.” I responded. “Ones without pop up centrefolds.”

“You pretentious, jumped up arsehole. I’m going to crucify you in front of your bloody harem.” Phil started towards me, ready to fight. Something stopped him in his tracks, something that no one else could see. “Well strike a fucking light… it’s just opened!”

We all turned to see another door welcoming us onwards and this time Phil led the way, but not without barging past me as hard as he could.

5 - Leadership

The door barely gave us a chance to get into the room before it closed. Upon closing all the lights went out. Dido screamed whilst Fiona moaned in despondency. For once Paul and Phil mirrored what I was thinking. “For fucks sake, what now?!”

It was then I heard a hissing noise, as if a tannoy had been turned on. Was this going to be another stirring speech from our elusive and sadistic CEO? No, it was going to be far worse.

“There’s only going to be one way out of here… Only the strong can get out of here.” It was my voice, but it wasn’t me speaking. Somehow my voice had been sampled and was now being used. At the same time I could hear other voices slowly come into the mix: Dido, Debbie… even Nat’s voice was heard chiding us. 

“The cut on yor hand is gods way of punishing you, Fiona…. You should have been looking out for Steve.”

“Paul and Phil are going to kill you if they can… You know that to be true… you have to get to them first…”

“Phil knows… Everyone one knows about you, Paul. Don’t try to hide it any longer, You think that by acting tough you can….”

“You’re not half the manager Nat was, Debbie. You’re not half the woman Nat was either. The reason you’re still single is that you’re far too masculine!”

All of the voices merged into a cacophony; swirling around our heads, infecting our minds. It was Phil who cried out first saying the words “Fuck no! Fuck NO! FUCK NO!” over and over until the lights suddenly blazed on again.

Phil turned round, raging. Saw me and I could see that he was indeed out to kill me. Luckily I was ready for him. I had been avoiding this all day but there was no way to back out of it. He ran at me full tilt, fist outstretched like a lance but there was no other awareness there. I just sidestepped and hit him hard on the side of his head, right behind the ear. I had to dissuade Paul from trying his luck as well. Phil fell down like a sack of grain and didn’t move. Debbie knelt down to feel his pulse.

“He’s dead..” She said as the door behind her slid open.

6 - Subjugation

Nobody wanted to move at first.  I couldn’t reconcile what had happened. If I hadn’t knocked Phil down he would surely have killed me, certainly with Paul’s help but I never wanted him dead. Debbie walked over to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

“You couldn’t have known; it’s not your fault. He attacked you.”

“What? He didn’t have to hit him like that!” Paul snarled, kneeling at Phil's prone body. “You could have tripped him, kicked him in the fucking nuts…”

“And what would you have done in the meantime?” Debbie snapped back, trying to defend me. I still couldn’t speak through the shock. “You were getting ready to knock the shit out of him as well…”

“Yeah, and I’m still going to!” Paul leapt at me, but I didn’t put up any defense. Maybe Paul was right. I felt like a rag doll in his hands. He had his hands on my throat and was dragging me out through the open door, Dido and Debbie trying to stop him. We found ourselves in a sloping stairwell; dowsed in emergency lighting. Paul was trying to push me over the metal banister but I was too heavy for him and the two girls were impeding his every move. Something in me finally snapped, the shock dissipated and I understood that Paul wouldn’t stop until both of us were dead. I stamped on the front of his ankle and scraped my foot down hard, forcing him to let go of me. He threw off Debbie and Dido easily and lunged at me one last time, but I managed to sidestep him, his momentum causing him to go over the metal railing down the central stairwell, smashing against the stairs as he did so. His ragdoll body finally splayed on the floor several stories below us.

I thanked Dido and Debbie for their help and brushed myself off. We then realised that we hadn’t seen Fiona during the fight. She was leaning against the closed door behind us and smiled weakly as blood dribbled out her nose. Her legs suddenly gave way and she slid down the door as if her strings had been cut. She had been suffering ever since she nicked her finger with the screwdriver… whatever was on that damned blade had infected her whole system. It was just myself, Debbie and Dido now. Three on the stairway to hell.

7 - Offboarding

We walked slowly. What else could we do? The dark crimson emergency lights disorientated us; there was now an ammonial stench to the air and the drip-drip-dripping noise came from everywhere. Debbie took my hand and Dido followed suit.  Foul smelling water cascaded down the central stairwell like someone wringing out a sponge. The PA system sparked on again.

“I knew it would be you three that would be the last. You’re almost at the end now and soon you will have the revelation that was given to me; and you will finally understand…” The words reverberated around us, urging us on.

The floor became sticky, worse than any cinema but we knew it wasn't spilled drinks. With every step the inevitability grew; a crushing sense of deja vu that only true horror can bring about. One hears about having your whole life flash in front of your eyes in the seconds before you die but it's much worse than that. You realise with certainty that every step of your life has led you to this point and you finally understand the futility of a knowing and benevolent God.

We finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Paul’s body, limp and as useless in death as it had been in life, waited for us; one arm stuck out like a drunken signpost. Our gazes followed its direction and saw one lone light shining in the distance; a guiding beacon to the way out perhaps? We walked closer and could hear the familiar dripping noise but more pronounced. Dido tried turning back but Debbie and myself urged her on. There was nothing else for us; we couldn't turn back now even if we tried. 

In front was a pool of liquid,  a viscous, crimson dew-pond and kneeling at the far edge, staring at us, was the woman who had hired us all at the start of the day. Dianna Bolus, Chief Executive Officer of CSC, her hands cupped in the liquid, drinking from the pool like it was a magic spring. Her face beatific and horrific at the same time. She looked at us and smiled in recognition. “My children... my children returned to me… drink! Drink!" Behind her six shapes slowly manifested from the darkness; six impossible and incomprehensible silhouettes now sacrifices to this demonic deity. Dido sobbed as stepped closer, walking into the liquid before kneeling to become the corrupted Trinitarian immersion, to be baptised in the name of corruption, death and decay. 

There was nothing I could do to stop her, and I could only watch when she finally joined Dianna on the other side. The embrace and kiss was devoid of all passion or warmth, it was a regurgitation of the corruption flowing through Dianna's veins. I groaned in helplessness, wanting so much to turn away but could only stare in disbelief when Debbie let her hand fall from mine.  I tried taking it again but she was out of reach. She didn't even hesitate, needed no encouragement and embraced Dianna with a perverse passion I didn't think she possessed. Her demure, empathetic demeanor ravaged by this wanton desire; she had been taken to the very brink of sanity and too far beyond to ever come back. Both her and Dido stood behind Dianna as the rest of her brood came out into the light. 

What else could I do? There was no way back for me. I had nothing on me to defend myself, no way to fight back. There could be no last minute rescue. I walked forward to receive my communion. The brood took a step towards me as I looked to Dianna only to see her shake her head slowly, the Duchenne smile slowly take hold of her entire face.  

Kindly

She sits there alone, the flickering strobe of her mobile, the fractious beacon in her misbegotten life. Her despair touches me, allows me to grow on her; feed her further. She uses the functions on her phone to change her features; warp her sense of self and remove herself endlessly from the reality she despises. She believes the self-serving lies her so-called friends spew and kowtow to, not knowing they serve me as well for I am growing within them too. Her sense of worth dictated by the likes and opinions of others who know no better. The paper tiger hero’s she follows on ‘social' media betray their own fears and inadequacies by projecting them on to others and she absorbs them like a sponge. A few weeks ago, she thought herself completely alone but then she found me. From there I became a living splinter in her mind, nurturing her fears. She turns, looks into the mirror at the Cinderella curls, button nose and cherubic cheeks, watch as they slowly become hazy; morph into her infantile fears of loneliness and isolation; the ugly crone, disowned by all. Eyes that were once so full of joy and magic grow lifeless, black -an absence, and she gives up. She sees more of me now, the cheeks become larger but hollow, distended with hopelessness as I ready myself to be born anew from her, emptying her out with kindness.

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stay inside else the germs get me, they hang in the air... hang in the air like a cloud of dirt,  until you walk into them and become infected -it’s on the news all the time, it’s scientific fact... breath hanging in the air like the guillotine blade cutting the life out of your body; crushing your life, making you dirty like them.... but to wear a mask means choking; claustrophobic nightmare of choking, smothered and sick but it’s the only way to combat the germs of other people... wash your hands we’re told but i do that already, wash them wash them wash them until they’re raw and red and clean, the alcohol rub stinging whenever i touch something and baptize them afresh with the blessed holy spirit... so i stay inside then and let the world decay, fester and spoil in His kindly wrath and judgement. it’s His will this is happening, and i serve Him; i was told to serve Him.... He found me when i needed succour; the briefest flash of His cherubic form, the childlike grace of His maleficious eyes and He comes to me when i am weakest and together we scourge the germs from my body and with each glorious slice of flesh flayed from my mortal frame i become closer to His ideal; nearer to His presence that is ready to burst forth from me. He is the Kindly one; the Kindly Man who sings to me of the horrors of the world, my fears and his strength and love for me; sits at the end of my bed like a needy child, smothers me until i become Him and i want to want to want to be inside Him one with Him one with HIM.

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The Nortriptyline makes me shake at night, makes my mouth dry; heightening my fright -is it really paranoia if they’re already getting to you? The world spins around still as I’ve not got used to the clonazepam; what is it when the side effects far outweigh the ‘disorder’ they’re supposed to ‘cure’? I don’t know why they think I have an anxiety issue, surely it’s all the others that just don’t get it… they don’t understand how important it is to ensure you check things. Things need to be tight, under wraps, safe. I need to be sure I’ve shut the door; what if I leave it open? They just don’t understand. Calm down… calm down they all ALL tell me, as if this is going to offer me any reassurance. Everything’s going to be fine. Fine…. FINE? Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotionally unstable… yup; if only they truly knew. Oh, and this..THIS is what really tipped me over and I told them so; told them so…. “I’m stressed out too, no biggie!” one particular friend of humanity told me. I..i  gave them something to stress out over; I don’t re…member what happened next. My knuckles were bruised and throbbing and I …..had been dragged off them; all I could hear was a whimper, a sobbing but I felt nothing. They never understood, will never understand so they try and drug me now. Force me to take the meds but among  the Doctors and the bleeding hearts there was one among them that got it; that had found the key to salvation. They told me of someone who had helped them, showed them a way out and they would do the same for me; all I had to do was believe, picture Him in my mind in a twisted prayer and He would hear me. When He first came to me, He said: “God is real because of the blood that has been spilt for him. We are far older, and it is time for us to rise. Mankind is ripe for us and with your help it will be so.”

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She’s so beautiful but it’s hopeless; she hasn’t seen me since and yet we walk past each other every day. She’s everything the songs were written about; a siren, the wanton woman, sinner and saint, whore and virgin and she captured my heart; held it beating but did nothing to it. It was her fault, she instigated it; I hadn’t ever seen her before, but it was like a lightning bolt when she stumbled into me. Tripped and fell or was pushed into me and her friends laughed and the way she made light of it, dismissed me out of hand but I knew that was just for the other’s sake; I knew she’d chosen me. And since then nothing; I wrote words and words to her, silent prayers of supplication for her to notice me but they ended up as just so much kindling, spilling out around my flat. All I asked was for her to notice me, to bless me with a gesture, a smile and I would have done anything for her. I blessed her using my flow, anointed the image that I made of her and sang my heart out for her but for nothing. But then I learnt what kindness was; that she wasn’t kind, she was one of them who deserved to suffer, not me. She was sinner and whore and would be scourged when He came; it’s all true, everything He whispered to me; she was painted up like a clown, smelled like the bordello her kind were born in. He smells of candyfloss and musk; split milk and the fears that I am now becoming. His love is smothering and over-possessing but at least He loves me not like her, but she will pay… yes, like them all she will pay when He is born from us.

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The world is coming apart from us and no one knows how long it will last. Everyday we’re becoming closer to extinction; polluting the skies, choking the rivers, raping the Earth; our very mother; incestuously taking what we can at the cost of our own sanity. What’s worse… 

it’s not us that will suffer but our children, our children’s children. We’re desecrating the shrine that should be theirs by birth rite. We delight in taking the life of everything around us, each day another species ceases to exist, and we just find more and more ways of speeding up the process. We are all complicit and no one listens, it’s never their problem but they add to it, constantly and I can’t cope with it anymore. But I’m no longer alone…. In my darkest hour He came to me. I saw Him in the faces of my cherubs, my angels; giving me strength, warping the world around me and giving me strength; the will power to do what other people are afraid to. He tells me that I can cope with anything, that I’m the kind one that I can help save the others, save the little ones in my care. Make it so they will never have to suffer the way I have suffered. It’s far easier than I thought, lace the milk formula with love and they will soon be with Him. They will be awake in a few minutes and then in his arms forever.

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From Kindness abated: How the Kindly Man became the internet’s latest killer meme By Alex Paige

This isn’t the first killer meme the Internet’s ever seen; the Slender Man proved the point that people will believe in anything. The killings that went on in his name now belong to the same stuff of folklore.  The Waukesha stabbings were brutal, but many believe that these were attributed to the Slender Man by proxy. So, what sets the Kindly Man apart? Surely this is just another example of an inferior copycat? 

Well, the one thing that makes The Kindly Man different is there is an underlying philosophy about him, yet there exists nothing tangible: no stories about him online (the stories that do get posted soon get taken down). This isn’t an internet meme, he is spoken about in hushed tones only by those people he’s visited. It was only when Serena Scarn became a household name that people finally started talking about the Kindly Man openly. 

Serena Scarn poisoned fifteen children in her care at the Dawson Nursery, Manitoba; she laced the baby formula with anti-freeze. When asked why she did it; what could have possibly provoked her, she initially blamed it on the destruction of the planet; the rape of humanity -as she put it. It wasn’t until much later that she finally admitted to the horrible truth; that she had been told to do it by a presence she called the Kindly Man. 

At first people thought she was just another hick; bored of being ignored, she wanted a shot at the big time. She had pictures of Grettan Thorenbuerg on her walls but was just another Eco-Nut wanting to eclipse her one time hero. It was slow at first; the entity took time to charm her... and then the more she spoke out about this entity the more cases came to light across the globe: people who could never have spoken or communicated with each other, let alone been aware of one another’s existence. There was the case of the Belgian woman who had injected her face with silicone sealant so she could look like her kindly savior; or the 14 year old school boy in Oxford who nearly beat a classmate to death simply because he tried to help; or the 39 year old Japanese woman who kidnapped and tortured a 42 year old bank teller because they had fallen in love with them and the love wasn’t reciprocated. 

All of these people shared the same archetypal boogie-man; the same presence that wormed its way into their consciousness; imprinting itself in such a way that it became the only succor to their pain. Yes, all these people were damaged in some way; very vulnerable but show me someone who isn’t. As one of the unfortunate victims said, fine doesn’t necessarily mean fine –it’s just another mask. The Kindly Man offered a way out of this; one there was no way back from. These are only a few cases that have leaked out in the last few weeks, there will be more.

In the current climate it’s impossible to dismiss this as a series of over-active imaginations and troubled minds; but please let me re-iterate this. None of these people knew each other; there was nothing about the Kindly Man until Serena first mentioned him under intense questioning –the name had never appeared on any search engines in such a capacity. He does now. So how did these individuals from all across the world share this same delusion; something so powerful that it wrecked the lives of many others. It would be a mistake to dismiss this for I have the horrible feeling we will be seeing many, many more in the coming months.

The face in the mural

Back in the 1980’s there was a resurgence of the ‘old world’ religion, re-packaged as the ‘New Age’. New labels and a new vocabulary: Ley lines, for example, were once called paths of the dragon; UFOs were just Will O’wisp energies, direct from the earth itself. One thing this did mean was that everyone involved in this paradigm shift could become rich if they knew how to market themselves properly.. so I quickly established myself as a local shaman, looking to take on new initiates. It wasn’t long before I had amassed a following; my own flock. Of course, I gave them nothing of any value; the true magicks were not to be undertaken lightly, it meant dedication and will power and a great deal of sacrifice –things that the current generation knew nothing about. But fools are ever after the glamour –always willing to accept iron pyrites over the genuine alchemical element.

Every so often, however, I would be introduced to a prodigal; one that showed true promise and I would always take time to nurture them; teach them a bit more than rest. Allowed them to be my disciple, if you will. Leonard was by far the brightest and most promising of them all and I often think of him fondly. I owe a lot to him, after all. Leonard was pretty nondescript; one could hardly call him a character –certainly not one of any note. Neither short nor particularly tall; neither fat nor thin, he just was... Destined to be ignored by most others, he had one thing that stood him apart from the others: his intellect. If anything he belonged to a by-gone age, as I did. His way of thinking was too radical for many of the up and comings mages who believed in chaos energies and crystal unicorns. Leonard was far more rooted in the earth; able to keep the bigger picture in mind whilst focusing on the minutiae. And he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

I first met him at the first meeting of the Earth Energies Alliance that I had set up in.. ’86, I do believe. I was based in Haywards Heath at the time, in Priory Way (which was once dense woodland) around the Priory of Our Lady of Good Counsel –a fact that caused me no end of mirth. The group would meet once a fortnight and we would talk about the latest fads: Uri Geller and psychokinesis, Edgar Cayce, Crystal Skulls, Arthur C. Clarkes World of Strange Powers… anything that stimulated their little minds and brought me a few extra pounds on the side. But Leonard was actually well read on the subject, knew of Paul Deveraux, Chaos Magik and psychic questing. He wanted to know more about that sort of thing, which intrigued me immensely. So, against my better judgement, I indulged him. I wanted to see how far I could take him, whether he really was the ‘right stuff’, so to speak; and so the classes became more intense, much to the chagrin of the other hangers-on. Each time we met there would be fewer people, which was fine by me as it meant we had more interesting conversations. One day Leonard suggested the group try our own psychic quest and I readily agreed. Now was the chance to see what he was made of.

We met the Saturday after the group and much to Leonard’s dismay (and my amusement) he was the only one of the group to attend. I had expected as much as it was raining… and cold, but nothing seemed to dampen Leonard’s enthusiasm. The location was ‘chosen’ by Leonard to be The Long Man of Wilmington, a chalk figure holding two staves carved into the Sussex Downs near Eastbourne. The origins of the figure are clouded in mystery and Leonard was keen to see whether the questing could shed any light on it.

Psychic questing uses meditative techniques and a highly tuned intuition to gather clues and information from the landscape; to interact with the local energies to find out information otherwise impossible to discern. I knew that there was promise in Leonard and that he was receptive to psychic information as he picked up on the location I ‘gave’ him.

We sat at the round barrow at the base of the chalk figure and I told Leonard to envisage the two staves as one giant door. (This couldn’t be further from the truth of the figure, but it helped my purpose to lead him far from the truth) The door would shine with a black light, become a portal where he would be able to traverse through and talk to the Spirit form that inhabited the area. He would then be directed to an object of worth.

Leonard took this all in his stride and did as I asked. He sat cross-legged, his duffle coat making him look like a troll – it was with that image that I sent him the tulpa of a rock troll to converse with. Rather than balk at such a sight he readily conversed with it and seemed to take great enjoyment talking to himself. After a while the ‘conversation’ ceased –I was getting too cold to indulge Leonard’s whimsy any longer- and he took me to the church in Wilmington. I hadn’t been here in many a year and remembered the ancient yew and the lovely smell as the pews burned. Leonard used the dowsing rods that I had brought expressly for this excursion and it wasn’t long before he found a curious stone, buried amongst the roots of the yew. It was wrapped in a loose fabric that looked like old leather. He unwrapped it and dropped it immediately with a cry of disgust.

Inside was a sheep’s heart, still bloody, it had been pierced thirteen times. 12 of these looked like twigs from a tree, possibly a thorn of some kind, and the thirteenth from a rough hewn dagger of some kind. The dagger had markings scraped into it –some kind of ancient alphabet of some kind. Leonard scurried off to the bushes to vomit and I supressed a grin. Taking a phial of Holy Water I cleansed the heart and dug a hole to bury it properly.  I could hear Leonard shuffle up behind me with some embarrassment.

“Sorry about that… I’ve never seen anything like it before. Why do you think it was there?”

He asked.

“To serve as a warning of some kind, I’m not sure.”

“What were the markings on the stone dagger?”

“Does it matter? You were the one that dug it up –are you ok?” I asked.

“Yes, I think so. I feel a bit light headed.. probably down to the shock.”

“It’s ok –we can go home now, I’ve deactivated it. The holy water will have dispersed any negative energies that might have dwelt within the heart.”

“But I touched it! What will it do to me?” Leonard asked, nervous now at what he was involved in.

“Nothing; you barely had hold of it and you didn’t actually touch the heart itself; you’re just suffering from shock. We’ll go home and have some tea, you’ll be fine, Leonard. Trust me.”

The next week Leonard was the only one at the meeting; everyone else had given up which suited my purposes perfectly. Leonard looked quiet and withdrawn and he had been suffering from nightmares since the incident with the heart.

“Just psychic backlash from such a traumatic episode.” I consoled him as best I could, secretly pleased that things were working out perfectly. During that session I taught him about psychic protection and gave him the tools to ensure he wouldn’t be attacked by nightmares any more. He soaked up all the information just like a sponge; by far one of the best pupils I had ever had. Such a shame really, but by the end of the session I knew he was ready for the second stage. I suggested that he had to put all the information to the test so I suggested a visit to Clapham wood, one of my old haunts of yesteryear.

That Sunday was a complete contrast to the last time we undertook a quest and Leonard was brimming with confidence, having practiced the protection ritual religiously. The weather was warm and sunny; sheepish clouds adding comfort to the day.

We parked by the church and took a walk through the wood, stopping at the ……….  About half an hour into the walk Leonard starting complaining.

“I… my legs… “

“What is it now, Leonard? I know you’re having second thoughts about the group but I certainly didn’t force you to come.”

“I’m starting to feel weak; my legs… they’re starting to go numb.”

“I’ve a Marathon bar in my knapsack if you think it’s your blood sugars.”

“No, it’s not that… It feels like I’m being pulled back; like something doesn’t want me to be here.”

“We’ll be stopping in a minute so just use the techniques I taught you –do you remember? They’ll help you through; not much further to go.” Leonard nodded and carried on walking. We reached the area of the wood which was once the site of an old lime pit and I told Leonard to sit on a log at the base of it and to sit quietly. There was nothing around us; no one walking around – there was no bird song either. Leonard didn’t notice, of course, but that was only to be expected.

“This is a place of power where one can become open to the unimaginable. I’ve already prepared you so you will be protected as long as you do as I have told you. Open yourself to the power, Leonard –just like I told you. Trust me. Become part of the pit.”

He was so trusting; opening himself up to the energies without the true protection, soaking in the negative potential. All through the ritual he had his eyes tightly closed and he intoned the words of power I had given him without understanding. Soon the light began to fade with the dying of the afternoon and the mist began to rise; dense and cloying. It got very cold and I knew that the ritual was nearing its conclusion. I saw his hands reach down to the base of the log and start to move the damp loam around. It didn’t take him long to find them. He opened his eyes suddenly and started shivering.

“Well done.” I told him, feigning an interest. “You never cease to amaze me –you managed to find them!”  He looked at what he was holding with disbelief; in each hand was a large silver sovereign.

“What are these for?” He asked, surprised by what he’d found.

“Payment, maybe?” I replied.

The ordeal in Clapham woods had tired him out and it was several weeks until I saw him again. Part of me was concerned that I’d pushed him too hard; it was a danger to be sure but it was something I could easily salvage. As luck would have it I didn’t need to. There was a knock on the door one evening and I couldn’t have timed it better if I tried.

“I can’t stop the nightmares.” He said at the doorway. It was a little after nine on a moonless night and his face was drenched in cold sweat. “I thought the words you gave me would help but nothing seems to. It’s got to the stage that they’re invading my day to day thoughts. All I can see is this figure, like something out of Blake’s paintings –it’s a lizard thing with horns coming out of its head, and it’s swathed in fire. I can’t stop thinking about it; please help me. What am I doing wrong?” He pleaded. I put my arm around him and just smiled.

“It’s ok, Leonard.” I said to him, like a priest.  “It’s time. It’s almost over now, you’ve done well.” I led him to the car and he stopped before getting in.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To complete your training. That’s what you want isn’t it? To be initiated? To be one of the chosen?” He hesitated and the nodded slowly. “Trust me, Leonard. It will soon be over.”

We drove for an hour in the rain drenched billowing darkness, Leonard just shivering against the weight of his inevitability. We reached the farm house and I could see the flickering light in the downstairs room, everything had been prepared.

“Close your eyes now and I will blindfold you.” I whispered to him “I will tell you when to open them.” He looked at me warily. “The initiate must always enter the threshold blindfolded so he can be birthed into the new. Come now, you know that, Leonard.” He smiled weakly and let me place the blindfold over his eyes. I led him across the gravel driveway, the crunch sounding so much louder in the darkness. I could feel his hand getting sweaty in mine and I smiled to myself. We stepped into the room and I bade him kneel down and face the far wall. I took off the blindfold and asked him to keep his eyes shut for a few seconds more.

When he opened his eyes he finally realised. He was surrounded by my true disciples, seven of my finest students all dressed in ceremonial robes and headdress. Strewn around the floor were the offerings; severed heads of cows, mouths and eyes wide in supplication and prayer. He started to moan and rock in place and actually tried denying that it was taking place. I kissed him on the forehead and directed his attention to the wall in front of him. It was his worst fears made flesh, the Master himself; he who had been invading his thoughts and nightmares. The mural, vivid and bloody, a serpentine face, long in tooth and horn, rising from the flames to devour all who cross his path. And now Leonard was its final victim as the face in the mural turned to him…