School Reunion Read online

  SCHOOL REUNUION

  AN EXTREME HORROR NOVELLA

  by

  SAM WEST

  SCHOOL REUNION

  AN EXTREME HORROR NOVELLA

  by

  SAM WEST

  COPYRIGHT SAM WEST 2016

  COVER IMAGE

  ROCKING BOOK COVERS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced or used in any way without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews. The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  ‘We should forgive our enemies,

  but not before they are hanged.’

  Heinrich Heine.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jasper Black pinned the last photograph to the corkboard and reversed his wheelchair so that he could view all six photographs at once.

  The sight made him smile. This was going to be so much fun. His gaze was helplessly drawn to the first picture he had pinned to the board, just like it had been throughout the entire process.

  Kendra Ball. The love of his life. At thirty-three, she was as gorgeous now as she had been then. More so, if that was even possible. The picture had been taken of her as she unlocked her car door, and her lustrous, brown curls whipped around her sweet little face. She was a doctor now. How ironic. He hated doctors.

  His gaze shifted to the next two photographs which were side by side, just as those same two people always had been in school. Jean Glover and Maria Walker. The fucking, bitch slag whores. Jean was a porker now, a fat, single-mother with four kids by three different men. Maria had kept her looks in a hard, washed-up kind of way. Maria was a two-bit stripper in some dive strip-bar and her photo had been taken as she twisted her toned body around a pole. Her breasts were unnaturally large and round, the skin over them stretched taut and thin. Her once-pretty face was etched with hard lines which no amount of make-up could erase.

  His gaze settled on the next two photographs, also side by side. These were of Craig Ellison and Wayne Drake. The class jocks.

  Or as Jasper preferred to think of them, the complete fucking cunts.

  Just looking at those two fuckers made his lungs tighten unbearably, forcing him to reach for his respirator. He sucked down on the oxygen, each breath filled with hatred; hatred for them. It wasn’t fair that scum like them had the use of their legs, that they had the rest of their lives in front of them. He glared at the picture of Craig Ellison, feeding his hatred. His face was partly obscured by the pint glass, but there was no mistaking his narrow green eyes with the permanent arrogant glint. He was a fair few pounds heavier than he had been in school – all those beers and takeaways, no doubt – but he wore it well. Craig worked hard and partied harder, he was site-manager for a construction company and most weekends he boozed and picked up women.

  His gaze drifted to Wayne Drake. Now there was a different story. Unlike Craig, Wayne appeared to have left his bullying ways behind him. He was married with two kids and had a job as an accountant, of all things. The thought of Wayne Drake crunching numbers when all he used to crunch was skulls was entirely laughable. He also looked like a completely different man; gone was the footballer’s physique and floppy blonde hair and in its place was a balding, bespectacled, middle-aged guy with a thickening girth. Of all of them, he found Wayne’s transformation over the past twenty years to be the most shocking – it truly was like the original Wayne had been beamed up by aliens and a stranger had taken his identity.

  It’s not what you are now, it’s what you were that matters to me.

  Last but not least, his gaze shifted to the final photograph, isolated at the bottom of the corkboard. The borderline, functioning alcoholic Kevin Hendricks, there for no other reason than he was the one-time boyfriend of Kendra Ball. Life had not been kind to Kevin. Two years ago, his wife and daughter had died in a car accident on the way home from the school-run. One year ago, he had been sacked from his post as Headmaster due to unsubstantiated accusations of indecent assault on a bunch of sixth-form girls.

  Jasper had done much research on his ‘subjects’ and he didn’t think he did it. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be so handsome. Not that Jasper ever had such a problem.

  Life for Kevin Hendricks was about to get even less kind. He smirked behind the respirator.

  Yeah, well, Kevin, you don’t know the meaning of misery. Try being a cripple riddled with cancer. Now that’s what you call a hard fucking life.

  There was a knock, and one of his staff members poked his head round the study door.

  “Sir? Your guests have arrived and are seated,” the young man said.

  “Are they awake?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Perfect, you may escort me through.”

  Jasper was quite capable of pressing a button on the armrest of his state-of-the-art, electric wheelchair and taking himself into the game room that had taken a month to design and prepare, but he enjoyed having people do his bidding. What other pleasures did he possibly have in his miserable little life? What else was his money good for if not to be waited on hand and foot?

  Well, his sizable wealth was about to be good for something, that was for sure. It was going to be good for a shit-load of fun.

  Jasper’s heart tripped in a way it had not done for years as he was wheeled out of his office which was as big as an average public library with twice as many books – first edition, of course – and he made every effort to compose his facial features into a semblance of grave sincerity.

  Let the games commence. The class of ninety-nine were about to get together for the final time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kendra Ball opened her eyes and gasped when needle-sharp pain stabbed her retinas.

  Too bright.

  The throbbing pain in her head pumped in tandem with the squeezing, pulsing pressure behind her tightly-shut eyes.

  Slowly, she became aware of all the other hurts. A stiff neck. Numb feet. Aching bones, like she had a fever.

  Where am I?

  Tentatively, she opened her eyes for the second time, squinting in the glare of the artificial light.

  Nothing she saw made any sense to her. Nothing was familiar. Her eyes opened fully and instinctively she went to stand up. She couldn’t; her arms jerked, sending a hot surge of pain racing up her arms and shooting into her neck. Her backside didn’t even leave the seat.

  She looked down at herself properly for the first time, taking in every last detail of her captivity in a matter of seconds. Her wrists were shackled to the metal arms of a chair and her ankles to the metal legs. When she tried to rock the chair, it didn’t budge. Instead, the back of her head connected with a hard surface, and when she twisted her head round to look, she saw that the back of the chair extended up past the top of her head.

  A metal chair bolted to the floor? What the fuck is this?

  This realisation caused sweat to trickle into her eyes, making her blink. This couldn’t be happening. This was the stuff of horror movies, things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people like her. This was impossible.

  The rest of the horrific scene slowly sunk into her skull. She was in a room of indeterminable size due to the edges of it being cast in shadows. It wasn’t an ordinary light above her, but a floodlight mounted on the high ceiling. It lit up the surface of the large and highly-polished circular table she was sitting at, blinding her to the rest of her surroundings.

  And she wasn’t alone. Five others joined her round the table, each person in a metal chair identical to her own, and each chair evenly spaced around the table at roughly a metre apart. Every one of those five heads lolled on their necks, their faces cast into shadows by the strong, overhead light.

  O
ut-cold. Or dead.

  She began to shiver, despite the heat that the spotlight threw off above her head.

  It’s not a floodlight. It’s a spotlight. This is a god-damn stage-set.

  The overriding sense of unreality grew and she blinked back the tears. She wouldn’t cry, not yet. She racked her brains, trying to think back to the last thing she was doing before she woke up here, to the last thing she remembered.

  As if that’s going to help. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she pushed down the rising panic. Come on, think…

  It was Saturday afternoon, and she had been running low on groceries. Seeing as it was just her to feed and she was going to a friend’s for dinner anyway, she had decided to walk to the shops rather than drive to the supermarket. She remembered walking along the busy main around and stopping to nip across. A car had pulled up in front of her and then…

  And then what?

  A half-remembered blur of slamming car doors and a guy lunging for her… and then nothing.

  “Hello? Is anyone awake?” None of the people stirred. “Is there anybody there?”

  Her voice sounded thin and reedy, further strengthening her suspicion that this was a big room.

  Silence greeted her as she squinted into the darkness.

  “Hello?” she tried again, louder this time.

  An overwhelming urge to scream bubbled up inside her but she refused to give in to it.

  “Can you hear me?” she said, her voice cracking.

  She was no longer talking to the shadowy corners of the room, but her companions around the table. Not one of them so much as twitched. She lowered her head and took deep, shuddering breaths, doing her best to calm her racing heart and get her thoughts under control.

  Oh God, what is happening to me? Where am I?

  Only then did she notice that she was no longer dressed in the last thing she remembered wearing – her favourite blue pullover and black jeans.

  This isn’t one of my dresses…

  The realisation that someone had stripped her and re-dressed her in this clinging, black cocktail-dress made her stomach lurch and her head spin. She stared in disbelief down at herself. The edging of a frilly black bra she didn’t recognise poked out above the neckline of the low-cut dress; one of those push-up jobs that she usually shied away from because she thought her chest too large and she harboured the notion that such underwear was ‘unsuitable’ attire for a doctor. Her gaze travelled lower and she saw that her feet were bare.

  She moaned, a pitiful sound that hung impotently in the air around her. “Please. Why are you doing this?”

  Gritting her teeth, she balled her fists and pushed with all her might against the metal handcuffs. She did the same at her feet, ignoring the sharp pain that bloomed in her wrists and ankles.

  “Fucker,” she gasped, going slack in the chair.

  She tensed up again when a low whirring sound reached her ears. There was movement to her left and she snapped round her head, squinting into the darkness. A man in a wheelchair emerged from the shadows.

  “Tut, tut, Kendra, I really didn’t think you were the type of woman to swear under any circumstances.”

  Kendra could only stare in disbelief at the man. The closer he got to her, the more familiar he seemed, although for the life of she couldn’t place him.

  “Let me go,” she said when he wheeled right up next to her, killing the electrical motor.

  “Hello Kendra, you’re looking well. It’s been so long.”

  She swivelled sideways in her seat as best she could, glaring at the man.

  “Who are you?”

  Although as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew. A shadow passed over his face, but a shadow of what, she wondered. Hurt? Anger? The moment passed, and his mask of indifference was firmly in place once more.

  “Do you really not remember me?”

  She did. Of course she did. There was no mistaking that bright orange hair. It was still just as unruly and coarse, but now he had a receding hairline and a bald-spot to boot.

  “Yeah, I remember you,” she said softly.

  She neglected to mention that she couldn’t remember his name for the life of her. Unless you counted ‘Ginger Tosser’ as a name.

  “So who am I?”

  His first name came to her in a flash.

  “Jasper…” Carrot.

  She bit her lip, not believing she had almost said Carrot.

  Her stomach summersaulted and she licked her dry lips. She stared at the skinny, twisted little man in the wheelchair, at the big, watery blue eyes magnified further behind the glasses and the little snub nose that was just plain wrong on a bloke.

  Come on, Kendra, bloody think.

  She knew she had to answer his question, knew that it was quite possibly the most important question she had ever been asked in her life.

  But what’s the bloody answer?

  “Yes? Go on.”

  It came to her in a rush that was almost physical in its intensity, knocking the breath out of her.

  “Jasper Black.”

  “Very good. For a moment there I thought you were going to say Carrot. I always hated that particular nickname. Although I don’t recall you ever using it. That ginger-haired tosser of a comedian got right up my nose.”

  “Why am I here?”

  She marvelled at how calm her voice sounded; it had to be the doctor in her, taking control.

  “Ah, yes, the million dollar question, so to speak. Do you not recognise any of your fellow school chums?”

  School chums.

  Her stomach felt like lead when she looked at the strangers. For the first time she noticed they were all dressed in black, like her. She just knew that they too had been ‘dressed for the occasion’. The two other women, one fat and one thin with an overly large chest, wore black cocktail dresses much like her own. The three men wore crisp, white shirts and black dinner jackets.

  A horrible understanding danced just out of reach on the edges of her mind; now that he mentioned it, there was something familiar about them, especially the guy directly opposite her. Something about the straight angle of his hairline and thick, black hair stirred a long buried memory.

  Surely it can’t be…

  As if the man she was man staring at could read her mind, his head lolled on his neck, accompanied by a guttural moan. He raised his head.

  Kendra gasped. His face was older, the jawline heavier, and his features had lost their boyish softness, but there was no mistaking him. This man sat opposite her could be no other than her very first, proper boyfriend, Kevin Hendricks.

  ”I think it’s safe to say you do recognise him, don’t you Kendra? Kevin Hendricks, your first love. The man you chose over me.”

  Kendra stared in dumb awe at Kevin. He squinted at her across the shiny table, his big, puppy-dog brown eyes bleary, unfocused and confused.

  “Kendra? The Kendra? Where am I? What’s going on?” he slurred.

  “Kevin. I don’t know what’s going on, I’ve just woken up, like you. Jasper Black took us.”

  “What? Who? I don’t –“

  “Silence!”

  Kendra flinched, but she still felt a momentary stab of victory. Her gut told her that Jasper was going to test Kevin with the whole, ‘what’s my name’ thing, and God only help him if he hadn’t been lucky enough to remember, like she had managed to do.

  “There are a few things we need to get straight here. I call the shots, not you. And this means only speaking when I say you can. This is my house, my rules. And this is my game.”

  “Game? What do you mean, game?” Kendra said, before she could stop herself.

  Apparently, Kevin was at the stage she had been at a few minutes ago; the, ‘tugging at my metal-cuffs until I hurt myself’ stage.

  “Yeah, what the fuck is this? When you let me out of these cuffs I’m going to ring your scrawny little neck.”

  Kendra winced.

  “My dear man, you’ll soon learn
to watch your tongue.”

  Kendra watched Jasper reach into the gap between his thigh and the arm of the wheelchair. He pulled out a little black box and her heart lurched in terror. She had no idea what it was, but whatever it was, she sure as shit knew it wasn’t going to be anything good.

  Her worst suspicions were confirmed when Kevin began to convulse in his metal chair, his mouth twisted open in a silent scream of blatant agony.

  The convulsions lasted less than three seconds, then he was still and floppy.

  “Don’t look so alarmed, sweet Kendra, it was only a little shock. But believe me, I could make it much stronger.” Jasper swivelled his head to look at Kevin and raised his voice: “I could fry your brains right out of your head. But then, it wouldn’t make much difference, would it Kevin, seeing as you manage to do that all by yourself by drinking a litre of whisky every day.”

  ”Leave him alone!” Kendra said, shaking almost as violently as Kevin had been.

  ”What’s the matter, Kendra? Do you still hold a torch for Kevin, even after all these years? Even after two failed marriages behind you. Do you finally actually want to make babies?”

  “Fuck you.”

  The words slipped out, she couldn’t help it. Despite everything that was happening to her right then, that was personal.

  Yeah, well, he’s struck a nerve, hasn’t he? You messed up two perfectly good marriages because you said you never wanted kids. And now you do, don’t you?

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she hated herself for it.

  ”Leave her alone,” Kevin said.

  ”Oh, how touching. The torch still burns bright, I see.”

  A bitter, humourless laugh escaped her lips, and she wasn’t sure why. None of this was remotely funny.

  “Don’t you laugh at me,” Jasper said, his big blue eyes like ice. “Don’t you ever bloody laugh at me.”

  She locked eyes with his and the harsh cackle died on her lips. She was saved from having to formulate a reply when a groaning noise caught all of their attention.

  “About time, too,” Jasper said. “It looks like Jean is waking up. The others should soon come round as well, then we can get started with the games.”