Friday Story — Cul de sac.

It was dark, though the street was perfectly lit with a soft yellow light that complemented everything around it.

The lawns and flowerbeds were perfectly manicured. Every house was modern, oversized. It was like the whole street had been built in the last five years, yet the London plane trees on the curbside were fully grown, their canopies stretching from one side of the road to the other. The rural power lines strung along the main road had somehow made it underground here.

Cam gasped as they slowed down.

‘Holy shit!’ said Rachel.

‘Right,’ said Cam, nodding to himself as they pulled in.

The place was huge. It was a single-level affair that sprawled across an acre. The double garage door retreated on to itself; the lights switched on and beckoned them into an immaculate carpeted space.

‘This is unbelievable!’ said Rachel. ‘I mean, wow! How did you find this?’

‘A friend of a friend,’ said Cam, leaning in for a kiss. ‘Welcome home.’

They entered through a large wooden door, walked through a corridor and into the main living area. Cam searched for the light switch, then stumbled as someone clapped hands in the dark.

The lights snapped on.

‘Surprise!’ said the room.

Rachel jumped backwards, hit the wall, dropped her handbag and screamed.

Eight strangers stood with glasses raised and smiles plastered across their faces. Cam didn’t recognise any of them. A tall guy in an open-necked white-collared shirt and a blue suit stepped forward to shake his hand.

‘Cameron, I’m Paul Fredericks,’ he said. ‘We’ve been speaking through a mutual colleague who managed to connect us and get you out here. This is my wife, Melanie.’

She curtseyed, which seemed a little odd.

‘Behind me, Steve and Rochelle, to my left Gerry and Amanda. In the corner here, Douglas and Francine.’

Cam gathered himself, stretched his jaw into a corporate grin and shook hands while introducing Rachel.

Paul continued. ‘Sorry if we scared you. We wanted to welcome you in.’

Cam waved it way. ‘Not at all. Thanks for coming out everyone, we really appreciate it. It’s not often you get such a, ah … friendly welcome.’

‘Well, that’s what we do out here,’ said Douglas, running his hand through thinning hair. ‘Champagne?’

‘Why not?’ said Rachel dropping her bag in a corner, taking a flute.

‘ was a bit weird, wasn’t it?’ she asked him, lying in the dark.

He was almost asleep, answering through the side of his mouth. ‘I thought it was kind of sweet; though yeah, not what we’re used to.’

‘Hmmm.’

She drifted off, dreaming of all of those movies she’d seen in her youth. Of Norman Bates and the ill-fated guests who’d bunked for a night at his hotel; of Jack and The Shining; of Frank N. Furter and Tim Curry’s oversized lips; before finally, sleep took her.

She woke late the next day tied up in sheets, alone in bed. Cam had probably gone for a run. The sun flooded in through the large French doors that opened on to an expanse of green.

What was this place? She tightened her robe and stepped outside. She could hear a tractor in the distance. Blackbirds flew overhead under a bright cloudless sky. There were large trees at the back of the property, low-lying hedges on either side with gaps in between to walk through. It seemed the open-door policy extended to the backyard as well.

They’d left an apartment in Grey Lynn behind them. They’d had great friends, though had been told kids weren’t going to be part of their equation. As more of their broader circle became pregnant, the conversation had changed. It had become something she couldn’t quite deal with, something she no longer felt part of.

Neither of them had brothers or sisters. Both sets of parents were gone, which meant they had no ties. They were travellers, discoverers. The urban road map of life wasn’t something they subscribed to, so when Cam was offered a new job in Hamilton, they talked about it. She was a consultant who was brought in on contracts, so could work remotely as long as the WiFi speeds were good. This place had fibre. Weird, given the surrounding areas seemed to have almost no coverage at all. She wasn’t complaining.

She could see thin columns of smoke rising from separate burns in paddocks beyond the trees. They rose like elongated grey fingers that seemed to coalesce, then disperse into a thin grey layer beneath the blue above.

‘Hey, honey, have you been using my laptop ?’

‘No, why?’ replied Cam.

Rachel searched the cache in her browser. There were all sorts of websites and links that she had never been near. Her husband’s itinerary for an upcoming business trip had also been accessed, though she’d dropped that into her phone ages ago, so had no need for it. She had an encrypted file that, thankfully, hadn’t been touched.

‘Everything ok?’

‘Yeah yeah … just a little strange is all. I was chatting to Francine the other day, over the fence. Do you know who lived here before us?’

‘No, don’t think so. Should I?’

‘She mentioned a young couple that lived here. It was kind of odd because she smiled when she told me they didn’t last long.’

‘Well, that could be anything. Where did they go?’

‘Don’t know. It was odd.’

‘I wouldn’t worry. She’s odd.’

‘Hmm. I found a diary the other day. It had been jammed in the back of a drawer in the bathroom vanity. It wasn’t closing so I pulled the drawer out. It must have fallen in behind.’

‘Oh yeah? Anything interesting?’

‘Not really. Just an unhappy writer, though I haven’t finished it.’

‘Can’t say I’ve met many joyous ones. Anyone, we know?’

He’d been away only for a day when it started. The first thing to happen was the power going out. She was midway through a Netflix series when a power surge sucked the life from the TV. The kitchen lights exploded, sending shards of glass in all directions. She’d cut her feet looking for the fuse box before giving up, resigning herself to a cold dinner.

She finished the diary by candlelight. None of it made sense. The writing became more erratic, before ending in heavily scrawled circles of what looked like smoke — and a plea for help.

The next day she discovered a black cat with its head stuck in the mains box. She covered her mouth to stop her scream, as the last thing she wanted was to become a rallying point for her neighbours.

From whichever angle she looked, she couldn’t figure out how the cat had got stuck in the box, which was attached to the side of the house

Rachel drove into town that morning. She didn’t need anything, apart from a bit of distance from the house.

Later she called an electrician, who restored the power. As he left, Douglas appeared beside her gate. ‘You ok?’

‘Yeah … ah, good thanks, Douglas. Just a power outage is all.’

‘Call me Doug. Wasn’t a cat was it?’

Rachel didn’t know how to respond. ‘Sorry?’

‘A cat,’ he said. ‘They’re feral out here. Get up to all kinds of stupid things.’

She paused before she spoke. ‘Ah no, nothing like that.’ She smiled as she turned for the door.

‘Well, you just shout if you need anything. We’re always here.’

She closed it, then reached for the curtain and pulled it to one side. He was still there, motionless, watching her door. ‘Yes, you are,’ she mumbled to herself.

She called Cam. No answer. Bastard! He was probably sipping mai tais on the side of the pool in the Gold Coast. This was absolute bullshit.

It was quiet that night. Rachel read a book — something whimsical — on her couch, wrapped in a blanket. She soon fell asleep and dreamed of a girl in her house. A girl with dark hair, like her own, though she was smaller, paler. She watched as the girl scrawled words across the walls; words that weren’t readable, letters that became circles, then deep grooves that cut through the paint and jib-board. It was the same pattern, over and over again.

Rachel woke with a cushion stuck to the side of her mouth. As she stood, her shin collided with the coffee table, sending shooting pain up her leg.

A knocking at the door had woken her. She retied her robe, went to the kitchen sink and splashed water on her face. The oven clock said 5:30 am. She shook her head then went for the door, fully prepared to let fly.

Paul stood there, dressed immaculately as ever, this time in a hunting suit. A rifle was cocked neatly over one shoulder.

He smiled. ‘Good morning, Rachel. Sorry to wake you so early. I heard through the grapevine that you might have had a scare yesterday. I understand that Cameron is away and thought you could do with a bit of a distraction. Ever been hunting?’

‘What?’

‘Hunting. Duck shooting, to be specific. We’ve got a Mai Mai on a private lake not far from here and as luck would have it, we’re in season.’

That grin again.

‘I’ve never … um … hunted or anything.’

‘That’s ok. First time for everything. Put these on,’ he said, handing her some waders and a jacket.

‘Paul. It’s five-thirty in the morning!’

‘Exactly! Sunrise is just around the corner. I’ve packed us lunch. Steve and Rochelle have got the coffee. Get changed and we’ll meet you in the car in five.’

‘That’s it. Brace yourself … squeeze the trigger.’ Paul’s hand fell on her shoulder. ‘And fire.’

The rifle roared and pulled Rachel to one side. Without Paul’s hand, she would have ended up face down in the lake. She didn’t have to look to know that her shot had followed her sideways. The reverb was stronger than anything she’d encountered. The duck she was aiming for flew out towards the middle of the lake before another rifle sounded, bringing it down. Rochelle smiled at her as she released two shells from the chamber.

‘That wasn’t bad,’ said Paul, ‘though you need to let them get some distance. Scare them into space so you can anticipate where they’re going, and take advantage of that.’

All thoughts of the cat had been lost to adrenaline and the hunt for ducks. Thoughts of Cam’s conference had fallen away. Together, they were a pack on the move, searching for a meal they’d take home.

They were successful, bagging five. Rachel helped them pluck and roast the ducks, one for each household. They’d feasted well, cheering themselves with red wine to wash it down.

Rachel slept like a log, waking the next day with a slight hangover. She ignored the day, hiding behind curtains and a Shortland Street omnibus.

There was a fire that night, big enough that the sound of wood popping and cracking under a still night sky woke her. She heard some sort of singing — chanting –, before she saw shadows circling it.

She pulled on a dark jacket and boots, snuck behind the house, and then approached from a distance. They were all out there, howling like banshees under a full moon. It was cold, well after midnight, yet they were naked, their faces painted. She counted them one by one. Slowly. Wanting to make sure they were all accounted for, to bear witness to whatever this messed-up scenario was. She gagged when she counted seven.

‘You alright there?’ said Gerry standing naked, quietly beside her.

She screamed, loud enough for the faces to turn towards her own. She ran, tripped on her boots in the long grass then pulled herself forward, on to her lawn and towards the house, her heart racing. She slammed the door shut and scrambled for her phone.

‘Cam? Cam!’

‘Rach? Are you ok? What is it, honey?’

‘They’re all mad. These people are crazy. We need to get the hell of out here!’

‘What do you mean? What’s happened?’

‘They’re naked … they’re … they’re running around a fire. They killed a cat.’

‘What? Honey, you need to calm down!’

‘I won’t bloody calm down! This place is all wrong. I want to leave.’

‘Honey. I’m home in a day. Let’s talk it through when I’m back. Just take a breath.’

‘You take a damn breath! These people are crazy!’

‘Sweetie … honey. I need you to–’

She hung up.

Rachel woke tired; her head hurt and she was thirsty. She managed to rise before dawn. She pulled her boots on, grabbed the same dark jacket and made her way out to the smoking field in the early light. She was scared, though she forced herself to push through it. She wanted to be sure that what she’d seen hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

A circle of ash told her all she needed to know. She grabbed a stick and prodded through the ashes. She could see something poking out

She spun around, looked back at the house. It seemed a long way away.

‘You okay there, Rach?’ said Paul appearing to her left, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

‘Jesus! Paul. What are you doing there? Are you following me?’

‘I could ask the same thing.’

He looked tired, though in a weird way, content. Like he was coming down off a trip or something. He stared off into the distance with grey-blue eyes.

‘What’s with all the pictures?’

‘Just a hobby of mine is all.’

He licked his lips and stared at her. ‘Yeah. I’m not so sure. I’ll need your phone.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me, the phone.’ He held out his hand.

She pulled away and collided with Doug who had snuck up beside her. He took her wrist and ripped the phone from her hand, tucking it into his pocket.

‘Hey!’ she said, rubbing her wrist.

‘You shouldn’t have brought that electrician out here for the cat. We could’ve helped,’ said Doug.

‘I’d imagine so. Was it you that put it there?’

‘That what you think?’ said Paul.

‘I’m not sure what it is you guys are doing out here, but I’m leaving.’

Paul smiled. A big toothy grin that looked nothing like the smile he’d greeted them with on their first night. ‘You’re welcome to try. After all, that’s what we brought you out here for. Right, Doug?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Francine?’ he said.

‘That’s right sir,’ she answered, approaching through the tall grass. A few of the others followed behind her.

‘I … I’m not sure I understand.’

He studied her. ‘You’re a sport, honey. You and your husband were vetted before getting here. You’ve been checked for relatives, for children, sorry — I should say your inability to have them. Both of your parents are deceased. The work you’re doing at the moment is for us. We’re your benefactors — HG3. It’s bogus. Your husband’s’ job, his conference — it’s all a sham. You’re ghosts that won’t be missed, like so many before you.’

‘I don’t understand. This place … it’s a trap?’

‘Let’s put “honey” in front of that and I’ll agree. Nice, isn’t it?’

‘Why?’

‘To pass the time, I guess. We’re all keen hunters you see, and sometimes, like the other day, ducks just aren’t enough.’

Rachel slapped him hard enough for his bottom lip to bleed. He ran his tongue over it and smiled back at her with blood on his teeth.

‘Where’s everybody else?’ she said looking around.

‘Oh, they’re watching. Waiting.’

‘For what?’

‘Well, for you to start running, of course!’ he said laughing. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll give you a sporting chance. We’ll count to one hundred before we come for you. Take what you want from the house, there’s no point in locking yourself in, but you know that already. One. Two. Three. Four …’

Rachel stood still, her face squarely in front of his own.

‘… Eleven. Twelve. Don’t make it too easy for us. Thirteen …’

She didn’t move, just stood in front of him and watched his mouth reel off numbers.

‘… Twenty-three. Twenty-four …’

With that, she raised a hand high in the air, made a fist and pulled it back down towards herself.

Paul stopped counting. A shot rang out from a distance and a bullet slammed into his shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the ground. He groaned, rolled over and looked up, puzzled, as he searched her face.

‘My name is Phoebe. I didn’t have to scare you. I just needed you to think you’d scared me.’

The others turned to run as Cam, the electrician and the rest of the police swarmed in.