Legacies of SAW

Test 1 Part 1: Vehicular Imprisonment

Jason Donovan awoke slowly, as if coming out of a deep dream. Shadows of grey and black swam behind his eye lids, and when he at last gathered the strength to open them, only darkness greeted him. His brain struggled to activate its processes; he felt sluggish and strangely fatigued. Even his eyeballs felt raw and irritated. Cautiously he looked to his left and right, trying to figure out where he was as his night vision slowly improved. He almost panicked when he found he couldn't move, but as realisation dawned, he relaxed.

Jason was strapped securely in his car, somewhere in the dark. 'What the hell had he done last night?' his awakening mind thought. Did he get wasted? Attempt to drive? Fall asleep at the wheel? Nah… couldn't have. He would remember something.

He could make out the outlines of his cars interior now; the familiar leather seats, the snazzy steering wheel and the custom designed dash. Jason let out a sigh, feeling the tension from awaking in what he thought was a strange place, draining from his body. He was almost smiling as he reached down to unclip the seat belt.

Though he knew where he was – in the luxury cab of his ultra cool vehicle – he was still troubled by where this ultra cool vehicle was now located. 'Oh god,' he hoped, 'please don't let me have fallen asleep and hit a tree or something. I can't afford it, one accident a week is enough.' He pressed his face close to the driver's side window and peered out.

Darkness. Only darkness. Shuffling to the passenger side, he did likewise. Nothing on that side either. In fact, aside from a faint glow coming from the dash, the whole car seemed to be enveloped in a lightless vortex. Where the hell was he? Had he parked in his garage and not made it out for some reason? Jason shook his head, and decided he really didn't care. He'd just open the door, get out, and grope around till he found something. Leaning back over the driver's side, he put his hand under the door handle, and gave it a tug.

Searing pain pierced his fingers, and he pulled his hand away screaming. Dark liquid squirted from Jason's fingertips, hitting the windshield and side window. He couldn't help but cry out again, seeing the deep slices that had been cut perhaps three centimetres into his flesh. The pain was unbearable. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he quickly opened a small box beside his seat, searching through the contents.

With relief he found his windshield cleaning cloth and wrapped it tightly around his hand. It slowed the flow of blood, but not the dull throb that seemed to be spreading down his fingers and into his palm, making the muscles ache and tighten. Jason lent back in his leather seat, eyes screwed shut with concentration, jaw clenched like an iron band.

"What the FUCK?" he screamed, feeling a bit better for the outburst. Though he doubted anyone would hear him, he decided to vent some more. "What the fuck is this? Where am I? What the hell is going on?"

As expected, no reply came, but his head felt clearer. Perhaps the shock, pain and outburst had helped to shake whatever that strange fatigue was that had been shrouding his mind. He gritted his teeth and bent down, trying to see under the handle. In the dull light of the dash, something glinted back at him.

Razorblades.

Jason sat back in his seat fast, still holding his hand. His eyes were wide now, and if he'd cared to look in the revision mirror he would have seen how pale his complexion had become. Confusion crept back in his mind, and that panic that had almost gripped him from the start began to burble in the pit of his stomach.

'Shit', he thought, 'shit shit. What's going on?' He leaned over to the passengers side and tried to see under that handle. The dash glow was too weak to reach there, but he could make out the faint outline of something jagged and irregular. He wasn't going to test it.

His night vision had reached its peak now, and he could see the front interior of his car quite well. He'd already had a sneaking suspicion, and a glance towards the ignition confirmed it. The keys weren't there. Removed. More glances brought the panic higher, crawling ever further up his throat. Doors locked (central locking: ah, the wonders of the modern age), windows sealed. He was beginning to think this may not be an ordinary morning-after where-the-hell-am-I incident.

Though he was on the brink of losing it, it suddenly occurred to Jason that perhaps he should observe the source of the light on the dashboard. If there was power, perhaps there would be another way to get out of the car. Hotwire it or something. Or at least turn on the headlights. He squinted in the gloom, trying to make out the light.

"11:40" winked back at him. It was the LCD of his CD player; some how it was still active. He reached out and pressed the buttons, switching over from CD, to MP3, and finally radio. A high pitched squeal filled the car, and he winced, immediately turned the volume down.

Twiddling the tuning knobs produced much the same responses; an endless hiss of angry serpentine impersonations. He could feel frustration furrowing his brow. 'C'mon, radio should work no matter where I am!' he scowled.

"..eeeeeeessshhhhheeeeeessshhhhhesssssundersssessssssssss"

Jason froze. Was that his imagination? He turned the knob back slowly, listening below the static.

"..eeeeeesshhhheeeeunder thesssehhh"

There it was. He homed in on it, finally finding the proper frequency. It was definitely a voice, though it was so faint he had to turn the volume almost to 95 before he could hear it.

"… under… the… seat…. under… the… seat…"

Three words. Repeated over and over on some kind of loop. It gave Jason the creeps, and he soon turned the volume down to 0 when he was sure it wasn't going to say anything else important. "Under the Seat"? Well, it wasn't like he had any other choice.

Fumbling somewhat nervously below his leather seat, the fingers of Jason's good hand very quickly closed around something cold, thin and circular. It was a CD. He brought it up to the dash glow to study it. It was a perfectly innocent looking CD, and except for the words "PLAY ME" scrawled across the non-data storing side in ominous black ink, Jason wouldn't have found anything suspicious about it.

Grimacing with uncertainty, he placed the CD into his dash's entertainment system, and hit play. There were a few familiar clicks, whirrs and then that soft 'fwweeeeeeeee' sound as the CD started to spin. And seconds later, the voice followed.

"Hello Jason," it said, flowing out of his surround sound system from all sides. It was a very low, slightly terrifying voice, altered through some kind of electronic process to give it an inhuman warbling effect. It sent chills down his spine, and beads of sweat formed instantly on his forehead. This could only mean trouble.

"Hello Jason. You don't know me, but I know you. I know all about you. And I want to play a game."