A Thanksgiving Game

It’s that time of the year again, the time when Keven’s small, but chaotic family gets together for Thanksgiving dinner. He knew he couldn’t skip out on it, even if he wanted to. Without Keven’s influence, God knows how the night would go. It would more than likely end with one of them or all of them, dying.

These dinners were a little different than what most would expect, the fact that they always ended in fights and arguments was probably the only thing about it that resembled a normal family gathering.

Every year it was the same thing, yet pulling into the long driveway, the clouds thick and grey, Keven couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, or his stomach from turning. All he wanted to do was back down the driveway and leave, but he couldn’t do that. The last person who skipped out on dinner wound up missing and presumed dead anyway, and Keven couldn’t help but think it would have been a fate much worse than anything that could have happened at dinner.

He glanced down at the time and felt his heart miss a beat, his blood turning ice cold, dinner would be starting soon. He turned the ignition off and stared up at the old house. It looked so unassuming, no one could tell from the outside, the horrors that lay within its walls, even if only once a year.

He opened the door and slowly made my way inside. The sound of chatter met his ears, causing them to ring, and for his head to throb. Every year it came down to him, it was always Keven who had to ensure that they won, but not this year, no, this year he was going to sit back and let somebody else take that responsibility.

           “You ready for another year, kid?” his uncle’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

He looked up, his brain fuzzy, his eyes blurry and nodded his head. His uncle had a big smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, no, they were cold, and Keven could see the fear in them. He could feel the fear and tension coming from everybody, it hung thick in the air, the slightest inconvenience he knew, would set everybody off.

He walked over to the lounge and sat down, the large television in front of him already on, though nothing played on its screen. His eyes moved over to the dinner table, all setup and ready for this yearly event. If anything, at least he would be eating well tonight.

The sounds of Keven’s two older brothers arguing sounded from a room deeper in the house, yelling and swearing, sounds that always accompanied them whenever they were in the same room.

Keven looked around the familiar area, he had spent every Thanksgiving since he could remember here and probably more. The lights were dim and the fireplace in the corner cast a yellow glow over the room, casting eerie shadows but keeping out the frigid cold. The house was only small, but on Thanksgiving night, it felt even smaller.

           “They’re at it already?” Keven muttered, releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Couldn’t even wait until after dinner?”

Keven’s father walked into the room and gave him a curt nod before standing in front of the television. His short hair frizzled, heavy eyebags which told Keven he hadn’t been sleeping, shit, did anyone sleep on the lead-up to Thanksgiving dinner? He yelled out for Keven’s brothers to join them and once the two men came storming into the lounge room, Matthew’s face, red with anger, lightened as he smiled and sat down next to him. Out of the three brothers, Keven and Matthew had always been the closest.

           “Last year was a shit show,” his dad announced to the room. “This year we need to work together.”

           “Well maybe if Alden actually listened to anyone…” Matthew started, but their dad cut him off.

           “See, it’s shit like this that almost got us killed last year. We need a pecking order, and we need it established before we start playing.”

Matthew looked over at Keven with a smirk on his face. “Well, I vote that me and Keven be in charge,” he said, pushing his dark hair off his face.

           “Man don’t bring me into this. I’m not getting involved this year,” Keven replied.

           “You’re joking right?” he questioned, “you really trust these people to not get you killed?”

           “Matthew!” their mother hissed. “Don’t call us ‘these people’.”

Keven shrugged and sat back further into his seat. “I always get way too worked up, not this year.”

           “See it’s an attitude like that which has gotten so many of us killed,” Alden snapped.

           “Shut up Alden, Keven normally saves your ass anyway.”

           “Stop fighting!” their father yelled, his, voice causing the room to fall silent. Alden was right, there were only six of them left, but there used to be more.

The television behind him went static for a second, causing the already tense room to stiffen. The room now cast in the blue light of the screen, a pixelated man, one Keven had seen every year for his entire life stood, an overly large smile on his face.

           “Welcome to another year,” the digital voice sounded through the old speaker.

Keven felt his heart speed up, he struggled to swallow and his hands shook, he tried to stop the shaking but no matter how hard he concentrated on calming his nerves, they wouldn’t stop moving. Instead, he tried to hide them.

           “What is this?” their mother asked in a high-pitched tone, which caused Keven to close my eyes for a second, the pitch ringing through his head. “It’s not supposed to start yet,” she continued. 

           “This year, we decided to get this out of the way before we all settle into our Thanksgiving meals,” the voice said. The smile on his face vicious, revelling in the fear and confusion he was causing. “Shake things up a little.”

Matthew looked over at Keven, his face pale, his eyes wide. Keven shook my head, every year he got worked up about something, but not this year.

“Pick your players,” the voice said.

“So much for strategizing,” Matthew murmured.

The screen went black, a list of their names on the right side of the screen. The game always knew when someone had died, either naturally or through the game itself, as their name wouldn’t be listed again.

After so many years of this, they knew how it was going to go. The game didn’t want them knowing what game was going to be played that year, it didn’t want people being prepared, being able to pick the best player for it. Keven was the better player when it came to shooting games or fighting games. Matthew was best at the driving games and Alden was the family quiz master.

           “Tony?” their mother said softly to their father. “Who should play?”

The room went silent, Keven could hear his heart thumping in his ears, the blood rushing to his head. No one wanted the responsibility to be that year’s player, but everybody wanted some sort of control.

But not Keven, not this year.

           “I’ll do it!” Alden finally announced. He tried to sound confident, but the slight shake in his voice gave away his hesitation.

           “Dude, I swear to god … anyone but Alden,” Matthew hissed, but Alden had already stood and taken the controller. His name in the list lit up and the screen faded to black, there was no going back.

After a second of thick silence, the screen flashed green, before badly animated zombies walked across the screen.

“Shit,” Alden mumbled, the green glow of the screen making him look like one of the dead.

“I knew it,” Matthew said, shaking his head.

“You don't know shit!” Alden hissed back.

The zombies on the screen stopped and turned to stare out at them all. The one in front had green, rotting skin that was falling off the bone beneath it. He had no hair, only a few tuffs and his eyes looked as though they were staring directly at them.

A menu appeared on the screen with only two options—Play and Rules.

           “We don’t need to see the rules,” Alden stated, turning Keven’s blood cold.

           “That's stupid …” he started to protest, before stopping himself.

Not this year, he wasn’t going to get involved this year.

           “Why, we know the rules. Kill the zombies, or die,” he spat back. Keven held his tongue, though he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. 

Alden hit the play button, and the screen went black once again.

The next time the screen flashed with colour, a cartoon of the house they were all sitting in appeared on the screen. Despite the bad graphics, it got every little detail correct. From the patterned rug, to every one of us gathered in the lounge room, and the pictures on the wall, it was a perfect replica of the real house. Their father jumped to his feet and grabbed one of the weapons he had set out on the floor next to the front door. Every year they tried to ready themselves as much as they could, but they never knew what game they’d be up against.

He grabbed a long-handled axe and walked out of sight, towards the back door, though they could still see his animated figure on the screen in front of them. Matthew stood up and grabbed a small pistol, he looked it over before chucking it at Keven.

           “I don’t think so!” their uncle yelled, standing, and walking towards him.

           “We all know Keven is the one with the best shot, he gets the gun,” Matthew started, but Keven wasn’t going to fight for it. It was always a fight for the gun, and despite the growing anger in his stomach, he gave the gun up, knowing his uncle was a terrible shot. Matthew shook his head, his face turning red and his eyes narrowed.

           “We don’t have time for this,” their mother shrieked, the sound bouncing around Keven’s brain. His head was throbbing, and every sound was unbearable. Matthew grabbed a bat and stood by the front door, his figure on the screen doing the same thing.

Loud growling sounds started to come through the speaker, though the sound seemed to come from each and every corner of the room. 

           “Secure the front door first!” their uncle yelled, standing, and pacing the room, the gun limp in his hand.

           “Let him concentrate!” their mother snapped back.

           “Everyone needs to shut up and let me concentrate,” Alden hissed, not taking his eyes off the screen. His character on the screen ran to the kitchen, though he stayed in front of the television. He opened the drawer to where he knew the bigger knives to be, before he ran towards the weapons on the floor. This was a waste of time, weapons that weren’t part of the normal household inventory, would not be in the game, but Keven kept his mouth shut, trying to will his blood pressure back down.

           “The window!” their uncle screeched, causing Keven to jump.

           “Shut up, please,” Alden pleaded, yet his character on the screen made its way towards where the window was. A crack of thunder sounded; thunder boomed through the game at the same time. Keven glanced towards the real-life window, how had someone forgotten to close it? He jumped up, rushing towards it, if Alden couldn’t stop the zombies from getting through on the game, he needed to make it as hard as possible for them to get into the real house. He managed to slam it closed, as two decomposing hands reached through the window in the game. Alden waited as the zombie pulled itself up, the moment the head appeared in the window, he lifted the knife and stabbed down.

The back door started to vibrate, with the many animated zombies slamming themselves into the wood. Alden ran over and waited for them to break through. Why was he waiting? But Keven kept his mouth shut.

           “Do something!” their uncle yelled.

           “For god’s sake, let him concentrate,” Matthew snapped. “I really think Keven should have played, he is better at these kinds of games,” he continued.

           “Who gives a flying …” Alden started.

           “Just concentrate!” their mother cut him off.

The back door burst open and in poured zombies. Alden started swinging, aiming for each rotten head, pixelated blood splattering over the animated floor, yet the real house remained clean, for now.

The front door in the game burst open, and three zombies walked into the room, they ran through, trying to find him, ignoring the rest of our characters as though we weren’t even there. I jumped to my feet and rushed over with my uncle in tow. He raised the gun as our real door burst open, and shot, the bullets missing, hitting none of them. Each zombie that Alden managed to kill in the game, exploded into nothing in the real house, but with their uncle missing the mark on each shot, and Matthew having nothing but a bat to use, the zombies were pushing further into the house. 

           “Secure the goddamn house!” their uncle yelled, his voice raising Keven's blood pressure even more, he could feel his temples pulsing, if he could just land one hit, they would be fine.

Alden’s character in the game ran through the house, trying to keep up with the ever-growing number of zombies. Keven rushed towards the backdoor, he could hear his father struggling and from the screen, it looked as though they were close to taking him down. Keven grabbed a hatchet from the pile on his way past, slamming it into the zombies coming in through the door. Once the door was clear, Keven rushed back into the lounge room. Alden was panicking, the rest of the family, yelling at him. Keven’s head throbbed harder, his heart beat faster. He knew I was on the verge of losing it, but he needed to stay calm, he needed to keep his temper.

The window next to him smashed, sending glass flying, shards cutting his face and that’s when he felt his temper explode.

He stormed over and ripped the gun from his uncle’s hand, God knows how many bullets he had wasted.

“Give me that back!” he yelled.

“Just shut up and let me deal with this, you’re going to get us all killed,” Keven shouted. He rushed forward, raising the gun.

“Matthew, move.”

Matthew threw himself to the side as the shots rang out, this time, the bullets hit their mark. The zombies dropped, disappearing as they hit the floor. Once he had cleared the front, he made his way to each of the windows, shooting any zombie trying to climb in. The gunshots were loud, but the sound drowned out the panicked shouts of his family, and for that, he was grateful. He could feel blood running down his face, but he ignored it, doing another round of the house, taking out any zombies that had spawned in.

A counter started to count down, he was nearing the end of the game. He kept going, knowing that in the last few minutes, another wave would come. Alden had managed to slow the number getting into the house and when the final sound came from the speaker, and the words ‘You Survived’ flashed across the screen, Keven dropped to the floor, the gun landing with a thud next to him.

His body ached, and trembled, he felt as though he was going to vomit.

Their mother rushed towards the back of the house to check on their father, but they all knew that he was ok. The television would have said if they had a fatality.

           “I could have done it!” their uncle hissed; his eyes narrow and filled with rage.

           “I’m sure you could have,” Keven replied, standing up and walking over to the dinner table and sitting down. It was finally time to eat, to celebrate another Thanksgiving, and like every year, the arguments about who did what wrong would ensue, but at least they were here to fight about it. The years where they didn’t fight, were the worst ones. They only ever ate in silence on the years when they lost someone.

So, that night, the sound of people fighting was one of the most beautiful sounds Keven could have asked for this Thanksgiving.