The App. First Chapter.

Jonathan Rushmore stared at the TV in the living room as his mother walked in. Her vanilla and rose perfume wafted towards him, making him sneeze.

'Right, we're off. Don't answer the door to anyone, don't leave the house and don't watch too much TV.'

'Mum, I'm sixteen, not six.' Jonathan glanced at her long yellow dress and sensible flat shoes. Her cheeks were dusted with a dark red blusher, and her eyebrows were thick with black pencil. He turned back towards the TV; the next level began, the sound effects blaring as a yellow smiley face raced around collecting pellets.

Gill smirked at the almost comical irritated expression on her son's face. His black, curly hair was messy and spiked at the front, clumped together with gel.

Gill glared at the screen. 'So what's this Pac-Man then?'

Jonathan placed the controller in his lap and turned towards her, his face now bright with excitement. 'Oh, you have to collect all the pellets and avoid the ghosts. You want a go?'

'Another time. We have to leave now if we're going to catch the film. Your father's taking me to see the new Bond film. For Your Eyes Only. It's not my thing, but he loves all that macho stuff. But, Jonathan, please don't play computer games all the time. Don't make Dad and I regret getting it for you. There's a reason we bought you that Chopper bike and roller skates. So you could go out with your friends and get some fresh air. It's not healthy being cooped up all your life.'

'All my friends play computer games. I'm not the only one.'

'Right. That's the back door locked. You ready, Gill?' Adam, Jonathan's father, interrupted, walking into the living room, dressed in a loud green jacket, blue jeans and Cuban boots. He'd combed his brown hair over to the right, covering the bald patch, and his moustache had been curled perfectly at each end. His cheap aftershave mixed with Gill's perfume, creating a noxious scent. 'What do you think, son? Your old man's still got it.'

Jonathan wanted to laugh at his father's dress sense, but only just managed to stem the explosion threatening to spill from his lips. Instead, he smiled awkwardly and turned back towards the TV.

'Now, before we go, your mum and I have had a little chat. It's the first time that we're leaving you alone, but you have to earn our trust if you want to keep the freedom.' Pointing his finger, Adam declared, 'Behave. I don't want any of the neighbours complaining to me about the loud music. Don't let us down. We're trusting you. I want you in bed by ten p.m. Understood?'

'Understood,' Jonathan muttered.

Adam stepped forward. 'I didn't quite hear that.'

'Leave it, Adam,' Gill insisted.

'I said, understood.'

'Good lad.' His father left the room, opened the front door and walked out to the brown Ford Cortina parked on the drive.

In the living room, Gill rubbed a hand through Jonathan's black curls. 'We'll be back by eleven thirty. Any problems, go next door to Mavis and wait with her until we return.'

'Nothing's going to happen. Just go. Enjoy the film.'

Gill leant forward, kissed her son on the forehead, then walked down the hallway to the raucous clatter of Pac-Man desperately trying to evade the ghosts.

The front door closed. Through the living room window, Jonathan watched the Ford Cortina spew smoke onto the drive. God, he was so embarrassed to have anything to do with it. A moment later, it was gone.

Picking up the walkie-talkie hidden under the sofa, Jonathan eagerly pressed his thumb against the side button. 'Luke. Over.'

A loud, scrambling noise resounded, and a voice came through. 'Here. Over.'

Again, Jonathan pressed firmly against the side button. 'My parents have gone. Over and out.'

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang out, like an out-of-tune church organ, slowly giving up a fruitless call to its parishioners. It continued to reverberate as Jonathan walked along the hallway and answered the front door.

'Man. You need to do something about that,' Luke stated as he walked inside the house. He looked younger than sixteen. A baseball cap worn backwards hid his long black hair, and his voice was high-pitched and enthusiastic.

'My dad thinks it's cool. I hate it.' Jonathan walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.

Luke joined him. 'Oh wow. You got Pac-Man. Let me have a go.'

Handing the remote control to his friend, Jonathan walked out to the kitchen and filled two glasses with Coke.

Back in the living room, he placed the glasses on the coffee table. Luke was pounding the controller with vigour as he tried to evade the ghosts on the screen. He nearly knocked the drinks with all his enthusiasm.

'Hey, watch it. Don't spill the Coke. Dad will go crazy if we get any on the carpet.'

Luke nodded as the level finished, carefully reaching for a glass.

A white, Austin Morris Mini Van pulled onto the drive. Jonathan stood, peering out of the living room window. 'He's here. I'll grab a video.'

'Get something scary,' Luke called. 'There's that werewolf film in London. That's supposed to be sick.'

Jonathan walked along the hallway and out to the van.

'Hey, Jonathan. You OK?' Harry asked as he opened the van door and stepped onto the drive. As he spoke, a plume of condensation spilt from his mouth, and he zipped his jacket up to his neck with his fingerless gloves to keep warm. His thick black hair was floppy, his brown eyes damp, and his lips were chapped from the cold weather.

Nodding, Jonathan declared, 'We want something scary.' He walked to the back of the van, the familiar smell of damp cardboard invading his senses as he leant over the rows of boxes, his eyes bulging at the array of films. Thrillers, romance, comedies, and some naughtier ones towards the back.

Jonathan knew what he wanted. He'd heard about them. A couple of older kids in the neighbourhood had seen them. He needed to ask. Reaching towards the back of the van, he placed a hand on one of the plain covers. 'What are these?'

The guy looked at Jonathan, somewhat uncomfortable. 'Mate, I don't think you'll like them. They're a bit… what's the word? Warped.'

Picking one of the plain cases out, Jonathan turned it over and read the back. A crocodile attack, the circus ringleader and the lion and other real-life footage. 'I want this,' Jonathan confirmed.

Harry turned, rubbing the stubble on his face. 'Mate, your dad will kill me if he finds out. Can't you get something else? I've seen a couple of these. Jonathan, man, they're hideous. I can't let you watch it.'

Jonathan dipped a hand into his pyjama pocket and held out the case to the driver. 'This is the one I want.' The driver hesitated, before sighing and taking the money as the teenager walked inside, closing the front door.

Back in the living room, Jonathan tipped the box on its side, spilling the video cassette into his hand, and then loaded it into the VHS player. Switching the lead in the back of the TV, he hit 'play', then took a seat as white noise and digits displaying the date of the recording appeared on the screen.

'What's this?' Luke asked.

'Just watch. You wanted something scary. This is scary.'

The picture of a man standing by the side of a lake flickered into life. Subtitles confirmed the location to be Florida. The sun gleamed from the sky, and the camera was shaky as it tried to focus on the horizon. It panned over a small mountain in the distance and across yellow-coloured fields stained by the heat until it returned to the man.

'Are you going in?' a woman's voice asked from behind the camera.

The man turned, smiling into the lens as the camera zoomed in on his grey hair and down his tanned body. His bright shorts reached his knees, and as he kicked off his sandals, he stepped into the water. Relief from the warm day seemed to wash over him as he lowered himself into the water.

'Is it nice?'

A large splash formed as the guy began swimming further into the lake. 'Beautiful!' he shouted.

'Don't go too far out, OK?' the woman said. She tried to focus the camera on the man as he swam, but it became blurry, flickering, dancing between the lake and the sky.

It focused again on the lake, picking out a dark shadow gliding fast through the water towards him.

'Bert! There's something there,' the woman shouted. 'Get out of the water!'

There was a tremendous splash and screams echoed from the TV screen. Bert's hand clasped the air, outstretched and then disappeared as his body was dragged under.

Luke sat on the edge of the sofa, too stunned to talk.

The tape cut to static before focusing again on another scene. A lion in a cage, possibly in a zoo or the back of a circus. Again, the footage was grainy and blurred. But this was more raw and clearer to see. The cage door opened, and the lion looked towards the man entering its space. The cameraman asked what the guy was doing.

'It's OK, just film. I'm used to this one. He's a big softy. I want people to realise if you treat them with respect, feed them and show them love, they can be tame and love back.'

As the man edged towards the lion, the camera recorded his every move through the rusty iron bars. The sound of stones crunching under his shoes, his breaths sharp, tension rife in his voice as he told the person to keep filming. The lion pounced; a ferocious roar bellowed from the cage as it leapt on him, pinning him to the ground. The camera spun around, swirling and unfocused, the desperate pleas for help spilling from the cage as the cameraman screamed for help. The camera dropped to the ground, although on its side, it kept filming through the iron bars as the lion began taking chunks from the keeper's limp body.

Luke stood, unsteady on his feet. 'This stuff is twisted. No, you're twisted, Jonathan. I can't believe you like this shit.' He clutched his stomach with one hand, the arm of the chair with the other. His face had gone pale. 'Oh God, I think I'm gonna puke.' He turned and threw up all over the sofa.

'Luke! What the hell? My dad's going to go crazy.' Jonathan looked towards the vomit. 'Clean it up. Clean it now, you idiot.'

'Nah, no way. I need to get out of here.' Racing from the living room, Luke ran out the front door and across the street to his house.

Jonathan turned off the video, cleaned up the vomit and put Pac-Man back on, watching as the yellow circular figure waltzed around the screen, collecting pellets, the ghosts desperate to get out and give chase.

It was all about the hunt.