The Odds, page 15
Gavin and Butch’s replacements arrived exactly on time. Their names were Quincy and Tyler and they’d clearly been told exactly why they’d been sent to Kansas City, since they glared at Rick a lot and had no interest in any kind of small talk. Rick was kind of worried to make any sudden moves around them.
Ethan and Jenny both called in sick to work the next day, and they called the school to say their sons were sick. Rick was worried about this, since it was technically a departure from their standard routine, but he couldn’t imagine that there was any way Ethan would send Patrick and Tim off to school. Fortunately, The Claw Man didn’t have a problem with them staying home, since the players who’d been shot had been encouraged to stay home as well.
The surveillance was extremely tedious, but they couldn’t stop being fully attentive. It was simultaneously possible that Ethan would get scared by the long stretch of nothing happening and decide again that they needed to flee, and that he’d feel emboldened by the long stretch and assume they weren’t paying as close of attention to him.
But the Caustin family didn’t do anything to cause problems. They didn’t talk about the game at all. They stayed home and watched a lot of television. Their behavior was perfect. Considering the circumstances, they were handling things very well.
Ethan thought he was going to lose his fucking mind.
He didn’t want to be called for the next challenge, but staying home from work, keeping Patrick and Tim out of school, and being terrified to do anything that might set off a red flag for Rick’s bosses was driving him insane. He was proud of Jenny and the kids, but they were unquestionably feeling the strain, and he was frightened that one of them would finally snap.
He’d often thought that it would be so nice to be able to just sit on the couch and binge-watch television shows with no sense of guilt over the stuff he should be doing, but now that he was in this situation, he couldn’t enjoy the experience. They might as well have been watching the same episode of the same show over and over, since he wasn’t processing any of it.
This went on for three days. He couldn’t sleep. He had no appetite. And Rick wouldn’t give him any information about how much longer this was going to continue. Was the challenge imminent? Was it a week away? Was this the actual challenge—an endurance test to see how long he could last before he started clawing his own eyes out?
That moment might not be far away.
“It’s time,” said Quincy.
“Thank you,” said Rick, who knew perfectly well that it was time but who was trying to be as polite as possible to his co-workers. He called Ethan. On his monitor, he saw Ethan lunge for his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“It’s time for your next challenge.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you that. But I can tell you the odds.”
“I’m listening.”
“You have a one in three chance of winning a fantastic prize. You have a one in three chance of winning a good prize. And you have a one in three chance of incurring a penalty.”
“A penalty.”
“Right.”
“And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what the prizes or penalty is?” Ethan asked.
“I wish I could.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Are you asking for my honest professional opinion?”
“Yes.”
“You should do it.”
“Okay. Then I accept.”
“Great. A van is on the way to pick you up.”
“I’ll be here.”
They hung up. “Are you asking for my honest professional opinion?” had been obvious code for “Do you want the inside scoop that I’m not supposed to share with you?” And technically Rick had given him an honest answer, because he did truly believe that Ethan should accept the challenge in an attempt to win the prizes.
But, God, the penalty was horrific.
19
“That was work,” said Ethan. “They’re on the way to pick me up for another job.”
Jenny, Patrick, and Tim all looked very serious and scared. Ethan tried to give them a reassuring smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace.
“I’ll be totally fine. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”
They all got up off the couch. Ethan gave each of them a hug, trying to avoid the vibe that this could be a goodbye hug. He’d be fine. Rick had gone rogue and would make sure this all worked out okay.
He heard a vehicle pull into the driveway and went outside. It was a black van that could not have looked more sinister if it had a scary clown drawn on the side and a sign reading “Free Candy.” The side door slid open and Rick got out.
“Good morning,” said Rick. “How are you this fine day?”
“Never better.” Ethan walked over to the van. “Nothing quite like getting into a black van to make me feel at ease.”
Rick chuckled. “It’ll be fine. Climb on in.”
Ethan got into the van. The driver, who looked old enough to die of natural causes while operating the motor vehicle, glanced back and gave Ethan a polite nod. Nobody else was in there. Ethan sat down and fastened his seat belt as Rick climbed in after him and shut the door.
“Looks like you got screwed,” said the driver.
“Why?”
“You’re the closest. You got a van instead of a private jet.”
“Yeah, that does suck,” Ethan admitted.
As they drove off, Rick handed Ethan a phone. “It doesn’t have an Internet connection, but you can play games on it. Just to keep you entertained on the way.”
“How long is the drive?”
“Not too bad. Six hours.”
Ethan sighed. “Am I allowed to just sleep?”
“If you can, sure. Rest up.”
Ethan reclined the seat and tried to go to sleep, but of course that was a wasted effort. He tried to play some games on the phone and couldn’t focus on any of them. He tried again to sleep, unsuccessfully, and ultimately just settled for staring out the window as Rick immersed himself on whatever he was doing on a laptop computer.
The six hours did not pass quickly.
They stopped at a couple of rest areas for bathroom breaks. Ethan was not given any instructions not to run off, since apparently it wasn’t something that needed to be underscored at this point. He used the restroom and dutifully returned to the van.
“Not much further,” Rick told him as they pulled off the highway. They drove through a residential area, and then through an area that had more of a post-apocalyptic feel, where roving gangs of mutants would attack you to steal your teeth. Actually, the area just didn’t look like many people lived around there—the whole post-apocalyptic thing was added by Ethan’s imagination, which was going into some very dark places right now.
They pulled into a very long, winding driveway, finally parking in front of a large yellow house.
“We’re the first ones here,” said Rick. “That’s good. You’ve got some extra time to stretch your legs.”
They got out of the van and went inside the home. It was sparsely furnished and gave the impression of “second home that’s not used very often.” Rick offered Ethan and the driver a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then they sat on the living room couch.
“Do you want to watch television?” Rick asked.
“Nah, that’s all right,” said Ethan.
“Can I have the remote?” the driver asked.
Rick handed it over. The driver turned on the television, switched the channel to one of those courtroom shows, and sat back happily on the couch as he watched. Ethan just sat there, wondering when Rick might tell him what kind of advantage he had in the challenge. Maybe it would never be safe to tell him. He’d just have to trust the guy.
After about half an hour of shitty TV, Rick got a call. He said “Okay” a couple of times, hung up, then stood up. “We’re ready to go.”
Rick and Ethan went out to the backyard. A wooden fence, not quite as tall as Ethan, blocked everything from view. Five other people were standing there. Ethan had never met any of them, but from the expressions and body language, it was pretty obvious that a blonde woman and a man slightly younger than Ethan were the other two players.
A middle-aged man with an expensive looking haircut and too-white teeth walked over and shook Ethan’s hand. He wore a t-shirt with a giant crab claw on the front. “Pleased to finally meet you in person,” he said. “It’s great to shake the hand of somebody I’ve been spying on all this time.” He laughed. “Ethan, I want you to meet Kenny and Lisa. They’ll be your competitors in the next challenge.”
Ethan had guessed correctly. He assumed the other two people—a man and a woman—had the same job as Rick.
Lisa only appeared to be in her early twenties, and she looked extremely fit, like she jogged every day without hating every second of it. Kenny had a somewhat doughier body type, but in a one-on-one altercation, Ethan wasn’t sure he could take him. He hoped this wasn’t too physical of a challenge, and that Rick had taken care of him as promised.
Rick did not look like somebody who was confident that he had everything under control.
“Before I tell you about the challenge,” said The Claw Man, “I’ll tell you about the prizes.” He walked over to a small table, upon which rested a wooden box. He lifted the lid. “To the winner goes this unregistered, untraceable, fully loaded pistol. You’ll be glad to have it. Plus, you get a point.” He replaced the lid. “To the second place finisher, no weapon, but you also get a point.”
“When are you going to tell us what the points are for?” Kenny asked. The man next to him looked annoyed, as if they’d discussed this already.
The Claw Man ignored him. “Now I’m guessing that what you really want to know is what penalty the loser receives. So everybody follow me.”
The seven of them walked around the perimeter of the fence until they saw a shed. The Claw Man opened the door and gestured inside.
There was large steel barrel, resting upon what appeared to be a giant stovetop burner. Suspended from the ceiling was a pair of chains with handcuffs on the end.
“Inside that barrel is boiling oil,” said The Claw Man. “The loser of this challenge will be slowly lowered into the oil—feet first, because we don’t want the suffering to end too soon. I assume they’ll be dead before they’re completely submerged. I’m sure it’s not the worst possible way to die, but it’s not one of the better ones.”
Lisa and Kenny did not drop to their knees and beg for mercy, so Ethan didn’t, either.
“Oh, and there’s another prize,” said The Claw Man. “First place doesn’t have to watch. Second place won’t be so lucky.”
They walked away from the shed and back to where they’d been standing before. The Claw Man opened the gate to the fenced-in area.
“The rules are very simple,” he said. “You will run through the maze searching for three keys. Lisa, yours are red. Kenny, yours are green. Ethan, yours are blue. You may not steal somebody else’s keys. When you have all of your keys and have come back to the start, you’ve completed the challenge. Aside from that, all you have to worry about are all of the traps. Any questions?”
Nobody had any questions.
“Ethan, bad news for you, buddy. Because you had an unfair advantage in a previous challenge, we have to balance it out. You will be collecting four keys instead of three.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Ethan asked.
“Was I unclear? To win this challenge, you will have to collect four blue keys from inside the maze.”
Ethan wanted to protest. Yes, he’d escaped being shot by the fake drug dealers because he’d had inside information, but the penalty there was nowhere near as bad as being slowly lowered into a barrel of boiling oil. He would’ve taken the gunshots! However, it was very clear that arguing this would be a complete waste of breath.
He looked over at Rick again, hoping for a wink or a hand signal or something, anything to make him believe that things were under control. Instead, Rick averted his eyes.
That son of a bitch had completely screwed him over. Ethan should have thrown Jenny’s phone out the window as well and just kept driving.
“I asked you a question,” said The Claw Man. “Was I unclear?”
“No,” said Ethan.
“One last rule. This one’s important so everybody listen up. This is a competition, not a team-building exercise. However, if one of you dies inside the maze—and it’s entirely possible that this will happen—then the second-place finisher goes into the oil. So don’t try to kill each other while you’re in there. I wish it didn’t have to be said, but there was an incident earlier. Any questions?”
Kenny raised his hand.
“Yes?” The Claw Man asked.
“Can we injure each other?”
The Claw Man thought about that. “Knock yourself out. Or knock them out. You can try to stretch the rules if you want, but don’t let it bite you in the ass. Anybody else?”
Ethan and Lisa had no questions. Actually, Ethan had a million questions, but none that he should ask right now.
The Claw Man gestured to the maze. “Everybody step inside. Don’t start running yet.”
The three players walked into the maze. The walls on the inside were shorter than the fence, but Ethan couldn’t see over them. There were five different directions they could go, with the corridors wide enough that two (but not three) players could run side by side.
“Remember, it’s not enough to find all of your keys. You must exit the maze here.” He took out a gun. “On your mark...get set...go!”
He fired the gun into the air.
Kenny shoved Ethan against the wall.
“C’mon!” Kenny said to Lisa. “If we take him out now we can guarantee that we won’t lose!”
Lisa shook her head. “You do whatever you want,” she said, then she took off running down the far left path.
Kenny’s visible disappointment at her rejection of his plan was distraction enough for Ethan to punch him in the jaw. Kenny stumbled backwards and almost went out the open entrance to the maze. He looked as if he were going to lunge at Ethan, then changed his mind and ran down the far right path.
There was merit to the “incapacitate another player” scheme, but instead Ethan ran down the path next to the one Lisa had taken.
It went on for about ten feet, then split into a left or right turn. Ethan took the left one.
Was it safe to be running in a booby-trapped maze?
Possibly not. But surely they wouldn’t design it so that he could set off a tripwire that blew his legs off and ended the challenge. Unless the trick to winning was to just wait for the other two players to get killed.
For now, he’d assume that the key was to race through it as quickly as possible.
He took three more turns and continued to see only bare wooden walls.
The Claw Man spoke over a megaphone: “Lisa has just found her first key!”
Already?
Ethan picked up his pace...and then immediately stopped as he made a left turn and saw that the corridor had dozens of knife blades protruding from the walls and floor. This one was much more narrow than the other corridors—no way could two people get through side by side.
This went on for about ten feet. Past that, he thought he could see some multi-colored metallic objects hanging on the wall, which he assumed were the keys. Were the knives here to dissuade him from moving forward? He couldn’t tell if this hallway dead-ended or not. There might be a much safer path to the keys, or this might be it.
He decided to go forward. There was enough room to maneuver around the knives as long as he was extremely careful.
Ethan turned sideways and stepped down the corridor, moving cautiously but also trying not to fall behind in the race. Though there wasn’t much room to spare, as long as he didn’t lose his balance he should be able to avoid getting impaled.
He was a quarter of the way through already. See, this wasn’t so bad. He could do this.
The corridor seemed to be narrowing a bit.
Yes, the tips of the blades were scraping against him, though not breaking the skin.
Ethan kept moving.
Halfway through. Still going fine.
“Holy shit,” said Kenny.
Ethan glanced over. Kenny stood at the end of the hallway, where Ethan had been, looking at the knives without much enthusiasm.
Then, like Ethan, Kenny turned his body sideways and began to move through the bladed corridor.
Ethan kept going.
He winced as a blade tore the back of his shirt.
Another blade tore the front of his shirt.
And suddenly he was feeling claustrophobic.
Ethan kept his focus on the path ahead, even though it sounded like Kenny might be quickly gaining on him. Surely Kenny wouldn’t attack him while they were squeezing through the corridor of blades—if Ethan got disemboweled, Kenny would almost certainly be the one to go into the oil.
Now Ethan could see that this corridor did indeed have a dead end. He’d have to go back through the knives again.
The blades were breaking the skin. Not enough that he’d bleed to death or even be slowed down, but they hurt like hell. There really wasn’t room for him to contort himself to avoid getting cut. He pretty much had no choice but to just keep going and hope the blades didn’t cut too deep.
Kenny was breathing heavily, as if he was starting to panic.
Three-quarters of the way there. Still doing fine.
The blades were now cutting his chest, back, and legs. Still not badly.
At least it wasn’t too difficult to avoid the knives protruding from the floor.
Almost there.
One blade across his back cut deeper than the others and he yelped. He allowed himself three seconds to pause and regain his composure before moving again.
He made it. Ethan exhaled deeply, not having even realized he’d been holding his breath. A red, green, and blue key dangled from strings. Ethan took the blue one and shoved it into his pocket.
