The Odds, page 17
“It wasn’t.”
“Either way, you were totally on board until it came back to bite you in the ass.”
“But turquoise is blue.”
“No. Turquoise is turquoise. I’ll put that on a bumper sticker for you.” The Claw Man extended an open hand to Kenny. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Kenny, not looking happy, dropped three keys into The Claw Man’s palm.
“Ooooh, same problem here,” said The Claw Man, picking up one of them and holding it up for everybody to see. “This isn’t green. This is olive.”
A tall, thin woman with gray hair shook her head. “No, no, no.” Ethan wondered if she served the same role for Kenny as Rick did for him. “Olive is green. That’s why they call them green olives.”
“Sorry, Christine, you were right there in the meeting with Rick and the rest of us. You thought it was a simply delightful idea. You can’t start whining about it now.”
“I didn’t get to see the keys,” said Christine. “Neither did Rick. If you’d shown me the olive-colored key and said that it wouldn’t count as a green key, I would’ve argued the point I’m making now. It’s clearly a green key. And it’s clearly a blue key. When we discussed this in the design stage, we assumed that the keys would be different enough from the main color that you could definitively say ‘This is not green’ or ‘This is not blue.’ That’s not the case here. If you went up to people on the street and asked them what color these keys were, they’d say that they were blue and green, not turquoise and olive.”
“What about Lisa?” asked The Claw Man. “You don’t see her with a pink or a mauve key.”
“That’s because pink and mauve are considered individual colors,” said Christine. Ethan liked her more than he liked Rick. “The keys that were placed in the maze don’t follow the parameters of what we discussed in the meeting. This isn’t our fault.”
“Damn,” said The Claw Man. “Kenny’s got himself a top-notch attorney here. That said, your argument would not hold up in a court of law. When we discussed ways to make the maze more difficult, we came up with the idea of a wall of a thousand different keys that they had to search through. Somebody, I forget exactly who it was, proposed the idea that some of the keys would be close to the color that the players were supposed to find, as a way to trick them. Apparently it worked. Twice. The thing is, for a key to be almost the right color but not quite, there has to be some room for debate. If the key is far enough from green that everybody agrees that it’s not a legitimately green key, then it wouldn’t fool a player into taking it, and the whole idea would be pointless. Baked right there into the concept is the idea that there’d be a protest. So I reject your objections.”
“Then what happens next?” asked Rick.
“They get their asses back into the maze to get the right key.”
“No,” said Christine. “Kenny was badly hurt. Look at how swollen his eye is. He wouldn’t have put himself in the position to get injured that badly if he’d known the key was wrong. You announced through the megaphone that he’d found the key.”
“I said that he found a key,” said The Claw Man. “I didn’t say he found the right key. My words were chosen very carefully.”
“They were misleading.”
“I think they should have to continue the race,” said Rick.
“Well, of course you do,” said The Claw Man, grinning. To Christine, he said, “We had a little incident with Rick here that forced us to change the stakes a bit. If Ethan goes into the oil, Rick goes in right after him. So, yeah, he really wants Ethan to win.”
“Oh,” said Christine.
“Let’s send them back into the maze,” said Rick. “It’s the only fair way to do this.”
“You can say that because your player isn’t as badly injured,” said Christine.
“What are you talking about? He’s all slashed up.”
“So is Kenny. And Kenny has an eye injury. He has no chance of winning if they go back into the maze.”
“That’s not my problem,” said Rick.
“How about we call it a tie?” asked Christine. “Neither of them die, but neither of them get a point.”
Rick nodded. “I’m fine with that.”
“What about Lisa?” The Claw Man asked. “She ran through the maze thinking it was a matter of life or death. How is it fair to her if it turns out there was no real danger?”
“I’m totally okay with it being a tie between them,” said Lisa.
The Claw Man looked around at everybody. “Is there anybody who objects to the idea of making it a tie between Ethan and Kenny?”
Nobody objected.
“Done!” he said. “It’s officially a tie for second place.”
Ethan almost collapsed with relief. He’d been too terrified to even breathe. Kenny looked more angry than relieved.
“Which means,” The Claw Man continued, “that we have to do the tiebreaker.”
“Wait, what?” Rick asked.
“Don’t plead ignorance. We had a tiebreaker. We’re going to flip a coin and see who comes in second place and who comes in third.” He took a silver dollar out of his pocket.
Christine sighed. “I’m okay with the tiebreaker.”
“I’m not!” said Rick. “This isn’t what we agreed on!”
“Your objection has been noted,” said The Claw Man. “Now I’d advise you to quit bellyaching and start trying to visualize winning the coin toss. Heads, Ethan wins. Tails, Kenny wins.”
Ethan had no idea what to do. Should he continue to protest? Should he claim that he didn’t trust the coin toss to be impartial, and that they needed to replace it with another method, like they had with the wheel in Rick’s Vegas office? Should he just shut the hell up and hope that the 50/50 odds worked out in his favor?
He didn’t think he could protest his way out of this.
The Claw Man flipped the coin into the air. He caught it, then slapped it down on his wrist.
“Before I reveal, I just want to say what an honor it’s been to have both of you in this game,” he said. “I mean that sincerely. We’ve had a couple of duds, and a couple of players we had to eliminate prematurely—you were there for one of those, right Ethan?—and so I appreciate what you’ve both given to the game. It will give me no pleasure to watch one of you die an agonizing death.”
He lifted his hand just enough to peek underneath.
“The coin has made its decision,” he said. “And before I announce it, I just want to give credit where it’s due to the coin designers throughout history who’ve made it possible to break ties in this manner. Let’s give it up for the coin designers, ladies and gentlemen!”
Everybody stood there, unsure whether he genuinely intended for them to applaud.
“I’m not kidding,” said The Claw Man. “A round of applause for the coin designers of the world. Let’s do this!”
Everybody around Ethan applauded, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in the levity. He still hadn’t figured out what he’d do if the coin toss didn’t work out in his favor. He might as well fight as hard as he possibly could, since there wasn’t much they could do to him that was worse than being boiled alive.
“I have bad news for one of you,” The Claw Man said. He looked at Kenny. “Kenny, I hate to break this to you...but you have to play the next round.”
He removed his hand, showing that the coin had landed on tails.
Two of the men, presumably anticipating that Ethan would try to make a run for it, grabbed him before he could move.
“If he struggles too much, pull his arm back until it snaps,” said The Claw Man. “He’ll stop.”
Everybody followed as the men dragged Ethan over to the shed.
22
Rick had absolutely no idea what to do.
If he just let them dunk Ethan in the barrel of boiling oil, he’d be next. But what the hell could he do? Try to gently dissuade them from doing this? Turn into an action movie hero and perform a daring rescue, even though he was far outnumbered and everybody else was armed? What were the odds of success? A million to fucking one?
He followed the group to the shed.
Nobody was actually pointing a gun at him, but The Claw Man gave him a look that made it clear that he knew Rick might try something. And he might. A bullet to the skull would be better than the fate planned for him.
He watched helplessly as they snapped the handcuffs on Ethan.
“He’s your player,” said The Claw Man. “You do the honors.”
Rick walked over and turned the crank. He tried to block out the sounds of Ethan’s protests as the chain went taut and lifted him into the air. He turned another crank, which positioned Ethan directly above the barrel.
“Lisa, you can go inside,” said The Claw Man. “We’re still monitoring you, so don’t try anything stupid. But as the first place finisher, you don’t have to watch.”
Lisa nodded and quickly left.
“Kenny, you’re not so lucky. But you’re luckier than Ethan. Ethan, you’re leaving behind a wife and two sons, but we’re not complete monsters.” He took out a cell phone. “You get to record a goodbye video. Sixty seconds to say whatever you want to your family. I’ll zoom in close so they don’t see exactly what’s going to happen to you.”
The goodbye video. Rick had forgotten about that. It seemed really entertaining while they were discussing the various ways the game would play out. It was simultaneously kind-hearted, because it would give the family some closure, and mean-spirited, because it dragged out the victim’s awareness of his nightmarish end. In the meeting room, eating doughnuts and sipping expensive coffee, it had seemed like it would be amusing.
Rick envisioned a scenario where he mightily kicked over the barrel of oil, surprising the onlookers so much that they didn’t get out of the way in time. As the boiling oil rushed over their feet, they screamed out in pain and fell forward, sizzling their hands as well. The ones who remained standing would charge forward, but Ethan would swing forward and kick them, knocking them unconscious. Over in fifteen seconds.
Of course, it would take several people to push over that barrel, and they’d get severely burned doing it. This derring-do escape was entirely in Rick’s imagination.
“Fuck you,” Ethan told The Claw Man.
“That’s not a very heartwarming message to your family.”
“I’m not playing your game anymore.”
“This is your chance to say goodbye.”
“They know I love them. This video won’t bring them any kind of peace. I’m not going to let you twist the knife any more. Fuck you.”
The Claw Man didn’t lower his phone. “You still get the full sixty seconds. Is that really how you want to use it?”
It really wasn’t, but Ethan wasn’t going to offer up some sappy video message for The Claw Man and the other sadists to laugh at. If they did send the video to Jenny—which he doubted—they’d probably add a wacky filter to it to make him look like a cartoon dog or something. If he had to die, it was going to be a defiant death.
Also, he knew that if he tried to deliver a sincere message to Jenny, Patrick, and Tim, he’d become a blubbering mess of sorrow and terror. Being an asshole right now was the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down.
“You sure that’s how you want to go out?” The Claw Man asked. “I mean, you’re an adult, it’s your choice. I personally wouldn’t want to bid farewell to my family that way, but you do you.”
“Fuck you,” Ethan told him.
The Claw Man lowered his phone. “All right, then. Rick, turn that crank.”
Rick, looking physically ill, began to turn the crank. Ethan lifted his legs, trying to keep his feet out of the boiling oil.
No.
Screw this.
If Ethan could be defiant, then so could Rick. It was too late to save his player, but that didn’t mean Rick had to be the one to kill him. He was done playing along.
Rick was under no impression that this somehow made him noble. His plan to make a break for it was cowardly, and he probably wouldn’t even make it out of the shed, but at least he was taking charge of his own fate.
He stopped turning the crank and ran.
The Claw Man shot him in the knee.
Rick cried out in pain and fell to the ground. He didn’t even have to look at the wound to know that he would not be getting back up.
“Why would you go and do that?” The Claw Man asked. “Now it’s messy.”
“He could do this to you,” said Rick to the others, trying to speak instead of simply screaming. “There’s no loyalty! I’m an employee just like the rest of you, and look what he’s going to do to me! You could be next!”
“You broke the rules,” said The Claw Man.
“He had no choice!” Ethan shouted. “What’s going to happen to him could happen to any of you! That’s the kind of people you work for!”
The Claw Man chuckled. “Everybody else knows not to break the rules.”
“Like he said, I had no choice,” said Rick. He could not believe how much it hurt to get shot in the knee. Maybe the boiling oil would’ve been better. “Things got out of control. I did what I had to do, and now I’m going to die for it.”
The Claw Man chuckled again, though it was a bit forced, like he was trying to convey amusement and disdain that didn’t quite exist. He pointed the gun at Rick’s head.
Ethan watched as The Claw Man walked right up to Rick. He pressed the barrel of his gun right between Rick’s eyes.
“You’re babbling,” said The Claw Man. “Nobody’s interested in your nonsense. It’s time for you to shut the fuck up.”
He pulled the trigger.
Rick’s dead body flopped over.
Everybody was silent.
The handcuffs were digging into Ethan’s wrists and it was becoming more difficult to keep his knees bent and his feet out of the oil.
Rick lay on his side, blood seeping into the ground.
“What did he do?” Christine asked.
“You saw him,” said The Claw Man. “He made a run for it.”
“I mean, what did he do before that?”
“He fed inside information to his player. Tried to give him an unfair advantage. And, oh, yeah, he murdered Gavin and Butch when he thought they might tattle on him for violating the ‘never bluff’ rule. Instead of ending the game for Ethan here, we decided to make Rick’s penalty the same as his. He got off pretty easy.”
A trickle of blood ran down Ethan’s arm. He wasn’t sure if it came from his wrists, or one of the cuts that was already there. The pain was excruciating.
“He had a daughter,” said Christine.
“I’m sorry, is there a problem, Christine?” The Claw Man asked.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Let’s not forget that we’re still playing a game here. We all knew how this was going to work out in the end.”
“For the players. Not the staff.”
Ethan couldn’t see The Claw Man’s face, but from his body language Ethan assumed that his eyes narrowed. He took a step toward Christine. “Did you just give a spoiler?”
“No. That didn’t spoil anything. What are you talking about?”
“My mistake. I don’t like the grim mood that’s happening here. We’re supposed to be having fun. I guess Rick won’t be turning any more cranks, but I need somebody to get in there and lower Ethan to his death. Kenny, do you want to do the honors?”
Kenny shook his head. “No.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t want to do it.”
“All right. Nobody’s going to make you. Any other volunteers? Should we send somebody inside to see if Lisa wants to do it?”
Ethan noticed that Christine was reaching behind her back. Was she going for a gun?
Holy shit! Yes! She took out a gun and pointed it at The Claw Man.
A gunshot rang out and part of Christine’s scalp came off.
As Christine dropped, everybody except The Claw Man started looking around to see where the shot had come from.
The man whose name Ethan didn’t know, but who he assumed was Lisa’s equivalent of Rick or Christine, hurried into the shed as he took out a gun of his own. He spun around and fired at The Claw Man. A spray of blood shot from The Claw Man’s side and he fell to his knees.
Ethan didn’t know how much longer he could keep his legs out of the boiling oil.
Kenny put his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot!”
The Claw Man took out his own gun as the man who’d shot at him moved out of Ethan’s line of sight. Ethan thought he was trying to hide behind the barrel.
Both of them fired off a few shots.
At least one of The Claw Man’s shots struck the barrel. Oil started to pour out, but it was a thin trickle. Ethan’s legs would give out long before enough drained from the barrel to make a difference.
Ethan could hear movement behind him, and no grunts of pain, so as far as he knew the other man was still alive and well.
Kenny remained paralyzed, face contorted with fear as if he expected to get shot in the head at any moment.
The man behind Ethan squeezed off another shot. Got The Claw Man in the other side. The Claw Man placed each of his hands over a wound, not dropping the gun as he did so. He looked dizzy and disoriented.
Ethan couldn’t hold up his legs anymore. They swung down and the soles of his shoes dipped into the oil. He immediately bent them at the knees again. He was in absolute agony, and it felt like his hands might simply tear off at the wrists and send him plunging into the oil, but there was a chance that if this gunfight worked out in his favor, somebody would set him free.
The man came out of his hiding spot. Instead of shooting The Claw Man again, he ran over and kicked him in the chest, knocking him onto his back. He grabbed The Claw Man’s gun then hurried to edge of the shed and opened fire.
