The Odds, page 18
Somebody screamed. It sounded like they might be on the roof.
Their scream got closer.
Ethan heard a thump, which he was pretty sure was a sniper falling off the roof.
Kenny lowered his hands. He began to walk toward Ethan.
“What are you doing?” asked the man.
“Getting him down.”
“Nah. Let him die. He’s no good to me. And neither are you.”
The man shot Kenny in the face.
Four dead bodies, plus The Claw Man. Jesus Christ.
The man walked out of the shed. Then he immediately stopped. “Aw, shit,” he muttered.
Yet another gunshot. Blood spurted from the man’s chest and he fell to the ground.
He lay there, writhing, gasping for breath. Lisa, holding the gun she’d won for completing the maze in first place, walked over to him. She pointed the gun at him, then shook her head. “I’d be stupid if I wasted a bullet,” she informed him.
“Please get me down!” said Ethan.
Lisa hurried over to him. She turned the crank until Ethan was no longer positioned over the barrel, then turned the other crank to lower him. As his feet touched the ground, it was clear that his legs weren’t going to be able to come close to supporting his weight, so he just let her lower him until he was sitting.
She removed his handcuffs. Ethan’s arms flopped to his sides. Yes, the blood had come from them digging into his wrists, so right now he was thankful that there was no feeling in them.
“Good thing the cuffs weren’t locked,” she said. “I’d have had to shoot your hands off.”
Ethan wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. He didn’t care.
“Is everybody dead?” he asked.
“The drivers are still inside. Everybody else is dead or dying, as far as I know. Look, I need to get going. My fiancé could be in serious danger, and I can’t drag you around, so good luck to you.”
She hurried off.
Ethan inspected his wrists more closely. They were in bad shape but he didn’t need to rush off to the emergency room. If he wrapped them up he’d be fine for a while.
For now, all he could do is sit here helplessly until the feeling came back into his limbs.
The pins and needles feeling started soon. He wondered why it was called “pins and needles,” when either pins or needles alone would describe the sensation. Then he wondered why he was thinking about something so trivial. Was he losing more blood than he thought? He needed to stay laser-focused on the problem at hand.
Now the pins and needles were absolute agony, closer to the sensation of a homicidal maniac stabbing his arms and legs with a knife over and over and over. The pain was unreal. At least it would be over soon, as long as his ordeal hadn’t caused permanent damage.
The torture began to relent.
Finally he was able to crawl. He couldn’t tell if the man Lisa had shot was still alive—he wasn’t moving—but The Claw Man was still alive and conscious, though he wouldn’t be putting up much of a fight.
Ethan went over to Rick’s body, reached into his pocket, and took out his cell phone. He tapped at the screen. The phone was locked with face ID, but hopefully his face wasn’t mangled enough to stop it from working. Ethan held the phone up to his dead face, and the phone unlocked.
He called Jenny.
She answered immediately. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“I know we’ve already been through this, but get out of the house. Get the kids in the car and just drive. Don’t call the police unless I tell you to. Just go.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“What’s happening?”
Ethan thought about his answer for a moment. “I think I’m about to hijack a plane.”
23
Ethan kind of wished he hadn’t shared that information with Jenny. It would generate a lot of very reasonable questions that he didn’t have time to answer right now.
“I’ll get the kids out of the house,” said Jenny, apparently deciding that ignorance was bliss for now.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Ethan hung up. He either needed to cut off Rick’s head and bring it along, or disable the face ID on the phone, so he went with the latter.
He managed to stand up. He picked up The Claw Man’s and Christine’s guns. He assumed the van drivers had heard all of the shots, but he didn’t know if they were the kind of guys to flee, call for help, or prepare an ambush. He wished he could worry about them now, but he had a more pressing concern.
He crouched down next to The Claw Man, then pushed the barrel of one of the guns against his chin. “Take out your phone,” Ethan told him.
“You’re a dead man.”
“I said, take out your phone.”
“The boiling oil is nothing compared to what’s going to happen to you.”
“I need you alive,” said Ethan. “So if you don’t want me to shoot you in the ankle, take out your phone.”
The Claw Man shoved his bloody hand into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.
“Call your partners. Tell them to end the game.”
“They won’t.”
“Then that will be really bad for you. I’d try to make a good case for it. Tell them to put everything on hold—and I mean everything, especially going after family members—and that you’ll be there to discuss it in person.”
The Claw Man tapped at his screen. “It’s not working,” he said.
“Wipe the blood off your fingers.”
The Claw Man wiped his fingers off on his pants, then tapped at the screen again.
“Put it on speaker,” Ethan told him.
“What the hell is going on?” asked a man on the other end.
“We’ve got a little bit of a situation here. I’m going to need you to put the game on pause. Everything, including penalties.”
“How did you let this happen?”
“Are you going to interrogate me or are you going to pause the fucking game?”
“We’ll pause the game. But we told you to—”
“Save the lecture, okay? We’ll talk about this when I get there. Goodbye.” The Claw Man hung up. “Now what?”
“Now I’m going to see if the drivers are still here. Try not to bleed out before I get back.”
Ethan cautiously walked out of the shed. He didn’t see anybody on the roof, so he hurried over to the house then went inside. The van driver was still seated on the living room couch, watching a courtroom show. Another man who looked about ninety sat next to him.
“Uh, hi,” said Ethan.
The driver looked over at him. “Hi.”
“You didn’t hear all the gunfire?”
“Our job is to wait for instructions, not go out and get ourselves shot.”
“Well, good. The Claw Man has been seriously injured. I’m going to need you to help get him in the van, then take us to his private jet.”
“Are you asking nicely, or should I assume that you’re going to point that gun at me if I say no?”
“For now, let’s say that I’m asking nicely.”
The driver nodded and stood up. He handed the remote control to the other driver.
They walked out of the house. The driver seemed unimpressed by the sight of all of the dead bodies. He looked down at The Claw Man. “Those are some nasty wounds,” he said. “We probably shouldn’t move him.”
“We’re going to move him,” said Ethan.
“Just help him,” said The Claw Man. “It’s fine.”
“It’s gonna hurt.”
“I know it’s gonna fucking hurt! It already hurts!”
“Do you want heads or tails?” the driver asked Ethan.
“Tails.”
Ethan picked up The Claw Man by the feet, which was unbelievably painful on his injured wrists, and the driver lifted him under his shoulders. The Claw Man cried out in pain, though the amount of sympathy this elicited from Ethan was minimal. They carried him around the house and over to the van.
“I’ll put the seats down so he can lie on the floor,” said the driver. “Should we get a blanket or some garbage bags or something so he doesn’t bleed all over the upholstery?”
“Fuck the upholstery!” said The Claw Man. “Let’s just go!”
They were as careful as possible when getting him into the back of the van. Ethan didn’t care about his comfort, but if The Claw Man got jostled and some intestines or a kidney became visible, he’d be less useful as a hostage.
As the driver sped them to a small airport, The Claw Man called to let them know he was on his way. They were flying back to Las Vegas.
They were somehow able to drive right up to the plane. The ability to bypass all lines was a major incentive for Ethan to become incredibly rich.
The Claw Man was getting blood all over his seat.
There was no beverage service on this flight, because Ethan had ordered the crew to stay in the cockpit and not come out for any reason. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually shoot them or not. If he missed, he could depressurize the cabin and kill everybody—or so he assumed, since he didn’t know exactly how the science on that worked. He was relatively certain that shooting a gun midflight was bad.
“You ruined everything,” The Claw Man told him.
“My bad.”
“We were almost at the final challenge. All of the players in one building. Fight to the death. Winner takes all. A five million dollar prize to the winner. It would’ve been spectacular.”
“I’m sure everybody involved is very disappointed.”
“We had six floors of content. Traps everywhere. Getting enough scorpions for the maze was a pain in the ass, but that’s nothing compared to the surprises in the final building. We had a fucking lion. Do you know how much work and expense we put into that building? If I showed you some of the design documents, you’d want to jump right back into the game.”
“You should calm down,” said Ethan. “You’re getting overly agitated and when you twist around like that it makes you bleed more.”
“I was even rooting for you,” said The Claw Man. “I thought to myself, that guy can pull this off. You could’ve been five million dollars richer. Now it’s no prizes for anyone. All the risks everybody took, all the lies they had to tell to their significant others, all the players who died during the game...all for nothing. Thanks a fucking lot, Ethan.”
“I’m truly not sure why you think I’m going to feel guilty about this.”
“Because you ruined the game!”
“You are one out of touch guy.”
“It’s not just about you. You should think about others.”
“So what were the points all about?” Ethan asked.
“Before the final battle started, the players could use their points in exchange for weapons and advantages. Let’s say you’ve got three points. Do you use them all for a machine gun, or do you spend a point on a six-shooter, a point on a bulletproof vest, and a point on a peek at a map that shows you the location of the hidden passages? Each player would have to make their own decisions.”
“Sorry I’m missing out.”
“There’s no rule saying players can’t combine their points. And yet it’s a zero sum game with only one winner. Is it best to form alliances and use teamwork to make it closer to the end? Three players working together could wipe out the rest of the competition, and then worry about turning on each other when the time came. But maybe it’s better to play it solo, so you’re a smaller target. Stay under the radar. Lots of factors to consider if you’re going to win this thing. It tests your mental abilities as well as physical. People working behind the scenes put their soul into this experience that you’re trying to shut down.”
“Well, I’ve never been on a private jet before, and you’re ruining the experience.”
“Rick should never have chosen you.”
“I agree.”
A limousine was waiting for them when they landed at a small airport near Las Vegas. There were sheets on the seats. Ethan had never been in a limo, either, but he wasn’t inclined to make use of the minibar or the ability to open up the roof and put his head outside.
After a short drive, the limo pulled into a parking garage.
“Call and let them know we’re here,” said Ethan.
“They know we’re here.”
“Tell them I’ll shoot you if they try anything.”
“They know that too.”
“Make sure they know how serious I am.”
“You get that they’re listening right now, right?”
“And I also want you to know how serious I am. I will kill you without hesitation.”
“Noted,” said The Claw Man. “Now can we please get the fuck out of the limo so I can get some proper medical attention?”
The parking garage had a private entrance to the meeting spot, sparing Ethan and the limo driver the need to carry a blood-covered man down the street. The door buzzed as they approached—apparently they were indeed being watched—and they awkwardly opened it and brought The Claw Man inside.
Mindy, the receptionist from the office where Ethan had gotten into this shitstorm, stood up from behind her desk as they entered. “Let me get the other door for you,” she said. “They’re right in there.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan.
As she went over to the door, he told the driver to set The Claw Man down. Ethan then pulled The Claw Man to his feet, stood behind him, and held the gun against the side of his head in the traditional hostage manner.
Mindy opened the door. Ethan and The Claw Man went inside.
The room was lined with monitors. Dozens upon dozens of them. Lots of views of various homes from the outside, and shots of rooms from the inside. He recognized his own bedroom. They’d had an excellent view of him pretending to have sex with Jenny.
The center of the room was occupied by a long desk, the kind you’d find in an executive boardroom. There were about twenty chairs, all of them unoccupied except the two at the far end. Two middle-aged men sat there. They looked unhappy.
Mindy shut the door behind them.
Ethan didn’t want The Claw Man to lose consciousness and fall, so he plopped him down in the closest chair, keeping the gun to his head.
“Don’t make me kill him,” Ethan said.
“We won’t,” said one of the men. “We understand that you’re very perturbed right now, and we hope we can work this out.”
“I hope so, too.”
“I am The Duke of Amusement. My partner here is Enigmaticus. And you’ve obviously met The Claw Man. So what can we do for you, Ethan?”
“I want you to stop the game. I want you to leave me and my family alone.”
The Duke nodded. “And if we don’t indulge your request, you will shoot The Claw Man in the head, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, this is a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand, we certainly don’t want you to kill him. He’s not just a business partner, he’s a friend. On the other hand, we put a lot of work into this game, and we don’t want some player barging in here and telling us we have to end it all.”
“This isn’t a bluff,” said Ethan.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not. You wouldn’t force your way onto a private jet and fly out here just to bluff. You could be speeding away with your family right now. They’re making good time. Tim got to sit in the front seat, even though he’s younger.”
Ethan almost wanted to squeeze the trigger right now. Kill The Claw Man then try to take out the other two before they were able to retaliate. He resisted the urge.
“Here’s the deal,” said Enigmaticus. “We don’t have the ability to stop you from killing The Claw Man if you really want to. From there, you’ll try to shoot at us, but we wouldn’t have let you into our office if we didn’t think we could take you out before that happened. So you’re dead, our partner is dead, and it’s just an unpleasant situation for everybody. No real winners in this scenario, and what fun is a game without a winner, right?”
“I guess,” said Ethan. If he took a shot at one of them before killing The Claw Man, he might have the element of surprise on his side, but he had to admit that there wasn’t really a plausible outcome where he was the only one alive. He needed them to decide that saving The Claw Man’s life was worth ending the game.
“The game is basically ruined at this point,” said Enigmaticus. “We had this whole thing planned where—”
“He told me about it on the plane,” said Ethan.
“I know, I know. We just put a lot of work into it. There was this one trap where...well, it doesn’t matter. Maybe in Game Two,” he said, wistfully.
“I really, truly, wholeheartedly do not care that you’re missing out on watching all of us kill each other,” said Ethan.
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
“So let us be perfectly clear,” said The Duke. “We are not willing to shut down the game just because you’re threatening to kill our friend. I’m sure he agrees with our decision. But we’d also like to avoid a bloodbath. Therefore, we’re going to let you participate in a final round. All or nothing. The odds are 50/50. Everything on one spin of the wheel.”
“What do I win?”
“You win an end to the game. All challenges will immediately cease. The remaining players will still be under a gag order with no expiration date, but they’ll each receive one hundred thousand dollars for their trouble. The families of the deceased players will receive one hundred thousand dollars as well. You, as the player taking the risk, will receive one million dollars, along with the guaranteed safety of Jenny, Patrick, and Tim.”
“And if I lose?”
“We’ll kill you, your family, and all of the remaining players.”
“It won’t be as bad as being lowered into boiling oil,” said Enigmaticus. “We’ll just shoot you. Quick and easy. Your family won’t suffer, either. Headshots, if possible. Nothing where they linger.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
