Chapter 24
All day long, they shoveled sand in miserable silence. That night, as the dwindling group ate in the restaurant, Dan looked utterly defeated and broken. His face was battered, and his eyes were vacant.
The meal was silent, which was no surprise. Every time Quinn made eye contact with someone, he could see the elephant in the room that no one wanted to acknowledge.
Dan had killed Charlie. It was self-defense, sure. And Charlie had arguably died quicker than anyone else whose blood had stained the boardroom carpet.
But still. Dan had woken up beside Elena’s dead body, and then he’d killed Charlie defending himself.
Even if one of the people at this table somehow survived this ordeal, it didn’t seem possible that one person could ever live long enough to get all the therapy they would need to come back. And Dan was arguably even more deeply traumatized than anyone else.
Rich had clearly wanted to break them all and punish them for sins they been obliviously committing. He’d succeeded a long time ago. Now this whole thing just felt like a cat toying with the mouse whose neck was already in the trap. They were long past any kind of karmic justice; their captor just enjoyed listening to them squeak.
Quinn didn’t taste much of his food. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to get it past his dry mouth and tight throat into the lead ball that was his stomach. About the only thing that drove him to try to eat at all was knowing how awful shoveling sand or moving rocks would be if he didn’t. His bones ached from today and from just thinking about whatever hard labor Rich and his minions would dream up for them next. Maybe digging up trees, carrying them fifty feet away, and replanting them? Cleaning the airstrip on their hands and knees with their fingernails? Climbing up the outside of the hotel and scraping off bird shit with their teeth?
Nothing would surprise him at this point.
After the meal, Geri and Quinn slipped out to the patio to smoke and vape. A guard was stationed by the railing they’d jumped over in their escape attempt, and another watched them closely, his finger curled around his rifle’s trigger guard.
Nobody was running tonight. Sitting in the chairs at a table in the center of the patio, Geri and Quinn smoked in silence for long minutes.
Geri had just lit her second cigarette when she said, “I feel awful for Dan.”
Quinn nodded, blowing out a cloud of vapor. “That’s gotta be traumatic. Finding someone dead in your bed. Being accused of killing her.” He shuddered. “Accidentally killing someone else in self-defense. I… can’t even imagine what’s going through his head.”
Geri shook her head slowly. “I can’t either. And I… I kind of envy him and Elena.”
“How so?”
“Look at everything.” She gestured around them. “We’re isolated. We’re being tortured. We’re being threatened and systematically killed off.” She brought her cigarette to her lips again. “But they still found something good, you know? Even if they were just fucking. Or just sleeping in the same bed. It’s…” She waved the hand holding her cigarette. “Whatever they were doing, it had to be a bright spot in all this, you know?”
Quinn’s throat tightened unexpectedly. He’d never been hard up for sex before, and he could nearly always find someone to share his bed. That wasn’t what he was missing right now, though. A kind human touch. Closeness. Intimacy. Something other than violence and hell… “Yeah,” he croaked. “I envy them too.” He sucked in some more vapor and blew it out. “Now she’s gone and he’s still here. That has to be rough.”
“Seriously,” she muttered, and took another drag. “And he has to sleep alone in the same bed where she died.”
Quinn let his gaze drift up the tall triangular hotel. “You’d think they could find him another room.”
She laughed humorlessly. “If he asks for another room, Price will have him sleeping in the boardroom. Guaranteed.”
“Ugh.” Quinn shuddered. “Probably.”
They finished smoking in silence.
As he pocketed his vape pen, Quinn sighed. “We should get some sleep.”
“Yeah. We should.” Geri took one last drag off her cigarette. Then she put it out and dropped it in the ashtray.
In silence, they crossed the empty restaurant and the deserted lobby toward the elevator that would take them upstairs.
As they waited for the doors to open, Geri said, “I, um…” She hesitated. Then she turned to him. “Please don’t take this as something suggestive. Because I couldn’t, um, do anything if I wanted to.” She gestured toward the elevator doors. “But I really don’t want to spend tonight alone.”
The request almost knocked Quinn’s knees out from under him. He was in a similar boat—sex wasn’t going to happen—but now that she’d said the words… fuck. Despite the heat, the thought of sleeping next to another person was like a whole fleet of rescue boats cresting the horizon.
“Yeah,” he said hollowly. “I’d rather not spend it alone either.”
She glanced around the lobby. “Do you think they’ll try to stop us?”
He shrugged, the gesture taking more work than it should have. “What are they going to do? Kill us?”
“Fair point. I’ll take the risk.”
“Me too.”
They got in the elevator and rode in silence up to their floor. Before joining her in her suite, he swung into his own to collect a few necessities. He wasn’t sure why. Clinging to the comforts of normal, maybe? Whatever.
At this point, he wasn’t questioning anything.
In her room, he and Geri went through the motions of getting ready for bed without saying a word. He didn’t even look at her. He was just… wrung out. Numb. Exhausted.
They split one of the few remaining sleeping pills Art had given them, clinked their cups of water together in a somber toast, and swallowed the pills.
Duly drugged, they climbed into the massive bed. They kept the sheets and covers thrown off since the room was still an oven. As he settled onto the pillows, though, Quinn realized then that they hadn’t figured out what their respective definitions were of “not sleeping alone.” Especially in this awful heat, and with as sore and sunburned as they both were, keeping a foot or so between them made the most sense.
Before he could suggest that, though, Geri rolled toward him. Without thinking about it, he wrapped his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Everywhere their skin touched, his stung and perspired from the heat. The warmth of her body against his in this stuffy room made him uncomfortably hot. Bruises and scrapes lit up wherever their bodies made contact.
But he closed his eyes and held her firmly at his side. The physical discomfort was muted compared to the closeness of another person. Ever since they’d come to this island, they’d been subjected to more pain and fear than he could comprehend, and holding on to another human being soothed his battered soul in ways he couldn’t begin to articulate.
Even as the walls and ceiling lit up with horrific footage and the speakers filled the room with grim narration, Quinn kept his eyes shut and Geri against him.
On some level, he wished they both did have the capacity for sex. He didn’t even know if Geri would be into him, but he craved the intimacy. The ability to zero in on another person and physical pleasure while the rest of the world was locked outside.
Sleeping like this— trying to sleep like this—was the best he could offer and the most he could ask for. His mind and body were too beaten down for any kind of exertion, and he was too sore all over to enjoy anything either of them did.
So he held her. She held him.
This wouldn’t save them. More and more, he was beginning to believe nothing would. They were going to die out here, one by one, in psychotically creative ways.
But tonight, he and Geri held on to each other.
She relaxed against him and fell into a pattern of slow, steady breathing. Little by little, the sedative mingled with days’ worth of fatigue, and they steadily pulled him down into the depths of sleep.
If Quinn never again heard the words “let’s begin your next challenge,” it would be far, far too soon.
And yet, here they were, after another day of shoveling sand in the heat—sitting at the boardroom table, facing down another fucking challenge.
“Can’t this wait?” Geri asked. “Two people died yesterday. Outside the game.”
Rich turned to her. “Does your world stop to mourn your company’s collateral damage?”
Geri pressed her lips together.
“That’s what I thought. Moving on.” He picked up the remote off the table. “First, I have a video for you all to watch.”
Quinn gnawed the inside of his cheek. What he wouldn’t have given for the video in question to be a dry, poorly-produced film about why they should invest in RightPriceTek.
The video began with security footage of a hallway. Quinn was pretty sure it was one of the halls here in the hotel, and that was confirmed when Elena and Dan appeared. He had his arm around her waist, and she was leaning heavily on him, weaving a little and stumbling. With him holding her up, they stumbled into one of the suites.
The camera switched to inside the suite—holy fuck, there were cameras in their suites?—where Dan eased Elena onto the bed. She was conscious, but seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep or passing out. Drunk? Exhausted? Sick from the sun and hard labor? It was hard to tell. Could’ve been all three.
Then… she stilled. Her arm had been draped over her stomach and fell limply by her side. Eyes closed, her head lolled, and… she didn’t move. At all. Her chest was completely still.
Paul made a strangled sound. Geri put her hand to her lips.
They’d just watched Elena die. Holy fuck.
And as they continued watching in silent, paralyzed horror, Dan returned to the room. He didn’t seem the least bit alarmed by Elena’s condition. He touched her neck, then her wrist. Then he climbed onto the bed, undressed Elena’s motionless body, and…
Quinn had to look away. He made no apologies for wondering if Dan had killed her—he was, after all, the last one to see her alive—but he hadn’t expected Dan to fuck her corpse .
Dan slammed his fist down on the table. “This is fake! It’s a lie!” He flailed his hand toward the screen on which he was still taking his sweet time with Elena’s body. “I never touched her! I—we fucked, okay? Plenty of times? But not while—” His voice cracked, and his expression was a mix of horror and disgust. “I would never . Not while a woman is… Jesus Christ.” He stared up at Rich and croaked, “What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? ” Kyle demanded. “Why the hell did you—”
“I didn’t!” Dan shouted. “I slept with her, but I didn’t…” He flailed his hand at the TV screen, and his anger died away into something closer to despair. “I would never.”
“Then what the hell is happening there?” Kyle asked. “Jesus, man. What the fuck were you—”
“I didn’t,” Dan said, almost whispering now. “Everything she and I did was consensual. That—I didn’t do that .”
“He’s right,” Rich said. “I won’t say he never touched her—we all know that isn’t true—but he didn’t kill her, and he didn’t have sex with her while she was unconscious or deceased.”
Dan exhaled, leaning back in his chair. Everyone else glanced at him, at Rich, at the screen.
Quinn’s innards twisted and knotted. Rich was planning something, and Quinn was sure it would somehow be even worse than thinking one among them had killed Elena and defiled her corpse.
“If law enforcement were to investigate the death of Elena Simmons,” Rich explained, “there is no shortage of circumstantial evidence pointing very decisively toward Mr. Woolman. He was the last to see her alive and the one to find her dead. He had the means to kill her. I’m sure a medical examiner would find ample evidence that he’d slept with her.”
Dan squirmed in obvious discomfort, his face still contorted with disgust.
“There’s also the motive, of course,” Rich said. “After all, that airtight prenuptial agreement with Mrs. Woolman includes a clause very clearly stating that the agreement is null and void in the event of adultery.”
Dan’s breath rushed out in a long whoosh as he sank deeper into his chair.
“Now, a video like this”—Rich nodded toward the screen—“wouldn’t be admissible as evidence in a criminal court. Neither party knew they were being recorded. There’s no chain of custody for the video itself. And hidden cameras in hotel rooms are, at least in the United States, illegal.” He paused as if giving something serious thought. “There’s also the part where a skilled analyst would eventually be able to determine that the footage is clearly fake.”
Everyone at the table stilled.
Rich smiled that wicked smile that meant he was about to reveal something awful. “You of all people should all know just how persuasive a video can be. After all, you saw the videos of yourselves conducting interviews and enthusiastically talking about appearing on my show.” He motioned toward the screen. “And yet, when presented with footage of someone committing the unthinkable, you turn on him without a second thought.”
The collective “oh fuck” was palpable in the air. Or maybe that was just Quinn’s heart sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. Kyle offered a sheepish look to Dan, but Dan seemed to be fixated on Rich.
“Thanks to advances in AI technology,” Rich said, grinning as he gestured at Paul, “it’s easier than ever to create media representing anything and everything we can imagine.”
Paul made a choked sound and lost even more color than Dan had.
“And with that incredible media,” Rich went on, “the public can be convinced to believe anything we want them to. Including…” He nodded toward the screen.
Quinn’s blood turned cold, a feeling that had become all too familiar since he’d arrived on this island.
“Even if law enforcement can debunk them and the judicial system won’t accept them,” Rich said with a grin, “the public won’t forget them. Once the cat is out of the bag, it becomes a never-ending uphill battle to convince people the cat doesn’t exist. So.” He picked up the remote again. “Let me show you some of the things my people have created that are one click of a button away from being released to the public.”
Jesus fuck. Each video was harder to watch than the last. The first showed Geri in a meeting with the leaders of two enemies of the United States. It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they were clearly negotiating. In the end, both sides signed some documents. Then they shook hands, everyone smiling broadly. After that, there were several clips of missiles being delivered to their respective militaries with Cole Industries plain to see on each weapon.
Paul, the man behind the AI tech curtain himself, was shown hanging out with a couple of other men, drinking and smoking. “These DoD idiots—they’re so in love with the idea of fancy tech, they want it on every government machine that’ll support it. I give it six months before we have every byte of data from every machine from the Pentagon on down.”
One of the other guys chuckled as he blew out some smoke. “We got buyers for that data yet?”
“Lined up around the block,” Paul said with a shit-eating grin.
The men on the screen laughed and high-fived as if they’d just figured out how to hack their university’s grading system. Quinn had to remind himself this was a fake video, and no, Paul and his boys hadn’t made a deal that would allow them to siphon military secrets into their own systems before auctioning them to the highest bidder.
Groaning, the real Paul put his face into his hands and exhaled.
“Your company does great work,” Rich taunted. “Very convincing.”
Paul just made a miserable sound.
The clips continued, and when Quinn saw himself on the screen, ice water trickled through his veins. He was at a high society party, chatting up a girl who was far, far too young. She might’ve been able to pass for fifteen, maybe sixteen, but Quinn knew her. She was the granddaughter of one of his father’s colleagues, and she was barely fourteen.
The way he was talking to her and looking at her in the video… How close he was standing… How he kept touching her even as she was obviously getting nervous…
Quinn was genuinely surprised he hadn’t thrown up. Maybe he just couldn’t at this point.
Not even when the video version of himself put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her away from the party.
Not when a grainy security camera watched them walking to and getting into his car.
Not when another security camera tracked them going into her parents’ living room, onto her couch, and—
This time, Quinn did puke. He managed to turn away and direct it at the wall instead of onto Kyle’s lap, but barely.
Thank God, by the time he looked up, the screen had changed. Now it was in the middle of a video showing both Dan and Kyle having a conversation with a group of environmental researchers.
Dan was in the middle of saying, “We’ll provide enough funding for all three of your universities and your independent research.” He held up a binder. “All we ask in return is that you don’t publish this.”
“We have a duty to publish it,” one of the researchers insisted. “The situation is dire—if carbon emissions aren’t reduced significantly in the next five years, we’ll—”
“You’ll destroy tens of thousands of jobs,” Kyle broke in. “Do you understand the impact this will have on the economy?”
“To put it bluntly,” the second researcher said, “the economy won’t matter and neither will jobs if climate change gets any worse.”
The video played for a few more minutes, showing the increasingly heated argument. Then Rich paused it.
“This footage is, of course, fake.” He clicked the remote. “But this news story is not.”
The screen changed to an article with the headline, Investigators Suspect Foul Play in Deaths of Climate Scientists .
Below that were photos of the three researchers who’d been in the video.
“Law enforcement doesn’t have any leads at this time,” Rich said. “But should footage like this make it out into the public, well—I can only imagine the damage it would do to stock prices.”
Both Kyle and Dan looked like they were close to heaving just like Quinn had.
“Fortunately,” Rich continued, “none of these need to ever see the light of day.”
He clicked the remote emphatically, and the screen went black.
Everyone leaned in, staring at him and holding their breath.
Rich seemed to be enjoying their anxiety tremendously . “Quite simply,” he said with his usual smile, “how much is it worth to you to keep these videos out of the public eye?”
Quinn gulped. He thought some of the others did too.
Right then, the boardroom door opened, startling every one of them out of their seats.
It was just Tyson, though, carrying a small stack of tablets. As the rattled players sat back down, he walked around the table, distributing tablets to each person.
“Thank you, Tyson,” Rich said when the man was finished. Tyson nodded sharply and left without a word. To the people at the table, Rich said, “You’ll find the app when you turn on the tablets, and your answer will be a dollar figure.”
Dan cleared his throat. “Is this hypothetical? Or are we actually paying it to keep the videos in the dark?”
Rich smiled. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you? But I would suggest approaching the challenge as if you’ll actually need to pony up the money.” He gestured with the remote at the screen. “After all, the videos actually exist.”
Everyone exchanged terrified looks.
Rich kept smiling. “That will be all. I’ll see you in the morning.”