Chapter 5 Ana
Ana
It was almost midnight.
Ana and Raya were walking slowly towards the pool, playing Spot the Dot.
Ever since she’d found the microphone in her bathroom, Ana kept noticing more and more small black dots everywhere—in corners, under lampshades, behind picture frames, in plant pots.
The dots in the bathrooms were microphones, but more worryingly, the rest of them looked like cameras. The whole motel was wired.
Raya was completely unconcerned.
“How can someone be spying on us if there’s no one else here?
” She was mugging around in front of the newest discovery—a tiny black dot above the pool gate.
“Think about it, all this spy shit is probably ancient and hasn’t worked in decades.
I reckon the motel was a skank brothel in a past life.
That would explain the cameras, not to mention the pink roses and ick everywhere. ”
Ana laughed and pushed the pool gate open.
Raya had a point. Creepy spyware in a remote motel didn’t seem like a stretch; some past, disgruntled employee making a little side cash at the expense of the guests.
This whole place was abandoned, the cameras along with everything else.
There was no reason to worry about it. It probably had absolutely nothing to do with them. Probably.
Everyone else was already at the empty pool.
Ellis was sitting sullenly on his diving-board throne.
Jade was lounging by the fire, Jax next to her, one hand on the small of her back, one hand on his phone.
Caden was lurking in the shadows, watching everyone silently.
Alex had his back against the tiled wall and was playing his guitar, his profile illuminated softly by the firelight.
His face was still, almost restful—he was in the zone.
Ana tried to look anywhere else, but her eyes kept coming back to him, seeking him out. Raya must have noticed.
“Gotta say it. Your Alex has had a major glow-up,” she said, just a little too loudly. “I was checking him out on the bus. I’m totally digging his whole if-Timothée-Chalamet-was-Mexican-and-played-a-guitar vibe.”
“He’s not my Alex,” Ana protested, willing Raya to shut up. She pointedly headed to the shallow end, and they sat down on the pool edge, which was as far from the others as they could get in the undersized pool. “If anything, he’s one of them now.” Ana nodded towards the beautiful crowd.
“Come on, Ana. You know Alex couldn’t give a shit about being popular.
He’s just too nice to say no to anyone, and the cool kids have decided he’s talented enough to make them look good.
” She nudged Ana with her shoulder. “If you went up to him now and said ‘hi’, he’d follow you around for the rest of the trip like a lost puppy. ”
“I don’t want him to follow me around.”
Raya gave a sharp laugh and pulled out a mini bottle of gin that she’d pilfered from Ana’s fridge. She cracked it open and took a sip.
“Just sayin’.”
Ana sighed and checked her phone: 11:58 p.m. Two minutes to go.
Part of her wanted to leave and run back to her room—just hide away until tomorrow.
But a bigger part needed to be here, to feel the light, to see people, to hear Alex play.
When it got to midnight—when the anniversary finally arrived, she didn’t want to be alone.
She pulled her hoodie close around her. There was a chill in the air that she hadn’t felt before.
“You holding up all right?” Raya nodded at her phone. She must have noticed the time. “Tomorrow’s going to be a rough day for all of us. But it’s got to be worse for you.”
“It’s just a date, right? Just another day. I mean, who cares if it’s been one year, or a year and a day, or ten years?”
“I know, but still. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. You lost so much…”
“I’m fine,” Ana said shortly. They didn’t need to go there. There was nothing anyone could say. She shifted slightly away from Raya, hoping she’d let it go. Ever since they had dated briefly in sophomore year, Raya had a knack for knowing what Ana was thinking, sometimes even before Ana did.
A deep tiredness was settling over her. Maybe she should have just stayed in her room. It might have been easier. No need to talk. No need to pretend.
She checked the phone screen again: 11:59 p.m.
It wasn’t like anything would change just because it had been a year, she told herself.
This was her life now and nothing was ever going to fix that.
Nothing was going to turn back time or bring Danny back.
There were no second chances. She watched dispassionately as the last seconds counted down, ticking away the worst year of her life.
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a date—just a jumble of stupid numbers. Nothing more.
12:00 a.m.
And there it was. Finally.
The anniversary. She was still breathing, wasn’t she? Life goes on.
Ping.
The alert made her jump. A message? How was that even possible? They didn’t have any phone reception.
On cue, there was a roar from the deep end.
“Oh my god, we have cell!”
“I got a message!”
“Me too.”
“Yaaaaasss!”
The elation was short-lived, the voices dropping off one by one as they studied their phone screens.
“Wait, I don’t have any bars.”
“This doesn’t make any sense…”
“What the hell?”
Ana clicked on the notification and opened the message. The formatting was off. It wasn’t a text or snap. The font was different, the background was black and the letters green and oversized. What was clear was the message:
Karl Hunt lit the match, but you are all guilty.
“Did you get the same thing?” she asked. Raya nodded. Ana glanced around to see if someone was secretly texting, but no one was.
“I don’t understand… I’m not getting any reception. How did we even get a message?” Raya’s voice had an edge to it.
“Maybe it’s a mistake?” Ana asked, though she already knew it wasn’t. “Or perhaps it’s an old message that just came through.” She was reaching, they both knew it.
There was another ping. Another message. They looked at each other briefly before turning to their screens.
I know what you did a year ago. Now it is time to pay the price.
“What…I mean…why?” Ana was lost for words. Who would do something like this? Who would send creepy messages today, on the anniversary? She felt a rising wave of panic.
I know what you did…
It had to be a prank, or a sick joke. Didn’t it?
She turned to Raya, but before they could speak, there was another ping. Ana jumped, almost dropping her phone. The new message was longer—much longer and much worse. She read it slowly, carefully, rereading parts as she took time to process.
When she was finally done, she put the phone down on the pool edge, pulled her hood up and wrapped her arms around herself, a feeling of cold, blind fear stealing through her.
Ellis was the first to speak.
“What did I tell you all?” he said. “Didn’t I say it? We’re in trouble. We’re in so much fucking trouble.”
Today at 9:58 a.m. you’re going to play a game I call: The Balloon Game. Every hour you must choose who is the guiltiest among you. Before the hour ends, that person must leave the circle, where they will die. If no one leaves, all of you will die. Only one can survive. Happy anniversary.