Chapter 37 Beck #2
He flipped over the toy and spotted a zipper down its stomach.
Sure enough, when he opened it, he found two narrow cylinders inside.
He plucked them out. “A mini flashlight,” he said, “and a scroll.” He unrolled the thick paper, revealing a long message in cursive writing, but written as a mirror image.
Beck’s nose wrinkled. “That’s a headache waiting to happen. But hold on, I can figure it out.” He squinted. “ ‘Are we feeling . . . nervous . . . ,’ ugh, this is going to take forever.”
“Hold it up to the mirror,” said Adi, but when Beck held it up to the remaining mirror, the distortion from the reflection only made it worse. “Or we can come back to that later,” he amended. “There might be normal mirrors in the next room.”
“At least we have a black light now,” said Carter, flicking on the flashlight and shining it over the graffiti. The message written in runes jumped out at them. “And what about this guy?” She turned to the clown face with the newly opened mouth.
The lights went out again. Beck groaned, holding back the urge to spit out the disgusting chemical flavor as the clown droned on. It really felt like they were doing well this round—if it weren’t for these annoying interruptions, they’d probably be finished.
After the clown had made its vaguely threatening statement and its laughter had faded away, the lights returned to reveal Sierra standing in front of the clown head on the wall, eyeing it like she was facing her mortal enemy.
“If this thing bites off my hand,” she said, “I fully expect you all to chip in part of your prize money to get me a kick-ass prosthetic.” Then she took a deep breath and plunged her hand into the clown’s mouth.
Beck almost expected Sierra to start screaming, or some awful guillotine blade to come crashing down, or—
“I got something!” Sierra shouted, just as jets of air blew from the clown’s eyes into her face and a burst of confetti came shooting out of the clown’s nose, swirling around Sierra like a tornado.
She screamed—like, an actual scream—and jumped back, tripping on a pink fox and falling onto her rear end.
“Are you okay?” Carter asked, crouching beside her.
Sierra looked about ready to murder someone as she held up a key. “Dandy,” she growled. “Let’s get out of here.”
Carter snatched the key out of her hand and slotted it into the padlock under the final mirror. It swung open. Beck perked up, thinking this could be it—the escape! For the semifinals, that had to be a record time.
But . . . no. Beyond the mirror was a circular tunnel at waist height. The carnival music was louder coming through it.
“I’m going in!” said Beck, throwing himself into the tunnel. Sierra followed, but the moment they were both inside, the tunnel began to turn like a corkscrew, sending Sierra crashing.
“Hold on, Sierra!” Beck cried, shimmying through to the end and flopping out the other side.
As Sierra tried to regain her balance and crawl forward, Beck reached back into the tunnel, grasped her forearms, and pulled her through with such force they both fell into the next room, Sierra sprawled on top of him.
He flashed her a winning smile. “I love this room.”
Sierra rolled off him as Carter and Adi yelped and spat profanities while making their way through the tunnel and tumbling to the floor. The lights went out again, and that awful clown cackled. “Not so fast! Let’s make the fun last!”
“Oh my god,” muttered Adi when the lights came back on. “If I ever meet that guy, I am going to shove that squishy red nose straight up his—”
“Mirrors!” said Carter.
The tunnel had led them into a maze of mirrors, their reflections bouncing back at them and continuing on and on . . . infinite. On the wall, another clock had stalled at 25:06. Twenty-five minutes so far, for the semifinal. That was good, right?
“Beck, where’s that note, the backward one?” asked Sierra.
Beck pulled out the note they’d found inside the chameleon and held it up to the nearest mirror, reversing the letters.
He started to read out loud. “Are we feeling nervous yet, O . . .” He cut off, tearing his gaze away from the paper to scan the walls around them, landing on one of the small embedded cameras. He swallowed.
“What?” said Carter. “Is it another . . .” She lowered her voice. “Another clue?”
He nodded, and looked at Sierra, whose expression was shadowed. “We’re almost out of this room. Let’s finish this.”
Beck’s thoughts were spinning. Another clue. What had the Real Game Master written for them this time?
But then he glanced at the frozen clock, and he knew Sierra was right. They were so close.
He pocketed the letter.
“There’s more pigpen,” said Adi, shining the black light over the graffiti that was scribbled across the mirrors.
As he examined it, his expression grew increasingly bewildered.
“What?” said Carter. “What does it say?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” he said, sounding truly concerned. They all faced him.
“You don’t know?” spat Sierra. “What was all that about having it memorized since you were—”
“It doesn’t make any sense, okay?” said Adi.
He pointed the flashlight at the graffiti, revealing a series of runes that definitely made no sense to Beck.
Going symbol by symbol, Adi read out, “U-T-M-U-N-C-W-U-T-M . . . It doesn’t spell anything. It’s nonsense.”
“No, that can’t be right.” Sierra grabbed the flashlight from him. “Maybe we’re supposed to start reading over on this side. Or it’s an anagram. Or . . .”
“Sierra,” said Adi, “I’ve looked at it from every angle. Nothing works.”
Sierra threw her hands in the air. “Why didn’t we hold on to that damn food boat? Oh right, because Adi had it memorized. Adi is a freaking prodigy. If he says he can read it without a cipher—”
“Reverse it,” Carter interrupted.
Adi glanced at her. “What?”
“We’re in a hall of mirrors,” she said. “What if it’s written backward, like . . . like the other message?”
Sierra nodded. “Of course. Adi?” When he glared at her, she added, “I’m sorry for mocking you or whatever, just do it.”
“On it, boss.”
“Tell me the letters as you figure them out,” said Beck. “I’ve got a good memory.”
Beck could practically see Adi’s brain doing acrobatics as he tried to figure out what each letter would be in reverse.
“W-A-N-T-O-U-T . . .”
“Yes,” Carter whispered. “This is it.”
“T-W-I . . .”
Beck pressed his fingers to his temples, visualizing the letters as Adi read them out.
“S-T-A-N-D-S . . .”
Sierra played with her lip piercing.
“H-O-U-T.” Adi paused. “That’s it. What did that say?”
“Want out? Twist and shout,” the rest of them said in unison.
Adi balked. “Literally?”
With a shrug, Beck jumped into the center of the room and belted out a very off-key rendition of “Twist and Shout,” a song his parents loved. He sang at the top of his lungs, simultaneously twisting his hips and waving his arms in the air.
The rest of his team . . . did not.
“Oh, come on,” he said, holding a hand out to Carter. She spared a self-conscious glance for the cameras, then squeezed her eyes shut and started awkwardly swinging her hips side to side.
“That’s the spirit!” cried Beck. “Come on, Sierra!”
With an exaggerated eye roll, Sierra raised her arms into the air and started waving them around. “Something, something, twist and shout,” she mumbled.
“You’re a star!” shouted Beck. “Now take it away, Adi!”
Adi stood in the corner, watching them with a look of unadulterated horror.
“No,” he said.
Until Carter shimmied closer to him and grabbed his hands, pulling him onto their imaginary dance floor. Adi made a face but didn’t resist as Carter spun under his arm, and Beck squawked out the lyrics, and Sierra kept her expression completely blank while twisting her body . . .
“Oh god, anything to make it stop,” Adi said. Then he took a deep breath and joined Beck for the big finale. “Come on and twist a little closer now, and let me know that you’re mine!”
The lights turned off again, plunging them into darkness. The clown’s voice came over the speakers, “Now wasn’t this fun? Come back and play with me again soon!”
Then—a square of light as one of the mirrors creaked open, revealing a laughing Fitzy on the other side.
“Team Helsing, you have escaped! And what a truly memorable escape it was.”