11. Carey
Carey
As I slowly stirred awake, my eyelids fluttered open to reveal an unfamiliar ceiling above me. Confusion crept in as I realized I was lying in a strange bed, covered in a thick plush blanket. The only light in the room came from a dim bulb overhead, but it was enough to clearly show the room around me—large with a stacked bookshelf, desk, closet, paintings adorning the walls, and a door on the opposite wall that presumably led into a bathroom.
With a groan, I attempted to piece together the events of the previous night, but my mind was muddled, memories slipping through my grasp like oil. My mouth was dry, and a faint ache throbbed at the base of my skull, silently indicating a severe hangover. This was no hangover, though. Something was different here. Off. I could sense it deep inside me, even though my memories were still shrouded in fog.
With hesitant movements, I pushed myself up to rest on my elbows, slowly blinking the sleep out of my eyes. The sense of unease in my gut grew as I slid out of bed and walked over to the window to orient myself. When I yanked the curtains open, a gasp escaped my mouth, and I took a faltering step backward, heart pounding.
There was nothing to see but a closed steel storm shutter which blocked off the view from the window entirely. Even a sliver of light couldn’t slip through.
Whirling around, I spotted a large white envelope on the bedside table, along with… oh my god. My phone!
I hurried over and grabbed it, rapidly tapping on the screen to activate it. With a sinking feeling, I realized it wasn’t my phone at all. It looked the same, but it was empty apart from one blue app that simply said ‘Messages’. There was no cell reception or internet connection.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, panic surging. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Memories were pouring in now, fueled by the adrenaline racing through my veins. I recalled the mansion, the masked man, the spiked drink, the feeling of sheer terror twisting in my guts… then nothing.
I snatched up the envelope and tore it open. With shaky hands, I unfolded the letter within and scanned the neatly printed words.
Dear Carey,
Welcome to the games!
I trust you slept well after the nightcap. You will find clean clothes in the closet and toiletries in the bathroom. Please shower and dress, and then make your way to the drawing room for breakfast at 9am.
You will find a phone on your bedside table. There is no cell service or internet connectivity, so you will be unable to contact anyone on the outside. However, it is connected to a house-wide intranet that will allow me to contact you via the messaging app on the home screen. You can also use the app to message me or the other participants, if need be.
Thank you for coming to play!
Yours truly,
The Game Master
I re-read the letter over and over, head spinning like I’d just stepped off a rollercoaster. What the hell was going on here? Who was the Game Master? Why did they thank me for ‘coming to play’? Play what, exactly? And who were the other players?
It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t tried the bedroom door yet. I’d seen the sealed window a moment ago and assumed I was locked in this room, but the letter made it sound like I was free to leave it whenever I wanted.
Springing to my feet, I hurried over and twisted the doorknob. It was unlocked. I turned it all the way and hesitated as I felt the door open a crack. Something was stopping me from opening it properly. Nothing physical; just a mental block. I was afraid of what I might find outside. Afraid that this room might be my only safe space in the mansion.
I quietly closed the door and followed the letter’s request for me to take a shower, figuring it might help to calm me down and prepare me for whatever lay in the hall beyond. It didn’t work. By the time I was done, I was still trembling with a mix of fear and confusion, wondering if this was all a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.
I glanced at the top right corner of the phone. It was 7:43. Still plenty of time before I had to find the drawing room.
I padded over to the closet and opened it to see a row of identical gray sweaters hanging over a shelf containing at least twenty pairs of neatly folded black sweatpants. Black sneakers in my size had also been provided in a drawer beside the shelf, surrounded by countless rolled-up pairs of black socks and underwear.
“I wonder what I should wear today?” I muttered to myself, hoping the vague attempt at humor might help somewhat with the dread churning in the pit of my stomach.
It didn’t, of course. Nothing in the world could prepare me to step out of this room. I just had to suck it up and get it over and done with.
With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty. When I looked to the left and right, I could see that my room was one of many in this hall. I was in the fourth one along from the staircase landing on the far right, and there were two more doors before the hall ended on the other side. There were also six rooms on the opposite side of the hall.
If every room was occupied, then that meant there were twelve ‘players’ in this terrifying situation.
A faint scuffing sound on the carpet snapped my attention toward the staircase landing.
“Oh my god!” I said, eyes widening as I spotted the person at the top of the stairs. “Brooke!”
I broke into a run a second later, and she did the same. “Carey! Thank God! I’ve been so worried,” she said in a choked tone, throwing her arms around me. “Have you seen the others?”
“April and Zach? No.” I pulled back from the hug, voice thickening with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to warn you, but they—”
“They took your phone. I know,” Brooke said hurriedly. “They did the same to me. By the time I realized I was drugged, it was too late. I couldn’t warn Zach not to come.”
“Do you remember much about what happened?” I asked.
She swallowed audibly before replying. “I had a weird feeling the second I got here. It just seemed… empty,” she said. “Apart from the guy in the weird mask. Did you see him too? Or was it someone else for you?”
“Was it a black mask with purple lights?”
Brooke nodded. “Same guy, then. When did you wake up?”
“About twenty minutes ago. I only just worked up the courage to leave my room a few seconds ago.”
“I don’t blame you,” she replied. “I woke up at five, and I was too scared to leave until seven.”
My brows rose. “So you’ve been exploring?”
“Sort of. There’s not much to explore. You’ll see why when you go down the stairs. But…” She trailed off, averting her eyes. “I bumped into some people. They were lured here and drugged, just like us.”
“Who?”
Brooke still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Hudson and Maverick. Oh, and Rhys Whitmer was with them. You don’t know him, but he’s Hudson’s best friend.”
“I knew it!” Fury surged in my chest, and I clenched my hands into fists. “I knew at least one of those assholes was behind this shit! I—”
Brooke interrupted me again. “Carey, wait. This is exactly why I was so reluctant to tell you,” she said, grabbing my arm. “I knew you’d think that, and I totally thought the same thing when I first ran into them. But they really, really don’t seem to have any idea what’s going on.”
I took a deep breath and unclenched my hands. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Very sure. They’re just as confused and freaked out as us.”
I pursed my lips, unsure if I believed that. Brooke seemed certain, though, and I didn’t want to argue with her. “What did you find downstairs?” I asked, glancing to the right.
“Not much. There are hallways and doors in every direction, but they’re all sealed off with the same sort of steel shutters that are on our windows.” Brooke sighed and shook her head. “Except one. It’s the drawing room.”
“You went in?”
“Not yet. We only found it a minute ago. The guys wanted to go in and check it out, but I decided to come back up here to see if anyone else was awake yet. That’s when I saw you.” She paused and looked over my shoulder. “Maybe everyone else is already in the drawing room. Or maybe they’re still sleeping. I don’t know. I don’t even know how many people are here.”
“I guess we should go to the drawing room and wait. The others will show up eventually, right? Because of the letter.”
Brooke nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We should—”
Her words abruptly dried up as the door directly to our left opened a crack. I stared at it, eyes wide, and watched as it swung farther open to reveal a pretty face with red-rimmed eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jasmine Briarwood snapped, glaring down at me.
My lips tightened. “Nice to see you too,” I said in a withering tone, crossing my arms.
“What the fuck is going on here? Did you two losers plan this bullshit to get back at me or something?” she asked, drawing herself up to her full height as her gaze flicked between me and Brooke. She was clearly trying to seem fearless and imperious, but the slight crack in her voice betrayed her underlying distress.
“No.” Brooke shook her head. “We woke up here, just like you.”
“What about last night? Were you invited here? With the weird black letter about the Galileo Society?”
“Yes.”
“I should’ve known it wasn’t a real secret society. Not if they were inviting people like you,” Jasmine said, nostrils flaring with disdain as she looked at me again.
“And that’s my cue. Always a pleasure, Jasmine,” I said. With that, I turned around and marched down the hall, Brooke at my side.
“Wait!” Jasmine hurried after us. “Let me come with you!”
“Are you sure you want to hang out with losers like us?” Brooke asked, looking over her shoulder.
Jasmine’s face had gone pale, and her hands were shaking. “Look, I just… I don’t want to be alone, okay?” she said in a small voice. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Fine. Come with us,” I said flatly. “But one more bitchy comment and you’re on your own again.”
She nodded and remained silent until we reached the staircase. “Is the drawing room down there?” she asked, peering over the baluster.
I nodded. “We haven’t gone in yet. We’re going now to see if the others are there.”
“Wait!” A familiar voice called out behind us, and we whirled around to see April and Zach hurrying down the hallway, faces etched with a mix of panic and relief.
Brooke and I dashed back up the hall and threw our arms around them, clinging to them both for what felt like an eternity. Jasmine awkwardly hung back during the reunion, arms folded and lips pursed.
“Are you okay?” April asked, voice muffled against my shoulder.
“Not really,” I said softly. “I’m scared. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Me neither. This shit is crazy.” She finally broke away from the hug and tilted her head. “Do you remember anything about last night?”
“Yes. I was drugged.”
Her eyes widened. “By a person in a mask?”
“Yup.”
“Us too,” April said, motioning to Zach.
“I woke up in that room down there,” he added in a tremulous tone, pointing to the second-last door on the right. “The first thing I saw was this creepy letter telling me to find the drawing room. April’s room is near mine, so we ran into each other when we left.”
“We’re heading to the drawing room now,” I said. “Oh, and by the way… apparently Hudson Calloway, Maverick Reinhart, and Rhys Whitmer are here too.”
April’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. Those fucking ass—”
Brooke held up a palm. “They aren’t behind this,” she said hurriedly. “They were brought here and drugged the same way we were.”
“Right.” April looked at me with raised brows, and I could see that her bullshit radar was going off the same way mine did when I first heard the news. “Well… let’s go and see, I guess.”
We headed back to the staircase and descended, one by one. As Brooke described earlier, almost every doorway and window on the ground floor level was blocked off by thick steel barriers, leaving only one hall open on the far right of the foyer. A door at the end stood slightly ajar. Voices drifted out from the room beyond.
Zach entered first. The rest of us followed him, taking in the drawing room with wide-eyed wonder. It was a large and elegant space filled with ornate furnishings, oil paintings, and statues, all warmly lit by a bronze and crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the wood-paneled ceiling. An enormous wooden table sat in the middle, laden with silver trays of food, coffee and tea pots on warmers, and glass juice jugs. Chairs with carved features and purple velvet cushions surrounded the table. There were twelve altogether, and four of them were occupied.
Maverick sat at the head of the table, with Hudson to his right. A lanky blond guy was on his left; presumably Rhys Whitmer. A beautiful girl with smooth brown skin and catlike green eyes sat next to him. I recognized her as Kiara Swift, famous influencer and owner of the finsta account that posted all the nasty stuff about me a few weeks ago. She was also Jasmine’s best friend.
“Oh my god, babe!” She sprang up and hugged Jasmine as soon as she spotted her. “I’ve been waiting for you!”
While the two of them embraced, the rest of us looked over at Maverick, Hudson, and Rhys.
“Did you guys find anything?” I asked.
“And when did Kiara get here?” Brooke added.
“She was in here when we came to check it out,” Maverick said. “Apparently, she woke up at six and came straight down here. She said she figured she’d wait for the others to show up.”
“Fair enough.”
“There’s also this.” Maverick pointed to an embossed card in front of him. “Name cards.”
I squinted at each card in turn until I found mine at the opposite end. April went around the table carefully examining each card. Then she went to her assigned spot and pulled out the chair. “There’s twelve of us, if these cards are accurate,” she said. “Nine of us are already here, and there’s also Courteney Phang, Tate Salinas, and Evan Holt.”
“Yeah, I know. I read them earlier.” Maverick leaned forward. “Did you see the other three anywhere?”
“No.” April shook her head. “They must be in their rooms.”
“I guess so. Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Maverick gestured behind us, and we all turned to look.
A huge flatscreen TV hung on the wall. It was off, but a tiny red light at the bottom let us know it was plugged in somewhere and presumably working.
“Did you find a remote anywhere?” April asked, scanning the room again.
“No. We looked everywhere,” Rhys said. “There’s nothing in here. Not counting the furniture and the food.”
Hudson still hadn’t said a word. He’d been glowering at me from his spot at the table since the second I walked in, but I kept pretending not to notice. Fuck him.
April opened her mouth to speak again, but she was interrupted by the arrival of the final three—Tate, Evan, and Courteney. It was obvious who Courteney was, because she was the only girl in the trio, but I wasn’t sure who was who when it came to the guys. Both were tall with pale skin. One had prematurely receded brown hair, and the other had curly ginger hair.
“Oh, thank fucking God, there’s food!” one of them said, making a beeline for the table. He snatched up a croissant from a tray and lifted it to his mouth.
Rhys stood and knocked it out of his hand before he could take a bite. “Don’t be such a dumbass, Tate!” he said. “This shit could be poisoned!”
So that was Tate, meaning the redhead was Evan.
Maverick stood, jaw set like granite. “We’re all here now,” he said. “Let’s try to figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Everyone started talking at once, so Maverick briskly clapped his hands to attract everyone’s attention back to him. “One at a time!” he said. “Let’s go around the table and say how we got here. We might have different stories. Rhys, you first.”
The twelve of us shared the same story. We were all given letters in black envelopes inviting us to the so-called Galileo Society, and each of us had shown up at the mansion on 4 Sutherland Drive for the interview, only to find ourselves drugged by the welcome cocktail.
“We all had different times written in our letters, right?” April asked, looking around the group. “So they could take us one by one.”
“I think so.” Maverick nodded curtly. “Let’s go around the table again and say what time we were given.”
April was right. Every single one of us had received a different time in our invitations, fifteen minutes apart.
“Who was the first to arrive?” April asked, cocking her head. “Hudson, right?”
Hudson simply grunted, and Maverick nodded. “Yeah, at 7:00. That was the earliest time anyone said.”
“Who gives a fuck?” Rhys said, eyes narrowing. “The time doesn’t matter.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Brooke replied in an acid tone. “I’d say the first person to arrive is the most suspicious.”
“Exactly,” April said. “That’s why I asked.”
Hudson finally spoke up. “Look, I had nothing to do with this shit, okay?” he said. “I have no fucking clue what’s going on in this place. All I want to do is get the fuck out of here, but every single door, hallway, and window is blocked off. We’re sealed in.”
“Speaking of this place…” Courteney tentatively piped up from her spot between Zach and Brooke. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but it seems really familiar.”
Rhys snorted. “No shit. We were all here last night, genius.”
A pink blush rapidly bloomed on Courteney’s cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” she said softly, lowering her eyes to the empty plate in front of her. “Something about it feels familiar, and it’s not because of last night. I feel like I’ve been here before, even though I know I haven’t.”
“I get it,” Zach said in a sympathetic tone. His hand was close to hers, and he gave her a brief, reassuring pat. “I was actually thinking the same thing. Déjà vu.”
Courteney looked up at him with a small, grateful smile. If we weren’t all trapped in such a petrifying situation, I’d think it was a cute moment between the two of them.
“So you guys have looked around?” Evan asked, raising his brows. “Everything is definitely blocked off?”
“Yup.” Maverick nodded. “It’s obvious that this is a big place, but almost every doorway is sealed, so we can’t explore most of it.”
“This is so fucking weird.” Tate started pacing around the room. “What the fuck is going on? Why us?”
“No idea. That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Maverick said, signaling for him to sit down again. “Did we all see the same person when we got here?”
“Good question,” April said. “I assumed it was the same person for all of us, but who knows? For me, it was a tall person with a black cloak and mask with magenta lights on it.”
“Me too,” I said. “I got the impression it was a man, but I can’t be sure because of that weird voice-changer thing they were using.”
“Why did you think it was a man?” Jasmine asked, looking over at me with an expression that suggested she’d just witnessed me crawling out of a dumpster.
“Because they were really tall.”
“I’m six-two in my favorite heels,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It could totally have been a woman.”
My lips tightened. “I don’t think so. It really seemed more like a guy.”
“Smells like internalized misogyny to me,” Kiara said. “I guess all women are meant to be small and weak and totally—”
“Shut up, Kiara,” Maverick cut in. “Carey wasn’t saying that. She was just saying that the person was very tall, and on average, men are taller, so it’s statistically likely that this person was male. Right?”
“Yeah, exactly,” I said, eyes widening with surprise. This was the second time Maverick had jumped to my defense even though he absolutely despised me. “They looked around six feet three or four to me, so I assumed it was a guy. But I guess it could’ve been a woman. I don’t know for sure. I was just saying what I thought at the time, that’s all.”
Maverick dropped his gaze from me. “Did we all see the same person? Very tall with the black cloak and mask that April described a minute ago?” he asked. Everyone nodded, and he went on. “Great. That means we probably all saw the same person.”
“Which means we might only be dealing with one person here,” Evan said, scratching his chin. “But who? And why?”
“Did anyone notice anything about the guy at all?” Maverick asked. “Anything that could be used to identify him?”
Everyone shook their heads except Brooke. “When he was pouring my drink, one of his gloves moved a little. I saw a flash of his wrist. There wasn’t much to see. Like, no tattoos or hair that I noticed. But the person is white. I saw that much.”
Maverick steepled his hands on the table. “Is everyone willing to concede that this person is probably a man?” he asked, giving Kiara a pointed look. She rolled her eyes, but she still nodded along with everyone else. “Okay. Now we also know he’s white. So can anyone think of a tall white guy who might want to pull some crazy shit like this with the twelve of us?”
“Who would everwant to do this with any of us?” Courteney asked, eyes wide.
“I have no idea.” Rhys shook his head. “Someone who hates rich people, maybe? We could’ve been taken for ransom.”
“Not all of us have rich parents. Carey, for example,” Hudson said, staring at me. His superior tone shot disgust through my veins like poison, and I lifted my chin and glared right back at him, unable to mask my hatred.
“I don’t think it’s a ransom scheme,” April said. “This is too elaborate for something like that. Right?”
“I don’t know. People are willing to do all sorts of crazy shit for money,” Evan said with a shrug.
A lightbulb seemed to go off in my head. I sat up straight. “It doesn’t really matter who it is in the end.”
“Well, of course you don’t think it matters that we’re being held captive in some creepy old mansion,” Kiara said with another exaggerated eyeroll. “You criminals all have to stick together, right?”
I could feel a warm flush creeping over my chest and neck, but I kept my composure. “That’s not what I’m saying,” I replied. “I was just saying it doesn’t matter because they won’t get away with it for long. I mean, we all sneaked off campus last night, didn’t we?”
Understanding dawned on multiple faces around the table, but Tate, Jasmine, and Hudson continued to look confused.
“So what?” Tate asked.
“So the school will eventually realize that we’ve all disappeared. Actually, they probably already have.”
“How does that help us? It’s not like they know where we went.”
“Jesus, man, how slow are you?” Rhys said, upper lip curling. “Think about it. Twelve students from an elite boarding school have gone missing. The cops will see it as their number one priority.”
“Exactly. And I don’t know about you guys, but I got an Uber to the mansion,” I said. “That means anyone who’s looking for me can just check my Uber account, if that’s possible, and get my last known drop-off address. Or maybe they can trace my phone’s GPS signal. I’m not sure. But you see my point, right?”
April nodded. “I got an Uber too. So once the school alerts the police about the missing students, they’ll eventually realize that all twelve of us went to 4 Sutherland Drive last night.”
“They’re probably already looking for us,” Maverick said. “Like Rhys just said, twelve Babylon students going missing is a big fucking deal. So it’s only a matter of time until they track us here and knock the door down.”
“Thank god,” Kiara said, inspecting a fingernail. “I can’t wait for this bullshit to be over.”
“I have a feeling it hasn’t even started yet,” Courteney murmured.
The screen on the wall suddenly lit up, revealing a crystal-clear image of the same masked person who drugged each of us the previous night. He was sitting in a dim room on an ornately carved chair that resembled a wooden throne.
“That’s him!” Jasmine said, pointing a shaky finger at the screen.
“No shit, genius,” Zach muttered.
“Hello, everyone.” The familiar robotic voice filled the room as the masked man tilted his head onscreen. “I hope you’re all enjoying your breakfast. Don’t worry—nothing on the table is laced, so if that’s been a concern for you up until now, feel free to dig in. You’ll need your energy for the next few days.”
He paused and lifted a hand onscreen, gesturing to the spread on the table. Tate tentatively leaned forward and grabbed the same croissant Rhys had knocked out of his hand earlier. “Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’m starving.”
He took a bite and chewed rapidly. Then he gagged and started clutching at his throat before letting out a loud guffaw. “It’s fine,” he said, voice garbled by the mouthful of food. “No poison.”
“Do you really think you’re funny?” Kiara said in a snide tone. “Because you’re actually a stupid, childish asshole, and this type of bullshit is exactly why no one invites you to anything unless you say you’ll bring—”
The masked man started talking again, interrupting Kiara’s rant. “You’re no doubt wondering who I am and why you’re here,” he said. “You can call me the Game Master. I have carefully selected each of you to participate in a series of challenges. Each challenge scenario has been designed in the form of a game. If you play well and manage to survive until the final round, you will be awarded with the ultimate prize—your freedom. However, if you die during one of the games, you’re out. For good.”
He paused again for dramatic effect, and a collective gasp resounded through the room.
“If we die?” Jasmine shrieked, leaping to her feet. She looked around the table with a wild-eyed expression. “This is a fucking joke, right?”
“Of course it is. It has to be,” April said. Despite her firm words, her wide eyes and pale face made it clear she wasn’t sure.
“You may be tempted to assume this is some sort of prank,” the Game Master went on. “Let me assure you, for your own safety, that this is no joke. If you fail a challenge, you will die. I cannot be any clearer about that.”
Maverick stared at the screen, stony-faced. “Who the fuck are you?”
The Game Master paused again. Then he leaned forward, masked face ominously close to the camera. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said. “This is a pre-recorded message. I couldn’t address you live, because I’m actually in the room with you right now.”
Jasmine whirled around, eyes practically on stalks. “Where the fuck is he?” she screamed. “Come out, asshole!”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” I muttered, heart aching with fear.
The Game Master leaned back in his chair. “That’s right, everyone,” he said, cocking his head. “The Game Master is one of you.”