27. Maverick
Maverick
The alarm on my phone blared, signaling that it was six o’clock. After a quick shower, I dressed and headed directly to Carey’s room.
She didn’t answer when I knocked. Figuring she was in the bathroom and unable to hear me, I tried the handle and found it unlocked. Weird. I could’ve sworn I heard her lock the door after I left last night.
I stepped inside and peered around. “Carey?”
The room was empty. So was the bathroom. She must’ve hopped out of bed and gone straight to the drawing room for breakfast while I was getting ready a few minutes ago. That made sense, seeing as we were still trying to hide our relationship from the others.
I headed down the stairs to find a full breakfast spread awaiting the group on the drawing room table. I only counted five place settings. Heart hammering, I hurried back upstairs and pounded on Brooke’s door. She opened it a couple of minutes later, eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion. “What’s going on?”
“Is Carey with you?” I asked, peering over her shoulder.
“No. Why?”
I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I headed down to Zach’s room. Carey wasn’t there either, and I knew there was no way she was hanging out with Jasmine.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, stomach flipping as something occurred to me. Hudson could’ve finally decided to make good on his threat to hurt Carey.
I broke into a run and headed to the other end of the hall. Hudson’s room was locked, and he didn’t answer for several minutes, even though I was hammering on the door the entire time.
“Jesus, man,” he said when he finally opened the door a crack. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Where’s Carey?”
He sneered. “How the fuck would I know where your little girlfriend is?”
I shoved his door all the way open, pushing him aside. “Carey! Are you okay?”
“She’s not in here, dumbass,” Hudson said. “Why would she be?”
I whirled around, jaw clenched with fury. “You know exactly why.”
Before he could respond, our phones chimed loudly. I ignored mine, still glowering at Hudson. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and lowered his smarmy gaze to the screen. “Shit,” he muttered. “I guess this explains where she went.”
With my heart suddenly racing again, I pulled my phone out and opened the latest text from the Game Master.
Good morning, everyone! I must inform you all that Carey has been eliminated from the games. She broke the curfew yet again, and now she has paid the ultimate price. As for the rest of you, breakfast is served. Please eat quickly, because your next game starts in forty-five minutes.
My blood ran cold as I re-read the message, unable to believe my eyes. “No,” I muttered. “It’s not possible.”
“It is,” Hudson said. “Check the attachments.”
The message was accompanied by a short video and a photo. The video was surveillance footage from the hall showing Carey leaving her room and heading down to the far end of the hall. The accompanying photo was a closeup of her face, eyes closed and blood caked on one side of her forehead.
I staggered backward, reeling from the shock to my system as if it were a physical blow. Then I slumped on the side of Hudson’s bed and put my head in my hands, breaths coming in harsh, shallow wheezes.
I promised Carey I’d protect her; vowed to shield her with every fiber of my being. But I didn’t. I failed, and now the weight of that failure was pressing down on me, suffocating me with guilt and regret.
“Get up,” Hudson said in a clipped tone. “You saw what the Game Master said. New game soon.”
I should’ve known he wouldn’t give two fucks about what he’d just seen. He was probably glad Carey was out of the way.
In a numb haze, I stepped out of his room and headed to the drawing room to meet the others. Brooke and Zach looked as shocked and horrified as I felt. Even Jasmine seemed unhappy.
“I can’t believe he just took her in the middle of the night,” she said, head shaking with incredulity. “I didn’t even hear anything.”
“Me neither,” Zach said. His eyes were filled with tears, and his words came out in a choked murmur.
Brooke couldn’t speak at all. She was slumped on one of the chairs, staring into space.
“I really don’t want to play the next game,” Jasmine said, slumping down next to her. “What’s the point? We’re all going to die here anyway.”
Zach turned his watery gaze to me, presumably expecting me to jump in with one of my usual remarks about how we had to keep trying, just in case the Game Master had been honest about letting the ‘winners’ go in the end. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. I’d lost Carey, and now I didn’t give a shit if I lost everything else too.
Brooke finally spoke up. “Maybe Carey’s not really dead,” she murmured, twisting her hands in her lap.
Jasmine sighed. “Come on, Brooke. We all saw the photo.”
“All we saw was her face with a bit of blood on it. It doesn’t mean she’s dead.”
“Why would the Game Master lie about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of the next game?” Brooke said, sitting up straighter. “I mean, everything in this place is designed to break us, mentally as well as physically, so it wouldn’t surprise me if a fake death was in his repertoire of nasty tricks.”
Zach’s face brightened slightly. “Yeah. Maybe it’s a time-limited thing where we have to save her before it’s too late.”
“You guys are being totally delusional,” Jasmine muttered, gingerly picking up a muffin. “Carey is obviously dead.”
Hope flickered to life inside me, despite Jasmine’s pessimism. Perhaps Brooke and Zach were right. After all, we directly saw the others die. But not Carey. Unless her body was right in front of me, I didn’t have to believe she was really gone.
I clung to that fragile thread of hope until we arrived in Gaming Room 8 half an hour later. Carey wasn’t there waiting for us to rescue her. In fact, there was nothing in the room except a glass bottle and a gun.
“Welcome to Spin the Bottle, players,” the Game Master boomed from the nearest speaker. “As usual, we’ve got a bit of a twist on the usual game. In this version, the person the bottle lands on doesn’t have to kiss someone. Instead, they must pick up the revolver in the center, put it to their head, and pull the trigger. This revolver has a twenty-round capacity, but only one bullet has been loaded into it. If the person survives, it’s not necessarily their turn to spin. The turn goes to whoever was next in the circle. That way, you all get an equal number of spins until someone dies, upon which the game is over. Hudson will spin first. Have fun!”
Zach sighed heavily. “Great. Another game that comes down to pure luck.”
“See?” Jasmine said, shrugging helplessly. “The Game Master wants us all dead.”
“Not all of us,” Hudson said, eyes laser-focused on me. “Only one of us.”
I folded my arms. “Why don’t you just say what you fucking mean, Hudson?”
“Fine.” He turned to look at the others. “There’s something you should all know. Maverick has been sneaking around with Carey. At least he was, until the Game Master smacked her down. So if one of us is going to die here, it might as well be the snake who’s been lying and hiding shit from the rest of us.”
“Even if that’s true, this game still comes down to luck,” Jasmine said, giving him a withering look.
“It is true. The Game Master texted me the other day and told me to keep a close eye on him, so I’ve been doing exactly that. And guess what? I’ve seen him sneaking out of Carey’s room at night, even though he’s always pretended to hate her.”
Brooke’s eyes widened, gaze shooting between me and Hudson. “Is that really true?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s true,” I muttered. There was no point denying it anymore. “Carey and I are together. But we hid it for a good reason.”
“See? I told you so,” Hudson said. “Do we really need a dirty fucking liar in our ranks? Also, it’s not just luck in this game. There’s a strategy here. If you hold the bottle and flick your wrist the right way, you can almost guarantee it’ll land on the person of your choosing. I can show you.”
Brooke kept staring at him. “Okay. Show me,” she said flatly.
I looked over at her. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, I am. C’mon, Hudson. Show me.”
“Me too,” Zach said. “You’re right, man. We should eliminate the snakes from our ranks.”
Jasmine nodded. “Hard agree.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed heavily. “Guys, this is exactly what the Game Master has always wanted—for us to start turning on each other,” I said. “But if you kill me now, I won’t be able to help you find Carey if she’s really still out there somewhere.”
“She’s not. She’s dead, dumbass,” Hudson said with a sneer. The others ignored me and watched him as he sat cross-legged on the floor.
“This is how you do it,” he went on, grabbing the bottle an inch above the base. “You hold it right here and line the top up at the person next to the person you want it to land on. Then you flick it like this…” He paused and demonstrated the move. “And there you go. It almost always works.”
“You know I can do that too, right?” I said. “I can make it land on you during every single one of my turns.”
“I know. But it’s four against one,” Hudson said, smirking. “I like those odds.”
Jasmine smiled thinly. “Me too. Let’s begin.”
I grudgingly joined them in the circle, knowing I didn’t have a choice but to play. Hudson’s smirk remained in place as he grabbed the bottle, and it landed right on me after his spin.
I clenched my jaw and picked up the revolver. I wasn’t afraid, because I was certain the Game Master wouldn’t load the bullet into the first chamber. After all, killing the very first person to pull the trigger would destroy his chance to obtain some sick pleasure from watching the rest of us squirm.
With a deep breath, I pulled the trigger, hoping I was right. It made a faint clicking sound, but nothing else happened.
“My turn,” Jasmine announced from her spot next to Hudson. She lined up the top of the bottle with Brooke’s feet, clenched her hand over the base, and flicked her wrist. It spun around quickly before stopping with the top end aimed directly at Hudson. “You were right! The trick works!”
Hudson’s smirk faded. “Wait… what are you doing?”
Jasmine smiled sweetly. “It’s like you said. We should eliminate the snakes from our ranks. And you’re the only snake here, Hudson.”
“Exactly,” Zach muttered.
“But he… he’s been lying to everyone!” Hudson spluttered, jabbing a finger in my direction.
Zach shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t give a shit. I’ve never been a huge fan of Maverick, and he knows that, but he made it pretty clear to me this morning that he actually cares about Carey. Not only that, he’s helped us through every game.”
“But you’ve sabotaged people,” Brooke added. “Your own best friend. We all saw it.”
“Pick up the gun, Hudson,” Jasmine said in an icy tone. “Now. Or else we’ll do it for you.”
Nostrils flaring, he did as she said and pulled the trigger. Once again, nothing happened.
It was my turn next, followed by Zach and Brooke. We all made the bottle land on Hudson, and he survived each round.
“My turn,” he muttered, glaring daggers at me as he snatched up the bottle.
When it landed on me again, I took a deep breath, picked up the revolver, and pressed it against my right temple. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.
“Thank god,” Jasmine murmured when nothing happened.
We went around the circle once more, targeting Hudson every single time. When it finally came to Brooke’s second turn, she glared at him and spun the bottle to land on him yet again. “Your odds are getting worse, asshole,” she hissed across the circle.
He rolled his eyes. “If I survive this, it’ll be Maverick next. And who knows? Maybe that’s where the bullet is.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She fixed him with a steely gaze. “Why don’t you pull the trigger and find out?”
He lifted the revolver and pressed the barrel to his temple. When he pulled the trigger, a deafening crack echoed through the room.
The once sinister smirk on Hudson’s face twisted into a split-second of shock before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless and still. The metallic scent of his blood hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder.
“Well, I guess we all saw that one coming,” Jasmine said. “Can’t say I’ll lose any sleep over it.”
“Me neither,” Zach muttered through gritted teeth.
Brooke stared at Hudson’s crumpled body. “This place has turned us all into heartless monsters,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t even care. It’s the weirdest feeling.”
“You aren’t a monster,” I said stiffly. “We’re just doing whatever it takes to survive.”
“Game over,” the Game Master finally announced. “Congratulations to the survivors. The remainder of the day will be free for you while I prepare for tomorrow’s games. Lunch and dinner will be served at the usual times. Thanks for playing!”
I stood and looked down at Hudson’s lifeless body, face impassive. Like the others, I couldn’t even muster up a sliver of guilt or regret over his death. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, jabbing a thumb toward the door.
As we left the room and trudged down the hall, Zach looked at each of us in turn, eyes misty. “Do you guys still think Carey might be alive somewhere?”
Brooke sighed. “I really hope so,” she said. She turned to me. “Maverick? What do you think?”
“I really hope so too,” I said gruffly. “I promised I’d get her out of here.”
We settled into a grim silence as we headed upstairs. I returned to my room and slumped on my bed, mind reeling with unanswered questions about Carey’s disappearance.
What was she doing out of her room after the curfew? Where was she going? I knew she wasn’t coming to see me, because the surveillance video showed her heading to the very end of the hall. Only April and Courteney’s rooms were down there, and they were both dead, so she wasn’t going to see them either.
What else was down that end of the hall that could’ve tempted her out of her room in the middle of the night? Was she going to climb out of the window again, like we all did on our first day here?
No.That didn’t make any sense. There was simply no point in doing it, which meant she was either headed for April’s room or Courteney’s room. But that brought me back to the previous point—both of those girls were dead. So why go to their bedrooms?
I ruminated on it for the next couple of hours, and my mind kept coming back to one thing: Carey must’ve realized something about either April or Courteney. But what was it? What could either of the dead girls possibly have hidden that would be important enough to make Carey venture out alone in the night?
My thoughts eventually drifted back to something Carey said yesterday. ‘Does anyone else think there was something weird about that last game? I just keep getting this weird feeling about it. Like… something wasn’t right.’
I was getting closer now. I could feel it building inside me; the same realization that must’ve struck Carey last night. Something so shocking that she couldn’t wait until the morning to share it. Something that could possibly be hidden in one of the end rooms. But whatever it was, it continued to evade me.
As I mulled it over, it slowly occurred to me that I could just be completely delusional. This train of thought could be my heartbroken brain providing a distraction during one of my darkest moments; a coping mechanism to help me process the fact that Carey really died last night. I didn’t know exactly how it happened, so instead of being able to deal with that, I had to turn to why.
“No,” I muttered to myself, curling my hands at my sides until my nails dug into my palms. I had to believe there was a chance Carey was alive. Had to believe the Game Master was just messing with us, like Brooke suggested earlier.
My mind drifted back to that exact conversation, replaying her words. I found comfort in them, knowing she held the same hope that I did.
‘All we saw was her face with a bit of blood on it. It doesn’t mean she’s dead,’ she’d insisted.
‘Why would the Game Master lie about that?’Jasmine had replied, ever the naysayer.
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of the next game?’Brooke said next. ‘I mean, everything in this place is designed to break us, mentally as well as physically, so it wouldn’t surprise me if a fake death was in his repertoire of nasty tricks.’
I sat up straight, eyes widening. Fake death. Those two words were buzzing in my brain now, heightening all my senses. There had to be a reason for that.
Perhaps that was what Carey got too close to last night. It could be why she left her room in the night and headed to the end of the hall. She suspected that either April or Courteney had faked their death.
I cast my mind back to Courteney’s death. There was absolutely no way she could’ve faked it. I saw that wire cutting into her throat as the collar tightened around her. Saw the blood spilling and the light fading from her eyes.
But April…
“Holy fuck.” I drew in a harsh, guttural breath as the possibilities cascaded through my mind. “No way. No fucking way.”
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. That was what Carey picked up on during yesterday’s game. April’s body was absent, while all the others were present in some form. April was also the only one whose death could possibly be faked.
But why? The question burned in my mind, begging for elucidation.
I honestly had no idea why she would do something like this. What had any of us done to her to incur such a terrible wrath? Especially Carey. She only met April at the start of the school term a couple of months ago. So what the hell did she do to get dragged into this shitshow?
I leaned back against the headboard, mind whirling. If April was really the Game Master, did it even matter what her motive was right now?
Nope.
All that mattered in the end was keeping Carey safe and getting her home, just like I promised. That meant saving her from April if she was truly still alive… and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that she was still out there.
After all, whatever April’s motive was, she’d probably want some sort of fall guy to pin this shit on once the authorities finally tracked us down and found all the dead bodies. That was the most reasonable explanation I could think of for why she’d dragged Carey into this, and it meant Carey was definitely still alive.
A small part of my brain told me I was crazy; grasping at straws and making connections that didn’t really exist. A bigger part of me told me I was really onto something. I just needed some sort of proof so the others wouldn’t think I’d totally lost my shit.
I snatched up my phone and opened my text thread with the Game Master. It only contained texts from them, but on the first day here, they’d clearly stated that we could communicate both ways if we wanted to.
I shot off a quick message. Hey. Are you there?
The Game Master responded instantly. Of course. How can I assist you, Maverick?
Me: I want some exercise. Feeling really cooped up. Are we allowed to walk/run through the old gaming rooms, or do I have to stick to the hall and stairs?
Game Master: You can return to the previous gaming rooms if you want. They are all unlocked. The only one I wouldn’t suggest is Gaming Room 7, because there might still be a few loose snakes and spiders in there. Other than that, you have free rein. But if you’re hoping to find a way to escape, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Those rooms are totally sealed from the outside.
Me: I know. Just need to stretch my legs.
I got up and feigned interest in doing some pre-workout stretches in the hallway outside my room, knowing my every move was being monitored on the extensive array of surveillance equipment in this joint. Then I jogged down the hall, headed downstairs, and did a few laps of the first gaming room.
After enough time had passed to make it seem like I was genuinely interested in exercising, I headed into the sixth gaming room, where April had supposedly died. I pretended to cough while I licked my left index finger. Then I jogged onto the chessboard, headed to a spot where some bloody smears remained, and quickly crouched down, pretending I needed to tighten the shoelace on my right sneaker.
While I did that, I quickly swiped my hand along the floor next to my shoe, gathering up some of the blood with my wet finger. Then I rose to my feet and jogged out of the room.
I did a few more laps of the hall and entered another couple of gaming rooms for good measure. After leaving the last one, I stopped and bent slightly forward, pretending to catch my breath. While I did that, I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked off the so-called blood. It was sickly-sweet with a vague caramel flavor.
Fucking corn syrup.
April wasn’t shot on that chessboard. She was never shot at all.
She was the Game Master.