Chapter 33 #3
I take a step forward to get a closer look and notice that each sleeping body is handcuffed to the next, just waiting for a loud noise to wake them up.
I shine the light on the first set of handcuffs.
Something is dangling from them but I can’t quite tell what it is.
I take another step forward, and Keisha grabs my hand.
I squeeze her hand back, hoping she understands what it means.
I’ll be careful. I’ll be quiet. I continue forward and lean toward the mystery object, holding my lantern out in front of me. Freaking jingle bells?
I squeeze Keisha’s hand a little harder and take a few careful steps backward, pulling her toward the kitchen. We round the corner of the hallway and step a little quicker until we’re finally out of the kitchen and back on the casino floor.
“What the hell was that?” I say breathlessly.
“Boobytraps set by the pirates of the zombie apocalypse,” Keisha deadpans.
I can’t help it. I start to laugh and have to slap my own hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
There is absolutely nothing funny about this, and yet the whole thing is pretty hilarious.
It’s also brilliant, and part of me wants to meet whoever did this.
It’s elaborate, it’s spiteful, and it’s going to make it almost impossible to get to the pantry.
The puzzle itches at me and I feel overwhelmed with the need to solve it.
“Sorry,” Keisha whispers, waving her hand as if to wipe away her joke. “Look, whoever did this might still be here. Or they may have gone back to the shore and they’re coming back any second.”
“Or they’re one of the bodies on the upper deck,” I suggest. “Whoever did this isn’t coming back. Who would willingly step foot on a boat with that monstrosity waiting for them.”
Keisha sighs. “Either way, we need to decide whether it’s worth it to fight off eight of those things to get to whatever is in that pantry.”
“Did you see the bells on the handcuffs?” I ask her.
“Yeah. Do you think they would be loud enough to wake up the carriers?”
“Yes, I do. And if the bells aren’t enough, the sound of a body hitting the floor definitely would. This isn’t going to be easy, but I need to know what’s behind that door. We’ll need a pretty good plan though,” I say, hoping she has one.
I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She traces the air with her pointer finger, drawing something in midair. Her brow crinkles in frustration and she sighs. “I need a pen. I can’t visualize this well enough,” she grumbles, scrubbing at her eyes.
“There’s got to be one at the bar. Hold on,” I say.
I jog as fast as I can in the dim lantern light and slide behind the bar.
In a cup by the register, I find several pens and a stack of cocktail napkins and grab them.
When I get back to Keisha, she’s mumbling under her breath.
I shove the pens and napkins into her hands and she takes them to a nearby table.
I don’t dare interrupt her, but I do look over her shoulder.
A series of lines and circles spread across the napkins.
When she’s finished, there are eight circles and sixteen lines drawn in a careful pattern.
Then she begins ripping up tiny shreds of napkin and covering some of the lines with the pieces.
She removes the pieces and repositions them several times.
Minutes pass. Just as I’m about to ask her what the hell she’s doing, her head snaps up.
“There,” she says, puffing out her chest.
“There what? What are you doing?” I ask, bordering on annoyed.
“There,” she says, pointing at her napkin art, “is the most efficient way to take down the eight carriers.” I look at it again, trying to decipher the pattern and make it make sense.
She must see my blank stare. “I’ll show you.
Here are our first two kills. This one is mine.
This one is yours,” she says, pointing at the third carrier from the end on each side.
“Okay. Why those carriers in particular?” I ask, still confused.
“Because once they’re dead, they’ll weigh down the entire line and disable eight arms and two mouths all at once,” she explains.
I look at her drawing with fresh eyes, and I see exactly what she’s done.
“You’re a genius! So then we kill these two next?” I say, pointing to the two carriers on the ends of the chain.
“Exactly. That’s what I was thinking too.
And because they’re handcuffed, that leaves the next two without the use of their arms. They’ll be weighed down by dead bodies on either side of them.
After that we should tackle the ones in the middle.
Then go back and kill the two that are left,” she says, concentrating on her drawing.
“This is going to work,” I say, feeling confident.
“It sounds simple, but it only works if we can do it quickly. If we miss a target or hesitate, this could get out of control fast,” she says.
“Then we’ll be accurate and quick. We need those supplies.”
“And if the person who made this trap comes back?” she asks.
“I still think it’s unlikely, but if they do, we’ll handle them like we’ve handled everything else. We’ve got this,” I say, trying to reassure her even though the thought of taking on eight carriers at once makes me want to run screaming. I take in a deep, confident breath. “Let’s do this, then.”
“Remember. Third from the end, last, middle, second from the end. If things get out of control, turn and run for the rowboat,” Keisha says seriously.
I nod, letting her know I understand, then head back toward the hallway.