Chapter 105.
Alek is the first to speak once the door has closed.
“Are we actually going to vote on this?”
The words are barely out of her mouth when Tipton responds.
“I’ll go first,” he says. “I vote for me. Thanks to the rest of you for playing. Safe trip home.”
He looks around the room. “Where’s the champagne?”
Zhi, who rarely says much of anything, speaks up.
“You’re voting for yourself. Shocking,” he says.
Despite the tension in the room, Alek smiles at that.
Even Tipton can’t help himself and smiles, too.
Alek looks at the others. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s do this like adults. First question: Do we even believe him?”
“Absolutely not,” Jack says.
“Second that,” Zhi says.
“Let’s pretend for a second we do and talk it through, and not take all day to do it,” Alek says.
“I’m not saying we couldn’t ever agree on which one of us should be the big winner.
But let’s say, for the sake of conversation, that we could arrive at a consensus.
It would mean no more guns, no more knives.
Or mountains or deserts. Or snakes or sharks. ”
“No more dying,” Jack adds quietly.
Alek says, “But the first order of business is deciding if we even want to consider his proposal. Or think that we ever could get a consensus.”
“I say we play it out,” Jack says. “Winner take all.”
“Even though he’s the one still making up the rules as he goes along?” Alek asks. “And even though we still don’t know how he’s going to come up with a winner if we don’t accept this offer?”
“I know you’ve all heard me say this before,” Jack says, “but screw him.”
Tipton and Marcelo and Zhi slowly nod their heads in agreement.
“I might have put it more colorfully,” Tipton says. “But on this one, I’m actually with the rest of you.”
“Well, at least we’re in agreement on that,” Alek says.
In the next moment, The Host reappears, clearly having been listening to their conversation from the next room. It is much the way he’s been listening in on them from the start whenever it’s suited him, and without them knowing for sure when he was.
“Fifty million,” he says.
“Wait,” Marcelo says. “You just doubled the offer that quickly.”
The Host shrugs. “It’s what you do in a negotiation. And to be honest . . .”
“Good one,” Alek says.
“Even I fear what comes next,” The Host says. “But what’s necessary can be terrifying. It’s locked into a process for a reason.” He lets that sit. “Take the money. Call it mercy. Or stay and pretend you’re better than those of us who built this.”
Marcelo leans forward, voice careful. “So to be clear. Fifty million each to walk away. And a billion for whoever we agree is The One.”
“Indeed,” The Host says again. “More money than any of you will see in your lifetimes. In ten lifetimes.”
“But not a billion,” Tipton says.
The room falls into silence until Marcelo blurts out, “I’ll take it!”
The rest turn to stare at him. But Marcelo isn’t looking at them. He’s looking directly at The Host, as if they’re the only ones in the room.
“I’ll take the money and walk away,” he says. “No questions asked.”
“But he said that first we have to agree who in the room should be The One,” Alek says.
“Maybe I already have,” The Host says.
Chuckles. The sound is even more jarring than usual.
“You have a deal, sir,” he says to Marcelo.
Then he adds: “Now get out of here.”
Marcelo stands. He gives them a quick nod—apology, or farewell, or both—and heads for the door. But before he can leave the room, The Host reaches out and yanks the red button off the chain around his neck.
“Loser,” The Host says.
“Maybe,” Marcelo says, “but a rich loser.” He gives the rest of them a quick nod, then walks out of the room.
The Host walks back to the head of the table and addresses the four people still left, out of the original one thousand.
Jack. Alek. Tipton. Zhi.
“Anyone else?”
Tipton’s gaze flicks to the door—like he’s listening for a sound nobody else can hear. Could this be a way out? he allows himself to think for a second. But what if he doesn’t hold up his end? He can’t risk anything happening to her.
Tipton looks at Alek, then the others. “Let’s get on with it.”
The Host says, “Put your red buttons on the table.”
Alek doesn’t move.
“What for?” she asks.
The Host’s voice stays calm.
“No more safety nets.”