Chapter 110.
Ward Hillshire stands with Jack outside the next door, a guard on either side like this is a prison transfer instead of a “game.”
“Where are the others?” Jack asks.
“All on this floor, in their own chambers,” Hillshire says. “Alone with their demons.”
“Care to tell me what that means?” Jack says.
“You need only concern yourself with your own demons at the moment,” Hillshire says.
“You know the unfortunate expression of modern times, Mr. McHenry? ‘You do you.’ Surely you recall sharing with your interviewer back in Ohio that you detest confined spaces. That’s what is waiting for you on the other side of this door.
Do you remain convinced you can handle this? ”
Jack looks down at his tattoo.
“I don’t lose,” he says.
“If you come to find you can’t handle this, we of course can let you out of here,” Hillshire says. “But just know that once you step back outside, you will have lost. No arguments. No second chances. No red button.”
“I won’t leave the room,” Jack says. “And I won’t lose.”
He gives Hillshire a long look.
Jack’s voice drops. “How confined.”
Ward looks at the door like he doesn’t like the answer either.
“A coffin,” he says.
Jack holds still for a moment. Then he nods once, like it’s a decision and a promise at the same time.
“I’m on the one-yard line,” Jack says.
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out. Then does the same thing again. Jack knows how important it’s going to be for him to control his breathing once he’s inside. It’s a tool he’s used before in moments of great stress.
And moments of great fear.
I had no fear jumping out of airplanes, he thinks, not even the first jump without a trainer.
Maybe because all he had around him was space.
And air.
This is different.
He turns to Ward: “Open it.”
Patrick Arrasmith