No Escape by Julie Moffett
Chapter Twenty-Four
Slash
I peered over Clarissa’s shoulder and saw an open door revealing a chute leading to a basement or a lower level.
“A slide? Well, this is right down my aisle,” Mia said, clapping her hands.
“Do you mean ‘right up my alley’?” Clarissa asked.
I sighed. I was going to have to have a conversation with Lexi about what she was, or wasn’t, teaching Mia, because it obviously wasn’t working.
“What’s the difference between an aisle and an alley? And why do I go up instead of down it?”
“I’ll explain later, dear,” Clarissa said, patting Mia on the shoulder.
“So, the game room is in the basement?” I asked Brando.
“Seems more like that’s where the dungeon would be,” Winston muttered.
“Au contraire, Mr. Carmichael,” Brando said. “Castrum Augustus was a military fortification and did not possess a dungeon. However, it is an excellent suggestion. It might be a nice touch to add in the future. Perhaps a place where we can intern participants who fail in their challenges. Sort of like the nonlethal equivalent of losing one’s life in our games.”
Everyone laughed, except me. I wondered as to the true purpose of the slide.
It was as if Brando read my mind. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why Mr. Zachetti would build a slide into a castle. I assure you, it’s only to make sure his guests have some fun.”
“How steep is the slide and how do we know if it’s safe?” Winston asked.
“I assure you, it’s completely safe,” Brando answered. “But I’ll say nothing more, as I don’t want to spoil any of the surprises.”
“So, you’re saying my pregnant fiancée would have had to go down this slide had her team chosen the game room?” Gio asked.
“We would not have insisted your expectant bride-to-be go down the slide,” Brando said. “But, thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that, do we? Now, when the last person slides down, I’ll start the clock. You may not come back up the slide, so please, don’t try.”
“Do we really have to go down the slide?” Clarissa asked, her hands on her hips. “I have white slacks on. Can’t we take the elevator?”
“I’m sorry, but you must use the slide. However, if you wish to forfeit the challenge, you may leave the way you came. Just keep in mind that all of you must go down the slide and participate to win the challenge.”
Gio shrugged. “Fine. I’ll go first and confirm it’s safe. You’re playing for my honeymoon, after all, so I might as well be the first to take the challenge. See you on the other side.” Without another word, he stepped forward on the slide and practically leaped down. There was no sound for a bit, followed by a short scream and abrupt silence.
Everyone looked at Brando with wide eyes before Winston turned toward me, his expression sending a clear message.
Everything is dangerous when you are around.
I sensed a revolt brewing, starting with my in-laws, and no ready plan to mitigate it. I started to say something when Gio called out from below.
“Hey, that wasn’t too bad. A little twisty but nothing special. It was fun. Come on!”
“Why did you scream?” Alessa shouted down to him.
“I was just kidding,” Gio said, laughing. “Relax. It’s perfectly safe, and the room looks interesting. Come down one at a time and I’ll catch you.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me.” Mia sat on the slide. “In a while, juvenile,” she called out as she disappeared.
Winston and Clarissa rolled their eyes at each other, and I made a note to have my Mia conversation with Lexi as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Alessa stepped up to the slide. “My turn, I guess.”
She slid down, leaving me, my in-laws, and the gamemaster in the room.
“Ladies first,” Winston said to his wife, sweeping out his arm toward the slide. “Come on, Clarissa, you can do this. We’re not going to fail because of a pair of white pants.”
“Fine, but you go first,” Clarissa said. “I want you down there to cushion my fall if it becomes necessary.”
“Have it your way.” Winston sat down and pushed off. When he called back up to her, Clarissa followed until it was just me and the gamemaster alone in the room, sizing each other up.
“I’ll start the clock in fifteen seconds,” Brando said as I stepped onto the slide. “Good luck. I believe you’ll find this puzzle quite challenging.”
I pushed off, going down the slide at a good clip. Before I hit the bottom, I heard the door above me close. I braced myself so I landed smoothly when my feet hit the floor, then automatically swept the room with my eyes.
The exit door was on the far side of the room with a large digital clock showing a time of 1:59:56 and counting down. The walls were made of stone and were likely a part of the original castle. There were no windows or other obvious means of exit. Strange carnival-style music played through hidden speakers.
The ceiling was high and, oddly, covered with balloons, which were divided by colors and marked into sections by lines of white balloons. I counted quickly, noting there were eight different areas and nine colors of balloons including the white ones. Each balloon area was numbered by a small sign hanging from the ceiling in the middle. Along the left half of the room the balloons were numbered one to four, starting with the one at the far end. For the right half of the room, the balloon numbers ran from five, which was closest to the slide, to the number eight at the far end of the room.
The lighting was dim, but I made out two square game tables set up along the right stone wall. The one closest to me had a chessboard with what looked like a game in progress, a chess timer, a small pad of paper, and two chairs. Farther down the wall, another game table with four chairs had been set up, but I couldn’t yet see what game it held.
Across the room from those tables stood an unusual, rectangular table. Two sculpted figures posed like Atlas supported the thick marble top on their backs. From my angle, it looked like large jigsaw puzzle pieces were scattered atop it. Farther along the wall stood a large scale with a circular dial that you might see at a carnival, the kind that would presumably show your weight if you stood on it. Behind that, there appeared to be an ATM.
What the hell?
“What do we do?” Alessa asked me.
The sheer chaos of the layout had to be part of the puzzle, so I considered the best strategy to start. “Let’s explore the room for a few minutes. Note any items that strike you as potentially important. Avoid moving anything until we know what and where everything is. Let’s take inventory before we decide on a strategy.”
The team started to wander around. I headed toward the center of the room, where a pedestal with a rectangular top had been positioned. A dark wooden box, the size of a small microwave and ornately engraved with Roman-style vines and leaves, had been placed atop the pedestal. The box had a hunting bow with a notched arrow carved into the top. A combination lock, the kind you might find on a briefcase or a bike, was embedded into the side of the box. The lock had an eight-digit code.
I left the pedestal without touching the box and strode over to the table with the game I hadn’t been able to see upon my arrival. The table was hexagonal in shape and covered with a board game, small tiles, and a tile holder that looked like the one from a Scrabble game. I’d only played the game a few times, but I knew Lexi’s parents were enthusiasts.
The game seemed to be nearly finished, as it was covered with tiles and words already in play on the board. In fact, there appeared to be only one player left with any tiles to play. A pen and a small piece of paper with the handwritten words 48 points sat at the lower right of the board.
I moved on, continuing to take inventory. A wall-size, garish carnival panel hung at the far end of the room, opposite the slide and adjacent to the exit door. Decorated with clowns, the panel had eight doll-size doors arranged in two rows of four. Six black gaming chairs were fixed to the floor and arranged in an arc in front of the panel. Plastic guns were attached by a cable and rested in a holster to the side of each chair. The carnival music came from camouflaged speakers I was now able to detect near the panel.
I startled when Gio’s hand landed on my shoulder. “What is this—a circus?” he asked me in Italian.
“It’s definitely starting to feel that way with the clowns, a scale, an ATM, and balloons,” I replied.
“So, where do we start?”
I turned around to survey the room in its entirety. I honestly had no idea, but we needed to get going. “Okay, team, we’ve seen what’s here. A wide variety of games, some traditional, some not. There’s almost a circus feel to things. But it’s time to get started. I suggest taking a quick look at the box in the middle of the room on that pedestal together, and then we’ll decide how to proceed from there.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, so we headed to the pedestal and examined the large carved wooden box in unison.
“It’s got an arrow carved into it,” Clarissa noted. “And a bow. Perhaps that’s significant, although I don’t see any archery targets in here. Yet.”
I carefully examined the box mechanism. It had a hinged lid held shut by a latch and, of course, the combination lock.
Alessa peered over my shoulder. “The lock has numbers, letters, and symbols, depending on which digit you spin. The first two-digit columns have letters, the third one has numbers, the fourth one has symbols, and the last four have all letters. Weird.”
I gently turned the first digit of the lock with letters on it. The letters were not sequential and contained only five letters: B, K, N, Q, and R. The second column had the letters A through H in sequential order. The third digit had numbers sequentially listed one through eight, and the fourth had: +, #, !, ?, and 0-0. A quick examination of the final four-digit columns indicated they were duplicates of the first four.
I pushed and pulled on the carvings and corners, hoping to find another way to open the lid. I half hoped I’d get lucky and find a hidden panel or drawer but found nothing. I also tried to lift the lid from the hinge side without success. I tried a few random combinations, but nothing happened.
“Slash, check this out,” Clarissa called. She stood on the scale and held a piece of paper between her fingers. “You’d think that if they’d spent money to put a scale like this on an island, it would at least work.”
“It didn’t weigh you?” Winston asked.
She waggled the piece of paper between her fingers and shook her head. “Oh, it weighed me, all right, but instead of confirming my weight on this paper, which I would have had to burn, it just says ‘three.’” She stepped off the scale and brought the paper to me.
I examined it. Sure enough, it had one number—three—and nothing else on either side.
Meanwhile, Mia hopped up on the scale. “Hey, it weighed me correctly, too, but I got a piece of paper that says ‘two.’ What does that mean?”
I thought for a moment. “Clarissa, can you get back on the scale again?”
She obliged, but nothing happened. “It weighed me correctly, but it isn’t giving me another piece of paper. How odd.”
I approached the scale and stood on it. The needle moved until it accurately displayed my weight. A small piece of paper popped out with the number six on it. Clearly, we were each being assigned a number, possibly by our weight. But why?
“Everyone, examine the puzzle tables more thoroughly,” I said. “Gio, come with me.” I walked over to the carnival panel and looked between it and the chairs.
“It’s a shooting gallery,” I said. “You sit in a chair and fire at targets that presumably appear from behind the doors. But there doesn’t appear to be any way to start the game.”
Gio removed one of the guns and gave the holster a closer look. “There’s a small slit next to the holster, but it is too thin for a coin, even if we had any, which we don’t.” He plopped into one of the chairs, holding the plastic gun in his hands. “You know, this kind of feels like one of those blasters you might find in a laser tag game.” He pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.
“We need to figure out how to start the game,” I said.
I surveyed the room again. Mia and Clarissa stood near the Scrabble board table, Winston had migrated to the chessboard, and Alessa examined the jigsaw puzzle.
“This is strange,” Winston said. “This chess game is already well underway. In fact, it’s nearly finished. Can you check this out, Slash?”
As I walked toward Winston, Mia reached out to touch one of the tiles on the Scrabble-like puzzle. Clarissa quickly rebuked her. “Don’t touch anything yet, Mia. As Slash cautioned us, we shouldn’t move things until we understand what we’re doing. Otherwise, we might lose a clue.”
Clarissa glanced at me for affirmation, and I nodded my head, tipping an imaginary hat to her. That garnered me a dazzling smile as I joined her husband, my father-in-law, at the chessboard.
“Look at this,” Winston said, pointing at the board. “The game is almost over. The setup resembles one of the typical chess puzzles such as white or black checkmates in a fixed number of moves.”
I studied it, agreeing with him. “Can you solve it?”
“Probably, with a little time. But it will be tricky not knowing whose move it is or what the puzzle-solving outcome is.”
“It’s white’s move,” I said. “The chess timer is pressed down on black’s side. That means white’s on the clock.”
My father-in-law looked up at me in surprise, or maybe grudging admiration. “That’s a pretty clever way of letting us know,” he said.
“It is. I think it’s time to solve these puzzles. Winston, see how many ways you can come to checkmate. Alessa, Mia, and Clarissa, I’d like the three of you to work on the jigsaw puzzle, since I have a hunch the chess game and the puzzle are related. Gio, you check out the scale, and I’m going to take another look at the shooting gallery. Let’s leave the Scrabble-style game alone for now. I suspect those remaining tiles are going to mean something to us at some point.”
“What about the balloons?” Mia asked, pointing to the ceiling.
“They’re too high to worry about right now,” I said. “We’ll have to deal with them later.”
I glanced at the clock, noting thirty minutes had already passed and we hadn’t solved a single puzzle. Still, it wasn’t time wasted. I’d already begun to get a feel for the style and patterns Mr. Zachetti enjoyed using. Understanding what we were working with before we started was an essential piece of solving the overall puzzle.
I went straight to the garish panel with the small doors, the carnival music already grating on my nerves. I tuned the music out and focused on the panel. The mini doors were closed tight and surrounded by small lightbulbs. No matter how hard I slid, pushed, or pulled on the doors, they wouldn’t budge. On closer inspection, I noticed a rectangular display bar beneath the panel that could light up or display a digital message. Next to that was a small slot about the size of a credit card.
Interesting.
I turned to focus on the six chairs. They appeared identical, with a metal attachment on the right side that holstered the gun. On closer inspection, I saw the tiny, thin slot next to the holster that Gio had mentioned. The slot was in a location where one would typically insert a coin to start the game. I ran my finger gently across the slot. Gio was right—a coin would never fit. If we needed to start the game by putting something in that slot, we’d have to find something extremely thin.
I now focused on the plastic gun. It was held to the chair by a cable that was about four feet long and attached to the butt of the pistol and the base of the chair.
I sat down in a chair and felt it sink slightly. Curious, I pulled out the pistol attached to the chair and pointed it at one of the doors. I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. I tried sitting in each of the chairs and doing the same thing with zero results.
But I felt as if I was on the verge of something.
“Hey, I’m number one,” Gio called from the scale. “And by the way, I examined every inch of this scale. It seems to be in working order and correctly measured my weight. But like the others, I got a number instead of my weight on this paper.” He held up the same-size slip of paper Clarissa and Mia had received between his fingers.
I had a sudden inspiration. I stood up and dug into my pocket, pulling out the slip of paper I’d received from the scale. I tried to slide the paper into the slot on the first chair. It was precisely the right size, but it wouldn’t go in. I tried all the other chairs with the same results.
No go.
Frustrated by my lack of progress, I plopped into one of the chairs. I felt the chair sink slightly. On a whim, I leaned over and tried to slip the paper into the slot again. This time there was a slight whirring sound before the chair sucked the paper from my fingers. There was a pause, but instead of the game starting, the paper was rejected.
“I think I’m on to something,” I said.
I moved to the chair on my right and tried again. This time, when the paper got sucked in, a small blue light on the side of the gun and the shooting gallery panel lit up.
“Look at that,” Gio shouted. “It worked!”
A digital message appeared on the rectangular bar beneath the panel—Shoot Here to Start Game. An arrow pointed to a small button at the end of the light bar. Elated, I pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. A second later, a message appeared stating the game would start in three, two, one.
“Game on,” I murmured. “Bring it.”