by David Clark
“Just a few minutes before I woke you all. When I woke up, it was still dark and silent, except for the machinery that Doug heard earlier, then suddenly the light came on.”
“I want to look outside.” Doug bent down to look through a slit in the floor. He pressed his face as flat against the floor as he could; staying there for several seconds until he sat up, rubbing his eye.
“Well Doug, what did you see?”
“The light’s too bright. I couldn’t see anything.”
“Let me try the wall.” Robert cupped his hand over one of the holes in the wall and pressed his right eye against his hands. He thought he saw something a foot away but couldn’t make out any details. He removed his hands and pressed his eye right up against the hole to see if he can make it out, but no such luck. “I see something just a foot away, but the light is too bright to make out the details.”
The rest of them replicated what Robert did, picking different holes and trying to see if any of them could see anything. Jill, Mary, and Kevin all pull back from the wall, rubbing their eyes which watered from the intense light. The only one who continued to try was Doug.
“Guys, this is weird. It looks like a bank of spotlights about ten feet away are pointing at us.” Doug picked the first row of holes to look through, but instead of looking at eye-level he got down on the floor and looked out the lowest one. “From this hole I can see the frame and the edge of the bottom light.”
The rest of them dropped to the floor to see what Doug saw, but the investigation was short lived. A voice they recognized echoed from above, “Sorry about that. Let’s try that again. Hello and welcome, I hope you are doing well.”
The occupants of the box exchanged a series of stunned looks. They all recognized the voice, it was Christopher, but now he had a British accent. Without even discussing it, all at once they kicked, banged, and screamed from within the box.
A plea came from outside the box, “Stop. Please Stop.” They ignored the plea, if anything the intensity and ferocity of the banging and screaming increased. This resulted in one more demand delivered in an ear-shattering volume and impact, “SILENCE!”
That got everyone’s attention. They stopped, startled by the sound and vibrations reverberating through the box and the air itself. Robert heard screaming in the distance for a split second and was not sure if it was an echo or the ringing in his ears. In the silence, bleeding in through the holes, Robert heard the faint sound of music and a recognizable murmur. In complete disbelief he asked himself, “Why would there be a crowd here?”
Robert started to mention the crowd when the speaker kicked in again. “Now that is better. Hello everyone and welcome. I hope you are ready for a day full of fun and games. Each of you have shown you love to play games in the digital world. That is great fun, but also limiting. There is no emotion, no primal stress and fight for survival. Your pulse does not quicken uncontrollably. No cold sweat forming on the back of your neck as you fear what is about to come around the corner. Nothing hangs in the balance other than maybe a little pride. Today all of that will change. You will become involved with the games. You will feel the panic and stress as you ponder how every move you make impacts your chance of survival. You will become the players in the game. There is no respawning and no reset button. All game outcomes are… well, final.”
“Oh, and it isn’t just for your enjoyment. Oh no, there is no fun in that! This is for all our enjoyment. What do you think; should we bring out our teams?”
Cheering? Robert heard screams and applause, so there was a crowd out there. What is this place and what are they in the middle of? The occupants of the box looked around at each other stunned at the sound of the cheering. They all thought they were there alone at Christopher’s house, but now find themselves in the middle of something that sounded like a large sporting event waiting for the teams to enter.
There was a low musical beat in the background that started as soon as Christopher stopped talking, the drum beat audible over the cheering of the crowd. The light that shone through the perforations in their enclosure disappeared, throwing them back in to darkness. Metal-on-metal grinding appeared outside their box. The sound stopped, and the front wall fell forward opening the box for the first time since Kevin closed the door hours ago. A series of spotlights focused on the front opening of the box. Instinctually they all used their hands to shield their eyes.
The voice, the one they used to know as Christopher, started up again on the loudspeaker using a condescending tone, “Come on out, don’t be shy.”
Not a soul moved. They stayed standing right where they were in the box, shielding their eyes from the spotlights. The thought of walking out of the box they are familiar with and out into a world they could not even see, was not at all attractive. Robert heard the crowd getting restless and starting to “boo” a little.
Kevin yelled from the back, “What the hell is that? Is there a crowd out there?”
Robert responded, “I think so. I thought I heard them earlier, but it sounds like it now.” Robert strained his eyes looking into the spot light, trying to look to either side to see if he can see the crowd, but the bright light blocked out everything and caused his eyes to water.
Their vision adjusted, but only if they looked down, Doug slid his foot forward, past the door, looking for footing to make sure he was not about to take a step off a cliff into an abyss. He felts a floor in front of him and took a step forward. He repeated this slide-step combination for the first few steps until he could see the floor clearer.
When Doug was the only outside the box, some verbal “encouragement” was offered to entice the others, “That is it, come on out. You guys come on out too, there is nothing to be afraid of, yet.”
Doug, Michelle, and Robert moved forward, but no one else did. Robert could see some features outside now. The lights were suspended from the ceiling on either side of the elevated platform. They were about twenty feet away and pointed straight at them blocking their view of anything beyond the lights. Where either Christopher or the crowd were seated was a mystery.
The platform was a five-foot-wide wooden floor suspended from the ceiling. It extended forward for as far as they could see. Black metal bars surrounded the entire platform, much like the ones you would find in a prison cell. You can tell the platform was hanging from the ceiling, like the lights, as each little movement produced a slight vibration in the platform; not enough to make you feel unsteady, but enough to detect.
Christopher’s echoing voice played to the crowd, “I think they need a little encouragement, don’t you?”
With the loud cheer from the crowd, Robert felt a vibration traveling through the platform. The vibration was not the crowd, it was too regular and mechanical for that. The vibration grew, the source was below them. Soon the sound of multiple machines starting up drowned out the cheering. They grew louder and were followed by several screams in various voices. The sounds of the machine stopped, but the painful screams and uncontrollable wailing continued. Robert looked around; it wasn’t them.
They all looked back and forth at each other with the same questions. Who was screaming and why? Before anyone could say anything to one another, the question of why was answered when the machines started up again, sending the vibration up through the floor of the platform; but now stronger than before. Then the unmistakable high-pitched screaming sound of not one but many circular saws kicked in as the front of edge of twelve-inch spinning saw blades pierce through the slits in the floor. There is a quick scream from the inside their box, followed by a mass of humanity running out of the box and pushing Robert, Michelle, and Doug down on the platform. Doug hits his head on one of the bars and Robert felt his shoulder ram into one at an uncomfortable angle. In severe pain, Robert fought to roll over and get up. He did so in just enough time to see the saw blades disappear beneath the floor. They were followed by one hundred eighteen-inch spinning sharp drill bits plunged into the box through the holes in the walls. There were no screa
ms this time, they were too stunned to scream as they laid there in a mass of humanity wedged between the walls of iron bars. No one was physically injured beyond a few bumps and bruises in the rush to escape the box of horrors.
“Oh good, everyone is out now.” A smattering of applause emerged from the darkness. “Shall we start our first game?” The applause exploded into a thunderous level of cheering and stomping that stormed in from the darkness and echoed in the rafters above them. The familiar voice masterfully played to the crowd until he received the response he wanted, “Oh come on. Are you ready?” The intensity of the cheering rose to a level where all the sounds merge into a single thunderous roar that consumed every object it came in contact with. After a few moments it died down, but not until Christopher finished milking it.
“I am sure you will recognize our first competition for the night. It was a childhood favorite of mine, I am sure it was one of yours. Let’s show our teams what their first task is.” The spotlights focused on the occupants of the box now danced around the ceiling and platform until finally landing on, and illuminating, a large structure hanging below them. The crowd went wild, like their favorite team had entered the stadium.
Michelle leaned close to Robert and asked, “Is that what I think it is?”
Robert did not recognize it when the spotlights first illuminated it but, when Michelle asked, it came into focus. It was absurd to believe what it was, but there was no other explanation.
In front of them, plexiglass panels created walls around the platform. The platform itself had three large holes cut in it. Ladders protruded through the holes leading down to two square structures made of steel I-beams. The structure frames out a grid of three rows and three columns. The squares made by the boxes are large enough for a person to stand in. The ladders were lined up with each of the three columns with plexiglass bridges linking the ladders to the back of the boxes on each row. Plexiglass panels sealed the front of the box. OSB planks bridged the gaps between the squares, creating the floors and walls for each of the boxes.
There was no mistaking it. It was the largest Tic-Tac-Toe board Robert had ever seen.
What had gone unnoticed, until Doug tapped Robert on the arm and pointed, was the second structure facing them with its own platform above it.
“There it is. What do you think everyone?” The crowd showed their approval with a modest round of applause. “Now the rules for our game. We follow the normal rules for Tic-Tac-Toe. We have two teams. Each team will alternate in taking turns. As you can tell though, unlike normal Tic-Tac-Toe, we are not using just one board. Oh no. We are using two boards; one for each team. When a team takes their turn, a player will climb down the ladder for their board and enter a square. Once sealed up in that square the corresponding square on the opposing teams board will close. Three in a row in any direction wins. If there is a tie, we start over and keep playing until we have a winner. Now that we have reviewed our rules, shall we invite our teams to approach their boards? Of course, come closer guys. We would hate for you to drop out before we all have fun.”
Robert whispered to himself, “there is another team”, then heard simultaneous crashes; one behind him and one in front of him. There was a quick rush from behind him. It pushed him, Michelle, and Doug forward. Robert looked back and saw the platform section that connected to the box had fallen away. They inched forward until they were all completely in the plexiglass enclosed section of the platform—and not a minute too soon—as another series of crashes, again behind him and off in the distance in front of him, sent the last remaining pieces of platform into the dark abyss below. Kevin took one final look behind where the platform used to hang from and then moved as far away from the edge as possible, crowding the others.
A sheet of plexiglass emerged up from the darkness below and pressed up against the platform and the walls creating a clear box around them. Only Kevin took notice of the new enclosure. The others saw the ghostly faces that appeared out of the darkness on the platform above the other game board.
They looked like they have been through a war. Each of them bloodied. Two members appeared to suffer severe injuries. One woman was kneeling, dripping blood while others try to apply pressure to several wounds in her shoulder and upper chest. The wound in her shoulder looks as if it went all the way to the bone. Pieces of flesh and muscle hung from it as if something ripped it off. Robert’s thoughts instantly went to the drills and the screams they heard in the distance earlier; she must have still been in the box when they plunged through the holes. The last was a white male in a business suit lying on the platform with blood pooled around him and running down the first ladder. Several members tended to his right leg which was severed just above the ankle. Robert couldn’t get over his appearance. His complexion was grey and empty. If he had to capture the picture of death, this is what it would be. He did not flail around or move. Instead he sat calmly, holding his severed foot in his right hand, while his team members worked to stop the bleeding and save his life. These images hammered home the severity of their condition, and for the first time Robert realized they are in a fight of life and death as a cold, sweaty panic overtook his soul.
“All right, there they are. Let’s get this started.” Christopher let out an exaggerated laugh before continuing. “Okay, all bets in. No more bets.” The crowd responded with a groan. Doug looked back at the group and while Robert could not hear his voice, he could see he mouthed, “They are taking bets on us?”
“Before the game I made a random selection of who would go first and let’s see… Doug that would be you guys. Your move first.”
Robert watched as Doug stood there and searched for the source of the voice. Unable to find it he stood up straight and announced as loud as he could, “We will not play, Christopher! Let us go.”
The voice provided a rebuttal, “Oh, yes you will.” There was a loud click above them followed by the sound of a large object slowly swinging from side to side. They looked up, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Each felt the ever so slight feel of a breeze from the swinging object blowing down on their face.
“That sound is your encouragement. Above each of the teams is a twenty-foot-long, sharp, swinging steel blade with a three-hundred-pound pendulum counterweight to keep it moving. That blade is sharp and heavy enough to cut clear through a fifteen-foot-wide hardwood tree. With every swing it lowers down a few inches. In about a minute, it will be down to inches above your heads. Another minute later it will be at about waist level and at the end of three minutes it will be on the platform. So, you do have a choice, but I wouldn’t think about it for too long. Your move Doug. Oh, and your team has to go in the order you are standing now.”
Doug stood there while the rest of his team felt the stress from the threat above. They screamed at him to move.
Mary yelled the loudest, “Doug, just go. If we play, we survive. Move! Now!”
Michelle gave him a quick shove from behind that sent him stumbling forward toward the ladders. He looked back at the group after regaining his balance. Breaking his protest, Doug picked the center ladder and climbed down to the center row. He stepped on the plexiglass bridge that connected the ladder with the center square and walked across into the square.
Christopher’s play-by-play commentary began, “The center square, a classic start.”
As soon as Doug’s feet hit the OSB floor of the center square, the clear walkway behind him hinged up and sealed him inside the square. The walkway on the corresponding square in the opposing team’s game board closed, blocking anyone from entering that square.
The first member of the opposing team, a middle aged, bald white male wearing denim shorts and a red t-shirt, wasted no time at all and hurried across the platform to the first ladder. He descended to the bottom square.
Before his square sealed him in, Michelle was on the move toward the last ladder. She went down the last ladder just one square to enter the top right corner square.
The n
ext to go for the other team was a petite mid-thirties Latino woman dressed for a night in the club, not a day climbing around on ladders. The blood of her teammates was splatted cross her sequined black dress. She was visibly shaken and upset and moved timidly toward the ladders. Robert saw her teammates yelling at her, but he could hear them. She made it to the last ladder on their grid and climbed down to the bottom square, blocking a potential win and end of the game for Robert’s team.
It was Robert’s turn now, and he wasted no time, motivated by the growing sound of the swinging object approaching them from above, he sprinted to the second ladder and climbed down as fast as he could to the bottom square; leaving the clear bridge with the thought of his team and the blade dominating his mind. He stepped into his square and heard the glass close behind him. He bent down to look up past the frame of his square to see his team. This vantage gave him a glimpse of them, now somewhat crouching down at the intimidating sound of the approaching blade. Even safely in his square he felt the stress of the others as if he were still up on the platform.
The other team was taking too long again. He banged on the glass and screamed, “Come On!” toward the other team, even though he knew no one could hear him. They had the same impending encounter approaching overhead, but this one person seemed to think they had all the time in the world to contemplate their next move. Robert saw her team going nuts. They screamed and gestured for her to move. All while they ducked down to avoid the object that inched closer above them. The stress of the situation appeared to have her confused at what to do as she shuffled a few steps and then paused, shuffled a few more and stopped.
Robert body tensed up watching her move slowly to the ladder of her choice. He felt like a bottled-up bomb ready to explode, but instead of exploding, the pressure released when she picked a ladder. The release was not entirely because she picked a ladder, but the one we picked. She made a mistake. He looked up at his team, now crouched below the blade that swung in and out of his view, and saw hope. Robert looked at the other team and saw disbelief. Each knelt down on the platform, some covered their eyes, and a few cried.
