“I’m not comfortable with this.…” He emphasized this by moving his hands in circles like he was clearing two spots on a foggy window. “This … public speaking. I apologize, but I need to read the rest of what I’ve prepared.”
He opened the envelope he held and with a shaking hand removed a typed piece of paper. Watching Errol Roy reminded Emily of being in the third grade, when she’d had to present her oral report on Laura Ingalls Wilder to the class in costume, one week after she’d moved to South Dakota. She felt sympathy for Roy.
“A mystery has been laid out for you tonight, told in the form of puzzles,” Errol Roy read. “Four puzzles make up the solution you seek. Some puzzles are red herrings. Use your wits to determine which puzzles deserve your attention and which can be ignored. You are free to work alone, in pairs, teams, however you’d like. As an extra incentive, if someone is able to uncover the solution by eight p.m., I will donate one hundred thousand dollars to Hollister’s bookstore.”
Gasps erupted from the crowd, including from Emily and James, who exchanged incredulous looks with each other. Hollister himself must not have known this until just now. He staggered backward playfully, then jogged to Errol Roy and swung an arm around his shoulders. The bookseller leaned to the mic and said, “What are we standing around here for? Let’s find those puzz—”
Sirens cut him off mid-sentence. Emily’s hands flew up to her ears. Why were so many things going wrong today? Lights flashed, and the sound of metal locks clamping shut thundered across the room. People shrieked and shouted out questions.
“What’s going on?”
“Is this part of the game?”
“Mr. Griswold, explain yourself!”
CHAPTER
19
OVER A LOUDSPEAKER a monotone woman’s voice intoned, “A prisoner has escaped Alcatraz. Lockdown has been initiated. Repeat: A prisoner has escaped his cell. Lockdown has been initiated.”
The panic subdued to nervous laughter and the crowd refocused on the author. Errol Roy mopped his brow again with his handkerchief. He really didn’t look well, Emily thought, like maybe somebody should bring him a chair to sit in.
“This is where your mystery begins,” Roy said. “Identify the escaped prisoner by solving the correct puzzles. After I read your first clue, the game will start.”
Roy folded up the letter-sized paper he had read from and tried to slide it back into the envelope, but because of his shaking hands it took him several attempts. Emily felt like she was watching the slow unwrapping of a gift as she waited to hear the first clue. Finally, Errol Roy reached into his pocket and withdrew an index card.
He read aloud: “‘I know your secret.’”
Hums of speculation spread throughout the audience as the couples and groups considered what that first clue could mean.
“Are we supposed to start?” Nisha asked.
“How is that a clue?” Maddie said.
“Maybe we should talk to one of the prisoners or guards,” James suggested. “Mr. Griswold said the actors are here to help.”
Emily hadn’t stopped watching Errol Roy, who was still looking at the first clue card. He dropped it to the floor like he’d been burned and turned to Mr. Griswold. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Mr. Griswold’s smile disappeared. “No, I…” He looked questioningly to Hollister, who gave a slight shake of his head.
Errol Roy’s finger wavered over the discarded note. His voice was raised, and several contestants looked up from their discussions, uncertain if this was something they should listen to.
“That isn’t what it’s supposed to say,” Errol Roy said. “Did you switch my card?”
The audience stilled, everyone’s attention now fully back on the author. His face bloomed magenta. “I can’t be here right now. I need to go somewhere else.”
“Mr. Roy, please.” Mr. Griswold looked again to Hollister, who shrugged helplessly.
Roy walked to the edge of the platform and stepped down, right in front of Fiona, whose mother held up a phone, trying to take a selfie with him in the background.
“I told you he’d be here, Fiona,” Mrs. Duncan announced in her very loud voice.
Errol Roy stopped walking and turned slowly to face her. His movements vacuumed the room into silence. “How would you know that?” His low voice carried across the expansive cement box of a room.
Mrs. Duncan sputtered, “Well, I mean … it was announced!”
Errol Roy stepped closer. “Did you leave that note?”
“I…” Flummoxed, the woman lifted her phone. “I was only taking a picture. I’m a fan.”
Errol Roy glanced briefly at her screen and winced. “Delete that,” he said, and stalked out of the dining hall.
“Mr. Roy!” Mr. Griswold hurried after him, calling over his shoulder, “Hollister, can you take over for me?”
Jack entered the room, a backpack in hand, and looked on, bewildered, as Errol Roy marched past, followed by Mr. Griswold.
“He found it!” Maddie crowed, and went to retrieve her backpack.
“What do we do now?” Nisha asked. “That couldn’t have been part of the game, right?”
“I don’t think so,” James said uncertainly. He frowned at the wake of his literary hero.
The contestants were buzzing with confusion over what to do. What an odd start to the event, Emily thought. The tram accident and now this mix-up with Errol Roy’s clue, and the author himself didn’t seem to want to be here.
Hollister stood alone on the stage. He scooped up the notecard Mr. Roy had dropped and slipped it into his own pocket, then stepped to the microphone. “Well,” he said. “That was unexpected.”
Nervous titters spread throughout the crowd.
A woman raised her hand but spoke before Hollister could call on her. “Does this mean the game is canceled?”
“Yeah,” someone else said. “Do we still get the gift cards?”
Hollister tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Of course the offer still stands for the gift cards. Simply bring your entry ticket to my store Sunday. As for the game, I’m, uh, not sure how … uh, let’s give Mr. Griswold a minute here.”
Maddie returned wearing her backpack.
“Where was it?” Nisha asked, sliding her glasses up her nose.
“It was on the dock!” Maddie threw her hands in the air. “How is that even possible? You all saw me put it on the tram.” She slid one strap off and held the bag to her front as she rifled through her belongings.
“Maybe it fell off when the tram started to move,” Nisha suggested.
“And none of us noticed?” Maddie said. She tugged the zipper closed. “Whatever. I have it back and nothing’s missing.”
“All the more reason to think it wasn’t stolen,” James said.
“Well, I didn’t leave it behind.”
“You two like to argue, don’t you?” Matthew observed.
“It’s their thing,” Nisha said.
In unison Maddie and James said, “It is not our thing!”
Nisha gave Matthew a See? I told you look.
Mr. Griswold stepped back in the dining room, caught Hollister’s eye, and rolled his hand in a keep going gesture. Hollister spoke into the microphone but directed his question to Mr. Griswold. “The game? We still on?”
Mr. Griswold nodded and disappeared back into the hallway. Hollister’s face split into a smile, although Emily thought it looked a little stretched tight.
“All right, folks! The game’s still on.”
“How do we get started?” someone called out.
“Yeah,” someone else piped up. “Errol Roy said he was reading the first clue, but then that wasn’t it.”
“Oh. Well.” Hollister pulled the notecard from his pocket and glanced at it quickly before putting it back. “What I know is this: There are puzzles all around the cell house. Wherever you’re allowed access, it’s likely you’ll find one. Some of them are obvious; some of them are not. And lik
e Mr. Roy said, not all of them will be relevant to the solution. I don’t know what the first clue was supposed to say, but I do know there are at least three puzzles—or parts of a puzzle—in this very room right now. Hopefully that’s enough to get you started.”
Hollister hadn’t even stopped talking before the dining hall started churning like a blender on low, everyone eager to begin. All the different voices echoed off the cinder-block walls and high ceilings.
The actors in the room playing prisoners and guards, and the Alcatraz park rangers, were swarmed with contestants wanting to ask them questions, hoping for the hints and clues Mr. Griswold had said they had to offer. A line formed at the food service in the back as well.
“What’s our plan?” Nisha’s sketchbook was flipped to a blank page and her marker was poised and ready. She looked to Emily, who looked to James, who looked to Matthew, who was checking the time on a clock hung next to a window.
“The plan is to look for puzzles, duh,” Maddie replied. To Emily and James she asked, “Are you two absolutely positive you don’t know anything about how this is supposed to work? Like if it’s worth waiting in one of those lines to talk to a prisoner, or how we even find the puzzles or tell which ones are part of Mr. Roy’s solution?”
“For the millionth time, no,” James said. “Mr. Griswold hasn’t told us anything at all.”
“Maybe we should start in a different room,” Nisha said. “Somewhere nobody is looking.”
“I agree,” Matthew spoke up. “If you follow what everyone else is doing, you’ll always come in behind. Have any of you noticed that the clock—”
“But we know there are three puzzles in this room,” Emily interjected. Her brother frowned, she assumed because she was disagreeing with him, but she continued with what she wanted to say. “We might waste time wandering aimlessly, when we could find and solve something right here.”
“We don’t even know what to look for,” Maddie complained. “A ‘puzzle’ could be all sorts of things. It’s not like Mr. Griswold laid out jigsaw puzzles to solve.”
“I found one!” a voice called across the room, and the slowly churning blender turned on high as everyone ran toward a table in the corner, which quickly became surrounded. Emily and her friends ended up on the outskirts.
“See?” Matthew said. “This is what happens to followers.”
“We’re here. We might as well see what the fuss is about.” Nisha slid her backpack to the floor and thrust her notebook toward James. “Hold this. I’m small; I’m going in.”
Before anyone could stop her, she dove under the armpits of the people in front of them and disappeared.
“Can you see anything?” Emily asked her brother, the tallest in their group.
“No. Get on my shoulders.” Matthew stooped down.
“You’ll drop me.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Geez, you don’t trust me to do anything, do you?”
His words stung, and to prove him wrong, Emily flung one leg over his shoulder. James and Maddie helped balance her, and Matthew rose slowly.
“What do you see?” James said.
“Can you tell what it is?” Maddie asked.
“People are looking at something on the table. It’s…” A view opened up, and Emily giggled when she realized what the group was working on.
“You can let me down,” she said.
“What? What’s so funny?” Her friends repeated the questions over one another.
Before Emily could reply, Nisha popped back out of the crowd. “It’s a jigsaw puzzle,” she announced.
Maddie groaned. “Are you kidding me? He really did lay out jigsaw puzzles?”
“One, at least,” Emily said, nodding to confirm Nisha’s report.
“A jigsaw puzzle can take a long time to put together,” Matthew said.
“Not to mention we can’t even get to it,” James added.
“And we don’t know if it’s one of the four puzzles Errol Roy said we’d need to find for the solution,” Maddie said. “Matthew’s right. We need to start somewhere else.” She nudged Emily. “You’re the Book Scavenger brains of our group. Where do you think we should start?”
“Well, maybe we could…” The truth was that Emily had no idea. She might know Book Scavenger well, and Mr. Griswold might have created both that game and this one, but she felt totally at a loss for what to do next. On Book Scavenger it was clear: There was a map, you picked either a book you wanted to find or a location near you with a hidden book, the clue was then provided, you solved it, and bam! A simple series of steps to follow.
But with Unlock the Rock there were no steps outlined for them. All she knew—all anyone knew—was that the goal involved finding an escaped prisoner using four puzzles hidden somewhere on Alcatraz.
“I know where we can start,” Matthew said. “I found another puzzle.”
CHAPTER
20
“HAVE ANY OF YOU noticed the clock in this room isn’t working?” Matthew asked.
Everyone turned and Matthew hissed, “Don’t all look at once or you’ll tip everyone else off!”
“The one outside the dining hall wasn’t working, either,” Emily remembered.
Matthew nodded. “It was stopped at two forty and this one is stopped at eight twenty. It might be a coincidence, but if we find another clock and it’s also stopped, then maybe—”
“They’re part of a coded message?” James said.
Emily was simultaneously impressed with her brother and disappointed in herself for missing what he’d noticed. When Matthew had pointed out that first broken clock, she hadn’t considered it to be anything more than what it appeared.
“Let’s go on a clock hunt!” James said.
“I’ll keep track of the different times,” Nisha volunteered, holding her sketchbook in the crook of her arm.
“Write down the location for each one,” Maddie said, “in case the numbers need to be put in a certain order.”
They made their way to the dining hall exit, keeping an eye out for more clocks as they went. Emily noticed people subtly (and not so subtly) nudging one another as she and her friends passed. When they had been listening to Mr. Griswold and Errol Roy explain how Unlock the Rock would be played, Emily had felt for a moment like a regular player in a regular game. She loved being in that mind-set of narrowed concentration on a task and thinking about game strategy. She’d forgotten all about the threatening notes that had been tucked into her locker and backpack, and the gossip on the Book Scavenger forums that pegged her as the player to beat. Knowing that someone in this crowd wanted her out of the game was worrying, but it annoyed her, too.
What kind of person would want to win a game by intimidating a competitor out of playing? How satisfying would it actually be to win that way? It seemed like winning by default, to Emily. You’d always know deep down you didn’t deserve it, even if you pretended otherwise. It would be like flipping to the back of a puzzle magazine for the answer before you’d even given the puzzle a chance.
It especially bothered her that she’d let the person’s scare tactics chip away at her own confidence. Not to mention, if a competitor fixated on Emily and her friends, assuming they had an advantage, there were other contestants who’d fly under their radar. Contestants who might be even better competitors, like Mr. Quisling, Miss Linden, Bookacuda, and plenty more people at this event.
“There’s another clock.” Nisha quietly indicated one hanging just before the exit to the dining hall and next to an old, peeling staircase that was roped off. This clock also wasn’t working, and it looked brand-new and very out-of-place, which made it seem likely Matthew was onto something.
“What about up here?” James asked, leaning into the staircase to look up. A cord ran from the rusted pipe handrail to the opposing wall, dangling a sign that said AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. A woman wearing the SECURITY jacket approached them.
“That upstairs area isn’t part of the game,” she said, so t
hey left the dining hall and continued their hunt for more clocks.
The main area of the prison had four blocks of cells. Emily and her friends wanted to do a thorough check, so they ran to one end to start. They walked through a doorway with a sign overhead that said D-BLOCK, and it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees. D-Block was a long room with three tiers of jail cells facing a wall of windows that looked out to the water. From here the view was misty and gray, with bits of the San Francisco skyline visible in the distance.
The towering wall of cages was a lot to take in, and for a moment they all stood silently. At the opposite end of the long room, a park ranger’s voice echoed in the lofty space. He seemed to be talking to himself about Alcatraz history.
“… this segregation unit was used for prisoners with behavioral problems. One of Alcatraz’s most infamous and vicious inmates, the Birdman, spent much of his time in this section, segregated from the other prisoners.…”
There were no actors in these cells, and Emily stared up at the empty rows of small rooms, trying to imagine having to live in one day after day. Did that experience help the prisoners who had behavioral problems get better, or not? she wondered.
“No blinds on the windows? It’d be miserable to sleep in here,” Matthew said. “Not to mention freezing.” He tucked his fists under his armpits.
“The prisoners had a nice view on a clear day,” James pointed out.
“Is that better or worse,” Nisha pondered, “to constantly see a beautiful outside world, but know you can’t participate in it?”
“Worse,” Maddie said. “You’re always reminded of what you don’t have.”
“I think it’d be better,” Nisha said, “like a real-life vision board. It would help me stay hopeful that I’d be out there again someday.”
Footsteps thundered into the room, and Emily and her friends whirled around to find three kids skidding to a stop.
“Did you find something, Surly Wombat?” one of them asked, looking from Emily to James and back. The other two giggled.
The Alcatraz Escape Page 9
