"Me, either," said Aaron. "I don't think they're watching."
"You hope," said Kayla.
Rob's fists balled in frustration as he looked around. There was a closet door, hanging half-open nearby, but he didn't bother going in there. Whatever was triggering them would be out in the open, something they'd have to interact with somehow.
He took a step toward the air hockey table.
"Wait," Aaron said. Now it was Rob's turn to halt mid-step, bouncing lightly on his toes, ready to move – to run – at any moment.
Aaron was on the side of the air hockey table that faced the TV and game consoles. There were a few folding chairs stacked against the wall, and for a moment Rob thought the other man was looking at them.
Something hidden there?
Then Aaron crouched and Rob saw he was staring at the game consoles in the cabinet. Red power lights gleamed on the faces of each, cyclopean eyes glaring out from their cage of glass.
Aaron frowned. He drew something from his pocket. It was a cylinder, about six inches long and an inch in diameter. Aaron pressed a button on top, and a whiff of mist puffed out.
Red lines appeared in the mist. Laser tripwires stretched like silken strands from the red eyes of the game consoles that weren't really consoles at all, but security measures.
The red lines were staggered so they couldn't be simply stepped over – stepping over one would put you right in the path of another beam, tripping whatever mechanism was in place.
Aaron had been only an inch or two from the first laser beam when Rob told him to stop.
I saved your wife, now I've saved you. You owe me another one.
And someday… someday it's all gonna come due.
"Clever," said Rob. "Where's the refractor?"
Aaron stood. He turned away from the consoles, looking at the wall opposite. He aimed his flashlight there, a frown on his face. Then said, "There."
Rob looked. For a moment he saw only wall. Then Aaron waved his light and he saw a few spots – each corresponding to a laser tripwire – flash. Not wall, but tiny, nearly perfectly-hidden mirrors that would bounce the lasers back to one or more receptors. Anything breaking the beams would set off the countdown.
Aaron put his flashlight in his pocket, then started to climb onto the air hockey table.
"Wait!" Kayla shouted.
The sound almost surprised Aaron right off the table. He jerked and his leg slipped over the side. Headed right for the spot where Rob knew the first laser beam – now invisible since Aaron's mist had already dissipated – passed.
Aaron jerked himself to a halt, freezing half-on and half-off the table. No one moved. Waiting for the countdown.
It didn't come.
Aaron pulled himself fully onto the table, then swiveled his head to look at Kayla.
"Dammit, Kay, what the –"
"What are we doing?" she broke in.
Aaron shook his head. "Hopefully finding out what we have to do next without starting the timer. Giving us a bit more time. Now… will you please shut the hell up?"
Kay looked like she was going to argue the point, then she nodded. Not cowed, just choosing to be quiet for now.
It was actually the first time Rob had ever seen Aaron stand up to anyone.
So you have a pair after all. Good to know.
Aaron crawled over the surface of the air hockey table. Rob held his breath, not sure what he was expecting, only that he was expecting something – and that it would be something bad.
The hockey table popped under Aaron's hands at one point – the plastic tabletop not really designed to take a grown man's entire weight. Aaron went rigid, and Rob heard Kayla gasp.
Nothing happened. After a moment, Aaron kept moving forward. Past the points where the beams should be passing under the table. Home free.
Rob exhaled explosively. Aaron looked back at him and threw an exhausted thumbs-up. But the half-smile on his face disappeared as fast as it came.
Rob looked at what Aaron had seen.
The closet.
The half-open closet.
Now the all-the-way-open closet.
And a form, lurching out of it, straight at Kayla.
34
Aaron felt strangely vulnerable. Not just because he was stuck on a table directly over a laser net designed to catch them all in a deadly trap. Part of it was just seeing something tumble out of the closet, heading straight for Kayla. A smaller repeat of the helplessness he had suffered while watching Dee waste away.
He glimpsed another form, still standing in the closet. Something moving behind her.
A door. A hidden door sliding shut. How many places like that are there? They could come from anywhere, could attack us from anywhere.
He thought it was Happyface rushing out of the closet, Sadface still inside the dark space. But that was only the fear of an overwrought mind. It wasn't their tormentors, it was… a kid. A teen, maybe someone in his early twenties. He was dressed in pants, no shirt.
The kid stood for a moment in the doorway of the closet. Rob said, "Who are you?" Aaron looked at Rob when he said it, and saw his eyes widen an instant later. Something strange in his eyes. Something that looked like… recognition?
He knows him? Knows the kid?
The kid looked back at him with no recognition whatever in his eyes. "Who are you?" he answered. Whatever relationship that might exist between Rob and the kid looked like a strictly one-way affair.
What do Sadface and Happyface mean by this?
That this was something planned by the two he had no doubt. Nothing in this night had happened by chance. He just had to figure out what it all meant, and hope that would give him a better chance of getting back to Dee.
The form in the closet stepped out. It was the girl from the room – the daughter. She was still dressed in her tank top and boxers, her dark hair disheveled and black circles under haunted eyes. There was a bright red circle around her neck where the noose had cut into her skin.
"You," said Rob. He rushed at her, knife flashing in his hands. "What's going on, what's –"
"Hey!" The kid managed to get between Rob and the Crawford girl, but only for a moment. Rob tossed him away, slamming him against the back wall.
"Wait!" Aaron saw it unfolding with mounting horror; knew this was part of it, too. The kid and the girl had appeared for a reason, and no doubt Rob's response was playing into it.
No matter what we do, we're doing what they want us to.
The thought brought hopelessness. He tried to push it away. Partially succeeded.
He almost jumped off the air hockey table, which would have put him in the center of the lasers, probably breaking one of them and starting the countdown.
"Wait!" he shouted again.
Kayla grabbed the kid with her good hand as he tried to go to the teenage girl's aid. Even one-handed she was a fury, raging against the boy, slamming his face, his ears, his neck with her good hand.
"Don't you move! Don't you move!" she screamed, spittle flying visibly from her mouth, spattering the kid.
Rob had his knife pressed against the Crawford girl's throat. "Who are you? What's going on here?" She didn't answer, shock the only thing in her gaze. "WHO ARE YOU?"
The girl's eyes focused. Just a bit, enough to look at Rob, though she still seemed to be gazing partly through him. "I can't believe they really did it," she breathed.
"Did what? Did what?"
He pressed on her throat with the knife, and now more red joined the angry welt on her neck. Blood welled around the point of his knife. Not deadly, but another quarter-inch of pressure could sever major blood vessels, and that would be the end.
The pain didn't seem to bother the girl. She didn't even seem to notice it. "My parents. They did it." Her eyes flitted around the room like she was afraid the walls would close in.
Maybe they will.
"DID WHAT?" screamed Rob.
Kayla had been struggling with the kid the whole time. H
e would take a step toward the girl, Kayla would drive him back with a series of terror-infused punches and body blocks. But when Rob screamed that last, she looked away from the boy. Just for a moment, her eyes flitting toward Rob.
It was enough. The kid's muscles visibly hardened as he brought all his strength to bear and slammed a hard fist into the side of her head.
Kayla reeled back in pain, her eyes spinning wildly in their sockets as the hit dazed her. She took a few mad, stumbling steps backward…
… "NO!" Aaron screamed…
… and right into the space where the laser tripwires spun their deadly web.
Lights flashed on each of the walls.
2:00….
Rob saw it. He wheeled away from the girl for a moment, kicking the kid's legs out from under him, then unloading a vicious kick to the kid's stomach that curled him into a fetal position, coughing and retching. The actions spoke eloquently of Rob's fear.
He spun back to the girl. His knife went back to her throat so quickly it was as though it had never left.
"How do we get out of here?"
The girl shook her head, her gaze again lost somewhere far away. "Follow… follow the maps. Get to the door. The front door. Front door. Front door…."
She kept repeating "Front door," her mind lost in a mad litany, a prayer and a hope and a denial wrapped in one.
Rob, disgusted, looked at Aaron. "What's the map say?"
Aaron crawled the rest of the way –
(Why bother? It's not like I can trip the countdown again.)
– across the air hockey table and grabbed the card before hopping off.
1:50….
Just as with the others, there was a piece of photo inside. Just as with the others, it was a wash of reds and grays impossible to understand. The back had a "7" on it.
The card also had another message.
there is always madness in love
Beneath the photo, another map. An outline of the room with a green spot on one side. It corresponded to a door beside the couch. A door that would lead to –
"The bathroom!" Aaron shouted.
The door was closed. He wondered how hard it would be to get through.
"Come on!" he shouted. Rob and Kayla moved quickly toward the door. The kid and the Crawford girl just stared at them, not sure what was going on. Then the kid grabbed the girl. Dragged her toward the hall door.
Aaron knew what would happen. Not the details, only that touching that door would involve pain. Death.
"No!" he shouted, and at the same moment the Crawford girl reared back and screamed, "Don't touch it!" but the kid was already reaching for the door.
He touched the knob.
There was a crackle. The potent whiff of ozone.
And the kid began to dance.
His teeth slammed together so hard that blood flowed around his lips, which locked in a terrifying grimace.
The girl moved to help him….
(and all the while the countdown keeps going, keeps getting lower, the numbers point to our death)
… reached out.
Any electrocution powerful enough to lock someone's entire body into a single clenched muscle would be enough to kill it in seconds.
And would be enough to catch anyone who touched the kid in its embrace.
"No!" Aaron screamed at the girl. Her hand stopped only an inch from the kid. "Don't touch him!"
The girl looked from her boyfriend to Aaron. "He's dying! Help him!"
Aaron flew at the kid, looking desperately for anything he might use to knock the kid away from the knob that had his fingers locked around it.
His eyes settled on the air hockey table. The paddles. He put the paddles against him, jamming them against his chest so they would be between him and the teen, then ran at the kid like he was a hockey player going for a full-body check.
Hope this works.
He hit the teen with everything he had. There was another crackle as the teen flew to the side, knocked loose. Aaron almost pitched headfirst into the same knob that had trapped the kid. He leaned wildly to the side. Bounced off the door. Landing in a heap beside the kid.
The kid was rocking back and forth, his good hand going first to the wrist of his bad hand, clenching it as though he might be able to cut off the flow of pain from his hand to his brain; then clutching at his side where Aaron had hit him as though unsure which pain was worse.
Aaron looked at the countdown.
1:00….
He got to his knees, reaching out to help the kid rise with him. The kid screamed in pain, doubled over –
"Leave him!" Rob shouted. "Get over here and help us!"
Aaron, for the first time in his life, completely ignored Rob. He helped the kid over to the bathroom door, the Crawford girl close behind.
Once he got to where Rob and Kayla were standing, he helped the kid slide to the floor again. The Crawford girl knelt beside him, cradling his head in her arms.
Rob and Kayla were shoving madly at the door. Straining at it, slamming into it. Nothing worked.
"How do we get out of here?" he asked the girl.
She looked dully at Rob and Kayla as they pushed, pushed, to no avail.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
Aaron searched her face. Believed her.
She's as much a victim of this as we are.
He went to Kayla and Rob. Helped them slam into the door, over and over.
In the middle of the third hit –
(0:32….
0:31….)
– a voice floated into the room. It was deep. Clearly male, but mechanized somehow.
Happyface.
"Try pulling," said the voice.
They all turned to the sound. And saw him.
Happyface looked in through a window that had appeared in the face of the doorway that led to the hall. It hadn't been there a second ago, Aaron was sure of it.
Hidden passages, hidden traps. Why not hidden windows?
Happyface waved at them. Then spoke again, that altered voice grating against the pain centers in Aaron's mind. "I could just let the time run out and watch you all die, but… there's still so much fun to be had." He waited a moment as they all watched him, stunned. "I'd move quickly," he finally said.
Still no one moved for a moment. "Why are you doing this?" Kayla said.
"You only have a few seconds left."
0:09….
Rob pulled at the door with a terrified scream. Clearly not sure whether to be more afraid of what was coming behind, or what waited for them ahead.
The door opened easily at his pull –
(aren't we just a bunch of geniuses?)
– then Rob rushed through the door. First one out. Again.
Everyone else piled through on his heels. Even the kid and the girl – the kid's eyes shining with pain, the girl mumbling disbelieving words to herself – followed.
They were barely through, into the bathroom beyond the wall, when Aaron heard a high-pitched whistle, followed by the whoosh of gas igniting. He pulled the door shut behind them.
The unmistakable sound of flame could be heard through the door. The crackle of an entire room being incinerated.
Everyone was still huddled against the door, as though afraid to take a single step further into the room. They all looked at one another.
Aaron's gaze moved to the door that led to the hall. Knowing it had to be a trap.
Then Kayla grabbed the teen girl in their midst. She yanked her toward the sink, slamming her so hard against the marble counter that the teen's head kept going and shattered the mirror on the wall.
Kayla let go of the girl, scooping up a long, thin triangle of glass that had fallen away from the mirror frame and into the sink. She hung the point in front of the younger girl's left eye.
"You got three seconds to talk before I start cutting," she said.
No one moved. Aaron and the younger man held their breaths, both of them afraid to move fo
r fear of what Kayla would do next.
Rob seemed at ease – as at ease as possible given the circumstances – and folded his arms against his chest.
"It's… it's a game," the girl managed. "My parents joked about it." Her gaze went somewhere else. A memory or a nightmare. "They joked," she whispered.
"How do we get out of here?" said Kayla.
"I don't know. I just don't…." The girl dissolved into sobs. Kayla looked like she might just cut the girl to pieces, then threw down the glass in disgust. It broke against the floor.
The young man moved – stiffly and painfully – to the girl. He checked the back of her head, then cradled her against his chest.
"Who are you? All of you?" he said
Rob pursed his lips, and again a strange look crossed his expression. "People in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like you." He paused, then added, "You the boyfriend?" The kid nodded. "You know what's going on?"
The kid shook his head. "No clue."
"Sonofa…." Rob's voice drifted away.
"What is it?" Aaron said.
Rob aimed his flashlight at the toilet. In that instant, a noise had been with them the entire time they were in the room finally registered in Aaron's mind. Cloaked by the sound of flames in the game room, the mayhem-sounds Kayla had caused. But now he heard it. Looked toward it.
Water was coming from the toilet bowl, streaming over the lip.
"Think it's just a plumbing problem?" he said.
Rob snorted. At that instant, the burbling rose in volume. The toilet seat – which was down – began to flip up then slap down as the increasing water pressure below caused it to dance.
Aaron swung his own light around. Back and forth in the bathroom, seeing….
"Uhh…."
"What is it?" said Kayla.
"There's no clue in here. No way to start the timer."
"That sounds like a good thing," said the kid, still holding the girl. "Is that a good thing?"
They all looked at the girl. She shrunk under their combined stares.
"I don't know what happens next," she said. "My parents joked that this was their funhouse. That's what they called it. They joked about setting traps. About killing…. I didn't understand. It was a joke. I thought it was a joke."
The House That Death Built Page 16
