by Jeanne Ryan
I look at the panels. Ian, who’s been reading his phone, does too. His eyes are haunted.
WE’LL KEEP OUR MOUTH SHUT IF YOU DO.
I stop chanting.
NOW THEN, EACH PLAYER MUST PICK UP THEIR GUN. ANYONE WHO DOESN’T CLAIM HIS OR HER GUN FORFEITS IT TO ANOTHER PLAYER OF OUR CHOOSING.
Micki picks hers up first. Everyone follows suit. Except me.
I clear my throat. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just drink beers and hang out. This could still end up okay.”
A crease forms between Ian’s eyes when he glances my way. “Take the gun, Vee.” Whoa, they must have even worse dirt on him than the crap they have on my family. Or did NERVE offer him another bonus? But what could be worth it? I wish I could get into his head and see what’s motivating him.
My own thoughts, focused on the shiny black weapon in front of me, send a shiver down my back. My mouth is dry. “This is crazy.”
His eyes travel to the others around the table. “Yeah, it is. But if you don’t claim it, you’ll be totally unarmed.”
Every breath I take threatens to turn into a wail that’ll never stop. I force myself to speak through quivering lips. “Not taking a gun could be safer than taking one. Even these guys wouldn’t shoot an unarmed person.”
Micki smacks her lips. “Of course not.”
YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO DECIDE.
Gayle’s voice whispers over the speakers, “Be smart, Vee.”
Too late for that.
A clock starts ticking down on the display. I gaze around the room. Micki and Ty caress their guns as if they’re pets. Even Samuel seems to hold the gun like he’s handled one before, which surprises me—must be all those video games. Daniella and Jen have theirs resting on their laps, while they tightly clutch their armrests.
The clock shows twenty seconds left.
“You don’t have to point it at anyone, just claim it,” Ian says.
“That’s how they get you, baby steps,” I whisper, although everyone can hear me.
Ian’s voice is tight. “No one’s going to make you fire it, but if you take it, that’s one less gun for those guys to get their hands on.”
Micki and Ty stare at me like pythons waiting for a rabbit. Maybe I should grab the gun and shoot out the cameras.
Ten seconds left.
A drop of sweat rolls down Ian’s forehead. “Vee, please, I can’t protect us alone.”
I so do not want to. But how can I sit here defenseless? With three seconds to go, I grab the gun. It’s heavy and greasy and totally does not feel fake. I place it on my lap, beyond caring if the oil stains my skirt. Micki grunts, a huge sneer on her face.
GREAT, GUYS! NOW SIT BACK AND ENJOY A SHORT FILM. JEN, PLEASE OPEN THE PINK CABINET FOR MOVIE TREATS.
She gets up, unsure of what to do with her gun, looking at Micki questioningly.
“Just hold it facing down,” Micki says.
Jen does so and tiptoes toward the cabinet. I can only imagine what NERVE’s sick idea of treats will entail. Probably something toxic. We haven’t had any poisonous dares yet. But when she opens the door, the buttery smell of popcorn fills the air and makes me want to puke. She pulls out a tub plastered with a brand name on its side and places it on the table before making a couple more trips to deliver boxes of candy that are also clearly labeled. Do the product sponsors actually think this’ll sell more concession-stand items? Dumb question.
Jen calls out to Micki, “There’s a cooler full of Red Bulls. Want one, baby?”
Of course, Micki and the same people who were downing beer earlier each take one. Alcohol and caffeine, a winning combination.
Ty and Micki are the only ones to grab at the popcorn, stuffing handfuls in their mouths. Samuel takes a box of candy with a shrug. Once Jen’s back in her seat, the lighting dims and a movie comes up on the panels. Its title, Gun Handling for Newbies.
We spend the next five minutes learning how to load our guns, cock the hammer, pull the slide back, and aim with one hand or both. With each new piece of knowledge, I fight the urge to scream. We’ll be shot. Our blood will flow down the drain, leaving the room tidy for the next batch of players. My knees shake so hard the gun might fall from my lap.
Ian takes my hand. “It’s all for show. They’re just trying to scare us.” Trying? Even his face is pale, and the pulse in his hand drums against mine.
WE’LL GET TO THE FUN PART SOON, GUYS, BUT FIRST A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING. SOMEONE STILL NEEDS A CONSEQUENCE FOR HER ACTIONS DURING A PRIOR DARE.
Seriously? What could possibly be worse than this? I want to kick myself as soon as the words form in my mind. It’s one of those questions that always answers itself in a way you’ll hate the moment you ask it.
In between Micki’s whoops, the sound of chattering comes from behind one of the doors we used for the customized dares. With a pop, the panel opens and two people wearing blindfolds stumble into the room.
The gun in my lap feels ten pounds heavier when I realize who’s joined us.
Tommy and Sydney.
seventeen
My spirits plummet, but I jump up. “You guys, get back out while you can!”
They tear their blindfolds off and blink against the lights with dazed expressions. The door they just emerged from slowly closes on its own.
I race toward them, pointing toward it. “Run!”
Their heads whip with nervous expressions between me and the door, which clicks shut. Micki and Ty, who’d risen from their seats, probably to block me from escaping, sit back down wearing smug expressions.
Sydney blinks with a level of disorientation I’ve never seen on her. The confusion snaps into shock when she sees the gun dangling in my hand. “That’s not real, is it?”
I tuck the weapon behind my back. “I don’t know.”
Tommy scans the room with a mixture of disgust and curiosity. He stares at me and shakes his head with an I told you so purse to his lips. The other players remain in their seats, some munching popcorn, as if my friends and I are the new show.
Syd struts forward so we’re inches apart, her eyes boring through mine. “You’ve taken this way too far. How could you not quit after they got you to hallucinate that you were breathing carbon monoxide fumes? Shit, Vee.” She grabs my arm and drags me toward the door they just came from.
I trail in her haughty wake. “How much have you seen? Did any of my requests to call 911 get through, or did you guys think that was part of the hallucination?”
She ignores me and knocks on the door. “Okay, let us out now.”
The panels light up and beep, causing her to crane her neck backward to read the one above her head. I put a hand on her back, bracing her for a message that’s sure to set her off.
THIS DOOR’S ON A TIMER AND CAN’T BE OPENED AGAIN FOR THIRTY MINUTES, UNLESS, OF COURSE, THERE’S AN EMERGENCY. THE PLAYERS CAN SHOW YOU WHERE THE DRINKS ARE. MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME!
Sydney slaps the wall. “I don’t want to make myself at home. And, hello, guns are an emergency!” She tries to pry her fingers into the almost invisible seam along the door, but it does no good, so she runs to the main door and tries the knob. When that doesn’t work, she bangs at the door and shouts, “You guys said Vee was in over her head and that Tommy and I should come pick her up. Now we have, so let us out or I’ll call my dad. He’s an attorney.”
Micki laughs and asks the other players if they want another beer. She pretends to prance on high heels as she passes between us.
Syd pulls out her phone and swears when she sees that she doesn’t have service. She marches to where I stand in the middle of the room. “Give me yours.”
My chest is heavy. This is my consequence. It’s not enough to put myself in danger or freak out my parents. NERVE’s playing on my guilt, which doesn’t take much with Capricorns, especially since mine was already near a breaking point before the grand prize round. I can hardly stand the thought that I’m responsible for my friends joining me in a hell they don�
��t yet understand. If anything happens to them…
I hang my head. “None of our phones work, and no one’s getting rescued or prosecuted. Not while we can entertain the Watchers. And now they’ve given everyone guns and made us watch a training video. I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
Tommy’s face is hard. He yells at Ian, who’s risen from the love seat and come out from behind the coffee table. “It’s your fault, you son of a bitch!” He takes a step forward.
Ian keeps his gun at his side, but his eyes go nuclear. “You don’t want to come any nearer.”
I dart in front of Tommy and hold out my hand. “Haven’t you been watching? As long as we’re stuck here, we’re lucky Ian has our backs.”
Tommy exhales loudly, pushing against me. “You call this having your back? You’d never have come in here on your own.”
My palm presses into his chest. Surprisingly, it’s as taut as Ian’s. “No one’s put a gun to my head. Yet. Ian’s in this horrible grand prize round just as much as me. And now, unfortunately, so are you and Sydney. Oh God, I wish you guys hadn’t come.”
Sydney’s hands are on her hips, the way they were in Act One, Scene Two. “A little late for that.”
“Why didn’t you call the police if you wanted to help me?” I ask.
She blows out in exasperation. “Police? For a game? Everyone knows it’s all choreographed.”
Now I’m exasperated. “You believe that?” I’m looking at Tommy. He should know better.
His cheeks are red. “They went skydiving in the Colorado grand prize round and all of the chutes opened. Your fear is manufactured.”
“Trust me, manufactured fear feels the same as the organic stuff.” I sigh. “We’ve all been duped.”
He pushes past me toward Ian. “Well, your partner didn’t help. He’s like a kind of Web whore. I found a few nasty sites with images that I’m sure are of him. Just wait until I run it against some facial recognition software.” He pulls out his phone and turns to me. “Here, I’ll show you.”
I grab at the phone. “I thought you didn’t have service. Call 911. Now!”
Micki and Ty jump from their places as Tommy clutches his phone to his chest and his eyes bug. “I don’t have service. I downloaded the video earlier.” He clicks on something and holds the phone up in front of my face.
Ian’s neck is red. “That’s bullshit!”
There’s a dimly lit video of what appears to be several barely dressed people wrestling, or whatever. I push it away. “This isn’t the time to be checking out weird videos.”
Tommy keeps the clip running. “You need to see who you’ve teamed up with and who you can trust.”
Micki laughs and peeks over the back of her chair. “What’s the matter? Virgin can’t handle a skin flick?”
The wall panels beep, luring our eyes to them.
ENOUGH CHITCHAT. HERE’S THE NEXT TASK: POINT YOUR GUN AT EITHER WHOEVER YOU VOTED FOR AS THE VICTIM OR ONE OF THE NEW ARRIVALS.
Sydney’s stilettos come an inch off the floor. “What the—”
A yelp escapes from my lips, and it feels as if all of my blood evaporates. Is this how I’ll die? Or get one of my friends killed? Is that what the audience really wants to see? My throat is tight. Why didn’t I stay after the play to greet Mom and Dad? Any decent daughter would have.
Micki and Ty turn around and use their seat backs to rest their arms and aim. She holds her gun with two hands, Ty with one, straight and sure. The holes in the gun barrels stare at me and Ian, unblinking.
Samuel takes a big breath before raising his gun. “Sorry, Vee. But I promise I’ll never pull the trigger.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” My voice has risen an octave. I consider running to the bathroom for cover and taking my friends with me, but the door doesn’t lock.
“Pick up your gun,” Ty says to Daniella.
She crosses her arms around her chest. “I don’t know. This is getting too creepy.”
Ty’s jaw goes tight. “Thought there was more to you.”
She turns toward us slowly, biting her lip, and then picks up the gun with two hands, one on the grip and one under the barrel. Thanks to the film, I know the terminology. Will that be the last knowledge I ever pick up?
Daniella whimpers and uses her shoulder to wipe her cheek. Her wobbly movements cause her bracelets to jangle, jangle, jangle, and cause my guts to twist.
“Good enough,” Ty says.
Micki whispers something into Jen’s ear before nipping at her lobe. Jen sighs and picks up her gun too. That’s one more barrel pointed at me, one more at Ian.
I turn to him. A pulsing vein bulges from his neck. Slowly, he picks up his gun and aims at Ty.
The room goes so quiet I can hear the buzz of the overhead lights.
I want to melt onto the carpet, nasty as it is, but I need to think. “Sydney and Tommy, this isn’t your fight.” I point to the main door. “Go stand over there.”
I begin walking around the table, back to my love seat, which is on the far side of the room from where I’ve directed Tommy and Sydney to go.
But they follow me.
I turn and say, “No. You’ll just give these jerks a bigger target. I know you’re smart enough to see that.”
Tommy leans in and whispers, “Also smart enough to have called the police before we got here. It’s only a matter of time before they get to this floor. All we need to do is stall.”
I want to sing in relief. Did NERVE hear him? I’m not sure if that would be bad or good. I whisper back, “I should’ve known. You’re amazing, Tommy. Now, please, go stall over there. I promise to check out any video you want after we get out of here.”
He takes Sydney’s arm, trying to nudge her in that direction, but it’s no use, of course. She pulls away and places her hands on my shoulders, as if she’s oblivious to the fact that she’s directly in the others’ gun sights.
Her eyes are moist, yet her makeup is still perfect. “Vee, even though you’ve behaved like a bitch and a half tonight, I came to help you, not huddle in some corner.”
“You know what, Syd? You’re right, I’ve been horrible. Somehow, I’ll make things up to you. But if you truly want to help, then please stay out of the way. Really. Please, please, please do it for me.”
She doesn’t budge. How can I get her to protect herself when she’s hardwired to stick up for me?
The lights begin to dim.
I push her toward the door. “Go now, before they turn off the lights and you’re stuck standing in the crossfire. Then you’re no help to anyone.”
She trembles, whether in fear or frustration, I can’t tell. But finally, common sense sinks in. She trudges away. Tommy follows, glancing back toward Ian and me.
I head to the love seat, bumping into the stupid table along the way, which causes it to swing with a groan. Samuel puts out his free hand to stop it, keeping his gun arm pointed at me. Instead of sitting, I get behind the love seat and crouch, using its back the way the others have to hold my gun. The flimsy back cushion probably wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it makes me feel better to hide behind a shield. Over it, I aim at Micki, who aims back with a sneer. I can hardly believe I’m pointing a weapon at another human being.
Ian’s still in the center of the room, out in the open. As the lights dim further, he comes around the table too, taking a spot behind Samuel’s love seat. Why didn’t I think to tell Tommy and Sydney to hide there so they’d at least have some cover? Just another way I’ve failed everyone I care about tonight. My friends look so vulnerable huddled near the door.
Although the other players would probably hate to admit that Ian and I have the right idea, the two couples across the coffee table get out of their seats to take up positions behind them, the way we have. I’m sure that Samuel would like to get behind his seat, but since Ian’s there, he hurries around the table to join Daniella and Ty behind theirs. So, we’re like two armies, five against two, aiming over our love seat
s and across the coffee table border.
It’s only taken a minute for us to assume our positions, but we must’ve made NERVE impatient, because the beeping starts up again.
COCK THE HAMMER ON YOUR GUN.
The panels display an animation of a gun being cocked in case we don’t remember from the video.
My stomach drops. I press my thighs together to keep my legs from shaking, and I say, “Do you really think you can get away with this? If these guns are loaded and one of us gets shot, that’s the end of your game, for good.”
NOT THE END, AN ADVERTISEMENT. The words flash quickly on the panel across the room, the one that Ian and I face, but not on the one to our right. Sydney and Tommy crane their heads toward the message I saw, but I don’t think they were fast enough to read it.
I speak to the camera, “Are you kidding? Even if no one can find you, who’d want to play your game after that?”
The other players look puzzled. Is the panel above my head, the one they’re facing, not working?
The panel across from me blinks quickly. PEOPLE WHO LIKE TO WIN WILL ALWAYS PLAY.
A dark corner of my brain knows this is true, no matter how badly I want it not to be. Look what I’ve done tonight in the hopes of winning fashion school tuition.
If I can’t appeal to NERVE, maybe I can find a shred of logic in the other players, who probably think I’ve lost it, since they only heard my end of the conversation. “C’mon, you guys. Let’s stop. They want us to shoot each other. As an advertisement. You think I’m exaggerating? Look at the carpet under the table, in the center. That’s a drain. Know what it’s for? To hose down this room. From our blood.”
Micki sneers. “No, it’s probably to wash out the piss, from babies like you who wet their panties.”
She rubs her thumb against the back of her gun, creating a loud click. Jen closes her eyes for a long moment, and then, keeping her gaze averted from mine, cocks her hammer too. Ty does the same. Ian too. Click, click, click.
Ty raises his eyebrows at Daniella. “What’re you waiting for?”
“Are these loaded?” she calls out.
