Code(89)

The situation felt like a bad joke: five teenagers, dressed in formal wear, locked in a basement, trying to defuse a poison gas machine.

Yet it was very real. Lives depended on getting this right.

And we were finally, totally, and completely out of time.

“Fifteen seconds.” Hi swallowed audibly.

“I’ll do it.” Ben reached for the screen. “Tell me how to spell it.”

Hi called out the letters. Shelton covered his face, unable to watch. Jason closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer.

As I watched Ben’s fingers, my universe narrowed to the blinking cursor skipping across the screen.

Something was wrong.

What?

13 . . . 12 . . . 11 . . .

What?

10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .

We never used the equation.

“Here goes nothing.” Ben crossed himself. Reached for the keyboard.

A voice screamed inside my head.

The equation!

“STOP!”

Ben’s finger froze.

I shoved him aside.

6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . .

Hammering backspace, I wiped out Ben’s entry and tapped a new sequence as fast as my fingers could fly. Pressed enter.

3 . . . 2 . . .

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The deafening static ceased.

The timer flickered, went blank.


Accepted.

Everyone gasped with relief.

“What did you type?” Shelton demanded.

“CH3BR. The formula led us to Kiawah, not the chemical name.”

Within the box, metal scraped metal. I heard a series of clicks.

The HVACs shut down.

The screen filled with bouncing red balloons. The horns returned. Fiery letters spelled out a single word.


CONGRATULATIONS!

“We did it!” Shelton pumped his fists, then gave Hi a flying chest-bump.

Jason and Ben high-fived like crazy. Then they froze, realizing exactly what they were doing. A beat passed, then the two boys nodded and shook hands. Hi and Shelton stared in disbelief.

I closed my eyes, too relieved to celebrate.

“What’s happening?” Chance’s voice carried from the passage. “These freaking clamps won’t come loose.”

I was about to explain when a new message lit the screen.

My elation gave way to dread. “Guys.”

The others followed my sight line. All celebrations died.


Well done, Players!

Through quick wits and skillful performance you have won The Game and successfully averted The Danger. However, you broke The Rules, and therefore must pay The Penalty. Make your choice.


Sincerely,

The Gamemaster

More clicks. Whirs. Inside the box, a canister rotated.

The HVACs blasted back to life.

“We didn’t break any rules!” Shelton shrieked. “We followed everything exactly!”

“Oh holy hell.” Hi was staring at Jason.

Oh no.

Jason. Chance.

We’d told others about The Game.

We’d sought outside help, which was strictly forbidden.

We had broken The Rules.

And the Gamemaster intended to exact punishment.

I heard a rattle by my feet. Looked down. A small hole had opened at the base of the front panel.

Adrenaline shot through me. Every hair on my body stood on end.

I knew what was coming.

Sweet mother of God.

We’d saved the people at the debutante ball.

Now the gas was for us.





CHAPTER 47





“We have to get out of here!”

My hands shook. My heart banged my ribs. I saw nothing but the small round hole that might soon spew my death.

Hi’s cheeks flushed as dark as his purple tuxedo. “Is that what I think it is?”

“We didn’t cheat!” Shelton verged on tears. “We beat The Game without help!”

Ben charged into the passage and shoulder-slammed the grate.

Chance hopped backward in surprise. “What are you doing, man?”

“Get us out!” Ben bellowed.

“It won’t budge.” Chance sounded exhausted. “These clamps must be made of freaking Kevlar. I can’t hammer them off.”

“Find a way!” Ben shouted. “We’re about to die in here, Claybourne!”

The banging resumed, more frenzied than before.

Inside the device, one deadly canister spun. As I watched, it slotted forward into a narrow chute. On-screen, the Gamemaster’s final message winked out.

The second Plexiglas cover abruptly slid sideways.

A metal handle emerged to fill the empty space.

“What the frick?” Jason said.

I stared at the strange mechanism. It looked like the grip of a shovel. Arrows on its surface pointed both clockwise and counterclockwise.

“It must turn,” I said, vaguely aware that Ben had rejoined us.

“Like a valve?” Hi said. “But what does it do?”

I was considering that very question when my ears detected a low hiss.

“Move away!” I screamed.

Everyone backpedaled but me. We were out of options.

Gripping the handle, I turned it as far clockwise as it would go.

“You did it!” Jason kicked the base of the device. “The hole closed!”