These Deadly Games(70)

This couldn’t be happening.

Akira was supposed to get into Cornell, become an architect, bring more beauty into this world. And now everything about her—her plans, her dreams, her life—was gone, just like that. Because I killed her. I killed my best friend. I may not have pushed her, but I wrestled her for my phone despite our precarious position.

Reckless.

Careless.

My fault. I might as well have shoved her, just like An0nym0us1 wanted.

An0nym0us1. Shit. My phone had sailed down the cliff with Akira, severing our connection. I only had a few hours left to win the game. But how could I play without a new set of rules to follow? Would this force a forfeit?

If you forfeit, I’ll keep playing without you. Oh, God. I had to warn the others. I had to get it together. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just me and the air.

In.

Out.

Once I managed to slow my breathing, I got my bearings. I was too shaky to attempt standing on this uneven surface, but could sidle back to safety. Akira’s phone lay facedown a few feet away in its purple case. Maybe she did survive the fall. If so, I had to call for help. I stretched my arm, reaching, reaching, and my trembling fingertips grazed the edge of the purple case, scooting it farther away. Vertigo zipped down my spine.

Oh, God. No. Deep breaths. I could do this. I had to do this.

I leaned over as much as I dared and grabbed the phone, then spidered backward on my hands and knees, ignoring the agony in my wrist, as though an enormous, monstrous hand might reach up from the trees below and rip me from the boulder. By the time I hurled myself back onto the dirt trail, the cuts on my left palm were bleeding again. I scrambled to my feet and leaned against the waist-high stone barrier, peering over the edge.

I could only make out a smidge of Akira’s purple jacket through the branches below from this angle. Was that … movement? Or just the branches between us rustling in the breeze? “Kiki!” I called to her again and again, hoping she’d regain consciousness and call back. It was such a steep drop; I’d have to go around to the lake and hike alongside it to reach her.

I brightened Akira’s phone screen—even though it was locked, and I didn’t know the passcode, I could access the emergency screen. I hovered my thumb over the emergency call button. If you call the police, she dies, I remembered.

“Dammit!” Would An0nym0us1 even know? Even if they weren’t tracking Akira’s phone, they might be monitoring the police scanner. At this point, I couldn’t tell the difference between feasibility and paranoia. Either way, I couldn’t waste an opportunity to save Akira’s life—if there was still a life to save—on the off chance some sadist knew I took it.

So I called 911. Held the phone to my ear. Waited for a ringtone that never came.

The call wouldn’t go through. Naturally.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The phone only detected a smidge of a signal—enough for texts to get through, apparently, but not to place calls. The universe refused to stop punching me in the face.

Or maybe An0nym0us1 blocked the call. Just like I suspected when I’d tried calling 911 as Matty gasped for his last breath.

Paranoia? Or was it possible?

No matter. I had to get help, warn my friends, and find Caelyn—before she bled out from either of her stab wounds. The one on her neck didn’t look deep in that picture, but I couldn’t be sure. I bolted back down the trail toward the parking lot at the castle, hoping I’d run into that woman and her dog again. But the trails were empty now that the rain had picked up.

As I hurtled into the parking lot, a couple were getting into a black SUV, closing their umbrellas before ducking in. “Wait!” I cried. “Help!” The driver twisted around to look, and I recognized him. “Mr. Ferguson!” Our chemistry teacher. I couldn’t see much of the woman already in the passenger seat. I knew he was engaged; maybe this was his fiancée, and they were checking out the castle as a wedding venue or something. Welp, I was about to ruin the vibe of this prospect.

“Crystal! What’s—”

“Please…” I said, out of breath. “Call 911 … Akira … the lookout point … Hermit Thrush’s Nest … She fell off the boulder. She might be dead … I don’t know … Phone isn’t working.”

“Oh my God,” Mr. Ferguson’s fiancée gasped.

I glanced at Akira’s phone screen. There was more of a signal now, but Mr. Ferguson was already dialing on his phone. As he held it to his ear, he asked, “What were you doing there?”

I shook my head. “Just … talking. We’d gone for a hike. Is the call going through?”

Mr. Ferguson held up a finger. “Hi, yeah, there’s an emergency at Newboro State Park—”

Now that I knew help would be on the way, I raced to my car at the other end of the parking lot.

“Wait, Crystal!” Mr. Ferguson called after me.

But I couldn’t stick around. I launched myself into my car and peeled from the lot. Oh, God. Where should I go first? Akira had mentioned that Randall was back at the hospital.

And I had to get to him before An0nym0us1 did.





5 Years Ago


The police didn’t question us for long.

We told them we’d fallen asleep watching Frozen. Brady wanted to sleep in his own bed. We weren’t sure what time he left—maybe around 1:00 a.m. I thought at some point the truth would slip out in a frenzy of tears, but we were all too afraid to say anything else. Even Zoey stayed on script, though I thought the way she clamped her lips like she was sucking in a secret was a dead giveaway. Apparently not.