Well—hers, and TeamJerks. What did they have against her team, anyway?
“When I say the word,” came Fitzy’s voice, interrupting her internal tirade, “you may remove your blindfold and begin. Three . . . two . . . one . . .Escape!”
THE
ESCAPE GAME
SEASON FIVE
Round Three: Welcome to the Fun House
THREE TEAMS REMAINING
36
Carter
Carter pulled off her blindfold. She was standing on a smallbalcony with a narrow staircase curving down to one side. On a ledge in front of her, dozens of darts with brightly colored fletching were arranged into rows. Over the balcony was a drop of maybe twenty feet, and directly across from her, a wall of balloons, each one labeled from one to twenty-five.
Balloons. Darts.
She knew this game. She’d played it countless times at the autumn fair that came through town. So many carnival games were scams, but popping balloons with darts? Now that was something she could do. One year, when she was maybe nine or ten, she’d played the game twelve times in a row until she’d earned enough tickets to get the stuffed snail that still sat prominently on her bookshelves at home.
Carter grinned, lightheaded. She might actually be able to pull this off.
She picked up a dart. Only then did she spot her teammates below, standing in front of a humongous door that was painted to look like a creepy clown. Darkened light bulbs surrounded a fun house sign, while a ride inoperable—do not enter message hung crooked over the door.
Beck cupped his hands around his mouth. “You can do this, Carter!”
She focused on the wall of balloons, lifted the dart, and threw.
Her first dart struck number twenty-two with a satisfying pop. She half expected a bell to go off, but nothing happened. She threw another dart and hit number seventeen. Another pop and nothing else.
Did she have to pop them all?
The third throw—number nine. Number five. Number twenty-four.
With a frustrated grunt, she picked up the next dart.
“Carter!” shouted Sierra. “There’s a scanner down here. It says one ticket needed per entry. I think you’re looking for four tickets!”
“Tickets,” Carter whispered to herself. “Four tickets. Four balloons. Okay. Okay, I can do that.” She studied the board of balloons, willing it to give up its secrets.
She zeroed in on lucky number sixteen, because 1.6 kicked off the golden ratio.
She exhaled and threw, hitting number sixteen dead on.
Nothing. No ticket.
Crap, crap, crap.
“What numbers do I hit?” she called down to her teammates, who were busily searching the area in front of the fun-house door.
“We don’t know,” Sierra called back. “There’s nothing down here to indicate any numbers, or a clue . . .”
“Keep popping those damn balloons,” said Adi. “As fast as you can!”
Carter grabbed another dart.
