Louis gave a stoic nod while Fitzy wrapped an arm around Beck’s shoulders. “Beck! Are you excited? Are you ready?”
“Yes! I can’t wait to get started!”
Fitzy turned to the Game Master. “So, Louis, what can you tell Beck about this first room?”
“Wait,” said Beck, and made a show of looking around. “Where’s the rest of my team?”
Louis’s lips curled into a secretive smile. “Don’t worry about them. Now, listen closely. You and your teammates are laboratory assistants working for the genius chemist Dr. Adam Theery. You have been tasked with creating a serum that will enhance the power of the human brain to astronomical levels, unleashing our true potential for ultimate intelligence. However, a spy has sneaked into your laboratory, locked you and your team in the supply closets, and kidnapped your boss. You must follow the clues left by Dr. Theery in order to finish the final serum . . . before your opponents can obtain all the doctor’s secrets.”
Beck whispered, “Cool.”
Fitzy chuckled. “I wonder if our Game Master might have a hint to help you complete this task?”
Beck stood straighter. The Game Master’s clue had been known to make or break a round.
“As you know,” said Louis, “winning teams aren’t always those with the smartest players or the most experience. Sometimes the winning team is the one that has the best . . .chemistry.”
Chemistry. Laboratory. Got it.
Except that didn’t seem like much of a clue.
Beck had no time to ponder it because Fitzy was handing him a blindfold. “Ready?”
“Heck yeah.” Beck slid the mask over his eyes, blacking out the world. Everything but the sounds and the tastes. “Wherever you are, Dr. Theery, I won’t let you down.”
“Nice one,” mumbled the director’s voice in his earpiece.
Beck preened.
He was led off the stage. They didn’t walk far.
“Through here,” said his guide. “One more step. And . . . stop.”
Beck listened to his own breath and refrained from rubbing his sweating palms on his lab coat. “But my team—?”
“I’m going to activate the door,” the guide said. “It’s self-locking, but we’ll be on the other side if there’s trouble.”
Something rumbled. The doors, closing Beck in.
Fitzy’s voice came through his earpiece. “When I say the magic word, you may remove your blindfolds and begin. Three . . . two . . . one . . .Escape!”
Beck yanked off the blindfold.
He was alone in a room not much bigger than a storage closet, the walls painted slate gray and the floor speckled linoleum. Everything had a pink glow about it. No indication of his entry point—it had merged seamlessly into the wall. A light bulb hung overhead. Before him was a metal door with a three-digit padlock on the handle. A piece of torn paper was tacked to the center of the door. The scrawled message readno one nor.
He turned around. A shelf at eye level held a collection of glass jars with a strange assortment of items in them. The pink glow, he saw now, was coming from a neon sign that said, simply, escape.
In case he forgot what he was here for.
Already, his nerves were dissipating. Codes. Logic. Patterns. This was his happy place. No matter his reasons for being here—the tarnish of resentment that had plagued his relatives for the last decade, his plans to finally set things right—here, he was in control. Beck versus the puzzle room. Beck versus the Game Master.
He was reaching for the first jar when a new voice crackled in his ear.
“Roll call. Who’s here with me?”
Beck froze. The voice was familiar. The texture. The taste. It was so unexpected and so . . .impossiblethat Beck swiveled around in a full circle, sure this was a practical joke.
“Hello?” said another feminine voice, warm and comforting, like chamomile tea. “I’m Carter. Where are you?”
