“I don’t think so, but they are human-sized dolls.” Cautiously he moved closer to the platform and examined the nearest couple. A name was embroidered on the back of the woman’s dress. “Fenella Fordyce.” He took a beat to remember why that sounded eerily familiar. “Shit.”
“Do you recognize her?” Alice took a step forward to get a better look at the name on the gown.
“That’s far enough,” he said. “I don’t trust the dance floor. There is some energy in it. I think it’s the source of the music.”
Alice stopped. “What do you know about Fenella Fordyce?”
“She was believed to be the Gamer’s first victim.”
“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she dancing with?”
He shifted position to get a look at the male figure. “There’s no name, but I recognize the face. It’s the Gamer.” He studied the next couple, careful not to step up onto the dance floor. The name on the gown was also familiar. “Jolina Brown. Another one of the Gamer’s victims. The male figure is the Gamer.”
“All the male figures have the same features,” Alice said.
“The Gamer is dancing with each of his eight known victims.”
As if sensing his presence, the lights came up in the ballroom and the platform began to rotate slowly, a carousel from hell. The distorted music swelled as the chords of “The Underworld Waltz” grew louder and more ominous. The eight couples on the dance floor began to move in a stiff funereal waltz.
“If it starts spinning too quickly, it won’t be possible to cross it,” Alice said.
“Stand back, I’m going to run an experiment.”
“We should probably talk about this.”
“No time,” he said. “We need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
He stepped onto the slowly revolving platform. The reaction of the eight couples was immediate. The figures ceased waltzing and turned toward him. Each of the Gamer mannequins raised a hand. For the first time he saw that they gripped syringes.
The dancers glided toward him.
“Get off the platform,” Alice said. “They’re closing in on you.”
“I noticed.” He stepped off the dance floor. The figures resumed waltzing as if no longer aware of him. “It’s a relatively straightforward motion-activated device. When the figures sense someone on the platform, they automatically turn toward it. The victim is forced to try to make it across the platform by dodging the syringes.”
“That would be impossible. There’s no way to win.”
“The Gamer was not concerned with fairness. He fed off the panic and terror of his victims. But to get the results he wanted, he needed them to have some hope of winning.”
“Hmm. Do you think we might be able to push the couples off the platform as they go past?”
“Maybe. But that’s risky. We don’t know how they’re attached. If the Gamer used strong magnets, we won’t be able to move them off the dance floor. Let’s try something more basic first.”
He took the mag-rez out of his jacket. “Lucky for us, this thing has a silencer. Otherwise it would get really loud in here.”
“Are you going to shoot the dancers?” Alice asked uneasily. “The bullets will probably go straight through them. It won’t stop them. They’re nothing more than animated dolls.”
“Not the dancers,” he said. “The dance floor.”
He activated the silencer feature on the pistol and fired three rapid shots into the platform. The high-powered weapon was not completely silent, but the harsh spitting sounds were tolerable in the confines of the chamber.
The mirrored floor cracked but the music did not stop. Neither did the dancers. He was about to try another shot when one of the Gamer-and-victim couples glided over a damaged section. The weight of the figures caused a series of smaller fractures that fanned out across the platform in a furiously expanding spiderweb.
The strains of the waltz continued but they rapidly became more warped and discordant.
