The Tetradome Run

by Spencer Baum

  A buzzer sounds.

  The view on our screens takes us inside a dimly lit room packed with people.

  They heard the buzzer too. We can see it in their eyes. The reaction. Their bodies are itching to run but they have nowhere to go. On our television screens it looks like they’re trapped at the bottom of a tin can. Bouncing on the balls of their feet, some of them whimpering, they look to each other for confirmation they aren’t missing something.

  That was the buzzer, right? We need to run, right? Yes, but where do we go?

  The camera that provides our view sweeps, or rather, arcs, around the circular space. We see thirty-six frightened people in the blur, occasionally stopping at faces of interest. Robin Hightower. Evan Novak. Lee Patton.

  The camera pans across Nathan Cavanaugh, so recognizable in this crowd. He looks calm, a Shaolin monk waiting for the fight to start.

  Jenna stands next to Nathan. Her body is coiled in preparation for whatever’s coming.

  Chad Holiday and Marion Blaze are the narrators for tonight’s show, and as we look at Jenna, we get our first comment from them.

  Look at the determination in her eyes, Marion says.

  Hardly seems like the same girl we saw in the Qualifier, does it? says Chad.

  Not at all, says Marion. There is a hardness in those eyes. I mean, look at her!

  We switch to a lower camera angle. We see that the ceiling of this human container is a spiral of overlapping panels, like the shutter on a camera.

  We can’t see which contestant is shouting, but we hear him clearly enough. “Here we go here we go here we go!”

  The shutter opens. A bright light shines through a growing hole in the center of the ceiling.

  Shadows from above cut through the light.

  “Something’s coming down!” someone shouts.

  The contestants duck. Some push for the edges of the room. A few contestants, however, stay put, looking up in anticipation. Jenna and Nathan are among them.

  The shadows reveal themselves. Ropes. They come to a stop inches above the heads of our contestants. Nathan and Jenna are the first to act, both of them leaping from the ground to grab onto a rope and start climbing.

  And here they go! Chad says. Nathan has the early lead. Jenna is in second.

  Those two showed great instincts getting on the ropes so fast, says Marion.

  Our view of the scene widens. Ten ropes hanging from above, one or two contestants on each one, climbing as fast as they can. There isn’t enough space on the ropes for everyone yet, not until the leaders climb high enough to make room. A scrum ensues, as contestants on the ground try to pull their competitors off the ropes.

  A few climbers, Jenna and Nathan among them, break free from the scrum, leaving fewer people crowded inside the tin can below. With fewer people in the can, the walls are visible to us. We see rectangular outlines cut into the steel. Doors. They are opening from the bottom. Slowly.

  And now things get interesting, says Chad.

  There are still a few contestants who haven’t found a space on the ropes. They are scrambling, scattering, panicked. One of them moves towards an opening door, perhaps wondering if there is a way out on the other side.

  Look at Ian Smith, says Marion. Not a wise move on his part. If I were you, Ian, I’d get away from that door.

  Ian bends down to look at the widening crack between door and floor. He doesn’t like what he sees. He backs away, frightened.

  He’s too late. The door is open enough that one of the creatures on the other side can squeeze underneath.

  It’s a creature familiar to viewers of The Tetradome Run.

  A barghest! Marion squeals with delight. A barghest has entered the room!

  With a single leap, the modified wolf is on top of Ian Smith, its jaws at his throat. A spray of blood. The sound of tearing flesh.

  Ian Hennessy Smith, convicted of three counts of first degree murder and sentenced to death (more biographical details available on TetradomeRun.com) has his execution carried out on live television.

  All the doors open. A pack of barghests pours in and quickly kills three more contestants. The camera catches it all, then switches to an overhead view. We watch Nathan and Jenna, the first to reach the tops of their respective ropes. They pull themselves onto the platform above.

  CHAPTER 22

  Gabe Chancellor watched with the rest of the world. The ropes, the climbing, the barghests, the blood.

  The color of the blood surprised him. So vibrant on the TV screen, it glistened in a way that didn’t seem natural. Looking at the blood, Gabe wondered if Devlin Enterprises was doing some kind of digital color enhancement to make it a brighter shade of red.

  “Oh! Did you see that?” someone yelled.

  “See what?” said someone else.

  “Hang on, they’ll show it again,” said the woman standing next to Gabe.

  He didn’t know their names. Six years at the company and Gabe still didn’t know the names of all the spouses and children that came to the parties.

  “What are they showing again?” said a teenager at the far end of the room.

  “Just watch!” snapped Cameron.

  Cameron was the I.T. guy at the office. He was awkward and annoying. He didn’t shower enough, he didn’t change his clothes enough, and he was disgusting when he ate. He was eating mixed nuts at the moment, pulling them from a plastic cup, chewing with his mouth open, licking salt from his fingertips.

  The lawyers at Barnes, Caidan, and Hearse put up with Cameron’s lack of hygiene and personal awareness because he was good at his job. Gabe put up with Cameron because, grating as he could be, Cameron had a curiosity about the world that made him interesting. Over the years, Gabe had learned that if you hang out with Cameron long enough, eventually he’ll say something so different from what you were thinking that it cracks open your mind.

  It had already happened once today. During the pregame, while they all stood around the TV watching the various segments about Jenna unfold, including one where she went to a roadside memorial for her dead boyfriend, Cameron blurted out a sentence that had been bouncing around Gabe’s noodle ever since.

  Kind of interesting that her friend, her boyfriend, and her brother all ended up dead, don’t you think?

  Yes, it was interesting. It was so interesting that Gabe couldn’t stop thinking about it. They were more than an hour removed from that pregame segment. They were in the thick of the race now, and Gabe was still thinking about all the death that surrounded Jenna Duvall.

  What were the odds that so many young people in the same circle would end up dead?

  We’re going now to Deck Three, where Jenna and Nathan are in a race to grab the first key, Chad Holiday narrated.

  Gabe hadn’t done anything with the letter Jenna dropped for him. Not since his entirely unproductive visit to the Corners Apartment Complex. He didn’t like any of his options. He could write a report on the letter even though he didn’t have the memoir yet, but if he did that, someone else might get the memoir first. He could go back to the Corners one more time, but he’d still be a trespasser who was breaking and entering. He could continue to sit tight and wait for this custodian-of-the-estate thing to play out—it’s what he was doing now. It seemed like the best option. It’s what the lawyers wanted.

  He didn’t feel good about it.

  On the TV, Jenna and Nathan worked their way through a hall of swinging axes. Each ax was a giant pendulum with a massive half-moon blade that looked heavy, sharp, and clean, like a new set of knives. Gabe imagined that, soon enough, many of those axes would be stained red with blood.

  He cringed as Jenna darted past the first one.

  “She’s not as bold as Nathan is,” said Cameron. “Nathan’s getting the key.”

  Cameron was referring to the blue key that dangled from a string at the end of the hallway, and he was right. While Jenna carefully moved past one ax at a time, Nathan sometimes made a daring dash past two at o
nce.

  Jenna was only halfway through the corridor when Nathan reached the end and snatched the key.

  Now he has a choice to make, narrated Marion Blaze. Go left or go right. Each pathway leads to a different section of the course.

  Different pathways, different outcomes, uncertain endings…Nathan had to make a choice about which way to go, and Gabe had to make a choice about what to do.

  Nathan ran to the left.

  We’re going to Deck One, where Merlin Henderson finds himself in a sticky situation!

  What if there was something good in that memoir? Something the world didn’t know about this intriguing young woman.

  Whose circle of friends was drenched in death.

  From the middle of the couch, a partygoer shouted at the TV. “Oh, here it comes,” he said. “Here it comes!”

  Two terrapiters, the Tetradome’s famous oversized arachnids, stepped into view of the cameras. Merlin Henderson, the former kingpin of the Atlanta drug trade, who was now thoroughly entangled in spiderwebs, began to scream like a toddler.

  Everyone at Myka’s party loved it.

  “Nowhere to go, is there Merlin?”

  “Money shot coming up people!

  “One more going down! Merlin’s about to go down!”

  There was no denying that Merlin Henderson, who had pulled the trigger on at least eight murders, deserved what was coming for him. Gabe felt nervous for the guy anyway. Nervous in a way he didn’t used to feel. Thirty-year-old Gabe would have loved to watch the terrapiters take out a criminal warlord. How come forty-year-old Gabe didn’t want to see it?

  What the hell am I doing here?

  Jenna Duvall, the most notorious criminal in the world, had thrown a secret letter on the ground for him, a letter with a quest for him to undertake, one that required him to steel up his nerves and break into a dead guy’s apartment, but here he was at the office party, watching The Tetradome Run.

  He turned his back to the screen right as the room erupted in cheers.

  “Excuse me,” he said to Cameron, pushing past.

  “Getting another drink?” Cameron said.

  “No, actually, I think I’m gonna go.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Jenna emerged from a snarl of narrow tunnels into a long hallway.

  The yellow key hung on a hook at the end of the hall. Jenna had a straight path to it, fifty yards maybe, with no signs of danger in between. No monsters, no visible obstacles…she was six or seven steps into the hallway when the ground started to move beneath her feet. A whooshing sound—industrial, like factory equipment coming to life—and then it began. The ground was pulling against her. She was on a long treadmill. A slow pace at first but it was picking up steam. Even as Jenna pumped her legs faster, she sensed her forward motion slowing down.

  Faster, she told herself. They’re toying with me. This is a game.

  She moved forward and it pulled back. She was a high school calculus problem come to life. If Jenna runs at x miles per hour and the treadmill pulls against her at y accelerating at z…

  She heard movement behind her. Footsteps. Another runner on the treadmill? Who cares? Focus! This was an obstacle about speed and endurance. Closer to the yellow key. Run faster to get closer to the yellow key.

  And now she saw something new. An opening in the wall to her right. A way out? If she wanted she could jump off this treadmill. She could leap into that opening. From the corner of her eye she saw that the opening led to a hallway with a solid, beautifully motionless floor. It was tempting.

  Jump off now and I’ll never work up enough speed to get this far again. The yellow key is right there!

  She put even more effort into her stride and passed the opening in the wall.

  As soon as she did, an alarm sounded.

  *****

  In the control room, Bart Devlin called for camera eighteen on the main feed.

  “I want to get a good view of the space before the Minotaur comes out.”

  “Camera eighteen,” said a tech named Parna, and the main feed flipped to a wide view of Jenna, one that allowed viewers to see the runners behind her, and, behind them, a panel on the rear wall, slowly opening.

  Hooves became visible beneath the panel, stomping in anticipation.

  Oh my, what do we have waiting behind that wall? Chad said.

  Ladies and gentlemen, said Marion, we’re about to get our first look at the latest creation from Tetradome Labs.

  Three quarters open, and the creature’s body was visible. Thick and muscular, covered in dark brown hair, its front legs were hopping up and down.

  Remember when the course designer told you he was inspired by the Greek myth of the Labyrinth? Marion said.

  I certainly do, said Chad.

  The creature’s snout was visible, and now its enormous black eyes.

  Behold, the Minotaur! said Marion.

  The two-horned creature that charged onto the treadmill had a stature more befitting of a rhinoceros than a bull. Still, Bart liked that they were calling it the Minotaur. Giving this beast a snappy name would make it more clickworthy on social media.

  Here we go, said Chad. Jack Hart is up first.

  The world got a clear view of the Minotaur ramming Jack Hart in the back. Knocked off his feet, Jack collided with Rowland Test, and both fell to the floor, where they were quickly trampled.

  The Minotaur was coming up on Nev Farkus.

  Far ahead, at the end of the treadmill, Jenna still had time to duck through the break in the wall and get out.

  But Jenna, God bless her, was still trying for the yellow key.

  *****

  A final surge and Jenna was there. A small patch of concrete at the end of the treadmill, she got her right foot onto it and it was done.

  But now she had nowhere to go. A concrete wall in front of her, the only way out was behind. The yellow key—she’d been so focused on the key she’d just assumed there would be a way.

  It was a poor choice, she could see that now, but there was no time for regret. She snatched the key off its hook and turned around.

  Her view of the monster was a snapshot. Tall as a pickup truck, its horns curved and razor sharp, its eyes glistening with rage, it moved with power and gusto on legs as thick as tree trunks.

  It wasn’t at the exit yet, but it was close.

  She didn’t think; she just moved. A full-on sprint in the other direction, the treadmill’s momentum working with rather than against her now, and she was flying. The exit approached. An opening in the wall, she was going to reach it before the monster did—all she needed to do was hop off this moving…

  She tripped.

  Or rather, someone tripped her.

  The exit, the break in the wall—someone was already there, waiting on the other side, and as Jenna approached, he stuck his leg out.

  Shin on shin, his leg hooked onto hers, holding her foot behind while the rest of her body flew forward. She landed on her side and immediately was on the move, the treadmill carrying her towards the beast. Barreling across the corridor, no control over her body at all, the world was a spinning blur. Instinct took over—she covered her head with her hands, protecting her skull as she tumbled, and waited for impact.

  *****

  He tripped her! Chad yelled. Nathan Cavanaugh tripped…and now Jenna is rolling…

  Bart watched with the rest of the world, time slowing as Jenna’s body rolled towards the Minotaur, which jumped and writhed and waved its head in agitation.

  The Control Room was silent. Bart leaned forward, his breath icy hot in his throat.

  And then…

  She’s through! Marion yelled.

  What just happened? said Chad.

  The Minotaur leapt over her in stride! said Marion. The treadmill pulled her so fast she went under its feet, untouched!

  No, it can’t be, said Chad.

  On the other side of the monster, the treadmill carrying her to safety, Jenna pushed herself onto her hands
and knees.

  By God, it can! Chad continued. A lucky roll, some miraculous timing, and Jenna Duvall is still alive!

  The Control Room cheered as Jenna got to her feet. Clapping hands, wide eyes, joyful laughs…

  “That was awesome!” said James.

  The announcers agreed.

  Have you ever seen anything like that? said Chad.

  Never! said Marion. But I’ll tell you what. This Jenna Duvall, she’s got grit. And she’s still alive, people! Jenna Duvall has the yellow key and she’s still alive!

  CHAPTER 24

  The Corners apartment complex was quiet when Gabe arrived. The residents were all inside their units, watching the show.

  Gabe parked his car on the street north of the apartment that once belonged to Kyle Duvall. He walked past the front door, turning onto the pathway between buildings.

  He found his way to the crooked back window he was sure led to Kyle’s apartment. He looked in on a dark, abandoned kitchen. He heard the muffled sound of Chad Holiday’s voice narrating the Run from televisions in apartments on either side.

  He used the flashlight on his phone to get a better look at the bottom edge of the window. Still crooked in its frame. Still an opening between window and windowpane.

  He looked left and right. No one around. If he was going to do this, now was the time.

  Was he going to do this?

  He took a breath, made the choice.

  He pulled open the window.

  CHAPTER 25

  Fourteen people have died since the broadcast began, and if we are among the millions watching, we are all in. That’s how the show works. With each person that dies, we, the viewers, become more invested in those that still live.

  Harrison Mondrian has just opened the purple door, and in so doing, released a swarm of oversized bugs onto the course.

  Chad tells us these bugs don’t have an official name yet, but we can vote on one of three options in an online poll.

  Needlenoses is one option, a good option, since the bugs used long, piercing needles to suck the blood from Harrison’s back until he dropped dead.