Twelve

by Dustin Stevens

  “An intricate system of tunnels and mazes interweaves throughout and there is no shortage of special, shall we say, surprises along the way.”

  As he spoke, an automated viewer showed the various aspects of the blueprint.

  “Also, throughout the grounds are over twenty-five extras, brought in to help make this evening a little more entertaining for us. Each of them has been instructed that for every participant they are able to incapacitate, they will be awarded $25,000 in cash.”

  Winston pressed another button and the schematic zeroed in on the twelve doors marking the starting positions. Red arrows pulsated forward from each of them displaying the directions the various hallways led.

  “Right now, all competitors have entered their respective doors just off the main foyer. Behind that door is a second one which will not be unlocked until we release it. At that time, the combatants will proceed forward.

  “In the beginning, there is very little intersection between the corridors. A fair bit of the early fighting will be done between our extras and our guests. This was intentional both to allow for a little warm up and to allow you all to get a better feel for their abilities.”

  He pushed the button again and the red arrows moved forward, many of them converging over time.

  “As the night wears on, our competitors will have no choice but to face off.”

  Winston pressed the button a final time, showing the arrows all converging into one. It led back into the banquet hall.

  “At the end of the night, our winner will walk right through that door-“ he paused and pointed behind him “-and collect this bag containing ten million dollars.”

  He hefted a black leather bag up from the floor and dropped it on the table beside him. It was nowhere near large enough to contain that amount of money, but the point was well received anyway.

  Winston surveyed the room for a moment. He then pressed the next in the line of buttons.

  The schematic behind him vanished. In its place, each of the twelve individual screens held a head shot image of the fighters.

  “In two minutes, the betting machines on your respective tables will become live. At that time you will have ten minutes to make your choices before the action begins.

  “As I mentioned before, you may make bets at any point throughout the evening. It goes without saying, the earlier in the night you bet, the higher the reward.”

  Winston pressed the silver button again and large black numbers appeared over each of the fighters depicting their odds.

  “Right now, it looks like the odds are in favor of the larger contestants. We have installed Boucher as the early favorite with 4-1 odds, followed closely by Maake at 9-2.

  “Behind them are potential dark horses Kekoa and Toulson with matching 6-1 odds and a pair of dames with Aello going off at 10-1 and Li at 12-1.

  “Jaxon is currently set at 15-1 and Xu at an even 20-1. Okahato is right behind him at 22-1. Rounding out the field is Honeycutt and Mandrake each with a generous 25-1.”

  Winston paused and smiled. He pressed a final button and a large red X appeared over Kelly’s image.

  “Check that. Just Honeycutt is set at 25-1.”

  Thirty-Six

  It was over a dozen miles before the GPS told them to make another turn. When it did, it was on to a thin dirt path that was no more than two parallel trails through high weeds.

  “Aw hell, this can’t be good,” Manus muttered.

  “Nope.”

  Manus checked the GPS. “.65 miles remaining on our coordinates.”

  Both men fell silent as Nixon turned up the path. The Expedition’s wide tires and high ground clearance made easy work of the weeds as it pushed along.

  “See there in the headlights? Somebody’s been here,” Manus said, pointing ahead at the bent grass before them.

  “Yeah, but look at the ruts. Two sets.”

  “One coming, one going.”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  Manus drew his mouth into a tight line as the Expedition bounced forward.

  A labyrinth of shadows danced through the forest as the other Expeditions fell in line behind them, their headlights dancing to and fro. Nixon drew the Expedition forward another few hundred yards to a heavy wooden gate.

  “How much further do we have?” Manus asked.

  “.15 miles.”

  Manus hopped from the car and drew his Glock from its holster. He held it with both hands in front of him and crept forward to the gate. The wood was old and visibly rotting in several places. Heavy green moss grew from every exposed surface.

  “Sir! Wait!” A voice behind him shouted.

  Manus stopped as the six Marines materialized in unison, their bodies silhouetted by the headlights behind them.

  “Sir, Lt. Ben Stone,” the first Marine to approach said. “Allow us to move in first.”

  Manus paused for just a moment.

  “What the heck...?” Nixon muttered.

  Stone pulled a pair of night vision goggles down over his eyes and flipped them on. “This is what we’re trained for, sir. This is why they brought us.”

  “He’s right,” Manus said. “We’ll move in on their heels.”

  The other five Marines turned their goggles on as well and formed into a tight semi-circle. Their weapons stood poised in front of them.

  Manus and Nixon fell in behind.

  “You guys wait here. If we need you, we’ll signal,” Manus said over his shoulder. Briggs, Heller, and the Portland agents formed a loose grouping around the gate without objection.

  The Marines crept forward through the woods. Moisture hung heavy in the air and thick moss underfoot silenced all footsteps.

  Just past the gate, Stone held his hand up and the group stopped at once. “Sir, it looks like we’ve got two pairs of footprints flanking two solid lines.” As Stone spoke, he pointed ahead to his right on a slight diagonal.

  “Two people dragging a third,” Manus said.

  “Sure sounds like it,” Nixon agreed.

  “Anything else showing up?”

  “Negative sir," Stone replied. "Not even any wildlife to speak of out here.”

  Manus weighed the info for just a moment. “We’ve got a tenth of a mile left on our coordinates. Follow those prints, and be quick about it.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The Marines moved forward in double time. Manus and Nixon both had to sprint to keep up with them.

  Less than a minute later, the Marines stopped cold. Using hand gestures, Stone sent the others off to either flank. Together they formed a tight circle.

  “What have we got?” Manus asked.

  “I believe we’ve found your agent,” Stone said.

  Manus stepped in front of Stone and into the center of the ring of Marines. Two steps later he was standing on a large circle of blood that was just beginning to dry.

  Lying in the middle of it was Kelly.

  Thirty-Seven

  Heath tried the side door again to no avail. “Well, what do we do now?”

  Will scanned the room. The only other exits were the front and the row of twelve doors across from them.

  Across the foyer the other guests began to filter into their respective rooms. Some went straight through the door and disappeared inside. Some stood outside and traded verbal barbs first.

  Kekoa yelled and smacked a meaty hand to his chest many times. Maake responded with a loud war whoop and stuck his long tongue out into a hooked shape towards his nose.

  Between them, Jannike spat out retorts in Norwegian. She then bent at the waist, tore her skirt off mid-thigh and disappeared through her own door.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Heath asked.

  “Beats the shit out of me.”

  “Try the front door again?”

  Will weighed the option. “You do that, I’m going to run up the stairs and see what I find. Winston has to be getting in and out of here somehow.”

  Without response, Heath
jogged over to the front door and tried it again. Despite placing his feet on the wall and heaving back with all his strength, it would not budge.

  Behind him, he could hear Will give a pained yell followed by a steady torrent of cursing.

  “You alright?” Heath called.

  “Son of a bitch,” Will muttered. “There some sort of electric fence across the top of the stairs.”

  “Anything hurt?”

  “Naw, I’m alright. Just wasn’t expecting 10,000 volts to hit my ass is all," Will said, jabbing a finger at his brother. "And not one word about anything hitting my ass.”

  The corner of Heath’s mouth turned up in a sadistic smile, but he let it go. “Well brother, I think Door Number One is our only option here.”

  “Looks that way.”

  Begrudgingly they walked together to the door marked ‘Honeycutt.’ Will paused for a moment and reached for the handle. “Get busy living or get busy dying.”

  “Definitely not the time to be quoting Shawshank.”

  Will pulled the door open and together they stepped through. For a moment the hallway was total darkness, followed by the sudden blaze of fluorescent lights.

  In front of them stood a grated door of iron bars.

  Behind them, the door to the foyer locked into place.

  Thirty-Eight

  Augy and Julia Klauff sat waiting for the betting machine to make its way around to them.

  An older couple named the Tiberi’s sat to their right, studying the odds on the machine. Across from them, Jonah Murphy sat munching on some stuffed mushrooms. He had explained to them it was the first event he had attended since his wife Marissa passed over a year before.

  It didn’t appear he was quite ready yet.

  “Do you know who we’re going with?” Julia whispered.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  Julia leaned back and gave her husband a disapproving look. “You’ve got a soft spot for Honeycutt don’t you?”

  Augy’s rosy face grew even more red. “Well don’t say it like that! You make it sound like I have an infatuation for the man.”

  Julie threaded her hand through his arm. “Not what I was saying at all...though it would be understandable if you did.”

  “Is that a fact?” Augy asked, giving his wife a playful, disapproving glance.

  “Yes, it is. He, and his brother, were both rather fetching fellows.”

  Arturo Tiberi entered the last of his wagers and slid the machine over to Augy.

  “Pick the winner, did you?” Augy asked.

  “Sure did. After you enter yours we’ll compare and see if you were smart enough to do the same.”

  Augy laughed and entered his user name and pass code into the machine. His name, bank records and available credit appeared on the screen.

  Augy confirmed the information and pressed continue.

  The second screen to pop up showed the same image as the screens on the wall above them. The only difference was below each fighter’s odds were two numbers, one atop the other. The first showed the total amount of money bet on each fighter.

  The bottom was for Augy to enter his wagers.

  Julia pulled close beside him and eyed the numbers. Boucher and Maake were both the early favorites with over five million apiece.

  Honeycutt had a scant $500, no doubt a joke bet. The only person lower than him was the already eliminated Kelly Mandrake.

  Augy glanced at his wife. “What do you think?”

  Julia smiled. “Go for it. You always did have a thing for the long shots.”

  Augy entered his full $100,000 credit for Honeycutt. He then pulled up his banking information and added another $400,000 to make it an even half million.

  Julia raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Around the room, nobody seemed to notice the sudden jump in Honeycutt’s total.

  Augy pushed the machine back into the center of the table just as Winston retook his position in front of the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, the time is at hand. In one minute, we will release the gates and the competition will begin!”

  As he spoke, the other televisions around the room were uncovered revealing a myriad of camera angles from the mansion and grounds.

  “Thirty seconds!”

  The twelve screens showing the fighters changed from their profiles to a live feed. The crowd looked on as many of the fighters stood readying themselves.

  Maake had pulled his black tank top off, revealing more tribal tattoos covering both arms and much of his chest. Boucher removed his flannel shirt and stood in a sleeveless thermal, swinging his arms in front of him.

  Toulson removed his v-neck, showing a sinewy body replete with script tattoos arcing across his shoulder blades and stomach. Okahato and Xu continued to shadowbox while Kekoa pulled off his shirt and slapped at the honey brown skin stretched across his thick chest.

  Li stripped away her hanbok down to a spandex bra and shorts. Like Jannike, Aello removed the bottom half of her skirt, allowing the remainder to swing free around her knees.

  The new Kelly stood staring at the camera, her gaze unwavering.

  Very few of the guests noticed any of this though. Instead, they focused on the two men standing together in Honeycutt’s screen.

  Discord over this started as a ripple, but soon grew into a small swell.

  In the back of the room, the Klauffs watched the discord. Augy raised an eyebrow to his wife, but neither said anything.

  Thirty-Nine

  “Is that your man?”

  “Yeah, that’s Kelly.”

  Manus kneeled beside Kelly’s body and ran the back of his hand across his mouth, biting back bile. Even in the dark of the forest, the gruesome details of the scene were plain to see.

  Kelly was completely naked, three of his four limbs staked out perpendicular to his sides. Deep gashes crossed his arms and legs like railroad tracks, causing most of his blood to have ran onto the grass around him.

  His skin was chalky white and stretched across muscles that just hours earlier had been taut and hard. His eyes stared straight up into the heavens.

  Most pronounced though was the tangle of entrails that lay in a heap on his stomach. Atop them sat the transmitter he’d swallowed just hours before.

  “I’m sorry,” Nixon said.

  “Me too.”

  Manus stared hard at the scene for several minutes. He then forced his mind to push aside the anger and the guilt. “Can I borrow a pair of those goggles?”

  The Marine to the right of Stone pulled his from his head and handed it to Manus.

  The brightness of the image shocked him for a moment as he narrowed his eyes and adjusted to the new view.

  “Anything?” Nixon asked.

  Manus processed the scene as fast as his mind would allow.

  Something wasn’t making sense.

  He circled around to Kelly’s right arm. Unlike his left arm and legs, it didn’t appear to be pinned to the ground.

  Manus reached down and rotated Kelly’s wrist to reveal a hole ripped through the palm of his hand. “He was pinned down, but got his right arm free.”

  Manus rose to full height and swung his foot in a wide arc a few inches above the ground. A moment later, his toe found what he was looking for.

  “The spike is still imbedded in the ground. He must have pulled it the rest of the way through his hand to free himself.”

  “Jesus," Nixon muttered.

  Manus cast a glance at him. “I told you he was good.”

  Manus returned to the hand and examined it again. Aside from the hole through the center, the only abnormality was the entire index finger was stained red.

  “Poor bastard was disemboweled and still had the strength to attempt to free himself," Nixon admired.

  Manus dropped the hand back the way he had found it. The index finger was pointing inward.

  Manus followed the path of the finger to a strip of untouched skin on Kelly’s thigh. “Kelly wasn’t trying to free himself. He kn
ew we’d find him. He was leaving us a message.”

  Nixon stepped into the ring and squatted close to the body. On Kelly’s thigh, drawn with his own blood, was the symbol of a block letter T. Inside it was a small inverted cross.

  Forty

  Winston stepped back away from the podium and sought out Rosner. Around him, the room became increasingly restless. Some stood and shouted. Others pointed. Many remained seated and glanced from one to another.

  “Who the hell is that?” Winston asked.

  “Well obviously I don’t know, but it would appear to be Will Honeycutt and a relative. Given the strong resemblance, I would say a brother.”

  Winston exhaled through his nose several times. “How the hell did this happen?”

  “Again, I don’t know. I would speculate that given the name and resemblance our guards mistook him for Will and let him in.”

  “Fools," Winston hissed. "I’ll have every last one of them killed for this.”

  Rosner remained silent, glancing from the screen to the crowd.

  “And once all the doors are locked...” Winston mumbled.

  “You said it yourself. Nobody gets out until we have a winner.”

  Winston seethed. “This is the kind of thing that will sink us, isn’t it?”

  “Could be.”

  “Could be?”

  “Well, maybe nobody needs to know it was an accident.”

  Winston stared straight ahead and chewed the idea for a moment. “How?”

  “Tell them it was part of the plan.”

  Winston’s eyes glazed, deep in thought. A moment later, he blinked himself alert and strode back to the podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! I apologize in the fullest, it appears I forgot to make you all aware of one small change in the schedule.

  “As many of you know our last competitor, Will Honeycutt, did not join the roster until just this morning. As a result, the committee and I decided it was only fair to allow him one small favor in the spirit of fairness.”