by Jack Heath
You keep your feet apart and your hips low. You’re surfing on a giant shark. This is insane.
With a scraping, grinding sound, the shark comes to a sudden halt. You lose your grip on the fin and hurtle through the air, spinning around and around, and then—
Splash! You hit the water and immediately slam into the sand beneath it. The water is barely half a metre deep.
You sit up, spluttering, in time to see the shark chomp its mammoth jaws at you …
But it can’t reach. It’s too big, and the water’s too shallow. In its desperation to reach you, the shark has beached itself like a lost whale. It gasps, eyes rolling. It’s suffocating.
You crawl away, dragging yourself up out of the shallows. You collapse on the beach amongst the charred sticks and rubble. You’re safe.
“Hey!”
You turn your head. Shelley is sprinting across the beach towards you. She survived! The others are running right behind her.
In the distance, the shark squirms and wriggles. At first you think it’s trying to get to you, but it’s not. It slides backwards farther and farther until there’s enough water under it to turn around. Then it swims out into the open sea and disappears.
The ocean looks safe and peaceful once more.
00:00
You survived! There are twelve other ways to escape the danger — try to find them all!
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08:10
You sprint across the stepping stones, desperate to reach Harrison before the croc does. Even though the creature is huge — at least six metres long — it moves amazingly quickly through the now-murky water. There’s every chance it will reach Harrison before you do. But it’s too late to change your mind.
“Grab my hand!” you shout as you get closer and closer to Harrison, who’s screaming like a terrified monkey.
He reaches out, and you grab his wrist, hauling him up on the stepping stones. You both run the rest of the way across to the forest, shoes squelching, clothes dripping.
But the crocodile doesn’t give up. It slides up the riverbank like a nightmare come to life and bounds into the trees after you. Maybe you could outrun it on an Olympic racetrack, but not here. The forest, with its muddy trails and tripping hazards, is the croc’s domain.
The trail forks up ahead on either side of a deep ditch. You go right. Harrison goes left. You wonder if he knows something you don’t, and selfishly hope the croc follows him.
It doesn’t. You can hear the thudding of its feet against the dirt behind you. The beast is catching up.
And now you see why it chose to run after you rather than Harrison. A rockfall has blocked the trail up ahead. You could scramble over the pile of stones, but probably not fast enough.
You turn around. Harrison watches helplessly from the other side of the ditch. He’s out of reach. You’re on your own.
The rampaging croc runs at you, jaws frothing.
If you took the matches from the box back at the camp, click here.
If you took the rope instead, click here.
04:07
The sand squeaks under your feet as you sprint towards the trees. But you don’t want to go too far, since the explosion might pick up rocks from the forest floor and throw them around like bullets.
The massive oak tree is just ahead. You hope it’s strong enough to withstand the blast.
You duck around it just in time.
The bomb explodes in the ocean behind you, filling the sky with sizzling droplets and clouds of steam. The sand erupts like a volcano, flinging hot debris past your hiding place. The sound hits you a split second later — a tremendous KABOOM that shakes the ground beneath your feet.
The mighty oak groans, straining under the pressure from the blast. It tilts a little but seems to hold. Maybe you should get out from under it — but the echoes of the explosion haven’t yet died away, and suddenly it’s raining hot water. The sea is coming back down, and it will burn you.
If you leave the shelter of the tree, click here.
If you stay where you are, click here.
16:03
You duck into the bushes, feeling Stacey’s eyes on you. You wonder if she thinks you’re a coward.
After a few seconds the two big men emerge from the trees on the other side of the clearing.
“Which trigger went off?” one asks.
“That one,” the other says, pointing at the bushes you’re hiding behind. “I’ll check on the feed.”
The first guy walks in your direction. Where is the laser tripwire? What if he sees you?
You’re paralyzed, deciding whether to run or stay.
Too late. The big man’s ice-blue eyes focus on you. “Hey!” he roars. “It’s the kid!”
You scramble backwards through the shrubbery, but not fast enough. The man takes three big strides on his long legs, reaches down through the leaves with a massive arm and grabs the collar of your wetsuit.
“Gotcha!” he says, lifting you up.
Whack! Something hits him. He lets go of you and collapses.
You fall to the ground beside him and watch in amazement as Agent Stacey turns to face the other mercenary. Somehow she’s gotten free of her bonds, crossed the clearing and knocked your captor out.
The other guy swings a meaty fist at her. She ducks under the blow, grabs his arm and flings him over her shoulder in some kind of judo throw. He hits the dirt with a thud and doesn’t get up again.
Stacey digs through his pockets until she finds a phone. Her backpack is lying at the edge of the clearing. She grabs it and puts it on.
“But you were tied up,” you stammer.
“They thought I was. Come on.” Stacey hauls you to your feet. “We have to get back out to the oil platform.”
“Wait,” you say. “We?”
She nods. “I can’t pilot the hovercraft by myself.”
“Hovercraft?!”
Click here.
02:06
You keep the burning stick held high, flooding the floating tent with as much hot air as possible. But you’re losing altitude, fast. There’s not much temperature difference between the air inside the balloon and the air outside it, so it’s struggling to stay aloft.
The cliffs are only twenty or thirty metres away. After that you’ll be over the open ocean, where the water will break your fall and you can swim back to the shore.
But the trees beneath you are getting closer and closer. Hitting them at this speed would be fatal.
You’re not going to make it to the ocean. A tree rushes up to meet you. At the last second you drop your makeshift torch and reach out, hoping to grab a branch before you crash into the trunk—
Whack!
You know nothing more.
THE END.
Click here to go back and try again!
04:59
“OK, OK!” You walk over to the door, unlock it and open it.
One of the security guards drags you out to the deck. You’re sweating under your wetsuit. What if you’ve made a terrible mistake? They might kill you both.
The man in the suit doesn’t even look at you. He’s watching through the window as the numbers on the screen tick down.
00:02.
00:01.
00:00.
“Well,” he says, “That’s it.”
Nothing happens at first. Then the screens that were monitoring the campsite go black. A message pops up: NO SIGNAL.
A distant rumble fills the air. It gets louder and louder until the floor starts to shake beneath your feet.
“Get down!” Stacey cries.
You flop to the metal floor. The man in the suit yells something, but you’re not sure what. One of the security guards slips over and lands headfirst on the ground next to you. His eyes roll back. A pink bruise swells up on his temple.
The thunder fades. If your friends were in the tents, they’re dead now. You feel sick.
“What happened?” the boss demands. “The explosio
n wasn’t supposed to affect the rig.”
“The mercenaries must have laid the charges in the wrong place,” one of the security guards says.
“Speaking of laying charges,” Agent Stacey says, “did I mention that you’re all under arrest?”
The boss points a stubby finger at her. “You are in no position to—”
A deafening creak interrupts him. The whole mining platform is groaning.
“Is it supposed to do that?” you ask.
No one gets the chance to answer you. The whole structure lurches sideways. The floor tilts to a violent angle, throwing you and everyone else against the shipping container.
“The rig is collapsing!” a security guard shouts.
The boss herds his security people towards the stairs. “Go, go, go!”
Agent Stacey wipes the blood off her face and drags you to your feet. “Come on!”
You follow her. It’s pandemonium on the main deck. People run back and forth all over the platform, yelling confusing orders at one another. The whole rig has tilted, leaving the walkways at crazy angles. Stairs are vertical, ladders are horizontal. One of the support struts under the platform must be sinking into the ocean floor.
The boss and his security team have forgotten all about you and Stacey. They’re scaling a wobbling ladder to a helipad. The helicopter is sliding sideways across the landing pad as the oil platform tilts more and more.
Other people are jumping off the edge of the platform into the water. Because of the way the oil rig is shifting and tilting, from this corner it’s only a ten or fifteen metre drop into the ocean.
“This way,” Stacey yells, heading the other way. She runs up the slope and scales a flight of stairs. Why is she going up? Shouldn’t you both be trying to get off the rig as quickly as possible?
If you jump into the water with the other workers, click here.
If you follow Stacey, click here.
08:04
You grab the steel cable. It’s somehow slippery and rough at the same time. How did Stacey climb this so easily?
The underside of the rig looks impossibly high up — but the sputtering of tranquilizer guns above gives you an adrenalin rush. Another dart hits the hovercraft. You can’t see where the shot came from, and you don’t stick around to find out. You start climbing the cable.
It’s a tough climb. The steel fibres burn your hands. You’re not making much headway …
Until you accidentally kick the harpoon gun.
The cable starts to retract. The gun whizzes up towards you. You let go of the cable just in time to avoid getting your fingers sucked into the mechanism — but you catch hold of the gun barrel instead. It drags you up and up to the underside of the oil rig until it thunks against the harpoon embedded in the steel.
The hovercraft starts to float away below, now that the gun isn’t connecting it to the rig.
You hang there for a moment. No one can see you, so the gunshots have stopped. But you can’t dangle up here forever. Your shoulders and biceps already ache.
The hatch Stacey climbed through is right above you. The shooters must know where you are. It’s only a matter of time before they open the hatch and find you.
There’s no choice but to push the hatch open and pull yourself up.
When you clamber through into the daylight, you find yourself on a massive steel platform, criss-crossed with ladders, walkways and staircases. It’s a maze. You see Stacey running along some scaffolding above, but you can’t figure out how to get to her.
Ping! Another ballistic dart ricochets off a handrail right near your arm. The shooter, perched in a distant lookout, starts reloading her tranquilizer rifle. You turn and run up the nearest staircase, desperate to get out of sight.
A PA system crackles and whines. “Attention crew. We have two wanted criminals on board.”
The voice echoes around the platform, bouncing back at you from all possible angles. It takes you a minute to realize he’s talking about you.
“Return to your quarters,” the voice continues, “and lock your doors while security apprehends the intruders. If you see them, pull the nearest fire alarm.”
You circle around a massive stack of barrels, trying to break the shooter’s line of sight. You find yourself face to face with a terrified-looking man in overalls and a hard hat.
He reaches for a red handle on the wall.
You raise your hands. “Don’t! Please — I’m not a criminal! I’m just a kid!”
The guy pulls the handle. An alarm shrieks as he sprints the other way.
You flee up another flight of stairs towards a row of shipping containers packed side by side. Your bare feet clang against the metal as you climb. When you get closer to the shipping containers, you realize they’re actually being used as rooms — windows and door frames have been cut into them.
Ping! A dart strikes the corrugated wall near your head. Forget about getting tranquilized — a shot like that could take out your eyeball. You need somewhere to hide.
You turn to the closest shipping container and try the door. Locked. You run to the next container and pull another handle.
The door opens. You dive through, pull it closed behind you and lock it.
The container is full of computers. Cables trail from droning towers and crackling speakers to big antennas and phones with hundreds of buttons. A dozen monitors show people moving about the oil platform —
And the campsite. You can see the tents, the clothes line, the smouldering remains of the bonfire. The whole time you and your friends were having fun at surf camp, someone was watching you through hidden cameras.
You can’t see your friends on the screens. They could be inside the tents — or maybe up at the lookout.
Someone tries to open the door, but it’s still locked. There’s a table up against the window — you duck beneath it so no one can see you from outside.
“Hey,” a muffled voice says. “Kid.”
You stay out of sight, heart pounding.
“I know you’re in there.” It sounds like the same guy who called you a criminal over the PA. “You have thirty seconds to come out — or your friend dies.”
Leaning slightly out from under the table, you risk a peek out the window. Behind it stands a grey-haired man with a cleft chin and floppy jowls. He wears a charcoal suit, the shoulders and sleeves tailored to his frame. He has the look of a boss — a mean one.
He’s not alone. There are two uniformed security guards — and Agent Stacey. She’s on her knees. One of the guards is holding her by the back of her neck. Her nose is bleeding.
“You now have ten seconds,” the man in charge says.
Your breaths get tighter. Neither the boss nor the guards seem to have any weapons. But Stacey doesn’t look like she’s in a position to defend herself.
“Eight seconds,” the boss continues.
“Don’t do it,” Stacey says. “You have to stop the—”
The security guard clamps a hand over her mouth.
“Five,” the man says, as though she hadn’t spoken.
Your mind is racing. If you stay, they’ll kill Stacey. But if you leave, they might kill both of you.
“Four,” the man says.
Why does he want you out of the room so badly? And what was Stacey trying to tell you?
You follow her gaze to one of the computer monitors. Instead of a video feed, it has a timer, counting down to something. And some text: PRESS ANY KEY TO CANCEL DETONATION.
The timer ticks over from 00:29 to 00:28.
“Three,” the man says.
If you touch the keyboard nearest the screen, you’d definitely be sacrificing Agent Stacey’s life to maybe stop the explosion, and maybe save your friends.
“Two,” the man says.
If you walk out of the room and save Stacey’s life, click here.
If you touch a key on the keyboard, click here.
28:43
“All right, Seth. My name is Agent St
acey,” the woman says. “I’ve come to warn everyone at the camp — you’re all in danger.”
Her eyes are unreadable behind her sunglasses.
“What kind of danger?” you ask.
“I’ll explain on the way.”
She turns towards the long, spiky grass in front of the forest. Two paths are visible. The left one goes directly to the camp site. The right one trails through the forest and eventually leads to a lookout on top of the cliffs.
“What’s the quickest way to the campsite?” she asks.
Your gaze falls on her battered boat. Small circular holes are scattered among the scratches and dents. “Are those bullet holes?”
“My GPS got broken when I escaped,” she says, ignoring your question. “I need you to show me the fastest way to the camp from here, right now.”
If this woman is dangerous, leading her to camp could put your friends at risk. You could take her up the other path to the lookout, instead. Lots of tourists will be around there. You’ll be safe.
Do you lead her left to the camp, or right to the lookout? Make your choice, and click here.
02:08
You ignore Stacey and run into the crowd of mining workers. They’re grabbing flotation devices from an emergency-equipment box bolted to the floor. If any of them notices you — the “criminal” they were supposed to be watching out for a moment ago — they don’t say anything.
You grab a life jacket from the box and pull it over your head. All sorts of whistles, lights and buckles hang from it, but eventually you find the strap that goes around your waist. You connect the clips.
“What about the megalodon?” someone yells.
“We’ll have to risk it,” someone else replies.
You’re about to ask what a “megalodon” is when the worker in front of you pulls a cord. His life jacket inflates with a hiss. You do the same. Whoosh! The jacket swells up around your neck. You can barely see over the top of it — you must be wearing it backwards.