“I think you need to reevaluate your definition of the word ‘fake,’” Riot said. “The lack of oxygen in that room was real.”
“You think someone tried to kill us?” Persey asked. Her voice sounded small and frail, despite her efforts to present a strong façade.
“I think…” Riot paused, lips pressed together as if deep in thought. He was choosing his words carefully. “I think Arlo’s right: something about this competition feels off.”
“Look,” Kevin said, his arms thrown wide in supplication, “we got through the challenge, right? We’re all still here. No one’s dead. Let’s just assume that everything that’s happened so far is just part of the competition.”
Persey pictured the whiteboard in Office Drones. If it was accurate—and so far it had proven so—that meant they had seven more escape rooms, including the one that they were in. If the Individual Challenge had proved nearly fatal, what the hell did that say for Boyz Distrikt? Or the rest? Would the challenges escalate in both complexity and danger?
That was a terrifying thought.
“Guys!”
Persey looked up at Neela, who was pointing to the clock on the wall. It had been frozen at thirty-three seconds since Shaun, Riot, Mackenzie, and Kevin had escaped from their ATM booths, but now the red digital numbers had reset themselves to thirty minutes. As Persey watched, the seconds began to count down.
“Another puzzle!” Mackenzie squealed, clapping her hands together like an elated five-year-old watching a magic show. Her dramatic exit from the Individual Challenge was all but forgotten. “I’m so excited!”
Without a word, everyone jumped into action. Shaun strode over to the closest wall and began examining the mounted records while Riot got up close and personal with the collection of posters. Mackenzie strolled aimlessly around the room, gazing here and there like a Realtor assessing the loft for the marketplace, and Neela focused on the computer, clicking through folders and files. Even Wes wheeled his desk chair back up behind Neela, peering somewhat aimlessly at the mixing board beside the desktop.
But Arlo just continued to stare at the backside of the door that had released her—the same Spice Girls poster that Persey had in her bedroom once upon a time—and didn’t move.
Kevin watched her for a moment as if trying to puzzle something out, then got bored. “Any idea what we’re supposed to be looking for?”
No one answered.
Shaun picked the nearest record off the shelf and checked its label, front and back, then turned coldly to Mackenzie, as if she was invading his personal space. “Do you mind?”
“So ‘people person’ isn’t on your dating profile, huh, Shaun-bot?” Kevin said.
Shaun continued to examine the records. “I don’t date.”
“Shocking,” Kevin muttered as he sat down on one of the sofas and picked up a video game controller. “Nintendo 64? Sweet! I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid.”
Persey crouched down beside him, reading the label of the game cartridge in the machine. “Mortal Kombat Trilogy.”
“I love this game.” Kevin fired up the machine. “It has the Star Bridge and you can unlock new characters if you have the hidden code, plus there are these secret menus. All kinds of crazy shit. Way better than the PlayStation version.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be a guide or something in these escape rooms?” Persey asked, recalling the actor from the Hidden Library, dressed as the ghost of a Cistercian monk, who explained what the group’s goal should be and helped corral them toward the initial clues. “So we know what we’re looking—”
Before she could finish, a singing voice rang out strong and clear.
“Welcome to the Boyz Distrikt!”
AT FIRST, PERSEY THOUGHT THE SINGING MUST BE coming through the loudspeakers, like the voice of the countdown, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement at the top of the stairs. Someone new had joined them.
He was young, Persey was pretty sure: even though he wore aviator glasses that hid his eyes, his baby face was clean-shaven and wrinkle-free. But despite his youthful appearance, his outfit, just like the room they were in, was painfully dated. His spiky hair was frosted at the tips, and he wore baggy acid-wash jeans that were at least one size too big, cinched at the waist with a leather belt. He’d paired those jeans with a “Hollister, CA” T-shirt beneath a dark denim jacket with the confusing addition of a tweed men’s suit vest—similar to the one Riot wore—over both, and peeking out from the hem of his jeans was a distinctive yellow-beige pair of Timberlands.
“Where did he come from?” Riot asked.
“He’s on your side of the room,” Shaun said. “Didn’t you see?”
“I believe our visitor entered through the main set of doors,” Neela said. “Though I neither saw nor heard them open. Most likely some ingenious design made so that he would seem to appear out of thin air.”
“Do you narrate the world with every single thought that pops into your head?” Mackenzie asked. “Or are you some kind of witch just making shit up as you go?”
“Aha!” Neela said, forcing a laugh before Persey could jump to her defense. “The black arts! I do not partake of them, good madam.”
“Don’t you want to know what the Boyz Distrikt is?” the newcomer sang, sounding confused by their lack of immediate interest.
“I suppose you’re going to tell us!” Kevin warbled in an off-key response, his voice crackling with suppressed laughter.
“My name is Beeeee Jaaaaay,” he sang, stretching out the syllables of “B.J.” “And I’m a member of…” He paused, swinging down to one knee and cupping his chin with his hand like he was posing for a photo shoot. “Boyz Distrikt!”
“I think we’re supposed to ask what Boyz Distrikt is,” Arlo said flatly, her former bossiness returning.
“Ab-so-lute-ly!” B.J. sang. This wasn’t going to be annoying (torture) or anything….
But Shaun answered for him, pointing to one of the framed records on the wall. “They’re a band. ‘Distrikt’ with a k.”
B.J. leaped back to his feet. “Because everything spelled with a K is”—he took a breath—“special.” He let out a melismatic R&B vocal run on the first syllable that made Persey’s head spin.
“Swoon,” Mackenzie said, approaching B.J. with one of her signature smiles. “I actually love boy bands. For reals. And your voice is en pointe.” As if flirting with the paid Escape-Capades employee was going to help her in any way. “Now can you tell us what we’re supposed to be looking for?”
It was the cue B.J. had been waiting for. He pulled a handheld remote from the pocket of his jeans, pointed it at the computer Neela had been poring over, and clicked a button. Immediately, a techno beat filled the room’s speakers, and B.J., using the top of the stairs like a stage, launched into a carefully choreographed dance routine while he sang along to a familiar tune.
“Everybody,
Listen to me.
Together,
You must find the key.
Boyz Distrikt knows what’s right!”
“Sweet baby Jesus,” Riot said. “Is he doing Backstreet Boys?”
Kevin kicked his legs up on the sofa. “I wish I had some popcorn. This show is epic.”
“Shh!” Shaun hissed. “Some of us are trying to listen.”
Persey had gotten half-lost in the song-and-dance number. B.J. was actually pretty talented. His dance moves were sharp, his singing voice on key, and she wondered if he’d moved to Vegas to try to get a job in one of the many Broadway shows installed in various casinos.
“Oh my God, you’re back again.
Brothers, sisters, you should listen.
I’m gonna tease the exit, show you how.
I’ve got some questions for you, better answer now.”
She perked up, sensing that important clues were forthcoming. “Can someone write this down?”
“On it!” Neela opened a text document on the computer and typed quickly while B.J.
sang.
“Am I unlocked by code?
Am I a song you know?
Am I the hidden choice?
Am I twelve tones that you need?
You better play your song right now!
Everybody…”
Then he looped back to the opening chorus and struck a dramatic spread-eagle pose as the music ended.
“Bravo! Encore!” Kevin rocketed to his feet, applauding enthusiastically.
But Mackenzie looked disappointed. “That didn’t even rhyme.”
“Not really the point.” Arlo began pacing back and forth, her anger with Leah and Escape-Capades forgotten when there was a situation where she could take control. “Something unlocked by a code. I think that’s where we start.”
“The ATMs?” Riot suggested.
“Maybe,” Wes said. “But we already solved that, so why give it to us again?”
“It could be a starting point,” Neela suggested. “The next line refers to a hidden choice. So what could be a hidden choice in this room?”
It was the word “hidden” that triggered Persey’s memory. “Hey,” she said, tapping Kevin on the arm. “When you were talking about this video game, what did you say about it?”
Kevin scrunched up his face. “I don’t remember.”
“Then clearly it wasn’t important,” Wes sneered.
Persey ignored him. “Something about unlocking characters with a hidden code?”
“DUDE!” Kevin said, his eyes wide. “Yes!”
Wes stiffened, unwilling to admit that Persey might be onto something. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why would it be ridiculous?” Neela asked, joining Persey and Kevin at the television. “B.J., what did you say about things spelled with the letter K?”
B.J. shifted his pose, dropping one hand to his side and laying the other on his heart as he took a deep breath. “They’re speh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-shul!” he sang.
“Right.” Persey smiled. “Mortal Kombat with a K.”
“Shit,” Arlo said, rushing over. “I think this is it.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Fuck this,” Wes said, and wandered off toward the back of the loft. Which was fine. Persey was pretty (completely) sure he was useless in the face of a challenge anyway.
Mackenzie elbowed past Persey and sat down on the sofa next to Kevin, leaning possessively on his arm. “Do you know how to do it?”
He winked at her. “I know how to do a lot of things.”
“Ew.” Persey couldn’t help herself.
“Jealous?” Kevin asked.
Double ew.
Shaun snatched the controller out of Kevin’s hand. “We don’t have time for flirting,” he said, firing up the game. “We need to figure this out.”
“You sure you know how to use that thing?” Kevin asked, eying Shaun skeptically. “You gonna plug it directly into your USB port?”
Neela snorted. “There were no USB game controllers in 1998!”
“I know my way around a Nintendo,” Shaun said.
Persey was getting tired of the posturing. It didn’t matter who solved the puzzle—it only mattered that they did. “Yeah, but do you know how to get to the screen where you can unlock the secret characters?”
Shaun pursed his lips, wavered, then handed the controller to Kevin.
“That’s what I thought,” Mackenzie said, leaning on Kevin possessively.
With an impressively deft sequence of clicks and joystick swivels, Kevin eventually brought up a fighting challenge. The game announcer laughed ominously as play began, and Persey quickly found Mortal Kombat to be true to its name: two combatants fought to the death in a vaguely Asian-inspired setting. Kevin had obviously invested (wasted) many hours of his life in this game, or one like it, and in less than five minutes, his character—a guy in a big white hat who could apparently harness the power of lightning—beat his reptilian ninja opponent by electrocuting him until his entire body exploded and rained down around the victor as severed limbs and bone.
“That’s disgusting,” Mackenzie said, wrinkling her nose.
Kevin’s character was celebrating his victory on the screen. “Be thankful I didn’t pull his spine out. Now watch this.” Pressing a series of buttons, the voice on the video game said, “Outstanding,” before Kevin opened up a secret menu. “These are the new characters,” he said, highlighting them one at a time. “Human Smoke and Khameleon.” He turned both of their options from off to on, then returned to the regular game play.
“Is that it?” Shaun asked.
Kevin shrugged. “I guess.”
“Great,” Arlo said, turning her back on the screen as Kevin continued to play, weighing in with his own commentary. “We opened new characters. Now what? We watch numbnuts play until the clock bottoms out?”
“Remind you of your average Friday night?” Kevin asked, his eyes still locked onto the TV screen as he used his body to mimic the moves he was trying to make with the controller, leaning left, then zigging right.
They’d revealed the new characters, which was hopefully the first part of the puzzle. “Neela, what’s the next line?”
“‘Am I a song you know?’” she quoted, repeating it from memory.
“Human Smoke and Khameleon,” Riot mused. His hand crept to his Mohawk and patted the tips to make sure it was still standing at pointy attention. “Can anyone name that tune?”
Neela rushed back to the wall of records. “Maybe it references one of these.” She picked the closest record off the shelf. “‘Tearin’ Up My Heart,’” she read.
“’NSYNC,” Mackenzie replied.
Riot joined her at the wall, starting from the other end. “‘Step by Step.’”
Mackenzie knew that one too. “New Kids on the Block.”
“‘Because of You,’” Riot asked, as if testing her.
Mackenzie never hesitated. “Ninety-Eight Degrees.”
“‘I Wanna Sex You Up.’”
Kevin sucked in a breath. “So. Many. Jokes.”
“Color Me Badd.”
“‘End of the Road’?”
“Oh my fuck!” Arlo cried, rolling her eyes. “We get it. She’s a nineties-boy-band savant. Woo-fucking-hoo.”
“Boyz II Men,” Mackenzie whispered.
Neela paused with a record in her hand. “‘Chameleon’?”
“I said, Boyz II Men,” Mackenzie repeated, raising her voice.
“No, this record. It’s called ‘Karma Chameleon.’ One of the characters we unlocked was named Khameleon.”
Persey was pretty sure that song was not by a nineties boy band. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s nah-ah-ah-ah-aht!” B.J. yanked off his aviator glasses and winked at them; in the far corner of the room, Persey saw Wes flinch.
“That is an old song by Culture Club,” Shaun said.
Neela shook her head, examining the album. “This says it’s by Boyz Distrikt.”
“Really?”
“From the album…” Neela’s voice trailed off as she stared at the record.
“From the album what?” Persey asked.
“Distrikt by Numbers. I think I saw that file name on the computer.”
As Neela rushed back to the computer, B.J. danced toward the back of the loft, where Wes was sulking, using a series of boy band moves as he slid and shimmied his way around the desk, sofas, and television set. “You think ri-ri-right. Right right.”
“Ten minutes.”
They weren’t close enough to a solution. They weren’t going to make it. What will happen then?
“Here it is!” Neela cried, opening the folder. An “enter password” box came up and Persey felt the press of bodies behind her as people gathered around the computer screen.
“Password protected,” Mackenzie said with a defeated sigh. “We’re screwed.”
Riot wasn’t about to give up. He pointed at Kevin. “What’s the key sequence? To open the new characters in Mortal Kombat?”
�
��Uh…” Kevin glanced at the ceiling, thinking. “Left, right, A, B, B. Pretty sure.”
Neela didn’t need to be told what to do. She was already typing it in. “L, R, A, B, B.” Persey held her breath as the folder popped open, revealing a single song file inside labeled “No Escape.” When Neela clicked on it, a music player opened and loaded the file, starting the song immediately.
It had a techno beat similar to the Backstreet Boys tune B.J. had sung earlier, but the melody and lyrics were different, and though Persey wasn’t a musician, it sounded as if this song was made up entirely of a simple chorus, looped over and over again.
“Sound familiar at all, Mack?” Wes asked, rejoining the group. He seemed way too comfortable using a nickname for someone he’d just met.
Mackenzie shook her head. “No. This one’s an original.”
“‘Am I twelve tones that you need?’” Neela said, quoting B.J.’s introductory song. “‘You better play your song right now.’”
Persey’s eyes drifted to the Casio keyboard beside the mixing board. “I think we’re supposed to play the first twelve notes of this song.” She spun toward the back of room, where B.J. had ended up after dancing his way across the loft. “Is that—”
Persey froze. She’d intended to ask their guide if they were on the right track since she didn’t believe Leah really wanted anyone to fail this competition just yet, but instead of seeing the melodious boy band member leaning against the brick wall in some kind of character-appropriate pose, she saw his pair of Timberlands sticking out from behind the sofa, toes pointed at the ceiling, motionless.
“Anyone know how to play the piano?” Kevin said.
“Guitar,” Riot said.
“Flute,” Neela added.
Mackenzie elbowed him aside and stood before the keyboard. “Um, hello! Royal College of Music.”
“Guys,” Persey said, taking a few tentative steps toward the brick wall. She didn’t like the way B.J.’s body appeared totally and utterly still. “I think something’s wrong.”
#NoEscape (Volume 3) (#MurderTrending) Page 11