I watch him jog outside and retrieve Gabriella’s phone. She waves to me where I stand in front of the big White Room windows. I wave back. Alistair comes back in and presses it to the wall beneath the window where the box must be hidden behind the baseboard. The Nylo theme begins to play on Gabriella’s phone.
The theme is still playing when we hear a screech of tires from down the street. Two black vans come speeding around the corner. Security guards pour into the house. I am tossed to the ground as Mel and Ed cover me. My face presses into the White Room carpet just as the gunfire starts.
All around me I hear screaming. I try to fight Mel and Ed to see what is going on, but I only manage to turn my head to the side. The noise of gunfire is deafening.
I hear the vans speeding away, tires squealing.
“Somebody follow those vans!” shouts Ed.
“I’m already on it,” says Mel, leaping to his feet and running to the cars parked in front of the house.
I sprint outside to the lawn, expecting the worst. Alistair is right behind me. Gabriella is sitting cross-legged on the lawn. Her eyes are wide.
“They shot right at me,” says Gabriella. “Doors opened up on the side of the vans and they unloaded at me. They were wearing masks. My ears are ringing. I can’t hear my own voice.”
She puts her hand to the side of her jaw and opens her mouth wide, as if trying to pop her ears.
“Impervious to bullets,” she says, almost to herself.
“Is anybody hurt?” I shout. Nobody on the lawn says anything. One of the security guards who didn’t chase after the vans answers his phone when it starts to ring.
“Mel caught them,” he reports. “They weren’t even really trying to run away. He caught them on the next block over.”
The Nylo music sounds again and all three of us take out our phones. Video plays. We see Gabriella’s back as she stands on the lawn like Superman as starburst flashes from automatic weapons light up the afternoon all around her. She drops to the ground, her athleticism showing. The vans squeal away and we see the security guards scrambling.
Alistair and Gabriella and I look at each other. Then we look up at the top window of the summer house.
The angle of the video was taken from up above and behind us. The camera in the video was shaking as it panned: a person was holding the camera. Which means that whoever was taking the video is somewhere inside the house.
35
“Actors,” says Mel, after returning in his car and walking up to us slowly. “It’s a bunch of actors. They’re staying put until the cops arrive. Somebody hired them to shoot at us with blanks.”
I wonder what would have happened if one of us had actually lost. Would we have been taken out by a sniper bullet from upstairs?
“The Game Master is in the building,” I tell Mel and Ed. “On the top floor. Waiting for us. They want us to know they’re there.”
“Then we’ve got them.” Mel’s eyes dart to the top window, then scan the area around the house. “We’ll cover all the exits and wait for the cops to take them out.”
“Somehow I don’t think it will be that easy,” I say with a sigh.
“They’re trapped,” says Alistair. “There are people everywhere here now.”
It’s true. Neighbors are coming out of their houses up and down the street to see what is going on. We can hear police sirens on the way, surely brought here by reports of gunfire.
Our game phones all begin ringing again. Gabriella, Alistair, and I press our heads and shoulders together in a huddle and hold up our phones to see what comes next.
It is more video feed. The Game Master is wearing a Sea Farmers mask. He or she looks just like the iconic trident-wielding Atlantean on the game box. They are holding what appears to be a detonator: a big box with a plunger, right out of a cartoon.
As we watch, a taxi pulls up and my two little girls and Ben get out. I snap my fingers at the security guards and they run over to shield them.
“Keep them back,” I yell to Ed and Mel. Then to Ben, Olivia, and Jane, who should be safely tucked away in an Airbnb in Nantucket, I call, “Why are you here?”
“Mom,” shouts Olivia. “You texted us and told us to meet you here. You said it was an emergency. We flew here on the afternoon plane. What’s going on?”
I didn’t text them. But someone did.
“Everyone’s here then,” comes the Game Master’s modulated voice, blaring tinnily from the three game phones. “Fantastic. That means we can begin. As you might have figured out by now, this entire building is wired to explode and I am holding the detonator. If anybody tries to leave, I will blow the whole place up. Since it is now down to three of you, we can move on to the final challenge. It’s an easy one. The three of you just have to come inside, alone, and come upstairs, where one of you will find your destiny and the others will not. Come unarmed or I will blow everything up. Come right now or I will blow everything up. If anyone tries to leave, I will blow everything up.”
The Game Master is obviously bluffing.
But what choice do we have? We have to end this thing. We have a chance to meet this person in the flesh. To be in the same room with them. To rip the mask off their face and get justice.
I look at my brother and sister.
