Whitney struggled with the small tank of anhydrous ammonia as she carried it toward the fountain in the front of the mansion. It was only about the size of a large water bottle, but it was still surprisingly heavy.
It had a lever, as if it could be sprayed on command. She kept it pointed away from her, ready to pull the trigger if needed. She didn’t know whom or what she would find at the fountain and she wanted to be ready for anything.
When she finally arrived, she first assumed she’d chosen poorly. Nobody was there. There was nothing in the fountain at all on first glance. But then she eventually saw several broken shards of glass on the bottom.
She set down her anhydrous tank and reached into the surprisingly cold water. She carefully lifted out the three shards of glass. Each was about the size of her palm. At first they looked like plain shards of clear glass, but when she looked closer she realized that there was writing etched very faintly into the glass surface.
It took several tries, but eventually she was able to get the shards arranged so that the faint etchings combined to form a few coherent sentences: “Don’t turn around, there is nothing to fear. Please keep going, the end of the game is near.”
Keep going? Where? What did that mean? She thought about it, and after several minutes, she realized there really was only one answer: keep going in the direction she had been going in to get there. She looked up and looked straight ahead beyond the fountain.
Whitney found herself looking directly at the entrance to the trail leading down to the beach. She picked up her anhydrous tank and continued her journey toward the beach.
When she got down to the sandy shore and found nobody waiting, she wasn’t sure what to do next. So she simply waited. She found a spot in the shade behind a small tree and waited.
Waited.
For what or whom or when, she wasn’t sure. But when it happened, she’d be ready.