Sam’s back hit the cell bars with a clang, his mind blown open.
As strong as LSD. Sure, they’d taken a few hits of weed here and there—who in L.A. hadn’t? But he’d never done any drugs stronger than that. Thinking back over the last few days, he was pretty sure he’d seen the stuff everywhere. In the backyard, growing all over the property, an odd-smelling plant dripping with flowers, in the candles, in the food…
Even now, Sam was sure it was in his system. He hadn’t felt whole since they’d first arrived at the Belle Estate. So, did this mean the Dark Man he’d been seeing everywhere wasn’t real? His brain had made it up? Considering Colby had experienced a totally different hallucination, it made sense that the salvia affected them each differently. Apparently, Alex had been affected the same way Trey had—by turning into a dumbass.
Though Sam knew it wasn’t his fault, it still made Alex, at this very moment, Enemy #1. If Sam and Colby wanted to get out alive, they’d have to defeat one of their best friends. Ugh. The very idea made him sick. He hated Georgia and even Clint for doing this to them, for turning them against each other, for taking their friendship trip and turning it into The Hunger Games.
An hour more went by, as Sam mulled over his options, watching Alex skulk around the dungeon, lighting candles, muttering how Trey had instructed him to do so. He even lit up a dry bundle of salvia—a smudge stick as the witches called them—and blew out the flame, letting the smoldering smoke fill the basement.
Great. More inhalation of the stuff.
Across from him, Colby sighed, as he looked helplessly at Sam, but Sam turned away. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily fall into despair just looking at his best friend’s downtrodden expression. Sam had always taken on his friends’ feelings as his own, especially Colby’s, and he couldn’t afford to fall into depression.
Sam carefully focused on Alex’s methodical movements instead. When he was done walking around the room, doing Trey and Georgia’s bidding like a fool, he proceeded to climb up and down each of the four unblocked stairwells that formed the star, shaking the gated entrances that Sam couldn’t see but knew were there from the way they rattled each time Alex shook one.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“Checking to see if they’re coming,” he replied. “It’s getting dark out.”
Soon it’d be sunset. After that, they only had a few hours to live. Escape, he corrected himself. Although Sam had no idea how to do that, but if he wanted to live, every thought that crossed his mind had to be about survival.
In the middle circle, Nate had opened his eyes and begun wriggling slowly, as he strained against the ropes strapping him down.
“Hey, brother. Welcome to hell,” Colby muttered. “Not that we’re blaming you or anything. Just saying.”
Sam’s heart ached for Nate. At least in this cell, Sam could move around freely. He expected Nate to scream in horror when he saw where he was, but he only spent the first few minutes of his cognizant state watching Alex do his thing. Finally, he blinked a few times and chuckled to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.
“I am so writing a bad review of this place when I get out of here.”
“Too bad you’re not getting out anytime soon,” Alex replied.
Nate’s right cheek pressed into the dirty concrete floor away from Alex’s earshot. “Too bad you left one gateway open.” He winked at Sam, then laughed and laughed, each peal more cacophonous than the next.
Nate’s lost his shit, Sam thought.
In his body, he felt the stirrings of his bladder but refused to use the human skull bowls thrown into the cell’s corners. The fact that he even had to consider it, that he was even in this predicament, swelled inside his chest. Sam had always prided himself on his ability to stay calm, but that only meant the anger would explode one day.
He picked today.
“Hey, Alex. What do I do when I need to take a fat shard?” he asked, as a low laugh rumbled from Colby’s chest. Even as they faced death, they could still laugh.
“Go in your cell. I can’t help you.”
“Of course you can’t. But bro, really? You wouldn’t go in a bowl, and you know it. Come on, let me use a real bathroom. Where is it anyway?”
Alex tilted his head but didn’t say no.
“Bro, come on. It’s nasty. Is that your last wish for me? That my last dump be taken inside a human skull? Give me some dignity. I paid for this trip after all. You wouldn’t be getting fame, riches, and everlasting life from the Dark Lord if it weren’t for me bringing you to his doorstep.”
“And me.” Colby lifted a hand.
“Come on, you can watch me the whole time to make sure I don’t escape, even though that’s weird.” It was all Sam could do, appeal to Alex’s sense of fastidious cleanliness, being the guy who couldn’t use a public bathroom himself. He wasn’t even sure Alex had that kind of power. For all Sam knew, only Trey or Georgia had the keys to anything important around here.
Apparently not.
Alex fished a key out of his pocket, eyed Sam carefully, then proceeded to slowly push the key into the lock and twist the handle open. Everybody in the basement held their breaths. Colby stared slack-jawed at Sam, a silent question on his lips. Should he do anything to help? Should he run out now that the cell door was open a few inches?
Sam gave him a barely discernible shake of his head. Once he’d stepped out, Alex slammed the cell door back up, locking it quickly. He escorted Sam, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward. When they reached one of the five corners of the basement, Alex shoved Sam into a room the size of a closet with a smelly toilet and closed the metal door. From the shadows moving along the bottom gap, Sam knew he was guarding the only way out.
His heart pounded, blood whooshing through his veins.
Sam didn’t have to use the bathroom. In fact, he was pretty damn dehydrated to even need to go, but at least he had a few minutes to think about and concoct his next move. He was out—out of the cell—and that was a minor victory in and of itself.
In the pure darkness of the space, he could feel skitterings, insects or spiders, maybe even a small mouse, but Sam couldn’t freak out right now. He had to stay focused. He had minutes, maybe only seconds, until Trey and Georgia returned, and then it’d be too late. At least in this moment, he only had Alex to deal with, but that may have been worse. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, no matter how under the influence he was.
The door popped open a crack. “You done yet?”
“Just about,” Sam replied. Holding his breath, sitting alone with his potential energy, he muttered a prayer. If he got out of this alive, he’d appreciate life more. He’d do more things to help people. He’d be a good person. Even better, more grateful, than he was now. He’d learned a lot about kindness since his Vine days, and if given the chance, he wouldn’t waste it.
Standing, his aching head hit the closet ceiling. He breathed slowly, preparing for whatever came next. Filled with adrenaline, he slowly pushed the metal door open. “Thanks, man. I needed that so badly.”
Alex stepped aside to let him come out.
Sam nodded a thanks.
And then he smashed the metal door into Alex’s face. Once, twice, three times until Alex slumped to the ground, hands over his head. “I’m so sorry, man,” Sam said, running first to one stairwell, then to the other. “Shit, which is it?”
“That one!” Colby pointed to the third stairwell, the one Nate had mentioned was unlocked. Like an ape in a cage, Colby gripped the cell bars and jumped up and down. “Hurry up, he’s getting up!”
Sam bolted into the third stairwell, climbing the steps two, three at a time until he reached the top and burst through the loose grate into the sweet, fresh outdoors, Alex gaining behind him. Blood dripped from his temple, but there was no time to feel guilty. Sam searched for a way to lock the gate but couldn’t see how to do it without a padlock, so he grabbed a large fallen palm frond and shoved it into the stairwell to hit and distract Alex who was already near the top. Alex staggered back a bit, while Sam grabbed another palm frond and rigged it underneath the door handles.
Yes, that would hold, but not for long. He grabbed another, and another, as many as he could find around the edges of the gazebo—the gazebo…that was where one entrance was? Yes, last night when they’d heard a scream. Maybe it’d been Kalani or Pauahi. Maybe it’d really been Georgia and Trey before they’d tried to shove Sam and Colby in here last night.
The blockade was good enough. It’d hold for two minutes max.
Sam found himself on a familiar path. He could either run toward the lagoon and hide, find his way out toward shore, or bolt toward either side of the property to find his way out. But he had no time to think. Coming from the opposite side of the patio was Trey, carrying extra coils of rope. The moment he saw Sam, he dropped the rope and charged toward him.
Sam did the only thing he could—bolted into the house and locked the sliding glass door. No, he didn’t want to be back inside the house, but it would keep Trey outside and give Sam another moment to think. Trey pounded on the slider and yelled obscenities that formed little clouds of breath on the glass. Sam then ran into the kitchen straight for the wall phone. He’d never used one before, but how difficult could it be?
He pressed 9-1-1 on the buttons and lifted the part that presses against your ear—whatever that’s called—nothing happened. Maybe he had to lift the phone first? Yes. Trey pounded on the glass. Damn ancient technology. Trey had picked up a patio chair and begun throwing it against the glass, but the chair bounced off with a resounding sharp noise that would alert Georgia in no time.
Just as Sam was about to dial again, he spotted the cluttered desk between the kitchen and garage door, and in the middle—someone’s laptop. Laptops he knew how to use. He had seconds to alert the outside world before he could attempt running out the front door, because at this point, Trey would chase after and kill him, and if Sam did one last thing, it’d be to make contact—for Colby, for Nate, and yeah, even that fucker, Alex.
His fingertip grazed along the trackpad until the screen lit up. Trey was now flitting past the windows of the dining room, and Sam knew he had figured out a better way of getting inside. Sam tried logging into his email, but his fingers shook so badly, every letter or symbol he typed turned out to be the wrong one, or lowercase when it should’ve been uppercase, or exclamation mark when it should’ve been a question mark.
“Fuck…” he muttered. “Stay calm…”
Suddenly, he thought of something else and tried pulling out his phone from his pocket, but realized he was still in his shorts. Trey would’ve taken away their phones when he knocked them out at the waterfall. So much for finding the helicopter guy’s business card like he’d hoped to. But then he realized he didn’t need it. He remembered the name of the company—Kauai Air Tours. He typed it into the Google search box, right as he heard footsteps pounding through the house.
Trey had found his way in.
“Come on…” Sam held his breath, as the search came up. He clicked on the link for Kauai Air Tours and immediately searched for the Contact page. It took a moment, because the connection was so damn slow—or maybe it just felt that way.
He could see Trey’s pissed-off glare and hear angry footsteps coming for him then disappearing around the corner. “Yeah, you’re dead now,” he was saying.
Frantically, Sam typed: “We’re at Belle…” knowing he’d appear behind him at any moment. It was as far as he could get. He’d meant to type “Belle Estate,” but suddenly, Trey was there, holding the Buddha head high over his head as it came down so fast, Sam felt the whoosh of air that preceded it.
He rolled to the side, as the head crashed into the laptop’s edge. Sam gripped it and tried to run off with it, but Trey reached out, grabbed him by the hair and smashed Sam’s head into the dining wall with a grunt. He realized just then why in cartoons, they always depicted people with stars and birds floating around their heads whenever they got hit, because he only saw fragments of light.
He might die, but his arms were still wrapped around the laptop.
Somehow, Sam managed to stand and run a few yards through the dining room, still holding the laptop, which he was beginning to feel he should let go of, if he was to run properly. But it was his only way to send a message. Do not let go, he told himself…do not.
Trey reached him again, threw his heavy body on top of Sam, and tried smashing his head one more time with the Buddha bust. Instinctively, Sam lifted one arm to block his head as the stone piece knocked him in the arm, snapping his bone with a sickening crack. He cried out, watched with one eye, as Trey lifted the stone again to render another blow, but Sam tugged at an area rug with his other hand, and pulled his dragging body along the polished wooden floor.
“No, you don’t,” Trey murmured. “I’ve come too far…waited too long…”
Sam kicked upward and managed to get his foot into Trey’s knee, nearly snapping it backwards. He flinched with a howl, as Sam got another kick into his crotch. While Trey winced in pain, Sam turned to the laptop one more time. He couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think…through murky, damaged vision, he searched for the cursor, slid his fingertip along the trackpad, until it rested over the button.
At that moment, a new presence had wrapped his neck with an electrical power cord, and as his vision paled, he saw it was Georgia, working in tandem with Trey to tie his hands and feet behind him. “Why do you have to make this so difficult?” she croaked, sounding like an entirely different person. Just as she struggled to free her computer from his grasp, wrench the device away from his bleeding fingertips, he pressed SEND on his message. And surrendered to pain.