The Price of Life - A Novella

Chapter Three :: Odd Numbers

The elevator door opens to a white room and a screen with a blond woman.

"Congratulations," she says. Putting an AI face to the feminine voice they have been hearing since orientation.

The other surviving contestants sit sweaty in white chairs, mostly quiet. As they enter the room, Emmerson stands, looking between the faces frantically, his body tense. 

"What the fuck is going on," asks one of the other male contestants. His back to Simone as he speaks to the woman on the screen. "What the hell is all this?"

"Welcome to the Safe Zone. A level within the game for you to take care of your basic human needs. Please, continue into the main living quarters." 

A wall on the other end of the room between two elevators starts to lower, revealing a thin hallway. They follow behind one another to thick black wooden doors with long silver handles. The terrors of the game briefly fall away as they take in the checkered white marble and gray wood floors. A white and ebony wood grand staircase wraps upwards around a long chandelier that hangs from the ceiling in layers of diamond string drapes. The others run in, curious about their new surroundings, while Simone waits for them to spread, releasing her from claustrophobia. Once the entry is clear of others only Emmerson, Simone, 97, 18, and 80 stands beneath the chandelier. 

"I'm Obbie," 97 introduces herself. Her tan skin is clearer to see outside of the darkness of level zero. Sweat and dirt cover her clothes, and her mid-length brown hair is braided down her back. 

"Calvin," 18 answers. He's a shorter, muscular guy, though his age can be seen in the deep lines of his face. His paler skin is thin, showcasing the veins in his arm as he shakes Obbie's hand. 

"Rodrick," 80 says, standing around the same height as Emmerson but with a lot more muscle to fill out the length. His short black hair drips with sweat that covers the dark skin of his face and chest. His attempts to wipe it away with his damp shirt are futile. 

Emmerson walks past them to a wall covered in the faces of the contestants. Pictures surround a screen playing video feed. All but a few of the pictures are gray while the others are in color. Simone shifts, adjusting her view of the wall. The video feedback is of the previous level, 'highlights' from each team's struggle.  

Obbie, Calvin, and Rodrick talk over next-level possibilities while Simone walks a little closer, trying to look past Emmerson who has taken the screen into both hands. His fingers tighten until he releases his anger. He runs into the main room on the left, leaving the screen in pieces on the floor. 

"You fucking left her! How could you leave her?"

Simone and the others follow him into the living room as a man is being thrown onto a blue couch. Another man hides behind a tall, dark gray chair between tables with mirror-like surfaces and ebony wood trim. Emmerson stands over 29 with his hands in fists. 

"Left who?"

"I saw the video! You just got in the elevator and fucking left her!"

"Everyone who passed out got left, what were we supposed to do?" 9 peaks around the chair.

Emmerson lunges, dark rage flooding his eyes. Tunneling onto the man who left his sister to die. Others attempt to pull Emmerson off as 9 falls unconscious. A wall on the right holding the fireplace falls, slamming with a gust into the floor. A dozen men in white armored uniforms enter, pushing everyone back and forming a circle around Emmerson and the other two.

Sylvester's shoes tap the floors as he enters the room. He's changed into a navy blue long tail suit and vest. "Why are we fighting in the safe zone? I thought the name was self-explanatory." His voice is just as dull as before. He studies the three before glaring directly at Emmerson. "Ah, Mr. Coombes, I had a feeling I would be saying your name more than necessary. I got all fuzzy inside the first time I said it." He kneels, dropping to Emmerson's current eye level. "Are you going to be a problem? I really don't like problems."

"They let her die! They fucking left her!"

A condescending smile spreads across his lips. "Ol boy, I did say this was a safe zone." He tilts his head. "Contestants die in every level." He looks to the other men on the floor before looking sternly at Emmerson, who nods. Sylvester stands, gesturing for his men to move aside. 

As his men separate, contestant 3 - the man who crumbled during Simone's level - takes the opportunity to run for the opening in the wall. As though he expected someone to take the chance, Sylvester turns and shoots the man in the head before he reaches the entrance. Blood forms a pool around his exploded skull on the white marble. 

Simone and the other contestants back away, some hiding behind peers or furniture. 

"I hate even numbers so this works in my favor," he says gesturing for his men to take the body away. 

Two of them grab 3's legs, dragging his corpse through the opening, leaving a thick red trail. 

"Now, the next level shall be interesting." Sylvester turns. "Oh. Helen, leave the mess."

"Confirmed. No clean-up required," the AI answers. 

He casually steps over the blood, exiting the room with nothing more. The fireplace lifts, taking a portion of the trail with it as it settles back into its place. 

A couple of the contestants move to grab unconscious 9, pulling him from under Emmerson whose eyes are dark and unfocused. 9's face is twisted and bloody. His black and blue eye is swollen shut.

"Please find your room and prepare for dinner. Clothing will be provided," Helen says. 

Emmerson stands, eyes now on 29. "Your dead." 

"Please." He sneers, stepping towards Emmerson with more confidence. "He just said this was a free-for-all. Your all dead so I'll step over you just like I did your sister."

Emmerson smiles, big a bright, but his eyes are empty and lifeless. The contestants break off, separating Emmerson and 29 pulling them into separate rooms to avoid a fight. Others join together, lifting 9 and taking him upstairs. 

Simone is left alone with the pool of blood, not sure if she should follow, or if she even wants to. She sits as heavy anxiety sinks into her stomach and regret crawls onto her shoulders. People are going to die. People HAVE died. Getting drugged. Waking up in a boiling cement box. Watching the room set on fire. A man got shot in the head and his blood has been left like decor. The thought of taking life again isn't pleasing to Simone, but if she were cornered, would she hesitate? Would it be easier the second time? Simone stares at the dancing flames in the fireplace, contemplating if Restedpalm Lake is worth nearly one-hundred lives. Is she worth one-hundred lives? Are any of them? 

Things are going to get ugly really fast, and it's more likely now that she will be faced with choosing between her life and someone else. Could she pull the trigger or charge at someone with the intent of driving a blade through them? She remembers dark eyes wide with amusement and his raspy voice. The way his dirty fingers squeezed her neck so tight it could break. Then the blood painting her hands, dress, and rug, and his dry laughter as he tried to catch his blood in his hands. 

Simone takes a breath as her fathers' voice hums in her head. You control your mind, then you control your body. Shaking her shoulders out as she relaxes on the floor, crossing her legs. She crosses her arms over her chest and starts to breathe. With each breath she tries to imagine birds filled with worry flying away, taking pieces of her with them. Each bird lifting a piece of uncertainty out of her mind. She still isn't sure what will happen, but she knows she wants to see her family again. 

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Word Count :: 5006 of 8000