The Price of Life - A Novella

Chapter Seven :: Puzzle Pieces

They're hit with a strong savory smell as Obbie guides Simone into the Safe Zone from a back entrance that locks behind them. It isn't this unfamiliar aromatic scent that pulls Simone from her daze. It's the loud sobs of a woman that reach them as they come to the entry room beside the stairs. 

Obbie guides Simone to sit on the bottom step. "Sit here, I'm gonna see what's goin' on." She waits until Simone gives her a nod before leaving to check on the others.

How many died? There were so many bodies.. there can't be many left. And the ones that lived.. would they hate us for the choice we made? Would they have made the same choice?

Simone ponders this thought for a few minutes. Now, under no pressure of time and death, would she make this choice again? 

If we hadn't made this choice, it's likely more would have died. Obbie was right, we have no idea what the next level is. I would be dead. Obbie would be dead. And all those here, even the sobbing woman, would be dead. But in doing that I had to make a choice that I knew would still cause deaths.. my hands are dirty, and now I'm going into the next round. If I keep playing this game the way I've been playing, depending on more capable people to watch out for me, I'm going to cause more death than I'm worth. I have to start playing. Really playing. I want to see my dad again. 

Simone lifts her head, looking to meet the faces in the photos that are now gray. Her eyes widen as those photos greatly outweigh the ones still in color. The screen broken by Emmerson has been replaced and now plays scenes from the previous level; one contestant after another is overcome by the volume of gas that fills the rooms until they stop moving completely and the camera goes foggy.

Simone looks away, then hesitantly turns back, urging herself to remember the people lost during the previous round. As she scans the faces of the contestants killed by her choice, her eyes stop when falling on the grayed out face of the man that took her exit.

I thought you got out...

"How did you do it?"

Simone turns to see Emmerson standing behind her, looking past her to the photos. She turns back before answering. "It was a bonus trial."

His eyes finally shift to her, burning into the back of her head. Instead of speaking, he tightly grabs her wrist, dragging her up the stairs into a dead contestant's room. He doesn't stop to look at her until they are safely behind the bathroom door away from cameras and ease dropping ears. 

"What the hell," Simone scolds, snatching her arm away. 

"Tell me about the trial." For the first time, Emmerson looks at Simone. Though his expression is strong and a bit indifferent, his eyes are soft; filled with a familiar sadness.

She rubs her wrist.

He sighs, running his hand over his face. "Did I hurt you?"

Yes. 

Simone shakes her head. "I'll be fine."

He takes a reluctant step towards her, taking her wrist into his hands. She winces. Gently this time, he leads her to the sink and starts to run her wrist under icy water. "Sorry," he starts. "I didn't mean to," he pauses for a moment, finding his words, "I've been angry and I forgot myself. I won't let it happen again."

Simone stares at him, but his eyes never drift from the icy water. "Why do you care about the trial," she asks.

"I have a hunch."

"About?"

"Everything."

"What does that even mean?"