Jeff Strand - Single White Psychopath Seeks Same

A man, about twenty-five years old with glasses and a black goatee, sat on the bottom of the slide, wearing a blue shirt. A blonde woman who was a few years older was standing in the corner, sliding her hands along the plastic as if searching for a weak spot. She wore a red shirt.

Each side of the cube had what looked like two cannons mounted on it, like the kind in carnivals where you spray the stream of water to make your horse win the race. Each cannon was about ten feet from the nearest corner, with about fifteen feet separating the cannons that shared a side. Beneath each cannon was a small cardboard box. Daniel stepped ahead of us, and then turned around to face us and gestured for us to stop.

“And here we are at our first event, darts. The rest of you know how the game works, but I’ll explain it for Andrew’s benefit. We’re divided into two teams. Josie, Foster, and I will be the red team, and you, Stan, and Mortimer will be the blue team.”

He approached one of the cardboard boxes and reached inside, pulling out a thin metal spike, about three inches long and half an inch thick. “These are the darts. You load them into the shooter as so.” He slid the spike into a hole in the back of the cannon. “To fire, pull the trigger.”

He pulled the trigger, and with a loud snap the spike shot across the cube, striking the far wall and dropping to the floor. “Nice and simple. The people inside, who can’t hear us, by the way, have been told that the first one of them to collect all ten of their flags will be set free. They won’t, of course. That’s just to keep them moving. The game gets pretty boring if they just sit there.”

“And, what, the object is to kill them before they can get the flags?” I asked, wondering how I could possibly put a stop to this.

“Of course not. That would be way too easy. As long as your person is still moving, you get a point every time you hit them. The object is to rack up the most points, which means you have to shred your person bit-by-bit. Hit a vital organ too soon and that’ll cost you the game.”

“Cool,” I said, nodding my understanding. That nod was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do in my life.

“Everyone grab a spot!” said Daniel. The others hurried to their places, Foster on the far side of the cube across from me, Josie and Mortimer to the left, Stan to the right. I took the spot next to Daniel. “It works like this,” said Daniel, swiveling his cannon up and down, left and right. “Since you only have enough maneuverability to cover about half of the cube, you need to use teamwork.”

I swiveled the cannon. If only it weren’t fixed to the cube. “What if you hit the wrong person?” I asked.

“You no longer get to shoot, and your team loses five points. Don’t do it.”

I had to do something to stop this, but once again I was stuck with no options. At least no good ones. I did have a box full of the darts, but Daniel was fifteen feet away, and I didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t still have his gun. Could I stroll on over to him before I got shot?

Could I stab him with the spike and get a hold of his gun?

Or could I press a spike to his neck and force him to order the release of the prisoners?

The first option wasn’t likely. Even if I could pull off the stabbing portion, there’s no way I’d have time to go through his jacket before the others got me.

The second option didn’t seem much better, but I had to do something . I could stand here all day, watching them kill off prisoners one by one, and never get a good opportunity. This problem wasn’t going to be resolved by getting a prisoner to feign unconsciousness. If I didn’t act, and soon, they were going to die excruciatingly painful deaths.

“The game of darts is about to begin!” Daniel announced. “On the victim’s side, being shot at by the blue team, unable to hear me but being introduced anyway, we have Trevor Winford!”

“Wenford,” Foster corrected.

“I’m sorry. Man, that’s tragic. The last time he’ll ever be introduced and I screw up his name. Oh well. Let’s hear it for Trevor Wenford!”

Everyone applauded with great enthusiasm. I joined them, while crouching down to pick up a spike.

“And being shot at by the red team, let’s give a warm welcome to Susan Picci…Piccini…how do you pronounce it again?”

“Sounds like ‘pitch-a-ninny,’” said Stan.

“Ah. Why the hell do you always kidnap people with such hard names to pronounce? Let’s hear it for Susan Piccinini!”

More applause.

“All right, everyone, load your first dart!”

The others began to load their cannons. I clutched the spike tightly in my hand, wondering if I should just rush over there.

No. I couldn’t be stupid about this. Daniel would be much more distracted once he was playing the game. They were purposely trying to avoid killing the prisoners, so I had some time. Not much, but some.

I slid the spike into the cannon, and then picked up another.

“Let me ask you something, Daniel,” I said. “I know the money portion isn’t a problem, but how do you get something like this built? I mean, you can’t just hire local construction workers, right?”

Daniel chuckled. “Actually, yeah, you can for a lot of it. Well, the designers weren’t local, but a lot of the workers were. I just have to do my own modifications. For example, this thing was built to be a paint ball game, and then I turned it into something a little more fun. As far as the construction crews know, I’m building the world’s biggest indoor theme park…most of which is a haunted house. They just don’t know that I’ve made it lethal. It’s still a lot of work, even with an outside crew doing most of the manual labor. But wait’ll you see what we’ve got underground. It’s mostly functional but not completely finished yet, so it won’t be part of this year’s games, but it’s amazing . You’ll be astounded, I promise.”

Daniel tapped the side of the cube. Trevor and Susan looked in his direction, and Daniel held up his hand, counting down on his fingers.

“Ready to begin in five…four…three…”

I looked across the cube at Foster, who was smiling at me, as if he knew how little I wanted to be here.

“…two…one…GO!”

The prisoners leapt into motion as there were five simultaneous snaps , and then loud slamming sounds as the darts struck the opposite sides of the cube. A spike tore across Trevor’s upper arm and he cried out, though I couldn’t hear it. I saw that Susan also had an arm wound, much worse than Trevor’s, and a spike protruding from her thigh.

“Foster! What the hell are you doing?” shouted Daniel, hurriedly pulling out another spike. “You’re gonna cripple her already!”

“The aim’s off on mine!” Foster protested.

“Don’t blame the cannon!” Another dart grazed Susan’s shoulder. “Nice one, Josie!”

I quickly began to walk toward Daniel.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Stay by your cannon!”

“Mine’s not working,” I insisted.

“Just pull the trigger! C’mon, your teammates are counting on you!”

Trevor crashed against the cube right next to me, the bottom of his ear gone.

“Shit! You made me miss that hit! Who did that? Mortimer?”

“Hell yeah, baby!” Mortimer announced.

“You know very well that you weren’t aiming for his ear,” Josie informed him.

“It’s not the intent, it’s the action!”

“Yeah, kiss mine!”

“I just need you to-” I began.

“Goddamnit, Andrew, you pull the trigger! Don’t make me shoot you!”

He returned his attention to the game, firing a spike that grazed Susan’s leg, but I’d lost any possible element of surprise. I should’ve just rushed him…except that I’d have ended up dead.