Alexander Plansky - Arcadia

He clicked it open.

A spreadsheet containing the name and date of everyone who had visited Arcadia since July 13, 2018, along with the time of their appointment, appeared before him. He didn’t bother scrolling. Instead, he opened the search-bar and began entering specific names. His pulse quickened with every row that it highlighted.

Lola Hayworth, who’d shot her YouTube gamer boyfriend Shane Dempsey, had visited on August 16, 2018. Trevor Mann, who’d strangled a friend before pitching himself off his high-rise balcony, came by on October 20 th. Dan Folsom, the college student at UC Santa Barbara who’d gone home for Thanksgiving to butcher his mother and hospitalize his sister, went to Arcadia on the 10 thof November. There were two people on the list with the name Dale, one Callahan and one McGregor, but he’d bet one of them was the cousin of the man he and Jenna had met at that bar in the Mirage.

And then there was Charlie Wong, with his name entered for last Saturday: January 19 th, 2019.

Jake Miller didn’t make an appearance, but aside from that nothing about this document surprised Lewis. It frightened him to finally have proof and he feared the implications of being correct, but here it was it. It didn’t even shock him that only about thirty people had visited the VR attraction since its opening. He didn’t know what funding was keeping them afloat, but he could guess.

The only thing left now was to get the file out of here. Lewis pulled out the flashdrive he’d stashed in his pocket earlier and slotted it into one of the desktop’s USB ports with the help of his phone’s illumination, his hand trembling as he did so.

Quickly, Lewis opened an additional file folder window and copied the spreadsheet onto his device. As soon as he did so, he heard a noise, and his head whipped to the right. Someone was approaching from down the corridor. Abruptly, Lewis yanked his USB stick out and turned off the monitor. He slid underneath the desk and hid next to the computer.

Lewis listened very carefully, but at first all he could hear was the soft humming of the device’s internal fans beside him. Then he heard the footsteps again. Louder, closer.

The person had entered the main lobby.

Lewis tried to keep his breathing as quiet as possible. He just needed to wait here until the guard left, then sneak back out the way he came – no, maybe that was too risky now. There seemed to be more activity at the rear of the compound than at the front. Okay, so he’d slip out through the front doors, scale the fence, get back to his car, and then get the hell out of here. But he had to be careful to not let them spot his headlights. Miller had probably been killed on the run, speeding away from this place, just as Lewis was about to attempt to do.

Suddenly, a beam of light swept over the desk and along the back wall, then moved out of sight. Shit, they were searching the area. Something had set them off. The flashlight moved back in his direction and stayed there, swaying gently back and forth across the desk. Lewis heard the footsteps getting louder as the person drew closer.

Thoughts raced through his mind. How well could he throw a punch? If he took the person by surprise and found a gun on them, maybe he’d have a fighting chance. There didn’t seem to be many people here, he could shoot his way out if he really had to. Not that he’d ever fired a gun before, but he’d watched enough TV, played enough games. It was time to put the theory that video games trained you to use weapons to the test, although he feared his PlayStation controller may have inadequately prepared him for how to pull a trigger.

The flashlight clicked off. He heard several loud footsteps receding, followed by some softer ones. Then nothing. Lewis started to breathe easier. He waited a few more seconds, then slowly began to crawl out from under the reception desk. Grabbing the edge, he pulled himself up and looked out at the lobby.

He didn’t realize that the opaque spot just off to his right was a person until they swung a heavy object – probably the flashlight – at him, a dark blur flying toward him out of the blackness. Lewis ducked and the instrument passed over his head by less than an inch. Thinking quickly, he jumped over the desk, past the guard, and began running for the door.

The entrance slid open in response to his approach and a gunshot went off somewhere behind him, a bullet whizzing by his head. Lewis dashed out into the chilly night air, turned on a dime, and began pumping his legs toward the fence off to the left. He tried not to think of how unlikely it was that he’d make it back to the car without being shot. Even if he made it around the corner of the building before the guard could get a good shot at him, he’d undoubtedly catch up by the time Lewis made it over the fence.

Then, just as he rounded the bend, a figure leaped out of the shadows in front of him. He saw a fist sail through the air toward him at a frightening speed. Then it connected with his forehead.

There was a sudden burst of pain, then blackness.

Lewis bolted upright, gasping. He lay in the hotel bed unclothed, Jenna still sound asleep beside him. A stream of daylight shone in from between the closed curtains. He put a hand to his head. It still hurt but didn’t feel like it was bruised. Throwing the sheets off, he leaped out of bed, pulled his boxers on from off the floor, and began frantically searching through his suitcase.

His clothes from last night were there, neatly folded as if he hadn’t worn them. He reached into both of the jeans’ pockets. The flashdrive was gone. Shit . He looked all around the room. Nothing seemed to have changed from when they went to bed last night. The car keys were even precisely where he left them.

Jenna stirred in the bed and rubbed her eyes. “Morning,” she said, stretching her arms. She pulled the sheets closer to cover her bare chest as she sat up. “Sleep well?”

He didn’t answer, merely staring at her with a curious look.

She tilted her head slightly to one side. “Des, what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember me leaving the room last night?”

She looked confused. “You left? No, I didn’t notice anything. I think yesterday really tired me out, especially that game. I slept like a rock.”

Lewis put a hand to his head. Did he remember anything after the second guard had hit him? It seemed like there was something there, but he wasn’t sure if it had been a dream while he was unconscious. As for how they got him back here, it wouldn’t have been that hard. If people really had been watching him and Jenna as they entered the Mirage, they’d have known this was where they were staying. Lewis had had his room keycard in his pocket. One of the guards could have just pretended they were one of his friends, helping him back to his place because he’d gotten blackout drunk during a night on the town. They could have walked up to the counter and asked which room the card belonged to.

Then they would’ve brought him back up, stripped him, placed him in bed, and folded his clothes to put them away and give the illusion that he’d never left. The thought made him shiver. He didn’t know how they’d put the car keys in the right place. Maybe just a lucky guess.

Or maybe they had cameras in the room.

He began walking around, looking all over the walls. Jenna laughed. “What the hell are you doing? Where did you go last night?”

Lewis kneeled down beside the bed and put her hand in his. “I need you to believe me.”

She started to look concerned. “Okay…”

“I went back to Arcadia last night. I climbed the fence and snuck in. The shit I saw was crazy. There were still people there, even though it was almost midnight. And these black cars pulled in, and they got out with a hostage, someone with a bag over their head. They took the person to one of the other buildings. I didn’t see what they did with them, but I managed to get back into the main lobby and access the computer.”