Kathy Reichs - Code

“You cheated,” the Gamemaster spat. My flare eyes detected a slight tic in his left cheek. Once. Twice. “Broke the rules.”

“We never agreed to play!” Shelton shouted.

“ YES YOU DID! ” A snarl curled the Gamemaster’s lips. “My first letter was an invitation . You accepted by seeking the next cache. It was your choice.”

“It was a trick,” I said. “A coward’s setup.”

“I gave you a chance to be great!” The playful tone was long gone. “An opportunity to shed the trappings of your pathetic, boring lives. You should be thanking me.”

“You’re insane,” I snapped. “Playing God to mask whatever’s broken inside you.”

The Gamemaster’s face was granite, but the tic was a giveaway. I could tell he struggled to contain his fury.

“The world is insane,” he hissed. “I just help it dance.”

“We have your computer!” Shelton crowed. “It’s going straight to the cops.”

“Everything on that drive is public record.” Dismissive. “I’m not so reckless that I’d keep evidence connecting me to a crime. You don’t even know who I am, Mr. Devers. None of you do. There’s nothing on that laptop that can harm me.”

His arrogance infuriated me. “How many have you killed? Do you even know?”

“ I’ve killed no one.” Almost offended. “Those unfortunates lost The Game.”

“The Game is rigged!” Hi barked. “They never had a chance.”

“ LIE .” The Gamemaster leaned close to the camera. “Every clue had an answer, each puzzle a solution. Those people failed .”

“Has anyone escaped?” I asked. “Any player survived?”

“No.” The brown-clad shoulders rose and fell. “But everyone had the chance.”

“How can you live with yourself? So many dead.”

“We’re all just meat, Victoria Brennan.” Spoken quietly. “Fragile bags of fluid and bone, drifting aimlessly, plodding through life until something ends it. I provide an escape from that dreadful reality. A chance to shine once in a drab, miserable existence, before facing the abyss.”

“You’re a hot, steaming ball of crazy,” Hi said. “You know that, right? Freaking Looney Tunes. How have you gotten away with this for so long?”

“Bad things happen, Hiram.” Strangely, he giggled. “Car brakes fail. A bridge gives way. A house explodes during a violent storm. Most times, no one suspects a thing. ‘Unlucky,’ they say. Bad karma. Fate. Even when the authorities confirm foul play—when I’ve left behind one of my toys, like that wonder box at The Citadel—it makes no difference. I follow no patterns. Leave no signature. I’m a ghost.”

He flourished one hand. “I’m the Gamemaster.”

“We tracked you here,” I said. “We’ll find you again.”

“Doubtful. Though I admit, you’ve impressed me. Nearly caught me off guard. That never happens.”

The image blurred. I sensed the Gamemaster was rising to his feet. Then his face filled the screen once more. “Now tell me, where is young Benjamin Blue?”

Ben froze mid-pace. Senses amplified, I heard his breath catch. Scented a burst of perspiration.

“Tell Ben thank you,” the Gamemaster continued. “I’ve never worked with a partner before. It made this Game more exciting than others, being able to get so close—”

“ NO! ”

Ben sprang and grabbed the Dell, then flung it across the room.

The laptop hit the wall and exploded into pieces.

The rest of us shot to our feet. Coop bounded to stand between Ben and me, a confused growl rumbling in his throat.

No. It’s not possible .

“What was he talking about, Ben?” I watched him with flare intensity. “Why did he call you his partner?”

“He’s a liar!” Ben’s chest was heaving. “I never tried to—”

He didn’t finish.

At that moment, a series of powerful gusts struck the row house, rattling the walls and shaking the foundation. Water pounded the windows and roof. Outside, Katelyn was shrieking to new heights.

My focus never shifted from my friend. I needed answers.

“Explain. Now.”

Shelton raised a trembling hand. “Ya’ll hear that?”

“Hear what?” Eyes still on Ben, who was staring at the floor.

“Hissing,” Shelton said. “Like the sound I heard in the basement of the Citadel.”

There was a thump outside, but I ignored it.

Shelton’s warning had tripped an alarm. But why?

I thought furiously. The Gamemaster’s recent words flashed in my brain.

Bad things happen, Hiram. Car brakes fail. A bridge gives way. A house explodes during a violent storm. Most times, no one suspects a thing .

A house explodes during a violent storm .

Hissing .

“Oh my God.”

I closed my eyes and drew deeply through my nose. Noted a hint of something harsh. Oily. The odor was subtle, but intensifying by the second. Gas . Without my flare I’d never have caught it.

I swung my head, testing for a scent trail.

The smell was trickling down the hallway.

A house explodes .

Gas .

The kitchen!

Headlights swept the room.

Hi shot forward and pressed his face to a window. “The driveway!”

I bolted for the kitchen. There the stench was overpowering.

My eyes shot to the stove. Saw the severed gas line.

The fireplace!

I tore back down the hall, terrified I was too late. “Everybody out!”

Hi tried the front door. “Locked! Deadbolt. No key!”

Ben shoved Hi aside. Golden eyes smoldering, he backed up three steps and charged, shoulder-slamming the door from its hinges. The forward motion tumbled him out onto the waterlogged grass.

The wind screamed as it swept into the living room, carrying a noxious perfume of salt, dead vegetation, garbage, and oil. Driving rain began drenching the carpet and furniture.

I frantically gestured to Hi and Shelton. “Go go go!”

They needed no urging. We shot out into the storm, Coop a half step behind us.

I heard a soft whiff, like an intake of breath.

Fire exploded from every window.

The force of the blast launched bricks and wooden slats high into the churning sky, tossing me forward like a Wiffle ball. I hit the ground and rolled, instinctively covering my head.

The boys were already sprawled across the lawn.

“Everyone okay?” I shouted. Three nods. The calmest corner of my mind noted the other Virals were still flaring.

Coop was circling me protectively, ears flat, fur wet and dancing in the gale.

Behind me, the house burned like a bonfire, defying the gallons of water plunging from the sky.

Slightly dazed, I glanced at the street.

The black F-150 was idling by the curb.

My flare vision pierced the truck’s rain-streaked windshield. I saw the Gamemaster, eyes wide, mouth a black oval of shock. He lips formed a single word: impossible .

Six canvas duffels were piled in the truck bed.

Facts snapped into place. How could I have been so blind?

The fire in the living room. The Dell. Headlights in the driveway.

We’d hoped the Gamemaster might return. Never suspected he hadn’t left.

The storage shed! We didn’t check the damn shed .

“Bastard!” Ben charged the truck.

Startled, the Gamemaster stomped the accelerator. Rainwater sluiced up from his tires as the F-150 careened down to the intersection and turned left.

Ben sprinted after, wet jeans molded to his legs, jacket sleeves flapping in the vicious wind. I watched truck and boy disappear around the corner.

“Ben, wait!”