Page 3 of The Escape Room
Chapter2
The following Friday, I rode a rumbling, historic streetcar down to Jack London Square. Normally, the quaint collection of shops and restaurants near the waterfront would have been bustling with activity, but not today. After I got off at my stop, I walked three blocks to a business called The Great Escape, in weather I would have described as blustery, if I lived in the Hundred Acre Wood.
Not surprisingly, I’d won the blind date. When I’d gotten the call on Monday, they’d confirmed that particular prize had only received two entries. I’d spent the rest of the week working on that whole mustering enthusiasm thing, but had failed pretty spectacularly. I just couldn’t shake the gray cloud that seemed to follow me everywhere.
Ironically, literal gray clouds were following me that September afternoon. What looked like a pretty major storm was brewing over the nearby estuary, and it was just a matter of time before the sky opened up. Wind tugged at my coat as I paused on the sidewalk and took a look at my destination.
The business was housed in an elegant Victorian that had probably been built at the turn of the last century. It looked a lot like the house I’d grown up in, except that this one had recently received a snazzy new paint job in five or six shades of green. That brought out the period details and called attention to several elaborate stained glass windows.
A banner above the front porch read “Grand Opening,” and it fluttered in the ever-increasing wind. As I jogged up the steps, it tore loose at one end and started whipping around wildly. I had to fight it off on my way into the building, and in the next instant, it broke free and sailed down the waterfront. If I was someone who believed in omens, that would have been a bad one.
Once inside, I took off my coat and looked down at myself. I was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and a gray hoodie, which sent a pretty clear message about how invested I was in this date. A short, red-haired guy of about twenty rushed over to me with a big smile and took my coat as he exclaimed, “Welcome! Are you Patrick or Ryan?”
“Patrick. Rick, actually. Only my dad uses my full name.”
“Well, come on in, Rick. I’ve got you all set up in the library on the top floor. I just need you to sign a waiver and turn in your phone, and then you can head upstairs and make yourself comfortable. By the way, somebody from Heart2Heart dropped off a few goodies for you and your date. You’ll see them when you get up there.”
“Great. So, two questions. Why am I signing a waiver, and why are you taking my phone?”
The guy stepped behind a desk to the left of a curving staircase and explained, as he hung my coat on a hook, “The waiver is just a formality. My uncle, who owns this place, is afraid of getting sued in case someone twists an ankle or, you know, freaks out about getting locked in or something. And I’m supposed to take your phone so you can’t look up the answers to the puzzles. You have two hours to escape, and the week’s best times win prizes.” He gestured at a chalkboard behind him, which was labeled “The Greatest Escapees” and included a list of names and times. The fastest was a group of three, who’d solved the puzzles in fifty-seven minutes. I was sure I could beat that.
After I skimmed the fairly standard form and signed it, I sent Dare a quick text:I’m here. My date hasn’t arrived yet, so there’s nothing to report. I have to turn in my phone, but I’ll message you when it’s over. My friend replied with “have fun” and way too many exclamation points. Then I handed over the phone, and the red-haired guy locked it in the top drawer of his desk.
“My name’s Benji,” he said. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. There’s an intercom to the left of the door, you’ll see it when you’re in the library. There’s also a timer directly above it, which will be counting down your two hours. The doors will unlock automatically if you don’t solve the puzzles before the time runs out, but if you need to leave early, let me know. I’ll send the code to the keypad on your door, and the locks will disengage. Any questions?”
“Where do we get the clues?”
“Oh, right. That’s an important detail.” He grinned and admitted, “This is only my third day, so I’m still learning the ropes. Anyway, the first clue will drop in through a mail slot behind the desk when you close the doors. They’ll lock automatically and the clock will start, so leave the doors open until you’re ready to begin. The answer to the first puzzle will lead you to your next clue, which will lead you to the one after that, and so on. They’re hidden all around the room. The final puzzle will reveal the code that stops the clock and unlocks the doors.”
“Got it.”
“Since you’re here as part of a special prize package, take as much time as you want before you start the countdown. I put you in our best room, and I hope you have fun,” Benji said. “You can head to the top floor if you want. Your room is straight ahead when you reach the landing, the one with the open double doors. I’ll brief your date and send him up when he arrives.”
As I climbed the stairs, my worry about who exactly would be showing up began to escalate. At least we’d have some time to get to know each other before the game started. If we totally failed to get along, I could always invent an excuse and leave before we got locked in together.
My concerns were temporarily forgotten when I reached the impressive third-floor library. It looked like it had been transplanted directly from the late eighteen-hundreds, with a few exceptions, including the very modern door lock with a touch pad. The digital display above the intercom wasn’t exactly period either, although the screen had been placed in an antique frame to jazz it up a bit.
It felt like an actual room in someone’s home, as opposed to a collection of props in a place of business. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a large writing desk, and a comfortable-looking seating area in front of a brick fireplace. The best feature was the room’s only window, which I’d noticed when I was out on the sidewalk. It was a round, stained glass masterpiece, about five feet in diameter. Since it was both late in the afternoon and overcast outside, the colors were muted, which was a shame. The stained glass was probably amazing when the sun shone through it.
I did a slow lap around the room and noticed a half-bath through a connecting door behind the desk. I also paused to check out a small table, which had been positioned near the fireplace. It was draped with a crisp, white tablecloth and held a bouquet of red roses, along with a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket and two glasses. There were also chocolate-dipped strawberries on a fancy tray and a trio of white pillar candles, which proved to be battery-operated on closer inspection. Finally, there was a rainbow-striped card, which read:We hope you get lucky in love! Courtesy of Heart2Heart, the premiere dating app for the LGBTQ+ community. The “lucky in love” part was highly unlikely, but the champagne and berries were a nice touch.
A loud clap of thunder startled me. It was followed almost immediately by a flash of lightning, which brought the stained glass to life for a split second. I peered through one of the clear panels in the window’s symmetrical, starburst pattern and noticed it had started raining. The street was nearly deserted, except for a lone figure dressed in black, who was holding an umbrella and running down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. When he crossed the road and disappeared beneath the roof of the porch, I realized he was probably the other prize winner.
My stomach knotted with anxiety, for no good reason. This wasn’t even a real date. It was just some silly thing I’d agreed to do, because I was tired of seeing the worry and pity in everyone’s eyes when they looked at me. God, was I tired of that.
A few long minutes ticked by. Finally, the sound of footsteps drifted up the stairwell, and I turned to face the double doors. My back was pressed to the window, so it wasn’t possible to retreat any further. As my heart started to race, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and focused all my attention on whoever was about to appear at the top of the stairs.
I glimpsed spiky, pink hair a moment before the annoying guy from the bar bounded onto the landing. It was like flipping a switch, and I went from panicked to exasperated in an instant. But I could cope with that a hell of a lot better than my anxiety, so in a way, he was the perfect person for this. I already knew I didn’t like him, so the pressure was off.
His face lit up when he saw me, and he exclaimed, “Oh wow, it’s you! I totally remember you from the bar. Do you remember me?” He grabbed the double doors with both hands and swung them shut before hurrying toward me and saying, “I’m Ryan Sullivan. The guy downstairs said your name is Patrick Wilson, but that you like to go by Rick. Is that right?”
Before I could reply, the door locks engaged, and a manila envelope dropped into a wall-mounted basket behind the desk. As the numbers 02:00:00 appeared in red on the digital readout, then immediately changed to 01:59:59 and began counting down, I asked, “Didn’t Benji tell you what happens when you close the doors?”
Ryan stopped in his tracks, and his blue eyes went wide as he blurted, “Oh! Shoot, I forgot. You know what, though? Benji said we can call him on the intercom if we need anything, and I’m sure he’ll give us a do-over.” I held back a sigh and turned toward the bottle of champagne, because this was clearly going to require alcohol.
In the next instant, we both jumped at a loud boom. The room was plunged into semidarkness, and Ryan asked, “What just happened?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say lightning struck a transformer.”