Jack in the Box (24 page)

He gagged. His eyes bulged.

"You mistake time with failure," I growled.

His eyes stared straight into mine.

"I'm not done yet, and 'who outsmarts who' will be determined by the end of this, not the beginning or middle."

He clawed at my hands.

"I want you to feel this." I grabbed his hand and put it on my chest. My other hand stayed down on his neck. "Do you feel that?"

My heart thumped against his hand. He continued to choke.

I loosened my hand. "Do you?" I yelled.

"Yes!" he gasped.

I retightened my grip. "As long as that beats we are not done. Now, you can answer my questions, or just keep your mouth shut."

He nodded frantically.

I shoved his head against the floor and stood.

He coughed and rolled onto his side. His eyes squinted shut.

"Get up."

He managed to bring himself to his feet.

I rubbed my chin. It was becoming clear that I couldn't keep dancing through the rooms forever. I needed to come up with a plan, or just accept that I'd never pass. But what was I supposed to do? Brian was faster. Knowing the rooms didn't help me. I couldn't think of anything.

The referee cleared his throat.

"Hang on," I said, "I'm thinking." My eyes fell on the ref. And then I had an idea. "Wait a second. . ."

He looked down at himself. "What?"

I looked at my watch. Three hours until dinner. "I need to ask you something." I crossed my arms. "Brian can give me requested items. Can you do that too?"

He rubbed his neck. Reluctantly, he nodded. Eyes closed.

"Good," I said.

"But, like Brian, I can't give you just anything," he croaked.

"Okay."

"That was the closest you've ever been to Jack Colson," he nodded back at where I'd tackled him.

I stared at him. "Is that an insult?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Well, I take it as one."

He returned my stare.

I wiped my face. And I prayed. Yes, prayed. I don't really know of another word for it. I didn't know who I was praying to, but I did. I got the same feeling I'd gotten before. When I felt there was something there. Something helping. Protecting. My eyes trailed around the room.

"So, what are you planning?"

I snapped back to it. "Let me tell you what I'll need."

→

I sat back at the table in my room. The test. The Box. Everyday was an odd combination of information and effort. Of revelation and testing. At times revelations connected to how I might pass. Mostly, though, it was a dichotomy of sorts. I always had to continue as if things weren't changing in my mind. As if I hadn't just dreamed. As if I weren't warring with guilt. With desperation. To ignore that things are changing is a futile effort. I tried. But things were always changing. Things don't stop changing. A few remain the same, but much of what I'd known was a combination of subjectivity and deception. I was Jack Colson. I was in hell. I was a murderer. At least, I had thought I was. I had thought I was the man who walked through life with an agenda of cold-hearted murder. In the name of science.

Science. How could Jack Colson think that science was the justifier of his acts? Science should be used to save lives. To make discoveries. And yes, I'd dare say it, "to better mankind." How can mankind be better as men and women race through doors to nowhere? As the standard of living is to take a life? As children send lead through their fathers' heads? Things had changed. No matter how angry Jack Colson's actions made me, though, the truth that he and I were not the same person was a comfort. No, I didn't feel exalted. But the guilt was gone. The anxiety. The once difficult question
,
Should I pass the test
?
wasn't hard to answer anymore. I'd tried to console myself by constantly sayin
g
Yes, pass
,
in my head. But the more you say one thing to yourself, the more you know that you believe the opposite.

That was all gone, now. I could pass with a clear head. And a clear conscience. Would I ever kno
w
al
l
the answers? Maybe not. But it didn't matter. I would pass, and I would live the life they robbed me of. And maybe someday, I'd somehow find the guy who put me in the test in the first place. I wondered what was on the outside. There was still so much I didn't kno
w.
Even though I told myself that I might not know the answer to everything, the questions still rang in my head. But I had to ignore them. I had to pass. Or die trying. Did death scare me now? Actually, yes. Death was a different story now. It wasn't more hell. I now had a chance to live for the first time.

"Day-dreaming, Jack?"

I looked up and saw nothing
.
The referee
?
"I thought you couldn't fix your suit today."

"So did I," his deep voice was back, "'Looks like we were both wrong."

I stood up. Something was different.

Silence from the referee.

I started at him.

He pushed me back. "Watch it, Jack."

I took a step back. "Are you afraid of me?"

He snorted. "Are you serious?"

I stroked my chin. This referee was speaking firmly. It didn't fear me. And it didn't make any silly jokes. "Who are you?"

The referee chuckled. "What?"

I could tell something was different. I didn't back down. "You're not the same guy."

He breathed in slowly. "Well, it looks like you're keener than they said you were."

I glared in his direction.

"If you're really that curious, the previous referee was disposed of thirty minutes ago," he cracked his knuckles. "I didn't want to be the replacement, especially not fo
r
you
,
but, you know, duty calls."

I nodded slowly. This quick change of events would have surprised me before. After what had happened in the past few days, though, it was becoming hard to surprise me.

"So, go on, do your thing."

I thought about what he'd said. "So, a replacement ref?" I folded my arms. "What about the old one?"

"Too weak. Quite an idiot. And come on, he let you break one of the most expensive devices like it was no big deal."

"The suit?"

He grunted as though I'd asked the most idiotic question ever. "Yes, Jack, the suit."

"So, where is he now?"

"Dead probably. The Originals don't tolerate that sort of thing."

"He's dead?" I asked
.
And it's my fault. .
.
"Wait. The 'Originals'?
"
What are those supposed to be?

He sniffed. "Man, you've been in here this long and you haven't figured that out yet? Wow, I don't kno
w
wh
y
people are worried about you. You can't even-"

"People are worried about me?" I said. "What people?"

The referee sniffed. "No one. Forget it."

I took a step forward. "No. Who are these people? Who are you talking about?"

"Everyone expects you to fail Jack."

My face fell. "Everyone. . ." I said, knowing he wouldn't explain who "everyone" specifically included. "Everyone on the outside?"

He huffed. "Who else?" Then he started muttering.

"What?"

"Don't you have things to do, Jack?"

I was starting to think that the criterion for being a ref was to first be a jerk.

The ref tapped his foot.

I exhaled. I did have things to do. A nod and a wave to the ref, and then I returned to the table and sat down. Checked my watch.

Two hours until dinner.

seventeen

I tapped my fingers on the table. Which part first? This test couldn't be passed with my strength. It couldn't be passed with my speed. So, there was only one way I could pass.

With my mind.

I'd underestimated it before. But it was what would get me through. If this were to be my last day in the test, I had to trust my memory.

It was a funny thing. The first referee was the one who'd led me to thinking of the plan. So, the biggest idiot that I knew helped me with a solution. Not only thinking of it, but the resources for it, too
.
And then he died. .
.
He died because of me. Because I broke the suit. And probably because of the help he gave me. I wanted to forget about it. But his death was because of me. I rubbed my head. I knew I wasn't the one who killed him. But if I hadn't gotten him to help, he probably would've still been alive
.
But it was legal. .
.
I didn't break the rules. But I couldn't ignore what had happened. A life was gone. I felt something for the first time. I thought I had felt it before, but it was on false memories. This time it was something I'd really done, or at least been connected to. I felt guilt.

This short moment of sorrow was quickly replaced with anger.  This was because of me, but it wasn't my fault. It was the same problem: the man in charge. He held Brian and me hostage by threatening our lives. And he killed the referee.

I wasn't shifting the blame in my mind. No, I was just beginning to realize something. This wasn't about Brian. This wasn't about the referee. And if there were others being tested, this wasn't about me, either. It was about the man outside. It made me wonder, if I passed, what would happen after that?

I was beginning to realize something.

The test was a struggle.

But the test wouldn't be the end.

→

Part one: find Brian
.
Again
.
Easier said than done. That had always been the hard part. But hopefully I'd only have to do it one last time. I stood and checked my watch again. Two hours was plenty of time. I went through the North door.

Rework your way to his room. If he's not there, go through the surrounding rooms. If he's not in that vicinity, then you'll have a problem.

Part two. .
.
I pulled out my gun
.
Part two. .
.
I kept walking.

It took about ten minutes to get to Brian's room. Nothing went through my mind as I went there; I just walked. It's the sort of numbness of mind you get when something big is about to happen. You're thinking about everything, but suddenly you're thinking of nothing. You're just doing. My steps slowed as I neared his room. I stood outside the door. My heart began to thump. The rhythm began again. The watch, my heart, the shaking of my fingertips. The compass made a quick vibration in my pocket. I looked behind me, getting the feeling of the referee's presence. I grabbed the door handle. Cold. My plan was make-or-break. Nothing could go wrong. He had to react the way I expected him to. He had t
o
thin
k
the way I expected him to. It had to work. I had to pass.

"Well?" the referee grumbled.

"Shut up."

I slowly turned the knob. My chest rose and fell with large breaths that I breathed through my nose. Finally, I held my breath and opened the door. Looked inside. No one. I exhaled. Walked in and closed the door.

The only sounds I heard were my own breaths. I slowly walked toward the center of the room. A chair in front of his desk was pulled out.

My ears popped. I didn't act in time. I turned as just as Brian tackled me. Our eyes locked just before he impacted me.

He yelled with adrenaline and brought me down.

We landed on the table. Hard. For a second nothing happened. The wind was knocked out of me. Brian moaned and tried to get himself up. Then the table's legs gave. We fell with the table and our bodies knocked together.

Brian grunted and rolled off of me.

I grabbed my head. Tried to get my breath back. I squinted.

He stood up and dusted himself off.

I felt myself getting picked up. My eyes opened.

He held me up by my shirt and ran me into the wall. Fury was in his eyes.

I grabbed his wrists.

He lifted me up against the wall. My feet left the ground.

"How long are you going to go on like this?" he gritted his teeth.

I pushed his hands off me and stepped forward. I wound up and punched.

Brian sidestepped and elbowed me in the back.

I fell on my stomach. Before he could keep me down with his foot, I rolled over and grabbed his leg.

His eyes shot open wide.