The zombies’ shrieks and howls were getting louder minute by minute. Even the dim lamps in the corners had begun flickering, in yet another sign that she and Karl were running out of time.
As if she hadn’t realized that already. Three minutes left, and they hadn’t even made it out of the museum storage area. They had no amulet, no key, no tomb, and no clue.
Well, they did have clues, obviously. But they couldn’t seem to decipher those clues. The two of them were so bad at escaping, the room’s monitor had actually given them six bonus hints, for a totalof nine. Then the young woman had begun typing helpful messages to them on the screen, directing them to look under the rug; telling them it wasn’t a problem with the lock, they simply had the wrong combination; and suggesting that they compare notes about what they’d each found.
Once, she simply wrote “NO.” In a startlingly large font.
About five minutes ago, the notes had changed in tone. Turned pitying and comforting, as the end drew near.
“You’re doing just fine,” read the latest message. “And it’ll be over soon. For all three of us.”
Molly sighed and chose one last tactic at random. “Why don’t we try to decrypt the typewriter keys again?”
With a groan, Karl rose from a squat, where he’d been studying the locked artifact cabinets. Wordlessly, he walked to her side and leaned over to contemplate the typewriter too.
He tapped a random key. “That a fish?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
To his credit, even a near hour of nonstop frustration hadn’t made him give up and admit defeat. He hadn’t said much—apart from occasional outbursts of profane crankiness—but when she’d asked questions, commented on what she’d seen, or made suggestions, he’d listened to her and followed her lead. And while he was definitely pissy, he wasn’t pissy towardher. More the nature of human existence in general and escape rooms in particular.
Her sole responsibility for suggesting the activity had gone entirely unmentioned.
Was he the best possible escape partner she could have had? No. Clearly not. If he were, they’d probably have found the amulet before now. But he could say the exact same thing about her. More importantly: In this sort of situation, Rob would’ve been livid, allblame and cutting remarks. Well before the allotted deadline, he’d have been smacking the emergency exit button and stomping out of the room without checking whether she intended to join him.
Sure, Karl had barely spoken an unprompted word, and they were going to be ripped apart by zombies at any moment, but at least they’d be ripped aparttogether. She supposed that was a victory of sorts.
While he continued poking at various mechanical components, she tugged futilely at the metal lock securing the lowest desk drawer and began turning the dials to choose digits at random. They needed five numbers, which seemed simple enough—but those five numbers encompassed a hundred thousand possible combinations, and there was nothing in the room that actually narrowed down their options or outright supplied the code.
“This is the most impossible escape room ever.” Giving up, she sat back on her heels. “Why in the world would they require a five-digit number for this drawer without giving us clues to determine that number?”
Karl stilled. “A five-digit number? Thought you needed four.”
“The locked storage cabinet has a four-digit code,” she corrected. “The drawer is five.”
“That, uh...” He scratched his chin, and his Crocs shuffled a bit on the floor beside her. “That museum worker’s name badge I found a while back? Under the rug? Employee number below the picture has, um... five digits.”
Slowly, she tipped back her chin to stare up at him in utter disbelief. “And you didn’t considersharingthat information with me?”
“Thought you knew. Used it to type the employee’s name and number on the typewriter, although that didn’t do shit.” He winced. “If I’d realized you needed a five-digit number for the lock—”
She’d noticed the engraved badge, but had assumed he’d let her know if it contained anything worth mentioning. “Hand it over.”
When she wiggled her fingers, he gave her the palm-sized metal oval. Whose identification number, yes, opened the desk drawer, which in turn contained a puzzle of some sort. The puzzle appeared to have subtle, hidden numbers, so that would probably help open the storage cabinet compartment, where the amulet might—
A beam in the ceiling above shook and semi-collapsed—in a theatrical, clearly predetermined way—as the lamps went dark. The howls became deafening, and the door began rattling in its frame.Thud. Scrabble. Shake. Thud-thud.
“Holyshit.” Karl grabbed her and shoved her behind him, brandishing a file folder in his fist. “If those assholes—”
A key clicked in the door, which swung open noiselessly, revealing...
Not zombies, obviously.
Their room monitor walked into the room and raised the lights by tapping on her tablet, wearing a look of resigned tolerance. Exhaling harshly, Karl lowered his arm, stepped to the side, and allowed Molly to move forward again.
“At this point, I usually go through what needed to happen for you to complete your mission, but that might take some time for you guys. Like,a lotof time.” The young woman tucked the tablet under her arm. “Would you rather just leave?”
“Oh, no. Definitely not.” Molly leaned a hip against the damn desk, folding her arms across her chest. “I want to knowexactlywhat we could have accomplished...ifI’d been told the number on the employee badge much, much sooner.”
