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“It would be way too simple for that to be the exit key, and it wouldn’t make use of the coloured squares. As much as I’d like to think they’re a dead-end like that wall lock was, I’d be surprised if they were,” Wyatt says as he moves the tools into place.
Grabbing the lockbox, I put the numbers in order, but it doesn’t work. Putting them backward yields no results either. I try it again, just in case, but get absolutely nowhere.
“Here, you try,” I say, handing him the stupid fucking thing. I’m already getting crotchety and it’s only been just over ten minutes.We’re almost a third of the way through the time with nothing to show for it.
There are half a dozen bags of grain seen piled up at the side, and whilst there isn’t anything obvious on or around them, it doesn’t mean there’s nothing inside them…
“I’m going to tip those bags out,” I decide out loud. “This isn’t getting us anywhere, so it’s got to be worth a shot.” I can’t just sit here and do nothing, I’ve spent way more time doing that than I should have done already.
Wyatt shrugs, getting no further with the box than I was as he abandons it and follows me over. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
They are, but time is running out…
Either way, I grab the first bag and tip it up, the grain whooshing out like sand.
“Slowly,” he says. “It’ll be easier to see something that’s not supposed to be there as it falls than scrabbling around in it once it’s on the ground.”
Slowing it down is easier said than done whilst it’s this heavy, but it gets easier as time goes on. Disappointingly, he’s not found anything, and neither have I as I turn the empty bag in my hands before throwing it to one side.
Wyatt picks up the next one, doing a much better job than me of slowly pouring it out and spreading it thinly over the ground rather than in one big pile.Good thinking.Except, as he gets to the end of that one, it’s got nothing in either.
The wind whistles ‘outside’ as we repeat the process, alternating pouring until we’re on the last one. The amount of time this has taken is ridiculous and neither of us can help the panicked looks we keep sending to the countdown clock; there’s got to be something in here somewhere. There has to be.
The box lands with a thud, and the relief I feel is unbelievable.
Not that I had any concerns.
Not really.
He finishes tipping the bag, double-checking it and the contents meticulously as I sit back, clearing space in the dirt as I look over the coloured combination lock on the otherwise innocuous-looking wooden box.
“Three numbers and three colours,” I say, showing him.
“Well, you’ve got the three colours already, so that’s straightforward, but this equation is four numbers…”
“Yep,” I reply, popping the ‘P’ as he reads the exact thought running through my mind.
With barely ten minutes left to figure this out and get out of this hell, we could have hit a brick wall.
“Fuck.”
He drops to the ground with me, not even bothering to move the corn before his knees hit the floor. Looking around holds no more clues, there’s nothing else here. Nothing on the walls. Nothing on the floor. Nothing except the items themselves.
“The items themselves,” I ponder aloud. “Three hay bales, six grain sacks, and how many tools were there?” I ask, hoping I’m finally grasping the right straws.
“Five,” he replies, watching with interest.
“Any thoughts on the combination?” I ask, trying three reds, six yellows, and five blues.No luck.
“Give me that note,” he says, gesturing to my pocket. “There might be something in there.”
Carefully placing the box on the ground, I shuffle, pulling it out and handing it over before trying another combination to no avail. Sparing a glance at the ticking time bomb on the wall has my heart racing to a different tune.
The heat is on, and not just figuratively, and this time, we know the threat is real.
“Do you think they made it through the first one okay?” I ask, finally voicing the one thing I’ve tried my best not to think about.
“Huh, who?” Wyatt asks.
