“I’m not dead. You’re not dead. We’re not dead!” Oliver pressed his fingers to his pulse on his neck, his wrist, his chest. “I can’t feel my heartbeat. I can’t feel my heartbeat.”

  Caleb froze. The angel shimmered in place, its expression stoic.

  YOU ARE DEAD

  He had seen that phrase in blood before. Caleb leant over the table. The angel smelled subtly sweet, just a hint of marshmallow. The closer he tried to inspect it, the less he could see. Its shape trembled in place with every slight move of wind. He blew in its face and a clear wave of air shifted its face before moving back into perfect place.

  “We’re dead.” Caleb said. He studied the angel’s face for a reaction. “But then it said New Life.”

  The angel glimmered. For just a nanosecond, a thin arrow appeared above its head then disappeared. The arrow pointed square at Oliver.

  Caleb tried to turn on the spot, but found that his body was no longer reacting to his brain’s commands. Then, on a second or so delay, he moved.

  “Christ. It feels like I’m walking in molasses.”

  Oliver nodded. “Me too. It’s like we’re in a goddamn PS1 game.”

  We’re in a game? Caleb thought. It doesn’t feel real. His heart raced, panic setting in. His vision started to blur at the edges, an encroaching circle threatening to immerse him in eternal darkness.

  “Health kits. Med Packs. Herbs. Where are they?”

  “Herbs?! Do you think this is a real restaurant? Help me!”

  “I’m trying! Ugh. What do we call them? First Aid Kits.”

  “There’s one in that drawer over there.” Oliver groaned. “Oh god. I’m dead. I’ve got no heartbeat. I’m dead. Why is it taking me so long to die? Wait. Am I dead already? Is this hell?”

  So much for strong leadership, Caleb thought. He edged his way to the drawer.

  “Why do you have a mahogany chest of drawers here?” He tried to open it. “It’s locked.”

  He brushed his finger over the burnished silver keyhole and it shimmered like the angel.

  “What are you talking about?” Oliver said, still clutching his chest. He looked over. “Oh, that’s not my drawer. Hey, I don’t feel too good.”

  Caleb could feel it too. He looked down to see a bloodstain spreading across his stomach at an alarming rate. It started to drip to the floor.

  “Oh god, you’re bleeding now. None of this makes sense.”

  “It’s the tutorial.” Caleb shouted, limping back towards the table. “We need to learn how to heal ourselves.”

  “That shouldn’t be the first thing you have to learn!”

  Oliver was right.

  Healing must be the most important mechanic in whatever this world was. That means we’re in for a world of hurt…

  “Keys. Where do you store the keys?”

  “In my pocket!” Oliver’s voice started to fray from all the shouting. “But it’s not there. Nothing’s in my pockets any more.” He rifled through his pants. His eyebrows raised in confusion. “Except this…”

  Oliver produced a circular tin. He ran his fingers around it to look for an opening.

  “It’s not a box.” Caleb said. “It’s an ink ribbon. Keep it safe. We’ll need it later.”

  “Wait.” Oliver put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder and squeezed. “Do you know where we are, man?”

  Caleb shook his head. “No. But some things are recognizable.” He felt stupid trying to explain it. “It’s like a game, okay. Don’t interrogate me. Ask that guy!”

  Caleb pointed at the manager’s desk. The angel was gone.

  “Is this whole thing your weird little plan?” Oliver’s eyes narrowed. He palmed his fist to make a clapping sound that echoed around the room. “You think you’re like Jigsaw or something? Set up this whole escape room bullshit as revenge?”

  “What, no. Of course not.” Caleb’s hand was glued to his side with blood now. His vision was beginning to blur at the edges, turning his field of view circular. Just then, he caught a glint of light from behind an air vent high up on the wall.

  “Wait. Grab that chair. Look. Do you see that?”

  Oliver squinted. “Yeah, I see it. You think that’s the key?”

  “Pretty sure.” The blood left a trail behind Caleb now. “Grab a chair.”

  Oliver grasped through the air, failing utterly. “I can’t pick it up.”

  “Push it from the side.” Caleb said, miming pushing the chair with both hands. Pain surged through his weeping stomach.

  Caleb groaned as he pushed the table across the room until it lined up with the vent. “It’s like the damn thing’s made of concrete.”

  “Nearly there. Step up and reach into the grate.”

  “Okay…” It took a few tries before Oliver managed to get up on the chair. They were just so clumsy in this new world.

  “Can you see it?”

  “It’s still just a flash of light. I can’t see anything else. Are you sure it’s the key? It could be an air con warning light or something.”

  “Have you ever noticed a light in that vent before?’ Caleb was starting to lose his patience.

  “I’ve never noticed a vent there before!” Oliver said.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  “Well, if it’s new, it’s probably part of whatever this is. Is the grate loose?”

  Oliver shook it. “ Yeah, it seems to be. There aren’t any screws holding it in place.”

  Caleb drummed his fingers across his side before remembering:

  Oh yeah, I’m dying.

  The pool of blood around him grew at an alarm rate.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  “I.. Uh. I don’t want to put my hand in there, Caleb.”

  All the anger and frustration was gone from Oliver’s voice, replaced with a childlike whine. He sounded vulnerable.

  “What do you mean, Oliver? We need the key. We need to get out of here. Think about everyone else stuck in here.”

  “I think there’s something in the vents.”

  It wasn’t a new concept. Caleb had only been working there a few weeks, but he was already used to saying hello to a little black rat or two.

  “It’s probably mice or rats or something. No biggie.”

  “C’mere,” Oliver beckoned. “And listen.”

  Oliver shuffled over, nearly slipping on his own blood, and put his ear to the wall.

  Something scuttled.

  Something scraped.

  Something screeched.

  “That ain’t no mouse.”

  Caleb shuddered. “Those angels are just trying to scare us.”

  “Wait, angels? I didn’t peg you as the religious type.”

  “What do you think they looked like then?” Caleb replied.

  Oliver shrugged. “Fair enough. Angels it is.” He turned back to the grate. “Alright, I’ll go for it. But I’m gonna be quick.”

  Caleb wondered how big something that could screech like that was. “Yeah. Be real quick.”

  Oliver wrested the grate from the wall and a sparking cable leapt out into his face. He fell to the floor, screaming. The cable flailed from the hole in the wall, then lost power and died.

  “Are you okay?” Caleb asked. The way things were going, he expected the worst.

  Oliver covered his smoking face with his hands. He removed them to reveal a shining silver skeleton key. “Got it!”

  Caleb laughed. “You scared the shit out of me.” He coughed. His vision was almost down to a pinprick of light. “Now let’s get that drawer open.”

  Oliver threw the key to Caleb. Against all odds, he caught it. He shuffled over to the drawers and put the key into the lock. It clicked and the drawer popped open.

  Inside the drawer was a single roll of medical tape. Caleb ripped the plastic wrap off and started to wrap the gauze around his waist. When he finished, it disappeared into his body. The bloodstain on his shirt disappeared and his full vision returned.

  “Phew,” he said. “Shit, did you need any of that?”

  Oliver whistled. “Nope. All good here.” He crouched down like he was about to jump, but nothing. “Well, apart from this movement issue. It seems like we’ve got to shuffle about in this world like we’re 100 years old.”

  Caleb scoured the room. “Okay, so we’re not going to die again any time soon. There’s nothing else in the drawer. We still can’t open the main door?”

  Oliver tried it again. “It’s locked tight.”

  Other than the manager’s desk, the vent and the mahogany drawer, the place was empty. The two sat back down at the manager’s desk.

  “Maybe I want to be a slightly better worker now.” Caleb mused.

  “Oh, after I practically saved your life? If I knew that all I had to do was something easy like that, I would have shot you in the gut myself just to patch you up again the first time you were late.”

  Caleb chuckled.

  “We used to have another cabinet over there,” Oliver gestured to the blank cream wall stained with damp.

  “How do you think the others are doing?” Caleb wanted to take the subject away from their impending doom.

  “I figure Kayleigh’s pretty resourceful. And if they run into trouble, Dave’s pretty handy in a fight.”

  Oliver was right. A few weeks ago, someone tried to rob them. Dave pulled the balaclava down over the guy’s eyes and rammed his head through the counter. He carried him to the back of the store on his back and nobody saw the criminal again. When Caleb asked if he needed to call the cops, Dave simply said: “No need. He won’t be back.”

  “So, what good are we?” Caleb didn’t like his chances if he had to fight for his life.

  “Well, we’re the brains of the group. Looks like this world is pretty heavy on puzzles.”

  “I guess that’s why I didn’t fit in down in the kitchen.”

  “Yeah, you were obviously going to go on to better things. I figured there was no harm in humbling you a little.”

  Caleb thought for a moment. “So much for brains. We can’t even get out of this room. I wish I could get a hint.”

  The vent shimmered. “Did you see that?” Caleb lumbered to his feet.

  “The air vent! This place is all connected by a system of ducts. That’s how we get back downstairs. That’s how we get out of here.”

  Oliver recoiled like Caleb just asked to kiss his mother. “I’m not going in there. Did you not hear that thing in there?”

  Caleb decided to flat-out deny reality. “Like I said, it’s rats. Who else do you think bites the little holes in our potato bags?”

  Oliver exhaled. “Look, if you’re so sure, you’re going first.”

  Caleb nodded. “Fine. But you better be right on my tail.”

  Oliver smiled, but his eyes seemed dead. “Of course. You can trust me.”

  It was tricky balancing on the chair. If Caleb thought about shifting even a millimetre in the wrong direction, his whole body threw itself back to the floor. So frustrating. Eventually, Caleb realised he had to input the slightest directional input and then stop, wait for his body to respond, and correct. Eventually he got himself lined up with the vent.

  “Can you get in there?”

  “I’m not sure. Wait…” Caleb grabbed the ledge and automatically pulled himself up into the vent without even thinking about it.

  “Yep, it’s easy. We’re definitely supposed to go in here. I’m going to move down a little, then you can come up.”

  It was tight in the air vent. There was no room to turn around, and Caleb could barely see over his own shoulder. He heard Oliver clamber into the air vent.

  “Do you hear anything?” The echoing steel enclosure amplified Oliver’s ragged breathing.

  Caleb put his ear to the metal. “No. Not yet. But I don’t want to be in here long. Let’s get downstairs.”

  Shuffling slowly through the air vent, Caleb came to another grate. He peered in to see a broom closet.

  “Why are you stopping? Oliver asked in irritation.

  Caleb studied the moldy mop and bucket of grey water. On closer inspection, it wasn’t mold. It was coagulated blood.

  “Is there someone in there or something?”

  “No. I don’t think so. When you go past, tell me if that room was always there.”

  Caleb shuffled along so Oliver could get a good look.

  “Kind of. We kept the extra uniforms in there. It wasn’t that shape, though. It was more rectangular. And the mop was clean. Wait. There’s something coming in. Look.”

  A middle-aged man hobbled into the room, clutching his chest. A familiar pattern of blood bloomed across his white shirt. He slammed the door shut, whimpering.

  “Crisp White Shirt.” murmured Oliver. “I don’t know his real name. He’s a customer. He comes in three times a week for lunch. Double Squish Burger. Small fry. Latte. Never gets a single crumb on his clean shirt. And the guy loves ketchup.”

  Crisp White Shirt grabbed the mop. He wielded it like a mighty sword, stepping back until his spine pressed against the wall.

  “C’mon!” He shouted. “I know you’re out there, you bitch!” The customer was exhausted, but he clearly had some fight left in him.

  The door creaked as it slowly opened. A chipped, dulled and bloodied blade buried itself into the wood, splintering the door.

  A gaunt figure shambled into the room.. It wore a stained and ripped butcher’s uniform, only its skin had been pulled to the back of its head and nailed in place. Limp strands of greasy hair framed its starved face. It wore a makeshift burlap sack that struggled to cover its head.

  The creature rushed Crisp White Shirt with bladed tonfas raised and fangs bared. He raised the broom to strike, but the gaunt snapped it in two like it was a twig.

  “Oh god…” whispered Caleb, his eyes watering. Crisp White Shirt swivelled back and tried to escape, but there was nowhere to run. Just the blank wall and the vent. The doomed man looked up to the heavens, locking eyes with Caleb just as the monster sunk its diseased blades into his neck.