Chapter 11 Chapter 11

The light at the end of the hallway got brighter as they walked right through it.

Leo's boots made soft sounds on the white tile. Each step echoed. He had been in the mall for four hours. His body hurt. His mind was foggy. He was just tired.

Maya walked next to him. Her hand was still bandaged. Denise followed behind. Her green eyes moved all over the place looking everywhere. The walls. The ceiling. The floor.

No one said anything. They just walked mindfully.

This hallway went on for a long time. Leo had learned that distances here did not make sense. A short hallway could take forever. A long one could end fast.

This one felt like it did not want to end.

"How much further?" Denise asked. Her voice was quiet.

Maya shook her head. "I do not know."

"You have been here three years. You must know something."

Maya stopped walking. She turned to look at Denise. Her brown eyes looked tired.

"I have been here three years," she said. "That means I have learned one thing."

"What?"

"That I do not know anything. You can never be too sure. You have seen hallways before, right? They all look the same but leading somewhere else."

Maya turned and kept walking.

Denise looked at Leo. Her eyebrows went up. Her scar pulled at her cheek.

Leo shrugged. He did not know what to say. Maya was right. The more he learned, the less he understood.

They kept walking.

The hallway finally ended.

In front of them was an elevator.

The doors were open. Inside, the walls were brass and shiny. Leo could see himself in them. He looked bad. His face was pale. There was blood on his shirt. His hair was a mess.

The floor was black tile. Small squares. Some were cracked. Some were missing.

The buttons on the side were wrong. Some numbers were upside down. Some were in a language Leo did not know. Some were blank.

Maya stepped in first. She had been in elevators like this before. Three times. Each time she survived. She stood in the corner. Her back pressed against the brass walls. Her arms crossed. “What now? Are you guys coming in or what? Waiting for the mannequins to appear huh?” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips into a straight line. Then, she shook her head. By the time she opened them, mannequins were already in the hallway.

“Hell no! She said hurriedly. Her eyes widened in shock. “They are here guys. Come in now. The elevator will close soon.”

Denise replied. “What are you talking about?” She turned around to see. They were walking slowly towards them. “My goodness! How did they get here?”

Leo didn't say anything. He just stepped in. His boots clicked on the black tile. He looked at the buttons. None of them looked right. They would have been plastic by now if they had hesitated by five seconds.

The elevator finally closed on its own.

Denise stayed at the door. Her fingers gripped the frame. Her knuckles were white.

"It is okay," Leo said. "Maya has done this before."

"Has she done it with people who survived?"

Maya looked at Denise. Her face was hard to read.

"No," she said. "The last time I was in an elevator like this, the person with me died three days later."

Denise's face went pale.

"But that was not because of the elevator," Maya said. "That was a mission. The elevator just took us there."

"That does not make me feel better."

"It was not supposed to. Just so you know, if you continue with this kind of enthusiasm, you will not make it. There are missions that will require you to think and act fast. Your life will depend on your decisions. You will make sacrifices. You might even sacrifice your own self. So both of you. Be active. This mission one is just a tip of the iceberg."

Denise stared at Maya for a moment. Leo was just looking at her confused.

For a moment nothing happened. The three of them stood in the small brass box.

Then the floor moved.

Not up. Not down. Sideways.

Leo grabbed the brass rail. “Whooow! Is this normal?”

“Yes. It is. Just hold still,” Maya said.

Denise pressed herself into the corner. Her hands were flat against the brass wall. Her eyes were wide.

"What is happening?" she asked.

"The elevator is taking us somewhere," Maya said. Her voice was calm.

"Where?"

"I do not know."

The elevator moved sideways for a few seconds. Then it went up fast. Leo's stomach dropped.

Then it went sideways again.

Then down.

Then sideways again.

Denise made a small sound. Like a whimper.

"You said you had done this before," she said to Maya.

"I have."

"You did not say it was like this."

Maya looked at her. "It is never the same. Every elevator is different."

Then the elevator stopped.

The doors opened.

Leo expected another hallway. More white walls. More red carpet.

But it was a street.

Leo stepped out. His boots touched concrete. Real concrete. Rough and cracked.

He looked up.

The sky color was wrong.

It was purple. Dark purple. Like a bruise. There were no clouds. Just a purple color sky.

The sun was low and almost touching the buildings. But the light was bright. Too bright that Leo had to squint.

The buildings looked like his city. Same brick. Same fire escapes. Same streetlights. But something was off.

The windows were too dark. The shadows were too long. The street signs had writing he could not read. Some letters were backwards.

And the city hummed. A low deep sound like a machine under the ground. Like something breathing.

Maya stepped out next to him. She looked at the sky. Then at the buildings. Suddenly now, a screen appeared in Leo's vision.

Mission One Complete. The Hollow Mall.

Survival Time: Four hours, twelve minutes.

Players Met: Two

Reward: Rusty Pocketknife.

A knife dropped into his hand almost immediately.

It was a small pocket knife. The blade had brown rust spots. The wooden handle was cracked. The edge was dull. It looked like something you would find in a gutter.

Maya looked at it. Her face did not change. "That is your reward."

"This?" Leo held it up. “Why would it only give me?” The blade caught the purple light from outside. "This piece of junk?"

"The first mission gives you a tool. Never more than that."

Leo turned the knife over in his hand. The handle was warm. Too warm. Like it had been sitting in the sun. But there was no sun here. Not really.

He closed his fingers around it.

The blade moved.

His thumb slipped or the knife slipped. Or something pushed his hand. He did not know which.

The edge cut his left palm.

Not deep. Just a line. From the base of his thumb to the edge of his wrist.