The Escape Room Read online

  “Where do we get the clues?”

  “Oh, right. That’s an important detail.” He grinned embarrassedly and admitted, “This is only my third day, so I’m still learning the ropes. Anyway, the first clue will drop in through a mail slot behind the desk when you close the doors. They’ll lock automatically and the clock will start, so leave the doors open until you’re ready to begin. The first puzzle will lead you to your next clue, which will lead you to the one after that, and so on. They’re hidden all around the room. The final puzzle will reveal the code that stops the clock and unlocks the doors.”

  “Got it.”

  “Since you’re here as part of a special prize package, take as much time as you want before you start the countdown. I put you in our best room, and I hope you have fun,” Benji said. “You can head to the top floor if you want. Your room is straight ahead when you reach the landing, the one with the open double doors. I’ll brief your date and send him up when he arrives.”

  As I climbed the stairs, my worry about who exactly would be showing up began to escalate. At least we’d have some time to get to know each other before the game started. If we totally failed to get along, I could always invent an excuse and leave before we got locked in together.

  My concerns were temporarily forgotten when I reached the impressive third-floor library. It looked like it had been transplanted directly from the late eighteen-hundreds, with a few exceptions, including the very modern door lock with a touch pad. The digital display above the intercom wasn’t exactly period either, although the screen had been placed in an antique frame to jazz it up a bit.

  It felt like a real room in someone’s home, as opposed to a collection of props in a place of business. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a large writing desk, and a comfortable-looking seating area in front of a brick fireplace. The best feature was the room’s only window, which I’d noticed when I was on the sidewalk. It was a round, stained glass masterpiece nearly five feet in diameter. Since it was both late in the afternoon and overcast outside, the colors were muted, which was a shame. The stained glass was probably amazing when the sun shone through it.

  I did a slow lap around the room and noticed a half-bath through a connecting door behind the desk. I also paused to check out a small table, which had been positioned near the fireplace. It was draped with a crisp, white tablecloth and held a bouquet of red roses, along with a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket and two glasses. There were also chocolate-dipped strawberries on a fancy tray and a trio of cream-colored pillar candles, which proved to be battery-operated on closer inspection. A rainbow-striped card read: We hope you get lucky in love! Courtesy of Heart2Heart, the premiere dating app for the LGBTQ community. The ‘lucky in love’ part was highly unlikely, but the champagne and berries were a nice gesture.

  A loud clap of thunder startled me. It was followed almost immediately by a flash of lightning, which brought the stained glass to life for a split second. I peered through one of the clear panels in the window’s symmetrical, starburst pattern and noticed it had started raining. The street was nearly deserted, except for a lone figure dressed in black, who was holding an umbrella and running down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. When he crossed the road and disappeared beneath the roof of the porch, I realized that was probably my date.

  My stomach knotted with anxiety, for no good reason. This wasn’t even a date. It was just some silly thing I’d agreed to do, because I was tired of seeing the worry and pity in everyone’s eyes when they looked at me. God, was I tired of that.

  A few long minutes ticked by. Finally, the sound of footsteps drifted up the stairwell, and I turned to face the double doors. My back was pressed to the window, so it wasn’t possible to retreat any further. As my heart started to race, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and focused all my attention on whoever was about to appear at the top of the stairs.

  I glimpsed spiky, pink hair a moment before the annoying guy from the bar bounded onto the landing. It was like flipping a switch, and I went from panicked to exasperated in an instant. But I could cope with that a hell of a lot better than my anxiety, so in a way, he was the perfect person for this. I already knew I didn’t like him, so the pressure was off.

  His face lit up when he saw me, and he exclaimed, “Oh wow, it’s you! I totally remember you from the bar. Do you remember me?” He grabbed the double doors with both hands and swung them shut before hurrying toward me and saying, “I’m Ryan Sullivan. The guy downstairs said your name is Patrick Wilson, but that you like to go by Rick. Is that right?”

  Before I could reply, the door locks engaged, and a manila envelope dropped into a wall-mounted basket behind the desk. As the numbers 02:00:00 appeared in red on the digital readout, then immediately changed to 01:59:59 and began counting down, I asked, “Didn’t Benji tell you what happens when you close the doors?”

  Ryan stopped in his tracks, and his blue eyes went wide as he blurted, “Oh! Shoot, I forgot. You know what, though? Benji said we can call him on the intercom if we need anything, and I’m sure he’ll give us a do-over.” I held back a sigh and turned toward the bottle of champagne, because this was clearly going to require alcohol.

  In the next instant, we both jumped at a loud boom. The room was plunged into semidarkness, and Ryan asked, “What just happened?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say lightning struck a transformer.”

  “Is that bad?”

  I peered through a clear pane in the stained glass and said, “It’s not great. From what I can see, the traffic lights are out, and all the buildings on the block are dark. But the city’s used to dealing with stuff like this, so the power will probably be back soon.”

  “That’s true. No need to panic.” Ryan finished crossing the room and smiled up at me, and then he randomly said, “You’re tall. I like that.”

  “Not really. I’m five-eleven.”

  “Well, when you’re five-foot-seven, everyone seems tall.”

  “I suppose so.”

  He said, “Sorry I was late, by the way. I came straight from work. I’m a barista, and the guy who was supposed to take over for me never showed. I had to beg and plead to get out of there. Finally, my manager said he was letting me go just to shut me up.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I feel bad about keeping you waiting. Plus, it doesn’t make a very good first impression.”

  I decided not to tell him that ship had sailed last weekend. Instead, I muttered, “It’s fine. Really.”

  He was dressed in black jeans and a form-fitting black T-shirt, which emphasized his slender body. When he touched his cheek, I noticed his short nails were polished to match his outfit. “Normally, I would have done my makeup before a date. I’d have worn something more fun, too. But I was already late, so I had to skip all of that.” He had a soft voice, and a note of self-consciousness crept in when he said, “I hope you’re not too disappointed. I wanted to look nice for you, but instead I just ended up ordinary.”

  That insecurity made him seem vulnerable all of a sudden, and I told him, “You look great.” He perked up a bit and flashed me a smile.

  Just then, Benji rattled the doorknobs and called, “Are you guys alright?”

  I crossed the room and tried the door too, but it was locked. I said, “We’re fine, but how do we get out of here?”

  “I have no idea. I thought the doors would unlock automatically when the power went out. Hang on, let me try calling my uncle.”

  I turned to Ryan, who was right beside me. He was holding one of the pillar candles above his head and looking at its base, and he said, “Did you know these are fake? It’s made to look like a flickering candle, but there’s a bulb inside it and a battery door on the bottom. Why would anyone want something like this?”

  “Because real candles are dangerous.”

  “They’re also pretty, and romantic. This is just kind of meh.” He glanced at the window and added, “But since th
e sun’s setting, I guess it’s a good thing we have these fake-ass candles. It’s going to be pitch black in here pretty soon.”

  He was right about that. I knocked on the door and asked, “What’s your uncle saying, Benji?”

  The kid called, “Just a minute.”

  Ryan carried the candle over to the bookshelves and started perusing the titles. After a while, probably just to break the silence, he asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a fifth-grade science teacher.”

  He turned to me and said, “I was sure you were going to say you’re a dancer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the way you carry yourself.”

  “Well, you’re not wrong. I’ve been studying ballet since I was five, and I’m part of a dance troupe here in Oakland, but that’s just for fun. I don’t dance for a living.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not good enough. I was great when I was a kid, but not anymore. At my age, there’s not much chance of turning things around.”

  He returned to my side and asked, “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-one. What about you?”

  “Twenty-five. Why don’t you think you’re good enough?”

  “I’m just not,” I said. “Technically, I do everything right. But the feedback I’ve been getting is that I need to loosen up, and that I hold too much of myself back.” I suspected that applied to more than just the way I danced.

  Ryan asked, “Can’t you do something about that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s frustrating. I try so hard and push myself to the absolute limit of what my body can do, but it’s still not enough, and…why am I telling you this?”

  He said, “Because you have nothing better to do.”

  I directed the conversation away from me by asking, “What about you? What do you do besides working as a barista?” As I leaned against the door, I could hear Benji talking to his uncle, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  “My dream is to become a famous makeup artist. That’s what I absolutely love, and what I’m passionate about. But right now, I’m not even working in the industry.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked defeated as he said, “I’ve been trying, but nobody’s all that interested in what I do. I guess I’m just not skilled or talented enough.”

  “Maybe you just need the right inspiration.”

  “Maybe that’s true for you too, with your dancing.” He probably had a point, but I regretted letting the conversation turn personal, so I just shrugged.

  Benji called, “Um, guys? We have a slight problem. I just got off the phone with my uncle Sy. Apparently something went wrong.”

  I asked, “Could you be more specific?”

  “When the power goes out, the door locks are supposed to disengage, so our customers don’t get trapped. But that didn’t actually happen.”

  “Okay. So, what’s the plan for getting us out of here?”

  “My uncle’s going to call around and try to find us an electrician, but he said he might not be able to get anyone out here until tomorrow morning. Most places close at six, and the ones that offer twenty-four-hour service may be swamped, depending on how widespread the power outage is and how much trouble it’s causing.”

  I asked Ryan, “Are you claustrophobic, diabetic, or anything else that might present a problem in the near future?” When he shook his head, I told Benji, “We’ll be alright in here until your uncle finds someone, or until the city gets the power back up, whichever comes first. It’s rarely down more than a couple of hours anyway.”

  Benji asked, “Are you sure? I could bust out the fire axe and try to hack through the door, but that seems a bit extreme.”

  I grinned a little as I pictured him reenacting Jack Nicholson’s famous scene from The Shining, and then I said, “We don’t quite need that level of intervention, but let us know if you figure out how to trip those locks. In the meantime, we’ll just make ourselves comfortable.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding. Can you imagine what the fire marshal would do if he found out our doors stayed locked in an emergency? Not that you guys wanted to be our guinea pigs or anything, but I guess it’s good that we found out about the problem now, and not like, when the building was on fire.” Benji was quiet for a moment, and then he added, “Um, don’t think about the building burning down, because that’s totally not going to happen. Even if a fire does break out, I’ve got that axe to bust you out of there.” Given the size of the kid and the thickness of the door, that actually seemed pretty unlikely.

  A worry line appeared between Ryan’s dark brows, and I asked Benji, “Can you get out of the building if you need to?”

  “Yeah, the front door has manual locks.”

  “So, if there was a fire, you’d escape that way, and Ryan and I would throw a chair through the window and lower ourselves onto the roof of the porch, which is directly below it. I’d hate to destroy that work of art, but if it’s between us and the stained glass, there’s no contest.”

  “For sure,” Benji said. “Okay, so, I’m going to head downstairs and do an internet search on my phone. Maybe there’s some information to be found on springing faulty locking mechanisms. If you need me, knock real loud and I’ll hear you. Speaking of phones, I thought about slipping yours under the door, but when I tried it with mine, it didn’t fit.”

  After Benji left, Ryan murmured, “I wasn’t scared about being trapped in here until he started talking about the building catching on fire.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” He gave me a hug, and I was surprised by how small and fragile he felt in my arms.

  “Come on,” I said, after he let go of me and took a step back. “Let’s see if we can find anything to help with the fact that it’s getting dark and cold in here.”

  We searched the room but didn’t come up with anything useful, and eventually we ended up on the couch. When Ryan shivered a little, I took off my hoodie and draped it over his shoulders. Then I asked, “Are you hungry? Since you came here straight from work, you probably didn’t have time to eat dinner.”

  He admitted he was starving, so I brought over the tray of berries and the champagne. I also clustered the trio of candles on the coffee table, and they formed a little island of light around us in the gathering darkness.

  I sat on the couch and glanced at Ryan as he ate. There was something about the way he savored the berries that made me ask, “Did you have anything to eat today?” He shook his head. “What about yesterday?”

  “Yesterday was awesome. They were going to throw out a bunch of day-old muffins at work, but the manager said I could take them home. My roommates and I had a feast.”

  “Do you have a family?”

  “Not since I was sixteen,” he said. “That’s when my parents and I had a difference of opinion.”

  “About what?”

  “About me being gay, and them still wanting me as their son.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  He asked, “Do your parents know you’re gay?”

  “Yeah. I came out to my dad when I was twelve and my mom about a year later. He totally took it in stride, which I always knew he would. She ended up being alright with it, too. It just took her a little while to come to terms with it.”

  “How did you manage to go an extra year without telling your mom?”

  I said, “Well, they were divorced by that point, and she’d moved back to Busan. It’s—”

  “A port city at the southern end of the Korean peninsula.”

  “Yeah. A lot of people don’t know that.”

  “I love playing trivia, so I study different subjects, including geography,” he said. “There’s a local pub that hosts trivia night every Wednesday, and I rarely miss it. First prize is a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate, and they have the best bar menu. Whenever I win, it feels l
ike Christmas.” It made me happy when he smiled. Worry had acted like a dimmer switch on his radiant personality, and I found I actually missed his enthusiasm.

  “No wonder you chose the escape room raffle prize. I bet you would have been great at it.”

  “I’d always wanted to do one of these, but they’re kind of expensive.”

  I said, “Same here.”

  “Maybe Benji will let us come back and try it some other time.”

  “I’m sure he will. But for now, we could still play,” I told him. “The first clue is sitting right across the room. We won’t be working against the clock, but it might still be fun.”

  “That’d be great! I’d been looking forward to it all week.”

  “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but how did you afford that event last Saturday night? I only ask because the tickets weren’t cheap, and it sounds like money is pretty tight.”

  He glanced at me, then broke eye contact and mumbled, “A friend had an extra ticket, so he gave it to me.” I was pretty sure he was lying, but my question had been rude anyway, so I didn’t call him on it.

  He finished the strawberry he’d been nibbling on, then shifted around so he was facing me and said, “I was pretty drunk that night, so I’m sorry if I was obnoxious. I lost count of how many of those free ‘heart2heartinis’ I had, and people kept buying me drinks on top of that. At one point, did I barge in on you in the restroom? I have a weird partial memory of something like that.”

  “Yeah. You were making out with some big jock, and the two of you pushed your way into my stall and knocked my phone into the toilet.”

  He looked mortified. “I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you a new phone. It’ll take me a while, but—”