CHUM

Chapter 6: The Game is Afoot

There's a buzz then a tinkling sound as soon as I reach the bottom of the stair, and my spark club surges full of power, like it just plugged into an invisible socket. I make a few practice swipes in the air like my ancient samurai ancestors would do, then hit the trigger. White bolts of electricity sizzle between the prongs. It crackles, and the walls flash white, blinding me; I almost drop it. Stars float in front of my face. It startled me, I guess. I put it away on my belt.

Only in case of emergency, I think. I couldn't bring myself to use it on anybody. Except maybe Marcus.

There's a dark, narrow hallway at the bottom of the stairs. It's so narrow it'll scrape my elbows off if I don't hold them in close as I run. Everything is cramped down here, like I'm in a clubhouse built for little kids. Submarines are the same way too, from what I hear, except this place is made out of wood. The further I go, the less light there is - all I get is a few dusty sunbeams filtering through narrow gaps in the boards overhead. The whole place is musty too, like it's short on air, and moldy as bread.

I'm not sure what to do next, except look for Chums, so I keep running.

The hallway dead ends. It's lit up by the numbers 1, 2 and 3, each outlined in flashing light bulbs at the end of the hall. There's a red door under the number 1, a blue one under number 2, and a yellow door under number 3.

I stop. This decision could make all the difference. I'd heard a poem once about exactly this thing, except it was in a forest, and it was a split in a path, and there wasn't a million dollars in the poem. I try to guess which one a champion would choose. Nothing too obvious, but nothing too unlikely either. You have to outwit the masterminds behind these things.

So I choose the yellow one. "What's behind door number 3?" I mutter, and push on it. It swings away from me. Behind it is a small room the size of a closet. There's a faint blue flashing arrow pointing into a square hole. A ladder leads downward.

I get close enough to peer down over the edge. It's dark down there, and hard to tell how far down the hole goes.

I set my feet on the rungs and squeeze my shoulders down, then lower myself into darkness. It's only a few round rungs then a short drop to the ground. My sandals hit the floor.

This hallway is different. It's even narrower, and it runs directly underneath the one above, as far as I can tell. It's darker too, since the sunbeams don't make it this far down. I'd have a hard time squeezing past anyone who got in my way. There's a cluster of three cameras, all pointed in different directions, screwed into the ceiling, blinking and staring at me, watching my every move.

I flash a smile. I need to show the folks back at home who's champ.

Beneath the cameras are three round openings cut into the wall, just large enough to crawl into, one on top of another.

I choose the highest one, because it's the hardest to get to, and that's what a winner would do. I scramble up to it, using the other holes as steps, then rest my belly on the tube until I can heave myself in and get on my knees. It's metal - this must be a newer part of the ship. I crawl inside, and the tube turns right. So do I. I imagine this is what a hamster feels like.

In a few feet the tube bends straight down. There's a floor six feet down, so I twist around to my back and slide feet first down out of the tube. I hit the floor with a thud. I'm in another damp, musky passageway a few yards long. There's a single, electric light bulb screwed into the ceiling. It casts a weak yellow light in a narrow pool around it. Everything else is dark.