Play of Shadows

2.3: Glass Houses

“Put your pants on, at least,” Michael sighed.

Ann laughed under her breath.

The point soon became moot. No other open exhibits appeared along the group’s path nor any of the branching passageways. When the players broke through a last smattering of glass tanks and stepped onto the marked edge of an Olympic-sized pool, a door with a glowing EXIT sign on the other side, they looked far from happy.

“We must’ve missed it!” a player said, exhaustion and anger and a little bit of panic all tangled in his reedy voice.

“There were no other tanks like the diner,” Frances said. He glared down into the pool. The water shimmered, reflecting nothing.

From up above, Ann watched a great shadow uncoil in the pool, stretching its long limbs little by little.

“Maybe the other team found it?” another player offered hesitantly. Ann should probably feel bad that she couldn’t tell them apart. They were just little pins on a map to her, apples bobbing in a barrel.

Ann blinked. She had drifted off in her daze and had somehow ended up wedged in a corner, her painted body overlapping with itself like a picture folded in half. The walls of the Aquarium were made of glass, she realized. The room was enormous and dark and she had been too focused on the players to mind the décor but, now that she knew, she couldn’t help reaching out to touch. Her hand splayed out against the stone ceiling fruitlessly.

Beyond the glass wall, something moved. Something enormous. Eyes the size of the room itself peered in at Ann and curled in delight.

“-newbies and an old man with a limp. They don’t have it.”

The eyes disappeared. Ann waited and waited, but the creature didn’t return. She turned her attention back to the players whining below with a disappointed sigh.

The player making a fuss urged the group to turn back and look for the key in the other tanks. The ones that they were explicitly warned against touching.

“We are not allowed to touch the glass,” Michael said.

Ann frowned. She did not like agreeing with the man. Even when he was being reasonable.

“We do have the bat,” a woman said. The same one who had fallen into the tank. Her, Ann remembered.

The argumentative player latched on immediately. “That’s right! We don’t need to touch anything, just – swing and smash! The things in the tanks shouldn’t do so well out of water, right?”

He turned to look at Michael, as did everyone else. Michael shook his head with a sigh.

“I don’t like this, but we are running short on time,” he conceded.

“Maybe the other team –” someone began, but they were quickly interrupted by sneers.

“As if there’s anyone useful in that group.”

“Bet you they’ve lost someone already.”

Ann snorted. Mr. Glasses’ team was going strong, if slow, and that was only true because they had to stop for a dip every few turns. The open exhibits did appear at random, but random meant little when it was confined to a specific area. The young swimmer had to tap out for another player after tank four. They had already explored a music room, an old-fashioned classroom, wiggled down a tall vertical tank filled with lush roses and jasmine and pale forget-me-nots.

When a player spluttered to the surface of tank number ten, a key clutched in his hand, Ann wasn’t at all surprised. The group cheered. 

“It was behind one of the paintings,” the boy said, grinning victoriously.