Would You Rather

CH. 1 : PLAY OR DIE

Drool spilled out across the table, and Matt opened his eyes just in time to hear someone slam down a fist. His first thought was, what the hell? He lifted his head and discreetly wiped away the drool. The lavish room was covered in plastic.

"So where's Mrs. Holmes? You're not Mrs. Holmes." Said a male voice that belonged to a boy who paced.

There were four of them in total. Matt guessed they were all about the same age, except for one, he looked a few years older—maybe a senior in high school—who peeled back a curtain of plastic revealing a window, but behind that window was cement.

"Who are you guys?" Repeated the same voice, it belonged to sandy blond haired kid.

"I don't know," said the older boy. "Me and this guy just woke up." His thumb jutted out towards Matt.

All eyes seemed to jump to him. He felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny and his eyes sought to look anywhere. The room was tight and dimly lit by a lone chandelier. There were oil paintings and a table set for four. On every plates center a small card was folded in place and in cursive written on each was scrambled letters.

"My shoulders killing me."

"I think I've been drugged!"

"Anyone have a phone?"

"No, mines gone."

"What the hell is going on?"

"How did we get here, man?"

Their terrified words jumbled together as Matt followed a bright blue wire that ran along the plastic ... a cord. Nearsighted, he needed to squint real hard to see the brilliant red light and the small camera lens. They were being watched.

"Guys," Matt stood lifting a hand to point. Three pairs of eyes followed. "We're being watched."

The sandy blond haired kid, who's face was splattered with freckles gripped his locks anxiously. "Oh, man, it's a serial killer. I've seen stuff like this go down on Dateline. It never ends—"

"Will you please shut the hell up?" The older boy shoved his hands against the blond kid.

"I was—I'm just trying to tell you, this is a—"

"Shut up!"

Matt stumbled forward between the pair before a fight broke loose, holding a hand out towards either of them. His light eyes darted back towards the kid who still hadn't moved from his seat and hadn't said a word; he looked sickly pale. "Guys whoever is behind this, if they wanted us dead, we would be dead, okay? Maybe we could start with something simple first before we start looking around, like names, I'm Matt."

The older boy stepped back, gave a nod. "Tyler."

"Sam," said the blond.

They all expectantly looked to the last nameless one who slumped back in his seat. "Brian," they heard him mumble. He definitely wasn't looking to good.

"Are you alright, Brian?" Matt asked taking a few cautious steps closer. There was visible sweat dripping from the guys jawline and wetting his plaid shirt.

"I'm a diabetic..." Brian's throat bobbed when he swallowed and his voice cracked and his head collapsed to his chest.

All the boys looked to each other; none of them were exactly medical scholars. Matt dropped to a knee next to the kid and patted his jeans pockets quickly. He had to have his medicine one him right?

"Is he dead?" Asked Sam.

Matt pressed two fingers against the soft side of Brian's throat, there was a small fragile beat. "He has to be going into some kind of shock or something!" Matt desperately hauled the unconscious boy forward, his face slumped onto the desk as Matt's hands checked every pocket. Where is it? Where is it?

"Salvation lies within." Read Tyler who stood at the tables head.

Matt pressed himself up scurrying around the table to see what was in Tyler's grasp. It was an odd looking thing. It was long and round with hundreds of letters wrapped around its metal body. "Give me that. It's a word cryptex."

"What is a cryptex?"

"It's kind of a lock box. You need a password to open it."

Sam dug his hands down into his jeans, starting to stutter. "Wh-what should we do? We need something or he's gonna—he's gonna die."

Fiddling with the cryptex and shuffling around letters a small rattle from within could be heard. Matt lifted it to his ear and shook. There was something in there and he was willing to bet it was actually Brian's medicine. His eyes scanned the room. It had to be right there, right in his face, he was just overlooking it. Think...Think. Think. Think. Ok, breathe Matt. The large oil painting that bore an ugly face stood out to him the most. It was large, plain, and in their faces.

He knocked aside flaps of plastic, looking up at the old woman. He was so close he could actually make out the individual brush strokes—but no clues—until a thought struck him hard. His bitten fingertips pulled at the painting until it unhooked itself from the wall and came down with him. A clue was there, it had to be. Flipping the painting over in his arms there was a folded white piece tucked away neatly in its upper corner. Matt unfolded the wad of paper that had nine letters pressed into.

A-D-E-I-L-O-P-R-Y

"What does it mean?" Sam came over looking from the painting to the paper.

Matt shook his head, dark pieces of hair fell into his eyes. "I don't know...a word, a phrase?"

"Hurry up guys, Brian's not doing so hot." Tyler patted the side of the unconscious kids face as if subtly trying to slap him awake.

Matt's heart drummed in his ear, it was deafening. His eyes darted from letter to letter trying to form something that would make sense. "Uh, dairy pole? No. I play doer—A dire ploy."

Sam grabbed onto Matt's forearm, his fingers squeezing. "Play or die."

"What?"

"It's play or die, that's the phrase. Put it in that thing, dude!"

Matt's sweaty palms turned the cryptex around and his thumbs went to work, pushing and twisting until each letter set in each slot spelt out the phrase : play or die.

The cryptex clicked as the end popped open.