"I've got a suggestion," Jim said, leaning across the booth in a small 24-hour family diner. "Why not just stay here for your plan?"
"Here?" Jason blinked.
"Yeah. This place is public, open all night. There'll be more witnesses. Seems perfect."
Jason glanced around—families with kids, a couple of college students, waitstaff chatting at the counter. "True…"
He frowned. "But what if they force their way in anyway?"
Jim didn't believe a word of Jason's 'game' theory, but he humored him. The guy clearly wasn't well—better to play along than push too hard.
"Even if they're that powerful," Jim said, gesturing out the window with his fork toward the crowded street, "this is a hard place to make someone disappear without a trace."
Jason considered it. "Yeah… that is a good idea."
Jim smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I'll stay with you all night if you need me."
Jason forced a smile back. "Thanks."
—
"We couldn't meet at 9. That's the game's due time," Liam explained.
Alex nodded. "It's 8:56."
Felicia was already in position outside the apartment, her camera hidden, aimed through the window. Watching. Recording.
"Let's answer now. I vote Sahara," Liam said.
"Yeah," Caitlyn agreed, chewing a mouthful of pizza. "We're not exactly geared up for the cold."
Liam tapped the Sahara option on his phone. Caitlyn followed. Then they turned to Alex.
"Would you rather spend a night in Antarctica or an afternoon in the Sahara?" Liam asked.
"Sahara," Alex answered.
He looked over at Caitlyn, who was clearly enjoying her food. "Have you eaten today?" he asked Liam.
Liam shook his head. "No appetite."
"Hmph."
Caitlyn held out a slice. "Want one?"
He stared at the slice—already bitten—then she blushed, retracting it. "Sorry, that was gross. You can take another one."
"Thanks," he said, grabbing a fresh slice from the box. He hadn't realized how empty he felt until now.
Oddly, despite the hour, neither of them felt tired from sleeplessness. Just hungry.
—
"So… what's going to happen now?" Heather asked.
"I don't know," Samantha said softly.
"What happened the last two nights?"
"The first night, I just… slept. The second…" She hesitated.
"You don't have to tell me."
Heather glanced at the clock. "It's late. We should get ready for your plan."
"Right."
Samantha's plan was borderline absurd—layering as many clothes as humanly possible. She'd figured out from the last game that nothing in her pockets got transported into the game, only what she wore. So now, shirt over shirt, jacket over jacket, scarf, hat, thermal socks, boots—enough to survive an Antarctic night. Maybe enough to share with others once she arrived.
Both of them waddled out of the bedroom like overstuffed mascots.
—
9:56 p.m.
The pizza was gone. The hidden camera was rolling. Liam, Caitlyn, and Alex sat on the apartment floor, waiting.
"I need to use the restroom," Liam said, excusing himself.
He wasn't going in there to use the toilet.
Gripping the sides of the sink, Liam stared into the mirror. The reflection looked back at him with contempt. He hated that version of himself—especially with the thoughts that had begun creeping in.
The idea disgusted him. Yet it lingered. Like someone whispering in his head, promising control.
"Fuck you," he muttered to the voice.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic packet. Inside was a tiny foldable knife.
Earlier, he and Caitlyn had returned briefly to his dorm, he found a strange briefcase on his bed. Inside: a stack of cash—$5,000. He didn't count. He just knew.
He'd packed the knife then.
He held the plastic packet in front of his face for a long time, jaw tight. The memory of that empty bed burned into his mind.
Eventually, he tucked the packet into his mouth. His experiment in the last game showed anything held in the mouth got transported. Pockets couldn't hold anything, but the human body can.
Just as he turned to leave the bathroom, the sudden wave of exhaustion hit him.
—
Back at the diner, the time clicked to 10:00 p.m.
The lights cut out.
Gasps echoed around the room.
"Shit, that's bad—"
**Thump.**
Jason collapsed face-first onto the table before Jim could finish.
"Jason? Jason!" Jim shook him, panic creeping in. "Jason?!"
A gloved hand landed gently on Jim's shoulder.
He barely had time to turn before a needle slipped into the back of his neck. His vision blurred. Muscles gave out.
**Thump.**
A server stepped closer, squinting in the dark. "Hey… what's going on over there?"
"Ah, no worries," a man said smoothly. "Our friends just had a little too much to drink."
"Yeah," said another voice. "We'll get them home safe."
One man hoisted Jim onto his back and dropped some cash onto the table.
"Here's the bill."
The server hesitated. "Wait—"
"Don't worry about it."
It was all strange, sure—but the diner was busy, and he wasn't paid enough to question anything too deeply.
The men vanished into the night, Jason and Jim with them.
—
Back in the apartment, Liam's vision blurred. Then Caitlyn's. Then Alex's. One by one, they slumped to the floor.
Felicia caught it all—every second on video. Stunned, she pressed her eye to the camera for a closer look.
"What the—?"
A gloved hand emerged from the shadows, clamping over her mouth and yanking her backward deeper into the bushes. Her scream was muffled instantly.
—
"Don't die," Samantha whispered.
"You too."
The two of them sat back-to-back on the floor in their ridiculous winter gear, leaning into each other for consolation.
Sleep hit them fast and hard.
They didn't resist.
They couldn't.