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“Do not get him started on going past the thirteenth floor.”
I winced. “Yeah, he almost broke out the company cheer.”
“They change it every year.” Ace sighed like he’d already given up on life but at least he wasn’t freaking out and screaming despite the fact that a very terrifying looking zombie in a ripped black suit, a red tie, and dangling black glasses stood in front of the door growling at us.
His hair was bright green and part of his face looked like it was missing, he snapped his teeth in our direction making even me jump backward. “I don’t like this one.”
“I don’t like any of them.” Ace pointed out, “But this one has… talents, you know the creepiest part about zombies? Why are they scarier than vampires?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and grabbed Ace’s elbow. “No, but I’m pretty sure you’re about to tell me.”
He pulled me close as we neared the door and the creepy office zombie. I could feel his heat through his shirt. He’d always been warm, not too warm, comforting, solid, strong. I shuddered.
Ace moved away, then gripped my hand and tugged me close. “Zombies have flat teeth, that means they have to gnaw and rip into things until their teeth can cut it, so the torture would be prolonged. Vampires, at least, have fangs, so they just rip into things and get it over with, much like a shark. Imagine what’s more terrifying, a hippo or a shark?”
I smacked him on the back of the head. “You know how I feel about hippos, so why would you compare zombies to them and scare me even more?”
“FLAT TEETH!” Ace just had to say again and open his mouth as if I needed proof that humans turned zombies did, in fact, have flat teeth.
I shoved him, then pulled him back again. “Whatever, let’s just get past the creepy office zombie and solve whatever puzzles are in that room and escape.”
“Done.”
“Rooooooom?” Office zombie cackled. “Enter at your own riskkkkkkkkk.”
I don’t know why, but I gave him a slight head nod while Ace held out his free hand like he was about to shake it, then took it away and cursed at himself. We both sidestepped the zombie when he whispered beneath his breath, “Beware the purple stapler.”
The door creaked open the minute he said it and we were instantly blanketed in utter darkness until the door closed, then all we had were black lights that made me feel like I was about to go clubbing on the wrong side of town without any alcohol to numb the trauma of getting glue on my heels and having to wait in line for two hours just to pee.
Ace whistled. “At least we don’t have any zombies in here?”
“You do realize we’re locked in this room, right?”
“Ah, memories… remember when you locked me in the closet until I—“
“—Seriously? You’re still mad I locked you in the closet for ten minutes?”
“It was twenty!” Ace stabbed a finger in my direction. “And you don’t just lock your boyfriend in a closet because he keeps trying to see what you’re about to put on underneath your dress, it’s not my fault I saw the bags and knew you had lingerie, I just wanted a sneak peek.”
I grinned over at him. “And I just wanted the torture to last a bit longer.”
“Shit.” He hung his head back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling, how was a person’s throat even pretty? “I was tortured the first minute I touched you, still under the same intoxicating spell.”
My head shot up, eyes locking on his. “What was that?”
“Puzzles. I hate them.” He seemed to mean something else, right? Was he talking about the room or me? “I hate what I can’t figure out, interest only lasts so long until frustration kicks in, anger, then finally, a broken heart, I think a little resentment tends to sneak in too, but what would I know? I don’t do puzzles.”
Was I a puzzle to him?
“Yes,” he answered without me even asking it out loud. “You’re the biggest puzzle of all time, one I still can’t solve, though part of me doesn’t want to. If I find solutions or answers to my questions, does that mean you simply leave? Do I? The risk and reward, they don’t balance out, do they? Because when doing a puzzle, you need two participants. You need the puzzle itself and you need the person willing to solve it—but what happens when it can’t be solved? The person gives up and the puzzle still has questions with no answers. Depressing, to say the very least.”
I was too stunned to speak. Why were my eyes filling up with tears? And why did he seem so sad that he still had questions, why did he allude to wanting to have answers even after so long?
“So…” Ace rubbed his hands together while I opened my mouth to ask him what he really meant. “The purple stapler, let’s find that first. He said beware, so I’m assuming there’s a clue somewhere by it, don’t pick it up, just search around it.”
I cleared my throat and walked away from him in search of the stapler. A messy desk was in the corner, a broken coffee maker on top of it with tons of files that said urgent and then, next to that, a broken pencil. Hmmm. I kept walking along the side of the room when I saw a Chinese takeout menu; it had several items circled on it, along with the price and total at the bottom.
“Nineteen eighty-seven.” I said it out loud and something clicked inside the desk as it opened.
