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Before anyone could say anything else, the door of the dining room clicked open. All five of us spun to look at it, synchronized, like one creature with five heads.
"What does that mean?" Payton whispered.
As an answer, our devices buzzed painlessly, and a message appeared:
Go to bed.
"We’re dead. He’s gonna kill us in our sleep, isn’t he?" Elise said, staring at her watch.
Drake heaved a heavy and exhausted sigh. "If he wants us dead, he can do it any time he wants. I, for one, am going to go to sleep. At least if I die, it will be with a little less exhaustion."
He didn’t wait for any of us to retort before striding toward the door. The rest of us shared a look and headed out to follow him. I doubted many of us would actually sleep. Though if the things I saw in the bunker were real, then he’d just gas us and knock everyone out anyway. Regardless of what we did, we’d be unconscious in our rooms soon. The thought sent a wave of uncertainty and terror through me. The thought of lying down in that bed, closing my eyes, and never waking up was more than I could take.
At my door, Drake stopped and put a hand on my lower back. "It’ll all work out. Stay calm."
"How do you know that?" I said, my voice trembling.
He swallowed and gave a little shake of the head. "Not sure. I’ll see you in the morning."
I waited until he vanished into his room before I headed into my own. The door latched behind me. My hands were shaking as I peed and then took my clothes off. When I slid under the covers, my imagination took over, and I pictured it as me slipping inside my own coffin rather than climbing into bed.
Minutes after lying down, the lights shut off, plunging me into darkness. I told myself that it would all be fine, but my heart wouldn’t stop hammering in my chest. The muscles in my jaw ached from clenching my teeth together. Any second, I would die. Poison gas, a knife across the throat. Fuck, maybe Sam would rape me to death in my own bed. God only knew what kind of sick shit he might pull.
When my eyes snapped open, I couldn’t even remember passing out. I could tell from how stiff yet rested my body was that I'd been out for hours. Probably a whole night. At least I hadn’t died. The lights of the room clicked on, but there was no chime or alarm, the door didn’t unlock either.
Slowly, I sat up and glanced around my room. Nothing seemed out of place until I glanced at the nightstand. My blood ran cold. Three pre-packaged granola bars, a single bunch of three bananas, and a small single-use peanut butter pouch. My eyes widened as I looked at it. He’d been in here. He’d put that food on my night stand and stood over me. My skin crawled at the thought of it. He must have gassed us. There was no way, in my heightened state of anxiety, he could have gotten in or out without me waking up.
The images flipped through my mind like a horror movie. Sam standing above me in the dark. Had he touched me? Had he done anything more than leave the food? I tried to tell myself that he hadn’t but that was hard. Almost impossible.
We were locked in. That had to be why he’d put the food here. How many days? My stomach rumbled, but I ignored the sensation of hunger. I wouldn’t turn to the snacks until the hunger became more unbearable. The idea of touching something he’d left for me while I slept made me want to vomit.
Still wanting to keep some sort of habit, I climbed from bed and dressed myself, brushed my teeth, then sat on my bed and stared at the door and the clock. Hours ticked by with no word. Eventually at around noon my ravenous hunger took hold. I’d hunted and butchered one man, fucked Drake’s brains out, ransacked a bunker, then surprised and decapitated another man. I’d worked up a hell of an appetite. I ate all three bananas and the peanut butter. I was still hungry but forced myself to leave the granola bars. What if he left us here for days? I’d need to keep something on hand not to starve. Water from the bathroom sink sufficed for liquid.
Eventually, I managed a nap, not from being tired, more from sheer boredom. The chime going off was what woke me at nearly seven at night.
Bong. "Good evening, Dahlia. Time to wake up."
The room spun as I jerked myself from bed. I had to blink a few times to clear my head. "I’m up," I muttered.
"Yes. I’m very disappointed to see you hadn’t touched some of your food. The granola bars?"
Frowning, I looked at the nightstand. With a shaking hand, I reached out and lifted one of the bars up. Tucked beneath the three bars, hidden unless they were moved, was the immunity card. I stared at it dumbly. I’d murdered his friend or partner or whatever, and now he was giving me a reward? What the fuck was happening?
"I see the confusion on your face, Ms. Belrose. I find it funny you thought you could kill me so easily. My associate seems to have lost his head. You left me quite a mess to clean up. Still, I am a kind and generous host."
There was silence for several seconds, and I wondered if that was all he would say then he cut back in, but this time I could tell he addressed everyone instead of only me.
Bong. "Dolls, tonight we celebrate. Everyone please go to the dining room hallway."
The door clicked open and swung inward. I tucked the immunity card into my sweatpants pocket and hurried for the door, wanting to get out of the room before the chance was taken away. In the hall, the others looked equally as dubious about what was happening. What the hell was Sam going to celebrate? Our deaths?
Drake came up behind me and put a reassuring hand on my lower back and walked with me. I heard a faint buzz, and he grunted in pain, taking his hand away. It was obvious that, at least for now, Sam had a close eye on us all.
The door to the dining room was shut and locked when we got there.
Payton pushed on the door, but it held firm. "What the hell?"
Behind us, a loud click pulled our attention away. Further down the hall, past the door for the kitchen, another hidden door had swung open. A door none of us had ever noticed before. Beyond, the bright green of the fake plants and grass shone emerald like outside.
