Choose One

Just a little horror story to welcome the spooky season

The bonds of friendship form a tether stronger than any material; threaded together with memories, interwoven with laughter, entwined with sadness – where your friends are, you are home.  These were the thoughts on the mind of Nate Hamilton as he quietly walked into the apartment he shared with his three best friends. He surveyed the living room – not much had changed. The few beer bottles left around were sitting on tables instead of scattered about the floor. If porn mags still existed, they were hidden amongst a neat pile of bland, unappealing catalogs. Remotes were easily found on the table. It looked as though someone had recently vacuumed. Nate wondered if his friends had grown up or invested in a cleaning service. He meandered through the apartment, passed closed bedroom doors to the kitchen in the back.  He quietly watched his friends from the hallway.

            They sat is silence, half-eaten lunches rapidly cooling on the retro, gray, Formica table. All three were engrossed in their phones, one earbud in so they could hear the others if they felt like talking. Jeff “Rey” Reynalds was lounging on the red pleather booth they had acquired from some long-forgotten diner, his long arms and legs spread out and his shaggy black hair obscured half his face. His fingers tapped out a beat on the back of the chair as they always did. Rey was a drummer, his personal soundtrack playing through his head in an endless loop. Bobby Alvarez sat at the table, dressed the nicest of the three in business casual, thick brown hair customarily parted to the side and styled in the latest fashion made him look more like a model than an up-and-coming broker. Just over 21, he was the youngest of the four. Nate would bet any amount of money that Bobby was watching the stock market on his phone. And finally, lounging in the papasan chair pushed off to the corner, was Sebastian “Bash” O’Roarke, the one with the heart of gold. Bash looked like a leprechaun with red hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. His thumbs typed rapidly across the screen, most likely texting his girl – the same one he had been with since they were all in high school together.  Bash was studying to be a teacher. Just who decided any of them were safe to influence young minds?

Nate decided to break the silence and standing at attention yelled, “Airman First Class Nate Hamilton reporting for booty!” Phones were discarded hastily, as the room erupted in a cacophony of noise and movement. Chairs were pushed aside and upended in a mad dash to bro hug their lifelong friend. It had been a year since Nate was home and each of the other three felt his absence.

Stepping back, Rey brushed his hand over the medals on Nate’s jacket and tugged on the sleeve, “Nice chevrons, man – when do we see you rank up again?”

“First, impressed you knew the right word, and second, I can’t be a sergeant for four years. What about you? How’s the band doing?”

“S’ok,” Rey mumbled, shaking his hair in front of his eyes.

“Dude, don’t sell yourself short,” Bash replied. “Red Death is playing at all the local Halloween festivals. We’re hoping to have time to catch a few while you’re here.”

“Sounds good. What about you Bash? How’s your class going? How’s Bess?”

“It’s great man, the kids are awesome, funny as hell. I’ve got stories. Bess is good, working on saving the earth one environmental project at a time.”

“Look at you two out here spreading happiness and shit. That’s awesome man. Proud of you. And what about you Wolf of Wall Street?”  Nate asked turning to Bobby. Bobby just raised an eyebrow, the others shook their heads no. They had been trying to stick a nickname to Bobby for years, but nothing ever seemed to fit. “Uncle Pennybags? Richie Rich?”

Bobby sighed, “Give it up man, it’s never gonna work. Face it, I am just too cool for a nickname. I’m good, just studying for my Series 7 and then it’s all money, hookers, fast cars, and blow from there on out. Kidding… mostly.”

“So, where are we going tonight boys? We going to that local bar with the great bands and hot women y’all keep sending me snapchats of?” Nate asked.

“That’s for tomorrow.” Rey replied, “tonight I found something just for us, a little Halloween adventure.”

Halloween had always been their favorite holiday. In grade school, October nights were spent piled in one another’s basements, sleeping bags overlapping, as they tried to scare each other with the latest horror movie they ordered from Netflix.

“Alright, let me get out of these dress blues and we can hit the road.”

An hour later, the four friends piled into Rey’s lovingly restored 1970 powder blue Ford Mustang. This car, nicknamed Belle, had taken up the entire summer of their sixteenth year. Nate smiled as her remembered what seemed like hundreds of road trips to junk yards searching for just the right part. They worked part time jobs and pooled money when they had to. Belle was their ticket to freedom and adventure.

Rey put the address of their destination into his phone. Belle purred to life as if the car was happy to have her four boys together again.

            “Yo Rey, you gonna end this mystery and tell us where we’re going?” Bobby asked, his face eerily illuminated from the glow of his phone he had put down for just a minute.

            “Yeah, I guess I can tell you. I won a contest for a private ‘Escape the House Adventure.’ We get locked in for two hours and the best part, NO PHONES.” Rey replied, making eye contact with Bobby in the rearview mirror.  “You gonna be alright pal?” Bobby rolled his eyes.

            They drove out of town and onto backroads leading them further and further away from houses and lights that brought familiarity and comfort. They sang along to the songs that had become the soundtrack of their lives, muffled sounds of metal chords and screeching lyrics drifting out through the windows that blocked the chilly autumn air. Conversation flowed. At times they drove in companionable silence, content just to be together.

            The GPS led them past farmlands and into the woods. Rey flinched at the bumps in the unpaved roads. He patted the steering wheel absently, as if to apologize for the unusual conditions. He was driving cautiously, but not slowly. Belle didn’t like to meander.  Without warning Rey slammed on the breaks, bringing Belle to a screeching halt, everyone jostled forward.

            “What the hell man?” Bobby asked as his phone fell under Nate’s seat.

            “Yeah, like I wanted to do that!” Rey replied, turning his head to glare into the back seat.

            “Maybe you should slow down and watch where you’re going! You’re so careless!” Bobby yelled back.

            “Guys, quit it! Is everyone okay?” Bash asked, assuming his best teacher voice.

            “Yes, Mr. O’Roarke,” the other three said simultaneously in that singsong voice perpetually used by children to greet authority. Laughter filled the car, breaking the tension.

            “It’s just a detour.” Nate said, getting out of the car. He used his phone to shine a light on the barely visible barricade and what little of he could of the road behind it. He returned to the car, “They could have illuminated that a bit. It looks like the road is washed out. The sign says to follow the detour to the house. Let’s just do what it says and slow down. Don’t want to hurt Belle.” Nate clapped a hand on Rey’s shoulder.

            Rey drove slowly. The others looked out for the remaining signs. Laughter and excitement returned; all tension quickly forgotten. The detour took them down some dark roads and led to a stately but abandoned house seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The men got out and took in their surroundings.

            “Is this the place?” Bash asked, “It looks … haunted.”

            Nate, sensing Bash needed a little reassurance, gently elbowed him. “Come on now. ‘We ain’t afraid of no ghosts.’”  

            Rey led the small brigade to the house and trying the handle, found the door unlocked. He looked back at his best friends, “You ready bros? Let’s do this!”  

            Once inside, the door mechanically and audibly locked behind them. Rey, Nate, and Bobby laughed and high-fived one another, adrenaline beginning to set in. Bash tried to discern the mechanism used to lock the door. Perspiration beaded on his forehead.   

            “I found an envelope addressed to all of us,” Bobby said.

            “Open it man, let’s get this party started!” Rey responded.

            “Welcome Rey, Bobby, Bash, and Nate. We were informed this evening was in celebration of your return Airman Nate Hamilton, we thank you for your service.” Bobby stopped reading and looked questioningly at Rey.

            “In the form, they asked for the names of the people attending and if we were celebrating anything, I guess to make the night more personable or something.” Rey shrugged.

            “Did you give them our blood types and social security numbers too?” Bash asked, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.

            Nate put a reassuring hand on Bash’s shoulder. “Dude, it’s okay. It’s just a game.”

            Bobby continued reading.

            “We hope you all enjoy our little game. There is no escape until the end. You will find your first puzzle in the kitchen. You have two hours to survive. We hope you make it. Good luck.”

            “Two hours to survive?” Bash asked.

            Once they entered the kitchen, the sound of a metronome flooded the house, slow and methodical. On the table was a blank sheet of paper. The refrigerator door was held fast with a chain and secured with a combination lock. The room was warm, comfortable.

            As everyone hesitated, Nate began to open cabinets. In one he found lemon juice, in a drawer, a paint brush. He quickly applied the lemon juice to the paper and holding it to the light was rewarded with the combination to the lock. Bash, hands shaking ever so slightly, spun the lock and Bobby uncoiled the chain. Inside the refrigerator were three opaque bottles, which they took out and sat on the table.  In the dishwasher, Rey found seven shot glasses.

            “Should we each do a shot?” Rey asked, excitedly.

            “Will it get us out of here faster?” Bobby deadpanned.

            The metronome stopped. A deep, garbled voice reverberated through the house. “Congratulations on solving your first challenge gentleman.”

            Everyone looked around the room. They could see no one nor tell where the voice was coming from.

            “Don’t worry, I can see you, but you will never see me.” The disembodied voice was accompanied by a high-pitched giggle. “Here’s a little riddle to help you. If you get it wrong, one of you will experience an unpleasant end to our little game. Relying on your guts brings immediate vindication. Oh, and one more thing, you must take the last shot. Hope it’s the right one. Good luck!”  The voice stopped, and the metronome began again.

            “Did he … did she… did they threaten us?” Bash asked.

            “Is this fucking for real?” Nate replied.

            “It’s just a game,” Rey said repeating his mantra.

            “I hope so because we all left our phones in the car, genius. We can’t call for help” Bobby said derisively.

            Nate took charge, “Okay let’s think – there was a clue in what it said, something about relying on our guts.”

            “Relying on your guts, brings immediate vindication,” Bash repeated, His eyes lit up.  “It’s a rainbow! Move!” Like a mad scientist, he mixed the larger bottles into the shot glasses – ending with violet and immediately taking the glass to his lips.

            “Jesus Christ! Wait! Are you sure about this?” Nate asked, stopping Bash before he could drink.

            Bash looked at him, confidently. “I’m a teacher.”  He took the shot and the next door opened.

            As the four men made their way through the house, facing each challenge, the house grew warmer. The metronome grew louder, its pace quickened. In one room, the notes of a piano played in the right order stopped the release of what they were told was poisonous gas. In another, a game of numbers had darts flying precariously close to their heads, but never encountering them.  The four men were disoriented. Excessive heat led to dehydration. It was difficult to discern reality from fantasy. They were relying on each other’s strengths and growing tired of each other’s weaknesses. Intense fear brought them together, as much as bickering was tearing them apart.

            Finally, they made it to the end – the garage. There were two doors, one leading to the outside. The locks clicked, the lights flickered in a strobe effect and then they were plunged into darkness. For a few moments, silence – no one moved. No one made a sound. And then the room lit up, like the surface of the sun – blinding them. Their eyes were dilated, struggling to adjust. Sweat dripped from every pore. The metronome began slowly, and then played faster and faster – until it felt like the remaining seconds of their lives were audible.

            The familiar garbled voice spoke. “You have reached the final room, and I feel compelled to let you know, one of you will not survive. One will see their dreams come true. One will continue to live their lives. And one … one will decide the fate of the others. Airman Nate Hamilton – their lives are in your hands.”

            Nate looked at his three friends and knew immediately what he would do.  “No! They’re all walking out of here alive. It’s me – take me. Let them go.”

            His friends started to protest but he silenced them with a look.

            “Ah noble to the end, I see. But no – that’s not going to work I’m afraid. Either you choose or you all die. Their fate is in your hands.”

            The metronome resounded with a rapid pace. Fast and faster the sounds came – the voice shrilly shouting – “CHOOSE – YOU MUST CHOOSE! One to die – one to succeed – one to continue their journey. CHOOSE!”

            Nate snapped – “REY!”

            Rey’s eyes whipped to Nate, filled with shock and fear.

            “Rey, make Rey’s dreams come true.” Rey let out a deep breath, but then paused, because he knew what this meant for his friends.

            Bobby and Bash stood motionless, eyes darting to each other and back to Nate.

            Nate looked at each, his eyes filled with sorrow. He whispered defeatedly, “Bash – Bash will continue his journey.”

            They all looked from Nate to Bobby, horror growing. The metronome slowed to a stop.

            The shrill giggle returned. “You have won the game.”

            The locks clicked. The door opened. Cold air flooded the room.

            The nightmare was over. They had all survived, but the bonds of friendship had been cut, the threads frayed, and the four men would never be the same.