27
21. 7. 22, Thursday, 20:55
Surely you will have met that one adult in your life who enjoys lecturing you on how the world is not split into black and white, rather it is grey, at every opportunity, whether you want it or not. Everyone, everywhere and everything, they will say, is not entirely good nor bad. Just grey.
Was there such a place proven to be so at Ashwood Mansion?
Ah yes, of course there is (Ashwood Mansion does have everything you might ever want, like a karaoke room, a cinema…even a Wine room, though seeing as all the contestants were minors that wasn’t used (to the adults’ knowledge)). The maze.
It’s definitely good: the Phobia Club did find the trapdoor, the next stage of the Trail. Plus when games were held there it was quite fun for those who weren’t afraid of getting lost.
But put it that way then it’s also definitely bad: Alex Chang was shot there by Blowdart Man not too long ago when he, Adonis and Julian had gone in there on a dare. He still wasn’t out yet, like the reason why he was shot wasn’t out yet to the Phobia Club.
Tonight would be Judgement Day. Was the maze an omen of good or bad luck?
Which brings this up. As you, reader, know but the Phobia Club don’t, the unknown employer had ordered his spies to embed themselves in the sevens’ separate teams during the match, and to your knowledge there is at least six spies.
And unfortunately the Phobia Club had no clue about the fact that there might as well be traitors in their teams, both Trail-wise and match-wise.
They also don’t know that they’ve been drugged so many times by the memory-erasing they’ve lost quite a chunk of recollection on what they had been doing in the past eleven days. Of course later on they did find out, but that would happen in a particularly terrible situation and right now they do not.
Their brains had been so fogged up and as anyone will tell you the druggier you are the more susceptible you will be to suggestions no matter how absurd. Which was what Carlo had done when he was finished with them.
So now they think that they had finally stopped the Trail - too many people had gotten hurt. Besides, what good had it done them at all? For all they knew the serum could just be a myth.
Tonight the seven would finally find out through chains of bizarre events.
The spies will be in action tonight. The employer isn’t done with them yet. The Trail isn’t finished ruining up seven perfectly good lives. Why?
Tonight was Ricky Selfor’s birthday paintball match held at the maze.
***
Anyone standing at the entrance of the maze would’ve needed a very, very good pair of earphones and extremely strident music to block out the babble as the groups assembled themselves and prepped up their paintball guns.
“Julian, Adonis! You’re in my group, and we better beat my brother!” Leith called out.
“GUYS, HURRY UP! I WANNA START!” Sherry squealed to Emma and Heather.
“Jordan, call Freddie over,” Anne-Marie said.
“Load your guns, I want to rub our victory in Leith’s face,” Conrad ordered Ricky and Denver.
“Good luck, comrades!” Kyler smiled his customary frozen smile at Glen and Leo.
“Pray we don’t get lost, because this maze is crazy big,” Lana urged Tanya and Shauna.
However none were as loud as the air horn when it blew to signal the start of the –
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”
Everyone rushed into the maze.
If every single action of all the groups as they shot flying blobs at each other, every single dialogue was captured and every person’s point of view recorded we would be using hundreds of pages and simply be wasting your valuable time. But even if the narration were to only follow the seven, that wouldn’t work either as all were on different teams. It would be messy and it would be tedious.
Therefore the camera and point of interest shall only be zoomed in on the ones nearest to the trapdoor…the Phobia Club member closest to the next phase of the Trail, in other words. However, as stated above, the seven had their memories erased multiple times to the point they had nearly forgotten about the trapdoor’s existence.
And so, like the mysterious employer’s instructions, they had to be reminded…
Sherry, Emma and Heather had formed an alliance (temporary, they were planning to betray them later) with Leith, Adonis and Julian. The six of them were hiding out behind a stack of hay nearby the maze’s exit – right above the trapdoor, unbeknownst to them – lying in boring wait for some foolish team to stumble here to shoot.
“No one’s using this trail,” Heather complained.
“I know, right?” Sherry agreed. “If only we could, like, set up trapdoors or something that drop them to us.”
“Shhh, keep your eyes peeled and your mouth shut,” Leith hissed, prepping his gun. “If you see ‘um, shoot ‘em, not let them hear your noises!”
“If my memory serves me right, you’re the one blowing raspberries to pass the time half an hour ago,” Heather argued with her cousin.
“Shut up, Heather, before I give you a blow to the head,” Leith said good-naturedly. “You won’t even have time to dart away, my man.”
The Vincents froze a little. Not enough to be noticeable. Adonis paused his cleaning of paint off his gelled hair. Just for a moment.
Then everything went back to normal when Conrad, Ricky and Denver showed up firing blue spatters into the air and showering the hiding teams in a coating of navy, turning them into part-Navi. Honour had to be defended and so the other two teams turned the trio into bumblebees with black-and-yellow globs.
“Knock ‘em out so bad they won’t remember anything, boys!” Conrad barked as he and his twin faced off each other like some modern Wild West showdown.
Sure, the Vincents, Adonis and Denver fired with as much vigour as the rest. Sure, they managed to have fun shooting each other in very mortifying spots. But while everyone was thinking of their targets and aiming for spots, their subconsciouses were whispering a few random strings of words over and over in their sleepy brains.
“…Trail.”
“...we could…trapdoors…”
“…See ‘um… (Serum?)”
“If my memory…”
“Blow to the…dart away…my man…”
“Knock ‘em out…”
“Stop your sloppy shooting and fire like this is World War 3!!!” Leith screamed at them.
“No, this is your funeral!!!” Conrad bellowed back.
And that was when their brains finally woke up from the memory-drug haze.
Trigger finger. Trigger Mortis. Trigger foods. Trigger WORDS.
“…fire…”
“Trapdoor!” Emma yelped suddenly and let off a paintball which blasted on a screaming Sherry. “Sorry!”
“Alex found it…Blowdart Man shot him, and he’s in clinic because of it or was it because he hit his head damn I’m talking like I’m the one with the concussion now.” The words flowed out of Adonis like a broken tap – when one finds themselves too full of thoughts they tend to bubble out.
“What the heck did we find inside again?” Julian wondered. “Is it just me but I’m not entirely sure what happened for the past week, or what we ate for breakfast.”
“Blowdart Man must’ve wiped our memories or something, maybe gave us drugs,” Denver replied, shooting Leith.
“Drugs? Did you just say drugs?” Julian asked. Then he paused. “Wait, you guys aren’t on my team. Fire in the hole!”
“I’M ON YOUR TEAM YOU BLOODY IDIOT STOP FIRING AT ME! FIRE AT YOUR SISTER!” Adonis roared before releasing a barrage of paint onto Julian.
“From now on we’re not calling ourselves full siblings, I’m telling people you’re my stepbrother, you –!” Emma yelled at Julian. Denver sent a volley of blue at Julian. At such close quarters, they most definitely found their mark.
“Whoops…hey, let’s go find the others now,” Julian said, changing the subject. “If that’s what you’d like, STEPSISTER.”
Emma groaned and took a few steps backwards to take a better pot shot at her newly titled stepbrother.
However she banged into Heather, who in turn stumbled back into Conrad, who in turn knocked his arm into Ricky, who in turn tripped up a squeaking Sherry, who in turn accidentally pushed Adonis to the ground.
“Bloody –” Adonis swore as his foot caught on something. A pyramid of upturned moss flew into the air as he fell down to earth. Ow, he thought. It felt like something was cuffing his foot to the ground.
“I think you just found the trapdoor’s ring, dawg,” Emma said, mouth agape. “We…we better tell the other three.” Thankfully the shootout was still going on and no one else had noticed it.
“We could sneak away now and get the others to leave this part of the maze,” Denver suggested, his eyes gleaming. “I want to see what’s down there!”
“No, the Truce-Intermission’s starting soon,” Adonis disagreed, spitting grass from his mouth. “We’ll wait until then.”
They certainly didn’t have to wait long because –
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”
–the air horn was once again here to interrupt a perfectly good narration.
The Truce-Intermission was being held in the maze’s middle, where refreshments and dessert were being served on silver platters, where the four found Lana, Leo and Freddie to remind them about the Trail and the trapdoor.
“So…you say that Blowdart Man made us forget about the Trail after we found something in whatever the trapdoor leads to,” Freddie said slowly, chugging down ginger beer, red paint on her face gleaming like blood.
“That sounds crazy,” Lana said, chewing a croissant. “Didn’t we just agree to quit the Trail because Alex got hurt?”
“Yeah,” Leo agreed.
“I know, I’m confused about that too,” Emma agreed, picking the seeds off a strawberry (a deed Lana and Freddie always insisted that made her a criminal in the Food World). “But doesn’t it strike you weird that since Alex got shot we completely forgot about the trapdoor and the Trail?”
“You’re not even convincing me,” Julian said. “I mean, yeah, for some reason I just had this waking-up sensation and the feeling that I’ve finally realized there are a lot of gaps in my memory, but why the heck would Blowdart Man want to shoot us if we are helping him find the Trail?”
“He has been shooting people if he thinks they’re going to give too much information,” Denver pointed out. “Like we discussed before, the trapdoor might’ve something that would reveal his identity or something he doesn’t want.”
“Or maybe the trapdoor had nothing to do with the Trail but everything to do with Blowdart Man,” Adonis hypothesized. “And that’s why he wanted us to stay clear from it.”
“Then I say we investigate it,” Freddie said gleefully. “Let’s go find out who Blowdart Man is and we’ll use it against him.”
“If he’s watching us how do you say we go down?” Denver argued.
“Easy! He can’t be everywhere at once! We should split up and then he’ll have to pick one of us to follow! The old Bait trick,” Freddie said, clearly delighted with the prospect of blackmailing Blowdart Man.
“Then how will we make him pick the correct person to follow?” Lana spluttered.
“Jeez, you guys really enjoy poking holes in my plans. Can’t you just let me have my moment?” Freddie complained. “We’ll make that person the most suspicious one, like they have their own secret agenda, or they’re carrying important stuff.”
“That sounds possible, but we’re relying a lot on how Blowdart Man’s going to behave,” Adonis reminded. “And that’s basically algebra’s X, the unknown factor.”
“Hey, even X has to follow certain rules. I’m sure it’ll work – now, who’s going to play patsy? And what’s the bait?”
Julian glanced around. “None of us look very suspicious, to be honest. Also, where are we going to get the bait?”
Lana sighed and dug out her sketchbook. “Does this look like Yvonne’s diary from afar?”
“It’s night time,” Leo shrugged. “It might.”
“Then Leo take it,” Adonis said. “He looks like the type who wouldn’t say a word even if he was interrogated. You barely say anything. Also, you’re sort of invisible if you wear your jacket, so you look sneaky.”
“So we’re sending Leo because he looks like a ninja and thus look the most suspicious?” Julian said incredulously. “Can I go? I don’t like the trapdoor, because it kind of reminds me of horror movie hallways, and that’s not good.”
“You’re all bark and no bite,” Freddie snorted. “If we send you you’ll just try to convince Blowdart Man you’re really fishy and end up just entertaining the dude.”
“I am not.”
“We should do it now, then,” Emma advised. “Shock him. Blowdart Man won’t be expecting it. I don’t even like Ricky.”
“I don’t like him too, but it’s rude to not attend people’s cake-cutting ceremony,” Lana said sternly.
“Then we’ll pretend to lose the rounds and sneak away to the trapdoor,” Denver said happily. “I’m more than happy to do it. Leith and Conrad’s shooting is too intense, also I’m kind of tired of eating paint.”
“No.” Emma glowered at him. “Absolutely not.”
“I want to win,” Adonis barked.
“Shut up, Stein,” Freddie drawled.
“It wouldn’t be fair to have our teammates lose too,” Lana said fairly.
“Then when? Huh?”
“Ricky’s opening gift time, then,” Leo volunteered. “We don’t have to stick around for then, and no one’s going to care whether we win or lose. We can sneak away.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Denver said. “Good job, Leo.”
“That’s fair,” Lana said approvingly. Adonis slapped him on the back.
“It’ll be late, so we better get back before they do a headcount when we get back to the Mansion,” Freddie reminded, wiping away droplets of ginger beer from her mouth.
“We’ll set an alarm on our phones or watches then,” Emma said –
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”
***
If you ever find yourself in a rough, steep stone stairs spiralling down from a secret trapdoor and have no idea where or what to expect, have no fear. You only need a torch, a chalk, water and a long ball of string.
However the Phobia Club had none of these so they ahd to make do with the glow-in-the-dark balloons they had stolen, some bottles of purloined root beer and a few robbed paintballs to smear the walls with.
The stairs were dusty and the middle sloped downwards slightly, like someone very heavy had trod them flatter. It was quite difficult not to simply stumble and pitch headfirst into the gloom, especially as there weren’t any handholds on the wall, but the Phobia Club managed without too much pushing and shoving. Finally, the stairs ended and the six (Leo was away as bait) came to their destination…
…Ashwood Mansion’s basement?
Denver’s jaw hung open. He was the only one who recognized the place – his Room was down here, after all – but it was clear the others also did, mainly because of the large Ashwood crest carved into every wall and the crates littered everywhere. Crates filled with straw, crates filled with wine bottles, crates filled with random discarded items like several broken photoframes and a horrendous portrait of a cat in a tuxedo.
“Another entrance to the basement?” Julian asked. “How many do they need? Oh look, alcohol! Anyone want a martini?”
“Mojito, rather,” Adonis replied, thinking about the time he did drink one and ddn’t sleep for three whole days.
“I prefer moonshine,” Freddie said seriously. “Other than liquor, what are we supposed to look for here?”
“Some plaque, a hint,” Lana said. “Definitely nothing that can be moved, so we can rule out the crates.”
“The Ashwood crests?” Emma offered. “It could be like last time in the Caco-something Room.”
“Worth trying, unless there’s another basement underneath this one so we have to check the floors too,” Freddie said matter-of-factly. “So basically we have to bang on the walls and stamp out feet all the while producing absolutely no loud noises.”
“What joy,” Julian said. “That’s like telling me to drink soup but only use a knife.”
But they got to work anyway.
Minutes and moments passed, but it even after so long there were no hints as to where the Trail continued. They crawled on all fours, feeling for any rings like the trapdoor. They patted the walls, pressing corners in the vain hope of opening any potential false panels. Even then nothing showed up. Exasperated and irritated at their failure, the six plopped themselves on upturned crates and all sighed in unison.
“Absolutely nothing,” Lana said wistfully. “Maybe there’s just something we haven’t thought of.”
“For some reason I feel really tired mentally,” Emma said tiredly.
“Curse this wretched place, there ain’t no bloody Trail here,” Adonis pounded his fist on the crate’s wooden bar, giving himself a splinter.
“I think Blowdart Man just wanted to keep us from finding his secret stash of champagne,” Freddie said, holding up a bottle. “Cabernet Sauvignon ain’t cheap, I bet.”
“So basically there was no Blowdart Man, just some silly alcoholic idiot chasing us in his drunken dreams,” Julian speculated. “Are you sure we can’t open a bottle?”
“I’ll smack your head with it,” Lana warned. “No alcohol while you’re underage.”
“It’s more likely the bottle will break than my head.”
“Actually I watched a cop show where they had an episode where one guy was beaten to death with a wine bottle, so yeah,” Freddie said without batting an eye.
“Here’s to us, J,” Denver said, ignoring the girls and lifting a bottle in a mock-toast.
“Add ignorance I tour or whatever the Latin motto is,” Julian agreed, raising another bottle.
“Ad ignotum itur,” Freddie said. “It means ‘Into the unknown’ like that Frozen song. I translated it when I was doing research on the Ashwood family.”
“No, the motto is ‘Ultra notum audemus’. Beyond the something we go, I think,” Lana disagreed. “It says so right there on the wall.”
“It literally reads as ‘Non titemus cane’, dawg,” Emma corrected.
The three boys’ head swivelled back and forth as the girls argued about what the motto was. They glanced at the walls – it seemed like all the girls were correct about the motto to a certain extent.
“Guys, there’s literally three different mottos under every Ashwood crest,” Denver interrupted them.
“Coincidence?” Julian pondered.
“I think not!” Adonis snapped his fingers. “What do they mean?”
Simultaneously three hands were raised and Google Lens were used to translate the phrases.
“Into the unknown we go,” Freddie read out.
“Beyond the known we venture.” Lana’s eyebrows shot up.
“We fear no dogs, dawg,” Emma said dryly. “What sort of motto is that?”
“Okay, the first two sound alright, but for the last one you might as well say ‘We like serums’,” Julian said.
“I mean, there’s probably a connection, but the third one really threw me off,” Denver admitted.
“’Into the unknown we go’ and ‘beyond the known we venture’ have similar meanings,” Adonis suggested. “If you cut out ‘beyond the known’ and ‘unknown’ because they’re the same thing basically, you get left with ‘Into the’, ‘venture’ and ‘we go’.”
“’Venture’ and ‘we go’ are almost synonyms too,” Freddie piped up. “So it’s just ‘into the’ left then.”
“What about the dog motto?” Emma demanded. “That doesn’t have anything related!”
Freddie’s head titled upwards – she had an idea. “Kyler Naughton.”
“Mister History?” Denver snorted. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Cyanophobia,” Adonis exclaimed. “’We fear no dogs’. ‘Into the’. It’s telling us to go to the Cyanophobia Room!”
“And lucky for us, Gwenda snuck us the key card!” Lana cried triumphantly, brandishing the white plastic thing.
“Serum, here we come!” Julian raised his fist, which bumped into the low, dusty ceiling.
Click.
And quite suddenly, a section of the wall disappeared and opened up a doorway to the dark.