The Golden Hotel

Four days later, Faith woke up at six in the morning, fully n.a.k.e.d with her boyfriend under the bedsheets, which protected them from the cold air. Last night was an incredible experience. She wouldn't ever forget how he had her under his skin, had her spellbound and satisfyingly submissive. His warm hands gliding all over her body, touching the soft and s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e parts as he passionately kissed her lips replayed in her mind.

Her whole face went red as a beet.

Biting her lower lip, she moved her eyes over Theo's sleeping face and tenderly smiled. She kept thinking of their intimate scene together to make her happy and forget all the bad things, but she knew their happiness was only fleeting. If they hadn't found the killer, soon, she would no longer be in his loving embrace. Just the thought of him dying in front of her was already too much to bear. Calling herself a complete failure was only fitting, so her smile turned upside down.

Just then, the annoying screech from the microphone harassed her eardrums. She badly cringed and gritted her teeth. It felt like someone was purposely scratching the tips of a fork against a plate. As a result, Theo woke up with a discomforting groan, covering his ears with a pillow.

"Isn't it too early?"

"Nothing's too early for the killer," Faith said, covering her ears as well.

Both of them had to endure the noise for a second or so before it stopped. Then it was followed by an altered voice in a low and hollowed tone that said:

"Good morning, players. I am here to announce the fifth game's first instruction. Listen carefully. You are not allowed to cook nor eat your breakfast and lunch for today."

Theo and Faith's expression changed as they eyed each other. Did they do something to displease him or her again? The only reason they could think of was Olwen's recent discovery. If it was proven true today, they were a step closer to finding out who was behind this killing scheme.

"All of you heard that right," the killer continued. "This time, there will be an eating contest . . . but with an evil twist. It is very simple, and I am confident that each and every one of you will be able to finish the game. For now, wait for any further instructions. Good day."

The announcement ended.

Theo suddenly sat upright with his eyes opened wide. The thought of getting drugged while they were fast asleep could have happened again. "Why do I get the feeling that our fridge is empty?"

"Empty?" Faith creased her forehead, but she quickly caught on to his idea, gasping. "We gotta go, now!"

The couple quickly slipped out of bed, grabbing and picking up their scattered clothes on the floor to wear. Faith was glad that her left leg was completely healed (thanks to the doctor in the suite), so she rushed outside with her boyfriend without limping nor hopping. As soon as they stepped inside the kitchenette, they found Klein, Hans, and Daren standing in front of their fridge. She squeezed through, only to see their food, drinks, and ingredients had all been cleared out.

Her face went pale. "Nothing's left . . ."

"We can't do anything about it." Daren shook his head before closing the fridge. "We have to wait for the game to eat."

"I don't know if we should feel happy about that." Klein sharply sighed, hating the thought of their next misfortune. "Y'know, we might get poisoned while we're eating. I'm not scarin' you guys or anything. Just being honest."

Now everyone looked apprehensive about eating. Not one, but two of them might be the next target depending on the type of setting provided for them.

"You may be right." Faith swished a finger, and then she looked at everyone in the eye. "Do you guys remember the first time we ate in the restaurant?"

"Didn't you write about our favorite food?" Theo raised his brows with a knowing look. He had a strong feeling that their written clues were slowly coming to light.

"That's exactly why I'm bringing it up." Faith smirked, clearly remembering what she had written in her notepad. "Judy, Yves, and Jared were not included."

"So Jared and Yves are innocent?" Daren's face lit up, hoping to hear that his friends were not killers. "They do save lives."

"One of them may die," Faith quickly said, with a hint of dread in her voice, "but let's not throw away the idea that one of them might be the killer."

"Wait a second," Theo interjected. An idea struck his mind, even though his girlfriend had already crossed one of them out of the suspect list. "How about Yves? I'm not saying that he's the killer, but as a cop, he has shot people on duty—"

"No, I don't think so." Hans deeply frowned. "If we're gonna base on his job as our evidence, that would be too easy. The killer's smart enough not to make that kind of mistake."

"Hey," Theo called him out, sending him a glare. "I get it that Yves is your friend, but do you have to cut me off? I'm still talking!"

"Do you need to yell?" Hans scowled while Theo looked more irritated. "I'm sorry for deliberately cutting you off."

"I'm not hearing any sincerity in your apology."

"What is your problem?"

"You're my problem!"

"Theo, knock it off!" Faith smacked his c.h.e.s.t and looked at him, daring him to say another word in front of Daren and Klein who stood there awkwardly. Eventually, he zipped his mouth. "You were saying?"

Letting go of all the pent-up frustration in his body, Theo said, "I was gonna say that the killer could be framing him and . . ." His gaze traveled back to Hans who, in return, gave him the what-now-bastard look. "No offense, but the killer could be you . . . or the killer's framing you."

"Because I build things," Hans said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That makes a lot of sense," Klein agreed, "but what if the killer wants us to think of what we're thinkin'? Do you guys . . . get what I'm sayin'?"

"Are we . . . what? Discussing for nothing? No, hold on." Daren pinched the bridge of his nose. "I-I'm sorry. I'm lost. Will you explain that?"

"What if there aren't any clues to start with? The killer just made us think that there are clues to solve."

"What will he or she gain from that?"

"I don't know." Klein shrugged. "Satisfaction, maybe? To make us look like a laughing stock?"

"What if the killer decided to leave some clues because we assumed that there are clues?" Hans inquired, seemingly not affected that he could be a suspect.

"Didn't the killer repeatedly shoved the number 4 in our faces?" Daren reminded them. "That's gotta be a clue. Don't forget about the casino where . . . Meg saw the image of a . . . you guys know what I'm talking about."

"I'm havin' a headache," Klein grunted, sandwiching his head in between his hands. "Let's just head over to the other room. I wanna check on my brother and see if he's already sane like me—oh yeah!" Then he looked at Daren, nearly forgetting one important thing to say. "Thanks for the pep talk yesterday." He smiled, giving him a pat on the back.

"I knew you would come back." Daren returned a harder pat, which almost sent Klein stumbling to the fridge.

"I hate to interrupt but . . . shouldn't we be going?" Theo pointed the way out with his thumb. "One of them hasn't gone over here to check up on us and . . . we've been talking here for a couple of minutes. It's bothering me."

"Oh no." Realizing another possible scheme, Faith walked out in a hurry, her heart beating erratically as they went after her. "There's no telling if they're safe at the other room!" She headed straight for the exit and grabbed the doorknob. "I have a bad feeling about this—what the hell?"

The knob wouldn't turn. She tried to rotate it clockwise, then counterclockwise, but the door still wouldn't open.

"What's wrong?" Theo stood behind her, and the rest of the guys filed in with curious faces.

"The door won't open!" She jiggled the knob, left and right. Still, no luck. "I-It really won't!"

"You gotta be kidding me." Theo reached for the doorknob and used a little bit of force in pushing and pulling the door, but nothing worked. "Damn! We're locked in."

"How's that possible?" Daren looked at them, bewildered. "The only way to lock the door is from inside unless . . ."

"Let me see." Hans stepped forward and inspected the round handle, doing the same as others. "You got it right, Ren. The handle might've been jammed."

"What?" Klein's jaw dropped. "How on earth . . . ?"

"Sleeping gas." Faith frowned. "That's the only reasonable answer."

"So by keeping us in, the killer's sure that we won't try to look for food?" Theo scratched his eyebrow, uncertain if that was a valid reason.

"Even if we're not locked in, none of us would've gone out to look for food supplies," Faith said, rubbing her eyes as she suddenly felt sleepy. "I . . . wouldn't want . . . any of you to experience a freak accident—or a staged accident."

Despite Hans' vision going out of focus for a split second, he managed to whistle. "I sure won't roam around aimlessly after what had happened to us. Let alone have a . . . steaming head or an emotional breakdown. We all know how it ends for us. Bad outcome."

Klein turned red from head to toe. "I ain't denying how my emotions almost bested me. What if the killer had planned my death because of that? Then Olwen . . . wouldn't have proven her theory. Efforts flushed down the toilet!" He briefly threw his arms in the air, but he seemed to be less energetic than before.

"Looks like the only option we have is to wait and starve," Daren said, his eyes struggling to stay open. He couldn't ignore the heaviness of his eyelids. "Is it me or . . . why do I feel so . . ."

Nobody had come prepared. Daren abruptly fell down on the floor—unconscious. No matter how much they commanded their mouths to utter a few words, scream and shout his name, they felt too dizzy. The room spun endlessly until they could no longer stay focused on each other. One by one, they sprawled on the floor like lifeless dolls.

Only the faint hissing from multiple air nozzles disturbed the silence.

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The digital clock mounted on the wall read at four o'clock in the afternoon.

With only nine hanging lightbulbs brightening a dark cubed room, the sleeping players could be seen with their feet and torso securely strapped onto an iron chair—a kind of torture device back in the medieval times, but this chair had a built-in table for their next game. It wasn't the only built-in equipment that they had to be wary about, but the helmet on their heads (which looked like a football helmet), but it was made of rusty iron with no thick padding inside. It looked lethal and mechanically complicated with its gears and long screws on each side. Their mouths should be visible through the face mask made of metal bars, but two little doors were blocking the entrance.

Yves started to stir in his sleep, groaning. He moved his head, but he found it awfully heavy for some reason. It wasn't because of a severe headache, no. The pounding and pulsing were not making him wince nor squeeze his head. He opened his eyes to see for himself, but his attention gravitated to his hands when he couldn't control them the way he wanted to. To his surprise, a pair of manacles sn.a.k.e.d around his wrists and the chains connected to them were pulling his hands right back on the table. This made him sit up straight with a jolt, panicking, breathing heavily as he yanked his hands upwards, but the chains persistently pulled them down.

"What kind of shit is this?" Yves angrily shook his fists before glancing around to check on the others.

Jared, Klein, and Theo were in front of him while Hans, himself, and Daren were at the second row. Then Faith, Maxine, and Olwen were right behind him. Eyeing their tables with only a spoon beside their plates, he noticed that they all had one thing in common: their food. The large hamburger patty coated with gravy didn't look enticing to eat as their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The middle portion of the tender meat still had splotches of fresh blood as if the killer had never intended to serve them a well-done patty. How cruel could the killer get? That alone wouldn't satisfy their hunger, but it was better than to starve.

Just then, the unpleasant screech from the speaker box made him shut his eyes closed, cringing, gnashing his teeth together. The duration took longer than expected, and it felt like his head was about to self-destruct. He knew very well that it acted as their substitute alarm clock, which effectively woke up the rest of them. Their uncomfortable groans and painted expressions of discontent completed the whole picture of tortured victims, but that wasn't even the finishing touch.

There was more.

Yves had a sudden chill. At first, he thought that his mind was playing games with him, but he caught a glimpse of a transparent smoke swirling . . . floating under the line of light coming from each lightbulb. Like a dog with a heightened sense of smell, he sniffed the air to pick up any weird scent, but there was none. He feared for the worst. His expression turned grim, frantically darting his eyes around while the others busied themselves.

"Holy shi— What is this?" Daren tried to wiggle himself out of the iron chair. "Are we gonna get tortured? To eat or not to eat? Is this how we will play this game?"

"I don't think that's how it will go," Theo calmly said, despite the loud beating of his heart. He had been analyzing the iron manacles, which seemed to have two keyholes. "Faith, are you there?" He leaned his head to the side, wanting to catch her voice loud and clear. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Yes, I'm here!" She looked at his direction. "Our key is probably inside the meat! There's no other explanation!"

"I thought so! I think we're gonna have to eat our way out of this!"

Faith sank in her iron chair. "We don't have any choice, do we?"

"If that is true, getting the key won't be easy," Hans said, trying to lift up his right hand as far as he could. The chain felt like a giant spring. No matter how hard he pulled, his hand would go back to its original position. "Besides that, I don't like the looks of those screws and gears attached to our helmets."

Daren swallowed the lump in his throat. "What's the worst scenario that you can think of?"

"Screwed brain?" Hans sounded unsure, but it was a reasonable answer.

"That's . . ." Daren sighed, unable to express his horrible thoughts about their torture method. "I just hope we don't all turn into Frankenstein."

"H-Hold up, guys." Klein opened and closed his fists, exercising his fingers to warm them up. "A-Am I the only one f-finding this room gettin' c-colder? It's gettin' way chilly in here!"

"Y-You're not alone," Theo said through chattering teeth. His fingers were becoming difficult to control. "T-There's a sudden drop of temperature."

Jared blew out a cloud of air. Seeing his own breath confirmed his own thoughts about this room, and he disliked it. "Oh, God. We're . . ."

"Inside a damn freezer!" Yves said, dimly alarmed as he eyed the ceiling. "Look up."

In spite of the heavy equipment on their heads and the lights blinding them, they managed to see what was looming above them. Cooling pipes. There were at least hundreds of them planted on the ceiling like a cl.u.s.ter of stalactites in a cave. Blowing in between them was the extremely cool air, and it was getting thicker and thicker. They could feel the iron chair rapidly freezing up, and it was starting to prickle their exposed skin.

"God, have mercy." Maxine's c.h.e.s.t rose and fell, her breathing picking up its pace as she glanced back and forth from Faith to Olwen. "We're gonna freeze to death! W-What are we gonna do? Eat now? There's something blocking our mouths!"

"J-Just calm down, Maxine. Wait a little longer. I-I'm sure the game is about to start!" Olwen said calmly, even though she dreaded the thought of the screws slowly burrowing through her skull. Keeping her thoughts positive would be the right choice to do in their current predicament, but her impending fear was gradually affecting her. She quivered uncontrollably, and the winter-like air made it worse. "S-Shit, it's so cold! It's so cold! I-I can't take this!"

"Take deep breaths!" Faith said hastily. "D-Deep breaths, Olwen, deep breaths! Let's hope for the best that no one's going to die!"

"I-I hope you're right!" Olwen inhaled and exhaled, repeatedly. "I . . . I don't want to—"

Another ear-bursting screech echoed inside the cube room, causing everyone to cringe and grunt uncomfortably. Thankfully, the sound only lasted for a moment, and followed which was the killer's distorted voice:

"Hello, players. I deeply apologize for the . . . freezing environment, but I would like to test your speed for the next game," the killer said. "Right in front of you is your meal. You are required to finish everything, and inside you will find the key to your freedom. Once you obtain the key to your freedom, you first need to unlock your face masks before the left manacle, then the right comes after. If you do not do this in order, the screws will end your life.

"Another point to remember: you cannot regurgitate your food nor let it drop from your spoon as you pass it through the trap doors of your helmets. I will accelerate the screws' rotation. You only have four minutes to finish the game. Good luck!"

Right on cue, the screws and gears attached to their helmets began to rotate in a moderate speed.

The nine players hurriedly picked up their spoons and sliced a small portion of the ground meat, estimating the right size to eat to avoid the trap doors on their helmets from pushing it off. While pulling their right arm off the table was already quite a challenge due to the spring-like downward pull of the chains, the most tricky part that they had to be careful of was controlling their trembling hands and numbing fingers.

So far, so good.

Everyone managed to pass their spoons through the trap doors without a problem. They chewed and swallowed the patty, ignoring how it still tasted raw. Ironically, they could almost smell the fresh blood in their mouths without using their noses. They wanted to puke it out, but that would automatically mean they were asking for their early death sentence. They could only rely on the gravy's rich flavor to overlap the patty's disgusting taste.

They repeated the same sequence, retching occasionally until they could finally see the key to their freedom; the key's shape took the form of the alphabet's twelfth letter.

The first person who got himself free from his wrist manacles was Daren. With all his manly strength, he pulled up his left hand and quickly ran his fingers over the lock on its helmet, and then his right hand followed, inserting the key into the hole. Cl.i.c.k.i.n.g it open and opening the face mask, he easily popped his head out and pushed the helmet aside. He quickly unlocked his manacles in order, unstrapped his torso, lifted the table up (not caring about the plate sliding off the table and shattering into large pieces on the floor), and unstrapped both of his feet. All he could ever think about was to get out of this atrocious freezer room as fast as he could.

Overjoyed to have been completely freed, Daren wrapped his arms around his quivering body and forced his way towards the exit, pushing the door open, and he made it out. He stumbled towards the floor while experiencing a coughing fit, eyes welling in tears. His stomach was very upset that it constantly constricted to push out the unwanted food from his digestive system. He was ready to make a mess on the floor when he happened to look to his right by chance. A stack of silver buckets sat near a silver countertop, and his first instinct was to crawl towards them and grab one.

Going back to the current scene inside, Theo managed to take the last bite of his patty and swallow it whole to avoid tasting the revolting flavor of uncooked meat. He swiftly picked up the key and used every bit of his remaining strength to pull his right arm all the way up to his helmet. Followed which was Yves, cursing every curse included in the dictionary. His shaking fingers were making it difficult for him to aim for the keyhole, thinking that it would take another few seconds to fix his accuracy, but luck was on his side. Just when Theo had shattered the plate and freed himself, Yves had finally opened his face mask and removed the helmet, proceeding to unlock and unstrap the rest of the leather straps slithered around his torso and legs.

Theo was about to leave the freezer room when he turned his head around. "Faith! I'm going out! You okay there?"

"Y-Yes! I'm almost done!" Faith hollered, her icy breath visible in mid-air. "J-Just go out and warm yourself! I'll be okay!"

Leaving her was against his will, but there was nothing that he could do to help her out. The rotating screws on her helmet would instantly kill her once the killer caught them cheating. He or she had been keeping a watchful eye on them, so they never really had the chance to get themselves out of trouble.

"What are you doing standing around there? Go!" Yves came running towards Theo, shoving him out as he pushed the door open. "You don't wanna turn into a frozen Mammoth!"

"But—"

"Chrissake's, your girl's gonna be fine! She's a tough cookie!"

Worriedly glancing back one more time, Theo got pushed out until the two of them were out of the remaining players' sight.

The digital clock on the wall counted down to two minutes. The next player to have gotten himself free was Hans, his plate shattering noisily on the floor. After removing the leather straps choking his legs, he pivoted and checked on Faith's condition. She was struggling to insert the key into the face mask's hole. The chains, screws and freezing temperature intended to weaken everyone's resolve, but not her. She possessed a strong fighting spirit, a trait which had been standing out for him.

Confident that she would come out alive, Hans turned away and came for the exit.

Not for long, Jared and Klein got themselves free and they hurried for the door, shivering, screaming about their freedom and victory and how bone-chilling it was. They were talking gibberish for anyone to clearly understand whatever they were exclaiming as they barreled through the door at the same time.

And now, three players remained.

Faith broke free from her iron chair, coughing as she shambled forward. She felt weak and vulnerable, wanting to puke out the nauseating meat she had eaten, but she stubbornly forced her way to her friends in spite of the constant temperature drop. She wanted to make sure that neither of them would die, so she fixed her eyes on their plates. They both still had their keys, but do they work?

She turned her head around and read the digital clock: one minute to go.

"W-Why are you still here?" Maxine was surprised to see her waiting for them. "G-Get out of here before y-you freeze to death!"

"Come on, girls, I-I'm not leaving!" Faith said. "Unlock your face mask at the same time!"

"W-What? What makes you think t-that we both can get out of here . . . alive?" Olwen said through chattering teeth. Her clothes couldn't warm her up anymore.

"There's not much time!" Faith looked at the clock again, and it was counting down to 44 seconds. "J-Just do it, and you can all make it out! Both of you have to try!"

"Okay, okay!" Maxine loudly breathed out, pulling her arms all the way to the left side of her helmet, just enough for her trembling fingers to touch the keyhole. "Olwen, you ready?"

"R-Ready!" Olwen inserted the key. Her heart was pounding so fast, at any moment, she could start hyperventilating. "At the count of three! One! Two . . ."

"Three!" Maxine turned the key at the same time with Olwen, and they both got free.

Faith smiled in relief as both girls were able to unlock their face masks. She watched how they smoothly unlocked their manacles and unstrapped their torso and legs. Maybe the killer had a change of heart, but wouldn't it mean that their theory was wrong all along? Or maybe they hadn't thought of the right theory? There were a couple of new ideas branching out in Faith's brain, but their top priority right now was to get out of the freezer room more than anything.

So they held each other's frigid hands and together they made a run for it.

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Clue: Italicized thoughts . . .

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