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Gauntlet

Story Time #2

By Adam WallacePublished 3 years ago 9 min read
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It seemed so simple, I thought as I waited.

After I got laid off, I needed a quick infusion of money to keep the roof over my head. Unfortunately, the neighborhood was poor; there weren't any job openings. That seemed weird to me since the news had been reporting a lot of unexplained deaths frequently in the area. Surely, that must've opened some jobs, right?

After about the twentieth failed job search, I went back to my apartment. As I was about to put my key in the lock, I noticed an envelope pushed into the door jam. There was nothing written on the envelope. I breathed a sigh of relief; at least I knew it wasn't an eviction notice. I opened it and pulled out the paper inside. It was a flier that read:

$20,000.00 up for grabs!

Challenge looking for competitors!

Got stamina and guts?

Call now!

There was nothing else on it, just a phone number. It didn't even have a name on it. It looked ridiculous, but I wasn't gonna turn away from that kind of money. I called the number.

I didn't expect anyone to pick up, but I really wasn't expecting an automated response. A deep distorted voice came through with this message:

"Greetings. If you are calling in response to the opportunity to win $20,000.00, please follow these instructions. You are to go to 6353 Hollow Creek Rd. You must be there by 10:00 PM tonight to have your chance to compete. Bring the flier with you. You are not to bring any recording equipment of any kind. That includes cellphones. Further instructions will be provided upon arrival. Goodbye."

The message had hung up. Something didn't seem right. I tried to call the number again, but I just got an automated message from the operator saying that the number was "disconnected or no longer in service". What the hell's going on? I know I didn't just imagine the message. I quickly rushed in the apartment and jotted down the address and time while I still remembered it. I then took a nap; I had a feeling I'd need the energy.

The closest bus stop to 6353 Hollow Creek was about a block away. I got off the bus at about 9:30. I knew enough about this section of town to avoid it whenever possible. The buildings were all run down and falling apart. It looked like New Orleans a month after Hurricane Katrina. I had been walking the deserted sidewalk for about five minutes when I heard footsteps behind me. I stopped and listened. The footsteps continued to approach. When it sounded like they were close enough, I spun around with my fists drawn.

"Why are you following me?" I belted out before I even took a moment to see who it was.

A young man reeled back in defense. "Don't hurt me! I just need to speak!"

He looked like he was more scared of me; so, I lowered my fists. I kept my eyes locked on him, anyhow, just in case he tried anything.

"Who are you?"

The guy straightened up but still looked nervous. "My name is Brent."

"And why are you following me? I doubt you're just taking a walk."

"Neither are you," Brent shot back. "I know where you're going and why."

I scoffed.

"Is twenty grand worth your life?" Brent asked.

The question stopped me cold. I couldn't respond. Brent took my frozen moment to approach, pulling a little black notebook out of his pocket. He offered it, and I hesitated.

"If you're going for that prize, you'll need this," he said simply. After considering for a moment, I took it.

I looked down and thumbed through the book as Brent continued. "I know you're in a hurry. Read the first couple pages before you get there. Keep it a secret. Don't let them find it."

"Don't let who find it?" I asked, looking up.

There was no one there. I looked around, but Brent was nowhere to be seen. I was really starting to get confused. First, there was the phone message directing me here that cut off after one play; then, there's a guy handing me a notebook and disappearing in seconds. I turned around and started to read the book while continuing to the address.

Consider this a fair warning. The contest for that money is lethal. You'll be put in challenges that have killed people in the past. In fact, most of the unexplained deaths and disappearances in town have been competitors in the contest. They deliberately seek out those who are desperate for the money to keep the contest interesting. They asked you to bring the flier with you so there's no evidence of what they're doing.

I wanted to throw up after reading that. However, I still found it hard to believe that this was going on. Why were "they" doing something like this? I was tempted to turn around and walk away, but I continued reading.

I had tried to warn others, but nobody would believe me. My brother didn't, either. After he died in that contest, I started spying. They're recording the deaths of those people as footage for black market snuff films. Rich people are apparently willing to pay a lot to watch poor people die and pay even more to make the law look the other way. I want to stop this exploitation of the poor, but I need your help.

I've spied on the contest and found the secrets to get through it with your skin intact. Those secrets are in this book. DON'T LET THEM FIND IT!!! Good luck. You'll need it.

I thumbed through the rest of the book and saw that it had five small maps with arrows. There were very few specifics aside from a series of four numbers on each page next to one of the arrows. It looked like the information was dashed off in a major hurry.

I looked up from the book to see that I had reached the address, an old motel that looked like it could collapse at any moment. There were no lights on in the windows or outside. It looked like whoever was there was trying very hard not to be noticed. I stashed the book in a hidden pocket on the inside of my jacket and walked up to the door.

After showing the flier to an absolute bruiser at the door, they actually frisked me to make sure I wasn't carrying anything like a cellphone. They were suspicious when they felt a rectangular lump in my jacket, but, fortunately they only found my wallet. They missed the book on the inside. Convinced that I had no contraband, I was shown to one of the filthy rooms nearby.

There was nothing inside except for a chair and an old CRT. The gorilla who frisked me told me to sit down and wait. I knew better than to argue with a guy who looked like he could crush me like a Tootsie-Roll wrapper; so, I did what I was told. I was sitting for about two minutes and starting to get restless when the TV came on. The image was of a guy who looked like an evil Monty Hall (even having the fashion sense of a used car salesman from the 70s) behind a podium in what looked like the motel's pool area.

"Monty" spoke. "Good evening. You're here to try to win the $20,000.00 that I offered. In case you need proof that I'm good for it..." He picked up a small case that was off-camera and opened it, revealing bound stacks of hundred-dollar bills. He closed the case and put it down before speaking again. "In ten minutes, you will step through the backdoor. You have to get through five chambers in thirty minutes. Each one has a code to unlock the next door in the room somewhere. Get through all five, and the money's yours. You have ten minutes to prepare yourself... starting now."

The image of "Monty" was replaced with a clock counting down the start of the contest. Having an epiphany, I reached into my jacket pocket and grabbed the notebook, taking a moment to look around and make sure I wasn't being watched. I reasoned that those numbers on each map must have been the codes to get through each door. I still didn't know what the other arrows on each map meant, but, considering that Brent told me how lethal the contest was, I could only guess. I spent the time committing those numbers to memory since I knew I couldn't look in the book during the contest. I was willing to bet that, if Brent's story were true, cheating would be SEVERELY punished.

After spending the ten preparatory minutes drilling those numbers into my mind, a buzzer sounded, and the backdoor flew open. I dashed through like a dog was chasing me. The first room had pools of steaming green liquid randomly placed between me and the next door. I jumped past almost all of them, but my toe caught the lip of the last one, plunging into the liquid. The burning pain almost paralyzed me, but I gathered my wits enough to pull it out. Limping slightly, I pounded the first code into the keypad and escaped.

The process was similar in the next three rooms. The second had a pack of hungry pit bulls in the way. One got a chunk out of the leg that was already damaged in the first room. The third room had me cross a balance beam over a pit of blades. The fourth involved crossing a room littered with small barricades while an auto-targeting crossbow fired at me. One bolt even went through my left arm. I survived as well as I did because the arrows on the maps were pointing to the optimal places to get through each obstacle.

The last room was filled with gas that burned my eyes. I was coughing hard when I punched in the last code and stumbled out. By the time I could see again, "Monty" was standing over me, looking like he's trying to hide his fury.

"How did you do it?" he quietly asked. "No one has ever made it before. How did you do it?"

I coughed out, "Maybe no one was as determined as I was."

"Monty" gave a fiendish smirk, handing over the case with the money. "Well, you did it. There's just one further condition."

"What?" I rasped.

"This night didn't happen."

I felt a sharp pain like a needle in my butt before blacking out.

After who knows how long, I felt sunlight beyond my eyelids. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was home in bed. I was much groggier than usual. Was the whole night a dream? I looked to my left and saw the case. I stumbled to it, put it up on the dining room table, and opened it. The money was there. I barely had time to register this when there was a knock on my door.

I opened the door with the chain still attached. It was a cop.

"Can I help you?" I mumbled.

After introducing himself, he asked me if I knew about a murder that happened in front of the complex. Some guy was shot a dozen times. I told him I didn't know anything; I was sleeping off a hangover.

"Who was it?"

He pulled out a picture of the victim. It was "Monty".

Thanks for reading! Like this little tale and want more? Let me know, and take care!

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About the Creator

Adam Wallace

I put up pieces here when I can, mainly about games and movies. I'm also writing movies, writing a children's book & hosting the gaming channel "Cool Media" on YouTube! Enjoy & find me on Twitter!

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