18
19. 6. 22, Saturday, 14:27
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emma growled. “Fred, you better be right. I’m putting up with all these ants for you.”
“My legs,” Julian complained. “Are you sure we couldn’t just message Curtis? We did steal his profile paper.”
“Hid behind the curtains and behind a suit of armour to steal it,” Lana agreed.
“Really feeling the love,” Freddie muttered. “Chris was pretty adamant about it last night. If we called Curtis or even messaged him, Damon or Gwenda or the butler or someone would know.”
“Wow, wow, wow.” Denver shifted his feet. “Back up a bit. You forgot to tell us that.”
“Pretty sure I did,” Freddie said, surprised. “In my defence, all of you didn’t tell me everything either.”
“Ugh, one more time, rehash what Chris said,” Adonis said. “Explain to us why the heck we can’t just email or call Curtis Ashwood to interrogate him about the letter, but instead we had to pretend to be ill again, come out here in these bloody bushes to squat and wait for whoever Roger and Yates are to get in the van we’re watching in the garage we just found out about at the back of Ashwood Mansion so we can hitch a ride back to the city to find wherever the heck Curtis lives.”
“How did Chris even find your number?” Leo asked.
“He got our email, said something about ‘the first name signed at the end is usually the one writing the email’. His sister Harriet works in some phone company, so he got her to find my number,” Freddie replied. “According to Chris whoever you call or message can and will be tracked and seen by Damon or whoever works for him in that department. So all our calls to our parents and friends are monitored, therefore if we contacted Curtis Damon would know.”
“If that’s true, then Damon will see we’ve emailed all the past contestants,” Lana worried. “Crap.”
“Well, who has the patience to check every dang call made by contestants?” Freddie pointed out. “Hopefully Damon won’t see it. Chris said he only monitors it because of an incident with one of the first ever contestants was actually a mole sent by a rival, so Damon wanted to go find out who it was.”
“Fine,” Denver sighed. “I guess this is why we’re here to go see Curtis in the flesh.”
“But if Chris knows the calls are being watched, why’d he bother calling you?” Julian demanded. “Stupid.”
“Like I said, and I even showed you guys the paper, everything else he said is kind of in code, so we’ll probably have to figure it out later.”
“Those numbers?” Emma mused. “I’m not good at math.”
“Don’t think its math,” Leo said. “It’s probably one of those match-the-numbers-to-the-letters things.”
“If it were that easy,” Adonis grunted. “Damon could figure it out too. Also, what’s to stop him from listening on our calls with the past contestants?”
“Chris said as long as we didn’t use their Wi-Fi we don’t have to worry about that,” Freddie explained. “I rescheduled those, seeing as we’re busy today, by the way.”
“We’ll shelve the issue for now,” Lana cut in. “Roger and Yates will be coming soon. One more time, recite the plan. And sanitize your hands.”
“We hide at the back of the van,” Julian said.
“We wait until they park then get off,” Denver continued.
“Then flag a cab to Paradise Apartments,” Emma added.
“Question Curtis,” Leo went on.
“Get another cab to wherever Roger and Yates parked,” Adonis sighed.
“Before 5:30, ‘cause that’s when they come back here,” Freddie finished.
“Good, now let’s go – they’re nearly here,” Lana ordered. She sprang to her feet but still stayed low enough to remain unseen and darted to the van. Silently throwing open the left door, she beckoned for the rest to follow suit.
“Has it occurred to any of you that this plan’s factors are rather unreliable?” Emma mumbled as she hopped in.
The door swung shut just as Roger and Yates got in, unknowing of their seven uneasy stowaways hiding behind the last row of seats.
***
Paradise Apartments’ lobby was very, very grand, though according to Google the apartments had been around for quite some time. The glass walls and doors were mostly spotless, save for the occasional handprints. The black sofas had no tears, but it the worn-ness of it showed how long it had been there, like the faint water stains on the white coffee tables. A lone janitor hummed to himself as he mopped at the chess board patterned floors.
Well, at least that was what the Phobia Club could see from the outside.
“How do we get in?” Lana fretted. “We don’t know anyone living here other than Curtis that will vouch for us! We shouldn’t talk to strangers either, we might get kidnapped!”
Adonis put his shoulder to the door and tried to push it open, to no avail. “Yeesh.”
“Great, come all this way just to be defeated by a door,” Emma moaned.
“Pretend to be delivery people?” Leo suggested half-heartedly.
“We got any packages?” Freddie asked.
“Found the rack where they leave the packages,” Julian’s voice called. He showed up a few seconds later, a package in his hands. “1806, right?”
“1809, stupid,” Denver corrected.
“Oops.” Julian disappeared again and came back, sitting on the stairs with the other six, another parcel in his hand.
Adonis took it. “From Ms. Wendi O. O’Hara, addressed to one Curtis Ashwood.”
“I’m buzzing us in,” Lana said. She jumped to her feet and headed to the buzzer, slamming her hand on the call button. A voice distorted by static was produced.
“Uh, who is this?”
“Delivery for Curtis Ashwood,” she announced.
“Right, come on up.”
The seven grinned at each other and tugged open the doors, greeted by a blast of really, really cold air, sending their body temperature spiralling downwards. Except for an old lady sitting on the couch and a teenage boy holding skateboards going ‘No, Kevin, you hit the wall the last time’ to his pouting younger brother, no one else saw the Phobia Club slip into the elevator, which was thankfully empty, but then again the aggravatingly cheerful music being repeated by the speakers was enough to have anyone running out of the elevator at full speed once the doors open. Which was exactly what the seven did.
1805…1806…1807…1808…
1809.
Adonis knocked – well, pounded would be more accurate – on the wooden door. The other six stood around him. There was enough tension in the air to fill an ocean.
The door opened, revealing –
“Hi, sorry, I was kind of busy with something, sorry for the wait and – you’re not my pizza.”
“No, we’re not,” Freddie agreed.
Curtis’s mouth closed and opened for a few times before it finally decided on shutting. “You’re the kids on TV, aren’t you? …and if you’re here…no….no….not again.”
“Mmm,” Emma nodded, bewildered.
“Get in. Now. Before anyone sees you.”
***
Curtis Ashwood looked nothing like his stepbrother, Damon.
For starters, Damon cut a burly figure in his costly, posh business suits, whereas Curtis’s green camo hoodie and loose grey leggings hung off him like a scarecrow. Another thing was Damon’s hair, which had enough gel in it to fill a pitcher and everyone’s cups at a picnic – not that anyone drank gel – unlike Curtis’s ombre golden dye on his spiky hair.
Also, Curtis was barely above average height. If he and Damon stood next to each other, Damon would’ve dwarfed him by an entire ruler.
“Yeah, I know, I know, I don’t look like Damon,” Curtis agreed when he caught them staring as he locked the door. “He looks more like my father, I’m more on my mother’s side.”
Their host jerked his head towards the futon. “Sit, sit. Come on, you introduce yourselves to me and I let you just stand in my home like that? That’s just bad manners. I just have to make sure no one can get in first.”
Yeah, not creepy at all.
The apartment was rather small, with white walls and wooden floorboards. In front of the door was a wooden canteen-style dining table with a Starbucks drink and a laptop on it, the kitchen to the right, the bedroom behind the living room which comprised of a TV on the wall surrounded by glass cabinets displaying books, records, photos and figurines, a blue futon, navy beanbag and a table cluttered with…chew toys?
“How often do you clean?” Lana said. “No germs, right? Also no health hazards, right?”
“I’m guessing you’re the thanatophobe?” Curtis said, mouth twitching as he turned around to face them. “And yeah, I clean every day. Kind of a requirement when you own two cats and a dog.”
“Wow, where?”
“It’s allowed?”
“THEY’VE HAD THEIR RABIES SHOT, RIGHT?”
A hiss above Lana’s head made her shriek and jump. She whipped her head around to see why everyone was laughing.
“Ooh, nice cat,” she said, grabbing the squirming grey creature.
“I think his brother is somewhere in my bedroom, my dog’s at the vet,” Curtis said vaguely, plopping himself on the edge of the futon; most of the seven had already taken over the beanbag.
“What brings you here?” he went on. He seemed to know the answer already, judging by his darting eyes. “Oh, and there’s biscuits if you want them.”
Julian stuck his hand into his backpack, plucking out the letter they had found in the box. He handed it to Curtis, who read it with a crease between his brows.
“So…you found the Trail,” he said finally.
“If you mean the notes, the arrows, the box, the hidden hallways, the keys, then yeah,” Leo said.
Curtis scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Do you know where it leads?”
“At first we just thought it was some bonus adventure, part of the show,” Emma admitted. “Then we found the letter. Did your grandfather make the Trail? Also what’s he talking about in the letter? Why is it addressed to you?”
“Wow, so many questions,” Curtis winced. “You know, another bunch of contestants came to me months ago with the same story. But I’m not letting what happened to them happen to you guys, so listen to me, okay?”
“I’ll answer your questions, but promise me after this you’ll abandon this and leave the show. Forget about it all. This isn’t your burden.”
No sounds, except for the purring of the cat.
“We’re not promising anything until you give us answers,” Adonis said firmly at last.
Curtis sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Understandable. This is going to take a while.”
***
“You guys already know that my grandfather is a scientist. He was the best. He’d tell me all about all the things he’d invented, all the breakthroughs he made. But he was especially proud of what he had been working on five years before he retired.
It was a serum. Not just any medical cure to anything. This serum, from what I understand, it would numb or take out the purpose of the amygdala. For your information that’s the part of the brain that controls fear.”
“So, Jon was making a serum that would make us…fearless?” Denver said sceptically.
“Sort of, yeah,” Curtis nodded. “Anyone who took the serum would never be afraid of anything ever again. You’d never be afraid of anything, anyone. It was a really great thing. Imagine, never having to be afraid ever again.”
To never fear bugs, water, heights, statues, spiders, wide open spaces and death, ever, ever, ever again? Never ever having to be held back by fear?
The Phobia Club leaned in closer.
“At first everything was peachy, the test results being what it was intended to do.”
“Then what, someone stole it?” Freddie asked.
“Nope. My grandfather was still keeping the testers – I’m sorry to say they were actual people, lab rats and guinea pigs – under surveillance. For the first few days, weeks, it looked like the serum had worked. But then they started getting more violent, reckless.
There was nothing wrong with the serum. It’s just that, once you stopped being afraid of anything, you don’t care anymore. You might not be afraid of normal things like spiders and bugs and whatnot, but then it meant you’re not afraid of getting hurt. You’re not afraid of getting killed. You just didn’t care about what happened to you anymore. I’m not proud to say Jon had to put them all to sleep, but they were getting too violent.”
“Jon killed them?” Lana whispered, horrified.
“No, but his superiors were forced to put them down when one of them attacked a scientist. I told you, they weren’t afraid of anything. Not consequences.”
“So you’re saying fear is a good thing?” Adonis demanded.
Curtis shrugged. “In a certain amount, yeah. It keeps you safe. Removing it completely would mean you lost all sense of caution. Ever seen those horror movies where the main character isn’t afraid of going into the house and gets killed? Just imagine that, but with literally everything.”
“I’m assuming the serum project got cancelled?” Julian asked.
“No, that’s the bad part. Jon tried to show what happened to his team and the higher-ups, but they didn’t really think it was a bad thing. They wanted to release it to the world. The serum was perfected already, as far as they were concerned.”
“Oh, heck,” Emma gasped. “The letter…”
“Yeah,” Curtis said morosely. “At first he hid the serum to keep it from getting stolen. He was going to take it out the moment he got the say-so. Then when he realized what it would really do he decided to let it remain hidden. But others didn’t think so. It needed to be destroyed.”
“Hidden at…Ashwood Mansion, where he lived,” Adonis guessed. Curtis made a face, indicating that as much as he wished it wasn’t, it was.
“And he wanted you to do it,” Freddie summed up. “Uh, not to be rude, but why not Damon? Or anyone else?”
“Let’s just say,” Curtis said carefully. “Damon and him weren’t very close. Damon was kind of the black sheep, wanting to go with his mom Stella when his parents split up. Also, I think he resented my dad for remarrying and having me. He probably felt like he was being shoved aside.”
“And actually, I wasn’t the only one. I had a sister. Maybe you heard of her? Marie Ashwood.” Curtis reached for a framed photograph on the table, passing it to the Phobia Club.
There was something written on the top left corner, informing the seven it was taken five years ago at Niagara Falls. Curtis waved at the camera, one arm slung around a brunette wearing a yellow raincoat.
“So, yeah. Jon wanted Marie and I to go find the serum and destroy it,” Curtis said, exhaling hard.
“Then why didn’t you?” Denver asked.
“In the beginning we did,” Curtis sighed. “Then five years ago Marie’s house caught on fire. She and her husband Franklin died. The house was burnt down to a crisp – they never found their bodies. I didn’t want to continue the search after that. Besides, the serum was already forgotten by then. It would never be found.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” Lana said, swallowing. The rest fell silent, before Leo realized something.
“Wait, if Jon created the Trail to hide the serum, how did it end up in the Rooms?”
“Oh, the Rooms used to be where the testers were put, to match up what they were afraid of and see how well the serum would work,” Curtis explained. “Damon’s just re-using them.”
“And we found the Trail,” Julian said. “Also we found out that other contestants might have too.”
“I know,” Curtis said, frowning. “It might have been an accident. But the thing is, the other contestants also came to me. I tried to get them to quit, and they promised me they would, but then I visited them after they left the show.”
“And?” Denver prompted.
“And they don’t remember any of it. I think someone brainwashed them, they’ve all seemed to lost their sanity. I think someone knows about the serum and is wiping their memories about it. But why, I don’t know.”
The Phobia Club sat in silence as Curtis leaned forward to look them in the eye. “And I don’t want you to investigate further. Something is going on. You might – scratch that, you will – get hurt. I am not going to let that happen. I’ll take care of this; I have an idea of who is behind all this, but you’re not going to be part of it.”
“Promise me, alright?” Curtis persisted. “Prom –”
The window shattered.
He gasped and fell forward.
Something was sticking out of his neck.
A dart.
They were all screaming, screaming, screaming now. There was no sign of who had shot at the window. But there had to be a sign that Curtis was still alive and not –
Curtis’s eyes were wide and unfocused, but he was mouthing something to the seven gather around him.
“…get…out…now…”
“C’mon! We’ll call the police, the ambulance once we’re outside!” Adonis shouted, running to the door. “The guy who shot it might still be around!”
Julian, Denver, Leo and Emma ran out. They couldn’t leave Curtis there, could they? He needed to be taken to the hospital, the police had to be called –
But his instructions were clear. Get out.
The person who shot it might come after them next.
Curtis was right.
Someone was going to get hurt if they continued.
“Come on!” Emma screamed. “Lana, Fred!”
But Freddie and Lana weren’t coming. Not yet. Curtis was saying something else. Even as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. They leaned over him.
“Something about a box on the shelf,” Lana gasped.
“There!” Freddie spotted the box on top of the glass cabinets. She jumped and grabbed it. Lana took her hand.
The seven ran for their lives.