Mario’s loud ringtone blares. “It’s the moving company,” he says. “Un momento.”
“But—”
I know dealing with the moving truck is really important, especially because Mario bumped his move date up to Monday. But I really want this memory with him.
We put our belongings in lockers and Liam breaks down the dos and don’ts of escape rooms while we wait for Mario—luckily, Mario already knows how to play. The rules are simple: we have an hour to escape and can ask for clues at any time.
“The theme is the Z-Virus,” Liam says, running a hand through his blond hair. “A global pandemic is turning people into zombies. Very scary stuff. Your mission is to explore the abandoned laboratory and escape with the antidote. Or the world is over.”
Patrick pretends to shiver in fear. “Ooh. We’ve got our work cut out for us!”
Dylan pretends to stab Patrick in the back.
“Are you ready to begin?” Liam asks, opening the door to the room.
“Oh, uh, Mario should be back any moment,” I say.
Liam checks his watch. “There’s a party coming after you. We really have to begin.”
Dylan’s eyes widen. “Uh. What happens if we don’t escape?”
“How do you mean?” Liam asks dryly.
“I feel as if my question is clear.”
“Narratively or in reality?”
“Both?” Dylan asks.
“Narratively, you die. In reality, we let you out.”
Dylan nods his head, slowly, like he’s digesting this response. “What if . . .” He turns back to the front door, where Mario is still outside on the phone. “What if we don’t want to leave the room?”
“Are you stalling?” Liam asks.
“How dare—”
“Well, this is your reservation time. If you don’t go now, we’re still charging you. You have thirty seconds before I close the door.”
Dylan does this low growl. He turns to me and Patrick. “So it’s just us . . .”
Patrick rubs his hands together. “I’m so excited! It’s my first time.” He steps inside.
“Kill me,” Dylan says.
“Ten seconds,” Liam says.
“I’m going to grab Mario,” I say.
Dylan grabs me by the wrist and drags me inside.
Liam closes the door behind us.
“D!”
“There’s no way in hell I was going to be locked alone in a room with Patrick for a whole hour,” Dylan whispers.
“And now I don’t have Mario.”
“You’ll live.” Dylan points at Patrick. “He wouldn’t have.”
This sucks. No leaving early without forfeiting. Maybe Liam will have a heart and break the rules by letting Mario in.
The laboratory has a flashing red overhead light with a low alarm sound. It smells like Styrofoam and paint. There’s some dried fake blood over some documents and a dirty magnifying glass. Patrick puts on a lab coat with a torn sleeve.
“This is so cool,” Patrick says.
Dylan mouths-mocks him.
“Where do we start?” I ask, ignoring him.
Patrick picks up a first aid kit. “Maybe this is something.”
“Doubt it,” Dylan says.
I check out the first aid kit and there’s a combination lock. This is definitely something. We search for the numbers we need and Patrick quickly finds them inside the bloody documents. I let him have the honor of opening the kit himself. We find gloves, a stethoscope, a vial, and a key.
“Ha, they locked up a key,” Patrick says. “Clever.” He walks off with the key. “We should find the lock.”
“Sherlock Holmes,” Dylan mutters.
“D, he’s chill. Be nice.”
On the other side of the room, Patrick tries opening all the drawers in the desk. Dylan and I check some cabinets.
“Sorry about Mario. The move stress is catching up to him.”
“And now we have to survive the zombie apocalypse . . . and Patrick.”
Nonexistent zombies and one of the nicest people on the planet. How will we survive?
Some of us have real escapes we’re thinking about.
I keep thinking about how hard it was seeing Arthur and Mikey at the Pride parade. I guess I always thought I’d be the one showing Arthur his first New York Pride. It’s like I have a whole box of hypothetical Arthur moments tucked away in my brain. It mostly random stuff, like carving pumpkins or washing dishes. Or even just holding hands on the street, or linking arms the way Arthur and Mikey were.