Get Out If You Can

Hunter | Two Can Keep A Secret, If One Of Them Is Dead

"I...thought of something," Alison says, lowering her eyes.

I've never seen her this terrified before. Her eyes are wide and glassy, and the brown color in them looks like wildfire. Her lips are slightly parted, and she's breathing very — raggedly.

I don't think I'm very prepared to hear what she — she thinks. I've had enough of all this.

My fingers trace the border of my second hand tuxedo. A whole hundred dollars. For what? To look appropriate for my own funeral?

I don't think much of that idea.

My eyes wander to where Alison is sitting, her face set in an expression that reveals she's realized something, and it isn't something good. I brace myself for the worst. It's all we've been getting in this time. I wonder if there's a way to contact people from here. If people even lived here while telephone technology existed, then there should be some method. I don't know. So far, all the gates have been shut.

"Guys," Alison slowly begins, not meeting anyone's eye. "Let's go to the place that the vandal mentioned on my room wall. Madison tower, curved hallway seven. Remember?"

"Just spit it out, will you?" Matt says, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "We don't really need the anticipation."

"Please," Alison says, still not looking at anyone. "I'll tell you on the way there. Mine's just a guess, but..."

My eyes stray to Diego, who couldn't have looked more miserable. It's clear that whatever Alison is thinking has something to do with him, and if I were him...

Let's just say that would not be very comfortable. I stand up, looking at the rest of them.

"Let's go, then?" I say.

"Yeah." Diego stands up too, giving Alison a hand. "It isn't like we have a lot of time. We've got around eight hours left, and who knows what..."

"Don't complete that sentence," Alison says, now walking towards the exit. "We don't exactly want to think of that. Okay, follow me."

***

"So what did you realize?" I ask, quickening my pace to fall into step beside her. "About the gramophone recording?"

"Oh, that," she says, her stride steadying, like she could walk away from the topic. "Okay, everyone. Listen."

We're still walking towards the curved hallway at the border of Madison Tower. We don't know yet what 'seven' is supposed to stand for, but Matt reckons that there are seven floors, and a curved hallway for each of them. He's probably right; we've climbed five staircases up and it still seems like there are more. We've almost reached the sixth landing when Alison begins to speak.

"When Diego said the guy being threatened was his brother," she starts, and it's like everyone's breathing stops to listen. The only sound we can hear is the light, muffled shuffling of our feet on the floor. And in Alison's case, her bloody socks.

God, that must be hard, walking with a semi-impaled ankle.

"I had an idea," she continues, walking faster. A furtive glance behind me tells me that Diego's trying to walk faster, so he can catch what she's saying.

"Or rather I had a thought," she says, head still down. "I thought that the reason whoever's doing this must be showing — and telling — us all this is because they're connected — that is, the person who threatened Diego's brother and Caitlyn's killer – they might be, you know, linked."

She turns around a bit to look at us, then continues.

"Or maybe they could be the same person."