Page 9 of Insanium
As the foreboding voice faded into silence, the theater screen flickered and transformed, now showing a precise digital replica of our current setting. Each seat was meticulously represented, with those of us in them highlighted in a bright red glow. My attention homed in on the screen as two of these seats suddenly shifted to a bright green—Kristy’s and the seat of the guy beside her, another stranger to me.
This shift coincided with the appearance of two timers on the screen: a larger one at the top set for sixty minutes and a more immediate six-minute sequence.
As the timers began their countdown, a smile spread across my face. The show was well and truly on.
“Ah, I adore this piece!” I blurted out as the haunting strains of “Danse Macabre” began to weave through the air. The classical melody, both sinister and whimsical, seemed tailor-made for this very occasion.
Raphael shot me a look, one eyebrow arching in amusement. “Interesting choice for a favorite, but hey, if this is what you’re into, I’m all for it. I’ll remember this for the future.”
That implication caught my interest immediately. “Planning to stick around, are you?”
His response was lost to the swell of music and Liam’s booming voice from the back of the room. “Tyler, come on! Move!” he called to the redhead who was paired with Kristy.
Taking the cue that was apparently needed, Kristy and Tyler rose from their seats and finally began to search through the theater under our watchful gazes, nobody daring to stand or lend a hand.
The rules were clear, as was the time they had left.
“Where could a key possibly be in here?” Kristy pondered aloud, her voice tinged with urgency that echoed around the theater.
Tyler pointed towards the rows of seats, suggesting a logical starting point. “Let’s start with the obvious. Check under the chairs first. You take the bottom; I’ll head to the top.”
With that, they began to methodically inspect each chair. I scoffed. Did they truly believe they’d have time to check every damn seat?
I watched the clock as seconds disappeared, only looking away to make sure the clown by Aisha hadn’t moved a single inch.
Without any warning, the music stopped.
The silence that followed was heavy and loaded. Both Kirsty and Tyler quit what they were doing and looked around the room as if confused.
“What are you two doing? Get back to your seats, now!” the girl with the pixie cut shouted.
Kristy reacted with the immediacy of someone used to following orders, sprinting back to her chair.
It wasn’t surprising, considering her father’s reputation—an iron fist in a velvet glove, always too eager to impress my parents, which in turn made him entirely unimpressive.
Tyler, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation until it was almost too late.
He lingered at the top of the theater, dawdling as if he had all the time in the world. By the time he recognized his error and turned to sprint down the stairs, his window of opportunity had all but closed. One of the clowns moved to cut him off, a looming figure in the dim light.
“Back up!” Tyler barked, shoving the clown in the chest in a desperate bid to clear his path.
The clown looked down nonchalantly where Tyler’s hands had made contact, then locked eyes with him and pushed back hard, sending Tyler tumbling to the floor. He scrambled to get up, but the clown played a twisted game of denial, blocking every attempt Tyler made to bypass it.
It was clear the clown was toying with him, drawing out his desperation for our morbid entertainment. As the final seconds of Tyler’s timer dwindled, the clown’s hand disappeared into its voluminous costume, emerging with a grotesquely oversized, serrated knife. The clown’s movements were chillingly deliberate as they advanced on Tyler, who was frantically trying to escape. With a swift, practiced motion, the clown slashed across his back, the sound of tearing fabric followed by a raw scream as the blade split open his flesh.
“Oof.” I winced as the blade immediately sliced again, creating a deep crimson X.
Then, he did it again.
And again.
He sliced back and forth, all the while Tyler sobbed and tried to crawl away, blood pooling down his back and onto the floor. Someone gagged, losing their stomach to the scene. If this was all it took to unsettle them, they were in for a rough ride if they survived this first challenge.
“It’s killing him! Someone do something!” Janelle shrieked.
A few contestants squirmed in their seats, caught between the instinct to help and the realization that interfering was a fool’s errand. Personally, I found the notion of heroics in this game laughably naive.
From the back, a guy’s voice, tinged with irritation, called out to Janelle, “Do you not get that this is part of the challenge? He failed.”
