Page 49 of Love at Full Tilt

Alistair’s chilling laugh pulls my attention back to the screen.

“One last thing, superfans. A recent experiment of mine might have gotten…loose…in the workshop. Be careful when you’re in there.

If it catches you, you lose.” A graphic replaces his face: the silhouette of a monster pressing its hand on the shoulder of a person.

Next to it reads: If you are tagged by the monster, you are automatically eliminated.

Another obstacle. Another way to whittle us down. They really aren’t going to make this last day easy. I can’t imagine what the clues will look like after this.

The screen goes dark, and the metal door of the workshop eases open. All twenty-five of us hurry inside. There are no lights and I can barely see two inches in front of my face. Around me, people mumble in confusion.

“This is impossible.”

“Is there a light switch somewhere?”

“This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

I reach out, cautiously feeling for whatever furniture or other obstacles might be in the vicinity. If we have to find Alistair’s tools in the dark, then that’s what I’ll do.

A second later, the door to the workshop snick s shut behind us, and bright fluorescents snap on overhead, bathing the antiseptic room in harsh light.

I blink against the glare as I take in my surroundings. The walls are white; the cabinets, counters, and other fixtures stainless steel. The floors are black tile, and at the center of the room is what looks like a giant operating table.

The workshop stretches about half the length of my house before breaking off into three darkened corridors. Given the lockers that line them, we’re probably going to have to venture that way.

There’s a monitor mounted above the door, and it begins counting down the seconds from ninety. At the same time, my phone beeps with a notification from the contest app. Ember, Erica, Mason, and a few others look at their phones as well.

The hint for this clue has come in.

I tap the icon: Alistair’s thread of life is stitched, not spooled.

My gaze cuts back to the room. I notice that there are multiple shelves stocked with spools of thread in a variety of colors. Most people will probably head there immediately, but now I know not to waste my time.

My heart batters my chest as I watch the numbers pass. Six…five…four…three…two…one.

I hold my breath. The room is so silent that it feels like everyone else is doing the same.

After the buzzer sounds, there is one last beat of quiet, as if we are all frozen in place, then pandemonium.

Everyone rushes in different directions, and the room is full of loud, anxious breathing and the intermittent slamming of doors and drawers as Erica and some others ransack the room.

They’re so intent on finding the items that no one is really paying attention to anyone else unless they bump into one another.

Like we’re all here in this room, and yet somehow each of us is alone.

I want to be a little more methodical, so I stand still and take in the space. Above my head, the monitor now holds a leaderboard, and I see the zero beside the name Jorge switch to a one as a contestant scans an item somewhere in the workshop.

My pulse races, but I need to be smart about this. Patience and efficiency will help me win. The tortoise and the hare and all that.

Since I have information about the thread of life, I decide to start there. In the film, it’s an iridescent silver, and I know from the hint that it won’t be on a spool. So where could it be? Probably not just cast away in a cabinet or locker. Not when Alistair needed it for every experiment.

Toward the back of the room, there are metal drawers in rows of three that look like something out of a morgue. To house Alastair’s creations, I guess. Maybe he was in the middle of one when he lost his thread.

That guess is as good as any other, so I hurry over there.

Most of the other contestants are focused on the supply cabinets or have disappeared down the hallways, so I’m alone as I yank open the top row of drawers.

Thankfully, they’re empty. I could barely reach the handle to release them—I would have needed a step stool if there’d been something in them to inspect.

It takes every bit of strength I have to heave open the center drawer in the next row.

I swallow back a screech as the drawer slides out, revealing a life-size crocodile prone on it.

On each side, what looks like leopard legs have been stitched in place of the crocodile’s own limbs.

Shimmering next to one of the furry black leopard spots is a strand of silver thread.

And beside it, fixed to the crocodile’s scaly back, the QR code.

My hands tremble as I fumble to scan it. As soon as I hear the beep, I whip my head around to check the monitor.

I’m in third. I need to protect this head start.

Shoving the drawer back in, I waste no time dashing across the room to hunt through the cabinets and drawers for the needle.

I don’t really have a strategy this time, but there are a ton of medical supplies in the cabinets on the right side of the room, so I target them first. I find only sterile-looking silver syringes, nothing like the thick, crooked black needle Alistair uses to sew together his monsters.

Crap. Where else could it be? Closing my eyes, I think back to the movie. Where did Alistair keep his needle? He always had it with him.

And he was usually wearing his lab coat in the workshop.

I spin around, looking for anything tall enough to store acoat.

Between hallways I notice two closet doors. My hands are shaking as I throw one, then the other, open. But neither closet has a lab coat. Just cleaning equipment and stacks of jars full of cloudy liquids with who knows what suspended in them.

Ducking around a cluster of contestants emptying the trash bins, I sprint into the first hallway. There are maybe ten or fifteen lockers, and as I peer into each one only to discover they’re empty, it feels like a countdown, ticking me closer to losing everything I’ve worked so hard for this week.

By the time I reach the last locker, a thick blanket of doubt has settled over me. Maybe I’m remembering the movie wrong? Did Alistair have a lab coat? Could I be confusing him with a scientist from one of Fable Industry’s sci-fi features?

I yank the metal door open and let out a yelp as something thin and white billows toward me. For a full minute, I’m convinced it’s a ghost and I’m about to be possessed. I don’t recognize the outline of the lab coat until my heart settles.

Sometimes, this place is a little too immersive. Forget “fall into your imagination.” More like, “careful it doesn’t scare you todeath.”

Saying a little prayer to Sam Casterman for help, I dive my hand into one pocket, then the other. From the second one, I fish out a plastic bag. It cradles Alistair’s needle, a QR code affixed to the outside.

I’m practically yelling as I scan the black-and-white box.

There’s one tool left to find. I’m kicking ass. Scavenger hunting the hell out of this place, as Tess would say.

I might truly win.

On weightless legs, I dash back toward the workshop. My path crosses Mason’s as I reach the brightly lit lab. I skip my gaze to my feet and angle my shoulder to slip past him, but he stops, blocking me.

“Seven people are already through,” he says.

My eyes search out the monitor for confirmation. Sure enough, seven names have completed beside them. I’m shocked to see that both Ember and Erica still need one more item to finish. I thought for sure they’d be at the top of the chart.

I nod to Mason in thanks, but then I’m off running again before he disrupts my focus. There’s something in the movie about the well water needing darkness to maintain its magic. It could be hidden in one of the cabinets.

I’m passing the operating table when the lights flicker out. Several people yell out in surprise, and I hear what sounds like someone tripping.

The air around me feels thicker, the room fuller somehow, like more people have crowded in. Someone screams.

The lights blaze on again, and I discover we aren’t alone.

In the middle of the room stands one of Alistair’s creatures.

It’s almost as big as me and jet black, with the wings and beak of a bird.

Its legs look like they belong to a goat, and antlers grow from the top of its head.

When it turns my way, I realize the beak has teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth.

This must be the creature Alistair warned us about in the video. I shudder. If someone told me right now that I’d slipped into a horror movie, I’d one hundred percent believe them. That thing looks way too real.

I back toward the sink, hoping to stay off the creature’s radar. If it tags one of us, we’re out. I can’t let that happen.

Thankfully, it lunges at the first person who runs, and chases him down the far hallway.

Everyone seems to see this as a sign to hustle, and a fervor of frantic movement fills the room. I beeline for the sink and throw open the surrounding cabinets. They’re full of odds and ends, anything Alistair could use to fuse his creations together.

Under the basin, I notice something red and white with a handle. I shove aside chemicals and cleaning solutions to shimmy the object out. It’s a cooler, white on the bottom and red on the top, like the one my mom would send me on school field trips with.

I can’t imagine Alistair would hide precious magic water in something like this, but it’s cool and dark, so I set it on the counter to check.

I don’t even have time to open it. The bird-deer-goat thing has crashed back into the room, its sights set on Erica. She’s screaming like the monster might actually kill her, elbowing aside anyone who gets in her way.

Barreling straight for me, she grabs the handle of the cooler and jerks it off the counter. I’m still holding it, so the force sends me flying between her and the creature. She wrenches the cooler from my hands and then knocks me back into Alistair’s monster.

I feel its wing settle on my shoulder.

My body freezes as if the thing has ice powers.

The creature tagged me. I’m out.

I can barely function as it gestures for me to scan the code under its wing, confirming my elimination.

I stand in the middle of the room, shock numbing everything but my burning eyes.

My vision is blurry as I watch Erica tip open the cooler and pull a jar out from inside.

It’s an opaque mason jar with liquid that twinkles like stars.

I was right. I had the well water in my hand until Erica stole it from me. I should have been on that leaderboard. I should be one step closer to winning. I glance at the monitor. All the spots but two are full now. And I won’t be one of them.

My stomach cramps, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. But I also want to scream. And break something. My hands clutch at the hem of my shorts, my nails stabbing into the weave of the denim like knives.

Erica sets the jar down to get her phone, and a part of me—the part that refuses to accept I’ve lost—considers rushing forward and scanning it anyway.

Maybe giving her a good push in the process.

Screw the rules. It’s not as if Erica has followed them either.

And now she’s going to get the chance to win.

But before I can move, Mason is in front of her. He plucks the jar from her hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screeches. Her face is bright red, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“Making sure you lose,” he says softly.

He’s just standing there, holding the jar.

“Mason! Finish this. Win!” I holler. Why the hell isn’t he scanning the code?

Erica swats at him, even tries to tackle him. She’s threatening him with everything from lawsuits to being doxed.

Mason remains statue-still. Only his eyes move, searching me out, clinging to me, as if there aren’t twenty-three other people around us. As if Erica isn’t trying to knock him over. “None of this is worth it without you,” he says.

On the monitor above his head, I watch another name blink onto the list. We’re down to one spot. What is he doing? “No,” I insist. “Get the money for school.”

Mason turns away from me. I see his eyes land on Ember. They’re rifling through stacks of file folders, their movements frantic. Dodging another swipe from Erica, Mason calls out to them. When they face him, he tosses Ember the jar.

Ember catches it, surprise creasing their brow. “Uh, thanks,dude.”

Mason nods. “Win the whole thing,” he tells them.

Ember scans the code. A wide smile brightens their face when their name pops up in the last spot on the leaderboard.

A moment later, my phone dings. The event is over.

For Mason and me, so is the contest.

Erica fires an impressive string of curses at Mason, then storms off, demanding to talk to a manager.

I’m shaking as I step toward him. My heart has two holes now—one from him, and one from losing this contest. If either gets any bigger, I’m afraid I’ll fall to pieces.

“Why would you do that?” I demand.

“I never expected to win.” His watercolor eyes settle on me. Drink me in. Devour me whole.

“But you could have.” I want to pound on his chest the same way Erica did. It almost hurts worse knowing we both lost.

“School’s not going anywhere.”

“Mason.”

“Lia. Yesterday, that was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

Letting you walk away like that. Then not answering you.

” He shakes his head. “I was scared. I couldn’t see an answer, so instead of trying to find one, I gave up.

” He reaches out like he wants to take my hand, but then lets his fall back to his side.

“I’ve had tunnel vision for so long. School is all I’ve been working toward.

I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of having two dreams. I didn’t think I could want two things.

That the universe would let me have them both. ”

I’m trying to listen to him, to let his words sink in, even as my brain repeats, Lost, lost, lost. “You can still have them.”

“I can keep working toward school, sure. But you leave tomorrow.” His mouth tenses, and a muscle in his jaw ripples as he swallows. “Lia, I’m not good with words. I needed a way to show you that I’m not ready to let go either. I want us to try to figure this out together.”

“Another alliance?” I offer him a small smile.

He doesn’t respond, but he reaches for me again. Slowly. Hesitantly.

This time, I let my fingers find his. And as his warm palm presses against mine, I feel one of those holes in my heart shrink a little.