Chapter 11 Fine Print

  We get Juan signed up on the computer too. I keep an eye out for Holos trying to sneak up on us. I jump a bit as the lights at the end of the lobby turn on, lighting the way to the auditorium. It’s probably a trap.

  Juan and I cautiously slink down the hallway, chair legs raised like clubs. As we walk, the lights continue flickering on, one by one. Maybe it’s this mysterious person trying to showcase how powerful they are. How much they’re in control. A scare tactic? The effect is cheapened since half the lights are broken or missing. I tighten my grip around my wooden chair leg, feeling the grain scrape against my fingers.

  I bet this is how a cornered rat feels as Old Garth looms over them. But even Old Garth waits for them to tire out before he pounces. Nobody wants to mess with a cornered rat. Neither would this joker after I got done with them.

  At the end of the hallway is the entrance to a large ballroom. The marble floors look spotless. I’m guessing the Holos have been cleaning up around here too. Several major dents left in the floor highlight the history from some previous catastrophe. Old-fashioned lanterns line the walls, and four large wooden doors with gouges in them lend a foreboding feeling to our passage. The fake lanterns flare to our right to clearly indicate which doorway for us to go through.

  I go left. A second doorway is a second option. Maybe I can enter a different route without being noticed. Juan raises an eyebrow at me. I go through a series of gestures trying to explain my thought process of figuring out how much this mastermind can control our environment. Juan raises his other eyebrow at me. Then he winks and grins. Kicking the door in front of him.

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  I roll my eyes at Juan and proceed to open the left door as quietly as I can while he distracts.

  A dimly lit auditorium greets my eyes. Small floor lights line the carpeted walkway in front of me, but they remain unlit. Empty seats spread into the darkness as a silent audience to whatever crazy game is going on here. There’s a balcony above me and walls providing a shadowed entranceway for me to hide in. I slowly lower myself into an army crawl on the floor, using the shadows as concealment, and trying to keep my ‘weapon’ from scraping along the floor. The carpet helps muffle any noise I make as I crawl my way to the stage.

  “Hola, amigo or amigos!” I watch, a little stunned, as Juan acts like a complete ham. I thought he hated attention. Juan takes his chair leg off his shoulder and points at the stage. “Anybody out there? Are you too scared to talk back to me? Can you even talk or are you just a widdle bébé?” Juan purses his lips and acts like he’s crying. He then taps on the rows of chairs with his makeshift club as he swaggers down the row of lights.

  I struggle to focus on my stealthy crawl. It’s a real shame. I’d pay money to watch a recording of this. Maybe if I can find the server room for the cameras I can save the footage. For posterity of course. Not for movie night.

  Juan yells, “Why don’t you come out and face me like a real man!?“

  A slender hand pokes out from behind the curtain where the light is highlighting it and waves. “And what if I am not a man?” A small heart-shaped face smiles back at Juan and bats long eyelashes at him. I hear him try to stammer out a response. Is he shy? I barely keep from snickering as the lights all ignite, bathing the disheveled room in color.

  We're not alone.