《Exit Strats》
I. Lifes A Game
Like a dog, F¨¦lix Viasma buried his most prized possessions out in the yard.
His cash. His wives.
Himself.
But unlike the shoeboxes of bills and bones hidden beneath his overgrown grass, F¨¦lix¡¯s final resting place stuck out like a sore thumb. Past the gazebo, the pok ta¡¯ pok rig, the Ferris wheel; the refrigerated woolly mammoths¡¯ enclosure, the dodos¡¯ nook; and further still, just behind the stone home community of his in-house emerald connoisseurs, it was marked by a¡ fitting headpiece.
It towered over the roof of his Park Avenue townhouse, distracting drivers and pedestrians alike with its glistening, gemmed-out spout. It doubled as an unofficial landmark¡ªthe first stop of the night for teens with toilet paper rolls and spray paint, and the last for the grumbling Neighborhood Watch, armed with cameras and notepads.
Its basins were forged of solid gold, each engraved with scenes from the highlight reel of his life. The first time he¡¯d bartered stolen tobacco leaves for a handful of shell beads. A true-to-life shot of the shit-eating grin he sported once the Wright boys finally let him take a joy ride in the Flyer I. There was even a first-person view from his front-row seat to Whitney Houston¡¯s performance of ¡°Star-Spangled Banner¡± at Super Bowl XXV.
And at the very bottom of the fountain, the man¡¯s epitaph was the icing on the cake. Crudely keyed into the metal and barely visible beneath the radioactive blue water frozen over it, the inscription was accompanied by a drawing of a frowning stick figure, covered in worms.
F¨¦lix Viasma is turning over a new leaf. Visitors will be used as its fertilizer.
¡°¡Cute.¡±
Yves¡¯ lips curled in a dry smirk before flattening again. The only thing that could have made it cuter was the little old man who¡¯d sworn he¡¯d be waiting on her in the yard, in the yard and waiting on her. Peppermint candy in one hand, briefcase(s) full of cash in the other, and his query on the tip of his tongue.
But alas.
So, in the meantime, Yves putzed around the yard. Cycled through her email, settings, and calculator apps. Even laid up against the fence for a bit of shut-eye.
And still, no F¨¦lix.
Time crawled by at half-speed as she baked under the New York City sun, waiting for a, ¡°My apologies, dear, seems I¡¯ve lost track of time,¡± or better yet a, ¡°I¡¯ll toss in an extra quarter million for the inconvenience,¡± that would never come.
Instead, the next thing she heard was a muffled creeeeak.
The tower of basins shifted before her eyes¡ªup into the sky, swaying in the air as if the structure weighed no more than a stack of feathers. A low grinding noise followed, dragging bubbles up to the surface as the mound of gold slid to the left.
¡°No way,¡± she breathed, blinking hard. Her hand darted to her forehead, pressing against her clammy skin as if the touch alone could confirm she wasn¡¯t hallucinating from heat stroke.
But the scene before her remained disturbingly real: a horrifically wrinkled set of hands was carrying the plug of what should have been the fountain¡¯s drainage system.
Yet, oddly enough, the water, like Yves, was locked in place¡ªas if it had forgotten the natural flow of things.
The hands set the plug off to the side, dusted themselves off, gave the base a pat for good measure, and sunk back into the hole.
A beat passed.
Then the hands reappeared, waving her down into the darkness.
Another beat.
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And the wave switched to a one-fingered beckon.
Then a mime¡¯s attempt at lassoing her into the tunnel.
But when she still didn¡¯t move, a head full of silver hair inched out into view. Through the lion¡¯s mane billowing in the eerily still water, Yves could just barely make out a pair of eyes, all too familiar and twinkling with mischief.
No fucking way.
Yves dropped dangerously close to the water. ¡°Mister Viasma?¡±
She received a quick thumbs up and a wink before the man vanished again, disappearing into the abyss.
As if in response, a sudden chill settled in over her. She gripped her sweat-damp arms for comfort as she pressed herself against the fence, blinking hard to ensure that she was awake.
But each time she opened her eyes, the yard''s displays, so charming and intriguing just a moment ago, seemed... different. Menacing.
The air in the yard felt heavier somehow, pressing against her lungs. The animals, once playing together, now were statues¡ªcold, fixed, unblinking. The lowest cabin on the ferris wheel began to sway, squeaking on its hinges. And she could have sworn she heard shuffling coming from between the stone homes.
A rogue dodo whipped its head around, locking eyes with her from across the yard, its dead stare rooting her in place. Its beak parted slightly, as if it wanted to warn her of something¡ªbut thought better of it. Even the stick figure seemed to hiss at her through its stern frown: ¡°Get outta here, lady; can¡¯t you read?¡±
But the nagging thought of all the zeroes the man''s leathery, liver-spotted hands would scrawl out on her check crept up on her. Nine zeroes, to be exact. Enough zeroes for her to finally wipe her hands clean of this¡ occupation of hers.
To quietly retire. To underpay a ¡°real¡± psychic to assume her role. The Second Coming of Yves, she¡¯d call her¡ªsome bright-eyed flunky (bless her heart) who would stroke her crystals, shuffle her cards, and, with love and light, of course, run what was left of Yves¡¯ shame into the ground for her.
And all the while, Yves would be off-grid and clocked out, lounging on a private island somewhere. Getting fat from expensive wine, tanned to a crisp¡ Reading something lewd and trashy, being fed grapes by big, muscly men¡
She let out a long sigh. Goddamn it.
Yves opened her phone to her call log and hesitated over the last entry. ¡°¡¯s just¡ standard protocol, right?¡± she mumbled to herself. No big deal.
But then again.
What could the man say? ¡°We all float down here?¡±
Before she could talk herself out of it, Yves stabbed the ¡®call¡¯ button and pressed her phone to her ear. It rang once, twice. Then politely informed her, ¡°We¡¯re sorry. The person you are trying to reach is unavai¡ª¡±
Just as she was about to dial again, a text notification from an unknown number lit up her screen.
Come on in! The water¡¯s fine :)
She whipped her head to the hole in the fountain, half-expecting someone¡ªpreferably, John Qui?ones and his camera crew¡ªto pop out and conduct a post-prank interview.
Instead, there was nothing. Just the odd stillness of the water that refused to drain and the silent, oppressive weight of a billion-dollar decision already made.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, poised to write a new message.
Something along the lines of, ¡°Doing an in-person reading. If you don¡¯t hear from me in the next two hours, call the cops.¡± But she hesitated for a long moment, gaze stuck on the recipient field.
Until she snapped out of it. Wait. The cops?
Scoffing, she stripped off the ornate scarves and elegant skirts she¡¯d layered over her jumpsuit¡ªsince when do I need backup? Sure, conning in real-time was at the very top of her no-no list, second only to meeting her marks in-person, and her frayed nerves reminded her of why.
Still, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, Yves locked her phone and tossed it onto her clothes pile¡ªshe¡¯d be damned if she let a case of the first-time jitters jinx her big break.
¡°Pull it together, Yves,¡± she muttered, but her voice wavered just enough to make her wince. She brought herself back to the base¡¯s edge, staring down into her reflection.
Yves grimaced as she dipped her feet in, only to yank them right back out. The water felt like a pool of saliva¡ªlukewarm and syrupy thick. The surface trembled on a delay, sending faint ripples long after she¡¯d moved.
¡°Alright, old man,¡± she called out, forcing steel into her voice. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± With a deep breath, she fully submerged her feet, pausing for good measure.
And for just a moment, everything seemed okay.
Then, the water came alive.
¡°Wait¡ª¡± The word barely escaped her lips before the water erupted in a powerful churn, tripping her up, and turning her every which way but loose.
She tried to scream, but the sound got caught in her throat as her head fell below the surface. She reached out for the base, desperate to find something¡ªanything¡ªto grab onto, but the water offered no purchase.
No. No!
The word echoed in her mind as the current tightened its grip, washing her closer and closer to the drain.
She opened her mouth again to yell, but only thick, burning water poured in, choking her. Her lungs screamed for air.
The light above shrank to a pinprick and the golden edges of the fountain¡¯s rim blended into it until they vanished completely.
Yves twisted and strained, her limbs thrashing uselessly against the pull. The roar of the water drowned out her terrified thoughts, replacing them with pure, mindless panic.
Her chest heaved, her vision blurred, and all at once, Yves felt herself slip entirely into the void.
And then¡ªsilence.
Absolute, deafening silence.
II. ...And F茅lix Viasma Won
And like a game bird on the first day of open season, Yves fell.
Through the rancid crawlspace of Casket Row, where muffled screams and frantic knocks hammered against unforgiving wood. Past the cries and giggles of the New Souls¡¯ Nursery, dodging rattles and pacifiers along the way.
And further still¡ªshe hacked up her lungs as she dropped through The Incinerator¡¯s smog, locked eyes with the blank faces plastered against The Waiting Room¡¯s windows, and felt her eyes drift closed, lulled to sleep by the haunting lullabies trickling out from A Better Place.
Down, down, down. Then down some more.
It was there, beneath it all, that Yves came to¡ªaching something vicious, covered in mud, and blinded by the light blooming above her.
Is this it? She brought a bruised arm up to block out the worst of the beam. It looked an awful lot like the ¡®bright white light¡¯ they¡¯d talked about in the movies.
But as her eyes adjusted, Yves realized that the light wasn¡¯t a single stream at all. It was hundreds¡ªno, thousands¡ªof little lights, zipping into formation against the dirt ceiling, humming like a swarm of stars running late for twilight.
A few strays dipped down, circling her like butterflies, pressing warm kisses into her skin. With each flicker of their tiny bodies on hers, every iota of tension drained from her body. Her racing thoughts muffled, that fighting instinct dulled. Acceptance took over.
And like a well-oiled machine, they coaxed her down, urging her deeper into the sludge below.
Well, if this is how I go¡ In spite of herself, a soft smile tugged at her lips. I guess it could¡¯ve been worse¡
She gazed dreamily up at the lights, watching through half-lidded eyes as they settled, spelling out a message:
Welcome to The Beginning of The End, my child.
F¨¦lix, was it?
Poor thing. You must be tired.
Aren¡¯t you ready to head home?
Her dazed mind didn¡¯t have time to process the words before a sharp burst of snaps rang out in the silence.
Yves glanced this way then that but ultimately shrugged the sound off, snuggling into the warmth spreading throughout her body instead.
But not a moment later, a cigarette-rough voice came from behind her, hissing, ¡°Hey!¡±
Twisting around, she spotted that pair of wild eyes floating off in the distance, pupils blown wide. ¡°What¡¯re you doing? Move!¡±
Huh?
In the time it took her to loll her head back around, the lights and their singing had already vanished, drowning the room in a black silence¡ save for the sound of bare feet making a quick exit.
It took a moment, but piece by piece, everything came back to her¡ªthe fountain, that geezer, her money. She hauled herself to her elbows, wincing through the pain. But before she could shout after F¨¦lix, a quiet rumble stirred up from behind the walls¡ªthreatening but distant. Creeping.
Like a warning.
One that Yves didn¡¯t need to hear twice.
Grimacing, she clambered to her feet and limped after F¨¦lix. She pulled herself one step, then two¡ before her foot landed on a ruthlessly jagged rock. A cry tore through her as a throbbing sensation spread across her sole.
She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth, but the damage was already done¡ªas if in response, that faint rumble grew into a deep growl. It boomed through the room, thrashing the walls with the sheer force of its soundwaves.
Adrenaline took the wheel, numbing Yves just enough for her to make a wobbly dart forward. But then, just as she thought she might outrun it, whatever it was, she ran face first into a solid dirt wall. Her vision spun as she fell, head smacking into the mud.
Yves didn¡¯t have time to recover before the lights flickered back on, their eerie glow filling the space once more.
But this time, their dance was slow. Deliberate.
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Their pure brilliance soured, some dimming to a dingy beige while others burned to a bloody red. Their cheerful hum flattened into a dull drone, a dark undercurrent of the roar still racking the room. This time, they spelled out:
The strays circled overhead with the targeted ferocity of a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. They swirled lower and lower, their heavy presence forcing Yves down into the mud again.
And all Yves could do was stare back in wide-eyed horror, limbs leaden, mind slurred under their flashing haze.
But just when the mud was starting to climb up the sides of her face, a pair of arms jutted into her vision.
Those panicked eyes loomed over her, darting between her submerging body and the descending swarm. Slippery hands, foreign sweat droplets, and expensive perfume overwhelmed her senses as F¨¦lix struggled to unearth her.
In the light flashes, she saw the man desperately mouthing something to her. One word, over and over again, each instance more insistent than the last. But for the life of her, she just couldn¡¯t make it out.
His thin arms trembled under her weight, breaths coming out in huffs. He yanked at her mud-caked shoulders. Tried to lift her by her feet. But to no avail.
In a last ditch effort, he laced his fingers between what was exposed of hers and pulled back with all his might. With a final grunt, he toppled backwards, wrenching her free.
Again, the lights and sounds died immediately.
¡°Christ,¡± he muttered, more to himself than Yves. He wiped the sweat from his brow and felt around in the mess until he found her limp arms. Grumbling to himself, F¨¦lix dragged her body through the mud, onto the dirt, and then down a tight corridor.
Once the two were tucked in the shadows beyond the lights¡¯ reach, Yves¡¯ body began to recalibrate. And her mind wasn¡¯t too far behind.
Each sensation crashed into her all at once¡ªF¨¦lix¡¯s clammy grip on her wrists; the back of her head thumping against tree roots, rocks, and every other kind of debris; the sinking feeling that she¡¯d bitten off more than she could chew.
Each piece of the puzzle sent a new surge of rage through her body¡ªa fresh reminder of whose fault it was that she¡¯d found herself in this upside-down hellscape in the first place. By the time he¡¯d stopped, leaving her squished like a sardine between a rock and a hard place, her lip was sore from being hitched up in a snarl for so long.
And she couldn¡¯t take it anymore.
In one fell swoop, Yves forced herself up and reached into the darkness, hands perfectly poised to wring his neck once she got hold of it. A tirade coated in venom gnawed at the backs of her teeth, but. At the sound of the man swallowing harshly, she faltered.
¡°Look.¡±
There was something about the gravelly command, either its urgency or the shaky exhale that followed it, that had her casting a worried glance into the blackness over her shoulder. ¡°Not literally, kid,¡± he sighed. ¡°Just, stop.¡±
And right on cue, a door swung open, jolting their little break in the wall with a resounding thud.
A mismatched duo of thunderous footsteps poured into the room. One set rushed off into the mud, blasting the air with splashes as heavy crashing waves. But the other set lingered, moving painfully slow just outside the entryway. Its boots beat craters into the ground, rattling Yves¡¯ ribcage with each step.
Boom¡ boom¡ boom.
Skrtch. A pivot.
Boom¡ boom¡ Sluck.
A pause, then a sound of pure disgust¡ª
Snick.
It was a sound Yves couldn¡¯t parse out.
Click. Click. Click.
There was a bit of fidgeting before a thin strip of light appeared, aimed down at the ground.
Silence. Then¡ Scratch.
Something sharp scraped against the cold dirt like nails on a chalkboard.
Then, a buttery coo came¡ª¡°No¡ no, no, no. Oh, no.¡±
A low, disbelieving chuckle trickled into their little hideaway. Each beat of laughter landed like a sucker punch to Yves¡¯ gut. ¡°F¨¦lix. Darling. I¡¯m sorry to laugh, but. This is beneath you, isn¡¯t it?¡±
The taunts had F¨¦lix inching back, moving carefully, but still making too much noise for Yves¡¯ liking. She leaned in, whispering, ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re¡ª?¡±
And suddenly, the mud sloshing stopped.
¡°Over here. Looks like our squatter¡¯s getting sloppy.¡±
The wet clomping picked up again, though more uncertain this time. Led by gentle instructions, the accomplice drew closer. ¡°That¡¯s it, I¡¯m this way¡ No, to your right¡ Careful, there¡¯s a rock to your left¡¡±
Whenever the voice spoke, F¨¦lix used the chance to slip further into the darkness. Yves gritted her teeth, whispering protests at every shuffle of his feet.
But as F¨¦lix¡¯s fragrance grew more and more faint and their second guests¡¯ footsteps came too close for comfort, anxiety kicked in.
She had no choice but to scramble off after F¨¦lix, mistiming her movements by just a fraction of a second each time. The sound of her knees coming down to the ground seemed amplified to her ear, drowning out the call-and-response happening just a stone¡¯s throw away.
Sooner than she would have hoped, Yves found herself at a dead end. She groped blindly around her, but found nothing but loose dirt crumbling between her fingers. The realization came like a punch to the gut¡ªshe was too late. He¡¯d left her.
Yves choked down the lump in her throat. ¡°Mister¡ª¡± Before she could say his name, he snatched her ear in an iron grip, dragging her off to safety.
Just in time, too.
The two settled into their new spot just as the room quieted again.
¡°Feel that?¡± Yves could hear the smirk in the velvety voice this time, just barely audible over the sound of leather snagging against a knife. ¡°I know the consistency¡¯s a little¡ runnier than you¡¯re used to. But you can guess what this is, right?¡±
The companion gasped as they connected the dots.
¡°Exactly. Not only did our little rat leave a trail of mud and blood for me to get all over my boots, no, no, no.¡± The insidious grate in the velvety voice sent shivers down Yves¡¯ spine. ¡°It led us right to its doorstep, too.¡±
The light turned in an instant, streaming down the tight corridor. With mechanical precision, it slunk across every square centimeter of the hall as ragged, anticipatory breaths bounced against the walls.
And all the while, Yves sat frozen, eyes set on the spot inches away from her, just outside of the beam¡¯s glare¡ªthe spot marked by the burgundy pool of blood, still flowing from her gushing sole.