This was over. Now.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that he was dangerously close to the pit. But before he could move out of the way, I tackled him, hoping to knock him right over the edge.

Daniel kept his footing, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked. Then he drove his other fist into my throat. I tried to gasp for air, but I couldn’t breathe, and I felt Daniel spinning us, moving me closest to the pit.

I could feel my bare feet start to slip. I still couldn’t breathe. Daniel threw another punch at my throat, but I blocked it, grabbed hold of his wrist, and squeezed tightly, trying to dig my fingernails into his skin.

My heels slipped over the side of the pit.

I continued to struggle in vain for oxygen. My left foot dangled in mid-air.

Then, using every last bit of strength I possessed, I forced Daniel’s wrist up into the air as high as I could. Right into one of the twirling corkscrews on the wrecking ball.

Before he could even finish his scream, I pushed myself out of the way, and then slammed my elbow into his back.

Daniel pitched forward and fell into the pit, landing face-first in the mud.

He got up and trudged through the mud, screaming in fury. I was able to suck in the faintest breath as I staggered toward the crane.

Daniel put his hands on the edge of the pit and began to pull himself out.

I pulled down the second lever on the crane.

The wrecking ball began to lower.

“You son of a bitch!” Daniel shrieked, frantically trying to climb out in time. But the wrecking ball lowered quickly, and within seconds Daniel had to pull away to avoid it.

“You’re dead!” he screamed. “You’ll never get out of here! Never!”

And then the wrecking ball hid him from sight.

I walked away quickly, not wanting to hear the gruesome sound as Daniel Rankin met his doom.

Epilogue

IT TOOK about fifteen minutes of very annoying calling back and forth to guide both Roger and Charlotte to the exit of the maze. Josie had been fibbing about killing them, but I think she learned her lesson.

It didn’t take long to find an exit to the warehouse, though it did involve crawling up a spooky dark tunnel with some sort of unidentified insect life present, as well as a possible shrew or two. At the end we emerged from a trapdoor into the garage.

“Let me have your card key,” said Roger. “I’m going to check on the prisoners.”

“I’ll see if I can find a phone,” Charlotte offered.

“I’m just going to sit here for a few days,” I said, handing Roger my pass card, and then grabbing a lawn chair from the corner and unfolding it. “Bring me food and water every once in a while, will you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll round up some medical supplies too,” said Roger. “Sit there and be a good boy until I get back.”

“Does comatose count as good?”

Roger and Charlotte left. I sat down on the chair, closed my eyes, and remembered my vow to never, ever leave the house again if I got out of this. That sounded good. I’d swipe some of Daniel’s furniture, sell it, buy myself a state of the art computer, take some lessons, and telecommute for the rest of my life. When Kyle was old enough to drive we’d send him out for groceries, but until then we’d survive on pizza delivery. Pudgy Pierre had twenty different toppings, so we’d have all the variety we needed. Ah, yes, life would be good.

A wooden plank struck me on the back of the head, knocking me out of the chair.

“You think I’m gonna die in my own trap?” demanded a mud-covered, bloodied Daniel, kicking the chair out of the way. “I’ve got escape routes all over this place!”

I gripped the bottom of the tool bench and slowly pulled myself up. Daniel chuckled without humor, and then wedged the plank under the doorknob so that nobody could get inside. He waved his hands around like a magician, and then did a not-very-good job of making a hunting knife with an eight-inch blade “appear” from his sleeve. “Think you’ll be able to see inside your stomach after I feed you your eyes?”

The only weapon within reach was a small screwdriver on the table. I grabbed it, though with my double vision it took two tries to actually touch it. Daniel picked up a tin of lighter fluid and squirted it at me, hitting my chest. “Too bad I don’t have a match,” he said, altering the angle.

The lighter fluid hit my eyes. The burning sensation was incredible. I consciously knew that rubbing my eyes was the worst thing I could do, but I couldn’t stop myself. When I finally forced myself to pull my hands away, I was blind.

I grabbed the tool bench to steady myself. “What’s the matter? Something in your eye?” Daniel asked. I could tell that he was walking toward me, and I could make out a faint figure, but I certainly wasn’t going to be able to defend myself with any skill.

I threw the screwdriver at him. Daniel snorted a laugh. “Oh, give it up. This one’s for Josie.”

I couldn’t see it, but I could hear something swishing toward my face. I threw my hand up to defend myself.

The burning in my eyes was forgotten as the knife tore through my palm, burying itself all the way to the hilt.

Believe me, I made some noise. I could see the blurred tip of the knife protruding through the back of my hand, coming close enough to my eye to scrape the lashes.

I was blind, I was in excruciating pain, and I had a psychopath right in front of me.

But now I had a weapon.

I twisted my hand around, forced my fingers to wrap around the handle of the knife, and slammed it forward.

It definitely hit something.

Ignoring the pure agony, I pulled the knife free and slammed it forward again.

Daniel made a faint gasping sound.

With the third hit, he slid off the blade and fell to the floor.

I STOOD with my head in the sink, warm water rushing over me as Charlotte held my eyes open. Just getting to the door to the mansion had been a struggle, but I’d made it, got the plank out of the way, and called for help right before I passed out.

“How’s it feel?”

I pulled my head out of the stream and blinked a few times. “Better.”

“Can you see?”

“Not perfectly, but yeah. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.”

The rest of the prisoners were free. After a few tries, Roger had figured out that only one cell door would ever open at a time, so he had to close the last one before setting the next prisoner free. The former prisoners were currently raiding the kitchen. I planned to join them very soon. After a hot shower.

It had taken a while, but finally somebody had located a cell phone. A helicopter was seeking out the location of the mansion at this very moment. Personally, I would’ve liked to see them bring a battering ram or some dynamite to wipe out the front gate, but I suspected that they were going to try to get over it rather than destroy it. Oh well.

“Your turn,” said Roger, entering the bathroom and holding the cell phone out to me.

I thanked him and called Helen.

“SO WHO saved who in this situation?” asked Roger, taking a gulp of root beer while we sat on the couch, watching a bad situation comedy on the wide screen TV.

“I saved you,” I said.

“I don’t think so. You would’ve definitely died behind that big cube thing if I hadn’t shown up.”

“And you would’ve participated in one of their games if I hadn’t been working to get you free. I don’t even want to know what special events I missed.”

“Okay, point taken, but let’s think back and consider how much danger I would have been in if you hadn’t dragged me into this whole thing to begin with. Hmmmm…how about, none?”

“You’re wrong. I saved you from a couple days of attacks by Reverse Snowflake,” I pointed out.