Chris woke up on a beach thinking, “Where am I?” then “Who am I?”
He scans the pale sand and moans, his head throbbing. Scattered across the sand are others who are just as confused. They all slowly stand up and examine the empty beach. Chris glances at his sunburnt torso and freezes. Carved into his stomach are the words, “Find me.”
He traces the words, cringing in pain. He glances down the beach and sees everyone has carvings. His gaze falls to the blue swim trunks around his waist. He reaches his hands into his pockets and pulls out a plastic card. “Beachroad Motel,” is printed on the white card.
Chris ponders where he is, as the other five victims approach him. A bell echoes and he stares at the dirt-covered smartwatch on his wrist. “Six strangers,” flashes across the screen. “Can you find me?”
A timer flashes on the screen and Chris’s face twists with confusion and fear. His gaze meets that of five strangers who share his worried look. “What is going on?” a tiny framed blonde in a blue bikini asks.
Chris shrugs, slowly. “Where are we?” she continues, but no one can answer her. “And who are we looking for?”
“I don’t know, but we have two hours to find out,” A tall, caramel light-skinned man with a deep voice replies.
“How do you suppose we do that?” she scoffs, putting her hand on her hip.
Chris hesitates then lifts the hotel room key in the air. “I know where we can start,” he states.
The blonde nods and approaches him. “Beachroad Motel,” she reads. “Where is that?”
Chris shrugs and she scoffs. “Well that works great!” she exclaims.
“We could go that road and ask,” a scrawny teenage boy asks, adjusting his glasses.
The boy points to the speeding van passing by. Chris nods and starts walking toward the road, the rest of the strangers, but one, follow. “You’re telling me, you idiots are just going to blindly follow this stupid watch?” a red-headed man with a southern accent hollers.
“What do you suggest?” the tiny blonde asks.
Chris spins around, agreeing with the absurdity of their actions. “Screw ‘em!” the man replies, taking off his watch.
The man waves the watch in the air then tosses it behind him. He spits into the sand then winks at the silent, black-haired model. She smiles until a loud bang followed by a whistle echoes by. The man falls to the ground, and blood pours from his head, staining the sand below. Everyone screams and panics. “Run!” Chris instructs, running toward the road.
Chris frantically attempts to flag down a car. The car slows, but speeds by. He tries again, but no one stops. “Hey!” the scrawny nerd says, pointing.
Chris follows the boy’s arm to a large white sign with bright red words. “That’s the motel right?” the boy asks, and the strangers glance at each other.
“Hurry!” the model screams, running toward the sign.
Chris hesitates, then follows the other four. The strangers rush down the asphalt road all barefoot. They run into the lobby and Chris heads to the front desk. “Can you tell me what room this belongs to?” he frantically asks, slamming the card onto the smooth, granite counter.
The Hispanic lady behind the counter stares frightened, her eyes slowly scanning Chris’s torso. Chris catches her glance and turns toward the other strangers for support. “We all took some acid, and painted each other, so we knew who was a friend,” the blonde blurts out.
Chris nods at her, then looks back to the receptionist. She nods and slides the card into her hand. She types a few words into the computer, then looks back to Chris. “Two-thirty,” she responds, slowly sliding the room key to him.
“Thanks,” he says, grabbing it.
The five strangers run down the hallway. The girls stop at the elevators, while Chris and the other two men look for the stairs. There is a ding and the girls walk into the elevator. “Are you coming?” the model calls, peaking out of the elevator.
“Yeah!” the scrawny kid replies, rushing to the elevator.
Chris and the masculine, older gentleman agree that’s a bad idea. Instead, they run up the stairs and somehow beat their counterparts. They wait by the elevator, and after five minutes, they realize something is wrong. “Are you guys in there?” Chris calls into the closed elevator door, while his teammate paces.
“Help! It’s stuck!” a girl’s voice squeals.
“We don’t have time,” Chris’s teammate informs him, pointing to his watch.
Chris looks at his watch and nods. The duo walks down the hallway as their timer strikes an hour and fifteen minutes left. “This doesn’t feel right,” Chris states, as they stand in the hall outside the room.
“I agree,” his teammate states. “What’s our plan?”
Chris stares at the numbers on the wall, as he twists the room key between his fingers. “I’ll open the door, but stay clear, just in case,” he instructs.
Chris hesitantly inserts the key then removes it. The light turns green and he shoves the door open. The duo duck against the wall, expecting something to happen. Both men jump as the door slams. They both look toward the door, untrusting. “Now what?” Chris asks.
“I guess, we go inside,” his teammate suggests.
Chris swallows the lump of fear in his throat then nods. He inserts the key again and slams open the door. Both men peak inside carefully. Neither sees a threat, so they inch through the doorway. They walk past the bathroom and a small kitchenette. Both are clean and contain no suspicious items. They inch their way toward the living room and stop when a ding echoes from their watches. “Congrats,” flash across their screens. “You found me.”
The men glance at each other, their eyes filled with terror. Another ding rings out and Chris’s eyes fall to his watch. “Now, can you survive me?” his watch asks.
Their timer appears and rapidly drops to fifteen minutes. A loud locking sound echoes from the hotel room door and Chris’s partner rushes to it. He looks at Chris in a panic and shakes his head. “What-”
“Search, quickly!” his partner exclaims, opening cabinets.
Chris rushes into the living room and freezes. “I found something!” he calls.
Chris approaches the table and stares at the six vials of matching liquids. Each vial has a single name on it. “That’s a trick,” his partner says, continuing to tear the room apart.
“How do-”
“Do you remember who you are?” his partner interrupts and Chris shakes his head. “Then search!”
The men tear the room apart. Blankets go flying, and pillows are torn to pieces. The couch is pulled apart and every cabinet is opened. With only three minutes left, the men caveen in front of the vials. “This has to be it,” Chris says, and his partner nods.
“I don’t think we are Sally or Brittany,” his partner says.
Chris nods and picks up one of the vials, he hands it to his partner. “Tyrone,” he reads and nods in agreeance.
His partner swigs the vial and Chris watches in anticipation. Thirty seconds pass and his partner stands there unphased. Chris turns back to the three vials, his heart pounding out of his chest. “One minute, man,” his partner says. “Do you remember anything?”
Chris shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He reaches for a vial, and slowly tips it back, allowing the liquid to pour into his mouth. He forces himself to swallow the tasteless liquid then waits. The time runs out, and a ding rings through the room. Suddenly, Chris starts to feel faint. His eyes start to close, and he stumbles backward. He knocks over the table, spilling the other four vials before he collapses onto the ground. The room goes dark, and he passes out. “Round Complete,” his watch dings, as he lays there motionless.