Petrol Wonderland

Ten | The Sandwich

"Now, the game is very simple," said the Hatter, pacing back and forth. "One of these two items is poisoned. It's a deadly nerve agent which will make you go all jumpy and then you'll die of asphyxiation. It's not the fastest but it's not too painfully slow either, so don't worry. Nobody knows which one has the poison mixed it. Except for me, of course. It's a surprise! Anyway, you get one chance to swap. Then, you have to consume your chosen item. No mind-changes. Are we ready to play?"

Nobody moved.

"Oh, come on. No need to pull those faces. It will be fun!"

Silence.

"Well go on then! Can't you read it? My handwriting is a little messy but it says eat me' on the sandwich and the other one says 'drink me'."

He grinned expectantly.

"Go on. Go on!"

"Why are you doing this?" asked Blake, meekly. She shifted beneath her makeshift ropes and burrowed her way into them as if they were a safety blanket.

The man seemed taken aback, as if seeing the fear written across the young girl's face had somehow wounded him internally. "Doing what?" he asked, laying a hand innocently across his chest.

"Don't play stupid," hissed Cleo.

He shot her a glare. "Just eat the fucking sandwich, bitch."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll shoot you in the head."

She swallowed. Well, that was that, then. Death or possible death. Those were her only options.

The two coworkers shared a frightened look and, much to Cleo's frustration, Blake caved in. She wormed out a tentative hand and picked up the bottle before her. Meanwhile, Cleo's own mind was flopping back and forth between ideas like a beached fish and her heart rattled and her throat closed up. Death or possible death? Would he really shoot her if she didn't do this? What if they both refused, would he shoot them both?... Probably. This man had a screw or seven loose for sure. Resentfully, she picked up the sad-looking sandwich before it and began to slowly unwrap it, silently howling at the idea of having to obey such a command.

Slowly. All she had to do was stall enough for the police to arrive. Just a few more minutes.

As the final crumpled layer of clingfilm drifted onto the desk below, Cleo called out, "Wait."

The sudden weight of every eyeball in the room was almost too heavy to bear, but the adrenaline pile building up within her was enough to push her on with the plan. She turned to Blake.

"Wait... If I do eat the poison and die... there's something I want to say first."

A subtle emotion flickered across Blake's sweat-glazed face, almost too quick to catch. A narrow recognition. She lowered the bottle slightly and offered the brunette a stingy nod.

However, luckily, The Hatter didn't seem privy to their little exchange. Instead, he touched a finger to his chin and his face erupted into a sly expression of amusement. "Very interesting," he said, as though he were a crazed scientist observing the behavior of ants. "Go on. Pray tell."

"I..." Cleo's chin dropped to the tiles and she faltered for a moment. If she didn't hurry, this might all be over soon. She wasn't certain how intelligent the man was but if she said the wrong thing even someone with half a brain would pick up on her true intention of wasting time. Her tongue fumbled about her mouth for a moment, searching for the right words.

She huffed and the sound echoed dully through the stiff atmosphere. Coming up with a lie on the spot was too difficult. She'd have to speak the truth-