The God Contest Regina

“Challenges make you discover things about yourself that you never really knew.”

Cicely Tyson

“Don’t let the door…” came Daniel’s frantic shout as the door slammed shut behind Bethany. “…close.”

Bethany looked back. The door was gone, replaced by a concrete block wall indistinguishable from the remaining walls of the small washroom.

“What… how is that possible?” asked Bethany, stunned. She ran her hands across the blocks, searching for a hidden switch or panel, but there was nothing. Her heart begin to race and her knees grew weak.

She looked up and spotted four winged eyes lodged into the upper corners of the room, staring down at them, and she remembered what this washroom now was. An arena.

She steeled herself. “You just watch me,” she said, staring intensly at the winged eyes. She pretended to brush some dust off her sleeve and hid her fear behind a mask of contemplation.

She could see the panic in Becka and Daniel's eyes. Becka was shaking, her gaze desperately scanning the room for an exit. The desperation of her search made Bethany wonder if Becka was claustrophobic. Daniel was holding her hand in a comforting grip to keep her calm while he struggled to contain his own fear.

Bethany scanned the room. The sinks and toilets were still there, but the garbage can had been removed. Every window and every crack in the concrete had been sealed. The vent in the roof was gone. There was no trace of natural light, and the only illumination came from a soft glow emanating from the winged eyes. The washroom was smaller than yesterday, as if the walls had been compressed. There was a coolness permeating through the bricks that made the hair on Bethany’s arm stand on end.

The only addition to the room was a small, round table in the exact center of the concrete floor. It was built from dark oak that was covered with knots and imperfections. There were three wine bottles standing upright on its surface. The bottles were opaque and their corks removed, as if someone had prepared them to be served. Each was a different color – green, yellow, and red.

Bethany approached the table, sidestepping as Becka broke free of Daniel's grip and ran to where the doorway once was.

“No!” Becka shouted, sounding more frantic by the moment, “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Daniel, get me out of here! Please,” Becka’s fingers searched wildly, clawing over every brick. She threw herself the stone wall, shoulder first, over and over, until Daniel rushed to her side and held her tight.

Bethany stayed focused on the table, inspecting the bottles from every angle and trying to get a hint of their purpose.

“Do you know what is going on?” Daniel asked, cradling Becka in his arms.

“Not really,” answered Bethany, reluctantly. “But the voice from the sky mentioned God Arenas. I think we have stumbled into one of them.”

As if on cue, a voice spoke from the ceiling and the room was illuminated in a bright light from the eye cameras. It was likey they were on stage and the curtain had just risen.

“Indeed it is. You are a smart one, Ms. Fox. Welcome players. Welcome to my arena!”

The voice was male and high pitched, with an excited tone that was subtly laced with hidden nervousness. He sounded like he were a salesman about to give the pitch of his life.

“Today, I am the envy of the Gods. Every god has designed and embedded their challenges across your city and the terrains beyond. Thousands upon thousands of God Arenas hidden in plain sight, ready to test those that find them. Yet I have the honor of being the first. The first amongst all the gods to ensnare a player in their arena. It could not have been more perfect.”

“Perfect for what? What is going on? Let us out of here! Please, let us out of here!” shouted Becka at the ceiling, her unrestrained panic coming through in every syllable.

“Becka, please. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Don’t let your claustrophobia beat you. Just lean on me. There you go.” Daniel’s hands rubbed across the small of Becka’s back, trying to calm her. Becka took a deep breath, and then another, but she still shook in Daniel’s arms.

“You want out?” continued the smug voice. “Then you must win my little challenge. If you do, not only shall I let you go, but I shall reward you. A little gift to aid you in the God Contest.”

“What do we need to do?” asked Bethany, resolutely.

“Oh, Ms. Fox, it is simple. On the table before you lay three bottles. The wines inside are identical in every way. They look, smell, and taste exactly the same. Except for one important difference. One of the wines is poisoned. One sip will kill any living thing. All you need to do…” the voice paused, as if to draw out the drama. “Is tell me which of three wines is poisoned. Each player gets a single guess, so choose wisely. Any player who correctly identifies the poisoned wine will be rewarded. Those who chose wrong… well, you will find that out soon enough.”

The voice bellowed out, as if he were a circus ringmaster.

‘And with this, the God Contest’s first arena begins! My fellow gods! Sit back, enjoy, and place your bets. Players, put on a happy face and smile for the cameras. You may begin!”

The voice stopped and the lights from the eye cameras dimmed.

Becka screamed, the last of her resolve shattered in the silence.

* * *

It took twenty minutes for Daniel to calm Becka, finally pulling her into the middle of the room beside the table and hugging her close. Bethany spent that time alternating between studying the bottles and cleaning the cuts on her face. She winced in pain as she worked on each one and her cloth became spotted with blood. She did not ask Daniel to help. He had his hands full.

“At least the cuts are not deep,” she whispered, staring at herself in the mirror. “I’ve had worse.” Her touch drifted to the dark bruise on her cheek. Even now, with everything going on, her father still haunted her thoughts.

She washed the cloth in the sink and hung it across the tap to dry. Returning to the bottles, she studied them for any clue that might reveal their true nature. She found nothing.

“I used to spend hours in the town library after school,” Bethany spoke aloud, trying to keep herself calm. “The librarian had this old stack of newspapers, and in every Wednesday edition there was a section called Riddles by Ron. I would spend hours combing through that pile, looking for those riddles to solve. I got pretty good at them too.”

Becka mumbled something that Bethany could not hear, though based on Daniel’s expression it was not very flattering. Bethany ignored her.

“We just need to think outside the box. It should not be that hard to figure out,” Bethany continued, doing her best to sound confident.

“We could find a fly, or a cockroach, or something, and dunk it in the bottle,” said Daniel, his voice echoing off the confining concrete walls. “If it dies, that’s the poisoned one.”

“That’s… actually really clever,” answered Bethany, impressed. She looked at Daniel's hands, steady as he stroked Becka's hair. “How are you so calm?”

“I’m trained for it,” answered Daniel simply. “Well, I mean, I’m not trained for this specific circumstance, obviously. This is insane. But I’m a paramedic. We deal with emergencies every single day.”

Becka shifted in his arms and he released her hand. “Becka, how are you feeling?” he asked gently.

Becka stood up as she took slow, deep breaths to keep herself calm. She was no longer shaking, but Bethany could see the fear still lying beneath her eyes, desperate to take over again.

“Let’s just find a fly, or whatever, and get out of here,” Becka answered sharply.

They split up, each taking a corner of the room and working their way around. They searched every inch of the building. They peered behind every pipe, lifted every toilet seat, and studied each beam running along the ceiling for movement. The dim light made the search difficult, and Becka had to stand on Daniel’s shoulders to search the highest nooks for any trace of life.

By the time they gave up, hours later, their stomachs were growling from hunger. Daniel and Becka collapsed into the far corner, huddled together. Other than the three of them, there was not a single trace of anything living in this room, and they were forced to give up on Daniel's idea.

Becka’s bravery had collapsed a half dozen times during their increasingly desperate search, though Bethany gave her credit for always pulling herself together. Daniel, on the other hand, was starting to show signs of the strain.

“I guess even the best of training has its limits,” Bethany murmered, taking a deep drink of water from the sink before sitting down on the ground and resting her back against the cool block wall. There was a foul scent in the washroom that had been building over the past hour. It was starting to itch Bethany’s nose, and Bethany felt her artificially confident exterior beginning to crumble away as she began imagining what it could be. They needed to escape this place.

Bethany stared at the three wine bottles, growing increasingly anxious. The Arena had no time limit. They could spend days, even weeks, trying to find the right solution to this simple puzzle.

“And we would slowly starve to death,” Bethany whispered. “Don’t fool yourself, Bethany. Time is not on your side.”

Three bottles. Three players. They had a way of identifying which was poisoned, but she tried to shake the thought away. There must be a way for them all to survive. There must be. Yet what choices remained?

“One of you could drink the wine,” said Becka from the corner, evidently on the same thought process as Bethany. “If you don’t die after two bottles, then the third bottle must be the poison. And we go free.”

“Becka…” started Daniel, shocked. “I don’t think…”

“No, no. You're right. There must be another way. Let’s just think some more. I’m sure you’ll come up with something brilliant,” Becka said, sarcastically, her words driven by barely contained terror. Except beneath her fear was a realistic, if horrible option. It was an obvious solution that they had feared to speak aloud. The notion filled Bethany’s mind with dark thoughts, and deep inside, Bethany was petrified that Becka may be right.

Bethany sat against the wall, head between her knees, trying to think of another option. Any other option.

“Red, yellow, and green. Green means go, meaning it is safe to drink? Red means stop, don’t drink? No, that’s not right” she muttered to herself. “Yellow would be meaningless in that case. At best it would just be a guess. The colors must be a red herring.”

Daniel and Becka were whispering in the corner, their voices growing harsh. Bethany tried to block out their bickering, but she heard a few words.

“I don’t want… love you, couldn’t stand if… we can’t.”

“No choice… just do it… it’s all we got… don’t want to lose you… she’s crazy.”

Becka’s words caused a chill to settle over Bethany, and she began to wonder how far Daniel and Becka would go as their desperation grew. Bethany clutched her hammer tightly.

She walked over to the closest sink, needing to clear her head. She would not be able to think of a way out with her thoughts clouded by suspicion. She splashed water on her face, then grabbed the cloth, still slightly stained with her blood from earlier.

She stared at the blood. She had an idea. A crazy and clever idea that filled her heart with hope.

Bethany swung her hammer at the centre of the mirror above the sink. She heard it crack. Daniel and Becka looked up, startled. She struck the mirror again, the impact reverberating up her arm. Her third strike shattered the mirror, and shards of glass fell into the sink and across the concrete floor.

“What are you doing?” shouted Becka, standing abruptly with fury in her eyes.

“Blood,” answered Bethany, setting her hammer down on the sink and picking up an easy-to-handle shard from the sink. “Daniel, can you tell when blood dies?”

“I…maybe,” Daniel answered, confused. “Blood contains cells, so it is ‘alive’ is a very broad sense.” Then he understood and got excited, “Yes! If we mix blood and wine together, the poisoned wine will cause the blood to turn sickly. It will look different from the other two. Bethany, that's brilliant!"

Bethany pricked the end of her finger with the shard of glass. She winced in pain and tears pooled in her eyes. She grabbed the largest piece of glass she could find and laid it on the table in front of the wine bottles. Letting the blood pool on her fingertip, she placed three drops on the glass, one for each bottle. When she had finished, she wrapped her finger in the cloth to stop the bleeding.

“You did wonderful, Bethany,” Daniel encouraged, grabbing the green wine bottle and carefully – very carefully – added a splash of wine to the first blood drop. He repeated with the yellow and red wine bottles, and Bethany and Daniel watched anxiously.

The minutes ticked by, and still they waited. Bethany found herself holding her breath, praying this would work. There was utter silence in the washroom, and she could feel her heart beating in her chest.

Ten minutes later, the blood had not changed. All three drops were indistinguishable from each other.

"It should have worked. Why didn’t it work?" protested Bethany. Her mind spun, trying to find an answer.

She heard Becka whisper. “Daniel, there is no other way. Let’s just do it.”

Daniel nodded reluctantly. His eyes flickered over to Bethany's hammer, resting on the sink.

A chill came over Bethany as Daniel whispered "I'm sorry, Bethany."