The Host's Judgement

14. The Abyss Triage Part 1

The acrylic under my boots let out a sharp crack, a dry vibration that climbed up my legs and lodged itself directly in my chest. The HAYES platform was giving way. Three bodies, mine, Diana’s, and Gabriel’s were too much sand for that plastic hourglass.

“Get off! You have to move!” I shouted, my voice hoarse as I tried to keep my balance with Gabriel’s body pressed against mine.

Gabriel’s platform, which had slid away, began returning to the central axis with a metallic creak.

“Gabriel, now! Your platform is coming back! Jump!” I ordered, giving the boy a firm shove on the shoulders.

Still trembling, Gabriel used the last bit of courage he had left. He leaped from my cracked platform back onto his own at the exact moment the two aligned. He fell chest-first onto the GABRIEL acrylic, clinging to the side ropes as if his life depended on it and it did.

Diana, realizing the HAYES platform would shatter at any second if we stayed together, used the ropes for support and launched herself onto the next empty, stable platform. The three of us ended up spread out, gasping, while my acrylic finally settled, held together by a single internal nylon thread.

With me, Marcus, Diana, and Gabriel safely on the other side, the digital panel above the chandelier flashed furiously, calling the remaining survivors still waiting on the marble platform. The final sorting of the bridge was about to begin for the ten who still waited.

1. Daniel (the former pilot)

HELENA’s name lit up on the panel.

She stepped forward to the edge of the marble. Cold and observant, the doctor did not rush. She adjusted her posture and scanned the transparent surface in front of her with her eyes, adjusting to the room’s lighting. That was when she noticed it an almost imperceptible spiderweb pattern reflecting the light in the center of the platform. Microfractures. That acrylic had been previously sabotaged and would not support the weight of a body.

A cold, almost invisible smile appeared on her lips. She slowly raised the small black metal box.

“I activate my privilege,” Elena’s voice echoed cleanly through the lobby. “I choose to switch places in the order with Daniel. He goes first.”

“What? You lab-coat viper!” Daniel roared, his face burning with rage and his fists clenched.

The man who had spent his life calculating milliseconds on tight curves had no choice under the Host’s rules.

The floor beneath his feet began to vibrate, forcing him forward. Confident in his reflexes and believing Elena was simply afraid, Daniel sprinted at high speed and launched himself into the void, trying to use inertia to his advantage.

But his calculation was wrong. The moment his heavy soles hit the weakened acrylic, the material did not merely crack it exploded.

A dry sound, like a gunshot, echoed through the lobby. The acrylic disintegrated into thousands of pieces, and Daniel’s cry of surprise was cut short by the violent impact against the concrete of the basement.

[ REMAINING: 9 ]

2. Daniela (the Real Estate Broker)

Daniel’s brutal death destroyed what little emotional control DANIELA had left. When her name flashed on the screen, she began to hyperventilate, her hands pulling at her own hair in despair.

“No, no, I have money! I can pay to get out!” she screamed at the hidden cameras in the ceiling.

The relentless thirty-second countdown began. Daniela was pushed by the mechanical retreat of the marble. Without any preparation or calculation, she ran in a disordered way and threw herself toward her platform.

She completely missed the center of gravity. Her feet slipped on the sweat-wet edge of the acrylic. Daniela managed to grab the side hemp rope with one hand, but panic paralyzed her muscles. She did not have the strength to pull herself up.

“Help me! Marcus! Lucas! Someone pull me up!” she begged, looking toward the edge. No one moved.

With a final choked scream, Daniela’s fingers gave way. She plummeted into the dark, her expensive coat billowing in the wind before the definitive impact below.

[ REMAINING: 8 ]