The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,1

the second clue. They’d be devoured by zombies at the thirty-two-, maybe thirty-three-minute mark.

Just shy of half an hour, a warning alarm went off, and the door with the broken padlock and chain pushed open a little. Grotesque, gray, mutilated arms flailed through the widened opening, and the groaning and moaning commenced.

The bachelorette party switched gears from mad flirting to scream-shrieking, “Oh my God!” on repeat. They retreated back into the far corner away from the door, stumbling over the wussy tech sales guys as both parties ran as far away from the zombies as possible.

I shook the briefcase in my hand, hoping someone would hear the padlock and key clattering inside. Like a giant, adult rattle. Come and get it! Achtung! Did Russian people know German?

The room was divided by the zombie arm blockade: bachelorettes and sales guys on one side, and the exchange students and me on the other.

I rattled the briefcase one more time.

“Is that the attachment case?” one of the exchange students asked, pointing to my hand.

I nodded, and all three exchange students bolted toward me. The girl reached me first and flipped up the clasps. The thirty-minute alarm went off, and the zombies barreled into the room.

Too late.

There were eight zombies in all, and they split into two groups and moaned and groaned as they made their way to their human victims. At thirty-one minutes, the female exchange student was the last one standing, and she jumped on the table with the attaché case high above her head, wild-eyed and ready to use the case as a weapon. One of the crawling zombies behind her tapped her foot. Gotcha. Game over.

The clock froze at thirty-one minutes. The zombies exited the way they came in, and all of the overhead fluorescents flooded the room with intense light. It was the worst escape room effort I’d ever seen.

With eyes filled with disappointment, each of the Russians shook my hand and said they had a good time. “How many clues were there?” the girl asked.

I didn’t feel like sugarcoating. “Ten. You guys had a tough group to work with. But thanks so much for coming.” I had a pocket full of “Please review us on Yelp!” cards, but I only gave those to winners, people who would rave about this place. Winning groups usually came up with a system, like division of clues, or everyone solving problems together. Losers broke into factions immediately like, say, exchange students versus humping party animals.

Unfortunately for me, losers gave weak tips.

“Let’s go get some booze to celebrate our loss!” cheered one of the bros as he walked out with one of the bachelorette partiers, his hand sliding down the small of her back. The rest of the group shuffled out too, giggling and guffawing as they exited.

The bride patted my face and said, “You’re adorable! My fiancé is Korean too,” then stumbled out. I was surprised she could tell I was Korean. Usually people assumed I was Chinese. Sometimes Japanese. Even kids at school who’d known me forever thought I was Chinese.

“Can I come out now?” a muffled voice cried out from the closet on the far wall.

“Uh, sure? Everyone’s gone.”

The door creaked open. I backed away as a mutilated female zombie wearing a crumpled witch hat stumbled out.

Chapter Two

Nate

There were entrails hanging out where her belly button should’ve been.

“I was starting to get a little claustrophobic.” The girl blinked rapidly, adjusting her eyes to the flickering radiant lights. “I’m Kate, the new ‘spooky seasonal feature’ they added last week.” She took one quick look at my Feed Me (Braaaains)! T-shirt and tattered jeans, then focused her gaze on my face.

My eyes and ears tuned into her every move, my whole body on high alert. I was trapped in a room with a zombie girl. All the other zombies I’d worked with were dudes. “I’m Nate.” I shrugged, trying not to cringe at our cutesy rhyming names, not quite sure why I was shrugging in the first place.

Everything on my body that could possibly sweat did. Instant oil slicks involuntarily formed on my palms, feet, and