"Which way?"
"Over there."
Locke pointed toward the kitchen area—or rather, where it would be if the world wasn't upside down. "Through the kitchen. There are service elevators there; it's the fastest way to reach the lower levels."
Technically, they were heading up now. Since the ship had capsized, going toward the bottom of the hull meant climbing higher relative to the ocean surface.
Robert Ramsey looked at Locke's calm, unfazed expression. Even though he knew Locke shouldn't be judged by his age, he couldn't help but ask, "Locke, how do you know the layout so well?"
Locke gave a small smile but didn't answer.
Gwen, who was holding onto Locke's arm and had been protected so well she didn't have a single scratch, looked at Robert and explained, "Locke spent his first day on the ship memorizing the maps."
Robert was stunned. "He memorized them?"
Gwen nodded. "Locke uses a specific mnemonic technique—the 'Method of Loci'."
The Method of Loci, otherwise known as the Memory Palace.
"Let's move," Locke said, sensing eyes from the crowd drifting toward them. He didn't mind if people followed, but he was no saint; he wasn't going to beg anyone to save themselves.
He looked directly at Dylan. "Old rules. You scout the way in front."
Dylan shrugged, seemingly having no objection to the arrangement. He turned and began climbing toward the kitchen that now hung above their heads.
Gwen blinked, her curiosity piqued. "You and Dylan... it's more than just being gambling buddies, isn't it?"
"How so?"
"You and he have an incredible rapport. You don't even need to finish your sentences."
"...You know I'm from Texas, right?"
"Yeah." Gwen didn't see the logical connection between being from Texas and having a shorthand with a professional gambler.
Locke smiled, reaching out to pull Gwen up to the next ledge. "You've heard the legends of the 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre,' the 'Texas Forest Killer,' and the 'Texas Water Demon,' haven't you?"
Texas was a land of legends—a place where the folk were fierce and the air was thick with myths. It produced cowboys, but it was also the birthplace of many a slasher story. If the America really had an Area 51, it would definitely be in Texas.
Gwen blinked. Those three names were famous horror stories that had circulated throughout the America for decades.
"I don't follow."
"Let's just say Dylan and I once found ourselves in a situation that felt a lot like those stories," Locke said casually.
The truth was, it hadn't been casual at all. To avoid revealing his identity as a Peerless Assassin, Locke had suppressed his combat power and played a deadly game of hide-and-seek in the woods with Dylan against a group of deformed cannibals.
It was a survival game very similar to the one they were in now.
The outcome of that "game" was obvious, but they hadn't called the police afterward. At the time, Dylan had just realized Locke's real age and had been terrified of being charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor for taking him hunting and drinking.
Locke, on the other hand, had zero desire to visit a police station, even as a witness. He didn't want his fingerprints in any system—after all, should he leave real ones or fake ones? It was too much hassle.
Gwen watched Locke's nonchalant face. Even if he made it sound lighthearted, those were cannibals. She looked at him as he reached down to lift the young boy, Connor. She decided that if she ever got the chance, she wanted to read the "story of Locke" from start to finish.
...
Soon, the group of five adults and one child successfully reached the kitchen. Their current floor was the original ceiling—it was smooth, slippery, and covered in grease. The air was thick and foul.
*BOOM.*
A pocket of gas exploded nearby, causing little Connor to scream.
"Locke!" Dylan shouted from the elevator shaft. He was pulling at the closed doors with all his might, but they wouldn't budge. "Find a crowbar!"
Locke scanned the area, whispered a quick word to Gwen, and picked up a protruding iron rod. He walked over to Dylan, and together, they heaved until the elevator doors groaned open.
"Cough! Cough!" Dylan covered his nose. "That smell is horrendous."
Locke looked across the shaft at the opposite set of doors, then up at a half-open door above them. "Lucky this ship is new. Believe me, if this were an old rust-bucket, you'd rather die than climb this shaft."
*Clang!*
Robert Ramsey found a metal rack and jammed it across the shaft to create a bridge.
*BOOM!* Another explosion rocked the kitchen.
Gwen looked back nervously, then focused on Locke, who had stepped onto the metal rack to cross the gap.
"It won't open!" Locke grunted, shaking the opposite doors. He looked up at the half-open door above him. He squeezed his fists, then leaped.
Robert and Dylan's hearts skipped a beat as the boy Connor gasped. Locke caught the edge of the half-open door with a single hand.
With a display of raw strength, Locke hauled himself up with one arm. Once he had wrenched the doors fully open, he turned back to the group. "Come on up."
Robert and Dylan looked at the women and the child. Gwen nudged Maggie. "Let Connor go first."
Locke lay flat on the floor and reached down. "Kid first."
At a time like this, excessive politeness was just an invitation for the Grim Reaper to collect.
Connor looked at the drop below the rack. "Mom, I'm scared."
*Whoosh!*
Locke tossed down a length of rope he'd "found" in the utility room. "Tie it around his waist." Locke kept such things in his inventory at all times, making them appear "conveniently" when needed to avoid exposing his assassin skills)
Dylan caught the rope and tied it quickly. Connor stepped tremblingly onto the rack. He was moving too slowly. Locke didn't wait; he gripped the rope and hauled the boy up like a fisherman landing a catch.
Connor landed on the floor, looking dazed. Locke untied him. 'Was I too rough? Did I break him?'
Connor snapped out of it, eyes wide with excitement. "That was awesome! Can I do it again?"
Locke pointed to the wall. "There are emergency flashlights there. Don't waste time—find something to break the glass and bring them over."
Connor scurried off. 'At least he's not a brat,' Locke thought. He threw the rope back down. "Gwen!"
Another explosion echoed from the kitchen. Locke looked up at the elevator car hanging high in the shaft—it looked like it was losing its grip.
He caught Gwen's hand and "fished" her up. She untied the rope and immediately went to help Connor with the lights. Maggie was next, followed by Dylan and Robert.
Just as Locke pulled Dylan up, they heard a horrific screeching sound. The elevator car above them finally gave way. It tore down the shaft, sparks flying, and plummeted into the darkness below with a deafening crash.
"Shit!"
"Close the door!"
Locke and Dylan slammed the elevator doors shut just as a backdraft of flames surged up the shaft. The impact of the fire hit the doors with a heavy *thud*.
Dylan and Robert leaned against their knees, gasping for air. Locke, however, was already moving forward.
Robert looked at Dylan. "You and Locke...?"
He'd noticed their conversation at the gambling table, but this confirmed it. They weren't just acquaintances.
Dylan wiped sweat from his brow. "The first time I met Locke, he told me he was twenty-five. Guess how old he actually was?"
Robert thought for a second. "Fourteen?"
Dylan shook his head. "Fifteen. But in the Bellagio, not a single person realized he was a minor. Half the time, you completely forget how old he is."
Robert watched Locke's retreating back, steadying his breathing. "I suspect it's more complicated than that."
Dylan just smirked. What happened in the Texas woods stayed a secret. It wasn't a pleasant memory—if Locke hadn't arrived when he did, Dylan would have been turned into human sushi by those cannibals.
From up ahead, Locke's voice rang out. "Dylan, over here!"
Near the exit of the ballroom, several figures were visible through the smoke and flickering sparks.
A moment later, Cindy—with a gash on her forehead—saw Locke and Gwen. She almost burst into tears. "Gwen!"
And Robert Ramsey finally saw his daughter, Jennifer.
"Dad!"
"Thank God!"
***
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