Dante blinks his eyelids repeatedly, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“It’s the game…”, he mumbles so quietly that I can barely hear him.

I bite my bottom lip, feeling the gears start working into my head.

“I guess we need to understand what it means…”, Carmen mutters, pinching her own chin distractedly, “…We need to… to decipher it”.

Dante is wordless and concentrated. My eyes are transfixed on that brief sentence.
And then, abruptly, something catches my attention.

“Anted…”, I whisper.

Dante looks up at me, his face tensed and serious.

“That’s your name”, I say, staring at him.

“That’s your name”, I repeat, tapping my finger on the first word on the page.

He clenches his jaw and scratches his thick goatee.

“You’re right…”, he considers slowly, spinning the page back to his own direction. His eyes scan the document, rapidly, frantically.

“…It’s our team…”, he mumbles.

"What?".

Carmen gets up and moves behind his shoulders, leaning forward the page and frowning.

Her eyes widen in an unexpected, almost immediate realization.

“Shane is right!”, she exclaims, pointing at the words.

“Look at this… Anted is the anagram for Dante, you… ashen is clearly Shane…I, sawmill is Williams… Tasha Williams, and…”.

I get up abruptly from my chair and join Carmen and Dante, my narrowed eyes focused on the paper.

“…Sole arm…”, I murmur, “…is Morales. Carmen, it’s you…”.

Her eyes dart in my direction for a quick glance of consternate understanding.

“A – lice…”, she mumbles, "…That’s easy…".

“…Report…”, Dante says, “…is Bette. Bette Porter”.

I swallow hard.

“What’s ‘harms all’?”, I ask feebly.

Dante places the paper back on the table. He closes his eyes for a short instant.

“It’s Marshall”, he states, simply.

Carmen and I stand straight, looking at each other.
Dante’s shoulders slump as he exhales another long sigh and clenches his jaw.

“Shane, Carmen, Bette, Tasha, Alice, Marshall and…”, he murmurs.

“…And you”, Carmen concludes at his place, and he nods his head.

“That’s the team. All the people involved in Sanders’ accident are listed on this fucking paper”.

“What does it mean?”, I ask, scared to hear his answer.

“It means that somebody knows exactly who we are and where we were one year ago. and he wants to play with us”.

Carmen grabs my hand. I hold it tight, not knowing what to say.

TBC