“You’re the one who got lost,” I muttered, slowing my steps.
I took a long look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the demon who haunted my every waking moment, but all I saw were kids running around, parents trying to keep up, and teenagers who thought they were too cool to be here.
“Go!” Emory yelled. The others bolted into the maze, swallowed by the darkness. Thanks to Cal and his competitiveness, the corn maze turned into a race, and this was one competition I’d never win.
It was difficult to see anything, and I didn’t have a flashlight to help navigate the twists and turns. Was it really too much to ask that they put up lights?
A musky, earthy smell seeped from the ground, intensified by all the recent rain. Ears of corn and broken stalks lay discarded all over the compacted dirt. I took a third consecutive right and ended up in the same place I started.Fuck.I was never going to get out of here.
The maze had been the exact same for years, yet I still managed to get lost. Cal could probably do this thing blindfolded at this point.
Thankfully this wasn’t the kind of maze where people chased you with chainsaws.
The deep, rich green of the corn stalks at some point turned a brownish hue as my brisk walk turned into a frantic sprint. I was expecting to make a left but came to an abrupt halt in front of a wall of stalks. I was so turned around at this point; I couldn’t even tell which way I’d just come from. If I just kept going, I’d eventually find my way out. The strategy had worked year after year for me.
The path I had chosen eventually dumped me back onto the main trail. I must be getting close to the end because sounds of laughter and merriment drifted through the maze. I pressed on, continuing down a particularly dark corner where the moonlight barely reached. The temperature instantly dropped and a shiver ran down my spine. I whipped my head around but saw nothing, and as quickly as the cold came, it vanished.
The leaves and husks underfoot were shriveled and dead, crunching beneath my feet.
“Hello?” I yelled, hoping one of the others was close by.
Muffled footsteps sounded behind me, each one growing louder. Strong hands gripped my shoulders and a strangled wheeze escaped my lips as I crumpled to my knees. Cal’s laugh flooded my ears as he stood over my fallen form.
“What the hell? You asshole.” I tried to grab his ankles, but he easily escaped my grasp.
Eli and Emory burst around the corner, their expressions panicked when they saw Cal hunched over. It only took a second for them to realize the crazed sound coming from him was laughter.
“A little help here.” I extended my hand, and Emory yanked me to my feet.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to almost kill you.” Cal said, brushing the dirt off my back and picking at the dried leaves stuck in my hair.
“It’s fine; I’m used to it these days.”
“Where’s Kenna?” Emory asked, noting her absence.
“I haven’t seen her.” Eli’s brows scrunched together.
“I swear…if she won,” Cal huffed, already being a sore loser.
“You chose to scare the shit out of me, and that cost you the win.” I wagged a finger at him. “Sucks to suck.”
“You’re right, but it was totally worth it.” He threw his head back and laughed. But it was drowned out by a loud, piercing scream. It was followed by another, and then another that tore like wind through the maze. “Help! Help! We need help!” A male’s voice hollered, the commotion growing louder and louder.
Cal took off in a dead sprint, leading the way. The rest of us fell into place behind him, trying to keep up.
“Shit,” Cal cursed. Yanking Emory to his chest, he turned away from the sickening sight.
A bloody figure hung from the exit sign. Shirtless and limp, the body hung on full display for everyone to see.
“Wait, is that…” I squinted, trying to sharpen the blurry detail of the face.
The light from Eli’s phone illuminated the corpse.
“Oh fuck,” he said beside me.
Mr. Whitethorn’s lifeless body hung, crucified, to the exit post, the wordretributionwritten in bloody letters above his head.
I stood frozen, unable to look away. Blood…there was so much blood, everywhere. But his throat wasn’t slit like the others. His chest and torso had been stabbed repeatedly, to the point where the flesh began to peel from the body. His face had been so badly beaten it was barely recognizable.
