Small red lights appear across the ceiling.
‘Look,’ I say, gripping at her shirt. ‘They must be the lights we follow.’
‘Easy for you to say.’
I follow Monique’s lead as she shuffles forward. The little red lights don’t offer much illumination, though there’s enough of a glow to see the outline of her body. She holds a hand out in front of her, and I hear when she finds a wall. The texture is rough and sounds like sandpaper. We use it as some form of bearing. Well … she does. I stay huddled behind her.
The path of dots above us veers left. I feel a little braver and release her shirt, moving to her right. She holds onto my arm as we take cautious, slow steps.
Suddenly, gusts of air blow into our faces and hands grab at my ankles. Screams are ripped from my throat while the cackles of witches and clowns echo around us. I stick to Monique’s side like glue, urging her forward, still using the wall and the red lights as a guide. I barely make it a step before my hair is toyed with.
Breathe … It’s all fake.
I grip Monz’s hand tightly. She jolts and rushes forward – her ankles are being grabbed too – and then she comes to an abrupt halt.
‘Oh, hell no.’ She urges me forward. ‘You go!’
My heart surges into my throat when I see, at the end of the hallway, a small girl facing the wall under a lone ceiling light. Her black hair cascades in front of her face, a stark contrast to her white dress and green skin.
A sheen of sweat cools my forehead, making goosebumps sprout across my skin. Giving up pretences, I grip Monique’shand, close my eyes and run blindly forward – I’d rather not see any of this. My pulse races and everything in my body is feeling warm. Monique’s screams pierce the air. Or maybe they’re mine. Hell, we’re both screaming.
I keep running, hearing the girl giggling behind us. I open my eyes and Monique and I take another turn into a large room that’s been made to look like the inside of a butcher’s freezer.
It takes a moment or two to get my bearings, and for the adrenaline to dissipate. I look up for the red lights – they’re gone. We need to navigate the room on our own. I try to think of a plan, but then the roars of chainsaws echo through the dark hallways, triggering my flight response. I let go of Monique and run with no plan at all – just pure, fear-driven adrenaline.
My shoulders are grabbed at, and occasionally I reach for the left wall, only to be touched there too. I stumble, and my legs feel like they’re ready to give up on me.
‘Jesus,’ I groan. ‘They don’t give us a break, do they?’
Monique doesn’t respond.
I squint through the darkness, trying to see her.
‘Monique?’ I extend a hand, only feeling cool air.
Shit.
My hand hits a wall in front of me and I pause. Left now? Or right?God, I should have stayed outside and braved being with Ryker.
I reassure myself that my assailants are just ordinary workers in masks and go left again. I use the bumpy wall as the red lights on the ceiling start to become few and far between. The pitch of chainsaws rises again, along with my pulse. Up ahead, echoes of muffled screams and the laughter of clowns make me shudder.
It’s always the damn clowns.
I think I hear Monique’s faint voice calling through the wall and then she’s there, grabbing my arm and rushing us through the hallways.
My fingers brush against the wall as she drags me down a series of turns, pulling with urgency. She must really hate it here.
My breaths turn to pants. ‘Hold on a minute.’ I struggle to get the words out.
She stops and I crash into her back.
Her large, hard back.
Ice blooms across my shoulders and up my neck. The chill rolls down my spine. The only sound comes from the overhead speakers mimicking shutters hitting a window in a storm.
I push at the stranger’s chest, backing away.It’s just an actor.
I shuffle backward blindly, my chest heaving. I keep my arms locked out in front to keep the person away. I strain to listen more closely, but can only hear the sound system. I squint through the darkness. Pure, cold darkness.
