Cillian grabs my hand, walking toward the awful screeching sound coming from the moving seat as it begins to chug along the metal track.
“How the hell is this thing—” I begin, following Cillian into the slow-moving ride.
“Still working?” Paxton interrupts with pride. He shouts over the grinding metal, still messing with some of the controls. “Magic,” he jokes.
Cillian opens the bar, letting us into the seat. He slides in first before extending his hand out to guide me next to him.
Once seated, my eyes trail the bench, noticing that the hardened black plastic has a dimensional texture that gives the illusion of tufted upholstery. Continuing to study the seat, my gaze moves to the curved, high backing that extends well past the top of my head. Bronzed scroll designs line the perimeter of the seat with a small metal casket emblem centered in intricate detailing. In the middle of the casket is an upside-down cross with what appears to be an engraving beneath it.
My eyes try to focus in on the wording, when Cillian twists me toward him. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he blocks my view of the engraving.
His stoic demeanor dissipates as he drags the tip of his tongue piercing out before biting the corner of his bottom lip. Smiling, he rubs my shoulder. “Pax has been so excited to show you this. Well, we both have, but this was his idea. We couldn’t believe the condition this thing was in, all things considered. So, a little elbow grease and that massive, powered generator that was left here was all it took.”
A warm flutter pings at my heart with the thoughtfulness in their gesture. Even with all the stress of escaping the Reapers and the emotional toll that losing myabuelahas put on me, it means so much that they allowed time to slow down a bit so we could have a special moment, just the three of us, before the chaos of our lives reconvenes. Or before whatever weird shit lingering around us decides to start fucking with us again.
“I’m impressed. This is beautiful.”
“Only you would find a place like this beautiful,” he jokes, nudging me with his shoulder.
“What?” I chuckle before trying to sit upright under the weight of his arm stretched behind me. “Witnessing the resilience of a place that has survived with no one there to care for it, is beautiful.”
“I think you are confusing what is beautiful and what is haunted,” he teases.
Bringing my hand to the piece of thick, onyx hair that drapes in front of his eyes, I move it. “Just because something hasn’t been cared for in the way it should be, doesn’t mean there isn’t beauty there. I think the haunted ones are just as misunderstood as the living. Only difference is, they continue their fight to be heard on the other side.”
I rub the tip of my almond-shaped nail on the edge of his chiseled jaw, stroking it in admiration of the man beside me. He doesn’t respond to my little haunted spiel, but I’m used to that by now with him. Where Pax is vocal, Cil is more reserved with his words. Their opposing energies only make them that much more alluring to me. Because Pax can express to me things I wish Cillian would say, while Cillian’s presence gives me all the security I need to know that no matter what, everything will be ok.
Keeping his dark gaze on me, he shifts forward. “Hurry up, Pax!” he shouts. “And don’t forget the playlist,” Cillian adds, flashing me a grin before resting his lips against my neck, dragging his tongue upward before settling it to my ear. “To set the mood,” he whispers before a cocky grin spreads across his face.
Continuing forward on the track, the cranking sound increases. The ride is anything but smooth. With each inch forward we move, it feels bumpier.
Cillian extends his arm in front of me just as we jolt forward.
“Shit,” I hear Paxton exclaim.
I try peering over my shoulder, but the back of the seat is too high for me to see over.
Just as the ride is about to exit the loading area, I feel the car shift when he slips into the seat. Quickly, he pulls the safety bar down and over our laps.
“Everything ok?” I ask Pax, whose chest is rising at a rapid rate.
“Yea, I just wanted to make sure I had the music set up,” he beams.
Just then, the familiar theme to John Carpenter’s “Halloween” begins to play through the dusty speakers I now notice beneath the thick moss on the brick.My favorite movie.
Sandwiched between them—my favorite place to be—they extend their reach to each of my thighs, securing me into my seat even more.
The ride is dark, but not as dark as the tunnel we trekked through to get here. The dull light from the lanterns and strung bulbs Paxton connected to the generator gives enough visibility to the classic horror ambiance around us.
The Halloween theme fades, and an eerie silence fills the space before the next song plays. The only thing I can concentrate on in the absence of the music is how the track sounds like it is struggling to carry our combined weight.
The gears that grind beneath the ride grate at my ears until “Living Dead Girl” sears through the speakers, drowning out the unwelcome chatter coming from the track.
I begin to hum along with the Rob Zombie song when, not even thirty seconds in, the ride abruptly stops. The music continues to play while the lights flicker, before giving out altogether. Blackened air surrounds us, making it feel like we are transported back to the tunnel. Except, this somehow feels more claustrophobic.
“Fuck,” Cillian exclaims. “I knew this wouldn’t work.”
Pax sighs, trying to lift the safety bar, but it won’t budge. “Shit!” he shouts, trying to shake the bar that is locked in place.
