“What is it?”
“Remember the original venue we wanted but couldn’t getbecause it was all booked up? Guess who had a last-minute cancellation—the event coordinator wasn’t supposed to tell me but she let it slip that the bride and groom found out they were related, sooooo…”
“No way, you booked it?!” She didn’t remember. Wren was sure they’d talked about it, but she couldn’t recall. Pregnancy brain, surely. Or maybe this was exactly the kind of gap in their friendship Charlie was talking about.
“It’s been a little insane, OK, completely bananas, trying to switch everything over at the last minute, but YES! It’s like I always dreamed of. And I’m so excited you’re going to be there to help us celebrate at the aquarium.”
“Wow. How about that?” was all she could manage to say.
16
WrenArthur:Survive the World’s Scariest Haunted House
Arthur had half his handinside the jar marked with aW. Wren’s jar, full of all her hopes and dreams and greatest adventures yet to come.
It was so strange for her, watching him feel around in there. Those belonged to her! She felt incredibly apprehensive about what he might draw and how it might feel to watch him attempt something she had dreamed of for so many years. It was a little like the time he’d come out of the bathroom after a shower wearing her robe because all the towels were still in the wash. It felt wrong, but for some reason she couldn’t peel her eyes away.
“You can’t be serious,” Arthur said after removing a new slip and reading it to himself. “Survive the World’s Scariest Haunted House?”
“I remember that one!” she said. “I’d seen something on YouTube about this haunted house where the actors could grab you, throw you around, tie you up and put you in the trunk of a car, drive you across state lines. Basically do anything they wanted. You had to sign a waiver to get in.”
“And this is…something you wanted to do?”
“Back then. I’m a horror buff, remember?” Arthur was decidedly not. He’d never been willing to watch the bloody slashers and borderline torture-porn movies she got such a kick out of, outside the one time he thought it might be a good idea to try to impress her early in their relationship. The vision of him peeking out at the “safe” scenes from between his fingers probably had not exactly been a turn-on, and she never forced him to try again. But whatever. He never saw the appeal in an adrenaline rush of fear or visceral disgust. Without anyone to share her dark, twisted side with over the years, it had atrophied into nothing more than a passing interest. Watching trailers forSawmovies and reading the occasional Stephen King. “But the place turned out to be just a thinly veiled excuse for the owner to torture people and he went to prison.”
“Who could have possibly seen that coming?” Arthur replied. “So I guess this one is out.”
“Unless…” Wren trailed off.
“No, nounless. Can we please not? I’ll just pick something else.”
“You said you’d doanything. You said you’d be me. You promised.”
“But the place is closed! It’s not my fault I’m getting off on a technicality!”
She didn’t want to let him off that easy. And after just a little bit of googling, she was extremely pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to.
“I’m starting to think this isn’t a legally binding waiver,” Arthur said.
They’d driven ninety minutes to the middle of who knowsnowhere Maryland to attend opening night for Vicious Asylum, the only haunted house attraction that would be open this early in the season.
A large man dressed in a slaughtered pig mask had just handed Arthur a sheet of very official-looking paper to sign. Upon closer review, it was all part of the act. “I hereby certify that I am a very brave boy” and that the entertainment company would not be liable for any “willies, heebie-jeebies, or soiled underwear.” Arthur begrudgingly signed on the dotted line before the pig man violently ripped the pen out of his hands and roared a psychotic sort of wail directly in his face.
“How great is this?” Wren squealed, squeezing his arm with one hand. The other was cradling a very confused Ferdie, who’d come along for the ride as they waited in line with just a handful of other “victims,” as the signage called them.
“I really don’t get what you see in any of this,” Arthur said. He looked up at the haunted house itself, designed to look like an abandoned hospital or an insane asylum. Strobe lights and smoke machines were doing a lot of the heavy lifting here in creating the supposed atmosphere. A few prop cadavers, gory-looking scarecrows, and spooky skeletons were scattered around as well.
“Too scary for you?”
“No,” he said. “Just a little campy. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you. It’s not that I find horror frightening; I just find it gross and cheesy.”
“OK.” She laughed. “Keep that energy up. I saw some of the clips from inside and I think you’ll be changing your tune shortly.”
They reached the front of the line. This would be Wren’s last stop. In her condition, going into the attraction would betoo dangerous. Tripping hazards, jump scares. They couldn’t risk it. Surprisingly, she took the news well.
“Waiva’?” a bloody bride with a cleaver stuck in her head said, speaking in an old cockney accent for some reason. Arthur handed over the paper. “If you find y’ pissin’ yourself and want out, just say the safe word,” she said, fastening a red wristband on his outstretched arm.
“Which is?”
