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There’s already a sizable crowd, so we get in line to wait our turn. A slight chill rests in the air, but the sun is shining and helps to chase most of it away. It’ll be much colder when the sun goes down. Need to make sure I’ve got something warm Ripley can put on when we go to Field of Screams.
“I heard this is one of the scariest haunted houses in the city,” Ripley tells me, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.
She huddles closer to me when a particularly chilly breeze floats by, ruffling her hair around her shoulders and her skirt around her ankles. I curl myself around her back to block her from most of the chill, resting my arms over her shoulders and wrapping them around her neck.
“You gonna be able to make it through the whole thing without asking for the chicken exit?” I tease her.
“Psh. Don’t doubt me, Alpha. I’m pumped for this. I bet it’s you that ends up scared out of your mind,” she says with a stubborn tilt of her jaw.
“Doubtful,” I say, though she might just be right.
I could be the one in there screaming. Fucking hope not, but if I am, I hope it at least makes her laugh.
They change the rooms up every year here, so nobody ever really knows what to expect based on reviews I read. Not that I read many, only enough to decide to bring Ripley here.
“I’ll protect you in there, Alpha,” she teases me back.
“More like I’ll protect you, Omega. I’ll be right behind you every step of the way,” I growl.
“Unless they separate us. I heard that’s happened before!”
I frown at that. Nobody told me anything about that, and I certainly don’t remember reading about it on the website when I was booking the tickets. That’s not okay with me. The thought of some hypothetical stranger in a dark warehouse wearing a mask and putting their hands on her makes me want to rip their hypothetical arms off and beat them to death with them. Hypothetically. Extreme? Maybe. Do I care? Not really.
“They better not separate us, Sweetheart. I’ll tear that whole place apart if I lose sight of you.” I grumble against the back of her head.
Ripley turns around and pats me on the chest placatingly. “Don’t worry, Alpha. Just hold on to me really tight.”
The line moves along at a snail’s pace, and we end up waiting for over an hour in line. The wait only makes the anticipation more tangible, and by the time we make it to the door, everyone is buzzing with nervous yet excited energy. We’re grouped together with four others, a beta couple and an alpha and beta couple that laugh and joke with each other, leading me to assume they’re all friends.
A man with a top hat and a full-on painted skeletal face stands at the door when we approach. He gives us a grim smile, black-painted eyes narrowed on the six of us as we stand before him.
“Good evening, ladies and ghouls. How unfortunate for you all to have graced this doorway! Within the thirteen rooms of the Hellgate, you’ll see unimaginable terror. Each room was designed by a madman to be more terrifying than the one prior to it. Please, be aware that the creatures that have gotten loose can and will touch you, but you cannot touch them. This is for your safety. If you don’t want them to touch you, I’d suggest telling them so. They may listen, but there are no guarantees. We will try to keep the maiming to a minimum, though some creatures have become rather ravenous after being locked away for so long, so I can’t promise anything. A forewarning, as you walk the halls, be prepared for flashing lights. Hope no one here has a fear of bugs or other creepy crawlies. Watch your step and may Nyx have mercy on you,” he says, his spiel eerie as he ushers us through the darkened doorway.
The two couples with us walk through the dark door first when it’s opened, leaving me to take up the rear with Ripley in front of me, my hands clasped tight to her generous hips.
Not sure how I feel about them being able to touch us. I may break some appendages if they lay a finger on my sweetheart and hurt her, accidentally or not. Or rip the offending appendages off one at a time. Whatever works.
It’s difficult to see with nothing but flickering lights as we walk down the first hallway. A scream rings out from up ahead, and Ripley jumps when someone dressed in a bloody mask steps out from behind a wall. A breathy laugh tumbles from between her plush lips as the giant just stands there and stares, turning their head sideways. We keep moving, following the other couples we came in with as the scare actor eerily watches.
Creepy music plays through hidden speakers, and screams echo around the vast warehouse as we make our way through the thirteen rooms.
The first room is set up like an abandoned psych ward. Peeling walls with dried fake blood sits as the backdrop. There are people strapped down to beds laughing maniacally, tugging at their restraints. Screaming ensues, while others look like they’re being shocked. Lights flicker in time with the shock therapy going on in one corner, and there’s a buzzing sound that is heard amongst the chaos. They’re behind a glass wall, and there are others that scream and slam themselves against the glass, making Ripley jump and laugh with every thump, thump, thump of their bodies against the glass.
We all make our way out of that room and head directly into a new one. I find this one more disturbing. There’s a deep, smoky fog coating the floor of the space that’s reminiscent of a butcher’s workshop, but instead of animals, there are realistic looking human bodies and remains being cut to pieces and put behind one of those big butcher windows. The glass is dirty with dried blood and grime, the contents a bloody mess of crimson. Entrails hang on hooks from the ceiling and blood coats every surface and instrument.
The Butcher is a massive man with a plain, dirty white mask that covers his entire face aside from cut-out holes big enough to see out of. He wears an oversized, blood-coated, white apron that is long enough to reach his shins. His dark eyes are unnerving as they follow everybody that walks through the room with a cleaver raised in his meaty paw.
“You should come and lie on my table, little girl. I’m hungry.” He growls menacingly, taking a step toward our group, eyes on Ripley.
The two beta women scream, hiding their faces in their companion’s chests. Ripley steps back closer to me but lets loose a nervous giggle as he stalks closer. I push her forward so we can move on before he can get any closer and glare at him to ward him off. He seems like one of the ones that would touch. Not on my fucking watch, he’s not. I smelled alpha beneath the sweat and other scents lingering in that room when he moved closer.
“Gods. He was creepy as hell,” Ripley laughs out, clinging to my hands at her hips.
“Getting a little scared now?” I ask in her ear as we continue along a dark hallway bathed in a red glow.
“Never,” she exclaims, tilting her head to narrow her eyes at me.
We continue on, our steps slightly more cautious now as we head for our next stop. Each room we enter, like the man at the front had said, gets worse. The psych ward and the butcher shop are nothing compared to the horror rooms that await us.
