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Becausethatisn’t more ominous than it has a right to be or anything. Nolan does scream, but Nic laughs nervously, holding tighter onto me as navigate around the well-dressed pilgrim still screaming her threats. Another pilgrim sits by the side of the trail in a pillory as well, this one looking a little more foam than wood, and rocks back and forth while she sobs.
“Don’t go,” she whispers, turning her gaze up to mine. “Don’t go. Gohome.” Somehow it’s scarier than the screaming, and I hurry forward, to a narrower section of the trail that leads us to what looks like the remains of a broken village in the cornfield itself.
Finally, after what feels like an hour but was probably closer to fifteen minutes, I stumble out of the maze, my muscles tight with fear, and suck in a deep breath. “Hooooly shit,” I murmur, thankful to leave the screaming behind. “Holyshit.” Somehow after chainsaws, jump scares, and an actor that had screamed right into my face that I’d regret this, the pilgrim on the ground has stuck with me the most.
“You guys good?” I ask, seeing how pale Nolan is as he holds onto Nic. “Do you want to go get hot chocolate?” I offer, while I could go again. My bones vibrate with adrenaline and I feel like climbing a mountain all of a sudden.
But Nolan gives the line at the hot cocoa stand one look and shakes his head. “Barn first,” he mumbles, straightening so he’s no longer plastered to Nic’s side. “Then hot cocoa. It’ll be our reward for not crying like little kids.”
“Speak for yourself,” Nic laughs, and gestures at me. “Did you see her? She kept cracking a smile. She wasn’t about tocry.”
“Sorry,” I admit with a shrug. “This is just my jam, okay? I love everything about Halloween, and I haven’t been scared like this in forever.” This is the fun kind of fear. The artificial, harmless shit that we all buy into for the season.
“Then by all means.” Nic gestures toward the barn and the small line outside of it. “Let’s continue with the fun. Afterward, though, we’re getting hot chocolate and food on the way home. Mexican food?” She looks between us as we fall into the small line.
“I could go for a quesadilla,” I agree, wishing we could go through the maze and the barn again or that we’d signed up for the hayride. Really, I’d forgotten how much I love this place, and the feeling of the cold air on my skin as we go through haunted experiences and past people doing their best to make us scream.
Does it say something about me that this is one of my ultimate ideas of having a good time?
Just before the people in front of us go inside the barn, I realize that Phoenix and Rory aren’t in front of us. Though, they could’ve already been through the barn. Or just not bought tickets. Still, the disappointment in my chest brings a small frown to my lips. But when I see that we’ll be very first in line for our group, that disappointment turns to anticipation.
An older man stands up from a stool beside the door, glancing behind us as he listens to someone on his walkie-talkie. “Aren’t you guys lucky?” he chuckles, smiling at the three of us. “First in lineandyou get your own turn.”
“Own turn?” I repeat, confused until I look behind us and realize he’s right. There’s no one behind us waiting for the barn. Instead, a large group is slowly coming out of the maze, one of the girls sobbing into her hand while her boyfriend pats her back awkwardly.
“Unless you want to wait for more people,” the man continues. “Doesn’t bother me either way.”
“I want to go in just us,” I say quickly, my eyes going to Nic’s and then Nolan’s. “If you two are okay with that.”
“More than okay, as long as you take the back,” Nolan supplies, wrapping an arm around Nic’s again. “I’ll just hold onto her for safety.”
“And you can hold my hand if you get scared,” Nic adds. “Or just if you want to hold my hand. It’s a pretty great hand.” She flashes a smile of thanks at the man as he lets us in the door, and this time, I can feel my heart in my throat as we’re plunged into an almost absolute darkness.
At least, until my eyes adjust. I stumble, realizing a second later that Nic and Nolan have already started moving down the corridor. Someone slams a door open to their right and screams, scaring both of them into a shout, and I snicker into my hand as I follow them, trying not to get too far behind and miss all of the scares.
Quickly it occurs to me that the barn ishuge.The maze twists and turns, taking us into different rooms all themed like parts of a slaughterhouse. Blood is spattered on the walls, and the actors are able to get close, nearly pulling us into separate spaces as they scream, threaten, or beg for help.
I don’t notice the growing distance between my friends and me until a man walks out of a side room, his heavy boots thundering on the concrete as he looks at me from behind a featureless mask and stares. His breathing is loud enough for me to hear it, and he holds his chainsaw in one hand, a hammer in the other, like neither of them weigh more than balloons. There’s an apron that shines with fake blood on his body, shining in the dim, red-tinted light.
“Oh,” I mutter, stopping. “I’m uh, with them. Not the group behind me,” I tell him, though I haven’t actually heard the group behind me except for a few moments ago, when it sounded like they were incredibly far away.
He doesn’t say anything. But he does lay the hammer against one wall and holds the chainsaw in both hands. As I watch, he revs it, coming closer to me as my heart flips, trying to burrow up my esophagus for escape.Shit.Seems that up close, I’m just as afraid as ever of a chainsaw coming toward me.
I can’t help my step back. Or the one after it as my hand goes out andsticksto the wall at my left, which draws a small sound of disgust from my throat. The man keeps coming, getting in my face for long enough that I’m sure my soul has left my body entirely and the rest of me is just waiting to expire from the earth.
“Go,” the man growls finally, as the chainsaw motor ebbs.
“Gone,” I whisper, trying not to sound terrified as I squeeze around him, my steps turning to a stumbling jog as he revs the chainsaw just as I pass.
I can’t see Nolan or Nic, but I try to walk at max speed, doing everything except actually breaking into a run as I head down the slaughterhouse hallway.
At the end, two doors sit open, which is incredibly unhelpful. I have no idea which way to go, and without an actor to menacingly point me in the right direction, it comes down to a guess.
Well, I guess if I get lost, someone will tell me that soon.
I take the right-hand door, following it down another poorly lit hallway until I see a cracked door at the end of it, where dim, red light pours out onto the cement from inside.
“Oh thank god,” I breathe, pushing open the door and trying to slow down. “I really thought I was lost.” Sure, I might be talking to the actors like they’re going to answer, but still—
