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Bang, bang, bang.
“Open the door! Let me in!” he shrieks. The shrill causes goosebumps to erupt over the skin of my arms. “Let me in, please! No, no, no…” His voice breaks into full blood-curdling screeches that reverberate in the walls and ring in my ears.
Then silence arrives. An eerie quietness that drills into my bones and fills the place under the erratic sounds of panting and wheezing.
“Holy shit,” I murmur under my breath. “That was hardcore.”
No wonder the tickets were so hard to find, and some people were reselling them after the first few reviews. I understand the need for the waivers because this isn’t for the faint of heart. Hell, I doubt this is even for the strong ones. My thighs shake and thin drops of sweat gather at my hairline.
Wiping them with the sleeve of my jacket, I rub the back of a weeping Nancy.
“Oh, God. I want to leave already. This is too much.”
“Shh, it’s okay. They’re acting. This isn’t real,” Jen croons.
“Dude, I didn’t know Sean could scream like that,” Ty jokes. “He’s never going to live this down.”
I hope he doesn’t.
I’m petty. After he pranced around like a peacock, flaunting how we’d be safe with him, I’m glad he end up being the first one to be eliminated. Karma seems to be in my favor tonight.
“Someone find a light switch or cord,” I tell the rest, subtly reminding them we aren’t secure yet. Another actor might be hiding in the corner without us noticing.
Besides, in the dark, we’re vulnerable and easy targets.
Though it comes across as an order, I pat around to help too.
“Found it!” I recognize the voice as Steve’s.
The switch clicks and a red light glows to life.
Jen lets out a choked gasp, pointing at the sliver of space between the wood and the floor where a thick liquid spreads from the other side. The scarlet hue throws me off, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s blood.
Fakeblood, that is. The Slashed staff team seems committed to making this event extra realistic. This is money well spent. I don’t think I’ve ever visited a haunted attraction where they put so much attention to the details, to the point where it’s almost real.
They weren’t kidding when they said it’d be an immersive experience. I’m too deep into this.
“Good Lord,” Nance croaks out, hiding her face in the curve of Jen’s neck, who hugs her and hushes out comforting words. “Why did I agree to do this?”
“Dude, is that fucking blood?” Ty asks.
“Fuck, no.”
“It’s probably corn syrup mixed with food coloring,” I provide. Not that I’ve ever seen real blood in that amount, but I’ve dealt with my fair share of fake blood for SFX makeup on Halloween and some short films I’ve worked on in college. This looks strikingly similar. “We’ve used that formula to make some effects in film class.”
The hard bang of something hitting the door makes us all jump.
Is he planning to kick it open?
I get my response when the noise repeats.
I don’t know how much they’re paying him, but he’s earning every dollar from the check. He’s committed, I’ll give him that.
Spinning on my heels, I search for an alternative way out. But there aren’t any.
Bang.
I hope this is not one of those movie situations where the killer kicks it down within a minute, because we need more time to find a hint on how to get out of here.
