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I was sure she wasn’t too far ahead. Not in this homemade indoor maze. I wasn’t worried—not really. This wasn’t a high-end production at a famous theme park with actors trained in the art of actual terror. Dakota was just around the next corner. Probably waiting to get back at me for all the teasing.
“Wildcard,” I called out again, this time with full-on amusement in my voice. “You’re not gonna scare me, you know that, right?”
Still no answer.
I rubbed the back of my neck, chuckling to myself. She was probably enjoying this, making me come after her. “Okay, so this is your plan, huh? Get me lost in low-budget haunted house purgatory?”
I started down another hallway, my steps slow and deliberate, my eyes scanning through the fog as the path twisted and turned. The walls felt a little narrower here, the lights dimmer. She couldn’t have gotten far. There was no way she was actually freaked out enough to bolt.
Was there?
The thought made me grin. “Dakota, if you’re trying to get me to chase you, you could’ve just asked.”
But as I continued walking, the hallway stretched on a little longer than I’d expected. The fog made everything hazy, and it was hard to tell if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
Still, no worry. Just mild confusion.
I rounded another corner, only to be met with an empty hallway, the lights flickering above. “Really? You’re gonna make me work for it?”
I chuckled to myself, but as I took a few more steps forward, something unexpected pierced the fog.
A scream.
And not just any scream—a bone-chilling, blood-curdling scream for help that sounded like it came from deep within the maze.
My heart leaped into my throat. “Dakota?”
The scream came again, more desperate this time, and I felt every nerve in my body go on high alert. Without thinking, I bolted toward the sound, my boots pounding against the floor as I darted through the fog-filled corridors. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios: Dakota, hurt, trapped, terrified. The cheesy haunted house suddenly didn’t feel so low-budget anymore.
“Dakota!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the maze.
Another scream, louder this time.
I sped up, my pulse pounding in my ears as I rounded the next corner, following the sound as it grew more frantic. “I’m coming! I’ve got you!” I called out, my voice more serious now, all traces of teasing gone.
Then, finally, I burst through the fog and stumbled into the source of the screams. But it wasn’t Dakota.
It was... Gertie?
There she was, frozen in terror, staring down one of the cheap, motion-activated skeletons with glowing red eyes. And she was screaming—literallyscreaming the word “help”—like a terrified woman.
I blinked in disbelief. Gertie, the freaking pygmy goat, was standing in the middle of the haunted house, making the most human-sounding scream I’d ever heard in my life.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, running a hand over my face as I tried to get my breathing under control.
Gertie let out another ear-piercing cry for help, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at the skeleton, completely petrified. I couldn’t help but laugh. There I was, running through this stupid broken-down school, actual icy fear coating the back of my neck, thinking Dakota was in trouble… and it was all for the pint-sized family goat.
I crouched down, approaching her slowly so I wouldn’t spook her even more. “Alright, alright, calm down. It’s just a plastic Halloween prop. Nothing to be afraid of.”
She let out a terrified wail, her little hooves rooted to the spot.
“Come on, Gertie, you’re embarrassing yourself,” I grumbled, reaching out and slipping an arm under her. She was small, but her legs flailed like she was trying to fight me off.
Her movements were completely futile considering the size of my hands relative to her entire body, and tucked her into my arms without incident. “Okay, girl, you’re safe with me, too, apparently. Let’s get you out of here before you give me another heart attack.”
With Gertie starting to relax in my arms, I trudged through the fog, my heart rate finally calming down as I realized how ridiculous this whole thing was. I thought I’d been rushing to Dakota’s rescue—whether from real or imagined danger, I hadn’t known—but now I was carrying a goat through a not-at-all-haunted schoolhouse.
Who am I, and what has this town done to me?
