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We crammed into a narrow hallway next, single file, like chattel on the way to the slaughter. Tight turns and low lighting meant there were ample places for the actors to hide. Malcolm screamed more than once as an invisible panel slammed down and the actor lunged at him, dirty nails and bloody hands swiping at whatever they could reach. Even Taylor jumped a time or two as he turned a corner, running into some hideous creature waiting in the dark.
“What is that?” Taylor asked, stopping to poke a pile of sludge oozing out of one of the walls.
“Don’t touch it!” Malcolm snapped, right as Taylor leaned forward.
The black sludge sprayed out, coating Taylor’s entire face in a thick ooze. He screamed. Malcolm screamed. And I swear I heard an evil laugh rumble in the walls around us.
I shoved Malcolm forward into Taylor, herding the two of them to the end of the hallway.
We spilled out into one of those huge, spinning tunnels. Black and white stripes swirled around us in a dizzying pattern, a narrow glass walkway stretching across it.
“Oh my God, it reeks!” Taylor said, slumping against one of the non-moving walls. He wiped at his face frantically, flinging bits of goo off of his fingers and smearing the rest on his jeans before going in again.
“You wanted interactive,” I reminded him, trying to help scrape some of the crap off of his face. It smelled like the scarecrow out front. Like dirt and putrefaction. I shuddered to think what they’d used in the concoction.
“After this, can we please leave?” Malcolm asked, hugging the deranged stuffed rabbit to his chest like a little kid who just woke up from a nightmare.
“Yeah. I’m beat,” I agreed, hoping Taylor would be on board after getting sprayed with whatever the fuck that was.
“Ugh, fine by me,” Taylor said, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes one more time.
“Ok. Let’s get through this, then.” I took over as the leader, stepping out onto the narrow bridge. The swirling colors made my eyes hurt and I wobbled more than once, thrown off by the spinning around me. I finally closed my eyes and darted forward the rest of the way, waiting for my friends at the end. “Close your eyes and run,” I said. “It helps.”
Malcolm sprinted across the platform, Taylor hot on his heels.
We entered another narrow hall that didnotlook promising. Wooden slats covered the walls on either side of us. As soonas we walked in, frantic screaming erupted. People were packed in on both sides, their hands outstretched through the gaps, clawing at the air.
“Please! Help us!” a woman shrieked through her sobs.
“Let us out!” a man on the other side shouted.
There was no escaping the hands, no matter what you tried. They scratched and clawed at us as we ducked and bobbed, darting through the twisting hall as quickly as we could. The shouting and the sobbing grew louder, more desperate, chilling me like a cold sweat. I couldn’t hear myself think. I could barely breathe.
One man grabbed the back of my coat and hauled me against the wooden slats. Hands clutched at me from every angle, groping, clawing, tearing at my clothes. People screamed and pleaded, begging for help, for rescue, even as they clung to me, pinning me in place.
It was too much. Tooreal.
Forgetting my friends, forgetting everything, I ripped myself free and bolted.
I slammed through a door at the end of the hall and went flying. Sprawling in the center of a dimly lit room, I swore and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. Lifting my head, I got to my feet unsteadily and looked around, momentarily stunned by the near-silence after the deafening hallway.
I was in a room full of ornate, arched mirrors, all ringed in a circle. It looked like there might be different passages, shooting out in all directions like a wagon wheel, but that wasn’t possible. The funhouse wasn’t that big. Was it?
To make it even more disorienting, the very center of the room was turning in a slow circle, not enough to make you sick, like the spinning tunnel, but enough to play tricks with your eyes. Thankfully, the screaming had stopped, replaced with a soft, haunting piano music.
I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands, taking a moment in the relative peace to get a grip. I was tired, that was all. That’s why I’d freaked. This was, without a doubt, the best haunted house/carnival thing that I’d ever been to, but I had seriously underestimated how intense it would be. Sleep was all I needed. I could wake up the next morning and put this whole experience behind me.
Opening my eyes again, I looked behind me, trying to figure out where the door had been and why Malcolm and Taylor hadn’t joined me. Maybe they’d found a different way out of the hallway, like they had earlier in the mannequin room.
“Great,” I muttered to myself, already hearing Malcolm’s bitching.
Something shifted in one of the mirrors, over my shoulder.
I spun to face it, taking an instinctive step backward.
It was Bane.
Surprise and relief mingled together, although I couldn’t deny a twinge of apprehension creeping in. Fresh blood dripped from the tip of his machete as he stepped onto the moving floor, closing the distance between us, one measured step at a time.
