Chapter 14 #2
“They’ve added a new wing,” Ward said, pointing to the sign and script along the bottom: Now with Haunted House add-on!
The letters were painted like dripping blood, framed with hollow-eyed ghosts.
“But there’s an option to exit before continuing into that section.
It’s said to be too scary for the kids.”
“Oooh!” Bryony cooed, wriggling her shoulders. “Sign me up! You’ll have to protect me, Mr. Grimm.”
“And what about you, Miss Talbot?” Ward asked Luna. “If you’d rather not, we can always—”
“I like a good spook as much as anyone,” Luna declared, smiling brightly.
Just as if all her nerves on the fete wheel were long forgotten.
And still, she never glanced Nigel’s way.
Did she want to get rid of him? Was her curmudgeonly employer spoiling her day of fun?
It’s not as though she could truly relax, not if she felt under constant supervision.
“I think it’s time I was off—” Nigel began.
But Bryony grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “No, Mr. Grimm, I won’t hear of it! I would be far too scared to see the haunted house without you!”
“Yeah, don’t let a little ghostly effects put you off, old boy,” Ward added. “It’s all in good fun.”
Nigel’s hackles rose. Did the wardsman think he was afraid? He was just opening his mouth to offer a frigid comeback, when Luna’s dark eyes flicked to meet his at last. “You should come with us,” she said.
Just that. Nothing more. And she looked away again, somehow fixated on whatever was happening on the back of the head of the stranger standing in front of her.
But the work was done. Nigel would follow her to the ends of the world. Even if it meant watching her trip along arm-in-arm with Ward the whole way there.
The line to the Wacky House felt achingly slow.
Nigel faded in and out of the chit-chat, which the other three somehow managed to sustain in a constant stream, sharing stories of Wacky Houses of yore.
Because apparently this was a mutually-shared experience of childhood.
Nigel had no such stories in his past. Old Mister Grimm certainly couldn’t be bothered to take his boys to county fairs year after year, and Old Aunt Galatea hadn’t the nerves for such occasions.
Fabian may have snuck off on occasion, but he certainly never dragged an annoying younger brother in his wake, and Nigel hadn’t the gumption in his youth to make such forays on his own.
Based on what he’d seen thus far today, he could not imagine his younger self would have enjoyed this tormented assortment of amassed humanity, noise, smells, and chaos in any case.
They reached the entrance to the Wacky House.
Ward and Luna led the way inside, Nigel and Bryony trailing just behind.
Immediately Nigel’s senses were hit with manic music played over thaumatic speakers, all in trilling, downward spirals of sound designed to put the mind and body off-kilter.
It wasn’t just the music either—the floor beneath his feet kept tilting wildly, the floorboards on rocking pivots designed to make one stagger and stumble into the padded walls. It was like entering a madhouse.
“Whoopsie daisy, Mr. Grimm!” Bryony giggled as the two of them, linked at the elbows, hit one wall. Nigel found his companion pressed up against him in mounds of womanliness. “Best find your sea legs, or we’ll take a tumble together!”
Nigel pulled himself upright, straightened his tie, and took a few more firm steps.
He was just starting to believe he’d figured out the rhythm of the floor when a sudden storm of bubbles unleashed directly in his face.
Bryony shrieked with joy, Ward expelled a loud, “Hey now!” and Nigel heard Luna’s laughter somewhere through the tumult of his own pounding pulse.
They reached the end of the first passage at last only to be met with a revolving door. There was room enough only for one at a time, so Ward led the way, Luna following after. Nigel politely indicated for Bryony to precede him. “See you on the other side,” she said, and vanished.
Nigel half-wondered if he could make his escape back across the bubbles and tilting floorboards. But Ward’s insinuation of cowardice still rankled. Besides, Luna had asked him to come.
Curmudgeon.
He shook his head and plunged forward, caught in the swift rotation of the door.
It spat him out in a dark room punctuated with flashing lights in far too many colors.
No sign of Ward, Luna, or Bryony anywhere.
Did the door split them up on purpose? Nigel smoothed his hair with both hands and breathed out a little sigh of relief.
After all, if it split him and Bryony, presumably it split Ward and Luna as well.
Not that it was any of his business.
Bracing his shoulders, he ventured on.
There was a hall of trick mirrors (juvenile), a pit of glowing rubber balls to wade through (unsanitary), a floor made of trampolines (someone might break an ankle), streamers and glitter shot suddenly in the face (were they trying to blind their customers?), a three-story slide through rings of flashing light (could probably induce seizures), and a hallway that was one large, rotating barrel (how did the health-and-safety inspector sign off on this?).
By the time he came to the room where large rubber pendulums swung out of nowhere and knocked unwary souls into the padded walls, even Nigel could hear the curmudgeon running rampant in his thoughts.
“They ought to have guests sign a waiver at the door,” he muttered as he stopped a swinging pendulum with one arm and shoved it roughly back.
Somewhere up ahead, he heard both Luna and Bryony calling out and laughing.
Apparently they’d met up with each other somewhere along the way.
He grimaced, uncertain which was worse—navigating this hellhole on his own or with Bryony hanging on his arm.
But he didn’t hear Ward’s booming tones, so he picked up his feet a bit.
The passage abruptly opened into a little courtyard-like space. The girls were just tumbling out of a corridor set at a right angle to his, both laughing over whatever wackiness they’d just endured. Luna’s face was flushed in the artificial lights, and the white of her cherry dress glowed oddly.
“Ah! There you are, Grimmsy!” Bryony cried, waggling her fingers at him. “I thought we’d lost you. And where did your handsome wardsman get off to, Lunaloo?”
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Luna said, pushing a dark curl out of her face. She pointed to the entrance across from them, above which hung a sign which read ENTER. “Maybe that way?”
They progressed through more of that manic music, which Nigel suspected would haunt his nightmares for months to come.
At the end of the passage, they came to a small chamber, much of which was taken up with the massive bulk of Officer Ward.
So they hadn’t managed to escape him entirely after all. Damn.
“All right, ladies,” Ward said, “this is it. Everything from here on out is the Haunted House.” He swung a hand to indicate an EXIT sign. “Who wants to take the easy way out?”
“Not me,” declared Bryony boldly. “I know Mr. Grimm here will keep me safe from any bogeymen.”
“And you, Miss Talbot?” Ward inquired.
Luna shrugged. “I’ve never met a ghost that could frighten me.” Her grin was full of eagerness, caught up in the spirit of adventure. “Let’s do it!”
They turned to the short flight of steps, which led up to the Haunted House wing.
A rather ominous-looking door, complete with rusty metal fixtures and a skull-shaped knob, stood before them.
Just as Ward reached for the knob, a bloke in a ghoulish green mask stepped from the shadows.
“Oi!” a voice emerged through protruding plastic teeth.
“If you’s garn-to enter this ‘ere ‘aunted ‘ouse, it’s one-at-a-time on’y, d’ye ‘ear?”
It took Nigel a moment to comprehend what had been said. By then Ward had already turned to the ladies and asked, “Do you still want to go on?”
Bryony shuddered. “Thanks, no, but I’m out. I don’t do scares on my own. Where’s the fun in that? I’ll wait for you lot at the exit.”
Luna, however, smiled and lifted her pink stuffie. “I’m sure Unicornicus will keep me perfectly safe.”
“All right,” Ward said, taking charge as usual. “How about Mr. Grimm goes first, Miss Talbot next? I’ll take up the rear guard.”
Luna agreed. Nigel ventured no opinion. The only thing he wanted less than to spend another minute inside this sanitorium of silliness was for Ward to make another insinuating remark about his courage.
While he knew this was masculine frailty at its most rampantly immature, he stepped forward, nonetheless.
The goblin-masked man lifted a rubber-looking scythe to allow Nigel through, then dropped it behind him again, barring the others. Nigel took hold of the skull knob, pushed open the door (which creaked with exaggerated menace), and stepped on into whatever horrors of indignity awaited.
At first there was nothing but darkness and wafting curtains.
He pushed through these, and emerged into a chamber so bitterly cold, it took his breath away.
Spooky blue lights cast grotesque shadows on the walls, which formed faces of slow screams and widening jaws.
Layered voices spoke over the thaumatic radio speakers: “Abandon all hope!” the first intoned, followed by a whispered, “Beware! Beware! Bewaaaaaaare!” and a more spectral, “Walk ye not in the footsteps of the damned!” and so on and so forth. On a timed loop, no doubt.