Chapter 11
“Okay. Let’s go through this plan again.
” Sitting at the picnic table near the front of Park Scream, I rest my shoulders on the table, shivering even in my hoodie.
As per usual with the Midwest, the weather can’t decide what it wants to be.
Tonight, it feels like winter is creeping up behind me, leaving me bundled up in a hoodie and leggings with my red sneakers that I could run from the zombie apocalypse in, if I so need.
Or, in this case, from a man with a wolf-skull mask, a knife, and a really talented mouth who absolutely might show up here at the carnival-inspired haunt.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly as I tap my knuckles on the table and try to remember my train of thought. It is so not the time to think about the man who’s been stalking me in any kind of positive way. But surely, I hope to myself, he’s done now. He scared me, sort of. A little.
Barely.
But if I can suck it up and maybe act like he succeeded, even though he very much did not, maybe he’ll lose interest and fade back into obscurity like I’m hoping he already has.
In retrospect, maybe I should’ve over-exaggerated my anxiety when I replied to his comment on my blog, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do so.
“The plan?” Madison prods, head in her hand. Like Brynn, she doesn’t really want to be here. But it was her idea to come with me to Park Scream, just in case he hasn’t lost interest and is prepared to escalate.
“The plan,” I agree. “Yes, okay. So this is sort of an extreme haunt. That’s why you guys have the chicken passes.
Don’t start,” I add, seeing the look of disdain on Brynn’s face as I shove lanyards with orange glow sticks attached towards them.
“There’s no shame in the chicken pass game.
Well…”—I tilt my head and smile sweetly—“Okay, there’s sort of some shame. But I won’t tell anyone or judge.”
“You better not,” Brynn mumbles, slipping the lanyard over her head. “We’re doing you a favor here. We could be literally anywhere else that would be much more fun.”
Guilt stabs through me, and I sit back on the edge of the picnic table seat, biting my lip. I do feel bad about this. While I love all things scary and Halloween, my two best friends do not. It’s a testament to their concern for my well-being that they’re willing to suffer through this with me.
“Have you thought about getting one of these too?” Madison puts her lanyard over her head.
“Just in case your stalker is here, he could use this park’s reputation to grab you and pull you away, or at the very least get close.
” The chicken lanyards mean that the two of them won’t be touched, or pulled, or grabbed, or separated by the actors, so I get her point.
“No, I can’t…” I sigh. “I mean, first of all, I’d hate doing that.
I really love the whole extreme part of the extreme haunt.
” Pressing my palms to the bench, I look around, taking a few moments to people watch.
Most of the guests I see are adults, though there are a few kids of questionable ages who are probably going to be scarred for life by the time this is over.
Park Scream is known for going all out, and given its reputation, its budget has only grown by leaps and bounds over the last few years.
What used to look like a hastily thrown together carnival now has all the grandeur of a horror circus, complete with tents, food trucks, bonfires, and lights strung through the entire field that encompasses the haunt and parking areas.
“Second of all, my followers are looking forward to my review about whether this place is worth it. I have to do the whole thing so I can write about it.”
“You don’t have to,” Brynn disagrees, but doesn’t argue further. I don’t push it either. I know she’s only worried about me and looking for ways to minimize any risks, but that’s something I’m not willing to compromise on.
“So the plan,” I go on, trying to get us back on track.
“We do the three haunts. We don’t do paintball—I hate paintball.
Then we leave, I buy you guys coffee, everyone goes home.
Simple, no muss, no fuss. Do you want pizza?
” I add, glancing at the nearby food truck parked in the middle of the concessions area.
“They have some local IPA at the beer stand, too. I know you guys are into that.” I’d rather eat pizza than dwell on my hasty plan.
The two of them trade looks, and Madison shrugs, finally nodding. “Yeah. We didn’t eat before we came,” she tells me. “And you know I’m a sucker for an IPA. Proud of you for knowing that, actually.”
“Look, I just regurgitate the words you say.” Brynn stands up as well, and I wave to them as they head to the food lines.
While I’m not hungry, I could probably force myself to choke down at least half a slice of pizza.
Or at least gnaw on the crust, at a minimum.
I haven’t really eaten all day, considering the way my stomach’s been in knots over this, and I don’t want to black out in any of the haunts here at Park Scream.
“You’re making a big deal over nothing, Persy,” I murmur to myself when they’re in line and not paying attention to me.
I hate when my best friends see me not doing so well, and I promise to only give myself a moment to bury my face in my hands, fingers tangled in my hair so I can scrape my nails against my scalp.
Absently, I comb through my hair until I can press against the knots in my neck that never seem to go away.
I should really invest in a massage. My own fingers do very little even as I rub circles against the tense muscles, though I wince from the dull pain and drop my hands with a sigh to the table again.
Even when I’m so freaked out, everything just seems so…normal. It’s hard not to be at least a little bit excited to be here. I’ve loved watching this haunt grow through the years. As of now, it stands out as one of the best in the Midwest and is visited by people from all over.
A hand slams down onto the table next to me, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I look up into the face of a scare actor, his skeletal makeup only slightly obscured by the blood on his face. He stares at me, eyes bright with the aid of ice blue contacts, and doesn’t speak.
“Hi friend,” I greet, tilting my head to the side and resting my chin on my palm.
“How are you doing? You want to hang around for pizza?” I’ve always been a talker and unable not to strike up a friendly conversation with actors in makeup, masks, or with fake weapons.
But he just stares at me, his gaze flicking from my hair to my face, then down to my hands.
He stands with a sigh, still just gazing at me, before making a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.
“You won’t make it through the night,” he tells me softly, in a near-whisper. Before I can come back with something, he adds in a low hiss, “Scaredy Cat.”
A tingle runs up my spine, but I only give him a reckless, almost hapless grin. “Oh, that’s very threatening of you,” I assure the man. “I’m terrified, actually. I—”
“You talk so much,” he sighs, and starts backing away with his eyes locked on mine.
I finally take the time to notice his costume; an ornate, almost gothic black suit with filigree and silver details under the skull makeup.
“Do yourself a favor tonight.” When I don’t respond, he goes on with an unfriendly smile. “Stay out of the Darkness.”
The warning to stay out of Park Scream’s scariest attraction only makes me smile flatly, and all traces of actual hesitance drip out of me. I know this act. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of just because a scare actor tells me to be.
This is their job after all.
Madison comes back first with plates of pizza layered in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
She gives the actor an unimpressed once-over before looking at me, her brows raised a little.
“Love me. They had white pizza; I know how much you love it.” She sets down the plates and hands me the top one, while I watch the actor walk away with a shake of his head.
“Creepy,” Brynn remarks as she sits down beside me. She watches the actor go with a shudder, and reaches out to take another plate that’s supporting a large, greasy slice of pepperoni pizza.
Truthfully, I’m not very hungry. My stomach is busy doing anxious, uncertain flips that have me feeling heavy and full.
Nothing about the pizza seems appetizing, but I force myself to take a few bites of the slightly underdone piece.
Madison and Brynn barely seem to notice.
They finish their slices along with their beer, barely needing five minutes to polish off the greasy food and alcohol while I barely manage to gnaw enough off of my pizza slice to say I gave it my best attempt.
But thankfully, neither of my best friends has anything unpleasant to say.
They, at least, know that I’m panicking, so by the time they’re ready and I'm no longer even pretending to eat anything, Madison sweeps our plates up into her hand over my weak protests, delivering them and the plastic glasses to the nearest trash can.
“I’m not unwell,” I grumble, catching up with her. “You don’t have to treat me like you just kicked my puppy into a pit of quicksand.” That garners a horrified reaction from Madison, while Brynn snickers.
“What order are we taking this in? Does it matter?” Brynn lifts the plastic pass on the lanyard around her neck that entitles us to one fast pass per haunt.
Even though I try to be clear I don’t expect or ask for special things from haunts I visit, Park Scream sent me three fast passes this year, like a silent invitation for me to come see them like I always do.