40. Chapter 40
Milo
The corn maze entrance rises before us in a broad timber arch, its beams swaddled in fake cobwebs that lift and settle whenever the wind moves through them.
Orange bulbs loop across the top, their glow catching on a hand-painted sign that reads brINDLEWOOD HAUNTED MAZE: ENTER IF YOU DARE in letters streaked with enough stage blood to suggest the painter lost enthusiasm halfway through.
A plastic skeleton slouches against the left post, one bony arm dangling into the path.
Its jaw has come loose and hangs sideways, giving it less the appearance of the dead and more the expression of someone trapped in a meeting that should have ended an hour ago.
I’m immediately sold.
“No,” Evie says flatly.
“I haven’t said a word,” Maddie protests.
“You turned toward it. That’s enough.”
“We’re doing the maze, Evie.”
I’m trying to stay out of this, but it looks genuinely wonderful.
Fog curls between the corn rows in dense white ribbons, spilling over the path and gathering around our ankles before thinning across the field.
Somewhere inside, a scream rises above the rustle of stalks, only to fracture into breathless laughter as several people come stumbling through a gap farther down. I grin before I can stop myself.
A bored teenager stands near the entrance, half-heartedly directing traffic. Fake blood has dried across one cheek, and the sleeve of his torn flannel hangs by a few stubborn threads. Behind him, the corn shifts again. A pale mask flashes between the rows and vanishes.
“Milo wants to go,” Maddie says.
“Milo hasn’t said anything.”
“He doesn’t have to. Look at his face.”
They both turn to me.
“It looks fun,” I admit.
Evie narrows her eyes at me. “You want to go into the murder corn?”
“He’s desperate to go in.” Maddie grins.
Evie turns back to the entrance and considers it.
“If I do this,” she says slowly, “you both stay within arm’s reach the entire time.”
“Deal.” Maddie nods immediately. “We go in, we walk through, we come out. If it’s terrible, we leave early, and I buy you those cinnamon almonds you pretend you don’t want but eat half the bag of anyway.”
“The second I want out, we leave. No arguing.”
“Agreed.”
Evie catches my sleeve before I can move. “You promise you’ll stay close?”
“I’ll stay closer than close. I’ve already mapped the exits. If anything happens, I know the fastest route to each one.”
“You did what?” She blinks.
“I looked at the festival map and safety plans this morning. You had them lying around the breakfast table, and it was an interesting read.”
Maddie laughs. “You’re so weird. I love it!”
Evie’s grip on my sleeve loosens, and she nods once. “Fine. But I’m holding your hand, and if something jumps out, you’re my human shield.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
The maze starts easy, almost boring, to be honest. Corn walls rise on either side of the narrow path, their dry leaves whispering against one another overhead while pockets of red light smolder between the stalks.
The bulbs sit so far apart that darkness keeps swallowing the trail ahead, then releasing it again a few yards at a time.
Evie walks between Maddie and me with her arms folded tightly across her chest. A kid in a rubber werewolf mask launches from behind a hay bale, and Evie and Maddie shriek loud enough to rattle the stalks.
The kid breaks character, doubling over. “Got you!”
Evie’s hand clamps around my wrist.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine.”
“You’re cutting off my circulation.”
She looks down at her hand, but doesn’t let go. “Sorry.”
The second scare is better. A trapdoor slams open, and a girl in a tattered dress plunges from the darkness.
The rope catches with a brutal snap, stopping her inches above the path before the momentum swings her straight toward us.
Her hair whips across her face, bare feet slicing through the fog as the frayed hem skims Maddie’s shoulder. Then she screams.
Evie and Maddie answer in unison, their shrieks ricocheting through the maze. I’m certain I’ll lose some of my hearing by the time we get out.
The fog thickens until it blankets the path in dense, rolling banks, swallowing Maddie from the knees upward until only the pale blur of her hair remains ahead of us.
Evie’s moved even closer now, her shoulder brushing my arm every few steps.
Somewhere to our left, a chainsaw coughs once, falls silent, then erupts into a full-throated snarl close enough to vibrate through the ground beneath my boots.
“Is that real?” Evie’s hand tightens in mine until I feel every bone in her grip.
“The chain is off,” Maddie says. “It’s just noise.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because they’re not allowed to actually dismember guests. Insurance purposes.”
“That’s not comforting.”
The chainsaw revs again. A figure in coveralls and a burlap mask crashes through the corn in front of us.
Evie shrieks and slams into my side so hard that I have to brace to keep us both upright.
Her face presses into my shoulder. She’s not watching the guy at all, just pressing into me like I’m a shield capable of stopping power tools.
I wrap both arms around her automatically.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair.
She makes a sound that might be acknowledgment or terror, and her fingers twist tighter in my jacket as the chainsaw guy retreats into the corn with a final rev and a maniacal laugh.
“He’s gone,” I say quietly.
“I know.”
“You can let go now.”
“I know that too.”
She tilts her face up. Her eyes are dark and wide, pupils blown from adrenaline, and the color high in her cheeks makes her freckles stand out.
“This is terrible,” she whispers.
“You’re doing great.”
Her attention drops to my mouth, and for one wildly inappropriate second I forget there’s a chainsaw somewhere behind us. I could kiss her. Judging by the fact that she’s still tucked against my chest, she might even let me.
A group of people comes tearing around the corner behind us, six or seven of them running at full speed and shrieking with laughter, phone flashlights swinging wild arcs through the fog.
One of them slams into Evie’s shoulder, and she stumbles forward.
The rest shove between us, laughing as they go.
A scarecrow actor lunges from the corn into their path with a roar.
I lose sight of Evie behind a wall of flailing limbs and puffer jackets as the scarecrow chases the group down the left fork. They disappear into the maze, their screams fading into the distance.
Maddie jogs up, breathless and grinning until she sees I’m alone.
“Where’s Evie?”
“I lost sight of her.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“She was right here. The group shoved through, and when I turned around, she was gone.”
“Okay.” Maddie already has her phone out. “It’s Evie. She’s probably marching toward the exit, so she can yell at us for losing her. We’ll split up. I’ll go right, you go left.”
Then she disappears down the right fork.