The click of the lock latching behind us echoes through the house.
Nancy’s shoulders jump, and her icy fingers clasp mine, seeking for comfort as we venture deeper into the foyer. I give her hand a slight squeeze and smile. Her blue eyes stare back into me, terror swimming in her irises.
Jen takes the lead, stretching an arm so Nance can hold on to her too. Together, we act as a barrier to keep her safe from the unknown that greets us in the lobby and the pack of jocks behind us. They won’t stop snickering and badgering one another, like a group of prepubescent teenage boys.
For a minute, I stand still, observing my surroundings. It seems like the best way to familiarize myself with the environment. The more comfortable I am, the better my chances are at winning this and right now, I want to win more than anything in the world.
Well, almost more than anything, I admit to myself, because if I had a choice, I’d be with Silver Mask. A sudden wave of desire hits me with the force of a tsunami, starting a subtle throb at the apex of my thighs. Instinctually, I clench them as I take deep breaths through my nose—the mix of odors lingering in the air is enough to distract me from the lustful thoughts invading me.
Exhaling, I continue gazing around the room. I memorize the décor, categorizing potential hiding spots, and looking for escape routes. Anything that could give me an advantage over my competition.
My mom would call me pendeja for willingly putting myself through this, but I choose to believe I’m stubbornly brave.
The entryway to Slashed is surprisingly illuminated.
An overhead bulb shines over our heads, allowing us to see the vast space of the foyer. Imperial stairs flow down from the top floor to the straight maroon rug that sits under our feet and stretches across the hall. Parallel to where we stand, open double doors greet us with glimpse of steps going down disappearing into the darkness. A white sign with a red arrow points up and another black poster points at a basement floor.
My throat constricts, even when I’m not scared. No, this is different than fear. It’s a nervous anticipation that’s caused an anxious sweat to break out at the base of my neck, condensing in the palms of my hands.
The two paths are a painful reminder that there will come a moment where my friends and I will be separated. And it means I could choose wrong too, says the voice in the back of my brain. If I don’t pick correctly, it’s possible I won’t see Silver Mask again. I might get chased and pursued by another scare actor who does not know about the glances we exchanged outside.
Doubt laces a band around my throat, tightening it until I’m struggling to breathe for a few seconds in which I let the panic take the reins. It doesn’t last more than a split moment, because Jen looks at me expectantly. So does Nancy.
For them, I do my best to snap out of this anxious trance and put my head back in the game. There’s no place for Silver Mask in my list of priorities when we’re trapped inside the house. I can find him afterward. I have no doubts we could sneak backstage somewhere.
Right now, though, the most important thing is to make sure I’m not separated from my friends. Especially when the jocks keep picking on Nance because they see her as the weak link.
I can’t let that happen.
No, I won’t allow it.
My hand clings to hers and I nudge her back to bring her closer to Jen and away from the guys. Protective instincts have kicked in and I don’t want sweet Nancy to be anywhere near those assholes.
“So, are we moving or what?” Jock One asks, pushing past us to move to the front. His hands rest on his hips as his chest puffs out with dominance. “We can’t stay here all night waiting for our tickets to expire. The tour only lasts an hour and a half.”
I glance at my wrist, wishing I had my watch. If I’m to be trusted with time, I’d say it’s only been a few minutes. I’m sure most people have spent a little while wandering around before deciding what to do. However, his tone and imposing demeanor shows he wants to be in the lead.
“Don’t worry, ladies, we’ve got this.” Almost like he senses that none of us girls buy his big macho behavior, Jock Two squeezes between us and pats his buddy’s shoulder in a supportive way.
“There are different paths, asshole,” Jen points out, raising her jaw defiantly. “Do you want to make the wrong choice so early?” She arches a brow and purses her lips.
His mouth curls into a snarl.
He doesn’t love that we don’t fall to their feet.
I find it ironic that we’ve barely started the game and we’re already distrusting and fighting each other over a stupid decision, such as going up or down.
I glare at the guy, daring him to say anything in return. He’s the tallest among the guys and appears to be the leader of the clan. His skin has a slight olive undertone, and his eyes are dark brown. A mop of golden curls falls over the base of his neck, and his fingers rake through them. I recognize him as the one who pushed me.
“What? Choose already.” The blond turns, moving a hand around. “It’s simple. Up or down?”
“We don’t have to stay together,” I remind them matter-of-factly. “You heard the instructions. We’re bound to split ways. Might as well start now.”
“Nah, fuck the rules. We stick close until a nutcase with a knife chases us,” Jock Three states. “Until then, Sean and Ty can control themselves.”
At least one of them has half a brain cell working. I wouldn’t say he’s smart by any means, but his approach is better—only partially—than his friends. I don’t give him much credit. After all, he laughed when his friend pushed me.
Remembering what he called them, I decide the blond is Sean, and the other is Ty. I can’t care less, but it’s easier than calling them Jock One and Two in my head.
“They better keep it together,” Jennifer warns with a scowl.
“Bite me, spitfire.” Sean hisses, flaring his nostrils at her. “Let’s go up.”
“Actually…” I interrupt, stepping forward with my spine straight in aim to appear taller than I am. Not that it makes a difference because their frames tower my five-foot-five figure, but it matters to me. “I think downstairs might be good.”
Nancy stiffens and digs her nails into the back of my hand, almost cutting the skin. Though everything inside me is screaming at me to wince and pull my hand back, I refuse to do it. I don’t wish to appear fearful. I want to look fearless in front of these douches.
“It’s dark,” Ty mumbles, clearly less concerned about being pegged as a coward. “Upstairs seems like it would be easier.”
My eyes fling up to confirm his words, and he’s not wrong. The second floor doesn’t have the same illumination as the foyer. It’s not an overhead bulb, but purple neon lights. An odd choice for a Halloween attraction, though who am I to criticize? That part of the house is giving an 80s slasher movie.
The darkness downstairs… I’m not sure. But I didn’t want to follow along with the guys’ plans, so I go against them, even when my friends shoot daggers in my direction.
“What, afraid of the dark?” I tease with a childish grin. “Think El Cuco will get you?”
“Down,” Jock Three intervenes. “We can go to the basement. I’m Steve, by the way.”
The other guy, Ty, hoots and laughs at Sean.
“Fine. Downstairs it is. Don’t forget to hold my hand when you’re afraid you’ll piss yourself.”
He wishes.
I nudge at Nancy’s back. “Come on.”
Nance spins on her heels, panic adhering to her soft doe-like features.
“No, you go first, Miss I’m-Not-Scared-Of-Anything.”
Playfully, I poke my tongue out and call her a crybaby before leading the group to the basement.
Jen stays behind Nancy, imitating my actions of guarding her from the guys, and we all move down.
The stairs are steep and dark. Blinking, I do my best to command my sight to get used to the obscure thickness around my body, yet it’s not enough to see the space. I can barely make out the silhouette of the railing next to me, thick and in rough shape. My right hand squeezes it. The crispness of the old wood scratches my skin.
Arming myself with courage, I dip my toes onto the first step, and it creaks under the weight of my body. My muscles freeze. I want to let someone go in front of me, allowing the terror to sink in and take control, but I can’t. Swallowing the dryness in my mouth as if I’ve choked down a bunch of sand, and I push through. I steadily make it to the end of the stairs and poke around, hoping to find a light switch.
I discover a single cord hanging from the ceiling and pull it.
Red neon lights spark through the large space. It’s not an actual basement like I thought it was. Instead, a long hall unfolds in front with multiple doors at the sides. Five that I count. Two on each side and one at the end.
Tension builds in the room.
Not a single sound can be heard other than the huffs of our breathing patterns. We’re on edge. Even if nobody wants to admit it, anxiety keeps us tense and reeling. It’s like those moments in horror movies when you realize a jump scare is about to happen and you try to brace yourself for it, and it always catches you off-guard.
I venture deeper into the hall until the entire group is touching the ground. Panic rises in my system. My pulse hammers against the ribs. Sweat pools in the palms of my hands. Chills skitter down my spine, keeping me alert and hypervigilant.
Something’s about to happen. I know it deep in my core. A heavy pressure forces my stomach deeper into my insides, while my heart crawls up my throat, getting stuck in my airways.
A deafening bang comes from atop the stairs, and Nance lets out a shriek that makes me jump. When a shadow appears on the steps, everyone backs away in my direction. Nancy screams the entire time, the noise vibrating in my ears.
I tug at Nancy’s and Jen’s arms.
“Move, dude! He’s coming after us,” Sean bellows, pushing his friends out of the way.
The door at the end of the hall swings open, revealing a new figure. It’s an outline made of a swirl of shadows; the neon red lights casting an unholy halo around it. While I cannot distinguish the person’s identity, I’m certain of who it is. The memory vividly pops into my brain as if it were happening in front of my eyes all over again.
And it is, and it catches my breath just the same.
The figure tilts their head, allowing the red rays to reflect off the mask.
It’s him.
Silver Mask.
This time, he’s so much closer than he was when I first saw him. In a closed room, I can take in how tall he is compared to the frame behind him. I estimate his height to be over six feet high, though he might as well be a giant. It’s different to see him being overshadowed by the outside world than to witness him where his aura drowns and overpowers everything around him.
He commands the place.
His stance bounces his weight from one boot to the other, swaying with anticipation as his hands fidget with the knife in the same way they did before. Rolling the hilt between his gloved fingers.
Silver Mask is even more attractive with adrenaline pumping through my veins, affecting my senses like a sweet cocktail.
My heartbeat races with a mix of fright and excitement.
This isn’t real. It’s a simulation. My brain knows this. I’m all too aware of that fact, but it doesn’t change the way my body reacts to the scenario. Even though this is a performance, part of me wants to scream and allow terror to paralyze me, let Slashed win, and escape this tiny pod of hell.
The other side of me, the one that buzzes with the thrill of the adrenaline coursing through my veins, doesn’t want the jocks to be the ones left standing.
I plan to outsmart them and deceive the masked man.
Somehow, the thought of him chasing me becomes appealing and exciting, instead of scary and off-putting. Almost… exhilarating, and it fizzes in my system, awakening my senses with its effervescence.
Even more conscious of what’s happening, I move faster and more determined to achieve my goal, dragging Jen and Nancy with me toward the first escape route I find. They locked the one from the left side of the hall and I shuffle with the knob a few times before moving on to the right one. I twist it, and—thank God—push it open with enough time to squeeze my friends into the new room.
Ty, Steve and the other guy follow inside before Silver Mask catches us.
Sean almost reaches the doorway when a gloved hand wraps around the neck of his varsity jacket and pulls him back with a surprising amount of strength. My ears ring from the screams echoing around me, and I rush to slam the wood shut to prevent Silver Mask from eliminating us from the game.
However, this leaves Sean outside to fend for himself. Not that I’m mad about it. The earlier the Slashed actors eliminate them from the simulation, the faster we can leave.
Still, it doesn’t make it easier when his fists slam against the wood.
Fast, hard, and desperate.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Open the door! Let me in!” he shrieks. The shrill causes goosebumps to erupt over the skin of my arms. “Let me in, please! No, no, no…” His voice breaks into full blood-curdling screeches that reverberate in the walls and ring in my ears.
Then silence arrives. An eerie quietness that drills into my bones and fills the place under the erratic sounds of panting and wheezing.
“Holy shit,” I murmur under my breath. “That was hardcore.”
No wonder the tickets were so hard to find, and some people were reselling them after the first few reviews. I understand the need for the waivers because this isn’t for the faint of heart. Hell, I doubt this is even for the strong ones. My thighs shake and thin drops of sweat gather at my hairline.
Wiping them with the sleeve of my jacket, I rub the back of a weeping Nancy.
“Oh, God. I want to leave already. This is too much.”
“Shh, it’s okay. They’re acting. This isn’t real,” Jen croons.
“Dude, I didn’t know Sean could scream like that,” Ty jokes. “He’s never going to live this down.”
I hope he doesn’t.
I’m petty. After he pranced around like a peacock, flaunting how we’d be safe with him, I’m glad he end up being the first one to be eliminated. Karma seems to be in my favor tonight.
“Someone find a light switch or cord,” I tell the rest, subtly reminding them we aren’t secure yet. Another actor might be hiding in the corner without us noticing.
Besides, in the dark, we’re vulnerable and easy targets.
Though it comes across as an order, I pat around to help too.
“Found it!” I recognize the voice as Steve’s.
The switch clicks and a red light glows to life.
Jen lets out a choked gasp, pointing at the sliver of space between the wood and the floor where a thick liquid spreads from the other side. The scarlet hue throws me off, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s blood.
Fake blood, that is. The Slashed staff team seems committed to making this event extra realistic. This is money well spent. I don’t think I’ve ever visited a haunted attraction where they put so much attention to the details, to the point where it’s almost real.
They weren’t kidding when they said it’d be an immersive experience. I’m too deep into this.
“Good Lord,” Nance croaks out, hiding her face in the curve of Jen’s neck, who hugs her and hushes out comforting words. “Why did I agree to do this?”
“Dude, is that fucking blood?” Ty asks.
“Fuck, no.”
“It’s probably corn syrup mixed with food coloring,” I provide. Not that I’ve ever seen real blood in that amount, but I’ve dealt with my fair share of fake blood for SFX makeup on Halloween and some short films I’ve worked on in college. This looks strikingly similar. “We’ve used that formula to make some effects in film class.”
The hard bang of something hitting the door makes us all jump.
Is he planning to kick it open?
I get my response when the noise repeats.
I don’t know how much they’re paying him, but he’s earning every dollar from the check. He’s committed, I’ll give him that.
Spinning on my heels, I search for an alternative way out. But there aren’t any.
Bang.
I hope this is not one of those movie situations where the killer kicks it down within a minute, because we need more time to find a hint on how to get out of here.
There are no more doors or windows in this room. Plain walls with a simple wallpaper. No furniture or decorations aside from a single painting of an entrance hanging on the background wall.
Frowning, I approach it. It’s odd and out of place. Too big for it to not mean something. It stands out. Besides, the design is straightforward, like it states an obvious message.
A clue.
I walk toward it, grab the edges of the frame, and yank it from its hook. Behind it, the small outline of a door appears hidden by the thin wallpaper, keeping it shut. There’s no knob or keyhole. So, I’m guessing the paper is the only thing holding it together.
The new way out.
“I need a key,” I ask, moving a hand around.
The guys pat their pockets and a few seconds later, I get a car key dropped on my palm. Quickly, I insert it in the outlines to cut it. My heart drums at the beat of the banging coming from outside. Shaking my head, I focus on the task to fling open the small wooden lid.
Dim purple lights construct the length of a tunnel out of the room. Wide enough to be a regular hall, but it doesn’t have any other way out, just this one and the exit. I peek inside to find out it’s filled with water. This is what they meant by damaged clothes.
“Let’s go,” I swing my head in its direction, and it’s when I realize that the banging has stopped.
Either he’s given up, or there’s another way for him to sneak up on us.
Maybe this is the end of his area.
This only brings disappointment because I’m nowhere near done. I might be sick for admitting this, but the idea of him chasing me through the house was oddly thrilling. There are so many things I fantasize about that would have my grandmother clutching the pearls of her rosary. I am too far gone to be saved by her prayers and Ave Marías.
Burying the disappointment deep into my core, I duck to fit into the small entrance to the tunnel. Unfortunately, the entry isn’t too small for the jocks to fit through. It’d be easier to get rid of them if it were. My boots make a loud splash as I jump inside, and the rest of the group mimics the sound.
Jen mutters a string of curses. “This is perfect. You’re going to pay for these shoes.”
For the first time since we started the game, a chuckle climbs up my throat.
“You wish.”
“I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Steve interrupts, “but I swear to God something touched my foot.”
He’s not lying because a second later, I see a swish in the dark water. The unmistakable zigzag causes my larynx to clamp up. Another splash flashes around us, going through our legs.
Nausea rolls through my stomach.
There are snakes.
I don’t know if they’re fake or not, but the idea of having reptiles touching my body ignites a fresh need to flee. Losing control of my actions, I wrap a hand around the wristband, fingers almost grazing the sensor to call a staff member to take me out of here. It’s an immediate response that my brain doesn’t even register. Triggered by unknown fears I’d never faced before.
The only times I’ve seen snakes have been at the zoo when a glass separates us. I’m not a fan of them, though. Scales make the bad tingles roam my body. A shiver runs down my spine as the grotesque image of a serpent slithering over me pops into my brain. It doesn’t matter if they’re fake. They drag the same, and I can’t help but sprint to the end of the tunnel, consumed by a surge of terror.
For the first time tonight, I don’t worry about my friends. No one matters other than myself, even going as far as pushing them out of the way so I can run faster and get out of here.
I want to escape this fucking water.
I need to see what’s under my feet and make sure nothing else is touching me. I’ve never given thought about what dark waters disguise but now it’s embedded in my brain. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go for a night swim, even in pools. No one knows what can hide underneath, and I’m not willing to find out.
The mind is a powerful thing when it plays tricks on you, poking at your fears, and fooling you into thinking something’s real when it’s not. Because what if… What if this is an unethical place waiting to be shut down because they terrorize the attendees? One never knows when an establishment might take it too far.
I know I paid for this—to be frightened, to experience such a macabre scenario. However, it doesn’t mean I can’t get scared. I feel like I’m three seconds away from having a premature heart attack at twenty-two years old.
I’d rather be chased by a masked man a hundred times over.
Where’s Silver Mask when a girl needs him? He can swoop in with his prop knife and end this game already. I’m ready to drop everything.
Pins and needles prick along the length of my arms, sending shivers down my fingers. My pulse races in my ears and all I can hear is the swoosh of the blood rushing through me. The sense of panic is undeniable. It traps me in its web, minimizing the surrounding area. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the walls of the tunnel have shrunk.
It isn’t until I’ve made it safe and sound to the other end that I regain control over my body. Thankfully, everyone had the same response because we’ve all crammed into the smaller new space. The lights here are messed up, so the red glow flickers off and on every few beats.
I inhale, hold my breath for five seconds, and exhale softly. Then repeat the exercise three more times until the panic softens its grip on me, allowing me to take the lead again. With a clearer brain, my senses return to me, and I feel stupid for freaking out so badly.
Not that it’s silly to be frightened, but I wasn’t expecting to react like that after claiming I didn’t get scared easily. It’s okay to be spooked. Hell, Slashed wouldn’t be doing its job if we remained stoic and unbothered through the entire experience.
I gotta give it to them.
This is the best—and simultaneously worst—haunted attraction I’ve attended. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s the only one that’s caused me to lose my head in this way.
“Wait.” Ty’s voice drags me out of my bubble, pulling me back to the scene unfolding before me. “Where the fuck is Chip?”
Who the hell is Chip?
I blink a few times, attempting to adjust to the constant flickering to count the heads of the group. Jen and Nance stand together on one side, while Steve and Ty are on the other. Ty is correct. Someone’s missing, the guy whose name I hadn’t heard before.
He’s… gone.
Not a trace of him lingering in the air.
“Was he in the tunnel with us?” Jennifer asks, her voice hoarse from screaming.
“Yeah, he was behind me,” Steve says, then hesitates. “Was he?”
“He was in the other area, right?” I speak. My throat aches after slightly losing my head, and I bet it’s going to be worse tomorrow morning. “I remember him there.”
But somewhere along the tunnel, between the fake snakes and the room, he was dragged away.
Maybe he found another path, or the fear got to him.
It doesn’t matter where he ended up because it means we’re closer to ending this—only five more people to go.
Even if it makes me sound like an asshole, now that calmness flows in me, I’m glad the jocks have gotten eliminated pretty quickly.
A staircase rises behind us with a closed exit at the top, and we collectively climb upstairs in silence. I prepare for the next scare, unsure of what’s coming. After the tunnel, I’m sure we’re bound to find something worse.
As we near the door, I allow Steve to pass me. The rest follow. Jen stands in front of me, while Nance holds onto my arm, walking behind me. At the end of the line, Ty bounces on the tip of his shoes, anxious to get the hell out of here, even when his face is masked by indifference.
Nance’s nails dig into the fabric of my jacket. Her teeth chatter as she struggles to stay put. I want to offer to give up. Her wristband is close enough that it would take me no effort to press the button for someone to get her out. It’d almost be an act of mercy if I did it. Though I wouldn’t do it without her consent.
“You okay?” I whisper. “You know you’re allowed to leave at any time?”
From my peripheral vision, I see her head bob.
“I can do this,” she responds. “It’s going to be fine.”
I look at her and feel pride bloom in my chest.
The girl is more than terrified, shaking like an anxious chihuahua, and she’s still here, refusing to give up. That’s admirable of her.
“I’m proud of you.”
A shaky laugh abandons her lips.
“Oh, trust me when I say you owe me for this.” She pauses. “Big. Time.”
“Do your worst. I probably deserve it,” I respond in complicity.
She hums in agreement.
A creak breaks the moment of tranquility when I reach the top of the steps, and when I turn around, I catch a glimpse of a silver reflection moving hurriedly further down the steps.
Silver Mask grabs Ty’s leg and pulls hard. The force makes Ty lose balance and fall forward on the stairs, his chin hitting the edge of one sharp step. He lets out a pained groan as he tries to recover from the attack, but there’s not enough time because Silver Mask tugs again, dragging him down. Like a trapped prey, Ty’s hands fly around, trying to hold on to something, yet what he finds is the last thing I would’ve wanted. His fingers trap the base of Nancy’s ankle, yanking her with him.
“Sadie!”
“Don’t let go!” I yell, clinging to my friend’s hand as she’s being towed down by the jock.
Jen surrounds my waist with her arms, preventing me from falling too. I use the weight of my body to balance myself while stopping Nancy from meeting the same end as him.
Sweat pools on the palm of my hands.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I won’t be able to pull her free, not when the bodies trapping Nance are stronger than I am, not when my palms are sweaty. Another yank by Silver Mask, and Ty’s hold overpowers mine because her hand loosens its grip and slips away, falling down the stairs alongside him.
The sudden weight shift hauls Jennifer and me back, and our butts meet the floor. But I’m too overwhelmed with the adrenaline and the need to help Nancy that I can’t process the pain. I know I’ll have some bruising from the solid tip of Jen’s boot hitting my thigh, but it’s the least of my concerns.
What happens later is a blur.
Jen screams louder than I’ve ever heard her before—almost screeching like a banshee.
One moment I’m staring at Nancy’s horrified expression, blue eyes gawking back at me with tears spilling from them, and the next, Steve’s figure blocks my view as he closes the door.
“What have you done?!” The scream abandons me, raw and gritty as I jump to my feet and grab the knob.
I need to help Nancy.
I must… I…
The metal of the knob clanks with the way I rattle it, trying my hardest to get it to push it, but it doesn’t bulge. It stays put. Immobile, frozen as the time standing still in front of me as realize what’s happening.
It can’t open from this side.
Jen slams the palm of her hands against the heavy wood as she screams, “Nancy! Oh, God, Nance!”
And I stand there helpless, listening to the sharp shrieks of my scared friend on the other side.
