“Twelve hundred crickets.” Quin laughs and nudges me. “That’s so sick, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah, totally sick.”
* * *
—
“Your son’s blood is healthy.”
It feels like my hospital bed is turning into a swampy marsh.
“Healthy?” Mom’s voice shoots up an octave. “How is that possible?”
“We found no abnormalities,” Dr. Savory explains.
“But…Dylan says it feels like the world is spinning! He fell over in the kitchen the other day because he couldn’t keep his balance. And now you’re telling me he’s healthy?”
“I’m saying his blood is healthy,” the doctor corrects her.
Mom shakes her head. “You need to keep looking. I know there’s something wrong with him.”
* * *
—
“Names?”
It’s finally our turn. Quin lists our names. The man at the desk nods and crosses all five of us off the list.
“Great. Your group’s complete, so now you can fill out the contracts and hand them in over there.” He points at another desk.
I take the sheet of letter paper. Quin was right. There really is a contract. Isn’t that totally over the top? I take the contract over to one of the standing tables, where Quin immediately starts frantically checking all the boxes. Sofia’s biting the end of her pen.
I focus on my own contract and start reading.
Dear Fright Nighter,
As organizers, we would like to ask you to read the following points carefully.
Check the boxes to indicate that you have read and understood the warnings.
☐ I understand that Fright Night can be disturbing and intense.
☐ I understand that my freedom of movement may be severely restricted at times.
☐ I understand that the actors have to stop at all times if I use the safe word KETCHUP. In that case, Fright Night will end immediately for my group.
During Fright Night, it is not permitted to:
☐ Take photographs or make video recordings.
☐ Make use of flashlights that you have brought here yourself.
☐ Touch our actors.
☐ Eat, drink, or smoke.
☐ Carry sharp objects, such as umbrellas.
Fright Night is not suitable for anyone:
☐ Who is under the age of sixteen.
☐ Who has heart problems.
☐ Who has epilepsy.
☐ Who suffers from claustrophobia.
☐ Who is pregnant.
☐ Who can’t stand the sight of blood.
☐ Who is unable to walk independently.
Access to Fright Night is permitted only with a valid admission ticket and after this contract has been signed.
I understand and accept that the organizers of Fright Night are in no way liable for any kind of damage (either physical or emotional) suffered by me as a result of participation in Fright Night.
First and last names:
Date of birth:
Today’s date:
Signature:
“Why do you think we’re not allowed to touch the actors?” Sofia has chewed the end of her pen to pieces. My own pen is still hovering over the dotted line.
“They must be worried that people will just lash out as a reflex,” says Quin. He snatches my contract. “Where’s your signature?”
“I still need to sign.” I take back my contract. “Lash out? What do you mean?”
“Simple. If someone scares you, what do you do?”
“Run away,” replies Sofia before I can say anything.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Nothing, I think.”
“Just my luck,” Quin says with a sigh. “I’m out for a night with Ms. Flight and Mr. Fright.”
“Mr. what now?”
“Everyone reacts differently when they’re in danger.” Quin puts up three fingers. “You’ve got flight: the people who run away as soon as they get the chance, heading for safety. Then there’s fright: the ones who don’t do anything but just freeze. And then there are the fighters. They face the situation head-on—and they use their fists.”
“So that makes you Mr. Fight, right?” Sofia says, giving Quin’s skinny upper arm a squeeze. “Hmm, I’m curious to see how that works out.”
Quin pouts and looks offended. “You just wait. Want to bet you’ll be begging to hide behind my big broad back before long?”
Sofia and I both burst out laughing. Now that Quin’s standing next to Martin, it’s even more obvious just how small he is.
Quin points at my dotted line. “Go on, Mr. Fright, sign it. Or I’ll do it for you.”
KELLY
“Shit, man. You are one hot mess.”
It is Sandy. I know that because I was sitting next to him the entire time with the makeup artist, but when I see him here in the dark woods, shivers run down my spine. They’ve turned him into a sort of horror clown, with long, sharp teeth. He’s wearing yellow contact lenses, which gleam when I aim the flashlight at him.
“No, dude. You’re the hot stuff around here!” says Sandy.
The makeup was applied in thick layers, and they just kept smearing it on. When I saw the result in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was me looking back. A face covered in scars, with deep furrows and lines. They blackened some of my teeth so it looks like I have big gaping holes in my mouth.
The only giveaway is my eyes. I took out the contacts they gave me as soon as I could because they stung so bad.
“We’re going to move soon. This spot is lame.”
The organizers put us close to the start of Fright Night. I can hear the music at the entrance from behind our wall.
“I want to do more than just jump out and scare people. Don’t you?”
I know exactly what Sandy means. The professional actors, who have done Fright Night before, are in the four Scare Zones. They go way beyond just scaring people. They push the Fright Nighters to the limits. The words Insect Zone gave me the shivers. The video of the twelve hundred crickets from last year has been burned into my memory since the training, and someone said they were actually live.
Why would anyone volunteer for this? I don’t think the Fright Nighters have any idea what’s waiting for them in these woods.
“As soon as the first groups have passed, we’ll set off. We’re the best, Kelly. Staying here is a waste of our talents. I want to unleash the insects on the Fright Nighters. I want to lock them up. I want to drive them insane!”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to get fired on the first night.”
“Don’t be a sap. No one’s going to notice.” Sandy takes something out of his pocket. “And there’s always this…”
I see something glint in the beam of our flashlight and step back, startled.
“What the…?!”
“A knife, what’d you think?”
“But we’re not allowed to have sharp objects!”
When did Sandy put that thing in his pocket? I didn’t notice anything at all!
“That rule only applies to the Fright Nighters,” says Sandy. “Anyway, there’s one guy out there with a baton and there’s a girl with a chainsaw!”
I look at the knife in Sandy’s hand. It’s a switchblade, the kind of knife that shoots out of the handle when you press a button. Is it the same knife that got him into trouble before?
“Put it away,” I say. “Please.”
“You’re so paranoid.” Sandy puts the knife in the pocket of his clown suit. “I’m not going to stab anyone.”
Suddenly I remember Nell’s words: Sandy’s a bad influence on you. Sandy might seem intense, but in reality he wouldn’t harm a fly now. Sure he’s done things he shouldn’t have, but he’s calmed
down a lot. He hasn’t been in a fight for a few months, and he’s being a good boy and going to all his therapy sessions. I should trust him more.
“Hey, what did you think of that girl with the chainsaw?”
I look up. Sandy’s talking about that girl from the training course. I knew she was his type. He was putting on a bit of an extra show for her.
“Nice.”
“Nice?” Sandy bursts out laughing. “Did you see the tits on her?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Sandy’s eyes narrow. “You like someone else, don’t you?”
I feel my cheeks explode. “No, no way.”
Sandy laughs. “Yeah, you do. Who is it?”
“No one.”
“Do I have to use my knife?”
“Whatever,” I say.
It’s quiet for a moment, but then Sandy says, “Is it…a neighbor?”
When I don’t react, he whistles. “Nell? You kidding me? It’s Nell.”
There’s no point denying it. Sandy always sees through me, even with three layers of makeup on my face.
“You got good taste,” says Sandy. “But it’s not very…practical.”
Of course it’s not practical. I know that myself. But from the very first moment I saw Nell, I knew I’d never be able to get her out of my mind. When she’s around, I become aware of every fiber in my body. I can’t explain it to Sandy. I don’t think he’s ever felt that way about a girl.
At that moment, the music stops. Sandy and I both look over our shoulders and hear a man’s voice through a loudspeaker, welcoming the Fright Nighters.
When the man finishes, everyone cheers. The ground under our feet feels like it’s shaking.
It’s finally here. Fright Night has begun.
MURDERER
All those Fright Nighters together,
the tension in the air…
You could feel that something special was about to happen.
And we were there.
Is that what you were thinking too?
I think you were looking forward to that night as much as me.
You had no way of knowing it would be your last.
FRIGHT NIGHT
SOFIA
Quin curses under his breath. “It’s so dark.”
“Yeah, it’s a Fright Night, not a Fright Morning,” says Martin. He switches on the flashlight. “Which way do we go?”
“Follow the arrows,” says Dylan.
He points and I see a luminous arrow hanging on a tree nearby. It’s begun. There’s no way back. When I handed in the contract, I felt my stomach twitch with suspense.
The farther we walk from the entrance, the darker the woods become. In the distance, I can already hear girls screaming. That’s the group that left before us. We are the sixth group to set off, so luckily we don’t have long to wait.
“I can’t wait for the first Scare Zone,” says Quin.
I have no idea what the zones are going to be like. Could Martin’s story about the twelve hundred crickets really be true? I think about the reviews I read. There were even some posts from people saying, “Don’t do it!” One of them said there’s always someone who passes out.
I walk a bit closer behind Martin as we follow the direction of the first arrow. The first big scare could come at any moment….
“I think there’s someone standing over there,” Nell says, pointing into the distance. My heart rate immediately skyrockets. There are dozens of actors hidden in these woods, and the flashlight is pretty weak. Martin laughs.
“I certainly hope there’s someone standing over there. That’s what we paid for, isn’t it?”
Fright Night wasn’t cheap. I’ve already burned through my savings for the summer. The rest of this break I’ll have to rely on the generosity of my parents and my friends.
We pass a wall. I bet there’s someone behind it.
But nothing happens. The only sound is our own breathing.
“What is this? Fright Night for under-twelves?” begins Martin, but right at that moment someone jumps out from behind a tree on the other side of the path. He’s holding a flashlight under his blood-covered face, and his eyes are manic.
“Girrrlie…” He reaches toward me, and I shriek and back away. “Are you here to see me?” He licks his lips. “Then come a little closer.”
I feel a hand on my arm, pulling me away from the man. I don’t see whose hand it is until we’re out of the guy’s reach. Dylan looks at me with a smile.
“You okay?”
I nod but I feel my heart pounding against my ribs. Why am I being such a drama queen? I knew something like that was going to happen, didn’t I?
“What a creep.” Nell shivers. “That blood…He nearly grabbed your jacket!”
I don’t like the thought of actors touching you. If we’re not allowed to touch them, why are they allowed to touch us?
A few yards away, a flashlight suddenly goes on. I see a thin man standing on the path. He has bags under his eyes and a chalk-white face. It’s like a scene from a horror movie.
“Good evening.”
His voice is deep and ominous. His gray hair is tied back in a ponytail, and he’s wearing an immaculate three-piece suit.
“Great. Another creep,” Nell whispers.
“Why’s he standing so still?” I whisper back. I know he’s going to pounce just when we’re least expecting it.
“Come closer. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”
No need to be afraid? This is Fright Night! But the five of us obediently shuffle forward.
“Which one of you is”—the man looks around our group—“Quin?”
A deathly silence falls. How does he know our names?
But then I remember my list of fears. They know exactly who all the Fright Nighters are. There’s a reason why the organizers leave a little time between groups. It’s so the actors know exactly which groups are coming and what their greatest fears are.
“I’m Quin,” I hear beside me. When I look at him, I can’t see a trace of fear on his face. How can he stay so calm?
“Are you ready?” The man beckons with his white-gloved hand.
Quin frowns. “Ready for what exactly, sir?”
The man smiles. “Ready for your death.”
DYLAN
The actor takes us deeper into the trees.
Since when is Quin scared of dying? He’s never said anything about it to me. Maybe he just wrote that down because he couldn’t think of anything else. Death is a logical answer, though. It must be among the top three fears.
But it’s not one of mine.
* * *
—
“No!” My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want to!”
The tunnel I have to go into for the brain scan is way too small. How will I ever be able to breathe in there?
“The doctor just needs to look inside your head.” Mom grabs my wrists so I can’t move. “Just calm down!”
I thrash my legs around.
“Mrs. Dumont.” Dr. Savory places a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go wait in the corridor?”
Mom never lets anyone send her away. She’s always there, somewhere in the shadows. But to my surprise she goes.
Dr. Savory comes and sits on the edge of the bed. “Why are you so frightened?”
I look at the corridor, where I can see Mom through the glass. She’s pacing back and forth.
“Are you afraid of the tunnel?”
I nod.
“It’s really quick, honestly. It’ll be over before you know it. Do you want to listen to some music?”
I look up. “Can I?”
“Sure.” There’s that sparkle in her eyes again.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I say quietly. I’d behaved badl
y. Mom’s going to be mad at me later.
“Just call me Eliza.” Dr. Savory gives me a wink. “Because that’s my name.”
* * *
—
“We’re here.” The man stops in front of a small concrete building.
Martin curiously runs his flashlight over the windows, but they have garbage bags taped over them to block out the light.
“You’re expected.” The man bows and walks back in the direction we came from.
I’m suddenly delighted I’m not in Quin’s shoes, but he doesn’t seem at all bothered.
“Here goes.” Quin pushes the door open.
We step into a small room with speakers on the ceiling, four chairs, and a low coffee table with magazines on it. The most remarkable thing about the room is the one-way mirror, the kind they have in police stations so they can keep an eye on the suspect. There’s nothing to see, just our own reflections.
As Martin turns off the flashlight, the door beside the window opens. This man looks even creepier than his friend. He’s wearing white face paint and red contacts, so it looks like his eyes are bleeding. It’s a gruesome sight, but I can’t stop looking.
“Quin Larkin?”
Quin raises his hand without hesitation.
“This way, please.”
What’s going to happen? Before I can ask, the door closes behind them. I hear a key being turned on the other side.
It’s suddenly deathly silent in the room.
Sofia is the first to speak. “What on earth is this?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see anything.” Nell peers through the glass, but the room behind is pitch dark. The fluorescent tube on the ceiling flickers.
“This is horrible,” Sofia says quietly.
“It’s supposed to be horrible.” Martin tries to look through the glass too. “The tickets were way too expensive for just a few horror effects in the woods. Fright Night goes way beyond that. They really do go to extremes.”
Fright Night Page 4
