Page 61 of The King of Halloween
“I’m sorry,” Raj repeated. “There’s been a problem. We’ll get it up and running soon. Just have to fix a few things.”
The collective groan nearly blew Raj into the plywood door.
Fearing the appearance of torches and pitchforks, Adam pushed through the crowd. Some tried to close him off, but he called out, “Move aside for your king!” The shock was usually enough to get them to go limp so he could slip on past.
By the time he made it to the front, Raj was too busy offering appeasements to the people ready to draw and quarter him. “Having troubles?” Adam called.
Raj jerked in shock, stared down at him, back at the crowd, then he lingered on Adam’s face. “A few.”
Chuckling, Adam unhooked the rope to join Raj at the top of the stairs. It also left him in the mob’s sights. If they didn’t solve this fast, there’d be more flying fruit.
Raj twisted his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “How are you…?” Wincing, he groaned. “The date. It’s Thursday.”
“As we never decided on a place, I thought I’d pick you up. But it seems you have bigger problems.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t forget, I just—”
“Shh.” Adam nearly took Raj’s hand before his skin twitched from the thousand angry eyes glaring both of them down. “We should appease the masses first.”
Raj nodded and haplessly swung around a wrench.
From the side of his mouth, Adam said, “I’ll punish you later.”
The wrench clattered to the ground, just missing Raj’s foot.
“People. Please!” Adam strode dead center, taking most of their wrath. Rather than wilt under it, he spun that anger into a cloak of fire. “As we all know, good things come to those who wait.”
“This had better be the best fucking haunted house in the world!” someone shouted.
Adam pursed his lips. “I don’t think we can get the permits for that.”
“What?”
Shaking off his banshee bordello joke, Adam smiled. “Never mind. We only need another ten minutes, then you will be free to be terrified until you piss your pants.”
“Ha! You can’t scare me!” one of the boys most likely to throw his girlfriend to the zombies shouted.
“Shall we?” Adam asked, extending his hand to Raj.
“You…but you’re dressed nice. And you smell so good.” His cheeks burned, and he shook his head. “I mean, I don’t know if we can fix it in—”
“Ten minutes,” Adam shouted. He wiggled his fingers between the gap in the door and frame, then pulled it open. “That’s all we need.”
“All we need,” Raj repeated as they slipped into the horror of a broken haunt.
Despite his profession and creepy hobbies, Adam had never been backstage at a haunt. It was barely a foot’s difference from macabre butcher shop to plywood facades and teenagers in pancake makeup.
“Mr. Choudhary?” One of the girls in a fright wig looked up from her phone. She tried to stand, but he waved her back down. “Are we going tonight?”
“Yes,” he insisted, before pursing his lips. “At least I pray so.”
Turning a corner, they passed a seance room. As they did, the lights flickered and UV pentagrams glowed all across the ceiling, walls, and floors. “And there’s the room to do it in,” Adam said off-handedly. “So, what’s gone wrong?”
“I swear, the whole thing was working not even an hour ago. All the electronics, the cues, even the fog machines.”
A blast of white smoke sputtered between Adam and Raj. Coughing, Adam removed his pocket square and covered his mouth. Raj raised his sweater, and they stared at each other through the fog. “Now it goes off whenever it wants. It’s like this place has a mind of its own.”
“Perhaps it’s actually haunted. Was this perchance a barn where a carnivorous farm couple communed with Satan?”
