His purple-draped buddy stumbles forward with fists clenched, ready to come to the aid of his friend, but Jax shakes his head. “Don’t do it. Just get your shit and leave.”
The guy sneers. “Fuck you, you fairly-loving faggot.”
He pulls back to take a swing, but Jax reacts with lightning reflexes. His leg flies up as his body pivots to counteract the motion of his boot colliding hard with Purple Toga’s temple. The guy stiffens then topples backward onto his ass. He slumps onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling, stunned.
Gunner glances down at him then looks at Jax. “You probably gave him a concussion. Serves him right.”
Jax takes a knee beside the guy. “I’m not as nice as my friend. Now, I promised my lady I wouldn’t get any blood on my costume, so you going to shut the fuck up and leave?”
The guy just blinks silently, his eyes wide.
Gunner gives Jax a come-here motion. “Get him up. I’ll carry him downstairs.”
Jax yanks Purple Toga guy off the floor and easily lifts his half-limp body, draping him over Gunner’s broad shoulder. Gunner stands, pulling the white toga guy up with him. He has the guy’s arm wrenched behind his back at an awkward angle and thrusts him toward Jax, who takes the guy by the back of the neck.
“Let’s go, asshole,” Jax says, pushing him forward. The guy doesn’t even make so much as one whimper of protest as Jax begins marching him toward the nearby door leading to the service hallway. Gunner follows right behind him, Purple Toga hanging over his back, looking at the crowd with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
“Shit,” says Zoey. “If I knew that’s all it would take, I would have asked sooner.”
I stand beside my best friend as the guys disappear out of sight with the security guard sheepishly in tow. I turn to Zoey. “I don’t think it caused too much of a stir, do you?”
“No,” she says with relief, doing a quick scan of the ballroom. “It looks like the music and dancing kept most people from noticing those two jerks. Plus, I texted Doctor Konwalski and asked him to begin his speech early to distract everyone.”
She raises on her tiptoes and looks to the south end of the ballroom. “I think he’s getting on the stage now.”
We fix our attention to the stage, where a tall, balding man is positioning himself behind a raised podium. The doctor begins by thanking the assembly for their attendance and praising some of the more outlandish costumes. Then he launches into a captivating history of the free clinic, mixing in laugh-aloud jokes with deeply moving stories of the many trials and tribulations they’ve been through in keeping the clinic afloat and trying to expand services for at-risk and low-income residents of the city.
All around us, people dressed as demons and angels are collecting pledge slips from the rapt audience, who are eagerly handing them over as Doctor Konwalski continues his heart-tugging stories.
I lean close to Zoey and whisper, “He’s really nailing it. People are going to be signing over their life savings with this speech.”
“Right?” she whispers back. “I’m so glad I got him to agree to do it. He’s a great speaker.”
A firm body presses against my back, and I know instantly it’s Jax, even before his tattooed arms wrap around me. I lean my head back to his shoulder. “Where’s Gunner?” I ask quietly.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He wanted to check out the haunted house across the street.”
I nod, and we turn eyes to the stage, but I’m having a hard time concentrating as soon as Jax’s fingers intertwine in mine. By the heat of his palm, I know that little taste of a fight has his blood flowing and he’s wound tight, and there’s nothing Jax likes more than fighting and fucking.
Doctor Konwalski continues on about the record number of patients the free clinic has been able to see this year, thanks to generous donors. As his speech winds up, a woman steps onto the stage and quietly hands the doctor an envelope.
“And now for the evening’s tally!” he announces.
Beside me, Zoey clasps her hands together hopefully, and I can tell she’s holding her breath. The clinic means the world to her, and if the numbers look good for this event, she’ll be over the moon.
On the stage, the doctor stares at the paper he’s withdrawn from the envelope then leans toward the microphone, a look of astonishment on his face. “Well, ladies and gentlemen… with all of your generosity, including a very sizeable anonymous donation, we have not only met our fundraising goal for the evening, but we will be able to completely retrofit our urgent care pediatric suite with much-needed new equipment.”
Uproarious applause greets the announcement, and I turn my head closer to Jax’s so I can whisper. “Do I even need to guess about the anonymous donation?”
His hands snake down my waist, pulling my ass firmly against his hips. “The guys and I might have pitched in a little something.” He lifts his chin toward my best friend, who is lit up with glee. “Look how happy she is.”
My heart is full as I watch Zoey wipe away a happy tear. Jax and I join the crowd in thunderous applause, and I give him a private smile of gratitude. He’d never admit it, but he has a tender little soft spot inside that dark soul of his.
Gunner appears back at our side. “It looks like they’ve done a great job on that haunted house,” he tells us excitedly in a low voice. “Zombies are recruiting people to come inside, and damn if they don’t look realistic.”
“The one they set up in the empty office space?” I ask as Doctor Konwalski thanks the crowd once again and exits the stage.
“Yeah,” he says. “I saw some pictures online. They set it up like the zombie apocalypse hit the building. Pretty kick ass. Wanna go?”
My whole body clenches up at the thought. “Uh, I don’t think so. You know I’m a big weenie when it comes to creepy stuff.”
“What are you talking about?” Gunner protests. “You binge-watched The Walking Dead with Jax, didn’t you?”
I turn my head and give Jax a narrow look. “He made me.”
“Made you?” That amused grin of Jax’s appears. “Oh hell, no. You’re the one who kept saying ‘just one more’, and you were practically crawling up my shirt the whole time.”
The lights dim again, and dance music kicks in as Gunner flashes me a flirty smile. “Having the Foxy Lady up my shirt? Now that sounds like a party. Let’s do this.”
“But…” I reach for Zoey, sending a pleading look her way. “Help me.”
“Uh-uhh,” she says, shaking her head. “Jax is right. You love to hate that horror shit. You’re going.”
I cross my arms and give her an angry pout. “Traitor.”
Zoey just rolls her eyes and tells the guys to throw me over their shoulders if needed. That at least serves to get me moving on my own, and before I know it, I’m crossing the street with Peter Pan and Tinker Bell and a few moments later, I’m getting hissed at by zombies as we enter the office building.
Only the twelfth and — ironically — the thirteenth floor of the building have vacant office space, so we’re herded over to a set of elevators which have been reserved for exclusive use of the haunted house this evening. We get into a short line and wait our turn.
One elevator opens, and a hoard of teenagers pour out. A few are laughing hysterically at the rest of the group, who look scared out of their minds, white as a sheet. Several costumed adults shuffle into the elevator to take their turn in the haunted house, and the door shuts with a ding as the wide-eyed teenagers flee the lobby.
“What the hell are you two getting me into?” I say with alarm, watching the teenagers exit the building and disappear into the night.
“You’ll be fine, babe,” Jax assures me.
I jump when a loud, shrieking zombie hiss just to my left startles me. I nestle against Gunner’s back and bury my face between his wings. Both of my guys are stifling laughter. I know they aren’t about to let me get out of this one.
The line moves forward, and I peek around Gunner.
A woman with long grey hair, ghostly makeup, tattered clothes, and a vacant look in her eyes approaches us. She has a hand outstretched and a ripped cardboard sign around her neck with ‘$20 a head’ written in permanent marker.
Jax reaches for the wallet he’d stashed in a leather pouch on his tunic’s belt and hands over a hundred-dollar bill. He tells the zombie-gypsy woman to keep the change then turns to me with a wicked grin.
“You know, when you tip? They tell the crew to make it extra scary.”
Sonofabitch.
I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to steel myself. If I die of fright before we make it to our swanky hotel room, that would really suck.
CHAPTER THREE
Emma
My heartrate is already speeding up as the elevator doors open for us, and my feet stay planted as Gunner and Jax step inside. Nope, my legs will not move me forward of their own free will. Not gonna happen. But the guys aren’t having it — they practically sweep me off my feet and pull me inside.
As soon as the doors close behind us, the elevator lights flicker, leaving us in utter darkness for a few seconds before creating a brief strobe light effect.
The elevator begins its ascent, and creepy sounds filter into the small carriage as it pauses randomly on different floors, leaving us in suspense as to when our ride will be over.
I never let go of the back of Jax’s shirt as creaking, scraping, and groaning noises surround us through the speakers. I know it’s just a soundtrack and that everything in the haunted house is a setup – but I’m already dreading it, and my imagination is running in overtime.
Especially when the doors open.
The lights are flickering out there as well, but it’s mostly dark. Within the occasional strobes, I can see the mangled chaos in the space beyond. Gunner nudges me, and I step out of the elevator with Jax so it can be sent back down for the next unlucky group.
A large open space greets us beyond the receptionist area. There are rows upon rows of partitioned cubicles, but everything is in disarray, like a decaying urban maze we must make our way through. Half the cubicles are knocked over and ruined with splintered frames and large gashes in the fabric padding.
Office chairs have been upended and thrown. Drawers have been pulled out and their contents strewn. It looks like someone has taken an ax to the desks, and there are streaks of red all over the floors and walls.
A loud bang from another room echoes through the space, and I jump. The sound is immediately followed by a terrifying female scream from somewhere in the distance.
Jax reaches behind his back to take my hand. “Come on. It’ll be okay.”
The broken office equipment and debris are piled up in a way that makes for only one path forward, directing us through the labyrinth, winding through the horrific mess that has been made of the working space. As we make our way through, the gore becomes more apparent.
Shockingly realistic body parts are strewn across the floor and inside the cubicles, catching the dim light with a putrid glimmer.
We pick our way through the ruined, rotting debris of the destroyed cubicles. I’m cringing as I hold onto Jax, expecting someone to jump out at us any minute. But the space is silent, eerily silent. The only sounds come from beyond the room — faint blood-chilling screams and sudden, echoing bangs in the distance. But in here, it’s so still and quiet I can practically feel the cold indifference of death kissing my skin.
My little black slip-ons that go with my Wendy nightgown are slick on the bottom, and I’m nearly skating through the trails of gore sprinkled across the path. My foot slips in a puddle of the mess, and I lose my balance, my legs flying out from underneath me.
I shriek as I grab onto Jax, trying to stay upright rather than landing face-first into bloody guts. Jax catches me under one arm, and Gunner’s hands clamp onto my hips from behind, steadying me just in the nick of time.
“We got you, Foxy Lady,” Gunner says.
And it’s a good thing they do, because I make my way through the rest of the open space with my eyes squeezed shut. I allow the guys to guide me slowly through the maze of office and zombie debris, only taking momentary peeks from narrowly squinted eyes before snapping them shut again, huddling between Jax and Gunner as we make our way forward.
“You going to keep your eyes closed the entire time?” Gunner asks. “Here, we’re getting into a hallway. This looks less creepy.”
I open my eyes just a little and squint at our surroundings.
The hall is wide and lined with glass-walled offices, and it is much better lit than the dark, open space behind us. There are still streaks of blood here and there along the floor and walls, and each of the doors is plastered with biohazard symbols and ‘Do not enter. Dead inside.’ scrawled in large, hasty penmanship. But it’s an otherwise fairly normal-looking office building environment. I breathe a little easier — until something thumps hard against the glass wall of the office to my left.
I stifle a scream and clamp down on Jax’s hand. My stomach clenches, and goosebumps break out along my skin as I turn to look. There’s a shadowy body pressed against the glass. The zombie is gray and decaying, leaving blood smears on the window as it propels itself forward again and again, trying to get at us.
I manage to croak out an urgent whisper. “Go, go, go!”
An audible chuckle comes from Gunner behind me, and I can feel the shaking of Jax’s silent laughter as I press myself against him. They keep walking me forward at a slightly faster pace, and I cringe as scraping, scratching noises come from my right.
Against my better judgment, I sneak a glance. There’s a dead woman, grey fingernails running down the glass wall, her blank stare fixated on us, her rotting mouth gaping open as she follows our movements. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the guys lead me forward. This time, I don’t peek as more bangs, rattles, and screeches come from the offices to our left and right.
“Almost there,” Jax promises, humor in his voice.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Having you pressed against me like this? I’m not complaining,” Jax says, a lilt of amusement in his voice.
“I promise, you don’t need a haunted house to make that happen.”
Jax turns around and walks backward so he can face me. “Gotta admit, the sadist in me is loving every second of you being this freaked out.”
I’m wracking my fright-addled brain for a snappy retort when a loud scraping, sliding noise comes from the ceiling and sudden movement in my upper peripheral vision catches my attention.
I scream, jumping backward into Gunner’s arms a second before a disintegrating body hits the floor right where I was standing, landing at our feet between us with a sickening, wet splat. The upper torso of the zombie-corpse claws at the floor, decaying entrails spilling from its waist, a hissing death rattle emanating from its chest that sends chills up my spine.
Jax watches it in amazement. “Holy fuck, that shit looks real.”
“It sounded real when it fell, too,” Gunner says, glancing up at the hole in the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.”
I’m shaking all over, my nerves frazzled as the undead half-corpse slithers toward me. “Oh, hell no,” I breathe, squishing myself against Gunner’s wide chest, trying to hold back the urge to kick it in the face.
“Come on, let’s go.” It’s Gunner urging us forward now, giving the zombie wide berth as he navigates us around it.
When we make our way to the other side of it, I push on Jax, who’s still looking at the damn thing with morbid curiosity. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Go!”
We make a run for it and barrel through a set of double doors at the end of the wide hall, which spits us out into a narrow corridor. The lighting is dimmer but still lit well enough to see that it leads to a T-junction with another hallway — one that looks completely dark.
As soon as the double doors close behind us, we all freeze, because groaning, hissing sounds grow louder as a grou
p of shuffling zombies begin passing through the T-junction at the far end of the corridor.
Jax instinctively crouches, making himself smaller and stealthy, and Gunner and I do the same on reflex. It’s crazy how real this all feels, like a zombie apocalypse has hit and we’re truly trying to survive being trapped in an office building with the undead.
In our frozen position, I dare to whisper, “How much longer until we make our way out?”
“We’re only on the first floor of this thing,” Gunner quietly reminds us. “From what I read online, it covers two full floors of the building, so I’d say we’re less than a third of the way.”
“Fucking hell,” I hiss.
Jax looks over his shoulder with a wicked grin on his lips, and I squint at him, letting him know I’m not very amused with being his source of entertainment at the moment. He studies me for a second then stands up and begins prowling along the narrow hallways, testing door handles.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, even though the last of the hoard of zombies has shuffled out of sight down the other hallway.
He doesn’t reply, but just keeps moving from one door to the next. Five doors in, one of the handles gives and he opens it far enough to check inside. He waves at us. “Come on, in here.”
I approach the doorway cautiously, Gunner right behind me. “There aren’t any dead bodies in there, are there?”
Jax shakes his head with a smile. “Just some reams of paper and toner cartridges.”
He flips on the light as Gunner and I enter, and sure enough it’s a just an office storage closet, half-filled with brand-new supplies for whatever business will be moving in once the haunted house is over.
Gunner closes the door behind him, and Jax flips the light off, plunging us into total darkness.
“What the fuck! Turn that back on,” I demand.
“No way,” he says. “Wouldn't want to ruin the mood.”
“What mood is that? The zombies are trying to kill us and everything is terrifying mood?”
“Yes, exactly.” His hands find me, working their way up my chest, his fingers coming to rest just under my left side of my breast. “Your heart is racing.”
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