Miles Marshall sweated. Sure, he'd had several independent divinations done, one by an actual Seer, and everything agreed that tonight was his best chance. And yet...despite his precautions, there was still an unavoidable element of danger, thus the sweat. Of course, the bright stage lighting was a factor as well, but it was mostly nerves. But there was no backing out now...the money wasn't an issue, but he'd used up years of favors preparing. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the wings.
When he came into view of the standing crowd before the large outdoor stage, his face was devoid of his backstage concern...he showed only the playful eyes and charming half-smile that had won him so many eager audiences already. And he looked smashing in his vaudeville-styled red tuxedo. But this audience didn't need much encouragement.
It was Halloween, the last night of the Midnight Woods haunt, and the finale of the three-week run. A majority of the audience was in costume...it was 20% off at the door for guests in appropriate dress, but the proprietors knew well that the semi-anonymity of costumes and party atmosphere would entirely make up the discount in additional sales of over-priced beer in plastic cups. Midnight Woods was not a "family-friendly" haunt, a reputation they enthusiastically embraced with alcohol, over-the-top horror and adult themes in their attractions. They even called them "Challenges", so not buying the full-ticket would seem like chickening out.
The show itself was a "Challenge", because he used audience volunteers, and the illusions were uniformly violent.
"Assorted ghouls and goblins, murderers and monsters, vixens and victims...are you ready for some more dark arts?"
The audience went wild with cheering.
---
Alex bitterly regretted coming tonight.
When she was seven, her mother had died in a car accident. Some drunk or drugged lunatic had run out in traffic, screaming about demons...when her mother had swerved to miss him, she plowed through the fence of a steelyard. Her airbag went off of course, but it did very little to stop the I-beam that took her head off, and not cleanly. Alexandra, who was wearing a Ghostbuster costume, her mother having vetoed Zuul as mildly inappropriate for a girl of seven...had been sitting in the back seat. She was never sure what happened to that costume afterwards, but she imagined, due to the stains, that it had been burned.
For some reason, she'd never much enjoyed Halloween after that.
In point of fact, she'd developed something of a grudge against anything even slightly connected to the so-called "supernatural". The man who'd caused her mother's accident wasn't around to blame directly...he'd been hit and killed by a truck shortly after her mother had avoided him. But the later investigation revealed that he'd been obsessed with the occult...diaries in his house claimed he'd summoned a demon and then was "forced" to kill people at a frantically increasing rate in his efforts to satisfy it. Though police found nine bodies in his basement, and suspected he might have killed others, from his behavior on the night of his death, it appeared he hadn't been successful and was now simply trying to flee. The autopsy didn't show any trace of drugs or alcohol or history of insanity, nor had he shown any sign of mental illness to his friends or co-workers, even during the period he'd been making "sacrifices".
The conclusion in the end was that he'd simply believed in what he was doing, despite the complete lack of evidence. So Alex had eventually made it her mission to show as many people as possible that the supernatural...most religion included...was entirely made-up, and any credence in it was both pointless and dangerous. She earned degrees in psychology, anthropology and even divinity, sharpening her mind's edge to the point that superstition fell before it like tissue paper. She'd written books, she had a website, she trolled other websites and wielded skepticism and reason like a scythe wherever she found ignorance.
But the books hadn't been published, and there wasn't much pay in being a professional skeptic. Nor did the vehemence of her views make universities eager to hire her as even an adjunct professor. Worse, her mission was failing...as the years passed, genuine belief in the supernatural seemed to grow more popular than ever.
So it was that she found herself 29 years old, working as a barista, and still crushed by student loan debt and depression. When her roommate had impulsively invited Alex to tag along yesterday, her defenses were at an absolute low, and having agreed, Maris refused to let her back out. Alex had put her foot down about the costumes, though, vetoing anything on her lengthy list of superstitious stupidities. Maris didn't really care, she was a struggling-actress creative type, and even after Alex outlawed even superheroes as "modern repackaging of ancient Greek religion", she had easily found something for herself. After rejecting a bunch of suggestions for her own costume, Alex had finally accepted one...albeit modified a bit...because it was entirely mundane and she could put it together for less than $20.
Maris was throwing back $5 beers like there was a shortage, bobbing her head enthusiastically to "Number of the Beast", which was playing on PA's by the stage during the intermission. She'd gone with "sexy clown"...for Maris, no costume was complete without the obligatory "sexy" prefix. Her makeup was flawless, her heart-shaped face white with curved black diamonds over her eyes and a bright red dot on the tip of her nose, her blonde hair in a pair of pigtails sprayed black and white for the occasion. Her costume itself was a white catsuit covered with black diamonds and stripes, plus white gloves and slippers. It wasn't lewd exactly...she was showing very little skin compared to a lot of women here, but the spandex left so little of her figure to the imagination that the effect was barely decent.
Meanwhile, next to her, Alex was scowling. Maris had suggested "sexy nurse", and Alex had simply steadfastly ignored the prefix. She'd even gone with the modern standard over the typical 50's white ensemble, so was wearing institutional-green scrub pants, a mauve scrub top with a blue flower pattern, and comfortable white sneakers she'd already owned. She'd done basically nothing with makeup or her chin-length black hair save a white plastic headband.
"Come on, Alex, you actually came out and even dressed up...sort of...I'm so proud of you! Can't you just try to enjoy yourself a little?" Alex knew Maris meant well, but wished she wouldn't try quite so hard.
"But I don't enjoy this," she said, a little more loudly than was necessary to be heard over the loud music. The pretty clown shook her head.
"That's the point of Halloween. You can leave yourself behind for a night, be scary, be slutty, do things you wouldn't normally, be whatever lets you just have fun. You're not Alexandra, Queen of moping, you're...uh...Nora, dedicated nurse! You're kind of tired because you just got off of a long shift at the hospital, and you didn't have time to buy a costume, but you're not going to let that stop you from enjoying a good party and hooking up with some dashing creature of the night." Maris punctuated this by holding her arm in front of her face just below her eyes, vampire-style, and gave Alex a smoldering gaze. Alex did her best to maintain her sour mood, but despite herself, she laughed.
"Ha! A smile and a laugh, progress! For my next trick, let's take 'Nora' for a spin with some light flirting..." She turned to a Batman and Dr. Horrible next to them, but before she could entangle Alex any further in an impromptu live-fire improv exercise, mercifully, the music changed to the show's steam-calliope tune, signaling the beginning of the second act. The magician came back out, and Alex's scowl returned like he'd summoned it from behind a handkerchief. He might be damnably attractive, but his choice of occupation made Alex loathe him a little. She deliberately ignored him in favor of openly studying the faces of the other people around her, trying do decide what psychological flaws they were falling prey to, what emotional needs were driving them here.
So it was a surprise when a bright light hit her, but after a moment's panic, she realized somehow Maris had been selected to join the magician on stage. The blonde ran forward, giving an excited wave and wink back to Alex, and eschewed the stairs entirely in favor of simply planting her hands on the stage floor and vaulting up sideways, quickly bouncing to her feet. The magician looked a little surprised, but laughed.
"A clown and an acrobat, eh? What's your name, little girl?" Alex made a disgusted face, but Maris giggled and played it up.
"Maris, Mr. Magician!" she said, in a sing-song voice a full octave higher than her usual alto.
"Well, everyone, help me thank Maris for coming up here to help!" There were hoots and whistles mixed with the applause.
"So, my dear...have you ever had things stuck into you?" More hoots, and Alex's disgust did not diminish. Maris cocked her head, then nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing everywhere.
"All the time!" She paused a beat and then smiled at the audience, a finger at the corner of her mouth. "At the doctor, when I'm sick!" She gave an obviously-fake cough.
"Well, you should do fine then," said the magician, after a brief chuckle. "If you would have a seat here," he continued, motioning to a simple vinyl and chrome chair slightly upstage. Maris sat, hands on her knees, angled slightly to the side with her shins parallel and toes pointed, smiling innocently. Alex wasn't sure why Maris hardly ever seemed to get acting work, she really was pretty good, within her particular range. Fierce competition, she supposed.
The performer picked up a box from a nearby table and set it down over Maris' head. The bottom edges of the sides were curved and padded, and rested apparently comfortably on her narrow shoulders.
"Oooh, dark!" she yelped, her words only slightly muffled. The magician wasted no time and began sticking knives into all sides of the box but the rear, most long enough and angled such that they emerged from the opposite side. The audience began to grumble and there were scattered boos, however. Alex wasn't very familiar with stage magic...she disapproved on principle, but few enough people thought it was real for it to be worth any effort debunking...but this trick did seem rather tame and obvious compared to the gory demonstrations in the first act. The magician noticed the audience's reaction, but seemed pleased rather than concerned.
"Hmm, you're right...this is pretty lame," he said, and lifted the box without removing any of the knives, tipping the bottom towards the crowd so everyone could see the ample empty space for the assistant's head at the back. He tossed it casually to the side of the stage where it half-collapsed in a clatter of plywood and dull aluminum knives. Maris looked a little surprised, then pouted prettily. "Don't fret, dear, you'll still have your Challenge..." He unnecessarily offered her a hand and helped her stand, then gave the chair a swift kick that sent it across the stage to topple over the wreckage of the dagger box. A stage hand dressed as a zombie came from upstage, pushing out a much more substantial chair, thick wood with armrests, plus leather straps and the metal skull cap of a traditional electric chair.
"Would this be more to your liking?" he asked the audience. The crowd roared in approval at the promise of more violent mayhem. "Care to sit, my dear?" he asked Maris, indicating the chair with a sweep of his arm. She looked rather uncertain now.
"Um, not really..." she said in her normal voice.
"Oh come now, you won't be electrocuted...there aren't even any wires connected...I just find the restraints convenient," he smarmed. Maris seemed to be wavering, but still unsure. Alex herself wasn't sure whether her roommate's sudden reluctance was genuine, or to raise her estimation of Maris' acting ability a few more notches. The magician didn't seem inclined to wait, however. He reached into a pocket and when his hand emerged there was a bright point of light pinched between his thumb and index finger. "Never mind that, just watch the light for me, okay?"
He held it up before Maris' face and started moving it left and right, up and down, then repeating the cycle. Maris eyes followed, and soon her whole head as he widened the movement. Finally, with one sharp gesture her chin dropped to her chest.
"Sleep!" he declared, and Maris remained motionless, head down and eyes closed, arms hanging limply at her sides. The light vanished back into his pocket. "Can you hear me, Maris?"
"Yes," she said, without raising her head.
"Look at me, but remain asleep." The clown obediently raised her face and opened her eyes, but her expression was vacant.
"Now, you are completely relaxed and calm, with no worries. Would you like to sit in the chair, and be even more comfortable, or would you like to go back to the audience?" His voice was low and liquid...Alex knew stage hypnosis was entirely bullshit, but she grudgingly admitted to herself that this guy knew how to sell it.
"I want to sit," she said in a dull tone. "The cute guy in the audience dressed as Dr. Horrible has been staring at me since I got up here, and I think if I'm in a real trick we'll hook up later and fuck." The magician looked almost shocked, and the audience lost it with laughter and hooting...next to me, Batman fist-bumped his buddy, but throughout Maris didn't even crack a smile. Alex shook her head. Trust Maris to somehow make a lewd joke while remaining entirely professional. Or half-joke, anyway...she was pretty sure her roommate would in fact happily lay this guy if he found her afterward, though she would've thought Batman was more her type.
Alex's attention returned to the stage. While she had been watching her costumed neighbors act out male bonding rituals, Maris had already been secured into the chair with straps at forehead, neck, chest, wrists, knees and ankles...there was no coquettish pose here, her legs were spread wide to reach the straps. All the better for the dominant thrill of simulated torture, Alex thought, cynically. Alex understood academically how people could find this entertaining, but she didn't think it boded well for society.
"I think we can say you're not going anywhere now," the magician said, and the audience cheered agreeably. He leaned in close to Maris' ear and whispered something that his mic didn't pick up, then more loudly added, "Wake." He touched her forehead with a fingertip.
"What the hell?!" Maris demanded, as the vacant look was instantly replaced by alarm. She strained at the straps, but they were not just for show...all she could really do was twist slightly. Meanwhile the magician had moved behind her and picked something up from another small table the stage-zombie had brought out. He brandished it, and the loud whir of a power drill floated over the crowd, producing another round of cheering. He tugged the glove off of her left hand, pinned against the armrest by the wrist-strap, and held the drill above it, the long inch-wide bit of the drill pointing down. Maris looked even more confused for a moment...then her mouth twisted into a half-smirk and she said something too quiet to hear. Alex wasn't a lip-reader, but she'd seen Maris' sarcastic, "Ha ha" often enough to make that much out. The magician just smiled, revved the drill and pushed it smoothly down into the back of her hand.
Maris eyes grew enormous, and she screeched.
Alex jumped at the sound and stared as bits of tissue scattered onto the floor and a steady stream of blood began to flow over her roommate's hand. The magician put his weight on the drill, and the grinding whirr of the motor changed tone, then again when the tip of the bit emerged from the underside of the armrest. More blood and tissue dripped out. The audience loved it, chanting "more, more". Tears streaked Maris' makeup, but her face was twisted into a mask of fury.
"Fuck! Aaaah, fuck, fuck you Miles, when I get out of this I'm going to hurt you! Fucking asshole!"
"Sticks and stones," sang the magician in a whimsical tone. He left the drill where it was, where it wobbled slightly due to Maris' renewed struggles, and picked up another, with an even longer bit, plus something else in his other hand, hidden by the angle of his body.
"Oh, I'll find a stick, and I'll ram it so fucking far-mfnggg..." Maris' fervent curses were cut off as the magician took advantage of her mostly-open mouth on "far" to push a light bulb into her mouth.
"Hush now...and careful, these old bulbs are so fragile," he interjected. Maris' glare was pure irritation, but her eyes widened again, became almost pleading as he pressed the bit of the second drill firmly against her cheek. Maris began to thrash wildly...she barely moved her cheek an inch, though her bucking actually made the heavy chair itself wobble for a moment.
Alex's mind warred between disgust over the show, admiration at the sheer physicality of Maris' performance, and buried in some deep place she'd never have admitted existed, a tiny cold fear that she didn't know how these "tricks" were being done. The crowd was insane, chanting "drill, baby, drill!"
The magician shrugged and smiled beatifically, giving the impression he was only proceeding because of the simple joy he brought to others. He revved the drill and pushed.
More blood spattered, and a horrific gurgling scream burst from Maris as the drill shattered the light-bulb on its way through her face and out the opposite cheek. Her eyes were agony and tears, widening in further panic when the magician let go of the drill. She jerked and managed to angle her face slightly, enough that the drill's battery pack was braced on her shoulder, relieving pressure on her cheeks. But her mouth was still mostly open, and past the constant dripping of blood down her chest and the remaining shards of light bulb, the bit was visible, her bloody tongue trapped beneath it.
Alex wasn't sure she could watch any more of this, even knowing it was all fake. But she could vividly imagine her roommate's teasing disappointment later when Alex admitted she'd turned away during her virtuoso performance. Gosh, 'Lex, and here I thought you were Mistress of the Rational Mind...I'm sorry it was too much for you... A surge of masochistic stubbornness forced her to keep her eyes fixed on the performance as Maris' chest heaved with desperate oxygen, occasionally broken by a wracking cough and spray she expelled half-inhaled blood.
"Almost forgot, safety first!" The magician crowed, as he donned a pair of plastic goggles from his pocket. He moved behind Maris to the table one last time and emerged holding an enormous two-handed drill meant for concrete or something. He raised it above his head with slight difficulty, and shouted, "What do you want?!"
"Blood!" answered the audience.
"What do you want?!!" the magician repeated.
"DEATH!!" came the scream from hundreds of throats. Alex, buffeted on all sides by the noise and blood-lust, thought she might actually be sick.
The magician yanked the trigger of the drill all the way, stepped behind the chair and then leaned forward. For a moment, Maris' pain-filled eyes seemed to find Alex in the crowd, boring into her with a dark intensity. They filled with pain again and her face twisted, one eye shut, the other rolling back in her head, and then both sprang open fully as her costume tore over the center of her chest and the enormous drill bit thrust out, spraying fans of blood everywhere.
Her jerking struggles stopped instantly, and her open eyes became cold and empty.
As the audience went wild, the zombie stagehand pushed the chair back into the wings of the stage, as he had all the previous victims that preceded Maris. The magician, front and center, just soaked up the adulation while wiping his face and hands with a fluffy towel, a broad grin plastered on his face.