"Exit Through the Freakshow." That was the name of track six on the album noise world order by Crusty Cory Jay. Vanessa found the song by scrolling through artists and albums on the player she and Kayson had pulled out of the stuffed rat until she found noise world order. It was just a hunch she had, and it proved correct. Every other song title on the album was a series of numbers, letters, and glyphs. All but "Exit Through the Freakshow." It had to mean something, so she and the other survivors headed for the broken-down building with the paintings of human oddities on its walls.
"God, I hope it's empty," Hannah said.
Vanessa looked at her. She felt the same way but didn't want to even acknowledge the notion. God forbid she jinxed it, not that she believed in God or jinxes, though after today, she wouldn't rule out anything.
Kayson lagged several paces behind, holding his chest and wincing with every step. The scratches looked angry—three bright red gashes, edged with pink irritation.
"You all right back there?" Vanessa asked.
"I'll thug it out." He grimaced and lengthened his strides.
Part of her wanted to chide him for trying to act tough, but at this stage, weren't they all just doing their best to keep their heads? Could she fault him for trying to shield himself from this nightmare? If he fell apart, if any of them fell apart, what good would that do? A whole lot of nothing. No, worse than nothing. It would make everything a lot harder.
"I just hope those fuckers aren't carrying any diseases or anything," he added.
"Yeah, for real," Hannah said.
Vanessa dug her fingernails into her palms again to ward off her mounting dread. So many hopes and so many worst-case scenarios shared by such a small group.
When they reached the boarded-up structure with all the faded paintings of sideshow acts, they paused. The doorway was a black, rectangular maw looming over them, frozen in a deceptively welcoming yawn.
"I wish I could see what's in there," Hannah said. "Hope it's not more rats."
There it was: the jinx. Vanessa wanted to smack her.
"Let's just get this shit over with," Kayson said and trudged forward.
Vanessa and Hannah watched him enter.
"I mean, he's right," Vanessa said. "It's the name of the song. It's the best clue we have."
"Unless whoever brought us here just wants us dead," Hannah said.
Again, the urge to smack her overcame Vanessa.
"If they wanted us dead, they just would've shot us." She stared at Hannah, daring the other woman to challenge her.
Hannah nodded and looked away. Together, they followed Kayson into the black.
For Vanessa, thresholds obsessed her at a young age. Entryways she'd previously passed through, such as her childhood bedroom or the door to her parents' house, held no gravity. But new doorways, new trailheads, new town limits gave her an incomprehensible, uneasy feeling she couldn't put into words. Something about crossing over into unfamiliar territory brought her a tremendous amount of anxiety.
It started her first year of kindergarten and continued well into the summer after first grade. Entering a new place had the ability to send her into a fit of tears, if not outright screaming. Other times, she stayed quiet so as not to disturb her parents. Those were the worst times, moments where she thought that even if she didn't end up in some hostile, uncanny place full of monsters or bad people, her repressed screams might make her burst into flames. In fact, half the time she was convinced she was on fire on the inside. She was burning up, and even if it wouldn't kill her right away, eventually, everything inside her would one day go to ash, and she'd just sort of collapse in on herself. No amount of therapy could convince her otherwise.
One day, thankfully, that overwhelming, troubled feeling about thresholds lifted as if had never been there at all, much like her mother's catatonic depression, though her phobia predated it. Up until now, she'd forgotten she used to have this irrational fear. Now, it washed over from the haunted darkness of her past and made her a scared five-year-old girl again. She stepped through despite this fear because intent could be a powerful shield, but inside she felt that burning sensation. The old fire had come back. In the near two decades it'd lain dormant, it had gathered the strength to become a blaze worthy of a natural disaster documentary. She would not cry. She would not scream. She would burn on the inside until the husk that remained fell in on itself, leaving the others in a cloud of ash and dust.
A small pale light filled the dark, musty hallway. Vanessa gasped, thinking that long-comatose internal fire had begun to burst out of her.
But it wasn't coming from her. She turned to where it originated and spotted Hannah holding a small pen light at the end of a chain. The necklace she'd mentioned. Vanessa no longer wanted to slap the woman. It didn't provide a ton of light, but it was better than nothing.
The beam illuminated a dark wood-paneled hallway. No freaks in sight.
"It doesn't look like it has an end," Hannah said.
Vanessa squinted to confirm this. It certainly appeared endless, but she didn't want to think about that. It needed to end somewhere.
"It's just the light," she said. "It's not strong enough. The hall has to end somewhere."
"Nah," Kayson said, not even trying to hide his weariness and dread. "Physics and shit don't mean anything. It could go on forever in here. Wouldn't be the weirdest shit we've seen all day."
"Should we go back outside?" Hannah asked.
They all looked toward the doorway. A dusty shaft of light lit it up like heaven's back door.
"We can't," Vanessa said.
"So, what do we do?" Hannah asked.
Kayson groaned and scratched the skin around his wounds.
"You probably shouldn't scratch those," Vanessa said.
"Let's see you try to do better," he spat back.
"What do we do?" Hannah asked.
The side opposite the entrance was a dead end. There were no immediately visible passages out of the hallway. The dead quiet of the passage was maddening. Vanessa dug her fingernails into her palms to stop the mounting panic.
"We just gotta keep moving," Vanessa said.
Hannah came up beside her, shining the flashlight ahead. "God, I hope you're right about this," she said.
"Yeah," Vanessa said. "Me too."
The women forged ahead, nearly arm-in-arm. Kayson followed close behind. His footsteps dragged on the concrete floor. Vanessa tried to ignore his ragged breathing.
No one else better die today, she thought. Please, no one else.