Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

Then we heard Barbara-Claire scream up ahead. It was long and loud, and Evie tried to back out of the maze. I grabbed her, though, and dragged her forward. “It’s fine. They get paid to scare you,” I told her.

“It’s working,” she muttered against my arm, where her face was pressed.

“Are your eyes closed?” I asked. Laughter burst from my throat.

“Maybe,” she said quietly.

“Come on,” I cajoled. I turned the corner, and a soft bullet from a Nerf gun hit me in the forehead.

“Sorry, Grady,” Jake said quietly. He was dressed in army fatigues that had fake blood all over them. “It was just supposed to whiz by your ear.” He motioned for us to keep going.

I rubbed at my forehead, which was still stinging.

We turned the corner, and someone ran toward us with a fake chain saw. It was one of those little kid chain saws like you find in a toy tool set but it made a loud racket. We kept walking, and even Evie laughed at the cheesiness of that one.

“This isn’t so bad,” she said.

We took a few more turns, hit some dead ends, had to backtrack and find another way, all the while taking in the grotesque scenes the Jacobsons had set up. Some of them were disgusting, while others were just fake blood spurting from open wounds. Evie relaxed.

But then someone reached through a hole in the hay and touched Evie on the shoulder. She screamed and flew at me. But when we got to the next turn, someone in a mask stood there with a huge knife dripping with blood, and she screamed again. She tried to climb me like I was a tree. I couldn’t walk with her hanging on like a spider monkey, so I pried her off and held her tight.

“You’re fine,” I said. “Everything is fine. I got you.”

She clung to me, but now it wasn’t fun. I caught sight of the look on her face in one of the characters’ flashlights, and I was suddenly afraid I was doing her harm.

“Just close your eyes, Evie,” I said as I held her. “I’ll guide you out. Just close your eyes.”

She tried it, but she immediately tripped over my foot, and when she landed and rolled onto her back, one of the zombie characters hovered over her, fake blood dripping on her as he let out a terrifying screech.

Evie screamed and crawled to a corner, where she proceeded to close her eyes and rock herself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She chanted, “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” as she huddled there in the corner.

“Evie,” I said as I squatted in front of her. “Come on, I’ll guide you out. You don’t even have to look at anybody. You’re all right.”

Suddenly Barbara-Claire was there with us, along with Junior. “She’s not all right,” Barbara-Claire said sharply.

“I can see that,” I snapped. “Come on, Evie. I won’t let anything hurt you.” But she was still chanting with her eyes closed. The only thing I knew was that I had to get her out of there. I bent, pulled her to her feet though she screamed and kicked, and I tossed her over my shoulder. I carried her all the way through that damn maze, knocking characters out of my way like I was a linebacker, smashing through all of them.

When we got outside, I found a quiet spot far away from everyone and I lowered Evie to the ground. Her teeth chattered and she stared at nothing. She refused to even look at me. So I sat next to her and pulled her into my lap. I rocked her as she lay there with her head on my chest, still shaking.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” I said. “I shouldn’t have made you go. I’m so sorry.”

She said nothing. But the longer we sat there, the more she relaxed in my arms. When Evie was finally calm, I looked up to find Mr. Jacobson, Barbara-Claire, Junior, and Evie’s grandma staring at us.

“She all right?” Mr. Jacobson asked.

“She’ll be fine,” I crooned near her ear, not at all sure if she was going to be fine or not.

“Let’s get her to the car,” her grandma said softly.

“I got her,” I said as I stood up with her in my arms. I carried her all the way to her grandma’s station wagon, and I didn’t let her go, even on the way back home. I held her right there in my lap. Her grandma didn’t even complain about us not wearing seatbelts. She just kept checking her rearview mirror to see if Evie was all right.

When we got to her grandma’s house, I took Evie to her room and laid her on the bed.

“You can go now, Grady,” her grandma said quietly.

“But—” I’d protested. I didn’t want to leave her.

“You go on home now,” she said and gave me a gentle but solid push toward the door. “She’ll be fine.”