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Sickly green light danced on the surface of the water. Invisible currents dragged on tattered cloth, caressed his skin with cold. Rubbery bodies brushed against his as he floated towards the sounds.
Human voices filled the dim void of the room, whispering and giggling.
“Okay, this is neat. I like the atmosphere.”
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, barely audible over the chatter.
He kept the quiet litany of misery going as he moved closer to the slim bridge connecting the entrance with the exit. A single louder splash echoed through the room, finally drawing the girls’ attention to the murky water below them.
“Are those people in the water?”
He prepared to pounce.
“Don’t be silly, they’re just figurines.”
They didn’t know how right the first speaker was, and they were about to find out.
Regulus pounced.
“Please forg-ACK!”
Working at a haunted house came with a significant risk of bodily harm by frightened customers. He was prepared for it. But bloody hell, this cunt got him good.
He stumbled back, and with his hands pressed to his face he lost balance and dropped on his arse in the shallow water.
The group of girls didn’t stop screaming, though the pitch turned from scared to exclaims of “Lily!” and “Oh my god you kicked it,” and “It’s a person?!” and “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
Somebody jumped over the low railing of the bridge. A pair of hands grabbed at his body, warm where they met his skin. The water was kept lukewarm, and after several hours of floating in it he felt as cold and un-alive as the rubber dummies paying him company.
“I’ll be good,” he gasped through the pain. “Could you help me-”
She helped him to his feet and together they waddled towards the steps, where the emergency light switch was. He flipped it. The room filled with cutting white light, and they all spent a couple seconds letting their vision adjust. Regulus was shielding his eyes with both hands. Blinking was agony, and he got some of the pool water in his good eye, which was simply perfect since the maintenance crew tended to go heavy with the chlorine (despite the repeated complaints).
“May I have a look?” the girl asked, coaxing his hands away from his face.
“Please, do.” He would go to the hospital either way but having at least a vague idea of the damage would be nice.
She guided his face to look up; he didn’t notice before but she had to be really tall. Fingertips pressed on the left side of his nose and left cheekbone, inspected the eyebrow. He bit his lip to not hiss in pain. He failed when his eyelid was pried open gently, the light hurting him more than the prodding fingers.
“I don’t think anything is broken, but you’re bleeding in the eyeball. Do you have a doctor around?”
“We have a first aid nurse,” Regulus covered the bad eye again and squinted at the red blurred blob in front of him. More multi-colored blurs were gathered around them.
“May I?” the darkest blur asked, and he uncovered his eye to let her see. The ‘oh crap’ that followed was not reassuring.
“There’s a bathrobe and dry clothes in the locker over there,” he said, more as a warning for the girls that he was about to strip his costume than a request for them to grab the dry attire.
“Got it,” one of the girls said and rushed to grab it.
Getting out of the wet sticky tattered dress one-handed was a struggle, especially since moving his head was making him want to die, but the redhead helped him. He tried to not be embarrassed by it. Or the fact he was wearing nothing but sweatpants, a bathing robe and flip flops in the presence of five women (and two groups of visitors who passed through the Cave Room before the ordeal was over).
“Thank you for your aid, I’ve got it from here. You can go enjoy the rest of your spooky experience!” He’d been aiming for cheerful, but his customer service voice has always been lacking.
“I think I’m spooked enough for the day,” said a dark blob who was turning out to be a pretty tall black girl with heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of her head. She was met with a chronous of agreement from the rest of the group, who were all also wearing heart-shaped sunglasses. They were about his age; and two of them were both wearing hoodies from one of nearby universities.
Regulus flipped the emergency lights off and led his new entourage to the ‘backstage’ of the haunted house, which was as much if not more a death trap than the attraction itself. The redhead who kicked him fell in step with him.
“I didn’t know I would do that,” she apologised once more.
“It’s fine,” he reassured her. “It’s been a week since I had as much as a broken nail, something was bound to happen. The Inferi Cave is actually one of the safer spots if you can believe it.”
The looks she gave him was most incredulous. “One of the safer spots? You’re kidding me, right.”
“I wish I were,” he opened the door leading to the beautiful bright outdoors. “When I was serving the Death Eater duty - Death Eaters are the jumpscare guys in black cloaks and skull masks, they get beat up a lot since there’s nothing standing between them and trigger-happy pricks. Or my first season working here, some dick set Montgomery on fire…”
For years to come, Regulus would blame a concussion he didn’t have for accepting Lily’s offer to drive him to the hospital. He would cite dizzy spells as the reason why he didn’t suggest she waited in the café across the hospital instead of following him to the ophthalmologist’s waiting room. He would blame the painkillers for his loose tongue. He would blame the non-existing concussion for inviting her for a cuppa when she was dropping him off at his place.
There was nothing and no-one but himself to blame for the spontaneous Pride and Prejudice (1995) marathon. Falling asleep on her was an honest accident, though, and the horseback riding lessons they signed up for the next morning were entirely on Lily.
Regulus had never expected to fall in love. It just didn’t sound like something he’d do, like something he could do. And yet all it took was a kick in the face and five years for him to be flat on his arse.