Horror Run's Final Boss Was My Uncle, the Butcher?

The steel door slammed behind me hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling. A red light blinked above it. Somewhere beyond the corridor, my sound rig crackled to life with a burst of static. I had installed that rig myself three weeks ago, and the static wasn't in the show file. "That's not supposed to happen," I said. Beside me, a woman in a silver jacket lifted her phone. The screen showed a red warning triangle where the signal bars should have been. "Is this part of it?" I didn't answer. I was trying the door handle. It didn't move. "Give it a second," said Nolan Voss through the speakers. The attraction's creative director had the smooth, reassuring voice of a man who'd never needed to reassure anybody he cared about. "The first lock is a timed effect. You're doing great." The six of us stood in the entry hall of the old Gallow Creek Packing Works, wearing numbered wristbands and matching black coveralls. On paper, we were a preview group testing the new Hollow Run: a three-hour, live-action horror game built inside a defunct meat plant. The company had advertised it as the most realistic escape experience on the coast. I was supposed to test the sound cues and make sure the emergency exits worked. I found the emergency exit sign. I didn't find the exit. "How long is the timer?" I called. "Thirty seconds." The silver-jacket woman snorted. "They really do put everything in the fine print." My wristband vibrated. A small screen lit up with a line of white text. WELCOME TO THE HOLLOW RUN. FIND THE EXIT BEFORE THE BUTCHER FINDS YOU. The woman beside me was Dani Price, a travel streamer with a ring light strapped to her backpack. She'd introduced herself in the parking lot while filming her arrival. The other four players had barely said anything. A broad-shouldered guy named Beck had already asked where the nearest camera was. A couple from upstate kept close to each other. The sixth, a quiet man with a gray beard, was still checking his watch. I raised my hand toward the ceiling speaker. "Nolan, this isn't the agreed test. Open the door." A pause followed, long enough for the timer to reach zero. The lock clicked. I pulled the handle. The door opened onto a narrow passage with stained white tile and a painted red line down the middle. It smelled like cold iron, wet concrete, and something sweet that had been left too long in a refrigerator. The attraction crew had insisted the old plant was completely cleaned out. The smell wasn't in my test notes. "Your move, audio girl," Beck said. "My name's June." "Fine, June. Lead the way." I stepped into the passage because the rest of them were watching me, and because my job was supposed to be keeping them safe. I tapped the tablet strapped to my wrist. The interface displayed three audio zones, all marked active. The first cue was a slow heartbeat. The second was a distant chain dragging across a floor. The third was silent. The corridor turned left. At the corner, an old butcher's hook hung from a chain. It swung gently, though there was no draft. The first scream came from behind us. Dani shouted and stumbled into Beck. The overhead lights had gone dark. A red bulb flared at the far end of the corridor, where a figure had appeared in a long leather apron and a pale mask. The figure stood with one hand on the wall, the other holding a broad, blunt prop knife. I knew the silhouette. I knew the heavy left shoulder, the way the head tilted before the voice came. I knew the tiny hitch in the left leg. "June," the figure said. The others backed away from him. I stayed still. "Owen?" The mask shifted. A strip of gray beard showed below it. "Get them out," my uncle said. "And don't follow the red line."