As we arrived for work the next day Susan told Chris and I to go see Uncle Morbid, who would tell us about our roles going forward. I was seeing her with new eyes now she'd dropped the clueless boss act, even though very little about her actual demeanor had changed. In light of Uncle Morbid's revelation that real death was possible here when we stopped choosing life, coupled with Susan's barely concealed glee at burying us alive, I was forming suspicions about what her actual role was.

When we got to Uncle Morbid's office, there was someone else there with him. It was the man I'd seen watching us the previous day.

"Hi Lexie, Chris, thanks for coming by," Uncle Morbid began. "To begin with, I'd like you to meet Wilco, he's an artist and effects designer you'll be working with going forward. He's been with our organisation for many years but has been away on business much of the time you two have been here."

As we shook hands, I remarked that I'd noticed him.

"Yes, sorry I didn't introduce myself, but you were busy getting buried," he said. "You did great, by the way, it looked amazing."

He gave me a conspiratorial wink.

"When did you realise the breathing tube didn't actually do anything?" he asked.

"I had my suspicions," I replied. "But it's not the sort of thing I would have put to the test on purpose."

"That's how it works here, they put you in positions where you'll figure out the next level stuff for yourself," Wilco explained. "It keeps the universe interesting."

"Are you like Uncle Morbid, or Susan?" asked Chris.

"A custodian, you mean? No, I'm a mortal spirit like you," said Wilco. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I've heard you're a bit of a tech wiz."

"Wilco has been working on developing the Jungle for us, you can think of him as our head gardener," said Uncle Morbid. "Amongst other things he's been working on some animatronic creatures to dot around. So far they haven't done a lot besides move a little and add to the scenery, but we're gradually making them interactive, and carnivorous. I'm hoping to combine Wilco's designs with Chris's tech skills to make this happen. And I want your input too, Lexie, because you and Maise have an incredible sense of drama and psychology. I'd like to see how you apply that to people-eating monsters."

Wilco took Chris and I to see his workshop, which was set up in a small building out on the edge of the woodland area known as the Jungle, reached via a dirt track which we drove up in Wilco's pickup truck.

"How much of the Jungle have you guys seen?" asked Wilco.

"I got here halfway through last season, so I saw a bit of it," said Chris. "Scott was going to show me how to prep the quicksand pools for this season. I don't think Lexie's been yet, though."

I confirmed that this was true.

"Well, it might have changed a little since you last saw it, Chris," said Wilco. "To tell you the truth, the Jungle is a work in progress. What we had last year was basically the main area by the lake, the quicksand pools and a couple of clearings where we ran deathplays. But this year we want to turn it into something incredible, and you two are going to help me do it."

Wilco's workshop looked like a regular artist's studio, with dried paint dotted about, hand drawn plans scattered about the walls and mesh mock-ups of various animals on the shelves. One of the plans was for a serpentine sculpture headed with the title "Sadie Coils". There was a large map of the area dominating one wall, scrawled over with notes and concept drawings.

The Jungle covered about 700 hectares of woodland, with a small lake at the centre fed by a stream flowing through a boggy area on the northwest side, flowing out again down a weir on the south side to join a channelled stream off towards a nearby river. There were wooden walkways all around, which led us through an area of boggy woodland to a wide open area by the side of the lake. There was a log cabin bar area surrounded by cabanas, with a small building tucked into the trees – this turned out to be a toilet and shower block. There was a paved area in the centre of the square and a small pier leading off into the lake with winch arms set up on the end.

"This is where we base the outdoor Masquerades during the summer," said Wilco. "Some games and deathplays take place right here in the main square and lake, then we have a few other locations dotted around that I'll tell you about as we get to them. As Uncle Morbid said, the animatronics right now mostly decorate the walkways, but there are a couple of working prototypes that do more."

We saw some of the animatronic animals lurking in the bushes by the walkways. With the power off, they stood still like hidden statues.

We turned off on to a path leading towards a clearing. By the side of the path was a large plant with huge flat, spiky leaves spreading out from a central disc, like a sunflower without petals.

"This is one of the prototypes, a kind of carnivorous plant," said Wilco. "I want to eventually turn this area into a garden of people munchers of different kinds. You'll see one of the big projects in a moment, I built this one to try out some basic mechanisms."

He looked at Chris and I.

"If you want to try it out, you will get a little wet", he warned. "Just water at the moment, but later we may use chemical formulas so you get an experience like you're actually being digested."

Chris and I looked at each other. We were both still in our office clothes, not knowing we'd be working outdoors today, but I'd long accepted getting a little messed up as a part of working here. I made my way towards the installation.

"Step on to the plate in the middle and stand upright," called out Wilco.

As soon as I stepped on to the plate I heard the faint sound of springs engaging and the flat leaves swung up around me, trapping me inside. Little rubbery spikes pushed against my body from every direction, as I stood helplessly I began feeling damp all over. Gradually I realised the spikes were each dispensing a small but steady flow of liquid, gradually soaking me through to the skin. Water or not, it actually did feel a lot like being digested, certainly enough to suspend disbelief and commit to the scene.

Wilco's muffled voice drifted in from outside.

"Now, under normal circumstances you'd be stuck in there for some time, until we got the stagehands to release the mechanism and take you off to Limbo. But we need to be moving on, so let's get you out of there."

The side leaves fell back to the floor and I rejoined Wilco and Chris. I was a bit cold and soggy in crumpled wet clothes, but otherwise none the worse off. We carried on towards the main clearing.

There were twelve wooden torch holders set around a wide central area, marking out the location for some kind of ceremony. At the centre of the clearing was a construction like a squat tree about nine feet tall with a wide bowl on top. There were large spike covered leaves trailing down the sides onto the floor.

"This is based on the Madagascan Man Eating Tree, or Sacrifice Tree. It was described in a hoax 19th century journal that told of a tribe that would sacrifice young women by making them drink the plant's juices from the bowl at the top. If they were lucky, they'd make it away again safely. But if not, the plant would immobilise them and chew them up in the spiked leaves. Whether true or not, and of course it isn't, it's still a fantastic story perfect for our purposes."

The sculpted tree definitely looked imposing in the centre of the clearing and would doubtless look even more effective by torchlight. The spiked leaves reminded me of the iron maiden I'd been shut in for my Masquerade debut. The thought of it being alive and waiting to devour willing victims was captivating, especially after my recent encounter with the plant's smaller sibling.

"Could I try it?" asked Chris.

"This one's not working yet," said Wilco. "But when it is, I'll let you be the first to feed it."

We made our way back to the main walkway and carried on around the lake. Soon the path reached the edge of the trees and opened on to a large open field. Over to the left, in the direction of the main buildings, was a large covered structure with logs stacked up around.

"We use this field for events requiring a larger open space," said Wilco. "Over there is the timber yard. I don't think I need to tell you what's in there."

Big saws and conveyor belts, I thought. That reminded me, I still needed to help Debs set up her swansong deathplay. She'd specifically asked for something with sawblades.

We crossed a bridge over the weir at the edge of the lake and carried on around. Heading back into woodland, we passed another grass clearing currently containing nothing of interest, then detoured down a concealed path to reach a pit enclosure built around a small cave covered by a mound of earth and vegetation. Inside sat a large model python, staring mournfully back at us.

"Allow me to introduce Sadie Coils," said Wilco. "She's one of my more ambitious projects, right now little more than a decorated tube over a flexible skeleton. She's big and bendy enough to 'eat' an adult human, but at present it's just like crawling through a play tunnel. When we get done, she'll be completely alive."

I looked at Sadie's dead eyes and tried to imagine her animated. Wilco obviously had a plan in mind to have gone this far and his aesthetic work was top notch.

We carried on over a waterlogged bog next to a wide stream flowing down towards the lake. Over a small bridge was a wide, flat, sandy area.

"This bog is thick sinking mud, easily deep enough to submerge above your head," Wilco explained. "And up that way are the quicksand beds."

Wilco strode across the bridge and stepped out onto the sandy patch, which completely failed to give way under his weight.

"Or at least it will be once we get them set up."

Upstream was a small pool filled with river weed and lined by vegetation. The stream flowed in over a small rocky waterfall, the momentum carrying and dispersing through the pool in little eddies and currents.

"We call this the Weeping Brook,' said Wilco."It was named by one of our spirits, who did a drowning deathplay based on the suicide of Ophelia."

The shape of Wilco's workshop appeared through the trees as we made our way back, passing over a small marshy area. At the edge of the marsh sat a large bullfrog statue, about two metres tall. There was a ridiculously conspicuous lily pad placed directly in front of the huge amphibian.

"Here's another working prototype, this is Big Gulp," said Wilco. "Hey, Chris, still up for being eaten today?"

"Sure. What do I do?" asked Chris.

"Go stand on the lilypad and wait."

Chris stepped out into the marsh, his shoes sinking slightly into the wet ground. He stared transfixed at the giant frog as he approached the lilypad. As he reached it and stepped into position, Big Gulp's mouth opened slightly, the eyes swivelling to stare directly at him. Chris looked back at us nervously.

"Big Gulp's on a delayed switch now," Wilco whispered to me. "Just watch."

Suddenly the frog's huge mouth opened and it lunged forward, the front legs pivoting from their anchor points in the ground. Chris gasped at the rapidly approaching gaping maw, he told me later he'd found himself gazing into a cavernous, fleshy mouth glistening with slime. As he was pulled in, the frog pivoted back and its mouth closed on Chris' flailing feet, which slid out of sight into the creature's belly.

"Again, he'd be in there for a while if this was an actual deathplay," said Wilco. "So let's imagine an hour or so has passed and it's time to get him off to Limbo."

We went around behind Big Gulp, where Wilco found a discreet zipper and pulled it down, opening a large slit in the frog's backside. Inside we found Chris curled up in a tight chamber padded with soft padded vinyl. He was a little soggy and dishevelled, but was giddy with delight as we pulled him out.

We went back to Wilco's workshop, where we made some warm tea and towelled off.

"So, what do you think?" asked Wilco.

"Amazing!" said Chris. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow," said Wilco. "You'll be mostly based up here from now on, though Uncle Morbid will call you back to the house whenever he needs you for something, especially when the Masquerade needs setting up."

So Wilco's our new Susan, I thought. I'll take that trade.

"As you probably realised, it's a good idea to bring a change of clothes or two, we will be doing a lot of mucky work," Wilco continued. "But you're also part of a creative team, so if you have any ideas I really want to hear them. Actually, talking of clothes..."

He turned to face Chris.

"From now on, I want you to dress as yourself," he said.

Chris gave a double take.

"How do you mean?" he said.

"Forgive me if I've got this wrong," said Wilco, "but this nondescript menswear thing you've got going on just doesn't look comfortable on you. It might have been right for working in the office under Susan, but if we're working together on an art project I need you to be able to express yourself. Like you did yesterday, and when Didi the Doll made her entrance. I saw the film of that, by the way. You looked fantastic."

Wilco was hinting at what Maise and I had always known ever since our schooldays, when I'd swap my skirt for Chris' trousers on the way home.

Chris and I were both gender non-conforming, but while I'd fought to be myself because convincingly passing as normal wasn't an option (tried it, fooled nobody, got bullied mercilessly), Chris was never a scrapper. He didn't have the self-confidence to fight back like I did, so he kept his head down and waited for permission to play dress-up. We'd lived in a rough town that punished anyone who emerged from the closet, but the hardest closet for Chris to leave was the one he placed himself in.

When Chris was with me and Maise, he could be himself. Or, more accurately, herself.

"Now, I'm not trying to define you," Wilco went on. "Boy Chris, girl Chris, in-between Chris, trans-Chris, cis-Chris, only you know how you identify. But I'm betting that in your wardrobe at home, you've got all your normal work clothes on one side, and then on the other side are the clothes you'd wear day to day if only you thought you could. For tomorrow at least, I'd like you to dress from that side of the wardrobe."

The look on Chris's face confirmed that this was absolutely the case.

"Thank-you", he said. "I will".

—

"You look like you've been through the wars today," Maise said as she came to pick me up, looking over my damp crumpled clothes and mud spattered hair.

"Yeah, I got eaten by a plant. It was fun."

I told her all about Wilco, and our new assignment over in the Jungle.

"So that's who that was," she replied. "I've heard about him from various people but never actually met him. I hope I'll get to soon, he sounds cool. For tonight, though, Debs has invited us over for dinner if you're up for it."

I was definitely up for that, once I'd had a chance to shower and get changed. We had a lot to talk about.