Zombie Notes from Hel at 'Terror Behind the Walls'

I AM IN PRISON.

Eastern State Penitentiary's Cell Block 12, to be exact. One of the most haunted spots in the historic prison on Fairmount Avenue. The location of one of six haunted attractions at the prison's annual scare-fest, "Terror Behind the Walls."

I am the last person who should be here, and not just because I'm quickly learning that zombies are a surprisingly agile bunch. Seriously, my zombie-mate is doing push-ups between visitors while I'm trying not to choke on my own fake blood as I sweat through my costume, classic striped prison chic.

I don't like anything that goes bump in the night, thanks to a haunted house I lived in as a kid. Long story. But trust me, I'm a believer.

And yet, it turns out my competitive streak is stronger than my scaredy-cat streak, so when I'm pitted against colleagues from philly.com, the Inquirer and the Daily News for a chance to be made up into a zombie and work the prison's haunted attraction, I surprise myself when I go in for the kill.

In case my confession to previously dressing up as Tupac Shakur - complete with a Sharpied "Thug Life" tattoo on my abs - didn't make me a shoo-in, I court the sardonic-voting bloc by declaring I should win because . . . "I'm already dead inside." I shamelessly pull the gender card and ask readers to vote for the only woman in the running. All's fair in love and dress-up, boys.

And now, here I am - the winner! - my eyes stinging from the decaying zombie makeup running down my sweaty face, my heart beating as a group of visitors approach and I try to remember the scare lessons given to me by Amy Hollaman, the creative director for the 200-person cast.

Hollaman gives me the quick backstory to the "Lockdown" attraction I'm assigned to: Rioting inmates have taken over the prison, and the chaotic scene is filled with fog and arcing electrical currents from three oversize Tesla coils.

No cursing - it's a family event. No exceptions, not even for typically foulmouthed reporters.

Be on the lookout for good scare opportunities, usually when the visitor is looking one way, and you can surprise them by coming at them from another. Add grunts, growls, whatever guttural noises necessary to scare.

Listen for "Monster be good!" which means the visitor needs a break.

No touching, unless the visitor is wearing a glow stick that indicates they don't mind a gentle grab. But keep it classy. No inappropriate touching.

This is where I confess that I may have accidentally goosed a guy. In my defense, it was dark, I was in character and apparently even the undead have needs. Monster bad! Monster sorry!

Inside Cell Block 12, where aberrations have been reported, I try my best to keep up with my fellow inmate, Trey Oliver, a business major at Community College of Philadelphia. The guy is a beast, as he swings from the bars and jumps around as he scares the bejesus out of people - including me.

I channel my best deranged zombie and jump up and down alongside him, emitting various grunts and groans that sound more like I have to use the bathroom. I jump out of the two bendable bars in an effort to scare unsuspecting visitors, at one point hanging on too hard and popping one of the bars out. I try to remember to hit the button that surprises visitors with a frightening blast of air.

"Geeeet ooooouuuut," I growl to a group who don't seem all that convinced by my delivery.

Mostly, I try not to show I'm dead tired. After 45 minutes, Gary Reed, the attraction manager, takes pity on me and says I've scared enough people for one night.

Maybe he was just being kind, especially since later my editor says I looked more like Beetlejuice's girlfriend, but Reed says I have a future in scaring.

To prove it, he holds up an orange glow stick someone abandoned near my cage, an indication that they were scared out of the interactive experience.

"That's a win," he said, as we high-fived.

Boo-yah!

Phone: 215-854-5943

On Twitter: @NotesFromHel