Blood Games

CHAPTER TWENTY

In case someone might be watching, they walked away from the lake and entered the woods. They didn’t go far, however, before turning north. Through breaks in the trees, they kept track of the lake and stayed roughly parallel to its shoreline.

Here, there was no path. They tromped through undergrowth, ducked under low branches, circled around brambles and deadfalls and boulders that sometimes blocked their way, climbed down and up the sides of shallow slopes.

Near the north end of the lake, they were stopped by an inlet. It was twenty or thirty feet across at the mouth, but from there the glassy water reached westward at least a hundred yards before it vanished under a field of reeds and lily pads.

‘Great,’ Vivian muttered. ‘Now what?’

‘Simple,’ Cora said. ‘We either cross here or go around.’

‘Going around would be a bitch,’ Finley said. ‘Let’s take a dip.’

‘Might be nice,’ Abilene said.

They made their way to the right, walking along the top of a fallen trunk, then hopping down and climbing out on a low clump of rocks where the inlet joined the lake. Abilene sat on a boulder and struggled to catch her breath.

Cora, hands on hips, stood at the edge of the outcropping and peered down. ‘Doesn’t look very deep,’ she said, and jumped.

Her splash showered Finley and Vivian.

‘Hey, feels good,’ Finley said.

Abilene got to her feet.

‘Deeper than it looked,’ Cora said. The water covered her to the neck. She dipped her head in, apparently just to get it wet, then swept a hand over her matted hair and began gliding toward the other side.

Halfway across, the water level began to lower. It uncovered her shoulders, descended her back. When it reached her waist, she turned around. ‘A piece of cake,’ she said. ‘And it’s nice and cool.’ Instead of continuing to the other side, she squatted and dunked her head again.

Finley leaped in, waving the plastic bottle and bag of chips overhead.

Vivian looked down at her white Reeboks. She crouched, untied the lace of her right shoe, hesitated, apparently changed her mind about removing her shoes, then retied the lace and stepped off the rock.

Abilene, afraid she might lose her moccasins in the water, took them off. Clutching them tightly in one hand, she jumped. The water swarmed up her body. She gasped at the unexpected chill of it. Her bare feet met slippery rocks on the bottom. They slid out from under her, but she grabbed a breath of air before her head plunged into the cold.

Once submerged, she was in no hurry to rise.

The water felt incredibly wonderful. She imagined steam rising off her skin.

But there was no time to waste, so she swam forward underwater, surfaced just behind Vivian, and saw that Cora was already climbing out.

As Finley and Vivian boosted themselves onto the rocks, she dropped into the coldness one more time. Then she scurried up the outcropping. She shook water out of her moccasins, slipped into them, and followed the others back into the shadows of the forest.

The water on her skin and clothes was like a cool shield against the heat. Making her way through the woods beyond the northern end of the lake, she felt refreshed and strong, and even found herself strangely optimistic about Helen.

Maybe they’d blown her disappearance out of all proportion. Maybe there was a simple, innocent explanation. She’d just gone wandering off. Thought she’d do some exploring. Come back later and pick up her shoes. Maybe she’d stretched out in the shade somewhere and fallen asleep. It was possible. She might’ve been too nervous — or hungry — to get much sleep last night. But in the light of day, and after eating half a bag of tortilla chips, drowsiness could’ve overcome her.

She might be wandering around the lodge right now, looking for them, worried sick, thinking they were the ones who’d disappeared.

Abilene considered mentioning this to the others, but decided to keep quiet. They would only point out flaws in her reasoning and depress her again.

As she followed them across a bright pasture, the sunlight baked the last of the lingering coolness out of her wet clothes and skin. Hot and sweaty, she realized her hopeful scenario about Helen was probably ridiculous. Nothing more than wishful thinking. She tried to hold onto it, but just couldn’t.

Helen didn’t wander off and fall asleep. She was grabbed and taken away.

We might never find her.

We might never see her again.

What’ll we tell Tony? The hell with Tony. He gave her all kinds of crap. He’ll probably be glad to be rid of her, the bastard. We’re the ones who care about her. We’re the ones who love her.

What’ll we do if…?

Cora suddenly leaped sideways and crouched against a tree. She raised a hand to warn the others. They rushed up behind her. Huddling near her back, they peered around the trunk.

At first, Abilene saw only more trees and rocks and bushes in the gloom ahead. Then she noticed some sort of platform surrounded by a railing of split wood. A rocking chair sat empty on the platform. Wooden stairs led down to a sloping ground. A porch? That’s what it was all right. And now that Abilene recognized it, she was able to make out the vague shape of the log cabin that hovered in the shadows behind it.

The bark of the cabin’s walls blended in with the trunks of the nearby trees. Its roof — if it had a roof — was hidden under a canopy of branches and leaves. The cabin seemed almost to be a natural part of the forest. As if it hadn’t been built by humans. As if it had simply grown there.

‘I don’t see anyone,’ Cora whispered. ‘Let’s check it out.’

Abilene half expected her to stride straight over to the cabin, but she didn’t. Instead, crouching low, she rushed forward about fifteen feet and ducked behind another tree. The others followed.

From there, Abilene could see a couple of old sheds behind the cabin. They were surrounded by a lush, sunlit garden. In front of the cabin, some distance beyond the end of its porch, was a long-handled water pump. The ground sloped down about fifty feet to the lake. A weathered rowboat, moored to the shore by a block of concrete serving as an anchor, floated under the droopy limbs of a willow. Its oars lay across the bow and center bench seats.

‘What do you think?’ Abilene whispered.

‘Sure looks like someone lives here,’ Vivian said.

‘It’s like a place out of one of those damn slasher movies Helen’s so crazy about,’ Finley said. ‘Where the crazy guy with the machete hangs out.’

‘Hope she’s in there appreciating it,’ Cora said.

‘Let’s find out,’ said Finley. She set down the water bottle and chips, studied the ground for a moment, then picked up a chunk of rock the size of a hardball.

Abilene’s stomach seemed to drop.

Cora had been lugging around the tire iron all morning, and Abilene had seen that merely as a sensible precaution. But now, Finley had found herself a weapon.

We aren’t just searching anymore, she realized.

Jesus.

This might be where Helen is. We might be about to find her. And we might be about to face whoever took her. A minute from now, we could be fighting for her life — and for ours.

Suddenly trembling, she glanced around the base of the tree. She spotted a rock half-hidden under the matted leaves and grabbed it. The chip of granite was as large as her hand, shaped roughly like the head of a hatchet.

Vivian picked up a broken limb. It was two inches thick and nearly a yard long.

‘Everyone ready?’ Cora asked.

‘Let’s rock ’n roll,’ Finley said.

They stepped out from behind the tree. Abilene was relieved to see that Cora, leading the way, wasn’t heading for the front of the cabin. The plan, apparently, was to circle around its rear and check things out before going in.

The wall of the cabin had a single window. It was open, but Abilene could see nothing through its rusty screen or the glass panes at the top.

She kept her eyes on it, fearing that a face might suddenly loom out of the darkness and push against the screen.

Finley, hunched over, broke away from the line and took one step toward the window before Abilene clutched the damp collar of her shirt. Finley glanced back at her. Abilene shook her head. Frowning, Finley shrugged. But she said nothing, and resumed her position behind Vivian.

They passed the rear corner of the cabin.

There were two windows, one on either side of the back door. Wooden stairs descended from the door to a path which led through the center of the garden and into the woods. Scanning the area, Abilene saw no one.

She watched the door and windows, only turning away from them when Cora halted in front of the first shed. It looked to Abilene like an outhouse. Its flimsy door had no handle and was latched shut by a hook and eye.

Cora reached for the hook.

My God, Abilene thought, does she think Helen’s in there?

Cora flicked up the hook. The door swung open, groaning on its ancient hinges. The draft of its opening swept out a miasma of hot, foul air.

Nothing inside but a bench with a hole in it, and a swarm of buzzing flies.

While the others stepped away from the foul aromas, Cora closed the door and hooked it shut.

They followed a path through the garden to the other shed. It was three times the size of the outhouse — a more likely place for keeping a prisoner. Abilene could picture Helen inside, sprawled on the dirt floor, bound with ropes, a gag in her mouth.

But Cora opened the door and nobody was there.

Peering into the gloom, Abilene saw shovels, rakes, hoes, a scythe, fishing gear and an ax. Shelves laden with bottles and jars.

‘Jeez,’ Finley whispered, ‘we can sure improve on our weaponry.’

They stepped into the shed. The hot, heavy air smelled sweet and musty.

Finley dropped her rock and picked up the ax.

‘I don’t know if you should do that,’ Vivian whispered.

‘Christ on a crutch,’ Cora gasped. She took a jar down from a shelf and looked at it more closely. ‘Chicken heads.’

‘What?’

They gathered around her.

In the dim light from the doorway, Abilene saw that the heads of at least half a dozen chickens were drifting about in the jar’s murky yellow fluid. She glimpsed their tiny black eyes, their open beaks. Then she looked away fast.

Vivian gagged.

‘Why would anyone want to save chicken heads?’ Cora asked.

‘Appetizers?’ Finley suggested.

Cora replaced the jar on its shelf. She lifted down another and held it toward the light. ‘Oh my God.’

Abilene took a quick look.

The things suspended inside the bottle looked back at her.

Eyeballs.

‘Holy shit,’ Finley said.

‘They probably aren’t human,’ Cora whispered. ‘Maybe from pigs or…’

The crash of an explosion slammed Abilene’s ears. She jumped. They all jumped. Cora dropped the jar. Ears stunned by the blast, Abilene didn’t hear the jar shatter. But it did. Warm liquid splashed her ankles. Eyeballs rolled.

The door of the shed slammed shut.