Blood Games

CHAPTER FORTY

Jim gasped, ‘Hey!’ His flashlight followed Vivian as she flung herself sideways, diving for the floor, and Cora launched the shotgun.

Abilene braced her legs. She reached high. The shotgun came down at her fast, stock to the left, muzzles to the right. It smacked her hands. She grabbed hold as the impact knocked her back a step.

Light stabbed her eyes.

‘Oh no ya don’t!’ Jim yelled, charging her.

She clamped the stock to her left side, searched for the trigger, swept the barrels toward the blinding light only a yard in front of its muzzles. Found the trigger at the same instant something hit the barrels with a ringing clang and the light went dead.

The shotgun lurched sideways as she pulled its trigger.

The detonation crashed, stunning her ears.

In the muzzle flash, she glimpsed Jim leaping at her, the barrels off to his side, his arms up, the dark flashlight in his right hand, the knife in his left.

Even as she caught the brief look at him, the recoil of the blast was ramming the shotgun up and back, jerking its forestock from her grip, snapping her trapped index finger with its trigger guard. She cried out in pain and then Jim hit her.

The weapon flew from her side.

Jim plowed her through the blackness. She felt his arms wrap around her. She slammed the floor, the knife and flashlight pounding into her back. She grunted with the impact. Jim gasped and she knew he was hurt — at least a little — at least his fingers.

‘What’s going on?’ Cora’s voice, sharp with alarm. ‘What’s happening down there?’

She got no answer.

Jim struggled to pull his hands out from under Abilene.

She punched the side of his face.

The knife turned. Its edge pushed against her. She bucked, trying to throw Jim off. And shrieked as the blade ripped across her just below the shoulder blade.

‘Abilene!’ Cora called.

The flashlight was still under her back but the knife was gone.

‘Viv? Finley?’

She flung her arm up, hoping to ward off the blade, not knowing where it was.

From off to the side came quick footfalls and huffing breath.

Jim yelped and tumbled off her. There were thumps, gasps.

Abilene rolled over, scurried toward the sounds.

A smack like a fist hitting flesh. A grunt. A whimper from Vivian. More sounds of blows landing against skin.

She hurled herself forward, arms spread. Her cheek bumped something. She clamped her arms tight around the body in her way, realizing her mistake when she felt breasts against her left arm, realized that Vivian had been on top of Jim.

Together, they plunged through the darkness. A quick thud jolted Vivian. She flinched and went limp, but fell a little more before the floor stopped her and her shoulder rammed Abilene’s cheek.

Abilene’s left hand was trapped under Vivian’s armpit. As she pulled it free, wincing at the pain of her broken finger, she reached up with her other hand. Touched Vivian’s face, her hair. Found the wood of a support post.

I drove her right into it!

‘Hold on!’ Cora called.

And Abilene felt fabric rub against her shin. One of her legs was on Vivian’s leg, but the other, she suddenly realized, was stretched across Jim.

Why hadn’t he grabbed her yet?

Had Vivian been up there, pounding on him so hard that she’d dazed him?

He must still be out of it!

Pushing herself off Vivian, she scurried backward and dug her knee into the denim. Jim let out a grunt. As she crawled onto him, she heard a distant thump, a surprised cry of pain, then loud tumbling sounds.

‘Cora?’ she shouted.

‘Shit! Shit!'

She straddled Jim. He squirmed, but so far he wasn’t striking at her. She slid her hands over his chest, felt it rising and falling as he panted for air. The rope suspender didn’t seem to be there, but that wasn’t what she was searching for. She found his shoulders.

The knife had been in his left hand.

‘What’s happening?’ Cora called. Her voice sounded shaky.

Abilene ran her right hand down Jim’s left shoulder and along his arm. The arm was sticking straight out away from his side, bent at the elbow. She slid her hand up the slick skin, past his wrist to his bunched fingers. She didn’t need to feel the knife to know it was still in his fist. She pinned his wrist to the floor.

‘I think I’ve got him,’ she said.

‘Hope so,’ Cora answered. ‘Wrecked my other fuckin’ leg.’

‘Just stay put. I’ve got him.’

‘Where’s Viv?’

‘Over here. I think she’s knocked out.’

‘Shit’

Keeping Jim’s knife-hand tight against the floor, Abilene hunched down and pressed her left forearm against his throat. She pushed.

‘What’re you doing?’ Cora asked.

‘Strangling the bast…’ The blow caught her just above the hip. Her breath burst out. She felt as if her side had been caved in, but she stayed on top of him. When he started to buck, trying to throw her off, she dropped down against his chest and thrust her arm as hard as she could against his throat. He punched her again, this time hammering her rib cage.

And his knife hand got free.

In an instant, the blade would be driving down into her back.

She flipped herself off Jim — away from the knife — and hit the floor rolling.

Jim growled. She heard him scuttling after her.

She rolled over again and again until a post blocked her across the belly. She dropped onto her back, sat up, glanced into the darkness toward the sounds of Jim rushing closer, then hurled herself over to her knees and scrambled up and ran.

Ran and saw twin patches of dim gray light off to her left and dashed toward them.

Windows.

The two at the rear of the dining area?

She wasn’t sure, didn’t care. They were a way out.

If Jim doesn’t get me first.

She could hear him huffing, pounding the floor, gaining on her.

The gray window straight ahead grew.

She couldn’t see whether it was a broken one.

If it’s not, I’ll be cut to ribbons!

They do it in the movies.

In the movies, it isn’t real glass.

But Abilene knew she would rather risk glass than face the certainty of Jim’s knife.

Arms hugging the sides of her head, right hand clutching the nape of her neck, she dived at the window. She rammed through. Glass exploded. Her head and neck got outside before the shards began to drop on her. She felt them bite and slice through the back of her blouse. The denim of her skirt seemed too heavy for them to penetrate, but they got her bare legs.

The dive took her clear of the window. She glimpsed the moonlit floor of the porch. Then its edge. Then the ground far below. She yelped ‘No! ’

Her hips and thighs pounded the floor, skidded. She flung her arms back, hoping to grab hold. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the porch as it slipped away. She dropped headfirst. Her legs flew up. Her heels struck the railing.

Oh, my God!

Then there was only the warm night air rushing around her.

This is it.

She saw the pale strip of granite along the rear of the lodge and wondered if she would miss it. As her legs swept down behind her, she saw the shadowed wall of the lodge and then the porch above her… the porch with its damn railing that she’d dived right under… then the second-story porch, then the edge of the roof. The moon was straight above her face when the ground crashed her rump. Her legs and back slammed down. Her head smacked.

Lights flared behind her eyes.

You do see stars, she thought.

Not just in the cartoons.

There was a roar in her head. A roar and a blazing pain. Her whole body seemed to be roaring inside.

She wondered if this was how it felt to get hit by a car.

No. It’s how you feel if you go through a window and fall a story.

She wondered if she was conscious.

I must be. I’m thinking.

Maybe dreaming I’m thinking.

At least I’m alive.

And I got away from him.

Jim!

She opened her eyes. Standing at her feet, naked and pale in the moonlight, was Helen.

Helen. Though the handle of a knife jutted from her belly, Abilene saw no blood, no guts spilling out, no rips at all in her skin.

Joy welled up through her agony. It was followed quickly by terrible sorrow, for she knew this couldn’t be Helen. Not really. She was either dreaming or hallucinating. Helen was dead. Had to be.

‘Rough night, huh?’ Helen asked.

‘My God.’

‘How you feeling? Pretty shitty, I guess.’

‘You… you’re alive?’

‘No such luck.’

‘I don’t…’

‘Don’t you know a ghost when you see one?’ She smiled. ‘I couldn’t find a white sheet. But this is okay. It’s a pretty hot night.’ She raised her arms and looked up at the sky. ‘A gorgeous night.’ Her arms lowered. Her smile slipped away. ‘But look, you haven’t got much time. You’ve got to pull yourself together before Jim shows up. He didn’t want to hurt himself following you through the window, so he’ll be coming out the kitchen door. Any second now.’

Groaning, Abilene pushed at the ground with her elbow. She braced herself up.

‘Come and pay me a visit,’ Helen told her. ‘I’ve got something that’ll help.’ Her fingers closed around the knife handle. She slipped the long, thick blade from her belly. It came out, leaving no wound behind. ‘It’s his, after all. You can give it back to him.’

And Helen was gone.

And Jim lurched across the porch and rushed down the stairs. He’d lost his cut-offs. But he hadn’t lost his knife. It jumped up and down in his right hand, flashing silver moonlight.

Not his knife, Abilene thought as she struggled to her feet.

Finley’s knife.

His is in Helen. In the shower room.

I’m supposed to get it.

But how?

Jim leaped off the last stairs and turned toward Abilene. Between her and the outer pool. But he no longer seemed to be in a hurry, maybe because she wasn’t running.

‘Gotcha now,’ he said.

With each step Jim took toward her, she sidestepped away from the lodge. Moving slowly further into the field. Limping, every muscle hot and sore, her broken finger throbbing, each cut afire with pain. Her blouse hugged her back, sodden with blood that slid down and soaked her skirt and panties. Blood dribbled down both her legs.

She wondered if she would have enough strength and quickness to get past him.

Probably not.

Gotta give it the old college try.

She kept stepping sideways, circling away from Jim as he walked toward her. Soon, he was no longer in the way of the pool. She was tempted to go for it. But he probably wouldn’t have any trouble cutting her off.

She had circled far enough that every step now carried her closer to the pool.

If we keep this up much longer, she thought, I won’t need to run past him at all. I’ll end up right there.

But he’s going to get tired of this game.

Any second, he’ll come running at me.

Abilene whirled and broke for the pool. She raced for its edge, arms pumping, legs striding out long and fast. Pain surged through her head. Her back sizzled as if fiery grease had been splashed on all the nicks and gashes from her shoulders to her ankles. She knew she couldn’t outrun her agony. She only hoped she could outrun Jim as he closed in on her from the side.

Sprinting full speed, glancing to her left and seeing Jim almost near enough to touch, she didn’t wait for the pool. She dived.

Deja vu.

Just like diving through the window, but no glass this time. And no porch floor rushing out from under her. This time, it was granite and she hoped her plunging body would clear its edge.

She hit the surface flat out, arms extended. It smacked her, enveloped her.

She knew she’d entered at an angle that would collide her with the side of the archway, so she rolled and kicked to the left. Her breasts scraped something. Her belly bumped. She twisted away and met no other obstruction as she glided forward.

She heard a hollow, muffled splash.

He’s in.

Sure that she was clear of the archway by now, she rolled face down and started swimming underwater.

Stay down here? she wondered. I could veer off and maybe lose him.

Cat and mouse in the dark pool.

Cat and mouse. Jim would like that. He’d been playing with all of them right from the start.

Sooner or later, he’ll find me.

Gotta go for the shower room, go for the knife.

Straight ahead.

She kicked to the surface and swam with all her strength. The sounds of her own splashes reverberated like water churning, erupting inside an echo chamber. She couldn’t hear splashes from Jim. But he had to be back there, had to be coming.

Does he know how to swim? she wondered.

If not, he might be wading. That’d slow him down plenty.

More likely, though, he was gliding silently toward her below the surface.

She tried to swim faster. Her sneakers felt heavy. They dragged at her feet, slowed her down. She wished she’d gotten rid of them, but couldn’t waste any time doing it now.

I’ve got my shoes slowing me down, she thought, but Jim’s got the knife to hamper him. He can’t possibly swim full speed with that in his hand.

And I can outrace him, shoes or not, as long as I’m up here and he’s down below.

Even though she told herself that, she half expected with every kick to feel the clutch of Jim’s fingers around one of her ankles.

Her right hand, darting out, jabbed a hard surface that curled her fingers and scraped her knuckles. She drew it back fast, flung up her other arm and lunged against the pool’s side. Her feet found the bottom. She leaped, shoving at the granite, knowing for sure Jim would grab her now.

But he didn’t.

She got both knees on the edge and scrabbled away from the pool. She thrust herself up. She ran. The smack of her rubber soles resounded through the silence, horribly loud, but not so loud that she didn’t hear a swush of disturbed water behind her or the wheezy gasp of Jim sucking air into lungs that must need it badly.

Abilene knew she had to be very close to the stairway. She slowed to a walk, rolling her feet to quiet the sound of her footsteps, bending forward and sweeping her arms in search of the banister.

She heard Jim panting, but no new splashy sounds. He’s still in the pool, she thought. Standing in the water, listening for me.

Her right hand hit wood.

And she had a sudden urge to rush up the stairs. She didn’t want to go into the shower room, to be in there in the blackness with Helen’s savaged corpse. If she could get back up to the lobby, maybe she could find the shotgun. Maybe Cora already had it. Or Vivian or Finley might’ve regained consciousness by now and maybe one of them had the shotgun.

They could blow the bastard away.

I’d be leading him straight back up to them, Abilene thought.

They’re safe up there. For now. As long as he’s down here after me.

If I can nail him, they’ll be safe perm…

Water swished and flopped.

Here he comes!

Abilene turned away from the banister. Following a mental picture of where the door marked Gents should be, she crept through the darkness with her arms outstretched. She found the wall. As she felt her way along it, she heard water dripping onto the granite floor. And footsteps. Slow, quiet pats.

He can’t see me, she told herself. Doesn’t know where I am.

She touched the doorframe. Two more sideways steps, and she knew she must be in front of the door.

She pushed.

The hinges squawked.

Rushing footfalls slapped the floor.

Abilene lunged forward, whirled and threw the door shut. It slammed with a crash.

She backed away from it fast, angling to her left and hoping she wouldn’t trip over the bench. Its edge brushed the side of her knee, so she knew she’d cleared it. Knew that she should miss the bank of lockers, too.

The door hinges groaned.

Reaching out, Abilene touched cool metal.

I’m at the end of the lockers.

She couldn’t remember if there was a bench on the other side of them.

But the shower room was there.

She could smell it.

That’s Helen.

Christ!

Imagining the diagonal path she would need to take, she spun around and ran.

She flung her arms out, swept them ahead of her as she charged through the blackness. The stench was like a foul, putrid rag rubbing her face. She tried to hold her breath. Something hammered her right foot out from under her.

As she plunged, arms out to break her fall, she realized it must’ve been the raised threshold of the shower room that had tripped her.

The floor smacked her palms, her knees. It knocked them out from under her. It hammered the breath from her lungs but she managed to keep her head up as she skidded.

Wheezing for air that clogged her nostrils and throat with its-heavy reek of corruption, she belly-crawled until her hands slipped on gooey muck.

‘Gonna end up same as yer fatso friend,’ Jim said from somewhere behind her.

She thrust herself up to her knees and scurried forward. Her hands swept across the mat of congealing blood, but didn’t find Helen.

‘How’d ya like yer skin peeled off? I’ll do that for ya.’

Did he move her? Abilene wondered. Where the hell is she?

Then her right hand jammed beneath something tight against the floor. Whatever it might be, it was too heavy for an arm. She must’ve pushed her hand under Helen’s side or leg. With her other hand, she reached out higher. She touched something sticky and yielding that made her want to pull back. She resisted the urge and felt along the mushy bulges.

She flinched, cried out, as her left foot was stomped.

The pain jolted her body. Her left hand rammed down into glop. Her right hand wedged deeper into the crease between Helen’s body and the floor, fingertips poking something that clinked.

Keys?

‘Guess I gotcha, huh?’

The weight lifted from her foot. Fingers clutched her ankle and pulled. As her knee began sliding backward, she jerked her right hand out from under Helen and hurled herself forward. She dropped across the body, flung her arm out and grabbed hold. Her fingers hooked into cool flesh. Helen’s side? Her rump?

Clinging to it as Jim tugged at her leg, she pulled her left hand out of the clinging slop and groped along Helen and found the knife.

Her swollen forefinger wouldn’t close, but she wrapped her other fingers and thumb around the upright handle.

Clutching it hard, she released her grip on Helen.

She yanked the blade out as Jim dragged her backward.

She didn’t resist him.

She slid off Helen’s body. The floor pounded her chest. As she skidded along, she raised both arms overhead. She passed the knife from her left hand to her right.

Does he know I’ve got it?

He must know he left it here.

But maybe he isn’t thinking about that. Not yet. Maybe.

‘I’ll do whatever you want,’ Abilene gasped. ‘Just don’t hurt me. Please.’

‘Please please please,’ he mocked her. ‘That’s what she kept sayin’. Gal sure didn’t wanta come in here.’ He stopped dragging Abilene. He twisted her foot. She yelped and rolled over quickly onto her back.

‘I really like you, Jim.’

‘Ya won’t much when I start ya’ squealin’.’

Her legs were nudged apart. She felt the knife blade scrape along the inner side of her thigh. It eased higher. She sucked in her breath and shuddered.

Dear God.

Get him now!

A swing and a miss and you’re out.

But the blade went away. A sharp tug at her skirt lifted her buttocks off the floor for a moment before the fabric split. The point pushed under her waistband, then tugged again.

‘Ain’t very sharp,’ he muttered. ‘Gonna hurt like hellfire, skinnin’ ya with it all dull.’

‘You don’t want to do that,’ she said.

‘Sure do. But I gotta pork ya first. I don’t pork dead folks.’

He moved forward, his knees nudging her thighs farther apart.

She felt both his hands on her belly.

Where’s the knife?

Between his teeth, maybe.

He ripped open the front of her blouse.

She heard buttons skitter across the floor.

His hands slid up her body. They clutched her breasts, squeezed.

A swing and a miss and you’re out.

She swung.

She swung her right arm up from her side as hard as she could and the knife lurched in her grip as its blade struck something in the dark beyond her chest and kept on going.

Jim squealed.

His hands leaped from her breasts.

She felt a bump against her belly. His knife. He’d had it in his mouth, all right.

‘My eye!’ he shrieked.

Abilene clamped her legs tight against him and sat up fast. She felt his knife slide down her belly to her groin. She grabbed its handle. Her three-fingered grip wasn’t much, but it was good enough.

She drove the blade forward. It punched into him and he bellowed and blood washed over her knuckles. It was still buried in him to the hilt when she slashed the darkness with the knife in her good right hand. The knife jerked when it hit him. His bellow changed to a gurgle. A hot stream hosed Abilene’s right breast.

The body viced between her legs twitched and writhed.

She pulled out the other knife.

She rammed both into him at once and the impact threw him backward. As he fell away, the blades came out of him.

She scurried clear, then crawled back to him. A thrashing foot kicked her face, but she didn’t mind. She straddled him, sat down across his hips. His twitching body thrust up against her. She heard him choke and gurgle. She heard his limbs smacking the floor.

She pounded her knives down.

She jerked them out and hit him again. And again. And again.

Soon, he was only moving because of the blades jolting him.

Sometimes, they got stuck in bone. But Abilene always managed to yank them free.

Finally, a blade broke.