He hurried around to the other side. He climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine, and shot the car backward. The tires squealed as he skidded into a tight turn. He sped toward the parking lot exit.
After a glance at the rearview mirror, he slowed the car. He turned it around and drove back to where the others were waiting.
Finley grinned through the passenger window. ‘That was great, guys. Let’s head for the Mess Hall.’
Finley led the way with Cora, Vivian and Baxter in her car. Abilene and Helen travelled in Harris’s car. They left the town of Belmore behind, heading eastward into the wooded hills.
‘Where’s she taking us?’ Harris asked.
‘It’s only about a half-hour drive,’ Abilene said. ‘Some place she found that’s really off the beaten track. Figured we shouldn’t do the nasty scene in the park.’
‘We’re lucky we got through our scene without visitors,’ Harris said.
‘Would’ve been even more embarrassing.’
‘It was pretty strange, doing that in front of an audience.’
‘You both sure seemed to enjoy it, though,’ Helen said from the back seat.
Harris smiled over his shoulder at her. ‘I can think of worse ways to spend a Saturday morning.’
Soon, they followed Finley’s car onto a dirt road that twisted through the woods. Harris slowed down to stay out of her dust cloud. The car lurched and bounced. Branches squeaked against its sides.
‘Hope we’re almost there,’ Harris said.
Abilene nodded, but she was in no hurry to reach their destination.
Five minutes later, the road dead-ended. Harris stopped short, apparently waiting for the dust to settle a bit. Up ahead, the doors of Finley’s car swung open. Cora and Vivian climbed out of the back seat. During the trip, they’d changed into their zombie costumes.
Along with Helen, they were supposed to be earlier victims who’d been tortured and murdered by The Reaper, then left behind as meals for the woodland creatures. They were to show up for revenge just in the nick of time to save Abilene’s character. But in the story, there were six of them and they were a mess. The Reaper had mutilated them: scalped one, skinned another. He’d gouged eyes, cut off noses and breasts. Mother Nature’s scavengers had then gotten to the girls: ants, maggots, coyotes, birds. By the time the zombies came staggering to the rescue, some were missing limbs and all were filthy, ruined cadavers in various stages of decay. They were all naked, too.
Finley had known when she chose the story that such things couldn’t appear in her film. First, she didn’t have the time or resources for any elaborate special effects. Second, nudity was out. There was no choice but to have zombies that looked much too healthy and wore clothes.
The girls had been left to their own devices about what to wear.
Vivian wore an old sundress, ripped here and there with a razor blade, its skirt half tom off. Cora wore panties (two pairs, actually), and a tattered T-shirt. The garments of both girls were filthy with dirt and large amounts of stage blood that had been applied last night and now looked stiff and brown.
‘Maybe I’d better change,’ Helen said as Harris pulled the car forward. He parked, and Helen stayed inside while he and Abilene climbed out.
‘You gals look pretty good for a couple of stiffs,’ Harris said.
Cora smirked at him. ‘We sure look better than you and your pals did, that Halloween.’
Abilene smiled as his face turned red. ‘Talk about embarrassing moments,’ he muttered. ‘Jeez. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.’
Abilene laughed. ‘Oh, you were so cute.’ Suddenly, she remembered what they’d found in the man’s house later that night. The thing in the wheelchair.
What had been wrong with him?
God, don’t think about him!
As Finley and Vivian came back from the trunk of the car with a couple of make-up kits, Helen joined the group. She wore a blouse and jeans. Yesterday, they’d been white. Today, they looked as if they’d been used to mop up the floor of a slaughterhouse. The legs of the jeans were tom. Half the blouse was ripped away, including most of its left sleeve. The remnant of that sleeve was empty, Helen’s arm hidden inside the blouse. With the proper camera angles to keep the bulge out of sight, she ought to look as if she’d lost the arm.
For the next few minutes, Finley and Baxter helped the girls apply make-up. It consisted mostly of the stage blood, which was smeared over nearly every visible inch of their skin. For the sake of variety, Vivian’s face was spared the red goo. A gray substance was applied to her face by Finley, who then added a few colorful purple contusions. For a final touch, they mussed their hair.
Then everyone followed Finley along a footpath to a sunlit clearing. It looked perfect.
‘How did you ever find this?’ Abilene asked.
‘Wasn’t easy. I was out here with Brian last year.’ Grinning, she added, ‘We had a little picnic. Right under that tree. Just like the one in the story, huh? I remembered the limb. We swung on it.’
‘It’s perfect,’ Baxter said.
Ten minutes later, Abilene was hanging from it by a rope tied to her wrists. The rope was long enough to let her feet touch the ground, but it stretched her arms overhead. Higher than she appreciated, but she didn’t complain.
Better to suffer with it than risk having to go through anything a second time. Once had been more than enough, being carted into the clearing on Baxter’s shoulder, thrown against the trunk and punched again in the stomach so she wouldn’t resist while he took off the handcuffs, bound her with the rope and suspended her under the limb.
Now, standing just in front of her, Baxter pulled the knife from his belt.
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘Please.’
He smiled. ‘I knew you’d get around to begging.’
‘I never did anything to you.’
‘But you’re about to do something/or me. Oh, yes.’ With the flat of the plastic blade, he caressed her cheek.
On cue, Helen let out a coyote howl. She did a good job of it. The plaintive cry seemed to come from far away.
Baxter slid the blade under Abilene’s chin and up to her other cheek. ‘That’s my friend,’ he said. His voice was slow and lazy. He sounded a bit amused. He had a languid look in his eyes as he watched the movements of his knife. ‘We’ve got an arrangement. I leave a meal for him and his forest friends, and they do the clean-up for me. None of this “shallow grave” nonsense.’ The point of the knife eased down the side of her neck. It nudged the blouse away and stroked along her collar bone. ‘I just leave you here, tomorrow you’ll be gone. They’ll come like the good, hungry troops they are, and leave the area nice and tidy.’ The knife went lower. Its point scraped lightly over the slope of her breast, traced the edge of the bra cup. ‘No fuss, no bother.’
‘Please! Please don’t.’
‘Please!’ he mimicked her. ‘Please don’t.’
He drew the knife sideways, pushing harder, and Abilene felt fluid squirt from its tip as he sliced her across the chest. She flinched rigid and cried out, ‘Yeeeah! ’
Laughing, he took the knife away. He licked the blood from its blade.
‘You bastard! ’
‘Is that any way to talk?’
‘HELP!’ she shouted. ‘HELP! PLEASE, HELP ME!’
‘Nobody’s going to hear you but the coyotes.’
‘You can’t do this!’
‘Sure I can. Done it plenty of times before.’
‘Please! I’ll do anything!’
‘I know just what you’ll do. Scream, twitch, cry, kick, beg, drool… bleed. Not necessarily in that order, of course.’ Bending over, he kissed her chest.
Not in the script.
What the hell’s going on?
He licked, his tongue sliding and flicking at the bare skin where he’d ‘cut’ her. Licking up the fake blood.
Why isn’t Finley stopping this?
Probably figures it looks good.
&nb
sp; ‘Don’t!’ Not in the script, either. But in character. Finley kept taping.
He’ll quit in a second, she told herself. Hang in. It’s almost time for the zombies to show up and that’ll be the end of him messing with me.
Baxter licked his way up Abilene’s neck. She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her. His mouth found her cheek. He was breathing hard, moaning.
Christ!
One of his arms went around her back, underneath her blouse. Itpressed her hard against him and she felt the warm fluid squirting against her spine. His mouth got to her lips.
‘No!’
He kissed her hard, and now she couldn’t call out and make it all stop.
She strained against the rope. Squirming, she tried to get her mouth away from his.
Somebody make him quit!
A hand clutched her right breast. Fingertips pushed under the cup of the bra, tugged. The strap dug into her shoulder, snapped. Her breast was bare under his robbing, squeezing hand.
She drove a knee up.
It pounded against him. He grunted but didn’t let go.
Where the hell is Harris?
With a quick twist sideways, she freed her mouth. ‘Stop it! ’
He didn’t stop. His other hand, knife gone, went down her. back and rump. It scratched her skirt up. It rubbed her buttocks for just a moment, then hooked the panties down and he yelped with surprise and pain as Helen clutched his face with a bloody hand and yanked him backward.
He flopped onto the ground.
All three zombies went at him.
It was nothing like the script.
Sobbing and gasping, she watched the zombies pound Baxter.
Cora, sitting on his chest, punched him in the face. Vivian stomped on his legs. Helen kicked him in the side.
They weren’t pretending.
Neither was Baxter. He bucked and twisted. He flung up arms, trying to shield his face. He grunted. He cried out. Real blood poured from his nostrils. He began to beg. ‘Stop! Please! Leave me alone! Don’t! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!’
Finley taped it all.
Harris came rushing into the clearing. Where had he been?
One look at Abilene and he stopped abruptly. Confusion on his face. Then fury.
He took a step forward.
And halted and watched as one-armed Helen lurched forward between Baxter’s legs and kicked him in the groin.
Baxter didn’t respond.
He just lay there, silent and limp.
‘Cut,’ Finley said. Voice grim.
‘What the hell happened here!’ Harris blurted. Not waiting for an answer, he ran over to Abilene. As he approached her, the zombies stood over Baxter and stared down at him.
‘Things got out of hand,’ Finley muttered.
‘Jesus.’ He pulled Abilene’s blouse shut. His arms went around her and he drew her gently against him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Where were you?’ she sobbed.
‘I didn’t want to watch what he… Did he hurt you?’
She shook her head. ‘Could you get me down from here?’
He reached for one of her bound wrists.
‘Hold it,’ Finley said. ‘Let one of the zombies do it. Then we’ll have an ending.’
‘Screw your damn film! ’
‘It’s okay,’ Abilene said. ‘Let… it’s okay.’
He backed away. Finley gave Vivian a real knife similar to the fake one.
Finley taping, Vivian staggered forward in good zombie fashion but with a strange, frantic look in her green eyes. She sawed through the rope. Abilene lowered her arms. Her panties were down around her knees. She bent over and pulled them up. Then she whirled around and ran for the trees, the loose end of the rope dragging along the ground beside her.
‘That’s it,’ Finley called.
When Abilene returned, the girls gathered around her while Harris untied her wrists.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Finley said. ‘It just didn’t hit me what he was doing. I knew he wasn’t sticking to the script, but…’
‘I should’ve been here,’ Harris said. He sounded miserable.
‘I just wish we would’ve nailed him sooner,’ Cora said. ‘I don’t think any of us realized…’
‘It wasn’t till you kneed him,’ Helen said.
‘Yeah,’ Vivian said. ‘I didn’t know what was going on. God, I’m sotry.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ Finley said. ‘I should’ve stopped things when he started licking off the blood. He wasn’t supposed to do that. But it seemed right for The Reaper, you know? It all seemed right for The Reaper, and you were reacting like a good victim even though…’ She shook her head. ‘Shit.’
Abilene rubbed her sore wrists, then fastened the buttons of her blouse. ‘It’s okay. It’s over. I just don’t want my breast ending up in your movie.’
‘It won’t. I promise.’
‘And you owe me a new bra.’
Just for an instant, a smile tipped up a corner of Finley’s mouth. Then she was looking grim again, nodding.
They all turned their attention to Baxter as he groaned. He shook his head, grimaced, rolled onto his side, clutched his groin and drew his knees up.
‘What’ll we do with him?’ Abilene asked.
Harris took a step toward him, but Abilene grabbed his shoulder. ‘Don’t. He’s had enough.’
‘We oughta get a final shot of him,’ Finley said. ‘Gotta mess him up first, though.’
Vivian and Helen went to the edge of the clearing. As they came back with jars of blood, Cora nudged Baxter with her foot. ‘Roll over and play dead.’
Wincing and moaning, he eased down onto his back. Cora bent over and tore his shirt open. Then Vivian and Helen doused him all over with the crimson fluid. It mixed with the real blood on his face. The real blood looked brighter.
‘Okay,’ Finley said. ‘Get down around him and act like you’re ripping him apart. Don’t move a muscle, Baxter. The mood my pals are in, they just might get carried away. That happens, you know.’
Helen, Vivian and Cora knelt over Baxter. While Finley taped, they pretended to tear at him with their fingernails and teeth. He didn't move at all.
‘That’s a wrap,’ Finley said.
The zombies got to their feet and stepped away from him.
He remained on his back. His eyes found Abilene. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I’ll bet,’ she muttered.
‘I mean it. I never… I just couldn’t stop myself. I never planned to do any of that. It… just happened.’ He turned his face away. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘You’ll have plenty of time to think about it,’ Finley said, ‘while you’re walking back to town. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
‘We aren’t gonna leave him,’ Abilene said.
‘He’s not going back in my car.’
‘Then we’ll drive him,’ she said, and looked at Harris. He was frowning at her. ‘Hey, I’m the one he messed with. And I didn’t appreciate it one bit. But we all got him into this, and maybe it’s not completely his fault. You got carried away in the love scene. We both did. I’m not so sure we should blame him for losing it. I mean, I wish it hadn’t happened but… it was this damn story. We never should’ve asked any guy to play The Reaper.’
‘Would’ve been okay,’ Finley said, ‘if Tony…’
‘Tony didn’t have any track meet today,’ Cora said.
‘What?’ Finley blurted.
‘He lied about it. He just didn’t want to play The Reaper. He said, “I can’t do that stuff to Abilene or to anyone else. Not even pretending.” It’s like he knew what might happen.’
‘He wouldn’t have done that stuff to her,’ Vivian said.
‘Maybe he was afraid he might. I don’t know.’
‘I know one thing,’ Abilene said. ‘He’s smarter than the rest of us; he stayed out of it.’
‘ “A nifty little film. Though I realize you were limited as far as special
effects, you managed to carry off the story quite effectively. The cast was great. Very convincing portrayals all around. My regards to everyone involved. I wish you success with your film, and I should think you’ll have a great future in the cinema. Sincerely, Dick.” How do you like them apples?’ Finley asked, grinning up from the letter.
Abilene sneered. ‘Convincing portrayals, huh?’
‘They should’ve been,’ Cora said. ‘Nobody in the whole damn film was acting. You and Harris were really making out, Baxter tried to rape you, and we zombies kicked his ass in earnest.’
‘Turned into cinema verite,’ Finley said. ‘Hope the Institute appreciates it as much as the author.’
‘I’m a connoisseur of such things,’ Helen said, ‘and I think it was fabulous. Especially that one-armed zombie.’
‘You did a great job pulling Baxter off me,’ Abilene admitted.
Helen beamed at her. ‘Pretty good for a fatty, huh? And a dead one, to boot.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nobody screamed. Nobody fled. Nobody spoke or wept.
They all stood there, staring at the body.
Abilene supposed it came as no surprise to any of them that Helen had been murdered. It was what they had all suspected, dreaded, tried to deny all morning during their search for her. They’d clung to feeble hopes, but they’d known they would probably never find her alive.
Now it was over. There was no more room for hope or denial.
Someone had brought Helen into the shower room and butchered her.
It occurred to Abilene that she ought to be afraid. The killer might be nearby, might come for the rest of them. But she felt no fear. She felt only tired and dazed and numb.
She sank to the floor of the shower room. Slumping back against a wall, she raised her knees and hugged them tight. She was vaguely aware of the white cat scooting by, fleeing as Cora and Finley walked slowly toward Helen’s body.
Cora crouched. Her hand went to Helen’s neck. Searching for a pulse beat, though there could be no doubt that Helen was dead. A few moments later, she straightened up.
Finley, bending over, reached for the knife.
‘No,’ Cora whispered. ‘Don’t touch it. We shouldn’t… disturb anything.’
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