Blood Games

by Richard Laymon

  Nothing to do now but wait, she thought.

  It felt good to be lying down.

  If I could only fall asleep. Get away from all this. At least for a while.

  ‘Maybe we should have Jim tell us about Helen,’ Cora said.

  ‘What about her?’ Finley asked.

  ‘Hank told him… how he got her.’

  ‘Jeez,’ Finley muttered.

  ‘I don’t think I want to know,’ Vivian said. ‘We saw what he did to her. We don’t have to hear about it.’

  ‘Not sure I wanta talk about it anyhow,’ Jim said. ‘Made me just sick, him tellin’ me. Had me lickin’ his eyes, ’n he was moanin’ ’n rubbin’ me the whole time. It was awful. But that’s when I made up my mind I had to save the rest of ya. I’ll help ya kill him, if ya let me.’

  ‘We’ll do the killing,’ Finley said.

  ‘You’ve already helped us a lot,’ Vivian said. ‘Just by telling us about him. Now we know who we’re up against.’

  ‘Especially about his eyes,’ Cora added. ‘It’s good to know he can’t operate in light.’

  ‘He can see like a cat in the dark,’ Jim said.

  ‘We oughta go for his eyes with the flashlights,’ Finley suggested.

  She really does believe, Abilene thought.

  And pictured herself and Finley shining flashlights into Hank’s eyes. He is a huge man, pale in the darkness. Very pale. An albino. Did Jim say he was an albino? And hairless. And holding a big knife. He is wearing a loincloth. Like a redskin from the movies, but he’s white, not red. White as the belly of a fish.

  When they shine the light in his eyes, he roars and staggers backward and flings up his arms, trying to block the painful brightness. He acts… like The Thing. Not The Thing from the remake, but the real one. James Amess. When he’s being zapped. Bellowing with rage and pain, writhing and twitching like a lunatic dancer.

  Doing the Mash.

  The Monster Mash.

  ‘The Monster Mash is a graveyard…’

  Abilene flinched awake, opened her eyes, and what she saw made her insides shrivel.

  Vivian. Crouched beside her. A hand on her shoulder.

  Vivian. But not the way Abilene wanted to see her. Not at all.

  Her tangled hair, usually auburn gleaming with red and gold highlights, looked dull brown. The whites of her eyes were blue like snow in evening shadows. Her sunburnt face was dusky, her white polo shirt gray.

  But not as gray as the sky.

  ‘It’s time,’ Vivian told her.

  Not what Abilene wanted to hear.

  ‘Time to rise ’n shine, Sleeping Beauty,’ Finley said.

  Abilene groaned. She pulled her hands out from under her head. They felt lifeless. So did her rump. Even her feet, crossed at the ankles, were a little numb.

  She uncrossed them, sat up and shook her arms and legs.

  ‘Guess I conked out for a while,’ she muttered, and felt shivery as hot, prickly sensations spread through her feet and fingers and buttocks.

  ‘More than a while,’ Cora said.

  ‘You didn’t miss much,’ Vivian told her, standing up.

  Abilene got to her feet. She hopped a few times, wincing. She rubbed her rump through the damp denim skirt. ‘I don’t recommend falling asleep on concrete,’ she said.

  ‘Pins and needles?’ Vivian asked.

  ‘With a vengeance.’ Also, her skin felt itchy under the knife scabbard. Even though she hadn’t been sleeping on it, the moist leather had been tight against her hip and thigh ever since she’d taken it from Batty.

  She drew out the big knife. Its sheath remained against her skin as if glued there. She reached beneath her skirt and pulled, grimacing as it peeled away.

  She slid the blade into its holder, then rubbed her irritated skin.

  ‘At least you got some rest,’ Vivian told her.

  ‘Wish I could’ve fallen asleep,’ Finley said. She was sitting on the hood of the Wagoneer, her feet on the bumper. The shotgun rested across her lap.

  Who let her have the shotgun? Abilene wondered.

  ‘I guess I must’ve missed something,’ she said. She shoved the covered knife under the waistband at the other side of her skirt. Its tip caught her panties and pushed them down. Turning away from Jim, she hitched them back up. Then she frowned at Finley. ‘How come you’ve got the gun?’

  ‘Just lucky.’

  ‘I’m a bit handicapped,’ Cora explained. ‘Wouldn’t make sense for me to be the shooter. Vivian doesn’t want to be.’

  ‘Screwed her up just chopping the cat,’ Finley said.

  ‘I’m not sure I could shoot at a person,’ Vivian said.

  ‘Whereas,’ Cora added, ‘Finley has already shown herself capable of that. Even if she did miss.’

  ‘Hey, I was in a moving boat, for Godsake. Batty was probably out of range, anyway.’

  ‘And Finley wants to be the one,’ Cora said. ‘Fuckin’-A-right.’

  ‘So unless you want to do it…’

  Abilene shook her head. She rubbed the sore backs of her hands.

  ‘Didn’t think so,’ Finley said. ‘Besides, it was my idea from the start - sticking around to bag the bastard. I wanta do the honors.’

  ‘Fine,’ Abilene told her. But she didn’t like the idea. Finley had shown herself, more than once, to be a hothead. With the shotgun in her hands, no telling what she might do. The weapon should be kept by someone with better self-control.

  Who, though? Cora was right. With her ankle broken, she wouldn’t be able to maneuver worth a damn. Vivian didn’t want to shoot Hank or anyone else, and neither did Abilene.

  Certainly can’t give the shotgun to Jim, even if he does claim to hate his brother.

  That leaves Finley. Like it or not.

  ‘What else did I miss while I was snoozing?’ she asked. ‘Any other major decisions?’

  ‘Don’t get so huffy,’ Finley said. ‘You were zonked. We didn’t want to wake you up.’

  ‘You know the balcony that overlooks the lobby?’ Cora asked. ‘We figured we’d position ourselves up there. It’ll give us a good field of vision, and we’ll be hard to get at. Hank would have to come upstairs.’

  ‘He couldn’t possibly sneak up on us,’ Vivian added.

  ‘Jim’ll be our bait,’ Cora said. ‘He’ll be down in the lobby in plain sight. When Hank goes over to him…’

  ‘Bang!’ Finley blurted.

  ‘It sounds like a good plan,’ Abilene admitted. She liked, very much, the idea of being above it all. Out of reach. Even if Finley should miss, she’d have plenty of time to reload before Hank could climb the stairs and get to them - especially if they were all the way at the far end of the balcony.

  ‘The trick,’ Finley said, ‘will be getting Hank into the line of fire.’

  Cora nodded. ‘We’ve got no idea where he might enter the lodge. He might come in anywhere; through the pools or even on the second floor. But we want to get him down there in the lobby area.’

  ‘I’m gonna call out to him,’ Jim explained. ‘Soon as I figure he’s around, I’ll start callin’ out. I’ll get him to come on over to me.’

  ‘And then it’s adios, asshole.’

  ‘Sounds really good,’ Abilene said. ‘If it works.’

  ‘It’ll work,’ Finley said.

  ‘What if he has a gun?’ Vivian asked.

  The question stunned Abilene. She hadn’t even thought of that.

  From the looks on the faces of her friends, they hadn’t either.

  After a moment, Finley said, ‘I’ll just have to nail him before he brings it into play.’

  ‘Will he have a gun?’ Abilene asked, frowning at Jim.

  ‘Maybe. We got us some rifles. But he didn’t take one along last night. Just went out with his knife, is all.’

  ‘And he left that in Helen,’ Cora said, her voice grim.

  ‘Oh, he’s got more. He’s got lotsa knives. That’s what he likes… to cut on folks. I don’t spect
he’d wanta ruin all his fun by shootin’ any of ya.’

  ‘Isn’t that charming,’ Finley muttered.

  They were silent for a while.

  Thinking about Helen? Abilene wondered. Or wondering how it might feel to have a knife blade shoved into them?

  A hot, shocking thrust into the belly.

  Or maybe it’d feel cold. Ice cold.

  And maybe it wouldn’t be your belly he stuck it in.

  ‘We’d better get at it,’ Cora said, and Abilene was glad to have her thoughts interrupted. ‘The sun’s down. He might already be on his way.’

  The lodge was much darker than the evening outside. Abilene, entering first, halted and swept her flashlight across the lobby. Here and there, support posts blocked its beam and cast shadows that flitted over the floor. She felt goosebumps scurry up her spine and the nape of her neck. Her scalp prickled.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Cora said.

  ‘Pretty sure he ain’t here yet,’ Jim said.

  Abilene hurried to the left, shining her light on the stairway. It looked clear. But she didn’t like the shadows thrown by the banister. She sidestepped and looked at the others. Jim was close behind her, Cora riding on his back. Following them was Finley with the shotgun. Vivian entered with the second flashlight and eased the door shut.

  Abilene started to climb the stairs backward, lighting the way for Jim.

  ‘Are you doing okay?’ she whispered as she made her way higher.

  ‘Ain’t bad.’

  ‘Just don’t fall.’

  ‘I’ll second that,’ Cora said.

  They were several stairs below her when she reached the top. She wanted very badly to swing her light away and check the balcony, imagined herself doing just that and imagined Jim tripping in the sudden darkness. A gasp and he’s falling backward, Cora screaming, both of them colliding with Finley and the three of them tumbling down the stairs, taking out Vivian, all four coming to rest in a broken heap at the bottom of the stairs.

  Just because I was scared somebody might be up here.

  She managed not to check behind her. Even after Jim made it to the top of the stairs, she kept her light trained on the floor in front of him while she backed her way along the balcony.

  Hoping no one would grab her.

  Then the balcony rail was there for Jim, so she whirled around.

  The bright beam showed only a long empty stretch afloat with dust motes between the banister and the wall with its three closed doors.

  Satisfied, she lit the way for Jim and sidestepped, keeping her back near the wall.

  He could heave Cora right off here, she thought.

  Finley’d probably shoot him, though.

  Hell, he’s been untied for hours. He’s had plenty of chances to jump us. Or make a break for it. He’s in on it with us, just like he says.

  Unless it’s just that he’s scared of the shotgun.

  Scared of his big brother, Hank, that’s what he is. Wants us to do the dirty work for him.

  And Finley’ll be glad to comply.

  ‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘This is far enough.’

  Abilene halted only a few strides from the end of the balcony. Jim lowered Cora. She released her hold, got her good foot on the floor, pivoted and grabbed the top of the split log railing.

  ‘This’ll be perfect,’ she said.

  Vivian squeezed past Finley. She and Jim clutched Cora by her upper arms and eased her down. She sat with her legs outstretched and hooked an arm around one of the uprights.

  Finley brought the shotgun to Abilene. ‘Keep us covered, okay?’

  ‘Don’t mess around down there. He might be anywhere.’

  ‘Won’t take long.’ She started away. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, and gave Jim a pat on the flank. Vivian went first, lighting the way.

  Abilene watched the three of them hurry along the balcony. She lowered the shotgun until its stock bumped softly against the floor. Its barrels felt cool and slippery in her hand. She hoped she wouldn’t need to use it, but knew that she could if she had to. Her dad, immersed in the lore of the Old West, had trained her not only in the art of the quick-draw, but in how to hit what she aimed with sixgun, rifle and shotgun. He’d even taken to calling her ‘Dead-eye.’

  Good thing Finley never caught wind of that, she thought as she watched her friends descend the stairs, Jim between them.

  They came back through the lobby, the light swinging from side to side like the headbeam of a miniature locomotive. Abilene kept her eyes on it, half expecting it to reveal Hank leaping out from behind a support.

  Then the light darted up at her. She squinted and turned her face away from its glare.

  ‘Right about there’s fine,’ Cora said.

  The light slid away. Abilene stepped closer to the railing and looked down. They were directly below her, eight or ten feet beyond the balcony’s overhang.

  Jim leaned back against a support beam. He hitched up his drooping cut-offs, then put his arms behind the post. Finley pulled a rope from a front pocket of her shorts. The one they’d used before? The last time Abilene had seen that rope was when she’d untied Jim down in the outside pool.

  Maybe someone had gone to get it while she’d been asleep.

  One more thing I missed, she thought.

  Finley stepped behind the post. Vivian aimed the light back there while Finley tied Jim’s hands.

  ‘Not too tight,’ Vivian said.

  ‘I know, I know.’ When she was done, she asked Jim, ‘How’s that?’

  ‘I guess okay.’

  ‘If it was any looser, it’d fall right off.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘All right. Good luck.’ She gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze.

  She's sure done a turn-around, Abilene thought as Finley followed Vivian back toward the stairway. Not so long ago, she’d attacked Jim in the pool and even threatened to kill him. Now she was treating him like a pal.

  She must’ve finally decided he really is on our side.

  Or maybe she’d started to find herself attracted to him.

  Wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten the hots for a young stranger.

  He was a dim shape down there against the post. Even with his deep tan, his skin seemed pale compared to his cut-offs and the darkness around him. He had a strip of very white skin below his waist. Because of the way his shorts hung crooked, it was narrow at one hip and got much wider as it crossed his belly.

  Abilene supposed she couldn’t blame Finley for warming up to the guy.

  He was slim and handsome and you sure couldn’t miss the fact that he wasn’t wearing much. On top of that, he’d apparently spent all his years in the wilds. There was something of the primitive savage about him. But he seemed vulnerable, shy and friendly.

  Also, you couldn’t help but feel a litde sorry for him. His whole family was dead except for his maniac of a brother. A freak who makes Jim lick his eyes and does God-knows-what-else to him. Molests him, apparently.

  He’d had a tough, strange life.

  Part of you feared the wildness in him. Part of you wanted to hug and comfort him. Part of you wanted to slip that rope suspender off his shoulder and climb all over him.

  No wonder, really, that Finley had started treating him nice.

  Abilene switched her flashlight on. She aimed its beam down at Jim. He squinted up at her. His skin was gleaming as if slick with oil. ‘Are you doing okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

  Then Finley and Vivian were coming along the balcony. Abilene turned off her flashlight. She gave the shotgun to Finley.

  Finley stepped past her, leaned against the railing and peered down.

  Vivian lowered herself to the floor on the other side of Cora.

  Abilene sat cross-legged near Cora’s feet. Gazing between the uprights, she could see Jim down below lashed to his post like a prisoner of Indians about to be tortured or burned at the stake.

  Or like a witch waiting
for the same kind of end.

  A male witch is called a warlock, she thought.

  She wondered what that made Batty.

  And felt a tremor as she remembered Batty’s threat to kill them all. Get me plenty a fresh items for m’stock. Including one of Finley’s breasts. I’ll cut me this one right off.

  This is all bad enough without thinking about that, she told herself.

  I broke Batty’s arm. He can’t hurt us. She can’t. It can’t. Unless with magic…

  Forget it.

  Just worry about Hank.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The windows at the front of the lobby, which had been rectangles of dim gray a short while ago, now were nearly black. Abilene watched them through the gaps between the uprights of the balcony railing. She tried to watch the door, too. She knew just where it ought to be, but she couldn’t see it.

  I’ll see it if it opens, she thought. It’ll let in darkness, but that’s bound to be brighter than what we’ve got in here.

  She doubted that Hank would enter the lodge from the front, anyway.

  Sometimes, she scanned the long room below her from the foot of the stairway to the fireplace at the other end. Not that she could see the stairway or the fireplace. All that she could really make out, down there, were the vague shapes of the support beams. Probably a dozen of them. A few were visible against the lesser darkness of the windows. She could distinguish the others, just barely, because they seemed to be a shade lighter than the wood of the walls and floorboards. A very slight degree of a shade lighter, so that they almost seemed not to be there at all, and appeared to melt away if she tried too hard to see them.

  She didn’t like looking at those posts. Didn’t like it at all. The way they shifted and vanished. The way she kept expecting someone, hiding among them, to slide into view and scurry from one to another.

  Every so often, when her nerves needed a rest from the vigil, she looked at Jim.

  Some time ago, he’d slid down the beam and sat on the floor.

  She could see him there, now, his legs stretched out. Only his bare skin was visible, blurred and dusky. His head hung forward so that his dark hair concealed his face. Where his cut-off jeans covered him, he didn’t appear to be there at all. He looked like a torso and legs, as if the section from just below his hips to partway down his thighs had been severed and thrown away.