Party Games

by R. L. Stine

  “Step away!” Garland screamed. “I warned you!” And then he fired the rifle. One shot. Deafening.

  I shrieked and my hands flailed up in the air.

  Another shot.

  He lowered the rifle barrel and fired again. Again.

  I gasped and my body collapsed to the muddy ground.

  40.

  “NO ONE WILL BLAME ME”

  On my knees in the mud, I clamped my eyes shut and waited for the crushing pain.

  Silence now. The silence of death.

  The pain didn’t come. Was I already unconscious?

  No. I opened my eyes to see Garland standing over me, rifle lowered at his side.

  “Huh?” I whipped around in confusion. It took me a few seconds to see what he had done. He shot the canoe full of holes. Made sure it would never float.

  I let out a long sigh. My shoulders slumped. I wasn’t dead. But maybe I soon would be. Garland’s eyes were crazy, staring at me with too much intensity, like lasers he wanted to burn right through me.

  “I asked you nicely,” he murmured. He swept a hand over his bald head. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  “Why should I?” I snapped. “Were you telling the truth? I don’t think so.”

  He grabbed me roughly by my ponytail and tugged me to my feet. The legs of my jeans were soaked and caked with dirt, but I didn’t bother to brush them off. “Were you telling the truth?” I repeated. “Is Brendan okay? Is he? Are you going to kill Brendan? Are you going to kill me?”

  He spit on the ground. “Brendan’s okay. But it’s gotten complicated, hasn’t it? Very complicated.” He jerked me forward. I could feel his anger. “Let’s go. It’s cold out here.”

  We walked in silence through the woods to the house. He kept two or three steps behind me. I guess, in case I decided to make a run for it.

  If I did try to escape, would he shoot me?

  I could hear him muttering to himself. I realized the tension was getting to him. His eyes were wild. He was cursing to himself now, obviously agitated.

  He’s losing it. Totally losing control. This can’t be good for Brendan and me. If he goes completely crazy …

  The thought tightened my throat. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

  The dirt path curved and then began to rise up the sloping hill to Brendan’s house. The rain clouds had floated away. Dotted with tiny white stars, the night sky brightened. The bare tree limbs overhead gleamed dully, casting long shadows across the path.

  I saw another curve up ahead, through two fat tree trunks. My heart began to thud as I decided to attempt an escape. Maybe I could whip around one of those trees and disappear into the woods before Garland could raise his rifle.

  Maybe he wouldn’t shoot.

  Maybe.

  I didn’t think about what I’d do after I got away from him. I just knew my life depended on escaping. As we reached the sharp curve, my skin started to tingle. My whole body began to quiver. I took a deep breath and held it.

  I tensed my leg muscles, preparing to run. The wide tree trunks, bark draped with moss, loomed ahead me.

  I’ll run on the count of three. I’ll spin, push off from the trunk, dive into the darkness behind it.

  Sounded like a plan.

  One … two …

  But, whoa. I didn’t follow the plan. My body didn’t do what my brain had decided.

  With a hoarse cry that sounded more animal than human, I swung around. My shout startled Garland. He stopped. His mouth dropped open.

  I roared again and leaped forward. Without thinking, I shot out both hands and grabbed the barrel of the hunting rifle. I swung it left, then right. He struggled to keep his grip on the stock.

  But I jerked it easily away from him.

  The rifle dropped from my hands and hit the dirt. We both dove for it.

  I got there first. I wrapped my hand around the stock and raised it in front of me.

  A look of fear crossed Garland’s face. His blue eyes went wide as he climbed to his feet and took a few steps back.

  I raised the rifle to my shoulder and aimed the barrel at him. I’d never fired a rifle in my life. But he didn’t know that.

  He raised both hands, as if in surrender. But he said, “Give it back, Rachel. Give it to me.”

  I didn’t reply. I motioned with the rifle for him to keep his distance.

  Slowly, he stretched out his hands, reaching for the gun. “You’re not going to use that. You know you’re not. Hand it back to me, Rachel. Don’t make me fight you for it.”

  I stared at him, trying not to let him see my trembling hands.

  “Don’t make me fight you for it. You’ll regret it.”

  “I … I know how to use this,” I said. “Keep back. I’m warning you.”

  He hesitated for a moment, his eyes on the rifle. Then he dove for it.

  I pulled the trigger. The gun exploded against me, a powerful jolt that made me stagger back.

  Garland made a rough choking noise and reached for his throat. Bright blood spurted over his hand.

  I fired again and watched a dark stain spread quickly over the chest of his shirt.

  He groaned and slumped to his knees. Blood gushed like a fountain from his neck and his chest. His body twitched crazily, and then he went still. He toppled onto his back and lay in a puddle of dark blood. His blue eyes stared glassily up at the brightening sky. He didn’t move.

  “Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air. “Yes! One down and one to go. Now I’ll kill his buddy. Why not? No one will blame me.”

  41.

  “YOU SPOILED CREEP”

  Two fat tree trunks stood like guardians at a curve in the dirt path. Past the trees, the path sloped up sharply, leading to the house.

  “You’re awful quiet,” Garland said. “What are you thinking about?”

  I was tempted to tell him that I’d just imagined shooting him twice and killing him. How would that go over?

  Well, Mr. Garland. I just pictured myself grabbing the rifle and blasting holes in your neck and your chest and watching you bleed to death.

  He probably wouldn’t appreciate that. And since he was already muttering and cursing crazily to himself, sweat pouring down his bald head despite the cold night, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.

  “Nothing much,” I said.

  The huge house came into view beyond the front lawn, the swaying grass gray in the moonlight.

  “Mac messed this up,” Garland grumbled. “He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to get involved. The jerk. The stupid jerk.”

  We walked on. I didn’t say anything. I knew he was talking to himself.

  “Mac told us there was gonna be a party here,” he continued. “That’s when we realized how easy it would be to kidnap the Fear punk on this island.” He shook his head. “Easy. It was supposed to be easy. But then Mac said you recognized me. He said you’d identify me. Blow the whole deal.”

  “Mac tried to warn me last week,” I said. The words just spilled out.

  Garland exploded in an angry roar. “He what? Mac told you about this? He told you what we were planning?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “No. He didn’t tell me anything. He—”

  “Why didn’t he just put it on Facebook?” Garland shouted. “Tell the whole world? He told you we were coming here?”

  “No. No way.” I turned to plead with him. “Mac didn’t tell me anything. He just said he didn’t want me to come to this party. He—”

  “Shut up!” Garland boomed. He swung the rifle barrel at me. “Shut up! Shut up! I have to think.” He rubbed his bald head. “I have to figure this out. My son … my idiot son … what was he thinking?”

  I walked in silence. Mac’s father was acting more and more deranged. He talked to himself all the way back to the house. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it sounded like he was having a big argument with himself.

  We found Brendan and the other gunman in the ballroom. Brendan
sat glumly on a folding chair near the fireplace. He had his hands tied behind his back.

  The pudgy gunman stood a few feet away, still masked. His rifle leaned against the corner of the back wall. The fire had died. The room smelled of wood smoke. The air felt cold against my hot cheeks.

  I turned and saw Mac, hunched in a chair against the far wall. He was all folded-in on himself as if he was trying to disappear. He glanced up when his father and I stepped into the room. Then he lowered his eyes and turned away.

  “That’s right. Don’t look at me,” Garland yelled to his son. “Don’t look at me. I’m warning you.”

  “But, Dad. Give me a break. I brought her to you, didn’t I? Didn’t I? I didn’t want to, but I helped you.”

  “Don’t look at me. Last warning.”

  Mac sighed and turned away.

  Garland pushed me onto a chair beside Brendan. His partner tied my hands behind my back. I whispered to Brendan, “You okay?”

  He shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “You okay?”

  “No,” I said. “How could I be okay?”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” Garland screamed.

  His partner’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Hey, what are we doing? What’s the word here, chief?”

  Garland was red-faced, sweating. “I didn’t want Mac involved. But that idiot warned the girl. He probably called the police, too.”

  “I did not!” Mac exclaimed angrily.

  The masked guy stepped up to Garland and blocked his path. “You said this would be easy. Easy money, you said. Kids locked in the basement. Oliver Fear pays, and we are out of here. You promised me, Dwight. You didn’t say anything about … about…” He motioned to Brendan and me.

  “Shut up. I mean it. Shut up. Let me think,” Garland said, rubbing sweat off his head.

  “There’s nothing to think about,” his partner insisted, spitting the words in Garland’s face. “They know who you are. We’re already caught. We have to drop it and get out of here. Or else…”

  He pulled a knife from his pocket. He unfolded the blade and swung it in front of him.

  A chill of horror shook my body.

  “We won’t tell anyone,” Brendan said. “I told you before. I promise. We won’t tell anyone. Just let us all go. We won’t say a word. My father will pay and he’ll help you get away. The money means nothing to him.”

  “You spoiled creep,” Garland muttered with a scowl.

  “Let’s just kill him,” the masked one said. The knife blade gleamed in his hand. He stepped in front of Brendan. “I really want to kill him, Dwight.”

  “No—please!” I screamed.

  Brendan didn’t plead. Instead, he glared up at him. “You don’t have the guts,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can’t kill me if you want the money. Even someone as stupid as you knows that.”

  The gunman growled and lowered the knife to Brendan’s throat. “If I’m so stupid, how come you are the one who’s going to die?”

  “No—wait, Sal,” Garland interrupted. “The punk is right. We need him alive.”

  “Thanks, Dwight. You told him my name. Nice move.” He tugged the mask off his head and heaved it to the floor. He had curly red hair and green eyes and a crooked beak of a nose. His face was drenched with sweat from the mask.

  “We need him alive, Sal,” Garland insisted.

  “But we don’t need the whining girlfriend,” Sal said.

  A horrified moan escaped my throat. I strained at the ropes, but it was useless. I couldn’t move.

  “Wait—” Garland insisted.

  But Sal didn’t wait. He swung around to me, his green eyes wild.

  “Wait!” Garland screamed. “Listen to me, Sal. Don’t!”

  Sal ignored him. He pressed the knife blade against my throat.

  I shut my eyes.

  Oh, please. Oh, please—no.

  I heard the rush of air as the knife came slashing down.

  “Stop! Don’t!” Brendan wailed.

  “Too late,” Sal rasped. “Too late.”

  42.

  CUT

  I felt a stab of pain. At the back of my head. A hard tug.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

  Struggling to breathe, I opened my eyes.

  Sal had turned to Garland. He gripped the knife in his right hand. In his left fist, he held my ponytail.

  My ponytail. My ponytail. I don’t believe it. He cut off my ponytail.

  He tossed back his head and roared with laughter. Then he flung the ponytail into my lap. “You two still feeling so brave?”

  I stared at the ponytail in my lap and shuddered.

  These men were both crazy. Were Brendan and I going to get out of here alive?

  “You’ve had your joke, Sal,” Garland said. “Now put the knife away and give me some time to think.”

  “I’ve had it with your thinking,” Sal shouted at Garland. “Your thinking hasn’t exactly worked out, man. Maybe I should do the thinking from now on.”

  He took two steps toward Garland, holding the knife in front of him.

  Garland raised his hunting rifle. “Back away, Sal. I mean it.”

  Sal gestured with the knife. He took another step toward Garland. “You blew this, man. You’re finished. And thanks to your brilliant plan, I’m going down with you.”

  “Put the knife down, Sal. Back away. I don’t need you. I’m going to get the money. With or without you.”

  Sal stood his ground. “We have to kill these two. If we want to get away…”

  “I’ll decide what to do with them. Not you. Not you, Sal. Now back away. I’m going to count to three.”

  Sal kept the knife poised. He didn’t step back.

  Garland counted. “One … two…” He had the rifle pointed at Sal’s chest.

  “Dad—no!”

  Mac suddenly came to life. He leaped off his chair and came running at his father.

  Sal tossed the knife to the floor. He dove forward and grabbed Garland’s hunting rifle with both hands. Garland twisted it, tugging hard, trying to wrest it away from his partner.

  I tensed every muscle. Was the gun going to go off like before? Was someone about to die?

  “Dad! Stop! Stop it!” Mac stood helplessly, watching the two men wrestle for the weapon.

  Brendan and I were helpless, our hands tied to the back of the chair.

  Garland cursed and screamed as Sal continued to battle him for control of the gun. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” Garland wailed.

  I gasped as the door to the room burst open. Brendan and I both screamed as two, dark-uniformed police officers came running toward us, pistols raised.

  “Drop your weapons!” one of them screamed. “You’re under arrest!”

  With a powerful jerk, Garland pulled the hunting rifle free of Sal’s grasp. He swung it onto his shoulder and aimed it at the officers.

  “Drop your weapon!” both cops shouted in unison.

  Garland hesitated. A long moment. Then he angrily tossed the rifle to the floor, sending it skidding to the officers’ feet. Garland slowly raised his hands above his head. Sal stood frozen beside him, red-faced, his mouth open in shock.

  Mac stepped over to us and untied Brendan and me. I stood up. My ponytail fell to the floor at my feet.

  I shuddered. What a close call.

  I gripped the back of the chair, and waited for my legs to stop trembling and my heart to stop fluttering. But Brendan appeared totally calm. He stepped toward the two officers, shaking his head. “Just in time,” he murmured. “You guys are just in time.”

  The two cops exchanged glances. They kept their guns drawn. They were both young and tall and thin. One of them had a narrow, tanned face and a black mustache. The other one was boyish looking. He could pass for a teenager.

  The mustached cop stepped up to Brendan. “What’s going on here?”

  “It’s a kidnapping,” Brendan replied, motioning to Dwight and Sal. “For real. They c
ame here to kidnap me. Take them to your boat.”

  “They were going to kill us!” I cried. “If you had come a few minutes later…”

  The cops’ eyes widened in surprise.

  “They weren’t serious,” Mac chimed in. “It wasn’t real. My dad didn’t mean it. Really. They—”

  “Shut up, Mac,” his dad snapped. “You’re not helping anyone. I told you to stay home.”

  The boyish cop turned his gaze to Mac. “You know him? He’s your father?”

  Mac nodded. He didn’t reply.

  “Your father came here to kidnap these two people?”

  Mac had a bitter scowl on his face. “Just Brendan.”

  “Shut up!” Garland screamed at Mac. “Shut up! Shut up! Are you going to stand there and confess before they even arrest us?”

  “You are under arrest,” the young-looking cop said.

  “My other guests are locked in the basement,” Brendan said. “I’ll get them out. You need to take these three to your police station.”

  “Right,” Mustache replied. He waved his pistol at Dwight and Sal.

  “Contact my father,” Brendan said. “Oliver Fear. Tell him to send the boat to pick everyone up. Rachel and I will come tell you the whole story after everyone is rescued.”

  The cops both nodded. “Get going,” the boyish one told Dwight, Sal, and Mac. “We will read you your rights on the way back to Shadyside.” They pulled handcuffs off their belts and handcuffed Dwight and Sal.

  My hands still gripped the back of the chair. My chest felt as if it was filled with butterflies. As I watched the two cops collect the hunting rifles and lead the two men and Mac out of the ballroom, I wondered if I would ever feel normal again.

  Would I see that rifle pointed at me every time I closed my eyes? Is it possible to get over the horror of someone aiming a weapon at you and threatening to kill you?

  The door closed hard behind them. Brendan and I were left alone in the vast ballroom.

  He stood watching the door, as if expecting them to burst back in. When he finally turned to me, he had a strange expression on his face. I couldn’t read it. Was he actually smiling?