Ben was the first to break the silence. “It’s no big deal, guys. Seriously. Happens all the time.”
“Sorry,” T.J. said. “It was just kind of a shock, you know?”
Ben piled his utensils on his plate and stood up. “Forget it. Let’s go watch TV or something, huh? You guys are bumming me out.”
He bussed his plate into the kitchen, and Minnie quickly followed, leaving her mostly untouched dinner on the table. One by one they gathered up plates and serving trays, and hauled everything to the sink. Nathan and Kenny didn’t hang around to get roped into clean-up duty. Lori followed close behind Kenny, and Vivian, after a few instructions on how the dishwasher should be loaded, joined the group in the living room. But Meg lingered.
While Gunner and Kumiko rinsed plates and loaded them in the dishwasher in the exact opposite way Vivian had recommended, Meg checked the cupboards for signs of the slivered almonds. When she came up empty, she pulled out the trashcan and used a long wooden spoon to pick through the table scrapings, looking for any sign of the almonds.
“I already checked,” T.J. said. “No empty bag of almonds.”
“Oh.” Meg stood up and tossed the spoon into the sink.
“Weird,” Gunner said. King of the Obvious.
Kumiko added detergent to the dishwasher and closed it up. “Don’t worry about it. Ben’s fine. Just put it out of your mind.”
“Exactly,” T.J. said. “You need to relax. That’s what this weekend’s for, right?” He disappeared onto the patio and returned with four beers. He handed two to Gunner, then popped the other two with an opener on his key ring. “Seriously, have one. I know you don’t really drink but it’ll help you relax.”
Meg took the bottle gratefully. T.J. was right. She just needed to relax and have some fun. Stop worrying about who put almonds in the salad. This weekend was supposed to be fun.
Beers in hand, T.J., Gunner, Kumiko, and Meg joined the rest of the party in the living room. Meg expected to see a movie on the huge flat-screen television, but instead it was blank and blue, bathing the living room in a dullish cerulean light. Nathan and Kenny stood at a bookcase. They yanked DVD cases off the shelf and tossed them to Ben and Minnie on the sofa.
Minnie pried open The Hangover. “Empty,” she said before flinging it in a large pile on the floor.
“Empty,” Ben said, and added Trading Places.
“Empty?” Meg asked.
“Empty,” Ben and Minnie said in unison.
Kenny didn’t even turn around. “All of them.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” Vivian examined the discarded cases as if she didn’t entirely trust anyone else’s opinion. “Why would someone put empty DVD cases on the shelf?”
T.J. picked up the remote and flipped through input devices. The result was always the same: blue screen of death.
“The satellite’s out,” Kenny said.
A gust of wind blasted the backside of the house as if in agreement. It wasn’t the least bit cold inside, but Meg shivered.
“Must be the storm.” Ben jumped to his feet and headed to the kitchen. “I’m getting more beers. I think we’re gonna need them.”
“We can always play board games,” Lori said. “I saw some stacked in the—”
“Here’s one!” Minnie squealed. She held up a shiny DVD like she’d just found Willy Wonka’s last golden ticket.
“What is it?” Vivian asked.
Nathan plucked the disc out of her hand. “It’s homemade.” He held it up to his face and read the label: “Don’t Watch Me.”
“I don’t know that movie,” Gunner said.
Minnie snorted. “It’s a burned disc, Gun Show. Not a real movie.”
“Oh.”
Ben handed beers around. “It’s probably lame vacation footage or something.”
“Or porn,” Nathan volunteered.
Lori wrinkled her nose. “Why would someone label porn Don’t Watch Me?”
Nathan shrugged. “Why not?”
Vivian sat in one of the winged chairs and crossed her legs. “I don’t like this.”
“You know what?” Minnie said with a dramatic pause. “This is how horror movies start.”
“We’ve already had one near-death experience,” Kumiko said.
Ben laughed. “Just an accident. Nothing sinister.”
“Dude!” Nathan pointed at T.J. “You’d better watch out.”
T.J. arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Well, if this is a horror movie, you’re the first one to go. The black dude’s always the first one to die.”
Words flew out of Meg’s mouth before she even knew what she was saying. “Really? You really needed to go there?”
“What?” Nathan looked around the room. Everyone avoided his eyes. “It’s true.”
Focus shifted back to Meg. She felt her throat start to tighten up, the usual shyness creeping over her. “I, uh …”
“Come on,” Nathan said. “Say it.”
Meg saw the bully come out in Nathan. And there was nothing she hated more than a bully. It pissed her off that he was trying to intimidate her, and suddenly, Meg was able to say exactly what she meant.
“Racist much? Are you going to ask if Kumiko can help you with your math homework next?”
Kumiko laughed. “Good one.”
Meg smiled, surprised by her own words. She usually wasn’t this confrontational. Must be the booze.
“Whatever.” Nathan snatched the disc out of Kenny’s hands. “Are we watching this or not?”
“Why not?” Ben handed Minnie a beer and sat down next to her. Meg saw him drape a long arm around Minnie’s back. “Better than board games.”
“Dude,” Gunner said, his eyes wide. “Don’t do it.”
Minnie laughed, light and airy, as she leaned into Ben’s arm. “Oh come on, it’s just a video.” She pointed at Nathan. “Hurry up!”
Nathan put the disc in the machine and hit Play.
The number “10” appeared on the screen. It was animated as if it had been written by hand, and then a red slash crossed right through it. “9” and “8” were drawn and slashed through in the same manner, then three images of a beach at night cycled through in rapid succession, all different locations, it seemed, but all with a prominent starry sky and waves breaking across an expanse of sand.
The numbers started again: “7,” “6,” “5,” all with the same red slash marks crossing them out as if they were being counted down. Then more images. This time it was a collage of students in class—taking a test, arguing in some sort of mock trial, doing science experiments, running around a track, glee club.
“4,” “3,” “2,” “1.”
The screen went black and a low soundtrack kicked in. Just a few solo piano chords at first, then a soprano voice began to sing.
“Sure on this shining night …”
Words faded onto the screen.
When you hurt someone …
… with intent … with cruelty …
The screen went black for a moment as the song continued, then more words faded into view.
To steal someone’s soul.
To break someone’s heart.
The screen flashed, then filled with a quick montage of totally random images—a lightbulb turning on, a judge’s gavel striking a sound block, a bonfire.
To lie, cheat, or steal.
To destroy a reputation.
More random images. Math equations scrolling across the screen. People dancing. A girl and a boy making out.
Your actions are a crime.
Now it was capital punishment. An electric chair. A firing squad. A gallows.
Even if the law does not recognize it.
Flames filled the screen.
Your betrayal, your backstabbing, your character assassination.
The music stopped.
Steps must be taken to protect the innocent.
Those steps begin right here, right now.
Suddenly the screen
exploded with light and sound. The images flashed at a manic pace, moving backward as if the movie had been switched into rewind. The music was no longer a languid song but a dissonant cluster of screaming chords. The noise crescendoed as the video reached the countdown again, flying rapidly in reverse from one to ten. There was a massive explosion, along with matching sound effects, then a single line of text faded into view.
Vengeance is mine.
The screen went black.
NINE
STATIC FIZZLED ON THE SCREEN WHILE EVERYONE sat frozen in their seats, unable to move.
Kumiko was the first to break the spell. She jumped up and turned off the television with a shaky hand. “What the hell was that?”
Gunner scratched his knee. “Maybe Jessica’s messing with us?”
“Backstabbing? Character assassination?” Vivian’s voice seemed to have gone up an octave. “What does that even mean?”
“I can honestly say that was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ben said.
“Math problems?” Nathan said with a tense laugh. “And a noose? I mean, it’s just a joke, right?”
“Sick joke,” T.J. said. He was still staring at the dark television screen, his jaw muscles clenched tight.
“It couldn’t mean anything,” Vivian said.
From the corner of the room, someone sobbed. Everyone turned. Lori sat on the window bench, frantically rubbing the side of her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, and heavy tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Lori, are you okay?” Kenny asked. He heaved himself off the sofa with more agility than Meg thought possible and was across the room to her in an instant.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, and Lori started as if she’d been woken out of a deep sleep. There was a look on her face that Meg could only describe as panic. Without warning, she balled up her fists and pounded them against the wooden bench. “Who did this?”
Everyone froze. Stunned.
Nathan glanced at the blank television screen. “Huh?”
“One of you did it. To scare us.” Lori looked around aimlessly. “I need … I need …” She spotted the beer Ben had placed next to her and polished it off.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Vivian said. She sounded less than sure. “Calm down, okay?”
“Calm down?” Lori grabbed Vivian by the shoulders. “Someone’s trying to scare us. Someone’s out to get us.”
Meg’s eyes grew wide. Did she mean everyone or just her and Vivian?
Vivian shook herself free. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Lori wobbled a bit and steadied herself against the wall. “You think this is a coincidence? I know what that means. I know what you did.”
“Excuse me?”
“What you did to that girl last year. Everyone knew about it.”
Vivian flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Please. You’d stab your own mother in the back to win that competition.”
Gunner leaned into Kumiko. “What’s with the freak-out?”
T.J. shook himself, then stood up slowly. “I think we all need to calm down,” he said. “It’s been a long day and we’re probably all tired. Maybe we should call it a night?”
“I’m getting out of here. First thing in the morning.” Lori stumbled down the hallway. “I’m not staying here with you liars.”
Meg listened to Lori’s staggering footsteps as she ascended the stairs. She’d only seen Lori drink one beer, so she couldn’t be drunk. Was she that upset?
As soon as Lori was gone, Vivian dashed down the hall after her without saying a word. Meg was pretty sure she was crying.
“Damn,” Minnie said. “What is wrong with everyone?”
“I’m sharing a room with Lori,” Kumiko said. She sounded genuinely concerned. “I’ll make sure she’s all right.”
“Okay,” T.J. said. “Good.”
No one spoke as they filed out of the living room. No one looked anyone else in the eye. There was zero interest in discussing what they’d just seen.
They trudged up the stairs, single file, like school children marching off for detention. At the second floor, everyone disappeared into their own rooms. The door to Vivian’s room was already closed. At the other end of the hall, Kumiko approached her bedroom door, knocked softly, then entered.
The oppressive silence lingered as Meg and Minnie ascended the stairs to the garret. They didn’t speak while they got into their pajamas, they didn’t speak while they climbed into bed, they didn’t speak as Meg turned off the light.
Meg stared at the roof, listening to the sharp tapping of the rain as it was catapulted into the windows by a ferocious wind. She’d been so excited to stay in that room but now everything felt odd. Off in a way she couldn’t explain.
Meg shook her head. Jessica would be arriving in the morning with more guests. The storm would probably blow over during the night and tomorrow things would be different. She was being silly; she just needed some sleep.
“We should see about getting out of here tomorrow,” Minnie said softly. The nearest guest room was down on the second floor, yet she still whispered.
“Really?” Meg asked. “But I thought you were having a good time?”
“Yeah …” Minnie’s voice trailed off, then she fell silent. Meg could hear her turning over in bed. “Meg?”
“Yeah.”
“Will I be okay? When you’re in LA?”
“Mins, you’ll be fine.”
A rustle of sheets and bedding. “Sometimes, I don’t think I can, you know? Be fine without you. I’m not sure I can do it.”
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Meg said. “When we’re home.” She didn’t want to have that conversation at all, let alone in the pitch-black garret at White Rock House with T.J. sleeping in a room downstairs. It made her feel even more like a traitor to her friendship with Minnie: First she was running away to college, then she was rekindling her feelings for T.J.
“Promise?” Minnie said. Another promise no one expected her to keep.
“Promise.”
A roar of wind rattled every window in the garret and the rain lashed at the glass so fiercely it sounded as if someone had thrown a handful of pebbles at the side of the house. The light filtering through the white gauze curtains was muted and dull, and Meg’s first thought as she squinted her eyes open was that the storm must have raged all night without letting up. Judging by the wind and the rain, they were in for another dark, damp day on Henry Island.
She shivered and pulled the quilt up around her ears. Damn, the house was freezing. Had someone turned off the heat? She rolled on her side to check the time on the alarm clock, but the digital face was completely blank. No wonder it was so cold. The storm must have knocked out the power during the night. No power, no heat, no satellite. Minnie was right—they needed to catch the first boat out of there.
Meg listened for other noises in the house, but there was only the sound of Minnie’s rhythmic breathing. She lay there for a moment, eyes squeezed shut against the encroaching daylight, and wondered if she should get up and tell someone about the power outage. Eh, what could they do? No point in leaving a warm bed. She snuggled under her covers, hoping she’d drift back off to sleep.
Except she had to pee. Small bladder and too much beer. She swung her legs over the bed and tested her toes on the frigid floor, silently cursing her decision not to pack slippers. With the giant comforter wrapped around her, Meg tiptoed across the garret and down the stairs.
There was a slight breeze in the open stairwell of the tower that sent a chill racing down Meg’s neck. She hitched the comforter up over her head—sympathizing suddenly with Eskimos, mummies, and women in burkas—and quickened her pace.
Pat, pat, pat. The sound of her bare feet was distant and fuzzy as it permeated the layers of thick down wrapped around her head. Her toes were so cold she could barely feel the smooth wood of the stairs, and the comforter cocoon was like hav
ing blinders on: She could only see a small oval right in front of her. She moved as quickly as her bulky wrap would allow, praying she didn’t trip and send herself careening down the stairs or worse, over the railing. That fall would certainly end in a broken neck.
Why was she always thinking of the most morbid scenarios? Sheesh. Just go down to the bathroom then back to her warm, comfy bed.
Pat, pat, pat.
Creeeeeak.
Meg paused. Was that the stairs creaking? It sounded like it came from somewhere above her. Maybe the old house was straining against the storm? She rounded a corner and heard it again.
Creeeeeeak. A shadow on the white wall of the tower caught her eye. There was something odd about it, something familiar, and yet there shouldn’t be a shadow there at all. The windows in the tower didn’t have any curtains, nothing to cast a shadow. Meg stared at it for a second and noticed the shadow was moving, swaying slowly from left to right.
Creeeeeak.
Meg froze, her eyes locked on the shadow. The heavy form, oblong and amorphous except for the dangling appendages....
Legs. Holy crap, they were legs.
Meg turned her head and came eye-to-eye with a face hanging in the stairwell. The noose around the neck. The purplish-blue hue to the skin.
Meg opened her mouth and screamed.
TEN
LORI’S BODY ROCKED SLOWLY BACK AND FORTH.
Meg wanted to look away. But her eyes were locked on those of the dead girl in front of her. She let the comforter fall to the ground and even though the air was frigid, Meg was burning up. She began to sway, mimicking the motion of Lori’s dangling body, so much so that she had to reach out and grip the banister to steady herself for fear of tumbling over the rail.
Meg couldn’t even blink; Lori’s sightless brown eyes held her gaze. There was something in them: Fear? Confusion? In her final moments had Lori felt both? Had she regretted the choice to take her own life only after she had thrown herself over the banister? Meg shuddered. The idea of suicide, of being so full of despair that you didn’t want to live anymore, horrified her.
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