Slasher Summer(20)
Jen groaned. “Ugh. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Relax, everyone,” Patrick said, wriggling out of Jason’s hold. Jason flushed and forced his fingers to uncurl. He hadn’t realized he was still clutching Patrick’s arm. “It’s just a blackout. The cabin reviews said the power was unreliable, so I brought candles and flashlights. Save your phone batteries.”
Carrie turned off her phone and tucked it back in her jeans. Patrick brushed past Jason as he advanced toward the cardboard box by the door. A rustling sounded, and Jason squinted as a soft beam swept over everyone’s faces from the flashlight in Patrick’s hand.
“Now it’s extra cozy. Nothing to worry about,” Patrick said.
“Yeah.” Carrie laughed nervously. “We’re overreacting. Daniel can’t be stalking us. He didn’t even know where I was going.”
In front of her, on the narrow table behind the sofa, the old rotary telephone started to ring.
7
Jen
A power outage during a thunderstorm at the Slasher cabin couldn’t be more perfect for Jen. It was like Mary Shelley and her friends holed up at that gloomy castle while she wrote Frankenstein. The perfect vibes for drinking too much, telling ghost stories and getting laid. Jen would send off this chapter of her life with the gothic fanfare it deserved.
Too bad she wouldn’t be getting any action, since neither Tiff nor Carrie were into girls. The jury was still out on the others, though. She’d noticed how stiffly Jason and Patrick stood beside each other, like they were each trying very hard not to be drawn in by the other’s gravitational pull. Those two needed to kiss already. Jason and Tiffany might’ve been perfect together on paper, but there’d always been something behind Jason’s eyes that made Jen suspect the wholesome football hero persona was all an act.
Yes, the stage had been set for the perfect wild dark and stormy night. But when the phone started to ring—
Goose bumps. Literal goose bumps rising on Jen’s arms. Her pulse began to pound like she was trying to slip out of some girl’s apartment at dawn without waking her up. Hopes for a sexy gothic hangout fled her rational brain, and all she could think was that the creepy stranger she’d seen across the lake was calling.
The phone was one of those clunky old rotary beasts with the shrill ring that pierced your eardrums and shook your teeth. Her grandmother had owned a phone like that when Jen was little. It had scared the shit out of her then, and she hated to admit it freaked her out now. It was a sound that was very, very wrong, even if they were balls-deep in eighties nostalgia.
“Who’s got this number? Did any of you give out this number?” Freddy looked wildly from face to face.
Everyone shook their heads, Jen included. Her pulse clambered to new heights. She should’ve never shared Freddy’s joint, because his paranoia was catching.
Patrick pointed his flashlight at the phone, as if the illumination would reveal who was calling. The fucking rental company. Couldn’t they have put a normal cordless phone with caller ID in this cabin?
“It’s probably someone at the rental office, checking if we’re okay in the storm,” Patrick said, although he sounded doubtful. Something sharp sliced through Jen and she realized it was fear. If control-freak Patrick was uncertain, things couldn’t be good.
“It’s after dark. The rental office is closed,” Jason said. He would know, since his mom worked there.
The phone continued to ring with a rattling screech that Jen felt all the way in her rib cage. The noise was like an old-fashioned fire bell, warning of impending danger. “Is someone gonna get that?” she demanded, hiding her anxiety with irritation. “Someone clearly wants us to pick—”
Carrie snatched up the receiver. Patrick kept the flashlight trained on the phone, and Jen’s breath caught. Under the soft lighting, the chunky plastic handset at her ear, Carrie looked exactly like Final Girl Jordan Knox when the Slasher calls the cabin to taunt her and her friends.
Jen thought she was hallucinating that scene from the movie when a low, gravelly voice grated from the earpiece, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You’re all going to die tonight.”
Jen’s heart leaped into her mouth. Carrie slammed the receiver back in the cradle. Maybe it was the voice, or maybe it was the discordant jangle of the phone, but Mikey stumbled in surprise and fell backward on his ass. No one helped him up, not even Jason. They were too busy staring at the phone, talking at once.
“What the fuck was that?” Jen said.
“I told you, man! It’s the Slasher!” Freddy clung to Tiffany, who was holding him just as tightly.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Tiffany said.
“Relax, guys. It’s just some kids pranking us.” Jason’s reasonable voice rose confidently above the others. It was probably the same voice he used to deliver gameplay strategies to his teammates, and for a moment Jen actually believed him.
Until Carrie spoke.
“That’s what Derek says in Slasher,” she said, shakily, “before he and Cindy go into the woods and get killed.”
They all fell silent. Jen knew it was stupid. Slasher was only a movie, a low-budget eighties film full of campy special effects and campier acting. And yet, with the drumbeat of rain and thunder and the cabin’s darkened interior, she felt like they were inside the movie. A movie where everyone dies, at the hands of an unstoppable killer driven by a compulsion outside of their control.