Slasher Summer(36)
“I’m not a killer!” he said exasperatedly.
“That’s exactly what a psycho killer would say.”
Patrick balled his fists at his waist. “Oh yeah? Then why are we headed north instead of northwest like Jason said? Are you trying to lure me somewhere? Because that’s what a psycho killer would do.”
Jen cackled. Patrick was adorable when he was mad. “Jason thought Freddy and Tiff would bail on the manhunt, but never suspected little ol’ me of having the same idea.”
“Jen!” Patrick said hotly.
“If we keep going north, we’ll hit the highway, and then I’m checking into the Cedar Lake Motel. You with me?”
“Does your plan include getting help for the others?” Patrick raised a judgmental eyebrow.
Jen thought about it. For two whole seconds. And then decided the rest of her friends could wander the woods all night for not having the good sense to let Mikey fend for himself.
“Maaaybe,” she declared.
Patrick touched her arm. “Jen. I know you’ve got a heart in there underneath all that bluster.”
He was trying to appeal to the better angels of her nature, but he’d forgotten she was devils all the way down.
“You can see how stupid this is,” she said. Ugh. Patrick was such a wet blanket. She knew she should’ve ditched him ten minutes ago when he’d stopped to retie his shoelaces. He was only slowing her down. “Mikey’s a big boy. Jason doesn’t have to keep taking care of him like we’re in high school again. Come on, the motel’s retro vibes are as good as the cabin’s. We can ask Norma for the honeymoon suite. I hear it’s got a waterbed.”
Patrick gestured wildly behind them. God, he was so stubborn. He really didn’t like a change in plans, even if this search party wasn’t his plan in the first place. “But if we don’t meet back at the cabin, everyone’s going to go out looking for us.”
“Then it’s their own fault for having no sense of self-preservation. I’m going, Patrick. With or without you.”
Jen continued the march toward the highway, swinging her arms to show she meant business. Patrick was asking her a question, but she was too far ahead to make out the words. “You’re not changing my mind,” she said, without glancing back.
A sharp grunt sounded behind her. He’d probably tripped. Silly Patrick, thinking he could delay her from getting the fuck out of the woods.
“Stop sulking, Patrick. You’ve seen enough movies. Running like a motherfucker is the one thing people should do in horror films at the slightest hint of danger, and yet they never do. Though I guess otherwise there’d be no movie. If our hero says Fuck no! and leaves the cabin, the summer camp, or the haunted house, it would be the end of the story. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m saying, Fuck no! and ending this story.”
Jen kept walking, rolling her eyes at Patrick’s sullen silence. She took the opportunity to rant some more. “And why does no one ever think to unmask the killer? Like, that’s the first thing I’d do. Tiffany should’ve gone for that guy’s mask when she was underwater. A masked killer would be afraid of their identity being revealed and fuck off. Because why wear a mask in the first place?”
Patrick continued to give her the silent treatment. He could be such a baby sometimes.
Jen answered her own question. “It’s because they’ve got something to hide. And staying out of sight is more important to them than slaughtering people.”
She waved her knife with a flourish. “Right, Patrick?”
She expected his exasperated voice to tell her to shut up or say something logical. Or something sappy about how much Jason was counting on them. But she heard nothing in response, not even the soft step of his deck shoes.
“Patrick?”
The weight of the silence urged Jen to finally turn around.
Her faithful shadow had disappeared.
12
Michael
It was common knowledge that Michael Kline was highly intelligent. His stellar grades and MIT scholarship proved it. What people didn’t know was that he considered himself rather resourceful, too. A fighter and survivor. Like Ash in the Evil Dead franchise or Tommy Jarvis in the later Friday the 13th films. He’d made it this far, despite his shitty childhood and tumultuous high school years, and often it felt like he’d gotten here by the skin of his teeth.
Which was why he was wandering alone in the dark, cursing his hubris. Surviving through life didn’t mean he knew how to make his way through the freaking woods. He’d never gone to Cub Scouts camp as a kid, like Jason. His parents couldn’t afford to send him. But he couldn’t let Carrie down. He was going to be her knight in shining armor. He was going be the hero for once. Not Jason. Tiffany would finally regard him with the respect he was due, instead of like an unwanted tagalong, and Jen would never call him Pipsqueak again.
His phone lit the way, although he had no idea where he was going or where he actually was. Without a signal and GPS, his state-of-the-art device was only a glorified flashlight. Shame washed through him so powerfully he wanted to scream. At least he’d gotten rid of the fireplace poker, hurling it as far as he could off the dock into the lake. Goodbye, fingerprints, and the blood and bits of Russ’s hair stuck to the end. Hopefully the evidence would be rendered too inconclusive to pin any crime on him.