Slasher Summer(61)

The water. Tiffany’s brain lit up with an idea, ignited by her new BFF, Fear. The canoe was gone, but she could swim across. It wouldn’t be a big deal for a strong swimmer like her. Her ankle might hurt like a bitch, but in the water, she was a mermaid. She had the medals hanging up in her parents’ house to prove it.

Alice would be mortified her big sister was crashing the camp, but she’d just have to suck it up. Uncle Vic had a satellite phone for emergencies. The kids should be evacuated anyway, if there was an axe-wielding stalker on the loose. More important, Tiffany would be safe over there.

She was now grateful that she’d accompanied Jason to the Jumpscare Society back in high school. She’d gone only to spend time with him, but she finally understood what all those gross and gory movies were teaching them. That anyone could survive the worst, as long as you made the right choices.

Tiffany didn’t need Jason or anyone else to rescue her. She was going to rescue her own damn self. Let Carrie simper and cling to Jason’s arm. That was all the Virgin Carrie was good at. Maybe in movies, Goody Two-shoes like Carrie survived, but in real life, women like Tiffany triumphed. You didn’t see meek little church mice giving TED talks and motivational seminars. It was all fierce blondes publishing self-help bestsellers and filling auditoriums. Tiffany could be just as strong. Think of the book deal she would get afterward. The speaking engagements. One woman’s tale of survival under adversity, and how she put her life back together after hitting rock bottom. Dumped by her high school sweetheart, and then stranded in the wilderness with a crazy axe murderer? People would eat that shit up. She’d be an inspiration. They might even make a movie about her.

And anyway, she was too pretty to die.

Tiffany hurriedly stripped off her shorts, glad she’d had the foresight to wear a swimsuit, and dove off the end of the dock. The water still held some of the day’s heat, like a bath that had cooled down. Her ankle throbbed as she kicked, and the gouge at the back of her left thigh stung, but her determination blotted out the discomfort.

She had a moment of panic as she remembered the man in the Slasher mask who’d tried to drown her earlier. But it was now dark and quiet. She’d hear him if he entered the lake. And he’d caught her by surprise, while she was floating on her back and daydreaming. Just let him try to catch her as she sliced through the water with her champion front crawl.

She was making good progress across the lake—doing swimmingly, she thought with a smirk—when her foot kicked something hard. Wincing, she bobbed to a treading position, her toes prodding for the object she’d struck.

“Ow!” Her toes found a sharp point. What the fuck? She peered into the lake. A peaked monolith lurked beneath the surface. She dove under the water to confirm what she was seeing.

It was undeniably a canoe. The canoe that came with the Slasher cabin. She recognized the scratched green exterior and the dent at the bow. She and Jen had made that dent when they’d drunkenly crashed it into some rocks in high school.

The canoe was filled with concrete blocks, which had shifted to one side, forcing the canoe to tilt. One end jutted out like a mountain’s peak. That was the part she’d kicked.

The back of Tiffany’s neck chilled as she came up for air. Someone had intentionally sunk the canoe in the middle of the lake. Holy shit. Russ hadn’t meant for any of them to leave the cabin.

She was about to set off again when a broad-shouldered figure emerged from the trees and onto the shore opposite the summer camp. Terror scrambled her brain. But then she remembered he couldn’t attack her here. Not in the middle of the lake. She just had to keep going. Even if Russ dove in after her, he’d never catch up to her now. Could he swim holding an axe, anyway?

To her surprise, her name echoed across the lake like a skipping stone. “Tiffany!”

She glanced back. The figure ran onto the dock and started to jump up and down, waving wildly with both arms. That didn’t seem like something a killer would do. Was it Jason? No, she would recognize him anywhere. The build was similar, though. Mikey! She raised an arm and waved back. Thank goodness he was okay. Jason and his family would be devastated if anything happened to him.

Mikey kept jumping up and down and yelling her name. Fuck, he was going to draw that axe-wielding maniac right to him.

“Mikey, be quiet! Russ is out there with an axe!” she called out. “I’m getting help!”

She was trying to, anyway. She struggled to tread water, confused by the sudden difficulty. The lake, so smooth and compliant before, was working against her, growing increasingly choppy.

She’d gotten her wish. She was no longer alone.

Tiffany’s yelp was drowned out by a rumble as a motorboat came zipping from the eastern end of the lake. The Mary Lou. She hadn’t heard the approaching engine due to the roar of her pulse in her ears. She prayed she’d been wrong, and the boat belonged to a local fisherman. Maybe she could ask him to go to the summer camp and get help from Uncle Vic.

Tiffany’s hope died when she saw the boat’s occupant.

A hooded figure sat tall in the driver’s seat, wearing a white mask that gleamed in the moonlight.

Mikey had been trying to warn her.

Tiffany recognized her error. Of course one could never be too pretty to die. Pretty dead girls made the best tragedies. She was so pretty, people said sadly at funerals, gazing at the open casket, or staring at photos on the news. She had her whole life ahead of her.