Slasher Summer(75)

The confirmation stunned Patrick, his earlier suspicion gelling. The smugness on Mikey’s face, and his newfound alpha male posturing. Mikey would do anything for Carrie. He’d told Patrick once, back in high school, that he was going to kill the person who’d spread her photo if he ever found out who it was. At that time Patrick hadn’t taken him literally. Who would? People made hyperbolic promises every day, especially Mikey.

But Patrick had always suspected Tiffany had leaked the photo, to punish Carrie for having the gall to act on her crush on Jason.

Shit. Jason would probably be Mikey’s next victim, because with Tiffany out of the way, his cousin was now free to date Carrie.

And Mikey had proven himself proficient with the axe earlier, chopping wood.

A man-shaped shadow detached itself from the darkened doorway. It held something over its shoulder.

Jason turned. “Oh, there he is.”

“Jason!” Patrick shouted. “Get away from Mikey. It’s him.”

“What are you talking about?”

Patrick swung his flashlight toward Mikey with a shaking hand. Mikey squinted and shielded his eyes. Patrick aimed the light at the object Mikey had propped over one shoulder, and the earth stopped turning.

He was holding an axe.





24



Carrie

    Carrie hugged herself again, both unsettled and heartened by the warmth of Jason’s arms. His earlier apology hadn’t healed the old hurt like she’d hoped, but she was glad they were on the path to developing a new understanding.

So she could be forgiven for taking a few seconds to register that Michael was holding an axe. He was a tech wizard, not an outdoorsman, and it seemed completely out of character. Although his hip was cocked to one side and his posture relaxed, like the weapon had always been part of his body. Carrie’s breath stilled in her lungs as she anticipated the blade biting into Jason’s neck, then Patrick’s, releasing torrents of blood.

“Michael, what are you doing?” She stepped forward, perplexed.

“Get away from him, Carrie,” said Patrick, pulling her back.

“Where did you find that?” Jason asked. He sounded more curious than alarmed. At least he had the good sense to stay calm.

“It was in the kitchen, standing in a corner,” said Michael. “The Slasher must have left it.”

Patrick’s face darkened. “There is no Slasher. It’s you.”

Carrie’s jaw dropped. How could Patrick think that? It was utterly ludicrous. “What?”

Jason’s face was similarly a mask of confusion. Patrick flung out his arm to keep him back from Michael. “Jason, you too.”

Jason shoved Patrick’s arm out of the way as he stood beside his cousin. He was so loyal to Michael. Patrick was a fool to try to stand between them. Carrie felt a pang in her chest. She’d always admired that integrity.

“He can’t be the Slasher. That guy with the axe threatened both of us,” Jason said.

“Are you sure?” Patrick said. “You could’ve easily gotten separated in the dark. Maybe you thought Mikey was hiding, when he actually put on the costume.”

Michael shook his head. “That’s bullshit.”

Carrie grabbed Patrick’s arm. Couldn’t he see how wild this accusation was? “It’s Russ. We all know it’s Russ. He followed me to the cabin, then took the kitchen knife and left his hat.”

Patrick’s face could’ve been carved from stone. “Russ is dead.”

Carrie stared at him, stunned into silence. Her mind raced as it tried to recalibrate. Had she completely misjudged the whole night? Was everything she knew wrong?

“I don’t understand.” Her voice quavered. Events were spiraling out of control. The rules kept changing, and no one had bothered to explain them to her in the first place.

She rubbed her eyes, which still stung from lake water and tears. She was surprised she’d been able to cry for Tiffany. Tiffany Podemski, the queen bee of Cedar Lake High, who’d made Carrie feel less than acceptable after The Photo had been shared. Just a grasping little hussy. Not good enough to rub shoulders with decent people, no matter how hard she tried.

At that moment, Carrie felt as small as Tiffany had made her feel back then. But now was not the time to sink into despair. She reminded herself of her therapist’s teachings. These feelings of inadequacy were only her traitorous brain lying to her.

She silently repeated her mantra. I am a strong woman who can’t be hurt anymore. She could get through this roller coaster of a night. Adapt and pivot. Channel Jordan Knox. A good Final Girl always got up again to fight another day.

“If it’s not Russ, then it must be Daniel,” Jason said. “Not Mikey.”

“Daniel’s dead, too,” Patrick said.

So that was why he was asking all those questions about Daniel. An icy chill feathered down Carrie’s spine. “How can you know that?”

Patrick soberly took out his phone and showed her the screen. A notification sat on top. Carrie read the news headline, her stomach shriveling with every word. Daniel Williams, 22. Killed with a Meat Cleaver. She reeled from the shock of reading his brutal murder distilled into a brief, impersonal sentence. She didn’t grieve his loss, not after how he’d treated her. But she trembled, picturing a blade hacking through a body she’d once been intimate with.