Slasher Summer(83)
“Who do you think set up the phone call? You’re all going to die tonight,” Mikey hissed in a perfect imitation of the movie.
Of course. Mikey was working in the mayor’s office this summer. He knew how to set up an automated call. “What was the point of that? Why not just kill us?” Jason demanded.
“As Carrie said, we thought it would point to a crazy Slasher fan. Then afterward I cut the line.” Mikey patted the front pocket of his jeans. “That Swiss Army knife was the best birthday present you ever got me, bro. Carrie used it to puncture everyone’s tires, too, while Tiffany was swimming. So in a way, you only have yourself to blame.”
Jason struggled to fit more of the pieces together. “And you took the axe from the toolshed when you ran off.”
Mikey’s grin was smug. “Not me. Remember, it takes two. Carrie brought an identical axe with her and hid it in the woods with the Slasher outfit. That’s what I used to chase Jen and Patrick. Carrie has the one from the toolshed. Who else has keys?”
Disappointment and disbelief razed the last of Jason’s hope. He’d assumed Mikey was only an accomplice, but his hands were just as dirty as Carrie’s. “Did you kill Tiff?” he sputtered, nails biting into his palms as his fists clenched.
“That was Carrie. I was telling the truth about being on the dock when she showed up in the boat,” Mikey said, as casually as if he was describing a trip to the grocery store. Tears scalded Jason’s eyes. He didn’t understand how Mikey could’ve just stood there and watched the massacre. Jason had dated Tiffany for so long that she’d been part of their family.
“I tried to get Patrick, though, with my Mrs. Voorhees. Help, help!” Mikey cried out in a haunting voice.
It was the cry Jason and the others had heard before falling down the hillside. Was it Carrie or Patrick who’d recognized it as Mikey’s voice? Carrie. It must have been her trying to mislead them. Had she even fallen down the hill? Jason remembered her shouting his name and struggling to keep her balance, and nothing else.
“Fucker managed to hide from me. But it doesn’t matter. I got him in the end,” Mikey gloated, glancing at the cellar door.
“But why? You’re family.” Jason had been closer to Mikey than his brother Billy, since they were the same age. His heart would’ve broken if it weren’t already at the bottom of the cellar stairs with Patrick.
Mikey sneered. “You think I should be grateful your parents took me in? My parents are losers, but they let me live my life my way. I was happy at Cranfield House in that shitty apartment. And then your parents took me away and paraded me around as a pathetic charity case, when your dad wasn’t treating me like a lesser version of you.”
Jason winced. Why hadn’t Mikey told him any of this before? Jason had suffered under his father’s expectations, too. If only they’d talked, Jason could have stopped these feelings of resentment from spiraling out of control. They might have even helped each other.
“And worst of all, they took me away from Carrie.”
As if by cue, Carrie appeared in the cellar doorway, dishevelled, her nose bleeding sluggishly. Mikey’s face brightened with adoration, not noticing how she completely ignored him as she leveled Jason with a calculating stare.
“And then there was one,” she said, her voice cool and calm.
She hefted the axe, the faint moonlight glinting off the steel surface. Jason’s breath hitched as he fought the sting of tears behind his eyes. He didn’t want to give her and Mikey the satisfaction. “Patrick?” he croaked.
“Out of commission, thanks to Michael.”
Mikey beamed at Carrie like an eager puppy. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for years. He’s such an insufferable prick.”
“You should’ve killed him in the woods when you had the chance.”
“It’s not my fault he got away.” Mikey’s lower lip jutted like a drawer. Jason wanted to smack that mouth right off his face.
Carrie patted Mikey on the cheek. “It’s all right, Michael. I understand. Slipups happen. It worked to our advantage when you couldn’t manage to drown Tiffany. It gave me the opportunity to appear trustworthy.”
Carrie thought she was being kind, but Jason could almost see the steam shooting from Mikey’s head. His cousin’s cheeks flushed to a ruddy pink.
“I don’t make mistakes,” Mikey said petulantly, the knife slipping from Jason’s neck as he turned to face Carrie. “I got Jen, didn’t I?”
That was the distraction Jason needed. He didn’t care that both Mikey and Carrie were armed. The black cloud he’d been trying to keep at bay for months crept to the edges of his consciousness. This time the storm clarified his intentions instead of confusing them further. He had nothing to lose, except his life, and the chances of him keeping that were as slim as the professional-grade steel of the chef’s knife.
He pulled his arm back and punched his asshole cousin with enough force to send him into next week.
He put everything he had into that punch. The hurt and betrayal, the disgust and horror, the fury and grief. All the frustration and rage he’d been holding back for the past months, because, why not? Now he could funnel it into good. There was a satisfying crunch as his knuckles met Mikey’s face. Mikey dropped the phone and howled like an injured dog. For a split second, Jason enjoyed that both Mikey and Carrie had broken noses. Only for a second, however.