Blood Games

    And she felt guilty when grief didn’t overwhelm her. She supposed that she must be just too thankful that the rest of them were still alive. If she’d been any less quick to grab Batty’s arm, Finley might be dead now, a knife in her back. If the boat had capsized in the middle of the lake…

    It didn’t. We’re okay.

    Shouldn’t have gone back to Batty’s.

    But it turned out all right. And we got the gun.

    She swung the shotgun out from under her arm and lowered it in front of her. As she wedged it into the space between her belly and thighs, the rain stopped pouring down.

    ‘Hey!’ Finley called. Twisting around, she turned an open hand toward the sky.

    Vivian and Cora rolled over, sat up.

    A few more drops fell as the wind dwindled. Soon, the raft settled to a gentle, rocking motion.

    As the clouds scooted away, the sun came down so bright that Abilene had to squint. She watched the dark thunderheads fly over the tree tops beyond the shore. Though she could see rain falling into the forest, it no longer rushed down in a torrent. She saw no lightning, heard no thunder.

    Almost as if the storm was meant just for us, she thought. Almost as if Batty had created it to drown us.

    Ridiculous.

    Turning around, she peered across the brilliant water. She spotted some willows along the distant shore, but couldn’t figure out which might be the one below Batty’s cabin. There was no sign of Batty.

    ‘Well,’ Cora said. ‘Shall we get going?’

    ‘What about this?’ Abilene asked, lifting the shotgun. ‘I don’t think we can swim with it.’

    ‘We aren’t gonna leave it here,’ Finley said. ‘Not after all we went through to get it.’

    ‘Will it still fire?’ Cora asked.

    ‘A little water shouldn’t hurt it,’ Vivian said. ‘I’m not sure about the shells, though.’

    Finley dug a hand into her pocket. She pulled out one of the bright red cartridges and rolled it between her fingers as she studied it. ‘Looks like the thing’s plastic or something. Whatever, it seems watertight.’

    ‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘We take the shotgun.’ Standing up, she plucked the clinging seat of her shorts away from her rump. She scanned the water. Pointed.

    Abilene saw an oar floating on the swells. It bobbed gently, its shaft rubbing against a piling at the end of the dock.

    ‘Back in a second,’ Cora said, and dived off the raft. ‘Anybody feel like diving for the ax?’ Finley asked.

    ‘Be my guest,’ Vivian said. ‘I don’t want it. I’d rather not even have to look at it again.’

    ‘Are you the one who nailed the pussycat?’

    ‘You didn’t see?’

    ‘I was otherwise occupied at the time. But I noticed the after-math. You really…’

    ‘Stop, okay? I don’t want to hear about it.’

    ‘The cat had it coming,’ Abilene pointed out. To Finley she said, ‘If you’re going down for the ax, see if you can find my shoes. They might still be in the boat.’

    ‘Just leave the ax,’ Vivian muttered.

    ‘It might come in handy,’ Abilene said. ‘We could haul it up with the anchor rope.’

    ‘Viv doesn’t want it. I don’t want it. Do you want it?’

    ‘I’ve got Batty’s knife,’ she said. ‘I suppose I can get along without my shoes.’

    ‘Shouldn’t have taken them off.’

    ‘I try not to go swimming in them.’

    Their attention turned to Cora as she splashed closer, pushing the oar along in front of her. Finley lay down beside the ladder. She grabbed the oar and pulled it onto the raft.

    Still in the water, Cora said, ‘Let me have a knife.’

    Finley shoved the oar over to Vivian, then pulled her knife and handed it down.

    Standing up for a better view, Abilene saw Cora duck below the surface. The taut anchor line wobbled, then went slack. A moment later, Cora came up. She held the knife in her teeth while she plucked open the knot securing the rope to the ladder.

    She brought the section of rope onto the raft, sawed it in half, and used the two pieces to bind the shotgun to the oar.

    ‘That should do the job nicely,’ she said.

    ‘Do you think we should bother with the ax?’ Abilene asked. ‘Nobody seems to want it, anyway. And hauling it up wouldn’t be easy.’

    ‘I guess we can get along without it,’ Cora said. ‘The shotgun’s the main thing.’ Dragging the oar and shotgun along at her side, she scooted down to the sunken corner of the raft and eased into the water. The oar and weapon slipped beneath the surface. Instead of disappearing from sight, however, they slowly rose.

    As Vivian and Finley followed Cora into the lake, Abilene said, ‘I’ll be along in a minute.’ She dived off the side of the platform, plunged into the lake and kicked her way toward the bottom. The rays of sunlight slanting down through the water were cloudy with swirling motes. So much debris had been stirred up by the storm that she couldn’t see past the wrists of her outstretched arms. But the boat should be straight below her unless it had glided away after Cora cut the line.

    Slimy tendrils suddenly slid over her hands, up her forearms. Weeds. As they lapped her face with slick tongues, she shut her eyes and groaned.

    Screw the shoes.