Blood Games

    Cora’s face was a dark oval smudge against the white of Vivian’s shorts. Of course, the shorts didn’t look any whiter than had Finley’s eyes and teeth. They were dingy gray, the same as her knit pullover. But that gray seemed to be brighter than anything else in sight.

    Vivian’s clothes almost glowed in the dark.

    Her legs were crossed and she was leaning backward, braced up with dim arms.

    Her shirt looked very much like a ghostly apparition floating at an angle above the floor, nobody in it at all.

    The Tipton Shirt without the Tipton Girl.

    This isn’t a Tipton, she reminded herself. It’s a Ralph Lauren or something.

    And awfully damn visible.

    If I can see it this well, Abilene thought, anyone can.

    Including Hank.

    That outfit could blow us all out of the water.

    Why the hell didn’t she change her clothes!

    Too late for that. Way too late for that. Shit!

    Oughta make her take ’em off.

    Calm down, she told herself. It’s not like Viv did it on purpose. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that she would stand out like this.

    Hadn’t occurred to the rest of us, either.

    Any of us might’ve ended up dressed in white. The whole idea of trying to blend in with the darkness simply hadn’t come up.

    She’d blend in a lot better if she did take off those clothes.

    They’re a hell of a lot brighter than her skin.

    Abilene considered suggesting it.

    Oh yeah, she thought. Right. Ask her to strip down. Sure thing. We’re up here waiting for a Goddamn homicidal sex pervert to show up and I calmly ask Viv to get naked. Brilliant. Forget it.

    Too bad Finley isn’t the one in white. She’d be delighted to shuck off every stitch.

    Abilene looked down at herself. Her own plaid blouse was dark, her skirt as black as the night. But the short skirt was rucked up high because of how she sat. She saw that she, too, was wearing white.

    I’m not taking off my panties.

    Besides, nobody down below could possibly be in a position to see the small bit of pale fabric.

    For that matter, she realized, Vivian was far enough from the railing that no one on the ground floor should be able to see her white clothes, either.

    Only if Hank were actually up here…

    Abilene peered into the darkness beyond Vivian. She saw nothing.

    He could be right there, right now.

    We would’ve heard him, she told herself. You can’t take a step in this old place without a floorboard creaking.

    But maybe he can.

    We should’ve prepared better, she thought. Why didn’t we bring the trash box with us? If we’d set up empty cans and bottles across the balcony floor, they’d be kicked over by anyone sneaking toward us.

    Or we could’ve strung a rope across it to trip him.

    We don’t have enough rope for that, she realized. But we could’ve used belts or something. Anything to make him trip or at least make noise.

    Too late for that kind of thing, now.

    Unless a couple of us want to hurry back to the car.

    And that’s exactly when Hank would show up.

    If he’s not already here.

    Standing just on the other side of Vivian. Wearing something dark. A knife in his hand.

    I’d be able to see his eyes, she thought. Without lids, they must look huge. There’d be big white orbs…

    No, they’re red. Jim had said they’re red.

    Cora’s shorts were red, and you can’t see them.

    Abilene reached down, fumbled in the fold of denim on her lap, and wrapped her hand around the flashlight. She raised it and aimed it past Vivian.

    Before she could thumb the switch, her left arm was grabbed. She flinched and gasped.

    ‘What’re you doing?’ Finley whispered.

    ‘I’ve got to see.'

    ‘Shhhh,’ came from her other side.

    ‘He might be here,’ Finley warned, ignoring the shush. ‘Keep that light off.’

    ‘Shit.’

    ‘Shhhh.’

    Abilene lowered the flashlight to her lap. She sighed.

    He probably isn’t up here, anyway. Probably. We probably would’ve heard him. And he probably wouldn’t just stand there, watching us. He’d have done something by now. Like plunge his knife into Vivian’s chest and slash Cora’s throat.

    So he’s not here.

    Not yet.

    Probably.

    Abilene finally calmed down.

    As time passed, she saw others shifting their positions. Cora lowered her knee, stretching out her leg. She sat up and hooked an arm around a baluster and peered down. Vivian’s tilted shirt sank down until its back met the floor. Her knees rose like a couple of dim peaks. Finley stood up for a while, then squatted like a baseball umpire.