Blood Games

    Abilene realized that her own rump and legs had become numb. She scooted away from the railing, uncrossed her legs and pushed herself backward. Instead of meeting the wall, she was stopped by a door. She slumped against it and stretched out her legs.

    Much better.

    For a while, she suffered pins and needles. But the hot tingly sensations soon passed.

    From here, she had no view of the ground floor.

    Neither did Vivian, lying down the way she was.

    But Cora and Finley were keeping watch on the area below. And Jim was down there.

    Hope he’s not asleep, she thought.

    But even if he’s wide awake, he’ll be the last to know if Hank comes in up here.

    The whole plan falls apart if Hank decides to climb the outside stairs to the second-story porch. He might enter through the door at the end of the corridor. Or he might use the broken window and get into that room, just as Abilene had done yesterday. The squirrel room.

    He could come out of it, sneak into one of the rooms on this side of the hallway, and open one of these doors. Then he’d be right here with us on the balcony.

    Abilene wished she hadn’t thought of that.

    All the doors are locked, she reminded herself.

    What if he has a key?

    He doesn’t. He probably doesn’t.

    And he sure couldn’t break into one of these rooms without us hearing him.

    He might be in the one right behind me.

    No way.

    But now that the idea had come to her, she found herself waiting for the door at her back to swing inward, dropping her across the threshold. She saw herself falling, saw Hank crouch out of the darkness and grab her arms, felt him pulling, dragging her into the room. Before the others even knew what was happening, he would slam the door. Locking them out. Locking her inside the black room with him.

    Crazy.

    Don’t think about it.

    She couldn’t not think about it, so she leaned forward to get her weight off the door, then scooted sideways until her back found the safety of the wall. One of her feet accidentally nudged Finley’s rump. Finley let out a quick gasp, popped up from her squat as if springs had been triggered, and glanced around at her.

    She’s jumpy, too, Abilene thought.

    Of course she is. She’s got more guts than any of us, but you’d have to be a damned robot not to be scared at a time like this.

    ‘That you?’ Jim’s voice in the stillness shot ice through Abilene’s body.

    Finley’s back stiffened and she raised the shotgun to her shoulder.

    Cora, twisting sideways, grabbed two of the railing uprights and peered down.

    Vivian sat up fast, her pale shirt a moving blur.

    Abilene drew in her feet. She grabbed the flashlight, then straightened her legs, sliding her back slowly up the wall as Jim said, ‘Over here. They got me tied.’ Shaking all over, heart slamming, she took a step forward. A floorboard creaked under her weight. Praying that Hank hadn’t heard it, she took another step.

    Finley was already up against the railing.

    Vivian, at the other side of Cora, was on her feet.

    Abilene took one more step and felt the split log push against her waist. She gazed down into the blackness. She could see enough of Jim to realize he no longer sat on the floor. He was standing up. Probably looking toward Hank, but she couldn’t make out which way his head was turned - or whether it was turned at all.

    Then a black shape slid across Jim, and Abilene could see nothing more of him. She aimed her dark flashlight down at the place where Jim had been standing only a moment ago.

    Where he’s still standing, she thought.

    Only someone’s in front of him.

    Jesus, this is it. This is it!

    With her empty hand, she squeezed the top rail to hold herself steady as terror sucked the strength from her legs.

    ‘Where’s them gals?’ Little more than a raspy, dry whisper. ‘I want ’em, Jimmy.’

    From Abilene’s left came a solid metallic snick-clack. Finley thumbing back a hammer of the shotgun.

    ‘We’re right here, asshole!’ Finley yelled.

    Abilene thrust the flashlight switch forward. Apparently, Vivian did the same, for suddenly two bright beams were slanting downward, lighting the intruder who stood in front of Jim.

    He was skinny. He was naked. He was red. A savage in gory warpaint.

    He looked as if he’d moments ago climbed out of a bathtub full of blood - or dumped a bucket of it over his head.

    He carried a long white bone with joint knobs at each end.

    His other arm hung limp, swaying at his side.

    And Abilene knew this wasn’t Hank.

    She knew in an instant, even before Batty spun around and squinted up into the light and the thunder of a gun blast clapped her ears.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

    The load caught Batty just below the neck. It bit out a big chunk. Blood exploded from the cavity. The red sacks of Batty’s breasts jumped shoulder-high. The bone flew into the darkness and his broken arm leaped, flopping, as the blow slammed Batty backward.

    The old lunatic’s head pounded Jim in the belly. It bounced off the muscles there, which knocked it sideways.

    Batty crashed to the floor and lay motionless, head between Jim’s feet.