Blood Games

    She saw the pale strip of granite along the rear of the lodge and wondered if she would miss it. As her legs swept down behind her, she saw the shadowed wall of the lodge and then the porch above her… the porch with its damn railing that she’d dived right under… then the second-story porch, then the edge of the roof. The moon was straight above her face when the ground crashed her rump. Her legs and back slammed down. Her head smacked.

    Lights flared behind her eyes.

    You do see stars, she thought.

    Not just in the cartoons.

    There was a roar in her head. A roar and a blazing pain. Her whole body seemed to be roaring inside.

    She wondered if this was how it felt to get hit by a car.

    No. It’s how you feel if you go through a window and fall a story.

    She wondered if she was conscious.

    I must be. I’m thinking.

    Maybe dreaming I’m thinking.

    At least I’m alive.

    And I got away from him.

    Jim!

    She opened her eyes. Standing at her feet, naked and pale in the moonlight, was Helen.

    Helen. Though the handle of a knife jutted from her belly, Abilene saw no blood, no guts spilling out, no rips at all in her skin.

    Joy welled up through her agony. It was followed quickly by terrible sorrow, for she knew this couldn’t be Helen. Not really. She was either dreaming or hallucinating. Helen was dead. Had to be.

    ‘Rough night, huh?’ Helen asked.

    ‘My God.’

    ‘How you feeling? Pretty shitty, I guess.’

    ‘You… you’re alive?’

    ‘No such luck.’

    ‘I don’t…’

    ‘Don’t you know a ghost when you see one?’ She smiled. ‘I couldn’t find a white sheet. But this is okay. It’s a pretty hot night.’ She raised her arms and looked up at the sky. ‘A gorgeous night.’ Her arms lowered. Her smile slipped away. ‘But look, you haven’t got much time. You’ve got to pull yourself together before Jim shows up. He didn’t want to hurt himself following you through the window, so he’ll be coming out the kitchen door. Any second now.’

    Groaning, Abilene pushed at the ground with her elbow. She braced herself up.

    ‘Come and pay me a visit,’ Helen told her. ‘I’ve got something that’ll help.’ Her fingers closed around the knife handle. She slipped the long, thick blade from her belly. It came out, leaving no wound behind. ‘It’s his, after all. You can give it back to him.’

    And Helen was gone.

    And Jim lurched across the porch and rushed down the stairs. He’d lost his cut-offs. But he hadn’t lost his knife. It jumped up and down in his right hand, flashing silver moonlight.

    Not his knife, Abilene thought as she struggled to her feet.

    Finley’s knife.

    His is in Helen. In the shower room.

    I’m supposed to get it.

    But how?

    Jim leaped off the last stairs and turned toward Abilene. Between her and the outer pool. But he no longer seemed to be in a hurry, maybe because she wasn’t running.

    ‘Gotcha now,’ he said.

    With each step Jim took toward her, she sidestepped away from the lodge. Moving slowly further into the field. Limping, every muscle hot and sore, her broken finger throbbing, each cut afire with pain. Her blouse hugged her back, sodden with blood that slid down and soaked her skirt and panties. Blood dribbled down both her legs.

    She wondered if she would have enough strength and quickness to get past him.

    Probably not.

    Gotta give it the old college try.

    She kept stepping sideways, circling away from Jim as he walked toward her. Soon, he was no longer in the way of the pool. She was tempted to go for it. But he probably wouldn’t have any trouble cutting her off.

    She had circled far enough that every step now carried her closer to the pool.

    If we keep this up much longer, she thought, I won’t need to run past him at all. I’ll end up right there.

    But he’s going to get tired of this game.

    Any second, he’ll come running at me.

    Abilene whirled and broke for the pool. She raced for its edge, arms pumping, legs striding out long and fast. Pain surged through her head. Her back sizzled as if fiery grease had been splashed on all the nicks and gashes from her shoulders to her ankles. She knew she couldn’t outrun her agony. She only hoped she could outrun Jim as he closed in on her from the side.

    Sprinting full speed, glancing to her left and seeing Jim almost near enough to touch, she didn’t wait for the pool. She dived.

    Deja vu.

    Just like diving through the window, but no glass this time. And no porch floor rushing out from under her. This time, it was granite and she hoped her plunging body would clear its edge.

    She hit the surface flat out, arms extended. It smacked her, enveloped her.

    She knew she’d entered at an angle that would collide her with the side of the archway, so she rolled and kicked to the left. Her breasts scraped something. Her belly bumped. She twisted away and met no other obstruction as she glided forward.

    She heard a hollow, muffled splash.

    He’s in.