Blood Games

    ‘It’s like a place out of one of those damn slasher movies Helen’s so crazy about,’ Finley said. ‘Where the crazy guy with the machete hangs out.’

    ‘Hope she’s in there appreciating it,’ Cora said.

    ‘Let’s find out,’ said Finley. She set down the water bottle and chips, studied the ground for a moment, then picked up a chunk of rock the size of a hardball.

    Abilene’s stomach seemed to drop.

    Cora had been lugging around the tire iron all morning, and Abilene had seen that merely as a sensible precaution. But now, Finley had found herself a weapon.

    We aren’t just searching anymore, she realized.

    Jesus.

    This might be where Helen is. We might be about to find her. And we might be about to face whoever took her. A minute from now, we could be fighting for her life - and for ours.

    Suddenly trembling, she glanced around the base of the tree. She spotted a rock half-hidden under the matted leaves and grabbed it. The chip of granite was as large as her hand, shaped roughly like the head of a hatchet.

    Vivian picked up a broken limb. It was two inches thick and nearly a yard long.

    ‘Everyone ready?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Let’s rock ’n roll,’ Finley said.

    They stepped out from behind the tree. Abilene was relieved to see that Cora, leading the way, wasn’t heading for the front of the cabin. The plan, apparently, was to circle around its rear and check things out before going in.

    The wall of the cabin had a single window. It was open, but Abilene could see nothing through its rusty screen or the glass panes at the top.

    She kept her eyes on it, fearing that a face might suddenly loom out of the darkness and push against the screen.

    Finley, hunched over, broke away from the line and took one step toward the window before Abilene clutched the damp collar of her shirt. Finley glanced back at her. Abilene shook her head. Frowning, Finley shrugged. But she said nothing, and resumed her position behind Vivian.

    They passed the rear corner of the cabin.

    There were two windows, one on either side of the back door. Wooden stairs descended from the door to a path which led through the center of the garden and into the woods. Scanning the area, Abilene saw no one.

    She watched the door and windows, only turning away from them when Cora halted in front of the first shed. It looked to Abilene like an outhouse. Its flimsy door had no handle and was latched shut by a hook and eye.

    Cora reached for the hook.

    My God, Abilene thought, does she think Helen’s in there?

    Cora flicked up the hook. The door swung open, groaning on its ancient hinges. The draft of its opening swept out a miasma of hot, foul air.

    Nothing inside but a bench with a hole in it, and a swarm of buzzing flies.

    While the others stepped away from the foul aromas, Cora closed the door and hooked it shut.

    They followed a path through the garden to the other shed. It was three times the size of the outhouse - a more likely place for keeping a prisoner. Abilene could picture Helen inside, sprawled on the dirt floor, bound with ropes, a gag in her mouth.

    But Cora opened the door and nobody was there.

    Peering into the gloom, Abilene saw shovels, rakes, hoes, a scythe, fishing gear and an ax. Shelves laden with bottles and jars.

    ‘Jeez,’ Finley whispered, ‘we can sure improve on our weaponry.’

    They stepped into the shed. The hot, heavy air smelled sweet and musty.

    Finley dropped her rock and picked up the ax.

    ‘I don’t know if you should do that,’ Vivian whispered.

    ‘Christ on a crutch,’ Cora gasped. She took a jar down from a shelf and looked at it more closely. ‘Chicken heads.’

    ‘What?’

    They gathered around her.

    In the dim light from the doorway, Abilene saw that the heads of at least half a dozen chickens were drifting about in the jar’s murky yellow fluid. She glimpsed their tiny black eyes, their open beaks. Then she looked away fast.

    Vivian gagged.

    ‘Why would anyone want to save chicken heads?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Appetizers?’ Finley suggested.

    Cora replaced the jar on its shelf. She lifted down another and held it toward the light. ‘Oh my God.’

    Abilene took a quick look.

    The things suspended inside the bottle looked back at her.

    Eyeballs.

    ‘Holy shit,’ Finley said.

    ‘They probably aren’t human,’ Cora whispered. ‘Maybe from pigs or…’

    The crash of an explosion slammed Abilene’s ears. She jumped. They all jumped. Cora dropped the jar. Ears stunned by the blast, Abilene didn’t hear the jar shatter. But it did. Warm liquid splashed her ankles. Eyeballs rolled.

    The door of the shed slammed shut.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

    The explosion must’ve been a gunshot. From the noise of it, Abilene figured it had been fired from only a few feet away. During the moment between the blast and the door flying shut, however, she’d seen none of her friends react as if hit.

    ‘Is everybody okay?’ she whispered.

    ‘Just fine,’ Finley muttered.

    ‘What was that?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Sounded like a shotgun,’ Vivian said.

    ‘We’re in deep shit,’ Finley said.