Blood Games

    The cat twitched its tail.

    No response from Batty.

    Maybe the cat had come to the lodge by itself.

    From where they stood at the top of the stairs, only a small portion of the pool was visible. Abilene could see nobody in the water. The stretch of granite where they’d climbed out last night was dry.

    ‘How the hell did it get down here?’ Finley asked.

    ‘A window?’ Abilene suggested.

    ‘They’re awfully high.’

    ‘It obviously didn’t swim in,’ Abilene said. The white fur wasn’t wet. And if the cat had come in through the archway, the water would’ve washed the blood from its face.

    The blood, she realized, looked very red and wet.

    Her stomach seemed to drop.

    It’s got to be our blood, she told herself. The leftovers from Batty’s bowl. It’s got to be.

    But she knew it wasn’t.

    She started down the stairs. The cat watched her, waited. When she was halfway to the bottom, it rose and casually strolled away to the left.

    To the door marked Gents.

    The door was open. Just a few inches.

    Abilene felt as if her breath had been kicked out.

    ‘God, the door’s open!’ she gasped.

    The cat slipped through the gap.

    ‘Wait for us! ’ Cora snapped.

    Abilene stopped at the door. She gasped for air. Her heart thudded hard and fast.

    ‘Helen?’ she called into the dark gap.

    ‘Eeeeeoww.’

    The others clustered behind her.

    ‘Oh Jesus, I’m scared,’ Vivian whispered.

    Abilene shoved the door open wide. It groaned on its hinges. No window. Total blackness. She raised her flashlight, and its beam pushed a funnel of brightness through the dark. All she saw was a bench just to the left, a high bank of lockers in front of it.

    She stepped forward. Hot, stale air wrapped around her. It smelled ancient, foul. It clogged her nostrils and seemed to coat the lining of her windpipe.

    Finley brushed against her side. Both flashlights darted about. ‘Smells like somebody took a dump in here,’ she muttered.

    ‘Where’s the fucking cat?’ Cora said.

    Finley stepped sideways, and Abilene followed her past the end of the lockers. Clear floor. A couple of sinks, two urinals. Against the back wall was a toilet stall, its door hanging open and nobody inside. The stall was enclosed on its far side by a wall that extended outward to within a few feet of another bench.

    ‘Showers are probably in there,’ Finley said, and pointed her light at a wide entry way facing the lockers.

    Showers.

    Oh God, Abilene thought.

    Helen can’t be in there. Can’t be! She’s terrified of shower rooms.

    Fighting for air that was thick and rank, Abilene followed Finley. They stopped in front of the opening, Cora and Vivian at their backs. They searched it with their flashlights.

    It was a shower room.

    Nozzles high on the walls.

    Helen on the floor.

    Sprawled on her back, arms at her sides, legs spread, swimsuit gone, the handle of a knife standing upright from the gory mound of her belly, her head turned, her open eyes greeting her friends with a blank stare.

    The white cat, near her hip, lapped at the lake of blood.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

BELMORE GIRLS

    ‘Virginia Finley, but everybody calls me Finley. The reason I’m calling, I’m a student at Belmore University, and I’d really like your permission to make a film of one of your stories… The one in The Book of the Dead… Right, that’s the one. A friend of mine read it and it really grossed her out. Anyway, I’ve read it a few times now and I think it’d make a neat little film. The thing is, I need to come up with a showpiece, sort of, to submit for acceptance into a film program down there in Los Angeles. I think “Mess Hall” would be perfect. I’ve got a friend who’s already agreed to write the script.’ Grinning across the room at Abilene, Finley added, ‘She’s the daughter of Alex Randolph… You think so? I’ll have to tell her. Anyway, she’d do the script and we’d shoot the film out here on video tape. If it’s okay with you… Yeah, just the rights to make this production of it for amateur purposes only. I’d pay you a whopping one dollar… Great… You can count on it. I’ll make you a copy myself and sent it to you as soon as it’s finished… Yeah, I’ll send along a contract tomorrow. If there’s anything you don’t like about it, just let me know. And, you know, sometimes things happen with these student productions. If the right person likes it… Yeah, you and me both. Anyway, you’d get a percentage of any deal that might come up for a feature film, television, whatever… Right, fabulous wealth… Thanks, I’ll need it. And thanks very much for letting me do this. I really appreciate it.’ She nodded, smiling. ‘Okay. And I’ll get the contract to you right away… Bye-bye for now.’

    Finley hung up. She took a deep breath, and let it out loudly. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘He was really friendly and cheerful.’

    ‘See? What’d I tell you? Can’t judge a guy by the kind of stories he writes.’

    ‘Geez, but “Mess Hall”? I figured he’d have to be some kind of sleezy creepoid. By the way, he said he’s read all your dad’s books and thinks he’s great.’

    ‘The man’s got taste.’