Blood Games

Richard Laymon

Copyright © 1992 Richard Laymon

The right of Richard Laymon to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2012

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover photograph © Adrin Shamsudin/Shutterstock

Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

eISBN : 978 0 7553 9165 3

HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk

Richard Laymon wrote over thirty novels and seventy short stories. In May 2001, The Travelling Vampire Show won the Bram Stoker Award for Best Horror Novel, a prize for which Laymon had previously been shortlisted with Flesh, Funland, A Good, Secret Place (Best Anthology) and A Writer’s Tale (Best Non-fiction). Laymon’s works include the books of the Beast House Chronicles: The Celler, The Beast House and The Midnight Tour. Some of his recent novels have been Night in the Lonesome October, No Sanctuary and Amara.

A native of Chicago, Laymon attended Willamette University in Salem, Oregon, and too an MA in English Literature from Loyola University, Los Angeles. In 2000, he was elected President of the Horror Writers’ Association. He died in February 2001.

Laymon’s fiction is published in the United Kingdom by Headline, and in the United States by Leisure Books and Cemetery Dance Publications.

Praise for Richard Laymon:

‘This author knows how to sock it to the reader’ The Times

‘A brilliant writer’ Sunday Express

‘No one writes like Laymon and you’re going to have a good time with anything he writes’ Dean Koontz

‘In Laymon’s books, blood doesn’t so much as drip as explode, splatter and coagulate’ Independent

‘Stephen King without a conscience’ Dan Marlowe

‘Incapable of writing a disappointing book’ New York Review of Science Fiction

‘A gut-crunching writer’ Time Out

‘This is an author that does not pull his punches…A gripping, and at times genuinely shocking, read’ SFX Magazine

Also by Richard Laymon and published by Headline

The Beast House Trilogy:

The Cellar

The Beast House

The Midnight Tour

Beware!

Dark Mountain

The Woods are Dark

Out are the Lights

Night Show

Allhallow’s Eve

Flesh

Resurrection Dreams

Alarums

Blood Games

Endless Night

Midnight’s Lair*

Savage

In The Dark

Island

Quake

Body Rides

Bite

Fiends

After Midnight

Among the Missing

Come Out Tonight

The Travelling Vampire Show

Dreadful Tales

Night in the Lonesome October

No Sanctuary

Amara

The Lake

The Glory Bus

Funland

The Stake

*previously published under the pseudonym of Richard Kelly

This book is dedicated

to Mom and Dad

with love and thanks.

I’m proud to be your kid.

CHAPTER ONE

‘Where are we going?’ Finley asked. ‘To grandmother’s house?’

Helen, behind the steering wheel of the rented Wagoneer, grinned over her shoulder and sang, ‘Over the river and through the woods …’

‘Hoping we’ll run into the Big Bad Wolf?’ Abilene said.

‘Finley’d like that,’ Cora said from the front seat.

‘Gimme a break. I’ve sworn off guys.’

‘Since when?’ Abilene asked.

‘Since last summer and surfin’ Sam, or whatever his name was.’

‘You don’t even remember his name?’ Helen asked.

‘He was just another hunk to the Fin-man,’ Abilene said.

Finley jammed an elbow into her side. ‘Rick. His name was Rick. But I’ve reformed. I promise to be a good girl.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ Cora said.

‘Where we’re going,’ Helen explained, ‘I don’t imagine we’ll be running into any fellas.’

‘I sure hope this isn’t a camping trip,’ Vivian said.

‘What’ve you got against fresh air?’ Cora asked.

‘Fresh air’s fine. But I can get it without flying three thousand miles.’

‘You sure don’t get it living in L.A.’

‘Viv’s just afraid she’ll get her clothes dirty,’ Abilene said.

Vivian leaned forward to see past Finley, who was sitting between them in the back seat, and told Abilene, ‘If I wanted to rough it in the great outdoors, I would’ve joined the Girl Scouts.’ Wrinkling her nose, she settled back and muttered, ‘This sure has all the earmarks of a camping trip.’

‘You just never know,’ Helen said, sounding pleased with herself.

‘It should’ve tipped you off,’ Abilene said, ‘when she told us to bring sleeping bags and grubbies.’

‘That could mean anything.’

‘It meant we weren’t going to a Marriott.’ In spite of that, Abilene doubted that they were being taken on a camping trip. A week in the wilds might’ve been Cora’s idea of fun, but this trip was Helen’s choice and Helen was neither athletic nor a fan of Mother Nature. She was more inclined toward sedentary, dark pursuits: reading scary novels and true crime books; watching movies that usually featured mad killers using knives, axes and chainsaws to slaughter teenagers. If her choice of adventures involved camping, it was likely to be done in a graveyard.

‘I know where we’re going,’ she said. ‘To the Pet Semetary.’

Helen laughed. ‘Close, but no prize.’

‘Close?’ Vivian muttered. ‘Oh, terrific.’

‘Wherever I’m taking you, we’ll be coming up on it pretty soon.’

‘How soon?’ Finley asked.

‘According to the odometer, it should be about three more miles.’

‘Pull over and let me out, okay? I’ll get our arrival for posterity.’

‘Oh, great,’ Abilene said. ‘The epic. Thank God we didn’t have to suffer through that last night.’

‘Gimme a break. You love it.’

‘I hate some of it.’

‘I’d like to see it again,’ Helen said. ‘Maybe the night before we fly out.’

‘My friend.’ Finley leaned forward and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Now, let me out.’

Helen stopped the car without pulling over. There was no need to leave the road, since it had been devoid of traffic for the entire half hour they’d been on it. While Vivian opened her door and climbed out, Finley twisted around and reached over the seat back. She grabbed her video camcorder, scooted across the seat and got out. Vivian climbed in.

Finley went to the front of the car, stepped from its bumper onto the hood, and walked toward the windshield. The thin metal sank under each footstep and popped up when her weight was gone, making quiet bongey sounds.

‘Christ,’ Cora muttered.

‘Boys will be boys,’ Helen said.

Abilene realized that Finley, today more than usual, looked a lot more like a kid than like a twenty-five-year-old woman. She was small and slender. Her brown hair was cut very short. Her outfit masked what she had of a figure and would’ve been just the thing for a young fellow embarking on a safari; the baggy tan shirt hung loose nearly to the cuffs of her baggy tan shorts, and sported not only shoulder epaulettes but a multitude of deep pockets, flaps and brass buttons.

Of course, most boys probably wouldn’t be caught dead wearing hot pink knee socks.

The knee socks and white Reeboks were all that Abilene could see of Finley now that the girl was perched on the roof of the car, calves pressed against the windshield.

‘Let’s roll, gang!’ she called from above.

‘You oughta really step on it,’ Cora whispered.

‘She might fall and break her neck,’ Helen said.

‘Even worse,’ Vivian said, ‘she might break her camera. Then there’d really be hell to pay.’

Helen started the car forward. Slowly.

‘Turn the wipers on and give her a squirt,’ Abilene suggested.

‘That’d be cruel,’ Vivian said.

Cora, looking over her shoulder, said, ‘Abby, you’re a genius.’

‘Just mean.’

Helen leaned forward slightly. The windshield wipers began to sweep back and forth. Twin streams of water shot up. The blades bumped against Finley’s calves. The water soaked her socks. Her legs flew out of the way. ‘You bastards!’ she cried out.

Helen shut off the blades and fountains, then called out the window, ‘Sorry. My mistake.’

‘Mistake my butt. I’ll get all of you for this. You mess with the Fin-man, you pay.’

‘We’re trembling!’ Abilene called.

‘It was your idea, wasn’t it?’

‘Whose?’

‘You! I know it was you, Hickok. You’ll die.’

‘Oh, quit ranting and film your epic.’

Finley’s legs returned to their previous positions against the windshield. Then her head appeared between her knees. Her face was upside down, her short hair blowing in the breeze. Though she said nothing, her lips twitched and writhed ferociously as if she were spitting out obscenities.

‘Give her another dose.’

She must’ve heard that. Her head went away fast.

‘Let’s just calm down, folks,’ she called.

Helen left the wipers alone.

She stayed in the northbound lane, not even crossing the faded paint of the center line to avoid fissures and pits in the pavement. It made for a bumpy ride. Abilene couldn’t fault her for being cautious, though. As desolate as the poor ruin of a road seemed to be, an excursion into the downhill lane would probably provoke a vehicle to materialize, speed around a blind curve and smash them. One of life’s little magic tricks. Just when you least expect it – wham.

A car could just as easily come racing around a curve on our side, she thought.

She began to wish that Finley wasn’t riding on the roof.

Helen stopped the car. ‘This must be it,’ she said, nodding toward a narrow road that slanted up the hillside to the right.

‘You don’t know?’ Vivian asked.

‘Do you think I’ve been here before? It’s just a place I read about. But this is where it ought to be, and it’s called The Totem Pole Lodge.’

‘Must be it, all right,’ Cora said.

At each side of the entrance road stood a totem pole. The old wooden columns depicted forest creatures, demons and beasts, and both had giant birds with outspread wings near their tops. One of the poles, tilted at a sharp angle, looked ready to fall onto any car daring to trespass.

Abilene supposed that the totems had probably once been decorated with bright paint. Now, however, they looked as if they’d been made of driftwood. Or dirty gray bone.

Vandals had carved names, initials, dates, hearts, and even a few swastikas into them. Some of the vandals must’ve shinnied up them to maim the higher areas. Near the top of the tilted pole, someone had left a hunting knife embedded in the blanched wood of a wing.

A metal sign, bent and rusted, was nailed at eye level to the upright pole. It read, KEEP OUT.

‘Why would a lodge have a sign telling people to keep out?’ Vivian asked.

‘It isn’t open to the public,’ Helen explained, and turned onto the entry road. The leaning post didn’t fall. But as the car nosed upward, Finley’s legs kicked away from the windshield. Abilene heard some thumps through the ceiling, and figured she must’ve tumbled backward. Seconds later, the legs returned.

‘I hope Finley kept her camera going,’ she said. ‘We’ll have some interesting views.’

‘Spinning tree tops,’ Cora said.

‘Some of these branches are awfully low.’ Helen sounded worried.

‘If we have a casualty, can we go home?’ Vivian asked.

‘You should be tickled,’ Cora told her. ‘This isn’t a campout.’

‘Right. Instead, we’re going to some damn lodge that isn’t open to the public. Who, exactly, is it open to?’

‘Just us,’ Helen said. ‘I hope. As far as I know, it’s been abandoned for about twelve years.’

‘Oh, great. Charming. I can see this is gonna be a thrill and a half.’

‘That’s the whole idea,’ Helen said.

‘Knowing you, it’s probably haunted.’

‘I guess we’ll find out.’

Just then, the road levelled out. The hood of the car lowered, revealing the area ahead. Abilene leaned a little to the right. Off in the distance, framed on both sides by Finley’s pink socks, was The Totem Pole Lodge.

Vivian leaned toward her. Their shoulders touched as they shared the view.

‘Utterly delightful,’ Vivian muttered.

‘Great, huh?’ Helen sounded as if the lodge fulfilled her best expectations.

‘What was this place?’ Cora asked.

‘Kind of a resort,’ Helen said.

‘A last resort,’ Vivian said.

‘It was famous for its hot springs. And its cuisine. People came here for cross-country skiing in the winter. It was a hunting lodge in hunting season. The rest of the time, people came for hiking and fishing, that kind of thing. The place was quite popular during its heyday.’

‘Looks like shit now,’ Cora said.

A fist reached down between Finley’s legs and rapped on the windshield. ‘Stop the car, okay?’

When it came to a halt, Abilene said, ‘This is far enough for me,’ and swung open her door. She climbed out. It felt good to be standing up after the long drive. She stretched. She peeled her moist blouse away from her back. She took a deep breath, enjoying the woodsy aromas.

If the lodge could simply pull a quick disappearing act, she thought, this might be a wonderful place.

A bit too hot, but …

Finley leaped down off the roof and landed beside her. ‘Awesome joint,’ she said, aiming her camera at the lodge.

‘“With the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.”’

‘Say what?’

The others climbed out of the car. They all stood motionless, staring at the lodge.

It was a broad, two-story structure with walls of gray stone that looked solid enough to last for a few thousand years and a steep shake roof that sagged near the middle and might not last through the next winter.

Some of the porch roof had already caved in, thanks to a tree branch. The branch, over near the north corner, looked like an arm torn from a giant and rammed down through the top of the porch, hand first. Its jagged stub protruded from the roof. Its lower limbs formed a leafless tangle blocking that end of the porch.

A few of the lodge’s upstairs windows were hidden behind closed shutters. Most of the shutters, however, hung open or dangled crooked or were simply gone. At least half of the windows that Abilene could see were broken.

At the center of the porch, straight ahead, the lodge’s front door stood open.

‘The doorman must’ve been expecting us,’ Abilene said.

‘Come on, Hickok, let’s you and me go on ahead. The rest of you guys wait till we’re there, then come on in and I’ll get the big arrival.’ Finley started toward the lodge.

Abilene joined her. Twigs and leaves crackled under their shoes.

Though the road was littered with debris from the surrounding forest, enough areas had been swept clear by the wind for Abilene to see patches of gray, cracked pavement. Weeds, wild grass, and even a few saplings grew in the fissures.

She came upon a broken sapling.

‘Look at this.’

‘So?’

She crouched over it. ‘Somebody’s been here. Recently, too. The leaves are still green.’ She folded a small leaf between her thumb and forefinger. It felt a little springy, but it split. ‘I bet it hasn’t been dead more than a week.’

‘Maybe Bambi stepped on it.’

‘Maybe this place isn’t as deserted as it looks.’

Finley wrinkled her nose. She nodded. ‘Come on.’

They continued toward the lodge. In front of the porch, the road flared out like a T. The lane on the right led past the lodge to a long ramshackle structure that appeared to be some kind of parking barn with empty stalls for at least a dozen vehicles. The other lane had a turn at the far corner of the porch and seemed to lead around toward the rear.

‘I guess this is close enough,’ Finley said. Halting at the foot of the porch stairs, she faced the road, raised her camera and shouted, ‘Action!’

For a moment, Abilene watched the Wagoneer rush forward. But the back of her neck felt crawly. She turned her head and stared at the open door.

All she could see beyond it was shadowy gloom.

We must be out of our minds, she thought, coming to a place like this. Just for the fun of it. Just for adventure.

We must be crazy.

Hell, weren’t we always?

CHAPTER TWO

Belmore Girls

It started with Finley and her new, portable video camera.

It started at Belmore University in the east wing, second floor of Hadley Hall, one of the campus’s two dormitories for freshman girls. The girls were eighteen, then.

It was the third week of September.

It was a Wednesday night.

Abilene’s roommate, Helen Winters, was hunched at her desk, face low over the pages of a Western Civ textbook. Abilene sat at the window, her back to the hot night, hoping to catch a stray breeze while she struggled to make sense of Othello. With a sigh, she closed the paperback.

‘God, it’s hard to think when you’re baking.’

Helen dropped a yellow hi-lite pen into the gutter of her book. She turned her chair around. She looked forlorn, miserable. And even more unattractive than usual. Her brown hair, cut in a style resembling a football helmet, was greasy and matted against her scalp. Wet ringlets clung to her face. She had speckles of sweat under her eyes. Dribbles streaked her heavy cheeks. In the crease of one nostril was a white-peaked zit that looked ready to erupt. Her lower lip bulged out so far that it cast a shadow over her chin.

Sullen eyes gazing up at Abilene, she said, ‘I hate everything about this place.’

‘It’s probably just the heat.’

‘It’s everything.’

‘Homesick?’

‘That’s a good one.’

‘I sure am. I wish I was there right now. Mill Valley’s great this time of the year. I sure wouldn’t be sweating my butt off.’

‘Do you want to take a shower with me?’

Abilene felt as if her stomach had been pushed off a cliff. She realized her mouth was hanging open. She shut it. Not knowing what to say, she shrugged.

Helen blew out a long breath that puffed out her cheeks and lips. She rolled her eyes upward. ‘Hey, if you don’t want to, it’s all right.’

‘Well …’

‘You aren’t a lesbian, are you?’

Abilene’s face went hot. ‘No!’ she blurted.

‘Me, neither.’

‘Well, that’s good. Not that … you know.’

‘So how about a shower?’

‘Now?’

‘Yeah. It’ll feel good.’

She grimaced. ‘I don’t know. I was planning to wait till morning.’

‘Please?’

‘Geez, Helen.’

‘It’s just that … I really don’t want to go alone. There might be some other people there. Strangers.’

‘If anyone’s there, it’ll just be kids from our sector.’

‘But I don’t know any of them. Not really. And they kind of scare me. If you want to know the truth, I haven’t taken a shower since last Thursday night.’

‘Last Thursday?’

‘I just haven’t quite worked up the nerve again.’

‘Did something happen?’

‘Well, that was the night I walked to the movies. I saw a really scary one. It was great. You were asleep when I got back. The place was really quiet. I thought everybody in the whole sector was asleep, so I figured it would be a great time to take my shower. Anyway, I was in there and all of a sudden the lights went off. Somebody turned them off. It was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing. I couldn’t hear much, either, because of the water. I was sort of spooked, but I figured it was just some creep’s idea of a joke. So I went on taking my shower. I was soaping myself, you know? And suddenly there was an extra hand on me.’

‘Holy shit,’ Abilene muttered.

‘The one that wasn’t mine … it squeezed one of my breasts. I kind of jumped back and slipped and landed on my butt.’ She shrugged. Making a sickish smile, she said, ‘And that’s the true story of why I haven’t taken a shower since Thursday night.’

‘No wonder.’

‘So, will you come with me?’

‘Okay. Sure.’

‘Great. You’re a real friend.’

‘Hey, after hearing that, I’m not sure I want to take any more showers alone, myself.’ Abilene shoved the chair out of the way with her feet, scooted off the low bookcase and stood up. ‘What happened after you fell?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Well, I sat there for a real long time. But nobody touched me again. Whoever it was just left, I guess. Finally, I worked up enough nerve to get up and leave.’

‘God,’ Abilene muttered. ‘You never got any kind of look at her? She never said anything, or …?’

‘For all I know, it might’ve been a guy.’

‘Jesus.’

‘It probably wasn’t,’ Helen said, and started to unbutton her blouse.

Abilene took that as her cue to move on. She walked past her bed. Facing her open closet, she stripped to the waist and put on her robe. Then she pulled down her shorts and panties, stepped out of them, and knotted her robe’s cloth belt. She didn’t realize, until she was done, that it was a pretty dumb way to undress.

Why worry about modesty at a time like this?

From their first night as roommates, less than two weeks ago, they’d maintained unspoken rituals to keep their privacy. They’d jumped at every opportunity to change while the other was away from the room. When that failed, they’d turned their backs to each other. Abilene often stood facing her closet – more to avoid a view of Helen than to prevent Helen from seeing her.

Silly.

If they’d been more open about things, maybe Helen wouldn’t have felt compelled to take that shower alone in the middle of the night.

She crouched, scooped up her clothes, and sidestepped past her dresser. She tossed them onto her bed. ‘You about ready?’

‘Yeah.’

She turned around. Helen had her nightgown on, but her arms weren’t in its sleeves. They were busy underneath the loose gown, removing her bra. When they appeared, one was towing the undergarment out through a sleeve.

‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’ Helen asked.

‘About what happened?’

‘Yeah. It’s … you know, kind of embarrassing. There’d be an awful lot of gossip. I’d rather just forget about the whole thing, okay?’

‘Fine. I won’t tell. We don’t know who it was, anyway. It’d just spook people.’

‘Thanks.’

They gathered their washcloths, towels, soap and shampoo. Abilene dropped her room key into a pocket. She followed Helen into the corridor, then pulled the door shut and made sure it was locked.

The corridor was filled with music, voices and laughter. On their way to the restroom, they passed several open doors. Girls in the rooms were sprawled on beds, sitting at desks, some studying, while others carried on discussions or watched small televisions. A few were eating snacks and drinking sodas. Abilene nodded and smiled at those who noticed her going by. Though she recognized all of them, she wasn’t sure about some of the names.

The restroom was just this side of double doors that separated the east wing of Hadley Hall from the main stairs and west wing.

Abilene entered first. She saw no one. But sounds of rushing water came from the shower room.

‘Maybe we should try later,’ Helen whispered.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Come on.’

Helen grimaced, but followed her past the toilet stalls to the dressing area. Steam was drifting in from the shower room. Voices, too – cheerful, amplified by the tile walls. A couple of robes and towels had been left on the bench.

Abilene slipped out of her sandals, emptied her hands onto the bench, and took off her robe. She rolled it up, set it next to her towel, then picked up her washcloth, soap and shampoo. She looked at Helen just as the girl’s large breasts, briefly caught by the hem of the nightgown, came free and dropped, bouncing and swinging. Helen finished dragging the nightgown off her head, gave Abilene a somewhat frantic glance, and deposited the nightgown on the bench.

‘Here goes nothing,’ she muttered, and gestured for Abilene to go first.

Abilene stepped over the low, tile barrier, and entered the shower room. The steamy air wrapped her.

She raised a hand and said ‘Hello’ to the two girls who stood under nozzles near the far end. She recognized both of them. ‘Cora, right?’ she asked the one near the corner.

‘Tucson?’

‘Abilene. This is my roomy, Helen.’

‘Hi,’ Helen said from behind her.

‘I’m Vivian,’ said the other girl. Abilene had never actually met her, but she’d seen her around and knew her name. She supposed that everyone knew her name. Vivian Drake was easily the most beautiful girl in the freshman class: tall and slender with dark auburn hair, emerald eyes, a flawless complexion and a stunning face.

Abilene had stayed clear of her, certain that she must be a conceited bitch.

Now, she said, ‘Nice to meet you,’ went to the shower right beside Vivian and turned on the water. She stepped out of the way, testing the spray with her hand. When it felt hot, she moved underneath it.

Helen chose the shower on the other side.

‘Abilene’s a cool name,’ Vivian said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Is that where you were conceived?’ Cora asked.

‘No, I was named for the song.’

Vivian began to hum it as she soaped her legs.

Abilene began to like her.

‘It was my parents’ favorite song,’ she said. ‘It was their song, you know? Also, my dad’s a western writer.’

‘No kidding?’ Cora said. ‘No wonder you’re such a hot-shot in Dalton’s class.’

‘I’m sure having trouble with Shakespeare.’

‘The guy should’ve tried writing in English.’

‘I’ve got the Cliff Notes for Othello,’ Vivian said. ‘If you want to stop by the room sometime, you can borrow it.’

‘Thanks.’

She’s actually nice, Abilene thought, and felt a little guilty about prejudging her.

Just because she’s gorgeous doesn’t mean she’s a shit.

But her beauty was rather disturbing, and all the more obvious here in the shower room.

Standing next to her, Abilene felt quite plain. She knew she was fairly attractive herself: slender, blonde, with quick blue eyes and an okay face except for a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that she didn’t appreciate but boys seemed to find cute.

That’s me, she thought. Cute. Ordinary.

Whereas Vivian was an incredible knockout.

Even Cora, hardly a slouch in the looks department, suffered by comparison to the girl showering next to her. She was Vivian’s height, but the similarity stopped at that. Her face was wholesome, not striking. Her blonde hair was short and curly, not a long flow of rich, silken tresses. She had broad shoulders, full breasts, wide hips. Though she appeared to be much heavier than her roommate, there was no suggestion of fat. She looked athletic, not regal.

Abilene turned to Helen. The girl’s head hung as she slid a bar of soap over one breast.

She wasn’t a striking, regal knockout. She wasn’t wholesome and athletic. She wasn’t even plain but cute. She was homely, fat and dumpy.

Abilene knew she must be feeling like hell.

‘Have you got any of your father’s books?’ Vivian asked.

‘Not with me.’

‘Does the student bookstore carry them?’

‘No, but the Save-More Drugstore has a bunch.’ She felt as if she were ignoring Helen. But maybe the girl preferred it that way.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Alex Randolph.’

‘Good. I’ll pick up something next time I’m in there.’ She squirted shampoo into her palm and started rubbing it into her hair. ‘So. Helen. What do you think of McMasters?’

‘He’s okay,’ Helen murmured, soaping herself and keeping her head down.

‘I hear he was a drill instructor in the Marines.’

‘He’s a bastard,’ Cora said.

‘We’re all in his eight o’clock,’ Vivian told Abilene. She was scrubbing her sudsy hair, froth rolling down the sides of her face. ‘How’d you luck out?’

‘I’ll be taking his course next semester.’

‘He’s a real bastard,’ Cora repeated.

Vivian turned her head. ‘He might leave you alone if you’d get there on time.’

‘Fat chance.’

Vivian laughed. ‘He’s decent enough to me and Helen.’

‘That’s because Helen’s got brains and you’ve got him flustered.’ Cora leaned forward and looked at Abilene. ‘You should see it. The guy blushes every time he lays his eyes on Viv.’

‘He hankers after me,’ Vivian said.

Helen burst out laughing, raised her head and turned toward the others. Her mouth was stretched into a wide smile. The laughter shook her shoulders, made her breasts bob and shake.

‘Well, he does!’ Vivian insisted.

‘Hankers!’ Helen squealed.

‘Don’t split a gut,’ Cora advised.

‘I’m … sorry. Oh Jesus! He hankers after her!’

And Finley came into the shower room.

At that time, Abilene didn’t know her name. If she had known her name, she wouldn’t have recognized her anyway; a gorilla mask covered her entire head.

Finley wore a tank top, shorts, and tennis shoes.

At her face, viewfinder to the gorilla’s eyehole, rested a portable video camera.

She came bounding into the mist and pranced sideways, sweeping the camera across Helen and Abilene and Vivian and Cora as she rushed by.

At first, Abilene was too surprised and perplexed to realize what was happening. By the time she figured out that the strange apparition was taping them, it was too late to cover herself.

Vivian blurted, ‘What the hell?’ and whirled toward the wall.

Cora lunged at Finley, reaching out. But Finley, in her tennies, had better traction and sprang clear. Cora skidded. Her feet flew up and she landed on her rump.

Finley backstepped, getting the fall on tape.

‘Thanks, hon,’ she said in a cheery, muffled voice.

She scampered sideways. Vivian presented her with nothing but her back, hands trying to hide her rear.

Abilene rushed forward. Bent at the waist, arms and legs spread wide like a basketball guard, she blocked Finley’s retreat.

The girl slipped to a halt. The big lens of the camera shifted from side to side – from breast to breast – and down.

‘You bitch!’

‘Time to go!’ She feinted to the left. Abilene lurched that way to grab her. She saw her mistake as Finley ducked to the right, but the slick floor didn’t allow a quick change of direction.

Sliding and turning, she watched the girl run for the exit and straight into Helen’s fist.

Helen, waiting in the middle of the entryway, threw a haymaker that knocked the gorilla head sideways. The camera flew, striking Abilene’s right thigh as Finley’s back slammed the floor. The girl skidded toward her.

Abilene rubbed her leg. She bent down and picked up the camera.

Then they all gathered around Finley. Helen planted a foot on her belly. Cora pulled off the gorilla head.

The girl grimaced up at them. ‘Greetings,’ she said. ‘Finley’s the name. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies.’

CHAPTER THREE

The Wagoneer stopped in front of Abilene and Finley. The others climbed out.

Helen’s head tilted back and rolled as she surveyed the lodge. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open. She might have been standing for the first time at the feet of the Statue of Liberty, gazing up at the monument with awe and delight.

‘Why don’t we leave everything in the car,’ Cora suggested, ‘until we’ve looked the place over?’

Vivian, nose wrinkled, said, ‘Why don’t we not look the place over and drive back to Burlington instead?’

‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ Abilene asked.

‘It lost out to my sense of self-preservation.’

‘No risk, no thrill,’ Cora said.

Helen, still gaping at the lodge, said, ‘Isn’t this place just fabulously eerie?’

‘I just hope it’s fabulously unoccupied,’ Abilene said. ‘God only knows who might’ve decided to take up residence in a place like this.’

Helen grinned. ‘Yeah.’ She sounded tickled by the possibility of encountering a hermit or axe-murderer inside the ruin. ‘Let’s go in and check it out.’

She hurried up the porch stairs, Cora at her side, Vivian following. Before stepping through the doorway, Vivian looked over her shoulder. ‘Coming?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ Finley said and shouldered her camera. ‘Go on ahead,’ she told Abilene.

Abilene climbed the stairs and strode across the porch. The boards wobbled and squeaked. Even though they’d been strong enough to support Helen, she feared breaking through and was glad to reach the safety of the foyer’s marble floor.

The others hadn’t ventured off the marble. They stood at its far edge as if the foyer were an island and they weren’t ready to get their feet wet. Nobody spoke. Only their heads moved as they looked around. Abilene supposed they were listening, wondering whether the lodge was truly deserted. She halted beside Vivian.

‘Bitchin’ joint!’ Finley yelled.

Abilene flinched. Vivian gasped. Helen twisted around, scowling, pressing a finger to her heavy lips and letting out a long ‘Shhhhhhhh.’

A grin spread across Finley’s face. Obviously, she had meant to startle them and was pleased by her success. ‘Okay,’ she mouthed, not making a sound. She came forward ever so slowly on tiptoes, lifting her knees high, setting her feet down gingerly, her lips pursed – a parody of silent sneaking.

She stopped next to Abilene. She turned slowly, panning the room with her camera. Its automatic focus made quiet humming sounds as it adjusted to changing distances. Then she lowered the camera to her side and stood motionless.

All five women looked around and listened.

Other than the quick pounding of her own heartbeat, Abilene heard nothing but sounds from outside: birds chirping and squawking, the sigh of leaves stirred by breezes.

Enough daylight came in for her to see the staircase to her left, an open room beyond it, and the lobby and lounge area to her right. Except for the L-shaped registration desk and the numbered cubby-holes behind it, the huge room was bare.

She supposed that its dark, panelled walls had once been decorated with the heads of deer, with mounted fish and paintings of rustic scenes. There had probably been stuffed raccoons, and such, perched atop the broad wooden rafters. And furniture scattered about. Easy chairs, lamp tables. Maybe even sofas and a rug in front of the broad, stone fireplace. The fireplace, she noticed, was still equipped with andirons, a screen, and a set of fire irons.

Surprising that scavengers hadn’t made off with them, sold them as antiques or taken them home.

She wondered what else might’ve been left behind.

Plenty of time to find out, she thought.

If they wound up spending four whole days here, as planned, they’d get to know this place from top to bottom.

‘It’s pretty decent,’ Cora said, not only breaking the silence but leaving the foyer and walking over the hardwood floor toward the registration desk. ‘It’s not nearly the shambles I expected. Figured there’d be crap all over the place, from the looks of the outside.’

‘Could’ve been a lot worse,’ Vivian admitted. ‘It’s still pretty creepy, though.’

‘It’s supposed to be,’ Helen informed her.

‘I know, I know.’

Cora leaned across the registration desk, stretching over its counter, one leg rising high behind her as she strained to see what was on the other side. She pushed herself away and shook her head.

‘Nothing.’

‘The more nothing, the better,’ Vivian said.

As Cora walked alongside the desk, she glanced down at the front of her white T-shirt and brushed it once, just once, with her open hand. Turning toward the others, she frowned. She plucked at her shirt, pulling it away from her body. She gazed at the taut, slanted cloth.

It didn’t look particularly dirty to Abilene – just a trifle dusty – so what could be bothering … ‘Uh-oh,’ she muttered.

‘Hey, Viv,’ Cora said. ‘Guess what? You don’t have to worry about soiling your clothes around this place. Not much, anyway.’ She brushed her shirt a couple more times, and the traces of dust vanished. ‘That counter should’ve been filthy.’

‘The maid service must’ve been by,’ Finley said.

‘Somebody’s been by,’ Abilene said. ‘From my vast experience with house cleaning, I’d say Cora mopped up less than a week’s worth of dust.’

‘Should’ve been twelve years’ worth,’ Helen pointed out. A corner of her lip curled up.

‘If it’d been that dirty, I would’ve stayed off.’

Abilene turned around, studying the floor. Near the door and windows were some leaves. But not many. And she saw no broken glass, at all, beneath the windows. ‘The floor’s clean, too,’ she said.

Vivian nodded. ‘Obviously, this place isn’t as abandoned as it looks.’

‘The Three Bears must be out for an afternoon stroll,’ Finley said.

Spread out and walking abreast, the five women made their way through the room, skirting the occasional support beams. As she neared the fireplace, Abilene saw that it was clean inside. The stones were black with soot, but there were no ashes or chunks of burnt wood.

Several yards past the end of the registration desk, the room branched out to the left.

‘Must be the dining area,’ Cora said, stepping around the corner.

‘This is where it happened,’ Helen said.

‘Where what happened?’ Vivian asked.

Helen grinned and wiggled her eyebrows up and down. ‘Later. After dark. I’ll tell you all a bedtime story.’

‘We might not be here after dark,’ Vivian said.

‘As long as nobody’s around,’ Cora said, ‘we might as well stay.’

‘Somebody has been here,’ Abilene reminded her.

‘That doesn’t necessarily mean anyone’ll show up while we’re around. And whoever it is might be perfectly harmless.’

‘Well, we’re trespassing.’

‘Just doing some innocent exploration. And the door was open, after all. It’s not as if we broke in.’

‘Besides,’ Helen said, ‘it wouldn’t be fair to quit. This is my choice, and I’ve always gone along with you guys – whether I wanted to or not. I didn’t complain all the time, either,’ she added, eyeing Vivian.

‘I’m still here,’ Vivian pointed out. ‘I’m not a quitter.’

‘Just a complainer,’ Cora said.

‘We do have to be realistic,’ Abilene said. ‘I mean, it’s great to have our little adventures, but on the other hand we don’t want to get our asses killed. Things do happen, you know. And this place looks a little hinky to me. I’m not saying we should call it quits, but we’ve gotta be damned careful. Someone was here within the past few days. Someone might be here right now.’

‘Oh, I hope so,’ Helen said, leering.

This from the gal, Abilene thought, who is petrified by the idea of taking a shower alone.

Helen hadn’t changed much, in that regard, since her encounter with the phantom hand in her freshman year at Belmore.

After the night of Finley’s escapade, Helen had taken showers frequently. Not always with Abilene, but always with someone. Often, she’d returned dry, having turned back after discovering the shower room to be deserted. Better to wait than to risk the lights going off, an extra hand touching her in the dark.

Later, during the three years when they all share a rented house on Summer Street, she hadn’t insisted on having a companion in the tub with her. She hadn’t even asked. It would’ve been tight quarters, for one thing. She’d admitted it. And she’d always locked herself in the bathroom.

Even last night at the Wayfarer’s Haven in Burlington, Helen had insisted that either Abilene or Finley remain in the room while she bathed. Abilene had stayed behind. Finley had gone ahead without her to have drinks and snacks in the room shared by Cora and Vivian.

So she was a young woman pursued by terror, and yet here she was, putting on a show of bravado about the more immediate threat of running into a stranger in a desolate lodge in the middle of nowhere.

Well, Abilene thought, there are five of us. She damn sure wouldn’t be acting this way if she were alone.

But Abilene wondered if any of this was real to Helen. The phantom hand in the shower room had been very real. Whenever Helen was in the midst of an adventure, however, she behaved as if she considered the dangers imaginary. As if she were a character in a movie or something, and nothing bad could actually happen to her.

As Abilene entered the kitchen behind Cora and Helen, she realized that Helen wasn’t the only one with a carefree attitude about the adventures.

Finley, too, seemed cheerfully reckless.

In Finley’s case, however, it was more than empty bravado. The girl was audacious, intrepid to the bone.