Blood Games

by Richard Laymon

  Not a pretty idea, she thought.

  She wondered if he would be all right down there.

  He’ll be fine, she told herself. Hank won’t do anything to him. The creep’s after us, not his brother.

  Unless he figures out, somehow, that Jim has thrown in with us.

  He’s got no way of knowing.

  Besides, Finley’ll shoot him the moment he shows up.

  Finley, some time ago, had stopped leaning against the banister and sat down. She was silent at Abilene’s left, the shotgun across her thighs. The tan of her safari shirt and shorts matched her skin so well in the darkness that Abilene couldn’t tell where her clothes left off and her skin began. As Abilene was looking at her, Finley turned her head. In the blur of her face were muddy white eyes. A row of teeth, as dim as her eyes, showed for a moment when she smiled.

  I wish we could at least talk, Abilene thought.

  She reached over and gave Finley’s knee a brief squeeze.

  ‘Don’t get fresh,’ Finley whispered.

  That brought a smile to Abilene, but either Cora or Vivian went ‘Shhhhhh.’

  Abilene turned her head toward them.

  Cora’s right leg was still extended, its bandaged foot almost touching Abilene’s thigh. Her left leg was bent, its knee raised. She had let go of the railing and eased herself backward so her head was on Vivian’s lap.

  Both of Cora’s legs seemed to end high up her thighs. Like Jim, she looked as if the tops of her legs and her pelvic region had been lopped out. But her shorts were skimpier than his, so less appeared to be missing.

  The shorts, Abilene remembered, were red. For a few moments, she couldn’t recall the color of the tank top. Yellow or… no, pink. Pale, faded pink. The fresh blood on Cora’s back had been bright red on pink. Now, the shirt was a shade of gray somewhat lighter than the skin of Cora’s chest beyond the low scooped neck and around the shoulder straps.

  Cora’s face was a dark oval smudge against the white of Vivian’s shorts. Of course, the shorts didn’t look any whiter than had Finley’s eyes and teeth. They were dingy gray, the same as her knit pullover. But that gray seemed to be brighter than anything else in sight.

  Vivian’s clothes almost glowed in the dark.

  Her legs were crossed and she was leaning backward, braced up with dim arms.

  Her shirt looked very much like a ghostly apparition floating at an angle above the floor, nobody in it at all.

  The Tipton Shirt without the Tipton Girl.

  This isn’t a Tipton, she reminded herself. It’s a Ralph Lauren or something.

  And awfully damn visible.

  If I can see it this well, Abilene thought, anyone can.

  Including Hank.

  That outfit could blow us all out of the water.

  Why the hell didn’t she change her clothes!

  Too late for that. Way too late for that. Shit!

  Oughta make her take ’em off.

  Calm down, she told herself. It’s not like Viv did it on purpose. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that she would stand out like this.

  Hadn’t occurred to the rest of us, either.

  Any of us might’ve ended up dressed in white. The whole idea of trying to blend in with the darkness simply hadn’t come up.

  She’d blend in a lot better if she did take off those clothes.

  They’re a hell of a lot brighter than her skin.

  Abilene considered suggesting it.

  Oh yeah, she thought. Right. Ask her to strip down. Sure thing. We’re up here waiting for a Goddamn homicidal sex pervert to show up and I calmly ask Viv to get naked. Brilliant. Forget it.

  Too bad Finley isn’t the one in white. She’d be delighted to shuck off every stitch.

  Abilene looked down at herself. Her own plaid blouse was dark, her skirt as black as the night. But the short skirt was rucked up high because of how she sat. She saw that she, too, was wearing white.

  I’m not taking off my panties.

  Besides, nobody down below could possibly be in a position to see the small bit of pale fabric.

  For that matter, she realized, Vivian was far enough from the railing that no one on the ground floor should be able to see her white clothes, either.

  Only if Hank were actually up here…

  Abilene peered into the darkness beyond Vivian. She saw nothing.

  He could be right there, right now.

  We would’ve heard him, she told herself. You can’t take a step in this old place without a floorboard creaking.

  But maybe he can.

  We should’ve prepared better, she thought. Why didn’t we bring the trash box with us? If we’d set up empty cans and bottles across the balcony floor, they’d be kicked over by anyone sneaking toward us.

  Or we could’ve strung a rope across it to trip him.

  We don’t have enough rope for that, she realized. But we could’ve used belts or something. Anything to make him trip or at least make noise.

  Too late for that kind of thing, now.

  Unless a couple of us want to hurry back to the car.

  And that’s exactly when Hank would show up.

  If he’s not already here.

  Standing just on the other side of Vivian. Wearing something dark. A knife in his hand.

  I’d be able to see his eyes, she thought. Without lids, they must look huge. There’d be big white orbs…

  No, they’re red. Jim had said they’re red.

  Cora’s shorts were red, and you can’t see them.

  Abilene reached down, fumbled in the fold of denim on her lap, and wrapped her hand around the flashlight. She raised it and aimed it past Vivian.

  Before she could thumb the switch, her left arm was grabbed. She flinched and gasped.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ Finley whispered.

  ‘I’ve got to see.'

  ‘Shhhh,’ came from her other side.

  ‘He might be here,’ Finley warned, ignoring the shush. ‘Keep that light off.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Shhhh.’

  Abilene lowered the flashlight to her lap. She sighed.

  He probably isn’t up here, anyway. Probably. We probably would’ve heard him. And he probably wouldn’t just stand there, watching us. He’d have done something by now. Like plunge his knife into Vivian’s chest and slash Cora’s throat.

  So he’s not here.

  Not yet.

  Probably.

  Abilene finally calmed down.

  As time passed, she saw others shifting their positions. Cora lowered her knee, stretching out her leg. She sat up and hooked an arm around a baluster and peered down. Vivian’s tilted shirt sank down until its back met the floor. Her knees rose like a couple of dim peaks. Finley stood up for a while, then squatted like a baseball umpire.

  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 th
at.

  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.

  Abilene gazed at the spread-eagled body, stunned. She thought vaguely that she ought to look away from it, but she couldn’t.

  Blood was spraying out of the chest hole. It came raining down, and if not for the ringing in her ears, she knew she would’ve been able to hear its soft patter on Batty’s skin.

  One breast rested neatly on his ribcage, but the other draped an armpit. She glimpsed his rigid penis, and that was enough to make her look away.

  Finley still had the weapon up as if she were contemplating a second shot.

  Abilene shone the light in her face. ‘That’s Batty.'

  Finley nodded, squinting.

  ‘What’d you shoot for?’

  ‘God, Fin,’ Cora said.

  ‘I thought it was Hank, okay?’

  ‘Are you blind?’

  ‘Gimme a break. That was supposed to be Hank down there, and I fired. Anyway, what the fuck was Batty doing here? Looking for us, that’s…’

  A belchy coughing sound stopped her words. She leaned forward to see past Abilene. They both looked. Vivian was bent over the rail, heaving. Abilene saw the vomit gushing from her mouth, heard it splatting the floor far below. She gagged, herself, and looked away. But she could still hear it. Then all she heard from Vivian were gaspy sobs and sniffles.

  ‘Ya okay?’ It was Jim.

  ‘Yeah.’ She sniffed. ‘Guess so.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us it was Batty?’ Cora called down.

  ‘Didn’t know. It was awful mighty dark, just couldn’t see who it was. Thought it was Hank, though. Till he talked.’

  Abilene pointed her light down. Batty was still sprawled at Jim’s feet, but blood no longer flew from the wound. Jim was looking up, frowning. His belly was smeared with blood where Batty’s head had bumped him.

  ‘It’s just as well ya got him,’ Jim said. ‘He weren’t up to no good.’

  ‘He didn’t even have a weapon,’ Abilene muttered.

  ‘Batty don’t need ’em. Had his magic bone. I seen how he works. He only just gets naked when he’s fixin’ to work his meanest spells. He meant to kill ya all. That’s how come he had the blood on him. That’s his bat blood, ’n he don’t use it less he’s aimin’ to do a murder hex.’

  ‘See?’ Finley said. ‘I saved us from a whammy.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Cora said. ‘And we still have Hank coming after us, and a deaf man could’ve heard that gunshot a mile away. If he’s already here, he knows right where to find us.’

  Abilene and Vivian both started probing the darkness with their flashlights. They checked the length of the balcony, the staircase, the foyer. The support posts cast shifting shadows against the wall and floor, and the windows that weren’t broken gleamed bright reflections as the lights swept back and forth.

  ‘Shine it over here,’ Finley said.

  Abilene turned the flashlight toward her and watched Finley break open the shotgun, pluck out the spent shell, replace it with one from her pocket, and snap the breech shut.

  ‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘Now, kill the lights.’

  Two switches snicked. Darkness clamped down.

  ‘What’re we gonna do now?’ Abilene whispered.

  ‘Wait for Hank,’ Cora answered, her voice low.

  ‘Get him the way I got Batty,’ Finley said.

  ‘But he knows we’re here,’ Vivian protested.

  ‘Maybe,’ Cora said. ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘Ya oughta move Batty outa the way,’ came Jim’s voice from below. ‘Hank ain’t gonna come walkin’ right up to me, long as the body’s here.’

  ‘He won’t be able to see it,’ Cora said.

  ‘He’ll see it. He can see like a cat.’

  ‘Jim’s got a point,’ Finley said. ‘If Hank does spot the body, he’ll know something’s up. All we’ve gotta do is drag it off. Maybe hide it
behind the registration desk.’

  ‘We’d… have to touch him,’ Vivian whispered.

  ‘Doesn’t bother me. Look, I’ll go on down and take care of it.’

  ‘Not alone,’ Cora said.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Abilene offered. Though she hated the idea. She wanted to stay right here on the balcony, out of reach from below. And she sure didn’t want to help drag Batty’s body anywhere.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Finley said. ‘I’ll do it on my own. Just give me your flashlight so I don’t trip and fall down the stairs or something. You keep me covered from up here. ’ She held out the shotgun. Abilene took it with one hand and passed her the flashlight.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Vivian said.

  ‘Neither do I,’ Cora added.

  ‘Hey, what can happen?’

  ‘Hank could jump you, that’s what,’ Abilene told her.

  ‘If he does, shoot him. Just don’t hit me.’

  ‘There might not be a clear shot,’ Cora warned.

  ‘I’ve always got this.’ Finley lifted the hanging front of her shirt and pulled the knife from her waistband.

  ‘A lot of good that’ll do you,’ Abilene said.

  ‘Shit. I don’t think Hank’s down there, anyway. For all we know, he might not show up for hours.’

  ‘Maybe he won’t even come,’ Vivian whispered.

  ‘He’s gonna come, all right,’ Jim said. ‘Ain’t here yet, though, pretty sure a that.’

  ‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘Go on and do it. But make it quick.’

  ‘And be careful,’ Abilene told her.

  Finley turned on the flashlight and made her way past the others. Vivian lit her back as she jogged along the balcony, then swept her beam down the stairway before Finley got there.

  As Finley started trotting down the stairs, Abilene lifted the shotgun to her shoulder. Her left hand swung the barrels up. She crouched slightly, and braced her elbow on the railing. Head up, she watched Finley bound off the bottom stair and take a few steps and halt.

  Knife in one hand, flashlight in the other, Finley turned all the way around once, apparently to make sure nobody was creeping up on her from the corridor or the open room beyond the stairs. Then she walked slowly through the middle of the lobby, head swiveling, her light joining Vivian’s in skittery sweeps of the area surrounding her.