Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Cat
S nowboarding has been more difficult than I first imagined. I thought it was all about balance, but it takes a ridiculous amount of core strength, which I don’t have. My thighs, abs, and back will be sore for the foreseeable future, and God bless my ass. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve landed on it.
And these were just the practice runs.
Watching Maverick in his element has been a soothing balm, though. In his yellow winter coat, he moves like a brightly colored panther on that board, switching his direction with a subtle swivel of his hips. He hasn’t fallen a single time.
Neither has Eve. She’s also been helpful, encouraging me to keep trying each time I fall. I can’t imagine her killing someone, yet that’s exactly what she plans to do when she takes her turn down the big mountain.
“Will the weapons be down at the bottom too?” I ask as we grab our gear and head toward the final slope.
Maverick nods. He’s walking a few steps ahead of us, clearing a path with snowshoes to make it easier for the rest of us.
“There’s an equipment shed at the top and bottom,” he says. “That’s where we store the gear and weapons. There’s also a cabin somewhere nearby in case we ever get stranded out here.”
“Won’t be of any use if we don’t know where it is,” Ice Pick says behind us. He’s struggling to keep up, so we all slow our pace.
“That’s a good point,” Maverick says. “I probably should have gotten the coordinates from Ezra, but I don’t think it will be an issue today. The weather’s holding, and the snow stopped.”
“I think I’ll need a long nap when we get back to the mansion,” Eve says. “If I don’t show up for lunch, don’t wake me.”
“Same,” I say. “Though I can’t skip lunch. I already missed last night’s dinner.”
Huffing and puffing, we reach the top of the slope. The path cuts a wide gash through the forest, and visions of Sonny Bono and Michael Kennedy play like a gory newsreel in my head. Better than a tree literally going through my head, I guess, though that’s a real possibility.
Snowmobile engines buzz somewhere in the distance. I can only assume it’s the staff bringing the Cattle from the mansion basement. By the time one of us reaches the bottom, they’ll have the kill set up. Then it’s up to us to dispatch them.
“I’ll go first,” Ice Pick says. He sits in the snow, and Maverick helps him slot his feet into the bindings.
I don’t move. I keep staring toward the bottom of the mountain as anxiety takes hold of my heart and gives it a squeeze.
Eve steps in front of me and looks into my face. “Hey, you okay? You look a bit pale.”
She pulls off her glove, and her warm fingers brush over the little strip of forehead peeking above my goggles. Her fingers come away damp.
“Honey, you’ll catch a chill if you keep sweating like this. If you’re scared, we can go down together.”
I’m grateful she’s keeping her voice to a whisper. I’d be mortified if Maverick saw me freaking out. He’s almost finished strapping Ice Pick into the boots on the board, so I’m running out of time to compose myself.
“I am a little nervous,” I admit, “but it’s not only about snowboarding. I’ve...I’ve never killed anyone before.”
Before she can ask anything else, Ice Pick gets to his feet and shuffles the board to the start of the slope. A look passes between Eve and me, and we communicate so much in our silence.
I don’t want to talk about this in front of anyone else , my eyes say, and she replies with an affirmative nod.
Ice Pick lowers his goggles and aims the nose of the board downhill. With all the confidence of an X Games athlete, he pushes off and starts to move forward. And with all the grace of a landslide, down he goes, right onto his ass.
Maverick sighs and shakes his head. “I should probably go with him.”
A few hours ago, this might have upset me, but now I see it as an opportunity.
“I have a better idea,” I say. “Why don’t you help him get down the mountain, and then Eve can go down alone so that she can enjoy herself? I’ll head back to the lift via the path we took from the practice area. You all can head back to the mansion in the sleigh. Have the workers ride with you, and I’ll take the snowmobile back. Kindra taught me how to drive one on the day we arrived.”
Maverick looks between me and Ice Pick, who is now struggling to get to his feet again. “Are you sure? This was going to be your first kill, and I’d hate for another one to get fucked up.”
“She said what she said, Maverick,” Eve says. “No need to babysit a full-grown woman.”
“But what if Kindra?—”
“If Kindra says anything to you,” I say, “just tell her I demanded it be this way. She knows how I am. When I’m set on something, there isn’t much you can do to stop me. Plus, I feel like I need a little more practice before I go tumbling through a mess of trees and rocks.”
He blows out a breath and lowers his goggles. “Okay, but if my ass gets chewed for this...”
With a shake of his head, he calls for Ice Pick to stop rolling around in the snow so that he can get on his board and help him. Moments later, Maverick starts toward him, leaving Eve alone with me.
“Thanks for that,” I tell her when the men disappear around a bend in the slope.
She waves me off. “Don’t mention it. But are you sure you’re okay to get back to the path on your own? If you want, I can wait for you at the bottom. Once you get there, you can decide if you want to get your first kill. If not, I’ll help you come up with a reason why you didn’t.”
I flop onto my ass—intentionally, this time. “I appreciate the gesture, but I think I just want to use the fear of smashing into a tree as an excuse. Do you mind keeping this just between us?”
She smiles down at me and shakes her head. “Not a bit. But you know...you may not be a killer, and that’s okay. Not everyone is cut out for this hobby.”
Eve wields these words as if they’re flowers, not realizing the rose stems still bear thorns that pierce my heart. Knowing her intentions come from a place of kindness doesn’t soften the blow.
Because I’ve heard these words before.
It’s okay if you aren’t good at sports, Cat.
It’s okay if you aren’t good at dancing, Cat.
It’s okay if you never get a callback from an audition, Cat.
But it’s not okay. None of it has ever been okay. When will I finally discover something I’m good at? When will I finally belong?
“No,” I say. “I want to do this, but I want it to be on my terms. I think it’ll be easier if I can make my first kill on my own. Could you make sure everyone is gone by the time I get down the mountain?”
“Sure thing, honey.” She kicks a clump of snow with the toe of her boot. “So...are you sure you’re only into men?”
“Unfortunately, I am as straight as a board, but if I wasn’t, I’d eat a hole straight through you.”
“Fuck, don’t tease me like that,” she says with a moan.
“I’m serious. You’re the full package. I was jealous of you at first because I thought you had eyes for Maverick, and I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”
“I don’t think any woman stands a chance with him.”
“Why do you say that?”
Eve places her hands at the small of her back and stares down the mountain. “When I sat with him at dinner, he mostly talked about work. We’re in the same field, so there was plenty to talk about, but he never steered the topics toward anything else. He gives the vibe that he’s emotionally unavailable.”
“Kindra’s mentioned something similar,” I say. “So has Ezra, come to think of it. I guess it would be silly of me to try to kiss him at midnight, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say silly .” Eve sits beside me and begins strapping her feet to the snowboard. “He’s a very attractive man, as far as men go. He gives off golden-retriever energy, too, and bitches love that.”
I sigh. “Yeah, bitches do.”
She stops fastening the ankle straps and looks at me. “You’re a golden retriever too, though.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you .” Her fingers set back to work again, and then she stands. “You’re like a little ball of happiness, spreading joy wherever you go. You don’t even have to try.”
“Thanks, Eve.”
“Don’t mention it.” She gathers her braids, tucks them into her hood, then lowers her goggles. “I’ll see you at the party tonight, yeah?”
“You can count on it. If I chicken out with Maverick, you can be my kiss at midnight.”
“Don’t do that unless you’re prepared to question your sexuality.”
And with that, she disappears down the mountain, leaving me alone with about a mile to walk. At least the sun is up now.
I pull my mask into place and lower the goggles over my eyes. The latter serves a dual purpose, protecting my eyes from the freezing winds and dimming the glare on the snow as well.
Once I’m in the woods again, the animals come to life. Dark squirrels with bushy tails leap across the branches above me. A hare in its white winter coat darts across the path in front of me, there one second and gone the next. If it weren’t for the little footprints he left behind, I’d think I imagined him.
After wandering for a half hour and fearing I’ve lost my way, the familiar practice area comes into view. There’s the log I smacked my leg on. And the pile of snow I fell on that was actually a snow-covered rock.
The whir of the lift buzzes nearby, and I head in that direction after depositing the snowboard and other gear in the equipment shed. I board the lift, just like Maverick taught me, and I’m proud when I don’t slip and fall to my death on the first try.
A blanket of white expands below me. As I pass near a stretch of trees, a caribou runs to the shadows for safety, its clunky feet pushing it silently along. It would be a magical moment if I wasn’t heading straight for doom.
“You can do this, Cat,” I whisper to myself. “Just get there and make the kill.”
I hope the Cattle’s mouth has been glued shut. If they plead for their life, I don’t know that I’ll have the strength to go through with it, regardless of what they’ve done. Maybe asking to make a kill without an audience was a bad idea. Peer pressure has its benefits. I wouldn’t have tried anal without it, and I love anal.
Unable to focus on the natural beauty in every direction, I turn inward and try to hype myself up. I just need to cut through the thick moral fiber that tethers me so firmly to righteousness.
Kindra says killing makes the world a little brighter because she’s ridding it of darkness. When she’s the one wielding the knife and doing the stabbing, I can see the rightness of her actions. Why can’t I feel that same sense of purpose when the knife is in my hands?
Maybe a knife is the wrong weapon ?
Most killers have a preferred methodology. Not only do they prefer a certain victim, but they also prefer a certain way of getting the job done. There’s something to that, I think. I have my victim pool, so maybe I’m just missing the right weapon.
Exhilaration runs through me. I’ve just had an epiphany, and my determination to make this kill is renewed. Maverick said there’s a weapon shed at the bottom, which means I’ll have pick of the litter. With no audience to make me nervous, I can take as long as I need to find which weapon feels right for me.
As the lift nears the station, red splotches on the snow come into view. Three bodies lie in a pile nearby, though I’m still too far away to discern how they were killed. A fourth figure kneels in the snow, and as the chair moves closer, I can see that the figure is shivering. It’s a man in a red snowsuit. He lacks any type of face covering, and his hands are tied behind his back. Since he isn’t making any noise, I can only assume his mouth is glued shut.
I step off the lift like I know what I’m doing, then hurry to the narrow path tucked behind the small building. This is the only path in the area, so I can only assume the weapons are this way. After a few minutes of walking, I find what I’m looking for.
The tin shed stands right off the path. It’s much smaller than the shed where we keep our gear at the top of the mountain, so I’m worried I won’t have much to choose from. I won’t know until I take a look, though, so I hurry to the door, whip it open, and step inside.
Sunlight struggles to filter through the doorway, so I reach out and feel for the lights. A single bulb dangles above my head. I pull the cord attached to it, and the bulb flickers to life.
This space looks more like a tool shed than a weapon cache. A bloody hammer lies on a wooden table, so I guess someone took out a lot of anger with their kill. Wrenches, saws, and extension cords hang on the far wall.
I take a few timid steps toward the extension cord and pull it from the hooks holding it in place. The weight feels good in my hands, but I doubt I have the strength to strangle someone. Kindra says it takes a lot longer to accomplish than what they show in the movies. I could always give it a try. If it doesn’t work, I can move on to something else.
Then again, if it takes too long, I might change my mind. I need something more final.
A case for a chainsaw catches my eye. That would certainly be quick, but then I remember what happened at the summer retreat. I need to make sure it actually works before I haul it all the way back to the kill site.
I step over a jackhammer and nearly break my neck as the extension cord tangles around my feet. Thank goodness for all this padding . That’s all I can think as I go down. I may not look cute, but at least I didn’t break anything. Instead of getting to my feet, I shuffle on hands and knees to the chainsaw case and open it.
It’s empty.
I guess someone else had the same idea, but they could have put it back where it belongs when they finished with it. Now what am I supposed to do?
Gripping the nearby wooden table for support, I try to pull myself to my feet. I’m no longer grateful for all this padding as I struggle to stand. And that’s when I notice the silence.
Instead of the distant whir of the ski lift, I hear only my heartbeat and each squeaky breath that whistles out of my nose. What a terrible time to get a nose whistle. If the Cattle somehow managed to get to his feet, he only needs to listen for each noisy breath I take.
But if I’m to be pitted against a killer again, I won’t let Bennett steal my thunder this time. I’ll take out this piece of shit all by myself.
My gaze flies around the room, landing on everything and coming up with an immediate reason why nothing will work. Most of these items require close combat. I need distance.
As I pull myself upright with a final heave, my panic only increases because the silence has been eaten up by the angry growl of a revving chainsaw. To make matters worse, the piece of shit knows which way I went. It won’t be difficult to follow my footsteps straight to me.
Shit, shit, shit. I have to get out of here.
I reach to the right and grab the first thing I see: a long flathead screwdriver. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. With a steeling breath, I head for the door.
The sun is about as bright as it’s going to get today, which means it’s already lunchtime. Staying to the right of the path, I cut through the woods and head toward the sound. If nothing else, I can hop on the snowmobile and zoom to safety before the sicko notices me.
No cute woodland creatures scatter before me this time. It’s as if they’re just as terrified as I am. They know that evil walks the woods right now, and I’m heading straight toward it.
Shadows give way to light, and the silent lift appears further ahead. The chairs hang from the cable, and not even the wind causes them to wiggle. It looks like a picture.
The chainsaw noise cuts off abruptly, and I creep forward until I can see the bodies and the blood on the snow. Just as I feared, my Cattle no longer kneels where I left him. A dent in the snow provides the only proof that he was there to begin with.
A flash of red catches my eye, and I turn my head. I blink, unable to understand what I’m seeing. My quarry shuffles toward me, then falls face first onto the cold white ground. His hands are still tied behind his back, so how did he turn on the chainsaw?
He raises his face from the icy earth and opens his mouth to scream, but the skin on his lips only stretches to impossible lengths without releasing any sound. As I hoped, his lips are glued shut. But that also means he can’t explain anything to me.
I tighten my grip on the screwdriver and step from the cover of bushes and tree trunks. He doesn’t have a weapon, so I have nothing to fear now.
“Looks like you’re screwed , buddy,” I say as I step toward him. I twist the screwdriver in my hand, glad no one was around to hear that one. It was worse than any of the others I’ve tried.
The man wiggles until he’s on his back, and this is somehow worse. I can see his eyes, and they’re currently pleading for me to help him.
I take a step back and close my eyes. How does Kindra do this? How can she kill someone who so badly wants to live?
Then I see red, and I don’t mean figuratively. In my mind, I picture his jumpsuit. It tells me how Kindra does this. She does this because this man has hurt people, and now it’s his turn to hurt.
With my eyes still closed, I take a deep breath, step forward, and raise the screwdriver. That’s when the chainsaw whirs to life once more, and it’s right behind me.