Chapter 9 Carrie
Carrie
Carrie had never thought of darkness as having variants of shade, but the wood paneling gave the front room’s interior a deep, sticky richness, like molasses.
She turned away from where Ranger Russ had fallen so she didn’t have to look at the glossy puddle that seemed to shine in the dark.
Her breath rasped, and a nervous sweat joined the lingering rainwater plastering her hair to her scalp.
Who knew one person could bleed so much from their head and still survive?
She couldn’t believe Michael had clobbered him like that, though she was grateful he’d defended her, as misguided as it was.
The way the ranger had sized her up at the gas station had been unsettling. Russ had most certainly seen The Photo.
“I told you he was faking!” Freddy said, coming in behind Jen and stopping to stare at the spot Carrie was not looking at.
Dread pierced her gut. She’d only wanted to come back to the Slasher cabin to put her bad memories to rest. Instead, fate was laughing at her by throwing these threats in her way. She’d known returning to Cedar Lake would be challenging, but she hadn’t expected it to test her like this.
The voice at the back of her head that sounded like Mama told her she deserved it for her sins.
She silently told the voice to shut up.
“You gotta shoot ’em in the head, or else they’ll come back,” quipped Jen. “Number one rule of slashers.”
Why, oh why, did Jen have to say that? “Does anyone have a gun?” Carrie said weakly.
Everyone shook their heads. Thank goodness. No one in the Jumpscare Society was into hunting; Carrie didn’t trust any of them to have good aim. Fumbling with a firearm would only end up with one of them getting shot, especially since they were all on edge.
The walls of the cabin felt like they were closing in, and although Russ’s blood was out of her field of vision, the bright coppery smell hit her nostrils above the chemical scent of the air freshener. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to soothe the tickle deep in her sinuses.
Tiffany waved her hands about in a parody of one of her cheer routines. “We need to leave now. Russ could be anywhere.”
Carrie agreed. Why was everyone just standing about? Didn’t anyone understand how much danger they were in?
“Of course Russ ran off,” Patrick said. “Mikey assaulted him. It doesn’t mean he’s lying in wait for us. He’d be more scared of us than we are of him.”
“Why didn’t he just drive away then?” Jen said, gesturing at the SUV parked outside.
“We were all standing out there. He was probably too scared to go for his car. He won’t be thinking straight if he’s concussed.”
Patrick had a good point. And yet—
“Or he’s gonna continue to exact his revenge!” Freddy cried.
“What would Russ Meachum want to avenge?” Jason said exasperatedly.
“Did one of you do something to him in high school?” Carrie asked, her insides turning to water. “Played a prank, or said something mean?”
Everyone turned to Jen. “What? What’re you all looking at me for?” she demanded. “I didn’t even know he existed. Maybe he’s obsessed with Carrie. He saw her at the gas station and followed her here.”
Carrie shrank under Jen’s accusing gaze. Was it her fault Russ had shown up?
Tiffany tossed her wet ponytail and scoffed.
“Some of our classmates were jealous of us,” she said, cutting her eyes to Carrie.
Carrie felt the steely edge of that glare deep between her ribs.
She had to be wary. Jason’s kindness toward her hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Tiffany might be acting mostly civil, but she was still a spiteful cat.
“Some wished they had the guts to get up onstage in front of a cheering audience. Russ’s mom wouldn’t let him join the Jumpscare Society, so maybe he’s making up for lost time. ”
“Exactly. He’s seizing his chance to play the Slasher for real!” Freddy said.
“We’ll lock the doors and windows if it makes you all feel better. Power will be back up before we know it,” Patrick said.
“And the phone? Staying put doesn’t do us much good if we can’t call for help,” Jen said. “I vote we take our chances and leave.”
“But we don’t know where Michael is.” Carrie anxiously glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen, where he’d run out the back door.
Poor Michael. He’d always been sensitive.
Carrie was really worried about him being out in the woods alone.
She’d known him longer than anyone else in the Jumpscare Society.
He’d been the little boy who lived across the hall in Cranfield House, a crumbling old mansion on the wrong side of the tracks that had been carved into apartments.
Michael’s mother, who was Jason’s maternal aunt, had fallen in with a bad crowd as a teenager and dropped out of school to have Michael.
Mama had judged Michael’s folks something awful, but hello—pot, kettle, et cetera.
At least his dad had stuck around, although it was mostly to drink away whatever money Michael’s mom made at her various waitressing jobs.
Carrie and Michael would take the bus together to and from grade school, and on afternoons when Mama was out working, Carrie would let him into their apartment and feed him whatever she could spare without Mama noticing.
His parents weren’t very good at being home before midnight or at keeping the pantry stocked.
Michael had always needed someone to take care of him, and Carrie had been happy when Jason’s parents took him in.
Mama had been glad, too, because she hadn’t liked Carrie spending so much time with a boy.
Even when Carrie assured her, truthfully, that Michael was like a brother.
She knew he would’ve liked to have been more, but Jason—
Michael simply wasn’t Jason.
Tiffany put her hands on her hips. “I’m not waiting around for him.”
Carrie bit her lip and summoned the strength to stand up to Tiffany. The Cedar Lake High queen bee couldn’t cow her anymore, now that they were outside of high school. “He said he’d be right back.”
She realized how dumb those words were as soon as they spilled out of her mouth. Jen laughed and Freddy shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no. Biggest mistake in the book. They never come back in the movies,” he said.
“Freddy, we’re not in a movie,” Patrick said.
“That doesn’t matter if Russ thinks we’re in a movie,” Freddy muttered.
Carrie glanced anxiously toward the darkened kitchen again, not sure how else to convince the others to look for Michael.
“We can’t leave Mikey out there,” Jason said, and despite Carrie’s conflicted emotions around him, she felt a rush of gratitude. Jason would never leave his cousin behind. “Remember that time he went off to pee and came back two hours later covered in poison ivy?”
“Mikey’s a big boy now, he can take care of himself,” Jen said.
“He tried to protect us. We can’t desert him,” Carrie protested.
Jen and Tiffany wore identical sour expressions. Carrie should’ve known that as childhood best friends, they’d side together. She had to remember she was alone here. The Jumpscare Society might be her friends, but they weren’t necessarily her allies.
Thankfully, rescue came from Patrick. “Because if it were any of us, Jason wouldn’t leave us behind, either.”
“How about a compromise,” Jason said. “We’ll spend an hour looking for Mikey. He can’t have gotten far on foot. If we don’t find him, we’ll go and get help.”
“Only an hour?” Carrie said in dismay.
“An hour’s more than enough time. If he’s gone that long, we can assume he’s found a cell signal and gotten help,” Patrick said.
“Or he went to town by himself,” Jen scoffed. “He could be fleeing the country as we speak.”
“Well, we’ll have a better chance of finding him if we split up,” Jason said.
Freddy clutched his head and groaned. “Oh my God. That’s the number one rule of slashers. Never split up. Did the Jumpscare Society teach you nothing?”
To Carrie’s surprise, Jason rounded on Freddy. “Freddy!” he barked. “Those are movies.”
Everyone fell dead quiet, or maybe Carrie’s pulse suddenly seemed very loud.
What had happened to Jason during the past four years while she was gone?
He was normally the most patient and tolerant of them.
On the surface, anyhow. This could be the real Jason, the one who hadn’t known how to be discreet four years ago.
A vein popped on his forehead. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say, shut up. You’re just going to freak everyone out.”
He’d said everyone, but he gestured at Tiffany.
She looked like she was about to throw up, although more from Jason’s outburst than Freddy’s paranoia.
Interesting. Carrie’s pulse beat faster, but with hope.
If tensions between him and Tiffany were high, she might have a chance to get him alone later and finally get some closure. She just needed to muster her courage.
Freddy hung his head, mumbling an apology under his breath. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was about to apologize, too, but instead huffed out a weary breath.
Carrie broke the awkward silence with a cough. Jason’s words were harsh but true. Panic wouldn’t help them find Michael. “Nothing bad happens when they split up in Scooby-Doo,” she offered, giving Freddy a reassuring smile.
“And we’ll go in pairs. No one’s going out in the woods alone.” Patrick dug through the box of emergency supplies and started to hand out compasses.
“I’m going with Velma,” Jen said, clapping Patrick on the back. “Since he actually knows how to use this thing.”
Patrick shot his eyes heavenward as he handed a compass to Carrie. “You know how to use this?”
She smiled weakly. “I was in the Girl Scouts, remember?”
“I’m going with Carrie,” Freddy said quickly.
“I was in the Girl Scouts, too,” Tiffany announced. She just couldn’t stand to not be the best at everything.
Jen sniggered. “For three whole months, when you were seven. You told me you hated it.” Tiffany shot her a death glare.
“Carrie’s the Final Girl. I’m sticking to her like glue,” Freddy said.
Of everyone here, Freddy was the least stubborn and would be happy to follow her directions. But Carrie couldn’t resist standing up to Tiffany one more time. “I could go with Jason, if you’d rather go with Freddy, Tiffany,” she said innocently.
To her surprise, it was Jason who replied, not Tiffany. Jason’s eyes were glacial in the shadows. “Tiff’s coming with me. I don’t trust her and Freddy to not peace out and abandon the search.”
Tiffany touched an affronted hand to her chest like, Who, me? Carrie was gratified to see that Jason was unmoved.
Jen clapped her hands together. “Then it’s settled. Daphne and Fred go together, and Carrie goes with Shaggy.”
“Before we set out, I’ve got bottled water in the kitchen. And we can grab some snacks, too, since we never got to eat dinner,” said Patrick.
“I could use some snacks,” Freddy mumbled.
They were wasting precious minutes. Who knew where Michael was by now. “There’s no time! We have to—” Carrie started.
But Jason was already leading the way down the hall to the back of the cabin, flashlight extended. He motioned for everyone to stay behind him, ever the chivalrous gentleman, and Carrie’s heart twinged as she followed.
In the kitchen, he stood sentry while Patrick wrestled with the plastic overwrap covering a case of bottled water.
The sliding door was open, letting in the scent of rain and greasy charcoal from the barbecue.
Cedar Lake gleamed faintly in the distance, like a memory.
Michael was somewhere out there, wandering in the dark.
Where was he? What was he doing? Carrie shivered, wishing she had the time and courage to run upstairs and get a sweater.
“Forget the snacks. What we need is hardware.” Jen lunged for the knife block on the counter just as Freddy had the same idea.
“Hey, gimme that!” Freddy said as Jen beat him to the largest handle.
“Careful!” Carrie cried. They were going to hurt themselves worse than any potential attacker.
“You snooze, you lose, Shaggy.” Jen waved a chef’s knife with smug aplomb.
Freddy pulled the second-largest handle and looked crestfallen at the bread knife’s blade, which would be dangerous only if you were a baguette. Tiffany grabbed the remaining handle. The tiny but wicked blade of a paring knife glinted under their flashlights. “Trade?” Freddy said hopefully.
“No fucking way,” Tiffany said.
Freddy set the bread knife on the counter and started to pull things out of the drawers. Patrick yelped in protest as ladles and spatulas flew onto the floor. Whooping, Freddy triumphantly held a small corkscrew aloft. Carrie shook her head. What did he think he could do with that?
“Ooh! Are you going to uncork a nice Cabernet for Russ?” Jen said.
“I’ve seen The Girl on the Train,” he said darkly. He stashed the corkscrew into the pocket of his cargo shorts and picked up the bread knife again.
Patrick paused unpacking the water and shone his flashlight around the counter. Carrie’s skin prickled with alarm. She didn’t like how jerky his movements were, as if he were searching for something.
“That can’t be right. There were four knives in this block,” he said in a strangled voice.
Everyone froze, staring at the empty slots.
“What do you mean?” Tiffany said.
The Adam’s apple bobbed sharply in Patrick’s throat. “The largest knife is missing.”