Chapter 2 Patrick
Patrick
“Do you like scary movies?”
The sinister voice hissed out of Patrick’s car speakers as he’d paired his cell phone for hands-free driving. Under different circumstances it might have sent a chill up his spine, but the ID on his phone screen, visible from its dashboard mount, gave the caller away.
“Hello to you, too, Jen,” said Mikey, leaning forward from the back seat.
The voice cackled, no longer so creepy. “Tiff wanted me to call. Says ETA twenty minutes. Someone needed to go back for her fucking hair dryer.”
“The hair dryer at the cabin will probably be from the eighties!” a girl yelled in the background.
Patrick cast a glance at Jason, who was riding shotgun. He was worried Tiffany’s shout might’ve upset him, but Jason had turned to the window as if they were passing an especially interesting cluster of trees. “We’ll be there in ten,” Patrick said.
“See, Tiff? Patrick’s not losing his shit because we fucked up his schedule,” Jen said.
“I built in a buffer in case one of us got caught in traffic.”
“Of course you did. All right. Later, losers.”
“Don’t call them losers!” Tiffany said.
“Fine,” Jen said. Patrick smiled at the exasperation in her voice. “See you lovely gentlemen in a trice. I anticipate our reunion with bated breath.”
Jen disconnected. Despite her usual sarcasm, she’d summed up Patrick’s feelings exactly. Anticipation with bated breath. One last meeting of the Jumpscare Society, before their old hangout got razed in the autumn.
Patrick had started the Jumpscare Society in his junior year of high school.
His father had moved them from the nearby city of Fairvale after his sister Clare’s murder, thinking Cedar Lake was sleepy and safe.
It had turned out to be too sleepy for his parents; his father escaped on countless business trips, while his mother treated her grief and boredom with the best rosé her husband’s money could buy.
Mom had been appalled Patrick would start a club dedicated to watching horror movies, especially after what had happened to Clare.
She’d been ready to disown him when he and his friends had been invited to join the Rialto’s shadow cast, acting out Slasher for the fans who flocked to the theater on October weekends and three days a week in the summer.
Patrick didn’t know how to explain it was his way of processing Clare’s death.
There were so many questions no one could answer.
Had her murder really been random? Clare had been the only Black girl at Sigma Kappa, but she’d recently traded bedrooms with a sorority sister.
Did Patrick wish the other girl had been strangled by an unknown intruder instead, and her family shattered by the tragedy? It wasn’t a fate he’d wish on anyone.
Underneath the B-movie camp, Slasher showed that sometimes senseless violence happened for no good reason, and contrary to his father’s belief, no amount of money could save you.
But more important, slasher movies showed there was always a chance of escape.
A girl could fight back. It was like that G.
K. Chesterton quote about fairy tales. The point wasn’t that dragons were real, but that they could be defeated.
The Jumpscare Society had understood this, that slashers were more than just one campy cult classic that flooded the town with annoying tourists.
Patrick had sorely missed the club’s acceptance over the past few years.
At Harvard, his friends in the economics program either thought slashers were too lowbrow or clamored for his opinion, as a Black man, on Jordan Peele’s oeuvre.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Mikey bounced impatiently in his seat as if he were a small child who needed to use the toilet. Jason and Mikey were cousins, and the same age, but Mikey’s puppyish manner had always made him seem more like a little brother.
“I’m driving the speed limit.” A weather notification popped up on the screen of Patrick’s phone. Chance of a thunderstorm later. That was fine, there was plenty of fun to be had indoors. Patrick swiped the message away.
“Exactly.” As if to prove Mikey’s point, a couple of cars passed them on the left, including a Park Services SUV. “C’mon, there was a little old lady at the wheel of that Cadillac.”
“I’m driving the speed limit,” Patrick repeated firmly.
Mikey didn’t understand. He’d never gotten in trouble with anyone, thanks to Jason looking out for him in high school.
If the cops pulled Mikey over, his blond hair and blue eyes ensured the most he had to fear was a speeding ticket.
Patrick, on the other hand, walked the path of the straight and narrow—which was ironic, since he was anything but straight.
Also, risk attracted the unknown. Patrick hated himself for often wondering if Clare had inadvertently done something to draw a killer’s attention.
Had she flirted with the wrong guy? Said something flippant to a stranger?
He would never know. Violence could be random, but he still felt it prudent to play it safe and not tempt fate.
“I don’t know why we have to go back there,” Jason said, his head still turned to the window.
Mikey spoke first, giving Patrick time to nurse his hurt feelings. “The Slasher cabin? Are you kidding? When it’s gonna be torn down soon?”
Patrick bit his lip. “I wanted to get everyone together. We haven’t all been in the same place since high school grad.”
His parents had finally split up after he’d graduated, Dad relocating to his Chicago office and Mom spending her divorce settlement in New York, and he had no reason to come back to Cedar Lake anymore.
He would’ve happily visited Jason over the holidays, but Jason had never asked, and Patrick didn’t want to torture himself by fishing for an invite.
He was done pining for boys he couldn’t have.
Mikey was also attending college in the Boston area but had repeatedly ghosted Patrick’s texts.
Patrick understood. College was a fresh start for Mikey, who’d been picked on in high school even after a late growth spurt that put him an inch taller than Jason.
Mikey was probably afraid Patrick would accidentally reveal some of the more embarrassing episodes to his new MIT friends.
“We could’ve come to Boston since you and Mikey are already there. Or we could’ve had a fun weekend in Vegas,” Jason said.
“It’s not the same.” Patrick knew he sounded like a petulant toddler, but he didn’t care. The cabin was the only appropriate place for a Jumpscare Society reunion.
Jason turned to him, his words cracking like a whip. “When are you going to live in the present, Patrick?”
The intensity in Jason’s voice took Patrick aback. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the winding road. “I don’t—”
“You’ve always been stuck in the past, or the future.”
“That’s not—”
But it was true. Patrick diligently planned for the future, because of what had happened in his past. “It’s always good to be prepared,” he said stubbornly.
Jason said nothing else, just turned away again.
Patrick let out a small sigh. This reunion was getting off to a great start.
Something was eating at Jason, and he wished he knew what it was and how he could help.
Jason was on the outs with Tiffany yet again, which was why he was riding up with Patrick and Mikey.
It was too much to hope they were broken up for good.
Bad things happened when people thought Cedar Lake’s reigning young couple were over. Just look at Carrie Zhao.
There weren’t any signs along the highway directing tourists to the cabin, to discourage unsanctioned gawkers.
The car’s GPS told Patrick to turn right on an innocuous dirt road, though he could’ve driven there in his sleep.
This was his favorite part. The tall conifers seemed to part for them, the golden evening sun flashing through the branches like a magic lantern, and then all they could see was the sprawling cedar forest the town was named for.
Mikey drummed his hands on Jason’s headrest. Jason ignored him, his head tilted toward the window like he was reading a message in the feathery cedar needles.
Something sparkled in the distance, the light at the end of the long tunnel of trees. The surface of Cedar Lake, catching the last rays of light. Patrick’s heart beat quicker. A few minutes later and the road fanned out into a clearing, the lake a shining backdrop behind their destination.
The cabin where Slasher had been filmed.
Patrick let out an exultant breath and parked the car on the patchy dirt driveway in front of the familiar structure, tucked within a copse of tall trees. A wooden veranda hugged a two-story cabin with a steeply pitched roof, looking like something out of—well, a movie.
He was amazed it appeared the same, cozy and ominous at the same time, its weathered log siding making it look like it had just sprouted out of the dirt as a respite for weary travelers.
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting.
It had been only four years since he’d last been here, after all.
It just felt like a lifetime, now that they’d left high school behind.
Mikey shot out of the car, not bothering to close the door. His eyes goggled as he stared at the cabin. “Wow! I can’t believe you managed to get us in for the weekend. I thought there’d be a waiting list, since Slasher Summer starts next week and this is the last season they’re renting it out.”
Patrick climbed out of the driver’s seat and leaned against the roof of the car to take in the view.
The familiar scent of pine and damp earth was a balm for his soul.
“Anything for you guys. There was a last-minute cancellation and Jason’s mom called me right away.
” Mrs. Ackerman worked in the rental office and had been happy to hear from Patrick when he’d first hatched his plan.
Anything that brought her son home to visit was fine with her.