Chapter 8 Patrick #3
“Tiffany!” Jason followed her out the door. Her retreating silhouette thinned in the glare of the car’s headlights.
Patrick suppressed a groan. An unconscious park ranger had not been on his bingo card for this weekend.
Russ was in rough shape, even if he was alive, and head wounds could be dangerous.
They had to get help for him soon. He hastily set the snow globe down on the sofa and ran after Jason and Tiffany.
“Hold on, Tiff,” Jason was calling out from between their parked cars. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s dark out. We need to stay together.”
“Horror movie rules,” Freddy piped up, coming down the porch steps with Jen.
Jason nodded. “Either we walk to town, or stay at the cabin and wait for the power to go back on, but we have to decide to do it together.”
“We should get help for Russ,” Patrick said. “He’s probably concussed.”
“I’m not staying in the cabin with him. What if he’s faking being hurt?” Freddy said.
Patrick didn’t think anyone could get up after a hit to the head like that. But he said, “All right. Let’s go. We should get Tiffany to wait while we get some supplies for the walk to town.”
Patrick strode down the driveway, shielding his eyes from the headlights of Russ’s SUV. Jen and Freddy trotted ahead, calling Tiffany’s name.
“Tiff,” Jason said.
Tiffany ignored everyone, walking past the parked cars and toward the road, the backs of her legs streaked with spattered mud. The rain had let up, spitting lightly over their heads.
“Tiffany!” Jason bellowed in a voice Patrick had never heard before, not even on the football field. Even Jen and Freddy stiffened in shock. It was especially jarring since he’d been withdrawn most of the night.
Tiffany spun around, her blue eyes round as saucers. Patrick had the sudden chilling suspicion she was actually afraid of Jason.
“Stay away from me!” she yelled, resuming her frantic pace.
Jason growled and sprinted up to her. Patrick didn’t like the look of this. Jason and Tiffany had always had drama, but never anything that appeared like it would come to blows. He ran forward and inserted himself in front of Tiffany.
“Whoa,” Patrick said, holding out his hands like a referee.
This was his own fault for inviting them both to the cabin without checking if they were still together first. “Everyone take it down a notch. Tiffany, I know you’re really scared right now, but Jason’s right.
Don’t run off on your own. It’s not safe in the dark. ”
“Sure, take his side,” Tiffany sneered.
Her contempt was a slap to Patrick’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He shook his head, as if he could shake off her rudeness. “I’m looking out for both of you. For everyone.”
He glanced at Jen and Freddy for confirmation. Freddy nodded, but Jen was watching smugly like she wanted to break out the popcorn.
“Come on,” Patrick urged. “I’ve got compasses in the box of emergency supplies. I was going to take you all on a hike tomorrow morning, and figured our phones wouldn’t be reliable.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we take Russ’s car?” Jen said.
Patrick felt like an idiot for overthinking it. The tension vanished from Tiffany’s face. She started to march back to the cabin, twisting away from Jason as he tried to apologize for yelling.
Jen opened the driver’s-side door of the Park Services SUV and groped inside. “Fuck. He took his keys with him.” She turned off the headlights and slammed the door shut. “Guess we’re gonna have to raid his skinny ass. Who wants to do the honors?”
Her head whirled around as Carrie burst out the front door and ran down the porch steps.
Alone.
Carrie’s face was a mask of despair. Trepidation rose in Patrick’s belly again. If he had to change his plans one more time he was going to lose his shit. “What’s wrong now?” he demanded.
“It’s Michael,” she said breathlessly. “I couldn’t stop him. He said this was all his fault and he was going to try to get a phone signal to call an ambulance for Russ. I told him to wait, but he ran out the back.”
“Damn it, Mikey,” Patrick muttered. Again trying to play the hero for Carrie. Mikey was book-smart, not street-smart, and definitely not woods-smart.
Patrick tramped up the stairs with irritation. “Mikey!” he called out. Each time they made a reasonable plan, it went to shit in a matter of minutes. Why couldn’t his friends just do what he said?
Patrick hoped Mikey would answer, because he really didn’t want to go inside and face that ugly bloodstain Russ had left. His skin crawled, telling him it was a bad idea to reenter the cabin.
“Where’s Mikey?” Jason asked from behind him.
Patrick reluctantly stepped over the threshold and swept his flashlight through the darkened front room, unsettled by the ramshackle state they’d left it in. The tipped-over unicorn, the paperweight askew by the telephone, the dining chair out of place. He itched to straighten everything.
And then there was the snow globe he’d set down, which had rolled off the sofa onto the floor.
The empty floor.
Patrick swallowed. “Where’s Russ?”