Chapter 19 Tiffany
Tiffany
Tiffany’s mind swirled as she half rolled, half slid down the muddy hillside, her right sneaker flying off.
Why hadn’t she worn lace-ups, instead of these cute slip-ons?
Something sharp gouged the back of her bare thigh and her mouth opened to cry out, but a scream was already ripping from her lungs, piercing the night like a siren.
She caught a glimpse of the others skidding down the hill, bodies blurring as her descent jostled her around like a sock in a dryer.
Carrie’s voice shrilled from above, screaming Jason’s name.
Jason hollered back. Patrick called for Jason, followed by a bunch of very un-Patricklike swears squalling through the trees.
No one was yelling her name, but she was too terrified to care.
Only one thought sliced through the maelstrom in her head, sending her panic circling faster and faster: If Ranger Russ didn’t know where they were, he certainly did now.
After an eternity, she finally ran out of hill to fall down. Her fingers dug into wet sand as gravity finished its job, leaving her flopped on her belly like a beached whale, knees and elbows and throat scraped raw.
“Jason? Patrick?” she moaned, lifting her head. “Anyone?”
The only answer was the plaintive cry of a loon from Cedar Lake’s calm waters. Normally Tiffany drew comfort from the lake, but its broad expanse only reminded her how small and powerless she was. How alone.
Tiffany groaned and rolled to a sitting position.
The back of her left thigh stung. She gingerly prodded the source of the pain and winced as she found wet, tender flesh.
Her fingertips came away bloody. A rock or fallen branch had taken a bite out of her leg.
That was going to leave an unsightly scar. Thank God the cheer team wore tights.
On the bright side, now that she was at the lake, she could easily find her way back to the cabin. The dock was even visible, a shadowy peninsula a short distance away, as was the abandoned fire pit. She could make it.
Tiffany wiped her face with the back of her hand and tasted dirt and grass. It tasted disgusting. It tasted wonderful. It meant she was alive.
For now. How long until Russ caught up to them?
She had to put as much distance between herself and the others as possible.
Let Russ find them first. She scrabbled to her feet, forgetting she had only one shoe.
Her shod foot slipped on the uneven ground and her ankle twisted at an unfamiliar angle.
Fuck! She’d sprained her ankle before, she knew what it felt like.
She howled more from the injustice than the pain, then quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.
Hopefully the lake would steal that noise and throw it far and wide, and Russ wouldn’t be able to pinpoint her location.
She straightened, ankle throbbing dully.
She figured she had a good half hour before it started to swell.
Enough time to make her way to the cabin and hole up until the power came back on.
Kicking off her spare shoe, Tiffany began to hobble barefoot across the beach.
The shifting sand was murder on her ankle, and the blood trickling sluggishly down her leg tickled.
Thank God the cheer season was over. If she got out of Cedar Lake alive, she could spend the rest of the summer recuperating and be good as new for the fall.
Clive would be happy to drive her around.
He was the type who liked stepping up for a helpless girl.
Much like Jason, Tiffany thought with a twist in her gut.
She cursed her timing. Trying to kiss him while someone with an axe was running amok had been a mistake.
Every slasher movie showed how that ended.
And now Carrie had gotten her hooks into him at last. Well, they deserved each other.
Some men couldn’t handle a strong-minded woman who knew what she wanted out of life.
Carrie would be happy to go along with Jason’s pathetic lack of ambition.
Tiffany wiped a tear from her grubby cheek and told herself it was from the pain in her ankle.
When she realized she’d lost her phone, flashlight, and paring knife in the fall, the tears fell in earnest.
She nearly dropped to her knees in the sand, the despair crushing her with its weight.
No amount of money or influence would save her.
She had nothing. Nothing with which to fight off the Slasher, nothing to even tell her what the fucking time was.
No one was coming to help. Not her friends, her family, her admirers.
And especially not Jason. Clive would love to rescue her, but he had no idea she’d gone to the Slasher cabin with the Jumpscare Society.
She hadn’t wanted him to know she’d be seeing Jason, so she’d told him she was visiting her parents for the weekend.
For the first time in her life, Tiffany felt utterly alone. A queen without a court. She longed for someone to come and take her out of her misery. Anyone’s company would do. Even Carrie would’ve been welcome.
Tiffany dragged herself forward, survival instinct taking control of her body. She was alone, but at least she could rely on the fear. Fear would be her friend now.
The same friend whispered in her ear as she gazed up at the cabin.
She wiped the tears from her eyes, listening to what the fear was telling her.
What if Carrie was right and it wasn’t Russ, but Freddy waiting inside?
He’d had the Slasher mask in his van. Maybe he’d gone crazy from all the drug use.
She’d heard stories about junkies who did deranged things while high.
Or Freddy could be bitter about being stuck in town, cleaning toilets for minimum wage.
He’d been working on that screenplay forever, and everyone knew writers were unstable.
Especially struggling writers. Patrick had shown them The Shining.
What if the cabin was Freddy’s Overlook Hotel?
A light across the lake caught Tiffany’s eye.
She swiped away the last of her tears, unsure if she was imagining things.
She wasn’t. The clouds drifted in front of the moon, dimming her surroundings, and she was able to make out a faint glow between the trees.
Hope sparked in her chest. She remembered the summer camp had a generator in case of blackouts.
Someone had turned on a cabin light, or maybe Uncle Vic or a counselor had popped outside with a lantern.
If she got their attention, they could call for help.
Tiffany hobbled for the dock. Jen had said she’d seen Ranger Russ standing on the other side, watching her.
That meant someone at the camp should be able to see Tiffany.
She stripped off her T-shirt and waved it in the air.
She wished she could call out but was afraid Russ—or Freddy—would hear.
The light winked out as quickly as it had turned on. Shit. “No!” Tiffany cried, not caring anymore who heard her. Her knees almost gave out from the disappointment. She wanted to strip off the rest of her clothes and slip into the water. Let it swallow her like despair.
The water. Tiffany’s brain lit up with an idea, ignited by her new BFF, Fear.
The canoe was gone, but she could swim across.
It wouldn’t be a big deal for a strong swimmer like her.
Her ankle might hurt like a bitch, but in the water, she was a mermaid.
She had the medals hanging up in her parents’ house to prove it.
Alice would be mortified her big sister was crashing the camp, but she’d just have to suck it up. Uncle Vic had a satellite phone for emergencies. The kids should be evacuated anyway, if there was an axe-wielding stalker on the loose. More important, Tiffany would be safe over there.
She was now grateful that she’d accompanied Jason to the Jumpscare Society back in high school. She’d gone only to spend time with him, but she finally understood what all those gross and gory movies were teaching them. That anyone could survive the worst, as long as you made the right choices.
Tiffany didn’t need Jason or anyone else to rescue her.
She was going to rescue her own damn self.
Let Carrie simper and cling to Jason’s arm.
That was all the Virgin Carrie was good at.
Maybe in movies, Goody Two-shoes like Carrie survived, but in real life, women like Tiffany triumphed.
You didn’t see meek little church mice giving TED talks and motivational seminars.
It was all fierce blondes publishing self-help bestsellers and filling auditoriums. Tiffany could be just as strong.
Think of the book deal she would get afterward.
The speaking engagements. One woman’s tale of survival under adversity, and how she put her life back together after hitting rock bottom.
Dumped by her high school sweetheart, and then stranded in the wilderness with a crazy axe murderer?
People would eat that shit up. She’d be an inspiration. They might even make a movie about her.
And anyway, she was too pretty to die.
Tiffany hurriedly stripped off her shorts, glad she’d had the foresight to wear a swimsuit, and dove off the end of the dock.
The water still held some of the day’s heat, like a bath that had cooled down.
Her ankle throbbed as she kicked, and the gouge at the back of her left thigh stung, but her determination blotted out the discomfort.
She had a moment of panic as she remembered the man in the Slasher mask who’d tried to drown her earlier.
But it was now dark and quiet. She’d hear him if he entered the lake.
And he’d caught her by surprise, while she was floating on her back and daydreaming.
Just let him try to catch her as she sliced through the water with her champion front crawl.