Chapter 25 Patrick
Patrick
Carrie drew the axe out from the shadows.
It had been leaning against a shelving unit, obscured by the limp end of a partially unrolled Slasher Summer banner.
Patrick startled at first, then relaxed.
In hindsight, one of them should have taken the axe from the top of the stairs to defend themselves from Mikey, and Carrie was the best choice, since Mikey had been throwing shade on both Patrick and Jason.
Patrick didn’t want to believe Jason was capable of killing Tiffany.
He’d loved her, despite their tumultuous history.
Sure, it was possible for love to tip over into hate, or into a near-obsession, like Mikey’s feelings for Carrie.
But this was Jason. Patrick knew in his gut—and his heart—that Jason would never do such a thing.
So he was relieved that Carrie had rescued the axe from where Mikey had left it.
It was odd she was wearing gloves, though. Dark brown leather gloves, like the man who’d chased him to the fire tower with the axe. They looked out of place on her pale bare arms.
She sniffled and said, as calmly as if she were discussing the weather, “I knew I should’ve taken my allergy meds.
” She laughed, her light, tinkling Jordan Knox laugh that belied carefree innocence.
“But they always make me drowsy, and I needed to stay alert today. It’s too bad.
The sneeze gave me away to Freddy and things got messy. ”
She seemed to be talking more to herself than the others. Mikey regarded her with a frown, reflecting Patrick’s own puzzlement. Patrick had shown them all Russ’s dead body, and she was nattering on about her allergies.
“Be careful with the axe, Care Bear,” Jason said.
Carrie’s lips twitched, almost in a sneer.
Even Patrick winced at how patronizing that had come out.
Don’t hurt yourself, little lady. The muscles of Carrie’s bare arms flexed, although her grip on the axe never seemed to change.
The stark light of Patrick’s flashlight cast her in dramatic shadow.
Her upper arms were more toned than he remembered, the muscle definition betrayed by the weight of the axe.
She’d always been slim, but gone was the softness of their high school days. How had Patrick missed that?
He took her in again, really looking at her, instead of taking for granted she was the same sweet and wistful schoolgirl of four years ago. He catalogued the narrowed eyes, the set of her jaw, the locked, ready stance of her body.
There wasn’t a trace of softness in her anywhere.
An impossible thought struck him with the incandescence of a hundred lightning bolts.
She knew how to use that axe.
No, that couldn’t be right, even as the back of Patrick’s head screamed at him to run.
“Here, let me take that.” Jason gently motioned at the axe. He still hadn’t clued in. Neither had Mikey, who was gaping openmouthed.
Carrie shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.
” She turned the axe over and ran a hand lovingly down the cold steel of the blade.
The blade that had killed Tiffany, and maybe Jen.
The blade that had chased him through the woods.
Patrick’s legs locked into place, paralyzed by fear and indecision as he struggled with the unlikely truth.
“The axe,” Carrie continued, gazing lovingly at it like it was her baby.
“So simple, so underrated. Audiences love creative kills, but I’m more of a traditionalist. Mama raised me to be an old-fashioned girl.
I like the crude simplicity. There’s no arguing with an axe.
It’s a tool. It does what it’s meant to do. It chops things down. People too.”
She shifted her gaze to the three of them.
“Carrie?” Mikey said. The confusion on his face was so comical that Patrick almost pitied him. His dream girl had suddenly turned into a nightmare.
Carrie’s lips curled in a smile. “I’m glad you’re all here, so I don’t have to put on that getup again.
Do you know how hard it is to run around in a bulky hoodie and jacket in the summer?
Now I know why Ghostface keeps coming back in the Scream movies.
It’s so much easier to throw on a robe. I knew I should’ve dressed like him instead of the Slasher, but when in Cedar Lake—”
She shrugged, and then without warning, swung the axe at them.
Patrick grabbed Jason’s arm and yanked him away, praying his timing was right.
The axe curved in an arc—Carrie had always been innately graceful, like a ballet dancer—and issued a meaty whack as it connected with a body.
Patrick recognized the sound too well from his butchery class. Sour fear bubbled on his tongue.
He yanked again on Jason’s arm and nearly collapsed with gratitude as Jason crashed into him, still whole. Carrie barked with frustration and amusement. The axe had ended up in Russ’s chest, another blade to add to his collection.
Mikey hadn’t moved at all, goggling at Carrie like she was a car crash. “Run, Mikey! It’s her, she’s the Slasher!” Patrick yelled.
Mikey shook off his stupor and dashed to Patrick’s side as Carrie struggled to pull the axe out of Russ’s corpse. To Patrick’s dismay, Jason stepped forward. Toward Carrie. “Jason!” he yelled.
Patrick grabbed at his arm again, but Jason slipped from his grasp, approaching Carrie with curiosity and bafflement wrinkling his forehead. “Carrie?”
Jason’s easygoing nature had always stemmed from his knack of seeing the good in everyone.
Patrick had founded the Jumpscare Society, but Jason was the glue that stuck them all together.
He’d tried to befriend Russ. He’d protected Mikey.
He’d always laughed when Jen ribbed him and had encouraged Freddy’s pie-in-the-sky plans.
He kept going back to Tiffany, despite all the drama. And he’d been kind to Carrie.
Patrick didn’t know whether to hug Jason or slap some reality into him. Carrie had just tried to give him a very close shave and he was stopping to get her side of the story? “Jason, she’s trying to kill us! She killed the others, and probably Daniel, too!”
“She couldn’t have—”
Carrie put one booted foot up on Russ’s chest and yanked.
The axe lurched out of his cold flesh with a slick wet crackle.
Staggering backward, she regained her balance and spun quickly toward them, bouncing the axe handle against her opposite palm like she was counting the lives she’d taken. “Oh, but I did.”
“Daniel too?” Mikey’s face had gone white as a sheet. The knowledge that Carrie could turn against a boyfriend probably appalled him more than the murder of their friends.
“Daniel was a practice run. No one was going to miss him, least of all me. He really was stalking me.” Her mouth twisted, but not before her lips quivered with genuine emotion.
It wasn’t enough to make Patrick feel sorry for her.
“What about Russ? He did nothing to you.” He snaked his fingers around Jason’s wrist and inched backward, slowly, not wanting to surprise Carrie with any sudden movements.
Jason began to retreat in tandem, his eyes never leaving Carrie’s face.
Patrick prayed if they kept her talking, they’d be able to flee when her guard was down.
And he also just wanted to know. If Carrie, of all people, was going to slaughter them like cattle, he at least wanted to know why.
“Russ was a stroke of luck. His appearance threw me off at first, but then I realized I could work with him. The original plan was to say it was an obsessed Slasher fan. The costume and the axe would prove it. I had a costume in my duffel bag, by the way, when I ran into the woods after I arrived. Did you really think I was suddenly embarrassed to be here? I planted it in the woods and put another in the boat this morning.”
Carrie glanced back at Russ’s colorless face. “But Russ was the perfect fall guy. The town loner. Officer, he attacked me and my friends, and I had to kill him in self-defense.”
With her wide eyes and shaky voice, even Patrick believed her innocence.
“But how’d you get him down here?” Jason asked.
“My mom and I used to clean this place, remember? I still have copies of the keys. I dragged Russ in the blanket while you were all out by the cars. He was too groggy to put up a fight, thanks to Michael, although the pom-pom kept him quiet while I stabbed him.”
It was as breathtakingly simple as that. Except Patrick still couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t reconcile Carrie’s calm demeanor with the cruel violence of Tiffany’s hacked corpse or Freddy’s tangled entrails.
“Enough stalling.” Carrie raised the axe, determination hardening her delicate features. “It’s time to end Cedar Lake’s love affair with Slasher. This is going to be the last Slasher Summer, and you’re the closing act.”
“But why?” Patrick demanded. That was what haunted him the most about his sister’s death. Not knowing the reason was a torture that kept him up at night.
“You know why.”
“I don’t.”
“You all ruined my life,” she hissed.
“What are you talking about?”
She suddenly growled and charged with the axe.
Patrick yanked Jason back again, and they started grabbing things off shelves and throwing them at her.
Mikey lagged a little behind them, still staring forlornly at Carrie as if she’d just kicked his puppy.
He’d never been good in a crisis, despite his newfound bravado.
At least for Jason’s sake, he was out of harm’s way.
And Patrick was a little sympathetic. Mikey had pined for Carrie for years.
If Jason had turned out to be the killer, Patrick would’ve found it hard to act against him, too.
“You ruined my life and you don’t even know what you did!” Carrie screamed, and there it was. There was the vengeful fury that had butchered Tiffany and Freddy.