“What is it you’re trying to say…bro?”
While I think we all know where Stu is heading with his sentence, the offense I feel is tamped down by just how stern Wes looks again.Serious.His pace is unhurried as he moves, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly, his hand tight around the piece of wood.I don’t think he means it as a threat, but Stu straightens nonetheless, the grip around the neck of his broken bottle constricting, too.While he’s tall and broad shouldered, he has nothing on Wes, and he has to resort to angling his chin up as they face off, his voice tense when he says, “You’re thinking with your dick.”
Wes doesn’t even flinch; he just moves a step closer, and I can see it takes all of Stu’s self-control not to retreat.John is across the roomfrom me, his arms crossed over his chest and a pained expression on his face.He seems more conflict averse than the other men in the room, and we share a quick “boys will be boys” grimace.I can’t hold it against Wes, though.Not when he calmly—and correctly—states, “And you’re thinking with fuck all.”
He places two fingers against Stu’s shoulder and shunts him back.The strength in Wes’s shove catches Stu off guard, and then of course he’s got to save face.He drops his bottle, it lands on the ground with an underwhelming clunk, and then he puffs himself up like a tulle ball gown.For a second, I think he’s about to ram his head into Wes’s chest until Campbell plants himself right in the middle of them.
“H-hey!Do you want to fight, or do you want to get the fuck out of here?”
If I’m honest, they both look like they want to bump up the body count, and with a barrier between him and Wes, Stu finds his second wind.“Who put this asshole in charge, anyway?”
I watch Wes move back from Campbell’s palm.He holds his hands up in surrender and then squints across at Stu, who’s swerving his upper body around like he’s dodging phantom punches.Wes, on the other hand, looks like he could knock a guy out in one punch, and you’d only be appalled by it because it made you discover you have a new kink.
I look away so I don’t have to make that shameful discovery and my gaze falls on Laurie.She’s watching Stu like everyone else, her eyes narrowed, lips pressed in a thoughtful line, and I suspect she just might be developing the ick.Good.
“I don’t see you stepping up to the plate,” Wes says evenly.“If it was up to you, we’d still be down there standing in a bloodbath.”
Dani lets out a sob, like mentioning the basement has the power to transport her back to it.
“And if it wasstillup to you,” Wes says, “you’d send us all into an active crime scene, blind and alone.”
That makes Stu stop.“Fuck you, man.”
“Yeah?Fuck you right back,” Wes replies without missing a beat, and I have to bite down a laugh.
“What if we break up into two groups?”Laurie says.Her directorial authority comes in handy, and I can’t help but be a little relieved that the shock of downstairs has worn off.We need her big, boring, elitist brain.Not only that, but she’s been in this building as many times as I have.Hopefully we can supplement each other’s alcohol-induced knowledge gaps.“There’ll be four of us in each.We can spread out and find an exit… Jamie?”
Every head turns to look at me.I got us up to the first level without any further casualties; therefore, I’ve become the unofficial authority on navigating a massacre.
After he’s straightened from swiping his weapon off the ground, Stu gives me a once-over that speaks volumes.There is justsomethingin the way he looks at me that makes me want to shrink.It feeds into a preexisting complex and kick-starts a montage of doubt.When I paused and reconsidered my outfit earlier tonight.When I modulated the volume of my laugh in the bar in case it bordered on being too loud.When I tried to backtrack my serial killer references so Wes wouldn’t think I was a complete psychopath (and what a swing and a miss that was).I’ve heard that I’m “a lot” before, and it’s enough to make me think maybe my informed hypotheses aren’t enough to see us out of this situation.
I’m almost about to give in to my usual instinct to sit up and shut up.About to throw it back to the group and feign uncertainty, but then Wes catches my eye, nods almost imperceptibly, and I remember I shouldn’t care what a man like Stu thinks.
Not when the only suggestion he’s made is the leading cause of death among teens who cover up hit-and-runs or summon vengeful spirits.
“Two groups could work,” I finally say, thinking back over my catalog of slasher knowledge to try to determine a plan.Those filmsdon’t usually detail therightway to avoid a serial murderer, so I consider each scene that comes to mind as a nonexample.
Four against one is not as strong as eight.It seems like everyone is forgetting the killer cast off four people in complete darkness.They may as well have been doing it with their eyes closed.But this place is huge, and confusing, and if we stay where we are, we’re sitting ducks.Anyone could turn the lights off right now and add a few more strokes to their tally.
“If weallstay on the dance floor level and work our way toward the back, each group could cover one side of the club,” I say, cringing as I start to play out the scenarios that could happen even if an exit is found.They all seem to end in more bloodshed.I’m speaking more to myself than to anyone else when I add, “There’s still the issue of not having a way to communicate, and it’snota good idea to split up again and send someone to find the other group, so—”
“We should have a firm time limit on how long we look,” Laurie says, and I would kiss her if I wasn’t certain she’d slap me upside my head for attempting that kind of public display of affection.“Does anyone have a watch?”
Campbell and Stu do.Their dress watches weren’t considered “smart” enough to be confiscated at the start of the night, so they are the timekeepers for each group by default.“How does thirty minutes sound?”Laurie says, and I bite my tongue to avoid saying that in a slasher, a determined killer can hack through a hell of a lot of people in thirty minutes.Fortunately, Wes saves me from making a comment that would really ruin the gung-ho mood that’s developed now that we have a common goal.
“That sounds good.We should meet back on the dance floor when we’re done, report what we find.Hopefully the people who ran up here were able to get out somewhere.”
The others.More than half of the original daters ran away fromthe basement, and if they weren’t able to get out through the front door,wheredid they go?I can only hope that there’s another exit close by we’ll be able to find, too, but if there isn’t—if all those people are still here, hiding somewhere in the club—I hope we find them before the killer does.
Wes continues.“If we can’t find an exit, we come back, move to the mezzanine, and sweep through in the same way.”
It’s a great idea.
It’s not just me who thinks that.All around the circle, heads are nodding, hands stop wringing, shoulders are lowering from where they’ve been locked up against ears.The promise of safety in numbers and an exit light at the end of the tunnel is a plan easily adopted by everyone.
Well, almost everyone.
“That’s what I was going to suggest.”Stu’s voice is saltier than movie popcorn.
