It’s a gamble, but it pays off for her.
I push thoughts of the pack murderers inThe Texas Chainsaw MassacreandHellraiserout of my mind as quickly as they enter.
Jennifer still looks “girl next door” pretty despite spending the last however long compressed between a heavy velvet curtain and a brick wall.Her hair is only a little mussed, her green dress easily straightened, her name easily distinguishable on her sticker because her handwriting is flawless.She must have gotten out of the bar before the tag could be hit with blood spray.When she slidesout from her hiding place without any theatrics and whispers how relieved she is to see us, she’s immediately likable, and our group of five turns into six.
Jennifer and Billie form a new duo behind Laurie and me, while Campbell still trails at the back.Every time I glance over my shoulder, he seems to lag a little more, like the only thing that’s keeping him tethered to the group is that the alternative—being by himself—is so much worse.
We pass the last of the alcoves, and the corridor splits into an intersection, a red cross illuminated by bronze wall lamps whose flames all flicker in sync.We can keep going straight, into a claret-colored abyss that may or may not lead to an exit.We can turn left, into another long hallway that is as dimly lit as the others.Or, if we go right and trail behind a bar that lines the edge of the dance floor, we’ll end up back over at the side we came from.The other group’s territory.
“What do you think?”Wes asks as we idle, and I try to remember if I’ve been down here before.When it was lessCabaretchic.“Straight ahead?”
I don’t see why not.It makes sense that another exit would be at the back of the building, but then the club sits on a street corner, so there could be a side entrance, too.
“Laurie?”I ask, but she’s already shaking her head.
“I can’t remember shit about this level.”
“Me, neither.”Maybe this place really is the reason I don’t drink Kamikazes anymore.“We stayed up mostly on the mezzanine, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“What if it’s a dead end?”Jennifer whispers from behind me.She’s dug her fingers into her clavicle, gripping on for dear life.
“There’sa double meaning,” Billie mutters, and Campbell lets out a little sniff of fear.
“I think it’s more likely the whole thing connects back on itself,” I say.
That’s the theme of the building—a three-level maze filled with plenty of places to engage in illicit activities.I just don’t think the architects who came in and redesigned the former factory were thinking it’d be as illicit as murder.
I watch Wes as he mulls over our options.He’s thinking through our path before we take it, considering each route the crossroads presents to us and checking them against the way we came.He was doing that as we moved past the alcoves, at the coat check, downstairs in the bar.He’s been doing it this whole time.I never thought I’d find vigilance sexy.
“It’d be good if they all connected,” Wes says.“If we don’t find an exit at least we come back to something familiar… How are we doing for time?”
Campbell glances down at his watch, looks back up.“I can’t remember when we left, but it’s almost ten forty-five.”
Holy shit, Campbell.You hadonejob.
Before I can firmly categorize myself as confrontational, Laurie decides to be diplomatic.
“I don’t think it’s been that long, but let’s make sure we’re back to meet the others by eleven.”
“Let’s go straight ahead then.And let’s make it quick.”Since no one has the means or motive to argue with Wes, we trudge on.
Whether there’s an end to the hallway is unclear until we’re a few feet away and the gas lamp directly in front of us reveals that the path turns to the left.We’re a few steps from the corner when I spy a shadow creeping across the carpet.
My heart doesn’t clench in my chest.Not like when I saw the unmistakable movement of Billie behind the curtain.Instead, it plummets into my stomach, because I know it’s not actually a shadow.Iknow by the way it moves across the floor without merging with the dark patches of the hallway that the faint glow of the light sconces can’t reach, the way the carpet fibers bend under the weight of the shadow as it edges out farther and farther.It’s a stain.And it’s spreading.
“Wes,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.His back is stiff, even as his shoulders drop in a sigh.“I see it.”
“It’s not usually a great idea to walk toward the growing pool of blood,” I say, and Wes nods stiffly in front of me.
“I agree, but if there’s an exit around the corner…”
I hear his exhale, long and weighted, before he turns back to the group with a commanding look in his eye.It does nothing to abate the urge to eye fuck him some more, so I keep my stare trained over his shoulder.If he can’t follow rule six, I’ll do it for him… just in case.
“Stay close to the wall,” Wes says.“And if anyone comes around that corner…run.”
