The beginnings of a panic attack lurked behind her sternum and she forced herself to breathe deeply, making sure to stay downwind of Freddy’s vaping. She only smelled damp, fragrant earth but she couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t inhaling his cannabis, too. One of them had to keep their head, and it definitely wasn’t going to be Freddy.
“Has it been half an hour yet? Can we head back to the cabin?” Freddy said.
Carrie checked the time on her phone. “Freddy, it’s been ten minutes.”
Freddy swore. He’d put the vape away, thankfully, and the hand that held his flashlight shook. Carrie took another deep breath,filling her lungs as if she were about to dive underwater. This was a mistake. They were never going to find Michael, and Freddy’s twitchiness was unnerving and making her doubt herself.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, as much to herself as to Freddy. “Another twenty minutes and then we can turn around.”
“That’s twenty minutes in the woods with the knife-wielding town crazy. Or maybe it’s your ex.”
Carrie shivered at the mention of Daniel. “We don’t actually know if he’s anywhere near here.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’ssomeonewho’s got a grudge against us. Y’know, this is exactly like the plot of my screenplay.”
Carrie let out a sigh. Freddy had always been a dreamer, not a doer. Though she supposed it was hard living up to his overachieving older brother.
“Except it takes place in a movie theater, not the woods,” he added eagerly.
“Uh-huh,” said Carrie, only half listening as she swept the flashlight around. “Tell me more.” If she kept Freddy talking, maybe he’d stay calm.
“The audience of a late-night show is being stalked by an unknown killer. And it’s up to the janitor to save the day.”
Thankfully it was too dark for Freddy to see her eye roll. “Of course it is.”
“Because little do people know—” Freddy’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “He’s actually aretired hit man.”
“Sounds like a winner,” Carrie lied.
Freddy brightened. “You think so? I’m thinking it would be the perfect vehicle for Jason Statham. Or Liam Neeson. I’m calling it—” He paused and flourished his right hand, as if gesturing to a theater marquee. “The Janitor.I’m gonna pitch it asJohn Wickmeets Jason Voorhees in a Cineplex.”
“Mmhm.” The concept sounded so derivative it would probably get made, if Freddy ever finished the script.
“But unlikeJohn Wick,the stakes are extra high because thejanitor’s estranged wife and daughter are in the audience. But I don’t know what the twist is yet. There’s always a twist.”
“Mm-hmm.” Carrie swung her light to the left, toward a sudden scurrying noise. The light revealed nothing but trees. So many places for someone to hide.
Tension coiled inside her stomach. The hand that clutched the bread knife tightened and she doubted she’d be able to let go of it now, even though it wasn’t much of a weapon. How would she even use it on someone? She’d have to slice an artery as if it were a sourdough loaf. Her pulse hammered erratically as she pictured it.
Freddy didn’t seem to hear anything. He kept prattling on. “I’m only about halfway through the script. But I’ve got a killer opening scene. Imagine this.” He gestured with the hand that held the flashlight, like he was sketching a camera viewfinder in the air. “Exterior: the alley beside the theater, after it rains. The janitor steps out for a smoke. He checks his phone and sees a message from his wife that she’s gonna bring divorce papers for him to sign tonight. He stubs out his cigarette—and then sees a shadowy figure in the mist.”
His flashlight paused—and Carrie’s heart stopped. Beyond the weak beam of light, a dark figure stood. Motionless, a black cutout framed by the mist.
“Just like that!” Freddy announced, as if he’d conjured the vision out of his imagination.
Carrie squinted, holding her breath. Did it look like Ranger Russ?
The figure was tall and solid, and she could just make out a checked pattern on his jacket and a large object held with both hands.
An object with a long handle.
“Freddy,” she said in a low voice, hurriedly switching off her flashlight.
Freddy’s brain finally caught up with what he was seeing. “Shit.”
He plunged into the brush like a startled deer and disappeared.“Freddy!” Carrie cried out, forgetting she should stay quiet. “We can’t—”
She was talking to no one.
