How had Jason known? “Yes.”
“Oh my God. Tiff.” Jason’s knees buckled. Michael quickly slung his arms around his cousin to keep him from falling to the ground. Another surprise. Michael, for once, was the strong one.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Michael said, his voice cracking. “I was standing on the dock. I couldn’t do anything.”
“It’s not your fault.” Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and then he seemed to find one last ounce of strength. He straightened and rubbed his wet eyes. “Come on. Let’s get to the cabin. I was with Carrie and Patrick, but we got separated. We were supposed to meet back there and then make our way to town.”
“Carrie and Patrick? They’re okay?” Michael said hopefully.
“They were when I left them.” Jason’s face softened, and Michael’s gut burned with a different kind of fear. Tiffany was dead, and now the path was clear for Carrie to take her place. Michael was going to have to work harder to prove he was twice as worthy as Jason.
“Was that you calling for help earlier?” Jason asked. “We heard someone.”
Michael frowned. “No.”
“Shit. It was probably a trap. You haven’t seen Freddy, have you? Carrie said he was acting strangely and they split up.”
“Freddy always acts strangely. No, I haven’t run into him.”
“Or Jen? Patrick said she bailed on him and was heading for the Cedar Lake Motel.”
“She must be miles from here, then.” Michael snorted. “She’s probably kicking back with her feet up and laughing at us.”
Jason nodded. “All right. We’ll get everyone else we can, and go. I don’t like leaving anyone behind, but I don’t want to risk the rest of you.”
He clapped Michael on the back and took off for the cabin, wobbling slightly. Michael was disappointed his cousin wasn’t leaning on him anymore, but he followed, because that was what you did around Jason. The golden boy had recovered a little of his shine.
Michael had always wanted some of that. He envied Jason’s ability to pull himself together in the face of catastrophe. His own insides quivered like Jell-O as he caught up to his cousin, mentally scolding himself to keep his shit together. Carrie needed him.
“Who do you think was in the boat?” he asked.
Jason’s mouth was grim. “I don’t know. Russ Meachum, probably.”
“I thought I knocked him out!”
Jason gave him a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The good news is that he got up again. The bad news is that he disappeared, along with a knife. We think he’s pretending to be the Slasher. Patrick said a man in a mask chased him around the woods with an axe.”
Michael’s scalp prickled. “Shit. When I was in the woods, I found a Slasher costume and an axe. I thought a fan had left them.” He shook his head. “That fucking movie.”
Michael had wanted to say that out loud for years. Because of that movie, he’d died onstage at the Rialto night after night as the audience yelled,Nerd!Every performance reinforced that was how everyone saw him. Weak, cowardly Ralph, who takes off in the canoe to sulk after all the girls reject him. No wonder Carrie had never thought of him as a romantic prospect. “You wanna know something?”
“What?”
“I don’t even like horror movies. I only joined the club becauseof you.” It was either stick with Jason and get a ride home in his cousin’s car, or take the school bus, where he’d get wedgied for sure. And then he kept coming because of Carrie. He’d been so happy when she’d joined. Ever since he’d moved in with Jason’s family, he’d hardly had a chance to see her.
Jason barked a laugh. The mirth didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m beginning to not like horror movies either.”
They continued their trek, clinging to the edge of the woods, pace as solemn as a death march. The peaked roof of theSlashercabin appeared in the distance, and moonlight illuminated the empty back deck. A loon cried from the lake, emphasizing the isolation and loneliness. Michael was certain this exact same tableau was in the movie. Two-thirds of the way through the film, after most of the cast is dead, setting the scene for the last act.
Jason must have noticed it, too. “Do you see anyone?” he whispered.
Michael shook his head, a thread of despair worming its way through his heart. What if Carrie hadn’t made it back? He didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Okay. Let’s check the toolshed first,” said Jason. “There might be something we can use against Russ. The two of us could probably break down the door together.”
Michael hoped Jason would let him hold any makeshift weapons they found. Carrie would be so impressed. But Jason would probably never think of arming Michael, because Jason had always been the protector and Michael the victim. Michael pushed aside his resentment. Now wasn’t the time. Soon, though. Soon Jason—and Carrie—would see that Michael could take care of himself.
They crept to the side of the cabin, past the stacked firewood to the faded shed where the yard tools were stored. Michael let Jason go first, taking up the rear, keeping watch for a masked killer while his heart pummeled his rib cage.
