Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Patrick waded into the water until it reached his knees. The lake was calm and lukewarm, indifferent to the tragedy that had occurred there. Carrie barely noticed him, clinging to Tiffany’s mutilated body like it was a life raft. Her chest heaved, breath wheezing deeply as she cried.
“Let her go, Carrie,” Patrick urged. “Let go.”
Carrie only sobbed, likely in shock. He gently pried her arms out from under Tiffany’s armpits, all the while glancing over his shoulder for any approaching axe murderers. He wasn’t sure if Carrie even knew he was there, until she whimpered, “Help her.”
Patrick reached out and closed Tiffany’s eyes. They would never flash with excitement or fury again. “This is all we can do for now. We’ll bring her to shore.”
One hand on Carrie’s warm arm, and another on what was left of Tiffany’s cold one, he guided them both to the beach. He dragged Tiffany on to the sand and laid her on her back. There. Now it looked like she was sleeping. Missing parts of her body, but sleeping. He thrust his grief deep down, into the box where he’d stashed his anguish at Freddy’s death. There would be timeto mourn later.Ifhe and his friends were lucky.Ifthey banded together and figured out how to survive the night.
Something stirred inside Patrick, and it wasn’t just the nausea and terror tossing his guts around like a basketball. It was the sensation of falling into a pattern. He felt like he was backstage at the Rialto again, holding the Super Soaker of fake blood and anticipating his cues. He’d watched so many horror movies that he always knew in his bones when the action rolled over like clockwork into the third act. He could never put his finger on what gave it away. A visual hint, like a shot of the full moon in a cloud-dusted sky. A change in background music, perhaps. A shift of mood, and character development.
Maybe his acceptance of the Slasher’s existence and his determination to survive had triggered this feeling.
Or maybe it was because they’d reached the part in the movie when everyone finally realizes the extent of the danger.
That was when shitreallygot ugly.
In any case, he and Carrie would be reunited with Jason and Mikey soon. All the remaining characters back together in one place, which meant it was time for the final showdown. A voice in the back of Patrick’s head gibbered with anxiety. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared. No checklists, no agendas, no documented processes he could follow to the letter. As if you could make a Kanban board or decision tree for this kind of situation. All he had was the panic streaming through his veins.
He straightened and took a deep breath. At least he could breathe. If he could breathe, he was alive, and that was all that mattered now.
Carrie hunched beside him, hands over her mouth like she was praying or trying hard not to throw up. Probably both. “Freddy’s dead, too,” she said weakly. “I should’ve never run away from him. I was so stupid.”
“Then you probably would’ve been killed, too. Did you see who did it?” Patrick asked.
Carrie shook her head, wiping her eyes. “No. After we all fell down the hill, I went back to the cabin. I peeked through the windows and saw Freddy’s body, but I didn’t see anyone else. I heard a motorboat, so I ran to the lake to get their attention. I thought they could help. But then—” She gulped. “I heard Tiffany scream. I—I freaked out. I ran to the trees and hid. It’s all my fault, Patrick. Tiffany and I had our differences, but she didn’t deserve this.”
Carrie broke down into a fresh wave of sobs. He drew her into a hug. Her clammy skin burned against his, although maybe he was just chilled from their predicament. “There was nothing you could do,” he said soothingly. There was nothing any of them could’ve done.
She buried her face in his chest, her tears hot against his shoulder. “When it got quiet, I came out of the woods and saw her floating in the water. I was trying to bring her to shore. To put her to rest. For Jason.” Her breath hitched. “I figured I could do that much.”
Patrick patted her back, murmuring comforting words even as his spine tingled. They were definitely at the last act. Carrie, their Final Girl, had been baptized by blood and tears.
“Why is he doing this?” she said. “What does Russ Meachum have against us?”
Patrick’s lips thinned. “It’s not Russ.”
“How do you know? Who else could it be?”
“Carrie!”
The voice was male, calling from the cabin’s back patio. Patrick turned abruptly but saw only the dark shape of the barbecue standing by the kitchen door.
“Michael! Oh my gosh. He’s back!” Carrie let go of Patrick and started eagerly up the path to the cabin.
“Wait!” Patrick scrambled to catch up, dread sickening his already sour stomach. He didn’t see Mikey, but a different broad-shouldered figure had emerged onto the back patio. Patrick took out his flashlight and turned it on.
It was Jason. The dread in Patrick’s stomach slackened. “Patrick?” Jason said. “Oh thank God, you found Carrie.”
Jason rushed forward and enveloped Carrie in a hug. She stiffened briefly in his arms before leaning into him and sniffling into his neck. Poor Carrie had probably always dreamed of Jason holding her this way, but never in circumstances like these. Patrick knew how conflicted she must feel.
Jason stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort, and then let her go and held his arms out to Patrick. “Since I was too busy putting out the fire to hug you earlier. I’m so glad you’re safe. You saw what happened to Freddy?”
Patrick nodded and slumped into Jason’s embrace, a rush of relief washing over him. Jason’s hair smelled like smoke, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. His body was warm and solid, and after the overwhelming terrors Patrick had experienced all night, the reality of Jason’s presence grounded him.
He could’ve stayed in the hug forever, but their current situation intruded as a breeze sent a chill across his damp skin. “Oh shit,” Patrick said, jumping away. His khakis were soaked to the thighs, and some of the blood on Carrie’s tank top had transferred to his when he’d put his arms around her. “I’m getting you wet.”
“I don’t care. I’m just thankful you’re both okay,” Jason said.
