Page 32 of The Killing Game

I’m completely open on this damned contraption. I curse myself for not running up the hill towards the front door. Quickly scanning my surroundings as I ascend, I press my back flat against the back of the elevator. The machine chugs along towards the deck. Gears click into the forest in front of me like a death clock.

Rising into the treetops, I change position to face the deck floor, hands gripping the edge as my only anchor to sanity. Inch by inch, the deck comes into view. Flood lights illuminating the sky. It’s not until the elevator comes to a full stop that I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. No foreboding presence is awaiting my arrival.

Carefully, I unlatch the door, scanning my surroundings to ensure I don’t get ambushed. After a beat of silence, I break into a full sprint into the cabin, careful to avoid the remnants of Colton’s body scattered across the ground. A mantra for survival repeating in my head.

Cell phone.

Keys.

Car.

Survive.

I trip over the metal coffee table in the middle of the room as I round its corners towards the front door. The sharp corner gouges into my shin, making my wince. A warm, radiating sensation tingles up my leg. I shove down my need to stop and check the wound. A little cut is the least of my worries right now.

I let out a sigh of relief as the entryway comes into view. All our cellphones are neatly placed where I had last left them. Sliding to a stop in front of the table near the front door, I fumble to grab my phone. Nothing happens when I click the side button to wake it. I click again, but the black screen stares back at me. The darkness reflects the grim night ahead of me. I throw my phone down and grab another. Then another. All our phones are dead. All phones except for Jason’s. Fingers tremble as I try to enter his passcode. The screen flashes at me.

Incorrect Pass Code.

“What?!” I shriek into the void of the cabin.

We’ve always shared pass codes in case of emergencies. Always told the group if we had to update the pass codes. Jason’s had the same one since high school. Or so I thought. I don’t know what to think about him anymore. Thought about him. Because he fell, too. He’s dead, too.

Something deep inside tugs at that thought. Sadness ripples through me and I squeeze my eyes shut. Tears threaten to spill over. Shakily, I take three deep breaths. There will be a time and a place to mourn what I lost today, but not now.

With the final breath, I open my eyes. Staring down at the phone screen, I swipe at the emergency button. Relief floods through me as a number keypad appears. Quickly, I tap 911.

Glass shatters around me before my thumb hits call. A scream escapes me as I raise my arms to shield my face. I stumble away from the glittery, violent shards falling in the air as I back into the love seat in the living room. Removing my arms and looking in front of me, dark eyes stare back at me behind a bloodied mask in the hole of the glass panel.

“Leave me alone!” I demand.

The eyes disappear, replaced by an arm that reaches through the opening for the deadbolt.

“No!”

I race forward and, with all my strength, slam my fists into that dark arm. It swings back at me, grabbing my neck before shoving me back. Returning to the door, the killer’s hand finds the deadbolt lock and flicks it open. The arm retreats from the hole in the glass panel into the darkness.

My body is frozen in place in the entryway. My breath is uneven as I stare into that blackened emptiness next to the front door. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out everything around me. Images race through my mind as I try to collect myself with what I should do next.

Breaking my thoughts, the front door swings open, banging into the wall behind it. I jump at the sound and look into the night beyond the entrance. Painted on a skull mask, staring back at me on a hulking frame, are those three bloody words:

Time to play

“Absolutely fucking not,” I mutter. I will my body to run. I sprint to the kitchen towards the knife block. An empty knife block. I search the counter and the drawers closest to me. Everything is gone.

How is that even possible?!

Heavy footsteps pull me from my panic. Ditching the offer of defense, I rip the backdoor open and run into the darkness. The full moon hides behind the clouds again, my only light dims from the overcast of the deck floodlights. I run my way to the perimeter of the cabin. Somewhere out here is the small work shed that houses the gardening tools and circuit breaker. At least, that’s how Colton made it sound. I prayed to the gods my hunch was right.

As I round the far corner, nearest to our bedrooms, a small wooden structure appears. I skitter to a stop a few feet away. Eyes and ears straining, I search for any whisper of the killer’s approach. I inch towards the shack, careful of each step, as if I could muffle the sound of sticks and leaves breaking under foot if I went slower. Swinging the latch open, an automated light flicks to life overhead.

Various garden tools lay about the walls, none of them in an organized fashion. I glance behind me before sifting through the mess in front of me. I’m looking for something suitable enough to stab with when I spot the circuit breaker on the back wall behind a large shovel. Pushing the spade out of the way, a gasp escapes my lips. A rainbow of wires hang out of the belly of the breaker box. The longest of them, a red one, is crudely twisted together in the middle. Following the wire back to the box, I spy the label the wire is connected to.

Main Cabin

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

My fingers play with the bundle in my hand, careful not to touch the exposed wires.