Richard Laymon: Blood Games

Vandals had carved names, initials, dates, hearts, and even a few swastikas into them. Some of the vandals must’ve shinnied up them to maim the higher areas. Near the top of the tilted pole, someone had left a hunting knife embedded in the blanched wood of a wing.

A metal sign, bent and rusted, was nailed at eye level to the upright pole. It read, KEEP OUT.

‘Why would a lodge have a sign telling people to keep out?’ Vivian asked.

‘It isn’t open to the public,’ Helen explained, and turned onto the entry road. The leaning post didn’t fall. But as the car nosed upward, Finley’s legs kicked away from the windshield. Abilene heard some thumps through the ceiling, and figured she must’ve tumbled backward. Seconds later, the legs returned.

‘I hope Finley kept her camera going,’ she said. ‘We’ll have some interesting views.’

‘Spinning tree tops,’ Cora said.

‘Some of these branches are awfully low.’ Helen sounded worried.

‘If we have a casualty, can we go home?’ Vivian asked.

‘You should be tickled,’ Cora told her. ‘This isn’t a camp-out.’

‘Right. Instead, we’re going to some damn lodge that isn’t open to the public. Who, exactly, is it open to?’

‘Just us,’ Helen said. ‘I hope. As far as I know, it’s been abandoned for about twelve years.’

‘Oh, great. Charming. I can see this is gonna be a thrill and a half.’

‘That’s the whole idea,’ Helen said.

‘Knowing you, it’s probably haunted.’

‘I guess we’ll find out.’

Just then, the road levelled out. The hood of the car lowered, revealing the area ahead. Abilene leaned a little to the right. Off in the distance, framed on both sides by Finley’s pink socks, was The Totem Pole Lodge.

Vivian leaned toward her. Their shoulders touched as they shared the view.

‘Utterly delightful,’ Vivian muttered.

‘Great, huh?’ Helen sounded as if the lodge fulfilled her best expectations.

‘What was this place?’ Cora asked.

‘Kind of a resort,’ Helen said.

‘A last resort,’ Vivian said.

‘It was famous for its hot springs. And its cuisine. People came here for cross-country skiing in the winter. It was a hunting lodge in hunting season. The rest of the time, people came for hiking and fishing, that kind of thing. The place was quite popular during its heyday.’

‘Looks like shit now,’ Cora said.

A fist reached down between Finley’s legs and rapped on the windshield. ‘Stop the car, okay?’

When it came to a halt, Abilene said, ‘This is far enough for me,’ and swung open her door. She climbed out. It felt good to be standing up after the long drive. She stretched. She peeled her moist blouse away from her back. She took a deep breath, enjoying the woodsy aromas.

If the lodge could simply pull a quick disappearing act, she thought, this might be a wonderful place.

A bit too hot, but…

Finley leaped down off the roof and landed beside her.

‘Awesome joint,’ she said, aiming her camera at the lodge.

‘ “With the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.” ’

‘Say what?’

The others climbed out of the car. They all stood motionless, staring at the lodge.

It was a broad, two-story structure with walls of gray stone that looked solid enough to last for a few thousand years and a steep shake roof that sagged near the middle and might not last through the next winter.

Some of the porch roof had already caved in, thanks to a tree branch. The branch, over near the north corner, looked like an arm tom from a giant and rammed down through the top of the porch, hand first. Its jagged stub protruded from the roof. Its lower limbs formed a leafless tangle blocking that end of the porch.

A few of the lodge’s upstairs windows were hidden behind closed shutters. Most of the shutters, however, hung open or dangled crooked or were simply gone. At least half of the windows that Abilene could see were broken.

At the center of the porch, straight ahead, the lodge’s front door stood open.

‘The doorman must’ve been expecting us,’ Abilene said.

‘Come on, Hickok, let’s you and me go on ahead. The rest of you guys wait till we’re there, then come on in and I’ll get the big arrival.’ Finley started toward the lodge.

Abilene joined her. Twigs and leaves crackled under their shoes.

Though the road was littered with debris from the surrounding forest, enough areas had been swept clear by the wind for Abilene to see patches of gray, cracked pavement. Weeds, wild grass, and even a few saplings grew in the fissures.

She came upon a broken sapling.

‘Look at this.’

‘So?’

She crouched over it. ‘Somebody’s been here. Recently, too. The leaves are still green.’ She folded a small leaf between her thumb and forefinger. It felt a little springy, but it split. ‘I bet it hasn’t been dead more than a week.’

‘Maybe Bambi stepped on it.’

‘Maybe this place isn’t as deserted as it looks.’

Finley wrinkled her nose. She nodded. ‘Come on.’

They continued toward the lodge. In front of the porch, the road flared out like a T. The lane on the right led past the lodge to a long ramshackle structure that appeared to be some kind of parking bam with empty stalls for at least a dozen vehicles. The other lane had a turn at the far corner of the porch and seemed to lead around toward the rear.

‘I guess this is close enough,’ Finley said. Halting at the foot of the porch stairs, she faced the road, raised her camera and shouted, ‘Action!’

For a moment, Abilene watched the Wagoneer rush forward. But the back of her neck felt crawly. She turned her head and stared at the open door.

All she could see beyond it was shadowy gloom.

We must be out of our minds, she thought, coming to a place like this. Just for the fun of it. Just for adventure.

We must be crazy.

Hell, weren’t we always?

It started with Finley and her new, portable video camera.

It started at Belmore University in the east wing, second floor of Hadley Hall, one of the campus’s two dormitories for freshman girls. The girls were eighteen, then.

It was the third week of September.

It was a Wednesday night.

Abilene’s roommate, Helen Winters, was hunched at her desk, face low over the pages of a Western Civ textbook. Abilene sat at the window, her back to the hot night, hoping to catch a stray breeze while she struggled to make sense of Othello. With a sigh, she closed the paperback.

‘God, it’s hard to think when you’re baking.’

Helen dropped a yellow hi-lite pen into the gutter of her book. She turned her chair around. She looked forlorn, miserable. And even more unattractive than usual. Her brown hair, cut in a style resembling a football helmet, was greasy and matted against her scalp. Wet ringlets clung to her face. She had speckles of sweat under her eyes. Dribbles streaked her heavy cheeks. In the crease of one nostril was a white-peaked zit that looked ready to erupt. Her lower lip bulged out so far that it cast a shadow over her chin.

Sullen eyes gazing up at Abilene, she said, ‘I hate everything about this place.’

‘It’s probably just the heat.’

‘It’s everything.’

‘Homesick?’

‘That’s a good one.’

‘I sure am. I wish I was there right now. Mill Valley’s great this time of the year. I sure wouldn’t be sweating my butt off.’

‘Do you want to take a shower with me?’

Abilene felt as if her stomach had been pushed off a cliff. She realized her mouth was hanging open. She shut it. Not knowing what to say, she shrugged.