Richard Laymon - Blood Games

‘Ya okay?’ It was Jim.

‘Yeah.’ She sniffed. ‘Guess so.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us it was Batty?’ Cora called down.

‘Didn’t know. It was awful mighty dark, just couldn’t see who it was. Thought it was Hank, though. Till he talked.’

Abilene pointed her light down. Batty was still sprawled at Jim’s feet, but blood no longer flew from the wound. Jim was looking up, frowning. His belly was smeared with blood where Batty’s head had bumped him.

‘It’s just as well ya got him,’ Jim said. ‘He weren’t up to no good.’

‘He didn’t even have a weapon,’ Abilene muttered.

‘Batty don’t need ’em. Had his magic bone. I seen how he works. He only just gets naked when he’s fixin’ to work his meanest spells. He meant to kill ya all. That’s how come he had the blood on him. That’s his bat blood, ’n he don’t use it less he’s aimin’ to do a murder hex.’

‘See?’ Finley said. ‘I saved us from a whammy.’

‘Yeah,’ Cora said. ‘And we still have Hank coming after us, and a deaf man could’ve heard that gunshot a mile away. If he’s already here, he knows right where to find us.’

Abilene and Vivian both started probing the darkness with their flashlights. They checked the length of the balcony, the staircase, the foyer. The support posts cast shifting shadows against the wall and floor, and the windows that weren’t broken gleamed bright reflections as the lights swept back and forth.

‘Shine it over here,’ Finley said.

Abilene turned the flashlight toward her and watched Finley break open the shotgun, pluck out the spent shell, replace it with one from her pocket, and snap the breech shut.

‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘Now, kill the lights.’

Two switches snicked. Darkness clamped down.

‘What’re we gonna do now?’ Abilene whispered.

‘Wait for Hank,’ Cora answered, her voice low.

‘Get him the way I got Batty,’ Finley said.

‘But he knows we’re here,’ Vivian protested.

‘Maybe,’ Cora said. ‘Maybe not.’

‘Ya oughta move Batty outa the way,’ came Jim’s voice from below. ‘Hank ain’t gonna come walkin’ right up to me, long as the body’s here.’

‘He won’t be able to see it,’ Cora said.

‘He’ll see it. He can see like a cat.’

‘Jim’s got a point,’ Finley said. ‘If Hank does spot the body, he’ll know something’s up. All we’ve gotta do is drag it off. Maybe hide it behind the registration desk.’

‘We’d… have to touch him,’ Vivian whispered.

‘Doesn’t bother me. Look, I’ll go on down and take care of it.’

‘Not alone,’ Cora said.

‘I’ll go with you,’ Abilene offered. Though she hated the idea. She wanted to stay right here on the balcony, out of reach from below. And she sure didn’t want to help drag Batty’s body anywhere.

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Finley said. ‘I’ll do it on my own. Just give me your flashlight so I don’t trip and fall down the stairs or something. You keep me covered from up here. ’ She held out the shotgun. Abilene took it with one hand and passed her the flashlight.

‘I don’t like this,’ Vivian said.

‘Neither do I,’ Cora added.

‘Hey, what can happen?’

‘Hank could jump you, that’s what,’ Abilene told her.

‘If he does, shoot him. Just don’t hit me.’

‘There might not be a clear shot,’ Cora warned.

‘I’ve always got this.’ Finley lifted the hanging front of her shirt and pulled the knife from her waistband.

‘A lot of good that’ll do you,’ Abilene said.

‘Shit. I don’t think Hank’s down there, anyway. For all we know, he might not show up for hours.’

‘Maybe he won’t even come,’ Vivian whispered.

‘He’s gonna come, all right,’ Jim said. ‘Ain’t here yet, though, pretty sure a that.’

‘Okay,’ Cora said. ‘Go on and do it. But make it quick.’

‘And be careful,’ Abilene told her.

Finley turned on the flashlight and made her way past the others. Vivian lit her back as she jogged along the balcony, then swept her beam down the stairway before Finley got there.

As Finley started trotting down the stairs, Abilene lifted the shotgun to her shoulder. Her left hand swung the barrels up. She crouched slightly, and braced her elbow on the railing. Head up, she watched Finley bound off the bottom stair and take a few steps and halt.

Knife in one hand, flashlight in the other, Finley turned all the way around once, apparently to make sure nobody was creeping up on her from the corridor or the open room beyond the stairs. Then she walked slowly through the middle of the lobby, head swiveling, her light joining Vivian’s in skittery sweeps of the area surrounding her.

She is being careful, Abilene thought.

But why doesn’t she hurry?

She won’t be safe till she’s back up here with the rest of us. Gazing over the shotgun barrels, Abilene glanced from post to post, half certain that Hank would leap out from behind one. Her forefinger stroked the front trigger. She brushed her thumb across the upper hammer, tempted to pull it back but resisting the urge.

Don’t want to flinch and shoot Finley.

Halting beside Batty, Finley moved her light up and down the body. Then she shone it on Jim. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Okay, I guess.’ A moment later, he looked down at his stained belly and said, ‘I don’t much like the blood on me. Makes me itchy.’

‘I’ll be back,’ Finley told him. She turned off her flashlight and stuffed it into the rear pocket of her shorts. She threw her knife down. It stuck in Batty a couple of inches below his navel.

‘Jesus H. Christ,’ Abilene muttered.

Finley smirked up at her. ‘Want to keep it in easy reach.’

‘That’s sick,’ Vivian said.

‘Hey, I don’t hear Batty complaining.’ With that, she stepped over to his feet, crouched and grabbed his ankles. She straightened up, raising them. Ankles clutched against her hips, she walked sideways. The body turned, then began to slide as she staggered backward, dragging it.

Abilene glimpsed the smears left on the floor.

Batty’s arms trailed behind as if raised overhead in surrender. His breasts wobbled. Then darkness masked him as Vivian’s light went away to illuminate the area beyond Finley.

Abilene was glad she couldn’t see him now.

He was here to get us, she reminded herself. But that didn’t help the heavy sickness she felt.

He wouldn’t have wanted to get us if we hadn’t gone to his place and robbed him and killed his cat and hurt him.

We did this to him.

But maybe he was evil and maybe we did the right thing, killing him.

I didn’t kill him , she told herself. It was Finley’s doing .

Finley knew it was him, but she shot him anyway.

Maybe we’re lucky she did.

But it’s all so horrible. And disgusting. And maybe we’ll end up paying for it.

Maybe Hank’s the one meant to collect.

With the thought of Hank, Abilene’s guilt and revulsion were submerged by fear. She swung her shotgun toward Finley, who might have been a character from one of those plays Vivian had taken them to in New York — a girl struggling to drag a body across the stage, illuminated by a single spotlight.

In front of the registration desk, Finley straightened up and let go of Batty’s feet. The legs dropped. Twin thuds as the heels struck the floor.

Finley stood over the body, panting for breath. ‘This is… far as he goes.’

‘That’s fine,’ Cora said. ‘Get back up here.’

‘In a minute.’ She lifted the front of her shirt and wiped her face. Then she bent over the body. She pulled out her knife and wiped its blade on a leg of her shorts. ‘Don’t go anywhere, Batshit.’