Page 31 of The Killing Game

“What do you mean?”

“Why. Didn’t. You. Help?”

“With what, little bat?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes don’t leave mine.

I take a step back towards the elevator, ready to run. Something inside me is screaming to run. Something doesn’t feel right. This doesn’t feel right.

“I know you grabbed a gun from the safe, Jason. Why didn’t you shoot the killer?”

Jason scoffs at me and takes a step forward. I match his pace with another step back.

“Seriously? You and Sam were both in the way. I wasn’t going to put you in danger like that,” he says, taking another step forward. Again, I take another step back. I point the knife at him. He holds his hands up and stops advancing.

“Bullshit. Sam died, anyways. You and I both know you’re a good shot. You could’ve bought us time, but you didn’t. Why?”

Jason laughs. “Seriously, Ashe. You’re losing it. Put the knife down. We have to leave.” He steps towards me again, now an arm’s length away. I slash the knife at him to create distance and he stumbles back. My steps continue back until my heel hits the door of the elevator.

“Every time something happens, you’re not there. Or you conveniently don’t help,” I say, inching my back along the elevator door to find the edge. I pivot to the side to allow myself space to escape. I will not die because I pinned myself against a wall.

Jason steps forward again, slower than the first time. He says nothing.

“You’re working with him, aren’t you?”

He freezes. Something wicked flashes in his eyes, gone in an instant, and is replaced by concern. He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Ashe. Did you hit your head when you fell?” he asks. A small laugh fills the air.

“Eat shit, Jason. Answer the damned question,” I spit.

He takes another step towards me. “Why would I be working with the killer? What possible advantage does that give me? You guys are my friends. I’m just as gutted as you are that they’re dead. But we will be, too, if we don’t leave!”

His words are raw and unyielding. The loss of our friends wrapping around every sentence. It would be so convincing if his body language didn’t contradict what he said. Tense and ready to pounce, like a predator with their prey. It puts my survival instincts on high alert.

My heart hammers against my chest. It aches at his words. Our friends are dead and the killer is still out here. I didn’t ask to be dropped into this horror – one of us did. We just wanted to relive our youth one more time before adulthood took us our separate ways. Now two of us will never see what the future had to offer.

My thoughts are erratic. None of this makes sense. I can’t trust anyone. Not Jason. Not the police who came and told us we were being dramatic. Not the public who allowed this maniac to remain free year after year, accepting whatever fate he brought. I’m the only one who can save myself…again.

“Ashe,” Jason warns.

“No! Don’t Ashe me. I can’t trust you.”

“Ashe, behind you!” Jason runs at me, shoving the knife out of my hand. It scatters somewhere in the distance. He tackles me to the cold ground. Air leaves my lungs for the second time at the impact. His weight is suffocating on top of me. I claw at his back, trying to grip his shirt to help shove him off. My hands slip each time I grip the fabric, now wet. Something warm drips from the sides of Jason’s torso onto my chest. Pulling my hands back, I hold them in the moonlight to examine. Blood stains my pale skin. In a panic, I kick my legs against the ground, wiggling just enough to squeeze up Jason’s limp body. Once my torso is free, I sit up. An ax is buried into Jason’s back, the blood trickling in all directions from the wound.

Half lucid, Jason looks up at me. “Run,” he whispers before falling unconscious. Behind him lingers the shadow of my past. The ghostly reminder that no one is safe from being hunted.

SIXTEEN

11:00 P.M.

The night blurs around me in slow motion. Sounds ricochet through my skull. The damp, coldness of the night chills me to the bone. My feet stumble to connect with the ground beneath me. Hands dig into the earth to propel me forward towards the cabin. Dirt sticks to every surface covered in my friends’ blood. Earthly smells begin mixing with the coppery tang I will never be able to forget.

The dark presence remains in the distance. Death personified on silent steps, waiting. I rush towards the elevator, flinging the door open with a slam. I frantically smash the up button, willing it to move faster than the gears will allow. I check over my shoulder to track the figure in the distance.

Empty.

The forest is empty.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whimper, pacing around the elevator car in a panic.