Party Games Read online

  Kenny took a few steps toward Brendan, as if challenging him. “And what are you thinking, Brendan?”

  Brendan hesitated. “I’m thinking we need to stick together. We need to stick close together. Keep an eye on everyone.”

  Kenny laughed … a harsh, scornful laugh. “Stick together? That’s the best you can do?”

  “Take it easy, Kenny,” Morgan said. “Picking a fight with Brendan isn’t going to help anyone.”

  “Brendan always was a wimp,” Kenny muttered. “Stick together. That’s the best Fearless Leader can do. Two people are dead. Someone is playing a game with us. Writing those notes. Someone thinks that killing us is … is … funny.”

  Brendan sighed. “Patti and Kerry … They went off on their own,” he said. “I’m only saying it’s safer to stay with the group.”

  “Maybe we could hide in one of the other houses or cabins on the island,” April suggested. “It wouldn’t be so hard to break into a house, right? We could hide till the new boat pilot arrives.”

  “But what if there is no new boat pilot?” Kenny demanded.

  The discussion continued, but I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I covered my ears with my hands. I had a loud buzzing in my head. Tension. Tension and panic.

  I couldn’t stand there one more second. I couldn’t stand there seeing Kerry’s legs stretching out from under the slab. Kerry’s crushed body underneath.

  I started to back away from the others. My head spinning, I reached the house and went inside. I pushed the door closed behind me. The buzzing in my ears faded. So did the voices of my friends.

  Are any of us going to survive?

  Are any of us going to get off this island and back to our homes?

  I tried to force the questions from my mind. But how could I?

  I gazed down the long hall, dark as a tunnel. I couldn’t hear a sound over the low buzzing in my ears. My throat ached again. I felt like I was choking. I had to get water.

  I started down the hall, trying to remember how to get back to the ballroom. My legs felt unsteady as I walked. My knees wouldn’t work. I had to force myself forward.

  I knew Brendan said we should stick together. But my throat was throbbing. I really needed water.

  My footsteps scraped softly in the empty hall. I kept glancing from side to side, expecting someone to jump out at me. My parched throat throbbed.

  I turned a corner, peered into the inky darkness—and stopped.

  A thin rectangle of light escaped the room in front of me. The door was nearly closed. I froze and listened hard. My whole body tingled with fear.

  Someone was in that room.

  I forced myself to the edge of the doorway. Stepping into the beam of light, I pushed the door open a few inches more. Peering inside, I could see tall shelves of books against the wall. This was some kind of library or study.

  I gripped the side of the door. I wanted to slide it open more so that I could see the front of the room. But in my fear, I slipped—and pushed the door all the way open.

  I stumbled into the room—and stared at the woman behind a long table. I had to squint. She stood in a gray mist, as if the room was filled with fog.

  She didn’t look up at the sound of my clumsy entrance. I gazed at her scraggly white hair down to her shoulders. She had tiny black eyes over a long, pointed nose. She wore a gray, high-necked blouse over a long gray skirt. Her face, her skin all matched, the same gray as her clothing.

  She had no color at all. As if I was staring at a black-and-white photo. She kept billowing in and out of focus as I studied her through the mist.

  She stood behind the table, head down, working on something. I focused on the table—and held my hand over my mouth to keep from uttering a cry.

  The table was covered with animal parts. I saw squirrel heads and a pile of squirrel tails. A cat’s head. A stack of gleaming, round eyeballs. Claws. Paws. And a small, black dog’s body without legs.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop myself. I took a step forward on trembling legs. And then another, watching her lowered head, her hand slowly moving back and forth.

  As I drew closer, the fog seemed to lift. And I saw what she was working on so intently.

  One side of her blouse was raised. And I could see a long, narrow opening in her skin under her ribs. She had a black needle in her hand—and she was stitching the opening in her body, sewing the skin together.

  Victoria Fear?

  The ghost of Victoria Fear?

  I didn’t want to believe it. But there she was. I was watching her sew herself together.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But before I could make a move, she raised her gray face, the patchy white hair falling against her drawn cheeks.

  She saw me. Her mouth tilted into a jagged smile. She raised the long needle, the black thread trailing beneath it.

  “Come closer, dear.” Her voice was as dry as wind rattling dead, brown leaves. “Come closer. It won’t hurt for long. I promise.”

  24.

  ANOTHER INTRUDER

  I finally found my voice. A scream burst from my throat. I spun away from her, that long needle and the slender rip in her side lingering in my mind.

  I took off running, out the door, into the hall. My head spinning, the floor tilted up to meet me. Which way? Which way?

  I finally remembered. I turned the corner and, breathing hard, ran full speed toward the back door. I didn’t slow up when I saw the other kids trudge into the house, led by Brendan.

  Brendan stopped short when he saw me barreling toward him. His mouth dropped open. “Rachel? Where were you? What’s wrong?”

  “Victoria Fear!” I cried breathlessly, gasping for breath, straining to get the words out.

  Brendan hugged me. “Whoa. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  The others stared in confusion.

  I took a step back, my heart racing. “Victoria Fear! I saw her!” I cried. “A ghost. A ghost, Brendan. I saw Victoria Fear’s ghost.”

  Brendan shook his head. “Rachel, I’m not getting this. You saw the security video. We have two murderers in the house. Why are you doing this ghost thing?”

  “I … I saw her,” I insisted.

  The others chimed in, everyone talking at once. “Rachel, did you hit your head?”

  “You saw a ghost? Have you totally lost it?”

  “Is she okay? Is she in shock because of Kerry?”

  Brendan stepped forward and tried to pull me into another hug. But I pushed his arms away. The words burst out of me in a torrent. “You’ve got to believe me. I saw her. I saw the animals she was stuffing. And she was sewing … sewing herself up. Brendan, she—”

  He pressed a finger over my mouth. “Show us,” he said. “Rachel, take a deep breath. Then show us. Take us there.”

  I followed his instruction. I took a deep breath, held it in, then let it go. But it didn’t calm me. “She was a ghost, Brendan. I saw her. I’m not crazy.”

  The other kids stared at me, murmuring to themselves. April stepped up to me. “You’re in shock, Rachel. We all are. But we can’t start seeing ghosts. We need to—”

  “Show us,” Brendan repeated. “Show us the room. Where did you see the ghost?”

  “It … it had all these bookshelves,” I stammered. “And she stood behind a long table.”

  “The library on the first floor?” Brendan said. “Okay. Follow me.”

  He took long strides down the hall. I hurried to keep up with him. The others followed, silent now.

  We turned the corner. I saw the room, the door still open, the bright rectangle of light tilting out onto the hall floor.

  “That’s it,” I whispered. “She’s in there.”

  We stopped a few feet from the door, as if bracing ourselves for what we were about to see. Then Brendan and I stepped into the room together. We gazed at the tall bookshelves. Then we both turned to the front of the room.

  I let out a sharp cry.

  “There’s
no one in here,” Brendan said.

  The other kids had crept into the room and stood huddled against the bookshelves on the back wall.

  “No,” I whispered. “I saw her.”

  “No one here,” Brendan said, still staring at the front of the room. At the long table, which was bare. Completely bare. The dark wood gleaming under the ceiling light.

  Brendan turned to me. I couldn’t read his expression. Was he worried about me?

  “I didn’t imagine it,” I said. “She was in here. She had animal parts … A dog’s body. She stood right there.”

  I turned and saw the other kids studying me intently. No one said a word. But I could read their thoughts.

  Rachel has lost it.

  Rachel is seeing ghosts.

  Rachel is crazy.

  “I’m not crazy!” I screamed. And then I turned and bolted toward the door. Without thinking, without even realizing what I was doing, I pushed past April and Geena, shoved them out of my way, and burst out into the hall.

  I had to get away. I had to escape their eyes, their hard expressions, judging me, feeling sorry for me. Poor Rachel, who has lost her mind.

  I ran blindly down the hall, turned, and kept running down another long hall. This one dark except for pale gray light filtering in from a high window at the far end.

  I could hear Brendan calling my name, shouting for me to stop.

  But I kept running.

  Kept running until I saw something. Or someone.

  A blur. Just a blur of color against the gray light. Someone crossed the hall up ahead of me. Someone running fast.

  And I recognized him. Even in the darkness, I recognized him. But it was impossible. It couldn’t be.

  Mac? Mac Garland?

  No. No way.

  Why would Mac be here?

  “Hey—Mac?” I shouted his name. I took off, running again. “Mac? Is that you? I saw you!”

  Did he follow me here?

  Why?

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Mac. But I thought I recognized his straight, dark-blond hair. Recognized the way he stands straight up when he runs. (I once told him he ran like a giraffe.)

  “Mac? I saw you! Mac?” My voice rang off the hallway walls, shrill and high.

  Peering into the darkness, I slowed to a stop. No sign of him. I’d lost him somehow. Did I make a wrong turn? Was he hiding in one of the rooms?

  I bent over and put my hands on my knees. I took a deep breath, then another, trying to get my heart to stop pounding.

  I straightened up, my heart still racing. I gasped when I heard rapid footsteps. Hard thuds. Behind me. Coming fast.

  “Huh?” I whirled around.

  And saw someone running hard, hands outstretched as if to grab me. A man in a black mask.

  25.

  MORE SCREAMS

  I froze with a gasp. I raised my arms in front of me, shielding myself. Too late to run. Too late. I squeezed my hands into tight fists. Could I fight him off?

  “Rachel?” He called to me. And as he hurtled closer, I saw that it wasn’t a masked man, after all. His face had been covered by the deep shadow of the hallway.

  “Brendan!” I shouted. “I … I’m so glad it’s you.”

  He ran up to me, breathing hard. “Rachel, why did you run away? What are you doing here?”

  “I … thought I saw someone,” I stammered. “Someone running really fast, and I thought—”

  “You shouldn’t ever leave the group,” Brendan said. He locked his eyes on mine. “You know you’ll be safer if you stay with everyone.”

  “Oh, Brendan,” I sighed. I threw my arms around him. “I’m so … frightened.” I pressed my face against his cheek.

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. He held me tight and lowered his face to mine. We kissed. A long, sweet kiss. Sweet but desperate. As if we were trying to force away all the horror.

  He ended the kiss and narrowed his eyes at me. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. I could see there was something he wanted to say. Finally, he whispered, “You’ll be safe, Rachel. You’ll be safe from them.”

  I blinked. “How do you know?”

  He didn’t answer. He leaned forward and kissed me again. I shut my eyes. I really did want the rest of the world to go away.

  But we both pulled back when we heard the screams. Hoarse cries of horror, echoing down the hall.

  A chill shook my body. I was still holding onto Brendan. I didn’t want to let go.

  But another outburst of screams made us pull apart. We both turned toward the sound.

  “Please … not again,” I whispered. “Not another murder.”

  26.

  THE NEXT VICTIM

  We followed the screams to a den near the front of the house. The room was in water colors, all blues and greens. Two green leather couches faced a big widescreen TV on one wall.

  In the far corner, a small round table had been knocked on its side. In its place stood a low wooden ladder. Brendan and I pushed through the screaming, crying kids to get a better look.

  “Nooooooo!” I slapped my hands to the sides of my face. My stomach churned. I struggled to keep my lunch down.

  “Eric! Not Eric!” I wailed.

  But yes. Eric Finn was draped upside down over the ladder. His head was bright purple, down near the floor. His arms drooped limply at his sides. His shoes were jammed between the two top rungs.

  “The note! There’s a note!” I cried.

  Brendan stood frozen in horror. I grabbed the note off the bottom ladder rung and read it:

  “Chutes and Ladders Isn’t Always a Baby Game.”

  I let out a shuddering cry. The sheet of paper fell from my hand and fluttered to the floor beside the ladder. Backing away, I thought I saw Eric’s fingers twitch. “Is he still alive?” The words burst from my throat in a voice I didn’t recognize. Brendan lurched forward and grabbed Eric’s hand. He squeezed it. He shook his head. “Ice cold. But he hasn’t been dead that long—has he?”

  The room erupted in frightened voices and soft sobs.

  Eric dead, too.

  And who would be next?

  I turned my gaze to the blue-green wallpaper. I couldn’t bear to look at Eric hanging there upside down, his blond hair tumbling over his face. I couldn’t believe I’d never hear his voice again. Never hear him make another joke.

  Again, I was desperate to escape. I backed out of the room. I still had my hands pressed to my cheeks. My stomach churned like a washing machine in spin cycle.

  Brendan was gently lifting Eric’s body off the ladder. Huddled in small groups of two and three, everyone watched. No one moved to help him.

  I backed to the door, my shoes scraping the soft carpet. I lowered my hands to my sides. I balled them into tight fists.

  This can’t be happening.

  I stepped into the hall, backed away from the door, away from the horror—and someone grabbed me from behind.

  Strong hands gripped my shoulders and pulled me into the hall.

  I started to scream. But a hand slid roughly over my mouth. The palm pressed hard over my lips, silencing me.

  I ducked and squirmed and tried to twist away. And as I fought, I realized: It’s me. I’m the next victim.

  27.

  THE FINAL CURTAIN

  Struggling to free myself, I ducked my head and jerked my body forward with all my strength. The hands slid off me, and I stumbled into the wall.

  Gasping for breath, I spun around. And stared at Mac Garland.

  “Mac! What are you doing here?” I choked out.

  He was breathing hard, too. His dark-blond hair fell over his forehead. He narrowed his metal-gray eyes at me.

  “Mac—you hurt me,” I cried. “Why are you here?” And then the words poured out like a gushing waterfall. “I saw you running. I knew it was you. What’s going on? Tell me!”

  He glanced up and down the long hall. “I’ll explain later,” he said in a breathless whisp
er. “Hurry.”

  “Hurry?” I cried. “What do you mean? What do you want, Mac? Answer my questions? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

  “Later,” he repeated. He reached for me again, but I backed away. “Come with me, Rachel. I told you. I told you things were going down.”

  “The murders? You knew about them last week?”

  He didn’t answer. He pushed the hair off his forehead with one hand. Then he burst forward and grabbed my hand. He tugged hard. “Let’s go.”

  “No! Let go of me!” I cried. “Let go! The murders, Mac. You knew about them?”

  He scowled at me. He’s a good-looking guy, but he’s ugly when he’s angry. “Shut up,” he snapped, glancing up and down the hall again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Somebody—help me!” I tried to scream to the kids back in the den, but the words came out in a choked whisper.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he rasped. “Shut up and come with me. Now. I have a canoe, Rachel. I can get you out of here.”

  I spun free and took several steps back. “I … I’m not going anywhere with you. Answer my questions. What do you know about the murders?”

  “We’ve got to hurry, Rachel. I’ll explain later. There’s no time.”

  His chest was heaving up and down. He took rapid, wheezing breaths. I’d seen him angry before, but I’d never seen him this desperate.

  “I’m not going with you,” I said. I gritted my teeth and tensed my whole body, preparing to make a run for it. Mac stood in the middle of the hall. I’d have to fake him out somehow to get past him.

  Brendan and the others were still in the den down the hall. I knew I was just a few yards from safety.

  “I’m warning you,” Mac said, his eye twitching. His face was red, in a rage. “I’m warning you. I know what’s going down. Rachel—I’ll get you out of here. But you’ve got to go now. Come on!”

  I stared at him, thinking hard, frantically trying to plan a strategy.

  If I dart to the left, maybe I can get him to move left. Then I’ll throw him off-balance by running to the right.