ALSOBYGRADYHENDRIX
Horrorst?r
MyBestFriend’sExorcism
PaperbacksfromHell
WeSoldOurSouls
TheSouthernBookClub’sGuidetoSlayingVampires
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Copyright?2021byGradyHendrix
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataNames:Hendrix,Grady,author
Title:Thefinalgirlsupportgroup/GradyHendrix.
Description:NewYork:Berkley,[2021]
Identifiers:LCCN2021002704(print)|LCCN2021002705(ebook)|ISBN9780593201237
(hardcover)|ISBN9780593201251(ebook)
Classification:LCCPS3608.E543F562021(print)|LCCPS3608.E543(ebook)|DDC813/.6—
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LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2021002704
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InternationaleditionISBN:9780593437049
CoverartanddesignbyDavidLitman
BookdesignbyLauraK.Corless,adaptedforebookbyCoraWigenInteriorartcredits:Bloodyhandprint?Ultrashock/shutterstock.com;Manilafilefolder?AmbientIdeas/shutterstock.com;Pepperplant?DannySmythe/shutterstock.com;Agingwornpaper?
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shutterstock.com;Windowsillurbanbackground?aapsky/shutterstock.comThisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_5.7.1_c0_r0Amanda,
Trueloveisputtingsomeoneelse,
Beforeyourself.
WhichiswhyIthought,
Youshouldwalkacrossthatice,
Beforeme.CONTENTS
Cover
AlsobyGradyHendrix
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup3-D
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIV:ReturnoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup’sNewNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVI:TheNextGeneration
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVII:SonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVIII:NightoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIX:FinalGirlvs.FinalGirl
TFGSGX
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXI:BetterWatchOut!
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXII:Hellbound
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIII:TheFinalSacrifice
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIV:TheNewBlood
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXV:DreamWarriors
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVI:SeasonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVII:BrideoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVIII:CurseoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIX:FinalGirl’sRevenge
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXX:TheFinalChapter
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXI:TheFinalChapterII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXII:TheFinalNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIII:Resurrection
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIV:ANewBeginning
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthorfinalgirl(n.)—thelastandsolesurvivorofahorrormovie
—Dr.CarolElliott,privatenotesongroupsession,September2010THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUP
Iwakeup,getoutofbed,saygoodmorningtomyplant,unwrapaproteinbar,anddrinkaliterofbottledwater.I’mawakeforfivefullminutesbeforerememberingImightdietoday.Whenyougetold,yougetsoft.
InthelivingroomIstretchanddofortykneestrikes,fortypalmheelstrikes,andsidemountainclimbersuntilsweatdripsontotheconcretefloor.
Idoelbowstrikesuntilmyshouldersburn,thenIgetonthetreadmill,putthespeeduptoseven,andrununtilmythighsareonfireandmychestrasps,andthenIrunforfivemoreminutes.Ihavetopunishmyselfforforgettingexactlywhatthestakesare,especiallytoday.
ThebathroomdoorgetspadlockedfromtheinsidewhileIshower.Imakeupmybedtoeliminatethetemptationtocrawlbackin.Imaketea,andit’snotuntiltheelectrickettleclicksthatIhavemyfirstpanicattackoftheday.
It’snotabadone,justacrampinmychestthatfeelslikeagianthandsqueezingmylungsshut.Iclosemyeyesandconcentrateonrelaxingthemusclesliningmythroat,ontakingdeepbreaths,onpullingoxygenintothebottomofmylungs.AftertwoandahalfminutesIcanbreathenormallyagainandIopenmyeyes.
Thisapartmentistheonlyplaceintheworldwherethat’spossible.Abedroom,alivingroom,akitchen,andabathroomwhere,aslongasItakereasonableprecautions,Icanclosemyeyesfortwominutes.Outthereintheworldit’sanonstopmurderparty,andifImaketheslightestmistakeI’llwindupdead.
IgointothelivingroomandturnonCNNtoseewhatthebodycountistoday,andfromtheveryfirstimageIknowthatthenexttwenty-fourhours
willbebad.
AlivedroneshotofasummercampisburiedbeneathalltheotherjunkCNNputsonscreen.Itshowssedansandemergencyvehiclesclusteredoutsidethecabins,meninwhitehazmatsuitswalkingbetweenthetrees,yellowpolicetapeblockingtheroad.Theycuttorecordedfootageofthenightbefore,bluelightsflashinginthedark,andthesluglinehitsmeinthegut:RealLifeRedLakeTragedyRepeats.
IturnonthesoundandthestoryisexactlywhatIfeared.SomeonemurderedsixCampRedLakecounselorswhowereshuttingtheplacedownfortheseason.Theyusedavarietyofweapons—handscythe,powerdrill,bowandarrows,machete—andwouldhavehadaseventhvictimexceptthelastone,asixteen-year-oldgirltheCNNchyrontellsmeisnamedStephanieFugate,shovedthemoutofthehayloft
Thekillerhasn’tbeenidentifiedyet,butthere’sStephanieonscreeninaclassphotowithherroundfaceandclearskin,smilingthroughherbraceswithagrinthatbreaksmyheart.Afterlastnight,she’llneverbethathappyagain.She’safinalgirlnow.
You’rewatchingahorrormovieandthesilentkillerknocksoffthestoner,theslut,thegeek,thejock,andthedeputy,andnowhe’schasingthevirginbabysitterthroughthewoods.She’stheonewhosaidtheyshouldn’tpartyatthisdesertedsummercamp,breakintothisabandonedlunaticasylum,skinny-dipinthisisolatedlake—especiallysinceit’sHalloween,orThanksgiving,orArborDay,orwhatevertheanniversaryisofthoseunsolvedmurdersfromwayback.Thekiller’sgotachainsaw/boathook/butcher’sknifeandthisgirl’sgotzip:noupperbodystrength,nomass,noshotgun.Allshe’sgotisgoodcardioandanall-Americanface.
Yetsomehowshekillsthekiller,thenstaresnumblyoffintothemiddledistance,orcollapsesintothearmsofthearrivingpolice,orrunscryingtoherboyfriend,makesonelastquip,lightsonelastcigarette,asksafinalhauntingquestion,getstakenoffinanambulancescreamingandscreaminglikeshe’snevergoingtostop.
Everwonderwhathappenstothosefinalgirls?Afterthecopseliminatethemassuspects,afterthepressreleasestheirbrace-faced,pizza-cheeked,
bad-hair-dayclassphotosthatinevitablygetincludedonthecoverofthetruecrimebook?Afterthecandlelightvigilsandthemomentsofsilence,aftersomeoneplantsthememorialshrub?
Iknowwhathappenstothosegirls.Afterthemoviedealsgetsigned,afterthefilmfranchisefails,afteryourealizethatwhileeveryoneelsewasfillingoutcollegeapplicationsyouwerelockedinaresidentialtreatmentprogrampretendingyouweren’tscaredofthedark.Afterthetalkshowcircuit,afteryourthirdtherapistjustacceptsthathe’syourZoloft-dispensingmachineandyouwon’tbemakinganybreakthroughsonhiswatch,afteryourealizethattheonlyinterestingthingthat’lleverhappentoyouhappenedwhenyouweresixteen,afteryoustopgoingoutside,afteryoustartbrowsinglocksmithsthewayotherwomenbrowsethewindowsofTiffany’s,afteryou’velefttownbecauseyoucouldn’tdealwiththe“Whynotyou?”looksfromtheparentsofallyourdeadfriends,afteryou’velosteverything,beenthroughthefire,startedknowingyourstalkersbytheirfirstnames,afterallthathappensyouwindupwhereI’mgoingtoday:inachurchbasementinBurbank,seatedwithyourbacktothewall,tryingtoholdthepiecesofyourlifetogether.
We’reanendangeredspecies,forwhichI’mgrateful.Thereareonlysixofusstillaround.Itusedtomakemesadthereweren’tmoreofusoutthere,butwewerecreaturesoftheeightiesandtheworldhasmovedon.Theyusedtodustofftheclippackagesforouranniversariesortheoccasionalfranchisereboot,butthesedaysit’salloilspillsandWikileaks,theTeaPartyandtheTaliban.Thesixofusbelongtoanotherera.We’remediainvisible.Wemightaswellnotevenexist.
AsIturnoffCNNIrealizeImiscounted.Thereareactuallysevenofus;Ijustdon’tliketothinkaboutChrissy.Noonedoes.Evenmentioninghernamecanmesswithyourheadbecauseshe’satraitor.SoItakeaminute,eventhoughIonlyhavethreehourstogettogroup,andItakeadeepbreathandtrytogetmyfocusback.
Adrienne’sgoingtobeamess.CampRedLakewaswhereithappenedtoher,butsheboughttheplacelaterandturneditintoaretreatforvictimsofviolence,mostlysurvivorsofschoolshootingsandkidswhogotaway
fromtheirkidnappers.Thishitsherwhereshelives.Atleastit’llgiveussomethingnewtotalkaboutbesideswhateveroldbusinesswe’restillarguingovertoday.
WhenIcan’tputitoffanylonger,Igetreadytoheadout.GroupistheonlytimeIleavethisapartmentexcepttogotothemailboxplaceacrossthestreetonceaweek,tocheckmyescaperoutesonceamonth,andmybiweeklytripstothecornerstoreforsupplies.Idon’tlikerisk.Myhairisshortbecauselonghaircangetgrabbed.IwearrunningshoesincaseIhavetomove.Idon’twearlooseclothing.
Iinventorymypockets:keys,money,phone,weapons.Istoppedcarryingafirearmonpublictransportafteranincidentacoupleofyearsback,butIhavepepperspray,aboxcutterinmyrightfrontpocket,andarazorbladetapedtomyleftankle.Idon’twearheadphones,Idon’twearsunglasses,Imakesuremyjacketistightsothere’snothingtosnag,andthenIsaygood-byetomyplant,takeadeepbreath,stepoutofmyapartment,andfaceaworldthatwantsmedead
—Dr.CarolElliott,privatenotesongroupsession,September2010THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPII
Acottonballsheepsays,JesusLovesEwe!
Atrioofveryskinnyghostsrisingfromthegraveproclaim,Ghostsarescary…butnottheHolyGhost!
HeisRisen!shoutsamulticoloredtangleofMagicMarkerscribbles.
Thatonegivesmepause.Allofusingrouphaveacomplicatedrelationshipwiththeideaofresurrection.
Weshouldbesittinginacircle,butthefiveofussitinaraggedC
becausenoneofuswilleverputherbacktoadooragain.Danihasherarmscrossed,legsspread,sittingcowboystoicinfrontofawalloforange-and-blackconstructionpaperjack-o’-lanternsandhissingcats.She’sthelastpersononearthwhoneedsareminderthatHalloweeniscoming.
Marilynhasherlegscrossed,Starbucksinonehand,newpurseinherlapbecauseshewon’tletittouchthefloor.ShetoldJuliaitcost$1,135,butIdon’tbelieveher.Youcan’tchargethatmuchforafauxpurse,andMarilynwouldneverletleathertouchherskin.
“It’shardformetofocusifIhaven’teaten,”Heatherissayinginhernever-ending,I-haven’t-slept-since-1988monologue,leaningforward,handsflappingaround.“Becauseofmylowbloodsugar.”
Apparently,today’sargumentwillbeaboutsnacks.
Juliasitsinherwheelchair,clearlybored,drummingherfingersonherwheels,wearinganironicWorld’sGreatestDadT-shirt,staringatalarge,wrinkleddrawingofaflyingmanwithhisarmsheldstraightoutathissidesthatreads,“Jeshusissaddeadalive.”
IusedtothinkitwasweirdthatwemetsurroundedbySundayschoolart,butnowit’sbecomethefirstthingIlookateverymonthafterchecking
mysightlinesandmyexits.Notbecausetheartisticself-expressionofabunchofpotentialmurdervictimsinterestsmeintheslightest.I’mlookingforwarningsigns:picturesofexplodinggunsandbloodyknives,boysdrawingthemselvesasnecklessmonsterswithtrianglefangstearingtheirparentsinhalf.I’mlookingforsignsthatoneofthesekidswillgrowuptobemyenemy,tobeanotheroneofthemonstersthattriedtokillusall.
“Ifyouatebeforegroup,”Dr.Carolsuggests,“maybethatwouldhelp?”
Dr.Carol,theonlyoneintheroomwhocanbringherselftoputherbacktothedoor,sitsinthemouthoftheC,likeshehasforthepastsixteenyears,postureperfect,penpoised,notepadrestingononeknee,treatingHeather’ssnackobsessionwiththesamecareandconcernsheappliestoeverythingwesay.
“That’soffmyschedule,”Heathersays.“Asarecoveringaddict,maintainingascheduleisimportanttomysobrietyandIhavetoleavethehomeearlybecause,youknow,thecopstookmylicenseandIhaven’tgottenitbackyet,soittakesmelongertogetherebecauseIthinkit’simportantnottobelate.Adriennedoesn’thavethatsamelevelofconsideration,apparently.”
“I’msureAdriennehasagoodreasonforwhyshe’srunningbehind,”
Dr.Carolsays.
“I’llbesurprisedifAdrienneshowsupatall,”Juliasays.ClearlyshesawCNN,too.“Hasanyonetalkedtoher?Itriedtocallbutitwenttovoicemail.”
“Iimagineshe’sturnedherphoneoff,”Marilynsays,thenmakesafacelikeshesmellsshit.“Thepress.”
Marilynrefusedtodoanypressconferencesorgiveanyoneanexclusiveafterhercrisis,arousingthewrathofeveryreporterinAmerica,andthenshemarriedintoamega-richpoliticallyactiveRepublicanfamily,soshe’sgottenittheworstovertheyears,butweallknowthefeeling.Thephonethatneverstopsringinguntilyoufinallypullitoutofthewall;thereporteryou’veneverseenwhocallsyoubyyourfirstnameandpretendstohavegonetohighschoolwithyousoconvincinglyyoustarttobelieve
them;adistantcousinshowingupatthehospital,allfullofconcern,withataperecorderspinninginsideherbagnexttoacheckfromtheNationalEnquirer
“Idon’tthinkit’sappropriatetodiscussAdrienne’ssituationwithanyonebutAdrienne,”Dr.Carolsays.“I’msurewe’lltalkaboutitwhenshegetshere.Inthemeantime:HowdopeoplefeelaboutHeather’sconcerns?”
There’sanawkwardmomentasweallwaittoseeifanyone’sgoingtotakethebait,butnoonedoes.We’refinalgirls.We’regoodatescapingtraps.
“I’mjustsaying,”Heathersays,fillingtheawkwardsilence.“Ihavecertainneeds,andsinceIdon’thavetheadvantagesallofyoudo,thenIwouldreallylikeustohavesomecoffee,somecookies,something,becausethisbigbareroomisdepressing.”
She’sreallynotgoingtoletthisgo,butthatdoesn’tsurpriseme.We’rethewomenwhokeptfightingbacknomatterhowmuchithurt,whojumpedoutthatthird-storywindow,whodraggedourselvesupontothatroofwhenourbodieswerescreamingforustorolloveranddie.Oncewestartsomething,it’shardforustostop.
“Idon’tmindwhatHeatherbrings,”Marilynsays,herbraceletsdancingasshewavesherStarbuckscupwithitsdarkredlipstickprintonthelid.“Bringapizza.Butcanwepleasechangethetopic?”
“That’sinteresting,”Dr.Carolsays,althoughshe’stheonlyonewhothinksso.“DoesanyoneelsefeelthewayMarilyndoes?”
Whenyou’vebeeninaroomwiththesamesixpeopleforsixteenyears,youknowwhatthey’regoingtodobeforeithappens.Likeachemicalreaction,ifcertainconditionsaremet,certainoutcomeswilltakeplace.Rightoncue,herecomesJulia.
“Ithinkpeopleeatinganddrinkingingroupisaformofdeflection,”
Juliasays,becauseshecan’tpassupachancetoarguewithMarilyn.
“Marilyn’sChaiSoyBigGulpisapropthatshowsusshe’sdistancingherselffromgroup.”
“Ideclare,”Marilynfake-marvelsinherflatTexasaccent.“Howdoyoucomeupwiththesethings?”
“Twosessionsagoyoucomplainedweweretrappedinthepast,”Juliasays.
Marilynlooksateachofus.
“Well,doesanyonethinkthisisasnecessaryasitusedtobe?”sheasks.
“Thewaywesnipeandpeck,Ifeellikewecouldalluseavacation.Isn’tthepointoftherapythatonedayyoudon’tneeditanymore?”
IfeelmylungscrampandIcountbreaths—sevenin,sevenout,keepitslow,keepitsteady.Shedoesn’tmeanthat.Groupisthecenterforallofus,evenDr.Carol.Herself-helpempireisbuiltontheworkshedidwithusbackinthenineties,butthereasonwe’reinthischurchbasementandnotoneofherswank,camera-readyclinicsisthatthisisoursharedsecret,ouronesafeplacefreefromthestalkersandthesuperfans,thereportersandtheprofilewriters.HowcanMarilyntalksocasuallyaboutgivingitup?
“Someofuscan’taffordavacation,”Juliaslingsback.“Noteveryonemarriedformoney.”
“Blessyourheart,”Marilynsays.“Isn’tthatexactlywhatyourexdid?”
That’slow,evenforMarilyn.Juliawasstilllearninghowtolivewithherwheelchairwhenshemarriedherphysiotherapist.Iunderstandtheurgealltoowell.Someonecomesalongsayingthey’llsaveyouandyouthrowyourselfintotheirarmsandletthemmakeallthedecisions.Youcanonlyhopethatbythetimeyoucometoyoursensestheyhaven’tdonetoomuchdamage.InJulia’scase,bythetimeshewokeuphe’dsoldherfranchiserights,cleanedoutherbankaccounts,andleftherwithnothing.
“Isthishowgroup’sgoingtobetoday?”Juliaappealstous.“Slinginginsults?Pickingatoldwounds?There’snoreasonweshouldactthispetty.
We’repowerful,strongwomen.Dani’sresourcefulandself-sufficient,Marilyn’sgotmoremoneythanallofusputtogether,Adrienne’spracticallyaNobelPeacePrizecandidate…”
“Whatawardareyouaccepting,MerylStreep?”Heatherasks.
“BecauseIamgoingtosufferaseriousrelapseifyoustartrecitingyourbioagain.”
“Iwasn’tgoingtosayanythingaboutmyself,”Juliasays,wounded.
“Youwerebuildingtoit,”Heathersays.
“Thinkwhatyouwant,”Juliasays,crossingherarms,leaningbackinherwheelchair.
Heatherthrowsherselfforwardsoherchestisonherknees,onehandraisedlikeshe’sswearingonaBible.
“Iwillpayyoutwentydollarsifyoucanlookmeintheeyeandswearthatyouwerenotabouttostartlistingyourdegrees.”
“ThisiswhatI’mtalkingabout,”Juliasays,appealingtoDr.Carol.
“Insteadofusingourenergyproductively,weundermineeachother.Grouphasgottenhijackedbypersonalconflict.It’scounterproductive.”
“Twentydollars,”Heatherrepeats.
“Youdon’thavetwentydollarstobet,”Juliareplies.
“I’llborrowitfromMarilyn,”Heathersays.
“?‘Borrow’isn’tthewordI’duseforwhatyoudo,”Marilynsays.
“Don’tyoudismissme!”Heatherexplodes.“I’vehandledcrapyoucan’tevendreamabout!I’vedealtwithsomehigher-levelastralbullshitthatwouldmakeyoudropaloginyoursatinpanties.”
“Coolit,”JuliasaystoHeather.
“Idon’tneedyou,ofallpeople,defendingme,”MarilyntellsJulia.
“Yeah,Julia,”Heathersays.
“Youwatchyourstep,”MarilyntellsHeather.
“Okay,let’sstepbackandassess,”Dr.Carolinterrupts.Iwonderifsheprescribesherselfsomethingtotaketheedgeoffthesesessions.Atleastnoone’stalkingaboutsnacksanymore.“DidanyoneelsenoticehowquicklytheconversationbetweenMarilynandHeatheraboutsnacksturnedpersonal?Doesanyonehaveanythoughtsaboutwhythathappened?”
IfAdriennewereherewe’dactuallybegettingalong.Whenshe’sintheroom,weallfeellikewehavetoliveuptoourreputations.
“Itwasajoke,”Heathermumbles.
“StopbeingdramaticandbuyyourselfaStarbucksbeforeyoucome,”
Marilynsays.“Caffeineisanappetitesuppressant.”
“Someofuscan’taffordrich-peoplecoffee,”Heathersays.“AAalwayshasfreecoffeeandcookies.Whydon’tyoubuymeaStarbuckscard?Youoweme,anyway.”
“Ladies—”Dr.Carolbegins.
“What,exactly,doIoweyou?”Marilynasks.
“YouscrewedmeonthatAll-StarsofHorrordeal,”Heathersays.“Ihadeverythingsetupandyoucameinandwreckedit.How’mIevergoingtopayyoubackifyoukeepscrewingupmybusinessdeals?”
“Who’reyoukidding?”Marilynasks,rollinghereyes.“Webothknowyou’renevergoingtopaymeback.”
Heathergoesballistic,andItuneherout.Wealldo.We’veheardeverysingleoneofhermonologuesbefore.HowdareMarilynslightherhonor?
Howcanshepossiblysuggestthatthesolemnwordofajunkiewhohassmoked,snorted,andshotupeverychemicalontheplanetisnotlegallybinding?HowdareMarilynimplythatHeather’swordisnottheverbalequivalentofanironcladcontractdrawnupbyateamoflawyers?
Heather’salwaysonthehustle.Shedoesn’tbothermeandJuliabecausesheknowswedon’thaveanymoney,andshe’sgivenuponDanibecausethereisnowaytomakeDanidoanythingDanidoesn’twanttodo,butshe’sconstantlycomingatAdrienneandMarilynwithprojects,licensingdeals,collaborations,appearanceopportunities.Thebottom-feedersofthisworldlongagolearnedthatHeatherisourweakestlink.
“Iknowthatmoneyisastressorforseveralofyou,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Canyouhelpmedrilldownonthis,Marilyn?Orwhataboutyou,Lynnette?”
“Um,”Isay,caughtoffguard.“Adrienne’stwenty-sixminuteslate.”
“Howisthatmakingyoufeel?”Dr.Carolasks.
“Anxious?”Itry.
“Look,”Juliasays.“Whyarewetalkingaboutmoney?Marilynthinksgroupdoesn’tserveapurposeanymore,andwhenwespendhalfthesessiondeflectingoversnacksIcan’tdisagree.What’swrongwithus?Whendidwegetsopetty?”
“Ijustwant,”Heathersays,takingadeepbreath,“someonetobringcoffeeandcookies.Period.”
Dr.CarolispreparingtoaddresstheGreatSnackCrisisof2010whenDaniinterrupts.She’susuallycowboy-silent,sowhenevershetalkswelisten.
“Ihavesomethingtosay,”Danisays.“Thenyoucangobacktosnacks.”
“Ornot,”Juliasays.
“Thisismylastsession,”Danisays.“I’mterminating.”
There’salong,horriblepause.
Daniisoneoftheoriginalfinalgirls,alongwithAdrienneandMarilyn.
Losingherwouldchangethegroup,andthegrouphasn’tchangedinforever.WedidClinton’simpeachmentand9/11together.WewerehereforeachotherafterColumbineandVirginiaTech.WhengaymarriagegotlegalizedinMassachusettsweallchippedinandboughtanicelittleBerettaNanoforDani,andevenhaditengravedwithherandMichelle’snames.
WhentheyrebootedMarilyn’sfranchiseandshewentintohiding,shestillflewintoL.A.onceamonthtocometogroup.
ButoverthelastcoupleofyearsDr.Carolhasstartedendingafewminutesearly,Marilynhasstartedhavinglesspatienceforpeople,Juliahasbecomepushieraboutherpolitics,andIgetthefeelingthatifitwasn’tforHeathersomeofuswouldhaveterminatedalongtimeago.Butthere’salwaysbeenanunspokenagreementthatwehavetokeepcoming,nomatterwhat,becausethisistheonlyconsistent,dependablethinginHeather’slife.
Surprisingly,it’snotHeatherwhotakesitthehardest.
“IknewitwasasignwhenAdriennewaslate,”Isay,andthenIcovermyfacetogetsomekindofprivacybecauseIcan’tgotothebathroomalone.
“OhmyGod,”Heathersays.“She’stotallycrying.”
“I’mjustsurprised,”Isay,wipingmyshirtsleeveacrossmyeyes.
“Thesearetearsofsurprise.”
“I’msorry,”Danisayssoftlytome.
Ishrug,butIwanttoscream.Iwanttoscream,You’veruinedit!You’veruinedeverythingforeverybody!Marilyn’sphonestartsbuzzingdeepinsideherpurse.Weusedtohaveastrict“phonesoff”policy,butthat’sanotherthingwe’veletslideoverthelastfewyears.
“It’sfine,”Isay.“It’sfine.Let’schangethesubject.”
Marilyn’sphonekeepsbuzzingandIwanttoyell,Answeryourphone!
Justansweritbecauseifyoudon’tyou’llbewonderingwhocalledfortherestofgroup!Ifyou’regoingtoleaveiton,youmightaswellanswerit!
“Youlooklikeyouhavesomethingtoshare?”Dr.Carolsaystome.
“No,”Isay.“Idon’thaveanythingtoshare.Ijust…Ijustdon’tthinkDaniunderstandstheconsequencesofwhatshe’sdoing.”
“It’satwo-hourdriveeachway,”Danisays.
AdigitalxylophoneplaysandIshootJuliaalookandholdituntilshesilencesherphone.AmItheonlyonewhopaysattentiontotheno-phonesruleanymore?
“Whatdoyouthinktheconsequencesare?”Dr.Carolasks.
Howcantheynotseeit?Juliasitsinherwheelchairwithhergradstudentpolitics,herhipsterbangs,andherironicT-shirts,rightnexttoMarilyn,wholookslikeabig,brunette,camera-readyTexashousewifeonsomerealityshow.Heatherisallsticklimbs,knobbyelbows,scabbyknees,barelyheldtogetherwiththeclothesshe’sscroungedoutofadonationbin,andDanilookslikeBruceSpringsteenifhewereawoman.Noneofusbelonginthesameroomtogether.
“It’sprettyobvious,”Isay.“Idon’tthinkIneedtospellitout.Imean,it’sprettycleartome.Dani’sgoingtoleave,andeventuallyAdrienne’sgoingtostopshowingup.MarilynandJuliahateeachother,andoneofthemwillstopnext,andthat’llbealltheexcuseHeatherneedstogobackondrugs.Thenwho’sleft?Me?Ifoneofusleaveswe’llallfallapart.
Maybenotinonesession,ortwosessions,oreventhree,buteventuallythiswilljustbeabigemptyroomfulloffoldingchairsandwallart.Imean,that’sprettyclear.It’snobigdeal,it’snotlikeit’saproblem,Imean,Igetthateverythingends,andweallhavetomoveon,andsixteenyearsisa
longtime,butIjustfeellikesomeoneshouldspellitout.SomeoneshouldexplaintoDaniexactlywhatitisshe’sdoing.”
Marilyn’sphonebuzzesagain,anirritatingpunctuationmarkattheendofmybigspeech.
“IneedtobearoundMichellerightnow,”Danisays.“Icametotellyouinpersonoutofrespect.”
IthinkaboutstayinghomethefirstThursdayofnextmonth.Ithinkaboutmylifeshrinkingtothesizeofmyblock,tothesizeofmyapartment,tothesizeofmyfourrooms.Ithinkaboutneverseeinganotherhumanbeingwhoreallyknowsmeeveragain.
“ButafterMichellediesyou’regoingtobealone,”Isay,knowingit’sthewrongthingtosay.“You’llneedusthen.You’llcomecrawlingback.”
“Okay,”Danisays,standingup.“I’mdonehere.Youallknowmyemailaddress.”
“Pleasestay,”Dr.Carolsays.“There’sstillhalfanhour.Canyouatleasttelluswhatledtoyourdecision?”
Danisighsandrunsherhandthroughhergraybuzzcut.
“WhenIturnedfiftyIstartedthinkingthatI’mclosertotheendthanIamtothebeginning.Idon’twanttodwellonmypastanymore.Iwanttomoveon.”
“Andyoudon’tfeellikegroupishelpingyoumoveon?”Dr.Carolasks.
“Thisisn’tjustaboutthepast,”Iburstout.
“Talk-back,”Dr.Carolwarns.
Iignoreher.
“Whataboutus?”Iask.“We’reaboutthepresent,too.We’refriends,aren’twe?We’reallpartofeachother’slives.Thisisaboutallofus.It’sabout…aboutfriendship.”
Danilooksaroundthecircle,pausingateachofus,andMarilyn’sphonestartsbuzzing,buzzing,buzzinglikeit’slaughingatme,andIcantellMarilynisn’tevenfocusedonwhat’shappening,she’sjustthinkingabouthergoddamnphone.ThenJulia’shandjerksasherphonestartsvibrating,too.
“AllIsee,”Danisays,“isabunchofwomenIbarelyknowwhoareobsessedwithwhathappenedtotheminhighschool.”
“Whoyoubarelyknow?”Iask.Ican’tevenbelieveshesaidthat.
“We’veknowneachotherforyears.”
“Whatdoweknow?”Daniasks.“Youwon’teventellusyourhomeaddress.When’sthelasttimeanyofyouaskedmeaboutMichelle?I’mtiredofpretendingthisissomethingit’snot.”
“WhataboutHeather?”Ishout,andmyvoicebouncesoffthewalls.
Danistudiesme,thenturnstoHeather.
“Heather?”sheasks.“Whataboutyou?”
“Idon’tknowwhatthatfruitcakeisyappingabout,”Heathersays.
“She’sgoingtorelapse,”Isay.“Youknowthisiswhyweallkeepcoming.Don’tyouknowhowmuchsheneedsthisinherlife?Don’tyougetthatthisistheonethingshecandependon?Ifyou’renotgoingtostayforyourself,stayforHeather.”
Danilooksembarrassed.Marilynplayswithherpurse.HeatherpinchestheskinontheinsideofherwristsinaclassicHeatherpose,andnoneofthemarelookingatmeexceptJulia,andshelooksconfused.
“Ithoughtweallkeptcomingforyou?”Juliafinallysays.
It’sajoke,it’sanotheroneofJulia’sstupidjokes.
“Forme?”Ilaugh,butit’sastrangledsealbark.“Wedon’tcomehereforme.WhywouldIneedthis?Idon’tneedthis.I’mfine.”
Noone’ssayinganything,notevenHeather,asifI’mtheembarrassingone,andMarilyn’scellphonestartsbuzzingagain,andthenJulia’s,andsomeonehastosaysomething,soIturntothemandsaywhatI’vebeendyingtosayforthelastfiveminutes.
“Willyoupleaseansweryourfuckingphones?”
“Ithinkweallneedtotakeapauseandregroup,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Whatdoyousay,Lynnette?”
“Idon’tneedabreak,”Isay.“Dani’stheonewhoneedsabreak.Thisishowshepushespeopleaway.”
“Ipushpeopleaway?”Daniasks.
“Whatdoyoucallthis?”Isay.“Youliveinthemiddleofnowhere.
Yournearestneighboristenmilesdowntheroad.You’releavinggroup.”
“I’mmarried,”Danisays.“Areyou?”
JuliatriestogetinvolvedbecauseJulialikestothinkshe’sthemostreasonablepersonintheroom.
“Youguysaretalkingpasteachother,”shesays.“Dr.Carol’sright,let’stakeabreak.”
“Oh,stickitupyourass,Rollerderby,”Isay,turningonher.“Weonlyletyouintogroupbecauseweallfeltsorryforyou.”
Juliawantstosaysomething,butHeathersmellsbloodandclimbsinthering.
“Whydon’tyoutakeyourownadvice,RainMan?”shesaystome.
“You’renotevenarealfinalgirl.”
Irealizethishasgonetoofar.IopenmymouthtotrytoputeverythingbacktogetherwhenMarilynstopsme.WhenMarilynstopseverybody.
“Myword,”shesays,soslowlyandsoftlythatweallturntostareatherstaringatherphone.Weallknowinourheartssomethingbadiscoming.
“Adrienne’sdead,”Marilynsays.
ACTHdumpsintomybloodstreamandactivatesmyadrenalgland,myveinsconstrictlikeanetbeingpulledtight,myhandsandfeetgocold,mypupilspopwideandtheroombrightens,andmymusclestense,makingthehaironmyforearmsstandup.
Themonstergother.ThemonsterfinallygotAdrienne.Anyoneofuscouldbenext.
—“NeverSayDie:FinalGirlsAreBack,”Timemagazine,1998THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUP3-D
Wedon’tstickaround,wescatter.We’refinalgirls;takingcareofourselvesiswhatwedo.Upstairsit’soneofthosebright,autumnLosAngelesdayswherenothingbadseemspossible.Wecouldbeabunchofsoccermomsleavingchurchafterplanningareallyterrificcarnivalwithfacepaintingandponyrides.MarilynisonthephoneallthewaytoherE-ClassMercedes.Juliatakestheelevatortotheparkinglot,putsherchairinthebackofherminivan,andswingsherwaytothedriver’sseatoncrutches.Heathercutsacrossfrontyardsanddriveways,wanderingoffdownAlameda.Mostpeoplewouldn’tspottheonlydetailthatmakesusdifferent:Danistandingbyhertruck,amatte-blackBerettaNanoinonehand,holdingitbehindherleg,watchingovereveryonetomakesureweallgetoutsafe.
I’mfragileandplasticandfullofstatic,butIhavemysystemandafteralltheseyearsittakesoverandkeepsmesafe.Iwalktothebusstop,mysuburbanESPonhigh.Isticktothestreet,stayingontheoutsideofparkedcars,avoidingthesidewalks,keepingmyheadonaswivel,checkingmycorners,assessingthreats.
MyfocuskeepsgettingbrokenbywhatJuliasaid.I’mwatchingoutforpeoplefollowingme,forcarswithout-of-stateplates,formeninsunglasseswiththeirhatspulledlow,butmymindkeepsarguingwithJulia.
I’mnottheproblem.Isthemansittinginthatparkedcaronlypretendingtobeonhiscellphone?WhydidheslidelowerwhenIspottedhim?I’mnotthecrazyone.I’mnotthereasonweallkeepcomingtogroup.
Heatheristheonewehavetowatchoutfor.She’stheonewhoneedsus.
I’mthesaneone.I’mthesafeone.ThatHondamakingarightturnhas
Utahplates.Imemorizethenumberincaseitcomesbackaroundtheblock.
I’mwatchingfortintedwindows.I’mwatchingformotorcycles.I’mnotthinkingaboutwhatJuliasaid.I’mnotthinkingabouthownoonearguedwithher.I’mwatchingforvans.Don’tgetmestartedonvans.
Idon’trelaxuntilI’monacitybus.Onthestreet,anyonecancomeatyoufromanydirection.Onthebus,therearelimitedanglesofattack.
They’readvertisingahorrormovieoverheadandtheredsignsmakesmethinkofAdrienne,butIneedtostayfocused.Someboyswithinstrumentcasessitattheback,headsbowed,engrossedinsomethingononeoftheirphones.Mendon’thavetopayattentionthewaywedo.Mendiebecausetheymakemistakes.Women?Wediebecausewe’refemale.LookatAdrienne.No,lookattheirshoes.Memorizetheirfaces,theirclothing,theirshoes.Especiallytheirshoes.
Itakethebusallthewaydowntown,getoffatOliveandtakemajorstreetstoanearbymultiplex.Outside,Iputmybacktothewallandpretendtocheckmyphone.Anyonefollowingmeisgoingtohavetoeitherstopshortorpassmeby.BrightwhiteNikesgothroughmyfieldofvision,shined-upblackRockports,fat-lacedTimberlands;ifsomeone’sfollowingtheycanchangetheirjacketortheirhat,butit’sawholelothardertochangetheirshoes.
Idon’tneedtolookattherooflineorcheckwindows.It’sshoesIhavetoworryaboutbecausethemonstersinourlivesprefertogetupcloseandpersonal.Asniperattackwouldbelikemailingmetheirpenis.Theyneedtotouchme.
AfterIbuymyticketIstandinthelobby,backagainstthewall,andwatchshoesagain.BetseyJohnsonballetflats,beigeUggs,confetti-coloredchildren’ssneakers,SperryTop-Siders.
Mymovieisonpreviews.Isitinthefrontrow,thenturnbackaroundlikeI’mlookingformydate.It’sacomputer-animatedchildren’smovie,soitshouldbeeasytospotanunaccompaniedadultmale.It’snotimpossible,butchancesarelowthatanyonefollowingmewouldbringachildforcamouflage.Ikeepmyeyesontheredheadedmuscleshirtwithbrunette
twinsandtheblondmalewiththebeardandthelittleboy.Bothofthemscannedthetheaterwhentheycamein,liketheywerelookingforsomeone.
WhenthemoviefinallybeginsIbreakfortheemergencyexittotheleftofthescreen,dashdownthestairs,andcomeoutonthestreet.Idon’tseetheredheadorMr.Beard.IdoseeanotherHondawithUtahplatesbutit’sadifferentnumber.Imemorizethisplate,too,notingitsdustywindowsandmud-spatteredbumper,theTripleAstickeronitsbackwindshield.IcatchabustotheBeverlyCenter.
Ridingthebus,Isitasclosetothedriveraspossible.AteverystopIwatchshoes.Itrytostayfocused—DocMartens,Caterpillarsteeltips,scuffedNikes,whitenursingshoes—butAdriennekeepshijackingmytrainofthought.SheandJuliahavethrownmeoffmygame.
Adriennewasthefirstandbestofus.She’sthereasonmostofusjoinedgroup.Hercrisissetthetemplate.Plentyofwomensurviveviolence,butwhatmakesthoseofusingroupourowntoxiclittlecategoryoffinalgirlisthatwekilledourmonsters,orwethoughtwedid,andthenithappenedtousagain.WeallthoughtAdriennewastheonlyonewhonevergotasequel,butwewerewrong,becausethirty-threeyearslater,herecamehermonsteronemoretime,backtofinishthejob.Adriennethoughtshewassafe,butshewaswrong.Whatelsewerewewrongabout?
Adrienne’scrisishappenedthesamesummerasMarilyn’s,andtheyweresimilarenoughthatthepressgotinterested,butshegotreallyfamousbecauseofwhathappenedlater,withthemovies.ShewasacounseloratCampRedLake,andstaffhadshownupearlytogettheplacereadyforcampers.Cabinshadtobeairedout,hornets’nestshadtobesprayed,canoeshadtocomeoutofstorage.Onthatfirstnight,nineofherfriendsweremurdered.Fourofthemwerefirst-yearcounselorsshedidn’tknowverywell;fivewerepeopleshe’dknownsincethey’dbeenRedLakecamperstogetheraskids.Itwastwelvelong,darkhoursthatchangedtherestofAdrienne’slife.
Thekillerturnedouttobetheformercampcook,asingledadnamedBruceVolker,whoclaimedthattwentyyearsago,twocounselorshadlethisson,Teddy,drownwhiletheywerehavingsex.HesaidthatTeddyhad
comebackfromthegravetokillallthecounselorsforrevenge,althoughheneverreallyexplainedwhyTeddyhadwaitedsolongtostart.Anyhow,thekillingsstoppedwhenAdriennedecapitatedMr.Volkerwithhisownmachete.
ThingsgotworsewhentheyfoundoutthatBruceVolkerneverhadasonwho’ddrownedatRedLake.Infact,hedidn’thaveasonatall.BruceVolkerwasjustalonelyoldmanwithafixationonkidsandagoodswing,buthemadeAdriennethefirstfinalgirl,andAdrienneusedthattomakeallherdreamscometrue.
AirbrakesspitandIlookaroundandIdon’trecognizeasinglepairofshoes.HowmanypeoplehavegottenonandoffwhileIwasdaydreaming?
Aleatherygrandmasitsbehindmewithheridenticalspouse,bothwearingidenticalbustedReeboksanddirtyredbaseballcaps.Ididn’tseethemgeton.
IslaptheemergencystopandcanbarelywaitforthedoorstoopenbeforeIslideoff.ThreeblockstotheBeverlyCenterandIcan’trun,becausenoonerunsinL.A.Ispeedwalkandgetonthenumber14bus.
ThislastlegtakesmebacktotheRedLinethewrongwayaround,andwhenIgettotheVermont/Beverlystopthetrainisalreadyattheplatform,andIsliponboardasthedoorsclose.Therearefifteenpeopleinthecar,andIfindaseatequidistantfromthedoorsateitherend.Iscantheshoesandnoneofthemlookfamiliar.FivestopslaterItransfertotheAntelopeValleyline.
Ineedtogethome,butIcan’trushmyroutine.IneedtofindoutwhathappenedtoAdrienne.Marilynhadreadtherestofthearticleoffherphone,butdetailswerethin:amankilledherinherhome,butthatwasitandIneedtoknowmorebecauseoutsideofgroupAdriennewastheoneItalkedtothemost,theonewhobroughtmeinaftermycrisis,theoneIcalledeverymonthtocheckin.Well,everyothermonth.Sometimeseverythirdmonth,maybenoteventhatsofarthisyear,butitfeltlikealot.Thepointis,Adriennealwaysmadetimeforme
WhenIfinallygetbacktoBurbank,Igetoffattheairportstopandridetherentalcarshuttlesforawhile.WhenI’mconvincedthatonlynewshoes
aregettingoneachtimetheshuttlestopsIcatchthecitybus,transfertwiceand,almostthreehoursafterIstarted,Ireachmybuilding.
Myroutevarieseverytime,buttheessentialsarethesame:goslow,lotsofsmallloopswithinbiggerloops,stayalert,stayaware,watchtheshoes,don’tgetstupid,don’tgetdead.Thelinebetweenbeingtoocarefulandnotbeingcarefulenoughisalineyouonlygettocrossonce.
Icouldn’teventellyouwhattheinsideoftheelevatorlookslikeinmybuilding;Ialwaystakethestairs.Anelevatorisaboxwithonedoor.Anymancantakeyouinanelevator,evenabigfatguybecauseyou’vegotnoplacetorun.OnthestairsI’vegotoptions,plusit’sgoodcardio.Ittookmeawhiletosettleonthethirdfloor,butit’stheperfectheight:toohighforsomeonetoreachmywindows,lowenoughthatIcansurviveajump.Imakesurenooneelseisinthehall,andthenIunlockthedoubledeadboltsandstepintomycage.
WhenImovedintothisapartmentsixteenyearsagothebuildingwasadumpandthelandlorddidn’tcarewhatkindofrenovationsImadesolongasnoonecomplained.Istillhadalittlemoneyleftoverbackthen,andasaresultmyapartmentistheoneplaceI’vebeenabletomaketrulysafe.
Eachofusrespondedtoourtraumadifferently.Danibecameself-sufficient,Adriennegotintoself-help,Marilynmarriedupandburiedherheadinthesand,Heathergothigh,Juliawentactivist.Me?Ilearnedhowtoprotectmyself.
Mycageisanexpandedsteelmeshboxthesizeofaphoneboothboltedtothewallaroundmyfrontdoor.Themeshistoughandthecageissosmallthatnoonecanworkupenoughmomentumtobreakthrough.Thedoorofthecageissealedbyfourelectromagneticbolts.Thereisnowaytoopenthemwithoutpunchinginthecodeonthekeypad,andifthere’sapowercuttheboltslockdown.Ifthecodeisenteredwrong,theboltslockdown.It’sawayofstoppinganyonewhocomesintomyapartmentfrompenetratingfurtherunlesstheyhavemypermission.I’dhavepreferredasteelfrontdoorandacoupleofsecuritycamerasinthehall,butthatwouldcallattentiontomydoor,soIsettledforthecage.
WiththefrontdoordeadboltedbehindmeIpunchinthecodeandthecage’sfourboltsslapopen,andthenIentermyapartment,shutthecagebehindme,andenterthecodeagain.TheboltsshoothomewiththesatisfyingmetalsnapthatletsmeknowI’msafe.Ibreatheinandmyapartmentsmellsreassuringlylikebleach.
“Hi,Fine,”Isaytomyplant.“Thingsaren’tgood.I’lltellyouaboutitafterIsecuretheperimeter.”
I’monlyalivebecauseIhavewillpowerandself-control.Iopenmygunsafeandtakeoutmy.38Special.Ifdiamondsareagirl’sbestfriend,thenreliablehandgunswithalotofstoppingpowerareafinalgirl’s.Idon’thaveanyillusions:thiskindofgundidn’tstopRickyWalkerthefirsttime,anditdidn’tstophisbrothereither,buttworoundsinthecenterofsomeone’smasswillslowhimdownlongenoughformegettomypanicroom.Well,paniccloset.
Guninhand,Isweepmyapartment.Ittakesfifteenminutes.It’sonlyaftermakingsurethatit’scompletelyempty,thatmypanicroomdoorisprepped,thatmycellphoneischarging,thatmycurtainsaredrawn,thattheinteriordoorsarelocked,it’sonlythenthatIsitdownandpickupFineandputhiminmylap.
“Adrienne,”Itellhim,andthenIrealizethatIcan’tsaywhathappenedtoherwithoutcrying,butIsayitanyway.“She’sdead.”
Isitlikethatforawhile,mytearsdrippingontoFine’sleaves.Iwonderifsaltwaterisbadforhim,buthe’snotcomplaining.He’sagoodlistener.
He’smybestfriend.
FineistheonlylivingthingbesidesmyselfwhoI’mresponsiblefor.Ittookmealongtimetogetupthenervetomakethatcommitment,andthenthefirstthreeplantsIboughtdidn’tmakeit.NumberfourwasFine,whichisshortforFinalPlant.I’mafinalgirl,he’safinalplant.Wemakeagoodteam.
We’vebeentogetherfornineyears,andwhenhegotspidermitestwoyearsagoIcouldn’thandlethethoughtofputtinghimoutwiththetrash,soIstayedupforthreedaysstraight,rubbinghisleaveswithwater,thenasoapsolution,thenrubbingalcohol,thenwateragain,overandover,
noddingoffoverhisleaves,makingsureeverysinglespidermitewasdead.
Iwasn’tgoingtoloseanotherfriend.Hemadeitthrough,andtheleaveshekeptweretheshiniest,cleanestleavesapepperplanteverhad.He’sbackatfullstrengthnowbutIcanstillseesomescarringonhisstalksfromtheleavesIcouldn’tsave.
I’mcryinglessnow,andIwanttotellFineallthedetails,butIrealizethatIdon’tknowany.WasAdrienneatRedLakethismorning?WasthatfootageIsawshotsofhermurdersite?Werethetwoincidentsevenrelated?
ItakeFineovertothedeskandweturnonCNN.Adrienne’sfaceisalloverthenews.It’sbeenalongtimesinceanyonecaredaboutalivingfinalgirl,butIguessadeadonereallybringsthecircusintotown.
Mostofusstayoutofeachother’spasts,butlatelyI’vebeenlookingatAdrienne’soldinfoforpersonalreasons,andthepicturesthey’reshowingonCNNarefamiliar.TheonlynewshotisoftheinteriorofherrefrigeratorwiththemummifiedheadofMr.Volkerdigitallytiledout,whichistoobad.
That’stheonlypictureIwanttosee.
AveryconcernedCNNanchorwhohasneverbeeninthesameroomasAdrienneisspeakingsincerelytothecameraasifhersisterhasdied.AtleastCNNhastakenthetimetomakesureaBlackanchorisdeliveringthisstory.
“…theshockingdeathofAdrienneButler,thesurvivorofwhat’sknownastheCampRedLakeKillings,andbestknownasAmerica’sfirstfinalgirl.Aleaderintherecoverycommunity,Butlerdevotedherlifetoending…”
Ifyou’refifteenyearsoldandyouonlywatchhorrormovies,thisisprobablythefirsttimeyou’rerealizingAdrienneisBlack.TheymadeherawhitegirlintheSummerSlaughtermovies,whichwastheirmistake.I’mconvincedthat’swhyAdriennegottheideaofgoingaftertheminthefirstplace.Shewasproudofherethnicityandthefactthattheyweremakingmoviesbasedonherlifeanderasingsomethingsoimportantflippedherswitch.
ThefirstSummerSlaughtermoviewasalreadyahitandthesequelwasabouttobereleasedbythetimeAdrienne’slawyerfiledhisinjunction.He
hadtofilealotmore,andbythetimethejudgefinallygrantedone,SummerSlaughterPartIIIin3-Dwasintheaters.Adriennehadfamilymoneyandasettlementfromthecampowners,soshehiredarealsharktobatterthemovieproducersintosubmission.Whenthestudiofinallyforcedthosefly-by-nightexploitationhackstocometothetable,Adriennetoldmewhattheysaid.
“Whatdoyouwantfromus?”they’dasked,thinkingshe’dtakeacheck,anonscreencredit,somethingthatmeantthingswouldn’tchangetoomuchforthem.
She’dsmiledandtoldthem:
“Iwanteverything.”
Andshegotit.Bythetimethecasewasoversheownedtherightstotheentirefranchise:thefirstthreefilmsandanyfutureinstallments.Theyevenhadtogiveherthescriptthey’dalreadycommissionedforPartIV
Adrienne’scasesettheprecedentthattherightstothestorybelongedtothesolesurvivor,notthefamiliesofthevictims,notwhateverstudiogottheirmovieonscreenfirst,buttothefinalgirl.Rightorwrong,itchangedeverything.Itgaveuspower.
OnceAdriennegotherrightssheburnedthatfranchisetotheground.
Everyonegotfired.Ittookhertwomonthstocleanhousewhilethestudiosquealedlikeastuckpigandtheirlawyerstriedtoexplainthatshedidn’tunderstandhowthesethingsworked,howtherewereunintendedconsequences,howgripsandgafferswouldstarveinthestreets.Thenshedidthelastthingtheyexpected:sheflippedtheswitchbackon.
Therewasalineproducerwho’dbeenonallthreeSummerSlaughtermovies,andAdriennesetherupastheexecutiveproducerwiththeunderstandingthattherewasonlyonepersonsheneededtokeephappy:Adrienne.Herlawyernegotiatedanamendedcontractwiththestudioandthefollowingsummer,SummerSlaughterPartIIIin3-Dwasrereleasedintheaters,whichwaswhatyoudidbackinthosedays,andtwomonthslater,SummerSlaughterIVhitscreens.
BeforePartIVcameout,Adriennewentonallthetalkshowsandmadesureeveryoneknewtheproceedsfromthesemoviesweren’tgoingtoher,
theyweregoingtohernonprofit,theAdrienneButlerFundforthePreventionofViolenceagainstWomen.Whileotherslashersweregettingslammedasmisogynistic,thepresshungahaloonAdrienne’sSummerSlaughtermovies.Noonefeltguiltyaboutbuyingaticketbecausealltheprofitswenttoagoodcause.Bythemiddleofthenineties,AdriennewastheOprahWinfreyofviolenceagainstwomen.Somepeopledidn’tevenknowaboutherconnectiontothefilms.
Shewrotebooks,shegavelectures,sheshotTVspecials,sheheldseminars,sheledworkshops.SheusedhermoviemoneytobuyCampRedLakeandturnitintoaretreatforvictimsofviolence.Shewastireless,shewasdevoted,shewaspositiveandupbeat.ShewasAmerica’sfavoritefinalgirl.
Shemadetherestofusfeellikefrauds,likeweweren’tlivinguptoourfullestpotential,likeweshouldbeaskingwhatwecoulddoforourcountryratherthanputtingsecuritybarsoverourwindowsandlearninghowtoshoot.ButAdrienneneverjudgedourchoices,andshedefinitelydidn’tthinkIwasthecrazyone.
ShewasneverasrichasMarilyn,butshewasalwaysmoregenerous.
ShepaidforJuliatomakethehouseshelovedwheelchairaccessible.WhenDanimovedtoherland,Adriennepaidforapaniclinetobeputin.
“It’snotforyou,”shesaid.“It’ssoIcansleepatnight,knowingtheoddsarealittlebitmoreinyourfavor.”
TheSummerSlaughtermovieswerethedarkenginethrobbingawaydownintheboilerroomofAdrienne’sempire,turningherpainintocash.
Therewerenineoriginalmoviesintheseries,morethananyofusevergot.
TherewasasciencefictionversionsetinthefuturewhereanimplacableTeddyawakensfromcryo-sleepandstartstokillpeopleonaspacestation.
TherewasacrossoverwithHeather’sDreamKingthatshesetuptotrytosendsomemoneyHeather’sway,butthatendedbadlybecause,well,Heather.Therewereactionfigures.Plushdolls.Strangelyenough,sheneverinsistedtheycastaBlackactressasthelead.Adriennealwayshadarealisticmind-setwhenitcametowhoMiddleAmericathoughtofassympatheticvictims.
JuliaaskedAdrienneonceifitbotheredherthatthemanwhotriedtomurderher,themanwhomurderedherfriends,thatthismanwasmemorializedonlunchboxesandT-shirts.ThatthismanwasprobablymorefamousthanAdrienne.
“Itwasn’tTeddywhokilledmyfriends,”Adriennesaid,smiling.
“Teddyneverexisted.IfBruceVolkerknewthattheliehetoldishelpingmeendviolenceagainstwomenhewouldspininhisgrave,andthatmakesmeveryhappy.”
AsFineandIwatchCNN,welearnthatwhileBruceVolkerdidn’thaveasonnamedTeddy,hedidhaveanephewnamedChristophe,andhewasthreewhenhisuncledied.Nowhe’sthirty-fiveandpissedthathisfamilytragedyhasbecomeaglobalentertainmentempireandnoonethoughttocuthiminforapercentage.
I’mfamiliarwiththename.ChristophewasoneofadozencraziesfilingnuisancelawsuitsagainstAdrienne,butshealwayshadmorelawyersandmoremoney,andmostjudgestakeadimviewofakiller’snephewtryingtotakemoneyfromoneofhisdeaduncle’sintendedvictims.
Christophe’slawsuitsbecameagameofWhac-A-Mole,andfinally,totallybrokeandmorethanalittlederanged,hedecidedtotakeacuefromHollywood.
Afewyearsago,he’dstartedstalkingAdrienne’sCampRedLakepropertyuntilthey’dgottenacourtordertokeephimonethousandfeetaway.He’drespectedthatuntillastnightwhenhe’dsuddenlystopped,duguphisuncle’sgrave,gonetothecamp,killedtheskeletonstaffwhowereshuttingitdownfortheseason,gotpushedoutofahayloft,limpedawayfromthecops,thendrovethreehourstoAdrienne’shouseandplacedhisuncle’sdecapitated,mummifiedheadinherrefrigerator.Whenshecamedownstairstomakehermorningcoffeehesteppedoutofthepantryandstabbedherinthebackoftheskulltwenty-twotimeswithanicepick.
Liketherestofus,relationshipswerenotAdrienne’sstrongsuit,sonoonefoundherbodyuntilthepolicecamebytotellheraboutthemurdersathercamp
Justthenmycellphonerings.Icheckit,andknowthatIdonotwanttotalktothatparticularindividualrightnow.Ineedtodecompress.Ineedtosettledownwithsomethingcomfortable.I’mswitchingtoNetflixandclickingthroughforLoveActuallywhenIhearasoundthatstillscaresme,evenafterallthistime.
Somethingthumpsagainstmyfrontdoor.
IturntoFine.He’sasscaredasIam.Iclickovertomysecurityscreen.
TherewasnowayIwasgoingtoletmydoorbecomeablindspot,soafterImovedinIputapinholecamerainmypeephole.
Noone’satmydoor.
There’sanotherthump.
IputFineonmydesk,outofthewaywherehewon’tgethurt,andthenIhavemy.38inmyhandandthesafetyoff.There’sasecondconcealedcameraoutsidemydoor,thisonelowerdown.WhenIswitchtoitIrealizewhyIdidn’tseethembefore.TheothercamerawastoohightoseeJuliainherwheelchair,knockingonmydoor.
Iclosemyeyesandwishheraway.Sheknockslouder.
“Iknowyou’reinthere,Lynnette,”shesays,andIcanhearherthroughthedoor,throughmycage,acrosstheemptyroom,penetratingmyonesafeplace.
“She’llgoaway,”IwhispertoFine.“Ifwejustholdstillanddon’tmakeasound,she’llgoaway.”
NooneknowswhereIlive.Idon’tdrivebecauseIdon’ttrusttheDMV
tokeepmyaddresssafe.Idon’thavealibrarycard.Idon’tvote.Idoeverythinginmypowertostayoffstatedatabases.FederalIcan’tdoanythingabout,soIcanonlypraythey’remoresecure.ThedownsideofnooneknowingwhereIliveishowwouldtheyknowifIwentmissing?Howlongbeforesomeonenoticed?Whatwouldhebedoingtomeinthemeantime?
SoeightyearsagoItookagamble.Juliawasthenewestmemberofgroup,andIguessIpickedherbecauseshe’stheyoungest.Ithoughtthatmeantshe’dbemorelikelytodowhatIsaid.Icheckinwithhertwiceadayviatext,atninea.m.andatninep.m.,sosheknowsI’malive.IfImiss
acheck-inI’veleftherasealedenvelope.Imadeherpromisenevertoopenitotherwise.Itcontainsdirectionstomyapartment.
Onthescreen,Juliastopsknockingandrollsherselfbackafoot.She’sgivingup.She’sgoingaway.Sheplayswithsomethinginherlapandthenmycellphonerings.Idesperatelysearchmyphoneforthemuteswitchandsilenceit,butit’stoolate.SheknowsI’mhome.
PixilatedJuliayellsatmethroughmydoor.
“Lynnette,stopbeingafreak,it’simportant!”
FineandIdon’tmove,wedon’tmakeasound,wedon’tbreathe.Alertsbloomonmyscreenasthistraitorcallsmyphoneagainandagain.Aftertheeighthtime,shegoesaway.
IletoutmybreathandFineletsouthisandwelookateachother.Nowwhat?Ourlocationiscompromised.Dowestayinplaceorrun?IfJuliacamehereIhavetoassumethatsomeonemighthavefollowedherandnowthey’rewatchingmyapartment.ButIcan’tleave.Thisismyonlysafespace.
I’vegotenoughfoodtolastthreeweeks.Idon’thavetoopenmycurtains.I’llturnoffmyphoneandhunkerdown.Noonecangetinside.
It’llbesafeenough.LettheotheroneshandleJulia’s“emergency.”Ineedtostayalive.
—
HalfwaythroughLoveActually,there’sanotherknockonmydoor.Icutthevolume,switchonmyscreen,andcallupthelowercamera,wishingJuliawouldjustleavemealone.Myskingoestightandmymuscleslock.Thehandholdingmygungoesnumb.It’sJulia,andcrouchedbyhersideistheGhostinhisblackrobeandwhitemask,pressingaknifetoherthroat.
It’snotreal,it’samovie,ImuststillbeonNetflixandIaccidentallyclickedononeofJulia’sStabflicks.ThisgirlonscreenplayingJuliaisdoingagreatjobwithfear,hereyeswide,hermouthopen,chesthitching,andI’mmirroringherhyperventilation.
It’samovie.That’sall.I’mwatchingamovie,becausethiscan’tberealbecauseItakeprecautions.I’mcareful.Idon’ttakerisks.
ThentheGhostturnsitsblackeyeholestothecameraandpullsoutasheetofprinterpaper.
“Openthedoororshedies,Lynnette,”thepapersaysinMagicMarker.
Weallhaveadeal.We’veneverspokenaboutit,butIknowitexiststhesamewayIknewthatmyparentslovedmeandthatmyapartmentissafeandthatFine’smybestfriend:whenthemonsterscome,wehelpeachother.Nomatterwhosemonsteritis.Nomatterwhatneedsdoing.Thisiswhathappenswhenyou’reafinalgirl,andgroupisamonthlyreminderofourbargain.
Ijustdidn’tthinkJuliawouldbethefirstonetocallinherchips.
Itightenthegriponmy.38Special.Imakesurethesafetyisoff.ThenIpressthebuttonthatopensmyfrontdoorandIwaitforthemonstertocomeinside.
—“WomenAreOurMeat,andtheEating’sGood”byDeborahBallin,publishedintheLastWordontheFinalGirlsanthology,1989THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPIV:
ReturnoftheFinalGirls
BZZTgoesthebuzzerthatreleasesthelatchonmyapartmentdoor.Itaketheshooter’sstancethatIpracticeeverynight,theonethatmeanseverythinghasgonewrongifI’mtakingitinsidemyapartment.IaimthebarrelwellaboveJulia’shead,exactlywhereIthinkthecenteroftheGhost’storsowillbe,andmyarmsareshaking,mywristsareweak,myfingersarenumb.Ican’ttellifmyforefingerisonthetriggeroroutsidethetriggerguardbutI’mtooscaredtotakemyeyesoffthedoortocheck.Thecagewillbemykillzone.Ican’tworryaboutmybackstopnow.Ican’tthinkaboutwhathappenstothebulletsthatpunchthroughthefrontwallsoftheapartmentacrossthehall.
Ifeelembarrassed.
I’movercommitted.I’moverreacting.I’vemadeamistake.I’veneverpointedagunatahumanbeinginmylife.Youdon’tdothingslikethis,notinacity,notinmyhouse,butI’mtooscaredtoputmystiffarmsbackdownsoIstandtherelikeanasshole,holdingmygunlikeIthinkI’msomekindofbadass,likemyworldisn’tfallingapart.
ThefeetofJulia’swheelchairpushthedooropenassheentersthecage,andmymusclesmakeamicroscopicsnap-contractionbutIdon’tshoot.IneedtotakesomedeepbreathsbeforeIpassout.ThemeshistoothickformetoseeJulia’sface,butIknowexactlyhowshefeels.I’vefeltitbefore.
Untilyou’vebeenthroughwhatwe’vebeenthroughyouhavenoideahowscaredahumanbeingcanget.
There’sahigh-pitchedringinginmyears.Iseethecageinthecenterofmyvisionandeverythingarounditiscoveredingrayhaze.
I’llprotectyou,IreassureFineinmymind.Hecan’tgetthroughthecage.
Idon’tknowifI’mtalkingtoFineortomyself.
TheGhostentersbehindJulia.Idon’tthink,Ipullthetrigger,andthat’swhenIlearntheanswertomyquestion:myfingerwasoutsidethetriggerguard.Sweat-slicked,myfingerslipsoffthegunandmyice-coldhandslosetheirgripandIfumble.IsquatfastandcatchmyslipperygunwithmyfingertipsrightbeforeithitsthefloorandIdon’tevenbothertostanduporgetafirmgrip;myfingerfindsthetrigger.
“Lynnette!Lynnette!”Julia’sshouting.
I’llsaveus,Fine.
TheGhosttearsatitsmask,andit’sweirdbehavior,butI’mnotstoppinguntilI’msafe.
“Lynnette!Stop!”Juliashouts.
Isqueezethetrigger.
Thesoundstabsmeinbotheardrums.Theroomfillswithsmoke.MywristssnapbackwardandIpunchmyselfintheface,Itastemetalonmyteeth.SuddenlyI’msittingonthefloor.
“Ipissed,”amuffledmalevoiceshouts.“Ipissedmyself.”
“Lynnette!It’sRuss.It’sRussellThorn!”
I’mclimbingtomyfeetagain,guninmylefthand.Iswitchittomyright.
“Lynnette,”Juliashoutsagain.“JesusChrist.Don’tshoot.Don’tshoot.
What’syoursafeword?JesusChrist.”
Iraisemygunagain.TheGhostistangledupinitsblackrobes,tryingtoopenthedoorbackoutintothehall,butit’sstuckbetweenthedoorandJulia’schair.
“Helpme!”itscreams.“Helpmehelpmehelpme!”
Ifindthecenterofitstorsowiththebarrelofmygun.
“Lynnette,”Juliashouts.“ThisisRussellThorn.Heinterviewedyou.”
Iknowthatname.
“RussellThorn,”Irepeat,butmostlyI’mwonderingwhatstoppedmybullet.Whyisn’ttheGhostdead?WhyistheGhostRussellThorn?
Ipullthetriggeragain.
ThecageshakesbutthistimeIkeepmystance.ThistimeitonlyfeelslikeIbrokemywrists.
“Stopshootingatus!”RussellThornscreams.
HismaskisoffandIseehisgingerbeardandhe’sclimbingoverJuliainherwheelchair,andinsidethecageit’sawrithingmessofarmsandlegs.
“Itwasn’tmyidea!”Juliashouts.“Butyouwouldn’topenthedoorforme.”
Iamvery,verytired.Mytongueisthick.Myeyelidsaremadeoflead.
Theroomisdimfromgunsmoke,anditburnsmyeyes,makesmesleepy.
“Iopenedyourenvelope,”Juliasays.“Becausewehavetotalk.”
Ihavelivedherequietlyforsolong,andnowIhavefiredaguntwice,andinfiveminutesthepolicewillcome,andmorepeoplewillenterthisapartmentinthenexthalfhourthanhavecomethroughthatdoorinsixteenyears.
Myfacegoesnumb.Ipunchthecodeintothekeypadandthelocksslapopen.Juliawheelsinside.
“YouneedtogetatowelforRuss,”shesays,voiceshaking.“Ican’tbelieveyoushotatme.Holycrap,I’mhavingaheartattack.”
“Thatdoesn’tcomein,”Isay,pointingattheGhostmaskandrobe.
I’mstillholdingthegun.Russelldropstherobelikeit’sonfire.
“Inthehall,”Itellhim.
Hefallsalloverhimselfthrowingitoutside,andthenheslamsthedoor.Finedoesn’tlikethis.Hepreferswhenit’sjustus.Hedoesn’twantstrangersinhere.
“It’stoolate,”Itellhim.
“What?”Juliaasks,onehandpressedtoherchest.
Russellislookingatmethewayyoulookatacrazyperson.He’smeasuringthedistancetothedoor.Iwalkover,slamthecagedoorshut,andtheboltsbanghome.Russelljumps.WhenIturnbackfromthecagehe’ssittinginmychair.
“Sitonthetreadmill,”Isay.“Yourpantsarewet.”
Hisfaceturnsredbeneathhisbeardbuthemoves.He’stakingineverythingatonce,andhisstickyeyescrawlallovermywalls,mycomputer,myscreens,takingnotesinsidehishead,composingsentencesaboutme(“Aspartanone-bedroomwithindustrial-yellowwalls”),writingparagraphsthatjudgeme(“Curtainstightlyclosedasifshefearsthesunlightalmostasmuchasshefearsthemanwhohurtherallthoseyearsago…”),comingupwithpatthesisstatements(“Awomantrappedinsideherapartment,servingasentencemuchlikethemanwho…”).
Hepretendsweweren’tspeakingjustlastweek.
Istudymycage.There’retwoscorcheddents.Theguywhobuiltitassuredmethataroundfroma.38wouldhavenoproblempenetratingit,butheeitherliedorwasstupid.HowmanyotherplanshaveImadebasedonwronginformation?
“Wow,”Juliasays,tryingtosoundbrave,fingeringthedentswithoneshakingfinger.“Youreallyshotatus.”
“Itwassupposedtopenetratethemesh,”Isay.
“WellI,forone,amreallyfuckinggladthatitdidn’t,”Russellsaysfromdownbythefloorwherehesitsonthetreadmill.
“You’renotsupposedtoopenmyletterunlessImissacheck-in,”IsaytoJulia.
“It’surgent,”shesays.
“Thisisaviolation,”Isay.“Atotalviolation.”
“Someoneingroupiswritingabook,”Juliasays.“Mr.Volker’snephewknewaboutit.”
Suddenly,Ihavetheflu.
“Why’dyoucomehere?”Imumble.
Someonestartsbangingonmydoor.
“Goaway!”Ishout.
“I’mcallingthepolice,”awoman’svoiceshoutsback.
Icheckmycamera.It’stheactresswholivesdownthehall,wearingsweatpantsandunlacedrunningshoes.
“We’rerehearsingascene,”Ishoutather.
Weallwatchonthescreenasshewalksbackdownthehallandgoesintoherapartment.
“Whydidyoucome?”Irepeat.
“BecauseIknowit’sHeather,”Juliasays.“Ineedyoutohelpfindher.”
Russellglaresatmefromdownbythefloor,gettinghisconfidenceback.Juliawantsanswers.ThemanwhokilledAdrienneknowsthatsomeoneinourgroupiswritingabook.JuliathinksHeatheriswritingabook?
“Ineedaminute,”Isay.“Ineedyoubothtoshutupforaminute.”
Julia’skillerwastheGhost.HeworeblackrobesandaHalloweenmaskandheturnedouttobeherboyfriend,ahorrorbuffwhowantedtotransformherintohisveryownfinalgirltheirsenioryearofhighschool.
HesharedhisGhostcostumewithhisbestfriendandtogethertheycarvedtheirwaythroughthestudentbodyoftheirgraduatingclass.Tothem,allthosedeadgirlswereonebigmeta-joke.
TheywerecleverkidswithgoodSATscoresandcollegeintheirfuture,kidswhodidn’ttakeanythingseriouslybecausetheyassumedtheyweresmarterthaneveryoneelse.Theonethingtheydidn’tthinkthroughwasthatifJuliawasgoingtobetheirfinalgirlshehadtokillthem.TurnedoutJuliadidn’thaveaproblemwiththat.Shesaidtheworstthingwastheirquips.Nomatterhowmanytimessheshotherboyfriendhekeptmakingstupidquips.
Americahadlostitstasteforfinalgirlsbythenineties,butwhenJuliawenttocollegehersequelhappenedandsuddenlyAmericaperkedup.Wecallitasequelbecausetheyalmostalwayscomeback.Oneofherclassmates,hungryforhisfifteenminutesoffame,tookontheGhostdisguise.Hekilledfivepeople,gotarrested,gothiscapitalsentencecommutedtolife,andmadeJuliaastarintheprocess.Everyonelovesacomebackqueen.
ThewayshestoppedthesecondGhostwasbytacklinghimoutawindowtosaveherroommate’slife.ShereceivedanincompletefractureofherL1vertebraforhertrouble.Eversince,she’sbeeninawheelchairwithonlypartialmobilityofherupperlegs.Theyleftthatpartoutofthemovie
whentheycastadoe-eyed,able-bodiedballerinainherplace.Anditturnsoutshebrokeherbackfornothing.Herroommatediedonthewaytothehospital.That’slife:alwayskickingyouwhenyou’redown.
Julia’sphysiotherapistgotpromotedtohusbandandconvincedhertohitthetalkshowcircuit.Iknowwhatit’slike.Youdon’twantsomeoneangryatyou,especiallyaman,soyousayyestothingsyoudon’twanttodobecausethere’snoroadmapforwhereyouare,nothingtoguideyouexceptaneonsigninyourheadthatsaysDonotmakemenangry
Thetalkshowcircuitdidn’tcountonhowpissedJuliawas.Shesaysshedidn’trealizeiteither.HerfirstappearancewaswithSallyJessyRapha?l.Sallycalledheraninspiration.Julialookedherdeadintheeyeandsaid,“Thenwhydon’tyougetinspiredtoputinsomegoddamnwheelchairrampsaroundhere.”TheproducerforhernextbookingcalledhalfwaythroughtheshowandleftavoicemailsayingtheyweresosorrybutshewasbeingbumpedforEdBegleyJr.andhisbiodieselcar.Theyneverrescheduled.
AdriennewastheonewhobroughtJuliaintogroup.Wealmostdidn’ttakeherbecauseallshedidwaspickfights.JuliaevenfoughtwithHeather,andwithintenminutesofmeetingheryouknowthatfightingwithHeatherisawasteoftime.Then,afterasessioninwhichJuliaspentfifteenminuteslecturingMarilynaboutAmericanimperialism,AdrienneinvitedherouttoCampRedLakefortheweekend.Juliastayedforaweek.Shewon’tsaywhathappened,butwhateveritwasworked.Whenshecamebacksheburiedherselfinbooksandearnedherparalegaldegree,gotamaster’sinsportsmedicine,tookself-defenseclasses,learnedtoshootfromherchair.
Shestartedshuttingup,asmuchasJuliaiscapableofshuttingup.
Shealsofiguredoutthatherformerphysiotherapist,andcurrenthusband,had“misappropriated”allhermoney.Adivorcekeptthingsfromgettingworse,butittookawhiletoputherlifebacktogether.Onceayear,RayCarlton,thesecondGhost,filesanappealandonceayear,thejudgeswatsitdown.Juliadoestheparalegalworkonherowncase.Theprosecutor’sofficeishappytogetthefreesetofhands,anditgivesJuliaasenseofsatisfaction.
“You’veendangeredmylife,”Isaytoher.
“It’saplasticknife,”Russellsays.
“That’snottheissue.”
“We’vegotbiggerproblemsthanyourparanoia,”Juliasays.
“Youendangeredmysafety,”Irepeat.
“Ladies,”Russellsays.“Beforethecatfightcommences,maybewecanhaveamoresubstantivediscussion.”
Histougher-than-leatherattitudeisunderminedbyhiswhinyvoiceandwetcrotch.
“Howdoyouknowsomeone’swritingabook?”IaskJulia.
“Itoldher,”Russellsays.
Iamatalossforwords.WhateverscriptIwasgiven,hejusttookitinadirectionIdon’tunderstand.Mygobaghangsfromahookbythecage.Icangrabitandbeoutofhereinseconds.
“ChristopheVolker,”Juliasays.“You’veseenthenews?YouheardwhathedidtoAdrienne?”
Idon’ttrustmyselftospeak,soInod.
“ThatStephanieFugate,thesurvivorinyesterday’sCampRedLakekillings,”Juliasays.“ShetoldthepolicethatChristophewasaChattyCathy.Theentiretimehewascomingafterherhewouldnotshutupaboutwomenthis,singlemothersthat,thehomosexualagenda,Obama’sbirthcertificate,FEMAdeathcamps.Oneofthethingssheremembershimsayingisthathe’dtalkedtosomeoneinourgroup.ThattheywerewritingabookandaskedhimfordetailsabouthislawsuitswithAdrienne.”
“Essentially,”Russellsays,“youladieshavealeak.Andthislunaticknewaboutit.”
“It’sHeather,”Juliasays.
Juliadoesn’tusethewordsmostpeopleuselikeIthinkorinmyopinion.Shejuststatesheropinionlikeit’safact.
“Heatherwouldn’tdothat,”Isay.
“Shedoesn’tfeelthesameloyaltywedo,”Juliasays.“Shetriedtowriteabookbefore,soweknowshe’snotopposedtotheidea,andshealwaysneedsmoney.”
“Itcan’tbeHeather,”Isay.
“Ofcourseit’sHeather,”Juliasays.“Itriedherhalfwayhouse,butshehadn’tcomebackfromgroup.It’slikelysheheardaboutVolkerandtookoffbecausesheknewwe’dkickherass.”
“ButyouthinkI’mcrazy,”Isay.
“What?”Juliaasks.
“Atgroup.YousaidthatIwasthereasongroupstucktogether,notHeather.ThatIwasthecrazyone.Youmadeabigthingoutofit.”
“Well…”Julialooksaroundmyapartment.“Thisdoesn’texactlylookliketheproductofahealthymind.”
“Nottoberude,”Russellsays,“butIhadnoideayouwereatotallunatic.”
“Shutup,”Juliatellshim.“Lynnette,I’msorryifIhurtyourfeelingsandviolatedyourtrust.Butrightnow,Heatheriswritingabookandthatputsusallindanger.Anybookaboutgroupispracticallyahow-tomanualforeveryunstablefanwithanurgetotakeashotatthecastratingmommyfigurewhokilledtheirpsychosupergod.”
“Heatherdoesn’thavethepatiencetowriteabook,”Isay.“Andshe’stooselfishtosplitthemoneywithaghostwriter.Thebook’snotimportant.
How’dVolkergetAdrienne’shomeaddress?”
“He’sastalker,”Juliasays.“Theystalk.You’remissingthepoint.DoIreallyneedtoexplainwhatwillhappenifsomeFinalGirlSupportGrouptell-allcomesoutcourtesyofHeatherDeLuca?”
We’veallspentalotoftimeinthepubliceye,butthepublicdoesn’tknowaboutgroup.Ithinkofourmonstersrottinginprisonandondeathrowandtheirfansontheoutside;Ithinkaboutthepresswhosuddenlyseemtohaveatasteforourbloodagainnowthatoneofushasbeenmurdered.IthinkofwhatwouldhappeniftheyknewwemetonceamonthinachurchbasementinBurbank.
“Istilldon’tgetwhyhe’shere,”Isay,pointingatRussellwithmychin.
“HecalledmeaboutwhatthatkidsaidaboutVolker,”Juliasays.“HealsoaskedifIknewwhereyoulive.Ididn’tknowhewasgoingtofollowmehere.”
“Ididmanagetogetyourdooropen,”Russellbrags,asifhispantsaren’tstainedwithhisownpiss.“ProvingthatIamnotunresourceful.
You’llfindthatcooperatingwithmewillonlybeofbenefit.”
“HetoldyouwhatVolkersaid?”Iask.Thisobnoxiousbottom-feederhasbeenamosquitoinallourearsforyears.MaybeIcanstillturnthisaround.“Howdoyouknowhe’snotlyingtoyou?”
Russellletsoutafrustratedsigh,probablywishingweweremenbecausethenhecouldcommunicatewithuslikeadults,andhestridestothewindow,pausingdramaticallybymyblackoutcurtains,strikingaposeknownasCounselorAddressingtheJury.
“Youladieshavealwaysunderestimatedme,”hesays.“Isuggest,however,weenterintoanewspiritofcooperation.”
Hehasmycurtainsparted,lookingdownatthestreet.Ineveropenmycurtains.Itpresentsatarget.Thewindowsillisthickwithdustanddeadspiders.
“Closethem,”Isay.
“Someonecalledthepolice,”hesays,lookingoutatthestreet.Heyanksmycurtainsback.Thefloodoflightdrivesmedeeperintotheroom.
“Thisblockispositivelycrawlingwithlawenforcement.”
“Californiahascastledoctrine,”Isay.“Iamperfectlyjustifiedinfiringmyweaponinsidemyhome.”
Glassbreakswithametallicsnapandthestreetnoisegetslouderassomethingslapstheoppositewall.Plasterdustpuffsup.Thunderrollsdownthestreetoutside.
slap-powboooom
There’sanotherone.ThecurtainsinRussell’shandtwitchandsomethingshovesJuliabackwardinherchair,herheadmakingahollow-coconutthonkonthefloor.Freshairblowsthroughtwoholesinmywindow.Istareatashardofglassthathangsforasecond,thenseparatesandtinklesoffthewindowsill.Thenmywindowsexplode.
slap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powboooom
Mycastlebecomesashootinggallery.Leadteethshredthecurtainsintotatters,blastglassacrossthefloor,chewtheplasterwallsintochips.Whitedustchokestheairandcoatsmythroat.Asniper.Iseepalemuzzleflashesfromtheroofacrossthestreet.It’shigher.Theyhaveperfectsightlines.Ineverthoughtofasniper.Ineverthoughtthey’dtrytokillmefromsofaraway.
Thenoisesoundslikemyworldrippingitselfinhalfandit’snevergoingtostop.
Russellcowersonthefloor,shouldershunched,holdinghishandsoverhishead.
Everythinggoessilent.
“They’reshooting!”Russellshoutsinthesuddensilence.“They’reshootingatus!”
ElectricityracesdownmyspineandIdropmygun,risingtoacrouch,sprintingacrosstheroom,makingforFine.
Gotyou,Ithinkathim,asIscoophimup.I’mnotleavingyoubehind.
ThenIturntowhereJulialiestangledupinherchair.Shedoesn’tmove.Itakeonelongsteptowardherandtheworldexplodesagain.
slap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powboooom
“No!No!No!”Russellshrieks.“Helpme!”
ItryforJuliabutthewalldivotsinfrontofme,plasterdustcoversmyeyes.Ireverse,diggingmyfeetintothefloor,overbalancebackward,andgodownhardononehip.Finespinsacrossthefloor,trailingdirt.
“Fine!”Ishoutashecomestoarestinthefarcorner.Russelllauncheshimselfoffthefloorandrunsforthefrontdoor,steppingdownhardononeofmyhands.
slap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powboooom
Hefliessidewaysandhitsthewalllimp,thendropstothefloor.Iamonmyfeet,tryingagainforJulia,butthegunfiredrivesmeback,makesmybraingored,andbeforeIcanthinkI’mchangingdirection,grabbingmygobag,slappinginthecodeonthekeypadandtheboltssmackopen.Iprepare
forabullettotearthroughmyback.EverythingI’vespentyearsbeingterrifiedofishappeningallatonce.Myoldscarsachelikefreshwounds.
Myentirefieldofvisionisthedoortothehall.I’mnotlookingsoparanoidrightthisminute.
slap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powslap-powThecagevibratesallaroundme.
slap-powslap-powslap-pow
Iowethatguyathank-youforsellingmedefectivemesh.Ithrowthehalldoorwide,andIrun.
I’msorry,IthinkovermyshoulderatJuliaandatFine.
Lynnette!Fineshoutsafterme,ormaybeit’sJulia.Don’tleaveme!
ThenI’minthehall,leavingmyhomebehind,leavingmybestfriendbehind,leavingJuliabehind.Itturnsoutthatwhenpushcametoshove,Ionlysavedmyself.
—AmericanScreams:MappingHorror’sHeartland,secondedition,byNickEliot,1998THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUP’S
NEWNIGHTMARE
Imakealeftandrunpastonecracked-openapartmentdoorafteranother,eachonefeaturingastackedtotempoleoffacestooscaredtohelpbuttoocurioustostayinside.Icrashthroughthedoorattheendofthehallandbangdownthestairwell,prayingthepolicearecominguptheelevator,securingmygobagstrapsovermyshoulders,runningtoofasttofeelguiltyaboutFine,toofasttothinkaboutJulia,takingtheconcretestairsfiveatatime,pullingmyplasticpaintscraperoutofthesidepocketofmybackpack.
IwillcomebackforFine.
Ipromise.
Ididn’thaveachoice.
Juliawillunderstand.
AtthebottomofthestairsistheemergencydoorleadingoutbackwithaDetexpushbarandaredsignthatsaysPushtoOpen,AlarmWillSound
Theboltisexposedand,justlikeI’vepracticedahundredtimes,Islidethepaintscraperbetweenthepushbarandthedoorframeandpoptheboltwithoutactivatingthealarm.Thedoorcasuallyclicksopenlikeit’snobigdealandIslipoutside.
Theairisgray,theskyfilledwithorangecloudsasthesunsetsoverthehills.Thebackofthebuildingfacesachain-linkfenceandbeyondthatisthebackofanidenticalsetofshitboxapartments.ItossthepaintscraperandsprintacrosscigarettebuttsandcrushedbeercanstothelowholeinthefencethatIsnippedalongtimeagoandcheckonceamonth.
Islitheronmybellyintothenextparkinglot.AsItrotacrosstheoldasphaltIstraponthefannypackthatwasduct-tapedtomygobag,comfortedbytheweightoftheM&PShieldinside.Itdoesn’thavealotofstoppingpower,butbeggarscan’tbechoosers.
Idon’tthink.Ilettheprogramtakeover.Itrotontothestreet,slowingtoafastwalk,headingawayfrommyapartment,notlookingback.Behindme,IcanhearFine’scriesfadingawayinsidemyhead.Ilefthim.I’msorry.
IleftJulia.
Istaywiththeprogram.
Turningawayfrommybuilding,Imakemywaytotheparkinggarage.
Asirenripsthroughthetwilightasmyhouseturnsintoacopmagnetsuckingallavailableemergencyvehiclestoitself.Anotheronedopplerspast.Thiscityisatrap.Ican’tbreathe.
Ittakesexactlyfifteenminutestoreachtheparkinggarage.IgoupstairwellAwithmycarkeyinmyhand,headingformyescapevehicleonthethirdlevel.
IdecidedlongagothatIcouldn’triskhavingmyhomeaddressintheDMVsystem,butIhaveacoupleoffakeIDsthat’regoodenoughtouseinanemergency,andforthepastfiveyearsI’verentedaspaceinthisgarageforaChevyLuminaIboughtforeighthundreddollars.OnceamonthImakesureshestillruns.Ikeepcampinggearinhertrunk,andtheplanistodrivetowardElPaso,thendisappearoffthegridalongtheway.It’sabigcountryandIcanmovefast.
ThefirstthingIseewhenIcomeoffthestairsismycarsittingtoolowattheotherendofthedeck.HandonmySmith&Wessoninsidethefannypack,ittakesuntilI’mhalfwaytheretoseetheproblem:someoneslashedallfourtires.MymindgoeswhitebutItrusttheprogramandwithouthesitatingIturnandtrotdownstairwellB.Ifeeleyescrawlingalloverme.
Idon’tbelieveincoincidence.Somehowsomeoneknewaboutmyvehicleandtheycompromiseditsintegrity.Closedthisescaperoute.
Idon’tscreambecausetheymightstillbewatching.Idon’thaveapanicattackbecauseIforcemylungstofillwithair,evenastheytryto
crampclosed.Idon’trundownthecenterofthestreetshootinganyonewholookssuspiciousbecauseIplannedforthis.Ihaveabackupplanformybackupplanbecauseoneisnone,andtwoisone.Danitaughtmethat.
IfindL.A.CityCabinmycontactsandpresscall.Imeettheblack-and-yellowbythedoughnutplaceonthecornerandtakeapictureofhishacklicense.ThedrivermonologuesabouthisT-shirtbusinesswhileIsitagainstthedoor,gobaginmylap,barrelofmySmith&Wessonpointedatthebackofhisseat.Howdidsomeonefindmycar?Theymusthavefollowedmeonenight.TheymusthaveplannedthisfarinadvanceandnowI’mplayingcatch-up,whichmeanseverything’sontheirterms.ButVanNuysSelf-Storageismyacecard.
Igetoutonthecornerandpaycash,thenduckaroundtheblock,walkingagainsttraffictothemassivebeigestoragebunker.ThelockersareonthefirstfloorandIentermydoorcodetogetintothefacilityandheadforA132.Itholdsaduffelbagcontainingthreethousanddollarsincash,threechangesofclothes,anothergunandammunition,acreditcard,andmorefakeIDs.TheplanistoheadforUnionStationandgoanywheredomestic,chosenatrandom.I’vegotenoughmoneytolaylowforawhile,andwhenthingssettleIcanconsidermynextmove.
Myonlyexcuseisthattheinsideofmyskullisaswarmofbees.That’smyonlyexcuseforwhyittakesuntilI’mhalfwaytomylockertorealizethelockisn’tmine.IputonagoldYalecombinationlock.ThisisasilverweatherproofedMasterLock.Ifreeze.Iamsoscaredmykneeswon’tbend.
Myfeetrootthemselvestotheconcrete.IfeeltheCCTVcameraboringintothebackofmyneck.Ifeelsomeonewatchingmefromthedarkhalls.
Theyknew.Theyknewaboutbothmyescaperoutes.Ican’ttrustanythingthat’sinsidemylockernow.MyIDsarecompromised,theemergencycreditcard,theymaybemarkedmypapermoneyandtamperedwithmyammo.Theycouldbewatchingmerightnow.
Itearmyfeetawayfromthefloorandforcemyheavylegstoturnaroundnowbecauseiftheyknewaboutthisroutetheymightstillbehere,waitingformetoshowup.IwalkasfastasIcanonnumbfeetbecauseIcanfeelsomeoneinahoodiecomingupbehindme,pressingmetothe
lockers,butcherknifemovinglikeasewingmachineneedleinandoutofmykidneys,buttheroomisempty.
Iamaturtlewithoutitsshell,noprotection,justrawfleshexposedtotheworld.Iamroadkill.That’swhatHeathercalledmeonce.Notevenarealfinalgirl,justsomeonewhostumbledintoamonster’spath.
Noplansurvivescontactwiththeenemy,butIdidn’texpectallmyplanstofailsoquickly,socompletely.Bothmyescaperoutesoutoftownhavefailed.ItrustedJuliawithmyaddress,andshefailed.IthoughtIcoulduseRussell,andthatfailed.Ithoughtmycagewouldwork,anditfailed.IthoughtIwouldprotectmyfriendsbutIranawayandleftJuliatodie,andIfailed,Ifailed,Ifailed.
I’msorry,Fine.
ThenextthingIknowI’monaBurbankbus.TimehasbeensplicedoutofmylifeandIdropbackintomysurroundingswithajerk.Iexamineeveryone’sshoesbutrealizethatIhavenoideawhereIam.JustwhenIneededitthemost,myfocus,myconcentration,myownbrainhasbetrayedme.
Ihittheemergencystopandgetoffandtrotdownthestreetagainsttraffic,tryingnottorun,dissolvingintothecrowd,slippingontoanOrangeLinebusjustasit’sabouttopullout.
Isitbehindatransitcop,windowsonmyleft,handrestingonmyfannypack,andIforcemybraintoslowdownandthinkaboutfacts.
Someonewasshootingatme.
Theyknewbothmyexitroutes.
Juliaisdead.
Scratchthatlastone.Nevercountafinalgirloutuntilyouseethebody.
We’vealltakendamagebeforeandkeptonticking.She’salive.Ididn’tleaveherbehindtodie.She’salive.Shehastobe.ThenIaddanotheronetothelist:
Peopleareinmyhome.
Rightnow,tacticalbootsanddutyshoesarestompingacrossmyfloors,kickingFine,shatteringhispot,crushinghisroots,lookingthroughmy
rooms.Gettingonmycomputer.Searchingforme.FourgunsafesandRussell’scorpseareenoughtogettheminterestedinwhoIam.Ineedhelp.
Ihittherequeststopbutton,getoff,andimmediatelyseetheemptystreetsandrealizeImadeamistake.I’mtooexposedouthere.Idumpmyphoneinagarbagecan,findanopenStarbucks,andgoinside.Itakeatableinbackbythebathrooms.
Insidemygobagisadisposablecellphone,fullycharged,loadedwithmycontacts.Icrackitopenandmakemycall.
“Hello.”Sheanswersonthesecondring.
“Dr.Carol,”Isay.“It’sLynnette.Someonejustattackedme.Ineedhelp.”
ShetakesitcoolerthanIthoughtshewould.
“Whereareyou?”sheasks.“I’llcomepickyouup.”
“Tellmeyouraddress,”Isay.“I’drathercometoyou.”
“I’drathernothaveyouinmyhomerightthisminute,”shesays.“Notifyou’reindanger.Pleaseunderstand.”
“Someonetriedtoshootme,”Isay.“Theyshotallofus.Me,Julia,areporter.”
“Lynnette,”shesays.“Wherearethepoliceinallthis?”
“Idon’tknow,”Itellher.“Iran.Itwas…theywereshootingatme.
Throughmywindow.”
“Andyou’resureitwasn’tjustkids?Orfireworks?”
“Juliagothit,”Isay.
“Oh,God,”Dr.Carolsays,andit’sthefirsttimeshesoundslesslikeaprofessionalandmorelikeaperson.“Isshehurt?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Iran.”
“Youran?”There’sjudgmentinhervoice.
“AfterIcalled911,”Ilie,thenliemore.“ImadesureJuliawasokayfirst.Iwouldn’tjustleaveherbleedingonmyfloor.”
ExceptIdidleaveherbleedingonmyfloor.
“Whathospitaldidtheytakeherto?”Dr.Carolasks.
“Theywereshootingatme,”Isay.“Ididn’tstickaroundtomakesmalltalkwiththeparamedics.Ididtherightthing.”
“Youdidtherightthing,”sheagrees.“Meetmeatmyoffice.Givemehalfanhourtogetthere.”
“Noway,”Isay,lookingatmybusmap.“Nowherethat’spartofyourpattern.”
Igiveheranaddressandtellhertomeetmethereinfiftyminutes.WehangupandItakeaminutetocheckmybag.I’msocaughtupinmakingsurethere’saroundinthechamberofmyM&P,checkingtheboxcutterinmypocket,takingoutmyTAPcardforthebus,thatIdon’tnoticetheshapeloomupbesidemytable.
“We’reclosinginfiveminutes,”themanagersays.Ialmostcuthim.
Instead,Iduckmyheadandnodandapologize,actinginawaythatistotallyforgettable,andIheadoutthedoorandbeginmysystem,switchingbuses,doublingback,knowingthatnow,withoutadoubt,someoneistryingtofollowme.Thatmakesiteasier.
—
I’mattheStarbucksonthecornerofMontanaand7thinSantaMonica,drinkingmysecondbottleofwater(panicisdehydrating),andit’sfulldarkwhenIseeDr.Carol’sblackAudiS5rollpast.She’stakingthecornerslow,lookingformeontheothersideofthestreet,whenIpullopenthefrontdooranddropintothepassengerseat.
“Drive,”Isay.
“Jesus,youscaredme,”shesays.
Thankfully,shepicksupspeedandwecruiseintoamazeofsuburbanhouses.
“Areyouallright?”sheasks.Idon’tanswer.“Lynnette?”
I’mcheckingtomakesuretherearenonastysurprisesinthebackseat.
“Lockthedoors,”Isay.
Thepowerlocksclunkshut,andIclickonmyseatbelt.
“Thefreewayisbetter,”Isay.“Sticktobigstreetswithouttrafficlights.
Don’tslowdownatstopsignsifyoucanavoidit.”
“Wheredoyouwanttogo?”
“Iwanttogohome,”Isay,anditsticksinmythroat,soIswallowitagain.“ButIcan’t,sojustkeepmoving.”
“Whathappened?”sheasks.
Whilewegetonthe10,Itellhereverything.WhenIfinishshe’squietforaminute.
“I’llcallthehospitals,seeifIcanfindoutwhathappenedtoJulia,”shesays.“CoulditbeBillyWalker?Doyouknowwhereheis?”
Hearinghisnameislikelickinganashtray.
“Uintas,solitaryconfinement,”Isay.“Icheckeveryweek.”
“Whataboutafan?”
Ishakemyhead.
“It’snotjustoneofmine,”Isay.“Adriennethismorning,thenmeandJuliathisafternoon.Someone’scomingforfinalgirls.”
“Let’snotjumptoconclusions,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Itoldyouallearlier,”Isay.“Wedon’tneedmeetingsanymorebecauseit’sover?Someonealwayswantstokillus.It’sneverover.”
“Weneedtogotothepolice,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Noway,”Isay.“GarrettP.Cannondidn’tdosquatformebefore,andhisbuddieswon’tdosquatformenowexceptlockmeinacellandmakemeasittingtarget.”
“Iknowtrustinglawenforcementisascarystepforyou,”Dr.Carolsays.“Buttheyaretherightpeopletodealwiththis.Someonetriedtokillyou,Lynnette.SomeoneshotJulia.Thisisserious.”
“Iownalotofguns,”Isaythroughclenchedteeth.“Ihaveadeadpersoninmyhome.Someonesprayedautomaticgunfireallovermybuilding.Acop’sgoingtothinkthreethings:terrorist,terrorist,andterrorist.”
“I’lltalktothem,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Bythetimetheystopoverreactingandstartlisteningitwillbetoolate,”Isay.“Don’tyougetit?IonlygettomakeonemistakeandthenI’mdead.They’vebeenwatchingmeformonths.TheyknewwhereIwasgoingtogo.TheonlyreasonI’mnotdeadisbecauseIwastoofast.”
Ipullmylegsupontotheseatandhugmyknees.IgripthehairatmytemplessoharditfeelslikeI’mgoingtotearitout.
“Dead,dead,dead,dead,dead,”Isay.
Dr.Carolputsahandonmyarm.Iflinchandshetakesitaway.
“They’reinmyhouse,”Isay,andIhatehowmyvoicerisestoawhine.
Ipressmyforeheadtothewindowandstarttoslowlybounceitofftheglass.
“Doyouhavesomeplacetogo,Lynnette?”Dr.Carolasks.
Ithinkaboutahotel,oramotel,orabar,orachurchshelter.Ican’tgotoMarilynorDani.Notnow.Someone’souttherewaitingforustobunchupagainandmaketheirjobeasier.
“Can’twejustdrivearoundforawhile?”Iask.
I’vealwaysthoughtbetterincars.
“Lynnette,”Dr.Carolsays.“Let’sgohome,okay?Youcancometomyhouseandrestforthenight.We’llcalltheothergirlsandmakesurethey’reinformedifyoufeelthat’simportant,andinthemorningwe’llsitdownandtalkthisthrough.”
“Who’sinyourhouse?”
“It’sjustSkyeandPax,”shesays.
“Men,”Isay.
“Paxiseightyearsold,”shesays.“Andwe’reluckyifSkyecomesoutofhisroomonceaday.He’salwaysonhiscomputer.I’vegotanalarmsystem,agate,andaguestroom.Comehome.”
TheonlypeopleItrustaretheotherfinalgirls.We’llalwayshaveeachother’sbacks.
ExceptforJulia.WhohadJulia’sback?
ButDr.Carolunderstandsus.She’sbeenthereforusforsixteenyears.
IfI’mgoingtotrustsomeonewho’snotoneofus,it’sher.
“Istherearoomwithnowindows?”Iask.
“Ihaveagyminthebasement,”Dr.Carolsays.
It’snotlikeIhavealotofchoices.
—
Dr.Carollivesinawhitetwo-storyhaciendainShermanOaksthat’sdesignedtosootheandcomfortyourspirit,butit’sstillgotthefullcomplementofrich-personsecurityaccessories:motion-activatedfloodlights,anautomaticgate,anindoortwo-cargarage,ADTstickerstuckeddiscreetlyinthecornersofitswindows,tastefullyconcealedcameras.Evenso,I’mgladI’llbesleepinginthebasement.
Inside,ablondkidmissingatoothhopsfromfoottofootinthekitchenwhilesuckingonaGo-Gurt.
“Mom!”hesays.“Mom!Mom!Mom!”
“Pax,”shesays.“ThisisLynnette.She’sapatientandshe’llbesleepingheretonight.”
Hestopshoppingandnarrowshiseyesatme.
“Areyoucrazy?”heasks.
“Pax!”
“Fuckoff,”Isay.
“Lynnette!”
“Mom!Shesaidabadword!”
“Pax,hush!”Dr.Carolsays.“Lynnette,thisismyhomeandmyfamily.
Youneedtoberespectfulwhileyou’rehere.”
ThewindowsoverthesinklookoutintothebackyardandIseeawallaroundit,whichisgood.Still,Iputmyselfoutofthewindow’sdirectlineofsight.
“I’msorry,”Isay,tryingtomakepeacewiththekid.Afterall,Ineedhishouseatleastforthenight.“ButI’mnotcrazyandIdon’tappreciatebeingcalledthat.”
ThekidignoresmeandhandsDr.CarolaPost-itnote.
“Mom!”hesays.“Thepolicecalled!You’resupposedtocallthisguyback!”
Dr.Caroldoesherbestnottolookatme,butkidshaveESP.
“Aretheylookingforher?”heshouts.“Issheacriminal?Issheaterrorist?”
“Pax,gototheactivityroom,”Dr.Carolsays.
“No!”hesays.“I’mnotleavingyoualonewithasuicidebomber!”
He’sgivingmeaheadache.
“Whydon’tyoushowLynnetteyourcomicbookwhileIcallthesepeopleback?”Dr.Carolsays.
NottakinghiseyesoffhismomasshedialsthenumberonthePost-itnote,Paxgrubsinhisbackpackandpullsoutasheafofpaperthat’sbeenstapledtogether.
“Here,”hesays,shovingthematme.“It’sWarGhost.Paymefivedollars.”
IignorehimandlistentoDr.Carol.
“Hello,thisisDr.CarolElliott,”shesaysonthephone.Thecomichangslimpinmyhand.“Igotacallfromthisnumber,fromOfficerFuller.
Mm-hmm…mm-hmm…that’sawful.No,Idon’tknow.Haveyoufoundher?”Shelistensforawhile,then:“Please,ifyouhearanythingatall,pleasecallmebackatthisnumberatanyhour.Igotobedlateandgetupearly.Actually,letmegiveyoumymobilephonenumber.Youcancalltheretwenty-fourhoursaday.That’sright.”
Shegetsoffthephone.
“Pax,gointheotherroom,”shesays.
“Mom,”hewhines.
“Now!”shesnaps.
HeyanksWarGhostoutofmyhand.I’mstaringatDr.Carol,waitingforthebadnews,butshe’swaitingforPaxtobetotallygone.Whenshe’sconvincedhecan’thear,sheturnstome.
“Heather’shalfwayhouseburneddown,”shesays.
“Itoldyou!”Isay,butshe’sshakingherhead.
“Theyfounddrugparaphernaliainthebasementwherethefirestarted,”
shesaid.“Noonedied,butafewpeoplearehurt.Heather’smissing.Theythinkshestartedit.”
Iwouldthinkthat,too,ifIwasn’tafinalgirl.
“They’recomingforus,”Isay.“Onebyone,they’recomingforus.WeneedtocallUintasanddouble-checkthatBillyisstillthere.Weneedtofindoutwhereallofthemare,allthemonsters.Thisisthesequeloracrossover,orIdon’tknowwhat.”
“Lynnette,youneedtocalmdown,”Dr.Carolsays.“Wedon’tknowanythingrightnow.”
“Iknoweverything!”Ishout.“Iknowwhat’shappening!Whywon’tanyonelistentome?”
“Don’tyellatmymom!”Somethingsharphitsmyleg.
IlookdownandPaxisbaringhisteethatme,grippingasharpenedpencilinonehand.Itdidn’tbreakthedenimbutI’llhaveabruise.
“Leaveheralone!”hesnarls.
Ishovehimhard,andhegoesdownonhisbutt,hismouthformingacomicalO.IlookatDr.Carolandhermouthismakinganidenticalshape.
“Ineedtobealone,”Isay,andleavetheroom.
—
Dr.Carolgivesmesomebeddingandanairmattress,andthegymlocksfromtheinside.Therearenowindows,andonceIdragtheellipticalovertoblockthedoorImakeanestinthecornerandpluginmyphone,turntheringeruploud,andslidemySmith&Wessonundermypillow.
ThenItrytofigurethisout.
Who’scomingforus?Afan?Thathastobeit.ThemonstersinourlivesareasparticularabouttheirfinalgirlsaspeopleareabouttheirStarbucksorder.Blacknonfatcampcounselorwithhighthresholdforpainandanextrashot.Adoublesoylesbianbabysitterwho’snotafraidtostabsomeoneintheeye,holdthefoam.
Buthowaretheythisorganized?Finalgirlfansarelonelyandloony.
Thekindofpeoplewhorelocatetobenearaserialkillerandwhodreamofhavingamaniac’sbaby.ThekindofpeoplewhodressedupasRickyWalkerandmarchedaroundoutsidemyhouse,whofollowedmyfostermomtomallsandtriedtostealherusedKleenexforvoodoorituals.Thesearenotlogicalthinkers.
RightbeforeIfallasleepIrealizeIknowwhoitis:allofthem.InthedarknessofthehousearoundmeIcanfeelallthemonsterscreepingthroughtheshadows.RickyandBillyWalker,sneakingdownthestairsandshushingeachother.NickShipmanstandingatthefrontdoorwithanabsent
grinonhisbigroundmoonface.TheHansensfumblingaroundinthegarbagebythebackofthehouse.TheGhostcominginthroughthegaragedoor.TeddyVolkerstandinginthelightoftherefrigerator.ThepaleDreamKinglurkingintheshadowsofthemirrorontheothersideoftheroom.
There’sasoundinthehall,andmyheartratespikes.Itakeeightdeepbreathsandtellmyselfit’sprobablythatcreepylittlekid.I’llhavetoremembertolookathiscomicbookinthemorning,checkitforsignsofaggression,seeifonedayI’llhavetoworryabouthim,too.Evenaneight-year-oldcanbedangerousifhegetsthedroponyou.
Ifeelnaked.Theyknewmyplans.Theyknewmyexits.Theywereinsidemycomputer.They’reinsidemyhouse.IfeelsoviolatedIdon’tthinkI’lleverfeelcleanagain.
IleftJuliabehind.Itwastherightthingtodo.She’dhavedonethesamething.Ididn’thavetimetoworryabouther.Ionlyhadtimetosavemyself.
Iputtwofive-poundbarbellsnexttomybed,justincase.Idon’twanttohavetoshootDr.Carol’skid.I’dratherjuststunhim.
WhenIfirstcametoL.A.,IthoughtIwasgoingtodie.MenfollowedmewhereverIwent.Istoppedleavingthehouse.Istoppedgoingtogroup.
ThentheystartedringingmydoorbellandIrealizedstayinghomewasn’tsafeeither.
DanitoldmeIshouldlearnhowtoshoot,it’dmakemefeelsafer,butI’dneverheldagunbeforeandhowcouldIgotoarange?Icouldn’tbeartohavemybacktoallthosepeople,facinganemptyfield,mytotalconcentrationfocusedonatinypapertargetseventy-fivefeetaway.
AdriennetoldmeRedLakewasrenovatinganditstillhaditsriflerange.
Shedrovemethere.
Weweretheonlytwopeopleonthepropertyandwestayedforthreedays,andeverydayIunloadedroundsuntilmywristswentnumbwhileAdriennesatbesidemeinherwhitesweaterandjeans,wearingredearprotectors,watchingmyback.Shedidn’tbelieveingunsbutshebelievedinme.
Adrienneisdead.Juliamightbedead.Heathermightbedead.Intheblinkofaneye,halfmylifeisgone.
Thehardthingaboutsleepingonanairmattressisthatwhenyoucry,thewaterpools.It’sgotnowhereelsetogo.
—“TheSlasherFranchisesRanked”byRussellThorn,RueMorguemagazine,August2010THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPVI:
TheNextGeneration
Idon’tsleep,Idon’tclosemyeyes,butsomehowIgointoatrancewheretimeseemstobetakenoutinchunks.Idon’tseethesuncomeup.Idon’thearbirdsstartchirping.Butthenit’smorningandsomeoneistryingtoopenthedoor,bangingitintotheellipticalmachineoverandoverlikeaconfusedrobot.
donk…donk…donk…
I’mawake,onmyfeet,guninmyhand,whenDr.Carolsticksherheadaroundthedoor.
“Lynnette—oh,Jesus!”Sheducksbackaroundthedoor,leavingitopen.
“Areyoualone?”Iask.
“Didyoubringahandgunintomyhome?”shecallsfrombehindthedoor.
“…Yes?”
“Lynnette,areyoustillpointingthathandgunatme?”sheasks.
“No,”Ilie.
“Iappreciatethatyoufeelthreatened,”shesays.“Butmychildrenareinthishouse.Youneedtoletmelockthatweaponinmysafewhileyou’rehere.”
“I’llputthesafetyonandkeepitinmybag,”Isay.“ButI’mnotlockingitup.”
Iputitinmyfannypackbutdon’tputthesafetyon.Thatextrahalfsecondmightbethedifferencebetweenlivinganddying.ThenIdragtheellipticalawayfromthedoorway.Itfeelsheavierthanthenightbefore.
Dr.Carolstandsinthehallwearingasoftcharcoalsweaterandlightgrayslacks.She’salreadydoneherhairandmakeup.
“Showme,”shesays.
Iunzipmyfannypackandshowherthegun.She’soneofthosepeoplewhohasneverheldagunbefore,sobeingthisclosetoonemakeshernervous.Shedoesn’tevencheckwhetherthesafetyisactuallyonbeforeIzipmybagbackup.
“Icametoseeifyouwantbreakfast,”shesays.
Upstairsinthekitchen,there’samanwithblondstubbleandbedheadstandingatthesinkinsweatpants,dirtywhitesocks,andalacrosseT-shirt,tryingtoopenapackageofbaconwiththetipofafoot-longcarvingknife.
“Letmedothat,honey,”Dr.Carolsays,goingoverandtakingtheknifefromhim.
HewatchesherdohisworkforhimandIrealizethathe’sherotherson,Skye.Seeinghowoldheismakesmefeelold.He’sstringy,notmuchbodyfat.Heprobablyruns.He’stallerthanIam,longerreach,goodstamina;IcouldtakehimbutI’dneedtogetinmyfirsthitsfastandmakethemcount.ThesearethethingsInotice,notthathe’sattractiveforhisage,notthathe’sgotagoodchin.
“Whyareyoustillhere?”Paxasks,materializingontheothersideofthecounter,lippingapieceoftoast.
“Becausesheisourguest,”Dr.Carolsays.“Elbows.”
Hetakeshiselbowsoffthecounterandgoesbacktosuckinghistoast.
“Notmyguest,”hesays.
“Notmine,either,”Skyesaysfromthesink.“Ididn’tknowyouletpatientsintothehouse.”
“Youbothneedtoberespectful,Skye,”Dr.Carolsays,finallygettingthebaconopenandtakingittothestove.
“Makesureyoucookitlongenough,”Paxsays.“Extracrispy.”
It’sdegradingtowatchthewomanwhohauledusbackfromthebrinkreducedtothestatusofwaitressforherchildren.Eventuallytheywon’thavetheirmothertobetheirshort-ordercookandlaundressandmaid.
They’llhavetotricksomepoorwomanintomarryingthemtogetallthatforfreeagain.
Dr.Carolmakesscrambledeggs,bacon,wholewheattoast,andmangosmoothies.Istickwithfruit.IprefermyfoodprepackagedandwhenI’minanunsafeenvironmenttheclosestIcangetisfruit.
EveryonesitsatthetableexceptPax,whostaysonhisstool,spinninglazilyfromsidetoside,smackinghistoastwithhismouthopensoIcanseegummybrowngobsofbread.He’slookingathisbrotherwhenhestartstosmirk.Skyesmiles.
“Whatisit?”Dr.Carolasks,wantingtobeletinonthejoke.
“Paxhassomethingtosay,”Skyesays.
“No,”Paxsays,shakinghishead,clappingonehandoverhismouth.
“Don’tbeshy,Pax,”Dr.Carolencourageshim.
Paxlooksoveratmeandtriestokeepastraightface.
“Nicerack,”hesays,thenfallsoffhischairgiggling.
Somethinginsidemychesttightens.
“Pax!”Dr.Carolsays,genuinelyshocked.“Thatisnotnice.”
Ihaven’tseenoneofthoseT-shirtsinalongtime,butclearlysomeone’sbeengooglingme.Irefusetoletthisuselesslittleboygetundermyskin.
“It’sallright,”IsaytoDr.Carol.ThenIlevelmygazeonPax.“Youwanttoseethescars?Youwanttoseehowfunnytheylook?”
Dr.Caroldoesn’tknowhowtonavigatethissituation.Paxsenseshismom’sdiscomfortandstopslaughing.
IcrossmyarmsatthewristandgrabthehemofmyT-shirt.“Idon’tmindshowingyouifyou’rethatinterested.”
“Goupstairsandgetreadyforschool,Pax,”Dr.Carolsays.
Weallwatchhimgo.Atthebottomofthestairshelooksback,seesusallwatchinghim,thenturnsandrunsupstairs.
“Ido,”asoftvoicesays.
Skyeislookingatme.
“I’msorry,”hesays.“WhenMomtoldmewhoyouwereIgoogledyouandPaxsaw.”
“Youcannottellanyofyourfriendsthatsheishere,”Dr.Carolsays.
“Duh,”Skyesays.
Istand.
“Lynnette,Idon’twantyoutodothis,”Dr.Carolsays.
IturnaroundandliftmyT-shirttojustbelowmybreasts.
Thescarsonmylowerbackaretheworst.They’retheonesIshowSkye.Ifeelhiseyesonme.Heletsoutapuffofair.
“Whyisitsomessy?”heasks.
“Thebrowtineandthebayantlerwerewhattookmyweight,”Isay,facingawayfromhim,speakingtothewindow.“TheroyalantlerdugoutpiecesofmewhileIswungthere.”
“Whatdiditfeellike?”heasks.
Idropmyshirtandturnaround.Myscarsusuallyshutpeoplerightup.
I’mimpressedhe’sstilltalking.Hismom’sfaceispale.
“Ithurt,”Isay.“Anditwashumiliating.Butafterthefirstfivehours,thepainstartedtoseemnormal.”
“That’senoughofthiskindoftalk,”Dr.Carolsays.
Thethreeofusgobacktoeating,butIcatchSkyesneakingglancesatme.Afterwe’redone,hedisappearsupstairstohisroom.BothheandPaxlefttheirplatesforDr.Caroltorinseandputinthedishwasher.Withoutmycomputer,withoutmygunstoclean,withoutmysystemsandmyschedule,Idon’tknowwhoIam.Istandinthecorner,tryingnottolookawkward.
It’sareliefwhenDr.Carolfinishescleaningupafterhersonsandsays,
“Let’sgotomyoffice.”
It’sasunnyextensionwithtoomanywindowsbuiltontothebackofthehouse,lookingoutontotheirwalledgardenfilledwithabunchofbamboo.ThegiantwindowsandFrenchdoorsmakemeverynervous.
Iperchonanottoman,puttingmybackagainsttheonesmallscrapofwall,tryingtoseeallaroundme.Dr.Carolsinksintoanarmchairandlaysdownthelaw.
“IapologizeforPax’sbehavior,”shesays.“He’seightyearsoldanddoesn’tunderstandempathy.ButIdonotwantyouinteractingwithmyboysthewayyoudid.”
“Heasked,”Isay.
“Andyouliftedyourshirt,”shesays.“Iknowthisisachallengingtime,butthisismyhouse,myfamily,andmyrules.Ifyoucan’trespectthat,I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutoleave.”
Ithinkaboutmyoptions.Therearen’tmany.
“I’llstay,”Isay.
“And?”shesays.
“I’llrespectyourboundaries.”
“Thankyou.”
She’sonlyafewyearsolder,butshe’sbeentreatingmeforsomanyyearsthatIlethertalktomelikeamom.Iwanthertobehappywithme.Idon’teverwanttolosegroup.
We’reinterruptedbysoothingdigitalwindchimes.
“Excuseme,”Dr.Carolsays.
Shepicksupherphoneandhasamutteredconversation.Iknowit’snotgoodbecauseshelooksatmethreetimes.
“IsitHeather?”Iaskwhenshehangsup.
Shestaresatthehardstrawcarpetbetweenusforaminute,thenraiseshereyesandstudiesmyface.It’sclearshedoesn’tlikewhatshesees.Thenherexpressionshiftsbackandshe’sgoodoldDr.Carolagain,publicmaskstrappedontight.
“Danishotapoliceofficer,”shesays.“She’sincustody.”
“What?”Isay.
Ifeelslow,Ifeelstupid,Ifeellikeprey.
“I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutoletmeholdontoyourfirearm.”
“Don’tyouseehowmuchdangerwe’rein?”Iask.“FirstAdrienne,thenJuliaandHeather,nowDani?”
“Whetherornottheseeventsareconnected,”Dr.Carolsays,“Iwon’thaveaweaponinmyhome.”
“No,”Isay.
Shesitsupstraight,meetingmyeyes,goingintoherprofessionalmode.
“LetmelockituporI’llhavetoaskyoutoleave,”shesays.
I’mhyperventilating.Iputmyheadbetweenmyknees.Itrytorelaxmythroat.Itrytotakedeepbreaths.I’llbeexposed.I’llbedefenseless.ButIcan’tleavethishouse.It’llbeworseoutthere.WhathappenedtoDani?
Imakemythroatmusclesrelax,Ipulloxygenintomylungs,andfinally,Itakemygunoutofmyfannypackandhanditover,andthenIexcusemyselftothebathroomandgodownstairs,whereIunzipthebottomcompartmentinmygobagandtakeoutmylittle.22andhideitinmyfannypack.Oneisnone.
WhenIcomebackupstairsshebringsmeuptospeed.
Acoupleofweeksago,theNewJerseyStatePolicereopenedtheirfilesonDani’scaseforsomereason.TheymusthavefoundsomethingbecausetheycontactedtheFBI,whocontactedDani’slocalsheriff’sdepartment,whoassuredthemtheyhadagoodrelationshipwithDani.ThismorningatthecrackofdawnthesherifftooktheFBIouttoDani’sranchandaskedhertocomewiththemforquestioning.Theydidn’tcountonMichelle.
Michelle’scanceriskillingher.ThewayDanitellsit,thingstookaturntwomonthsagoandnoweverydayisadeathwatch.She’sluckyiftheycansqueezeoutagoodhalfhourhere,atolerabletwentyminutesthere,andthat’showDanispendsherdays,tryingtopatchtogetherasmuchlucidtimeasshecanwhilethewomanshelovesdies.They’vebeentogetherfornineteenyears,andthereisnowayDaniisgoingtoletherselfbemovedfromMichelle’sbedsideforanythingotherthangroup.
Thesheriffsuggestedtheyinterviewherinthelivingroom.TheFBIwasn’thavingit.Shewascomingbacktothestation,period.DanihadjustgottenbackfromL.A.Shetoldthemtogetoffherproperty.Whentheydidn’t,shewentbackinsideandgothergun.Shestartedshooting.
Idon’tbelieveDanishotacop.She’salaw-and-ordervaluesvoterwholetsthelocalsheriff’sdepartmentuseacornerofherpropertyfortheirannualbarbecue.Shesetsupashootingrangeoutthereforthemandtheyrunandgunontimedcourses,plinkingsheetmetaltargetsshecutsforthemwhileMichelleroastsapig.Copsareherheroes,andIrememberhowhardshetook9/11.SoIhaveahardtimebelievingsheshotanyoneinlawenforcement.
Dr.Caroldoesn’tquitebelieveiteither,sosheworksthephoneuntilshegetstherealstory.
“Shedidn’tshootanyone,”shefinallysayswithasighofrelief.“Therewasconfusion.Sheshotintotheair.TheyTaseredher.Iknewshewouldn’tpointaweaponatpoliceofficers.”
Itturnsoutthatisn’ttheonlygoodnews.
“AndJuliaisalive,”shesays.“Shewasshotthreetimesandshe’sintheICU,butshe’snotawakeyet.”
“Iknewshewasalive,”Isay,andfeelmyshouldersrelax.Ihadn’trealizedhowscaredIwas.
Dr.Carolmoveson.
“IhavetotellyousomemorebadnewsaboutDani.Thereasontheyreopenedhercase.Someoneelseconfessedtothecrime.”
Imeethereyes.
“Theyneedtoputheronsuicidewatch,”Isay.
Dr.Carolnods.
“I’llmakeacall.”
—
Killingishard.Killingyourbrotherisevenharder.Findingoutyoukilledyourbrotherfornoreasonisthemostimpossiblethingofall.
Dr.CarolisabletogetthroughtosomeoneandtheymoveDanitoanobservationcell.Shefightsthemalltheway,screamingforMichelle.ThecopssentanambulanceandmovedMichelletohospice.Inhercondition,Ican’timaginethataddedmuchtoherlifeexpectancy.Theylovethatranch,andDanipromisedMichelleshe’ddiethere.There’snothingDanihatesmorethanbreakingherpromises.ShemustbeinHell.
It’safamiliarplaceforher.
Backintheeighties,Dani’solderbrother,Nick,likedtokillanimals.
Hewasbigandhardtocontrolandhethoughtitwasfunnytohurtthingsthatweresmallerthanhim.WhenDaniwasseven,Nickhurttheirbabysitteronenight.Hehurthersobadlyhegotsenttoaninstitution.HerparentstookDanitovisitonhiseighteenthbirthdaywhenshewasten.She
sayshewassodopeduponThorazinehecouldn’tevenswallowandthefrontofhisshirtwassoakedtransparentwithdrool.Sheneverwentback.
“Iwasakid,butthatwasnoexcuse,”shesaidingroup.“Ishouldhavegoneback.”
Shedidn’tseeNickagainuntilshewasseventeen.Astormknockedoutthepowerattheinstitutionandabunchofinmatesescaped.Nickstolesomeoverallsandmadehiswaybacktotheirprettylittlesuburb,wonderingwhyhislittlesisternevercametoseehim.Hehadamask.Hehadaknife.ItwasHalloween.
Daniwasbabysittingthatnight,savingmoneyforherget-out-of-townfund.BythenshealreadyknewshewasgayandwantedthehelloutofNewJersey,thehellofftheentireEastCoast.ShewantedtoheadfortheWildWestwheretheairwasclear,thehorsesranfree,andmaybeshecouldfindarodeoromance.
Wearinghismask,Nickworkedhiswaythroughtheirneighborhood,lookingforDani.Alongthewayhekilledfourpeopleandtwodogs.
Someonetoldmehetriedtoeatoneofthedogs.HefinallyfoundDani.Sheputupafight,trashedthehouse,stabbedhimwithhisownknife.Copsshowedupatthelastminuteandshothimsomanytimeshewentoutthesecond-storywindow.Theycouldn’tfindhisbody.
Wegetsubjectedtosequels.That’swhatmakesourguysdifferent,that’swhatmakesthemmonsters—theykeepcomingback.Dani’sbrothercamebackthatsamenight.
Thecopstookhertothehospital,dopedherup,andleftherinaroomwithacopatthedoor.NickwentthroughthemlikethewrathofGod.
Elevenpeopledied.That’swhatalwaysupsetDanithemost.Theyweredoctors,nurses,cops,EMTs.Thesewerepeoplewhorantowardnaturaldisastersandcaraccidents,notaway.AccordingtoDani,someofthemthrewthemselvesinfrontofNicktobuyhertimetoescape.Shesaystheyneverhesitated.
Outinthehospital’sparkinggarage,DanifoundNick.Hewaswalkingdownoneoftheramps,comingrightather,nomask,justplodding
forward,smilinglikeanangel.Shebeathisbrainsoutwithatireiron.Shehadnochoice.
Nick’sfansformedaposthumousdeathcultaroundtheirfallengod.
Overtheyears,they’vespreadtherumorthatthemaskedmanwhocommittedthemurdersandDani’sbrotherweretwodifferentpeople.
“Doyouthinkit’strue?”IonceaskedDr.Carol.
“It’snotmyplacetospeculate,”she’dsaid.
ThatwasDani’snightmare:she’dkilledthewrongperson.Oneoftheinmateswhogotoutoftheinstitutionthatnightwasneverfound.HarryPeterWarden,abigguy,aboutNick’ssize,withahistoryofviolence,bed-wetting,hurtingneighborhoodpets.WhatifthisguyandNicktraveledtohersuburbtogether?Nicktellingthisguyabouthissister,abouthowhewantedtoseeher,talkingaboutherallthewayhome.There’snowaytobesure.Thekillernevertookoffhismask.
WhatstuckinDani’sheadiswhatifthatwasjustNickcomingtoherintheparkinggarage?WhatifthatwasjustNick,veinsstillfullofThorazine,stumblingforward,wantinghissistertotakehimsomeplacewarmandgivehimachickennoodleCup-a-Soupliketheirmomusedto?Whatifthatwasherbrother,comehomeatlast,wantingtoaskwhyshenevercametovisit,andshebeathimtodeathwithatireiron?
Whenshetoldusthat,itwastheonlytimeIeversawDanicry.
Howdidanyoneknowaboutthis?HowcouldsomeoneknowthiswasDani’sworstfear?
Theyknewbecauseshetalkedaboutitingroup.
Theyknewbecausetheyreaditinabook.
—
MusicrattlesSkye’sdoorinitsframe.Afteralotofirritatingconversation,Dr.Carolhasconvincedherselfthatshe’sconvincedmethatthebestthingistogotothepolice.WithAdriennedead,Daniinlockup,Juliainthehospital,andHeathermissing(also:suspectedofarson),thesoonerwestartsortingthingsoutwithlawenforcementthebetter.ThepolicewillhavequestionsandIshouldcooperate.Iagreed.
“I’mfried,”Isaid.“Letmegetmyheadtogethertodayandwe’llgofirstthingtomorrowmorning.”
Dr.Carolhuggedme.
“Iwon’tdoanythingtocreateasituationwhereyoumightgethurt,Lynnette,”shesaid.“I’mgoingtomakesureyou’resafe.”
Ihavenointentionofbeingherecomesunup.
Skye’sdoorisn’tlockedanditswingsopenandhismusicrunsovermelikeatruck.I’mlostonafreewayofbassbeatsandAuto-Tune.Thenoisebruisestheair.Istepinsideandclosethedoorbehindme.
Itsmellslikecleaningproductsinhere:Febrezeandcarpetshampoo.
Nounwashed-boyfunkdespitethedirtyclothestossedalloverthefloor,piledhighinonecorner,spillingfromanopenduffelbag,jumbledintodriftsonhisbed.Hiscarpetissomeneutralcolor—Sisal?Seashore?
Sandstone?—andSkyeisathisdesk,shirtoff,backtome,worshippinghiscomputer.Theroomisdarkexceptforhishalogendesklamp.Ishouthisnamebutmyvoicegetslostinthemusic.Howcanpeopleletthemselvesbesovulnerable?I’vegotamirrortapedtomycomputersoIcanalwaysseewhat’sbehindme.
Itlookslikehe’srubbinghisstomach,andwhenIgetcloserIrealizehisshortsarepulleddowntohisknees.ViolenceIcanhandle,butthismakesmymouthgodryandmypalmsprickle.Ithinkit’sanaturalreactionwhenyouseeyourtherapist’stwenty-six-year-oldsonwhackingoff.
I’msuddenlyextremelyconsciousofmybodybeneathmydirtyclothes.Idon’tknowwhethertotaphimontheshoulderorturnaroundandwalkoutoftheroom.WhileI’mconsideringmyoptionshecatchesmeoutofthecornerofhiseyeandjumpsoutofhischair,electrified,scramblingtocoverhimself,backpedalingawayfromme,legstangledupinhisshorts,handsoverhisgroin,losinghisbalance,armswindmilling,andhelandshardonhisass,penisfloppingallovertheplace.
“It’sokay!”Ishout,holdingmypalmsouttoshowI’munarmed.
Ican’thearwhathe’ssayingoverthemusicbutIcanseehislipsmakingtheshapesfor“JesusChrist!”and“Getthefuckoutofmyroom!”
HewriggleshisshortsupoverhishipsandthrowsonadirtyT-shirtthatsaysPabloHunting&Bait.Hepicksuptheremoteandmagic-wandsthemusicdownuntilit’sbarelyrattlingmyteeth.
“I’mtellingmymom,”hesays.
Inoticehe’snotthrowingmeout,though.That’satwenty-six-year-oldforyou:strangewomancatchesyouchokingthechicken,butyoudon’twanttogoall-inonoutragebecausemaybeyou’llgetlucky.
“Doessheknowyou’reintothiskindofthing?”Iask.
Hefurrowshisbrowlikehedoesn’tknowwhatI’mtalkingaboutuntilInodathiscomputerandhischeeksturnredandhelungesacrosshisroomandslapshislaptopclosed.I’llneverstopbeingsurprisedatwhattheaverageAmericanmalefindsarousing.
“Whatdoyouwant?”hesays,pissedoffbecausehe’sembarrassed.
Ican’thavethat.Ineedhimhelpingmeofhisownfreewill.
“Trustme,”Isay.“I’veseenthingsthatmakeyourpornlooklikeDoratheExplorer.”
“Willyoupleasenotsay”—hisvoicedropsquieter—“?‘yourporn’?”
I’vebeenthinkingallmorning.Idon’tlikeaskinganyone,butIfigureifhe’sDr.Carol’ssonandhe’srighthereinthehouse,I’dbeafoolnottotry.AndIneedtogethimbackonmyside.
“Areyouactuallygoodwithcomputers?”Iask.
“Isetupthewebsiteandalltheemailserversformymom’sbusiness,”
hesays.
“Ineedyoutodrivemetomyapartment,helpmesneakinside,andtellmewho’sgottenintomine,”Isay.
“Why?”
“IneedyoutodrivebecauseIdon’thaveacar,Ineedyoutohelpmesneakinsidebecausepolicearegoingtobewatchingmybuilding,andIneedyoutotellmewho’sgottenintomycomputerbecauseIneedtoknowwho’stryingtokillmyfriends.Idon’texpectyoutodoitforfree.”
“Howmuch?”heasks.
“Fivehundreddollars.”
“Fine,”hesays.“Meetyoudownstairsatten.Getout.”
Andheturnsthevolumebackupuntilthejellyinsidemyeyeballsshakes.
ItrustDr.CarolasmuchasItrustanyone,andthatextendstoherkids.
Iwaituntilshetakesacallinherkitchen,thenIgobacktothatsunnyextensionandpopthelockonherofficedoorwithanoldlibrarycardIhangontoforthiskindofthing.Ifshecan’tsetupherownemailI’massumingshestillkeepspaperfiles,andsureenoughtherearefilingcabinetsunderherwraparounddesk.
Igothroughthetopdrawerimmediatelytotherightofherchairfirst,assumingit’swhereshekeepsherfamilypapers,andit’snicetoberight.
Elliott,Pax,followedbyElliott,Skye.IfI’mgoingtobecoopedupinSkye’scartonight,IwanttoknowwhatkindofthreatI’mfacing.
Skye’sgotacollegetranscripttoUCBerkeley,nodisciplinaryactions,noarrests.NoprescriptionmedicationsexceptPatanaseforhayfever.Nopsychiatrictreatmentexceptsometimeworkingwithaspeechtherapistasakidbecausehecouldn’tsayhisRs.He’sclean,orascleanasmenget.He’lldo.
Itakeaminutetolookthroughherotherdrawers.Patientnames,lastnamefirst,oneaftertheother:Dier,Sandra;Klein,Deborah;Mason,Tamara;Moraine,Violet;Sanchez,Vera.They’reallwomen,whichisn’tsostrangesinceDr.Carolspecializesinvictimsofviolenceandthat’stheonlythingwomeneverseemtogettoomuchof.Iflipthroughafewandseethatthey’reallwomenwhoencounteredamonsterbutdidn’tkillhim.Fetalfinalgirls.
Islidethedrawerclosedandcheckoutthedesk.Overithangframeddiplomas,citations,picturesofhershakingArnoldSchwarzenegger’shand,thecoverofTimemagazinefeaturingherandAdrienneandJulia.Ididn’tdopressthewaythethreeofthemdidbackintheday.Thethoughtofbeingexposedtoeveryone’seyeslikethatmakesmyskincrawl.
NexttoherPCsitsafilerackholdingasinglemanilafolder.Iflickitopenandseeafamiliarfacepaper-clippedtotheinsidecover:Fugate,Stephanie,grinningthewayshe’llnevergrinagain.Somethingaboutthatsmile,sodorkyandunguarded,flipsaswitchandI’mseeingGillian’s
smile,andItrynottothinkaboutGilliananymore,Itrytokeepheroutofmymindatallcosts,becausethenIthinkaboutwhathappenedtoher,andthenIhaveeverythingbackexactlythewayitwasandI’moutofheroffice,lockingthedoor,beforeIstartcryingagain.
Isitinthegymlookingatthewallacrossfromme,tryingnottothinkaboutGillianandhowIcouldn’tsaveher,definitelynotthinkingaboutrunningawayandleavingJuliabehindonmyfloor.Ithinkaboutthisforalong,longtime.Ican’tmakeamoveuntiltonight,andthetimejustevaporateswhenIstartthinkingaboutallthewaysI’vefailedthepeopleIknow.WhenPaxbangsonmydoorandasksifI’mcomingtodinnerIaskhimtotellhismomI’mgoingtobedearly.Bigdaywiththecopstomorrow.
—
Iknowwe’reDr.Carol’sbusiness,butseeingthosefilesmakesmefeellikeI’macollector’sitem,alimited-editionactionfigure,abutterflypinnedtoaboard.IskimmedFugate,Stephanie’sfilebeforeIputitback.
ShewasatRedLakebecausethreeyearsago,whenshewasthirteen,herschooltenniscoachstartedpoisoninghisplayers,obsessedwithhischampionracquetslinger,andFugate,Stephaniefigureditoutduringameetinginhisofficebeforehecouldgiveherafataldose.RedLakewasn’therfirstcrisis,itwashersequel.She’slikeusnow.Poorkid.AnotherdollinDr.Carol’scollection.
Whenmywatchsays9:57p.m.,Icreepoutintothehall,gobagovermyshoulders,fannypackaroundmywaist.IcanhearDr.Carolinthebackofthehouseonherphone,talkingtosomeoneinclear,confidenttones.HervoicefadesasImakemywaytothesidedoorwhereSkyewaits.
“Ready?”hewhispers.
Ilookdown.He’swearingheavyblacktacticalboots,waytooclunkyandnoisyforsneakingoutofthehouse.
“Changeshoes,”Iwhisper.
“They’remyUnderArmours,”hewhispersback.“They’rebadass.”
Irollmyeyes.Boysandtheirtoys.Hepopsthesidedoorandwebothlisten,butDr.Carol’svoicekeepsechoingthroughthekitchenuninterrupted.That’sagoodsign.Weslipintothegarage.HisbootsmakeexactlyasmuchnoiseasIexpected.
“Hey!”ashrillvoicesaysbeforeIcanclosethekitchendoorbehindme.“Where’reyougoing?”
It’sPax.Istartclosingthedoorinhisface,buthegrabsit.
“Areyousneakingout?Areyouguysgoingonadate?”
“Zipit,”Iwhisper.
ButIdon’tknowwhattodoafterthat.Hithim?Tiehimupandgaghim?Iturntohisbrother.
“DonottellMom,”SkyewhispersatPax.
Thelittlecreep’seyessharpenintotwoblackpinpricks.
“What’sitworthtoyou?”hewhispers.
Atleasthe’swhisperingnow.
“You’dbettergivehimsomething,”Skyetellsme.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Iask.
Paxbouncesfromtoetotoe,turninghisheadaroundtocheckouttheinteriorofhishouse,andthenheturnsbacktomewithajack-o’-lanterngrin.
“Buymybook,”hesays,wavingthecomicbookhetriedtopushonmeearlierintheday.
“How’sfivedollars?”Iwhisper,reachingintomywallet.
“How’sahundred?”hesays.
Igivehimalookbuthe’sserious.IlookatSkye,whoshrugs.Helpful.
Heldransombyalittlebrother,Icountoutfivetwenty-dollarbillsandrememberwhatitfeltliketohavealittlesister.Ithurtsdeepinsidemychestandthatmakesmehatethisankle-biterevenmore.Heshovesthecomicatme;Itakeitoutofhishandandcramitintomybag.
“Sayonara,suckers!”Helaughs.
“Let’sgobeforehechangeshismind,”Skyesays,andwewalkoutofDr.Carol’sgarageintothenight.
—ScreamingVirginsandMacheteMonsters:TheMakingoftheSlashersbyJohnathanStokes,2008THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPVII:
SonoftheFinalGirls
I’dreallypreferitifyoudidn’tsitonthefloor,”Skyesays,shiftinggears.
I’mfoldedintothelegwellofthepassengerseat,kneesatmychin,backpressedagainstthedoor,theglovecompartmentshovingmyheadforward.Thereareeyesoutside,lookingforme.I’mnottakinganychances.
“It’snotupfordebate,”Isay.
Skyesighsandkeepsdriving,headlightsfromoncomingcarsstrokinghislongfacefromrighttoleft.Righttoleft.Ridingincarsalwaysmakesmesleepy,bouncingmyhead,makingmyeyelidsheavy,fillingmychestwithsleep-smell.
Hemakesaright-handturnandthedoorhandledigsintomyback.Mygobagisontheseat,partiallyunzipped,andmyhandrestsinsideholdingmy.22.Theroughgripfeelssweaty.
“Whatkindofstuff?”Skyeasks.
“What?”Isay.
“Inmyroomyousaidyou’dseenstuffthatmakesthestuffIwaslookingatlooklikeDoratheExplorer,”hesays.“Likewhat?”
That’soneofthewarningsigns,abnormalsexualinterests.I’mnotsleepyanymore.Imakesuremygripissecureonmyweapon.
“Sorry,”hesays.“Thatsoundedpervy.”
Heflickshiseyesdowntomeandgivesanembarrassedhalfsmile.IrememberhowashamedIfeltofeverysinglethingthatcameoutofmymouthwhenIwasonlyalittleyoungerthanheisnow.Icuthimabreak.
“There’saguynamedKennethHampson,”Isay.“HeworkedBoyScoutcampsoutsideLaredounderthenametheDesertReaper.He’sgotascamgoinginprisonwherehesellsvialsofhissemenunderthenameReaperSeed.”
“No!”Skyesays.“Getout!”
“Aguardsneaksitoutinhisthermos,”Isay.“Thensellsitonline.”
“Howdoyouknow?”heasks.
“There’sawholeworldoutthere,”Isay.“Everyonewantsapieceofthesepsychos.Theycallitmurderabilia.Dirtfromthegravesoftheirvictims.ThepromdressColleenvanDeusenwaswearingwhentheKnightinWhiteSatinchoppedoffherhead.Thatsoldforeightthousanddollars.”
“Howdopeoplegetawaywithit?”heasks.
“Herparentsaretheoneswhosoldthepromdress,”Isay.“Sometimesyouneedthemoneymorethanyouneedtolivewithyourself.”
“Haveyoueverdonethat?”heasks.
It’safairquestion,butI’mangry.He’sstuckhisfingerinawound.Icounttofivetocalmdown.
“No,”Ilie.
“Youlikethisstuff,”hesays.It’sastatement,notaquestion,andthere’sjudgmentinhisvoice,justlikehismom.
Thecar’stakingacurveandthenhe’stwistinghisshouldersaroundtowatchtrafficbeforehemerges.Nowwe’removingsofastthatIhavetoshouttobeheardovertheengine.
“TellmehowIchosethis,”Isay.“TellmehowIpickedthislife.Iwasmindingmyownbusinessandamonstercamethroughmydoor.NotbecauseIignoredtheKeepOutsignsandsnuckintotheoldasylum,notbecauseIbuiltmyhouseontopofanIndianburialmound.Ididn’t‘askforit,’thiswasdonetome.”
“Yeah,”hesays,loudly.“Butyoukeepdwellingonit.Imean,Momsaysthishappened,like,ahundredyearsago.Youcouldmoveon.”
Mybackiskillingme.ThewayI’msittingcrushesmyleftkidney,whichhasn’tbeeningreatshapeeversinceRickyWalkerstoppedby.Ifighttheurgetohaulmyselfupintothepassengerseat.
“You’reright,”Isay.“Noneofushavetobedefinedbytheworstthingthateverhappenedtoher.Unfortunately,thosethingshaveabadhabitofcomingbackandtryingtokillusagain.Afterawhile,youstarttorealizethatyourlifeisn’tthethingthathappensbetweenthemonsters,yourlifeisthemonsters.”
“Butyoudon’thavetolookataguysellinghisjizzonline,”hesays,makingaleft.Ittakessomepressureoffmypoorkidney.I’mholdingmypistolwithmyleftarmandmyshoulderburns.
“Doyoureadthenewspaper?”Iask.
“No,”hesayswithcontempt.
“Onlinenews?”Iask.
“Yeah,”hesays.
“Why?”Isay.“Noneofthatstuffisgoingtohappentoyou.Ifyoudidn’tknowaboutDeepwaterHorizonyou’dgetthroughyourdayjustfine.
Whybother?”
“BecauseIwanttoknowwhat’sgoingonintheworld,”hesays.
“Exactly,”Isay.
Hethinksaboutit,thenshakeshishead.
“It’snotthesamething,”hesays.BeforeIcanpointouttohimthatit’sexactlythesamething,hesays,“We’recomingtoyourstreet.”
Hetakesaright.Kidneypinch.
“Cruisebyslow,”Isay.“LookforanyvanswithTVstationlogosonthesideorbigantennas.”
He’sdrivingtooslow,twistinghisheadfromsidetosidetooconspicuously,buthe’stheonlypartnerI’vegot.Ijusthopehedoesn’tgetspottedandblowitforbothofus.Idon’twanttodie,andIdon’twantDr.
CaroltofindoutI’vedraggedherkidintothismess.
“Threevans,”hesays.“KTTV,KTLA,andoneunmarked,butthey’reallparkedtogether.”
“Okay,”Isay.“Nowkeeplookingforanylate-modelfour-doorsedanswithtwomensittinginsidedoingnothing.”
We’realmostattheendoftheblock.
“Thereitis!”hewhisper-shouts.“GrayPontiacBonneville.Twoguys,oneblack,onewhite,drinkingRedBull.”
“Keepdriving,”Isay.“Takearightattheendoftheblock.Don’tspeedup,don’tslowdown.Justcruisethrough.”
HedoeswhatItellhimandIguidehimtotheparkinglotoftheapartmentsbehindmybuilding.Ireachupandunlatchthedoor,thenhaulmyachingbonesout.ThefirstthingIdoisscanthelottomakesurewe’realone.LikeIexpected,noonethoughttoputanyoneoutbackwherethesoledoorcanonlybeopenedfromtheinside.Itransfermypistoltomyfannypacksoit’seasiertoreach.
“Youhadaguninmycar?”heasksindisbelief.
“Inmybag,”Isay.
“Wasitpointedatme?”
“No,”Ilie.
“Youtotallyhaditpointedatme!”hesays.
Theorangesodiumstreetlightsturnhisfaceintoapumpkinandhiseyesintopandacirclesofshadow.IgrabaTraderJoe’sbagoutofhisbackseat.
“Manup,”Isay.“Here’swhatIneedyoutodo.Takesomecrapfromyourcarandfillthisbag.Walkaroundthebuildingandgoinmyfrontdoor.
Here’sthekeys.Don’trubberneck,don’tpause,don’tlookaround.Walklikeyoubelongthere,sortofbored,sortofbossy.Taketheelevatortotwo,thencomedownthebackstairsandusethistoopenthefiredoor.”
IhuntaroundandfindthepaintscraperwhereItosseditbehindthebuildingyesterday.
“Youweregoingtoshootme,”hesays.
“Youwanttherestofyourmoney?”Iask.
I’veonlypaidhimtwohundreddollarssofar.Henods.Ipeeloffthebills.
“Makesureyoudon’tpressthealarmbarwhenyouopenthebackdoor,”Isay.“Repeatitbacktome.”
Hedoes,andthen,bagcracklingbyhisside,hewalksaroundthebuilding.Hisbackisorange,thensilhouetted,andthenit’sgone.Ifhis
shortswerehighandtightinsteadoflowandbaggy,ifhishairwereshaggyandlonginsteadofstyledandclose,he’dbearingerforTommy.
Juliahadatheory.
“We’rejustthehighschoolquarterback,talkingaboutthetouchdownpasshethrewin’72,”shesaid.“Highschoolwaseveryone’sglorydays.
Forus,highschoolisalltangledupinmemoriesofourtrauma.Wehavethesamenormalnostalgicinclinationsasotherpeople,butwhenwewalkbackinourmindstothissupposedlywonderfultimewehavepeopletryingtokillus.Forus,nostalgiaandviolenceareinextricablylinked.”
IthinkaboutherintheICU,facebruised,amachinebreathingforher,spineprobablyshatteredagain.Itrynottofeellikeit’smyfault.
Somethingfumblesattheothersideofthedoor,metalscrapesacrossmetal,andthenthedoorclicksopenandlightspillsintotheparkinglot.
MothshurltheirbodiesthroughthecrackinthedoorwayasIslipthrough.
“Didtheyseeyou?”Iask.
“Itotallystrolledrightpastthem,”Tommysays.Imean,Skye.That’swhatSkyesays.
“Let’sgo,”Isay,hittingthestairs.
“We’renotgoingtotaketheelevator?”heasksfrombehindme,stillstandingonthefirstfloorofthestairwell,lookingupatmyass.
“Areyoukidding?”Isay.“It’sonlythreefloors.”
HegrumblesbutafterasecondIhearhissneakersscuffingupthestairsbehindme.Iwaitforhimtocatchupwithmeonthree,thencarefullycrackthefiredoor.Myhallisclear,andImovedownitfast.Idon’twantsomeonepeeringouttheirpeepholeandspottingme.Skyeamblesalonglikehedoesn’tcare.
Threestripsofyellowpolicetapecovermydoorandthere’sapaperBurbankPDsealovermylock.There’salsoapadlockhangingfromanewlyinstalledhasp.
“Shit,”Skyesays.“Iguessthat’sthat.”
IdigintomygobagandpulloutasmallVelcropouch.Fromit,IpullanAllenwrenchIgrounddown,andIinsertitinthepadlock’skeyhole,put
somedownwardpressureonit,thenuseahacksawIfiledintoalockpickandinabouttwentysecondsIpopthelock.
“Wow.”Skyewhistles.
“Hush,”Isayproudly.
Islicethesealandpushinside.Mycagehangsopen.Theymusthavetakensledgehammerstoit.Thehingesaretorquedandthedoorisalmostbentintwo.Theroomisfloodedwithorangefromthestreetlights.Mycurtainslieintattersonthefloor.ThroughthebrokenwindowsIcanhearacouplewalkingbytalkingaboutwheretheyparkedandthegirllaughs.
Everythinginmyapartmentisgone.It’sempty.
“Yougotrippedoff,”Skyesays,crowdinginbehindme.“Thatsucks.”
“It’sevidence,”Isay.
Idoawalkthrough,makingsureSkyestaysbythefrontdoor.Abookliesopeninthemiddleofthelivingroomfloorwithabootprintstampedacrossthepagesrightnexttobrowndragmarks—Julia’sblood.Inthebathroom,alonelybrahangsovertheshowerrod.Allfourofmysafeshavebeendrilled,andtheyallgapeopen,empty.
Inthelivingroom,Skyecrouchesinthecornerlookingatsomething.
“Theytrashedyourplant,”hesays.
Ishovehimaside.
Fine!Ithinkathim,relievedhe’ssafe.
Igetnothingfromhimbuticysilence.He’slyingonhissideinthecorner,aforlornlittletwistofgarbage.Hisrootsclingtoaballofdirt.IfindasouppotinthekitchenandscoopupasmuchofhissoilasIcanandputhimin.It’stoobig.Iwaterhiminthesink.
“Isthatwhatyoucamebackfor?”Skyeasksfromthekitchendoor.
“No,”Isay.“Butthere’snopointinkillingmyplant.”
Orrunningawayandleavinghimbehindtodie,Fineaddsinmymind.
I’msorry,Itellhim,buthe’sgonebacktothesilenttreatment.
IcarryFineintothelivingroom.Thetreadmillisstillthereandsoismydesk.IputFineonthetreadmill,thensquatinfrontofmydesk.
It’sclearofmonitors;there’snokeyboard,nomouse,evenmyprinterisgone.TheytooktheCPUthatsatonthefloorbeneathmydesk,butI
pressapanelIchoppedinthedrywallbehindatangleofwires,anditpopsopentorevealmyactualCPU.Theonetheytookisadummy.Oneisnone,andtwoisone.
“Iwanttogetintothat,”ItellSkye,haulingitout.
“Sure,wecanbringitbacktomymom’s,”hesays.
“Canyoudoithere?”
“I’vegotabusted-outlaptopinmytrunk,”hesays.“Itcandoubleforyourmonitorandkeyboard.”
“Gogetit,”Isay.“Gooutthebackwayandleavethedoorproppedopen.”
Whilehe’sgoneIheadintothekitchenandopenthecabinetunderthesink.Aboardonthebottomofthecabinetcomesup,andIbrushasidebottlesofcleaneruntilIcanstickmyarmintothespacebetweenthecabinetandthefloor.Myfingerssnagslickplastic.
IdragoutthebigZiplocfreezerbag.Insideisthreethousanddollarsintwentieswrappedinthreefat,heavyrolls.Islipthemintomygobag.
TwentyminutespassbeforeSkyecomessaunteringback,whistling,alaptopandcablesunderonearm.Theyoungergenerationreallyneedstolearnwhat“hustle”means.
“What?”heasksasIgivehimalook.“Yousaidtoactnatural.”
It’sanotherfewminutesbeforehehashislaptophookeduptomyCPU.Wesitonthefloornexttoeachother.Ittakesallmywillpowertoholdstill.Threenewsvansdownstairs,oneunmarkedcopcar,it’sonlyamatteroftimebeforesomeonecomesupstairstocheckoutthecrimescene.
Allmysensesareonhighalertforthesoundoftheelevatordoorsopeningorfootstepsinthehall.I’mworriedthey’llseethemissingpadlockandcomeinside.Orsomeoneonthestreetwillseethelaptoplightontheceiling.Orourkneesmighttouch.ItellSkyetoworkfast.
“ItwouldhelpifIknewwhatIwaslookingfor,”hesays.
“SomethingImayhavedownloaded,orthatwouldhaveinstalleditself,”Isay.“Somewaythatsomeonecouldhavetakenafileoffmycomputerwithoutmeknowing.”
Skyetapsaroundintheunadornedcodeforlessthanaminute,brisklysiftingthepunctuationmarksoupthatactuallypowersmycomputer.
“Thereyougo,”hesays.“SomeoneinstalledTeamViewer.”
“What’sthat?”Iask.
“It’saprogramthatallowsthemtoremotelyoperateyoursystem,”hesays.“It’sbeenonthereawhile.Yougothosed.”
I’membarrassedmysecuritywasbreachedandevenmoreembarrassedthatittookhimapproximatelyfivesecondstofindout.I’vegottensloppy.
“How’ditgetonthere?”Iask,feelingdefensive.“Ididn’tdoit.”
“Probablysomethingyoudownloaded,”hesays.
“I’vegotagoodfirewall,”Isay.“I’vegotantivirussoftware.”
“Yeah,butoncethiswasintheycouldinstallpermissions,soyoursystemignoredit,”hesays.
“Howdiditgetthereinthefirstplace?”Iask.Ifeelmyskintighten.
“Didsomeonecomeinhere?”
“Theycouldhave,”hesays.“Butitdoesn’thavetobesodramatic.Itcouldhavebeenhiddeninanattachmentyoudownloaded.”
“Idon’tdownloadattachments,”Isay.ButIdo.
I’vedownloadedthemfromtheUtahDepartmentofCorrections.I’vedownloadedthemfromAmazon.I’vedownloadedthemfromtheotherfinalgirlsinthegroup.I’vedownloadedthemfromDr.Carol.
Mymouthtasteslikegarbage.IwassoarroganttothinkIwassafe.
Arrogantandstupid,thewayIwasbeforeImettheWalkers.TheworldhasgottenmoresophisticatedandIhaven’tkeptup.WhileIwasguardingmydoortheysnuckinthroughmycomputerwindows.
“Getunplugged,”Isay,takingoutmymultitool,angryandcurt.
Heputshislaptoptosleepanddisconnectsthecables.IunscrewthebackofmyCPUandtakeouttheharddrive,myscrewdriverconstantlyslippingoutofthetinyscrewslots.BythetimeI’mdone,theknucklesonmyrighthandareshreddedandsore.IgrabFine,tucktheharddriveintomybag,thencloseuptheCPUandtakeitwithus.
“Leaveit,”Skyesays.“It’suseless.”
Idon’tanswer.Iclosethepadlockbehindus,mypupilsdilatingpainfullyinthebrighthall,andIreplacethecrimescenetape,tryingtomakeitlooklikenoonewaseverinside.There’snothingIcandoabouttheBurbankpoliceseal,buthopefullythey’llchalkituptonosyjournalistswithflexibleethics.
WetrucktheCPUdownthefirestairs,Skyecomplaininginwhispersallthewaythatthisisstupid,thatIdon’thavetotakeit,buthe’sakid.
Whatdoesheknow?SomecopwillcomebackatsomepointandifthisissittingtherewithitsharddrivemissingeventhegeniusesintheBurbankPDwillrealizeIcamebacktogetitbecauseit’simportant.AndIdon’twantanyonelookingformyharddrive.
Becauseit’sgotmybookonit.
—
BackinSkye’scar,IputtheCPUinhisbackseatandpeeloffahundreddollars.
“Here,”Isay.“AnextrahundredtotossthatinadumpsterataMcDonald’soraJackintheBox.Anyfast-foodplace.Theirgarbagegetspickedupbyprivatecontractorslatertonightorearlyinthemorningsoit’llbegonefaster.”
“Whereareyougoing?”heasks.
Ipeeloffanotherhundred.
“ThisisforgivingmearideouttoBelAirandnottellingyourmother.”
“Idon’tknowifIcandothat,”hesays.“Wekeepaprettyhonesthouse.”
Ipeeloffsixtymore.
“DoyouhaveanumberwhereIcanreachyou?”heasks,takingthemoney.
“Why?”
“I’llkeepyouintheloop,”hesays.“Fillyouinonwhatevermymomknows.”
“No,”Isay.“Afteryoudropmeoff,yourwholefamilyshouldstayfarawayfromus.”
“Isitalwayssodramaticwithyouguys?”Skyeasks.
“No,”Isay.“Butit’sneversafe.Thethingsthathappenedtousneverend.”
Standingoutsidemakesmenervous,soIgetonthefloor.Skyeslidesbehindthewheelandlocksthedoors.Good.He’slearning.
“Ifeelsorryforyou,”hesaysaswepulloutoftheparkinglot.“Mymomtalksaboutthesixofyouallthetime.Itdoesn’tsoundlikemuchofalife.Whydon’ttheyjustexecutetheguyswhodidthistoyou?Thenyoucouldactuallymoveon.”
“It’djustbesomeoneelse,”Isay,puttingFineontheseat.“AtleastthiswayIknowwherethethreatiscomingfrom.”
“Arethoseguysreallythatscary?”heasks.
“Scarierthanyoucaneverimagine,”Ianswer.
Hestaresdownatme.
“Youlooklikeanidiot.Comeon,it’stotallydark.”
Forsomereasonlookinglikeanidiotmakesmefeelself-consciousinfrontofthiskid.Notakid.He’stwenty-sixyearsold.BythetimeIwashisagemylifewasprettymuchover.Ihoistmyselfupintotheseat,carefulnottohitthegearshift,andstrapontheseatbelt.
“Doesn’tthatfeelbetter?”heasks.“It’salmostlikeyou’reanormalperson.”
Hethrowsmeasmile.Thiskid’sacharmer.Igivehimmybestsmileback,butevenIknowit’snotworthmuch.
Wedriveforalmostforty-fiveminutes.Wegetontothe405andheadforthehills.Ihatebeingoutsidethisway,butatleastmovingseventy-fivemilesanhouronthefreewayfeelsliketheoddsaremoreinmyfavor.WeturnoffintotheboringlittleneighborhoodsthatclusteraroundSunset,passUCLA,andheadthroughtheWestGate,whichfeelslikedrivingontosomeoldstudiobacklot,andthenwe’reliftingoffintothehills.
Ihaven’tbeenaroundastrangerlikethisinsixteenyears.Itlullsme.Itfeelsnormal.Icheckthebackseattomakesurenoone’shidingthere.Then
Icheckitagain.Layersofmyskinpeeloffandflutterawaybehindmeontotheshoulderoftheroad.IriskalookoveratSkye.He’sgotTommy’sprofile.Itremindsmeofhowdifferentthingscouldhavebeen,ofwhatadifferentpersonImighthavebecome,andittakeseverythinginsidemenottoreachoutandlaymyhandoverhisonthegearshift.
Ifeelnervous,twitchy,likeIwanttotalk.Myskincrackles,galvanized,andlittlepricklesrunupanddownmyforearms.Ikeepmyselfundercontrol.Iwaituntilwe’reafewblocksfrommydestinationbeforespeaking.
“Dropmeatthecorner,”Isay.
Hepullsupandputsthecarinpark.Wesitinthefrontseatlikeloversattheendofafirstdate.Themomentbecomesloadedwithmeaning.Itbecomesuncomfortable.Iseethepeachfuzzonhischeek,backlitgoldbythestreetlight.He’slookingatme,andmybreathingishighandtightinmychest.
Hehasnoarmor.Noprotection.HelookslikeTommyrightbeforethedoorbellrangthatnight.Suddenly,Iwanttogivehimsomething,somethingtokeephimsafe,somethinghecanremembermeby.Somethingthatwouldbejusthis,thatmightmakethedifferenceifanythingeverhappenedtohim,thatmightkeephimfromturningintooneofus.
Ileanoverandhegetsverystill.Hischeststopsmoving.Ipressmymouthtohisear,andfeelmywarm,moistbreathcuppedbythecoral-pinkcurlofhisear
“Don’teverletyourguarddown.”
Itisn’tmuch,butit’sallIhave.
ThenIpushmyselfoutofhiscarandI’mgone.
—“TheAmericanDreamGirl’sNightmareLife”byRustySquiresIII,TheBeliever,August2008THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPVIII:NightoftheFinalGirls
Idon’tmoveuntilIhearSkyemakeathree-pointturn,brakelightsflaringagainstthetrees,thenhe’sheadingbackdownthehill,andIstepbackwardintotheshrubberyandwait,scopingthestreet,makingsurehedoesn’tcomeback,makingsurenooneisfollowingme.
Mygobagisheavywiththeharddriveanditpressesintothesmallofmyback.Itweighsaton.Whyshouldn’tit?It’sfullofeveryone’ssecrets.
IblameRussellThorn.Hewasoneofthosebottom-feederswhoviewedatalking-headslotonCNNasacareerhigh.He’dinterviewedalmostallofusatsomepoint,andalongthewayhe’dfiguredoutthatImadeextramoneyself-publishingromanceebooksunderacoupleoffakenames.It’sabadjoke,right?Awomanwho’sneverhadaseriousrelationshipwritingaboutsecretbillionaires’secondchanceswiththeirhighschoolsweethearts,orruggedranchersandthefree-spiritedanimalrightsactivistswhobreaktheirhearts.Idon’tdisagree,butI’mgoodatit,andIneedtomakealiving.MaybeI’mgoodatitbecauseforme,allromanceisafantasy.Idon’thaveanyreal-lifeexperiencetogetintheway.
Russellgotintouchandtriedtoblackmailmewithoutblackmailingme.
“Idon’tknowwhattodo,Lynnette,”hesaidoverthephone.“Icouldsellthisarticletoabigoutlet,maybegetabookdeal.”
“IfyougopublicIcan’twriteanymore,”Isaid,nauseatedatthethoughtofbeingstrippednakedinpublicagain,ofeverystalkerandgutter-crawlingmediacreepthinkingLynnetteTarkingtonisjustagirlwho
wantedtofindtruelove.I’dhavetodeleteeverything.Yearsofwork.“Ineedtopaymyrent.”
“Ifyouwantmetospikeit,youneedtooffermesomethingofcomparablevalue,”hesaid.
“Likewhat?”Iasked.
“Whynotbringaboutthedemiseoftwobirdswithonestone?”Russellsuggested,pretendingthishadn’tbeenhisplanallalong.“Whydon’tweco-authoralittleliteraryendeavorofourown?”
Hepromisedhecouldgetusasix-figureadvanceforabookgivingtheinsidescooponfinalgirlswithbothournamesonthecover,butithadtocontainnewmaterialandithadtobeaboutmorethanme.Thetitlejustpoppedintomyhead:TheFinalGirlSupportGroup.Dr.Carolhaddonewellbuildingacareerbasedonherworkwithtraumasurvivorslikeus;maybeitwastimeIcashedin,too?Itoldhimtogoaheadandfieldoffers,buttokeepitquiet.IthinkheenvisionedthatI’dfeedhiminformationandhe’dturnitintodeathlessprose,butafterIhungupIrealized:whatdidIneedRussellThornfor?
IdecidedtowritethebookmyselfandoncehecameupwithanofferI’ddoanendrunaroundhimandapproachthepublisherdirectly.Itwasasleazymove,butRussellwasasleazyguy.ThenIstartedwritingandchangedmymind.
NormallyIwritefantasiesinvolvinghelicopterskiingandprivateislands,butwritingaboutsomethingthatcutthisclosetothebonedestroyedmydefenses.Everythingcameout:Dani’sguilt,Heather’saddictions,Julia’sintellectualpretensions,Marilyn’sdenial,Michelle’scancer,Dr.Carol’shungerforcelebrity.Iwroteitinawhite-hotburstandimmediatelyregrettedeveryword.Sentencebysentence,itwasnothingbutbetrayal.Icouldn’tpublishit,nomatterhowbadlyIneededthemoney,soIcutoffallcontactwithRussellandburiedthedocumentdeepinmyharddrive.Ican’tfacethrowingmywritingaway,andIfoolishlythoughtitwassafe,butIshouldhaveknownthatnoneofusiseverreallysafe.
Russellwentberserktryingtogetintouch,butIjustblockedhisnumberandputhisemailaddressintomyspamfilter.Hemusthavebeen
humiliated,havingtogobacktosomeeditorempty-handed,andhumiliationisatriggerformen.DidRussellstagethesceneinmyapartment?Washewearingabulletproofvest?WashereallydeadwhenIranaway?Didhestealthebookoffmyharddrive?ItmakesnosenseforhimtotakeitandthenwaitforJulia,though.Butwhoelseknewaboutthebook?Inevershouldhavewrittenthatbook.
Everyfewmonths,IrereadthepagesIwroteandsometimesaddsomethingnew,butIknowtheonlyrightthingtodoistodragthedocumentintothetrash.SomehowInevergotaroundtoitandnowsomeonehasgottentheirhandsonitandtheyknowmoreaboutourlivesthantheyshould,andDr.CarolwantstotakemetothecopssoI’mrunningtotheonlysafeplaceIknowanymore.
Thestreetisclear,soIheaduphill,goingslowlikeI’moutforacasualstrollcarryingapepperplantinasouppot,althoughtheonlypeoplewhowalkinBelAireitherhaveadogleashintheirhandsoraleafblowerstrappedtotheirbacks.
Istopatthecornerandcheckouttheentrance.NexttothefrontgateisalinebackerinablackTomFordsuitandsteel-toedcombatbootswearinganearpiece.She’shiredextrasecurity.Smart.Idecidetogooverthewall.IhideFineinsomebushes,muchtohisirritation,andthenItakearunningstart,jumpup,catchamassofcreepervinesclingingtoherenormousprivacywall,andhaulmyselfup.
TheleavesrustletooloudlyandIpauseatthetoptomakesurenooneheard.I’mclear,butit’stoohightojump,soIturnaroundandhangbymyhands,droppingintothebushesontheotherside.
Ilandonabushanditsendsmestumblingintoanotherbush,andthenI’meatingdirt.Istaggertomyfeetandgetawayfrommylandingzoneasfastaspossible.IfigurewithaguardatthegateI’llgointhefrontdoor,butasIgetclosertothelongprivatedriveIrealizeshe’srunningvaletservice.
Shit.
Marilyn’shavingaparty.
Youdon’tseparateHeatherfromherdrugs,orDanifromMichelle,orJuliafromherfeministtheory,andyoudon’tseparateMarilynTorresfrom
hersociallife.It’sherreligion.TheweekshegotintothatvantoheadoutintotheMiddleofNowhere,Texas,allshewasdreamingaboutwasbeingadebutante.She’dalreadyspentmonthspracticingtheTexasDipforherdebutattheWomen’sSymphonyLeagueofAustinJewelBall.
Buttherumorhadbeengoingaroundthatsomeonewasdiggingupgravesanddesecratingcadavers,andthethoughtthatthemummifiedremainsofthefamilypatriarchmightwindupwiredtoaheadstonewithhispictureonthefrontpageofthepaperwasenoughtosendMarilyn’smothertobedwithValiuminonehandandvodkaintheother.Afterall,theyweresomeoftheoriginalSpanishlandgranteesinTexas.Theyhadanimagetouphold.SoMarilyn,herbrother,andthreefriendsheadedoffintothatbroilinghotsummerdaytomakesurethatGranddaddyTorres’scorpsewasstillreposingrespectablyunderground.
ThatwaswhenoneoldAustinfamilyranintoanother.
Itrytoavoidstereotypes,butinthecaseoftheHansenfamilytheyliterallywereinbredrednecks.Formerslaughterhouseownersfallenonhardtimesacoupleofgenerationsback,theirlastwomenhaddiedoffearlierthatyearandtheboyswerefeelingtheneedtobreed.Herecamethisvanfulloffirmyoungfleshandtheyfellonitlikestarvingtouristsatanall-you-can-eatbuffet.
Therearetwolinesyoucan’tcomebackfromonceyoucrossthem.
Killingpeopleisone.Eatingpeopleistheother.Marilyn’stalkedaboutwhathappenedingroupbefore,alongtimeago,backatthebeginning,andalotofithadtodowithstraightrazors,andbeingforcedtowearaleathersuitmadeoutofhumanskin,andsledgehammers,andrenderingvats.Mostofustrynottorememberthedetails.
Marilynwastheonlyonewhosurvived.FromJulytoAugustshestayedinherroom,hidingfromthepress,thentwoweeksbeforetheJewelBallsheemergedanddeclaredthatshewasgoingtothedance.Herparentswarnedheragainstit,herdoctorswarnedheragainstit,thepolicewarnedheragainstit,butshewent,andonthenightoftheballsheworeherbigpuffywhitedressandwhileJohnnyMercersang“MoonRiver”shefoldedlikearoseandexecutedaperfectTexasDip.Afewfolkscalledher
shallow,butweknowwhyshedidit.SomepeoplemayhaveseenherdotheTexasDipthatnight,butusfinalgirlsallsawaraisedmiddlefingeraimedattheHansens.
Ayearlater,thesurvivingmembersoftheHansenfamilyshowedupattheradiostationwhereMarilynhadgottenajobasalate-nightDJ,hopingtoanchorthelocalnewsoneday.ShemadeshortworkofUncleTexandthepolicetookcareofViper,butBuddychasedherupthebroadcastantenna.SheMacedhiminthefaceandsenthimplungingeighty-fivefeetontoasquadcar.
It’shardtoholdyourheadupinsocietyaftersomethinglikethat,soshemovedtoDallasandthen,afterafailedfirstmarriage,triedL.A.,whereshesethersightsonthesonofthefounderofRehabilitationAmericaPartners,aprivatecompanythatownsandoperatesforty-eightcorrectionalfacilitiesinthirtystates,runningsomethinglikeeighty-fivethousandbeds.
Nowshe’sacommittedvegan,anardentsocialclimber,andmonstrouslyrich.Andtonight,allthreeofthosepartsofherpersonalityhaveconvergedatthisparty.
AnotherEscaladewithtintedwindowscruisestoastop,thedrivercomesaroundandopensthebackdoor,andafreshanddewyyoungwomaninapeachgowngetsout,ledbyanelderlymummyinatuxedowhoholdsontoherarmlikealeash.ThedrivergetsbackintohislandyachtandcruisesawayandIgetawashofpartysoundsasthemummyandhisshimmeringpetpassintothehouse.
Ireally,really,reallyhatetobreakupMarilyn’sbigevent,butmoreimportantthingsarehappening.IdecidethatI’llsliparoundback,wherethere’llbelesssecurity,findher,anddiscreetlyhaveaword.Shemightbeangrywithmeatfirst,butonceI’vewarnedheraboutwhat’shappeningI’llaskhertoletmestay.JustuntilIknowwhereI’mgoingnext.Shecan’tsayno.
“Excuseme,”amancallsfrombehind.“MayIhelpyou?”
Idon’tevenlook.Iknowwhatsecuritysoundslike.Iturntomyleftandmakemywaydowntheshadowysideofthehouse,overthegrass,
towardthelightsandlaughterinthebackyard.ItfeelslikeI’mbackstage,gettingreadytostepintothespotlight.
“Excuseme,”themansays,andhisvoiceiscloserthistime.
BeforeIcanbreakintoajog,ahandclampsdownonmyshoulder.
“Stop—”
Idon’tlethimfinish.Ispin,brushinghisarmoffandsteppinginclosetodeliverakneetohisballs.Hetwistsandtakesmykneeonhisthigh.He’sabigguyinadarksuitandIpanic.Ireachformyfannypackandmygun;Ishouldhavehaditdrawninthefirstplace.BeforeIcanyankmyzipper,hegrabsmywristandrotatesmyforearmsoit’sfacingup,puttingpressureonmyelbow.Ishouldhavekeptmydistancebecauseonceamangetshishandsonyouit’sallover.
Itryformyfannypackwithmylefthand,buthegetsmyrightarminawristlockthatcommandsmyfullattention,pushingmyfingersbacktowardmychestlikehe’sfoldingmypalmflushwiththeinsideofmywrist.Myradiusandulnacreakfromthestrain.Heputsmeonmyknees,thenfoldsmeoverontomystomach,usingmyhyperextendedwristtocontrolme.
BeforeIknowit,hisfootisonthesmallofmyback,myfannypackisunclippedandoutofreach,andhe’sonhisearpiece.
“We’vegotanintruder,armed,”hesays,lowandurgent.
Istretch,reachingfortherazorbladetapedtomyankle,andheshiftshisweightandbringshisotherfootdownonmywrist.
OnethingIhavetosayaboutMarilyn,shepaysfortop-shelfsecurity.
Flashlightbeamshitmyfaceandsomeonezip-tiesmywriststogether.
Thishasallgonewrong.Whataretheygoingtodotome?Itrytostrugglebuttheykeepmeinplacewithnoeffort.
“Callthepolice,”oneofthemsays.“We’llputherinthegarageuntiltheygethere.”
There’sapauseandthenscatteredmutteringsof“Ma’am,”“Ma’am.”
OneofthemrocksmeupoffthegroundsoI’mseated,boundwristsbehindme.InfrontofmestandsMarilyninapalegrayflowingthingthatlooksexpensive.Constructedofwell-bredbones,deeplymoisturizedskin,anda
fabulousthickmaneofdarkhair,she’saboutthesizeofoneofthesesecuritycreeps’biceps.
“Oh,Lynne.”Shesighs.There’saglassofwineinoneofherhands.“Itissosweetofyoutodropby,butyoucan’tbeheretonight.”
“Wehavetotalk,”Isay.
“Okay,miss,”oneofthebruiserssaystome.“Youneedtostopspeakingrightnow.”
Istarttoscream.That’llbringsomeonerunning.
Thesecondmywailsplitstheair,Marilyn’sfacelooksstricken,andoneofthegoonsdropstoakneeandclampshishandovermymouth.
“Bringheraroundback,”Marilynsays.“We’llputherintheguestcottage.”Sheturnstome.“We’lltalklater,sweetie?”
Ibitethesoftsaltypalmovermyface,grindingmyteethdown,reallysawingthroughhisflesh.Hedoesn’tflinch.
“IfIhavehimtakehishandoff,willyoubequiet?”Marilynasks.
Inod.Hetakeshishandoff.Istarttoscream.
“Lynnette!”Marilynsnaps.Istopscreaming.“Ihaveguests!Whateveryou’vecomeforcanwait.IambrokenupaboutAdrienneandJulia,too,andwecantalklaterandthatwillbewonderful,butrightnowthisisabenefitforretiredcircusanimals.Itisveryimportanttome,doyouunderstand?Theselionshavesufferedenough.”
“Onehour,”Isay.
“Ofcourse.”Shesighsagain.“Youaresuchasweethearttowanttocomeandvisit.”
Sheleansforwardandgivesmeabig“Mwah”onmycheek,leavinglipstickbehind.Herebehindherwallswithhercamerasandhersecurityteamshecanbetheflightysocialiteshealwayswantedtobe.
Securitycreepsliftmetomyfeetandleadmearoundtheperimeterofthebackyard.
“Unclipherhands,”Marilynsays.“Thisisn’toneofJerry’sprisons.”
“Onehour,”Iremindherasagoonsnipsmycuffsoff.
Weskirttheedgeofthelights.Theyardsprawlsonmyright,strungwithChineselanternsandricholdmenandtrophywivesstandingundertall
metaloutdoorheatersthatloomlikewatchtowers.Noone’swatchingtheirbacks,orcheckingtheexits,orshowinganyspatialawarenesswhatsoever.
OnmyleftarethelightsofLosAngeles,scatteredacrosstheblacknessbelowthehills,lookingcleanerandcrisperthantheyhaveanyrighttobe.
Theviewfromupherecantrickyouintothinkingtheworldisabeautifulplace
“Keepgoing,”oneofthegoonssays,propellingmeforwardwithahandinthesmallofmyback.
Upahead,ontheothersideoftheglowingbluepool,isatwo-storyMediterraneancottagewitharedtileroof.It’sbigenoughforasmallfamily.IntheglowofpaperlanternshangingfromthetreesIseeagoonstandingatparaderestbyitsFrenchdoors,handsclaspedbehindhisback.
Theypopthedoor’shermeticsealandIgetprofessionallypropelledoutofthecoolnightairandintothedrywarmthofcentralheating.Theguesthouseislitup,fullofMissionfurniture,laidwithheavyterra-cottafloortiles,wallscoveredintastefulMexicanartthat’sallcoloreddotsandelectriclines.Therearecutmetalsculpturespeeledintotheshapeofrabbits,andjaguars,andparrots,andsnakestuckedintoallthecorners.It’sacottagefullofthingsIcouldneverafford,thingsIcouldneverown.Nicethings.Settledthings.Thekindofthingsyouhavewhenyoudon’tneedtobeabletorunoutthedoorthesecondtroublecomeslookingforyou.Thekindofthingsyouhavewhenyoucanaffordthesecuritytoprotectthem.
Inthemiddleofallthisjealousy-inducingluxurysitsHeather,feetonthecoffeetable,watchingTV,smokingacigaretteandashingonthefloor.
Shelooksupatme,allcasualcool.
“What’sup,Lynne?”sheasks.“Shittyparty,right?”
—“SlasherMoviesintheAgeofMassShootings”byDavidThomas,FilmViolence&
FilmArt:AManifesto,2007THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPIX:
FinalGirlvs.FinalGirl
I’msosurprisedthatIcan’tsayanythingforafullminute,butthat’sokay.Heatherdoesallthetalkingforme.
“Hi,Heather,”shesays,inamockingvoicethatIthinkismeanttobeme.“Nicetoseeyou,too.Sogladyou’realive.You’resosmarttocometoMarilyn’s.I’vebeenrunningaroundthecityalldaylikeadumbbitch.”
There’sakitchenbehindapass-throughcounteronmyright,adarkhallwayonmyleft,thelivingroominfrontofmewithFrenchdoorslookingoutintothedarkwoods.IstepoverHeather’slegsandyankthecurtainsclosed.
“Ilikedthoseopen,”Heathersays.
There’snowaytoblockthekitchenwindowsorthefloor-to-ceilingwindowswrappedaroundthediningnook.Thefridgeisemptyexceptforashriveledlemon,aboxofArm&Hammer,andacaseofPerrier.IfindsteakknivesinthethirddrawerIopen.Itaketwo.
“Isthereareasonyou’remessingupmyaction?”Heatherasks.
Igointothehallwayandstartcheckingtherestofthehouse.
“That’sawasteoftimebecauseyou’releaving,”Heathercallsafterme.
Tworoomsupstairs,bothempty.Ichecktheclosets,underthebeds,behindtheshowercurtaininthesharedbathroom,underneaththesink.
EverywhereIgoIleavethelightsburning.Ican’ttolerateanyshadows.Ican’tleaveanyhidingplaces.Igobackdownstairs.
“Doesthisdoorlock?”Iask,tryingtofindadeadboltonthefrontdoor.
“Ihopenot,”Heathersays,lightinganothercigaretteoffherfirst.
“That’lljustslowyoudownifIgetshotandyouhavetorunawayrealfast
andleavemebleedingtodeathonthefloor.”
IguesssheheardaboutJulia.
“Itwasacombatsituation,”Isay,takingasteptowardher,tryingtodisguisemyshamewithanger.“Ihadtomakeaninstantdecision.”Shemakeseyecontact,andIstopadvancingandlamelyadd,“ImadesureJuliawasokay.”
“Ibetyoudid,CowardlyLion,”shesays,droppingherbuttinaPerrierbottle,whereitsizzles.“DoesMarilynevenknowyou’rehere?”
“Shetoldmetowait,”Isay,droppingdowntositagainstthewallbythefrontdoor.It’stheonlyplacethat’soutofthesightlinesofallthosewide-openkitchenwindows.“Shesaidshe’dtalktomeinfiftyminutes.”
“Yeah,well,”Heathersays.“Onepersonisahouseguest,twoisacrowd,andIwasherefirst.”
“Whyareyouhere?”Iask.
“Myfuckinghouseexplodedandallmyshitburnedup?”shesays.
“I’mcomingtoMarilyn’s.Thebitchshitsmoney.Where’dyougo?GotJuliashotandranawaycryinglikealittlebaby?Well,there’snoroomatCasaMarilyn.”
“IneedtotalktoMarilyn,”Isay.“Thisisserious.”
“Fuckyeah,it’sserious,”Heathersays.“Didyouseeupstairs?There’safuckingJacuzzi.You’regoingtohavetodragmeoutofthismotherfucker,andIwillfightyoualltheway.”
“Doyouhaveanyideawhat’sgoingon?”Iask.
“Iknowexactlywhat’sgoingon,”Heathersays.“Marilyn’sgotsomuchhouseshedoesn’tknowwhattodowithit.IfigureI’mdoingherafavorstayingherewhileJerry’saway.Campoutinthisflylittleguesthousefortheduration.She’sgotservantstodowhateverthefuckIwant.Sheandme,we’llturtledownuntilallthisblowsover.I’dsayyoucouldstickaroundandwatchmybackbutIdon’thaveadeathwish.”
“Thepolicearelookingforyou,”Itellher.
“What’snew?”shesays.“Isleptinthewoodsbehindthehalfwayhouse.Okay,honestytime:Ifuckingpassedout.Aftergroup?Youbitchesharshedmysobriety.Adriennegone?That’sthekindofshitthatmakesme
needtodrink.SoIcadgedsomecash,boughtalittleSmirnoffIce,andpartiedinthewoods.IwakeupwithakillerheadacheandstrollhomejustintimetoseeeverythingIownonfireandcopscrawlingallovertheplace.
Igetinacabandforty-fivebuckslaterit’s‘Yohomes,smellyalater,I’mtheFreshPrinceofBel-Air.’?”
“Someoneisgunningforallofus,”Isay.
“I’mgoingtostartswimminglaps,”Heathersays.“Getinshape.Losesomeofthisflab.”
Shepinchesaninvisiblerolloffataroundthetopofherjeansandshakesit.Heatherisabundleofwirecoathangerssqueezedintojeansthataremoreripthanjean,andcoveredinbruises,butinherheadshestillhasallherbabyfatfromhighschool.
“Weneedtofigureoutastrategy,”Isay,ignoringherdysfunction.
“Astrategy?”Heatherlaughs,andrummagesinherpurse.Shepullsoutahand-rolledcigaretteandlightsitoffhercigarette.Fromthesmell,it’snottobacco.“What’reyougoingtodo?FuckingdressuplikeBatgirlandgoswingaroundthecity?”
“Howdidthispersonknowwhereyourhalfwayhousewas?”Iask.
“How’dtheyknowwhereAdriennelived?”
ButevenasIsayitIknowwhere:mycomputer.Imusthavehadtheiraddressesintheresomewhere.
“Halfwayhousesarefullofchainsmokers,”Heathersays.“Theyburndownallthetime.Stoptryingtobeahero.Everyonefeelssorryforyoubecauseyou’reaparanoidwithOCD.Obsessive-compulsivedisorder.”
“IknowwhatOCDis,”Isay.
“IknowwhatOCDis,”shemimics.“FuckingForrestGumpoverhere,youcanbarelywalkthroughadoorwithouthavinganervousbreakdownandyou’regoingtohelpanyone?Youcanhardlydressyourself.Youlooklikeafuckingtwelve-year-oldboy.ThesecondtheshithitsthefanyouboltlikeBambi.”
“Wehavetowatchoutforeachother,”Isay.
“That’sbeautiful,”shesays.“Butyou’rejustsickenoughtohavearrangedthiswholethingtokeepgrouptogether.Outofeveryone,youare
theabsolutefuckingworstatlettinggoofthepast.”
Then,asiftheuniverseisgangingupwithHeathertoproveherpoint,mypastisonTV.
“Turnitup,”Isay.
“Turnitupyourself,”Heathersays,andthensheturnstotheplasmascreen.“Holyshit,that’syourboyfriend.”
GarrettP.CannonisonthescreenandI’mfrozen.Timehasnotbeenkind.He’swearingacowboyhatandabolotie,everythingincreamsanddovegrays,andhe’sgrownabushywhitemustache,probablytogivehiswitheredoldfacesomevolume.Hisneckhangsslackandloose.He’sstillbleachinghisteeth,buttheylooktoowhiteagainsthissunburnedskin.
ThesluglineacrossthebottomofthescreenreadsShockingRevelationsinSilentNightSlayings.Istare,hypnotizedbyGarrett’swet,movingmouth,thewayhe’sbaskinginthecameraslikeareptilesunningitselfonarock.Ifthere’sonepersonIneverwantedtoseeagain,it’shim.
Hisvoiceisthesizeofamouse’s.Ican’thelpmyself.Ifindtheremoteandturnitup.
“…sayingforyearsthiscasedon’tsmellright,”hedrawls.“AndaftermuchtenaciousinvestigationonmypartIhaveuncoveredexplosivenewinformation.”
“Atleastsomeone’sgotahard-onforyou,”Heathersays.
“WithoutadoubtwewillbeseekingLynnetteTarkingtonforfurtherquestioning,”Garrettcontinues.“IamreceivingunprecedentedcooperationfromthepoliceinLosAngelesCountyandweareattemptingtolocateMissTarkingtonrightthisminute.InUtah,justicewearscowboyboots,andthey’realwaysreadytokickBLEEP.”
Thecameraflashesbacktoananchorgazingearnestlyintothelens.
“GarrettP.Cannon,lawenforcementhero,commentingonexplosivenewinformationintheSilentNightSlayings.Tuneintomorrow,whenNancyGracegiveshertake.”
“Havetheysaidwhatitis?”Iask.
“Dude,didn’tyouhear?”Heathersays,takingadeeppullonherjoint.
“There’sexplosivenewinformation.Probablythatyouweretheonekilling
people,youlittlepsycho.”
Whateverthisis,Iknowtheydon’thaveanything.Iftheydid,Garrettwouldn’thavebeenabletokeephismouthshut.Thefactthathe’sbeingcoymeansthathehasacrummyhandandwantstokeepthecamerasonhimforaslongaspossible.ThelasttimeGarretthad“explosivenewinformation,”itwasthathe’dwrittenthescriptforthefranchisereboot.
“Thisissofuckingboring,”Heathersays.“Ineedadrink.Nothingmaterializedinthatfuckingfridgeinthelastfiveminutes,didit?”
Shestandsup,checksthefridge,slamsit,grabsherbag,opensthefrontdoor,andgetsimmediatelyswarmedbyblack-suitedsecurity.
“Miss,I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutogobackinside,”theshort,wide,baldguyblockingthedoorwaysays.
“Sir,”Heathersays.“I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutostickyourdickupyourass.”
“Miss…”hesays.“I’mnotgoingtoaskyouagain.”
“LetmetellyouwhatI’mgoingtodo,”Heathersays.“I’mgoingintothatpartytospeaktomyverygoodmotherfuckingfriend,Mrs.MarilynBlake,whopaysyourmotherfuckingsalary.IfyougetinmywayI’mgoingtojumpinthatpool,whipoutmytits,andletthisbunchofCharityBarbiesgetaneyefulofwhatnaturalBslooklike.”
ShortandStockywrapsahandaroundherbicepsandsqueezes.
“Ow,motherfucker,”Heatherhisses.“I’llscream.”
“CanIgetassistanceatstationtwelve,”ShortandStockysaysintohisearpiece.
Istayseatedandoutoftrouble.Ineedaplacetosleeptonight.Dani’ssafeinjail,Julia’sprobablyunderpoliceprotectioninthehospital,andwhileIdon’tlikethethoughtofMarilyn,Heather,andmebunchedupinonelocation,atleastthisone’ssecure.
BehindShortandStockyIseeidenticaltwinlinebackerstrottingtowardus,Marilynstridingbehindthem,andthenthey’refillingthedoor,pushingtheirwaythrough,pushingHeatherback.
“I’msorry,Mrs.Blake,”ShortandStockysaysasMarilynemergesfrombetweenthetwins.
Marilyn’smouthsmiles,herperfectteethcatchthelight,hercheeksdimple.
“That’sallright,Tom,”shecoos,andthenshelooksatmeandhereyesaredead.“Itoldyoutowaithere.”
“Lynnegothungry,dude,”Heathersays.“Haveyouevertriedtostopher?She’slikethefuckingTerminator.”
“YouwillbothstayhereuntilIcomeforyou,”Marilynsays,herlipsbarelymoving.“Thatisnotupfordiscussion.”
“Youcan’tkeepuslockeduplikeoneofyourprisoners,”Heathersays.
“Likewhat?”sheasks.“YouarriveatmyhouseandIhavetopayyourtaxifareandIgiveyouaplacetostayandyou’reaprisoner?”
“ThesedudesmarchedLynnetteinherelikeNazis,”Heathersays,appealingtome.
“I’mnotinvolved,”Isay.“Ijustneedaplacetostay.”
“Isthatall?”Marilyntearsastripoffme.“Yousneakovermywallwithagunlikeahomeinvaderbecauseyouwantasleepover?TheonlyreasonIhaven’tcalledthepoliceisbecausetherearesomeverysick,veryoldlionswhoneedhomesandthepeoplewhowillpayforthemdonotlikeascene.”
“Marilyn,”Isay.“Ineedaplaceforonenight.We’llbegood.”
Sheleansin.
“IfIweren’thavingaparty”—shesmiles—“IwouldgetJerry’ssecuritydetailtotossyououtonyourfannieswhileIsipwhitewineandlaugh.”
Thesecurityguardsperkup.
“Screwyou,”Heathersays,andstartspushingforward.
Shehasn’ttakentwostepsbeforeallthesecurityguyshaveherarmstwistedupbehindherback.
“I’mnotgoingtorepeatmyself,”Marilynsaysassheturnstogo.
“Stay.”
ThesecurityguystossHeatherontothecouchandareoutthedoorbeforesheevenstopsbouncing.
“Youcan’tsendustoourroom,Mom!”Heatherscreams,runningtothedoorastheyslamitinherface.
It’slocked.Sherantsforfivefullminutesandthenthedooropensandastreamofstaffpourinsidewhilethethreesecurityguysblockthedoor.
Theylayoutplattersonthepass-through:gingerjellysandwichesongluten-freebuns,mushroomriceballs,vegetablesushirolls.Ofcourseeverything’svegan.Heathermakespointedpersonalcommentsabouteachandeverypersonlayingoutfood,andonlystopswhenthelastcaterwaiterputsthreebottlesofchampagneinthefridge.
“Complimentsoftheladyofthehouse,”hesays,andthenthere’sapuffofsmokeandtheroomisemptyandthedoorislockedandI’mstuffingmyface.Beforethefirstbite,Ididn’trealizehowhungryIwas.
Heatherpoursawaterglassfullofchampagneandgoesbacktorunningmedown.
“Ihadagoodthinggoinguntilyoushowedup,”Heathersays.“Youknowwhat?You’reanasshole,Lynne.I’vealwaysfuckingthoughtthat.”
Ikeepeating.IneedmycaloriesincaseIhavetorun.
“You’resoquietandeveryonethinksyou’reallsadandfuckedinthehead,”Heathersays.“ButIbetyouknowalotmoreaboutwhatthefuckisgoingonthanyou’retelling.”
HeatherandIusedtobeclose,butwhenIrealizedhowunstableshewasIstartedkeepingmydistance.Thethingsthathappenedtoallofusarebadenough,butshe’stheonlyonewhofeelsaneedtoembellish.EversinceIpulledawayshe’smademehertarget.It’snotherfault,it’sthedrugs.Still,itmakesmenervousthatshethinksIknowmoreaboutwhat’sgoingonthanI’msaying.BecauseIdo.
Asunpleasantassheis,IstaywithHeather.Someoneoncetoldmethatallyouhavetodotokeepfrombeingeatenbyabearisrunfasterthanyourfriend.Sameprinciple.
Alotofinsultsandtwobottlesofchampagnelater,thedoorbreaksitssealandMarilynstormsthroughwithaglassoficewaterinonehand,wearinganenormousterry-clothrobe,wrappedandtuckedandbelted
aroundherinbig,loose,fluffyloops.BehindherisamaidcarryingFineinhispot.
“Doesthisbelongtoeitherofyou?”Marilynsnaps.“Securityfounditoutside.”
Ialmostcheer,butinsteadIkeepmymouthshutandtakethepotinbothhands.
“Thanks,”Imumble.
“Didyougetyourfuckinglionmoney?”Heatherslurs,wavingherglassatMarilyn.
MarilynsmacksitoutofHeather’shandanditgoesspinningintothewall.Champagnemistsmyface.
“Whatthehell?”Heatherasks.Shetriestostand,butshe’stoodrunkandherasspullsherrightbackdownagain.
“It’sonea.m.,”Marilynspits.“Andmyhouseisempty.Doyouknowwhatkindoffund-raiserendsatone?Afailedone.Ispentanungodlyamountofmoneybutmyfund-raiserfailedbecauseaboutanhourafterthisone”—heresheturnsonme—“climbedovermywallwithagunandherstupidhouseplant,thepaparazzishowedupinmydrive.”
“Itoldyoushe’strouble,”Heatherslurs,pointingonewaveringfingeratme
“Theywanttoknowwhytwofinalgirlsarehidinginmyguesthouse,”
Marilynsnaps.“Theyknowbothyournames,soI’mholdingyoubothresponsible.”
“How’dtheyknowwewerehere?”Iask.
“Theyfollowedyou,”shesays.“Becauseyouaresloppyandinconsiderate.”
Ididn’tseeanyonebehindSkyeandme,butmaybeImissedthem?
Maybeoneofthosenewsvanspickedusupatmyhouseandfollowedushere?I’vebeenmissingtoomuchlately.Ifeeloldandslowandstupid.
“Thisisbad,”Isay.“Thatreporter,RussellThorn,gotshotinmyapartment.Thentheytriedtoshootme.ThentheyshotJuliaandburneddownHeather’shalfwayhouse.Nowtheyknowwe’rehere.”
“They,they,they,”Marilynsays.“Areyouoffyourmedsagain?”
“Idon’ttakemeds,”Isay,jawtight.
“Well,nowweknowyourproblem,”Marilynsays.
“Someone’stryingtokillus,”Isay.“That’swhatIcameheretosay.
Youcanhandlethathoweveryouwant.Ijustneedasafeplaceforonenight.”
Asnoresplitstheroom.Heatherhaspassedoutonthesofa.Thetwoofuslookatherforaminute,andthenMarilyntakesalongpullonherglass.
It’snoticewater,Irealize.It’svodka.
“Ofcourseyoucanstayheretonight,”Marilynsays,andforthefirsttimeshesoundstired.“Ijustreallywantedtohelpthoselions.”
There’ssilenceforaminute,exceptforHeather’ssnoring.
“HaveyouheardanythingaboutMichelle?”sheasks.
IknowthatMarilynandDaniareclose.Thetwoofthemwereintouchbyphoneforyearsbeforegroupstarted.DanihasaplaceinherheartandthatmeansMichelledoes,too.
“She’sinhospice,”Isay.
Andthenmyarmsandchestfillupwithicewaterbecausethatmeanseveryone’ssomeplacesafeexceptMichelle.
Marilynmassagesthebridgeofhernosewithtwofingers.
“Ineedtoprocessthis,”shesays.“I’llmakesomecallsinthemorning.
Wewilltalkthen.Thehouseisalarmed,andsecuritypatrolsallnight,sopleasedonotleavetheguesthouse.”
IfeelbadleavingHeatherinaroomwithsomanywindows,butshe’stooheavyformetomove.Iturnoutthelightsandcheckthedoors,thengoupstairs.Ihidetheharddriveinsidetheboxspringsoftheguestbedroombed,andthenIsleepinthebathtubwiththedoorlockedandthelightson.
Ilieinthebathtubanddecidetogetoutofhereinthemorningbeforeanyoneelseisawake.I’llleavebeforethesunisup.Itellmyselfthere’snothingIcandoforMichelle.Ican’tberesponsibleforotherpeople.Icanbarelyberesponsibleformyself.
Finesitsonthecounterinhispot,buthe’ssoquietIworryhe’sinshock.Toomuchchangeforoneday.It’snothealthy.
—
IwakeupwithHeatherbangingonthebathroomdoor.
“Igottago,asshole,”sheyellsasIscrabbleawake,adrenalinepumping.
“Usetheotherone,”Iyellback,disoriented,voiceshaking.Thesun’salreadyhighonthetiles.Ioverslept.
“Iwanttousethisone,”shescreams.
Shewon’tstoppoundingonthedooruntilIdragmyselfout.
“Freak,”shesays,seeingmyblanketsandpillowinthetub.
Ilookoutthewindow.It’squietoutside,justafewbirds.Thesunlightisliquidgold,steamrisingoffthesurfaceoftheheatedpool.It’swaytoolatetorun.
Igodownstairsandwalkthroughthecoolmorningairtothehouse.
Insidethesandstonekitchentheblackmarbleislandisloadedwithafruitplatter,bagels,creamcheese.Nomatterwhat,Marilyncan’thelpit,shehastobeahost.
“Idonothavethecapacityforrudeness,”shesaysfromthestairs.Ididn’tseeherthere.“Getaplate.There’steaoutsidebythecoffee.”
Wesitoutsideatawoodentableunderarough-beamedpavilionattachedtothesideofherhouse.Plasticbubblescontainingcamerashangfromthecornersofherroof;everywindowisalarmed.Twogiantsinsweatsuitsstandontheedgeoftheyard.
“Now,”shesays.“I’vehadmysecondcupofcoffee.Tellmewhyyouthinkeveryoneistryingtokillus.”
“Ihavetogetgoing,Marilyn,”Isay.“Isthereabackwayoutofhere?”
“DoyouthinkI’mJamesBond?”sheasks.“TalktomeandI’llgetyououtthefrontwaylater.”
Iexplainwhat’sbeengoingon,leavingoutmybook.Inthemiddle,Heatherdriftsup,thenfloatsawaytothekitchen,thenreappearssmokingacigarette.Marilynmakeshersitfarawayuntilshefinishes,andwinceswhenHeatherflicksherbuttinthepool.
“Ineedtogo,”Isay.“Youguysaresafe,Dani’sincustody,Julia’sprotected,butIneedtogo.”
Iprayshedoesn’trememberMichelle.
“Goodriddance,”Heathersays.“Finderskeepers.”
“Imadesomecallsthismorningandspoketomyattorney,”Marilynsays.“He’sspokenwithsomeoneatthesheriff’sofficewhosaysDaniissafe,andwhileshewon’tbearraignedforafewdays,sheandMichellecangohomeassoonasthejudgehearsherplea.Juliaisinthehospitalandtheyhavesecuritypostedonherroom.Youtwoareprobablybothgettingwarrantsissuedlaterthismorning,soafterbreakfastyou’llbothneedtopackupandIcancallyoucars.Doyouhaveenoughcash?”
“Iknewyou’dfuckupmydeal!”Heatherbawlsatme.
ThenIcan’thelpmyself.Ifeeltheobligationspullingonmelikechains.
“MakesuretheypostacoponMichelle’sroom,”Isay.
MarilynimmediatelyknowswhatI’mgettingat.
“She’sdying,”Marilynsays.“There’snopointinsomeonekillingher.”
“Therearebetterandworsewaystodie,”Isaybecause,again,Ican’thelpmyself.
“Canceristheworseway,”Marilynsays.“I’mnottryingtobecallous,Lynne,butIcannotaffordtobepulledintowhateverepisodeyou’rehaving.
Adriennewasmurderedbysomeonewithagrudge,Danifiredaweaponatapoliceofficer,Heatherwassmokingcrackinherbasementandsetherbuildingonfire—”
“Iwaspassedoutinthewoodsbehindmyhouse!”Heatherprotests.
“Blessyourheart,youweretoohightoremember,”Marilynsays,thenturnsbacktome.“YouandJulia,well,Ionlyhaveyourwordforwhathappened.ForallIknowyoushotherbyaccident.Youdohaveatendencytowavegunsaroundandyou’vealwayshadaflairformelodrama.”
“WehavetocheckonMichellefirst,”Isay,tryingtobuytime,butalsoit’strue.“YouknowI’mright.WeoweittoDanitomakesureshe’ssafe.”
Imeanit.Ireallydo.ButalsoifIcangetMarilyntotakeustohospiceinoneofherbigarmoredSUVs,thenIcanslipaway.Itgivesmeachance
togetoutofL.A.beforethecopsbringmeinandaskquestionsaboutGarrettP.Cannon’sexplosivenewinformation.
MarilynlooksoutoverLosAngeles.Theguysinsweatsuitsarejokingaroundwitheachother,pretendingtopusheachotherintothepool.Marilynfeelssafehere.Jerry’smoneyhasallowedhertobuildafantasylandwhereshecanenjoytheluxuryofpretendingthatmyproblemsaren’therproblems.Butshewouldn’thavelivedthislongifshecouldn’ttellfantasyfromrealitysometimes.
“IwillgoandseeMichelle,”shefinallysays.“IoweDanithatmuch.
Youtwocancomeifyou’dlike.Butafterthat,wegoourseparateways.Wehavenothingincommon,Lynnette.Wecan’tkeepclingingtothepast.”
“Howdowegetoutofherewithpaparazzialloveryourdriveway?”Iask.“Wecan’tleadwhoeveritistoMichelle.”
Marilynsmiles.
“DidyoureallythinkIonlyhadonewayoutofmyhouse?”
—Gnomecoming,VHSboxcopy,1989TFGSGX
Noonegoeshomefromahospice,butevensoSt.Claire’sHospicefeelslikeafuneralhome.There’snosunlight,noclocks,nodirectlighting,nosoundaboveasolemnwhisper.Everythingisbeigeorgray.Crosseshangineveryroom,fadedhotel-qualitypaintingsofmeadowshangineveryhall,andanabundanceofnursesscurryaroundsilentlyoncrepe-soledshoes.Plasticholdersstuffedwithpamphletsaboutdealingwithgriefareaffixedtoeveryverticalsurface.
“Thisisextremelydepressing,”Marilynsayswhenwestepofftheelevator.
“I’mgoingtowatchTV,”Heathersayslikeateenager,andslouchesofftofindthelounge.
Welethergoandheaddowntheneutralcorridorfullofopendoors,followingthenumberstoMichelle’s.Eachdoorrevealsitsowntinydrama.
Familymembersglanceupatmefromtheirdeathbedvigils,nursesbrushpastusastheyglidefromdeathwatchtodeathwatch,strainedrespirationrattlesfromrooms.
Idon’tlikeithere.Ican’tseetheexits,Idon’tknowwhat’saroundthecorners,andwekeepgoingdeeper.IwishIhadn’thadthisidea.
Finally,wegetto1211.Iexpectedacoptobesittingatthedoor,oranoticeposted,orsomethinglettingpeopleknowthatMichelleisindangerbecauseofDani,butherdoor’snotevenclosed.Wepushitopenandstepinside.
Ahuskliesinthemiddleofthebed,swaddledinsheets.TherearenoIVs,nocatheters,noheartmonitorsormachines.She’sbeyondthatnow.
EvenMarilynwiltsalittle.ThisistheroomwhereMichellewilldie.
“Doyouthinkthat’sbotheringher?”anursewhispers.
MarilynandIgiveastart.Wedidn’tevennoticeherfollowusinside.
She’sgivingthecrossonthewallatthefootofMichelle’sbedameaningfullook.
“I’msureshedoesn’tmind,”Marilynwhispers,andthenthenurseisgone,leavinguswiththeloveofDani’slife.Weapproachthebed.
“…Dani?”Michellewhispers.
She’syellow,herlipsarechapped,hereyesburnwithanintensitythatstandsoutagainstherwaxyskin.MarilynputsonehandonMichelle’sforeheadandsmoothsbackhergrayhair.
“Daniwantstobehere,”Marilyntellsher.“Iknowshe’dgiveanythingforthattobepossiblerightthisminute.”
Michelle’slipstrytoformwords.
“Lynnette,”Marilynsays.“Goaskthenurseforalittlespongeandacupofwater.Doyouwantsomeicechipstosuckon,honey?”
Michellenods.
“Andgetussomeicechips,too.”
Igooutinthehall,unsurewheretogetallthisstuff.Iheadtothenurses’stationandtheyjumptoitliketheywerejustwaitingformetoask.
Ifeelsweaty.Therearenowindowsbuttoomanydoors,toomanyhalls.
Michelle’sroomhasnoalternateexits.Idon’tknowmyescaperoute.
WhenIgetbacktotheroomwithmyfoamcupoficechips,myyellowspongeinacracklingplasticwrapper,andmybottleofoff-brandwater,thenurseiscomingoutwiththecrosstuckedbeneathherarm.
“Doyouthinkshewantstoseearabbi?”shewhispers.
“Why?”Iask,genuinelyconfused.
“We’llbefine,”Marilynsaysfrominsidetheroom.“Thankyou.”
Thenursegivesabrisknod,andshe’sgoneagain.IgoinsideandhandoffeverythingtoMarilyn,thenhangaroundthefootofthebed,asfarawayfromMichelleasIcangetwhileMarilynraisestheheadofthebedandholdsthecupoficechipstoMichelle’slips,andthen,whileMichellesucksontheice,Marilynpatsthedampspongeacrosshercrackedlips.Imarvel.
WheredidMarilynlearntodoallofthis?Michellerollshereyestoherandlooksgrateful.
“Youjustrest,”Marilynsays,strokingherhair.“Iknowyou’retired.”
“Thankyou…”Michellecroaks.“…Iknow…I’mnotpretty.”
Marilynsmiles.
“Well,neitherisDani,soyoutwoareaperfectpair.”
MichellegrimacesandpantsalittleandIrealizethatshe’slaughing.
Oneofherhandscomesoutfromunderneaththeblanketandscrabblesdesperately,clutchingattheair.Marilyntakesherhand.
“I…loveyou…”Michellesays.
“Weloveyou,too,”Marilynsays.“AndIknowDanilovesyouverymuch.You’rethebestthingthateverhappenedtoher.”
“She…promised…Icould…behome,”Michellesays.“Whenthis…happens…”
“Iknow,”Marilynsays.
“Iwanted…tosee…”Michellesays.“…sheplanted…new..
wenevergot…enough…”
Sheyawns,abigjaw-cracker.
“Iknow,”Marilynsays.“Noneofusgetenoughtime.”
“Berightback,”Imumble.
AllthedeathsI’veeverseenwerefastandmessy.Tommy.Gillian.
Mom.Dad.I’veneverbeenaroundthisslowfadebefore.Can’tMichelleavoidit?Can’tsheyankacordandhaveitoverwith?I’mangryatherforforcingmetowatchherdie.I’mscared.IknowwhatIhavetodo.
IfindHeatherattheendofthehallinanalcove,sprawledovertwochairs.CNNplaysonadonatedtelevisionset,turneddownlow.
“Yourboyfriendjustgaveapressconference,”Heathersays.
“We’regettingMichelleoutofhere,”Isay.
“Fuckyeah,”Heathersays.“Thisplaceisthepits.”
Shepushesherselftoherfeet,gladtohaveagoal,satisfiedtoscrewthesystem.IgivetheTVonemoreglanceaswegoandseeaphotoofmeatsixteen,allacneandbadperm.Ifeelatrapclosingaroundme.Iwanttobeoutside.
“Marilyn’scoolwiththis?”Heatherasksaswewalk.
“She’stotallycool,”Ilie.
Wegobackintothedeathtrap.Marilynhaspulledtheonlychairuptotheheadofthebedandshe’sholdingoneofMichelle’shandsinbothofhers,restingherelbowsonthemattress.Shelooksup.HeatherandIstandthere,awkwardly.
“So,wetookavote,”Isay.“Andwe’retakingMichellehome.”
“We’rewhat?”Marilynsays.
“IsDani…coming?”Michellepants.
“No,”Isay.
“Yes,”MarilynsaystoMichelle,thenturnsonme.“We’renotgoinganywhere.We’regoingtositwithMichelleuntilDanigetshere.Wearenotgoingtomovethislady.”
“Michelle,”Isay,bendingoverher,surprisedshedoesn’tsmellbad.
“Daniisn’tcoming.Notforanotherdayortwo.Butwecantakeyoubacktotheranchrightnow,ifyouwantusto.”
“Idon’t…think…they’lllet…”shegasps,hereyesreadingmyfacefromlefttoright.
“That’snotsomethingyouneedtoworryabout,”Isay.“Daniisinjail.
Theyarenotlettingherouttoday.”
“Youdon’tknowthat,”Marilynsays.“Shemightalreadybeonherway.”
“Really,Marilyn?Youreallythinktheyalreadyletherout?”
“Well…”Shepauses,dropshereyesbacktoMichelle’shand.
“Exactly,”Isay.“Michelle,Daniwon’tbehere.Butwecantakeyoutotheranch.Rightnow.Youcanbehome.Allyouhavetodoissaytheword.”
Michellestaresatmethewayonlyadyingpersoncan,totallyfocusedonmyeyes,nobullshit,allattention.
Shenods.
“Dani’sflowers…”shesays.
“YouwanttoseeDani’sflowers?”Iask.
Shenods.Herlipsquiveraroundthewordforamomentbeforeshecansayit.
“…yes…”
“Thisisfuckedup,”Heathersays.
“Excuseme,butwhatareyoudiscussing?”thenursesaysinanormaltoneofvoicethatsoundsembarrassinglyloud.Wedidn’tevenhearhercomein.
Weallturn.Iimaginewealllookguilty.Thenurselooksconfused.
“Nothingyouneedtoworryabout,”Isay.“Canwegetawheelchair?”
“Well,no,”shesays.“I’mafraidMissGatewaycannotbemoved.
We’rekeepinghercomfortablebutshemustremainhere.”
“Okay,”Isay.“I’llgetthewheelchair.”
“Wedon’tevenknowwhoyoupeopleare,”thenursesays,lookingfromHeathertoMarilyn.
Ibrushpastherandwalkoutintothehall.There’sanemptywheelchairsittinghalfwaydownwithabigwhitestencilonthebackthatreadsNO.43
Irollitbacktotheroom.Marilynisinaconversationwiththenurse.
Michelle’sfeetarejigglingrestlesslybeneathherblanket.Heatherispressingherselfintothecorner,probablywonderinghowshecanswipesomepainmeds.
“Ican’tletyoudothis,”thenursesaystoMarilynasIparkthechairattheheadofthebed.
“Youdon’tgetavote,”Isay.
Shesizesupthesituation,lookingfromMarilyn,tome,tothechair,toMichelle,andscurriesout.
“Iresentyouputtingmeinthisposition,”Marilynsays.
“Okay,”Isay.“Helpmegetherintothechair.”
Marilyndoesn’tmove.Insteadit’sHeatherwhowhipsbackthesheets.
I’mterrifiedtoseewhat’sbeneaththecovers,butcomparedtomyimaginationMichelledoesn’tlooksobad.There’snotmuchofherleft,butit’salltuckedinsideherhospitalgown.Itmakesmefeelbraveenoughtotouchher.Iscoopherup,onearmunderherback,oneunderherknees.
She’sverycoldandshedoesn’tresist.Ilift,andshe’slighterthanI
imagined.Igooseherbonyassononeofthearmsofthewheelchair.
Michellegrimaces.
IsettleMichelleinthechair,andimmediatelyshestartsshaking.
“Getherblankets,”ItellHeather.
Wetuckthebaby-blueblanketaroundMichelle’slegs,andHeatherfindsanotheroneinthecloset.IleanMichelleforward,dropitbehindherback,anddrapeitoverhershoulders.Michellemakesanotherpainedface.
“Letmedothat,”Marilynsnaps,exasperatedbymyineptitude,andshetuckstheblanketaroundMichelleandsettlesherback.
MichellepullsonMarilyn’sarmwithonequaveringhand.
“Thank…you,”Michellesays.“…thankyou…”
Marilynstraightensandpinchesthebridgeofhernose.
“Youwillhavealottoanswerfor,”shesaystome.
“Youtakepoint,”Isay,feelingright,feelingonmission.“Heather,bringuptherear.Downtothesecondfloor,overtotheparkinggarage,andthentothecar.”
IglareatMarilynuntilshegivesmeanod.
Werolloutoftheroominformation,mepushingthechair,Marilynwalkinginfrontofus,Heatherfollowingafewstepsbehind.IleftJuliaandFinebehind.Iwon’tleaveMichelle.There’sascrumofdoctorsandnursesandorderliesbythenurses’station.Theystepintoourpath.
“Excuseus,please,”Marilynsaysaswepushthrough.“I’msosorry.
We’reinarush.”
Theyscatter,thenregroupandfollow,andIhearachorusof“Whoareyou?”and“Whereareyoutakingher?”ThenHeatherdoesherthing.
“Backoff!”sheshouts.“Justbackoff!”
Iheartheclickety-clickofaboxcutterbladeslidingoutofitsplastichandle,andIdon’tneedtolookbacktoknowshe’stakingwildswings,keepingthemallback.Werollquickly,Marilynsettingafastpace,passingdoorsfullofred-eyed,cryingfamilieswrappeddeepintheirownprivatedramas.
“Excuseus,”Marilynchirpsasshebrushespastnurses.“Pardonme.Sosorry.Ifyoudon’tmind?Thankyou.”
Theelevatorbankisupahead,andwe’realmosttherewhenIseetwosecuritygoonscomingdownthehallfromtheoppositedirection.Theyhavegiantbellies,greenbaseballcaps,greenwindbreakers,andtheybothlooklikethey’reonthewrongsideoffifty.Thismightbethefastestthey’veeverwalkedintheirlives.
Oneofthemslowstoastop,blockingthehall,holdinguphishandwithcasualarroganceasifofcoursewe’regoingtostopbecausehe’samaninajacketthatsaysSecurityontheback.
“Girls,”hesays.“Party’sover.”
Marilynreacheshimfirst,andmyheartleapstoseeherpushingthecallbuttonasshespeaks,pouringallthatwarmTexashoneyintohervoice.
“Sir,”shesays.“Wearehergoodfriends,andwe’rezippingherhometopickupsomethings.We’llberightback.TheytoldusitwasfineatthedeskandIdosohopewehaven’tdoneanythingwrong.”
“Thisisahospice,”thesmallersecuritygoonsays.“Peopledon’tgohome.”
“Well,shejustneedsafewthings,”Marilynsays.
“Idon’tcareaboutthat,”theonewithhishandoutsays,steppingforwardandcoveringthecallbuttonssoMarilyncan’tpushthemanymore.
Thetwogoonscrowdtheirbigbelliesaroundher.“Youneedtoletthedoctorstakethispatientbacktoherroom.”
“Howdoyouknowher?”theothersecuritygoonasks.
“Weallbelongtothesamebookclub.”Marilynsmilessweetly.
Theelevatordingsandthedoorrumblesopen.There’sateenagedgirlwithblack-rimmedeyesstandingagainsttheback,apackofcigarettesandlighterinonehand.MarilynplacesherbodybetweenthesecuritymenandthewheelchairandHeatherjoinsher,standingshoulder-to-shoulder.
“Whatthefuckisyourproblem?”Heatherasks.“Shewantsout.Isthisafuckingprison?”
Ipushthewheelchairontotheelevatorbehindthem.
“Miss!”oneofthegoonsshouts,suddenlyfranticasheseesmegettingaway.“Youcan’tdothat.Miss!”
Istopnexttotheteenager,Michellefacingthebackwall.
“Marilyn?”Isay.“We’rein.”
SheandHeatherstepbackintotheelevatorandHeatherstartsjammingonthe2buttonandDoorCloseatthesametime.OneoftheguardsmakesthemistakeofgrabbingMarilynbyherarm.Thedoortriestoclosebutbouncesoffhisbeefybiceps.
“Ican’tletyougirlsdothis,”hesays.
Marilynreachesintoherpurseandpullsoutasmallblackcylinder.Shetouchesittohiscrotch.There’sasnappingcrackleandthemanleapsbacklikehe’sbeenkickedbyamule,thenhe’ssittingontheground,crying.
“Iamsosorry,”Marilynsays.“Ifeeljustawfulaboutthis.”
Thedoorscloseandafteragut-twistingsecondtheelevatorstartstodrop.There’ssilenceforamomentandthen:
“Youzappedhiminthenuts,”theteenagedgirlsays,incredulous.
“FuckingA,”Heathersays.
“IwantyoutoknowthatIdeeply,deeplyresentthepositionyou’veputmein,”Marilyntellsme.
Thedoordingsandwegetoffontwo.
“Haveaniceday.”Marilynsmilesatthegirlasweleave.
Wepushthroughthedoubleglassdoorsandenterthecool,darkgarage.
Ilistenforechoesofcopcarscoming,forthesquealoftiresturningcorners,forsquawkingradiovoiceslookingforfourfemales,oneinawheelchair,butthegarageissilent.Ipushthechairoverthegrease-stainedconcreteuntilwereachMarilyn’sSUV.
“Letmebackitout,”shesays.
“You’dbetternotfuckingditchus,”Heathersays.
“Sweetie,”Marilynsays,“ifIcouldfigureouthowtodothat,I’dhavedoneitlongago.”
Shepullsherselfupintothedriver’sseat,thenslamsthedoorandhertaillightsflarered,thenwhite,andshereversesoutnexttous.IliftMichelleintothebackseat.
“I’m…sorry…”shesays,shortofbreath,asIcliptheseatbeltaroundher.It’spracticallyflatagainsttheseat.There’snotmuchofMichelleleft.
“It’sokay,sweetheart,”Marilynsays,turningaroundinthefront.“Youjusthangonandwe’llhaveyouattheranchlickety-split.”
“Shotgun!”Heathercalls,haulingherselfintothefrontseat.“What?
I’mnotsittingnexttoadeadwoman.Nothingpersonal,Michelle.”
Michelletriestomoistenherlipsandspeak,butshe’stooweakandhertongueistoodry.Isitnexttoherandwe’reoutofthere.There’snogateattheexit,probablybecauseit’dbeinbadtastetobringpeopleheretodieandthenhittheirfamiliesupformoneyonthewayout.Therearenocopcarswaitingforus,notevenaparkinggarageattendanttowritedownourtags.
Withthewheelchairslidingandthumpingaroundintheback,wecrawlovertheanti-tiredevicesattheexitandthenpulloutontothestreetandheadforthefreeway.That’swhenwerealizewehavenoideawhereMichelle’sranchis.
“Julia’sbeen,”Isay.
“Well,Julia’snothererightnow,”Marilynsays.“Heather?”
“Don’tyousendherfuckingChristmascardseveryyear?”sheasks.
“ToherPObox,”Marilynsnaps.
“Michelle?”Iask.“Michelle?”
She’sturnedherfacetothewindowandhashereyesclosed,baskinginthesunlight.
“Michelle,weneedyoutogiveusdirectionstotheranch,”Isay.
Shenods,withoutopeninghereyes,thensayssomething.Ileaninclose.
“The10,”shewhispers.“The10…the10…”
“Takethe10,”ItellMarilyn.
WepassthroughdowntownL.A.,noneofustalkingmuch.Marilynturnstheradiotolitejazz.Ilistenforsirens.Iknowthisisn’tgoingtoendwell.Icanalreadyfeelitstartingtofallapartinmyhands.Nexttome,Michellemumblestoherself.
“Sweetheart,whatdowedooncewe’reonthe10,”Marilynasks,flickinghereyestotherearviewmirror.“Dowegetonthe101?Askherifwegetonthe101.”
“Michelle,”Isay.“Dowetakethe101?DoyouhaveastreetaddressIcanputinmyphone?”
“Didanyonebringherpurse?”Marilynasks.
“The10,”Michellesays.Thenshesayssomethingelse,andIleaninclose.“I’msorry…”shewhispers.Shelookslikeshe’sabouttocry.
“It’sokay,”Isay.“Really,it’sokay.”
Idon’tknowifsheheardmesoIpatherhand.It’sdry.
“Shedidn’thaveapurse,”Heathersays.
“I’mbeginningtoseesomeflawsinthisplan,”Marilynsays,lookingatmeintherearviewmirror.
“Whatexitdowetake,Michelle?”Iaskheragain.
“Dani’sflowers…”shesays.
“That’sright,”Isay.“We’regoingtoseeDani’sflowers.Butweneedtoknowhowtogetthere.We’reonthe10,sowhatexitdowetake?”
“I’mgoing…”shegasps.“Tosee?”
“WejustpassedVeniceBoulevard,”Marilynsays.“I’mprettysuretheonlyexitwecantakeafterthisisthe405.”
“Unlesswe’regoingupthePCH,”Isay.
“Oh,forPete’ssake,”Marilynsays.
Aripe,rottensmellfillsthecar.
“Didsheshitherself?”Heatherasks,furiouslyfanningtheairinfrontofherfaceandrollingherwindowdownalltheway.“Oh,fuck,itreeks.
What’sshebeeneating?”
Marilynveerstowardanexit.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask.Wecannotstop.Therearecops.Therearemonsters.Wehavetokeepmoving.
“Iamnotgoingtoletthiswomansitinherownmess,”shesays,curvingdowntheexitrampontoasurfacestreet,headingtowardaRalphssupermarket.“SheisDani’sspecialfriend,andshedeservessomedignity.”
“Notmuchdignitywhenyourpantsarefullofshit,”Heathernotes.
Marilynparks,cutsofftheengine,androundsonHeather.
“Thisisanaturalhumanprocess,”shesnaps.“Wewillaccordhertherespectthatanyofuswouldexpectifwewereinhersituation.Youtwo
needtogentlytakeheroutofthecarandgetthematIhaveforchangingtiresfromtheback.Layheronit,andI’llberightback.”
Shesnatchesherpurseandisgone.
“Lynne,makemeapromise,”Heathersays.“Ifthiseverhappenstome,justthrowmeinaditchandwalkaway.”
SherefusestotouchMichelle,soafterIscantheparkinglotIunbuckleherseatbeltandpickherup.Idon’twanttotouchherbutIdon’twanttobelikeHeathereither.What’swrongwithus?Isawmyfamilykilledbeforemyeyesanddidn’tmakeasound,butconfrontedwithmyfriend’swife’sshitI’msqueamish?Whyarewemorecomfortablewithfast,dramaticdeathsthantheslowdecaymostpeopleget?Afterall,isn’tthiswhywefoughtsohard?TohavetherighttodowhatMichelleisdoingrightthisminute?
“OfcourseMarilynhasayogamatforchangingtires,”Heathercomplains,spreadingitontheparkinglotnexttothecar.IlayMichelledownonitgently,butdon’tknowwhattodonext.Hereyestracksomethingacrossthesky.Ilookupbutthere’snothingthere.We’retooexposed.Ican’tseeanyonecomingthroughallthesecars.
—
Didyoutwogetherundressed?”Marilyndemands,returningloadedwithbags.
“Hell,no,”Heathersays.
“Youaresuchchildren,”shesays.“Thiswasyouridea,Lynnette.Whatareyouwaitingfor?”
MarilyninsiststhatHeatherholduponeoftheblanketsfromthehospiceasaprivacyscreen,andshebossesmeintounwrappingtheotheronefromaroundMichelle’swaistandraisingherhospitalgown.
“I’msorry,”ItellMichelle.
Idon’tthinkshehearsme.
She’swearingadiaper,andMarilynbrisklyundoesitandIslideitoff.
It’sfullofablack,tarrymess.Marilynfoldsitoverandpopsitintooneoftheemptyshoppingbags.Thensheusesagallonofwaterandsomedish
towelstowashMichelle’sbottom.Ikeepaneyeonourapproaches.Ilistenforsirens.MarilynblotsMichelledry,thenmakesmehelppullanotheradultdiaperupherlegs.
Togetherweputtheunprotestingwomanintothebackseatandbuckleherupagain.Shedoesn’tseemtonotice.
Marilynrollsupthewetmatandtucksitintooneoftheshoppingbags,stilldrippingwater.
“Heather,gothrowthisaway.”
“I’mnottouchingthat,”Heathersays.“Justleaveit.”
“Wearenotlitterbugs,”Marilynsnaps.“ThrowthisawayorI’llsmackyou.”
Heatherheadsoff,luggingthebagsandthewetmat.Ikeepaneyeoutforcops.She’sbackinafewminutes,thenwe’repullingoutoftheparkinglotandheadingdownOlympicBoulevard.
SomethingscratchesatmeandIlookdowntoseeMichelle’shand,blindlyscratchingatmyfingers.Idon’tknowwhattodo,soIopenmyhandandsheweavesherfingersintomine.They’restrong.Sheneverlooksatmeonce,stillstaringoutthewindow,eyeswidenow,lipsmoving.
“Doyouknowwherewe’regoing?”Iaskheragain.
“Tosee…Dani…”shesays.“…Dani’sflowers…”
“Thisisuseless,”Heathersays,puttingherheadinherhands.
“Getoutyourphone,”Marilynsays.“We’llcallDr.Carol.She’llknowwhereDani’sranchis.”
“She’sgoingtofreakthefuckout,”Heathersays,speakingforbothofus.
“Yeah,”Isay.“Idon’tthinkthat’ssuchagoodidea.”
“Yourlastgoodidealandedusinthispickle,”Marilynsays.“OneofyouiscallingDr.CarolorIwillthumpyou.”
“Mybattery’sdead,”Heathermumbles.
MarilynthrustsheriPhoneather.
“Usemine,”shesays.“She’sintheaddressbookunderElliott.”
Michelletakesagreat,shudderingbreath,thenyawns.Icounttofivebeforeshetakeshernextbreath.
“Ican’tfindit,”Heathersays,swattingawayMarilyn’shandsastheytrytotakebackherphone.
Theybothfeelveryfarawayandquietallofasudden.
Michelletakesasuddendeepbreath,thenbeginstopant.
“Um,she’snotdoingverywell,”Isay.
Marilyntakesaquicklookback.
“Ifoundit,”Heathersays.
Marilynoverhandsthewheelhardtotheleft.IslideintoMichelle.
“We’renotgoingtotheranch,”Marilynsays,straighteningthecar.
“Ithoughtthatwasthewholepoint?”Heathersays.
Marilyndoesn’tanswer.
“Howisshe,Lynnette?”sheasks.
“Notgood,”Isay.
Marilynparksandgetsoutofthecar.
“Youtwo,come,”shecommands.
IpullmyhandoutofMichelle’sandslideoutthedoor.Shedoesn’tseemtonotice.We’reinawell-to-dosuburbanneighborhood,parkedonthesidewalknearacitypark.It’sabiggrassysquarewithtwopathscuttingitintoquarters,dottedwithtreesandpicnictables.Idon’tseemanypeople.
Westandonthesidewalk,Heatherslouchedagainstthehood.
“Nowwhat?”Heatherdemands.
“Thiswomandoesn’thavemuchtime,”Marilynsays.“NowIdonotagreewithyourchoices,butyoumightnothaveforcedustodotheworstthingintheworld.Weneedtobewithhernow.Sheisgoingtopass,andsheisgoingtopassoutdoors,andifsheasksifDani’shereyouarebothgoingtosayyes,andifsheasksifsheisatherranchyouarebothgoingtosayyes,also.”
“But—”Heatherbegins.
“Especiallyyou,”Marilynsays.“Thiswomanisnotgoingtodieinthebackofacar.”
Marilynturnsonme.
“Yes,ma’am,”Isay.
MichelleyawnsandflexesherhandswhenIopenthedoor,andthethreeofus,withHeatherhelpingaslittleaspossible,managetogetherintothewheelchair,thenwrapherintheblankets.Wepushherintothelittlepark.It’searlyandthereareonlyahandfulofoldChineseladiesdoingtaichi,andanelderlymaninpantsuptohisarmpitsjabbingatmolehillswithhiscane.
“Overhere,”Marilynsays,andwerollMichelletooneofthepicnictables,andthenIturnheraroundsoshe’sfacinginthedirectionofthesea.
Ican’tseeitbutIcansmellwetsaltonthebreezefromoverthatway.
Thesunblastsdown,turningtheparkpreternaturallygreen.
“Dani?”Michelleasks.
“She’srightherebesideyou,”Marilynsays.
Heathermouthsthewordliaratme,butIseeMichellesmile.
“Green,”shesays.
MarilynrubsMichelle’sbonyshoulderthroughherhospitalgown.
“Everyone’swithyou,Michelle,”shesays.“We’reallrighthere.”
Michelle’shanddoesalittleleapfromthearmofherwheelchairtomywrist,thenslidesdownandfindsmyhand.Inoticethatshe’sclingingtoMarilyn’sfingerswithherotherhand.
“Good…friends…”Michellesays.
Ialmostdon’thearheroverthenoiseofthewindinthetrees.Shepantsalittle,squintingintothesun,thencloseshereyesbecauseit’ssobright.
Shestops,thengivesagasp,stopsagain,thenletsoutalong,rattlingsigh,andI’mholdinghandswithadeadwoman.
IcanfeelDanipacinginherholdingcellontheothersideofthecity,franticwithfear,terrifiedthatexactlywhatjusthappenedhashappened.
Thetwoofthemweretogetherforever,andwhoeverthisis,whateverconspiracythey’vewoven,they’vekeptDanifrombeingintheoneplaceintheworldshepromisedtobe.It’sacrueltysosharpitcutsmeopen.
Whoeverdidthis,whateversickmonsterrobbedDaniandMichelleofeachotherattheendofMichelle’slife,I’mgoingtomakethemsuffer.
It’sawhilebeforeIcanbringmyselftopullmyfingersoutofMichelle’shand.Itfeelscruel.
“Weshouldgo,”Heathersays.
“Wehavetogetherbackinthecar,”Marilynsays.Nowthatherperiodofusefulnessisover,she’satlooseends.“Takeherbacktothehospice,orsomething.”
“Wecan’tdrivearoundwithher,”Isay,andnoticeI’mwhispering.“Ithinkthepolicearelookingforallofusnowandyourwindowsarenottinted.”
“Ivotewedon’tdrivearoundwithacorpse,”Heathersays.
“WearenotleavingMichellealoneinapublicpark,”Marilynsays.
“Okay,”Heathersays,andwalksaway.
“Wearenotleavingherhere,”Marilynsays.“It’sillegal.”
“Dani’snotgoingtopresscharges,”Isay.
“Thecitywill,”Marilynsays.
“Forwhat?”Iask.
“Idon’tknow,”Marilynsays.“Littering?”
I’mstartingtogetnervousagain.We’reoutintheopenwithtoomanyapproaches.We’vegotaheadstart,butIneedtoconvincethemthatweshouldusethisopportunitytoputsomedistancebetweenusandallthepeoplelookingforus.ThebreezemoveswispsofMichelle’shair.Ismooththemdown.
“Thatbeatsitall,”Marilynsays,diggingthroughherpurse.“Didyouseemyphone?”
“No,”Isay.“Look,weneedtogetmoving.Peoplearelookingforus.”
“IswearIjusthadit,”Marilynsays,ignoringme.
“Marilyn?”Isay.
“Lynnette,”shesays,stoppinghersearchforthephone.“Ijustwanttosay—”
“Yes,Iknow,”Isay.“Howunhappyyouarewithme.”
“Iwasjustgoingtosaythatwedidaverygoodthingheretoday,”shesays.“Let’scallDr.CarolandtakeMichelletotheranch.Wecanlayheroutthere.”
“Good,”Isay.“It’sasecurelocation.WeneedtogetJuliafirst,thengetDanioutofjail,holeupandridethisthingout.”
ThesoundofHeathertalkingtoachildgetscloser.Ilookupandseeherwalkingtowardus,leadingtheoldmanwithhispantsuptohisarmpitsbyonearm.Hestumpsalongbesideheronhiscane.Hisswollen,tendereyesstreamwaterbehindoversizedmedicalsunglasses.
“Guys,”Heathersays.“ThisisCarlDeWolfeJr.”
“Pleasedtomeetyou,”hequavers,lookingapproximatelyinourdirection.
“Oh,no,”Marilynsays.
“He’sgoingtositwithMichellewhileshewaitsforherride,”Heathersays.
“It’sadangerouspark,”CarlDeWolfeJr.says.“Aladyshouldnotbeunaccompanied.”
“Exactly,”Heathersays,helpinghimsitdownonthepicnicbenchnexttoMichelle’swheelchair.“That’swhyyou’regoingtositwithMichelleandwait.Itshouldn’tbelong.”
“Itisanhonor,”CarlDeWolfeJr.says,inclininghisheadinMichelle’sdirection.“Ienjoyagoodconversation.”
“She’smoreofalistener,”Heathersays.
Sheleadsusaway.
“Thisislow,”MarilynhissesatHeather.“Evenforyou,thisislow.”
“What’sthebigdeal?”Heatherasks.
“Thebigdealisthathemightdefileher,”Marilynsays.
Istopwalkingandlookback.
“I’mwithHeatheronthisone,”Isay.
ThetwoofthemstopandseewhatI’mseeing.CarlDeWolfeJr.patsMichelle’shand,chatteringawayather,andthenheleansoverandadjuststheblanketaroundhershoulders,pullingithigher.
“Anyway,”HeathersaysaswecontinuetowardMarilyn’scar,“Ialreadycalledanambulance.Here.”
ShehandsMarilynbackherphone.
“Youwhat?”Isay,butHeatherisalreadyhangingback,separatingherselffromme.
“Youcan’tjusttakethingswithoutpermission,”Marilynsays,scrollingthroughhercalllist.“Whohaveyoubeencalling?”
Heatherisgrinninglikeshe’sashamedofsomething,andI’mstaringather,andthenIhearthevoicethatmakesallthetimedisappearandI’msixteenagain.
“Well,hellothere,prettylady,”itdrawls.“Beenlookingalloverforyou.”
GarrettP.Cannoncomesupthesidewalkinhisthree-piecebeigesuit,cowboyhatpulledlowtothrowaslashofblackshadowacrosshiseyes.
Hiswhitemustachesquirmswhenhetalks.
“Youjusttrytorun.”Hegrins.“BecauseIamitchingtotakeyoudownhard.”
Copcarspulluponeitherendofthestreet.Copsswarmupthesidewalk.Copscomeacrossthebrightgreenlawn.Istoppedwatching.Istoppedcheckingmysix.Istoppedpayingattentiontomysurroundings.Iloweredmyguard.
“Whatdidyoudo,Heather?”Iask.
“Itwasyouorme,”shesays.“Youorme.”
Ilookatthecops.Icangooverthehoodoftheparkedcarnexttome.
There’sagapintheirline,andIcanmakeittothestreetandrun.I’mstupid,stupid,stupid.Ican’tbelieveIletmyguarddown.
“Youdidthis?”MarilynasksHeatherlikeshecan’tbelievewhat’shappeningeither.
Thepolicegetbetweenus,separatingmefromthem.
“Therestofusaresurvivors,”Heathercallsatme,stillbackingaway.
“Youwerealwaysjustavictim.”
ShemeltsintothelineofpoliceandIknowshe’scutadeal,shetradedmetosaveherself.It’swhatIdidtoJulia:abandonedhertosavemyself.
It’sunforgivable.
Itense,readytofakeleftandrunright,butGarrettknowsmetoowell.
Thesecondmymusclesbunchuphewhistlesbetweenhisteeth,andthecopsareonme.Ibreakthefingersandthumbofthefirstonewhograbsmy
wrist,buttherearemore.Therearealwaysmore.Intheend,theytakemedownhard.
—incidentreport,AmericanFork,Utah,PoliceDepartment,December24,1990THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXI:
BetterWatchOut!
Thegoodthingaboutinterviewroomsistheyalwayssityoufacingthedoor.Thebadthingaboutinterviewroomsisthey’realwaysfullofcops.Thebaldhipsterdetectivewithanecktattoopeekingoverhiscollarsitsacrossfromme,bulgingoutofhisMen’sWearhousesuit,handsclaspedontopofanopenmanilafile.Aladycopsitsnexttohiminanavypoloshirt,armsfolded,leaningbackinherchair,radiatingcontempt.Everyoneelseisintheotherroom,watchingonthecamerathathangsfromtheceiling.IassumeGarrett’sinthere,probablyeatingpopcorn.
“WhendidyoufirsthavesexwithSantaClaus?”Men’sWearhouseasks.
I’msosurprisedIalmostopenmymouthtoanswer.AretheseGarrett’s
“shockingrevelations”?
“Letmerepeatforthehardofhearing,”Men’sWearhousesays.“CanyoutellusthedateofyourfirstsexualencounterwiththeSantaClausKiller.”
Ineedtoknowwhatthehellthey’retalkingabout,butnooneeverregrettednottalkingtothecops.
“Lawyer,”Isay.
“DidyouhavesexwiththeSantaClausKillerbeforeorafterhetriedtokillyou?”hesays.
“Triedtokillyoutwice,”LadyCopamends.
“Thesecondtimewasn’thim,”Men’sWearhousecorrectsher.“Itwashisbrother.”
Thewallisanicecolor.Sortofapaleyellow.IwishIcouldrestmyeyesonitforever.
“Lawyer,”Irepeat.
“Doyourecognizethemaninthisphotograph?”
Men’sWearhouseslidesaneight-by-tenglossyacrossthetable.Rickywantedtobeanactor,andhisheadshotswoundupinhisfile.Thereheis,three-quartersangle,givingmeaslysmilefromthetabletop.Castingdirectorsprobablythoughthewascharming,fullofdevil-may-careattitude,butallIcanseeisthecrazy.
“Lawyer,”Irepeat.
IfocusonMen’sWearhouse’snecktattoo.Itlookslikeawoman’sname.Lucille?Shanelle?Janelle?
LadyCopmakesanimpatientsound,pushingairoutbetweenherteeth.
“Whataboutthisman?”Men’sWearhousesays,peelingupRicky’seight-by-tenandputtingdownamugshotofBilly.
Billydidn’ttakecareofhimselfthewayRickydid.Helivedrough,hadhisnosebrokenplayingfootball,buthe’sgotthesamesoap-opera-actorlooks,althoughit’shardtotellfromthepicture.Theybeathimupbeforetakinghismugshot.I’mnottoosadaboutthat.
“Lawyer,”Irepeat.
“Thepublicdefender’sofficeisswamped,”LadyCopsays.“Weconveyedyourrequestandtheyhopetohavesomeonedownherebytheendoftheday.”
“Ortomorrow,”Men’sWearhousesays.
“I’llwait,”Isay,tryingtokeepmylungsfromcrampingshut.
Men’sWearhouseandLadyCopstandupandwalkoutoftheroom.
TheyleavethephotosofRickyandBillyWalkerlookingupatmefromthetable.
Thecamera’sstillwatchingsoIcan’tscream,orcry,orbangmyheadonthetable,ordoasinglethingIwant.Ittakesallmywillpower.Isthiswhat’sgettingspreadeverywhereaboutme?IhadsexwithRickyWalker?Ican’teventhinkthatsentencewithoutmystomachfeelinggrease-slickedandslimy.
Ifocusontakingdeep,fullbreaths.Idon’tlookatthephotos.Irestmyeyesonthewall.AfteralongtimethedooropensandGarrettcomesinalone,carryingathinmanilafolder,wearinghisparadefloatofacowboyhat,andhisshitty,patronizingsmile.
“Nobodyherebutuschickens,”hesays,puttingthemanilafolderonthetable
Asusual,theroom’snotbigenoughforme,andhim,andhiscologne.
“Inoticeyoudidn’treallyhavemuchinthewayofconversationforLosAngeles’sfinest,”hedrawls.Hepronouncesit“LosAng-guh-lees.”
“SoIconvincedthoseboystogiveussomealonetime.Youandmeareoldfriends,solet’sbypassthepleasantbanter,detouraroundthechitchat,waveafondfarewelltothe‘how’stheweather,preacher’partoftheprogram,andgetdowntobrasstacks.How’sthatsoundtoyou?”
Helooksintomyeyes.It’slikehavingaflashlightshineinmyface,butIwon’tlookaway.
“Idon’tlikeliars,Lynney.ButI’mgivingyouachancetodotheChristianthingandcomeclean.”
He’ssosmugandarrogantthatIforgetmyself.
“Aboutwhat?”Iask.
“Shespeaks!”hesays,makingabigproductionofopeningthefoldersoIcan’tseeitscontents.“Hallelujah.”
Thephotoshepullsoutdon’tbotherme.Iwatchedtherealthinghappen.ButthewaythatonesecondI’mlisteningtohimstrutandpreen,andthenextthetableiscoveredinglossyshotsofmydeadfamily,itdrawsahotironbandaroundmychest.NowIknowmylawyerisn’tcoming.
“Yeah,theyalwaysgetmethesameway,too,”hesays,smoothingdownhismustachewithhisfingertips,watchingmefrombeneaththebrimofhishat.Hepullsoutthepictureofmyfather’scorpseandputsitontop.
“Irespectedthehelloutofthatman.”
Heleansoverthetable,thebrimofhishatbonkingmeintheforehead.
Hespeakslowandslow.
“HowlongwereyouhavingcarnalrelationswithRickyWalker?”heasks.
Thewordsdon’tmakeanysense.
“YouknowIdidn’t”comesoutinawhisper.
“Billysaysdifferent.”Hesmiles.“TheboyhasfoundJesusandcannottellalie.”
“Mydadsaidyoucouldn’tevendirecttrafficataBulldogsgamewithoutsomeoneholdingyourhand,”Isay,makingmyselflookhimintheeyes.“Whoseideawasthis?”
Heflashesmeathinsmilethatshowsasliceofhisteeth.
“Soyou’resayingyoudidn’tfuckRickyWalkerforsixmonthsbeforethekillings?Yourstatementisthatyoudidn’taskhimtomurderyourparents?You’resayingthatyoudidn’ttellhimyouhatedyourfather?Youdidn’tconvincethatpoorpsychoticboytomurderyourfolks?That’stheproblemwithpsychos,Lynney,youcanlead’emtowaterbutyoujustcan’tmake’emkillthepeopleyouwant.Theytendtogohog-wild.”
SuddenlyIhaveanideaofwhatelseisinsidethatfolderandIcan’tholdontotherealworldanymore,andI’mtumblingintothisfucked-up,through-the-looking-glasshorrorshowwhereeveryoneelseisalreadywaitingforme.
“That’snottrue,”Isay,butitsoundssmall.
“Noonelikesacopkiller,Lynnette.”Hesmiles.“Especiallycops.”
“Ididn’t…”Ibegin.
“Aw,ofcoursenot,”hesays,cuttingmeoff.He’stryingtogetmeworkedup.He’ssucceeding.“You’reonlyanaccessory.It’snotjustBilly’sword,either.Becauseitdoesn’tmatterhowmuchJesusaconvictedserialkillerhasinhisheart,mostjudgesdon’tgivethatshitforcredibility.”
Iseethemall:Mom,Dad,Gillian,Tommy.Iclosemyeyes.
“Howdidyouthinkitwasgoingtogo?”heasks.“WasRickygoingtokillyourboyfriendandyourparentsforyou?”
IrememberTommytryingtoprotectme,Tommynotstayingdown,TommygettingupoverandoveragainnomatterhowbadRickyhurthim.
Ihearthemanilafolderopen.Aplasticevidencebagcrinkles.Hereadsinasickeningfalsetto.
“DearRicky,don’tputyourreturnaddressonyourletter.Mydaddyisthechiefofpoliceandifheknewyouwerewritingtome—”
That’swhenIgooverthetable.
Theywerewaitingformerightoutsidethedoor.Men’sWarehouseleadsthechargeandtheypourintotheroom,forcingmedown,crushingmyribcageagainstthetable.Theyshacklemeanddragmeoutoftheroom.
Theyhaven’tbeenwastingtheirtime.Onewholewallofthecelltheythrowmeintoisplexiglass.Ontheothersideoftheglassthey’vemadealittledisplayforme:anartificialChristmastree,allsetupwithtwinklinglightsandeverything.
LadyCoptapsonthewindow.She’swearingaSantaClaushatandabigwhitebeard.
Istartscreaming,andshejuststandsontheothersidewithalltheothercopsandlaughsandlaughsandlaughs.
—
ThecellwhereI’mgoingtodieissmallerthanMichelle’shospiceroom.
It’sbrightlylitandtheywatchmethroughtheplexiglasswallincaseItrytokillmyselfbeforetheycanarrangetohavemekilled.Theplexiglassisunbreakable.IknowthisbecauseIalreadytriedtobreakit.Thewallsarelightpinkcinderblock,thefloorisconcrete.ThereisaslabstickingoutfromthewallwhereIcanliedown.Behindtheslabisastainless-steelpedestalwithasinkontopandasteeltoiletontheotherside.IfIcrouchoverthetoiletandbenddownuntilmychestisonmykneesIgainsomesmallmeasureofprivacy.Theygivemearolloftoiletpaperbuttakeawaymyshoelaces.
Idon’thateHeatherforcallingGarrettanymorebecauseI’msavingupallmyhatredformyself.Ifallthesecopsweren’twatchingme,I’dhavekilledmyselfbynow.I’vegotnoshoelacesbutI’mresourceful.I’dbiteoffmytongueandchoketodeathonmyownbloodifIknewtheywouldn’tbeinherebeforeIbledout.
It’scold.Ifallasleepontheslab.There’snoblanket.Atonepoint,IwakeupandabunchofcopsarewatchingmeandsingingChristmascarols.They’vetapedaSantaClausdecorationtothewindowsoIcanseehisface,allredandjolly.Theywantmetogivethemareaction.Ican’thelpit.Igivethemone.
IwaitforMarilyntoshowupwithalawyer.IwaitforJuliatoarrivewiththepublicdefender.IwaitforDani,forDr.Carol,forsomeonetosavemefrommyself.ThenIrememberthatJuliaisinthehospital.Daniisincustody.AndMarilynandHeatherandDr.CarolprobablyhatemebecausetheythinkI’vecommittedtheonesinwecan’tforgive:lyingdownwithyourmonster.TheyallthinkI’manotherChrissyMercer.
Icanfeelitoutthere.I’monthenewsagain.WhattheyimagineIdid.
Theslutwhosleptwiththekiller.MyhighschoolpictureandRicky’smugshot,ourfacespastednexttoeachotherlikeacoupleatprom,bouncingallovercablenewsasasingleimage.
IlookupandseeGarrettstandingnexttotheChristmastree.Whenheseesmewatching,heflipsmethebird.
It’sfunny,buthe’stheonlymanI’veeverloved.
ChristmasEve,1988,AmericanFork,Utah.“SweetChildO’Mine”byGunsN’Rosesiseverywhere,butIprefer“NeverGonnaGiveYouUp”byRickAstleybecauseI’macheerleader,andI’mhappyallthetime,andI’minlove.TommyBurkhardtlooksjustlikeJordanKnightandmymomcallsusCharlesandDianabecauseshethinkshetreatsmelikeaprincess.Eventhoughwe’veonlybeendatingforsixweeks,it’ssixweeksthatstartedinmid-NovemberandtakesmerightthroughChristmas,andIknowhe’sgoingtogetmeanawesomeChristmaspresent.
Myparentswouldprobablyhavegottenadivorceifmydaddidn’tcaresomuchaboutappearances.He’sthechiefofpoliceofasmalltownandhe’sinvestedinthatNormanRockwellthing,sohehidesattheofficewhileMomplayshappyhomemakerandmakeseverythingasperfectaspossibleallthetime.Itdrivesusallcrazy.They’redoingthebesttheycan,butGillianandIbothknowsomething’sgottogive.
She’seleven,andwe’vetalkedaboutwhat’sgoingtohappenwhenMomandDadgetdivorcedandwe’vedecidedweekendswithDad,weekdayswithMom,andwe’renotsplittingup.Sisterssticktogether.Bothofushopeit’llhappensoonbecauserightnowwe’rewalkingoneggshells.
ChristmasEvecomes,andDadwondinnerfortwoatthatItalianplacedowntown,andhereadinamagazinethattheyshouldtrytohavesometogethertime,sohecomestoGillianandmeallseriousandasksforourblessing.Therestaurantiswheretheyhadtheirfirstdate,andhe’ssonervoushishandsaresweating,andofcoursewesayyes,andashe’sleavingfortheirdinnerheasksmetomakesurehistieisstraightandthenhesays,“Wishmeluck,”andsuddenlyhe’snotmydadatall,he’saguygoingonadate,andImeltinsideandactuallypraytheyfigureitout,kneelingbesidemybedwithmyhandsfoldedandeverything.
IlovedChristmas.IlovedthenonstopTabernacleChoirChristmascarolsplayingatthemall;IlovedtheanimatedmoviesaboutelfdentistsandRudolphtheRed-NosedReindeeronTV;IlovedMomgoingintobakingoverdrivesothehousealwayssmelledlikehotsugarandwarmbutter;Ilovedwrappingpresents.ItmademefeellikepeaceonEarthwaspossible.ItmademefeellikeafancydinnercouldsolveMomandDad’smarriage.
Tommycalledtosayhe’sbringingmemypresent,andIsentGillianupstairs.
“WatchTVinMomandDad’sroom,”Isaid.“Donotcomedownstairs.”
“You’vegotadate,”shesaid,andIhateherforbeingannoyingandloveherforbeingakid.
IopenedthedoorforTommyandI’mtotallyblownawaybyhowgood-lookingheis.I’mnotbad,butIneverthoughtI’ddothiswell,especiallysinceShasheenaGrotepashadhereyeonhim.Wemadeoutforawhile,andthenhegavememypresent:aChristmastreepinwithrubyandemeralddecorations.
Twenty-twoyearslaterIknowthey’refakestones,butwewereonthepooltableintherecroomandIhadmyshirtoffandhesetitonthecurve
ofmybreastandIrememberhowthegoldglowedagainstmyskinand,likeIsaid,IlovedChristmasmorethananything.
MomandDadweren’tduebackuntilelevenp.m.,anditwasonlyeightp.m.,soeveniftheyfoughtIfiguredwehadatleasttwohours,andsoIdecidedthiswouldbethenightwewentalltheway.Thingsgothotandheavyonthatpooltable,butIplannedtomovetothesofaupstairs.Itwassuper-softandhadatonofafghanssowecouldmakeanestandtakeourtime.
Thenthedoorbellrang.
“Isthatyourfolks?”Tommyasked,sittingboltupright.
“Theyhavekeys,”Isaid.
Ipulledhisfacebacktomine.Sweatrandownmychestandpooledbetweenmybreasts.Dadalwaysturnedtheheatuptoohighinthehouse.
Hehatedthecold.
Thedoorbellrangagain.
WithagroanIrolledoutfromunderTommy,grabbedhishockeyjersey,andpinnedmyChristmasbroochtothecollar.
“Hurryback,”hesaidasIpulledonmystirruppantsandstartedupthestairs.
Thosewerehislastwordstome.
Iwassixteen,andkindofstupid,andwekneweveryoneinAmericanFork,soIjustopenedthedoorwithoutlookingoutthewindow.
Noonewasthere.Itwasfreezingcold,butIstoodforaminute,breathinginthewoodsmokefromtheneighbors’chimneys,withmyboyfriendinthebasement,hisgiftonmycollarbone,thinkingIwashotstuff,imaginingIhadthewholeworldonastring.
ThenSantaClauscamearoundthecornercarryinganaxe.
Atfirst,Ididn’trecognizeRickyWalker.AllIsawwastheSantaClaussuitandIthoughtitwassomeoneonthehockeyteamplayingajoke.Ididn’tthinkitwasfunnysoIslammedthedoorinhisfaceandturnedthethumblock.
Ittookhimtwoswingstobustthedoorwideopenandhecameinwiththecold.ThatwaswhenIrecognizedhim.
“Ricky?”Iasked.
Hecameatmewithhisaxe,andwhenIscreamedTommycameupstairs.Hetriedtoprotectme,buteverytimehegotintheway,Rickyhithimwithhisaxe.Finally,Tommy’sheadwassomisshapenthatIbeggedhim,“Tommy,staydown!”
RickyembeddedhisaxeinTommy’sneck,andthenhecameforme.Imanagedtoscratchuphisface,buthetoreoffmyjersey,liftedmeup,andcarriedmeintothelivingroom.MydadhadbeenabighunterbeforeGillianwasborn,andhe’dbaggedawhite-tailedbuckwithahugerackofantlersonatripandmounteditsheadonthelivingroomwall.ThatwaswhatRickyimpaledmeon.
AtfirstIdidn’tunderstandwhathurtsomuch,andthentheantlerswerepushingintomesohardIthoughtthey’dtearmeinhalf,andthentheywereinsideme,andIwatchedthemcomeoutmyfront.
Iwasalittletinythingbackthen,barelyninety-fivepounds,andtheantlerswentinjustabovemykidneysandcameoutjustbelowmyribcage.
Ihungtherefortenhoursinshock,andtheantlersandtheweightofmybodykeptmefrombleedingout.IslippedinandoutofconsciousnessasIwatchedGilliancomedownstairs,asmymomanddadcamehome,asRickytookcareofthemall.
WhenIwassixIthoughtIwasGillian’smom.TheyletmemakeherJell-O,andgetherreadyinthemornings,andevengiveherabathuntilIsawNoMoreTearsonthesideofherJohnson’sBabyShampoo.IalwaystriedtobesocarefulwhenIwashedherbabyhair,butthenIsawthatlabelanditsmelledsogood,andthethickyellowshampoolookedlikehoney,andIpouredhalfthebottleinhereyesbecauseIthought“NoMoreTears”
wasamagicformulathatmeantshe’dnevercryagain.Shehowledsoloudmyeardrumsrattled,andMomswoopedinandscoopedherupandpressedhertothesideofherneckandgotsoangry.
“Lynnette,”shesaid.“Youhavetoprotectyoursister.”
I’msorry,Gilly.
Hedidthingstoherbody,totheirbodies,heperformedscenarios,peeledthemeatofftheirbones.AtonepointMomandIlockedeyeswhile
RickywasfocusedonDad,andMomsawthetearsrunningdownmyface.
SheknewthatifRickysawmecryinghe’drealizeIwasstillalive,andsoMomattackedhim.Shetookhisattention.Shegothimtofocusentirelyonherforalong,longtime.Shewasagoodvictim.Ihopeitdidn’thurt.Ihopeshewasdrunk.
I’llneverfindoutifMomandDad’sdaterekindledtheirromance.
Rickytooktheanswertothatquestionawayfrommeforever.AndMomneverlivedlongenoughtofindoutwhathappenedtoCharlesandDiana.
Whenthesuncameup,Rickysnoredinsidethebloodynesthe’dbuiltoutofmyfamily.Icouldn’ttellwhereTommy’sbodyendedandmydad’sbodybegan.Gillianwaseasytokeeptrackof,though.He’dputherheadonthemantelpiecelookingatme.
Rickywokeup,shuffledtothekitchen,andpissedinoursink.Hewasstillinthekitchenwhenthefirstcopwalkedintothelivingroom.
“Hello?”MikeMillercalledfromthebrokenfrontdoor.“Anyonehome?Karl?Carol?I’mcomingin.”
Iwantedtowarnhim,butIdidn’twanttogivemyselfaway.Hegotanaxethroughthechest.GarrettP.Cannonwasthenextcopthroughthedoor.
“Mike?”Garrettcalled,walkingintothehouse.“Mike?YoubetternotbestealingChristmaspresentsfromthechief.”
HesawRickysplittingopenMike’sribcagewithhisaxe.Rickystoodupandcameathim.IheardGarrettdrophisgun,cursing,andthenhepickeditupandfiredfivetimes.Therewassilence,andthenRickycamerunningbackthroughthelivingroom.Icouldn’ttellifhe’dbeenhitbecausehewasalreadycoveredinsomuchblood.
HesmashedthroughtheslidingglassdoorsatthefarendofthelivingroomasGarrettcameafterhim,fumblingwithhisreloader.HeseateditandemptiedhisgunintoRicky’sbackandIrememberseeingRickyflipovertherailingonourdeck,hisfeetgoingstraightupintheair.Theysaidhelandedsoharditsplithisskullintwo.
Garrettjuststoodthereforaminuteinallthegunsmoke,lookingattheslickofskinandmuscleandsplinteredbonethathadbeenmyfamilyand
theboyIloved.Mybrainfeltfaraway,butImanagedtowavemylefthandinlittlecirclesatthewristuntilGarrettturnedaround.
“Holyshit,”hebreathed,lookingupatme.ThenhewentoutsideandemptiedtherestofhisammointoRicky’scorpse.HegotontheradioandcalledinallthebackuphecouldfindonChristmasmorning.
Theyshotmeuponpainkillersbeforetheysawedtheantlersoffandtookmetothehospital.Iwasunconsciousforalmosttwodays.Garrettdidn’tleavemysidetheentiretime.
Iwokeupunabletolieonmyback,soreinawayIdidn’tthinkwaspossible.Evenmytoenailsached.Garrettbroughtmenewsandupdates,hebroughtmeflowers,heliedandsaidI’dbeenwearingaT-shirtwhenhefoundme.ToplessunmarriedgirlsmakingitwiththeirboyfriendsinUtahweren’tgoingtoearnmuchsympathybackthen,andGarrettwantedtomakesureeveryonesawmeasthepureandinnocentvictiminthisstory.
Hesatnexttomeatmyfirstpressconference,theonewhereIleanedoverandupchuckedalloverthetable.Hetoldmystoryforme,andontheinterviewcircuitIsatnexttohimandsmiled,andwhentheyaskedmequestionsIsaidhewas“myhero,”hewas“myeverything,”hewas“myknightinshiningarmor.”Itwastrue.Atthetime,theonlythingstandingbetweenmeandscreaminginsanitywasGarrettP.Cannon.
IsitanysurprisethatIfellinlove?
—
FortwoyearsIwasahappylittleidiotwhodidwhatshewastold.Iputitallbehindme.Itriednottodwell.
“Whyliveinthepast?”Ichirped,smilingbravely.
MyfosterparentswereeverythingIcouldhavewanted.ThenextChristmas,theyalmostconvincedmethatthingswerenormal.Werentedmovies,wenticeskating,stayedinthehouseandplayedmarathongamesofMonopoly,cookedelaboratemeals,anythingtokeepmymindoffRicky.
ThefollowingChristmasIgaveMikeandLizpermissiontotrysomeChristmasdecorations,andwassecretlymorethrilledthanIexpectedwhenIsawwrappedpresentswithmynameontheminthelivingroom.Ilet
myselfthinkeverythingcouldbenormalagain.ThatMikeandLizweregoingtohelpmehaveanactuallife.Ididn’tcountonRicky’slittlebrother,Billy.Noonedid.
Billywasservingtimeinalockedpsychwardforattackinghisnext-doorneighborinafightoverwhatdaytheyputouttheirgarbagecans,andheblamedmeforwhathappenedtohisbigbrother.WhenChristmasrolledaround,hedecidedhejusthadtoletmeknowhowhefelt.HegotaSantasuitfromsomewhereandstrangledhisroommate,thenstartedashootoutintheintakeroomthatkilledtwopeople,bothofthemcops.Ofcourse,whenpeoplerealizedwhosebrotherhewas,everyonewentonhighalert.IwasdesperatetospeakwithGarrett,buthewasbusytellingthepresshowhehadtobecarefulaboutgazingintotheabyssbecauseitalsogazedintohim.
Buthedidtakethetimetopostcopsoutsidemyfosterfamily’shouse.
Fourcops,actually,alloutsidethefrontdoor.WhichmeantthatBillycameintheback.Carolwasfirst.ThenMike.
Iwastooscaredtomove,tooscaredtorun,andmyscarsthrobbedlikefreshwoundsforthethreehourshekeptmeinthekitchen.AtfirsthebeatmewheneverImadeanoise.Thenhebeatmeforfun.Heusedacast-ironkitty-catdoorstopthatCarolloved.Thebackofmyskullwassopulpedtheyhadtoputametalplatein.ThefewtimesI’veflownafterthatIusuallysetoffthemetaldetector.
I’mprettysurehewouldhavekilledmeifoneofthecopshadn’trungthedoorbelltousethebathroom.Billyshothimandwentouttheback.Ittookthemtwenty-fourhourstofindhimhidinginaNativitysceneataLutheranchurch.Garrettshothimatexactly3:14a.m.onarainyChristmasmorning,thendraggedhimoutbleedingandtossedhiminthebackseatofhissquadcar.Nofull-clip-in-the-backtreatmentthistime.Bynow,Garrettknewthatalivekillermadeallthedifferencewhenitcametobookdeals.
Onceagain,GarrettwaswaitingformewhenIcameoutofsurgery,readytotakecreditforsavingmeasecondtime.Before,I’dworshippedthegroundhewalkedon.Ithadbeenpuppylove.ThistimeIwaseighteenandhewantedmorethanapuppyforhisreward.Thefirsttimewehadsexwas
inmyhospitalroom.Hewastwenty-threeyearsolderthanme.Ididn’tcare.
Hehadawifeandkids,butwhenhewasn’tatmyapartmentI’dcallhishousecrying,begginghimtocomeprotectme.GarretttoldhiswifeIhad
“imprinted”onhimlikeaduckling.Itwashersecondmarriage.Herfirsthusbandhadgonetoprisonforshootingherbrother.Shewasn’tthekindofwomanwhoaskedtoomanyquestions.
Fortwoyears,Garrettwasmyeverything.Hehandledallmymediarequests,lookedoverallmycontracts,wenttoallmymeetings,andIdidwhateverhewanted.Ifeltcaredforandprotected.Ididn’tseehowmuchhewasgettingoutofthis,too.
GettingmeouttoL.A.andintothefirstSlayBellsmoviewasabigdealforhimatthetime.Theproducersneededagimmicktomakepeoplenoticetheirbargain-binproduction,andIwasdumbenoughtobelieveGarrettwhenhesaidit’dbegoodforme.Ineverthoughttoaskhowmuchthey’dpaidhim.AtthelastminuteIhadapanicattack,bailed,anddrovebacktoAmericanFork.Hesaidhedidn’tmindthatI’dscreweduphisdeal,butafterthathestoppedcallingmeasoften,thenhestoppedcomingbyentirely,andafterawhileheforgotaboutmeandIcriedmyselftosleepeverynightforalong,longtime.
IthoughtGarretthadleftmealone,buteventuallyIrealizedIhadalwaysbeenalone.Ihaddoneeverythingthey’dtoldmetodo,andithadhappenedagain.Noonehadbeenabletokeepmesafe.Noonehadwatchedoutforme.Iwastheonlypersonwhocouldkeepmesafe.AndsoIdid.
SometimesanentireyearwillgobywhenIbelievethat’sthewholestory.ButinmyheartIknowIdeservetobeinprison.Inmyheart,IknowIdeservetobeinHell.
Ofcourse,nowthattheyhavetheletters,everyoneelseknowsit,too.
—Dr.CarolElliott,privatenotesonsessionwithLynnetteTarkington,May2002THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXII:Hellbound
It’scoldinhere.Thecentralairclutchesmybones.Noonetalkstome.
Noonetellsmewhat’shappening.Instead,theytapemyletterstotheglasswallsoIcanreadeveryline.They’rephotocopies,butIcanstillseesentencesIrememberwritingonmyHollyHobbiestationerywithitsrosestwiningaroundtheborders.
Twicetheytakemeoutofmycell.Oncetobephotographed.Onceforacoldshower.BothtimeswhenIcomeback,therearemorecopiesofmoreletterstapedtotheglasswall.Idomybestnottolook.
Threetimesaday,thedooropensandacopbringsastackofhigh-sidedbrowntraysintomycellandleavesoneonthefloorwithalltheceremonyofadogdroppingaturd.Icountthemtotracktime.Onecomeseveryfivehours,startingateighta.m.
Somewhereouttheremypaperworkisbeingpushedthroughthedigestivetractofthelegalsystem,andsoontheywillopenmydoorandinsteadoftakingmetotheshowertheywilltakemetoacourtroomwheretheywillsetbailtoohighformetopay.Whenthathappens,I’llbesentintothegeneralpopulationtowaitformytrial,wheresomeno-hopelunaticwillstabmetodeathwithasharpenedtoothbrushinherbidforfame.She’llprobablybeabletoselltheshivthatkilledafinalgirlforacoupleofhundredbucksonline.Evenashivthatkilledanot-quite-final-girllikeme.
AndIdeserveit.
That’swhattheyalwayssaidaboutme:I’mnotarealfinalgirl.Theotheronesingroupfoughtbackandkilledtheirmonsters,butme?Ijust
hungonthoseantlerslikeapieceofmeat.Ijustlaythereonthelinoleumgettingmyskullpulped.Ididn’tsaveanyone.GarrettP.Cannonsavedme.
Somecopdropsalunchtray:banana,apple,twoslicesofwhitebread,twoslicesofbologna,apacketofmayo,twosugarcookies,andafruitpunch.WhileIeattheapple,phrasesfrommylettersjumpoutatme.
“…wishyouwerehereandwecouldescape…”
“…howisyouractingcareer,areyouinanythingI’veseen…”
“…didyouhearthenewMetallicaalbum…”
Irememberbeinghappyallthetimeinhighschool,buttheseletterstelladifferentstory.
“…Dadactslikewe’resuspectsandhe’sjustwaitingforustomakeasinglemistakesohecansendustoprison…”
“…hemadeGillianscrubtheshowerwithhertoothbrush…”
“…wishsomeonestrongerthanhimwouldshowupandgivehimatasteofhow…”
“…Ihatehim…”
“…thisfamilyislikebeinginHell…”
“…wishhewasdead…”
“…he’dbetooscaredtosayanythingtoyourface…”
“…pleasesaveme…”
Dadhadbeeninthearmyandhaddefiniteideasaboutlawandorder.
Maybehewasstricterthanheneededtobe,butIdon’trememberhatinghimthismuch.Everyteenagerthrivesonconflict,however,andIcan’timagineIwasanexception.AfterBillyWalkerIsandeddownourroughtimesandpolishedupDad’shalountilit’sbrightenoughtoblindmetothepast.
Infifthgrade,Mrs.Margaretassignedpenpals.Mostofthemwereinfostercare,likeRicky.Theotherkidslostinterestafterafewmonths,butnotme.NotRicky.ForsixyearswewrotebackandforthandInevertoldhimtokillmydadbutIgavehimmyhomeaddress,IsaidweshouldrunawaytogethertoL.A.,Itoldhimmydadyelledallthetimeandmymomwasouttolunch.AfewtimesIeventoldhimIwishedmyparentsweredead.
Teenagerstalklikethis,right?Evenifit’suglyinretrospect.Ididn’tknowtherewasabloodyengineinsidehisheadjustwaitingforsomeonetoturniton.Ineverknewthekeywasshapedlikeasixteen-year-oldgirl.
IfIhadn’twrittentohim,ifIhadn’tgivenhimouraddress,ifIhadn’taskedhimtorescueme,RickyWalkerwouldhavegonetosomeotherhouse.Hewouldn’thavekilledthebelovedpolicechiefofasmalltown.Heandhisbrotherwouldn’thavekilledfivecops.
Inthisfreezing-coldpolicestation,I’msurroundedbytheonlypeopleonearthwhohatemeasmuchasIhatemyself.
WhenIwokeupinthehospitalIthoughtthey’dhavetheletters,butnoonesaidanything.SoIdidn’tsayanything.Ikeptwaitingforsomeonetosaysomething,buttheyneverdid,soIneverdid,andafterawhileIbegantoforgetIevenwrotethem.SometimesIimaginedthemturningupbecause,afterall,theyhadtobesomewhere,andthosewerethebadnights.
OnthosenightsI’dmakemyselfexerciseuntilIdry-heaved,I’dforcemyselftocleanmyweaponsuntiltheywerespotless,toscrubmyentireapartmentuntilsunup,topunishmyselfashardasIcould,butnothingIdidhurtmeasmuchasthethoughtofthoseletterscomingout.
Buttheyneverdid.
“Excuseme,”asoftvoicesays.It’sthecop,theonewhosefingersIbroke,theonewho’swearingagreenmetalsplintonhislefthand.He’spickingupmymealtray.“Youfinished?”
Ihaven’teatenanythingexcepttheapple.Ican’teatwiththewalloflettersstaringdownatme.Iseeeverythingstillonmytray.Inod.I’mfinished.
—
HowdidtheletterscometoGarrett’spossession?InviteGarretttoamallopeninginAlaskaandhe’dbethereinaflash,aslongashethoughtitmightboosthisbookandDVDsales.Takingthebaithasneverbeenaproblemforhim,butsomeonehadtothrowthebaitoutthereinthefirstplace.
Whentheyoungcopwiththebrokenhandbringsthelunchtraythenextday,Istareatitforalongtime.It’sthesametwoslicesofbread,thesamemayo,thesamesugarcookies,thesamefruitpunch,butthere’sturkeyinsteadofbolognathistime,andanorangeinsteadofabanana.Whomadethatdecision?Theremustbeakitchensomewhereinthestationwheretherearepeopleworkingtodivideuploavesofwhitebread,countingslicesofturkey,takingjuicecartonsoutofthecooler.They’relookingattheirorderforms,goingovertheinmatelist,checkingtheirinventory.
It’samiracleoflogisticswhenyouthinkaboutit.IbetifIwerekosherthere’dbeakosheroption,ifIwereMuslimthere’dbesomethinghalal.
Thattakesalotofpeople.Thattakesateam.
Heathergotmearrested,butshegottheideawhenshesawGarrettonTV,andhewasonTVbecauseBillyWalkercameforwardwiththoseletters.That’slessthantwenty-fourhoursaftersomeonetriedtoburndownHeather’shalfwayhouseandHarryPeterWardencameforwardandconfessedtoDani’smurders.Andthatwaslessthantwenty-fourhoursaftersomeonefollowedJuliaandRussellThorntomyapartmentandshotthemboth.AndthatwasthesamedayChristopheVolkersatinAdrienne’spantrywaitingforhertocomedownstairs.
Onepersonisn’tdoingthisunlessthey’rethemostorganized,highest-functioningsociopathinexistence.Thisisn’tasinglemonster.Thisisaconventionofthem.
Thequestion:whohasavestedinterestinmakingmedead?Irefusetoacceptthatthisisallacoincidence,thatabunchofdifferentpsychopathsarepursuingtheirseparateagendas,takingadvantageofthesituationasitunfolds.NotseeingapatterniswhatgotmeintroublewiththeWalkerbrothers.I’llnevermakethatmistakeagain.
SomeonegotChristopheVolkerontoCampRedLake.SomeoneconvincedHarryPeterWardentocomeforward.SomeonegotRussellThorntoshowupatexactlytherightmoment.Someoneattackedusinmyapartment.Someonefoundmyletters.Whohatesusthismuch?Whocouldcoordinatepeopleinsideprisonandoutsideprison?Whoknowseverysingleoneofourweakpoints?
Whenthesoft-voicedcopwiththebrokenhandbringsmemynexttrayhesays,“You’vegotavisitor.”
—
Theytakemetoawarmerroomwithalongtablerunningdownthemiddle.Therearepartitionsbetweenplexiglasswindowsthatlookontotheothersideoftheroom.There’saphoneoneithersideofeachwindow.
Wordlessly,I’mtakentooneoftheboothsandsatdown.OntheothersideoftheglasssitsDr.Carol.
Shelookstired.She’snotwearingmakeup.There’sathickpileofpapersonthecounterinfrontofher.IdropthephonebecausemyfingersarestillnumbandI’msoexcitedtoseeahumanbeingwhodoesn’thateme.
“Dr.Carol,”Iask.“What’sgoingon?Didtheytellyouwhat’shappening?Noone’stalkingtomebutIthinkIhavethisfiguredout.”
“Stop,”shesays.
Eventhoughwe’reonlyacoupleoffeetaway,thephoneisabadlong-distanceconnection.Ileanforwardandlowermyvoice.
“Someoneisdoingthis,”Isay.“Morethanoneperson.It’stheonlywayeverythingcanbehappeningallatonce.Someoneisouttotakedowngroup.”
Inoticethatshe’slookingovermyrightshoulder.Ilookbehindme,butnoone’sthere.
“Wehavetogetsomewheredefensibleandstartfiguringthisout,”Isay.“WeneedtogetthevisitorlistsforHarryPeterWardenandBillyWalker.Myguessiswe’llseethesamenameonbothlists.I’mprobablysafeinhereforanotherdayortwo,sofocusongettingeveryonewho’sstillatlibertytogetherandtoadefensiblelocation.We’resofttargetsaslongaswe’rescatteredallovertheplace.”
Dr.Carollooksatmewithacompletelackofunderstanding.It’sgettinghardformetostaycalm,butIknowIhaveto.Itaketwobreathsbeforeshespeaks.
“Whydidyoudoit,Lynnette?”sheasks.“Whydidyoudothis?”
AtfirstIthinkshe’stalkingabouttheletters,butthenIreadthetopofthestackofpaperinfrontofher.AllIwanttodoisgobackintimeandundoeverything,becauseIrecognizethetitlepage.
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup,itreads.ByLynnetteTarkington.
Ittakesallmystrengthnottohangupthephone.
“Ididn’twritethat,”Isayautomatically.
“Itcameinmyemaillastnight,”shesays.“Everyonegotone.”
AslongasIkeeplookingdownatwheretheplexiglassmeetsthedeskIcanpretendherfaceisasfarawayashervoice.
“Who?”myvoiceisvery,verysmall.
“IhavenoideahowMarilynandHeatherfeel,”Dr.Carolsays.“ButIknowthatIamdeeplyhurtbyyourdescriptionsofme.”
“Thisiswhathewants,”Isay.“Don’tyousee?Hewantsusdivided.
Hewantsusconfusedsowedon’tfocusontheimportantthings.”
“Ihaveneverregardedyouastrophies,”Dr.Carolsays,ignoringme.“Idon’tcollectyou.YouaremypatientsandIcareabouteachofyoudeeplyasindividuals.Ihavedevotedsomuchofmycareertohelpingwomenlikeyou.Ihavespentsomuchofmylifetryingtobuildaworldwherewomenlikeyoudon’thavetoexist.”
“Theimportantthingistofigureoutwho’sdoingthis,”Isay.“Thatbook’sjustadistraction.Someonestoleitoffmyharddrive.”
“Younevershouldhavewrittenit!”sheshouts,blowingoutthetinyspeakerinmyear.“ToaccusemeofneglectingmychildrenbycomingtogrouponChristmasEve…howcouldyoueventhinkthat?You’retheonewhofoughtloudestforustohavegroupthatday.YouthinkItreatyoulikepets?”
“Ineversaidthat,”Itry.
“It’sinyourbook!”shesays.“Howcanyousitingroupthinkingsolittleofme?Laughingatmebehindmyback?Whydoyouhateme?”
Allmywordskeepcomingbacktohurtme.Theletters.Thisbook.
EverythingIeverwroteisaweaponturnedagainstme.EverythingI’veeverthoughtcomesbacktomakemebleed.Who’stheonepersonwho
wouldknowhowtocoordinateallthis,whowouldknowallourfears,whowouldknowhowtocrippleuspsychologically?
IlookupandseeDr.Carolstaringatmethroughthescratch-cloudedplexiglass
“Why?”sheasks.“Ijustwanttoknowwhy?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.
“Youshouldstayaway,”shesays.“Nooneingroupwantstohearfromyourightnow.Idon’twanttohearfromyourightnow.”
AndthenIknow.It’ssomethingaboutherreaction.It’stoobig,likeabadactorinabadplaytryingtoconvincetheaudienceoftheirgriefbyshouting.It’ssomethingaboutthefactthatshe’ssoupsetyetshetookthetimetoprintoutmyentirebookandbringitherelikeaprop.Abadprop.
Thatstackofpaperistoothickforthetwenty-fivethousandwordsIwrote.
“Whyareyoudoingthis?”Iask.
Suddenlytherearesomanyreasons:maybesheneedsabumpinhercareer,maybeshe’sasociopathandthinksit’sfunny,maybeshethinkswe’reingratesandwantsrevenge,maybeshejustgottiredoflisteningtouswhineallthetime.
“Ihopeyougetthehelpyouneed,”shesays.Sheputsthephonedownonthecounterandthere’sahardknockinmyear.Shebendsoverforherpurse.
“Dr.Carol?”Ishout,tryingtogethertohearme.“Dr.Carol!”
There’smovementbehindme.They’recomingtotakemeaway.Shesitsbackup,rubbingherforehead,sayingsomethingIcan’thear.
“Pickupthephone!”Ishout,bangingontheplexiglass.“Answerme!”
Ishakethetableandtrytoshoutthroughthepartition.
“Dr.Carol!”Ishout,andI’mfuriousinawayI’veonlyeverbeenfuriouswithmyselfbefore.“Iknowyou!Wetrustedyou!”
Armsgrabmeattheelbows,handspressmefacedownonthedesk.
“Itrustedyou!”Iscream.“Itrustedyou!”
Theyputcuffsonmywristsandgrindthemetaldownintomybonesandwhentheypullmeuptheytwistmyarmsuntilitfeelslikemy
shouldersdislocate.IseeDr.Carol’sback,runningoutofthevisitingroom,andshecan’thearmenomatterhowloudIscream.
—
Ineedaphone,Ineedtowarneveryonethatit’sher,buttheharderIaskthelesstheylisten.Ismashthechocolatepuddingfrommydinnertrayonthewindowofmycoldcellandsmearitacrosstheglass.Iclogmytoiletwiththegreenbeansandthechickenpatty.Ibangthetrayagainstmycelldoorfortenstraightminutes.
Threedeputiesinriotgearcomeinandputmeinshackles.I’mmovedtoaninterviewroomandwhentheypickmeupandcarrymebackmytoiletisuncloggedandmycellhasbeenhoseddown.It’sstilldrippingwet.
It’sstillbitterlycold.NoonespeakstomenomatterhowmuchIexplainwhat’shappening.
Ihavetogettoaphone.IfIcangettoaphoneIcanwarnMarilynandHeather
Ibeguntilmythroatisrawandbleeding.Istarttokicktheglassandtheysendintheriotsquadagain.Thistimetheytakeoffmyshacklesandstuffmeinabrightbluepaddedvinyltubewitharmholes.It’sananti-suicidesmock.TheycallitaFergie.Itrykickingtheglassagainbutjustfallbackwardandcrackmyheadagainstthefloor.
Theyleavemelikethatforalongtime—onthefloor,unabletomove,facingmyletterstapedtotheplexiglasswall.
Ican’twaittoseeyouagain,thelettersaysincursivegirlhandwriting.
Ican’twaittomakelovewithyouagainandyoucantellmewhatyouwanttodotomydad.
IwasavirginwhenRickyWalkercametoourhouseonChristmasEve.
Ineversleptwithhim.Howwouldthathaveevenhappened?Ididn’twritethisletter.Thehandwritingisthesame,andthestationeryisHollyHobbie,butshe’sbakingmuffins.InalltheHollyHobbiestationeryIrememberowning,she’sgatheringwildflowers.Conclusion:someofthesearen’tmyletters.Someoftheseareforgeries.
WhenthecopcomesinwithmytrayItrytotellhim.IsayIhavetospeaktosomeone.Ibeghiminmybrokenvoice,pushingairthroughmyshreddedthroat,buthedoesn’tlisten.Noonelistens.Iamnotworthhearinganymore.
“I’msorry,”hesays,droppingthetrayonmyfloorwithoutmakingeyecontact,andscuttlesaway.
—
ForbreakfasthebringsmealogofNutraloafandasmallbottleofwater.
Ibeghimtopleasegetmeaphone,justonephonecall,that’sallIneed.
Hedoesn’tlookinmydirection,heactslikethisisanemptyroomandIwonderifI’mactuallytalking.MaybeIonlythinkI’mtalking?MaybeI’mgoinginsane?
Italkoutloudforafewminutes,listeningtomysandpapervoicebounceoffthewalls,butthatdoesn’tproveanything.Icouldbeimaginingthat.Ihavenowayofknowingifanysoundisactuallycomingoutofmythroat.
Theanti-suicidesmockishardtositupinbecauseitbarelybends,soIlieonmybackandstareattheceilingandtrynottothinkaboutthefakeletters.ItrynottothinkaboutthefactthatwealltrustDr.Carol.We’llopenourdoorstoher,we’llbelievewhatevershetellsus,we’llgoanywheresheasks.
IthinkaboutherfilesonallthosebabyfinalgirlsandIthinkaboutthatfileonherdeskforFugate,Stephanie,andIthinkabouthowlongshe’sbeencollectingusandthecoldcreepsinsidemysuicidesmockandpiercesmyfleshandcracksmybones.
ButwhatifI’mwrong?WhatifChristopheVolkerjustfinallysnapped?
WhatifsomerandomstalkertriedtokillJuliaatmyhouse?AndHeatherburneddownherownhalfwayhouseandliedaboutit,andHarryPeterWardenmadeupastorytogetoutofprison,andBillyWalkerfinallydecidedtorevealthelocationofthoseletters,andIwrotethatbook,andIwrotethoseletters,andI’mtryingtorunfromwhatIdeserve.
WhenIputshampooinGilly’seyes,IsawthatthelabelsaidNoMoreTearsandIdrewthewrongconclusions,thenactedonthem,andIhurtsomeoneIloved.Whatiftheonlyconspiracyexistsinsidemyhead?
No.
Dr.Carolistheonlyconclusionthatmakesanysense.IthastobeDr.
Carol.Ithastobe.
Otherwiseit’sjustme.
TheygivemeanotherlogofNutraloafforlunchbutIdon’teatit.
Whentheycometodropthedinnertrayit’stheyoungcopwiththebrokenhand,again.
“Ibroughtyousomething,”hesays.
Istruggletositupintheawkwardfabrictubeandmanagetosortofproptheupperhalfofmybodyagainstthewall.Mylegsstickstraightoutinfrontofme.Hechecksoverhisshoulder,thenquicklypullsagranolabaroutofhispocketanddropsitonmytray.
“Youneedtostaystrong,”hesays,andgivesmeasmile.
They’lldowhateverDr.CarolElliottsays.They’llfollowhertoanisolatedlocationwhereshecanterminatetheirtherapy,onebyone.She’lltakethemtoSagefire,herwellnessretreatinthemountains.That’swhatshe’lldo.Trapthemthereandstalkthem,andthey’lldie,trustingherrightupuntiltheend
“Ineedaphone,”Icroak.
“I’msorry,”theyoungcopsays.“AllIcandoisthebar.That’sallIcando.”
I’msorry,too.
—
Thesuicidetubekeepsmeimmobilizedandmymusclesstiffen.Mylegsthrobandachewithsluggishblood.IwanttohugmyselftostaywarmbutIcanbarelybendmyarms.Whenthecopwiththebrokenhandcomesback,helooksattheuneatengranolabarandshakeshishead.
Heputsthefreshtrayonmyslabbedandsquats,regardingme.
“Please,”Isaythroughcrackedlips.“Youhavetogetmeaphone.”
“Didyoureallylovehim?”heasks.
MybrainissonumbIdon’trealizewhohe’stalkingaboutatfirst.
“RickyWalker,”hesays.“Didyoulovehim?”
“No,”Icroak,notsurewherethisisgoing.
“Toobad,”hesays,andreachesoverandputsonebighandovermymouth.
Hepinchesmynostrilsclosed.Ican’tbreathe.AllIcantasteishissaltypalm.Ican’tgetanyair.Itrytositupbutheholdsmedowneasilywithhisbrokenhand.Helooksoverhisshoulder,thenturnsbacktomeandhehasalltheexpressiononhisfaceofamanfillinguphiscarwithgas.He’snotangry.He’sinsane.
“Everyone’sgoingtobesojealous,”hesays.
Whosaidthepolicecouldn’tbemonsters,too?It’stheendoftheroad,butmybodyreflexivelykeepsfighting.Iscratchathiswristsbutcan’tgetanyleverageintheFergie.Itrytokickbutthefabrictubetrapsmylegs.
Myskullthrobswithblackblood.GraycloudsrushinfastasIlosemyperipheralvisionandeverythingsoundssofaraway.
Ididn’taccomplishanything.IleftJuliableedingonmyfloor,Iranaway,Igotarrested,Iwounduphere,Idied.Allmyplanswereuseless,allmystrengthswereweaknessesindisguise.Ididn’tsaveanyone.Iwrotethoseletters.Iwrotethatbook.That’sallIeverdid.
Imakemylungsstopfighting.Myvisualfieldstartstoturnblack.
GarrettP.Cannon’svoicefloatsdowntomefromthetopofawell.
“Abouttime,”hesays.
Thecopturns.Garrettstandsinthedoorofmycell.
TheyoungcopletsgoofmymouthandIhiccupinhugeblastsofoxygen.Ican’tseemtogetenoughairtomybrain.Stillsquatting,thecopgoesforhissidearm.Garrettkickshiminthepointofhischinwithonecowboybootandthecopdropsonhisass,thensprawlsbackward,hisskullsmackingagainstthecinder-blockwall.
“Asshole,”Garrettsays,andstartstostomponhimwithhisboots.
Iblackout.
—transcriptofLt.BoudeEnrightandDeputyCarlHartmaninterviewingmultiplehomicidesurvivorMarilynTorres,July17,1978THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXIII:TheFinalSacrifice
WhenIwakeup,I’mnotintheFergie.I’minadifferentcell,onewithouttheletterstapedtotheobservationwall.There’saparamedicshiningaflashlightinmyeyes.Heasksmehowmanyfingershe’sholdingup.Itakeachance.
“Three?”
Theyleadmetotheshower.WhenIcomeoutmystreetclothesarefoldedonabenchinfrontofanangry-lookingfemaledeputy.Idrymyselfwiththewashcloth-sizedpieceofsandpaperthatpassesforatowel,andpullmyclothesonovercoldwetskin,andthewholetimeIcanstilltastetheyoungcop’shandonmytongue.ThewholetimeI’mwaitingforthiscoptopullherriotstickandbreakmykneecaps,crushmywindpipe,leavemechokingonmyownbloodonthewetconcretefloor.
Instead,sheshacklesmeinaninterviewroomforaverylongtime.
Finally,thedooropensandGarrettP.Cannoncomesinwearingoneofhismanytansuitsandgiantwhitehats.
“Readytohittheroad?”heasks.“Youandme’reheadedbacktoUtah.
TheLosAngelesPeeDeerealizestheydon’thavethewherewithaltokeepyousafelyincarcerated,sowe’regoingtotakealittletripbacktoAmericanFork,whereyou’regoingtostandtrialasanaccessoryinthemurderofyourmother,yourboyfriend,yourpoorlittlesister,OfficerMiller,andyourfather.Trustme,Lynnette,we’llfindawaytoaddonsomeyearsforyourfosterfamilyandthethreepoliceofficerskilledinthelineofdutythere,too.We’regoingtohaveourselvesafineoldtime.”
Hewinksatme.
“Wasitmydoctor?”Iask.
“Who?”Garrettasks,grinfading.
“WasitDr.Carolwhogotthatcoptotakeashotatme?”
“OfficerDeanFoleywasasuperfan,”hesays.“Apparentlyhe’sbeenwaitinghiswholeentirelifetogethishandsonyou.”
“Hedidn’tdoitalone,”Isay.“Thisisaconspiracy.Someoneelsewilltakeashot.”
“Guesswhat,OliverStone?”hesays.“Idon’treallygiveashit.Let’sgo.”
—
Whenthecopopensthedoortotheparkinglot,thesunhammersintomyeyeslikenails.Myice-coldskinhungrilysoaksupthewarmth.
ThisiswhyImovedtoL.A.inthefirstplace:nowinters.Myclotheshaven’tbeenwashedinaweekandthey’relimpandgreasy,butthesunkissesmealiveagainandtheairsmellslikesomethingbesidesall-in-onecleaningproduct.
“Moveyourass,”asteroidaldeputysaysovermyleftshoulder.
Ishuffleforward,followingGarrett,chainssingingontheconcrete,tryingtokeepmyheadonaswivelbecauseDr.Carolcouldhavehersniperhereagain,butIkeepgettingdistractedbyallthecolors.
I’moverwhelmedbytheminivans,andtheSUVs,andtheTransAms,andthebushes,andtheblueskywithoutasinglecloud.ThebreezesmellslikeCaliforniaandIfeellikeahumansacrificebeingledtothealtar.
Justwhenmyeyesaregettingusedtothesunbouncingoffeveryone’swindshields,IhavetosquintagainbecausethepasttwentyyearsdisappearandtheresitsGarrett’s1976cherry-redCadillacSeville.
“That’sabeauty,”thedeputysays,squattingtotaketheshacklesoffmyfeet.
“FirstcarIeverowned,”Garrettsays.“It’sgonnacostme$152ingastodrivetoProvobutshe’swortheverypenny.”
Idon’twanttogetinhiscar.Irememberbeinginittoomanytimesbeforewithhisbodyontopofmine,hishandsalloverme,butwhen
Garrettopensthebackdoorandguidesmeinsidewithhishandonthebackofmyhead,thewayallcopsdo,fromtheirfirstdayoftrainingtillthedaytheydie,Idon’tresist.What’sthepoint?AllIcandoisgoalong.
—
Heopensonecuff,thenlocksitaroundarestraintbarboltedtohiscardoor.
“Comfy?”heasks,thenslamsthedoorwithoutwaitingforananswer.
Ibaskintheheatwhileheandthedeputyshoottheshit.ThiscarwasGarrett’sprideandjoy,butnowhe’sputinarestraintbarandheavyblackmetalmeshseparatingthefrontseatsfromtheback.Itrythedoor.Itdoesn’topenfromtheinside.
“—butyoucomeseemenextandI’llbehappytotakeyourmoney,”
Garrettsays,gettingin.
Heslamshisdoorandwavestothedeputy,who’stakingapictureofGarrett’sridiculouscarwithhisphone.Garrettmakessuretoholdhisheadatjusttherightangletotightenupthelooseskinonhisneck.
“Seatbelt,Lynnette,”Garrettsays,turningtheignitionandsparkingtheenginetolife.“Can’thaveyousmashingyourprettylittleteethoutinanaccidentbeforeI’mdonewithyou.”
Wepulloutontothestreet.TheCaddysoundslikeatank.
“We’regoingtohitthetrailanditain’tgonnabenoyellowbrickroad,”
Garrettsaysashethreadsthroughlate-afternoontrafficandthepolicestationdisappearsbehindus.“UnlessgettingalethalinjectionneedlestuckinyourarmsoundslikemeetingtheWizardofOz.”
Carspassoneithersideofus,ridinghigh,lookingdownintothebackseatwhereanyofthemcouldtakeashot.
“Youknow,”hesays.“IboughtthisvehiclewiththefirstcheckIevergotforthatWalkerbrothersmovie.Hell,theypaidmeforeverydayIwasonsetandallIeverdidwasmakesurethoseactorsplayingpeaceofficersdidn’tholdtheirweaponslikeabunchofpricks.”
Islinktothefloor,myhandcuffedarmstickingup.I’mstillnotprotectedfromthesides,butatleastnoonecanshootmethroughtheback
window.Howdiditcometothis?AweekagoIwasfree;nowmypasthascaughtupwithmeandit’shungry.HowdidDr.Caroldothisalone?Sheneededhelp,someonewewouldn’tseecoming,someonelike…Heather.
Whocalledthecops,whosestoryneverquitestaysthesamewhenshetellsittwice,whocouldeasilyhaveburneddownherhalfwayhouse,whowasrightinsideMarilyn’sperimeterwhenIgotthere,whocalledthecopsandputmewhereDeanFoleycouldtrytokillme.
“Ineverdidthinkthefellaplayingmelookedright,”Garrettsays.“ButIguessit’shardtonailmyaura.ThewayIcarrymyselfandhandlesituationsandsuchlike.Anactorcan’tlearnthat.YouknowwhatthatdirectorsaidwhenItoldhimIshouldplaymyself?‘OfficerCannon,’hetoldme,‘youwouldbringsomuchauthenticitytothescreenit’dmakealltheotheractorslookfake.’There’struthinthat.”
Ipressmyselfagainsttheright-handdoortoprotectmytorsoandheadfromanyonecomingbyontheright,butI’mstillwideopenontheleft.Islidetothefloor.WhyamIeventrying?They’vethoughtthisthroughwellinadvance.They’vebeenthreestepsaheadofmeallalong.Iamweakandalone,andtheyarelegionandstrong.
“Goddammit,Lynne,”Garrettcallsthroughtheblackwiremesh.“Quityourdamncrawlingandsitstraight,orI’mgoingtopullthiscaroverandMaceyouintheface.”
ReluctantlyIslidebackupontotheseat,justashepullsintoaCarl’sJr.
drive-through.SomethingPavloviangoesoffinmystomachandIstarttodrool.I’msohungryitoverridesmysenseofself-preservationandIgawpatthepicturesonthebigmenuboardlikeahickonhisfirsttripintotown.
“Howdy,”Garrettsaystothespeaker.“I’llhaveaGuacamoleTurkeyBurger,withextracheese,smallchilicheesefries,andamediumorangeshake,andhowaboutasmallDietCoketogowiththat.”
“That’llbe$12.79,”therobotvoicesays.
“Gottawatchmyweight,”Garrett,sayspullingforward.“Oh,hellfire,Lynne,didyouwantsomething?”
Hehadtohaveheardmystomach.
“Yes,”Isay.
“Yougotanymoney?”heasks,lookingintherearviewmirror.
“I’llpayyouback.”
“It’sninehourstoProvo,”hesays.“Havesomegum.”
Hepushesatwenty-five-centpackofBigRedthroughthewiremeshanditfallsonthefloor.Thehotbutterysmellfromhispaperbagmakesmystomachgnawonitself.WepullbackoutonthehighwayandIpromisethatIwon’tbeghimforafry.Iwon’tpleadforasipofhisdrink.
“Wanttoknowasecret?”Garrettsaysbetweenpullsonhisstraw.“IknewthatFoleyboywassweetonyou.Iknowabouteverysingleoneofyourstalkers.ImadesurehewasfirstuptobatwhenwetookyoudownandI’lladmitIwasthrownthathedidn’ttakeashotatyouthen.Butallgoodthingscometothosewhowait.”
“Youwantedhimtokillme?”Iask,astonishedthathestillhatesmesomuch.MaybeI’mwrong.Maybeit’snotDr.Carolwhowantsusdead.
“IwantedtheLAPDtorealizethattheyweresingularlyunsuitedtoyourincarceration,”hesaid.“Iwantedtohavesomealonetimetogether,justliketheolddays.”
Ifeelweightless.We’reheadingupintotheSanBernardinohills.
Garrettunwrapshissandwichandtakesabite,thenputsitbackinthebag.
Likehe’ssavingitforlater.Irealizethathe’dbeexactlythepersonDr.
Carolwouldcall.
“Youandmegotabond,Lynne,”Garrettsays.We’repastRanchoCucamongaandtrafficisthinningoutasweheadup15intothemountains.
It’sallrocksanddirtfields,mini-storagefacilitieswithpicturesofratscarryingtrunksoutfront.I’msohungrythesmellofhotburgermakesmelight-headed.“Webothknowthatsometimesyougottotakethingsintoyourownhands.”
Garretttalkstoomuchwhenhe’snervous,andhe’sonlynervouswhenhe’sworkinguphiscouragetodosomethinghedoesn’twanttodo.Itrythecuffs.They’reclampedtootight.EvensweatyIdon’tthinkIcanslipthem.
Ilookaroundforaweapon.Nothingbutmyteethandnailsandthepackofgum.
“Youknow,whenIfirstheardthattheProvoDAhadthoselovelettersIdidn’tbelievehim,”Garrettsays.He’snotcheckingmeintherearviewmirroranymore.“ButwhenIwenttotheDA’sofficeandreadthem,IswearIcouldfeeleverythingthatwassettledopeningrightbackuplikeacanofworms.Littlesquigglingwormieswrigglingallover,messingeverythingup.Idon’tlikeworms,Lynne.Ievertellyouthat?It’swhyIdon’tfish.”
Mybelt,maybe,Icanwrapitaroundmyhandandhithimwiththebuckle.IonceplannedtohidearazorbladeintheliningofmyjeansbutInevergotaroundtoit.OvertheyearsIhavegottensoft,andweak,andlazy.
AndDr.Carolhasgottensmart,andorganized,andstrong.Thereisnooptionherethatdoesn’tendwithmedead.Withallofusdead.
ShegotAdriennekilledandshe’salreadybrokenDani’sheartbykeepingherawayfromMichelle.She’llfinishoffJulia,thenMarilyn,she’lltakedownHeather,andme,and…
Stephanie.
“DAgotthoselovelettersfromBillyWalkerhimself,”hesays.“Hadthemburiednearhisbrother’sgrave.Don’tknowwhyheneversaidanythingbeforebutwhoknowswhyanutjobdoesanything?Ilovedyourdaddy,youknow.Heandmealwayssaweyetoeye.Iknowhecouldbequickwithhistemper,butheunderstoodIwasamanwho’ddowhatneededtobedone.Hecouldrelyonmetomaketheharddecisions.”
StephanieFugate.IthinkofherfolderonDr.Carol’sdesk.Herbig,dumb,hopeful,brace-facedteenagedgrin.Herwideeyespeekingoutfromunderneathherbangs.ThewayshelookslikeGillian.
ShelooksjustlikeGillian.
Wepassalonelywindfarmwherethebigcrossesturnslow,thenweflythroughalittlespeckofcountryliving:ared-and-whitesignforTony’sDiner,ayellow-and-blacksignreadingSaloonthatlookslikeafirst-graderpaintedit,acrumblingparkinglotsurroundedbyasaggingchain-linkfence.Thenwe’realoneinthedry,brownhillsagain.
“Idon’tlikeanyonepissingallovermymemoriesofthedearlydeparted,”Garrettsays.“Iresentthoselettersshowingoffyourdaddy’sshortcomingstotheworld.”
IthinkaboutStephanieandallthosefilesofallthosebabyfinalgirlsinDr.Carol’soffice.Whydoesshehavethem?Shesaiditinthevisitingroom:“Ihavespentmylifetryingtobuildaworldwherewomenlikeyoudon’thavetoexist.”
Whenisthecureworsethanthedisease?
Garrettslowsthecar,thentakesaturnontoanarrowtwo-laneblacktopthatsquirmsintothehills.Wegrindpastsomeabandoned,half-builthomes,andhepullsinbehindonewithbusted-outwindows,wireshangingfromholeswheretheporchlightsweresupposedtogo.Halftheroofhasbeenfinishedwithredclaytiles;theotherhalfistorn-uptarpaper,rippedstripsflappinginthewind.
Ofcoursewe’repullingover.GarrettwouldnevermessuptheinteriorofhisCaddy.Heputsitinpark,killstheengine,andgetsout.ForafewsilentsecondsIscanmyoptions.Therearen’tmany.Mayberunforthehalf-finishedhouseandtrytogetthedroponhim?
Garrettopensmydoor,pullingmyrightarmalongwithit.He’sgothisguninhislefthand,helddownbyhisside.Ican’tseetheroadfromhere.Idon’tthinkhe’sgoingtowaittogetmeinsidethehouse.I’vefinallyfiguredouttheanswerandit’stoolate.I’mtooslow.Toodumb.Toouseless.
“Comeonoutofthecar,Lynnette,”hesays.“It’stimewesettledthis.”
“Garrett—”Ibegin.
“Nah,”hesays.“Mymind’smadeup.Nowturnaround.”
Istepout,andmyheadspins,andIturnaround,facingthetrunk,myhandcuffedrightarmstretchedbehindme.IjustwishIweren’tlettingStephaniedown.OnceI’minashallowgrave,who’sgoingtosaveher?
Who’sgoingtowarnheraboutGarrettP.CannonandDr.Carol?Intheend,thereweretoomanyofthem.Intheend,IletdowneveryoneIcaredabout.
There’saclickbymywrist,andthehandcuffopens.Iclosemyeyes.
“What’reyouwaitingfor?”Garrettasks.Hisvoiceisfaraway.Iopenmyeyesandhe’sheadingforthehouse.“Comeon.”
GarrettvanishesinsideandIcouldrun,Icouldbegoneinasecond,butIneedtoknowwhathe’splayingat.
Curiositywasthefacelessmonsterthatstuckapitchforkthroughthecat.
Ipickmywayacrosstherockyfrontyard,shakingwithhungerandexhaustion,mywristbruised.Ipickupadirtychunkofconcrete.IfeelbetterfollowingGarrettintothisdarkhousewithsomethinginmyhand.
“Whatthehellisthatfor?”heasks,comingbackoutsideandholsteringhisColt.“Youmakingpaperweights?”Heplucksitfrommyhandandtossesitbackintotheyard.“Ifiguredwe’dtalkbetterinthesun.Andletmebequitehonest,Idon’thaveahandleonthisthingyet,anduntilIdoI’massumingmyvehiclemightbebugged.’CausesomeoneknowsanawfullotabouteverythingbeforeIdo.”
Ieyehim,waitingforhisgunhandtocomeupfast.
“Whatthehell,Lynne?”heasks.“YouthoughtIwasgoingtojumpyou?Oh,hell,youthinkI’mgoingtoshootyou?”
“Aren’tyou?”Iask.
“Areyoukidding?”Hesmiles.“Thiswholethingsmelledlikeratshitfromthewordgo.”
Everythinglooksstrange.Thehouse,theyard,Garrett.Hegrinsatmelikewe’reoldfriends.
“What?”
Ifeelthickandstupid.
“Letmetellyousomething,Lynnette,”Garrettsays.“Ifthere’sonethingI’velearnedovertheyears,it’showtoknowwhenI’mbeingplayed.
Twentyyearslater,suddenlythere’sboldnewinformation?Thathappensinthemovies,notreallife.BillyWalkertoldtheDAaboutthoselettersbecausesomeonewantedyouincustodyanditwasn’tadumbasslikeBillyWalker.Why?Youlostyourlooksalongtimeago,andyourassistooskinnytofuck.IcalledmyHollywoodcontactsandyourfranchiseisradioactive.Noonewantstoeventhinkaboutit,muchlessrebootit.Sowhogivesashitaboutyou?Ifiguredthey’dsendsomeoneoutheretopickyouupandbringyoubacktoProvoandIfiguredatleastyouandmegothistory.SoIvolunteered.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou,”Isay.
“Youdon’tbelieveme?”hesays.Garrettlickshislipsandgetsangry.
That’showIknowhe’snotlying.“Istayedinthatpolicestationwaitingforthatcuckoobirdtomakehismoveforthreedays!Ibroughtyououthere,I’msettingyouruglyassfree;IwanttodealwithwhateverbullshitisgoingonrightnowbecauseIdon’tappreciatesomeonepissingalloverthememoryoftheonemanIevertrulyrespectedand,hell,maybewecouldevengetanewbookoutofthis,maybewriteittogether.Myagentsaysthatifyouco-authoredwe’dgetonehellofanadvance,especiallyiftherewassomecurrenteventforapeg.Igotaghostwriterwhowillknockyoursocksoff.”
Ican’tlookatGarrettanymore.I’msogratefulhe’snotexecutingmeinthedesertthatIdon’ttrustmyselfnottodosomethingstupid.Likehughim.Ipicturehimnaked,graysnarlofbellyhair,flatsaggyass,cowboyhatstillon.Thatsobersmerightup.
“Sowho’sdoingthis?”Iask.
“Iwashopingyou’dtellme,”hesays.“Someone’sgunningforyouandyourgalpals.Who’dyoupissoff?”
Aplugopensinmybellyandtensiondrainsoutinacoldflood.
Someoneisfinallylistening.ItmayjustbeGarrettP.Cannon,butI’lltakeit.
“It’smorethanoneperson,”Isay.“Ithastobe.ChristopheVolkerwentafterAdrienneandtheneverythinghappenedtoofastforitnottobeorganized.SomeonecalledRussellandtoldhimaboutmybook—”
“You’rewritingabook?”Heactuallysoundshurt.
“Notlikethat,”Isay.“Inevermeantforittogetout.”
“Thenwhat’sthepoint?”heasks.
“Itwasanexercise,”Isay.“Formypeaceofmind.”
“Hippy-dippybullshit,”hegrumbles.
“Butsomeonegotit,”Isay.“Offmycomputer.”
“Youeverheardofapassword?”heasks.
Iignorehimandkeepgoing.
“TheyreaditandtheygotRussellThorntogotoJulia.Sheknewmyaddressandsothetwoofthemcametomyplace.Whoevershotthemwas
waitingforustobetogether.ThentheyburneddownHeather’shalfwayhouse.ThenHarryPeterWardencameforwardaboutDani.ThenBillyWalkertoldtheDA’sofficeaboutthoseletters.It’sallhappeningtoofast.”
“Someonewhocanorganizecommunicationfrominsideprisonandoutside,”Garrettsays.“Thattakesalotofeffort.”
“Dr.Carol,”Isay.“Processofelimination.She’stheonlyonewhoknowshowtopressallourbuttonslikethis.”
“Motive?”
“Ithinkshe’ssickinthehead,”Isay.“Ithinkshebelievesthattheonlywaytocureusistokillus.”
“Acrazyheadshrinker,”hemarvels,thenhetriesoutatagline.“Thedoctorisin…sane.”
“Maybethere’smoretoitthanthat,”Isay.“Maybeshewantstowriteanewbookandneedsapeg.”
“That’dbecold-blooded,”hesays,butIhearrespectinhisvoice.
“It’sacold-bloodedbusiness,”Isay.“RightnowIthinkifsomeonelookedatthevisitorlistforBillyWalkerandthenforHarryPeterWardenthey’dfindhernameonboth.”
“Someonewouldhavetobeageniustocheckthosevisitorlists,wouldn’tyousay?”Garrettasks.
“Notreally.”
“Well,thisgeniusalreadyhas,”hebeams.“Ihaven’tpaidMr.Wardenavisitquiteyet,butthere’sonenamethat’salloverBillyWalker’slistlikeshitonahog.Anditain’tyourladydoctor.Shesentsomeonetorunhererrands.It’soneofyougirls.”
Iknowwhohe’sgoingtosaybeforehesaysit.
“ChrissyMercer,”hesays.
IwasexpectingHeather.
“Oh,”Isay,butI’mrelievedforamomentthatmaybeHeather’sbackonmysideagain.
“Makessense,”hesays.“Yourladydoctorlovescollectingfinalgirls.
Shejustdidn’ttellyoushehadthecompleteset.”
MyreliefdisappearsandIfeelsickagainbutthatdoesn’tmatter.It’spossible,andifit’spossibleIhavetoseeifit’strue.
“Mr.WardenandIaregoingtohavealittlecome-to-JesuswhileyouengageinsomegirltalkwithCrazyChrissy,”hesays.“Ievenbroughtsomeofyourtoplesspicturestohelpflushherout.”
Ofcoursehestillhasthosepictures.
“WhataboutProvo?”Iask.
“Hell,”hesays.“IwasnevergoingtotakeyoutoProvo,Lynne.YourdaddywouldcomebackfromhisgraveandkillmedeadifIdidthat.Comeon.”
Hecrunchesacrosstheconstructionrubbleandunlockshistrunk.
Insideismygobagandfannypack.Mypistolisstillinit,mycash,mycellphone.
“Ichargedupyourphoneandhelpedmyselftofivehundreddollars,”
hesays.“Finder’sfee.I’llgiveyouaninvoicelater.Youcandeductitasabusinessexpense.A‘thankyou’wouldbetheappropriateresponse.Iknowyougotahardtimewithsocialcues.”
“Whataboutyou?”Iask,changingthesubject.
“Whataboutme?”hetossesback.“IfigureIpulledoverbecauseyouwerecomplainingofcrampsandthenyouhadsomeassociatesjumpme.
I’mthinkingtwo,maybethreeBlackmales,five-eleventosix-two,twohundredpoundsapiece.Oneofthemwithasawed-offshotgun.Maybethrowaskinheadinthere,justtomakeitlessracist.”
“AskinheadandtwoBlackguys?”Iask.
“Allyougottodoispopmeintheeye,scuffmeupalittle,handcuffmetomyvehicle,”hesays.“Thenyouhikeonbacktothatdinerwepassed.It’saboutaforty-minutewalk.Youcancallyourselfacabfromthere.You’reresourceful,Lynne.I’llkeepintouchwithyouaboutWardenandkeepaneyeonyourdoctorandyougohuntdownCrazyChrissy.Rightnowyougotahunch.Ifourbookisgoingtobeabestseller,weneedproof.”
“Whydon’tyoupunchyourself?”Iask.
“Ican’tbringmyselftodamageaworkofart.”Hegrins.“Now,comeon.Enoughfoolingaround.”Hesecureshispistolinitsholsterwiththesnap.“Idon’twantmyreflexeskickinginandshootingyou.Aimformyrighteye,andseeifyoucanraiseabruisewiththosebittylittlehandsofyours.”
AndIrealizethatGarrettP.Cannonhassavedmylifeforathirdtime.
“Youthinkit’smorebelievableifitwastwoBlackguysandtwoskinheads?”heasks.
IkneehimintheballsashardasIcan.
“Oofff!”hesays,andgoesdownsideways,handscuppinghiscrotchtoolate.
“Justtellthemitwasonepissed-offgirl,”Isay.
IpluckhiskeysoutofhishandandgetintheCaddy.Imakeabiglooparoundhimashestrugglestohisfeet.Iflooritandraiseabrowndustcloud,andthenI’montheblacktopheadingforthehighway.Icranktheairuphighandpunchthegas.I’vegotanemergencystoptomakebeforeItrackdownCrazyChrissy.
Eventhoughit’scold,thatCarl’sJr.burgeristhebestthingI’veeatenallweek.
—JuliaCampbell,lettertotheBoardofParoleHearings,CaliforniaDepartmentofCorrections,February2009THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXIV:TheNewBlood
Idecidetokeepitsimple.I’lljustkidnapStephanieFugate.
Themediaspentafewdaysswarmingalloverthefamily,soitisn’thardtofindheraddress:aniceneighborhoodinSantaMonica.IdriveasslowasIcanmakemyselfgoandparkacrossthestreet.Herhousehastwostories,threebedrooms,atwo-cargarage,andlotsoflandscaping.She’stheolderoftwososheprobablyhasthebiggerbedroomoverthegarage.I’llgothroughthebushes,getonthegarageroof,andconvincehertocomeoutside.I’mnotsurehowI’lldothatexactly,butallIhavetodoiskeephersafeforafewdays.Ourmonstersgettooworkeduptodragthingsoutforverylong.
Nomuss,nofuss,myplanisfoolproofbecauseit’ssimple.I’manarrowfiringstraightintothefuture.Allmydecisionsfeelright.
Ishoveopenthedriver’s-sidedoor,standontheasphaltthat’sstillradiatingtheday’sheat,andbeforeIcanletthedoorswingshutamansays,
“Tellmewhyyou’rewatchingmyhouseorI’mcallingthepolice.”
He’sstandingintheshadowofapalmtreeacrossthestreet,wearingshortsandawornoxfordshirt,andhe’sprobablybeenwatchingmeaslongasI’vebeenwatchingthehouse.Heholdshisphoneinonehandandaleashintheother.Attheendoftheleash,abow-leggedChihuahuaglaresatme.
IfocusedsohardonthehouseIforgottocheckmyimmediateenvironment.
“Thepresshasbeenringingyourdoorbellallweek,”Isay,improvising,eyesonhishand,makingsurehisthumb’snotpressingconnect.“Neighbors
comingby,phoneringingnonstop.Ibetyou’vealreadyhadafewpeoplewholiedtoyouaboutwhotheywere.Thoseareherfuturestalkersandfanboys.Igetwhyyou’reupset.”
Hisfingersstabthephonethreetimes,andthenhisthumbhoversoverthescreenagain.
“I’mcallinginthree,two—”
Istepforward,handoutstretched.
“Dr.LauraNewbury.”Ismile.“I’matherapistwhoworkswithyoungpeoplelikeStephanie.Youmayknowmypartnerinourpractice,Dr.CarolElliott.”
Hismouthdropsopenlikeacartoonandheturnsintoanotherman,reachingformyhandwithhisphonehand,doingadoofydaddoubletake,slidingitintohispocket,grabbingmyhandinhissweatypalm,andpumpingmyelbowupanddown.
“Yougotourvoicemails,”hesays,facefullofrelief.
“Dr.Elliottcouldn’tmakeit,”Iimprovise.“Soshesentme.”
Thiswillbeharder,butbetter.I’llconvincetheFugatestoletmetakeStephaniesomewheresafe,andtheywon’tsendanyonelookingforusbecauseI’mDr.CarolElliott’spartner.It’llletmedrivealittleslower,thinkalittleclearer.I’vejustboughtmyselfhours.
“Youcan’timaginewhatthey’vebeendoingtoher,”hesays.
“Actually,Ican.”
“KenFugate,”hesays,stillgrinningatthesurpriseofitall.“Mywifeisgoingtobesorelieved.Ihopeyoudon’tmind,butcanIseesomeID?Tobesafe.”
“Ofcourse,”Isay,andstepbacktoslamtheCaddydoorclosed,whichgivesmetheprivacytoreachintomyfannypackwithouthimseeingthegun.I’vegotfivedifferentidentitiesinhere;ittakesmeasecondtofindtherightone.
AlternateIDsgotintenselyillegalafter9/11,soIpaidextratogettheseshippedallthewayfromChinainsideabook.Offsetprinted,diecut,amagneticstripontheback,andabarcodemakethemidenticaltostate-
issuedID.TheonlydifferenceismypicturelaserengravedonthefrontnexttoDr.Newbury’sname.
“Thislicenseisexpired,”Kensays.
“Ikeepmeaningtogetitrenewed.”
“Twoyearsago.”
“I’vebeenbusy.”
TheChihuahuastaresupatme,unblinking.
“YoucancallDr.Elliottifyouwant,”Isay.“I’llgiveyouhercellnumber.Tonight’sparent/teachernightatPax’sschool,though.That’sherson.ButI’msureshewouldn’tmind.”
TheChihuahuajuststares.Whatiswrongwiththisthing?
“Comeoninside,”Kensays,hiscelebritycrushovercominghiscaution,turningtowardhishouse.“Ithinkallthemediaclearedout,butwhoknows.I’msurethelastthingyouwantisforanyonetoknowyou’rehere.”
“Absolutely,”Isay,followinghimacrossthedarkstreet.
Icontrolmybreathing,Istaycalm,Iwalkthewayafamoustraumatherapist’spartnerwalks,confidentandcool,likeIhavealltheanswers.Irepeatmymantraoverandoverinsidemyhead.
IamDr.Newbury.IamDr.Newbury.IamDr.Newbury.
“Stephanieseemslikeherself,”hesaysoverhisshoulder.“Butthismustbecrushing.Tohaveithappentwicebeforeshe’sevensixteen?Afterthetennisthingshecouldn’tsleep;shestoppedplayingandthatwasherlife;shelostweight.ThenshestartsgoingtoRedLakeandbang!Totalone-eighty.Nowthis?Wedon’tknowwhattodoforher.”
Insteadofgoinginthefrontdoor,hepushesopenawhitegateandwegoaroundthesideofthehouse.It’sallwindows.Theydon’tknowwhattodoforStephanie?Startbyboardingupalltheseentrypoints,that’swhattheyshoulddo.Hardentheirlocation.Actlikethere’sanactualemergencyhappeninghere.
HeunlocksthekitchendoorwhiletheChihuahuakeepsstaringatme,andI’mgladthey’reatleastlockingdoors.There’sweatherstripping
aroundtheedgesanditmakesasuckingsoundwhenhepusheshardandIfollowhimintothecool,expensivekitchenthatsmellslikefreshlemons.
Awomanwithgrayrootsinherblondhairleansagainstthesink,watchingus.Sheprobablysawuscomingthroughallthesewindows.Shelookslikethekindofwomanwhodemandsalotofexplanations.
“Cheryl,”KenFugatesays.“You’llneverbelieveit.”
CherylscansmyfaceasKenunclipstheleashfromtheChihuahua’sharness.Thestoveishuge,anditsburnerslookliketheycouldscorchahumanface;theknifeblocknexttoCherylisfullofGermansteel,andthere’sameattenderizerthatcouldcrackaskullonthebutcher-blockkitchenisland.Somanywaysshecouldhurtme,allwithinherreach.
“Who’sthis?”sheasks.
“It’sDr.Elliott’spartner,”KensaysastheChihuahuaclicksawayintothehouse.
Weallstareateachotherforamoment,andthenIputmyhandout.
“Dr.Newbury,”Isay.“CarolandIaregoingtomakesureStephaniegetsthroughthis.”
Cheryllaunchesherselfatme,chintwistingtooneside,foreheadgoingup,eyesturningred,andshepressesherbodytomine,handsonmyshoulderblades,hairblockingmysightlines.Itrytohugherback,thewayanaward-winningtherapist’spartnerwould,asshepressesherselftome,renderingmyarmsuseless,holdingmeinplace.
IamDr.Newbury.IamDr.Newbury.IamDr.Newbury.
“Thankyou,”shewhispers.“Thankyousomuch.”
“Shouldwetalkinthelivingroom?”Kensuggests.
Aswewalkthroughthebigwhitehousewithtoomanywindows,Icheckoutthelocksontheirfrontdoor(onedeadbolt,onechain),seearecentlyinstalledalarmpanel,andnoticeeverysinglelightison,keepingoutthedusk.
“I’vegotallDr.Elliot’sbooks,”Cherylsays,goingtoafloor-to-ceilingbookshelf,andIseeherhandfloatingovertheshelves,andtheretheyare.
Sheevenhasthefirstone,beforeDr.Carollearnedaboutthemarketability
ofapunchytitle,ATherapist’sGuidetoTrauma.Cheryl’sfingersstiffen,andshehomesinonit.
“TimeisoftheessenceforStephanie,”IsaylikeI’mworthlisteningto,sittingontheirwhitesofawithallthepurposeofadoctorwhocaresaboutsavinglives.
Ihavetoputmybacktotheemptylivingroombecausethey’restandingbytheothersofa.Allthatopenspacebehindmemakesmyskincrawl.
KenandCherylsitnexttoeachother,Cherylpoker-up-the-assstraight,Kenrestinghiselbowsonhisknees.ThelowScandinaviancoffeetablebetweenusholdsasilvercranewithabeaksharpenoughtostaboutaneyeandaseriesofglassorbsheavyenoughtosmashsomeone’steeth.
“Ican’tbelieveyoucame,”Cherylsays.“Imean,you’renotDr.Elliott,butstill,shewouldn’tworkwithyouifyouweren’tsomeone.Haveyoupublishedanybooks?Iassumewhenyou’rehereit’slikeshe’shere,isn’tit?Isshecominglater?NotthatI’mnotsureyou’reawonderfultherapistinyourownright.”
“Honey,”Kensays,puttingahandonherknee.“LetDr.Newburytalk.”
“Sorry,”shesays,flashingmeaskull’shardsmile.“It’sbeenadifficultweek.”
WewaitwhileshefindsaKleenexandtouchesittothecornersofhereyes,thenblowshernose.
“Wegethundredsofcallseachweek,”Isay,whichsoundslikesomethingDr.Carol,whotreatssomanypatientswithsomuchcare,wouldsay.“ButStephaniefallsintoaveryspecialcategoryoftraumavictim,whichiswhyI’mhere.”
“She’llbeokay?”Cherylasksinaverysmallvoice.
“No,”Itellher.Irefusetolieaboutthis,evenwhilepretendingtobesomeoneelse.“That’snotpossible.”
“What?”Cheryl’sfacecollapses.
“Keepinghersafeisthebestwecando,”Isay,notsoundinglikeDr.
Carolatall.
“Exactly,”Kensays,rubbingCheryl’shand.“Onceshe’ssafe,thehardworkcanbegin.”
“IneedyoutounderstandthatStephanieiswhatthemediarefertoasafinalgirl,”Isay.
Cheryl’seyebrowsmeetinthemiddle.
“No,she’snot.”
“Denialwon’thelpStephanie,”Isay.
“No,”Cherylsays,standingup.“I’dliketohearDr.Elliott’sopinion.
Canwespeaktoher?Iwanttoknowwhatshethinks.I’msureyou’reafinetherapist,butsheiswhowecalled.”
Thesetwoarereallystartingtofrustrateme.
“Cheryl,”Isay,speakingloudlyandassertively.“Therearethingshappeningyoudon’tknow,andtheyrelatedirectlytoStephanie’ssafety.”
“What?”Kenasks,reachingforCheryl’shandwithoutlooking.Shesitsbackdownandunconsciouslytheyleanintoeachother.
“Aweekago,someonebegantargetingfinalgirlsintheLosAngelesarea,”Isay.
“Someofthemlivehere?”Cherylinterrupts.
“Allofthem,”Isay.“Obviouslyyou’refamiliarwithAdrienneButler,butthedayaftershewaskilled,someoneattackedJuliaCampbellandLynnetteTarkington.”
“Who’sLynnetteTarkington?”Cherylasks.
Isshekidding?
“Afinalgirl.”
“Doyourememberthatone?”CherylasksKen.
“It’snotimportant,”Isay,annoyedattheirlackoffocus.“WhatisimportantisthatStephanieisindanger.”
“Anofficerdrivesbythehouseeverythreehours,”Kensays.“Wethoughtabouthiringaprivatesecurityoutfitbutourneighborsalreadyhateuswithoutstrangerstrompingthroughtheiryards.Doyouthinkweshouldgoaheadandpullthetrigger?”
“Thepolice,privatesecurity,they’reuseless,”Isay.“Whenoneofthesemonsterscomesafterafinalgirl,nothingcanstophim.”
“ButChristopheVolkerisdead,”Cherylsays.
“Volkerisirrelevant,”Isay.“ThisgoesbeyondVolker.Thedangerisveryreal,andit’sveryimmediate.”
Somethingclick-click-clicksonthehardwoodfloorandtheChihuahuaprancesintotheroomonitstiptoes.
“Comehere,Gordon,”Cherylsays,scoopinghimup.Hesitsonherlapandstartsstaringatme,again.JesusChrist.
Ireallywanttolookovermyshoulder.Idon’tlikehavingthisbigemptyroomatmyback,Idon’tlikehavingthistinydog’seyesboringintome,butafamoustherapist’spartnerwouldn’tlookoverhershoulder.
Famoustherapistsandtheirpartnersaren’tscaredoftinydogs.
“When’sthelasttimeyousawSteph?”Kenaskshiswife,andbeforeshecananswerhe’sstandinginthehall,callingupthestairs.“Stephanie,canyoucomedownhereaminute?Stephie?”
Heturnstous,shrugging.
“IjustfeelmorecomfortablewhenIcanseeher,”hesays.
CherylandtheChihuahuastareatmewhileadooropensupstairsandStephaniecomesslouchingdown,holdingontothebanister,thenpadsintotheroom.
Shedoesn’tcheckhersightlines,shedoesn’tlookbehindthedoor,she’sgotnoshoesonifsheneedstorun.Herfaceissoftwithbabyfat,herskinissopaleithurtsmyeyes,andshe’sgottenherbracesremovedanddyedherhairasblackasherlipstick.BlackT-shirt,blackjeans,she’satinydarkstarinthemiddleofthisclean,white,contemporarylivingroom.
“Hey,”Stephaniesays,andthenhermouthopensinthesameOofsurpriseherfather’sfacemadeoutside.“OhmyGod,you’re—”
IseehertonguehitthebackofhertopteethtomakeanLandIstandupandlaunchmyselfather,reachingaroundherback,slammingintoherchest,draggingheragainstmybody,pressinghertome,justlikehermom.
“You’resafenow,Stephanie,”Isay.“I’mDr.Newbury.IworkwithDr.
CarolElliott.I’vecometotalktoyourparentsaboutyoursafety.”
Shepullsback.
“Why?”sheasks.“Whathappened?”
“Nothing,sweetie,”Kensays,puttingonebig,calmingdadhandonhershoulder.“You’reabsolutelyonehundredpercentsafehere.”
“Yourfatheristryingtoreassureyou,”Isay,makingeyecontact,myhandonherothershoulder.“Inreality,youcouldbemurderedatanymomentbyaderangedlunaticwho’skillingfinalgirls.”
“I’mafinalgirl?”shesaysinahighvoice.
“You’renotafinalgirl,”hermothersays.
“Yes,”Isay.“Youareafinalgirl.”
StephaniewalksslowlytothesofawhereIsatandsinksdown.
“Someoneelsewantstokillme?”sheasks,shrinkingintoherself.
“Why?WhatdidIdo?”
Hermotherandfatherstarttalkingimmediately,fillingtheroomwithreassuringnoises,comfortingsounds,sayingthingsthataren’ttruetomakeherlowerherguard.Isitnexttoher.Imeethereyes.Ispeakonlytoher.
“That’showyourlifeisnow,”Isay.“That’swhoyouare.Itdidn’thappenforareason,youhaven’tearnedit,youdon’tdeserveit,butyouneedtohandleitoryou’regoingtodie.”
“Look,”Kensays,cuttingthroughCheryl’snoise.“Idon’tcareforyoutraumatizingourdaughterlikethis.It’snotproductive.”
“Youknowwhat’snotproductive,Ken?”Iask,nottakingmyeyesoffStephanie.“Gettingyourdaughtermurderedbecauseyoudidn’ttakethisthreatseriouslyenougheventhoughoneofthenumberonetraumatherapistsintheworldissittingrightherewarningyou.”
“What’sDr.Elliott’scellnumber?”Kenasks.
“WeneedtofocusonStephanie,”Isay.“Icankeephersafeifyouwilllethergowithmeforthenextthreedays.Icanguaranteeshewillsurvive.”
CherylhugsherChihuahuatoherwithbothhands.
“Wherewillyoutakeher?”Kenasks.
“Ican’ttellyou,”Isayconfidently.“But—”
Thedoorbellrings.
“Tobecontinued,”Kensays,walkingpastmeintothehall.
Thefrontdooropensandavoicesays:
“I’msorrytobotheryousolate,butI’mDr.CarolElliott,andI’mconcernedyourdaughtermightbeindangerfromoneofmypatients.”
“Honey?”Kencallsfromthehall,andshepracticallyboltspastme,leavingtheChihuahuabehind.
“Stephanie—”Istart,lookingintohereyes.
“You’reLynnetteTarkington,”Stephaniesays,andshealmostcracksup.
“Youneedtotrustme,”Isay,fastandurgent.“Thatwomanouttherewantsyoudead.Iwanttokeepyousafe.”
“What?”sheasks.
Ihearurgentdiscussioninthehall.Ican’tmakeoutthewords,butanysecondthey’regoingtocomebackintothelivingroom.
“We’refinalgirls,”Isay.“Weunderstandeachother.Ifyouwanttosurvivethenextthreedays,comewithmerightnow.”
Igetupandwalkintothehallleadingtothebackofthehouse.MyheartopenslikeaflowerwhenIfeelStephaniefallintostepbehindme.
“Lynnette?!”IhearDr.Carolshoutbehindus.
Ithinkaboutreversingcourse,runningatherfast,unzippingmyfannypack,pressingmyguntoherforeheadandsqueezingthetriggerthreetimes,butthenI’llgotoprisonandshecan’tbeworkingaloneandtherewillbenowaytoprotectStephaniefromherpartners.
“Hey!”Kenshouts.
“Stop!”Dr.Carolcries.
“Stephanie!”Cherylyells,voicecrackedwithhysteria.
Ireachback,grabStephanie’swrist,andyankherafterme.Wecrashthroughthekitchen,outthesuckingsidedoor,aroundthesideofthehouse.
Stupidlytheyfollowusratherthancuttingusoffinthefrontyard.IhearStephanie’sbarefeetmeat-slappingthewalkwaybehindme,quieteraswecrossthegrass,thenlouderagainaswepoundacrosstheasphalttoGarrett’sCaddy.
Iopenthedriver’s-sidedoor,shoveStephanieacrossthebenchseat,andthenI’mslidingin,stabbingthekeyintotheignition,twisting.ThebigtankrumblestolifejustasDr.Carolrunsacrosstheirfrontyard.She’s
wearingawhiteblouse.Shestoppedanddidherhairandmakeup.That’showconfidentsheis.Shedidn’tcountonmegettingtoStephaniefirst.
“Isthat—?”StephaniebeginsasIhitthegasandthebigcarsurgesforward.
ItwistthewheeltoswervearoundDr.Carol.
“It’sthewomanwho’stryingtokillus,”Isay.“Oneofthem.Therearemore.Alotmore.Sitonthefloorandstayoutofsight.I’vegottodosometacticalthinking.Oncewe’reoutofL.A.,I’lltellyouwhat’shappening.”
Sheslidestothefloorwithoutprotestandshutsdown.Goodgirl.Smartgirl.Finalgirl.
—notesleftonthefrontporchoftheShipmanfamilyhome,November1980THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXV:
DreamWarriors
Wegetonthe10,headingforthe405.They’relesslikelytoshutdownafreewaythansurfacestreets,buttherearestillsomanywaystheycanstopus:AmberAlerts,highwaypatrol,trafficcameras,GPStracking,outreachtoradiostations.Garrett’sCadillacisthekindofcareveryoneremembersafteritpasses.Imightaswellbedrivinganeonsign.
Stephanie’sphonestartsplayingapopsong.
“It’smymom,”shesays,showingmethescreenfromthepassenger-sidefloor.
Thecartakesalotofbruteforcetokeepitinitslaneatthisspeed.Ikeepmyeyesontheroad.
“Tellheryou’reokay,”Isay.“Tellhernottocallthepolice.TellherI’mnotkidnappingyou,I’mkeepingyousafe.”
“They’regoingtothinkyou’remakingmesaythat,”shesaysasthepopsongkeepsdrillingintomyteeth.“They’regoingtothinkyouhaveagun.”
“Ido,”Itellher,thenreconsider.“Don’ttellthemthat.”
“Mom,”shesays,pressingthephonetothesideofherface.“I’m—”
Theydon’tletherspeakuntilI’mgettingonthe405North.
“Shecanprotectme,”shefinallysays,thenpausestolisten.“Yes,I—I,yes,Iknowexactlywhosheis.”Pause.“No,she’snotcrazy.Idon’tcarewhatherdoctorsays.Mom?”Pause.“Mom?”Pause.“Mom!”
Ireachoverandalreadywehavearapportbecausesheputsherphonerightinmyhand.EvenovertheCadillac’sroarIcanhearCheryl’svoicesquawkinginpanic.Ipressittothesideofmyface.
“Cheryl,”Isay,thenagainlouder.“Cheryl!”
“You’dbetterpulloverrightnowandletmydaughteroutofthatcar!”
sheshouts.
“Iwillkeephersafeforthreedays,”Isay.“Shewillnotgethurt.”
She’snotlistening.Betweentheenginerumble,keepingusinourlane,andthespeakerdistorting,Ionlycatchtheoccasionalword.Ihear
“lunatic,”Ihear“prison,”Ihear“psycho.”Thatonehurts.Thenquiet.Thenextvoicecutsthroughallthestaticinsidemyhead.
“Lynnette,it’snottoolate,”Dr.Carolsays.“Pulloverandletthegirloutofthecar.”
“She’sstayingwithmeuntilthisisover,”Isay.“I’mgoingtoprotecther.”
“Fromyourself?”sheasks.
“WebothknowwhoI’mprotectingherfrom,”Isay.
“Rightnow,whatIknowisthatyou’reendangeringayounggirl’slife,”
shesaysloudly,playingtoStephanie’sparents,andIrealizethemistakeI’vemade.
I’veleftherbehindtobethetruth-teller,theexplainerwhoputsalltheblameonherunbalancedpatient.I’vegivenheralltheleverage.
“Putmeonspeaker,”Isay.
“Lynnette,I’mnot—”
“PUTMEONSPEAKERORTHISPHONEGOESDEAD!”
There’sthumping.ThenIhearechoes.
“Ken,Cheryl?Areyouthere?”Iask.
“Mybaby…”IhearCherylsobbeforeshebecomesincoherent.
“Iwantyoualltohearmeclearly,”Ishoutintothephone.Iwanteverywordtobebrandedintotheirbrains,directlyfrommylips,notfilteredthroughDr.Carol.“YouknowI’marmed.YouputoutabulletinonabrightredCadillac,youreportStephaniemissing,youhavethiscarpulledoverbythepolice,youdoanythingtoslowusdown,andI’llkillher.”IsenseStephaniegoverystill.“TheminuteacoppullsthisCaddyover,I’llputabulletthroughherbrain.ShehasaniPhone.WegettheAmberAlerts.I’dbetternotseeone.”
Iletitsinkinforasecond.
“Stephaniewillcallyoueveryfivehourssoyouknowshe’sstillalive.
She’llturnherphoneoffinbetween,sodon’ttrytotrackit.That’sthedeal.
Youshutup,sittight,andyou’llhearfromyourdaughtereveryfivehoursuntilthreedaysareupandyouseeheragain.”
ThenIhangupandholdthephoneouttoStephanie.Shedoesn’ttakeit.
“They’llstillcallthepolice,”Itellher.“Butthey’llargueaboutitforacoupleofhoursfirst.That’sallIneed.”
Shestilldoesn’ttakeherphone.
“I’mnotgoingtokillyou,”Isay.“I’mtryingtosaveyourlife.Textyourmomanddad.Tellthemyou’llcallinfivehours.That’llbuyusthetimeweneed.”
ShetakesthephoneandgetsbusywhileIgetustoWestsideAutoRecycling.They’reinthemiddleofclosingbutIconvincethemtostayopen.Ittakesalotofmoney.Stephaniecomeswithmebutshewalksslowanddrugged,likeshe’sbeingforcedatgunpoint.LikeI’mholdingherhostage.
WebuyfourusedChevywheelsandtiresandIpaycash,thenshehelpsmeroll/bouncethembackouttotheCaddy.Twofitinthetrunk,twofitinthebackseat.WeheadtowardBurbank,thecarreekingofvulcanizedrubber.
IcantellStephaniewantstoaskquestionswhenIpullintotheBurbankparkinggarageanddriveuptolevelthree,butshekeepsquiet.Goodgirl.
ShechecksthetimewhenIask.It’sonlybeenfiftyminutes.Ifigurewehaveanotherfortyleftonourheadstart.
There’sanemptyspacenexttomyChevyLuminawithitsfourflats.Ipullinandshutofftheengine.TheCaddytickstoitselfwhileIcheckmysightlines.Stephaniecranesaroundinherseat,tryingtoseewhatI’mlookingat.Noone’sthere.Whateverconspiracythisis,they’restretchedtothelimit.Theycan’tsparethepersonneltowatchanescaperoutetheythoughtthey’dclosedlastweek.
IgetthejackoutofthetrunkandStephaniewatcheswhileIjackuptheLuminaandstartlooseninglugs.
“Idon’tlikebeingouthere,”shesays.
“Thefasterwechangethesetiresthefasterwe’reontheroad,”ItellherasIwork.“Changethelasttwoyourself.Ihavetomakesomecalls.”
“I’veneverchangedatirebefore,”shesays.
“Youjustsawmedotwo,”Isay.“Learnbydoing.”
ShestartsworkingonthenexttireandIwalkawayandfishmyburneroutofmygobagandturniton.Noneofthesecallsaregoingtobemuchfun.
“Leavemealone!”MarilynscreamssoloudIhavetoholdthephoneawayfrommyear.
ItoldherhousekeeperIwasDr.Carolsoshe’dtransfermycalltoherbedroom.She’snothappyit’sme.There’sathumpandascuffleandIworrythatsomeone’sattackingher,andthenhervoiceisuglyandcloseinmyearagain.
“?‘ATexasdebutantewhonevergottold“no”byherfather,’?”shereads.“?‘Whentheyrebootedherfranchise,MarilynTorres’sdescentintoalcoholismwasheartbreaking.’Alcoholism?!”
“Noonewassupposedtoseethat,”Iexplain.“Someonestoleitandsentitouttodiscreditme.”
“Itworked,”shesays.
I’vethoughthardabouthowtoframethenextpart.
“Iknowyouhatemebutyouneedtobecareful,”Isay.“Don’tleavethehouse.Don’tletanyonevisit.You’resafethere.”
“Don’ttellmewhattodo,”shesays.“You,ofallpeople,don’tgettotellmewhattodo.”
“Don’ttrustanyone,”Isay.“NotevenDr.Carol.”
“Don’ttalktomeaboutwhototrust,”shesays,andherspeechisalittlethicker,alittleslurred.“Idon’ttrustyou.”
“How’reJuliaandHeather?”Iask.
“I’mhangingup,”Marilynsays.“Idon’twantyoucallingmebackorcomingaround.Idon’tevenwanttolookyouintheeyebecauseIthinkI’d
spit.”
“Youhavetolistentome,”Isay,andIexplainwhyforafullminutebeforeIrealizeshe’shungup.
WhenIcallback,herhousekeeperwon’tputmethrough.
IcallDaniknowingshewon’tanswerbutneedingtoleaveamessagejustincase.
“What?”sheasks.
“Yougotout,”Isay,genuinelysurprised.
“Bail,”shesays.“Pendingtrial.I’munderhousearrest.”
“Stayhome,”Itellher.“Lockdown.Don’tletanyoneonyourproperty.”
There’salongsilence,andwhenshespeakshervoiceismeasuredanddead.
“Theyfoundmywife’scorpseinthepublicparkwhereyoudumpedher,”shesays.
“Wewantedtotakeherhome,”Iexplain.“Butshedidn’tknowtheway.”
“Whatdoyouwant,Lynnette?”sheasks.
“Youcan’ttrustanyone,”Itellher.“NotDr.Carol.Notthepolice.Noone.”
“Theytoldmeyou’dsaythat,”shesays.“Good-bye.”
“Wait!”Ishout.“Whotoldyou?”
Butshe’shungup.WhenIcallback,arecordedvoicetellsmethatthiscustomerhasn’tsetuphervoicemail.
ItryJulia,butgetnoanswer.ItryHeatherbutthatAT&Tcustomer’snumberisnolongerinservice.Myskinfeelstootight.Ineedthemtolistenbuttheywon’tevenletmespeak.WhenIgetbacktoStephanieshe’stakingofftheCaddy’slicenseplatesanddroppingtheminthegarbage.I’mgladtoseehertakingsomeinitiative.
Wepullout.AfterdrivingGarrett’stank,theLuminahandleslikeasodacan.Wegetonthefreeway.It’sastruggletokeepthespeedometerundereightymilesanhourandthecardrivesroughwithjunkyardtires.I’m
sofocusedontheroadI’mgenuinelysurprisedwhenIglanceatStephanieandseelightsreflectingoffherwetcheeks.
“I’mnotactuallygoingtoshootyou,”Isay.
“Iknow,”shesays,dully.
“Thendon’tcry,”Isay.“Doyouseemecrying?”
“Idon’tevenknowwhat’sgoingon,”shesays,andhervoicehitches.
SoItellher.IttakesusuntiltheothersideofDeathValleybeforeI’mfinished.Ilookattheclock.It’sgoingontwointhemorning.AfterIgettothepartaboutkickingGarrettP.Cannonintheballsandstealinghiscar,Istop,andthere’squietforalongtime.
ThenStephaniebeginstochoke,andshake,andIthinkshe’scryingagainandallthatwasfornothing,andIfeelmychestflashhot,andthenIrealizeshe’slaughing.Shelaughshard,anditquicklyedgesoverintohysteria.Shegaspsouthigh-pitchedpealsoflaughter,dissolvesintohiccups,poundsonthedashboardwithherheels.Iletitrunitscourse.
Shejustsawherfriendsmurdered.Nowsomeone’stryingtokillher.
She’sboundtodissociate.Irememberwhenthishappenedtome.LaughingwhenIshouldbecrying,cryingwhenIshouldbelaughing,andatsomepointIgotmyemotionssomixedupIcouldn’trememberhowIwassupposedtobeactinganymore.
“Isallthattrue?”shefinallyasks,breathless,tryingtorecoverfromherlaughingjag.
“WhywouldIlie?”Isay.
BeforewegoanyfurtherIneedtoaskaquestionofmyownthat’sbeenticklingatthebaseofmybrain.
“Whywereyousoquicktocome?”Iask.“Youdon’tknowme.”
Silentsecondsslideby.
“Iknowwhoyouare,”shesays,seriousnow.“Iknowthatwhat’shappenedtomehappenedtoyou.Itrustyou.”
“I’mnotevenalittlebitconvinced,”Isay.
Beyondthespillofourheadlights,thedesertisdark.Awirefenceunscrollsonourright.
“YouremindmeofAlana,”shesaysinthedark.“Like,exactly.Shewasmybestfriendatcamp.Ifshegottogrowupshe’dbeyou.WhenevershesaidanythingIknewshemeantit.Inmyhead,I’mpretendingyou’reher.”
Ileaveitthere.Sometimeswehavetofollowourguts.That’swhywesurvive.
“Canyougetonlinewithyourphone?”Iask,lettingherknowthesubject’sclosed.
“Whatdoyouneed?”sheasks.
“Ineedtomeetsomeone,buttheywon’tcomeiftheyknowit’sme.”
“WhatdoIdo?”
“GotoManCrafting.com,”Isayasacarpasses,washinguswithitsheadlights
Ihopethehomepageisn’ttoointenseforher.
“Oh.”Shesoundslikesheprickedherthumbonaneedle,andthenthere’ssilencefromhersideofthecar.“Whatisthis?”
“It’sasiterunbythepersonIneedtosee,”Isay.“Idon’twantyoulookingaroundthere;don’tgoonanyoftheotherpages.Ijustwantyoutogotothecontactpage.”
“Thisshitiscreepy,”shesays.“Whatisit?”
“It’smurderabilia,”Itellher.“There’snoneofitonthecontactpage.
Gotherenow.”
“It’sanemailform,”shesays.
“IwantyoutotypewhatItellyou.”
Wegobackandforthforawhile,andIhavetospelloutalotofwords(“No,PasinPaul,”Irepeatforthefivehundredthtime)butbythetimewereachTonopahwehavethis:
URGENTHELLO.IMUSTSELLALARGEQUANTITYOFITEMSFOUNDINAMINI-STORAGELOCKERTHATIPURCHASED.MYBOYFRIENDSAYSTHATYOUR
SITEMIGHTBEINTERESTEDINTHEM.THEREARESEVERALPHOTOSAND
SOMECLOTHESTHATBELONGTOTHEKINDOFPEOPLEYOUARE
INTERESTEDIN.PEACEOUT(thatwasStephanie’stouch),MARCIA
Stephaniepressessendandnowit’suptoChrissy.
Intherearviewmirror,acopnosesoutfromaroundaneighteen-wheeleranddrawsupbehindme.
“Beforetheguycametocamp,”Stephaniesaysoutofnowhere,“IwasworriedaboutwhatIwore,andwhetherIwasskinnyenough,andwhattodowithmyhair,andwhatIate,andtryingtodecideifIreallywantedtolearncoding,andmaybeIshouldplaytennisagain.”
Thecophoversbehindmenow,nosetomytail.
“ThenallIcaredaboutwasstayingalive,”shesays.“Everythinggotsoclear.Iwasn’tthinkingabouttheextrabullshitanymore.”
Ifthere’sonethingIknowhowtodo,it’slistentoafinalgirl.
“EverytimehehurtsomeoneIknewitwasliketheywerejustwaterballoonstohim,”shesays.“Hewaspoppingthem,oneaftertheother.ButwhenIhadtohurthim,Icouldn’tdoitintime.HehadhisbacktomeintheloftandAlanawasscreamingforhelpandIjustfroze.IcouldhavepushedhimearlierbutIwasn’tstrongenough.Itwasn’tuntilhecameafterme.Icouldn’tsaveanyoneexceptmyself.”
“Sometimesthat’sallyoucando,”Isay.
Anexitiscomingup.Iputonmyturnsignal.
“Idon’twanttodielikeeveryoneelse,”shesays.
Itaketheexit,andthecopcarkeepsgoing.Ipulloveronthesideoftheroadandsitforaminutewhileblackdotsswiminmyvision.Didherunmyplates?Didhewritethemdown?IshegoingtorememberadarkredChevyLuminawhenhegetsbacktothestationhouse?Ishegoingtoputthepiecestogether?
“HehitAlanaintheheadwithahammer,”Stephaniesays.“Hejustkepthittingherandhittingher.Whydidhedothat?”
Noone’severdependedonmeforanythingbefore,exceptFine.IimagineMarilyn,drunkinhermasterbedroomallalone,Heathersittingcross-leggedonthefloor,givingoneofhermonologues,boxcutterhiddenbehindoneleg.IimagineDani,sittingatherkitchentable,crying,hergunslockedupintheircabinet.IimagineJulia,unconsciousinthehospital,herdoorunprotected.IthinkaboutSkyeinhismother’shouse,typingonhis
computer,oblivioustoanyonecomingupbehindhim.I’veneverhadsomanyotherpeopletoworryaboutbefore.Ihavetobesafe.Ihavetobesmart.Thatcopcouldhavepulledmeover,andifhehad,everythingwouldhavebeenfinished.
“You’renotgoingtodie,”ItellStephanie,andI’msayingittomyself,too.“Nooneelseisgoingtodie.I’llmakesureofthat.”
—transcriptofRCMPofficersJohnStrycherandDonaldThompsoninterviewingmultiplemurdersurvivorChristineMercer,November6,1986THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXVI:SeasonoftheFinalGirls
ChrissyshowsuphalfanhourearlytoscopeouttheStarbuckswherewe’resupposedtomeet.That’sokay.Wesleptinthecarlastnightandgotupwiththesun.Bythetimesherollspastthestripmallwe’vebeenwatchingitallday.Stephaniekeepsplayingwiththeradio.Everyfivehoursshecallsherparentsbutshe’slearning.Shetalksshorterandcrieslesseachtime.Otherwise,Iinsistshekeepherphoneoff.It’smakinghertesty.
“Sheneedstohurryheroldselfup,”Stephaniegrumbles.
“Patiencewillkeepyoualive,”Itellher.
“Notifitboresmetodeathfirst.”
I’dhadanideathatChrissywasstickingclosetohome,sowe’dmadeforsouthernAlberta,nearthelocationofheroriginalcrisis,emailingherfromStephanie’sphoneasIdrove.Ittookadayandahalf.We’djustcrossedintoIdahowhenChrissyletusknowshe’dmovedawayfromBlackDrumandlivedsouthofthebordernowineasternMontana.StephaniewouldhavethoughtIwasanidiotifit’dturnedoutshe’dmovedtoL.A.
Chrissy’smorecautiousthanme,whichearnshermygrudgingrespect,somethingIneverthoughtI’dfeel.Totherestofus,Chrissy’sabottom-feederandwetrynottosayhername.She’satraitor,amasochist,aturncoat,aliar.She’sgotStockholmsyndrome.Weallfeelsorryforher.Wealldespiseher.Butatleastshe’scautious.Thatmakesheroneofus,afterall.
“CanIatleastgoinandseewhatshedoes?”Stephanieasks.“Shehasn’tseenmyfacebefore.”
“ChrissyfollowsmassmurderthewayCanadiansfollowhockey,”Isay.“She’sseenyou.We’renotblowingthisnowbyunderestimatingher.
Thisishowwesurvive.Welookbeforeweleap.”
It’shotinthecarbutgettingcoolerastheafternoonshadowsgrowlong.IonlyleftthecarforalittlebitearliertodaytousethebathroominaJambaJuice.NomatterhowoftenIwashmyface,twenty-twohoursinthecarhascovereditinawaterprooflayerofgrease.Whenthisisover,thetwoofuswillheadbacktoBillings,maybegetahotelroomforafewhourswhereIcanshower.Myskinitchesinanticipation.
“She’scomingbackaroundagain,”Stephaniesays.Justaweekago,amaniackilledherfriendsinfrontofherandnowshe’sontask.We’readaptable,ifnothingelse.“There,themaroonChrysler.”
ThegrowlingMade-in-AmericasteelboxrumblespasttheStarbucksforasecondtime,crop-dustingabigbluecloudofexhaustoverthestreet.
Thenitnosesdowntherowsofparkedcars,twooverfromwherewesit.
Therewassomuchback-and-forthonemail,somuchflirtinganddealmakingandconfirmingthatIwantedtoscream.Itriedtoavoidtalkingnumbers,insteadofferingtoshowherthestashinpersonsoshecouldmakeaninformedoffer.Itriedtoplaydumbandstraightforward,justawomantryingtomakeendsmeetbypickingthroughthriftstoresandmini-storageunits,tryingtobuylowandsellslightlylesslow.
IavoidedtalkingaboutwhereIgotthestash,Iavoidedmentioninganynames,butIcouldn’tavoidtellingherwhatIhad.Hittingsendonthatemailmademefeelgrimy:
THEITEMSIHAVEARELABELEDINPLASTICBAGSBYTHEPREVIOUSOWNER.
THEYARE:
SNEAKERSWORNBYRODDYTORRES(STAINEDWITHDARKSUBSTANCE
ONTOEOFLEFTSHOE)
LIFEPRESERVER,BLOOD-STAINED,FROMCAMPREDLAKE(CAMPLOGO
VISIBLELEFTBREAST)
COATHANGER,TWISTEDINTOBALL,WITHDARKSTAINONEND(WITH
BILLOFSALEATTESTINGTOUSEBYDANIELLESHIPMAN)
MASKWORNBYGHOST1(WITHBILLOFSALEATTESTINGTO
ORIGINALITY)
ONEFIRSTEDITION“THEDREAMKINGANDHISKILLINGKINGDOM”
SIGNEDBYHEATHERDELUCA,AUTOGRAPHREADS“FUCKYOUVERY
MUCH,HEATHER”
FOURHEADSHOTS,TOPLESS,OFACTORBARBCOARDIN“SLAYBELLS”
SIGNEDBYLYNNETTETARKINGTON
Itwasthelastonesthatpulledheroutofhiding.IsentaphotoofoneoftheheadshotsthatStephanietookonherphone.They’retherarestitemsinthelot.WhenwewenttoL.A.thatfirsttime,Garrettgotmetosignafewtoplessheadshotsoftheactresswhowouldplaymeinthemovie.IstoppedsigningmemorabiliaafterIstartedgroup,sotheseareheavycollector’sitems.Shecouldprobablygetclosetofivehundreddollarsforeachone.IfI’dbeenanactualfinalgirlthey’dbeworthmorelikeeighthundredeach.
“Areyouactuallygoingtogiveherthosephotos?”Stephanieasked.
“No,”Isaid.“Butshe’sgoingtowantthem.Bad.”
WewerealreadyleavingNevadawhenInoticedStephanie’sfilthybarefeet.Shehadn’tcomplainedonce.IsentherintoaWalmartwithfortydollars.MyfacewasdefinitelyonanAPBbythen,andbesides,Iwantedtoseeifshe’drun.
Shecameoutfortysweaty-palmedminuteslaterwearingsomeknockoffblackChuckTaylorsandcarryingafamily-sizedbagofSourBriteCrawlers.
“Breakfast?”she’dasked,offeringmesome.
“Youneedsomethingmorenutritious.”
“Who’sagrumpygirl?”sheasked,danglingoneinfrontofmyface.
“Doesthegrumpygirlneedhernutrition?”
Isnappedforwardsuddenlyandsuckeditoutofherfingers.Shelaughedlikeakid.LikeGillian.
Sheasksmequestions;shewantstoknowaboutmylife.I’mguardedatfirst,butsheseemssogenuinelyimpressedbymystoryandsoupsetwhenIshowhermyscarsthatIcan’thelpmyself.ItturnsoutIlikehavingsomeoneridingshotgun.
WhenIslept,Stephdrove,andwhensheslept,Idrove.Shedidmostofthesleepingbecauseshe’sstillwrungout,sobynowI’mwired,eyeballsvibrating,smellingmyownsleepysmellallthetime.TheinsideofmymouthiscoatedwithsugarfromtheSourBriteCrawlers.Iblindlyreachintothebaganddiscoverit’sempty.WhenStephsleepsshetwitchesandwhimpers.
IgothersideofthestoryinbitsandpiecesasweheadedtowardMontana.Apparently,Christophewaitedinhiscaroffthepropertyuntilsundown,thenhefoundablindspotinthesecuritycamerasthatsurroundedthecampandcreptthroughtheperimeter.Afterthat,itwasallpitchforksthroughthechest,peopleimpaledonpokers,arrowsthroughthethroat,andharpoongunsintheeye.Hecrushedherboyfriend’sskullinaworkclampinthewoodshopstudio.They’dbeendatingforthreeweeks.
“We’dbeendatingforsixweeks,”Itoldher.
“Who?”sheasked,chinrestingonherknees,feetonthepassengerseat.
“Tommy,”Isaid.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dsaidhisnameoutsidegroupinoveradecade.“Iwasacheerleader.Hewasafootballplayer.”
“That’ssoJackandDiane,”shesaid.“Wereyouinlove?”
Ithinkaboutthatsometimes,too.
“Weweren’tdatinglongenoughtoknow,”Itoldher.“IfeellikeIwas,butifI’mgoingtobehonestwenevergotachancetofindout.IwasplanningtogoallthewaywithhimwhenRickyWalkerrangthedoorbell.”
“IwasavirginwhenImetPaul,”Stephsaid.“Ididn’tlovehim,butIthinkhelovedme.Didyoudateanyoneafter?”
“Notreally,”Isaid.
Realizationflickeredinhereyes.
“Sowaitaminute?IfyouwereavirginwhenyouweredatingTommyandyoudidn’tdateanyoneafterward,areyou…?”
Hereyesandmouthyawnwidewithhorror.
“Ihadaboyfriend,”Isaid.“Kindof.Afterward.”
“Kindof?”sheasked.
“GarrettP.Cannon,”Isaid.“Andno,I’mnotavirgin.”
IthinkabouthowTommyandIneverhadsex.IthinkabouthowI’dneverknowifmyparents’ChristmasEvedatesavedtheirmarriage.IthinkabouthowmuchGillianlovedhorsesandnevergottorideone.IthinkabouthowIdidn’tprotectmysister.IthinkaboutprotectingStephanie.
HerecomesChrissynow,struttingacrosstheparkinglot,headingfortheStarbucks.Ihaven’tseenherinmorethantenyears,butI’drecognizethatcockystrollanywhere.Chrissystrutslikeshehasallthetimeintheworld.Notlikeme,racingfromonesafeplacetoanother,scanningtheanglesofapproach,tryingtomakesureIspotanypotentialpredatorsbeforetheyspotme.
“That’sher?”Stephasks.
“Staylow,”Itellher.
Chrissywearsmomjeansandadenimjacket.Bigheavypurseoveroneshoulder,fifteenminutesearly.ShepushesherwayintotheStarbucksanddisappears.
“Nowwewait,”Isay.
“Shelooksyoung,”Stephsays.
ShepicksuptheemptySourBriteCrawlersbagandusesherwetfingertiptochasesugarfromitscorners,kneesonthedashboard,watchingtheStarbucksdoor.Herphonesitsinherlap.Ihearitvibrate.
“It’sher,”shesays.
Ireachoverandtouchherwrist.Ifindmyselfdoingthisalot,findingexcusestotouchher.
“Don’tanswer,”Isay.
Wesitinthehotcar,thebagrattlingasStephanieextractseverysinglegrainofsugarlikesomekindofmethodicalantwhileherphonekeepsvibrating.Sheshowsmetheemailsastheycomein,eachoneanotherstageintheprocessofbeingstoodup.There’sthequestion(AmIattherightStarbucks?),there’sthebegging(PLEASEletmeknowwhenurcoming!),thenanger(DoNOTcontactmeagainandIwillmakesureallbuyersknowuraliar!),andthenChrissycomesstormingoutofStarbucks,headingforhercar.
“Thattookalmostforty-fiveminutes,”Isay.
“So?”Stephanieasks.
“ThatmeansthosepicturesIsignedareworthwaymorethanIthoughttheywere.”
Chrissy’smaroonbeatersailspastus,floatingonabigcloudofpaleblueexhaust.Iwaituntilshe’swaydowntheroadbeforeItwisttheignitionandpulloutafterher.EarlierStephandIhadalongargumentoverwhogottodrivebutIwon.I’mthebigsister,afterall.
Atfirstwe’redrivingthroughasprawlofplannedcommunitiesandretailoutlets,butsoonthename-brandstoresarereplacedbydollarstoresandchurches.Wepasscarpetstoresthatareeternallygoingoutofbusiness,judgingbythesun-fadedyellowbannersintheirfrontwindows.WepassstripmallsthatarenothingmorethanarowofForLeasesigns.IrideChrissy’sexhaust,hangingback,makingsureStephaniehasaneyeonherphone’smap,alwaystryingtokeepatleastfourcarlengthsbetweenus
“She’sgettingonRoute2,”Stephaniesays,andIfollow.
Wemergeandtakeoff-rampsandon-rampsandconstructiondetours,andasthesunsinkslowerwegetoffthehighwayontotwo-laneblacktop.Iprayshedoesn’tgoovertheborder.I’mnotsuremyDr.NewburyIDcouldhandletheDepartmentofHomelandSecurity.WepasssomethingcalledtheTroyGroup,dozensofparkinglotsandwarehousesspreadoutoveracresofrawdirt.Thenwepasshouseswithvinylsidingpressedrightuptothestreet,limp,sun-bleachedAmericanflagsstakedtotheirporches,claw-footedbathtubsfullofdeadplantsintheirsideyards.
Theroadwindsbackandforth,switchbackingasitrisesintothehills,andweturnacornerandsuddenlyChrissy’snotthere.ThenIseehercarparkedinfrontofaboxybrickchurch.WezoompastbeforeIcanstop,andwinduplurkinginasidestreetaboutaquarterofamileupahead.
“Keepyourheaddown,”Stephaniesays.
“IknowwhatI’mdoing,”Isay.
EventhoughIdon’thaveavaliddriver’slicense,andI’mmakingthisallupasIgoalong,andI’mfunctioningonnothingbutconfidence,Iwanttoprojectauthority.StephneedstothinkthatIhavethissituationundercontrol.Ineedtomakeherfeelsafe.
Chrissy’scarblowspastustenstressed-outminuteslaterandwepulloutandkeepfollowing,blastingpastthickrunsoftreesthatgivewaytobuildingsclingingtoruralintersections,andthenwe’returningoffthenewblacktopontooldasphalt,andit’snothingbuttreesliningthemountainroadoneitherside.We’reinadeeptrenchoffoliage,theorangesunblockedoutbyleaves,anditfeelslikethedarkiscomingfast.
Theroadwindsanddipsandclimbsanddipsagain,andIfigurewehavetobegettingclosetowherewe’regoing.IfocusonkeepingChrissyinsightupahead,andStephfocusesonnotdistractingme.Webothknowthatifwelosehernowthelasttwodayswillhavebeenfornothing.Stephaniechewshernails.It’shealthierthancandy.
Therearenoothercarsontheroad,soIhangback.Thereareoccasionaltrailerssetdeeponovergrownlots,andplywoodsignsnailedtotwo-by-foursofferingBunnyMeat—$10!andHairCutsforManandWoman.Igetthefeelinganyonewhocouldhaslongsincemovedaway.IplayChrissyoutinfrontofus,lettinghertakethelead,thenreelherincloser,thenletherrunagain.Wedrivedeeperintothehills.
Wecomearoundacurvealmostrightontopofherassheslowlypullsontoadirttrackbranchingoffonesideoftheroad,andIscreampastintheotherlaneandkeepgoinguntilitfeelssafeenoughtopullover.Imakeathree-pointturnandidlenexttoapieceofrottenplywoodleaningagainstatelephonepolethatsaysFirewoodinorangespraypaint.Fromherewecanseetheheadofthedirtroad.Chrissy’scarisalreadydeepinthewoods.
Fivesecondslaterandwewouldhavemissedherentirely.
“Whatarewewaitingfor?”Stephaniedemands.
“Idon’twanttorolldownthatdrivewaylikethis,”Isay.“Shemightbewaitingforustopassandinafewminutesshe’llpulloutagain.Forallweknow,thatdriveway’satrap.Weneedtowaituntildark.”
“Morewaiting?”sheasks,throwingherselfbackagainsttheseat.
“Morewaiting,”Iconfirm.
Thewoodsaresilentandtheirdimnessshadesintoblue,thengray,thentheroadlosesthelastofthelight.Darknesspressesagainstthecarwindowsfromallsides.Chrissydoesn’temergefromthedirtdrivewayandIcan
onlyhopeit’snotashortcutthatleadstoanotherstretchofblacktoprunningparallelthroughthesehills.Ihavetohopethisiswhereshe’sgonetoground.
StephaniefoldstheSourBriteCrawlersbagover,thenoveragain,foldingitintoincreasinglysmallerrectanglesbeforeunfoldingit,pressingitflat,andstartingalloveragain.Iwatchourblindspots,Iwatchtheendofthedirtdriveway,Iwatchthewoods,andfinallyIcan’tputitoffanylonger.
Openingupmyfannypack,Ipulloutmylittle.22andmakesureit’sloaded.
“Ineedsomething,too,”Stephsays.
“I’mgoinginalonetotalktoChrissy,”Isay.“Ishouldbebackinanhour.Ifnot,Iwantyoutocomeafterme.”
“Unarmed?”shesays.
“IfI’mnotbackinanhour,orifIdon’tcallyourcellphonebythen,sneakinthroughthewoodsandfindme.”
“Great,”shesays.“SoI’lluseharshlanguage,orwhat?”
Ihandheracanofpeppersprayfrommyfannypackandzipitbackuptight.Iopenthecardoorandthedoorbuzzerscreamsinthenight.
“Thisshitdoesn’twork!”Stephcallsafterme.
Iclosethedoorfasttoturnoutthelightandgetmynightvisionback.
Thetreesarefullofshriekingcrickets.Ijogalongtheshoulderoftheroadandcutthroughthewoodstowherethedirtdrivewayturnsoff.MyfeetcrunchloudthroughthedeadleavesasIenterthedarknesstofindChrissy,thefallenfinalgirl.
—LynnetteTarkington,personaldiary,January3,2001THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXVII:BrideoftheFinalGirls
IkeepmypistolinmyhandasIslipdeeperintothewoods.Whoknowswhat’southere,whoknowswhatChrissy’sgoingtothinkwhensheseesme,whoknowshowbadthiscouldget.Thetreesbunchtogether,suckingthemoonlightfromtheairasIcrunchdeeperintodarkness.ThenIseeadeadbodyhangingfromatreelimb.Idroptooneknee,stomachflutteringwithmoths.
Itspinsslowly,andit’sachild,maybeababy,andthenIwalkupandtouchitsfoot—wet,moldering,plush.It’saPinkPantherhungfromanoose.Ontheothersideofthetreeisanothernoose,andinthisoneit’sababydoll,strippednakedtorevealitshardplasticheadandsoggypillowbody,hangingbytheneck.Iseemoreofthemsuspendedoverhead,anorchardofrottenfruit:Barbieshungbytheirhair,sixtoabranch,stuffedanimalsrottenwithrain,adeadtreewithDisneycharactersnailedallthewaytothetop.There’sPlutowithanailthroughhisthroat,Minniewithbothglovedhandscrucifiedtothetrunk,Mickeywithaspikethroughhisforehead,stillsmiling.Thetreesarecoveredincartoontumors.
Ikeepmovingthroughthistoycemetery,slowernow.Thesearewoodsthatsomeoneuses,thatsomeoneisfamiliarwith.Icometoawasher,glowingwhiteinthedimness.Myheadbumpsawindchimemadeofscrewdrivers.Theyclackagainsteachothercrazily.Iseeabandonedapplianceshalf-buriedaroundme,rustypaintedmetalsproutingfromtheground.
Iamknee-deepinsomeone’scrazy.Chrissy’scrazy.
UpaheadthetreetrunksthinandintheclearingIseeasaggingranchhouse,thespineofitsroofbrokenandbent.Therearelightsoninside.It’ssurroundedbymossyoutbuildings.Ashedleansagainstoneside;ontheotherisadoghousestuffedwithscraplumber.There’sacarportgettingabsorbedintothetreesfartherbackwithabunchofoblonglumpswrappedinbluetarpsstashedunderneath.Behindthehouserisesamassive,hulkingblackshadow:anenormousprefabbarn,loomingovertherooflinetomenacethefiftieshomeslumpedintheforeground.
Istepbackandbumpintoawarmtreetrunk.Itmoves.It’saman.
Huge,solid,hetowersoverme.Myfirstinstinctistorun,butIhavetraining.Ithrowanelbowintohismidsection,thendropintoasquatandsweephisfeet.Myelbowfeelsbroken,myshinhitshisboots,andpainrocketsupmyleg.Idrivemykneeintohiscrotchandit’slikecrackingmykneecapagainstawall.
Hiseyesaretiny;hisheadisalumpytennisball.He’swearingablacksweatshirtandmilitarypantstuckedintohisboots.HegrabsmywristsandgrindsthebonestogetherandIdropmygun.Ibitehishand.Hedoesn’tevenflinch.HekeepsbearingdownasIkickhisshins,stomphistoes,grindmyteethintohisfilthyskin.Hestinks.HisBOsuffocatesme.
Hegrabsmebythehairandpushesmyheaddownbetweenmyknees.
Ilosemybalanceandstumbleandfeelfireinmyforeheadashehaulsmeupbymyscalp.Heliftsme,andIhavetograbhiswristwithbothhandssomyhairdoesn’tripoutattheroots.Thepainnauseatesme.Myweightdoesn’tbotherhimatall.
IfStephaniecouldseethisshewouldloseallherconfidenceinme.
Thenwe’reoutofthewoodsandwalkingacrosstheyard,intothelight,andupthreebrickstepsandhe’skickingopenthescreendoor.ThepaininmyscalpflaresandIpullmyboxcutteroutofmyfrontpocketandinoneswipeIsliceoffmyhair,takingoffsomeofmyskinalongtheway.HeletsgoandIdropthreeinchesandstaggersidewaysonshatteredglassankles,touchingonekneetothefloor.
Thehouseistoowarmanditsmellslikeyesterday’scooking.WhenIlookup,he’swalkingintothekitchen.Ibangoutofthestormdoorandrun
forwherehetookme,findingmygunintherottenleaves,thenI’mbarrelingthroughthedoorashecomesbackoutofthekitchenwithaknife.
MyarmsgoupautomaticallyintoaWeaverstance,fingeronthetrigger,bothhandscradlingmygun.
“Stop!”awomanshouts.
I’malreadysqueezingthetriggerandthenChrissyisstandingbetweenus.Ishiftmyaimatthelastminuteandtheairsnapsandthere’saholeintheirdrywallandgunsmokehangingintheair.
“Bothofyoustop,”sheshouts,holdingapalmflatouttoeachofus.
Idon’tmoveandneitherdoesPainFreak.Hekeepsstaringatme,stillholdinghisknife,notevenbreathinghard.
“Ishouldhaveknownitwasyou,Lynnette,”Chrissysays.“Youdon’tactuallyhavethosephotos,doyou?”
“Tellhimtoputtheknifedown,”Isay,notloweringmygun.
“Youbrokeintoourhome,”Chrissysays.
Ikeepmy.22rightinthemiddleofhisdeflatedhead.Therearenicksalloverhisskullfromwhereheshaveshimselfbald.Ikeepmyfrontsightrestedontheblackscabcoveringhisrighttemple.
“She’sanoldfriend,Keith,”Chrissysaystohim.Shecaresseshisbiceps.Hestinkslikeahorse.Howcanshebeartotouchhim?“Whydon’tyougoouttoyourworkroomwhilewecatchup?”
Heturnsandwalksbackintothekitchen.Ihearaknifedraweropenandmetalclatterasitslamsshut.Thebackdoorswingsopen,thenslapsclosed.There’ssilenceinthehouse.
“Youwastedmyentireafternoon,”Chrissysays.“Howdoyouproposeyoumakeituptome?”
“Iwantedtowarnyou,”Ilie.“Someone’stryingtokillallofus.”
Chrissyevaluatesmeforaminute,thensmiles.
“Iknowwhatyoucando,”shesays.“Youhavetosignafewbooksbeforeyougo.Comeintothekitchen.”
SheleavestheroomlikeIdon’tmatterandIhearthefridgedooropen.
Ilowermypistol.
IalwaysknewChrissywasdangerous.Whiletherestofuspastedourshatteredlivesbacktogetherandtriedtoputthesemonstersbehindus,Chrissyembracedthem.Shebecametheirloudestadvocateandtheirmostvocaldefender.Shepursuedeveryconspiracytheoryandusedthesettlementfromherhomecomingnightmassacretofundlegalchallengestotheirconvictions.
Dr.Carolhadatheory.ShethoughtthatbecausetheprosecutionreliedonChrissy’seyewitnesstestimony,andbecausehermonsterwashergodfather,maybeshehadadeep-seatedsenseofguiltandneededthemonsterstoforgiveher.Ihadasimplertheory:shewasbatshitcrazy.Andcrazypeoplearedangerouspeople.
ButIdidn’tcomeallthiswaytostandaroundalivingroombymyself,soImustermycourage,lowermyweapon,andfollowhertothekitchen.
Thehouseeithernevergotfinishedorit’sbeingtakenapart.There’sunpainteddrywallnailedupinthelivingroom,thedoorframetothekitchenisanunfinishedtwo-by-four,andthekitchenhasorangeextensioncordsstrungeverywhere.There’sacoffeepotonthetable,nexttoablender.Thecountersarecrammedwithshoppingbags,cookiejars,pieplates.
“Whydon’tImakeusanicecupoftea?”Chrissysays.
She’sstandingatadishwasherthat’sbeenpulledoutfromunderthecounter,fillingakettlefromagallonjug.
“Justsitanywhere,”shesays.
Imoveastackofmailoffawoodendiningroomchairwithloosejointsandsit,backtothewall,whereIcancoverthedoorandthewindow.Iputthe.22onthetableinfrontofme.Itsgripshineswithsweat.Iwipemypalmonthelegofmyjeans.Pillbottlescoverthetable,advertisingmailers,plasticshoppingbagsstuffedwithyellowrubberglovesanddishtowelswiththeirpricetagsstillon.
“Thiswasmyparents’firsthouse,”Chrissysays,puttingthegallonjugdownbytheoverflowingsink.“It’sactuallyworthlessnowthanwhattheypaidforitinthesixties,isn’tthatcrazy?You’dthinkthelandwouldbeworthsomethingatleast.”
“Sorryaboutthat,”Isay.
Sheplugsinthekettleandhuntsthroughcupboardsfortea.Noneofherkitchencabinetshavedoors.
“Thisiscoalcountrybutthere’snomorecoal,”shesays.“Thechemicaltheyusetowashthecoalimpuritiescontaminatedthegroundwater.Theysayit’ssafetodrink,butbabiesgetboilsinsidetheirmouths,andpeople’sgumsbleed.They’vebeensuingthatchemicalcompanyforalmosteightyears.”
ShegoeselbowdeepinacabinetbythefridgeandcomesoutwithasingleLiptonteabag.Shefindsanotherdriedteabaginthesink,peelsitoffthetopofapileofdirtydishes,andrinsestwomugs.
“Why’dyoucomeback?”Iask.
“Keithlikesithere,”shesays.
ThecrazycomesoffChrissylikeperfume.
“SomeonekilledAdrienne,”Isay.“Didyouhearaboutthat?”
Chrissysmiles.Itinfuriatesme.Thekettlescreams.Shepoursthetea.
“Hereyougo,”shesays,puttingthecupdowninfrontofme,notmakingagrabformygun.Itakeasip.It’stoohotandtastesbitter.Chrissydumpstwoshoppingbagsoffachairandsits.“We’vealwaysdisagreedonthemeaningofourexperiences.”
“Apsychoandhisbrothertriedtokillme,”Isay.“Samethinghappenedtoallofus,essentially.What’stodisagreeon?”
“YousaytomatoandIsayshamanisticvisionquestthatusesanordealtoleadusinwardonajourneyofspiritualdiscoveryandeventualsynthesisandpeace.”
“You’reright,”Isay.“Wedodisagree.Butattheendoftheday,someone’stargetingfinalgirls.They’vekilledAdrienneandthey’vedonetheirbesttokillme,they’veputJuliainthehospitalandburneddownHeather’shalfwayhouse.Weneedtoworktogether.Youthinkthey’renotcomingafteryou?”
“That’salwaysbeenyourbiggestflaw,”shesays.“You’vealwayshadthisthewrongwayaround,andaslongasyoudoyou’llliveinfear.”
“Soyouwon’thelp?”Iask.
“Withwhat?”Shelaughs.“I’mnotgoingtojoinsomekindoffinalgirlsuperteam.”
“YoukeepupwithBillyWalkerandHarryPeterWarden,”Isay.“Youcommunicatewiththemregularly,right?”
“Thosemendon’tdeservewhat’sbeendonetothem,”shesays.
“Andyouselltheir…”Ihaveahardtimewiththeword.“Art.”
“Nocomment,”shesays.
“Don’tbecoy,Chrissy,”Isay.“WefoundyournamealloverBilly’svisitorsheet.We’llprobablyseeitalloverWarden’s.You’rebeingused.
Someone’sturnedyouintotheirprivatemessagingsystem.”
ThenIrealizeChrissyhasn’tblinkedoncesinceshesatdown.I’veassumedshe’sthemiddleman,butwhatifshe’sthefullthing?WhatifDr.
CarolneveraskedChrissyforhelpatall?Ithoughtwewererunningawayfromdanger,puttingdistancebetweenStephanieandmeandDr.Carol,butwhatifI’vesteeredusrightintoitsheart?
“DoyoueverhearfromDr.Carol?”Iask,wantingtopickupmygunsobadlymyhandcramps.
“Doesshestillrunyourlittlesewingcircle?”Chrissysmiles.Shestillhasn’tblinked.
“HasanyoneaskedyoutocontactWardenorWalkerforthem?”Iask.
“Idon’tcare,butIneedtoknow.”
“Ofcourseyoucare.”Shelaughs.“Youwouldn’thavespentsolongsuingmeifyoudidn’t.”
“ThatwasMarilyn,”Isay.“Andshefinallydroppedit.Rightnow,noonecaresthatyousellthiscrapfortheseguysanddropmoneyintotheircommissaryaccounts.Imean,it’ssick,andit’smorallyobjectionable,butrightnowwe’vegotbiggerissues.Wethinkwhoever’sbehindthismightbeusingyoutocommunicate.”
Shestudiesmeforaminute.
“Whoever’sbehindwhat?”sheasks.“YouthinkI’mastoogeforsomemysteriousconsortiumofshadowymenwhowantyoudead?Andyouwantmetoviolatethetrustoftheseartistssoyoucantakerevengeonaconspiracyyou’renotevensureexists?”
“It’snotrevenge,”Isay.“It’sself-defense.”
“It’saperversionofnature,”shesays.
Ireachintomyfannypackandtakeoutthefolded-upglossyeight-by-tenandspreaditonthetable.It’soneoftheBarbCoardshots.Chrissysitsupstraight.
“That’sararepiece,”shehissesbetweenherteeth.“You’redevaluingit.”
“I’vegotthreeothers,”Ilie.“I’llsignthemagainanddatethem.Thereareonlyfourothersonthemarket.It’llbeworthyourwhile.”
Shegivesmeapatronizingsmile.
“IhaveallthemoneyIneed.Rightnow,it’smoreaboutcuratingmycollectionthanacquiringnewitems.”
“ThenwhywereyousoeagertobuywhatIwassellingonline?”Iask.
“Beforeyouknewitwasme?”
“Oh,Lynnette,”shesays,allsmugself-satisfaction.“YoureallythinkIdidn’tknowitwasyouallalong?”
Iwanttoslapthatsmugsmileoffhersmugface.Icouldpickupthegunandshoother,notanywherevital,justinthekneecap.Somewherethatwouldhurt.Shedidn’tplayme.Shewasn’tplayingme.I’mnotthatstupid.
Ididn’tjustwalkintoatrap.
“I’vebeenfollowingthenewsoutofLosAngeleswithalotofinterest,”shesays.“Iknewthiswascomingbeforeanyofyou.I’vealwayslovedyou,Lynnette.Ialwaysthoughtthatifanyonewasgoingtocomehereandaskmetherightquestionsitwouldbeyou.”
Thekitchenwindowisashinysquareofdarkness.Idon’thearanymovementintherestofthehouse.
“Doyouknowwhoitis?”Iask.
“Inoticedthenumbersalmosttwoyearsago,”shesays.“Iwonderedwhattheywere.Don’tyouwishyouknewwhatIknow?”
“Whatnumbers?”Iask.
“Thenumbersintheemails,”shesays.
“Whatnumbers?Whatemails?Who’sbeenintouchwithyou?”
“Youwerealwaysmoreofanunfinishedvictimthanarealfinalgirl,”
Chrissysays.“Butit’sasignthatyou’reherenow.Ithinkthisisyourcrisiscomeatlast.”
HereyesshineandIrealizewe’revery,veryfarfromcivilization.
“You’resolucky,”shebreathes.“Ithinkyou’reabouttobecomearealfinalgirl.”
There’salongsilenceandIcheckthedoors,convincedshe’sgivingsomeoneachancetosneakup,butthekitchenisempty.
“Ijustputitalltogether,”shesays.“Oh,it’ssobeautiful.It’sfinallyyourtime,andI’mthenextsteponyourpath.”
Shepressesherhandstoherbreastboneandcloseshereyesinbliss.
“Glory,”shesays.“Come.Mycomputerisinthemuseum.”
ShepushesherchairbackandstandsandIdothesame.Ifollowherdownashorthalltothebackofthehouse,pastherlaundrymachineanddryer.
“WheneverIgetonlineIhavetowalkthroughmymuseum,”shesays,handonautilityroomdoorknob.“Itremindsmedailyofthejourneyeachofushastaken.Andnowyou’llbetakingthatjourney,too.Prepareyourself,Lynnette.I’msohappyyou’llfinallyknowwhatit’slike.”
Sheopensthedoorandcoldairpoursoutlikeshe’sopenedafridge.
Shereachesaroundthedoorframeandturnsonthelights.Ihearfluorescentsflickertolifeupanddowntheenormousprefabbarnlatchedontothebackofherhouse.Butinfrontofusthere’sonlyasmallclosetwithblackcurtainsattheotherend.Abovethemhangsa10”knife,itsbladesmearedwithsomethingdarkandtarry.It’scrossedbyatireironclottedwithhair.
“ThoseareDani’s,”shesays.“Theywereverydifficulttoobtain,butthey’vealwaysmademefeelclosertoher.It’stheweaponherbrotherusedtotransformherfriends,andit’sthetireironDaniusedtokillherbrother.
Theyinandtheyang.Passingbeneaththeminspiresreflection.”
Ifeelslightlysickened.Thenshe’swalkingforward,takingaflashlightoffashelfnexttothecurtainsandpushingthemopenwithbothhands.
Beyondthemit’sdim,andthisfeelslikeaverybadidea.
“Come,Lynne,”shesays.“Letmeshowyousomanywonders.”
“Andtheemails,”Isay,tryingtokeepheranchoredinreality.
“Those,too,”shesays.“Ifyou’restillinterestedinthemafterIshowyoumymuseum.”
Iwipemyhandonmyjeansandthenmakesurethesafetyisoffmy
.22.ThenIfollowChrissyintohermurderabiliamuseum.
—“TheMonsters,OurMakers:FromtheFirstFloodtotheFinalGirls”byChristineMercer,firstpublishedintheJournalofComparativeFolklore,November–December2009THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXVIII:CurseoftheFinalGirls
Herhouseisadisorderedwreck,theproductofadisorderedmind,butinChrissy’smuseumeverythingisfiledaway,lineduponashelf,baggedandtagged,catalogedandclassified.Thesecondweenterthedim,quietfirstroomherbreathingslowsandhermovementsbecomeliquidsmooth.
Thisroomislitbyafewgrandmother’slamps,withafussycarpetonthefloorfreshoutofsomematronaunt’sparlor,stitchedwithruby-redrosesthatbulgelikebloodyorgans,festoonedwithloopingvinesandfloweringgarlandsthatlooklikeintestines.
“Iapologizeforamateurhour,”Chrissysays.“Butyou’dbesurprisedathowmuchdemandtherestillis.”
Shelveslinetheroom.TheyrunallthewayuptothetopofthetemporarywallsthatChrissyhascappedwithwiremesh.AbovethemIcanseedarkness,thenthemetalgirdersholdinguptheprefabroofhighabove.
Ontheshelves,mostpeoplewouldseenothingspecial:nails,glassbottlesofdirt,anoldcaulkgun,curledleathershoes,achild’sclowndoll,rowsofringbindersandscrapbooks,anorderlyprogressionofbrand-newplasticbagscontainingnailfilesandhairbrushesclottedwithwispsofhair,apairofbarber’sscissorstarnishedwithage,anantiqueironwithwhitefingerprintpowderstillonthehandle,abrickstandingalone.
ButIknowwhatI’mlookingat.
NailsfromH.H.Holmes’sChicagomurderhouse,gravelfromwhereBonnieandClydewereshot,thecaulkgunRobertBerdellausedtosealhisvictim’sears,shoeswornbyAlbertFish,alockofCharlesManson’shair,
JohnWayneGacy’sclowntoy,aChristmascardfromTedBundy,abrickfromSharonTate’shome.
ForacertainsegmentofthepopulationthesearestatussymbolsmorepowerfulthananS-ClassMercedesorahouseintheHamptons.ItsmellslikeathriftstorefromHellinhere,heavywiththescentofoldbloodanddriedsweat.Sourfearsweatfromthepeoplewhoranfortheirlives,muskyhungersweatfromthemenwhobroughtdownthehammer.
“Thesewannabeshadnovision,”Chrissysays.“Comeon,wedon’twanttohangaroundherefortoolong.Theirlackofambitionmightruboff.”
Idon’twanttofollowherthroughtheblack-curtaineddoorwayontheothersideoftheroom,butIwillseethisthroughtotheend.Icheckmyphone:onebar,andit’sbeenthirtyminutes.IwanttotextStephandupdateher,butshe’smyaceinthehole.Ican’tgiveheraway.
“Coming?”Chrissyasksfromthedarkness.
Iknowwhat’sintherestofherfunhouse:rarebottlesofwineforthehigh-endcollectors.Themenforwhompriceisnoobject.Ifyouarewhatyoubuy,whatdoesitsaywhenyoujustspent$6,143ontheharpoonthatpinnedapregnantcheerleadertothewallofaboathousein1978?
ButIwillnotquit.Iwillseethisthrough.Icrossthethresholdandenterthedark.Chrissyhasdraggedintemporarywallsandbuiltamazethatwindsthroughherbarn.We’restandinginalonghalllinedwithcloseddoorsanddarkdoorways.
“Doyouknowhowlongittookmetogetthisright?”Chrissyasks.
“Sixyears.That’sanartist’stimetable.Whospendssixyearsbuildingsomethingthat’snotart?”
“Itsmells,”Itellher.
“That’stheirmusk,”shesays.“Andtheperfumeofoursisters.Youknow,I’vealwaysfeltforyou,Lynne.”
“Thanks?”
“No,I’mserious,”shesays.“Ialwaysfeltlikeitmustbesohardtobeyou.Iknewmycallingfromthebeginning,butforyouitmusthavebeenso
confusing.Youwerelumpedinwiththefinalgirlsbutyouwereneverblooded,youneverexperiencedyourinitiation.”
“HowmuchofyourweirdnessdoIhavetoputupwith,Chrissy?”Iask.“Becauseifwecanjustfast-forwardthroughsomeofitthat’dbegreat.”
“You’resofunny,”shesays.“Youstandonthethresholdofsomethingmagnificent,andyoudon’tevencomprehend.”
Shewalksforward,leadingmeintothedark.Somethingbrushesagainstmyface,lightasaspiderweb,andIflinch,tryingtokeepitawayfrommylips.It’sadirtycrochetedshawl.Itwasamistaketocomehere.
I’mbetrayingeveryoneIknowbylisteningtoChrissy’ssickness.It’sclearthatshe’sbeenfesteringouthereinthewoodstoolong,waitingforsomeonetoshowupsoshecouldvomithercrazyalloverthem.Ibitetheinsideofmycheekhard,thepaingivingmesomethingtofocuson.Ineedtoknowaboutheremails.
“Whathappenedtoallofus?”Chrissyasks.“Doyoueverstopandwonder?”
“Like,whyme?”Iask.
“No,”shesays.“Likewhythis?Whyallthesemurders?”
Wekeepwalkingdeeperintohermuseum,pastdarkdisplaycases,pastrowsofStyrofoamheadswearingwhatIthinkarewigs,thenrealizearehumanscalps.Shestopsoutsideadarkdoorwayandwaitsformetocatchup.
“Murderisman’sattempttostealbirthfromwomen,”shesays.“Wemakechildren,theykillthem.Wecreatelife,theycreatedeath.It’sthewayit’salwaysbeen.”
“Whatdoesthathavetodowithourmonsters?”Iask.Monsters.
Sometimesthewordsticksinmythroatbecauseitsoundstoobig,toomystical,toodramatic.Buthereitsoundsright.
“Don’tyousee?”Chrissyasks.“It’savisionquest.Anactofself-creation.Forthemonster,theyaren’tmurderingpeople.They’remurderingpartsofthemselves.Theymurdertheslut,thenerd,thestoner,thejock,thecheerleader.Thosearealldifferentfacetsoftheirownpersonalities.”
“Daniwillbeexcitedtohearthatyouconsiderherfriendsaspectsofherbrother’spersonality,”Isay.
“Notliterally,”Chrissysays.“You’reresistingwhatI’msayingbyclingingtosemantics.I’mtryingtotellyouwhytheydowhattheydo.”
“Becausethey’repsychopaths,”Isay.
“That’ssuchasmallword,”shesays.“Doesitmakeyoufeelsuperiortogivethemadiagnosis,tofilethemawayinalittledrawer?Youknowthey’rebiggerthanthat.Ifitwerejustapsychologicalproblemwecouldfindacure.Thisisametaphysicalproblem.”
“It’sacriminaljusticeproblem,”Isay.
“Thesepartsoftheirpersonalitiesareproblematicbecausetheyareweak,”shesays,ignoringme.“Themonsterwantstobetough,hewantstobedangerous,hewantstobehard,sohekillsthesoftpartsofhimself.Butthejourneyalwaysendsatthesamedestination:nooneisleftexceptthemonsterandthefinalgirl.Nomatterhowmuchhedestroysthoseotherpartsofhispersonality,hecan’tdestroytheessentialfemininesideofhimself.Evendestructioncan’tunmakecreation.Thatprimalfeminineimpulse,thatprocreativeurgecannotbeundone.Whenyouboileverythingdown,whenit’sreducedasfarasitwillgo,that’swhat’sleft.Creationanddestruction,femaleandmale,lifeanddeath,birthandmurder.”
Sheleadsmeintotheroom.It’spitch-dark.Chrissyleanstoherrightandflipsaswitchanddozensoflow-wattagegallerylampsglowandwe’reatCampRedLakecirca1978.Astainedcounselor’ssweatshirtiscrucifiedtothewallaboveme,andcamppennantsrunalongthetopofthewalls.
ShavedlogsslicedinhalfhangfromlanyardswithCampRedLakeCougarswood-burnedintotheirwhitemeat.CampRedLakeFrisbeesarelineduplikedisplayplatesfromtheFranklinMintnexttofootballsandacanoepaddlesignedbyallthegirlsinCabin21.
“TheguywhorantheircampstorewascleaningouthissurplusoneBay.Iwentalittleoverboard,”Chrissysays.
Therearenineframedphotographsinarowoverthesweatshirt,eachoneadifferentsmilingteenager.IrecognizeValerieBates,Adrienne’sbestfriend.Shetalkedaboutheralotwhenshegaveherlectures.ThenInotice
thegrimmersouvenirsscatteredinbetweenthesummerfun.Abowandarrow,theheadofthearrowdentedandbent.Aspeargunwithacrackedrubberband.Amachete.
Theroomsmellsslightlyofpine.Chrissymusthaveanairfreshenerinheretogiveitthatwoodsyscent.
“CampRedLake,”shesays.“DidyouknowitwasbuiltwheretheMonoIndianslived?TheybelievedintheNinitikati,awalkingskeletonthathadeatenallitsownfleshbutremainedeternallyhungry.Itpursuedwomenandatethemandtheirchildren.Onceitstartedhuntingthem,itnevergaveupandtheironlychoicewastokillit.Butitneverdied.Nomatterwhattheydid,Ninitikaticouldputitselfbacktogether.It’sanideathathauntsthosewoods,aspiritlookingforavessel.BruceVolkerhadnohistoryofmentalillnessbeforewhathappened.Accordingtoeveryonewhoknewhim,hecouldn’tevenstandthesightofblood.”
“You’regettingverymysticalwithpeople’slives,”Isay.“Thesearen’tabstractideas,theywereactualhumanbeings.”
“Butwhocares?”Chrissyasks.“Whocaresthattheydied?NinelittlegirlsandBruceVolkerdiedatCampRedLakeandsowhat?Youaddupallofourfriendsandfamilywhohaveeverdiedandyou’vegotlessthanfiftypeople.Fiftymillionpeopledieeveryyear.Sowhydopeoplecareaboutus?Whathappenedthatmadeusallsofamous?Howdidwebecometheideathatstuck?Downtheroadhere,SimmonsWhiterealizedhe’dgetsteadydisabilitypaymentsifhedidn’thaveanarm,sohewentoutandborrowedachainsawfromhisneighborandtriedtosliceitoff.Whenhisdaughterwenttostophim,hechoppedherintopieces,anddecidedtodothesamethingtohiswife.YouknowhowmuchIcouldbuythatchainsawfor?Abouteightydollars.ThesledgehammerthatbelongedtotheHansenfamily?TheonethatkilledMarilyn’sboyfriend?Itsoldfiveyearsagoforfourteenthousand.What’sthedifference?”
“I’mgettingtiredofthis,Chrissy,”Isay.
“No,”shesays.“Youhavetounderstand.Ourdeathsmeanmore.
They’rebigger.Moresymbolic.Theyhaveresonance.Don’tyoueverstopandaskyourselfwhy?”
Sheslipsbackthroughthedoorwayandleadsmeacrossthegloomyhall.Emptyblackopeningsgapefromthewalls,andhallwayscurlaroundcorners.Fromoverheadcomesthetickofcoolingmetalastheday’sheatleachesoutofthesheet-metalroof.
IstepintoanotherdarkalcovewithChrissyandhearasnap,andawomanmaterializesinfrontofme,floatinginmidair.MygutsjumpsixinchesbackwardandI’mabouttofollowwhenIseeit’sanenormouspuffywhitedresssuspendedinmidair.
“ItbelongedtoMarilyn,”Chrissysays.“HerJewelBalldress.Theonesheworein’78.”
Ithangsfromdozensofmonofilamentfishinglines,pullingitintoshape,givingitbodyandform.ItlookslikeaninvisibleMarilynisinside.
“Itwasstoredinherparents’vacationplaceontheGulf,”Chrissysays.
“IsawitonaTVspecialandhadtohaveit.Ipaidtheirhousekeeperalmosteighthundreddollarstogetitforme.SometimesIcomeinhereandjustcommunewithher.”
Thewallsarethickwithcorsages,champagneglasseswithflakinglipstickontherims.There’saframedphotographofallthedebutantesfromthatyear,andthere’sMarilyninthemiddle,beaming,tryingsohardtolooklikeshedidn’tjustwatchherfriendsdietwomonthsbefore.Aboveitall,highuponthewall,intheplaceofhonor,isagrimysledgehammer.
“Isthat—”Ibegin.
“Idon’tintendtosellanythinginthisroom,”Chrissysays,cuttingmeoff.“SoIdon’twanttocommentontheprovenance.”
“You’rereallycreepy,Chrissy,”Isay.
“CreepyChrissy,”shesays.“That’swhattheycalledmeinhighschool.
Well,beforehomecoming.AfterhomecomingIwasahero,asurvivor,avictim.AfterhomecomingIwaseverythingtheyneededmetobe,andeverythingtheywerescaredofmebeing,allrolledupintoone.”
“Chrissy,”Isay.“Iwanttoseethoseemails.”
“Andyouwill,”shesays.“But,Lynnette,whenallthat’sleftisthefinalgirlandthemonster,whathappens?Shepacifieshim,likethevirginandtheunicorn.Theunicorniswildandferocious,butwhenitseesthevirgin
maiditlaysitsheadonherlapandgrowscalm.Thefinalgirlandthemonsteraretwosidesofoneperson.Thinkaboutit.Onerunsfast,andscreams,andisresourceful,andfightsforherfriends.Theotherisslow,andimplacable,andsilent,andhekills,andisalone.”
“Andthen,fuckhim,”Isay.“Hegoestoprison.Orgetskilled.Sowomenrule.Awesome.”
“No,”shesays.“That’sneverwhathappens.Don’tyouknowyourownstory?Hecomesback.Andeventually,shekillshim.Andthat’sthemomentwhenhe’scomplete.Shesetshimfreeandindoingsoshefreesherself.She’stheyintohisyang.Don’tyousee?”
SheflipsoffthelightandIfollowherbackintothehallbecauseIdon’twanttobealonewiththatfloatingwhitedress.Wewinddeeperintothedarkmaze,andsheclicksonherflashlightsoneitherofuswalksintoanywalls.
“Ijustwanttoshowyouthisonerealfast,”shesays.“Ithinkitmightbetoohardforyoutostayinsideforverylong,butit’ssostriking.”
Shepushesopenachain-linkdoorandturnsonthelight.Thetwoofusstandinthedoorway,andIamstaringintohorror.Iwanttocry.
“It’sHeather’s,”shebeams.“IinvitedtheDreamKinghereandhebuiltithimself.Ihadtosellallofmyownmemorabiliatopayforhisservices,butIthinkitwasworthit.”
Mybraincan’twrapitselfaroundwhatI’mseeing.
“How…?”Istart.
“TheDreamKinggoeswherehewants,”shesays.“They’llfindeventuallythatthemantheyhaveinprisonservinghistimehadnothingtodowithwhatactuallyhappened.Buthe’saservantoftheKingandhewouldnevertell.TheDreamKingisverycarefulabouthowhefeedsnow.
It’sshocking,isn’tit.”
Mymindtriestopickapartthehowlinginsanityinthatroom,andifHeatherwerehererightnowIwouldforgiveherforbetrayingme.Iwouldforgiveherforbetrayingeveryone.It’ssomuchworsethansheeversaid.
“Don’tgetsuckedin,”Chrissytellsme.“We’vestillgotalongwaytogo.”
Sheturnsoutthelightandclosesthegate,andIpullmyselfawayfromthatroom.
“Bestrong,Lynne,”shesays.
Puttingonehandonmyelbowshesteersmearoundacornerintoanotherroom,andtheharshfluorescentlightingassaultsmyeyes.
“Thisisyourroom,”sheenthuses.“Ithinkaboutyouallthetime.”
It’stotallyempty,justprefabricatedwallsandablackcurtainoverthedoor.Thefloorisbareconcrete,andtheslightlyflickeringfluorescentfixturehanginginthecenteroftheceilingmakesmypupilsache.
“Youhaven’tgoneonyourjourneyyet,”shesays.“Butthere’ssomuchpotential.I’mexcitedwe’llbefillingthisonetogether.”
Shesnapsthelightoffandthenshe’sguidingmeintoanotherroom.
WhenthelightscomeonagaintheroomwallsareveryfarawayandI’msurroundedbypeople.Iturnandstareatthem,andtheyturnandstareatme,backingaway,raisingtheir.22.
“ThisisJulia’sspecialplace,”Chrissysays.“It’salldonewithmirrors.”
Icalmmybreathingandexaminethewalls.They’recoveredinmirrors,theirframeswrappedinaluminumfoilorpaintedsilversothey’rebarelyvisible.There’swaist-highglassshelvingalongoneofthewallsandontopofitaretheheadsoftheGhost,twoofthem,yawningateachother.
“Theolderone’sactuallyareplica,”Chrissysays.“Thesecondonecostmequiteabitofmoney.OneoftheguyswhoinventedFacebookownstheoriginal.”
“Howmuchhaveyouspentonallthis,Chrissy?”
ThereareX-raysofJulia’sspinalcolumnmountedinalightbox,photocopiesofreportsfromherphysicaltherapist,adisplaycasecontainingthreestainedandcorrodedhuntingknives.MyreflectionsandIstareatitallinsadnessandwonder.
“Itwasworthit,”shesays.
“Wasit?”Iask.“Imean,Iknowyou’reonthismysticalkick,butwhat’sthepoint?”
“Comeon,”shesays.“I’llshowyoutheemails.”
Sheleadsmeintothehallanddownanotherdimcorridor.
“I’msoproudofyou,”shesaysoverhershoulder.“See,Daniisthejock.Heatheristhestoner,Juliaisthenerd,Marilynisthewhore—sorry,butshe’sbeenmarriedtwice—Adriennewasthecheerleaderbecauseshewasalwaysrootingforyouguys.He’scomingforeveryoneonebyone,andhe’sgoingtocomeforyoulast.You’regoingtobecomethefinalgirloffinalgirls.”
“Whataboutyou?”Iask.
“I’mahumbleservantwhoshowsyoutheway.”Shesmiles.
Wecometoalarge,openofficespaceagainstthebackwallofthebarn.
AdesklampburnsonacomputertablenexttoaniMacsurroundedbypackingsupplies.Chrissyleansoverandbootsitup.
“Don’tyourealizewhatpurposemonstersserve?”sheasks.“Monstersalwaysguardtreasure,butitdoesn’thavetobeliteral.Itcanbeknowledge,transcendence.InthecenteroftheMinotaur’slabyrinthliessomethingprecious:monstrousknowledge.Eachofushasamonsterwemustconfront,amonsterdesignedtotestourpersonalweaknesses.Andintheend,theybringaboutourdeaths.Notliteraldeath,butdeathastheconclusionofthisphaseandthebeginningofanother.Deathistheharbingeroftransformation,thatwhichprecedesanewlife.No,dammit.Idon’twanttoupgradetoOS10.6.”
Shejabsatherkeyboard.
“Fearingdeathisjustresistancetochange,”Chrissysays.“Therewego.”
Windowsfillthescreen.Shesitsinherergonomicchairandstartsscrollingthroughemail.
“WhenIrealizedwhatwashappeningIputthemallintheirownfolder,”shesays,clickingthrough.“Here.”
Theemailisfromorchomenus@hotmail.com.Ididn’tknowanyonestillusedHotmail.
HELLO,
IAMACOLLECTOROFUNUSUALITEMSANDOFUNUSUALPERSONS.IWISH
TOOBTAINASMALLPIECEOFART—PREFERABLYCHRISTMASTHEMED—FROM
BILLYWALKEROFTHESILENTNIGHTSLAYINGS.DOYOUTHINKTHISIS
POSSIBLEANDWILLYOUQUOTEMEAPRICE.IWOULDALSOLIKEYOUTO
PASSTOBILLYTHISFOLLOWINGREQUESTINFULL
“DEARBILLY,
IAMAADMIREROFYOURWORKANDFEELYOUAREFALSELYACCUSEDOF
THOSECRIMES.ITHINKYOURBROTHERISAGREATHEROANDAMANWHO
SHALLLIVEFOREVER.IWANTTOCOMMISSIONAARTOWRKFROMYOUOF
SOMESIZE.ITSHOULDBEASCENEOFTHENORTHPOLEWITHCOLORSAND
ONTHELARGESTPAPERYOUHAVE.ILIKEELVESANDSANTATYPE
SCENARIOSANDWOULDAPPRECIATEYOURIDEAS.
80-438-18121-24163-2228-13215-15247-6247-1463-1.
AVIDFAN”
“Didyousendthison?”Iask.
“Ofcourse,”shesays.“IvisitBillyeverythreemonthsandIalwayshavecommissionsforhim,informationtoassistinhisdefense.Iliketobringhimbooks.Ifyougottoknowhim,Ithinkyou’dlikehim.”
Anailpressesintothecenterofmyforehead,rightbetweenmyeyes.Ididn’tthinkthiswouldbesohard.
“Thatsoundsbeautiful,”Isay.
Sherumblesopenafilingcabinetandpullsoutafolderstuffedwithpaper.
“SoIprintedthisoutandtookittohim,”shesays.“Andtwoweekslaterhecalledandaskedmetowritedownexactlywhathesaid.Here.”
COMMISSIONACCEPTED.$325,TBTRANSFERREDINTO
COMMISSARY$25/TRANSFERx13TRANSFERS
SANTAELVESRIDINGREINDEERBESIDEHOLEINICE.
MRS.CLAUSWATCHING.BIGBREASTS
134-2935-3190-3190-9254-236-22
“Hemademerepeatthenumbersbacktohimthreetimes,”shesays.
“Andthatwasjustthebeginning.”
Shepullsmorepaperoutofthefolder,printoutsoftheemails,notesshejotteddownduringphonecallsorvisits,andeverysingleoneofthemendswithastringofnumbers.Sometimestheyrepeat,sometimestheydon’t,butthere’sclearlyapattern.
“HowmanyartworksdidhecommissionfromBilly?”Iask.IthurtsmetotalkaboutBillylikehe’sanormalartist,exhibitingingalleriesandnegotiatingwithbuyers.
“Sixovereightmonths,”shesays.“Althoughheneverdidathree-hundred-twenty-five-dollaroneagain.It’stoobad.IthinkBilly’sbestworksarehislargerpieces.”
“Howmanycommunications?”Iask,thumbingthroughtheoverflowingfolder.
“Almostahundred,”shesays.
“They’reacode.”
“Ofcourse,”shesays.
Iputthepapersdown.Thebarnfeelsverybig,andverydark,andthetwoofusfeelverysmallhuddledtogetherinthistinypooloflight.
“Youalreadyfigureditout,didn’tyou,”Isay.
It’snotaquestion.
“Icrackeditbythesecondcommission.”Shesmiles.“It’sabookcode,liketheydoinRedDragon,youknow,thefirstHannibalLecterbook?Thelettersrefertopageandlinenumbers.It’sthefirstletterorwordoneveryline.”
“Whatbook?”Iask.“It’dhavetobeonethatOrchomenusknowsBillyhasinhiscell.”
“TheDiaryofAnneFrank,”shesays.“Everyprisonhasacopy.”
Iimaginethesetwoperverts,thumbingthroughtheirbatteredlibrarycopiesofDiary,flippingpastDespiteeverything,Ibelievethatpeoplearereallygoodatheart,coordinatingtheirsickness.
“Whatdiditsay?”Iask.
“OrchomenustoldBillyaboutthelettersyouwrotetohisbigbrother.”
Shesmiles.“Andhepaidhimtotellthepoliceaboutthemandtolieandsayhe’dburiedthemwhereOrchomenushadthemhidden.Whenthetimewasright,thatis.Orchomenusknowsyouverywell,wellenoughtoforgeyourhandwritingonsomeextraletterstheythrewintomakeyourcomplicityclearer.”
Elevatorinmyguts,goingdown.Mylegsdon’tfeelstrongenoughtoholdmeup,butthere’snochairandI’llbedamnedifshe’sgoingtoseemefaint.
“Whoisit?”Iask.
“Don’tyouknow?”sheasks.“Afterall,you’renotBilly’sfinalgirl.”
“WhoseamI?”
“Youprobablywouldhavefigureditouteventually,”shesays.“Youmightnotbethesmartestoneofus,butyou’vealwaysbeenthemoststubborn.You’reOrchomenus’sfinalgirl.”
Shesmilesatme,allsmugandsecure,andI’msuddenlyawarethattherearetoomanywoodsaroundthishouseandnotenoughpeople.
“Whoishe?”Iask.“Orchomenusathotmail.Iknowyouknow.”
“DoyouknowwhatOrchomenuswas?”sheasks,puttingthefolderbackinherfilingcabinet.“ItwasacityinancientGreece.OnceayearitheldaFeastofDionysuswherethepriestwouldwieldanakedbladeandpursuefleeingwomenintothenight.Ifhecaughtanyofthemhehadtherighttoslaythemwithimpunity.Thishasbeengoingonforsomuchlongerthanyouthink.”
“Icanmakeyoutellme,”Isay,gesturingwithmypistol.
“Ithoughtitwouldbeobvious,”shesays.“OrchomenusisDr.Carol.”
IthoughtIwaspreparedfortheevidencewhenitappeared,butnothingcanpreparemeforthisbetrayal.Iamvalidatedanddestroyedsimultaneously.Themonstrousknowledgecrushesme,slowandheavy,andIcouldn’tpointmygunatherrightnowifmylifedependedonit.AndIthinkitdoes.
“Iboughtthoselettersinamini-storageauctionalongtimeago,”shesays.“I’dhadmyeyeonitbecauseIknewtheunitbelongedtotheheadofthefosterhomewheretheWalkersgrewup.Itookthemrighttothepublicdefender.Theyreturnedthemsixmonthslater.Saidthatan‘expert’hadreviewedthemanddeemedthemnotrelevant.Justthetypicalproductofanadolescentgirl.Notevenworthamention.IheldontothemuntilOrchomenuscontactedmetobuy.Iaskedforanemailfromtheirrealaccount.SomethingIcouldverify.Plustwelvehundreddollars.Peopleonlyvaluewhatcoststhemmoney.It’ssad,really.”
IbreathedeeptocalmthepanicattackIfeelstartingtocrampmylungs,buttheyspasminsteadandIhiccup.Ilowermyselfontomyhaunches.HowmanyofoursecretsdoesDr.Carolknow?Whydidn’tshekillmeinherhouse?Whatgameissheplayingwithourlives?
IhearChrissyrummagingthroughherdrawersandmychestaches.
Someone.Pleasehelpme.ButDr.Carolismymonsterandthere’snoonewhocanhelp.
ExceptStephanie.
She’llcome.She’llcomewithherpepperspray,andKeithwillbeinthewoodswaitingforher.Andhe’llhaveapickaxe,oradrill,orabutcher’sknife,andshe’llonlyhavemypeppersprayandshe’sright:thatshitdoesn’twork.
“Ifoundoutlaterthatthepublicdefender’s‘expert’wasDr.Carol.Shetoldhimthoselettershadnovaluein2004,andthensheboughtthemfrommein2009,”Chrissysays.“Herunderstandingmusthavematuredinthosefiveyears.Yourlittlesupportgroupisjustthekillinggroundshe’screatedfortheultimateseriesofsacrificesinwhichshe,thelastmonster,andyou,thefinalfinalgirl,willtranscendtogether.YouneededmetoleadyoutotheheartoftheMinotaur’slabyrinthbecauseyoucan’tfacethetruth,soyoucametoCrazyChrissy.Didyouknowthatallthebestoraclesinclassicalmythologywerecrazy?”
Sheknewabouttheletters.Forsixyearssheknewaboutthelettersandsheneversaidanythingtome.Howlonghasshebeenplanningthis?Sheevenwrotenewones,andIseeherinherstudy,doorlocked,bentover
HollyHobbiestationery,fabricatingsexbetweenmeandRickyWalker,andifIneededtoknowhowmuchshehatesus,it’sthismuch.
Thefloortipsdangerously.Thewallsrevolvearoundme.There’sasoftdigitaldingfromtheiMacandapop-upwindowappearsonthescreen.
“Oh,look,”Chrissysays.“Keithjusttexted.He’sfoundsomethinginthewoods.”
IamstupidandIamdumbandIunderestimatedjusthowcrazyDr.
Carolreallyis.IseeChrissy’sfeetstandinginfrontofmeandItrytolookup,Itrytoraisethegun,butmyentirebodyisacramp.
Somethingbitesmyrightshoulderanditgoesdead,andmylegsstopworkingandI’mlookingattheceilingandIfeelpressureonmywaist,andthefannypackiscomingoffandIseeChrissyandshe’sholdingmypistolinherrighthandandthere’sastunguninherleft.Myrightarmfeelsbroken.
“Let’sgointothelivingroomandseewhatKeiththinksweshoulddowithyourlittlefriend.”Shesmiles.“Sometimesheneedstobeletoffhisleash.”
Stephanie,I’msosorry.
Youwereneversafewithme.
—“TheMonsters,OurMakers:FromtheFirstFloodtotheFinalGirls”byChristineMercer,firstpublishedintheJournalofComparativeFolklore,November–December2009THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXIX:FinalGirl’sRevenge
Whathaveyoufound,Keith?”Chrissycallswhenwereachherlivingroom.“Whatdoyouhavethere?”
Keithswingsopenthestormdoorwithhishipandlugsinabagofbones.He’sholdingherunderneathherarmsandshe’slimp.Hiseyesareredandraw.MyheartsinksbecauseStephmusthavesprayedhimanditdidn’tdoshit.
“She’sdead,”Isay.
“Assumingmakesanassoutofyouandme,”Chrissysays,puttingahandonmyarm.“Keithwillletusknowifhedecidestogointhatdirection.”
ThestormdoorswingsshutonthebackofStephanie’scalvesandmakesascrapingsoundasKeithyanksherinside,shuckingoffoneofherfakeChuckTaylors.Hehalfthrows,halfdumpsherontoasaggingarmchairinthecornerthat’scoveredindirtyclothes.
“Youfoundsomeonenosingaround,didn’tyou?”Chrissyasks,likeshe’stalkingtoherdog.
HecasuallytossestheMaceontopofthelayerofMcDonald’sbagsonthecoffeetable.
“Girl,”Keithmumbles.
Ithinkhehasanerection.Hepressesthebackofhisforearmagainstthecrotchofhisjeans.
“Stephanie,”Isay,startingtowalktowardher.
Herfaceispaleandblooddroolsfromablackdentinherforehead.
Leavessticktoherhoodie.HereyesareopenbutI’mnotsureshe’sseeing
me.
“Don’t,”Chrissysays,grabbingmybeltandpullingmebackward.
“CrowdingKeithisabadidea.”
ShelooksmedeadintheeyesandholdsmygazeuntilInod,andthenwebothconsiderKeith.He’ssquattingonhisheels,elbowsrestingonhisknees,handsonStephanie’sleg,lookinglikeagiantsquirrelstaringupintoherface.
“Whatarewegoingtodowithher,Keith?”Chrissyasksinakindergartenteacher’svoice.
“It’sStephanie,”Isay.Repeatingapotentialvictim’snamecreatesempathy.Idon’tthinkit’llhaveanyeffectonKeith,butifitcanevengethimtohesitateforaseconditmightmakeallthedifference.“FromRedLake.”
“Weknowwhosheis,”Chrissysays.
ChrissystaresdownatKeith,andKeithstaresupatStephanie,andStephanie’seyesrollaroundtheroomuntiltheystoponme.
“Lynnette?”shesays,thick-tongued.“Icame.”
IneedtokeepherthinkingIcanprotecther.Rightupuntiltheend.
EvenifIcan’t.Shewon’tdiescared.
“Weshouldgo,”ItellChrissy,rememberingherinthemuseum:Sometimesheneedstobeletoffhisleash.“Weshouldgoandnotbotheryouanymore.”
“You’resocute,”Chrissygiggles.
Keithhuncheshisneckdownandpracticallywriggleswithpleasure.
Theroomischargedandatanysecondsomeoneisgoingtocommittothenextstepandnoneofuswillbeabletogoback.
“Iwanttogonow,”Stephsays.“Okay?Canwepleasego?”
GilliangotthatsamehitchinhervoiceonChristmasEve.Ihearditwhenshewalkedintothelivingroom,notunderstandingwhatwasgoingonevenwhenRickyWalkerturnedaroundandsawher.
“Lynnette,”she’dsaidashe’dstartedtowardher.“Iwanttogobacktobednow.Iwon’ttellanyoneIsawSanta.TellhimthatIwon’ttell.Please,Lynnette?”
AndIhungthere,pretendingtobedeadbecauseIwassoscaredthatwhenRickyranoutofvictimshewouldtakeacloserlookatmeandIdidn’twanttodie.
“Lynnette?”Gilliansaidrightbeforehepickedherupandshestartedscreaming,andit’sStephaniesayingitnowandwe’reinChrissy’sjunkylivingroomandIneedtogetoutofhere.
KeithstareshardatChrissy.
“Whatisit?”sheasks.
“Want,”Keithdemands.
AndChrissylooksatme,thenatStephanie,thenatmeagain,performingsomekindofmentalarithmetic,addinguptheprosandcons,andthenshesmiles.It’sasmilethatI’mgrowingtoassociatewithnothinggood.
“Anartistneedstopracticeorhistoolslosetheiredge,”shesays.“Idon’twantKeithgettingdull.”
“Myheadhurts,”Stephaniesays.
“Youdon’tunderstand,”Isay,andinspirationmakesmebrave.“She’safinalgirl.Keithcan’tdoanythingtoher;hehastosavehimselfforyou.
Shehasherownmonster.”
Chrissyshakesherheadandsmiles.
“Thisisn’tareligion,”shesays.“It’snotlikeKeith’sgoingtoHellifhegoesoffhisdiet.”SheturnstoKeithandgetshisattention.“Youneedtomakeherlast,lover.”
Keithnodsandholdsuptwofingers.
“Twodays,”hesays.
“It’sagoodthingalltheneighborsmovedaway,”Chrissysays.“Shelookslikeascreamer.”
“Youcan’tdothis,”Isay.“She’safinalgirl.”
“Youneedtogetgoing,Lynnette,”Chrissysays.“OnceKeithstartsit’shardforhimtostop.I’mnotinanydanger,butyou’vegotadestinytofulfill.”
I’mplayingallmycardsandthey’renotmakinganydifference.
“Withher,”Isay.“Sheneedstogowithme.Ipromiseyou,Chrissy,justlethergowithme.She’safinalgirl.”
Keithstandsandbeginstosearchthroughthepilesofgarbageonthefloor,thenputshischestonthecarpet,hisbuttintheair,andhereachesunderneaththecouch.
ChrissygoesandsitsinStephanie’slapandplayswithherbangs.Stephjerksherheadaway,andChrissygrabsherchinwithherfingersandholdsitinplace
“Thisone’snofinalgirl,”shesays.“She’salittlemonster.Keithlovestoworkwiththiskindofmaterial.”
Keithstandsupfromthecouch,adentedandstainedaluminumbaseballbatinonehand.
“Lynnette?”Stephaniesaysbecausenowsheseesthebatandsheseesmeedgingtowardthefrontdoor,andhereyesarebigandwetoverChrissy’sshoulder.
“?‘Heisthetenderbutcherwhoshowedmehowthepriceoffleshislove,’?”Chrissyrecites,holdingStephanie’schinandlookingintohereyes.
“?‘Skintherabbit,’hesays!‘Offcomeallmyclothes.’?”
Keithtakesapracticeswingwithhisbaseballbat.Itmakesasoundthatgoesschwoop
Chrissyturnsaroundandraiseshereyebrowsatme.
“You’dbetterrun,”shesays.
Keithtakesanotherswingwithhisbat.Thistime,itscoopsadentoutofthewall.
Irun.
Iclosethedistancetothedoorintwolongstrides,andoutofthecornerofmyeyeIseeKeithnoticemymovementandtakeasteptowardme,andIcrashthroughthescreendoor,notevenopeningitfirst,andIheartheclearplasticpanelinthecentersplit,andthebackofitbangoffthesideoftheircrappyhouse.ItalmostdrownsoutStephanie’sscreams.
“Lynne!”sheshrieks,overandoveragain.
Evenouthere,IcanhearChrissylaughing.
I’mdownthestepsinasecondandmyfeetsliponthegraveldriveway,butIpumpmyarmsanddrivemyfeetdownintothedirtandIrunasfastasIcan,puttingdistancebetweenmyselfandthehouseandStephanie’sscreams.Ionlyhaveafewseconds.
ItriedtotakeKeithdownbeforeandImightaswellhavepunchedatree.Iracedownthedarkdriveway,shadowsoneitherside,pantingandcrunchinggravel,forcingmyselftorunfaster.Ineedtobefaster.
Youneedtoprotectyoursister.
IreachtheChevyandslideinside.TheignitionturnsandtheenginehumstolifeandI’mwrenchingthewheeltotheleftandplowingdownthedirtdrivewaytowardChrissy’shouse.Ikeeppressingdownontheaccelerator,passingtwenty-five,passingthirty,passingthirty-five.Thecar’stiresbarelyclingtothedirt.I’mhittingpotholesandrutssohardthetopofmyheadslamsintotheceiling.Thetiresleavetheroadandcomedownhardagainandagain.IftheylandwrongI’llslideintoatreeanddie.
Passingforty,passingforty-five.Iswitchonmyheadlights,andChrissy’swhitehousespringsintoviewdeadahead.Thehouseismadeofsheetmetalandvinylsiding,probablycosttwenty-fourthousanddollarsinthesixtieswhenherparentsboughtit,andasstructurallysoundasawetcardboardbox.
IleftJuliabehind.IleftFinebehind.Iwon’tleaveSteph.
Theworldjogscrazilyupanddowninmywindshield.I’mclingingtothesteeringwheel.Passingfifty,passingfifty-five.ThesoundofthetiresgoesquietwhenIleavethegraveldriveway.
I’mgoingsixtymilesanhourwhenIslamintothefrontofChrissy’shouse.
Thewallfillsmyheadlights,thenitfillsmywindshield,thenit’sexplodingandthehouseiscollapsingontothecarandtheworldsoundslikeit’ssplittinginhalf.TheairbagsexplodeintomyfaceandmysinusesarefullofwhitepowderandIfeellikesomeonejustbrokemynose.
Ittakesmeaminutetonoticethatthecarisn’tmovinganymore.TheonlysoundistheenginerevvingwhileIdumblymashdownontheaccelerator.I’mtrappedinaworldofrubble.Iputitinreverseandthetires
spin,thencatch,thenthere’sdrywallslidingofftheroofanddownthewindshieldandfallingoffthehoodastheLuminadragsitselfbackwardoutofthehouse.Therearesick,wheezingsoundscomingfrombeneaththehoodandoneoftheheadlightsisdead.Iseethedamage.Theentiresideofthehouseiscavedin,andshatteredsheetsofdrywallavalancheoutoftheentrywound.AsIwatch,theroofslowlysagssideways,andthekitchenceilingcollapsesinanexplosionofwhitedust.
Ileavethecarrunningandgetoutbutitinstantlystalls.It’sshockinghowquietthenightis.TheonlythingIcanheararecrickets.Ipickmywaythroughtherubblethehousevomitedacrossthedirt.Itriedtoaimthecaratthefrontdoor,awayfromthecornerwhereStephaniesat,butbythetimeImadecontactIwasbarelyincontrol.IgrabtheedgeoftheholeItorewiththeLuminaandhaulmyselfinside.Bigslabsofdrywallslidebeneathmyfeet.Thickwhitedusthangsintheair.Awaveofwreckagesmashedintotheoppositewall,buttomyleft,theroomlookspristine.Stephaniesitsinherchair,frozeninshock,handswrappedaroundherhead,kneespulleduptoherchest.ThecarkickeduptheTVandittookChrissysquareinthechest,smashingherbackwardthroughtheSheetrock.Herjeans-cladlegsstickoutfromunderneath.Idon’tseeKeithanywhere.
Iturnaway.Idon’twanttolookatChrissy’sbody.Imakeablindspotinmymindandswearnottolookinthatcorneroftheroomagain.
“Steph,I’mhere,”Isay,wrenchingmyhipsoutofjointasIpickmywayovertherubbletoher.“Areyouokay?”
“Youdrovethecarintothehouse,”shesays,numb.
“Icameback,”Isay.“Icameback.”
Ihelpherupoutofthechairandjumpwhensomethinggrabsmyankle.I’msokeyedupIscreamevenbeforeIlookdownandseeKeith’sbloodywhitearmstickingoutfromunderapileofdrywall,handclampedaroundmyleg.
“No,no,no,no,”Stephsays,seeingitandbackpedalingoutofmyarms,shakingherhead.
“Steph,”Isay.“Don’tpanic.”
Thehandbearsdown,pressingmybonestogether,andIbringmyotherfootupandstomponhisfingers,hard.IhurtmyselfmorethanIhurtKeith.
ThepileofrubbleshiftsasKeithstartstohaulhimselfout.Ikneel,pickupalongwoodensplinter,andpunchholesinhishandagainandagain,thesplintergettingslickwithhisblood.HishandfinallyspasmsopenandIyankmyfootaway.
TherubbleeruptsasKeithstands,silentandunstoppable.Hisspinehasbeentwistedoutofshapeandhe’sbendingovertoofartooneside.I’mfrozen,justafewfeetaway,Stephinmyarms.Keithtakesastepforwardandhislegsgiveout.Hegoesdownonhishandsandknees,thenturnshisred-rimmedpuppy-dogeyestome.
“Hurts,”hesays.
Ihearvertebraepoppingashestandsbackupandthespellisbroken.
Limping,hobbling,slipping,falling,IdragStephaniethroughtheholeandoutofthehouse.Igethertothecarandshoveherintothepassengerseat.
HereyesfixonsomethingovermyshoulderandIturn.Behindus,Keithhasdraggedhimselfoutoftheshatteredsideofthehouse,hunchedoverbutmoving,hisbaseballbatheldinonehandlikeacane.Islamthedoorandruntothedriver’sside,goingaroundthebackofthecar,notwantingtopasstooclosetoKeith.
Igetinandlockthedoors.Keithkeepscoming.Iturnthekeyandnothinghappens.Keithtakesanotherlurchingstep.Iturnthekeyagainandthestartergrindsbuttheenginedoesn’tcatch.Finalgirlslearnedalongtimeagonottorelyonthingsotherpeopletakeforgranted.Weallknowthatelevatorsandtelephonesneverworkwhenweneedthem.Andcars.
Especiallycars.
Keithletsgoofthesideofthehouseandtakesthreefaststepstowardtheheadlight,andthenheseesmethroughthewindshieldandfocuses,andcomesforme
Iturnthekeyagain.ThestartergrindsandIsobasthesparkcatchesanditroarstolife.Forasecond,IcontemplatestompingontheacceleratorandcrushingKeithbetweenthefrontbumperandthehousesothatblack
bloodfountainsoutofhismouth,andthenIthinkofChrissy’slegsstickingoutfrombeneaththetelevisionsetandstomachacidscorchesmythroat.
Ithrowitintoreverseandgetthehelloutofthere.
TheChevyscreamsatmealltheway,anditsenginekeepsracingfornogoodreason,butIgetustoadocinaboxoutonthehighwayandforfivehundredfiftydollarstheythrowsixstitchesinStephanie’sscalpandgivehersomeDemerol.BackonthehighwayIgetuseightymilesaway,thenfindaMotel6,andIdragStephanietobed.Igethershoesoff,makesureshehaswater,becausewakingupwithdrymouthfromDemerolcanbehorrible,andthenIputthechainon,pushthechairupagainstthedoor,andslumpdowninthebathtubandcry.
I’mamurderer.IkilledChrissy.Istoppedthelifeofahumanbeing.
Chrissywasterrorizedlikeme.Stalkedlikeme.Sawherfriendsdielikeme.AndIkilledher.IbiteatowelwhileIscreambecauseIdon’twantStephtohear.Theotherfinalgirlswereallblooded,theyallhadtokilltheirmonsterstostayalive,butnotme.Ipossummedmywayout.KillingwaswhattheWalkerbrothersdidtome,notwhatIdidtoanyoneelse.LikeChrissysaid,Icreate,Idon’tdestroy.
Ofcourse,whathaveIevercreatedexceptanemptyfortressthatIlockedmyselfinside,alifewithnofriendsexceptforaplantthatwasonlyaliveinsidemyhead?Andmybook?Andthoseletters?
AllIevercreatedwasshit.
Mythoughtsfeelheavyandabsolute,irrevocableandfinal.Ihavemurderedsomeone.WheneverIwatchedamovieandsomeherorefusedtokillthevillainbecause“thenI’llbeasbadasheis,”Idismisseditasabunchofmoralistichand-wringingbybaldingHollywoodscriptwriterswhohadonlyeverkilledthelastrolloftoiletpaper.Buttheytappedintoauniversaltruth.I’mlivinginanewworldnow,andinthisworldIamamurderer.
Ican’ttakeitback,Ican’tfixit,Ican’tmakeitbetter,butIcandoonethingaboutit.
Icanneverdoitagain.IswearharderthanI’veeverswornanythingsinceIwasalittlegirl:Iwillnotkillagain.Nomatterhowmanylivesit
willsave.Nomatterhowmuchitputsmyownlifeatrisk.Nomatterwhat.
Nomorekilling.
AtsomepointIfallasleepbecausewhenIopenmyeyesI’mcoldandIhaveaheadacheandmyneckissore.Istandupandstretch,feelingthevertebraeinmybackpoponebyone.AslitofsunlightpoursthroughthewindowswhereIdidn’tgetthecurtainsquiteclosed.StephanieliesintheexactsamepositionIleftherin,butafteranervousmomentIseeherchestsoftlyriseandfall.Irelax.Nooneelseisdead.
IlostmyfannypackinChrissy’shouse,soitwon’tbelongbeforethecopsfindmyDr.NewburyIDandthenthey’llcontactDr.Carolandshe’lltellthemaboutme,andthey’llhavemynameandlastknownlocation.
Whilethecopshuntmedown,she’llisolateeveryonesomeplace.Sagefire,probably,heryuppiewellnessretreatoutsideL.A.Ineedtowarnthem.
IliftStephanie’sphoneoffthebedsidetableandstepoutside.I’veseenhertapinherPINenoughtimestomemorizeit(1223)andIunlockherhomescreenanddon’treadanyoftheeighteenunreadtextsbecauseIrespectherprivacy.ItryDanibutthephonejustrings,samewithMarilyn,Heather’snumberisstillnotbackinservice,andthat’sit.Julia’sstillunconsciousinthehospital,andthenIrealize:Skye.Hewrotedownhisnumber,andIdigoutthatpieceofpaper,andIcall.
“Whathappened?”heasks,pickinguponthefirstring.
“Skye?”Isay.There’salongpause.“It’sLynnetteTarkington.”
“Ifigured,”hewhispers.“Whoelsewouldcallmeatsixforty-fiveinthemorningfromanumberIdon’tknow.Dude,whatdidyoudo?”
“Nothingtheysayaboutmeistrue,”Iwarnhim.
“Theysayyouabductedthatgirl,”hewhispers.“Theysayyoustolesomeretiredcop’scarandbeathimupandlefthimonthesideoftheroad.
Theysayyouescapedcustodyandareafugitivewho’swantedforquestioning.”
“Yeah,well,okay,”Iadmit.“Thosethingsaretruebuteverythingelseisalie.”
“Mymom’ssuperpissed,”hesays.
“Youneedtogostayatafriend’s,”Isay.“Getyourlittlebrotherandgosomeplace.Getoutofyourhouse.”
“Can’t,”hesays.“Mom’stakingeveryoneonaroadtrip.”
“No,”Itellhim.“That’sabadidea.”
“She’sprettypassionateaboutit,”hetellsme.“She’stakingPaxandmeandabunchofpeopleuptoSagefire.Paxlovesitupthere.”
“Whatpeople?”Iask.“Who’sgoing?”
“Look,”hesays.“I’vegottogo.She’sgoingtokillmeifshefindsoutyoucalled.”
HehangsupandwhenIcallbackIgetvoicemail.
It’stoofarbacktoL.A.Sagefireisonlyanhourandahalfoutsidethecity.Wecan’tgetthereintime.IimagineherloadingupMarilynandDaniandHeather,goingtothehospitaltopickupJulia.Gettingthemallaloneatherretreat.Ican’tthinkaboutit.
IcallJulia,becauseeventhoughI’mgoingtogethervoicemailIwanttohearsomeone’svoice.
“Whoisthis?”
Hervoiceisstrongandclear.
“Julia?”Isay.
“Oh,Jesus,”shesays.“Lynnette?”
“Areyouokay?”Iask.
“No,”shesays.“I’mnotokay.Igotshotthreetimesinthelegs.Didyouabductakid?Areyouinsane?”
Ineedtoassesshercondition.
“Doesithurt?”Iask.
“Gettingshotinthelegs?”sheasks.“What,becauseI’mparalyzed?
Youthinkitdoesn’thurt?Here’sanidea,Lynnette.Whydon’tyougogetshotinsomethingyoudon’tuse,likeyourhead,andreportback,okay?
JesusChrist.Dr.Caroltoldmeyou’dhadabreakdown.”
“Haveyouseenher?”Iask.
“She’spickingmeuplater,”Juliasays.“They’redischargingmethismorning.Youwererightaboutonething—weareallindanger.Fromyou.
Dr.Carol’stakingussomewheresafeuntilyou’reincustody.”
“Sagefire,”Isay.
“Well,theregoesthatplan,”Juliasays.“Ican’tbelieveIcametoyouthinkingHeatherhadwrittenthatbookanditwasyou.Andnowyou’vekidnappedachild.IthoughtIknewyou.”
“It’sStephanieFugate,”Itellher.“ThegirlfromtheCampRedLakemassacre.I’mkeepinghersafe.Listen,IsawChrissy—”
“You’rekeepingakidsafeandyoutookhertoseeCrazyChrissy?”
Juliashouts.“Youreallyareoutofyourmind.”
“Julia,”Isay.“Youknowme,soplease,listenforoneminute.HowdidChristopheVolkergetAdrienne’shomeaddress?HowdidheknowhowtosneakintoCampRedLake?WhydidHarryPeterWardenandBillyWalkerbothimplicateDaniandmeatthesametime?Someoneshotyou.Someonetriedtokillmeinjail.Someone’scoordinatingallthisandChrissyknewwho.”
“And?”shesays.
“It’sDr.Carol,”Isay.“I’veseenproof.”
“ProoffromCrazyChrissy?”Juliasays.
“Trustme,”Itellher.
“You’vemadethatanimpossibility,”shesays.
“Thenbesafe,”Isay.“Don’ttrustanyone.I’mbeggingyou.CallMarilynandgethersecurityguystopickyouup,andgetherandDaniandHeatherandjustgoanywhereforforty-eighthours.That’sallI’masking.
Don’ttellmewhereyou’regoing.Don’ttellDr.Carolwhereyou’regoing.
Justgo.We’realivebecausewewerethesmartones.We’retheoneswhodidn’tgointhatbasement.Wedidn’topenthatdoor.Please.”
There’salongsilence.
“Areyoustillthere?”Iask.
“Well,I’mnotgoingtotellyouifI’mdoingitornot,”shesays.
“Right,ofcourse,great,”Isay,andthenIthinkaboutPaxandSkye.
“Wait,beforeyougo,Dr.Carolhastwokids.Seeifthey’llcomewithyou.Imean,they’reherkidsbutIdon’tthinksheshouldbearoundanyonerightnow.NotuntilI’ve…”Factis,Idon’tknowwhatI’mgoingtodo.“NotuntilI’vetalkedtoher.”
“Good-bye,Lynnette,”Juliasays.“Ihatedyourbook.”
Ifeeldrained.Igobackintotheroom,putthephonebackbyStephanie’shead,andI’mdrinkingacupofterriblein-roomteawhenInoticeherlookingatme.Shetouchesherstitches.
“AmIokay?”sheasks.
Theshaftofsunlightcomingthroughthecurtainsisstrongandbrightanddustmotesdancewhereitbisectsherstomach.
“Theysaidyoudidn’thaveaconcussion,”Itellher.“Drinksomewater.”
Stephsitsupinbed,grabsthebottle,andgulpsitdown.
“Yousavedme,”Stephsays,unabletobelieveit.“Yousavedmyass.
HewasgoingtobeatmetodeathwiththatbatandallofasuddeneverythingexplodedandthatTVknockedherblockoff.”
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit,”Isay.
“Shedeservedit,”shesays.
“I’mnotakiller,”Isay,whichisgoingtomakeitveryhardtodealwithDr.Carol.
“That’snotagoodsurvivalinstinct,”Stephsays.
I’mirrationallyangrywithherformakingitsoundsoeasy,butIdon’twanttofight.IopenupmygobagandfocusonliningupwhatIhaveleftonthetable.Leatherman,smallMaglite,lockblade,GPS,twenty-fivefeetofnylonrope,fourpairsofflexi-cuffs,$830incash.
“Ugh,Istink,”Stephsays.Shegetsoutofbedandpaddlestothebathroomonstifffeetanddrinksfromthetap,thenfillsherbottleagainandgulpsitdown.
“Ifit’smeorthem,”shesays,wipingherchin,“it’sgoingtobethem,everytime.That’sallthereistoit.Youbettergetusedtothat.”
“Idon’twanttogetusedtomurder,”Isay.
“Ididn’trealizeyouweresuchableedingheart,”shesays,floppingbackonthebedandadjustingthepillowsbehindher.
My.22isthelastthingItakeoutofmybag.Iputitonthedesk.
“We’llthrowthatoffthefirstbridgewefind,”Isay.
“Hell,no,”Stephaniesays,gettingupandcrossingtheroom.“Noone’smakingmetheirpunkagain.YoumayhavegoneallkumbayabutIstillwantsomestoppingpower.”
Shepicksitupandaimsitatthedoor,holdingittoonesidelikeshe’sseeninthemovies.
“Idon’twanttokillanyoneelse,”Isay.
“Thenleaveittome,”shesaysinavoicethat’stootough,tooconfident.
Shedoesn’tknowwhatmurderreallyis.ButIletherhavethegun.
Eventually,she’lllearnhowuselessitis.
AtthebottomofmygobagisWarGhost,PaxElliott’shomemadecomicbook.Itfeelslikehehustledmeoutofahundreddollarsforittwomonthsago,notsevendaysago.IhopeJuliadoeswhatIasked.Idon’twanttohavetodealwiththoseboyswhenIgoseeDr.CarolupatSagefire.
“We’llheadforL.A.,”Itellher.“Wecanrefillyourprescriptionontheway.”
Iflipthroughthecomicbook.Thedrawingsareaboutwhatyou’dexpect:amateurishandhorrible.IcanbarelytellwhatI’mlookingat.
“Idon’tthinkthecarcanmakeit,”Stephsays.“Wemayhavetorentone.Doyouhaveacreditcard?”
I’mlookingatapageinthecomic,andIcan’tanswer.Anoversizedfigurewithhismouthwideopen,fullofjaggedteeth,andXsforeyes,hassunkhistalonsintoalionandisrippingitsheadoff.Redscribblesareeverywhere.Awide-openmouthisasignofsexualabuse;clawsforhandsrepresentpossibleviolence,asdoestheoversizedbodyinrelationtothesmallchildheloomsover.Overuseofonecolormaybeasignofemotionalimbalance.SoaretheXsforeyes,andthefangs.Butit’swhat’swrittenonthemonster’schestthattakesmybreathaway.
Sky.
“Ifyouhaveacreditcardwe’lljustrentacar,right?”Stephanierepeats.
SkyManissoevulhetearstheheadoffcats,thecaptionreads.Bigcats,littlecats,ourcats,neighborhoodcats.SkyManhatescats.
Myhandsgonumb.
“Areyoulisteningtome?”Stephasks.“Yousaythisissourgent,solet’sgetbacktoL.A.Butwehavetorentacar.”
Ipagebackwithtremblingfingersandreadfromthebeginning.PageafterpagefeaturesamonstrousSkyManloomingoverPX-1,atinyrobotwhocowersfromhisrage.
SkyMancanshootagunrealfast,thecaptionreads.
“Icanshootthroughabuildingfromacrossthestreet,”SkyManbragsinawordballoon,holdingariflewithascope.“IkillalltheLastLadies!”
SkyManisburningdownabuilding.
“Takethat,DreamKing!”heshouts.
SkyManwillkilltheMeanGirls,thecaptionreadsoverapictureofSkyManchoppingofftheheadsofsixwomen.Oneisinawheelchair.
Crayonbloodfountainsfromtheirnecks.Sixnecks.Therearesixofthem.
Sixfinalgirls.
“Areyoutotallyspacedout?”Stephanieasks.“Hello?”
SkyMansaysthatwhenheisfinished,thecaptionreads,wewillbetheonlypeopleleftintheworldandalltheenemieswillbedeaded.SkyManwillkillthemalltheenemies!Thenmommywillcomehomeagain!
SkyMan.SkyeElliott.
IthinkaboutChrissygettinganemailfromDr.Carol’saccount.
IrememberstandinginSkye’sroomandhimsaying,Isetupalltheemailserversformymom’sbusiness
Dr.Carol’sson.Herhomeoffice.Hercomputer.Howhegotmybook.
Howhesawhernotes.Howheknewallaboutus.Howhegotustodohisworkforhim.Themonsteriscomingfrominsidethehouse.
Idropthecomicintomybag.
“Weneedtogo,”ItellStephanie.“Grabyourphone,getyourstuff,weneedtogettoL.A.We’llcallJuliaontheway.”
Wecallherfourteentimesbeforewereachthestateline.Shedoesn’tpickuponce.
—transcriptofSanDiegoPDofficersDwightRileyandJudyHicksinterviewingmultiplehomicidesurvivorJuliaCampbell,October23,1992THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXX:
TheFinalChapter
Weflythroughtheprairie.
WetooktheChevytoabodyshopandpaidtheguymylasteighthundreddollarsfornewbumpersandawindshield.Imakehimgivemealoanerforthedayit’lltaketodothework.
“Keepherundersixty-fiveanddon’tgoonthehighway,”hetellsme.
“Absolutely,”Itellhim.
WehitthehighwayandIkeepitateighty-fivealltheway.
Juliawon’tpickup.NeitherwillDani,andHeather’sphoneremainsoutofservice.MarilynhasblockedStephanie’snumber.They’veallturnedtheirbacksonmebecausetheythinkIsleptwithmymonster,becausetheyreadmybook,becausetheythinkI’mcrazy.MyonlyproofcomesfromChrissyandamessed-upchild’scomicbook.They’llneverbelieveme.
Ipressthegaspedaldown.Thecar’sframeshakesominously.
Stephanieramblesfortheentiredrive.
“Everyonethinksthewolvesintheparkaredangerous,”StephsaysaswepassasignforYellowstone.“Butit’sthebisonthatattackpeopleallthetime.”
Stephanietalkslikesheneedstoremindherselfshe’salive.WhathappenedinChrissy’shousemusthaveshakenhermorethanIthought.Shereadsbillboardsoutloud.Shestatesheropiniononthedriversofothercars.
Idon’tanswer.IneedtogettoCalifornia.
Wetakeroute30tocirclewidearoundSaltLakeCity,headingtowardWellson80.There’snowayI’mgoinganywherenearAmericanFork,evenifitisfaster.
Wedon’tstopincities.Therearetoomanypeopleincities.WedrivethroughanAmericamadeoffour-lanehighwaysandlinedwithreststops.
Citiesarebillboardclustersbisectedbyoff-rampsandmergelanes.
BruisesandscratchescoverStephanie’sarmsandface.IwonderwhenIcancutthestitchesoutofherhead.Shestopscallingherparents.Idon’tnoticeuntiltenhourshavepassed.
“Yougaveup?”Iask.
“Whatdotheyhavetosay?”sheasks.“Thepolicearealreadyafterus.
Imean,we’reprobablybothgoingtojail.Whereareweevenheaded?”
Mybodyvibratesinsidemyskin.AretheywithDr.CarolordidJulialistenandgetthemsomewheresafe?DidshegetSkyetogowithher?AretheyatSagefire?Idon’tevenknowwherewe’regoing.
Sometimesyoudon’tknowwhyyou’redoinganythinganymoresoyoujustkeepmovingeventhoughyou’reoutofoptions.
“Weneedtostop,”Stephaniesays.
“Nostopping,”Isay.
“Ihavetopee,”shesays.
“Goinacup,”Isay.Thebackisfullofemptycoffeecups.I’msocaffeinatedmyeyeballsvibrateinsidetheirsockets.
“I’mnotpeeinginacup,”Stephsays.“Youpeeinacup.”
“IwillwhenIhaveto,”Isay.“You’llholdthewheel.”
“Gross,”shesays,crossingherarmsandlookingoutthepassenger-sidewindow
Theloaner’sheaterisstuckandhotairblastsusbothinthefacetheentireway.
“I’mbroiling,”Stephaniesays,andIdon’tdisagree.Myfeetfeelhotandsweaty.“I’mactuallycookingalive.”
Wedrivethroughanightsoblackthatifweturnedofftheheadlightstheplanetwoulddisappear.
Wefillthebackseatwithfast-foodwrappers.Acouplehundredmilesagowehadatrashbag,butatacertainpointtheentirebackseatofthecarbecameatrashbag.
ItellheraboutSkye.Itellherthathe’stheonedoingthekilling.Itellherweneedtostophim,butIdon’tknowhow.Ican’thurthim,butnoonewillbelievemenomatterwhatIsay.I’moutofideas.Myplanshavereachedtheirlimits.I’mjustmotionnow.
“Callhim,”shesays.
“Wecan’t,”Isay.“We’llloseouradvantage.”
“Whatadvantage?”sheasks.“Ifyouthinkhe’sgoingtokilleveryone,callhim.”
We’repastRenoon80now;allthatremainsisastraightshotouttothecoast,thensouth.IcallhimonSteph’sphone.Ihaveahardtimehittingtherightkeys.Ihesitatebeforeputtingituptomyear,andthenIcommit.
It’sringing,thengoestovoicemail.
“Skye,”Isay.“It’sLynnette.I…we…whereare…willyoucallmeback?”
Ihangup.
“Thatwasagoodmessage,”Stephsays.“I’ddefinitelycallyouback.Itsoundslikeyou’reaskinghimoutonadate.”
I’mcrashinghardandtheenginekeepslullingmetosleep,myheadsnappingbackandthenforward.
“Youknowhowthishastoend,”Stephsaysfromthepassengerseat.
“Ifthatguy’stheonedoingit,wekillhim.”
“Therehastobeanotherway,”Isay.“MaybeIcantalktohim.Wecanalljustgoourseparatewaysand,and,andjustleaveeachotheralone.Noonehastodie.Wecanhaveahappyendinghere.”
IknowI’mbabbling.Everywordoutofmymouthsoundslessconvincingthantheonebefore.She’saguidedmissilelockedontohertarget,andI’maphilosophystudentfailingheroralexam.
“Figureoutwherewe’regoing,”shesaysasTacoTimefranchisesgivewaytoTenderGreens.“That’sallweneedtodo.”
“How?”Iask,andIrealizeIcan’tletherknowI’mlost.Ican’tletherknowI’mpanicking.“Noone’stalkingtome!Idon’tknowwhotocall!”
TheglowofSacramentoisstainingthehorizonorangebythetimeImakethecallI’vebeendreading.
“Who’reyoudialing?”Stephasksfromthepassengerseat.
“Garrett,”Isay.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoingthatfor?”sheasks.Ilookdowntohitsend.Thetiresveer.Stephyelps.“JesusFUCK!”
Idropthephoneandkeepthecarontheroad.Theheaterkeepsblastingmeintheface.I’vesweatedthroughthisT-shirtsomanytimesit’sgray.
Thecarsmellsliketheloadofgarbagewe’recarryinginback.IdigStephanie’sphoneoutofmycrotch.
“Thinkaboutit,”Stephsays.“Why’reyoucallinghim?”
“He’llhelpme,”Isay.
Quickasasnake,shesnatchesherphoneaway.Notthinking,Igrabforit.ShehastheadvantagebecausemorningtrafficispickingupandIcan’ttakemyeyesofftheroad.
“Stophittingme,”shesnarls.“I’mdoingyouafavor.He’sgoingtogetyouarrestedthesecondyoucallfromthisphone.”
“Garrettisstraightwithme,”Isay.
“Youstolehiscar,”shesays.“Youabandonedhimonthesideoftheroad.Alltheothercopsthinkyouescapedcustody.Youkidnappedme.”
“I’llchanceit,”Isay.
“Notwithmeinthecar,”shesays.“HetakesmehomeandmyparentswilllockmeinthehouseandthenI’masittingduck.Ifthiskid’scomingforyou,he’scomingformenow,too.He’ll…havetogothroughmyfamily.”
Hervoicehitches.Shecan’tbringherselftosay“killherfamily”
becauseit’stoougly.Itakedeepbreaths.Someoneelsereliesonmenow.Ihavetothinkabouther.
“Okay,”Isay.“Iwon’tcallhim.”
“What’sheevengoingtosay?”Stephasks.“Yousawsomekid’scomicbookandareconvincedyourtherapist’ssonisaserialkiller?Doyouknowwhatthatsoundslike?”
SignsforSanFranciscotrytolureuswest,awayfromourpath.
“Iknowhowtospotthatkindofthing,”Isay.“Theviolentimagery,thetriangularteeth.Thedialoguewasn’tanythingakidcouldcomeup
with.Itwastoospecific.Yousawthebook.”
“Isawabunchoflittle-kiddrawings,”shesays.
“Ithastobehim,”Isay,andIsoundlikeIdidwhenIthoughtitwasDr.Carol.
Doesthiseverend?Willtherealwaysbesomeoneoutthereturninglittleboysintomonsters?Willwealwaysbefinalgirls?Willtherealwaysbemonsterskillingus?Howdowestopthesnakefromeatingitsowntail?
Stephlooksoutthewindow.
“There’sareststopcomingup,”shesays.
“We’refourhoursfromL.A.,”Isay.
“Sowhat?”shepracticallyscreams.We’restartingtoworkeachother’snerves.Wehaven’thadanysleep.We’vebeenfifteenhoursinthecarwithoutabreak.Iwanttotearmyfaceoff.“Noonewilleventalktoyou.
Theywon’ttakeyourcalls.Whereareweevengoing?”
“Idon’tknow!”Isay.It’sthefirsttimeI’veadmittedit,andnowthatit’soutIdoubledown.“Idon’tknow!Butwehavetodosomething!Wehavetogosomewhere!Wecan’tlethimkillus!Notagain!Notlikethis!
NotwhileIcanactuallysaveeveryonethistime.”
Stephkicksthedashboardwithbothfeet.
“Iwantoutofthiscar,”shesays.“Pulloveratthereststop.”
“Why?”Iask,suddenlyscaredI’vepushedhertoofar.
“BecauseIhavetopeeandI’mnotgoinginafuckingcup!”sheyells.
Ifindaparkingspaceandwebothgetoutofthecarandwalkawayfromeachother.Istandonamedianofyellowedgrasscarpetedincigarettebutts.Howmanyoftheseweresmokedbymenontheprowlforhitchhikers?Howmanywerebuttedoutbyrunawaykidsbeforetheyhitchedtheirfinalridewiththewrongdriver?IbreatheintheexhaustandstaleoilstinkuntilI’mcalmagain,thengobacktothecarandbegincleaningoutthebackseat.
IglanceupandseeStephtalkingonhercellphone,walkingtowardme.Thebackseatisfullofpapercupssloshingwithmeltedice,congealedfries,greasysandwichwrappers,triangularcardboardboxesfortheSbarroslicesthatStephloves.
“Okay,”shesays.“Iloveyoutoo.”
Shehangsupandstandslookingdownatmeforasecondbeforeshesmilesandsaysinasoftvoice:
“Here,letmedumpthosecups.”
Workingtogetherweunearththebackseatandrevealthecarpet.It’sstainedandstinksofcoldgrease,butatleastit’snotarollinggarbagedumpanymore.
“Italkedtomyparents,”shesays.“ToldthemthatIwascominghome.
ThatI’dseethemsoon.Theyseemedcalmer.Iguess?”
“Doyouwanttogohome?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.
“WhendoIfeellikemyselfagain?”sheblurtsout.“Howlongdoesittake?”
IthinkaboutGarrettandallthewomeningroupandhowtheyalltreatmelikeI’mcrazy.Maybethey’reright.
HowdidIwinduptrappedinsidethislife?WheredidIgowrong?TheWalkerspunchedmyticketatsixteen,andeversincetheneverythinghasbeenleadingmehere.Abandoned,broken,uselessateverythingexceptbeingscaredandstayingalive.
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“ButifIeverfeelthatway,I’llletyouknow.”
“Oh,”shesays.
SuddenlyStephlooksverysmallandcoldandvulnerable.Istandup,takeadeepbreath,andgiveherahug.Ithasallthewarmthofrubbingtwobrickstogether.Herhairsmellsfilthy.There’snogive,noyield,nosoftnessineitherofus.Iendthehugandamfilledwithasenseofhavingdonetherightthing.Maybethisiswhatmakesalife?Responsibilities,obligations,whowetieourselvesto?Maybethat’swhatI’vebeenmissing?
“We’regoingtobeinL.A.soon,”Stephsays.“What’stheplan?”
Iaminsaneandstupid,butthisgirlreliesonme.She’sjustakid.Ishouldsendherhome.Ishouldgomyownway,keepdriving,maybeuptoCanada,nevercomeback,breakuptheband.ButIcan’t.Eveniftheyhateme,Ican’twalkawayfrommyobligations.Thismoviethatismylifehastoend.Itcan’tkeepgoingonlikethisforever.Iwon’tletSkyedie.Iwon’t
letthiskeepchewingupmoreandmorepeople.Iwon’tletmessed-upparentskeepmakingmonsters,andIwon’tlettheseboyskeepmakingmorefinalgirls.It’snotsomeprofoundandancientritual.It’sjustawasteofalife.
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Idon’tknowwhereanyoneis.Idon’tknowifthey’rewithJulia,orDr.Carol,oratSagefire,orwithSkye.Idon’tknowanything,Stephanie.”
“Whydon’twegotoDani’s?”shesays.
“Dani?”Iask.
“Wherevereveryoneis,she’llknow,”shesays.“Andnomatterwheretheyare,Dani’llbeatherranch,almostdefinitely.Yousaidshe’sstubbornandsuicidal,right?Wefindher,talktoher,findoutwhereeveryoneis,maybeconvincehertocomewithustoatleastcheckSkyeout,andtheotherswilllisten.EveryonerespectsDani.”
She’stalkinglikesheknowsus,andthenIrealizethatshedoes.We’reallfinalgirlsnow.
“Yeah,”Isay,andthenIhavetoadmit,“I’mnotreallysurewhereherranchis.”
“I’llfindit,”shesays.“Sherunsahorserescueplaceforabusedponies?Icanlookituponmyphone.BigSkyHavenRanch.”
“Youknowthename?”Iask.
Shechecksoutthetoesofhersneakers.
“Iwaskindofasuperfan,”shesays.“OfDani,notyou.I’msorry.”
Ofcourse.Itallmakesperfectsense.Danialwaysknowswhattodo.
Wegetheronoursideandeverythingwillbeallright.
“Younavigate,”Isay.“I’lldrive.”
“You’retheboss,”shesays.
It’stimeforthistoend.AfterStephanie,therewillbenomorefinalgirls.
—“TheDreamKingConspiracy”byBlazeSullivan,Fangoria,March2003THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXXI:TheFinalChapterII
Thefirstsignoftroubleisthesign.
Dani’sranchisnearElizabethLake,twentymilesoutsideL.A.inthoseflatlittlehillsthatalwayslookliketheyneedabath.Grubbyhumpswithdust-coatedtreescloggingtheirfolds.It’salightbrownworldcoveredwithscrub.
Ittakesusanhourtofindtherightroad,andhalfanhourtofindthelittledirttrackthatleadsfromtheroadontoDani’sranch.Outhereinthecountrynoonethinkstoputupstreetsignsorhousenumbers.Ifyouhavetoask,youdon’tbelong.Ihatethecountry.
I’mdoingfifteenmilesanhourwhenweseethegate.
“Dowejustopenit?”Stephasks,lookingupfromthemaponherphone.
There’saditchoneitherside.
“Ican’tdrivearoundit,”Isay.
Theengineidles.Iscrutinizethegate.Thechainiswrappedlooselyaroundthepostfiveorsixtimestoholditshut.Thisiswhereyougetoutofyourcarandthemonsterrisesupoutoftheditch,wherehishandshootsupoutofthesandandgrabsyourankle.
Nervously,Stephgetsout.Ilockthedoorsafterher.Iwatchtheditch,Iwatchthesand,Icheckmymirrors.Shereachesthepost,stops,andturnsbacktothecar.Shepointstotheground.Ipantomime-shrugatherthroughthewindshield.Shebendsdownandliftsoneendofanunpaintedboard.
It’soldandsomeonehascarvedlettersintoitandfilledthemwithwhitepaint:
BIGSKYHAVENRESCUERANCH
NowthatIseeit,Ialsoseethepostitwasnailedto.There’srawyellowwoodsnaggedonthenailslikeitwasrecentlyrippeddown.Daniwouldneverdothat.DanithrowsoutHeather’scoffeecups.Daniusesalintbrushonherflannelshirts.Danipicksupleavesfromtheparkinglotandtossesthembackintothebusheswhenshewalkstohertruck.
Stephdropstheboard,unwrapsthechain,pushesopenthegate.
“Getin,”Icalloutmywindow.“Weneedtogettoherhouse.”
Ican’ttakethecaroverfifteenwithoutfeelinglikeI’mabouttocrackthesuspension,sowecreepuptheroadtooslow,leavingthegateyawningopenbehindus.Thenweseethesmoke.
“Peopleburningleaves?”Stephasks.
Acolumnofblacksmokerisesupthroughthestandofeucalyptustreesaheadofus.Thecarcrawls,andsweatpoursdownmysides,strokingitsghostfingersovermyclammyskin.
Wedriveintothetreesandcometothehouse.It’saneatlittlefarmhouseinaclearingsurroundedbyasplitrailfencewithabigcircularparkingareaoutfrontandawaterpumpinthemiddle.Dunesofwildflowersswayaroundthepump.Thesoilbeneaththemisdarkblack,moistandnew.TheflowersMichellewantedtoseebeforeshedied.
Againstallthisbrowndusttheystandoutlikefireworks.
Thehouseistuckedbackintheeleveno’clockpositiononthecirculardrive.Totheright,ataboutthreeo’clock,apathleadstoastable.Dani’strucksitsinthedriveandthefrontdoortotheranchhousestandsopen.
Neitherofuscantakeoureyesoffthebonfirethat’sburninginthemiddleoftheparkingarea.Woodendiningroomchairsarepiledup,andweakorangeflameslicktheirlegsinthesun.Aheapofblackenedbookssmoldersbeneaththem,andafewcharredmagazinesblowaroundinthedirt.
Wegotheretoolate.
“DoyouseeSkye’scar?”Iask.
“Idon’tknowwhatSkye’scarlookslike,”Stephsays,pullingoutthe
.22.
Shechecksthechamberlikeapro.Ishouldhavere-armedmyself.
“Idoubthe’sstillhere,”Isay.“Butlet’scheck.”
Westepoutintothehotbreeze.Ilookinsidethetrunk.There’sacut-ratejackmadeofpressedaluminuminagreasycardboardbox.It’sbarelybetterthannothing.Iletitdangleinmyrighthand,andthetwoofusapproachthehouse,instinctivelycirclingfromoppositesides.
There’smovementinside,andIplantmylegsandtense.Stephsnapsherattentiontothefrontdoorandraisesthe.22inbothhands.Goodgirl.Afigurecomesouthaulinganenormousrolled-upcarpet.Itstompsacrosstheyard,carpetdraggingbehinditlikeadinosaurtail,andIrecognizethesquareshoulders,thesolidshape,thelackofcurves.Danilooksuptomakesureshe’sstillheadingtowardthebonfireandseesus,wipesthesweatfromherface,thenputsherheaddownandkeepsstormingtowardtheflames.
“Dani?”Icall.
Shedropstherolled-upcarpetonthegroundnexttothebonfireandcatchesherbreath.EvenfromthirtyfeetawayIcanfeeltheheatchappingmyface.
“Dani?”Itryagain.
Shebendsoverandpicksupthecarpetbythemiddle,thenhaulsitupandshovesitforwardinonelunge.Ittopplesthestackofburningchairsandtheyhitthegroundinfrontofme,givingoffgreatbigtumbleweedsofpalesparksinthesunlight.Onebitesthebackofmyhand.
“Dani,”Isay.“Whathappened?”
Shestops,halfwaythroughtheturntogobacktoherhouse.HerhanddropstotheGlockholsteredonherthighwhensheseesStephcomingfromtheotherdirection.
“That’sStephanie,”Isaytoher.“CampRedLake.She’stheonewhometChristopheVolker.”
Danistepsbacksoshecankeepbothofusinherfieldofvision.
“Whatdoyouwant?”sheasks.
“Someoneknockeddownyoursign,”Isay.
“It’sallgottago,”shesays.
Thensheslumps,takesherhandoffherpistol,andtrudgesbacktoherfrontdoor.Stephaniegivesmeaquestioninglook,gunlowering,andIshrug.Halfwaytoherfrontdoor,Danireversescourseandsteamsbackatme,fistsballedathersides.
“What’s—”isasfarasIgetbeforeshepunchesmeinthestomach.
Idoubleover,handsonmyknees,andthrowuponmyshoes,thejackclankingintothedust.Danistandsinfrontofme,notmovingasIcoughupbile,andthenIforcemyselfuprightandsheslapsmeacrosstheface.Myheadcomesoffmyneck.ShegivesmeanothershottothestomachandIfallonmykneesinmyownmess.
“No,Steph!”Isay,holdinguponehandtostopherfromcomingatDani.
Itdoesn’thelp;she’sfeelingprotective.
“Hey,”Stephaniesqueaks.“Handsoff.”
Danidoesn’teventurnherhead,juststraight-armsStephanieinthechest,sendingherbackward,armswindmilling,flingingthe.22awayinabigarc,beforegoingdownhardonherbutt.
ItrytogettomyfeetandDaniwindsuponelegandplantsthetoeofherbootdeepinmystomach.Istaydown.
“Youwrotethatbook,”shesays,standingoverme.“Thatgoddamnbook.Whatthehellwasgoingthroughyourheadtowritetrashlikethat?
YouthinkI’minacodependentrelationshipwithmyMichelle?Myeverything?Iusehertoisolatemyselffromgroup?Youthinkthat?”
Shekicksmeagain.I’mnotfightingback.Irestmyswollencheekinthedirt.Ideservethis.Herhandsgrabmycollarandsheyanksmetomyfeet.Ihearmyshirtrip.Icanseehergrayeyes.Herpupilsarepinpricks.
“Youthinkmyguiltoverkillingmybrotherhaseatenmealive?”shedemands,andslapsme.“It’smademe‘politicallyderanged’?”Sheslapsmeagain.“YouthinkIkeepMichelleinmyshadow?”
Anotherslap.Icantastebloodinmymouth.
“I’msorry,”Isaythroughswellinglips,wetnesstricklingdownmychin.“Inevermeantforanyonetoseeit.IdideverythingIcouldtoget
Michellebackheretodie.”
“Don’tsayhername,”shesnarls,pushingherleatheryfaceintomine.
“Youdon’tgettosayhername.”
Sheslapsmeagain,andthenthere’smovementatherside.Stephhasthe.22andiscomingback,holdingitattheendofoneoutstretchedarm.
DanidropsmeonthegroundlikeabagofgarbageandgrabsSteph’swrist,twistsit,thenkicksherfeetoutfromunderher.ShedrawsherGlockandaimsatthebackofStephanie’sneck.Ineedtostopthis.Now.FromthegroundIshowDanimyhands.
“Itwasmyjournal,itwasprivate,theguystoleitoffmycomputer,”Isay.“Thesameguywho’sbeenmanipulatingallofus.HegotVolkertoattackStephanieandkillAdrienne.HeburneddownHeather’shalfwayhouse.HeshotJulia.HepaidHarryPeterWardentotellthecopshecommittedNick’skillings.He’stheonewhotriedtomakeyouthinkyoukilledyourbrotherfornoreason,Dani.IsawChrissy.Shetoldmeallofit.
HecommunicatedwithWalkerincode.He’stryingtodiscreditusinpublic,andthenhe’sgoingtopickusoffonebyone.”
Danicocksherheadlikeshe’sconsideringmytheory.Stephstartspushingherselfupfromtheground,readytocomeatheragain.Thetwoofthemlockeyes.DaniadjuststhegriponherGlock.
“Ah,whocares?”Danisays,breakinghergaze,spinningononeheel,stompingbackintoherhouse,holsteringherpistol,andleavingStephandmeinthedirt
“Ithoughtyouwerementallyill,”Stephsays.“Butshe’sseriouslycrazy.”
Thecarpetsmokesonthepile,sendingoutgreasyblackbillowsofsoot.
Itsmellslikechemicals.
“Vikingfuneral,”Isay,sittingup.
Ispitoutamouthfulofblood.Asidefrombruises,Idon’tthinkshedidanypermanentdamage.
“Sheneedstogethershittogether,”Stephgrumbles.“Thisismoreseriousthanhergirlfriend.”
“Notforher,”Isay.
Danistaggersoutthefrontdoorofherhouse,draggingamattress.It’shugeandfloppyandgetsstuckinthedoorway.Shepunchesandkicksit,haulsitout,thendragsitthroughthedusttous.Whenshereachesthesmokingbonfiresheletsitdrop.Ashesblastoutinacloudandinstantlysuffocatetheflames.Coldsmokeunrollsintothebluesky.
“Shit,”shesays,wipingatie-dyedbandanaacrosshergrimyforehead.
“Willyoutalktome,Dani?”Iask,standing.Ican’tunbendalltheway.
“Idon’tknowifyouknowwhat’sgoingon,butthingsarereallybad.WeneedtoknowwhereJuliatookeveryone.”
Shelooksatmelikeitdoesn’tmatterwhoIam.
“Herglassofwater’sgone,”shesays.“Theonebyhersideofthebed.
Itwasthelastthingherlipstouched.Shedrankhalfandeverydaysinceshe’sbeengonethewaterlevel’sbeengettinglowerandlower,andIknewwhatwasgoingtohappenbutaslongastherewasevenabitleftitwasn’thappening.ThenyesterdayIlookedanditwasdry.Itusedtobeherglassofwaterandnowit’sjustanemptyglass.There’snothingleft,Lynne.It’sallgone.”
Herfacegoesslack.Hereyesarelifeless.I’veneverfeltthewayshedoesaboutanyone.
“Idon’twanttobehereanymorewithouther,”shesays.“Ican’tbealoneagain.Ican’t.”
Sheturnsandheadstothebarn,leavingStephandmestrandedinherwake.
“Can’tyougethertolistentoyou?”Stephasks.
Danicomesoutofthebarnwithayellowandredgascanbangingagainstonethigh.Shestandsontheedgeofthedeadbonfire,unscrewsthecap,dousesthemattress,shakesoutthelastfewdrops,tossesthecan,thenpullsapackofmatchesfromherbreastpocket,lightsthemallandflicksthepackontothemattress
FWOOMP!
Itgoesupinafireball,andthereekofhotgasolineblastsmyface.Ifeelmynosehairscrisp.StephandIlimpbackwardafewstepsbutDanidoesn’tmove.Herfaceshinesbeetredintheblast-furnaceheat.
ImotionforStephtostaywheresheisandIcirclearoundtoDani,who’sbaskinginherdestruction.
“Ineverwantedtohurtyou,”Isay.“Idon’twanttohurtanybody.”
“WhentheyfoundMichelle’sbody,someoldwinowastryingtokissher,”Danisays.
“ThatwasprobablyCarlDeWolfeJr.”
“Huh,”shesays,andthere’salongsilence.“Atleastshewasoutside.
Shewouldn’twanttodieindoors.Butwhensheneededmemost,Iwasn’tthere.”
“BecauseofSkye,”Isay.“Dr.Carol’sson.He’sorganizedthisentirething.He’sinsane.He’splayingusall.”
“IonlywantedtobethereforMichelle,”Danisays,desolate.“That’sallIeverwanted.”
She’snothearingme.Webothstandthere,watchingherfurnitureburn.
Stephstaresatusthroughtheheatshimmerfromtheothersideofthebonfire.
“Dr.Carol’ssonisdangerous,”Isay.“Youhavetobelieveme.Andnowhe’swithJuliaandMarilynandHeather,andIdon’tknowwheretheyare.Wehavetofindthem.”
“They’reatRedLake,”Danisays.
Ofcourse.
AdrienneboughtCampRedLakebecausesheknewtheproblemwithsurvivors.Theydetachfromotherpeople,theywithdraw,theyrelyonroutinesratherthanactualhealingtogivetheappearanceofstability.Theygonumb.
Theironyisnotlostonme.
Wetendtodie,womenwho’vebeenthroughthefire.Sometimeswechooseobviousways,suicideandoverdoses;sometimeswe’remoresubtle,marryingsomeonewholikestousehisfists,orwedrinktoomuchandkeepgettingbehindthewheeluntilwerunoutofluck.
Adriennesawtheproblemandsoshecreatedasolution.ShereopenedCampRedLakewithhermoviemoneyandtriedtosaveusall.Therapistssplitcampersintoteams,andtheystickwitheachotherfortheirentirestay,
theydotheirtherapiestogether,theyareheldaccountabletoeachother,takeresponsibilityforeachother.Noonefinishesaraceorwinsagameuntiltheentireteamcrossesthefinishline.Theofficialliteraturecallsthemteamsandteammates.Theycallthemselvesfamily.TheycallthemselvesSisters.
Adrienne’sfollow-upshowsthatmorethansixtypercentofthesefamilieslast,thatSistersstayintouchwitheachotherforyears,thattheymovetobeclosertoeachother,thattheystayineachother’slives.Thattheyrescueeachother.ThefirstfamiliesleftRedLakein1991.Thewomeninthemarearoundthirty-sixyearsoldtoday.Twoofthemaremarried.SixofthemworkatRedLake.Allofthemmadeit.Noneofthemdied.
Adriennesavedtheirlives.
“Comewithme?”IaskDani.“Please?”
Iknowwhat’llhappenifItakeStephandleave.WhenDanirunsoutofthingstoburnshe’llkneelnexttothisbonfire,facethehills,takeherGlock,andgobewithMichelle.Ihavetosavesomeone.
Shekeepsstaringintothefire.
“MarilynandHeatherandJuliaareindanger,”Isay.“You’vealwayskeptussafe.Weneedyounow.Onelasttime.”
Whenshetalksagain,hervoiceisverysmall.
“I’mdone,”shesays.
Herbackslouches,hershouldersslump,hereyelidsdroop,thecornersofhermouthsag.Ican’ttellifshe’ssweatingorcryingorboth.
“Please,Dani,”Isay.
Ifweleave,she’llputthatguninhermouth.EverywhereIgotherearefinalgirlsdying.I’msickofit.
Danishakesherhead.
“Ican’tdothisalone,”Isay.“I’vebeentryingitthatwayallmylifeandithasn’tworkedoutsogood.Ineedyou,Dani.Oneisnoneandtwoisone,isn’tthatwhatyoutaughtme?”
Afteraminuteshestopsswayingandlooksatme.
“Letmetakecareofsomething,”shesays.
ShewalkstowardherbarnandIreturntoStephanie.
“She’scoming,”Isay.“Shejusthastolockup.”
“Great,”Stephaniesays.“Um,what’sshedoing?”
Daniiswalkingintothebarn,unholsteringherGlockasshedisappearsintoshadows.Afewminuteslatersixhorsestrotout,riderlessandunsaddled,glossyintheafternoonsun.Theysmellthefireandshyaway,millinginanervouscircle,tryingtoduckbackinside.Daniblockstheirway,raisingherGlock,andthere’sadryslapasshefiresintothedirtbetweentheirhooves.
Mystomachjumps;eachgunshotpunchesmeintheheartassheemptiesherclipintotheground,intotheair,sendingthehorsesbreakingintomotion,gallopingaway,eyeswidewithterror,foamingatthemouths.
“Theystandabetterchanceontheirown,”shesays,andthat’swhenIrealizeshedoesn’tplanoncomingback.
Theloanerisalmostoutofgas,sowepileintoDani’struck.It’sgotfourseats.Itakeshotgun.StephsitsinthebackbehindDani.
“YouknowhowtogettoRedLake?”Iask.
“Since1991,”shesays.
Theengineroars,shedropshertruckintogear,andwebouncedowntheroadawayfromtheranch.IturnbackinmyseatandseeStephlookingworried.BehindherIseeadustcloudfromthehorsesastheydisappearintothehillsandthesmokefromthebonfirerisingupintotheclearbluesky.
—Dr.PhilipDeckerinterviewwithmultiplehomicidesurvivorDanielleShipman,November8,1980THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXXII:TheFinalNightmare
Danibarelytalksonthethree-hourdrive,butImanagetoprythestoryoutofher.Juliacalledyesterday,toldherthatsheandHeatherwereheadingtoRedLakeinoneofMarilyn’sbigarmoredSUVs.Theycouldpickherupormeetherthere.Shetoldthemnottowait.
“WhataboutSkye?”Iask.
“Theyhadabigfightwithhismom,”Danisays,shiftinglanestopassaslow-movingSubaru.“Toldhertheyhadasafelocationbutcouldn’ttellherwhereitwas.Toldherthekidscouldcomebutshecouldn’t.Madeupastoryaboutkeepingpeoplespreadout.Shetoldthemherkidsweren’tgoinganywherewithouther.Shecouldn’tstoptheolderonefromleaving,though.
Herlittleonestayedbehind.”
“That’ssomething,”Isay.
Othercarsarepassingus.IfIwereinthedriver’sseatI’dhaveitfloored,we’dbeflying,we’dbescreamingforthtorescueourpeople,butDanidriveslikeshe’sonherwaytopickupsomehay.IwrotedownJulia’s,Marilyn’s,andHeather’snumbersandgavethemtoStephanie.She’sbeencallingsincewelefttheranch.
“Anyluck?”Iask,lookingintheback.
She’shunchedoverhercellphone,textingaway.
“Keepsgoingtovoicemail,”shesays.“I’vetriedtextingbutnoneofthemshowasbeingread.Irequestedadeliveryreportbutitdoesn’tlooklikethey’regoingthrough.”
“Istherealandlineatthecamp?”Iask.
“Googledit,called,gotvoicemail,”Stephsays.
IreallywantDanitosteponit.Hemayhavealreadystarted,althoughit’sstilllightout.Mostmonsterswaituntildark.
“Weneedaplan,”Isay.“Sowedon’tfallallovereachotherliketheThreeStooges.Youwanttotrytoputsomethingtogether?”
“Nope,”Danisays.
Andthat’sprettymuchthat.IwanttopressmyfootdownoverhersonthegaspedalbutIhavetogetonDani’swavelengthifthisisgoingtowork.
SoIwait.
Twentymileslatersheasksmethebigquestion.
“What’reyouproposingtodowithDr.Carol’sboy?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Idon’twanttohurthim.Idon’twantanyoneelsetogethurt.I’msickofpeopledying.”
“Beforesunrisetomorrow,peoplearegoingtodie,”Danisays.“Prettysureofthat.”
It’ssocowboyIalmostlaugh,butIdon’tbecauseinmygutIknowshe’sright.Shealwaysis.
WehittrafficoutsideBakersfield,andbythetimewe’reheadedupintothemountainsit’slateafternoon.We’veallbeenlulledintoastuporbythelongdrive,andasthetruckstartstowinduptheswitchbacksIfeeltheadrenalinedrainingoutofmyveins.I’mfeelingwrungout.
“There,”Stephsays.“Isthatit?”
UpaheadweseethesignforCampRedLake,andDanislows.It’ssmallanddiscreetonthesideoftheroad,thewayAdriennewanted,justyellowpaintondarkredboardsspellingoutCampRedLake.DanirotatesthewheelandthetrucksplitsofftheroadandglidesontotheblacktopleadingupthehillwhereRedLakelies.Thecountyisn’tresponsibleforthisroad,RedLakeis,andit’spavedwithseamlessblackasphaltsonewitsparkles.
Halfwayupthemountain,shadowsgettinglong,RedLakeupaboveus,Danitakesaturnoff.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Stephasks.
“Gottapiss,”Danisays.“Bettergetitoverwithbeforewegetthere.
Gottagetthegunsoutoftheback,too.”
Sheparksinapull-overthatlooksoutoverthevalley.There’sapicnictablewithanemptyDietCokecanonit,ascenicviewsign,arunningpathheadingoffintothebrush.It’spavedwithchalkywhiterocks.
“Waithere,”Danisays.
Shegetsoutofthecar,detourstotaketheDietCokecanandthrowitaway,thenwalksintoarowofscrubaboutthirtyfeetinfrontofus.InoticethatStephisrustlingthroughherbackpackintheseatbehindme.
“Wereallydoneedtocomeupwithaplan,”Isay,startingtoturnaround.
Asledgehammerhitsmeinthebackofmyheadandmyeyeballscompress,thengoblack.Whenmyvisionreturns,myheadishalfwayoutsidethecar,sunlightstabbingmyeyes,anditfeelslikemyskull’sthesizeofabeachball.Iwanttoliftmyheadtolookbackintothetruckandasheetofshatteredsafetyglassrainsdownonmyneck,fallingdownintomyshirt.Stephcrawlsovertheseatandsettlesbehindthewheel.There’smylittle.22inoneofherhands.Ican’tsmellanything.Myfacewon’tmove.
Mybodydoesn’twork.
Shelooksatmeandreachesovermyshoulder.Itrytoliftmyarmsbuttheyhavepinsandneedlesrunningupanddownthem.Stephyanksthedoorhandleanditswingsopen,dumpingmeoutontherocks.I’mtangledinmyseatbeltandthenitcomesfreeandIsprawlontheground.
InmyperipheralvisionIseeDanicomingoutofthebushes,buttoningupherjeans.IwanttoscreamandwarnherbutIcan’tevendothat.Thecardoorslamsfaraboveme,andanenginestarts.Thetruckrollsoverbothmylegsbutitdoesn’tfeellikeanythingcomparedtomyhead.Thetiresroaroverthegravelandthere’sametalcrackandthesoundofbrokenglassasitslamsintoDaniandthenshe’ssailingbackward.Iseehersmashintoatree,midwayupthetrunk,andherbodybendsinawayitshouldn’t,andthenshebouncesforwardandlandsfacedownontheedgeoftheparkinglot.
StephaniereversesbacktowhereIlieandturnsoffthetruck.Shegetsout.Iwanttoseewhereshe’sgoingbutIcan’tturnmyhead.IhearcardoorsopeningandclosingandthenIspaceoutforalittlewhileandwhenIcometoI’mhearingfootstepscrunchthroughthegraveltowardme.
“Youstupidstatistic,”shesays,squattingdownnexttome.
DidshethinkDaniwasgoingtohurtus?Orwastoosuicidaltobetrusted?Wassheconfused?DidIdosomethingtomakeherthinkIwouldhurther?ButIknowwhattherealansweris.She’snotoneofus.She’sneverbeenafinalgirl.Chrissywasright.She’saMonster.
“It’sapussypistolbutit’sthethoughtthatcounts,”shesays,holdingupmydaintylittlepistol.“Youidiotswithyourmachetesandyourmartialarts.Ifyouwanttorackupanadult-sizedbodycountyouneedsomeSmith
&Wesson.”
Ifeellimp,squeezedout,empty.AllIcandoislieonthegroundanddie.Ilookupalongherlongarmandseethatherfaceisablacksunradiatingwavesofhatredandcontempt.
“Youthinkyou’resuchabadass,”Stephaniesays.“Doyouknowhowpatheticyouare?I’vewatchedonepersonafteranothertakeyoudown,andwhenitwasmyturnitwaseveneasierthanIthought.You’vehadotherpeopleholdingyourhandforyourentirelife.You’renotevenarealfinalgirl.”
Sheleansdownandholdsherfingerundermynose.
“Fuck,”shesays.“You’restillbreathing.Okay,IguessIneedsomethingalittleheavier.Don’tgoanywhere.”
Shecrunchesovertothetruck,andIhearthedoorchimegoingbong,bong,bong,asthebackopens.Ihearthezippersofguncases.There’sashotgunbeingpumped.Thenhersneakerscrunchbackovertherocksandreentermyfieldofvision.
I’vebeenplayed.I’vebeenamoron.IbroughtherrightuphereintotheheartofRedLake.IwaswrongaboutSkye.Iwaswrongabouteverything.
AndnowI’mgoingtodie.
Deathactuallyisamomentofclarity,andinthisinstantIknowSteph’sright—I’veneededotherpeople’shelpmyentirelife.IkeepthinkingI’vecutmyselfoff,butthere’vealwaysbeenotherpeople.TheonlythingI’mgoingtodoonmyownisdie.
MyheadisenormousandnumbandevenblinkinggivesmeaheadachesoIstopandstareupatStephaniestandingoverme.She’svery,verytall
andIseethatshehasoneofDani’sshotgunshoveringovermyface.Shesteadiesthebarrel.Thebigemptycirclerestsrightovermyforehead.Mybrainsendsmybodysignalstorun,tomove,togetoutoftheway,butmymuscleshaveallgoneonstrike.
“Ireallyfreakedwhenyoushowedupatmyfrontdoor,”Stephsays.“Ithoughtyou’dactuallyfiguredsomethingout,butthenyoutookmeonasuper-bondingsoulsistersroadtrip?You’vewantedsomeonetoputyououtofyourmiseryforyears,sorelax,youSuicidalTendency.I’mthefinalfinalgirl,andyou’rejustlastyear’s—what’veyougottosmileabout?”
ShesnarlsthatlastbitbecausemyeyeshaveshiftedtotherightandIcan’thelpit,I’vetwitchedmymouthupjustalittle.Stephfollowsmygazeandherfacefalls.
“Shit.”Shesighs.
Daniisgone.
Ihopeshe’srunningrightnow,Ihopeshe’sonherwayuptoRedLaketowarneveryone,togethelp,togetreadyforthisMonster.Letmebethesacrificethatbuysthemtime,letDanigettothemandthenthey’llcomedownonStephanielikethewrathofGod.
Stephwalkstothebushes,holdingthesingle-barreledshotguntohershoulder,barreldownataforty-five-degreeangle,readytobringitupandpunchaholethroughDanithesecondshespotsher.Shepausesandlooksbackatme,debatingwhichwaytogo.
IwanttoshoutRun,Dani!Go!butmyheadismushandIthinkIcanmakemyrightcheektwitchifIconcentratehardenough,butthat’saboutit.
IwonderhowIlookwithhalfmyskullmissing.
MaybeImoved,becauseStephcocksherheadatme,thengivesupandturnsbacktothebushes,butshe’stoolate.Shemayhavebeenreadyforme,butshe’snotreadyforDani.Sixfeetofranch-hardmusclerisesupoutofthebushesandgrabsthebarreloftheshotgunanddeftlyturnsitawayfromherselfandthenDanipunchesStephanieinthethroat.
TheblowsnapsStephanie’schintoherchest,andthegungoesoff.
Danistandscrooked,hunchedover,inpain,somethingbrokeninsideher,butshecontrolsthebarreloftheshotgunandkeepsitpointedawaywhile
punchingthesideofStephanie’sheadwithherfistoverandoveragain.
Thenshetwiststhegun,anditcomesoutofStephanie’sgrasp,andDanibringsthestockdownonthesmallofStephanie’shunchedback.
Stephaniehitsthegroundface-first,andDanilimpsawayfromher,comingtowardme.Herfacelookspale,herlipsmovesoundlessly,herteetharecakedwithblood.Shedropsheavilytoherknees,setstheshotgundown,andIrealizeshe’scrying.I’mprettysureit’sfromthepain.
“Lynne,”shechokes,reachingacut-uphandtothesideofmyface.
That’swhenStephrisesupbehindher.
Danisensessomethingiswrongandsheturns,rightintothebuttoftheshotgunsmashingdownontoherforehead.Iwanttoshoutsomething,Iwanttowarnher,butmyfaceisn’tworking.Ithinkmybrainsmighthaveseepedoutintothegravel.Thebuttoftheshotguntakesherdeadcenterintheface.Somethingthickcrunches.Stephanieisgrinning,andthenDanigrabsStephanie’sankleandpulls,dumpingherontheground,andthenshe’supandrunning,hobblingfast,limpingawayfromme,leavingbigfatdropletsofbloodinherwake,disappearingbackintothebushes.Stephscramblestoherfeet,aimstheshotgun,pullsthetrigger.Itexplodesfire.
StephrunstowhereDanidisappeared,pumpingshellaftershellintotheshotgunandfiringagainandagain,thenstoppingandscanningtoseeifshecandetectDani,thenfiringagain.Idon’tthinkthisthunderwilleverstop.Finally,there’ssilence.Abirdstartstosing.
Stephaniestandsovermeagain.IrealizethatIhavetoplaytheoldesttrickinthebook,theoneIusedbeforewithRickyWalker.Iplaypossum.
Stephaniebendsoverandfeelsformybreath,butI’vestoppedbreathing.IdimlyfeelhertugonmyrightearlobeandIthinkshe’spinchingit,butmyheadismadeofwood.Idon’tmove.Shespitsononeofmywide,staringeyes.Iliestill.Thenshelaughs.
“Thisonedoesn’tevencount,”shesays.“Shebasicallykilledherself.”
Shewalksovertothetruckandthrowstheshotguninthepassengerseat.Shotgunridingshotgun,Ithinkstupidlytomyself.Shestartstheengine.ThetruckidlesforaminuteandIthinkshe’schanginghermind,
butIcan’tallowmyselftoturnmyheadtolookbecauseIknowshe’swatchingme.
Relieffloodsmyveinslikeadrugwhensheroarsoutofthere,leavingacloudofwhitedusthangingintheair.Iliestillforaminute,brainsspillingoutinthedirt,andIwonderwho’sgoingtogowarnRedLake.IwonderifDanimadeituptheretotelleveryonewhat’shappening.IwonderifStephisgoingtogettherefirstandcutthroughthemlikeabullet.
Iliethere,andIwonderwho’sgoingtosavetheday,andbloodpoolsaroundmyhead,andIdie.
—speechbyAdrienneButler,Cincinnati,Ohio,January2010THEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXXIII:Resurrection
Bushesfallbeforemywrath.Ihurlmyselfintotrees.Ikeeppushingupthemountainwiththeballsofmyfeetuntilmycalvesachethewaymyswollen,brokenheadaches.
“Stupid,”Isaytomyself.
ButIdon’tsayitoutloudbecauseeverysoundhurtsmyshatteredskull.Myentireworldisgettingupthishill,onefootaftertheother,andnomatterhowmuchmymusclesscream,nomatterhowmuchmychestburns,Idon’tstop.I’llonlystopwhenI’mdead.WhichmightbesoonerthanIthink.
“Stupidgirl,”Isaytomyself.
Itakeanotherstep.
Theworldspinsaroundme.
“Stupidfuckinggirl.”
Itakeanotherstep.
“Stupiddumbfuckinggirl.”
StandingupinthatparkinglotwasthehardestthingI’deverdone.Painnailedmetothedirt.Evengettingspikedonthoseantlersdidn’thurtlikethis.TheonlypersonwhocouldmakemestandupwasAdrienne.
“Whatareyoulyingtherefor,Lynnette?”sheasked,lookingdownatme.
“Can’t…”Itoldher.
“Youcan,”shesaid.“Youknowwhy?Becauseifyoudon’tgetup,thenallthattimeIinvestedinyouwasawaste.It’llmeanI’vefailed.AndIdon’tfail.Igrewupinahigh-pressurehousehold,Lynnette,sofailureis
hardonme.Soifyougiveup,thenlittleperfectMissAdriennehasscrewedup,too,andthat’sgoingtobehardformetoreconcile.”
Shekneltbymyhead,andIfeltherhandsslipbeneathmyarmpits,andIfeltmybodybendinginallthewrongways,tendonsscreaming,musclesshaking,andthenIstood,swayinginthemiddleoftheparkinglot,standingoverapuddleofmyownblood.Alone.
NowI’mgettingupthismountainifitkillsmeanditjustmightbecauseeverythinghurtssomuchandthenIfalltomykneesbecausethewoodsaregoneandI’mkneelinginpineconesontheedgeofCampRedLake.Ontheotherside,abigpinewoodsignshoutsWelcome,andbehinditavastgreenlawnleadstotheMainLodge,itsrawlogsglowingorangeinthepinktwilight.
“Didn’tcountonBillyWalkergettingtherefirst,didyou?”IaskStephanieinsidemytormented,pulsatingbrain.“Goddamntitaniumplateinmyhead,youmoron.”
IneverthoughtthatonedayaWalkerbrotherwouldsavemylife,butafterRickyleftmewithhalfmyskullcavedintheyhadtoinsertaplatetoholdmyheadtogether.Stephanieplinkedmerightinthemiddleofitwithherlittle.22.Scalpwoundsbleedlikestuckpigs,andI’mscaredtolookinamirror,butfornowI’malive.
Butithurts.OhGod,ithurtssobad.Ipushmyselfupontomyfeetandstaggerforwardonwhatfeellikebrokenankles,eyeslockedontheMainLodge,andthenI’mstumblingoverhardasphaltandIlookdownandI’minthecirculardrivethatrunsinfrontofCampRedLakeandIlookupagainandIstarttocry.
“Nofair,”Iwhisper.“Nofair.”
AheadofmesitsDani’senormousredF-150.Thedriver’s-sidedoorstandsopengoingbongbongbongandallmywillpowerdrainsoutthroughmyfeetbecauseStephanieisalreadyhere.Ihaven’theardanyshootingbutmyheadisaringing,roaringwaterfallofpain.
Thatclimbupthehill,wantingtodieeverystepoftheway,itwasallfornothingbecauseStephanieisalreadyhereandeveryoneIknowisdead.
IleanagainstaparkedSUV,probablyoneofMarilyn’sarmoredmonsters,andIavoidlookingatmyreflectioninitsshinysides.Evenwiththetitaniumplate,Steph’sbullethurtme.Mybrainacheswithdamage.
Evenifeveryoneelseisdead,I’mgoingtostopher.IstartlimpingtowardtheMainLodge.Idon’twanttohurtanyone,butIhavetostopherbeforeshehurtsmorepeople.Mystridelengthens,myfeetsinkintosoftgrass,thelodgeswaysfromsidetoside,andmyheadisapulsatingpainbulbattheendofmyneck.
Ipushmyselfupthesteps,walkbetweenthemassivecedarcolumnsstillwrappedinyellowcrimescenetape,anddragmylegsoverthepine-plankedporch,pushopenthefrontdoor,andstepinside.
Everythingsmellslikewood.Enormousage-lacqueredbeamssupporttherooftwostoriesoverhead,itsraftersandridgepiecelostinthelate-afternoongloom.Atoweringfieldstonefireplaceanchorsoneendofthevastlobbyandamezzaninecirclestherest.Someone’sstapledPolaroidsofgrinningSistersandtheirfamiliestoeverysurface,encrustingthepostswithwomenbaringwhiteteeth,armsslungaroundeachother’sshoulders,whilesign-upsheets,bulletinboards,Xeroxedschedules,andsafetypostersspininandoutoftheshadowsaroundmythrobbinghead.
InfrontofmesitsthecircularwelcomedeskandoveritagedironlettersspikedtothewallspelloutSisters,all
ExceptStephanie.She’sthepiecethatsticksout.Theonethatdoesn’tbelong
Whereiseveryone?WherearemySisters?Aretheyhiding?Andwhataboutthestaff?They’dcloseddownafterChristopheVolkercame,butaskeletoncrewstillhastobehere.Eightpeople?Ten?Awhisperingvoiceinsidemyskulltellsmeitonlyevergetsthisquietwheneveryoneisdead.
Twoarrow-shapedsignshangoneithersideofthefrontdesk,ropelettersontheonepointingtotherightreadingTuckShopandropelettersontheonepointingleftreadingDiningPorch.That’swhatIwant.It’salmostfive.Peoplearegoingtowanttodine.
Defenseless,IentertheMinotaur’smaze,limpingleft,pushingthroughtwoswingingdoorsmadeofroughwoodstillcoveredinbark,andIwalk
intothemesshall.Bigslabsofpalepinemarchawayfrommeinorderlyrowslikeautopsytableswithemptybenchesoneitherside.Anabandonedcanoehangsupsidedownfromtheceiling,andtheentirefarwallconsistsofglassdoorsleadingoutontothediningporch.Abloodyhandprintsmackinthemiddleofoneistheonlysignoflife.
AsignreadingSalad/SundaeBarswaysgentlyoverapileoflaundryonthefloor.Ilowermyself,kneespopping,andrealizethisbonelesssackofclothesisthebodyofawoman.Iturnherover.Notmuchofherskullisleft.Herfaceissmearedacrossthefloor.Iwonderifshewaspretty.Iwonderifshewashappy.IwonderwhoherSisterswere.ShewearsaRedLakeT-shirtandthenametagonherrightbreastisobscuredbybiologicalmatter.Iwipeitawaywithmythumb.
“I’msosorry,Marcie,”Isay,andmeanitmorethanI’veevermeantanything.
Ilookintothekitchenwhereanotherpersonliesfacedown,theirT-shirtsaturateddarkred.Thisonelookslikeaman.
Stephaniewashere.
HowmanypeoplehavediedbecauseItrustedher?
SomethingbumpspolitelyagainstawallandIwhipmyheadaround,sendingpainspikingthroughmytemples.IseeastorageclosetdoorclosedtightandmakemywayoverandstandtoonesidebecauseithasaportholewindowinthemiddleandIdon’twantwhatever’sintheretoseeme.Igivethedoorapush.Itdoesn’tmove,butmaybeit’sjustheavy.Ibracemyselfandpushagainanditrattlesagainstitsdeadboltlock.Ihearsomethingcreakinside.WhywouldStephanielockherselfinastoragecloset?Shewantstobeoutherekillingpeople.Ipressmyfacetotheglass.
It’sdarksoIcupmyhandsandlook.Somethingmovesinthedimness.
“Hey?”Iwhisper-call.
Ipraymyvoicehasn’ttraveledtoofarintothebuilding.Itaponeknuckleagainsttheglass.Whateveritismovesagain.
“Iseeyou,”Isay.
Whoeveritisrollsbackward,deeperintothedark.
“Areyouhurt?”Iask.
“Lynnette?”Amuffledvoicewaftsoutthroughthedoor,downaroundmybellybutton.
“Julia?”
Thedeadboltsnaps.SomethingflashesontheedgeofmyvisionandIduckdownandspin,catchingaflockofbirdsliftingofffromthewidelawnoutside.Silversparksfromtheirwings.Juliacomesoutoftheclosetinherchair,alowsturdymodelwithbigruggedwheelsthatslantinatthetop.
Behindherstandtwonumbteenagedboysandanervouswomanwholookslikeshegoescampingalot.
“Lockitbehindme,”Juliatellsthem.“We’llgetyouwhenit’ssafe.”
TheyobeyandIfeelsotiredthatit’sonlyJulia,thattherearestillmorepeoplelefttofind,thatStephanieisstillouttherekilling.
“Whatthehellisgoingon?”Juliaasks.
“It’sStephanie,”Isay.“StephanieFugate.”
Julia’sforeheadknitsinthemiddleforaminuteandthengoessmooth.
“TheRedLakegirl?”sheasks.“Theoneyoukidnapped?JesusChrist,Lynnette,yourpeopleskillsareshit.She’swalkingaroundherewithamachinegun.”
“Idon’tthinkshehasamachinegun,”Isay,rememberingtheshotgunsinthebackofDani’struck.
“Let’sstandhereandargueaboutthecaliberofweaponthegirlyouthoughtwasyournewbestfriendisusingtomurdereveryone,”Juliasays.
Mybraingivesadarkthrobthatmakesmewanttothrowup.
“Youlooklikeshit,soIforgiveyou,”shesays.“Cellphoneserviceisdownbutthere’salandlineinthenurse’sstationwecantryfor.”
“WhataboutHeatherandMarilyn?”Imumblethroughnumblipsaswestarttomove.
“Downbythelakewitheveryoneelse,”shetellsme.“Icameupheretogetsunscreen.AbouttwentyofthestaffarehavingamemorialserviceforAdrienne.”
I’mnotlistening.I’mstandingstill.FromthisangleIcanseepastthebloodyhandprintontheglassdoors,aroundthelonetreethatblockedmy
viewofthemiddleofthewidegreenlawnbefore.Apersonsprawlsonthegrass.Irecognizetheflannelshirt.JulialookswhereI’mlooking.
“Isthat—?”Juliabegins.
“Yougetthephone,”Isay.“I’llgetDani.”
IstartoutsidebutJuliacutsmeoffattheFrenchdoors.
“YouthinkIcan’tdostairs?”shesnaps,andzipsaroundme.
Julia’salreadyatthelipofthediningporchwhenIgetoutside.Sheleansbackinherwheelchair,putsonehandonthebanister,andpracticallyflingsherselfdownthethreestepstotheground,herwheelsabsorbingtheimpact.Itrytokeepup.
“Shagyourass,”shecallsbackatmeasherwheelchairchewsupthelawn.
Runningmakesmyheadsick,soIwalkfast,lookingbehindus,checkingtheapproaches,left,right,ahead,behind.Ascatteringoftreesrisefromthelawnbutotherwiseit’stotallyexposed.Clearsightlinesfromeverydirection.Fartotherightsitsthecampfireamphitheaterandstage.Aheadofusisthetreeline,theairbetweenthetrunksalreadydarkpurple.Backinthosetreesarethecabins,andbeyondthemliesthelakewheretwentymorevictimswaitforStephanie.
Danidoesn’tlookgood.Herlegspointintwodifferentdirections,neitherofthemnatural.She’sfacedowninthedirt,mouthopen.Inoticewithreliefhershoulderbladesmovingupanddown.She’sbreathing.
“Putherlegsacrossmychairtohelpwiththeweight,”Juliasays.“Weneedtogetbackinsideandgettothephone.”
Ican’t.
“I’mgoingtorestforaminute,”ImumbletoJulia,wavingonehand.
I’mtootired.Thegroundpullsonmyhips.Ineedtosit.Icrouch,notsurehowtomakeitdownsafely.
“Whatareyoudoing,Lynnette?”Juliashoutsfromfaraway.
Ineedtorest.
“Whatareyoudoing,Lynnette?”Adrienneasks.
She’swalkingwithmeacrossthelawn.Myclothesstinkofcordite.
She’swearingawhitesweaterandjeans.
“Tryingnottogetkilled?”Itellher/toldher.
“That’senoughforyou?”sheasks.“Continuedrespiration?That’sallyouhavetooffertheworld?”
“It’sagoodplacetostart,”Isay,wishingshewouldstopmakingmefeelsoguiltyallthetime.
Youhavetoprotectyoursister,mymomsays,standingovermewhileGillywailsintothesideofherneck.
“I’mnoYoda,”Adriennetellsme.“Butyouthinkyoursisterdiedsoyoucouldquit?YouthinkTommydiedsoyoucouldstopwhenthingsgottooscary?There’smoretolifethanstayingalive.”
“Shutup,Adrienne,”Igroan.
“Youwouldn’tfeelsoguiltyifyoudidn’tknowI’mright,”shesays.
Gravitywins.Mybuttthudsontothegrass.Ahardjoltgoesupmyspine.Myheadfloodswithhotblood.Thelawnturnsintoamerry-go-roundandspinsmepastthelodge.
Faraway,backbythelodge,ablackinsectrunsatus.Iwatchitgetbiggerandcomeintofocus.It’samaninblacktacticalgear,wearingagasmask.There’ssomekindofautomaticriflebouncingonhisback,butinhishandshe’scarryinganaxe,justlikeRickyWalker.Hislegsaremoving,eatingupthegrassbetweenus.
“Ohshit,ohshit,ohshit,”Juliasays,bendingfromthewaist,pawingatDani.
He’sseenus,andIdon’tknowwhoheisbuthepicksuphispace,andIfeelsotiredbutIswingmyheadtothetreelineandit’snotsofaraway.
Youcan,Adriennesays.
Ipushmyselftomyfeetandtheworldgivesanotherlazyrevolution,myheadswimminginaseaofpain,andIpraythatnoteverythingaroundherehaschangedtoomuchoverthepasttenyears.
Youhavetoprotectyoursister,Momsays.
IgrabDani’sbeltandtrynottolistentothepoppingsoundsasIhaulherup,thenslingheraroundandherlegshitJuliainthechest,andIlethertakesomeofDani’sweightandIstaggerforward.
“Cabins!”IthinkIshout.
Mystomachheaves,mybrainthrobs,andIstumblefastforthetreeline.
Juliakeepsup,bothhandsshovingherwheelsdownhard,herchairflyingalongbesideme,myheadexplodingwitheveryjoltingstepasthetreelinerockswildlyinmyvision,andthebackofthefirstcabinemergesfromthetrunksandIcorrectourcourse.
Somethingchattersbehindmeandtheairfluttersoverhead.He’sstoppedtoshoot.Ihopehe’sstoppedtoshoot.Everyfootweputbetweenhimandusissafety.
Upahead,Heatherslouchesoutofthetrees,carryingagreenbeerbottle,andMarilynemergesbesideherinsomekindofsummerdressandbigstrawhatsituation,agianthandbagoveroneshoulder,andIsaytoJulia,“Getthatcabinopen!”
“Thecabinmadeofwood?Thecabinfullofwindows?”sheshoutsback.
Iscreamasharp,angrysoundandthenshe’stearingacrossthegrassinherchair,tireschewingituplikealawnmower,trustingmeatlast,andI’mstaggeringunderDani’sfullweight,andMarilyn’sthere,duckingunderDani’sotherarm,knockingoffherstrawhat,andsomethingchattersbehindusagain,andDanigetsshovedforwardandIfeeltheimpacttravelallthewaydowntotheachingsolesofmyfeet.
“Haul,Lynnette!”Marilynshoutsinmyear,andwedragDanibetweenus,theworldbouncingpainfully,andthenthedarktreesclosearoundus,andIseeJuliamakesomekindofdaredevilturninherchair,thewholethingalmosttippingover,sprayingupbigplumesofdirt,andshethrowsherselfupthethreestepsintothecabin,hittingthedoorwithherbody,pushingitopen,leavingherchairtoppledonitsside,onewheelspinning.
Heather’sinnextandthenIfindthestrengthtoshovemyselfupthestairsandthroughthedoor,haulingDani,andMarilyngetsitclosedjustasDeathslamsintoitfromtheotherside.
“It’smadeoffuckingwood!”Juliascreamsfromthefloor.
Marilynmakesananimalmoandeepinsideherthroatasshetakesinthesixbigwindowsmarchingdownthewoodenwalls,threeoneachside,glowingwithafternoonlight.Theyseethewoodenwalls,thesplintery
floor,theplanksonthedoor,butnoneofthemspentthetimeherewithAdriennethatIdid.
IdropDani’sweightontoMarilynandlungeatthebedonmyright,stretching,reaching,praying.Abootedfoothitsthedoor,shakingitinitsframe.
Myfingerslamsintoaknotholeinthewallattheheadofthebed,woodscrapingtheskinoffmyknuckle,andIripitout,andwearthewoodensquarelikearingasIpunchtheredbuttonithidwithmyotherhand.
Thecabintearsitselfintwo.Marilynshrieks.Heatherdropsherbeer.
Juliacoversherearsasmotorsandgearsandboltsblastmachinescreamsintoourears.Sixdeadboltsshoothomeinthedoor.WoodenboardsdropfromthetopoftheframeofeachwindowandIruntothem,dizzy,catchingmyhipontheedgeofbeds,grabbingthedoublehandlestheyexposewithbothhands,yankingthemdown,slammingmetalshuttersoverthewindows.
“Helpme!”Iscream.
Marilyngetstwo,Igetfour.Attheend,Ivomitthingruel.
“It’sstillwood!”JuliasaysfromthefloorandwehearthemachinegunripandIrecognizethesound;evenwithouttheL.A.streetcanyonmakingitecho,it’sthesamekindofgunthatturnedmyapartmentintoashootinggallerylastweek.
Thecabinisdimnow.Thedoorvibratesinitsframe,butnosplinteredholesappear,itdoesn’tfallapart.Anotherburst.Glassshattersbutthesteelshuttersonlydoaspasticshimmyasbulletstap-danceacrosstheirsurface.
Theyhold.
“Paniccabins,”Ipant.“AdriennehadthembuiltsoI’dfeelsafe.Steelshutters.Thedoorandwallshavesteelsandwichedbetweenthewood.Thefloor’spouredconcreteunderneaththeplanks.”
“Cool,”Heathersays,andwalkstothedoorandscreams,“Fuckyou,gimp!”
Whoeveritisputsanotherhalfclipinthedoor.Wehearthebulletsstitchoversteel.
“Nowwe’restuck,”Heathersays.“Goodplan,Lynne.”
“Wecallforhelp,”Isay.“Whosephoneworks?”
“Noone’s,”Heathersays.“We’reessentiallyfucked.”
“Dani’sbleedingtoomuch,”Juliasays,applyingpressuretoDani’sback.There’sfreshwetbloodalloverherclothes,herarms,herface.
“Sowe’restuckinacabin,there’sakilleroutsidewithamachinegun,Dani’sgoingtodie,andwehavenowaytocallforhelp,”Heathersays.“IguessI’llhavetosaveusallwithmyfuckingsuperpowers.”
Sheliesdownononeofthecotsandflipsablanketoverherself,nuzzlingintothepillow.
“You’regoingtosleep?”Juliaasks.
“I’vegotacondition,”Heathersnapsfrombehindclosedeyes.
“I’llcall911,”Marilynsays,reachingintoherstrawhandbagandpullingoutaphonethatlooksslightlythickerandchunkierthanaverage.
“Noreception,”Heathersays.
“Haven’tanyofy’allheardofasatellitephone?”Marilynasks.
Ican’thearanythingoutside.Idon’tknowiftheMonsteriswaitingbythedoororifhe’sgonetothelake.Idon’tknowwhereStephanieisorwhatshe’sdoing.Idon’tevenknowifthisisStephanie.Wheredidshegetallthisgear?Butitdoesn’tmatter.Ishovethecounselor’sbedaside.
“Quitmakingsomuchnoise,”Heathersays,eyesstillclosed.
“Hello,”IhearMarilynenunciate.“I’dliketoreportanactiveshootersituation.”
Iputtwofingersinanotherknothole,thistimeinthefloor,andliftalargerpaneltorevealaboltedtrapdoor.
“Whatthehell?”Juliaasks.
“TherearetwentyofAdrienne’speoplebythelake,”Isay.
“Youcan’t—”Juliabegins,butIdon’tlisten,justreleasethehatchanddropthroughintothesoftcoolsandunderneaththecabin.Istandup.
“Boltitbehindme,”Isay.
ThenIduckdownandreconnoiter.Theslitoflightbetweenthebottomofthecabinandthegroundlooksclear:nolegsinblackcombatpants,notacticalboots.Iscramblethroughthesandtowardthefrontofthecabin.
Behindme,Ihearthetrapdoorboltsslamintoplace.Good.
Iscrambleoutonmyhandsasmykneesgiveoutandstand,swaying.
Thetreesandcabinsrockdangerouslyandshadowsrushinaroundtheedgesofmyvision,butIseeabrighterlightinfrontofmethroughthetreesandIknowthatwayliesthelake.Theshootercan’tbethereyet.They’llhavetopassthreemorerowsofcabins,thechill-outyurt,thenatureobservatory,andthesweatlodge.
Behindme,thesplinteredfa?adeofthecabinshowsscorchedgalvanizedsteelpepperedwithcharredpockmarks.Istumble-runtomyleft,headingparalleltothelake,andwhenIreachtheendoftherowofcabins,Iputmyhandsaroundmymouth,pulladeepbreathintomybruisedlungs,andturnmybodyintoasingleshout.
“Stephanie!”Iroar,andIhearmyvoiceechoupintothetreecanopyhighabove.“I’mstillalive.Youwantme.Comeandgetme.”
I’mwinded.Blackspotsflickerandstrobeinmyvisionandthenoneofthemswarmsatmewithapurpose,andIrealizeit’sdroppingtoonekneeandIseefireflickerfromitsshoulderandbeesscreampastmyface,tuggingmyhairintheirwake.
Iturnandrun.
TheWellnessBarnloomsupaheadofmeinthegloom,abigredwallofwoodwithpeaksoneitherendfacingmelikeraisedeyebrows.It’sthebiggestbuildingatRedLakeaftertheMainLodge,builtbackintheearlyninetieswhenAdriennetookover.It’sfullofEMDRrooms,narrativemedicineoffices,arttherapystudios.Lotsofrooms,lotsofdoors,alabyrinthwhereIcangetwhoeverthisislost,keepthemangry,makethemwastetheirtime,stayfocusedonme,notthetwentysofttargetsdownbythelake.I’llleadtheminoneside,thenupthroughthestudiostothefarendofthesecondfloorwherethere’sasecretcrawlspaceinthewalls.It’sagameofhide-and-seekandbythetimetheygiveupthepolicewillbehere.
TheFrenchdoorscomeupandIputoutmyhandstostiff-armthemopen,andasIcrashthroughtheminashowerofwoodandglassIremembertoolatetheydon’tpush,theypull,andthenI’mtrippingovertheirshatteredbottomrail,slidingacrosstheflooroftheentranceatriumontheheelsofmyhands.
Ihurt.Myheadswimsinaseaofpain.Everythingsmellslikelemongrassandcinnamon,andthecooltinklingofafengshuiwaterfeatureinthecornerwouldeasethepaininmyskullifIhadn’tjustgottenshotinthehead.Suspendedstairsfloatuponewalltothesecondfloorandskylightsletpinklightstreaminfromhighabove.Onthewallsomeone’spaintedinflowingscript:
Sometimesallwehaveleftisawishandahope.
Thentheairexplodesbehindmeandbulletsstitchacrosswishesandhopes.Iforcemyselftomyfeetandthere’snotime,they’reonmyheels,thestairsaretooexposed,andIlurchtotherightandcrashthroughthefirststudiodoor.
Ibarelyhavethedoorclosedbeforeabodyhitsithighandhard.Italmostcomesoffitshinges,butImanagetoholditshut,pressingitintotheframe.There’ssilencefromtheothersideforamoment,thenthebladeoftheaxeslapsthroughthewood,almostsplittingmylefthand.IyankitbackandsnapthedeadboltintoplaceasDeathhacksthedoorintopieces.Ihearmyselfsob.
Thedoorcomesaparttoofast.IthinkImighthavemadeaseriousmiscalculation.TheWellnessBarnismadeofhopesanddreams,notgalvanizedsteelandreinforcedconcrete.
Thedoorexplodesoutofitsframe,pancakingtotheground,almosttakingmewithit,andI’mrunning,myheadathrobbingbagofblood,thensomethingsweepsmylegsoutfromundermeandinthewallofmirrorstomyrightIseeabloodyscarecrowgoingassoverheelsasItripoverayogaball.
Iturn,shovemyselfup,giveitakick,andthepinkballliftsoffthefloor,launchingitselfstraightattheruineddoorandintotheshooter,knockingtheirkneesoutfromunderthem.Theyfalldown,lettinggowiththeirgun,andthemirroredwallexplodesintosilvertrianglesandshatteredcirclesthatraintothefloor.
EverystudiointheWellnessBarnhastwodoors,andIflythroughthenextoneandstumbleintoawallofworldmusic,crashthroughadisplayofhealingcrystals,takeamassagetableinthehip.Thespectralsoundsofthe
universeswirlaroundme,harpsglissando,chimesvibrate,crystalkeysplinkoutthemysteriesoflife.Istumbleacrosstatamimatswhiletheachingmusicofonenesspicksmeupandtriestocarrymeaway,andImakeitoutthenextdoorastheshootercomesin,crunchingcrystalsbeneaththeirboots.
ThenextstudioisL-shapedandit’smusictherapyandtheshooteristoocloseformetodoanythingbutrun.Theyfireandxylophonesexplode,cymbalsroarinafrenzyasbulletsshredadrumkit,andguitarsexplodewithhollowpops,fillingtheairwithrawsprucesplinters.
IturnthecorneroftheLandmyfeetshootoutfromundermeandmybrainsplitsdownthemiddleasIhitthefloorhardwithoneshoulderandIscrambletomyfeetandkeepmoving,butIrealizemyplanhasfailed.Ican’tlosethem.They’retooclose.MyfeetdigintothecarpetandIlaunchmyselfatthedooraheadbecauseIdon’thaveaplananymore,andthenIhaveaplan.
YouhavetoprotectyourSisters,MomsaysasGillyhowls.
I’mthedecoy,I’mthedistraction,I’mthesittingduck.Ijustneedtokeepthemherewhileeveryoneelsegetsaway.Ijustneedtorunoutmystring.
Adriennewasright:there’smoretolifethanstayingalive.
ThedoorfliesopenundermyhandsbutnotfastenoughandIhititwithmyforehead,andI’minalongroomfullofpinkandwhitestreamersandheliumballoonsinAdrienne’sfavoritecolorsandtherearecupcakesandsoftdrinksandI’vegonebackintime,I’minfirstgradeandpartofmybrainknowsit’sareceptionforafterAdrienne’smemorialbutpartofmeisachild,screaming,running,I’mquickasabunny,Mom
Theshootercomesinbehindmetoofast,tooclose,andtheysqueezeoffroundsthatevaporateballoonsandchopstreamerstoconfettianddigintothefarwallpaintedwithtribaldesignsandI’meverygirlwho’severrunfromamanwithaweapon,everygirlwhoeverranforherlifeacrossspaceswhereshewassupposedtobesafe.IcrashintothenextstudioandI’mJuliarunningthroughherdorm,I’mHeatherrunningdownherhighschoolhalls,I’mMarilynrunningthroughtheTexasafternoon,I’mDani
runningthroughahospital,I’mAdriennerunningthroughthiscamp,thiscampwheretherewillalwaysbeagirlrunningandscreamingandscreaming,andI’mLynnette,runningatlast,andhecan’tcatchme,I’masfastasallofusputtogether,I’mfasterthanBillyWalker,I’mfasterthantheGhost,I’mfasterthantheentireVolkerfamily,I’mthefastestgirlintheworld.
Ipushmyself,sprinting,legspumping,headbouncingontheendofmyneck,andthisisit,thisismylastrace,andIslamthewoodendooropenandrunintothehumidchlorinecloudoftheaquatherapystudio.Icantricktheshooterintooneofthesepoolsintheconcretefloor,forcethemdown,usetheirheavygearagainstthem,butthey’realreadyinthedoorwayandIdon’tevenhavetimetoslamitintheirface.Theyshoveitopenwiththeirelbows,gunraised,andIfallforward,thesteeltubesofapoolladderchippingmypelvis,andonefootgoesinwarmwaterandIpullitoutandslosh-limp-sloshacrosstheroomasfastasIcantothethreedoorsinarowthataretheonlyplacelefttorun.
ThepaininmyheadissobadI’malmostblind.ThedooronthefarrightisinfrontofmeandI’llgetinside,Iwon’tstop;I’llcrashthroughthewindowontheoppositewallandmakeitoutside,andhideinthewoods.Icrashinsideandthereisnowindow.Thereisnootherdoor.
It’sanindividualhydrotherapyroom,allsandstonetileandabigwhitetubandatoiletandasinkandamassagetableandthedoorfliesopenbehindmeandknocksmeforwardandI’mtumbling,stumbling,feetflying,andItakethelipofthetubhighinmythighs,andmyfeetgoovermyheadandI’msprawledacrossthebottomofthetubstaringupatmymomasGillyscreamsintothesideofherneck.
IsqueezemyeyesshutandblackbloodpulsesbehindmylidsbecauseIdon’twanttodie.Iopenthemandmyheadisfullofbrokenglassshreddingmysoftbrain,andDeathstandsoverthetubanditisthebiggestthingintheworld.
Deathpointsitsgunatme,aTEC-9,oneofthosevideogamegunsthatboysthinkaresocool.It’saterriblegun,butnotatthisrange.Deathwearsblacktacticalgear,coveredinbeltsandstrapsandpouchesandallthose
thingslittleboysthinkwillmakethemstrong.ThegasmaskhidesItsface.
TacticalglovescoverItshands.It’swearingablackhelmetandthisisallovercompensatingforhowsmallDeathfeelsinside.Oninstinct,IlookatItsshoes.
UnderArmourzippertacticalboots,andfiresparksinsidemyhead.
“Skye?”Isay.
Where’sStephanie?Isshehelpinghim?Ishehelpingher?Isshedead?
WasIwrongandshe’sonemorefinalgirlnotchedintohisbelt?
Hisbreathraspsthroughhisgasmask.Thenhesayssomething,andthemaskmufflesit,butallmystrengthleavesmybodybecauseIstillhearthewords.
“You’lldiealoneandnoonecares,”hesays.
MymompressesascreamingGillytothesideofherneck.YouhavetoprotectyourSisters.AndIcouldn’tevendothat.I’msorry,Gilly.I’msorry,Dr.Carol.I’msorry,MomandDad.I’msorry,MikeandLiz.I’msorry,Fine.I’msorry,everyone.
I’msorryIcan’tfightanymore.
Skyeadjustshisgriponhisweapon.
I’msorry,Adrienne.
Hepointshisgunatmyfaceanditsmuzzleisayawningblackholebigenoughtoswallowtheworld.
AndHeatherisonhim,streakinginfromoutofnowhere,theheavywhiteporcelainlidofthetoilettankinherhands,andshebringsitdownonthebackofhisneckandfollowsthroughonherswing.Theporcelainlidexplodesonimpactintoathousandrazorshardsthatpeppermyface.
Skye’sbodybendsinonedirection,hisheadbendsinanother,andhefallsforward,catchinghisfaceontheedgeofthetubashegoesdown.Hedoesn’tgetup.
Foramoment,there’snosoundbutthetwoofusbreathing.
“Where’severyoneelse?”Ifinallymanage.
“Backinthecabin,”Heathersays.“Lockedin.”
Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.
“Buthowdidyougethere?”Iask.
Heather’spantingbutmanagessomethingclosetoagrin.
“LikeIsaid,I’mintosomehigher-levelshitthatyoucouldneverunderstand.”
AfterwhatIsawinherroomatChrissy’smuseum,Idon’tdoubtitforaminute.
IstartpickingmyselfupoutoftheJacuzzi,andHeatherleansdownandstartsunbucklingSkye’shelmetandgasmask.
“Ishealive?”Iask.
“Mostly,”Heathersays,workingathischinstrap,finallygettingitfree.
“Don’tmovehim,”Isay.“Hisneckmightbebroken.”
ShepushesbackhishelmetandpeelsoffthegasmaskandIseehisface,darkcirclespaintedaroundhiseyes,hairsoakedwithsweat,eyelidsfluttering.ItreallyisSkye.
Hemusthavehatedusallsomuch.
Heatherstandsanddeliversahardkicktohisballs.Herkickmoveshisbodylikeaheavysackoflaundry.
“Weshouldn’tmovehim,”Heathersays,punctuatingherwordswithmorekickstohiscrotch.“Definitelynot.Don’twant.Tohave.Aspinalcord.Injury.”
Itakeasteptowardherandmyheadspinsdangerouslyfast,feelinglikeitmightfloataway.Iputonehandonhershouldertosteadymyself.
“Stop,”ItellHeather.“Gethisgun.”
Shebendsoverandpicksitup,thencentersitonhischest,lookingdownthroughitssightsattheMonstersprawledonthefloorinthewreckageoftheeco-friendlybathroom.
“Heather,”Isay.“He’sherson.”
Shedoesn’tacknowledgeme.Westandlikethatforwhatfeelslikeaverylongtime.Finallyshelowersthegun,thentossesitintothetubwithaloudclatter.
“Fuckit,right?”shesays.
“Fuckit,”Isay.“Nooneelsediestoday.”
“Well,isn’tthatabigballofsunshine,”Stephaniesaysfromthedoor.
Heatherstartstoturn,butStephaniehastheshotgunagainstthebackofherneck.ThroughHeather’sthroatit’spointedrightatmyface.Stephaniestandsinthesquarestance,motionless,buttofthegunagainsthershoulder,cheekweldedtothestock,readytoletherbodytaketherecoil,hernonfiringhanddirectingthebarrel.Heather’sbackistoher,I’montheothersideofHeather,Skye’sbodytakesuphalfthebathroom,andthere’snowherelefttorun.
“That’sthesecondtimeyou’vesavedyourselfbyplayingpossum,”
Stephsays.“How’dyoudoit?”
“Plateinmyhead,”Isay.
“Goddamn,”shesayssoftly.“Tobehonest,IbarelyskimmedyourWikipediapage.I’mnotinterestedinroadkill.Thisskunkyjunkie,ontheotherhand,she’sbiggame.”
“Fuckingsuperfans,”Heathersays.
“Whatever,grandma,”Stephaniesays.“MymanandIhavebeenrunningyouforweekslikeratsinamaze,andnowwe’regunningyoudownlikefishinabarrel.Youstupidoldbagsdon’thavealottobeproudof.Thiswasaboutaschallengingasawetfart.”
Whatstickswithmeis“myman.”
“Skye…”Ibegin.
“Wemetonline,”shesays.“Noone’sgoingtorememberyoulosersafterthis.SkyeandIwillbeheroes.Peoplewillbetalkingaboutthestatementwemadehereforyearstocome.You’rejustpointlessnostalgiaandwe’reheretosweepyouintothetrash.Everyoneneedstostopclingingtothepast.”
“Pullthetriggerorshutthefuckup,”Heathersays,butIcanseeherfaceandit’sonlyhervoicethat’sbrave.“You’reasboringasmylastboyfriend.”
Stephaniesmiles.
“Okay,”shesays.
Ihavetokeephertalking.
“Youdidallthistobefamous?”Isay.“YoukilledallthesepeopletobeonTV?”
“Whatelseisthere?”Stephanieasks.
IrememberthefileinDr.Carol’shouse,theonewithStephanie’spictureonit.IrealizehowSkyefoundher.
“Hereachedouttoyoufirst,didn’the?”Iask.
“Youdon’thavetimeforourdatinghistory,”Stephaniesays.
“Hegroomedyou,”Isay.“Hetoldyouhowevilwearebecausehehateshismomandthenhegroomedyou.”
“Notevenclose,”shesays,butIcantellshedoesn’tlikebeinganobjectratherthanthesubject.
“Thisisn’tgirlpower,”Isay,panic-talkingnow.“You’reSkye’spuppet.Incourtyourlawyer’sgoingtoclaimemotionalcoercion.Youweren’tresponsibleforyouractions.Themanwasinchargealltheway.
You’llbejustanothervictimofapowerful,manipulativemale.”
“Don’ttrytorunagameonme,Lynnette,”Stephaniesays.“We’reequals.Thathowloveworksthesedays.”
“Youthinkit’saboutyouandSkye?”Iask.“Thisisabouthimandhismommy.You’rethesaddaughter-in-lawtohispsychoobsession,afootnoteinhiscasefile.We’llgetthememorials,we’llbetheheroes,he’llbeembracedbyabunchofsadlittleboysontheInternet,butyoudon’tfitinanywhere.You’llbeforgottenbecauseallyoueverdidwassay‘yes,sir,’
‘no,sir,’andpulledthetriggerwhenDaddysaid.”
“Fuckyou,”shesays.
“YouknowI’mright,”Isay.“Unlessyoukillhim,too.”Igiveitabriefpause.“He’sstillalive.”
Heatherisdartinghereyesfromlefttoright,shakingthem“no,”andhermouthismouthingnoandsheknowswhatI’mdoingandIignoreher.
“He’sprettybangedup,”Isay,lookingdownandtomyright.“Ibetyoucouldfinishhimbyhand.Thatwouldmakeastatement.”
I’mcommittednow.Forthefirsttimeinyears,I’mnotscared.
Stephanie’seyesnarrowandtheyflickdowntoSkyeandthat’sallI’mgoingtoget.Iprayforspeed.
Everythinghappensatonce.IdroplowandshoulderpastHeather,leapingupandforward,ignoringtheironbandsclampedaroundmyskull,
andonearmisgoingupandoutandthrustingthebarreloftheshotgunawaylikeIsawDanidoearlier.Theairinthebathroomexplodesandmyhandisonfire,palmsearing,stickingtothebarrel,andmyshoulderbreaksandtheroomfillswithgrittygraygunsmoke.Somewherebesideme,Heatherisfallingintothetub.
Myfeetdon’ttouchthegroundandI’mtacklingStephanie.MyheadclipsthedoorframeasItakeherdownanditthrobssohardIalmostblackout,butnotenoughtomakemeforgettolandonherbody.Ihearalltheairwhooshoutofherlungswhenwehittheconcretefloorwithmyfullweightontop,theburning-hotshotguntrappedbetweenourchests.
We’relyinghalf-inandhalf-outofthehydrotherapydoorandI’mtooweaktohither,orcuther,orshoother,soIjustwrapmyarmsandlegsaroundherandholdontight.
Shebucksandsquirmsandscreamsandfights,tryingtowormherfingerintothetriggerguard,butshe’sjustakidafterall,andIkeepherontheground,pressedtothetile;myarmskeepherfromgettinganyleverage,mylegswraparoundhercalvestokeepthemfrompushingup.IusemybatteredchintoforceherskulldownuntilI’mpinningherheadtotheground,andourfacesarecloseenoughtokiss.
Shespitsandscreamsandhowls,butshe’snotgoinganywhere,andafterawhilesheknowsit.Shestartstoscreaminmyear,soloudmybraingoeswhite.
EventuallyImakeoutwhatshe’ssaying.
“Killme!”she’sscreaming,overandoveragain.“Killme!Killme!
Killme!”
Theypullmeoffeventually,andbythentheyhaveflexi-cuffsonSkye,andMarilynandHeatherputapaironStephanie.Astheydraghertotheothersideoftheroomshekeepshereyesonme.
“Youshouldhavekilledme,youfuckingskank,”shespits.
I’mtired.Ihurteverywhere.Freshpaincreepsintoeveryinchofmybody.
“You’llgototrial,”Isay,exhausted.“You’llgotoprison.”
“Fuckyou!”shescreeches.“I’llfuckingescape!”
I’msotiredofallthishurtingandkillingandthesethreatsandthisendlesslitanyoffearthathasbeenmylife.
“No,youwon’t,”Isay.“You’renotthatsmart.”
Letherlive.LetherandSkyelive.Letthemliveandseejusthowsmallandmeaninglesstheirmurderswere.She’skilledsomanypeopleandyouknowwhat?Theworld,justasuncooperativeandstubbornasalways,keepsspinningalong.
Dyingisn’ttheimportantthing.It’snothingmorethanthepunctuationmarkontheendofyourlife.It’severythingthatcamebeforethatmatters.
Punctuationmarks,mostpeopleskiprightoverthem.Theydon’tevenhaveasound.
—emailfromStephanieFugatetoSkyeElliott,ProsecutionExhibit137-ATHEFINALGIRLSUPPORTGROUPXXIV:ANewBeginning
Achromedolphinleapsfromultravioletwaves.
Threelumpypinkelephantslinkarmsandformakickline,shouting,HappyVisitingDay!
Sometimesthebiggestjourneysbeginwiththesmalleststeps,proclaimapairoflegsinscuffedsneakers.
Thatone’sforme.Rightnow,allIcantakearesmallsteps.
Whentheyprocessedmethroughthemetaldetector,thenewplateinmyskulldidn’tbeepbecauseit’ssurgical-qualitypolymer,buttheyspentalongtimex-rayingmycaneandconfiscatedmyTylenol3,whichisbadbecauseIfeelaheadachecomingon.Theypattedmedownandfeltmeup.
BythetimetheyallowedmeintotheCentralCaliforniaCorrectionalFacility,Ifeltninetyyearsold.
Gettingshotintheheadturnedouttobethemiraclecureforpanicattacks.WhenIwokeupinthehospital,JuliatoldmeI’dbeenunconsciousforthreedayswhiletheylettheswellinginmybrainsubside.Iwaitedformylungstocrampormythroattoclosebutallthathappenedwasaslightelevationinmyheartrate.IguessmybodyfigurediftherewasanyoneelseinStephanieandSkye’sconspiracytheywouldhavetakentheirshotalready.Istilldon’tfeelsafe,butforthefirsttimesinceIwassixteenI’mnotscaredallthetimeeither.
“Iseveryoneokay?”IaskedJuliathenexttimeIwokeup,andshestartedsayingsomethingwithtoomanywordsandIpassedoutagain.
TheTVwasalwaysoninmyroomandpeopledriftedinandouttellingmethingsIcouldn’tunderstandasIslippedintounconsciousnessandback
outagain,floatingonbigwavesofpainkillers.
InmylucidmomentsIwatchedSkye’slawyer.Hehelddailypressconferenceswherehereadextensivelyfromhisclient’smanifestos.Turnsouthe’sabigmen’srightsactivistandtheirplanistoclaimthatSkyewasthevictimofanout-of-controlfeministconspiracy.Skye’svenomisgettingamplifiedandre-amplifiedallovertheInternet.ItwouldhavebeeneasierforDr.CarolifI’dletHeathershoothim.
Weallgotfamousagain.Sofamous,infact,thatwhenIfinallygotoutofthehospitalMarilynsentacarandtwosecuritygoonstopickmeup.WehadaveryniceconversationintheircarabouttheholdoneofthemhadusedtotakemedowninMarilyn’sbackyard.WhenI’mabletowalkunassistedagainhe’sgoingtoteachittome.
Myapartmentwasstillevidence,andmylandlordwassuingmefortensofthousandsindamages.Ihadnowheretogo,nolifetogetbackto,Ihadnothingexceptanendlessparadeofpeoplewhowantedtoputmeonthenewsto“tellmystory.”TheyallwanttoknowhowI“feel.”
Noone’saskingmehowIfeelasIsitinthevisitor’sareaoftheCCCF
lookingatthestock-artinspirationalpostersandtheamateur-hourmuralsonthewalls.IftheydidI’dtellthemthatmyjawaches,thescalparoundmynewplateitches,andanuglybrownheadachethrobsbehindmyeyes.
AndI’mbeginningtothinkI’vemadeamistakecominghere.
MarilynarrivesbeforeIcanchangemymindandleave.Allowablejewelryislimitedtoasinglenecklaceandonering,straplessdressesareforbidden,andyoucan’twearorange,beige,bluedenim,orforestgreen,buttheydoallowsunhatsandshe’scarryinganenormouswhiteoneinherhand.
Igetakissoneachcheek.
“HaveyouheardfromDr.Carol?”Iask,wipingherlipstickaway.
“Iwroteheranote,”Marilynsays.“Ithinkwe’regoingtohavetoacceptthatshe’llbeoutofcirculationforsometime.”
IspentthefirsttwodaysafterIgotoutofthehospitaltryingtoreachDr.Carol,butIcouldnevergetthrough.Shereadonepublicstatementandthatfootagegotairedoverandoveragain.Dr.Carollookingdownata
pieceofpapershakingsohardinherhandsshehadtoplaceitonthetable.
Sherecitedaseriesofshort,stiffsentencesaskingforeveryonetopleaserespectherprivacyinthisdifficulttime.Itdidn’tdoanygood.Theyhoundedheruntilshedisappeared.Noneofuscouldgetheronthephone,noneofuscouldreachherbyemail.Iwantedtohelpher.Iwantedtotellherit’sokay.She’ddonesomuchforme.ButIdidn’tgetthechance.
“Dani’snotwithyou?”Marilynasks.
AfterIgotoutofthehospital,MarilynofferedmeherguesthousebutIwantedtobesomewherequiet.IaskedDaniifIcouldstayonherranch.
Shedidn’tsayno,soItookthatasayes.Ilikeitoutthere.Icanseeanyonewho’scomingfromalongwayaway.Allherhorsescameback,andIlikespendingtimewiththem.Ilikethewaytheysmell,howtheymove,thewarywaytheycheckouttheworld.IthinkagainthatGillianlovedhorses,andshenevergottoride.I’mbuildinguptoit.Maybe.
“She’satPT,”ItellMarilyn.“She’sgettingaridewithJulia.”
They’regoingtohavetorebuildDani’sleftleg,herlefthip,andbothknees.Forthefirsttwodays,sherefusedtogetoutofherhospitalbed.Onthethirdday,Juliarolledintoherroomandclappedbriskly.
“Thispitypartyisherebycanceled,”shesaidasanurserolledinanemptywheelchair.“It’stimeyougotoutofthatcomfycoffinandstartedlivingagain.”
Julialovesknowingmoreaboutsomethingthansomeoneelse,andshedefinitelyknowsmoreaboutwheelchairsthanDani.Shecameouttotheranchandthethreeofusspentaweekmakingitaccessible,thetwooftheminchairs,mewithmycane,justthreebroken-downfinalgirlsandacoupleofcontractorsfromtown.Dani’sgottensogoodthatsheboughtoneofthoseFreedomChairsanddisappearsintothedesertfordaysatatime.
ThefirsttimeshevanishedovernightIfreakedout.WhenIsawherreturningthroughthescrubinbackofthehousethenextdayarounddusk,sawingawayatherpushlevers,bumpinghardoverthedirt,Iranoutandgaveherhell.ShewaiteduntilIranoutofsteam.
“Ilikesleepingunderthestars,”shesaid.“Iwatchedthehawks,Iwatchedcoyotes.Michellecameandsatwithmeforawhile.Shedidn’tsay
muchbutshelistened.I’llprobablygooutandseeherprettyregularnow.”
Sheleveredpastmetowardthehouse,thenstoppedandsaid:
“Ilikedyoubetterwhenyoudidn’ttalksomuch.”
“Doyouhateme?”IaskMarilyn,aswewaittogetherintheemptyCCCFvisitingroom.
Plastictablesareboltedtothelinoleumfloor,therearenowindows,there’saplayspaceinthecornerwithdancingcartoonanimalspaintedonthewalls.Itlookslikethesaddestgrade-schoolcafeteriaintheworld.
“DoIhateyou?”Marilynasks.
Inod.I’mthinkingaboutmyletters,thinkingaboutthebook,thinkingabouthowIcalledheraspoiledalcoholic,thinkingaboutallthemistakesImade.
“Letmeshowyousomething,”shesays,puttingherbigstrawpurseonherlapandpullingoutherenormousphone.Sheswipesherthumbdownanddownanddownandthentapsherscreenandholdsitout.
AtfirstIdon’tunderstandwhatI’mlookingatandthenIdon’tknowhowImissedhim.
“Fine!”Isayoutloud.
She’stransferredhimfromhispotintooneofthesoft,loamyflowerbedssurroundingtheguestcottage.He’sgrownsinceIabandonedhim,unfoldingnewleaves,tinygreenpeppersbloomingfromhisbuds,spreadinghisrootswide,unfurlingnewfronds.
ItfeelslikeatouchofmercyIdon’tdeserve.
“Ihopeit’sokay,”Marilynsays.
“Fine,”Isay,andit’sembarrassingthatI’mtalkingtonotevenaplantbutapictureofaplantonsomeoneelse’sphone,butIcan’thelpmyself.
“Lookatyou.You’regrowingup.Andyou’resurroundedbysomanysexyferns.”
Huge,primordialfernsrisefromthegroundaroundhim.
“Hewasallcoopedupinthatpot,”Marilynsays.“Therewasnoroomforhimtogrow.Imean,hispoorlittlerootsweretraumatized.IhopeIdidallright.”
Finewon’tbecomingwithmeanymore.Hewon’tsitonhisperchandwatchTVwithmeeveragain.Heisn’tmineanymore.
“It’sgreat,”ItellMarilyn.“It’sperfect.IthinkIwasholdinghimback.”
“There’salovelypepperbushintherewaitingtocomeout,”Marilynsays.“He’sgoingtojustgrowandgrow.Nexttimeyouseehim,Ibetyouwon’tevenrecognizethelittleguy.”
Yousee,ItellFineinsidemyhead.You’regoingtobebetterthanever.
“Andnowyou’vegotanexcuse,”Marilynsays.
“Forwhat?”
“Tocomevisit,”shesays.
ShetucksherphonebackinherbagandIsitonthehardplasticchairandstareatthehummingvendingmachinesontheothersideoftheroomandtrytofigureoutwhyIfeelsolonely.
“ImissAdrienne,”Ifinallysay.
“Metoo,”Marilynsays.
“Shewasthebestofus,”Isay,andmychestaches.
Iturnmyheadtostudyamuralonthefarwall.It’sofasunsetonatropicalbeachthatlookslikeitwaspaintedwithseveraldifferentshadesofmud.
“No,”Marilynsays,andshetakesmychinandturnsmyheadtofaceher.“You’rethebestofus,Lynnette.Youneverquit.Youneverstopped.
Yousavedeveryone.”
Faintlinesradiatefromthecornersofhereyes,andtinyindentationsmarkherupperlip.Icanseeherroots.Asinglehairsproutsfromherchin.
I’veneverseenanyonethiscloselybefore.I’veneverbeenseenthiscloselybefore.
Sheleansbackandrummagesinherpurse,lookingforgum.
“I’minsuspenseaboutDani,”shesays,findingapackofBigRed.
“Thevisitationrulessaidnodenim,nocamouflage,andnofabricsthatresemblestateissued-inmateclothing.What’sshegoingtowear?”
AfterDanidisappearedinsidethatday,Istoodoutbackbymyselfforawhileandlookedacrossthedesert.Hordesofcicadassawedtheirlegs
togetherintheeucalyptustreesascliffswallowsswoopedanddarted,chasingbugs.Somethingstirredintomotionfartomyright,andIwatchedthesandytailofasnakedisappearbeneathacreosotebush.
Whitemothsflutteredbetweendustyscrubunderneathapalecrescentmoonintheearly-eveningsky.Awayinthehills,carsglitteredandflashedliketinyjewels,andIthoughtabouthowmanypeoplewereoutthere.
Thereweresomanypeople.
SomethingtappedmyfootandIjumped,thenrealizeditwasjustacricket.Itsatthereonmyshoe,pulsingforasplitsecond,andthen,withasnap,itwasgone.Inthedistance,Iheardoneofthehorsessnort.
There’ssomuchlifeanditjustkeepsgoing.Maybenoteveryone’slife,butLife.Itdoesn’tstopforanyone.Chrissysaidtherewereonlytwoforcesintheworldandtheybalanceeachother:lifeanddeath.Creationanddestruction.Butshe’swrong.There’sonlyone.Becausenomatterhowhardwetry,wecan’tstoplife.Nomatterhowmuchwefight,nomatterhowmanywekill,thingskeepchanging,andgrowing,andliving,andpeoplegetlost,andfallaway,andcomeback,andgetborn,andmoveon,andnomatterwhatit’sallsomuch,it’sallsohard,thewaylifejustkeepsgoingandgoing.
“Hey,y’all!”Marilynhollersbesideme,wavingonearm.“Overhere.”
JuliaandDanirolltowardusintheirwheelchairsfromthefarendoftheroom,JuliatalkingandtalkingatDani,who’stotallyfocusedonsteeringherwaythroughtheplastictablestowhereMarilynandIsitinasmallcircleoffoldingchairs.
“Theytriedtomakeususeprisonwheelchairs,”Juliasays.“Iaskedthemhowthey’dfeelaboutanADAlawsuitandIpracticallyhadtodraftonebeforetheyletusthrough.”
Ilookatuswithourwheelchairs,andstitches,andgauzepads,andaluminumcanes.Welooklikemodelsatasurgicalsupplyconvention.
“Yourman’swaitingoutside,”Danisaysassherollstoastop.
WhenmytaxipulledupoutsidetheCCCFearlier,Ididn’tseeGarrettP.Cannonatfirst.Hehadonanobnoxiousnewdove-grayhatandmatching
suitwithoneofhisbolotiessoIdon’tknowhowImissedhim.HecaughtmeasIlimpedacrossthesidewalktotheentrance.
“Gratitudecomeshardforyou,Iknow,”hesaid,droppinghisDutchMasterscigarilloandgrindingitoutwiththeheelofhiscowboyboot.“Butevenso,I’mthinkingyoushouldsparesomethank-you-kindlysforthelawenforcementherowhomadethisallpossible.”
“Hello,Garrett,”Isaid.
“Iholleredyournamethreetimes,”hesaid.“Atleast.”
“Yeah,I’msorry.ThepainfrommyinjuriesmakeithardformetowalksoIreallyhavetofocus.Thatmustbeinconvenientforyou.”
OnceIgetstartedwalking,Ican’tstopfortoolongorIstarttostiffenup,soIkeptgoingbutImovedsoslowitwaseasyforGarretttokeeppace.
“Don’tgetyourpantiesinatwist,Lynney,”hesaid.“I’mjustsaying,Ihadtobendalotofrulesandcallinalotoffavorstogety’allsomealonetimeinthere.Notmanymenwoulddothatforawomanwhotreatedthemthewayyoutreatedme.”
“I’mverygrateful,Garrett,”Isaid.
“SothisafternoonI’mgoingtocallmyagentaboutourbook,”Garrettsaid.“Yousaidwe’dwriteitifIsetthisup,andIthinkyou’llagreethatI’vedoneahero’sduty.Obviouslymynamewillgofirstonthecover.”
Istoppedandfacedhim.
“Garrett,”Itoldhim.“WhenIsaidI’dwriteabookwithyou?Ilied.”
Istartedlimpingforwardagaintothesoundofhimcursingmeuponesideanddowntheother.
Insidethevisitingroom,Marilynasks,“Whendoesthisstart?We’reallhere.”
NooneknowswhereHeatheris,butweassumeshe’sokay.IwouldhavelikedtotellherthatIdon’tblameherforcallingthecopsbut,asalways,Heatherisn’tgoingtogiveanyoneanounceofsatisfaction.
MarilynsetupasmallbankaccountforherandtoldustherewereregularATMwithdrawals.MaybesomeonekilledHeatherandtookhercard.
Maybeshe’slookingfortheDreamKing.Maybeshe’sjustouttheresomewhere,beingHeather.
Weallturnwhenwehearthedooropenatthefarendoftheroom,butit’sonlyatallcorrectionsofficerwithabigbellystridingbetweenthetables.He’swearingabeigeshirtanddarkgreenpantsandforsomereasonpeopleinthisfieldstillthinkit’sokaytohaveamustache.
“I’mCaptainWinslow,”hesays,andnoneofusgetup.
Hegoesaroundourcircle,introducinghimselftoeachofusinturn.
I’msurprisedathowsofthishandiswhenweshake.
“IwantyouladiestoknowthatIneedtobeinherewithyoutheentiretime,”hesays,lookingsadaboutit.“ButIwillrespectyourconfidences.
JustpretendI’mpartofthewall.”
Weallnod,andthenhe’sgone,andnoonesaysanything.Sittinghurts,andmyjointsache.Theairintheroomgetstoothicktobreathe.Rightnow,we’reallhavingsecondthoughts,butbeforeanyonecanchangetheirminds,thedooropens,andCaptainWinslowleadsStephanieintotheroom.
She’snotwearingmakeup,butherhairisthickandglossy,anditlookslikeshe’sgotpolishonhernails.She’swearingalightblueshirtandjeans,withshacklesonherwristslockedtoachainaroundherwaist.There’salookofterrorinhereyesthatshecarefullyreplaceswithborednonchalanceasCaptainWinslowbringshercloser.
Thiswasmyidea.EverythingI’dpredictedbackinthatCampRedLakehydrotherapyroomhadcometrue.Stephaniehadn’tactuallykilledanyone,justputDaniinawheelchairandmeonacane.She’dshotoneofthefoodserviceworkersandthey’dlostaneye,butalltherestofthemurderswereSkye.
ThetwoofthemhadputalotofeffortintothewholethingbutwhereSkyewasallcoldcalculation,Stephaniedrovehimcrazybyimprovising.
She’ddonethefirstpartaccordingtoplan—befriendingChristopheVolker,lettinghimintoRedLake,tellinghimwhereAdriennelived,andthenshepushedhimoutthehayloftbecauseshethoughtitlookedmorereal.WhenIshowedupatherhouse,shedecidedtocomewithmeonawhim.ThatwasSkyeshe’dbeentalkingtoatthereststoponthewaybacktoL.A.,reassuringhimeverythingwasstillontrack.
Hismasterplanhadbeentomurdereveryonehismotherevercaredabout,toleaveherall-importantcareerbrokenintopiecesthatcouldneverberepaired,tohumiliateherinfrontofthewholeworld,butheteamedupwithanerraticpartnerwhogotherrushfromnearmissesandclosecalls.
HeprobablywouldhaveshotStephanieattheendoutofsheerfrustrationifHeatherhadn’tstoppedhimfirst.
Stephaniewouldhavebeenvictimnumbernine.
AlongtimeagoItriedtowatchoneofAdrienne’sSummerSlaughtermovies,butIturneditoffaftertwentyminuteswhenIrealizedtheyweren’tgoingtotellusaboutanyofthevictims.IrememberhowsickIfeltashumanbeingswithfamiliesanddreamswerereducedtosplattereffectswhoonlygotfirstnames.It’simportanttoremembertheirnames.
TherewasRussellThorn.
ThewomanatRedLakewholostaneyewasnamedEvaWatanabe.
JackBurrell.
BrendaJones.
MarcieStanler.
EdnaHockett.
JuliusGaw.
AmandaShepard.
RemembertheirnamesbutlettheworldforgetSkyeElliott.LetthemforgetStephanieFugate.
Stephanie’sparentsgotalawyerwhoclaimedherPTSDfromtheTennisCoachKillingsmadeheranaggressivehybristophile.ShelostherselfintheloveofaMonsterinaversionofthe“ifyoucan’tprotectyourselffrombeingkilledbythem,jointhem”philosophy.Idon’tthinkherlawyerwaswrong.Skyespenttwoyearsseducingher,groomingher,transformingherintohisperfectplaymate.Anothergirltoaddtohislistofvictims.Shegottwenty-fiveyearsforeachofthethreechargesofassaultwithadeadlyweapon,andthreeofbatterycausingseriousbodilyinjury.
She’llbeinherefortherestofherlife.
Ithoughtaboutitforalongtime,butIcouldn’tseeitanyotherway.
Technically,shemightnotfitthedescription,butnomatterhowyoulookat
it,she’sbeenvictimizedbyaMonsterandIhavearesponsibility.I’mnotleavinganyonebehind.It’swhatAdriennesaidtomeoncewhenItoldherIthoughtIdidn’tdeservetosurvive.
“That’syourvanitytalking,”shetoldme.“Youjustwanttobespecial.
Letmetellyousomething:nooneistoofargonetobebroughtback.Nooneistoolosttobefound.Noone.”
Thisprobablywon’twork.Stephaniewillresisteverythingwedo,she’llmockmyefforts,she’llfightusalltheway,butifthere’sonethingIlearnedfromAdrienneit’sthatitdoesn’tmatter.Wecan’thelpourselves.
Thisiswhatwedo.YouneverstoptryingtosaveyourSisters.
Itstillsurprisesmethateveryoneagreed.Thenagain,maybeweallneedareasontokeepseeingeachother.Maybeweallneedareasontolive.
CaptainWinslowsitsStephaniedowninafoldingchair,thendisappearstotheothersideoftheroom.Stephanie’smadeherfaceboredandblank,radiatingcontempt,alreadydeterminedtoignoreourappealstoherbetternature,alreadyopeninghermouthtosaysomethingshocking.
Ibeathertothepunch.
“Stephanie,”Isay.“WelcometotheFinalGirlSupportGroup.”
Everwonderwhathappenstothosefinalgirls?Afteralltheirplansgobellyupandalltheirweaponsfail?Aftertheirdefensescrumbleandthey’vebeenshotinthehead?Afterthey’vetrustedthewrongpeople,madethewrongchoices,andopenedthemselvesupattheworstpossiblemoments?Aftertheirlivesareruinedandthey’releftatthirty-eightyearsoldwithnothinginthebank,nokids,nolover,andnothingtotheirnamebutacoupleofghostsandahandfulofbroken-downfriends?
Iknowwhathappenstothosegirls.
Theyturnintowomen.
Andtheylive.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Theauthorwishestothankcertainindividualswhomadebigimpressionsinthemovies,withoutwhichthisbookwouldnotexist.
SummerSlaughter
AdamGoldworm(R.I.P.),Teddy,SummerSlaughterII,SummerSlaughterPartIIIin3-D,SummerSlaughterIV
StephenGrahamJones,BisectedCounselor,SummerSlaughterV
HaroldBrown,“MacheteHead”Reporter,SummerSlaughterVIIDanielPassman,EvilLawyer,SummerSlaughterVIII:TeddyGoestoWashington
PatrickChu,director,SummerSlaughterIX:TeddyZeroG
PanhandleMeathook
JoshuaBilmes,producer,PanhandleMeathook2,3,4
EddieSchneider,ManinFreezer,PanhandleMeathookBradyMcReynolds,SunbakedCadaver,PanhandleMeathookValentinaSainto,“Suzy”,PanhandleMeathook
SusanVelazquez,“Marilyn”,PanhandleMeathookDavidLitman,DeputyinBearTrap,PanhandleMeathook2
Gnomecoming
JessicaWade,producer,Gnomecoming
AlexisNixon(FrenchHorn),DanielleKeir(Tuba),FareedaBullert(Mellophone),DanielaRiedlova(Piccolo),JinYu(TimpToms),MarchingBand,Gnomecoming
ClaireZion,ScreamingGirl,GnomecomingJeanne-MarieHudson,Vice-PrincipalHunt,GnomecomingEmilyOsbourne,Wallflower,Gnomecoming
MeghaJain,Coroner,Gnomecoming
LauraCorless,StabbedbyPaintbrush,Gnomecoming
SlayBells
CatCamacho,producer,SlayBells2:HellfortheHolidays,SlayBells3:EvilElves
JuliaLloyd,Caroler,SlayBells
LukeDunlavey,LawnDartVictim,SlayBells2:HellfortheHolidaysLauraPrice,ScaryElf#1,SlayBells3:EvilElvesLydiaGittins,Cantor,SlayBells4:FestivalofFrights
DeadlyDreams
DoogieHorner,Dead-EyedPizzaMonsterwithBeard,DeadlyDreamsII:SweetScreamsAreMadeofThis
NicholasRucka,director,DeadlyDreams3:DreamQueensRoxanneBenjamin,BabyDollMonster,DeadlyDreamsIV:TheFinalFrightmare
TedGeoghegan,“Gorpus”,DeadlyDreamsIV:TheFinalFrightmare
TheBabysitterMurders
HannahKing,PsychWardNurse,TheBabysitterMurdersKristinJohnston,Candy-EatingGirlfriend,TheBabysitterMurdersNicholasScottSanburg,FuriousNeighbor,TheBabysitterMurdersMikeHickey,DeadVendingMachineRepairman,TheBabysitterMurdersII
DianaRomanova,Dr.Strumpf,TheBabysitterMurdersIICatScully,MainframeTechnician,TheBabysitterMurdersIII:SamhainKrisGilbreth,HumanSacrifice,TheBabysitterMurdersIII:SamhainEricMueller,Druid,TheBabysitterMurdersIII:Samhain
TherootsoftheslashermoviestretchbacktoAlfredHitchcock’sPsycho(1960),basedonRobertBloch’sbookofthesamename.WhileBlochstatedmanytimesthathisbookwasbasedonthereal-lifecrimesofEdGein,farmoreclippingswerefoundinhisfilesregardingWisconsin’sinfamouschildren’sentertainerandserialpoisoner,FloydScriltch.WhenHitchcockpurchasedtherightstoBloch’sbook,healsooptionedtheliferightsfromthesolesurvivorofScriltch’sinfamous“EasterBunnyMassacre,”AmandaCohen.CohenwasinstrumentalinthedetectionandcaptureofScriltchandpaidaheavypriceforherbravery.Thisbookisdedicatedtohermemory.ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
GradyHendrixisanaward-winningnovelistandscreenwriterlivinginNewYorkCity.HeistheauthorofHorrorst?r,MyBestFriend’sExorcism(whichisbeingadaptedintoafeaturefilmbyAmazonStudios),WeSoldOurSouls,andtheNewYorkTimesbestsellerTheSouthernBookClub’sGuidetoSlayingVampires(currentlybeingadaptedintoaTV
series).GradyalsoauthoredtheBramStokerAward-winningnonfictionbook,PaperbacksfromHell,ahistoryofthehorrorpaperbackboomofthe
’70sand’80s.
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CoverforTheFinalGirlSupportGroup
DocumentOutline
AlsobyGradyHendrix
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup3-D
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIV:ReturnoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup’sNewNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVI:TheNextGeneration
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVII:SonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVIII:NightoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIX:FinalGirlvs.FinalGirl
TFGSGX
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXI:BetterWatchOut!
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXII:Hellbound
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIII:TheFinalSacrifice
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIV:TheNewBlood
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXV:DreamWarriors
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVI:SeasonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVII:BrideoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVIII:CurseoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIX:FinalGirl’sRevenge
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXX:TheFinalChapter
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXI:TheFinalChapterII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXII:TheFinalNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIII:Resurrection
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIV:ANewBeginning
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
TableofContents
AlsobyGradyHendrix
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup3-D
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIV:ReturnoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroup’sNewNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVI:TheNextGeneration
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVII:SonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupVIII:NightoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupIX:FinalGirlvs.FinalGirl
TFGSGX
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXI:BetterWatchOut!
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXII:Hellbound
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIII:TheFinalSacrifice
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIV:TheNewBlood
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXV:DreamWarriors
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVI:SeasonoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVII:BrideoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXVIII:CurseoftheFinalGirls
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXIX:FinalGirl’sRevenge
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXX:TheFinalChapter
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXI:TheFinalChapterII
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXII:TheFinalNightmare
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIII:Resurrection
TheFinalGirlSupportGroupXXIV:ANewBeginning
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
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