Party Games (19 page)

“Ohhhh.” I moaned again as the putrid odor of death floated over me. I started to gag. The smell was thick and sour and … and … I held my breath and waited for my stomach to stop heaving.

Who were these poor people who ended up together at the bottom of this deep hole in a stinking jumble of bones? Were these the Fear family servants who were killed in that bizarre hunting party? Could that story possibly be true? Could anyone be so cruel to shoot their servants for a sport and dump their bodies in a pit in the woods?

I trembled in horror and tried not to think of the people whose remains I was standing on. Tried to keep my eyes on the small rectangle of moonlight above me.

Brendan. Where are you, Brendan? Are you okay?

Brendan was a Fear. Did he know about this burial pit? Did he know that the horrifying stories about his ancestors were
true
?

I didn't want to think about that. I just wanted to know that Brendan was safe and alive. I just wanted him to be alive.

I'd heard the rifle shots and the words of the gunmen:

“We got the boy. Now let's get the girl.”

I leaned my back against the pit wall and listened. Had the two gunmen heard my scream when I discovered the bones? I could hear only the rush of the wind above me. So far, they hadn't found me. But they had to be nearby.

I took a few steps. The bones crunched under my shoes. A skull rolled toward the dirt wall. The moonlight dimmed for a few seconds, then returned.

I knew I had to find a way out of the pit. The walls rose up at least three or four feet above my head.

I dug my hands into the soft dirt wall. Could I climb up the side?

I suddenly pictured the rock-climbing wall at the Shadyside Mall. Beth was the timid one in the family—except when it came to that climbing wall. She loved it. She was so sure-footed and confident and strong. I never could keep up with her.

But could I do it now? Could I pretend I was on the rock-climbing wall and pull myself up?

I had to try.

I gazed up at the smooth dirt.

No way. No way. No way the soft mud would hold my weight. The mud would crumble off, and I'd slide back down onto the floor of bones.

Bones.

Yes. Bones.

I suddenly knew I had no choice. There was only one way out of this disgusting, putrid hole.

I bent over and grabbed a leg bone and shoved it against the dirt wall. I swept three or four more bones into my arms and piled them on top of the first one.

The bones were cracked and caked with mud. Many of the skulls were crawling with insects. Tiny white worms climbed in and out of the nostril holes.

My stomach started to lurch again. I tried to hold my breath to keep the smell from making me sick. But I
had
to breathe. I knew the smell would linger with me, stay on my clothes and my skin.

I tried not to think about that. I had a mission now. A plan. A plan to pile the bones up against the side of the pit. To use them to climb to the top and escape.

I lifted two rib cages from the floor and pushed them on top of the pile. I tossed a skull to the side and grabbed a few more leg bones. I needed to pile them three or four feet high. That would be enough for me to climb up and grab the ground at the top of the pit. Once up there, I was sure I could pull myself out.

I decided my bone pile was high enough. I stepped onto the bones at the bottom of the pile, reached up, grabbed bones above my shoulders with both hands … leaned forward and tugged myself up.

“Whoa! Nooooo!” The bones made a heavy clattering sound as they slid out from under me. I toppled back to the pit floor, landing facedown between two skulls. I lay there, sprawled on my stomach, breathing hard for a few seconds. Sharp bones dug into my stomach.

You can do this, Rachel.

If those men find you down here … they'll kill you and leave you in this pit.

My skeleton will join the others.

The thought made my breath catch in my throat.

I forced myself to breathe. Then I began shoving bones back against the wall. I tossed them and rolled them and piled them up again. Working feverishly, I jammed rib bones on top of leg bones, tucking them in, trying to make my bone ladder more sturdy.

After I'd piled the bones three or four feet high, I began scooping up mud in both hands, spreading mud over the bones, like cement. I patted the mud tight in the bones, smoothed the bones with it, scooped more mud, hoping it might hold the bones together beneath me.

Then I took a deep, shuddering breath and again began the sickening climb.

You can do this, Rachel.

Fat black bugs scuttled over my hands. I brushed them away as I grabbed and climbed, digging my shoes into the bones beneath me.

The bones trembled beneath me. I heard a clattering sound. The bone ladder began to slide apart.

My head pressed against the dirt wall, I made a wild grab for the ground at the top. My hands slid back. I started to fall.

I dug my fingers into the dirt. “Yesss!” I hoisted myself up, my legs frantically bicycling against the pit wall. Hoisted myself … pulled … and hurtled like a raging animal out of the disgusting pit and onto the solid ground above it.

I hugged the ground, breathing so hard I thought my chest would explode. I knew I couldn't stay there. I knew I didn't have much time. The kidnappers had to be nearby.

I forced myself to my knees, brushing fat black bugs off my arms, off my clothes. I stood up, my legs shaky, my shoes bringing up clumps of mud.

Silence all around. Even the wind had stopped. Where was Brendan? Where were the two gunmen who were hunting me?

I'd lost all sense of direction. The moon had disappeared behind clouds again. I couldn't tell which way led to the house and which to the water. But, my head spinning, my throat aching, I started to move anyway.

I walked away from the pit, eager to leave it far behind. Into the trees, brushing away tall weeds and saplings as I moved. My legs felt too shaky to run. But I kept up a steady pace. Walked until I found a dirt path that wound through the tall trees, black against an even blacker sky.

I walked with all my senses alert, listening for sounds of my pursuers, my eyes scanning the darkness for any movement. The dirt crunched under my shoes. Despite the cold air, I kept mopping sweat off my forehead with the back of one hand.

My heart started to pound when a broad stretch of gray opened before me. I realized I had come to the end of the trees. Squinting hard, I could see a wide patch of tall grass, waving first one direction, then the other in the swirling wind.

The wind gusts grew stronger. The air suddenly felt heavy and wet.

I stepped away from the forest of trees, onto the sweeping grassland. And almost cried out for joy when I saw the water. Yes. The lake. Low, purple waves lapping at the grassy shore, such a soft and soothing sound.

The lake. I'd reached the lake. Mac's canoe. The boat the gunmen came over on. They had to be at the dock.

I can escape. I can get back to town and get help for Brendan—and for the other kids.

Shielding my eyes with one hand, I gazed down the shore and saw the dock jutting out into the lake. Yes. I'd reached the dock, stretching over the water like a huge dark insect. Squinting hard, the cold wind blowing against my burning face, I stared at it.

And then I let out a low moan.

The dock stood empty.

No canoe.

No boat.

No escape.

 

37.

WET

 

I stared at the dock, as if willing a boat to appear. The tall grass tilted around me in the steady rush of swirling wind. The only other sound was the gentle splash of the dark waves against the dock pilings.

I thought I heard something. I sucked in a mouthful of air. I spun around. Away from the water. Squinted into the trees. No. No one there.

You're alone here, Rachel. What are you going to do next?

A strange feeling of calmness had fallen over me. I realized that I could take only so much fear, feel only so much panic. And then a weird feeling of numbness made me let out a long, weary sigh.

I started to breathe normally. I tucked my hands into my pockets. I stopped trembling. I turned back to the dock.

So okay. I couldn't escape the island by boat. A new plan was definitely needed.

What are you going to do, Rachel?

My brain was spinning. I could almost hear the gears going around. I knew I didn't have many choices. I could wait here near the dock, just in case the servants' boat was really returning as Brendan said it would.

I could go back to the house. Maybe I could set the kids in the basement free. Then we'd outnumber the gunmen and …

No. That was stupid. And dangerous.

What other choices did I have? I could hide in the woods …

The strange calm I felt quickly began to dissolve. I thought about Brendan. Had they killed him? Did they really plan to kill me?

The
whoosh whoosh whoosh
of footsteps over the tall grass came so fast, I didn't have time to think.

They were coming. Nowhere to hide here. The tall grass wouldn't hide me. No way to slip into the shadows of the dock.

The running footsteps grew louder.

My chest felt about to explode. My head throbbed with panic. I glanced all around.

I had to hide—or else I was dead.

I lurched forward and stepped into the water. I had my eyes on the log pilings that held up the dock. If I could slip behind them …

So cold! Oh, so cold. The shock of the cold water made it hard to move.

I can't do this. My teeth are chattering already.

My shoes felt so heavy on the sandy lake floor. I leaned forward—strained against the cold—and forced myself to move. In seconds, the frozen water was up to my knees. My whole body shivered.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” The icy cold water made me moan out loud.

I reached the pilings. Wrapped my arms around one of the tall logs. Swung myself behind it.

The low waves bobbed, rising to my shoulders. I held onto the dark logs. Pressed myself behind them.

I'm out of sight here. But I'm going to freeze to death in a minute or two. Or drown.

I held my breath, trying to stop my body from shuddering. Water filled my shoes, soaked my clothing, holding me down. A tall wave sent water sweeping up to my chin.

Water splashed into my throat. Thick and icy cold. I started to choke. I clung to the wet, slippery log. Struggling to breathe, I gagged, then spit out water and shut my eyes against another wave.

Were the two men on the shore? Had they seen me hide here?

I couldn't hear them over the roar and splash of the waves against the pilings.

Holding tightly to the log, I peered out. Turned myself so I could see the shore.

Water ran down my eyes. I tried to blink it away.

I'm going to die here. I'm going to freeze to death.

“Rachel—” A hoarse voice called.

Huh?

They've found me. They've got me.

I turned. I leaned my head and peeked out from behind the pilings. And gasped in surprise.

“Mac? You're alive? Mac? Is it really you?”

 

38.

HELP

 

His hair was wind-blown, wild about his head. His eyes were wide, intense.

He nodded. “I'm alive.”

He moved to the water's edge. I reached out my hands. I let him pull me from the lake.

My clothes were soaked. Water ran down my face. I couldn't stop shivering. But I stared at him in disbelief. “I-I thought…” I stammered.

“You thought I was shot?” He shook his head. “No. I wasn't hit.” He tried to brush his hair down with both hands.

“I … saw you go down,” I stammered.

“I wasn't shot. I faked it,” he said. “I wanted to give you and Brendan a chance to escape. The bullet hit the wall. It didn't even come close to me.”

I didn't know what to say. Seeing Mac was like seeing a ghost. More like seeing Patti, Kerry, and Eric alive again. Only Mac wasn't playing a game. And the rifle the tall gunman fired was real.

He tugged off his leather jacket and wrapped it around my trembling shoulders.

“Mac … How did you escape? How did you find me?”

“They both ran out,” he said, his eyes still locked on mine. “They went after you and Brendan. I waited till they were gone. Then I took off. I figured…” His voice trailed off.

“You were so brave in there,” I said. “You came running at them. I thought … I thought you were crazy. But…”

Mac finally lifted his gaze. He turned and glanced behind him. “We have to hurry, Rachel. Follow me.”

“Follow you? Where?”

He motioned up the shore. Above us, the moon reappeared. Mac's eyes glinted like silver in the sudden light. “Come on,” he whispered. “There's no time. I have a canoe, Rachel.”

He started to trot through the tall grass, following the shoreline. “I hid it on the other side. Away from the dock. Hurry.”

I hesitated.
Should I follow him? What about Brendan?

If I got back to town, I could get the Shadyside police. I could rescue Brendan and the kids in the basement

Mac motioned to me impatiently. “Come on. Move. Let's go. I'll get you off this island.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I spoke the words in a trembling whisper.
Was I really getting out of this nightmare alive?

Leaning into the wind, I followed Mac across the grass. Our shadows were long under the moonlight, like fingers stretching out in front of us. We followed the curve of the island. Slender trees poked along the waterline, leaning forward as if trying to escape the island, too.

Another sharp curve found us back in the woods. Silvery moonlight darted in and out, making it all seem unreal, making the trees appear to pop in and out.