Bible Camp Bloodbath (5 page)

11.

Joan had her arm around Martin’s. When did that happen? On the walk down through the woods, because he had carried her telescope? Or when they had found the bodies? Martin wasn’t sure. She squeezed him closer.

“We have to call for help,” Melissa said. Courtney was staring at William’s corpse. Tears streamed down her face. There were two dead bodies right there in the middle of the camp ground, Adrian and William, and William’s eyes were looking right at her. It felt like his eyes were looking right at her.

Melissa wasn’t looking at the body at all. It wouldn’t do anybody any good to get upset now. She took Courtney by the shoulder.

“Courtney,” Melissa said. “There’s a phone in the main building. We can call 911.”

“Wait,” Courtney said. “Wait. Maybe it’s a trick!” There was desperation in her voice. “How do we know it isn’t a trick?” She nudged William with her foot, but his eyes just stared blankly. “Maybe they aren’t really dead.”

She couldn’t say the words without glancing over to where Adrian’s head sat, detached from his trunk.

“There are two dead kids,” Melissa said. “We have to call 911.”

Martin reached out his own foot to nudge William’s shoulder. He didn’t know William, but he could feel fear welling up inside himself. He must have had a family somewhere. He wasn’t just a dead body in the dirt. He must have responsibilities.

“What is his mother going to do?” Martin said.

“What?” Melissa said.

“She’s going to be all alone now,” Martin said. Melissa turned to look at Martin like he’d lost his mind, but before she could say anything, they heard laughter coming from off in the woods. And then a man singing.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout,” he sang. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.” There was a long pause, then, “Something something something, washed the spider out.” It was Tony.

“Please,” Ricky cried, off in the darkness. “Please don’t hurt me.”

And then Ricky was screaming. It echoed all around them, screams getting higher- and higher-pitched, until they weren’t recognizable anymore. He kept screaming after that, too, until eventually the voice wasn’t even recognizable as human. It was like when you wrote a word over and over again until it looked alien and wrong.

* * *

Joan looked down at the dead bodies on the ground and then out at the woods, where Ricky was still screaming. Okay. This wasn’t difficult to figure out. This was simple.

“Tony is killing people,” Joan said. “He has gone crazy and he is murdering people. Melissa’s right. We have to call for help. We have to get out of here.”

“We don’t know that,” Courtney said. “It could just be a big prank.” She was still crying. She was going to be murdered, Martin thought. The one who loses control always gets murdered. She’ll run off or just fall to her knees crying at exactly the wrong time, and she won’t make it out alive.

“I hope I’m wrong,” Joan said. “But we have to act like I am right. If I’m wrong, it’s no big deal. Nobody will blame us for calling the police. But if I’m right, and we waste time trying to figure out if it’s a trick or not, it’ll just give him more time to get us.”

“Where are all the other kids?” Martin said. All of the cabins around them were dark. The boys’ cabins sat back in the woods a bit, completely in shadow, and there were no lights from the girls’ cabins up on the ridge.

“First, 911,” Melissa said. She grabbed Courtney’s arm. Courtney kept looking at William, but took a couple stumbling steps sideways as Melissa pulled her. Finally she turned and the four of them ran for the main building.

“There’s a phone at the back,” Melissa told Joan. “You and Martin go back there. Call 911, and tell them where we are. Tell them what happened.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Courtney said. The screaming outside had stopped and Martin was suddenly aware of how brightly lit they were in the hallway. They couldn’t see out at all. But anyone out there could see them.

Splitting up was very clearly a bad idea. They shouldn’t split up. It didn’t make any sense. They would split up and Tony would come back quietly and find them, one by one.

“We can’t split up,” Martin said, still holding tight to Joan.

“There’s a phone at the back by the kitchen,” Melissa said, “and the confiscated cell phones are up in Tony’s office. We’ll split into teams. Think of it logically, Martin. That gives us two chances. Even if the phone lines are cut, then the team with the cell phone can still call 911. And if the team with the cell phone gets caught, the others can call from downstairs. There’s no way he can stop us both fast enough.”

“What if the phone lines are cut, and he stops the cell phone team first?” Joan said. Melissa gave her a dirty look.

“Then we’re pooched,” Melissa said. “What would you rather do, go running into the woods like Ricky? That sounds like it worked out really well for him.”

Melissa and Courtney went upstairs and Joan led Martin straight to the kitchen. She found the biggest knife she could, a large chef’s knife, and she held it like a weapon. It was heavy and it felt satisfying in her hand. But who was she kidding? What was she going to do with that? Stick it into Tony? Joan pictured herself trying to stab somebody.

“The phone’s at the back,” Martin said.

“Grab a knife,” Joan said. “But keep it hidden. Don’t let anyone see it until it’s too late. When you take it out, you have to use it fast and as hard as you can. My father told me,” she said, “that most of the time, people try to scare somebody with a knife, and end up getting their knife taken away and used on them. The knife is a surprise. You can’t give Tony any time to react to it.” Martin picked up one of the kitchen knives, too. He made stabbing motions in the air and shook his head.

“This is weird,” he said. “This is too weird.” Joan took his hand and squeezed it. Her fingers were cold. They stood there in the dark kitchen, holding hands, and the building around them was quiet. They couldn’t hear Melissa or Courtney upstairs and there was no sound from outside. Maybe if they stayed just like this, everything would be okay. This felt safe and right, with Joan holding his hand.

But it wasn’t safe at all.

In the back office, the phone was ripped right out of the wall. The rest of the office seemed neat and tidy. Was this the last chance? Martin went over to the desk, and started pulling open drawers.

“What’re you doing?” Joan said. “We have to go find Melissa.”

“I’m looking for a pen,” Martin said.

“A pen?” Joan laughed. “Are you going to send a letter to the police?”

12.

Just before the top of the stairs, Courtney stopped. Adrian’s head sat on the top step staring at them. Blood dribbled down from the neck and onto the next step down. The head had been waiting for them, Courtney was certain. It had just been sitting here on the top step waiting patiently for them.

“Oh God,” Courtney said. “Oh God, I can’t.”

“It can’t hurt you,” Melissa said, pulling her by the arm. “Don’t do this, Courtney. We have to get those cell phones. We don’t have time to stand around crying. Come on.” But Courtney wouldn’t move. Melissa let go of her and shrugged. “Fine, you wait here and cry, then. Guard the head. I am going to go and save everybody while you finish crying.”

Melissa walked down the hallway quickly. She was angry and she didn’t know why. She should be scared. She should be crying, the way Courtney was, but all she could think were angry thoughts. What had she done to deserve this bullshit? Who did Tony think he was? She had thought he was a creep, right from the beginning. That talk he gave about accepting Jesus into your heart and the little girl being so sad she was going to miss the bonfire. It was so phony. Maybe she hadn’t known he was an axe murderer, but she had known he was wrong.

The door to Tony’s office was open and the light was on. There was no sound. Melissa peeked into the room. Tony’s office phone sat in the middle of the floor with its cut cord wrapped neatly around it. Everything else in the office was in its place, tidy.

The cell phones would be in his desk. She made her way around the couch toward the desk and there on the floor was Margaret’s body. She was small and her chest was caved in. There were dark bruises around her throat. Her eyes were closed peacefully, at least.

The floor behind the couch was covered with smashed cell phones. Shards of plastic casing, small circuit boards. Little wires. Behind her, Tony stepped out of the darkness of the hall, with the axe already swinging through the air. Melissa had begun to drop to her knee, to examine one of the smashed cell phones that looked almost whole. Her head dropped, so that her neck was safe from the axe, but it didn’t drop far enough. The blade of the axe split her skull.

With the razor blade, Tony tried to cut off Melissa’s face. He pushed the blade in behind her ear and he could feel it cutting through muscle and tendons, but it just wouldn’t peel away from the bone. He scraped along the bone underneath the eyebrow, and finally the top section of the little girl’s face came free.

But it looked fake and plastic, stretched and pulled like this. It didn’t look like a scared little girl at all. He gripped the bottom of her jaw with his fingers, and worked her mouth like a puppet.

“Tony,” Melissa said in a high-pitched voice. “Tony, I miss my friends!”

“Well, what does that have to do with me?” Tony said.

“Please go murder my friends so we can all be together in the bloody place,” Melissa said in Tony’s falsetto voice.

He left Melissa on the floor, a small pool of blood under her skull, half of her face drooping where it wasn’t properly attached anymore.

* * *

Courtney stood in silence at the top of the stairs. She couldn’t see down the hallway to where Tony’s office was, but she could hear someone coming toward her. It was Melissa. It had to be Melissa. She had a cell phone and they were going to be okay. They would call 911 and tell the operator that they were at the Bible Camp. Please send some squad cars. Then they would just have to hide until help arrived.

The footsteps were quiet and slow, which made sense. Melissa was being as quiet as she could. Courtney had stopped crying a bit. This would all be over soon. They could go home. The city had too much ambient light, but it would be so nice to set her telescope up on her balcony again. She would set up the chair and put the radio on and she would be okay. Down the hallway, one of the footsteps fell heavier. It was loud and hard, and then another fell. The footsteps were running toward her now. It was Melissa, it had to be Melissa. Courtney closed her eyes and squeezed her fists.

In his rush at the girl on the stairs, Tony’s foot kicked Adrian’s head, which went rolling and bouncing down the stairs. He lifted the axe above his head again and tried to focus on the girl.

* * *

Joan and Martin were at the top of the stairs to the first landing when Adrian’s head rolled down and hit the wall right ahead of them. Joan put her arm out to stop Martin short. Above them, on the stairs, they could hear Courtney whimpering. There was a man’s voice, too, but they couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Joan held her knife in her fist tightly.

“This is it,” she said. “He’s at the top of the stairs. We know where he is, and he doesn’t know where we are. This is our chance. He can’t attack us both at the same time. If he goes after you, I will stab him from behind. If he goes after me, you have to get him, Martin. Can I count on you?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but then Tony was there, grabbing Joan by the hair. She lifted the knife but Tony grabbed hold of her wrist, moving his hand to cover hers, so that she still held the knife tightly but he was in control. He used her hand to jab the knife into her cheek, and then again.

“Stop stabbing yourself!” Tony said. He smiled at Martin, and then made Joan stab herself in the face again. “Stop stabbing yourself!” They were small cuts, not deep. But the next jab went into her eye, and Joan let out a scream. When Tony pulled her hand and the knife away, there was no blood. But her eye began to sag out of shape.

Martin tightened his grip on his own knife. He had to help her but he couldn’t move. Joan was looking at him with her one good eye, helplessly. She struggled against Tony’s controlling hand, but it did no good. He made her lift the knife up again, and this time forced the blade into her mouth. She clamped her teeth shut, but he wedged the tip in between then, prying her mouth open enough to shove the blade in deeper. Joan struggled and Tony let go of her hair, pushing her back against the wall, and he used both hands now, shoving the knife into the back of her throat.

Blood spilled out over her chin and she struggled harder. Tony twisted the knife sharply, then twisted it the other way. He opened his hand and slammed his palm on the butt of the knife handle, driving it into her spine at the back of her throat. Joan stopped struggling. He let her slide to the floor, the knife handle jutting from her mouth. She was perfectly still, except for her left leg. Her left leg kicked a little. Then lay still. Then kicked a little.

Martin dropped his own knife and ran like hell.

13.

Tony went back up to the main building and changed into his regular clothes. He folded his wet, bloodied uniform neatly and set it on the chair by his office window. He swept up the shards of cell phone, except the bits that were in Melissa’s blood. The blood had to stay.

“Goodnight, Comet,” he said to Margaret’s lifeless body, “Goodnight, Cupid,” he said to Melissa, and he turned out the office light. Then he went down the hall and stopped beside Courtney’s body. “Goodnight, Donner,” he whispered to her. He took the stairs two at a time, stopping at the landing between floors, where Joan lay slumped against the wall and Adrian’s head sat staring into the corner. “Goodnight Blitzen!” Tony said to Joan. “Goodnight, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow.” He stopped beside beside Adrian’s head and gave it one last gentle kick. It rolled down the stairs and Tony smiled.

He locked the door behind him as he left. Then he got in his car and drove home to his wife and children, who were asleep. He climbed into bed with his wife and in the morning he made his children breakfast.

It was two days before someone drove out to the camp and found the bodies. And then it took a few more hours after that for them to realize who was missing and then to look up where he lived.

When they came for Tony, they found his wife setting the table for lunch. They were having chicken fingers and french fries. She set out the ketchup and the salt and the pepper. The children were playing in the back yard, shrieking with laughter. Suddenly, men with guns were everywhere, in the kitchen, in the back yard. Then snatching the children up into their arms, smashing in windows, kicking over tables, storming up the stairs, yelling, “Clear!” after every door they kicked in.

“Where is your husband?” one of the policemen demanded.

“Tony?” his wife said, shocked. “He just went to get some milk.”

They found Tony at the store, a carton of milk set on the counter in front of him. The police cruisers screeched into the corner store’s parking lot, and the clerk looked up. Tony put a five dollar bill on the counter between them.

“Keep the change,” Tony said.

Then the police were on him. They shoved him face down on the ground and handcuffed him behind his back, driving a knee into his spine. One of the policemen spit on him. They pulled him to his feet and started reading him his rights, but Tony just kept shaking his head.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, and everyone stopped to listen. “This is about those children I murdered, isn’t it?” He laughed. “God,” he said. “When did it become illegal to have a good time?”

* * *

The police spent a whole day photographing the camp. They had a list of the campers and it was very difficult matching names to the bodies they found, or to the parts of the bodies. The counsellors were easier. In Tony’s office the police found photocopies of the counsellors’ ID cards, along with the background checks.

Eventually they had to ask the parents to provide photographs and then they had to ask the parents to come in to verify the identities in person. Every piece of paper was taken into evidence.

In the main building, there was a downstairs office. In the top drawer of the desk there, the police found a folded note: “To Mom, From Martin.” There was a boy named Martin among the dead.

The note read, “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone. If I don’t get away, then I promise I will haunt you!”

* * *

Tony pulled Martin by the hair, dragging the boy toward the beach and the sound of waves. The air smelled like salt and the moon looked lovely up above the ocean. Martin fought, but the harder he fought, the more it felt like his hair was being torn out of his head. He grabbed at Tony’s hands, and tried to hold on.

The water was ice cold and they didn’t go out very deep before Tony stopped and let go of Martin’s hair. Tony looked around and let out a sigh.

“Look at this,” Tony said. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it? Take a minute, enjoy it.”

Martin sat in the water with the waves coming up almost to his shoulders and then rolling past him. Every wave seemed to lift him up, just a little, and carry him back away from Tony, toward land.

“Okay,” Tony said, and he took hold of Martin’s head again, and forced him down under the water. He put all his weight into it, driving Martin’s face into the sand and rocks of the beach. The salt stung inside Martin’s nose, but he couldn’t struggle with Tony on him. He thought about his mother coming home to an empty apartment and he couldn’t help it, he took a deep lungful of water. It felt terrifying. He couldn’t stop. He breathed in salt water and the stirred-up sand filled his lungs. Above him, it sounded like Tony was singing something again and he could hear the waves too, sort of, but it was all fading. He thought about his mother’s face, smiling, and he held that picture in his mind for the rest of his life.

The End