Will recalled the sight of the ruined radio on his nightstand, which had been struck by the misdirected bullet. “Kelsey…”
Kelsey popped the top off another Warsteiner. “Yeah?”
Will swallowed a lump in his throat. This wouldn’t be easy to say. “I think we should call 911.”
Kelsey gaped at him. “Are you kidding? Why, for fuck’s sake?”
Will swallowed some Warsteiner. He didn’t like beer as much as Kelsey or Trey, but liquid courage seemed absolutely necessary right now. “Because I hit her with a fucking baseball bat, man. She could have a concussion. Hell, maybe even brain damage. She could be dying right now.”
Kelsey shook his head, made an exasperated sound. “I don’t think so. You didn’t hit her that hard. That wasn’t any Babe Ruth swing, bro. And we got the bleeding to stop, right? She’s fine. And I hate to say it, man, but her health is the least of our concerns right now.”
Will glared at his friend. “Easy for you to say. She’s not your mother.”
Kelsey held the gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment, then sighed. “All right. Fair enough. But you know something, Will? I’m the guy who was attacked by his own sister. I may have killed a man to make it out of my own house alive. You’re not the only one who’s had a rough time today.”
Will’s anger evaporated. His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”
Kelsey shrugged. “It’s okay. Look, we need to be thinking about our next step, figure out a plan of action before this special assembly you say your mom told you about.”
“I think she was serious about that. You should have seen her when she was talking about it.” Will shuddered at the memory of his mom’s rapt, almost aroused expression. “My God, Kelsey. They’re really gonna do it. Kill hundreds of teenagers. Our friends.”
“Oh, I believe you. I’d believe damn near anything at this point. But we’re gonna stop them. Somehow.”
“Right.” Will swallowed. “Somehow.”
Somehow.
The word sounded empty to his ears. Hollow and unconvincing.
Kelsey scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. “Look. We can’t stay here all night. Whatever’s going on, your parents are involved. Myra’s people knew enough to get after us in the first place, so I kinda have to believe somebody will come here sooner or later to check shit out. It’d be a good idea to be gone by then.”
Will made a vague sound of assent. He knew Kelsey was right, but he was still having a hard time getting his head around the notion that they had unwittingly uncovered a vast occult conspiracy. It seemed too fantastic, too much like the plot of one of Jake McAllister’s lurid novels, to believe. Yet, the proof was all around him. And it was intimidating. How could two high school kids hope to combat forces so powerful?
Will looked Kelsey in the eye. “We are fucked, you know that? We are fucking fucked.”
Kelsey chuckled. “I believe that’s what Mr. Brennaman would call a ‘defeatist attitude.’ Hey, we’re the good guys. We can’t lose. It’s like we’re in a horror movie, right? And in horror movies good always triumphs over evil some kinda way or other.” His expression turned uncertain. “Right?”
“No.”
Kelsey frowned. “Anyway, that’s sort of beside the point. What we’ve-”
“The Blair Witch Project?”
“Huh? What about the fucking Blair Witch Project?”
“Evil triumphed, dude.”
“Okay, but-”
“Night of the Living Dead.”
“That’s zombies, man. This is not a living-dead situation.”
“But that black dude, the hero, that redneck fuck shot him in the head in the end.”
“Again, that’s-”
Will had turned pale by now. His hands shook slightly. “Halloween. Michael Myers gets shot six fucking times with a.357 Magnum and falls off a balcony. Motherfucker gets up and walks away. The End, fade to black.”
Kelsey put a hand to his left temple. He was starting to get a headache. “Right, but-”
“And Jason Voorhees, you can’t kill that guy at all. Not permanently. He always comes back. Evil always comes-”
“STOP!”
Will blinked. “Okay.”
Kelsey picked up his beer again. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I think I may be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”
“You and me both, man. Listen, I’ve got no idea how to solve this clusterfuck we’re in, but I may know something. I’ve detected a pattern.”
Will cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yep. It’s the women.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it.” Kelsey swigged beer. He started to pace, moving from one end of the kitchen to the other and back again. The beer bottle moved in his hands, punctuating his thoughts. “Imagine a chain. Myra’s the lead link, she’s the focal point. She’s made our boy Trey her slave. Mrs. Cheever is another link in the chain, a conduit of information. What do they both have in common? You guessed it, they’re women. Then there’s my sister, Melissa. She tried to kill me. Again, she’s a woman. To state the fucking obvious. That guy in the hood, I’m not sure what the deal with him is, but he looked like a subordinate. It’s the women. They’re the leaders of this thing, this whatever-it-is, this black magic coven, this satanic club for girls, what-the-fuck-ever. Need more evidence? Look at your mother. After Mrs. Cheever blabbed to her, she set out to kill you. And it’s real obvious your dad is just another slave. Maybe if you dig around in his office, you’ll find a black hood.”
Kelsey ceased pacing. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing Will. He needed a moment to catch his breath. Then he said, “So…what do you think?”
Will swallowed some beer. “I don’t know. This is all so…weird.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the understatement of the motherfuckin’ century.”
Will eyed the half-empty bottle of Warsteiner in his hand. He considered taking another sip, but he set it down without drinking. He was calmer now, thanks in part to the alcohol, but he wanted to keep a clear head.
He looked at Kelsey. “You should slow down on the beer. If more men in black hoods show up, or more demon women, whatever, you don’t want to be fucked up.”
Kelsey glanced at the almost empty bottled in his hand. “Good point.”
He dumped out the rest in the kitchen sink. “Wish I’d thought of that a beer or two back. I’m feeling a little light-headed. Got any soda?”
Will opened the refrigerator, took out two cans of Dr Pepper, and passed one to Kelsey. He popped the tab on his and took a swig. He chugged down half the can.
“Do you think it’s all the women in Rockville?” Will asked. “That would mean thousands of them. Shit, they can’t all be involved. Can they? Every mother? Every sister? Every adult female? Every little girl?”
Kelsey shook his head. “No. Of course not. I don’t think so. I mean, that doesn’t sound…feasible. But let’s say there’s a large number involved. The fact that both your mother and my sister just happen to be involved in this points to a large-scale operation. I don’t believe in coincidence. Still, I’m guessing Myra’s followers have to be, at most, in the hundreds, not thousands. And consider this-she’s actively disliked by a large percentage of the chicks at Rockville High.”
Will found himself nodding along as Kelsey spoke. “Cindy Wells.”