Turning as far as he could, he saw the handle of the corkscrew protruding from his leg. Ellie ripped it out and stabbed his other leg. Oliver screamed and kicked, hitting her in the face with the heel of his boot, and felt something crunch. Ellie cupped her nose with an animalistic growl, giving him enough time to open the opposite car door and tumble to the ground, head first, like a child falling down a slide. The corkscrew remained in his leg and he instinctively pulled it out and dropped it in the mud.
“You fucking bitch! You weren’t even that good a lay!”
He supported himself against the house as he tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he put weight on his left leg, it collapsed in pain. He tried the right. Even leaning was too much.
Ellie was coming for him, squeezing her thin body between the car and the dumpster. He found a rock on the ground and hurled it through the nearest window of the house. The glass shattered and he broke out the rest with his elbow and tried to hoist himself through. Hands grabbed him, helping, but when Lorna’s face appeared, the shock caused him to let go.
“What the fuck?”
“Give me your hands!” she shouted.
With a shout of pain, Oliver obeyed and forced weight onto his feet so he could push himself up through the high window. Something pulled him from below. Ellie had latched on and was dragging him down. He wanted to kick but couldn’t get his leg free.
“Don’t let go,” he said to Lorna. “Don’t let go.”
Lorna tugged at his arms, regaining ground lost to Ellie. His chest rested on the sharp edge of the windowsill, but he was almost there. A little farther and his center of gravity would tip him into the house. Lorna removed one hand, reached into his shirt.
“Lorna.”
She removed the diary. Oliver met her eyes. He knew what she was about to do, but he didn’t want to believe it. She would help him. Someone always helped him.
“Lorna. Please.”
She let go.
Maeve
16 hours prior
The tire iron struck the back of Hollis’s head with a sickening thwack. Whatever he’d been about to say never left his lips. One moment his eyes had been hazy and pained. The next they were lifeless. Maeve hadn’t known the transition could be that quick. The tire iron trembled in Lorna’s hand as the rest of his body hesitated, a belated shutdown of the system, like a computer powering down. Then he fell face down in the mud. Maeve imagined him breathing mud into his lungs, then blinked and remembered that wouldn’t be a problem. Hollis wasn’t breathing.
“We have to get him back to the house.”
Maeve wasn’t sure who had spoken, but she tasted rain on her tongue and realized it had been her.
“We have to get him back to the house,” she repeated. “Before Oliver and Ellie see him. Lorna? Lorna.”
Lorna finally looked up when Maeve touched her arm.
“This was step one, remember? We did it. Step one.”
“We did it,” Lorna said.
“Step one. For Callum.”
“For Callum,” Lorna repeated.
Together they looked down at Hollis’s body. If only it could sink into the mud, Maeve had thought. Sink and disappear into the earth.
“We have to go through with the rest of it now, don’t we?” Lorna asked. “It can’t end here.”
Maeve placed her hand on Lorna’s shoulder. “Final girls, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” Lorna whispered.
“Don’t be.”
“Hm?” Lorna looked up.
“You said you were sorry. Don’t be. We owe this to Callum.”
“Right.” Lorna nodded and tucked the tire iron into her jacket. Then they dragged Hollis together, carrying him back to the house through the conservatory and into the study, where they were almost caught by Ellie. They’d had just enough time to hide behind the bar with Hollis’s body as Ellie came in and fixed herself a drink. They hid right beneath her among clean glasses and bottles of tonic water, lying perfectly still on the rubber mats, Hollis between them, as she mumbled to herself. Maeve thought then that they were done. That Ellie would come behind the bar for a drink, or even gaze over the side, and spot them there. That months of careful planning would be over in an instant. Ruined, as so many things were, by Hunt the Cunt. But then Ellie walked into the conservatory and out again, leaving the study, ignorant of their presence. They hadn’t been caught, and it had been that giddy exhalation that had pumped Maeve full of adrenaline and made her think they could do this after all.
Lorna, though, remained grim as they continued their journey upstairs. A reflection of the sullen, moody girl Maeve had first met decades ago. Maeve could see the doubts written across her face, and she had no words to make Lorna feel better. They positioned Hollis on the bed and shoved the bloody tire iron underneath it.
“Okay, okay,” Maeve had sighed, looking everywhere but at Hollis’s body. “What else do we have to do? I have to go fuck up the cars. You have to finish double-checking the other rooms. Caskie did a good job with Hollis’s. God, I feel like I’m actually there. I can’t believe that I saved that many pictures of Caldwell Street. Do you think I’ll be able to get them back?”
Lorna remained silent, staring at Hollis’s body. Maeve accidentally glanced at Hollis again and cringed, tasting vomit at the back of her throat.
“It was his fault as much as the others. All those drinks, remember? It’s like you said. Hollis said he’d keep an eye on Callum. He didn’t. Let’s finish up and get to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“You’re right.” Lorna nodded. “This is what I wanted. This is what I planned for. What we planned for.” She squeezed Maeve’s hand. But as Maeve turned to lead Lorna from the room, ready to leave Hollis until they would “discover” him tomorrow, Lorna pulled away and returned to the body. Maeve thought she was praying over him until she reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out: a small notebook. She started flipping through it.
“What’s that?” Maeve asked.
Lorna paused, reading something. Her eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply. She tore out pages, ripped them in half. Then crossed to the room and hoisted the window.
“Shh!” Maeve hissed as the window creaked. “Lorna!”
She tossed paper down toward the dumpster below.
Maeve ran across the room and grabbed Lorna’s wrist. “What are you doing? Lorna? Lorna!”
Lorna shuddered, her body relaxed, but she remained at the window, watching the pieces of paper disappearing into the darkness below.
“Just in case Oliver or Ellie decide to search the body. They don’t need to find Hollis’s notebook.”
“You could’ve just burned them. What if Oliver or Ellie heard that?”
“Sorry.” Lorna left the window open but drew the curtain. “I wasn’t thinking. I just . . . wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”
“And that’s why we both need to get some rest. Come on. Let’s go do what we need to do.” Maeve sighed and took one last look at the room before flicking off the light.
Present
Once they’d killed Hollis, Maeve thought it would be easy. Dragging his body through the house, positioning it on the sofa upstairs. She had made it through these actions without being sick. But the violence of that act had been hidden by the night. Two quick hits with a tire iron, and it had been over.