Page 24 of Wrong Turn

“Jeeze, okay,” Summer grumbles.

“Good girl,” Amber replies, winking, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, bitch. You’re about to cut down the bloody piñata that’s leaking into your SUV.” Fuck, Summer’s got such a sharp tongue, it makes my cock twitch. Maybe I won’t kill her. Can I keep them both? I’m sure Amber could get Summer to submit, they’re the closest ones out of this little group.

“What a way to put that, Summer,” Fallon complains. Sometimes I think the other two forget she exists. She’s so quiet, small, and insignificant. I’ve pretty much forgotten about her since that first night. I’m not sure what drew me to her in the beginning, but it’s not there anymore.

Summer shrugs, clearly unbothered by Fallon’s moral compass. Amber tells Fallon to go inside, get the bucket, and fill it with hot water and bleach. “I’ll clean up the best I can, then we can get the fuck out of here. If Savannah isn’t back by then, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She’s planning to clean up my masterpiece then peace the fuck out of my life? No way in hell will I allow that to happen. I pull the rifle off my back and aim low, looking through the scope as it passes over each one of the girls. Summer taps Fallon on the shoulder, and they both turn, heading towards the back of the cabin.

Amber moves across the yard to the passenger side of the SUV, opening the door, and pulling her keys out of the ignition. I can see her wondering who took them, and how. It’s simply titillating watching her mind work.

She slips the keys into the pocket of her black joggers, and I watch through the scope of my rifle as she climbs into the SUV, crouching and moving around until she’s standing on the centre console.

Her pretty, pissed-off face pops out through the sunroof, bobbing and weaving to avoid getting hit by the corpse as the force of the howling wind increases. Amber’s fists clench as herbrain works to form a plan, not wanting to get any dirtier than necessary during this task.

Using the roof rack as a hand hold, she works her body up and out of the vehicle, crawling onto the roof, trying to avoid the putrid blood pool. She gets to her feet, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a different, rather impressive knife. Flicking the blade out from where it’s concealed inside the handle, I watch her lips move, “I'm going to fucking kill him,” she says to herself.Oh, are you now? You’re going to kill me? I don’t think so, sweet thing.

Straining and reaching on her tippy toes, she tries to grab hold of the rope without getting covered in anymore gore, but it’s useless. “Fucking asshole!” she shrieks.Who? Me? A fucking asshole? Yeah, I suppose I am.I have to use my hand to muffle the sound of my laughter as I witness the exact moment she snaps.

Surrendering to her fate, Amber places the knife handle between her teeth. She grabs ahold of Bridget’s knee, pulling the body lower. She works her way towards her dead friend’s ankle, climbing her way up the calf, gritting her teeth against the knife handle in her mouth.

Blood is smeared across her exposed chest, and as a strap from her tank top slips off her shoulder, I think my heart explodes. She’s not wearing a bra, having woken up and come right outside. Was she wearing one last night? I can’t remember, I was too entranced by the sight of her finger fucking her wet cunt.

She has Bridget’s ankle in her grasp now as she struggles to hold on against the weight of the tree branch wanting to snap back up into place. With one more pull, she gets a hold of the rope. A victorious smile spreads across her face after she retrieves the knife from her mouth with her free hand.

I watch her raise the knife to the rope as I line up my aim.

Bang!

The sharp shot cracks through the silence, my bullet meeting its mark perfectly. The rear driver’s side tire pops, and wheezes out the remaining air, startling Amber enough that she drops her grip on the rope. The branch retracts, and Bridget’s body bounces from the movement. It slams into Amber’s chest, covering her in more repugnant smelling fluids. She loses her footing, falling back, and landing on her ass in a puddle of coagulated blood. “UGH, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” she screams, and I laugh this time, loud enough for her to hear it.

Her eyes shoot to the bush I’m hiding in, and I wonder if she can see me or the glare off my scope. She smiles, returning to a standing position, knife clenched tightly in her right hand. I’m sure she’s about to launch herself off the roof of that vehicle, and barrel right for me with the force of a jet engine. But just as she’s about to, Summer and Fallon swing open the front door.

“Oh my fucking gods, Amber. What was that? Are you okay?” Fallon wails, and it’s immediately annoying. The urge to take her out right now with a bullet between the eyes is strong, but I want to pop her stupid cherry first.

“How are you not fucking done yet?” Summer chides, eyebrow raised.

Amber scowls. “Want to come help a bitch out?”

“Nah,” Summer replies as Fallon shakes her head from side to side.

“Then shut the fuck up,” Amber growls in reply. “And where’s my bucket?” she snaps. Fallon tucks her tail between her legs, retreating back inside. Summer and Amber just stare at each other. I lock Summer in my sights, her eyes dart in my direction. It’s a fraction of a second, and if I wasn’t watching her, I’d have missed it.

Pulling back, I observe them, watching as Amber slightly shakes her head. Summer flips her off, turns toward me, flips meoff with both fingers, then goes back inside, shutting the door behind her. What the fuck? Amber might know where I am, but there’s no way Summer could know.

Amber grabs a hold of Bridget’s body again, surprising the fuck out of me as she plants her boot between the corpses legs. She heaves herself up the body, grabbing onto the rope with one hand and cutting the line below her grasp with the other hand. She hangs onto the rope as it bounces her around, now one body lighter. Bridget’s corpse is in full rigor mortis, and the sound of it cracking and breaking unnaturally as it tumbles to the ground rips through the silence.

Amber beams a smile in my direction as she drops back down to the roof of the SUV. I shoot out the front driver’s side tire, effectively destroying any chance they have at leaving. She may have held onto hope because she had a spare tire, but I guarantee she doesn’t have two.

Her hand slips below her waistband as she stares me down. Are you going to put on another show for me, sweet little psycho? When her hand reemerges from her loose fitting joggers, she’s brandishing another pistol. How many guns does she have? Was it strapped to her thigh? Why is that so fucking hot?

Her eyes scan the foliage, looking for me, no doubt. I hold my breath, forcing the elation I’m feeling away. I don’t want to get shot, but I can’t deny I want her to hunt me. She raises the gun, only off the mark by a fraction of an inch, I’d guess. Fuck, am I going to get shot?

I leave my gun propped in the dirt, slowly moving back and to the side. In the opposite direction of her sweeping gaze. The wind hides my movements in the dirt, but as the clouds part, the glare of the sun beaming off my scope lights up the area.

Shit.

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