Double Date (13 page)

Was it just the wind battering him?

“You
did
talk to me about killing Bree—didn't you?” he blurted out.

Samantha turned to him with a devilish grin, “I have it all worked out,” she said, her eyes flashing. “She won't know what hit her.”

B
obby shut his eyes. Is this really happening? he wondered.

The car bumped along under the thickening canopy of trees. Then it jerked to a stop. Bobby opened his eyes. He saw the cabin, hidden in shadow.

The tall, old trees blanketed the sky, making it nearly as dark as night. Lost in his confused thoughts, Bobby didn't move. He suddenly felt Samantha squeeze his arm.

He raised his eyes to her. Her black hair was wild around her face. The wind had reddened her cheeks. “Let's go inside,” she said softly. “We have to talk.”

He nodded. “Yeah. We really have to.”

He climbed out of the car and started to make his way over the wet grass to the cabin. He took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and sweet. He saw thousands of tiny white gnats dancing in a slender shaft of orange sunlight.

He heard the car door open, then slam shut.
Samantha must have forgotten something in the car, he thought. He watched a chipmunk scampering along a fallen tree trunk. “Samantha?” He turned to the car—in time to see her lift an empty Coke bottle.

“Samantha? Hey!”

He didn't have time to duck.

She hit him over the head with the bottle.

The sound it made was only a dull
thud.

But the pain shot through Bobby's body as if a bomb had exploded in his head.

Everything went bright white.

Then the blackest black.

T
he harsh red swirls of light faded to pink, then white. Light filtered in, misty and gray. Purple clouds floated in a bubbling red sky.

Bobby opened his eyes.

The pain, the throbbing pain in his head, forced him to shut them again.

Eyes closed, he tried to stand up. Something held him back.

He tried to raise his arms. Something held them down.

I'm paralyzed, he realized, beginning to think clearly.

She paralyzed me,

He forced his eyes open. He uttered a soft moan.

The gray mist lifted. The cabin room came slowly into focus.

I'm sitting up, he realized. Again he tried to stand. Again something restrained him.

I'm sitting in a chair. I'm tied up. I'm tied to the chair.

He struggled to kick his feet. They were tied too.

My hands and feet. Tied. Tied to this wooden chair.

“Hey!” He managed to choke out a cry.

Is that really my voice? So thin, so weak?

He lowered his head. The throbbing pain lightened a little when he lowered his head.

“Oh.” He saw his bare knees. His jeans were gone. So were his socks and sneakers.

He was tied to the chair, in his T-shirt and striped boxer shorts.

A low fire crackled in the narrow fireplace. He stared across the room at it. My jeans? Yes. His jeans were burning in the fireplace.

Samantha stood beside the fireplace, her arms crossed in front of her. Her green eyes caught the glow of the small fire.

“Samantha—why?” Bobby choked out.

“I'm not Samantha,” she said softly. Keeping her arms crossed, she took a couple of steps toward him. “I'm Jennilynn.”

Bobby shook his head. The pain that shot through his body made him cry out. “No! You're not. There
is
no Jennilynn!” he shouted. “Stop lying to me, Samantha!”

“Is that what they told you?” she asked, her eyes flashing with anger. “Did they tell you I don't exist?” She uttered a cry of disgust. “My sweet sisters would
love
to believe I don't exist,” she told him, practically spitting the words.”

“Stop—please!” Bobby begged.

“I'm the bad one!” she continued heatedly, ignoring
his plea. “I'm the dangerous one, the one they sent away. They pretend I don't exist. But I'm real, Bobby. I'm real.”

“Okay. You're real,” Bobby said, staring up into her angry face. “I'm sorry. I didn't know. I—”

“I'm the one with the tattoo!” she cried, revealing the blue butterfly. “I was the one in the science lab—not Samantha or Bree! Do you really think those two pitiful wimps would ever have the nerve to get a tattoo? No way! Only Jennilynn, only the
bad
sister would do that!”

“Okay. I get it,” Bobby replied softly. The pain in his head had started to fade. He was starting to see clearly, to think clearly. Staring across the room, he saw his jeans smoldering in the fireplace.

“Let me go now,” he pleaded, staring into her cold, narrowed eyes. “Let me go, Jennilynn. I haven't done anything to you!”

She scowled and stepped back to the fireplace. “My two pretty sisters—they like you soooo much,” she said, rolling her eyes. She stabbed at the smoking remains of the jeans with the iron poker. “Why should they be happy?”

“But, listen to me—” Bobby started.

“Why?” she cried. “I don't want them to be happy. So—” She raised the heavy poker and pointed it at him. “So, they have to say goodbye to you.”

An evil smile crossed her face. “Goodbye,” she chanted. “Goodbye, Bobby.”

“Jennilynn—wait!” he pleaded. “What are you going to do?”

She set the poker down without replying. She stepped behind him.

He struggled to turn in the chair, to see what she was about to do.

But he was tied too tightly.

Suddenly he felt something wet on his hair. Wet and thick.

It ran down the sides of his head, down his cheeks.

He felt it on his shoulders now.

“Jennilynn—what are you doing? What is it?” he demanded shrilly.

She came around in front of him, carrying a large metal can in both hands.

“It's honey, honey,” she whispered, smiling merrily at him.

She tilted the can up and let the thick yellow honey ooze down onto his lap. She poured it down his legs.

The sweet smell invaded his nostrils. The sticky liquid rolled down his forehead. He blinked to keep it out of his eyes.

“No, please!” He twisted hard in the chair, struggled to tear free, to kick out at her. But the ropes were too tight. He couldn't move.

Humming to herself, she poured it onto his bare feet. “There. All covered,” she said softly, standing up and flashing him another smile. “Aren't you the
sweetest
thing?”

Panic tightened Bobby's chest. “What—what are you going to do?” he managed to cry.

Then, on the floor in front of the doorway, he noticed the glass case of red ants.

“
O
h seen them,” Jennilynn said with mock sadness. “I'm disappointed. I wanted the cannibal ants to be a surprise.”

“How—how did you—” Bobby gasped. “I mean—you're not going to—”

She set the honey can down and stood in front of him, arms at her waist, admiring her work. “My sister's science project is turning out to be more useful than she ever imagined!”

“Jennilynn—don't!” Bobby protested in a trembling voice.

She laughed as she headed over to the doorway and picked up the glass case. “But, Bobby, I brought the little guys all the way out here. And they must be hungry, don't you think?”

Bobby squirmed and strained against the ropes. The sticky honey oozed over his entire body. Every part of him itched. But he ignored the itching as he
watched her carry the glass case closer, close enough to see the hundreds of red ants swarming inside.

“Ants like honey, I think,” Jennilynn said cheerily.

“No, please! No!”

She lifted off the glass top and set it on the cabin floor. Then she squatted on her knees in front of Bobby.

“Please, Jennilynn! Please don't!”

Holding it with both hands, she tilted the case.

Bending his head down, Bobby gaped in horror as the red ants flooded onto his feet.

Jennilynn raised the glass case a bit and poured more ants onto his legs.

“Stop! Please!” he shrieked.

She raised the case higher still to empty it on his shoulders and hair.

“Bobby, you're completely covered!” she cried in mock surprise. “Oh, boy! Look at them go for that honey!”

A thousand pinpricks of pain made Bobby squirm in agony.

“They're biting me! Help me, Jennilynn!” Bobby begged. “Please! They're
biting
me!”

The ants swarmed over Bobby's body, stuck to him in the thick honey.

“Please—help me! It hurts so much!” Bobby cried.

“Try screaming,” Jennilynn advised coldly. She set down the case, “Screaming might make you feel better.”

She made her way to the door, pushed it open, then turned back to him. “Go ahead. Scream. And don't worry about disturbing the neighbors. There aren't any!”

With a gleeful laugh, she disappeared through the door.

Squirming and twisting from the thousand sharp stings of pain all over his body, Bobby had no choice but to follow her advice.

He opened his mouth and started to scream.

“
M
y neck! They're biting my neck!”

The red ants swarmed over his entire body. Down his back. Under his arms.

He watched the ants slide over the oozing honey, felt a thousand stabs of pain as they chewed.

Squirming and straining, moaning in pain, Bobby felt his chest tighten. He gasped for air. “I—I can't breathe!”

He struggled to free himself. He thrust his body to one side and cried even louder as the wooden chair toppled over.

Lying on his side in a puddle of warm honey, he thrashed and kicked. Ants crawled up his neck. He felt their tiny feet under his chin.

He spit hard, blowing them off his lips. But as he gasped for air, some of them crawled into his open mouth.

“Ohh, ohhh, ohhh.” He made low, moaning sounds without even hearing himself.

As he squirmed in agony, he thought he could feel each ant bite, thousands of them at once. They bit the soles of his feet, the backs of his knees, under his arms.

“Ohh, ohhhhh.”

Lying on his side, he thrashed and squirmed, pulling at the ropes for hours. At least it seemed like hours. Ants crawled into his ears, onto his eyelids, up his nose.

“Ohhh, ohhhhh.” Little animal moans escaped his parched throat as he struggled and tugged. But the honey made the ropes sticky, harder to budge.

Then, suddenly, one foot fell free. He didn't believe it at first. He kicked forward.

Yes!

Lying on his side, he twisted around—and slid the other foot free.

Jennilynn flunks at knot-tying, he thought. If they hadn't been coated with honey, I could have pulled free a long time ago.

Panting loudly, he struggled to his knees. His chest felt about to explode. The ants climbed around his neck. He felt their prickly legs inside his ears and on his scalp.

“Ohh, ohh, ohh.”

Frantically, he slid his hands free.

“Ohhh. Yes! Yes!”

And then he began furiously trying to brush the ants away. He rubbed his face, his forehead, slapped at the backs of his knees, desperately brushed them off his arms and legs.

“I'll never stop itching! Never!”

He had to get out of there. Had to get help.

He lurched around the tiny cabin, searching for his socks and sneakers. Gone. They were gone.

“Forget them,” he muttered to himself. “Got to get out. Get to the road. Get help.” His heart thudding in his chest, he turned and started to the door.

“Ow!” He slipped on a puddle of thick honey and fell, landing hard on his back and one elbow.

“Got to get out. Got to get out!”

He scrambled to his feet, threw himself out the door.

Dark out now. Dark and cool.

How long had he been in there?

The soft grass stuck to his sticky feet as he ran toward the dirt road.

“Got to get help. Got to get a ride. Get home.”

“Ow!” A rock cut into his foot. But he kept moving over the grass, still brushing away ants, his hands sticky and wet from the thick honey that covered his skin, his T-shirt, and boxer shorts.

He had gone only a short distance on the dirt road when he saw the twin beams of white light. Headlights.

Car headlights bouncing up the road. Coming toward him.

“Oh, no.”

He knew at once that Jennilynn was returning.

S
hould he run? Try to hide in the woods?

There wasn't time.

Bobby shielded his eyes from the bright headlights as the car screeched to a halt in front of him.

“Hey—Bobby? Is that you?”

The voice that called to him—it wasn't Jennilynn.

“Bobby? What are
you
doing here?”

Still shielding his eyes, he watched a lone figure leap out of the car and come jogging over to him. “Bobby? Are you okay?”

“Melanie!” he cried. “I—I don't believe it! How—?”

“Bobby—what happened to you?” In the light from the headlights, he saw her expression turn to horror. “What's that stuff all over you? Your pants—where are your pants?”

“Jennilynn—” he gasped weakly. “Jennilynn. She—”

“Oh, wow.” Melanie shook her head, still staring in disbelief at him. “Get in the car. Quick. I'll get you to a hospital.”

“No. I'm okay. No hospital,” Bobby insisted breathlessly. “We've got to go to the police. Jennilynn—she's dangerous.”

“Okay,” Melanie agreed. “Wait. I have some beach towels in the trunk. Let me spread them on the seat. Don't sit down.” She hurried to the trunk and opened it. “What
is
that all over you?”