Dead of Summer

I’ve always liked the dark.

The flashlight is cursory as I follow the dirt trail, and I use my ears more than my eyes to make sure I’m not creeping up on a bear or a rabid coyote. Not that I’ve ever seen either. Frankly, I doubt tonight is the time to change that.

Belatedly, it hits me that as my flashlight bounces, it’s hitting something that shouldn’t be there. Something bobs in the trees ahead of me, not quite sticking to the trail. By my mental map, I know we’re close to the lake on the side of the camp with the drop-off zone, but this deep in the woods all I should be able to see is a sliver of reflective water through a gap in the trees. Really, it’s mostly just trees and grass and dirt.

“Hello?” I swear the movement looks like walking, though instead of my flashlight catching the familiar design of the garish shirts we wear as counselors, I see a person dressed in a bulky, long-sleeve jacket.

In July? My brain protests in horror. I can barely be pressed to put a jacket on when my teeth are chattering, let alone when I’m close to sweating. “Darcy?” I know it isn’t Darcy. Even if her plans with Kayde didn’t work out, she wouldn’t do something to be helpful or responsible.

As my steps pick up and I’m jogging down the path, it hits me that the person in front of me can’t be Darcy. They’re too tall, for one, and even without the bulk of the jacket, this figure isn’t as slim as the ex-volleyball player. “Hello?” It doesn’t even hit me to be freaked out until I’m within ten or so feet of the still moving person. “If this is a joke—” My throat closes around a breath I take, and it finally dawns on me that I might be doing something stupid by running up to a stranger in the dark who really shouldn’t be in these woods.

But I’m too close to stop now. My hand goes up and out, fingers reaching as they close finally on the slick material of the black jacket that originally caught the light from my flashlight. As I close my grip on the person, I swear I can both feel and hear them sigh in front of me, as if they’re resigned to some inevitable fact now.

“Who are—” My words break off just as the hooded figure turns a little, enough for me to see the glimmer of light brown, gorgeous eyes set over high cheekbones and a wide, full mouth made for smiling. “Kayde?” My tone lifts, too high and too loud, but Kayde doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even fully turn around.

The resignation reaches his eyes, and he glances around us, like he’s waiting for someone else. “What are you doing here, Summer?” he asks at last, still twisting away from me. “I thought you said tonight was Darcy’s night to walk the camp at night.”

“It is—well, it was,” I find myself explaining, though my words are as unsure as the churning in my stomach. “Wait, no. Hold on a second. You don’t get to ask me what I’m doing out here. What the hell are you doing here?! Darcy said you were with Daniel. That’s why she pawned this off on me. Did something…happen?”

His low laugh makes my skin crawl, and I can’t help but snatch my hand back from his jacket. Why is he wearing a jacket with the hood up, anyway?

“Stupid fucking Darcy,” Kayde murmurs at last, lifting one hand to rake it through his curly hair and forcing it back. “Can’t even trust her to stick to the fucking schedule, huh? And what do you think you’re doing anyway, Summer?” His eyes pin me suddenly from over his shoulder, and I find myself shifting uncomfortably on my feet, like I’ve been caught doing something against the rules.

“Doing Darcy’s walk,” I snapped at last, feeling only the tiniest bit defensive. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were a—fuck, I don’t know, like?—”

“A serial killer?” The way he says the words is…strange. They roll off of his tongue like he’s purring, and he still watches me from narrowed, glittering eyes as he tracks my every movement. “You thought you were reaching out and grabbing the jacket of a murderer, Summer?”

This time, when he says my name, there’s nothing flat or dismissive about it. Though when that sends a shiver down my spine, I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing. I laugh awkwardly, tasting the discomfort in the back of my throat when I swallow. “Yeah. Something…something like that. Lucky for me it’s just you, though, right?”

The words don’t feel right on my tongue.

His smile turns…strange. Pitying, in a way, and he seems to argue internally with himself before letting out a rough, quick sigh. “Well, I don’t know, sweetheart.” He turns fully, and the light I’m holding falls on the bright, reflective thing he holds in his other hand.

“Feels like tonight might be your unlucky night, actually. Really wish you were asleep right now.” His grip shifts as he turns, and when he stands to face me fully, I find I can’t move a damn muscle.

Not with my eyes fixed on Kayde Lane, and the ax he’s holding in the hand that was hidden from me until now.

“Oh, my god.” The words come out as a whisper as all the warmth drains out of me, into the ground below.

“Not quite,” Kayde responds, still with that half-apologetic smile. “And if you’re really good for me, sweetheart, I won’t make you meet him tonight.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Though his words do a few circuits in my brain, all I can do is stand there and stare at Kayde. Then the ax, which seems like a separate, ghostly entity with the way the gray blade shines in the light from my flashlight.

Then I look at Kayde again, to find that his expression hasn’t changed. He’s still watching me with those goading, pitying eyes that make me want to throw up.

“Don’t…don’t fuck with me, Kayde,” I whisper, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Why would you say that? You’re not a—” My words falter, and for some reason I can’t get the last part of my sentence to come into existence between us.

“I’m not…what?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes shining like a happy puppy’s as he gives me that sweet, helpful look I’ve seen him use on every camp counselor at Crestview. “I’m not a murderer? I’m not a serial killer? Oh, I know.” My muscles tense when he takes one terrifying step toward me, and hefts the ax in his hands thoughtfully. “You were about to say that I’m not on my way to murder the kids sleeping in their cabins here at Camp Crestview. That’s where you were going with that, right?”

It occurs to me that this is fun for him. That he’s having a great time with the terror shaking through me, and the way part of me is still so sure this is a joke.

The other part of me is really wondering why I’m not running yet.

“This isn’t funny.” But I doubt he means it to be. Why would he be holding an ax and dressed in clothes to obscure his identity if it was? My hands flex, and I wish I had my phone in one of them, so I didn’t need to dig in my pocket for it.

Kayde looks down at my twitching fingers, then back up at my face. “I think it’s a little funny, but probably not for the reasons you would,” he admits, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “But you know what I think we should talk about, Summer?”