Chapter 13
The Killer or The Hack
Jim didn’t remember his panicked flight from the lake, only moments, terror-stricken flashes from an over-imaginative mind playing tricks on him. A grunt behind him, a clawed hand swiping at him from the trees as he broke from the trail into the clearing, a bloodstained knife finding his back as he pounded the locked front door of the lodge. Faces pressed against the windows while he slid bleeding to the porch.
And then he was inside, hands closing over his arms, leading him forcibly to the closest chair. Voices babbled barely decipherable words, muffled by the pounding in his head. But their meaning was clear.
What the hell happened?
“Tracy’s dead,” he managed between sucking great gasps of air. “Can’t find Camp.”
Silent, blanched faces stared
