Weekend - By Christopher Pike Page 0,53

Flynn nodded, glancing over his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

The hallway and stairs were clear, but the living room droned with hidden rattlers. Veering into a nearby bedroom, they turned on the light and shut the door. Park checked under the bed. Sol laid Lena on the mattress. Blood soaked through the sheets, dark and thick. Angie brought a roll of toilet paper from the nearby bathroom and began to wrap it tightly around Lena's leg and arm. Sol stopped her.

"Let her bleed the poison out," he said. "Lena! Where do you keep a snake kit?"

"Kitchen... under sink," Lena whispered, her teeth and eyes clenched.

"All of you, stay here," Flynn said firmly. "I'll get Robin and the kit."

"There must be someone else in the house," Sol said. "I'll come with you."

"No, if they come here, you'll have to protect the girls." Flynn cracked the door, peered out. "I'll be back in a minute." He left.

In the madness, Shani tried to put her illness on hold. They gathered about Lena as she lay shaking on the bed. Her toughness still intact, she refused to cry. Sol squeezed the muscle surrounding her wound, encouraging the bleeding.

"Stop that," she whispered.

"We've got to get the poison out, babe," Sol said.

"If I bleed to death, what will it matter? Stop it, I say."

A rifle in one hand, Robin in the other, Flynn reappeared. Robin hurried to her sister's side. "What's happened?" she cried, pale and confused.

"That was smart, Flynn," Park said, "getting that gun."

Flynn shut the door, moved a chair in front of it, and sat down. He had the cassette player she had noticed earlier in the recording studio. Pulling a box of shells from his pocket, he began to load the rifle.

"Did you get the kit?" Sol asked.

"No," Flynn said, methodically sliding in the bullets, his face grim.

Sol stood. "I'll get it."

"No," Flynn said.

"But we need it imme - " Sol stopped short in front of Flynn's pointed barrel.

"No," he said again, cocking his rifle.

"What's this?" Sol demanded angrily. "Lena needs - "

"Sit down," Flynn interrupted, his voice cold. Sol backed up. Kerry made a dash for the bathroom.

"Stop!" Flynn shouted.

"But I'm going to be sick," she pleaded.

"Be sick on the floor."

"But I - "

"Sit down! All of you, sit down!"

They did as he wished. Lena sat up weakly, leaning against her sister, each holding the other up. Of them all, Shani was the least surprised. In a sense, she had been expecting this. "At least let us get the antidote for the snake venom," she said. "I can get it. I promise I'll come - "

"Shut up," Flynn said.

"But she'll die!" she cried.

"So what?"

Sol could contain himself no longer. Springing to his feet, he charged, sweating, "Why, you bastard, I'm going to kill - "

Flynn raised the rifle. Shani covered her eyes. The explosion was deafening. Cold wind whipped her face. Rain sprinkled her hair. Peeking through her fingers, she saw Sol sit down again, unhurt. Flynn had blown out the window at her back.

"Understand clearly," he said. "That was my last warning."

"Has my sister been poisoned?" Robin asked softly.

"Snakes bit her," Park said.

"I see," Robin whispered. She was not strong enough for this.

Flynn smiled. "You've all been poisoned. That's why you're all sick. I slipped a very special concoction in your dinner last night. It takes twenty-four hours to take effect. After forty-eight hours the damage is irreversible. Don't start crying, Kerry. I'm getting more than a little tired of your blubbering. This poison probably won't kill you. But it does have nasty side effects: bleeding ulcers, blindness, severe kidney damage - we all know how bothersomethat can be. I won't tell you exactly what poison it is just yet, but I will reassure you that it has an antidote." He pulled a prescription container of orange pills from his shirt pocket. "Two of these every two hours for a day and the majority of the damage can be avoided.

That is, if you take them in time. Any questions?"

Shani shivered in the damp draught. "Where's your partner, Michael?"

"Michael?" Robin winced. She had found a handkerchief and was holding it over Lena's wound.

"That's my real name." Michael pointed the cassette's microphone towards them. "And as far as my partner is concerned, I don't have one. I don't operate like that voice in the room. I don't have the time; neither do any of you." His voice was savage. "You'll be given no chance to 'piece things together.' I will ask a