Whodunit

Chapter 13

Jordan never understood instant regret until now. Why did he suggest this? Seeing how terrified Anisa and Nubia were made him think of Zaria and his baby girl, Sienna. God forbid they were ever in a similar situation, he'd want someone to stand up and protect them, too. He cursed himself for having a heart under his cold exterior.

Trying to process the death of Desi didn't make it any easier. It only made him eager to fight and beat this game the hooded figure pulled them into.

As he stepped into the night, the tall doors shut behind him, sending an echoing slam through the crisp air. Jordan held his breath and gripped his weapons tight as he observed his surroundings. He had survived life in the 'hood and had taken on ruthless gangbangers, gunslingers, and the greatest villain of all: high school. No way a fool with a knife could take him down. He'd wipe that painted face right off that plastic mask.

"Stupid...want to come to a house in the middle of nowhere...stupid Mardi Gras mask...stupid tire," Jordan mumbled to himself as he began his cautious walk down the slope of the curved driveway.

He swung the meat tenderizer back and forth as his sneakers hit the pavement with urgency. Thunder lit the sky with the spark of lightning. The lightning temporarily allowed him to see more in the pitch dark but unnerved him more than he desired to admit. He shook it off and began rapping Youngboy Never Broke Again's lyrics. His pace down the dirt road left no time for thinking about the worst that could happen. He needed to be focused on and aware of his surroundings.

A light drizzle began to fall.

"Man, what the—" Jordan groaned, annoyed at his luck. He reached for his hood but remembered that a hood would give him blind spots.

He wrapped his arms around his torso as the water droplets hit faster against his face. The drizzle morphed into an aggressive storm of hard rain and hurricane-like winds. Jordan's hands wiped across his face like windshield wipers, trying to dry his eyes enough to see through the steam the rain skillfully crafted with the humidity.

As he approached the truck parked at a diagonal angle in the middle of the road, he clutched the handles of the knife and heavy metal tenderizer. His breathing slowed as the song lyrics drifted off his tongue. The headlights peered through the fog, making him stand out in the dark. He stopped and looked around. Nothing else stood out. The rain clogged the atmosphere and muffled his hearing.

He kept walking. No need in standing around waiting for something bad to pop off. He shifted the knife to his other hand and pulled the truck keys out his pocket. His finger slipped on the remote and pressed the alarm button instead of the unlock button. The horn blared in a repetitive cry for help. Jordan sped up and pressed the buttons until the horn shut off. He picked up his pace and jogged the rest of the short distance. If the killer wasn't on to him before, he definitely was now.

He pulled on the driver's door but stopped before it opened. Desi's silly rules crossed his mind. He had a feeling that Desi would warn him to check the backseat, just in case the killer was hiding out like an old school urban legend. But if Desi's rules truly helped people survive horror, he wouldn't be dead.

Jordan opened the door and leaned over the seat to reach the cupholders in the middle. He searched through a bunch of receipts and sunburned coins. No phone. He always dropped his phone in one of the cup holders while he drove. He hopped onto the seat and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the backseat was clear. Just in case. He reached his hands between the cracks of the seat. The raging rain continued to drench half of his body. His hands rumbled through the crumbs and old candy in the cracks before moving to search the passenger side.

His brain almost stroked out of consciousness when the floor under the passenger seat began vibrating and lighting up. He reached under the seat and snatched up the ringing phone.