Free The Rules by Nancy Holder Page A

made any sense. Then he swapped the two halves.
    “I got nothing,” he confessed.
    “Me neither. I’m not sadistic. What’s
that
about?”
    It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. This hunt was
hard.
He had half a mind to blow it off, get wasted, and see if Morgan wanted to hook up. He wasn’t going to win—he was stumped by the first clue, and Morgan wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist, either. But she was looking hot tonight. Sizzling. He and Morgan had gone a couple of rounds at parties, but it had been a while.
    They had wandered all over the cannery and were now lumbering across the parking lot. August’s Porsche was so sick. Cage’s family was well off, but they weren’t rich like the DeYoungs. Cage drove a used Honda Accord. Not exactly a sexmobile, but he did okay.
    Above the steep, weedy embankment ran the road they’d all taken to get here. They both saw the mouth of the cave at the same time, and as they approached, neon red lights shaped into capital
C
s and
M
s flashed on and off on either side of the entrance. Morgan stumbled backward and then they both started laughing.
    “Guess this is our first stop,” Morgan said.
    “And our last,” Cage said in a creepy stage whisper.
    She batted his arm. “You’re not funny.”
    The arrows went dark. Cautiously, Cage stared into the cave, then shined his flashlight into it. The maw of deep, black velvet devoured the light but shadows were moving around. August’s holographs, the bodies in the coffins, and the bats in the factory all came to mind and he braced himself for something to jump out at them.
    Morgan brushed up against him. He felt her body heat, smelled her recently applied perfume, and grinned to himself. Fear was an aphrodisiac, right? That was why teenagers liked to watch scary movies.
    “Something is going to jump out at us,” she said. “I just know it.”
    “Guaranteed.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and moved closer, waiting for August’s jack-in-the-box to scare her right into his waiting arms. “Something really horrifying and gross.”
    She pouted like a baby. “I can’t believe August said I’m into sadistic pleasure or whatever. I am
so
going to kick his ass.”
    “Before or after you win an audition to become a Laker Girl?” Her prize for the win.
    “After,” she said dreamily.
    Shapes came into view as they entered the cave. It was packed with stacks of wooden pallets, steel buckets, and random piles of junk. A lit camping lantern had been hidden behind a battered piece of metal adorned with a skull and crossbones.
    There.
    He hid a smile as he visually traced the outline of a figure propped against the cave wall to his right. It was about the same height as the writhing bodies in the coffins. He subtly eased her toward it so it could jerk or moan or whatever it was programmed to do. He could barely make it out in the dark but its head was hooded and it was wearing something long, like a duster. As he watched it, he was sure that it began to move, and he herded Morgan even closer to it, unable to hide his grin.
    She was oblivious. Her attention was focused on the swaths of light her flashlight painted on their surroundings. She ran the light against the back of the cave, then swept it upward.
    At once, a dozen or so Barbie-style dolls dropped from the ceiling on spirals of red lights in clear plastic tubing. They were dressed like Callabrese High cheerleaders in green-and-yellow sweaters and pleated minis, and they chattered in high-pitched childlike voices. It was Alexa DeYoung’s voice, and the words were spoken through racking sobs.
    “I’m too fat, I’m too fat, I’m too fat.”
    Yodeling with terror, Morgan climbed up his body and clung to him. He grabbed one of the dolls and yanked it free of the tubing.
    “I’m too fat I’m too fat I’m too fat—”
    Morgan dug the doll out of his hand and threw it onto the ground.
    “Okay, August! Whatever!” she shouted. She pulled two more dolls free and stomped