March 13, 20:30, rainy.
Just like in so many horror movies, the villain is never killed off right away, but he's weakened for the moment—a crucial moment.
She snaps back to reality, reminding her of who she is and where she is, bringing on a wave of fear.
She is still alive. She has to get out of here. It's not over yet.
She doesn't get far. As she passes through a thicket, she's grabbed from behind and lifted up. She flails her legs harmlessly, like a fish pulled from the water.
Blonney: Ah!
Baptiste's voice resonates in her ear. He is back, just as any script would have told her he would be. Down but not out. Not yet.
Baptiste: You're a fighter, Blonney. I can tell you really value your life. But I promise, I'll make you pay for all it's worth.
Blonney: Let go of me, creep!
Blonney drives her elbow into the man's nose. She hears a crunch, and his grip loosens as he falls. She then kicks back hard against his thigh.
Baptiste: Damn it!
Blonney: My car! I need to get back to my car.
She feels a river of blood dripping down from her arm, unsure of where or what has caused it.
Her headache is still ringing in her ears, and her thoughts race too fast to catch up. So she ceases to think, to fear, to hope. She runs out of the forest and onto the road.
Blonney: Huff ... huff ...
Her heart pounds in her chest, a sickly mix of adrenaline, fear, and exhaustion.
She feels a strange numbness in her legs. She wants to stop, but the blood on her arm reminds her that he won't be far behind.
She keeps running. She has to keep running.
Blonney: My car!
Sweat drips down her face. Her fingers fumble with the keys. Her heart sounds like a drum in her ear. Saliva or blood is filling up her mouth.
Metal strikes against metal. Friction, static, sparks flying.
Blonney: God, please let it start!
Blonney: Calm down, Blonney. Just put the key in the hole, and, ah!
The glass shatters loudly behind her as her rear window is bashed out.
Blonney: What the ...?!
She catches a glimpse of Baptiste through the rearview mirror, swinging his hammer—the same one he must have used to bash Stahl's brains in—while trying to open the driver's side door.
Blonney: Damn it! How did he catch up so quickly?!
Blonney: Hands off my car, you creep!
She crawls out through the passenger door, tripping over the threshold, cursing under her breath as she makes for the hotel, before spotting a white figure running toward her.
Jack: Blonney!
Blonney: You little brat, get over here!
She sprints to the door, dragging Jack back with her to the hotel lobby.
She grabs the doorknob. For a second, she thinks about locking the door, but there'd be no point. He'd find a way inside.
Baptiste: Give it up, Blonney! Time to get what's coming to you.
Blonney: Time for you to get a new bruise, you psycho!
Blonney shoves the door open, knocking Baptiste back down the steps.
Baptiste: St!
Blonney: Stay close, Jack!
Blonney runs past the front desk, heading for the restaurant.
She grabs the revolver from the fireplace, tucking it into her waistband.
Blonney: The wine cellar, it's this way!
Blonney: Huff ... huff ...
Why did she come here? She realizes only too late. It is secure, yes, but too secure. Only one way in or out.
When he gets in, that will be it, one way or another. This cellar is going to be his tomb, or hers.
Blonney: Listen, Jack. When he comes, I need you to run past him. You get up the stairs and go get help, got it?
The door buckles as if struck hard from the outside.
Blonney: He's here!
It buckles again with a loud and heavy thud, the latches nearly giving way. On the third strike, they break off entirely.
"Bang!"
Blonney draws the revolver and fires, but Baptiste's speed is astounding. The bullet goes wide as he crashes through the door and charges toward her.
Blonney: Christ almighty!
Baptiste: Give up, Blonney.
Blonney: You said that before, boss.
Blonney takes a deep breath, her fingers on the cold steel of the gun, rotating the cylinder.
Jack: Blonney, are we gonna die?
Blonney: I'm not dying today, kid!
Baptiste: Kid?
Blonney: They call you the "Highway Killer," a natural-born demon. But you're just a creepy loser, and you've got terrible taste in wine.
Seizing the moment, Blonney raises her right hand and shoots at the liquid on the floor near Baptiste's feet.
"Bang!"
Sparks fly, tracing the surface of the high-proof sherry she had spilled out at the doorway. The alcohol burns and bursts into flame.
Baptiste: What the ...?!
The flames grow wilder and begin climbing up Baptiste's pant leg.
Blonney: Now! Get out of here! Run!
Tom: What happened?! cough Blonney? Why are you all ...
He surveys the scene, his face illuminated by the firelight growing behind her. Upon seeing the gun in Blonney's hand, his bleary eyes widen.
Tom: Good golly! I'm sorry about the flirting. Don't shoot!
Blonney: Hotel's on fire! Check the other rooms for people! We need to get everyone out!
Tom: What about you? Where are you going?
Blonney: I promised someone I'd help her, and I hate breaking promises!
Jack: I'll go with you, Blonney!
The flames roar, dancing around the staircase. Blonney halts in front of Room 24, inserts the key into the lock, and kicks the door open.
Judie: Well, I never ...
Blonney: Judie! Come with me!
Judie: No! I ain't going nowhere!
Judie: What's that smell? Smoke? Stahl! You setting fires now? People live here, you know? You think I'm paying for this kind of treatment?!
Blonney looks into Judie's eyes but is met with only a blank, unfocused gaze.
A massive wave of heat hits her back, roaring with blazing fury. There's no time. She grabs Judie's arm.
Blonney: Come on, Judie, I've got something for you!
Blonney: Something better than sherry! How does that sound? Exciting, right?
She pulls Judie down the stairs.
Before leaving, she takes one last glance back at the hotel, now consumed by flames.
Blonney bolts out of the hotel, leaps into the driver's seat, and turns the ignition key, revving the car's engine three times.
Blonney: Yes! Finally. Thank fk for that!
Blonney: Get in the car, everyone! Hurry up!
Jack stands motionless in front of the hotel.
Blonney: Jack?!
Jack: Sorry. I can't go with you, Blonney.
Jack: I have to wait for Dad to come back.
Blonney: You can't, Jack, you've got to go. Besides, you made a promise, right? We found him. Now it's time to go!
Jack: But I ...
Blonney: I know who you are, Jack.
Blonney: But no matter who you are, I did what you asked. Now it's your turn!
She pulls Jack into the car.
Jack: Blonney, you're bleeding.
Blonney: Yeah. That game got a bit too intense back there. Jack, can you call 911 for me?
Blonney: I need to wrap up this story fast.
The car hums gently and rhythmically. Elizabeth Fraser's voice drifts through a crack in the driver's window.
"Fearless on my breath, teardrop on the fire."
"Nine night of matter, black flowers blossom, fearless on my breath."
As the car speeds away, fire bursts out from the windows of the Night Owl Inn, as if the building were sighing in long-awaited relief.
