Camp Slaughter

by Sergio Gomez

“GAVIN! STOP THE CAR! STOP THE CAR!” Noelle screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Gavin had seen him at the same time she had and was already slamming on the brakes. The brakes screeched as the tires kicked up dirt. The car started sliding to the right, but also kept going forward.

  Varias Caras threw the tree branch, pointed end first, right at the windshield. It went through the glass, exploding shards everywhere, but it missed hitting either of them. Instead, it went between their seats and went through the car until getting lodged in the backseat.

  The impact of the tree branch made the car spin out of Gavin’s control. They both screamed as the car went around and around like a fucked-up version of the Tilt-O-Whirl.

  It spun three full circles, before the car finally smashed into a tree on the side of the road.

  Her vision was blurry. Her ears were ringing. Noelle had taken the brunt of the impact since the car struck the tree on the passenger side. Her right arm was broken in several places, her head felt heavy. She wanted so badly to go to sleep.

  But then she blinked, and saw Rachel appear on the hood of the car. Her little sister sat cross-legged on the crumpled-up hood, surrounded by gray smoke billowing out from the busted engine. There was a sheen to her skin, like she was glowing, and she was whole, with no wounds.

  “You just going to sit there, big sister? Or are you going to help him?” Rachel said.

  She was pointing at the driver seat, where a semi-conscious Gavin was feeling around for the door handle to get out of the car. There was a large shard of glass sticking out from one of his shoulders, and his shirt was covered in blood, but the worst damage he sustained had been when his head bounced off the steering wheel on impact.

  “It’s just like our car accident,” Noelle said to her sister.

  Rachel nodded. “Here’s your chance, Noelle. To make things right for yourself. To finally rid yourself of the guilt.”

  “I—I can hardly feel my body, Rach… I don’t know if I have the energy…”

  “Grab my hand,” Rachel said, sticking her arm out. “I can only do this once, before I have to go.”

  “What?”

  “Grab my hand, Noelle.” Rachel reached her hand through the windshield.

  Not just through one of holes where glass was missing, Rachel’s hand went through even the shards still clinging to the frame.

  Noelle grabbed her hand. It was warm—warmer than humanly possible—and in that instance realized why her sister didn’t appear damaged like her usually hallucinations. Because this wasn’t a hallucination.

  This actually was Rachel. It was her sister’s ghost. These woods were haunted, and they’d brought Rachel’s ghost to come help her.

  Noelle crawled through the windshield. The shards of glass still stuck to the car were like teeth in a shark’s mouth, and they cut her open in several places as Rachel pulled her onto the hood.

  The smoke was thick, and she coughed, but held her composure. Rachel pointed into the car, where the ax was resting on the dashboard. It must’ve slipped out of Noelle’s hands on the impact of the crash and landed there.

  “Don’t forget that,” Rachel said.

  Noelle reached through the windshield and grabbed the weapon. She turned to thank Rachel, but she was gone.

  Gavin unlocked the car door, rolled out of it, and fell to the ground. His back struck a big rock laying on the ground, but he didn’t care. Other parts of his body hurt worse.

  He laid there for a moment, in a daze, but as his mind started to regroup, he remembered where he was and what was happening.

  He sat up, and saw the cannibal tearing across the dirt road. He held the chainsaw over his head, ready to bring it down.

  Gavin reached into his shorts and pulled out the steak knife he’d grabbed from the kitchen. At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea, but with the danger now in front of him, he realized he would’ve been as good with a butter knife.

  Using the side of the car for support, he got to his feet, and turned around in time to see the cannibal swinging the chainsaw down at him.

  Gavin watched the chain spinning around the blade in a mesmerized state. He never thought that accepting death would be so calming.

  Putting her hips into the motion, Noelle swung the ax as hard as she could with her good arm. The ax went into Varias Caras’ chest, and the surprise of the attack took him off balance. He stumbled backward, tripped on his own two feet and fell on his ass. The chainsaw flew out of his grip.

  “We have to go!” Noelle screamed, and pulled Gavin by the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t move.

  His head had cleared, and he saw the cannibal was on the ground trying to pull the ax out of his chest.

  This was his moment to strike.

  Gavin shook his head at Noelle, and picked up the rock he’d fallen on when he got out of the car. It was about the size of a football, and heavy enough to do damage.

  Gavin positioned the rock so the most jagged side of it was sticking out, and then ran toward the cannibal, and leapt into the air. He smashed the rock against the side of his head.

  Ignacio slumped forward; the back of his head exposed.

  He was badly hurt. No way Gavin was going to let this opportunity go.

  This one was for Wayne.

  He brought the rock down as hard as he could on the cannibal’s head. There was a thud, like a tennis ball striking a brick wall, and then Varias Caras fell sideways.

  Noelle grabbed Gavin by his shirt again and pulled him. He didn’t know what she was saying because his mind was processing a million thoughts, but he knew she was telling him to run.

  And as much as he wanted to kill him, as much as it would have been satisfying to pulverize his skull, he knew she was right. There was no promise this monster wasn’t going to get up, grab one of the weapons, and take their heads off.

  Besides, she’d come back to save his sorry ass. He owed her.

  Gavin pulled Noelle’s hand off his shirt and squeezed it. Then, together, they ran into the woods as fast as their damaged bodies would let them.

  Chapter 55

  Ignacio sat up. The back of his head was throbbing, pounding, like someone was knocking on the inside of his skull.

  The chainsaw lay a few feet from him, the motor slowed down to a purr and the chains were coming to a stop.

  Stupid brain…stupid brain, he scolded himself, because he couldn’t remember what happened.

  He blinked and shook his head in frustration. He still couldn’t remember.

  Then he saw the car. The passenger side was smooshed into the trunk of a massive oak tree that had held strong against the crash. The tree branch he’d thrown was sticking out of the middle of the windshield.

  He remembered now.

  He’d tried fighting them but lost. That’s why his head hurt. That’s why he was bleeding.

  But maybe… Maybe he could still find them.

  Ignacio tried focusing his hearing, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t hear far away anymore. The knocks to his head must have done something to his brain. Made it stupider.

  He walked over to the chainsaw and picked it up as it went dead silent. The tranquility of the woods returned and surrounded him.

  Mamá’s birthday was ruined. Both of his Barbies were dead—unless by some miracle the new one was alive, but he wasn’t counting on that because he hadn’t treated her wounds. She’d probably bled to death by now. And two of his prey had gotten away. They would tell on him. The police might believe them, too, because they were cut up and hurt.

  This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

  Stupid Ignacio. You ruin everything. He started back into the woods.

  He stopped at the front of the wrecked car and stared at it for a good while. This had been too much for him. He should’ve left those campers alone, but the desire for the new Barbie had gotten the best of him.

  All because she looked like Mamá. And in an awful twist, he’d ruined Mamá’s special day try
ing to find a girl to replace the missing part of his heart. The one that was lost when those thieves had killed her in cold blood.

  Tears came down his eyes as he walked back to the farmhouse, shoulders slumped in defeat.

  They couldn’t run anymore. There was no more energy left in them, they’d lost too much blood. They both fell onto a dirt road that was a little under half a mile from where they fought the cannibal. Not that either of them knew how far they’d gone. They just knew they couldn’t go any further. This was where they would die or be rescued. Silently, they’d both made up their minds about that.

  Gavin and Noelle were laying down on their stomachs, their hands had let go of the others when they fell, but their outstretched fingers were inches away from touching.

  Noelle turned her head to face Gavin. “Are—are you okay?”

  Gavin shook his head. “Are you?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Do you think any of the others survived?” Gavin asked her.

  “No,” she said, and to her surprise a dry chuckle escaped between her lips. “I… I’m not even sure we survived.”

  With the last of his energy, Gavin curled his lips into a smile. Then, he was out.

  Noelle closed her eyes, and shortly after, she went unconscious, too.

  “Dad! Stop the truck!” Benji shouted.

  Bill Hutcherson was on his cellphone, trying to drive and figure out how to change the background image of his new iPhone X at the same time, to prove to his son his old man still had it. He looked up from the screen when he heard his son shouting and saw the two people lying in the middle of the road.

  “Holy smokes!” Bill yelled as he slammed the brakes and veered his truck off to the shoulder.

  Everything in the car, including the coins in the cupholders and the American flag air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror, moved to the right with the change in direction.

  The truck stopped at the side of the road, kicking up clumps of grass and dirt behind its tires. Bill took his camo hat off his head and wiped his brow with it. That was a close call. He would’ve run the two poor things over if Benji weren’t with him.

  While his dad was catching his breath from nearly turning the two people laying in the street into roadkill, Benji slid out of the car.

  “Grab one of the rifles, boy!” Bill shouted after him, then undid his seatbelt and climbed out the car.

  Benji retrieved one of the rifles they had on the bed of the truck and approached the bodies. They were both disheveled and covered in blood and he thought that was a bone sticking out of one of the girl’s arms. Benji had seen a kid break his arm after falling out of a tree last year. This was nothing new to him, so he managed to keep his cool.

  He scanned the area for any hints of what might’ve happened to them, but there were none. Just trees and bushes and a chipmunk scurrying on the ground a few yards away. Benji drew closer, then crouched down and grabbed the guy’s wrist. There was a pulse. He grabbed the girl’s good arm next, and also felt a pulse.

  “Dad!” he said as his old man approached him with a rifle of his own. “They’re alive, Dad!”

  Bill crouched down over the bodies, and Benji moved away to give him more space. He checked them for life just as his son had done.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, glad that the two were alive—but first and foremost he was proud of his boy for knowing what to do in this situation.

  “Come on, Benj. Help me load ‘em into the truck. It’ll be no different than how we carry the deer.”

  Benji grabbed Gavin’s legs, while Bill hauled him up by the arms. On a deer, Bill would’ve been pulling by the front legs, but it was the same idea. Bill counted to three, then lifted him up and they carried him to the back of the truck.

  Next, they picked Noelle up. It was a little trickier because of her broken arm, but Bill pressed his hip against her shoulder to bear some of the weight that way. A minute or so after they found them, they were both loaded into the back of the truck, still unconscious.

  Billy and Benji climbed back into their seats. They had been on their way to fish at a remote river that was only a mile and a half away from here, but it seemed God had changed their plans.

  Billy made a U-turn on the dirt road and drove the truck toward town to take their knocked-out passengers to the hospital.

  “What a strange day, huh, Dad?” Benji said.

  “Yeah,” Bill responded. “Wonder what happened to ‘em?”

  “Maybe a bear?” Benji offered.

  “Maybe, son. Maybe.”

  They didn’t say another word to each other until they got to the hospital. The whole time, though, they speculated what could’ve happened to them.

  Out here, the possibilities were endless.

  Gavin was hallucinating. Had to be. There was no way he was on a stretcher right now, being carried through the doors of a hospital. This was all just an illusion his mind was creating to make it easier to accept death.

  Yeah, that had to be it. In reality, he was still laying somewhere in the woods. The cannibal with the chainsaw would come get him any second. Chop him up and turn him into porkchops or bacon or whatever sick shit he did with the people he killed. Maybe he fucked them.

  He hoped he wouldn’t do that to Noelle. She didn’t deserve it.

  The thought of her made him lift his head up.

  “Lie down, young man. Stay calm. You’re alright now.” One of the medics carrying the stretcher, a man with a full gray head of hair, spoke to him gently. “You’re OK now, son. Take it easy.”

  “Noelle…” Gavin said, letting his head drop back down because it was too heavy to hold up.

  “The girl is fine, sweetie.” This came from the other side of the stretcher, from a heavyset black woman with a slight southern accent. “Ya’ll are both gonna be just fine.”

  And Gavin believed her. He believed that voice that was smooth and sweet as honey. Even though his whole body ached, and the wounds underneath the thick layer of bandages pulsed in throbbing pain, Gavin believed her.

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep in peace, knowing the nightmare was over.

  Epilogue

  After treating his wounds, Ignacio spent the day collecting the bodies of people he’d killed. The old man hanging from the tree, the scrawny kid bent in half in the woods, the blue-haired guy back at Lakewood Cabin (and the two heads), and finally the decapitated kid at the campsite.

  He brought them to the barn where the three dead women were. He cut Mamá’s lookalike’s face off with a carving knife and folded it up in Saran paper he got from the farmhouse. He put her face in his pocket for later.

  The other bodies he cut up for the parts he could use for meals—the thighs, the backs, the shoulders, the bellies and put them in plastic bags—then stacked the remains of the corpses into a pile in the middle of the barn.

  Next, he went to the farmhouse where he took out all of his necessities and treasured items and loaded them into the car; the candles, the Jesus statue, his cooking dishes, his clothes, his boots, his masks, his machete, and of course the stick with Mamá’s head on it.

  He took the gallons of gasoline he had stocked up for the car, poured it all over the farmhouse, then lit a match and threw it inside. He took some of the remaining gas over to the barn and did the same thing.

  Both buildings would burn down. Maybe they’d cause a forest fire. Maybe they’d burn miles and miles of the place he used to call home. But he didn’t care. He’d be long gone from here by then.

  And as long as he had his Mamá’s head, anywhere could be home for Ignacio.

  It was around six PM when reports of people seeing smoke from the highway came in, and past midnight by the time the firefighters put the last of the flames out. The fire had spread from the barn all the way through the entire camp by means of dry brush and grass and trees, so when the firetrucks arrived on the scene, the campgrounds were up in a blaze.

  Around the time the firefight
ers were wrapping things up, Gavin and Noelle were talking to the police. When they arrived at the location to investigate what the two kids had told them, the only things left were burned trees, charred husks of wood, and ashes that were soaked wet from the firetruck’s hoses, but nothing that would lead them to the person who murdered the campers.

  All the officials had read the sign—the only thing that hadn’t been engulfed in flames—when they drove to the site:

  CAMP SLAUGHTER

  And all of them, independently of each other, thought it was a good thing the place had burned down. There was something strange about it, but they couldn’t quite put it into words. Just a feeling. Like they were being watched from the shadows. None of them spoke about it to the others, worried they’d sound foolish.

  Besides, it wasn’t like they were going to catch the murderer anyway. Even with all the blood they found back at Lakewood Cabin, there wasn’t much of a chance they’d catch the culprit. Out here, this deep in the woods, he could’ve been hiding anywhere.

  Afterword

  There are probably a lot of questions in your mind right now. Like, what happened to the survivors when they got back home? Do Brooke, Noelle, and Gavin ever talk to each other again? Will Varias Caras continue to kill?

  I can’t answer these questions, because I don’t really know. But there’s a reason I didn’t write “the end” at the conclusion of this story. This is only part one.

  Varias Caras will return… There’s more to his legend. But for now, that’s all I’ll say.

  Thanks for reading!

  -S. Gomez

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I must thank Laura and Derrick first. They read the first draft of this novel and gave me valuable feedback and notes. I would lose my mind without your help and support.

  Oh, and sorry to Laura for this story terrifying you so much that you had to run across your work parking lot and lock your car doors in a panic. I hope you don’t think about this book on one of your camping trips.