Camp McClane

by Grant Fieldgrove

  A very-living Carl stood in a hallway with an attractive looking young girl. Downstairs, loud music was blaring along with the hustle and bustle of several other teenagers at the party. Carl whispered something into the girl’s ear, then nodded to the bedroom. The woman he was talking to threw the beer from her red cup into his face.

  “Ew, no!” the girl said, like someone just showed her a dead kitten and asked if she wanted to lick it.

  Carl watched as the girl stomped off, “You will not believe what just happened to me!” she practically yelled to her group of friends gathered in the game room.

  Carl's shoulders slumped and his head hung low. All he had asked was if she wanted to watch a movie with him in the other room.

  Carl opened the door wide and stepped into the bedroom, clenching his sweet nail-bat in his right hand. Dave and Andie were both facing the opposite wall as Dave attempted to service Andie from behind, as the kids say, doggie style.

  Dave attempted to work his magic on Andie from behind in a clusterfuck of fast, then slow, then slightly faster movements, none of which were providing Andie with any pleasure. Carl stepped into the room, mindful of his squeaky shoes, and sneaked behind them. He paused for a moment, watching out of disgusted fascination for a moment, and then swung the bat with full force at Dave's head. It sounded like dropping a watermelon. The bat stuck into Dave’s skull and his body started convulsing like he was having a massive seizure. He began stuttering, “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I like Sprite also.”

  Andie yelped, surprised and happy. “Oh, there ya go! Glad you decided to show up. Yeah! Hell yeah, baby!”

  Carl let go of the bat but it didn’t fall. Dave’s body ceased to move and then, suddenly, Dave thudded to the ground like panties on prom night.

  Andie groaned in frustration. “What the hell, Dave?! That's it? ... Dave?”

  She sat up, pissed off and turned to yell at her stupid fuckboy. Instead, of course, she saw Carl. Before she could scream, Carl picked up a tall, standing lamp, knocking the shade off, and shoved it into Andie’s open, screaming mouth, shattering the light bulb on her teeth and electrocuting her like she committed a mild crime in Texas under George W.’s governorship. The lights flickered and the skin on her face began to bubble like cheese in a microwave.

  Try not to think too much about how this could be possible… it’s for the best. Just focus on the horrible similes.

  Down in the living room, the lights flickered on and off.

  Sarah groaned, “Cheap ass generator.”

  The lights stopped flickering. Jimmy was laying on the sofa staring at the ceiling. “Have any of you ever thought about just pooping your pants? Like, just once, to see what it's like?”

  “What?!” Jacquelynn yelped.

  Jimmy, instantly embarrassed, tried to save face. “N-Nothin'. Who wants another beer?”

  Everyone but Mort and Jacquelynn raised their hands.

  Mort said, “I think I'm tappin' out for the night. I'm not much of a drinker.”

  “What a hump hole,” Jimmy said, getting to his feet. “Be right back.”

  Jimmy hopped up and exited the room. The last song on the playlist played and the room fell silent. Sarah stood up, already bored. But…did she hear something? “What's that?”

  “What's what?” Jacquelynn said.

  “I dunno. It's like a scratching sound.”

  Jessica laughed. “Probably Andie and Dave.”

  “No,” Sarah said looking around. “It's coming from the back of the house.”

  From the kitchen, Jimmy yelled, “Check it out, Nancy Drew.”

  “Golly thanks, brave man.” Sarah looked up and tried to focus all her hearing power towards where the sound could be coming from.

  “Oh sorry,” Jimmy said, “I forgot about Crazy Old Eddie. I heard he's risen from the grave. Give me a break. “

  Mort looked confused. “You mean Carl, remember? Besides, Sarah, I heard you in there. You don't believe in that shit.”

  “Holy shit,” Sarah sighed. “What a bunch of testicles. Just because I don't believe in the devil doesn't mean I don't believe in rapists. But by all means, you guys stay there...I'll check it out. But if Kobe Bryant is back there, I swear to god…”

  Upstairs, Carl was admiring his work. Not bad. Dave’s body was fallen on the floor, the baseball bat still stuck in his skull while his tiny little wiener had all the blood drained from it to make it look even more pathetic. This brought Carl great joy. Maybe jocks don’t all have big dicks. Maybe he just imagined that.

  The thought warmed his heart.

  On the bed, Andie’s face was smoking like a hundred mile trip in a Pinto. She was pretty before, but this was the way she belonged, Carl thought. Sure, he knew her type. She deserved it.

  Carl shrugged. Welp, time to move these bodies into maximum scare position. He reached down and grabbed Dave by the arms and dragged him into the hallway. Below, he heard Sarah talk about a scratching noise and saw her go to find the source.

  “Shit,” Carl mumbled as he dropped Dave with a thud. He began to panic, quickly looking in all directions to see if he could get down to the storeroom without being spotted. He figured he had a 50/50 shot and took off towards the window he came in and jumped out, down two stories to the mud below.

  Without much time left, Carl got to his feet, tried to wipe the mud off his digs and then entered through the back door into the stock room.

  He was already sweating like Mike Tyson in a spelling bee. Not a good sign for being so early in the night.

  He tiptoed through the darkness, trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. He entered the second stock closet just as Sarah entered the room and flipped the light on. From the closet, she heard a slight scratching noise. Sarah walked quietly and mindfully. The scratching got louder with each step.

  “Hello?” she whispered.

  No answer.

  She reached the closet and held out a hand towards the knob.

  From inside the other closet, Carl watched through the keyhole. It was almost showtime. This had to be perfect. His heart was racing and he was nervous. He’s always nervous when it’s game time.

  Sarah slowly turned the nob and opened the door, revealing nothing but darkness. With a terrifying screech, a black cat jumped out from the highest shelf. Sarah jumped and tried to scream but her lungs were exhausted of all air. She thought she was having a heart attack. Carl tried to stifle his laughter.

  “What the shit?!” Sarah panted. “How the hell does a cat get locked in a closet?! How are you even still alive?! Jesus! Oh my shit.”

  Once her heart started beating again, she bent down to pick up the cat, but was distracted. She heard Carl's laugh, but like a drawing by a child, she didn’t know what the hell it was. She walked slowly towards him.

  Sarah pet the cat before speaking to it again. “Is your friend in that one? How in the world do cats get locked in closets? Were you snooping around? Did the wind close the door on you? Were you hiding from the owner of a Chinese food restaurant? You’re lucky I heard you.”

  Sarah set the cat down, turned the knob and began to open the door. When it was only two inches cracked, Carl burst out with a fierceness. He shoved his forearm into Sarah's mouth to keep her from screaming and was pushing her back across the room and into the wall.

  Sarah was desperately trying to escape but to no avail. She bit into Carl's flesh and he pretended like he was momentarily stunned, because every second the girl is alive, her scare factor goes up. Of course, the bite didn’t hurt, though; I mean, come on... He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the wall, knocking her out. Her body went slack as she crumbled to the floor.

  Carl, confused, thought, that’s it? She went out quicker than an NFL wife in a private elevator.

  From the living room, Mort practically yelled like a bitch, “What was that?”

  Jimmy, without missing a beat, said, “Sasquatch.”

  Mort snapped his fingers. “Of cour
se.”

  “Let me tell you the huge advantage to dating a homeless chick.” Jimmy was not bothered by the noise that caused Mort to yell, obviously.

  “Oh god,” Jacquelynn said, sensing another awful, sexist Jimmy Joke. “What's the advantage?”

  “You can drop them off anywhere. Hello gas money savings!”

  Booooooooooo.

  Carl had Sarah flung over his shoulder as he walked around the cabin and dropped her body on top of James's. From his supplies, he took a long piece of extension cord and wrapped it around Sarah's neck. He was looking forward to crushing her skull, but she knocked out so goddamn quickly that it wouldn’t even be fun.

  Plan B.

  Above him, the clouds began to part and the rain slowly stopped falling.

  Inside, Jacquelynn stood up and walked to the window. “I think it stopped raining.”

  Carl was finishing up tying the extension cord around Sarah and began Duct taping her mouth. When he stood back up after a job well done, he was startled by Jacquelynn's face framed in the window. He quickly hit the deck like a grade-school boy who saw his crush while out with his nerdy-ass parents.

  Did she see him? He couldn’t be sure. He opted to try his luck and just stay down. He didn’t hear a scream, so ya know, that’s always a plus. Jacquelynn looked out the window, unable to see anything but her own reflection.

  “Yep,” she said. “Rain rain went away.”

  “Something like that,” Mort said, with just a touch of sass.

  Jacquelynn turned and gave him a friendly smirk. “You know what I mean.”

  “Sure did,” Mort said, and he could feel the blood rushing to his wiener.

  After the close call, Carl walked to the parking lot, approached the van and with nothing but his bare hands, ripped open the hood and yanked the connectors from the battery, then lowered the hood. He walked back to the house

  Carl walked around the cabin and stopped at a little window. He pulled a small stick from the window frame that kept the lock from engaging when closed, then slid open the window and crawled in.

  He walked to the door, closed it quietly and locked it, then turned on the water to the shower and made his way out the open window.

  In the living room, Jessica yelled, “Hey! We never had that skinny dip!”

  That snapped Jimmy to attention. “Oh yeah!”

  “And I'm almost just drunk and stoned enough to consider going with you dumb monkeys.”

  Jessica stood and turned then headed towards the downstairs bedroom. Out of her view, Jimmy nudged Mort.

  “The fuck did I tell you, son.

  Mort, he must admit, was impressed.

  “Ladies,” Jimmy said to everyone. “Shall we?”

  Savannah looked concerned. “I dunno. It's gonna be freezing.”

  “Yeah...Freezing. “

  “Last chance, ladies,” Jimmy said as he searched for the towel in his suitcase. “It'll be fun. I promise. And it won't be cold. The rain wasn't even cold. It's summer. Well, close enough.”

  Breanna, speaking first for the first time, well, ever, said, “He's got a point ya know?”

  Savannah was caught off guard, obviously. “Wait, what? Really?”

  “Yeah. Really. It'll be fun. Count me in.”

  Jimmy clapped. “Fantastic! Morton, you comin'?”

  Jacquelynn noticed Mort’s face drain of all color. Skinny-dipping and Mort was not skinny. Jac leaned in close and whispered into his ear, “Just go. We’re all your friends. Nobody cares about your body size. Body image only matters to the person the body belongs to and assholes.”

  From the kitchen, Jimmy yelled, “Hey Mort, ya fat fucking tub of fuck custard, I asked if you were coming!”

  “Nah,” Mort said quietly as Jacquelynn shot Jimmy the dirtiest look she had in her arsenal.

  “Okey-dokey,” Jimmy said as he made a beeline for the door.

  Mort, kinda hurt, said, “Wait. You're not going to try and talk me into it?”

  Jimmy ignored him and opened the door, Jessica following behind him.

  “How far of a walk is it?”

  Breanna answered. “It's really close.”

  Savannah followed up with, “Yeah. Close... “ When she realized the roll-reversal, she cursed to herself silently.

  Jimmy just shrugged. “You sure you don't want to come?”

  “I'm sure,” Savannah said.

  He looked to Jacquelynn. “Jack? You comin'?”

  “No thanks. I'm tired. I might grab my book and turn in. Maybe, um, tomorrow.”

  Jimmy, standing in the doorway, said to Jessica, “Go grab a towel and let's rock 'n roll. Where the hell did Sarah go?”

  Mort shrugged. Everyone else looked around, finally noticing she never returned but this didn’t interest Mort very much. Truth is, he had a full on boner now, just at the thought of being alone with these girls.

  Jacquelynn furrowed her brow, then said, “Yeah, where is Sarah?”

  Now it was Jimmy’s turn to use his awesome hearing powers. He squinted his eyes to add even more power to it! “Hold on... She's taking a shower. I can hear the water. What a party pooper. Well, if she wants to join us when she's done, tell her where we went.”

  Jacquelynn nodded and said, “Will do.”

  Jimmy threw up the peace sign like any Asian girl in any photo ever, and said, “We outtie!”

  Mort and his squishy boner said, “Be careful, man.”

  “Careful? For what?”

  “Um, because swimming right after a storm is dangerous.”

  This catches Jimmy’s attention. “Dangerous? Dangerous how?”

  “It just is. You don't know if the storm has fully passed... Lightning and all...Just sayin’.”

  “How dangerous are we talking here? Like, masturbating-when-you-have-a-fever dangerous?”

  “Nothing is more dangerous that that.”

  “Then I'll be fine. LET'S GIDDY UP!”

  This is it, Carl thought. This was where things go from fun to frantic. A few years back he caught a movie on his old black and white called Goodfellas and he instantly identified with poor Henry Hill during that final act, when he was running from place to place, faster and faster, with the paranoia of the cops and helicopter following him… Yeah, that’s what Carl felt like during showtime.

  It was a lot of hard work and it often went totally unnoticed.

  Jimmy and Jessica were still standing in the doorway talking to the people inside. Luckily for him, this allowed Carl to hear the plan for swimming and he swiftly took off running down the path. He arrived at Stuart's body and quickly dragged it out of sight, saving it for later, then ran back just as the door to the cabin was slamming shut and the boy and girl turned to walk down the same path he was on. He jumped out of sight like a grenade just exploded under his feet, straight into some bushes and brush.

  He was about to get up when the door opened again, this time another girl exited. She said, “You sure you don’t want to come, sis?”

  Carl couldn’t hear the reply, but he assumed it was a no since no one else came outside. The third girl caught up with the pair and began their short walk to the lake. Once safely enough away, Carl emerged from his improvisational hiding spot and followed the group at a safe distance. When they passed Stuart's body unnoticed, Carl dragged the body back to the path then ran frantically back to the taped and roped Sarah, who was regaining consciousness.

  He was sweating like grandma when she’s on top.

  Carl bent down, and with a loud grunt, grabbed Sarah by the hair and smashed her head against the soil, knocking her out again, ya know, just in case. He peeked into the window and saw that the upstairs bedroom door was still open. He leaned into the glass, smooshing his face against it like a bored child forced to be outside, and could see a small drop of blood dropping from the hallway to the floor below.

  “Argh, shoot!” he mumbled to himself.

  Carl left Sarah on the ground and ran around the cabin, sneaking back
in where he exited when he dragged her out.

  Jesus!

  He lifted his mask and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  He could feel his pager going off.

  “God damn it, come on!”

  He pulled the pager from his pocket and checked the messages. It was from his dumbass boss. Of course.

  Maximum scars, Work harder! Rooting 4 u!

  Maximum scars? The Devil was not much of a speller, but just like a boss, already telling Carl to work harder when he was already sweating like a hack writer trying to think up way too many similes.

  He shoved the pager back in his pocket without reply and mumbled some unkind words under his breath.

  In the living room, Savannah, Mort and Jacquelynn were all seated. Carl peeked his head into the room and dropped to his knees, crawling past the crowd unnoticed, like Scooby and Shaggy trying to escape a bullshit ghost, and climbed the steps.

  Carl grabbed Dave's body and chucked it further into the bedroom then used his boot to spread and thin the blood on the carpet to keep the pool from dripping down and becoming noticeable.

  From downstairs, he saw one of the girls stand up and yawn. It was Jacquelynn. “I think I will go read in bed for a bit.”

  Carl clenched his fists and hit them against his thighs, like a child throwing a tantrum for not getting a gumball from the machine at the grocery story because his mom is too fucking cheap.

  Thanks for nothing, mom!

  “Grrr!”

  Jacquelynn walked to her unpacked suitcase, still sitting on the floor by the front door, and unzipped it, shuffled through her clothes, and eventually grabbed some pajamas and her Kindle. She then headed back through the living room toward the gang.

  “Anyone care what room I take?”

  “Nope,” Mort said, “take your pick. I can sleep where ever.” But what he was thinking was whichever room you pick is fine with me because I’ll be joining you soon, oh yeah!

  “Ok, I'll just take the corner one, then. Night guys. Be good.”

  “Night Jackson,” Mort said, his little wiener swelling again with the thought of him sneaking into Jacquelynn’s room in a few minutes and sliding his…well, you get the idea.