The woods started to thin out. As she approached the top of a small incline, she noticed there was a house up ahead. She’d nearly reached the end of the woods, and from where she stood she could see where a yard began. She also located roofs of other houses scattered throughout the woods farther away. She’d been walking down the mountain all this time, slowly approaching a tiny community. If that was the case, she had a pretty good idea of where she was, and better yet, where her car was. If only she could get the boy, to a phone, she could put an end to all of this.
Her body tingled with excitement. Help was so close her stomach ached for it. She ran. Not a swift rate, but it was the best she could do. She felt a pinching pressure in her head as she reached the bottom of the small hill.
There he is!
The kid was exiting the woods ahead of her, but still so far away that she doubted he’d hear her if she tried calling for him. At least she had the visual confirmation he was still ahead of her, and she would follow him out. She pushed herself harder. She didn’t have to worry about dodging the trees; for they were so spread out they barely seemed to be there at all.
She reached the edge of the woods, stopping at a tree to observe the location.
A thought swished through her head.
What if I’m already dead…and this kid is leading me to Heaven?
What if he wasn’t leading her to Heaven, but somewhere else?
Or…Now here’s a very farfetched idea…What if…think about this…what if he’s just an ordinary kid who’s just going about his business as he would any other day and is totally unaware of me?
That seemed the most likely.
She set her eyes on the backyard of the nice house. There was a wooden fence that separated it from the house next to it, but the kid was nowhere to be found. She began to feel a slight tremor of panic until hearing a ruckus inside the shed. It may be a good idea to check there.
She stepped into the yard. The ground here was much softer on her feet. The grass was high, and grazed her shins as she pressed through. It felt like feathers compared to the rough terrain her feet had endured.
Another clang resonated from the shed. The door was open, and inside she could see the kid struggling with a push-mower. It was giving him some trouble as he tried pulling it out of the shed. Her heart pounded. He was there. She was so close. She was going to make it after all.
Then there was a tight grip around her stomach. Her feet lifted off the ground as she sailed backward. Everything was happening so fast. She grabbed at the air, hoping somehow she’d latch onto something firm that could stop her recoil.
The hold loosened. She dropped roughly on her back. Trees bowed above her, lightly swaying in a soft summer breeze. Then she saw those grimed boots again.
He’d caught her.
She was so close!
Knowing she was defeated, she began to cry, and even if she thought she might be able to take him, she was too weak to try. The sun’s reflection glinted off the machete, a gleaming line across the tree bark in front of her.
She braced herself for the end.
Then her body lit up with a series of sharp joggles as he continuously hacked her with the machete. Her release from the pain didn’t come as fast as she’d have liked, but when it finally did, she was grateful.
(IV)
Joel let the lawnmower drop. It landed with a harsh clang. He wanted to kick it, but knew doing that would only add the aggravation of a hurting foot to the already annoying lawnmower wedged under a bunch of junk.
He walked around the front and moved the fishing net first. It lay across the mower, its pole lodged between the handle bars. He tugged it out, and made a face. He couldn’t recall why they even owned this net. They’d never been fishing as far as he could remember. He chucked it over his shoulder. It landed somewhere amidst the rest of the debris. He didn’t want to sort through the boxes that were piled on top of the mower, and hoped with the net out of the way he could tug it out.
He could.
It wasn’t easy. After another clash, he finally managed to dislodge it. Once it was in the grass, he decided to let it sit there for a moment. He was already tired of messing with this. His shirt was plastered to his back from sweat. His brow was sopping, so he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it dry.
Joel walked around the side of the mower, planted a foot on top, and gripped the pulley. He jerked it with all he had. Expecting the engine to roar to life, it didn’t. He adjusted the choke and tried again. Still nothing. Now, he was getting annoyed. All he wanted to do was mow the damn yard so Haley wouldn’t be a bitch, but the piece of shit was being difficult.
He tried three more times before giving up. He a good idea what the problem was, so he returned to the shed for a screwdriver and spark plug. Dad had a small toolbox full of little replacement parts. He was positive he could find what he was looking for in it. They’d had to change that plug quite often. Obviously the mower was defective, but Dad had never thought it was important enough to get another one. He didn’t like to throw money around, and figured a little bit of grief was livable as long as you could afford it.
He smiled, thinking about Dad, just as he normally would. There were times when memories of his parents brought on a flood of emotions that would render him helpless with sobs, but this wasn’t one of them. It was a good memory. But, it still reminded him that Dad and Mom, just like Rusky, would never be coming back.
His chest felt heavy, so he forced the memories of his parents into the pit of his mind.
Joel found the toolbox on a provisional shelf Dad had added years back. There was one spark plug left inside. He took it, grabbed a screwdriver, then walked back to the lawnmower. He squatted beside it and used the screwdriver to pop the rubber cork out of the hole. The spark plug inside was corroded with oil and gas. He could smell it. It took some effort, but he managed to unscrew it. Finished with that, he replaced it with the new one, sealed it up, and was ready to give it another try.
Then he noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye.
He turned around, facing the woods, and froze.
A large man stood at the edge of his yard. His head was covered with some kind of shroud. Although the distance between them wasn’t great, it was far enough away that Joel shouldn’t be able to see all the blood the man had been bathed in.
Their eyes were locked, neither of them looking away.
Joel knew he should run, but he only stood there gawking at this horrible looking man, becoming more infatuated with him by the second. It was like something out of a horror movie, something he would have dreamed up, but he hadn’t, this was real.
Joel was raising his hand to wave at the man when he suddenly collapsed onto his side. He quickly rushed over to him. The man rolled onto his back, goggling dizzily at the kid. His mouth smacked, bubbles of blood popping between his lips.
Joel knelt down, placing a hand on the man’s arm. It was the only spot that wasn’t sodden from blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
(I)
Haley sat behind the laptop in her one windowed office, hammering away on the keys as if punishing them. The room was suffused in chattering clicks. She’d thought about Joel often today and felt guilt more than anger over how the morning had turned out. It had been her fault, really. He was probably feeling the shock of Mom and Dad all over again after finding Rusky dead.
She stopped typing.
Thoughts stampeded through her head. She didn’t know what to do at this point, and even worse, dreaded going home. He’d have had the whole day to think about what to throw at her next. That was a lot of time to build up a surplus of malicious words. But, that was all right, she would have plenty of words and punishments to give right back.
Not that that it would matter...
Her stomach growled. She checked the clock. It was almost time to take her lunch break, finally. The day had seemed to drag by with each minute excruciatingly longer than the last. She let her head
drop flat on her desk with a thump. The wood was cold and soothing against her forehead.
The door to her office bumped shut. She didn’t bother raising her head to see who had entered, because she already had a good idea who it was.
“Got your wakeup call right here.”
She was right in her assumption. Carlee. Her assistant, and probably the best friend she’d ever known. Since getting hired at Jones and Jones Law Firm two years ago as Geoffrey Jones’ paralegal, it had often felt like she’d bitten off more than she could chew. But, Carlee helped make things so much easier by assisting her every step of the way, going far beyond her call of duty to make sure Haley was not only comfortable, but able to handle the tricks to surviving the constant rotation of employees that came through the office. Haley was certain Carlee had saved her job more than once. A friendship had kindled, and she’d thanked God every day for blessing her with Carlee. Not just great to work with, Carlee was absolutely perfect as a human being, and an even better friend.
Haley raised her head, squinting. Carlee stood in front of her desk, brandishing two cups of coffee. Her tan-colored suit snuggled her curvy body. Today’s skirt was much shorter than her usual choices. It draped an inch above her knees, and showed the smooth gradients of her calves. Haley assumed she was trying to impress John Kilward, a recent client and victim of wrongful termination at some power plant. He was gorgeous from head to toe, with a rock hard body, and would come into a lot of money when his case settled. Haley worried Carlee might come across as desperate in an outfit like that.
“You’re a life saver,” said Haley, accepting the offered coffee.
Haley tilted the cup upward, gulping three big swallows before stopping. It left behind a moustache of creamy foam above her lip. Taking a tissue from the box on her desk, she wiped it.
“Wow,” said Carlee. “I’m impressed.”
Haley returned the cup to her mouth, guzzled down the rest, and tossed the empty cup over her head. It smacked the wall, and dropped into the trash can.
“Now, I’m really impressed.”
“Don’t be, it’s just one of my many useless talents.”
“I don’t know,” said Carlee. “I think any guy would find the way you sucked that coffee down without flinching or gagging to be quite a useful talent indeed.”
Haley smiled at her slyly. “I’ve never gotten any complaints before.”
Altering her voice into a poor imitation of a man’s, she said, “Why Haley, I’ve got something else you can suck down…but it’s not coffee.”
They laughed as Carlee sat in the chair across from her. “So, how’s your day?”
Haley groaned.
“Sorry I couldn’t get in here sooner; Jonesey had me at the meeting with Mr. Kilward. It ran over.”
“I figured so.” Haley smiled. “Did Mr. Kilward notice you’d waxed your legs?”
Carlee’s face went scarlet. She tugged at the bottom of the skirt as if hoping to somehow lower the length of it. “That obvious, huh?”
“No,” lied Haley. “Not, at all.”
“You’re full of shit.” She sighed. “Why did I wear this? This isn’t me.”
“No, it’s not. Looks hot, though.”
“Damn it, John probably thinks I’m a floozy now.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I was wearing this, and…” She stopped talking, as if wary of telling Haley the rest.
“What’d you do?”
She grimaced, gnawing at her bottom lip.
“That bad?”
“I totally kept crossing my legs in front of him, and when he’d look at me I’d bat my eyes.” She repeated the choreography for Haley. Tilting her eyes up, her thin lashes flickered like a butterfly wing. Haley exploded with laughter. Carlee stopped, making a face. “Too much?”
“Did he ask you out?” Haley asked, finally.
“Not yet.”
“Wait. Isn’t he married?”
“I don’t know, is he?”
“I think so.”
Carlee rolled her eyes. “What the hell’s wrong with me? Am I that desperate?”
“Look at what you’re wearing.”
Carlee looked down at the skimpy outfit and gasped.
“Answer your question?”
“No wonder Jonesey’s eyes kept trailing down when he’d talk to me.” She pointed at her top. It was triangle-cut, and low in the front, showing the small gorge between the slopes of her breasts.
“Jonesey’s eyes always drift downward.”
“Yeah, but this time he had plenty to see.”
Haley winced looking at it. She was about to offer Carlee the chance to go home and change her clothes when the phone on her desk rang. It was a loud, beating pulse that hurt her ears. She raised a finger to Carlee before answering. “Haley Olsen.”
The voice on the other line shot back at her fast and torn with static. “Haley? My God, you’re not gonna believe this, but there’s a psychopath in the yard!”
Sounded like Joel, his voice frightened and shaky. “Joel?” she asked, just to be sure.
“Who else would it be? There’s a psycho in the backyard!”
“A what?”
“A psychopath!”
Carlee watched her, confused.
Haley rolled her eyes. Joel was up to his old tricks, so he must not be feeling that bad, after all. “Oh really, and what’s this psycho doing?”
Carlee’s face crinkled, even more confused than moments before she mouthed, “Is he okay?”
Haley nodded with a smirk while Joel fired more outrageous lies at her.
“He’s just lying there, not moving…covered in blood…wearing some kind of mask!”
“Riiight.”
“Just get home, now!”
“I’m not in the mood for your horror movie games. Am I going to come home and find one of your special effects in the backyard like on my birthday?”
“No!”
“Trying to scare me to get back at me for this morning?”
“What? No!”
“Uh-huh, suuuure.”
“I’m not playing games, Haley! Now get home, damn it, and tell me what the hell I should do!” His voice was packed full of anger.
Haley could hear the sincerity in it. Could he actually be telling the truth? Doubtful.
“Did you call the police?” she asked.
“Well—no…I wanted to call you first…”
“Why?” If he was telling the truth, then the first call he made would have been to the police.
“Wuh-well…I-I-I…” He paused. “I didn’t know what to do!”
“I’ll tell you something you can do,” she said.
“What? What?”
“Mow the fucking yard!!!” She slammed the phone down on its base.
Carlee jumped from the loud clatter. Still hyped up on her own anger, Haley slammed her fist on the desk.
Damn him, she thought. Damn him.
(II)
Dial tone.
Joel stared at the phone, dumbly. She’d hung up on him. He couldn’t believe she actually hung up on him, but at the same time wasn’t surprised that she had. Haley could be such a bitch when she wanted to. The tone turned to a pulsing beat, and he pressed the button to hang up before the annoying recorded voice asked him if he’d like to make a call. He sat the phone down by the sink.
Looks like I’m on my own.
He was fine with that. It wouldn’t be the first time. He returned to the window above the kitchen sink, and peered out.
The yard was empty.
Where the psycho had collapsed, the grass was no longer green, but red and matted down to the contour of his immense body, but the actual body was no longer there.
Gone.
A shrill caught at the back of his throat. He felt as if spiders were crawling up his scalp. He rubbed the rising goose flesh on his arms. Their texture was rough and pimply.
Then he hauled ass to the nearest drawer, jerke
d it open, and sifted through its contents. All he found was a can opener, some tongs, and metal and plastic spatulas. None of these would make for a useful weapon. He slammed the drawer shut and turned around. Scanning the kitchen, he spotted the knife rack centered on the counter, and darted for it. His frantic hands crashed against the spinning rack, toppling it over. A gleaming flurry of knives crashed to the floor. Squatting, he searched the pile until he found the largest one: a chef’s knife.
He stood, and smiled. Just like the one Michael Myers uses. Then he remembered how terrible the remake was and felt another kind of anger building. He crossed through the kitchen, the blade held out in front of him.
In the sunroom, he discovered the double-glass doors standing open. They’d been closed before he got on the phone.
“No…” He felt those bristles of adrenaline drain from his body. His eyes roamed down to the floor. In a smeared line were bloody footprints, a size sixteen, easily. “Oh, God.”
He thought briefly about calling the police, but decided not to. They probably wouldn’t believe him, either. Plus, if they showed up and couldn’t find anything, they’d think this was all some kind of joke, and he’d get in a lot of trouble. Again. Just like on Haley’s birthday.
Screw that, he was going to find the guy himself, and show them all he wasn’t lying.
The prints led Joel out of the kitchen, through the doorway, and into the living room. From there, they progressed to the stairs, becoming lighter with each track. By the time he reached the carpeted stairs, they had vanished completely. How could he track them now? He obviously went upstairs, but where should Joel look?
And, what if he found Joel instead?
He shivered, his skin went bristly.
I’m going to find him first. Better believe it.
“Hello?” Walking to the stairs, the knife aimed ahead, he continued talking into the air. “Where’d you go?” He spotted his reflection in the elongated blade and hardly recognized the kid inside. Mussed hair, and bags under the eyes, this person looked like a junkie. He angled the knife so he couldn’t see himself any longer.
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