by Jon Athan
Britney stuttered, “The–The windows in the classrooms won't open wide enough for us to fit, either. We... We can't just jump out of a window.”
“So, that only leaves the emergency exits.”
“Wait. What if he locked all of those doors, too?”
“Then we're fucked. We have to try, though. If we stay here, we die. We can either go to the exit to the east or west. I think we should try the gym's emergency exit. No one ever uses that one and he probably forgot it.”
Britney nodded and said, “That sounds like a plan.”
Before they could leave, Charlene said, “Wait.” She stepped in front of Adam and said, “I can't believe you. You... You're actually willing to leave and abandon everyone just to save your own ass? Stephen is our friend, Adam, and he needs us. We have to go back for him. Don't make me beg. I'll–”
“Guys,” Britney interrupted in a soft, cracking voice.
The arguing couple turned towards her. Adam raised his brow and Charlene tilted her head as they stared at her. Britney pointed down the hall, her arm trembling uncontrollably.
Britney stuttered, “He–He's here...”
The group stared down the hall, terrified. Through the darkness, they could see a figure in the distance. The silhouette stood out against the darkness—mysterious and malevolent. He did not appear as large as the stories described. He didn't move, either.
Holding Charlene's hand, Adam stepped forward and whispered, “It's him. It's really him...”
A dim light illuminated the mysterious person's hand and stomach as well as the surrounding lockers. He appeared to be using a small device, tapping and swiping—as if he were scrolling through a page on a phone or composing a text message. Yet, he did not move forward and attack.
His behavior—natural under any other circumstance—was eerie. For a moment, just a second, the figure did not appear human. His slight, creepy movements, which allowed him to blend seamlessly with the shadows, appeared monstrous. He was the bogeyman—the monster everyone feared.
The group shared the same thought: why isn't he attacking us?
As the intruder aimed the device at the group, Britney asked, “What is he doing?”
Charlene said, “I... I think he's recording us.”
Before they could utter another word, the figure started running towards them.
In a slapdash reaction, Britney ran through the doorway to her right. Without thinking of her friends, she locked the door behind her. The young woman ended up in the administration area—cornered.
Still holding Charlene's hand, Adam ran forward and led his girlfriend to the intersection of hallways in front of them. Before the killer could reach them, the couple ran down the corridor to the right. They headed west, hurtling towards the gym.
Chapter Nineteen
Administration
Britney leaned back on the door, breathing heavily through her nose as she tried to compose herself. She glanced around the room and searched for an exit. She had been there before, but it all seemed alien to her—as if she had miraculously stepped into a different dimension when she ran through the doorway.
A row of seats hugged the wall to the right—the seating area. To her left, there was a long reception counter. Behind the counter, there were a few desks, which were used by some faculty members and a few student aides. Beyond the desks, there were several offices for the counselors and principal.
She wouldn't be able to escape through the windows in the offices, but she would be able to hide. She thought about fighting, but she knew she would lose. Hiding was her only option.
Britney ran around the reception counter. She sprinted towards the principal's office, but she skidded to a stop before she could reach the door. A thought dawned onto her: the police, no one ever called in the movies because it was too contrived. She glanced over at the tables. The landline phone called to her with honeyed words—use me.
She hunched down beside the desk. She held the landline phone to her ear, pushing the coiled cord aside as she dialed 911. She hopped in place and stared at the door, anxious. The call connected.
A female operator asked, “911, what is your emergency?”
Britney stuttered, “He–He's killing... He's killing all of my friends. They're all dying. Please, send help.”
“Where are you, ma'am? Are you in any immediate danger?”
“Yes! The killer is here... The masked man who killed Tiffany, Anna, Michael... He's here. He's going to–”
“Where are you, ma'am?” the operator interrupted.
“Redwood High School. Our teacher snuck us in. I'm calling from–from the administration area. Okay? My friends... They're somewhere else in the school. Some of them are dead, too. You have to hurry. He's coming for me. I know it.”
In a calm tone, professional but sympathetic, the operator said, “Okay, ma'am. The police are on their way. Right now, I need you to exit the building if you can. If not, you need to hide. When the officers arrive, you have to comply. Don't–”
Britney gasped as the door began to rattle. She sobbed and wheezed, losing control of herself as death banged on the door.
She cried, “He's already here... I'm going to die, but... I don't want to die. Not like this...”
The operator responded, “Ma'am, if you're in danger, you need to hide—now. Drop the phone, squeeze yourself into someplace he can't reach, and stay quiet. The police are on their way.”
Britney slammed the phone on the table and glanced around the room. She searched for a hiding place, but the rattling of the door distorted her thoughts. A deep thud echoed through the area as the intruder kicked at the door with all of his might. The sound grew louder with each kick. It sounded as if the door would explode off its hinges at any second.
The clock was ticking and death was approaching.
The young woman ran into the principal's office—the last room to the right. She slinked into the room, then she carefully closed the door. She tried to stay as quiet as possible. Just as she closed the door, the door to the administration area swung open after a powerful punt. She barely evaded the intruder's eyesight.
Britney held her hands over her mouth as she tried to control her breathing. She stared into the administration area through the thin window pane next to the door. She gasped and hid behind the door as the lights turned on—the killer wasn't dim, he wasn't going to search in the dark. She peeked through the window again.
Just as the rumors described, a person in a raincoat and masked searched under the desks in the administration area. The mask caught her eye: a paper-mâché plague doctor mask.
Britney whimpered as she stared down at the handle of the door. To her dismay, she forgot to turn the lock on the door. She thought about turning the lock at that moment, but the unavoidable clicking sound would only attract the killer. She needed every second she could buy. She fell to her knees, then she crawled across the small office. She pushed the principal's rolling chair aside, then she squeezed herself under the desk.
They'll be here any second now, she thought, it won't take longer than five minutes, I know it.
As she listened to the sounds of the killer flipping desks and breaking computers, Britney pulled her cell phone out. In tears, she opened her text messages. Her fingers trembled as she composed a message to her mother.
The message read: I love you, mom. I love you so much. I'm so scared. I don't think I'm going to make it. She paused and sniffled, then she wrote another message to her mother. The second message read: I'm sorry for taking your car. I'm sorry for everything. I love you. I love all of you.
Britney wheezed as she struggled to come to terms with her inevitable death. By typing the messages, she felt as if she had given up on life—and, in a sense, she did. She opened another message thread. Tears dripped from her eyes as she read over the messages she shared with Charlene. The memories were bittersweet. She sent a text message to her best friend.
The message read: He's in the administr
ation area, Charles. Get out. Get out alive. I love you, sweetie.
She gasped and pulled the phone closer to her chest as the door swung open. She placed one hand over her mouth and held her breath. She shoved the phone into her pocket, trying to hide the light from the screen. She leaned closer to the floor and gazed at the doorway from under the desk. Her eyes widened with fear as she spotted the killer's steel-toe boots.
He stood in the doorway, motionless. His refusal to move was eerie. He was purposely trying to frighten Britney—he was fucking with her. How long can you hold your breath, darling?
Britney panted through her nose, struggling to keep her composure. She shuddered uncontrollably. The windows were closed, but she still felt an icy sensation across her body—her blood chilled. With a clicking sound, a wave of light illuminated the room. The killer finally stepped forward. She could see his slow and calculated steps as he approached the desk. He stopped in front of the table. A few thuds emerged from the tabletop.
Britney couldn't see it, but it sounded like the intruder was playing with the principal's knick-knacks. He moved the phone, his pen basket, his picture frame, and everything else on his desk. He wasn't searching for anything, though. He was just reminiscing about the past—he had been there before. The memories weren't great, though.
Britney trembled uncontrollably as the intruder knocked on the desk. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying her best to contain herself.
The intruder knocked again. He grabbed one side of the desk, then he flipped the table—effortlessly hurling the desk at the neighboring wall and exposing Britney's position.
Britney crawled towards a bookcase behind the principal's chair. With bloodshot eyes, she cried, “No, please don't hurt me. Don't kill me, mister. I... I didn't do anything wrong. Don't hurt me!”
The intruder glared at her. She could see his furious eyes through the holes on his mask. Forgiveness was not an option. He grabbed the thick cord from the landline phone. As he approached, Britney staggered to her feet and stumbled towards the door. Before she could even reach the center of the room, the masked person tossed the cable over her head, then he pulled it back at her throat.
Britney coughed and grunted as she was strangled. She fell to her knees while the intruder stood behind her, tugging on the cable with all of his might. Britney scratched at her throat, trying to dig her nails under the thick cord to no avail. Her nails sliced into her neck, causing blood to stream over the cord and down to her chest.
The blood only made it more difficult for her to grip the cord. Yet, she couldn't stop herself. Her nails continued to penetrate her skin as she tried to stop the strangulation. She was fighting for survival after all. The couple locked eyes—Britney's eyes bulged from her skull while the killer's eyes remained livid.
In a hoarse tone, the killer said, “You had a big mouth. You should have stayed off the damn phone. You should have left him alone.”
Struggling to breathe, Britney furrowed her brow and tilted her head as she stared up at her attacker. Despite the struggle, she understood his statement. She just couldn't believe it. Hoarse gasps escaped her lips as she painfully suffocated. Aside from an involuntary twitch, she stopped wrestling with the intruder.
The masked person, still pulling on the cord with one hand, knelt down and grabbed the principal's nib pen from the floor. The sharp tip was perfect.
The intruder said, “The things you said about the things you never saw... All of it for 'likes' and attention. You're sick. You're disgusting. You shouldn't be allowed to talk anymore and you shouldn't be allowed to see. Your eyes can't be trusted.”
He lifted the pen over his shoulder with the nib pointing downward, the back of Britney's head resting on his knee. Eyes wide with fear, she shuddered as she stared at the sharp point of the pen. Suffocating, she didn't have the opportunity to scream. She was too weak to fight or run. She could only watch in horror.
The killer stabbed Britney's left eye with the pen. Her eye immediately reddened. She panted and flailed her limbs every which way as the killer removed the pen. He wasn't finished, though. He stabbed under her left eye, slicing through her eyelid and penetrating her eye socket. He wiggled the pen in her socket, trying his best to scoop her eye out.
Blood squirted from her eye and streamed down her cheek—bloody tears, just like his mask. As he sawed into her eye, Britney fell limp. The lack of oxygen and the sheer shock killed her.
Yet, the masked killer continued to cut into her eye. He grunted and groaned in frustration. Anger clearly fueled his rampage—and it wasn't over.
Chapter Twenty
The Truth
Charlene and Adam ran through the double-door entrance of the gym. Adam, visibly worried, refused to release Charlene's hand during their entire run. Charlene, however, was not willing to leave without her friends. She stopped running and leaned back, forcing Adam to stumble near the center of the court.
As soon as he regained his footing, Adam glanced back at Charlene with wide eyes. Charlene stood her ground and shook her head.
Adam asked, “What are you doing? The exit is right there. We have to go. Now.”
“I'm not going anywhere without our friends. I have to make sure Britney is okay, I have to go back and help Stephen.”
“Britney can take care of herself and we can't trust Stephen. We've been through this already. Let's go.”
“No.”
Adam stared at his girlfriend in disbelief. Some would call it 'compassion,' he would call it 'stupidity.' Although he cared about the girl, he wasn't going to be another horror movie victim. He bit his bottom lip, then he sprinted towards the emergency exit at the other end of the gym.
As she watched him run, Charlene shouted, “You selfish asshole!”
Adam slipped and slid as he approached the exit. He couldn't help but smile. The finish line, he thought, I reached the end. He lunged forward and tackled the exit—but to no avail. The door rattled in the frame, but it didn't budge. He stepped in reverse, awed. He stood on his tiptoes and peered through the window on the door.
The door was chained.
As he staggered in reverse, Adam whispered, “It's... It's locked. Why did he lock this door?”
Charlene said, “I knew it would end this way. He wasn't going to let us walk out of this place without a fight. He's a step ahead. He's always been a step ahead of us.” She glanced around the empty gym, saddened. She said, “Someone is helping him. I know it. How else would he know we were here? It's... It's just not possible.”
Adam grabbed Charlene's hand and said, “Come on, we can't be standing out here in the open. We have to hide until help arrives.”
He tugged on his girlfriend's arm. The young woman reluctantly followed his lead. The couple ended up under the retracting bleachers—the same bleachers they sat on during the assembly. It was dark, eerie, and cramped under the seats.
In a soft tone, Charlene asked, “Do you really think Stephen is capable of killing all of those people? Stephen? The guy who smokes weed and watches horror movies all day? Hmm?”
“Does it matter?”
“What? Of course it matters. We left him behind. He could be dead.”
“We did what we had to do to survive. Okay? No matter what way you put it, Stephen is guilty. If he didn't kill anyone, he probably did something just as bad. People have to pay for their sins, Charlene. I don't think it's fair, but that's just the way the world works.”
Wide-eyed, Charlene responded, “What? What the hell are you talking about, Adam? Do you know something I–”
She stopped as the doors swung open in the gym. The sound of thudding footsteps echoed through the area, slow and calculated. The footsteps grew louder, then they dwindled in sound as the person approached the other end of the gym. The sound of the emergency exit rattling emerged. It wasn't a sound of panic, though.
The fact bothered Charlene. She wanted to believe Stephen or Britney had made it to the exit. She knew that idea was nothi
ng but a fallacy. The intruder had arrived—and he brought death with him.
Charlene leaned closer to Adam and whispered, “What do we do? Can we fight him? Should we–”
Adam held his finger up to Charlene's lips—shush. He glanced around. There were two possible exits under the bleachers. The killer would have to emerge from one end, so they'd just run out from the other side. The escape plan was simple and effective. However, if all of the emergency exits were locked, they would only be able to run around in circles in the school.
No matter what, they were still trapped in the building.
The couple glanced over to their left as the sound of footsteps emerged again. The killer was approaching the bleachers. One, two, three... ten steps—the intruder stopped near the seating area. He didn't move again. Silence reigned supreme as the couple stared at the end of the bleachers, waiting for death to arrive.
Like a curious turtle, the intruder poked his head around the corner and gazed into the area under the bleachers.
Charlene gasped and stepped in reverse upon spotting his Bauta paper-mâché mask. The angry expression startled her. She could see his glimmering blue eyes through the darkness, too. Her eyes widened upon spotting the bloody Bowie knife in his right hand.
The couple stared at the masked person, incapable of moving. The intruder stared back at them, stationary but furious. He took his first step froward, crouching under the bleachers. Yet, the couple remained motionless—deer in the headlights, targets in the crosshairs.
***
As Adam took his first step back, prepared to run at the first opportunity, Charlene stepped forward and said, “I'm not running from you... not until I know the truth. Did you kill Dominique? Did you attack Stephen? Wilson? Britney?”
The intruder tilted his head to the left as he stared at Charlene. He nodded—yes, I attacked them. He stepped closer to the couple, but the young woman stood her ground.