Night of the Slasher

by Flint Maxwell

  The Harley was parked next to a green van with a busted out side window that was covered with plastic and lots of duct tape. The guy sitting astride it had been grinning, then all of a sudden, blood burst through his chest, along with a tire iron.

  Man, a tire iron. Imagine that.

  The biker looked down at the long, black steel sticking out from his middle. He reached his fingerless-gloved right hand up to the thing that would kill him, and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Just a thick dribble of red.

  He fell to the right, his hand still death-gripped on the Harley’s throttle. I don’t know how it happened or why, but this made the Harley lurch forward. It took off like a rocket, bumped over the concrete lip at the end of the lot, and crashed into the side of the bar.

  My guess was that a place as old and out of date as Patty’s Pub probably suffered from a lot of water damage and mold and rot—all the afflictions that weaken the integrity of a building’s structure—and this was why the Harley went straight through.

  Either way, the vehicle took out a good amount of unfortunate people, knocking over tables and chairs and bodies alike. Drinks flew into the air. The microphone screeched its warning feedback call, then the music cut off abruptly.

  Alongside the screaming, and the tornado siren, was the roar of the motorcycle’s engine. The bike still had the crumpled body of its dead, bloody rider attached to it. After about five long seconds of it running in place, the engine cut off, and all we could hear was the screaming.

  This was worse.

  Cageface stood threateningly in the parking space that the Harley had occupied just a few seconds before. His Camp Moonfall shirt was riddled with holes, and the edges were singed.

  The tornado siren whooped on, but it seemed to me like it was weakening, drifting closer and closer to silence.

  “This really sucks,” Zack said.

  “Big time,” I agreed.

  32

  A Challenge

  Unfortunately for the fleeing drinkers, Cageface just grabbed whomever got close enough.

  We were the Fright Squad, and even though these people were slight assholes, especially toward out-of-towners, they were humans, and it was the Fright Squad’s job to protect humans.

  So we’d have to kill Cageface. We’d have to kill him for the sake of this crappy town.

  Cageface snagged an old biker by the back of the neck, and threw him through the green van’s broken side window. The flying man went through the window on the other side, where he came out covered in big shards of glass.

  “Really?” I said to the monster. “You’re gonna waste your energy on them? We’re the ones you want.”

  “Uh, Abe? Probably not a good idea to call out the psycho killer… Right?” Zack said. He looked to Maddie, Jason, and Freddy, and they nodded their approval.

  Cageface turned on us. His upper lip pulled back in a snarl, and I saw the rotten teeth beneath one of the bear trap’s spikes. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  Still, this was good; we had gotten his attention.

  The people in the bar were getting away. Cars were starting up. Motorcycles—those that hadn’t been knocked over in all of the chaos—revved to life. People were still screaming, of course. People always screamed when crazy stuff happened. I didn’t blame them.

  So there we were, the Fright Squad, standing in the doorway of this crappy dive bar, with Freddy and Jason behind us, and a bunch of panicking and drunk old people running around like ants from a flaming anthill, while Cageface towered in front.

  “How do you expect to beat this guy?” Freddy said. His voice was weak, barely a whisper.

  I knew he wasn’t going to like my answer, but I figured it was better than no answer.

  “I have no fucking idea,” I said.

  33

  Jock vs. Slasher

  One of the brave bikers, hellbent on vengeance for his comrade who’d been felled by a tire iron through the sternum, attacked Cageface from behind. He held a broken two by four, one end as jagged and sharp as shattered glass, and began hitting Cageface over and over again.

  Note: if you are not a trained monster hunter, never hit a slasher over the back with a jagged two by four. All it does is piss the monster off.

  This biker found that out the hard way.

  Cageface turned as if the biker was an annoying fly. He reached up and grabbed the two by four in his left hand. The biker’s face was a mask of determination and anguish as he tried driving it downward. But Cageface was too much, too strong, and he ripped it free from the man’s grip. The biker stumbled back.

  I made a move before Cageface could impale this poor, brave bastard on the piece of wood. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the most logical thing. I ran at his back just as he brought the two by four down, and my shoulder slammed into him. He felt so cold, so stiff. He was so much worse than a corpse. But my stunt worked: the piece of wood went astray and hit the building, missing the biker by a mere six inches. It left a gash in the wall and then broke into splinters.

  I watched the biker as he got up and scrambled away.

  ‘Yeah, that could’ve been your head, dude.’ That’s what I would’ve said if Cageface hadn’t rebounded from my hit.

  His hands closed right in front of my face. If Maddie and Zack hadn’t pulled me back, those dead hands would’ve close around my throat.

  Jason and Freddy stepped in front of us as the Fright Squad fell back in to the gravel. Jason stood his ground pretty well; he looked the part of a guy who’d fight a slasher like Cageface. Freddy looked completely out of his element—both Cageface and Jason towered over the scrawny stoner—but he roared nonetheless. The drink he’d gotten at the bar must’ve given him a fresh bout of courage. Though it was probably not the smartest idea to stand up to a serial killer in the throes of one of his would-be killing sprees, but I gained a lot of respect for Freddy right then.

  Jason kicked out. He went low, hitting Cageface’s knee hard enough that the monster dropped to his other knee. Then Freddy ran at him with his fist raised. He swung downward, bounced right off, and went sprawling in the gravel next to us.

  Jason was still standing. He kicked again, and this time, he hit Cageface right in his caged face. The bear trap made a squelching sound as the spikes burrowed deeper into dead flesh. There was no blood; Cageface didn’t cry out or look to be in any sort of pain. He just took it, and took the next hit, too.

  Even as Jason’s fists collided with the sides of Cageface’s head, the monster rose.

  A sickening feeling squirmed in the pit of my stomach. We could punch and kick this monster all day, we could shoot him with guns, we could throw bunkbeds on him, do all these things, and it would make no impact. He was unstoppable. How were we supposed to defeat something like that?

  I didn’t know.

  Suddenly, Cageface’s arms extended in a push. Jason flew backward, but he didn’t fall in the gravel like we all had; he’d managed to stand his ground. But now the fight was in Cageface’s favor.

  “Let’s go!” I said. “We gotta get out of here, get him away from all these people!”

  “Where to?” Maddie yelled back.

  The siren finally whooped its last whoop, and died with an electronic whine.

  Zack said, “I swear this is some terrible nightmare.”

  I knew he was wrong, but that’s what it felt like; like we were trapped in some sick and twisted funhouse within our own heads.

  The dying siren helped solidify that feeling.

  People were still streaming out of the bar’s door. Some were even running out through the new hole in the wall, ambling over the dead Harley and its deader biker. They gave Cageface a wide berth, yet the slasher didn’t even notice these people. He was focused on us.

  He wanted his revenge. No one had ever stood up to him before, and now that we had, there was no one else he wanted dead, it seemed.

  Fortunate for the town. Unfortunate for us. Except, if he did man
age to kill us, then the town would be screwed.

  It was a mess.

  “We have to draw him away from here, from the center of town,” I said.

  “Split up?” Freddy asked.

  “No! Dammit, Freddy!” Zack yelled over the screaming, fleeing drunks. “You never split up!”

  Cageface stepped toward us. I raised one of the pistols, but that didn’t stop the monster. I didn’t think it would; it was more a reflex.

  “Uh, Abe…” Maddie said, “you’d better think of something, fast.”

  I tried. I really did. Stuff like this, thinking under pressure, fighting monsters, I was supposed to be good at it. But right now, I wasn’t.

  “Try your soul-sucking shit!” Zack said. “Hurry!”

  “Soul-slaying,” I corrected. “There is no sucking involved…”

  “Whatever, just try it!” he yelled.

  The others stepped back, and I stepped forward.

  Cageface stepped forward, too.

  Here we were in another one of those western standoffs. Except guns weren’t effective, so all I had was the weak mental powers I’d been trying to unlock with Octavius.

  I didn’t exactly have confidence in my abilities. The extent of my training had been done with toads—those poor toads. I hadn’t done anything with my “gifts,” as Octavius called them, besides tickle toads until they threw up.

  ‘Maybe toads don’t have souls,’ I’d tried arguing.

  ‘Of course they do. Most everything has a soul, Abraham,’ Octavius had replied.

  I still didn’t believe it.

  I crouched now, and stared daggers at Cageface.

  God, he’s so ugly. The poor bastard.

  It wasn’t his fault, really. He had just been a curious camper who’d found a bear trap in Lake Moonfall, and who’d unfortunately had said bear trap clamp over his face. Maybe he’d died immediately, only to be revived by a forest witch later, woken from peace. Maybe he’d lived in pain a little longer. Who knew? Sure, he’d killed dozens of campers and counselors a few years later, but he’d been dead (twice, probably) and brought back by some crazy chick. I doubted he’d wanted that, despite Tiffany proclaiming she’d heard his voice when she was in the woods.

  Focus! Octavius screamed in my head, so closely that I thought he was right there with me.

  Right then, I wished he was. I had thought I could handle this job, that it would all be okay, that maybe Cageface wouldn’t even make an appearance, that maybe he’d remain an urban legend.

  But I’m never that lucky.

  Sometimes, you have to make your own luck, I guess. So I closed my eyes and focused on the soul-slaying.

  34

  Really, It Should Be Called Soul-Sucking

  Well.

  I tried.

  Mustering up all the concentration I could, I sent out the same type of power I’d used when Doctor Blood attacked at the Monster Games. My mind was all over the place, but I swear it didn’t feel much different than it had felt a few months back. It felt better, stronger, than when I’d practiced on toads, and Cageface certainly wasn’t getting tickled to death.

  Or anything else “to death,” because nothing happened.

  It took me a few long seconds to realize what I should’ve known in the first place: Cageface did not have a soul. Therefore, I could not use whatever powers I possessed against him. Therefore, I was worthless in the fight.

  Yet again.

  “Abe!” Maddie yelled. Hands gripped me from behind, and pulled me backward.

  Cageface swiped at my head, and I felt the hot, night air waft over my face. He missed, thanks in part to Maddie and Zack once again pulling me out of harm’s way, but his swollen fist hit one of the unpainted, wooden support beams over the entrance to the bar, and the awning overhead fell with a groan.

  For a split-second, I had visions of the awning burying Cageface for good. But he was strong, too strong, and though he could be slowed down, he couldn’t be vanquished. As was true for most slasher villains.

  But I came up with an idea. A way to slow him down for a long time.

  My mind flashed back to the guy pumping gas when we first got here, telling us about the old coal miners in the mountains that flanked the town.

  ‘Ain’t very safe up there; y’all wanna avoid them places. Alotta old dynamite left hanging around, and ain’t nothing more unstable in the world than old dynamite…well, ‘sides my ex-wife.’

  I looked up and behind me. Past Jason and Freddy, Maddie and Zack.

  “Abe!?” Zack said. “What the hell—”

  “We have to run,” I said.

  “Uh, yeah, no shit!” Freddy replied.

  I pointed. “There!”

  Cageface withdrew his hand from the rubble of the awning, and faced us again.

  “Run!” I shouted.

  They didn’t know what the hell I had in mind, but I took off, and I knew they’d follow me.

  Same went for Cageface. God, I hoped he was as dumb as he looked.

  35

  Second Broken Rule

  We were back in the woods, and it seemed like they were getting closer and closer, squeezing in on the town like the hands of a serial strangler (is that a thing?). In our retreat, we committed the one horror movie sin you’re never supposed to commit.

  We split up.

  But it wasn’t our fault. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure all the characters in horror movies and novels think the same thing, but I swear, it wasn’t our fault.

  It was the town’s fault.

  If they would’ve listened to me in the first place, would’ve gotten the hell out a little earlier, then I wouldn’t have been running through the forest with Zack a few steps behind me.

  Maddie, Jason, and Freddy were nowhere to be found.

  “Maddie?” Zack yelled. I heard him shuffle to a stop behind me.

  We were on an unofficial trail, one that had been beaten down by four wheelers and hikers. I couldn’t even see the bar we’d come from. My heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. Running wasn’t one of my strong suits, and considering how much running I did on this job—running away, that is—I had the fitness level of a one-legged zombie.

  When Zack stopped, I stopped. Lord knew I needed the breather. I was beyond huffing and puffing.

  “We split up,” I said, and the way I said it was speech’s equivalent to waving the white surrender flag.

  Zack, for the first time in a long time, looked worried—like he’d just realized a crazy slasher was chasing us. With Zack, things always seemed like a joke; now, though, he was pale and sweaty, pasty. He looked like a junkie going through the last stages of withdrawal, where the night is darkest before dawn.

  “Maddie,” he said again, frantic, catching his breath. Hands on his knees. Sweat dripping off of him.

  The trees and bramble crashed nearby. In the blackness, I saw a tall, hulking figure, faintly lit by the moon’s glow.

  Zack stepped back from the edge of the beaten path.

  The air had turned sour. Sleeping birds that had been awakened by our flight closed their eyes to the evil that came through the forest.

  I couldn’t let him go back. Cageface was on our trail, and in Zack’s frantic state of mind, he couldn’t realize that. All he could think about was Maddie.

  “Zack, Maddie’s smart. She’ll be all right. And she’s not alone, Freddy and Jason are with her,” I whispered.

  He shook his head and tried turning around, right toward the sound of the figure following us.

  “Zack,” I said again. “Look at me.”

  Then I slapped him.

  Not hard, but not soft, either. This worked pretty well. I was actually kind of surprised. I’d seen it in countless movies as a way to calm someone down, but I’d never believed it. I mean, why would slapping a frantic person calm them down? If anything, it would just piss them off and make them crazier.

  Zack looked at me and for the first time since fleeing from the bar, there was someth
ing like realization in those eyes. He nodded, and we took off again.

  “What’s your plan?” he asked me, his voice breathless and quiet.

  As we wound up the hill toward the mountain, I felt the evil lessen. It was probably just my imagination, but I don’t know. That’s what I felt.

  “I’m not sure yet. We’ll see when we get to the mine.”

  “The mine?” Zack asked.

  I nodded and picked up my pace.

  It was beyond full dark now.

  I have to break that pesky writing rule again. You remember, right? The one about first person narratives. I think it makes sense here.

  The group had gotten split up. I can’t tell you what happened to them through my eyes, so I’ll tell you through Maddie’s. She, Jason, and Freddy were together, and she saw what happened.

  I wish it hadn’t happened.

  I know Maddie wishes the same.

  She felt Zack’s hand in her own as they left Cageface behind. Zack was leading her, practically dragging her over a low, wooden fence, and into a clearing before the dense woods took over again.

  Her heart was pounding in her chest.

  Maddie and Zack couldn’t go over together, and letting go of his hand so he could hop over and scope out the other side had been a lot harder than she’d imagined it would be.

  Finally, over the fence she went. She helped Freddy come down on the other side, but the stoner wasn’t graceful. Jason had landed next to her and helped his friend, too.

  But Zack and Abe went on.

  She called after them, but it was no use. For about a quarter-mile, she and the others had gained on them along the trail, with the branches and tall grass slapping and prodding at her through her jeans.

  Then the trail turned rocky and uneven, and the land had steadily risen.

  She heard a snap behind her and a quiet cry.

  Freddy had fallen. She hoped the snap came from a stray tree branch, but something deep inside of her told her otherwise. It was Freddy’s ankle.