3. Tess
TESS
I’d lost too much ground making up my mind.
As I sprinted into Feverpoint, hurtling past the overgrown rides and stands of the old amusement park, I could hear the guys behind me, ripping the fence open and piling inside.
They yelled after me, spotting me as I careened onto one of the main, cobblestone paths that weaved throughout the park.
Tall weeds stuck out from the cracks in the stone.
My feet burned, the worn soles of my sneakers disintegrating against the friction.
Looking over my shoulder, I watched the men sprinting after me.
I couldn’t put enough distance between us. If they had eyes on me, I wouldn’t be able to escape.
Scanning the sides of the main walkway, I hunted for a place to peel off — to slip into the shadows and hide.
The amusement park was quiet, other than the sound of my heavy breaths and the men chasing after me. If I could just find a place to take cover…
But a scream from behind me drew my eyes back. One of my attackers was gone.
“What the fuck!” the one in the wife beater yelled out as he kept pushing toward me.
My lungs were on fire as I forced myself onward.
Until another yelp sounded behind me. Another man was gone.
They’re probably trying to loop around. Get me from the front.
Taking my chance, I turned down a narrow alley. It was decorated like a noir film, a place for back alley deals and cartoon gangsters.
“Fuck!” I hissed as I realized the fake alley was just that — fake. A dead end. A photo op from a bygone era.
Staring at the brick wall, graffited with an eerie smiley face, I tried to figure out if I could scale it.
But it was at least seven feet up.
“Out of luck, slut.” One in the flannel cackled from behind me.
Turning around, my chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.
Rage filled his face, the alcohol and adrenaline mixing into a lethal cocktail.
And I was trapped.
Their numbers had dwindled, just three of them now.
The other two were gone. And their friends weren’t calling for them.
Closing in, the dirtbags were desperate now. They were going to make me pay for running.
Grabbing my arms, the three of them pushed me into the brick wall. They ripped at the fabric of my shirt.
“Stop!” Thrashing, I was desperate to stop them.
But my eyes widened when I looked over their shoulders.
Towering over Wife Beater, a pale, white mask with a red frown stared back at me. Its mouth and eyes were stitched over with thick twine.
Dark eyes stared back at me, not looking away as the sharp blade of a machete crossed over the Wife Beater’s neck. One, swift slash appeared across his throat.
His grip on me loosened, his hand darting to his trachea. Looking at his hands, he tried to speak. But all that came out was the sound of gurgled blood.
“Holy shit!” The other two men screamed as two more masked clowns appeared, grabbing their arms and throwing them to the ground.
Wearing a hard, porcelain looking mask with card suits painted on the surface, a clown with curly brown hair lifted a massive mallet over her head and slammed it down on her target's head.
A deafening crack rang out across the alley as his skull collapsed in on itself.
My mouth fell open, unable to speak as I watched blood splatter across the concrete.
A third clown, with painted blood splatters and black paint surrounded the mouth and eye holes, leapt onto the third attacker. Pinning him to the ground, the freak brought two sharp axes to his throat.
In a manic crackle, the clown asked, “Any last words?”
Before the man could beg for his life, the clown slammed the blades of her axes down into the man’s chest.
Blood spurted out from the wound as soon as she lifted her axes out of his chest cavity.
My hands shook as the three clowns stood before me. Crimson covered their tattered clothes, dark abysses staring back at me beneath their masks.
The clowns blocked my path. One threat replaced another.
Finally able to utter words, all I could manage to say was, “What the fuck?!”