Chapter 14 Freddy #2
The front door of the cabin was closed, the windows dark.
That was a good sign. Russ hadn’t stormed back inside, leaving the door ominously ajar.
All the lights were off. The power was still out.
That would work to Freddy’s advantage. It would be easier to hide in the shadows and wait out the night.
He crept around Ranger Russ’s SUV, checking underneath first, keeping below the windows in case Russ was hiding in the back seat. All clear. Only about twenty paces from the front porch. He could make it.
He was about to dart across to the steps when he stiffened. He had the feeling of being watched. A lifting of hairs on his neck, the sensation of the air currents against his skin shifting.
Weed put you in tune with the universe. And the universe was telling him he wasn’t alone.
Freddy listened to what the universe had to say. The drip of rainwater sluicing off the cabin’s roof and onto the front porch. A bird trilling from deep within the trees. A multitude of chirping crickets. The gentle, patient crunch of footsteps on gravel.
The last sound turned his bowels to ice. Someone was trying to be as stealthy as him. He peeked under the chassis of Russ’s car, and saw booted feet standing on the other side.
Shit. Shit!
Freddy slowly lowered himself to the ground and slid underneath the car.
Thankfully Russ had been obliging enough to park over a natural dip in the ground, and Freddy was able to comfortably squeeze underneath.
Just in time, too. The boots began to move, stepping around the car. Like they were looking for someone.
Like they were looking for him.
Freddy tried to think background player thoughts, but his heart was beating too fast. Okay, what would Jason Statham do? A movie hero would never hide under a car, unless he was planning an ambush. So what would Frederick Min do? What was the one thing Freddy was good at?
Running away. He excelled at that.
His shaking fingers closed around a pebble as he watched those boots, waiting for the toes to point away from the car. That would be his cue to flick the pebble in that direction and hope it sent Russ toward it. Then he’d scooch out and take off into the woods.
The boots stopped, the scuffed leather toes just inches from his nose.
Freddy forgot how to breathe. The rasp of creasing denim breached the silent night like tearing paper.
Russ was about to find him. Freddy’s hand went rigid around the pebble, totally forgetting his escape plan.
He felt like an ant watching a magnifying glass come closer, powerless to do anything about it.
A knife blade swept under the car.
Freddy yelped and swerved his body away, the blade missing his neck by inches. Panicked, he kicked out at his attacker from under the car. His skateboard sneaker was no match for the sturdy leg it connected with, but it bought him enough time to roll out from under the SUV and dart for freedom.
“Ow!” came a female voice, sounding more dismayed than homicidal.
Freddy halted his dash to the woods and turned around to see Carrie folded over, rubbing her shin.
“Carrie?”
“Freddy?” Carrie glanced up. She looked none the worse for wear, although her chest was heaving and there was a scrape on her cheek. “Oh my gosh, I thought you were Ranger Russ.”
“I thought you were Russ.” He threw his arms around her in a hug. “You’re alive!”
She patted his back with the hand that held the bread knife. “Yeah, I’m fine. No thanks to you.”
She’d almost made bruschetta out of him, so they were even. “I thought you were right behind me,” he said.
“I was trying to figure out who that guy we saw was. What were you doing under the car?”
“I was about to go inside the cabin and I heard someone. I guess it was you.”
“Freddy—” Carrie had the face of someone with bad news, like a doctor about to tell him he had a terminal disease.
Freddy braced for the worst. “That guy we saw…I’m not sure if you noticed.
He was holding an axe and wearing a buffalo plaid jacket.
I think it was Russ. He was the right height and build. ”
Freddy snatched the vape pen out of his pocket and desperately inhaled. For once it didn’t help. He’d been right. They were in the Slasher cabin, and now the Slasher was coming for them.
Carrie glanced around, searching the shadows. “Have you seen anyone else?”
“I guess no one’s back yet.”
“There’s still time. Hopefully they found Michael.”
Her brow creased with worry. Freddy shook his head. This was what taking the initiative got you. Mikey wanted to be the leading man, and now he was lost in the woods, if not butchered by Ranger Russ.
Gravel clung to Freddy’s sweaty palms. He wiped them on the front of his hoodie. He was filthy from rolling in the mud underneath Russ’s car. The same mud smeared the front of Carrie’s formerly pristine white tank top, from where he’d hugged her.
“Sorry about your top,” Freddy said.
Carrie glanced down at herself and gave a weak smile. “It’s okay. Camouflage. If I’d known we were going to be hunted in the woods, I wouldn’t have worn white.”
“Patrick neglected to mention that highlight of this weekend when he invited me,” Freddy grumbled, unzipping his hoodie.
He took it off and shook it out as best he could.
A trail of mud and gravel in the cabin would lead Russ right to him.
“I don’t know why I came. All I wanted was to brag to the new Slasher shadow cast that I’d stayed overnight at the cabin.
And now Ranger Russ is out for blood. Fuck, I always knew he was creepy.
You could tell just by looking at him. Those buggy Peter Lorre eyes. He probably still lives with his mom.”
Okay, Freddy still lived with his mom, too, but that was different.
“Though I haven’t seen Mrs. Meachum around for a while,” Freddy added. “Someone had better check their house to make sure there isn’t a Norman Bates situation going on there.”
He tied the sleeves of his hoodie around his waist, and suddenly realized Carrie had gone very quiet. He glanced up. She took a step back, her eyes wide. His pulse began to race and his opened senses picked up a shifting of leaves behind them.
“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he,” Freddy croaked, anticipating the slide of steel between his shoulder blades. It figured. Talking trash about the bad guy had summoned him, like it did in movies.
Carrie took another step back, but she didn’t run. Not yet. “Freddy?”
She turned on her flashlight and pointed it at the chest of his striped shirt. Freddy threw up his arms to shield his eyes from the light. “Hey!”
“What is that?”
Freddy glanced down at his spotlit torso. It was hard to tell with the red stripes, but there was definitely something dark splattered across the front of his T-shirt. More mud?
Then it dawned on him and he laughed. “I got caught in the splatter zone at work. This year’s shadow cast uses twice as much fake blood as we did.”
“The mask in your van—” Carrie gasped. “It’s been you all along, dressing up like the Slasher. You almost killed Tiffany.”
“What? What’re you talking about?” Freddy’s thoughts crawled sluggishly as he tried to process what she was saying.
“Did you do something to Michael?”
What? Did she even know him at all? He laughed again, but the terrified expression on Carrie’s face told him it was the wrong reaction.
“What have you been smoking?” he demanded.
Carrie winced like she’d been slapped. Right. He forgot she didn’t do drugs, except for that time she accidentally ate too many of his brownies.
“How could I be in two places at once? We both saw that guy in the mist together!” he protested.
“I lost sight of him after you ran away. Maybe it was just a fan in costume.” Her face drained of color. “Were you hiding under the car to ambush me? Killing people would be good research for your screenplay.”
“Yeah, it would, but I’m not a killer! C’mon, this is stupid! We have to get inside. Russ is out there!”
He reached for her arm. Carrie pulled away from him, brandishing the bread knife. Like he was a threat!
“Stay back!”
“Carrie—” Didn’t she know they had to hide? Fucking Final Girls, always having to make their last stand.
She shook her head like she was trying to flick away a mosquito.
“Carrie, c’mon! It’s me! Your friendly neighborhood stoner!”
She gave him one last searching look, and for a moment Freddy was sure she was going to cave. Then she spun on her heel, turning off the flashlight and sprinting into the darkness. The retreating back of her tank top made Freddy think of a white-tailed deer fleeing to safety.
“Main characters, man,” Freddy muttered as he slipped inside the darkened cabin alone.
Main characters made poor choices. Not him.
There was a reason why horror film characters didn’t just leave or hide out until things were safe.
Otherwise they wouldn’t be in a movie. The audience wouldn’t be clutching their friends’ arms and yelling, Turn around! and Run, you dumb bitch! at the screen.
Well, the joke was on Russ. Freddy was going to write himself out of this movie. Cut, and fade to black.