“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’tbe in a movie. The audience wouldn’t be clutching their friends’ arms and yelling,Turn around!andRun, 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.
15
Freddy
The interior of the cabin seemed extra dark to Freddy after Carrie had pointed the flashlight in his face. Nonsensical shadowy shapes swum in the front room. Freddy rubbed his eyes. The vape wasn’tthatstrong.
One shape did come clear. A tall figure loomed in the corner. Shit! The Slasher was inside! Freddy stepped backward and tripped over a throw pillow. On the bright side, it softened his fall. But that meant nothing since he was now laid out like a smorgasbord for Russ’s murderous urges. Would he use the knife or the axe? Freddy quickly squirmed into a sitting position, anticipating the drop of steel, and realized the figure hadn’t moved. In fact, it was curiously still. And flat.
Freddy’s eyes slowly adjusted. Holy fuck. He’d nearly pissed his pants because of a Slasher standee. Thank God no one was around to witness his mistake. Jen would’ve never let him live that down.
Freddy struggled to his feet and took stock of his surroundings. It looked like a tornado had swept through. A dining chair stood by the door, cushions were scattered everywhere except the sofa, and the striped blanket was missing. The draft coming from the open windows had washed away some of the pine-scented air freshener, but Freddy’s nose still tickled, along with the back of his neck. What the fuck had happened here?
A crystal paperweight sat upside down on the table next to the rotary telephone, jogging his memory. Oh. Right. He and his friends had torn the place apart before Russ arrived. He dove for the phone. Maybe it was working now and he could call 911.
He picked up the receiver. Silence. At least that was better than the Slasher’s gravelly warning.You’re all going to die tonight.Freddy shivered. He prayed it was a crank call and not a prophecy. He checked his cell phone, too. Still no signal. That would’ve been too much of a miracle. Miracles never happened in horror movies. You had toearnyour survival.
Soft light glowed through the open windows. It was a full moon, like inFriday the 13th.A chill passed down Freddy’s back. Ugh, he shouldn’t have made that association. His brain brought up other movies that featured a full moon.An American Werewolf in London.The Witch.
“Shut up, brain, shut up!” he muttered to himself. Why did every horror movie have to have a full moon? Probably because they often took place at night, and the characters needed to be seen on-camera. Also, full moons were magnets for werewolves and witches and other monsters.
Moonstruck!That was safe. Nothing scary about that movie. Though with the antler chandelier casting trippy shadows on the ground, it was hard to think of young, romantic Nicolas Cage and not the blood-soaked avenger he’d played inMandy.
Freddy shuddered and turned away, just as a gentle sigh fluttered through the empty room.
Terror wrapped around his throat like a noose. He spun around—and nearly fell over with relief when he saw it was only the curtains, billowing around an open window. Fuck, he was an idiot. He’d fallen for a classic fake-out jumpscare from the horror playbook.
The air currents changed direction and the curtains flattened against the wall as Freddy passed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The sensation of being watched had returned, stronger than ever. Freddy urgently scanned the room—
—and found himself nose-to-nose with a face behind the curtain.
Freddy yelped and grabbed the crystal paperweight he’d left on the table. Arm swinging, he struck out at the Slasher, crying out when his knuckles hit wood paneling. The paperweight dropped to the floor.
“Ow! What the fuck?” Freddy rubbed his bruised knuckles. He swore Russ had been standing there! He wasn’tthathigh.
He wrenched the gauzy curtain aside. A plain white mask hung to the side of the window, judging him with its blank cutout eyes.
Freddy let out a nervous laugh. The mask was made of ceramic, not the plastic of a cosplay imitation. He should’ve known. InSlasher,a flashback showed how odd little Timmy Thompson, the boy who became the Slasher, had fixated on a decorative theater mask his mother had loved. Then, as an adult, he’d stolen a similar mask and put it on, before wreaking his bloody revenge on the cabin’s hapless inhabitants.
