16: Back at the Old Church

I clung to the top of the chair, ready to pull it back and let the pitchfork do its work. I was trigger-happy, ready to pull now, but had to control the urge. I only had one shot at this.

The shuffling stopped. I leaned toward the wall, listening. Nothing. Waited some more. Still nothing.

Me and Carrie exchanged a look—one of those “what the hell is this thing doing?” looks.

My nerves were so on edge I thought if human spontaneous combustion was possible, I was going to explode right there.

Where…is…it?” Carrie whispered through her teeth.

I…don’t…know,” I whispered through mine.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m gonna look,” I said, getting up and heading for the door.

Carrie grabbed my arm, easily stopping me—as I wasn’t all that eager to step into my death.

“Just pull the chair when it comes in. K?”

Carrie nodded.

That door. That awful door seemed to mock me—challenge me. It questioned my manhood. Was I really going to be bold enough to approach it, when I feared that the Slasher was just around the corner, waiting. It took a lot of effort to take those few steps to get less than three feet further, and even when my feet moved toward it, I leaned my head back.

I held my breath, forced myself forward so quickly that I nearly tripped forward.

No sign of the Slasher. Just the empty hall.

I turned back to Carrie, shrugged to let her know that it was a no show. It was kind of a shame too. I was looking forward to pulverizing its ass.

A hand reached down, grabbed me by the collar of the flannel shirt I was wearing, and pulled me into the air.

SPRING! RIP!

“FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!”

I made the same scream that I’d heard Seth make just days earlier during the accident in soccer. I don’t think I’d ever screamed so loud in all my life, but the pain in my back hurt like shit.

“Oh my God!” I heard Carrie panic.

Her nerves must have been on edge as mine had been, cause the moment she saw movement, she’d pulled the trigger, and now I could feel the sharp prongs of the pitchfork stinging in my shoulder. It felt like my chest was turning into stone. My mind was scattered, and all I could see was the black hood of the Slasher’s cloak in my face.

What the fuck? I thought as I tried to rationalize how it had just appeared in the doorway that fast. That’s when I realized. It was actually on the ceiling. Literally holding itself up with its leg and arm equivalents. I hadn’t even thought of it being able to climb like that. Another realization came fast. That’s what it must have done in the woods. That’s why I hadn’t ever able to see it until it was too late.

Well, it was too late for me now. It pulled me towards its hood. Two long sticklike things came out of the front of the hood—like little pincers. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I would have been disgusted by the idea that the Slasher was some giant bug, but the pain gave me some distance from reality. Though, to be perfectly honest, the enormity of the pain in my shoulder was so intense that it blocked out all the other pain I’d been experiencing in so many other places. There was something nice about that. But at the same time, I still had a pitchfork in my back. And it did hurt like fuck.

The Slasher threw me back. The pitchfork rig swung me back and then brought me forward again before my weight forced the pole holding the pitchfork to snap. I toppled to the floor, landing on the pitchfork, which dug even deeper into my back.

“Shit!” Carrie cried as she vicariously experienced my pain.

The Slasher dropped from the ceiling. The creak the floorboards made sounded like they were struggling to bend.

I sat up. The pitchfork, still jammed into my back, rose with me. There was this odd rush of energy surging through me. It was so intense that I was shaking.

Carrie was hyperventilating nearly as much as I’m sure I’d been in the mausoleum. I’m sure she felt shitty about being responsible for my most recent and most serious injury. And she should of.

The Slasher didn’t give me a chance to yell at her about how she should’ve been more careful. It lunged at me, its yellow claws stretched out before it.

I didn’t have any way of running. I was trapped. And when you trap an animal, it fights back.

“Come and get me bitch!” I exclaimed.