by Derek Slaton
“Pete!” Daphne screamed as the Butcher plunged his hand through her boyfriend’s chest. She choked on her breath at the sight of her love’s heart in the evil man’s fist.
The maniac shoved the corpse to the ground, sliding his arm back through the hole he’d made in Pete’s chest.
Daphne braced herself against the wall to help get off the ground, but her opponent was too quick. He lifted her off of the floor by the throat. She swung a few times as the life choked out of her, but the impact barely drew a reaction from him.
“Hehehehehehehe,” the killer laughed as he squeezed his toy tightly.
Daphne stared into the gleeful joy in his eyes brought on by her slow agonizing death. She gasped for air, swinging her arms wildly.
A sharp pain licked her right arm as it clipped something hard. She looked over and saw the knife still embedded in his shoulder. Using every bit of strength she still had, she wrapped her hand around the blade and pulled. As soon as it was free she jabbed it directly into his eye.
The pain forced the behemoth to let go of his prey.
He thrashed about in the tiny room, slamming against the walls.
Daphne scrambled on the floor, narrowly avoiding being crushed beneath a giant’s foot. Horrific screams continued from the back room as she stumbled through the house towards the front door.
“No, this ends now,” she said, and turned back to the kitchen. She flung open the cabinet doors and grabbed two large moonshine containers before moving back towards her tormenter. The Butcher collapsed onto the floor and took notice that his plaything was still here.
“Heheheheheheheheh,” he laughed and wrapped his hand around the hilt, pulling the blade from its fleshy sheath.
“Yeah you keep laughing,” Daphne taunted as she threw the two glass containers in his direction. They landed a couple feet in front of him, shattering upon impact. The liquid streamed into the small room and soaked into his clothes.
“Heheheheheheheheheh,” he continued.
Daphne pulled out Cooper’s lighter and flicked it on. “Burn mother fucker,” she snapped before tossing it.
The metal lighter clanged against the floor, spinning around before settling. The flame quickly spread across the liquid, engulfing the Butcher. He screamed while desperately patting himself down, doing nothing but escalating the blaze. His prey quickly hobbled towards the exit as the shrieks of pain continued.
She reached the van before collapsing on the ground, exhausted from the ordeal. “That’s right, burn mother fucker!” she screamed.
Her jovial tone ended when her screams were answered from the house. She tensed up as the flaming Butcher emerged from the doorway, sprinting down the trail towards the lake.
“How are you alive?!?” she screamed.
“How are you alive?!?” She clawed at her face.
“How are you alive?!?”
EPILOGUE
“You’re lucky to be alive, you know that?” the nurse asked as she checked Daphne’s vitals. “But I wouldn’t worry too much, your injuries should heal in a few weeks and you’ll be good as new.”
Daphne sat unresponsive, deciding it was better to keep quiet than to lay into this sheltered nurse. Physical wounds may heal, but the mental ones that come with watching your friends butchered were going to take a bit longer.
“Ma’am, do you mind if I ask you some questions?” a police detective asked from the doorway. “We’d really like to find out what happened up there.”
“Sure, come on in,” Daphne responded, catching the nurse off guard.
“Glad you aren’t mute anymore,” she said playfully, prompting a glare from Daphne.
The officer stepped forward. “Daphne, I’m Detective Winston Jones. Can you tell me what happened?”
“My friends and I went up to the lake for the weekend, just to have some fun. Then the first night we were there Buddy Bagwell started killing everyone,” she answered.
“Oh honey that’s just an urban legend,” the nurse blurted out, again drawing her patient’s ire.
“Nurse, could you give us a few minutes?” Detective Jones politely asked.
“Okay, if you need anything I’ll be right outside,” she said before exiting the room. Detective Jones locked the door behind her before moving closely to Daphne.
“Why did you say Buddy Bagwell?” he asked, eyes stern.
Daphne was flustered at his reaction. “Because… because one of my friends told us the story about Camp Barlow.”
Jones paled. “What did he look like?”
“He was large, like six and a half feet tall. Over three hundred pounds,” she replied.
He swallowed hard. “Did he have burns?”
“He was all bandaged up like he was hurt,” she told him.
“Did he have burns?” the Detective demanded.
“I don’t know but he does now, because I set his ass on fire!” Daphne snapped.
Jones clenched his jaw. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t know. He was running towards the lake the last I saw him.” She shook her head.
The Detective paced, disturbed by the news.
“Detective Jones, why are you upset?” Daphne’s brow furrowed.
“Because I’m the one who found Buddy ten years ago up at that camp,” he explained. “I’m the one who decided to protect the camp owners instead of sending Buddy to jail. And ever since he burned down the Bastrop Asylum last month, I’m the one that’s been hunting him down.”
“No, that can’t be.” She gasped. “So Buddy Bagwell is real?”
The Detective nodded. “And he’s still out there…”
END
