Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

Seeing the weapon, the teachers at Peter’s side jumped to their feet and backed away as the photographer raised the gun in their direction and very calmly approached his victim.

  Katie wanted to run. Every instinct told her to hightail it out of there, but frozen with the same fear that was apparently keeping everyone else in the inner circle from fleeing, she continued to watch.

  Seemingly oblivious to the hundreds of eyes surrounding him, the photographer stopped beside Peter’s body, the football player’s open eyes and lack of movement confirming his condition. With a smile, the man began whistling a little tune as he placed the leather sole of his shoe on Peter’s head and leaning over, yanked the blade from the jock’s skull.

  The crowd gasped as crying began to break out from numerous directions.

  Wiping the blade off on his khakis, the photographer looked up at the crowd, and zeroing right in on Katie, simply said, “say cheese,” before vanishing into thin air.

  Baffled by what they’d just witnessed, the group of onlookers remained frozen for a moment, until the same girl who had called Katie a whale, issued another statement; this time in the form of a high pitched scream.

  Like a gunshot starting a race, the scream sent everyone fleeing toward the exits. The bottleneck of bodies instantly created an impenetrable wall, on the other side of which Katie spotted her father and sister trying to fight their way through.

  “Daddy!” Katie screamed as she started toward them.

  “Out of the way!” Phil yelled at the sea of terrified kids pushing him away from his daughter.

  “Katie, were coming!” Sarah yelled as a panicked student crashed into her, knocking her to the ground.

  “Sarah!” Phil cried as he turned from Katie for moment to help his fallen daughter.

  “Katherine Bishop,” a voice behind Katie whispered as a hand grabbed her shoulder.

  Spinning around, Katie saw the photographer standing behind her.

  Anticipating the scream, the man slapped his bloodied hand over her mouth while issuing a “shhh,” as his eyes traveled down to her stomach and then back up to her face. “We wouldn’t want to upset the little one now, would we."

  Katie didn’t know what to do. Standing in the center of the abandoned dance floor, she could run in any direction but where was she going to go? There was no way she was going to get through the fleeing mob. Her eyes darting from side to side, she suddenly spotted a glowing exit sign on stage.

  “That’s him! That’s him!” Katie heard her sister shout, followed by her father screaming “Katie!” as he fired a shot into the air in a desperate attempt to make a hole in the crowd.

  Taking advantage of the photographer’s momentary distraction, Katie knocked his hand away and bolted for the stage.

  Rolling his eyes, Jason let out a sigh before locking eyes with the advancing officer who’d finally managed to break through the crowd, and was now charging across the dance floor. With a grin, Jason closed his eyes and disappeared.

  Hesitating in his advance, Phil stared at the spot where his daughter’s attacker had just stood. “What the…?” he commented as Sarah finally caught up to him.

  “Katie,” Sarah refocused her father’s attention as they looked up to see Katie on the stage and running for the stage right exit.

  “Katie! Stop!” Phil shouted, his command going unheard as his daughter almost crashed through the door, sliding to a halt as she grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

  “We’re not done yet,” Jason greeted her on the other side as the door swung open.

  Screaming, she tried to slam the door shut again, but was out muscled by Jason as he shoved the door out of the way and grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair as she turned to flee.

  Charging her attacker, Phil ignored the three steps and leapt onto the stage, almost losing his footing as the rug beneath his feet slid, knocking over a couple of microphone stands.

  “Whoa! Dad! Careful there,” Jason taunted as he pulled Katie to his chest, pulling her head back by her hair and placing the knife to her throat.

  Pointing his gun at the man, Phil continued to move forward.

  “I don’t think you get it. You move. She dies,” Jason clarified the assumed understood rules. “Or maybe you’ll understand this better.” Lowering the blade from the terrified girl’s throat, he pressed it against her stomach.

  Phil stopped.

  “Yeah. Now you understand.”

  “Shoot him!” Sarah shouted from the dance floor beside the stage.

  Keeping himself concealed behind the crying girl, Jason shot Sarah a look before returning his attention to her father.

  “I don’t think so, Phil. I can call you Phil right?”

  Phil didn’t respond, keeping his gun trained on its target.

  “While I don’t doubt your abilities with that thing, you and I both know that you wouldn’t take the chance of shooting your little girl…s.”

  “What do you want?” Phil growled.

  “I have a little business with your granddaughter and then, I’ll be on my way.”

  “My granddaughter?” Phil asked in shock, having no idea what the unborn child could possibly have to do with this.

  “Though...I did make a promise to a friend a little while ago,” he glanced back at Sarah again.

  “Jason, put the knife down,” Sarah calmly pleaded.

  “I’ve got big plans for that one, Phil.”

  “You’re not going to touch my family.”

  “Really,” Jason tilted his head to the side as he turned the knife and began fake jabbing at Katie’s stomach, stopping the tip of the blade just before making contact with the fabric of the pink dress while taunting, “I’m not touching her. I’m not touching her.”

  Terrified Katie squealed with each fake jab until finally closing her tear filled eyes just as Mark came charging across the dance floor and, diving onto the stage, toppled Jason like an angrily thrown bowling ball picking up the spare.

  Opening her eyes at the commotion, Katie turned to see Mark and the photographer crash into a group of spare musical instruments. Though her father was only twenty feet in front of her, her last thought had been focused on the door to her back, so seeing her chance, she turned.

  “Katie!” Phil shouted as his daughter disappeared through the open door. “Go! Find her!” he yelled to Sarah before charging the pile of instruments dancing on top of the struggling kids.

  Following her father’s instructions, Sarah leapt onto the stage and ran after her sister, leaving her father to deal with Jason.

  “Let him go!” Phil ordered as he approached the scuffle, his gun drawn on the commotion before realizing that it was only Mark under the pile of guitars and brass instruments. “Mark! Where is he?!”

  Caught up in his battle with the pile of metal and wood, Mark too hadn’t even realized that he’d been fighting with nothing but a pile of inanimate objects as he ceased his struggle and looked up at the gun pointed at him.

  “Mark, you're hurt,” Phil addressed the boy, spotting his blood soaked side.

  “So are you, Dad.”

  “Look out!” Mark shouted, pointing over Phil’s shoulder as Jason’s knife pierced the right side of his neck and erupted from the left with a spray of blood.

  With the shock of the unexpected attack, Phil’s hand jerked and with it, a single shot erupted from his gun, striking Mark in the chest.

  Twisting the knife, the blood spurting from the officer’s jugular sprayed out, soaking the nearby stage curtains as the accompanying crimson river gushed out over his shoulder, down his arm and onto the floor where, after a brief struggle, Phil eventually fell.

  Taking the gun from the dead officer, Jason turned to Mark who, though bleeding from the chest and side now, was still struggling to get away as he shoved aside a toppled trombone in his attempt to flee.

  As the boy dragged himself across the stage, Jason slowly followed, giving Mark hope with every second that he delayed his attack, wh
ile at the same time confirming the inevitable with every exchanged glance as Mark occasionally looked over his shoulder.

  With more important things to do, Jason stepped on the back of Mark’s knee, halting his forward progress.

  Realizing his fate, Mark gave up, placed his forehead on the stage floor and began to weep as Jason raised the gun.

  *****

  The sound of the second shot made her jump just as much as the first had. She could only hope that her father was alright and that this nightmare was over as she made her way down the dimly lit hall.

  “Katie. Katie, where are you?” Sarah whispered, looking in each room that she passed.

  This part of the building appeared to be used as a community center for the arts, each room having an almost school-like setup with desks, art tables, posters of music charts and color pallets on the walls.

  “Katie. It’s Sarah. Where are you?”

  “In here,” the musty air responded with a faint whisper.

  Not sure where it had come from, Sarah stopped and listened. There were only two rooms left ahead of her, but she hadn’t entered and thoroughly checked each room that she’d already passed, so Katie’s response could have come from anywhere.

  “Where?” Sarah asked, waiting for a response until finally another “Here,” came floating through the air.

  The sound had come from behind her. Turning, she rechecked the room she’d just passed. As before, it was dark. Stepping just inside, she searched for a light switch, finding three beside the door. The first switch snapped upward with a faint click but offered no visual aid. Trying the second, she again got no response so she wasn’t surprised when the third also refused to help.

  She’d seen enough horror films to know how this went. The lights were out, probably because the killer, in this case Jason, somehow disabled them. He was probably anticipating that her foolish curiosity and need to find her sister would lead her to adventure carelessly further into the room where he was likely waiting to jump out and make her pay for such stupidity. Well if this was a trap and she was playing the part of the silly girl, she’d just have to be ready to defend herself. Spotting a collapsed umbrella, standing in a brass pot beside the door, she stepped further inside. Though not an ideal weapon, she was pleased to see that the umbrella possessed a steel point on the end. Though not sharp, it did at least add some formidability to the impromptu weapon.

  Holding the umbrella in both hands, she ventured into the room.

  “Katie. Are you in here?” she whispered.

  There was no response. Continuing further into the art room, Sarah slowly bobbed between a sea of tall easels, each holding a large canvas with varying depictions of the same, human like figure. With no windows however, the further she got from the dim light of the hall, the harder it became to safely navigate without bumping into a few of the artistic renderings. Grabbing hold of one of the canvases as it teetered on its perch, Sarah stopped.

  “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself. "Obviously Katie's not in here," she thought. She would have responded by now and if she wandered any further into the room she ran the risk of becoming trapped if Jason was by chance plotting an attack.

  Deciding to return to the hall, she turned just as a large dark figure entered her vision. Screaming, she swung the umbrella, striking the figure and stumbling backwards as the towering object fell toward her.

  Throwing her arms up over her head, she ran into an easel, sending it toppling into another nearby wooden tripod and then another. The sound of metal and wood filled the room as Sarah froze in fear, waiting for the pain of Jason’s attack, however as the last object rolled to a stop beside her, she was relieved to have survived the commotion, injury free. Relaxing, she lowered her arms.

  “Sarah.”

  Again she screamed, turning toward the door where a bright light was shining in at her.

  “It’s me,” the figure turned the light on himself.

  “Derek,” Sarah sighed with relief. “What did I—?”

  Pointing the light at the floor, the scattered components from a suit of armor lay all around her, the only portion remaining on the platform being that of two feet and a precariously balanced leg. Adding to the mess were the toppled easels and scattered canvases on which various, childlike interpretations of the intricate, metallic figure had been formed.

  “What are you doing? Where’s your sister?”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s down her somewhere. She ran when—.”

  Knowing what was coming, Derek prepared for the question.

  “My dad. Did you see my dad?”

  He didn’t know how to respond, but then again, he didn’t have to. She could see it in his eyes, and instantly her’s began to fill with tears.

  “We need to find your sister,” Derek attempted to refocus her attention on the task at hand.

  There would be plenty of time for mourning but they’d be mourning the loss of one more if they didn’t hurry.

  “Where did you see her last?” Derek pressed.

  Before she could answer however, the sounds of a poorly played trombone filled the basement.

  Looking toward the door, Sarah simply said, “across the hall,” as she recalled the room filled with musical instruments.

  Attempting to avoid the scattered debris, they hurried toward the door and stepped into the hall. The music room was dark, just as the art room had been, the light from the hall only managing to penetrate about five feet before succumbing to blackness.

  “Stay behind me,” Derek whispered as he withdrew a gun from his waistband and advanced toward the room.

  Before he could even set foot inside the threshold though, the lights snapped on, illuminating the dozens of instruments, all laid out in a large, neat circle around the room. At the center of the room was Katie, gagged, and bound to a chair with Jason standing beside her, the trombone to his lips and his cheeks puffed as he struggled to make even one crisp note from the large brass instrument.

  “Let her go,” Derek demanded as Sarah joined him in the doorway.

  “Katie!”

  Terrified, Katie struggled to speak through the rag tied around her mouth as Jason continued to blow one bad note after another, the tune he was attempting to play finally coming together as Derek recognized the theme music to Jeopardy.

  Finishing the final jeopardy theme with those two familiar notes, Jason tilted the trombone to one side to get a better look at his new guests. “Not bad, huh?” he smiled, pleased with himself. “Can you believe that it took me two months to finally be able to play that?”

  “You could have used two more,” Derek critiqued.

  “Ouch,” Jason placed his hand over his chest. “I guess you’re right though. Music was never really my strong suit,” he acknowledged as he placed the trombone back on its stand beside the chair.

  “Let her go, Jason,” Derek threatened, holding the gun out in front of him.

  “A gun? Really? Have you not learned anything yet?” Jason sighed. “Alright, how does this go?” he groaned as he moved behind Katie, who grew more historical as her captor’s hands rested upon her shoulders. Ducking down behind his hostage, Jason taunted, “go ahead, shoot,” as he bobbed back and forth, first looking over Katie’s right shoulder and then her left before finally standing back up and taking his position beside her once again. “We both know who’s in control here, so why don’t you just put the gun down and—”

  Two quick shots erupted from the gun. Sarah jumped and Katie screamed a muffled cry as Jason vanished, the two bullets striking the cymbals of a drum set to her back. Almost instantly, while the cymbals still chimed, Jason reappeared, now on Katie’s right side as Derek pulled the trigger again, sending three more bullets into the far wall. Again, Jason disappeared.

  “This is just getting silly now,” Jason responded to the attack from the far end of the room, his chair tipped back and feet up on the desk behind which he sat. “Are you done yet? Eventually you’ll ru
n out of bullets and we’ll be right back where we started.”

  Realizing the futility in any continued attack, Derek lowered the gun.

  “Good,” Jason vanished once again.

  Scanning the room, trying to figure out where he’d rematerialize, Derek and Sarah exchanged a look as no sign of Jason could be found until…

  “Now, back to business.”

  Turning, they spotted Jason once again standing beside Katie as he grabbed the trombone from the stand and, yanking off the slide, issued a menacing smile before plunging the two pronged, brass weapon into Katie’s stomach.

  “No!” Sarah screamed as her sister’s eyes widened, the slide passing clean through and exiting her back as she slumped forward in the chair.

  “You son of a—!” Derek charged Jason as Sarah ran to her sister’s side.

  Squaring for the impact, Jason vanished, sending Derek careening into the drum set.

  “Katie! Oh god Katie!” Sarah cried, pulling the gag from her sister’s mouth and lifting her head to look into her fading eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Unable to speak, tears ran down Katie’s face as she stared at her sister in shock before lowering her gaze to the shiny brass object protruding from her stomach.”

  “Oh god, no,” Sarah grabbed the trombone slide, ready to pull, then reconsidered for fear of opening the wound and potentially causing her sister to bleed out. It wasn’t until their eyes locked again that she realized what was running through Katie’s mind. Though unable to speak, her eyes said it all. “The Baby.”

  “It missed,” Sarah attempted to comfort her sister as she took another look at the wound. “It’s alright. She’s okay,” she continued, but quickly realized the futility of her words as she met her sister’s eyes once again, but this time, couldn’t find Katie within them. “No!”

  “Awe.”

  Looking up, Sarah saw Jason standing right where he had been when Derek had charged. Jumping to her feet she swung, surprised as she landing a solid right.

  Holding his jaw, Jason smiled just as Derek connected with his lower back, sending them both tumbling into a nearby cello and pair of violins. Ending up on top of the fallen psychopath, Derek began delivering blow after blow. Obviously too distracted by the wave of attacks to gather enough concentration to initiate a jump, Jason took hit after hit.