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Dean stepped outside into the bracing night air and instantly regretted his decision. He didn’t even have any real idea what he was doing out here but neither did it matter particularly. He was clearly wasting his time with Bethany and pretty much everyone else had upped and left so he was fast running out of ideas. He left the door wide open as he began his short ramble, unaware of the shadowy figure of Olaf Lund moving in from the bushes to his left side. Dean could count himself lucky right now that he hadn’t incurred the instant wraith of his opposite number, but this wasn’t great news for those still inside the cabin. As Dean moved out of earshot, the man-mountain slid inside to take a look around for his next quarry. This was particularly wretched news for A.J. and Mike who were pretty much off with the fairies after their latest bong hits.
How they didn’t notice almost seven-foot of dense blubber advancing on their position was anyone’s guess but somehow they remained oblivious until Olaf was pretty much in their personal space. A.J. reacted first in his typically hazy manner.
“What the fucking fuck is that?”
Mike was no more cognizant to the imposing threat.
“Think you’re lost pal”
Olaf decided to observe the pair for a moment and was mildly perturbed by the fact that he hadn’t provoked more terror. Were the hacked off human body parts hanging from his necklace not enough? Were the pair immune to his terrorization? He had been in a rather chipper mood up until now after tearing Patricia apart with his bare hands but patience was not Olaf’s strong suit and this pair were beginning to test it to the max. Still blissfully unaware of the danger, A.J. attempted to open up communications once again.
“Can I help you fella? Speaka da English?”
This time there was a response, although not an encouraging one for A.J. and Mike. Olaf reached to his side and removed an industrial staple gun from his makeshift utility belt. Currently it was out of ammunition but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t make a rather splendid bludgeoning tool. This was precisely what he intended to use it for, although the penny wan’t any closer to dropping for his designated fodder. Indeed, Mike still found time to take another toke on the bong, before coughing up a little more of his guts and offering it to the newcomer.
“Care to join us?”
Had either one of them shown even the faintest degree of trepidation, then their fates would have been sealed by now, but Olaf was actually fascinated by their complete indifference. He grabbed the bong and held it up to his face for closer inspection. Meanwhile, A.J. had now begun to register the threat, after noticing the fleshy pendant around his thick neck.
“Dude. I don’t think our friend here is looking to make friends and influence people”
“What makes you say that?”
“You really are high aren’t you? Take a look at the dude’s necklace”
“Seriously? Nothing about that raises the red flag?”
“Maybe he’s just quirky”
“Grab your shit”
“Excuse me sir. Would you mind if I grab that bong back?”
A.J. was already backing up against the wall, while Mike held out his hand expectantly. Olaf’s strong point wasn’t conversation but a simple hand gesture he could fathom. It was clear to him that playtime was over thus he decided to do as was being requested, in his own inimitable manner of course. Raising the drug paraphernalia above his head, he thrust it rapidly down towards Mike’s face and it was all A.J. could do to pull his friend back before it made contact. Clattering against the floorboards, it shattered on impact, making it a far more potent weapon as he assumed position once again. Both of his proposed victims were now signing from the same hymn sheet, and scattered before the second strike could be delivered. A.J. then frantically made a dash for the front door, with Mike in close tow, as Olaf swung around furiously and commenced hot pursuit. No sooner had A.J. released the catch than the follow-up blow landed, only this time it was far more decisive and stopped the stoner dead in his tracks.
Using the jagged glass to work itself through the side of his skullcap, Olaf continued to press down until which point as the entire bong exploded in his grip. However, in his other hand was his trusty staple gun and this could withhold a great deal more punishment. A.J.’s frontal lobe was already overflowing in its own coulis, but three harsh strikes to the afflicted area were enough to deliver him to his ultimate death rattle. Mike watched on in abject horror, before performing a swift 180 as he bid to make his getaway fast. Regrettably, this caused something of an undesirable rush of blood, spinning him straight off-center and backwards into Olaf’s proximity. If there was any positive right now for Mike, then it was his opponent’s short-term enjoyment at the animation of his annihilated best friend’s death throes. This bought him just enough time to realign and this time he vacated the blocks with a great deal more conviction, lurching towards the staircase and grabbing the banister to steady himself.
Olaf had tired of his plaything now and refocused on more pressing matters. Sensing Mike’s refusal to simply roll into a protective shell and await his harsh judgement, he was forced into activating the feral instinct that had seen him good for protracted spells in the wilderness. He picked up A.J.’s twitching body and launched it at his want away quarry with some vigor. This quick thinking achieved a direct hit and the force alone of Mike’s head making contact with the fifth step was sufficient to knock him out stone cold and now pinned beneath 150 lb of dead weight. Olaf nonchalantly strode over to wrap up the hunt but, just as arrived at the bottom of the stairwell, something far more intriguing caught his eye at the top.
It was Bethany, wrapped only in her towel, and she was way past putting two and two together by now. Screaming at the very top of her lungs, she bolted off back to the bedroom and Olaf wasted no time in amending his priorities. Hurtling up the steps with absolutely no grace whatsoever, he followed her whimpers to her elected last-ditch getaway spot and walked straight through the oak door, splintering its hinges instantly, before trampling it down beneath his unkempt feet. Bethany was already halfway through the bedroom window but the sense of impending doom was enough to validate her decision and let gravity do its thing. The fall wasn’t far enough to break any bones but a dislocated shoulder and badly sprained ankle were hardly going to buy her any time. Olaf glared at her from his elevated vantage, incensed by her lack of willingness, and set off to finish the job. Thirty seconds isn’t long when you’re sporting an injury but she had no intention of wasting a solitary second.
Meanwhile, Dean had heard her cries despite his lack of hearing and that spoke volumes for her committed delivery. He turned on his heels and dashed back to see what was up, blissfully unaware that he was about to sprint directly into the eye of a shit storm. His arrival coincided with Olaf’s emergence from the front door and it all become very real very fast for him. He then ascertained Bethany’s whereabouts and she was limping away in the kind of direction he deemed it wise to follow. Of course, being far more able-bodied right now, he soon caught her up, and admirably scooped her into his arms like the true hero of the piece.
“We gotta get out of here NOW!”
Bethany was far too hysterical to offer any kind of indicator that she agreed with this shrewd sentiment and her limpness only added to his burden as Olaf approached with absolutely no shortage of haste. Within seconds he had made up the ground and Dean’s gallant rescue attempt swiftly downgraded to survival of the fittest. Team play was all well and good self-preservation trumped it every time and Bethany’s virtually immobile mass was the first excess baggage to be cut loose. As she plummeted to the wet leaves below, Dean may have been expecting his odds to shorten but Olaf had been given ample time to assess the situation and his first priority was the moving target. Before Dean’s getaway sticks could earn their keep, his adversary lashed out with his knuckles, making definitive contact with his solar plexus and knocking every last gust of wind from the teen’s sails.
This bought him the necessary edge to administer further misery and he wasted no time in chaining together a swift combo. The third and conclusive strike was the true canvas eater as the collision with Dean’s wheezing chest was significant enough to obliterate every last one of his ribs internally. However, Olaf still wasn’t done yet, and pondered a finishing move in mind that he had been simply dying to try out. Grasping both of his downed prey’s ankles tightly, he then proceeded to yank them hard in opposing directions, until which time as his lower torso reached and exceeded breaking limit. The entrails gushed forth from the split halves like a spring-loaded piñata, sending a sickening spray of giblets high into the air above his head. He followed their path upward with his bulging bloodshot eyes and accepted a full facial blast of warm grue as final reward for a job well done. His sense of achievement was short-lived however as Bethany had seen quite enough for several lifetimes and gotten herself a downright mandatory second wind.
She hobbled away as fast as her tiny legs could transport her and, with the cabin not having worked out well previously, bypassed it and headed directly for Holden’s camper van. Inside, neither party had the faintest inkling as to what carnage was playing out mere yards away as *they were far too embroiled in rattling its rollcage. It turned out that Tamara was also quite the screamer and Holden’s surprisingly committed sexual performance and can-do attitude had served him well in servicing her pulsating quim decidedly well. However, an A for effort is only a handful of consonants from D for dead fucked and, thanks to Bethany’s choice of retreat, Olaf was the one clutching his term paper. She almost made it too and, had Holden flicked on his headlamps, then he would have been provided front row seats for her upcoming dismissal. The mountain man’s superior agility was telling as he gripped her from behind in a crippling bear hug and bundled her to the earth below, muffling her incessant sob with a mouthful of topsoil.
Bethany was about to die a virgin but not before having her hymen broken in the eleventh hour. There must have been sex in the air as he was suddenly overcome with an urge to anoint his sorry victim with his bulky rod and prepared it for forcible entry without so much as lifting the girl’s night robe. If the satin fabric moderated entry at all, then it sure as shit didn’t show in Bethany’s angst ridden face as she suitably expressed just how disagreeable this one-way transaction was. Some of God’s creatures are gentle and thoughtful lovers but Olaf Lund wasn’t one of them. It took mere seconds for climax to be facilitated and his ecstasy was very much his disinclined fuck buddy’s agony. Moreover, he had no intention of leaving a rose on her pillow after filling her with his crude sap. His release was far more agreeable than hers and her pelvis capitulated entirely as he eventually and inhospitably pulled out. Death had not yet been kindly enough to pay her visitation, so overwhelming pain would have to do while any internal severance finalized.
This time Holden did pick up on the fracas outside and ceased his attempts to be stud of the year, in favor of finding out what the fuck was going down. His reaction said it all as he fired up the van’s lights, illuminating what could only be described as small-scale Hiroshima.
“What the fuck now?”
“Lock the back door. FAST!”
He procrastinated no further in fumbling his ignition key clockwise and the Volkswagen van, seldom the most willing of hosts, started first time. behind him, Tamara was also now clued up as to their flight and did precisely as he said, securing the rear door and holding on for dear life as his pedal foot touched metal. Olaf sensed the urgency and retaliated by manhandling the vehicle’s front fascia, lifting both spinning front wheels two feet from the ground without so much as breaking half a sweat. While Holden frantically buckled himself in, poor Tamara had no such safety harness on hand and took a backward tumble that was far less than graceful, considering she was still butt naked and had never really mastered the art of crossing one’s legs in a ladylike manner. Olaf wasn’t done yet and decided to further showcase his strong man talents by flipping the entire vehicle on its back. This didn’t prove too much of a stretch for Tamara who happened to spend much of her time lying on her back anyway, whereas Holden was left dangling in his webbing restraint, while the blood commenced to run straight back to his head.
Time was of the essence here as Olaf knew full well that he had gained the advantage and had absolutely no intention to squander it. While Holden desperately attempted to free himself from his seat belt with no success, Tamara managed to crawl out through the shattered rear window, snagging her left shoulder on broken glass as she wriggled through. Ordinarily she was a wimp when it came to pain and a simple injection was sufficient to make her feel queasy but the adrenaline took care of that as she hit the ground running on the other side. She didn’t spare a second thought for her snared comrade as she departed as he really wasn’t terribly important to her all things considered. Lack of any clothing whatsoever only made her more aerodynamic and even Olaf’s lengthy strides weren’t enough to make up the ground so he abandoned his pursuit and turned his attentions back to poor old Holden.
Holden wouldn’t possess any luck at all if it weren’t utterly wretched. Not only was his seat belt proving stubborn to remove, but both of his legs were pinned beneath the dashboard and he also had a faint concussion to deal with as his foe circled his coordinates. If he had been a racehorse then, chances are, a bullet to the back of his head would have already been administered but there was no swift release forecast here, just a slow and agonizing one at the hands of a vicious brute. Olaf had a particularly strong nose and the smell of his victim’s fear was far too potent an aphrodisiac to pass up, so he entered the toppled van from the rear and prepared for a far more formal introduction. After one final attempt to free himself proved utterly fruitless, Holden was all but ready to give up but suddenly remembered that this was his father’s van and he always stored a handgun in the glove compartment. His window of opportunity was slight as, in a few seconds, he would undoubtedly be torn asunder so she scrambled for the weapon and managed to retrieve it just in the nick of time.
Regrettably, pops hadn’t thought to pre-load it and three soul-destroying clicks later, he was left looking certain death in its vile face. Olaf decided to assist with the whole seat belt thing although his methods were far less than humane as they involved ripping the driver’s seat straight from its fixture with Holden still attached and tossing it out through the rear door where he planned to finish the job in less cramped confines. While no longer ensnared, both of the teen’s heavily damaged legs were inoperative, and this left crawling for dear life as the only available option. He made it about ten feet or so before Olaf reemerged from the wreckage and flipped him over on his back so he could see into the whites of his quarry’s eyes before dispatching him. Naturally, Holden attempted the usual feeble last-ditch plea for mercy, but leniency wasn’t something that Olaf Lund possessed in any great abundance. Killer instinct however he had in spades.
He also prided himself on ingenuity with regards to annihilation and, as he pressed his foot down on Holden’s bloodied calves to secure him in place, momentarily pondered how to remove this particular non-challenge from the equation. Nothing was coming to mind so he bundled the tormented youngster over his shoulder and began making his way back to the cabin to search for inspiration. This was desolate news for Mike who had now come to after spending the past ten minutes out for the count. He was still unaware of any fast approaching peril and more predisposed with puking up his stomach lining at the none too encouraging sight of A.J.’s obliterated carcass. By the time he discerned heavy incoming footsteps, there was insufficient time to locate a suitable hiding spot so he stood there paralyzed, as though accepting of inevitability. As Olaf reached the open doorway, unfinished business took precedence, and he flung Holden to the hard wood floor in favor of finishing what he had started a few minutes prior.
The two entered into a short-lived face off, although Mike shared none of his opponent’s swagger and could only display one solitary emotion – the kind that can cause a grown man to relinquish control over both bladder and bowel in unison. Having now won the psychological battle hands down, Olaf was itching to get physical, much to Mike’s gaping despair. While the still dazed stoner wasn’t exactly brimming with optimism, Holden took full advantage of being cast aside and reconvened his painful shuffle to the doorway. One thing was for sure, he would be required to pick up the pace considerably if he stood any chance of escaping as the murderous savage had proved on numerous occasions already that he was nothing if not a swift finisher. Patricia, A.J., Dean, and Bethany had been a decent enough opening catch but Olaf Lund was now more than ready to add to that tally.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Grueheads Films 2016