The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is the property of its respective owners whomever they maybe but I am inclined to give the most credit to Tobe Hooper cause he did create it. This is a rewriting of Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III to fit in to a series I am working on. As well as an exercise in the power of convenient continuity or an attempt to create some continuity.
The blonde runs through the dilapidated house. She is not hopeful; if escape was possible someone would have done it. She drops ducking behind the carving counter trying to stifle her breathing.
"Damn it, where she go?"
"She couldn't have gotten far. Just find the other one before Mama wakes up. Let Junior take care of this one." The two men stomp out of the house. The girl tentatively raises her eyes above the counter. She drops back down gently opening the drawer, wincing every time it screeched as it drags along its track. She grabs the largest knife in the drawer then crawls to the back door. She stands, once more carefully looking out for the family. She steps in to the back room, the door not far now. Suddenly she hears an inhuman screech, that of a pig's death knell, as a figure comes from the shadows hammer in hand. She screams instinctively as the hammer comes down knocking her sprawling on the floor. He bends down taking hold of her foot dragging the broken girl back in to the house. He lifts the body on to the carving table; then pulls out a thin blade. He brushes her hair aside as he begins the slicing. Soon it is done; the rest is quickly disregarded as he takes his new face to the shed. The creaking of his braces and the stomping of his foot precede him.
The shed is full of bits of machinery, bones and random knick knacks that caught his fancy. He places the flesh on the table. He works diligently for the next hour snipping and cutting and sewing the only sound a scratchy record accompanied by his heavy breathing. From the window another girl, a disheveled brunette, watches unwaveringly as the horror she feels consumes her mind.
Jeepers creepers where did you get those peepers? Jeepers creepers where did you get those eyes?
The girl leans forward for a clearer look, a pile of brush snaps underfoot alerting the behemoth to her presence. She runs as he gets to the door, getting just to the tree line, her heart racing. The behemoth slams the door shut walking towards the trees.
"Junior! Mama's calling you, get in here! Makes a damn mess on the table and don't give a-"
"18 August 1973, Sally Hardesty, her invalid brother Franklin, and their three friends fell afoul of a bizarre, cannibalistic clan of predators. After she accounted her tale of horror and survival she sank in to catatonia. Texas authorities launched a month long manhunt but could find no farmhouse therefore officially the events never happened.
However, for the next 13 years reports of chainsaw mass-murders continued to haunt the state until the Summer of 1986. Two rowdy high school seniors along an abandoned stretch of Texas highway harass a Forth Worth radio station. The broadcast of their murder was proof of the claims of Ms. Hardesty and the crusading of her uncle former Texas Ranger Lieutenant Boude "Lefty" Enright. Although bait, would be the more appropriate term as the family came out of hiding to silence the DJ. Finally culminating in a surreal showdown between the members of the Sawyer family and Lefty Enright in a derelict amusement park. The bodies of Enright and two of the family members were found but the DJ asserts that there was another member. It wasn't until 1991 that the final member of the family, W.E. "Chop-Top" Sawyer was apprehended, tried and convicted of mass murder. This marked the final chapter in what would be known as the Texas Chainsaw Massacre." He chortles before crumpling the paper; tossing it at a pinned map of the state of Texas.
13 April 2003 One Week Later
"In what was at first thought to be the site of an old cemetery but would prove to be a dried pond bed containing the remains of several decaying bodies. A special forensic team, under the direction of the county coroner has been helicoptered to the site to dig out the mass grave and to try and determine the victims' cause of death. We will bring you more details as the story unfolds." The radio begins to fade out in to static.
The driver sighs looking at her companion in the passenger's seat mouthing the words to the song on his head set. "You can stop hiding behind that stupid thing...Ryan!" She says louder before pulling the headphone out of his ear.
"What?!" He takes off the remaining ear piece before adjusting his glasses looking kind of guilty. "The radio reception's shit." He rolls up his CD player pocketing it.
"So is our conversation." Her hands instinctively tighten on the wheel.
He shakes his head turning to reach in the cooler. He thought about bringing up why she didn't put a CD player in this old car but one argument at a time is enough. Too damn hot.
"Look if we beat this thing to death it's not going to do us any good. We're just going to get mad right? I don't want to fight anymore ok?" Her tone relating just how drained and weary this trip has made her. However it took the smallest amount of awareness to hear it.
"Me neither what's the point? I mean once we get to Florida you're off to New York then its Air Britannia all the way, right? We're over if we fight, we're over if we don't fight." He pops the top.
She tries focus on the road and not rolling her eyes. "Look I just need some time on my own, alright? I mean I wanted to go on this trip to enjoy each other…to talk." Her voice seems to drop away from her being.
"You mean talk or tip toe around the real issue? Ok then, how about this heat?" He takes another gulp.
"Now you sound exactly like my father. Great."
Ryan chuckles, reminding himself mentally to thank the old man.
"Hey turn it up we're getting something." She tells him.
"The lines to see the mass grave has caused the first ever traffic jam in the history of the interstate. Any curious motorist better be ready to prove you're not a killer or you may have to spend the night with a bunch of dead people." The DJ howls out.
"Could be worse," Ryan begins. "At least we are not as bad off as those people in that body pit."
She gives a slight ironic smile at that. "They were murdered. God they'd have to be."
"No shit, they didn't jump in with big grins and bathing suits." He breaths out, the topic more upsetting to him then he'd like to admit. "They're gonna fry that sucker if they find him."
"Violence is no answer to violence." She sighs again.
"Yeah well welcome to the real world Michelle. You know one of these days you're going to have to live in it. No matter where you run." She contemplates the thought but pushes it aside instead concentrating on the road and the wide Texas sky.
A little over an hour later, at nightfall, they reach the foretold dead lock just beyond the mass graves. The place is covered with law enforcement, media personnel and the general gawkers. The cameraman shuts the van door; he walks over to the reporter staring off in the darkness smoking her cigarette steadily.
He approaches her tentatively, shuffling his feet audibly. "Stretch, you ok?"
"Huh? Yeah. I'm fine. Just some bad memories."
He looks off quickly and breaths out, "You don't think…"
"No those bastards are roasting in Hell. Let's just get on with it." She crushes the cigarette like it's a bit more than a spent drag, then fixes her hair.
Michelle and Ryan drive up to the road block. "Welcome to the red light district."
"Are there people in those bags?" Michelle asks as they lean forward.
"Jesus! Looks like we died and gone to Hell." Ryan turns the radio louder. "Let's not stick around to meet any of them." He leans back trying to appear relaxed but truly thankful he was not out there.
Hazard suited coroners stalk from trench to trench like ants. "Aww shit! We got more over here, Scotty!" One of the coroners, presumably Scotty jumps in the trench as the ground goes squish. "Flash it before you get it out. And be careful you could get blood poisoning."
"Yeah right." Scotty hits the button and the flash illuminates the gelatin body. He begins trying to dig it out but pulls the head clear off. "I think I'm gonna barf."
"Not in front of those news assholes, go behind those trees." His superior lacking the compassion necessary for professionalism.
"I should have listened to my old man and went in to real estate." Scotty climbs out as the rag mouth covered Ranger peers in.
"From the looks of this…exactly like those other body pits we found up near Dog Tree. And by counting skulls I'll say there is about 40 or 50 bodies here." The coroner shakes the muck of his hands.
Ryan shuts of the radio. "Adipocere, you moron."
"You would know that, Mr. pre-med." Wry smile.
Ryan grins smugly, "The creamy break down of fat tissue." He leans forwards his hands gesturing, "Basically, if you're buried wrong your body turns into poison Crisco."
"I just want to get out of here." She sighs heavily wrapping her arm around herself.
"Well it won't be too long now, here comes old deputy dog."
A Highway patrol man begins strutting towards them, as he sees the California plates he reaches for his flashlight shining it in the car, "Coming from?"
"L.A." She answers.
He cuts some of the edge in his voice, "Going to?"
"Land, Florida."
"Something wrong with the airlines?" A tone three shades from bemusement.
"No I-uh am delivering this car to my father. Do you want to see the papers?"
"No that's ok ma'am, just hurry along." He straightens back until; Ryan sticks his nose in. "What happened here anyway?"
Slowly diligently he bends down, shining the light in his face, "None of your business, son. Just move along and keep moving, don't stop for nothing or nobody." He steps back from the car waving them on.
"Ok. I didn't want to be on TV anyway." Ryan stretches back, hands behind his head.
"Ryan, please." She turns the engine over.
"Now what's wrong with you Michelle?"
"I just want to get this trip over with. And if I have to drive all night I can."
The next morning they are but a few hours from the Louisiana state line.
"Do you think who ever did that is still around?" She breaks the silence.
"Nah, whoever did that is long gone. Sounded like the bodies were pretty badly decomposed too. You see what happens is, once they're buried-"
"Ryan, please spare me the post-mortem." Ryan turns back around, staring out his window.
"Yeah well, at least it looks like we are about here."
"Where?" She looks at him confused.
"The middle of nowhere." They start to laugh until she turns back to the road. She screams as she sees the armadillo but fails to turn in time spinning off the road.
"Holy shit!" Ryan breathed out rapidly, dust from the open window caking to his brow.
Michelle removes her seatbelt getting out of the car, Ryan follows. They walk towards the screeching eviscerated creature. "Oh my God." Michelle grabs her stomach nausea rising.
Ryan surveys the area, nothing but sky and dirt. "We can't just leave him here. I'll take care of it."
"No." She walks on ahead, wiping her mouth.
"Michelle." He calls after her but falls flat.
"It's my fault I'll do it." She marches over to the mangled animal bending down retrieving a heavy stone. "Sorry little guy." She stares at him for a few moments trying to steel herself; lifting the rock over head as the mangled creature screeches weakly. She walks over to Ryan handing him the boulder. "I can't do it."
"Give it to me." He says somberly taking the boulder as she retreats to the car. It has been said that the foundation of human nature is barbaric but she could never believe that. There is just something feral and fundamentally inhuman about smashing another creature with a rock.
A few hours later, a car pulls up at the Last Chance Gas Station. A handsome man in a cowboy hat steps out of the car retrieving his bag from the back. "Thanks for the ride, mister. You drive real careful now." He wipes his mouth and walks over to the station as the attendant sits with scissors and a magazine in hand, muttering intently to himself. The attendant, blind in one eye, hair and beard turning grey, the archetype of deranged.
"Que pasa?" The cowboy asks. The other just snaps the scissors in reply laughing. Returning to his work until a car pulls up.
"Looks like we got some customers, ladies." He bunches the magazine pages around the scissors and puts them on the chair. "You stay right here."
"You first, see if the restrooms are safe."
"Dream on." Ryan opens the door. "You ok?" She nods before he leaves walking towards the side of the building. "Hi." He says to the attendant, he just smirks. Michele checks herself in the mirror sinking back in to her seat, the fatigue of the road starting to hit her. Out of the corner of her eye she sees this hideous face. As she turns she sees it's a twisted jack in the box, the attendant chortles, drops the toy on the roof and snaps off a picture of her. Then he's off like a rocket, "I got you; I got you good, $5 bucks, it's only $5 bucks, it's a good picture! Well, well, what you say?! $3.69, just for you $3.69, I'll give you $3.69!" His voice gravely and high pitched at once.
"n-No," Michelle regains her composure. "We're in a hurry could you just fill it up please?"
The attendant's demeanor darkens, "You're in a big hurry huh?!" He stares her down his dead eye fixed drawing her gaze. "I'm gonna service you real good babe, don't you worry about it." He stomps over to the pump sneering at the plates. "Little California daddy's girl, huh? Bitch say's fill 'er up, I'll fill it up for ya mascara face!" Michele watches him from the window. "hehe, your gonna like it. You like me don't you?" He starts laughing franticly. Michele gets out of the car backing up. "What's a matter shortcake? Don't you get uppity on me."
The cowboy walks up behind her. "It's alright ma'am. You ain't giving the lady a hard time now are you?"
"I ain't bothering nobody mister!" The attendant stares him down.
"Uh-huh." The cowboy steps closer.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it. He's a little touched [in the head], he's been that way ever since he lost his job at the old slaughter house. Sort of the town loony you might say." He looks at the damaged grill. "Well, looks like you had yourself a little mishap here."
Still nervous but better him than one eye. "We hit a little animal on the road."
"Oh…who's we?" the cowboy grins.
"A friend and I. We uh, I…killed it." She casts her head down.
"Well, I wouldn't worry about that." He wipes some of the blood of with his finger. "There's road kill all over Texas, natural order of things. Besides, if you were the last thing I saw before I died, I'd die a happy man."As corny and slightly creepy that was she couldn't help but find it slightly flattering. Slightly. She assured herself.
The attendant walks back in to his station, blustering, "Don't you ever do that to me bitch!" The walls of the store littered with diagrams of cow anatomy and slaughter procedure. He throws his gloves across the room.
Ryan steps out of the restroom, he stops to examine the stuffed animals hanging in the station window. He walks up eyeing the cowboy, "Who's this?"
The cowboy looks down sensing trouble, "Hey. You can call me Tex."
"Yippy Ki-ay." Ryan says standing next to Michele hands on his hip.
"Listen I would be glad to buy you both a beer or whatever you need if I could catch a ride as far as Wrongstead."
"Hmm sorry Tex we're on a pretty tight schedule today." He pats Michele on the back; she meanwhile is trying not to laugh at his ridiculous posturing.
"Is that right, you're in a big hurry?" He asks Michelle.
"Well we could discuss it I guess." She continues smiling at him.
"Ok." He grins again. Ryan stares at her before realizing he's lost, in more ways than one.
"I got to go to the restroom, is it over there?"
"Yeah change your life." Ryan says bitterly.
They watch her walk off for a moment. "Real nice car you have here." He smiles at Ryan.
Ryan pats the hood, "Thanks."
Michele steps in to the ladies'. The attendant hears her turn the faucet on through the wall; he lays his head against it. Michele washes her face and looks around the room. The walls are plastered with cut up pictures of centerfolds, not a whole woman in any picture, just 'sections.' She turns back to the cracked mirror.
"You know if ya'll are headed to Shreveport, that road over there is the quickest way." Tex says to Ryan.
Ryan looks back then shakes his head, "No it's just a straight shot on the highway."
"Yeah well, it use to be but this new road here; is a hell of a lot quicker. You got a map?"
Ryan considers it for a moment, "Yeah I got a map."
"Get it out I'll show you."
Ryan resigns himself, "Ok."
Michele opens the stall door, swatting away flies "Jesus." Meanwhile, behind the wall, the attendant lifts one of his pictures revealing a peephole.
Ryan lays the map out on the trunk, "See?"
"Yeah I see." Tex pushes his hat up and points to the map, "See, 1973. That road over there ought to be right there, it ain't even on this map."
"Well what's the damn difference, the distance looks the same?"
"The difference is it ain't a good idea to be messing around these back roads at night when you don't know where you're going." Ryan breaths out starting to get his point and not liking it. "Look man, I'm just trying to get home."
"Yep I understand you're trying to get home but listen to me we can't help you, ok? I'm sorry." He folds the map back up. Not looking at him lest he recant.
Tex nods turning back to the station, "Where'd that little weasel get to?"
Michele flushes the toilet as the attendant tries to keep track of her. Suddenly he's pushed against the wall and pulled back. Michele hears the struggle and steps out. Tex throws the attendant out of the station, "You shit eating son of a bitch, I was only looking at her, she liked it fine, she liked it, ask her!"
"Would you just shut up, stupid?" He shakes his head in disgust.
The attendant jumps back on the steps motioning at him with a pinknife, "You shut the fuck up motherfucker this is my place! I can do whatever I want here in my place!" He runs back inside.
"What's wrong?" She asks walking up besides them.
"Oh he's having himself a peek-a-boo party with you as the star."
"Ugh I think I'm going to puke." She says walking towards the car. Tex turns around hurrying towards them, "Folks I think you better get in your car."
"What's wrong?" Ryan asks.
"Go!" Tex pushes him, as the attendant returns with a coach gun.
"He's got a gun!" Michele yells as she and Ryan climb in the car as the attendant screams at them. Tex runs around towards him. "You think you're too good for me? Huh?!" She struggles to get the engine to turn over.
"Come on get the hell out of here, I'll take care of him!" Tex yells. He turns the scattergun on him, "I'll take you down right here, cowboy!" "Go, go come on!"
She finally gets the car started and peals away, he runs after the car firing in to the back window. Through the hole Ryan watches as he turns the gun on Tex. "Holy fuck he dusted him!"
"What happened?! Dusted who?!"
"The cowboy! He shot the cowboy!"
"What?!"
"Go, drive faster, go!"
"We've got to find the cops! The next town!"
"There isn't any town just drive!"
"Where?!"
Ryan runs his head through his hair, trying to calm down and think, "Take the cowboy's route."
"What are you talking about what route?"
"Turn right!" Ryan yells but she hesitates for a moment, "Go! Go!" The car screeches by as the sun sets.
Meanwhile, back at the station a large truck covered in animal hides leaves the garage. The attendant runs out of the store laughing, firing in to the air as the truck turns down the road. "It's Armageddon, you bitch! Goddamn trap is sprung now, honey!"
Ok, when I saw the third one of my immediate questions was, "Where the hell are they?" Going from desert to swampland in one area so I figured I'd move them towards Louisiana, why not? Also the attendant has a name but I just liked writing the attendant, kind of like the hitchhiker from the first one. In later chapter I plan to deviate more from the script but for now I'll lay the foundation.