Part 2 of the Scream For Me series
Episode 7—The Plague-Bringer
...
Jason walked through the ashes, his head hung low. What remained of his old home after the near-Apocalypse was nothing but charred logs and smoldering luggage. Luggage that, mind you, had once been sighed and knelt down by what had used to be he and his ex-best friend's cabin. There was nothing left now, just a pile of rubble amidst a huge, sprawling pine forest. Jason looked around and itched his head, thinking of what to do.
Okay, so I'm alone now. No big deal, he thought, chuckling awkwardly. Jason rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. He felt like crap. He'd spent so much time worrying about everyone else that he'd utterly let himself go. Perhaps it was time, he thought, to take a day to himself.
Jason glanced around and walked over to the lake. No big deal. I can be by myself. And besides, I'm sure Myers is doing really well without me. After all, he still has Krueger and Ghostface to look after him...oh crap—I need to call them and remind them to give Michael his medication! As Jason whipped out his cell phone, he stopped. No, no, no, he couldn't keep doing this. He was alone now, like he'd always wanted. It wasn't his problem if Michael didn't get his pills and got depressed and killed everyone, then got tracked down by the police and then he gets shot and he's dead, and it's all my fault and I have to plan a funeral and—oh God, he was so young! He was-
Jason held his head in his hands and took a deep breath. Okay, Jason, stop it. Slow down. Nobody's dead or dying, and he's not your problem anymore. The only problem I have now is me.
Just as he thought this, the wind blew in the wrong direction and he caught a whiff of his own smell. Under his mask, Jason's nose wrinkled and his eyes began to water. He lifted up his arm and smelled; instantly he began to gag. Oh God, is that what I smell like?! When was the last time I had a shower? His mind flashed back to their old apartment in Texas and he frowned. Oh yeah. That was a long time ago.
Well fine, then. That was the first thing to do. Thoughtlessly he threw off his disgusting clothes, threw them into the lake, and then jumped in. Sure, he hated it when annoying, gross teenagers swam in his lake naked, but when he did it it was okay. He floated there and sighed. It was so quiet. He could hardly stand it. Hours without hearing Freddy's obnoxious laugh, Ghostface's stupid jokes, or Michael's childish questions...
Jason sighed. Trying to wipe his mind clean of the memory of his old friends, he dived under the water and sank to the bottom. Stupid friends. They ruined everything, they really did.
After bathing himself and washing his clothes, Jason decided to look for a new shelter. Unfortunately the whole camp was burned beyond repair. If he couldn't go back to his old roommates—and he definitely couldn't—then he'd simply have to adapt. He would rebuild his cabin, better than ever, only this time he wouldn't have to share it with Myers or Krueger or Ghostface. This thought made him grow excited. It would finally be rightfully his, a house of his own. Eagerly, Jason began sprinting into the forest, looking to start cutting down a few trees to make his new homestead.
After about an hour of haling massive logs back and forth, Voorhees wandered so deeply into the forest that he nearly got lost. He came upon a clearing which housed an odd, swirling portal. Tentatively Jason wandered over to it, his machete in hand, and poked at it. It swirled faster, and leaked out an odd, offensive mist that reminded him of blood. Fascinated, Jason kicked a small stone into the thing, and it belched so loudly it made him jump back in surprise.
Jason grinned under his mask and threw a stick in the swirling thing. Once again, it belched out the fun red mist. Maybe this wouldn't be so boring after all. Jason reached over and began throwing bigger and bigger things into the portal. Eventually this escalated to him launching whole logs into the portal, and chortling to himself when it let out a huge, loud belch. Jason went to throw something else into it, but stopped; all at once the portal had begun let out massive plumes of red blood-mist. It spread and spread until it covered the peaceful night sky and the moon. It covered the trees in sticky redness, and caused the wildflowers to wither. This made Jason frown slightly and back away.
Oops...maybe I went too far.
Just as he thought this, a bird fell at his feet. Puzzled, Jason peered up, and another bird smacked him in the face. He reeled back and fell to the ground as more poor animals dropped dead around him. Squirrels, raccoons, owls; all kinds of furry forest life started falling around him. Jason threw his hands over his head to protect himself.
Yep, definitely went too far. Whatever, I'm sure this whole thing will have no repercussions whatsoever.
…
They had decided to settle in a decent-sized town just outside of Camp Crystal Lake. After their brief encounter with the Devil, they'd lost everything, so why not start over? That's what Freddy had reasoned. Now, a few weeks after all the trouble, they were right back to normal—or nearly so. Freddy grumbled as he pushed a shopping cart though a small grocery store, throwing all kinds of sugary cereal inside. Behind him Ghostface was running from one isle to the next, howling out, "I want this, and this, and oh—definitely that! And-"
"Just where the fuck do you plan to get the money to buy your shit?!" Freddy demanded as the other talking killer caught up with him, his arms full of cookies and chips. Ghostface shrugged and piled it all in the buggy, ignoring the gazes he got from other people. When you were a masked killer that ran around cursing and killing random civilians, you generally tended to get more than enough attention from innocent bystanders.
"Why are you worried about me? Isn't it Myers who you should be keeping up with?"
Freddy sighed and looked around. "Where the hell did he go now?"
I'm right here, stupid ass. Michael thought glumly as he approached the buggy. He'd lost a considerable amount of weight in the past few weeks. In fact he didn't even eat at all any more, just threw plates of food against the wall of the small, trashy apartment they had all decided to rent for a while. When he wasn't sleeping off his sadness he was gloomily brooding over in a corner, or smoking one of Ghostface's cigarettes, a habit he'd before condemned. He sure knew that Jason would scold him for it, but he was long gone.
Now Myers began walking slowly behind the other two killers, glaring down at the floor. His hair hung in his face in unkempt, greasy curls. Freddy scowled at him and hissed, "Try to at least act like a normal fucking person, Myers! People are staring!"
I don't care.
Ghostface covered the nose-holes of his mask and hissed, "Couldn't you at least have taken a shower before coming with us? Or brushed your damn teeth?! You're a fucking wreck!"
I don't care! Michael thought, pushing past Freddy and throwing his food choice into the buggy—a bottle of cheap booze. Krueger frowned and picked up the bottle to observe it.
"What the fuck, Myers? Smoking is one thing, but I know for a Goddamn fact that Voorhees would actually gut me if I let you be an alcoholic."
Michael shrugged off this comment and thought sadly, I don't care.
"What the hell?! Is that all you can say?" Ghostface demanded.
Whatever. And Myers turned and began to walk away, but not before digging in the other killers' pockets for a cigarette and lighter. Just before he started walking he thought, I'm going take a smoke break.
Freddy watched him go, letting out a loud, gravelly growl of rage. "What the Hell is that about?! Ever since Voorhees left, he's been so-"
"Annoying." Ghostface completed, picking up the bottle of alcohol out of the basket. Thoughtlessly he set it on the shelf, shaking his head. "He has no taste in booze. I'm gonna get something good, like Crown. Want anything particular?"
"I want you to fuck off." Freddy grumbled, pushing the buggy forward, nearly running over little kids and old ladies. Ghostface watched him go with a forlorn expression under his mask.
"Whatever."
…
"I don't even know why I try, I really don't." Ghostface grumbled as he waited in the tobacco line. The stupid store only had one cigarette case, and of course nearly every jack-off in the town was a smoker, so the line was hideously long. He tapped his shoe in annoyance then sighed. Well, he'd tried to be functional. Nobody could say that he didn't try. He pulled out his knife and began stabbing other waiting patrons until he reached the front of the line. It was then that Freddy caught up with him, and Myers returned as well, both wide-eyed and staring at the trail of bodies that was laying behind Ghostface.
"Um...what the hell happened, Fuckface?"
"Line was too long. What can I say? I tried to wait, but it just didn't work out."
Clearly you didn't try hard enough.
"Whatever. All that matters is that we're first, because we're the only people that matter." Freddy announced, pushing his buggy up to the counter. He threw down his first few boxes of food before demanding of the clearly unnerved cashier, "Carton of Marlboro red."
"One carton of Camel crush!" Ghostface chimed in.
Three of Marlboro black 100s.
Both the other killers turned and gave him wide-eyed looks of shock. "Calm down, Myers. You don't need three fucking-damn cartons! Look, you can take a pack of Fuckface's. He smokes pansy cigs anyway."
"Hey! Do not!"
Freddy reached over and stabbed him in the gut with his claws, silencing him. He then returned his attention to talking down Michael. "Look, how about a pack, okay?"
I want three damn cartons! You know what, screw this! I'm a Goddamn motherfucking adult! I'll buy my own cigs! Moodily, Myers pushed Ghostface and Krueger out of the way then threw his I.D. in the cashier's face.
She took it and read it slowly, lazily smacking on a huge wad of gum. "Michael Myers." she looked up at his mask and arched a brow. "You the guy from that movie?"
"Uhh...no, he's just our retarded cousin. You know, real burden and everything." Freddy answered quickly, roughly shoving Michael away. The girl frowned and looked over the I.D. one more time before returning it to them. She went over and pulled out a bunch of cigarette cartons from the case. All the while Freddy couldn't help but think, If Voorhees ever finds out about all this crap, he's gonna kill me!
Off to his side Michael, who was lazily throwing the bagged groceries back into the buggy, thought, I heard that!
"Yeah," he grumbled, "and lemme guess. You don't ca-"
I don't care!
"Of course not."
…
"Home sweet home!" Freddy announced as he barged into their new apartment. It was wasn't any better than the first one, and the distinct lack of furniture was a problem. Since the three spent all their money on first moving to Camp Crystal Lake, then having half of everything burned, they were now dirt poor. These days they mostly spent what little change they could scrounge up on drugs and alcohol. The way they figured it the world had nearly fallen apart at the seams, so now money was getting to the point where it was nearly obsolete.
With that state of mind they'd bartered for an apartment—stabbing the landlord mercilessly until he passed out did count as bartering, probably—and sat in it all day without a T.V., stove, or couch. The only thing they did have was a fridge and an empty cardboard box.
That's why as Michael walked in he just threw the boxes of groceries into the box. He did take his take his cartons of cigarettes before laying down on the dingy carpet, of course. Freddy watched him with a scowl on his burnt face. "Hey, Myers? What the fuck is wrong with you?" he nudged the silent killer with his shoe. "We have a home, food, beer, and smokes, so why're you still all pissy?"
This isn't my Goddamn home.
Ghostface sighed. He was sitting by the cardboard box, straightening the cereal boxes so they'd all fit. "Here we go again."
It's true! This isn't anyone's home! Michael thought, sitting up. My home was with Jason—it didn't matter where we were, just that he was here! Things weren't so shitty! When Jason was here we didn't have to use boxes for cabinets, we always had running water, we-
"Well he's not here anymore, asshole!" Freddy yelled, his voice echoing in the empty room. "He left us! He-"
"Freddy, maybe you should calm down..."
"-He fucking left you! No, scratch that. He left because of you!"
Michael stood up and threw his cigarette at Freddy, making him swat it away before he went up and stood face-to-face with him. Shut the hell up! It wasn't my fault, it was yours! I wasn't the one he hated! I wasn't the one who would yell 'REMATCH' at him like a dick! I wasn't-
"Okay, maybe we should just calm the hell down." Ghostface broke in, waving to try and get their attention. His cries were ignored.
"You were the one that fucking broke his Goddamn heart too many times to count, you selfish, self-entitled, stupid fucking idiot!"
Well you're the one that ruined everyone's lives by burning down the motherfucking camp!
Freddy let out an overzealous laugh and threw his hands up in the air as he argued, "Fuck no, you didn't burn down the camp—oh wait, you just lit the damn match that did! And you drug your best friend into Hell and sold his soul to the Devil so you could save your own ass and become the damn Antichrist that almost destroyed the world!"
"Freddy, calm down."
"Oh, and let's not forget how you so carelessly stabbed the poor fuck, then whined and whined until his mother jumped in to make your stupid ass happy! Let's not forget all that!"
"Okay, just SHUT UP!" Ghostface howled, finally managing to push Myers away from Krueger. Michael was breathing hard, and his eyes were overly bright.
I said I was sorry!
Freddy laughed and turned away, shaking his head in disbelief. How could he be arguing with the biggest idiot on the planet. "You fuck, don't you get it?! The only stupid, shitty reason we even let you fucking stay here is because when Voorhees comes back he'd kill us if he found out that we'd let you fucking run away like the little bitch that you are!"
"Except for the fact that he's never coming back." Ghostface piped up, looking from Freddy to Michael. They both stood there, their bodies poised and ready for a fight. He continued, "He's not coming back and we damn well all know it!"
Shut up! Both of you don't know shit! You don't understand Jason like I do. He was my best friend! He was...he and I were...we're...
"He was my best friend first!" Ghostface cut in, pushing Michael roughly into the wall. The other killer staggered back, surprised.
Fuck no he wasn't! He hated your fucking guts!
Freddy watched as the two began stabbing at each other and swinging at each other. He grinned and took out his phone. In a second he was recording their quarrel, chuckling to himself. He knew the first person he'd forward this to.
…
Jason laid out on the dock lazily. He'd done a lot with his time away from the others. He'd managed to rebuild himself a small cabin and an more pathetic smaller dock. Since he didn't have to be around anyone else and because no teenagers had wandered into his camp, he resigned to throwing off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. The sun, though still hidden behind the blood-haze that he'd made earlier, felt good against his dead, decayed skin. Just as Jason began to drift off his phone began to vibrate wildly in his pocket. Of course. Not one moment of peace to be had.
What now? Whose texting me?
Thinking that it might be Myers, he pulled it out and opened up the message. It was a video. There were two shapes rolling around on the ground, yelling something. Jason squinted at the screen before he realized it was Michael and Ghostface. His heart froze as he watched Ghostface roll on top of Michael—when had the kid lost so much weight?-and press a knife to the silent killer's throat. There was something happening but all Jason could make out were the words, "He was my best friend first!"
Jason felt his heart grow cold. He swallowed and his hands began to shake as he thought, pressing a hand to his hockey mask, Damn, damn, damn! That idiot!
He had to go help Michael. He had to—wait, no. Jason laid back down and brought up the 'Contacts' menu on his cell phone. It's not my problem anymore. I'm done with them, right? You don't need them, Jason. You don't need Freddy's constant insults and you don't need to have Michael constantly using you. His eyes glazed over as he thought sadly, And you certainly don't need to wake up and have to fix him breakfast anymore, and have him look at you like you're the biggest hero in the world just because you made him a freaking pancake in the shape of a stegosaurus. 'Oh, that's so cool, Jason' he'll tell you, because you secretly know everything about him, especially his favorite dinosaur-shaped pancakes, and...and...
His mind began running wild and he had to stop himself as his finger hovered over the 'Delete' button on the contacts page of his phone, right next to Michael's name. With a heavy heart, he pressed the button. It erased Michael Myers' name, then Ghostface's, and of course Freddy's. Once that was done Jason laid down his cell phone and looked back up at the sky. Was it just him, or did it seem redder than it had this morning, when the portal had first began to spit out that bloody, sticky haze?
Oh well, he was sure it meant nothing.
…
Ghostface and Michael were still rolling around on the ground, fighting pathetically. Freddy had long since lost interest in recording their tussle and had resigned himself to take a nap in the far corner of the room, away from the destruction of the other two killers. "Ouch, ouch!" Ghostface howled, beating a curled fist against Myers' head weakly. "It's my foot! He's got my foot!"
Michael had trapped Ghostface and was biting at his foot angrily. Freddy let out an annoyed huff and laid his hat over his eyes lazily. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Myers, stop biting his foot. It's fucking gross. You know he doesn't wash them."
"I do too! Ow—hey!" Ghostface managed to free his poor foot, then proceeded to kick Michael in the face. Freddy shut his eyes tightly and glanced at his phone. What the hell was wrong? Why wasn't Voorhees texting back? If anything, Freddy had expected the hulking killer to come crashing in to defend his best friend, but it appeared as if this just wasn't happening. Damn. His plan had failed.
Although he didn't exactly miss Jason, Freddy had long ago come to discover that he himself wasn't good at managing money. Neither was Fuckface nor Myers, which meant that the only financially intelligent one was Voorhees. This left Krueger in a bind indeed. Since he was, of course, the leader of the group and would not surrender this position to anyone, he understood that the current living situation that he'd pushed them all into wasn't ideal. Also, Myers was being pissy. That's why, in a nutshell, even Freddy wanted Jason back.
As he thought about all of this he cast his red, eternally sleepless eyes out of the cracked window. It was odd, but he could've sworn that the sky that hung above the city was a dark maroon color. "Hey, has the sky always been so red?" he asked distractedly. Of course nobody bothered to hear or answer him.
Ew—hey, let that go! It's not yours!
"But you left it wide open!"
I said let it go!
Freddy closed his eyes tightly so that he wouldn't accidentally catch a glimpse of whatever the 'it' was that Ghostface was grasping so aggressively. Suddenly Michael and Ghostface tumbled into him, biting and scratching. Freddy let out a surprised howl and started slashing at them wildly, which lead to the whole room being splattered in blood.
"Fucking cut it out!" he screamed, throwing the two off of him. "I don't give a fuck what your damn problems are, just cut it the fuck out!"
Both the other killers looked down, ashamed with their childish behavior. "Sorry." Ghostface mumbled.
I'm not, but I accept your apology.
Ghostface scowled over at Myers. "You can't do that! You can't just accept my apology without saying you're sorry yourself!"
Michael crossed his arms over his chest, clearly indignant. Pft, yeah right. Says who?
"Says every smart person on the planet!"
Well I'm still not sorry.
"Shut the fuck up!" Freddy cried, jumping up and down, angrily trying to get noticed. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut u-"
He was cut off as the shouting of someone louder reached the room. "Oh God, there's blood everywhere!"
All three killers silenced themselves as more screaming came from outside. Freddy frowned and rose up. They went out the door and glanced over the railing of the stairs to the apartments down below. There was a hoard of people screaming at one another, each pointing to a pool of splattered red stuff that was on the concrete. "He puked that shit all over me! Why the hell did you do that?!" a girl shrieked, her face covered in the thick red stuff.
There were a few pale, sickly looking people in the group, all looking confused. "What the hell is going on?" Ghostface asked, pushing Freddy over to get a better look. Krueger shrugged.
"Someone puked on someone? I don't know, just some fucking freaks I guess."
Puking? Michael thought puzzedly, joining them with a lit cigarette shoved into the mouth-hole of his mask. They all watched below as people began pushing and shoving and cursing, causing each other to slip and fall in the blood that had allegedly been regurgitated.
It was then, as the tension climaxed, that one of the grosser looking sickly people doubled over and began vomiting blood. Everyone around him reeled back in repulsion, but soon another person was vomiting, then another. The three killers watched with horror as the people began bleeding through their eyes and ears. It only took a moment until Ghostface began emitting a high-pitched, girly scream. The sick people all turned and looked up the stairs at once, their bleeding eyes wide. Trails of thick crimson seeped from their mouths as they all began tripping over each other, trying to climb up the stairs clumsily. Freddy reeled back as one person lunged at him, his teeth bared. The guy let out a growl as Michael instinctively stabbed it him the face with his knife. It vomited up more blood onto the younger killer then collapsed, twitching slightly.
Freddy let out a curse then ran back into the apartment, dragging a screaming Ghostface and a traumatized Myers behind him. Once inside he slammed and locked the door, breathing wildly. "What the fuck was that?!"
Ghostface, who was still screaming, curled up in a ball and clung to Krueger's pants. Freddy glared down at him and kicked him hard, making him stop screaming and let out a loud, "Ouch!"
"Sit up, motherfucker! Just because a sick freak almost pukes blood in your damn face, it doesn't give you an excuse to act like a pussy."
A-Almost?! He DID fucking puke on me! Michael thought, looking down at the blood that covered his clothes. It was odd. Though it was red, it reminded him of Jason's blood. It was dark, overly sticky. It was so thick that it didn't drip off of, just hung there in disgusting, sinewy threads of dark crimson; it was also emitting a sickly heat that had caused his eyes to water. And the smell made him want to puke himself. He cringed and closed his eyes, threw his knife to the ground. The red goop that had been on it let out a sick spattering sound as it covered the ground around it. He swallowed and thought back to how the people had looked. Had it been his imagination, or had they had empty, red eyes? Freddy glanced over at Myers, scowling.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Those people...they weren't normal.
He let out a scoff. "Well no fucking duh, idiot! They were freaks, just your standard, run-of-the-mill-"
He was interrupted as the sounds of pounding fists came from the door. Michael jumped away from it, his eyes wide.
What is that? Are they trying to break in?
Freddy rolled his eyes and reached for the door. "As if. Like it's a problem; here, I'll handle it."
No, wait! Don't open the door!
But of course he was ignored and Krueger whipped open the door, allowing the infected people to tumble in messily. Instantly half of them began rolling on the floor vomiting everywhere—on the walls, the floor. Instinctivley Michael grabbed Freddy's and Ghostface's arms and tried to pull them away; only Ghostface followed him.
Don't let that junk touch you! It's not safe!
"Says who?!" Freddy demanded as he wrestled with one of the people. It was a girl, and as she grabbed at Krueger's sweater, blood seeped from her eyes. She gnashed her teeth at Freddy, spitting out the odd blood as she did so. Clearly he didn't see anything wrong with her appearance, because in a second he was stabbing her in the gut repeatedly with his claws. Her goopy blood covered his claws, made it nearly slip off his hand before he pulled away.
"What the hell...why isn't it working?" he asked, frowning.
"Freddy, move!" Ghostface cried, pulling the other talking killer away as the girl lunged at him and spat up a gut-full of blood. It splattered against the floor, steaming and hot. Infected.
Michael suddenly began to cry. Both the other killers looked over at him curiously, but the moment was broken as yet another one of the sick people managed to break through the hoard. It tried to bite Freddy's neck, and that's when he decided that he'd had enough.
Wordlessly, he pushed Michael into Ghostface's arms and threw himself into the gathering crowd of sick people, creating a small pathway of safety. Ghostface began screaming girlishly again as he and Michael ran after him.
…
"What the fuck was wrong with those freaks?!" Freddy demanded. They'd managed to reach the outside of the city with little difficulty. Though they still bumped into other unsuspecting sick people—or whatever they were—most of the citizens were still okay, though in a panic. Now the three walked down a long stretch of highway, away from the city. Ghostface still carried Michael on his back, trying not to drop him as they went.
"I—God, Myers, you're so damn heavy—I think they weren't all there, Krueger."
Sick, Michael thought, his wide, petrified eyes staring emptily down at the ground. They were fucking sick.
Ghostface hauled Myers along, huffing laboriously as he tried to keep up with Freddy. "Wait! Where are we going? Why are you running so fast?"
"Because you fucking idiot, didn't you see how fast that—that whatever it was—spread to all those other poor fucks?" He ran a little faster, tugging on Ghostface's sleeve as he did so. The other killer was just dragging him down, though.
Ghostface began panting desperately, shifting Myers from one shoulder to the other. "H-He's too heavy. This is impossible! We need a break!"
No...can't stop! Michael thought fearfully. He began shaking violently, until Ghostface finally lost his grip on him and dropped him. Freddy stopped at last and looked back at them, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I'll give you fuckers five minutes." he said before turning away and looking out at the road ahead. This all seemed familiar. He felt as though they'd traveled down this road before—not figuratively, but literally. Ghostface sat on the ground, smoking a cigarette next to Michael, who was stuck in a catatonic stupor of disbelief and fear. What had they gotten themselves into?
As he stood there thinking, Ghostface spoke up. "What do we do now? We don't have anywhere to go...nothing to take with us..."
"No shit, genius. We're fucking poor. There's nothing much we can do."
"So what the fuck's the point of running?! We don't even know what we're running from, or why the hell we're running to begin with!" Ghostface said loudly, his voice reaching hysteria. "What the hell is wrong with the fucking world?!"
Freddy said nothing. What could he say? He truthfully didn't know the answers to those questions so he just bit his lip and glared at the ground, kicking up some stones. Thankfully it was then that Michael chose to end the silence. What do you mean why are we running? Are you a damn idiot? He shook his head. Those things, they weren't alive.
"Well obviously not, dip-fuck!" Ghostface snapped.
"Shut the fuck up! For once in your life let someone else talk!"
"But he doesn't even-"
"Or think," Freddy commented, sneering at the both of them. "Whatever."
Michael blinked and continued. They bled like Jason...that blood they were shooting everywhere, it wasn't just blood. It was something else...They were trying to kill us, really kill us.
"But what the fuck were they?" Ghostface pressed. "If you're so smart, tell us that."
Myers looked up at him and shrugged, stealing a puff from a cigarette. Not human.
…
Jason stood above the red portal thoughtfully. Concern shown in his brown eyes as he watched it pulsate. It had gone from being this small, slightly intimidating hole in the ground to a moderatley massive, hungry bloody pit, one that poured out red mist at an alarming rate. Already all of his forest was covered in it, and it wasn't a normal fog. It clung to trees and even stuck to the dirt, staining it and making it rot. Jason could barley breathe as he walked through it. He didn't know what it was or how it had gotten there, but he was sure that it was toxic to say the least; that's why he'd ventured to the portal with the hopes of plugging it up. As he approached it, however, he saw how impossible this would really be.
It had grown to substantial size, feeding off of the dead animals around it. Slowly it was threatening to envelop the whole forest. Jason nervously tapped his fingers against his machete as he tried to think of what to do. Okay, so maybe instead of spending his day lounging at the lake, he could've maybe possibly, perhaps thought of a way to get rid of the portal, but then again this morning it hadn't seemed like a big threat. Now it's mist had killed all the fish in the lake, along with the animals.
Jason moved from rapping his fingers against his machete to nervously picking at his black nails. How far had this sickness spread? Had it gotten to Michael? Was he okay?
His mind kept thinking of worse and worse possibilities until at last Jason was forced to bring out his phone. He hesitated before dialing Ghostface's number—the only one he remembered. I said I'd never talk to him again...but damn it, this is a fucking emergency! The phone rang and rang, and eventually it made Jason begin to feel sick with worry. At last, though, a voice answered him.
"Yeah—what, hello? Who's this?"
Jason frowned. This isn't Michael Myers, is it?
"No, Hockeypuck, its Freddy! Hah! Hey, Fuckface, he thought I was Myers-" a brief shuffling noise could be heard as Freddy howled behind him, "Yeah...yeah, yeah. Yeah, that's what I said! He thought I was Myers!"
He breathed deeply and tried to gather his patience. Freddy, listen. This is important. Has any weird stuff been happening wherever you are—and I don't care exactly where that is, because it's not like I care or am coming to save you or anything—but I just want to know.
Now Ghostface's voice sounded on the line. Freddy could be heard howling behind him, "You motherfucker, he wanted to talk to me! Give it back!"
"Shut up! Cell phones are my thing anyway! Hey, Voorhees—ow! Stop hitting me! Freddyyyyy!" static could be heard as the two fought on the other side of the line. Jason sighed and sat down on the edge of the portal. He watched as it swirled and grew.
Hey, hey, listen. Is someone on the line?
"Yeah, what?! It's Freddy. What the fuck do you want, already? We're a little busy here."
Has anything weird been happening on your end?
Freddy hesitated before asking, "Weird like what? Like crazy-people-puking-blood-and-trying-to-kill-us weird?"
Jason shrugged, though he knew nobody could see him. Still it made him feel better, especially when part of him wanted to yell at Freddy to put Michael on the line. But he retained his composure and managed to think, I don't know. I mean like a red mist or anything?
There was a pause before, "Red what? I think you're breaking up—oh that's right, you're not talking. Hey, what the fuck are you talking about? Red mist or something?"
Ghostface seemed to gasp at this statement. Sounds of fumbling could be heard as he grabbed the phone from Freddy and yelled into it, "Like a weird thick mist, and it's sticky, and red and smelly, like blood or something?!"
Yeah, that's it!
"No, we haven't had that here."
Oh. he thought, moderately disappointed.
"But the sky's red!" Freddy chipped in.
"Yeah," Ghostface repeated, "the sky's red and thick and bloody looking. Huh. Guess we do have it after all." he shifted his voice away from the phone and yelled, "Hey Freddy, we got the blood-mist thing after all! Jason said so!"
I did not!
"But you just-"
Okay, look, please focus on what I'm asking you. Jason thought, biting off more of his nails as his anxiety rose. Are you all okay? You're not hurt are you?
Ghostface seemed to see past this question and sounds of walking could be heard. What was he walking away from? Freddy? Then a quiet voice answered, "Michael's fine, Jason."
He let out a breath of relief and thought, Thank fucking God...Oh, I mean—whatever. Like I care.
"Okay, just please kill the act for one second. We're having serious problems."
Like what? Jason thought, tapping his fingers nervously on his machete all over again. Is it Michael? Did you forget to fix his pancakes in the shape of a stegosaurus? 'Cause those are his favorite, and he'll flip his shit if you make them look like raptors or something. Those scare the shit out of hi-
"Just shut up about Myers' pancakes!" Ghostface snapped, suddenly turning uncharacteristically serious. "It's not about breakfast or his meds or anything! It's like this—we rented this apartment, right?"
He nearly died laughing. Ha! Yeah right! With whose money?!
"Okay, okay, just listen!" he insisted, trying to keep the subject on track. "That's not the serious part! What happened today—these people, they started fighting, then one thing lead to another and they were puking on each other..."
Okay, and? Why the fuck should I care about a damn fight? You fought with Myers today, I know that much. Is that what this is about?
"Damn it!" Ghostface cursed, trying to keep his voice down. "Can't you for one second get your mind off Myers?! Stop interrupting and listen. Okay, ready?"
Jason rolled his eyes and adjusted his phone. Yeah, whatever.
"Okay, so they were biting each other and we were watching 'cause it was kinda funny, but then they started to get sick. Like really, really sick. Like so sick they started puking up this blood shit, and some of it got on Michael, so he started flipping his shit, and then one of the people almost bit him, and-"
Someone bit Michael?!
"No, no Freddy was the one who almost got bit."
Jason relaxed a little. Oh, okay then. Keep going.
Ghostface's voice got quieter as he whispered into the phone, "They tried to kill us or eat us or I don't really know...but now we're out of the city. We're safe."
And Michael is...?
"With us."
He smiled and thought cheerfully, Okay, then let me talk to him.
The voice on the end of the line hesitated before finally admitting, "Wellllll...he sort of...can't."
What do you mean he 'can't'? Jason asked, his hands curling into fists. What the fuck did you do to him?
"Oh no, no, nothing like that. He's just...well...what's the word? Hey, Freddy, what's the word?"
A voice that sounded far away echoed into the phone. "Word for what?!"
"What Myers is!"
"Ahhh that one. Stupid, he's stupid!"
Ghostface sighed and yelled back, "No, the other one!"
"Oh, you mean incapacitated!"
"Yeah, yeah, that one. Sorry Jason, Myers is incapaci-capaci...he can't talk 'cause he's dumb as shit right now."
Jason instantly stood up and began walking away from the red portal. He had to save his friend. This was it. Whatever he'd said before, be damned. He would walk right to where they were and—well, he had no clue where they were, and most likely they didn't either. He stopped in his tracks, gripping his phone tight. And the portal. He couldn't just leave it here like this, in the middle of the forest, killing everything. What if it got bigger once he left? What if it swallowed up the whole camp?
"Hello?! Jason, are you still there? Hey!"
Huh? Jason snapped back to reality and raised the phone to his ear once more. He thought, Listen, I can't come get you. You're going to have to find your way back on your own. Sorry.
"What?! But Myers won't even walk! How are we-"
I don't care. I'm sorry...tell him that, okay? Tell him I'm sorry. Please? Jason's eyes filled with tears as he planted himself on the ground next to the portal. It belched out more mist, as if daring him to go. He begrudgingly sat there, punching at the ground with one hand and holding the phone with the other.
"Voorhees, you can't just leave us, damn you!"
Just give the phone to Myers, please.
The voice of Freddy yelled at on the other end of the line. "What?! You're not coming, you self-centered, selfish motherfucking prick! You stupid re-"
Krueger, you don't get it! I'm busy right now!
He scoffed disgustedly. "Oh yeah? With what."
Jason cast his brown eyes down at the swirling vortex, which had already grown another few centimeters in diameter since he'd begun the phone call. He didn't want to alarm the others, especially since they had information about what was happening with the outside world. Casually he thought, With, y'know, hockey mask stuff.
"Uh-huh. Lemme get this straight, you're not coming to help us because you're fucking busy with 'hockey mask stuff'?"
Oh yeah, he thought lied, real busy. Lots of good—uh-hockey mask stuff happening here.
Freddy began howling into the phone, so loudly that Jason had to hold it away from his ear, "HOCKEY MASK STUFF, YOU STUPID FUCK?! How the living fuck is that more important than us—me?! You stupid, retarded piece of shit!"
I didn't expect you to understand. Jason fibbed. You only understand if you wear a mask or something.
And with that, just as Krueger began ranting again, Jason ruefully hung up his cell phone and saved it into his pocket. He picked at the grass and rested his head on his hands. Really, had that been the best he could come up with? Hockey mask stuff? Oh well, he was sure they would buy it. They were idiots, after all.
…
"That stupid motherfucking retarded asshole hung up on me!" Freddy raved, throwing Ghostface's phone onto the ground. It shattered into pieces as he cried, "Hockey mask problems! Can you fucking believe it?! Here we are risking our asses just to get to him and he-"
"No, no," Ghostface interrupted, kicking at the pieces of the broken phone, "don't apologize; I've got another."
Freddy glared down at him and spat angrily, "You fucking idiot, I don't give a damn about your stupid cell phone!"
Ghostface rolled his eyes. "Really? I couldn't tell. After all, you have a history of caring about other people's stuff."
"Is that sarcasm?"
"What do you think?!"
"I think that you'd better shut your Goddamn fucking mouth before I shut it for you!"
Just before the two got into a real fight, Michael broke in. Blood, he thought. There was blood everywhere...all over me...on my knife...he began fingering his knife, not blinking when it slipped and sliced into his hand. Ghostface let out a frightened gasp and jumped on top of him, snatching his knife away.
"You idiot!" he cried. "We're going to see Jason and you're sitting here cutting yourself! He's going to fucking kill us!"
Freddy frowned and turned away. His burnt face held a look of utter unconcern as he said, "Like he cares about any of us." then a thought came to him. He tapped Ghostface's shoulder and inquired, "Hey you wear a mask, right?"
"Well spotted." he answered, inspecting Michael's hand.
"Well do you have, y'know, Ghostface-mask problems?"
He gave the other killer a look of idiocy under his mask. "What the fuck are you talking about now?"
Freddy sighed. He rapped his claws together and explained, "Well, Voorhees said it was something that masked fucks like you do—you have mask problems? I guess, I mean...I don't really know."
"I think he was just fucking with you." he answered, managing to stop the bleeding of Michael's hand. He angrily slapped Myers across the face and warned, "No more stupid shit! It's not that bad this time, but if you do that again we'll fucking kill you."
Michael just sat there. His eyes were shining with tears as he thought, So much blood...
"Yeah," Freddy scoffed, walking away from the two. "whatever."
…
**A/N**
What is left to write about in a near post-Apocalyptic world? Only the remaining downfall of humanity, which I will humorously present to you in the form of a blood-puking plague. Truthfully, I wanted to do something with zombies, but I'm not doing that exactly. Many other people have, so I opted to put my own twist onto it. It's not the bite that spreads the sickness. Its the blood that is regurgitated. Seems odd, I know, but with all this talk of Ebola, how could I not go for something like this?
