A/N: Enjoy the new chapter! It was a pleasure to write, which is strange because usually the entire process, from first draft to final edit, is 90% difficult and 10% SLIGHTLY LESS difficult.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own A Nightmare on Elm Street or any of its characters.
WARNING: CERTAIN CHAPTERS OF THE FOLLOWING STORY WILL CONTAIN GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, AND ADULT LANGUAGE. TO AVOID SPOILERS, THERE WILL NOT BE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS FOR EACH CHAPTER.
Chapter Four: Sever
1961
A clear drop of water swelled at the seam of two copper pipes, falling into the puddle below. Rings rippled out from the center, going calm as another droplet formed. For a while, this was the only sound echoing in the dark.
Then a flame was struck at the end of a match, and a greater fire roared to life through the open door of the black furnace. The dank cement walls caught the red glow and the long shadows it cast. Standing at the end of one of those shadows, Freddy dumped a grungy, stained sheet into the flaming mouth. He closed the slotted latch and flicked out the knives of his claw. Blots of fresh blood splattered by his tightly laced boots, coloring the dull, grey floor of the boiler room. He'd learned by his fifth child that dismembering the bodies made them easier to transport, and he crouched beside the battered little boy with the intent to do exactly that. The last glimmer of consciousness slipped from his eyes as Freddy began sawing into his shoulder. A thick pool of blood spread from the corpse. He knew he would have to wipe it up later, and he chuckled to himself that he was finally using the skills he'd acquired from his last job for something more creative. He was glad to say goodbye to Springwood Elementary; his new position at the Power Plant offered him better wages and more privacy. More time to spend with his piglets.
The metal teeth hit bone, and he had to lean forward to put more pressure on it. When he reached the marrow, he snapped it the rest of the way, and severed the remaining flesh that held it to the torso. He carved off the other limbs, piling them all onto the boy's tiny chest. Bones stuck out from the arms and legs like spears, broken to a sharp point. A fringe of stringy tendons dangled around them, flapping as Freddy rolled the corpse, appendages and all, into a heavy quilt. He folded over the ends and carried the bundle out through a short corridor, to where he parked his truck.
The age of the vehicle was starting to show. Its bright, cherry red finish had faded and scuffed. A shallow dent had been in the passenger's door for the last seven months, and the tires were wearing out. Bringing the wrapped body down off his shoulder, he laid it on the pickup bed. He pushed his sturdy toolbox against it, holding it to the side wall so it wouldn't roll around and come undone.
Under the driver's seat, he kept a change of clothes. He tugged his stained t-shirt over his head, and removed his trousers, snaking the brown belt out of its loops. Nude except for pinstriped boxer shorts, he unfolded the clean outfit. The black tank top smelled like scented detergent and the warm soil in their backyard where it had been hung to dry. It had started to lighten from being left out in the sun for too long. After dressing himself and adjusting his pants at the hips, he stuffed the filthy, used garments into a shopping bag and left it in the back, beside his tools. Then he settled in front of the steering wheel and rolled out of the dirt parking lot. A cloud of dust followed behind the bumper.
The Power Plant towered in the background, a monstrous mass of steel with only three visible windows. Pipes the size of tree trunks ran along the exterior, while one huge metal tube extended from the top of the building to the ground. The truck passed under a high, metal frame, and turned onto the street.
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Loretta wasn't prepared when she heard his tires crunch the gravel outside. She paced the kitchen floor, trying to figure out how she was going to break the news to him. But every scenario she imagined ended with him screaming, throwing things. No matter how she said it, he would find a way to blame her. She wished it didn't have to be anyone's fault.
On the stovetop, the soup bubbled under its lid, spilling onto the burner with a steamy sizzle. The smell of parsley and chicken wafted into her face as she took off the lid to stir the pot. Creamy dumplings swirled around the birch wood spoon.
Freddy dragged out a chair and plopped down, stretching his legs under the table. Her pulse filled her ears as she dunked the ladle into the broth to fill their bowls.
"It's hot." she said, setting one in front of him. Wisps of steam filtered through the yellow ceiling light.
He held up the rim to his lips and sipped it, ignoring both Loretta and the spoon she'd laid for him. She sat across from her husband and clenched her hands into her red and white checkered skirt.
"Fred?" she began, too nervous to eat.
He looked over to her while spooning half a dumpling into his mouth. A shrug as he chewed was her signal to continue.
"I'm…I mean, we're…" her words trailed off without an ounce of confidence.
He furrowed his brows. "What's the matter, Loretta?"
"I'm pregnant."
His expression was blank as he looked at her stomach, blinked, then brought his eyes back up to hers.
"With a baby?" he asked, still lost in shock.
When she nodded, he gave her a grin as wide as a melon slice. He jumped out of his seat, rushing to her side to pick her up and place her on the edge of the table. A smile broke out on her face as he pressed his open palm onto her belly.
"You can't feel anything, yet." she giggled.
This was unreal for her. He wasn't angry. He wasn't worried about being able to afford diapers, and clothes, and trips to the doctor, and all the other things babies needed. He wasn't yelling that she was a slut, and she'd been sleeping around. He wasn't hitting her.
He was fawning over her. And he looked like he might die of happiness.
"What are we gonna name it?" he asked.
Her legs swung back and forth under the table as he took her old seat.
"I don't know." she said, and they both rested their chins on the heels of their hands. She could tell from his serious expression that his mind was racing through every name he could remember. The room grew quiet with thought, and Loretta let out a contended sigh. For the first time in years, she had some peace because this baby was going to change things.
Every man changes when he becomes a father.
"If it's a boy, how about William?" she offered.
"Nah," he waved it off, face scrunched in distaste.
"Andrew, then?"
"That one's okay," he said, "but what if it's a girl?"
"There was a girl in my kindergarten class named Shannon. I think it's beautiful." she mused.
"Hold on, I've got it." he said, grinning, "We'll name her Katherine."
"I don't really like that one, Fred."
He ignored her protest. "No. It's perfect."
Loretta hopped off the table, trying to change the subject before she upset him.
"Well, we don't have to decide right away. We've got plenty of time."
"I know." he agreed as he pushed her bowl of soup towards her. "Now, you need to eat if you want our little Andrew-Katherine Kruger to grow properly."
She smirked and rolled her eyes before drinking a spoonful of the lukewarm chicken broth.
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A laid back, piano and saxophone melody droned from the speakers on the ceiling. Loretta browsed the isles of the grocery store with a shopping basket hanging from the crook of her elbow, strolling over the pale yellow tiles. Each shelf was paired with a long, tubular fluorescent light hanging above it. Merchandise of all kinds, from baked goods to fresh fruit, was packed in the shelves without leaving the smallest gap. The one before her held stacked cans of sweet potatoes, corn, green beans, and other colorful vegetables lined up in neat rows. Freddy liked carrots, so she picked out two of those and placed them in her basket, beside a brown carton of eggs and a bagged head of ice burg lettuce. As she was strolling towards the frozen foods at the back wall, something on her left drew her attention. She stopped to admire the rounded jars of mashed baby food, with a soft smile on her lips.
It had only been about a month, so she hadn't begun to show yet. But even at such an early stage, she was feeling the weight of responsibility. It was overwhelming. Between that and the morning sickness (which, someone should have warned her, could happen at any time throughout the day), she couldn't focus in her classes. Freddy had told her it was pointless to get her diploma, and he was right. So she dropped out a week ago. Her baby didn't need a scholar; it needed a mother.
She went to the freezers, passing by the T.V. dinners, ice cream tubs, and ready-made pies, until she came to the meat section. Through the glass door, she considered the prices of the pork, beef, and chicken. Beef was usually the most expensive, but it was on sale today and tomorrow for seventy-nine cents per pound. They hadn't had it in a while. The suctioned seal on the door broke as she pulled it open, and took out the package of sliced beef. She dropped it in with the rest of the food, and went to the checkout line.
A few people were ahead of her, so she looked to the tall, red magazine rack for a distraction to pass the minutes. She never bought these silly things, but the images were bright and enticing. Smiling models with perfect teeth, and hairstyles that she could never recreate no matter how long she stood at the bathroom mirror, stared out at the shoppers. Below them, taking up three slots, were today's copies of the Gazette. The front page headline stood out in huge, black letters:
"SPRINGWOOD SLASHER CLAIMS NEW VICTIM".
She skimmed the article, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach.
"Last night, authorities discovered the remains of eight-year-old Nicholas Krantz in
the forest bordering Springwood Municipal Park. Krantz had been reported missing
on February 9th, over one month ago, by his mother and step-father, Jacqueline and
Noah Halpbern. They are refusing interviews at this time.
In his statement to reporters this morning, Sheriff Thompson announced that he
and his lead detectives are certain Krantz's death is the latest in the string of
murders that have 'threatened the very foundation of our community'.
With no other evidence to release to the public, police have linked this crime to the
previous five only by the demonstrated age preference of the killer, and the grotesque
state in which the body was found. The victim's severed limbs had been strewn
across half an acre of-"
Loretta turned away, a wave of nausea gripping her gut. She used to baby sit Nicholas when he was a toddler. After his baths at night, he would tie the short end of a big red towel around his neck like a cape, and dash through the house, pretending to be a super hero.
"Ma'am?" the cashier, a lanky teenage boy in a white apron and visor, drummed his fingers on the register. There was a traffic jam of foot-tapping people behind her, and empty floor space in front.
She unloaded her basket in a hurry, placing the items on the counter. The boy tallied them, and she dropped the dollar bills and coins into his hand.
"Thank you, come again." he said in a voice as stale as an old soda cracker.
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Freddy folded up the newspaper and tossed it aside, leaning back into the worn lounge chair with a frustrated groan. He loved it when they found his slaughtered piggies and wrote articles about him, but he'd been getting that itch again, and it was going to be very difficult to scratch it with every parent in Springwood keeping their brats on a three-foot leash. The chances of him catching one alone just went to shit. And Loretta wasn't making things any easier on him. She hadn't let him touch her since she gave him the big news. Said it would hurt the baby. He would have flipped her onto her stomach and done it anyway, except that he thought she might be right. After all, he didn't know a damn thing about babies, and he didn't want to kill his own.
He only wanted to kill everyone else's.
The front door swung open and Loretta came through, walked past him without a word, and went to the base of the stairs. She put one foot on the bottom step, then hesitated and turned around.
"Did you see the morning paper?" she asked, clearly distressed.
He nodded toward the Gazette on the coffee table.
"I knew that little boy." she said as she crossed the room to stand in front of him. "This isn't just some scary story on the six o'clock news. It's real. These kids are being hunted down."
He shrugged. "Their parents should have been watching them. It's their own fault."
"But you're going to be one of those parents soon, and so am I." her voice was thin and strained.
"And?"
His apathy towards the situation only upset her more. "This town isn't safe. We could move to Central Ci-"
"No." he shut her down flat. Expecting her to say nothing else about it, as she had learned to do whenever he spoke in that tone, he started walking away. But she stopped him in his tracks.
"Fred. I mean it. I don't want to be here anymore, not with that maniac loose."
"What the fuck did I just tell you?" he growled, rage simmering behind his eyes. Loretta felt the stab of adrenaline to the heart, but she pushed past it.
"There's no reason for us to stay. We could just pack up and go. Please."
"You're so full of shit, Loretta," he hollered, ripping a lamp off the side table next to him and throwing it into the wall. Shards of glass rained down over the rug from the smashed bulb. The plastic shade fell off of it, cracked and dented. "You never wanted to live here, and you're using the murders as an excuse to leave. Well, too damn bad. This is my house, and we're not going anywhere."
The veins on the sides of his neck were bulging as he glared at her.
"But, Fred," she insisted.
He stalked towards her, jaw grinding, and shoved her against the red door. "Go ahead. Say one more word."
"Stop it," she cried.
The back of his fist hit her ear, and she tumbled to the floor. Before she gathered herself to try to stand, rough fingers tangled into her hair, yanking her back up. Both her hands grabbed onto his in a vain attempt to pry him off. He sneered, giving her hair a hard twist and eliciting a scream.
"Let go," she pleaded.
"Shut your god damn mouth." he roared as he clutched her jaw and turned her face up. He was seething, sucking air through his teeth. He hammered his fist into her throbbing temple to knock her down again. With a disoriented stagger, she tried to crawl away.
"Where are you going, bitch?" he asked. His black boot stomped on her leg to pin her in place. "I didn't say you could leave."
She bit back a sob as he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards him, lifting her to her knees.
"But then, you don't fucking listen to what I say, do you?" he snarled as he back handed her again. A splatter of blood flew from her swollen mouth. "You think you can do whatever the fuck you want." he punctuated the last word with another solid slap. "Just pack up,"
Slap.
"and go."
Slap.
"As if a stupid bitch like you would even know how to survive outside of your cozy little Springwood playpen." he spat, letting her collapse into a trembling heap.
When she tried to stand again, he hobbled her with a hard kick to the thigh, and she rolled onto her side. Her forehead slick with sweat, she curled up to cover her stomach. But not once did he aim for it. He kicked her shins, her arms, everywhere his foot could reach, except for her stomach.
One blow to the shoulder sent her sprawling out on her back. He sat on her hips, brushing the hair off her sticky face.
"You should know better than to talk back." he scolded, shaking his head in disapproval. He cut off her labored breathing with a single hand, crushing her throat. Her blood shot eyes rolled back as she gagged and tried to push him off. She beat on his chest with fading strength, but it only made him snicker. He let go, allowing her a gulp of air. Her eyelids sagged as she lay motionless, like a discarded rag doll. A gash had split open over her shiny, purple cheek. Streams of blood were drying on her chin.
Freddy got up and went outside on the doorstep. He opened his box of Lucky Strikes, tapping one out. His head tipped down to the spark of his lighter, and the cigarette caught the flame. The end glowed orange, smoldering as he inhaled.
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The telephone rang out from on top of the short, thin-legged table beside the sofa. It went unanswered for a while, until Loretta walked into the living room and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, is this Loretta krueger?"
"Yes." she said, switching the phone to the other ear.
"Loretta, it's Mr. Barnes. We need to talk."
Shit. It was the manager at Crave Inn. She swallowed and braced herself for what she knew he was about to say.
"You haven't come in to work for the last two weeks. I understand that you're pregnant now, and I wish you and your husband the best with that, but I can't keep an employee that doesn't do their job."
If he had only given her a few more days, her face would look normal enough for her to leave the house. She would have needed to use makeup to hide the remaining cuts and discoloration, but it wouldn't be that noticeable. All she needed was a little more time.
"Mr. Barnes, I'm so sorry. I wont make excuses, but I can come work right now. Or on the late shift, if you want. Please." she tried to persuade him.
"It's too late for that. I have to let you go." and the line went dead.
She let the phone slide out of her hand and dangle from its curly cord. This whole thing could have been worse, she consoled herself. She could have lost a lot more than her job, and she should be thankful for that. At least her baby survived.
This time.
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Silver lined clouds sailed past the glowing moon outside the window, floating along in the glistening sea of stars. Loretta had been watching them for hours through sheer white curtains as she lay in bed with sheets bunched under her arms. She listened to Freddy's slow, rhythmic breathing beside her. The clock ticked away for an eternity, and she didn't move an inch until she knew he was sleeping.
She sat up slowly, rolling the covers off of her, and lowered one leg to the floor at a time. As she stood up, the board beneath her creaked. She cringed, looking over her shoulder at Freddy.
He was still asleep.
She crept to the bedroom door, which she'd left partially open, and turned to the side to fit through without having to touch it. It brushed over the thin, lavender fabric of her nightshift. In the hallway, she released the breath she'd been holding. The stairs stretched out before her, disappearing into darkness at the bottom. She held the banister and slid her bare foot out to feel for where each step dropped to the next.
Still careful not to make a sound, she made her way into the kitchen. A simple dress was rolled up behind the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator, and she reached up to grab it. After changing, she went to the other side of the room.
The oven door screeched when she pulled it down by the handle. She had to stop and fit her arm through the narrow gap to retrieve a canvas bag. After slinging it across her chest and adjusting it at the shoulder, she popped out the two buttons holding the bag closed to riffle through its contents.
The wrapped sandwiches were there, along with a tooth brush, tooth paste, and a bundle of dollar bills. It wasn't much, but it was all she could pack without him noticing.
When she reached the front door and turned the knob, she felt a pang of guilt. If she went through with this, he would never see his child.
She crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind her. The thin, green sign for Elm Street stuck out of the grass at the corner, leering over her as she passed it with her head down.
The bus station wasn't far. She didn't know what time it was, or anything about the departure schedules, but she didn't care. She'd get on whichever one was there waiting for her.
A/N: The new chapter will be posted next Thursday, June 4th.
And I had way too much fun writing that fake newspaper article. Just wanted to let everyone know. Also, I've compiled an "(un)official soundtrack" for this story, with a song for each chapter. It's basically the music that captures the mood of the chapter or a certain scene. I just wanted to put together something fun for you guys. I'll post it with the final chapter when this series ends.
Reviews are always appreciated!
FURTHER DISCLAIMERS: I DON'T OWN LUCKY STRIKES CIGARETTES.