Four Stories Later
The Radio and the Goalie

A terrified scream echoes along the streets of darkness, spilling into open windows like poison and infiltrating through muffling atoms piercing every ear for three blocks around. Lights flick on illuminating the empty streets. Streets so familiar and friendly during the day that seem haunting and frightful when the sun vanishes and is replaced with the darkness of night. Another scream, and the echoes of feet pounding heavily against the ground, running, follows. Then it stops, all goes silent.

Wally is awoken, and startled by the screams that were barely down the street. He shrugged it off, and tried to go back to sleep, pulling the covers over his eyes. A slam, the front door. Wally's eyes blast open, as if they were ships ready for launch. He moves the blankets only slightly, peering into the darkness around him, looking for any sign of life that shouldn't be there. Nothing. He shuts his eyes and again tries to sleep, forgetting the door.

Suddenly a voice, "Kid! Look out!"

Wally jumps to his feet, throwing the blankets off him. They crumple up in a corner of the room. It doesn't take long to spot the hulking figure standing in the bedroom doorway.

W-Who is this guy? He's gotta be eight feet tall! At least! And what's he d-doing here?, Wally thinks to himself.

Heart racing, mind buzzing, Wally stares at the intruder without blinking. He stares, petrified to move.

Feeling ridiculous he thinks, If I can take a grizzly bear head-on, I can take this bozo out.

It's at this moment that the man in the doorway reaches into his open coat, reaching into an inner pocket. Slowly he pulls out, and in his grasp is long and blood-stained blade.

Now I'm screwed, he thinks, feeling the petrified sensation overwhelm him again.

Then the voice from before, "Don't just stand there! Move!"

It's next to him, Wally spins his head. The only thing beside him is his little red radio. No way that could be talking... could it? Still standing petrified, Wally turns back to his enemy. Suddenly his vision is blurred by red and yellow, pain strikes his face.

"I told you to move kid! And take me with you!" the same voice!

"You are talking! The freakin' radio!" Wally shouts, grabbing the little device away from his face.

"Yes, I'm talking, but I don't really think this is the time to have the discussion..."

Wally nods, and shoves the radio into his pocket. The determination to live flares up in his gut, and just in time. The blade swings heavily down at Wally's shoulder, but he dodges and the blade slices only the windowsill. The equation is now so simple. Murderous figure plus window equals victory. Solving the equation is only half the problem, the other half is executing it. Wally spins around abruptly, raising his foot high into the air and striking the figure in the chest. The figure only shudders slightly, and that's only from the force of the kick, not pain. In fact, the figure feels no pain at all, the kick was nothing more then a thump, like beating your chest.

"I... What are you?" Wally stutters.

The creature reaches out with his free hand, still trying to pull the blade from the windowsill with the other. He grabs Wally's neck and locks-on tightly, latching each and every finger painfully. With minimal effort the person tosses Wally through the air and out into the hall. The Australian smashes into the wall, the pictures along it begin to rattle and the house itself seems to shake. Gasping for breath, Wally stammers to his feet. His eyesight is fading but he does his best to keep it going.

The figure manages to pull the knife out of the wood, but lifts it with forces and slices the curtains on the window. Moonlight illuminates the room and the figure can finally be seen. Or that would be the case, however he is wearing a goalie mask on his face, only blue eyes can be seen and even that's only when the shadows aren't covering them.

Wally turns and bolts down the hall, almost slipping down the staircase as he turns. His heart pounds with fear and his veins rush blood through his system. As he reaches the last stair he trips. His jaw slams onto the ground, smashing his teeth together. His mind races, he barely can stand the pain at this point. He manages to pull himself to his feet and escape out the door, which he realises wasn't slammed shut, but was launched across the room.

He can feel the prescense of the attacker only moments behind. If this keeps up Wally will surely be dead. Suddenly..

"Duck!" a voice cries out.

Wally drops to the ground as the voice commanded, still trying to get as distanced from the assasin as he can. A clicking sound and two ovals blast through the air, each one hitting the sides of the attackers neck. A fluecent orange liquid drains from the needles and the attacker stops. His blue eyes gaze out of the mask, staring at the needles that had drained into his system. Then he falls back, heavily landing on the ground.

"Who was that?" Wally asks the new figure.

The new person is short and only around Wally's own age. A white lab coat dangles below his knees, almost at his ankles. He is dressed plainly besides that, blue jeans and red shirt. His hair is odd, swirling around at the top.

"That is Jason Voorhees."