Fiery Pen

Previously on… Father Death (19)

15

“Bitch!” Billy screamed.

Feathers fluttered to the ground around him. He panted in his anger as sweat prickled on his skin. She was not going to take this from him. Not his perfectly laid plan. Not after he had come so far and gotten this close. He just had to find that bitch and finish what he had started with her mother.

He could still salvage this.

He breathed through the swell in his brain. He had to control himself. Things only worked when he controlled himself and when he controlled Stu. Settling his nerves, he retraced his more frantic steps back down the hallway. Halloween had returned to television. Laurie Strode cowering in a closet as Michael Myers punched through the meager door.

The closet. Billy hesitated outside the hall closet, eyeing it. He turned the knob and peered in then cast his eyes down toward the television.

Father Death burst from the hanging jackets and plunged the tip of an umbrella into Billy’s shoulder. The blunt end forced a painful wound through his flesh.

He cried out in pain and surprise. The knife and gun tumbled from his hand, released in the shock. He turned to retrieve them, ignoring his injury, but his assailant drew the umbrella back and sent it through his chest again. Crying out, he collapsed to the hardwood floor.

From his drape on the kitchen counter, Stu heard Billy’s expletive. He knew Billy’s voice. He knew his tone. The painful edge on Billy’s cry conjured a surge of adrenaline in Stu. His body turned away from the pain and the dying and surged out of the kitchen. When he skidded into the hallway, he glimpsed Sidney standing over Billy’s fallen body, peeling off the Father Death mask and shedding the robe.

Stu released a battle cry before barreling toward Sidney. He tackled her like a football player, like Steven Orth. They rolled until Sidney landed on top of Stu and planted her knee in his groin. Through the pumping of adrenaline, he ignored her blow and punched her in the face. Sidney rolled away and scrambled to her feet.

Stu dove after her blindly, wrestling her over the couch. They collided with the coffee table and tumbled in a tangle of limbs and flurry of feathers. She fell to the ground, and he wiggled on top of her.

“I always had a thing for you, Sid.” A thing for killing you. A thing like Billy had for your mother.

Stu pinned her arms down. Sidney leaned over and sunk her teeth into his hand. Howling in pain, he released her. She snatched up a vase and smashed it against his head. His vision exploded in sparks, and he tumbled to the floor.

“Bitch,” he murmured from his back. That dark cloud swelled back over him as his mind swam.

Sidney scurried to her feet and rounded the television. Stu sputtered through the haze in his head, the weight returning to his mind. He turned his eyes up to see Laure Strode hunched in a closet clutching a butcher knife. Sidney planted her hands on the back of the television.

“In your dreams,” she said, shoving the television.

The television tipped from the stand and careened down onto Stu. The screen smashed into his face. His head went through the glass, and the electricity surged through his body. Stu screamed into the box as sparks and smoke swirled around him. His arms and legs flailed and twitched until he and the television fell still.

Billy heard Sidney’s steps move across the floor, nearing him again. Like any good scary movie, he knew to play dead. He knew to wait and see what she did. He was going to kill her. She just needed to be closer.

She crouched beside him and gathered up the discarded mask. What a stupid time to look at the mask, Billy thought as he kept his breathing shallow. He concentrated on remaining immobile. When Sidney gasped, he resisted the startle.

“I’m sorry,” Randy said. “It’s all right.”

Ugh, that fucker is still alive. How did I not kill this prick?

“Oh my god,” Sidney said. “Randy, I thought you were dead.”

You should be fucking dead.

“I probably should be. I never thought I would be so happy to be a virgin.”

Let me help you out. Billy punched his fist up through Randy’s face, sending him sprawling back to the floor. Snatching Sidney by the shoulders, he threw her down to the hardwood.

“Fucker!” he cried.

Billy lay his body alongside Sidney, pinning her down. She squirmed helpless under his weight. He wiggled one hand around the knife then slid the other one around her neck. Once he found her throat, he squeezed down hard. Her eyes went wide. He had her.

“Say hello to your mother,” Billy said.

Sidney’s eyes narrowed, her brow drawing down to tighten her features. Reaching up, she planted her finger inside the wound in Billy’s chest. Pain exploded across his mind. He could not contain the scream tearing from his mouth. He reared back and lifted the knife high to finally get rid of her, to finally be done dealing with her shit. If nothing else, he was going to kill Sidney Prescott tonight.

The bullet tore through his shoulder and sent him off Sidney and back onto the floor. He hit the hardwood, coughing and sputtering in his own blood. The pain enveloped him. It felt so much like failure. He pumped his legs to slide along the floor, away from Sidney. From hooded eyes, he glimpsed Gale standing over him with the gun.

That bitch didn’t die either. Did we actually kill anyone?

The lights grew halos above his head. In the swimming glow, he saw Sidney, Gale, and Randy step over him. He allowed his eyes to close, for the pain to wash over him in a wave. It could not end like this. This could not be the way his plan unraveled.

“Careful.” Randy’s voice seemed quiet and distant. “This is the moment when the supposably dead killer comes back to life for one last scare.”

He was the killer. This was his movie.

Billy opened his eyes and reached for Sidney one last time. Sidney pulled the trigger and shot him in the forehead.

“Not in my movie,” she said.

Billy’s head dropped to the hardwood with a thud. A trickle of blood snaked down his forehead from the wound. He lay splayed on his back, his hands bloodied and haphazard above his head. His body flopped on the floor, lifeless, like Maureen on her bed one year ago. Her daughter stood above him, still holding the gun as his plan spiraled away into the air around them. As he mirrored his initial victim now, they had indeed come full circle, just not as he had wanted.

Continued on… Father Death (21)

Christina Bergling

https://linktr.ee/chrstnabergling

Like my writing? Check out my books!

• Followers – You never know who is on the other side of the screen. Followers is a mystery and thriller that blends women’s fiction with horror.
• The Rest Will Come – Online dating would drive anyone to murder, especially Emma.
• Savages – Two survivors search the ruins for the last strain of humanity. Until the discovery of a baby changes everything.
• The Waning – Locked in a cage, Beatrix must survive to escape or be broken completely.
• Screechers – Mutant monsters and humans collide in the apocalyptic fallout of a burned world. Co-authored with Kevin J. Kennedy.
• Horror Anthologies