Part 2 of the Scream For Me Series
Episode 13—What Times We've Had
Leatherface had never seen such a pathetic group of piss-poor slashers. A few days had passed since he'd befriended them all—not to mention taken away Jason's ability to make his thoughts known—and promised to lead them to safety, but still they chose to sit here in the same spot. Hardly anything was said and all the four did all damn day was sleep and laze about. Even their wretched pet, Lucky, didn't do a thing but sleep. At last Leatherface could take this no more; his need was growing. He had to get them to the next portal in the lighted city.
One particular morning he jumped up and clapped his large, eternally bloodstained hands together. Everyone glanced over at him, lazily stretching and yawning. Lucky let out a bark as he watched him pace about. Well alright, Leatherface thought happily, motioning to the city just over the clouded horizon. So we've been having fun for the past few days which is great, but now don't you think it's time that we really get going?
There was a moment of awkward silence before Krueger dared to pipe up. He radjusted his hat and said almost miserably, "We can't."
Trying not to show his impatience, Leatherface looked over to him and thought, What are you talking about? Of course you can, now let's go! He hauled Michael to his feet and urged him to take a few steps towards the city that was so far away. Myers shook his head sullenly.
No, you don't understand.
"We really can't go there," Ghostface chimed in, standing up and dusting himself off. He placed a careful hand on Lucky's head and petted him. "We can't go because we don't know how."
Leatherface's eyes shined with a look of intense bewilderment as he shrugged his shoulders. Okay, I don't get it. Look, guys, Safety is just right there! Right there, a few miles away—all you have to do is walk over to it, okay? It's safe, I swear!
From his spot on the ground Jason rolled his eyes and began shaking his head. Of course since the once so proud killer could no longer make his thoughts be heard, he was forced to sit back and watch as Leatherface took control. This had been a grand turn of events as far as Thomas Hewit was concerned—just as he'd been told to do, he'd cast Jason aside and had nearly gotten the others to play into his trap as well. Now all that was left was to get them to move their damn asses.
"We don't know how to win." Ghostface finally admitted.
"Yeah," Freddy agreed, "we've never had a damn thing go right for us ever."
Michael nodded and thought, Yeah, it's hard.
Leatherface sighed, though he tried not to act too annoyed at the idiots. Okay, so you mean to say that you guys have absolutely no clue about how to actually get ahead in life? When they all nodded he found himself gritting his teeth and thinking, Alright, no problem. So you're afraid to go ahead 'cause you think you'll somehow get bad luck and die or something?
"Yup, pretty much. Winning is hard." Ghostface admitted. Lucky barked in dismal agreement.
Thomas turned away, resumed pacing back and forth. His fingers were grazing the rusted blades of his chainsaw and his eyes were wide with madness. No wonder why every other slasher in Hell had hated these idiots; they couldn't do a damn thing right, even if it was as simple as spending half a day walking to the only safe, salvageable place in the world. How could Jason have handled them for so long? Not even a week being the leader and Leatherface was already about to go mad.
Although the newest addition to the group didn't realize it, as he was pacing frantically Jason had resigned himself to sitting in his spot and laughing to himself at Hewitt's simmering impatience. Freddy allowed a sort of half-smile to come across his face as he knelt down next to him. "You seem oddly happy today, Hockeypuck. Something on your mind?" Jason just glared at Krueger sullenly, making him sneer. "Yeah, well I don't wanna be fucking nice to you either, idiot! The only reason I am is 'cause-"
Hey, Jason. Michael thought shyly, approaching the two. He tentatively glanced at Krueger. For the past few days it had been impossible for him to even look at Jason without Freddy throwing a fit about it. Apparently the talking killer and his once-nemesis were now 'best friends'. Though this confused everyone greatly, nobody thought much of it. Clearly everyone was going crazy in their own way, and Freddy's psychopathic possession of Jason was just another way he was coping with his problems.
Jason, however, looked up and gave Myers a desperate look. No longer could they share thoughts; their bond had been severed for some unknown reason. Freddy seized the opportunity to make Michael feel bad and said boldly, "Fuck off, Myers, this is our conversation!"
The youngest slasher just glared at him and insisted, Idiot, you can't have a conversation with him—he can't even think anymore!
Just as he thought this Leatherface finally managed to regain his composure enough to go over to the bickering killers and stand in the middle of them. C'mon, guys, please don't fight. Look, I've got an idea. He motioned once more over to the city of safety. The sun was beginning to set on yet another wasted day now, so its lights were beginning to illuminate the dark sky. Separate; tomorrow we can start going to the city, okay?
Jason glared at him murderously, and so did Freddy. As Leatherface lead Michael away he dared to blurt out, "Yeah, whatever. You sure seem worried about us going to that fucking place for some reason. Doesn't make much sense when we're all perfectly fine here."
Ghostface heard this comment and hurried to add, "I'm not!" and he held up his cell phone, "I don't have service here. Fucking sucks."
"Why the fuck do you need service, anyway?!" Krueger growled. "Who the hell are you calling?"
"Well, I do have a girl to keep up with, dumbass."
Leatherface became slightly interested in this. He cast a curious look over to the talking killer. What, like a girlfriend?
No, Michael answered quietly, more like a rival-one-that-got-away type deal.
And with that, everyone grew silent and sat down. It had been a strange past few days. The whole group had nearly been split apart, sewn back together, and now they sat on the delicate edge of a knife. They had lost their once so precious balance as soon as Leatherface had entered the picture, and now Jason was but a mere fragment of a person. Freddy thought about all of this as he threw himself on the ground next to his nemesis and laid down. His evil eyes took one look up at the sky. He didn't know why, but a creeping sense of worry had begun to fill his rotted heart. It was dragging him down, making him want to just say fuck it all and stay here, in this exact spot. Forever. Maybe then things wouldn't be great, but they'd at least remain the same. He'd still have the other three—the only three that mattered, excluding Leatherface—and perhaps he could be himself again.
Deep down he knew that's what Jason was thinking about, too. He'd learned more than he ever had about the bigger, wiser killer in just a few silent days of companionship. Freddy closed his eyes and finally dared to ask, "So you feel fucked up too, right? Like none of this is gonna work out or be okay again?" when Voorhees nodded and hugged the tattered remnants of his jacket to him, Freddy took a moment to analyze his very rusted, worn glove. "We're all gonna fucking die."
Jason said nothing, just closed his eyes and placed his jacket over his eyes. Krueger watched him as he proceeded to fall into a fitful sleep.
…
He'd begged his mother not to make him go with her. He'd begged her to abandon her summer job, although they needed the money desperately. He'd even gone so far as to beg his father, the infamous Elias Voorhees. "Don't make me go, please." he'd told him.
The older man, so much taller than him and far more intimidating, had merely beat Jason and told him, "Don't be such a Goddamn crybaby, you ugly piece of shit." Jason had done like he always did in those situations—which were far more common than they'd used to be back before Elias had become such a heavy drinker. He slunk away to his mother and cried. This of course lead to a heated fight, shouting, and more hurt.
"You need to learn to shut your fucking mouth, Jason!" his father had howled at him, "One day you'll learn to shut up! Goddamnit, why couldn't you have been a mute?" And it so happened that this was, in fact, the last thing he'd ever hear his true birth-father say to him. It was that night that Elias Voorhees abandoned his wife and child, leaving them to a life of pathetic poverty and desperation...
Now that summer was here, however, Jason wished he'd begged his father a little more persistently. As he and his mother pulled up the camp her young son sighed and looked down, his hands nervously twitching in his lap. She gave him a concerned look. "Jason, what's wrong, dear? I thought you wanted to get out of the house this summer." when her son said nothing she persisted, patting his shoulder, "Here you can make friends. It won't be like at home where they-"
"They'll never be my friends, none of them." he said hopelessly. Pamela Voorhees' eyes filled with hurt.
Yes, deep down she knew her son Jason was different. It was obvious, after all. He'd been born slightly different than most children. There was no denying that her son looked different from a normal child, and that he learned differently, too. He wasn't good in school, failed his tests, and been teased to the point where he refused to go back. She hoped this summer would help boost his self-esteem—she prayed it would.
As the two got out of the car, a group of campers approached them. Pamela held Jason's hand as she guided him over to them. "Mommmm, please don't make me!" he pleaded in a near-whisper, "I don't wanna talk, I just wanna-"
"Now Jason, stop that. It's time for you to make some friends. Here." she tugged him over to where the other kids were and said, "Play nice." then she went off to meet the councilors and introduce herself. There Jason Voorhees stood, a deformed, slow child amidst a crowd of gathering, judgmental nine-year-olds.
He swallowed and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly, began kicking at a little stone in the dirt as he mumbled, "Hi."
Another boy stared at him with wide eyes and the other kids behind him snickered and whispered to each other. At last one of the campers blurted out the question,"What the hell are you?"
"I-I'm Jason...Jason Voorhees." he answered, his voice so quiet it was a near fearful whisper. The children laughed, making his face turn red with embarrassment until he asked, "What?"
The kid spat, "You idiot, we didn't ask your name, I asked what you are."
"Oh. Uh..." Jason swallowed hard, trying to ignore his normal social anxiety. "I...uhh...uhh..."
The kid laughed loudly, a cruel and cold sound, then pushed Jason back a few feet, just for fun. He then turned to the other children and said, "Hey, look. I pushed him and he didn't do anything about it! What a retard."
Jason felt his eyes filling with tears as he asked bravely, "Wh-What did you call me?"
The boy glared at him and said again, this time more venomously, "Shut up, retard! I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to my friends! Do you know what 'friends' are, shitface? No, because you're too damn dog-ugly to have any friends besides your mommy!"
The other kids started laughing. As a councilor approached them the boy who'd been insulting Jason began to walk away, and of course the others followed him, all giggling and talking to each other. The councilor that had interrupted the confrontation saw Jason and smiled. She knelt down to his height—which wasn't that hard considering the fact that he was a little tall for his age—and stuck out her hand.
"Hi there. You must be a new camper. What's your name?"
Jason looked around, thinking that she must be talking to someone—anyone—else, but saw nobody. He turned red and looked at his shoes as he shook her hand and mumbled, "Jason Voorhees."
"And I'm Julie. Oh, and your mom's the new cook, huh? I bet it isn't fun being dragged away from your house during the summer to a place you've never been."
"No." he answered quietly, shaking his head. The councilor smiled down at him warmly and put a supportive hand on his shoulder.
"It'll be okay, Jason. I'll be around if you need somebody to talk to, okay?"
"I don't need anyone," he answered, picking at his nails. Julie just grinned stupidly and stood up to her full height. She waved to him before walking off to meet another councilor. Jason watched her go and rolled his eyes. She was just another one of those 'pretty' girls, just like the ones at his old school. If there was one thing he'd learned about 'pretty' people, it's that they were never, ever nice.
And that began the last summer that the mortal Jason Voorhees would ever know. Rocks were thrown at him, he was beaten up, and he would even have a few teeth knocked out. All of this would pale in comparison to what would happen at the end of it all. Just before Jason had had enough, when the other kid's had ended his day by chasing him and trying to beat the crap out of him with sticks, he found Julia and hid in her cabin. She frowned when she saw him and got up.
"Jason, what's wrong?"
"Other kids." he answered, sniffling and trying not to cry.
"Oh." she said. It was then that she did something very unprecedented. She rose up, went over, and gave Jason Voorhees a hug. He stiffened in her arms, and his eyes grew wide. It lasted for what seemed like forever before Julia broke away and patted his head. "Sometimes," she explained, "people don't understand things that are different, Jason. Does that make sense?"
He considered this for a moment before asking, arching a brow, "So I'm different?"
Julia nodded and said carefully, holding the child's hand in hers, "Different is good, though. Different is amazing."
"But...but I don't want to be different!" Jason said, his eyes filling with tears. "I want to be like everyone else! I don't want to be ugly and stupid! I want friends, I want to be like everyone else!"
The councilor shook her head. "No, Jason, you don't."
"But you're just like everyone else!" he sobbed, throwing himself on the ground. Julia sat next to him and patted his shoulder quietly. "You're normal! You can go to school, and you can learn, and you can make friends and-"
"Jason, life is about being different. It's no fun to be like everybody else!" she said cheerfully. Jason wiped his eyes and looked up at her. He felt something he hadn't felt for anyone other than his mother. As he met the councilor's warm, green eyes he was struck with an amazing feeling of affection for her. All at once he found himself hugging her and smiling.
"You're not like normal people. You're nice, like my mom."
"And you're a nice kid, Jason." She responded, hugging him back.
"I love you." Of course he meant this not in the way that one would love their partner, but in the way that one would love their brother or sister. Julia, however, just heard this and did something strange. She began laughing, and no sooner had she ended the hug than Jason looked up at her, clearly confused. "Why're you...laughing at me?" his face reddened as he hurried to explain, "I mean, like I love my mom or my sister, not like-"
"Oh, Jason. You're a weird little kid!" Julia said, giggling and patting his head. She got up and went to leave the cabin. Before she could, though, Jason called out to her.
"Wait—so you don't love me back?"
Julia flipped her hair over her shoulder and peered over at him. It was then that she seemed like all the other people in the world. The beauty of her pretty little mask washed away and she became nothing short of a monster to him.
Julia shook her head and said with a smile. "Oh, Jason." that was it, that was her response as she left and closed the cabin door behind her. Jason sat there, feeling utterly confused. So what was love, anyway? He sniffled as he thought back to all the times to when he'd told his mother that he'd loved her. She always said it back, because that's just what people did, right? When someone, especially a nine-year-old, deformed, slow boy said I love you, you damn well said it back. Again something happened to Jason for the first time. He grew angry. He didn't know where it came from or why he felt it, but he became horribly enraged.
Without thinking he jumped to his feet and reached for the first thing he could—a framed picture of Julia's, probably one of her friends from school—and flung it against the wall with all his strength. It shattered into a hundred pieces of glistening shards. Jason stared at it and smiled. Before it was over he'd wrecked everything in the cabin before skipping out of the door happily. For some reason, smashing things helped. He'd have to do that more often.
…
"Well that was a piss-poor excuse for a dream." Freddy said. Jason gasped and instantly awoke, looking around wildly. Around him the others were already up and about, trying to find their last bits of personal effects before heading off for the city. Upon realizing that it was Krueger who had woken him up—and spied on his dream, apparently—Jason glared at him murderously. The talking killer just shrugged and explained, "Everyone else here is boring as shit—Leatherface dreams of eating people, Fuckface dreams of gay shit. You're the only one that I can really laugh at."
As if to add insult to injury, Freddy heartlessly began laughing. Jason simply shook his head and stood up to his full height. Leatherface was walking over towards them, Michael trailing behind. Did you sleep good, Jason? Myers asked, I bet you had a bad dream—you always have those. Jason, are you-
"Fuck off, Myers. He's my friend now." Krueger spat as he pushed past the two and made his way over to Ghostface. Jason watched him go and shook his head.
Wordlessly, Leatherface laid a large hand on Voorhees' shoulder and thought with false concern, We're about to head out, and I just wanted to make sure we didn't leave you behind. Think you'll be able to keep up?
Oh, how badly Jason wished he could make his thoughts be heard again. Instead he just shot Hewitt a look so full of seething hatred that he actually backed away slightly. Angrily Voorhees picked up his machete and scooped up his now useless jacket. He could feel Michael staring at him and finally acknowledged him with a look of beaten-down misery. What? He wanted to say, come to talk down to me, too? Freddy already does that enough.
I-I mean, Michael thought awkwardly at last, I'm still mad at you, but...damn it, Jason, I still lo-
Alright, everyone start walking. Leatherface broke in, placing a hand on Myers' shoulder and leading him away, towards the direction of the city. He cast Jason an evil look and smiled under his messily stitched mask.
…
As the group set off, the mood was brightened slightly. Ghostface began singing to himself and Leatherface began engaging them all in stories of his long-forgotten murderous rampages. Even Freddy was interested in this, as he pushed Jason off to the side and began talking candidly with the newest member of the group. So, temporary alliances aside, Jason was left to shuffle along by himself, distractedly picking at the seams of his old black shirt. Michael noticed this and seized his opportunity to walk next to him.
I know it probably sucks to not be able to talk at all anymore, he silently thought, nudging Voorhees' arm. But I found something that Ghostface left lying around—here. He passed the bigger killer a small pocket-sized notebook and stub of a pencil. Jason took it in his decayed hands and began to flip through it. A few pages were ripped out and a few more scribbled on with notes like 100$ rent by 1st, but other than that it was fine.
His hands shook as he held the pencil in them. He had so much to say, but as he walked along his words failed him. In the end all he could manage to shakily write was, Don't trust him.
Michael barley managed to read this before Leatherface had noticed the two and snatched the paper away. Without a second thought he ripped the whole book in half effortlessly then threw it at Jason. Micahel watched this, his mouth agape in surprise under his mask. Wh...what the fuck did you do that for, Leatherface?! He was just writing, it wasn't hurting anyone!
Michael, he's retard. Think about it—he probably doesn't even know how to write.
Jason was so used to people metaphorically pushing him around that at this point he just lowered his head and stared at the scraps of paper as they fluttered away in the stagnant breeze. Freddy began to smile. Seeing an opportunity to make Leatherface into a bad guy, he jumped into the fight and cried out, "Damn it—Jason was just about to write something important, I know it!"
Guys, come on, he's a mentally unstable idiot! How could he possibly have anything important to say whatsoever? Leatherface demanded silently. As if personally offended by this comment, Ghostface ceased his singing.
"Hey," he chirped, "don't say that about Jason. He doesn't like it when people point out the fact that he's retarded."
"Or ugly." Freddy added, smiling. Jason rolled his eyes. He was done with this whole thing. No matter what he did Leatherface would come out on top, anyway. He couldn't argue like this, without his voice. He needed to figure out how to get his thoughts back. Michael just watched him begin to walk away, a look of great confusion overtaking him.
See, look! He's just walking away! He doesn't know what's going on, anyway! He's too stupid.
Freddy opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He looked over at Jason and noticed just how his shoulders were miserably slumped, how he was nearly crying. It then hit him that this was Leatherface's plan all along, and no matter what he did or said at this point, it would only worsen everyone's perception of Jason.
He was making everyone think that Jason Voorhees was regressing, that yes, despite everything the reason that their lives hadn't worked out so far was because essentially they were all trailing after a legitimately mentally unstable, slow person. Freddy felt the urge to utterly slaughter Thomas Hewitt where he stood, but realized that this would do little good. The game was already in motion, the plan already so far along that it was unstoppable. He had to tell Jason. He had to make sure he knew that he couldn't keep doing this, that he couldn't keep giving up like a small child and letting people roll over him. He considered how ironic it was that he, the Springwood Slasher was helping the Camp Crystal Lake killer. Silently he backed away from Leatherface and lowered his hat over his eyes.
Thomas merely mistook Krueger's apparent surrender as a sign that he'd won the argument. He awkwardly put an arm across Michael's shoulders and urged him to keep walking. The fact that the kid was too stupid and confused to realize he was being manipulated pissed Freddy off immensely. He had to make him realize what he was doing wrong before they reached that damn city...but how, when they were already so close to it? As Ghostface walked past him happily texting away on his cell phone Freddy got an idea. He looked around, made sure nobody was watching, then quickly passed by and ran a razored hand over Fang's back.
Everyone had figured out by now that although the decaying wolf—which was falling apart more and more by the day—loved to get back scratches, there was a certain exposed vertebra along his spine that he absolutely hated to have touched. As Freddy's claw nicked the spinal nerve, Fang let out a horribly loud howl and instinctively bit at the first thing he could get his jaws around; Ghostface's leg. The small killer of course went down with a cry as the wolf crunched down hard on the bone.
In a moment mass chaos had broken out. Everyone was running around, confused as to what had set the wolf off and afraid to be the next one who got bit. Freddy took this opportunity to yell loudly above the ensuing idiotic mess, "Yep, that's it, can't go on!"
Leatherface seemed to see right through this plan and stopped panicking. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, arched a brow under his mask, and thought, Why should we stop? I'll drag Ghostface and it'll be fine.
Freddy hurried to say, waving his claws in the air, "Nu-uh, no way. Fuckface is hurt. Game over."
But-
Ghostface, seeing the opportunity to get some attention, quickly began rolling around on the ground and howling. "Ow-ow-ow-ow! Oh my God, he bit me! He broke my leg, he-"
"Shut the fuck up, bitch." Freddy muttered, kicking him in his already injured leg. Michael watched this and sighed.
Now what do we do? We can't keep going if one of us is hurt...
Sure we can! Hewitt insisted, trying to pick up a kicking and screaming Ghostface. This proved fruitless as he was delivered a firm kick in the mouth. Trying to keep his cool, he pressed one hand to his now bleeding lip and took a deep breath. One night, he thought dangerously, one fucking night, then we're going to that city—all of us. Got it?
It was at this point that Ghostface ceased his screaming and for once shut his mouth. Michael's eyes were wide as he focused his gaze upon Leatherface. Was it just him, or were they now being bullied and forced to go to the damn city? He had a feeling that even if he would've disagreed to Thomas Hewitt's plan, he would've been going there one way or another—dead or alive, he could see that in Leatherface's eyes it didn't matter much anymore.
Freddy noted the tension in the air and tried not to smile. So it only took a kick to the face and Leatherface had temporarily abandoned his charade? This might be simpler than he'd planned. Ghostface tugged on his pant leg and asked pathetically, "Does Leatherface hate me now?"
Freddy rolled his eyes and kicked him away roughly. "Don't fucking touch me. And yeah, if he has any sense he does. I fucking hate your guts too, if it makes you feel better."
He looked down and said in a whiny voice, "It doesn't...and my leg still hurts." he pulled up the tattered fabric that remained on the injured leg and stared at his wound. A few teeth-marks stood out on his pale flesh, red and festering. Not much to see.
Krueger left Ghostface to his own devices and went over to where Jason was pouting. He carelessly pushed him to get his attention and hissed, careful not to let anyone overhear, "Hockeypuck, listen—tonight we're staying here." Jason's eyes lit up a little as he cast a victorious look over to Freddy. Really?! That's great! He seemed to think. Krueger sighed. He was disgusted with the fact that he could now nearly read the very look in his old enemy's eyes now. Clearly they'd been spending too much time together.
"Yeah, and listen. I thought of a way to get you and Myers back together, 'cause this shit between you and me, it's not fucking working. He's the only fucker in the world that can put up with your constant bullshit. Now listen; tonight, no matter what Leatherfuck says, sleep next to Myers. Got it?"
Jason shrugged and nodded, though silently he wondered how he'd even be able to get close to Myers with Leatherface interfering. Freddy seemed to sense this and raised a clawed finger. "Don't forget how fucking smart I am. By the time this is done, you and Myers will be so close you'll be fucking kissing."
Jason's eye twitched nervously and he shook his head. No, there would be none of that. Freddy shrugged and walked away. "Just wait, Voorhees."
…
Truthfully, thoughts had been racing through his head for the past few days. Ever since Michael had nearly disowned him Jason had gotten time to think. A lot of time. The weird thing was that the longer he spent without his ability to communicate, the harder it became to think in general.
He felt like he was becoming a mindless zombie; he also felt sick to his stomach most of the time. It made him tired. In fact, as Freddy walked away from him all Voorhees had the energy to do was to slowly meander over to where the others were and sit down calmly. If Krueger said he had a foolproof plan, then he'd play along. After all of this Leatherface mess is finally past, he'd fight Freddy again he'd decided. This time it would be to the death. After all the shit that the talking killer had given him since Thomas Hewitt's sudden and unprecedented appearance he could barely stand being around him.
It would all be okay, soon. He watched calmly as the sun began setting. All the while Leatherface was absurdly pacing around, pressing his damn hand to that cut in his lip. What was he thinking about? Could Freddy get into Thomas' head as easily as his?
As if to answer this as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and the lights of the city kicked on stronger than ever, Freddy clinked his claws together and announced, "Alright fuckers, if we wanna wake up bright and early and get to the fucking safe city tomorrow, we'd better shut our annoying asses up and go to sleep." he pointed a burnt finger at an ever whining Ghostface and added, "That means you, Fuckface. Sleep. Now. And you too, Myers."
Leatherface gave him a skeptical look and thought, So you're saying we should sleep now? You, Freddy Krueger, aren't starting shit?
"I'm not sleepy at all." Ghostface cried, hugging his leg. Beside him Lucky licked at him tentatively, still clearly guilty for delivering the painful bite in the first place. Freddy didn't accept this; he went over and punched him as hard as he could in the head. Instantly Ghostface collapsed into a heap and blacked out.
Everyone grew awkwardly quiet as he asked dangerously, "Anyone else need help sleeping?"
It was not a surprise when the whole group—even Leatherface—laid down on the sodden ground. Clearly Thomas was still sore about being kicked in the face, because for the first time since he'd joined the group he made the mistake of sleeping a ways away. This perfectly suited Freddy's plan as he tugged Myers over to the direction of Jason. "Sleep there, Myers. New fucking rule."
What, that I have to be by Jason?
"Uh yeah, what the fuck ever. Just shut your eyes and go to sleep."
The two silent killers awkwardly exchanged glances before laying down and turning their backs to each other. Freddy smiled deviously to himself and sat himself down at their feet. Perfect.
…
Freddy's eyes were closed, his mouth drawn into a thin line. It took great concentration to do this, and if nobody other than he, the Dream King himself, could've pulled it off. It was a trick he'd only done a handful of times, and never before had he used it to actually help someone. As he delved into Michael Myers' dreams he felt a little strange. Dreams were to him like a blank canvas; just mere devices of play that he used to manipulate and find out the deepest thoughts of everyone he'd been close to. As he fell into the mist that was Michael's dream he felt himself blending into the scenery of it.
This was always the way with the dreams he invaded. He started out as a mere fragment of the background, and slowly, the more vivid the dream grew, the more he himself would grow and root to that particular world. It was an ancient, evil process which none other than he dared to delve into. As he felt his very essence bleed into the background of the scene a blurred image of young Michael Myers came unto him. There were two adults, most likely his mother and father, a baby and a teenage girl sitting with him on a couch.
They watched the adults yell back and forth. Freddy rolled his eyes. He didn't care about any of this, but when Michael's name was brought into the fray his ears perked up. Casually he made his way out from the shadows of what was apparently a halfway decent living room and wandered over to the couch. He leaned against it, totally confident in the fact that he couldn't be seen yet. The father was yelling, now.
"If you would just take two damn seconds to parent the fucking boy, then-"
"Well it's not my fault you're buried in your work all the time!"
All at once the situation grew ten times worse as the father began hitting her, crying loudly, "I never even wanted the damn kid! Look at him, he's not right! He's-"
"Alright," Freddy said at last. Suddenly everyone was staring at him, even Michael. "This is great and all, but I'm bored now. Kid-Myers, get over here, now." Michael's eyes grew wide. Since he wouldn't move, Krueger took the opportunity to raise his clawed hand. "Fine. You don't wanna fucking play along? I'll make you, bitch. Get over here!"
With little restraint he rose up and wandered over. Freddy clinked his claws together and instantly the child transformed into the fully grown man that he was used to seeing. Once the adult Michael stood in front of him, tense and furious, Krueger began laughing darkly. "What's wrong? Doesn't little Myers wanna play?"
Krueger, get out of my fucking dream! You swore you wouldn't get in our dreams back when we were living together! You fucking promised!
Freddy shrugged the other killer's rage off and began walking back into the back void that he'd come through. The shadow grew as he walked nearer it, expanding and smothering them both. When Myers wouldn't follow he once again beckoned him and forced him to. Silently he guided Myers into the void between the realm of their existence, and pulled him roughly in front of him.
"Walk." he growled. As they wandered along, their footsteps echoing through the netherworld that they were in, he stated,"You see, your fucking problem is pride, Myers. You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, even though you fucking swore to Voorhees you'd changed. You're a selfish kid."
What?! He thought indignantly, I'm not selfish! I-
"You've been giving Voorhees shit because he snapped and slapped you—something that we've done to you a hundred damn times. The only difference," he explained in his grating, angry voice, "is that you can't accept that he finally stood up for himself and told you how full of crap you are."
When Myers began to think his protests, Freddy pressed his razored index finger to his lips. Instantly the thoughts of the other killer were silenced as they reached another deep void. Freddy unceremoniously pushed Myers into it and together they tumbled into the dream of Jason Voorhees...
...
Of course, it wasn't hard to figure out who had trashed Julia's cabin. Later that very day Jason was condemned to his own cabin that he shared with his mother for the rest of the day. This suited him fine, though. It had worked out better than he'd expected, as a matter of fact. He didn't have to see the other campers for the rest of the day. His mother, however, had a different outlook on it altogether. She approached her son and said sternly, "Jason, how could you? I just started here and you're already being bad! I thought we talked about this!"
"You talked, mom, and I said I didn't want to come here, anyway! I hate it here!" Jason argued. For some reason, since his tantrum he'd gained a little confidence in himself. He liked breaking things. He'd never done it before at home but now he could barley remember a time before that one moment. It had been amazing; to have control over something and utterly destroy it, break it into a million pieces. Could he do that to people, too?
Mrs. Voorhees let out a stressed sigh and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Jason, you can't just break other people's things! It's not right!"
"Says who? And what about if the people break my stuff first, do I just sit there?" he was mostly just wondering this to himself, no so much to her. Of course she heard it, though.
"What do you mean, Jason?" a hint of concern filled her voice as she sat down across from her son.
"What I mean is, what if someone breaks my stuff—what if they break me? Can that happen, mommy? Can someone break someone else, like break them so bad that they don't know right from wrong anymore?" Young Jason looked down at the floorboards and began tracing the rough wood with his small fingers. "What if I'm broken?"
"Oh, honey, no." She pulled her son into a hug and said into his ear, "You are not broken! Why would you say that?"
He took a long moment to think before whispering, "Because I want to break them—everyone around me."
After that Mrs. Voorhees seemed to attain an air of slight sadness around her son. She'd finally figured out that although Jason was her precious little boy, that he was also slightly becoming unhinged. It was no surprise to her when he'd drowned that summer. She hated to admit it, but she was slightly relieved, because that look that he'd had in his eyes the last few days before he'd died...it was dark. It was empty. It was like Jason was already gone...
Why the fuck did you bring me here to watch this? Michael demanded silently of Freddy. The two had been standing there, seeing the scene of the beginning of the end of Voorhees' innocence unfold. Throughout the whole thing Freddy hadn't allowed Myers to make any noise. Now, however, as the two watched the boy slowly rise up and grow into his full self, the self that would kill people years later, he allowed Meyrs to think. Still Voorhees couldn't hear them, though. Michael was left to stand there, his hands shaking and clenching into fists, as he turned to Krueger.
I don't want to see anymore of this—it's wrong. We shouldn't be in his mind right now. This—all of this—is his to know, not ours.
"What if I drown the bitch?" Freddy questioned. "Then would it be your business?" he knew he sounded cruel, but then again he didn't really care. He'd grown long tired of the whole Voorhees-Myers angst thing. He needed them to realize their feelings and get over themselves. It needed to be done for all of their sakes—it was tearing their once semi-functional family apart.
Michael's eyes filled with a venomous rage as he reached for Krueger. Don't you dare! I really will kill you!
"Stop me then, bitch." he challenged as a new scene began to unfold before them. Though Freddy had fully intended to change it, he was surprised when Jason himself began dreaming a new nightmare. Before them a lake began to take shape. A large one, lined by a rocky shoreline. Cabins loomed over the two killers as they watched Jason, now an adult, walk over to the lake and stop. The water was up to his ankles as he stared down into it and did something that no living person besides his mother had seen him do—he began to cry. His voice seemed to come alive as he sobbed and tore at the musty jacket that hung from his shoulders. It seemed that this could be nothing short but the end of Jason's world, and Michael was left to stand there immobilized, watching it all. Freddy kept him that way for a long while, letting him suffer, before he dared to speak.
"Alright, now I've known this fucker years before you did, and you know what?" when no response came he spat hatefully, "You know what the fuck he's been crying about for the past five fucking years straight, since he's had to live with you and me and Fuckface?"
Michael's dark eyes were clouded with tears. Freddy angrily slapped him across the face before saying cruelly, "You fuck, stop crying. This shouldn't be hurting you!"
But...but it is...watching him stand there like that, sounding like everything's being torn away from him...I can't... Michael looked down at his hands and began to tremble. I can't stand it...please let me go over to him.
"He's crying over you." Freddy finally completed, his metal claws rubbing together. Out of the murkiness of the lake, there formed a figure of fog. Michael had to squint hard in order to make out the huge silhouette pulling something. A cord? In an instant the monstrous roar of a chainsaw revved to life.
The young killer found himself only able to think, his heart breaking, Jason, NO! Look out!
Unfortunately Voorhees could neither hear nor see him; he only raised his head when Leatherface began wading towards him, wielding his heavy chainsaw in a manic sort of bloodthirsty rage. Freddy placed a hand on Myers' arm and easily kept him in place, made sure he was staring as he made his conjuring of Thomas Hewitt rev his chainsaw once more and force it messily through Jason's already recently stitched stomach. The tearing of flesh and innards that could be heard was horrific. As the track of the chainsaw gouged through Jason's back, Michael's white mask was covered with some of his best friend's sloppily butchered innards. Freddy smiled to himself and he watched as Jason fell to his knees before this powerful foe; he gripped Leatherface's bloodstained, yellowed apron, trying to stand up again.
It was then, as Michael began begging Freddy to allow him to wake up, to quit this torture, that Jason's thoughts pierced the dark horror of the nightmare. He stared up tearfully into Leatherface's emotionless eyes and thought at last, Just don't hurt Michael...
This is too much! Michael thought, at last shielding his eyes from his best friend's death. Why the fuck are you making me watch this?
"I'm not making you watch anything," Freddy responded snappishly, raising his razored hand. "I'm just showing you what you're so scared of."
I know Leatherface wouldn't-
"Then why is this all I see when I look in your shitty brain?"
There was a moment of silence. Michael cast his gaze down to his shoes, then over to the cold and dead pile of gore that had once been Jason. At last he admitted, I'm not scared of Thomas...
"But you are scared of what he's gonna do to Voorhees. Now listen," Krueger hissed, grabbing Myers' collar and pulling him close so that he could say in a low, threatening voice, "I don't make shit up in dreams—all I'm showing you is what you already fucking know; what you're scared of deep down. Now I'm tired of fucking around. Either you and the Hockeypuck patch things up or..." he motioned over to the still hulking form of Leatherface. Michael shut his eyes tightly and shook his head.
Let me wake up! I wanna wake up Now!
…
Wake up, wake up, guys! Today's the day! Leatherface thought as he shook Jason awake. He could tell that both he and Myers were clearly having some distressing dream. Freddy was laying close to them, though there was a distinct smile on his face. He'd already woken up and as Thomas Hewitt approached him, he smiled evilly at him and tipped his hat.
"Morning, fucker."
And what are you so happy about?
"Nah, nothing. Just had a great fucking dream. Yep, never been so rested in my life."
"I dreamt I turned into a zombie." Ghostface commented offhandedly as he got up with the help of Lucky. Together the two wandered over to where Jason and Myers were laying. Ghostface nudged Jason with his shoe and said annoyingly, "Wakey-wakey, Hockeypuck."
"Hey, don't fucking call him that, Fuckface. That's my name for him." Freddy said snappishly as he got to his feet. In a second Jason's eyes were open, as were Myers. Realizing that they were back in the real world they looked deliberately away from each other and got up. Krueger saw this and frowned to himself. Once they'd gotten their things together and were on their way again, he pulled Jason off to the side and demanded, "Alright, Hockeypuck, so what'd you do to fuck it up this time?"
Jason looked down and tried to make his thoughts heard, but like usual he couldn't. Krueger just shook his head in disgust and pushed past him. "Fuck you queers—I'm done trying to help anyone. I'll just take down Leatherface my fucking self, if you're too fucking stupid and chicken to help me."
Jason could only find it in him to sigh. They were only an hour away from their city of sanctuary now, and it had been so long since they'd heard a zombie that he almost felt okay about everything...almost. If it hadn't been for Ghostface's constant complaining about his leg—which was looking worse and more infectious and festering by the minute—or the fact that Lucky was ceaselessly growling at some unknown threat, he might've felt right as rain.
Just as he became gloomily lost in his thoughts he felt a familiar presence. He glanced to his right to see Michael trudging along next to him. What was wrong with him? He looked at Jason in the way one might look at a ghost. Curiously, Voorhees went to nudge him like they'd always done before—before Leatherface, before this mess. To his surprise Michael actually let him and even walked a little closer to him. Jason flashed him a confused look, one which made Michael finally break his gaze and sigh.
Silently he thought, Jason, I had a dream of you...and Leatherface...
What was he talking about? Jason shrugged, clearly lost with what his friend was trying to tell him. Michael continued with some difficulty, I know you can't really think to me right now, but I just figured that you should know that I think Leatherface is really trying to help us; yeah, I'm scared just like you are I bet, but sometimes you just have to learn to trust people. Under his mask he flashed Jason a supportive look and, just as he began to walk faster, Jason heard him think, And if you can't trust him, trust me. At least do that.
Jason wanted to, he really did, but something in him—a rotted, long forgotten part of his newly beating heart—found himself unable to. He took a deep breath and jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants. On his shoulder he cared his tattered jacket, and he suddenly found himself holding it close to his hockey mask and hugging it. It was the only thing that he could cling to in times like these; because deep down he knew that he, along with Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, and Ghostface, could never win. They were all losers, and quite soon they'd all die.
…
**A/N Apology**
Know it's been a while, but please just know that not for one moment have I forgotten about this story. I knew what I wanted to say, but for the first time since I began this story I didn't know how to say it. Truthfully, I've begun to realize that I've done exactly what I wanted to with this fic—I love where it started and I love where it's ended up. In short, I am honored and lucky to have so many reviews and favs. I appreciate it more than anyone can ever know, and yet...
It's time for Scream For Me to regretfully come to a solemn close. So this, along with the next episodes—maybe it will take more than one—will be the closing to this series that has been in my life since I began writing in high school. I was scared to end this story because I didn't know how I'd be able to move on after writing a pretty decent fic., but I'm not so scared anymore. I've already begun developing another horror-movie based story.
So, in short, I hope that I'll be able to give you all the ending you deserve. We'll end it where we began, and I hope you'll love every moment of reading it—just as I've loved every moment I've put into writing this.
Peace & Love, forever