I am a huge fan of horror movies and spoofs. The following is the first of two scenes. It is my humble attempt at a bit of a spoof involving five young men and the contemporary fixation of a cellphone. I will be repeating this scene with five young ladies in the same situation with the same props. I thought it would be fun to play the old game of boys against the girls. The girls will be arriving in the next week or two. I hope you like it.
Five teenage boys tear through the trees in mindless panic, smashing limbs and brush with every step, their terror manifesting in a wide trail of destruction. They race to a red pick-up truck parked just off a dirt road and pile into it, shoving, gasping and sweating. The driver, black hair falling loose from his low ponytail jams his key into the ignition and turns. Nothing happens. The engine doesn’t turn over. There is no sign of electrical life. Harsh, ragged breaths fill the cab.
“Crap, the battery is dead.” Wisit’s slender calloused fingers grip the wheel tightly, his face pale with shock.
“What? What do you mean dead?” Sean leaned forward from the back seat of the crew cab, his normally bright red hair now dark with sweat and sticking wetly to his skull. A strong aroma of weed clung heavily to his Panic at the Disco t-shirt. “Wist, this isn’t a bit humorous. Start the damn truck!”
“I can’t.” Wisit shook his head slowly, denial plain on his face. “The battery is dead.”
“How can it be dead? We’ve only been here for two days?” Sean griped the back of the front seat and pushed his pale face forward. “There is a crazy guy in a mask out there trying to kill us! It can’t be dead!”
“It’s been acting up. I probably should have changed out the battery but I thought it would be okay for the weekend.” Wisit stared at the dash, eyes vacant, thin shoulders sagging. Sitting shot-gun beside him Christopher looked like he’d been poleaxed, dark eyes wide, moonlight accentuating the sharpness of his high cheekbones. His left hand fingered a fresh gash on the front of his orange and white lettermans’ jacket. Wisit looked at him bleakly. The rear passenger door opened and Austin flounced out, white Nikes flashing against the dark ground.
“Great,” he sneered. “My parents can go to their graves secure in the knowledge that they didn’t have to spend a dime of their precious money to fix me.” Pacing the length of the truck he reached the tailgate and spun on his heel to stalk back the other way. “Some psycho with an ax is going to do it for them!” Each step made his sweat-soaked snowy blond hair flop against his forehead like a dead trout. The other back door opened and DeShawn exited cautiously, leaving Sean alone in the back, still hanging over the back of the front seat. Hopping around the front of the truck he caught Austin in mid spin.
“What are you talking about? Fix you how?” Wide nostrils already flared from fear widened further as he grabbed his friend by the arm and jerked him to a halt. “Austin, answer me!” Austin laughed harshly in DeShawn’s face.
“Wash the gay away! Didn’t you know?” He sniffed sarcastically. “Some religious group and their door-knocking, pamphlet-handing flunkies found the perfect pair of suckers when they knocked on my parents door.”
“That’s such bullshit.” DeShawn looked pained. “I didn’t think people believed that stuff anymore.” He looked down at his own sneakers, twins to Austins.
“Well they do!” Austin smirked. “But it’s okay. Slasher is going to take care of the problem.” He pointed with his chin in the direction they had all ran from. “He should be here any minute.” As the last word faded away the other truck doors opened. Christopher, Sean and Wisit got out and grouped together at the front of the truck. Five pairs of eyes scanned the woods. Christopher pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pressed the button. Wisit forced a chuckle.
“Not likely bro, mine roamed itself to death on the first day.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. “There must not be a cell tower within a hundred miles of this place.” He watched Christopher carefully as the jocks’ face darkened with emotion that he didn’t even try to control.
“FUCK!” Christopher kicked explosively at the front tire of the truck and whirled on Wisit. “You knew you needed a new battery!”
“You knew it too Chris. I pick you up every day.” Wisit met his eyes. Ignoring the remark Christopher continued his tirade.
“You volunteered to drive knowing your battery might not last? What kind of an idiot are you?”
“Um, I think the answer is in the question.” DeShawn looked pointedly at Christopher and shrugged.
“Screw you Dee!” Wisit stepped to within an inch of DeShawn’s face and swept out a hand to encompass all of them. “There are five of us with a ton of camping gear. I am the only one with a vehicle large enough to hold all of us and our stuff.” Jabbing his thumb at the truck with its crew cab and extended box he pressed his lips into a tight, thin line. “Next time you can haul everyone’s ass in your Jetta!”
“My Jetta gets thirty-eight miles to the frickin’ gallon asshole! What do you get? Eight?” DeShawn bulged his eyes at Wisit. “Oh! Wait! That’s right, it gets zero because IT DOESN’T RUN!”
“Oh Jesus, Mary and Dwayna! It doesn’t matter!” Austin threw his hands in the air and shook them waspishly over the snarling boys’ heads. “There isn’t going to be a next time if we can’t get out of here right now.”
The truck rocked on its springs as Christopher scaled quickly to the roof of the cab and held his cell phone up to the sky. His muscular frame created an eerie silhouette in the night. DeShawn craned his head back to watch.
“Can you get a signal?”
“Almost… THERE! I have one!” Christopher smiled down at the group excitedly. “I have two bars!”
“Fabulous,”Austin drawled, now assessing his fingernails. “Call somebody and get us out of here.” Wisit fixed Austin with a crabby stare.
“Did you get all the shit out from under those?”
Austin cocked an eyebrow and held out a hand. “No Wist, wanna sniff?” Wisit reared back, smacking at him like he was a giant bug. Austin laughed with delight, “Jesus dude, that was gayer than me!”
“Fuck off. And it’s Wisit not wist. Two syllables you dick!”
DeShawn chuckled from the sideline.
“Yeah, I know… glor-i-ous.” Austin rolled his eyes. “That one is three syllables. Do you want to hear them again?” Christopher interrupted the argument with a moan from the top of the cab. All four look up in fresh alarm.
“What’s going on Chris?” DeShawn darted his eyes around, searching the immediate area again. “Did you lose the signal?” Christopher closed his eyes, distress oozing from his entire body.
“Then what? What’s going on?” Sean glowered up at him. Christopher looked down at his friends bleakly.
“The RLOS XVII update. It’s coming in.”
“What?” DeShawn leaped onto the truck tire and scrabbled over the side of the bed to see Christopher’s phone. “You’re kidding, right? That update isn’t supposed to roll out here in America until Tuesday!” Wisit reached inside his jacket to pull out his own phone.
“Damn! I’m completely dead.”
“Me too.” Sean is staring at his phone also, the expression on his face a mix of despair and anger. Austin snapped his fingers multiple times to get their attention.
“Hellooooo? Anyone remember the guy with the ax?” He pointed back into the forest. “You know, the one coming to kill us?” Tipping his head back he barked at Christopher, “STOP THE DAMN UPDATE!” Christopher, eyes filled with indecision shook his head slowly side to side.
“I’ve been waiting for this for months.”
Austin stared intently past the front bumper. “Gentlemen,” he said flatly, “Our window of opportunity is officially closed.” The others followed his gaze. Coming toward them with the gate of a camel through hot desert sand was the hulking figure of the man in the mask. The shape of a very large ax hanging loosely in one hand was clearly visible in the moonlight.