Boomer's Campfire Stories

- 3 -

I made my way down a quiet road. The only sounds were my feet shuffling against the pavement. The harbor should only be a couple more miles Northwards.

I decided to jog, to reach my destination faster. It was only a matter of time before one of those things saw me, and noticed I wasn't one of them.

Off in the distance I could see a man standing in the middle of the road. He had muscles on his muscles, with huge arms and a short neck.

Coach Mayweather? No. Coach Mayweather's skins.

He had been the coach for my old high school since forever. Rumors escalated about finding steroids in his desk, and he got fired. He could then be seen at the gym everyday. His muscles got even bigger. This guy was more robust than Mayweather though. I wondered how much the skin stretched against this killer's own flesh.

He growled, licking his lips like a rabid animal.

I grabbed the rifle, and looked straight down the scope. My first shot missed. The unexpected kickback was to blame, and it flew past his shoulder. He started to run towards me, a wide grin spread out across his face.

My palms grew sweaty, making it no easy feat to keep a good hold onto the rifle. I bolted to my left, looking for some cover. The thing donning Mayweather's skins caught up, like a cheetah to its prey. He grabbed the rifle from my hand and pushed me backwards with so much force I almost broke my tailbone. The cold metal barrel of the gun grazed one side of my face, then smashed against the other. The butt end of the weapon connected with my skull, sending me through a realm of complete darkness.

When I woke, I was surprised to still be alive. I tried to move, but my body was tied to a wooden pallet. Both the guns I had were gone, but I could still feel the blade cutting at my flesh as it remained hidden. I squirmed my body up then down, an attempt to slide the knife from under my bra. I heard the thumping of footfalls echoing, making their way closer.

I needed to come up with a plan, and fast.

I continued to squirm around, but with no progress. I stayed bound down to the pallet, and the blade didn't move. I had a quick reminder of this morning, when i woke trapped in my blankets. Definitely a preference at this moment in time. The knife started to dig deeper into my side. I could feel the dampness of blood, as my skin started to tear open.

A door swung, and the Mayweather imposter walked in. A scalpel in one hand, bone saw in the other. Behind him followed a young girl, about my age and build. Tall, with a round butt and flat chest and an athletic stomach.

The girl stared back at me, and made her way towards me. She smelled like a mixture of wet dog, and spoiled milk. The skin covering her body looked chapped, as parts of it were peeling away. Her face and chest was covered in gashes, exposing grimy skin underneath.

“Thanks, father. She's perfect. She would look so nice on me," she said in a haughty gurgle.

The girl started to giggle, but this was not a child's innocent giggle. There was a sadistic darkness behind it. Her father handed her the scalpel.

Slowly the cold instrument grazed up my legs towards my inner thighs. She took the device and lodged it deep into my femur. The pain jolted out immediately. She started to cut down.

I screamed.

She smiled.

Blood oozed out, and covered her hands. She placed a hand in front of her mouth, then sucked on it.

“Too bad, you taste so sweet,” she said.

I almost felt like giving up, but then I started to think of my mother. I started to think of my family, of sweet little Ian.

I spat in her face, and gave her a death stare. She slapped me, and it made my face go numb. Her eyes almost popped out of her head as she grabbed me by the collar. She started to shake me, making the ropes loose. I rolled over and grabbed the combat knife, stabbing her two times in the kidneys. She fell to the ground, and her face almost looked like a vintage porcelain that had been dropped and started to crack open. I was about to kick her when her father grabbed onto me in a chokehold.

I stabbed him in the left eye, then the left ear. His grasp loosened and I tumbled to the floor. I gasped for air, as he lifted his foot. The kick missed, as I rolled under his leg. His senses appeared weakened as he didn't notice me behind him. I took the blade up, and reached around his neck lodging it upwards. He tried to pull it out as he gurgled and spewed blood.

I grabbed onto the table to catch some breath, and to stop my head from spinning. Slowly I crept towards Mr.Mayweather and pulled off his pants. I tore at the cloth and tied it around the gash on my thigh.

The rifle and handgun sat on top of the table stained with blood.

I grabbed the weapons, and saw a jerry can in the corner of the room. Perfect.

I poured gasoline over the two dead bodies, then made a line towards the door. I continued to pour the liquid as I looked for a way out. A woman screamed behind me, with two adolescent teens following behind her. I ignored her wails and kept going.

The woman's screams got louder, and a lanky man blocked my path. His efforts were useless though, as I pushed him over and his outer skin fit poorly making him stumble over a loose patch of ankle. I kept going. I saw a set of stairs going up.

I was in an abandoned farm house with a dilapidated floor and roof. Some of the furniture still remained, full of dust and grime.

The front door, I made it just as another woman, this one looking like our mail carrier Dawna tried to grab me. I kicked her with my good leg as I held onto the doorframe. I drenched her with gasoline. I threw a match from my pocket. Luckily I had a box left over from last time I went camping   over her, and watched the flames rise from her chest. The heat felt refreshing almost.

I ran up towards the trees a bit, then turned around. I watched in glory as orange and red started to lick the sky. That didn't take long. I wondered how many of them were in there? How many more were not? I sat down, and watched the house as it burned to the ground, and I couldn't help but laugh like a maniac.

If my estimations were correct the harbor would now be more south, but a mile closer. I kept walking, fear no longer found a place in my soul. I was ready to fight. I heard someone move in the bushes, and shot him straight in the head. I had become unstoppable.

I reached my destination, but it was already too late. Body parts scattered over the ground, like an Unarranged puzzle. A skull cracked from under my feet as I walked through a field of utter mayhem.

I grabbed a boat that was docked. I pulled the cord once, and once again and its engine started to purr. I rode on down the river and never looked back.