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Dovecraft High: Home of the Orcas (AND AN UNDEAD AXE MURDERER) Part III

22 Jun

So it’s been a while since I updated this story. Need a refresher? Here are the links to the first two parts of the story. I will try to be more timely with the next part of the story. I promise!

Previously on Dovecraft High: Home of the Orcas (AND AN UNDEAD AXE MURDERER)

Part I

https://thecasaofelhanlo.wordpress.com/2013/10/21/dovecraft-high-home-of-the-orcas-and-an-undead-axe-murderer-part-i/

Part II

https://thecasaofelhanlo.wordpress.com/2013/11/16/dovecraft-high-home-of-the-orcas-and-an-undead-axe-murderer-part-ii/

*

 

I turned around to see Darnelle coming towards the door with a stool. He wedged the stool against the door at an angle, creating a pitiful attempt at a barricade.

“Is…is that supposed to stop him?” I asked, weakly.

“You got something better?” Darnelle shot back defensively.

“How about that massive, wooden, reinforced bookshelf right next to the door?” I asked, pointing to the massive, wooden, reinforced shelf right next to the door. It had some bottles of chemicals on the shelves and a few brushes but it was otherwise pretty bare and it looked like we could handle pushing it in front of the door.

“Well. Shit,” Darnelle said, apparently noticing the bookshelf for the first time.

We got around to the side of the bookshelf and pushed it, hearing it creak with protest as it slid along the cement floor. Some wood splintered off of it, but we got it in front of the door after a few hard pushes. After we got done situating our makeshift barricade, we gave each other a high five, as if we felt that a bookshelf was going to stop Sackface and we would be okay if we just stayed inside the brick house for the rest of our lives.

“Whatch ya’ll doin’?” a voice from behind us asked.

Darnelle and I jumped into each other arms (again) and turned to see the voice belonged to Wyatt. He was sitting at the table, his half finished dinner in front of him. He had apparently been watching us the entire time.

Darnelle released himself from me my grasp and said to me, “Man, you gotta stop doing that shit.”

“I think YOU were the one who jumped,” I reasoned, “I simply caught you out of self defense.”

Wyatt smiled and said, “Ya’ll some of those gays? It’s okay, I got no problem with that. Just because I’m from the South don’t mean I think two men can’t love each other.”

“Good to know,” I said with a nod.

“Just don’t do it around me no more,” he continued, still grinning.

“Okay.”

“Because that’s where I draw the line, friends. I don’t want none of that gay floating over here to old Wyatt Doone. That dog ain’t gonna hunt!”

“I will…I will keep that in mind,” I said.

“Good!” Wyatt said cheerfully, sticking a large forkful of chicken into his mouth, “now whatch ya’ll doing moving that there bookshelf?”
Darnelle and I looked at each other, our eyes offering/pleading the other to explain to Wyatt what the fucking Christ we just witnessed.

“Uh,” I began, “there’s this thing…”

“Yeah,” Darnelle agreed, “a thing.”

“Definitely a thing…” I repeated, stalling so that I could give my brain time to figure out a way to phrase “axe”, “murder”, and “gigantic dick” without sounding crazy.

Wyatt just cheerfully waited as we stammered and stuttered our way through explaining the Sackface events. Finally, we began to string together coherent sentences.

“There is this huge monster out there!” I said quickly.

“With a huge motherfucking axe!” Darnelle said.

“And he killed Oswald!”

“And he chased us and we fell and that’s where the blood is from!”

“And we tried to leave, but the door was chained shut!”

“And he has a huge cock!” I suddenly blurted out.

“You noticed that too?” Darnelle asked.

“It was hard not to.”

“Good,” he said, nodding, “I thought it was just me.”

“A monster, huh!” Wyatt said, yanking us along with a playful smile on his face.

I could tell Wyatt wasn’t buying it. And why should he? How many times does a coworker bust into the break room, shout about an axe murdering monster with a huge dick chasing after him and it turns out that it was all a lie? It’s old hat.

We heard a door open on the other side of the brick house. Darnelle and I looked at each other. In all the excitement, we had forgotten about the rear door, which was hidden from our view by a short hallway leading to the outside. From the hallway walked in Charles, who was looking at his smart phone. He stopped, looked at the blood on me and Darnelle and said mournfully, “Cleaning a girl’s bathroom, huh?”

“Not this time,” Wyatt said all too quickly, “turns out these young’ns were busy being chased by a monster! He had an axe! And he killed Oswald!”

“Isn’t that something,” Charles said, not wanting to play along with Wyatt’s joke, “so I was thinking of getting Chinese food. Anybody wanna come?”

Frustrated by Wyatt’s jokes and Charles’s indifference, I stamped my foot and said, “God dammit, this is real! Do you think this is fake blood!”

Wyatt laughed with a snort and said, “Son, if every time a custodian walked in with a little blood stain it meant some giant dick axe monster was around, there’d be more giant dick axe monsters to shake your tail at.”

“This is a little blood stain?” I said, clapping my hand against the damp blood on my shirt, causing it to splash onto the cement.

“Fuck ’em,” Darnelle said, “we need to barricade the rear door.”

Darnelle headed for the back hallway and I followed, looking around for another book shelf or for some other barricade friendly object.

“So, I guess that’s a no on the Chinese, then,” Charles said, “just let me leave before you block the door.”

“Wait, Darnelle,” I said, holding him back as he reached for another stool, showing that he clearly didn’t grasp the concept of how large a barricade should be, “let’s go with Charles. We didn’t even check the parking lot gate. We were too busy running.”

The parking lot gate was the gate that barred off the parking lot from the street and was an automated gate that slid open when you presented your ID card to a scanner.

“You think that’s going to be open? Really?” Darnelle said, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed. Darnelle was right. If Sackface or whatever dark force that chained the front door wanted us to stay on school grounds, he certainly wouldn’t have conveniently forgotten the parking lot gate.

“Won’t hurt checking,” I said.

“You kids have such dandy imaginations,” Wyatt said, “it’s great to see ya’ll having so much fun.”

Wyatt seemed to genuinely think that we were playing some sort of game of make believe. I ignored him as Darnelle and I followed Charles out of the brick house and into the October night. As we got outside, I realized I was tip toeing, as if Sackface were nearby and I was afraid he would hear me. We headed towards the parking lot portion of Cancer Court and Charles led us to his car, which was a nondescript white van with no windows that screamed, “Why is the person driving me allowed to work at a school?”

Charles slid the door open and mumbled, “Get in.” Darnelle and I got in and noticed there were no seats in the back. Just a bare floor in the back of a van. I was wondering about what kind of guy Charles was and that maybe I shouldn’t just take my chances with Sackface.

“Hey, man, there’s no seats back here,” Darnelle said, inspecting the wall as if there would be some sort of hidden panel that would make some seats appear, “mind if one of us takes shotgun.”

“I’d rather you guys not,” Charles said.

“Uh. Okay.”

Darnelle and I hesitantly got into the van and crouched. I was going to close the door but noticed there was no handle on the inside.

“Let me close that for ya,” Charles said, sliding the door closed.

“How nice of you,” I said.

Darnelle nudged me and said, “We just gotta deal with it, he’s our ride outta here.”

“We could just, you know, walk to the gate.”

“Good one,” Darnelle said with a genuine laugh.

Charles got into the driver’s seat, buckled up and started the car. He lurched the van out of the parking spot and drove towards the gate which was on the other side of the parking lot. I hung onto the back of the (empty) passenger seat as Darnelle clumsily held onto Charles’ seat. Charles hummed a tune, oblivious of our discomfort.

As we rumbled towards the gate, I prayed that it would slide open and that we would drive out unharmed. The gate that led out of the parking lot was connected in between two very high and steep walls that surrounded the whole lot and the gym building. This makes the school sound like a prison, and that’s because it totally is like a prison. A few years before I went to Dovecraft, there was an epidemic of vandalism and break ins which prompted the construction of the castle like walls.

So, in short, if the gate was barred or not working due to some sort of sabotage from Sackface, we would have to look elsewhere on the school grounds for an escape route. I tried to be optimistic though, and figured that we wouldn’t have to worry about another escape route because the gate would work just fine. I was then confronted with the consequences of leaving the rest of the janitors behind. I felt a pang of guilt, thinking about how Darnelle, Charles and I would be out of the school, away from Sackface while the others would be left behind, probably to be murdered off, systematically, one by one. I decided I would call the cops and alert them of the problem, though I wasn’t sure how I was going to persuade the authorities that, yes, I had just seen a monster with an axe and a huge dong and, no, I wasn’t on peyote.

As we neared the gate I was happy to see that it was unharmed. No rusty chains, no pile of beheaded janitor carcasses blockading our way. I gave a sigh of relief. We rolled up so to the card scanner and Charles reached out his card. The scanner gave a loud beep.

Then, instead of the sliding open, the gate burst into flames.

Charles gave an impatient sigh as the orange fire glowed into the van. “This thing never works,” he said with an air of annoyance.

“Fuck,” Darnelle started.

“This,” I finished.

“Let’s hope there’s something in the fridge for me back in the brick house,” Charles said, setting the van in reverse.

“DO YOU NOT NOTICE THE GOD DAMNED FIRE,” I shouted at Charles.

Charles shrugged.

“Must be a glitch with the scanner,” he reasoned.

“A GLITCH? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TECHNOLOGY WORKS.”

Charles started to back up when a loud thump sounded from the top of the van. My head snapped up and I saw a large indentation above Darnelle and I. Maybe I was paranoid, but the indentation looked very much like it was in the shape of two large axe murderer’s feet.

Charles stopped the van and looked behind at us.

“What did you guys do?” he asked, showing frustration in his voice for the first time all night.

“We didn’t do shit,” Darnelle snapped, “something’s on the roof, man!”

“I swear, you boys better not be screwing around with anything back there.”

“So an iron gate catches on fire and you don’t bat an eyelash,” I said, “but you just can’t stand the thought of someone making a mess in your Rape Wagon.”

Charles stammered, obviously flustered.

“Rape Wagon!” he blurted, “may God strike me dead if this wagon is used for anything other than getting me around town.”

As the last word left his mouth, a large axe swung through the front window and lodged itself in Charles’ skull. A splash of blood flew back and speckled my face. Darnelle and I gave loud, high pitched screams as Charles head was jerked around, the axe trying to dislodge itself out of his skull. With a sickening crunch, Charles’ head gave a hard snap to the side and the axe found itself free. It slowly slithered up and out of the broken window as Darnelle and I still continued to scream. I dunno how we managed to hold the screams for that long. I for one should probably consider a future in a hair metal band.

The axe disappeared from view but it was quickly replaced by Sackface, who jumped off the roof and onto the hood of the van. I hate to focus on his dick again, but the damn thing was so big it was actually resting against the hood. It stared at us like a hungry snake, ready to swallow us whole after Sackface lobbed off our heads.

“FUCK, FUCK, WHAT DO WE DO?” I yelled, finally ending my minute long scream.

Darnelle, however, didn’t end his scream and stared wide eyed in terror at Sackface.

I went over the side door of the van, only to remember that Charles had insisted on buying a van without an indoor handle. I clawed at the spot where a handle should have been, hoping that maybe it was just made of the same material that Wonder Woman’s invisible jet was made of.

Darnelle’s blood curdling wail continued as Sackface started to crouch and lean in, obviously trying to get into the van with us. His schlong scraped along the hood, leaving a long dent in its wake.

So this was it. Killed by a gigantic, axe wielding monster in the back of some rape van. I would love to see if there was a tarot card for that kind of fate.

Sackface finally fit himself in through the window, but he was too big to stand up, so he awkwardly crouched and waddled towards us, he was almost free of the window frame and in between the two front seats when a loud honking sound issued from behind us, getting louder and louder until

BANG.

That “BANG” is supposed to represent the sound of another car crashing into Charles’ rape van, in case you didn’t pick that up. Darnelle and I were thrown forward as the van twirled around from the impact of the crash. Sackface lost his footing and teetered out of the window. He slid off the hood, his axe clinking down beside him.

I had collided with the passenger seat, leaving me badly bruised but otherwise fine. I looked up through the front window and saw the van was now facing back towards Cancer Court. At that time, it was a long macadam stretch that promised freedom and a future where my body was not sliced in half by a large battleaxe.

Realizing we didn’t have much time before Sackface got himself back up and returned to trying to disembowel us, I stood up, wincing in pain.

“Darnelle,” I croaked, turning to look where he had gotten to. He had flown through the gap between the driver and the passenger seat, and had apparently hit the dashboard. Unfortunately, for him, this was a much harder landing destination than the cushioned back of a leather passenger seat. Worse, it looked like he had banged his head, a large bruise and trickle of blood having appeared on his forehead. His eyes were closed, which meant he had either been knocked out or had chosen the worst possible time for a nap. I’m not doctor, but I figured it was the former.

“Darnelle,” I repeated, clambering towards him and slapping his face a few times. This works, right? I thought, trying to block out the fact that the only place I had seen this work was in movies and Looney Toon cartoons.

I was looking around for a pail of water to throw on him, because that totally works too, right, when Darnelle started to stir.

“Mother fucker…” I heard him whisper, as he shifted around, raising a hand to his bloodied forehead.

But he wasn’t the only person/thing coming to his/its senses. I looked out the window and to the side of the van where Sackface lay on his back, his huge frame creaking back to life. He sat upright and growled.

“Okay, Darnelle, okay,” I said, patting him on the cheeks, “time to recover from your concussion a bit faster, giant monster outside.”

Darnelle drowsily swatted my hand away and said, “Damn, man, stop that. Fucking hurts. What you think this is, god damned Bugs Bunny?”

Sackface was now getting to his feet and reaching for his axe, which was discarded a mere few feet away.

“Darnelle, seriously, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO LEAVE YOU HERE BUT I FUCKING WILL.”

Darnelle shook the cobwebs out of his head and sat up himself, with some clumsily rushed assistance on my part.

“Hurry,” I pleaded, trying to get him to stand up.

“Zack. Man, chill the fuck out, my head is spinning.”

“WELL AT LEAST IT’S ON YOUR NECK, WHICH IT WON’T BE IF YOU DON’T HURRY. THE. GOD DAMNED FUCK UP.”

Darnelle finally got to his feet and turned to climb through the window but it was too late. Sackface was armed with his axe and staring right at us. We couldn’t see his eyes, because they were hidden by the sack, but I imagined that they looked pissed.

I didn’t know if we were going to be able to sprint out of the van and past him in time, but luckily we weren’t going to have to find out. The magical sound of the horn from our savior car blared into the air again and was partnered with the screech and smell of burning rubber. Both sounds grew in intensity as the car appeared into view from the left and smashed straight into Sackface.

The car’s front was already badly damaged from the crash with the van, its left headlight shattered and the front bumper barely clinging on. The crash with Sackface didn’t help matters, as the bumper practically exploded into plastic shards and the other headlight burst into pieces. The car didn’t have enough momentum to smash Sackface forward, however, so it merely ramped on top of him and got stuck with him lodged squarely underneath its front.

I looked in the front window of the car to see who our guardian angel was and shockingly saw it was Lauren, the lone female custodian at the school.

“Hello there kids,” she shouted over the sound of her tires peeling against the macadam as she tried to completely drive over Sackface, “looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle!”

I wanted to yell thanks for saving our lives and to tell her to get the hell back to the brickhouse but all I could muster was a simple

“What.”

“Shit, man, it’s Lauren. What’s she up to?” Darnelle asked, clearly still a little fuzzy from the concussion.

“Come on, we’ll find out later,” I said, picking him up and hoisting him out of Charles’ van. We had to step past Charles’ corpse, which was about as unnerving as you’d expect. We stepped onto the hood and tumbled down to the macadam.

I looked over to Lauren to see her progress, but she was still stuck in place with Sackface beneath her. Sackface squirmed a bit as he tried to get his axe free from under Lauren’s car, and he managed to get it raised up and over the hood. He then brought it down sharply onto Lauren’s hood, creating a brief spark as it cleaved the metal in two.

Lauren’s car jumped a bit and she gave a slightly worried, “Oh dear.”

“Lauren! Get out of there!” I yelled.

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” she said, “just head on back with the rest of the crew and I’ll join you two in a jiffy.

Sackface raised his axe again and brought it down even further into the car’s hood, causing the car to chug and sputter as smoke poured out from the hood. I wanted to do something to help her but realized that the only thing that probably could help her was a bazooka, which, surprisingly, I didn’t have at the time.

“Let’s go,” I told Darnelle, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the brickhouse. We started to sprint and I heard Sackface’s axe slice into Lauren’s car for a third time. I forced myself to not look back because I knew it would only slow me down.

Within half a minute, we at the door of the brickhouse. I looked back to see that Sackface had dislodged himself from undereath the car and was now towering over Lauren and her car. Sackface raised the axe up high and-

Darnelle grabbed me and threw me through the now open door of the brickhouse. The door slammed close just as Sackface’s axe began to arc down towards its target.

 

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Posted by on June 22, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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