Free The Late Night Horror Show by Bryan Smith

not. Lacking any other obvious options, it was as good a place to start as any. She started toward the gap, but had taken no more than two steps when she heard the first heavy footfall directly behind her. The sound pinned her to the spot for a moment, making her heart race madly while she waited to hear the sound again, praying all the while it had only been her imagination the first time.
    But then she heard another heavy footfall. Closer now.
    And something else—the sound of heavy breathing. But it was a muffled sound, as if it was coming from behind a…mask?
    Her heart hammered even harder at the thought. And though the rational part of her brain knew the only sensible thing was to take off running right then and there, something more primal within her caused her to turn around and take a look at the person stalking her.
    A thing she recognized as a massive mistake an instant later. She screamed and staggered backward, nearly tripping over her feet as the soles of her shoes sank into the soft, yielding ground.
    The man standing perhaps six feet from her was tall and powerfully built, hugely muscular beneath dirty overalls and a sopping-wet flannel shirt. A bland white mask obscured his face.  
    The mask reminded her vaguely of those worn by killers in several horror movie franchises. The kind with sequels nearly numbering in the double digits. But this mask was really the kind worn by imitation killers in the even cheaper knockoffs of those more successful movies. While there was nothing distinctive or very noteworthy about it, it would subtly remind audiences of iconic horror villains, a subliminal marketing tactic that might bring in just enough suckers to help make back the film’s undoubtedly miniscule budget.
    This mask, in fact, looked very much like the mask worn by the killer in Chainsaw Maniac . She had seen images from the movie on the horror festival’s website while idly checking it out on Kira’s iPad. Even more disturbing, however, was the chainsaw gripped in the man’s huge, meaty hands.
    Though she was terrified beyond measure, Lashon couldn’t help voicing the question that sprang immediately to mind. “Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?”
    By way of an answer, the masked man yanked at the chainsaw’s starter cord and its blade instantly roared to full, buzzing life. The man raised the chainsaw over his head and squeezed something near its handle to push it to an even higher rev. Lashon’s immediate impression was that he looked very much like a man striking a deliberate pose.
    Like, say, an actor in a movie.
    A movie like Chainsaw Maniac , perhaps.
    Lashon felt for a moment like a person locked inside an especially disturbing dream. This was all just too weird to be real. But that feeling was a trap and she quickly recognized it as such. Every other piece of sensory input told her this was all absolutely real and that she was in danger of suffering a nasty, painful death within moments.
    The man revved the chainsaw as he began to advance on her. Lashon snapped out of her paralysis and began to stagger backward again, nearly tripping more than once. She knew she should turn and run right now, but the thought of turning her back on the chainsaw-wielding psycho was too terrifying. It was too easy to imagine that whirring blade sinking into the flesh between her shoulder blades once her back was to him. Please, God, she thought. I don’t want to die. Not today. Not ever.
    Please…
    The man moved closer still and the end of the nastily buzzing blade was perhaps a foot from her face when she glimpsed a flash of movement at the edge of her peripheral vision. Something big was rushing straight at the masked man, who appeared not to sense the oncoming threat. Maybe it was the noise of the chainsaw that made him oblivious. Maybe he was just fucking stupid. Lashon didn’t care. All that mattered was that someone was apparently coming to her rescue. In the last moment before impact, she