You and your best friend were camping out in the woods in Griffith Park, slightly east of the Hollywood Hills, to have some guy time before you start your next tour over seas. Your friend left some time ago to find cell service, but he hasn’t been back in an hour and a half. You start to get worried, put on your sneakers, and go to look for him. It’s pretty dark, so you go to use your phone’s flashlight, but it’s dead, probably from roaming for too long.
You try calling out for him, but you hear rustling in the foliage from a distance behind you. It’s close to 30 feet away, but you can see the outline of a person out of the corner of your eye. You try to see if it’s your friend, but he wouldn’t get on all fours and chase you like a track sprinter. It must be someone else. Who could it be and why are they following you? You look back. The man is gaining on you. It’s hard to see who it is, but you think you recognize him.
You start trying to remember what direction your car is, but since you can’t see much in the moonlight, and all the trees look the same, you have no idea which way to go. While running for your life, you give up on trying to find your way, and just try to put as much distance between you and this psycho that’s chasing you. You can hear that he’s really close behind you. When you turn around, you can see that, not only is he covered in blood, he’s got a knife. And a cap that looks a lot like the one your friend was wearing. and that most of the blood on him is on the front of his shirt. And chin. There’s a lot of blood on his chin and mouth.
You take a very sharp turn into an area that is thick with trees, and you can’t hear the guy anymore. Just to be safe, you keep running, but you allow yourself to think. That was a lot of blood, and you don’t think it’s the guy’s. How did he have the same hat as your friend? It’s not from anywhere around here. You try to think about something else. Ignoring all the blood on his chin and shirt, he looks a lot like that guy from Even Stevens, whatever his name is. You never liked that tv show much anyway.
You’re certain you lost him following you, but since you now have absolutely no idea at all where you are, you slow down to a walk to catch your breath. You creep along, silently, afraid that the guy will come back and murder you. Gradually, you can see more of the debris on the forest floor. That means light! But from where? At this point, it doesn’t matter. You walk toward it. It’s coming from the window of a small cottage. It smells like a cook out. Your stomach makes a noise. Hopefully, the people inside can hide you, or at least let you call for help.
You’re about to enter the clearing that acts as the front lawn of the cottage, but your plan is foiled by the metal trap you just stepped on. You desperately want to yell, but knowing that that would bring the guy really quickly to you without the possibility of escaping, you do the only possible solution you see. You have to get your leg out of the trap. You take off your shoe and sock, but it doesn't help much. There aren’t any branches around you that are strong enough to pry it open, but there’s a rock that’s just as wide as your ankle is. You stick the rock in, but you still have to get your foot out. You see no other choice than to damage the surrounding tissue enough to pull the rest of your foot out. Your adrenaline dulls your pain and keeps decision making to survival tactics. You know that people can live perfectly normal lives with amputated feet, so you decide that that’s what you have to do. Using the only tool around you possible, you bend over and start gnawing at the flesh above your ankle.
When thinking back, you don’t know how you did it, but your foot is out of the trap, gushing blood, and you can’t put your weight on it. Most of your heel and the top of your foot are laying next to you in chunks. Now that you can move, you look for a stick to make a tourniquet. You wrap your ankle with your sock and tighten it with the stick until the bleeding stops. Adrenaline will numb the pain eventually, but the safety you'll find inside the cottage is more important than your discomfort. You find a branch tall enough to use as a walking stick, and make your way to the porch.
The front door is just slightly open, and there's blood on the handle. You know that that doesn't seem right, so you silently open the door and hobble inside with your wooden crutch. A man is sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, with his back turned towards you. You can tell, by what you are sure is your friend's hat, that it's the guy. His knife is on the end table next to his chair, but he's sharpening an ax, which is worse. To your right, there is a wall covered in bloody tools over a workbench soaked with the red liquid. Red means that it's fresh. There's also a wad of red fabric. You limp over to the table to look closer at it. It' a bandana for the Cincinnati Bengals. The same one you laughed at him for bringing on the camping trip. Next to it are a set of silverware. You finally understand what's going on here. All the blood here and on the guy’s clothes and mouth. This guy ate your friend. He murdered and ate the person who was best man at your wedding.
You mourn for your lost friend by doing the only thing your rage filled mind can think of: killing the psycho who did this. You sneak up behind him and use your walking stick to strangle the man. It’s working well until he swings the ax toward your head. When you stagger back to dodge it, you let go of one side of the branch. He gets up from the chair, leaving the ax where it is to fight with the knife he grabs from the end table. He comes charging at you, but you haven’t gained your balance back completely, so when you move out of the way of the blade, he knocks you over and falls on top of you. You do your best to keep him from stabbing you, and during the fight, the stick holding the tourniquet together breaks, and the sock loosens. You use your walking stick to hit the man’s head. He falls over dazed, almost unconscious. There is no way you’ll let him live after killing the man you treated like a brother. You take the knife from the guy and stab him in the stomach. Now that he’s dead, you decide to take the ax with you, along with your walking stick and the knife.
You get out the front door and limp out into the clearing. You think you’re in the clear, but you hear a gun cocking next to your ear. You slowly turn and see that it’s him. The guy survived, and in his eyes, you know he wants you dead. As soon as you realize that your life is in real danger, your military training kicks in. You body slam him to knock him down, then you knock the gun far enough away that neither of you could get to it quickly. You use the ax to try and hit him, but he grabs the walking stick and uses it as a bowstaff to defend himself. Your jiu jitsu training really helps in this case, but you’ve never tried fighting someone with blood dripping from the foot you gnawed on. Your adrenaline, rage, and fear have you go on the offensive, but he keeps dodging and blocking. When he parries to the left, you quickly counter right. He’s not expecting it, and you are able to hit him in the neck. The ax cuts straight through. Blood splatters everywhere. It’s warm, sticky, and gross. His head lays on the ground in front of you. Staring at it, you fall to your knees, reeling. You just killed someone. Not only that, you decapitated him. In the shadowy light coming from the cottage, you can see his face. You finally know who it is that was chasing you. You are finally safe from Shia LaBeouf.