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It starts with Ted being put in solitary confinement.
Well, actually, no. It doesn’t.
It starts with the broken shower stalls in the boy’s bathroom.
Nothing had really happened—Mark had still been in his underwear because of some bullshit camp policy and Ted had only just pulled off his shirt, standing in the doorway to the shower. They were only really sharing because the other two stalls were broken.
And, sure, they’d kissed earlier that day, hidden in the bushes on that long ass hike. Ted wasn’t sure what it meant, and sure he wouldn’t have minded if they got a little further in the shower, but really nothing happened. He saw Mark Chasity in his underwear. Which, sure, had sent his head spinning in fifty directions, but can you blame a guy for having thoughts when he had that right in front of his eyes?
Well, apparently Jerry can.
“I oughta cover you in milk!” he says, dragging Ted by the arm towards a tiny run down shed. A small, rusted lock clings to the door. “I oughta put you in a blender and turn you into a banana milkshake!”
Ted stumbles to his knees, Jerry pushing him into the tiny shack harder than needed.
“We didn’t even do anything!” he complains, double checking his stock he’d stuffed into his shorts before they left was still there. Bingo. “We weren’t even naked!”
His arguments fall on deaf ears, and Jerry slams the door closed, locking it with a harsh click. The only light emits from the small cracks between the planks constructing the shitty structure. Still, just enough.
Ted can’t help but wonder whether Jerry had reacted so strongly because they were about to share a shower stall—or if it was because they were both dudes. Maybe both.
He’s not gay. By the way, just in case that’s what you were thinking. Sure, Ted thinks guys are hot. But, that’s like, common thought. Hasn’t everyone put up a poster of Tom Cruise on their wall?
Anyway, really Ted’s goal for the summer had been to stop being a virgin. He was eighteen now. Aka, running out of time to be cool in high school. So what if it was Mark ‘Mayor of Dorkus City’ Chasity that he did it with? So what if Ted was super pissed Jerry had cut them short?
Chasity was a decent kisser. Gentle—yet rigid and strong. He’d pulled Ted’s hand away before they got far, but he felt his defined abdomen beneath the Virginity Rocks shirt. There was no mistaking that.
Ted whips out his contraband from his back pocket with a grin, shifting it so it fits in the light. A porn mag. He’d buried it at the very bottom of his bag before he got here, keeping it stuffed under his mattress. That was the only reason he’d conceded to let Mark take the top bunk.
“You’ve got game, Spankoffski,” he mutters to himself, flicking to his favorite page. Might as well make this fun for himself if he’s gonna be stuck here a while, eh?
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Before Ted can even unzip the fly of his shorts the door rattles, and the lock falls from the door. And, look, the Axe Man isn’t real. He just isn’t. No matter what Jerry, or Mr. Metzger, or even Karen Meyer claim. But—well, who else could that be?
“Ted?” It’s Mark, inching the door open. “You in here?”
Ted jumps to his feet, leaving the porn mag on the floor and hurrying out before Mark gets any ideas of what he might have been about to do. “Freedom!” he yells, spreading his arms out.
Mark lunges at him, slapping a hand over his mouth and shushing him. “Shut up, idiot!” He glances around, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I think Karen is in trouble.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“She’s not—”
“Not your girlfriend,” Ted finishes with an eye roll, “I know. Anyway, what’s up with Karen?”
“Jerry was—he was acting all crazy. Raving about the Axe Man coming for her. And I know you said he isn’t real but—”
“But?”
Mark hesitates, clenching his arms by his side. “But I’m worried Jerry might do something. Karen’s my best friend, Teddy. I can’t let him hurt her.”
And fuck. If Mark could tone it down with the puppy dog eyes that would be great. All watery and big and cute. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.
“Fine,” Ted sighs, “what do you want to do?”
He smiles, grabbing Ted’s arm tight in relief already dragging him towards the Witchwoods. Fuck. This really couldn’t get any worse, could it? “I saw Karen and Jeri—Jeri Conan that is—heading off into the woods just after we got… caught.” Mark marches the two of them through the bramble, Ted barely managing to keep up with his pace. “Jerry followed them not long after—and he had the wood cutting hatchet in hand.”
“You mean the axe?”
“...it’s a hatchet, Ted.”
“But he’s the Axe Man.”
“Ted,” Mark sighs, shaking his head, “if they think the Axe Man is real, why would they keep a God Forsaken axe at camp?”
Huh…
“Good point.”
They follow a series of broken twigs and light footprints in the mud, Mark keeping his grip on Ted’s arm tight enough to cut off circulation. He wonders whether it's from fear or worry that Ted won’t keep up if he lets go. Which… is a fair assessment. The deeper they get, the more concerned he is that they won’t be able to find there way out.”
“Mark…”
“Shh!” Mark holds up his hand, eyes darting across the woods. “Did you hear that?”
Ted leans, listening out. “No?”
“Shh!”
Creak.
Creak.
Shink.
“What…” Ted looks to Mark, then turns to the source of the noise. “What is that?”
“Look out—”
Whoosh.
Ted lands on his front from Mark shoving him in the back, face first in the dirt, and the woods rattles with a thud. He rolls over, only to see a whole fucking tree laying across the floor. There, with a crazed look in his eyes and an axe—no, hatchet—in hand, is Jerry.
And Mark—
Fuck.
Where’s Mark?
The tree.
“Mark!” Ted hurries to his feet, but he can’t even approach the tree to check if Mark got hit by it when Jerry lunges for him.
“Not so fast you little perv!” he yells, “I’ve got you now.”
Fuuuuck.
With just a second to decide, Ted spins on his heels and sprints. It’s times like this that Ted wishes he’d persisted on the track team instead of quitting after two weeks in Freshman year. Still, he persists, putting as much distance between Jerry and himself as he can. Though, the whole time Jerry’s manic footsteps stay close behind, and Ted’s heart beats up into his throat.
“Fuck!” A track runner, however, he is not. A stray root catches his boot and he lets out a yell as he falls, landing on his hands and knees. The footsteps approach quicker and louder behind him, and Ted crawls forward. He rolls over, pressing himself hard against the tree just up ahead, Jerry now right in front of him. The bark digs into his back right through the fabric of his Virginity Rocks shirt, his arms trembling beside him.
“I told you, Spankoffski ,” Jerry says, crazed now, hatchet gripped by both hands. His hair is a mess, face covered in dirt and clothes torn. He huffs out a breath, red in the face and his eyes wide. “I told you—if you had just listened!”
“Come on, Jerry!” he yells, holding up his shaking hands. “It was just— I didn’t think that—”
“He doesn’t like it, Teddy.” His eyes flit up to the sky, and he shakes his head, baring his teeth in an odd mix of a grin and grimace. “We can’t make him angry. This is what happened when he…” His voice trails off, all the running getting to him now.
“Who?” Ted spits out, his eyes darting around for help. There’s nothing but acres and acres of empty woods. Not even a rock he could lob at this freak. “Who’s angry, Jerry?”
“Him. He’s angry.”
“God?”
A scoff comes from Jerry, and he releases one of his hands from the hatchet, pushing his hair back and out of his face. “God? No,” he shakes his head, mutters something quick and quiet under his breath. “No. No, not Him. Him. The…”
“Who?” Ted yells, his fingers sink into the mud, tears in his eyes.
There’s no time to answer. A blur dashes in front of them, tackling Jerry to the ground. He lands on his back with a grunt, and there atop him, wrestling for the hatchet, is Mark. Mark motherfucking Chasity. Back from the motherfucking, god fucking, Mayor of Dorkus City, dead. Ted could cry tears of joy. Not just because he’s alive, but also because he’s here saving Ted.
They struggle, Jerry yanking at Mark’s hair and Mark jolting his elbow into Jerry’s side. In the end Mark wins out—of course he did, he’s got more muscle under those prudey clothes than most would know—yanking the hatchet with a grunt and scrambling to his feet. And… Well, he’s quite the sight.
His hair tousled, the usually neat and slicked back locks a mess on his head, brushing against his forehead. There’s a crack in the right lens, spiraling out from the center and fracturing his eye into a dozen duplicates. It must have happened when he’d been trapped under that tree, and that likely explains the state of his clothes too.
The khaki shorts are dirty and torn, and his virginity rocks shirt has seen better days. It’s cut, jagged and rushes, across his midsection from where the tree hand landed on him. Now resembling a crop-top than an average shirt—his abdomen entirely exposed, the fabric brushing against his pecs.
Mark’s chest heaves with each breath as he steps forward, towering over Jerry with the hatchet tight in his shaking hands. Not shaking from fear—no, shaking from the pure strength in his arms.
“Why?” he asks, and he presses his foot to Jerry’s chest, keeping him pinned down. “Why did you do all of this?”
Jerry’s not even looking at Mark. Pure terror is spread across his face, his eyes distant and hollow. “He’s going to get us… He’s going to kill us… Kill us—all of us. He doesn't like it. He doesn’t… He doesn’t like it.”
For the first time since he arrived Mark turns his head back to face Ted, a clear relief washing over his features. That makes Ted’s heart clench in his chest. Ted shrugs at the question in his eyes—he has no clue what Jerry is rambling about either. With that Mark turns back to Jerry and heaves the Hatchet above his head. There’s a split moment of hesitation, and Jerry’s eyes snap to Mark’s. Wide, hungry, and as he pushes to stand again, Mark doesn’t hesitate then.
Swoosh.
Squelch.
Crack.
The hatchet hacks into Jerry’s chest, and he stares down at the wound. He doesn’t even scream. His mouth opens, but no sound leaves his throat. Mark hauls the hatchet back— squelch —and back down a second time— crack. Its slices deep into Jerry’s cheek, a second splatter of blood flies. A flash of confusion, then horror, then— Crack. Once more Mark swings the hatchet back, over his shoulder, and then back down in one smooth movement. It cracks open Jerry’s skull, exposing his skull. His eyes roll back and his head slouches into the edge of the blade still stuck inside. Mark heaves it back out with a grunt and the boy’s body collapses back entirely. He swipes his hand along the deep crimson gathered across the dull blade of the hatchet, then adjusts his tilted glasses.
Blood covers his boots, now pooling around him from the split skull. Splattered across his chest—bright blue shirt and pale skin painted in gore. Up, across his neck and his cheeks in little drops—leaking down his fingers, and even smeared across the broken lens of his glasses. With a sigh Mark falls to his knees and sits back, holding the Hatchet to his side. Ted pushes himself off the tree and crawls towards him. Mark looks at him properly now, his brow furrowed in concern as he looks Ted up and down for injuries.
“Are you okay?”
Ted doesn’t answer his question. They’re both covered in dirt and blood and who knows how many injuries, but Ted couldn’t care less. As he looks up at Mark, he’s breathless, and he knows the adrenaline isn’t just from the fight that went down. Despite the dirt, and his torn clothes, and the cut across his hairline, and Jerry’s blood splattered across him, Mark has never looked prettier. Something inside Ted’s chest jolts, warmth dissipating across his skin.
He reaches forward and cradles Mark’s face in his hands, and yanks him forward. Their lips meet and Ted savors it as if it’s the end of the world—and it almost had been just five minutes ago. Ted keeps kissing him even when he loses his breath. Nothing can stop them now. He’s pretty sure he’s on top of the world, and after conquering death twice, Ted thinks it’s pretty fucking fair to feel like that.
Mark doesn’t pull away this time, no, he holds Ted closer. He smiles against Ted’s lips, his fingers sinking into Ted’s hair and pulling him closer. It’s everything Ted wants and needs right now. This is more than a kiss—it’s a promise. A promise that, after this, they won’t let anything stop them.
He tastes metallic—that twinge that must be the blood on his lips. Ted’s sure he doesn’t taste much better, probably of that mouthful of dirt he’d gotten after eating shit. Not that anything, even that, could make this any less than perfect.
With a sigh and the slight ache in his lungs, Ted pulls his lips back huffing in a breath but keeping Mark close. With a grin, Mark pulls him closer, hugging Ted to his chest.
“I thought I lost you,” Ted says against his shirt. “I thought—”
“I know,” Mark mumbles, pressing his forehead to the top of Ted’s head. “I made it. You made it. We… We’re okay.
“Yeah…” he says with a small nod. “Yeah, we fucking did it.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Mark notices the sound before Ted does, spinning himself around and positioning himself in front of Ted where they sit on the ground. In the distance is a figure—bigger and more imposing than anyone they saw at camp. Could it… No… Ted had dismissed the fact the Lumber Axe was real. It was Jerry and Mr. Metzger, wasn’t it? The ones killing kids for their own sick satisfaction. Right…
Except it’s hard to argue with what’s in front of you. The Witchwoods tremble, like a minor earthquake with each step the… thing takes.
“Mark…”
“I don’t know Teddy,” his voice trembles, and his hands inches towards the hatchet he’d let fall aside during their kiss. As his hand closes around the wood the footsteps stop, and Ted squeezes Mark’s shoulders, staring up at the fucking Axe Man.
“Mark.”
He turns his head, his eyes as wide as Ted’s as they stare up at this thing. It tilts its head, eyes narrowing in on the hatchet. As if scalded, Mark yanks his hand back, falling further back into Ted, who’s the only thing keeping him from falling onto his back.
The Axe Man crouches down and snatches the hatchet up from the ground—as if it belongs to him. It probably does. Is this the ‘him’ Jerry had been rambling about? He stares down at Mark and Ted, clearly not oblivious of what the two of them had just been doing.
Ted squeezes his eyes closed, holding Mark close. This is it. They had a long run; they kissed. Now their lives are over. He wonders if Mark will pray.
He doesn’t have to wonder much longer though.
Bang.
They both jump, their heads snapping towards the sound. There, just a few feet away, are Karen Meyer and Jeri Conan. Karen holds a shotgun in her hands, smoke billowing from the barrel, and Jeri stands behind her, holding onto the back of Karen’s shirt—her eyes fixed on the Axe Man.
“Stand down!” Jeri yells at the thing, now stepping out in front of Karen. The look Karen gives her is placated with a gentle touch to her forearm, and she takes another step towards the Axe Man. “You don’t have to keep doing this! It’s time to go home.”
Home?
“You’ve got this, honey,” Karen says, her voice far more gentle than Ted has ever heard since he first arrived. She gives Jeri a soft voice and a little smile, her brows set in a look of determination.
Jeri smiles back, but her eyes quickly flicker back to the Axe Man, and she takes another couple steps. She holds her hands out—less like approaching a dangerous animal, more like inviting for a hug. Ted watches, glances at Mark—he seems just as clueless.
“Come on, J,” she says, another couple of steps. “Come to… Come to mommy.”
Mommy?
Okay, Ted has no fucking idea what is going on here, but he thinks it’s probably best he keeps his mouth shut. It takes all his strength not to yell his confusion.
The Axe Man seems disarmed by that, his arms falling slack. The hatchet falls to the ground with a barely audible thud and he approaches Jeri. Ted winces, worried what the thing might do to the poor girl, but to his surprise it falls into her arms. Jeri cradles him, glancing back to Karen with a look of shock. As if she wasn’t sure the plan would work—but Karen seems unsurprised.
“I told you,” she says, moving back towards Jeri and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “All he needs is some love and reassurance. Like we all do.”
There’s a hidden meaning there, if anything about the look the pair share is to go by. It’s probably best Ted doesn’t look into it. Mark gets to his feet first, pulling Ted up with him and dragging him over to Karen and Jeri.
“Thanks guys,” he says with a small smile, another question in his eyes as he looks back and forth between the two. Karen doesn’t answer with her words, but she nods. Huh. Are they…? They must be like Ted and Mark. Whatever is it that Mark and Ted even are.
“Uh, yeah,” Ted says with a nod, picking a leaf off his shoulder, “thanks. You really saved our asses back there.”
The Axe Man grunts, and Ted jumps. The fucker is still scary, even cradled by Jeri like a little baby. Her… son. Apparently. Look, as intrigued as he is, Ted also really doesn’t wanna know how any of this happened. All he wants is to go home, maybe play some games… And maybe snag Mark’s phone number too, they’ve still got the rest of summer ahead of them.
“I think we should head back to camp,” Karen says, her voice as level and calm as always. Resourceful. “It’ll be easier to call for help there.”
“And how do we explain all of this mess?” Mark asks, looking down at himself, still covered in blood.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mark. I have a plan.”
