American Horror: Grind Edition Chapter 37 37: Freddy Starts Looking for Help

The next morning.

Glen woke first. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, feeling like he'd slept for an entire century.

The exhaustion and terror of the past few days were gone. His head felt crystal clear.

His stomach, however, felt uncomfortably full.

He looked down at his slightly swollen belly and frowned.

"Hey, you guys…"

The second he opened his mouth, a loud burp escaped him. Water almost sprayed out.

Nancy woke up too. She sat up with the exact sa confused-then-surprised expression.

"I… I didn't have any nightmares."

She touched her face. Her skin actually felt a little more elastic.

One by one the others woke up. The cabin filled with a chorus of burps.

"I feel like I could run ten laps right now."

"Sa. I just really need to pee."

"What the hell happened last night? I dread soone was holding underwater and pouring water down my throat."

The blond kid sounded shaken.

"You too? I thought it was just !"

They all started talking at once. Eventually every pair of eyes turned to the corner.

Luke leaned against the wall, calmly sipping from a bottle of mineral water.

He set the bottle down and explained with a straight face.

"You all looked half-dead. I was saving your lives."

Glen opened his mouth, stared at the half-empty cases of water stacked against the wall, then looked back at Luke's perfectly serious face. He had no words.

Saving lives… by waterboarding them?

The kids woke up too. They were in much better shape, though several of them clutched their sheets with guilty faces and slipped out quietly.

They'd drunk too much. They'd wet the bed.

Inside the blood-red boiler room.

"Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Goddamn it!"

Freddy slashed his claws across a tal pipe, venting his rage.

Last night had been the most frustrating night of his entire killing career.

The dreams of those kids and teenagers were like porcupines covered in spikes.

The second he tried to get close, he felt an invisible barrier wrapped around their souls. It made his skin crawl.

If he stayed too long, power kept flooding in, trying to force him out.

He'd worked all night and hadn't even gotten a single hair.

And that mama's boy Lionel? Complete humiliation.

The kid was like a rubber dummy—stab in, no resistance; pull out, no blood.

Zero satisfaction.

Freddy scratched at his burned scalp in frustration. He realized the new forest ranger was serious trouble.

The guy had used so trick Freddy didn't understand to protect the whole herd.

And from what he could sense, the man himself was a tough bastard. Going after him directly in the dream probably wouldn't end well.

He couldn't fight him head-on.

Freddy suddenly rembered where they were—Crystal Lake campground.

If he could drag Jason out of that lake, the two of them could make life hell for the ranger.

One in the dream, one in reality.

Even if the guy had six arms, he couldn't handle both at once.

A vicious grin spread across Freddy's ruined face.

By the lakeside.

Eddie leaned against a tree. Last night's events had dragged up old mories, and he hadn't slept a wink.

His shotgun rested beside him, but his eyes stayed locked on the still water.

Slowly the gentle ripples lulled him toward sleep.

Just as he was about to drift off, a low chanical hum snapped him awake.

He grabbed the gun and scanned the shoreline, searching for the source.

He circled half the lake.

He found an old, abandoned maintenance shack.

An ancient diesel generator was running. Soone had ripped the power cables free and shoved the live ends straight into the lake.

Dead fish already floated belly-up on the surface.

"Jesus, who's stupid enough to electrocute fish out here now?"

Eddie swore and moved to shut the generator off.

Then the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Pure malice pressed in from behind.

He turned his head with difficulty.

Nothing there.

Eddie let out a shaky breath. Probably just nerves.

The next second the lake exploded.

Murky water and dead fish boiled upward in a violent churn.

A massive figure rose slowly from the center.

Water stread off rotting clothes, revealing bloated muscle beneath.

A hockey mask stained with old blood turned toward Eddie.

Eddie's legs went weak. He almost dropped to his knees.

The man who'd killed his sister all those years ago… was this thing?

Hands shaking, he raised the shotgun, aid at the figure walking steadily out of the water, and pulled the trigger.

Boom!

The blast echoed across the silent lake.

The bullet punched through the tattered clothes but didn't even slow the monster's steps.

Jason tilted his head slightly, almost curious about the pathetic attack.

He ignored Eddie completely, walked straight to the maintenance shack, and started digging through the pile of rusted tools. A mont later he pulled out a heavily rusted machete.

Eddie's mind snapped.

He rembered Luke's warning, spun around, and sprinted toward camp like the devil himself was behind him.

Jason didn't chase. He simply stood there, empty eyes following the tiny running figure.

Back at camp.

"Ah-choo!"

Glen sneezed and rubbed his bloated stomach.

"I swear I'm never drinking water again in my life."

He stared at the bottle on the table with equal parts disgust and reluctance.

Nancy and the others nodded in miserable agreent.

They'd slept better than they had in days, but the near-drowning experience was burned into their souls.

Ethel walked out carrying a tray of toast and took one look at the exhausted teenagers.

"I told you kids not to stay up all night. Look at you now."

Right then a gunshot cracked in the distance, shattering the morning quiet.

Ethel's hands jerked. The tray almost hit the floor.

"Where the hell did that co from?"

Everyone inside and outside froze.

Luke stood in the doorway. At the sound of the shot his eyes narrowed.

It ca from Crystal Lake.

"Stay here. Lock the doors. Don't open for anyone."

He told Ethel and the teenagers.

"Where are you going? That was a gunshot!"

Nancy's voice was tight with fear.

Luke didn't answer. He just gave them one long look.

He turned, walked to the pickup, grabbed the shotgun and the remaining cases of holy water.

As he passed the woodpile he snatched up the axe without breaking stride.

Then he ran toward the sound of the shot.

His figure disappeared into the trees.