Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#075Reader Mode

#075

Lacey knew she shouldn’t trust Johan, but what choice did she have? With a huff, she stomped behind the counter and jabbed the computer’s power button. She roughly swiped the bloody, coffee-stained mess aside before dropping into the chair with a thud.

“Just so you know, there’s no sound,” Lacey muttered, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. “So don’t come whining to me later about it.”

Johan merely shrugged. He hadn’t expected much anyway.

“It’s okay. It’s fun to use my imagination.”

“……”

Lacey shot him a look of pure disgust before refocusing on the screen. The clack of keys mingled with squeaky mouse clicks, Ben’s labored breathing, and the Doberman’s ceaseless gnawing created an eerie melody you couldn’t really call ambiance.

While quiet stillness could bring peace, it could also set everyone on edge. Johan licked his dry lips.

“That bite on your arm- the dog did it, huh?”

The owner blinked, barely registering Johan’s casual address. Seriously, idle chit-chat at a time like this? But Johan just smiled and nodded like they were two pals catching up. He was way too calm for a guy who should be scared out of his wits.

Only then did the owner get what Lacey had tried to warn him about. This man holding Ben was clearly not in his right mind.

He clenched his jaw as Johan’s friendly voice grated on his last nerve. The balls on this punk, acting like he was the one in charge here when he should just shut up and be grateful to be a source of fuel! The owner was the adult, a family man just trying to get by and provide. He deserved respect, even fear, from a kid who looked barely out of his twenties. Having some snot-nosed brat disrespect him like this was insane.

Propping his elbows on the counter reeking of day-old coffee and rusty pipes, the owner hoisted up the dog’s limp carcass by the scruff of its neck, blood droplets oozing down his forearm in a trail.

“You mean this mutt? The loud ones need a good beating to shut ‘em up for good.”

Under the harsh fluorescents, Johan watched in morbid satisfaction as scarlet rivulets snaked into the man’s gashes and cuts, gravity pulling the blood in surrender.

“Guess that means its real owner is dead too. You wouldn’t treat a beloved pet like that.”

The man’s face split into a cruel grin at Johan’s words. Even Lacey smirked, tongue flicking out snake-like, relishing the moment despite her disgust with Johan after the storage room fiasco.

“Ahhh… Dottie Alburn was perfection. Dumb, naive woman, living all by her lonesome. And that soft, creamy skin… The best fuel comes from rich b*tches like that.”

Johan tried to imagine what kind of person Dottie Alburn had been. Probably someone gentle and doting, with fair skin that radiated warmth and kindness. The thought of such an innocent soul crossing paths with these depraved individuals should have been deeply unsettling. But Johan’s attempt at empathy quickly fizzled out. After all, he hadn’t asked the question out of any noble desire to mourn her.

“You put on quite an act, didn’t you Lacey? Acting worried about the dog’s life, pretending you needed to rush to the hospital like its real owner did….”

“Well of course,” Lacey replied, her twisted glee fading into callous indifference. “If you want people to believe you, you have to sell it. Lay it on thick with the fake sincerity.”

Her elated tone vanished as abruptly as it had surfaced, replaced by Lacey’s usual brisk efficiency as she resumed her tasks with rough, impatient hands – as if wanting to shoo away the pesky gnat Johan as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the owner’s rage found an outlet in crushing anything within reach – the dog’s already mangled remains, supplies near the counter, all falling victim to his venting fists.

Lacey’s chair screeched as she abruptly stood up and straightened her posture. In her outstretched hand was a small USB drive, so ordinary-looking for something that contained intimate details about Seojun that Johan had never seen before. His heart raced even faster than when he had interrogated Ben for answers, each one more sickening than the last. A thrill crept over Johan and he asked with a delighted smile,

“So why do you think the owner was in such a rush to get to the hospital?”

Lacey brushed off the question, clearly not interested. “Must’ve been sick or something. But when I cut her open, didn’t look like she overate or nothing.”

The owner kept fiddling with something in his pocket, the sound of rustling fabric barely audible.

“Hmm, makes sense I suppose.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Lacey snapped, her voice sharp as a knife. “Give us Ben, and you’ll get the USB. It’s that simple.”

She stepped out from behind the counter, standing tall beside her father. The thought that her brother’s life could be reduced to the contents of a tiny device was absolutely ridiculous. But then again, crazy people often operated on a logic that rarely made sense. Lacey swallowed hard, pushing down the disgust threatening to rise up her throat.

“Come on, don’t be an idiot,” Johan scoffed, shooting her an exasperated look. He spoke slowly, like he was explaining something painfully obvious to a small child. “Think about it – you need to give me the USB drive first as collateral for Ben’s return. It’s just common sense. If I release him now, you’ll turn around and try to kill me the second you have him back. But once I have what I need, what good is keeping him around? He’s leverage for the moment, but the instant I have to make a run for it, a 130-pound anchor like him is the last thing I need weighing me down. I’ll dump him in a heartbeat rather than let him slow my escape.”

“……”

Lacey’s dark eyes bored into Johan, her expression stony and inscrutable. She had to admit, in a sick and twisted way, his reasoning held a certain depraved logic that fit with the unhinged image he had cultivated thus far.

If he had gotten defensive or tried to justify himself, she would have known it was a bluff. But boldness and decisive action were more his style than empty bluster, as he himself pointed out. Johan was cunning, ruthless and aggressive – he had already proven the depths of his cruelty by forcing Ben’s own father to brutalize him by using him as a shield. Lacey had no doubt he’d make good on his threats.

“Fine,” Lacey bit out. “We’ll do the swap at the same time. No funny business.”

“Agreed. And you,” Johan jerked his chin at Lacey’s father, “don’t even think about blocking the exit. Move next to your daughter so I have a clear path out of here.”

The owner’s eyes flashed with barely contained murderous intent, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But a soft moan from Ben, hanging limply in Johan’s grasp, stopped any reckless moves. Lacey tapped her father’s arm, leaving a smear of blood on his shirt, and with a final glare promising retribution, he stepped into position.

“We’ll pass on one, then.”

“Three.”

Johan’s consent was all Lacey needed to start the countdown immediately.

“Two,” Lacey continued, her eyes briefly darting to Ben’s still body, blood trickling from his nose as she shrugged.

The owner’s bruised, swollen-up lips tightened into a thin line.

“One.”

As soon as the countdown ended, everything happened at once.

Lacey tossed the USB drive into the air. Johan kicked Ben in the back, shoving him out of the way. At the same time, the owner swung his fist, clutching a lit lighter, ready to unleash hell. But Johan was faster. Having pushed Ben aside to catch the USB, he smashed the owner’s wrist with the metal crowbar without a second thought.

“Ughh!” The owner grunted in pain, the blow shattering bone. The lighter slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor as Johan easily blocked the weak attack.

The falling flame missed Johan, landing instead on a box of discounted overstock crammed under the shelves. The tight space was filled with highly flammable goods, a powder keg waiting to ignite.

While Lacey checked on Ben, the owner, nursing his busted wrist, took another wild swing at Johan. His murderous intent radiated off him in palpable waves, even without a proper weapon. But what the owner didn’t realize was that Johan’s cold logic trumped their assumptions. This time, Johan swung the crowbar not at the owner, but at the glass display case. It shattered with a sickening crash that felt inevitable.

“Agghh! Melinda!”

“No Mama!”

Anguished screams from Lacey and the owner pierced the air as shards of glass flew everywhere, glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. No longer in need of his burdensome living hostage, Johan spotted a more convenient option right before him – a human skull, grinning emptily up at him. The horrified expressions of Lacey and the owner were reflected across the jagged pieces of glass littering the floor.

Johan grabbed the skull, shoving his fingers into the hollow eye sockets and nasal cavity to claim his new hostage. He gave it a playful, mocking shake as if greeting a long-lost friend.

“What are you doing to Mama’s…to Mama’s head?!” Lacey’s voice cracked with outrage, her face flushing crimson to the roots of her hair. Shoving Ben aside, she frantically searched for anything that could serve as a weapon, her body nearly vibrating with a need for action. In furious desperation, she resorted to stomping her feet.

The owner’s complexion deepened to an alarming shade of purple, his anger a perfect mirror to Lacey’s. Bulging veins stood out in sharp relief against his skin and one eye was completely bloodshot, the vessels ruptured from extreme emotion. “You… if you so much as lay another finger on Melinda, I’ll make you beg for death,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “I’ll tear out your nails and peel back your skin while you still draw breath!”

Johan twirled the crowbar with a casual air that belied the gravity of the situation. “No need for the dramatics,” he said, his voice light. “I know how much she means to you both. It’s actually kinda…sweet, how devoted you are to your family.”

Indeed, Melinda’s skull was much easier to handle than Ben’s entire body. Just as he’d predicted, using her remains as leverage had shocked Lacey and the owner into a horrified standstill. Not that he planned to disrespect Melinda any more than necessary.

“I don’t understand why you refuse to believe that my intention is just to leave peacefully.”

Lacey’s entire body shook with rage. “You monster! How dare you violate Mama’s remains like it’s nothing? You’re gonna rot in hell for this!”

Johan’s threat against Melinda’s skull clearly struck a more agonizing blow than even holding Ben hostage. It was an understandable reaction – a living person can recover from injuries, but any further damage to Melinda’s remains would be irreversible.

Satisfied with his terrible but efficient new bargaining chip, Johan pressed forward. “Lacey, this person you killed – the hospital she was going to… was it for her?”

“Quit dredging up irrelevant details!” Annoyance flickered across Lacey’s face as she fought to keep her composure, her uneasy eyes glued to Johan’s callous handling of her mother’s skull, tossing and catching it like it was a toy.

“She was probably heading to a vet hospital.”

“…Animal hospital?” The owner’s expression hardened with doubt at the unexpected theory.

Johan’s unflinching smile remained as he nodded meaningfully towards the caged dog. “There was even a poster about it or did you not notice?”

Excessive drooling, hydrophobia, aggression…symptoms they had brushed off now took on a terrifying new meaning. While not a wild animal per se, the pitiful dog trapped in that cage certainly showed all the warning signs. The owner shuddered involuntarily, staring at the arm he had used to hoist the dog’s bloody carcass, allowing its infected fluids to seep into the feebly twitching bite wound…

The horrifying possibility struck the owner like a physical blow, leaving him staggering. He had contemplated his own death countless times – getting caught in shootout, murdered in a robbery like his late wife, or taken down in a police raid. But rabies had never crossed his mind. As the bone-chilling truth sank in, Lacey turned to her father, eyes wide with growing panic.

“Pa…Papa, no. It can’t be true. Please, tell me it’s not true!”

Their frantic words were cut short by a sizzling sound as the spreading fire melted through the plastic bin, burning a jagged hole right through. The lighter’s flame, originally meant for something much darker, had quietly set the contents of a nearby discount bin ablaze. On top of the pile sat a harmless-looking pack of sparklers. Like clockwork, the wire tips began to glow red, flaring to life. Pop! Pop! The muffled bangs echoed through the air like toy guns as the first sparklers caught fire. Seconds later, the firecrackers next to them followed, igniting one after another.

The first firecracker shot off with an ear-piercing shriek, spraying crimson sparks sideways in a dazzling burst of light. The sparks shattered the light bulbs overhead, raining sharp shards of glass down on them.

“Aaagghh!” Lacey screamed, throwing her arms up to protect her head as the initial blast gave way to a relentless onslaught of explosions.

Dozens more firecrackers whizzed through the air like angry hornets, their neon trails and thunderous detonations reverberating in the cramped space. Gunpowder rained down like fiery shrapnel, engulfing the dingy store in a blinding kaleidoscope of lights and eye-watering smoke.

Lacey, the owner, and even Ben, who was still writhing on the floor, flailed about in a frantic dance, desperately trying to dodge the firecrackers exploding all around them. They twisted their bodies in what almost seemed like slow-motion against the dazzling pyrotechnic display, their faces contorted in agony.

However this was real life, not a movie. As the firecrackers reached an earsplitting crescendo, Johan seized his chance. With a powerful kick, he burst through the store’s door and strolled out into the cool night air. The fresh breeze and smell of gasoline from the station felt refreshing after the acrid smoke inside. The glittering stars overhead seemed to bathe everything in a holy glow. Johan had gotten the footage he was after.

But instead of hightailing it out of here in his little Beetle, Johan decided to take a detour. Using the crowbar, he pried the nails out of the Doberman’s cage. The poor dog cowered as Johan reached in, but he deftly wrapped an arm around its neck before it could attack. Johan couldn’t care less if the dog actually had rabies or not – the mere threat of it had been a convenient way to distract and manipulate the owner, who seemed to have a knack for holding grudges.

With his new “hostage” in tow, Johan plopped the skull right on top of the bewildered Doberman’s head before setting it loose. The dog yipped and spun around wildly, the skull wobbling precariously, before bounding back into the store. Through the windows, Lacey could be seen dragging Ben to safety in the back room while the red-faced owner frantically whipped a cloth around, trying in vain to smother the flickering flames.

Misguided as it was, Johan had to admit their intense family loyalty was undeniably real. He almost found it admirable. As chance would have it, the skull-topped Doberman accidentally stepped on a remote control that had tumbled to the floor, switching on the retro TV. An excited male voice crackled from the toppled television:

“…a deranged family extracting ‘oil’ from living people like they’re wringing out a rag!”

As a final deafening explosion rocked the night, Johan’s cute little Beetle peeled away, the gas station’s fiery brilliance fading in the rearview mirror.

T/N: Johan…who blows up a gas station to get footage of their crush? So scary…