Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#006Reader Mode

#006

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Everything felt surreal. Seojun and Bobby locked eyes, the latter’s gaze a mix between horror and disbelief, as though Seojun had just stepped out of a horror flick.

Isn’t this the time when that man-eating monster is supposed to be active?

He attempted to gauge the time from the moon’s position but to no avail. His entire body felt like he had been drenched in water… it felt heavy, dripping, and cold. The gash on his arm had stopped bleeding, but the untreated wound still stung.

“Murderer! Mur…”

“Bobby, can you shut up?”

“Uh…”

Wielding an axe, Seojun’s message was crystal clear. Feeling the lukewarm blade near his chest, Bobby seemed to understand Seojun’s urgency. He quickly closed his mouth shut, nodding in agreement like a bobblehead.

After allowing a moment for his racing heart to settle, Seojun grabbed Bobby by the collar, lifting him. Bobby’s eyes rolled back, teetering on the edge of fainting, but Seojun remained indifferent. He examined Bobby with suspicion. Bobby’s body was intact, with not a piece missing.

Something was off. Wasn’t this the time when the poorly made man-eating monster should be wreaking havoc? Even though his wristwatch was broken, Seojun was sure it was well into the night.

All of this is so strange.

Seojun, while tilting his head with a puzzled expression, tightened his grip on the axe. Bobby was nearly out of breath, but Seojun had no time to care.

Why were the monsters silent? Why did the gas mask killer attack the convenience store instead of the campsite?

And what the hell was Bobby doing, alone, in the middle of the night? Every detail raised more questions than answers.

It would have been less surprising if Bobby had been hiding within the monster like some cosplay costume. Frustrated, Seojun swung Bobby’s head around. Just because he held a blood-stained axe, Bobby had jumped to the wildest conclusions. Seojun felt both wronged and exasperated.

For a fleeting moment, Seojun felt a pang of sympathy for Bobby. He wondered whether he should try to make Bobby see reason.

Of course, he didn’t act on it.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t become a murderer or that Bobby’s life was especially precious to him. It was the looming threat of the gas mask killer that was hunting them.

In times of crisis, even strained human relationships can find a way to smooth themselves out. Seojun gently tapped Bobby’s chest with the axe’s blunt side, coaxing a weak whimper from him.

“Uh…”

“Bobby, stay quiet if you want to live.”

“Uh, okay…”

They didn’t know when or where Gas Mask might appear. For both their sakes, Seojun offered Bobby this golden advice.

Touched by the sincere advice, tears streamed down Bobby’s face as he nodded vigorously. Seeing Bobby’s now docile demeanor, Seojun felt a bit relieved. He almost gave Bobby an affectionate pat with the back of the axe but caught himself just in time.

Yikes

Seojun gripped the fire axe tightly, its gleaming crimson hue adding to its menacing presence. Its design was dual-purpose, featuring a wickedly sharp point on the reverse side. He had come dangerously close to giving Bobby an unplanned lobotomy. Shivering at the thought, Seojun scanned their surroundings.

I’m a bit concerned about the scream Bobby let out earlier.

Bobby possessed a voice that could shatter glass – piercing and impossible to ignore. Hoping that Gas Mask had missed that ear-piercing shriek was like wishing for rain in a desert.

One couldn’t rely on chance alone to preserve their life. In a world that resembled a horror movie, filled with misfortune, Seojun made a firm decision to fight for his survival.

“Alright, Bobby. Lead the way to your friends.”

“I… I can’t do that…”

But before Bobby could protest further, Seojun waved his axe like a sorcerer’s staff, and Bobby’s eyes took on a distant, entranced look.

“O-of course I can!”

“That’s the spirit.”

Seojun handed Bobby a lantern, his voice a soft murmur, “Turn off the light. I’ll keep watch on our surroundings. You need to move silently, understand? Make no noise, not even a breath.”

“Uh… okay, okay…”

Bobby’s eyes welled up again as he extinguished the lantern, fearing the attention of the killer. Puzzled by Bobby’s fluctuating emotions, Seojun simply nudged him forward. And so, Seojun found himself with a companion who, aside from the occasional sniffle, remained mostly silent.

“Uh, ugh…”

As they moved in silence, Seojun often glanced at Bobby’s quivering back. The night’s bizarre events had drained him, and fatigue hung over him like a heavy cloak.

But resting now could be fatal. He glanced at his wristwatch, its cracked face frozen at 9:20.

He couldn’t determine how much time had passed since then, but he was certain that July 4th was far from over. As Seojun half listened to Bobby’s sobs, his mind replayed the eerie events of the evening leading to the Hamon campsite.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Seojun had always known that survival wouldn’t be easy. But tonight, that belief teetered between overconfidence and sheer hubris.

Hot blood trickled down his elbow, making Seojun feel dizzy. He tried to remember if he’d had a tetanus shot, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess.

I’ll think about the tetanus shot once I’m safe.

If he couldn’t escape Gas Mask, tetanus would be the least of his concerns. Seojun glanced back at the darkening path. By sheer luck, he had managed to fend off the killer, primarily because he hadn’t fired at him.

But Seojun couldn’t celebrate just yet. In horror films, when a killer refrains from using a gun, it usually suggests they have more brutal methods in mind. With Gas Mask, it undoubtedly meant he intended to use a Hamon knife to turn Seojun into ham, quite literally. His face grew even paler at the thought.

This is why I hate serial killers. If caught, they’re likely to launch into some deranged monologue about their twisted worldview. Do I really have to listen to their baseless, unfounded logic while being killed?

The thought of being lectured by a madman was, in some respects, more horrifying than death itself. He felt an escalating urgency to change his fate.

Panting, Seojun checked his wristwatch. It was precisely 8:30.

I left the convenience store around eight, so I’ve been on the run for about 30 minutes.

Ignoring the burning sensation in his feet, he pushed his exhausted legs onward. Gas Mask could be closing in at any moment, and he needed to create as much distance between them as possible.

However, his untrained body was exhausted from the half-hour sprint. Seojun bit his lower lip, attempting to stifle the overwhelming sense of despair. The sharp pain briefly grounded him. He wiped his brow with his uninjured left arm. With his current foggy mind, survival appeared to be a distant hope. He needed clarity and he needed it fast.

Continuing to walk, Seojun took inventory of what he had left. Regrettably, it wasn’t much: just himself, a wristwatch, and a lemon bulging in his pocket.

“Stay positive… stay positive…”

Seojun tried to reassure himself, but to no avail. Soon enough, he found himself pulling at his hair in frustration. He had been ambushed on his way home from work, and naturally, all his belongings were in his bag, which was in his bicycle basket. The bike was likely still parked obediently outside the convenience store.

He crouched in the darkness, tormented by his situation. His phone, the obvious lifeline, was agonizingly out of reach. He belatedly remembered that his parents had mentioned visiting a friend’s house that evening. Unlike Seojun, who cherished solitude, his parents were outgoing and enjoyed socializing. Given that he had left the convenience store earlier than usual, the chances of them sensing something was amiss were slim to none.

With a heavy heart, he reached into his pocket and caressed the lemon. The only possible use for the lemon was a surprise squirt attack on someone’s face, but realistically, Gas Mask would block any such attempt.

Damn Bastard.

Gritting his teeth, Seojun stood up. All he had to rely on was his tall but frail body, a pitiable state for sure.

Seojun treaded cautiously. Although he worked at a convenience store near the Hamon campsite, he was unfamiliar with the area, since he had always tried to avoid looking around. Never letting curiosity get the better of him. Blinking back tears, he glanced over his shoulder. The forest, an endless expanse of darkness, seemed to stretch on forever. No sign of Gas Mask. Yet.

But every shadow, every rustle in the pitch-black forest path, only intensified his unease. He felt like a mouse in a maze. Nevertheless, he had to keep moving.

The Hamon campsite, infamous for its man-eating monster and serial killer, was also where Christina could be found. The trope of the “final girl” was what propelled him forward. And then there were others: the formidable William and Bobby, who, in all likelihood, would serve as unsuspecting bait in the most dangerous places.

And, of course, there was Johan.

Seojun had known Johan Gentil since they were children. Young Johan could be irritable at times, but he was generally a reliable and peculiar boy.

They weren’t exactly friends, nor were they dating. Still, the knowledge that Johan was at the Hamon campsite provided Seojun with the strength to carry on. It was a strange feeling.

Fortunately, his melancholic feelings dissolved in the face of exhaustion. Sprinting, Seojun was startled by his own sentimentality. With his life on the line, indulging in emotions was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He snapped back to reality.

A 194 cm quarterback truly is a great shield.