>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaaTthe3e6oLucky enough to have stumbled and fallen as he backed away, Miles was now staring at the blade wedged in the hardwood floor between his legs, half an inch away from his dick; his heart pounding.
Norman instinctively rushed to his aid, grabbing him by the collar and trying to drag him away.
The killer pulled his axe free and gave it a twirl to turn the blade upside down, before grabbing it with both hands and taking a mighty swing.
"FoOoRe!"
*SCHPLORCK!*
The cold cheek of the blade met the Linebacker's profile at around 180 mph and went straight through; his head exploding like a watermelon as chunks of brain, flesh and bone splattered all over the place.
The lights came on just just as Norman's headless body first kneeled and then collapsed to the floor; a geyser of warm blood shooting out of his neck.
"ToUchdOwn! HaR-hAr-HaR-hAr-HaAaR!"
"AAAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Amber let out a blood-curdling scream as Spencer frantically clawed at the furniture blocking the bedroom door, trying to remove the makeshift barricade with little success.
Derek closed his eyes and whispered a little prayer through gritted teeth; a lone tear escaping his eyes.
"THERE'S NO TOUCHDOWNS IN GOLF, YOU ASSHOLE!" he clenched his fists and charged at the monstrous man, catching him off guard with a shoulder blow to the stomach.
"UrK!"
*CRASH!*
The two of them smashed through the railing and fell off the balcony as the rest of the gang looked on with mouths agape.
-----
Sheriff Campbell was on his radio, pacing up and down along the edge of Brooker Canyon, talking to some pencil-pusher rookie back at the HQ in Olympia in a very much futile attempt to request backup; his frustration with the lack of cooperation translating into exasperated gesturing through the rain as the headlights from his truck shone upon Megan's torched patrol car and the crumbled bridge up ahead.
*kshhht*"...Negative, sir. Not in this weather. Bird's staying grounded."*kshhht*
"Son, I flew a goddamn Huey through a tropical rainstorm in 'Nam back in '69 and I'm still standing. Now, I've got a situation brewing up here and I--"
*kshhhhhhhhhhhhhhht*
"State cops my ass..." he huffed through his mustache as the radio went silent.
He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair as he stared into the darkness with a heavy sigh; his gaze landing on the blinking red light atop the radio tower way out in the distance.
He snapped his fingers.
-----
"Come on, goddammit!" Walter was all bandaged-up, drowning in a sea of cables and duct tape as he tried to revive his mangled console. "Work, ya useless hunka junk!" he yelled at the machinery, angrily tossing yet another screwdriver right through the broken window in front of him; his third one for the night.
He slumped down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
