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"Rough Night At Bass Lake"
May. 25th, 2022 09:59 am"Rough Night At Bass Lake"
5/2/1990
Amy Lynn Deacon was completely hysterical at this point. In the glare from the headlights of their car, she watched the killer crouching over the body of her poor brother-in-law lying down in the weeds on the edge of Bass Lake. What was he doing with that huge knife? Hadn't he done enough? As she stared, the tall figure straightened up and swung around toward her.
Seneca wore a plain white cotton hood pulled down to cover his entire head. Two thin slits, barely enough to allow vision, had been cut where his eyes were and for some reason he had painted an upward-pointing crescent shaped line over over the bottom half of the mask. It made the hood look grotesquely like a smiley button. The killer wore tattered, stained overalls and decrepit work boots, and in one pale hand was a butcher knife caked with dried blood. He should not have been able to spot her where she crouched in the bushes beyond the car, and the whimpering which she could not stop should not have been audible in the drizzle. But somehow he was heading straight for her.
Letting Tommy's mutilated corpse drop face down into the mud, Seneca came striding with long determined strides in her direction. The smiling mask was getting closer. Amy shrieked without knowing it and took off in the opposite direction faster than she had ever moved before in her life. She only took three frantic steps before someone loomed up unexpectedly in front of her and she was brought to a halt by strong hands that caught her by the arms.
"Let me GO!" she screamed, slapping and struggling to get loose. The stranger was a tall thin man in a black commando suit, wearing a visored helmet, and he seemed not to feel her blows. Amy wriggled and kicked in utter desperation. In another second, that masked murderer would be on top of them.
"Steady, miss," said the stranger in a calm, self-assured voice. "Get behind me." He swung her around so he stood between her and the oncoming killer. Amy dropped to her hands and knees, unable to rise. She had just been through too much this night. The shock of what she had seen was more traumatic than physical injury. Amy was breathing in short rapid gasps and felt like her heart was going to explode.
Seneca rushed up with arm's reach, the long knife swinging up behind his head. The stranger in black faced that attack with no apparent concern, hands down at his sides, seemingly unconcerned. At the last possible split-second, the stranger abruptly blasted out a blurringly fast backfist and left hook combination that snapped the killer's masked head to one side and then the other. Any normal man would have been dropped with a broken neck by those lightning blows, but Seneca merely paused in his charge. Turning sideways, the man in black drove out a high side kick that lifted the maniac up and back so hard that the bottoms of his feet showed. Seneca hit the ground with a thump.
For the first time that night, a thrill of hope shot through Amy Deacon. Someone was standing up to the monster of Bass Lake. ( the rest of the story )
5/2/1990
Amy Lynn Deacon was completely hysterical at this point. In the glare from the headlights of their car, she watched the killer crouching over the body of her poor brother-in-law lying down in the weeds on the edge of Bass Lake. What was he doing with that huge knife? Hadn't he done enough? As she stared, the tall figure straightened up and swung around toward her.
Seneca wore a plain white cotton hood pulled down to cover his entire head. Two thin slits, barely enough to allow vision, had been cut where his eyes were and for some reason he had painted an upward-pointing crescent shaped line over over the bottom half of the mask. It made the hood look grotesquely like a smiley button. The killer wore tattered, stained overalls and decrepit work boots, and in one pale hand was a butcher knife caked with dried blood. He should not have been able to spot her where she crouched in the bushes beyond the car, and the whimpering which she could not stop should not have been audible in the drizzle. But somehow he was heading straight for her.
Letting Tommy's mutilated corpse drop face down into the mud, Seneca came striding with long determined strides in her direction. The smiling mask was getting closer. Amy shrieked without knowing it and took off in the opposite direction faster than she had ever moved before in her life. She only took three frantic steps before someone loomed up unexpectedly in front of her and she was brought to a halt by strong hands that caught her by the arms.
"Let me GO!" she screamed, slapping and struggling to get loose. The stranger was a tall thin man in a black commando suit, wearing a visored helmet, and he seemed not to feel her blows. Amy wriggled and kicked in utter desperation. In another second, that masked murderer would be on top of them.
"Steady, miss," said the stranger in a calm, self-assured voice. "Get behind me." He swung her around so he stood between her and the oncoming killer. Amy dropped to her hands and knees, unable to rise. She had just been through too much this night. The shock of what she had seen was more traumatic than physical injury. Amy was breathing in short rapid gasps and felt like her heart was going to explode.
Seneca rushed up with arm's reach, the long knife swinging up behind his head. The stranger in black faced that attack with no apparent concern, hands down at his sides, seemingly unconcerned. At the last possible split-second, the stranger abruptly blasted out a blurringly fast backfist and left hook combination that snapped the killer's masked head to one side and then the other. Any normal man would have been dropped with a broken neck by those lightning blows, but Seneca merely paused in his charge. Turning sideways, the man in black drove out a high side kick that lifted the maniac up and back so hard that the bottoms of his feet showed. Seneca hit the ground with a thump.
For the first time that night, a thrill of hope shot through Amy Deacon. Someone was standing up to the monster of Bass Lake. ( the rest of the story )
