by Jon Athan
Britney said, “I'll stay. I don't want to see Michael like that. I don't want to see anymore dead bodies.”
Stephen said, “I can't stay. I've got some bud on me. I don't... I don't want to get caught around here. I know it, they'll link all of this to me just 'cause I sold her some weed. I'm going.”
“Then I'll stay,” Adam said. “Dominique called you, Charles, so she expects to see you. I'll stick around here.”
Britney asked, “If that's how it's going to be, do you guys need a ride or something?”
Charlene responded, “No. The field is just a few blocks down. We can jog over there, then we can walk to Big's. Just call me if anything happens.” She beckoned to Stephen and said, “Let's hurry.”
The friends said their goodbyes. Charlene and Stephen crept out of the house, slinking past Louise in the living room, while Adam and Britney called the police from Hailey's bedroom.
Chapter Fourteen
Death Looming Over The City
Breathing heavily, Charlene and Stephen slowed from a jog to a stroll upon reaching the baseball field. The field was cordoned off by the police—detectives discussed the case near the foul lines while forensic specialists combed the area for evidence. Michael lay on top of home-plate. His body was not covered yet in order to preserve the crime scene.
As she approached Dominique, Charlene frowned and said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Dominique grimaced and sobbed, then she fell into Charlene's arms and cried into her chest. She released all of the sorrow in her system, mourning the death of a special friend.
Teary-eyed, Charlene patted the back of Dominique's head and said, “I don't know what to say. I know you were having problems, but... Shit, this is just too much. It's fucked up.”
In a muffled tone, Dominique asked, “Why would someone do this to him? Why... Why is that bastard killing us?”
“I don't know, sweetie, I just don't know. I don't think he's going to stop any time soon, though. We're all in trouble.”
Dominique pulled away from Charlene's embrace. She stared at her close friend with a furrowed brow, rattled by the ominous statement.
She asked, “What are you talking about? How do you know he's not done? How do you know we... we're in trouble?”
Chiming in, Stephen said, “He killed Melanie and Hailey, and now your boyfriend is dead. We're fucked, Dom. Obviously, these pigs aren't doing their jobs. We should have gone to Vegas when we had the chance... Fuck.”
Dominique was shocked by the news, rendered speechless by the blunt truth. She glanced at Charlene, hoping to receive some sensible words of reassurance, but her friend remained silent. She grimaced and sobbed again, crippled by her fear.
As she stared at the field, Charlene said, “I don't know what to do... I'm out of ideas. Damn it, I just don't know what to do anymore.”
“What are you kids doing here?” a gruff voice asked from behind the group.
The students turned towards the voice. Sheriff Cameron Jackson approached from behind them. The man walked with two other officers. He beckoned to the officers and motioned his demands—go to the field, don't let anyone through, you know the drill.
He stopped beside the students and said, “You should be home right now. You shouldn't be roaming the streets.”
The students, despondent and quiet, stared down at their feet. Their shame and fear could be seen from a mile away. Charlene, in particular, was worried Jackson would recognize her from Melanie's footage. It was dark, she thought, he couldn't recognize me, it's impossible.
Jackson sighed, then he asked, “Did you see anything over here?” The students glanced up at him, curious. Jackson clarified, “Did any of you know the victim?”
Before Dominique could respond, Charlene said, “We saw him around school. He was a... a friend. We wouldn't know anything else about him, so don't bother asking.”
She gave a hostile response in order to stop Jackson from taking them to the station. The police weren't able to protect the students throughout the past week, so she didn't trust him. At the back of her mind, she even believed a police officer could be responsible. He could tamper with the evidence, she thought, there's no way they're that incompetent.
Jackson said, “Okay, okay. I just want you to know: every detail helps. If you knew the victim, if you knew if he was in any trouble with any rough crowds, it would help us bring justice to these streets if you told us about it.”
“Rough crowds?” Dominique repeated in disbelief. “What? Do you think this was gang-related? I saw him when I got here. He looked like he was attacked by an animal! He was slaughtered, just like our other classmates!”
Unable to contain herself, Charlene jabbed her finger at the officer's chest and said, “You were supposed to protect us. You said no one else would get hurt!”
Jackson sighed in disappointment. He felt guilty for his perceived failures. He was trying to catch a serial killer while keeping the situation under control. The bodies were quickly piling up, though, and hell was breaking loose in the city.
Jackson said, “I won't force you into anything, I don't have the right to do that, but I'd really appreciate it if you came down to the station with me. We can talk about this. We can help you and you can help us.”
Stephen said, “No, no, no. That's what you always say. 'We're just putting you in handcuffs, you're not under arrest,' but you always arrest them. If we go with you, we'd just be cornering ourselves, and if you're the kill–” He stopped himself from making the baseless claim. He said, “It's... It's just not worth it. We don't know anything anyway.”
Charlene said, “Stephen's right. We can't trust anyone. I mean, we can barely trust ourselves, so how could we trust you? We don't know why you haven't caught the guy, we don't know where you've been. I can't do it, I can't go...”
Jackson said, “Like I told you: I'm not going to force you into the back of a police car. I can't do that to you. Not after all of this... I want you to be safe, though. You need to trust us just like I'm trusting you to do the right thing.” He sighed as he glanced over at the field, dismayed by the tragedy. He said, “Listen, if you won't come with me, I think it would be best if you went home—together. Pick one house where you know your parents will be home, lock all of the doors, then have a... a sleepover or something. If you can't do that, stay at your own houses and lock yourselves in. Whatever you do, don't come out at night like this young man did. I don't want you running around these streets looking for trouble.”
As she swiped at the tears clinging to her eyelids, Charlene nodded and stuttered, “I–I... I think we can do that. S–Sure.”
“Thank you. I want you to know: we're trying our best out here. There will be a mandatory curfew for the rest of the week, we're working directly with our neighborhood watch groups to keep a lookout over our communities 24/7, and the investigation is... it's moving, okay? We have some suspects who we'll be hauling in soon. We're making progress.”
The students didn't have anything else to say to the sheriff. They simply nodded at him—okay. The sheriff returned the nod, then he moseyed towards the baseball field. He had to push through the concerned civilians and drama-starved reporters.
Dominique asked, “What's the plan, Charlene?”
As she stared at Michael's body from afar, Charlene said, “This isn't the place to talk... Adam and Britney are meeting us at Big's Burgers. Come on, I'll fill you in on the way.”
As the group wandered away from the crime scene, Dominique glanced back at the field and whispered, “I'm sorry, Michael. I'm sorry for everything...”
***
Charlene, Dominique, and Stephen sat at a table outside of Big's Burgers, resting in the shade of a large umbrella. The world around them moved at the same pace as the day before—and it would surely move at the same pace during the next day. Some parents were concerned about their kids' well-being, especially with the fear-mongering media attempting to terrify everyone simply to retain viewership
.
However, the chance of being killed by a serial killer was a fraction of one-percent, so it didn't really bother them. News programs served as entertainment and statistics made people feel better.
Adam and Britney approached the table.
Adam said, “We called the cops and waited across the street until they showed up. I think they found her body and I don't think Mrs. Washington saw us leave.” He nodded at Charlene and asked, “How'd it go at the baseball field?”
Dominique scowled at Adam and responded, “How do you think it went? Huh? Didn't you hear? Michael is dead. He's gone. You fucking asshole...”
“I know, I know. I didn't mean to... to offend you. I was just asking in case anything else happened,” Adam responded. He rubbed Dominique's shoulder and said, “I'm sorry. He was my friend, too. I don't... Shit, I don't know what else to say.”
The group became quiet, taking a moment of silence to honor their slain friend. Although customers happily chattered around them, the atmosphere at the table was poignant—a black cloud poured a rain of pessimism over the friends.
Breaking the silence, Britney asked, “What are we going to do? I mean, we can't trust anyone, right? So, what do we do?”
Charlene said, “When we bumped into Sheriff Jackson at the field, he told us that we should all stick together and try to sleep at one house. It sounds like it could work, but... I don't know. What do you think?”
Stephen shook his head and said, “It's a stupid idea. It's not safe, either. I mean, just think about how easy it is to break into a house these days. Shit, it's even been done in movies. You've watched Scream, right? They all go to a house party at the end of the movie and, spoiler alert, people still end up dying. We can invite everyone to one of our houses and it wouldn't matter... Numbers don't mean shit in a horror movie.”
Dominique said, “We're not in a damn horror movie or some true crime book. No one is sitting in their beds reading about this before they sleep.”
“Movie, book, reality... It doesn't matter. The same rules apply. It's not safe.”
Adam said, “But, it would be five against one. We would be able to take care of ourselves either way, right?”
Charlene vacantly stared at the table. She thought about horror movies and books. Although her favorite movies were works of fiction, she believed most movies were based on real life. Therefore, fictional scenarios could help her survive. Violent media was not as 'worthless' as some pseudo-intellectuals would argue.
Charlene said, “In Scream, there was more than one killer... What if it's the same here? What if this killer isn't working alone?”
Adam huffed, then he responded, “The same twist? That would just be lazy, Charles.”
Dominique gritted her teeth as she grabbed a fistful of her hair. The conversation was obnoxious. Her former boyfriend was dead. She was devastated by his unexpected demise. However, she was more concerned about her own safety. Movies can't save us, she thought.
Dominique said, “I can't believe this... What if it's like that kid that drowned in the lake? Huh? What if Jason fucking Voorhees is after us? What if Charlene's long-lost brother is back to celebrate Thanksgiving or 'French Toast Day?' What then?” She nervously chuckled and shook her head, flustered. She said, “This isn't a movie. Okay? Look, the sheriff said they're close to catching the guy. So, we either stick together and try to fight him off until they catch him or we split up. As far as I know, he doesn't have my number, Britney's number, or Adam's number. Splitting up might be better if we don't want Charlene and Stephen to get everyone killed... like Michael.”
“What?” Charlene asked, sneering in disbelief. “Are you really blaming us for Michael's death?”
“You brought Michael along with you last night. You brought him out, you got him killed. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you.”
“You... You bitch. He would have never left us if you weren't cheating, you–”
“Stop,” Britney interrupted. She stopped the argument from snowballing out of control. She said, “I think you're both right. He's following us somehow. Maybe it is Charlene and Stephen, maybe it isn't. All we know is: everyone who died, they died alone. I think it would be best if we stuck together. We just have to find a place the killer wouldn't search. Not a house, not a park... We have to find somewhere that would be empty but... but secure at night.”
Yet again, the group became quiet. Without uttering a word, they cycled through their options. Houses were out of the questions—too many deaths occurred at home. Public spaces were also dangerous—the killer could be lurking anywhere. The police station seemed like the safest bet, but doubts still lingered in their minds.
Dominique said, “I have an idea.” All of the students glanced at her, curious. Dominique said, “There's one place that's always empty and secure at night: the school. I can call Wilson and I can get him to sneak us into the school when the sun goes down. We'll go into one classroom and we'll wait until morning. The school is like a fortress and no one would ever think of us being there. And, the police station is, like, four or five blocks away. It's safe.”
“Yeah. That can work,” Charlene said. She glanced at the rest of the group and asked, “What do you think?”
The students glanced at each other, nervous and uncertain. They didn't have any better suggestions, though. Adam, Britney, and Stephen nodded in agreement.
Charlene turned towards Dominique and said, “Call him. See if you can convince him. Try to get him to stay with us, too. Everyone who knows we'll be there has to be there. Go ahead, call him.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Last Stand
Two vehicles—Wilson's sedan and Britney's SUV—rolled to a stop at the side of the school, solely illuminated by the moonlight. Charlene, Adam, and Dominique rode with Wilson while Britney and Stephen rode in the SUV. The group arrived at their destination, but they didn't immediately exit their vehicles. They sat and stared at the empty school, as if they were uncertain of their plans.
Charlene asked, “Won't there be any security guards or janitors around?”
As he stared at the building, the fear of destroying his career sitting on his shoulders, Wilson responded, “No. The police are out with the Neighborhood Watch. They're patrolling the communities.”
“And, what about the janitors?”
“Only one janitor works around here at night. I had to call him to borrow his keys. He doesn't know about all of... this. Besides, his shift is over now. I'm sure of it.”
The interior of the car became silent. Charlene felt like she should have been asking more questions, but she couldn't say another word. Adam grabbed his girlfriend's hand and nodded at her—everything's going to be okay. Dominique kept her eyes locked on the building, anxious.
Wilson asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Charlene said, “Yeah. I think it's our best option. For tonight, at least.”
“We have an agreement, right? You'll keep quiet about... about us, and I'll help you this one time. There's no turning back on that, even if you get caught, okay?”
Charlene and Adam nodded—okay. Wilson turned towards his teenage lover. Dominique gave off half-a-smile and nodded in agreement.
Wilson said, “Alright. Let's get in there before someone sees us.”
The group climbed out of the sedan. As they followed Wilson's lead, Charlene turned and beckoned to the couple in the SUV. Britney and Stephen glanced at each other—a glance of uncertainty—then they followed their friends. They examined the building as they strolled towards the front of the school.
The campus was clean and modern, but it still felt eerie. Schools always felt spooky when they were explored at night without any crowds.
Wilson turned the key, then he pushed the front doors open. The group stared down the dark, lonely hall—doubtful, nervous, frightened.
Wilson said, “We'll go to my classroom and none of you will leave my sight until we all decide to go home. Unde
rstood?”
Charlene glanced at her friends, then at Wilson. She said, “Understood.”
“Good. Come on. Try not to touch anything, either.”
As Wilson closed the door behind them, the group slowly walked past the administration area to their right. They were afraid the principal might have been lurking around the campus—he was nowhere in sight, though. So, the group quietly walked past the first intersection and strolled down the locker-lined hallway.
Wilson's classroom was the fifth room to the right in the same corridor as the school's main entrance.
Wilson unlocked the door and said, “I think we should leave the lights off. We're not supposed to be here—obviously.”
He used an app on his cellphone to use his camera's flash as a light. From the whiteboard at the front of the class, he illuminated the rest of the room. To his relief, the coast was clear. A killer wasn't hiding under the desks or in the dimmest corners of the room.
As he sat on the rolling chair at his desk, the teacher said, “Maybe you guys should just sit near the front. You don't have to sit in your regular seats or anything like that.” He nodded at Stephen and said, “I don't think I've ever even had you in a Math class.”
Stephen said, “Yeah, you're right.” He grabbed a desk from the front row and dragged it towards the whiteboard, then he spun it around. He said, “Well, I hope you don't mind if I move this. If you guys are going to sit in the front and look this way, someone should be looking at the back of the class. Someone other than this guy...”
As she took a seat at the front of the class, Charlene said, “Good thinking. We can keep an eye on the door while you watch our backs.”
Dominique, Britney, and Adam sat at the other desks in the front row. The group was silent. Stephen turned on the light on his phone and illuminated his friends. Charlene stared at the clock above the whiteboard, anxiously waiting for the night to end. Adam sat beside her, constantly glancing every which way—as if he were afraid of something. Britney scrolled through the social media apps on her phone, trying to keep her mind off of the mayhem.