CHUCK VERSUS THE CABIN IN THE WOODS
The tops of the tall pine trees were lit a brilliant orange by the fading rays of the setting sun. In the growing twilight at the base of the trees, the nocturnal denizens of the piney woods began to stir, peering out of burrows or sniffing the air for the scent of food – or danger. A white-tail deer nosed cautiously into the clearing, its ears twitching left and right as it scented the air.
The clearing was dominated by an old cabin, its weathered exterior desperately in need of paint and the dust covering its windows rendering them almost opaque. Two rocking chairs, their wicker seats slowly disintegrating, stood motionless on the cabin's small porch and a wind chime hung limply in the still, dead air.
Just as the white-tail doe started to dip its head to nip at the tender poa annua growing in riotous abundance in the small meadow stretching away from the front of the cabin, it jerked its head up and looked to its left, down the cabin's long, rutted, overgrown drive. Its flank twitched twice, and then with a bound it vanished into the growing dark of the woods.
Two beams of light splayed across the front of the cabin, glinting dully in the dirt-covered windows. The tires of a 1985 royal blue Crown Victoria crunched on the patches of gravel still remaining on the driveway as it pulled up in front of the isolated cabin.
The driver's door of the Crown Vic opened slowly and a tall, solidly built man slowly emerged from the car, the long barrel of a silenced Sig Sauer P229 preceding him. His head swiveled right and left in unintentional mimicry of the deer before he turned and ducked his head back into the car.
"Stay in the car, Chuck," John Casey barked.
"Stay in the car, Chuck," Charles Bartowski repeated in a mocking tone. "I swear, they're going to carve that on my tombstone."
"Keep it up and that'll come sooner rather than later," Casey replied.
In the passenger seat, Sarah Walker finished screwing a silencer on her Smith and Wesson 459 9mm. She turned and offered Chuck a smile. "Just let Casey and I check it out, Chuck," she said to the man with the curly brown hair and chocolate eyes in the back seat.
Sarah climbed out of the car and flicked on her flashlight, playing it across the tree line. A rising mist gave the edge of the woods an eerie look. There was a brief glint as the light was reflected back by… something. She slowly played the beam back only to catch sight of a lynx crouching low in the grass at the edge of the trees. She smiled and continued scanning the edges of the clearing.
Casey dutifully scanned the other side of the clearing before calling over his shoulder to Sarah, "Clear."
"Clear," she concurred.
They both turned to the isolated cabin. Casey motioned for Sarah to cover him as he moved slowly toward the dilapidated structure. As he placed a booted foot on the first step, there was a loud 'creak.' Casey froze in place and Sarah ducked behind the open car door. When no sound or movement answered the call of the ancient board, Casey resumed his slow creep up the steps to the porch.
Once he reached the door, he flattened himself against the wall and nodded to Sarah. She moved slowly toward the cabin, careful to avoid the step which had groaned so loudly at Casey's violation of its long slumber. Once she reached the door, she flattened herself against the opposite side of the doorframe from Casey.
When Casey nodded, she reached in her pocket and pulled out the key to the door. Slowly, cautiously, she inserted the key into the lock and carefully turned the knob. Once the knob reached the end of its arc, she glanced up and locked eyes with Casey. He nodded and held up three fingers, then two, then one.
As soon as Casey dropped the last finger, Sarah threw open the cabin door and flattened herself back against the wall next to the door. Casey exploded in a violence of movement as he burst into the cabin and quickly played the beam of his flashlight left, right, up, down, the barrel of his silenced pistol tracking the movement of the beam. Seeing no threats, he advanced cautiously into the cabin, spinning to check the sides of the door.
Sarah slipped silently through the doorway behind him and the two began a slow, methodical search of the cabin.
Chuck crouched in the back seat of the Crown Vic, trying to fold his six-foot four-inch frame as small as possible. He could swear he could hear the thump, thump, thump of his heart echoing in the narrow confines of the sedan's back seat. Every few moments, he would pop his head up and scan the trees surrounding the car, alert for the slightest threat. Every noise made him jump and jerk his head in the direction of the sound.
Finally, after what seemed to Chuck an eternity, Casey came striding out of the cabin, followed closely by Sarah. Casey covered the distance from the porch to the car in four long strides and jerked open Chuck's car door.
"You can quit hiding in the back seat, Bartowski, we're clear," he said.
Chuck slowly unfolded himself out of the car and looked around. "Where the heck are we?" he asked.
"CIA safe house," Casey offered.
"I know that," Chuck replied. "But where?"
"The Altonish National Forrest," Sarah supplied from the other side of the car.
Chuck looked dubiously at the cabin that was to be their residence for the unforeseeable future. "Not exactly the Ritz," he sighed.
"Well, if someone hadn't been flirting with Tony 'the Tiger' Scarpacci's daughter, we wouldn't have a team of mob hit men on our tail," Casey growled.
"How many times do I have to tell you, I was not flirting with her," Chuck protested. "She came on to me. I told her I already had a girlfriend." He glanced over at Sarah as if to emphasize this last.
"Beckman says that the FBI is going to take down the whole Scarpacci operation in the next two to three days," Sarah said. "We just have to lay low until then."
Chuck sighed and looked around. "This place gives me the creeps," he said. "It's like the setting for half the slasher flicks in the last twenty years. Old cabin, secluded in the woods… All we need is a couple frat boys and sorority girls as canon fodder and we're all set."
"So you're saying we should have invited your idiot brother-in-law and his pals along?" Casey replied.
"Did you just make a joke, Casey?" Chuck asked in a tone of exaggerated shock.
"You're as sharp as a marble, Bartowski," Casey said, digging out his car keys and unlocking the trunk. He fished out Sarah's duffle and sleeping bag and handed them to her, then tossed Chuck's at him just a little too hard. The duffle impacted Chuck's chest and knocked him back half a step. The sleeping bag dropped into the dirt.
"Hey!" Chuck protested.
"Knock it off, Casey," Sarah said. "Come on Chuck, let's check out the accommodations."
Casey grabbed his duffle, sleeping bag, and a bag of groceries; slammed the trunk; and winced. The Vic didn't like it when he was so rough. He ran a soothing hand along the fender, and noted with disgust the layer of dust and dirt coating his baby. "I'll give you a nice, long bath when we get back," he whispered.
Chuck looked around the cabin and promptly exploded… "Ah… ah… AH-CHOO!"
"Gesundheit," Sarah said. "It is a bit dusty, isn't it?"
Chuck pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. "If the Sahara's a bit dry or the Everglades are a bit wet," he sniffed.
He looked around the tiny cabin. A stone fireplace dominated the wall to his left. Above the fireplace was the head of a wild boar, its fake black eyes shining in the light of the lantern Sarah had given him. Its razor sharp tusks were yellowed and spotted with little dark bits that Chuck swore looked like dried blood. On the far wall, opposite the fireplace, was a small, dilapidated cot, sans mattress. A small table with three dusty chairs that looked as if they would collapse if anyone actually had the temerity to actually try sitting on them sat in one corner, while in the other corner was a small 'kitchen' - if a propane stove, a sink and a couple cabinets could be called a 'kitchen.'
Spying the glint of porcelain through a doorway in the far side of the room, Chuck sighed with relief. He had been half afraid that the bathroom would consist of a small wood building out behind the cabin with a half moon cut in the door.
He gave Sarah a wan smile. "Cozy," he said.
Sarah offered an apologetic smile of her own. "It's only for a couple days," she said.
The front door banged open and Casey strode in with his gear and the groceries. "Well, come on. Let's get settled in," he said. "Walker, put away the groceries. I'll start a fire. It's going to get chilly out here tonight."
"What about me?" Chuck asked.
"Find me some kindling," Casey said. "There's wood here, but I need some tinder to get the fire started."
"Like what?" Chuck asked.
"Weren't you ever a boy scout? Find me some paper."
"Paper, paper," Chuck muttered, looking around the cabin. Tucked away underneath the cot, he found a book. It had a strange, yellowish leather cover covered in a thick coating of dust. Chuck started to brush away the dust to reveal the title. "Necronomi..." he started to read.
Casey yanked the book out of his hands. "Give," he commanded. "I need to get this fire started. Casey opened the book and unceremoniously started to tear out pages, which he wadded up into balls and tossed in the fireplace.
"Hey," Chuck said. "That might have been valuable."
"Well, so's my comfort," Casey replied, bending down to stack logs over the paper kindling. Once finished, he fished a lighter out of his pocket and set the crumpled paper alight. It flashed and sparked wildly, and then released an odd, red flame.
Chuck frowned at the display, but Casey seemed oblivious.
Chuck shrugged and looked around. "Where's the television?" he asked.
"Well since there's no power, a TV wouldn't do you much good now, would it?"
"No electricity!" Chuck howled. "What are we going to do for three days in a cabin with no electricity?"
"Hey, Chuck," Sarah called from the corner of the cabin that served as the kitchen. "Here's a radio."
"Better than nothing, I suppose," Chuck said. He took the radio and turned it on. Fortunately, the batteries in it still had enough juice to start it up, although only static blared out of its speakers. Chuck spun the tuner until he finally found a station. It was some local call-in show called "My Soap Box." A local farmer had called in and was complaining that aliens who looked like giant, intelligent aardvarks were cownapping his livestock and turning the black and white cows white and black. Chuck fiddled with the radio some more, but couldn't find any other station. He sighed and turned the radio off.
"Great," he said. "Now what?"
Sarah finished putting away the groceries and started to unroll her sleeping bag. "We can enjoy the fire," she offered.
"Did you bring s'mores?" Chuck asked hopefully.
Sarah gave Chuck a wan smile and shook her head. "Sorry, Chuck. No s'mores."
Chuck sighed.
"I suggest we get some sleep," Casey said, unrolling his own sleeping bag.
"We're sleeping on the floor?" Chuck asked.
"You could chance the cot," Sarah offered.
Chuck eyed the cot warily. He wasn't quite sure it would support his weight and he didn't want to have it dump him on the floor in the middle of the night. "I guess the floor is fine," he said.
He unrolled his sleeping bag and started to put it next to Sarah's.
"You want to use the bathroom first?" he asked her.
"Thanks, Chuck," Sarah said, pulling a small bag from her duffle. She grabbed the lantern and stepped into the bathroom.
"I'm going to check the perimeter," Casey said to Chuck. "You stay here."
Chuck looked around the cabin and sighed again. It was going to be a very long couple of days. If only he'd had a chance to grab his book. He'd been reading Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series about Richard, the Seeker of Truth and his companion and protector, the Confessor, Kahlan. Morgan had suggested the books, but Chuck had noted a rather depressing parallel between Richard and Kahlan and he and Sarah.
The bathroom door opened and Sarah came out. "Your turn," she said. "I left the lantern in there."
"Thanks," Chuck said, grabbing his toiletries bag.
When he came out of the bathroom, he found Sarah and Casey both in their sleeping bags... and his sleeping bag between theirs. He frowned. "I don't think I want to sleep next to Casey," he whined.
"Afraid you can't keep your hands to yourself, Bartowski?" Casey asked.
"Funny, Casey," Chuck replied.
"Chuck, it's easier to protect you if we sleep on either side of you," Sarah said.
Chuck let out a long breath. "Okay, I guess. But can you and Casey switch sides? I sleep on my left side and I don't want to be looking at him all night."
"Oh for crying out loud!" Casey groused. He turned on his side and laid his head down, ending the conversation.
Sarah gave Chuck a sympathetic smile. He shrugged, pulled off his sneakers and climbed into the sleeping bag.
"Good night, Chuck," Sarah said.
"Good night, Sarah," Chuck said, smiling back at her. He looked over at Casey's back. "Good night John-boy."
He was rewarded with an unfriendly snarl.
Chuck laid awake for a long time, listening to the fire pop and hiss. Finally, his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
He was in the Buy More, but it was dark and an eerie mist covered the floor.
"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing loudly through the cavernous store. "Anybody here?"
There was no reply. He looked around. "Creepy," he said in his sing-song voice. "So creepy."
He started to move cautiously through the empty store, trying to figure out what was going on.
In his peripheral vision, he caught a flash of movement off to his left. He turned, but didn't see anything. "Morgan?" he asked. "Jeff? Lester?"
There was another quick bit of movement off to his right and he spun again. "Sarah?" he asked nervously. His heart was beating faster now and his mouth had gone dry.
"Get a hold of yourself, Chuck," he whispered. "It's just a dream."
"Yes, a dream," a voice hissed from behind him.
Chuck spun around to find himself face-to-face with a horribly burned man with a beat-up black hat and a red and black striped shirt. Chuck's eyes went wide and he started to back-pedal.
"And now you're mine!" the man cried. He raised his hand - each finger was tipped with a long knife-like blade.
Chuck screamed his girlish scream and tried to run, but his feet seemed to be glued to the floor.
The man laughed maniacally and lifted his hand higher, preparing to strike.
Suddenly, there was a loud 'Blam!' 'Blam!' 'Blam!' Blood appeared on the front of the crazed lunatic's shirt. His eyes registered profound surprise - just before he toppled forward and hit the floor with a 'Thud.'
Sarah Walker was standing behind him, a thin stream of smoke rising from the barrel of the gun she held in both hands, pointing exactly where the man's back had been. She lowered the gun and stepped over the body. She walked over to Chuck and laid a hand gently against his cheek. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"You... you saved me," Chuck said. "Even here... In my dream… You saved me."
Sarah smiled. "I told you before, Chuck. I will always be here to protect you. Even in your dreams."
"Thank you," Chuck whispered, noticing with delight that Sarah was now stroking his cheek.
Sarah smiled and leaned forward, her lips closer and closer to his. He leaned forward and closed his eyes in anticipation...
"Snaaarrrrkkkkllll!"
Chuck jerked awake.
"Snaaarrrrkkkkllll!" Casey snorted again, the noise loud enough, Chuck decided, to wake the dead.
"Great timing, Casey," Chuck sighed. He poked Casey in the back so he would stop snoring.
Casey grunted and rolled over.
Chuck turned and looked at Sarah. She was still sleeping, her face peaceful in her quiet repose. The corners of her mouth were turned up in the barest hint of a smile. Chuck reached over and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
Crunch!
Chuck sat up.
Crunch!
The noise was coming from outside.
Chuck poked Casey.
"Wake up!" Chuck hissed. "Casey! Wake up!"
One moment Casey was asleep. The next, the barrel of a Sig Sauer hovered millimeters from Chuck's nose. Chuck crossed his eyes, trying to look at the end of the barrel.
"Casey!" Sarah's whisper was like a rifle shot.
Casey slowly lowered the gun. "Are you trying to get your head blown off, Bartowski?" he snarled.
"I heard something outside," Chuck said, trying to swallow hard enough to force his heart back down into his chest.
"I don't..." Sarah started to say.
Crunch!
Sarah and Casey were both on their feet in an instant.
"You guard Bartowski. I'll check outside," Casey whispered.
"No!" Chuck cried. Casey glared at him and Chuck lowered his voice to a whisper. "Haven't you ever seen any of the Friday the Thirteenth movies? The guy who goes outside to check on the noise outside the spooky cabin in the woods never comes back."
Casey rolled his eyes. "You watch the little girl," he said to Sarah. "I'll go out the back, circle around front, and see what it is. I'll knock three times before I come through the door."
"Got it," Sarah whispered.
Casey tip-toed to the back of the cabin and opened one of the windows with a grunt of effort.
"This is a bad idea," Chuck said.
Sarah shook her head, indicating this wasn't the time to argue. "Chuck, you get behind me," she whispered.
Casey slipped out of the window and into the darkness outside.
"Such a bad idea," Chuck muttered.
Chuck tried hard to take deep slow breaths. His eyes were riveted to the door. A minute passed. Then two.
There was a blood-curdling scream from outside. Two shots rang out.
Suddenly, the door to the cabin burst open and a huge man charged in. His face was covered by an old-fashioned hockey mask and he held a knife in his up-raised hand, the firelight glinting off the blood-stained blade.
Blam! Blam!
Sarah put one shot through each eye-hole of the hockey mask.
The giant jerked backward, and then slowly toppled forward like a felled tree. He hit the floor so hard the floorboards gave a loud 'crack!'
An instant later, Casey appeared in the doorway.
Sarah jerked her gun up and pointed it at the ceiling, away from her partner.
"What happened?" she asked calmly.
Casey stepped into the cabin and kicked at the still form of the massive killer. He looked at Sarah and shrugged. "He took one look at me, screamed, and ran. I put two warning shots in his back, but he refused to halt and ran into the cabin."
"Okay," Sarah said. "Drag him outside. We'll dispose of the body in the morning."
Casey grabbed the giant's feet and started dragging him out the door.
"Well," Sarah said, turning to Chuck, "I guess we know what the noise was. Let's get some sleep."
"But... But... But..." Chuck stammered.
Casey strode back in. "Now, maybe we can get some sleep," he grunted.
"But... But... But..." Chuck stammered.
He was interrupted by a mechanical roar from outside.
"Now what?" Sarah asked, rolling her eyes.
The roar grew louder. Sarah and Casey both turned to the door.
The door burst open again and a man with a white, leathery face leapt into the room. He was waving a chainsaw over his head.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Sarah's two rounds hit the leather-faced man right between the eyes. Casey's two rounds plowed into the chainsaw, which quickly sputtered to a halt. The man sputtered to a halt as well, and then toppled forward and hit the floor, face first.
Sarah turned to Casey and frowned. "The chainsaw?" she asked.
"I thought it would keep us awake," Casey shrugged.
Sarah shook her head and stuck her gun back in her waistband. "I suppose you can put him with the other one."
"Okay," Casey said, and started dragging the man out.
"But... But... But..." Chuck continued to stammer.
"Chuck," Sarah said softly, gently laying a hand on his cheek. "It's okay. Try and get some sleep."
"But... But... But..."
"Walker," Casey yelled from outside. "We've got company."
"Stay here," Sarah told Chuck. She reached behind her and pulled her gun again, then strode out the front door.
Chuck looked around the cabin nervously, and then stumbled toward the front door.
Casey was standing over the two bodies. He had his weapon drawn. Sarah stood on the cabin's porch, her weapon likewise at the ready.
Three figures glided toward the cabin. They wore long, black dusters that billowed and flowed behind them, even though there was no wind.
Casey leveled his gun and shot the leftmost figure square in the center of its chest. The figure staggered for a moment, and then continued to walk toward the cabin. Sarah took aim and squeezed off two rounds into the chest of the center figure. It paused a moment, shook its head, and then continued forward.
"Damn," Sarah said. She slipped her gun back into her waistband, spun quickly, and executed a perfect roundhouse kick, connecting squarely with one of the posts holding up the porch roof. A piece of the wood splintered off and went whirling end-over-end off the porch. Sarah leapt forward and in one fluid motion grabbed the spinning splinter of wood from the air, spun around, and jammed it into the chest of the right-most figure. There was a soft 'whoosh' and the figure disintegrated into a cloud of dust.
Now the figures were close enough that Chuck could see that the figures' faces were grotesquely distorted parodies of human faces. The figures hissed their defiance, barring long, sharp fangs.
The two vampires split, circling around to Sarah's right and left, trying to flank her. Sarah leapt up, planted a kick in the center of one's chest and used the resulting momentum to catapult her toward the other. She plunged the stake into the heart of the startled figure, which likewise disappeared in a shower of dust.
Without slowing, Sarah spun around and threw the stake like a knife into the chest of the last vamp. It, too, vanished into moonlit swirls of dust.
"Sarah," Chuck gasped. "Sarah, that was..."
Sarah shrugged. "What?" she asked. "I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
"Josh Wedon is a genius," Casey muttered.
"Excuse us," a voice called from the darkness. Two more figures glided forward. They had pale skin, perfect hair and haughty expressions. "Like, we're vampires, too," the right-most figure said. "But we, like, don't want to drink your blood or anything. We want to get to know you and..."
Blam! Blam!
The two new vampires' heads exploded into a spray of blood, bone and brain matter.
Chuck and Sarah spun around to look at Casey, who held a smoking, sawed off, double-barrel shotgun.
"I hate pretty-boy vampires," he grunted.
Sarah shrugged. "Well," she said, "Now maybe we can get some sleep around..."
She was interrupted by a low, rumbling moan. She, Chuck and Casey all turned to see a large, seething mass of bodies shuffling slowly toward them. In the still air, you could just make out the one word they all seemed to be moaning: "Braaaaaaiiiiiiins."
Sarah whipped out her gun and started shooting the closest zombies. Casey was a hair slower, his Sig popping off 'crack' 'crack' 'crack', each shot slamming into a zombie forehead.
Sarah's pistol clicked empty. She reached behind her and, seemingly out of nowhere, pulled out a pump-action shotgun. With a 'Click-Clack-Bang!' 'Click-Clack-Bang!' she started back to blasting zombies.
Casey's gun likewise clicked empty. He dropped it, reached behind his back, pulled out a chain gun, and with a 'Brrrrpppp' 'Brrrrppp' began mowing down zombies by the score.
Sarah's shotgun clicked empty. She threw it at the closest zombie, reached behind her and pulled out a plasma cannon. An arc of blue light leapt from the end of the weapon, frying zombies right and left.
But they kept coming.
"There're too many of them!" Casey shouted. "Chuck! Run! Save yourself!"
"Wait!" Chuck called. "I have an idea! Throw me the keys to the Vic!"
Casey one-handed the chain gun and tossed Chuck the keys. They spun and glittered in a tumbling arc toward Chuck. He snatched them out of the air and ran toward the Crown Vic. He dove inside, slammed the door, and hit the locks.
Zombies surrounded the car and started slowly, methodically, beating on the windows. "Braaaaiiiins," they moaned.
Chuck reached in his pocket and pulled out his iPod. He quickly scanned through his Halloween playlist until he found the song he was looking for. Then he jammed the iPod into the iPod dock he had cajoled Casey into installing in the Vic. Chuck started the car and cranked the Vic's stereo as loud as it would go.
It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark...
The zombies suddenly stopped and started to twitch.
Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart...
The zombies were forming a line now, and started slowly shuffling back and forth.
You try to scream, but terror takes your sound before you make it...
The zombies were dancing now, their shambling movements replaced by crisp choreography.
Chuck threw open the Vic's doors. "Get in!" he cried.
Sarah and Casey threaded their way through the dancing zombies. Casey pushed Chuck over and climbed behind the wheel. Sarah jumped in the back seat.
Sarah leaned from the back seat into the front and smiled at Chuck. "My hero," she swooned.
Chuck smiled and leaned forward to kiss her...
And sat up suddenly in his own bed, his sheets bathed in sweat.
"What?!" he cried, shaking his fist at the heavens. "You couldn't let me get the kiss at least once?"
"But that would destroy the Unresolved Sexual Tension," came a voice from the other side of the room. It sounded surreal, as if composed of a myriad of different voices all speaking together.
Chuck started and looked over to see a strange figure sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. The figure's form seemed to blur and shift - now male, now female, now tall, now short, now thin, now obese.
"Who... who are you?" Chuck asked.
"I am the Fan Fic Author, and we are legion," the figure said.
"What... What are you doing here?" Chuck asked.
"I was considering a self-insertion fic," the FFA said.
"A what?" Chuck asked.
The FFA continued as if it had not heard him: "Then I thought about maybe a Mary Sue fic," it said. "But I get the most hits from Charah fics, so I guess we'll turn this into a Charah fic."
"Charah?" Chuck asked.
The FFA laughed, its laugh a combination of chortles, cackles, guffaws, snickers, and every other conceivable expression of mirth. "Charah," it said. "Chuck and Sarah together."
Chuck brightened.
"Then maybe after I get you and Sarah together," the FFA continued, "I'll do a Chill fic and get you and Jill back together. Then maybe some slash and put you and Casey together." The FFA's voice was growing louder, more maniacal. "Then I'll put Casey and Ellie together. Then Sarah and Jeff..."
Thwack!
The FFA slumped forward. A black-handled throwing knife protruded from its back, the handle still vibrating slightly from the force of impact.
Chuck turned. Sarah was crouched in the Morgan Door, dressed all in black. "I draw the line at Jerah fics," she said with a shudder.
"Sarah, thank God you're here. I've been having the weirdest dreams," Chuck said. "I suppose this is another one."
Sarah slowly climbed into bed, straddling Chuck. "So what makes these dreams so weird?" she asked, slowly sliding her body against his. "Are there... any parts of them you like?" Her voice was husky, her breath tickling his face.
"Um, well," Chuck said, drawing in a nervous breath as Sarah's face hovered inches away from his own. "You... you were in them."
"Uh huh," Sarah said, leaning even closer. "And?"
Chuck leaned up to press his lips against hers...
And sat up suddenly in his own bed, his sheets bathed in sweat.
"Damn!" he cried. "Not again!"
"What's the matter, snookums?" came a voice from the other side of the bed.
Chuck turned to see a naked Casey propped up on one elbow, smiling at him.
This time, Chuck's screams didn't end.
Author's Note: Happy Halloween!
Author's Note 2: Blame Poa.
Author's Note 3: Hidden in the story are references to the authors from the Authors Intersect Round Robin project, of which I am a member.. Did you find them all?