Happy Halloween, my dearest readers!
This fic is mildly violent. You have been warned, dudes. If this kind of thing offends you, please go on and read some other fics.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TOTAL DRAMA.
The night was dark, and the campers sat around the campfire, telling each other about their deepest, darkest fears.
"What's my worst fear?" Gwen pondered on the question before shuddering slightly. "I guess...being buried alive."
Lindsay also shivered, a truly terrified look on her face. "Walking through a minefield. In heels."
None of the teenagers noticed a camera perched on the a tree branch, surreptitiously recording everything that they were saying. It whirred silently, and continued getting the footage.
Meanwhile, Chef Hatchet yawned as he went to the control room to refill his coffee cup. For some reason, Chris liked to keep all the coffee in the control room, probably so he could drink a facsimile of his favorite Starbucks latte while laughing at the campers during their supposedly embarrassing moments of privacy.
When he got there, he spotted someone perched in front of the computer monitors, watching as the campers discussed their phobias. It was impossible to see what the figure's face, because all the lights were off. However, his silhouette was illuminated by the dim light of the computer monitors.
"Flying, man," Owen said, presumably unaware that he was being filmed. The huge blond boy sported a look of terror on his face before adding, "That's some crazy stuff."
Izzy had an uncharacteristic look of fear on her wild green eyes. "Ha, I would never go up in a plane. Never."
"Chris? Man, what are you doing here?" Chef squinted at the silhouette.
The dark figure didn't respond. It was motionless, watching the footage of the teenagers.
Chef shrugged. He walked into the room, not even bothering to turn the lights on, since he knew his way around the place by heart. The burly man went to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup of scalding black coffee.
The video continued to play. "I'm scared of hail," Geoff muttered, looking abashed. "It's small...but deadly, dude."
"Chef!" a nasally voice yelled, seemingly from a long distance away. "Can ya get me my hair gel? It's in the bathroom!"
Chef nearly dropped his mug. "Chris?" he shouted back. "Where the hell are you?"
"What do you mean?" Chris demanded loudly. "I'm in the spa, remember? Wasn't somebody supposed to give me a massage?"
Warily, Chef turned around.
"I'm not really afraid of anything," Courtney stated haughtily. The video suddenly stopped...and rewinded, for some reason. "...not afraid of anything...not afraid of anything..."
The figure's attention had left the confessions of the teenage contestants. Chef Hatchet could make out his head, which had swiveled to face him. The figure's eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Quick as a flash, Chef set his coffee mug down, ran to the front of the room, and switched the lights on.
The chair overlooking the computer monitors was empty. The footage played on cheerfully, eerily showing the slightly distorted faces of the contestants.
Nobody was there.
The next day, all campers were groggy from staying up late the previous night. They all sat down at their respective tables, eating what might be qualified as 'breakfast.'
"I wonder the lame challenge is today," Heather sniffed, as if she couldn't care less. The raven-haired girl picked at her food, looking disgusted. She rolled her eyes. "I bet it's going to be so hard."
Gwen sighed. "Heather, I'm not really in the mood for you today. It's too early."
Heather sneered. "Well, I'm not really in the mood for you...ever." She crossed her arms and glared down at the table.
"Hey, chill out," Trent chided, rubbing Gwen's back reassuringly. "I'm sure Chris is gonna be here soon to tell us about our challenge."
As if Trent were psychic, Chris suddenly walked in, a broad smile on his face. "Campers," he announced. "Your next challenge is a little something I'd like to call...Phobia Factor. Prepare to face your worst fears!"
Leshawna wrinkled her nose, holding out a revolting chunk of something from her plate. "Worse than this?"
Chris grinned, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. "Much worse."
Chef eyed Chris suspiciously, but complied when he was asked to give Tyler the chicken. Then Chris called the campers out to face their various fears.
"But here's the twist," Chris said. "You won't be watched by your teammates. So, unless your fears are somewhat related to each other, you'll have to do the challenge alone." The host laughed.
Bridgette frowned. "Why?"
"Won't be a problem for me, anyway," Gwen muttered, "I mean, I'm going to be alone either way...underground."
Chef's suspicion grew. Chris never informed him about that little tidbit. Still, he decided against questioning him about it, and continued cooking the dishes.
"Oh, you'll see," Chris said. A smirk played at his lips.
It was finally time to begin.
"Ready for your challenge, Beth?" Chris asked. Instead of the sandy beach, like how everyone had their challenges, hers was in the middle of the forest.
As promised, her teammates didn't accompany her to face her fear. To be honest, Beth was glad. The last thing she needed was Heather pressuring her to 'win it for the team' or something.
But that didn't change the fact that she was going to face her fear. She peered at the pool of worms and took a deep breath. "I guess so," she replied. "But...you do know that worms aren't really bugs, right?"
A look of irritation flashed at Chris's face. "Don't worry. You'll find something else under there."
The brace-faced girl cringed. That wasn't exactly comforting. She laughed nervously, spewing the host with saliva. "Okay, then."
She reluctantly lowered herself on the kiddie pool. Sure enough, it wasn't just worms. There were other creepy crawlies down there.
They wriggled against Beth's skin, crawled into her clothes.
"Get under," Chris instructed. "You have to get to the other side of the pool."
Beth lowered herself further, putting her head down. She imagined herself as a worm and began crawling to the end.
Her hand smacked around the base of the pool, trying to feel her way to the end of the pool. Suddenly, her hand felt something...hollow.
Beth tensed, and hesitantly crawled forward. She was officially in the middle of the pool of bugs. Something didn't feel right. Why was the base of the pool hollow?
She got her answer soon enough. The rubbery base of the pool was fragile, and it soon gave out...and she fell down a hole.
Beth screamed as she fell down a few meters. She flailed her arms, but all she succeeded to do was expose herself to the bugs.
Finally, the drop ended. Beth fell the bottom of the hole and got impaled by sharp objects that were conveniently there. Shards of glass, forks, knives...and they were all pointing upward.
Blood began to flow. Beth's body remained in the dark chasm, but at least the bugs had a feast that night.
Lindsay and Sadie had a long and pointless conversation about boys, movie stars, and beauty products as they waited.
"I wonder what our challenge is?" Lindsay asked Sadie.
Sadie frowned. "Um...like, our biggest fear are bad haircuts, so I guess our challenge will, like, be about bad haircuts."
"What?" Lindsay said in alarm. She gripped her long blond hair. "But I like my hair! I won't have it cut off! That's like...horrorful!"
Sadie's eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh. Me, too!" She paused. "Maybe they'll just make us wear wigs or something." She hugged herself. "But still! That's awful, and it would make us look ugly. I miss Katie!"
"I miss my pumps, and my boots, and my cute little tank top that I got from Paris!" Lindsay wailed.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of something whirring to life.
"What's that?" Lindsay asked.
Sadie scratched her head. "It sounds like my Dad's woodshop. He, like, makes furniture there!"
"Like, that's so cool!" Lindsay gushed. She frowned. "So...what's making that sound?"
Sadie was about to reply, but her eyes widened. "L-Lindsay?"
The blonde stared at the shorter girl's horrified face. "What?" She gasped, "Is someone wearing pink with red? 'Cause those colors totally clash with each other! Ew!"
Sadie finally turned Lindsay's head. They faced a really tall man.
He wore a black ski mask, with a black turtleneck and black jeans. In his hands, he carried...
Lindsay looked confused. "Are you supposed to be the barber?"
The masked man raised his chainsaw.
"Lindsay!" Sadie screamed, tugging at the blonde's arm.
"At least his outfit is kind of cute," Lindsay chattered on. "Like, they say green is the new black, but I think black is the, like, original black..."
Sadie screamed as the masked man hacked Lindsay's scalp off with his chainsaw. Blood and blond hair flew everywhere, and the chainsaw was also lowered to her neck, chopping the remnants of her head off. Lindsay's head bounced uselessly off the bench they were sitting on. Her blue eyes stared vacantly at the sky, much like how it did when she was still alive.
Sadie screamed in horror as the chainsaw lowered itself to her scalp. Pretty soon, she got what she dreaded.
A bad haircut.
Gwen was lowered into the sand.
Her teeth were chattering, her nails were digging into her palms. "I don't think I can do this," she muttered.
She was locked up in a Plexiglas box, and it was driving her insane. Somehow, she thought that being in a coffin might be better than being trapped in a transparent box.
At least she wouldn't be able to make out the things underneath the sand.
Gwen sighed, shutting her eyes. She wished that she had a walkie-talkie of some sort, to reassure that she was actually still alive and not dead. Maybe she could have used it to talk to Trent.
At least she wasn't buried that deeply underground. The sand was drifting past every now and then, and tiny bits of sunlight shone through, like hope.
RRRR-RRRR.
Gwen jerked, raising her head slightly. "What the hell was that?" she muttered. She tensed, waiting for the sound again, but it was gone.
The goth girl sighed in relief. She hated ambiguity, and being under here supplied that. To her, that was much worse than, say, a masked psycho killer knocking on your door. At least you know that a psycho killer was going to come after you. But there's no way of knowing what's going to happen when you're under the sand, far away from outside world.
RRRR-RRRR-RRRR!
The sound was back, and much louder this time. Gwen frowned. The sound was kind of familiar. It reminded her of the days when she had to hang out in her uncle's farm—
Wait. Gwen almost sat up, before remembering that she was in a box. That sound from her uncle's farm was caused by the really loud tractor he drove.
Tractor?
She didn't have time to think. Suddenly, the edge of the glass began to break, filling her Plexiglas box with sand, as if something was crushing it from above.
As if someone was slowly driving a tractor. Very slowly.
Gwen's eyes shot open as the sand began to enter her box. She quickly hugged her knees, trying to get away from the sand that threatened to consume her.
More glass continued to break, getting nearer to her body this time. She hugged her legs closer to her.
"HELP!" she yelled, as more sand and shards of glass began to flood in. "Chris? What the hell is happening?"
The glass, being rather fragile, began to crack again, and this time, Gwen wasn't spared. Her legs were impaled with glass, and whatever force was up there was also aiming to her legs.
"Oh, my God," Gwen breathed. Excruciating pain shot up her entire body as what she assumed was a heavy wheel began to move forward. Her legs were completely crushed, bone and all, and she felt pain that she never felt before.
Tears began to fill her eyes, and suddenly she was dead, impaled by glass, crushed by a heavy wheel, and disembodied.
On the bright side, though?
At least she wasn't buried alive any more.
Trent sat on the dock, nervously strumming his guitar, which Chris grudgingly allowed him to bring.
He was waiting for his greatest fear to come. The musician took a deep breath, wishing that he could overcome his phobia of mimes.
It was stupid. A mime was basically just a person in drag. Black and white drag, but drag nevertheless.
Trent set his guitar down, no longer able to take this.
Where was that stupid mime, anyway?
Trent absently fingered the nine strings on his guitar. He glanced around the area, waiting for the mime to appear.
The dark-haired young man's gaze traveled all over the area...and there he was.
The mime stood a few meters away, surrounded by trees. He wore a black suspenders with a black-and-white striped shirt. A black hat sat on his slicked-back dark hair, and of course, his face was painted with black and white. Typical mime outfit.
But there was something unsettling about him. Perhaps it was because of his vapid, blank gaze. Perhaps it was because of the fact that he was so motionless, he could be a statue.
Or perhaps, it was because he was grinning.
His teeth, as one may expect, was a brilliant pearl-white, looking even whiter by comparison to his lips, which were colored black. The lively grin did not go with his eyes, which were dull and lifeless.
Trent cleared his throat, trying not to avert his gaze. "Um, hey there...mime."
The mime made no reply. Trent remembered that mimes don't talk, duh. The mimicked your actions. Hesitantly, the guitarist raised his arm.
The mime followed suit.
Trent shook his leg.
Predictably, the mime copied his actions. Although his face never moved. He just gazed at Trent, grinning yet...he looked so very dead.
Something inside Trent snapped. He remembered his mother, leaving him in a place full of mimes. Those mimes lifelessly gazed at him, mirroring all the things he did, like shadows.
Shadows...
Uttering a cry, Trent grabbed his nine-stringed guitar and threw it at the mime. The mime, not missing a beat, pantomimed his actions, throwing something imaginary at him.
All the guitar strings snapped, scarring the mime's face. Blood streaked his painted features.
For a while, Trent was triumphant. Then he felt something warm on his face. He raised his hand and saw blood. A lot of blood.
That didn't make sense. The guitar with the snapped strings lay on the feet of the mime. Nothing struck him on the face, as far as he knew.
The mime's face was bloody, but he smiled. And for some reason, Trent smiled as well.
Grinning, the mime skipped happily to the lake. Trent followed, also skipping like a little child. Their faces never ceased to drop the happy grins that they sported, even though blood and pieces of flesh were coming off.
The mime jumped to the like, and stayed underwater.
Trent followed suit, though his mind was telling him otherwise. The mime didn't submerge, so neither did he.
Owen stared at the airplane, a look of absolute fright on his features. Izzy, who would normally be doing crazy things, mirrored his expression.
Owen had aerophobia, and Izzy was basically just scared of planes. Just planes. Not helicopters, or jets. One time, she attacked her four-year-old cousin who was playing with a toy airplane. It wasn't pretty.
"Where's Chef?" Owen asked nervously. "Isn't he supposed to be flying this thing for us?"
Izzy shook her head furiously. "No, no, no! Izzy won't get into the plane. I'd rather be eaten by a bear! Or eat a bear! Yeah, that sounds so much better."
Suddenly, the plane began to move.
"Hey!" Owen said. "Is Chef inside?"
Izzy's green eyes were wide with fear. "P-Plane! Get a-away!" With a yowl, the psycho hose beast began to run away. Owen followed suit, screaming like a maniac.
It was like a wild goose chase between the plane, which was mysteriously moving on its own, and the two teens, who were still screeching their heads off.
And soon...they were literally screeching their heads off, for the propeller got too close to them.
The fan effect involved heads, limbs, and blood being sprayed all throughout the woods, like a breakfast-in-bed for the hungry wild animals...
Harold sat on the toilet, reading his favorite comic book.
Sure, there was a challenge, but GOSH, he needed a to take a leak. Then the leak turned into...well...
The ninjas sneaked up to him. He tried to defend himself with his mad skills of nunchucks, but failed.
He was sliced with a katana two seconds later, and the ninjas left. And the bathroom was messy with blood. Guts were strewn all over the the bathroom mirror, and Harold's glasses embedded itself into his eyes. His nunchucks were shoved into his lower abdomen.
That was fast...
Leshawna and Heather had to face their fears at the same time.
"Why?" Heather sniffed, tossing her dark hair. "It's not like we have the same fear or anything." She placed her hands firmly on her hips. "In fact, my fear is much scarier than your lame little fear of spiders."
Leshawna rolled her eyes. "Girl, can't you stop being a bitch for just one second?"
"Only if you stop being a ghetto rap star wannabe for a minute," Heather shot back. Irritably, she stomped her wedge heels on the ground. "Where is Chris? I don't have all day."
Suddenly, something was rolling their way. Literally rolling.
"OH MY GOD!" Heather screeched, her gray eyes widening in fear.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Leshawna yelled at the same time.
For once, the girls had a mutual agreement with each other. They ran away, screaming at the top of their lungs.
It was useless. All their efforts were unnecessary.
They were flattened to the ground in a few seconds, by a 1000-pound sumo wrestler in a spider outfit.
They were dead soon after, holding each other like friends instead of sworn enemies.
Tyler hated chickens. That much was clear.
DJ disliked snakes. They gave him the heebie-jeebies.
And yet, both of them stood next to each other, looking for their personal phobias.
"Why are we doing the challenge together?" Tyler was confused. "We don't have the same fear."
DJ shrugged, looking fidgety. "I don't know, man. Maybe it has something to do with animals and stuff. We both have fear that's animal-related."
"Oh." Tyler was silent. Then he added, "So why are we looking for our fears and stuff again?"
DJ sighed. "Because we need to win the challenge, man. Now I'll go look for a chicken while you look for a s-s-s-s-s—"
The wannabe jock patted his friend's back reassuringly. "Don't worry, bro. I'll look for a really teeny one, so you won't be scared." He swallowed. "And can you look for a chick?"
"Dude!" DJ whispered loudly. "This isn't time to be thinking about girls! And I thought you were with Lindsay?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa...chicks as in, like, baby chickens, dude. You know the small ones that are really cute and..." The jock gulped again. "Really scary?"
"Oh. Okay."
They parted ways, DJ in search for a chicken and Tyler looking for a snake.
Tyler crawled the area, looking for a snake. It shouldn't have been hard, he reasoned. After all, he saw snakes all the time.
DJ also crawled around for a chicken.
Neither of them had much luck.
"Wanna call it quits?" DJ asked finally. "I don't think I can do this no more."
"Yeah, dude, me neither," Tyler sighed.
They stood in an awkward silence.
"What about the challenge, though?" Tyler asked.
As they were speaking, a few snakes slithered to them. Neither of them noticed the reptiles.
They didn't notice the rattles on their tails either.
"So, what do you think..." DJ trailed of, and the bigger guy frowned. "I think there's something on my leg." His eyelids shot up. "There's something in my leg, bro, there's something on my leg!" DJ was nearly hysterical, pulling at his hair and all. But he daren't move, and he was too terrified to look down.
Tyler frowned and looked down at his feet. Unexpectedly, he laughed.
"What?!" DJ half-yelled at him.
"Dude," Tyler scoffed. "It's just a plant." He reached down to brush it off. "Chill out."
DJ was panting, but he forced a wheezy laugh. "Uh, yeah. Just got it confused for a—" His eyes shot open again as something bit his calf. "Oh my..." He doubled over in agonizing pain, to which Tyler watched him with horrified eyes.
"Deej." Tyler said slowly. "There's a...rattlesnake...on...your leg."
DJ wanted to politely push him over, but he was in too much pain. "Tyler..." DJ choked out. "Run, dude."
"I'll go get help—" Something sank its teeth into Tyler's arm, and the jock gasped in pain. "Oh, God."
Both of them just lay there in disbelief and agony. "I'm sorry for...stealing your breakfast," Tyler wheezed, trying to distract himself from the pain...and the fact that the snake was crawling up his ear.
"I'm sorry...for making out with Lindsay." DJ squeezed his eyes shut as the snake began to slither up his nose.
"You...WHAT?" Tyler asked, forgetting about the pain.
DJ chuckled, though it was forced. "She thought I was you. I tried to push her off, but she's strong bro..."
"I...can't...believe...you'd...do...that...to...me ..." Tyler groaned. The snake was biting his neck this time like a leech. Or Lindsay.
Suddenly, a cluck was heard. A few chickens sauntered over to the duo, looking pleased. As pleased as a chicken could look anyway.
The snakes slithered away, as if they were scared of the birds.
"Tyler..." DJ muttered. "We're saved. We're—"
Each of the chickens took turns pecking their eyes out.
The former CIT stood in terror as she faced a pool of green jelly. "This sucks," she muttered.
Where was Chris, anyway? The host excused himself suddenly, and now she was here, all alone. Rubbing her elbow, wishing that she had some sort of moral support, even from that stupid delinquent, Duncan.
Courtney brushed the brown hair from her forehead and took a deep breath. She positioned herself to jump, and once again gave a nervous glance at the place.
"Wait...if no one is watching me, then why am I even doing this?" Courtney muttered, straightening up. She sighed and averted her gaze from the glistening pool that was the same color as snot. It was petrifying.
Maybe the cameras were taking a video of this. Courtney nodded. Yeah, that was probably it.
Before she could do anything, however, a loud scream cut through the serenity of the forest like a knife. Courtney teetered at the edge of the diving board, nearly falling off. "What the hell?" she screamed.
The screaming stopped. "Courtney?" a voice shouted.
The girl snorted. No way. "Duncan? Is that you?"
The delinquent was suddenly visible. He ran towards Courtney, his pupils dilated in fear. "Courtney," Duncan gasped. "Something horrible happened."
Courtney peered at him. "What is it, Neanderthal?" She pretended to be peeved, but in reality, she was grateful for the disruption. She couldn't bear to look at the pool of green jelly again.
"The standee," Duncan gasped. "Something was..."
"Yes, the Celine Dion standee," Courtney deadpanned. "What happened? Did you break it or something?"
Duncan was trembling like a leaf, anf Courtney felt a spark of concern. "Just tell me, Duncan," she prodded, trying to sound soothing.
"It...moved, Court," Duncan choked out. "I looked at her...and she smiled at me. I'm pretty sure she wasn't smiling before, she had on this weird pouty face, but now..."
Courtney snorted in laughter. "Are you kidding me?" she gasped out between laughs. "That's what you're concerned about? You were just hallucinating or something. Anyway, it's made of cardboard, hooligan." She rolled her eyes at him. "Get real, would you? Even if it were alive, it won't hurt you." She giggled again. "Maybe it would give you a papercut, but I don't think it could get any worse than that."
"That's...that's what you think." Duncan was sweating. "It's just so...scary, Court."
The genuine fear in his eyes made Courtney's derision fade. "Hey, Duncan," Courtney said. "If you jump this with me, I'll help you face the really scary Celine Dion standee." She rolled her eyes, and added, "Would you like that?"
Duncan calmed down somewhat. "Fine," he mumbled. He climbed the ladder and positioned himself behind her.
"On the count of three," Courtney instructed. "We'll leap together."
"Sure, sure, Princess," Duncan muttered.
"One...two...three...GO!" And with that, they jumped.
Courtney had the most revolting sensation. It was just so gross, being stuck under all that muck. But she felt comforted by Duncan's strong grip on her arm.
Then it dawned to her. She did it! She whooped, forgetting that she was under the disgusting green substance.
Wow, the brunette thought. This thing is deeper than I thought.
Still, she shrugged it off, gripped Duncan's hand, and swam to get back to the surface. She kicked and kicked again.
Nothing was happening.
Weird, Courtney commented. She got used to the feel of the green jelly, but it was still gross. She kicked harder, trying to swim back to the surface.
Nothing.
What! Courtney was beginning to suffocate. She flailed her arms and whipped her legs, trying to resurface, to no avail.
Her eyes widened, and in the dark muck, she could make out Duncan having the same terrified expression as she.
They weren't resurfacing. How was that even possible? Simultaneously, they both kicked and thrashed, but nothing was happening.
It was almost as if...something was pulling them down.
Courtney closed her eyes, and all the air left her system. Duncan tried to save her and himself, but he suffocated as well.
They have been under the jelly for almost two hours, and it was evident that neither of them were alive.
On the edge of the pool, there stood the cardboard Celine. Instead of her usual singing posture, her lips were parted in a wide 'O,' as if she were truly surprised for the tragedy of the situation.
Bridgette stayed in the forest, taking deep breaths. "You can do this, Bridge," she murmured to herself.
The sky was dimming, showing that the night was beginning to arrive. She hugged herself, trying to think of warm, happy thoughts, like surfing. Or puppies. Or...being mauled by a sharp-toothed creature with—
Stop it, Bridgette scolded herself.
The shadows of the trees lengthened, informing her that it was getting much later.
"C'mon, Bridgette," she whispered. "Win it for your team."
An owl hooted in the darkness. Something hissed behind the bushes. A howl pierced the silence of the night. The surfer girl stared at a log, trying to ignore the goosebumps settling on her arms and legs.
"Bridge?" a voice said quietly.
Bridgette bit back a scream. Cautiously, she raised her head. "Geoff!" she ran to him and gave him a hug. "Thank God. I was so scared. I don't think I can do this." She spoke in a broken way. Then she took a deep breath. "But you can't be here."
"Why not, dude?"
"Six hour seclusion, remember?" Bridgette sighed. "Which means, I have to stay here until..." The blonde checked her watch. She gulped. "Midnight."
"What?" Geoff stared at her. "That's bullshit, Bridge. Something horrible could happen to you!"
"How couldn't it?" Bridgette joked weakly. "This is Total Drama, remember?"
"Bridge." Geoff's blue eyes looked serious for once, and Bridgette was dreading another awkward love confession. What he said next was unexpected.
"Something weird is going on," Geoff continued. "I can't find anybody else."
"We have to do our challenges individually, so...they're probably in the cabins or something."
The party boy shook his head. "Everyone is gone. I heard weird sounds all over the place, and I'm sure as hell that I heard a few screams, too." He looked her dead in the eyes. "And Chef...well, he actually told me something."
"He did?"
Geoff sighed. "Yep. He was actually nice enough to send me to you, since...well, I don't know. But I have to go back soon for my challenge. Anyway, Chef said that Chris has gone nuts."
Bridgette cracked a smile. "What's new? Geoff, I'm sure that there's nothing to worry about." She hugged him reassuringly, which caught the blond guy off-guard.
"Bridge." Geoff stared into her lime green eyes.
"What?" The surfer was a bit unnerved by his gaze.
Geoff wrapped his arms around her again. "I think..."
Before he could continue, his eyes widened in horror as hail began to fall from the sky. He abruptly let go of Bridgette and set his arms rigidly to his sides. Without another word, he fainted.
Bridgette remembered his hail phobia and grimaced. "Oh, man."
A pellet of ice hit her on the shoulder, which definitely stung. Quickly, she wrapped her arm around the petrified blond boy and tried to find shelter.
The hail fell more and more, to the point that Bridgette had a hard time seeing anything.
Chris must be behind this, the blonde thought. She gritted her teeth and did her best to guide Geoff around, despite his unconscious state.
She squinted past the hailstorm. Looking up, she dared a glance at her friend. He was practically paralyzed. His eyes were shut tight, and he was murmuring gibberish under his breath.
Bridgette spotted a dark cavern. The cave! she realized. Quickly, she walked as fast as she could to reach it. The hail was really pouring now, and it hurt a lot. Now she could understand why Geoff hated it so much.
Just as they reached the cave, something large fell from the sky.
Bridgette shrieked in surprise as hail the size of boulders began falling. It blocked the entrance of the cave, and another fell, missing the duo by inches.
"Geoff!" Bridgette cried as she dragged his limp body. "Geoff, please! I need you to wake up!"
At her urging, Geoff was jolted from his unconscious trance. His blue eyes stared at her in confusion.
Then a boulder fell from the sky again, Bridgette squeezed her eyes shut to brace herself from the impact, but it never came.
She opened her eyes and saw Chef Hatchet, looking at both of them, agitation and horror in his features.
"C-C-Chef?" Bridgette said through chattering teeth. "Wh-What's happening?"
The cook looked at her grimly. "Chris McLean is dead."
Cody never defused a bomb before.
He was terrified of them. The mere sight of it on TV scared the crap out of him.
But now, a bomb was ticking away, right in front of him.
Beep.
Cody took a deep breath and lowered the hedge clippers Chris gave him to the blue wire. As a child, he lived in a dangerous area of town. There were gunfights, thugs—you name it. That was the main reason why he was sheltered as a child.
Beep.
Then again, Cody thought, pulling the clippers back, red wire looks more suspicious. Yeah, the red wire. Again, the geek lowered the clippers.
He wondered why they didn't just move out of that shitty place. One night, some deranged person set a bomb on their front porch.
He remembered everything—the explosion, the terrified expression of his mother as she held him.
Beep.
All of them survived. The bomb wasn't particularly strong—or effective, for that matter. Whoever put that thing in their house was truly an idiot. And the only part of their house that was destroyed was the foyer, leaving a gaping hole as their front door for months.
But still...Cody was only four. The sound of the explosion burrowed itself in his ears like a hole. And he was truly traumatized.
Beep.
Something white fell from the sky. Curiously, Cody held his hand out, and a small ball of ice stayed on his palm.
It had begun to hail. Cody let out a puff of irritation. What the hell? It was summer, not exactly the correct time for hail. And Canada wasn't exactly known for climate change.
Well, not this extreme anyway.
Beep.
As if this wasn't hard enough. Cody shielded his face from the pellets falling from the sky, and checked the time bomb.
He had nine minutes left. Great.
Beep.
He sat there for a few minutes, trying to collect his thoughts. The hail was really pouring now, much to his horror. The ice were making the bomb quicken, for some reason.
What was happening? His mind was spinning and he was utterly confused.
Beep.
That's it. He needed to get away from here. He obviously couldn't defuse the bomb, and anyway...it was probably a fake bomb.
Cody's thoughts cleared when he realized that. His fear slipped away. "Yeah, this is a reality show," he murmured, trying to reassure himself. "They won't let me die. They won't let the place blow up." He glanced at his clippers, then angrily threw it at the ground.
"I'm not doing this!" he exclaimed.
Beep.
He stalked off, and headed to the cabins. So he wasn't able to face his fear. Big deal. Stupid McLean. He didn't need to do anything. In fact, he'd gladly be eliminated for tonight. All of this was worthless.
Before he could do anything, though, strong arms were suddenly pulling him from the ground. Cody yelped in surprise and turned to see his captor.
"What the—Chef Hatchet?" Cody squeaked in shock. "What's going on?" he added, when he saw Bridgette and Geoff behind him, their faces windburned.
"Scrawny kid, listen to me," Chef instructed. "Everyone in this island is dead, and you may just be dead. We have to hurry." He pulled Cody's arm and began to drag him whilst running away.
Bridgette and Geoff followed suit. Cody numbly allowed himself to be pulled, until he remembered something.
"Oh, God." Cody realized. "The—the bomb!"
"WHAT?" Chef Hatchet thundered.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
BOOM.
Until now, no one was quite sure what happened.
There had been no survivors. No interns, to production staff, no one was spared. Various body parts were scattered around the island. Private investigators examined the place, trying to look for evidence to find out what the hell happened.
They found poor Beth's body in a hole. DJ and Tyler were good as dead in the forest. They also found Gwen's crushed body underground.
But the most mystifying one was Chris McLean himself. He was hanged on the tree.
The autopsy revealed that he died three hours before the challenges began. (Further investigation said that the challenges were scheduled at 9:30). No one knew if it were due to suicide, or what.
But someone had hosted the challenges. No one knew who it was. But there was no way that the unwilling teenagers would do the grotesque challenges themselves.
From that day on, it was known as the Total Drama Island mystery. No one had any idea what the hell happened, and some people (such as the previously eliminated contestants) weren't sure if they actually wanted to find out.
I'm gonna be honest. This story fucking sucks. It's like, Final Destination, but less entertaining and more stupid, like some parody of it. I'm sorry for the way it turned out. But Happy Halloween, folks. Um...please review and tell me if you somewhat liked the story, because it took me a pretty long time to finish it, too. :(