A/N: It's strange to be writing a story about a movie that came out two years ago. Truth be told, I've never trusted sequels and stayed away until I watched it quite by accident a month ago and found it to be surprising good. So I set out to write the final scene that could round off the movie. I hope you like it. And I don't own Final Destination 3. I wouldn't want to be suddenly hit by a bus, would I? looks over shoulder
Deciding Your Fate
The gentle murmur and the dimly lit interior merged perfectly with the dark mood of the only person seated at the bar counter. Kevin Fischer stared into the amber depths of the contents of his glass. It seemed that his days and nights now consisted solely of attempts to emulate Nicholas Cage's character from Leaving Las Vegas. His parents had long since abandoned attempts to talk reason into their son. For them it seemed as if their son had died long before and it was only a shell that walked around in his place.
In one impulsive movement, Kevin downed the contents of his glass and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat. The ice cubes clinked as he set down the glass and gestured for one more. He watched the bartender refill his glass, yet his thoughts were far away.
It had been two months since the tragic accident which had claimed two of the lives that had escaped the rollercoaster death ride. Kevin, until then, had forced himself to focus, to stay on top and not lose control of his life. But that one event had sent him on a downward spiral that refused to end. His life was empty now, his mind seemingly having shut down. He had no interest in his surroundings, no wish to take any further part in this world. All he prayed for each day was for it to end, for it to be finally over. But death which, earlier, had been only too eager to take him, now appeared to enjoy his agony and self-loathing. So it waited, always watching, always a step behind him but never making its move.
Ironic, Kevin thought to himself, since death had been rather quick in its collections up until that point. Kevin only had memories now, and they began to flash through his mind like a movie that he had seen a thousand times before.
They had been so happy, so carefree… so alive. Wandering through the amusement park, just days from their graduation, there was nothing that could have dampened their high spirits. They had had their whole lives in front of them. Only one ride remained, the Devil's Flight, and then they were heading home. In his mind, he had been already practicing his proposal, and imagining her joyous acceptance. He had had no clue that Carrie had tired of his shenanigans and was even then thinking of the painful day when she would have to dump him.
As they had eagerly awaited their turn on the ride, he hadn't really noticed his best friend, Jason's, girlfriend's anxiety. He hadn't known Wendy all that well, and at that time he had wished that he didn't know her at all. His devil-may-care attitude clashed horribly with her controlled approach to all things; control that seemed to have snapped when she began to scream about the ride crashing just as they were about to start. In a moment of madness, he had put his faith in a coin toss on who would have to sit with her. He had told himself that it would only be three minutes and so had glibly told Jason that he would take care of her. Only the three minutes never came because she had begun yelling her head off and they had been kicked off the ride. Part of him had been quite convinced that she had come unhinged yet he had valiantly stood up for her against the ride officials as well as to their own classmates who had resented being booted off with the two of them. His mind had been changed just moments later when he heard the screams as the rollercoaster flew off its track. Desperately he had run to where it crashed, vainly hoping that Carrie had survived. A hope that had been dashed when he saw her and Jason's battered bodies on the ground.
That night, through his grief, he had been unable to shake the feeling that there was more to the accident. Though his feelings for Wendy till then had been of concealed loathing, he had respected her enough to know that she was not one of the hysterical types who went crazy at the drop of a hat. Something about Wendy's ravings had portended a more disturbing likelihood. And so he had gone online to see if there was more that he could find out. And he had read about the doomed flight 180 and the fates of the students who had got off it. Convinced now that he was part of a similar design, he had tried to tell Wendy about his idea, only to be rudely blown off by a woman who was still shattered by her loss.
Still the thought had kept nagging at the back of his mind, and then the deaths of Ashley and Ashlyn had come to shock them to the front. And that was when Wendy contacted him to tell him that she believed him and that perhaps death was somehow coming after those who had got off. Neither of them could have known that it was coming much faster than they could have predicted, until they had seen Frank Cheeks die right before them. Yet in a day of death, they had begun to bond over their loss of loved ones. Perhaps it had helped that he had been able to shed his previous nonchalance and his sober air was more acceptable to Wendy. They had shared their feelings for Jason and Carrie and he had told her about his planned proposal, something no one else had known of until then.
Kevin finished his drink and indicated to the bartender that he was ready for another one. The man grudgingly poured him another drink but kept a beady eye on the lonely figure that seemed to have been stripped of all life. Kevin did not feel his eyes on him, for he was back at the gym when the weights had dropped to crush Lewis' skull. That was when he had noticed Wendy begin to lose control as guilt overwhelmed her, and she blamed every death on herself. He had tried to console her as best as he could. He had known that the only way for her to come back to something approaching normal, would be for them to save the rest. And they had succeeded, with Wendy reading the clues in the photographs to save Ian's life. But that had only caused death to skip Ian and before their horrified eyes, Erin had been shot multiple times by a nail gun she had fallen against.
Troubled by all the deaths he had witnessed and the intense interrogation by the McKinley police, he had headed to the tri-centennial where he had been employed to work security. Haunted by the thought that his time was almost up, his musings had been interrupted by a call from Wendy to tell him that the mystery couple before them in the rollercoaster had been her sister, Julie and one of her friends. Frantically, he had searched for her but just as he had found her, a spooked horse had run past them and Julie had been entangled in its harness. It had been touch and go, but luckily he had been able to grab one of the swords of the actors and had used it to slice the harness just before Julie was dragged into an old-time wheat thresher prop. Leaving the sisters, he had rushed off to continue his duties as a member of the security by trying to calm the frightened horse. It had however kicked him into a stall, causing a gas leak that had exploded in his face and would have killed him if Wendy hadn't figured out the clue in time to pull him away.
Their exit however, had been interrupted by Ian McKinley, who had ranted and raved until Wendy had suddenly ducked, taking Julie and himself with her, just as a few rockets had flown over them and brought a cherry picker down on Ian. It had seemed to him at that time that they were finally safe; that death had come for them but they had beaten it. Still, for their own safety, he and Wendy had decided to go their different ways to avoid any recurrences.
As he swirled the contents of his glass, Kevin smiled wanly, thinking of the strange ways of fate that had brought all three of them together in a subway. It would have been a joyful reunion if Wendy hadn't had another premonition. He had tried everything, from pulling the emergency brake to slamming on the doors and windows but nothing had worked. Moments later, the train had run off its tracks and they were locked in another horror ride. As he had felt himself get thrown about, the sound of screeching metal in his ears, he had heard Wendy scream something about staying down and away from windows. Knowing enough to trust her vision, he had done exactly that, holding on to the pole nearest him as he was flung about by the wildly swinging carriage.
Kevin gulped down the rest of his drink as he thought about how his attempt at valour had almost ended his life. He had slowly slid up the carriage towards where Wendy was holding on for dear life. Just as he had almost reached her, he saw Julie get thrown sideways and her head hit one of the seats. Dazed and confused, she had stumbled to her feet and he and Wendy had yelled at her to stay down. A split second later, their yells had been cut off as a thrown train wheel smashed into Julie's body and killed her instantly. Numbed with shock, he had heard Wendy screaming for her sister and had stood with a vague idea of moving to where her body lay. Just then the carriage had lurched, and he had felt Wendy grab him around the waist. As the two of them had fallen backwards he had seen someone hurtle right past where he had been standing a moment earlier and smash into the window. They had watched in horror as the window had shattered and the person had been pulled through and obliterated.
The two of them had then huddled down, hoping and praying that it would end soon. Just as he had been allowing himself to hope that they might escape, the carriage had finally smashed into the wall and thrown the two of them apart.
Kevin raised the refilled glass to his lips, his mind full of the sound of crashing metal and the feeling of being tossed about like a rag doll before he had passed out. When he had finally come to, his first thought had been that he was dead. That was until he had felt the taste of blood in his mouth. Slowly and painfully he had raised himself slightly to look around at the carnage surrounding him. Bodies had lain strewn around him, with blood splattered everywhere. He had felt a stab of guilt that so many lives had been snuffed out just for the three of them. And then his clouded mind had settled on the one most important thought for him. He had yelled for her, a knot of fear forming in his stomach. There had been no response for a few moments, and as he had been readying himself for another bellow, he had heard a soft whimper.
It had taken a few moments for his eyes to find her in the darkness. She had been thrown onto the tracks in front of the wreck of the subway cars. He had seen her try to push herself to her feet and then collapse to the floor again, clutching her wounded right leg. He himself had tried to get up at that moment, only to crumple to the ground, groaning with pain. He would find out later that he had suffered 3 broken ribs and had broken his pelvis and shattered his left femur. But at that moment, it hadn't mattered to him, as long as he knew that they had both made it out alive. He had shouted out to her and she had turned, her eyes widening as she had seen him still in the land of the living. She had called out to him, and in her voice he had discerned the relief and the hope that things were still well with them.
Unable to walk he had once again resorted to a half-crawl half-slide towards her, when they had both heard it simultaneously. The rattle of wheels on tracks as it roared towards Wendy. He had joked so many times about the light at the end of the tunnel being a train that was heading at you, only this time it had been horrifyingly real.
He had tried… dear God, he had tried so hard. He had pushed his body with almost superhuman endurance, to stand and reach for her. But he had been too far, and he had only taken a couple of steps before the train had hit her. The last he had heard of Wendy Christensen was her scream of fear mixing with his of despair to form some sort of a deathly chorus. And at that moment, frozen with his hand still stretched forward, he had died too.
A single tear traced its way down Kevin's cheek and he reached up to wipe it away. He ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time that night, giving himself a slightly wild air. With one last swallow he emptied his glass again and asked for another one. The bartender loped over to him but he didn't have a bottle with him.
"If you've got girl trouble," he said, in his most kindly voice, "Drinkin' ain't gonna solve them."
"I haven't got girl trouble," Kevin mumbled, "Just give me another drink."
"I think you've had way too much to drink, buddy," the bartender retorted, offended at blunt put-down.
"That's my call, man, now give me a drink," Kevin shot back, his voice starting to rise over the voices of the other patrons.
"Alright, that's enough, kid," the man snapped, "Get out."
"Just give me a fucking drink," Kevin yelled, not concerned that everyone in the bar was now staring unabashedly at him.
As Kevin swore wildly, two heavies who had been sitting at one of the tables nearest the bar counter, stood up at a signal by the bartender and proceeded to take hold of Kevin and hauled him out. In his brightly illuminated state of mind, Kevin proceeded to curse a blue streak through the air about the men, their wives, mothers and other members of family. The men, who obviously had heard this sort of thing before, just laughed at him and strode back in to finish their drinks.
After a few more moments of yelling at the door, Kevin turned to head back home. Mumbling under his breath, he petulantly kicked at an empty soda can lying on the street. Just as he felt that his mood couldn't get any blacker, he spied the neon lights advertising another watering hole. Eager to continue his morbid self-recriminations, he moved with a firmer step towards the welcoming glow. Walking past a dark alley, he thought he heard a cry for help and he paused. As he stood and listened, he could hear some angry muttering, followed by a pained grunt and a squeal.
In his current state of apathy to all in the world, Kevin didn't feel like he needed to be bothered by what was going on and he only needed to focus on getting another shot of whiskey. His first instinct was to walk away and he even took a couple of steps before something changed inside him. Part of him went back to being the Kevin who had tried to save seven lives before giving in to the futility of it all. He heaved an angry sigh and gave the inviting sign one last lingering look before turning around.
Walking boldly into the alley, Kevin could see three darkened figures. One was holding a gun to the other two and appeared to be getting increasingly angry at their non-cooperation. The other two were a young couple of which the male had bent over due to a fist being driven into his solar plexus. The woman was bending with him to check on his health while muttering oaths at their attacker. She had just told the gunman to perform an anatomical impossibility when Kevin intervened with a sharp Hey.
The effect of his statement was electric. The mugger whipped around, gun cocked and pointed straight at Kevin while the couple stumbled around unsure whether this new player was saviour or threat. Kevin took a good look at the attacker and found himself surprised that he wasn't much older than Kevin himself. What was even more evident was the boy's nervousness. Deciding on the bold approach, Kevin moved towards the boy all the while telling him to put the gun down.
Kevin's sudden appearance seemed to have unnerved the mugger to the extent that Kevin was within ten feet of him before he seemed to realize what was happening. Then, he began to wave the gun in what he supposed was a menacing manner.
"Back off, man," he stuttered, "This doesn't concern you."
"Look, you don't have to do this," Kevin replied, still moving closer, "Just put the gun down and let these guys go, alright."
"Stop where you are," the attacker wavered, his gun beginning to shake slightly, "Don't come any closer and you won't get hurt."
"You don't wanna hurt anybody, do you?" Kevin asked him, attempting to use his limited knowledge of psychology, "Look, just let these people go and…"
"And what man…" the mugger bellowed, regaining some of his composure, "You come walking in here pretending you give a fuck. Get the fuck outta here."
"You're right, I don't know you," Kevin acknowledged, still inching forward, "I just don't want to see these people get hurt."
"I wasn't gonna hurt them until Romeo here decided to try to be a hero," the attacker snapped, jerking his head at the man who was still clutching his stomach , "Now step back, alright, and don't try to be a hero too." "You," he yelled to the girl, "Wallet and jewellery, now."
"Just give me the gun, man," Kevin said, still using his most persuasive tone of voice.
It was at this moment that 'Romeo', perhaps feeling that the odds had swung in their favour, lunged at the mugger while his girlfriend tried to restrain him. Confused, the gunman began to swing his gun around. Kevin sensed danger and moved too, hoping to wrench the gun out of his grasp.
In the midst of this commotion, suddenly, three shots rang out. The would-be mugger staggered back, still clutching the smoking weapon, horrified by what he had done. 'Juliet' screamed at the sound of the gunfire and held 'Romeo' back, who himself was shocked into stillness. Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through his system that masked the pain initially. Kevin's first feeling was that of surprise as he felt himself pushed back. Instinctively, his hand went up to his chest. He could feel something warm and wet soaking through his t-shirt and pulling his hand away, he saw it wet with his own blood.
"Fuck," he mumbled, as the pain finally hit, and he dropped to his knees and then collapsed to the ground. His eyes met those of his 'killer' and he knew that this was just another kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time; just like they had been, all those months ago, when they had decided to ride the rollercoaster. Now on the cold hard earth, he could hear the footsteps of the attacker rushing away from the scene. He could hear the horrified exclamations of the young couple as they rushed over to him. They took one look at the blood, and the man was dialing as fast as he could.
"Yeah, this is Will Stires," he said, trying to keep his voice level through his agitation, "Look, a guy has just been shot and… and he's bleeding pretty badly. He needs to get to a doctor. Yeah, we're at…"
Kevin wasn't listening to him any more. The girl was kneeling over him, telling him that it was going to be ok, that help was on the way. That he would be fine. He wasn't listening to her either. Kevin knew that he was done, his time had run out. And as the realization sank in, he smiled.
Lying in a rapidly expanding pool of blood, he smiled not because he had been courting death or was glad to be rid of the burden of existing without living. He smiled because he had not fallen off a rollercoaster, been blown up, burnt, or crushed by signs. He smiled because he had made a choice, had tempted fate. And in doing so, he had been able to choose his death; he had been able to decide his own fate. He did spare a thought for all his friends who had been denied that choice, of walking into a situation knowing that they may not make it out alive yet going through with it anyway. He felt for them, but he also thanked his good fortune that he had had the opportunity to do so, and a feeling of great triumph swept through him. The darkness was rapidly taking him for its own, and Kevin couldn't focus clearly on Will and his girlfriend anymore. His body was shutting down, every breath was an effort. It was almost time. Gathering up all his remaining strength, he delivered his final statement of defiance.
"Fuck death."