A/N: So let me start off by saying that this fic is not really meant to be taken very seriously. It's just a fun collab between me and my bestest friend in the whole world, Loudon. I wrote this chapter, and she will write the next one, and so on and so on. It's her first fic, so you should leave plenty of reviews for her!
Also,most of the places in this fic are real places in Sacramento, except for Beverley Manor, which may or may not exist. Richard Chase was a serial killer who did exist, but of course there is some embellishment here and there.
Finally, this story takes place somewhere in between season two and three, mainly because that's all I've seen so far. So read, review, and enjoy!
I didn't know what I was laying on, but it was soft and squishy. The air was warm, and I could feel the sun shining on my face. I never wanted to get up.
"In point 2 miles, turn left."
A strange mechanical voice rung in my ear as I opened my eyes. I was on my back, laying on a puffy white cloud, all alone, no one but myself for miles and miles around. Not even the buzzing of a fly or the singing of a bird disturbed the peace. Where could that voice have come from?
"In point 1 miles, turn left."
Sighing, I stood and brushed some stray cloud fluff from my jeans. I guess I'd have to go look for whatever was annoying me. Struggling to maintain my balance on the bouncy, uneven surface, I made my way to the left side of my cloud and peered over. All I could see below was miles and miles of green forests, with a blue river snaking through the center. It was so beautiful, so quiet and serene, so... completely and utterly terrifying.
I scrambled my way back to the center of the cloud. It seemed a whole lot more flimsy and unstable now than it did a moment ago.
'Why am I up so high?! How did I even get up here?! God I hate heights!' I felt my heart speed up and my breathing became uneven. Was the cloud dissipating under me or was that my vision fading?
"Turn left."
All of a sudden the cloud I was perched on pitched to the left, throwing me over the side. The now freezing wind roared in my ears and whipped my hair into my face as I fell, the sharp branches of the trees rushing up to meet me. Now I could see the ground below, and there were clowns, grotesque, evil, grinning clowns. All dancing and swarming and smiling. All waiting for me to hit the ground...
"Ahh!"
I jerked awake and tried to sit up, but the seat belt held me back. Trying to slow my still rapid heartbeat, I took a deep breath and assessed my surroundings.
I wasn't on any cloud, I was in a truck, Georgia's truck. A bright red 1996 Ford f150 that was barreling down the road. My seat had been reclined as far back as it could go and the seat belt had locked on me, effectively cutting off my oxygen supply.
I released the seat belt and pulled the seat back into it's proper position. Over in the driver's side my friend George sat with one elbow propped on the window and one hand on the steering wheel. She had apparently stopped by a Burger King while I was out, there was an order of fries shoved into the door handle and a coffee in one of the cup holders. A white paper bag was resting precariously on the center arm rest.
"Are you okay?" She asked, her blue eyes flicking to me for a second before returning to the road.
"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the glare of the streetlights. "Just another nightmare." Not uncommon for people of our trade.
"Well, at least you got to sleep." She muttered. I could see the tiredness in her face, and I felt a twinge of pity for my best friend. "I got you a burger when I stopped, it's in the bag. It's probably cold by now, though."
"Thanks." I pulled the burger out and took a bite. George was right, it was cold. I must of been out for a while. "I could drive you know," I offered, feeling guilty about sleeping so long while George drove.
She turned to look at me like I had suggested we invite a demon over for tea and I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. The sheer horror in her eyes was enough to tell me what she thought of the idea.
"Ok, first off," She began, turning her eyes back on the road, "You don't have a license, so it's illegal."
"Since when have we ever cared about the legality of anything?"
"Secondly, " She interrupted, "There is no way that I would ever let you drive my truck. Never. Not even if a pack of werewolves were chasing us. Never, no way, not gonna happen."
Well she was certainly awake now, after that tirade. I was unsure whether I should be offended or not.
"In point 8 miles, turn right." The GPS chimed in with its mechanical British accent. We were headed to Sacramento, California to investigate a number of strange disappearances. All four of the victims were young women, between the ages of 17 and 24.
"So, what have you got on our disappearing women?" She asked, taking the right turn as the GPS prompted.
I stuffed the last bite of burger into my mouth and pulled out a paper map and red pen from the glove compartment. I unfolded the map and draped the top half over the dash. "Ok, so, from what I can tell all the victims were last seen in bars here and here." I drew two circles on the map, labeling one 1 and the other 2. "The first set of disappearances were from here, the second here. The victims were in pairs, two of them would go into the bar together, they would walk out together, then they would both disappear. The police are investigating, but I don't think they have any leads so far. Now, I'm thinking that when we get there, the first thing we do should be to scope out one of those bars."
George looked at me with the haunted eyes of a woman running on too much coffee and not enough sleep.
"What?!"
"Alex, I am going to say this slowly. The very first thing we are going to do when we get there is find a motel, check in, and sleep. I refuse to do anything even remotely job related until I get at least six hours of sleep under my belt." Her left eye twitched a bit, and her tired eyes were suddenly... murderous. "Do I need to explain what will happen if I do not get my sleep?"
I knew better than to argue.
"Right, sleep, we should get some of that first." I looked back at the map. "Anyways, all the disappearances came from either the Park Ultra Lounge or DeVeres Irish Pub, it also looks like the disappearances were centered around here, the International World Peace Rose Garden."
"So is there anything significant about that address?"
"Yeah, actually. It used to be the site of the mental institution called Beverly Manor, once home of a serial killer named Richard Chase." I pulled George's Iphone from the cup holder that wasn't occupied and opened Google. "I haven't checked yet, but I'm willing to bet the victims match his M.O., and the recent disappearances happen to coincide with the week of December 26, the day he died."
She shot me an exasperated glance. "Yeah, sure, you can use my phone, I don't mind."
I shot her a grin. "I knew you wouldn't."
"So have there ever been any disappearances like like before? Anything to suggest that this is our kind of thing and not just a coincidence?" She popped some fries in her mouth and took a sip of her coffee. She looked like death warmed over, and all of a sudden our decision to drive all night didn't seem like such a good idea.
"Um, yeah," I pulled up an old new story on her phone and showed it to her. "A set of disappearances exactly like this happened ten years ago, only there were six girls, and one more bar called Dive Bar. I figure that's where the next victims are going to come from."
"Hm" she grunted an affirmation. "I'm out of coffee." She let the empty cup drop to the floor board and rubbed her eyes with the newly freed hand.
"So how much further until we get there? No offense, but you look like hell." I glanced out the window, looking for some indication of how much further to Sacramento, but all I could see was other cars and streetlights.
"Well, the GPS says about a half hour, so I'm going to take it's word for it."
I had forgotten about the GPS. "Oh, yeah, I forgot that we got one of those. I glad we did though, we certainly get lost a lot less often." Before we got the GPS, I was the navigator, and that didn't work out very well. See, I'm very directionally challenged, so much so that I highly doubt my ability to navigate my way out of a paper bag.
"Mhm" was the only response I got, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.
