The story you're about to read is a direct sequel to a viral post. If you haven't already read it, Bill Dauterive finally snaps and breaks into the Hill residence, only to commit depraved acts upon the people within. As it originally appeared on 4Chan, it is far beyond what would be appropriate to summarize on Fan Fiction. However, should your curiosity get the best of you, the story can be found by Google searching "chanarchive at first bill was". That should lead you right to it. Once you've read that, return here and read on. This is the immediate aftermath of that fateful night.


Sirens blared across Arlen that morning, originating from the normally quaint Rainey Street. Having been kept late at the station by a pesky floor director who kept blatantly hitting on her, Nancy Gribble was the first to be disturbed. Angrily pulling the covers over her head, she punched her husband's scrawny arm to wake him up.

"Sug, go see what the hell is going on," she yelled, her face muffled by blankets and pillows. As he rose, Dale Gribble instinctively grabbed his pack of cigarettes and began to get dressed. He looked toward the window. The blinds worked to keep most light out, but the tell-tale signs of flashing emergency lights couldn't be ignored.

"Is it the Feds?" he asked sleepily. Still tired from helping his neighbor Hank the day before, he almost didn't care if they had finally caught onto him. Almost.

Sliding on his robe and Nancy's pink slippers, he opened his front door. Immediately, he found himself drowning in light and color: ambulances, fire trucks, squad cars, caution lights... Rainey Street was pandemonium. His first instinct was to run inside to his basement and hide, but a sudden realization kept him outside. Across the street, where his neighbor Hank's house was, was a smoldering ruin. The house where he and his friends had spent countless hours building and rebuilding things, mowing and remowing lawns. The house where Hank, his wife Peggy, and son Bobby had lived peacefully for years. Gone.

Searching for a familiar face in the crowd, he found Kahn Souphanousinphone standing close to his wife Mihn and daughter Connie.

"What happened?" Dale coughed, exhuming his throat of the aftermath of 35 years of smoking. Despite this, he was already halfway to lighting a new cigarette in his mouth. Kahn shook his head.

"Dumb hillbilly burn down house. Loved his propane too much, I guess." Kahn's voice didn't sound the same to Dale. He noted that despite his usual sarcastic and insulting tone, the words felt unnatural. Shaken.

"No word yet on any survivors," Mihn added. She gripped Connie's shoulder supportively, who had been silently crying since Dale had arrived. Without warning, she took off back into her own house, sobbing.

Dale then noticed Boomhauer, waiting in the alley with three cans of Alamo beer. He walked over and claimed his, nodding to his old friend.

"Any word yet?"

"I did-dan-dang 'ol, don't know, man. Just did and then well woke up and it then man sirens and well got some dang 'ol... beers, man." Boomhauer shook his head.

"And you expected there to be four of us, right?"

"Did... dang... didn't know it was dang 'ol Hank, man..." Dale patted Boomhauer on the shoulder consolingly.

"You know Hank. He never would have let something like this happen if he was home. There's no way he was in there when it blew." Boomhauer nodded, still not convinced. Dale looked around, expectantly.

"Where the hell is Bill?" he asked. Boomhauer shrugged, kicking his feet. Dale shook his head. "Fat bastard can sleep through anything I guess." He turned his attention back to the Hill house. Out of what was left of the house, several paramedics carried a stretcher towards an ambulance. It didn't take very long for Dale to realize it carried a body, its head covered under a white shroud. One of the Hills.

From the looks of the body, it was either Hank or Peggy. Dale knew this for sure seconds later, as a second stretcher came from the house carrying a significantly smaller corpse. A third and fourth stretcher followed, and Dale extinguished his cigarette.

"I guess that's it then," he sighed, stomping the butt out on the sidewalk. Boomhauer stared at his feet, catatonic. "You going to be okay?" Dale asked sympathetically. Boomhauer just waved him off, not saying a word. Dale watched him for a moment, then turned to go back inside.

Dale crawled back into bed with Nancy. She stirred slightly, and pulled the blankets against her tightly.

"What's going on out there, sug?" she asked him. No reply. She rolled over to look at her husband, only to see his face expressionless and his fingers trembling. Gently, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Sug, what happened?"

Dale took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then closed his eyes. Tears began to form, and they streamed down his narrow face with ease. "Hank, Peggy and Bobby are dead."