Thank you for the few reviews I've gotten...as I've said in my previous stories, if I know that at least one person out there is reading it, then I will continue to post. It may be a bit slow, but I'll get there...here's the next chapter!

Chapter 3

A shadow flickered in the dim light of the room as Ryan stood in the doorway. He normally would have passed it off as a bad bulb, but the circumstances were far from normal. Six people had died a horrific death in that house, and a sick feeling developed in the pit of Ryan's stomach as he slowly turned to face the room.

The light glinted off of an axe blade as Ryan stumbled back into the hallway, narrowly avoiding the cold metal. He stared a moment at the figure who had wielded the axe, and took in the main details as he fell back into the stairway banister.

The axe man wore a devilish grin, but his eyes were covered by a black cloth, connected to a black hood. How original. The thought had hardly crossed through his mind before Ryan dodged another swing and escaped back into the room. He went for his gun and aimed at the axe man. One bullet pierced the hooded man's skin as the shot reverberated through Ryan's ears. The man continued toward Ryan, who pulled the trigger once more before the axe head met up with Ryan's mouth, sending blood spraying out onto the already blood-engorged carpeting. His face met with the soft blue material of the floor as his head spun at an overwhelming speed. He tried to move, but an enormous weight held him to the floor.

Ryan was rolled onto his back, and he saw his gun lying just two feet from his extended grip. But two feet seemed like a mile when he had a possible concussion, and a psychotic serial killer was holding him to the ground. He felt the man's knuckles connect with his jaw as pain flashed through his skull once again. He reached out and grabbed onto the man's sleeves, kneed him in the side, and pushed him off.

Ryan took his chance of escape as he left the axe man in pain on the floor. He skidded to the wall, breathing heavily and attempting to keep his balance. His fear meter spiked as he watched the man rise to his feet. What was it going to take to keep him down? He heard frantic footsteps, light on the stairs. They must have heard the gun shots. The axe man paid no attention, though, as he lifted his axe and laughed softly, as though he were enjoying some sort of inside joke.

Ryan finally got his nerve and gathered his thought. "Why are you doing this?" he asked as the man walked toward him menacingly. The mouth was still upturned in a sinister smile. Ryan was slammed backward suddenly, getting the wind knocked from his body in the process, and he swung his fist out, hitting soft flesh. The axe man laughed and hit Ryan back, and the axe followed not a second later.

Shock and pain erupted in Ryan's head as sickening sound met his deaf ears. He saw a psychotic hooded man, blurs, then the ceiling...a faded, grey ceiling. He could not breathe, his chest felt so heavy, it hurt when he moved to inhale the assaulted air around him. A shaky hand went to his chest as he felt blunt metal mixed with warm blood.

"Ryan! Ryan?"

He heard Calleigh's voice somewhere, to his right, to his left...hell, he did not know where it came from, but he knew she was there. The tried to say something, to warn her, but he could not make a sound but for small wheezes as he tried to make out the words. He tasted blood in the back of his throat as the dark fluid obstructed his breathing, and a pool of blood began to form beneath his body. Victim number seven...this is nice...

Calleigh kneeled beside the CSI as she screamed back at Frank. "Go after him, he went out the window! I'll take care of Ryan," she said.

Ryan heard her call Control for an ambulance. Like that was going to help. He had a goddamned axe in his chest. He tried to take control of the situation as he moved a hand from his chest and reached out to Calleigh. Well, he could move, at least. "Ca...Cal..."

Calleigh held Ryan's blood-soaked hand as she listened to the few small, painful attempts he made toward speaking. "Ryan, please, don't say anything. Just stay still, okay? An ambulance is on its way, you'll be all right."

He coughed painfully and arched his back against the pain. Blood had soaked his blue t-shirt, turning it a dark red-violet. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the fact that he had an axe in his chest. He would have to get through this, he had too much left to do to die like this.

Calleigh squeezed Ryan's hand gently, attempting to gain back his attention. "Ryan, you're gonna be okay. I promise you'll be fine," she whispered, unsure if he could even hear what she was saying. "Please don't leave me, Ryan." She saw blood in his teeth, on his lips, on the floor, pouring from his chest. No-one could live through this, God, he was going to die. A tear escaped from Calleigh's eye as she set her free hand on the side of his face in a small effort to keep him with her.

God, he was so stupid. He had to leave to phone in the Hummer. He had a gun, and he could not protect himself against an axe-wielding maniac. What the hell was up with that...thing, anyways? Was it immortal, or something? His mind was foggy, he was not thinking straight, but for some reason, he knew that he was not thinking straight. He had to get through this...he had to live, he could not let this kill him. He felt pressure on his cheek as he faced Calleigh's tear-streaked face. Why was she crying? Um, maybe because I'm dying...duh.

"Cal?" he choked out. He tasted the blood as he said her name, knowing he would pay the price. He tasted it...felt it, smelled it, saw it, heard it rattling in his lungs. When was he going to bleed to death? Dying was taking far too long, did he really have that much blood?

"Ryan, please..." she whispered, trying to fight her sobs. She stroked his cheek as she heard sirens cry out, to save him, but they were taking so long.

"Jesus Christ..."

Calleigh spun quickly, startled by her colleague's voice. Frank stood in the doorway, breathless, covered in sweat, staring down at Ryan's blood-soaked feature.

"I couldn't get to him. I couldn't...I'm sorry, Calleigh," he said in huffs. "Is there anything I can do?"

He stood there awkwardly as Calleigh turned back to Ryan, thoughts racing through her mind faster than what she could grasp. Paramedics were racing up the stairs, were in the room, were pulling her away from him, she was screaming at them, she was crying to Frank, he was bleeding, he was dying...

Was he dying?

Dun, dun, dun. Hate me. Now! Happy New Year to you all, even though it's a week past, and it smells like sauer kraut in here, and it stinks like vinegar-soaked cabbage. I'm not kidding. I love the Killers! PLEASE REVIEW...please.