FIFTEEN

The turbines on the sleek aircraft whined as the giant machine backed smoothly into the landing dock at Charles de Gaulle Airport. The air was calm outside, the low lying clouds hanging on the horizon painted with a yellow glow by the beginning of the morning. The airstrip was busy at this time of the day, filled with the roar of jet aircraft landing and taking off, and the whine of motors as baggage handlers scurried back and forth like insects in their electric bag carts, cheerfully going about their duty of losing their passengers' baggage, one suitcase at a time.

Carter unstrapped himself from his cushioned seat and watched as the seatbelt signs pinged off, breathing a sigh of relief. He knew it was stupid to have been so tense about the flight, but still, it never hurt to be cautious, especially considering everything that had happened to him so far that year.

He still couldn't deal with the fact that it had been a scary fucking year. He even shivered at the thought.

Carter stood up in the aisle, stretching to soothe his cramped limbs, then reached up and pulled a huge bag out of the overhead locker. The bag clinked loudly as it came down off the plastic shelf, and Carter hurried to zip the top shaft before its alcoholic contents fell out and bounced off the head of the disapproving little old lady sitting opposite him. She had been glaring at him unflinchingly through the entire flight.

"Well, we made it." He announced, smiling ruefully. Despite the long flight, he looked fresh and bright-eyed in his crisp white T-shirt, with a flannel shirt on top of it, and black leather jacket on top of all.

"Paris!" Clear smiled back at him, pulling her own bag down off the locker shelf. Her blonde hair really looked majestic in her, and the fact she looked well-rested made her even more beautiful than ever. She glanced out of the window, half expecting to see the rust-red terrain of Mars instead of a pretty French cityscape. It certainly felt like they had travelled further than a mere few thousand miles across the pond. She nodded out of the window.

"Man, I can't believe it…" The other person, who could truly understand them both said. "I just can't believe we got on a plane again, you know what I'm saying?"

Alex had been that one person. He offered them a smile, and then grabbed his bag off the sear and bounded up behind Clear. She smiled back up at him with a look of pure mischief on her face.

A whole week in Paris… in the wintertime. On the Boxing Day all the way to January 2nd.

Just the three of them.

Alex winked at Clear, then turned and glanced out of the window, as if to reassure himself that they really were on the ground. The burns on his hands had now almost completely healed, as had the scorch marks on his chest caused by the defibrillation equipment. It was only the slight limp in his step that gave away how close to death he had come.

Clear looked up at him happily, thinking how handsome he looked in his new gray sweater and his more stylish bowl cut. It was a far cry from his toupée and spiky hair, and it gave him a more serious look. It was the same Alex, regardless, that was what it mattered.

They all turned and walked down the aisle of the bustling cabin, eager to be out in the fresh, cold air where they could start their adventure. Paris thankfully was with a milder climate compared to the absolute cold that had been back in the east coast of North America.

Alex playfully grabbed Clear by the shoulders and followed her, massaging the tension out of her neck, elated by how brave they had all just been. These last few months had done something to dull out their memories, but this entire trip had still been a test that they had all passed with flying colors.

True, there had been a couple of minutes during takeoff when Alex's nerves had become a little dodhy, but Clear's hand squeezing his own had been enough to help him, and he had come through the experience with no problems whatsoever. Getting back on a plane and flying to this destination in particular was like the final kick in the balls to Death: not only had they beaten it, once and for all, but they had proved that they weren't afraid of it, and that they could take everything it could throw at them and they'd come bouncing back for more.

Now, they just had to get Carter through customs, and everything would be fine.

Rory Cunningham didn't consider himself to be lucky, but this time he had scored big. He had won tickets for Paris thanks to a raffle he had heard on the phone. All he had to do was answer details about rock bands, and he had scored a total on every question they threw at him. He had been so happy when he had gotten all of them correctly, that he had no choice but to hold a party in his apartment on that early November evening.

He recognized it was a mess. It was a sleazy apartment in a bad part of town in White Plains, where his mother, Victoria Henderson, still lamented that he lived in it. Rory hadn't always been like this. He had been raised in a good family, with parents that loved him very much, and that had given him everything. They sadly had a divorce when he was fifteen, which really affected him. That had been a time when he had taken a bad boy attitude, beating up some punks at school and hanging out with some questionable folks. He had been introduced to drugs, and instantly got hooked to them, something that broke both his mother and his father's heart when they found out.

He had promised he would quit them, after a beating that he had, but didn't take long for him to go back in his old ways. Once he turned eighteen, he was still stuck in the sophomore year of school. He had failed three years in particular, and had only left school by the age of twenty one. That had been when his father had died, which took both Rory and his mother on a difficult time. He had been living with her ever since her divorce, and he had decided to stay with her. Only a few years later he had managed to buy his own place, relatively far away from where he had been raised. It was a mess of a place, where he shared with two other sleazebags, Richard "Rickie" Lucas and Shawn Killian, whom he had met during school years.

He was still looking for a job, and Shawn was the only one who had a job to pay for their drugs and rent. It was a good paying job, but their price of life cost a lot.

Rory didn't like the fact that he was being a freeloader, unlike Rickie. But he had been so used to that lifestyle that there wasn't much point in him changing now. So he felt comfortable in doing what he did, only hoping that his mother wouldn't find out he lived like this. She had wanted to visit him more than once, but he always went to her home instead. He made sure he would try his best not to give her any bad smell from coke, or at least would just smell of weed.

But right now, he was having a blast in Paris. It was a shame he couldn't bring his buddies─one ticket only─but he promised he would have taken pictures to show them.

Right now, he was walking through Rue de Marseille, a place next to Canal de Saint-Martin. It was a good place to meet the good looking ladies of Paris, he was told. Not only that, it had plenty of bars and restaurants to sip on lattés and go out trippin'. It wasn't really the best in the more underground scene, but it was an alright place.

He wanted to go around somewhere else, maybe somewhere more crowded for more pictures to his pals. He had arrived during Christmas day, and would be staying for at least four more days. He wanted to do the best there was to do.

The big thing he wanted to do tonight was to go out and watch a play in a theater. Even if it didn't fit his style, Rory was a fan of arts in general, paintings, theater and movies. He didn't know why, but there was something fun about it.

Another thing which he was amazed at was how good he was at speaking French. It was mostly because he had taken lessons with his relative that had lived in French Canada for a long time, and he had learned since very young how to speak the idiom. It was almost as if destiny was bringing him here. Creepy, in overall.

Regardless, he was looking forward to all of this.

The trio had just left the hotel, barely after placing their baggage. Carter had been very lucky the customs were lenient, because they had caught him with his Jack Daniels bottles. He was taxed, but it could have been much worse. The interesting thing was that Carter had managed to talk with the agents without much help, considering that he slept during most of the French classes.

Regardless, there they were. A group of three friends, to spend time in Paris.

"So, where are we goin' next?" Carter asked, chewing a nail in his thumb.

"I was thinking of going and seeing the big thing first─The Eiffel Tower. I mean, it is the city's landmark, just like in New York with The Statue of Liberty, and with San Francisco, with The Golden Gate Bridge." Alex suggested.

Carter nodded, not arguing. He thought it was alright.

"Yeah, I guess going to the tourist traps first works the best, right? I think we could take a shortcut and then see Louvre afterwards." Clear added, looking at the map Alex pulled over, as they stopped next to a store. "Uhm, do you guys even remember where was it going to be the first few destinations when we were meant to come back in May?"

The trio looked at one another, trying to recall. It was a tough thought, and none of them seemed to have come up with anything.

"Sorry, Clear, no idea." Carter said last.

Clear nodded, not being able to think about it either. "Alright, yeah. I think it's a good idea to go around to do the classic trip. Let's go."

And so they did. They hitched a ride in order to see Paris' wonderful architecture and constructions. Carter too seemed amazed at how it looked like, just as Alex and Clear did. That seemed to be something they were all agreeing on.

It had been a very long day hanging through the streets of Paris, and it was nighttime already. Not even 6 pm, and it was already dark. The stars twinkled overhead as Alex, Clear and Carter ordered drinks at a little outdoor restaurant named café Le Miro 81, and sat back to enjoy the evening. It was so surreal to be here, after everything that had happened. Clear gazed around her in wonder as the waiter bustled off to get their menus, drinking it all in.

So, this was Paris. It was everything she expected, and more, mainly because she was sharing it with two people she actually gave a damn about. Everything seemed so fresh and vibrant. The places she had visited were great, the people she spoke too as well, and the food was so far amazing. The folks had tolerated Carter's rather pathetic attempts at speaking the language with good natured amusement, with Alex having some difficulties too, only Clear being the more fluent of the three.

The night air was cold, but not with negative temperatures like back in New York, fragrant with the smell of wood smoke and home cooking, and lights shone down on the trio from a distant hilltop as they sat back in their seats, relaxing and unwinding after their long trip.

Around them, the city bustled with a hive of activity: people out walking, talking, wining and dining, and generally enjoying the night air. An old man on a scooter slowly made his way across the cobbled streets, winding his way through the pedestrians and tourists on his way home. Lights were strung amid the bare branches of the trees, and overhead, neon crackled up and down the giant, cheerfully buzzing café sign, announcing the name of the restaurant in ten-foot tall letters.

"Voilà." The black-and-white uniformed waiter poured Alex his drink, then stepped back with a flourish as if he was serving him fine champagne rather than just beer in a fancy tall glass.

"Merci!" Alex replied, and he meant it. He leaned back in his seat and looked around him with an expression of deep satisfaction on his face. He breathed the fragrant evening air into his lungs, savouring the sights and sounds around him.

"Wow. It's weird being here, huh?" He said to Clear, smiling. "We finally completed the puzzle."

Clear looked at him with affection, smiling indulgently.

Then Alex caught Clear's eye and sighed, gazing around him with a wistful look on his face. "It's just… There's something missing…"

After a moment, Carter silently raised his glass. Alex stared at him for a second before he understood and lifted his own glass.

"To Terry." Carter said.

"To Tod." Alex replied.

"To all our friends who can't be here." Clear added, clinking her wine glass with the two boys. "Cheers."

They sipped their drinks in silence, eyeing each other; three friends at the end of a journey, in more ways than one. Carter took a mouthful of drink and then gave a strange little chuckle.

Alex looked at him. "What?"

Carter smiled ruefully, setting his glass down with a clank. "If you'd told me seven or six months ago that the three of us would be sitting here having a drink…"

Alex laughed, feeling the tension break over him like water, and he nudged Clear.

"Yeah."

Carter joined in his laughter, then his expression sobered up. All of his macho stupidity had gone, and a new light of confidence shone behind his eyes. He looked at his two classmates, his head cocked to one side as he mulled over the events of the last year. He only wished Fionna could be here to witness such a great reunion. He knew Alex and Clear would like her, and the same way around.

"No, I mean that, sometimes it feels like the two of you are the only ones who can really understand me. Not even Fionna really can do that." He admitted.

Alex looked hard at him, but there was no sarcasm in Carter's eyes.

He really meant it.

Wonders would never cease.

Outside the café, a lone acoustic guitarist in a scarf and flat cap began playing softly the opening bars of a pretty tune. As the notes drifted out across the night air, Carter sighed in contentment, leaning back in his chair.

"You were right, Browning. It did skip us. There was a design, but we beat it, you know? We won." He said.

"The only thing we've won, Carter, is the chance of a full life." Clear replied.

She looked across at Alex, her eyes shining, then reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. Her eyes lit up as she gazed up at him, her face flushed with pride. "A chance that I'm not going to waste."

Alex smiled back at her and then put down his drink. "THere's just something I can't figure out about the design…" He said, diving into his pocket for a piece of paper.

Carter rolled his eyes, grimacing at his classmate. 'Here we go again…' He thought.

"Alex, c'mon… just let it go, alright?" Clear scolded him. She'd heard enough about Death to last her a lifetime, even during these last few months. This was Paris. They were supposed to be enjoying themselves.

"Just hear me out, alright?" Alex pulled the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. It was the airplane seating plan, battered and creased by months of wear.

"Oh my God, dude!" Carter sighed, rolling his eyes. He couldn't believe Alex was still on this fate kick. This trip was all about putting the past behind them and restarting their lives, wasn't it? Why drag all this stuff up again now and bring them all down? The guy was obsessed!

"Clear, Carter, just hear me out." Alex insisted, holding his hands before scooting his chair in closer to the table and leaning forward over the diagram. "The path of the explosion determined the order of our deaths, right?"

Carter and Clear shared an ironic glance, but both said nothing.

Alex went on, unabashed, pointing at the seating chart. "When I intervened and saved Carter, it skipped him and went to the next person in the path of the explosion: Billy." Alex stabbed a finger at the page. "Then it was Clear, but I intervened and saved her so it went to me, but in my case, no one intervened, right?" He glanced up at the other two for confirmation, mistaking their looks of exasperation for looks of disbelief. He sat up, warming to his topic. "I was thrown from that power line by the explosion. So…"

Carter glowered. He'd had enough. "So you are asking yourself: 'Why did it skip me?', right?"

Clear sat forward, determined to put an end to Alex's little rant. "How do you know that this wasn't exactly what was meant to happen? That out of everyone on Flight 180, you, me and Carter were meant to live?"

Carter nodded and jerked a thumb at Clear, as if to say "Listen to the woman!"

"Maybe that was the design all along." Clear suggested gently.

Carter took a big swig of his beer. "Or… you could still be next." He said from a mouthful of foam.

That wasn't funny. Clear glared at him. "C'mon. Shut it, Carter."

In response, he grinned hugely at her, starting to enjoy this idea, then waggled his eyebrows at Alex. "What? I didn't make up the rules. Somebody's gotta intervene before Death can skip 'em. You've proved that three times. With the plane, with me, with you…" He straightened his jacket smugly. "For all I know, it could circle back and get us all again." He sat back triumphantly.

Alex shot him a dirty look.

Carter smirked, unfazed. "But I'm still the safest fucker in the world, because you're still next." He jammed his stubby fingernail down onto the seating plan, pointing to a seat marked with a big circle and the word "ME".

Alex stared down at the plan, blinking.

Slowly, a horrified realization began to dawn on him. For once in his life, Carter had a point

Slowly, a horrified realization began to dawn on him. For once in his life, Carter had a point. What if he was right? And why had he just assumed that once Death had run its course, it wouldn't just start all over again, never stopping until they were all dead and the laws of casualty had been righted?

Alex's mind went into overdrive, processing this new train of thought. Behind him, the acoustic guitarist started to sing. "Le montagne rocheuse haute. Ah, le Colorado!"

Alex didn't need to speak French to identify the song, and his hut lurched as he recognized the artist.

John fucking Denver, again!

"Look, can we talk about this later?" Clear said, sounding upset. She was feeling the tensions rise, and wanted to cool all of this down. But Alex wasn't listening to her.

A sick feeling slowly welled up in his stomach, and he suddenly saw himself, as though from above, sitting exposed in the tiny French restaurant, surrounded by a whole world full of danger. The sounds of the street faded out, and Alex turned around to stare over his shoulder at the thousand and one hazards that seemed to loom over him, all of a sudden, from every direction.

There! Across the road. A butcher rolled up the back of a delivery van and sunk his meat hook into a slab of hacked-open pork, the big's dirty ribcage exposed to everybody on the street. The butcher wasn't wearing any gloves.

Food poisoning! Salmonella!

Above him, up on some scaffolding, a workman dropped an iron bar, which rolled dangerously close to the edge, knocking over a bucket of nails which clattered down into the street, unnoticed.

Cracked skull! Tetanus!

A rather cold wind blew, and Alex jumped in his seat as the suited waiter ignited the heat lamp behind him. It caught with a rush of fire as the gas was turned up too high.

Burning! Electrocution!

Alex looked around him like a panicked obsessive compulsive who had just lost all of his keys, his heart hammering. The wind blew again in a sudden sharp blast, making the glasses on the table rattle. A moment later, Clear's glass of red wine spilled, gushing over the seating chart. Spooked, Alex jumped to his feet and stared down at it. The red wine ran down and pooled over his name, and to Alex's heated imagination, it looked just like blood.

Alex started, wild-eyed, then convulsively leapt away from the table, cold terror flooding his heart.

It wasn't over, even when it was over. Death had been mocking him, trying to lull him into a false sense of security while it bided its time, preparing to strike.

Carter looked at him in concern. So, Alex was freaking out again, what else was new? If things kept up like that, he and Clear should lock him up in a loony bin and be done with it. Of course, his former rival was freaking over the Death business, but wasn't it over? Clear had said for them to talk about it back on the hotel.

Still, he watched as Alex held up his hands, panting shallowly. He had gone as white as a sheet. Carter didn't want to admit, but he was concerned for Alex.

"I'm gonna meet you guys back at the hotel, okay?" Alex blurted.

"Just wait. I'll go with you." Clear sighed and reached under the table for her bag.

"We'll go all together." Carter said, dead serious. He wanted to make up to scaring Alex.

"No. Just stay here, both of you. Stay away." Alex held up a hand towards them in panic.

Carter frowned, looking at the wine-soaked seating chart, watching the design. "Alex, dude, I didn't mean to scare you. I just showed you how you could be next." He said, concerned.

"Yeah, Alex, we just want to help you. Carter isn't being an asshole, let us help you." Clear said, trying to reason with Alex. The last thing he needed was to have people stirr him up, in his current state.

It was too late, Alex was gone, unheard of them.

Clear shook her head sadly. So much for her romantic evening.

As Alex strode away, a strong cold wind kicked up out of nowhere. Clear frowned and turned her face into the wind, listening. Her now-blonde hair streamed out behind her, and she half-closed her eyes, as though trying to figure something out. Something was nagging at her from the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and her eyes flicked sideways to see the reflection of a green bus flowing across the café's large plate-glass window. Clear expectantly turned her head to the road to see…

Nothing.

The street was empty.

Carter seemed to see it too, widening his eyes to the dejá-vù they were both seeing. Especially him, considering that had been how Terry died and…

A sudden knife of dread slammed into Clear, and she glanced back over to Alex, starting to freak out. She just had the feeling that something was…

"ALEX, LOOK OUT!" She yelled, suddenly.

Alex reflexively leapt backwards as a bus came out of nowhere and shot towards him at high speed. Mindlessly, he stumbled backwards and threw up his hands to protect his head. A rush of stale wind sideswiped his face, and he staggered away from the road, his heart pounding.

'Missed me, asshole!' He thought.

Dammit, Carter was right! He couldn't believe Carter was right!

It wasn't over, even when it was over!

Ten feet further along, the bus lurched as the driver reacted too late to the boy who had just stepped out into the road. He yanked hard on the wheel, sending the bus careering into the opposite lane, right in front of an oncoming car.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. The car's horn beeped a warning, swerving rapidly to avoid the bus. The bus driver panicked and swung the wheel around to avoid the car, but it was travelling too fast for such a maneuver and instantly spun out of control. The wheel ripped itself from the driver's hands, spinning three-sixty as the bus mounted the sidewalk and rode along it, smashing a pile of wooden food crates into splinters and sending a delivery guy leaping for cover. Shouts and screams rang out as the bus struck an ancient iron lamppost beyond them. Such was its speed and momentum that it shattered the brittle base of the lamp, sending the whole thing spinning up into the air.

The end of the post described a curved trajectory as it hummed through the night air before impacting at full speed on the metal framework holding up the giant "Le Miro 81" sign on the rooftop. Sparks spat, and the sign exploded like a firework as the high-voltage power illuminating it was severed. The cables, which tethered the sign to the roof, snapped in quick succession.

The whole thing started to topple sideways.

At the last moment, it caught halfway off the roof, jerked to a halt by a chain that tethered one end to the rooftop, and the last three letters of the sign broke off and swung down towards the street, still attached to their power cables.

Alex had blinked twice and it had been over. He turned around in slow-motion, blinking owlishly upwards as the sign arced lazily down towards him through the night, swinging like a scythe on its one remaining cable…

"ALEX!" Clear screamed.

Alex's jaw started to drop as the sign fell towards him. There was no time to think, to move, to even breathe before─

BLAM! Alex fell hard on the ground as Carter grabbed him in a flying tackle and knocked him out of the path of the giant swinging sign. An instant later, the sign whizzed over his head with such force that if he had still been standing there, he would have been instantly decapitated.

The two boys rolled over and over before finishing up in a heap in the gutter. As the bus ground to a shuddering halt behind them, Carter pushed himself off Alex and convulsively jumped to his feet, backing away and staring at the devastation that surrounded Alex─the honking cars, the crashed bus, the shattered sign, the screaming Parisians.

"I TOLD YOU YOU WERE NEXT, ALEX!" Carter panted, staring down at Alex.

Alex lay on the ground, too freaked out to move. Two near-death experiences in under ten seconds had been a little too much for even him to take. On top of all, this mirrored what happened to Carter back six months ago, when he saved him from the freight train.

Boy, had he been lucky that Carter had been there to save him.

A sudden realization slammed into his head, and Alex levered himself up on his elbows, staring up at Carter.

"Then it just skipped me!" He said breathlessly.

Carter stated to reply, but Alex was no longer listening. All of his attention was currently focused on the three, ten-foot tall, neon letters silently whirring towards Carter's head on the backswing.

Seen upside down, the letters read "180".

Carter frowned, raising his arms upwards in question. "Then, who's next?" He asked.

Rory was fucking late and he had to get to the damn theather as fast as he could. He knew he should have left that damn bar earlier, to avoid getting into those traffic jams. It didn't fucking matter wherever you were, the car traffic was everywhere.

Just his damn luck. Rory had always been late to do his own things, and he always got into trouble for it. He had put in his mind to be careful, but he hadn't learned in twenty six years of age, why would he learn it now?

Those tripping lattés sure tasted good tho. And he had time to snort some coke, so he was all fired up, full of energy. He hoped he wouldn't be sweating like a pig, even if it was cold. Not only the lattés, but the French girls around him, all of them were Grade A hotties. He'd be sure to tell every detail of his trip to his friends.

He wanted to give them a call, but if he kept calling everyone all the time, the phone bill would skyrocket. Not that he wasn't screwed, but he didn't want things to get worse.

"Allez, déplacez-le!" Rory yelled, for the cars to move. He was on foot, but the intersection was too damn busy, and he was having a hard time to cross the street.

He decided to try his luck, and then went running like a madman, almost getting hit by a car in the process. He yelped in the process and almost fell over, but managed to cross it without problems.

He chuckled, shrugging it off, and then continued to make his way towards the theater. The streets were packed, even now that he was in a relatively bohemian neighborhood, full of folks enjoying the cold night air out.

He decided to take a shortcut through the narrow cobbled streets to get there quickly, wanting to save up some time. That felt like a good idea, because things had been much better there.

That is, until he heard an English or American girl scream a name, and then heard a lot of loud noises, like a huge traffic accident had happened very close to where he was. He could see some folks rushing to their windows to see what was that all about, and he too decided to race towards the scene. When he got there, he saw just in time for a teen boy save another teen boy from getting hit by a neon sign.

Rory gave a loud whoa, impressed how close they both were to getting sliced in two. That shit seemed to belong to an action movie if anything, it was crazy!

Then, he saw just in time for the boy in a leather jacket getting hit by a neon sign, and getting completely whacked by the neon sign, that came whooshing back at him. The guy got completely smashed against the wall, like a bug getting swatted by a huge hand. His skeleton had completely been broken and he got twisted against the metal and the wall of the building, the damage being incalculable.

Rory couldn't believe his own eyes! That had been horrible!

A teen girl joined the other boy, and both looked in horror, alongside everyone who had seen such a sad thing tonight. Rory hadn't paid attention to them, as his eyes wouldn't leave the body of the other guy. His stomach gave a great lurch, and he turned away, disgusted, to puke.

All the alcohol, drugs and food infused inside his stomach came out with a vengeance. He puked long enough, which gave him a foul taste, and made him feel too dizzy.

He had a theater to go? Fuck that, he wasn't going anymore! He had seen enough gore to ruin his day completely. He turned around, but the boy and the girl had been gone now, and the other citizens gathered around, yelling instinctively for paramedics and other personnel to try and save this poor dude.

Rory thought it was too late for him─that guy really looked whacked. There would be no way to save him.

Rory covered his mouth again, trying not to get disgusted at the sight.

The Hotel seemed silent, and too eerie. Even for Clear, it almost felt unbearable to be here. Clear was looking at Alex, who almost seemed like a ceramic doll, looking fixedly at the floor, without focus and the artificial eyes betraying the lack of emotions.

She couldn't bear to see him like this, but there was nothing she could do about it, either. She was scared, and the air was heavy.

It had almost been Alex the one who had died that moment, hadn't Carter acted on the very last moment and saved her boyfriend's life. She had come this close to losing the second most important person of her life, and she didn't know how to feel, neither she really wanted to think about it. Everything about this seemed to hurt.

Alex, in the meantime, was quiet, but his mind was racing. Carter had been dead right on the spot, about the fact that Death had returned, this time with a vengeance. It had waited for them both, to lull them into a false sense of security, just so it could let them think everything was fine, to strike at the very last second.

He should have been smarter, and he should have seen that coming. He knew it was too good to be true the fact that Death would let them be. It would continue to strike, strike and strike again, until they were all dead. There was no way Death could be defeated.

Alex had suddenly felt like a piece of shit. All the nightmare he had gone through the summer was now back, happening again. It was going to strike Clear first, and then Alex afterwards, and it would start over and over again.

It almost felt like all of this happened months ago, and yet it had been only an hour or so. Alex and Clear were both fucked, and there was no way anyone could convince them otherwise that the contrary would be the case.

"What are we gonna do, Clear?" Alex said, all of a sudden.

Clear was looking at him, eyes questioning, full of fear and uncertainty. She had no idea on how to respond to Alex's question.

"I don't know, Alex…" Clear said, scared. It had been a long time since she felt like this, and she wished she wouldn't have ever felt such a thing.

"You know, I feel like it's not even the point of asking such a thing but…" Alex said, taking a deep breath, and exhaling. "Why is this even happening to me? To us?"

Clear shook her head, not sure how or what to answer. Tears welled up on her eyes as she considered all the factors through what they had lived through. All that herculean effort to escape the nightmare of being killed, only for Death to give them five months, to strike back at them. It wasn't fair, but then again, what was?

"We gotta go back, I'm not staying in here any time longer than I'm supposed to." Alex said, anger rising in his voice. "Everywhere I'll look it'll remind me of Carter, of Tod, of Ms. Lewton, of everyone. And I'm dead fuckin' tired of thinking about all this shit!"

Clear closed her eyes, having heard Alex's rage-filled rant. It had been a long time since he had been like what, seven months ever since Alex had this anger inside him, bubbling up by all the emotions that were affecting him, on the weight of having survivors on his back, on his discoveries about life-and-death situations, of everything. She hated it, but she had to give him the right to feel like this. But she still hated this anger-filled Alex. It wasn't like how he was, in school, while playing with friends, with everything.

"Are you listenin' to me, Clear?!" Alex yelled, almost sounding like a madman.

"I heard you, Alex!" Clear yelled back, angrily. "What am I supposed to do? I'm here, thinking about all the nightmare we are going through, and how this started over ever since we got here. And now Carter is dead!"

Alex took a moment to hear all her words, and nodded, looking away. "And now Carter is dead. Fuckin' great. What are we gonna tell his parents? And his new girlfriend too, that he was killed by a freak accident? Or what? And more importantly: What are we gonna do about us?"

"I wish I knew, Alex. I really do. But there is nothing we can do. Death is back, and we are living this nightmare again, just like six months ago." Clear lamented. She was feeling like she wanted to cry, that she wanted to let tears out, but they just wouldn't come. Eerie fucking moment of happiness in her life, there was always a "but". Whenever she would start over, life would come back at her with a vengeance, and this wouldn't stop until she was dead.

Clear really never was suicidal, but she thought maybe now she was having a few tendencies. Only Alex was keeping her in line.

"We gotta go back… but how?" Alex said, mentioning their trip. "There is no point in doing this trip now that Carter is dead. But, if we take the airplane, will we explode on take off, like a replay of Flight 180? No, we can't take the risk, there has got to be another way out of here."

"But how? If we take an airplane, Death will hunt us down. If we take a cruiser, it will take weeks until we arrive, and Death could hunt us there. There is no way we can go back by land, there are no roads from France to the United States." Clear said, considering the possibilities, and almost sounding like a whacko herself. She hated it.

"We got to go back, one way or another, Clear." Alex said, looking around the room like a wide-eyed maniac. "We can't stay here forever. And we are safer back at home than we are here at the hotel."

"Huh? But wouldn't Death just act everywhere in the world, no matter where we go?" Clear stated in a matter-of-fact way, unhappily.

"That's the problem: It will. Even if we are here, or back at home, or even on fucking Jupiter." Alex said, sounding paranoid. "But we have an ally back there. The mortician─William Bludworth."

Clear furrowed her brows, and looked quizzically at Alex. She couldn't believe he was mentioning this man again. She had heard of him before and met him like once or twice before the last time, but she didn't have the level of intimacy he was thinking she had.

"William Bludworth is one person, Alex. He already said everything we have to know about Death. I don't think we have anything else to ask him." Clear stated.

"I still feel like there is something he is hiding from us." Alex said, skeptically. "He said to me last time: 'I'll see you soon'. Maybe he had a way of knowing I was going to see him again, to ask questions or something. I feel like this is the first thing we gotta do once we go back."

Clear nodded, then shook her head, unwilling to argue with Alex. She couldn't believe she was on board with this idea, but what was she gonna do?

"What about the airplane? Are we really going back like that? Will you be up to flying?" Clear asked, unsure of herself.

Alex pondered, considering his fear of flying. He had to go back, screw his fear of flying. There was no way he could be inside this hotel room forever, as pretty as it looked like.

He had to decide.

They thought they were safe. RIP Carter.

I decided to expand a few things, such as an aftermath after Carter's death, and the inclusion of Rory, from Final Destination 2.

Not my favorite ending. This puts Alex and Clear at odds with Death. Will they make it to the sequel? I hope I can get Final Destination 2's novel to transcribe it eventually, since it seems to be a pretty good one.

Congratulations for making to the end. What did you think of the novel? Be sure to rate and comment please.

I plan on doing more Final Destination novels in the future. Stay tunned!