Chapter Two
Kyle was heavier than Cartman had imagined he would be. The body-filled bag lay heavily in the brunette's arms, only making the youth wish that he could give into the demands of his screaming muscles and take the weight off of his bones. But he couldn't. He was already in phase two of his plan, and he wasn't about to give up his whole scheme, because his arms were a little tired.
In the bag, Kyle was silent. His chest slowly rose and fell with deep, calm breaths. His mind was still buried deep within the waves of unconsciousness, but Cartman knew it wouldn't be long before he woke. He had to act quickly, or his whole plan could fail.
With each step, Cartman's feet sunk under the snow. If he hadn't been smart and worn the boots his mother had bought him only several days ago, he was sure his feet would be like the state of the skin on his face; terribly frozen. The youth shivered, his white lips never ceasing in their quivering. Above him, tiny snowflakes gently descended from the sky, throwing themselves to the ground, and blending in with the rest of the snow-covered bank. Cartman usually loved the snow, but as of now, he found it completely annoying and unnecessary.
"Fucking ginger, making me hate the snow..." Cartman spat softly, sending a quick glance to the figure underneath the fold of the bag. "This is all your fault. If you had just shut your damned pie-hole today during school, none of this would be happening."
There was no reply. Cartman was greeted by silence. The brunette sighed, but it was more of happiness than annoyance now. Usually, Kyle would have shot him a rude remark, or an insult. Perhaps comment on his weight, or his lack of intelligence. But there was nothing. Just sweet, sweet silence. And Cartman loved every single moment of it.
"I'm not gonna kill you," Cartman looked away from the bag now, and up to where he was going. Ahead of him, there were a few houses placed here and there, but besides that, it was mostly empty mountain space. There were no streetlights, which made it nearly impossible for the boy to see. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Kalh. I'd love to kill you. You're just like the rest of the Jesus-killing Jew-rats. And even after today, I really, really want to kill you."
The teenager ground his teeth at the thought of the event that took place during school earlier that day. The one that made Kyle seem like a hilarious genius. The one that made Cartman seem like a complete idiot. He was humiliated. Slowly, he shut the eyes, and forced the memory to the back of his mind. There'd be plenty of the time to think about that later. Now, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.
"But killing you would be too good for you, Kahl." Cartman continued on with his one-sided conversation, his tone kept soft. "Burning in a lake of fire in Hell with Satan seems a bit too good for you. So I'm going to do something else to you. You... you stupid Jew... I'm going to make sure you're miserable for the rest of your life. ...However much longer that may be, honestly."
Cartman looked around, his eyes narrowing in a squint, as he tried to spot the house he was looking for. He had only visited his location once or twice... one of those visits being for a similar reason. His eyes gently darted back and fourth, peering through the tiny snowflakes as he looked for any sign of the only slightly familiar residence.
Finally, his eyes locked upon one house in particular. Cartman's thin lips slowly curved upward into a triumphant smirk. "Ah, here we are..." His tone got even softer, though his pace picked up as he began to head toward his wanted destination. "Stan's Uncle Jimbo's house."
There was still silence from the bag. ...Which was a good thing. Of 'course it was a good thing. Cartman had to keep reminding himself that. He wasn't used to the Jew being so... quiet. Even if they only hardly ever exchanged normal conversations, Kyle was usually talking to Stan or Kenny. ...Or to himself, but that was only once in a while, and for a short period of time.
"I hear Jimbo and Ned went to Denver for a couple weeks," Cartman explained to the unconscious red-head as he neared Jimbo's house. "Believe it or not, Jimbo's thinking of moving there. And I think Ned's just going because... well, I'm not really sure why." Cartman admitted. "That dude's always following Jimbo around. ...But the point is, the house will be empty for quite a while."
The front door was only several feet away, now. But Cartman wasn't going to enter the house itself. Nope. Instead, he quickly turned and began to move to the side of the house. His steps in the snow made soft noises, but not loud enough to attract anything that could have been inside or around the house. Cartman took caution as he walked, his head tilted downward, his brown eyes scanning left and right, looking for anything he could have stepped on or tripped on that would cause noise. Even if no one was at the house... he didn't really want to be caught doing what he was doing.
"Remember the time you had your birthday at Casabonita?" Cartman asked the unconscious boy. "You invited Butters, but I wanted to go, so I got rid of him. You found out later, of 'course, but I still had my fun at the restaurant."
A faint smile spread across Cartman's already smirking lips, as he remembered himself tearing through the building, taking other people's chips and diving into the pool from atop the waterfall... all while being chased by the police.
"Anyway, you discovered it was I, who was responsible for Butter's absence." Cartman explained. "But, I doubt you truly know what I did to Butters."
There was no reply. Cartman, again, reminded himself that the lack of response from the unconscious Jewish boy was a good thing. He wasn't dead. Just unconscious. And it was finally peace for Cartman's poor ears.
"He was eventually moved to a dump, but before that, I put him in Jimbo's bomb-shelter. There was only a little bit of space, but there was plenty of food for him to eat. Food that could have lasted a couple years, actually." Cartman remembered what the inside of the bomb-shelter looked like. It had been so many years ago. "But he was alone, Keyl. So very alone..." Cartman, though he wanted to smirk down at Kyle, continued to look straight ahead and turned the corner of the house. In Jimbo's back yard, there were a couple trees, plants, shovels, and... the entrance to the bomb shelter.
"And that's exactly what I'm going to do to you, Jew-boy.
"I admit, it's kind of... out of character for me." Cartman gave a slight sigh. "I could have just ground your parents up into chilli and fed them to you as revenge. Or given you a laxative-filled cupcake. Or gave you AIDs. ...Or gone into your room and torn the head off of one of your stuffed animals..." Cartman frowned at that last one, remembering Clyde Frog, one of his beloved stuffed animals. "But I've decided that any of those are too good for you, Jew."
In a matter of moments, Cartman had reached the entrance of the bomb-shelter. He dropped Kyle upon the ground, and gave a relieved sigh when he heard no grunt of pain that would have given away that the youth was actually awake. Slipping past the bag-covered body, Cartman made his way to the bomb-shelter. The top of the shelter – the handle of the shelter – was just a giant metal lid, with a twistable handle at the top. Cartman eyed the handle, taking note of the slippery surface, the bars caked with ice and snow. Rubbing his mitten-covered hands together, Cartman reached forward and took hold of the bars. Fortunately for him, the lid didn't take much force or strength before it popped open. Cartman gave another smirk of triumph and pulled open the slid, watching as it rose all the way up, and then stayed there. Cartman turned back now, and, to the protest of the muscles in his arms, scooped up Kyle's still unconscious body, and looked down into the bomb-shelter. There was a long latter that descended into the underground, where the little room with all the food was stored. The youth's brows kitted together in a concentrated frown. Slowly, he lifted his arms up, and hoisted Kyle over his shoulder. Struggling, but with amazing effort, Cartman held Kyle's bagged body with one hand, and began to climb down the latter. Every time his wet, snow-covered boot hit one of the bars of the latter, he slipped, and gave himself a mini-heart attack. Thoughts of slipping and falling to his death weren't very appealing to the brunette. He just wanted to put Kyle in the shelter, and then leave.
"Loneliness often drives a man insane, Kahl." Cartman informed the unconscious body, with a exhausted, concentrated grunt in his town. He carefully took another step down, and to his relief, didn't slip. "It can drive a man to suicide, even. So what I'm hoping, is that you'll get so lonely, with no one to save you or keep you company, that you'll find some way to kill yourself, and end your own life." Cartman gave a sly smile. "Because no one will be coming for you, Kahl. You see, I've arranged for Jimbo to stumble upon a house in Denver that I know he'll love. And when he gets back here, he'll be so busy trying to get the house, and of 'course going to the bar and having goodbye parties with his friends, that he'll forget that he ever even had a bomb-shelter."
Cartman took another step, slipped slightly, but held on tight. Once he knew he was set, he took yet another step, edging closer and closer to the end of the latter.
"When we left your house earlier, Keyl," Cartman mumbled. "I left a note for your parents, explaining that you were extremely unhappy with your current life, and that you've run away to fulfill your life-long dream of joining the circus. Your parents will be so busy trying to find you at different circus areas, that they won't even think to check around town, and see if you're still anywhere around."
Cartman, for the third time that night, gave another triumphant smirk as he felt the bottom of his shoe hit the solid floor of the bomb shelter. Gently, Cartman lifted the body off of his shoulder, and rested it against the ground. He moved quickly now, untying the ropes around Kyle's feet, and pulling the bag away from his body.
There Kyle lay, still breathing, but unconscious, laying against the cold ground in his Terrance and Phillip pajamas. His body lightly shook from the cold. Cartman knew it wouldn't be long before the Jew woke from the lack of warmth. He'd most likely think about where he was, try to get out, and after an hour of doing that, fetch a blanket and plan his escape.
But there would be no escape. Not this time. Cartman's plan was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Nothing could get in his way, now. He continued smirking down at Kyle, his eyes lit with pleased victory. He could just imagine the ginger-rat several days from now; crying because he was lonely and wanted to go home. It filled Cartman with so much sick pleasure, he almost found it unbearable. Nothing could go wrong now. Everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Cartman?" Or maybe not.
Cartman's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped while he sucked in a startled breath. He turned around, and tilted his head upward, peering toward the top of the bomb shelter. On the outside, there was the silhouette of a person. A young person. Cartman could tell by the figure of the body. If it wasn't for the poof-ball hat that made the mystery obvious, Cartman would have been irritated to admit that he had no idea who was up there.
"S-Stan!" Cartman's words began to stumble. "A-Ah! Oho, uh... Hey, dude! What, uh... what are you doing here?"
Stan was hesitant on replying. Cartman could tell he was trying to look beyond the male. Look to the body behind him. Cartman only hoped to God that Kyle's body was safely hidden behind him.
"My Uncle Jimbo is out of town, and he said he'd give me twenty bucks to watch his house."
"Whohoa, dude! Twenty bucks? To watch a house? That's kickass!"
"Yeah..." Stan mumbled. He sounded uncertain, his tone laced with confusion. Cartman didn't have to look hard enough to know that Stan was raising his eyebrow at the sight before him. His friend in his Uncle's bomb-shelter. Yeah, that was normal.
"So, why are you in my Uncle's bomb-shelter, Cartman?"
Cartman's lips parted to reply, but he almost went at a loss for words, as he watched Stan turn around, and begin to climb down the latter. Cartman's eyes widened further than they already were, and he looked behind himself, to the unconscious, completely silent Kyle behind him. There was no way Cartman could hide the Jew. He'd have to make up a lie. Lies were the best things. They always got him out of trouble.
"Well..." Cartman looked back to Stan, watching (with just a tad bit of amazement) as Stan gracefully descended the latter, not once tripping from the snow under his wet shoes. "Kyle texted me, and told me to meet him here."
"Really? Kyle did?" Stan tried to look over his shoulder as he spoke.
"Yeah, I was pretty confused too, but, umm..." Cartman looked to Kyle again, and then to Stan. "Umm... he... was unconscious when I got here. And he's in his pajamas..."
"What?!"
Stan moved much quicker now, his slim, lean body nearly sliding down the latter. He landed on the ground with a soft thud, and turned around. His eyes flicked to Cartman, but then quickly darted to Kyle's limp, unconscious figure on the ground. Instant worry flooded in his gaze, and before Cartman's mind even registered that Stan was moving, the raven-haired teen was at his best friend's side, kneeling in front of him. One hand was placed on Kyle's shoulder as he gently shook him.
"Kyle? Kyle, can you here me?" He asked. No response. Kyle was off. Stan looked at Kyle a moment longer, before turning to look at Cartman. "Is he okay?" He asked.
Cartman tried to hide his nervousness and lightly shrugged. "I dunno, dude. Like, I just got here."
"Well... we should do something! He might be hurt, or... or something!" Stan hurriedly pulled Kyle into his arms. He pressed the back of his hand against the Jew's forehead, as if trying to feel his temperature. "He's freezing..." The youth noted aloud.
Cartman slowly began to back away. "Well... Maybe I should go and call someone..."
"Wait..." Stan's tone was, again, uncertain. He became slightly hesitant once more, and Cartman watched with absolute dread as Stan leaned into Kyle and took a breath. "Cartman... I think he was drugged..." Stan's head turned to the left, and, for the first time since he'd entered the bomb shelter, he noticed the bag and the rope. "Cartman...?"
Cartman quickly turned and began to climb up the latter. He tried to be quiet, hoping to sneak away before Stan turned to look at him again, and notice he was taking his leave. It would only be a few moments before Stan put the pieces of the puzzle together.
"Cartman... did you... did you drug Kyle and drag him here in a bag? ...Cartman? Hey! Cartman!"
"Ah... G-Gotta go, Stan! My Mom wanted me home by eleven. It's eleven-thirty...!" Cartman nearly squeaked as he made his way up the latter. All he could think was Gogogogogogogogogo! Go, before Stan grabs you and makes you explain what was going on!
"Cartman, come back here!"
There was the sound of shuffling following Stan's voice, but Cartman didn't dare take the risk of turning around to look, and slowing himself down. Trying his best not to slip, he reached the top of the bomb-shelter, and stumbled onto the cold snow. He then turned again, and clasped his hands on the metal handle of the bomb shelter's lid.
"CARTMAN! DON'T YOU DARE CLOSE THAT FUCKING LID!"
Cartman ignored Stan's screaming demand and pulled the lid shut. The last thing he heard from the raven-haired boy was his protesting scream, before the lid connected with the other part of the bomb-shelter, and latched into place. Cartman stumbled backwards and tripped, giving a light yelp as his ass landed into the snow. He watched the lid with wide eyes, hearing just the faintest of banging sounds. He could picture Stan on the other side, throwing his fists against the cold metal lid, demanding that Cartman open it up and let them free.
This was wrong.
He meant to lock just Kyle in the bomb shelter. Not both Kyle and Stan. Though he hated Stan almost as much as he hated Kyle, he knew Stan didn't deserve to be locked away and forgotten about. But what else could he do? If he released Stan, he'd also be releasing Kyle. And that no-good filthy Jew-rat deserved to rot in loneliness. ...But he wasn't lonely. Not anymore. Nope. Now, he had Stan. And together, killing themselves would take much, much longer.
"God damn it. This was a horrible idea." Cartman muttered to himself, eyes still fixed on the lid of the bomb shelter. It was easier getting dumbass Butters into the bomb shelter. There were no problems like this. But Kyle and Stan? This was ridiculous. This was probably one of Cartman's worst ideas ever.
"Ah... damn it." Cartman muttered. Slowly, he let his hand sink into the snow as he struggled to lift himself off the ground. When he was finally standing, be brushed the dirt off of himself, and looked to the shelter again. The banging had stopped, and all that greeted him now, was silence.
"Sorry, Stan." Cartman whispered an honest apology. "But I can't risk myself getting in trouble. I could be grounded for five... maybe six days. I just... can't take that risk." Cartman slowly turned, and, with one last look at the bomb-shelter, began to walk away.
"I'll make sure your family knows you went to join the circus."
Thank you for reading! Finally, Stan is here! Took him a while, didn't it? I tried to keep all the characters in-character, which is a hard thing for someone like me to do. XD Anyway, if you enjoyed, leave a review! I'm happy to take suggestions, and more than happy to hear what you have to say about the story. You can find the DeviantART version of this fic on my DA account: TheRainbowFlag. Thanks all! ^-^
I do not own any of the mentioned characters. They were created and owned by Matt Stone and Trey Parker.