Chapter Five
One Down, Two Down
Silence reigned supreme for long minutes as they only stared at the wreck of their temporary area, until Kyle reluctantly murmured,
"We...we were only gone for—"
"We were gone long enough for somebody to do this." Stan said, looking slightly sick.
Cartman snorted. "At least now we know someone did murder that little f—"
"Don't. Start." Stan snarled.
"Jesus Christ, it looks like a tornado came through here..." Clyde whispered, glancing at Token nervously.
The black boy looked at them all. "Does...does this mean we're in trouble?"
"What?" Kyle asked nervously. Token pointed a trembling finger to the menacing words scratched on the side of Cartman's van.
"Guys, I really think we're in trouble."
"Fuck, man, there's some crazy bastard out in here! Shit, I ain't staying!" Clyde shot off toward the left, toward where the road was, and Stan ran after him, grabbing him by the arm.
"Wait! You can't go by yourself!" He yanked him to a stop, turning to face the rest of them. "We can't go alone anywhere anymore!" He paused, looking at them steadily. "Whoever did this, they could be waiting. Watching us." He glanced at the tires. "The guy has a knife, at the very least. We're not safe alone."
"We need to leave!" Clyde screeched, fighting to escape Stan's grip. "We need to go and find the road, and go where Craig and—" he froze, face paling. "Oh God, what if he's already got Craig and Tweek? You bastards let them go all alone!"
"Shut the fuck up, you little pussy!" Cartman suddenly spat out, looking contemptuous. "This shit probably ain't even real; some goddamn fucking kids are probably campin' out here and decided to screw with us. Bunch of faggots messed up my van!"
"Faggots who may have also killed someone." Kyle butted in harshly. "Or do I have to remind you that we still don't have Butters around? Who the hell is that shirt from anyway, huh? Where did the blood come from?"
"Whatever." Cartman scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't believe this for shit. You guys can acts like a bunch of scared bitches; I'm gonna find me a bottle that ain't broke. Have fun, idiots."
He strode off, crunching glass underfoot as he made his way toward the van. Kyle glared after him, and Token sighed.
"You ever wonder what this might have been like if it had been Cartman instead?"
"All the fucking time." Kenny growled. He needed a drink; thinking about Butters dying made his heart ache.
Stan gestured wearily. "Come on. We need to rebuild the fire. We're waiting here until Tweek and Craig come back with help." He looked toward Clyde, who had opened his mouth to speak. "I'm certain they're fine. Now, let's go."
The day passed with extreme slowness as they built up their scattered fire for a night that was hours away and cleared away glass with branches, and every time Kenny picked up a piece of wood to throw it into the flames, he was reminded of Butters' happily proud face as he had taught them how to do this.
Jesus Christ, this wasn't possible. He didn't want to think that Butters was dead, how could he? Only a few hours ago they were having fun, smoking and drinking around this very place. It wasn't like everyone had hung out like that all the time; Clyde and Token hung in different circles and no one talked to Butters. It had been different, but nice. Like all a small reunion of the guys from elementary school. If Craig and Tweek hadn't gone to find help, they would have been a part of it too.
He'd just been getting to know Butters. And the kid wasn't even that bad, he was actually pretty cool. Kenny's fingers clenched. He'd only been looking for some friendship. He hadn't deserved to die.
Kenny glanced around. Everybody was sitting silently, and a tense air hung around them all: Stan and Kyle sat side by side on a log, both of them passing between them a large bag of chips, staring silently into the fire. Token was poking buttons of his expensive phone, probably trying to find a signal or something. Clyde was sitting in between Token and Kenny, knees drawn to his chest and glancing every couple of minutes or so into the woods around them, squirming slightly.
Cartman was leaning on the side of his van, nursing a bottle of liquor he had found under the front seat. The only one left, he thought, and Kenny didn't think fatass was willing to share. Not that he thought anybody else wanted a drink but him.
Hours passed before anybody broke the silence, and it was Clyde this time, voice strangely muffled. Kenny wondered if he'd been holding back tears.
"Guys...I think we need to go and get help ourselves. Maybe we can...y'know, catch up to Craig and Tweek."
"The time's passed where we could do that." Token said lowly, eyes fixed on the ground.
Stan nodded. "Token's right. It's nearly night again; we don't want to be caught out there at night, alone."
"But I wanted to leave! Why didn't we?" Clyde shot up, pointing an accusing finger at Stan. "You're the one who made us stay, goddammit! You fucking bastard, there's a fucking killer out there and you made us stay!"
The raven stayed silent and it was Kyle who picked up the thread. "If we were all going to leave together, we should have done it all at once, not just left Tweek and Craig to do it themselves. But we didn't because none of us wanted to leave the fucking booze. Now there's no point in it. We already sent two people, and there's no point in us leaving and possibly getting a ride from some person in a different direction, when they're getting help already."
"Night is coming down quick." Stan murmured. "It's too dangerous. And if Butters is still alive," he glanced toward Kenny. "We need to be here in case he makes his way back. He might see the fire in the dark."
"I still think you're bein' a bunch of retards." Cartman suddenly spoke from the van, eyes half-lidded and nearly empty bottle clutched in loose hands. He was drunk, or at the very least getting there.
"There's no goddamned killer out there. Jus' some bastard who wants t' fuck with us." His words were heavy as he lumbered toward them, uncrossing his arms. "He wants to get 'n our head, y'know? He prob'bly came across Butters' damn shirt in the rocks, and he ripped it out, but accidentally left a piece in there. Jus' some fucking bitch who ain't got the balls to show himself!" The last part he roared out toward the woods, screaming at the darkening trees. He laughed, then held up the bloody remains of Butters' shirt in his free hand. Kenny hadn't seen him take it.
"And Butters? Shit, Butters is dead. You all need t'get that. He prob'ably fell and cracked open his head, and stumbled over th' cliff on accident. Everyone knows head wounds bleed like a bitch." He took another swig of his bottle, and spat the liquid over the cloth, tossing it into the flames. It caught fire instantly.
No one moved to stop him, and Cartman continued, words slightly slurred.
"For all we know, the faggot who's doin' this prob'bly lives around here, and he came across Butters in the night, and got scared and accidentally killed 'im. He dragged his body over and tossed him, then saw the shirt caught an' decided to do this so we'd get scared an' leave. Bastard's tryin' to cover his tracks...doesn't want nobody t'know he killed the blonde bitch."
Token looked at him distainfully. "Sit down, Cartman. You're drunk."
"That was th' point, wasn't it, y'nigger?"
"Don't call me that."
"I'll call you whatever I want, this is my trip." Cartman snarled.
"And look where the hell that got us, you fucking fat tub of lard." Kyle bit out, his muscles clearly tense in the firelight.
"Shut up, Jew." The fat boy, amazingly, started to laugh. "I'm not th' one running around, scared shitless." He came closer, settling down on the log he had sat on from last night, and his grin seemed lurid, sly and almost demonic as he leaned in closer. "I'm not scared like you, Jew. Do you know why?"
"Fuck off." Kyle spat out. "I don't want to hear anything about your fat ass."
"I have a littl' somethin'...a little friend with me..." Cartman reached behind his thick jacket, pulling out a gun.
"Holy—!" Everyone tensed up at the sight, and Cartman laughed again, staring at the weapon almost lovingly.
"It's a Glock 19...standard police issue, you know...if that bastard comes sneakin' around here, I'll shoot his motherfucking brains out. I'm a good shot...you wanna see?" He raised the gun to point at Kyle, and the redhead's eyes widened fearfully.
"Bang!" Cartman laughed maniacally, and Stan glared at him. Kenny could see he was itching to fight.
"Yeah, we get it, Cartman. You're a big, scary, drunk man. Now put that shit away."
They locked eyes, and silent glares clashed as a taut moment passed. Stan's voice was low, warning.
"Put. It. Away."
The fatass stared at him for another moment, then tucked it back underneath his jacket, baring his teeth. "Don't come cryin' to me when some crazy psycho's gonna cut you open. There ain't a bullet in here with your life's name on it."
"You said it yourself." The raven replied mockingly. "There's no killer out there."
Another long moment, then Clyde stood up, looking at Cartman nervously. "I, uh, I gotta go take a piss."
Kyle looked up at him. "Do it behind the van, you shouldn't go off into the woods right now."
Clyde giggled almost hysterically. "Shit, I'm not doing that. Don't want you guys watching."
"Clyde, we had football practice together for seven years. Everyone's seen your goddamn dick."
Clyde shook his head anxiously, backing up. "No, no, I'll, uh, I won't go far. I'll be right back. Swear."
He jogged off toward the woods, quickly disappearing behind a couple of trees. Token yelled out, "That's far enough, Clyde!"
His voice came back, close enough that they could hear it okay. "I'm fine! Let me take a fucking leak, okay?"
"Don't go any farther!"
"Alright, alright, DAD."
"Bastard." Token muttered, settling back into his seat on the ground.
Kenny spoke up from where he had watched it all, his voice slightly scratchy from lack of use. "He's scared. He's been wanting to cry for the last four hours. He probably isn't taking a leak or anything."
"Pussy." Cartman scoffed.
"Shut up, Cartman, just shut the fuck up." Kenny turned a hollow gaze onto the brunet. "If there's at least one shred of human decency in your damned soul, shut up for five damn minutes. No one wants to hear you right now."
Cartman stared at him, then against all belief, sighed, putting the bottle to his lips again. "Whatever y'say, po' boy."
Token spoke up again. "How long do we wait until we leave ourselves?"
Stan looked up at the setting sun, brows furrowed. "If Craig and Tweek don't come back by tomorrow morning, we pack what we can and leave. We can hitch a ride by the road, or at the very least walk."
Kyle smiled grimly. "What are we thinking about those two anyway?"
Kenny shrugged. "So far, we've really only seen that the guy had a knife. He used a rock to break the windows. I don't think he could have taken Craig that easily. Not with Tweek around."
"The guy's a beast where Tweek's involved." Token agreed.
Stan gestured to the van. "Besides, it says one down, not three. We have to think that he didn't know about them. We sent them fairly quick after we woke up."
"So, we're assuming that they're alive and well, and that they're getting help right now. By this time, they've at least probably gotten a ride or something to the nearest town." Kyle nodded to himself, and Stan looked over to where Clyde was hidden by trees.
"You didn't want Clyde to be part of this?"
Token shrugged. "He's too freaked out as it is."
There was a moment's pause, and Kenny glanced up wearily. "Anything left in that bottle, Cartman?"
The fat boy looked over at him, passing it over without complaint and Kenny took a short look at the little liquid left inside, tossing back the rest of it. Cartman stood up slowly, lumbering back toward the van.
"There's another bottle left in th' van...I'll go get it..."
Token stood up as well. "I'm gonna go check on Clyde. If he really is crying I don't think he'll want anyone else to see."
Stan laughed sardonically. "He was such a crybaby when we were younger. Does he think we've never seen him cry?"
"No." Token looked almost sad. "But it's different now. He's trying to be a man, whatever that means for him."
He walked off toward where Clyde was and Stan looked down, silent again. Kenny wondered what was going through his mind. He was the clear leader in this, but he hadn't shown much of his own thought about any of this. He wondered if Stan was feeling pressured, or anxious. He wondered why he was still being the leader.
Kyle patted Stan on the back, and Kenny knew that the redhead probably knew more about what Stan was feeling than anybody else. He wondered how they had stayed so close over the long years. He didn't have a friend like that, and in truth, he didn't know anybody else who did. Even lovers didn't have that trust. He wondered what he'd have to do to get that.
He wondered why he was thinking about all of this right now.
And then a horrified scream split the air.
A shattering sound came from the van along with with a loud "Fuck!", and Cartman darted around the side, one of his hands bleeding slightly.
"What the fuck was that?"
Everyone was already on their feet and Stan said only, "It came from where Clyde and Token are." And then he took off running.
Everyone followed, and Kenny felt almost panicked. That sound...he'd never heard something so agonized...he couldn't imagine anybody making that sound, much less Token. He put on a burst of speed, darting forward.
And so he was the first one to see.
Token was on the ground, shaking, whimpering as choked sounds came from his throat. His eyes were fixed on something on the ground, and when Kenny saw it, he gasped, then leaned over and threw up.
It was Clyde.
Dead.
The leaves on the ground were scattered, and the red on Token's hands said that he had turned him over to face the sky. His brown eyes were wide in terror, and his mouth was open in a twisted, silent scream. Tears marked the sides of his cheeks; he'd been crying. There was blood everywhere; the stinging scent was sharp in his nose as Kenny choked in air.
His throat was slit.
And so was his belly.
Intestines spilled out in the dirty ground, and blood formed a small lake around the body, marking Clyde's clothes, his face, everything. He looked terrified in death.
The others skidded to a stop a second behind Kenny, and Cartman took one look before darting to the side, the heaving, choking sounds he made telling Kenny he was throwing up every ounce of liquor he'd drank.
Kyle covered his mouth, making the slight sound of someone who's about to throw up, but held it inside, instead turning his face away in horror. Stan, who had never been very religious, crossed himself as he cursed lowly.
"Dear God..."
Kenny wiped his mouth, still feeling shocked, horrified, disgusted and scared, and he looked up, a small whine coming from his mouth as he pointed.
"...look."
The tree behind Clyde's body seemed to hug him in its roots, and there, painted sloppily in dripping red was the number
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