Chapter Six
Accusation, Revenge and Death

Night had fallen and they all huddled around the fire. Token was wrapped in a blanket, sitting by himself, shaking. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd found Clyde's body.

Stan and Kenny had returned about five minutes ago. They'd been arranging Clyde's body, closing his eyes and mouth and covering him with leaves as a sign of respect, seeing as they didn't have a shovel. Stan had suggested it. He said he didn't want to leave Clyde like that. It wasn't right.

'Nothing about this is right anymore.' Kenny thought moodily, stabbing a stick into the depths of the fire. The end caught fire and he growled, tossing it in.

Kyle had stayed with Token, for both support and protection, and Cartman sat now with the gun on his lap. He'd gone with Stan and Kenny with the gun clutched in a ready hand in case they got attacked in the dark.

No one protested the weapon being out now.

Token started crying. Low, miserable tears seeped from shocked eyes, and he buried his head in his knees, shaking. Kyle laid a hand on his shoulder; Token shoved it away.

"We leave in the morning." Stan spoke quietly, but everyone heard him. "We can't afford to stay here any longer. Tonight is too dangerous, but as soon as the sun comes up we leave. We'll find the road and hitchhike, something, but we can't stay here."

"You couldn't have decided that sooner, could you?" Token's thick voice sounded, and it was with accusing eyes that he lifted his head to glare at Stan. "Oh, big and mighty leader, making us stay in this fucking place...I should have listened to Clyde! I should have gotten out of here, we ALL should have gotten out of here when we had the chance!" He spat in Stan's direction. "It's your fault Clyde's dead! Acting like such a wise-ass bastard, don't make me laugh! You couldn't lead your way out of a fucking paper bag!"

"Hey, stop it." Kyle spoke up in Stan's defense. "You think you're the only one hurting? Clyde was our friend too y—"

Token burst out into hysterical laughter. "No! No he wasn't! None of you have had a real conversation with Clyde in two fucking years! Oh yeah, you'll say hi, you'll ask what he did over the weekend, but he wasn't any of you guys' friend! I knew him! He was my friend! Me and Craig and Tweek, we were his friends!" He stood up, and tears flowed down his raging face.

"Craig and Tweek always had each other, and that was fine, but Clyde was my best friend! Don't tell me he was your friend; you don't know shit about him!"

He whirled on Kyle, screaming. "What was his favorite movie? What's his favorite flavor of taco sauce?"

He turned to Stan. "Do you know the name of the toy he still sleeps with? How about the color of his fucking bedroom walls? Do you? NO! NO YOU DON'T! HE WAS MY FRIEND, NOT YOURS!"

Token stopped, panting, and he suddenly sat down again heavily, sobbing into his hands. "He w-was my friend...my friend..."

Stan didn't even look at him. He just stared down at the ground, rubbing his shoulder with a slow hand. Kenny supposed it still ached. They had been through so much already. The accident had only been yesterday, after all.

Yesterday. He couldn't believe it had only been 24 hours ago. It seemed like so much longer. Years. A lifetime ago.

A long time passed before anybody spoke again, and the silence of the dead air was broken only by the crackle of the flames, and the halting, crushed sound of Token's sobbing. Kyle only stared at Token with a indeterminable look on his face, then glanced over at Stan, suddenly going over to sit by him. He didn't touch him, just looked at everyone and said firmly,

"We'll take turns keeping watching over each other in the night. I'll lend you guys my watch, it has a small light. We're keeping each other safe tonight."

Kenny nodded slowly, and Cartman did as well. Stan said nothing, but Token suddenly took a deep breath, fixing everyone with a hateful gaze and stalking off toward the van.

Kyle's eyes followed him as he left. He sighed. "I'll take first watch."

Kenny lay down in the very back again, curling up slowly on the hard floor. He'd cleared the remnants of window glass out earlier so he could lay down safely.

He sighed, hugging his blanket tighter. Stan had agreed to take second watch; after Kyle's sudden burst of leadership, he'd seemed to regain himself, eyes determined again, if only for a little while. Kenny was fifth, he had last watch. Token had somehow agreed to be third, which left Cartman with the fourth watch. He could hear Kyle settling down for his appointed hours, and if he gazed up, he could see the light of the fire reflecting glumly off of the interior of the van.

He'd heard Stan and Kyle talking in low voices apart from the others before his watch. Kenny had been sweeping out glass and Cartman and Token had already gone to sleep, but it seemed that Kyle was consoling Stan. He'd thought that maybe Stan was crying. That newly-strong Stan had all been a show.

Everything was falling apart.

He wondered how Tweek and Craig would take it when they found out Clyde was dead. Murdered. He supposed Tweek would cry. Spaz out and cry, and hold on to Craig like he always did when he was upset. He didn't know how Craig would take it. Would he just stand there, stunned and disbelieving? Would he cry? Or would he do nothing at all, and keep on that same monotone face he always had?

Hell, who even knew if they were even alive to eventually know? At this point, Kenny didn't lean one way or another. They might be dead, they might be getting help. But for them, it was too late to change what had already happened.

Two people dead, maybe four, and for what? For nothing.

He couldn't close his eyes. He still saw that blood on the ground by the cliff, the wide open irises of Clyde's dead eyes. Kenny held in a shuddering breath.

Clyde's favorite movie was Nacho Libre. His favorite taco sauce flavor was cheese, as strange as it was. His toy's name was Ninja. And his bedroom walls were green and red. He'd painted them last year.

He'd talked to Clyde, really talked to him, on various occasions. He'd gone over to his house more than once, just to copy homework and hang with someone who wasn't tired of him. He'd thought he was his friend, but he'd said nothing in front of Token. There was a certain comfort in knowing that only you knew somebody, no matter how bad it was, and it'd only be cruel to take that from Token right now.

Kenny rolled onto his other side, watching the lurid reflection of flames on the remains of the shattered window. He wished he'd given Butters that same chance to be his friend.

He wanted a drink. He wanted to go home. He missed Butters and Clyde.

It would be a long night.

The night was deep in the sky and the stars shone in the millions across the black. Token stared with hollowed, empty eyes out at the dark trees, his dark face drawn in a tight, grieving scowl. In front of him, the fire was nothing but embers now, sparking weakly against the deadly black of night. He wasn't supposed to let the fire go out, but what did he care now?

Everything could go to hell, for all he cared.

Four voices in sleep came to his ears, some snoring, others just breathing, and Token listened in disdain. What did they know? They'd barely known Butters, they couldn't even properly grieve him. He hadn't really known him either, but it was too late for that. But Clyde...

Dear, sweet, dead Clyde.

He was gone, and only he knew how much it hurt. He couldn't believe they'd been so stupid enough to say that he'd been their friend. No one knew him like Token. And now no one else would.

He knew he shouldn't have let him gone off alone. He should have gone with him. Clyde had still allowed him to see him cry sometimes.

Token felt the phantom sensation of tears prickle his eyes, but nothing came. He'd cried himself out a while ago.

His family had always been wealthy, and would probably remain so even after he got married and had kids. But Clyde had never cared about that. Sure, he'd mooch off of him for food and things in the cafeteria, but Clyde had always had a loving relationship with food, even after it took all of the meager money he had. Token had never cared. He'd bribed him with food loads of times, actually.

Token knew no matter how rich he was, no amount of money would ever get him a friend like Clyde ever again. He'd been the brother he'd never had.

The fire died completely and Token was left in perfect darkness. He could barely see his own hand in front of himself. He stood, clutching a box cutter in one tight hand. He'd gone through Kyle's bags not too long ago. It was in the first aid kit, presumably for cutting away clothes from wounds or something else like that.

He smiled but it held no joy. Only anger and pain. A knife against a knife. It seemed only fair.

Token walked off into the darkness of the trees, resolute in his purpose.

A scream shattered the night and Kenny bolted up, heart thudding. He couldn't see anything. He was blind.

"What the fuck!"

Near him, the other three woke up in similar fashions, and Kyle was yelling about 'where was everybody' and Cartman was just cursing indiscriminately. Stan's loud roar raised above everybody else's, commanding them all.

"THE FIRE! THE FIRE IS OUT, EVERYBODY STOP YELLING!"

There was a panting silence, and Kyle suddenly asked slowly, "Who's watch is it? Who's here?"

"I woke up Token." Stan said, and Kenny threw in, "He hasn't woken me up."

"Token?" Kyle called. "Token, you there?"

Nothing.

"Token!" Everybody scrambled up from their respective sleeping positions in the van, and Stan cursed as he encountered some stray glass. It was a mass confusion and everyone bumped into each other as they fought to get outside. Stumbling, scrambling blindly in the dark, they encountered each other in the dark outside, and Kenny touched Stan and Cartman.

"Kyle! Kyle, where are you?" Stan yelled out suddenly, panicked.

"Here! Wait!" A bright beam of light broke the night and Kyle came around the side, the bouncing beam of a flashlight held in his hands. He tossed them all an extra, explaining rapidly, babbling almost,

"I packed them in case the lights went out in the cabin but we had the fire, so I didn't think we needed them, and..."

"Good thinking, Kyle." Stan said, cutting him off as he shone his light around. Token was nowhere to be seen. "Did anyone hear where that scream came from?"

Cartman pointed off to the right, away from the cliff and into darker forest. "I heard it from there."

"Me too." Kenny said lowly.

"Come on then." Stan took off at a brisk walk toward the trees and the rest followed quickly. Stan called out Token's name.

"Token! Token, where are you? Token!"

Kyle took it up as well, each one waiting a couple of seconds in case the other responded back. Kenny looked over to Cartman.

"Where do you think Token is?" He asked.

"Hell." The other responded shortly.

Kenny looked back, and started calling out Token's name as well. Stan suddenly cried out, "Everybody five feet apart!"

They made themselves into a horizontal line cutting into the woods, shining flashlights all around, the beams bouncing crazily off of tree trunks and making everything more confused. After a couple of minutes Stan yelled out,

"STOP! We're getting too far away from the van, stop!"

Everyone paused and Kyle called out desperately from the end of the line, "Token, where are you?"

A heavy snap, like a tree trunk breaking, echoed from the right and Kyle gasped, taking off toward it. "Token? Token, it's us! Where are you?"

"NO! Kyle, stop! Come back!" Stan's voice was high in terror as he darted after him into the dark, and Kenny yelled for them to stop but they didn't listen and he ran after them too, Cartman's heavy footfalls following as they pushed through the sharp edges of branches.

Kyle screamed.

"TOKEN!"

"Kyle!" Kenny pushed himself faster and somehow Cartman kept up, and then they both heard Stan's loud, panicked curse.

"Fuck!"

Kenny and Cartman came upon Stan, throwing up hideously by a thick, thorny bush, his flashlight shining forgotten on the ground at his feet. They could hear Kyle sobbing up ahead, and Kenny smelt the sharp, metallic scent of blood, tasted it in the back of his throat.

"Oh God..." Cartman muttered, and Kenny looked to see where he was looking at, aiming his flashlight in Kyle's direction.

Kyle was on his knees, crying, and beyond him lay Token.

Or what was left of him.

His front had been slashed to pieces, raw, red trails of flesh hanging away from his face and his body still twitched vainly as gargled sounds came from his ripped throat. Not slashed. Ripped.

Kenny ran to his side but it was too late, there was a nasty rattle and Token was finally still. He looked at his chest and he heaved emptily, holding his mouth. Token's chest looked like it had been forced open by an animal, and there was the handle of a box cutter jutting from his heart. Blood still oozed from the depths, pooling around the corpse.

On what skin remained on the bones of his chest, was the scarlet painting of the number 3.

"Kenny..." Cartman's shaking voice drew his attention, and he looked into the bright beam of the fat boy's flashlight, which beckoned his gaze upwards.

On a nearby tree were clumsily carved the thin words,

'HE CAME FOR REVENGE'