Chapter Seven
And Then There Was None
Kyle was sobbing thickly, and Cartman suddenly growled out,
"Dammit, this shit is too much, I'm fuckin' out of here!" He sounded almost scared. Kenny, in the depths of his blankly fearful mind, thought that it was about time for him to show some damn sense.
Then he heard the shuffle of retreating feet, and Kenny snapped out of his shock just in time to see Cartman whirl around, taking off toward the van. "Fuck you guys," the fat boy yelled. "I'm saving myself!"
"No, Cartman, wait!" Stan hurriedly wiped his mouth, straightening on shaky legs as he cried out anxiously. "No, don't go by yourself!" He made as if to run after him but Kyle suddenly grabbed him out of nowhere, shrieking.
"Stop it, Stan, let him go! Let him go!" He was crying fearfully, trying to hold the raven back. "Don't go!"
"Cartman! Cartman!" Stan seemed almost deaf to Kyle's pleads, struggling fiercely as he stared after the place where Cartman had disappeared into. Kenny thought he was just scared. For himself. For Cartman. For everyone. Lurking death tended to do that.
Kyle and Stan were around the same height and size, so the redhead was successfully holding the black-haired boy back, but Stan kept on fighting, struggling, and Kyle was going to lose hold on him pretty soon. Kenny jumped in, grabbing Stan by the shoulders and shaking him.
"Stop it, Stan! He's gone!" Kenny stared into Stan's wide, panicked eyes. "He made his choice! For the love of God, he's fucking armed! We aren't! Should we all die because of one fucking fatass?"
"B-but..." Stan seemed to be struggling for an excuse, a reason to go after him. "He's...he's...!"
"He's made his choice!" Kenny screamed. "He left us! Did you even hear him! He left to save himself! So snap out of it!" He punched him in the face.
Stan froze, head turned to the side from the force of the blow. He touched his cheek, head down as his fingers spread over the surely throbbing flesh. His voice come out low.
"He's a Nazi jackass with absolutely no soul whatsoever...but we've all been a group for more than fourteen years. Don't tell me you've forgotten that, Kenny." He looked up at Kenny, and the blonde was stunned to see his blue eyes devoid of all emotion. Like Butters' had been before he'd left to his death.
"We all stay together."
Kenny said nothing, and Kyle came up to Stan's side, muttering something about Token. Stan glanced back carelessly at the lifeless body beyond their sights.
"Token's dead. We have to leave. Now."
He walked back a few steps to pick up his fallen flashlight, and then straightened, leading the way back into the dark, shadowy trees toward the van. "Let's go."
Kyle glanced at Kenny, pitying, but he followed Stan without a word to the blonde, wiping away his tears. Kenny glanced back at Token, and he wished he could say something but he couldn't, and then he turned away, running to catch up with the other two.
He wanted to cry.
Thick undergrowth crashed underfoot as Cartman shoved his way past the trees, the gun gripped tightly in one hand and the flashlight held in the other. Panicked, angry eyes darted around the darkness as he rushed forward, and soon he burst into the clearing that held the van and the remnants of their fire. Glass sparkled in the moonlight as he stared, and Cartman growled, running through the dirty ground.
Fuck those other bastards. Fucking dead weight now; Stan was useless, Kyle was pathetic, and Kenny couldn't be counted on. That little bastard would only come back, no matter what. With a trump card like that, Cartman couldn't count on him to watch his back. No, he was better off alone. He would survive, he would beat this fucking psycho bitch and come out on top.
He couldn't die.
Cartman reached the other side of the clearing and dove right in, stomping and snapping the twigs underneath in loud noises. Yeah, let that bastard come. He could take care of himself; just let that fucker try to touch him, he'd shoot the brains out of his motherfucking skull. He was armed, he had a gun, he was safe.
The fat boy reached the dirt road in record time, grinning viciously as he stared down at the muddy surface, and setting off down it. He was nearly there; all he had to do was reach the highway and he was golden; he'd hail down the first car and drive away from all this goddamned shit. Fuck whatever happened to the other guys.
He'd never liked them anyways.
A snap sounded, not from under his feet but instead from behind him and Cartman felt his heart freeze in fear. He whirled around, gun held at ready as wide eyes scanned the road behind him, light shining brightly. Nothing was there.
Cartman snorted nervously, turning around and going down the muddy road again, hands slightly shaking. Fuck. Some stupid animal or something. He'd shoot it if it came too close.
Crack!
Another sharp sound, this time closer, more clearer, and Cartman shot around, hands shaking madly. There was nothing. He laughed hysterically, suddenly screaming.
"You fucking bastard! Where the fuck are you? Huh? Pussy! Fucking pussy!" He laughed again, derisively, waving the flashlight around. "You can't fucking touch me! Too fucking scared, huh? Lousy son of a bitch, why don't you fucking show yourself?"
His voice shot up to a shrieking level at the last words, and Cartman waited, fear-darkened eyes looking everywhere, and nowhere. A high, maniacal giggle tore from his throat as nothing happened.
CRACK!
The sound was right behind him and Cartman screamed, trying to run before he even saw who it was but all he felt was a burning pain in his back and he was in so much pain he didn't even notice as he fell forward. He saw a dark liquid pool around him in the fallen light and he wanted to laugh, he did laugh as he saw it. It was inconceivable, stupid...what was this?
A weight settled on his back, and Cartman grunted as a hand grabbed his hair. And slammed his face down into the ground.
He lost count after the first time, all that remained was his muffled screams and a pain that fuzzed everything he thought inside. He couldn't think, couldn't move, laying limp as the person turned him around with a low grunt of exertion. Cartman looked up hazily, dizzily, as the weight descended on him again and he saw a glint of what could have been a knife, if he could have focused on anything in that point in time.
Eyes that glowed stared back at him and suddenly Cartman felt fear. He had lost. There was a grin, and the knife descended. The culprit laughed at his screams.
He wanted him awake when he cut him.
He wanted him to feel everything.
"Come on, guys, get what you need, but hurry up, we have to leave right now." Stan's commanding tone cut through the clearing as they reached it, and he ran forward to wrench open the van's door, pulling his bag out and stuffing it a couple bottles of water and packets of food. Kyle went around the other side, muttering lowly to Kenny,
"Can you go get my first-aid kit? It was by the fire, remember?"
"Yeah, sure." Kenny turned, going around the van again to approach the dead ashes, spotting the almost forgotten red bag, now dark crimson in the nighttime. He picked it up warily, looking cautiously into the dark of the forest beyond. There was something out there...something dangerous and deadly.
A shift caught his eyes and Kenny stared at a certain patch of darker black, spotting two little pinpricks reflecting in the moonlight.
Eyes.
Watching him.
His heart stopped and Kenny shuddered, a cold feeling washing over him as the lights blinked, piercing him across the distance. They had to be eyes. He wasn't imagining things, was he? He was staring at death. And he was afraid.
"Kenny!"
The loud call startled him; he jumped and whirled around, facing the van as he heard Kyle's panicked voice. A chill ran down his spine as he realized he had just put his back to the eyes and he spun around again, scanning the blackness.
There was nothing. The lights were gone.
"KENNY!"
"What!" The blonde called back, and he couldn't help but have a certain quaver in his voice as he responded. What had that been?
"Get back here!"
This time it was Stan who called out to him and Kenny grabbed the first-aid kit again, glancing back at the empty woods before darting back to the other two.
They all grabbed what they could, and Stan took a last look at the clearing before shining his flashlight in the direction that they were going to go in.
"Alright, come on."
They walked together into the dark woods, on high alert, and Kenny couldn't help but glance around in the darkness for those lights, for those eyes to appear and start to watch him again. But there was nothing. It was silent in here, completely silent and devoid of all noise except for their noisy tramping in the brush, making their calmly desperate escape.
Minutes passed, and Kyle muttered lowly that it couldn't be much longer now, the road wasn't far from the clearing and they had to be stumbling upon it any minute not.
And they saw a light.
A flashlight, wavering in the near distance, exactly like their own beams and Stan paused. "Cartman?"
A low, pained moan sounded, and the light flickered before shining brightly again. It kept on wavering, as if the person holding it up wasn't strong enough to hold it steady. Kyle cursed harshly.
"That fucking fatass! That's what he gets..." He stomped toward the light, yelling out, "You stupid jackass, Cartman!"
"Wait, Kyle!" Stan darted forward but didn't watch where he was going, instead tripping over a fallen branch. Kenny rushed forward, pulling him up as the raven watched with panicked eyes as the redhead disappeared into the darkness.
"Kyle!"
And then a gunshot rang out.
"KYLE!" Stan screamed and threw off Kenny's helping arm, stumbling and running into the darkness, Kenny rushing right behind him. The blonde's thought's were wild. The psycho bastard didn't have a gun, he had a knife...right? How could he have gotten a gun?
Stan screamed as they came upon the fallen body, and he threw himself on his knees, grabbing frantically at Kyle's bloody jacket. The redhead was still alive, choking, coughing as fearful eyes looked down and his hands clutched at his bloody midsection. Blood came from a burned rip, a hole in his stomach.
"Kyle! Kyle, no!" Stan was nearly crying, and Kenny watched in shocked silence as Kyle grabbed at him, tears leaking from his horribly anxious eyes.
"Stan, please..." He sobbed thickly, pawing at Stan's jacket as blood burbled past his lips, flowing down his chin. His hat had fallen off; bright red hair looked dull in the moonlight as he lay there, crying in fear. "Not...don't go...him, it was him...don't..."
The raven froze, growling out in sudden anger as he seemed to take in fully what Kyle's gunshot wound seemed to say, and his head darted up to look at the shadowy trees, seeing the light flee into the woods.
"CARTMAAAAN!" His voice was a roar of rage, of murderous rage and Stan finally broke, rushing up from Kyle's body and taking off toward the light, screaming madly. "CARTMAN, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
"No! No, Stan, wait, no, it w-wasn't him!" Kyle's coughing, terrified voice was too late, Stan was already gone, and the redhead cried out in shameless fear. "Don't leave me, Stan!"
He looked toward Kenny tearfully, a hand reaching out to him, crying, begging, pleading. Kenny swallowed nervously and took off toward Stan, and he heard Kyle's hopeless screaming, dropping off to a pitiful whimper. "Staaaan!"
He ran faster, and dove into the dark, hoping nothing would happen...there was another gunshot. He heard Kyle's echoing, pained cry from behind him. Kenny rounded a tree and he saw Stan's crumpled form, lifeless eyes glazed in the rays of the moon, a hole in his chest. And he saw the figure standing a few feet in front of him, holding Cartman's gun, hand blood-streaked and dirty. A familiar smile met his eyes.
"Hiya, Kenny."
Kenny fell back on his ass, shocked, heart thumping harshly in his chest as he stared up at a ghost. "What...?"
Butters came toward him slowly, stepping delicately over Stan's lifeless body. He was dirty, streaked with mud and shirtless, countless little scratches on his chest and arms, along with a nasty gash on his left bicep. But his bright blue eyes glinted softly, gently, and it was with a little smile on his face that he approached the fallen blonde, squatting down lightly in front of him, the gun pointed casually at his chest.
"Didja miss me, Kenny?"
"Butters...you're...you're dead..." Kenny closed his eyes, whispering. A cold touch to his cheek made him open his eyes, and he saw the gun stroking his flesh.
"Aw, Kenny, I'ah'm sorry, tha' was jus' a lie..." Butters poked himself, giggling. "I'ah'm alive, I'ah swear."
"B-but..." Kenny looked past him to Stan, motionless on the ground. "...why?"
Butters actually looked sad this time. "I'ah'm sorry, Kenny. It really wasn't sup'osed t'come t'this..." He sighed, siting down fully. The gun never wavered in it's target. "I'ah was so tired...so tired of everythin'...but nuthing was sup'osed to happen t'you or Kyle an' Stan. I'ah jus' wanted Eric." He wiggled the gun. "I'ah got 'im, all right."
"Token and Clyde?" Kenny challenged, angry. Butters glared at him, and Kenny suddenly saw that he had changed...he was different and he was much more dangerous now. The real Butters was gone.
"They didn't stick up for me or nuthin' when Eric told me th' truth." He spat angrily, fingers tightening on the trigger. "They were cowards, and Token hurt me." he fingered the gash on his arm.
"But, Butters..."
"But nuthin. They're dead now, an' they'll burn in Hell." Butters sighed, sad again. "But th' rest of you were safe...I'ah was gonna go leave and let th' rest of you go. Y'guys were nice t'me. But then y'saw my light...and I'ah heard Stan. I'ah knew y'guys were gonna come after me, thinkin' I'ah was Eric..." he shrugged. "I'ah had to make sure y'didn't tell."
Butters looked disappointed, and he reached out to curl a slender finger in Kenny's hair, sighing. "You sure were nice t'me, Kenny...if Eric hadn't said nuthin, I'ah think you coulda been my first friend. I'ah would've liked that. So I'ah'm real sorry t'do this." He smiled gently. "But you'll come back, so I'ah know you'll be fine. I'ah'll think about ya, Kenny. And I'ah'll remember you as th' first person who was nice t'me."
Cold metal tucked into the curve under his chin and Kenny stared helplessly at Butters' bright blue eyes, the smaller blonde still smiling peacefully.
"Oh, an' don't worry, I'ah'll get Stan over t' Kyle. Kyle shouldn't die alone, y'know? He's nice." He stroked Kenny's cheek. "Bye, Kenny."
Kenny didn't even register the sound of the gun firing.