Disclaimer: I don't own The Hills Have Eyes.

Oh, my goodness! Thanks so much for your kind reviews. I really enjoy hearing what everyone thinks of this little story of mine. I hope that y'all like this chapter. This fic is really enjoyable for me to write, so I hope that y'all enjoy reading. Thanks so much for the support!

Edge
Chapter Three: Enter Night

Missy pursed her lips as the three men around her started to bicker.

Curses were thrown about like they were baseballs. Phrases that she had never heard before were strung together. The panic in the air was palpable, which was odd, considering that they were part of the army. Shouldn't they be able to keep cool, even in a situation like this?

"Hey!" she snapped, turning around. "Calm down."

The three of them turned and stared at her, heads cocked to the side. "Missy, seriously? This guy is going to kill us!" Stump exclaimed, flailing his arms about.

"How is that any different than a combat situation?" she asked logically. Missy brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, annoyed. "I'm going back to continue calling for help."

Spitter sprung toward her then, "I'll go with you."

Missy looked back at him, "I can take care of myself, Spitter."

He gave her a long glance, not questioning her statement, but still concerned for her wellbeing. She felt a small stab of guilt for snapping at him like that, so she beckoned him forward, even though the look in his eyes showed that he would have followed her regardless.

She nodded at him, allowing a small amount of regret to enter her dark eyes before walking back to the station to call for help. As soon as she got close enough, she paused, a chill crawling down her spine.

The phone had been smashed beyond recognition.

"Oh, God," Missy said under her breath. "Spitter."

"Yeah," he said, though his voice sounded far away. "What do we do, Missy?"

Missy tried to find an answer to his question, but nothing in her mind could formulate a reply. She was too shocked to think straight, an unusual mindset for her to be in. She looked to where she had left her gun, a lapse that she ordinarily wouldn't have had. "My gun's gone…"

Spitter looked at Missy, strangeness in his gaze. "You didn't take your gun with you?"

"Did you?" she questioned.

Spitter looked over to where he had left his gun - it was now conspicuously missing. "No."

Missy closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders, feeling something akin to madness settling underneath her skin. She strode back to where Napoleon and Stump were still staring at the burning mass of the truck, and said, "Do you two have your guns?"

Napoleon nodded and brandished his weapon, while Stump shook his head.

"Where'd you leave yours?" she asked Stump.

"By mine," Spitter answered. "It's gone. Napoleon's gun is the only weapon we have left."

Missy cursed under her breath and looked up to the hills. Somewhere, the rest of the squad was roaming about, looking for a madman who was clearly on the ground with them and not in the hills.

Either that, Missy thought, that infernal chill racing down her spine yet again, or there are more than one.

But how could this happen? Something like this - a massacre of sorts, she supposed, there weren't any bodies to judge what happened completely - shouldn't be able to happen on a military base like this. Not with capable, armed men. Not with people trained to kill others with a moment's notice.

"What do we do?" Napoleon's nervous, jittery voice cut through her thoughts. He was at her side now, gun in hand. At least someone was smart enough to remember to keep theirs by their person at all times. Missy mentally scolded herself for not taking her own rifle with her when she had left to investigate the smoldering wreckage of the truck.

"Nothing for us to do down here," Stump replied. "The only thing we can do is go up."

Missy glanced into the eyes of each of her fellow squad members, a sudden tension settling over her as she realized the true gravity of the situation. There was a very good chance that they wouldn't make it back down, whether it be due to falling from the sheer cliff face or from the madmen that roamed them.

Napoleon looked at Missy, his eyes concerned, "What do you think?"

Inhaling deeply, she looked at Napoleon, his innate nervousness almost making her smile. She was certain that even if there wasn't a possible troop of madmen out there, he'd still be as nervous as all get-out. "What other option do we have? We have to warn them."

Spitter nodded, as did Stump. Napoleon looked a bit queasy, but he nodded his assent in the end. Missy rolled her shoulders again, trying to loosen up her taut muscles. The fact that they had to wear their bulky, heavy uniforms in this scorching heat didn't help anything, but she knew that there were worse things out there.

"I guess we go in head first, right?" Stump questioned, a light-hearted grin on his face. Missy sighed inwardly. Count on Stump to bring out the jokes, even in a time of strife.

"Right," Spitter said. With that, he started to lead them up the side of the craggy cliff in front of them.

It was slow going, at first. Nothing happened, which to Missy was beyond eerie. Shouldn't there be a sign of life anywhere? But, no. No. There was nothing out among the rocks other than a few plants that looked to be clinging to life. She found it odd that she could not find a trace of any other animal. Not even a scorpion or rattlesnake. Nothing to signify that anything living had ever graced this place.

The ever-present shudder rolled over her spine as they ascended the cliff. Higher and higher they climbed, unaware of anything that could be of harm to them. Missy tried to feel as confident and calm as she usually did, but with a madman on the loose and no gun on her person, she felt almost naked. Sure, she could take down anything with her bare hands - they had taught her that in training - but still, it was rather unnerving to be without the constant support of a gun.

Then, almost as if in mocking, gunfire sounded.

None of them expected it. Napoleon jumped skittishly and cursed. Stump and Spitter both remained grounded, but Missy could see the tension making up their shoulders. She had to stop herself from darting glances around like a frightened animal. She forced herself to remain composed, yet she could feel the tension settling in her back and legs, just as she had observed in her squad mates.

Missy inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. She shouldn't be so shocked by the familiar sound of bullets popping, but somehow, in this heightened atmosphere, she found herself increasingly on edge.

"That's the guys," she said lamely, as if trying to bring some logical thought to the situation. "But what would they be shooting at?"

"They must have found the psycho," Stump shrugged his thin shoulders, dismissing the fact.

Missy, however, knew better. There must be more to it than that.

They continued walking. The uneasiness leftover by the earlier gunshots was still present among them, like a rather large elephant in a particularly small room. She found herself wanting to crawl out of her skin almost, as if to take any effort she could to get out of this place, out of this situation.

Minutes after the gunfire, the screams started.

They were chilling, heart-rending screams. More gunfire. A strange, sinister, high-pitched scream that sounded of victory.

Missy felt her blood grow cold.

"Guys," she began, looking around. The other three gave her identical looks of disbelief before focusing their gazes upward, to the highest portion of mountain where they thought the screams had originated. Who knew, really, with absolute certainty where they had come from? The desert distorted sounds, and unfortunately it was working right now.

"We should go check it out," Spitter said, pointing in the direction that Missy herself had thought the screams had come from. The tremor in his voice was easily masked, but she could make it out as if it were the most prominent sound in his voice. "That couldn't have been good."

Napoleon adjusted his gun on his shoulder. He seemed to be a bit more confident than the others, simply because he had something that could dispense death instantly on his person, without having to get up close and personal with whatever the thing was that was causing so much strife.

"Right," Stump said. Missy looked over and saw that he was rubbing his forearm, his fingers ghosting over the tattoo that she knew resided underneath the thick fabric.

Maybe they had a bit more in common than she thought. She felt her own fingers moving over her jacket, hovering over the place where Clyde's name was etched permanently onto her skin, recalling how she would do that very action when she was nervous.

It was her musing that distracted her.

Usually on point and on top of things, Missy was caught off guard.

A sudden movement - something slid underneath her feet and caused her to collapse to the ground. Her sharp cry was cut off by a dirty hand pressed against her mouth. A lean body covered her, pressing on her back and shoving her face in the dirt. She screamed against the bony hand, and that was when the three soldiers turned to look.

They cried her name simultaneously as the person started to drag her backwards - into a hole in the side of the cliff she must have glanced over before. Missy started to struggle. As she did so, Napoleon took longer than usual to brandish his gun, and that was all it took for the person to have what they wanted.

Writhing and screaming all the way, Missy was dragged down into darkness.

End Chapter Three.