A blood-curdling scream tears from Rachel's mouth, and she spins into Mike's embrace, clutching her husband tightly.
All seven—living—occupants of the room take in Louis' slumped form on the couch. His eyes are wide open, but his body is stiff and lifeless, probably something to do with the large knife buried to the hilt in his chest.
"Oh, shit," Mike exclaims, his gaze narrowing at the small crowd.
Harvey scowls back at his former protégé. "What?"
"Look around, Harvey. We're in the middle of nowhere. No cell service. This is a classic whodunit."
Samantha snorts. "This could be an isolated incident. Louis pissed off plenty of people."
"He's not the only one," Donna says, glancing at Harvey.
When she shuffles two steps away from him, he takes offense. "Hey. You're safest with me."
As far as she's concerned, he's probably the next target, and she folds her arms across her chest.
"How so?"
He flashes a smug grin. "Simple. The hero always survives."
The room fills with collective sighs and eye-rolling, except for Katrina, who snaps at the group. "What is wrong with all of you? Louis is dead!"
A somber silence descends, each of them taking in the gravity of the situation. Until Mike pipes up. "Under no circumstances is anyone allowed to have sex."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
Harvey and Alex speak in unison, and Rachel shoves back from Mike. "Excuse me?"
"Number one rule to surviving a horror movie," he explains.
Samantha places her hands on her hips, disagreeing. "The first rule is never go off alone."
"Technically, depending on which act you're in, you can survive that one." Alex backs up Mike's theory, and so does Harvey.
"They're right. Too many variables. But have sex, it's lights out."
Donna smirks at her boss. "Then you'll definitely be the next to go."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"
"In your dreams."
"Most nights." He winks, smiling when she blushes.
"Oh my God!" Katrina shouts. "This isn't a game! We need to contact the police. I don't care what you all do. I'm going to find a landline."
She storms off as Mike and Harvey call out at the same time.
"Shotgun not following."
"Shotgun staying here."
"Goddamnit," Alex curses, throwing a pleading look towards Samantha.
"What?" she asks, frustrated by the collective immaturity of the people she's surrounded by.
He shrugs nervously. "Well, it's just… You're the only here, besides the murderer, who could probably actually kill a person."
"What if I am the killer?
Tension fills the room, and Mike's heart rate triples, but it jumps back down, and he chuckles. "Way too obvious. It's going to be someone who nobody suspects. Someone with a grudge, which has likely been silently building for years."
Harvey glances at Donna, then shuffles two more steps away.
"Hey!" she protests.
"You said so yourself. You've been putting me first for years. Plus, this is dramatic," he points out. "That's kind of your thing."
"Please. I'd be more subtle. Do something, like… Put vanilla in your coffee to mask the taste of antifreeze. Which I'd then slowly start slipping you from time to time." She smiles sweetly. "How was your last physical, by the way?"
He gulps. "You rescheduled it."
"Hmm. Did I?"
She's toying with him. She has to be. And he teases back. "Yeah. Remember? You said I was far too handsome to have anything wrong with me."
"I did not!"
"Pretty sure those were your exact words."
"Alright! I'm going." Samantha gives in. "Whatever torture the killer has planned, it can't be worse than your unresolved sexual tension."
"Excuse me?"
"What did you say?"
Alex ignores Harvey and Donna's protest, shuffling after Samantha. "I'm going to follow the angry person who knows how to kick ass in a fight."
With only the four of them left, Mike directs their next move. "We should make sure the house is secure." He shares a look with Harvey.
"Shotgun staying here."
"Shotgun not going upstairs… Dammit!" Harvey finishes last, huffing. "Donna, come on."
"You've got to be kidding me," she mutters, passing the fireplace and taking the poker stick to use as a weapon. Then she fashions her hair into a ponytail, using the longest strands to keep it tight.
Harvey eyes her up and down, impressed, except for one thing. "What about your shoes?"
She glances down at her favorite stilettos. "What about them?"
"If we have to run, it might be easier without—"
She shoots him a hard glare.
"Never mind." He quits while he's ahead. "Let's go."
TBC…