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Part 4: The Nerd

"Heather!?" Nate called out. His only reply was silence. His ears fell back, his tail tucked low. "Dammit... don't just... run off..." He fumbled in the dark, his hand moving along the wall. Finally, it bumped into a lantern fixture. He took his lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. He tried to light the thing, but it refused to catch. He swore he saw the wick inside hold the flame for a second, but it died just as quickly. "Dammit!"

It felt like the darkness in the hall was getting worse. Like it was closing in around him. He was suddenly feeling claustrophobic, something he did not normally feel. "She's fine..." he told himself, turning to go back to the search for his other friends. "She's fine." He repeated. He opened a door, finding the room completely empty. No furniture at all, just the curtains over the windows. "Billy!? Abby?" he called out, hoping they could at least respond. Silence was once more his only companion. Silence and darkness.

He tried another room. Also empty. As was the next. And the next. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Where the hell are they!?" He opened the next door, and froze. The bedroom was lit only by the set of candles on the dresser, doing little to chase away the darkness. If anything, it added to them, making long shadows that moved strangely with the flame's flicker. In the center of the room was a large four-poster bed. Laying on top of the bed, their legs dangling off the edge, was clearly the forms of Billy and Abby. He saw his friend's spotted white and black ass, his tail limp. Abby's legs and tail were similarly limp under him. He could clearly see that the dog's cock was firmly tied into the mouse's pussy even from the door. The room smelled of sex. It smelled even heavier of blood. Their blood.

He swallowed hard. "Uh... guys?" He cautiously stepped into the room. They did not move in response to him. "Are... you two okay?" Still no response. He gingerly stepped further inside, slowly moving around the bed. His eyes went wide when he moved to the side, seeing the fate of his friends. Both missing their head, the stumps of their necks jagged and torn, their blood splashed out onto the sheets and floor below. He staggered back several paces, his back bumping hard into the wall, his foot bumping something. His hands came up to cover his mouth, eyes wide as he saw the removed heads sitting in the corner. Billy's face was locked in shock, Abby's was one of horror, the eyes bloody holes. He stared for a long moment, as if he could not fully believe what was plainly in front of him. "Oh... god no!" His voice was weak even to his own ears.

He felt sick. He grabbed the candelabra and bolted out of the room. "HEATHER!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, running down the hallways. He had to find her. He shoved door after door open, hoping against hope he would find his girlfriend in one. He was met by more darkness, more empty rooms. Sometimes it was another furnished bedroom, but most were clear of anything. And no calico. "HEATHER!?" He was getting more panicked as he searched.

Room after room, nothing. He had looked in every room on the floor. He looked down the hall, in the direction of the stairs. There was no way she had gone up to the third floor without him noticing. He should find Kelli and Judy. They could help him look... if they were still alive. That thought struck him harder than he expected. What if he was the only one still alive? What if whoever or... whatever... was killing his friends was stalking him right now.

He jumped as he swore he heard movement. He turned, holding the candelabra out in front of him. The flames made the shadows dance on the walls, but there was no one there. He heard something move again, and he spun around once more. "H-Heather?" His voice was so shaky, he barely got the name out. He was not met with silence this time. He heard laughter. Dark and cold laughter. Something that sent a shiver up his spine. It was ghostly, like it was far away, but somehow near.

He just started to turn and look around, creeping in the direction of the stairs. He had no idea where the noise was coming from. "W-who's there?" Nothing but the ghostly laughter, as if the wind was mocking him. He backed down the hallway slowly. "Sh-show...y-yourss-s...self..." Something clattered to the ground behind him. He spun around, holding the thing in his hand out like it would somehow protect him, while flinching away. He fully expected to find some masked killer with a comically big knife standing there, ready to cut him in half.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes and peered forward. No one stood in the hallway in front of him. He let out the breath he did not know he was holding. Something had made the noise, though. He looked down to see what fell, and his eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "N...no..." The body of Heather lay on the floor. He recognized her clothes, the calico pattern of the fur, but that was it. The body was skeletal, not the hearty, slightly overweight cat he knew and loved. She looked like she had been mummified, her flesh barely clinging to her bones. Her eyes were empty sockets, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

He heard the laughter again. That was it. Panic fully gripped him. "FUCK!" He ran. He ran as fast as he could. Down the hall, to the stairs. He nearly fell turning the corner, dropping the candle holder. It clattered to the floor loud, the flames flickering out and plunging the place further into darkness. He did not bother trying to grab it. He ran down the stairs so fast it was more like falling than descending. He bumped into the wall at the bottom, pushing off of it.

Instinctively, he grabbed at the front door, tugging on it several times. It still would not budge. "Move, you fucking piece of wood!" He huffed, backing up to kick the wood. All he managed to do was hurt his foot. "Shit..." he looked around, trying to think. "Windows." Of course there were no windows in the front entrance. "Gotta find a window!" He started running down the halls, shoving doors open. No windows. All of them. How was that even possible? He swore one of them had a window when he and Heather were looking before.

He turned down a different hallway than before. He already knew the servant's quarters had no windows. He hoped he was heading somewhere that had an external wall. He shoved a door open and almost laughed. "Of course..." He found the library. It was more like a large study, but one wall was almost entirely bookshelves, completely filled by books. If there was a word to describe how the room was decorated, tacky would be it. Stuffed feral animals lined one side, most large predators like bears and tigers. A pair of spears were set on the wall, crossed over each other on a plaque, like some kind of crest or trophy of their own.

His only real concern was the far wall, and the massive set of windows set in it. He ran over, grabbing the bottom and trying to lift it. Of course it didn't move. He fumbled around in the dark, trying to see if there was a kind of lock or something. Still nothing. In his desperation, he just punched the glass, but his hand only thunked off the hard surface. "AH! Shit..." He shook his hand, his fingers tingling. He tried to shoulder the window, but just bounced off. He needed something harder than himself.

Looking around, he grabbed the nearest thing that he could pick up. A stuffed... wolverine? The thing was posed to look like it was snarling. He hoped it was sufficiently heavy. "Sorry, little guy." He hauled back, and threw the thing as hard as he could at the window. It struck, but instead of shattering the glass like it should have, it also bounced off. The thing flew right back at him, clocking him over the head and sending him staggering. "OW!" He stumbled back, grabbing his forehead and feeling blood on his fingers where the stuffed wolverine's teeth had cut his face.

He bumped hard against the back wall. Hard enough that the hanging decorations rattled above him. Already off balance, he was sent to the floor, groaning. "Sonofa..." He heard the sound of the decorations rattling behind him. He pushed up to turn to look. Just as he turned, he heard the sound of metal slipping. Before he could move out of the way, the spear fell from the wall, tip pointed downwards. It struck him in the back. It hit with far more force than gravity should allow, piercing right through him and embedding into the floor.

Blood suddenly burst forth from his mouth, splashing onto the ground. Pain lanced through him as much as the spear did. He screamed, the though it was not a loud one. It was a gurgling, wet, weak and pathetic cry. Panic once more gripped at the man. He tried to reach back, to try and grab the spear and pull it out, even though his rational brain knew what a bad idea that was. Not that it mattered, he was neither listening to his rational side, nor could reach the spear. His blood continued to pool slowly under him.

He tried to call out. Maybe Kelli or Judy could hear him. "H-hel...help!" His voice was weak, despite his efforts. He had not even realized how hard it was to breathe until that moment. The spear must have punched through a lung. He grit his teeth, tears running down his eyes. "Help!" he tried again, desperate for anyone to hear him. "Please... help!" his cries turned into terrified sobs. "I don't want to die here..."

"Too bad." He heard the voice, impossibly deep and echoed, like the laughter had been. It served to make him panic all the more. He started flailing, scrambling to get his hands under him. His claws scratched at the floor, feet kicking hard to try and make him rise up. He was too busy struggling to hear the sound of metal slipping again. The second spear fell, as if it was aimed, and struck the back of his head. The impossibly sharp tip pierced through his skull, ripping through his brain and exiting through his open mouth to jam into the floor.

His body jerked, then went limp. Wide, tear-filled eyes rolled back into his head. He slumped forward as his arms gave out, sinking down the shafts until he just lay on the floor. He lay as dead as the stuffed creatures around him, a dark figure of black and shadow standing over him. It smiled, drawing the boy's soul into himself like the rest. "Two left."

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