Reposting my first guro story upon request with some grammatical corrections; original 2013 content is untouched in the interest of not George Lucasing myself.
I'll post one chapter every day for the next few weeks so that no one gets overwhelmed. You should have the entire thing by late December/early January. If you want it sooner, email me and I'll send you the PDF.
Obligatory disclaimer: Summermount is a work of fiction. The author does not condone any of the crimes committed in this story--not even the ones committed by the good guys. He does, however, condone the befriending of cats. That is a positive thing.
For Gurochan, by Andlex
Erica and Dani
Bart sat on a roof and observed his target through binoculars. Her name was Erica Winters, a fifteen-year-old sophomore in Summermount High. There was something about her that fascinated him, something that beckoned him. Presently, she sat close to her little sister on the hotel bed, watching TV. From his vantage point, Bart could only see her top half—she wore a tight white T-shirt with no bra, shoulder-length blond hair and tan skin still wet from a dip in the pool. The girls' balcony covered her lower half—the hotel was one of Summermount's tallest buildings, and Bart had to settle for the roof of a far shorter apartment a quarter-mile away.
Dani slid off the bed and walked out of Bart's line of sight. Erica waved at her, then returned her attention to the TV. Bart pocketed his binoculars, picked up his bag, and set out for the hotel.
"You seriously going out in that?" said Erica. Her sister turned looked over her bare shoulder.
"I can see your tummy."
"Yeah, well, I can see your nipples."
"People aren't gonna see me. C'mon, pull your shirt down. You're too young to dress like that."
"Point in case. Case in point. Whatever."
Dani pulled her shirt down from her ribs to her hips, still revealing a sliver of skin between it and her shorts. "Good?" she said.
Erica gave her a thumbs up. "Not gonna do the whole ponytail thing?"
Dani combed her fingers through long, red hair. She shrugged. "Nah. Takes too long."
"It takes literally five seconds, dude."
Dani held up a finger. "Case in point."
Erica watched her sister slide out the door, taking a room key with her. She waited a full minute, then turned off the TV. She unwrapped the towel covering her bottom half and tossed it aside. She sat, bottomless, on the bed. Her hands rested on her crotch as she conjured up mental videos she'd been wanting to play all day. She'd have done it sooner if not for Dani. Dani wouldn't mind, probably, but Erica had a semi-innocent image to keep. She'd like to be wearing something like Dani was, revealing, too sexy for her age. She pulled her shirt up to the bottom of her breasts, where it stayed on its own. She slid her hand slowly down her belly, closing her eyes, leaning back, mentally converting her hand to a young man's. The hand on her crotch became the man's tongue, nose, and other hand all at once. She let out a quiet moan as her finger grew damp. The imaginary man rode up her body and gave her breasts a squeeze and a lick. He fondled them, riding up more and kissing her neck, then her ears, her cheeks, and finally her lips. She had nearly her whole hand up her slit, well ahead of her imagination, but she skipped ahead. The man was fucking her and nibbling on her ears, whispering nasty things he wanted to do to her.
"I want to turn you around and pull your hair and fuck you—and I want you to scream like I'm raping you."
Scream she did, short and high-pitched. Erica clenched her legs together and bit her lip. "Fuck . . ." she whispered, "I'm so hot. . . ."
"Yes," said a man's voice, very much outside of her head. "You are."
Bart strode into the hotel lobby and didn't even look at the receptionist or other guests as he passed them. Dressed in business casual with nicely-combed hair and a black bag, walking the speed of a jog, he probably deterred anyone from speaking to him – he looked like an important man doing important things. Indeed, he was doing important things, so he didn't have to act that part. He took the elevator to the thirtieth floor. As it opened, Erica's kid sister stepped in, dressed like a whore: a tight, light blue tank top riding up her belly, dyed red hair cascading down her back, and bootie shorts barely covering her pretty little ass. She gave Bart one glance and slowly worked her arms against her shirt, pulling it back down, looking ashamed, embarrassed, and a little fearful.
"Feeling adventurous?" Bart said. The girl nodded, blushing now. Bart looked away. Dani was quite a sexy kid—sexy enough that Bart wouldn't be able to control himself if he stared at her much longer.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"Don't be. Just give it a couple more years so you don't make every man who sees you feel like a pedo."
Bart slid past her and stopped. He twisted around and reached for an imaginary object on the ground just by Dani's feet. She yelped as his hand brushed her ass. He chuckled.
"Make noises like that and I'm not sure people will care if you're not eighteen."
He turned away and walked down the hallway. His pants did a good job of hiding the erection Dani had granted him, and his sleeve did a good job of hiding the door key he'd swiped from her back pocket. He read the room number on the back of it. He knew which room Erica occupied, but it never hurt to check. He arrived at room 3012 and stopped just short of sliding the key in. He put his ear to the door. Inside, he heard Erica's pretty voice rising and falling in moans and gasps. The door canceled most of the noise, but she was being pretty loud. He grinned and slipped the key into its slot. The door clicked open and Bart slid in, quietly closing it behind him. Erica lay face-up on the bed, both hands on her crotch, her fluids pouring down her legs, moaning loudly with her eyes closed.
Bart undressed quietly and quickly. Still, Erica didn't notice him. She just kept at it. Through her moans, she whispered:
"Fuck. . . I'm so hot. . . ."
Bart decided it was time to jump in. "Yes," he said. "You are."
Erica's eyes snapped open and she launched off her bed faster than Bart could get another word out. She yanked her shirt down, but it was too wet to hide anything. She looked furious initially, posed like a martial artist, but then she looked at Bart longer. Her expression softened a little.
Bart pounced on her before she could get another word out. He pushed her onto the bed and turned her face down in one motion. He plunged his erection into her lubricated cunt and began pumping, savoring the cunt of the girl he'd been stalking for the past week. She fought, of course, but Bart grabbed her hair and shoved her face down into the bed. This made her fight harder, flailing her limbs everywhere.
"Ease up," he told her. "Let's make this as painless for you as possible."
He didn't mean it. Apparently she could tell. She elbowed him, kicked him, writhing under him, trying to escape. She screamed into the mattress and occasionally into the air when she managed to get her mouth free.
"I'm serious," said Bart. "I'll hurt you."
He dragged his bag over to the bed with his foot. Erica wouldn't stop fighting, as he'd expected. So he eased off her for just a moment, allowing her to get on her hands and knees, then flipped her over and pinned her sweaty limbs down onto the bed. Her eyes were wide, streaming tears. She opened her mouth to scream. He backhanded her temple. She yelped. Bart heard a crack. Erica went quiet for a moment. He hit her again the other way. She only stared now, drooling and crying. Bart smiled and unzipped his bag. He took out a large hunting knife, then returned to the girl on the bed. He flipped her over, grabbed her hair, and dragged her in front of a full-length mirror between the bed and the balcony.
"Why. . ." she moaned. Bart slammed the back of his fist against her ear and caught her before she fell from the force. He prodded her clavicles with the tip of the knife as she stared blankly at it, mouth hanging open. He sliced downward, cutting her shirt down the middle and exposing her breasts. He groped them with his free hand, giving each a hard squeeze. She jerked in his grip and moaned in pain. She could barely stand on her own, but she was light. Bart had no trouble holding her up. His dick in her cunt acted as a third arm, helping keep her upright.
"Help me. . . ."
Bart stabbed the knife deep into her lower belly. Her eyes opened wide and she screamed again, weaker and quieter this time, but it still ranked among the screams Bart would remember forever. With renewed energy, she lashed out at everything she could reach. Her hand closed around his wrist and pulled with what he assumed was all her strength. He carved upward. The knife sloshed through her guts as she screamed and beat on his arm. Through all this, he continued fucking her. He felt blood drip onto his dick, running from her belly down to her crotch. Her struggles weakened as he carved higher, even though the pain should only be getting worse. He felt the knife bump against her sternum, then jabbed it into her side for holding and yanked the sides of her belly open. Without a sound, she watched in the mirror as her guts spilled from her body in two messy glops. They unraveled and slapped against the hotel carpet at her feet. Her expression registered absolute horror. Bart felt himself nearing orgasm. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"I loved you while you lasted."
He smashed his elbow into the side of her head, brought his fist down on her skull. Something in her neck cracked and he decided it was time to finish up. He retrieved the knife from the makeshift sheath in Erica's side, pulled her hair back, and sliced her throat deeply from ear to ear. A line of blood followed his blade, pumping out with each rapid beat of her dying heart. Erica didn't make a sound. She watched with dumbstruck dying eyes as Bart made the final, irreversible cut. Blood sprayed out in short bursts, covering Erica's pretty face in the mirror. Bart kept cutting with the knife, making half-circles around her neck, cutting it more and more. He got through the muscles and arteries and reached her spine. By then, her blood covered everything. It spurted from both ends of her neck and decorated the room around her.
Her movements were slow now, barely there, but her spine was still connected, so she could still move. Bart ended that with a quick twist, snapping Erica's already-damaged neck and completely decapitating her. He held her head up by the hair and let her body slump forward. Her blood-soaked breasts squished against the bloody mirror and slid down its length with a wet slissh sound. Her twitching pelvis remained hooked on Bart's cock. He pushed it off and let her gutted body slump to the floor. He turned her head around to face him. She blinked once. Bart jabbed the knife deep into the top of her skull. She never moved again.
Still hard and just about bursting, Bart pulled the knife out from Erica's head. He shoved his cock into her neck stump and watched its head appear in the back of her throat. "So pretty," he muttered. "Shame I can only do this once."
Erica was dead forever and she could never be brought back. With that thought, Bart looked into her dead green eyes, clenched his teeth, and came hard against the roof of her mouth.
With a long sigh, he tossed Erica's head down next to her body. He let the last few spurts of his cum land on her disemboweled corpse, then stood back and observed his handiwork. The room was big, but even so, Erica's blood covered a good quarter of it. She'd been writhing as he sliced her belly open. She was still leaking blood everywhere.
Dani was in for a nasty surprise. Part of Bart wanted to stick around to see how she reacted, maybe even give her a quick rape, but he'd risk getting caught. The redhead already knew his face. With another long sigh, Bart turned for the door.
There was a knock. "Erica?" said Dani's voice. "I'm back. I lost my room key. Can you let me in?"
Dani gave the door another knock. Erica said nothing.
"Erica, stop touching yourself and let me in."
"Erica isn't touching herself," said a man's voice from inside the room.
Two instincts clashed in Dani's head. Part of her knew she should turn around and run and never look back. The other part, the one she perceived as nobler, told her to just see what had happened and help her sister if she needed help. There was a strange man in her room, and Erica could be hurt. At the very least, she was probably bound naked on the bed with a ball gag in her mouth. The thought appealed to Dani more than she’d have liked, given this was her sister she was thinking about.
Or maybe it was room service in there? Dani wouldn't know unless she checked, but the long silence between her initial knock and the man's reply unnerved her. She heard a zipper inside.
"Let me in," said Dani. Her voice was level, much more controlled than she felt.
"Give me a moment," said the man. Dani heard more zipping, some rustling, and a couple metallic clinks.
"Erica!" Dani pounded both fists against the door. "Can you hear me?"
Silence. Dani heard footsteps—they sounded squishy, like the man was walking through water.
"Turn around and run away," said the man's voice. "You'll regret it if you don't."
She recognized the voice. This was the man from the elevator. What had been in the black bag? Why was he in her room? Where was Erica?
"Where's my sister?"
"Open this door," said Dani. "Open it now!"
She kicked it hard. Her foot hurt. The door apparently didn't. Erica needed her help—she had to get in somehow. She stepped back and readied another kick. She lashed out. Her foot struck the door and it swung open easily. Dani went sprawling on the carpet inside the room. Immediately, she stood up and looked around. Something smelled different. It was a smell she didn't recognize, but she didn't like it. Where was the man? Why was the carpet stained red?
"Erica!" Dani cried. She sprinted three steps, turned, and stopped. There was her sister on the floor in front of the mirror. Her body lay face down, ass up in the air, unmoving. Her decapitated head lay in a pile of her spilled intestines. Dani knelt. Her knees hit the floor with a splash. "No, no, no . . ." she whispered to herself. She picked up Erica's head with one hand and lifted her body upright with the other. She put her sister's head back on her shoulders.
"Stay, please, stay!" she said. She tried to hold her sister's head on, moving her hands to cover the spots where blood leaked out. Nothing worked. Dani slowly sat back on her ankles. She gently set her sister's body back down, face-up. Her head rolled to the side, but there was nothing Dani could do about that. She collected an armful of Erica's guts in her arms and pushed them back into her sister's body. The next armful didn't even fit.
"Her last words were, 'Help me.'"
Dani looked over her shoulder. There was the man, naked now, covered in Erica's blood. He held a pump shotgun in his arms. Dani had a sudden urge to take it from him and commit her first real crime. She stood up. He pointed the gun at her head.
"You look mad."
"You killed my sister."
"She was amazing. You should've been there."
Dani screamed, lunged forward, and ducked at once. Her ears rang as the gun fired. It missed her. She crashed into the man's hips. Her shoulder connected with his balls. She heard him cry out in pain, then she gave him a push and stood upright, making a grab for the shotgun. She heard it fire. Her vision blinked out, and then she was gone forever.
Bart knew the redhead was going for his gun, but he had no idea how she'd get there. The below-the-belt tackle shouldn't have surprised him, considering her height compared to his, but it hurt all the same. He yelled, clenched his teeth, and stumbled back as she pushed against him. He raised the shotgun. She stood up. Her eyes darted up to the gun, staring straight down the barrel. She made a grab for it. Bart pulled the trigger.
Erica had been Bart's first kill, but he'd seen decapitation and gutting before on the Internet. He'd never seen what happened to Dani. There was a puff of red and pink and her body fell forward, carried by the momentum of her last grab. At first, it looked like a relatively clean death, but then her head—or what was left of it—lolled to the side. Only the left half of it remained attached to her neck. The right side was spattered on the far wall like a large housefly. The force of her head hitting the wall had left a small impact crater lined with blood and brains, both slowly trickling down and dropping into a small, morbid pile. On the floor, blood pooled around Dani's corpse. Half her brain followed, slowly, oozing out somewhat like Erica's guts had.
"Holy fuck, you kids make hot corpses," said Bart to no one in particular. He hadn't planned on killing Dani, but now that he had, he didn't regret it. Her face was—or had been, at least—softer than her sister's, cuter. Her body wasn't as curvy—her breasts were about half Erica's size. She was thin and pale, contrasted with Erica's athletic tan form. Bart knelt and tore off the dead girl's shirt. Her breasts weren't big enough to squeeze like Erica's, but given another year, they'd have been irresistible. He'd halted their development at 14 years, and so he enjoyed them. He sucked her pink nipples and cut one breast in half, admiring the yellow-red insides. He pulled her up into a sitting position and poked her brain with his hardened cock a couple times before thrusting in. It was a different feeling than fucking a pussy or even a neck hole—it felt almost like fucking thick noodles. Her remaining eye popped out on one of his thrusts. It was green, like her sister's. Bart licked it, decided he wouldn't like the texture, and tossed it out balcony. It would fall 30 stories and possibly smack a passer-by in the face. It gave him and idea.
With a moan, he came inside the dead girl's brain. His cum pumped out fast. It soaked in and some of it even leaked out the bottom of her eye socket.
"You've been a real pleasure," he said. "I'll have to do more like you after this."
He absently stabbed her belly and chest a few times, then stood and slung her corpse over his shoulder. He approached the balcony and looked down. Thirty stories down, there were very few cars, but a solid paved road just waiting for decoration. He noted that this room also overlooked the Pacific, but dropping Dani's sexy body into the ocean would be no fun. Instead, he dumped her straight over the edge of the balcony and watched a trail of blood follow her down. She fell longer than he expected, and then her body burst open on the pavement like the half of her head on the wall, but on a larger scale. Bart smiled, reentered the room, and scraped the last of Dani's head off the wall. He tossed that off the balcony, then went for Erica's remains. She was a bit more challenging, as her guts kept getting tangled at his ankles. Eventually, he just dragged her by her ankle with her head in his free hand. He tossed her head down first this time and watched it. It also made a bloody, brainy mess when it smacked into the pavement, but not nearly as big as Dani's body had. Fully intending to top that, he heaved Erica's corpse off the balcony. It got a little more distance than Dani's had and landed with a faintly audible splat in the middle of the street. Her blood and guts gleefully shot out as her body broke. The mess was about the same size as Dani's, maybe a little smaller. After all, Bart had let half Erica's blood spill in the room.
He took a shower, during which he listened for police sirens or screams or anything of the sort. Surprisingly enough, it took the screams a good five minutes to start 30 stories below, and five more minutes before the sirens came. He washed the evidence of his crimes down the drain, then replaced his clothes, collected his bag, and left the room.
The Summermount News E-edition
Sisters Dani and Erica Winters were found dead on the street beside the Ocean Heights Hotel. Evidence points to murder.
"I just don't know what to think," said Monica Winters, mother of the sisters. "My little girls are gone forever."
Father Brandon Winters could not be reached for comment.
"I saw them happy an hour before the cops found them," said Renee April, a close friend of both girls. "Just an hour. Just one hour."
"Why can't you assholes let me mourn in peace for one damn day?" said Adrian Winters, brother of Dani and Erica.
Police are investigating the suspected murders. Information will be posted as it is received.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Adrian Winters (3:17 p.m.)
You seriously posted that? Your a bitch fay.
Fay Ryan (3:33 p.m.)
I'm just doing my job.
Veronica Hunter (5:31 p.m.)
omg!!!!! serial killer???
Fay Ryan (6:00 p.m.)
Two victims doesn't make a serial killer. Three sets a pattern. If another similar murder occurs soon, then yes, that will be a serial killer.
Kitty Grant (6:03 p.m.)
Scary!! waht should we do?
Fay Ryan (6:05 p.m.)
Always travel in groups of two or more—preferably three if the killer managed to kill both Dani and Erica. Carry protection at all times and always let a parent know where you are and how long you'll be gone.
Very excited to be reading this again.an excellent story.
Thank you very much, I missed this story.
I like gore as much as the next girl, but for some reason the part I found unbearably hot about this was the imagery of Erica barely being able to stand on her own, but being propped up by his cock inside of her. Thank you for sharing this, I'm looking forward to the rest!
Yay, Sommerount is finally back!
Thanks for reading, guys. I knew Summermount was well-liked, but it's still nice to hear good things about it.
One of the post-Queenslayer ideas I've been kicking around is a spiritual successor to this story. More rape and guro than Queenslayer, but also the same attention to story and character. Also more balance of m/f and f/f, because my lesbian fetish clearly shows throughout the rest of Summermount.
Sixteen-year-old Kitty Grant sat with her knees comfortably tucked into her sweatshirt, sitting behind the safety of her computer screen.
"Teens murdered," she muttered to herself as she read the local news. It probably wasn't anybody she knew, but it was interesting, so she kept reading. "Dani and Erica Winters . . . no way."
Kitty's heart clenched for a moment. She hadn't talked to either of them for years, but she saw them nearly every day. She'd even seen them yesterday, walking into the hotel they'd died at. It felt so strange. The Winters kids were so young—Dani was fourteen and Erica was fifteen. People died in Summermount all the time, but it was rarely by murder, and it had never happened to people Kitty knew. Her heart clenched up again when she realized she'd miss them. Despite never talking to these girls, she'd grown attached to them.
"Rest in peace," said Kitty to the screen, bowing her head. "I'll miss you both."
How had they died? The article didn't give any details. It would hurt that much more to know how the Winters kids died, but she had to know. Wasn't it the newspaper's job to inform? If they wouldn't, Kitty would have to find out herself.
She could call the news, but that would mean talking to people she didn't want to talk to. Instead, she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and headed out of her room.
"Going out?" her mom asked.
Kitty mumbled a yes.
"Take something to protect yourself. The Winters girls died yesterday to a serial killer. And stay away from alleyways."
Kitty mumbled something about two victims not constituting a serial killer, but her mom didn't hear. She patted the knife in her pocket, meeting her mom's eyes.
"Good. Be safe. I love you."
Kitty smiled and left her home. She jogged to the Ocean Heights hotel, where she wasn't the only snooper. Fifteen or twenty people were already there. They surrounded yellow and black police tape. Kitty slipped past a couple people and poked her head over the tape. There were chalk markings, just like on TV, but something was different about these: the chalk didn't outline any recognizable human forms. There were two police officers there, a young man and a middle-aged man. She filtered out the surrounding noise and focused on what the cops said.
". . . completely absurd," the young man was saying. "Did they get DNA tests on the sperm?"
"Yeah, no results, obviously. We need suspects first.”
"Well, I guess we know the killer wanted us to see the bodies."
"For lack of a better term."
"Remains it is. If they were dead before he tossed them off, all that accomplished was getting everyone's attention."
Kitty backed away, a hand covering her mouth. She tried not to visualize what she'd just heard. She couldn't help it. She staggered off somewhere and vomited in a dumpster full of dead rats. The dead rats almost made her puke again, so she slammed the dumpster shut and curled up against the cement wall on the other side of the alley. She tucked her knees into her sweatshirt and hugged them to her chest. Keeping a tight check on her stomach, she recalled what she'd seen and heard. Besides the chalk outlines not resembling a human, they were fragmented—Erica and Dani had been dismembered either before or after falling from the hotel. For the outlines to be as deformed as they were, she imagined they'd fallen from at least the twentieth story. No wonder the news hadn't gone into detail. It was a disgusting, horrifying way to die and Kitty wouldn't have wished it on Hitler himself.
She'd learned what she wanted. She stood and took in a deep breath that still tasted like puke. Realizing she was in a dark alley, she drew her pocket knife and flicked the blade out. She stood silent and listened for any sign of a hostile. She had no intention of becoming the victim that turned the murderer into a serial killer, but she was admittedly flawless bait: teen girl, alone, nearly defenseless.
She almost stepped on something small and beige. She knelt in front of it. It had red lines all over it and looked like a squished sphere. She had a feeling she knew what it was. She poked it with her shoe. It rolled over to reveal a dirt-covered green pupil. Surely it was a fake, planted to scare people, but it unnerved her all the same. She strafed around it and got three steps before she heard a quiet mew behind her.
"Kitty?" she said, turning around. She could almost feel her eyes brightening. Petting a cute kitten would help her feel better, so she walked toward the noise. Indeed, it was a kitten, tiny and brown and absolutely adorable. It curled on a trash can's lid, sleeping. Kitty approached it on her toes. She reached out and gently petted it while it slept. She felt her fear and pain subside. Petting a kitten would never make her forget what had happened to Dani and Erica, but it definitely made her feel better. The soft fur under her hand calmed her. Now all she needed was a book and a pretty piano playing in the background and she'd be in her own personal heaven.
Another mew came from below, this one presumably the first she'd heard. It was another kitten, colored like the other one, yet bearing a different pattern of brown and white. It brushed against Kitty's bare ankle and purred. Kitty instantly loved it. She knelt and petted it, scratching its chin with her free hand.
Then there was another kitten approaching from behind, and then another, and another. Kitty stared in delighted shock for a moment, and then she started laughing. She sat back against the wall beside the trash can and let the kittens come to her, petting them all as they came, one after the other. There must have been at least three litters swarming her, mewing, pressing up against her, begging for attention that Kitty gladly gave them. Despite everything she'd seen and heard today, she imagined she couldn't feel much happier than she did now.
She looked up and sighed a happy sigh. And suddenly, she saw it. There was something in front of her, looming over her. Something huge, inhuman—something she couldn't quite make out in the darkness of the alley. The kittens kept playing on Kitty like a human playground. Her knife was on the other side of the trash can, but whatever that thing in front of her was, she couldn't let it hurt the kittens. She started to stand. The thing lunged.
Kitty didn't even have time to scream. The kittens darted off her in an instant and the thing crashed into her. She felt hot, wet breath on her throat. Her hands instinctively shot up to the thing. It was soft to the touch, and now Kitty could see it. She heard a noise like a hiss rolled in with a sonar blip. The thing clamped its teeth around her throat, piercing it, and jerked to the side. Kitty gurgled as she tried to scream. The pain was worse than any she'd ever felt. Her throat was gone, but the thing didn't stop there. As she watched in silent horror, it bit into her shoulder. The bone gave with a loud crunch. Blood spurted out as Kitty's arm lifted away from her body, taking her sleeve with it. Her scream came out as a pathetic gurgle, accompanied by a couple spurts of blood. She was vaguely aware that she was fighting, and vaguely aware that the kittens were watching from behind and beside the thing. Even as her fist connected with the thing's mouth, only to be ripped from her wrist, she realized this was both the best and the worst way she could possibly die: eaten alive by a monster, yet surrounded by kittens. Claws tore her sweatshirt to bits, slicing the skin on her chest and stomach as well. The thing tore off half her breast, then opened up her belly. Kitty's vision was fading now. She saw the thing feasting on her guts in the distance, and then she saw nothing. She felt chunks of her leg ripped off for just a moment, and then she felt nothing.
A police officer found Kitty's corpse just minutes after her death. She was missing an arm and a hand, one breast, and all her insides. Several chunks were gone from her
legs. To the officer's surprise, a couple brown and white kittens climbed on the girl's corpse. He knelt beside it. He knew the girl was dead—her throat was gone—but he checked anyway. Her eyes and mouth were open, staring at some unseen killer. The officer put a hand on her cheek and sighed. He'd seen her literally ten minutes ago, and now she was dead right in front of him. She'd been pretty, too, with a mix of Asian and Caucasian features. She was quite possibly the murderer's third victim, following the Winters girls yesterday.
It didn't look quite like a human had done this, though. The parts of her that were missing were just gone without a trace, like something had eaten them on the spot without bothering to leave a trail of blood. The officer shook his head and drew his radio. "I found a girl dead in an alley. We've officially got ourselves a serial killer."
The Summermount News E-edition
Third teen killed, serial killer responsible?
High school junior Kitty Grant was found dead yesterday, July 6, surrounded by kittens. Evidence does not point to the killer of the Winters girls. However, the police are still investigating. Evidence suggests she died protecting the kittens from something, though the police disagree.
High caution is advised. Do not leave your houses unless absolutely necessary, and never go anywhere alone.
"I'd seen her alive just ten minutes before I found her body," said James Courtland, the officer who found her body. "It's incredible how quickly humans can die. I only wish I'd have been interesting enough to keep her from leaving."
The victim's parents refused to comment.
Do we have a serial killer on the loose, or are the deaths of Grant and the Winters girls unrelated? More news will be posted as it comes in.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Max Morten (5:56 p.m.)
A girl named Kitty dies protecting kitties. well, there are worse ways to die=
Mary Fredrick (6:01 p.m.)
edging on 'too soon' max.
Kayden North (6:10 p.m.)
This is really sad, i really liked Kitty
Jessie North (6:12 p.m.)
ya u nvr let me here teh end of it it is rly sad tho she was nice
Adrian Winters (6:19 p.m.)
why her? first my sisters, then my tennis partner?
Fay Ryan (6:30 p.m.)
That really sucks, Adrian. I'm sorry.
Alpha Enhancement (6:31 p.m.)
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Fay Ryan (6:33 p.m.)
I'm having our network admin implement Recaptcha.
Definitely enjoyed reading this when it first came out. And the spiritual sequel sounds like a good idea.
I look forward to seeing it. :D
Kayla and Vivi
Kayla Connelly laid in her bed with her knees propping up her sketchbook, black hair draped over her pale bare chest. On her current page, she sketched in Kitty Grant's face as she recalled it from the funeral earlier today. She'd left early. Too many people were crying, and she wasn't about to be seen crying in public herself.
She flipped the page and drew Kitty's naked dead body. She drew the girl's guts coming out, her arm on the ground beside her, her throat torn out, and her thighs destroyed to the bone. Why did she feel like crying now, of all times? She'd been all right while she snuck into the morgue and drew Kitty's corpse the first time. Maybe it had something to do with the two vibrators quivering in her slit, and the guilt that had come with doing the same thing to Dani and Erica's corpses—though there hadn't been much left of the Winters girls, and she hadn’t cried when she masturbated to their remains. Dani's remains in particular had given her one of the best orgasms in her 15 years: her head only half there, red hair coating her blood-soaked skin, a bit of her brain leaking from her empty eye socket, and her tight little body smashed beyond recognition. Standing over the bloody mess in the morgue, it was hard to believe she'd made out with this girl, naked, five years ago in fourth grade before either of them knew the social taboo behind what they did.
Kayla clenched her teeth and bit her blanket to keep from screaming in pleasure. She shoved a hand down between her legs and pressed hard on her clit. She closed her eyes and waited for her orgasm to subside before returning to her drawing, wiping her wet hand on the blanket. The memory of Dani fresh in her mind, Kayla drew a man kneeling beside Kitty's corpse. She got him roughed in, then realized Kitty's wounds didn't really look like a man—or a human, for that matter—had inflicted them. It looked more like something a large wolf or a bear would do, but there were no bears or wolves within a hundred miles of Summermount. It had to have been a person, and the level of brutality suggested it was the same man who had murdered the Winters girls.
Kayla drew the man nice and handsome, naked, jerking himself off over Kitty's mutilated corpse. As far as she knew, the killer hadn't ejaculated on Kitty, but that didn't mean he wasn't masturbating to it. Kayla certainly would have, had she killed Kitty. She wouldn't have, though. As much as she fantasized about either killing or raping her classmates, she was 90% sure she could never actually go through with it.
Her laptop/tablet hybrid played a bleep beside her. She gave the screen a poke and waited for it to light up.
Vivi: u c kitty in teh morg?
Vivian Maine's picture displayed above the chatbox. Her hair, naturally blond and dyed black, was streaked with blue today, presumably to match her eyes and personality. Kayla replied:
Kayla: Want details?
Kayla: Throat torn out, belly cut open and guts eaten, arm ripped off, thighs ea
Kayla: Still cute as fuck.
Vivi: omfg so hot!!! i wish tat was me!!!!!
Kayla: Want picture?
Vivi: fuk yes
Kayla dragged the pictures she'd taken at the morgue into the chatbox. She waited a moment for them to upload and for Vivi to download them.
Kayla laughed. Vivi was the only person she knew who role-played in Skype.
Vivi: i been wonderin, do all dead peoples faces look like that?
Kayla: P. much. Can't do expressions b/c muscles relax postmortem.
Vivi: can u draw me like tat?
Kayla started to reply affirmatively, then hesitated. She'd drawn Vivi dead and dying probably a hundred times now in a hundred different ways. She could draw her best friend's face and body from memory now from nearly any angle. She wasn't getting tired of it—she always loved drawing a Vivi death scene, giving it to her, then either masturbating together or having sex—but there was a serial killer in Summermount now.
Kayla: I have a better idea.
Kayla: Let's find the serial killer.
Vivi: how do we find him?
Kayla: You really okay with dying?
Vivi: wait r u gonna die too?
Kayla hadn't actually considered that. She had essentially just talked her best friend into assisted suicide. Should she take the leap, too? She had a lot of life to look forward to, and a fairly promising future—but so did Vivi, and it had taken her all of five words to throw it all away.
Kayla: We'll see. Meet me at the hotel. Wear something sexy.
Vivi: kk c u there
Kayla let out a long breath and rolled out of her bed. It was 9:40 p.m., twenty minutes to the curfew no one paid any attention to—until the Winters kids died, anyway. Strangely enough, all three murders had happened in the middle of the day. She pulled on gray sweat pants, a black sports bra, and a white hoodie. She stuffed her camera, a mechanical pencil, and a switchblade in her pocket.
She considered formatting her laptop's SSD, but decided against it and just shut it down. If she died tonight, she wouldn't be there to care if anyone saw her porn. She tossed it onto her pillow, tucked her sketchbook under her arm, and left her room.
"Going out?" her dad asked from the kitchen.
"Yeah," she said.
"With the Summermount Slasher out there?"
"Yeah," Kayla said. Is that what they called him now? It was the laziest serial killer name ever.
"Good riddance," said her dad. He tossed some noodles into a pan. "Hope he turns you into bloody pasta."
"Fuck you too, Dad."
"Leftovers in the fridge if you come back alive."
She left her house and headed for the Ocean Heights hotel two miles away. By the time she got there, it was already past curfew. Vivi was there waiting, wearing an unzipped gray hoodie with only a red bikini underneath. Her breasts weren't very big, but she was already outgrowing her top.
"Yo, Kayla," she said. "I'm so fucking horny right now. How would you kill me in this outfit?"
"I'd chop you in half through your belly and make you eat your own cunt till you died. Wait, are you already wet?"
"I told you I was horny." Vivi grinned and gave her own breasts a squeeze. "So how are we gonna find this guy?"
"Honey trap. Look vulnerable and sexy and walk around in dark alleyways."
"No problem. I've done that since I was twelve."
"C'mon then, you sexy little floozy."
They walked and talked, weaving in and out of alleyways. Vivi talked about how she wanted to die, Kayla talked back about how she probably wouldn't get a choice. Vivi asked Kayla how she wanted to go. Kayla said she didn't know. Then they talked about
Kitty, Dani, and Erica and how hard they came a) looking at the corpses and imagining the moment of death, in Kayla's case and b) looking at the corpses and imagining being the corpses, in Vivi's case.
"Kayla," said Vivi, turning. "If the serial killer doesn't show up, will you kill me?"
"I'd be lonely without you."
"Not if you died too."
Kayla nodded. "Not if I die too," she agreed. The thought excited her, but killing herself after a serial killer arrived in town would be a wasted opportunity. Besides, she wanted to see Vivi die much more than she wanted to die herself.
"Could you shoot us both in the head as we kissed?"
"Do you want to die at all?" Vivi finally asked.
"I don't want to kill myself, if that's what you're asking."
"Halfway." Vivi stopped and stood face-to-face with Kayla. "You don't cum to imagining yourself in the victim's place, do you? You cum imagining yourself as the killer."
Vivi kissed Kayla's lips. Kayla smiled. "You're half right."
"Then kill me now. However you want."
Kayla pushed Vivi against a wall. They were in an alley now, the one Kitty had died in. "Any way I want?"
"Any way you want," Vivi confirmed.
"I want nothing more than to murder you right now."
Vivi pressed her body against Kayla's. "Do it. Kill me. Chop up my body. Mount my head. Do everything you've ever wanted."
Kayla kissed Vivi and flicked her switchblade open with an unsteady hand. She almost dropped it. She was 90% sure she couldn’t kill her best friend, even now, after she’d resolved herself to do it—and presumably blame it on the Slasher. She closed her eyes.
"I love you, Vivi."
Vivi nodded, eyes wide, mouth open in a smile. Kayla kissed her friend one last time. Holding the kiss, she set the tip of the blade just above Vivi's ear. She pulled the blade back.
Bart noticed the black-haired girls long before they entered the alley. Their voices were loud, and so he hid around a corner and watched them. One was asking the other to kill her. The other seemed open to the idea. Bart watched until one raised her blade. Then he moved fast. He leapt out of his corner and grabbed the girl's wrist just before the knife dug into her friend's head. He noticed there was absolutely no resistance in her arm, like she’d never intended to go through with the stabbing.
"The fuck?" said the suicidal girl. She looked around her friend's shoulder.
"Hello," said Bart. "Don't worry, I'm not a cop. But actually, do worry. I'm much worse."
The suicidal girl smiled. "I'd hope so. If you interrupted that and you weren't a fucking serial killer, I'd have Kayla kill you, then me."
"Kayla's your name," said Bart to the girl who hadn't spoken so far. He squeezed her unresisting wrist tighter and tighter until she cringed and dropped her knife. Bart caught it and pocketed it. Then he knelt, picked up her sketchbook, and handed it to her. "Follow me," he said. "If you're interested in dying, I can help you out. But we are definitely not staying in this alley."
Bart shooed a kitten away with his foot. The girls looked down at it like they hadn't noticed it before.
"What?" said Bart. "It's been there with a couple friends since you walked in."
Kayla petted one of the kittens with her foot. The suicidal girl—Vivi—ignored all three of them.
"Why can't I die here?" Vivi asked. "Kitty died here. Why can't I?"
"Reasons," said Bart. "Keep moving or I'll leave you behind."
He wandered the city till he found what he was looking for: a stereotypical abandoned warehouse. He entered, ushered the girls in, then closed and locked the door shut behind him. He flicked on all the lights and observed the girls as they did the same to him. Vivi had her hair dyed black and blue, so deeply he couldn't see the roots. Kayla's hair looked naturally black enough that she might be part Mexican or something, though her face was clearly Caucasian. He thought he saw a bit of red at the base of her scalp, but it wasn’t much. Regardless, she looked pretty. Her eyes were light amber, nearly yellow. He found them beautiful. He supposed it would be fairly creepy to a normal person. Vivi's eyes, on the other hand, were blue, matching the streaks in her hair. Bart could read a full gamut of emotions in Vivi's face, ranging from anger to pleasure to anticipation. Kayla, on the other hand, looked calm and just a little concerned.
"Kayla, strip," he said. He didn't wait to see her obey. He lunged and tackled Vivi, knocking the back of her head against the cement floor. She cried out, but Bart silenced her with a quick punch to the mouth. He ripped her bikini bottom down and thrust his cock into her without hesitation. She looked up at him with a small, bloody smile. He didn't like that, but he didn't want to ruin her face before he was done with her. Still thrusting, he sank a fist into her bare belly. She yelped and closed her eyes. He punched her again in the same spot. She groaned. He hit her again, harder. Then again, and again. Each time he hit her, he felt her wet cunt tighten around him. He pulled her top off and squeezed her small breasts. His nails dug into the sides, drawing blood. Vivi's face was contorted in pain now, trying to form a smile, failing.
"Cry for me, whore," said Bart. He slapped her face twice, then gave both her breasts a heavy punch. He thought he felt a rib crack. He slammed one more punch into her bruised belly before grabbing her thighs and focusing on fucking her. She was crying silently now. Bart smiled. He looked to the side and found Kayla, naked, standing beside him, both hands working her cunt. He reached around her thigh and pulled her close to him. He licked her cunt, then began sucking on it, drinking her juices. She moaned quietly. Her hands moved to her breasts, a bit bigger than Vivi's, but not by much. She was still a C-cup at best. Her figure was good for her age—probably mid-teens. She would make an incredibly sexy adult, but Bart didn't plan on letting her get a day older.
He returned his attention to Vivi, whose crying was growing louder. He was fairly close to cumming, so he wrapped his hands around her skinny neck and squeezed. Her eyes bulged and her body stiffened, but she went silent save for gagging and choking. Her legs pushed up against him, but failed to move him an inch. Kayla knelt behind her head and started masturbating, her cunt nearly touching Vivi's hair.
"You're so fucking hot right now," Kayla said to her. Bart choked her for another couple seconds, then let go. She gasped and took in several deep breaths before relaxing a bit. Bart handed Kayla's knife back to her.
"End this whore," he said. "Show me I'm not the only slasher in Summermount."
Kayla mounted her friend instantly. With practiced precision, she rubbed her cunt against Vivi's. She kissed her friend's bloody mouth and caressed her face for a moment.
"I'm really doing it this time," said Kayla. Bart stood behind her, jerking off.
"End me," said Vivi quietly, her voice pained. Kayla nodded, kissed her once more, and rammed the knife deep into her friend's head, just above her ear. Vivi went stiff and made a sound like a gag and a scream combined. Kayla yanked the knife out, then thrust it in again, a little higher. This time, Vivi stopped moving as blood began to pool beside her head. Kayla wasn't done. She slid the knife into Vivi's head again and again. It made a schlick going in and a schluck coming out, pulling more blood with it each time. Kayla jabbed the knife in and out like it was a penis and Vivi's head was a cunt. Eventually, she stopped, panting, the knife soaked in blood, dripping onto her hand and arm. Bart peered over her pale shoulder. Vivi's expression was both surprised and calm, like most dead faces. Blood had pooled to three times the size of her head now, and was still dripping. Bart could see bits of her brain here and there, but it wasn't enough.
"This kill is going under the Summermount Slasher's name," he said. "This corpse looks like the Summermount Poker found it. Do better."
Kayla looked behind her. "I wasn't done," she said. She sounded honest. She sounded horny. She stood up and looked at Bart. "Do you have a hammer?" she asked.
Bart shook his head. "You've got two perfectly good feet. Didn't even take your shoes off."
Kayla nodded and set a foot on Vivi's head. She tested her weight, then raised it and slammed it down hard. Bart heard a crack and saw a bit more blood spurt from the knife holes. Kayla stomped on Vivi's head again. This time, it visibly deformed, one eye bulging out of its socket. Kayla stomped again, aiming her heel at a knife hole this time. Vivi's skull caved in and Kayla's foot entered her brain. She yanked it out, dripping gray, pink, and red goo, and slammed it down again. Vivi's eye popped out, followed by a small spurt of brain. Kayla stomped again, and a ring of brains burst out from a crack somewhere in the middle, forming a grotesque halo around her head, barely recognizable anymore. Kayla stomped and stomped and stomped until Vivi's head resembled vomit more than anything else. Her brains were spread around in a two foot radius around the center of the mess. Chunks of her skull were here and there, hair attached to all of them. One of her blue eyes stared up at the ceiling. The other was crushed flat. Kayla's lower half was soaked in blood and her shoes were covered in brains as well. She sighed and stepped back. She pressed one hand to her cunt, her knees buckled, and she squirted her love juices all over what used to be Vivi's head. She yelped and screamed and moaned, rubbing all her cum out. She finished and groaned, sinking to her knees.
Bart smiled, squeezed his dick, and came all over Kayla's hair and back.
Kayla panted, tongue hanging out. She watched her juices glisten in the light on Vivi's mutilated form. It felt way too good. She'd completely destroyed her best friend's head and left it as a pile of blood and brains. She moaned and knelt. She rubbed her clit on Vivi's nipple and stared down at the mess above her shoulders.
Suddenly, there were hands around her neck. She tried to scream and nothing came out. She struggled against the killer's grip.
"Congratulations," he said. "I like you, so I'm going to kill you while you're unconscious. You won't feel a thing."
Kayla gagged and kicked, but it was useless. The killer was nearly twice her size and more than twice as strong. She felt herself slipping away. She willed herself to stay awake. It worked for three seconds, and then she felt nothing.
She woke up to bright lights and lots of white things. Her first observation was that she had, indeed, woken up. Therefore, she was either in the afterlife or dead. And based on what she'd done right before her maybe-death, she wouldn't get to heaven. The bright lights, then, were hospital lights, and all the white was obligatory with a hospital. There were no clouds, no angels, though one of the nurses hovering over her was quite beautiful.
". . . a rape and a murder in one night," she heard someone say. "Your daughter got off light, comparatively. I don't think there's any way to reconstruct the other girl for a funeral."
"Are you sure she's okay? Her neck looks . . . bad. Really bad."
"She should be fine. If she has trouble breathing, get her here immediately."
"Will she have trouble breathing?"
"Possibly. Nothing for sure."
Kayla felt her heart swell when she heard her dad concerned for her for once. What had he said when she left the house? "I hope the serial killer turns you into pasta," was it? Regardless, she felt like she'd betrayed someone, somewhere. Not Vivi. Vivi would have eventually offed herself if Kayla hadn't. Had she started something by killing Vivi, though? She felt different, like a trap door in her head was finally unhinged. She didn't like the feeling, but at the same time, another part of her loved it. Killing Vivi had been one of the most satisfying experiences of her life—which had miraculously lasted longer than 15 years, three months, and 20 days.
If there was one thing Kayla took from all this, it was that she was finally a killer. She'd ended the life of another human. It was vastly more assisted suicide than murder, but it still made her feel incredibly evil, especially in how much pleasure she'd taken from it. She felt herself grow damp under the hospital blankets.
They let her out later that day. Her dad walked her home. He said nothing, but when they reached their house, he hugged her for the first time. Ever.
"I really don't want to lose you," he said.
Would he feel that way if he knew what she'd done? Probably not. But maybe. She wasn't about to tell him, anyway. "Hey, Dad, I stabbed my best friend in the head, then stomped her brains out. Do you still love me?" No. She couldn't say that to anyone, ever.
"If you get pregnant, I'll help you take care of the baby. Much better than I took care of you, I promise you that."
"I don't think I'm pregnant, Dad."
"How do you know?"
The killer had left her alive for a reason, and based on his choice of prey, he liked a specific kind of girl. She highly doubted "pregnant teen" was on his list of kinks, but she’d been surprised an awful lot in her life.
"Dad, I'll grab the mail."
Kayla stopped and flipped open their mailbox as her dad walked into the house. Her sketchbook was in there. Glancing from side to side, she pulled it out, then collected the rest of the mail and headed inside. She deposited three bills and a note from her summer school teacher, likely complaining that she wasn't attending, and went to her room with her sketchbook. She opened it to find a note. She read it.
When you have a sketchbook full of beautiful deaths like this, it's best not to leave your real name and address in the "return to:" box. People might just (correctly) assume you're a sociopath.
Meet me on the corner of Deliwood and Matte tonight at 8 p.m. I want to talk to you.
An interested party,
P.S. You're not pregnant; I came on your legs and tits.
P.P.S. Your work on Vivi was beautiful.
P.P.P.S. I didn't kill Kitty Grant.
The Summermount News E-edition
Summermount Slaughterer strikes again
Fifteen-year-old Vivi Maine was found naked, dead and brutalized yesterday just outside Culligan's old storehouse. Kayla Connelly, also 15, was found beside her, injured and naked, but alive. EMTs treated her immediately and she was allowed home from the hospital earlier today. When questioned, she was silent.
"She's in shock," said her father, Jacob Connelly. "Poor kid just got raped and strangled. Leave her alone."
In return, Kayla said, "I'm not in shock. I just don't want to say anything."
This marks the first time the Summermount Slaughterer has let a victim live. It also appears to be the most ordinary crime he's committed.
Also about the Slaughterer, new evidence suggests Kitty Grant was killed by an animal of some sort, rather than the Summermount Slaughterer.
More information will be posted as we pull it from the police scanner.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Adrian Winters (8:33 p.m.)
Finally someone I dont know. It's great that Kayla survived though.
Rebecca Gray (8:34 p.m.)
eh. kayla is kind of a freak. she draws nasty things during class.
Jacob Connelly (8:36 p.m.)
wat? say that to my face. noene insults my daughter on the internet
Erin Grant (8:37 p.m.)
So my daughter died to a slightly more natural killer. I'm glad Ms. Connelly survived this time, but I have to wonder how an animal big enough to overpower and kill a teenage girl made it this far into Summermount.
Fay Ryan (8:40 p.m.)
I have no idea, Erin. I'll post up a guide on how to escape from large wildlife so that no one else has to die to such a thing.
Alpha Manhood (8:45 p.m.)
Kenny Coleman (8:51 p.m.)
Lol, spambot forgot to spam.
So Fay, when you say "brutalized," what do you mean? You've been pretty non-specific about the murders, and now you're suddenly calling the killer "the Summermount Slaughterer." How is this guy actually killing people?
Fay Ryan (8:57 p.m.)
The Winters kids were raped. Erica was gutted, beheaded, and thrown off the 30th story of Ocean Heights. Dani was shot in the head, raped in the brain, and thrown off the same place. Kitty Grant appeared to have been partially eaten alive. She lost her throat, one arm, half of a breast, her guts, and most of her thighs. Vivi Maine's head was crushed.
Mia Lime (9:02 p.m.)
sick dude why god why i need to go bleach my mind.
Irri Snowski flopped onto her back in the grass, panting and sweating. "Twenty laps," she gasped. "Done."
"Five more for Snowski," said her coach, a black-haired woman in her late twenties. "Never lay on your back."
"Come ooon," said Irri, drawing out the O. "This is cheerleading, not wrestling. You don't need to work us into the ground."
"Get up before I pull you up by your ears."
Irri rolled back on her shoulders, tucked her knees to her chest, and sprang forward, landing on her feet. "Going," she said. "Five more laps it is."
She joined the rest of her team, save for the juniors and seniors who had finished before her. She finished two of her five laps before some of her fellow freshmen finished a single one. To rub it in, she spoke part of a sentence each time she passed one of them, a tiny brunette.
"It helps. . ." Lap. "If you don't. . ." Lap. "Eat like a gamer. . ." Lap. "Over summer."
"Fuck you, Irri," said the brunette, smiling. They finished at the same time and collapsed again. This time, Irri made sure to fall forward, face and chest in the grass, ass up in the air.
"You take that pose quite naturally," said her coach. "Maybe if cheerleading doesn't work out, you could join the walking team."
"Walking team?" said Irri, sitting back on her calves.
"Street walking," said her coach, then continued watching the slower kids.
"Maybe I will," Irri muttered. "It'd pay, at least."
"Lotsa STDs," said the brunette. "Half what you earned would go straight up your cunt."
Irri shrugged. "I was kidding. Stripping is much safer."
"Would you strip when you turned eighteen?"
Irri nodded. "Sure. Sounds like fun."
After that, the coach worked everyone into the ground, especially Irri, consistently making her do a little more than everyone else. Maybe it was the talk about stripping. Regardless, Irri ran laps, did crunches and sit-ups, push-ups, and random exercises that didn't seem like they had much of anything to do with cheerleading.
By the end of practice, Irri could barely move. She stayed on her feet on the coach's demand, but flopped down on her back again the moment the coach dismissed them. She fell asleep on the grass, blond hair spread around her head, sweat-soaked skin shining in the sun.
She woke up to someone's hand on her shoulder. She felt sore, but not groggy.
"Wake up. Come on. Hurry."
It was a girl beside her, with black hair and yellowish-orange eyes. Irri recognized her, but couldn't recall her name or anything.
"What's up?" Irri said, sitting up.
"No time to explain," said the girl. "Just follow me."
Irri stood on sore feet and followed the girl as she ran from the football field toward the school.
"What's going on?" Irri said, easily matching her pace. "Talk and run."
"You know the serial killer? Yeah, you shouldn't be sleeping in a sexy outfit when you're alone."
Irri contemplated this. "I could outrun a serial killer."
"Not while you're asleep. Ssh!"
The girl pressed her back against a corner and peeked into a window. Irri plastered herself against the wall as well.
"I saw someone else looking at you from the other side of the field," the other girl whispered. "Hopefully he's not following us."
"Why were you watching me to begin with?"
"A, I was just wandering, and B, you're sexy as fuck. Before you say you don't swing that way, I mean that platonically—I was drawing you."
The black-haired girl held up a sketchbook Irri hadn't noticed before. She opened it to a drawing of Irri herself on the grass.
"Huh," said Irri. "Our outfits are pretty revealing, aren't they?"
"I'm not complaining," said the other girl. Irri wondered if she was a lesbian. Looking into the girl's amber eyes, she felt something for her. She'd only ever seen that much yellow in animal eyes. They compelled her to come closer.
"Hey, can I try something?" Irri said. Before the other girl could react, Irri stepped in front of her, grabbed her shoulders, and kissed her lips. She kept her eyes open for a moment to watch for a reaction. As expected, the black-haired girl went wide-eyed for a moment, then relaxed and shut her eyes. Her breath tasted like watermelon.
Suddenly, she felt a tug on her hair. Her kiss broke and she felt something clamp over her mouth and nose. She took in a sharp breath, fully intending to turn and strike whoever was behind her. Instead, the drug knocked her out within five seconds.
Kayla knelt beside Irri's unconscious form. Bart knelt on the other side and shoved the chloroform back into his bag. They looked at Irri, then at each other.
"That was . . . unexpected," said Bart. "When I said 'distract her' I doubted she'd take the initiative."
"Unexpected, but amazing," said Kayla. "Too bad I'll never get to fuck her."
"You'll have all the time in the world to fuck her."
"I mean alive."
"Yeah, that's a bummer. Are you sure she's just fourteen? She's D-cup if I'm not wrong."
Kayla leaned down and put her lips to Irri's. "She's had tits since she was ten. Man, you have no idea how much I want her."
"I have a bit of an idea. You can play with her all you want for now. I'll bring the van around."
Kayla didn't even watch Bart go. She straddled Irri and unzipped her long hoodie. Underneath, she was completely naked. She grinded her cunt against Irri's belly, then shuffled down and leaned forward. She pressed her breasts against Irri's and kissed her lips.
Bart came back with the van as Kayla was groping Irri's breasts under her top. She sat up and looked at him.
"You look pretty wild right now," said Bart. "Get her in the van. You can do her for a while yet."
Kayla lifted Irri into the back of the van, hopped in herself, and closed the doors. They started moving. Kayla kissed the unconscious girl again and again. She lifted off Irri's top, exposing her breasts. She dug into them, nibbling and licking the nipples, squeezing them, and sucking them. Tossing her hoodie aside, she pulled down Irri's skirt and panties and lay on top of her, naked, kissing her, grinding her hips and twisting her body. She savored the warmth that wouldn't be there much longer.
The thought of ending Irri's life brought Kayla over the edge. She rose to her knees, moaned, and squirted all over Irri's belly and chest. Then she lay again. The fluids now soaking Irri's skin lubricated Kayla's movements. Every time their breasts rubbed together, there was slick, wet sliding sound that turned Kayla on way too much. She came, hugging Irri tight and kissing her lips. Panting, she lay there on top of Irri for a few minutes, then sat up and climbed over the front seat. Bart glanced over at her.
"You're all wet."
"I just raped a hot girl. Of course I'm wet. Are you hard?"
Bart nodded. "Maybe if you didn't moan like such a whore, I'd be able to concentrate on driving."
"Sorry," said Kayla. She lay on the seat and rested her head on Bart's thighs. She unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans.
"I thought you were gay," he said.
"I'm horny as fuck. Let me be a nympho for a bit."
Kayla sucked Bart off, driving down the road at sixty miles an hour. She didn't have much room to work, but she managed to make him cum. She sucked all the cum into her mouth, then retreated to the back of the van. She opened her mouth and let Bart's cum drip out on Irri's face. She kissed her, then sat back and admired the work of pure art unconscious in front of her.
"Are we there yet?" she asked.
In response, the van slowed, then stopped. Bart got out and opened the back doors. Kayla collected Irri and followed Bart into a house three times the size of hers. It looked pretty normal on the inside: it had a living room, a kitchen, a den, and a dining room, like anyone else’s house. It was awfully big for a single man, though. There were two chairs at the dining room table, however, and two coats on the coat rack just inside the door. One was black and leather, the other was brown and fluffy on the inside.
"This your house?" said Kayla.
"Yeah. Bring her downstairs."
Bart opened a door. Kayla followed him down a long spiral staircase, pausing occasionally to kiss Irri's lips or breasts. When they reached ground, Kayla only stood and stared. There were Dani, Erica, and Vivi, all lined up on pedestals in various sexy poses: Dani had her back arched, pulling off a tight tank top, with unbuttoned bootie shorts sinking down a bit on her hips; Erica was bottomless, one hand on her breast and the other on her cunt, eyes closed and lips parted. Vivi, finally, was on her knees, sucking off a revolver in a considerably less detailed manikin’s hand. They looked like the real things, down to the length of their hair, the texture of their skin, and the color of their eyes.
“God damn,” said Kayla under her breath. “Did you make those?”
"Taxidermy is my hobby," said Bart. "Today, I'm using raw materials."
Bart collected Irri from Kayla and laid her down on a metal table. He opened a drawer below it and pulled out a scalpel and a cleaver. He handed the cleaver to Kayla. It was heavy, but she managed to hoist the blunt end onto her shoulder.
"If she wakes up, chop her head off."
Bart groped Irri's breasts, still wet with Kayla's fluids, then flipped her over and pressed the scalpel into Irri's back at the base of her neck. He cut straight down her spine, slowly, precise as a surgeon. He went back up to the top and cut down Irri's arm. He made a circle around her wrist and started on her other arm.
At that point, Irri stirred. She opened her eyes to see Kayla standing there, naked, with a cleaver on her shoulder. She looked blank for a moment, and then apparently felt the pain. She opened her mouth to scream, and Kayla silenced her forever.
Irri woke up tingling and confused, and a little horny. She saw the girl from earlier standing in front of her, naked. She thought to reach out to her and pull her down so they could have some fun, and then she felt something else. Pain. Intense pain down her back and arms. She opened her mouth to scream, saw the cleaver flash in the light, and then the only pain she felt was in her neck. She felt strange, dizzy, but not like she'd just spun around in circles. She felt like she was very small, and was rolling. The world suddenly turned in front of her eyes and there, she saw her headless body, the skin peeled off her back and arms, revealing the muscle beneath. Blood dripped everywhere on the metal table as a man in black worked, cutting all the skin off her body. She tried to scream. Nothing came out. The girl turned her around and kissed her lips. Irri closed her eyes. What a surreal dream this was. When she opened her eyes again, she fully expected to wake up in the grass on the football field.
Her “dream” faded.
"Beautifully done," said Bart. "Do what you want with her head. I have it memorized."
Kayla pulled Irri's eyelids up and looked into her dead brown eyes, still beautiful. She set the head down on a table, picked up her sketchbook, and drew Irri's head. She lifted it up and drew her neck stump, and then she drew Bart working on her body. Soaking wet now, she picked up Irri's head and rubbed the dead girl's nose and mouth against her cunt. She grinded on Irri's face for a couple minutes, came, then replaced the head on the now-bloody table. She gave Irri another kiss, then turned to Bart. He had Irri's skin completely detached now, stretched out on a tanning rack. Her bloody remains laid on the table, face-up. This was the first time Kayla had seen a human body without skin, so she drew it. Everything was red and beige, save for Irri's breasts, which were yellowish.
"This is the bloodiest murder I've ever seen," said Kayla.
"Wait till we put a girl through a meat grinder."
"Eventually. By the way, show me your sketchbook again. I want to build a manikin of Kitty Grant."
"How long do you need it?"
"About one minute."
Kayla complied. A minute later, Bart handed her book back. "Got it," he said. "It might not be exact, but I'm trusting you drew her correctly."
"I didn’t mess up. What are we gonna do with Irri's. . . do you call that a body?"
Kayla shrugged and looked from Irri's head to Bart. "Hey, do you think I could stay here with you?"
Bart sighed. "A beautiful teenage girl wants to share a house with a serial killer who targets beautiful teenage girls. You'd join my manikins within the week if my wife didn’t find you first."
"I'll just go home when we're done here, then."
"That would be best."
The cheerleading team raced the football team out to the field to start the day's practice. It was a tiny brunette who spotted something.
"What's that by the goalpost?" she said. "Trash bag?"
She approached it. She screamed. Fifty kids and the coach came rushing over. Irri Snowski's flayed body was propped up against the goal post, legs spread wide. Her head, untouched and still pretty, sat between her legs, staring blankly across the field.
The coach was the first to cry.
The Summermount News E-edition
Teen cheerleader murdered
Fourteen-year-old Irri Snowski was found dead on the football field early this morning. She had been flayed and beheaded. Evidence suggests she died the day before.
"She slept on the field after practice," said her coach, Kiwi Clover. "I let her sleep because I assumed she'd wake up in a few minutes. I feel like I could have prevented this."
"It was the scariest thing I've ever seen," said her classmate, Rebecca Gray. "At first, I thought there was a trash bag on the goalpost, but it was all red. I got closer and it was my friend, and she was dead."
This makes Snowski the fourth, possibly fifth victim of the Summermount Slaughterer. The police will pay for any information regarding the killer. As a reporter and a fellow human being, I strongly urge you all to tell them anything you know, before we lose another one.
The killer seems to target attractive teenage girls exclusively. If you or anyone you know is an attractive teenage girl, be safe and be careful at all times. The Summermount Slaughterer is a real threat that we need to take seriously.
Leeli Ryan (11:24 a.m.)
im 12 im proly safe right?
Fay Ryan (11:25 a.m.)
Assume nothing. Always be safe, especially if you're that close to the killer's target age.
Raya Clover (11:26 a.m.)
Can't we all just stay in our houses or something and have a city-wide lockdown?
Fay Ryan (11:30 a.m.)
Unfortunately, no. We all have lives to lead, regardless of if they're safe or not. I strongly advise anyone who doesn't have to go out to stay home, though.
Kayla is like, my spirit animal <33
Alexis McKie held her headset at arm's length. She glared at the screen, squeezed her headset, and gently set it down. Part of her knew it was pointless and a little stupid to get mad at camping snipers, but that fucking dick hadn't moved from the same spot in 15 fucking minutes. Alexis sniffed and instinctively reached for her swear jar before remembering she didn't punish herself for thinking swears.
"Lexi!" said her mom from the door. "I'm going shopping. Do you want to come or are you still 'steamrolling noobs?’"
Lexi shook her head. "Not now, Mom. Thanks, though."
Lexi considered pointing out that she actually was wearing a suit—a white dress shirt unbuttoned save for one button just below her breasts, dress pants, and a jacket hung over the back of her chair. She also considered pointing out that she never said she'd be steamrolling noobs. She's said she was a noob ready to be steamrolled.
Instead, she said, "All right."
Her mom left. She quit Medal of Honor and looked at her lengthening Steam library. She considered Battlefield, but the maps were so big there would be snipers on every hilltop. Counter-Strike? At least people had to wait a few rounds before buying the one-shot kill sniper, the AWP. She discarded that idea. She was a bit too pissed at snipers to play any game containing them, so she collapsed her "Shooter" category and looked at the rest. League of Legends and Dota 2 usually caused her to contribute around ten dollars to her swear jar, so she collapsed her "Rage Games" category as well, thereby eliminating all MOBAs. She looked down her list of racing games next. It was short, but she felt like it wouldn't cost her much, so she started Burnout Paradise.
The game asked her for a webcam photo for her in-game license, so she allowed the game access to her webcam. She'd seen whores on Twitch focus the camera on their tits to get cash, so she moved it up so it only saw her face and shoulders. It was too hot to button her shirt. A high-powered computer pumping out heat certainly didn't help.
She joined an online game. It was full of teenage guys yelling swears over voice chat. She smiled. She felt right at home.
"LexiRage," said one guy, reading Lexi's username. "Lexi, are you an IRL girl?"
Lexi looked around for the voice chat key before realizing it was open-mic. "Yeah," she said. "My license photo is me."
Suddenly, a car smashed into hers. She hadn't even started moving yet. The blue light on her webcam turned on and snapped a photo, presenting her surprised face both to her and her opponent. Her blond updo was coming apart and sticking to her face in the heat. Her skin glistened in the photo.
"Damn!" said one of the guys. "Lexi is fucking hot!"
Uh oh. Lexi stepped on the gas—the A key—and drove as fast as possible from every colored arrow on the map.
"Leave me alone!" she cried into her mic, laughing as she said it. She avoided three attempts on her digital life. On the fourth, her car hit a guardrail, which apparently wrecked it.
"Oh, bullshit," she said. She deposited a quarter into the swear jar. The camera caught a picture of her doing so. The guy who'd crashed into her laughed.
"You have a swear jar! That's gold, dude. That's gold."
"My mom set it up," Lexi said. "I stopped playing League because I was running out of money. Not from buying champions."
On the next crash, Lexi leaned back in her chair, sighing, listing off all the swears she knew in her mind. When the picture flashed on her screen, she saw that she'd exposed more of herself than she'd intended: the picture showed everything from her bellybutton up, including her tits, easily visible through a sweat-soaked shirt.
"Lexi, where do you live? We should meet up some time."
"Hardcore violent sex."
"I knew you'd say that."
"Even the hardcore and violent part?"
"Dude, every guy I've ever met thinks their kinks are hardcore."
"I'd tie you to the ceiling and fuck you in the ass till you shit blood."
"Yawn," said Lexi. "I got tired of bondage when I was twelve."
It wasn't really a lie. She'd grown bored of watching bondage porn at twelve, but hadn't had sex until she was fifteen last year.
Another car rammed into her. A second guy saw her tits and joined the conversation.
"Fuck you from behind and strangle you till you passed out?"
Lexi grinned. "Getting somewhere."
She liked the extreme nature of asphyxia, but she enjoyed being able to breathe.
"You want dangerous sex?" said a guy who hadn't spoken before. "I'll fuck you on the tailgate of a pickup driving down the freeway."
Lexi was drooling by now. She had one hand on her pussy. "Sorry, no," she said. "I don't really wanna fuck. I'm just here to play the game."
She sent a private message to the guy who'd offered to fuck her on the freeway:
LexiRage: where do u live? i want you to fuck me on the freeway.
She got a reply thirty seconds later:
S.S. Bartender: Summermount. I know you live close; I checked your Steam profile. Meet me by the entrance to the freeway.
LexiRage: kk, meet u there. want me to wear sumthin sexy?
S.S. Bartender: Whatever you want.
Lexi smiled and shut down her computer. She stripped naked, masturbated to climax, then donned a tight, revealing tank top and volleyball shorts. She was showing more skin than she would have dared even a couple years ago. She left her house and jogged toward the freeway entrance, only a couple miles away. When she got there, someone was already waiting: an unexpectedly handsome man with black hair and a short beard, maybe in his late twenties. He wore cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. Beside him stood a black-haired girl in a baggy sweatshirt and nothing else who Lexi recognized from school. This was Kayla Connelly, one of the "freaks" who drew disgusting, yet amazing pictures during class. Was she his daughter? No, he’d have to have had her when he was younger than her, unless he was older than he looked.
"Yo, Lexi," said Kayla. "Never thought I'd see the day you fucked a random stranger from the Internet."
"Never thought I'd meet you on a similar date," said Lexi. "Why are you here, anyway?" She stopped herself short of throwing out an insult too. She remembered that Kayla's best friend had been murdered not too long ago and decided not to antagonize her further. She looked at the man. "If you want us to fuck each other, I'm straight. I'm only here so you can stick your dick in me."
"I'm the driver," said Kayla. "Be nice to me or I might just hit a bump. I've always wondered what you'd look like splattered along the road."
"Dude, you always creeped me out."
"You're not alone."
Lexi had noticed it before, but especially now, Kayla's yellowish eyes shined in the sunlight. It was a natural color, she knew, but uncommon. Kayla looked almost feral. It was creepy, yet pretty.
"Get in the car," said the man. He pulled a black ski mask over his face. "Want one of these?"
"Nope," said Lexi, hopping in the truck. "I want people to see my face."
Kayla and the man joined her in the car. Kayla drove, probably illegally, and the man sat by the door on the other side. Lexi sat between them. To her surprise, she didn't get groped immediately. Instead, the man spoke.
"Did either of you read the news today?”
“No, what happened?” Lexi said.
“Irri Snowski's corpse disappeared from the morgue yesterday."
Kayla looked over at him and nearly veered off the road. "What?"
"More to it," said the man. "Someone saw Kitty Grant walking around a few days ago. The morgue workers say her corpse disappeared around two weeks ago, but didn't want to cause a fuss. The funeral was closed-casket anyway."
"Didn't she get mauled by some animal?" Lexi said. Her companions both nodded. "Then we got a zombie or something?"
The man spoke strangely, Lexi noticed. The way he said what he said sounded natural, but his words sounded so forced.
"Don't know," said the man. "It's unconfirmed. If we see Irri walking around in a week, we'll know something's up."
Lexi's arm brushed Kayla's as they hit a bump. She was sweating, gripping the steering wheel tight. Was she one of the two people in the entire world actually afraid of zombies? It wouldn't make sense. If she could draw women spit-roasted and beheaded, she could take a zombie. Then again, the human mind was a strange place.
"Fuckin' weird," said Lexi. She instinctively reached for her swear jar and accidentally groped Kayla's breast. "Sorry," she said. "I have a swear jar and . . . well . . . forget it."
"It's just a boob," said Kayla, and kept driving. They drove a couple more miles out onto the freeway, then the man reached around and opened the back window.
"Out," he said. Lexi crawled out and immediately became wet. The wind tore her hair out of its already-loose updo. The man grabbed her breasts from behind.
"On the tailgate," he said. Lexi swallowed and stepped out onto the tailgate. Trees shot past them at eighty miles per hour. They passed several cars. The drivers almost all did a double-take at Lexi and the man in the back of the truck.
"On your knees."
Lexi knelt, glad to get off her feet. She felt her shorts pulled down, and then the man grabbed her wrists. She screamed. Her life was entirely in his hands now. He plunged his dick into her cunt, pulled her arms back, and fucked her. He let go of one arm and grabbed her hair. He let go of the other and grabbed her breast. Her screams got lost in the wind, but she didn't stop them. It felt amazing to let everything out like this. She came at least twice before he did, all over her back.
As she lay there, ass up and face down after sex, he pulled her up by her hair and pressed something over her mouth. She took a breath, eyes darting around. Suddenly, there were no cars around. Kayla must have turned somewhere, but they were still on the freeway. What was going on, then? Why were her eyelids closing on their own?
When her world went dark, part of her knew she'd never wake up again.
Bart started working on the chains the moment Lexi's body went limp. One for each wrist, one for each ankle. He clipped them onto the truck and slung Lexi's naked body over the edge. The chains caught and held, holding Lexi to the side of the truck, safely off the road and away from the wheels. At this point, people would start calling the police if they saw, but there was no one around. They entered a light tunnel and Bart peeked through the window.
"You're not gonna be able to draw this one," he said. "I have pictures, but I know you like to use the real thing."
"It's all right. She sat in front of me in programming class, I drew her so fucking much."
"Good. Keep your speed and shred that bitch against the wall."
Bart saw her smile in the mirror. "I've always wanted to do this," she said. Bart closed the window and looked over the side of the truck. Kayla brought it closer and closer to the wall until it was only inches from Lexi's body. He fumbled for his phone, set it to record video, and focused it on Lexi just as she hit the wall.
Lexi came apart. First, her face hit the wall. There was a puff of red, pink, and white smoke, a sound like slurping yogurt, and just like that, Bart could see the front of Lexi's skull and the very core of her brain. Her breasts hit next and squished a little before shredding against the cement. Then, Kayla finished it. She pulled over another foot. Lexi's body squished between the wall and the truck. One of the three had to give way, and it just so happened Lexi was the softest. Her body turned into red and pink slush and smoke as bits of her flew off. The rest of her head went, then her heart exploded, and what Bart thought was a lung went flying off to the side. He saw several bits of bone sail off behind the truck, a glop of intestines following closely. Sparks and blood sprayed from between the wall and the truck for just a few seconds. Bart shielded his phone, catching everything on video. When Kayla slowed and pulled away from the wall, all that remained of Lexi McKie was a splotch of blood on the side of the truck. Behind them for a mile or so, the rest of her spread along the road.
They stopped. Kayla hopped out of the truck. She took one look at the side and ran back down the tunnel, presumably looking for parts to stick up her cunt. Bart followed her.
The first relatively intact piece Kayla managed to find was half of her uterus. She pulled up her sweatshirt a bit and rubbed her clit. She spotted something else down the road. Taking the uterus with her, she approached it. It was big and red, but Lexi didn't quite know what it was. She kept walking, admiring the streak of blood running down the wall. Bits of Lexi were littered here and there: her stomach on the other side of the road, her intestines in a bloody glop near the wall. Kayla knelt beside what she assumed was a piece of Lexi's thigh. It still had skin attached, so she rubbed the skin against her slit till she came.
Bart approached her. "Should we leave her like this?"
Kayla tossed the bit of thigh over her shoulder. "Yeah. Give the news something to write about."
The Summermount News E-edition
Slaughterer's most grisly murder yet?
Somebody's remains were found in a tunnel on the interstate. It took the police several minutes to identify the remains as female, and an entire day to identify the victim as Lexi McKie, a 16-year-old junior in Summermount High.
"It's those goddamn video games," said McKie's neighbor, Mark Tanga. "Every day since she moved in, it was 'fuck you campers, fuck you thumpers, fuck you AWPers, fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, fuck. So she finally went out and tried to live her video games in real life, and now she doesn't have one."
"All we know is that McKie was playing video games, and then she died," said mayor candidate Jane Rutherford. "While many claim video games can't be a factor in this murder, it's worth noting that McKie was playing Burn Out: Paradise [sic] shortly before her death, a violent racing game that awards points to players for killing each other."
On the other side of the fence, I talked to the mother of the victim, Angie McKie. "Lexi played video games her entire life and she's never killed anyone. Video games don't make anyone murder or get murdered. Anyone saying they do is just looking for a strawman so they can blame my daughter's death on something they don't like."
Ignoring that accusing someone of looking for strawmen doesn't exempt you from doing the same, I believe it best to leave this to the police. We know the murder matches the level of brutality of the Slaughterer's other kills, and we know Alexis McKie fit in with the killer's target demographic. I advise readers to assume nothing and focus on the real issue: that Alexis McKie was killed by the Summermount Slaughterer.
Just because I want to know how my readership feels, though, I'll include a poll. Don’t make me regret it, comments section.
Were video games a factor in Alexis McKie's death?
Yes (23 votes)
No (144 votes)
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Matt Pearson (12:30 p.m.)
Really? Are you fucking kidding me? 20 votes for yes and 11 for no? This girl just got slaughtered and people think it's because she played a goddamn racing game?
Fay Ryan (12:31 p.m.)
I played the game in question yesterday. While it does award points for crashing into other players, it doesn't feature any visible human characters.
Jaina B (12:45 p.m.)
Lol, After You Say That The Poll Reverses.
Drake M (12:52 p.m.)
Linked on r/gaming, no wonder.
Minnie Suda (12:55 p.m.)
It's Really Hard To Type Like This Why The Fuck Do People Do This God Damn It It's So Stupid.
Jaina B (12:56 p.m)
Minnie Suda (12:59 p.m.)
COMMENT REMOVED BY ADMIN
Fay Ryan (1:04 p.m.)
Stay on topic. Read Raymond Grant's articles if you want to comment on anything English-related. He'll be back this week.
Gary Newell (1:06 p.m.)
Wasn't he Kitty Grant's dad?
Fay Ryan (1:08 p.m.)
Yes. He left on vacation to mourn after she died.
Adrian Winters (1:10 p.m.)
didn't Someone see her walking around not too long ago?
Gary Newell (1:13 p.m.)
Yeah, I heard about that. That's so weird, but I'd be really happy if she was alive.
Adrian Winters (1:13 p.m.)
yeah, me too.
I remember reading these. Liked them then. Glad they're being put back up. I might want that pdf, but only when it's all done here. I like having something to look forward to seeing when I come on here every few days.
You should put it into a download location at the end once everything's up.
That's the plan. I'd have posted it at the beginning, but I'm hoping that as I post the story, I'll find any errors I missed and be able to fix them in the PDF before posting it publicly.
Alyssa and Kitty
Kayla met Bart on the beach a couple days after they'd murdered Alexis McKie. She wore her usual hoodie, but she had a red bikini underneath this time, in case it got too hot to keep the hoodie on. As it turned out, she removed it and tied it around her waist within five minutes. Bart, in a white T-shirt and swimsuit, looked oblivious to the heat.
"Not too bad a body," Bart said, looking her up and down. "Sure you're fifteen?"
Kayla groped her own tits. "Pretty sure."
She looked around the beach. No one saw her grope herself, apparently. It was just her and Bart sitting near the water. Kayla continued searching the beach, scoping out potential targets. There was a cute black girl over there, but she looked a bit below Bart's target age. There was another dark-skinned girl, maybe her sister, older, but maybe too old for Bart. She was in her late teens or early twenties if Kayla wasn't mistaken.
"Hey, Bart," said Kayla, turning to him. "I've been wanting to ask this for a while—why didn't you kill me?"
"Because you killed Vivi.”
“Just happy to see someone else with taste as good as yours?”
Bart smiled. “Yes. You remind me of my wife.”
"Oh." She probably should have asked more, but left it at that.
Adrian Winters lightly tapped the girl's knee with a mallet. Nothing happened. He looked up into her face. She looked back down at him and cocked her pretty head.
"Is something supposed to happen?"
"You're supposed to kick out a bit, like a reflex. Is there a corelet for reflexes?"
"I don't think so," said the girl. "It's not audio or visual, is it?"
"I guess it could be both."
Adrian shrugged and plugged a USB cable into the opened back of her head. He shuddered, remembering that he'd removed her brain not too long ago. It had been completely and irreversibly dead, but it was a human brain all the same, full of memories and emotions and personality he could never replicate with programmed corelets.
All the same, he made a valiant effort. The girl sitting in front of him, smiling beautifully, was visually indistinguishable from Kitty Grant. As far as her personality went, he'd come close. This artificial Kitty was like her predecessor save for some subtleties he needed to work out. He needed to know what had made Kitty Grant who she was, and why he couldn't look at this artificial human as the girl he loved.
He played around with her emotion corelets and watched her face fall in sadness, rise in joy, and twist in confusion. She was absolutely adorable. And yet. . .
"What are you doing to me?" she said. In her voice, there was anguish. Adrian stopped, stepped away from his computer, and hugged her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll stop playing with your emotions."
He held her for another minute. Slowly, she reached around him and let her head rest on his shoulder. He couldn't feel her breath. She wasn't breathing. That was part of what broke his romantic illusion: no matter what he tried to do, he couldn't rid himself of the knowledge that the real Kitty was dead and he would never have her back.
"Someone just connected to your WiFi," said Kitty.
Adrian pulled the USB cord from Kitty's "brain" and replaced the back of her head. She stood, taking his hand to steady herself as she did. He watched, fascinated, as her cyborg body worked. Her real skin and muscle merged seamlessly with the artificial additions. Her stomach was an empty hollow, given shape with stretched rubber, but she didn't need her insides anymore. Adrian had emptied everything to lighten her frame. Still holding his hand, she walked toward the door, taking careful steps.
"Wait," said Adrian. "Go around back and come from behind. Give 'em a scare like the world's cutest zombie."
Kitty smiled and turned around. Adrian helped her as far as the back door, then returned to the front door and opened it. Sure enough, there was someone on the curb in a minivan on a laptop. Adrian picked up that morning's paper and pretended to read it. He watched Kitty approach the car, walking nonchalantly till she got close. She knocked on the window. The moocher looked. He screamed, turned on his car, and shot away from the scene. Adrian laughed. Kitty started to, then stopped. Her smile faded.
"Oh, no. . ." Adrian mumbled, and ran out to Kitty. "What's wrong? Are you all right? He was scared because he thought you were dead. It was nothing to do with you."
Kitty walked into him and rested her head on his chest. "I know. My heart still hurts."
She didn't have a heart. Adrian hugged her.
Kayla scoped out a curvy brown-haired woman in a white bikini approaching them. She was completely gorgeous, tanned to perfection with a bright white smile and eyes matching her hair. She was older than Kayla and younger than Bart, probably in her early to mid-20s, if her face and form were anything to go by.
"Bart," Kayla said. "Look."
Bart looked. He waved at the woman. She walked up to them and sat between them.
"And how's my serial killer?" she said, giving Bart a kiss. She looked down at Kayla. "This is the girl I've been hearing about?"
Bart nodded. "Kayla, Alyssa. This is my wife. Alyssa, Kayla. My partner in crime."
Alyssa gave Kayla a long stare. She cupped Kayla's face in her hands. "Why do you dye your hair? It would be so pretty red."
"How do you know it's red?" Kayla said, a bit surprised.
"Lucky guess," said Alyssa. She leaned in close so her nose was nearly touching Kayla's. Damn, was she pretty. She touched her lips to Kayla's ear and whispered, "Follow me. I want to show you something."
Kayla was on her feet in seconds. Alyssa smiled and turned. Kayla followed her up the beach and to the parking lot. Once there, Alyssa entered a red city car and motioned for Kayla to join her. She put the car in gear and drove. Kayla sat with her thoughts for a minute or so. This was Bart's wife. First of all, that guy had a wife. Meaning, he lived with a model-quality woman and she was still alive. Secondly, this model-quality woman supposedly knew about everything.
"So who was your favorite so far? Your favorite kill, that is."
She knew everything.
"Irri," Kayla said. "The cheerleader."
"Mm. . ." said Alyssa. "She looked delicious. I wish Bart would've kept her corpse around. But no. I have to go shopping instead. Do you know how much I hate shopping?"
"You're a woman and you hate shopping?"
"Money spent is money not accumulated, Kayla."
Kayla knew this lady was Bart's wife, a woman he evidently loved enough to marry. But Kayla wanted to kill her. She wanted to run a box cutter down her torso and get herself off on the woman's guts before cutting her huge breasts off, slicing them to bits and burning them in front of her. She wanted to remove her non-vital organs one-by-one and slap her in the face with each, then pull her heart out and smash it in front of her dying eyes. Then she'd dismember each of Alyssa's limbs and finish by twisting her head off. She'd masturbate with the dismembered corpse for a day or so, then draw everything, burn the remains, and scatter the ashes on the beach.
Could she? She knew she could take Alyssa by surprise, but Bart would find out, and he'd probably kill Kayla for it.
"We're here," said Alyssa. Kayla looked up. They were at Bart's house. "Follow me."
Kayla followed Alyssa into her house. They went upstairs and entered a large bedroom with a huge king-sized bed with black blankets and sheets.
"This is where Bart and I fuck," said Alyssa, like a tour guide. She motioned to an expensive-looking video camera, then a wall TV on the wall opposite the bed. "That's where I watched the movie of you and Bart killing Alexis McKie. It was great. I came a couple times. He said he'd record the rest of his jobs from here on out."
"He's paid to kill. He's not a murderer. He's an assassin."
"Who the fuck would put bounties on teenage girls?"
"I have no idea and I don't care. Get on the bed."
Kayla sat, but Alyssa moved faster. She pressed a button on the video camera, grabbed Kayla's shoulders, and pushed her onto her back. Within seconds, Kayla's top was halfway across the room.
"You cover these with a hoodie?" Alyssa said. "You make no sense."
She kissed Kayla's lips and rubbed their breasts together, losing her own top somewhere in the process. She sat up and tore off Kayla's remaining garment with all the patience of a shark in a feeding frenzy. Kayla once again didn't see Alyssa's panties go, but they were there one moment and gone the next. Next thing she knew, one of her legs was between Alyssa's breasts and Alyssa was fucking her hard.
"Shut up and fuck."
Alyssa grabbed Kayla's hair and both hands and pulled her up so her nose touched her knee. Alyssa smashed their cunts together, both dripping wet. Fluids soaked the sheets and their skin. Kayla felt a sting on her face and it took her a moment to realize Alyssa had slapped her. This felt so surreal. Usually, Kayla was the one fucking Vivi like this. But now Vivi was dead, and Alyssa was apparently a dom. She took Kayla's face in one hand and shoved her head down against the blankets, leaned forward, and came. She gritted her teeth and held her cunt tightly against Kayla's as her body shuddered and her voice leaked out between her teeth. Then, without a moment's rest, she continued. This time, she put her hands around Kayla's throat and started to squeeze. Kayla choked for breath and her hands automatically shot to Alyssa's wrists.
"Fight it," said Alyssa. "Fight like your life depends on it."
Kayla did. She'd have screamed if she had the breath. Both her legs were useless. She dug her nails into Alyssa's perfect arms and tore down, wide-eyed, fighting just to keep herself awake. Ten small trails of blood followed her fingers down Alyssa's arms. To her horror, the crazy nympho seemed not to notice. She stared up into the woman's smiling face, flushed from pleasure. She raised her arms and squeezed Alyssa's neck. She pulled hard in the back, intending to break it. She was far too weak. She pressed her palms forward and focused on cutting off Alyssa's oxygen, but it was already too late. Her own vision was fading and Alyssa was still moaning. As she passed out, she thought she heard footsteps in the hall.
Bart found his wife fucking a motionless Kayla on the bed, both of them naked and covered in sweat and cunt juice.
"All right, let her go," said Bart. Alyssa removed her hands from Kayla's neck, came, and collapsed on top of her. She rolled over.
"Here," she said. "You can have your artist back."
Bart pulled Kayla's limp form into a sitting position. He put two fingers to her neck and sighed. "Were you trying to kill her?"
"Yes," said Alyssa. "She'd have fed us for a week or more."
"She's my partner. Don't kill her."
"Says the guy with a boner for the sleeping whore." Alyssa clicked off the video camera. "Shame. This would have sold great."
"You've sold plenty of snuff films."
"Meaning I shouldn't sell more?"
"Meaning you shouldn't snuff my friend."
"You heard me."
Bart rested Kayla on the bed and tilted her head back. He put his lips to hers and gave her breath, then compressed her chest a few times. She started breathing after he repeated this twice.
"You're not going to make me go shopping, are you?"
"No. Once Kayla wakes up, the three of us are going hunting. My next contract is in."
Alyssa sat up. "Who is it?"
"Kiwi Clover, high school cheerleading coach. She's twenty-seven, more in your ballpark. You'll love her."
Alyssa licked her lips.
The Summermount News E-edition
Kitty Grant sighted: hoax or miracle?
Numerous sightings of 16-year-old Kitty Grant, who died July 6, have been reported in the weeks past her death. Yesterday, a man reported she knocked on his window as he was browsing the Internet in his car. Two days ago, a woman claims she saw Grant in front of a pet shop, playing with the kittens through the window. The shop owner has confirmed this. Three days ago, Grant's parents reported seeing her on a bike in front of their home. They haven't seen her since.
"When I saw her, I couldn't believe she was real," said her mother, Erin Grant, in an interview earlier today. "They showed me her body on the seventh, but I saw her alive just three days ago, and people have been talking to me and telling me they saw her since. It's too good to be true—I want my little girl to be alive and with us again, but I don't want to lose her all over again."
"I thought she was gone forever," said her father, Raymond Grant, our resident English columnist. "But she's not. I don't know what's going on, but I know that my daughter is here in Summermount, and she's alive. They say the Lord works in mysterious ways, but I say the Lord works in downright beautiful ways sometimes."
Raymond Grant will be returning to the news ahead of schedule.
Kitty's apparent return has the entire city both hopeful and confused.
"Wouldn't it be amazing if you could see the person you loved after they died?" said Adrian Winters. "Wouldn't it be amazing if they just came back? What if this is the beginning of that? What if Kitty is only the first, and the other girls who died are coming back too?"
I hold that it's better to assume nothing and to stick to facts. Kitty Grant, or a very convincing lookalike, is wandering Summermount. All witnesses claim it was her beyond a reasonable doubt. The icing on the cake is that she was sighted playing with kittens, while it's well-known that Kitty Grant loved cats and assumed that she died protecting them.
What do you think? Is this Kitty Grant the real thing, back from the dead? Is she a ghost? A lookalike? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Casey Shaw (12:01 p.m.)
Calling it now - she is a ghost.
Adrian Winters (12:03 p.m.)
I dont think so, she looked pretty real to me.
Alfred Ryan (12:06 p.m.)
God brought an innocent soul back in His great mercy.
Fay Ryan (12:10 p.m.)
Grampa? When did you get a computer? I thought the church wouldn't let you have one.
Alfred Ryan (12:11 p.m.)
I'm retired. You should go to church more.
Kayden North (12:16 p.m.)
YYES!!! I hope to god shes really alive, she never deserved to dye.
Kayden North (12:16 p.m.)
Max Morten (12:20 p.m.)
well id be happy if the girls all came back. except vivi, good riddance to that freak.
Faire Sharaan (12:23 p.m.)
You are an asshole Max. Vivi was always nice to you.
Fay Ryan (12:25 p.m.)
You haven't changed, Max.
Faire Sharaan (12:29 p.m.)
I can't believe you dated that dickbag Fay.
Max Morten (12:32 p.m.)
at least i'm hnonest. i dont have to pretent do miss someone i didn't like.
Grammar Nazi (12:35 p.m.)
Hello, Max. Why don't you sit down over there?
Alpha Enlargement (12:40 p.m.)
It's back and BETTER THAN EVER! Alpha Male Enlargement is GUARANTEED to ENLARGE your pathetic penis into an ENORMOUS ERECTION so you can shoot up into that SPECIAL someone. Or just some random whore, like Fay Ryan.
COMMENTS DISABLED BY ADMIN
After Irri Snowski's death, Kiwi Clover kept an extra careful watch on the cheerleaders. She didn't let any of them leave practice alone, and even gave a few rides to their houses. It cost her a lot of extra money for gas, but she wasn't about to let them walk home alone and possibly be picked off by the Summermount Slaughterer, as the news had taken to calling him.
Today, none of the girls needed rides home. Their parents all came to pick them up, quite understandably. Kiwi waited till all of them were gone, then got in her car and headed down to the beach. There, she changed into a white one-piece and waded out into the cool water. It felt good after a long day. Coaching volleyball, track, swimming, tennis, and cheerleading all in one day took its toll after a while. She was usually exhausted and impatient by the time cheerleading rolled around, but recently, she found it easier. Not only was she teaching 25 girls to cheerlead, but she was now responsible for their lives. She was lucky Irri's parents hadn't pressed charges. She wouldn't have begrudged them for doing so.
Swimming in cool water was something she's been looking forward to for a long time. She hadn't been to the beach since the beginning of summer.
"Kiwi!" a woman called from the shore. Kiwi looked. Alyssa Holmes, the student economics teacher, waved at her. Kiwi gave her a wave and headed for shore.
"It's been a while," said Kiwi.
"Yeah," said Alyssa. "Couple months, I think. This is the first time I've seen you here."
"I coach pretty much all the girls' sports teams," said Kiwi. "Usually I just go home and sit around. You know what that's like?"
"Not as much as you think," said Alyssa. "I have a summer job. Hey, sit down. Standing and talking is awkward."
Alyssa led Kiwi to a towel and an umbrella. Alyssa removed a book from the towel and let Kiwi sit before doing so herself.
"So you teach cheerleading. You knew Irri Snowski?"
"Yes. Can we talk about alive people instead? I don't like guilt."
"Fair enough. Any interesting students?"
Kiwi sighed. "They're all interesting in their own way. I have a girl on the track team, Casey Shaw—you know her?"
Alyssa nodded. "Freshman last year. Pretty kid."
"Did you know she has post-traumatic stress disorder?"
"Really? She seemed normal. Didn't say much, but normal."
Kiwi nodded. "Car horns make her either freeze up or get all jumpy. She actually screamed when someone flashed their headlights at her after practice a couple weeks ago."
"Poor kid. I wonder what happened to her."
"Car crash, probably."
During the ensuing silence, a girl approached them from behind. Kiwi recognized her as Kayla Connelly, a girl who went out for exactly zero sports. "Hey, Miss Clover," she said. "I got a friend at the airport, needs a ride."
"Who told you I was giving out free rides?" said Kiwi.
"Dunno," said Kayla. "I got a text just now and you were the first adult I saw who I knew."
"Fine," Kiwi said, standing and brushing herself off. "I'll give your friend a ride. Can't have a serial killer putting me out of business."
"Thanks," said Kayla, turning. She went for the parking lot.
"She had friends?" Alyssa asked. "I always thought she was a loner. Her and that Vivi girl."
Kiwi shrugged. "Makes sense she wouldn't want another friend to die."
"I'll come with you. My next stop is the airport anyway."
Kiwi and Alyssa followed Kayla to the parking lot, then led her to Kiwi's car. She drove them to the airport. Kayla directed her to the last hanger off the runway, farthest from both the road and the main building. The place was almost deserted, and the hanger door was even closed.
"Sure she's here?" said Kiwi. "Looks like a ghost town."
"Pretty sure," said Kayla. "There's only one airport in Summermount."
Kiwi shrugged and left the car idling in front of the hanger. She pulled the side door open and stepped inside. The light was already on, illuminating a small Cessna and some kind of biplane Kiwi didn’t recognize. Underneath the Cessna’s propeller was a girl's limp form. Kiwi stepped closer, narrowing her eyes, trying to make out the figure.
"Irri . . .?" she said. The form wore Irri's cheerleading outfit and had her hair—and it had her body. "Irri!"
Kiwi ran the last steps and knelt. Irri's skin was cold, but she was fully intact, head and all. Her mouth was slightly open, but her eyes were closed. She wasn't breathing.
"No way. . ." Kiwi breathed. She was too late. The serial killer was already here.
She heard the plane's engine start. In the worst move of her life, she stood up. She heard a thunk and an odd coolness in her head. She felt the ground hit her before she realized she was falling. She saw something red and pink drip in front of her eyes. And then she was dead.
Bart watched the dark-skinned woman run into the hanger from the cockpit of the far Cessna. He saw Kayla and Alyssa enter behind her, slowly. He waited a moment, and then Alyssa nodded at him. He turned on the engine and set the propeller spinning. He heard a thunk. Alyssa and Kayla ran forward, and Bart turned off the plane.
"Watch, watch," Alyssa whispered to Kayla, pulling her close and squeezing her breast through her tank top. Kayla watched Kiwi kneel beside the Irri manikin. She touched her cunt through her shorts and waited. The propeller started spinning, and to Kayla's surprise, Kiwi stood without even looking up. The propeller took the top of her head off in a puff of red and pink and a quick spray of blood. The top half of her head splattered against the hanger wall. The rest of her body collapsed beside the manikin. Blood leaked from her head as she twitched a few times. Her brain started falling out, and then she went still. Kayla ran forward with Alyssa close behind.
"Hot damn, she's sexy," said Kayla. She knelt and began cutting Kiwi's swimsuit down the middle with a small switchblade. Bart hopped out of the plane and admired the scene. He collected the top of Kiwi's head, scraping it off the wall, and tossed it in a black trash bag.
"Hey," he said. "If you two nymphos could contain yourselves for a moment, we should get her home before we rape her corpse."
Kayla stood up, a line of pussy juice connecting Kiwi's cunt and hers for just a moment. Alyssa followed suit. She reached into her cunt and pulled a chunk of Kiwi's brain out.
"Fine," said Alyssa. "We do get to eat her, right?"
Bart nodded. "You can eat your heart out. Or hers, rather."
Alyssa lifted Kiwi's top half and nodded to Kayla. Kayla picked up her legs and Bart pulled the car close to the door. Alyssa and Kayla loaded the bloody corpse into the back seat. Both living women joined the body and kept her blood from hitting the seats. Bart returned to collect the Irri manikin, then drove away. Kayla stuffed a bunch of paper towels in a hat and put it on Kiwi's head to fool anyone looking into the car. The back windows were tinted, but it was best to be safe. Regardless of what Bart had said, Kayla and Alyssa spent the entire trip molesting Kiwi's corpse, rubbing her pussy, her tits, kissing her all over the place, kissing each other, masturbating, and generally making a sticky mess of themselves.
"Moan less," said Bart. "You're so distracting."
"Someone's got a boner," Kayla said.
"I might just snuff you to calm it down."
Alyssa came. She didn't even try to hide it. Ignoring that she had just climaxed to the idea of Kayla dying, Kayla kissed her and came as well.
When they arrived home, Bart sat for a moment. He turned in his seat and looked at his wife and partner. They'd both managed to lose their clothing and sat, naked and soaking wet, staring back at him, trying to look innocent. They'd gotten Kiwi's body wet with their juices, but none of her blood had fallen and left evidence, so that was a plus.
"Happy birthday, Alyssa," he said. "I'd let you celebrate with twenty-three girls, but I do believe this will be your first time eating a black woman."
"Toss Kayla in the oven and you'll make my birthday perfect," said Alyssa.
"Hate to deny your birthday wishes, but I have a better idea," said Kayla, stepping out of the car. "Give me a week and I'll bring you a video of the best slaughter you've ever seen. I'll even bring back some meat for you."
Alyssa nodded and left the car. "Fair enough. Let's see what you can do."
They brought Kiwi inside. "To the basement," said Bart. He led them down the stairs and directed them to the table they'd flayed Irri on. He knelt and checked the drain under the table, then took a knife from the rack to the side. The girls set Kiwi down and Bart observed the corpse. Kiwi had been an attractive woman—it seemed to be a trait Summermount bred—with long dark hair, toned muscles, and beautiful brown skin. The propeller had chopped the top of her head off about halfway up the forehead, leaving enough of her head intact to still look pretty. Bart raised his cleaver and chopped it off at the neck. Kayla picked it up.
"Go wild," said Bart. "It's all yours."
Kayla did, indeed, go wild. Alyssa joined in. Bart didn't look around at them. He focused on Kiwi, but their moans were hard to ignore. He stuck his dick in her neck hole and fucked her as he cut her belly open. He removed her guts, tube by tube, dumping them in a bucket beside the table. It took him a few chops to open up her chest cavity, but once he did, he plucked out her lungs, came down her throat, and finally removed her heart. Then came the slow part. He chopped off her arms piece-by-piece, two or three inches at a time. This would make the cooking faster, but he was getting tired by the end and he still had her legs left. He looked briefly at the girls behind him. They were actually standing fairly still, masturbating, watching him destroy Kiwi. Kiwi's head was on a table near them.
"Anyone care to help me with her legs?"
Alyssa got there first. Kayla occupied herself with watching while Bart and Alyssa worked. They each took one leg, removing her feet first, then her shins and calves in four sections, and finally her thighs. These took a while and they had to switch to tooth saws, but when they finished, it was worth it. Kiwi's body lay splayed on the table, chunks of her arms and legs aptly arranged like sliced kiwi fruits on a plate. Bart and Alyssa stuck her body in position with spits of varying sizes, two horizontally through her torso, and one bigger one vertically. They carried her to a freezer and put her in it. They put the slices of her limbs into an oven, turned it on, and waited.
For the longest time, they just stood there, watching, the pieces cook slowly through a glass window. Then Alyssa said, "Orgy time?"
Orgy time it was. Alyssa tackled Kayla, making out with her moments after they hit the floor. Bart took Alyssa from behind, moved down, fucked Kayla, then returned to Alyssa. Groping both of them, he fucked them in turn. Occasionally, he left to check the meat, then returned to the living girls. As they continued, the smell drifted to them. It made Alyssa hornier, apparently. She hugged Kayla tighter, squeezing her. Kayla screamed, and Bart couldn't tell if it was from pain or pleasure or both. He came between them, further wetting their shining chests and bellies.
Bart stepped away, slightly dizzy, but stayed upright. Alyssa and Kayla kept at it for another couple minutes before finally relaxing and rolling off each other.
"Food's about ready," said Bart. "Get dressed."
He carried six pieces of thigh upstairs on a platter. As much as he'd like to carry the entire torso up and have a feast, three people couldn't eat that much. Kayla and Alyssa came downstairs, dressed in casual clothes: black skirt and white tank top for Kayla, jeans and a long T-shirt for Alyssa. They looked like normal people for now.
They sat and ate without much ceremony. Bart waited the entire meal for Kayla to make a "tastes like chicken, but. . ." comment. She never did.
They had no leftovers. Alyssa invited Kayla to stay the night. Kayla looked to Bart, and Bart shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I can control myself," he said. "I'm just worried Alyssa will snuff you in the night."
Alyssa stroked an imaginary beard. "What would ever give you that idea?"
At midnight, long after Alyssa had fallen asleep post-sex, Kayla nudged Bart awake. "Bart," she whispered. "About Alyssa's birthday slaughter."
"How much would your employer pay for an entire eighth grade class?"
The Summermount News E-edition
High school sports coach disappears
Kiwi Clover, 27, disappeared July 26. Witnesses last saw her on the beach at around 4:45 p.m., but there have been no reports of subsequent sightings. After Clover's three-day absence, search parties were sent out. None of them have returned any news so far. Any information on Clover's whereabouts will be rewarded.
In other news, I saw Kitty Grant on July 28 near the beach. I talked with several beachgoers, who verified that my eyes weren't going bad. Kitty Grant is, in fact, walking around Summermount, but apparently hasn't returned home. No one has managed to talk with her so far. That's my next goal.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Fay Ryan (12:00 p.m.)
I'd like to take a moment to say that swears, threats and other such bile are strictly prohibited in the comments from now on in lieu of several comments getting out of hand not only on my articles, but on several others. Please respect everyone else who takes the time to make their e-voices heard. Also, please take the time to make your comments legible. Proofread them once over, at the very least.
Adrian Winters (12:01 p.m.)
Maybe kiwi's disappearance has something to do with Kitty's zombie/ghost/reincarnation/thing?
Casey Shaw (12:03 p.m.)
I talked to Kitty. She hugged me and left.
Fay Ryan (12:07 p.m.)
That's adorable. Weird, but adorable. What did you say?
Casey Shaw (12:13 p.m.)
I said, "are you okay? You look sad". I didn't even know it was her till later.
Kitty Grant (12:16 p.m.)
I hugged you because you looked many times sadder than I ever have. Be happy, Casey.
Jonah Layman (12:16 p.m.)
That's not Kitty's IP.
Fay Ryan (12:17 p.m.)
Of course not. She hasn't returned home. It's a library computer. Kitty, if you're still there, can I talk to you?
Fay Ryan (1:11 p.m.)
Seventeen-year-old Casey Shaw jumped off the edge of the Ocean Heights hotel. For just a moment, she spread her arms wide like an eagle's wings, a short chain clutched tightly in one hand. If she were to commit suicide, this was how she'd do it. It felt so open, so free, though what waited a hundred yards below certainly wouldn't be so liberating. She'd realized that the first time she tried to kill herself, four years ago. That was also when she'd inadvertently found the zipline. She flung the chain around it as she passed it no more than ten feet from the top of the hotel. She caught the chain in her empty hand and held tight as the zipline realized it had a passenger. She felt her arms yanked away from her body, but let the zipline give a little before bending her elbows. The wind tore her hood off. Auburn hair swished in and out of her face and stuck in her mouth as she screamed in joy.
Down, down three hundred feet, there were cars. There were lights, sirens, horns, and speed limit signs not nearly enough people paid attention to, and stop lights way too many people ran. Engines chugged away down there, far below Casey. She wished it could stay that way forever. She laughed as she gained speed, curling her legs and preparing to let go and land. The shorter building approached fast, maybe thirty or forty miles an hour. She was probably exaggerating the speed in her mind, but up here, no one could tell her otherwise. She let go of the chain with one hand and let herself fall. She hit the roof hard, but was off her feet in seconds. She collapsed into a shoulder roll, stood, and she was still going too fast. She fell again and rolled on her back. Then she was at a manageable speed. She ran comfortably at around twenty miles an hour across the roof. Maybe it was really fifteen or sixteen. Twenty sounded much more fun. It was fast, regardless. She leapt from that building and tapped a brick at the edge of another with her foot before landing and rolling, keeping her speed.
"I am alive!" she shouted into the air. "I am free!"
It sounded corny, but up if she screamed corny lines and no one was around to hear it, only she cared.
She jumped again and hooked her chain around another zipline. She saw a person on the other end and immediately blushed. Had they heard her shouting corny lines? Probably not.
The figure waved. There was something in their hand. Casey squinted to see it.
A wrench? Was the figure a repairman? She saw him—or her—put the wrench on the pole holding the zipline. Maybe they were tightening it for her.
The wrench turned left.
Casey's joy drained in an instant. Horror replaced it, unlike any she'd felt before. She was at least two hundred feet above the ground and not even halfway across the zipline. The figure turned the wrench again. Casey felt the line drop a little.
"No!" she screamed. The figure held up a finger and turned the wrench again. The line dropped even more. Now, Casey would hit the side of the building when she landed. She would still have a chance to catch the ledge, though. She'd done that plenty of times, at least.
The line gave out.
Casey didn't even scream as she started to fall. As the wind changed direction and came up to meet her, she felt oddly introspective. It wasn't exactly her life flashing before her eyes, but it was close. She saw the cars approaching fast below her and realized that she'd die with the things she hated—quite possibly on top of one. Dani and Erica Winters' remains flashed through her mind. She'd been one of the few to see them before the police and paramedics boxed the area out. That was what she'd look like: glops of skin and hair loosely attached to a mess of blood and organs and bones on the pavement. It was how she'd expected to die, but not how she'd wanted to.
It took her all of two seconds to think all of this, and then she realized something else: she was going to hit the wall first. More importantly, it was a hotel wall with balconies. She had a chance.
Her hope vanished when she hit the wall. She heard five or six distinct, disgusting snaps before she felt them in her arms and ribs. The vision in one of her eyes shut down like an old TV screen when the side of her head hit the wall next.
Then she was falling again, broken. Her eye started working again ten feet later. Twenty feet later, she hit the balcony. She should have felt relieved that she still felt anything, but she'd landed all wrong. Lying on her back, she looked up at her lower right leg hanging over the balcony railing. A few strands of tendons or muscle or something else Casey couldn't identify connected it to the rest of her leg, flat on the ground like the rest of her. She saw the bone protruding from her disembodied knee, covered in blood. Her other leg had fared better, but on second look, she realized that, under no circumstances, should she be able to stare straight down at the bottom of her own foot. This leg had hit the railing as well, but at a different angle. The center of her calf was crushed and bloody, but her knee was bent the other way, and her shin rested on the top of her thigh, toes digging into her hip.
She'd been screaming the whole time, and didn't intend to stop now that she realized she was doing it. Dying might have been the better outcome this time. At least it would have only hurt for a second or less. Whatever happened now, she wanted it to happen fast. She wanted to black out and not wake up until her legs were fixed.
She had no such luck. The pain kept her awake.
Alyssa wished she had Bart's photographic memory. She would have captured Casey's face the moment she realized she was going to die and drawn it, modeled it, or sculpted it and stared at it for hours. It was a beautiful expression on a lovely, gentle face. Alyssa would remember it forever. She'd have to have Kayla teach her to draw so she could copy it from her mind. That was, if she didn't snuff Kayla first. She fully intended to do so, whether Bart wanted her to or not. It was only a matter of time.
Meanwhile, she occupied herself with other projects. Casey Shaw might have lived had Kiwi not blurted her name out on the beach half a week ago. The kid was a mental wreck, so killing her was pretty much an act of mercy. Besides, she was pretty—more so than Kayla or Kiwi.
Alyssa watched the girl fall, screaming. She hit the building, left a splotch of blood, and hit a balcony some thirty feet below. The screaming didn't stop. It only got worse. Alyssa cringed, but felt herself grow moist. She had plenty of time, so she returned the wrench to where she'd found it, put her gloves in her pockets, and headed down the stairs. How would she kill Casey when she got there? Normally, she'd choke her out, but there were so many other things she could do. She could toss the broken girl off the balcony and let her splatter on the road, or she could snap her neck. She could stop her head in, or slam her head against the railing till she died, then fuck her corpse.
She'd decide when she got there.
A few stories down, she started checking the rooms, using the master key she'd swiped from the front desk. She didn't hear the screams anymore, but the soundproof walls could be a factor. Eventually, she found a room with blood leaking in under the far door to the balcony. She brushed the curtains aside.
Casey was gone.
There was a splotch of blood on the balcony where she'd fallen, some bone fragments here and there, but nothing else. Had she managed to drag herself away? It was possible. Alyssa checked the ground. Indeed, there was a light trail of blood on the carpet, but it wasn't distinctive or frequent enough to be left from a girl dragging herself away.
Someone had carried her.
Alyssa didn't panic. This had happened several times before in her career. It was rare, but she always found both her victim and her victim's savior. First, she checked over the edge to make sure Casey hadn't thrown herself off and died. She hadn't. Carefully, Alyssa tracked her prey through the blood trail. It stopped halfway down the hall.
Alyssa stopped with it. She didn't rush down to the lobby—she would likely expose herself to a trap of some sort. She waited it out instead. She entered an empty room, changed clothes into something a bit more casual: a low-cut tank top and shorts, contrasting her black sweater and sweat pants. She stuffed them into two pillow cases and slung them over her shoulders. Then she headed for the lobby at a brisk walk, stopping occasionally to admire a piece of art on the walls, or to tie her shoes. She met a housekeeper halfway down and told her she'd heard screaming a couple stories up, then continued on her way.
The lobby was empty save for a few families checking out. Alyssa waited for them, then spoke to the man at the desk.
"I heard screaming about ten minutes ago around the twentieth floor or so. Did something happen?"
The man shook his head. "I heard it too. Called the police already, but my coworkers said there was nothing up there."
"No one came running out on fire or anything?"
"Nope. Those two families and you are the only people I've seen come through here."
"Huh. I hope everything's all right."
Alyssa thought for a moment. Any genre-savvy rescuer would run straight to the lobby to be around as many people as possible, and to call the police as soon as possible.
"In case you're wondering, no one's come in or left through any other door."
The man turned his computer monitor around, showing Alyssa a top-down map of the hotel. Timers displayed above each door, indicating none of them but the front one had been opened for hours. Alyssa's confidence waned. How in the world could Casey have escaped? She had to still be in the hotel, then. No matter. Alyssa could just wait in the lobby.
She waited for a long, long time.
Adrian Winters looked up from his work as Kitty came in the back door. He greeted her, started to turn around, and did a double-take.
"Who's that?" he said. Kitty carried a girl's broken form, wrapped in bloody sheets. She set the bundle down on her bed.
"How'd she die?"
Adrian stood and rushed over. He checked Casey's pulse at her neck to confirm it. "Why didn't you take her to a hospital?"
Kitty blanked out for just a moment, presumably checking the Internet to see what a hospital was. It was how she learned language beyond what he's programmed into her basic communications corelets.
"Sorry," she said. "Should I take her now?"
"Yes. I'll drive us there. If anyone asks, you flagged me down from the side of the road."
Adrian saved his work, threw a blanket over the half-finished cyborg beside his computer, and joined Kitty in the car. She stayed in the back seat with the injured girl, who was conscious and crying now.
"They're going to amputate her legs," said Kitty. "Can they give her legs like I have?"
Adrian shook his head. "I don't know how you managed to carry her here, but your legs only work because you're so light. I have—had—more disposable income for you than the hospital will for her."
Kitty nodded and absently petted Casey's hair. In the mirror, she looked almost like a mother tending to a hurt child. Adrian's mind quickly eliminated that comparison. Casey was a year older than Kitty.
In the emergency room, all eyes immediately shifted to them. Casey was fully conscious when Adrian carried her in with Kitty in tow.
"If the police show up, disappear," Adrian whispered to Kitty. She nodded. The hospital staff must have decided this particular emergency was more urgent than the several others in the emergency room, but apparently, they agreed. No one raised a complaint when two nurses rolled a stretcher out for Casey—especially not after the nurses unwrapped the sheets and everyone got to see Casey's legs. They stared at Kitty, pretty much ignoring Adrian, then disappeared through a pair of double doors.
"Kitty Grant?" said an old man in the corner of the room. "It's actually you. You're alive, aren't you?"
Kitty smiled at him, but didn't answer his question. "It's me," she said. Adrian wondered what corelets led her to avoid the sensitive response. He certainly hadn't programmed that. Then again, Kitty was learning and growing, and that, he had programmed. It didn't surprise him how human she acted now, even if, by many means, she was a computer. Two processors in her head, one using standard 48-core computer technology and the other using right-brained computing, worked together to create an artificial human so convincing that Adrian would think she was real if he hadn't made her himself, and if he didn't spend so much time with her that he noticed all the smallest flaws. He could iron those out. He still hadn't figured out the big one: why could he still not look at this Kitty Grant as the one he'd played tennis with just months ago? Right now, she was perfect. Everything he loved about Kitty was there. So what was missing?
"Adrian?" said Kitty. He looked up. The old man was looking at him. Kitty continued, "He drove me here. I found Casey hurt, but I didn't have a cell phone. So I waited for a car and he came along."
"You've died and come back," said the old man. "Can you tell me what heaven is like?"
Kitty thought for a moment. Adrian figured she was Googling a generic response from people who had actually died shortly, then came back. What she said surprised him.
"Telling you that would be like telling you how your favorite book ended before you finished it. At any rate, you won't be disappointed."
The man reached out and touched her neck. Adrian tensed. This would test both his craftsmanship and Kitty's acting.
"They tore your throat out," said the old man. "But I can feel you breathing. I can feel your heartbeat. You're warm. You're alive."
Adrian cracked a smile.
"You must be an angel."
Adrian stopped his entire train of thought, derailing the entire back half. That was it. That was the big flaw that prevented Kitty from being truly human. After ironing out the flaws, his artificial Kitty was perfect. Perfection was unattainable by any human—he had to give her flaws.
He stopped that train of thought as well. That meant he had to intentionally change Kitty for the worse.
Casey woke up periodically. Each time she did, she saw a different scene. First, there was the emergency room. Then there was the ceiling as it moved past her. Then a still, white, sanitized room. Then, after seeing nothing for what seemed like hours, even while unconscious, she saw her parents, Kitty Grant, and the young man she'd been with—she recognized him as Adrian Winters, who she remembered seeing at school during her freshman and sophomore year.
"Kitty?" she said.
"You just lost both your legs," said Kitty. "I'm more worried about you than whether I'm alive or not."
She was right, of course. Casey pictured the rest of her life in a wheelchair. If she had been at the top of a tall building right then and there, she would have willingly fallen to her death. Stuck on the ground, surrounded by cars and horns and lights forever—she'd rather die.
"We'll get you a wheelchair for now," said a doctor. "We can also get you fitted for prosthetics, but they're not free."
"That sucks," said Casey. "Wheelchair it is." She looked at her parents in turn. From their expressions, she guessed they'd seen the actual figures.
"We'll save up," said her mom. "We know how much you like to run."
"It's too much, isn't it?"
They both nodded.
At home, Casey lay on her bed, both arms in a cast, ribs wrapped, and her legs feeling strangely . . . well, gone. There was nothing she could do about that. Her parents had come clean with the cost of prosthetics. Their insurance wouldn't cover it, especially not after the accident that had sent her to the rooftops to begin with.
Casey wanted to die, but she couldn't move, and she didn't want to bite her tongue.
Her phone vibrated. Slowly, painfully, she moved her arm and took it. She had a message from Kitty Grant.
"I can help you," it said. "I'll come over tomorrow. Be happy."
The Summermount News E-edition
Kitty Grant: A Hero from Heaven
Seventeen-year-old Casey Shaw fell from the top of Bay Inn yesterday, June 1. A balcony on floor 20 saved her life, but also tore both her legs off. According to her, someone cut the zipline she was riding on.
"I'd been riding the ziplines for four years," Shaw said. "I've met people up there on the rooftops, but this is the first time anyone's tried to kill me."
As Shaw lay on the balcony, Kitty Grant opened the doors and carried her out.
"She tied sheets together and took me out a second-story window," said Shaw. "She told me that if someone was trying to kill me, they'd find me in the lobby and follow me home."
Grant then used the sheets to wrap Shaw's injuries, thereby saving her life. Shaw and Grant got a ride to the hospital from Adrian Winters, a 20-year-old computer technician on his way home from repairing a family computer.
"If the Summermount Slaughterer is ending lives," said Winters, "then Kitty is saving them. She's the hero we've all needed since serial killers first existed. Not to mention, I have my tennis partner back."
Grant has since contacted the Summermount News and requested we open donations to give Casey Shaw her legs back as prosthetics. She was a long-distance runner on the track team until now; Grant says she'd like to get her back on her feet in time for her first meet.
Obviously, Kitty Grant is alive and well, though we still have no word on how she came back to life. Shawn Bay, a local painter who spoke with Grant in the hospital, said, "She draws breath and her heart beats. Her skin is warm and her smile is bright. She truly came back from the dead. I think the Kitty Grant wandering Summermount now is an angel."
All she's missing is the flowing white robes and a harp. Though in an age of bikinis and twerking, a nice, modest hoodie and loose jeans are as close as we're going to get.
Fay Ryan, intern editor
Adrian Winters (9:17 a.m.)
You're getting better at this whole article writing thing, Fay.
Antonio Night (9:22 a.m.)
Can't Kitty just out And say how She came back?
James Bennett (9:30 a.m.)
Kitty Grant (9:33 a.m.)
And ruin the surprise? Isn't it more fun to speculate?
Fay Ryan (9:37 a.m.)
Honestly, I don't think it matters. She's here and she's doing good things. But it would be interesting to know how she came back, yes. Also, Adrian, thanks. Your English is getting better, too.
Tara Lei (9:45 a.m.)
Telll us kitty!!!
Harry Mead (9:45 a.m.)
yeah tell us, Kittty
Alpha Enhancement (9:46 a.m.)
Iiiiit's back! Try our VIAGRA SO STRONG it brought Kitty Grant BACK TO LIFE. If it can raise a girl from the dead, it can TURN YOUR TINY PECKER into a RAGING BONER, TIMES 1000!!!!!
Adrian Winters (9:48 a.m.)
You can tell it's not really a spambot because it doesn't link you to its "amazing product."
Jane Drier (9:53 a.m.)
Kitty, tell us what happened. How are you here?
Ken Cormack (9:54 a.m.)
Tell us, really.
Kitty Grant (10:00 a.m.)
A mad scientist stole my corpse from the morgue and replaced my brain with tiny computer chips. I'm actually . . . a cyborg!
Antonio Night (10:03 a.m.)
James Bennett (10:03 a.m.)
Tara Lei (10:06 a.m.)
HaHa!!!!2 No, really tell us cmon we wanna know.
Kitty Grant (10:08 a.m.)
I'm going to disappear for now. Casey needs your help. Her legs are more important than anything concerning me.
This chapter contains graphic description of a loli murder near the end. Skim if you can't into loli.
Fifty-thousand dollars per kill was a tempting proposition, considering Kayla was broke. There were 21 girls in the class she was targeting and two teachers serving as supervisors—23 girls total, exactly how much Alyssa would want. They'd be going to a water park, and she had three days to prepare. She could hide and take them all out one-by-one, and she would certainly do some of that, but a water park presented so many opportunities for unique kills. She had to scope it out, first of all.
"Dad, I wanna go to the water park. Do you have money?"
Kayla's dad stared at her. "You? Go to a water park?"
"Why? I thought you were a hydrophobe."
"I am. That’s Mom’s fault. I wanna stop being a hydrophobe."
Her dad shrugged. "Just make sure there's always a lifeguard around. I don't want you joining your mom just yet." He handed her the entry fee, plus a little extra—for snacks, she assumed.
The water park had seemed enormous to Kayla 10 years ago. When she walked in the front gates, it seemed like it had only grown. There were miles and miles of water slides and tubes and tunnels, at least ten pools of different sizes and shapes, three lazy rivers, a simulated rapids with small waterfalls that riders probably had to sign their lives away to try, at least five water-themed playscapes—and that was just what Kayla could see through the locker room doors. She stepped out into the park and shielded her eyes from the sun and a blast of water from a kid's squirt gun. She was drenched within seconds. The kid laughed and ran away, and Kayla kept walking. Wearing her bikini, she had no place to hide her sketchbook or pencil, so she'd left both at home. She'd have to commit her plans to memory.
Twenty-three girls meant 23 deaths. Ideally, they'd be automated and timed so that Kayla could film them, or at least catch them on hidden cameras. They couldn't cost money, either. All the kills had to be done with stuff laying around either Kayla's house or Bart's. Granted, stuff laying around Bart's house was probably a lot more suited to murder than the stuff in Kayla's. She'd even found what looked like a home slaughterhouse while exploring once.
She rode down a slide, then through a tunnel, and got an idea. It was dark in the tunnels, and the slides were engineered just right so the turns wouldn't throw their passengers off to fall a hundred feet to their deaths. Kayla could use that. The small pools at the bottom of each slide and tunnel would make great showcases.
The playscapes, now occupied by younger kids, would undoubtedly get used by the older girls. There were squirt guns mounted in several areas for water turret fights. The water could be replaced with gasoline, and then when the playscape was filled with the stuff, one match would burn everything, including the girls inside.
How could she use the pools? Maybe she could gather all the girls' corpses and toss them in one pool, but that seemed unnecessary. There had to be a way to use them well.
Kayla set pools in the back of her mind and moved on to the next bit of equipment. It took her about three hours to try out everything and come up with at least a small idea for each. She would sneak in the night before the girls arrived and set everything up, but then would come the hard part. Even in a large park, she'd have to keep everyone oblivious to their classmates' deaths till their turn came. That meant no screams outside the tunnels. That meant no dead bodies out in the open.
That was hard.
Bart watched as Kayla drifted around the house. She was looking for something, or some things. Occasionally, she'd pick something up, then put it back down. After a few minutes of this, Bart caught her shoulder.
"What are you doing?"
"You know how I was gonna kill a lot of people for Alyssa's birthday?"
"I need stuff to do it. I have a knife and a gun and some wire. I need more."
Bart pointed at a closet full of Alyssa's old murder weapons. "Use anything you need," he said. "The video camera is free as well."
Kayla opened the closet and groped around for a light switch. When she found it, she flicked it on. She smiled. She turned around.
"Bart, you kill for money, right?"
"And Alyssa kills for pleasure?"
"Did you marry her before or after you started killing people?"
"And she was a serial killer long before you started here in Summermount?"
Alyssa entered the room then, wearing a bath towel. "I killed all my classmates in fifth grade and blamed it on the teacher. After that, I killed people whenever I felt like it. Haven't been caught yet."
She reached past Kayla and took a blowtorch from the closet. "This was my favorite weapon for the longest time." She conked Kayla on the head with it. "You and Bart both use generic stuff like knives and guns. Be creative. C'mon."
"I'll show you creative," said Kayla. "Give me three days." She entered the closet and returned with a plastic coat hanger. "Also, how in the world did you kill someone with this?"
It was 8:30 a.m. when the girls arrived at the water park. Kayla watched them all step off the bus, some already in their swimsuits—mostly pretty little bikinis with a couple one-pieces mixed in. One soft-faced blond girl Kayla recognized as Amber Hawke wore a bikini bottom with a blue T-shirt. She'd probably take it off, but Kayla had seen girls swim in shirts before. It would make the kills at least a little more variable. She could use everything at her disposal to conduct the murders—even a shirt.
Kayla listed off their names in her mind and matched them to their faces. There were a few she didn't know, but she knew most of them. There was one who looked a lot like Irri Snowski: Micaiah Miller. Kayla hoped she'd get to her before her traps did. She'd never gotten to have sex with a living, conscious Irri. Raping her lookalike was the next best thing.
The two supervisors left the bus last, and the bus left. Kayla watched them closely. One was Jenny Mirth, a black-haired 27-year-old English teacher who worked in a strip club after school hours. The other was Kelsey Iron, a math teacher with a somewhat generic "beautiful Hollywood blond" look. She was 30, if Kayla remembered correctly. Both of them disappeared into the women's locker room after their students. Kayla made her move then. She left the bushes she'd been hiding behind and brushed some dirt off the lens of her video camera. It was small, but recorded at a surprisingly high resolution and a decent framerate. As Bart had instructed, she never touched the zoom slider. "Just move forward and backward," he'd said. "Zooming lowers the quality."
Kayla practiced now, moving backward and forward, keeping her focus on the open gate to the park. A gentle gust pulled some of her hair in front of her eyes. It was warm red now that she'd washed the dye out. She'd done it for two reasons: first, her emo look wouldn't fly if her plan was to work, and second, like Alyssa had said, it was actually prettier. She switched the camera off and readied her hunting knife, concealing it against her wrist. She approached the gates and turned to the young black woman in the ticket booth. She wore a white tank top over a red bikini top. She smiled when she saw Kayla.
"Hey there," she said. "Are you with the freshies?"
Kayla nodded and smiled back. This woman's reaction was already more favorable than it would have been had she come with her previous look.
"Are we allowed to have cameras?" Kayla asked her, setting hers on the counter. The woman shook her head.
"Sorry, no. I doubt you're going to record your classmates' swimsuits malfunctioning, but child protection laws will have their way."
"That's the reason? Jeez."
"Hey, can you charge it for me while I'm in, at least? It goes into an U3B port."
The woman cocked her head. "Which one is that?"
"It's circle-shaped with tiny prong holes out to each side."
The woman knelt and started searching her computer. She wouldn't find anything. At best, she'd find the PS/2 ports and mistake them for the U3B bullcrap Kayla had made up on the spot.
"Want me to help?"
"Yeah, that would be great."
"I'm allowed behind the counter at least, right?"
"Nope, but I'm the only employee here today. My manager doesn't have to know."
Good to know. Kayla stepped through the door to the side and knelt behind the woman. She flicked her blade out straight.
"What does U3B stand for, anyway?" the woman asked. She started to turn around.
Kayla rammed the knife into the side of her neck and slit her throat. "I have no idea.”
Kitty Grant stared at her hands, pondering now that she had the ability to ponder. She felt more aware of herself now. The clothes she'd been wearing for the past week were stained with Casey Shaw's blood and needed to be washed. Her hair was a mess of brown tangles pouring over her shoulders, and her heartbeat simulator was stuck at 130 beats per minute. She knew Adrian had her plugged in since last night, and she knew he was editing things, fine-tuning her, but she didn't always realize instantaneously what it was.
"Adrian," she said. "What are you doing to me?"
"Honestly? I'm ruining you. But I'm also perfecting you."
"I don't get it."
"I'm trying to make you as much like you should be as I possibly can. I want you to be Kitty Grant, not Kitty Grant's cyborg replacement."
"Just give me Kitty's memories. You have her brain. My brain."
She felt confused for the first time. Was the brain in Adrian's freezer hers, or some other girl's? How about the organs he also stored? Were they hers?
"I don't know how. I'm working on that. As soon as you have your memories back, I can send you back to your parents."
"I want to stay with you."
Adrian stopped typing. He looked at her with a smile. "I'd love to hear that from you again once you have your memories back. As it is, of course you do. As much as I try to make you like Kitty, the corelets I used are still based off my personality."
"I heard a song so beautiful yesterday I stopped and listened to it all afternoon."
"That's great." He sounded like he genuinely meant it. "It's great that you can appreciate music now. Remember last week, you asked me what the guitars were saying?"
Kitty smiled. "I want to hear it again and I want to cry."
Adrian stopped typing again. "What did you feel when you heard that song?"
"I felt like I did when I went to all the funerals. But also like when you hug me, and when I took Casey to the hospital. When I tried to quell it, I felt like there was something in my throat I could only let out through my eyes."
"Now I want to hear that song too."
"I don't know what I am. Am I a computer, or am I a human? I can't draw breath, I can't reproduce, I can't eat, and I can't get rid of waste. And yet I can think. I can feel. I've felt pain, and I've felt joy. I've felt fear and sadness, and I've felt love. Some things make me want to cry, and I can't cry."
"Like that song?"
"Like that song."
Kayla walked around the park in the dead woman's clothing. Her tank top had "STAFF" written across the back. It was close enough to Kayla's size that no one would ask questions, and she even had the woman's phone in her pocket, looted off her writhing, quivering body before she’d even died. She ran a last minute check on her cameras and traps, then headed for the locker room. The unsuspecting girls ran out into the park and Kayla squeezed in past them. She doubted any of them recognized her with her natural hair color and a complete lack of makeup. Only Kelsey, the math teacher, was still in there. She was completely naked, standing under a shower. Kayla paused at the door and prodded her rope trap with her toe. No doubt some of the girls had noticed the rope, but the trap was hidden in the ceiling. Kayla gave the rope one pull, readying the contraption. Then she strode forward and drew her knife in one hand. She readied the camera in the other and started recording.
"I'll be out in a moment," said Kelsey. "Be patient."
She didn't turn around. Kayla pulled out the camera's built-in tripod, set it in place, and focused it on Kelsey's beautiful naked form. She approached the woman and considered where to sink the knife first. When Kelsey finally looked over her shoulder, Kayla hurriedly jabbed it straight into the side of her forehead. Kelsey's eyes went wide. To confirm the kill, Kayla pulled it out and shoved it in again from a different angle. A quiet cry escaped Kelsey's lips, and then she collapsed. Kayla caught her and stabbed the blade deep into her belly, then her chest, and finally her head again. The blade made a satisfying schlick, familiar to Kayla by now. Kelsey's blood washed off in the falling water and spiraled down into the drain as her dying eyes stared up at Kayla. Kayla sat on her belly and absently stabbed Kelsey's neck and shoulders until she died, thin trails of blood following the tip of the blade out a few inches before splashing down against her soft, wet skin.
Any other day, Kayla would stick around and rape the corpse, but today, she had 22 more girls to destroy. Roughly half of them would die before she got to them, but she'd have videos of every death—or in the cases of the traps in the dark tunnels, before and after shots.
"Miss Mirth?" came a voice from the door. Kayla stood and spun. She rotated the camera to face the door, then waited for the trap to activate. A girl of about twelve or so walked in. She had golden brown hair, parted around her forehead and falling down to her middle back. She saw Kayla, and stepped right into the middle of the trap. The rope rushed in and tightened itself around her ankles, then yanked her up toward the ceiling. Wide brown eyes darted around the room before focusing on Kayla and the camera. Kelsey's corpse was likely out of her line of sight.
The girl opened her mouth to scream. Kayla shot forward and buried the blade in the girl's tanned throat. She sputtered out a garbled word and struggled against the rope. It held tight. Kayla pulled the knife up. She carved a bloody line down the girl's torso, biting into her sternum, then sinking deep into her soft belly. Her frilly top fell off with that, revealing two perky B-cups quivering in pain and fear. Kayla fondled them with her free hand and continued carving. Blood flowed down the girl's body, soaking Kayla's hands. She reached the end and yanked the knife out of the girl's tiny cunt. By now, she was dead, staring lifelessly into the lens. Kayla stood aside and let the camera get a good look at the young victim. The moment Kayla took her hand off the girl's belly, her guts fell out in a glop, hanging from her like half-coiled bloody ropes. Kayla wished she had time to stay and masturbate, but time was short. She had two down and 21 to go. She locked the door from the inside using the dead employee's keys, collected her camera, left the locker room through the entrance, and locked that as well. She closed and locked the gate, then locked the men's locker room. Now, because the park was walled—presumably to prevent people from peeping on half-naked kids—Kayla had the only way out dangling from her neck.
Only she would leave this park alive.
Kayla's Massacre: Part 2
Rachel Daemus ran straight from the locker room to the tunnel slides at the far end of the water park, still soaking wet from her shower. Her green bikini was barely tied, but she could fix it later. For now, she grabbed a yellow tube from beside the pool where the tunnel emptied out. On the way up, Diamond Johnson and Molly Chase caught up with her.
"You were really looking forward to this, weren't you?" Molly said.
"Last field trip we'll ever get," said Rachel. "I wanna make it worth it."
Molly was 14, pale and blond, with a round, cheery face and blue eyes. She wore a high-cut blue one-piece that revealed most of her back, but covered a busty chest. Diamond, contrarily, was a bit chubby, tanned and dark-haired, and wore a white and black striped bikini just a few sizes too small for her.
As they ascended the long flight of steps up to the tunnel, Olivia Kensington joined them, a brown-haired girl a year older than the rest of them. "Hey," she said. "Diamond, are you pregnant?"
Rachel felt the tube grow a bit heavier when Diamond dropped her end.
"No," she said in the most obvious lie Rachel had ever heard.
"Was it Tommy or Simon?" Rachel asked.
"I'm not pregnant," Diamond said, a little more convincing this time. "I'm just fat."
"Your face is too thin to be fat," said Molly. "You really are pregnant, aren't you?"
Silence. Eventually, Diamond admitted it.
"It was Simon," she said. "He was going away to college in a week, so I let him cum inside every day till he left."
"He's going across the country, dude," said Rachel. "You know he's not gonna help you pay for anything, don't you?"
"He'll help," said Diamond. "You don't know him."
"Dude who knocked up my sister went to the UK three years ago," said Molly. "She never heard from him since."
They arrived at the top of the slide. There was no employee on duty, but the water was running, inviting them down into the darkness. Rachel eyed each of her companions
and plopped the four-person tube down in the water. Ideally, one of them would be a hot guy. Going on a two-minute slide down a dark tunnel was the perfect time to break the ice in a sexual relationship, and it was also one of her greatest fantasies. She'd have to come back here next summer. She'd hopefully have a boyfriend by then. A steady one, anyway.
The girls took their places in the tube and stacked their feet in the middle. Rachel pushed her hair out of her eyes and squinted to make out the first curve.
"So Rachel," said Olivia, "why's your hair blond today?"
Rachel pushed them off and they disappeared into the tunnel. Now she spoke to a disembodied voice.
"I was bored with blue. Plus, I change it every month."
"Dude, I think your preference in hair color is tied to your period."
"I just like variation."
"That's probably why you've never gone steady."
"Yeah. You gotta be patient.
Rachel opened her mouth, intrigued. Maybe it really was her serial boredom that caused all her relationship troubles. Maybe not. There was only one way to find out.
They sped up as the slide grew steeper, nearing the bottom. Rachel braced herself for the impact when they hit the water.
Something sharp snapped against her breasts and forehead. She opened her mouth to yelp, only to find that made the pain worse. Straight ahead of her, she stared in horror as Olivia's eyes widened, a streak of red appeared across her shoulders, and then everything from her clavicles up lifted off the rest of her body. Rachel felt her own body coming apart. It hurt, but it felt stranger than anything. She felt her field of view widening until her eyes worked as two separate cameras, seeing two different images. And then she felt nothing.
The cameras caught it all. The moment the first girl—Diamond—hit the wire, they started snapping pictures in addition to the video they were already recording. They recorded the shock on the girls' faces as the piano-pattern wire cut them. Rachel's body fell into three piece as a wire caught her breasts and one hit her straight in the center of the face. They carried through easily, and the blond girl's corpse began its gory glide down the rest of the tunnel.
Molly had been leaned back when she hit the wire. It caught her under the chin and tore through her head diagonally, essentially cutting her face off. She didn't hit a vertical wire, so that cut was the only one on her. Her face fell down into her lap.
Olivia hit next. She too only caught one wire, and it hooked into her just above her breasts and sliced her in two, leaving her bloody head and shoulders hanging on the wire like a grotesque, upside-down portrait. Unfortunately for her, she survived the longest of her friends with no way to scream.
Diamond hit last. She had maybe five milliseconds to react to her friends' sudden deaths. She failed to do so, as any human would. She'd been sitting up straight, taller than the rest. The wire easily swiped through her lower ribs. A vertical wire seared through the side of her face, but stopped after passing through her brain and half her throat. Even as Olivia's top part fell from the wire, Diamond's stayed, dead, dripping her upper innards into the running water. Her neck was cut in half, and it hung her head by a few muscles and her windpipe. She stared lifelessly into her breasts, still inches from her eyes.
Moments after the pictures were all snapped and as the bodies settled to float in the pool, a timer activated and flung a heavy blue tarp down from the top of the tunnel's exit. It covered the pool and the gory mess within, even as the cameras continued taking pictures and video. Four teenage girls' bodies floated there, all of them in pieces. Diamond's top half was still missing. Only her navel and down had made it to the pool. It floated there, leaking blood and intestines into the reddening water. On close observation, anyone watching the videos afterward would see that she had indeed been pregnant. The thing in her belly leaked out along with everything else. It wasn't a living thing yet, and now never would be. It and its mother would be passed around the deep web for generous sums.
Two halves of Rachel's head and shoulders touched the side of the pool. Most of her brain had already fallen out, as had some of the fat in her breasts. Olivia's eyes died as the camera watched them after a couple horrified blinks. Molly, probably the fastest dead, was also probably the most intact. Morgue workers could stitch her face back on for an open-casket funeral, but for now, it floated several feet from her body, which still lay in the tube, bloody brain staring up at the tarp and cameras.
Not too far away, Kayla heard the tarp unfold as the trap she'd intended for last activated before any of the rest. She smiled to herself and imagined the mess now floating in the pool. She could go and take a peek, but reminded herself she had to budget her time. She picked out a random girl—a black-haired, pale, blue-eyed girl with a soft face in a beautiful white bikini with a long sarong. Her name was May, and she was only 13. Kayla discreetly followed her. She appeared to be a loner, strangely enough. That made things easy.
Kayla fingered the knife against her wrist as the girl got further and further from prying eyes. Where was she going? She turned a few corners and looked up at the slides and playscapes and down at the pools, but didn't commit to anything. She was far away from anyone else, though, so Kayla made her move. She set up her camera.
"Hey," she said. May looked over her shoulder and kept walking.
Kayla jogged to catch up with her. May walked faster, then slower, then stopped and turned to Kayla.
"You work here, right?"
"Has anything weird been going on recently?"
"No slides need repairs?"
"As far as I know, no."
"No storm coming in?"
"Forecast says it's clear all this week."
May let out a long breath. Kayla raised an eyebrow. "Why? Was something supposed to happen?"
"Hopefully not. I had a really bad feeling on the ride here. I even told my sister to stay home because of it. So nothing's gonna happen?"
Kayla hoped a bad premonition was the extent of this girl's seemingly psychic abilities. "Anything can happen," she said. "It's just a matter of likelihood. For example, by wandering off alone, you increase your odds of dying by the Slaughterer."
May looked around. "But you're here."
"Yeah," Kayla agreed. She stepped in close to May and put a hand on her shoulder. "But don't assume you're safe with me."
Kayla pulled the knife through May's back. The tip came out between her breasts and cut her bikini string. May looked down at the blade, then back up at Kayla. She looked surprised more than anything.
"Take a guess," said Kayla. She ruffled May's pretty hair, yanked her knife out, and stabbed it into the back of her neck. She went rigid, then limp in Kayla's arms. Kayla held up her body with an arm around her waist. Her head lived on. Her mouth moved, forming words, and her eyes blinked.
"Speak up," said Kayla. "I can't hear you."
She kept stabbing May's back in a continuous motion. She didn't have the strength to bring the blade all the way through like she had the first time, but the twitches in May's body and the feeling of her blood pouring all over Kayla's arms and hands made it worth it. She tried to read the dying girl's lips. She recognized a few words, and when May repeated them, Kayla read every word.
"My Father in heaven, I'll see you soon. I'm coming home. I'm coming home."
Kayla stopped everything. May crumpled to the ground and lay still, eyes and mouth still open. Blood from the puddle she lay in stained her skin and hair and sarong. Kayla looked down at her and felt something she hadn't felt for a long time: fear.
It stood to reason. May had spoken, albeit non-verbally, her last words. They scared Kayla. Why? People prayed as they died all the time. It made no sense, but fear apparently didn't need sense. Kayla didn’t really care about religion, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of any gods or devils.
She shook her head. It didn't clear up, but she got back to business anyway. She grabbed May's hair and pulled her bloody corpse to a trash can. She lifted and dumped the dead girl into the empty bag. She had to stomp on the corpse, snapping a few bones, to make it fit. Then she pulled it up and tied it shut, leaving it in the can. She took a water gun from a nearby playscape and hosed down the blood—there was more of it than Kayla thought at first. It washed into a few drains not too far away, and after a few minutes, the area looked absolutely murder-free. Kayla set her phone aside, then hosed herself down. She took her phone back and headed back to the main area, where more girls had inevitably already died.
That strange fear pricked at the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it.
Casey Shaw was lying on her bed with classical music blaring through her headphones. She never listened to classical, but she felt like today should be an
exception. There were stumps where her legs used to be and one arm was wrapped tightly in a cast. The other was free with a restrictive brace on it. She had to ask her parents for help whenever she wanted anything—so far, that had been music and three books. It had been like this for a day. The thought of having her parents help her take a shit repulsed her so much that she hadn't eaten or drank anything for an entire day. Maybe she could die of thirst. It might be torture, but it couldn't be much worse than a lifetime of lying in bed.
"My life is shit," she said to the air. She couldn't even hear herself over her music. She reached out with her only mobile hand as far as the brace would let her and opened her hand toward the ceiling. "Hey, God?" she said. "Buddha? Allah? Supreme Being? Flying Spaghetti Monster?" She paused, then said, "Will one of you please kill me?"
Why? Because you're afraid to do it yourself? Suck it up and cut your own throat, you pussy.
Casey thought this herself, but she imagined that's what one of the gods would have said.
Her door opened. Casey looked up, expecting one of her parents. Kitty Grant stood there instead. She had a heavy-looking bag hanging off her shoulder. One look at Casey and she said:
"I thought I told you to be happy."
"Hey, how about I cut your legs off and break your arms and tell you to be happy."
"Don't be so angry. Here, I brought you something."
Kitty shrugged the bag off her shoulder and set it on Casey's bed. She unzipped it and pulled something out.
"Close your eyes," she said. "When you open them, you'll be happy."
Casey closed her eyes. Why had she lashed out at Kitty, who had not only saved her life, but had also come to visit her in her own home? She could be soaking up all the glory she could ever want right now.
"Whoops," said Kitty. Casey heard a clang, but didn't open her eyes. "There we go . . . one second here . . . gotta fit this on that thing there. . . ."
Casey felt something plastic-ish encase her left leg stump. She poked her headphones off with her shoulder and gave Kitty her full attention.
"What are you doing down there?"
"Keep your eyes shut."
"I am. What are you doing?"
"No spoilers. All right, open your eyes."
Casey opened her eyes. There were things attached to her legs now. She'd call them prosthetic legs, but they looked more like misshaped crowbars.
"Stand up," said Kitty. She pulled Casey up to the side of her bed by her shoulders. Casey leaned forward and stood on her new legs. Immediately, she felt her balance fail. Kitty caught her before she fell forward.
"It'll take a bit to get used to," Kitty said. "Take your time."
Casey tried again, leaning on Kitty for support. She took a wobbly step. It felt so strange to walk without any feeling below her thighs, but it wasn't impossible. She took another step. Then another, more confident this time. Kitty slowly let go of her, and she found herself standing in the middle of her room, stepping around in slow circles. It was such a small thing to be excited over, but she was actually walking. She looked at Kitty.
"Kitty, I don't even know what to say. This is amazing. Thank you so much. Thank you a million times."
Suddenly, Casey felt even worse for what she'd said at first. If Kitty lost her legs and broke her arms, she'd probably keep on smiling. And here she was, only happy after she could walk again. It dawned on her that Kitty was a year younger than her, but at least twenty years more mature.
"Do you think I could run in these?" Casey said.
"Yes," Kitty said simply. "They're designed for running in the first place."
"Would you be creeped out if I told you I loved you?"
"Nope," said Kitty. "I assume you mean platonically?"
Casey bounced on her new feet. She smiled at Kitty. "I have no idea what that means."
Kayla's Massacre: Part 3
Amy Lawson had been working out every day for the past three months to achieve a body worthy of showing off in her bikini. As it turned out, Chika Lee had a more hourglass-like figure, Reina Peters had a better butt, and Arianne Ray had better legs. She'd thrown off her shirt, ready to show off to her friends, but they'd also disrobed to reveal better bodies than her.
It was disappointing, but she didn't dwell on it. She was here to have fun, and three months of exercise left her feeling great, both physically and mentally.
"Where's Rachel and them?" Chika said. She had blond hair bleached nearly white by the sun. Looking at it directly was painful at some angles.
"Dunno," said Amy. "They said they were gonna try out one of the tunnels. You guys wanna do the tunnels too?"
"Sure," said Reina. Arianne and Chika nodded their consent, and Amy led them away from the locker rooms and toward the tunnels. They passed a single employee on their way, a redhead somewhere in her mid-teens. She greeted them and turned them away from an out-of-order tunnel with a blue tarp over it and its exit pool. They grabbed a four-person tube from three pools down and carried that to the top of the stairs.
"It's hot," said Arianne, tugging at her shirt.
"Then take off your shirt," said Reina."
"I don't have anything under it."
"You have no tits?" Chika said. "Still?" She fondled her own. Arianne elbowed her.
"No, I just don't have a swimsuit underneath."
"Honestly?" said Amy. "Who gives a fuck? Actually, you know what?"
At the top of the stairs, just outside the tunnel, Amy let go of the tube and threw her bikini top aside.
"Let's do it naked," she said. "There's no one here but us."
Chika looked around. She peeked over the railing and looked down over the enormous water park. Indeed, it seemed relatively empty. She pulled off her top as well and stepped out of her bottom. She cast her sarong aside as well.
"We'll have to remember to come back and get our stuff," said Reina as she stepped out of her shorts. Three naked girls turned to Arianne, who blushed. She slowly removed her shirt, then her bikini bottom. She covered herself with her arms for a moment before seeing the rest of them relaxed, and calmed down herself.
"C'mon," said Amy. "In the tube."
"This is kinda risqué," said Reina. "I like it."
"You're an exhibitionist," said Chika. She added, "Well, so am I, I guess."
"It's only fun because it's risky," said Amy. "If everyone here was naked, we'd probably find some other way to make it more sexual."
"Probably," Chika agreed. The four of them stepped into the tube and Amy pushed them off. Almost instantly, it was pitch black save for spots of light dribbling in through tiny holes in the top of the tunnel. Amy gripped the handles of the tube, then swung her feet out, accidentally clipping someone's head in the process.
"Ouch," said Reina. "What are you doing?"
"Surfing," said Amy. She tried unsuccessfully to balance on her feet, and ended up just holding on to the tube for support. "Guys," she said. "Let's get out and climb back up."
"How?" said Reina.
"The sides of the tunnel are dry. Use your hands as brakes and let the tube go without us."
Amy brought a hand up and tested it against the dry side of the tunnel. She released the tube and balanced successfully for a moment before catching the wall with her other hand. She slid to a stop. Her hands burned a bit, but it wasn't too bad.
"Everyone here?" Amy said.
"Here," said Reina.
"And me," said Arianne.
From further down the tunnel, Chika called, "I'm down here!"
"Climb!" Amy called down. "Meet us at the top!"
Amy began her climb. Several feet behind her, she heard Reina and Arianne coming as well.
"Your cunt is in my face," said Reina.
"Your face is in my cunt," said Arianne. "Be patient."
A minute of climbing passed. Then five.
"This is taking forever," said Chika, who had caught up by now. "Should we just go down?"
"If you want," said Amy. "I'll meet you at the bottom."
"All right," said Chika, and then she was gone.
"I'm gonna go down too," said Reina. Amy heard her slide away.
"I'm coming all the way up," said Arianne. "We've gotta be almost there."
Chika heard the noise further down the slide, but couldn't quite tell what it was. It sounded like machinery, so she guessed it was something pumping water into the slide. She kept sliding. Behind her, she heard Reina attempt to stand and surf like Amy had.
"We were probably, like, ten feet from the top," she said.
"Maybe," said Chika. "But it's more fun to go down a slide than up it."
"You wanna go on one of those waterfall-climbing things next?"
The machinery sounds drew closer and closer until Chika felt her toes hit something. All her momentum stopped, and then the pain shot up her legs. She screamed. Something was destroying her feet, like two heavy gears grinding her between them. She tried to pull herself away, but the machine had too tight a grip on her.
"Climb!" she screamed to Reina, but it was too late. Reina slid into the thing as well, face first. Chika heard a loud, wet pop as the machine crushed Reina's head. She felt blood and a bit of brain splatter against her shins, and then her shins disappeared into the machine. She kept screaming, hoping someone would hear her and turn the machine off. It was useless. She knew she was going to die, and yet she fought it. She tried harder and harder to pull herself up, but failed no matter what she did. The machine was eating her thighs now. She gave one last, pathetic scream, and then she passed out from the pain.
Blood joined the water flowing down the rest of the slide. A tarp activated preemptively and blocked the gory mess coming down the slide from prying eyes. Glops of gore and ground meat followed the blood down and soiled the exit pool with a splash. Three video cameras caught it all, and one on the meat grinder, configured to see through the dark, recorded Chika and Reina's corpses being slowly converted to raw meat. Chika had died long before the grinder ate her heart, or even arrived at her torso. Reina had died immediately. Her ground brain was the first thing in the exit pool. Inside the grinder, each section of the girls was smashed to bits in a series of spinning blades and grinders. The ground bits dripped to the bottom, where they slid down a pipe and were dumped back into the tunnel to finish their journey. They joined several glops of unrecognizable red and pink gore in the pool below.
Kayla saw a sandy-haired girl emerge from the top of the slide, completely naked. She approached the girl while her back was turned. She was leaning over the tunnel entry, calling for a friend. Kayla set up her video camera and readied her knife. She took a few steps forward, grabbed the girl's hair, and slit her throat. She sputtered up blood and her hands flew up to her neck. Kayla shoved them down, grabbed the girl's head in her arms, and gave it a twist. Her neck gave a wet crack as it snapped. Kayla dragged her off to the side of the tunnel.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," said another girl's voice from the tunnel. "Just because you can climb fast doesn't mean I can."
Kayla set to work. She sawed at the dying girl's neck with her knife. She severed a jugular and blood sprayed out in her face.
"Almost there, Amy. Almost there."
Kayla pulled and the dead girl's head—Amy's head—came off. Kayla smiled to herself, kissed the dead girl's lips, and stood off to the side. She waited. The second girl emerged from the slide and saw the video camera first. She didn't even see the knife. Kayla plunged it into the back of her neck and pulled hard to the side. Before the second girl could get her hands up to her neck, Kayla turned the knife around and cut through the other side of her neck, decapitating her in what she wanted to believe was record time. Not that anyone but her or Bart or Alyssa would measure that.
Decapitating her so fast meant her head would still be alive. Kayla let the girl's body drop to the ground and turned her head to face her.
"Hey," she said. "Turns out the Summermount Slaughter is a girl. Imagine that."
The girl's head took a break from frantically looking around to focus her eyes on Kayla.
"If you'd gone down, you'd have had a much more painful death. Good thing you came to me. Oh, hey, look."
Kayla turned the girl's head to look at Amy's corpse. Her head lay in a pile of discarded swimwear, soaking it all with blood.
"Really, the only way you'd have survived is by staying home today. Unfair, that, but that's just the way it goes."
The second girl's head died a few seconds later. Kayla tossed it into the swimsuit pile, washed herself off in the tunnel water, collected her camera, and headed back down the stairs. At the bottom, she pulled a chain out and blocked access to the tunnel. She headed for the exit pool and peeked under the tarp. The last few bits of the two less fortunate girls were coming down the tunnel. Most of them floated in the pool already, illuminated by the flashes of the cameras as they took pictures. She set the tarp back down and began wandering again.
Twelve to go.
Kayla's Massacre: Part 4
Kayla intended her trip to the bathroom to be a short break from her massacre, but she happened upon two girls in there: one, a black-haired, dark-skinned girl in a white one-piece, maybe 13 years old, had a camera in hand. She was taking pictures of a tiny orange-haired girl in a pink bikini much too sexy for her age—somewhere around 10. The orange-haired girl was also bound and gagged, wide-eyed and writhing on the floor. She was soaking wet from head to toe and looked scared out of her mind.
"Calm down," said the dark girl—Kayla noted that her feature were closer to Native American than African. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just look sexy and . . ." The camera flashed. "Yeah, perfect! God, you're hot. I see why your dad pimps you out now."
The bound girl was crying. Kayla felt something in her heart clench, but the feeling in her vagina overpowered it. She'd role-played this very thing with Vivi several times before the pretty slut’s death—and here were two hot little things doing it for real, apparently. She quietly set up her camera.
"Hot damn, Ivy. Hot damn. Do you have any idea how much I want you right now? Staying behind the camera takes discipline. Discipline!"
Kayla smiled at the scene. Neither girl saw her in the door, so she continued to watch in silence.
"Yeah, your gallery is going straight to my favorites. I'll masturbate to you every night and get my uncle to rent you so I can fuck you too."
Kayla already liked the Indian girl. She'd still kill her, but she'd do it more passionately.
"I'm pretty sure you'd rather I fuck you than some nasty old rat. Do other girls rent you sometimes?"
The bound girl—Ivy—nodded in response.
"Do you like them better than the men?"
Ivy shook her head.
"Really? Don't the men hurt you with their cocks? You're pretty damn tight."
Ivy nodded. The dark girl touched herself between her legs, sliding her swimsuit aside for easier access. She was soaked. She pulled her shoulder straps down as well and let her top come down to just below her breasts—decently sized for her age. She set her camera aside and got on her knees. She crawled over to Ivy and kissed her neck.
"I want to keep you all to myself. I'd lock you in my basement and fuck you every day. If you tried to escape, I'd torture you. I'd whip your pretty little back. I'd burn your little titties. I'd break your cute little toes. Then I'd charge horny old men to come down and fuck you. They could hurt you too, but they couldn't kill you. Only I could kill you. And when I did . . . jeez. I'd make it the best orgasm of my life, and then I'd cut your corpse up and I'd take the pieces and . . . maybe sell them. No, never. I’d cook them and eat them one piece a day so I could savor your delicious body as long as possible."
Ivy had stopped moving halfway through the monologue. She was completely pale.
"But I can't do that," said the dark girl. "I'll fuck you now and we'll just go from there."
And so Kayla watched as the dark-skinned girl stripped naked, stripped her bound victim naked, and fucked her like an animal, wild and wet. She didn't show any mercy. She held Ivy down and slammed her hips down against her. When she hugged her, she left red marks on Ivy's back. When she kissed her, she bit her as well. Kayla could feel each of the dark girl's thrusts in her own cunt, the way they made Ivy's body fold and shake. She screamed like an animal, too, letting her orgasms and cunt juices fly like sex-borne eagles. Her voice was completely insane, unbridled. Kayla was masturbating herself before she knew it. The black-haired girl dug her nails into Ivy's sides and tore her open down her ribs and belly. She stopped at the pale girl's hips, but grabbed her midsection and kept scissoring her. She did it so hard and so desperately that Kayla wondered just how long she'd wanted to do this.
Finally, the Indian girl screamed and slammed her cunt into Ivy's face. Ivy's head snapped back and fluids gushed from the brown girl's pussy, sliding off Ivy's face and contributing to the puddle of fluids on the ground that now reached Kayla's bare feet. As Kayla came, she couldn't contain a moan. Instantly, the brown girl looked up and went silent. Kayla sighed and stepped further into the bathroom. Each step made a splash in what Kayla couldn't tell was vaginal fluids, sweat, or water.
"Hi," she said, a bit sheepishly. "I'm Kayla. I was watching and listening the whole time."
Ivy's face brightened. The brown girl looked like she was preparing to run. Kayla didn't give her the chance. She took the naked, wet young girl in her arms, and kissed her hard on the lips. The girl didn't even hesitate to return both the hug and the kiss. She had to be incredibly horny. Kayla broke the kiss for a moment and leaned in to her ear.
"What's your name," she whispered.
"I'm Taylor. I prefer Tay."
"Literally a pleasure to meet you. I have a request."
"Help me slaughter Ivy."
Tay kissed Kayla's lips and took the offensive. She pushed Kayla against the far wall, squeezing her hard enough that it hurt. Kayla loved it. She shoved her knee up into Tay's crotch and sloshed it back and forth there. She glanced over at Ivy, who was watching with an expression somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment. Her expression said, "What the fuck is going on here?" but probably in less vulgar words, given her innocent face.
Tay licked Kayla's ear. "I fucking love you."
Kayla moaned. "You don't even know me."
"I don't give a fuck. Let's do it."
Kayla took back the initiative. With a horny battle cry, she shoved Tay down to the wet floor and bit hard into her neck. Tay screamed in pain and pleasure. She dug her nails into Kayla's back and ripped her skin to shreds. Kayla retaliated by squeezing the girl's neck, making out with her at the same time. Tay flipped her over and pinned her arms down by her sides. For a moment, she stared down at Kayla, meeting her eyes with a look so lustful that Kayla figured it was the absolute apex of sexual depravity. Tay wasn't even human. She was a sex monster, like Alyssa in a 13-year-old's body. The difference was, Kayla was on equal grounds with Tay, whereas Alyssa was several times stronger than her.
Then Tay dug in. She kissed Kayla hard, pushing her head painfully against the floor, then went for her throat, licking and biting and kissing it. She sucked on Kayla's nipples with the ferocity of a baby who hadn't had a drink in weeks and was somehow still alive. She bit down. Kayla screamed and came at once. Tay's leg rammed itself up into her cunt.
Kayla reached around Tay's neck and held on. Her hands slid up into the girl's silky hair as she moved down to Kayla's navel. She played there with her tongue for a good minute, then turned around and straddled Kayla's face. Kayla didn't even wait for her partner to start. She dug into Tay's dripping pussy, and Tay dug into hers. She had no idea where her clothes had gone. She didn't care now. She wrapped her arms and legs around Tay's young, tight body and ate her out. She sucked the girl's juices into her mouth, spat them back, slurped them in, then swallowed them. They didn't taste good per se, but they tasted sexy. Kayla drank them up as she felt Tay drinking hers. She came twice and made sure to squirt as much as she could into Tay's adorable face. Likewise, Tay squirted into hers. Kayla put her fist up her partner's pussy and spread her fingers wide. She relished Tay's resulting moans and screams and shoved her fist deep in until she found the brown girl's womb. Finally, Tay screamed, came hard, nearly crushing Kayla's arm with her convulsions, and collapsed, mouth still firmly pressed into Kayla's cunt. Her breasts squished against Kayla's belly. Kayla came one last time from that sensation alone, then pulled her arm out.
"You're pretty good," said Kayla, breathing hard. "Almost had me there."
She flipped Tay over and lay beside her, hugging her like lovers after sex. Tay gave her a light kiss.
"Too bad we didn't record that," said Tay.
"I did," said Kayla. "I'll watch that every day for the rest of my life."
"Mmph," said Ivy. Kayla hadn't forgotten about her. She helped Tay up and turned to the bound girl, who was blushing hard, but still looked thoroughly confused.
"Enjoy the show?" Kayla said. Ivy hesitated, closed her eyes, blushed harder, and eventually nodded.
"She's not even gay," said Tay. "We fucked her orientation around."
Kayla lowered her voice to a whisper again. "Do you have a knife?"
"Good. I'll take her lower half. You take her top half. Make sure to keep everything in the camera's eye. Kill her as fast or slow as you'd like. I'll start with her toes. Ready?"
Tay knelt and retrieved a knife from her camera bag. Kayla also saw a pistol in there. Ivy saw Tay's knife, then Kayla's, and started moving again, struggling to free herself. She failed. Kayla and Tay mounted her, back to back, their asses planted on her hips and belly respectively. Kayla cut her bikini bottom off and put the hilt of the knife up her tiny, tight cunt first. She screamed through her gag, which was quite effective.
Kayla went to work then. She started with Ivy's big toe. It came off easier than she expected, but the resulting pool of blood was about the size she anticipated. Ivy was screaming and jerking around now. Tay apparently hadn't killed her yet. Kayla proceeded to remove her next toe, and then her next. She removed all five toes on one foot before Ivy's struggles peaked, then completely stopped. Her screams faded just as quickly. Kayla looked over her shoulder. Tay was holding Ivy's lungs in her hands. Her chest was split open down the middle and her rib cage was parted like an open door. Ivy's eyes were completely wild, but in the moment Tay stabbed her directly in the heart, she died. Kayla turned back to her half of the girl and removed the rest of her toes. Then she sawed off each foot at the ankle. She broke Ivy's knees, then twisted them around so her calves faced the ceiling. She cut the muscles out, maximizing the blood spilled. Each muscle came off with a squishy, wet tearing sound. Kayla let them both lay on the floor where they'd fallen and removed Ivy's legs from the knees down.
She dismounted the girl's hips and turned around. She stuck her knife into Ivy's upper thigh and carved a line down. She repeated this four times around the leg, then made the required incisions and removed Ivy's thigh muscles, leaving her with only her femurs. Kayla crawled to the side to see Tay's progress. She had Ivy's body completely opened up, with her guts and organs, and even her ribs, tossed everywhere around the floor. Her head was detached. It watched its body's destruction from a few feet away. Tay turned and kissed Kayla, then dismounted her victim.
"I've always wanted to do that," she said. "Thanks for helping."
"So who are you, anyway?"
"I'm Kayla Connelly. The Summermount Slaughterer."
"That's fucking sexy. Can I help?"
Miles away from the bloody carnage, Kitty Grant stared at what was either her own brain or the brain of a girl she just so happened to share names and faces and bodies with. Adrian had it out of the freezer and was thawing it presently.
"So what are you doing?" she asked him. She rested her elbows on his shoulders as he typed away at his computer.
"I can't figure out how to take your memories from that brain. But even if I can't figure it out, you probably can. Can you get yourself set for a transplant?"
Kitty removed the back of her head, popped off some securing wires, and sat upright in a chair beside Adrian's computer. She faced away from him and let him work. She didn't feel anything he did back there. Her nerves, both natural and artificial, stayed with the natural bits of her body.
"I'm putting your brain in your head and your processors in your chest. I'm hooking them up to your brain. Tell me if you notice any difference in ten seconds."
Ten seconds later, Kitty felt something else in her mind—or a bit out of it? She wasn't sure. She knew something else was connected, but she couldn't access it. It felt too distant, too fuzzy. Too cold. She relayed this information to Adrian.
"How about now?"
Nothing. Adrian was silent for a moment, and then Kitty felt her skeleton pushed back into her body and the back of her head reattached.
"I'm actually leaving the rest to you. I'm completely stumped."
"At least I feel something there."
"Yeah, that's progress. Problem is, I didn't expect it to even work. It's doing more now than I anticipated, and now I don't know what to do. It's entirely possible your memories died when your brain did."
Kitty stood. "I'll find them. You can work on the other girl. I can do this on my own."
"Show me what you can do," said Adrian with a smile. He pulled the cover off his second cyborg, a blond-haired girl with a distinct, clean cut through her neck and a lack of skin on the rest of her body. Adrian had started fixing her, making her corelets, and then Casey's legs needed replacing and he was suddenly out of expendable money. He needed a gigantic sum to finish Irri Snowski. He'd had the materials to rebuild Kitty on-hand, but only after starting another cyborg did he realize how costly the materials were that made up his artificial friend. He wanted to finish Irri, sure. He just wasn't willing to put her in a body that couldn't even move.
"I could let her have some of my parts," said Kitty as she observed the corpse.
"She needs skin, mostly," said Adrian. "You didn't need a ton of that, but the right stuff costs a ton. Plus, I need another right-brain processor and a lot more metals. That's not to mention how much the cameras for her eyes would cost."
"How much were mine?"
"About three-thousand each. Your left eye is actually slightly weaker. It's a year older."
Kitty nodded. "So you just need money?"
"I just need money," Adrian confirmed. "I have her corelets mostly written, but I'm not sure how realistic she'll be. I didn't know her personally. I'll do some tweaking if people get suspicious. Meanwhile, we should find . . . Kitty?"
Kitty was already out the door.
In the water park's bathroom, Kayla stood ankle-deep in a little girl's gore, facing Tay.
"I'm killing everyone here today," said Kayla. She motioned to her camera, which was still recording. "Do you really want to help murder your classmates?"
"Yes," said Tay, looking hopeful. "I want to kill them all and make a mess of all of them."
Having an enthusiastic helper certainly wouldn't hurt. Tay was cute, too, and fucked even better than Alyssa and Vivi—not combined, though. It would be a waste to kill her here.
And yet, how many more murderers did Summermount need? After finishing off the rest of the girls in the park, how many more would Kayla kill? How many more did she need to kill? How many more could she kill? Would adding Tay to her team change that? May's dying prayer reentered Kayla's mind like a spiritual mosquito. It bugged her more than it scared her now. She knew she couldn't give any more of her victims the chance to speak their last words.
Tay approached Kayla. Kayla took her into her arms and kissed her. She let her knife hover an inch from the back of Tay's neck. This decision meant more than just picking a partner.
"I really want to finish my killing spree with you," she said. She kissed the brown girl one more time, then dropped her knife and put her arms around Tay's head, hugging her. "And I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you."
She could feel Tay's heart beating faster and faster. She tensed her arms. She could break the girl's neck so quickly. But she didn't. She knelt, pulling Tay down with her.
"Let's do it one more time," said Kayla. This time, she took the initiative. She drilled her knee into Tay's pussy and let her partner's hips do the rest. She rubbed her breasts against Tay's. They squished together and slid off each other, making slick sounds from the fluids coating them. Kayla kissed Tay and stroked her hair with one hand. With her other, she grabbed a length of rope that had previously bound Ivy's ankles and knees. She brought it around Tay's head and started tying it while they kissed.
It took three minutes and four positions for Kayla to finish tying the rope how she wanted it. She rose to her knees and pulled Tay with her, still kissing. She set the rope around Tay's neck and immediately threw one end up to the ceiling. It wrapped around one of the exposed piles and hung down at Kayla's eye level. Tay looked at it, then at Kayla. She didn't say a word. She just kissed Kayla once more and nodded at the rope. Kayla took it in both hands and gave it a pull, rising to her feet. Tay came up as well, though not of her own will this time. She stayed silent the whole time. Kayla pulled the rope down and Tay rose to her toes. She never moved her eyes from Kayla's.
Kayla let the rope loose and hugged Tay tight. "You have no idea how hard this is for me," she said.
"I'm happy I can dance for you till the end."
"That sounded so lame," said Kayla. Tay grinned.
"Doesn't change the truth. I'd rather be killed by you than anyone in the world."
"But you'd rather not die."
Tay nodded. Kayla hugged her tighter. "I'll miss you."
She let Tay go and pulled the rope once again. Tay rose off the ground this time. She started kicking and swinging, her hands clutching at the noose around her neck. Kayla gave the rope another pull and lifted her even higher. Tay danced in the air. Her body shuddered and twitched as she tried to hold onto her life. Kayla set a foot on the rope to keep it in place. She reached up and put her hands on Tay's cheeks.
"Imagine that," she said. "I really do love you."
Tay cried. Kayla almost did. Instead, she buried her face in the dying girl's breasts and wrapped an arm around her waist. With her free hand, she touched Tay's crotch. She pleasured the hanging girl as she died. She put her arm up inside again, though it seemed tighter this time. She stroked Tay's inner walls with her fingers and sucked on her nipples. She thrust her hand up and down, up and down. She felt the moment Tay died. Her body loosened up, her vagina becoming significantly looser as well. Her hand, previously resting on Kayla's head, fell to her side. Kayla withdrew her arm and took a step back. Tay hung there, head angled to the side, shining-wet body still soaking and still sexy. Kayla tied the rope to a pipe on the wall, then stood back. She watched Tay hang in place for probably too long. With a bit of hesitation, she touched her vagina. It was still wet. She rubbed it and brought herself to orgasm, unable to help herself. Time was running down, but she would figure something out. She ran her hands down Tay's limp form, touched her lips once, then packed up her camera, replaced her clothes, and left the bathroom. She locked it on her way out.
There were only 10 girls left alive in the park.
Kayla's Massacre: Part 5
With just 10 girls left to kill, Kayla was beginning to have a hard time finding them. Near the locker rooms again, she sighed and rested a hand on a railing. With a yelp, she removed it. Her palm bled. She licked the blood away and looked down at the railing. It was sharp. Much too sharp to be left out uncovered. This was a safety hazard. Kayla mentally scolded the staff before remembering she'd killed and replaced the only employee on shift today.
She gave the railing a tug. It was loose, too. She pulled it harder. It came out. Kayla looked it up and down in her hands. The tip was sharpened nearly to a point, almost like a spit. Someone had to have done this on purpose. Railings didn't just rot into spikes on their own.
"Hey, I have a question," said a girl's voice. Kayla turned. Two girls stood in front of her, Asian-looking, with brown and caramel-colored hair respectively. Kayla recognized them as Jamie and Jill Sanson, sisters, theater girls. It was Jamie who spoke:
"What's wrong with the tunnels in the back? You've got two closed."
Kayla looked over Jamie's shoulder in the direction of the tunnel. "The closed tunnels need all their water flushed and replaced. Some idiot did the deed with his girlfriend on the way down and now the water's got . . . stuff in it."
Jamie laughed. Jill only smiled, but did so devilishly. They both wore black bikinis. Jamie's top covered more, but her midsection was more developed. Kayla was suddenly tempted to tear it open and leave Jamie to deal with her guts hanging out, but reminded herself that her kills had to be quiet.
"I can show you to some open ones," said Kayla. "There's one that has a loop."
"You mean like upside-down?"
Jill shook her head. "Not happening. I like my neck."
Kayla liked Jill's neck as well. It would look excellent with a blade going through it.
"I'll pass on that," said Jamie. "Do you know where the waterfall climbing is, by any chance?"
"I do," said Kayla. She was a bit disappointed they hadn't chosen the loopy tunnel. Its exit pool had piranhas waiting to be released. "Follow me."
Kayla led the twins toward the waterfalls, still carrying the spike. Jill noticed, apparently.
"What's that you have?" she asked.
Kayla walked backward and showed it to her. "Someone filed a railing to a point. Dangerous stuff. Hey, don't touch it."
Jamie pulled her finger away.
"It looks like something you'd roast a pig on," said Jill.
Or two sexy Asians, Kayla thought, sizing them up. She and Alyssa and Bart hadn't even finished eating Kiwi's corpse yet, but she'd promised Alyssa some meat. She had a feeling the woman would hold her to that, one way or another.
"Here you are," said Kayla. She stopped beside a waterfall with handholds and footholds extending from the wall behind it. Two harnesses dangled from the top, some hundred feet up. "Get your harnesses on . . . yeah, like that."
Kayla helped them get their harnesses adjusted. She had to force herself not to grope their breasts. It was harder than she wanted to admit, especially after her fun with Tay in the bathroom. She didn't like how much her self-control was waning. If this kept up, she'd either violate or murder every cute girl she met for the rest of her life.
"And up you go," she said. "First one to the top gets free ice cream. Go!"
Jill shot upward like a rocket-powered salmon, tearing through the waterfall at a surprising speed, considering her thin physique. Jamie, more toned, somehow fell behind. Kayla kept her eyes glued to their swaying asses until they neared the top. Then she set up her camera safely to the side and waited.
Jill's harness snapped first. She fell for at least 50 feet before she started to scream. Kayla held the spike point-up and tried to aim for Jill's spine. She shuffled around it so the camera could see everything. She braced herself.
Jill hit the spike dead on. It buckled under her weight and Kayla let go to save her arms. There was a snap and a wet sliding sound and a thump, followed by several more snaps. Jill lay dead with the spike rising straight out of her midsection, a few inches above her navel. She stared up into the sky, at her sister, who still clung to something to keep from falling. Kayla looked up as well. She knelt and gave Jill's breasts a quick grope before dragging her and the makeshift spit a few feet to the right. Jamie screamed something, but Kayla couldn't hear her over the waterfall.
Jamie fell. Her screams faded into nothing. All things considered, her fall looked somehow peaceful. Kayla hurriedly adjusted the spit, which now used Jill's body as a stabilizer. She watched Jamie, adjusted the spit, and watched again. With two seconds left, Kayla realized Jamie was going to miss. She gave it one good shove. Her reward was a sprinkling of blood as the pole speared through the back of Jamie's head. There was a sharp, squishy tearing noise, and then a series of hard snaps when the rest of Jamie's body hit the wet cement. Her body pulled itself free of her head, but not entirely. Jamie's spine stayed with her head and hung, bloody and glistening, between two halves of her mutilated neck.
Kayla pressed a hand to her crotch. This was almost too much. She squatted on Jamie's headless corpse and stared into her surprised eyes as she rubbed herself off on the dead girl's thigh. The spit had gone all the way through Jamie's head and come out the top, just above her hairline. A few bloody pieces of her brain clung to the pole, and a couple dripped down her face. Kayla took one in her hand. It squished easily, like a combination of Jell-O and yogurt. She licked it, then put it in her mouth and chewed it up. It didn't taste all that bad, but Kayla didn't care for the texture. She swallowed it anyway. Probably not the healthiest thing she could do, but fucking a dead girl's leg while playing with her brain wasn't typically healthy either.
Kayla shuddered and came. She stood and examined her latest kills. Both girls' faces were intact, as were most of their bodies. Kayla might just bring them out for meat, but on second thought, Tay, hanging by her neck in the bathroom and completely intact, was probably the better candidate.
"I'm completely insane," said Kayla to herself, noting the absurdity of her thoughts. She should be vomiting at the twins' corpses, not using them as masturbation tools. Regardless, she had to hide them until all the girls were dead. So she moved them behind the waterfall. Luckily, there was a space large enough to hide two corpses behind it. Kayla left them there. Below her, a couple bits of Jamie's brain washed into a drain, where they'd flow back up to the top of the water and surprise a climber with a nice slap in the face in a week or so. This park would probably close after today, however. A killing spree was bad for business, not to mention several gallons of blood infecting the water with who-knows-what.
Kayla heard voices not too far away. The waterfall had cleaned all the blood off her, so she pulled her hair out of her eyes and prepared another facade. There were eight girls left, and she recognized the voices.
Casey had wanted to surprise her parents with her new legs, but Kitty had apparently ruined the surprise. When she stumbled down the stairs and made her way into the living room, her parents welcomed her with two big hugs and one other thing.
"Twenty-thousand in cash," said her dad, showing Casey a stack of bills. "Kitty's fundraiser raised some funds. It's all yours."
Casey looked from the money to her legs to her parents. She sat on the couch. "I don't need any money. These legs are really all I need."
"We were thinking of using it to pay for your therapy. You don't want PTSD crippling your mind forever."
Casey thought back to the therapy sessions all those years ago, starting a week after the accident. If anything, the constant talking about and being reminded of the crash only made her trauma worse. She still wouldn't go near a car if she had any other choice, and she'd still curl in a ball in the back seat whenever she was forced into a vehicle.
"The therapy sucked," said Casey.
"Your doctor says you might have been on the verge of recovery when you stopped coming. When we ran out of money, that is."
"Fuck therapy," said Casey. "Really. Just put that all in your retirement fund or something. It's been four years. I can deal with it myself." She paused with the lie. "Where did Kitty go?"
Her mom nodded toward the door. "She left."
"I'm gonna go too. I need to find her."
Casey threw off the brace on her right arm and flexed it. It hurt, but it was better than running armless.
"You should stay and rest," said her mom.
"I just need to find Kitty. I'll be back soon. Actually . . . can I have some of that money? Kitty deserves at least some of it."
Kitty was, at present, facing the alley she—or the other girl she resembled—had died in. There was a kitten at her feet, mewing up at her. Against all her instincts, she didn't pet it. She didn't even look at it. There was something in this alley that shouldn't be in Summermount. She didn't know how she'd ended up here. She couldn't access the thoughts and memories in her brain, but from the moment she'd opened her eyes in Adrian's makeshift lab, she'd known about this place. She saw a shadow of the thing that had ripped her to shreds in her mind. It wasn't clear, but it was big and deadly. It also used the most horrifying honey trap in the history of anything: kittens.
She shook her head and walked away. She was supposed to be finding work to pay for Irri's reconstruction, not chasing some monster. She couldn't fight it, anyway. She had absolutely no reason to confront it.
A young woman approached her on the sidewalk. By now, everyone knew she was alive. There was hardly any surprise in the woman's face.
"Kitty Grant," she said with a smile. It was an odd kind of smile that Kitty had never seen before. Kitty smiled in return.
"Miss Holmes," said Kitty after taking a split second to match her face to her Facebook photo. She'd been a student teacher in Kitty's economics class. Kitty didn't like using the Internet to find people she was supposed to know. Even as Alyssa Holmes started to speak, she tried again to access her brain.
"Truly back from the dead. And you're a local hero, too."
Kitty nodded. "Seems so."
At that moment, a memory appeared, this one definitely from her brain. She remembered Alyssa's face, and she remembered drawing a shirtless man while a couple friends watched her and pretended to listen to the lecture. She remembered Alyssa confiscating the picture, then congratulating her on her taste after class and giving it back. She paused that thought. Why would she be drawing a shirtless man? Was there something under his shirt that was interesting enough to draw?
"I still remember you confiscating my drawing," said Kitty.
"Ha. Was it that traumatic?"
"No, it was cool. That was the day I learned you had good taste in guys."
Cool? When had that word entered her vocabulary? It was so generic. It described nothing. She didn't like it. If this was filtering in from her brain, she preferred her processors.
Alyssa touched Kitty's throat—nearly everyone did that when they talked to her. She let her hand slide down to Kitty's breast.
"This doesn't feel like it's fake," she said. Kitty nodded. Alyssa's hand returned to Kitty's neck. "How did you survive dying, I wonder?" she said. "I don't believe in miracles, but I'm starting to think that's the only explanation."
Kitty smiled. She liked making people wonder about her circumstances. She'd admitted the truth online once, but no one had believed her. Confusion was more fun, anyway.
"What would happen if you died again? The Slaughterer seems to have been avoiding you. Famous as you are, I'm surprised he hasn't paid you a visit."
Alyssa said this with a smile and a semi-sarcastic tone, and Kitty didn't remember how she'd acted in class, but she couldn't imagine anyone saying that politely to a friend. Had she done anything to anger Alyssa during class? She hoped not.
Alyssa had been contemplating different methods of murdering Kitty since she'd saved Casey and denied Alyssa her rightful kill. She'd settled on lightly roasting her and eating her alive. Zombie or not, she had meat inside her, and she would cook like anyone else.
"Kitty!" someone called. Alyssa turned to see the other girl she now hated: Casey Shaw. She was on prosthetic legs with only one arm in a cast. She looked way too happy. She approached Kitty and gave Alyssa a nod. "Miss Holmes," she said, tipping an imaginary hat.
"Do they work well?" Kitty asked, motioning toward Casey's legs. Casey nodded.
"They're great. I'd hug you if my arms worked."
Casey turned to Alyssa. "Hey, now you can brag to the rest of your classes that you taught one of the single most amazing girls Summermount has ever produced."
"I can," said Alyssa with a smile. She wanted both of these girls dead. She wanted to put a grenade in Casey's mouth and record her exploding in slow motion, then play the video in front of Kitty as she roasted.
"Well," said Kitty. "I need to find a job now. Do either of you have anything available?"
Casey produced a wad of cash from her pocket. "Fuck jobs," she said. "Take this."
Kitty looked hesitant, but she took the cash. "Are you sure? You probably need this more than I do."
Casey shook her head. "You gave me my legs back. That's all I ever wanted."
"I've got a seminar in a few minutes," said Alyssa. Kitty and Casey let her go with a couple good-byes. Alyssa got in Kiwi's repainted and slightly remodeled car and drove home, gripping the wheel tight the entire way. Her hands hurt when she arrived, but she ignored them. She searched the house and found Bart in their room, reading a book.
"Bart," Alyssa said. "Two things."
She stripped her shirt off and threw it hard against the wall. "First," she said, "fuck me. Second, I want Kitty Grant and Casey Shaw dead, and fast."
Bart slowly sat up, bookmarked his page, and set the book aside. "I can fuck you all you want," he said. "But I highly recommend waiting another couple hours. Kayla's working on something I believe you'll enjoy very much."
"Oh? Is she roasting her tits for me?"
"Even better. Just wait."
Bart stood and walked around behind Alyssa. She let her skirt fall to her ankles as he touched her shoulders. She felt his erection poke her ass. She felt his hands go around her neck and she felt the squeezing begin. She fell forward onto the bed under his weight.
"So what's this Kayla's doing?" she said as Bart penetrated her.
"It's a birthday surprise."
"Oh? 'The best slaughter you've ever seen,' she said?"
"I believe so."
Alyssa scoffed, then gagged as Bart squeezed her neck tighter, nearly breaking her neck. She was used to this, though, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
"Do you actually believe she can top my best kills? Have you even shown her my videos?"
Bart pulled her head back by her hair. "She knows what she's doing. Besides, it's for your birthday. Show her a little gratitude."
"Oh, all right. Now c'mon, make me feel like I'm seven years old in my stepfather's bedroom."
Bart did just that.
Kayla's Massacre: Part 6
Kayla knew the voices before she saw the girls: they were Amber Levine and Berri Tyler, girls she'd shared a day care with several years ago. They were both blond-haired, though Berri's hair was a curled mess. She had an excitable, carefree face; Amber always looked calm regardless of the circumstances.
They rounded a corner. Kayla greeted them with a smile and a nod. It occurred to her that she wasn't too keen on the idea of killing them. Thinking about it made her wet, but her mind was tugging the other way. They hadn't ever been her friends by any definition, but Amber was single-handedly responsible for stopping several bullying attempts on Kayla during middle school.
Presently, Amber's eyes didn't even register recognition. Neither did Berri's. Kayla was a bit jarred before she remembered her hair was its natural color now, and it had been a couple years since she'd even seen these two. Now, Berri hadn't changed. She'd grown her breasts a little, revealed by a frilly blue top that barely covered her nipples, but her face was exactly the same, maybe with a few more freckles here and there. Amber, on the other hand, looked way different. She'd looked kind of awkward a few years ago, but now, she looked regal. She could tie her hair back in a bun, put on a nice dress and a crown, and be a queen. Kayla could easily see her growing up to become a senator or a CEO. She radiated importance. In a black bikini that covered more than most one-pieces, she somehow managed to look noble in a swimsuit, too.
Kayla thought of simulating a guillotine to end her, but that train of thought hit a wall. She didn't want to kill Amber. She realized that for the second time, but once more, her vagina won over her mind.
"Where is everybody?" Amber asked. Kayla shrugged.
"About eight girls are back by the tunnels," she said. "The rest, I have no clue."
"Maybe they're gonna hide and surprise someone on their birthday?" Berri suggested.
"Whose birthday is it?" Kayla asked. This time, Berri shrugged.
"Nobody's," said Amber. She looked at Kayla. "There's a pool with jets in the bottom. Where is that?"
Kayla nodded in the direction of the pool. "I'll show you. We call that one the gushing orgasm simulator."
Berri laughed. Amber smiled. All three girls kept walking toward the pool.
"People just walk in there and stand over the jets," Kayla said. "I'm serious. Pretty much everyone takes pictures."
"You have a camera," said Berri. Kayla lifted the camera hanging around her neck.
"Yeah. Pretty powerful little thing. Records at twenty-two hundred fps, four-K resolution."
"Woo," said Berri. "Pro-quality stuff you got there."
They arrived at the pool. Berri ran in immediately and stood over one of the jets. Water gushed around her crotch, like Kayla had predicted. It really did look like a gushing orgasm.
"Amber!" said Berri. "C'mere. Put your hand in the water and make it look like you're getting me off."
Amber blushed—something Kayla had never seen her do before. She obeyed her friend anyway. The resulting scene was too good not to preserve. Kayla clicked a picture. Still blushing, Amber went to the deep end and swam away. Berri laughed, but didn't follow. She ran from jet to jet and started rating them according to how much pleasure she'd have to have to squirt that much.
"This one's like getting banged from behind by Orlando Bloom." Next. "This one's like missionary with Anakin Skywalker." Next. "This one's. . . eh, where'd it go?"
Kayla knew what was going to happen. She felt her cunt clench in anticipation. She set up her camera and pointed it straight at Berri. Amber was still off in the deep end doing something or other, but Kayla had something ready for her as well. But first, Berri.
Kayla watched the curly-haired girl poke at the jet again. Water came up and she stood up straight. She moaned as it collided with her crotch. Kayla began to wonder if she was doing this for fun or if she was just really horny.
She never found out. Berri was enjoying imaginary sex with some attractive movie star one moment, and the next, a spike leapt out from the jet. It slid all the way through the vulnerable girl and the tip came out the top of her head. For a moment, her hands reached for her head—but quickly fell. Berri slid slowly down the pole, dead. On her knees and held upright by the spit, she looked alive from a distance. If it wasn't for the blood spreading out in the pool around her, she may even look alive from where Kayla was.
Amber heard something from the shallow end and poked her head above the water. Berri was kneeling over one of the jets, pretending a handsome movie star was getting it on with her. Strangely enough, she wasn't reacting much to it. Her arms hung limp by her sides. Worse yet, she was completely still.
A million possibilities flooded through Amber's mind and they all drove her to the same conclusion: something was wrong. She started swimming toward her friend.
"Berri!" she called. No answer. She called louder, more desperately. She saw the blood in the water and swam faster, her heart pounding.
Something touched her neck, then tightened around it. She didn't even have time to look at it. Something yanked on it from below and pulled her under. She stopped herself just short of screaming. Whatever was happening, she needed to preserve the air she had until she could surface again. She looked down—or up, as she was upside-down. There was a wire coming from one of the jets. She put a hand on it and traced it up to her neck. To her horror, she realized it was cutting her. Blood was flowing up from her neck. She tried to wiggle a finger under it and protect her throat, but it was too tight. It had already given her a quick, uneven haircut. She had to make sure it didn't give her a headcut next. So she didn't struggle. She tried to feel for a weak point with her hands. Nothing. She swam down a foot and checked the jet. She stuck a finger into it, but couldn't feel any mechanism that would release the wire.
Amber felt herself losing consciousness. She fought it. The employee she’d spoken to would be here soon enough. The blood in the water had to draw attention. She waited. Thirty seconds passed. She was running out of breath. She tried tugging on the wire once more. She found a spot where it knotted, right where the string from the jet met the one around her neck. She managed to get a finger in. She pulled and prodded at it. It made her fingers bleed, but if she could get it free, she could survive.
Suddenly, everything went dark.
Kayla saw the blood rise from the water where Amber had gone down. With bittersweet satisfaction, she released the lever behind the pool. A huge blue tarp shot over it in an arc, unraveling itself in midair. This, Bart had planned and built. It looked pretty impressive. It covered both dead girls, Amber tethered to the bottom of the pool with her throat cut, and Berri with a spit through her body.
She collected her camera and left the pool behind. There were only six girls left.
Kitty felt her eyes water for the first time. She didn't wipe them. She let the tears—real tears, as Adrian's ingenuity would have it—fall down her face. Adrian saw it and smiled. "You can cry now. I don't know why I'm happy about that. But here, let's find that song you liked."
Adrian opened his web browser and went to a music streaming site. Kitty searched her own built-in computer for the song. She played a few measures of it and the computer recognized it.
"Magic of Love," she said. "The song's called Magic of Love."
Adrian searched the song, clicked the first link, and turned his speakers up. They listened to the peaceful modern folk-sounding song for about two minutes.
"This part," said Kitty. Three seconds later, drums joined the flute melody. A choir joined in and took the melody, singing slight variations on it. A bagpipe joined the choir, and that was when Kitty cried.
"Beautiful," said Adrian. "I don't even listen to this kind of music usually."
Kitty hummed the melody. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it, repeating the rise in the finale. She felt Adrian get out of his seat. She opened her eyes.
"Can I hug you, Kitty?"
Kitty was used to hugs. She never got tired of them, though. It felt good to be close to another person. Adrian was warm. She felt safe in his arms, though he'd admitted several times that he felt safer around her.
"Kitty," said Adrian. "How's your brain?"
Kitty ran a check. From the first memory till now, old thoughts had been trickling in. She imagined the strongest memories came first, or memories that were triggered by something, such as Alyssa's presence. She remembered Adrian—he'd been a senior when she was a freshman last year. He was always working on something, some big project. She'd never guessed that one day, she would be his big project. She'd played tennis with him a lot—something she wanted to do again soon. She'd liked both him and his little sisters. Unfortunately, there was no bringing Dani and Erica back. Their brains were destroyed and their remains were already buried.
"I remember things," she said. "Not everything, but more things than before. I played tennis with you. Kayla Connelly kissed me in fourth grade. Your sisters came and gave you a laptop for your birthday while we were playing tennis once. Dani was really cute, I remember."
Kitty recalled a memory she'd rather have forgotten.
"I remember how it felt to die."
Adrian hugged her tighter.
Amber needed to breathe, and fast. Her fingers were already cut to ribbons, but the knot on the wire was coming loose. She had to be careful with it. If she tugged it only a little too hard, it would slice through her throat and she'd die. It was already dangerously close, biting deep into her neck. If she survived this, she'd have a scar around her neck for the rest of her life like a morbid necklace.
Blind and barely conscious, she pulled the wire hard. It sliced into the back of her neck, severed her left pinky, and left her left ring finger numb. But it came loose. Amber kicked off the bottom of the pool and shot upward. She broke the surface with a gasp and looked around. There was a tarp over the pool. That was what had made it dark underneath. A bit of light filtered through, but not enough for Amber to see. She made her way to the shallow end. Standing in three feet of water, she lifted the tarp from the side of the pool with her right hand and peeked out. There was no one around. The red-haired employee was gone and the rest of the park was quiet. No screams. No splashes.
Amber had known in the back of her mind that something was wrong for a long time. It was too quiet. Girls Amber had seen going one way three minutes before had seemingly disappeared from the park. She felt her neck with her good hand—or her relatively good hand. The cut felt horrible, but she could breathe. The cuts on her hands weren't much better. Her left hand would never be the same, but her right looked like it had a chance. It was hard to see through all the blood, though.
"Berri?" Amber said. She felt something twist inside her and threw the tarp back. There Berri was. Now that she was closer, Amber could see everything. Her best friend was dead with a spike impaling her from crotch to head. Her blood mixed with Amber's had tinted the pool pink. Amber covered her mouth and turned away. She felt vomit hit her hand and mix in with her cuts. It stung. She breathed hard through her nose. Slowly, she forced her food back down and gave herself a few minutes to calm down and get her heart rate back below a hundred again.
This was no accident or prank. Someone had murdered Berri and tried to do the same to Amber. Amber almost suspected the employee she'd talked to earlier, but the redhead hadn't been carrying anything but a camera, keys, and a phone. Amber pulled the tarp back over the pool and blocked her vision of Berri's corpse, but sat on the edge and used the tarp to stop her bleeding. It didn't work too well, but it was better than nothing.
If there were more murders going on, Amber knew she should stop them and save as many of her classmates as she could. But what if the killer was bigger than her? What if he had a gun? What did he even look like? Or she? If Amber could reach the locker room, she could collect her phone and call the police and avoid facing the killer directly. But what if there was more than one killer? There were just too many openings where someone could see her sneaking around. If she stayed here, she could wait everything out, then tell the police everything she knew—which was nothing they couldn't see by themselves.
How many more were dead? Amber wanted to believe that she and Berri had been the killer's only targets, but then again, she also wanted to believe Berri was alive. She also wanted to believe she was at home on the couch with a bowl of ice cream and a good movie. Wanting did nothing. More girls were dead than just Berri, and she suspected more would die. She had no reason to believe the killer would stop with her.
Or were she and Berri the last two left?
Amber heard a scream. Against all her instincts, she slipped under the tarp, curled in a ball, and closed her eyes. She felt like she was betraying her classmates to the killer. In the back of her mind, she knew she'd carry more than just her physical scars with her after today.
Kayla stepped away from the girl's body, panting and surprised at herself for screaming. Fourteen-year-old Sena Wylder lay writhing on the ground. She clutched her throat and sputtered up blood, but nothing she did would save her. She'd surprised Kayla, and her natural reaction had been to slice sideways with her knife. Why did she do such a thing by instinct? She was starting to lose it. It had all started with May's dying prayer. There were six girls left—actually, five now that Sena was essentially dead. She was so close to completing her massacre. Just five more.
Kayla had killed a lot of people today. Innocent people, and most of them kids younger than her, at that. She wanted to be done with it.
Kayla straddled Sena, whose movements were slowing. She pulled up the dying girl's orange shirt to reveal track shorts and nothing but bare breasts up top. Sena focused her eyes on her killer for a few seconds, and then she died. Kayla took a few pictures, then set up her camera. She needed all 23 deaths recorded, and she wasn't about to stop just because she'd missed the moment of death once. She cut through Sena's neck with her knife and removed her head. Blood flowed down her long, brown hair and dripped to the ground below. Kayla wrapped the dead girl's hair around her head, tossed in the air, and kicked it like a goalkeeper. It flew and made a field goal between two slides. She didn't know where it fell, but she didn't really care anymore. She rubbed herself off a little on Sena's belly, but didn't reach orgasm. She stood and collected her camera and looked around for more girls. She dragged Sena's corpse off to the side and let it rest against a pole supporting a slide. It was out of the way. Anyone just passing by wouldn't see it.
Kayla sighed and began her search again. She kept her knife tight against her wrist and told herself over and over again to keep it there.
"Hey, do you work here?"
Kayla turned at the sound of a girl's voice. This was Micaiah Miller, 14 years old. She resembled Irri Snowski with her blond hair and facial structure, but her body wasn't quite as curvy. Kayla resumed her employee facade, glad she hadn't defaulted to a knife slash this time.
"I do," she answered. "Can I help you find anything? Or anyone? Seems everyone's disappearing on me today."
Micaiah nodded. "Yeah, dude. I can't find anybody and the locker room is locked."
Kayla smiled. "I can help. C'mon. Follow me."
Kayla's Massacre: Part 7
Turn around and run, Kayla thought. Turn around and run. Turn around and run. Dammit, Micaiah. Turn around and run. Do you even value your life? Hop the damn fence and get out while your head's still attached.
Of course, Micaiah just kept following Kayla as she led the girl toward the locker room. She was very aware that she'd left blood on the ground where she'd killed Sena. Someone would find that eventually, and maybe follow it to her corpse. Or maybe they'd find her head first. Kayla needed to finish fast. Sena's eyes kept returning to her mind. She'd stared mostly in disbelief, but also in fear. What was there to fear after someone had slit your throat? She was going to die no matter what. Kayla actually knew very well why she'd looked scared, and when she acknowledged that, May's prayer came back to her.
These girls weren't afraid of dying—at least not after their throats were sliced open. They were afraid of what came after, or worse: what didn't.
"Are you all right?" Micaiah asked. Kayla felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She was about to murder a girl who cared about her. Her, a complete stranger.
"I'm . . ." Kayla started. She stopped and pressed her forehead against the locker room door. "I'm scared. Have you ever thought about dying, Micaiah?"
"No, not too much." Micaiah started to elaborate, then stopped. "How do you know my name?"
"Run away and hide," said Kayla. "Micaiah Miller, if you value your life, run away and hide."
Kayla's heart twisted around in her chest when Micaiah only backed up one step. Her cunt celebrated. Her mind fruitlessly demanded a part in the proceedings.
"Tell me what's wrong," said Micaiah. There was genuine concern in her voice. This was concern Kayla had never heard directed at her since after her own dad's change of heart. "Tell me. I can help."
Kayla turned around and looked at Micaiah's face. She kept her knife concealed. Her heart begged her to drop it. Her mind joined in. Drop it, drop it, drop it, they pleaded. Her cunt made her look down instead, at Micaiah's athletic, bikini-clad form.
"There's something horrible going on here," said Kayla. She managed to keep her expression calm. "If I open these gates, will you run away and never come back?"
Micaiah only looked confused. She put both hands on Kayla's shoulders. "Open the locker room," she said. "I'll call an ambulance. I'll call the police. Which ones do we need? Why are you crying?"
Kayla looked away.
"Come on," said Micaiah. "Say something. I promise I can help you. I don't know what's wrong, but my mom's a psychologist. I can make you feel better, whatever it is."
"How can you make me feel better after I've murdered eighteen people?"
Kayla dropped her knife. Micaiah watched it hit the ground. Had she kept eye contact with Kayla just a moment longer, she might have ended the killing spree right then and there. As it was, the moments of broken contact steeled something in Kayla and let her primal urges overtake her once again. She kicked the knife forward. It slid up Micaiah's foot and lodged itself flimsily in her ankle. Before she screamed, Kayla lunged. She got a hand around the poor girl's throat and started recording with the other. Her camera still hung around her neck. She got both hands on Micaiah's neck and squeezed hard. Both girls fell to the ground, Kayla landing on top.
"Stop!" Micaiah managed to say, but barely. She didn't get another word out, but she kept moving her mouth. Kayla tried not to read her lips. She failed.
"I can help you. You don't have to kill me. Please don't kill me."
Kayla closed her eyes and kept choking her victim. She felt Micaiah's hands on her arms. Unlike her own similar encounter with Alyssa, Micaiah didn't scratch her or even grab her. It was a gentle touch, like a nurse's. Kayla opened her eyes. Micaiah truly looked like a less lusty version of Irri Snowski.
"My mom says I'm a goofball," Micaiah mouthed. Kayla wasn't quite sure where the girl had taken the topic while her eyes were closed, but here she was. "I'm trying out for varsity swimming when school starts. My parents are John and Mindy Miller and I love them. I want to become like my mom after college. I want to help people. I want to h . . . elp. . . ."
Micaiah stopped then. Her mouth opened and closed several times. Kayla tried to tear her hands away, but they stayed of their own volition. Micaiah shut her eyes. Her whole body gave a shudder, then went limp.
Micaiah wondered if she shouldn't have mouthed anything about trying out for varsity swimming. If this redhead strangling her was perceptive at all, she'd make the connection between swimming and holding one's breath. Apparently, she didn't. She got off Micaiah, allowing her air that she didn't take yet. But she'd only been denied
oxygen for 30 seconds. She had at least a minute left before she needed to take a breath and give away her game. She wondered as well if she should have kept it up a little longer. Maybe the girl would have let her go if she'd had another minute or so. Maybe. Maybe not. It was pretty obvious someone was forcing her to do this, the way she was talking and crying.
Micaiah heard a camera snap. Footsteps. Another snap. More footsteps. More snaps.
Would the redhead confirm her kill? It wasn't like strangulation was a particularly reliable method of murder unless there was a noose and a gallows involved. Maybe that was the point. Maybe the other girl didn't want her dead. Maybe, by some stroke of incredible luck, she hadn't killed the other 18 people she'd mentioned either.
Micaiah's heart beat so loud she was sure her would-be killer could hear it. She asked it politely to quiet down. It asked her to give its friends, her lungs, some oxygen first—to which she replied, I'll get back to you on that.
"I didn't want to kill you," said the redhead. "Why didn't you run away when I asked you to?"
She sounded so sad. Micaiah wanted to get up and hug her. There was no way she was doing this willingly.
"Wherever you're going," said the girl, "it's that much better than here because of you."
Micaiah waited. She heard the redhead walking away from her, away from the locker room. She cracked an eye open. She closed it quickly when the redhead started to turn. She waited ten more seconds and looked again. Her not-actually-killer was getting smaller in the distance. She'd taken her knife back. Micaiah started breathing again felt her senses return to normal. She hadn't even realized they'd been fading. She got on her knees, suppressed a cough, then gained her feet. She turned to the locker room door and jiggled the handle. Of course the girl hadn't unlocked it.
She caught sight of her reflection in the handle. She looked closer. There were red marks on her neck in the shape of two hands. She couldn't see them too clearly, so she felt them with her fingers. They felt tender, like poking them with a long fingernail would break them open. They probably weren't permanent, but Micaiah didn't really care about that at the moment. Somehow, she had to stop anyone else from dying and she had to get help for the redhead. She could let the police handle the rest. Right now, she was alive, she was there, and only she could save the rest of her classmates.
The rest meaning . . . six? Five? Micaiah felt an invisible hand squeeze her heart like it was her neck. If the locker room was locked and the gate was closed and also locked, that meant the girl's other victims had been her classmates. Eighteen of them were dead. Micaiah stood, open-mouthed, trying to process everything. Surely Ivy was alive somewhere. The poor little girl had enough mental baggage without dying being plopped on top of it like a sadistic cherry. And May, too. Micaiah's best friend. The redhead would have to be completely emotionless to kill May. Amber and Berri should be alive as well—Amber, at least, could defend herself. Berri never left her side, so those two should have made it. Chika and Diamond should have made it. Diamond's pregnancy would probably earn her enough sympathy that, if nothing else, she'd be killed last. Chika was too nice to die, on top of baking the best brownies Micaiah had ever tasted.
Micaiah stopped writing her mental list of girls she wanted to survive. She wanted everyone to live. She might be too late. Clearing her head, she started running after the redhead.
Micaiah slowed a bit, but didn't stop. Caroline Leese jogged to catch up with her. She still wore her thin glasses; the red frames and curly caramel-colored hair framed a pretty face Micaiah was glad to see alive.
"What's the rush?" Caroline said. "What's that on your neck?"
Micaiah ignored the second question. "Saving lives. Wanna help?"
"Heck yes. What do we do?"
"Find a redhead in an employee's outfit, talk to her, get her to stop. Maybe get her to tell us who's making her do this, because she's sure not doing it willingly."
Micaiah briefly went over everything she knew.
"So you wanna talk a serial killer out of killing?" Caroline said. "After she already strangled you for trying once?"
"She was blubbering like she'd stop any second. I don't want to hurt her. You shouldn't fight violence with violence."
"Actually, if it'll save lives, you totally should."
Micaiah conceded philosophical defeat. Then she tripped on something round and hairy, rolled through, and almost kept running. Something about the texture of the thing made her stop. It felt like someone's head, but there had been no scream.
"Stop," she said. Caroline halted. They both turned around and looked down. The thing Micaiah had tripped over rolled up against her foot. She knelt beside it and picked it up.
"Is that. . ." Caroline started.
"Don't scream," said Micaiah.
Caroline actually didn't scream. She covered her mouth, though, took a few steps, and barfed somewhere. Micaiah brushed long brown strands from the decapitated head to reveal its face.
"Sena," said Caroline and Micaiah at the same time. Sena's head had been lodged between a pole and a tuft of grass—of course Micaiah hadn't seen it. The dead girl's head was completely pale. All the blood previously in her head had apparently dripped out into the grass and been soaked up by the dirt.
"This is real," said Caroline. "Holy . . . crap. This is actually real. Micaiah, are you crying?"
"A little." Micaiah stood and set her dead friend's head aside. "Come on. We have to hurry."
Kitty Grant found herself outside the alley she'd died in. This time, she was here to investigate. She'd given Adrian the money and told him to have Irri done by the time she got back. It was impossible to do that quickly, he'd said, but Kitty didn't intend to return for a while. She waited for the kittens to start coming out. One came, a little gray kitten with a white spot on its nose. Kitty smiled and hugged it. Memories flooded back into her old brain—of her first cat, a little white kitten whom her dad had unfortunately allowed her to name.
"Baseball," Kitty said, chuckling. She held the gray kitten at arm's length. "I named a little milk dud like you 'Baseball.'"
Milk dud? Kitty tapped her head. Surely her old brain used better words to describe kittens, but she didn't hate this one.
"You're so cute," Kitty said. She touched her nose to the kitten's and looked into its eyes. "You're such a good honey trap I came back twice after I died once."
The kitten mewed. Kitty set it down and watched a couple more accumulate at the alley entrance. Some didn't stray out of the shadows, but the shadows weren't dark enough to hide them in their fluffy glory.
Kitty's cat, Baseball, was still alive if her old brain wasn't messing with her. He was 12 now, four years younger than Kitty.
"Where's your mommy?" Kitty asked as she scratched a black kitten's chin. "She killed me, and I don't feel she was entirely justified in doing so. So I'm here to file a complaint."
Someone laughed behind her. Kitty looked over her shoulder. There was a black-haired man with a short beard she didn't entirely recognize, probably in his early thirties.
"Bart Dresden?" she said automatically. Her old brain sent her a couple memories of this man showing up to watch tennis matches. He'd complimented her on her form, and even played a few practice matches against her and Adrian.
"Look at you in your natural habitat," he said with a smile. "You look as happy as ever. The whole dying thing couldn't keep you down, could it?"
Kitty grinned. "You talk like you thought it would."
Bart shrugged and knelt beside her. "I always figured people died when they were killed. And here you go, challenging my perceptions all nonchalant."
Bart petted a kitten as well, a white one.
"That one looks like my cat," said Kitty. "But young. I named him Baseball because he had red yarn wrapped around him when I opened the shoebox."
"Yeah. Do you have a cat?"
Bart shook his head. "I did when I was around your age. Little calico girl, old as I was. She died the day after I left for college."
"I'm sorry," said Kitty. "I can't imagine how hard it'd be to lose a cat."
Bart nodded. "It's inevitable. Cats have shorter lifespans than us, like we have shorter lifespans than tortoises. If a tortoise kept you or me as a pet, it would live around two hundred years after we died and probably grieve for months, as we would grieve days for a cat."
"I've been preemptively grieving since I was old enough to understand Baseball would die."
"You're a special case."
Another voice chimed in then, this one immediately familiar to Kitty.
"What's going on?" said Fay Ryan.
"Cat stories," said Kitty. "Do you have a cat, Fay?"
The young intern squatted beside Kitty. She had a camera bag, but made no move toward it. Seeing her now, a few memories came back. Fay was a little younger than Adrian, probably 18 or 19, and looked exactly her age. She had a refreshing look about her, smiling easily and genuinely as she picked up a kitten. Windswept brown hair covered her shoulders and framed an oval face that looked like it would fit right in with a shampoo ad. She was a reporter—of course she kept herself looking pretty as possible. She wore short jean shorts and a gray tank top, completing her casual fashion model look.
"I have a cat," said Fay. "Her name's Mouse and I love her dearly."
Kitty turned to Fay. "Oh, I love sphinxes. Do you have pictures?"
"I don't," said Fay.
"I do," said Bart. He pulled a picture from his wallet. "Your cat photobombed my wedding picture."
Sure enough, a proud-looking sphinx was strutting across a fence behind Bart and Alyssa Holmes in a suit and a dress respectively. Kitty and Fay looked at the picture and started laughing at the same time. Bart chuckled and let them look.
"See," said Fay, "mice are usually subtle, right? Not Mouse."
"Apparently not," said Kitty.
"Hey, quiet," said Bart, standing slowly. He motioned toward the alley. Fay and Kitty shut up and handed Bart's picture back. The kittens stayed around, but there was something else moving in the alley—something bigger.
"Stand back," said Kitty. "I want to see this thing."
"It killed you once already," said Fay. "I have no idea how you're back, but don't risk your life again to the same stupid thing."
"She's probably right," said Bart. "We know there's something else back there and we know it killed you."
Kitty stood just outside the alley entrance. The kittens were starting to migrate back toward the thing in the alley, which was beginning to take shape. Kitty saw it for what it was as the shadows faded to reveal it.
"A cat?" Bart said.
"I knew it," said Kitty. There was a huge cat there, just a bit bigger than a full-grown lion, but resembling a cross between a housecat, a panther, a lion, and a skeleton. It was way too thin for its size. A little more than half its skull showed. It was charred and blackened. Only one of its eyes was there, but it was yellow and bloodshot. There was something circular and brass lodged in its forehead—a bullet. Its neck was a little too long for its body and was bent just enough that it didn't look natural. It had a mane down at the base of its neck that faded out to the rest of its fur. It had chunks of fur missing, with burn marks and slashes down the bone scattered along its body. It was difficult to see through everything, but its fur was all black.
"You ate me alive," said Kitty. "That wasn't very nice of you, but I do suppose you were starving."
The cat-thing approached the edge of the alley. Kitty stood about two feet from it, out of the alley and in the sunlight, accompanied by a man and a young woman.
"It must be hard feeding so many kittens," said Kitty. "You never get to eat for yourself, do you? You didn't even get to eat most of me before the police found me."
Kitty knew very well it didn't understand a word she said. It was all in the tone.
"Would you like it if I brought food for you and your kittens every day? You wouldn't have to starve here anymore, and you wouldn't have to kill me or anyone else just to survive. Does that sound good?"
The cat-thing didn't move. It held a staring contest with Kitty. For a full minute, neither contestant blinked or twitched. Kitty kept talking, telling the beast reassuring things and even praising it for its mindfulness of the kittens. Finally, Kitty blinked, smiled, and walked away. She joined Bart and Fay, who had already backed across the street.
"Kitty—" Fay started.
"I'm going home," said Kitty. "When I get there, I'm going to scream because that was the scariest thing I've ever seen."
Fay held out her camera. On its screen was a picture of Kitty holding out her hand to the cat-thing, whose huge half-nose was poking out of the alley. She didn't remember that moment specifically, but her mind had been focused on two things: talking nicely and preparing to run extremely fast.
"Mind if I put this in the paper?" Fay said.
"Sure," said Kitty. "Say I said to stay away from the alley no matter what, and let me handle it."
Fay gave her a blank stare.
"I'm serious. I think I can resolve this without hurting the megacat."
"Megacat it is," said Fay.
"Right," said Kitty. "Now I'm gonna go scream. I'll see you around."
"Wait," said Fay. Kitty waited. "I never got to talk to you properly. You came back from the dead and didn't get interviewed. I've got an hour before I pick up my little sister from the water park. Would you be okay with an interview, provided it took less than an hour?"
Kitty nodded. "I was planning on being out all day anyway."
"Walk and talk," said Fay, motioning toward a bench a couple blocks away. She turned to Bart and opened her mouth. He merely waved. She waved back, and they went their separate ways.
"What kinds of things should I say?" Kitty asked.
"Firstly," said Fay Ryan. "You haven't lived with your parents since you came back from the dead, but you said a minute ago you were going to go home and scream. Tell me about your home."
Kayla found Jenny and Allison next. Jenny, in her 20s, was curvier than the 14-year-old Allison and better-endowed. Allison, though, had a sexy, light brown skin tone that Kayla couldn't resist. It was half as dark as Tay's, but still looked amazing. Jenny's was lighter, closer to white—still attractive, by all means. Jenny wore a white monokini that wouldn't look out of place on a Playboy cover and Allison wore a strapless pink bikini top with gym shorts.
Best of all, Kayla thought, they were talking to each other in Spanish. Kayla couldn't understand a word they said, and for that, she was glad. She wouldn't get to know them before they died, and therefore, she wouldn't feel guilty. May, Tay, Amber, and
Micaiah had all been hard kills, even if Tay's death had resulted in one of Kayla's best orgasms ever. She felt guilt for all of them, especially Micaiah.
Jenny and Allison were a different story. They were walking toward a set of three slides that Kayla and Bart had spent hours rigging. These were actual slides, not tunnels. Kayla didn't need to adjust the tiny cameras' lighting for these kills. She set up her own camera for the higher resolution, higher FPS footage. Jenny and Allison would see her, but not the camera until it was too late. And even if they saw it, what could they make of it? It wasn't like either of them knew the rules against video cameras.
Kayla resisted the temptation to masturbate as the girl and the woman ascended the steps to the top of the slides. Finally, she could sit back and enjoy a kill without the angel on her shoulder bludgeoning her heart with her staff. She watched closely. Allison got in the first slide, the light blue one, and Jenny got in the second slide, which was yellow. They counted down, then pushed off. Allison started off faster. She only reached her final destination faster. Lying on her back, she yelped, then went silent when a pole shot out of the slide, stuck straight up her crotch, and returned to its hole within half a second. Moments later, Jenny hit her deathtrap. She ran vagina-first into a blade Bart and Kayla had sharpened and tampered with for longer than Kayla cared to count. She didn't even have time to move her head. The blade sliced her cleanly in two vertical pieces. Not a second later, the grenade stuck in Allison's lower throat exploded. Kayla would have to go back and slow the clip down later, but for now, all she saw was Allison's chest and head pop like red popcorn in a nova of blood. The pole with the grenade on the end had killed her, but the grenade had made it a better spectacle. It wasn't even loud. It was just a slightly wet pop, almost exactly like a water balloon exploding. Kayla heard the sharp schloop as Jenny's body came apart and slid another ten feet before blood started to spray everywhere. The corpses came to rest at the bottom of the slides. Kayla took a few close-up shots, masturbated to climax on Jenny's brain, and didn't even bother cleaning up or hiding these two.
There were only two girls left alive: Caroline Leese and Fiona Banks. If their Facebook photos were anything to go by, they'd be amazingly hot in bikinis, and therefore, amazingly hot corpses. Kayla only had to make sure they couldn't talk.
Kayla's Massacre: Part 8
Micaiah and Caroline arrived at the slides five minutes too late.
"Hey, is that Jenny and—"
Micaiah stopped, turned around, and walked the other way. Caroline stayed a moment longer. Micaiah stopped and gave her time.
"Still don't want to hurt her?" she said. Micaiah let the silence carry her answer. Dead, scary silence. It was far too quiet.
"How many do you think are dead?" Micaiah said slowly. She felt Caroline's footsteps behind her. Then she felt Caroline's arms around her and her head on her shoulder. She felt her friend quivering and felt her tears on her shoulder.
"Too many," Micaiah agreed.
They stayed that way for a good 30 seconds before Micaiah said, "We should move. We should hide."
"No more hero time?"
Micaiah shook her head. "Against someone who can do that to another human being, I'd feel much safer under one of those tarps."
The girls made their way across the park, much more quietly now. Every sound they made sounded like a bong in an auditorium against the absolute silence. There wasn't even any water running. There was no splashing. No voices. No footsteps.
Caroline pointed at a tarp over what Micaiah assumed was a large pool. Micaiah looked around to check if they were alone before lifting the edge of the tarp. The water was pink. Micaiah dropped the tarp. The realization struck her then, hard, right in the brain: all these tarps covered the remains of her dead classmates.
Caroline checked under the tarp next. She looked all the way under toward a spot where the tarp raised over the water.
"Berri," she whispered. She dropped the tarp as well. "If she's dead, that means Amber can't be far."
Micaiah closed her eyes.
"I'm not far," said Amber's voice from below the tarp. Micaiah and Caroline looked at each other, then lifted the tarp again. Amber was about halfway between them and the
deep end. She was curled in a ball on the side of the pool with bits of the tarp tied around her neck and left hand. "Come here," she said. "Don't let anyone else see you."
Micaiah and Caroline obeyed. They crawled under the tarp and formed a triangle with Amber. Up close, Micaiah could see her injuries. There was dried blood on her shoulders and chest, dripping out from under the piece of tarp around her neck. One of her hands was sliced up, but whole. The other, wrapped in blue, looked a little too thin in the finger area.
"Berri's dead," said Amber. "I heard someone scream a while ago—I think it was that girl with the red hair."
"Nope," Micaiah said. She filled in Amber on the details. She told her how the red-haired employee was actually the killer, but was being forced to commit the murders by someone else. "She's got a knife on her and a stronger grip than you'd think." She massaged her neck.
"There's three of us and one of her," said Caroline. "I doubt she could kill all three of us."
"She's killed God knows how many already," Micaiah pointed out. "But maybe she's burning out. She actually seemed really pathetic when she tried to kill me."
"Burning out? Allison and Jenny would've loved to hear that."
"What happened to Allison and Jenny?" Amber asked. Micaiah told her. She just looked more distressed afterward. "All right," she said. "Who was that last person you both saw, and where were they going?"
Micaiah thought back. Caroline answered first. "The twins. They were looking for Ivy, said they wanted to help her have fun for once."
"Besides Caroline," said Micaiah, "I saw Jenny and Allison with Fiona."
"Fiona?" Amber confirmed. "And you didn't see her body?"
Micaiah shook her head.
"Then she could be alive."
“Or under a tarp,” Micaiah pointed out.
Caroline stood. Micaiah and Amber each grabbed one of her arms. She glared down at them, froze, and let her expression soften.
"If we hear anyone, we'll check and see who it is," said Amber. "If it's Fiona or anyone else we know, we'll—”
Micaiah cut her off. "Wait. Wait just a minute." She ran through the evidence in her head. "What if Fiona's with the redhead?"
She expected a protest from at least one of her friends, but none came. She continued.
"I mean, she was with Allison and Jenny last I saw, and then we both saw Allison and Jenny dead. Fiona was gone."
Caroline hesitated a bit before talking. "And what if we wait a few hours, come out of here, and we find Fiona's corpse along with the others? We could save her."
"I want to," said Micaiah. "But did you see Jenny and Allison?"
"I didn't want to. Not like that."
"Case in point," Micaiah said. "Whoever killed those two has more than just a knife on them. A grenade, at least."
"She didn't have a grenade," said Amber. "Just a camera. But I didn't see her knife either."
Micaiah heard something and silenced her friends. They all listened. Far away, there was a dull thump, like something heavy slamming into the ground. It repeated itself again. Then once more. For a minute, all three girls said nothing.
"What was that?" Caroline eventually said.
"I don't know," said Amber. "And I don't want to know. We'll stay here until the bus comes back. The driver will know something's wrong and hopefully call the cops. Then, when the cops come, they'll find us and we'll be safe."
"That's a long time to wait," said Micaiah. "We've got hours left."
"I'd rather wait a few hours than die in a few minutes," said Amber. Micaiah and Caroline nodded their agreement.
They waited a long time.
Kayla found Fiona Banks near a playscape. She was standing under a small waterfall pouring from a plastic Buddha sculpture's mouth. Kayla set up her camera and focused it on the spot where Fiona would die. Then she walked toward the girl and cleared her throat. Fiona looked over her shoulder when Kayla approached.
"Hey, employee!" Fiona said. She smiled. Kayla noted her breasts bouncing in a beige bikini when she ran a few steps. She stopped a few feet from Kayla. "Where is everyone? Did I miss an event or something?"
"Nope," Kayla said. She put her hands on Fiona's shoulders. "You're just in time."
Fiona was a round-faced girl with bright blond hair and brown eyes. She was definitely cute, her face slightly offset by a developing body that was filling out rather nicely. Kayla had an idea. She stood back and checked her stolen phone. On it, she accessed several of the cameras she'd set up around the park. She hadn't set them in every pool, as she hadn't trapped every pool, but unfortunately, she'd neglected to put one in the pool where Amber and Berri had died. There was also a pool full of acid that she'd forgotten to put a camera by, and one of the playscapes as well. Fortunately, she'd remembered to put one here, just inside the Buddha statue's mouth. She saw herself and Fiona standing there.
She checked several spots and counted up the corpses. She came out to 14, then added on the girls she'd killed where there were no cameras. Micaiah, Amber, Berri, Tay, Ivy, Kelsey, and a little girl near Kelsey whose name she didn't know. Twenty-one left Fiona and Caroline.
"Hey," said Kayla. "Do you know where Caroline Leese might be? She's also missing."
There was something about this girl's voice that made Fiona a bit wary. Was it in her eyes, or in her smile? Or the suspicious lack of any sound whatsoever aside from the water pouring out of the plastic Buddha's mouth? If there was an event Fiona was late for, it was quiet. Very quiet.
"I have no idea where she is," Fiona said. "She wasn't on the bus."
The redhead looked contemplative for a moment. Then she shrugged. "So she's not here. I suppose that's good for her."
Fiona had a feeling she'd regret something very soon. Maybe it was something the redhead said. Maybe it was in how she said it. Maybe it was the way she was looking at Fiona's body. Whatever it was, Fiona didn't want to find out.
"Hey," she said. "I'm gonna go run off to the bathroom real quick. Where's this event at?"
Kayla had her knife in the girl's side before she could move and her hand over her mouth before she could scream. She pushed her victim to the ground and straddled her hips. She left her knife lodged in Fiona's side and pulled her bikini down. She wiggled out of her own lower garment and began grinding. Fiona stayed relatively still through this, presumably in shock. Kayla pulled her knife out of Fiona's guts and tossed it aside before returning to her duty. She stuck a finger in the knife hole and pushed on her victim's intestines. Then she pulled it out and lifted one of Fiona's legs over her shoulder. Fiona's eyes met hers, frightened and filled with tears.
"Sorry," Kayla said. "If it makes you feel any better, I killed all your classmates already. You're the last."
Apparently this didn't make her feel any better. Fiona started moving and screaming—or maybe wailing was the proper word, frightened and near hysteric. She brought her arms up from her sides for the first time and tried to push Kayla away. Kayla grabbed Fiona's breasts and pushed her down, groping her. Fiona glared up at her and dug her nails into Kayla's arms. She made sure they broke skin near the elbows, then dragged down toward her wrists. Kayla remembered doing the exact same thing to Alyssa. It hurt more than she thought it would. She didn't let go of Fiona's breasts and kept fucking her as she bled, weakening every second.
Kayla looked up. She—and more precisely, Fiona's head—was under a giant cement block attached to a chain. It was part of the playscape since yesterday. The old one had been a plastic box meant for use as a semi-stable standing swing. Kayla and Bart had decided that cement was much more fun to play under, or to have someone else play under.
"Look up," said Kayla. Fiona looked up. Any sound coming out of her mouth halted abruptly. She saw the cement hovering over her head and only fought harder. Kayla let one of her breasts go and went for her knife. Fiona stopped fighting and put her hands above her head.
"Stop," she said. "Please, just stop. I don't wanna die."
Kayla shrugged. "Sucks to be you."
She slid the knife into Fiona's unharmed side, apparently stunning her. She yelped and trailed off in a pained moan before she stared blankly up at Kayla again.
"What?" Kayla said. "No life story? Nothing about how much you love your parents? Not gonna tell me your hopes and dreams?"
Fiona looked confused for a moment. Then she opened her mouth. "I wanted to—"
The cement block flattened Fiona's head against the wet ground. Blood spattered out the bottom; a few droplets landed on Kayla's legs. Fiona's hands tried to reach for her head and hit the cement block instead. Three seconds later, she went completely still. Kayla let her voice out and moaned loudly into the empty air. She gave Fiona's dead cunt a few more good thrusts, then came. The cement block raised into the air, slowly. Kayla watched it go. A few strands of blood connected it and what used to be Fiona's head on the ground. Kayla saw half her brain smashed against the block and the other half smeared on the ground. Her face was unrecognizable. The splotch of pink and red and blond didn't look anything like a human head.
Kayla stepped back when she remembered how the block was programmed. She'd had time. The block waited ten more seconds before lurching down a few feet, then falling again. This time, it crushed Fiona's torso from the navel up with a sound much like the first one: an actual splat, only bigger, wetter, and more satisfying. Kayla suspected this wasn't what the onomatopoeia had come from, but it fit pretty well. The block rose and took bits and pieces of what used to be a nice, attractive set of breasts with it. Kayla vaguely recognized the shape of Fiona's heart and the shattered white bits of her ribs, but everything else just looked like a mess of blood and a bit of breast fat to her.
The block came down again on Fiona's hips and thighs, and then for a last time on her shins and feet. When it raised after that, there was nothing recognizably human about Fiona's remains. Kayla rubbed herself. Looking at this mess was surprisingly arousing—or maybe not that surprising, considering she'd had a similar reaction to Erica and Dani's remains. She moaned, stared down where Fiona's eyes had been, and squirted.
In the end, Fay hadn't been able to squeeze much information out of Kitty. Nothing personal, anyway. Nothing about her death besides how she felt about it. Nothing the public didn't already know.
"I live in a house on a street in Summermount," Kitty had said. "I'd like to keep it secret a bit longer."
Why? Fay couldn't figure it out. On one hand, Kitty could be with the killers, but that would make no sense. She was saving lives, not ending them.
"I have a cat named Baseball," she'd said. That was the most personal information Fay knew about Kitty. She could run an article on Kitty and the creature she dubbed the megacat, sure, but she wanted more than that. Kitty was the first person she'd known of to survive being killed. She couldn't just come out with nothing.
For now, she'd have to. Fay watched Kitty wander away somewhere and decided to head off to the water park. It was supposedly open to just her sister's class today, but it wasn't like they'd turn away a reporter. She ran some practice headlines through her head as she walked. It would take her a good half hour to get there on foot, but she had plenty of time.
She heard something above her. She looked up to see a shadow crossing the gap between the two buildings she stood between.
"Hey!" she called. "Casey!"
No answer. Fay shrugged to herself and kept walking. She heard two metallic clinks behind her, followed by a yelp. She turned around. Casey sat on the ground with her prosthetic legs out in front of her. She smiled up at Fay.
"Yo. Covering something other than murders today?"
Fay nodded while Casey stood. She still had a cast on one arm; it hadn't been long since her fall.
"Kitty went back and talked to the thing that killed her. She calls it the megacat."
"I saw that," said Casey. "I was above you the whole time."
Fay raised an eyebrow. "Already? Seems kinda dangerous so shortly after the first time."
"Nah, I'm safe. No more ziplines, no buildings taller than three of me."
"Both the buildings over the megacat's alley are more than three of you, that's for sure."
"She actually went up and talked to the thing that ripped her throat out. Kitty's gotten pretty badass, hasn't she?
"I wouldn't say 'badass,' but she sure is something."
"I'm completely straight, Fay."
"I think I'm in love with Kitty."
"So I'm not supposed to be."
"Isn't it normal to love your friends?"
Casey appeared to consider that. Fay continued, "Loving someone doesn't always mean romance or sex. Think of your parents. Do you have a sister or brother?"
Casey shook her head. "Used to have both. Then bang, crash, PTSD, fuck you life, oh hi there rooftop parkour, oh hi you nice little wall, ow my fucking legs, hello Kitty, and hello prosthetics."
Fay blinked. "Was that your entire life story there?"
Casey shrugged. "More or less. I suppose I could've added in the years before the crash, but the me back then feels like a completely different person. Cute little honor student, I was. Social butterfly, goody two-shoes, played clarinet. Had a crush. Bang, crash. Gone."
"Wow." Fay hadn't even asked. Casey probably just needed someone to talk to.
"But yeah, I know what you're getting at. Kitty's like a sister."
Fay thought about it. "I'd almost say like a mom, but she's younger than you."
"And hello, Back to the Future."
Bart returned to a rather impatient Alyssa waiting in their car.
"Kitty on one side, Fay on the other, and you let them both live?"
Bart shrugged. "Come on. It was right out in public. Besides, I like Kitty. And it turns out Fay Ryan's cat is the one who photobombed at our wedding."
"That little hairless thing?"
"Speaking of hair, let's go to the park. I wanna see Kayla as a redhead."
Bart drove to the water park. There was no one on the road around them, as the entire place was reserved today, so no one would see the car. The park's gates were closed and locked. Bart honked the horn twice and waited. A minute passed. Then Kayla showed up with her camera, looking absolutely nothing like the girl he'd first found in the alley. He liked her better like this: aggressive-looking, alluring, the camera strap between her breasts emphasizing their shape.
"Hey," she said. "Bart, help me get the cameras. Alyssa . . ."
Kayla unlocked the gates and handed Alyssa the camera and a phone Bart didn't recognize. She'd probably stolen it.
"Alyssa, you can either watch the whole thing on those, or wait till we get home and I get the chance to edit it into something more watchable."
"Can I see the site of the crimes?"
Kayla nodded. "Follow me. Bart, let's split up and get them faster."
The three of them headed off into the park. Kayla noted that Micaiah's body was gone, but said nothing about it. If Alyssa asked later, she could say she dragged the corpse into a grinder or something, or maybe burned it. No one had touched the water guns she'd filled with lighter fluid, but Alyssa didn't have to know that yet. She hoped Micaiah had hidden herself well.
At every death site, Alyssa gave Kayla a grade for creativity. Jamie and Jill got an A. Most of the knife kills received a D, but Ivy got a B+ for brutality.
"There's more to these two's deaths," said Kayla when she and Alyssa were in the bathroom. Tay still hung there and Ivy's blood had stopped flowing. "I'll just let you watch the video."
"Will I have to revoke your B+?"
"Dunno. You tell me."
The grinder deaths all got a B, the decapitations both got a B as well. Sena's was a little different. Alyssa added points for every minute she spent searching for her head, and Kayla ended up with an A. She didn't go to the pool where she'd killed Berri and Amber, since there were no cameras there, but she preemptively gave herself an A- for Amber's underwater hanging and a B+ for Berri's impalement. Fiona got an A-, with Alyssa complaining that it was hard to find a big enough piece to masturbate with.
Kayla met Bart back by the gates with half her cameras in a plastic bag Alyssa had provided. Bart's hands were bleeding when he held up his bag.
"It was a good idea," he said. "But getting a camera off a meat grinder in the middle of a tunnel is a bit difficult."
Kayla had intentionally skipped that one for that exact reason. She'd planned on getting Bart and Alyssa to help with it after they had the rest, but as long as they had it, it would work.
"All right," said Bart. "Let's get you girls home. Kayla, get your reel put together and we'll all watch it either tonight or tomorrow."
"You're not taking the meat grinders or anything down?" Alyssa asked.
"We wore gloves putting them up," said Kayla. "We'll let the police handle that. I, for one, don't want to go anywhere near those things."
Kayla spent a long time editing her video. Firstly, she went in and removed anything that would indicate Micaiah had survived and added a disclaimer saying that she'd thrown the corpse in a trash can and forgotten to show it to Alyssa. She copied and pasted Fiona's death at the end and showed it twice, once normally, and once in slow motion. She also appended Jamie's death with a slow motion clip, and then Bart brought her coffee.
"They found the bodies," said Bart. "Whole town's gonna be a shitstorm for weeks. Apparently you killed the kids of some pretty influential people.
"Influential people have sexy daughters," said Kayla. "Their fault."
She was still editing the day after when Alyssa sent her an email containing a link to an article on the massacre.
The Summermount News E-edition
23 murdered in water park massacre
Yesterday, June 2, 23 girls and women were found dead in the Fun Falls water park. Evidence suggests more than one person was responsible for the deaths. Among the victims was 12-year-old Leeli Ryan, sister of Fay Ryan, our intern editor. In lieu of this murder, Fay has taken time off.
Josh Brown, news room editor
Adrian Winters (9:12 a.m.)
Christ. We need the army here or something.
Jody Long (9:12 a.m.)
23 murders and kitty grant didn't save anyone? where was she?
Adrian Winters (9:13 a.m.)
Is that sarcasm? Is she a superhero or something? She's only human.
Erin Gray (9:13 a.m.)
Where was Kitty Grant?
EDIT: NVM, Adrian's right.
Kitty Grant (9:14 a.m.)
I'd have done everything in my power to save those girls if I knew they were in danger. I'll do my absolute best to prevent any further deaths. This has to end now.
Josh Brown (9:15 a.m.)
It should have ended a long time ago. No one expects you to be a superhero, Kitty. Just survive.
Jody Long (9:15 a.m.)
I guess people actually do expect a superhero, sorry Kitty. I know a lot more people who think she should have been there. And Erin, how do you edit posts?
Audrey Williams (9:15 a.m.)
This is really sad. This really needs to stop.
Eric Long (9:16 a.m.)
cops r useless we need the fbi not kitty grant
Grammar Nazi (9:17 a.m.)
Punctuation, motherfucker. Do you use it?
Jody Long (9:18 a.m.)
Eric is 10.
Trisha Levine (9:19 a.m.)
Wait Amber is not dead Shes behind me right now.
John Sarin (9:21 a.m.)
Can you see ghosts, Trisha?
Trisha Levine (9:30 a.m.)
Angels and Killers
Amber wasn't sure she liked keeping her very existence hidden, even if it was for the sake of safety. But her parents insisted, and she somewhat agreed. If the would-be killer learned she, Micaiah, and Caroline were alive, the three of them might not even wake up the next morning.
She'd been there late. The police hadn't pulled the tarp off the pool for quite some time, and when they did, Amber had seen them carrying someone away on a stretcher covered in a bloody white sheet. Everyone else was dead. Amber couldn't quite wrap her head around that yet. She'd been in the same class as most of them for at least five years, excluding Ivy and Leeli, who'd been boosted up a grade the year before. All these people she'd known and grown used to were gone forever. What a strange thing death was. It held no bindings on people like Kitty Grant, but it took 20 other people so easily. No, billions of other people.
When Amber really thought about it, Kitty's life only confused her more. She'd been at the funeral and seen the casket buried. Sure, the casket had never been open, and the people who carried it didn't look like they were straining much, if at all, but it seemed like way too solemn an occasion to play tricks in. Had Kitty truly come back from some sort of afterlife, or limbo? Or was there some truth to what Kitty herself had confessed online not too long ago: that she was a cyborg. Technology might allow it, but to replace someone's throat after they'd been killed? To actually bring them back to life? That wasn't possible. Not as far as Amber knew.
"Hey," someone said from the door.
"Think of the devil," said Amber. She sat up on her bed and nodded to her desk chair. Kitty Grant smiled and sat. "Of course you'd know I'm alive. You work with the news or something?"
"No. I figured you'd get lonely," Kitty said. "I already visited Micaiah. How's your neck healing up?"
Amber touched the bandage around her neck. "Pretty well. I'll have a scar, but it'll heal."
"And your hands?"
Amber showed her. Her left pinky was amputated at the base and her ring finger wouldn't move independently. Scars were already forming all over both hands.
"That looks so painful," said Kitty, cringing.
"It's not so bad. How long will I have to stay hidden here, do you think?"
Kitty shrugged. "Until they catch that redhead."
"How do you know about that? That wasn't in the news."
"A certain foul-mouthed free runner told me. Said if anyone could catch a killer, it was me."
Amber raised an eyebrow. "You okay with people thinking of you like . . . well, a superhero?"
"I thought so. Do you have any kind of superpowers?"
"Apparently I'm hard to kill."
"But you're mortal. Right? You're not some kind of goddess or angel?"
"I'm no angel," said Kitty. She looked at her hands. "I'm entirely mortal."
Kayla was quite happy with her first snuff film. She made a few last minute adjustments—most notably, muting what she'd said to Micaiah after she'd supposedly died, erasing any sign of regret from that kill. She left her dialogue with Tay in. Alyssa would probably like that. She saved the movie as a .wmv file and waited. And waited. And waited some more. She thought to occupy the time. She'd left 22 people dead, 23 if Micaiah had actually died. The news seemed to think she had. Kayla wasn't so sure. It made her wet to recall her kills, but she didn't want to do it again. Horny as she was, she decided, she wasn't a sociopath.
If Micaiah had truly survived, she'd have told the police everything she knew. However, she was reasonably certain Micaiah didn't recognize her. Red hair styled differently and a complete lack of makeup made a bigger difference than she'd thought at first. She'd have to dye her hair again soon, or maybe move away with Bart and Alyssa under the guise of a family fleeing from a serial killer. Several families already were, so they wouldn't be an anomaly.
Bart entered the room beside her. "Ready?" he said.
"Just finished," said Kayla. "Actually no. Computer says ten seconds. Now fifteen. Now twenty. Now five. All right, now I'm done."
Bart looked around the corner and called Alyssa. She arrived half a minute later with her shirt already bunched up in her hands. "Bart, Kayla, get naked and get on the bed. Kayla, press play."
Kayla tossed her shirt and skirt aside. She opened her movie and dragged it up onto the big screen in front of the bed. It buffered for a few seconds, then started. Kayla joined Bart and Alyssa on the bed. Alyssa grabbed her breast. "You really are hotter as a redhead."
The first scene started. Kayla watched Kelsey shower naked for a moment before she saw herself step into the frame with a knife. The on-screen Kayla waited until Kelsey spoke, then put the knife in her head. Kayla felt Alyssa's hand on her crotch.
"Not a bad opener. Let's open you up down here too."
Kayla rested her head on Alyssa's shoulder and watched her film. She reached over and found Bart's hand already pleasuring Alyssa. So she let her fingers take a quick dip between Bart's, then ran two damp lines up Alyssa's torso before settling on her breasts. When Leeli died on-screen, Alyssa kissed Kayla.
"That was Fay Ryan's sister," she said. "Good job on her. Apparently Fay's got PTSD now."
"I destroyed her life."
"Yeah, that happens when you kill people."
Kayla felt numb for the next few minutes, but she started dripping again soon enough. Alyssa turned on the bed so her back faced Bart. She kept her eyes on the screen as her husband started spooning her. Kayla kept playing with Alyssa's breasts and Alyssa kept her hands on Kayla's cunt. Kayla came when the meat grinder scene came up. Watching Chika's head explode sent her into a series of convulsions. She kept her voice down so she could hear the movie, though.
"Best birthday gift in a long time," Alyssa said as Jamie's head and spine ripped away from her body in slow motion. "You're officially awesome, Kayla."
Kayla smiled. It might not last long, but she enjoyed Alyssa's approval—and her touches and kisses. She didn't love Kayla. Kayla didn't love her either. There was nothing but lust there and Kayla loved it. She had to keep Alyssa happy enough with her life that the woman wouldn't pleasure herself with Kayla's death, but if that meant making more snuff films featuring people she actually didn't hate, could she do it?
That meant Kayla had to get away, and fast. She couldn't just leave Summermount hanging, so to speak. She'd ended more than 25 lives and ruined hundreds more. She couldn't leave. Not until she'd made something right.
"Good God, Kayla," said Bart. "That was the fastest knife beheading I've ever seen."
Kayla let out a long breath, kissed Alyssa's neck, and enjoyed the movie to the end.
At Adrian's door after a night sleeping beside the pet store, Kitty heard a girl's voice inside. She went in. Irri Snowski sat at Adrian's computer in one of his T-shirts. She was typing, and fast. Adrian sat on a chair next to her. He nodded at Kitty and motioned for her to join him and Irri at the computer. Kitty sat quietly and looked at the screen. Irri was typing in the application Adrian used to code corelets.
"This is amazing," said Irri. "Kitty, have you looked at your own code yet?"
"No," Kitty admitted. "I don't understand a word of it. Corelet is confusing."
"It's not so hard, look." Irri pointed out a block of code on the screen. "This section processes what you see. See, it's got the same structure as the code your brain uses to process the same stuff. And this section over here. . ." Irri clicked onto a new tab. Kitty noted the scroll bar to the side grow smaller and smaller as a lot of text loaded. "This entire thing guides how you feel about cats."
Kitty smiled. "I never thought it was that complicated. I pretty much thought the code went like, 'if cat is true, init adorableness breakdown.'"
Irri stared in awe at Kitty with a dumbstruck smile on her face. "God, you're amazing. Adrian, how in the world did you do this?"
Adrian shrugged. "Some of it's her actual brain. That and her virtual memory is a bit more extended than yours at the moment. You've only been alive for an hour or so. She's been around for weeks."
"And any idea why my brain memories don't work yet?" Irri said.
Adrian thought about it. "Yeah, but I didn't think it would be too big an issue. Your neuromorphic CPUs—yours too, Kitty—their neurons only process one thing at once, but there are trillions of them jammed in there. A real brain's neural network does a bunch of things at once. But really, if you can actually remember things, Kitty, then compatibility isn't the problem. I'm not sure what it is."
Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Mind if I let you and Irri figure that out? And speaking of you, Irri, I didn't take you for the computer-ish type."
"Type," Irri repeated. "You do puns too. You're brilliant, aren't you?"
"I was computer-ish, apparently," said Irri. "Adrian says he made my corelets based on the overall impression he got from what everyone who knew me said about me. Did you know I wanted to be a pole dancer?"
"Yes, actually," said Kitty. "On the online news site, in the comments section, someone posted some pretty honest things about you. I thought they were lies at the time."
"What a dick," Irri muttered. "At least make me out to be an angel the day after I die."
"It was two days."
"Oh, that makes it all better."
Adrian put a hand on Irri's shoulder and a hand on Kitty's. "Angels," he said. "Let's go with that. If anyone asks, hint toward it. I'll spread rumors."
"Why not tell the truth?" Irri said.
"Because then twenty-three people would suddenly be lined up asking me to bring back their daughters or sisters, and I just don't have that kind of money. Unless the cops have some sort of breakthrough soon, that number's only gonna go up. Irri, you don't remember who killed you by any chance, do you?"
"A girl. Who I kissed. And her partner, who I didn't see."
"No details?" Adrian said.
"Not a thing—no, weird eyes. She had odd eyes."
Adrian looked at Kitty. "Do we know any lesbians with noteworthy eyes?"
Kitty shrugged. "Anything else distinctive about her?"
Irri shook her head. "I dunno." She put her forehead in her hands. "I'll see if I can remember."
"Oh," Kitty said. "I should have mentioned this earlier, but I have news you might want to know. Micaiah Miller and Amber Levine are alive."
"The news said twenty-three though," Adrian said. He nodded at Irri, who brought up the news page. "Yeah," he said. "Right there. Twenty-three dead, including the single employee working there that day. That means one girl must've been absent."
"Nope," said Kitty. "Twenty-four people were in that park. Caroline Leese was there, but the killer didn't even touch her. The news says she was absent. She wasn't.
Micaiah and Amber were both there and they both survived, but the killer tried to kill them both."
Adrian looked sideways at the screen, then at Kitty. "Why hide the survivors?"
"To protect them, maybe? I'm not entirely sure. Casey told me all she heard, but she didn't say anything about reasons."
"Casey's in on this too?" said Adrian.
"She is," Kitty confirmed. "At least, she's listening to things she's not supposed to hear. She seems to think I can stop the killer."
Adrian seemed to contemplate this. "I'm not sure how you'd do that," he said. "You don't have any more information than the police."
"Exactly," said Kitty. "I'm not a superhero. I'm just a person who likes cats."
Irri poked Kitty's arm. "Do you want to be a superhero?"
"No. I don't."
"But you do want to help people and save lives."
"Then just do what you want and ignore any tags you get. Your life is yours, not theirs."
Kitty still disliked that word.
Kayla lay, panting, on Bart and Alyssa's bed. She was soaked with cum and sweat and the movie had long since ended. Her limbs were tangled up in Alyssa's and Bart was in the basement, presumably making more manikins. He'd asked Kayla to join him when she and Alyssa finished up.
"I still wanna kill you," Alyssa said. "I still want to rip you open and take a bath in your blood. But if you can make something this great, I suppose I could keep you around."
"Happy to hear it," said Kayla. "Now you should show me your movies. I still wanna know how you killed someone with a plastic coat hanger."
"I'll show you that one first."
They made out for another few minutes before Alyssa stopped. "Didn't Bart want to see you in the basement?"
"I suppose he did," said Kayla. "You okay if I go?"
"Actually, I'm worried you'll steal my husband from me, you sexy little whore." Alyssa smiled. "Go on. I'm pretty sure you'll like what he's got for you."
Kayla got out of the bed and washed herself off in the shower across the hall. She dressed in a low-cut crop top and gym shorts, then descended the long staircase to the basement. Bart was there, predictably working on a new manikin. Kayla stood quietly and watched him for a few minutes.
"Fifty thousand per kill," said Bart. "And twenty-two recorded kills. That's one million, one hundred thousand dollars. Good job. You're lucky, though."
Bart tapped Kayla's shoulder with a knife she hadn't even seen him holding. "My employer wanted you dead. I sent him them your movie. That convinced them to both spare you and pay you in advance.”
"Wait, I get that money?"
Bart looked at her. "No, it's all going to charity. Of course it's yours. Your work, your money. It's on the table over there." Bart nodded to the table they'd killed Irri Snowski on. There was a suitcase on it. Kayla opened it to find the most money she had ever seen in one place, stacked neatly in several rows of $500 bills. With this, she could skip town, flee from Alyssa and the inevitable consequences of her kills, and live the rest of her life comfortably somewhere far away. Maybe Canada.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll put this to good use."
Bart woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of typing. He started to sit up, but Alyssa's naked body on top of him made it difficult to do so. So he stayed where he was and craned his neck to see what Kayla was doing on the computer. It was all text and a couple pictures he couldn't make out. It wasn't porn or snuff. He started to say something, but stopped. Waking Alyssa in the middle of the night usually didn't turn out well. So he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Kayla didn't stop typing for at least another 30 minutes. When she did, there were footsteps fading for a few seconds, and then a door opened and shut. Then there was silence, and Bart slept.
Alyssa wandered the streets of Summermount the next day. Now that Kayla's big killing spree was over, she didn't feel like abstaining from murder any longer. She was out for Kitty Grant and Casey Shaw, but she'd take Fay Ryan if she found the reporter somewhere, thereby eliminating the last of the Ryan girls. She fully intended to mimic Kayla's work on Leeli, just so Fay could feel her sister's pain for the last few moments of her life.
She spotted Kitty Grant first, along with another girl she didn't recognize at first. Kitty wore the same type of thing she always wore: a zip-up hoodie and loose-fitting jeans. The girl next to her, a blond, dressed a bit more fashionably in a halter top and miniskirt. The door in front of them opened to show a familiar blond-framed face. Alyssa blinked and looked again. Was that Micaiah? The girl Kayla had strangled to death? Kitty and the other girl stepped inside. The girl who'd opened the door looked left, then right, then closed the door. Alyssa had seen a red mark around her neck.
This made no sense. Just like Kitty, Micaiah had apparently died and come back to life. But the news had confirmed her dead. Then again, the news had confirmed Kitty dead for at least a week before she turned up alive. What was going on here? And who was the girl Kitty was with? She looked vaguely familiar.
Alyssa didn't know what to think, but she knew one thing for sure: Kayla had missed one.
The cripple, the cat girl, and the killer
Two weeks after the massacre at the water park, Summermount still hadn't quite recovered. Families were moving away from Summermount faster than Casey could watch them go from the rooftops. She pinched a car between her fingers and kept it there as it passed onto the freeway and disappeared into a tunnel. She looked down at her arms. She'd had the brace off since last week, and her cast was gone since yesterday. Despite—or perhaps because of—her prosthetic legs, she felt free again. Her knees no longer hurt when she made a bad landing, though admittedly, she hadn't tried anything too crazy since her accident.
"Up there, Casey?"
Casey looked over the edge of the building. Her dad stood twenty feet below.
Casey prepared herself for a lecture on how unsafe she was, jumping around rooftops and all.
"Can you come down for a minute? You can go right back up if you want."
Casey swung her legs over the edge of the building. She dropped a few feet and caught herself on someone's windowsill. She swung sideways and let go. Momentum carried her to the awning over a doorway, from which she slid to the ground. "So," she said. "Whassup?"
"We're leaving Summermount. At least until this serial killer leaves the world."
Casey shrugged. "Can we live in the country somewhere?"
"Yes, actually. We're leaving in three days, and we'll live with my brother in the country for the next . . . segment of time."
"Segment of time?"
"Yeah. Spend these last few days with your friends."
"Friend," said Casey. "Singular. Kitty Grant."
Her dad smiled. "Someone like her has got to be worth ten ordinary friends."
Casey smiled back. "Sure you're not just biased since she thought you were a fashion model?"
"Absolutely not." He paused. "Yes." He absently plucked at his tie. Casey rolled her eyes.
"What if someone catches the killer before we leave?"
Her dad thought about it. "I suppose we'll still pay Uncle George a visit. Unless you'd rather not."
"I'm fine," said Casey. "I'll go. I just wanted to know. Fuck, I hate rhyming."
Her dad held out his hand. Casey deposited a quarter into it.
"No matter what happens, I love you. I don't want to see you in danger. Don't do anything stupid between now and the trip."
Casey thought about it. "How about after the trip?"
Kitty Grant squatted in front of the megacat's alley and stared the beast in the eyes. The kittens didn't come out to her this time. They didn't eat any of the food she'd set out for them in the morning, nearly five hours ago. The food she'd set out for the past two weeks always got eaten, but slowly.
"If you weren't hungry," said Kitty, "then why in the world did you kill me? You're sending me mixed signals."
The megacat made its weird sonar blip noise. One of the kittens mewed.
"Are you even their mom? Or dad? You're not even really a cat. I'm not even really a human for that matter. I'm a zombie. Or an angel. Or a cyborg. A zombie-angel-cyborg. Are you a cat-lion-bird? A lion-dinosaur-submarine?"
"Do you have to stay in that alley? Your kittens could use some sunlight, you know."
Kitty tentatively reached for a kitten. The megacat's eyes shot from her face to her hand. She retracted it.
"Oh, come on. I love kittens. You should know that. All I was doing was petting them when you killed me. You jerk."
Kitty looked behind her. Some people were watching from a distance. No one walked on the sidewalk connecting to the megacat's alley.
"Do you just want to protect the kittens?"
"Don't you know that everyone in their right mind would protect kittens? You'd have to be a complete psychopath to harm a kitten. Do I look like a complete psychopath to you?"
From behind, someone said, "Maybe not a psychopath, but you're pretty crazy facing that thing again."
Kitty looked over her shoulder. Fay Ryan was there with dark circles under her eyes, wearing thick clothes. Her hair was a mess and she wore no makeup.
"I haven't seen you in a while," said Kitty. "Are you doing all right?"
"Better. You think you can get God to give me Leeli back? Or Buddha? Or whoever brought you back?"
Kitty said nothing. Adrian had been pretty clear about his financial situation, and she was well aware how much she alone had cost him. Irri hadn't been much better. They'd need another huge chunk of cash to even think of making a Leeli cyborg.
"Look, Kitty, I know you want to keep everything secret. Really. But if there's any time to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, it's now. More than twenty girls are dead and whoever killed them is still loose—and all we know is that a redheaded teenager killed them under someone else's orders. We could use a miracle. Or a competent police force."
Kitty looked at the megacat. "You've got it easy," she told the creature. She stood up and faced Fay. "I can't do a miracle. I can show you why—as long as you can keep a secret."
“You’d trust a reporter to keep a secret?”
Casey went to the megacat's alley to find Kitty, but she wasn't there. She went to ground level and immediately wished she'd taken earplugs with her. The cars whishing by beside her were so loud she wondered how anyone could stand it. She put her fingers in her ears and ran for the alley a few blocks away. Once there, she unplugged her ears. There were no cars here, and people were scarce. Casey saw the megacat staring at her from its alley.
"What?" she said. "You wanna go?"
The megacat stayed put. Casey tried to look around it. The kittens were all there behind it, but there was nothing else. No Kitty. No nothing.
"Hey. Animal. Where'd Kitty go?"
The megacat kept staring at her with its single eye and empty eye socket. It surely recognized her by now. Every day for two weeks, she'd been out here with Kitty and Irri Snowski, who was also apparently alive despite having her head chopped off and her body flayed. The megacat didn't look any more threatening than a half-skeletal cat-type monster should toward her, but she wasn't willing to risk her hand or leg or any other part of her to it yet. She wouldn't risk any piece of her to an animal that she couldn't get to sit on command.
"Sit," said Casey. She held a finger in the air. The megacat looked at it. It did nothing else.
"Fine, don't," said Casey. She backed away—something she did whenever Kitty wasn't with her. Where could she find her friend, if not here? Kitty didn't carry a phone as far as Casey knew. She returned to the rooftops and resumed her running. Now, she searched for Kitty. Her new legs let her run even faster. They were less precise, but sturdier. She could jump from higher places now. In some cases, this removed her need for ziplines, though she still wanted to use one. She wouldn't let herself do so again. No one could sabotage her movement if she didn't use them.
She spotted Kitty walking with Fay down below. They were going toward a suburb, where Casey would have to go on foot. She went to ground level. Thankfully, there weren't many cars around. A few passed here and there. Casey kept as far from them as possible while keeping Kitty and Fay in her field of view. She started walking on the grass as a car slowed down and passed her with the driver-side window rolled down. The driver stared at her legs.
"Twenty bucks and I'll give you a footjob."
"I'll pass," said the driver. Casey smiled.
"You totally don't look like a stalker right now."
The driver sped up and turned a corner a couple blocks down. Casey stayed on the grass just to be safe. Kitty and Fay turned left and crossed the street to Casey's side. She waved to them as she walked, and then something caught on her leg. It flew in an arch like she'd flicked a soccer ball, but it had hair and skin.
"Casey, what's that?" Kitty called. Casey watched it hit the ground and roll. She knew what it was. But she still squatted and turned it over. One dead yellow eye looked back at her, the other covered by warm red hair. Casey felt her back hit the fence before she even knew she was backing away.
"Casey!" Fay and Kitty called at the same time. They ran for her. Casey pointed at the decapitated head in the dirt in front of her.
"I found the killer," she said. Kitty picked up the head.
"I know her," she said. "I've see this girl's face before."
Fay stood back a few feet. "She killed my sister?"
"I guess so," said Casey. "But unless she took off her own head, we've got a bigger problem."
Fay took the head from Kitty. "The blood is dried," she said, "but she's not decomposing and she doesn't smell." She paused. She looked over her shoulder. She passed the head back to Kitty, took her phone from her pocket, and hit three numbers with familiar tones. She held the device to her ear. There was a sound like a tiny rock pinging off a piece of metal, a spurt of red, and Fay stumbled sideways. Her hands closed on Casey's shoulders.
"Run," said Fay. Casey felt something warm drip down her shoulder from under Fay's hand. "Run!"
Because I forgot to post yesterday, here's one extra.
The Killer's Killer
Kayla Connelly knew she should have fled to Canada by now. Alyssa had been strangely quiet for nearly a week and Bart was in the basement all day, every day. Presently, Kayla sat in front of the computer. She had headphones in while she watched the uncut version of her snuff film. She watched May's death over and over again, then Tay's, then Micaiah's. All three turned her on, but she kept her hands away from her sensitive bits.
"I'm coming home," Kayla said to herself, quoting May. Then she switched the clip to her failed murder of Micaiah. The camera only showed her face after she stopped moving, but Kayla remembered every word she'd mouthed. She'd been trying to endear herself to Kayla, and it had worked, for the most part. Micaiah was alive. No one else in the park was.
"Kayla," said Alyssa. Kayla quelled her jump and swiveled around in her chair. Alyssa stood in the doorway, naked and damp from a shower.
"You still watching that? We should make a new one."
Kayla looked back at the screen, where Micaiah was lying, apparently dead, on the ground. She paused the playback. "I wanna know some things before I kill anyone else," she said. She didn't wait for Alyssa to prompt her. "I'm killing these girls—all these girls. I'm taking their lives from them and using them to get myself off."
"And me and Bart."
"And you two, too." Kayla continued. "I kill them and they die. What happens then? To them, I mean?"
Alyssa didn't even hesitate. "We cut their bodies to pieces, fuck them all, then cook them, fuck them again, and eat them."
"Not that," said Kayla. "I mean, like, them. The person. Where do they go, if anywhere?"
"Hell," said Alyssa with a shrug. "Do you care?"
"Yeah. If I'm sending them all to hell to get tortured forever, I don't think I wanna kill anyone else."
"And what if you're just erasing their existence? They don't go to heaven or hell or anywhere in between. Just poof—gone. Their minds vanish, their bodies stay and we have fun with them."
"Somehow that's even worse." Kayla rested her elbows on the computer desk. "What are the chances they go to heaven? Or some kind of paradise or reward?"
"That's what I thought. I don't like that, though."
"You getting religious on me?"
"I wanna believe the girls I kill aren't just gone forever. So yeah. You know anything about religion?"
"You wanna convert?"
"Isn't it a little late for that?"
"If heaven and hell turn out to be real, you know which one you're going to."
"So why not just keep doing what you've been doing? If you're going to the same place anyway, just kill and enjoy."
"I had my fun. I'm gonna retire."
Alyssa was silent for a while. Then she said, "Are you sure?"
Kayla knew from the tone of her voice what was about to happen. But she couldn't go back now.
"I'm sure. Feel free to hit me with that chloroform now."
"Smart girl," said Alyssa. Kayla felt the cloth cover her mouth. She didn't fight it. She took a deep breath.
Kayla woke up to the sound of a saw whirring beneath her. She felt cold. She blinked the blur from her eyes and looked around. The first things she saw were Alyssa's naked boobs swinging in front of her. She felt her arms and legs locked in restraints. She turned her head. There was a stock around her head. She craned her neck to look up. There was a silver blade about ten feet above her. She felt air on her body and realized she was naked and suspended above the ground. Underneath her, there were kitchen tiles and a drain.
"Nice rack," Kayla said. "Sure you don't wanna fuck one more time before we do this?"
Alyssa brought a hand down from whatever she was working on and hit Kayla's face, hard. Something cracked. Kayla blinked, surprised. A slap shouldn't hurt so much.
The slap came again. Once more, it stunned Kayla. She didn't try to speak again. She watched Alyssa work on something over her head and out of her field of view. She worked quietly. Kayla became aware of something warm beneath her body in addition to the wind from the sawblade near her crotch. She couldn't see anything on the other side of the stock around her neck, but she assumed there was a stove of some kind.
"Smile," said Alyssa. She stepped back and turned on a video camera Kayla hadn't seen before. Now that she looked, there were two more on either side of her. She focused on Alyssa again until the woman walked around behind her. Kayla felt the wind grow stronger before anything else. She closed her eyes. The sawblade didn't hurt much at first. It just felt like a shock as it slashed her clit in two. When it ate into her crotch, she felt it in full. She screamed. The heat under her grew more intense to match the pain. The blade tore through her intestines after ripping her womb in half. She felt its wind against her spine now, but it never touched that. She felt an emptiness behind the blade as her guts flopped out in slimy glops. She felt her stomach turn and empty its contents out her mouth before it died to the blade. She felt a sharp cut against her sternum, and then the blade stopped. She didn't stop screaming right away. It didn't hurt so much as it scared her, and the heat was her next big problem now. She opened her eyes and blinked tears away. Alyssa walked around in front of her, and then she felt something like a wet paintbrush on her back. It felt good, minus the implications. Alyssa kept painting something over her, and the heat only got stronger. It got painful a few minutes in, and there was nothing Kayla could do about it. The brush went around to her ruined belly. Kayla yelped when Alyssa cut what remained of her uterus out, but after that, only the heat truly hurt her.
After a few minutes, she could smell her own flesh cooking. She heard sizzling, presumably as her blood and fat evaporated. Alyssa finished up with her brushing and left Kayla feeling wet and sticky, like the time Vivi had rubbed honey over her body. Kayla found herself screaming again not too much later. She felt something enter her ass. Her entire body turned around. She stared straight up at the guillotine blade now, and she felt the heat on her back. She still couldn't see anything below her neck. She saw Alyssa upside-down next.
"Where's the money?" Alyssa asked her. She held out a small stack of bills. Kayla smiled. She'd only packed $10,000 in her backpack. Alyssa slapped her again. This time, Kayla saw the piece of brick in her hand.
"Fuck you," Kayla said through frantic breaths. "My money."
"Roast like a whore, then. I'll find it on my own."
Alyssa left the room and left Kayla suspended over something hot with her guts drained out. She moved her jaw to make sure it wasn't broken. She wasn't going to survive this, but that was no reason to give Alyssa all her hard-earned cash. She doubted the woman even cared that much about the money, but the amount she made was enough to tempt anyone. She hung there, dying, wondering how long she had left. She'd be fine with any time, but she'd appreciate it if she could die by the guillotine rather than the heat. She'd always wanted to know what it was like to lose her head after she'd removed so many herself.
A few minutes passed. Kayla made a point not to scream, and even made funny faces at the camera. That got harder as the heat on her back got hotter, so she eventually settled for not screaming. She heard Alyssa's footsteps all around the house as she presumably searched for Kayla's money.
"You're not gonna find it!" Kayla called. "You can sell my laptop if you want, though!"
Alyssa's footsteps got closer. The door opened. Alyssa walked in, looking pretty mad. She grabbed Kayla's hair and pulled. "Where did you hide it?"
"I didn't hide it."
"Where did you put it?"
"In a box. Twenty-something boxes."
"Dunno. What time is it?"
"Then they're probably out for delivery."
"It's going to the families of everyone I killed."
Alyssa said nothing. She released Kayla's hair. She pulled a rope on the guillotine. Kayla clenched her teeth until the blade took her head off with a schluck she felt through the few bones she still had connected. She fell. The last thing she saw was Alyssa's foot rising to kick her.
Kitty half-dragged Fay toward the hospital, many miles away. Fay's phone was dead with a bullet hole in it and Casey had ran off in the other direction. A second shot went off somewhere behind them. Casey's voice screamed. Kitty looked over her shoulder. Fay's knees wobbled. She moaned and took her head off Kitty's shoulder. She'd left a wide splotch of blood. Kitty reached out for her, but she held out a hand and took a shaky step. She fell. Kitty caught her. She looked around, then picked a familiar house and walked toward it.
"A little further," she said. "You'll be all right."
She knocked on the door. When it opened, Kitty spoke immediately:
"Call an ambulance."
Kitty's father turned around, picked up a phone, and dialed three numbers. He waved Kitty in. She led Fay to the living room. Kitty's mom was there. She left for a minute and returned with a shotgun. Kitty smiled. Her mom nodded to her and went for the front door. Another minute later, her dad entered.
"Ambulance will be here in a minute," he said. He pulled the curtains on the windows behind the couch. "Miss Ryan, stay alive till then."
Fay gave him a thumbs-up and a weak smile. "It's not too bad," she said.
"No," said Kitty. "It's only a bullet to the head. Nothing to worry about."
"Since when did you use sarcasm?"
"I have no clue."
They waited a little longer than a minute. The ambulance took five minutes to arrive, along with at least ten police cars. Several more passed the house. Kitty's mom returned from the door.
"What in the world did you tell them?" she asked her husband. "Why are there so many of them?"
"Only what I saw," said Kitty's dad. "Did you let them in?"
In response, two police officers and four paramedics entered the house. They helped Fay onto a stretcher, then carried her out. One of the police officers stayed a moment longer and stared at Kitty. A memory came back. He was the last person who'd seen her before she died. She started to follow him out. Each of her parents grabbed one of her shoulders.
"Not so fast," said her mom, and drew her into a hug. Her dad did the same.
"Sorry," said Kitty. "I scared you, didn't I?"
"The whole dying thing?" said her dad. "Maybe a little."
"A lot," said her mom. "Welcome home."
Kitty cried. She hugged her parents tight. "I'll be back," she said. "I promise you. I'll be back."
She released them and ran out the door.
Casey had seen the shooter's face. It didn't surprise her as much as it should have. Alyssa Holmes had always seemed a bit off. Turned out she knew how to shoot a gun. Casey prodded at the bullet hole in the side of her neck. It wasn't bleeding much and she could still breathe, so she assumed it wasn't fatal. She wiped her blood on her shirt and kept running.
"Yo!" Casey called to Alyssa, way ahead of her. "You aim for the center of mass! Else you miss like a bitch!"
Casey knew she should probably run the other way and rejoin Kitty and Fay. She had the killer's name and face, and the police could chase Alyssa down much more efficiently than she could. Logic overtook her desire to be heroic. She stopped, turned around, and ran the other way. If she told the police what she knew, everything would be over. The killing spree would finally end.
Casey rounded a corner and ran straight into Alyssa. Alyssa smiled. Casey saw the stun gun in her hand, but couldn't move in time to avoid it. The shock ran through her body and froze all her muscles for what seemed like half a minute. Then it released her, and she collapsed, moaning in pain. Alyssa drew a knife.
"I'll take that pretty head of yours if you don't mind."
Casey's last unrelated thought before the blade sliced into her neck was an odd one: how in the world had Alyssa got behind her?
Kayla is kill.
Alyssa pulled the rope just to end Kayla's existence. She'd planned to cut off her head after the heat killed her, but that plan was down the drain. She kicked Kayla's head as it fell. It flew away and hit the ceiling, then fell again and rolled to a stop. Alyssa turned her body over on the cooker, then picked up her head. Her expression was blank. Alyssa slapped her. She didn't respond. Alyssa had a sudden urge to destroy Kayla's head, but she resisted it. She set the head on the counter and went back to Kayla's roasting body. She waited a few minutes, then turned it over again, reached up into her chest cavity, and gave her heart a pull. It moved, but didn't come out. Alyssa took a knife from the counter and cut it out. She dropped it in the tray by the side that held Kayla's intestines. She removed the redhead's lungs next, and then she went back and took out anything she missed. Now, Kayla could roast. Her blood and fat sizzled. Her meat was beginning to smell good.
It occurred to Alyssa that she'd have to hide this kill from Bart. "Don't kill my friend," he'd said a while back, or something along those lines. She could hide Kayla's cooked corpse easier every day as she ate it. Maybe the garage freezer? Bart never used that. Come to think of it, if she put it anywhere but the basement, he'd never find it. But she'd still be gone forever unless whatever brought Kitty back also took mercy on her. From her browsing history, it was pretty clear Kayla was planning on escaping to Canada. Was she going to do that with only $10,000? Alyssa didn't believe she'd sent the money away. Surely she had the rest stashed somewhere safe.
Her home. Her real home.
Alyssa left the kitchen to collect things: a stun gun she'd probably use on Kayla's dad and a suppressed USP she'd use if she found someone appetizing. Maybe Kitty. She could come back from the dead, but could she do it twice? Could she do it if her body disintegrated in stomach acid? Alyssa picked up a knife and her phone as well, then dressed for her mission: baggy jeans so no one could see the weapons in her pockets, a white T-shirt, and a jacket. She slid the weapons into her pockets, then went back to the kitchen. She turned Kayla's body over. Her skin was starting to turn brown and the smell was good enough that Alyssa almost took a chunk of meat. She stopped herself as she heard the garage door open. Hurriedly, she took a butcher's knife from the counter and chopped at Kayla's midsection. The half-cooked skin parted easily, and her spine took longer, but Alyssa successfully bisected Kayla's corpse. She unlocked the restraints and stuffed her bottom half in the kitchen freezer. Kayla's top half was harder to get in, but she managed it. She took the tub of blood and guts and dumped everything in the sink, which she covered with a cutting board. Lastly, there was Kayla's head. Alyssa took a trash bag from under the sink and tossed the head in. She slung it over her shoulder, turned off the heat on the cooker, and wiped down all the blood with paper towels. She left the kitchen and met Bart in the hallway.
"Check our browsing history," she said. "Kayla's been looking up Canada."
"Is that her head in that bag?"
Alyssa kept walking. "It's Jennifer Prannis' head."
"Don't kill Kayla," said Bart. "I'm serious. Don't."
"I won't," said Alyssa. "C'mon, her movie was great. I wouldn't kill someone who could make that."
Alyssa hurried out of the house. She considered tossing Kayla's head in a dumpster, but then she had a better idea. She checked her pistol's ammo. She had 12 bullets in the magazine and another 12 in the garage. She collected that, then drove away. She entered a suburb first. Three miles through that was the heart of Summermount, where everything happened. Alyssa tossed Kayla's head out the window before she got there. She rounded a corner and saw two familiar girls walking together: Fay and Kitty. Fay still looked like a mess, but Kitty looked normal. Alyssa parked around the block and left her car. She ran back and sat across the street from where she'd thrown Kayla's head. She saw Casey come down from the rooftops first, then caught sight of Fay and Kitty. Casey found Kayla's head first, stared at it for a moment, then shot back, horrified. Alyssa laughed to herself. No matter who it was, the reaction was nearly always the same. Kitty and Fay joined her a moment later. They stood around the head, passing it between each other, saying things Alyssa couldn't hear. She took aim, but couldn't decide which of them to pop first. Fay made her choice for her: she took out her phone. Alyssa aimed for her head and pulled the trigger.
Kitty ran. Her old brain told her she was an idiot for running toward the place the gunshot had come from. She didn't listen to it. This was the brain that thought "cool" was a great addition to her vocabulary, after all. Still, it had let her love her parents. She was glad for that. She put those thoughts aside and focused on finding Casey and the killer. She heard the rapid popping of a stun gun not too far away, but it was mixed with something else besides a scream—Casey's scream. It sounded almost like a taser from the continued popping after the scream stopped.
"I'll take that pretty head of yours, if you don't mind," said a woman's voice. Kitty rounded a corner and saw it: Alyssa Holmes with a knife in Casey's neck. Blood was only just starting to pour out. Casey's eyes darted up to Kitty's, and Kitty moved. She shot forward and rammed her shoulder into Alyssa's head. She heard a thud, but no crack. Alyssa yelped. Kitty groped for the knife and managed to get it lodged in her hand. She swung it at Alyssa. The blade bit into her upper chest. It didn't feel deep, and it wasn't. Alyssa managed to get to her feet. Kitty followed her up and swung a fist at her face. Alyssa ducked it, then turned around and ran. Kitty opened her hand. The knife stayed in, but no blood flowed. Kitty shook it out and looked at Casey's neck. It was soaked in blood and the rest of her body was still shaking from the shock.
"No . . ." Kitty said. "Don't die now."
"What?" Casey said. "I'm alive. I just can't get up . . . and fuck, this hurts. You got a Band-Aid?"
Kitty smiled. She tore off one of Casey's hoodie sleeves and tied it around her neck. Casey gave her thanks and, after a minute or so, got to her feet.
"Christ," she said. "I got stun gunned before, but that was something else. Like half taser or something?"
Kitty quickly Googled "half-taser" and came up with nothing relevant. She shrugged. "You know your weapons better than I do. Stay here. I'll catch Alyssa."
She darted off after Alyssa. She heard metal on pavement and looked behind her just as Casey sailed past.
"Casey, stay!" Kitty shouted over the wind and Casey's footsteps.
"I do what I want."
"You want to die?"
"No, but I don't want you to either!"
"Just go get the police! They had three whole departments at my house."
"Fuck no. I wanna do this."
Kitty gritted her teeth and kept running. Casey was going to die if she came along—one bullet to the head would take her out unless she had a phone as thick as Fay's to shield herself with at exactly the right time. Even then, the bullet would probably hit her. Alyssa could also shoot at her torso and almost surely kill her. Casey wasn't thinking straight, but Kitty didn't want to lose any more time trying to stop her. The police at Kitty's house was undoubtedly better-suited for stopping a woman with weapons, but they were at least a mile behind now, and Alyssa was getting away.
"Stay behind me, then," Kitty said.
"You're only human—a bullet will kill you."
"And not you?"
"I'm not human."
Silence followed, broken by Casey's metallic footsteps. She dropped back behind Kitty and kept going. Kitty jumped onto a dumpster, and then onto a stairwell going up an apartment, taking a page from Casey's book. She went up and up and came to the roof.
"There!" Casey said. She pointed to a figure on a rooftop far away. "Dumb bitch. These are my rooftops."
Kitty took off after her. "Left here!" said Casey. Kitty went left. "Up the boards, not the pipes," Casey said. Kitty followed orders. Casey continued giving directions. Alyssa's figure drew closer and closer.
In retrospect, Alyssa should have hidden in an empty apartment. Below her, she could see swarms of men in blue with riot shields, snipers, and assault rifles. Up here on the rooftops, she was in Casey's domain. She considered shooting the girls running after her, but every time she had a clear shot, they'd both move into a less clear spot. Kitty was in the lead, and she seemed a bit too reckless. Alyssa fired at her once, and she was sure she hit, but nothing happened. Kitty just kept running without even slowing down. There was no blood, either. She had to have missed, then. Remembering her scant ammunition, she focused on running and looked for a hiding place. But the girls were getting closer. She could shoot them both, but then the police would know where she was. One shot with a suppressed pistol was probably hard to locate, but it would set any pursuers in the right direction. Two shots would essentially let them pinpoint her. She'd wait until they were closer.
This had happened before, around 10 years ago, but no one had seen her face then. It was a stroke of luck—or two girls' stupidity—that the only two people who had seen her face had chosen to chase her instead of go to the police. Why were there so many, anyway?
Alyssa saw what she was looking for before too long. She checked over her shoulder, then jumped off the edge of a building. She landed on someone's balcony and entered the hotel room, closing the door behind her. The shower was running and there was a porno playing on the TV. Alyssa left the room and took the elevator to the ground floor. No one knew who she was yet, so she walked casually out the doors and turned right. There was a familiar house there: one she'd spied on a few times. She turned the knob on the door. It was locked. So she went around back, broke a window, and crawled in.
Kayla's house smelled like smoke and alcohol, but there were no ashtrays anywhere, and a quick peek in the fridge revealed no alcohol. In fact, aside from the smell, the house was surprisingly clean. Alyssa entered Kayla's room. The first thing she saw was a piece of paper on the bed. She picked it up.
I'm the Summermount Slaughterer. I killed all the girls in the water park and more. I'm sorry. I was paid a lot of money to do it, and I sent all the money anonymously to the families of the girls. That doesn't justify what I did, but it makes me feel a little better about it. If you're reading this, I'm dead. My suicide was assisted by a very willing party. She'll probably cook me and eat me, so you won't have any remains to bury. My sketchbooks have things in them you don't want to see. Just give them to the police so they can deconstruct my psychology or something. I'm not insane. I'm just fucked up. I was really happy when you stopped drinking for me. I wish I could have never killed in the first place for you in return. I liked it at first, but as I went on, I started realizing I was actually killing humans. Isn't it stupid how it took me twenty kills to realize that? One girl I killed prayed after I put a knife through her neck. I can only hope she's in heaven, but if she is, then where am I right now? I definitely don't deserve paradise. I don't deserve anything less than a death twice as painful as the ones I caused.
I didn't kill anyone by myself. I killed with, or with the help of, Alyssa Holmes and Bart Dresden. Alyssa killed me. She probably only realized afterward that it was assisted suicide, though. If she hadn't killed me, I'd have run to Canada and taken this note with me.
Don't let my death affect you. You quit drinking cold turkey—that's awesome. Don't start again. You treated me much nicer than you ever have these last few weeks. That's the real you: the loving father. My life is over; yours is not. You're a great person, Dad. Show the world that you're better than your failure of a daughter.
I love you,
Alyssa put the note down where she'd found it. It ratted her out, but Kayla's dad deserved to know what happened to his daughter. She was right, too: Alyssa hadn't had any idea she was merely helping Kayla commit suicide.
She had to kill Kitty and Casey fast. Otherwise, her identity would get out and she'd have to spend the rest of her life running. She cut out her name and Bart's from Kayla's note, but left the rest intact. She stuffed the incriminating paper in her pockets and left the house through the front door and resumed her search for Kitty and Casey. As luck would have it, they were still on the hotel Alyssa had jumped off, looking for her. Unless they had super-sight, there was no way they'd spot her among the pedestrians . . . Alyssa stopped that train of thought. She looked around. She was completely alone on the streets. There was a siren coming from the town hall half a mile away. Alyssa heard heavy footfalls and ran back into the hotel, which was fortunately unlocked. She had 10 bullets left in her magazine. She'd only need two.
"She's coming," said Kitty. "Just went in under us."
"How can you tell from up here?" Casey asked.
"Super-sight. Get behind the door. We'll ambush her."
Kitty and Casey stood with their backs to the wall on either side of the door leading down to the top floor. Kitty heard a scraping sound. She looked over at Casey.
"What are you doing?"
Casey was scraping something against the tips of her prosthetic feet. She didn't look away. "Foot knives," she said simply.
"We're not trying to kill her."
"You're not. I am."
"Don't kill her. Come on."
"Fine. I'll just stab her legs and see how she likes it."
They waited and listened. Alyssa's footsteps soon reached their ears. They stopped just behind the door. Casey held her breath. Kitty would have done the same if she had any breath to hold. She quieted her cooling fans. She could rarely hear them anyway, so it shouldn't make too big a difference.
The door swung open hard. Casey cried out when it slammed into her. Kitty made a grab for Alyssa's neck as she stepped onto the roof only to find herself looking down a suppressor into the barrel of a gun. She hesitated for a moment too long. Alyssa got her in a choke hold and repositioned the gun to the side of her forehead. She positioned Kitty between herself and Casey, who had slammed the door shut and was glaring over a bloody nose and mouth.
"Let her go," Casey said. "You shoot her, I'll—"
"You'll get shot too," said Alyssa. "Right through your eye."
Alyssa backed up, pulling Kitty with her. Casey followed. Every time she stepped too close, Alyssa pressed the gun harder into Kitty's head. She got to the edge of the roof. Kitty couldn't look down from her angle. Ten stories below, she could hear the police swarming into the building.
"No matter what you do, you're not getting away," said Kitty. "Put the gun down. Please."
If Alyssa shot her, all the memories in her brain would be gone forever. All the memories of her parents, of her cat, of her childhood—they'd all get blown out with the bullet. She'd survive. A shot to the processors in her chest would kill her, but Alyssa wasn't aiming there. Kitty could sacrifice her memories to end everything right now and likely save Casey's life. Or she could stall and wait for the police to solve everything with a single bullet.
"Kitty," said Casey. "Do you recognize this place?"
Kitty looked around. "Do you?"
"I do." Casey smiled. "It's a place you're familiar with. Come on. Work with it."
Kitty heard a phone go off. Alyssa's arm around her neck disappeared. "Hello?" she said.
Kitty could hear a man's voice on the other end: "I found Kayla. Don't come back."
"Fuck you," said Alyssa, and tossed her phone off the edge of the roof. Her arm went around Kitty's neck again. "I'm taking you both with me."
The door burst open and the police arrived. Alyssa pulled the trigger.
Alyssa fired a bullet into Kitty's brain. Casey heard herself scream. She heard one of the officers shout something. She saw Alyssa turn to toss Kitty's corpse off the building, but then something odd happened. Kitty's elbow came up and slammed into Alyssa's nose. Casey's mouth dropped open. Blood ran down Kitty's face and a strand of her brain was leaking out, but she planted a leg and kicked Alyssa in the stomach. The killer looked just as surprised as Casey did for a moment, and then she disappeared over the edge of the building. She didn't scream. At least not until the end. Casey heard a wet snap as Alyssa’s body broke open against the pavement, and then a sound like a sonar blip rolled in with a cat's hiss came up from the alley. Then Alyssa screamed. Five police officers, a girl, and a cyborg stood completely still, listening. There was a tearing sound. The screams choked off. A crack, and a rip, and a spattering of liquid. Alyssa went silent. Six people stood and listened as the megacat ate the woman piece by piece.
News of the Summermount Slaughterer's demise spread quickly. Fay Ryan made sure of that. From her hospital bed, using a tablet the nurses had given her to borrow, she spread the word all over the Internet, and even started working on an article for her return to the news. Kitty sat beside her with a bandage around her head, and Casey sat next to Kitty with a similar bandage around her neck. Her parents were there too, and Adrian Winters as well, whom Fay had only spoken to via the Internet over the past three years. Irri Snowski, Micaiah Miller, and Amber Levine were there as well. According to them, they could stop pretending to be dead now that the people trying to kill them were gone. Irri, however, had a different story that she wouldn't tell, and looked at Adrian every time someone asked.
Eventually, Adrian got tired of it. He stood up. "Fay, write this down. I'm gonna tell everyone the secret behind Kitty and Irri."
Kitty lay in her own bed for the first time since her death. She was fully capable of staying awake for months at a time. She didn't want to. She didn't remember her family anymore, and since Alyssa had shot her, she hadn't recovered a single memory. Adrian had left her brain in, trusting the surgeons had done their jobs correctly. Kitty's heart was back in her body now, beating, but pumping blood mainly to an organ that didn't make much use of it. Kitty didn't want it gone. On the off-chance that she could use it and reclaim 16 years of lost memories, she had it put back in her body and attached to an improved artificial nervous system developed by some Italian scientist.
"Kitty?" said her mom at the door.
"Hi Mom," said Kitty. She sat up in her bed. Without turning the light on, her mom sat down beside her and hugged her.
"I'm so glad you're back."
Kitty put her arms around her mom. She wondered if her parents ever hugged her before she died.
"Mom, I don't remember anything."
"Don't worry. You'll catch on." Kitty's mom kissed her forehead. "You never grew out of bedtime stories—your dad and I told you stories every night until you . . . left. Are you crying?"
Kitty hugged her mom tight. It started with tears, moved into quivering, and then she was bawling. It seemed like such a petty thing to forget, but Kitty would have given anything she could give to remember the stories again. She sobbed into her mom's shoulder and didn't even try to stop. She felt her mom start trembling as well.
"Don't cry, Kitty. Please don't cry."
Kitty tried to calm herself down and managed to stop crying after a few minutes. She kept her arms wrapped around her mom. She felt herself slowly lowered into her bed.
"I'll tell you a story," said her mom. "You asked me to tell this one over and over again. It's the story of Baseball's first friend."
On cue, Baseball hopped onto the bed and sniffed Kitty's face. He curled up beside her, and her mom started the story.
Adrian programmed as quickly and accurately as he could. Tomorrow, Irri would come help him, but she was spending time with her family, as was Kitty. Irri was remembering more and more by the hour. She'd mentioned a possible third killer, who nearly everyone suspected to be Bart Dresden, Alyssa's husband. He was gone and the police were hunting him down. His computer's history indicated he'd fled to Canada, but a note found in Kayla Connelly's room hinted that she'd done the Canada searches.
Adrian didn't try to comprehend everything. All he knew was that he had to make more girls—more angels, as he called them. There were more than 20 life-like manikins in boxes behind him, delivered anonymously, but with a note attached:
Use them well. I owe Summermount at least this much.
They were masterfully done, sculpted down to the last detail with frames that allowed them to take any humanly possible pose. Presently, Adrian had a manikin of Leeli, Fay's dead sister, propped up beside him. He couldn't get her brain back from the morgue, but he had her corelets all functional.
Fay had been the first to request her dead sister back, though her parents, as well as most of the other girls' parents, were more hesitant. Their souls seemed to be a common concern that Adrian had never even thought about. He'd just assumed the soul was a given with a living person, or rolled in with the mind, or not present at all. Regardless, several of the dead girls' parents had turned down his offer to rebuild them as angels. He had 10 girls to build, and their manikins were all there. Their brains would never be available due to the nature of their deaths and the morgue having gotten rid of the brains that were intact, so Adrian would have to make their corelets as convincing as possible.
It would be a lot of work, and was doing it for free. He'd refused to take anyone's money, even if they all suddenly had at least 50 grand to offer him—he insisted they use it to rebuild their lives—but Fay had got word out to more than a few component manufacturers of what Adrian was doing, and he'd subsequently received a lot of vouchers for free high-quality cameras, silicone, rubber, right and left-brain processors, and for some reason, several other computer parts the angels had no use for, but that he would gladly use to buff his computer and get calculations done faster.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in, Fay," said Adrian. Fay came in. She looked significantly better than the week after Leeli's death, even with her head and hand bandaged.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"Your phone connected to my WiFi when you got close."
Fay turned to the Leeli manikin. She touched its skin and said nothing. Adrian heard her sniff and saw her tears in his peripherals. He kept his focus on his monitor.
"Will this really be my sister?" she said at length.
"All of her? No. It's the exterior of her body and a recreation of her mind. She won't grow another year older, at least not physically. She won't even have a heart. Your sister is dead. I'm not reviving her for her. I'm reviving her for you."
"Can you make a new manikin for her every year so she can grow up properly?"
"I don't know," said Adrian. "I have a feeling I'm going to be extremely busy every day for the rest of my life. The girls who died in Summermount are a lot of work on their own, and I've already gotten requests from other countries to remake people. I didn't really understand the implications of what I'd done when Kitty opened her eyes. Now . . . jeez, Fay. You know how to program in Corelet?"
"I, uh . . . read an article about it a couple years ago."
"I'm going to start a company," said Adrian. "I can kind of bring people back from the dead as long as their brains are intact, and I can make artificial people from the ground up. Do you want to join me?"
Fay appeared to give it a lot of thought. Adrian sat and programmed for half an hour before she answered.
"I will. There are so many great things we could do with this technology. We could even prevent killing sprees like this one."
"I'm not sure about this, but what if serial killers could kill AI-driven manikins instead of people? You could code their minds to want to be killed. Call them something like guro girls or breakable boys"
Adrian thought about it. "That's crazy," he said. "What if people used that as a gateway to kill real people?"
"I don't know. I said I wasn't sure. But we're at a huge turning point here. The world is going to change because of you. You—or we—can guide that change."
Adrian grinned. He saved his work, compiled and ran everything. He counted the time left on the progress bar.
"I've always wanted to reshape the world," he said. A second later, Leeli's manikin opened her eyes. The joy on Fay's face would stick in Adrian's mind for the rest of his life.
Casey sat on a couch as her therapist paced in front of her. She played with her thumbs. He played with his beard.
"So no progress whatsoever?" he said.
"Not a fucking bit," said Casey.
"You've got a bigger mouth than you did at fourteen."
"What did you call it back then? A copying machine or something?"
Her therapist pointed his pen at her. "Coping mechanism. Some people use stuffed toys, some use animals—mostly cats."
"Dude, fuck cats. I just saw a cat rip a bitch to pieces. If I get a therapy animal, can it be a dog?"
"If," said the therapist. "Good dogs are expensive. What made you decide to come back, anyway?"
"I don't know how else to use the money people keep throwing at me. It's like I'm a celebrity for just being there when crazy shit happened."
"That's a better reason to be famous than most celebrities. I'm a little worried that you've only gotten into more dangerous situations after you stopped coming. First things first, there's your legs."
Casey bounced her prosthetic legs off the ground before remembering she'd sharpened them to try and kill Alyssa. She stopped before she hurt her therapist.
"Secondly, you saw Kitty Grant get her brains blown out and Alyssa Holmes get eaten by that thing in the alley."
"Yeah. That and I got a knife in my neck."
"Do you feel like any of those have compounded your trauma?"
Casey thought about it. "Well, last night I dreamed I was as Kitty's funeral and I woke up screaming. Then there's my usual stuff—flashbacks again, vivid daydreams and all that shit. The stuff you said you could fix."
"I said I could reduce it."
"You didn't say it loud enough."
"You're not making this easy on me, are you?"
Casey smiled. "Sorry. Coping mechanism."
The therapist walked around his desk and took something from under it. He held it up for Casey to see.
"A stuffed bear?"
He tossed it to her. She caught it. It was small, no bigger than her hand.
"Dude, I'm seventeen."
"Just give it a chance."
Casey looked down at the bear. It stared back up at her with big plastic eyes. She squeezed it. She smiled.
"That's not about to cure your trauma, but if you can take comfort in it, it will help you."
The Summermount News E-edition
Angels in Summermount
In the wake of the past month's murders, many things have happened. Two of the three killers are dead and the police are hunting for a third. Meanwhile, Adrian Winters has created a programming language based on Corelet that allows him to recreate the human mind with stunning accuracy. Kitty Grant, Irri Snowski, and now my own sister, Leeli Ryan, have this code running through them, with at least ten more planned. Winters has received thousands of requests from various parts of the world to resurrect lost loved ones, and plans to start a revolutionary company to fulfill these people's wishes. More on Adrian's company and artificial angels on page A2.
"I don't know what I've started," said Winters, "but I know it's important, and I know it's going to change the world."
When asked how he figured all of this out, Winters said, "Well, I didn't get to where I could simulate an entire human mind by sitting around and fapping all day. Honestly, this was an endeavor born of love. When my sisters died, I felt so powerless. All the time I'd spent studying and programming meant nothing if I couldn't help the people I loved. So when Kitty died, I stole her corpse from the morgue and built her an artificial brain to run off while I figured out how to reconnect her real brain. Now look at her."
Indeed, Kitty Grant is currently at TED to give a speech on her death and rebirth. She's promised to donate all the money she earns there to Adrian's company. More on Kitty's TED talk on page C1.
With the killing spree over, Micaiah Miller and Amber Levine have come out of hiding and revealed that they survived the massacre at the water park. More on their story on page B1.
Bart Dresden didn't read the comments of the month-old article. It had been Fay Ryan's last before she left the Summermount News to work for Adrian and his new "Angels" company. Bart wondered how far the police had chased his fake trail. He'd walked to the police station to turn himself in the day Alyssa died, but had decided against life in prison at the last moment. If he was going to die in prison, he may as well live free as long as he could. That might be a day or a decade. It might be more. It might be less.
He sat across the street and observed his very first target through the window of Summermount's community center. Her name was Erica Winters, one of Adrian's angels who represented a 15-year-old sophomore in Summermount High.
There was something about her that fascinated him, even more now than three months ago. She danced with her little sister, smiling along with all the other angels Adrian had made so far. From his vantage point Bart could see everything—she wore a white dress, shoulder-length blond hair and tan skin wet with sweat.
Dani twirled away from Erica and began dancing with one of the hundreds of guests. They walked out of Bart's line of sight. Erica waved at her, then hugged Adrian as he spoke to two important-looking men in suits with wine glasses. Bart turned away, picked up his bag, and left Summermount forever.
PDF can be found at the link below. I ran into some problems, having transferred the story from OpenOffice to Quoll to Word. If you see any nonsensical line breaks, that's probably why. Let me know if you find any, as well as any egregious spelling errors.https://www.dropbox.com/s/xg7vqb9oq7h2cae/SUMMERMOUNT.pdf?dl=0
So that's Summermount. What were your favorite scenes? What would you like to see more of in the future? Less of? Any other thoughts/comments/critiques? Keep in mind that I'm done with Summermount itself; unless someone else wants to take the characters and run with them, the story is over. I'll apply anything I learn from critiques or comments here to future stories (and that final fucking chapter of Queenslayer that I can't seem to get right).
I loved this! At some point it became more about the story than the gore for me (I prefer slower and more painful deaths to your quicker ones, but this isn't even a criticism as I understand that tastes vary), the characters were great and I found myself caring about what happened to them, which is a first for me in a guro story. The only thing I'll say is that Alyssa's death felt a bit underwhelming; I wish it had been more brutal and graphic, since she was so gorgeous and had it coming for such a long time. However, amazing writing overall, definitely not one I'll be forgetting anytime soon. c:
I loved this! At some point it became more about the story than the gore for me (I prefer slower and more painful deaths to your quicker ones, but this isn't even a criticism as I understand that tastes vary), the characters were great and I found myself caring about what happened to them, which is a first for me in a guro story. The only thing I'll say is that Alyssa's death felt a bit underwhelming; I wish it had been more brutal and graphic, since she was so gorgeous and had it coming for such a long time. However, amazing writing overall, definitely not one I'll be forgetting anytime soon. c:
Nice story there, Andlex. Love how the characters and the last massacre is awesome. I'm really waiting for your next stories.
P.S: How about story of loli massacre?
Nice story there, Andlex. Love how the characters and the last massacre is awesome. I'm really waiting for your next stories.
P.S: How about story of loli massacre?
Nice story there, Andlex. Love how the characters and the last massacre is awesome. I'm really waiting for your next stories.
P.S: How about story of loli massacre?
You may just be pleasantly surprised in the near future.
Master piece, I enjoyed it all.
At first I thought "just guro" then the story got stuck on my head and noticed this wasn't the ordinary story.
The Massacre, you went a bit psychological there, and I liked it.
The final third was like "omg what is gling to happen"
Does anyone happened to save Guro-Gals? I miss that series.
I loved this story, mainly for the detailed plot and the stuff beyond the lovely gore. Thank you.
10/10 andlex ^_^ Still a great story