A Whisper in the Night
Author's Note- I know it's not Halloween, but there was this great idea, see, and I just had to write it! Enjoy!
PS- this is gonna be good! I recommend reading it all together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm gonna turn in early guys," Chris yawned. They were hanging out at the bar of the hotel they were staying at for the next few days. They just had a concert a few hours ago, and now they were relaxing with a few beers. Chris felt unusually tired and decided to head upstairs to bed.
"Already?" Joey asked. "It's only 10:30."
"Yeah, I better get to bed before I fall asleep here and you guys have to carry me upstairs." Chris teased, getting up.
"It's just cuz he's so old," Justin said, mischief in his clear blue eyes.
"Yeah, whatever," Chris replied, to tired to argue. He started to the elevator and heard the others tease, 'I'll be damned if I carry him upstairs.'
Chris smiled, but kept walking. He got in the elevator and pushed the button to the third floor as the doors closed. With a soft lurch, the elevator began its climb to his floor. Tonight he was sharing a room with Justin, and wasn't really looking forward to it. Justin was really close to him, but the kid got too damn annoying sometimes. That's how Chris got stuck with him, because no one else wanted to be kept awake all night by Justin's audible thoughts.
The elevator stopped and opened its doors, letting Chris out into the empty hallway. He dug through his pockets and found the keys to his room, 607. J.C and Joey were in the room to the right, and Lance, the winner of the coin toss, was by himself in the room on the left. Outside their doors sat bags of fan mail. 'How do they always find us?' Chris thought, picking up the bags outside his door. He carried them in and set them down on the glass coffee table before shutting the door. He threw the keys down next to the bags and turned on the TV.
Chris took his shoes off and sat down on the small sofa. 'That's the cool thing about these suites,' he thought. 'They have everything.' After a few minutes of channel surfing, he set the remote down and looked at the heaping bags of mail. Sighing, he pulled one towards him and opened it. A medium size package caught his eye, and he pulled it out.
It was wrapped in brown paper and addressed to himself, care of Nsync. 'Cool,' he thought, smiling to himself. 'Somebody loves me.' Chris pulled a Swiss army knife out of his back pocket and started to cut the clear tape that bound the package. He inhaled sharply and cursed himself when he accidentally cut himself. After inspecting the cut, he found it was only a small cut and ignored it. He remembered how his mother told him to never play with sharp things when he was a kid. 'Guess that still applies,' he thought, smiling.
After getting the package open, he looked in and pulled out an object wrapped in tissue paper. Chris pulled the paper off and revealed an ancient looking wooden mask. Confused, he looked for a note and found one at the bottom of the box. He opened it and read it out loud. "Dear Chris, I saw this at a pawn shop and thought you'd like the craziness of it. Please write back!"
"Hmm," he said, putting the note back in the box. He looked at it again, studying it in the light of a small lamp. It looked like something from a movie. One of the masks that weird tribal cannibals danced around fires chanting with. He smiled. "I like it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris woke up for no apparent reason. He pressed the button on his watch and it lit up, reading 11:11. Chris looked around and started feeling a little creeped out. 'I know I left the TV and a light on,' he thought. In fact, he didn't even remember falling asleep. He was in total darkness as he sat up. He reached to turn on the lamp, 'which I know was on,' he added in his mind, but nothing happened. Had the power gone out? He looked at the VCR and noticed it was displaying the right time. "What the-?" he said aloud, confused. Soft light from the streets outside forced their way in the hotel room, and after a while, his eyes adjusted enough to let him see.
"Justin?" he called into the dark. No reply. Chris's heart rate raised a little as the thought of someone breaking in crossed his mind. 'Okay, nothing to get scared about,' he tried convincing himself. 'Just because things got turned off while I was sleeping doesn’t mean someone broke in.' He got up, careful not to hit the coffee table as he walked around. He looked in the bathroom, thinking that maybe Justin was just in the bathroom. 'Then why is he being so quiet?' Chris thought, answering his own question before he confirmed no one was there.
Goosebumps were starting to rise on his arms and back as he crept around the hotel room. 'Nothing to worry about, right? Maybe it was just a small power outage. Or maybe I really did turn everything off before I fell asleep. So why won't they come on now?'
A shrill scream pierced the silence, sending his heart rate rocketing. It took him a few seconds to realize it was only the phone. Laughing at the stupidity of it all, he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey buddy, I'm coming home in a few minutes," Justin's voice slurred over the phone line.
"Where are you? I thought you were just down stairs," Chris asked, noting how drunk Justin was.
"We went to a street down the club," Justin replied. "We're leaving in a few."
"Okay, but if any of you drive, I'll strangle you," Chris warned. He was overly protective when it came to his friends drinking and driving. He glanced at the door, turning his attention back to the mysterious power outage. 'See?' he told himself. 'No one could have broken in, because the chain is still across the door.'
"Okay, whatever man," Justin giggled.
"Hey, Justin," Chris called, catching Justin before he hung up.
"What?"
"Was there a power outage a while ago?"
"Um…no, I don't think. Well, I do think, but not all the time. Wait, what was the question?"
Chris sighed. "Never mind."
After hanging up, he glanced back at the locked and chained door. Then he froze. His heart pounded again as he realized something. "I never locked the door," he whispered to himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris stared at the door, unable to move. 'Oh shit, oh shit. What the hell is going on? This is freaking psychotic…'
His heart was beating a hole in his chest. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights and having all it's muscles locked in place with adrenaline. He couldn't have moved if he tried. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his own ears. Forcing himself to move, he put all his energy into heading for the place he could feel safest, the bathroom.
When he was little, he always favored the bathroom as a hiding place because it was small enough for him to defend himself from imaginary monsters and mothers with medicine. That feeling of tight protection was always in the bathroom, even though he was often teased about it. The closet was too dark and his room too big. And hotels don't even have rooms.
He ran to the bathroom and shut the door behind him, locking it. A small part of him teased, 'You baby. There's nothing there. Now you're hiding in the bathroom like a little kid.' But the rest of him screamed, 'You sure as hell didn't do all that. There is a perfectly good reason for being in here right now.'
Chris tried to get his breathing under control before he had a heart attack. After a few deep breaths, he turned around and cracked the door enough for him to look out. Then his heart leapt to his throat.
Out in the hotel room, by the coffee table, stood a tall, thin white figure. It had long, wispy hair and a thin face with hollow, black eyes that stared right at him, looking into his soul. Chris watched the figure, not breathing. The door was only open a crack, but the figure was still looking straight at him. It seemed to glow, so that Chris could see it perfectly even in the darkness.
He blinked in amazement, and the figure disappeared. 'What the-?' He blinked again, but it didn't reappear. His lungs burned, aching for air. He gasped, slamming the door shut. Thoroughly freaked out, he sort of sat, sort of collapsed between the toilet and the wall. And there he sat, in a ball and rocking quietly until Justin came.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Chris?"
J.C. called into the darkness. He steered Justin clear of the couch and pushed him on a bed. Then J.C. turned on the lamp by the sofa and looked around. 'Where is he?' J.C. asked himself. The place looked abandoned except for some mailbags on the coffee table and a box on the couch.
Then slowly, Chris creeped out of the bathroom. He looked at J.C. with scared eyes and said, "Is there anyone here?"
"Uh, just me and Justin, but he's passed out. Are you okay?"
Chris looked around cautiously. "Can you look around for me?"
Confused, J.C. nodded. "Okay. Sure." J.C. walked around, looking in the closet and under beds. "What am I looking for?" he asked.
Sighing, Chris said, "Never mind. I just got freaked out I guess. You guys didn't put something in my drink, did you?"
J.C. grew concerned. "No. Will you tell me what's going on? Why were you in the bathroom with the lights off?"
"Something seriously wrong happened tonight," Chris said, taking a deep breath. "I fell asleep with the TV and the light on, and when I woke up, the were off and wouldn't come on. But the power wasn't off because the VCR was on. Then I noticed- wait, how'd you get in?"
"I used Justin's key, is that okay?" J.C. asked.
"No, you couldn't have used the key because the chain was on the door."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I remember because I remember not locking it," Chris said, his eyes getting wide again.
"Okay, um, did you have anything to drink, because you're kind of freaking out on me…"
Chris suddenly remembered about the figure he saw. "Then I also saw this figure out here. It was white, with long, wispy white hair and black eyes." Then, in a lower voice he added, "I think it was a ghost."
J.C. remained neutral. "You really think it was?"
"Yes! There was something here, I know it!" Chris became frustrated. Why was this so hard to believe?
"What do you want me to do about it?" J.C. asked. Something defiantly happened here tonight, but whether or not it was a ghost…
Chris looked to the floor. He felt so stupid. "Nothing. You can go now."
"Will you be okay?" J.C. asked.
"Yeah. I might even get some sleep tonight," he teased, looking at Justin.
"Okay. If you need anything, you know where I'll be," J.C. said, giving Chris a sincere look before heading out.
Chris shut the door behind his friend. He felt very cold, and very alone now. He almost wished Justin was up and being his usual annoying self. But for once, he was sleeping. Chris sighed and decided to go to bed as fast as he could. There was something about being under the covers that made him feel a little more secure.
Chris took his shirt off and decided to sleep in his tear-away pants. He crawled under the cool covers, letting his body heat warm them as he tried to sleep. Finally, Justin's soft snoring lulled him into a restless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a useless two hours of restless sleep, Chris gave up and lay with his eyes open. Visions of the ghost replayed in his mind, and freaked him out. He made up his mind to change hotels first thing in the morning.
He stared into the blackness, feeling his eyelids getting heavy. Then, something tickled his feet. He jumped, sending his heart in his throat. Slowly, the top of a snow-white head became visible at the foot of the bed. It kept raising up, revealing black eyes that blended into the night around it. The skeleton-like head had thin, pink lips and a small, pointed nose. It's hair floated around it, but there was no wind.
Chris found himself for the second time that night unable to move. He pressed himself into the mattress, watching, as the ghost raised up until it's whole fragile body became visible.
"Just-" Chris whispered, having to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing. "Justin," he whispered again. Why couldn't he talk, or scream for that matter?
The ghost moved closer to him as he kept trying. "Justin," he said. His voice sounded pathetic even to himself. "Justin!" he called louder. 'Wake up, please!'
The ghost started lowering itself on Chris, and he stared back at it with terrified eyes. Giving up on Justin, Chris screamed, "J.C.! Help me!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
J.C. jumped, falling out of bed. "Chris?" he asked. Lance had heard too heard the muffled scream through the thin hotel wall, and together they got up and hurried next door.
Luckily, J.C. had picked up Justin's key on his way out, not trusting the way Chris was acting. He pulled out the key and put it in the lock, opening the door. He switched on the light and found Chris huddled at the head of his bed, shaking like a blade of grass in a hurricane.
"What happened?" J.C. asked as he and Lance walked over to him. Justin groaned and rolled over, still drunk.
Chris looked at them with wide eyes. "I'm leaving," he whispered. He pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his suitcase. "This is shit. I'm not putting up with this," he muttered, jumbling his words together.
They watched as Chris started throwing his clothes in the suitcase. "Chris, calm down for a minute and tell us what happened," J.C. said, stopping Chris from running to the bathroom for the rest of his things.
"What happened? I'll tell you what happened I saw it. It tried to kill me and I'm not staying here one more minute." Chris took a breath after having spewed out his reason for being freaked out.
"Am I missing something?" Lance asked.
"He says he saw a ghost," J.C. said, letting Chris go and gather his things from the bathroom.
"Really?" Lance looked like he bought it.
"Yeah. Do you believe that?" J.C. asked.
"I believe in ghosts, yes," Lance replied. "And he looks like he defiantly saw something."
J.C. sighed. "Yeah, he does."
Chris came back and threw something's in his suitcase. He turned to leave when J.C. stopped him. "Wait, it's-" he squinted at the VCR. "It's 2:00 in the morning. You can't get a hotel now. Just wait until morning okay?"
Chris thought about it.
"I'll stay in here with you, how about that?" J.C. said. "I've slept in worse places."
"Really?" Chris asked, setting his bag down.
"I swear," J.C. said, looking Chris in the eyes.
"Okay," Chris smiled. "This will be like a sleep over."
"Yeah," J.C. said, rolling his eyes.
"I'll stay too," Lance said. "I want to see a ghost."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris woke up with a pain in his stomach. He jumped out of bed, realizing he had to pee. He ran to the bathroom, careful not to trip over J.C. or Lance.
Once he had relieved himself, he walked back to bed, a great deal more comfortable. After crawling back in his still-warm bed, he looked down at where J.C. had made his impromptu bed. Chris's heart skipped a beat, and he wondered how much monger this night could possibly be.
J.C. was not on the floor, where he should be. Chris quickly located Lance and Justin, who were still asleep. Chris heard a noise in the kitchen part of the large hotel room, and peered through the darkness to find J.C. pulling something out of the drawers. "What are you doing?" Chris asked, confused and relieved at the same time.
J.C. didn't say anything, but started walking towards him. "J.C.?" Chris asked again. He got out of bed, wondering if something was wrong with J.C. "What's wrong?"
J.C. stopped a few feet in front of Chris. An evil smile spread over his face, and he pulled out a small steak knife from behind his back.
Chris blinked; his heart and mind racing. "J.C., man, snap out of it. You're starting to scare me."
J.C. took a step towards Chris, forcing the older man to take a step back. Why weren't the others waking up? "Lance?" Chris called hopefully. "Justin?"
J.C. kept advancing, knife raised high and his smile spreading. Chris turned to run, tripping over his suitcase. As he scrambled to get back up, his felt the searing pain of the knife slice it's way down his shoulder. The last thing he remembered was his own scream of pain.
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Lance woke up, the sickening coppery smell of blood assaulting his nose. He blinked and let his eyes adjust to the black night. The sun was beginning to dawn, but it was still too dark to make anything out. He got up and found his way to the lamp by the couch. After turning it on, he looked around.
Lance gasped when he found Chris lying on the floor, covered in blood. It looked as if he was trying to reach the door, and left a trail of blood from his bed. Justin and J.C. were still asleep, and Lance started to panic. "J.C.!" he yelled, going to Chris. He turned Chris's limp body over, and found a deep gash on his chest, as well as one on his back. "Oh God," Lance whispered, resisting the urge to vomit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
J.C. woke up; remnants of a horrible nightmare still with him. He dreamed he was killing his best friend, plunging a knife in to the body not once, but twice as Chris begged him to stop.
He heard Lance yell and became aware of his surroundings. He felt sticky, and looked down to find himself splattered with blood. And it wasn't his.
J.C. jumped up, his heart racing. He noticed Lance bending down by the door, and looked to him. He noticed J.C. was on the phone, giving out the name of the hotel. Then he noticed Chris's body lying on the floor by Lance. "What the hell happened?" he asked, running over.
Lance looked up, then whitened at the sight of J.C.'s clothes. "Get away from him," Lance threatened.
J.C. realized what Lance was thinking. "No, I didn't do it," J.C. defended. 'Yeah, that's believable,' he thought. This had to look bad.
Lance quickly finished with the 911 operator and hung up. "I can't believe you would do something like this to Chris," Lance said, his voice cracking. Chris was pale, and he lay unconscious beside Lance. A pool of blood had swelled at their feet, so that they were standing in it.
J.C. looked like he would cry. "I didn't do it," he repeated softly, second-guessing himself. Maybe that wasn't a nightmare. Maybe he really did stab Chris.
Justin turned over, and this time he woke up. He blinked, trying to focus on the others. "What's going on?" he asked sleepily.
Lance looked to J.C. A flicker of doubt went through his head as he saw how upset J.C. looked. Surely J.C. couldn't have done this. Maybe he just over reacted. But them why was he covered in blood? "Chris was stabbed," Lance said at last.
"What?" Justin shook the last of his stupor off and joined the others. "Oh my God," he whispered. "Did you call 911?"
"Yeah. Can you get me a towel?" Lance asked, remembering how the 911 operator told him to apply pressure to the wound.
Justin got up with out a word and went to the bathroom. He came back with a towel, and handed it to Lance. Lance pressed it to Chris's chest, feeling the blood start to seep through. Lance looked at J.C., who watched with tears in his eyes.
The silence was interrupted by Joey, who knocked on the door. Justin went to let him in, and Joey turned on the lights, making them all wince. "What happened?" he said, seeing Chris.
"He was stabbed," Justin replied, looking at Joey.
"What? Is that what all that noise over here was?" Joey was stunned. He had heard some racket earlier, but just brushed it off.
"I didn't hear anything," Lance said, looking at Justin.
"Me neither," Justin replied.
J.C. remained silent, terrible thoughts running through his head. He couldn't believe he did this. Now Chris might die, and he was the killer. He couldn't breathe, and became overwhelmed with guilt as he ran to the bathroom, slamming the door after him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The guys sat in the hard, cold hospital waiting room chairs, waiting for news on Chris. A police officer accompanied them, and her name was Diane. Right now she hadn't arrested anyone, mostly because she was waiting for Chris's statement. Lance had avoided talking to J.C., and J.C. had avoided talking to anybody. He remained closed up, trying to convince himself there was no way he had done this. But it wasn't going too good.
A gray-haired doctor approached the group of people. The others looked up expectantly as the doctor began. "You all are here for Chris Kirkpatrick, right?"
Lance nodded, and the doctor proceeded, "Well, over all, Mr. Kirkpatrick is a very lucky man. He suffered major blood loss, but we gave him blood and plasma transfusions and he is now stable, and as far as we can tell, out of the woods. He's sleeping now, but you may go in if you wish."
The guys got up simultaneously, the officer following close behind. They gathered around the hospital bed, taking in how fragile Chris looked at the moment. He lay in bed, sleeping peacefully for the first time that night. The steady beating of the heart monitor highlighted his breathing, and his shoulder and back were bandaged.
"I still can't believe this happened," Justin said softly.
"I know. It's unreal, isn't it," Lance replied, not really asking, just stating.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris was unaware of the presence of his friends beside him. He was back in the hotel room, J.C. leaning over him, thrusting the knife into him…
Chris woke with a start, his heart pounding. There was J.C., standing over him again. "No!" he yelled, trying to get away.
Equipment sent off alarms as Chris panicked. J.C. backed up miserably, his heart broken. He really did do it.
Doctors came running in the small hospital room and inserted a needle in Chris's IV. A few moments later, he relaxed, and finally realized he was in a hospital and J.C. was looking as his heart had been ripped out. Not holding a knife and trying to kill him. The others were there too, giving him concerned looks.
"You okay?" Justin asked. A doctor moved behind him, writing something down and checking the equipment.
Chris nodded, still a little confused. His shoulder ached, but his heart calmed considerably. He needed time to think. Something wasn't right. J.C. would never do this to him, but Chris had seen him with his own eyes. He looked at J.C. again, seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. No. No way J.C. did this. It had to be connected to the- shit. He almost forgot. The memories of the ghost flooded back to him, confusing him further. His eyelids felt heavy, and he wished he could just fall asleep and make everything go back to normal.
Diane stepped forward. "I hate to rush this, but I really need to get a statement from you, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Alone."
The others melted out into the hall, leaving the two alone. Chris sighed as she began, "So can you tell me what happened tonight?"
Chris looked out in the hall and saw J.C. standing alone. He was convinced it wasn't J.C.'s fault. So he would have to make the biggest lie he ever told. To a cop.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris decided to wing it. "There were these guys. Five, I think. They came in the hotel room and muttered something. I couldn't understand them because they had ski masks on. But I could tell they hated me, cuz they dragged me out of bed. I tried to run, but that's when they stabbed me. I tried to get the other's, but they covered my mouth with something and before I knew it, I passed out." His heart was racing, along with the heart monitor. The cop remained straight-faced.
"How did they get your blood on your friends clothes?" she asked skeptically.
"They probably wanted to frame him so they would never be found," he replied.
"Why didn't they steal anything?"
"I told you they had a deal with me, not my stuff."
"There were no signs of a break in."
Chris remained silent.
"You know, you're heart is going a mile a minute."
"I got too many drugs in me right now, you'd expect that, wouldn't you?"
Diane let it drop. She knew he was making the story up, but if he went to court with it, it would stick. She watched his eyes drift shut, then open again. She would let J.C. walk for now, but she would be watching.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
J.C. took a deep breath. He decided he would turn himself in. He couldn't live with Chris reacting like that every time he was caught off guard. He couldn't live with Lance's accusing stares, or knowing that what ever happened this time could happen again, and he could hurt one of the others.
Diane walked out of Chris's hospital room and J.C. approached her. "I want you to arrest me," he said.
"What?" The one word question echoed around the room.
"You heard me, arrest me. I can’t live with myself knowing I did that."
Diane knew there had to be something up if the victim didn't blame the guilty party. "I'm not going to arrest you. Chris told me the story already."
"Well then why don't you arrest me?"
"Because he says you didn't do it," Diane replied.
"But…" J.C. was confused. He did do it, even though it didn't seem real to him. "Well then I'll turn myself in to a psyche ward."
"Whatever you want. But I'm not arresting you."
Lance stepped forward and placed his hand on J.C.'s shoulder. "Look, there's something more to this. If Chris believes you're innocent, then I do too."
J.C. looked at the others. He could read on their faces that they didn't believe he did it either. Maybe he didn't. But they sure as hell better find out what happened, and soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris steadied himself as he sat up. The room span, but holding on to the side rail helped. His back and shoulder were on fire, but he had to get up. He needed to talk to J.C. and tell him what he believed.
J.C. turned and saw him struggling and ran in the room. "What are you doing?" he asked, pushing Chris back down in the bed.
"I know what happened," Chris said, wincing as he lay back down.
"What?" J.C. asked. Anything would make more sense then what was swimming around in his head now.
"All this started when I brought that mask in the room," Chris started, closing his eyes briefly. "I think it's possessed. It took over your body and tried to… kill…me…" Chris's eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep in mid sentence.
J.C. thought about that possibility. Not what he hoped for; he preferred things a little more sane. But it was worth a shot. All they had to do was prove it.
J.C. went back outside with the others to think. 'What mask is he talking about?' He hadn't seen a mask. And he really didn’t want to go back to that hotel room knowing Chris's blood was piled on the floor. He hoped there was a good cleaning service at that hotel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lance and Justin helped Chris out of the hospital and out to the car. The world seemed to spin as Chris walked, causing him to walk in a diagonal. While the others found the humor in it, J.C. still remained quiet. New thoughts boiled in his head, about the possibilities of ghosts and spirits and such. He never found himself forced to believe in something before, and he wasn’t sure this was the thing to waste faith on.
They got in the car and headed back to the hotel. Chris had persuaded them to get back before night, because things just got scarier at night. He was now sleeping, leaning on the car door with his good shoulder. Just the fact that he was being so quiet and tired was a big change for the others, and they already missed the normal ball of energy that was named Chris.
They pulled in the hotel parking lot and noticed the hotel loomed now instead of stood. Joey woke Chris up, and J.C. kept his distance. They five young men made it inside and in the elevator successfully. When they approached Chris and Justin's hotel room, they all took a deep breath before going in. A normal hotel room greeted them, clean of all traces of blood. 'Damn they're good,' J.C. thought.
Chris walked over to the mask, still sitting on the coffee table. He almost dropped it when he felt it was warm. "What the-?" he mumbled, looking at it closer. The only colors on it were black, red, and the brown from the wood. It had been carved carefully, detailing every feature. The eyes were nothing more than holes, but they still seemed to hold a mysterious quality. Its thin nose was chiseled to a dull point, and the mouth was a slit near the bottom. The others had gathered around, taken aback by the primitive power it seemed to hold.
"Well I better get to working on this, while it's still light," Chris sighed, shaking all of them from their trance.
"I'll get my stuff and sleep next door tonight," J.C. said quietly.
Chris stopped him. "Don't. I want you to stay."
J.C. looked at him. "I don't want anything to happen again," he whispered.
"Nothing's going to happen. Trust me." Chris hated to use J.C. like this, but there was no choice. "How many times have I been there for you? I really need you now, don’t turn your back on me, especially after trying to kill me."
J.C. ducked his head and though about it. "Fine," he nodded. "I'll stay."
"Good," Chris smiled, patting him on the back. "Now I'm gonna get to working on finding out what the hell that thing is. It's not like we can just give something that dangerous to someone else. It needs to be destroyed."
J.C. offered a slight smile and joined Lance on the couch. Lance didn't move, and J.C. could tell he was secretly forgiven. Chris pulled out his laptop and plugged it into the hotel's phone jack. And so began his search.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I found it!" Chris exclaimed, waking the others.
They gathered around him and the laptop, squinting to see the screen. There was a picture to match the mask displayed on the screen. After reading, they learned it was made after a women from the late 1700's that was burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft. A ritual had been performed that trapped her spirit in the mask, killing everyone who was unlucky enough to come in contact with it. Except the five who had it now.
"What do we do with it now?" Lance asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't say." Chris sighed.
"Well wake me up when you know," Joey yawned. He went back to the couch and lay down, falling asleep almost instantly.
"Me too," Justin said, going over to his bed.
"Burn it," J.C. mumbled, going to the kitchen for a drink.
Lance looked at Chris. "That's a good idea, you know."
"Might as well try it," Chris sighed. The sun had gone done outside, and the streetlights were beginning shine through the windows. As he got up to turn on the lights, he looked at J.C., who was grinning at him, one hand behind his back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Not again," Chris mumbled. "Uh, Lance?"
"What?" Lance asked.
"It's happening again."
J.C. came closer, raising the knife as he approached Chris. Chris looked to Lance, who remained seated. Chris backed up, his heart beginning to race. "J.C., come out of it man. Fight it," Chris pleaded.
J.C. kept advancing, smiling. His face seemed empty, as if it wasn't really him. 'Of course it's not him, it's the ghost,' Chris told himself.
Suddenly J.C. lunged for Chris, who jumped back. J.C. grabbed his foot, pulling Chris down to the floor. With non-human strength, J.C. pinned Chris down and raised the knife.
Chris yelped at the bolt of pain that shot through his back. Where was Lance? He could use some help here. With a burst of energy, Chris brought his knee up hard in J.C.'s groin. J.C. gasped and stumbled back, letting Chris wiggle his way out from underneath his friend. Chris dove for the mask, and felt J.C. grasp his heel. Chris kicked, feeling the knife lunge into the rubber heel of his shoe. "You won't do it again!" Chris yelled, throwing the mask into the burning fireplace.
Immediately, J.C. dropped him. Then Chris sat back and watched as the mask caught fire. A screaming started echoing from the fireplace, and smoke bellowed up the chimney. In the smoke, a white figure appeared, taking shape of the ghost Chris had seen before. It smiled and completed its three-dimensional form.
Chris backed up against J.C. as the ghost slowly floated out of the fireplace towards him. It kept coming, stopping inches from Chris's face. There was a coldness that radiated from it, and it chilled Chris to the bone. "I am Sraeps,"(USE A MIRROR) it rasped, blowing its hot breath on Chris.
Chris swallowed, and that was all he had time to do before its hand shot out, grabbing him around the neck. Chris found himself without any air as the smoky white face pressed itself to Chris's. He tried to swing at it, but his hand cut through it like the steam from dry ice. Apparently the hand was the only part solid.
The ghost pressed its lips to Chris's, and he felt the air being drawn out of him from deep with in. He grew weak, and soon everything turned black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Chris woke up, he found himself gasping for air. The others had gathered around, concerned. "You okay?" J.C. asked.
"What happened?" Chris whispered his throat scratchy and sore.
"It was pretty cool actually," Lance smiled. "The ghost came out of the fireplace and tried to kill you."
"Yeah, that's real cool," Chris rasped, sitting up.
"Sorry I couldn't help you out there," Lance said. "I was kind of paralyzed or something. I couldn't move. I was trying to help you, but by the time I could move, it just disappeared."
"Really?" Chris asked.
"Yeah. So I guess that's the last of that," Justin smiled, handing Chris a glass of water.
"I wonder what happened to it," Chris said softly after taking a drink.
"Who cares? Let's get out of here," Joey smiled.
"I think I'll take you up on that," J.C. said, agreeing with the others.
~~~~~~~~
Finnis!
Epilogue:
Anyone outside could have seen the red smoke rising out of the hotel that night. Even in the dark, the smoke seemed to have it's own light, presenting itself to the New World. The ashes were carried with it, blowing in the wind.
They rode the wind all night, and quickly looked for shelter in the bright morning light. Gently, they floated down to the ground, landing in a parking lot. Magically, they reformed into the solid mask they had been for decades. Good as new, they waited in the shade of a bus until a muscular tattooed arm reached down and picked it up. The mask grew warm as the voice called, "Hey Howie, look at this!"
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