UNKNOWN CALLER

Time to Float🔪

4. Time To Float.

Nato Jinsong.

"Welcome back dedicated listeners in WillBerry," those were the first words I heard as I opened my eyes, still a little groggy. Who knew that a long night of super sleuthing would have me out for the count. Sure, I was out a little past Sheriff Benson's curfew after my FaceTime with Tatum wrapped up, but I had definitely lived here long enough to know my way around a patrol car or two. I just hoped the killer didn't.

"I am the best podcast host in town," my best friend trailed on why I pulled myself out of bed.

"Because I keep shit real," I said in unison with her as I grabbed my phone to catch up on what I'd missed overnight. Hell, I could have slept through another murder with how out of it I felt, almost like I had been drugged.

"Turns out WillBerry's claim to slasher fame is getting a lot messier," said Tatum, the bass from the speaker shaking my windows. "The cops have come nowhere closer to finding the psycho responsible when the movies tell them exactly what they should be doing. I mean we have a suspicious friend group, a mysterious redhead who's obviously a red herring and a whole lot of secrets people want buried."

I narrowed my eyes at the last line, knowing, obviously, what she was hinting at. Last night, before things got a little hazy, we had stumbled across Wilma's double life, and we both had a feeling it was the big link that tied it all together. So why hadn't we talked about turning over the information to the police, or maybe we had? It was hard to remember.

"If you ask me," Tatum said, "The truth is going to be a hard pill to swallow, and it's only a matter of time before the past bite's or slashes someone in the ass."

                                           ***

Lillian and Zoe both slammed into me as we both headed down the stairs, it was Saturday, which in the Jinsong household meant something worse than the thought of being gutted by a killer.

"Family time," Lillian shouted at the top of her lungs, both brats wearing a pair of sparkly star leggings and a puffy butterfly jacket while they practically skipped to the door in sync, our parents already waiting by it.

"You know you two are as weird as those Shining twins," I said.

"Come play with us Nato," they both said in fake British accents before giggling and high-fiving each other.

Every weekend the Jinsong's went out to the most public places in WillBerry to at least put on the front that we were the happy family everyone else in this town was pretending to be. It was the only day a week Mom and Dad would put aside work to focus on their kids; but the timing also couldn't be more inconvenient. Some psycho was running around, probably plotting to kill all of my friends, and here I was heading bowling.

"You kiddos ready?" Dad asked, a forced smile on his face as he zipped up his leather jacket.

Even I could see through it. I imagined they both were only putting up this front for the twins. They were too young to truly understand what was going on, but between Dad's whispering, and all of Mom's late-night calls to her sources, I was sure my little sisters were starting to put something together.

"As ready as we'll ever be," I said, Mom rolling her eyes before pulling open the door and pushing us out of it.

The Jinsong bunch climbed into her Land Rover and got on the road. As we zoomed through the tiny, but also massive neighborhoods, it was easy to see that the paranoia had set in around town. For the first time, that I could remember at least, the rich people who had them, finally had their gates shut and locked. Whatever they were trying to keep out, an unknown that I was still wrestling with. I had to admit Mason's possible connection to Wilma didn't look good, but could the pretty boy and Roy's best friend really be responsible for murder?

DING.

Speak of the devil, my phone had just lit up with a text from the hunk.

Roy:
Been thinking about you.

A smile lit up across my face, one Lillian seemed very interested in as she tried, and failed, to take a peek at my screen.

Me:
You too, last night was weird, but it was great to see you.

Roy:
Tell me about it, the redhead was definitely a little out there. Wondering if she's just reaching for clout with this Wilma situation?  I mean, I've never seen her before.

It was one option I hadn't considered yet. No one knew anything about the mystery girl, or that she'd be making an appearance. It could be possible that a stranger had seen the case that was making headlines and wanted their five minutes of fame by saying things they knew would rattle people up. But even then, despite not knowing her well, a lot of what she was saying, especially after what Tatum and I had stumbled across, made a hell of a lot of sense.

Roy:
Anyways, do you have any plans today?

That text came after a few minutes of not replying, and I had to admit, my curiosity was peaked. Other than fooling around, Roy hadn't made much effort to show more interest in my personal life. I mean God love his big dicked ass, but the boy was about as dense as they came.

Me:
Just spending some time with the family, should I clear my schedule.

Roy:
Not yet, but what about a midnight swim at Lake WillBerry? ;)

My fingers hesitated on the key, breaking curfew by a few hours was no big deal; but midnight? I had to be pushing my luck here if I thought I could get away with that; but then again, this boy was so damn fine.

Me:
I'm down, send me the deats. Just don't disappoint.

Roy:
Perfecto. I promise, it'll be a night you won't forget. <3

Nikita Grey.

"I can't believe my paranoid ass is fucking doing this," I said as I walked up to the home in front of me.

Wilma's house seemed quieter now, eerie, a feeling I couldn't shake. What used to be a bright big house filled with vibrant plants and decorations was now stained by memories I couldn't shake. And normally, a rational person that cared about her mental health wouldn't want anything to do with it.

"But that's not exactly your mental state these days is it," I murmured to myself.

KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.

My hand had moved nearly instinctively for the handle before correcting myself and banging on the door instead. I wasn't used to knocking, it was usually unlocked, but I was certain it wouldn't be this time; and may never be left that way again.

"Who is it?" The question coming from Wilma's mom, Diane, her small, tired form opening the door before I could open my mouth.

Looking at the woman made me sad. You could see the grief in her face, the purple circles under her red eyes. The poor thing probably hadn't slept, and I definitely wasn't about to make things any better.

"Oh Nik," she said, before I could say anything back, wrapping her arms around me tightly and sobbing into my shoulder. I rubbed her back, a little awkwardly while she did so. I had never been good with feelings, hell it was probably one of the many reasons (other than the big one) why Pete and I hadn't worked out; but I'd allow it this once.

"I'm sorry Mom," I said, "I'm so sorry."

Diane was a second mom to me, always so kind even when her daughter wasn't to many others.

"Come in, come in," Diane finally said, sniffling as she tried to pull herself together. "Can I get you some coffee?"

I shook my head, "No, I won't be here very long, thank you."

Diane offered a small smile, before taking my hand and guiding me over towards the couch to sit.

"You really were a great friend to Wilma," she said. "I don't know what she would have done without you. I know she wasn't always the easiest to deal with-"

"She was my best friend," I said, cutting her off as tears filled me eyes and I gripped her hand. "She didn't deserve this."

"No," Diane said, her voice breaking, "she didn't. But we're going to track down the sick son of a bitch that strung her up like she was a damn piñata and left my baby girl like that."

The same son of a bitch that had probably hacked my teacher's email, called me and nearly killed me too in my own school just a day ago; but that wasn't something I was willing to admit yet. That wasn't what I was here for. I was here for answers, to help find the person who was doing this; and that started with the basics.

"There was a girl at that vigil last night, a redhead," I started.

"Becca," Diane said, "Becca Bennett. She and Wilma were always talking. I'm surprised she never came up; especially with how inseparable you two were."

Were, the word cutting deep even when it was far from the reason I was on this couch.

"What else do you know about her? Did Wilma ever mention anything about that diner she mentioned at the vigil? I had never heard of it," I asked.

Diane took a deep breath, "Wilma and her would head to Delilah's when Phil and I got into our little spats last Summer. You were in New York for that trip and Wilma needed a friend."

It was all coming back to me now (cue the music).

"Becca's not from around here, but has some family in town. She comes back every so often to visit, but I can't think of why Wilma wouldn't tell you."

It had to have something to do with the secrets Becca mentioned, right? At least that's the best guess I could come up with. Regardless, I had a feeling Delilah's was another good lead. Maybe tracking down that diner would get me a step closer to the truth.

"Nik," Diane finally said after a long pause. "I can see those wheels turning in your head. You're no detective, and you don't owe it to Wilma to track whoever did this down. I don't want you to get hurt too."

"You're right, I'll drop it," I lied. "I'm in over my head, I just can't wrap my mind around who would want to do this."

Diane shook her head, and then looked up at the ceiling, mouthing something I couldn't make out before standing and heading over to a closet and pulling out a box.

"I packed up a few of her things I figured she'd want you to have," she said. "I've seen you wearing a couple of them and figured you'd get better use out of them than we will."

She handed me the box, my fingers gripping it so tightly my knuckles burned. There was something I was missing here, I couldn't put my finger on it, but my best friend was more than just a box. I was going to find the answers, and this sick fuck, no matter how dangerous it might be.


Tatum Collins.

"All I'm saying is that if you spent a little less time with those silly podcasts of yours and more time fitting in you'd be having a better time," my older sister said to me as we pulled into the store's parking lot.

Ali was an hour away from her Julliard audition and needed an herbal tea from a special shop she went to in order to "prepare her voice." I had only tagged along to avoid being in my house alone, something I knew was a big no-no when there was a killer on the loose. The more people I was around, the better chance I had of at least making it to Act 2 of whatever this psycho had planned; and like I had told Nato last night it was only a matter of time before they struck again.

"Earth to Tatum," Ali said, waving her hand in front of my face for good measure.

"It's helping me work through some of the hard shit right now sis," I said. "One of your friends was butchered, blocks away. You'd think I'd be forgiven for trying to distract myself from the upcoming bloodbath."

Ali rolled her eyes, grabbing her sunglasses from the car's compartment as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"You're such a fucking weirdo," she said. "That bitch had it coming, she had eyes for my man; and probably pissed off the wrong bitch. Just because someone decided to slice her up doesn't mean we're all in danger."

"Funny," I said. "That sounds exactly like something the person who killed her would say."

Ali sighed out loud, "Believe me, after all of this attention that skank is getting this week I wish I had. I can't believe Mason's dad is making him be all golden boy for the cameras. It's so fucking annoying."

Mason's name struck a chord. My sister climbed out of the car and slammed the door before she could see the look on my face. Of the current list of suspects, it wasn't hard to see why he would be number one on most people's lists, especially mine. All I had to do was figure out his connection to JustForFans, but for right now, all I had to go on was a broken link and cryptic words from a stranger.

"Time for a best friend pow-wow," I said, before pulling my phone out of my pocket and going to text Nato, but a weird thing happened before I did, my phone rang.

UNKNOWN CALLER.

I wasn't expecting any unusual calls, but I had no reason not to answer it so I figured I would.

"Hello?" I asked, putting the phone up to my ear.

"Tatum, Tatum, Tatum," the voice on the other end of the line began. "You would think you'd seen enough horror movies to know not to answer an unknown number when a killer's on the loose; or did that not make your list of rules?"

My body stiffened, eyes looking around frantically as I hit the car's lock button. There were a few people out walking around so I knew I was safe, but I didn't want to take any chances. Hell, I even went one step further, looking in the backseat to make sure there wasn't a man with a mask waiting to slice my throat open Annie Brackett style.

"I'm flattered," I said, stalling, "You're an avid listener."

I quickly switched the phone to speaker while I began a search for how to track unknown numbers.

"What can I say," the voice replied, "I'm hooked. It's got a lot going for it: the tropes, the suspects, the gossip. Hell, I feel like I'm watching an episode of Gossip Girl, well an NC-17 version at least."

"So, what's your angle here," I asked. "Is this a pilot season of a mystery-drama series, or are you testing out another tired slasher flick?"

I had narrowed down the search results to a few different pages, most of them required me to have an app downloaded before the call came through, while another good chunk of them encouraged me to hang up and call the police immediately. The last option being something that had never worked in the movies.

"Slashers are so old-school don't you think?" The voice said, "I'm working on something a little bit more out-of-bounds, think Saw, with stupid bitches waiting to get cut up. There will be blood, but I'm cutting the plot twists."

This had to be someone who loved hearing themselves speak. It came across as a crazy mix of narcissism and asshole.

"The plot twists are always the best parts though," I said, finally finding an option that worked if I could keep them on the phone for a few more minutes, "How about we skip right to the reveal?"

The voice laughed, a thick distorted laugh that rattle my phone's speaker, "Tatum, by the time you and I get that acquainted I'll be gutting out your insides and stringing you up, and I promise, that'll come sooner than you think."

The line went dead.

All of my hope, and safety going right with it.

Roy McKay.

The sound of the water was calming to me as I sat at its edge. It was about 20 minutes before midnight. I knew I was a little early, but I had to get out of the house, and I couldn't wait to see Nato.

"Fine piece of ass," I muttered to myself, while tossing a smooth stone into the darkness.

It skipped about seven times before sinking beneath the dark waters. The sounds of bugs and the occasional gust of October wind filled the air. I had to admit, it was a weird choice for a night out; but the sooner I got the chance to see and talk to Nato the better. Not only had I been waiting to see him, but I also just needed to check on him and see how he was doing. If my best friend was falling apart, surely the guy that I was fucking had some things to get off his chest.

I pulled out my phone, intending to call and make sure we were still on tonight, before it rang. My fingers went to answer it instinctively before I even saw who it was.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Looks like someone hasn't been listening to Tatum's podcasts or the Sheriff," an unfamiliar voice said.

"Who is this," I asked, a little paranoid as I started to look around.

"Someone who's fed up with you people not taking this shit seriously," the voice said. "I cut up a bitch and you frolic around ready to fuck? You think you would have learned your lesson from last summer. It wasn't just the wind bitch."

"Listen," I said, a little bit more sternly, "I don't know who you are, you sick fuck, but I bench 225; and I fucking dare you to touch me."

"Good," the voice said. "That leaves more muscle to cut through."

Before I could get out another word I felt a sharp pain along my back, a sharp cold slicing so quickly it almost sounded like the wind.
"What the fuck," I said, grabbing my back and turning around.

A person, or what I assumed was one stood behind me. They were wearing what appeared to be a baggy Halloween costume and a mask that looked like it was pulled out of Squid Game. They were a combination that wouldn't typically have any impact on me, but it was the item they were holding in their left hand that freaked me out: a thick knife...dripping with what I could only assume now was my blood.

"Stay the fuck away from me asshole," I said, before shoving the masked freak and making a dead sprint for my car. My lungs burned, the realization coming to me too late that the only way back was through a thick field of trees I had zig-zagged through to get to this spot. I had given Nato some text directions in case he got lost, but it was me who needed to remember them now.

Even with me buying myself a little bit more time, it wasn't hard to tell that the person behind that mask was keeping up. They had to be someone athletic, a runner, a swimmer, someone who could hold their own. Even with the glances over my shoulder of the person trying to end my life, it was hard to make out in the dark just what they could look like.

"I said get the fuck away," I yelled again, pushing my way through the trees. I was sure some limbs were catching at my clothes and skin but I didn't care. The faster I could get away the better.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Left.

Several more directions against the howling wind and I was sure I had lost them.

"Fucking idiot," I whispered, before pushing my way through the last set of trees and making my way towards my car; and God did I have good timing. Right as I did I saw what I assumed had to be Nato's headlights in the distance; only about 15 feet away or so.

"Thank God," I said, before starting to make a dead sprint, only to be met with an overwhelming pressure as I was knocked off my feet and pulled back into the darkness.

"Please man, fucking stop," I begged.

The hooded figure, did not hesitate, plunging the knife into my right side once, twice, three, four, five times as I cried out in pain.

Then came the stabs to my hands while I fought to stop the blade. Once twice, three, times and I was forced to yank them away; the pain too excruciating, but not worse than when the knife finally met my stomach.

"Find that door and step inside," the distorted voice said, twisting the knife in while I grunted and pulling it out.

"The light will lead you in," they said, plunging it in again.

"Please," I said, my voice weak, "Stop."

"It's nothing personal Roy," the voice said, stabbing me for a third time, this time I was sure they had punctured a lung, "But letting the horny teenagers live is just bad for my rep."

I let out a final ear-piercing scream right as I heard the sound of Nato's car pulling up.

The final stab, and darkness came anyway.