UNKNOWN CALLER

Your Number One Fan🔪

10.Your Number One Fan.

Roy Mckay.

I knew that this was the part in the horror movie, even as my boyfriend held me tight in his arms, that the main characters felt a final sense of security before shit hit the fan. Nato had snuck in after I got back, afraid to leave me alone after everything.

"Do you really think I'd let that psycho get anywhere near my ribs again?" I had asked as he climbed through my window.

"You'll always be my fillet o' fish," Nato had laughed. "But seriously, I need you as far away from the slashing as I can keep you, now get naked."

There had been a lot of kissing, while working around my injuries and then finally some cuddling. As I woke up and took in the sleeping boy, I couldn't help but smile at the fact that he had broken curfew twice to keep me safe.

"Wake up my Calm Moon," I said, rubbing his cheek.

Nato yawned, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light, before leaning forward and placing a kiss on my lips.

"Well that's one way to say good morning." I said.

"Gotta treat each of those like it could be our last with the killer on the loose," he said.

I winced, as much as I hated those words coming out of his pretty mouth, I knew he was right. It was only a matter of time before the killer's bloodbath got going again. The sick bastard had already targeted us once in the past 24 hours with plenty of witnesses so that obviously wasn't going to step them.

"Promise me something?" I asked.

"Anything," Nato said, kissing me again.

"Promise me that no matter what happens," I started, "No matter how tempted that little voice may be to do the stupidest thing in the world; you'll save yourself if it comes down to it."

Nato's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

I had seen it play out in movies hundreds of times. The love interest always sacrificed themselves at the last second to pull through and save the life of the one they cared about the most. I couldn't let that happen this time. I couldn't let Nato take that bullet, or knife at least.

"This isn't a Move Nat," I said. "It's your real life, and I couldn't live with myself if you let a killer take you out to save me. Promise me you won't throw it all away."

Nato sighed, "If I promise will that make you shut up with your nonsense so we can make out for a little bit before we go back to dealing with the real world?"

I nodded, smiling a big goofy grin.

"Fine," he said, "I Nato Jinsong promise not to be the stupid bitch in a horror movie with big dick blinders on."

That was good enough for me.

Ali Collins.

"And that's when Tatum was a complete badass bitch and ran his crazy ass over with her car," I said, explaining what had happened to Pete while Nikita and Tatum took it all in.

It turned out getting separated had made for quite a different set of experiences as the group sat along the couch in my house. The fact that was the most shocking, the guys having it easier than the would-be final girls seemed to.

"Jesus Tatum," Pete said, as I winded down several minutes of rambling. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Believe me Pete," Tatum said. "You haven't even seen my bad side. That son of a bitch had it coming, now we just need to figure out how he got back up."

"Why do we keep saying he?" Nikita asked. I had almost forgotten she was there, even though she had been the one to beg Tatum to actually run the killer's ass over in the first place.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We keep assuming it's a guy, but what if a girl is pulling this off?" She asked.

"That'd have to be some girl to take out all of these big guys," Pete said. "My money's definitely on a dude."

"Great," I said. "We're taking bets on a psychopath gender gamble now. I love how productive we're being today."

"I mean they have a point," Tatum said, always the first to disagree with anything I said. "We can't close ourselves off or underestimate whoever this is. They're counting on us letting our guard down."

"Speaking of letting our guard down," I said, before she could go on her monologue, "Don't you have somewhere to be today?"

Tatum looked confused for a few moments, before looking at her watch, grabbing her phone and bolting out the door; a loud slam echoed behind her when it closed.

"Well that was something," Pete said, looking over to the seat where my sister had once been.

"Some event for her podcast or something," I said. "She got offered a small meet and greet before all of this stuff happened and had to jump on it. She's been a little distracted but I know she's going to be kill it."

Nikita laughed, "Small is one word for it, have you seen her followers?"

Nikita held up her phone to show the whole group.

"This WillBerry murder spree has gone nuclear," Nikita said. "Even national news is picking it up. It's only a matter of time before there's a reporter on every block."

I rolled her eyes, fully aware that that situation would give the killer exactly what they wanted, publicity and attention while they slaughtered half the town.

"That memorial service," Pete said while using air quotes, "is going to get more innocent people killed."

And I knew he was right, it most definitely would. In fact, the more attention all of this seemed to be getting the more the killer seemed to be acting out.

"At least you'll get to escape all this at Julliard soon," Nikita said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Julliard," Nikita said. "You did get in right?"

I smiled, nodding my head a few times, "Oh yeah of course, I thought you were talking about something else."

Nikita gave me a weird look before shaking her head and moving on.

"Regardless," she said, "I think it's time we get ahold of Wilma's laptop. Whatever is going on has to be tied to her JustForFans page. As much of an obvious red herring Mason was, there has to be more to this story. I think someone is trying to throw us off the trail."

"But Sheriff Benson already has all of the evidence," I said.

"What are you suggesting Nik?" Pete asked. "We break into the Sheriff's office and steal evidence he already thinks one of us is tied to."

"Yes P.A.," Nikita said, "that crazy ass plan is exactly what I'm suggesting.


Tatum Collins.

Yes, I knew going to an event by myself during a killing spree wasn't the smartest idea, but as I pulled up to the comic book store there was one thing I was certain of there would be plenty of witnesses.

"Holy shit," I said, as my eyes wandered over the dozens of people, including reporters gathered outside of the store. They were all talking loudly and seemed genuinely excited to be there.

"You know, out of all of the things that should have stressed me out this week this is definitely at the top of my list," I said, before pulling my red hair back and climbing out of the car.

As soon as I locked the doors I was swarmed by fans, it was so bad that a security guard came over to shield me as I headed towards the front doors.

"Tatum what happens next?" One person shouted.

"Tatum what horror movie is the killer's spree following?" Another added in.

"Tatum who do you think is next?" A third sounded off.

"Tatum who the hell is the killer?"

That last question struck the hardest because I genuinely had no idea. Sure, I had my theories, but I couldn't dare share them out loud with someone going around stabbing all of my friends. As much as I wanted to keep shit real, keeping shit real in this case could get someone killed. As quickly as all those thoughts went through my head I was being pushed through the door and having it locked behind me.

"Wow," I said, taking it all in. There were posters of memorable quotes from my 156 podcasts (yes, I had counted) scattered across the walls and t-shirts on a table that I would obviously be sitting at.

"Welcome Final Girl," the man at the cash register said, giving me a smile and a wave. His name tag said 'Eugene' and as I looked at the tall nerd I figured that name suited him.

"Hey," I said. "Are you the guy I spoke to on the phone?"

"Yes," Eugene said. "We're glad to have you. Let's get you settled and then we'll open the doors for signings and the meet and great."
"Sounds perfect to me," I said, before heading over to the table, setting my stuff down and taking a seat.

"So, this is what this is like," I said, doing my best to defy my nerdy brain and sit normally.

Before I could think of anything else, I felt the steady vibrate of my phone in my pocket. Figuring it was Ali calling to wish me luck I ripped it out and answered it instinctively.

"There are so many people here Ali," I said, excitement obvious in my voice.

"Oh, I know," the voice on the other line said, chilling me to my core.

"Were those tires rolling over your ass not a subtle enough sign for you to fuck off?" I whispered into the line.

"Still so tough," the voice said. "Must feel nice and cozy in that chair, profiting of all of the people I've cut up. How about we do a role reversal?"

"You're not as scary as you think you are," I said, matter-of-fact.

"Maybe," the voice said, "but I can bet your ass will be sweating when I walk through those doors without you having a single idea. It's gonna drive you crazy, and keep you paranoid for every single fucking second. And then, when we finally meet face to face, I can't wait to see that look in your eyes when I'm plunging my knife into-"

I hung up my phone and slammed it on the table, Eugene and the security guard giving me a look.

"Everything ok?" Eugene asked.

I looked ahead, taking a deep breath while I stared at the now hundreds of faces gathering outside of the doors.

"I'll be fine," I said. "Let them in."


Sheriff Benson.

The Sheriff stood at his board and placed another red pen onto the new photo on its wall, connecting a new red string tied to a picture of Wilma Gardner to the new picture of Bernard Cross. He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around what exactly had happened to the man, but thanks to an anonymous tip he now knew the man had a connection to every single one of the suspects on his board.

"He knows the Connery's and Wilma and him shared a few secrets," the letter had said. "But the biggest secret can be found behind that bitch's web of lies."
It was that clue that Sheriff Benson was struggling with, even as he had handed the letter over to get dusted for prints. None of it was making enough sense, and if he didn't act soon someone else was going to die. He looked over the evidence that he had collected: the bag of Wilma's clothes, the murder weapon the killer had wiped and left behind, Wilma's laptop and a broken Gina box that had obviously been tampered with.

"This is hopeless," he said, opening the laptop. He had tried several dozen guesses from Wilma's parents with no luck. It was only now, that he was out of options that he felt like he had nothing left to lose and gave the stupidest action a try.

B-E-R-N-A-R-D.

His index finger hovered on the enter key after typing the characters, his mouth letting out a laugh at how ridiculous this was. Finally, he rolled his eyes and pressed the key; his mouth dropping open when it opened.

"This girl really did have a lot to hide," he said, as he began to scroll through the homepage. He saw several dozen random word documents before his eyes landed on a folder that seemed out of placed titled 'JFF.'

He clicked on it, the folder loading for a second before opening up to a long-alphabetized list that made his mouth drop open.

"Holy shit," he said. "I think I have at least one of my killers."