General Lee's Revenge--The Ballad of Bo Duke

Chapter Fifteen: Devil In The Mirror

(A/N: Second to last chapter pookies. Next chapter is kind of a long one but we're wrapping things up.)

Richard, who was sweating profusely, wrenched his suitcase open, dumping its contents on the floor, and splaying it open on his bed. Aptly, he ran to the open doors of his closet, grabbing clothes by the armful and shoving them haphazardly into the suitcase. A few moments passed as he tried to flatten them to fit more and a chilling breeze through his window ran a shiver up his spine. His strained gaze darted to the window and he ran to quickly go shut it. Window closed and securely locked, he stepped away and breathed a sigh of relief.

The hell was this? He was being paranoid. He had no reason to worry. Sure, Allen hadn't made it to the bus station, but that wasn't his problem anymore. For all he knew, he was in the clear. Hell, he was in the clear. So why was he so damn anxious to get out of there?

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, straightening his posture. There. He was relaxed. And out of danger. In his own home. He was fine.

A floorboard creaked out in the hallway.

He spun on a dime, looking out into the dark conduit of the hall. It was, as far as he could tell, empty. But his breath quickened nonetheless, heart pounding in his ears. Slowly, he stepped out, looking about adamantly. All was quiet and still.

Paranoia, he told himself. All paranoia. It was in his head. He was losing his mind... like Allen was. That's why he'd disappeared.

He glanced toward the painting on the wall above a lamp table. It hung just slightly crooked, making it seem as though the fair lady portrayed was tilting her head. Placidly, he straightened it, not giving it a second thought before moving on.

He walked to the kitchen where he'd left the lights on, going straight to the fridge for a beer. Working the cap off as he walked to the living room, he took a hefty drink and kicked his shoes off just before the hardwood of the dining room floor turned into the soft carpet of the living room. He slumped down in his chair, fishing for the TV remote. Taking another drink, he loosened his tie and his belt, and kicked his feet up.

The television flicked on and he immediately began to switch through the channels, stopping every so often to watch a program and determine if it was worth keeping on or not. Finally, he settled on a cheesy sitcom that otherwise would have bored him but he decided it was a good enough show to fall asleep to as any. He let the remote fall off the armrest of the chair and onto the floor, bringing his bottle to his lips. However, as he did, he noticed a small flicker of static on the TV.

Brow furrowed, he slowly lowered his bottle, finding that the TV had returned to normal. He heard a gust of wind outside and there was another creak from the house, which very well could have been caused by the wind but he was growing skeptical. Turning back to his TV, he watched the program, trying to stay settled in his chair but something was making him increasingly uncomfortable. It didn't help that an odd image seemed to be burned into the TV now, the outline of a man wearing a hat. In any other case, he would have ruled it out as needing a new TV but as the image grew darker and clearer, he knew something was definitely wrong.

The television screen began to flicker and show static until Richard, effectively spooked, bolted from his chair. The television set shook and sparked until, finally, it fell onto the floor and broke. But that wasn't all. As he backed his way back to the kitchen, he noticed that the whole house seemed to be shaking. Shelves shuddered, windows vibrated. The walls felt like they were closing in around him. His heart pounded in his chest. Finally reaching the kitchen, he went for a knife, however, found that the block was empty, all of the knives having stuck themselves in the floor or the opposite wall.