A Deadly Sorority (Book #1 Sorority Horrors)

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Brianna scooted across the leather seat until she was hip-to-hip with me. Her trembling knee pressed against mine. Patricia also scooted in closer until we were mushed together like sardines in a can.

Patricia grabbed both our hands, squeezing them tightly, she said, "Pray we make it out of here alive," her voice throaty and shaky, her brown eyes glossy with terror.

Suddenly, the car started to rumble. I gazed ahead and saw the madman climbing onto the hood. He pounded his fists into the windshield like a boxer in the ring, fighting his opponent.

The window cracked, and a squiggly line formed in the center.

We screamed.

"He's gonna get inside!"Brianna shouted, her voice cracking with fear, "He's gonna kill us!" Her eyes widened in sheer terror.

"Brianna, no, he's not," I said, meeting her gaze. My voice quivered with anxiety, betraying my attempt to sound confident. "We're going to be okay."

The man's mask nearly slid down his face. I caught a glimpse of his forehead and thought it looked familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint it. It was actually more of a fivehead, though. He caught his mask, and using his pointer finger, he slid the mask back into place and secured it onto his face.

"Let's try to stay calm," I informed with a deep breath. Trying my best not to tear up.

I peeked over at Brianna. She was hitting her phone with her hand, crying relentlessly.

"Guys, my phone is dead!" she cried. "Kayla, call the police!" Brianna instructed, her eyes fixed on my phone like a bee spotting honey.

My hands shaky as I clutched the phone in my hand. Gazing down at the screen, I scrolled my call log with my thumb and found Detective Johnson's number. I swiftly pressed down on it and put the phone to my ear.

I rang. And rang for what felt like an eternity until the call slipped into voicemail.

"Hello, you've reached Detective Johnson. I'm not available right now, so please leave me a message. If this is an emergency, such as a life-threatening matter, please call 9-1-1. Thank you, and have a good day!"

"Damn it!" I yelled, ending the call.

I hastily dialed 9-1-1 as the madman lurched on top of the car, jumping up and down on the roof with what appeared to be steel-toe boots.

Patricia screamed, her eyes glossy with fear.

Brianna continued crying harder and more intensely. Tears streamed down her face like a river flowing into a lake.

Just then, the madman jumped out of the car and fled on foot across the parking lot and into the distance. We all stared until his figure mysteriously disappeared out of our sight.

Brianna breathed a heavy sigh.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" A male operator answered in a stoic tone.

"My name is Kayla Collins. We're sitting in Officer Daniels's police vehicle!" I breathed, my words spilling out like a soda can flipped upside down. "The Crimson Lake Killer stabbed Officer Daniels in the neck."

"OK, slow down, please," the operator instructed. "You were directed to sit in Officer Daniels' vehicle. Is that correct?"

"Yes!"

"Where is Officer Daniels now?"

"I think he's bleeding out!" I cried. "He was stabbed in front of the vehicle, and he fell to the ground immediately."

"Can you check on him?"

I slowly reached for the door handle, grabbing it. I tried opening the door, but it was locked. I pushed against it with my shoulder, hoping it would budge, but it didn't.

"I can't!" I screamed, anxiety gripping me with its claws, "We're locked in the backseat of Officer Daniels' vehicle," I informed him.

"I'm sending officers and medics out there now," the operator responded.

"Detective Johnson and officers are already here!" I informed him, "They're in the boy's dormitory at the Cal State campus."

"That's fine." the operator replied, "Just sit tight and wait."

"OK."

Not long after, I spotted two officers running toward our vehicle. A chubby, shorter one was trailing behind a medium-height officer who appeared to have a muscular chest.

The medium-height officer reached us first. He swiftly opened the doors, "Hi girls, I'm Officer Keith. Are you all alright?" He asked as he tried to catch his breath.

We nodded.

I jumped out onto the pavement, feeling a wave of relief and happiness—until I saw Officer Daniels's body lying beside the vehicle, sift and flat as if he had already passed on. Blood was still dripping from his neck, trailing down the parking lot like water flowing down a stream.

"Officer Daniels isn't alright, though," I replied, pointing down to his body.

Officer Keith's eyes widened as he quickly kneeled beside Officer Daniels. Retrieving a pair of disposable gloves from his pocket, he put them on and placed his fingers on Officer Daniels's neck, checking for a pulse.

"Where the hell are the medics?!" Officer Keith complained, lifting his head to stare at us as if we had the answer.

I shrugged, "The 9-1-1 dispatcher told me the medics were on their way."

The chubbier officer stepped forward. His face was dripping with sweat as he was still trying to catch his breath and maintain his composure.

"I'll check!" he said to Officer Keith. He gripped the walkie-talkie that was secured on his waist, unclipped it, and brought it to his mouth. "10-33, officer down! Need medics, stat!"

A garbled response crackled through the walkie-talkie: "Copy that, over."

"Stay with me, man!" Officer Keith urged as he knelt beside Officer Daniels, the crimson pool of blood forming around his head.

Patricia sobbed, "I can't believe this is happening."

"Patricia, it's going to be okay. We're together and safe—that's what matters right now," I reassured her.

In the distance, I heard the sound of loafers slapping against the pavement. I immediately shifted my head in that direction.

"Detective Johnson!" I called out. I began to run his way.

Trying to gain his composure, he huffed and puffed, wiping sweat off his forehead with his forearm.

"Are you guys alright?" He asked through heavy bursts of breaths.

I nodded, "Yes! We're fine." I assured him, "But the Crimson Lake Killer stabbed Officer Daniels!"

Detective Johnson's eyes widened, and they quickly ran toward the scene where Officer Keith was awaiting the medics. I quickly followed behind Detective Johnson, returning to the scene.

"How's he doing?" Detective Johnson inquired with Officer Keith.

"Not good."

I stepped forward in between Detective Johnson and Officer Keith.

"Detective, what happened to Steve?" I inquired nervously, "What happened to him?"

Detective Johnson took a deep breath, "I'm not certain. But he's missing. We're in contact with his parents down in Florida. They haven't heard from him since yesterday." He explained, "However, we can't file a missing persons report until he has been missing for more than seventy-two hours."

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Where could Steve have gone?

Wherever he was. I was determined to find him.