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Another part of the Quest for Mary series, along with a summer break. That's right. I've got summer break now, baby! And man is this gonna be great. It gives me plenty more time to work on the series. So, as you always have and always should, read this part. Cause in my restless dreams, I see that part... part 15.
Henry was staring at the back of his hands intently, nervously, as if he were a scientist examining an alien. Then he looked at his palms. And the back of his hands again. He looked as if he were bewildered, an animal in a trap. "What...the...hell..." He shifted his hand in all directions. "What the hell..."
Heather scowled at him. "What?! Did something bite you?"
He kept looking at his hands. "What...the hell...I have...5 fingers on each hand..." He counted his fingers. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5...and if I count both hands..." Everyone smacked their foreheads.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." Henry switched his eyes to the other hand. "6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12..."
"Uh, no, Henry. 5 fingers for each hand makes 10." Eileen explained nervously, wondering if Henry had got a concussion or had some sort of brain damage or maybe the mental stress of being chased by a psychotic serial killer had finally taken him off his rocker. "So you have 10 fingers."
"10...fingers...what the hell...I could have sworn there were 21..." He squinted his eyes.
"I thought you said there were 12." Heather scowled.
Nobody wanted any more part of this complete and total nonsense. "Alrighty, James, where do you think we should go?" Melinda asked the question for everyone else.
James looked around on his map. "We've checked out the gallows, the prison, the labyrinth..." He shuddered. "You don't wanna know what happened in the labyrinth." He kept skimming the map. "Well, if you were killed in the gallows, there's gotta be a graveyard...let's go there."
Everybody nodded, except Henry, who was completely consumed in the studying of his hands. He poked Melinda on the shoulder. "Melinda, do you see 21 fingers here?" He lifted his hands up.
"Wow, Henry!" Melinda shouted, a little too cheerfully to be real. "I think I do! But put your hands down so I can see them better." Henry put his hands down happily, as Melinda told him to. Out of nowhere, her fist flung out and hit him point-blank on the forehead. He blacked out and landed in a heap on the floor. "Oh, nope, just 10."
"Darn it, Melinda, can you last 10 seconds without hitting something-" James started before Melinda slammed her fist into his head and knocked him out, too.
"Whoa! That was so EPIC!" Heather screamed, barely able to hold back her happy laughter. "Melinda you're my hero you're so awesome you're amazing! You HURT James!" She did a little happy dance and hugged Melinda, who slowly stepped back.
Eileen rolled her eyes. "Some assassin you are. You can hurt your friends but you can't kill who you were hired to." She mumbled, accidentally in earshot of Melinda.
Melinda flushed a deep red and sighed. "...Ouch..."
Heather winked. "Don't worry. She's just jealous cause Henry secretly likes you." At this, Melinda blushed even more.
"Uhm...he does?!" Melinda was slightly shocked, and even a little happy.
Heather realized that she had no clue if Henry liked Melinda and that she could be lying. But now she was stuck. "Yeah, he told me so himself," she quickly lied.
"Oh, cool." Melinda picked up Henry and James' limp bodies. "Don't worry, I didn't hit 'em hard enough to kill them."
Douglas had successfully managed to skim the entire hospital for his rowdy teenage beast. And did he find her? Of course not. He had gone through the apartment, the hospital, countless demons and puzzles, for practically nothing. And it was beginning to go to his head. Anxiety was weighing down his poor old heart, and thoughts of her death were beginning to easily surface.
"HEATHER!" He yelled out at the top of his lungs, all of his energy pouring out, and a little of the fear, anger, and sadness that he had trapped inside along with it. He cried that name until he was wheezing and out of breath. "Hea...Heaaather..." He fell to his knees and eventually hit the ground altogether. He felt the cool fog and mist drifting against him, the hard, gore-coated pavement pressing against the palms of his hands. "...Cheryl..." He thought for just a moment that she could be dead, that he had gone through this for nothing, and that he would soon suffer the same cruel fate. But then he thought about the Heather who gladly showed off her battle scars, who took care of a cult, who killed a god.
"You're not dead." He stood up. "You're not dead." He repeated. "And I AM going to find you."
"Ow." Melinda muttered as Eileen stomped on her foot for the upteenth time, probably on purpose. She decided to fight back, kicked up her leg, and slammed her heel right on top of Eileen's toes.
"Ow!" Eileen yelled, lifting up her foot and hopping on one leg.
"Would you two stop fighting? You're acting like bratty teenagers!" Heather yelled, turning around and crossing her arms all sassy.
They both looked at themselves. And then they looked at Heather. Themselves. Heather. Themselves. Heather. Eileen smirked. Soon, Melinda did too. Then they both started chuckling. Then they cackled. Then they sounded like they were going to tear the house down with their laughter. "HAHAHAHA!"
"What?!" Heather angrily put a hand on her hip and one of her eyebrows hunched up as a strange song was heard coming from Melinda's cell phone. "Caipirinha caipirinha, whoa, yeah, bamboleo, mambolinha." Melinda gushed and growled while Eileen winked at her tauntingly.
She looked at her phone. "Jean McDonald's requesting a video chat."
"Who's Jean McDonald?" Both Heather and Eileen monotonously asked at the same time.
"The cop who hired me," Melinda explained, pressing the "answer" button on the screen.
A young woman appeared on the screen, hair a deep brown, the same with her eyes. She was dressed in proper police uniform, her pitch-black shades placed purposely on her nose so you could see her eyes. She readjusted her police cap. "Sanders. It is great to hear from you. I was hoping you'd report to me about the...eh..." She flipped through a file. "Sullivan case? Hmmm? Did you take care of our little problem?"
"Well...err...um..." Eileen gave Melinda an evil grin while Melinda shifted nervously. "D'oh...um..."
Jean rolled her eyes as she continued flipping through the file. "By that, I presume you didn't, did you, Sanders?" She slammed both of her fists down on the her desk, making everyone jump. "Sanders, this is one of the most dangerous and cold blooded serial killers we've ever had."
Melinda flushed. "I...I...I know, I guess I just..."
"No excuses." Jean groaned scornfully, her eyes glaring. "You promised to kill him. And I believe you're forgetting your pay..." She flipped out a couple hundred bills. "Kill the killer or become a bum on the streets like you used to be."
"But I-" Melinda stopped speaking. It was no use. She hung her head down, defeated.
"You need to kill this man, Melinda," Jean's voice had gone from harsh to understanding. "Don't you understand the fact that this man is hurting people? His actions have broken the hearts of so many people." She reached her hand into the file.
"What is she getting?" Heather asked, and Melinda signaled her to shut up.
Jean skimmed through the file a little more. "Aha. Braintree, Richard." She flicked out his picture, twirling it in her fingers. "Ended up chopped up by you-know-who. Sullivan. He's his 19th victim. Do you really want Sullivan to reach 20?"
Eileen gulped and whispered, "Me and Henry..we're next..."
"So you understand that you must kill this man. For the sake of families, future victims, you get the picture, Sanders. Now grab a gun and shove a bullet up his-" Melinda interrupted Jean.
"Yeah, okay..." She hung up the message and put her phone back in her pocket. A little more yelling came from the phone. "NO, MANDY, I TOLD YOU! NERO IS MINE!" It was Jean's voice. "Oops, I'm still on. Hanging up now." Soon, nothing was heard.
Henry's eyes slowly opened, the familiar, blood-stained scenery welcoming him. "Oh...what the hell...I feel like I just got owned by a girl..."
Soon after, James woke up. "Ohhh man, that was AWESOME..."
Eileen was practically about to wet her shorts. "ME AND YOU ARE NEXT, HENRY! ME AND YOU ARE NEEEEXT!" She grabbed Henry by his shoulders and burst into dramatic, soap-opera sobs. "I...I don't wanna die, Henry...I don't wanna die..."
Henry slowly rose. "What do you mean, 'we're next'? Next for dinner? I am hungry."
"No. Not dinner. Walter's finished up with 19...me and you are the last ones left!" Eileen whimpered before continuing her full-out tantrum.
James stumbled up. "Alright then, we'll bury you in the graveyard we're going to when he finishes."
That didn't exactly help. "AAAAH!" Eileen jumped up into Henry's arms. The hallway wasn't big enough for this much emotion. "Save me! I don't wanna die! I want to LIVE!" She slammed her head on his shoulder.
"Ow, stop it, Eileen, you're hurting me." Henry dodged another headbang and dropped Eileen on the ground.
Melinda burst out laughing, took out her phone, and took a snapshot of Eileen sobbing. "Aha. That is SO my new background picture."
"Oooh! Can I see?" Heather leaned over Melinda's shoulder and looked at the photo. "Aw, sweet!"
Melinda laughed a little more and recorded Eileen's cries. "Aha. That's my new ringtone." She put her phone back in her pocket. "And don't worry, I'll take care of Walter. You two just gotta stay careful while he's still alive. Because while he's alive, you can die." Eileen shuddered after Melinda stopped speaking.
"We're-going-to-the-graveyard-no-time-to-waste-so-I-can-check-out-graves-and-maybe-spontaneously-leap-into-another-hole-while-screaming-out-something-random." James blurted out the nonsense so quickly nobody understood him before moving on.
Part 15 may be over, but the fun is just beginning. If there is a part 16. Do you think there should be?