Fun and Games, Chapter 12

Last chapter, finally!

Peter opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was that he was surrounded by plastic. It covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. He tried to sit up to see what was going on, but he couldn't move his muscles. He couldn't even look down. He looked down at his body as much as he could. He figured he was lying on some sort of table, tied down with plastic.

Dexter stood above him, staring down at Peter's tied figure in that way only Dexter can. His familiar scalpel was in his hand. He dragged the sharp edge against Peter's right cheek.

"Where's Paul?" Peter asked, only to be silenced by Dexter.

"You've caused a lot of people a lot of pain," Dexter said. He grabbed Peter's neck and forced him to look at the wall. There were pictures of all the victims Dexter could find pinned to the wall. "That's not all of them. There's more, isn't there?"

Then, Dexter grabbed a knife from his kill kit. He raised the knife high into the air. As it came soaring down, Peter weakly said one word, "Paul", and then it was over. Peter was dead.

Peter was dead. Peter was dead. That was the only thing on Paul's mind. They had lost the game. He had pulled the car to the side of the road and just sat there, stunned.

Then he smiled. The game wasn't lost entirely - he still had one trick up his sleeve. Sure, it was cheating, but he had to ensure Tubby lived.

Paul reached under the seat and pulled out a remote control. Then, he pushed the rewind button.

"Dex!" came the loud voice of Dexter's sister, Debra. She was standing at the door to Dexter's blood lab.

What now? thought Dexter. Dexter swiveled his chair around to face her. "Yeah, Deb?" he asked.

"We're having a dispatch meeting. LaGuerta says you have to be there," she said. Dexter got out of his chair and followed her to the dispatch room.

LaGuerta was standing at the front of the room, next to the screen. "Everyone here?" she asked when she saw Debra and Dexter enter the room. She nodded slightly as if agreeing with herself. "We can begin." "Last night, the 7-Eleven on 8th Street was robbed. The suspect is Greg Harris, born..."

Paul and Peter sat in a car outside of a small diner, waiting and watching the front door of the building.

Neither of them spoke. Then, something caught Peter's eye. A family of four - a mom, dad, and two children, a boy and a girl that both looked about twelve. "Look what's over there." Peter said, pointing in the direction of the family. "Can that be next?"

Paul frowned. "I don't think we should, Tom. It could prove... dangerous... to your health."

The family of four got into their blue minivan and drove off, the only car on the road. As that was happening, a group of six college-aged students was coming out of the diner. The males in the pack were obviously drunk, two of them whooping loudly while the third threw his arm around one of the girls. Regardless, they got into their car and began swerving down the road.

Paul started the car and followed after them. He turned to Peter and smiled. "Tom, it's time for some fun and games."

-fin-