Tick Tock

Life is a game of chase.

You’re the mouse being chased by death.

The cat.

You’re able to outrun the cat for a little while, but as you get older, weaker, and slower, the cat gets faster and stronger.

But there are some things worse than death.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The room glows a soft blue as the screen of my phone blinks on. 

I roll over, squinting to see the name written on the white text notification.

Victor

I instantly sit up, all traces of sleep disappearing. I swiftly open the phone, my fingers flying over the password keys. My eyes rove over the messages.

Victor: You up?

Camille??

Hello??

Meet me at the graveyard.

I blink in surprise at the last message. The graveyard.

Camille: Why?

Victor: Surprise :)

I hop off the bed, quickly slipping my shoes on before I exit the door.

The world feels eerily quiet as I walk along the deserted road. There is no wind to rustle the leaves, no squirrels to throw acorns to the ground; even my shoes make no sound over the concrete.

I push the gate to the cemetery open; the hinges on the gate gliding effortlessly without a sound.

“Victor?” I call out quietly.

I jump as a sudden ding slices through the silence.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at the screen.

Victor: Warmer

Camille: Where are you?

I stare at the three dancing dots, waiting for him to respond as I carefully move forward.

Victor: Colder

I blink in surprise, swinging my head left and right trying to see where he is hiding.

Victor: Left

I pivot and begin walking to the left. I cringe as I step over the marble of a tomb, silently apologizing to the soul buried there.

Victor: Burning

I look up and startle as I see a figure up ahead. I pick up my pace as Victor comes into view.

“Victor, what’s this about?” I ask, chuckling silently at my earlier fear.

“Victor?” I demand again when he doesn’t respond. “Victor, answer me!”

“Vict-,” I gasp, my blood stopping cold in my veins as I notice the steady trail of red dripping from his chest.

I run up to him, ignoring the sound my feet make as they step over marble graves and the thunk as my phone hits the ground.

The world slows as I place my hands on his chest, tears streaming down my face as the warm liquid seeps through my fingers.

I press down harder, trying to stop the flow of blood. My ears feel like they've been stuffed with cotton, and the only sound I can hear is my thundering heart.

Suddenly, the world speeds up and I feel the blood pouring faster, staining my hands and filling the air with its iron stench.

”No, no, no!” I scream as I feel my heart shattering.

I hear the ding again and look down at my phone in horror.

Victor: Surprise.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

6 months later…

I walk down the linoleum floors, ignoring the whispers that trail behind me.

“Look, it’s Camile.”

“Isn’t that the girl who lost her best friend?”

“Best friend? I think you mean only friend.”

“I heard they were dating. Could you believe that? Someone like her and someone like him!”

“She barely talked when he was alive. Now, she doesn’t talk at all.”

“She looks like she hasn’t slept in months.”

“Camille?”

I blink. This wasn’t a whispered rumor; this was a question.

I look up at Mrs. Jean, the counselor. I’ve spent more time sitting with her in silence than I have with my own family.

“I was wondering if you would stop by my office during lunch; maybe chat?”

Someone snickers, but I just blink again.

“I understand how hard the transition can be after losing someone, and I just want to be there for you.”

I stare into her depthless eyes and wonder how much she truly understood about losing the one person who understood you.

Instead of voicing my thoughts, I just nod and walk away.

I block out the sounds of the whispers on the quick walk to my locker. As I open the bright red door, a small slip of paper falls out.

I stare at it for a moment before picking it up, my eyes dancing over the contents.

“It’s been a while,” I whisper.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I stare at the papers in front of me then at the watch on my wrist.

12:00 pm.

Mrs. Jean wouldn’t think much of my absence; I rarely attended her chats.

W, D, L, E, N, L, O, E

For the past six months, I’ve been getting slips of paper in my locker. Each one a clue, an event; most of them ones I had partaken in with Victor. It took some time, but, finally, I got eight letters.

 W, D, L, E, N, L, O, E

I stare at the letters, quietly rearranging them. A moment later, I get the answer.

WELL DONE

“Well done?” I softly ask to the empty room.

A soft trill plays, and I look around, trying to locate the sound. I pull out my phone and look at the caller ID, my pulse speeding up.

Victor

My eyes widen as a broken gasp leaves me. I stare at the phone, memories of that night fighting to get to the forefront of my mind. 

I tap the green icon and put the phone to my ear.

“Well done,” comes a raspy voice. “Want to play a game?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two days.

That’s how long I had to find Victor’s killer.

Two days.

That’s all the man on the phone said. 

No clues, no hints, nothing.

All the man said after that was that the answer was right in front of my face.

I look down at my phone again for the millionth time and am only greeted by a ticking clock. I’m not sure how, but the moment the line died, the ticking clock appeared.

42:31

That’s how much longer I had to figure this out.

I lay down with a groan, trying to ignore how truly terrified I am.

I have no clue where to even start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Camille?”

I look up and force myself not to glare at the frowning face of Mrs. Jean.

“I missed you at lunch yesterday,” she comments.

“I was busy,” I quip, my voice hoarse from lack of use.

She blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting an answer.

“Well,” she clears her throat, “if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where I am.”

This time, I don’t respond, turning on my heel and walking away.

I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at the screen.

23:16

I had less than a day to find Victor’s killer.

All throughout the day, I’ve been obsessing over what the cryptic clue could mean until it had finally hit me.

The answer is right in front of you.

When the man had hinted that, I had been staring at the note.

WELL DONE

If I am right, then I have to visit the places where I found each clue.

First up:

The graveyard.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

3:02

I have 3 hours left.

My feet fly over the pavement as I rush to the graveyard for the second time today.

I still have no leads.

I spent all day traveling to each spot that had been used for a clue, and…

Nothing.

I have found absolutely nothing.

The graveyard, the movie, house, the park, even Victor’s house.

All those places have led me to nothing.

Now, I shove open the gates to the cemetery, ignoring the spine chilling sound of the rusty hinges.

I could only think of one more place to look.

The first time I had returned here, the clue had been hanging from one of the branches of the tree Victor had been leaning against.

The second time, this morning, I had returned to the tree but found absolutely nothing.

It had almost been as if I could still smell the iron stench of his blood.

Now, here I am.

One

More

Time.

And there’s only one place the clue could possibly be.

Victor’s grave.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Thunk

I blink in surprise as my shovel hits metal.

There is no way that grave is six feet under.

I frown softly but cannot ignore the pounding of my heart.

5 minutes.

I whisper a soft apology to the headstone that reads Victor’s name before softly opening the casket.

The first thing that hits me is the smell.

It smells of decay and death, and I gag as it hits me.

The next thing I notice is that there is nothing to cause the smell because in the casket, there is no decaying body.

No body.

My heart starts into a gallop and tears of panic fill my eyes.

Where is he?

The soft trill of my ringtone plays and, with shaking hands, I put the phone to my ear.

“Time’s up.”