Friday the Thirteenth
Chapter 12: "Tick Tock"
At some point during the pandemonium, Rei collected her wits and managed to divine out a flashlight, conveniently hiding within a drawer just inside the blackened kitchen. When she returned to the living room, Ami was throwing open curtains to let in more of the streaming moonlight while Mamoru called loudly,
"All right, very funny. Who was the genius behind this diversion? Come on, bring out the blood; the dead bodies. I'm ready."
"Mamoru-san..."
"It's a little redundant after the first prank, you know," Mamoru drawled, crossing his arms over his chest with an ornery scowl.
The Senshi stared.
"Mamoru-san, we've been here the whole time. No has left this living room for at least half an hour," Makoto reminded the frowning college student. Mamoru blinked.
"You mean... you didn't do this?"
Mamoru gazed around at the wide-eyed girls, some frightened and some adamant. But as one, the eerily illuminated faces shook back and forth in sober denial. Mamoru exhaled in a whoosh, truth finally sinking in. Makoto was right; this was no juvenile caper, only a freaky coincidence. He could tell they weren't lying. The power really had gone out. Mamoru relaxed his arms from their defensive position uncertainly as Ami sighed by the window, squinting into the inky backyard. Then the pedantic turned, gesturing to an object beyond everyone else's line of vision.
"The electric cords must have fallen out of their sockets. I wasn't sure I secured them properly anyway, the last time I was fooling around with the circuit board. Mechanics isn't exactly my forte," she admitted apologetically. "I can head out to the power box. It's located right near the shed, toward the end of the house. If I can just take Rei-chan's flashlight and-"
"No, I'll go. You stay," Mamoru interrupted, beginning to haphazardly throw on his clothes. "Looks like strip poker is now over; sorry, girls."
"Mamoru-san-"
"Don't fight me on this, Ami-san. It's late, and like you said, I probably know more than you do about power boxes and mechanical failure. I can handle myself just fine if any problems arise. You all sit tight until I get back," Mamoru ordered, inwardly concerned for the petite erudite over wild animals and electrocution. He knew he was far more capable than Ami, IQ of 300 or not. Were any of *them*-whiny and immature schoolgirls that they were- superheroes by night, gifted with supernatural strength and premonition-like intuition? He didn't think so.
Without another word, Mamoru stalked from the living room and, a dull resonation of the front door later, was lost to the Senshi.
"He didn't even take the flashlight," Rei murmured, looking down at the hot torch still in her hand, currently casting artificial luminescence onto a small patch of the carpet. She lifted the beam to magnify into the room.
"Maybe he left it for us," Ami shrugged, departing the window to go claim a spot on the sofa next to Makoto. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Probably doesn't even need it anyway. Hey, can I have my stuff back?"
"Yeah, I want my shirt, please," Rei sniffed, wandering over to the table and grasping up a crumpled pink pair of underwear by her thumb and forefinger. With disgust, she tossed it over to Minako. "Ugh. Spare us your unmentionables and put the panties back on, Minako-chan."
Minako caught the sheer lingerie deftly and tugged the lacy panties back on over her legs. "Meanie."
The minutes ticked by in lethargic silence, broken only by the labored breathing of the Senshi. All were on edge, hair prickling and goosebumps popping out on every arm. Usagi toiled away the wait by alternating between watching the clock and the window, both futile maneuvers as neither did much to soothe her anxiety. She couldn't see anything but the ebony colored abyss beyond the transparent frame, and the sound of time slipping away teased the teen with its mocking repetition:
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
"He's been out there an awful long while," Minako commented nonchalantly from the floor, hugging her crooked legs close. Her attempt to disguise fear for apathy was in vain; no one failed to notice that the blonde was trembling ever-so-slightly. She licked her lips, starting to rock back and forth. "You know, I heard on the news there's a serial killer loose in Tokyo. Targets women by appealing to their sensitivities. Real dangerous, that Enigma. They say his first murder was a babysitter. Likes to rape his victims, nice and slow. Gets him in the mood. Then, bam! Slices up their body parts."
Usagi burst into tears just as Rei exclaimed, "God, Minako-chan, enough about the serial killer!"
Minako shriveled in on herself. Makoto hurried off the couch to go wrap an arm around Minako.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I'm just really scared, and I tend to ramble when I'm scared," Minako moaned, blue eyes pleading with Usagi and the others not to be angry with her. Ami smiled consolingly as she patted Usagi on the shoulder.
"It's alright. We're all a little wrung out. Perhaps we shouldn't have riled ourselves up with that prank earlier, huh?" she laughed half-heartedly. "It's okay, Usagi-chan. Enigma wouldn't come here. He stalks his victims first, and since that hasn't been an issue for any of us, we have nothing to worry about. Besides, this house is practically in the middle of nowhere. He has no reason to be lurking out here."
"I'm not worried about us," Usagi sniffled, scrubbing at her cheeks. "I'm worried about... about Mamoru-san. Minako-chan's right. He should be back by now."
"Well, restoring electricity is a lengthy and arduous process-"
"Something's wrong, I know it," Usagi countered fiercely.
"Don't be silly," Rei tittered, glancing out the window nevertheless. "Listen to Ami-chan and stop being a baby."
Instead of cowed, Usagi seemed revitalized by the gibe. She brushed off Ami's comfort and stood, marching over to confront Rei. "I need to look for him."
"No," Rei said simply, shining the flashlight toward the window. "Do you see how dark it is? I'm not letting you go outside all alone. With your luck, you'll have a klutz attack right on the stairs."
"Please, Rei-chan. I'll take the flashlight, and Mamoru-san will be there if anything does happen. I just need to check on him," Usagi entreated, dread curling in her gut. It was a feeling hard to describe; not unlike the one she received when people were in danger and requiring of Sailor Moon's aid, and yet... it was different. Deeper. More potent. Even... familiar, like a lost long bond strung between two fated individuals. But her Senshi wouldn't have understood, especially given the person to whom Usagi suddenly felt connected. So she kept mum, instead eying Rei with desperate beseechment.
Rei hesitated.
"Please."
"You're nothing if not stubborn, aren't you, Usagi? Fine, but be careful. I don't enjoy sending you out there to stumble around in the night," Rei acquiesced, relinquishing ownership of the flashlight. "You've got your communicator, right?"
"In my pocket," Usagi responded cheerily, accepting the torch with a gracious smile. "Thank you, Rei-chan."
"If you come in here all scraped and bruised, don't say I didn't warn you," the priestess muttered under her breath, waltzing over to the sofa to sink into its depths. "And keep yourself on guard. I don't care how lustily you two watch each other strip or how magical your kisses are, Mamoru-san is still Mamoru-san, and he is also a man. Men only have one thing on their minds, Usagi. To take advantage of naive, impressionable girls like you."
"Oh, shut up," Usagi growled, separating herself from the termagant and her Senshi with an airy wave.
"I'm not joking!" Rei cried, but Usagi had already distanced herself enough that she was able to ignore her fiery comrade. The odangoed blonde sighed as she approached the front door, ruminating on Rei's cautioning parting words. Had she been serious about Mamoru-san? Had he really been eying her, small-chested and plain little Usagi, with desire? And there was no refuting the fact that their kiss had been nothing less than magical...
"Rei-chan's overreacting, like usual," Usagi told herself firmly, recalling all the other times her temperamental friend had exaggerated events and blew throwaway comments out of proportion. And yet, for some reason, the notion that Mamoru might find her enticing; attractive... well, it warmed the fourteen-year-old's heart. She had seen a new side to Mamoru during this babysitting experience, and for once, the thought of him liking her- maybe even *touching* her- was no longer revolting. On the contrary, it brought shivers dancing down the girl's spine.
Usagi crept nimbly onto the porch, closing the door gently behind her. The moon was cresting over a giant cloud high in the star-strewn sky, enveloping the dark green grounds in both light and shadow. To Usagi, the moon's presence was both a curse and a blessing. On the one hand it promoted feelings of safety and security in her, but on the other it served to make the surrounding forest seem more ominous. Biting her lip, Usagi raised the flashlight and began to inch nervously onto the grass.
"Mamoru-san?" she hissed, coming around the side yard with her light bobbing across the trees. "Mamoru-san!"
There was no answer, only a forlorn creak somewhere behind the house that made Usagi jump. She resisted the urge to squeal, instead taking a steadying breath.
'Come on, Usagi, you can do this! It's just the wind,' the blonde reassured herself, trying to quell her irrational fright.
"Mamoru-san, are you there? Are you okay?" she asked, a little louder. Usagi darted into propinquity of the white siding on the house, tiptoeing into the backyard with its solid presence at her fingertips. She peeked around the corner, only to find the man was- as she expected- nowhere to be seen. The power box was hanging wide open, hatch swinging this way and that in synchronization with the slight breeze. Usagi wondered if that was what had made the clinking noise, but a more pressing question gnawed at the forefront of her brain.
Where was Mamoru?
Then she saw it. About a yard away was a dusty old shed, wooden door much the same as the power box as it swayed, ajar. Relief flooded Usagi's system and she chuckled at her own stupidity. Of course Mamoru wasn't in danger! He had only disappeared for a moment to find something to aid in the recovery of electricity, but Usagi realized that he must be having a hell of a time trying to find a tool in that dark shed. One glance at her flashlight, and Usagi knew she had to help.
Tripping down the small slope, Usagi slowed up as she approached the shed. The wind intensified as the girl neared the door, gale whipping cold and painful against her body; ripping through her odango. As if it were pressing her to turn back; retreat to the sanctuary of the house. But Usagi was an immovable force, and she did not speak the tongues of earth. So she continued on, sidling past the door and beyond the siren call of the wind. The shed smelled like a mixture of acrid gardening chemicals and rank mulch; Usagi had to stifle a sneeze because the air was so musty. She lifted the flashlight.
"Mamor-"
Excruciating pain erupted on the back of Usagi's head, and she dropped the flashlight, watching it roll with the dizzying sensation of having been nailed with a falling hammer. And that's what Usagi surmised occurred, until her reeling figure was embraced from behind by vice-like arms, tendons standing erect on the strong skin of the individual holding Usagi captive. Through a haze she could tell her heart was racing a mile a minute, but the fourteen-year-old was unable to scream because one of the appendages holding her tethered reached up to clamp Usagi's mouth shut. The snared teen choked out a muffled sob when she saw the glint of silver only centimeters from her face, clutched tight in her captor's hand.
Carved proudly in makeshift scrawl across the knife's blade was one word; a name.
Enigma.
Terror pounded in every vein of Usagi's body.
"One wrong move, and you're dead," a gravelly male voice whispered in the blonde's ear threateningly, finger tapping his weapon.
On the dirt floor, the flashlight cycled until it came to rest against a pair of black and white shoes.
TBC
