Silent Bob started stepping forward as he laughed. Towards the Slender Man. Towards him.
Dumas put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Bob gave him a glare—not one of his manic animalistic ones, but a sort of “you really don’t want to do that” one, grabbed his hand, and squeezed. I heard a crunch, and Dumas screamed.
One of the proxies fired a shot, but missed. Bob instantly changed course and ran, leaping forward, grabbing the proxy by the face, and slamming the back of his head into the ground as hard as he could. He picked up the gun and emptied the clip into the other proxy who held a gun. One proxy with a knife and one who was unarmed charged him. He grabbed the one with the knife by the arm and twisted it so that the other ran into the blade, then wrenched the knife from is hand and drove it into his throat.
The night filled with screams as the men died.
I glanced back to the Slender Man. He was gone. He had disappeared in the confusion, for some reason.
He started walking towards the building, where the Slender Man had been. The two remaining proxies were hanging back. One had grabbed one of the guns, but it was shaking as he held it.
“Bob!” Jenny screamed. “Bob, stop it!”
She ran forward and started pounding her fists against him. “Stop that!” she sobbed. “You’re being really, really scary!”
He stopped laughing as he listened. Looked down at her and gave her a sort of amused smile.
Wrapped his arms around her head and snapped her neck.
It was too quick for her to even react. There was just a sharp breaking sound, and then she was lying on the ground, dead. Ryan charged him at that. I yelled at him to stop, but if he heard he didn’t care. Bob sidestepped him easily, grabbed his head, and slammed it against he wall.
Dumas dragged himself over to me. “Get out of here,” he said. “Jenny is…she’s gone.” He choked on the words a bit. “But Ryan might still be alive. Go. Get him to a hospital.”
“What about you?”
He let out a short laugh. “Well my right hand is broken in several places, and I’ve lost enough blood in my entire left arm that I don’t think I can feel it anymore. I’m dead if I don’t get medical attention, but I can’t go back and they’ll track me down at the hospital, so unless you know some good back alley doctor, I’m gone either way.”
“And Ryan isn’t?”
“They want him alive yet. They…they might take him. But he’ll be alive. Isn’t that better?” I couldn’t disagree. “Now go. I’ll hold him off for a bit. Goodbye, Kenny. And good luck. I’m, um…I’m sorry for everything.”
I started creeping around to where Ryan lay. I saw Dumas have a short, quick conversation with the proxy with the gun, at which point he handed it to him.
“Hey! Bob!” He held up the gun as Silent Bob looked at him. “Count the shells, suck-a-duck!” He fired with his broken hand and winced and swore at the kickback. Predictably, he missed, but he used that opportunity to take off. Bob took off after him. The two remaining proxies followed.
I reached Ryan and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but I could feel one. There was a pool of blood forming around his head, and I pulled off Jenny’s hoodie (and vomited as I did so) to try to stop the bleeding somehow. Lifted him onto my shoulders, sobbing and dry heaving, and trudged off under his weight.
I don’t know how far I made it. I tripped and collapsed at one point. I was feeling nauseous. Dizzy. Tried to lift Ryan back up but couldn’t.
A police car pulled up, its lights illuminating us and blinding me. The officer stepped out and I started babbling to him, thanking him for stopping, telling him that Ryan had been hurt and needed and ambulance and to get to a hospital as quickly as possible. I dropped to my hands and knees and threw up again off to the side as the officer knelt down by Ryan’s body.
“He’s dead, Kenny.”
I looked up as I heard my name and finally got a good look at the officer for the first time. Thin, tall man, sharp features. Of course. Edwin Canis.
“No. He…he can’t be dead.”
“He’s got no pulse, Kenny.”
I scrambled over and started checking for a pulse. “No! He’s…he’s not…” I put my hands on his chest. “We can defibrillate him, can’t we? To get the pulse going again? Where do I push?”
“It won’t work!” he snapped. “He’s dead. They’re not going to be able to save him at this point. Now, tracking you back down was hell and I’m not leaving without you. Let’s go.”
“We still have to get him to a hospital or…or somewhere.”
“No. What we need to do is get out of here, now. That guy you call Silent Bob is still on the loose, and it’s not safe to be here. Just leave him. Someone will find him.”
“I can’t!” I sobbed. “It’s…it’s not right!”
He didn’t answer. He just hauled me to my feet and shoved me into the passenger seat of the police cruiser. Drove off.
I didn’t resist. What would the point have been?