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And Now Paulo.


Finally, Mike.

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The entire time, Mike held his ears in agony. Lucy seemed to almost ignore it, her gaze focused nonchalantly on him; Paulo seemed to be bottling up a rocket-ship of enthusiasm for the now prancing cheerleaders. Despite noticing this, Jasmine leaned close to his arm; to Daisy, it seemed like she was almost proud of him. All the while, David sat in the bottom row, blankly staring into oblivion.
The silence was quickly shattered when Jasmine asked, “So has anyone heard about the murders that occur every year on the night of the Parade?”
“Oh yeah,” Lucy said, her face twisting into a crooked smile. “Every year some unlucky sap gets chopped to pieces. Pretty gruesome, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jasmine said, her voice nearly disappointed. “It's pretty nasty.”
“I heard it was usually two people,” Mike said. “One is found down by Devon Creek, and the other just disappears.”
“Why haven't I heard of this?” Abbey said.
“Because nobody likes to talk about it, fruitcake,” Paula snapped. It almost seemed like he was uncomfortable.
“And it happens every year? Without fail?”
“Oh yeah,” Lucy snickered. “Two lovebirds, every year.”
“Do you think the ones that disappeared did it?” Abbey seemed almost afraid; though he hid it, Daisy could barely see him squeezing his stress ball.
Daisy quickly pointed out, “The pattern is too constant for it to be copycats; it's most likely a serial killer. But none of us should really worry about it anyway. He's killed dogs and cats with no preferences to breed, but he's never targeted teenagers.”
The group was stunned. Paulo raised one finger, ever so nervously, and said, “How the hell do you know so much about this?”
Lucy snickered. “She's Daisy, you moron.”

After the game ended, the group parted ways. Abbey had decided to walk Daisy home, dropping her off at her doorstep with a kiss, and finally heading off to his own house. Daisy watched, smitten, from her bedroom window, as his dark silhouette faded from view. Then, she plopped sideways onto her bed, holding her stuffed bear gently in one arm.
She heard a knock on her door, and went to answer. Her mother was standing there with an old Labrador behind her. “I'm sorry, who are you?”
“Pardon me, young lady, my name is Detective O'Brien, with the Roseville police department.” He flashed his badge. “Now, you're not in any trouble but I'd like to talk to you about your 'friends.'”
“I'll give you some privacy,” her mother said, heading back down the stairs.
“What did Paulo do now?” Daisy asked, her face filled with anger.
“Why, does Paulo get in trouble with the law a lot?”
Daisy's anger receded, replaced with worry. “No, he's just... how do I put it... he's Paulo.”
“Have you ever heard of the Curse of Takasheka?”
“No,” Daisy said. “Not really.”
“Takasheka is an obscure folkloric figure,” O'Brien said. “He was supposedly associated with the local Native American tribes, but no record has been found of him prior to the 19th century. He is supposedly a trickster deity, who guards this area from intruders. According to the legend, he fought demons who invaded the town, and drove them into the nearby woods.”
“I'm sorry,” Daisy said, “but I have trouble finding that as a police matter.”
“Well, Takasheka is purely a local legend. Supposedly, he is responsible for the murders that occur on the night of the Hart's Diner Parade. The idea is that, about fifty years ago, Roseville was about to be evacuated so that the federal government could build a damn. They were buying land from the locals, though many of them tried to fight it. Eventually, there were two murders; one was found hacked to pieces, and the other was found a month later, in a steel barrel, his heart cut out an missing. Locals then said it was the curse of Takasheka that had lead to their deaths; as a matter of fact, both individuals had willingly sold their land days before.”
“I'm sorry, but that just seems like superstition to me,” Daisy said. “And I really fail to see what it has to do with my friends.”
“Did you know that Paulo's, Michael's and Lucy's grandparents were among those who were protesting?”
“No,” Daisy said. “I never heard anything about that.”
“In fact, Paulo's and Michael's grandparents were actually suspects in the original murder.”
“I still don't see what it has to do with them.”
“All of those who died were related to someone who tried to sell their land,” O'Brien said. “As a matter of fact, your own parents themselves had attempted the same thing.”

Daisy was stunned. She stood in the doorway for a moment, silent, her face blank and unresponsive. And then, it developed into a look of scorn, and said, “What exactly are you saying?”
O'Brien paused. Pulling a stick of nicotine gum from his pocket, he placed it inside his mouth and bit down. “What I'm saying is I have reason to believe that Paulo and Michael may actually be involved in these murders.”
That couldn't be true. She'd known Paulo for almost her entire life, and Mikey was too sweet and gentle to have done something has horrible as that. “Do you have any proof?”
“Tell me, what do you know about Michael's girlfriend?”
“Sandy?” Daisy asked. “Just that it's been a long distance relationship for a while. That she moved away about a year ago.'
“Did you know Sandy is currently on trial for vandalism?”
Daisy's heart jumped. “What?”
“May I come in?”
Daisy nodded. She motioned for O'Brien to take a seat at her desk. “Please explain,” she said, slowly sitting on the side of her bed.
“About two weeks after she moved to Rickter, Sandy began reporting issues with depression. For years, the doctors assumed it was stress from her modeling job. But about a month ago, things took a sudden turn. Sandy began acting paranoid, avoiding her friends. She stopped taking Michael's calls. And then, about a week and a half ago, she was found in the school late at night. She had smashed her friend's locker with a golf club.”
Mikey hadn't said anything about Sandy not calling him, Daisy thought. “I'm sorry, but I don't see how it's relevant--”
“When questioned,” O'Brien said, as if he hadn't heard her, “she claimed that it was Takasheka who had smashed the locker in.” Removing the gum from his mouth, he wrapped it in a napkin and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Now Daisy, I'm sorry but I'm certain that I'm not wrong here. After all, Sandy's parents were very outspoken against the dam project, and although the charges were dropped, Sandy's mother had assaulted one of the earlier victims during the incident. The fact is we've had her family as been wiretapping the family's phones for some time. While we never found anything incriminating them, about six months ago the subject came up in a conversation between Michael and Sandy.”
“Well, what did he say?” Daisy asked.
“He told her that he and Paulo had been with the previous victims the night of the festival. Daisy, this makes them the last ones to see them alive.”

Daisy lay awake the rest of the night, her eyes half-closed, immersed in thought. Though she didn't see how O'Brien had linked Mikey and Paulo to the murders, Sandy's behavior disturbed her. What terrified her most was that she could very well be a target. But they're my friends, they'd warn me wouldn't they? She thought. Or maybe they're close to me because it makes it easier for them to kill me? A lot of serial killers get to know their victims... if so, who's in on it?
The next day, she showed up late to school, having nearly passed out several times during the commute. She fell asleep during math, though she somehow managed to avoid being scolded by the teacher. During phys ed, Daisy realized she wouldn't make it through the day; heading to the Nurse's office, she asked to be sent home to rest.
She was told, “Yes.”

She was a little more invigorated thanks to Math Class, but only enough to make the trip home without collapsing. To be sure, she studied the scenery as she walked, taking in the sounds of the cicadas buzzing in the background. It was a sound she enjoyed, much to the surprise of many. With each step, she could hear them calling for their mates, their last act before dying.
Daisy stopped. “What a weird thought,” she said out loud. It wasn't wrong--it just wasn't something she usually thought about. “I really need to rest,” she told herself, and with that she laid another step.
A step, somewhere behind her, fell down, just slightly out of sync with hers. This is a public park, you dummy, she told herself, and huffing up, she began to move forward.
Step-step, step-step. She paused again. She quickly turned to look behind her: no one was there. There was no place for them to duck into either. “I'm just sleep deprived,” she thought. Gathering up the courage, she walked home, trying hard to ignore the footsteps following her.

“Thank you very much for this, Lucy,” Sandy's mother said, holding her hand gently. “I can't tell you how much this means to my daughter.”
Lucy smiled and nodded, pretended she was okay with it. Truth was, she was only doing it for Michael; poor sop hadn't slept in weeks before now. Now he was standing over her, chipper, happy as a clam. She smiled for him and said, “Are you sure you're okay with this Mike?”
“Oh yeah,” Michael said. “I'm really glad you were a match. Don't tell Sandy I said this, but it'd be like dating both of you.”
Yeah, Lucy though. Except I won't be able to smile with you.
She passed the window, seeing the once dim face of Sandy now lit up. The thought brought a tear to her eye. She felt Michael brush it off. “Oh, you know you're tough. You can do this. You're saving a life here! There's nothing more fulfilling than that!”
I can think of one thing, Lucy thought. As they wheeled her along, the nurses blocked Michael and the others from following. Hearing their heartfelt shouts of encouragement, Lucy broke down. How is this going to fix anything? She thought. Slowly, they wheeled up Sandy to the table next her her. The once beautiful model held out her now frail arm, and Lucy took it, though she didn't know why. “Thank you....” Sandy whispered, just as the medication in the IV helped her go to sleep.
Lucy closed her eyes. It'll be over quickly. You won't feel any pain. You're doing the right thing, the right thing....”
She heard the doctor's voice. “Remember, no one's forcing you to do this. You can back out of it. But this is your last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?”
With a tear in her eye, she held Sandy's hand firmly. “Yes, doctor, put me under.” The needle entered the vein in her arm, and for a second there was a burn, and then, she faded into darkness.
The doctor hesitated. Then, he grabbed a scalpel and said, “All right, we have to be very precise when we remove it. Cut it too short, too long, or anything out of order and we'll lose valuable time. A heart transplant is one of the trickiest operations, gentlemen. We can't afford to muck this up.”

Daisy paused for a moment, unable to form any words. Then, she said in a weak voice, “Is this Sandy?”
“Daisy?” Sandy said. “It's been a while, how are you?”
“I'm.... okay,” Daisy lied.
“No, you're not,” Sandy said. “What's wrong?”
“Sandy.... a police officer came to my house last week.”
Sandy's voice changed sharply. “Oh I see. You're calling about 'that.'”
“No--”
“They've been following me for weeks, talking to my mom, my teachers, and now they have Maishul's Other Girl calling me to psych me out.”
“Sandy, that's not--”
“Well tough. I've told them what happened, and I'm not changing my story. I don't know anything about anything you guys are doing down there--”
“SANDY!” Daisy screamed. Sandy went quiet.
Daisy quickly checked the hallway to make sure her mother wasn't coming. “Sandy, I want to know about Takasheka.”
She heard a sigh on the other end. “I take it it's happening to you to?”
“Happening...?” Daisy said. What is she talking about?
“The footsteps that follow you wherever you go. At first, they seem so far away, and when you stop to find the person they belong to, there's no one there. When you start walking again, they get closer. You feel Him watching your every move.”
Daisy swallowed. “Yes....” Was it though? She couldn't be sure; she'd never seen anyone following her, but the footsteps weren't getting any closer. At least, not now. “Sandy, tell me about the lockers. Did Takasheka do that?”
There was a brief noise on the other end of the line. For a moment, it was dead silent, but then, Sandy whispered, “I'm sorry Daisy. I can't talk right now. I'll give you a call a little later. Be careful though. Don't trust anyone.” Then, the line went dead.