The final six motel guest stood in Jones' room and faced each other. No one trusted each other. At least two of them were undoubtedly killers as far as they knew. They didn't let anyone leave their sights.

"Why wasn't there another attack last night?" Alfred asked. "There was only one. Something isn't right here."

As Alfred, Richard, Ray, and Tobias talked among themselves to sort things out, Chip slowly stood up behind them. Everyone turned to face him while Lauren continued to be a useless piece of shit in the corner of the room. Chip had been quiet the past few hours. Seeing any sort of activity from him was alarming.

Chip rose and looked out at the other five. A menacing smile came across his face.

"You.." someone said.

"Me." he replied.

Chip ran at the group, knife in hand. He swung the blade around like a maniac, hoping to strike anyone. The five flew back, narrowly dodging his attack.

It was futile. Chip realized this.

"That fucker Timmy is dead." he started "That fat fuck. He ruined my career. My life. But now he's dead like a bloated goldfish or sumptin'. That's all that matters. We won."

Chip looked into the eyes of each remaining guest, then down at his knife. He turned it around, and plunged it deep into his stomach.

"Never seen that before." said Richard.

Chip pulled the knife out, clasped his wound, and then plunged the knife in a second time. Everyone stood and watched, frozen.

"The serial killer. I hope he cuts you all up real nice." he said, before driving the knife into his chest, one final time.

This one was deeper than the rest. Chip fell to the ground, coughing up blood on his way down. The knife still jutted out from his abdomen.

Tobias calmly walked over, looked down at the protruding knife, and stomped on it hard. The knife drove through Chip's chest and pinned him to the hardwood floor.

"Like pinning donkey tail or sumptin'....Tss..tss.." he muttered, before passing.

Tobias chuckled. For the first time, someone laughed at Chip's joke.

As I inspected the body in the bloody tub, I noticed a boot in the corner. Evidence perhaps? I made my way over to it as Bollig shined his flashlight around the small bathroom.

I slipped on a glove and carefully picked up the shoe by one of its laces. Blood dripped from the bottom of the boot and splashed onto the tile floor below.

"Whoever wore this must've stepped through a murder scene I suppose"

That's when I turned the boot over and inspected the bottom of it. Squished against the underside of the heavy boot was a small object, covered in blood and tufts of hair. I hadn't realized what it truly was until I peeled it off of the boot. I quickly dropped the object onto the ground. Looking back up at me was the small, dead corpse of a mouse.

-----------------------------------

Montgomery was feel confident. He had always led an interesting life, and his time spent on the Wendigo Express was no different. Despite feeling smaller than everyone else in a number of ways at the start of the ride, Montgomery was beginning to grow as a mouse.

He was curled up in his matchbox bed as the tunnel approached. Once the darkness poured in, he went to work. He scurried up his door and carefully peered out, as he did each night. This time, he saw a figure on the other side.

Curiously, Montgomery opened up his door and looked up at the stranger.

"Oh, hello. I seem to have lost my megaphone. Perhaps you can help me look for it?"

*BLAM*

The figure slammed their boot down and crushed the life out of Montgomery. Blood, fur, bones, and twitches appendages shot out from the sides of the bottom of the boot. Montgomery's tail continued to flitch, so the killer twisted their boot a few times around for good measure.