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.

Officer Swanson and I looked on at the poor sap before us. Seven knives protruded from his back as if he were a pin cushion.

I looked down and noticed he was holding a knife of his own. It was covered with blood. Next to his hand, there seemed to be some kind of message, written in blood.

Hm. Most intriguing.

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

As soon as Poo slid his mucilaginous mass into the conference car, his finger was pointed squarely at Kenneth.

"THIS HIPSTER DOUCHE LAST NIGHT I CONTROLLED
WHAT'D HE DO? HE KILLED BERNIE MOST OLD
NOW WE MUST STRIKE HIM TIL HE'S COLD!"

Without a second thought, seven of the passengers grabbed steak knives and steadily approached Kenneth.

"Now wait a minute you guys. We can talk about this. Let's just talk." he said calmly.

Scott shook his head.

"No. You're a killer. I mean I enjoy partaking in criminal activities as much as the next guy, but I can't very well do all my crack-smoking and what-not when someone's trying to kill me!"

"Look. I admit it. I'm a killer. But I swear...it was all for the good of the town. Sarah and Rachel would still be on the loose if it weren't for me! Now just trust me. Scott's got to go next." Kenneth said, suddenly less sure of himself. The mob didn't seem to be letting up.

Winston shook his head disapprovingly.

"Son, there comes a time in every train ride when it's gotta reach its destination. Sometimes this happens sooner than you'd like, sometimes later than you'd like. But we don't have much say in the matter, do we? What I'm sayin' is, it's about time your train ride ended. Good or bad, it don't matter. It's just time."

Winston calmly walked over to Kenneth and slid a knife into his back. Others quickly followed suit, as Kenneth writhed around on the floor in agony.

In his final moments, Kenneth pulled a knife of his own out of his pocket. The passengers looked on in horror as he reached back and stabbed his own back.

Kenneth smiled and took it out and started scribbling a message on the floor, before drawing his last breath.

The message simply read "brb".

The passengers all looked at each other in fear. What...the hell did that mean?

The lights went out momentarily and a faint whisper echoed throughout the carriage.

"Sleeep well." said the voice menacingly.

The lights shot back on and everyone looked around at each other. Everyone appeared the same.

Appeared.