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Something was wrong. Richie had been so looking forward to the game against Clivesdale, but Paul hadn't seen any sign of him since the teams had taken the field. He glanced back over towards the cheerleaders, just to make sure that he hadn't missed seeing him come back. But there was still no sign of Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk, and Richie wouldn't have come back out without the mascot costume while the game was still going on.
"Hey, Ted?" When the other man either couldn't hear him or just decided to ignore him Paul elbowed him in the side. "Ted! I'm going to go look for Richie. I'm worried."
Ted just nodded, attention already going back to the game. "Sure, whatever." He glanced back at Paul for a moment. "Hey, bring me back some more popcorn once you find him, eh?"
Paul sighed. "Sure, Ted." That was probably why his coworker had decided to sit next to him at the game in the first place, concessions delivery.
He picked his way down the bleachers, trying not to trip over anyone or step on anyone's toes. He breathed a little easier once he was on the ground and headed away from the crowds, but the closer he got to the school the more tension he could feel tightening his shoulders. There was still no sign of Richie.
"It's probably fine, Paul. You're just worrying over nothing, and Richie's going to laugh at you when you find him." Paul bit his lower lip, then pulled out his phone. Richie wasn't anywhere near the football field, so he should answer. But the phone didn't even ring once before heading straight to voicemail.
No, something was definitely wrong.
He made his way into the school, the shadowed halls and the sound of his own footsteps echoing on the floor ramping up his anxiety until he could almost feel his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Then he reached the locker room and froze when he noticed the Zeke costume in a pile on the floor. "Shit, Richie wouldn't leave that just lying on the ground."
A sudden crash sounded from inside the locker room, and an instant later Paul thought he heard a very familiar pained cry. "Richie!" He burst into the locker room and froze in horror at what he saw. Richie was curled up on the floor, blood staining his clothes and his hair. He was trying weakly to protect his head from the large and shadowy figure that was looming over him.
At the sound of Paul's voice the figure turned from Richie to stare at him with eerily glowing eyes. "Who's this, Shit Lips?" He grinned. "Doesn't matter. Guess I get to make it a two-for-one, huh?" Then with a negligent hand gesture the doors slammed shut behind Paul, and an instant later Paul's back was painfully hitting the doors even though no one was even close to him.
The figure sauntered closer, but no matter how hard Paul tried he couldn't move away from where he was somehow pinned to the doors. Then there was a cold hand tightening against his throat and pulling him up so that only the tips of his toes were still on the floor. Paul clawed at the arm holding him up as he struggled to breathe, but the arm never even shifted. Not until the figure grinned and flung him to the floor at his feet.
Paul tried to scramble to his feet, but before he could there was a swift kick to his stomach that knocked him over onto his back. The figure smirked down at him, and Paul finally got a good look at his face. The skin was grey, dark veins were visible all along his face and neck and there were various non-healing wounds dotted around his face. He looked like a corpse.
"I don't think so, dick wad. No going anywhere unless I say so." Another kick hit him a bit higher, and Paul bit back a yelp as he felt at least one rib crack. Then the cold hands grabbed his upper arms and yanked him up before tossing him across the room and into the lockers, where the back of his head hit with a dull clang that sent his ears ringing.
Everything went a little fuzzy after that, just a blur of pain and fear and the manic laughter of his attacker echoing through the room. Paul had no idea how long it had been when he finally blinked back into full consciousness, but it only took a moment to realize what had pulled him back.
"End of the line, Shit Lips. Say good night."
Despite the fact that one knee absolutely refused to work, his eyes would not focus and his hands were slipping on the blood that was coating the floor Paul pulled himself forward and awkwardly flung himself between their attacker and Richie. He ended up flopped over Richie's back and had to cling onto consciousness by his fingernails as the movement sent agony knifing through him.
Paul forced his head up to try to meet their assailant's eyes, ignoring the way blood was constantly dribbling down his chin. "Leave Richie alone." He coughed, broken ribs grating and more blood spraying out of his mouth. "If you've gotta kill someone, then take me."
For the first time there was an expression other than violent glee on the figure's face. He looked confused, and even with his increasingly blurry vision Paul realized that whoever or whatever this was, he probably wasn't any older than Richie. The figure just blinked for a moment, face crumpling, before the glowing eyes hardened again.
"Whatever. I'll be back, Shit Lips." Then the figure vanished in a blast of cold air.
Paul just stared at the now empty space for a moment before looked down at Richie. His nephew had passed out, but Paul could feel his breathing. He fumbled for his phone, trying to unlock it with bloody fingers and call Ted. As soon as the call connected and Ted actually answered Paul nearly sobbed in relief, fuzzy vision starting to go black.
"Ted, help. Please." He thought that he heard Ted answer, but then everything went dark.
* * *
The first thing Paul was aware of was the fact that absolutely everything hurt. The second was that the inside of his mouth tasted horribly of blood. He whimpered, then slowly forced his eyes open. The light stabbed painfully into his eyes, and he clamped them shut with another weak whimper. He heard someone shuffling around, then a quiet voice near his ear.
"Try opening your eyes now, Paul. I turned the lights down some."
Paul carefully eased his eyes open again, sighing in relief when the dimmer light didn't hurt nearly so much. He slowly turned his head to the side, blinking in confusion when he realized that it was Ted sitting in the chair next to what he finally realized was his hospital bed. "Ted, what...?" He coughed, wincing when the movement sent pain through pretty much his entire body.
Ted reached for a glass on the nearby table. "Here, have some ice chips. Your mouth probably tastes like shit." Once Paul had swallowed some of the ice Ted sat back in the chair. "You've been in the hospital for two days now. Richie is in the next bed over; the cops wanted the two of you in the same room so it'd be easier for them to keep an eye on you in case whoever did this comes back. Petey wanted to come sit with Richie for a while, so I was his ride."
Paul cleared his throat. "How is Richie?"
"Better than you are, you noodle. He's woken up a couple of times already, and you both should make a full recovery." Ted paused, looking over at Paul before focusing his gaze firmly on the ceiling. "I almost didn't answer the phone when you called, you know. I looked at the caller ID and I almost ignored you."
"Ted."
"No, Paul." Ted finally looked back down and met Paul's eyes. "If I hadn't answered who knows how long it would have been before anyone found you and the kid. You'd have both been dead, and it would have been my fault."
Paul sighed, biting back a wince when the action irritated his broken ribs. "Ted, listen to me. Nothing about this is your fault. Yeah, maybe you almost didn't answer when I called for help. But you did answer, and you got us help. That's all that matters, what you actually did."
Ted just looked at him for a long moment before he smiled slightly. "All right, whatever you say, Paul. Look, I'm gonna go let the doctors know you're awake. And the cops are gonna want to talk to you as soon as they okay it. Richie hasn't been able to tell them much about who did this."
Paul grimaced, thinking back on the corpse-like appearance of the figure that had disappeared into thin air and tossed Paul around without even touching him. Somehow, he didn't think that the cops were going to be much help no matter what Paul told them.
And he tried not to think about how what could only have been some sort of ghost had said that he'd be back for Richie.