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The night was silent, peacefully tranquil and utterly still. Save for the clattering of fingers on a cheap keyboard and muffled sounds of exorbitantly dramatic voices issuing from a pair of retro style headphones hanging around the neck of the insomniac typist. She groaned. It was the night before her term paper was due and the only thing that lay behind her was a long rambling essay on the significance of race on the development of children. She cocked her head to the side as a monochromatic samurai danced across her television screen. Ah, Kurosawa. She looked down at her keyboard for several seconds listening to the clang of swords travel from the plug in her television set out through the one good speaker her headphones provided.

Her eyes followed the cord of her keyed instrument back to the desktop computer sitting directly behind her swivel chair. The girl pulled her legs up onto the chair and spun around to look at the screen, several red underlines marked where she’d mashed words together or left letters out of them. Several keystrokes later, all was well, as they could have been at the given moment. She ran a sore hand through her unkempt brown hair and sighed. It was a loss this time, three forty five in the morning was not the time to be finishing a paper due at noon. She made several alterations to the document saved it and reached over towards her printer to turn on the ancient machine.

With a good deal of noise and several spells of silence later the bulky device showed itself ready with a green light adjacent to a power button. The girl grimaced once more and printed out what she had. It was B work if she was lucky, C work if she was realistic, and utter failure if her roommate didn’t die and fail to break the curve once again. But it didn’t matter, with a shot at a passing grade overall the girl didn’t dare complain. English, the illogical language, the illogical class. The point doesn’t have to be right to be correct. The sound of the samurai shouting in half muted voices ceased. The brown haired girl leaned backwards enough to glimpse the ending credits rolling by.

Another sigh, her worrying cost the last few minutes of distraction she had. She tapped lightly on a remote control and watched the screen flicker into blackness she watched the computer‘s screen do the same a few clicks of her mouse later. A fresh grimace appeared of her face with the soft tapping at the door that could only have meant Keg had arrived. Originally named Craig, the sophomore who could down three times as much alcohol as a large Irish man gained his name through his ability to remain completely alert even after most would have passed out and pissed themselves. The brown haired girl grudgingly stood and opened the door for her roommate’s significant other throwing a dirty look at the groggy raven haired female behind her.

The match was one made in eHarmony, two more different and yet still somehow mutually attracted parties could not be found outside the realm of electrical impulses. Still they were happy, despite his tendency to imbibe and her tendency towards paranoia. Perhaps it was good for them. He was broad shouldered but not intimidating built, tall but not looming in stature. His sandy head passed the girl’s brown one as he stooped under a hanging wire to enter the darkened room. The girl scowled once his back faced her, he would leave soon enough for a patient ear, but conversations amounting to “I love you†“Really? Me too!†held nothing but the prospect of triggering her gag reflex. So the brown haired girl grabbed her coat, slipped on a pair of shoes and made her way out into the lawn behind her dormitory complex.

It would be dawn in an hour or so, maybe. Still the dim yellow lamps situated every hundred feet or so spotted the lawn in harsh artificial light. Another sigh, visible in the cold this time, this situation was somehow just as aggravating as listening to the two fools’ two stories up. With that thought just passing out of importance the girl turned her back on the lawn and returned to the second story passing Keg on the way and much to her pleasure and surprise ending up at a perfectly silent dorm room. The brown haired girl smiled internally and quietly entered the room, tossed her coat over her sleeping computer, slipped off her shoes and flopped into bed. Sleep came quickly, but left with equal swiftness.

“Hey!†The voice sounded fuzzy and distant, while at the same time sharp and shrill to the dazed girl as she felt the hard light of the eastern sun on her face.

“No…†She answered automatically. “You get it.â€

“Quit dreaming, it’s time to go! Beate!†The brown haired girl only just stopped herself from shouting several expletives and violently attacking the speaker. She was awake and aware of the hideous pain in her head as well. Just when Beate was getting her bearings in the sharp contrast the light held to her darkened slumber a grin framed with flowing black hair appeared before the disgruntled girl’s face.

“I’m up.†She groaned. Elizabeth Hong. Pretty, tall, curvaceous. Hatefully intelligent to boot. And she wasted it on journalism, the classless major. From dumpster diving, to undercover detective work, it was always one thing or another with this girl. All for a good story.

“I can see that, you’ve got an hour till classes start, I thought I’d lend you a hand and make sure you were at least presentable--â€

“Thanks.†She answered gruffly. The glare Beate gave must have been more spiteful than she’d even intended because Elizabeth backed off with a quickness to her stride. Whatever it was, the brown haired girl was grateful for the extra three feet of room to change into fresh clothing and pretend to fuss over her messy shoulder length hair. Did it matter in the slightest if it stuck out in several places, and didn’t have that ridiculous shine to it? Probably not for a student majoring in computer programming.

If one works behind a computer all your life no one gives half a thought to who you are or what you are like physically or otherwise, that’s why she’d gotten into the field to begin with. As Beate stood musing over her life and future she suddenly remembered what she’d been doing five minutes previously. She shook herself of such trivial thoughts and reminded herself that after this year she’d never have to deal with English as anything more than a form of simple communication ever again. Ten minutes had slipped by, ten more to the building, ten more to pack, and half an hour to come up with enough carefully worded nonsense to get her through a class as she whistled a merry tune.

Fifty five minutes and seven seconds later the brown haired girl pressed a palm to her head in agitation. Her essay was just out of her hands when she remembered something she had to change, but at this time the point was moot and could only be a source of annoyance and worry for the rest of her day. Brilliant. The rest of Beate’s day went by without even, a perfect situation to stress and lament over her mistakes. On her way back from her final class she saw a harried looking boy running towards her. She almost tried to evade him but watched him pass her without a word. Strange. Stranger still was the girl calling after him.

His name was Adam it seemed, her name was either Stupid or Bitch from the way he responded. Beate considered for a moment what it might be about but against nosier judgment wrote it off as nothing but a lover’s quarrel or a bad break up or as something that was none of her business either way. So she walked on. By the time she reached her building the rays of the sun had become quite orange with their increasing slant with the sun’s progressive descent towards the western horizon. This time of day was worse than the middle of the night. It always gave the impression of emptiness, solitude, isolation. She shuddered in the wind. It was getting cold by this late in October usually, but the year it felt different somehow. The brown haired girl disregarded it and returned to her room, empty. But at the same time she could never keep away this nervous anxiety. She always felt as if she was being watched at that time of day.

Elizabeth was probably out with Keg, or working on a story. That’s right. She had said she found a particularly interesting lead the other day, was it today she was going to be late? Either way Beate liked things best when she was alone. A press of a button prompted her computer screen to buzz to life, displaying a dark loading screen. She turned away from it, tapped a switch on her small television set and removed a tin from beneath her bed, opened it and scowled. Crumbs and Soaps. She replaced the lid and slid the tin back into place and reached for her remote control. Just as she did so her computer prompted her to log on and a scratching at the door prompted her to open it. She ignored the latter assuming it was some animal. But when it persisted the girl stood up and prepared to answer it. She’d expected a prematurely drunk frat boy who’d gotten lost enough to think he was a squirrel.

A small dog greeted her instead. A tag that upon closer inspection read, “THIS CAT†and much to her surprise a flash drive with the two words, “READ ME†shoddily scratched into the casing hung from a ratty red collar. First, Beate contemplated closing the door then and there, the dog wasn’t hers and there was no way to contact any owner. But as she continued to eye the pathetic creature her curiosity about This Cat and the flash drive grew to a point where she couldn’t resist at least checking. So the dog was placed on Elizabeth’s bed, dirty paws marking the pristine white sheets, and the flash drive was set into her laptop.

Beate smiled. If it was a prank or a virus at least it would be that foolish news girl Elizabeth to be the one to deal with it. The laptop booted up quickly and a window inquiring as to the fate of the flash drive’s contents appeared. There was only one file on it under the appellate CNK. Beate opened it without a second thought, a text based game from the looks of the DOS screen it pulled up upon opening.

“Hello adventurer. Would you like to begin?†The type appeared on the screen.

“No.†She typed back.

“Are you sure you would like to quit?†Text in a semblance of a menu appeared.

“Yes.†She selected.

“7054629912.†With that the program ended. Beate was somewhat confused by the simple numbers without a sense of rhyme or reason to them, but it couldn’t be helped. The number flashed in her memory. How many digits were there? Against better judgment she flipped open her phone and dialed the number, it worked out perfectly. Her thumb hovered over the call button as she looked from the flash drive to the dog. It couldn’t hurt could it? She pressed the button. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Click.

“Hello?†The voice was weak and on edge sounding even over the phone.

“I’ve got your dog, This Cat, here, I think you may have--†Beate was interrupted abruptly when the voice came back. It was surely a male by the sound of it. A student? Possibly.

“How’d you get this number?†He said tersely.

“I thought that the drive on the collar may have been…†She trailed off and began listening to labored breathing on the other end of the line. “Are you okay?â€

“I’m fine, look after the dog for a while thanks.†He hung up before the girl even had a chance to tell him she couldn‘t keep This Cat.

“Bugger that.†She grumbled. The number had to have been someone’s and every number is on the nets it‘s just a matter of looking. A few more keystrokes. The number belonged a senior under the name of Isaac Mauprivez, eastern side of the campus. No picture available. The brown haired girl rubbed her chin in thought. “What harm could it do?â€

Fifteen minutes later she had the small dog in her hands in front of the door to what she presumed was Isaac’s room. She freed one hand only just long enough to knock on the door. It opened to reveal a tall, thin, bespectacled student wearing shorts and a polo shirt over his pale skin.

“How’d you find me here?†He was looking all around him and fiddling with a pen as he spoke.

“Interwebs.†Beate said sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t be here.†He stated bluntly.

“Here’s your dog.†The brown haired girl answered ignoring his warnings.
“You keep him, I’ve got--things to do.†He started tugging on his shirt and tapping his foot when he dropped the pen mid-sentence.

“No pets rule in my dorm, not my problem.†She replied dryly. Her patience with this bumbling boy was wearing thin.

“Take him somewhere else then.â€

“What part of not my problem do you not get. If you don’t want people finding you then don’t leave you info with a dog.†She retorted holding up the small plastic device between her fingers. An instant later she noticed that what little color there was in the lanky youth’s face was gone.

“You looked in that?†there was more wrong with him than just that too.

“No duh. How else would I call your phone?†She stated rather than asked.

“Go back to where you came from and--and stay there. It’s not good for you to have--ah just go.†With that he snatched the flash drive and slammed the door. Beate stood there for a few seconds trying to piece together what she’d heard, but none of it made any sort of sense. She knocked again and he shouted something incomprehensible. A sigh. This was way too much trouble for one dog. Not to mention that feeling, that ubiquitous set of eyes she could always feel on her back in the twilight hours.

On her way back to her dorm she dropped This Cat off with a bewildered secretary in the campus center without a word of explanation. When she returned to her room the sun had nearly set and the door was standing ajar. A slight gasp. She had surely locked it when she left and Elizabeth would never just leave a door open like that with her paranoid personality. So cautiously Beat entered the room, the fading sun left it too dark to see much in the mess of a room and the light switch by the door hadn’t been working for a week. Still the girl persisted. A noise. The rustling sounds had surely come from Elizabeth’s bed. With a blind hand, Beate felt around silently until her fingers crawled their way around the neck of a cheap electric guitar. The sound came again, louder this time.

“Who’s there?†Her sweat moistened hands gripped the instrument as if it were a club ready to strike.

No reply. Suddenly a shape moved towards her with alarming speed and she felt her hands draw the heavy instrument down on it with a dissonant chord from the strings and a sickening crack from her target. Its form slumped over on her and a warm feeling spread from her chest to her legs as the body rested on her. Blood. As Beate staggered back under the sudden weight, she stumbled into a lamp. The light flipped on as it clattered to the ground flickering on and off sporadically. Now it was her turn to lose the color in her face.

It was Isaac lying over her, dead. His face screwed up in a kind of pained grin. Beate shoved him off of her letting his blood pour from the jagged gash in his head his head all over her arms. That scent, it was sickening. As Beate turned, a flash of crimson caught her eye. In the far corner Beate saw another figure lying just as limp as the thin boy at her feet. Beate almost threw up when she realized it was her roommate Elizabeth. Her bloodied face and supine form only just visible in the last wisps of sunlight in the day. Then came total darkness. The lamp did not flicker on again; the sun did not shine any longer. No one was any longer watching. The brown haired girl dropped to her knees, distraught. She tried to wipe the sweat and tears from her face but only succeeded in smearing that vile blood over her face. But still no one watching.