Scraps, Part II
(The concept for this fic was two things: me wanting to write a scary story about that Kenny in the cave comic, and me wanting to write a Stan-->Kyle<--Cartman fic with weird sex where Kyle ends up with Stan. The comic part failed because it's too magic realismy to work in an actual plot structure and also it's sadder than it is scary, and I can always write the triangle thing elsewhere.)
"I have to show you something," Stan said.
"Okay." Kyle looked up from the boot he was lacing, waiting to hear more. Stan had just walked through the front door of the Broflovski house, which wasn't unusual for a Saturday afternoon. It was mid-September, they were eleven years old, and Stan didn't seem well. Kyle had been on edge about it since Kenny's death. It had been horrible, deeply upsetting, world changing for both of them, but Kyle was better at compartmentalizing trauma. Stan tended to let the world's injustices seep all the way into him, until every hopeful cranny of Stan's landscape was poisoned. "What is it?" Kyle asked, standing.
"What?" Stan seemed distracted, even jumpy. His summer tan was fading already, and Kyle could see the pale purple bags under his eyes. Stan had mostly stayed indoors since Kenny's funeral, which was held on a blisteringly hot day at the start of August. School had started three weeks later, and their first year of junior high still felt surreal and strange, possibly because Kenny wasn't there to join them in the transition out of elementary school, their first real step away from childhood.
"The thing you're going to show me," Kyle said, raising his eyebrows slowly, annoyed and concerned by Stan's mysteriously grim expression. "What is it?"
"You'll see," Stan said, and he grabbed Kyle's hand. "Come on. You'll need your bike."
It was still warm outside, at least until sundown. Kyle was sweating as they approached the South Park city limits on their bikes, and he wondered how much further they would have to go. It wasn't unusual for Stan to want to spend time outside of town, even before Kenny's death. Stan had often rallied the gang into mini adventures in the wilderness that surrounded their hometown, up in the mountains or in flower-covered foothills. Stan's expansive sense of where they were 'allowed' to go was one of the things Kyle had always loved about him, and he didn't question this excursion until they were miles from town, approaching the red rock along Highway 285.
"Stan!" Kyle called when he realized that was, in fact, where they were headed: to the place where they'd last seen Kenny. "Wait -- wait! Where are we going?" he shouted, though by then he knew. It was more a question of why.
"It's not much further!" Stan shouted, without turning back. He was peddling harder as the road grew steeper. Kyle was breathless, and his heart was pounding as they came closer to the place that still haunted Kyle's nightmares: the place where Kenny had died.
It had been late in the afternoon on a Saturday, approaching the time when they would need to head back toward town or risk getting in trouble for returning after dark. It was just the four of them, as it had always been when they were younger: Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny. Their social circles had widened throughout elementary school, but in the shadow of junior high they gravitated back together, and they'd spent most of that summer exclusively in each other's company, just the four of them. Though they'd reverted to their childhood gang, they were increasingly experimenting with things that made them feel older and therefore more prepared to ascend to the role of sixth graders, who they'd up til then feared as adult-like and powerful. They had finally consented to look at some of Kenny's porn; Kyle hated it, and he'd suspected that Cartman did, too, because his enthusiasm for it seemed so phony. Stan had been quiet and red-faced during every session. The four of them had also toed the line of curfew more recklessly, and had been venturing out toward the red rocks along the highway more often. It was the farthest from home that they'd dared to go without adult supervision.
There had been a storm rolling in that afternoon, but it was still only looming in the distance as they all agreed to play one last round of FBI vs. Serial Killer, a game they'd invented at the start of the summer. It was Kenny's turn to be the serial killer, and he scampered off into the hills to lay his clues and hide. Cartman was 'lead detective,' a meaningless title he'd given himself, Kyle was the criminal profiler and Stan the forensics expert. Sometimes one of them was secretly in league with the killer, a twist that Cartman had invented a few weeks back, but this time around the game was fairly straightforward, since they didn't have much time. The storm would dump heavy rain over the hills within the hour, and flash floods that turned the smooth, rocky surfaces into raging waterfalls weren't uncommon.
Riding up behind Stan toward the scene of the accident, Kyle's memories of that day seemed to physically crash against him along with the sun-baked smell of the rock and the high-pitched buzz of insects in the sage brush. Their game had unfolded as usual, with Kenny's clues not really amounting to much in terms of a logical puzzle. If they were honest with themselves, FBI vs. Serial Killer was always more of a prolonged game of hide and seek than much else. Kyle personally hated being the Serial Killer, because it was just a lot of sitting around and waiting for the inevitable "shoot out" that always ensued after the other guys found him. They were getting too old to fire finger-guns at each other, but something about the four of them together made acting like babies feel just as natural as looking at Kenny's porn collection.
"Stan!" Kyle called, and he dropped his bike, rushing up the path toward the old mine shaft. Stan didn't stop, though Kyle knew he had heard him. "Hey!" Kyle said when he caught up, grabbing Stan's elbow. "What the hell, dude? Don't go up there!"
"I have to show you," Stan said, and when he turned back, Kyle was frozen solid with fear. It wasn't Stan he was afraid of: it was the look in Stan's eyes. He seemed terribly in need of Kyle's help, and Kyle was beginning to feel as if he wasn't the man for the job.
"What the hell is this?" Kyle asked, pulling on Stan's sleeve. "We shouldn't be here. It's wrong."
"Why?"
"Because -- because Kenny died here, Stan!"
"Like I forgot? That's why I came back here before. It's like I knew I would find -- something."
"Something?" Kyle stopped walking, but Stan reached back to take his hand and pull him forward, up the hill, toward the abandoned mine shaft that had been boarded up after Kenny's death. "What kind of something?"
"You'll see." Stan was sniffling a little but not crying. He hadn't cried much when Kenny died; he'd seemed too shocked to react at all.
"Stan, please." Kyle's breath was still coming fast from the bike ride. Though the skies were clear, he kept waiting to hear thunder in the distance, remembering that day and their mounting dread as the clouds drew closer and Kenny was still out of sight. "I'm scared," he finally admitted, and his breath caught when they came to the top of the hill. The boards that had been nailed over the mine shaft were gone.
"Don't be scared," Stan said, his voice softening. He turned back to Kyle. Stan's chest was heaving, too, and he seemed desperately afraid not of the place where Kenny had died but that Kyle wouldn't accompany him there. "Please," he said, and he squeezed Kyle's hand. "I just need to know if I'm crazy or not."
"Crazy?" Kyle squeezed back, a tepid warmth burning out quickly between his ribs. "How come?"
"Come here. I'll show you."
"Why are the boards torn off?" Kyle asked. He had never actually seen the mine shaft boarded up, but he'd heard plenty of talk in town about how it should have been already, and how it would certainly be seen to as soon as possible, following the tragedy. The boards lying on either side of the pitch dark entrance to the old mine looked as if they had been recently torn down.
"I did it," Stan said, peeking at Kyle sheepishly.
"What? Why! What the hell is this? What's going on?"
"Kyle, calm down." Stan didn't seem particularly calm himself. He was still holding on to Kyle's hand, his finger's pinching tightly around Kyle's. It almost hurt, but Kyle wasn't willing to let go. "Just -- come over here. Let me show you why I did this."
"You could just tell me," Kyle said, annoyed.
"You wouldn't believe me if I did."
Stan sighed and released Kyle's hand. He knelt down and picked up a pebble. When he walked closer to the mine shaft, Kyle wanted to pull him back, as if some monster within would stretch its tentacles out to grab Stan and pull him into the darkness. Nothing had pulled Kenny in: he'd stupidly used the cave as a hiding place. In the dark, he hadn't seen the sudden drop off where the old mine elevator had been. He'd fallen to his death. Kyle, Stan, and Cartman had found him after an hour of searching the hills and stumbling upon the inexplicably unguarded old mine. It was on no known maps, hidden in the hills that led down into a featureless valley that was too steep to descend into without climbing gear.
The three of them had banded together in fright by the time they found the mine, Cartman scaring them further by suggesting that an actual serial killer might have stalked them into the hills. Cartman carried a little flashlight as part of his 'lead detective' costume, and he had pointed it into the mine, and then down the shaft that Kenny had fallen into. It was shallow, not miles deep like the modern mines. Kenny had only fallen thirty feet, but it was enough to kill him. All three of them had screamed when they saw him lying in a puddle of blood at the bottom. Kyle had turned away quickly, but every detail of that image was burned into his memory, as vivid as a lightning bolt that seemed to strike him again and again, always in the same spot.
"Watch," Stan said, and he knelt just a few feet in front of the entrance to the mine. Getting the boards down must have taken him a whole day of work, and Kyle recognized some of Randy's tools lying amid the broken lumber. Stan took a deep breath, let it out, and rolled the pebble into the mine. Kyle watched it disappear into the cool, black echo of the cave, waiting to hear it drop down the shaft. He kept waiting, confused when he didn't hear the pebble drop. Stan stood, and Kyle could hear him breathing harder now.
"What are we--" Kyle tried to say, but Stan shushed him, holding up a hand.
"Just wait," he said, softly.
Kyle did, moving closer to Stan, his heart beginning to race again. He startled when a vulture cried out from someplace down in the valley.
"What are we waiting for?" Kyle whispered when nothing happened.
"I don't know," Stan said. "I mean, I do, but. Maybe I'm just losing my mind."
"Why would you say that?" Kyle moved closer and put his hand on the small of Stan's back. In the days after Kenny's funeral, they'd been so physically close. Kyle missed that, guiltily.
Stan opened his mouth to respond, but he said nothing, his eyes growing wide. Kyle frowned and turned back to the mouth of the cave. He heard something: a small, tinkling sound, like a coin dropped on a marble floor. He cursed and jumped backward when a pebble came rolling out of the mine. It was the same one Stan had tossed inside.
"Kenny?" Stan said, stepping toward the cave. His voice was shaking.
"Stan, what the hell?" Kyle said, his own voice deteriorating as he spoke. "Kenny is dead." Kyle hadn't viewed the body, but there had been a casket, a gravestone, and he'd seen the McCormick family throw handfuls of dirt into the grave before the service dispersed and a bulldozer came to do the rest.
"Kenny," Stan said again, more firmly. He stepped closer, and Kyle wanted to drag him back, but he was afraid to move. Something was very wrong: with Stan, with all of this. It was true that Kenny's death had never felt quite right, as if it was only a bad dream that all of them were still waiting to wake from.
"Stan?"
The voice came from inside the cave, soft and hopeful. It sounded like a boy their age, someone who was as frightened as Kyle felt. It sounded like Kenny.
"Stop!" Kyle shouted at Stan, sure now that this was some cruel trick, but when Stan turned to him, his eyes were wet.
"You can hear it?" Stan said, his voice barely working. "You can hear him, too?"
"Kyle!" The voice in the cave strengthened, more cheerful now. "You came!"
"What--" Kyle said, still backing away. Then something made him draw closer, back toward the entrance of the cave: he could see a shape in the shadows. If it had been a boy standing there, just inside the mouth of the cave, he would have been illuminated by the sunlight, but this was something else. It was only the shape of a boy, a translucent outline that the sun didn't touch. Then Kyle saw the eyes: Kenny's eyes, wide and colorless but unmistakable. He was smiling. Kyle cried out and grabbed for Stan, trying to drag him away.
"It's Kenny," Stan said, staying in place. He sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "It's him, Kyle, see?"
"I'm so glad you're here," Kenny said. His voice was different -- recognizable, but echoing strangely, as if it was being projected from someplace farther away. "Kyle, it's okay. I won't hurt you."
"No," Kyle said. He tugged on Stan's arm again, successfully pulling him a few steps from the cave this time. "Stan, please. It's not right. It's not -- him, it can't be." Chills were coursing across the back of Kyle's neck and down along his arms, his spine. Something was very wrong. He met Kenny's eyes again, and though they were kind and even frightened, Kyle could only sense danger. They had to get away from whatever this thing was, now.
"He's our friend, Kyle," Stan said, trying to pull free. "He's all alone here, he's trapped. I had to get the boards down so he wouldn't be stuck in the dark--"
"He's dead!" Kyle said. "Aren't you?" he said, looking to the cave again. The outline of Kenny had grown less distinct, as if he was slipping back into the shadows. His eyes, still wider than Kyle had ever seen them in life, were sad.
"Please, dude," Kenny said. "Don't leave me alone in here. I'm scared."
"No!" Kyle shouted, feeling cruel but unable to take this any longer. "If you're scared, why don't you come out?"
"I can't," Kenny said, his voice becoming fainter. "It won't let me."
"He's stuck," Stan said. He was trying not to sob, his chin shaking. "He's stuck in there, Kyle. I don't know what to do."
"This isn't real!" Kyle said, though it felt real enough to set off alarm bells that sent him running for their bikes. He knew Stan would follow, whatever loyalties he'd developed to that thing in the cave. As soon as he heard Stan's footsteps behind him, Kyle grabbed for his bike and started pedaling away without looking back. Stan doesn't call out to him or ride alongside him, but Kyle can hear Stan following close behind, occasionally sniffling.
By the time they reach South Park, the whole thing feels like Kenny's dead did: a bad dream, something that took place in an alternate dimension that can't touch them once they're in town. But Kenny is still gone, and Stan's eyes are raw and red when Kyle throws his bike down in his front yard and turns to look at him.
"Never," Kyle says, still breathless from the ride, "Go back there again. Ever, Stan. Promise me."
"No," Stan says, but it's weak and Kyle can see that he's scared, too, and not eager to return to that place. "Kyle, it's Kenny--"
"It's not Kenny. Kenny's dead. We saw it ourselves. That's -- that's -- some kind of -- I don't know." Kyle pinches his eyes shut, trying to force his breathing to even out a little. "It's nothing good," he says when he opens his eyes.
"How can you know that? What if he's stuck there, all alone? I had a dream about it, and then when I went back there I could hear his voice from behind the boards. It's him, Kyle, and--"
"I don't care," Kyle says sharply. "I don't care if it is him. He's dead, either way. He shouldn't be here, he should -- move on, I don't know. If you go back there, you're only encouraging it."
"Him."
"It, Stan! It's not human! It's not right."
(As you can see, this is where the concept of seeing Kenny in the cave begins to unravel - not that the part about an unknown mine shaft that was boarded up and then broken into by Stan wasn't also pretty weak. What happens after this is Kyle convinces Stan not to return, we jump to the future, there are romantic antics, and Stan is revealed to still be visiting the Kenny in the cave (who is actually a demon trying to trick him) - but Kenny dies again in the future, and the whole thing basically just doesn't work, plot-wise.)