Synopsis: The survivors of the mountain said nothing. They kept the experience locked tight inside their hearts. No wonder their grandchildren are so curious about the history of their grandparents. So when they all receive a letter in the post tempting them to the mountain, what will they discover? And what really went down on that mountain?
Genre: Mystery, Humour, Romance, Angst, Horror
Ending: All survive
Rating: T/M – Just in case, you know...
A/N: Once again, I never got to posting this out yesterday. Apologies! It may be that I don't manage to do one every day but I'll try my best to stick to it!
Chapter Seven
Because Weylyn's a dick
"We need to get out of here," Weylyn roughly scrapes his fingers through his dark hair, stooping to make eye contact with Miriam. The blonde looks terrified, her eyes filling with trembles. She can tell that Weylyn is planning something. So can I.
"Weylyn," I snap, trying to grab his attention. He ignores me. Instead, his fingers lift to his neck, skimming his hands across that metal band around his neck. We all have them. Even the new girl hasn't lucked out on that one.
Weylyn grunts, trying to pry his fingers underneath the metal and rip it off. What the hell is he thinking? He might think he's the Hulk, but there's no way he could get that off with his bare hands.
"Weylyn!" I bark.
"What?!" He snaps back at me. He's impatient. Anxious. And suddenly I know why. He's going to leave us. He's going to take Miriam and leave.
But instead of confronting him, I simply swallow, hold back my snarl and I say, "What's going on?"
Weylyn's gaze drops from mine, avoiding it. His hands are clamped at his neck, but I can see the sweat glistening on his palms. I know that if Emmett was fully aware right now, he wouldn't be letting Weylyn off with this. Neither am I.
"He's being a dick," Jae says plainly. I dart my gaze to her. She's far too concerned about checking her person for any of her belonging that this maniac supposedly stole. She looks entirely unfazed, like she's been through this situation before.
"I'm not being a d-" Weylyn snaps to his feet, protesting. But his voice gives him away.
"Don't even deny it," Jae shrugs, not even meeting his eyes. She's too high up for that. "He really didn't leave anything, did he?" She sighs before crouching to the floor and picking up a metal bar of some sort. "At least he gave me this," she hums, extending it and I realise it's a selfie stick. Then drums it against her palm like she's going to beat someone up with it. "This could do some damage."
Then I catch a glimpse at the end of it. A cellphone. My cellphone.
"Hey," I call out, my voice tight. How the hell could it be my phone? It fell down the mountain. It broke. It disappeared. I'm just imagining things. Right? "Can I have a look at that?" I ask as politely as I can muster, motioning towards the selfie stick.
Jae sends an incredulous look at me. "Hell no."
I'm about to swear at her just when I hear a groggy voice command, "Give it to her."
Emmett? I glance around to see his eyes looking at me from under the bed, his lids half closed, his face contorted in pain. But he looks determined. He's got that set look in his eyes, and that hard, commanding voice. The one that demands to be listened to.
Jae rolls her eyes, scoffing, evidently about to do exactly the opposite, when Weylyn mutters half-heartedly, "Give it to her."
Emmett blinks in his woozy state at Weylyn, evidently befuddled to hear the other male agree with him. But I'm not surprised right now. Weylyn's ego levels have seriously been pegged down a few notches. That's what happens when he's shoved in the thick of things.
"Fine," Jae snaps before chucking the selfie stick over at me, the metal almost lobbing me against the head – and knocking me out a second time.
I don't even care about the stick. It's the phone. I need to know if it's really my phone. If I'm really going crazy. I snap the phone off the end of the stick, rolling the latter back over to Jae. She shrugs, rolling it with her foot before picking it up again.
I spin the phone around in my hand, feeling it's familiar weight. My stomach tightens. It's the same blue, paint splattered case, the same model of iphone. It's even got the small crack at the top right hand corner of the screen from when I accidentally dropped it into my cereal bowl.
I feel like I'm going to be sick. This is my phone. The one that Weylyn stole, the one that got knocked down the mountain. The one that's supposed to be destroyed.
How?
"Issie?" Emmett asks, his voice croaking. I lift my gaze up. I know he can see it too. He's terrified. We're both terrified. I can't stop shaking. The phone rattles in my hands.
At least Emmett has somewhere to hide.
At least he's not alone.
Miriam passes a worried look between us. Emmett shakes his head, assuring her he's okay. Every thing's okay. I wish I could be so sure.
I glance back at the wardrobe I'm half positioned in. It's bare and empty and dusty. I would greatly appreciate it right now if it led to Narnia. Anywhere would be better than here. Even if it was freezing cold.
Bang! Weylyn snaps to his feet, his foot kicking the mannequin's head, it rolling in the direction of Miriam. I do the opposite, sitting down completely on the cold, wooden floor, staring menacingly at the painted lines that contain me. I had seen what had happened to Weylyn when he'd tried to cross them so I wasn't entirely willing to try it out for myself. Emmett looks like he's about to roll out from under the bed and investigate the bang for myself but I send him a shake of my head and point to the metal bar around my neck. I can see him swallow, his hands reaching up to discover his, and then slowly, unsurely nods back.
"Weylyn!" The distant, dulled voice shouts again. I can't see her but I know it's Ester. Weylyn shouted her name not that long ago. He's trying to ignore her now. He knows that if he looks her in the eye, he'll feel the guilt rip through his stomach at what he's about to do to us.
Ass.
Miriam has picked up the mannequin head, peering into the hollow of it's neck. Emmett looks on, pointing at something within it. And Miriam's tugging it out.
A bundle of rolled up paper. "A script," Emmett breathes as he takes it from Miriam's offering hands and unrolls it.
"Weylyn!" Ester calls again.
My cellphone pings with a message. My eyes snap to it. I stare. It blinks with no signal. How could I get a text message?
I can feel my gut wringing as I flick the message open.
Hey, sis, It 's from Chandler. I suddenly feel an urge to want to run up and hug him. I've never really been a huggy kind of person, especially not with my brother. But his name sparks memories of being safe. Being free. And all I want to do is find him and run into his arms and forget ever coming up here. How's your little adventure going? Hope you're having fun! C.
He's so oblivious. Idiot!
I stab out a reply, telling him just that. And then cracking out the words, Call 911! But as soon as I finish the sentence, the words delete themselves. I stare incredulously at it, letting out a little whimper.
I try calling him. Just a lifeless, never ending beep. Frustration and anxiety build up in me and I want to through the frickin thing across the room.
"What?!" Weylyn snaps at Ester through the window. His hands are clawing at his hair. He's frustrated and panicked too. I think this is the first time I've ever found anything in common with him.
Emmett's mouthing words as his eyes skim the script. "Maybe we should start with a little... this is messed up," he mutters.
"I need your help!" Ester calls.
Weylyn shakes his head. He looks desperate.
"Help her," I growl. "For goodness sake."
"Told you he was a dick," Jae shakes her head, scoffing. She's joined me on the floor and looks like she's about to fall asleep, sending a fake yawn into the air. If I gave her a bag of popcorn, I'm sure she'd be munching on it, watching the scene unfold. Or she'd be using it to through at the actors.
To be honest, so would I.
"I can't," his voice breaks, avoiding my eyes. He knows something. Something none of us
"Why?" Emmett asks, finally looking up from the script.
Weylyn flinches. He grits his teeth, like he's trying to fight something. Then he closes his eyes, his fists clenching. His jaw, stiff, opens. And, through a tight voice, he says, "Maybe we should start with a little, you know, making out, and see where it goes from there."
A click.
The door creaks open.
And he's reaching down, grabbing Miriam by the arm and pulling her out from under the bed. Then they both hurry out of the room, Miriam glancing behind at us with worry creased eyes as they leave. Abandoning us.
And they don't even get any electric shocks.
Jae mutters, "Well, I'm out of here," as she easily saunters out of her circle and, shoving the mannequin aside, hurries off on her own, selfie stick in hand.
My phone pings with a text message.
It says it's from "Maniac." My throat tightens. At least the asshole knows who he is. With shaking hands, Emmett squeezing out from under the bed and crouching down beside me. Despite myself, I reach for his hand. He cups mine back. I click the text message open;
"Dick."
A/N: Great job, guys. Always separate in a horror movie style situation. Fabulous move there.
DreamsCPape: Ester is pretty awesome. Takes after her Grandmama ;D
The Ben Who Must Not Be Named: Intense, indeed it is.
