Chapter Eleven:

...My Shaking Head

Something wet touched the palm of Jess's hand, jerking her out of uneasy sleep. She sat bolt upright and yelped. A long, canine snout snuffled at her fingers and she scrambled back.

"Um… Emily?" She tried to keep her voice calm but it trembled as she stared at the wolf.

Emily groaned and rubbed her eyes, sitting up. "What is—fucking—what?" She looked confused. "I… have no idea what to do."

The wolf sat back on its haunches and its mouth dropped open in a dog-like grin. Jess couldn't look away. The second she did, she was sure it would lunge at her. She did not like the look of its teeth. "How did it get in here?"

"Probably not that hard to do. There's a lot of openings and stuff."

But apparently, they were boring. The wolf looked between them, then stood and began to walk away, trotting briskly down the hallway. At the corner, where the hallways turned to lead out of site, the wolf sat down again and simply watched them in silence.

"Does it think we have food?"

"Maybe it thinks we are food," Jess muttered.

"Wolves don't eat people."

"They might if they were hungry enough."

Moving slowly, Emily stood and stretched, adjusting her sling. "These woods are full of animals. Did Matt ever tell you about the deer? We found a whole herd. There's no way that thing is starving up here."

"So… what? It just came to visit?"

Emily made a face. "Didn't Mike say he met a wolf?"

"Two of them."

"One died, though, right? Is this the other one? It's white. Didn't he say the one that helped him was white?"

"Really? You think that the random wolf or dog or whatever that Mike made friends with somehow found us here and, what, wants to help or something?"

Em glared at her. "I didn't say it wasn't weird. But really, would it be the weirdest thing to happen up here?"

"Oh my god. Okay, fine. But if it kills us, I'm going to be so pissed." Jess pulled her hair back tightly. "I would literally kill someone to be able to wash my hair right now. I feel so gross."

She shouldered her bag and they proceeded cautiously towards the wolf. Its paws were dirty, but it was indeed white. Rounded, thickly furred ears perked towards them as they approached and once they were within ten feet, it turned and once more began to walk away. Jess let out a nervous giggle. "I feel like I'm in a Disney movie. You know, like I can talk to animals or something."

"If this was a Disney movie, you'd have perfect hair all the time without needing to wash it. That would be nice," Emily murmured, shooting Jess a smile. "Also, you'd probably be barefoot or wearing heels or something."

Jessica shuddered. "No thanks. Barefoot around here is a bad idea. And I should know."

If the wolf was leading them somewhere, neither of them could guess at where. They wound through the labyrinthine halls of the old hotel without going up or down any levels. The floor under them went from worn wood to rotting carpet and finally to smooth marble tile.

Jess stopped dead. "You have got to be kidding me."

It had brought them to a bathhouse. Both girls burst out laughing and the wolf padded back to them, sitting and looking for all the world like it was laughing too.

"We smell that bad, huh?" Emily reached down and rubbed its head. It leaned into her hand slightly. "Did Mike really tame you this much?"

"Probably friends with that guy with the flamethrower you guys told me about. Do you think any of this stuff still works?"

Shrugging, Emily started to poke around. The wolf let out a little huff and ambled over to a small wooden doorway with a padlock on it. Jess followed and saw that the lock was undone, hanging awkwardly off the latch. The door was open a hair. The wolf nosed the door open and vanished down a set of stairs into the darkness.

"Em, I think it wants us to go down here."

They descended carefully. The stairs were rough and crumbling, broken in several spots. The stairway was narrow, though, and it was easy to use the walls to keep their balance. Another door stood open at the bottom landing, leading out into a small cave.

"And now we're back in the mines. Great. Don't we need to get to the lodge?" Emily put her good hand on her hip and scowled at the wolf. Its tail beat at the ground.

Jess found herself warming to it. She hadn't expected it to be so doggy. It was hard to be afraid of such a friendly creature, even if it was huge and dangerous. "You're the one who wanted to follow it. Commit or go home, Em, c'mon."

The cave opened onto a much larger cavern. The air was warm and moist on Jess's skin. Copper pipes fed down from above, tapping into steaming pools in the ground. "Oh. My god." Jess grinned at Emily. "It's a hot spring. Did you know there was a hot spring down here?" She crouched down to dip her hand into the water. It smelled of Sulphur and other minerals, but was blissfully warm. "It's not too hot."

"I think Josh actually mentioned at some point. That's why they built the sanatorium up here, right? And I guess the hotel too."

"I'm getting in."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're going to take a bath?"

"Em, I'm tired and cold and sore. I want to get the grime out of my hair. Period. Just let me have this one."

"Have you ever watched a single horror movie, ever?" Emily fidgeted with her sling.

Jess laughed. "Fuck it. I don't care. Last time I was attacked naked. You really think that'd happen again?" She dropped her bag and stripped off her coat. "I'll be quick. Want to join me?"

The wolf settled down next to the backpack. "I guess if you don't think it's a problem," Emily muttered to it. "This is so fucking stupid. I can't believe I'm doing this."

Easing into the water, Jess sighed. "You, Mister Wolf, are the best friend a girl could ever have." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Emily rummaged in the bag and pulled out a compressed washcloth. "Here," she tossed it at Jess. It glanced off her shoulder and into the water. "If you're going to wash, might as well make it count, right?"

As much as they were tempted to linger, neither could quite relax. They scrubbed quickly in the warm water. Jess rinsed what felt like pounds of dirt out of her hair. By the time they were done, the water was cloudy. It wasn't as good as an actual shower with shampoo, but it made Jess feel more human after the rockslide and finding Josh's trap for them. She felt more awake than she had in days. "Admit it. This was a good idea."

The other girl made a face at Jess as she re-dressed. "No, this was a colossally bad idea. But—" she smiled. "It was worth it, either way. I do feel way better."

The wolf stood the moment Jess shouldered her pack again. It let out a little yip and trotted off again, leading them down another tunnel.

Now the ground was sloping gradually upwards. They marked their way with chalk, but there were few turns. The tunnels seemed remarkably direct, at least for wherever the wolf was trying to take them. Suddenly it froze, hackles raised and growled, low in its throat. Then it was gone, bolting forward into the dark.

"Hey, wait!" Jess took off after it, running as fast as she could with the heavy bag bouncing on her back.

"Jess!" Emily called from behind her, then swore softly and started running too.

They pounded up the path and dodged through an open iron door. Skidding to a stop on a poured concrete floor, they glanced at each other, panting hard. "Where did it go?" Jess asked, coughing a little as she caught her breath.

Emily waved a hand vaguely. "No clue. Where are we?" They reviewed what they remembered of the map. "I mean, we went uphill a lot. Is this the sanitarium?"

The iron door slammed shut behind them. They spun to stare at it. Emily tried its handle and frowned at Jessica. "Locked."

"Oh. Good," Jess said, trying for levity. "I was worried this might be boring."

-o-

The lodge may have been entirely different than they remembered it, but the mine seemed to have frozen in time. It was still damp and musty with dead, unmoving air. If Sam thought about it too much, it gave her the heebie-jeebies. She'd never been a huge fan of cramped spaces and, though large portions of the mine were open, at least half the tunnels they passed through were narrow and tight.

They followed the map as best they could. When they'd seen Josh in the dream, he'd been near the elevator shaft, but that could have been on any level. She hadn't paid much attention to the signs once she'd seen him. It was also highly likely that he'd moved by now. She couldn't imagine him just lying in that same space for days. At the very least he'd need to get water.

Here and there they saw signs of Flamethrower Guy: a makeshift ashtray, a broken strap from his flamethrower rig, scorch marks. At one point Mike picked up the soggy remnants of a book of matches and grimaced. As they passed by a rack of tools, something caught Sam's eye. It was an old steamer trunk, shoved back and mostly out of view behind a row of shovels.

"Did you see this?" Sam beckoned to Mike as she knelt down to examine it. "It's locked."

He crouched down beside her. "Maybe one of Flamethrower Guy's stashes? Think we can open it?"

Sam grabbed the handle and tugged it awkwardly out of its hiding spot. Glancing around the tunnel, she grabbed a filthy shovel and shrugged. "We can try. Here. Back up. I'll try to pop the lock off."

"It's going to be loud," he warned her.

"So? Who's down here to hear us besides Josh?" Beth's voice echoed in the back of her mind: Something old. Something bad. She ignored it. "And if he does hear us, so much the better, right?" Without waiting for another objection, she wedged the blade of the shovel into the lock and pushed down. It took three tries, but the lock final gave with a loud cracking sound, pieces of it shooting back from the pressure. She hissed in pain and looked at her hand. Part of the shovel's handle had splintered up and torn a jagged hole in her palm.

Blood welled up and she dropped the shovel, letting her bag fall to the ground.

"What happened?"

"Just cut myself on the stupid shovel. Will you grab the first aid kit?"

Mike retrieved it and set about dabbing the wound with disinfectant and wrapping it tightly. It throbbed vaguely but seemed more or less fine. She waved off Mike's concern and dropped to her knees again, carefully opening the lid of the chest.

It was nearly empty. There were some army rations in battered containers stacked in one corner and two jars on the other side, each stoppered and sealed with wax. Sitting alone in the middle of the chest was a piece of wood, carefully carved to resemble a badger. Her fingers hovered over it uncertainly, then she took a deep breath and picked it up. She held it up for Mike to see. "It's a totem."

He sucked in a breath. "What color is that?"

It was impossible to tell with any certainty. Age and moisture had faded it until it was all essentially the same shade. Maybe it had been brown or black at one time, but it could just as easily have been white. "I don't know. Should I—"

"I guess. It can't hurt anything, right? Maybe it'll help."

Sam braced herself and lifted it to peer inside.

"Wait!" The Flamethrower Guy throws out a hand, stopping Chris in his tracks. There's something moving in the trees.

Chris takes a step back and a twig snaps under his foot. There are cries from around them and the Flamethrower Guy shouts: "Run! Go! Now – now – now!"

He tries to move, lights the night with flame, shouting and directing Chris to run.

"And we're right out in the open – gotta get out of here!"

In a flash, a naked, grey-skinned wendigo shoots across the path. Its hand moves too fast to track, but suddenly he's gurgling, blood streaming down his chest and out of his mouth. His eyes roll back and he drops to his knees. As he does, his head slides off, like butter sliding off a hot knife.

Sam reeled back from it, letting it fall back into the trunk and pressing her hand to her forehead against the sudden headache.

"Are you okay?" Mike dropped down beside her and put his hand on her back. "What was it?"

"Flamethrower Guy. It was him, dying. With Chris."

"What? Wasn't this his trunk?"

She nodded slowly, trying to process. "He knew. He knew he might die. He knew he would probably die. And he still helped us."

"Damn."

Sam lifted one of jars and tipped it slowly from side to side. It was 3/4 full of a dark, sluggish liquid that moved with the viscosity of thick honey or molasses. "What is this?"

"Search me." Mike picked up the other jar and shone his flashlight beam into it, trying to see better. The jars were brown glass and it was almost impossible to make out any more detail of the contents. "Do we open them?"

"Nah. Who knows what it is. I don't really want to risk it. That guy didn't seem entirely stable." She sighed. "I can't believe—and then we just came back. He would be so mad that we came back. Ugh. Okay. I think that was worth cutting my hand open."

They continued on. It was slow-going. After the rockslide and what they'd seen of the mine the last time, both Mike and Sam were suitably paranoid about the possibility of a cave-in. They kept quiet when possible, although their footsteps seemed to echo loudly all the same. Time seemed to slow as they walked. Without any daylight it was hard to tell how much time had passed.

How was it possible to be both bored and incredibly on edge simultaneously? For the hundredth time, Sam was grateful they'd thought to bring chalk to mark their way. Every corner, wall, and intersection started to blend together in her head. How twisty was this damn mine? Carefully she rubbed a red arrow onto a beam and turned the corner again.

There was someone in the tunnel. Her headlamp's beam illuminated a figure with its back to them. Coming up next to her, Mike sucked in a breath. "Is that…?"

The figure didn't turn to look at them. Ragged clothes draped over emaciated shoulders and filthy black hair hung in short, tangled clumps. Their hands were in front of them, fingers wide, as if assessing the ground. Sam took a step forward carefully and could hear a faint muttering.

"…if I went this way and they went that way then up down sideways high ho I should be better at climbing by now just need to find it again yes it's gross I know it's gross doesn't matter if it's gross because I need it gotta have it gotta have it gotta have it…"

She knew that voice.

"Josh?" Her voice was shaking and she couldn't stop it.

The muttering stopped abruptly and he swayed in place. "A person. A person here. I don't have my face on yet. People shouldn't come early. Only really good friends come to a party early."

"Josh, is that really you?" He was here. Real.

He twitched, turning his head slightly to view them from the corner of his eye. Now beside her, Mike froze. "Oh no," she heard him whisper under his breath.

"Oh no?" She glanced at Mike. His eyes were wide as he stared at Josh.

The only warning she had was a faint scuffling sound. She looked back and flinched. His face was an inch from hers, bright and pale in the headlamp's beam. Josh chuckled, a raw low sound in the back of his throat. His eyes, which had been hazy and dull in her dream, were inhuman, pupils blown and black. Half of his face was pulled back in a horrifying grimace, revealing long, razor-sharp teeth. He reeked of old blood and mold and other, unnamable filth. She held her breath, trying not to move.

"Josh, man. Don't…" Mike's voice was perfectly, pointedly calm, even friendly. "You know us, right? You recognize us? We're here to help you."

Josh's head rolled towards Mike and he hissed, tongue darting out to taste the air like a snake. He twitched again and sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. His head slowly turned back to Sam.

Her whole body jerked instinctively as he dropped into a crouch, scenting her. Frigid hands grabbed at her, pulling her bandaged palm forward and, with a jerk, he tore the bandage away. "Fresh," he muttered. He snarled and his head shot forward towards her still-bleeding wound.

"Hey!" Light flashed across the tunnel as Mike brought his flashlight down hard on Josh's shoulder.

It didn't seem to hurt him much, but the unexpected impact sent Josh sprawling. He hissed again and lunged for Mike, tackling him and slamming him back against the tunnel wall. Mike grunted from the force of the contact and shoved, trying to dislodge Josh, who slashed at him with long, sharp nails.

"Josh! Stop!" Sam slid her backpack off one arm and swung it like a flail. It wasn't as forceful as Mike's hit and the bag was softer than the heavy Maglite, but it was enough to distract Josh again.

He leapt off of Mike and landed on the ground between them, his predatory stare shifting between them. Slowly he blinked. It was like watching a person wake from a dream. His eyes seemed to focus on Mike's face, then shifted to Sam and widened in shock. He looked down at his hand, at the streak of Sam's blood glinting on his fingers. "No," he mumbled. "No, no no no no no no."

With another mad chuckle that was almost a sob, he threw himself backwards from them, catching himself on all fours before launching off in a dead run. As he passed a support beam, he shoved it hard, trying to cave in the tunnel. It groaned and shifted, loosened dirt falling in a shower. He did the same to the next one and the next as he fled. A few rocks fell and the tunnel seemed to shake ominously, but stayed more or less intact.

Then he was gone, vanishing into the darkness beyond their lights.

"Josh!" She spun to Mike. "Mike, that was Josh. He—he—"

"He's turning into a wendigo," Mike said grimly.

Sam swallowed hard. "No…" Not after everything. They couldn't have come all the way up here just to find him as a monster. This was worse, worse than him just being dead and gone. They'd have to kill him. "No, it was just a trick of the light. And he's been down here too long and—"

He shook his head. "No, Sam. He's turning into a wendigo. I saw all these photos and lab reports in the Sanatorium. That's what it looks like, the process. Longer teeth, messed up face, all of it." He took her hand to re-wrap the injury. His entire body radiated tension.

"No, it can't be. There was no one up here for him to—" She could barely say it, her stomach roiling. "For him to eat." The realization hit her the same moment it seemed to strike Mike.

"Flamethrower guy. We saw his body that night, right? It must be that. Fuck. He must have been so desperate." Mike's voice was pitying. "Sam, is there anything in the journal about this? I know he sort of recognized us and that's good, but if there isn't some way to reverse it, we're going to have to—"

She cut him off. "I'll look. But we… we need to get through this part. We need to find him. I have something that can maybe help a little."

"What? Anti-wendigo powder?" Sam stared at him and he raised his hands defensively. "Sorry. Bad, terrible joke. I just don't know what to do at this point. When we saw him in the dream, he wasn't like this, was he? I feel like we would have noticed."

Sam ignored the dream comment. "I went to see Dr. Hill," she said quietly.

"What? When?"

"After Ashley and Chris. I had an idea. I found some stuff, last time we were up here. Medical documents and stuff." He nodded, encouraging. Sam plowed ahead. "I guess he went off his meds or something. Withdrawal effects are bad. Hallucinations and worse. Like what we saw when we… when he…"

"I remember."

"But anyway, when I saw him in the dream, he was still hallucinating. Enough that he thought I was a hallucination, right? You saw that?" Mike nodded again. "So he still must be hallucinating. It wouldn't still be withdrawal symptoms after this long. So I went to see Dr. Hill. I thought that he might be able to prescribe something, based on what he knows of Josh and what I could tell him and his medical history."

"That's…" Sam winced, bracing herself for him to tell her how stupid it was, but all he said was: "…genius. That's genius, Sam. Did he give you anything?"

"Yeah. He wasn't happy about it, but he's kind of weird. He didn't really seem that opposed to the idea overall. I think he knows I don't want to take them myself. I don't think he thought we'd find Josh, but I looked up the stuff he gave me and it's legit. So if we can get Josh to take it, it might help him be more himself. At least a little."

"Well we'll have to find him then. And we should look through the journal. Even something small might help, right? Some hint or something?" He grinned. It looked too bright and too hopeful, like a cartoon character come to life. "We'll figure it out. The pills will help him and we'll find something in the journal and we'll figure it out."

Sam finally nodded and turned back to consider the tunnel. The whole right side had caved in. Josh had fled in that direction. She did not want to go that way, but she wasn't sure there was any better way to try to find him. She started to pick her way down the tunnel, Mike behind her. She heard the soft rattle of his pill bottle and pursed her lips.

Hell. She had been right. He was in hell. She couldn't even stomach the idea of eating chicken anymore, let alone anything more advanced. What could have led to Josh being so desperate that he ate human fle—God, she couldn't even think it in her own head. She took careful breaths through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to ease her nausea.

At least the Flamethrower Guy had been practically a stranger. It wasn't as bad as knowing that Hannah had eaten Beth. Sam would always be grateful that she hadn't been the one to find Beth's remains. Emily had been nice about telling her, or at least as nice as Emily ever was. They were still down here somewhere. The rescue teams had deemed it too unsafe to explore the mines too deeply. It suddenly struck her that she could find Beth's remains herself this time, wandering around down here. She flinched away from the thought, although it wasn't as painful as she would have expected. Something about her encounter or dream the night before had helped ease the immediate horror of Beth's death.

Sam didn't realize she was crying until she tasted salt. Another reminder of kissing Beth in her dream. Beth had been so frantic, so terrified. She wasn't okay. Whatever she said about being dead and untouchable, it wasn't true.

More than one Washington was living their own personal hell.

They were going to die here. The realization hit her hard in the gut. There was every chance that none of them would make it down the mountain. Jess and Emily could already be dead. She and Mike could be next. And she had agreed. She could have talked them out of it. She could have warned the Washingtons, had people posted to intercept the others, but she just couldn't let go of the possibility that Josh was alive.

Well, he was. Sort of. And likely going to be the death of them all.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Mike's voice was strong in the darkness behind her. "We're going to be fine, Sam. You and me… we're the top team. We're going to be okay. We were before."

"He attacked you. He attacked me."

"It's fine. We'll figure it out. We've got this."

Something in her chest snapped and she rounded on him. Still walking, he almost ran into her. "Dammit Mike. Stop acting like nothing about this is wrong! Act like a human being for once in your goddamn life instead of Mister Perfect President guy." She rubbed the heel of her hand against her tear-stained cheeks, mercilessly. There was no time for this, no time for any of this fucking delusion.

"What do you want me to say? What would make this better for you?"

She stared at him. "Are you serious? Stop trying to prop me up all the time. This isn't about me, Mike. This is about all of us. And this is about you. Stop pretending like you're fine. I know you're not fucking fine and it doesn't help anything for you to keep acting like you are."

"What do you want to hear?" He rubbed his remaining fingers along his jaw, leaving slight traces of her blood on his skin. "Do you want me to cry myself to sleep and talk about being broken?"

"I want a little bit of honesty. Is that too much to ask?" Sam hugged her arms around her stomach and tried to regulate her breathing. "Mike, I'm not stupid. I know you're having nightmares. I've seen the pills. I just need you to talk to me. You need you to talk to me. Or anyone, really, but your options are kind of limited at the moment."

"The pills are for my hand—"

She cut him off. "Don't lie to me. Maybe they were for your hand at first, but you're taking them more often then you should be and we both know it."

"Sam, is this really the time for an intervention?" Mike smiled, teasingly, and she wanted to smack him. Instead she settled for shoving him hard. He stumbled back and steadied himself on the wall.

"You're right. It's not. I should have known better than to try to talk to you." Turning away, she started to pick her way through the rocks again. She stumbled on a jagged piece of shattered stone and winced as she caught herself on a beam.

"Do you really want to hear about stuff you already know? You want me to tell you that this is all my fault? That Josh turning into a monster and losing his mind down here… that it's my fucking fault?" His voice made it clear it wasn't really a question. He was certain, sure, his voice building steam as he continued. "I was pissed. I thought he'd killed Jess. And even seeing the wendigos, I still thought that maybe it really was him and, well, better him than me anyway right?

"And I hesitated. Even just for a second, it was enough. Hannah took him. And Hannah… that's my fault too. All of this comes back to me. I should have been better. I know that. And even now, I can't seem to shake this sense that…" Mike sounded suddenly exhausted. He shook his head. "Is that what you want me to say?"

She turned to look back at him again. "It wasn't your fault."

His fist hit the wall, sending dirt and flaky chunks of rock skittering onto the ground. Sam winced. "Yes, it fucking is. Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't blame me."

"I don't." Mike growled low in his throat and Sam moved around to face him directly. He was so much taller than she was. Carefully, she gripped his shoulders, pulling him until he looked down at her. "I don't. Do you blame Jess? The prank was her idea." She took a deep breath. "I don't blame anyone. Everyone did stupid stuff that they would take back. You think I wasn't at fault myself? I knew what you guys were doing. I went looking for Hannah. I should have just stood in front of the bedroom and waited to intercept her. If I'd actually thought it through, I could have stopped it all."

"What? No."

"Oh? No?" She laughed bitterly. "You want to talk about the fact that I knew about her massive crush on you? If I was any kind of friend I would have talked her out of it way earlier. You would never have given Hannah the time of day. She wasn't one of yours."

"I knew you blamed me," he said quietly, closing his eyes.

"Mike, you're not listening." Sam hit his shoulder again. "There are things I'm angry about. Sure, I'm angry at you. But that's not the same thing as blaming you. I'm angry at Josh. Shit, I'm angry at Hannah. She might be—have been—my best friend, but she was an idiot. It's not like she's never been up here. She knew what winter is like. She knew lots of other places in the house she could have run to. But she ran out into the snow. I'm pissed at her. I'm angry she died. I'm angry she got Beth killed.

"I'm angry I didn't stop Beth from chasing her. I'm angry you went along with that stupid fucking prank. I'm angry that no one warned any of them that there were monsters up here. I'm angry about so much stuff, Mike." She took a deep breath and glanced up. He was watching her, brown eyes fixed on her face and expression unreadable. "I'm tired of being so angry all the time. I don't like anger. But we all have to face what happened. Anger, sadness, fear… all of it. And you pretending like you don't feel it doesn't help. I need—"

She couldn't say it. Her voice faded to nothing and she focused on breathing. Mike lifted a hand and carefully tucked back her hair where her bangs had escaped her headband. "What do you need, Sam?" His fingers hovered against her cheek.

"I need to know that you feel all this too. I need honesty. There have been so many tricks and pranks and lies. Please, just be honest with me. I need to know I can trust you and I can't do that when you're pretending that everything is all hunky-dory."

Pulling her roughly into him, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "It's hard. "

He was wonderfully warm. She let herself relax, frustration and affection mingling in her chest. "I know." Her voice was slightly muffled by his shirt.

"How do you be that good of a person?"

"You don't. That's not the point." Sam sighed against his chest. "Mike, it's not about being a hero or being whatever it is you think makes a good person. It's about being human."

"I don't want to be human."

She smiled. "Me neither."

His lips pressed against her hair. "Okay. I'll try. I just want to keep you safe, Giddings."

"I know. Can we keep each other safe instead? I don't want you to lose any more fingers. Or die."

Mike laughed, a rumbling chuckle that rolled through her. "I don't want that either. Either option. I'll take door number three, Alex."

"Alex Trebek is Jeopardy, not Let's Make a Deal."

"The only time I ever watched any of them was if I stayed home sick. They all blend together in my head."

"Mike, I have to ask—" She hesitated.

"You can ask me anything. I'll be honest. I promise."

"Do you have enough pills? Enough to last you up here?"

He pulled away roughly. "I'm fine."

Sam groaned. "Mike…"

"No, really. It's… it's fine. I'm being careful."

"I was serious when I said I'm not trying an intervention. We can figure that out if—when we get out of here. But are you going to be okay while we're here?"

"I think so. I'm trying to be careful."

She nodded. "Okay then. Let's keep going."

-o-

"Melinda? Hi, yeah, it's Hank."

"Oh hello Hank. Anything?"

"Could be nothing. There are lots of kids here right now, for skiing season. But Bev says she thinks she might have seen them. No letter jacket or anything, but there were kids in the diner a few nights back and there's a black kid staying at the motel."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Doesn't do much. He just wanders around mostly, when he's out. That's what made her remember the bunch of them the other night. He was with them then and seeing him just hanging around… it's weird. Motel's usually just used by people passing through, not long-term visitors."

"Hmm. That could be Matt—Matthew Taylor. Hank, do you think you could get his name?"

"I can try. What do you want me to do if it is him?"

"Just call me and let me know. I may have to come up there if they really went up to the lodge. It's not safe, but I don't want to get the rescue teams all worked up over nothing."

"Will do. I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I hope it's not him."

"Me too, Hank. Me too."

-o-

Sam screamed: the raw, ugly sound ripped from her throat as the thing withdrew its hand from her stomach. It was over. Somehow, despite everything, it was over. The light in her eyes faded and she dropped to the ground, collapsing in a limp pile.

With a howl of rage, Mike ran at the thing, but it turned, almost casually slowly, and caught him around the throat with the same blood-soaked hand. Its smile grew as it tightened its hold. Mike scrabbled at its arm, trying to pry it off but it squeezed. Its long, thin fingers dug into the soft flesh of his neck, nails piercing his skin. With a hoarse laugh, its hand clenched and Mike jerked violently. It let him fall too, throat crushed.

From somewhere in the dark behind it, a piercing shriek cut through the air and Jess bolted out of the shadows. Josh, face twisted into an obscene, shark-like grin, came after her, leaping and bounding across the uneven ground until he slammed into her from behind, driving her down into the floor.

Ashley didn't wait to watch Jessica die. She ran. The tunnel was uneven under her feet and it took all her concentration to not trip. Her boots pounded along the gravel and packed dirt, her breath coming hard. She was not a runner. She had never been a runner. She would swear if she had the breath for it.

Something large under her feet made her stumble and she glanced down, choking on a sudden sob as she saw Emily's face torn open, her right eye an empty ruin. From behind her she heard Josh singing softly, accompanied by the sound of wet tearing. "And I… want to rock and roll all night… and party every day…" Underneath it all, she could hear a strange tapping sound, slow and rhythmic.

She couldn't bear it. Ashley screamed, her stomach revolting and head throbbing.

With a jolt, she sat up, flinging her blankets to the floor. The only light in the room were the red numbers of the alarm clock: 3:28, with the little dot that meant "AM."

Her throat hurt. Had she really—"Ashley?" Her housemate knocked on her door. "Are you okay? I thought I heard you yell."

"I—I'm fine, Maria. It's fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Okay Ash. I'll see you in the morning." There was a shuffling sound as Maria headed back to her room.

Ashley touched her cheeks with ginger fingers and they came away wet with tears. "Fuck," she whispered. That had been worse. So much worse than most of her nightmares. She hadn't had one that bad since the first few nights after the evening on the mountain. She switched on the light and nearly screamed again.

There were butterflies in her room: at least six or seven. They were brown and red, fluttering about, agitated.

"No."

She stood and shoved the window open, prying the screen out of the frame desperately. One of her fingernails broke and she winced, but kept at it until the whole thing popped. Grabbing a magazine, she flapped it, driving the butterflies out into the night. "Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you," she mumbled. "Get out. Get out!"

Once the last one was gone, she shut the window again and collapsed onto the floor, drawing her knees into her chest.

Red and brown.

Danger and loss.

She could ignore the single yellow butterfly, pretend like it didn't count, like it was just bad memories and trauma that made her so scared, but this? She remembered the thing on the porch that had almost killed Chris, the way she had known, deep down in the pit of her stomach, that Jess's voice calling to her had been wrong. Ashley wasn't sure she could pretend any more. She wasn't sure she wanted to, not if it meant ignoring red and brown.

Not if it meant condemning her friends to what she'd seen in her dream.

Chris was going to be so pissed at her. The thought made her laugh, even as tears continued to stream down her face. Maybe this would be their first official fight as a couple.

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p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-family: 'Calibri Light', sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"strongAuthor Note:/strong Two chapters in a week? Yowza! Call this an apology for the long wait on the previous one./span/span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-family: 'Calibri Light', sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"I adore all of you for reading this story - what started out as a "I'm going to write a Sam/Mike story!" turned into a ridiculously long and complicated sequel to the game that involves everyone. I just couldn't write a rescue mission without addressing all of them. The story would be incomplete if I left any one of them out, the crazy darlings./span/span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-family: 'Calibri Light', sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 13.3333px;"I hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as I love writing it! Comment and feed your local starving writer! 3/span/span/p
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