Chapter Fourteen:

Stay With Me

Jessica followed Hannah. She wasn't sure if she was being led back to the stairs she'd come down or deeper into the basement level, but didn't question it, instead keeping her flashlight fixed on the ghost girl. As they entered another room, a large chamber with its walls lined with shelves and work tables, Hannah paused and sagged again. She turned back to Jess, covering her eyes with a hand.

She and Hannah had never been close, by any standards. They'd hardly even been friends really. Josh and Sam had been the unifying force that entwined the group, pulling all their disparate lives together. Truth be told, Jess knew that she was the most disconnected of all of them, but she never minded. In the early days, she'd had Em and Matt and then later she'd had Mike. There was always someone to talk to, someone to flirt with. Even Josh was fun in his own way, with those shadowed eyes and wicked wit.

So she had no idea how to handle Hannah. She wasn't sure they'd ever had a real conversation, even, just brief exchanges about beer or the pool or some random piece of clothing. Once she'd picked up on Hannah's crush, it had been fun to get her to blush with comments about Mike, and then there was the disastrous prank, but she had no idea what to do with this. How did you comfort a dead girl? How did you even interact with a dead girl?

But Hannah was dead. And that, really, was her fault. So she would try. Matt always said she was a good listener. She would try that. "What is it, Hannah? What's wrong?"

Her voice shook, as if she was on the verge of tears. "I'm all alone here," she confessed.

"What about Beth? If she di—I mean, isn't she around here somewhere?" Oh, very smooth, Jess. Good show. She wished it was true, though. Jess had always liked Beth. She was calmer, always welcoming.

Hannah's facial expression flickered and an emotion Jess couldn't identify washed over her face. "Beth?" she whispered, her voice not matching the movements of her lips.

"Yeah? Is she around too?"

"Bethhh—" The word was long and drawn out, creeping through the air and wrapping around Jess until she felt dizzy. "Why would perfect Beth be stuck here with me? It'd be heaven for her, where she'd read all day and lie with Sam in the sunshine." Hannah's voice was bitter, lonely—things Jess understood all too well.

Jess leaned against the wall, letting her head settle again. Then she took a deep breath. Maybe she could do this, after all. She could help Hannah. She could do something to make coming here worth it. Standing straight, she walked towards the girl. "I know about being alone, Han. But you don't have to be. I'm here. Let me help."

Hannah's disembodied laugh rolled over her. "You don't know about being alone. You're Jessica Riley."

"Yeah, I do. Everyone is lonely sometimes. And everyone is alone sometimes. Some more than others. I don't know about this—" She gestured around at the cold, broken room. "—but I do get being alone. And rejection. And missing people you care about."

She reached out and took Hannah's hand. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. The girl felt like ice, or colder than ice. It was like being naked in the snow all over again, only all of it concentrated into her fingers. Her hand jerked instinctively away but she couldn't pull back. Hannah's fingers felt soft, almost nonexistent, except for the intense cold of it.

"You want to leave me," Hannah's voice hissed, her had raising to stare at Jess. "I knew you would."

"No, Hannah." She squirmed, trying to pull her hand away while reasoning with her. "No, it just hurts. I'm not leaving."

"You want to leave me!" she repeated. "After everything, you want to leave me too!"

"Hannah, no." Her bones ached with cold. It was biting, brutal, seeping up her arm into her wrist, her forearm. "Please, Hannah. I'm not leaving. It just hurts."

The dead girl's eyes were fixed on her face. "Stay with me," she whispered. "Stay with me."

Familiar pain pulsed in her head and Hannah's face swam in her vision. The whole room was tilting dizzily around her. Maybe Emily was right and she'd been stupid to come here with her head still a mess. Who was she fooling, anyways? She could feel her own weakness in the pit of her stomach. All she'd done so far was get them lost in the mine and then trapped here with Hannah. She had even wandered off on her own. She'd found a weapon and been too scared to even try it.

Jess closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. She remembered Emily's expression, the cold, shuttered look in her eyes after Jess had done something stupid on that long-ago night after winter formal. She remembered seeing Beth vanish into the snow as she chased after her sister, fleeing Jess's vicious laughter. She remembered finding out that Emily was dating Matt, the way Em had shut the door in her face when she'd shown up at Matt's house.

The sensation in her hand was fading, the pain spreading up her arm further. Her elbow seemed to creak with cold, her skin burned with it.

"Stay with me, Jess?" Hannah's voice broke. "I'm all alone. But together, we don't have to be."

The idea was increasingly tempting. There was so little Jess could do to help her friends, but if she stayed with Hannah, it would be what she deserved. Hannah wouldn't be alone and Jess… she could finally do penance for all her stupid, impetuous decisions. She had killed Hannah, really. It was only right that she should be the one to help, to assuage her loneliness at least a little.

"We don't have to be," Jess repeated, softly. "Stay with me."

"Stay with me." The cold was oddly sweet. She tried to wiggle her fingers against Hannah's and couldn't feel them. That was nice too. Her shoulder ached, the freezing cold creeping along her collarbone towards her throat and down across her ribs. She swayed slightly in place, waiting.

Ready.

"Get the fuck away from her, you ghost bitch!"

Jess's eyes sprang open just as something dark came sweeping down onto Hannah's arm. It passed clean through, but Hannah hissed. She wasn't stuck anymore, Jess realized, stumbling back numbly. It was hard to focus, to bring her attention back to what was happening around her.

"Came out of your hidey-hole?" Hannah's sing-song voice was full of laughter. It sounded weird, like a totally different person than the one who had been so desperate only a moment ago.

A figure shoved in front of her, one arm holding a club of some kind. "Fuck you."

"No thank you. You're not my type. You know my type, though, don't you?" Hannah, a blur identified only by her white shift, paced back and forth in front of them, like a restless animal.

The figure scoffed and Jess suddenly recognized it as Emily. "Get over it. Jesus, bitch. It's been more than a year. Move on already. Find the great beyond or whatever." Angry Emily. Angry Emily was a bad Emily, Jess thought dully. Angry Emily was good at being mean.

"Why would I? I have both you of you right where I want you." Hannah giggled and vanished in a flicker.

Cold. There was so much cold, everywhere. Soft, nearly insubstantial fingertips ghosted along Jess's face, pressing closer and closer to her temples. She wanted to move. She didn't want to move. Hannah was lonely. Hannah shouldn't be lonely. She let her eyes flutter closed again.

"No!" Hands that seemed fire-hot in comparison grabbed her wrists, tugging her forward. She fell away from Hannah's grip and heavily into Emily's arms. "Come on, Jess. We have to run."

"Stay with me," she mumbled. That was important. An important thought.

"No, stay with me. Shit. Run." And then she was stumbling along, being pulled behind Emily. Her legs were moving, somehow, although she didn't seem to have much control over them. Her eyes focused on things randomly as they ran: splintered wood, broken bricks, a staircase under her, shattered glass, Hannah's drawn and angry face, Hannah's tearful eyes, Hannah's grasping hands, Emily's back, snow, and dirt.

Emily stopped abruptly, pulling Jess around her and shoving her forward. Jess fell to her hands and knees. Cold. More cold. But this cold was wet and real.

Rolling to her side, Jess blinked up at the snow falling on her face. Her whole arm hurt. She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in front of her face, wonderingly.

"Get back from the opening," Emily snapped.

As quickly as she could, she obeyed, shoving herself backwards awkwardly. Then Em was beside her, standing stock-still and staring out. Jess shook her head, trying to shake the fog that had crept over her. They were… outside? Snow was already thick on her legs and shoulders. She looked around. It was dark and odd shapes loomed out at her, but didn't move.

"Where are we?"

"Some kind of graveyard." Em didn't look at her, still watching a gap in what seemed to be a chain link fence. "Hannah can't get in here for some reason."

Hannah. "Oh Em. She's so alone."

"Good."

"You don't mean that. You don't understand. She's so lonely."

Emily spared her a glance, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "So, what, you were going to die and be a ghost with her?"

"No—yes? Maybe." Jess rubbed her head. "I don't know."

They were silent, waiting. They didn't have long to wait. With the distinctive flicker Jess was coming to expect, Hannah appeared, her face fixed in a wide smile. "Hiding? Cowards." Her head turned to Jess and tipped to the side. "I thought you understood."

"I… I do."

"No, you don't. Shut up, Jess." Emily glared at Hannah. "Back off. You can't get in here."

"No?" Hannah's smiling gaze slowly turned back to Em. Her eyes fixed on something behind them and, if possible, her smile grew even wider. "But maybe you shouldn't be in there be either."

"Souillure," something hissed softly, drawing out the sibilance of the word as Jess imagined a snake would.

Emily spun, lifting the wood over her head like a club. Climbing to her unsteady feet, Jess looked back too. There was no one there. At least no one she could see. After talking to Hannah, though, she wasn't going to take anything for granted. "Hello?"

"Show yourself!" Emily called in challenge. Behind them, Hannah giggled and there was the sound of hands clapping together excitedly.

"Saletés et blasphemes…" The voice swept around her and Jess turned, trying to follow it. It made her slightly dizzy and she forced herself to stop and stand still. Emily waved her club menacingly. "Me comprenez-vous, fille?"

Jess suddenly wished she had taken French instead of Spanish. Fille meant girl, but the rest of it was totally lost on her. She glanced at Emily, who was glaring around at nothing in particular. "It's really goddamn rude to not even show your face," Emily snapped. She backed towards the chain link, then seemed to remember Hannah and stopped in her tracks.

"Verlaussen," it said. That was German. She didn't speak German either. Fuck. With a casual flick of its hand, Emily went flying. She slammed into the chain link, sending rippling shakes along the length of it.

"Em!" Jess scrambled over, pulling her away from the fence and Hannah, who was running her finger along the chain link and humming softly. They stumbled back into what Jess now realized was a graveyard, wooden crosses and small stone markers jutting out of the ground at irregular spots.

"You are a child." The voice said in heavily accented English. "You understand that, I think."

Emily bristled. "I am nineteen, you unbearable asshole."

"A child." The snow was still falling steadily, piling on her shoulders and hair. Emily pulled away from Jess and took a blind step backwards. Jess grabbed her and stopped her from moving, looking at Hannah's wide, waiting smile.

"Um, we're very sorry for intruding, but can't we please just stay here for a little while? Until she leaves?" Jess tried to look disarming. The trick, in her experience, was to look helpless and slightly dazed. At the moment, it wasn't hard. Her head still spun and she clung to Emily as much for support as to keep her from leaving.

"Déchets d'esprit," it spat.

Jess peered into the darkness. She thought she could see it, a cutout of darker black against the night, a place the snow didn't touch. "It's not mad at me? Why isn't it mad at me?" she muttered to Emily.

"Because you did your stupid Disney princess fainting thing and it feels bad for you," Em snapped back.

"Because she does not desecrate," it said simply. Then it was there, next to Emily, a cutout silhouette of a person, reaching out with one hand towards her face.

Emily yelped and ducked away instinctively, hopping across a grave.

"What did you do, Em? Fuck, what did you do?" Jess tried to think, tried to piece it together, but her brain wouldn't work. There were too many missing pieces. When did Emily desecrate a grave? How did she manage to piss off this… whatever it was so badly?

"Oh! Um…" Emily glanced at the club she still held and bent to wedge it into a crevice on one of the broken crosses. "I'm… sorry? Sorry. I didn't think, I just…" She floundered around for an apology. Jess would have laughed if she wasn't so worried that the thing was going to keep going.

The silhouette was perfectly still for a long moment, then inclined its head slightly and vanished. Hannah screamed, the sound ripping through the air. "No! No, no, no, no, no!" The girls spun to face her as she threw herself against the invisible barrier. "You're mine! You're both mine! I waited, I deserve it. Don't leave me out here all alone!" The energy fell out of her and she collapsed back, staring at them with reddened eyes. "Jess, please? I thought… you promised."

"I—"

"She's not yours," Em said fiercely, shoving in front of Jess. "You can't get in here, Hannah."

The ghost girl straightened. "Maybe not. But you can't stay in there forever either." She smiled. "I'll see you both soon."

With another flicker, she vanished. They were, from all they could tell, utterly alone in the small, snowy graveyard.

Jess looked at Emily. "Um… so what now?"

-o-

Cold, dry fingers touched Sam's cheek and jolted her awake. She sat upright, looking around wildly. "What is—" Josh was squatting in front of her, his hand still outstretched.

"Sorry Sammy. Had to be sure. Had to be sure you were really here."

There was movement in the corner of her eye and she glanced at Mike, who was approaching slowly, and shook her head. "I'm really here, Josh. How are you feeling?" His eyes shifted to stare at something over her shoulder and she looked back. Nothing was there. Taking a deep breath, she took a chance. "It's not real, Josh. There's nothing there."

He twitched and then smiled at her brightly. "Sammybird. Like a canary in the mine. Ha!" His laugh was hoarse, more of a bark than anything. "And you're blonde too. How nice of you to match the theme. Means I don't have to bleach your hair. It would be tough. As you can see, there's no reputable salon down here."

She wanted to scream. She'd known the pills wouldn't be an instant cure—she'd told Mike as much yesterday—but she'd hoped there would be some improvement. Yet Josh seemed just as out of it as he had the day before, babbling and uncertain.

Abruptly Josh sagged back and flopped down to sprawl on the ground. He was so thin it was painful to see: his collarbones stood out and his jaw looked sharp enough to cut. He closed his eyes and began humming softly, waving his hands lazily above him as if conducting an orchestra in his own mind. After a moment, Sam recognized the song, out of tune as it was. David Bowie. Kooks. That was one of Melinda's favorites. Sam had a distinctive memory of Melinda singing it while she cooked.

"…'cause we believe in you…" she sang along, quietly. Josh's hands stilled and he cracked an eye open to peer at her. She couldn't read his expression.

Mike approached slowly and crouched down next to them. "Hey, Sam? We should probably… the thing we talked about yesterday?"

Her stomach reminded her loudly. Food. They needed food. She nodded. "Yeah. Do you mind—would it be totally stupid to give him what I have left?"

"If you didn't suggest it, I was going to. We could go a few days without. It would suck, but it's doable. Him, on the other hand…"

"'Him' can hear you!" Josh called out in a sing-song voice. "Him is in the room and is tired of people pretending like he isn't!"

Sam tugged her pack into her lap and opened it, rummaging in the bottom for the food she'd brought. They'd gone through a bit of it, but she still had some. She retrieved the remainder of her bulk trail mix and various dried fruit leather and power bars. "Josh, we have some food. It's not much, but hopefully it'll help while we go—"

"Go?" Josh sprang to his feet so quickly it made both of them jump. "You can't go. Don't go, Sammy. Don't go. You can't leave me here. Don't leave me again. Please don't leave me again. I don't want to be alone in the dark any more. And I can't tell. Are you real? You always leave when you come here. Don't leave me." His words were almost incoherent in their rush.

"No!" Sam stood and grabbed Josh's hands, bringing him to a standstill. She squeezed them tightly. It was like the old days, when she would try to get warmth into his hands. She rubbed her thumbs along his palms in the old, familiar pattern. "We're going to come back. I promise. Here." She pressed another pill into his palm and handed him the canteen. "Take this. Eat what I have and rest. We're going to get more food and we'll be back."

"More food? Real food?" If he'd been a dog, his ears would have perked up, but he didn't look happy and eager. He looked ragged, ravenous, dangerous. It took every ounce of willpower Sam had not to shrink back from him.

She nodded. "Yeah. We were going to go explore and see what we can find. Do you know—do you know where your family might have stashed some canned goods or other stuff that would have kept? Like emergency ration-type things? We thought we would look in the lodge—"

He frowned, expression petulant and stubborn. "No."

"Liar," she said with a little smile. "You forget I know you Josh. I can tell when you're lying to me."

"Not always."

Snorting, she grinned at him, trying to get him to smile again and engage. "Always. Like the time you told Melinda that Chris ate the last blondie, because you knew she wouldn't get mad at a guest. Didn't think I knew about that one, did you? I could always tell when you were full of it."

He didn't smile, just watched her seriously. "Not always, Sam," he repeated softly.

The intensity in his face made her even more uncomfortable than the violent hunger. She forced a smile and pulled back, grabbing her hat off the ground. "Just take the pill, okay? And stay here. We can find you. We're marking our way so we don't get lost. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Without another word, Josh turned away and dropped to his knees beside her small pile of vegan offerings. He downed the pill and then grabbed the first item to wolf it down.

Mike stood and cleared his throat. "Uh… not too fast, man. If you eat too much too quick, you might get sick."

Whether Josh was going to listen or not, Sam didn't want to waste time.

Now that they'd found the elevator shaft, both of them had a much better sense of where they were. They made good time, carefully marking their path and making their way to the passageway into the old hotel. Here and there they saw more green and blue marks and their excitement grew with every one they found.

"How did they end up in the mine, though?" Mike asked as they entered the old hotel.

Sam shrugged. "No idea. But we'll ask them when we find them." She grinned at him. Just knowing that they survived the rock slide at all made her feel infinitely more hopeful.

"If they haven't killed each other first."

She laughed. "I mean, maybe, but with Jess, I doubt…" She broke off. That wasn't really any of her business.

"Doubt what?"

"Nothing. Just… a theory I had in high school. Doesn't matter. I wonder if they kept marking their way in here too. That would be nice."

But they saw no markings as they picked their way through the old hotel and directly to the lodge's unfinished basement. Sam led them to the staircase up to the house. "Okay, so no promises," she told Mike as he followed her up the crumbling stairs. It was bizarre being back, and on such a mundane errand. She remembered stumbling down these exact steps in just her towel, heart going wild in her chest.

She didn't realize she'd paused until she felt Mike's hand on her back. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I—yeah. Sorry. Just… stuff, you know?"

"Stuff?"

"Josh stuff."

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment, then asked hesitantly: "Do you want to talk about it? I know… I mean, I heard you didn't really talk about it much. Afterwards."

She shook her head firmly. "No, it's fine. There's no point in obsessing about it. Just Josh getting too into his own brain and a prank that just got way out of hand and—"

Mike interrupted before she could babble on. "Sam. Stop. Look, I know the bare bones of what he did and… it's not okay. No matter what. It's not okay that he did that to you. Or Chris or Ashley. He was your friend. There's no excuse."

"He's sick, Mike."

"I don't give a shit if he's sick," he snapped and she looked at him, startled. His face was fierce and furious. She'd almost never seen Mike look so angry. Mike didn't do angry. Mike did confident and brash and joking and, yeah, sometimes he did mad, but he never did furious. Only when he'd thought Josh had killed Jess. That was the only other time she'd ever seen an expression like this on his face. He met her eye and looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I get that he's sick. I'm glad you have meds. I hope they work and I hope we can save him and I hope we can bring him down off this godforsaken mountain. I do. But it doesn't excuse what he did."

Sam didn't know what to say. "He—"

Mike shook his head, interrupting her again. "Stop making excuses. I know he's your friend, Sam. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be an asshole and I know I end up being an asshole, like, 99% of the time anyway, but still. If you want to forgive him, that's fine, but, as you so eloquently yelled at me in the mine, 'don't pretend like you're fine.'"

She laughed and she punched his shoulder lightly. "Turnabout's fair play, I guess."

"I'm just saying—"

Now it was her turn to interrupt. "I know. Thanks. I appreciate it." He gave her a disbelieving look and she smiled. "No, really. I appreciate it. It's just, I feel guilty about leaving him here, and what he did to Chris and Ashley was so much worse, that I just… I have to get over it."

"Why?"

"Why? Because we have to move on, right? There's no point lingering over stuff that happened in the past. Mistakes were made. Now we fix them." She turned to keep climbing.

Mike followed. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I hope you know it's not a contest though."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that what he did to Chris and Ash was worse. That doesn't matter. It's not a competition for who suffered the most. You don't have to medal in it to feel bad or be messed up from what happened."

The door at the top of the stairs was shut and locked. It shifted a little when she shoved it, though, which was promising. If it was blocked, it wouldn't move at all. "Here," Mike said, stepping up next to her. "Let me be good for something." He put his shoulder into it, slamming into the door with a heavy thump. It took two more tries before the handle gave with a cracking sound. The wood, made brittle by its month of exposure to winter weather, splintered around the lock and Mike half-fell through the doorway into the space beyond.

He preened, flexing his biceps. "For I am Mike, the human battering ram. All doors tremble before me!"

"Nerd."

"Human battering ram," he corrected, grinning.

"Okay, fine Captain Human-Battering-Ram. I am duly impressed by your ability to be less breakable than the door you ran into. Shall we?"

They could see the destroyed front of the house, the blown-out windows and blackened, unstable staircase. Sam was tempted to try to climb them, to get back to Beth's room, but the memory of Josh's desperation and starvation kept her focused. They picked their way through the destruction to the kitchen and began searching the cupboards as quickly as they could.

"Did the Washingtons have a dog?" Mike asked, turning to show Sam the canned dogfood he'd found.

"I think they used to, but it was a long time ago. I am not eating dogfood, Munroe."

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting it. It has meat in it anyway. Dog wasn't vegan, apparently. Slacker."

On a partially broken rotating shelf in a corner cabinet, Sam found a few bulk boxes of cans. She sorted through them eagerly. Garbanzo beans, black beans, refried beans… certainly not glamourous food, but better than nothing. She ducked under the ruin of the sink, searching for plastic bags or anything they could use to hold the cans.

"Here, I'll do that." Mike scooped up the food, packing them up for easy transport. "There's a lot here. I was worried."

"Look around and see if you can find more. I'd bet this wasn't their only stash of cans. They probably have other stuff and anything that isn't moldy is worth taking. I'm going to go check the bathroom. See if I can find any bandages or towels or anything we can bring for Josh." She crept down the hallway. The house groaned around them, complaining at every slight wind. The beams that had been so beautiful, so carefully chosen to fit with the lodge's Craftsman style, now seemed ominous, as if they could come crashing down on her head at any moment. In another month, Sam thought, the house would be entirely unstable. The Washingtons would have to take a wrecking ball to it and just start new if they wanted to stay up here ever again.

Somehow she doubted that they would try.

The guest half-bath was inaccessible. Part of the ceiling had fallen and blocked the door. It was possible she could get in from the outside, but there were other things to check first. The full bathroom down the hall had seen broken plumbing of some kind. The walls were wet and mold was growing visibly in the corner over the shower.

She sighed and ducked down, using her head lamp to illuminate the cabinet under the sink. Jackpot! A brown plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol. She laughed at herself. What was her life that she was thrilled to find rubbing alcohol? It wasn't the most useful item in the world, but it was helpful. With Mike's pack missing and her own meagre first aid supplies dwindling, anything to supplement their supplies was worth its weight in gold. Josh had more than a few cuts and scrapes himself, from what she'd seen. When they got back, she'd have to try to get him to let her patch him up.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

Sam froze. She knew that noise. Don't look, Sam, Beth had said. Something old. Something bad. She straightened. Turning as slowly as she could, she braced herself for whatever she might see. It was probably nothing, she thought. She was just tense and ready to be scared.

There was nothing there. The window was filthy with soot and dirt. She took a step closer, peering through the glass. The haze on the window turned the dark, snowy woods outside into a dreamscape. A hellish one, crusted with filth and memories.

She listened, waiting for the tapping to continue, but there was only silence in the bathroom. Shrugging, she ducked back down to rummage for anything else. A box of bandaids was waterlogged and useless, though she found a stack of spare towels that, while a little dusty, seemed usable enough. She scooped them up in one arm and grabbed the glass bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Tap. She whirled and still saw nothing. It was just her imagination getting to her.

Sam crossed through the hallway to the other side, scanning around for dry blankets. The huge living room was freezing, open and exposed to the elements. Snow drifted in to settle on blackened rubble that was once couch or armchair or something. She glanced up the stairs. The temptation to climb them was strong, to try to trace the route she'd used to follow Beth's ghost or memory or whatever it had been.

There could be all kinds of supplies on the upper floors. She knew that, but if she was being honest with herself, that wasn't why she wanted to go. She wanted to be back in Beth's room. She wanted to pretend for a moment like Josh wasn't rapidly turning into a monster somewhere below them.

"Hey Sam? I found some tablecloths and stuff. Would that be good?" Mike's voice from the kitchen broke her out of her reverie. Going upstairs would be stupid. It was lucky enough that she survived climbing them the first time.

She headed for the kitchen, passing through the dining room. Leaning in the doorway, she smiled at him. "Yeah, it couldn't hurt. More cloth, right? I wish we could get him some new clothes."

"Maybe the coat closet is intact?"

"Maybe. I'll go check."

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

Mike seemed to notice that she froze. He frowned. "What is it?"

"Do you hear that?"

"The tapping sound?"

The window that looked out over the back blew inward. Mike threw himself to the ground instinctively, throwing his arms over his head. Sam dropped the bathroom supplies she'd found and covered her face, shielding it from the broken glass.

Tap.

The tapping sounded different, wood instead of glass. Her head jerked up. A monster, bigger than Hannah had been, hung through the window, tapping one claw like fingernail on the window frame. Its fierce, rictus grin was full of amusement. "It's—very nice—to—meet you—Sammy." The voice was broken, pieced together from others' voices, familiar and unfamiliar. Mostly, though, it borrowed Josh's words, stringing them together in a new order for a new meeting.

Mike stood slowly. He was closer to it than she was and she saw his eyes darting between her and the thing and back. She wanted to shake her head, to signal to him to stop, but she was fixated by the thing's eyes on hers, holding her in place like a rabbit in headlights. Mike lunged for it.

One long, talon-fingered hand shot out and caught Mike in the chest, sending him flying. He tried to catch himself, turning, but only succeeded in his elbow and forearm cracking against the island. It sent a shattered piece of wood up to tear a jagged gash along his face as he fell. He was on his feet again as soon as he landed, staggering around to try to get a handle on the situation. Fire. It was like the wendigos from before. That meant fire was the best option.

He groped in his pocket and pulled out his lighter. It didn't seem to mind, or at least it didn't realize what it was he held. Its head swung between Mike and Sam, who stood frozen. Mike grabbed a broken table leg and tried to light the splintered end. It didn't want to catch. He wished he had time to tie some cloth around it or something, but… His eyes fell on the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Grabbing for the bottle, the thing lunged at him, springing up to land on the island. It laughed at Mike: a startlingly human laugh that made his stomach seize up.

"Hey!" As he unscrewed the cap quickly, he saw Sam running.

The blonde girl swung her flashlight at the back of the thing's head, just as Mike had done to Josh so recently. It glanced off and the thing turned, jumping back down off the island and straightening. Her eyes widened as it stretched upwards. It was easily seven feet tall when standing straight and it towered over her, even as hunched as it still was.

Its cheeks split as it smiled, wider than any human could smile. Its teeth were long and sharp and seemed too crowded to fit in its mouth properly, like a shark. Fumbling slightly, Mike doused the wood with alcohol and dropped the bottle. Then it lunged, one hand shooting out, grabbing her around the neck.

Sam didn't even have time to yell. She just made a faint gasping sound as it threw her through the wall. Plaster flew everywhere, sending up a cloud of white. The table leg went up in a crackling rush of flame. With a shout, Mike threw himself forward, not thinking. He shoved the makeshift torch into the thing's face.

It growled and brushed the torch aside, knocking it out of his hand and onto the ground. It caught in the remnants of the spilled bottle of rubbing alcohol with a whoosh. Clearly the creature hadn't been expecting that; it hissed at the fire as it spread to the broken furniture. Then it turned back to Mike and rushed forward, grabbing at him and ramming him hard into the brick partition.

It smiled. Emaciated cheeks pulled wide, revealing sharp teeth. They were tinged the brown of old blood or rust. "You're," it said in Jess's unmistakably bubbly voice, "cute."

Mike flinched and its smile widened. It reached out and ran a rocklike nail down his cheek, catching at his open wound. "I see," it said in Emily's bitter tone. "What she saw," the voice was Hannah's. "In you," Sam concluded.

"Don't," he said, closing his eyes. He couldn't bear it. He'd rather die than listen to it stealing their voices, pretending to be them.

"Can't stop, man." It was easier to handle with his eyes closed. He could listen to it transition from Chris to Matt to someone he didn't recognize and hear how the words didn't match. It was like listening to an automated message system on a phone line. The words made sense in order, but the tone and mood didn't fit. "Won't ever stop, bro."

"Why?" He didn't want to know, but he had to ask. "Why are you doing this? Why not just eat us? Why would you—Sam—"

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammybird," it parroted back in Josh's voice. Then it shifted to someone Mike didn't recognize. "Dull. Alone. Bored." The nails trailed down his nose and along his jawline. They were sharp. Any pressure and it could kill him easily. He tried not to move. "We can always grab dinner later, darling." The unknown woman's voice was posh and flirtatious.

There was a wild snarl from the right and the thing hissed loudly. Mike's eyes sprang open just as it was torn away from him and flung backwards. Josh landed in front of him in a crouch. "Go," Josh choked out, his voice barely recognizable.

"No way. Sam would kill me if I—"

"Jesus fucking bicycle bunny Christ, Munroe. Get your ass in gear!" The thing threw itself forward and Josh launched himself at it. "She'd kill you—for trying—to fight—this thing!" Josh spat the words between growls.

Mike was brave. He wasn't stupid. He ran, bolting for the hole in the wall left by Sam. He had to find her, get them both away from here. Behind him he heard Josh and the thing hissing and snarling as they engaged. He paused, glancing back. The thing had at least a good fifty pounds on Josh. It was taller, broader, although wiry. Josh was focused on it completely, dodging its swipes and using his momentum to propel himself around and under it. His face was twisted and as inhuman as Mike had ever seen it, yet he had still had enough presence of mind to send Mike running.

As if sensing his thought, Josh caught his eye and jerked his head towards the hole in the wall.

Mike went, hurdling the pile of rubble and landing in a shower of pebbles on the other side. He looked around wildly. Where was Sam? She should have landed somewhere out here. The fire was catching, spreading. What was it with him and property damage? Smoke poured from the hole in the wall.

"Sam?" He rushed further into the yard, scanning for any sign of her. His eyes watered from the smoke and he fought off a cough. He needed to find her and get them out of here.

Sam stumbled through the smoke, coughing and trying to blink the spots out of her eyes. Everything blurred and slid together. Snow drifted down onto her skin. "Mike?" She groped along the wall, holding herself upright. There was no sign of him.

The last she'd seen, he'd been trying to light as she'd gone through the wall. Her entire body ached. It was hard to move her head and her left hip was a blaze of agony. Where was Mike? He would have been no match for a thing like that, alone and unarmed. "Mike!" The name tore from her like a howl of agony, ripping along her throat painfully. "Mike?"

She spun, trying to orient herself in the smoke and snow. Something warm was creeping slowly down her forehead and she rubbed at it before it could hit her eyes; her hand came away red with blood.

A figure approached through the smoke and she froze, unsure whether she should run towards it or away from it. But then the wind picked up momentarily and the smoke parted. "Sam—Sam I'm here." Mike ran the last few steps, catching her up in a hug that lifted her off her feet. Her body complained at the treatment, but she ignored her aches and pains. He was alive.

Her eyes devoured his face, dimly noting the shoot streaking his face and the open cut splitting along the side of his face. He looked awful: tired, ragged, and in pain. But he was alive. It was enough.

"Mike?" Her hands found his chest, his shoulders, his face. She ran her fingers through her hair, ghosted them along his injured cheek. "You're alive. I thought—I was trying to—" His hands were on her too, running up her arms, over her shoulders and throat. It was the most beautiful thing she could have asked for: assurance that he was alive, that she was still alive, that this nightmare could continue. There was hope, as long as they could keep breathing.

As long as she didn't lose him. As long as she wasn't alone.

"Shh…" His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Sam, it's okay."

"I thought you were dead. I saw you with that thing and then the fire started and I just thought—" His eyes were so warm, a rich brown like the damp, fertile soil from her garden back home. Home.

He shook his head. "No, it's gone. I didn't know, though… It threw you and then the wall and the fire… I was worried that—" He started to laugh. It was infectious. The sheer joy of being alive, of finding each other in the smoke and escaping that thing swept them up, holding them somehow above the reality of what was happening. It was ridiculous, laughing at a time like this. Some small part of Sam's brain reminded her that they were still in danger, but she couldn't listen to it.

And then she was kissing him. Or perhaps he was kissing her. His lips were chapped and tasted of blood and concrete. That same joy that led to their laughter coursed through the contact. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down into her. His hands were on the small of her back, drawing her in, closer, desperately pressing her against him.

Her entire body sang with adrenaline and something more, her blood burning in her veins. They stumbled back slightly until her back met the bark of one of the birch trees. He pinned her against the rough surface. His body was hard, hot, real against her and an involuntary sound—something close to a moan—was pulled from her throat.

The wind was rising, tugging at their hair and clothing, bringing with it the acrid tang of burning rubber.

He pulled back slightly. "I—" He laughed again breathlessly. Sam looked up at him; he looked stunned, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. "Um—"

Sam shoved him back, taking a shuddering breath. "We need to get out of here."

"Sam, I—"

"No. I… We'll… we'll talk about it later. We need to move. This is unsafe. There might be more." She took another deep breath, trying to kick her mind back into gear, to pretend that hadn't just happened and focus. "Where did it go?"

Mike looked around, but there was no sign of Josh or the thing that had attacked them. "I don't know. Josh, he—He's why I got out. He must have followed us. Or followed the chalk markings to find an exit and then found us. He was fighting it. It was stronger, I think, and bigger. Josh is faster though."

She blanched. Josh was fighting that thing? He might be turning into a monster, but there was no way he had the strength or health to even stand a chance against it. "We have to—" She started to turn, to scan the ground for any track or sign of where they'd gone, but Mike caught her arm.

"No, no, don't. I bet he led it away from us. He'll catch up. I know it. Sam, he made me run. He's still Josh, somewhere in there. That means he's smart. He can lose it. We should get out of here though. He'll find us."

She cast one more desperate look around, but nodded. Even that simple action made her head and neck ache and she knew she'd be feeling even worse tomorrow. If they made it to tomorrow. She wanted to talk to Beth, to ask her what she knew about the thing that had attacked them. It was like the wendigos, but bigger, smarter. Remembering its smile made her skin crawl.

It could be anywhere. It could have killed Josh and be on its way back to them now.

The fire was dying out again, from a combination of the dirt and snow that had been thrown onto it from Josh's fight with the thing and from a lack of easy, dry fuel. Mike stooped down and grabbed the bag of canned food. Neither spoke, both too paranoid about seeing the thing reemerge from the woods again. They left through Sam's hole in the wall exit again, winding their way around the side of the lodge.

The sun was coming up, turning the world shades of grey and pale blue, despite the remaining heavy cloud cover. They could still smell smoke. The woods were almost ominously silent, save for the crunch of their feet in the snow. No birds sang, no rustles in the underbrush signaled rabbits or deer. It was good, Sam told herself. It meant that if the thing came back, they'd hear it right away. All the same, though, she could feel the wrongness of it under her skin. Even in the winter, there should be something.

She tossed her head, shaking off the most recent layer of snow. She realized they hadn't talked about where they were going. The thing could be anywhere. Going back in the mine seemed especially stupid, since that seemed to be where all the other wendigos had seemed most at home. But her bag was there with their remaining supplies. They still didn't know where Emily and Jess were, and now Josh was missing again too.

Fuck. The word didn't make it past her lips but she must have made some sound, since Mike slipped his free hand into hers. He didn't speak, just squeezed her hand.

She clicked off her headlamp, pulling it from her forehead to shove into her pocket for safekeeping. The sky was light enough to see that the note they'd left for the girls was still on the front door. She couldn't imagine they would have put it back, which meant they hadn't been here. She glanced at Mike and he smiled reassuringly. "We know they made it, though," he reminded her.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Back to the mine? Or the old hotel? Our options are increasingly limited."

Running footsteps crunched rapidly in the snow behind her and Sam jolted, spinning and raising her hands defensively. Warm arms tackled her, sending her staggering back a foot. "Sam! Oh Sam, it's so good to see you!" Jess's voice was muffled against Sam's coat.

"Jessica? Holy shit!"

Emily was just behind her. She wasn't as exuberant as Jess, but she was smiling, relief evident on her face. "It's really good to see you guys," she said.

Mike went to hug her, then hesitated. Emily raised an eyebrow at him and he waved awkwardly instead. "I'm so glad you guys are okay," he said, hefting the bag of canned goods and towels onto his hip. "We—ah—we should move, though. Reunion party later. Something… we have a lot to tell you guys."

"Us too," Emily said shortly.

Jess pulled back from Sam and hugged Mike tightly. "Okay, yeah. Good idea."

-o-

Chris didn't often miss landlines, but he really wished he could slam the fucking phone down on its fucking cradle. There was something deeply unsatisfying about touching the screen to hang up on someone.

Or, not someone, as it turned out, since no one was answering their god damn phones.

He let his head fall to rest on the wheel of his truck. Ash was gone. Marie had said she'd packed up and headed to the airport. Her letter was shoved in his pocket, a crumpled mess. She'd gone back. He'd thought she'd agreed with him, had seen that it was all just some trick their minds had played, but she'd gone back. And now she was putting herself at the mercy of the mountain just to… to what?

Sam hadn't answered his call, which he'd expected. He knew she'd already gone and he knew the mountain had no signal. After scrounging around, he'd gotten Mike's number and Emily's, but they didn't answer either. Ashely's number had rung for a minute before ending. She was screening his calls. At least that meant she was still somewhere where her phone could get calls at all.

The car, turned off and parked, was getting hot. He raised his head and looked up at the house. He didn't want to be here. He hadn't been here since before they'd gone back for their disastrous reunion. He and Josh had played video games in the media room and snuck beers. Josh hadn't let him in his bedroom, which had been unusual. Only in hindsight did Chris consider what that might have meant, what parts of Josh's horrible plot he might have seen if he'd gone inside.

But the Washingtons were his last shot, short of flying up there himself.

Without thinking about it, he scaled the gate, not bothering to buzz. It was an old habit and he regretted it the moment his feet hit the pavement on the other side.

Climbing back felt even more embarrassing, so he trudged, red faced and frustrated, to the front door and hit the bell. After a few minutes, he hit it again.

Finally, Mr. Washington opened the door, leaning on the edge of it heavily. He looked bleary and more than half asleep, his eyes red and out of focus. He smelled unwashed, as if he hadn't showered in a few days. "Yeah?"

"Uh, hey, Mr. Washington. It's me, Chris."

"I know who you are, Chris. You've been at my house since you were eight."

"Yeah… sorry to come over unannounced. I just was wondering if Sam or Ash—Ashley—came by recently about going back up the mountain—"

"Oh for fuck's sake. It's all anyone ever talks about. Mel never shuts up about it. So she went. The other girls probably did too. I don't know."

Melinda too? "Mrs. Washington went to the lodge?"

Mr. Washington blinked at him, then turned to go back into the house. "I don't know. She'll be back soon, I'm sure. She's always flitting around like a butterfly." He vanished into the house, heading towards the living room and leaving the door hanging open.

Chris hesitated, then crept in after him, shutting the door with a click. He stared after Mr. Washington, then glanced around. The house looked largely unchanged. It was hard to believe that he'd been here less than three months ago. The house was quiet. In the living room, he heard a television going, playing what sounded like old episodes of the Twilight Zone.

He climbed the stairs. He wasn't sure why. Every step made his heart sink a little further, his stomach knot up a little more.

Josh's door was shut.

He opened it.

His parents hadn't touched a thing. The room was a disaster, but it was a Josh disaster, where everything was an inconsistent level of clean and organized. The bed was made, but there were clothes all over it. The desk was neat, but the bookshelf was almost unusable, with every nook and cranny jammed with books and magazines. Josh had still lived here, while he went to school. USC was close enough that it made sense to live at home. That, and his parents had insisted on it.

Josh had hated that. "I'm not a rabid dog," he'd told Chris furiously after he'd found out. He threw a tennis ball at the wall with increasing force, catching it on every bounce like he was Steve McQueen waiting out his cell time.

"They know that."

"Fuck them."

"They probably know that too." Josh had thrown the tennis ball at him. Chris caught it, barely.

They'd hung out in his room for the rest of the night, smoking pot and re-watching Cowboy Bebop, skipping through the bits they both agreed were boring. Josh had grabbed Akira too, but that's where Chris drew the line. Josh might have called him a pussy for it, but he didn't like all the weird body expansion and gore. It wasn't a problem in live action horror, but something about the animated version made his stomach heave.

Now Chris turned away, shutting Josh's door behind him. Unbidden, the memory of washing Josh get cut in half flashed through his mind and he groaned. Stupid fuck. Josh was always like that: pranks that went too far, jokes that went on too long. He just never would have thought Josh would do that shit to him. He wasn't even part of the fucking prank on Hannah. He was too busy being passed out in the kitchen with the man himself.

But now they'd all gone. They'd all left him. Even Ashley, who he'd been so sure would stay.

He leaned against Josh's closed door, staring across the hall. Was it true? Was he the crazy one in all this? He remembered the Flamethrower Guy, the nearly-hairless beast that had killed him and almost killed Chris. The things in the lodge tearing each other to shreds. But monsters weren't real. They just weren't. They were for video games and novels and shitty SyFy channel movies and badly dubbed anime. They weren't supposed to show up at your friend's designer vacation home and tear your life apart.

Josh.

His friend.

Could he still be alive? It had been more than a month, but from what he'd seen of the mine, it wasn't impossible. Especially for a savvy dude like Josh. He'd seen vermin down there and water. It would be freezing, but that could be dealt with.

Oh fuck. He was doing this. At the very least, he was going to go drag Ash back kicking and screaming before she got herself hurt. He would bring rope and tie her up if he had to.

And if he happened to find Josh alive and coherent, well… he could always punch him again.

Or hug him.

Whatever.