Chapter Three:

And I Can't Find My Way Out

"Sam?" He knocked again, harder. "Sam, we have to talk."

She backed away from the door, fighting the urge to launch herself through the window. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't be here. She had a class at 9. She had another class at 1 and plans to go climbing. She was going to get breakfast and shower and study and he couldn't be here.

"Go away."

"I can't. I need to talk to you."

"I'll call my R.A. We're not supposed to have boys in the dorm."

"It's during the day and I saw three other guys on my way up here. Is your R.A. that super tall redhead? I think she's the one who let me in the building." The knocking stopped and there was a soft thump from the other side of the door. "Please, Sam. I don't know what else to do."

Sam had almost managed to forget that Mike went to school here too. It was the two of them and Jess. The others were scattered. Chris was in L.A. and Ashley was in Northridge. Emily was at her Dad's place in New York the last Sam had heard. Matt was in Seattle. But she never saw Mike. He was studying business and political science, still supposedly in pursuit of his presidential ambitions or something. He lived off-campus with some friends and they never crossed paths.

"No one home," she said weakly, the energy draining out of her.

"An empty room can't talk. "

She sighed and opened the door again. He'd been resting his head against the closed door and he straightened, leaning heavily against the frame. "I know," she said flatly. "I was hoping you would take the hint. The very direct, non-subtle hint. One could even call it an order."

"Look, I know you don't want to see me. But I still need to talk to you. I'm sorry, but I do."

"Fine." Same moved back to let him into the room and let the door swing shut with a bang. She perched on the edge of her unmade bed and watched him. He looked too big for the space. Tess wasn't much taller than Sam and they never had people over. Mike looked awkward and out of place, or at least as out of place as he ever looked. He still had that easy innate confidence that she'd always found slightly annoying. Other than that, though, he looked awful. He hadn't shaved and looked drawn and tired.

He sat in her desk chair for a second, then rose and started to pace. "I'm not sure what to say."

"You're the one who showed up at my door."

"I know, I know." He clenched his fists and shook out his shoulders, air whooshing out in one long breath. Sam almost smiled at that. He'd started doing that when they were in 9th grade. He'd had to take an elective and had ended up in choir with her. Mister Always-Confident had turned out to have rather awful stage fright and had come up with what he'd termed 'blowing out the jitters.' He turned to look at her. "I had a dream last night."

Her stomach clenched painfully. "…okay?"

"You were in it."

This was ridiculous. "Mike, I'm sure you've had lots of dreams with me in them. Probably some I do not want to hear about."

The quirk of his lips didn't reach his eyes. "I'm serious. I had a dream last night and you were in it. We were in the mines."

"And I'm sure you've had lots of dreams about that too. I have nightmares all the time. But it doesn't mean you show up unannounced and-"

"Shut up, Sam." She stared at him and he raised his hands in defeat. "Sorry. I just need you to listen to me and I know you don't want to, but this is too important. I saw you. In the mines. With Josh. And I know you saw me too."

Sam groaned and scooted back on the bed to sit against the wall, drawing her knees into her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He sat down again, sighing. "Fine. Let's get more specific. Josh was there, alive, but weak and a full 10 on the crazy meter. Or maybe an 8. He thought he was hallucinating you. You were wearing a green jacket and leggings and tennis shoes. There was an elevator shaft."

"No." She glared at him. "I'm sorry you had a dream, but you're wrong. I need you to leave now. Stop talking."

"Was there a butterfly?"

"What?"

"Was there a butterfly when you woke up?" The look on his face was unbearable, wavering somewhere between fear and sadness and pity. "There was for me."

Sam hesitated. "No." Her voice shook and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

He smiled weakly. "You're a bad liar, Sam. You always were. It's one of the things I always admired about you."

"You admired that I was a bad liar?"

"Because you're honest. You're more yourself than anyone I know. You're more you than I'm me. So I can tell you're lying. There was a butterfly, wasn't there. A yellow one." Mike couldn't keep himself still; he stood and crossed to her window, looking out on the campus. "A guide, right? That's what the yellow meant. Potential."

"It was just a dream, Mike. Josh is dead."

He rounded on her eagerly. "You did have the dream! I could feel it. I just knew, you know? What if we were wrong? What if he's still there?"

"You told me he died."

"I—I thought he did. Hannah dragged him away and I—I let her. But that doesn't mean he's dead. He could still be down there."

"It's been weeks." Why was he doing this? Sam felt nauseated. Maybe he would leave if she threw up on him. "If she didn't kill him, he'd be dead by now anyway."

"Not necessarily," he insisted, sitting on the bed next to her. He reached to take her hand and she flinched away from him. Pulling back, he stared down at his maimed left hand. "There were all kinds of openings in the mine. Even if he couldn't get out, there was water and there could be animals and stuff down there to live on. Sam, if he's alive… I want to go back."

She burst out laughing. She couldn't help it, the laughter catching in her chest and making her whole body shake. "You had a dream and saw a bug and now you want to go back into hell for nothing. You know what we're going to find? We're going to find a body, if we're very, very lucky. A corpse. And a burned-out shell of a building. Maybe some leftover pig guts. Or a—" She couldn't stop talking. She couldn't stop laughing. Why couldn't she stop?

"No… No, Sam, don't." This time he caught her hands and held them tightly, tugging her towards him. She half-fell into him, hiccupping slightly. He smelled different than he used to: no more fancy cologne, just soap and a vague hint of peppermint. He also smelled like blood and smoke, but maybe that was just her imagination.

"Maybe another clown mask! Or maybe some more creepy dolls. Did Ashley tell you about the creepy dolls? There were creepy dolls, apparently." She was babbling into his shirt.

Mike's arms were trembling slightly as they closed around her shoulders. "Sam, Sam stop. Shh…" He took a deep breath, his chest shifting. "Yoga breaths, right? You do yoga. Do your breathing. "

Nodding, she tried to get herself back under control. Her laughter died slowly as she counted in her head. Eight counts to inhale, hold for four, back out for eight. She wasn't sure how long they sat there, but finally she pushed away from him. Mike let her go and moved back on the bed, giving her space. She scrubbed at her face. She hadn't realized she had been crying.

"Are you okay?"

She choked, trying not to laugh again. "Yeah, absolutely fantastic. Thanks."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… hurt you?"

Sam felt empty, utterly drained and numb. "So you were really in my dream." She ignored his undefined question.

"I'm not sure if it was a dream. I think it was a vision, like what was happening on the mountain with those carved pieces."

"Totems."

"What?"

She grabbed her water bottle from the floor beside the bed and took a long swallow. "They're called totems. Beth told me about them once. They found them when they were kids sometimes. Supposedly they're physical manifestations of prophetic dreams. You saw the butterfly sign when we were up there, huh?"

"Yeah, it was hard to miss." Mike tugged his shirt down where it had been riding up slightly and Sam saw the wet spot she'd left behind. He didn't say anything about it, just watched her and waited.

"And you think that this dream and the butterfly in your room means that this happened."

"Or is going to happen. Could happen."

"You're nuts," she said flatly.

"Fine." He pushed himself to his feet. "Sorry. I'll get out of your hair, I guess." He headed for the door.

Sam threw the water bottle across the room as hard as she could. It smacked into the opposite wall, the blue plastic giving way with a sharp cracking sound. Mike froze in place. She glared at the bottle as the last bit of water it held slowly leaked out, spreading a dark circle on the carpet. "If we're wrong, I don't know if I can do it."

Her friend rested his hand on the wall and waited, not turning.

"If he's not alive—if all we're doing is confirming that he died, I'm not sure if I'll make it back. I feel like I'm falling apart. All that's getting me through this is not seeing you guys. I know that's awful and I'm sorry, but I can't talk about it. I can hardly think about it."

Words failed her and she fell silent. Mike still didn't turn around. His voice, when he spoke, was very soft. "I understand. I do. But you're the one I trust the most to go with me. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Sam. You saved me. So many times. And if that's all we find, I won't let you fall. I will carry you back if I have to."

He opened the door. "Just think about it. Please." He didn't give her a chance to answer. He didn't look back, just walked off down the hall.

Mike didn't slow down as he left the dorm. He didn't know if Sam was looking out her window and he couldn't afford for her to see him falter. Seeing Sam like that, though, had shaken him. He'd expected her to be bright-eyed and ready to man a rescue mission, not looking like the wrong word would shatter her into a thousand pieces. His hand was throbbing and he rubbed at his injury as he walked.

His phone vibrated. Jess. What r you up to?

The holdover typing from high school still made him smile. She'd moved away from most of it, but it still slipped through here and there. It used to be 'What r u up 2?' He couldn't decide which he preferred.

Had to go see Sam. His thumb hovered over the send button. Should he tell her? He hadn't been with her the night before and hadn't had the chance to tell her about the dream. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to tell her. She was hard to predict. He didn't want to send her spiraling. He deleted the draft. Grabbing a coffee. You? That was safer.

He stopped at the coffee cart near the parking garage. This way it wasn't a lie. He dosed the coffee liberally with sugar and tossed back one of his pills. His hand hurt like a bitch, even more now than it had the night he'd cut off his fingers in the first place. It was totally unfair. Sam was supposed to be the strong one. Strong like him, right? He took a second pill. Strong. Sure. He understood Sam's laughter more than he cared to admit.

Can I see u? Jess asked.

Sure. My place?

I can be there in 10.

See you then.

The house was deserted when he got there, which was a blessing. He liked his housemates but they were so loud. It had been awesome before the visit to the lodge, like a nonstop party. But after everything… sometimes he just wanted quiet. He tipped some cheap scotch into the coffee and stowed it back in the cabinet under the sink.

His phone buzzed on the counter. Here.

Jess smiled at him from the stoop. The sunlight caught her hair and turned it almost white, shining and bright against the lavender of her cardigan. "Hi Hot Stuff. Can I come in?"

"Of course." He welcomed her into the cluttered living room.

"Did you get me a coffee too?"

He smacked is forehead with his free hand. "I completely spaced. It didn't even occur to me."

She giggled and nudged him with her hip as she passed. "I'm kidding. If I'd wanted a coffee, I would have asked. I'm a big girl. I can use my words. Are the guys home?"

"Nope."

"Ooh. The whole castle, all to ourselves." She faltered and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch. Mike bit back the impulse to rush to her side and after a moment she shot him a grateful smile. "I'm good. Just my head. It doesn't happen too much now and the doc said it should stop completely soon." She didn't like when he started to hover. She'd told him once that she'd rather no one even noticed her dizzy spells at all.

"Head trauma is a bitch."

"Head trauma is a bitch," she agreed, perching on the edge of the worn sofa. "But yeah. Um. I need to talk to you about something."

Mike took a drink of his jazzed-up coffee and settled into the recliner. "Of course."

Tugging lightly at her necklace, she took a deep breath. "Okay, so I had a really weird dream last night."

In a small, warm kitchen in Seattle, a phone rang. Matt set down the spoon he'd been using to stir the stew and wiped his hands on a towel, then grabbed the phone from its cradle and tucked it under his jaw. "Hello?"

"…Matt?"

He swallowed hard. "Em?"

"Hi. Sorry to call like this. I know it's been a while."

"Yeah. Yeah it has."

"I didn't mean to run off like that. I just had—"

Matt did not want to hear any excuses. Not now. "Hey, Em, not that it's not nice to hear from you, but—"

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. I just… I needed to talk to someone and you were the only one I wanted to call."

"What happened?"

"Well I've been having nightmares, of course, and it's hard to sleep. But then last night, I—"

He interrupted her. "You had a dream about Josh?"

Emily scoffed. There was the familiar click-and-whoosh of her lighter and he knew she'd lit a cigarette. "What, are you a mind reader?" she asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Sighing, he turned down the heat on the stove slightly. "Emily…"

"I'm sorry. Um. Yeah. Really though, how did you know?" She continued before he had a chance to answer. "And then when I woke up, there was this butterfly in the room. I'd fallen asleep on the chaise, reading, and then when I woke up, it was on my leg."

Matt tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and could barely manage it. "I… That's…"

"And it just made me think of up on the mountain and how there were always those butterflies and it just sort of threw me for a loop, so I wanted to talk to you. I don't know why." She sounded almost angry about it, as though it was his fault that she had to call him. That meant she was anxious. Emily had always been like that: turn it into annoyance, into aggression, so no one would see you were upset. "I guess it just made me want to hear your voice. Made me think of your letter jacket and my bag, which is still missing, by the w—"

"Emily." He cut her off again.

"What?"

"Was the butterfly yellow?"

"What? Why?"

"Because mine was yellow."

It was beginning again. Ashley could feel it. She wrapped her quilt around her shoulders and huddled into the corner. She wished she could melt into the wall. Across from her, the butterfly had landed on the bathrobe draped over her closet door. It stood out, almost painfully yellow against the faded cream terrycloth. It had been in her bedroom since she woke up hours ago and she couldn't bring herself to go anywhere near it, even if that meant just staying in bed.

She hated it.

She didn't need this. She didn't want it. She wanted to still find butterflies cute, not hate the stupid fucking thing. With trembling hands, she lit her pipe, pulling at it until the bowl glowed red. Ashley held the smoke in her chest and then blew it, almost vindictively, towards the butterfly. Too far away to reach, she knew, but the small action still made her feel a tiny bit better. It was breaking her rule anyway: no smoking before 5 p.m. Oh well. It was a stupid rule. She should go take her medication, but that would mean getting up and going near the butterfly. Better to smoke a little and try to breathe.

"I don't like you," she told the butterfly.

The butterfly did not respond.