Chapter Seven:

You Can Talk to Me

Rain was coming down hard. Emily made a face at it, pleased she had decided to bring her umbrella. It cast shades of blue over her and she raised a hand, watching the colors shift on her skin. Somehow it felt like the last moment of normalcy, although she knew things hadn't been normal for a very long time. "Enough stalling, Em," she told herself sharply and rang the bell.

The elderly woman who opened the door peered at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh—yes, I'm looking for Matt?"

"Matthew!" she called back into the house. "Matthew, someone at the door for you! Well, come on in, then. Get out of the rain." The woman smiled and suddenly Emily recognized the resemblance.

"Are you his grandmother?"

"I certainly hope so. Otherwise it'd be strange, me letting him live here." The woman chuckled at her own joke. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Emily. We used to, well…"

"You used to date, if I remember right." The woman raised her eyebrows expectantly. After a long, rather awkward pause, she burst out laughing. "Oh honey, of course he told me about you. He told me about everything."

Emily folded the umbrella and set it by the door, then toed off her boots. The house was warm and well-lit. It smelled faintly of bread and much more recently of garlic and basil and tomatoes. She sat gingerly on the very edge of the worn brocade couch. "Everything?"

The woman's smile faded. "Yes. Well, at least—There's always the possibility that he's still keeping secrets. You teenagers do try to be so mysterious. But I believe him when he says its everything. He seemed a bit different when he was done talking. And no one can keep all that sort of thing built up inside them without it hurting after a while." She sat down next to Emily and took her hand. "If you would like to, you and I can speak later. From what he's told me… well, it's a lot to believe, but I've seen some crazy stuff in my time. It's not hard to believe that there's more out there than what I've seen with my own two eyes."

"I—" Emily had no idea what to say to that. Truth be told, she hadn't talked to her parents about the events of that night at all. Or at least no more than she'd been forced to. It was easier to go with what the cops had announced as the official story: mentally ill kid playing some pranks that got out of hand, wild animals, and treacherous woods and mines. "Thank you," she said finally, looking down at her lap.

Matt's grandmother patted her hand. "Now. You must be freezing. Let me get you something to drink. You drink coffee? Of course you do." She rose and headed for the kitchen, calling up for Matt again. "Matthew, get down here. I know you can hear me. It's not that big a house! Oh. You can call me Rose, by the way. None of this 'Mrs. Taylor' nonsense."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs as Matt burst into the room, then stopped dead at the sight of her. Emily waved awkwardly. "Hi Matt."

"Em? You're here. In the living room. Of my grandmother's house."

"Yeah? Sorry." She stood, hugging her torso. "I—um. I needed to talk to you some more."

"You know I have a phone, right? You should know. We were talking on it… yesterday?" Matt huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "How did you even get here so quickly?"

She shrugged. "There are always flights from New York to Seattle. You can even do it nonstop if you don't mind being on a plane for six hours."

"Six hours?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, Emily shrugged again. She just wanted him to smile at her. Some tiny sign that things would be okay. Matt was always good at that, always a believer in good things. Like Jess. Emily wished she could be more like that, but, as she'd told them on more than one occasion, she'd rather be proven right in her cynicism than be disappointed by misplaced optimism. "Look, I just needed to see you. I think we need to talk. All of us. But I wanted to talk to you first."

Finally, slowly, he did smile. It wasn't what it had been, not as bright and ready, but it was there. He spread his arms. "I guess so. Can I have a hug from an old friend, then?"

Stifling her sigh of relief, she hugged him tightly.

-o-

He had said

"You're the only one they'll listen to."

and

"I can't do it. You know they won't even give me the time of day."

and

"Sam, you're the one who knows them."

Sure, all of Mike's points may have been valid, but Sam still wanted to be standing anywhere but in front of the call button at the Washingtons' gate. She swallowed hard and pushed the button.

There was no answer. She counted to ten in her head and pushed it again, hoping against hope that this wasn't a completely futile errand. Were they even home? Finally the intercom buzzed to life. "Hello?"

It was Melinda. She had always insisted on being 'Melinda' to Sam – she hated being called 'Mrs. Washington,' she said. It made her feel old. "Hi, Melinda? It's Sam. Samantha. Giddings." As if she wouldn't remember.

There was silence on the other end. Then: "Sam? Hello. Was there something you needed?"

That didn't bode well. Melinda had always been endlessly welcoming. "I need to ask you and Mr. Washington about something. I'm very sorry to intrude, but I didn't want to do it over the phone."

Melinda didn't answer, but after another moment, the side door gave its distinctive buzz-and-click and Sam was able to open it. She headed to the house in a strange daze. How many times had she followed this exact path to see Hannah or Beth? How many times had Beth come out to let her in so that the automatic unlock didn't give them away? How many times had she seen Josh on the walkway, strolling with careful, perfectly casual steps down to meet her? Sam didn't want to be here. "Oh, fuck you, Mike," she muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets and continuing up to the house. Knowing that Mike was right – that it had to be her – didn't make this any easier.

As if sensing her approach, Melinda opened the front door just as she came up the broad front steps. "It's nice to see you, Sam." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She looked at least ten years older than she was: the lines carved by her daughters' disappearance only confirmed and driven deeper by her son's. "Come on in. Bob's in the living room. You can ask us what you want in there."

She was escorted into the room, feeling like she was walking to a judicial hearing. Or maybe into detention. Bob Washington was sitting on one overstuffed chair, papers spread over his lap and his bag open at his feet. He glanced up and nodded at her. "Hello Samantha."

"Hi Mr. Washington. I'm sorry to show up unannounced like this."

"It's fine. You know you're always welcome here." That might have been true once, but now it was clearly just another polite lie. "What can we do for you?"

"I—" she faltered, unsure how to phrase it. No matter how many ways she had practiced it in her head on the way over, it didn't get any easier. Better to just go for it, right? "I was wondering if there's any possibility you'd let me go back up on the mountain."

Whatever they had been expecting from her, it wasn't that. Both Washingtons stared at her, dumbfounded. "You… you want to go back? Why?" Melinda's voice trembled.

Sam held herself as straight as she could. "I want… closure. I need to go back, see what's left. They rushed us out so quick that I never had the chance to come to terms with everything."

"You want 'closure'?" A slow smile grew across Mr. Washington's face. Something about it spoke to Josh, to his constant, indefinable strangeness, and it hurt more than Sam could have anticipated. "Are you serious?"

"Yes?" Why was he smiling at her like that? "Why wouldn't I?"

He shook his head, shrugged, and looked back to his papers, still smiling slightly. "I just thought that, after everything, it's the last place you'd want to go."

"After everything?"

"After Josh, what was it, again? Chased you around the basement naked?"

Even after everything, his words and tone made Sam flush pink. "It wasn't… I don't need…"

"Or did you enjoy that? Is that one of the things you and my son used to talk about when you came over?"

Melinda shot him a dirty look and interrupted. "Ignore Bob, Sam. I'm sorry, though. We simply can't allow you back up there. It's still incredibly dangerous. There's no stable shelters available – the closest would be the cable car station, and even that is a mess. The mine is still subject to cave-ins. We were even warned about avalanche risks."

Sam opened her mouth to protest and Melinda waved her down. "No. I'm sorry, Sam. But the answer is no. We aren't allowing anyone up there. Possibly ever. I think you should leave now. Thank you for visiting."

She was ejected without further ceremony. The sun beat down on her as she walked back towards the gate. That had been exactly… well, actually she hadn't known what to expect. There must have been a better way for her to go about it. Maybe if she went back and told them she thought Josh was alive, then they might—her phone buzzed. She sighed as she pulled it out. If she went back claiming Josh was alive, they'd have her committed.

How did it go? Are you still with them? Mike.

No. Leaving now.

After a second, her phone started to ring. She answered it, letting the gate door swing shut behind her and heading for her car. "It went about as badly as it could possibly have gone. Maybe you should have been the one to talk to them. They don't seem to be big fans of me these days."

"Fuck," Mike swore under his breath. "What did you say?"

"I told them I wanted to hunt for ghosts in a dangerous mine, obviously. What do you think I told them? I tried to tell them that I need closure and asked if I could go up there. Mr.—Bob Washington made shitty comments about running around in my towel, while Melinda just shut me down entirely. Complete waste of time."

"Closure?"

"Okay, if you want to keep critiquing my approach, you're more than welcome to try your own."

Mike groaned. "No, sorry. That's probably the best way you could have done it. I figured it was a long shot."

"So now what?"

"Now we'll have to hike up, I guess. Should be, what, like three days?"

Sam was about to scoff when she stopped to consider it. It wasn't really too bad. There were a few spots that were a bit rocky, but from what she could see from the cable car trip, it wouldn't be all that difficult. "Yeah. Maybe less. You really want to hike?"

He laughed. "I think you forget who outpaced you during camp in the 7th grade."

"It's been a long time since 7th grade. Sure you can keep up?"

"You'll have to carry all your nutrition bricks, right? That'll slow you down a bit."

She bit back her smile and shook her head. "So we're really gonna do this?"

"I'm already arranging tickets. We can get from here to Seattle, talk to Matt, and then head North."

"Tickets for who?"

"Well, you, me, and Jess so far. I'm having trouble getting ahold of Chris and Ash." He hesitated. "Do you want to try? You're closer with them than I am."

"Sure. I'll just avoid using the closure excuse this time."

"If they had the dream too, I don't think you'll have to."

-o-

Jess pulled another box down from the top shelf. "Are you still going with me?"

Over the phone, Mike laughed. "As if you could stop me."

"Oh no, not the mighty hero of the Sanitarium. What would I do without you?" she asked sweetly, tucking the phone under her chin as she opened the box and started rummaging through its contents.

"Ugh. Don't call me that. But yeah. You, me, and Sam so far."

"Awesome. I think—I mean, I don't want to count my chickens or whatever, but I think I have some stuff we can use. Old gear. Like radios and other useful stuff. My dad kept all his gear from way back when. It might be kind of old, but it should still work. We can test it out later." She hesitated, then gave into the urge to ask. "So you saw Sam early, right?"

"This morning? Not that early. Just real quick before she went to talk to the Washingtons."

Unseen by Mike, Jessica rolled her eyes. "No, dummy. Yesterday. Before I came by to talk to you. I bumped into her at the gym and she said you two had already talked."

"Yeah? We, uh, yeah. Yep. We did. I was going out to get coffee and I ran into her and—"

"Jeez, Mike. I thought you used to be a good liar." She tested the Taser but it didn't work. Tapping it against the heel of her hand, it thwapped hollowly. No batteries. She put it in the 'no batteries' pile. "I'm not mad or anything. Why would I be? I was just, well, you know me! I'm was just super curious."

She could practically hear him rubbing the back of his neck. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she heard a faint rattling. "I guess I just wanted to see her. After the dream about Josh, and what happened at the lodge, I just… she seemed like the logical person to reach out to first."

"Sure. Yeah. Makes sense. Have you heard from Emily?" Jess asked quickly, moving on to the next box down.

"Yeah, briefly. She's in New York."

"Of course. Getting herself mani-pedis on the Upper East Side," she muttered.

"She offered to help bankroll this whole operation."

She hadn't expected that. Shaking her head, she forced herself to keep sorting. "Nice of her." It was. The tickets would be expensive and, of all of them, Em was the most able to drop that kind of cash at a moment's notice. It just didn't mesh with the Em in her head, the one who had spat insults at her like a snake spitting venom. It was more like the old Emily. The one from before.

"It really is. I'm working with her to get some tickets set up. Get us up to the mountain. It's looking like our best bet is a connecting flight through Seattle. We can see Matt there. Then to Blackwood and a bus to the base. Then we're going to, well, hike."

"Hike?!" she yelped, dropping the binoculars with a heavy thump.

"Um, yeah. That's part of why I was calling. Sam tried to talk to the Washingtons, but they're just not going for it. That means no cable car which means hiking."

"Isn't it, like, days of hiking?"

"Probably only two or three. It won't be that bad. It's already getting warmer up there."

"Sure, by, what, ten degrees or something? Michael, you are trying to get me killed."

There was silence on the line. "Absolutely not. No one's going to die." His voice was fierce, determined.

It made her smile. "No. I'm sure you're right."

-o-

"Nope. Nuh-uh." Chris folded his arms over his chest and slumped back in his chair, shaking his head at her.

"Chris, so far everyone we've talked to has had the dream. Even Ashley. You must have had it too."

"Look, I don't know what to tell you. I haven't had any prophetic dreams lately."

Sam rubbed her temples. She felt a headache coming on and it was making her want to grab him and shake him as hard as she could. "Okay, fine. How about any dreams about Josh? Would have probably been two nights back. Josh. The mine. Etcetera."

"I've had so many dreams about that fucking place and that asshole. If I had a dream about him two nights ago, it wouldn't mean anything. And what, you think you're going to just run off into the woods and rescue him? True love's kiss or whatever the hell it needs to wake the dead?"

"He's not dead."

"Oh come on," Chris said flatly. "You and I both know he's dead. Pretending he isn't won't make anything better. He's as dead as that poor guy with the flame thrower. You're going to hike into the woods and, if you're very, very lucky, you will find nothing except a corpse, then climb back down. But so much shit could go wrong. You've seen the reports of the area, right? No building up there is in any kind of viable condition. The fire tower's collapsed, the mine is caving in, the lodge has burned down… There's nothing for you. It's a waste of time."

She took a sip from her water, trying not to do anything rash. "I get it. I do. But don't you think that even if there's even the slightest chance of us finding him alive, it's worth it?"

His laugh was cold. "Keep telling yourself stories for as long as you want, Sam. Some of us are trying to get through this and get better. Josh was my best friend. And then he tortured me. And Ashley. And you, in case you'd forgotten. If he was alive and himself, maybe. Maybe. But I'm not going to risk my life to find his dead body. I'm not going to do it. If you can't understand that, then I guess we're done here."

"Chris—" He didn't bother to pause, just grabbed his backpack from the table and left, the apartment door slamming hard.

"I'm sorry, Sam. He's just… He's having a really hard time with everything." Ashley approached slowly, dropping into the chair across from the blonde.

Sam reached across the table and took Ashley's hand. "And you're not?"

"Not like this." Ashley saw Sam's disbelieving look and smiled. "I mean that. I'm a mess. No—don't fight me on it. I know it's true. Did you know I had a breakdown over a butterfly in my room the other day? Well I guess you do know. About the butterfly, at least. Maybe not the breakdown. But anyway. I think it's normal. The breakdown, not the butterfly. Like, it sounds silly maybe, but I think I'm supposed to fall apart. It's like now that I have, I can start to put myself back together you know?"

"So, hold on. You believe me?" Sam sat forward in her chair, squeezing the other girl's hand. "You think Josh is alive?"

Ashley slowly shook her head, brow furrowed. "No. I don't. Or at least, not necessarily. Chris, he… well. He's pretty convinced he knows what happened and that it doesn't involve monsters. Maybe he's right. I didn't see them all that well in the dark. But I think… I think the dreams are what you want them to be. Maybe what you need them to be. What was yellow, for the visions?"

"Guidance, I think."

"So I think it's like that. It's a guide. I can't say what it means. I don't think any of you can, really. But for you, I guess it has to mean that he's alive, right?"

Sam couldn't speak, so she nodded tightly.

Another comforting squeeze from Ashley's warm hand. "Then that's what's important. Something is trying to bring us back. And—" Her eyes filled with tears. "I don't think I can go. I'm so, so sorry Sam. I want to be there to help you more than anything, but I just can't do it."

She smiled at the redhead. "I understand, Ash. It's okay. Just knowing you're here and that you have our backs. It's helpful. It means a lot."

"Oh!" The girl sprang to her feet and dashed down the hall. "Just wait—I have something else—" She emerged back into the living room with a worn leather journal, pages stuffed with what seemed to be everything from receipts to folded notebook paper with scribbled notes in brown ink.

"Is that—"

"Flamethrower guy's book!" Ashley grinned at her and the old Ashley, passionate and excitable, surfaced in her face for a moment. "I stole it. Or kept it, I guess. I mean, he died, so it's not like he was going to ask for it back." She slid it across the table to Sam. "I read the rest of it later after we came back down."

"But didn't the police want it?"

Ash waved a hand dismissively. "I didn't tell them. They totally ignored everything we tried to tell them. They liked a version without monsters, I guess. I didn't think that Chris would—anyway." She shook herself off of that train of thought. "I kept reading it. And he might have been crazy or something, but man was he dedicated. You should see the details in here. I checked some of it against the lore I could find and it seems to line up, at least in most spots. I think it might help you guys."

Picking it up gingerly, Sam undid the twine tying it shut. She opened it to the first page and read the inscription, then glanced up at Ashley. "Do you think that the wendigos are real?"

The other girl shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. I mean, I know what I thought I saw. I know what I read in there. But… Chris, the cops, my doctor… there are a lot of reasons to think that it was just us seeing what we wanted to see."

"What we wanted to see?" Sam stared at her. "Seriously?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean… people make up things sometimes. Things that fit the story they're trying to tell themselves. After all, isn't it easier for you to believe that there were monsters and stuff than that this is all Josh's fault? That he planned an evil prank that got super out of hand, then the rest was just a naturally unsafe environment and Canadian winter? Look, Sam," Ashley pulled her sweater a little tighter around herself. "I don't know what to believe. I'm not saying you guys are wrong, but I can't really say that Chris is wrong either. I'm sorry. If you guys need anything, call me, okay?"

-o-

For the fourteenth time that day, the phone on the wall rang.

"I haven't had this many calls since I was arranging the office party and someone started a rumor that I wasn't going to get a caterer," Rose remarked from the table where she was folding laundry.

Matt laughed. "I told you I was popular."

"Says you. Maybe it'll be for me this time, you know."

"Probably." He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi Matt."

"Jess!" From the corner of his eye, he saw Emily stiffen in her seat, then take an extra-deep gulp of juice. "It's good to hear from you. I was wondering if I would."

"Oh—" she sounded surprised. "I wasn't sure you'd want to hear from me."

He shook his head, then realized she couldn't see him. "No, Jess, look. It's fine. I get it. And I'm just, well, I'm tired of being mad. I don't want to fight anymore. Especially not right now, with all of this going on."

Jess's smile was audible in her voice. "Oh god, Matt, I miss you. You total softie. How you ever survived dating Em, I'll never know."

"Hey, you know it's not like that. She's not—"

"Yeah, I know," Jess interrupted him quickly. "Forget I said that. I just… there's so much happening, so fast. I guess I just missed talking to you."

"Ditto."

Her voice turned wistful. "Do you remember that time we broke into the gym, just the three of us?"

"Do you remember how you guys ditched me and I had to find you on the roof?" Emily sat up a little straighter, that razor gaze of hers on Matt. He raised his eyebrows and turned his back on her. "It was very uncool."

"We thought you knew where we were!"

"It took me two hours to find you!"

She giggled. "Okay, fine. Sorry about that. We didn't do it to be mean. We just got distracted."

"I know. It's okay." They lapsed into a comfortable silence. That's what he'd always liked about Jess: they didn't have to impress each other. She'd always been okay with him when he didn't want to talk or do anything.

"So… dreams and stuff, huh?" She finally said.

"Dreams. And stuff. Em showed—" Matt glanced over his shoulder at Em and she suddenly panicked, shaking her head. "Emily called to tell me about it." She relaxed again, mouthing her thanks.

"Are you going?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure yet. There's… this is a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it."

"Are you?"

"Absolutely. I'm going back. I have to."

Matt wasn't surprised. "That makes sense. I'm glad."

"Really? Mike just keeps trying to talk me out of it. I'm glad you don't think I'm going to shatter at a slight breeze, at least."

He laughed. "Are you kidding? I remember seeing you in Cinderella." It had been before she quit ballet. A twisted ankle and she'd still persisted. She'd done all of her piece as Spring on pointe with a radiant smile, even though just walking on it had hurt like a bitch.

"Oof. Not one of my finest moments."

"Wow. You're pretty dumb if you think that. You're tough. Mike's an idiot."

"A well-meaning idiot. I mean, I get it. If I were him I'd want to keep me away too."

"Only because he didn't see you in the mine."

Jessica scoffed, amused. "Oh fine. You flatterer. Anyway, I think we're coming up by way of Seattle. Any chance I can at least get to see you, if you decide not to go?"

"Of course."

"Okay, well, thanks! I'll talk to you soon? It was really nice to hear your voice, Matt."

"For sure." He hung up the phone and turned back.

Emily watched him carefully. "Is she planning on going up to the mountain?" She managed to layer scorn, disbelief, worry, and irritation into her voice simultaneously. Matt was almost impressed.

"Yep," he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a coke.

She slumped back into the chair. "Fuck," she mumbled.

-o-

Sam had never really been much for fairy tales. It wasn't that she disliked them particularly. They just didn't interest her as much as other stories could. Beth, on the other hand, loved fairy tales. Hannah too, although for different reasons. Hannah loved the romance, the excitement, the triumph of good over evil. Beth had loved to dissect them. She'd pick a story and then read every version she could get her hands on, comparing them and picking her favorite imagery. It was one of her favorite things to do. And more than that, she loved to talk about what she'd found.

And so Sam knew that in fairy tales, certain events tended to happen in sets of three. Three old women with magical abilities. Three chests you could open. Three days, three wishes, three siblings.

She'd met with the Washingtons and she'd met with her friends.

There was one more person to meet with.

Her heart was pounding as she found a parking spot, easing into it carefully. She'd almost expected him not to answer when she called, but after his assistant had given her name, he'd been on the line immediately. He had a free half hour or so, he'd said, between 3:00 and 3:30.

Climbing out of her car and heading for the front doors of the building, she gripped the strap of her backpack tightly with one hand, as if the journal in it might suddenly try to escape.

Her phone buzzed. How'd it go? Mike asked.

She ignored the message, shoving the phone into her pocket. If this third visit didn't go well, he didn't need to know. Not right now, at least.

After the heat outside, the air conditioning was too cold and she shivered slightly as she rode the elevator up. She checked in at the front and was gestured back. The office was beautiful, all dark wood and gleaming leather, and something about it made Sam's skin itch.

"Sam, please come in. Have a seat. I must admit that didn't expect to hear from you."

She took a deep breath and sat. "Hello Dr. Hill. I need to talk to you about Josh."