Chapter Eight:

The Devil Wore a Fine, Fine Shirt

Things began to happen very quickly.

Too quickly, in Sam's opinion, although the moment the thought occurred to her she felt guilty. If Josh was alive, then every second counted. Especially after it had been so long already.

It turned out that most of the equipment Jess had scrounged from her garage was useless to them – either it was unsafe to use or impossible to bring on a plane. They briefly discussed the possibility of trying to mail it up, but gave up. They'd have to do the same thing to get it to Blackwood. Instead, they decided, they would just try to get what they could once they were there.

Sam ignored a call she received from her parents and one from Melinda Washington. It wasn't like she would change her mind about giving them permission and she couldn't stomach the thought of Melinda's pitying voice. As she packed her bag, she tucked what she'd gotten from Dr. Hill carefully inside a pair of socks. It wasn't fragile, but it felt delicate in her hands and she felt better with it thoroughly cushioned.

It was fortuitous that Emily seemed to have no hesitation when it came to buying their tickets. In the space of two days, Sam had talked to her teachers, given her roommate an excuse and apology, and was on a plane with the others. Nothing felt real. She found herself using the dream test constantly. Could this be true? And she added the question Josh had asked her in the dream-vision to the test: how did you get here?

How did you get here? I climbed in Tess's car and she dropped me off at the airport. Then I walked through the sliding doors, checked my bag, presented my license and ticket, and found the right gate.

How did you get here? I sat on the aisle seat of the plane, ate slightly-stale pretzels, and tried to nap. Instead I read the old yoga magazine I found in Tess's car that she told me to take. Mike fell asleep and snored. Jess listened to music and stared out the window.

How did you get here? We took a taxi together from the airport. Not enough. Details? We hit a pothole as we turned onto the sloped street to Matt's grandmother's house. The driver swore. Jess had laughed and made a weak joke that it was like a roller coaster ride.

How did you get here? Jess bounded ahead of me to knock at the door, so Matt was already opening it as I made it up the last steps. We trooped together into the entryway and deposited our luggage.

It was a tedious game, but somehow it helped reassure her. There were others here. She couldn't be going mad or dreaming if she could trace every step. She shook her head, trying to bring the world back into focus. Jess was hanging off Matt as she talked. "—so good to see you, I can't even say. I can't believe we're here and you're here. It's been forever. I mean, I know it hasn't actually been forever. I just… with the way thing went, it just feels so weird. Sorry." Matt laughed and moved into the living room with her still half-hugging him.

Jess fell abruptly silent. Shooting a confused look at Mike, Sam kicked off her shoes and followed.

When Sam had been younger, her family had two cats. One of them had been an especially talkative orange tom, the other a sulky long-haired white female. They largely stayed out of each other's way, preferring avoidance to confrontation, but once she had found them at the end of the downstairs hallway, frozen as they stared at each other, tails poofed and fur on edge. They'd been the picture of tension and she hadn't known whether doing something would trigger an attack or just cause one of them to run.

Jess and Emily were looking at each other exactly the way the cats had. Emily, who had clearly been sitting on the couch and reading, had put her book down and stood. Jess released Matt and put her hands on her hips. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

Emily's lip twisted in a slight sneer. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to ask for your permission?"

"Um, okay. Nope. We're not doing this again." Matt said, stepping forward and raising his hands. He glanced to Sam and Mike, hopefully.

"Yeah, Matt's right." Mike moved further into the room and gave Emily a quick hug that she did not return. "It's good to see you Em. Jess, we should bring our bags in."

"Our bags are already inside, Michael." She didn't even glance at him, keeping her eyes fixed on Emily. "Don't be an idiot."

"Jess," his voice was tired. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "Can we not? I mean, I'm exhausted already and we aren't even there yet. We can't waste energy on this crap."

Finally she let out a long breath and nodded. "Fine. Sorry. You're right." Jess nodded to Emily. "We're on the same team. Are you—are you coming with us?"

"Of course. At least I was actually useful last time, unlike some parties present."

Jess opened her mouth to retort, then seemed to think better of it and settled for rolling her eyes.

Things settled into an uneasy sort of peace after that. Matt's grandmother was at work, he explained, heating up a massive pot of soup on the stove. They sat or lounged around the kitchen and Sam boosted herself onto a back counter that only held a stack of mail and an old phone handset. She liked the kitchen. In fact, she liked the whole house. She could see why Matt would want to live here. It had all the warmth and worn charm that the Washington Lodge had been trying to force. It reminded her of the house she'd lived in when she was a kid. Tears stung her eyes unexpectedly and she leaned her head back against the wall and let the voices of the group wash over her. Matt was explaining how he'd come to take up cooking and Jess was laughing over old recipes she'd found in a cookbook from the 1950s. Something about gelatin being in everything.

"You okay?" Mike's voice was soft, pitched only for her to hear.

She looked at him and tried to smile, feeling it trembling on her lips. "I think so. I'll let you know again in a month or so."

He chuckled and leaned against the counter beside her. Sitting up on the ledge, she was nearly his height. He fiddled with the knuckles on his injured hand and she found herself staring, fascinated. She'd never really gotten a chance to look at where his fingers had been severed. The ends didn't look quite right – probably the result of a machete amputation by a civilian rather than a real surgeon – although they seemed to be healing well enough. "It was stupid of me," he said, smiling slightly. "I don't know why my brain told me that touching a severed hand was going to be a good thing."

"I feel like I should be making terrible finger- or hand-based puns right now."

"I am very okay with you not doing that."

"I'll just have to practice and save them up for next time."

-o-

"And you think she came to see me?" Dr. Alan Hill steepled his fingers in front of him, watching Melinda closely.

She had trouble meeting his gaze. That sometimes happened, especially when people were uncertain they were doing the right thing. He kept the smile from his face and continued to wait for her to speak. Finally she squared her shoulders and looked at him again. "Yes, I do. Or at least, I think she went to someone else after she spoke with us. I've known Sam many, many years. I don't think she was telling me everything. I've tried to contact her. Bob was… he can be very unpleasant and he was on point when Sam came to see us."

"Does he have a history of unpleasantness?"

"More so recently. The last year or two has been—" she broke off with a short, brittle laugh. "I'm not here for you to analyze, Doctor."

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I apologize, Mrs. Washington. Call it force of habit."

"Back to the original reason I came, if you don't mind: I am certain Sam came to see you. I have it on very good authority."

"Samantha did see me for a few sessions after they returned last month."

"That isn't what I meant. Don't play games with me." Her mouth tightened into a thin line. "Did you play games with my son?"

Alan's eye twitched, but otherwise his facial expression remained the same. "I helped Josh to the best of my ability. As you well know. If I was too late to prevent what happened… you may be assured that I regret I was not more able to see what was happening to him."

Melinda took a deep breath and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt down. She was an attractive woman, albeit looking a bit worn around the edges. She didn't look much like her son, except in some of her mannerisms. Josh had her ability to look annoyed, amused, and utterly guileless at the same time. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But I'm worried about Sam. I turned her away from Blackwood and I'm concerned about how she's holding up. I was hoping that if she spoke to you, you might be able to give me some small insight into what I can do to help her."

"Mrs. Washington, you know I am not at liberty to discuss anything Sam and I have talked about. In fact, unless she shows clear intent to hurt herself or others, I cannot tell a soul what she says."

"And you don't think she might hurt herself?" The genuine concern in Melinda's tone softened him slightly. Despite what Sam had said, it seemed Melinda did still care for her.

"I think Sam is a smart young lady who wouldn't do anything without thinking it through. She's resourceful."

Melinda sat straighter, gaze sharpening. "Resourceful?"

Oh dear. Had he said too much? He smiled, trying to assuage whatever thoughts had just sprung to her mind. "I only mean that Samantha is a logical person. I'd imagine that she's on a path to recovery. Though it may take some time, she is determined. She's not one to give up."

She shook her head, slowly. "No, no she isn't. You're quite right. Thank you Doctor." Melinda stood and extended her hand. After shaking it firmly, she moved towards the door. "You've been quite helpful. I'll get out of your hair."

Dr. Hill watched her go. "Fuck," he said to the empty room. She was more like Josh than he'd realized. Josh had always been remarkably good at reading between the lines. He only hoped Sam was as determined and resourceful as he'd said.

-o-

It was nearly midnight and most of Matt's friends were asleep. The house wasn't particularly large, but there was room enough for them to be camped out across the living room, with Emily firmly claiming the sofa. He'd thought about asking one or more of them to take his bed, but they'd all worked out their sleeping arrangements before he could even mention it.

And he couldn't sleep.

He stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Counting sheep had never worked. Neither did warm milk or any of the other countless insomnia remedies Dad or Grandma had ever pushed on him. With a groan, he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.

There was a soft knock at his door. "Matthew? Are you awake?" His grandmother's voice was pitched low, designed to not disturb him if he was sleeping.

Matt rolled to his side. "Yeah. I'm awake."

The door opened and he blinked as the light from the hall fell across his face, momentarily dazzling him. Rose stood in the open doorway, a dark silhouette against the white wall behind her. "I had a feeling. I'd guess that all your friends are having sleeping issues of their own." She moved into the room and shut the door, then clicked on the desk lamp. "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

He pushed himself up to seated. "About what?"

She gave him a look. "You know about what. About going."

"I don't think I'm going to."

"Why?"

"I don't think I'll be able to help them. And I should be here to help you."

"Bullshit." Her swearing startled him and she chuckled. "You know I swear. I'm a grown woman. But that doesn't matter right now. You know perfectly well that, while I love having you here, I can manage without you. Why don't you think you'll be able to help your friends?"

Deep breath. He might have lied to his parents – didn't every teenager? – but he'd never been able to lie to Rose. She'd always had an uncanny ability to call him on it immediately. Eventually he'd given up even trying. "I couldn't last time. Everything I tried to do just backfired. I couldn't save Em. I nearly got Jess killed when I found her. I mean, I barely got out of there alive. This time won't be any different."

She was watching him with a skeptical eyebrow. It was the same look she gave him when he had been four and tried to claim he hadn't eaten the leftover cupcakes. But this time he wasn't lying. "That's nonsense."

He opened his mouth to protest and she waved him down. "No, listen to me this time. Sometimes things don't work out. If you miss a catch, do you quit the game? No, because you're letting your team down. They know you didn't make a mistake on purpose. And they know that next time, the odds reset. Just because you missed one doesn't mean you'll miss the next." She pointed at him. "Unless you let it get into your head that you're always going to miss."

"But—"

"No," she cut him off. "I told you to listen. So listen. Actually listen and think about what I'm saying. Your parents would kill me if they knew I was encouraging to go out into something dangerous and do something that most people would think was stupid. But here's the way I see it: your friends down there are going to go. Whether they're right about your friend being alive or not, they're going. And it's going to be dangerous. I've known you your whole life, jelly-bean," she said, winking at him as she used his old nickname. "—and if you don't go, you're going to regret it." Without waiting for a response, she turned out the light and left, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Matt sat in the dark for a while, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. Then he quietly slipped out of his room and padded downstairs. He picked his way through his sleeping friends and shook Emily's shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.

He whispered as quietly as he could, trying not to wake the others: "Can you get me a ticket too?"

Her lips curved up in a little smile. "I already did," she murmured sleepily. "I had a feeling you would change your mind."

"No way."

"Okay, I hoped you would change your mind." Emily shut her eyes again. "Now go to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

-o-

How did you get here?

For a mercy, things went smoothly the next day. Matt's grandmother drove them all to the airport and they loaded onto the plane without incident. It helped that they all had made an almost identical trip only a short time before. The only difference was that this time they were all traveling together.

Emily stayed as far from Jess as possible, which made Sam roll her eyes. At least they weren't fighting, though. She would be grateful for small favors.

There was a small town near the lower cable car station. None of them had ever spent much time there, instead walking or taking a bus straight to the gate. This time, though, they stopped there to get their bearings. Most of the "city" was a trendy little strip of shops and cafes, populated mostly by bored-seeming locals and the occasional snow bunny. There was a resort at the edge of the lake and guests would come up to buy bottles of wine, vintage tchotchkes, or whatever else struck their fancy. Separated from the overpriced tourist area by a few streets was a small grocery store and a gas station, plus a diner and a few other various necessities for the locals.

It was in the diner that the group gathered, crammed into a single booth to settle on a plan. Night had fallen and outside the snow was lit to a bright glow by the fluorescents of the gas station next door.

"I am not staying here," Jess said, folding her arms over her chest mutinously. "You can't force me to just sit around and wait for you guys."

"Look, someone should stay here. We can use the radios, since there's no signal once we get further up. That way someone can be a sort-of safety net for the rest of the group. They can call in help if we need it. I know it sucks, but it makes sense." Sam wrapped her hands around her steaming coffee and tried to think of a better way to justify it. "We know the fire tower is gone. Who knows if there's another emergency radio up there we'll be able to access."

"That's fine. It's smart. I'm just not going to be the one sitting on my ass while the rest of you go up the mountain."

Matt groaned. "I'll do it. I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "I know you wanted to go."

"We all want to go. That's why we're here. But you're right. It makes sense. I'll get a room at that motel we passed. It seemed cheap and it's well-positioned, right? I'll stay there and keep in touch with you guys. I can also let you know if I hear any weather advisories or anything."

"Thanks," Mike said, grinning at him. "I'd go crazy cooped up down here."

"Sure."

"Okay, so the four of us will head up the mountain once it's light out." Sam smiled around the table, bravely. Somehow being here, in this slightly grimy diner with its surprisingly good coffee, made the whole trip feel more possible. Maybe they could find Josh. They could bring him home.

The waitress brought their food and vanished behind the counter again. Jess hesitated, looking at her burger, then seemed to steel herself. "Mike, can I talk to you for just a sec? It's not a big deal. I just keep forgetting and I don't want to forget again."

He shrugged, confused, and followed her down the narrow hallway towards the bathrooms. She stopped by a payphone that looked like it had seen better days and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "So, um. Yeah."

"Yeah?" He had no idea what she wanted to say, so he couldn't help her out. He waited, expectantly.

"We broke up, didn't we?" It took him by surprise. She continued, her words pouring out in a nervous rush. "I mean, I hope I didn't misread the situation. I know we never really talked about it and I know this probably seems like a terrible time. Our food just came and everything. But I just mean… I want to get things really sorted out. Just in case."

"Just in case? In case of what?" Did she think they were going to die?

She seemed to read his mind. "I don't mean it like that. I'm not sorting out my final affairs. Really I should have talked to you about this a long time ago, like I said. But ever since everything… I know we have sex and it's good – it is good, by the way – but we're not together. I don't think we've really been together since everything happened. I mean, I love you. I guess that sounds ridiculous. 'I love you and we have sex, but we're not together.' Ugh!" She put her hands on her hips tried to catch her breath.

Mike put his hands on her shoulders and tried to steady her. "Hey. Jess. It's fine. I get it." His smile was a little sad. "I was feeling the same way."

"You were?"

She looked so relieved that he laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah. I love you too. I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad we finally talked about this. But now I'm going to go eat before my eggs get cold. I can't think of anything worse than cold diner eggs."

Jess leaned back to smile up at him. "You really were excellent in bed, you know."

He flashed an exaggerated grin and stood as heroically as possible. "Feel free to tell me that whenever you want to."

She cuffed him lightly on the arm. "I don't think your ego needs any more help in that department, Michael. Let's go eat."

-o-

In the room they rented to be Matt's base of operations, the group tried to get a few hours of sleep before dawn rolled around.

Jess dreams: She dreams she is walking through a field of flowers. It's bright and sunny, but turning cold. The cold grows, the air flavored with oncoming frost. She was not ready for winter; she is wearing her favorite sundress and flipflops.

Mike dreams: The jacket of his tux is a little tight across the shoulders and he seems to have lost his tie. Senior prom was at the aquarium and he is looking up once more as a multitude of colored lights illuminate the whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling. He raises his hand to shield his eyes and see more clearly; his fingers are a bloody mess, staining the cuff of his shirt.

Matt dreams: He's sitting in a small room, looking out a window. Outside, it's snowing hard and all the trees are covered with a thick layer of white. There is one lone set of footprints leading off into the woods, rapidly being buried. Something dark has dripped along the path of footprints, but he can't tell what it is from this distance.

Emily dreams: Jess's hair is silky and long in her hands as Emily plaits it back from her face. She smells like the lotion she used to wear in junior high – like peaches and sugar. It's overly sweet and grows in intensity the longer she braids.

Sam dreams: Josh is chasing her. She knows it's Josh, even though he's wearing a terrifying mask and coveralls that appear to be padded. He grabs her and this time there is no baseball bat. She tries to pull off his mask, shouting his name, begging him to call it off now, before things get worse. The mask is fused to the skin around his throat.

Far from them,

Chris dreams: He was always good at solving Rubix cubes, but this one just won't cooperate. He knows the pattern, the way to bring it into harmony, but every time he gets close, the colors shift on him. It should make him angry, but it just makes him sad. He keeps twisting it, trying in vain to finish it.

Ashley dreams: Everything is covered in butterflies. Yellow ones, white ones, red ones, brown ones. She thinks she sees one or two black-winged butterflies as well, but the insects move too much for her to see clearly. More and more appear, until the world is nothing but a shifting mass of wings.

And closer, but also farther away,

Josh dreams, or does not dream. He screams or is silent. He twitches in his sleep; he rests like the dead. He is dead. He struggles to breathe. He's starving. He's broken. He's healthy. He's hale. Josh dreams, or is a dream. He's not sure anymore.