Chapter Seventeen:

That Effigy You're Lighting

Emily and Sam were the first to make it to the surveillance room. Sam found herself holding her breath for long portions of the trip, walking through the familiar, nightmarish layout of the basement. Here and there she saw things that should have been red-flags the first time around: industrial lighting fixtures, a fog machine, various other plans and schematics Josh must have neglected to put away before things started. It made her feel stupid, but she tried to let it go. How was she supposed to pay attention to stuff like that when she was being chased by a masked madman with a gas canister?

She didn't talk and Em didn't press her. She found herself appreciating Emily more and more. They'd never really been friends, especially after the shit she'd pulled with Hannah, but the girl seemed to understand the value of silence.

They passed through a narrow, rubble-strewn hallway and Sam led them to the drop where she'd entered the old hotel for the first time. Glancing towards the dumbwaiter where she'd hidden from him, she shuddered and tried to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. She could almost hear him, with that deep, fucked-up voice modification he'd used. Here little kitty. Here pussy, pussy… What was he punishing her for? She could think of at least a dozen possibilities, each as likely as the next. She remembered him realizing he'd lost her and swearing. It almost made her want to laugh now, though there was really nothing funny about it. If she'd been less panicked, she might have realized then that it was Josh—the pure frustration in his voice had been so clearly him.

She didn't want to still be angry with him, but she was. A sick part of her had been relieved to find out he'd planned a torture for the other girls. That same part of her wanted to see the room Jess and Emily had found, to examine what their punishment was going to be and compare it to what she'd been through. Had Josh planned something for Mike? For Matt? Would Josh even remember if she asked him?

They passed through one of Josh's workshops. A pig's disemboweled corpse hung from a hook and made Sam fight her gag reflex, but at least the temperature had kept it from rotting. Emily tried one of the sinks and they were both relieved to see the water still running. Whatever system Josh had rigged down here was still at least partially intact.

That was good. She could focus on that. Sam was good at practicalities. She and Em made their way to the room full of monitors and dropped their burdens. Together, they assessed the room. It looked largely the same as last time they'd been there. As much as Sam was loathe to be here, it was a pretty good place to hole up. She tried the surveillance system, but it didn't turn on. Knowing Josh, he probably had a backup power plan around somewhere if they could find it. Maybe he could show them, if he caught up.

They heard the others long before they saw them. Mike and Jessica were not particularly stealthy in their approach. Sam would have found it amusing if she'd had the energy. Her body still hurt and, though she didn't feel hungry, knew she needed to eat.

"Look who we found!" Mike announced as he entered, gesturing behind him to a white and grey wolf. It looked intensely pleased with itself, as if it was responsible for herding the two there.

Sam blinked at him. "Um… what… are we supposed to feed it?"

He grinned triumphantly at her and she felt her cheeks go hot, looking quickly back at the wolf. From the corner of her eye, she saw his smile falter slightly. "It can take care of itself. Can't you, Wolfie?"

"'Wolfie'?" Emily said, voice dripping with incredulity. "Seriously?"

"I told him it was a dumb name," Jess said, crossing the room. She set her load down with a clunk and Sam looked over. Jessica bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands excitedly and pumping one fist into the air. "Yep! It's a flamethrower!"

"What, really? It really is? That's great!" Sam glanced at Mike. "Shut the door?" As he shut and bolted it, she went to examine Jess's find. Sure enough, it seemed to be some kind of makeshift flamethrower, like something Josh and Chris would have cobbled together in high school when they had more free time than common sense. "Did you test it?"

"Not yet. We just wanted to get back here. All the valves and stuff still twist though. It doesn't seem like it's jammed or empty."

They spread the supplies across the floor. It was better than they'd expected. There were the cans of beans, the huge bag of rice, the remaining rations from both Sam and Jess's bags. Sam mentally reviewed what they'd seen in the kitchen before their untimely attack and the fire. There was probably more up there if they needed to go back. Or there might even be stuff in the basement. She vaguely remembered seeing metal shelves of canned goods when she'd helped Josh get the water heater going.

"Do the cameras still work?" Mike asked, looking up at the wall of monitors.

Emily shrugged. "Not sure. It doesn't look like they're getting any power."

"Were they on the main grid?"

"How the fuck would I know? You think I designed this lodge? Or spent a ton of time chatting with Josh about how he set up his torture palace?"

Mike stood and crossed to examine them, tracing the cords to a small opening in the wall. "We should try to find out. If there's a way to power them up, that could be really helpful. We could see that thing coming if it tries to get in here. And maybe even see Hannah."

The room went dead silent. Sam stared at him and he tensed, not looking at her.

"What—what did you say?" She looked to the other girls, who wouldn't meet her eyes. "What's going on? Why would we see Hannah? Hannah died in the lodge explosion. I know she did." That was just a fact. She couldn't be alive still. She couldn't be. The air seemed suddenly thin around her and she found herself breathing shallowly, trying desperately to get enough air. She couldn't take this, not on top of Josh turning into a monster. She couldn't kill her best friend again. She wouldn't survive it.

"No—" Mike quickly knelt in front of her, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her slightly to bring her back to the present. "Sam, no. It's fine. You're right. She's dead. She died in the explosion."

Emily's voice was sharp. "'It's fine. She's dead'? Jesus, Mike. Way to be comforting."

Mike shot her a dirty look before turning back to Sam. "It's just… She's still here. Somehow. Like a ghost. Jess and Em saw her at the sanitorium. I don't know what that means, but she's not a wendigo. That Hannah died. I remember. I saw it too. I'm sorry. I should—I shouldn't have said anything. I'm an idiot. You know me." He tried to laugh, but it died in his throat.

Numbly, she turned to look at the girls. Em just looked stone-faced and stubborn. Jess forced a smile, but her face was twisted with pain and guilt. The blonde tried to elaborate. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you before. It just didn't seem like the right time. I… she…" Jess struggled to find the words. "Maybe we were just imagining things. I just… there's other stuff going on up here, I think. Stuff we weren't ready for. And we saw Hannah. She…"

She was interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door. The four of them stared at each other, then Sam moved stood slowly and moved around Mike to answer it. It wouldn't do any good to ask who it was, not with the big monster so good at mimicking other people. Shit, it could answer as Chris and she still wouldn't have any way of knowing whether it was true or not. She opened the door, braced for an attack.

Josh was standing on the other side, his hands clasped in front of him and looked vaguely bashful, like a hellish version of a Norman Rockwell painting. He smiled ruefully, but the effect of it was unfortunate, given the disfigurement on half his face. "Tag, you're it."

She opened the door further to let him in.

As she bolted the door again, she heard an audible gasp behind her and realized belatedly that she hadn't warned Jessica or Emily about Josh's transformation. It had been too fresh when they were sharing their stories and she hadn't been able to really explain. Not that she'd lied, exactly—just sort of glossed over that part of things. Kind of like them leaving out the bit about seeing Hannah's fucking ghost, she thought bitterly.

Jess's eyes were wide, but she didn't look actively terrified. Mike must have told her. Emily, on the other hand…

"Are you fucking kidding me? We are not letting him in here!" Emily snarled. She eyed Josh, her hand on her hip. "Look at him! He's halfway to being a monster."

Josh shrank back slightly, eyes wide and wild as he looked from Emily to Mike to Jess to Sam. He looked like a cornered, wounded animal which, Sam thought, wasn't entirely untrue. She could see blood on his face and torso that hadn't been there before the events of the morning. She wasn't denying that Emily had a right to be upset, but Josh was looking edgier by the second and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was seconds away from bolting. If he did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to find him again. Not if he didn't want to be found. "Em, just calm down. It's not a big deal. We're watching him, we're going to be careful—"

The girl rounded on Sam. "Really? It's not a big deal? Are you kidding me right now? Mike almost fucking shot me because you guys thought there was even a tiny chance I was going to turn into one of them and now suddenly it's fine? Now that it's precious, darling, crazy Josh that's turning into a wendigo right in front of us, it's totally okay and worth the risk? You don't get why that makes me, you know, just a tiny bit pissed?"

Sam opened her mouth to respond and Em raised a hand. "I don't want to fucking hear it. You guys are fucking unbelievable."

"Em…" Jess's voice was soft. She put her hand on Emily's arm, trying to calm her.

"Shut the fuck up, Jess. You weren't there. You didn't see your precious hero holding his gun to my head while I begged him not to kill me. Did he tell you about that? Did he tell about how he shoved a gun in my face and fucking apologized while he tried to gear himself up to shoot me?" Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Emily raised her head defiantly to regard Mike. Her voice was suddenly low, dangerous. "'This is the safe room, Em.' Right? 'It's not safe as long as you're in it.' Yeah, I remember. I remember exactly what you fucking said to me. It's not the kind of thing you forget."

"We know things now, from the journal—" Sam said, trying to reason with her. It was insane, though. She knew it. She knew what a crazy risk it was to have Josh in there with them.

Emily laughed bitterly. "Right! Yeah, of course. How could I forget the crazy old dude's journal! Silly me. That obviously invalidates every argument I could possibly make about why inviting an in-progress cannibal monster into the safehouse is a bad idea." She shook her head and threw her good hand into the air. "Fine. Whatever. Invite the monster in for tea. I'm sure it won't end horribly for all of us." She turned to Josh. "I found your little room for Jess and me. Congrats. That was an A-plus design. Well done. Beautifully psychotic, you fucking nut-job."

Sam tried to protest, but before she could Josh straightened and grinned humorlessly at her. "Thanks. I was bummed you never got a chance to use it."

"Oh, fuck you very much, you piece of shit." Emily grabbed her flashlight and left, shoving him hard with her uninjured shoulder as she passed.

Mike started after her but Jess grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "Wow, no. Nope. You're really bad at reading situations, Michael. She does not want to talk to you right now."

"But I—"

"Apologize later," Jess said, shrugging. "She's going to punch you if you go out there and, frankly, you totally have it coming." She flashed him a small, icy smile, then vanished out into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Josh closed his eyes, swaying in place, then took three unsteady steps towards the wall and sank down to sit. He slumped forward, his head on his knees. Sam quickly moved over to him. "Josh, she didn't mean—"

"Yeah she did."

Sam slid down the wall to sit next to him. She wondered if he had seen Hannah too, or if he'd even remember if he had. She was too tired, too sore, too hungry for this. Her mind was coming up blank with anything to say to make things better. Back before things had gotten so bad, she had known how to comfort him. She would have put her head on his shoulder or wrapped her arms around him, but now that seemed inappropriate: an intimacy suggesting more than was possible. Finally she just tipped her head back to look up at the damaged ceiling of the saferoom, searching for answers in the water stains.

"Why did it have to be here?" He said finally, voice still muffled by his knees. "Sam, why did you have to come here?"

"It was Mike's idea." Across the room, Mike's face was closed, serious and unreadable. He turned away and she heard the soft sound of a pill bottle being opened. She watched his back, noting the subtle shift in his shoulders as he lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed. They still hadn't talked. She found herself missing the time when it had been just the two of them, then immediately felt guilty for the thought and looked away.

"Of course it was." Josh didn't sound bitter or upset, just unsurprised. "Of course. It makes sense, tactically, right? Cameras and monitors on an independently run generator to help watch for the Talker. So of course, it's here. You're here. Makes perfect sense. Don't know why I didn't think of it myself, actually. Must be losing my mind." He barked a laugh.

She closed her eyes. "The Talker?"

Without lifting his head, he waved one hand vaguely. "The thing that talks. It does talk, right? I wasn't imagining that bit?"

"No, you weren't. Have you seen it before today?"

"Told me it wouldn't eat me," he mumbled. "Or I think that's what it said. Can't remember very well. Something about not tasting good. Guess that makes sense too, since I'm turning into a big nasty monster. Like a bad B-movie or something. Look out, Lon Chaney, I'm coming for you. Gonna be the next big thing in Hollywood. Dad'll be so proud." Josh growled dramatically into his knees, the sound dissolving into another bout of hoarse laughter.

Sam pulled the bottle of pills from her pocket and set it down next to him. "Here. I think you should have these. In case we're separated again."

At that, his head reared up and he grabbed her arm with bruising force. "Don't leave, Sam," he whispered desperately. "Please, Sammy. I can't… Please don't leave me. I know I don't deserve it. But… please." She made a slight noise of pain and his eyes dropped down to where he was holding her. Josh swallowed hard, every muscle movement exaggerated by his emaciation. He seemed to have trouble forcing himself to release her. Slowly he pried his own fingers away, pulling his hand back and sitting on it.

"I'm not planning to leave you." She tried to sound cheerful and confident. "But it's better if you have them in case something separates us briefly. Just in case. Right? It's a plan B."

"Damn, Sammy. I figured if we were ever talking Plan B pills it'd be because we had a way more exciting night than this one."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Nice. Real nice. Now I know you're feeling better." Across the room, Mike pulled a cord roughly from one monitor, the metal connector on the end hitting the wall with a louder noise than she would have expected.

Josh didn't smile. "You know Em is probably right, right? Heh. Right-right. I shouldn't be in here."

"Screw that. No. She'll get over it. We know more now than we did then. The transformation isn't overnight. And I'm not leaving you out in the hall like a bad dog."

"You'd be better off if you did."

"Shut up, Josh," she said, elbowing him gently. "We're not having that conversation again."

Josh just watched her in silence. Finally, he glanced at Mike, then back to Sam. "So what now? Now that we're—" his eyes flicked around the room and then fluttered closed. "—here?"

"I'm not sure. I guess we need to eat, right? And sleep? While we can?" As if on cue, she found she couldn't suppress a yawn. She raised her hand to cover her mouth and winced. Every single part of her hurt and reminded her of that fact. Loudly. It wasn't every day you got thrown through a wall.

Mike addressed Josh for the first time since he'd reached the safe room. "Did you say these cameras run on a separate generator?"

He grunted in affirmation.

"Where is it? We should get them powered up. Then we'll know if we can relax a little." Mike hefted his flashlight. "I can go get it turned on."

"I'll show you. Faster."

"I— okay." He looked at Sam and she couldn't read his expression. When had Mike turned into a closed book? He used to be so easy for her to read, wearing his emotions on his face for everyone to see. Or maybe she'd just never been someone he'd hidden around. She rubbed her eyes. She was too tired. Her mind was running away with her. They'd all feel better once they were secure, well-fed, and rested.

The two men left, the door shutting behind them with a reassuringly solid thunk. Wolfie padded over to Sam and sat down, resting its head neatly on its paws. She smiled a little and reached over to let it sniff her hand, settling back to wait.

-o-

Jess followed the sound of Emily swearing down the hallway. Now that they were back down here, she understood the layout a little better. She glanced to the left at an intersection and knew she'd find the trap room Josh had designed for them that way. Thankfully, Emily apparently wasn't quite that pissed off. Instead she had wandered towards a large open area that had once been some kind of lobby or landing. She was pacing from wall to wall, muttering to herself.

"Em?"

"I am not apologizing," the other girl snapped. "It's bullshit. They're wrong and they fucking know it."

Leaning on the wall, Jess tried to steady herself, to get her head to stop throbbing and figure out a way to handle Emily. All things considered, though, she wasn't actually sure Emily deserved 'handling' at all. Mike had mentioned the bit with the gun, but he'd glossed over the details. "Is that really what happened?" she asked, finally. "With Mike?"

Em's head came up and she stopped pacing. She looked both furious and seconds from bursting into tears which, for Em, was a big deal. Emily didn't cry. Almost ever. Jess could count the number of times she'd seen Emily in tears on one hand. On Mike's hand, even. Her voice was hard. "Yeah. That's what really happened."

"Oh shit. Em, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

She gave a one-armed shrug and tried, unsuccessfully, to look like she didn't care. "Whatever. I just can't believe they're letting him hang around. And I can't believe they didn't tell us. Oh, wait, yes I can. Because they're assholes."

"I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Why you left afterwards. When we got back off the mountain." Jess tried not to look at Emily as she spoke. Sometimes Em was like an animal or something—move too fast or be too direct and she'd attack. "Want me to punch him for you?"

Emily snorted. "I can punch him myself, thank you very much."

"Yeah, but you fucked up your arm. Probably best if you let me handle it."

"My hero."

"Yeah, well," Jessica smiled, her cheeks flushing. She hated that. She always blushed too easily. "You did save me. Only fair I return the favor. And since your life isn't currently in danger, I figure I can try atoning for past injustices. Since I wasn't there to punch him the first time around."

Crossing the room, Emily leaned against the wall next to her. They stood in silence, listening to the soft creaks and groans of the old, dilapidated building. Distantly they could hear talking. A door opened and closed. Nothing seemed particularly threatening; it was easy to feel safe here, surrounded by old furniture and knowing their friends were close. Taking a slow, careful breath, Jess murmured: "He wasn't wrong, though."

"Um, yeah, he totally was."

"No—I mean, yeah. He was totally wrong to hold a gun to your head. That's not what I was trying to say. I just mean… if it was you, in his position, what would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have shot him!"

Jess tipped back and forth on her toes, stretching the arches of her feet in her boots. "I know. But the leaving part? Getting him out of the saferoom?"

The other girl scowled and adjusted her sling. "I—"

"Em…" Jess could feel when Emily was revving up to anger again. "I'm just saying. He absolutely deserves to be punched in the face—and, again, I totally volunteer for that—but you can't stay out here. And I don't think they're completely wrong about Josh. Sam's read that whole journal, right? And Mike saw all those records about how the transformation happens. It doesn't happen instantaneously. Everyone was panicking, that night. But we're not panicking now. We're some smart, savvy ladies. We got this."

"We most emphatically do not 'got this,'" Em muttered mutinously.

Jess raised her hand, three fingers extended. "I swear on my honor as a very prepared former girl scout that I will blast Josh in the face with my shiny new flame thrower the second he gets uppity."

"He's still an asshole. Even without the monster bit."

"Um, yep. Definitely. But he also doesn't deserve to die up here alone."

Emily rolled her eyes and huffed. "Yeah, I guess." She fidgeted a little, then let herself drop to sit on the ground. "Do we have to go back right now, though? I just… I want to be out of that room for a little bit. Josh smells fucking terrible, among other things."

"Right?!" Jess slid down to join her. She held her hands out in front of her. "You know what I'm going to do? First thing when we get out of here?"

"What?"

"Massage. And maybe a mani-pedi. You in?"

The other girl laughed and let her head fall to rest on Jess's shoulder. "Yeah. I'm in."

-o-

Josh tried to ignore Mike as they headed for the generator, but it was hard when he felt like he was constantly being watched. "It's just ahead," he said finally. "Should still work."

"You really thought it all through."

He glanced at Mike. "Yep. Sure did."

His response effectively killed all further attempts at conversation, which wasn't what he was going for, but was a happy result. Mike looked uncomfortable, which was another win as far as Josh was concerned. He tried to focus. Generator. Power. Security cameras. It took a few minutes to get the generator up and running, but eventually it was rumbling along, doing its thing. Josh saw Mike smile in relief. He straightened. "And back we go. Epic adventure, Munroe. We barely made it out alive."

As he crossed the room, Mike straightened, then wrinkled his nose. "Do you—did you stash more clothes down here somewhere? No offense, bud, but you reek and that outfit cannot be warm at this point."

Josh smiled grimly. "Hey, the spa in the mines only had lavender-scented skin oil. Not my fault." Lavender. Hannah was lavender. Beth was vanilla. He shook his head, trying to get off that train of thought. For a split second, he thought he saw Hannah's desiccated, monstrous face staring at him from over Mike's shoulder, but he blinked and it dissolved again.

He stopped walking to consider. It seemed almost silly, the idea of bathing or changing after so long in this same outfit, but from the moment Mike had mentioned the clothes, they started to itch. Sure, it was probably actual grime making them agitate his skin, but it was the idea of them that really kept bugging him. It was like walking around in a reminder of what he'd done. He looked down at the Psycho's ragged jumpsuit. The shoulder was brown and crusted with blood from where Ashley had stabbed him with scissors, not to mention all the other blood and refuse from Hannah and the rest of the time in the mine.

"I'll meet you back in the monitor station—er… the safe room." That's what they were calling it now. He wasn't about to make them refer to it the way he had back when… back when he'd had other priorities.

"I am not leaving you alone."

"Dude. I just want to go wash up and get the clothes. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

Mike raised his eyebrows and seemed about to argue, then shrugged. "Fine. An hour. You've got an hour and then I'm going to come find you."

Josh swept him an elaborate, low bow with a mocking smile. "Yes, my lord, my liege. The cameras should be working now. I'll be back." He turned and loped away, inexplicably glad to be leaving Mike's company and his sharp, judgmental eyes. His thoughts were clearer than they had been in recent days, though whether that was due to the medicine Sam had given him or due to simply being out of the mine, Josh wasn't sure.

He navigated the halls easily, avoiding the room where he could hear Emily and Jess talking. Had Mike really tried to shoot Em? That was kind of hilarious, all things considered. A better revenge on Em than anything he could ever orchestrate. Of course, in hindsight he probably shouldn't have taunted her just now about the prank he'd planned for her and Jess, but whatever. He opened a small janitorial closet and retrieved his clothes. They were the only ones down here and easily accessible. He didn't want to take more than an hour, not only because he really didn't want Captain Munroe hunting him down with righteous indignation, but because he didn't want to make Sam worry.

The water was still on in his old workshop. He stripped down to nothing and hosed off, the freezing water not bothering him nearly as much as he'd expected. There was still a knob of the harsh, industrial soap he'd used to clean up after butchering the pigs and he relished the near-pain of it. It felt like he was removing a full layer of skin along with the thick crust of dirt and blood and filth. He dunked his head into the sink and let the water run through his hair as he scrubbed his face. No towel or anything, but he had an old cotton sheet which would serve.

He was loathe to admit it, but he was grateful to Mike for the suggestion. He felt miles better, dressed in different clothes and mostly clean. In his workshop, in his own old clothes, it felt almost like nothing had changed. Like he was about to go check a piece of his plan or manipulate Cochise into the next step. At least his own body kept him from sinking too deep into that idea; his fingers explored his face, running over the exposed teeth and the new ridges around his eye. He'd felt the change slowly, after he'd… after he'd been forced to resort to… he couldn't quite bring himself to complete the thought. His stomach growled. He was hungry.

He was always hungry.

No shower, no new outfit could distract him from that fact.

Emily was right, he thought again. Sam might be protective and determined, but it didn't negate the simple truth. He shouldn't be in the safe room. Even with Sam just sitting quietly next to him, he could smell her blood, her scent, and wanted her. He wanted to devour her, in every sense.

"Jo-osh," Beth called, swinging around the edge of a shelving unit, her head tilted at a crazy, broken angle. "Oh Josh. You should run now, while you can."

Hannah slung an arm around his shoulders. "Or you could just off yourself, you know, brother-mine. There's still a gun in the drawer in the monitor station. The one in the filing cabinet."

"No cameras in here, you know. Of course you know. You're the one who installed them. No one would see you. You could leave and no one would be any the wiser."

"Or you could go back and get the gun." Hannah leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You never did have a chance to play with Emily. Or sweet little Jessica, for all Mike thought you did."

Unthinkingly, he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating out from deep in his chest. It startled him and he swallowed hard, pulling the bottle of pills from the discarded rags that had been his costume. He looked at the label. It directed him to take it no more than twice daily. That was good enough. He popped the cap and swallowed one, wincing as it worked its way down his dry throat. He could still see Hannah and Beth. Was it progress to think that they were hallucinations? After all, he'd known they weren't really there along. They couldn't have been. But it didn't make their arguments any less persuasive.

He shoved the bottle into the pocket of his jeans and yanked on his boots. On either side, in the periphery of his vision, he could see his sisters grinning at him. "Fuck off," he muttered, knotting the laces tightly. He had to get back. Back to the others and back to Sam, before this place, the fake stalker photos on the wall, the half-butchered pig, the memories got their claws too deeply into him.

-o-

Sam didn't fall asleep, but she was zoning out, staring at the wall, when the monitors abruptly lit up. Her head jerked up and she stared at them blankly for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing. It was nothing terribly exciting. She could see a few rooms she recognized, including the one with a dummy still dressed in her old outfit and the table with the saws where they'd found Ash and Chris. There was another room that she thought fit Jessica's description of the one intended for her and Emily. In a random camera shot she didn't recognize, she could see Emily and Jessica talking. There were a few other views, various spots around the basement and old hotel, plus one that looked like the cable car station, but nothing stood out.

That was good, at least. It was something. Being able to see made her feel slightly safer.

The door creaked open and she sprang to her feet, ready to run or fight. Beside her, Wolfie looked up but didn't rise. Mike poked his head in and looked embarrassed. "Sorry," he said. "I should have knocked or something."

She glanced at the monitors. "I thought I'd have seen you coming. Guess there's no camera in the hall right there." He slipped inside and bolted the door. Sam frowned. "Where's Josh?"

"Getting a change of clothes." He seemed to feel her displeasure and raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I tried to go with him. He insisted he didn't need someone to watch him and said he'd find his way back here as soon as he could. I gave him an hour." Mike ran his hand over his face tiredly, then moved across the room to lean on the table and peer into the monitors. He spotted the one that showed Emily and Jessica and his shoulders stiffened. "Think they'll come back?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I'm sure they will. Just give them a little time."

"I meant to—I tried to tell Jess. But I just—how do you explain something like that?" His voice was bleak as he stared at the girls. "I can't believe I did that."

"You didn't do it, though."

"I almost did. I was angry at myself for not doing it. Shooting Em. Fuck." His head dropped. His voice was barely audible: "Fuck."

Without realizing what she was doing, Sam had crossed the room and put her hand on his shoulder. He was tense and trembling under her fingers. "Mike, it's okay."

"It's not okay."

She couldn't really argue. "No. It's not. But it will be, eventually. She's hurt. We should have told her about Josh and not let it be a surprise. That's as much my fault as it is yours. Maybe even more so. She came with me, after all. I should have told her." In the monitor's slightly distorted picture, Emily nudged Jess with her knee and both girls smiled. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it seemed the storm had passed for the moment. The storm out there, at least. "Mike?"

He lifted his head to look at her. His mouth tipped up in a one-sided smile that didn't touch the rest of his face. "How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"How do you know that it will be okay? Any of this? Josh, Emily, the monster thing… Hannah? It's just one thing on top of another and I just—how do you know?"

"Because you promised, remember? Top team." He didn't look amused. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen Mike look this exhausted. His face was pale and the circles under his eyes were so dark they looked bruised. She wished he would smile for real, or laugh, or make a stupid joke. Something to reassure her that he was still Mike under all the soot and pain. She flicked his nose lightly. "Hey, Captain Human-Battering-Ram. You promised me."

He caught her hand. Slowly, tentatively, he turned her hand over, examining it. Her palms were filthy, riddled with tiny cuts and scrapes from everything they'd been through in the last days. Her thumbnail was torn short and ragged. They weren't pretty hands, she knew. Once upon a time, she'd liked to wear lotion, to paint her own nails. Hannah had taught her how to do simple nail art, though she was only decent at it with one hand. But recently it had seemed pointless.

Mike looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "Sam, we should talk. About before. I didn't mean—I don't—" He groaned. "This is like the worst possible timing for anything. Ever."

As if to prove him right, there was a knock at the door. They stared at each other, and Mike let go of her hand reluctantly. She quickly crossed back to where she'd been sitting before. He unbolted the door and peered outside, then backed up to let it open more fully. As Josh stepped around Mike and into the room, Sam's heart caught painfully in her throat. In profile, his face was perfect, unchanged. The dark Henley, the blue plaid shirt, the jeans—even the olive-green puffer vest was there. The white beanie was sticking out of a vest pocket, too big to fit there properly. He could have stepped straight out of that night. He dropped a small pile of ragged-looking blankets onto the ground as he entered.

"I thought you ruined that shirt during the first… the thing with Chris and Ashley." She didn't seem to be able to say the word 'prank.'

He didn't meet her eyes, instead turning to scan the monitors as he spoke. "I had to have two sets. Didn't know how the timing would work. What if I had to see some of you guys before everything went down? I couldn't explain a totally different outfit. I stashed it down here when I changed into the jumpsuit."

His matter-of-fact tone made her stomach hurt. "Oh." She turned back to the food. "You should eat."

The door opened again and Jess came in, followed closely by Emily. "Isn't the whole point of having this room that we can keep the door, you know, bolted?" Jess asked pointedly, turning to set the bolts in place herself. "Makes a safe room a lot less safe if it doesn't get locked."

Emily eyed Josh. "You look marginally less disgusting."

"Thanks. You don't."

"Fuck you." She opened one of the granola bars still remaining and took a bite. "Fine. So what's the plan."

"Eat if you're hungry and sleep while you can, I guess," Sam said, shrugging. "I'll keep watch first for anyone who wants to sleep. I think the thing—the Talker?—is nocturnal and now we have the cameras, so that should help. At some point, those of us who need to should probably get our injuries cleaned up."

"Maintenance stuff." Mike nodded.

Jess raised her hand. "Um… not to be 'that person,' but why don't we just head back down the mountain? It's not like the thing can follow us all the way back." She caught Josh's glare and he gestured vaguely to his disfigured face, scowling. "Oh… Nevermind."

"Another day won't kill us," Sam pointed out. "We'll figure things out as soon as we're all in better shape."

"Another day might kill us," Em muttered, grabbing one of the blankets and retreating to a corner of the room.

Sam didn't want to agree with her, so she settled for opening a can of beans instead.

-o-

The snow was intense, but Ashley felt like they were making good time. She wondered how it had gone for the others. Maybe it was easier with only the two of them. She imagined that four people, especially those particular four, would have disagreements and butt heads, but she at Matt were happily in sync. She'd always liked Matt. They'd met in Model U.N., where she had assumed he'd simply followed Mike. In reality, joining had been Matt's idea. His parents had wanted him to join an academic club and he told Ashley that he liked what he'd heard about the U.N. in history.

He wasn't always the most vocal, but she could rely on him to be level-headed and think things through. All in all, she was glad he was the one she was traveling with now. The only one she'd maybe prefer was Sam, and she wasn't even sure about that. There would have been pressure with Sam. Sam was a do-er. She always seemed to move with purpose and Ash was still struggling with her newfound decision to believe everything was real.

She couldn't even really believe she was here. In a way it was good it was freezing. The cold was undeniable. She couldn't pretend this was just a particularly vivid daydream.

They made straight for the lodge, using a compass and the cable car lines to keep them oriented correctly. They rested for a few hours under a rocky overhang that mostly sheltered them from the snow, huddled together, then pressed on. There was no good place to camp, even if they had a tent suitable for this weather. They also didn't dare rest any more than they absolutely had to—neither knew how long they had before Ashley's dream would become reality.

Most of the time it was hard to even talk and they kept their scarves up and wrapped around their faces. She focused on keeping her footing and the puzzle of the cure hinted at in the journal. With most puzzles, Ashley found that the key to solving them came from breaking down what she knew, then assessing what she needed to know and attempting to fill in the blanks with the most logical possible solution. Occam's Razor, right? The simplest explanation was usually the right one.

She wanted to talk it over with someone, but that would have to wait until they got up there and found the others.

"One foot in front of the other, Ash," she whispered under her breath. "That's all you can do. One foot. Then another."