Chapter Eighteen:
The Stars Were Falling
Mike frowned at the hose. He really didn't want to do it. He'd tested the water briefly and it was fucking frigid. He'd give anything for a searing hot shower, but this was his option. This, or wander off and try to find the hot springs and pray that he didn't get eaten by that huge, nasty thing. Freezing was probably the lesser of the two risks.
…still didn't make it any more appealing.
With a sigh, he stripped off his shirt. The outermost layer came away stiff with dirt and dried mud. How had he managed to get so filthy in only—he counted—three days? Four? Time and sleep deprivation were playing tricks on him up here. Fine. Maybe the amount of dirt was reasonable, especially given everything they'd been through so far.
He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, tossing them onto a clear portion of the counter. The soap was where Josh said he left it. Glaring at the hose, he braced himself. Who knew the next time he would have a chance to get clean. He should take advantage of the momentary lull.
"Stop stalling, Munroe," he said aloud, turning the knob.
Even knowing it was going to be cold, he still yelped as the water hit his skin. "Son of a sea cook—" Just enough water to get him wet, then he turned it off and used the soap, wincing as it tore at his skin like sandpaper. He scrubbed vigorously, feeling like he was about to get frostbite and lose a more fingers. Or other various unmentionables.
Tossing the soap onto a shelf, he hosed down again, teeth literally chattering. He'd never really thought teeth did that until he came up to this stupid fucking mountain. He'd never been one to get cold easily, if at all. Now it seemed like he was cold all the damn time. It even felt like it had followed him back to California after their last unfortunate excursion.
He used his undershirt to towel off as best he could, then began to re-dress. For the millionth time, he wished he hadn't been stupid enough to let his bag get swallowed up by the rockslide. He supposed a lack of spare clothes was a fair price to pay though, all things considered. His hand ached, the cold making the pain sharper, more pronounced. That seemed unfair. Shouldn't the cold numb him and make it easier to ignore? He tipped his remaining pills into his hand. Eight.
Fucking eight.
Mike stared down at them: the little round pills in his calloused, torn-up palm, framed by his remaining fingers. It hadn't really occurred to him that he was taking more than he should until Sam pointed it out. Once she did, of course, it seemed incredibly obvious. He didn't think he really had a terrible problem, but then that's what everyone always thought, right? Pathetic, he thought. I am pathetic. He took one.
Seven.
"Mike?" Sam opened the door.
"Hey Sam." He tried for nonchalance, but even to his own ear it sounded forced. "Were you looking for me?"
"That's why I said your name—um…" She rounded the corner and trailed off, staring at him. Belatedly, he realized he still was mostly undressed, with only his jeans on. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt…"
"No, no, it's fine," he said hastily. He turned away, shoving the loose pills desperately into his pocket. As if she wouldn't see them, as if she'd miss what she'd already pointed out that she knew. Some of the pills fell to the cement floor and he swore, dropping to his knees.
She rushed over to help.
The floor was damp and he plucked the pills off the floor as quickly as he could, hoping none of them would be damaged beyond repair. Sam was faster than he was. By the time he had three, she had the others. He caught her gaze and braced himself, waiting for a comment on the number, some remark about how many he'd gone through, but none came. She just smiled sadly and dropped them into his palm. "There. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
They both stood. He put them away properly this time, back into their bottle. "You didn't."
Sam grinned then, seemingly unable to suppress it, laughed. "Right. That's why you jumped. Because I didn't startle you. Come on. Why else would you have dropped all your pills? "
"You underestimate how clumsy I am," Mike pointed out.
"Yeah, I guess. Maybe you are just a huge dork. I've been saying that for years."
"You and everyone else. Need I remind you that I was running back?"
"Need I remind you that I paid as little attention to football as humanly possible?" She smirked up at him and for a split second, it felt like nothing had changed, like they were still young and innocent. Then her eyes flicked down to his mouth and he saw her throat work as she swallowed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he looked away.
He'd always known Sam was attractive. He was human, for fuck's sake, and had basic observational capabilities, but she'd always been carefully sectioned off in his brain. She wasn't one of the girls he went for and, besides, she had Beth. Any idiot could see how crazy they were about each other. So it had never really been a possibility he entertained. She was just Sam, his friend. His very attractive friend who gave him lots of well-deserved shit for his fuck-ups and could always be counted on to roll her eyes at his puns.
Until now.
If there were awards for Worst Timing, he would win every single one of them. He couldn't even pinpoint when things had begun to shift. Had it been when they'd hugged in the tunnel? When he'd woken in the ranger station to find her staring into the fire, looking lost? When she'd slid her hand into his by the big oak back on campus? When she'd clung to him in her dorm room like she was drowning? Or was it even further back, when she'd saved his ass more times than he could count from Hannah and the other monsters?
Seriously. Worst timing in the entire fucking universe. And some terrible judgement thrown in for good measure. That was him, in a nutshell.
"Hey, Mike?" Her words startled him out of his thoughts and he turned back. She was rocking slightly forward onto her toes, hugging her torso and looking at the floor. "Are we—are we okay?"
He smiled quickly. "Of course."
"No, don't—" Sam took a step towards him, laying one hand on his chest. He imagined he could feel every ridge and callous of her palm and fingers on his skin. It was… very distracting. He tried to ignore it. "You promised you'd tell me the truth, Mike. You promised you'd be honest with me."
He had promised. Mike sighed. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't. I—what happened earlier—I don't know what it means, and—I wouldn't blame you at all, but I'm worried that you're not going to forgive me for taking—"
Then her hands were sliding up his chest, along his shoulders to twine behind his neck. Every inch of her was pressed against him and it was so sweet and unexpected he wondered for a brief moment if he would pass out. Her lips brushed against his, softly. "Are you about to suggest that you took advantage of me?" she murmured. He could feel her smile.
"Didn't I? You were concussed, probably messed up from smoke inhalation and panic. I mean, the thing threw you through the wall. Like the Kool-Aid man in reverse or something and I find out that you're okay and I—"
She pulled back slightly to press the tips of her fingers against his mouth. "Mike? Shut up."
"But—"
"We could die any minute now, you know." Her hazel eyes were almost entirely green in the dim light. She sighed. "I'm tired. I'm so tired of questioning every little thing. Can't we just—I don't know—find comfort here? Now? Trust each other and sort the rest out later?" She kissed him again. Her lips were soft and warm.
"I—Sam—" It was madness. Sweet, perfect madness. He tried to think, to voice some other kind of objection, but then her teeth were at his throat and he lost track of what he was about to say.
"Please?" she whispered, voice breaking. That, more than anything else she might have said or done, was his undoing. His arms slid behind her back and she surged up against him. "Mike…" He lifted her. She felt so slight in his hands, even though he knew she'd probably deck him for saying so. Her legs went around his waist eagerly and he turned to let her rest on the table behind him.
She moaned against his lips, the sound vibrating out from her throat and jolting straight through him. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him down. He was drunk, intoxicated on the feel of her pressed against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her strong thighs around his waist, every single point where their bodies touched. Heat, comfort, and something more. Something that chased away the cold, the fear, the constant threat of death. There were two soft thumps as she kicked off her shoes.
He slid his hands under her shirt, drawing it upwards. She helped him, letting it slip over her head to be tossed, forgotten, on the table beside them. He pulled back to look at her and she flushed, then tugged the sports bra over her head, flinging it away. "It's practical," she muttered.
He laughed. "Sam, you're kind of dumb sometimes." He gestured vaguely to himself. "Does it look like I find this un-sexy in any way?"
Her eyes followed the gesture and she turned even more red. It was possibly the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen. Without waiting for her to respond, he kissed her again, trying to demonstrate very thoroughly his exact level of enthusiasm.
She moaned, her legs tightening around him, and he tipped her head back, leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat. Her hands fumbled at the catch on his pants and she laughed breathlessly, pressing her lips to the hollow of his collarbone. "Are you sure—" He couldn't hold back the question, even though part of him was sure he would die if she said 'no.' It was too good to be real, not in this dark, horrible place.
Then his pants were being shoved down and once again he lost all ability to speak, let alone protest. He wanted to touch her. Every inch of her revealed was the single best thing he could have hoped for; her skin smelled like the remnants of smoke and rock from what they'd been through, but underneath it was a musky sweetness that set his senses on fire. He lifted her again, letting her tug down her pants in turn, and bent his head to take one rose-colored nipple into his mouth. She bucked against him, biting back another moan as he slid further down, his hands braced on her hips.
Sam stilled abruptly. He glanced up to find her eyes wide and horrified, fixed on something behind him. "No, don't! Please—" Her desperate voice rang out through the room, but Mike didn't even have time to look before he felt razor claws pierce his back, driving deep through his ribcage and into his lungs. He gasped, choking, fighting for air, but there was only pain.
Laughter rang out to the left.
He jolted upright, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on an overhanging shelf. The dream-pain began to fade almost immediately and he looked around, frantic and disoriented. Where was— Dreaming? He had been dreaming. Who had been laughing? Had that been in the dream too? It seemed almost impossible that someone could be laughing right now.
Jess clapped her hands over her mouth, looking guilty. "Sorry," she whispered, grinning. "I didn't mean that to be so loud. It's Sam's fault."
He glanced at Sam, who looked defensive. "I wasn't trying to be funny. It was a serious answer." She caught his eye, flashing a little smile, and he tore his eyes away. His face felt hot. Shit, all of him felt hot, the dream still fresh in his mind, pain and pleasure alike. She had smiled just like that when… oof. Nope. Get it together, Munroe.
"Oh come on," Jess said scornfully. "Lettuce? That's what you want. If you could have any food in the entire world, right now, you'd want lettuce?"
"Yeah. Fresh, crunchy lettuce."
"Will you tell her she's nuts, Mike? Lettuce. Oh my god." Jess snickered, glancing around the room to see if she was disturbing anyone else. Emily was either still sleeping or pretending she was, curled under a blanket and facing the wall. Josh looked like he had passed out in the middle of doing something, like he'd just fallen sideways from where he'd been sitting. Maybe Josh always looked like that when he slept, Mike didn't know.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a flutter of wings and turned, trying to spot the butterfly. Was that white? Or red? Was there even a butterfly at all? "Fuck," he mumbled under his breath. This mountain really was trying to kill him. He let his head fall back onto the makeshift pillow and rubbed his eyes. How long had he been asleep? He felt marginally better, if now incredibly distracted. And, after the sensation of cleanliness in the dream, he found his clothes chafing him.
"No, come on. Sam, I know you're vegan, but seriously. Like, your ultimate fantasy meal. If you could have anything, right this second, what would you pick? Not just lettuce." The way Jess said the word dripped with disdain. "Even vegans must have good dishes."
"Fine! Fine. Okay…" Sam cast about for an answer, then snapped her fingers. "Okay. I'd have this curried lentil soup with dried cherries that they serve at Open House," she said, naming a café near the campus.
Mike gave up on more sleep and stood. Both girls looked guilty. "Sorry. Too loud?" He couldn't meet Sam's eyes.
"Nah. Just going to go wash up while we can."
"Are you sure that's safe?" Sam frowned. "Do you want company?"
"No!" The word came out angrier than he intended and he winced. He paused, rapping out a quick pattern on the table. "No—that's fine. I'll be back soon. I'll be quick. That's the knock I'll use when I come back, so you know it's me. Bolt the door behind me." Sam opened her mouth, possibly to protest, and he fixed her with a sharp look. "I mean it, Sam. Bolt the damn door. Jess, make sure she does it."
Before she could object again, he undid the locks on the door and slipped out, heading towards where he and Josh had found the generator. He knew the stupid room with the hose had to be around there. Josh had gestured vaguely before he left. He had to do something to snap himself out of this and freezing water seemed suddenly like an excellent idea.
Unless, of course, there really had been a butterfly and that dream had been some kind of prophecy of sex and death.
He shook his head. Why was that even a possibility? Fuck this stupid mountain.
-o-
"What do you mean he's gone? He was just here, wasn't he?" Melinda couldn't keep the irritation from seeping into her voice. She was tired and sore. She hated traveling, particularly along the narrow winding roads that brought her to the small resort town. They inevitably made her feel claustrophobic and carsick.
Beverly shrugged. "I don't know, Mel. That last kid just vanished. He's still checked into the room and all, but I haven't seen him in a while now. I think he left too. Went up the mountain, maybe."
"It's been snowing. Storming. Why—" She threw her hands in the air. "Christ. Are all these kids insane? Fine. I knew I'd have to go up there."
"Are you taking the cable car? In this weather?"
"It'll be fine." She could see Hank frowning at her from the corner of her eye and shot him a challenging look. "I don't want to hear it. I'm going up there, one way or another. It's an enclosed car." He opened his mouth and she glared him down. "It'll be fine, Hank."
He folded his arms over his chest and his frown deepened. Hank had been a heartthrob once. Now his face had creases carved into it, the signs of a life very thoroughly lived, if not entirely happy. Melinda wasn't sure which she preferred. All of them were older now. "At least stop for a few hours. Rest. Traveling is shit even when you aren't on one of those damn buses."
There was no time to rest. She'd rest once she got them down off the mountain. She thought about Allison Giddings, Sam's mom, who probably had no idea where her daughter was. If she had to explain one more death caused by her family, she wasn't sure what she'd do. They were fine, she told herself. She'd get there before anything bad happened and just yank them back down by their ears. "No, I'm just going to go. I slept on the bus. I just want to get his over with."
Scowling, Hank nodded once, sharply. "Fine. I'll give you a lift to the station, then."
-o-
Sam watched the view on the monitors rotate and flicker, but there was no movement, nothing to account for how on edge she was feeling. Every one of her nerves seemed to be sparking at once. If she were a dog, her hackles would be raised. It was an unsettling sensation with nothing to blame it on. Something was coming. She couldn't say how she knew, but she did.
They should rearrange the cameras, she thought for the hundredth time. They could put one in the hallway just outside the door and maybe move a few others closer. She glanced over at Josh, who was still passed out. It used to make her laugh, the way he slept, but now it just made her sad. The mangled half of his face was buried in his arms and he looked almost normal. She'd need his help to adjust the cameras. Better to just let him rest and hope that the drugs were taking effect.
Emily and Jess had traded places. Em, who had refused to sleep unless someone stayed up to watch Josh and apparently didn't trust Sam to do it, was now sitting on top of one of the tables, perusing the journal and letting Jess get some rest. She wanted to ask Emily about it, get her thoughts, but even one glance at the girl showed her how unwelcome that would be. They might have all reached an uneasy sort of truce, but Em obviously didn't want to talk to Sam any more than she wanted to talk to Mike.
"I'm going to go check on Mike," Sam said, pushing herself to her feet and feeling her muscles groan from the lack of use. She stretched briefly, touching her toes and sweeping her arms up to the ceiling.
"Whatever." Em followed her to the door to re-bolt it. "Shave and a haircut to get back in."
Nodding, Sam slipped out into the hallway. She hadn't realized how much the temperature of the saferoom had shifted from all of them sitting around in it. In comparison, the hallway was much colder and she rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm.
She followed distant sounds to the workshop she'd passed through with Emily. That one had the working water. "Mike?" She stuck her head around the door. Too many shelves. Wherever he was standing, she couldn't see him from the door.
"Hey Sam. Were you looking for me?"
She snorted. "That's why I said your name—um…" The words died in her throat as she was confronted with a rather undressed Michael Munroe. She hadn't realized he was planning to wash up that much. She'd figured, with cold water, the most he'd do was wash his face and hands, maybe rinse out his hair, but it seemed he'd really gone for it. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and started to turn away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt…"
Mike's hand clenched around whatever he was holding, clutching them against his chest. "No. It's fine. Did something happen?" His voice was abrupt, clipped. Moving slowly, with what seemed to Sam to be excessive caution, he tipped the pills in his palm into their bottle and stowed them in his pocket, then grabbed his shirt.
"Not really. Actually, no. Not at all." She really had no reason for coming after him except boredom and, maybe, loneliness. Sitting in that room with Em silent and cold, with the others asleep… she felt more alone than she had wandering around in actual solitude. She wanted to see Mike, relax in his easy company.
Now that she was here, though, it seemed anything but easy. Sam watched him pull on his t-shirt and flannel, leaving his undershirt and outer layer on the counter while he pulled on his boots. The words came out before she could stop them: "Are we okay?"
He flinched at the question, his whole body growing even more tense. "Of course."
"No, don't—" Sam crossed the room, feeling as if she could break through his odd stiffness through physical proximity. He watched her approach looking like a wary dog. "You promised you'd tell me the truth, Mike. You promised you'd be honest with me."
"Don't say that," he said sharply. "Don't say that, Sam."
Mike looked angry, though she had no idea why. Unless… unless he was angry at her for what had happened earlier in the yard. "I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice weak. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean—I don't want things to be messed up between us. I know you're with Jess and—"
He snorted. "We're not together."
"What?"
"We broke up officially before we came up here, but I think it's been over for a lot longer than that."
She took a deep breath. "Well I'm sorry anyway. I don't want things to change between us, not if it means we can't be friends. It might have been a mistake, and I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have…" Once upon a time, she had been good with words, right? She'd like to blame exhaustion, but she hadn't been able to sleep, which must mean she wasn't that tired.
He was watching her with raised eyebrows and she faltered entirely. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sam."
"Yeah, I shouldn't have kissed—"
"And I took advantage of you. We're even."
Sam took another step in, reaching up to trace his heavily-stubbled cheek. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Munroe."
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his jaw clenching. She shook her head, smiling slightly, then tipped onto her toes to press her lips against his. "You didn't take advantage of me."
"Didn't you just say you shouldn't have kissed me? And yet—"
Her heart stuck in her throat. He was right. What was she doing? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even come here." She turned to leave and he caught her hand, pulling her back into him. It was the third time she'd kissed him, and each time felt new and surprising. His spare hand gripped her shoulder and if she'd thought he'd been cold or uncaring, she'd been wrong. She could feel the tension vibrating in every inch of him, as if he was holding himself back from something.
He pulled back and dropped his hands to clench, white-knuckled, at his sides.
"I think I should wash up too," she said softly. "I'll meet you back in the room." She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and kicked off her shoes. Mike looked like he was in actual, physical pain.
"Sam, look… this just… this isn't a good time."
No shit. She snorted. "Yeah, obviously."
"I'm doing this all wrong. Fuck." He took her hands again, looking down at them with an expression she couldn't decipher. "I don't—I'm not—"
The door opened again and they both jumped, spinning to face the newcomer. Josh came around the shelf, his face drawn anxious. "Hey, so… someone is coming up on the cable car. The station activated."
They stared at him. "What?" Sam said finally.
Josh laughed, the sound hoarse and humorless. "My reaction exactly."
-o-
"You want me to fly you up there?" Hank frowned up at the snowy forest through the filthy glass. "It'd be tough, but I could do it."
Melinda shook her head. "No, let's not risk it. And I'm not getting the authorities involved. The kids aren't stupid. I'm sure they're fine. I'll just go up and get them to come back down with me. Should be simple." He snorted and she smiled ruefully, pulling on her gloves. "Fine. Maybe not simple. But I don't want to ruin their lives and their futures by getting them in trouble. This was stupid, but I can't say I don't understand the urge."
"You're a good person, Mel. Taking care of those kids like this."
"Doesn't feel like that most days. But thanks." She put the key in and turned it, then manipulated the controls until the engine above them started up. "Should take a bit to get down here. Mind keeping me company?"
He smiled. "Not at all." He hefted the thermos he was holding. "I kind of hoped you'd ask. Coffee?"
They sat together on the cold bench, watching as the cable car slowly made its way down the line towards them. Melinda couldn't think of anything to say, but Hank didn't seem to expect her to chat. They passed the cup back and forth, drinking the bitter brew. She smiled slightly as she took another sip. Black with sugar, the way she liked it. He remembered. Either that, or his own personal coffee tastes had changed.
She stared out at the snow. "Somewhere out there are the last links to my kids, Hank." Now where did that come from? How inappropriate and unfair of her to say—she shouldn't put that on him. Not after everything he'd already done for her. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" He poured more coffee. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I have too much to be sorry for. Too much to even really start apologizing to the right people." Melinda sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But you don't have to share my burdens."
He was quiet for a long moment, then cleared his throat and straightened. "I share those burdens whether you want me to or not. Mel, I've known those kids since they were little and you first started coming up here. I remember when Josh knocked his tooth out falling off that ledge. I remember when Beth was too shy to even say hi to people properly but would sing at the drop of a hat if you asked her. Hannah and that damned dog of hers. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder if I could have done something different. If we'd spread the search farther or…" He trailed off, scowling into the steaming coffee. "Sorry. I'm just trying to say, Mel, that we all have regrets. I'm just hoping—I'm just hoping that letting you go up there on your own doesn't become another one."
The car rolled into place and came to a stop, swaying slightly. Melinda stood and picked up her bag. "It won't. It'll be fine. I'm just going to go up there, find them, and bring them back down."
"If you're not back soon, I'm going to fly my ass up there to get you."
"Deal." She smiled and climbed on. "Here we go. I'll see you soon, Hank. Thanks for the coffee."
The doors slid shut and she took her seat. She hated this fucking thing. It always made her vaguely nauseous, the way it swayed from side to side as it moved. Hank stood on the platform as the cable car began to make its way back up the mountain. She watched him until the snow obscured the view, then settled into her seat with a sigh. She hoped Sam and whoever she brought with her were easy to find. She didn't want to wander from building to building in the storm any more than she had to.
-o-
"Um… Matt?" Ashley reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "There's—the cable car is moving." It was coming down towards them, slowly emerging from the storm like a ghost.
He shielded his eyes to look up at it, frowning. "So does that mean they found Josh? Or spare keys or something?"
"Should we go back? Are they on their way down?"
Squinting, he tried to make out any details through the swirling snow. "I don't know. Let's… let's hold up for a moment. See what happens. Maybe find somewhere to sit that's out of the snow."
Ashley shivered. "I like that plan. Out of the snow. That's definitely a good plan." She looked around. "Um… where though?"
They settled for ducking in a hollow created by a fallen tree, watching as the cable car made its slow, ponderous descent towards the bottom of the mountain. It shook in the wind, but moved well enough. Ashley wished they could be sitting in it. She was all about the rescue they were attempting, but her socks were soaked and she was getting blisters and, honestly, she knew she was not cut out for this kind of cross-country trek. The cable car vanished from sight, momentarily disappearing into the snow, before reappearing again.
"So…" Ashley bounced in place, trying to keep herself warm. "Did we just hike into the middle of nowhere for nothing?"
"Maybe. But, I mean, that's sort of the best-case scenario, right? That means they're okay, they found keys and/or Josh, and are headed down. That's pretty good."
"True. Would have been nice to get a dream about that possibility," she mumbled bitterly.
Matt laughed. "You cold?"
"Yeah."
"Come here." He held out an arm and she scooted into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist. Immediately she felt better, though it was only marginally warmer. He felt solid and sure at her side. "How have you been?" She craned her neck to look up at him and he smiled ruefully. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Yeah. Not since…" Not since they were nearly killed by monsters and she'd been terrorized by a villain out of the Saw franchise, she almost said. It was unnecessary. Matt knew. He remembered. "I've… I've been better."
"I know that feeling."
"So you and Em broke up?" It felt silly, sitting here making pseudo-awkward small talk in the middle of the woods, but it helped a little. It was like his arm around her: something solid and familiar.
He laughed again. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm not sure we were ever really together. She wanted some kind of revenge on Mike and Jess and I was handy. Ugh—I sound bitter, don't I? I don't mean to. I love Em. She's just not really the most, well, emotionally responsible person." The cable car disappeared completely, still apparently on its way down the mountain. "So how about you and Chris? I heard you finally got a bit cozy."
Ashley smiled sadly into her scarf. "I guess so. Not sure he'll forgive me for coming up here though. He thinks all of us are totally crazy."
"Really? I thought he'd be the first to lead a 'Rescue Josh' charge."
She shook her head. "He's convinced Josh is dead."
"Didn't he have the dream too?"
"I think so. He was kind of cagey about it, but yeah? I think he did. He's just—ugh." She let her head fall to rest against his shoulder. "It's Chris, you know? He's so sure that everything can be explained and monsters are just too far outside the realm of the explainable. You know how none of the cops or rangers or anyone would believe us? Chris is on their team. Team Reason. Team Logic and Science."
"As opposed to Team Monsters and Magic?"
"I prefer to think of it as Team What-We-Actually-Saw."
He chuckled. "Yeah, that's a way better title. Let's go with that." He sat up straight and Ash jerked upright, senses immediately on high alert.
"What? What is it?"
"It's—look." She followed the line of his point, squinting into the white. "The cable car."
It was coming back. That meant—that meant it wasn't them. They weren't going down. Someone else was going up. Someone with a key. The light was on in the cable car, tinting the windows yellowish even as it rocked from side to side on its ascent. "Oh shit. Oh shit-shit-shit. Oh my god, Matt, we are so fucked!"
"It could just be that there were too many of them to go in one trip," he offered, but she could hear in his voice that he didn't believe it.
They watched in tense silence as it continued to work its way up the line. It was funny, Ashley thought dully, how much longer the trip seemed to take when you were the one in the car rather than the one watching it. Or maybe it was just that the last time she'd ridden in the cable car, she hadn't been freezing, hungry, stressed, and tired. They hadn't taken the cable car down after the lodge had exploded; the helicopter had taken them. She'd sat, clustered together with a silent Emily and a single emergency blanket wrapped around the two of them.
As the cable car approached them, both Ashley and Matt craned their heads, trying to see inside. The only thing either could make out was that it seemed like there was only a single rider. Ash made a face. She wished that was reassuring. She shook herself, pulling her bag onto her shoulders securely. "Okay, well. I guess we have to keep moving, either way, right? It's not like anyone's going to come get us."
They continued on. The ground began to slope upwards more steeply and they skirted around the edges of what Matt concluded must have been the end result of the rockslide. Ashley was the first to admit that she wasn't particularly outdoorsy, but she'd read enough to know that even being around the area was unsafe. Having one rockslide greatly increased the chances of another one.
There was a brief respite in the storm, the snow slowing to a few gentle flakes. As they made their way around the edges of the rubble, Ashley caught sight of something. "Is that—" She caught Matt's sleeve and pointed. "Is that the cable car station?" It listed to the side, looking for all the world like it had too much to drink. As if it heard her, she felt a slight rumbling in the ground and looked up towards the approaching cable car with dawning horror.
"Matt—Matt, it's going to fall."
She watched the realization grow on his face as he looked up.
Several things happened in quick succession: a line snapped, the support beam under the station gave way, and the snow resumed. Because of-fucking-course the snow resumed at a moment like that. Ashley screamed, but the sound of it was torn away from her, flung into the wind and away. Matt tackled her, driving her to the ground and shielding her under himself as the world seemed to explode around them.
She felt the ground shaking, heard the howl of wind the indescribable sound of things falling, things that could easily kill them both. Not knowing what else to do, she stayed huddled, all-but holding her breath as she waited. It wasn't too different from an extreme earthquake, she told herself over and over again. Just like the drills in school.
But the drills never covered buildings that seemingly fell from the sky, or the whip-like shrieking crack of sheared off metal cable. She grabbed Matt's hand and clung to it, relishing in the way his fingers squeezed her. It meant he was alive. For now, at least. She closed her eyes and prayed, begging the universe to just let them live through this. They weren't even to the others yet. If she died here, it would mean nothing. She wouldn't have been able to help at all and she'd just be scaredy-cat, useless Ash all over again. And Matt. Matt didn't deserve to die here in the woods with her, on this pointless quest. They should have just called in the rescue service again.
Then Matt was up, jerking to her feet. The ground was still sliding, the snow still coming down. He pointed into the trees and said something, but after the din of the last few minutes, she couldn't make out his words. She looked in the direction and saw what had caught his attention. The cable car was wedged in the canopy, somehow caught in a thick entanglement of pine boughs, but any second now, it was going to collapse further and plummet to the ground.
Without either asking the other, they both took off running, skidding down the hill towards the car, shouting soundlessly into the storm. The light inside flickered and went out completely as they watched. They got to within about twenty feet before the branches gave way and the cable car made its final descent, crashing into the ground and sending rocks, ice, and broken wood flying.