Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shall I Return to Shore...

Sam was finding it hard to care about the camera. Who gave a shit if they couldn't see the upstairs bathroom? It's not like anyone was going up there anyway. She tangled her fingers in the chain of Hannah's necklace, staring down at Mike's ashen face. His hair and stubble—now more a beard than anything else—seemed unnaturally dark against his skin, like some kind of inverted Snow White. Beth's voice in her mind lectured that originally a kiss hadn't been the cure. Snow White's body had been jolted during her funeral procession and she'd coughed up the apple that poisoned her.

But this wasn't some magical poison. This was blood loss and trauma and infection and death.

Everyone she loved died. She was cursed. Why hadn't he run when she faced down the monster? She shut her eyes. Yoga breaths, right? You do yoga. Do your breathing. He'd promised. He'd promised her. It felt like years ago that they'd spoken in her dorm room and she'd thrown her water bottle at him.

A tentative hand snaked its way around her waist and a blonde head rested on her shoulder. Jess had left the discussion and slid up to her; Sam hadn't even noticed. God, how out of it was she? She hardly even felt human anymore. The other girl's voice was soft, pitched low so the others, who were still talking, didn't hear. "He's going to be okay."

"Sure."

"He is, Sam. Of course he is. He's too stubborn to die from something like this. You know Mike. If he's going to go, he's going to go out in a blaze of glory." Jess paused, then smiled. "Probably while blowing something up."

It startled a huff of laughter from Sam. "He does seem to have a knack for it." She sighed and let her head fall to rest against Jess's. She was surprised to find how much she liked the girl. She seemed different, more grounded, but maybe she'd always been like that. All Sam had ever really seen was Jess's partying, popular-kid side, quick to a witty insult or flirtatious comment. Here, all of that seemed stripped away. The laughter and wit was still there, but there was also a determination that Sam appreciated. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. Are you kidding? He'd be too embarrassed at dying from losing blood. Never live it down. I'd tell all his buddies."

She took a deep breath, trying to let Jess's words wash over her. They were bluffs, white lies. They didn't mean anything, really. But she tried to take comfort in them anyway. Behind them, she heard Em's voice raised in irritation and Matt trying to calm her down, but didn't pay much attention. "Sorry, Jess."

"Oh my god. No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'd be upset—I am upset. I just know… he's going to be fine. Trust me." Jess's arm squeezed around her in an awkward half-hug. "I bet he was one of those kids who lit stuff on fire for fun. Or, like, stole firecrackers and set them off at random times."

"Firecrackers!" Josh said loudly and both girls jumped. Everyone stared at him, but he just grinned. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop. Sorry. Can't really help it. But… fireworks. Firecrackers." He raised his eyebrows at Chris, still smiling widely. It was a less charming smile than it used to be, with his teeth visibly sharp and the corner of his mouth twisted, but his excitement was palpable. "Dude. Fireworks."

Chris stared at him blankly. "What fireworks?"

"The ones I told you about. The ones I brought up here for us to mess around with."

Slowly, Chris nodded. "Uh… yeah. The firecrackers and, what was it, bottle rockets? They're still here?"

"Probably. It doesn't seem like the explosion hit the basement much."

Clearing her throat pointedly, Em raised her hand. "Um, hi? Hello? Earth to the dork twins. What the hell are you talking about?"

"A diversion," Chris said, glancing at Hank. "You said a diversion would be good, right? Can we get to them?" He asked Josh.

"What do you mean 'we'?"

The blond glared at his friend. "Shut the fuck up. We already talked about that shit. If you're going, I'm going too."

"Excuse me," Melinda interjected. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"Go get the fireworks and set them off to distract that toothy asshole from what we're trying to do."

"I'm sorry. I'm still stuck on that particular point. The fireworks?" The woman rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. Sam had the distinct impression that she was counting to ten. "You brought fireworks. To the woods."

If it was possible for part-monsters to look guilty and embarrassed, Josh was certainly pulling it off. "Sorry. But… lecture later? Be grateful for your son's idiocy now?"

Melinda rolled her eyes, but a small smile played across her face. "I think there's a few things you need a lecture about." She looked pointedly around the saferoom at the monitors, the tools, the bulletin board with paraphernalia of the twins. Josh looked even more guilty. Sam snorted. He had the whole 'kicked puppy' thing down pat.

Clapping his hands and rubbing them together, Josh nodded decisively. "Okay. So. Plan. Plans are good." He ignored Emily's pointed snort. "I'll go get the fireworks—"

"We will go get the fireworks."

"Jesus. Okay. Yes, Christopher. We will go get the fireworks and set them off to distract Big-n-Nasty, since heat and movement and loud noises are all very distracting. When you hear them going off, make a break for the helicopter and get the fuck out of here." He turned to Hank. "How many people can your limo seat?"

Hank frowned and folded his arms over his chest. "Four. Maybe six, but it gets less and less safe the more we pile in there."

"So you take Captain Fantastic and Mom and—"

"Um…" Ashley's voice was hesitant as she raised her hand. "Mrs. Washington needs to be here for your cure, I think. I mean, I think so? Like I said earlier—"

He shot her a dirty look. "Fine. Captain Fantastic and the party girls. Then you can come back for the rest of us."

"But—"

"Or—" Jess and Matt started to speak at the same time and exchanged an amused look.

Sam looked back at Mike. He was so pale. Had she ever seen him look this pale? She thought of Beth's still, perfect face and lonely eyes and swallowed hard. Everyone. Everyone she cared about died. She turned to Hank. "Fine. That works. The longer we wait, the worse it is for him, right? So we do this. Now." Glancing at Josh, she nodded to him. "Go. We'll see you back here."

Without waiting to hear any additional objections or concerns, Josh braced his feet and heaved the obstruction away from the door. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then shook his head and unbolted the door. "You coming, Cochise?"

He was holding Ashley's hand. Sam hadn't noticed before, but now she could see his white-knuckle grip, as if he was terrified of what would happen if he let go. The redhead clung to his hand until he joined Josh at the door. Tipping onto her toes, she whispered something in his ear and hugged him tightly. Sam tried to smile but couldn't manage it. She wanted to reassure them, but the words felt like a lie on her tongue and she swallowed them.

They vanished into the hallway. No immediate shouting erupted, which had to be a good sign. At the very least, it meant the thing wasn't hovering just outside the saferoom. It still might not know where it was.

Sam extended her arm and Ashley moved to lean into her, resting her head against Sam's. "They'll come back, right?" she whispered.

Still, Sam had no comfort to offer. She just hugged Ashley close on one side, Jess on the other, and closed her eyes.

All those left behind settled in to wait.

-o-

Chris had to trot to keep up with Josh. On some level, Josh felt bad about it, but not bad enough to slow down. Every slight shift in scents, in the air, were overwhelming and sent his instincts running wild. He couldn't even properly describe the scents. It wasn't like saying that you smelled bread or bacon or roses or horses. It would be more like turning to Chris and announcing that he could smell Airforce Blue or A Clockwork Orange. It just wouldn't make sense to him. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath as he rounded a corner. It didn't even make sense to him. How could Chris possibly understand it?

Abruptly he realized Chris wasn't behind him. He spun, ready for the worst, but the other man was just standing against a wall, his arms folded over his chest and feet set stubbornly apart. "Uh… We really need to keep going."

"Nope. I went along with your stupid plan because I assumed there was a 'plan' part to it. Not just lots and lots of stupid. So now it's time to explain. What the fuck were you talking about? There are no fireworks."

"Yeah there are… the ones from… before…"

Chris snorted. He kept his voice pitched low, as if he thought it would reduce the chance of the other monster finding them. Josh didn't have the heart to tell him that even whispering was probably enough, if the thing was close enough to hear them talking. "No. No there aren't. You would have told me the second that it even occurred to you to get them."

"I didn't tell you about the Psycho."

The comment had its desired effect. The blood drained from Chris's face and his jaw clenched. "That's not the same thing."

"How do you know? Maybe in my head it is. Who fucking knows anymore?" Was that Hannah, just barely visible down the hallway? Was it Beth? Was it his own goddamn brain messing with him again? He'd kept taking Sam's stupid pills, but he couldn't tell if they were making a difference at this point. It was hard to distinguish between that strange animal voice muttering at the back of his mind and what he was somehow doing to himself. "Let's get the lead out."

"Not until you give me some fucking answers. If you do something stupid you're going to get everyone killed and I won't let you."

He smirked at the blond. "And how exactly would you stop me?"

"Answers. Now."

Chris was not budging. They didn't have time for this. Josh briefly considered tossing the other guy over his shoulder the way he had with Mike before dismissing the thought. "Fine. No, there are no fireworks. But I can sure as hell make a good distraction anyway. I've got all kinds of fuel I can torch. Gasoline. Propane too. Might not be fireworks but it's still big and hot and loud and exploding. That's good enough."

"Why didn't you just tell me, you ass-weasel?" Chris threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

That… that was actually a very good question. Josh supposed that he had just assumed no one would go for it. At the very least, he'd get Mom objecting to him risking some big explosion. Fireworks were supposed to be at least moderately safe for the user, if they did it right. Lighting a canister of propane, not so much. "I… uh… didn't. Can we go?" He could hear darkness and smell ochre and he just wanted to know the others were safe. Even Mike, the unbearable asshole.

"Fine."

He knew that tone. That was always the tone Chris used on him when he thought he'd taken a joke too far or had one too many. That sounded amazing. He wanted a beer. Or anything, really. The thought of a drink made his stomach growl and he shuddered in revulsion. He hadn't eaten since the rabbits and his body yearned for more. Think how easy it would be, that alien, insidious voice murmured to him. You could kill him before he even realized. Then you could have something fresh. His mouth was watering. He could feel drool dribbling out from the damaged side of his face and he rubbed it away forcefully.

They walked in silence. Hating his own thoughts, he tried to slow his pace to let Chris stay with him and focused as much of his attention as possible on his senses. But the old hotel, which he knew so very, very well, seemed utterly still.

"It's quiet," Chris muttered dramatically. "Too quiet."

"That doesn't apply here, dumbass. That's only out in nature when the birds stop chirping."

Chris checked that the shotgun was loaded anyway and Josh fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Whatever. I mean, you know I'm right though. Something bad is going to happen. It's like saying: 'nothing bad is going to happen.' It's like bringing a curse down on yourself."

"Bro. You're babbling."

"Yeah, no shit."

"You're killing the mood."

The blond laughed humorlessly. "Good. If I'm going to be in a horror movie, I want it to be one of the shitty, cheesy ones. So I figure I might as well make the dialogue dumb and kill the vibe to help drive us that way."

Josh waved a hand at him dismissively. "I picked our horror movie type last month. Saw was critically acclaimed, you know."

"The first one, maybe. After that it was just a parade of shitty sequels. So if that's what you were going for, then congrats. You're in a shitty sequel."

"That's just… so rude."

He laughed again. The sound felt strange against Josh's skin. "You made your bed and now you have to lie in it. If you'd made even one different choice, we might not be here now. God… do you remember Jeannie Simmons?"

It took him a moment, but he did remember her. She'd been in music with them back before he'd been held back: a brunette girl with more freckles than she could handle and a slight overbite. Josh hadn't really liked the class. It had been boring and they never got to listen to any good music. Just random classical stuff that he liked even less as a child than he did now. Then at some point Chris had been moved back to sit with him. "Didn't she move away?"

"Yeah, in, like, fifth grade."

"What the hell made you think about that?"

Chris shrugged. "No idea. Or, well, I guess I was thinking about how we met."

"Weird time to get nostalgic," Josh muttered, stopping for a moment to get his bearings before heading off down a narrow side corridor. He was pretty sure he had some spare propane in the room with the backup lighting rig. "Bet you're pissed at her, though, huh."

"What? Why would I be pissed?"

"Oh, you know," Josh gestured vaguely. "Your life now would be very different without her." He stuck his head through a doorway and growled. Not the right place. How many fucking hidey-holes had he set up down here? He would make a better system next time. Not that there would be a next time, for roughly a thousand reasons.

Chris's finger jabbed into his shoulder and he had to fight the urge to turn and bite it off. If Sam was wrong about the possibility of a cure, then he would have to light himself on fire. There was no way around it. And if any of them tried to stop him, he'd… Josh couldn't really think what he would do. Leave them and do it in isolation, he supposed. There was something cold and matter-of-fact about the thought that didn't feel at all like that time years before. Now it was a different kind of necessity.

His sisters would be so disappointed in him.

"Hey. Get the fuck out of your head, dickwad, and look at me." Still growling slightly, he glared at Chris, who seemed unimpressed. "I can totally tell what you're thinking. You have a shitty poker face."

"I have an excellent poker face."

The blond snorted. "No you don't. People just get too intimidated by you to actually pay attention. Why do you think I teased you so much when you were making us play with that spirit board?"

"Because, like me, you too are a 'dickwad'?" Josh made quotation marks with his fingers in the air, pointedly ignoring how claw-like his fingers were beginning to look.

"Because I knew you were pulling some kind of fucking prank. I figured you just wanted to scare Ash and me, like I did with you and Sam." He sighed. "I admit that all the follow-up you planted was gold. Like, shitty pyrite gold that you should feel fucking awful about—because you are a garbage person who does garbage things—but yeah. The spirit board part… I could tell something was off with you. Otherwise I never would have laughed about that crap. So yeah. Nope. Terrible poker face."

Josh stared at him blankly for a long moment, then turned and headed further down the hallway. He never should have let Chris come with him. Next to Sam and his Mom, Chris was the one who could call him on his shit. Of course, he never did call him on his shit, but obviously their relationship had changed. He settled for just grunting in response.

"I just wanted to explain! And then maybe you'd—" Sighing again, Chris followed him. "Nevermind. I should have known better than to try to talk to you."

Ignoring that statement, Josh let out a soft whoop of satisfaction and stooped, heaving a can of propane up and propping it on his shoulder. "Mission part one, accomplished." He grinned at Chris, who smiled grudgingly. "The next part is going to be way more fun. C'mon Cochise. Blow stuff up now and very serious discussion time later, yeah?"

-o-

Sam kept looking at the monitors. There was no sign of the monster and, despite a fifteen second period where Josh and Chris passed across one screen, there was no other movement. A small series of numbers in white indicated the date and time in military format. It was late and only getting later. Every second felt like an hour as she listened to the tense, troubled silence of the saferoom.

And even past the waiting for Josh and Chris's plan—terrible, ridiculous, dumb plan—something more nagged at her. There was a piece missing. She was sure of it. Her hand clenched into a fist, the chain in her pocket pulled tight to cut into her battered fingers.

Hannah.

That was the other piece. That was the other thread she couldn't bear to leave hanging. They might cure Josh. They might even all get out of here alive. But she couldn't leave Beth or Hannah up here like this. And that meant that she had shit to do. Samantha Giddings. The get-stuff-done girl. She sighed and rubbed her other hand over her tired eyes.

On the table, Mike shifted slightly, shaking his head, his eyes twitching under closed lids. "Is he going to wake up?" she asked Hank quietly.

He crossed to stand behind her. Sam didn't really know why or how he came to be here, but she already liked him. His face was lined with weary knowledge and he moved purposefully. Despite their information about monsters and other insanity, he seemed to take it at least somewhat in stride. Maybe he was saving it up for a mental breakdown later. That method had served her well last time. "He might." Hank's voice was slightly hoarse and he cleared his throat. "I mean that—he'll wake up either way, I think, if this plan works out as I hope. Whether he wakes up before we get him to a hospital, I'm not sure. Depends how tough he is and how well his body handles trauma."

"Last time we were up here, he chopped off his fingers to get out of a bear trap and then kept going for hours." She laughed. The sound was brittle even to her own ears. "Not that he came out of it intact… ugh. Obviously, since he lost fingers. You know what I mean."

Hank snorted. "Yep. I think I do. Well, he might. If he does, he's going to be in a metric fuck-ton of pain. I don't suppose you guys have any painkillers?"

She flinched away from the question. There had been painkillers. She doubted Mike had more than one left, at best. "Great," she muttered. "Add detoxing to the list…" Take a deep breath. Count to five. Think of three good things. Real or not real. How did you get here? But there really was no question in her mind about the reality of this. Too much was happening, with too many of them and too quickly. This was real: horrifyingly, bitterly, shot-in-technicolor real. "Maybe some aspirin. Not anything that can help with something like this." Sam glanced down at his arm and then away again. "He should have run."

"Let me guess. Someone tried to play hero and it didn't go as planned?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she scowled at him, irritated. "You make us sound like idiots."

"I never said that," Hank said quickly, raising his hands in defeat. "I just mean… it wouldn't be the first time I've seen something like that fail. You think you can take the brunt of the badness and everyone else can get away. But people are stubborn and care about each other more than common sense often says they should." His voice was heavy and tired. "I—"

A muffled boom interrupted him. Sam turned and glanced at Jess, who shrugged. "Was that—"

Emily cut her off. "Time to go. Whatever it was, it was not right here and was loud and probably got the thing's attention. Or it was the thing. Either way, let's move it." She pointed at Mike. "Who's going to carry him?"

"I got it," Matt said, crossing the room quickly and starting to scoop Mike up into his arms. The injured man mumbled something. "Uh… are you sleep-talking?"

"Well, there's your answer." The older man smiled at Sam, but she could see the seriousness in his eyes. Mike might be awake, but that didn't mean he was out of the woods—pun not intended. "All we had to do was try to pick him up."

"Puhmuhdow." It was hard to distinguish what he was saying, but he was blinking bleary eyes at all of them and it was the best news Sam had received since seeing the helicopter in front of the ruined lodge. He swallowed a whimper and she again lamented their new lack of powerful painkillers. As if he could hear her thoughts, his eyes focused on her face and he tried to smile. At least, she assumed he was trying to smile—an assumption that was generous and certainly meeting him more than halfway. It looked like a drunken, pained grimace. "Shuddah kep more," he mumbled.

"Yeah, dummy. You should have. How did you not realize this was going to happen?" With Matt under his good arm and all-but holding him upright, Sam put one hand on his back for a moment, then stepped away again. She felt useless. Glancing at the others, she nodded decisively. "Em's right. Let's go. I'll be back," she told Melinda firmly. "You stay here with Ashley. If you hear the shave-and-a-haircut knock, it's us. Or Josh and Chris. That's the pattern we used with Josh before."

She didn't wait around to see if anyone objected. The door opened with a stubborn, angry squeal and she held it open for the group. "Lock it behind us," she called back to Ashley, who stared at her.

"Uh. Well, yeah. Of course." That was polite-Ashley-speak for 'Duh.' Sam nodded her thanks and shut the door behind her.

Hank headed up the group, followed by Matt and Mike staggering along as best they could. Emily's shoulders were set and tense as she followed. The other blonde girl, though, hung back as Sam brought up the rear. "He's awake," she commented softly, smiling. "Points for our team, right?"

"Woo-hoo," Sam said drily. "We totally dunked that goal."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Party pooper. Let me take joy where I can. I figured you'd be happy."

"I am." Talking seemed foolish but it was helping keep her calm. She kept her voice as quiet as she could manage. "I just—I'll rejoice in his survival when he gets off this mountain. When we all do."

The other girl hesitated, then spoke hesitantly. "I think I'm going to stay behind with you guys. Let Hank take Em and Mike and Matt if he'll go."

"What? Why?"

She gestured vaguely with the nozzle of the flamethrower. "I want to stick this through. All the way to the end." Her smile was awkward but seemed sincere enough. "I know it's dumb and I'm probably going to die or something, but still. I think I need to be here. Plus, I have the flamethrower and I am not letting anyone steal my thunder."

The chain of Hannah's necklace was warm from Sam holding it. She pulled it free of her pocket and held it in her palm as they walked. No sign of the thing, which meant that Josh's plan had probably worked, at least for the moment. They were moving slowly due to Mike's limited abilities, but at least it was progress. Every step they took was a step closer to some of them being certain of survival. The silver butterfly glinted in the dim light. Sam hadn't noticed the similarities between the necklace and Hannah's tattoo before. The tattoo was sharper and had stronger lines, but they had the same twisted aesthetic to them.

Sam swallowed hard. The others were not going to like this.

"Jess, I think I need to leave."

The blonde's head came up sharply. "What?"

"Just for a little while," Sam rushed to add, gesturing for Jess to keep her voice down. "And not right this second. But after we get the helicopter off the ground and Mike's getting real help. I need… I think I need to go find Hannah. I think I can help. And then maybe she can help? I don't know," she finished weakly. It sounded unconvincing even to herself.

"Uh… no. No way. You're going to die." Sam shrugged in response and Jess's eyes widened with alarm. Apparently the attempt to be casual had backfired. "Okay, no. Because even if Hannah doesn't kill you, the thing might. You saw what it's done to… to everyone. Come on, Sam. Don't do something stupid."

"It's not stupid." Considering, Sam shrugged again. "Okay, maybe it is stupid. But it's also more than I can do here."

"The cure—"

She shook her head. "Ashley knows at least as much as I do. Probably more."

"And what makes you think Hannah won't just kill you?"

"She did try to before. But not on purpose."

"Uh… she what?"

It really had been that long since she'd seen Jess. Fuck. So much had happened. If the dorm room and the oak tree felt like years ago, the unbearable cold of Hannah and the warmth of the hot springs and Mike's arms felt like months. "Yeah. She found Mike. She was… not particularly happy to see him."

Jess raised her eyebrows. "I can imagine. Shit. So this time you think it'll be different because…?"

"Well I'm not bringing him along, for one thing."

"And what makes you think you can even find her? So far, she's just been in the crazy house."

Oh right. Sam frowned. It felt like she was divulging something secret, though she knew that was silly. There was nothing wrong with Jess knowing. She looked up and realized with a start that they'd already made it to the basement of the lodge. Down the hallway ahead of them, she could just make out the edge of the rockers of the old wooden horse where it lay on its side. "When we saw her, she was here. So I think she's all over this mountain when she wants to be."

Jess was silent for a minute, frowning. Then she shot Sam an exasperated look. "Well, I guess if you're not forcing me onto the helicopter, I can't exactly force you to not do this incredibly stupid thing. When this is over, we really should grab that coffee."

Despite everything, it made Sam smile slightly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'd like that. When this is over."

As they passed by a rather dusty display of Bob's power tools and an assortment of cardboard boxes, Sam spotted something and ducked over to grab it. The baseball bat felt sturdy, if a bit worse-for-wear. Shoving the necklace back in her pocket, she gripped it with both hands and took a practice swing. She caught Emily's eye and raised her eyebrows, but the girl just rolled her eyes and kept walking.

They headed down the narrow concrete hall leading to the stairs. There was the wooden pallet she'd tipped to trip Chris. There was a smear of dried blood from when she'd skinned her hand running from Josh. At this point, she was practically a part of the damn house. Was that in a fairy tale? Probably, though she couldn't think of one offhand. Beth would know.

Ahead of them, Matt was helping Mike ascend the stairs. Their little party bottlenecked as they slowly filed up behind them.

"Brace yourself," Jess said with a nervous giggle, hefting the flamethrower.

They all held their breath as Hank opened the door, but aside from a blast of freezing air and the lingering scent of fire, nothing came rushing out of the dark at them. It felt too good to be true. For the first time, Sam let herself truly consider the idea that at least four of them were soon to be safe. That was four more than she had come to expect and it leant her a welcomed swell of courage.

The snow was drifting down lazily through the destroyed roof as they continued. Sam fanned out to one side, holding her baseball bat at the ready, while Jess took the other. Flanking, she thought Chris had called it, way back when he'd convinced them all to play Dungeons and Dragons. Or, no, that was when you surrounded an enemy. Sam groaned softly to herself. She never could remember. And why that should be on her mind now, of all times…

Emily let out a choked sound and Sam spun, raising the bat, heart pounding.

But it wasn't the thing. It was the helicopter.

Or, at least, it had been a helicopter, once upon a time. The six of them stared in silence at the twisted, mangled blades.

"How did it—" Hank had to clear his throat a few times before he could make his voice work properly. He seemed stunned and Sam couldn't blame him. "How did it know?"